The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

'You're too far away. I've used Duality and traveled a city's length apart, but you're far past that.' Demon said, his voice oddly strained for a quick second before disappearing in the smooth indifference.

'Is it that tiring? I never expected that from you.' Oscar chuckled, enjoying the slight bits of Demon being troubled, a rarity yet somehow slightly more frequent since his return. The false sunlight of ten orbs was oddly soothing as he basked in their warmth. But his smile soon faded the closer Oscar drew to the dark tower. Sooner or later, he'd have to face them, certainly mainly as enemies, but face them regardless. Exhaling sharply, he soldiered on across the plains, hearing nothing. Nights of accursed screaming and mornings of Avril's loving chatters, followed by the constant chanting of his name by the others, made him forget what silence used to be like.

He didn't speak, wishing to experience these unique few hours of nothing happening to be seen or heard. Truly, these plains were beautiful, the endless green fields that stretched from side to side. If only the dark tower and ruins didn't exist to blemish this amazing countryside, regrettable. Oscar sighed and imagined enjoying a quiet picnic with Avril underneath the tree by the side. However, the possibility of enjoying peace waned by the day. He could tell something was coming, and he'd be involved.

A few hours later, Oscar arrived at the meeting spot noted by Serit's spies. A lone tower, a stick compared to the dark tower behind it, reached twenty feet high, the rest having been toppled over with chunks of old bricks sprawled over the grass. He heard some footsteps above and a few mumbles of whispers being exchanged as he stepped inside, clearly reacting to his presence. Past and up the old stairs, some missing, he entered an open room with barely any stones for a wall, the missing roof probably resting in the clutter of rubble down below.

"Huh?" A familiar voice called to him.

By a clean table that didn't fit the aesthetics of the tower, presumably carried over here, Gilbert Lockwood sat by one of the sides, staring at Oscar with a strange look. Oscar ignored Gilbert's scrutiny and focused on the one who called to him, her silver hair long and lustrous yet duller than the prime of her years and the emerald eyes wide but not as dazzling as before. It was Celestina. Age had an effect, but Oscar could tell she had suffered far worse to become this haggard, the stress blatant in her wrinkled brow. Perhaps the worst thing that had ever happened to her was the fact she was born a princess, burdened and forced to endure. She lowered her head, avoiding his lingering gaze as if ashamed.

Next to her stood a tall, beautiful woman who studied him from head to toe, her deep, red lips curling into a smirk on her thin face. She brushed her blond hair aside, revealing a devilish pair of scarlet eyes. Arlena Bluhan, the holy daughter of the Bloodlands, lived up to her reputation as a great beauty. However, despite being a direct descendant of a Primaere, she lacked the Ancestral Mark to be a real threat, at least, according to Serit's reports. Unafraid, he strode toward the table, not minding the mixed stares.

"Well, this is quite the gathering already. The holy daughter of the Bloodlands, the princess of the Brilliant Drake Empire, and Gilbert Lockwood." Oscar sat directly across from Gilbert. "I would apologize for being late, but it seems the other two haven't arrived yet."

"No, it works out in my favor. I've been wanting to speak with you for a long while now. Before the other two arrive, we have the time to ourselves." Gilbert straightened his posture as if trying to match Oscar's height. He spoke in a low tone, heavy and oppressive, "Are you willing to go so far for a war that's not your own?"

"I'm aware. You are the perfect Reis user, the bane of my people. Not only that, you're the heir of Isaac, the greatest mind in the history of Talos whose brilliant inventions may be an obstacle. But it is not the Volten blood flowing in your veins, and Isaac's ideals need not be realized. You can walk away, keep the secrets in your mind, and halt your body from charging into battle. This war isn't yours, and you know it." Gilbert crossed his legs in a pompous manner, arrogance laden in his voice. "You are just an unfortunate man who happened to be at the wrong places at the right time. Free yourself and live in peace."

Oscar felt a scorching heat bursting inside his chest. Ignyre's fury ignited from within. He could feel the Ancient of Fire's desire to kill and burn Gilbert into ashes. 'Not yet.' His words calmed the Ancient of Fire, the heat lessening but still clinging as if ready to explode. Oscar was not very hopeful of how this conversation might conclude, but he had to try. "And what of you? I heard of your birth, Caerulumen. You follow a path set for you by others. I am forced into roles I deny. We're pieces on a board. Some might say we're the King pieces, but we're pieces nonetheless, played by others above us. Don't you wish to be free?"

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"And what are you proposing?" Gilbert leaned in and jabbed his finger on the table, cracks spreading from the point.

"Peace. The Primal Council and the Argent Lords of Shattirma can keep on their long conflict in the state of balanced peace they kept on Talos for many millennia." Oscar said.

"Peace? Really?" Gilbert smirked, seemingly interested.

