The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

The weight of her strike, amplified by the speed of her descent, sent Santen falling straight down, his knees trembling as he landed on his feet, breaking the splendid floor. He looked up and blocked the thick chain, now wide as a person with spikes that could skewer a man and split him in twine. Thinner chains protruded from the larger and coiled around his wrists, forcing his arms wide and exposing his chest. Santen struggled against his bindings since an innumerable amount of threads entrapped him further, gathered and tied together like fine fibers intertwining into ropes.

The stage had been set, and the execution started. Lelith's scythe loomed over like the blade of a guillotine, the air growing colder from her descent, and she brought it forth, driving the scythe closer to his head. The Ancestral Mark had done its work well. He could still break free of her spells, but their amplified hardness would cost him precious time, and he had no time as death closed in. Still, he had prepared for it and extended his leg forward in a direct stab rivaling the thrust of a spear. As his foot kept the scythe at bay, Santen tore free and scattered the broken chains and threads away behind in the wake of his lunge.

However, his chance at a counter went away. Lelith turned into a blur in his sight, showcasing her incredible speed once more. He shifted to a defensive stance, adjusting his arms as the sharp blows of the scythe streaked past his guard. In an instant, he blocked dozens of deadly strikes, having faint marks lining his forearms as proof they had even acted since they seemed almost invisible in his eyes. His eyes darted, trying to catch a glimpse of her movements. He waited and waited, biding in an unmoving position for the opportune moment. It was something she never gave him as the strikes went from dozens to hundreds.

'I'm glad it's me who has to face her.' Santen smiled dimly, finding a slight silver lining in this battle. The neverending slashes and heavy blows battering his defenses reminded him of traveling in the center of a storm on a boat against the constant rocking of the waves threatening to topple him over and the neverending rain drenching him from above. Often, a tremendous blow struck him like a bolt of lightning, even the sound of it being similar to the thunderous roar. Against anyone else, the lack of breathing would have exhausted them and disrupted their Ein, but he had no requirement. Her strikes would have shredded another into splotches of flesh and blood, but his steely arms matched up well.

She didn't need to use any spells to hold a person down. Her prowess was enough for it. Amongst the cacophony of metals clanging, he heard the whistling of her passing by as she maneuvered to and from. He counted in his mind, matching the rhythm of her movements to the subsequent attacks that followed. One, two, three. One movement followed by twelve slashes. It was good the attacks were continuous without missing a single second; it was quite easy for him to adjust to the timing since no breaks or erratic twists disrupted it.

He stared forward, ignoring the distracting flashes of light from her scythe glinting sharply. The right time would arrive soon. He punched forward at the set timing and brushed past her head. She slowed down as her eyes wandered to the fist near her cheek, his opportune moment finally here. Extending his hand, Santen chopped backward and bashed it into her face, forcing her head reeling to the side as he sent her flying, ramming her into the leg of a statue. Cracks spread as Lelith was embedded in the fine stone, rubble clattering down beneath her.

As Santen leaped in, he landed his initial punch straight into her gut, shaking the statue. Now, his turn had arrived. Not giving her a chance, he let loose a barrage of punches, burying her deeper inside the statue's leg. Her calm, indifferent eyes unnerved him, showing no pain or worry despite enduring the powerful blows that shattered many defenses in the past. A chain latched on his ankle and pulled him down, slamming him onto the statue's toes. The stones creaked when Lelith freed herself. She brushed the dust and pebbles off his clothes and landed softly by him.

'Damnit. Not even a hint of damage.' Santen rubbed his knuckles and dodged a fast slash, retreating for some distance. She closed in, speeding past him, and flung him back to his original position with a forceful swing as if declaring he was forbidden to move a single step. No one in the world should have such a sturdy body except for possibly him and his Lord. This Lelith's very existence was unnatural. What secret did she hide? He believed victory existed in the secrets of her body and observed her, searching for an answer. However, his time was running out. Lelith stepped forward and vanished, reaching speeds he was unprepared for. His defenses that had adjusted for her previous speed failed to catch up as her scythe slipped past and struck directly on the exposed wound on his shoulder.

His arm was severed and dropped to the floor, leaking a mix of red and transparent liquid. More of it leaked from his exposed shoulder until the internal valves closed and prevented more from leaking. Santen felt no pain and stepped forward, striking her with a kick, but unlike before, she endured his blow as curved blades protruded from her feet and dug into the floor, holding her in place.

"Ah. I imagined cutting you apart earlier. It took far longer than I had believed, and to use this against you…." Lelith didn't sound irritated despite her complaint. Her body was clad in a metal vest with a long skirt that rattled from the layers of scythes that formed it down to her ankles, akin to a wedding dress. Two sharp wings, shaped from dozens of scythes attached to one another, emerged from her back and spread out, the sharp ends glinting a deadly gleam. She soared with her wings swiping forward.

Santen couldn't react to her movements nor block against the speed of her wings. One wing clawed across his chest, and the other crossed the other angle. They diced open the hull of his chest and exposed his insides. Lelith paused and lowered her scythe. It seemed his true nature stumped her. She looked at him from up and down before saying, "How?"

