The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Was he drifting? No, the feeling of descending deeper and deeper was akin to drowning, reaching further below in the unfathomable darkness enveloping him. He remembered this place, the needling chill that pierced every pore in his skin, and the thick tangle of unseen elements that halted his limbs from moving. No one existed in this void except for him. He had been here before, decades ago, when he had yet to awaken while Demon fought in his place. He tried to keep his eyes open and struggle, but like quicksand, the more he struggled, the more the darkness entangled and dragged him, as if reveling in his return and seeking revenge for his prior escape.

His eyelids slowly relented, quivering shut. Oscar snapped them open and winced, wanting to avert his gaze, but whatever spell Lelith had placed on him forced him to stare straight ahead. Two old tombstones, with moss dangling from the top to the sides, laid in the center, stood on an uneven patch of grass. One carried his father's name, and the other, his mother's. He staggered ahead, the soft grass sinking in under his feet, and reached out for the tombstones, crying endless tears. The moment he touched them, the tombstones crumbled and turned to sand. It trickled and spilled out of his grasp, not letting him hold even a grain, an iota of his parents' grave.

The world shifted and distorted. Oscar stared down at the farm, his home set ablaze in a great fire. The fields of golden grains he had once pranced around in his youth were now a smoldering wasteland, the healthy dirt charred black. Oscar flew, not of his will, struggling with all his might to avoid the memory he buried in the flames. Down he went and opened the door. Every attempt to take control failed. He was no more than a spectator, forced to relive and witness the moments of his failures. Uncle Carlson waited for him past the door, embers spewing from the burning roof above. The frail old man fell to the floor, dying.

'Why am I always so late?' He found strength in his legs and sprinted, stretching his hand out to grab Uncle Carlson. But his good uncle melted in a pool of blood that surged and flooded the entire world of memory. Gasping for air, Oscar flailed his arms, struggling to hold on as the currents pushed him away. They knocked him left, then to the right. Dazed, he shut his eyes once more and stopped struggling as the red tides swallowed him.

Screaming, he woke up knee-deep in a stream of blood. From the steps above, the blood poured over. The thick scent of rot and iron stung his pupils. The blood swished and rippled as his legs strode, ignoring his pleas and will, his mouth clamped shut and eyes forced wide. With heavy steps, he quaked the scarlet river and visited the bodies of many bearing a golden shield in a black cloth. Susan, Uren, Esther, Alec, and more stared at him, their pale, dead gazes following his every step. Reaching a set of stairs, he halted and gnashed his teeth, wishing to break free, but his mind was imprisoned.

One by one, he went up the bloody street. Oscar had refused to see it during his year with Volten as they delved into his memories, but he could not refuse anymore, not under her power. His cries pierced the air and churned the blood underneath, his tears mixing and becoming lost in the scarlet pools of his precious friends' demise. Fred held Emily's half-torn body, everything below her waist gone, while his guts spilled out and sprawled with a gaping hole in his stomach. Oscar knelt, uncaring of the blood rising to his waist.

"It was me." The whimsical voice of an old man cut across.

Oscar choked and strained his mouth open for air. A strong grip tightened on his neck as a cold hand tore into his chest. Unable to scream, Oscar flopped like a fish in Elder Saul's trap and blacked out; the pain, the agony, too much for him to bear. Panting, he woke up and saw two tombstones, cursing at the top of his lungs. The meaning of Lelith's spell was clear: to sink him deeper into the throes of fear, repeating his mistakes, traumas, and deepest regrets. He repeated the same memories, the same failures, over and over again.

Cycle after cycle, he tried it all: to run in and save them, to stop the fires, and to dig out his parents. Again and again, he failed. The tombstones became sand, he saw Uncle Carlson die on the burning farm, he strode down the streets of his greatest failure, and he was betrayed by someone he believed to be a friend and mentor. His heart pained and ached as the ripples of its cries struck his nerves. How long had he been in here? Hundreds? Thousands? He didn't bother to struggle anymore and slumped to the floor, dragged by the spell's intent to witness everything over and over. Slowly, pieces of him chipped off his body, making him more transparent, but he didn't care. The pain lessened the more that broke off.

"Oscar! If you're in there, listen to me. If not, Erden, listen for him." Sometimes, he'd hear a firm yet warm voice call out. Who was it? After hundreds of cycles, he finally heard the second part. "You are a magnificent disciple. I am glad to have been your master."

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'Who was that?' Oscar had forgotten. A figure emerged as he began to black out from Elder Saul's trickery. The man's shoulders were broad, his back firm and tall, exuding a sense of security and peace. The man turned, facing him with a stare hidden behind the shadow of the visor, his helmet dark and lined with three horns. A flicker of memory rushed past his thoughts, and he remembered. 'Master….'

"You are a magnificent disciple. I am glad to have been your master." One cycle later, the voice said again.

