Underland Chronicles II Book 1: The Warrior's Legacy

You. Yes, you.

I know you came to look at this story and you don't really like it because of Gregor's absence in this story. I know many fans out there are fans of Gluxa. And I'm sorry if this story can't help to fulfil that gap in your heart that you felt at the end of Code of Claw. Trust me, I felt the same. I was dissatisfied with the ending of Code of Claw and I wanted to see Gregor return. But this story here is supposed to build up to Gregor's return in my next story. But I'll only write that story if I know enough people can appreciate this story.

This is my first fanfic. It's a new experience for me. I need encouragement along the way. I'm not asking you to follow this story, or favourite it. I just want reviews. Because I would love to improve as a writer. But if you notice, as every chapter passes, I'm not getting enough reviews. And it's hurting me.

Only YOU can help me. Please, it has come to a point when I feel lonely writing this story. Don't make too quick a judgement based on just this first chapter of my story. If you have something negative to say, then by all means say it.

I hope you enjoy my story. It has been a tough time for me, which is why I have changed this introduction from its original one. Calvin may not be the hero you all deserve, but he is the one you need right now.

Chapter 1: Calvin Oberton

Calvin stared at the metropolis that was New York City from his vantage point. He was situated on the top of his late father's company building, the Oberton Complex. One of the newest additions to New York City's skyscrapers, it towered above most buildings in a 1-mile radius, with buildings such as 40 Wall Street being dwarfed by its size.

The skyline was beautiful, but Calvin paid no attention to that. He was only thinking of one thing: his father. Calvin's mother had passed away when he was 8, and while he was devastated by the loss, he never truly cared as much for her as he did for his father. She had passed away from illness; while you could not avenge your mother's death against cancer, you certainly could against the men who had killed his father.

According to his mentor, Mr Carter, his father had been tracked down and assassinated for unknown reasons. Some rumours were that the company's rivals, Zephyr, had ordered his assassination; others rumours claimed it was a family feud. Nobody knew for sure, because the policemen themselves were confounded by such a case. All suspects had alibis, and there really wasn't any other links.

However, Calvin couldn't care less. He had loss the guiding light in his life, the loving father who had showered privileges on him while teaching him so many important life lessons. Calvin was not devastated. He wasn't. the word devastated could not convey the agony that Calvin went through after his father's death. He swore to himself at his father's funeral, that he would gain vengeance and bring pride to his father's name. He had so much money that he didn't even need to work anymore for the rest of his life, but he would have traded all that money just to have his father back.

He was a broken teenage boy, and no amount of consoling from friends or money bestowed upon him would mend him.

Ever since his father's death, he had become a more secluded person. His friends in school tried to interact with him more, but he absolutely refused to open up. He had held back the tears or the cries of sorrow until he was home, with his kindly caretaker Bennett. There, he would sob and sob away as he felt his heart crumble, only for him to build up a barrier again the next day.

This routine was wearing him out. He could feel it. But he soldiered on, as he knew that was what his father would have wanted. He fancied himself pretty good-looking too, as girls in school would approach him and shyly ask him to go out for lunch. He thought dates would help to heal his heart, but they only antagonized his short temper instead. He had sent a girl home crying countless times, but he truly, truly did not care. They had no idea how it was like to deal with the death of a loved one.

He decided to stop feeling sorry for himself, and made his way down the building towards the street, before performing his usual Saturday routine of watching out for innocent people down alleyways. Mr Carter told him that his father was constantly striving to protect the weak and the innocent, and that was why Calvin sought to do the same. Ironically, it was down one of these alleyways where his father was killed. He ignored that thought, and forged ahead when he heard a cry for help. He rounded the corner and saw two men attempting to rob a young lady in her 20s.

Calvin sauntered up to the robbers slowly, and tapped one of the robbers on the shoulder. The robber whirled around and found Calvin's fist crunch into his face. Calvin then blocked a strike from the other robber, and reacted quickly to duck a swipe from the robber's knife. He backed up quickly, recalling what Mr Carter had told him. Use the momentum of the person's charge to trip him, Calvin remembered. The robber charged at him brandishing another knife, but Calvin cooly sidestepped the attack and stuck out a foot, sending the robber sprawling. He then stomped on the robber's wrist, causing the robber to let go of the knife with a yelp of pain.

