The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

A century and more ago.

The clouds were dark on that day. Serit clung to the base of a broken pillar, biting his lips until they bled and dripped down his small chin. Screams and shouts failed to escape his lungs as fear clamped his breathing shut, his heart pounding against his chest. Black fumes ascended from the great fire around him that had consumed his home. The vast castle was ablaze. One of the walls cracked and collapsed, clattering in a rush of rubble, burying the fine carpets and wondrous paintings in a pile of fiery stones. He had once wandered the bright halls with his family and marveled at the wonderful collection of his ancestors, but now it all burned down, lying in ruin.

As for his family…Serit couldn't peel his eyes away from the horrifying sight. The servants, the maids, and his entire family rested in the courtyard, the flames not yet reaching them, but it didn't matter. They were all dead. Many had their heads cut off, others a deep wound in their chest, but none survived. Serit watched through the tears streaming forth, widening his eyes to witness the two facing off in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by the bodies of his family. He wanted to run and turned, covering his eyes from the oppressive light. The flames consumed the paths behind him, and these two blocked the entrance.

One was the current King Exalt of his family, the ancestor whom he didn't know the name of. He had a bed of gray hair, deep chasms of wrinkles streaking along his brow and sagging his cheeks, but a pair of red eyes akin to Serit's own flashed in defiance against the other. She was an old woman, very old, with several brown spots covering her droopy face and gray hair sprawling wildly like the witches in the stories his mother read. She stuck the end of her large scythe into the ground, the bright light of the flames glancing on its sharp edge that loomed overhead.

"Tell me," The old woman said in a wheezing voice like sand in her throat. "You had to be a good, loyal dog, but what changed? Why did you feel the need to strike against your master?"

"Lady Lilisa, my family had been loyal followers of the Primaere and the Triheaven Elysium since its inception. Because we have been by your side for many years, we must speak up when our masters are faltering." Serit's ancestor grimaced. His powerful voice, deep and bold, hadn't changed. Serit clenched his fist, believing his ancestor still possessed a way to win.

"Falter? Us?" Lady Lilisa laughed, the large lump on her neck quivering from each beat of her unsettling chuckle. "In what regard?"

"The Primaere doesn't care anymore. My forebearers once wrote of the brilliant dreams they believed in, the vision of a bright future the Primaere sought in his youth. Now, he has become old and lost himself. We tried to be the beacon of hope and a reminder of what we should aspire to. Our efforts were in vain. Now there is only decay of the spirit and rotting of the principles we held dear." The ancestor raised his dagger.

"If you decided to send your entire family and servants to death for such a pitiful reason, then you're a fool. We've really misjudged you." Lady Lilisa rubbed her gums around and raised her scythe.

"If that were all, we would have endured as long as we needed to. You and I know why you've come here with an army to slaughter us. The secrets you wish to keep hidden." His ancestor spoke cryptically, but Serit wished to know more. "Those vile things you've been doing. The abomination you seek to bring into this world insults Talos itself."

"And with that, you've resigned yourself to die." Lady Lilisa no longer wheezed as a shocking clarity rang across her voice. Serit felt his spine quiver and huddled his arms around himself, a chill freezing his veins.

"Did I have a choice ever since I learned the truth? Come then. There is only one path for me after this defeat." His ancestor stomped forward, a rush of dense Ein caving in the courtyard as it burst out and quelled the rampant flames. The fiery ruins of his castle turned into a smoldering mess, grayish fumes hissing from the surfaces of the white-ash bricks. Serit refused to blink and saw the two King Exalts clash in a single exchange. Blood splurted from the arm of the old lady as her scythe fell from her hands, the blade stabbing deep into the earth. Serit nearly cheered, his pride and joy at his ancestor's victory swelling.

However, he was gravely mistaken. He paled as his ancestor sunk to the ground, a clean cut across the waist parting the powerful King Exalt in two. The legs stood firmly, entrenched deep and refusing to kneel, but his ancestor's upper half rested amongst the corpses of the others, faint gasps degrading into choking sounds until only silence could be heard. His ancestor, a powerful Tricrown King Exalt, had fallen, a mere corpse amongst the many. Serit slumped, leaning on the broken pillar for support, eyes round and wet as he swept his gaze across the hundreds of bodies.

Steps interrupted him, sounding clear in his chaotic thoughts. Serit roused his legs, but they gave up on him, refusing to move an inch as the steps of the reaper drew closer. His heart thumped and struck like thunder, matching every foul footstep, a shadow of a scythe descending on him. He whimpered and lowered his head, feeling a cold blade, an icy touch on his neck, and his heart stilled, already believing it was dead. There was no escape from what he could tell. Like his family, he knew he would be killed and burned.

