Hello everyone! Hope your week has been fine. Sorry I took a week to iron things out and get this chapter up. My life is as hectic as hell at the moment and the pressure isn't lifting up. So do bear with my inconsistent updating. But anyway, a HUGE thank you to the following people who reviewed my story: Spywo1, A happy reader, TheGreatAthlon5(read your reveiws on my other stories. I love your constructive feedback and I really appreciate it), HumanicHedgeHog, shadowofdarkness, FierceDeity24, Clytuis, Alpha Death, MarbleSKy, Ssi'ruuk, pyro159 and Randonfire. You guys reviewed my previous stories and I'm glad to see y'all back at it again. Thank you to MyNamesGorger, DeathIcronix, Afly520 and SlyIntellect, for reviewing my story. I hope to see each and every one of you as my story progresses, it would really be super awesome if you guys could continue to help me to improve my story and encourage me down this final path.

As per usual, this is just a gentle reminder that if you are new to this series, please read The Warrior's Legacy and Regalian Bloodbath first before reading this story. It'll help to lend some context to certain situations. I hope you enjoy chapter 2. We're really getting rolling now!

This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.


Chapter 2: Mr Oberton

And he laughed.

"Billionaire playboy? I never expected The Economist to portray me as some kind of sex symbol at the ripe old age of 18," Calvin replied as suavely as he could, despite how out of place it sounded for someone his age.

"You have already been described as such by Bloomberg, Mr Oberton. It should not be much of a surprise that people are beginning to label you as an attractive young bachelor," the interviewer, a fairly pretty lady in her late thirties, explained.

"In which case I'm very flattered, but I'd prefer to just be known as Calvin Oberton. Not as the billionaire or as the playboy," he responded with a forced smile, trying not to sound flustered or nervous.

Calvin was very poor at matching a name to a face, so he decided he would settle for not addressing the interviewer by name at all if he could help it. Or the transcript would be teeming with awkward pauses and would make a fool out of him, which was going to become especially embarrassing now that media scrutiny on him had intensified. He was, after all, the son of Richard Oberton. And now that his eighteenth birthday had passed, he owned a majority of the shares in his father's company and had been pretty much catapulted into the limelight.

This was his third interview this month, following a quick discussion with Forbes over the phone and a meeting with The Financial Times. It seemed as if everybody was suddenly obsessed with the sheer amount of wealth he had at his disposal as someone who had just turned eighteen. Inheriting his father's wealth had resulted in him smashing records like there was no tomorrow. Everybody wanted to run the article of having interviewed the world's youngest billionaire.

To be honest, it wasn't attention that Calvin was particularly clamouring for.

He had no idea what kind of front to put up for the world to see. Billionaire playboy? No, that never worked out. Humble young man? Not quite his style. How about your average billionaire? Was there ever an average billionaire? Was he supposed to behave like a person his age or someone much more mature? Debonair or rugged? Posh or modest? Complicated or simple? Ruthless or kind? Who was he supposed to be?

"Well, Mr Oberton, you are right that you're not just well-known for your looks. Many people are lauding your efforts to improve education in Zimbabwe and Zambia. What motivated you to embark on such a project?" the interviewer asked him, sounding uncharacteristically tame. Calvin had become too used to aggressive interviewers who pushed him hard for details on his personal life. Not this time, though.

"My father used to tell me that the world wasn't as beautiful to others as it was to me. Coming from my background, I'd only seen the nice face of this planet and not the less pleasant side of it. I was taught that there were children my age who didn't have even half of half of half of what I had. And as I grew up, I began to understand that my father intended to teach me that having been blessed with so much, it was my duty to pay society back. To give back to those in need. And there is no meaning in hoarding all this wealth when I have the power to spread some cheer on a little girl's face when she can go to school," Calvin answered genuinely.

The interviewer actually looked touched. "Wow," she breathed, "That is very inspiring, Mr Oberton. That being said, you do have critics and detractors who label you a hypocrite for accusing the CEO of Zephyr, Mr C.P. Oswald, of violating human rights in China and worker rights here in New York. They claim that you are trying to bring down a rival company in order to generate more revenue in the shipping business. What do you have to say to such allegations?"

