The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Oscar reluctantly closed his eyes, skeptical of Volten's motives. As seconds passed, Volten's exaggerated breaths resounded, and Oscar's lungs mimicked the rhythm of the draws and releases, starting and ending as one breath. Strangely, he heard every trickle of water plopping into the moat, every minute droplet pitter-pattering on the edges of the arena. He didn't realize it before, but now, he could hear a faint groan, a low tone, calling out from the platform underneath, and a sonorous hum singing from two suns above. His heartbeat thumped like a hammer on an anvil as bones creaked louder than a thunderous storm. His blood sounded as if it was the high tides of the seas.

Every part of his body screamed out in its own unique ways, a cacophony of flesh, bone, organs, and blood interrupting the other, not a single part working in harmony.

"Slow your blood, ease your heart and organs, set the bones, and mind the flesh. Let all become one, a single sound that represents you." Volten's voice pierced through the disharmony. "Here, you can hear everything, from every beat of a fly's wings to the blood flowing in your veins. Control yourself. Let them merge. First, start with the bones. Firm them."

Oscar followed Volten's instructions one by one. He locked his joints and tightened the sinews tying his bones, and they began to shuffle and creak in one motion, one sound. While he had been copying Volten's breathing, that was only a shallow attempt, and he delved deeper, controlling his lungs in the minuscule details, from lifting the diaphragm to an exact spot to the contraction of his lungs. As his breathing eased, the rest of his organs followed, riding the pulsing of his hypnotic breathing. It perfectly matched the shuffling of his bones. Volten continued to instruct, and Oscar listened. His flesh softened and accompanied his organs and bones in their little song.

Lastly, his heart needed correction. Oscar slowed it slightly, bit by bit, weakening the beating. It was severely off-beat from the rest of his body, causing his blood to rush and threaten to throw it all off balance again. Slowing his heart further, Oscar found the spot, and finally, his body sang as one, a single beat and rhythm. It was quite pleasant. His body hadn't felt so comfortable other than in certain activities with Avril, the rest of the time spent in pain and discomfort. He could stay here and listen to the song from within forever.

It went on for hours. But soon, the comfort faded, and a storm brewed in the once-clear mind that had been focused on the tune. Oscar gritted his teeth, disaligning his skull and jaw from the rest of the bones' rhythm. The disharmony cascaded to the rest of his bones, and thus, the entire symphony collapsed. He could barely wait any longer and banged his fists on the floor, opening his eyes to see his knuckles reddening from the impact. It was fine at first, but how much longer did he have to wait? Avril was out there, and he had to find her. Volten was wasting his precious time, which he could have spent better out there.

"Your mind is greatly disturbed. I understand." Volten's white eyes studied him as a sigh leaked from his mouth.

"Do you?" Oscar rubbed his knuckles. The arena was harder than he thought. It absorbed and rebounded the force of his fists back onto him, the material of shocking quality comparable to the gate prior. He returned his attention to Volten and said, "You claimed my legs would work again."

"I hoped that we could have sorted through your problems in a slow, drawn-out meditation. But, indeed, love can be quite chaotic and unsettling." Volten chuckled and gazed elsewhere as if revisiting a long-lost memory. He reached out his arms and opened his palms. "Take my hands. I wanted to avoid it, but you give me no other options."

Oscar looked at the palms adorned by cuts and calluses, the hands of a veteran who had fought in countless battles. He raised his hands but halted, hesitant to follow through, wary of what he might face. He stared at Voltens, eyes sharp and direct, and saw the old one's eyes were already closed as if knowing his decision. He waited and waited for several minutes for the man to move or speak as the moat received its replenishing water. Like two statues, they remained in the center before Oscar finally moved and gave in, grasping Volten's hands.

Darkness took him. He found himself falling into an infinite darkness with no one else besides him. His voice lost its power, his screams lost to the void, never to reach his ears or anyone else's. Down he went, down he delved, and further he fell. Regaining his calm, Oscar observed his surroundings, attempting to map out where he was, but there was only darkness and himself. As the winds of his fall intensified and roared, brushing abrasively on his skin and pulling on his hair, Oscar instinctively raised his arms as a guard and braced for impact but noticed he was slowing down.

