The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

After the high-pitched bell ended its slow, drawn-out tolls, a ceaseless and constant ringing of a second one, rapid and loud like the clattering of a wheel on a stony road, signaled all forces to report to their stations. Oscar took deep breaths to calm himself and pounded his chest to slow his quickening heartbeat. Erden jumped from his corner, transformed into his true form mid-air, and landed before him, lowering the antler wings to give space for him to mount. He joined the last hurrah with his friends, bidding each other farewell and good fortunes for the battle.

"Remember what I said. If the battle seems lost, run with as many others as possible." Celestina whispered, turning away to depart. He felt certain she had no intentions of running away, her fate forever tied to the empire. Oscar shook his head away from her sight, worried she might come back and command him to run. They had to win. He promised to himself. He wouldn't let her die in vain but wanted her to live with great purpose as the next empress, to live past the war.

Fred and Emily departed for their home to prepare their equipment for the final battle. The sounds of crying reached him from the other end of the hallway, Renn's and Gloria's. Oscar entered the playroom, toys scattered around and broken, presumably from the tantrums thrown by the others. The other children were already taken away by their parents, and in the middle of the room remained Renn and Gloria, hugging each other in tears. Even they knew what these bells meant.

Scooping them up in his arms, Oscar tenderly swayed them about, slowly calming them down to faint sniffles and muffled sobs. Facing Declerd and the two maids, he passed the children to their arms, one for each maid. Unsurprisingly, the two children gripped tightly onto his clothes, and after great effort, their fingers loosened enough for him to escape. Oscar patted Declerd's shoulder, trusting the old butler after two years of good servitude, and whispered into his ears, "I leave these two to you. Go down to the cellar and into the tunnels built underground. Wait for the bells of victory or defeat. If I don't return, find a safe place for yourselves and them.

"I will not fail you. Young master and miss will be well cared for. Please, my Lord, come back safely." Declerd bowed, the wrinkles deepening on his face, the old one showing deep emotion for the first time in his years of service.

"Good luck to you, my Lord!" Arlen, the lively maid, shouted.

"We will await your return." Eris bowed, sweat beading down her usually calm face, which began to crack and tremble.

Oscar nodded and thanked the two maids. He rested his hands on the heads of the two children and said, "I will be leaving now. Don't cause any trouble for old Declerd. Behave yourselves and wait quietly."

"Mister!" Renn yelled out, his voice in suffering. His lips trembled as his cheeks and brow twisted. "You're coming back, right?!"

Silently, Oscar poked his forehead, a short exclaim of pain responding to his touch, and he wiped away Renn's tears. He smiled widely and hit his fist against his chest, reassuring the lad and, more importantly, himself, "Of course I will. I am the hero, aren't I? Like the ones in the books, I'll defeat the big bad evil and return home. So, wait. You too, Gloria. I promise I will be back."

"Dad. Good luck." Gloria said through watery eyes, snot running down her nose. These words surely required her to muster all of her strength and will. Oscar leaned down and kissed her on her forehead. If he stayed any longer, it would be hard to leave. Forcing his legs to move, he quickly turned around, the children's wailing picking back up as they faded into the distance, carried away, yet he could not return to comfort them.

'War is often a terrible affair, one that Esteres loathed greatly. But I find it to be the best. In war, the flaming resolve of humanity and beast shines the brightest. The Threads formed between all coagulate into the greatest blaze.' Ignyres's small figure, about as tall as Oscar, appeared beside him, visible only to him.

'I can't deny that is in your nature. But I am more inclined to Esteres's view.' Oscar brushed past the Ancient of Fire.

'You are very much like her. But in the end, you, like her, had no choice and fought fiercely like berserkers. How very similar indeed.' Ignyres cackled, matching Oscar's pace.

Scoffing at Ignyres's observation, he entered his room, a sense of familiarity growing in him after two years of living there. Slowly, his feet walked, loud steps approaching his table. The drawer creaked as he opened it since it hadn't been opened in nearly two years. Inside were his space pockets. He laid everything on the floor and rubbed his chin at the sprawl of equipment and elixirs.

A few minutes later, after a quick bath, he dried himself and put on his uniform, the aqua blue contrasting well with the obsidian cloak. His hands tweaked the medallion of his order into a perfect angle, straight and forward. Taking off his ring, he stared briefly and pecked his lips at the golden diamond, carefully stowing it away in a small box and storing it in his space pocket. Avril appeared in his mind, the lovable woman he called wife. 'I'll survive this and create a good home for us.'

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The shield was polished to a crystal shine, the light from the chandeliers glancing on the many surfaces of the diamonds. His hands, now gloved, lifted the helmet and placed it on his head, the darkness of the metal shrouding his vision when clarity returned in the dark visors. It wasn't the first time he had done this ritual before battle, but right now, in this very moment at the edge between complete victory or total defeat, it felt quite heavy. Oscar gripped the shield and attached it to his forearm.

"Are we ready to set out?" Erden asked as the bells still rang.

"No. One more to consider. The preparations will stall them, but once they breach the barriers, the battle will come down to a single day." Oscar knelt, eyeing the line of elixirs. He took all the healing ones but paused on the others, considering what kind of battle he would fight. Resistances of earth, water, fire, lightning, and metal swirled in five vials. He could only take one at a time, the elixirs tending to clash if other effects were present. A certain enemy came to mind, one he had not seen for many years. He extended his hand and grabbed the grade-three Earthgate elixir, a deep, dull yellow glow pulsing inside the gray liquid. 'I'm ready for you, Orden.'

