The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Oscar felt heavy, his sweat-drenched robes pressing on his trembling skin like a tunic of hefty steel. He thought back to the encounter with the supposed new Saul and rubbed his neck, somehow feeling a hand gripping it tightly, his breath running short and pained. He took a deep breath as he stumbled to a moss-ridden wall, leaning on the old stones for support. A pair of Exalts strode past, not noticing his presence as they chatted on. Good, he couldn't show this state to anyone.

He reached into his space pocket and pulled out an elixir crafted by Aster. Oscar shook the bag made from a beast's stomach, hearing the elixir swishing inside, barely enough left for a good swig. The bitter taste spread inside his mouth as the few droplets trickled down his throat. Sighing in relief, he wiped off his sweat and closed his eyes to the lightheadedness, smacking his lips. Looking at the ground, he realized he had dropped his bag and knelt to pick it up, disappointed at the flimsy container, devoid of any elixir. He'd have to get Avril to make some more.

'Pathetic, relying on a draught.' Demon whispered.

'You're supposed to feel nothing, so why does it matter?' Oscar retorted, turning a corner on some ruins to evade the eyes of the others.

'I'm not on the side of this broken ego, but I'm inclined to agree. It's not healthy.' Ignyres chimed in.

'I'd prefer not sharing a body with an addicted fool.' Demon admitted.

'I'm not addicted.' Oscar groaned, rubbing his head. Conversing with these two gave him a nasty headache despite the lingering effects of the elixir.

Several dozens of feet later, he found himself standing before a broken archway and entered as if it were his home. His gaze landed on the yawning lady rubbing her tired eyes, a sight that warmed his chest and brought a faint smile across his lips. Avril mumbled a few incoherent words, her hair impossibly ruined in the short respite. She blinked a few times, her golden pupils regaining more color with each fluttering of her long eyelashes. Oscar couldn't help himself and rushed in, embracing her. She was far too alluring in her drowsy state.

"Oscar? What's wrong?" She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face into his neck, seemingly to know his anxiety as her hand brushed his hair. The simple act softened his tense body as he dropped, causing her to yelp.

"I'm tired," Oscar said, his head on her lap as she stroked his hair tenderly like a mother. A sneaking suspicion irritated him. A frown deepened on his lips as he realized there was no backing down. Everything up to this point, emphasized by the appearance of the new Saul, drove the fact he had no choice but to continue. He could already see the scene of him entering the tower, whether willingly or not. As Volten mentioned years ago, they were fighters who always got up, choice or no choice. But he feared losing more than he already did since Volten lost everyone and everything. Would his fate be the same?

"Bad!" Avril pulled on his ear. "No matter what, she knows they are fated to survive, and a happy ending waits for the couple."

"How can you be sure?" Oscar turned over and gazed directly into her loving pair of golden pupils.

"Because we're here for each other. She couldn't have made it this far without Oscar, and you couldn't have made it here without me." Avril covered his eyes. "Sleep. You always need sleep."

"Ah…." Oscar lost his voice and lost himself in the soothing warmth and mellow fragrance that tickled his nose. For the first time in a long while, he welcomed sleep, the best one in several years.

…….

'Master. Master. Master.' A beast's voice awakened him.

Oscar weakly opened his eyes to see the ten lights had dimmed for the night. The moonlight skimmed the outline of Avril's figure, lending her a certain holy presence perfect for his wife. Her hair fluttered to the breeze, playing with the weak lunar beams. Exhaling sharply, Oscar grabbed her attention, and as her head turned, he swept up and kissed her lips, thanking her for a good nap. Chuckling at her blushing cheeks, he pinched one side and turned to the beast, the snail from earlier.

"I never got your name," Oscar lent his palm to the snail, which became as small as a coin and leaped on. He raised the snail to his eyes.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

'I am Roak, descendent of King Squarmo.' Roak answered in a strange sound as if he was munching on food. 'Master, many of my brothers and sisters have been killed, but their deaths have not been in vain.'

"I'm sorry for that," Oscar said.

'Sorry for what?' Roak tilted his head, curling his eye-stems to the side, mimicking the human action of confusion. It seemed, unlike Carcoatl, his descendants had no sense of loss, not sparing an emotion at the news, or perhaps they all believed the deaths were worth it. He was no insider to the network of snails and how it worked, but he couldn't understand the indifference like Squarmo, who could only complain about sleep even though the King Snail knew many of his brethren would die in the escort.