He then proceeded to stomp on the robber's wrist, causing the robber to let go of the other knife with another yelp of pain. Just as Calvin kicked the knives away from the robber, he felt a knife pressed against his throat. He sighed to himself. He had carelessly forgotten about the other robber. The robber snarled against his ear, " Kid, you better drag your sorry ass back to Daddy, cos' you ain't…"

At the mention of the word "Daddy", Calvin lost his cool. He swung his head backwards, smashing into the robber's nose, before gripping his wrist and twisting it, leading to the robber crying out involuntarily. He then leaned forward, pulling the robber's arm at the same time. He then dropped his shoulder, flipping the robber unceremoniously onto the ground. It was frankly a clumsily executed move, but it had served its purpose. While the robber was lying on the ground, gasping in shock, Calvin yanked him to his feet, and kneed him in the groin, before finishing the robber off with a solid right hook. The robber crumpled to the ground in pain. Calvin had regained his cool, but he couldn't resist replying coldly. "I have no Daddy, and you'll never be one," he snarled.

He heard the sound of familiar footsteps behind him, followed by the familiar clearing of a man's throat. " We need to work on your flipping." Mr Carter stated simply.

Calvin nodded in agreement. He turned around to check on the woman, but she was long gone. "She should have stayed back to thank me," Calvin grumbled unhappily.

Mr Carter, quickly cuffed the robbers, before replying, "You can't blame her. Most people would have taken to their heels given the chance to escape a situation such as this. Let's go back home and leave these scumbags here for the policemen. I'm revising the rat and bat anatomy with you today."

Mr Melvin Carter was a British immigrant, and had been staying in America for 16 years. He was about a good 6 feet tall, and weighed a solid 185 pounds. He was somewhere between his 40s and 50s, Calvin couldn't quite tell. He originally had a rich, smooth and cultured British accent, which he complained was badly affected by years living in America, with his "great voice suffering from the perversion of this damn American slang".

He had come to meet Calvin's father through a friend, or so he claimed. Calvin suspected it had something to do with his father's shipping business charging higher prices, and Mr Carter had been one of those men who stood up against his father. However, they became good friends in the end, and Mr Carter even became Calvin's godfather. He was a jack of all trades. he could simply perform any task set for him. He was like a walking encyclopedia, armed with tricks and skills. Calvin had never known a better teacher than him. He was simply phenomenal, and Calvin had a great amount of respect and love for him.

After his father's death, he had assumed the role as Calvin's mentor, while Mr Bennett had become the father figure for him. Evidently, his father had entrusted Mr Carter with the job of educating his son after his death, a role that Mr Carter had taken with great relish. What Calvin found unusual, was the topics he was taught. Apart from the basic knowledge acquired from school and Mr Carter regarding subjects like Mathematics and Literature, he was also taught about insect, rat,bat, and even fox anatomies, and where to land the crucial killer blows to these animals. Furthermore, he was taught how to use a sword to fight animals such as rats his size.

He was forced to take this seriously, even though he could never imagine himself attempting to use such a specific method to killing these animals. They were bloody small creatures! He would never need to fight rats his size, since that was clearly impossible. And what was up with foxes? There were no foxes in New York City, let alone massive 8 foot ones. Whenever he questioned Mr Carter's decision to learn about this… rubbish, Mr Carter would stare at Calvin with a slight twinkle in his eye, and ask Calvin to trust him.

And Calvin did. Apart from Mr Bennett, he was the person Calvin trusted most. However, the weird thing was that Mr Bennett never questioned those seemingly ridiculous lessons. Occasionally, he would stop by to listen for a while, a knowing look in his eyes. There was something those two men knew that Calvin didn't, and Calvin was adamant that he would find out why soon. He had been taught by Mr Carter for 5 years now, and he was 15 years old. Surely they could entrust him a secret, no matter how big it was!

Moreover, he was taught how to shoot a gun, how to engage in hand-to-hand combat, and how to barter or negotiate. This was a very specific skillset, and Calvin had soon realised after about 1 year of learning that this was a skillset meant for secret agents that worked for organizations such as MI6 and the CIA, bar the weird animal lessons.

He was sure that most of these lessons were taught by Mr Carter because of his father's death. He had a sinking feeling that Mr Carter knew the true reasons behind his father's death, and if Mr Carter was trying to prevent Calvin from learning about it, then Calvin would never know the true reasons behind his father's death, as Mr Carter would protect a secret to the end of his life. Nevertheless, Calvin put all his effort into learning as much as possible from Mr Carter's lessons. Once again, he had a sinking feeling that he would need to use these skills to protect his own life.

