The Exalt Cultivation Fantasy

Act 4: Fallen Heaven - Chapter 603: When The Lord Is Away

Act 4: Fallen Heaven - Chapter 603: When The Lord Is Away

Santen preferred quietness and peace. His creed ever since he was imprisoned and experimented on by the New Dawn was to excel at being calm. However, right now, his usual calm was compromised. Clasping his trembling hands together, he breathed in and out in a hypnotic rhythm, his chest heaving up and down, matching the ebbs and flows of the ocean waves crashing on shore outside. He counted each time, but more shouting and curt remarks filled his ears, clinging to his hearing like an annoying gnat buzzing around.

"I have no problem tearing off every hair from your head, you ice witch!" As usual, Kragg's goading and threats started every meal. Santen retrieved a piece of chicken from a plate they placed in an indent on the floor that was missing a plank to even it out. He bit into it, sighing at the grease flowing down his long, skinny arm. Nothing was going right today. Kragg smashed a plate and growled like a beast, glaring at Astrid, the new member, with a menacing glint in those cat-like pupils.

"A crude threat from a crude man. Behave yourself." Astrid smirked, a smug look that enraged Kragg further as he stood up, the tattoos on his body squirming as if they were alive while his face contorted. She stood up and balled her hands into fists, not backing down against Kragg's threatening posture. Santen blinked his large, fish-like eyes in astonishment. How could she be so prideful enough to antagonize everyone? Kragg and Marcus couldn't help it due to the arrogant beastly instincts lingering on every thought.

'There's nothing to be proud of. We were all weak prisoners under the heel of the New Dawn….' Santen stood up, the others halting from his sudden movement. He took a plate of chicken and some sides and marched to the exit, closing the makeshift door they had placed in earlier today. The crisp night breeze swayed the green shrub on his head, tickling his pores. He breathed a puff of white, hot air and felt his head cooling down. He sat beside Marcus, who was guarding the entrance a few steps away, and gave him the plate of food. "Every time Lord Draven leaves, you sit here and protect the entrance. Eve will keep worrying if you don't eat."

"Thanks. But it's my responsibility." Marcus tied his blond hair back and gladly ate the food, a slight smile forming as he chewed. "I also have you to rely on to give me food when I'm out here. It all works out in the end."

"Ah, at least it's peaceful talking to you outside." Santen enjoyed the respite outside, facing the lazy moon that shone, surrounded by stars. Soon, the shouting resumed from inside the house, every vulgar insult and chilling threat imaginable echoing out of the thin walls. Groaning, he scratched his flat nose, finding no peace.

"They're quite lively." Marcus laughed, setting his empty plate aside. He received a cup of tea from Santen, a perfect remedy for the oily chicken.

"We can only hope they mellow out as time passes. I don't think I'll be eating much inside anymore. It's too noisy." Santen chortled in a series of loud, rapid clicks. Blinking once, he lowered his voice even further than his norm, enough to escape their sensitive ears. "She's too eager to prove herself, but her actions drive others away rather than pull them into confidence. Isn't it enough to know we all suffered the same pain?"

"You can't change her nature much like how we can't change yours. You're too passive and unwilling to get involved. That's why the others look to you for reasoning and me for a decision. Initiative. With that, I bet you could be the leader in Lord Draven's absence. Astrid has too much of it." Marcus sipped his tea and perked up, staring deep into the long night. Santen followed his gaze and locked onto the shadows that moved in the void between stars, the moonlight barely catching their figures.

Marcus stood up, cracked his neck, and clenched his hand on his obsidian dagger. "I guess Astrid will have a chance to prove herself. How many do you see?"

"Nine? No. Ten. Ten of them, and a few are faces I recognize. Was your warning not enough?" Santen recalled three of the faces as three of the leaders who ruled a piece of the Lunate Continent, one a king of a small kingdom, one the head of a family, and the other the leader of a sect. He had subjugated their respective factions and forced them to pay their tributes.

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"Those bastards…don't have any idea." Marcus's immense Ein erupted, a fierce grin stretching across his face. "Good! At least this continent can offer a challenge! I'll offer their heads as an apology to our lord for my arrogance last time."

