The Exalt Cultivation Fantasy

Act 4: Fallen Heaven - Chapter 678: Fallen Heaven's Tendencies

Act 4: Fallen Heaven - Chapter 678: Fallen Heaven's Tendencies

The rusted arms rose like great pillars, shaking slightly to brush off the rubble and dust. A piece of its armor plating cracked off and stabbed down, plunging deep into the ground. Time hadn't been kind to it. The arms lowered and gripped the shores of the basin, pushing the rest of its body out of the fallen palace. The remains of the palace clattered in a landslide, tumbling off the surfacing monstrosity like water as its head peeked out first. It didn't have two glowing red eyes but six, three on each side, vertically lined, glaring from the rusted helmet sporting two straight horns.

Great crackles of Ein arced along its rusted frame, parts of its fingers jolting as the Ein burned onto its joints. In a forceful pull, it dragged the rest of its body out of the ground, the waters of the basin now pouring and emptying into the seemingly bottomless pit where the golem once slept. Its rusted greaves stomped, quaking the earth, and it shrugged as if cracking its tense shoulders that certainly hadn't been moved in countless years. Oddly, Oscar found it looked similar to Metures if the thick armor wasn't rusted and the horns didn't adorn the helmet, a mighty titan of steel and grit.

Slowly, the rusty neck creaked and cracked as it turned toward him, the six mechanical eyes glaring a dense red stare, diminishing as if narrowing its eyes. Oscar stood on one of the highest peaks so far in the tundra, yet the titan's head still gazed down at him, observing him from above. The air trembled, and great gusts swirled in a turbulent storm by the simple raising of its arm, forcing Oscar's eyes to squint, barely enough to see the hand opening and reaching out at him. Flakes of rust fell like snow, the thick smell of iron comparable to blood. Oscar gathered a great amount of Eirin into his feet and prepared to run even if his legs might burst.

"New Directive." The mechanical voice echoed. The golem halted. The shadow of its hand loomed over Oscar and the others, their clothes caked in powdered rust. It retracted its arm and turned around. Each stomp shook and settled his heart as it went away, uncaring of any obstacles, never breaking from its straight path. It pushed itself against one of the mountains with the statue. It was the first time Oscar had seen such a domineering walk. The mountain caved in and collapsed apart, thousands of cracks resounding in resistance, and the titan kept pushing in, crushing the ruins of the once beautiful peak under its feet. It seemed unharmed despite thousands of tons of rock and snow crashing on it. Where a mountain once stood, now a bed of rocks spread out in a flat, snowy plain, large footprints etched into the dirt, where naught but gravel and pebbles remained.

'Talos be damned! It's one of those.' Ignyres shouted. 'Shit! It all makes sense now. No wonder they set up this place so cleanly for others to enter. All the bloodshed in the estate and the bodies of countless Exalts would empower that titan to awaken.'

'So we failed?' Oscar tried to dust off the rust, but it clung tightly to his white robes. Not even a week after receiving them, he already had to change to another, a waste of Volten's gifts. He sighed and gazed deeply at the titan still demolishing any obstacles before it, flattening a path through the nearby mountain range.DiiScôver new stories on

'Nay! We succeeded. Because of our interference, the other golems gave up their preserved Ein to hasten its awakening before it was ready. Rather than being the great forest fire it should have been, it is more like a single tree on fire.' Ignyres cackled.

'Ah, that's why it left.' Oscar recalled Gol-4's endless lectures on golem crafting, particularly the priorities and directives embedded in the golems and how they choose the best option depending on circumstances. The titan must have judged trying to kill him to be a costly endeavor, too much for its limited Ein resources, and focused on its main mission. But, he felt something amiss, the timing being too good. 'It's main directive must be...' He pondered, and a face of blue eyes and hair propped up in his mind as a frown deepened on his lips.

'Doesn't it seem odd?' Oscar noted Ignyres's silence and carried on, 'The eleventh land in the center is always the same, but the ten lands always vary. It's unpredictable which lands will converge for the opening of Fallen Heaven. So, how is this tundra one of the ten during Gilbert's time? Coincidence? Sounds bullish to me.'

A rather large group of Exalts showed themselves as they ascended the mountain, heads leading into shoulders, then the rest of their bodies. They outnumbered Oscar's group, the leader at the forefront narrowing his gaze, gesturing for his people to stop. Forty in total, that was how many came. Oscar eyed each one, not recognizing a single face until he saw a particular person, his eyes round underneath his helmet. The man stuck in his sight had golden hair and red eyes, a handsome, welcoming face, and thin lips. From the information that Ollanar, the leader of the Defiants, had given him, he knew the features well.

Likewise, Serit returned the widened gaze and flattened his mouth, closing his eyes as if pondering. Oscar clicked his tongue. Serit definitely knew him.

The leader spoke up, "Identify yourself. I am–"

"There is nothing to say. Not between you and me." Oscar interrupted the introductions. The rude act made the leader bare his teeth and grip his weapon. Oscar sighed and stared at Serit, "Act or do not. No playing around. Will you fulfill your duty?"

"What nonsense are you–" The leader raised his voice, but a blade stuck out from his throat, blood splurting as he gargled, flailing his arms as horror paled his face. The others in that group couldn't react or shout in response. Several others attacked the other members, killing in a single swift blow, cutting their throats. The betrayed gasped and whimpered on the red snow, floating in puddles of their own blood. They clutched and clawed the feet of the betrayers, their disbelief and confusion warping and twisting their expressions before death finally came and ended their futile struggles.

"You put us in a tight spot. I've been working these men for a few months now for intel." Serit sounded irked, his gentle and deep tone rushing its words out. He shook his head and snapped his fingers, the others performing clean-up operations on the dead, mainly looting and burning the bodies. "So, Isaac's heir. Our great leader ordered us to follow you. Though, I'd much rather look for my wife, if you don't mind. Ah, my dear, where are you?" He groaned like a stage actor and brushed his hand over his hair, slicking it back.

"Then, we're on the same boat. We're brother-in-laws, after all. Maybe our wives are together." Oscar said casually.

"Huh?" Serit tilted his head. He stared blankly at Oscar. "Huh?"