"If we have to fight, it'd end up in blood. Countless lives wasted in a war that could be avoided." Oscar couldn't rid himself of the scenes of the ancient war, Volten's long figure standing over an ocean of corpses. He ignored the signs and kept deceiving himself that he could live a peaceful life afterward, counting down the days until Fallen Heaven ended, but the truth was before him, Gilbert. The agent of the Caerulumen had come here for a purpose, and every instinct screamed at him; it would signal the start of another war. A war that might surpass the ancient war. Oscar sighed, "Why not leave the board? You and I can stop what is to come if we both backoff. What is not better than to live a good life with your wives in peace? Let's not turn the world into hell."

Gilbert went silent for a few seconds before a scoff escaped his throat. "You speak as if both sides would pay a heavy price. And that I will lose more than I gain. How ludicrous." He rushed his words in anger. "You can't fathom what is at stake for me. There is a place meant for me, a place I should have been in from the start. I've lived a false life, surrounded by liars and cheats. I will not be denied what should be mine. You're fighting a losing battle, and it will be my victory at the end of the year. Why should I back off if that is the case? I will live a good life with my wives in the place I belong, not in this wretched world. My wives and I will look down from above and watch you struggle against the inevitable."

"And what of Fred and Teresa? Were they liars and cheats?" Oscar asked.

"Ah…them. What of them?" Gilbert said, shrugging his shoulders. "They never would have been able to keep up. At some point, they'd have died, miserable and ashamed they couldn't stand by my side. What I did was free them from that eventual pain. Mercy is the word for it. And it turned out well. Fred certainly achieved more than he ever could have and died as a brave hero defending the capital to his last breath."

With those remarks, Oscar was livid but didn't show it, hiding the bulging fists underneath the table. To insult his departed sworn brother was the highest form of insult. Screw it. "If that is mercy, then I will show you what it means to be merciless. When it is done, you will be begging for death, and I parade your corpse across all of Talos. Then, I will bring you before Fred's grave and have you eat the dirt in which he is buried."

"Is that a threat, Lord Terr?" Arlena said, her voice sharp and loud. "My husband is beyond your means to oppose. Surrender now, and I may let you live. You follow the legacies of dead men while we–"

"Silence!" Oscar shouted, forcing Arlen to stagger back, fear and horror paling the thin face. She gazed at him with wide eyes, frozen. He stood up and turned around. "I have said what I came to say. I came for peace, and you bring insults and war. Do not regret the choices you have made today, bastard of the Caerulumen."

Gilbert's blade flew across and impaled the floor, streaks of lightning crackling along the edge. The bastard's voice called out, "Then come as you wish, false Volten. I'll await you in the dark tower."

Oscar sidestepped the large sword stuck in the ground and descended to the plains. He had finished his business with Gilbert but had one more purpose in coming her, and she came near. Her black hair flowed past her waist, a pair of cold blue eyes that carried no light or emotion fixated on him, and the large scythe on her back seemed to split apart the light itself. Lelith Lilisa, the former master of his wife and current leader of the Primal Council's forces in Fallen Heaven, had arrived.

Before she could speak, Oscar said, "For my wife, I'll kill you, too. Make no mistake. You're not leaving Fallen Heaven alive."

"Ah, yes. That man who saved the slave in the forest was one of yours. How refreshing." Her monotone voice was chilling to the bone. "That slave must have had quite a journey to accompany Isaac's heir. Interesting. At first, the sister seemed to be a good prospect, but with you, I wonder what sort of fears will manifest. The expressions of a husband and wife suffering together should be stimulating." Lelith leaned on her scythe. "Strange. You're different from before."

"Her name is Avril. And she'll never be yours again." Oscar cut off the connection and dispersed his Duality. Opening his eyes, he found himself sitting in his temporary home. He wandered outside, ignoring the fervent cries of worship from the onlookers, and ventured around the walls.

"Astrid," Oscar found her sitting alone on a boulder, her eyes closed in deep meditation.

"What is it?" Astrid blinked.

"I know I said I wanted no more. No more of the fighting, the wars, everything." Oscar stepped closer. "But that time is past. There will always be a battle to fight. I looked deep into the past. I see now that it is my future. If I can't avoid it, then I must fight so that we can rest in peace afterward. And revenge long overdue must be taken." If war was coming, then he needed to eliminate any elements, including the New Dawn.

"Are you saying…that we are back?" Astrid smiled for the first time, a maddened smile of glee and malice.

"Are you still willing to work together?" Oscar extended a hand.

Astrid took it and knelt, holding it reverently by her head. "I've waited for so long for you to come to your senses, my Lord. Astrid the Seventh is here to serve and obey." She had been the voice of opposition alongside Hector, Helen, and others to the fanatical zeal of the others, but now, she, too, had turned. Oscar nodded and lamented another good person willing to lower themselves as mere tools in his hands.

Oscar said grimly, "Then, follow me."

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