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"Look at me," the old lady called out. Serit hugged his knees and clacked his teeth as if naked in the winter. A disgusting, wrinkly hand held his chin, and she forcibly raised his gaze to look upon the devil itself. She revealed a ghastly smile, with nearly all gums and no teeth. Serit stammered out a cry. Lady Lilisa let him go and said, "You're fine. Life's boring without enemies. Grow stronger and challenge us. Good fodder like you, driven by self-destructive revenge, will be fine nutrients for good growth."

With that, the old lady vanished, and Serit couldn't hold back and vomited, a pungent scent of half-digested lunch spurring him to vomit more. Having no other option, he wandered the ruins and frowned, seeing no remnants of his family left behind. The corpses had been collected, the treasury looted, and the castle in ruins. Sitting on a toppled pillar, Serit sobbed, wiping his tears with his soot-ridden hands. He was alone. He screamed and kicked the pillar before punching it until his hands were red, dripping blood from the torn skin.

"Fine. I'll do it. I'll take revenge. You will regret letting me live!" Serit cried to the night sky. But how? The question stuck in his mind. He was too weak and not even an Exalt. Against the cold breeze, he wandered into the dark forest, stomping his little feet on the ground. He hoped one day, he would do the same to the Triheaven Elysium and the Lilisa Family.

For the next year, he traveled alone, hiding underneath carriages and sneaking onto airships for quick transports. But often, he found himself alone in the wilderness, his clothes ragged and caked in a year's worth of dirt and muck. Serit rested on the trunk of a tree, listening to the bird's chirping amongst the high leaves, a rare moment of peace in his endless travel. Where was he going? How would he get stronger? The questions remained unanswered.

As he leaned his head against the smooth bark, he heard a cry, a sorrowful sob that tugged on his heart. It was not unlike the tears he had shed when his family was slaughtered. Propping himself up, Serit listened closely and turned to the east, following the cries to a small gap in the forest where the sunlight showered down in a radiant circle, crisping the grass to a fine golden gleam. He stopped and stared at the small girl who buried her head full of brown hair into her arms and knees. She seemed to notice him and glanced up, a pair of dazzling golden eyes facing forward.

"Who are you?" The girl asked.

"Who are you?" Serit replied with the same question. His eyes softened, and he slowly approached, raising his arms high, her gaze following him with caution written in those pupils. Ever since he was a young toddler, he had a knack for understanding the faces and expressions of others.

"I'm Avila," The girl answered.

"And I'm Serit. Nice to meet you." Serit smiled brightly.

…….

"And that's how I met my wife. It was love at first sight." Serit chuckled. "She was closed off at first, but after many nights in the forest, foraging and hunting for food, she eventually talked more. Avila always had nightmares, screaming for her mother and little sister, and I had to comfort her every night, singing a lullaby my own mother had sung to me."

"Then, how did you end up in the Defiants?" Oscar asked.

"We avoided many towns and cities but happened upon a small battle. The elder your friend met in Belinicce was there, and he picked us up. There, we endured harsh training to become the rebels they needed us to be. Afterward, we traced Avila's sister's path to the Triheaven Elysium and discovered the document of her sale to Lelith Lilisa. Quite a coincidence that the faction that killed my entire family also enslaved Avila's sole remaining one." Serit frowned. "Avila wanted to go. She wanted to barge in and free her sister, but Lelith's movements were too hidden even from us."

Oscar exhaled sharply and lingered his eyes on the crackling fire. It seemed Serit and Avila had suffered much, similar to him and Avril. Shifting through Serit's retelling, one oddity stuck out to him, and he asked, "What is this abomination? Why did it end up in your entire family being slaughtered?"

"I don't know. My Azieth Family had deep ties to the Lilisa, but as a child, I knew none of the inner secrets, and my ancestor appeared to have found out rather than being told, or else it wouldn't have ended up in a massacre. The Defiants tried their best and couldn't figure it out. It's a complete black box after a certain point. I entered the intelligence division to find out. At the very least, I need to know why my family had to die before destroying the Lilisa Family."

"An abomination…." He received more information than he bargained for. Oscar contemplated, but Serit denied him time to rummage on the information.

"Your turn. What is Adventi?" Serit asked. "Why is it the Primaeres want it?"

Oscar pointed at the group behind Serit, and his brother-in-law obliged, ordering his men to descend for now. Oscar did the same for his group, and the two were now alone on the snowy peak, naught but the stars above and the abrasive winds as their company. Serit seemed eager and leaned forward, closer to the flames, to listen. Oscar closed his eyes, recalling Gol-4's mechanical laughter and jubilant bouncing of his head. That damned golem should never have told him.

"Adventi, a terrible name, but the man who named it didn't have a great record of good names," Oscar recalled Garantulem, Gatnons, and others, all strange names. "He chose it from the word 'advent', and if created, it can be the source of creation or destruction."

"That's normal, considering its importance. But I don't believe it warrants such greed if it is a simple weapon." Serit glared as if urging Oscar to hurry.

"The crazed maniac stowed its plans away. Gol-4 feared its potential and wished to bring it to light at another time, not one of war." Oscar sighed. "Adventi…is an eternal core."

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