The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Oscar peered below, saw no hint of reaching the bottom yet, and grumbled to himself at the loss of flight inside the pit. A lingering presence, denser than the depths of the ocean, constricted him, binding his feet to the stairs, one step at a time. The freedom he had enjoyed for several hours since arriving inside the dark tower was stripped away again. With flight, he could reach the bottom in a few seconds with a single leap and dive, but his shoes pounded on the steps like a hammer on an anvil, slow and impactful.

"Get on," Erden jumped several steps ahead, transforming into his beast form, the wings clamped shut and stuck to his sides, unable to unfurl. Snorting, Erden lowered his back and waited. Oscar couldn't have asked for a better friend. He smiled and clasped a branch of Erden's antler wings, climbing onto his friend's back and patting the white fur. Erden was injured and still recovering but still expressed his desire to carry him as the partners they had been since the start. Together, they descended, Erden rushing further and deeper down the pit faster than the ancient torches lining the stairs could flare up and brighten their path.

After thirty minutes, Oscar reeled and hissed in pain as Erden leaped and landed firmly on solid ground, the landing shaking his torn body, barely held together by sheer grit and his tenacious muscles. An empty place awaited him, the ground desolate and devoid of even pavement or tiles for decor. Only a lone gate, taller than a mountain, suddenly appeared out of the rock of the walls, dust spewing from its edges, lending it a dream-like appearance as if it could vanish just as easily in the clouds of dust. It was the gate he had arrived at years ago, the very same one that Metures had called him to enter.

From the center of the gate, a faint light spread to the edges of the crack and outlined the edges of the gate, shining brighter until a loud, muffled click resounded. The gate shuddered and creaked as it parted, a gust pouring out of the sealed room, hitting Oscar with the scent of blood, or rather, iron, and a slight hint of decay, a smidge of rot. The lingering presence that weighed on him swelled and pushed on his shoulders, nearly popping them out of their sockets. Oscar endured the pain, gritting his teeth with a sharp gaze at the figure beyond the gate.

Metures, the Ancient of Metal, the legendary primordial being, hadn't changed his position for the hundred years since their last meeting. In the form of a giant suit of armor, he sat on the throne that could only have been carved from a mountain itself, fit for an Ancient's presence. Perhaps the Ancient of Metal hadn't left that seat in countless years after the end of the ancient war. Oscar's eyes wandered to the missing chunks of Meture's armor. The gaps in Meture's body were bigger, and the rust had spread to afflict nearly all of his chest and some more.

'Old bucket…you're…dying.' Ignyres left Oscar's inner world and expanded his orb form, growing limbs and body. The Ancient of Fire assumed his original appearance, though significantly smaller, and strode forward past the gate, with Oscar and Erden following close by. Ignyres laughed without his usual vigor, the flames of his form waning and the fuming volcanoes on his shoulders falling dormant. 'Your flames are almost out, like the faintest ember floating in the cold wind, a moment before its light is snuffed out.'

Two glowing red orbs blinked, faint at first, then gaining more light. They shone in the visor of Meture's head and stared at Oscar, Ignyres, and Erden. Metures groaned and spoke in a clear, monotone voice without a beat missing. "I am here. Witness me—witness Talos. I am here. Ignyres. Your presence here is welcome and a fortunate turn of events. And you–" Metures focused his red eyes on Oscar. "-I'm sorry. I know the pain that you have endured. Forgive me."

Oscar widened his eyes, stunned as the words and insults he wished to shower Metures in sank back down his throat. Gulping, he never would have believed that in a million years, an Ancient would apologize and quite sincerely, too. Ignyres said it multiple times, but he was a special case of an Ancient parting from the norm and attaining more human attributes. Still, his anger flared, and he dragged his feet closer, shouting, "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Of what?" Metures averted his gaze lower as if ashamed and unwilling to look him in the eyes. His voice rumbled again like gears grinding, losing the clearness akin to coughing, "Of everything? The rage inside you, the violence you seek against me…is justified. You would have known of your parents' death later; to tell you at the time would have rushed your thoughts and mind out of balance. Without it, would you have been in the right state to stay at Convecia and marry your wife? No. Disaster awaited you down that path. You needed a love that could replace the ones you have lost, and thus, you found a way to keep fighting on and not lose to despair during the war. It still nearly broke you, however. And your wife was suffering, too. I linked your minds and placed your dreams together to reaffirm the bond you share."

