The Realm of Opeomund

Revenge - 22

The four teammates gasped for air, their consciousness slowly fading away. The hotness of the air had drained them even further...until eventually, the five of them fainted, their flame-resistant armor allowing them to survive further. Adwin remained conscious, his body being thrown at the walls.

"It truly is odd," Draven Whitmore said with the usual, calm voice, "how a large amount of determination and effort can go to waste in such little time. Yet, I've always had the question of why it is that we try so hard. Why is there satisfaction for every desire that we've fulfilled? Our deaths wouldn't be recorded into books nor will descendants of later generations care. It's almost as if...we've vanished without placing a single thought into the minds of others. But, people still keep going to attain that satisfaction of a desire."

"Wh-why ar-are yo-you here?" Adwin asked as he took a large gulp and crawled on the floor toward Draven Whitmore. He felt a flame resonate within himself and had an enraged expression on his face. "I want you to face your consequences."

"Living in agony since childhood is not a satisfying consequence, is it?" Draven asked, picking Adwin off of the ground. He then stared far off into the distance, looking at mountains, and started to speak once more. "It may not be a satisfying consequence because you're truly not understanding how I'm living in agony or not seeing it."

Adwin discarded what Draven said and angrily shouted, "I'm going to make you face the consequences of the things you did to everyone!"

Draven chuckled for a bit yet had a pained expression on his face. He stared at his clean right hand and started thinking about the blood that was on it so long ago. "You never would even meet them--each and every single person that you see here would be someone you would not have ever seen if it wasn't for one death. If someone you didn't know died to the hands of a corrupt king, you'd simply not think about it. In the twenty years that you lived in that cottage, I've slain quite a number of men. Have you done something about it?"

"What's your point?" Adwin demanded, feeling guilt envelop him as he listened to Whitmore talking about what his goal was.

"I want to dominate the world to start The Fourth Great War, one that could devastate the world of Opeo. I want it to be written down in history so descendants in later times can turn this world of Opeo into one realm and forever place the world in peace. This last corruption age can shape the greatness of the world. There has always been competition--in military power or other expertise--between the Mundans and Verxers. There has always been a competition between Zurians and Reiners...and in the last fifty years, battles have taken place based on these competitions."

"This is the excuse for your barbarism? You'd even sacrifice the children of this age who may be the leaders of the future because you think this way would help you envision the peace of all realms and to become one? Why wouldn't you communicate with the militaries and leaders of the realms instead of taking action?"

"This world," Whitmore started, "is a cruel environment. The people of this world are merciless and the poor that haven't been attended to crawl on the ground in search of food for their survival. As you can tell, the realms, being mere centuries old, aren't at their peaks. Merely communicating won't change or expand anything. One corruption age will set us on a straight path, as the people can be noble sacrifices. We even are discovering the new ancient technology that Merek had built in isolation." Draven then took a pause and asked Adwin, "Anything else you'd like me to respond about before I move on?"

Adwin took a moment to think, standing back up and glaring at Draven Whitmore. He noticed that Whitmore was only slightly taller than Adwin and the scars on Whitmore's face signifies a lot of battles have been attended to. Draven Whitmore stated how the last fifty years had battles on competitions, which led to Adwin drifting into thoughts of how battles lead to expenses and many coins being lost, being a factor of why there were poor. Adwin knew Draven was born forty or fifty years ago and was possibly a poor child, likely having to cope with being sold or losing parents and fending off for himself. Adwin felt like he was able to piece Whitmore's story until he cleared his mind. He then paused and felt frustration bottled up inside him.

"Why have you killed them?"

"The race between the both of us seven years ago to reach your mother was the plan to place you in slumber. I intentionally wounded you in a vital spot so your mother could use her life restoration technique to sacrifice herself in order to save you. This allowed for some time to be taken to force the Mundan military to change into the Forgelaws. As we speak, Forgelaws and the other realms' militaries, aided by the leaders of the realms, are clashing."

"My father and brother-"

"Your father," Draven started, "did not die by my hands. He died from one of my mind-controlled pawns because your father was in our way as we were approaching the kingdom from a battle in Opeoverx. Your brother did not abide by the law which was passed days before his death."

"Now, my other question," Adwin reminded Whitmore, his curiosity dominating his anger as he recalled his childhood memories with Collins.

Draven stared down below him and watched as rocks slid down hills and vanished into the magma. He smiled a bit, considering the question Adwin asked earlier to be the most wonderful question in the world. What's your point? ringed in Whitmore's head as he finally began to respond.

"You'd let the corruption go as long as you weren't involved. These friends you've made whose stories they've told would've ended without you knowing. So, in other words, this isn't you fighting for your friends."

"Then, what is it?" Adwin demanded.

"This is a story of revenge and of desired bloodshed," Whitmore responded, his smile turning into a slight frown. "These aren't your friends; they're tools you're using to help you in this dirty work that you put back and leave without."

"That!"--Adwin's shouting turned to a whisper--"isn't true."

"You want me dead, don't you?" Whitmore smiled as he said those words. "Don't worry, many people want me dead. But, I would find it necessary to ask, do you enjoy bloodshed?"

Draven didn't expect an answer and finally shifted to a different topic. "Listen, I also have a revenge plan as well."

"Wha-"

"My parents were enslaved and brutally murdered, my friends tortured, and I constantly was beaten and starving from bandits. It really is just more of a reason why I am carrying out what in history would possibly be the final corruption age."

Am I no different from him? popped into Adwin's head as Draven Whitmore left the area without a trace.