The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Passing through the soot-ridden halls of the foundry, Oscar marveled at how everything could fit inside the Excrusier, though it shouldn't be much of a surprise. The Excruiser was a small floating city capable of housing hundreds of thousands of troops, far surpassing the likes of the highest fortress-class airships. This foundry was but a small part. Gol-4 once described his insane idea, which never came onto paper even for the genius, remaining as a figment of his imagination, to lift an entire country on an airship.

'I miss having him around.' Oscar stroked Erden's head, recalling the times Gol-4 perched on top. At his coming, several fabricators, who had just exited their workshops, halted and bowed deeply.

"It's an honor." "Welcome, Margrave Terr." Their respectful words passed by as he walked through them, sensing their gazes on his back even after not saying a word. Quickening his pace, he turned a corner, escaping their fervent stares behind those helmets. He ignored more fabricators who expressed their admiration, only replying with a cursory wave. Why did it have to be so far away?

After skipping various steel doors caked in black ashes and turning several more corners, he felt the heat intensifying, coming from the heat source of his destination. He opened the door, shaking off the soot, and allowed himself inside. The central furnace, shaped like a Kraken, spewed out flame and smoke from the maw on its bulging head, the tentacles acting as stairs for one to ascend to the top to look down on the fires. His master certainly had strange tastes. If it were up to him, he would use a simple furnace. But this Excrusier was his master's, so all decisions were up to him.

Oscar sat down and clenched tightly on his shoulder, grunting as the needles retracted, clicking back into the artificial arm. The shredded pieces of the bandages that supported the arm burned when cast down onto the smoldering ground. The damage required the arm to be heated to shape and mold back into its former form. Oscar dropped the artificial arm into the Kraken furnace. With nothing to do, he wandered the large forge room, finding another chamber.

"Aunt Rosett?" Oscar looked at the beautiful Forgemaster of the Pavilion, who was pounding her hammer on several curved plates, seemingly hot from how they glowed.

"Oscar? Hold on, I need to make the repairs." Aunt Rosett lifted the plates with her Ein and carefully adjusted them onto several roughed-up golems, smoke hissing and wafting from where she put them. She pounded her hammer several times to adjust perfectly to the golem and fastened them into place. Her voice came out in wonderment. "How amazing are these things you've brought us?"

"They are the works of the greatest genius the world has ever known, well, in terms of golems." Oscar was proud of his good friend and tapped the golems, the Sentinels. They had similar blue glass eyes like Gol-4, hiding behind a bucket helmet. Their bodies were taller than him, reaching eight feet tall, and they resembled stalwart warriors with thick blue armor covering them from head to toe. They had no weapons, but their variety of combat and combinations made them a deadly force; no other ordinary golems comparable to their prowess.

In the battle of Greenwich City, these sentinels had decimated the enemy with their combined strikes, reading the situation to counter any assaults. Oscar coughed and spoke out to the sentinels, "Awaken."

Their blue eyes flickered until a deep glow exuded from the mechanical lens within. A hundred sentinels jerked their heads up as the gears rotated, clicking like the second hand of a clock. They bowed and dropped their heavy knees to the floor, metal hitting metal akin to the fall of a hammer. "Acknowledged. Master Oscar Terr. Awaiting orders."

"They seemed fixed and ready. Sentinels, shut off." Oscar saw none of them having issues, not a hair off in their uniform movements. The sentinels stood in exactly the same position and pose. Their blue eyes dimmed as the gears stopped ticking. He faced Aunt Rosett and smiled warmly, "Master has invited me to have dinner, but I can't quite leave out my good aunt. Will you come?"

"Of course. There's nothing better to do until we return home. That darned Maggie will be fuming, hahaha!" Aunt Rosett hummed and hugged Oscar, thanking him for giving her many chances to make it right with his master. She departed quickly, presumably to prepare for tonight's dinner.

Oscar chuckled and went to work on his artificial arm. He fished out the red-hot arm, created from Erden's antlers, and studied it on the anvil. Erden entered the Meld stage and cradled the arm, separating it into its individual components, from the plating to the joints. One by one, Oscar repaired the cracks, pounded the dents back into shape, and put it back together. The arm latched into his shoulder, and there was a brief surge of pain as the nerves connected, inducing several groans.

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Testing it, he clenched his fist and used a backhanded Shattering Wave, finding no issues with the repairs. After wrapping it in bandages to hang it from his shoulder, Oscar looked at the time and was startled to see it was almost up. He rushed back to the nearby shower in the foundry, washed up, and wore his Black Aegis Legion uniform, a spare in his space pocket. Luckily, there was still time. His master would surely punish him if he were late.