"That was you?" Oscar coughed, splurting blood from his mouth. The pain in his chest forced his knees down, and he knelt, paling in agony. He had always wondered how he and Avril met and enjoyed each others' company in a dream. It turned out to be another move by Metures, some ploy at controlling him. Glaring at the Ancient of Metal, he yelled, "Then, what about Saul?! You considered him and Lelith to be candidates, yet they're the cruelest people I've ever known. What does that say about you? For you to consider them?"

His voice cracked in deep sadness, recalling all he had lost because of Saul. He pointed at Metures and screamed, "Tell me! Why?! Did it have to happen?!"

Metures blinked, the red glow shutting off and then brightening back up. "If I had told you, you might not have believed me. But that matters not. Carrying the knowledge itself was a danger. Saul is a very perceptive man, one I have watched for several centuries. The slightest bit of doubt or apprehension would have alerted him, and I feared the outcome. Your home, the Brilliant Drake Empire, would have fallen, its people massacred, enslaved, and scattered before the Caerulumen child could return. And you'd be dead or worse. Everything I did, I did to raise your chances of surviving by slight margins. Tell me. What could you have done differently against Saul if you knew, with all you now know of him?"

Oscar jolted and looked down, unable to find a retort. All of his arguments had lost to the proposed what-if. He came here, seeking to vent his rage, but lost to simple reasoning. If he did know, what could he have done? Saul was the most powerful and cunning King Exalt in the continent, in control of all the New Dawn. But it wasn't right. Oscar knew Meture's logic was rational and indisputable. The outcome would have been worse in all scenarios.

"Your home still stands. The Brilliant Drake Empire still stands. Some of your companions still draw the breath of Talos. But you are right to be angry. I allowed it all, uncaring of the losses you may have suffered as long as you lived and arrived here before me." Metures groaned a gutwrenching cry of metal shrieking. He leaned forward and bowed his head, shards chipping off and falling from his titanic form. "On behalf of the Ancients and Talos, I am sorry."

'Is it so dire that even you, the foremost of us all and the most prideful, have fallen to the point of bowing to a human?' Ignyres rubbed the base of his flame as if stroking a chin. 'Seems we've both changed a lot.'

"Everything I do is for Talos. Our home. Our world." Metures leaned back and rested on his throne, cracks spreading down his forearms. "Oscar. You do not have to forgive me, but understand what I did, what I do, is because I had no other choice. Carve my body apart, stomp my head under your feet, disgrace me, and ridicule me. It is fair and not even close to being mildly comforting to your rage."

"Enough. I don't want to hear more. Why am I here? Candidates. Lelith, your shard. Sau, a deranged monster. And me." Oscar grew tired of hearing the excuses and apologies of Metures, who certainly just admitted to doing it all again for his goal. Those sentiments meant nothing with the result. Rather, he shifted the topic and wanted the truth of why, not what-if. "Why am I here? For what?"

Metures grunted, "History forgot the war. A few know the truth of what happened long ago. But all points to it having ended with our victory. That is the furthest from the truth. In reality, the war of the beginning, the war against Esteres's wayward children, did not end then. It did not end later. It is still ongoing. A war of attrition and long planning ever in motion since half of Talos shattered. But it has been going on for countless millennia since. While we lack the means to fight for Talos, another has risen to take our place."

"Another Volten?" Oscar narrowed his gaze and recalled the memories of Volten's regrets. He said coldly, "I will never be him, not a tool."

'I concur. If that is what you have to say, Buckethead, then we'll be off.' Ignyres spat a mouthful of ember in clear disrespect.

"No. I, too, know the mistakes of the past. I sat on this throne and pondered, watching and learning. I realized we all misjudged the strength of heart, a power that we wrongly robbed Volten of. Perhaps it is, as you said before, in Volten's tomb. If our decisions had been more informed and better suited to him, we could have prevailed." Metures stared intently and pointed at Oscar. "Many years have led to this moment. By chance, you arrived at precisely the time needed, fighting through fate and trials beyond reckoning, learning the old ways, and inheriting the new. I could not risk losing you. One who carries Volten's legacy, and one who strides with Issac's knowledge."

"What does Issac have to do with you?" Oscar asked.

"I was blind in those days and failed to help him in life, not embracing the gifts he bore, gifts that might have helped Talos. But in death, he helped you. They failed not because of their own mistakes but because of us. For one, we placed too much of our will, and for the other, we neglected and abandoned to death. " Metures wheezed, sounding like metal scraping. "I have understood at last. The path I have seen. You will succeed where those two failed."

'And how in the blazing inferno do you suggest we do that?' Ignyres seemed skeptical.

"You, Oscar Terr," Mature's voice raised and thundered in a great shout, "You will become me."

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