The Exalt Cultivation Fantasy

Act 3: Empire's Stand - Chapter 591: The Prologue Of The End

Act 3: Empire's Stand - Chapter 591: The Prologue Of The End

"He's a Lower Marshal Exalt now." Supported by Caires's remaining arm, Remulus stepped closer to the crater where Saul fell after a failed Primaere Baptism. His legs barely responded to his will, but he pushed himself, treading one light step at a time, wobbling as if walking on sticks. Remulus had to oversee this last moment. As Oscar's grandmaster and Saul's false old friend, he had to bear witness to the conclusion of the unfortunate fate between the two. That was his duty.

In the center of the crater, Saul looked miserable. His entire body burnt to a crispy char from the severe lightning of the baptism, and his lips barely moved, and when they did, weak gasps like the sounds of a sandy bagpipe wheezed out. He found it quite a fitting fate that Saul would become reduced to this broken form after all the years of the twisted experiments Oscar told him about. But it didn't relieve Remulus's heart. He stared coldly at Saul and then up to the sky, wondering where the justice was for his son and Oscar, for the countless many who died at Saul's hands.

Oscar slowly walked down the slope, his stride slow and eerily calm. A faint chill ran down Remulus's spine as he stared deeply at his grand disciple's back. He expected an outburst of anger or an emotional response to this moment, but…nothing. There was absolutely nothing to feel from the child, not the slightest spark of life. If he didn't know better, he could say he was watching a corpse walk back to another, a confusing and chilling scene.

Oscar reached Saul. Their gazes met, and Saul shuddered, able to see even with both eyes gone. What did Saul see? Remulus gulped at how Saul reacted. Oscar lifted Saul, the agonizing cries from the old elder rising to his ears, and pushed him to a slope, and the two met at eye level. Saul's breathing grew weaker as his head twitched around. Oscar raised a hand and clenched tightly. Remulus could only see his back as the fist drove itself into Saul's head, punching a gaping hold in the charred, weak flesh.

But it wasn't over, not at all. Oscar pulled out his hand, covered in a mess of blood, brain matter, and charred skin. He punched again. Then again. And again. Not a sound came from Remulus or Caires as they watched in silent horror. Saul's head split and broke further. But Oscar never stopped, his fist reverberating into the earth and collapsing a part of the crater. Half-buried in the dirt, he still kept punching, driving his fist repeatedly, burying Saul deeper into the earth until all that remained of the once proud Tricrown King Exalt was a mere splotch of red and bits of flesh.

"Remulus…I think he's…broken." Caires said.

"We've failed him. Every one of us has failed him." Deep regret struck Remulus like a cruel dagger into his chest.

Oscar dug into the dirt and uncovered a purple greater space pocket, Saul's personal inventory. He stashed it away in his bloodied clothes and walked up to the intact part of the crater. His gaze never met Remulus's or Caire's. He stepped past them and knelt before Draven's sitting corpse, silent for a few minutes. A smile had been permanently stretched across Draven's face, which had suffered grievous burns and wounds in the past. Gently, Oscar's hands closed Draven's dull, black eyes and rested the body to lay comfortably on the grass.

He took the chakrams and Draven's greater space pocket. Remulus stepped forward to say something, but Oscar mounted Erden, who also rose to the Lower Marshal Exalt realm. Without turning back, Oscar said in a voice that lost all vitality and emotion, "I'm never returning." Erden flew off in a burst of speed, already a diminishing spot in the distance.

Remulus knelt on the ground, short of breath. He didn't stop Oscar from leaving. He and Caires had expended all of their Ein, leaving them incapable of stopping anyone. Did he want to stop Oscar? No, Remulus thought. He had no right to stop Oscar, not after all of his mistakes. It seemed he would never be Primaere even if he could become a Tricrown King Exalt because of the regret nailed to his heart, a fitting punishment for a terrible elder like himself.