Once Calvin reached home, he headed up to his father's room. Often, when Calvin was feeling down, he would enter his father's room and examine his father's completed and unfinished work. In a sense, it was the only way he could connect with his father. However, what intrigued him most was a safe, locked, and according to Mr Carter, "heavily armed". Calvin hypothesized that all the answers to the unanswered questions about his father's life and death lay inside that safe. He swore that one day, and hopefully the time was coming, that he would open up that safe and find out all he needed to know. Calvin turned his attention back to his father's desk. He understood most of the dealings that went on in the corporate world, so he had no problem reading some of the letters on his father's desk.

However, there was one letter that left Calvin utterly confused. It was a letter addressed to him by a man named Vikus, and it was written in the most unusual handwriting Calvin had ever seen in his life. It went something like this:

Dear Richard Oberton,

Thank you for all you have done for our city. We are saddened to hear from Ripred about the decision you have made, but we accept it. I just want you to know that my city is extremely grateful for the service that you have provided, and we have already taken measures to do your bidding. A storm is coming, Mr Oberton, and I believe that the chances of any of us coming away from this unscathed. However, the strongest weapon in our hands now is not a gun, nor a sword, nor a claw. That strongest weapon is hope. And I hope that before your final moments, that you will have that hope deep in your heart. We all carry the hope of a better age.

Yours truly,

Vikus

Calvin frowned after reading this for the umpteenth time. What kind of message was this? Who was Vikus? What city was he talking about? Who was Ripred? What service had his father done? Why was Vikus so grateful? What was his father's "bidding"? What the hell did Vikus mean by "a storm is coming"? Calvin was so frustrated by all these questions that he snapped out loud, "Who the hell has a name like Ripred?"

"Someone who has an honourable heart," came the reply from behind him. Calvin turned around to see Mr Carter leaning against the doorway, staring at Calvin.

Calvin threw his hands up in frustration. "That still doesn't answer the bloody question! Does that mean that all honourable people have a name like Ripred?" Calvin retorted.

"Perhaps you will have the answer to that question soon, if you stop whining like a little boy and act on your current situation. Now, lessons are about to start. When you are done bawling, you can head to the study and get ready for the lesson," Mr Carter answered coldly, before leaving the room. Calvin was shocked by the response of Mr Carter. Mr Carter rarely spoke in this manner. He would either explode in fury, or remain cool and calm. Never had he seen Mr Carter so cold before. He must have hit a nerve. But what had Calvin said wrongly? Shaking his head, he got up and made his way to the study, his mind buzzing with questions.

Calvin headed out of the study towards the physical training area after his lessons with Mr Carter. Thanks to his inherited wealth, he had all the resources he needed in order to train, and he wasn't going to take this situation for granted. He had the opportunity, and this was his chance to take it. He picked up a dagger, and practised his killer strokes on a dummy. He then switched to using the Beretta M9, a semiautomatic pistol, in one hand, and a flintlock pistol in the other.

He was still rather unfamiliar with the use of a gun in each hand, but he still practised shooting two separate targets with the guns. Once he was done, he then proceeded to work on his sword fighting skills. Mr Carter was rather particular about his finesse with the blade, as he claimed, "Every good gentleman must be adept with the blade. And fencing has always been a gentleman's sport." Calvin preferred to grip his weapon with both hands rather than with one hand, which was often seen in fencing competitions. But it didn't matter to him. All he needed to learn was how to use a sword in order to defend himself.

He was midway through attacking another dummy when he heard a squeak. He ignored it was not fond of rats, but he didn't feel the need to attack them. Then he heard another squeak. Then another. Then another. He was started to feel irritated. After a few more minutes of squeaking, he shouted, "Cut it out!" There was a sudden silence, before a multitude of different squeaks, shrieks and high-pitched whistles came round. Calvin remembered Mr Carter's advice: Never lose your temper unnecessarily. In fact, never lose your temper. Trust me, it will be your downfall. So Calvin endured the noise. However, the noise steadily increased, and Calvin finally lost his temper. He spun around, his sword flashing in his hand. And then his eyes widened in disbelief and shock.

Staring quietly at him was at least a hundred rats.

There you have it, my first chapter. I sincerely hope you review it, so I may improve as a writer. Reviews are what keep me going and let me feel appreciated at least. So even if you are a guest, please just write a few words. It would be a massive boost for me. Thank you all!