The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

A few minutes remained until the final night began. Based on what he understood, the last week would be the worst, especially for anyone outside the semi-intact fortresses that contained remnants of its defensive functions. Heck, their defenses for the past year had been rough if not for Auren's formations keeping a powerful barrier in place, but even that might not help in these last seven days, especially because of their presence. Oscar watched the beasts prowl in a hunting stance, their heads hunching with sharp gazes toward the entrance, pacing side to side as if eagerly waiting for the night. The accursed were drawn to life, and the addition of these beasts, while bolstering their forces, also made their outpost far more enticing to the accursed.

'The worst will come after.' Oscar readjusted his helmet, tightening it. What he feared most was not the accursed or the final night but the key battle that would be waged inside the dark tower. A part of him had a feeling. Perhaps it might be a mercy, an act of grace, for some to die here so as to avoid a worse fate fighting his war. Sighing, he watched the burning strip of cloth slowly fizzle out into a wisp of black smoke, the last bits of thread consumed by the slow flame and turned into embers. The time was up.

Unlike the previous nights, the ten orbs blackened, no longer lending the slightest bit of respite in the false moonlight they showered the eleventh land in for the whole year. And the stars refused to reveal themselves, their glimmering comfort lost behind the blanket of darkness that permeated even the plains below. The very warmth of his blood seemed to chill instantly, and it seemed his forces were affected by the sudden shift. Quickly, the braziers on the walls and the ground below blazed brightly. However, short breaths and hushed whispers still ran amok, the topic focusing on the unsettling silence.

Usually, the nights started with the screams, the screeching and wailing of the accursed that emerged from who-knows-where. But tonight, the plains were eerily silent. Oscar knew it couldn't go on like this, or else fear would take root inside them. Standing up and climbing up the inner wall, he raised Volten's sword high and poured in his Eirin. Light poured from the blade that sang a clear ring, providing comfort from the darkness and the cursed silence. Everyone's eyes turned to him, and they gave a resounding shout of conviction. At that moment, as if waiting for their cheers, the accursed's deathly wails countered, inhuman cries of anguish and fear trembling the earth beneath.

"Lights!" Next to Oscar, Serit shouted, gesturing to the ones standing on the walls. Avila and several Light-element Exalts fired several illuminating spells that split and scattered like fireworks, each mote bright enough to fill an entire room. Oscar narrowed his eyes and gripped his shield as Serit leaned forward in disbelief. He mumbled, "What the hell…."

Indeed, it was the picture of hell itself. Oscar was relieved that the people below didn't have the vantage point for it. A swarm of accursed, denser than ever before, as many as the blades of grass in the plains, snarled at the falling bits of light, flailing their pale arms to extinguish them. But that was not the worst part. He tried to count them but couldn't bear to keep counting. Many hulking giants, the abominations of combined accursed, dragged their heavy bodies toward the outpost. Unlike before, when dozens of them spread over the twelve hours of darkness, hundreds now stood in the first minute of the final night.

"First round!" Avila led their ranged efforts, screaming at the top of her lungs. On the top of each watchtower, a cannon was pushed into place, the barrel rotating into position and aiming high. Hector and Auren had finished the long work on the key weapons and spared a few days to complete these cannons. Avila nocked her bow back, melding her bow anima into it. A spear of light attached to the string in her fingertips. "Fire!"

The cannons thundered in a deafening boom, smoke rising from the muzzle of their barrels. Flashes of light blinked one after the other, followed by devastating explosions that engulfed the front ranks of the accursed in flames. Avila let go of her radiant bowstring, releasing the spear of light. More ranged spells from the Exalts and beasts manning the walls joined in, aiming for the accursed crawling up the craters left behind by the previous explosions. In order to avoid canceling out each other's spells, each section of the wall had a designated element for ranged attackers. Strangely, a colorful circle of elements, from fire to darkness, expanded outside as the ranged spells met their marks.

"Next round!" Avila crouched and motioned with a wide wave of her arm at the cannons stationed on the grounds, pointing higher upward to aim over the outer walls. Oscar grimaced at the limited ammunition resting in piles next to each cannon. Perhaps they could last for around thirty tries. The last of his grade-four elemental ores from Volten's treasury had been melted down for the sake of these cannons. Exalts carried a precious round and locked it into place at the end of the cannon, staring at Avila, who slowly raised her hand, seemingly waiting for the right moment.

"Fire!" She shouted. The backline of cannons turned red-hot from the discharge, and more explosions burst, far closer than the previous round. Avila led the ranged attackers in another wave of spells on the new marks, noted by the fumes of the smoldering craters. Serit shook with a scowl, muttering a curse as the accursed rushed out of the craters. Their numbers were barely affected, but it was enough; any amount of damage and delay was enough.