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His brain rested in a tight tube filled with a gooey, transparent liquid, the tendrils of the nerves connecting to small pipes that led to a smaller chamber underneath. His heart thumped in that smaller chamber, his core embedded in it. Several long pipes and gears crackled with Ein, constantly pumping and rotating, granting him control over his false body. Santen grimaced and covered his heart and brain, the only two organs left behind after the rest had been discarded when the New Dawn placed him inside this prison. How indeed….

…….

"Please kill me…." Santen wished for death, unable to see or hear while his brain floated in the containment tube. After finishing every test, the New Dawn detached what remained of him from whatever new body they wished to test out and returned him to a cold chamber. His senses didn't exist without an ear to hear or eyes to see, not even a skin to feel. He could only think, and death was his only thought.

A jolt shook his nerves, something he felt every time they put him in a body. Santen gasped as he regained the sensation of the cold air pricking his false skin. He coughed and groaned, "Kill me. Just kill me."

"Is that what you want? If that is what you wish, then I have no use for you." A voice colder than the chill of the room spoke out.

Santen didn't recognize the voice and was unable to find a match among all of the researchers and guards of the facility. He looked up and saw a tall man wearing the flat helmet of a knight, a deer pelt wrapped around his shoulder, and fine armor, leaving no skin exposed. The stranger studied him, and Santen asked, "Who are you? Where are the–" His eyes widened at the sight of his tormentors sprawled over the floor behind the man, all dead and lying in pools of their blood.

"Who are you?" The stranger asked.

"I am…Number 209." Santen answered.

"You don't have a name?" The stranger pulled out a pile of documents and flipped through the pages, stopping on a certain page. "Number 209. Formerly known as Santen. Taken when you were a boy at the age of eight and inducted into the Living Golem program. All of the others have lost their minds, but you seem quite able."

"Santen…is that my name? My name…Santen." Santen repeated the name in his mind, smiling faintly with his false lips. "I am Santen." He turned to the stranger. "And you are?"

"You can call me Draven. You have the choice to follow me and seek revenge or go and live a new life. I won't force you. Unlike the New Dawn, I won't force you to stay either. If you wish to stop and leave once you find a different purpose, then you can leave. I have no use for those who don't have the will. However, for as long as you work for me, I will use you for all you are worth." The man, naming himself Draven, crouched and stared at him, the cold eyes indescribable behind the visor. "So…what is your choice?"

"What if I want death?" Santen asked.

"Then, I'll grant it to you in another form. If you decide to follow me for the rest of your life, then you will surely die in service to me. If you want to die, then follow me." Draven stood up and pointed his white sword at him. "It's a waste to have you die here now, not when I have a use for you."

"A use for me…." Santen raised a brow at the strange clicking that came out instead of laughter. Evidently, this body had a few defects. "Alright. I hope I can die well."

…….

Lelith's scythe stabbed through his containment tube, the preservation fluid spilling out. Her hand reached out and punched into the chamber below, gripping his heart. Santen groaned and gasped as her fingers clenched harder, squeezing his heart like a toy. It was the first true sensation he had felt in many decades since they placed him in the tube. He gripped her wrist, unable to exert strength to oppose her dissection of his insides, her hand freely moving to grab his core. He was at her mercy.

'My Lord….' Santen gritted his teeth, his vision already waning from the outside air afflicting his brain. In the darkness, he recalled the Lord, both of them in one body. One promised him death, but the other made him promise to live on. 'Forgive me. I don't think I can fulfill my promise to you, my Lord….' He widened his eyes and forced away the darkness that shrouded his vision. 'But! I must at least die well! To ensure I keep one of my oaths!'

His core cracked and imploded, surging Ein into his one remaining arm. Before Lelith could react, he chopped onto her neck, shouting at the top of his lungs, slamming her against the wall while his hand stayed on her neck. She grasped his heart and squashed it in her palm, pulling the fleshy sack out. Santen grinned and saw her indifferent eyes wander from her bloody palm to her neck, gazing at his final strike. Her neck trembled, clearly overwhelmed. Mockingly, he said, "So, you do feel fear, after all. That's natural. Good. You aren't a monster; you're just another person consumed by fear. Good. I don't have to worry about the others. I know for certain that you will lose to them."

"You speak out of madness." Lelith stabbed her wing forward and pierced his brain, shredding it between the layers of scythes.

"You…are…afraid…." Santen exerted the last of his strength as his life began to fade. The final surge, his soul's final cry, met its mark and cut through her hardened skin. Green blood dripped from the wound, and at last, he began to understand her true nature. It seemed the New Dawn wasn't the only faction dealing in human experimentation. With his last words, Santen cursed Lelith, "A failure like me. Your myth of invincibility broken. Your death will come. My death is not in vain."

Her scythe and wings hacked at him, tearing his body limb by limb. Santen's mind faded in and out, drifting between dream and reality. A scene of him sitting by the table, flanked by Eve and Kragg and joined by Auren, Restel, Astrid, Marcus, his Lord, Lady, Master Erden, and the young miss and master, was the only memory he saw. As the last of his life burned out from the severed parts of his husk, leaking out with the flowing liquid, Santen believed this death was worth it.

He died well as he had hoped.

…….

"Curse him," Lelith held her wound. The green blood continued to flow, and she had to wrap her threads around it to prevent more from spilling out. She stared at the pile of scrap metal that was once her opponent and stomped on it, crushing it under her foot. Turning to the stairs that led upward, where the other three retreated, she headed the other way and went on her original route, going down the spiraling stairs. Her destination was below.

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