The Exalt Cultivation Fantasy

Act 3: Empire's Stand - Chapter 562: Draven's Past

Decades ago, before the opening of Ashen Grove and the war, when the four empires still had some relations with each other, the Pavilion welcomed its new students, the generation that eventually grew up to become the pillars of the Blue Ocean Pavilion. Rosett Evergold, the proud daughter of the Evergold Family, entered the Pavilion with the highest expectations. Her looks enthralled the gazes of many boys, becoming the first love in most of their hearts, but she scoffed at their advances and sought to become a fabricator, owing to her anima and talent.

Among her peers were Margaret Ward, the future Grand Commander and the other genius from the smaller Ward Family; Robert Levitt, the future Grand Elder and the talented prodigy of the Levitt Family of scholars and ministers akin to the Jones Family; Austell Jones, Robert's rival and future Director of the Record Hall, and Isaac Weiss, the future Cauldron Lord and prodigy of the Weiss Family of alchemists. Everyone came from a prominent background and believed to be their generation's leaders, a position they competed against each other for.

However, one person shattered their pride and left their ego in the dirt—a student of an unknown background who always wore a helmet that covered his face. His name was Draven Ciaran, master of the mythical Kraken anima and the legendary space elemental spark, which shocked everyone when it awoke in his Elite Exalt realm. Rosett first met him sitting idly in the plains, his expression indescribable underneath the helmet.

At that time, no one knew he was the adopted son of the Pavilion Master. So, Draven was subjected to many prying stares, envy thrown from the nobles who could not match up to the assumed commoner, interest from the ones who sought to entice him into their cliques, and admiration from the ones who looked up to him. But as if the world didn't concern him, he lived each day unfettered from the trouble kicking up near his feet.

Rosett's second encounter came much later. They fought each other in the Clash of Metal, the test of fabricators during the Grand Gathering at year's end. At that time, they were merely Apprentice Exalts, but for the first time in her life, she experienced a crushing defeat. The purity of his refinement and the quality of his armament made hers look like a pauper's belongings. The way the light cascaded along the grooved edges, shining in an arc of light, and the Ein pulsing like a heartbeat from the hilt…she could only describe it as an exquisite work of art.

Quickly, she killed her admiration and felt one emotion rising in her heart: frustration. Her anger at her loss couldn't be directed at herself, not with the immaturity of youth, so it all became directed at Draven. But she never had the chance for the rematch next year since Draven attended the Grand Gathering. In that battle, he overpowered Margaret in a brutal combat that placed him as the number one enemy of all her admirers. In the finals, he crushed Robert and claimed first place in the Pavilion.

That was when all the stares at Draven turned to fear. But Rosett never feared him, only seeking him out for revenge. She challenged him constantly, hammering in the forges alongside him and comparing their wares. But every time, she would be frustrated at her loss. Sometimes, they would compete multiple times per day. Every single one ended up in her defeat. It was only a matter of time before all of that rivalry and anger turned into a budding attraction and love.

Draven took up her armament every time she lost and praised it for the work while pointing out the flaws. His words came not from a high place or arrogance but a genuine attempt to help her, an act that struck her heart like an arrow. She found herself staring at him many times during their daily contests, entranced by his form and concentration. Somehow, he had completely captured her heart and attention during all these contests.

He was completely different from the rumors. He was gentle and kind even though his fighting was brutal beyond compare. Even though his helmet hid his expressions, she sometimes understood the clear gaze hidden in the shadow of the visor.

She had admitted she was initially conflicted by her emotions, but those contests soon turned into partnering sessions to create armaments together. Those days in the past were the most memorable and precious memories to her when Draven used to be sane and forged by her side. However, she wasn't the only one. Margaret Ward also sought to surpass Draven, often inviting him to go on missions together, which Rosett hated, first because it took her rival and enemy away, but now because it took away parts of her precious time with Draven. That led to countless spats between the two as they argued endlessly like the lovestruck fools they were.

Though she loved him, she knew little about who he was and where he came from. All the efforts to get him to talk about his parentage, ancestry, and home were shrugged off with a change in topic or pretending not to hear. What an insensitive man. Still, she loved him and yearned to see past his helmet, and was rejected each time with a stern voice. They were close, but a wall divided them. The only information she gathered was that he was an orphan.

Bringing up the topic of his childhood and being an orphan over and over again started to shut him down, and he became less responsive to her, so she stopped pursuing his past.

Over the years, Draven won more competitions and entered the Legacy Hall, which accepted the most prodigal talents who entered the Knight Exalt realm before the age limit of twenty-four. Naturally, Rosett and the other leaders of the young generation entered the Legacy Hall without issue, but no matter what, there remained a chasm between them and Draven, his talent and battle prowess far surpassing them.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

During that time, they participated in the competition between the four empires, and it was here that the intrusive Diane grew attracted to Draven, another rival for their mini-war for his affection. It was quite strange that Diane chased after Dravena after the latter punched her severely in the face, but they seemed to have an encounter in the small realm excursion.