"I'll head out. Erden!" Oscar leaped down and mounted on Erden in mid-air. Fallen Heaven prevented them from flying but allowed the winged beasts a slight comfort, not the best, but a comfort nonetheless, according to Ruvin and Erden. Flying past the entrance and several feet in the air, Oscar stabbed Volten's sword high and tall as if piercing the sky above. His banner flapped and unfurled as the sword pulsed with light that spread like a misty gale. His loyal followers cheered and chanted when he passed by, beating their chests and drumming the earth with their feet and armaments.

Many accursed shouted and attacked the others right by them, turning the front into chaos, the accursed killing accursed. The sword drained too much of his Eirin, and Erden understood his predicament and retreated inside. Panting and gasping, Oscar stared at Volten's sword, receiving a simple, indifferent hum in response. Staying on Erden's back, Oscar trotted back, the sword sticking out of his back and waving the banner high and proud. Along the way, he spotted Hector pushing one of the special war machines into position.

"Hector!" Oscar circled the old fabricator, who waved him with a strained, red look. The war machine, shaped like a small house with a triangular roof of steel and walls with only one window from where a cannon stuck out, squeaked as Hector wheeled it closer, pointing forward toward the entrance.

"Bah, if it isn't the mighty Lord of men and beasts. You won't catch me calling ya any of that, boy." Hector spat on the ground and wiped his brow, leaning on his hammer like a crutch. "Just finished in time. How are things outsi–" As he was about to ask, Hector widened his beady eyes at the entrance and pointed. Oscar followed the gesture and grimaced, beads of sweat dripping down his brow. The swarm of accursed, innumerable, blocked any other view outside. Hector cursed, "Gotta be kidding me. These pieces of–"

The ground collapsed again, and a slew of accursed dropped into the deep chasm and were set aflame in a blazing inferno. The remaining stretch of ground provided the bridge from the outside to the entrance, funneling the accursed who held a modicum of sense to avoid death by falling. They gravitated like moths attracted to a flame toward the easy way in, as planned. Oscar turned to Hector as the accursed flailed and hurried on the bridge and shouted, "Now!"

"Firing!" Hector pushed a lever on the side of the war machine. Patterns and lines started to glow from the corners, spreading and ending on the cannon. Wisps of Ein swirled around the tip of the cannon, leaving a trail deep down the shaft as a high-pitched whine intensified in volume. At its breaking point, when the sound went silent, the cannon roared as a dense beam of Ein swept across and pierced through the wriggling mass of accursed on the bridge and beyond. Hector's beady eyes shone in clear delight. "The Gravitaram is incredible! I really wish I could have met the creator."

Oscar sensed the other three Gravitarams firing at the other three entrances. The dial on the Ein gauge on the back slowly went down, indicating the loss of Ein. Any accursed coming close to the concentrated beam of Ein was vaporized back into the dust from which they came, only a faint wail echoing after their demise. After a few minutes, the Gravitarams spluttered and fizzled out, the beam waning into a thin thread before vanishing into thin air. They required a few hours before the Ein charged back up and the cores inside had reset. Now, it came down to them.

"Defense! Charge!" Oscar shouted. Humans and beasts marched forward and let out a warcry as they clashed against the accursed. They couldn't go in too deep, or else the short retreats for the Gravitarams to fire would be too troublesome. Several accursed climbed the walls, branching out like fingers from an outstretched hand that sought to clench down on the barrier. He looked at the terrifying mass of accursed clinging to the barrier and climbing higher and shouted to the flying beasts in the back, "Ruvin! Go!"

Ruvin cawed and flew out with the other winged beasts, slicing their wings on the climbing accursed to knock them off, spreading feathers that cut and severed the pale limbs. But they were too many, like ants swarming a bountiful harvest. Oscar motioned for the ranged Exalts on the inner walls to strike, hundreds of spells striking the accursed, keeping the barrier secure. There was no room to breathe. Dozens of abominations trampled ahead, thrashing a few of the defenders back. Santen and the others on Oscar's side of the walls rushed out, halting the abominations from delving deeper into their ranks as a few slipped in and carried out the wounded.

"My Lord!" Fenu rushed over from another entrance, bleeding from several injuries. In a rushed tone, he gasped, "There are too many abominations, and more are pouring in. Luckily, no one died yet, but we're at a standstill."

That didn't sound good. A standstill would have been perfect if not for the endless accursed rushing from behind while their numbers were limited. He needed time for the right intervals for the cannons to fire, the time for the Gravitarams to charge up, and time for his Eirin to recover. Gritting his teeth, Oscar clasped Hector's shoulder and asked, "Are they ready?"

"I thought we wanted to wait," Hector grumbled, but his expression darkened at the accursed outside.

Oscar shook his head. "No time. Release the Champions."

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