The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

'This feeling…' Oscar rose and let go of Avril's hand, his palm sweaty. The summer breeze of the grasslands, filled with the fresh earthy scent, failed to soothe the unsettling discomfort itching his chest. Something was amiss. Glancing down, he stroked Avril's sleeping face and apologized as he got off the fur pelts and exited the barely intact lodgings, leaving her alone. Everyone passing by regarded him with looks of respect, a slight bow or nod here and there. Some hurried toward him, but he waved them off and wandered down the former ancient streets, striding over the overgrown grass amongst the scattered old paved roads.

His heart felt heavy as his mind became unsettled by a nervous tick like a hammer tapping lightly on his skull, his teeth grinding in irritation. He stopped by the broken ramparts, by the entrance where an archway certainly once stood, and turned back, finding that no one had followed him. Whatever had stirred his heart, Oscar didn't wish for any other to fall under its influence. Almost as if his feet were driven by something other than his mind, they trekked outside the ruins and into the wilderness.

A faint breeze rolled over and tickled the blades of grass, parting a few from their stems as they scattered and fluttered in a shower of green, the fresh smell of deep earth and fresh plants filling the air. But Oscar remained stoic, unable to enjoy the peaceful nature greeting him as his eyes narrowed toward the lonely tree standing in the distance and the figure sitting by it who waved his hand. The man smiled underneath the hood covering his face and gestured for Oscar to join him. It was the wanderer he met early on years ago in the wastelands.

"Welcome, Oscar. Come on, there are some fresh herbs here that can make some good tea. I know you certainly enjoy a nice cup, don't you?" The wanderer plucked some stems and tore off the yellow leaves.

Oscar kept a distance, his hand gripping the white sword, having one good swing in its nearly broken edge. Searching his memories, he frowned and paced slightly from left to right and back again, attempting to see what features rested under that hood. The man seemed to know him personally from the words spoken. But he had no familiarity with the wanderer, but the irritation, the feeling of his heart being squeezed demanded otherwise. He knew him, but he wondered who. No person or beast matched the voice, the tone, or the shape. Oscar glared at him and asked, "Who are you? How do you know me?"

"Remember what I said when we first met? That Fallen Heaven is the nexus of fates and destinies intertwining. Old enemies meet, new hatreds erupt, old friends reunite, and new bonds are forged. Which one do you think I am?" The wanderer rose and patted down his cloak, shaking off the dirt and grass. "Go on, tell me."

"Do you hate me? Have we fought, and you decided to take revenge?" Oscar sighed, pushing his white sword slightly out of its sheath. "I want no more quarrels. Let it be settled. There's nothing good that would come out of it."

The wanderer chuckled, "Oh, how you've changed, how you've changed so much. Far from the young Exalt who fought with the resolve of a thousand men. My dear boy."

His voice remained the same, but the tone had shifted, the pace slow yet lively. But Oscar knew the rises and falls of the whimsical tone very well, and the last few words shook his mind, his eyes wide and round as he stared blankly at the wanderer. It was too familiar, a more youthful voice. Nevertheless, it was still very quite familiar. "No," Oscar shook his head and gasped, clutching his chest, the lungs straining yet incapable of breathing. He clenched his trembling knee with the other hand. "No, he's dead. You're not him. That's impossible. He's dead!" He raised his voice. It couldn't be him.

"Come now, knowing who I am, did you honestly think I would let myself die so easily? Though death is an interesting concept. In a way, I am not the man you knew, but at the same time, I sort of am. Can we say that I did die on that day? Or perhaps this is a form of living on." The wanderer's hand crept closer to his hood and slowly lifted it off, unveiling his true appearance. Confusion swept over Oscar as his eyes wandered over the man's features. He had a bed of black hair stretching down to his waist, an open, handsome face that exuded warmth and gentleness, and a thin, welcoming smile. A pair of deep, black eyes, not unlike the void, latched onto him.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"You're not him." Oscar panted, beads of sweat dripping off his pale face.

