The Exalt Cultivation Fantasy

Act 3: Empire's Stand - Chapter 540: Gavir's Plan

The day began to shift as the two suns dimmed near the other side of the plains. Forcing himself for one last push, Oscar cast a rain of fire and gold, his enemies being deterred long enough for his final strike, a fiery Eirin Omnireus. The full force of his and Erden's flames scattered the last few foes before him, and he came out the other side, a mess of sweat and blood covering his helmet, a few droplets trickling through his visor and wetting his cheeks. He had been fighting for several hours now, constantly delayed by the enemy's tactics and Gavir's orders not to push too far.

A distance away, he spotted a vast formation of airships and flying Exalts, a plethora of Ein at the ready in their hands and cannons, aimed directly at him but not released. It was getting late as the last light of the two suns was fading by the second. Behind him, his Black Aegis Order and other troops couldn't contain their fatigue, panting heavily and leaning as if they were about to fall over at any minute. Taking one last glance at the emerald flags in the distance, Oscar clicked his tongue and ordered the retreat and cleanup, which his forces happily obliged, cheering on their merry slaughter back to the left army headquarters.

The smell of rotting bodies, burnt flesh, and thick blood wafted everywhere, and Oscar found himself staring around. Below, the vast green plains had been dyed blood red, a deep swamp of death in the center. The costs of the first day seemed costly already. How many lives have been lost so far? Oscar bit his lip, thankful the others couldn't see through his helmet, knowing his expression would not inspire anyone. The fleet descended and landed on the plains to rest the engines and restore the used Ein, a temporary base for the soldiers to sleep and rest. Wandering through the base, he settled on a good location to react fastest to any enemy ambush, intent on shielding the others if it ever came to it.

"Good work today. Get some rest." Oscar removed his helmet and leaned on the hull of an airship. Now, it was time for the worst part. As the leader, he had a duty to fulfill, but he hated this part and grimaced, asking, "How many did we lose today?"

Fred cleaned his twin swords, sitting on a small log. "During the battle, we led fifteen airships, around two hundred Knight Exalts, and the hundred of our order. We've lost around ten of our Black Aegis Order, twenty Knight Exalts, and three airships." Fred took out a small canteen and tilted it to his mouth. Strangely, his friend tightened the cap and placed it back.

"How many survived the airships?" Oscar asked, covering his dark expression with his hand.

"None…it's impossible to focus on rescue during the fight, so they all either exploded with the airship or fell." Fred reached again for the canteen, holding it as if not knowing whether to drink it or not. Oscar reached out, and Fred gave him the canteen. He opened and sniffed it, a thick scent of alcohol rushing through his nostrils. Frowning, he shook the bottle at Fred, the alcohol audibly swirling and swishing inside. Fred put on a guilty look and raised his hands in defeat. "I know. I know. I just keep it around."

"Keep what around?" Emily barged in, drying her hair with a towel, already washed up somehow, Esther and Uren following behind. She squinted at the canteen in Oscar's hand and slowly moved her fiery gaze to Fred.

"It's mine." Oscar drank a deep swig of the spicy alcohol, holding his lips tightly to keep them from twitching. His stomach and throat suffered the most, burning internally. Ignoring Emily's deadly stare, he noticed Susan wasn't among them. "Is Susan resting?"

"The moment they saw each other during the battle, they rushed toward each other. Please don't punish her too much for breaking formation." Esther readjusted Uren's bandages, her face turning into a sullen look that attracted one's pity.

Oscar sighed and shook his head. Having a single person disobey his command or go against the formation was a dangerous action that endangered the others. Susan was also one of the healers and shouldn't place herself in danger out of the protection of the others. He understood the yearning emotions that drove her to break apart, but if he was to be an effective leader, proper punishment needed to be enacted.

"Soup's on!" Alec came through, carrying a piping-hot pot of white soup. He tossed everyone a bowl and filled it individually, bragging about his recipe. After filling Oscar's bowl, Alec clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Captain, you should be wary about how far you take your battles. If it hadn't been for me suggesting we split, our rear and flank would have been devastated."

"I'll leave the strategizing to you, Alec. You're daring enough to use me as bait, so be more outlandish in your ideas." Oscar swirled the soup, chuckling at Alec's displeasure as he ranted on. Somehow, this man reminded him of Fenu, crafty and wily. Little wonder, he managed to become the boss of his cell on wit alone, earning the loyalty of the others. Blowing the hot soup on his spoon, Oscar was about to eat when someone interrupted, calling out his name.

"I repeat! Where is Margrave Terr?" The messenger, bearing a long banner on his spear, shouted.

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Oscar raised his hand and placed his soup to the side. "I'm here. What is your business with me?"

"Apologies, Margrave Terr. You have been summoned to a meeting right now." The messenger turned around, and Oscar sighed, scowling at Erden, who was licking his soup. He told his friends and soldiers to rest well and caught up to the messenger, walking across the groups of soldiers resting around their campfires, pots of soup boiling and bubbling and skewered meat roasting to a juicy char. Many stopped and stared at Oscar, bowing slightly in reverence. Perhaps they saw his fighting today. It explained the strange enthusiasm and zeal they greeted him with, clearly different from before.

On a small table on a hill, Gavir and Phillip chatted, holding their weapons. Phillip noticed Oscar's arrival and stood up, saluting and bowing. "Thank you for your timely attack. You've saved many of my men today."