The fortress, no, the entire city of the Excrusier, sparkled with bright light. Soldiers rested and cheered in the streets, clamoring to the top of their drunken voices. Did they try to drink away the gloom that enveloped the empire, or were they happy the war would soon end in two years? Oscar wondered if Wrymir was enough. Shaking his head, he tossed aside his worries and ventured into the fortress, barging through the door.

"I'm here, Master. Wait? Why is everyone here?" Oscar saw Fred, Emily, Celestina, Charles, Robert Raeven, Gavir, and Aunt Rosett seated at the round table. A delectable feast of whole birds, roasted boars, and plentiful dishes of steaks and vegetables, both slow-cooked and roasted, filled the table, nearly overflowing to the point the dishes were so compactly arranged.

"What's wrong with me being here? As the princess and a good friend, I have the right." Celestina grinned, hiding her laughter behind her hand, a welcoming change from her depressed and angered state.

"As a Drakiri, I must stay by her majesty's side. It is our duty." Gavir said stoically, but the faint smile told a different motive.

"I'm here with my sister, and I'm hurt you didn't bother to tell me." Charles clicked his tongue, a fake sullen look exaggerating his cheeks.

"I was hungry and found this place. A hearty meal is best after a long battle." Robert Raeven grunted, his claymore still sheathed behind his back. As a true Raeven, he never let go of his blade.

"Emily and I let ourselves in." Fred waved over to the empty seat next to him.

"You invited me." Aunt Rosett wore a beautiful pink dress that complimented her hair and two hoop earrings that dazzled with her deep yellow eyes.

Staring at his master, he knew immediately that the brutal master was not in the best mood. The Warden stayed silent, but that silence alone unnerved him. It didn't require any pressure, presence, or Ein to intimidate. Just the silence. Only the cold void between the visors that neither approved nor disapproved of him. Chuckling weakly, he sat beside Fred and his master, letting the food distract him and uplift his spirits. The instant the succulent meat melted in his mouth, carrying deep flavors of roasted spices and juices, his mood improved.

His master didn't take a single bite. Heck, he never touched the silverware, staring blankly forward. Sometimes, the hints of madness that lurked in Draven were utterly terrifying to behold, as Oscar could never figure out what might happen next. The next moment, the table might be pounded into dust.

Deep into the dinner, Fred asked, "Os, what will happen to the kids you picked up?"

Oscar stopped his fork and set it down. "They will be taken into my estate."

"Really?" Celestina perked up, her emerald eyes softening. "That's good for the children."'

"I received a large mansion and servants. The servants will do better to care for the children than an absent master. It'll give them more fulfilling work. After all, they're orphans. It'll be hard for them otherwise." Oscar noticed his master shuffling slightly, a small twitch that broke the golem-like behavior. He downed a cup of wine and saw Aunt Rosett staring at his master, worry dripping down her forehead in beads of sweat and wary crossing his brow in deep lines.

'Something is wrong.' Oscar passed down a plate of food to Erden.

'Do you know anything about your master?' Erden asked, munching on his plate.

Oscar tried to recall any noteworthy details. He only met his master in the Abyss Prison after being sent down there for killing a fellow student. For him, his master also seemed quite enigmatic, no one truly knowing of his past or withholding it. His eyes widened, and he dropped his fork, which clattered loudly on his plate, grabbing everyone's attention. He coughed and shrugged to play it off. He had remembered the brief interaction between the Pavilion Master and his master.

'He was an orphan that the Pavilion Master raised.' That was why his master reacted to the idea of orphans. The rest of the meals went on in light conversations, Fred ending up drunk and getting scolded by Emily, enlivening the air in laughter. But his master never stirred again, staying silent.

Finishing his scrumptious chocolate cake, Oscar wiped his mouth and said farewell to Draven before chasing after Aunt Rosett. She sighed and wandered off to a balcony, a soft moonlight glancing through the glass doors until she opened it to let them beam directly onto the floor. She sat down on a bench and rested her hair down the back, the lunar beams peeking through the strands of vibrant pink hair. She looked like a goddess but a somber one that seemed tired.

"Aunt Rosett." Oscar stepped into the moonlight. He sat down next to her, watching as she listlessly gazed into the starry night, her face downcast and depressed.

"Orphans." Aunt Rosett chuckled, running her hands through her hair. "I'm glad you decided to take them in. Children need all the love and care, especially after these traumatizing days."

"Like my master?" Oscar assumed.

Aunt Rosett sighed, "Yes. Just like Draven."

"I never asked him what his past was like and why he ended up as he did. I guess a part of me was afraid of what I might find out. Does that make a bad student?" Oscar said.

"No. No. It shows you care for Draven. His past is his business, but I can tell you what I know if you want." Aunt Rosett stroked his head.

"Please." Oscar wanted to know.

"It's not the complete story, but I'll tell you everything from my point of view." Aunt Rosett returned to gaze at the moon and started her tale. One that encompassed the past between her, Draven, and others.

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