Outside, he was greeted by the horrified stampedes of civilians pouring into the inner sections of Dragonheart City, millions of steps clattering on the cracked pavements. Mothers carried their crying children tightly while crying themselves. Fathers hugged them tighter and protected them from being pushed away. The old, the frail, and the sick crawled their way, dragging their feet along the stone roads. From high above, Oscar saw it all and frowned. There were too many, far too many to protect properly.

Reaching his post near the Imperial Palace, he floated down to his Black Aegis Order, still thirty strong. He patted the frightened Susan's hair, always feeling like a brother to her. Her grip on her staff loosened as she nodded, taking deep breaths exactly how he taught her. Another group strode forward, their uniforms that of the Abyss Prison, his master's prison guards, the sadists who loved their prisoner's pain.

"I greet the Warden's disciple. I am Rocs, and my master has stationed everyone of Knight Exalt realm and below under your command." Rocs knelt, his plated armor clanging on the floor, followed by the others.

"Where is my master?" Oscar asked.

"The Warden is in the Blue Ocean Pavilion. We were quickly teleported through the short portals at his command. Use us as you deem fit. Our lives are yours to throw away." His devotion and fearlessness stunned Oscar.

"Fifty of you. That's good enough. Alec, can you factor them into our ranks?" Oscar faced Alec.

The wily Alec smirked, "Naturally. Leave it to me, commander."

"Oscar!" Gavir landed nearby, his golden armor quite catching under the sunlight. His Drakiri forces gathered behind him. "Orders from above. You and I are to guard the gates to the Imperial Palace with my grandfather and Director Austell Jones. The others are positioned at other key locations."

A deep groan rumbled from above, two others joining in the bellow of creaking metal. Three Garantulems floated above, Excrusiers in their centers and surrounded by vast fleets, pointed outward like three arrows loosened in three directions. Once they all found their positions, silence befell the entire city, the roads empty of all life, a scene never seen in the empire's history. Oscar floated up, peering over the horizon. Up above, the Dragnar Ancestor, Caires Vanholt Dragnar, stood firm, his proud and powerful figure becoming a beacon for all to look at.

Sparks ignited in the faraway sky, the earth quaked, and pillars of inferno flames rose. Storms blotted out the sun and covered the blue sky as lightning rained down in thunderous booms, all aimed at an unknown target, but Oscar and everyone else knew who was coming. A few hours later, many shapes dotted the stormy sky. Narrowing his eyes, he saw a great fleet approaching from all directions. Smoke and flames covered some of the ships as they fell apart and crashed to the ground. At least the preparations they toiled endlessly to set up had done some damage.

"Not bad, Caires. You pulled out all of your forces to the Pavilion and Dragonheart." Someone spoke, her voice enthralling many like a siren, soft, direct, and pleasing to the ears. Above the barrier, a woman dressed in imperial red robes floated down from the storms. Her face held deep wrinkles, but anyone could tell she was a devastating beauty in the past, shadows of her former beauty still gracing her countenance as a pair of orange eyes matched the aged white hair. Two eagle-like wings, sculpted from white jade, extended from her shoulders.

"Visellan. It has been many years since that time in Ashen Grove." Caires grumbled. The old woman's identity became clear: the old ancestor of the Scarlet Griffon Empire, Visellan Edon Griffreen.

"It can't be a gathering of rulers of Farsky without the rest of us." Another voice called out from the storm. His booming voice trembled the earth.

"It's a pity we can't fight. I would have relished in tearing you apart, Caires." A second added on. Winds swirled around his figure.

One wore loose black robes. The shirt was cut down from the collar to reveal a set of bulging muscles on the chest and stomach. He had white hair and brown eyes. His tall height matched Caires, and he gave a hearty smile—the old ancestor of the Black Tortoise Empire, Radon Sigfried Torton.

The last one wore teal robes and a hood and mask to cover all but his teal eyes. Winds scattered away from his presence as gusts flew away every second. His thin, stick-like frame only further the insidious danger Oscar felt within the old ancestor of the Emerald Hydra Empire, Orokon Galeius Hydrakes.

"Radon, Orokon, and Visellan…you three must have paid quite a price to invoke your ancestral powers to destroy Wyrmir." Like Wyrmir, the other three empires also had their special means drawn from the beasts from which their empires took their namesake. The only force that could have taken down Wrymir would have been those three.

"What's the point if we lose? Though, it is strange. The Primanomachy should be over by now. I wonder where your precious Grade Nine boy is. I haven't heard any news." Orokon said.

"Enough prattling, Orokon. We have to end this before a glimmer of hope is rekindled." Visellan chided.

"Indeed!" Radon bellowed. "Let's have the biggest battle this war has ever seen. Are you prepared, Caires?"

"Come. We will show you that our empire still stands to the last!" Caires raised his arm, and all of Dragonheart City erupted into chanting, their warcries reaching the farthest ships in the enemy fleet. "All forces! Fight to the death!"

Oscar shouted, "Black Aegis Order! The last battle has begun!"

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