"It's what I should do. What is alarming is the enemy who stalled you for quite a long time." Oscar clasped Phillip's arms, not wanting him to bow like a servant, and sat down together. A rather large pile of steaks was placed on the table, invoking hunger to grumble out of his stomach. Not wasting time, he bit into the juicy steak and waited for Phillip to speak, curious about the enemy he faced.

"Normally, I can slice my way through the enemy, but this one in particular was like me, a swordsman of great renown. He is Hajen of the Ten Winds, the Seventh Wind. He's a great swordsman, possessing great skills and a Grade Seven Exolsia. Years ago, I killed the Ninth Wind, and Hajen seemed very vengeful." Phillip slowly unsheathed his blade, examining it before closing it shut.

"The Ten Winds…." The Thousand Storm Palace gifted the title of Storm to their prominent Marshal Exalts. Similarly, the Knight Exalts of great talent and feats earned the title of Wind, a great starting point to become one of the future Storm title holders. This battle might be tougher than he hoped. Oscar silently ate his steak, grabbing another piece.

"Not just the Ten Winds, the Storms have come out to fight. Lord Abraham Raeven tangled with one for the whole day, as did Grand Commander Ward and Great Elder Robert." Gavir relayed the statuses of the battles in the other armies. To Oscar's shock, he described it as a relatively quiet day. "None of the armies on both sides attempted anything drastic on the first day. If I'm reading them correctly, and I'm usually right, they will attempt something on the second day. Lord Abraham has given us full autonomy over our side of the battle."

Gavir cleared the table and recreated yesterday's events using pieces on the newly laid-out map. "A standard first wave to scope us out. They know they outnumber us, so they have room to spare. In doing so, they've identified both of you. Their aim will certainly be taking out one of you. Seventy percent chance it's Lord Raeven."

"Find the easiest head to take and watch the body flounder. Phillip does seem like the obvious choice." Oscar apologized to Phillip for the remark.

"So, am I the bait?" Phillip chuckled, a fearsome gleam beaming from his eyes; a true swordsman through and through.

"Not necessarily. There is another option." Gavir sat them down and explained.

The next morning, Oscar set out with the army, positioning themselves in their previous formations. There was no change in the enemy's formations, seemingly normal as usual, but he sensed something off, as if everything was a facade. Gavir was right about them attempting something today, Oscar's instincts raising the alarms. He stared at Phillip, and the two nodded, setting out with their armies in tow.

The enemy reacted, sending out their armies in great numbers, more numerous than Oscar and Phillip's combined forces. Before long, the airships sent out rippling shots at each other, and Oscar charged at the enemy. Gathering his Eirin, he broke through the first line and trampled many under Erden's hooves, a slight concern in his mind at how the first line seemed much more orientated in defense, delaying him for a moment. However, Oscar realized the enemy's aim as they maneuvered, flanking his troops at the sides, a tactical move.

"Damnit!" Oscar halted, blocking several ranged spells. The weakness of a frontal charge, especially with one of his offensive potency, was the weakness in the sides. It was no wonder the first line happened to be well-versed in defense, stalling him for enough time before the frontal rush could compound and spiral out of their control. Not willing to lose most of his army, Oscar ordered them into a defensive formation. He ran laps around the formation, crushing a few enemies to allow his troops to breathe easier.

…….

"Oscar's been halted. While he may seem horrifying from the front, the sides are not so much." Gavir led his men to join Phillip's army and plunged his spear into a frightened Knight Exalt, casting her aside like a pebble. The enemy had focused many soldiers on Phillip's side while Oscar was kept busy on defense. Riding his steed faster, Gavir skewered a path to Phillip and thrust his spear, deflecting a killing blow. "Are you alright, Lord Raeven?"

"Took you long enough. I was barely hanging on." Phillip grasped the wound on his chest, a gruesome gash from shoulder to hip. Gavir stared intently at the person who inflicted the wound, recognizing them as one of the Ten Winds, Diamen, the Fifth Wind, a Grade Eight Exolsia, and a master of the spear. How admirable that Phillip lasted so long against two foes, the Seventh Wind and the Fifth Wind.

"Diamen of the Fifth Wind, I, Gavir Rudinberg, ask you for a duel to the death. Which of our spears is the strongest?" Gavir pointed his spear toward Diamen, the man in emerald armor and a snake's helmet.

"How short-sighted must you be to request a duel now while your army falls apart? Very well, I'll shatter your spear and let you watch as you're unable to scream from your pierced throat." Diamen pointed to the other side of the battle where Oscar was fighting. "That man will fall first."

"Going for the hardest target despite the norm suggesting otherwise. I don't dislike such radical tactics." Gavir smirked under his helmet.

"Are you not afraid for your precious hero?" Hajen mocked, keeping his long sword at the ready.

"I knew this would happen. You're desperate to bring this battle to a close, so of course, you took this route. But you made one crucial mistake." A fierce explosion of flames roared and rose high, spreading blazing heat and light to the surrounding battle. The two Winds turned in shock as Gavir laughed. "I heard enough tales from my wife and the rumors about his exploits to know your trivial plan will not work. Thank you for focusing on Oscar and exposing yourselves here without backup. As a reward, I'll carve out your heart."