"Haha! Look, witch!" Kragg slammed the door open and pointed at the ten approaching enemies. "Already prey has gladly offered themselves. Whoever kills the most is the winner."

"Competing in killing lowly Exalts like them may be of worthy competition for someone like you but not me. And turning them into a game is simply an insult to our lord because they came here to oppose him, no? They shouldn't breathe a second more for a mere contest. Kill them quickly." Astrid floated forward, fearless and arrogant, about to head out to face the ten Exalts.

Santen stretched his long arm and stopped her. She let out a piercing, cold stare into him, but a flicker of shock passed over her, and she relented, stopping before him. Santen sighed and asked the others, "Marcus, Kragg, and Astrid can take three of them, and I'll talk down the other. Does that seem fair?"

"A fine decision like always. Is that fair to everyone?" Marcus asked and received a silent nod from everyone else. Kragg started first, roaring a mighty shout that trembled the shores. He clapped his hands, forming a pair of lightning claws on his hands, a storm brewing above him that clapped in thunderous booms. Three of the Exalts were immediately separated from the others as Kragg bolted in between, his teeth fully protruding into fangs. The battle-hungry maniac was already starting his transformation.

Marcus joined in, unsheathing only a part of his blade to a third of the way out. A small horn began to protrude from his forehead, and a scattering of scales glimmered on his skin. His draconic roar stumped the Exalts momentarily, a moment he took to swipe his claws, tearing the air with his flying scales. He took another three Exalts, holding them down through the sheer might of his physical prowess and toughness that endured their harshest blows, their weapons clanging on his skin while spells bounced off his claws.

Astrid calmly floated to the remaining three and covered the area in a snowstorm, hiding everyone inside from the prying eyes outside. Not even Santen could see what was going on in there. The howling frigid winds that empowered the snowstorm also covered any sounds that could come from inside. But he sensed Astrid's Ein growing stronger while the others waned, dispersing his worries for the new member.

"Good evening. There is no need to fight. I am the Third. May we stand and speak rather than fight." Santen observed his surroundings with a scrutinizing eye, spotting no one else in hiding. He held great faith in his sight, no longer concerned by any ambushes, and focused entirely on the one foe remaining, someone he recognized. "King Sornem, why do you break the agreement between us and your kingdom? Your actions today will only bring further ruin, which I do not wish upon you."

"Aye. You speak truly. We all lay down in fear for the past month, but no more! The slaying of three and their second-in-commands may have stripped many of their will to fight, but we stand ready to fight for our freedom!" King Sornem coughed and lifted his sword, a great claymore, holding it close to his chest. His gray hair, unkempt and overgrown, flowed past his broad face, draping beneath his shoulders. A golden crown rested on his aged hair, a blue cloak swayed to the breeze, and a kingly robe fastened by a black belt granted him a majestic look.

His coughs worsened, and the deeper wrinkles that Santen had not seen before trembled. Santen said, "You're dying."

"Obvious, isn't it? Once I'm dead, my kingdom will be in ruins. None of my successors have the strength to hold it together, and the people who once held loyalty to my kingdom will turn on them." King Sornem laughed, coughing in between each laughter. "Our history ends with me, but I will have it be an end worthy of remembrance. Remember the Sornem Kingdom that once stood defiantly against a terrifying foe. Thank you for singling me out. My honor would be tarnished to face you alongside others."

"I see. I can understand your feelings, King Sornem. Is there a son or daughter you favor? We can help them become your successor and keep your kingdom intact." Santen bowed slightly.

"No. That is their road to walk. You can extend its life by force, but it will never be the Sornem Kingdom that my ancestors and I have built and cared for. If any can rise and claim the throne by their wit and talent, they will have proven themselves worthy in spirit to carry on our legacy." King Sornem denied his offer, pointing out his claymore at Santen, a glimpse of moonlight shining from the edge. "Now, let me fight my final battle. Let my life burn its brightest near its end!"

"Very well. In honor of your determination, I will grant you the finale you wish for." Santen wept a single tear. "One strike, one exchange, one death."