"It should have been me…." Remulus crawled over to Draven's body. He patted the head of the one he called son. "If you were still alive, you would have been able to help him. But all that remains is this old elder who can't help anyone. Caires. I don't deserve to be Pavilion Master anymore. John can take over now."

"That's your decision. What will you do now?" Caires stood up, clutching his shoulder where an arm was supposed to be.

"I will go into seclusion and wait. I still have a good amount of years in me. The time will arrive when I am needed. And when it comes, I will be ready to make up for everything." Remulus gathered the little strength he recovered and carried his son in his frail arms. Tears escaped his control, spilling onto his son's face. "I will ensure your sacrifice was not in vain."

The cry of the King Exalt reverbed into the world, a mournful wail that spread across the forests, its trees slightly bowing in the encroaching sadness.

…….

"Ancestor!" Upon his return to the Imperial Palace, Caires smiled and sighed in relief as a loving embrace wrapped around him. He rubbed the bed of silver hair and scolded teasingly, "The empress shouldn't run like a child and cry like a baby. But it's good to see you, Celestina."

"Your arm…why is your arm–" Celestina's voice trembled. She traced her hand over the shoulder, grasping the gap where the arm should have been.

Poor girl. Caires hugged her and chuckled, glad his family was safe and lively enough to be so worried. He feared Saul had planned the worst for everyone. The battle taxed him greatly, forcing him to slump and lean on his descendant for support. She quickly carried him to an intact room and placed him on the comfortable couch. Wanting to spend more time with her, he asked, "How is being the empress?"

Celestina stopped her hands, which were brewing tea, a steam rising from the pot, hiding parts of her weary face. "Exhausting. The number of duties I must perform far surpass my duties as princess."

Caires bellowed in laughter, coughing from the sharp pain that sprung up from within. He had exerted himself and faced a terrifying foe. Gulping down large mouthfuls of air, Caires felt the pain easing and his body relaxing. Celestina wiped his sweaty brow, a very filial descendant, one he was very proud of. Smiling, he sat up on the bench and accepted her tea, the smell loosening his tense brow, the aroma welling up a numbing calmness. "Your father said the same word. Blood doesn't lie."

"Father never had to handle the aftermath of a war and the new vast lands we acquired," Celestina said softly. She bandaged up the bloody shoulder. Not enjoying her depressed look, he pinched her cheek. Her reaction came quick as she scowled and abruptly tightened the bandages, forcing him to choke from the sharp pain.

"A Dragnar should be like that, proud like a dragon. Your father would smack you for thinking too deeply about his condition." Caires admired the carefully woven bandages and remembered Oscar's depravity as he desecrated Saul's corpse and left without a word. He lowered his head, ashamed that he couldn't stop any of it. In a rough, low voice, he said, "Never let yourself be dragged into that sinking quagmire. It nearly swallowed your father when your mother passed. And it consumed someone dear to us all."

"I understand. Wait…who are you talking about?" Celestina grabbed him by the shoulders and shook slightly. A frightful realization flashed over her emerald eyes, and Caires knew he had slipped up. She asked, "Did you find Oscar? Where is he?"

Caires remained silent. She shouted, unbecoming of her status, "Where is he?!"

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"Gone…he's gone. And he's never coming back." Caires caught her as she slumped to the couch. His proud descendant clutched her head in distress. He sighed, knowing hearing what happened would pain her, but she had a right to know. "I'll tell you everything that I saw."

…….

Inside one of the New Dawn bases, Sirsi kicked down the metal door, smashing the wall with her bloodied gauntlets. She shouted, "Aiden! The New Dawn leader is dead. See me now!" The moment she heard the news, she led a slaughter in the current base, a trail of corpses strung along before her feet. Sliding down the river of blood, she shouted again and found Aiden silently watching the heart of fire he snatched years ago. Knocking on the wall didn't get his attention, so she screamed into his ear, "Aiden!"

"Stop disturbing me. Why do I feel you're getting more unhinged?" Aiden sheathed his sword and carried the heart of fire. "The Ancient of Fire is not here, so I cannot commune with the flame."

