The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Avril hummed a simple tune, sometimes whistling as her foot tapped the hard white wood. Solara had crafted the house well, leaving a finely cut slab of hard stone for a stove above a gap meant for a fire to burn and cook any on top. Her pot boiled, the lid clattering and spinning about the tip as if dancing to her song. She raised the lid, her ears perking from the sudden rising sounds of bubbles breaking en masse. The pleasant, delectable scent of cheese and herbs forced her to swallow her saliva, her nose imprisoned by the overwhelming smell. After a short whisk, she lifted the wooden spoon, nodding at the drippings that hung from the edge. The soup was done.

Taking the pot off the stone stove, Avril toasted some slices of hard bread, slathering some bits of butter to add flavor. They quickly cooked to a golden brown, and she plated the food on the table: two bowls of cheese soup and a plate of toast. Oscar always fondly described the taste of his mother's cheese soup and how much he wished to return and share a meal with his family. Avril turned to him, his figure resting on the wheelchair by the window, the fiery glow from the Beak of Ra and the two suns pouring onto him. She held the handles and pushed him softly, wheels squeaking louder than mice ever could.

She had designed them to be loud on purpose. If Oscar should move of his own volition and will, indicating his recovery, the loud squeaking would not escape her attention. Regrettably, Demon woke up and set her off; hence her asking him to back down and rest for however long Oscar needed. The day seemed far away, though. After a series of squeaks and turns, Oscar made it to the table, unmoved by the smell of hot cheese soup.

Avril kissed him on the crown of his head and sat beside him, putting on a cheery smile. "I made your favorite. She doesn't know how it compares to your–" She shut her mouth, held down by her hands, almost speaking of Oscar's mother. Speaking to Oscar felt like walking barefoot on glass, any slip of the tongue potentially setting him off, and she didn't want him to harm himself. Was it like that when he cared for her? Avril admired his side profile, urged by deep gratitude and love, and pecked his cheek, her heart racing as her smile formed dimples on her pink cheeks. "Thank you. Do I need to feed you? She holds up a spoon of cheese soup."

Thankfully, his mouth acted independently, eating the spoonfuls of soup she titled to his lips, not spilling a drop. She sipped directly from her bowl, the hot soup rushing down her throat and warming her insides, a pleasurable cry of delight exiting with a mouthful of steam. It was good, but based on how Oscar described the taste of his mother's, she still had a long way to go. Spoon by spoon, drop by drop, she fed Oscar, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief once finished.

Later, Avril took him over to another room, her eyes wide. Stone tiles lined up, bordering the large steaming pool of water, from which the clouds of steam covered the walls and floor in a vapor. The Phoenix Primaere had thought of everything for their accommodations. Delighted, she lifted Oscar, his tall body barely clinging to her thin arms, and laid him on a white bench. First, his shirt was tossed off, revealing the thin scar, her gaze quickly avoiding it. She glanced over his artificial right arm. How much had he suffered? She wondered. Was it the steam, or was it tears that trickled down her face?

The metal arm came off with loud clicks, needles retracting from his nerves on the shoulder. He no longer needed it. Avril took out a vial of grade-five healing elixir, gifted to her by Remulus and very precious. She diluted a drop in another vial and had Oscar drink it all, a short stub protruding from the right shoulder, the sprout of a new arm. Unlike an ear or a finger, the arm was too complex. She would feed him the entire vial if possible, but his injuries fared better if healed drop by drop.

'Well, we have all the time now.' Unashamed, she undressed him and herself fully, dipping in the bath together. Avril felt lightheaded from the hot water, her skin blushing red as sweat and vapors glistened. Her braids came undone, her hair flowing freely; she sighed in relief, resting her head on Oscar. In all these years, decades of waiting, these moments were what Avril missed most: the idle time spent together. She scrubbed his body, wiped off the old blood, and washed his hair. Once dried, she dressed him in clean white robes, a matching pair for her own.

The light from the Beak of Ra still brightened the entire house. Avril peeked out the window, seeing the stars and moon in the distance. The downside to living here was that the burning mountain never ceased, forever showering the entire forest in its light. She had forgotten to set up curtains, but a yawn escaped her lips, and a wave of exhaustion slumped her body, leaning on Oscar's head on the wheelchair. It seemed she had to leave it for tomorrow. Instead, she boarded up the windows in the bedroom, satisfied with the comforting darkness suitable for sleep.