'No. I'm the worst disciple. You died because of me.' Oscar retorted.

"You are a magnificent disciple. I am glad to have been your master."

'Why? Why are you glad? I brought you nothing but…' All kinds of memories poured in. As he underwent the cycle, he also remembered the lavish feasts in the Abyss Prison, the hardened duels in the sand pit, the times they forged together in the private foundry, and the intense exercises he endured as his master watched, amused. His master's cold and direct insults matched Oscar's cheerful laughter as they punched, meeting knuckles in the center.

"You are a magnificent disciple. I am glad to have been your master."

'You were an amazing master.' Oscar twitched and bared his teeth. 'You shouldn't have died.' The tombstones shuddered, and the air groaned in distress. Heat welled in his chest and expelled as hot growls, his guttural cries rumbling the earth. 'What else did I forget?' He had forgotten so much of his memories except the horrible ones before him and those of his master. After thousands of cycles, countless days, perhaps years in this accursed place, he finally began to think, ponder on what he had forgotten.

'That's right. I forgot about them–' Renn and Gloria flashed across his mind, the memories of holding them as young children and meeting them when they had grown up into splendid Exalts and adults. '-and the others–' Marcus, Eve, Santen, Kragg, Restel, Auren, and Astrid surfaced, sitting around a table and grabbing food off the plates with arguments spraying back and forth. '-and her.' Oscar clenched his hands and roared, his anger erupting and manifesting into a violent burst that spread cracks over the world of memory. "What am I doing here?! I AM DOING NOTHING WHILE EVERYONE DIES!"

'Overcome, young warrior. Overcome with what fuels you, what drives you. You are not a helpless tool that will be sent off to keep fighting as your world becomes empty like mine. You can fight to hold onto what you hold dear, to fight on your terms, to defend what you must.' Volten's words echoed.

His heart thumped and pounded like the drums of war, spreading an immense heat over his veins. Rage was his answer. Being helpless at the side angered him. Being placed at the forefront of a war that was not his enraged him. The unfairness of all that befell him unleashed his anger. Seething, Oscar roared, kicking up a storm of his fury. The world was carved and cut apart. He muttered, "I am afraid. I am afraid. But more than that, I am angry. Now, BEGONE! I HAVE TO KILL SOMEONE!"

As the world started to dissipate, Oscar held the two tombstones of his parents and hugged them. "I'm sorry. I have been an awful son, but I can't be a bad husband. You'd all smack me for doing nothing while she hurts my wife." He passed by the path to Uncle Carlson's house, everything crumbling away at the edges. Holding Uncle Carlson, Oscar lowered his head. "I remember your words now. You thanked me at the end. You thanked me. I don't know if Isabella will ever visit your grave, but I'll keep in mind your last wish to see her again."

The house broke apart. The wood splintered and sprawled all over, floating as embers danced among them. The blood reached his knees but boiled away. He reached Fred and Emily and knelt by their side, hugging them. "I've been running away for so long. Even my declaration to take revenge on the ones who wronged you was mere fluff. I said it because I felt I had no other choice, guided by everyone else to be something I was not. Knowing the two of you, you'd all probably talk me out of it. But you're dead. Dead when you didn't have to die. Perhaps it's for my satisfaction, but I choose revenge. I'm a fighter, always have been. I'll smash Gilbert's head and kill off every last New Dawn. Even if I must be the ruler or the true successor to Volten."

Their bodies cracked apart into flakes. Oscar witnessed one final scene, the one that hurt him the most. His master faced Elder Saul, a Monocrown King against a Tricrown King. It was an uneven match, yet his master stepped in between him and Saul. In a single punch, Oscar blasted away Elder Saul and turned to face his master. He bowed deeply. "Thank you for saving me. Thank you for taking me in when I was young. Thank you for teaching me. Now, I must go and avenge your death, Master. Watch over me."

The ocean of void surrounded him, attempting to sink him deeper. Oscar scoffed and stomped once, his rage burning the void until all became clear, a blank nothingness now painting the endless depths and horizon. "Begone. I still have someone to protect and an enemy to kill."

…….

Light seeped from his dull eyes, and he regained clear vision. Oscar kicked up against Lelith, who stiffened with a blank face, the first real emotion of shock showing. The scythe pulled out of his chest, forcing heavy groans from his throat as blood gushed from the open wound.

"How long were you in there?" Lelith traced her scythe. "I just stabbed you, and you recovered. How?" She licked her lips. "No matter. The more I carve into your flesh, the more of that wondrous fear I'll taste."

"I'm done," Oscar cauterized his wounds. He formed a link to his Anima currently melding in Erden. "I'm done playing it safe. You won't ever put me in that place because it's gone. Burned away and ground into nothingness. There is only rage. Rage that is beyond the fear." His Anima cried in unwillingness, but Oscar clenched the link and pulled it inside him. "Integration."

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