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"I see much pain, so much pain." Volten appeared out of the darkness and hoisted him to stand. "I can help you walk again, but whether or not you can overcome is an entirely different matter."

"What?" Before he could clarify and ask further, the darkness cleared and faded, revealing a horrid scene. Looking around, Oscar sank to his knees, drenching his legs in thick pools of blood. A sudden sense of dread and regret pierced his heart as if he'd been stabbed by a sword. He snapped his eyes wide open, staring blankly in horror that paled his skin. Bodies, half-drowning in the blood, sprawled over the scarlet street, and somehow, his legs forced him to venture across to witness it all again, the scene of the massacre.

"They were your soldiers, your friends, your followers." Volten walked beside him.

"They were. They were." Oscar mumbled, glancing listlessly at the familiar faces. When he saw a series of stairs, blood trickling down its steps, he grabbed his knees, unwilling to see what was beyond because he knew what awaited him past the haunting stairs. His mind burned as if on fire, a raging inferno boiling his skull. Oscar clutched his head and struggled, ears deafened by silence, choking out his screams. The memory vanished, and darkness returned. Kneeling in the dark, he felt like vomiting, but it was impossible in this space.

"You're not ready to face them. Do you even remember that scene clearly?" Volten asked, pacing around him.

"I don't want to. I know how it was." Oscar coughed.

"Perhaps a different memory may suffice." From the moment the words left Volten's lips, the darkness shifted and gave way to a new memory, or rather, the scene of one.

Flames devoured and replaced vast fields of grains. Black fumes poured out from the burning piles of houses and bodies, searing the lands into a scorching red and charred black. Oscar was flying this time, overlooking the entire devastating scene, his home burning into piles of ash and rubble, the stables, fields, and hills engulfed in flames. The burning scent assaulted his nose, and he held it shut, sickened by the smell. 'No.' He thought as his body floated toward a certain direction, dragging him against his will to a nearby farm, uneven stones on a path toward a small home, now catching fire. Once more, he regained control by the doors and clung to the dirt, unwilling to move forward.

He had enough of this. He screamed, "What is this? To torture me?!"

Volten sat beside him, patting his shoulder, which he brushed away. The old warrior said, "Each time you refuse to go further. What lies behind that burning door, young warrior?"

"No." Oscar groaned, clutching his head again. The darkness claimed the fires and drowned them.

It was madness. Oscar wanted to leave and escape, but no matter where he ventured out, there was only darkness, and Volten didn't seem keen on letting him go. It showed him more. Oscar passed the tall tower city of Orbis before the insect Velfen arrived close by, and he averted his eyes, shutting them as the city fell into ruins. He sat for a week in the ruins of his home and grimaced, knowing what came next. Elder Saul arrived and began to speak, and his head felt like thousands of needles had impaled deep into his brain.

"You have been through it all. Yet, none are you willing to see them through." Volten spoke as the darkness returned.

"Shut up…." Oscar no longer cared and decided to wait until the end or when Volten gave up.

"I know. It's hard to face what happened. I know it well." Volten exhaled deeply as the darkness waned once more, but this time, Oscar knew it was not his memory, not a single bit familiar to him. But the stench of the battlefield, of corpses, blood, and fire was too familiar.

Countless bodies, far more than he could count, dotted the lands, not a single inch free from a rotting corpse. They lined the rocks and crevices across the hills and up the cliffs, their blood running in rivers along piles of ashes and collapsed castles and ships. What manner of battle occurred here? What great war had been waged? This time, Volten led the journey, his feet slow and solemn, digging into the flaky dirt. It was his memory. Oscar swept his gaze everywhere. There were as many bodies on the ground as there were stars in the night sky.

"Stop." Volten halted before they could go over a hill. "Beyond this point, I can't allow you to see."

"Then why bring me here?" Oscar asked.

"I can't allow it without a fight." Volten leaped backward and made some distance, narrowing his eyes as a dangerous gleam shone from within the white pupils.

"Are you serious?" Oscar thought he was joking.

"Fighting is a process by which our minds liberate themselves. We must fight now so we can endure the pain of what follows." Volten clenched his fists and took a stance. "Fight me."

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