"Like I said. It's up to your interpretation. However, right now, I am who I am supposed to be. I am Saul."

Hearing that declaration, Oscar dropped to his knees in a loud thud, strength fading from his legs and refusing to return. Horrid, sickening memories flashed across his sight, his neck and chest burning. The sensation of a hand choking him and another plunging into his ribcage, the chilly grasp gripping his core, engulfed him as if he had sunk into a quagmire. He gave the supposed Saul a fiery glare and growled despite the weakness spreading, "That's impossible."

"Lad…you know the answer. Expand that mind of yours? What other ways are there to live on? You know one quite well and even learned from him." The fake Saul grinned a toothy smile, far different from the smile of gums and little teeth Oscar was used to. "Chronems, the golems of legends. Place one's memories and ego into a golem's body. Your friend, Gol-4, was a marvel."

"You're not a golem…you…." Oscar realized the truth, stunned for a second time.

"You catch on fast now, pity. I quite liked that when you were young, so naive but full of resolve and youthful determination, so blind to what was in front of you. I miss those days, boy. I truly do." Saul leaned on the tree and munched on a fruit taken from its branches, fresh juice leaking from the closed lips. "I admit the chances were very low. I had to go through thousands of test subjects, requiring them all to possess a higher grade Exolsia, but only one body could take in my memories and be overridden by my ego. This man, before you, was just an orphan my New Dawn picked up a long time ago. Lucky for me, he also had a Grade Eight Exolsia. Now, I could have settled for a Grade Seven, but luck smiled upon me."

"You're a monster. Get away from me!" Oscar shouted.

"Come now, I admit I did have a hand in much of your suffering. What's done is done. After further observing what happened, I realized I would never have succeeded, even with your core. Old Rem's words were right. The old me was too foolish. So, no need for me to do anything now." Saul crouched and tilted his head, studying Oscar. "I mean, what did I do that was so bad?"

"Killing my friends, my parents, my master, betraying me, and trying to take my core. You fucking piece of shit." Oscar wheezed through clenched teeth.

"Your parents? Did I do that?" Saul rubbed his chin in clear contemplation, then snapped his fingers. "I didn't. And I'm sure all the memories are in here. Ah! I see. I did kill your friends, your Black Aegis Order, and that lad, Draven. But not your parents. I think I must have lied when I said. Anything to put you in further despair."

"You think? So you don't have those memories?" Oscar gripped his knees. That came as a surprise but a welcome one, a flicker of hope in the encroaching darkness.

"I stored my memories quite often but never had a chance to update them since I, well, died. I know everything before I went to you on that farm. And that is why I am here. Tell me what happened." Saul stared at the eaten fruit, only the core and seeds remaining, and chomped on them, crunching them between his teeth. "Draven is dead. I can't interfere again against Caires because of the protection of that blue-haired brat and the Primaere of the Bloodlands. And Old Rem is with you, under the Snail Primaere's protection. So, what happened? I watched the recordings taken from afar, but I never understood what happened when I almost had your core."

"No…begone." Oscar snorted and rose to his feet, strength welling up again. Finally, he had leverage over Saul.

"Ok. I'm in no rush, boy. No rush at all." Surprisingly, Saul gave up. "I'm enjoying my newfound youth, and I owe you and your gang of little miscreants for helping clean up my New Dawn. Too many parts, so little cohesion. Now, we're all united in one."

"I won't be deceived anymore." Oscar unsheathed his sword and split into two bodies. However, Saul vanished into thin air, not even a hair of his being remaining amongst the green pastures. Oscar darted his gaze and couldn't spot a hint of Saul. Shivering, Oscar leaned on his sword for support.

"We'll meet again, boy. Prepare yourself for the final year, and we'll see each other in the tower." Saul's whispers traveled on the winds and crawled down Oscar's spine, proclaiming the nightmare was not over.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!