The Exalt [Cultivation Fantasy]

Oscar stared widely at Metures. He couldn't believe what he had just heard and stayed still in place, speechless at the sudden proclamation. He had no words, and all attempts to speak failed to part from his mouth. Metures's red glowing eyes looked back at him, slowly whirling in place, and the Ancient of Metal turned quiet, granting him time to digest the absurdity of what was said. Through their shared connection, Oscar also felt Erden's shock and confusion echoing in his own thoughts, amplifying the unease and numbness weighing on his head.

'Become him?' That single question repeated and cascaded into chaos, countless murmurs of the question, possibilities, what-ifs, and more storming in his mind. Oscar opened his mouth but closed it, choking on his nonexistent words. As a last resort, he went to Demon, who resided in his inner world, but his alter ego had closed his eyes and ignored the affairs outside. The silence carried on between him and Metures, neither speaking as if waiting for the other to talk first.

'Ludicrous! Mad!' Ignyres cut in between and broke the stalemate. The three orbs in Ignyres's flaming head stopped rotating and halted, noting his full attention to Metures. He strode ahead, leaving a burning trail of smoldering steps, and neared the Ancient of Metal, shouting, 'How can a human become an Ancient?! That is impossible! Our flames are not of the same hearth. You'll kill him.'

"He is in no state to fight what is to come. Soon, the Caerulumen's plan will unfold, and he won't be ready. Look…his wounds are too deep. His strength wanes and will falter against their might. Death is certain there. If death is the only outcome, then we must choose the one that may play out how we wish." Metures raised his voice and coughed out clouds of rust, clutching his chest, a part of it caving in. "My time is limited. My life is spent. Someone must carry on our will."

"Start from the beginning," Oscar regained his voice and pressed for the answers. He came here for them and would not agree or consent without it. But Metures was right on one thing. Oscar clutched his chest, similar to Metures, and coughed out more blood, feeling the deep wound Lelith had inflicted starting to open and shivering. Of all of them, he had taken the worst of Lelith's attack, the cold touch of her blade piercing through his chest and out his back still fresh on his flesh. Perhaps death was his fate, but he wanted the truth and to choose as a free man, not a puppet or toy.

"When Volten, empowered by us, clashed in the final battle, Esteres died, and I was broken to this state and taken by the foul creations, chained to this throne. They foresaw their defeat and prepared deep plans hidden and locked away until the ripe moment. Half of Talos shattered into Shattirma, and entire continents were blown off the world, becoming Fallen Heaven. They turned their defeat into an opportunity. And I remained here, a prisoner awaiting my death." Metures rose from his throne, but when his knees parted from the seat, something pushed back. An invisible force rebounded him and forced him back on the throne.

"In the years to come, I watched and watched as the cycles renewed. People entered Fallen Heaven. Nearly all died. Some lived. And on it went. This tower… saps the strength from Talos. The denizens of Talos who die here, their souls, their flesh, their Ein, do not return to it. Thus, each time, Talos is drained, and nothing comes back." Metures pointed at Ignyres, "You don't feel it because you lost your connection to Talos, but I still feel it, the slow decay and waning of Talos's Ein."

'Why haven't the others acted? Okeanes? Xures? Tectones? Every single one of them!' Ignyres shouted in rage, his volcanic shoulders erupting.

"They are. They roam the world, collect as much Ein as possible, and feed it back to Talos. As time passed, I gained some control and started to counter. I started by destroying their titans and setting the destinations of a certain few who could enact my will, such as you, Oscar. But they had hidden one titan well enough, and with the coming of the Caerulumen intruder, they placed the piece where it needed to be."

Oscar recalled the titan he encountered in the frozen tundra, the one that awoke with a sacrifice of an ocean of blood and broke mountains in its path. According to Metures, there were several of those monstrous creations. Luckily, they had all been destroyed, save for one. Oscar shuddered in fear of what might have happened if more had awoken, imagining several towering titans crushing everyone beneath their feet.