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"Let's see…what do we have?" Avril searched through Oscar's space pocket and the dimensional cube that Erden left with her before leaving. She hadn't expected this amount of wealth, vast amounts of gold coins, materials for alchemy and forging, and grade-four metal elemental elixirs. Curiously, other than the mass of books, two simple journals caught her eye. One had the signature of a man named Isaac, and her memory recalled the Gol-4 Oscar mentioned multiple times. Putting that aside, she looked at the other, which had the signatures of a man named Draven and a woman named Tasha.

'Draven…wasn't that Oscar's master?' Avril flipped through the pages, careful not to let the torn ones fall out. She couldn't help but smile and read on. It detailed several recipes for amazing dishes, using other kinds of techniques Avril had never learned, not from the standard cookbook she learned from to cook for the children. All told, there were many recipes. Oscar did speak of the great feasts his master would reward him with, but she had forgotten until now. She didn't know this, Tasha, but she thanked her for these recipes. "I guess tomorrow, I'll try cooking from this book."

Together on the bed, Avril placed her hand over his eyes, closing them, "Sleep. I will be here tomorrow morning as well. She pulls him over to her chest and strokes his hair. I'll be here every day." She slowly closed her eyes, wondering how everyone else was doing.

…….

"Young Prielapos. Have you said your farewells?" A large Prielapos asked, his antler wings spanning twice the length of Erden's. Tall as trees, the antlers rested evenly on his head, sprawling in great ivory branches. The power rippling from the dense, muscular body of a great steed slightly intimidated Erden, sweat dripping from his forehead. The large Prielapos chortled, laughing in short grunts, "With your Blood Transmutation, you have an edge that will surpass me in no time. Now come!"

"Will I be stronger?" Erden asked. With him and Oscar fighting together, they could halt three Grade Eight Exalts of the same realm, but humans had Integration, the highest form of Anima power, and more varied spells and abilities. He needed to be stronger, strong enough to fight three alone.

"Follow me and find out, young one."

"Stingy old beast. Fine, let's go." The land quaked as the winds burst into a storm. Erden dug his hooves into the dirt and held on before soaring after the powerful Prielapos, who left devastation in his trail. Staring back at the continent where Avril settled, he roared, his voice echoing into the deep night. He hoped for Oscar to greet him upon his return.

…….

Solara flapped her fiery wings once, instantly descending from the top of the Beak of Ra to the middle level where a mound of ashes smoldered, faint and small flames flickering on its slopes. She regarded the smaller phoenix next to it and brushed her claws on the cleansing fire. "How is she?"

"The primordial flames inside her and the marks on her skin worked in her favor. She is alive for now. Time will tell if she will be reborn in flame." The phoenix spoke quickly. "But my Primaere, doing all this for a human is–"

"I understand your doubts. But the Ancient has spoken, and this one, while human, is still of the flame and has gained the Ancient's favor." Solara towered over the phoenix, her beak lowering at him.

"I have been impudent. I will care for the human." The phoenix retracted his wings, folding them by his sides, and bowed.

…….

"Damned monster," Marcus grunted, carrying a coffin on his back, attracting a ton of strange gazes. A few days ago, Remulus tasked him to take Eve and travel north to where his supposed old friend lived. He glanced back at the coffin, hearing Eve's soft breathing from within. Relieved, Marcus ignored the surrounding glares and strode down the wide path, passing through a busy marketplace. The crowd parted, creating a pathway down for him.

It was late afternoon when the dinner rush usually occurred at places at these. Countless masses streamed forth from the streets. Whenever someone came close, about to touch the coffin, he gave them a piercing stare, their bodies halting like prey before the predator. He grew more irritated, cursing the old man for pushing him to travel here. He admitted his blood churned upon reaching this city, the dragon in him feeling pleased.

Passing the ten towers that pierced into the deep blue sky, Marcus stopped and gently put the coffin down. A burly man stomped over, the ground cracking under his sheer weight, golden armor clanking. The man's head hid behind a golden helmet, the artistic dragon's wings extending from the sides, and his chest depicted a great dragon's head. Sweat beaded down Marcus's neck, the power of a Greater Marshal Exalt gripping his body, not letting him leave.

'He's even stronger than Hector and Helen.' Marcus assessed the warrior.

"I am Vostolf Rudinbery, the head of the Drakiri. Why have you come here?" Vostolf clenched his broadsword hung by the hip, his gauntlet creaking on the hilt.

"I am Marcus. I have come to meet with the Dragnar Ancestor, Caires." Marcus answered, clenching his dagger, ready to let the dragon take over. As Marcus reached into his pocket, Vostolf and the other guards slowly unsheathed their blades, some lowering their spears to point their ends at him. Tossing a badge that Vostolf caught, a grunt of shock resounding from the helmet, Marcus stated, "Remulus Grant sent me. I have come for training."

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