The Exalt Cultivation Fantasy

Act 4: Fallen Heaven - Chapter 737: The Endless War Continues

After so long, the moment finally arrived. Oscar had been worried the entire time while sitting in the farthest place from where the fighting reached its climax. His solace lay in the fact that Lelith was dead, consoling his disturbed mind that it was enough; he had done all he could. Now, everyone's efforts bore fruit, lending the time and aid for Auren to complete his formation. It was a risky plan with a horrid array of unknowns and variables beyond his control, but luckily, it worked. He had no clue as to the statuses of all of his people. All he knew was they certainly followed his instructions, their loyalty allowing no less.

Between the crevices and cracks laden in the ceiling, bright Ein shimmered and filled the gaps, like veins pumping pure light instead of blood. A downpour of light and Ein in the form of mist spilled forth like a river rushing out of a broken dam. Oscar stood and received the gift of light, grunting as the immense Ein dug into every pore and infused itself into him. Visibly, his wounds healed, the cauterized scabs peeling off for new skin to reveal itself and the long, fresh scars fading away. He shivered and spat out a mouthful of black blood that had been stuck in his internal organs. Finally, their victory was at hand.

"Well done. Your allies have all healed and are at full strength. A brand new day dawns on them. Some have unfortunately perished beforehand. But the advantage is now yours." Metures laughed. "The Convergence is approaching. Ready yourself, Oscar. Your time will soon be here."

"Will I still need to accept your offer if the Caerulumen don't descend?" Oscar asked, probing for more information. He couldn't shake off the feeling that Metures knew more about what was happening or would happen. After all, the Ancient of Metal's words always carried a heavy certainty to them, as if no other arguments or paths could diverge their intent.

"They will descend," Metures sounded certain. "That is certain. Nothing can change this outcome, not even your best efforts. The will of the traitors, their determination forged and sharpened for countless years since their loss and retreat, shall not be broken here. You've seen it. In the man named Gilbert. The unshakeable belief in his foul bloodline."

"Can you not act? Kill him here and end it now." Oscar already knew the answer.

"No. During the years of Fallen Heaven's opening, the throne, my prison, tightens its hold on me. I can do very little, even in this room. I place my hopes in you." Metures fiddled with one of his fingers and pulled it off, showing the rust rotting it from the inside. "I used too much of my power in recent years, for you, for others. My death is close." His glowing red eyes shifted to stare past Oscar, and he sighed heavily, sounding like the groaning of metal. "Indeed, the mistakes of our past will persist to the present."

Oscar followed Metures's line of sight and frowned at the woman marching in with a wide grin. Her blond hair draped and flowed like a golden tapestry, silky and glossy, shining brightly underneath the shimmering ceiling. While he wondered how Sirsi had managed to make it down here, he didn't speak nor consider listening to her vile words, raising his arm with fierce Eirin blazing in Pseudoguise. Right now, he didn't have any other intent other than to kill her and end the sad chapter of Volten's life, having felt the warrior's deep regret for his descendants.

"Geez, can't you welcome me with anything else?" Sirsi winked one of her violet eyes but focused on Metures behind him, bowing in reverence with her head touching the ground. "I greet the Ancient of Metal, Lord Metures. I, the descendant of Volten's blood, have arrived. May the Ancients bless this union between us and show favor to the savior that will be."

"Stay your hands. She, the Voltens, is our responsibility." Metures halted them, his words carrying a weight that constricted their limbs and forced the Ein back inside their cores. "Tell me. Young daughter of Volten. Why do you persist in this path even though my brother in fire told you the truth?"

"Lord Metures! Our bloodline has lived on, enduring the curse of Reis, living in remote areas for peace. The burden of countless Voltens, their wishes carried over for countless years, lives on in me. Please do not deny us this. If so, then what has it all been for? You've watched us from above and have seen our suffering, heard our cries. Please, we must have the Volten savior." Sirsi raised her head and pleaded with tears streaking down her cheeks, desperation creasing her fair brow in deep wrinkles. She gained no sympathy from Oscar as he stared her down, waiting to strike and kill her. But he had to admire her wholehearted devotion, as crazed her desires and actions were. But death should be her fate here, lest the Ancient of Metal stop him.

"You…Volten…the abominable acts we've committed…yes, they were all necessary for Talos. But no longer. Your plight is meaningless to the survival of our beloved Talos. A new future has been forged. The old ways are dead." The indifference and apathetic cruelty in Meture's answer even made Oscar wince. The Ancient of Metal wasn't going to interfere in his plans to kill her, good, but he couldn't help but pity Sirsi, who suffered unnerving jolts and shakes as if her brain had been damaged. Her violet gaze widened and fixated on Metures, her mouth mumbling nonsense.

"No! How can…how can you abandon us? Everything we did, we did for Talos! For the wishes of our ancestors and the Ancients!" Sirsi screamed.

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A loud snap quaked the earth, and Sirsi vanished; any echo of her words cut short and ended as if she had never been here, her existence wiped off from this place. It was so sudden that Oscar stared, unable to comprehend what had just happened. One moment, she was there, but now she wasn't. He turned to the source of the snap and saw a finger and a thumb split off Meture's hand, the rusted metal clattering with dull sounds and crumbling apart into sands of rust soon after.