Suddenly, he withdrew from the public eye. He still went on missions with the others and forged in the Foundry, but he seldom stepped out into competitions and public events. As it turned out, Draven had gotten close to a woman who just made it to the Inner Hall, a move that shocked the elders and his peers. Rosett felt her heart in agony at seeing the two close. The woman was Tasha, a simple commoner and a mere Grade Four Exolsia.

Everyone feared him. Everyone felt inadequate compared to him. But no one expected him to fall for such an ordinary woman, disregarding all the others in his generation. Rosett and Margaret grew closer during that time, sharing in their sorrows of having lost, but their lingering emotions wouldn't let them quit. However, Draven seemed to be different around her, something he never showed to them.

That was when the tragedy struck.

To be so powerful meant drawing people's fears, awe, and hatred. One of their generation, a man named Harrin, descended from the noble Williams Family, grew jealous of Draven's success and sought to keep him under his control. But since Draven had no known family and everyone around him were other prodigies of famous families he could not touch, he had no way to force Draven. His chance arrived when Tasha's existence became known.

What followed was the darkest day in their generation. Harrin gathered his followers and departed toward where Tasha was on a mission. He kidnapped her, threatened Draven to come over, and ordered him to obey or else. Draven stood there alone against fifty. Was it an accident or not? Who broke the stalemate first? No one knows except for Draven, who massacred everyone and returned with Tasha's body, covered in days-old blood.

He angered so many noble families, and everyone pointed fingers at him, calling out for his execution. Rosett went to the trial for Draven's massacre of other students, but the story had been twisted into him killing everyone, including Tasha. Then, the Pavilion Master finally appeared and said Draven was his adopted son. However, that only abated the nobles' cries for execution as they pivoted toward a lighter sentence of imprisonment in the Abyss Prison.

The Pavilion Master controlled everything, but in those times, the nobles had a good sway in some affairs. The lack of evidence and witnesses, except for the few recordings of Draven brutally slaughtering the others, only cemented his fate of imprisonment. Letting him go after such an act would be the downfall of their justice system and seen as nepotism by the Pavilion Master. Thus, with a heavy heart, the Pavilion Master sentenced Draven to be imprisoned. Rosett never forgot the look he gave his adopted father, a seething hatred buried in those dark visors.

When that happened, Margaret, Robert, and Rosett vowed to change the system. And they made great progress since then. The nobles' sway on the Pavilion loosened as they treated everyone the same as a student.

Then, inside the Abyss Prison, he somehow learned the ways of Reis and escaped his bindings, and the Pavilion Master ordered him to bring victory to the Pavilion in the next meeting of the four empires. But what happened there should have never been. Draven slaughtered nearly everyone there, rivers of blood flowing under his feet, causing an outcry from the other three empires who wished for his head. The Pavilion Master had to pay severe compensation to each empire. He hastily promoted Draven to the Warden of the Abyss Prison to work for the Pavilion and remain a prisoner in its waters.

…….

"Then, he lived there for decades, never coming out until he met you." Aunt Rosett's voice trailed off, clearly drained after retelling the accounts of the past. Coughing, she sighed, "I never knew the exact details about how Draven and Tasha met and why he blamed the Pavilion Master not just for the betrayal but also for her death. He shouted out during the trial that the Pavilion Master was equally responsible for her death and that he would kill him as well. You can imagine how well that went for his case."

"Is that something only the Pavilion Master and Master knows?" Oscar asked.

"Most likely." Aunt Rosett chuckled weakly, then broke out into laughter, faint tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. A truly saddened laugh. She seemed very tired, listlessly staring as the moon reflected off her pupils. "I thought perhaps after Tasha died that I could take the spot by his side, but he only delved into further madness. Until you came."

"Why me?" Oscar always wondered.

She tenderly stroked his head. "I think it's because you're like him and Tasha. Thrown into prison for fighting for your friends like him and a Grade Four Exolsia like her. Maybe it was on a whim he took you in, but something in him stirred while training you."

Oscar wanted to speak more, but a terrifying voice called out, "Get out."

Draven strode into the balcony and said coldly, "Return to your quarters, now." His stance showed how prepared he was to fight. Indeed, not a single hint of gentleness existed between him and Aunt Rosett. Her face fell darker from his response, and she left without saying a word, a lonely trek out that made Oscar want to go out and accompany her, but a look from his master froze his steps.

"Disciple."

"Yes, master?"

A deep silence fell between the two. A slight breeze filled the gap between them. Draven clasped his shoulder and said, "Don't be like me. Don't ever be like me. Live freely and live happily." With those last few words, his master disappeared, vanishing into empty space.

Oscar stared in the spot where his master once stood and bowed as the two suns began to ascend, lighting up the dark balcony. As a disciple, he wanted his master to be proud and happy, but the heart seemed to have died out a long time ago, resigned to its fate of madness and perpetual grief. What could he do for him?

His thoughts had to be tossed aside. Horns sounded in the halls of the fortress, and a voice boomed over the entire Excrusier, "We have arrived! Wyrmir is approaching!"