The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Oscar wasn't in the best state. His arms barely held themselves up, enough to cover his face and have his elbows tucked in by his sides. He could not move forward, his legs trembling to the soles of his feet, slightly shaking the dirt underneath. Checking his core, he grimaced at the dull state of his Exolsia, completely wrung out of Ein, and using Ein Awaken would require a sliver of Ein to recover. He required ample time for his core to return to a state of being able to absorb Ein, but that was time he did not have.

Orden stepped closer, dragging the feet of pebbles that resembled a chicken's feet across the small yet wide distance between them. Oscar checked the status of his wounds. At least his body wasn't completely ruined, the effects of Orden's spells lessened by the Earthgate elixir he drank earlier, a prudent and wise choice that allowed him to endure until now. Still, extending this fight or taking any more injuries would worsen his condition.

"Os…Oscar." A whisper sounded from the mouthless stone figure. The lonely figure, barely held together by pebbles, finally arrived before him, within an arm's reach.

Oscar didn't respond. He focused every ounce of his attention on Orden's movements. A slight breeze fluttered over, nearly knocking Oscar back to the ground. He tensed his numb toes and clenched his cold palms, breathing heavily. Just resisting a small wind was a challenge. Orden fared no better and swayed to the wind, his pebbles clanking and pittering on each other. Oscar's eyes gleamed clearly, meeting Orden's stone face. Though there were no eyes, he could tell Orden was looking right at him.

"Oscar!" The pebbly fingers clenched hard, a clump of gravel three inches wide, and swung at Oscar. It was slow but glowed from the last remaining Ein Oscar sensed inside Orden, the other rock arm falling apart into pebbles that landed softly on the slate.

'That's an impressive technique, Oscar. You have a good talent for Reis to create a technique like that….What? You want to call it Reis Puppet….That's a terrible name. Let's call it Reistand, a mix of Reis and stand, and it sounds like resistance.' A familiar face of gray eyes and ashen white hair came to mind, and a deep memory from years ago echoed in his thoughts. Adam once praised him for creating this technique, which he never had a chance to use since his battles often ended after he had expended all of his power.

'Take this, Orden!' His feet shuffled, taking in a tiny amount of Reis, the most his movements could generate. His torn muscles shifted, and he endured through beads of sweat overflowing from his head. The Reis flowed, a burst on his left foot to lift it slightly and step in, a burst on his hip to turn, a burst on his shoulder to swing his arm, a burst on his elbow to lock in and aim, and a burst on his wrist to line up.

He created The Reistand technique in the Burning Valley after realizing he always fought too hard, leaving nothing for the aftermath. The smallest amount of Reis held the greatest impact if used properly. He realized that after sparring with Adam, who had incredible control over Reis. With Reis, he controlled his movements like a puppeteer, and his own body was the puppet—his fist targeted beyond Orden's fist, a full counter against a straight punch.

His knuckles, containing the last of the Reis, cracked against the oddly soft, smooth stone head. He gave one final shout, putting his entire body weight into it by tripping himself forward. The stone head began to cave in from his fist, which drove deeper into the rock, and his bare knuckles protruded out the other side. Orden's entire body collapsed into a pitiful sprawl of pebbles, and the stone head broke apart, falling to the ground.

"You, too. At least you returned to your former self at the end." Oscar saw the world start to ascend, the horizon of the earth rising as the sky pulled away, and he realized he was falling, staring at the gray slate. Erden caught him, his one wing preventing him from planting his head on the dirt. Smiling, he asked, "What took you so long?"

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"I just recovered enough to move. Is it over?" Erden asked. Underneath, his hooves were all shattered, a pulsing mess of flesh and blood where they used to be. One of his antler wings was bent and crooked, like a broken branch hanging onto the tree by a thread.

"It's over. He's dead." Oscar grunted, leaning on Erden for support. His shaky fingers dug into the space pocket, rummaging around, creases of irritation forming on his brow as he couldn't properly grasp the elixirs he needed. Finally, he pulled out two vials of healing elixir, biting down on the corks to pop them open. After drinking one and feeding another Erden, Oscar shivered from the cold, refreshing waves of healing soothing his muscles, wounds, and bones.

The pebbles that used to be Orden's body shook, and a faint Ein pulsed. The air split apart before him, a wide corridor through space forming. It was his way back to Dragonheart City. He had no proof, but he knew it to be true. Oscar had fought for a while against Orden and wondered what happened outside. Nodding to Erden, he limped to the portal and stepped inside. Instantly, the scene changed, and the thick smell of blood scrunched his nose.

"W-what happened…." He stammered. Half of the Imperial Palace had collapsed, all the towers had fallen, and nearly every part of the city rested in a pile of its own rubble. The large dust clouds covered everything else at ground level, but looking down, Oscar made a terrified, incoherent noise, his heart stilled, his ears pale and cold. His ankles rested deep in a pool of blood.

"Fred? Emily?" Oscar's hoarse voice called out, but he choked on dust, making his shouts into whimpers. Walking through the blood pools, some splashing on his pants, he wheezed out more names, "Susan, Uren, Ester, Alec. Where is everyone? Gavir?" The foul stench of death stopped his nose and Erden's nose from tracking anyone's scent.

He wandered up the path to the destroyed Imperial Palace and noticed a body garbed in a black cloak with a golden aegis on the back–one of his men. Supported by Erden, Oscar neared the body and knelt, not minding the blood soaking his legs. It did not compare to the horrifying reality before him. Placing his hands over the cheeks of the chestnut-haired woman, Oscar shook her gently, trying to rouse her, but her eyes were already closed in eternal slumber. He called out her name, "Susan…."

Her hands grasped the staff he crafted for her. Judging from the wounds, she was impaled by a spear from the front, and her throat was slashed. Holding back the tears, Oscar patted the girl's head, took off her identity token, and left, eyes trembling and terrified. A few feet ahead were Uren and Esther, husband and wife, dead in each others' embrace. He called out their names and tried to wake them to no avail. Only apologies came out of his mouth before he gave them a final farewell and took their tokens.

Oscar limped ahead and found more bodies of his Black Aegis Order members and some Drakiri, the golden armor dyed red. After checking each one and taking their tokens, he stopped by another body, one leaning against a stone wall, his arms resting to the sides while his chest had a hole that no longer bled. He knelt and lifted the head to see. The fox-like face and wily features of Alec, his former cellmate and strategist, greeted him. The eyes had dulled since a long while ago, and the face was paler than before, cold as ice.

"Alec. I'm sorry. From the prison to this." Oscar noticed the wrecked bodies of Sentinels near the stairs around this section of the road. They no longer functioned, the blue-glass eyes emitting no glow. Their torn metallic bodies rested on the pavement, surrounded by the corpses of many enemies. While he fought against Orden, the others outside fought a worse battle, overwhelmed by numbers. Now that his head became slightly clearer, he listened closely and frowned.

There was no sound of cannons or ships or fighting. What happened? Oscar took Alec's token and looked around the dust. Most of his hearing was muffled, still ringing from the devastation of Orden's attacks. Disorientated, he leaned on Erden and vomited, gasping for air. Where was everyone else? What happened to Celestina, Charles, Gavir, his master…everyone?

"Emily? Fred?" Oscar called out and continued his path down the blood-soaked road, dragging himself up the stairs where blood trickled down in nauseating, gentle streams. He put more power into his lungs and shouted, "Fred! Emily!"

Everyone else was dead, but those two were unaccounted for. He held hope that they were still alive and trekked closer to the ruined Imperial Palace.

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