Calvin had rehearsed this bit before. With the spotlight falling even more on this court case following Calvin's rise to fame, Calvin needed to send out a strong statement or he would be seen as weak-willed and way too hesitant to be taken seriously. "I'm not sure what these critics are trying to say," he began slowly, "Because they do sound very crude and uninformed to me. Are they trying to say that somehow I am not justified in telling the world that Mr Oswald's company is rife with disgusting violations of worker rights just because we are rival companies? Are they saying that I should have tried to hush this up? Because in my opinion, I have a duty to report such problems should they come to my attention."

"And how DID they come to your attention, Mr Oberton?" the interviewer asked, sounding simultaneously blunt and innocent.

"Does that really matter?" Calvin countered, "For me it doesn't, but if the world really wants to know, it has been divulged before. A few members of Zephyr, managing directors and workers included, who have transferred over to my company informed me of these details. For the sake of protecting their identities, I intend not to disclose their names."

"Some see this as a scheme to establish a monopoly of the business," the interviewer said tentatively, as if she was afraid of offending him.

"That is absurd and bordering on defamation," Calvin replied as coolly and calmly as possible, "I have been a firm believer in protecting worker rights and anybody who labels this as hypocrisy clearly does not understand the definition of hypocrisy. I have never ever felt such a compelling urge to act against someone, but in this case my conscience cannot rest until due process has been carried out for Mr Oswald."

The strength and conviction in his words surprised even himself. The interviewer looked like she had been taken aback slightly, before she recovered and said, "I do think we have to end on this note today, Mr Oberton. It was a real pleasure to have this discussion with you, and The Economist will send over the article for you to vet and approve before we publish it. Once again, thank you for having this interview, especially in this lovely home of yours."

"You're very welcome," Calvin answered with a warm smile. He then opened the door and gestured for Mr Bennett to lead her out. "Perhaps we can have another discussion over coffee some time from now," he offered politely.

She responded with a surprisingly gentle smile, before saying, "That sounds great. You have my number. We'll see if we can arrange something."

Mr Bennett then led her out of the mansion, as Calvin strode back into the living room, before promptly slumping down on the sofa. He didn't know how long he could keep the facade up. He really didn't.

He was lost. There were no other words to describe his situation. For the first time in his whole life, he felt lost and alone. The mentors he once had- his father, Mr Carter, Lapblood and Gregor… they were all no longer part of his life. And now that they were gone, Calvin had no idea how to proceed from here. He didn't know whether to take up that offer to go to Brown. Or was Yale better? Maybe he should stay local in NYU…

"GOD DAMN IT!" he yelled as hard as he could, slamming his fist down on the coffee table in front of him. It promptly collapsed and broke, with the drinks on the table spilling out all over the carpet. He fumbled around feebly for the tissue box, but deep down he knew that wasn't what he was looking for.

He was looking for a purpose in right now, he had nothing.

It was as if his body was a hollow shell with the burning embers of hope and justice starting to fade away. It was so difficult to accept a life of mediocrity, even if being a billionaire was far from being mediocre. The exposure to all the fighting, all the politics and all the tragedies… they scarred you for life, but ironically left you longing for more of the same. All the money in the world couldn't buy Calvin a purpose in life, nor could it buy him any happiness. Even with so much power at his disposal, he felt powerless.

"I assume you'll want me to clean that up, Master Calvin," Mr Bennett said as he stepped into the room, surveying the mess that Calvin had made.

"Did the journalist hear any of it?" Calvin asked Mr Bennett in a tone devoid of any emotion as he stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

"You were very lucky, Master Calvin. She had just left the mansion. Had she heard you, I highly doubt that you would find the time to have coffee with her," Mr Bennett told him, almost as if he was reprimanding Calvin.