"Never mind," Oscar stood up and grasped Avril's hand, tugging her along for a stroll. His focus remained on the snail. "Have you found everyone?"

'The key faces are all accounted for and are being led safely. As for others bearing Haven Academy marks, we got a sizeable few.' Roak slowly crawled up Oscar's arm and perched on his shoulder. 'They'll be here by tomorrow.'

Oscar required no more from Roak and enjoyed the walk with Avril, putting one foot forward at a time. He hadn't been able to walk beside her in decades, but now, he could. Squeezing her hand, he met her excited smile and rubbed off the faint tears on her cheeks. Certainly, ones of relief and joy meant for his cured condition. In a gentle voice, he said, "Once we're out. Let's find a nice farm and get away from it all."

"I like that," Avril swung his arm up and down in a joyous stride.

His gaze swept over their surroundings and honed in on the faint embers rising from the center of the ruins, a reddish font of light welling from below. Avril nudged on his waist, indicating for him to go, and he complied. In what should have been the main building of this outpost, a semblance of a roof still hanging above, several figures sat amongst the rubble, using the bricks and stones for chairs. In the center, a great brazier squeezed out a slew of embers as the flames waxed and waned. Many gazes turned to him and Avril.

"Young Lord and Lady, you have come just in time." Fenu bowed, followed by the other captains and Restel and Eve. The other fellows from Haven Academy saluted him. Astrid didn't, keeping to her decision to watch and decide later.

"Indeed, I didn't think you'd show. Welcome, my dear brother." Serit stood from the largest stone, resembling a poor throne, suitable for these ruins. "There's only one seat meant for you. I was simply keeping it warm." Avila frowned, gripped Serit's blond hair, and yanked it, both sisters having a strange similarity in punishments for their husbands.

His intentions were clear as day. Oscar sighed and trekked around the great fire, glancing over the large seat. Everyone gazed expectantly at him as he scanned the room, even receiving the acceptance from the Defiants. His feet stomped on the ground as he neared the stone, sinking deep into the dirt, heavier and slower they became the closer he drew. He stepped forward and sat on the stone, overlooking the others. Their faces shone with reverence, and their knees sunk to the ground. Serit nodded while Avila rolled her eyes and pulled Avril to the side.

"As everyone knows, the eleventh land will close off after the first night here. Anyone remaining outside will be lost forever." Serit started off, several grimacing at his words. But the spy continued, "Our best options would have been to work under the fold of another. However, our leader is wanted by the majority of the Primal Council, and it's unlikely the kind folks from Shattirma wouldn't have ulterior motives in housing him." He clapped his hands together and asserted, "So it's only us. First is to assess the situation."

"Roak and his siblings have counted at most five thousand Exalts making it through the border," Oscar said, pointing to the snail on his shoulder. Hushed whispers were exchanged, and many fearful glances were thrown here and there.

"What was the original count?" Fenu asked, clearly shaken.

"Estimated numbers suggested at least a million Marshal Exalts from all of Talos." Avila tightened her fist around his bow. "We're one of the lucky few."

"And now, the few survivors will spread into separate camps. Ah, right on schedule!" Serit extended his hand, and a ghostly green eagle landed on his arm, dissipating into smoke. In Serit's grip was a sealed scroll, easily snapped off and unfurled. His brother-in-law burned the scroll in the fire and scowled. "That's unfortunate."

"What is it?" Oscar asked.

"What happened as expected was the formation of two major powers, one being the mixture of the Divine Enforcers and the rest of the Primal Council's forces–some of my spies are in there now–and the followers of the Shattered Scion." Serit drew in the air with his Ein, creating a map of the eleventh land. Two marks appeared north and east of the tower. "The Primal Council is in the north, and Shattirma to the east."

"And what was unexpected?" Oscar asked again.

"Two camps of beasts have formed, one to the southeast, the closest to us. They're a mix of beasts from the Lands of Zeret and parts of Shattirma, so they should be friendly to us. But the others are from the Lands of Huides and taken control of the southwest." Serit frowned, flicking his finger to mark the map. "It's where the Cerberus King is from."

Oscar balled his hands into fists. The beasts from the Lands of Huides didn't believe in the new developments by the Ancients and clung to the old promises of the Volten saviors. He recalled Almos, the Hakkenbaren Boar King, expressing great disgust against them. Certainly, they were no allies in this land.

"Lastly is the west, where a new power has taken hold of the fortress. Led by Gilbert Lockwood." Serit marked the west.

"Huh?" Oscar and Avril shared a moment of confusion.

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