"Is that why you didn't tell me the leader went after Oscar?" Sirsi glared at Aiden, surging her Vis into the Pseudoguise. She had been kept in the dark about all of this. Oscar was hers! Not anyone else's! For all her life, she never felt the certain premonition from anyone else other than Oscar, the assurance that the Volten savior would come from their union. Now, her plans nearly went awry because the leader tried to kill him. "You knew, didn't you, Aiden?"

"Calm down. On the bright side for you, Oscar is still alive. I did know. But if you did, what could you have done to stop it? Instead of taking your anger out on me, look for Oscar. Apparently, he's left the Farsky continent." Aiden answered.

"I don't need to worry about him. Right now, I want you to leave this place with me." Sirsi grabbed Aiden's collar, his face still calm and stoic.

"Oh? Why? You've even massacred everyone here." Aiden looked behind her, his pupils reflecting the path of her carnage.

"The leader is dead. What will the executives and branch heads think if we spread the news? Some of them are not the loyal type. The infighting will be amazing!" Sirsi smirked, excited to the point she saw her arm shivering. "You and I will form our group, the return of the true Voltens, not the false believers who follow Kais and Faust. I already have some loyal members gathered. You'll join me, right, Aiden?"

"What if I want to kill Oscar?" Aiden asked.

"Then, I'll kill you right now," Sirsi said coldly, clenching her fist as the blood rose into torrential waves that surrounded him.

"While I crave a battle. It is not with you. Your proposal is interesting. I do wish to fight Kais and Faust. Fine. I agree, but I won't listen to every one of your outlandish orders." Aiden showed no fear before her power.

"Perfect!" Siris smiled widely, delighted to have another on her side. She let him go and hummed as the bloody waves carried her away. She raised her gaze to the moon and wondered where Oscar was.

…….

A month later, Caires stood in the large courtyard of the newly rebuilt palace. He tapped his foot nervously on the paved stone, worried about the arrival of the delegation sent from the Primal Council. The war was won, and all had been settled by the Primaere of the Bloodlands, meaning there was no reason for the delegation to come. Yet, they were on the way. Caires frowned, trying to figure out the reason.

"Celestina. You should go inside. Leave it to this old man." Caires turned to his descendant. She needed more time before being able to keep a straight face before representatives of the Primal Council, a single slip implicating them of anything.

"Ancestor, I–" Celestina seemed to want to stay.

"No. They are far different from you and me. Go back in, and if that bastard, Gilbert, dares to ask for your hand in marriage again, let me know, and I will set him straight." Caires learned about Gilbert's proposal soon after she cried after hearing his retelling of Saul's betrayal and Oscar's tragedy. In a rage, he destroyed half of the Imperial Palace, ruining the progress made by his good people. Caires would never allow her to marry such an ungrateful twat who delayed his return. Seething, he breathed heavily, knowing the Primaere of the Bloodlands was also behind it. Who else could delay the information about the results of the Primanomachy?

"He went to the Bellariach Mountains for some reason. I'm fine for now." Celestina turned around and left.

'No doubt, he wanted us to be severely weakened to take hundreds of more years to catch up to him. He can't act directly due to the laws of the Primal Council, but his craftiness knows no bounds. But even worse is Gilbert, who could have easily departed by himself but chose to stay behind without care for his home.' Caires imagined the oceans of blood spilled and the countless corpses buried in the dirt. He clenched his fist. He heard a faint ringing noise growing louder from above. A small airship, domed and circular in shape, landed in the courtyard, rumbling hums blaring from its engines.

Caires bowed and said, "I greet the Primal Council!" Members of the Primal Council didn't come, but the people inside the ship represented their interests. The ship opened, a ramp extending from the door, and two individuals stepped out.

"Rise, Old Dragnar Ancestor. It has been a while since I last laid eyes on you." An old man with a blindfold over his head and a hunched back, reaching half of Caires's height, tapped his walking stick in rhythm on the stone. "Get it? Eyes?" He laughed in a weird, shrill manner.