"That doesn't matter to me," Calvin grunted, "You know it doesn't. And you also know that I don't like you to call me Master Calvin. You've always called me Calvin before I turned eighteen."

"I used to address your father as such when he was an adult," Mr Bennett pointed out, "Now that you are an adult as well, I do feel it is time for me to address you by your proper title. You ARE the master of this house."

"I still call you Mr Bennett," Calvin replied, "And you're still my caretaker, not my butler."

"Please Master Calvin," Mr Bennett said, rolling his eyes, "We all know that I AM your butler. Your father didn't want you to develop a sense of entitlement, which is why he calls me a caretaker. And as for the way you address me, I'm starting to think it's time for you to address me by my first name."

"It wouldn't be the same," Calvin responded, "Too many things have changed in my life, and calling you Mr Bennett is one of the last remnants of my childhood."

"With all due respect master Calvin," Mr Bennett interjected politely, "You didn't have much of a childhood to begin with. Not many children are embroiled in the middle of a war at the age of fifteen. And things will change. I'm afraid that's inevitable. You're going to have to accept that you're an adult."

"That's the problem." Calvin sighed as he buried his face in his hands, "I'm grown-up now. And I just don't have any damn time to do anything I want. I was supposed to visit Zambia last month to oversee the programme. But I've got too much work on my hands and too little time. There are children there who need me, Mr Bennett. And I can't go there because Forbes wants to ask me what I'm going to do with the Oberton Trust Fund."

"They don't need you there anymore, Master Calvin," Mr Bennett said gently, "They need you here to continue your father's legacy. You have thousands of employees working in the Oberton Complex alone. They haven't had real leadership in years since your father has left. It's riddled with corruption and people need you to set things right the way your father would have done it. You can't skirt your responsibilities Master Calvin, even if you wanted to."

"To hell with my father's legacy," Calvin cursed, "I've spent enough time in the Underland to know that a legacy can crush you. I am NOT my father. I don't owe them what my father owed them just because I am his son. I didn't spend all my damn time in the Underland trying to run away from fate just to get caught by it again, Mr Bennett."

"I feel sorry for you, Calvin," Mr Bennett said, "I really do. You've seen things and done things that no child on this planet would ever do. You've lost the two most important people of your life before you were eleven. I can't even imagine what it must feel to be like you. But it can't be helped. You have no choice but to accept your situation."

"That's exactly what Gregor used to say," Calvin growled, "And he got it completely wrong. I am Calvin Oberton the Overlander, not Calvin Oberton, the son of Richard Oberton."

"I thought you'd have let go of the Underland already," Mr Bennett said darkly.

Calvin looked up into Mr Bennett's eyes and said, "You never let it go. Ever."

"I let you go down there because I respected your father, not because I agreed with him," Mr Bennett said harshly, "If he could see the person you have become today, I do believe he wouldn't have pushed you down this path."

"HE DIDN'T PUSH ME DOWN ANYTHING!" Calvin snapped back, "It was MY CHOICE."

"No, it wasn't," Mr Bennett said sadly, "Choosing to go to Princeton or Yale or Brown is your choice. But a boy your age never willingly chooses to enter a bloody war."

"So this is what it has come to?" Calvin said furiously, "You're going to insult me and expect to get away with it?"

"I never ever intended to insult you," Mr Bennett replied immediately, "I'm just trying to remind you that your days as a child are over. You can't be reckless anymore because other people's lives depend on it. There are people who need you to take up your responsibilities as a leader. And that means thinking about your own education, not a child in Zambia who is already a beneficiary of your money."

"The company doesn't need me and I don't want to lead it," Calvin said frustratedly, "I just own shares in it and I'm happy with it that way. I'll get someone else to run it and I'll use the money earned from it to continue my charity work. I'm not blowing four years of my life in college just to get a degree and run this freaking company."