"It is done. Hopefully, the past will never surface again, and we will never need a Volten savior. That is what the man would have wanted. It's a pity. If they had produced one earlier, I would have rejoiced, but now, I think the future where we need one may not be one where Talos survives. May we never need the steel of their blades." Metures rested back on his throne, wheezing out puffs of rust, and Oscar pitied the Ancient of Metal.

Metures looked up. "Indeed, the Caerulumen boy is relentless and will not back down. Prepare yourself, Oscar. They are coming, and he will ensure it at the much cost, enough to tip the scales in our favor."

…….

Auren rejoiced and let out a triumphant shout, still basking the light of his formation. For many sleepless nights that lasted for six months, he unraveled and created the complex formation to mimic the grade-four light element spell, Archgrace, the best healing spell that burned out poison and recovered flesh. Layered on that was another formation that linked the outgoing spell to the blood provided, thereby reaching everyone. Hundreds of thousands of his marks riddled the walls of the dark tower, written in blood and pain, all worth it for his Lord's victory.

"Thank you," He bowed to each of the Champions. They had expended the Ein in their cores and became functionally dead. Auren collected them and stood on the highest disk, overlooking the fruit of his hard labor. The beasts of the Lands of Zeret overwhelmed their fouler counterparts. Phoenixes skewered dragons on their beaks, crows dug talons in the injured scales of their serpentine foes, and stampedes of a myriad of others trampled over the rest. On the other side, Fenu led the hundreds of their army in a brave charge, overwhelming the weakened foes, boisterous shouts of preeminent victory rising with each one slain.

Nearby, the other Divine Enforcers, lacking the spearman Cel, withdrew but could not shake off the pursuit of the strongest forces of Shattirma, the Argent Scions, the highest above all other than the Shattered Scion. A piercing scream forced Auren to shut his ears, and he found the source below, witnessing Celestina's rapier piercing Arlena's shoulder, the devilish face of the holy daughter twisting in pain and broken pride. Good. Auren sighed in relief at the victories surrounding him.

"Renn, Gloria!" He heard his Lady's cry, his Lord's beloved rushing up and embracing Renn and Gloria. Auren frowned and scrutinized the area, frowning. His Lord had not appeared yet. Did the journey below take too long? What happened to his Lord? Catching himself in a dangerous line of thought, Auren tossed aside his worries and trusted his Lord's decisions, berating himself for being a fool like Kragg always chided him for. His attention drew toward the battle between Lysander and Gilbert and relaxed as Lysander pushed the blue-haired prick back.

…….

"Give it up. You lost." Lysander smacked down with a large diamond palm that could crush a fort. Gilbert raised his broadsword and cut it in half, suddenly feeling weaker. A heavy diamond punch rammed into his ribs, forcing the air from his lungs. Gilbert gasped and retreated, noticing his Ancestral Mark had been broken, the pieces scattering to the wind. Lysander shook the lightning off his knuckles and sighed. "How interesting. We've both been placed second fiddle to that man. Even I have become a simple tool in his hand. Great! Great! I can't get enough of this."

'Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!' Gilbert screamed in his mind while holding back the blood rising from his chest. He refused to show a hint of weakness. An explosion of electricity expanded, swirling around Lysander and locking him in a prison of lightning. However, a casual swing reduced his spell to mere fizzling sparks. At that moment, Gilbert realized he couldn't win; the mere thought was humiliating and angered him, but he had no way to deny it. The gap between them had reversed and widened.

'Don't stare at me like that! Don't you dare stare at me like that!' Panting, Gilbert gritted his teeth and clenched his broadsword so tightly his palms bled. Too long, for all of his childhood, he had endured those same stares from others. Some showed joy in bullying him and anger at his constant need for aid, but the types that pierced his soul deeper than any other were the indifferent gazes that disregarded him as if he wasn't alive, mere dust in their path. How dare they? He was a Grade Nine of the noblest blood in all of existence.

'I can't lose! I can't lose! I will ascend and take my place!' Gilbert knew what had to be done and escaped, dodging Lysander's ceaseless pursuit. He headed for the titan, the gift of his ancestors. His words found strength and erupted in a great cry, "Titan! Get me to the center! Use your power! Kill them!"

"Noted drops in Ein levels will affect the output of the formation." The titan responded.

"Just. Do. It!" Gilbert shouted.

"Affirmative, successor." The titan raised its arms as Gilbert laughed, mocking Lysander, who retreated. Everyone scurried away like rats, mere ants before the titan's feet. Looking down from atop the titan's head, he was sure this view was meant for him, no other. Rays of powerful Ein bombarded the path forward and fired at anyone who tried to draw near. The titan stomped ahead and reached the disks.

The damned intruders had already escaped, leaving the disks empty. He wished he had the chance to kill the damnable formation user who destroyed all of their plans with a single formation. But that time would be later, especially with his kin. Gilbert leaped up and reached the center of the highest disk, kneeling. He glanced up and stared at the starry sky, trying to peer past it to the home of the Caerulumens, his people.

"I will go home!" Gilbert slammed his hands on the floor. The titan stood underneath as the other disks spread and rotated around its massive frame. The last crackles of Ein burned out of its eyes, a rusted husk remaining in place as the Ein linked the disks in a special configuration stored within the titan. It had been for this moment. Gilbert screamed out as the Ein poured from the dark tower and pierced the sky, "Let the way be opened!"

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