"Old Julius. It has been a long time. Do you remember the baby you once met? I named him after you." Caires rose and hugged the old man. At least the Primal Council sent someone he knew. "How are you not dead?"

"Simple. Just do nothing. Be a turtle for many years and extend your own life." Old Julius sat on the stone floor. There was nothing to fear from him, but one look at the other, and Caires shuddered, death standing before him. Old Julius patted Caires and said to the other, "Step back. You're too frightening up close, you dunce."

Garbed in an executioner's mask and a ragged gray robe, the figure stepped back, but the soulless eyes still peered into Caires. No doubt this stranger was a Tricrown King Exalt and a very young one as well. Thankfully, Celestina was not here; her mind might have shattered from staring too long at him.

"Am I in trouble?" Caires asked.

"No. No. No." Old Julius jabbed his walking stick each time. "The Primal Council only has a few questions to ask you. In particular, they noticed that your empire used some interesting contraptions. You know those interesting golems and that giant ship made from many ships. Who made them? And do you have the plans?"

"And why is the Primal Council so interested in toys?" Caires kept a cool face, not betraying a hint of unnecessary emotion, staying amicable to Old Julius. They wanted Oscar or at least the many blueprints he possessed.

"The council wonders if perhaps a little knowledge has made a resurgence. Ashen Grove is the old home of the Divine Stone Clan, a history you probably don't know about. They believed nothing of their legacy survived. Until now." Old Julius stuck his walking stick into the pavement, a heavy pressure emanating from the blindfolded man. "Did you find something they missed?"

'I do know of the Divine Stone Clan. Oscar told me years ago. To think their name still lingers after thousands of years. These old bastards….Don't make it worse for that boy!' Since the Primal Council had a hint, Caires boldly responded, "I don't know what you're talking about."

…….

In Fallen Heaven, Metures remained motionless on his broken throne, with red light flickering from his visor. Reaching out his hand, he grabbed the empty air, which distorted into countless Threads, voices whispering into his mind and emotions battering against his steely hull. In a forceful tug, the Threads mixed and changed.

"It's too early. It's too early for the Primal Council or the Caerulumen to find you. I have deceived the Thread, so they can't trace you. But come quickly. Come to the Fallen Heaven and find me. You are the most suitable candidate."

His red eyes dimmed into darkness.

…….

A breeze flew over, but a single swing of his hand dispersed the rowdy winds. Demon sat on the small deck of a personal airship, one he stole from a group of bandits. He roasted a slab of meat and devoured it whole. There was no taste, but the body demanded sustenance. Erden stared into the night, resting on the ship's tip, his antler wings sprawled down, lacking vitality. Demon neared him and scoffed, "You're going to sit and mope?"

"Oscar…is he really?" Erden's voice whimpered.

Demon placed his hand over his chest, where the core rested. Inside the inner world, he glanced at the identical figure who lay down, hugging his knees with eyes that seemed emptier than his own. There was no will to fight anymore, only a hopelessness of waiting for death to claim him. "He's broken. Perhaps he will never break free from this state. But we have work to do. Revenge and survive."

"They will never stop hunting us," Erden growled.

"Then fight with me. We hate each other. But Oscar is what we all fought for. Use me, and let me use you. We'll slaughter every single one of them." Demon proclaimed.

"Well said. At long last, in the void of your thoughts, I see the flame of passion." Ignyres praised. "Yes. Let vengeance be the flame that drives you. I must get to Fallen Heaven and have some heavy words to insult Metures."

"Then, give me your power. I have always fought so we could survive, but this…will not go unpunished, even if we die." Demon gripped his fists, feeling anger for the first time in his existence. He looked at the broken, lifeless Oscar in the inner world and promised to appease him with a mountain of corpses, even if the entire world had to die with him.

"Let the rivers run red in the blood of our enemies. Let the sky fall asunder to my rage. Nothing will stop us."