"Did you not hear what I said earlier, Master Calvin?" Mr Bennett said with equal frustration as Calvin, "Oberton is overrun with corruption. Workers are being retrenched in order for favours to be exchanged. People undeserving of high-ranking positions are climbing up the ladder and soon you'll be thrown out by them. It's a cut-throat world and I'm sorry that you don't understand that yet, but it's time for you to accept the reality of the situation! You have to stop lying to yourself."

"Fine," Calvin said, throwing his arms into the air in anger, "I'll sell this company to someone who can take control of it and run it well. But I am not plunging my hands into the filth. I'm not getting a college degree so that I have a more legitimate claim to the throne of this bloody company. And you can go work for that person if you so wish. At least I won't have to listen to your bullshit anymore!"

"MASTER CALVIN!" Mr Bennett bellowed, seething with fury.

Calvin took a step back in shock. He had never ever seen Mr Bennett raise his voice to such a degree. His old caretaker was simmering with rage at the moment, and despite Calvin's impulse to respond sarcastically, he held back. Now wasn't the time to stoke the roaring flames.

"I'll clean your mess up," Mr Bennett said quietly as his face morphed into the very personification of anger, "But stay out of my way."

Calvin sullenly shuffled out of the room, but not before Mr Bennett called out to him, "When you've pondered and reflected over your words a bit more, I suggest you decide what you want to do with your life. The invitation to Yale won't wait for you forever."

Calvin could just about hear Mr Bennett cursing him under his breath and calling him a disgrace as he ambled about the room cleaning up the coffee table and the spilt drinks. Calvin's heart felt a sharp thud as if someone had just thrown a dart straight down his throat. He betrayed no sign of any emotions, but deep down Mr Bennett's words hurt more than all the scars he bore from the battles in the Underland.

Calvin made his way into his own room and took off his tuxedo which he had especially worn for the interview. He then stripped his shirt off and stared at himself in the mirror.

The physical state of his body had somewhat deteriorated over the past two years. A sudden and very unexpected degree of sloth had gripped him, and he hadn't worked out in months. Not that he gorged himself on food, but if you didn't exercise, then obviously you'd be in bad shape. His hair had grown quite long, and without the hair gel, would have looked worse than a crow's nest. His face looked slightly haggard, worn down by the years of misery, suffering, tragedy and depression. No wonder some called him mature. Apparently he looked the way he behaved in public. There was nothing mature about the way he had spoken to Mr Bennett earlier.

He had to fight down a couple of tears when he thought about his argument with Mr Bennett. He never wanted to let anyone down, especially not the person who was the closest thing to family he had left. But he had lost his cool. Calvin rarely described himself as petulant or bad-tempered, but in this case there really was no other adjective to describe him.

Now the only people he could talk to were the ghosts of his past. Calvin thought he felt a cold, wrinkled hand rest on his shoulder. When he turned around to take a look, he thought he saw the dim outline of Vikus slowly fading away.

Vikus was the ghost who haunted Calvin the most.

He could still see the whole thing, and he did see the whole scene every night in his darkest dreams. Vikus calmly looking ahead as the bullet penetrated his skin and flew through his body. Calvin dropping his gun in shock as Vikus' body slumped forward and hit the ground. He looked so serene, as if he had been finally liberated from the cruel world which had been kept together because of him. Calvin could totally visualise Vikus' body floating down a river with that look of calm surrender on his face.

Calvin reached out with his left arm and brushed his fingers against the scar which was now just as much a part of his body as his eyes and ears. He could still remember the searing pain as the jaws clamped down on his shoulder. He winced slightly as his memory was jolted slightly from the agony.

"Hope." Calvin heard the words echo around the room, and the atmosphere instantly became tense beyond words. Calvin's eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of the perpetrators, but there was none. It was just his imagination. A figment of his imagination. A figment of Vikus.

Calvin shook his head and threw on a t-shirt, before changing into jeans. He grabbed a sweater and slipped into it. Putting on a pair of sunglasses so that he wouldn't be recognised in public, he made his way to the door and put on a pair of sneakers, before entering the bright New York sunshine.