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"In their haste to retreat, their efforts hid only one. But that is a crucial piece to their plan." Metures looked up, and Oscar followed his line of sight, seeing the barren ceiling of the absurdly large chamber that dwarfed Metures's height. But, surely, the Ancient of Metal saw something else, the red eyes narrowing and locking onto what Oscar could not see. "They will descend. It is soon. The pieces are in place, and all that is needed is the call. Fallen Heaven rests partly in Talos, but also out of it, the lynchpin that stands in between, as they wanted."

"They're coming here?" Oscar gasped and stared up again, hoping to see what Metures saw. If it was true, then the situation was more dire than he had assumed. Talos had no Volten, no ample Ein for a proper defense, according to Metures, and a sparse roster of Ancients compared to before. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped off his chin. What victory was there?

"They will come. I realized it when that woman of Issac, Evelyn of the Caerulumen, descended. Perhaps the crucial moment should have been four thousand years ago during Issac's time, but she stalled it. She fell in love and married him rather than continue the plan. Thanks to her, hope was born again." Metures made a gear-grinding chuckle.

"Evelyn…she was supposed to have a child, like Gilbert. That was her purpose…." Oscar murmured and grinned slightly, holding back a chuckle at his good friend's otherworldly charm. To woo a Caerulumen was probably no easy feat. Coughing, he stiffened and frowned at the splotch of black blood.

"Yes. One like Gilbert should have been born to her and someone else four thousand years ago. Fallen Heaven should have opened then and ushered in the Caerulumen, but she stopped it. Without a proper heir to carry on their will, they halted its opening." Metures continued. "I can control the opening by quickening it by a few years or delaying it the same, but they decide the era."

'You chose right.' Ignyres nodded in approval.

"The Caerulumen find it hard to pass on their bloodline. Thus, they seek out rare individuals who can assist in the endeavor. The Lockwood father, a man of no note, had those qualities. While it might scar their pride, they endure it for the sake of their plan. Gilbert's mother descended and bore a child, one of Caerulumen, but also born in Talos, of Talos blood, and, is thus, of Talos." Metures coughed, his armor creaking and groaning.

"Talos slumbers and cannot be stirred out of its state, lest it dies. It will direct its wrath to invaders. The Caerulumen could barely sneak in one of theirs, taking four thousand years after Evelyn's revolt, and had to pull Gilbert's mother out or suffer Talos's retaliation." Metures tore off a piece of his rusted armor and let it fall off his palm like red sand.

"But Gilbert doesn't need to worry." Oscar understood now. "Talos can't tell since half of him is of Talos and born here. Why didn't you tell anyone to kill him?"

"Delay. Delay. Delay. We have delayed for as long as we can. Talos needs a victory. A delay now would be our loss. Talos needs us now. So I let him be and focused on my counter." Metures beamed a strong glow from his red eyes and pointed at Oscar. "You. The antithesis of the Caerulumen. Luck? Fate? Destiny? Threads? I had no hand in your start, but you grew up as the perfect one."

"And the others?" Oscar asked about Saul and Lelith.

"One was formed from my shard. She had the potential to host me. As for Saul, his experiments brought him quite close, but he fell short and failed. So, I cast him out of my plans." Metures gripped the ends of his throne, the perpetual prison, and gasped a low screech of tearing metal. "My initial plan was to take over, to rebuild myself from them and walk again, not as an Ancient, but also not as a human, taking the fight to the Caerulumen. That would have been her fate. But with you, I have changed my intentions."

"How so?" Oscar stated flatly.

"You will be in control. My mind, my will, my soul will be no more. Your decisions and choices afterward shall be yours and yours alone. You will and will not be the Ancient of Metal. You will and will not be Metures. You are and always will be Oscar Terr, the human." Metures spoke louder and clearer, imposing a fierce resolve in his voice that now cut sharper than blades, tingling on Oscar's skin. "That is what we should have done long ago. Trust our powers in the hands of Volten, not control him to our whims. So, our redemption is now. My power, the power of the Ancient of Metal, will be yours. You will still be restricted to the limits of creation, but you will stand shoulder-to-shoulder, if not above the Caerulumen. Fight them or not. You are free."

Metures drew in a deep breath. "What say you?"

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