As he strode down the street, he thought about the years that had gone by since he left the Underland. First was the break-up with Samantha. She just couldn't see the relationship working, considering how Calvin mysteriously disappeared for weeks without telling anyone. Calvin then had a fierce argument with her and promptly offended her in the process. This was followed by his poor academic results over the next few months. Sure, he was able to pull through in the last moment and garner a decent grade point average. But that was just about his only success. His fame was not built up by his reputation, but by his father's achievement. All that media blitz had nothing to do with his efforts. And all that media attention was probably a major factor behind his offers for the various colleges.

Calvin saw a couple of suspicious-looking men dressed in black staring at him, as his hand instantly went for his pocket to grab his gun. As he groped about his pocket, he soon realised that he had given them away a long while ago. He looked back at the men in black, but they were just having their own private discussions now.

The Underland had made him paranoid beyond basic caution. Ever since he had left the Underland, his instinctive reaction to possible threats meant a quick movement towards his pocket. These threats ranged from well-dressed men to baby puppies to dingy old Fords. Calvin couldn't trust the world he was living in anymore. He couldn't live in a world which was too safe.

And therein lay his ambivalence towards war. Calvin, on the surface, detested fighting and abhorred any society in which war and death had become second nature. Basically, he violently opposed the Underland's way of dealing with problems. But deep down, the primal hunger for blood and battle lingered on, because the truth of the matter was that he was innately a violent person. He could keep lying to himself, but it wouldn't solve anything. As much as he declared himself unfit for a life in the Underland, he was now struggling to live the mundane life back in the Overland.

Calvin knew he wasn't anybody's typical hero or champion. Neither was Gregor for that matter, or his father. In fact, few people were. They all had cardinal sins, flaws which could undermine everything they stood for. And yet people still looked up to them, like they expected these heroes to become gods and rescue them from their plight of suffering. That was almost never the case. Historical narratives and fictional stories could paint protagonists as good men and women, but in reality nobody truly was a good person.

The sun in the sky began to fade behind the imposing, ominous clouds as the city of New York began to darken. Perhaps this was fate's way of toying with Calvin's reality. The stormy, sinister clouds provided a perfect backdrop and setting for Calvin's visit to the cemetery.

The winds swirled around his feet and leaves fluttered about the place, being tossed around like ragged dolls by the fierce, billowing gales. Mourners in black were beginning to leave the cemetery, as if the graves of their loved ones coupled with the darkness of the skies was too much to handle for them. Calvin suspected his father had chosen to be buried in this simple cemetery so he would be as close to his son as possible, even when separated by the veil of death.

The air was surprisingly crisp and refreshing, something which Calvin actually appreciated considering the heat of his conversation with Mr Bennett. He stopped in front of his parents' graves and just stared.

It had been eight long years since his father passed away and a decade since his mother had succumbed to her illness. Calvin had been an orphan for eight years. Granted he was a rich orphan, but that didn't make the pain hurt any less. And now, standing in front of the graves of the two people he once loved the most, he felt more vulnerable than ever.

As he felt sorrow and pain clench their fingers around his heart, he spoke up in a hoarse voice, "I don't… I don't know what to do anymore. All I ever wanted to do was to make the both of you proud, but I don't even know how to do that anymore. I can't find any purpose or meaning in what I am doing. I'm just going through the motions now."

He sighed before continuing, "I can't trust anyone anymore, because I have no one to trust. There's no more you guys, no more Mr Carter, no more Ripred, no more Lapblood and no more Gregor. I've never ever felt so alone in my life and I don't know what to do about it. I don't want to go to Princeton or Yale or Brown or NYU. I don't want to go to any of these places. I don't want to lead Oberton, Dad. I want to be free of all these burdens and responsibilities and to do what I feel is the right thing to do."

He gulped hard and then continued, "I want to make a child in Africa smile. I want to see workers cheer when their rights are restored to them by Zephyr. Hell, I'd rather go back down there and fight a war to save the Underland. But instead, all I can do is to stand on the sidelines and watch the kid in Africa suffer, the workers continue to be abused by Oswald and the Underland obliterated by Operation Claw."

By now, tears were forming in his eyes as the winds became fiercer and howled around him. He croaked out, "Dad, you once wrote to me that it was only through surviving the darkest of nights that we were able to see the brightest of dawns. I've gone through the dark nights, Dad, I swear I have. And yet here I am, talking to your grave in almost complete darkness. Why? Why did it have to be this way? Why am I suffering so much? Why am I so lost? Why am I so alone? Millions of people envy my current position, so why am I feeling so afraid?"

The first few tears had begun to trickle down his cheeks. Calvin couldn't hold back anymore. "WHY?" he screamed out loud, frightening a couple of pigeons into taking flight, "I'm not an army! I'm an eighteen-year-old boy! You want me to serve the freaking Underland? I FREAKING DID IT! I saved the whole bloody place and it's still going to be destroyed. I come up here to run away from my demons down there and now I have to watch people in the press take a freaking piss on me!"

Now, the tears were freely cascading down his face. "IT WAS JUST TO MAKE YOU PROUD!" Calvin yelled, "I DID ALL OF THIS BECAUSE I LOVED THE BOTH OF YOU!"

Then he realised what was happening. The skies thundered and big drops of rain hammered the city, pounding its streets with splashes of water. He looked up to the sky. This was just a repeat of his conversation with Mr Bennett. He was just screaming at a wall. None of them could do anything. Not Mr Bennett, not his mother and not his father.

Calvin didn't know whether his face was wet from the rain or tears anymore. He threw his sunglasses on the ground and cursed, "DAMN IT! Damn every single freaking person on this freaking planet! I just wanted to make a better world. Where did I go wrong? Why is it people have died because of me? Why is it people have suffered because of me?"

he had too many questions and too little answers. The ghostly apparition of Vikus seemed to hover near a dead tree on the right side of the cemetery, and Calvin thought he could see Erik, Hadrian, Gnasher, and Temp all standing on the other side of the cemetery. It was as if all the people who had died before Calvin's eyes were returning to mock him.

"I feel like I've been carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders," Calvin said wearily, "I really do. Mum, Dad, I'm collapsing because of it. I can't take any of this shit anymore. Even after giving up all the fighting, I can't rest in peace like you guys. I wish I could. I wish I was dead."

His words were punctuated by a thunderous crash as the rain soaked through his sweater and t-shirt. "I shouldn't have yelled," he murmured, almost taken aback by how heartbroken he sounded, "I lost my temper with Mr Bennett earlier and now I'm losing my temper with you guys. My world is falling apart. If you're looking down on me from heaven, and if there is a God, please ask him to help me. Please ask him to save me. I can't fight on for much longer. There's no worse feeling than hoping you never wake up when you go to sleep."

Thunder boomed in the distance again. "I don't want to let you all down. But I know I have. I've let the Underland down, I've let Mr Carter down, I've let Hecate down, I've let Gregor down, I've let Samantha down, I've let Mr Bennett down, and worse of all, I've let the two of you down."

As lightning streaked across the sky, he stared at the graves of the two people who once meant the world to him. Nothing of them remained anymore except for a couple of tombstones. "Mum and Dad, I don't know how else to say this, I'm sorry for being a failure. I'm sorry for letting you all down."

He didn't know what to say anymore.

So he slowly sank to his knees.

And wept bitterly.


Hope this chapter was fine for you guys. Obviously we're picking up where we left off with Calvin in the last story, so for those who were afraid that he won't be featuring prominently, fear not! Calvin's just as important in this story. I've used this chapter to try and show how his character has developed in the absence of Gregor and the Underland. hope you liked my interpretation of things. It's taken me more than a week to produce this chapter, and I'm sorry about that. I've had a lot on my plate and I hope normal service will resume.

Oh, and do continue to review my story please! Favourites and follows are also welcome.

Question: What are your thoughts towards Calvin's plight? Tortured young man or whiny brat? Let me know all your thoughts in the reviews section please!

Fly you high!