Chapter 223 - Confrontations

As Oliver walked up the stairs, an elderly gentleman greeted the group.

"Philip," Oliver nodded in response.

"Sir," Philip answered with respect, "Your parents are waiting for you. I suggest you clean yourself up and meet with them right away."

"You haven't changed one bit," Oliver chuckled as he stepped into the entrance, "I'll go meet with them. Meanwhile, you guys make yourselves comfortable. Philip, if you'd please."

"Of course, sir," Philip nodded, "Right this way."

Philip guided Jack and the gnome to another room while Strider stayed with Oliver. But, before Jack entered the room, Oliver called him over.

"Hey, don't let your guard down. It's probably nothing. But, to be on the safer side, keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Okay? I'm counting on you to bail me out if something ever goes wrong."

"Gotcha," Jack nodded as he left hurriedly to catch up with the gnome and Philip.

Oliver watched Jack leave and faced the grand-looking stairs after. He let out a deep breath as he prepared himself for the confrontation that would come. While he did this, Strider then brushed up Oliver's leg. It had been a long time since the wolf had done so, causing Oliver to look down.

"What's wrong, buddy?"

Kneeling on one knee, Oliver met the wolf eye to eye. It wasn't like the wolf could respond to Oliver's question at all. But, with the bond they shared, it wasn't strange for one to sense what the other was feeling.

"Hmph. It's fine, pal," Oliver rubbed the back of the wolf's head, "There's just a lot on my mind. It helps that you're here, Strider."

As Oliver faced Strider, a sense of calm washed over him. He couldn't understand why, but it was as though the wolf knew what he was going through.

He never noticed it before, but Oliver was never really one with words. He wasn't as descriptive as Rynold was in defining his feelings and putting them into words. Oliver just knew what he felt, and that was it.

However, as Oliver faced Strider, he could strange sense of sympathy coming from the wolf. It was strange, sure, but he couldn't really understand why. All Oliver did now was to calm down, which helped ease the tension on his shoulders.

"Okay," Oliver stood back up and faced the stairs, "Let's get going then."

With a semi-steeled heart, Oliver walked up the stairs and turned right once he reached the top of it. From there, he walked down the hall, slightly reminiscing. It was a bit weird to come back to this place after years of being away from it. But Oliver had pleasant memories of it, regardless.

Knock. Knock.

Oliver knocked on a slightly stained white door that he remembered to be the door to the study. He waited for a response from the inside, somehow wishing that he hadn't knocked just then.

"Come in."

Opening the door to a room of bookshelves and expensive leather furniture, Oliver raised the tips of his lips into a subtle smile. It was awkward, at the very least.

"You called for me?" Oliver asked as he caught his voice slightly tremble.

"Hm?" Oliver's father looked up from his desk and said, "Oh, it's just you. Sit." Then, the guy looked back down on his desk as he flipped through his papers.

With surprised eyes, Oliver couldn't help but believe that there had to be more than that. Oliver's been gone for about nine months now, and all his father could say was that crap? In Oliver's mind, the whole brief conversation seemed bizarre.

Regardless, though, Oliver followed.

As he let Strider into the room, Oliver closed the door behind him. He then walked to the couch and unintentionally caught a glimpse of the balcony through the glass. Sitting just outside this very room was his mother.

His father cleared his throat as Oliver sat down on the leather seat for quite some time now. He then placed his glasses on the table and looked at Oliver with a disappointed eye.

"How are you?"

Oliver didn't expect the question, nor did he want to answer. But, seeing as how his father extended an olive branch, Oliver felt obligated to say something.

"Fine," Oliver answered coldly, "How's everyone else?"

"Alive and well," his father answered the same way, causing an air of awkwardness around them. It lasted for a few awkward seconds, to which Oliver soon became uncomfortable with.

"If that's all," Oliver shifted his weight forward as he prepared to leave. He got what he came here for, after all, and any second spent here would've been a second spent on finding Neana.

"Sit. Down."

His father's tone suddenly became forceful as he kept the pressure on Oliver. It would've worked. On the old Oliver, that is.

On the new and improved Oliver, though? Not so much.

"I'd rather not," Oliver said as he stood up. His words were polite and pleasant, much like how he learned to do so. However, Oliver's intimidating aura wasn't something he could hide. Oliver stood over his father like a man against an insurmountable mountain.

"Sit down or else I'll-"

Strider barked and interrupted his father's words. It wasn't for the lack of trying, though, Oliver noted. But it'll take more than a few words to control Oliver now.

"Or else you'll what, exactly?" Oliver called his father's threats. "You know, I came back here to check on everyone. To check if the New World hadn't claimed any more victims that were close to me. But, it's just as I expected. Nothing's changed, and this whole interaction is nothing but shit."

"Enough!" his father suddenly raised his voice to eleven. "You are ungrateful and worthless! You ran away when your family counted on you to be there for them! And you come back nine months later to see how your family is doing? The audacity of your arrogant, selfish ass."

"Me? ME?! You honestly think that I'm the problem here?! I left because I know what you were thinking back then! And, I sure as hell know what you're thinking right now. I know better than anyone else that you're going to use me to get what you want. Again. Time and time again."

Oliver's expression visibly turned from one of anger to sadness. It was the first time he's ever gone against his father. And, for some reason, he felt the guilt well up in his heart. It was as though he knew he was the one at fault here — that what his father said was true.

"You know what?" Oliver inhaled sharply and stared at his father dead in the eye. "Screw this."

That said, he turned and headed to the door. Oliver's entire body felt heavy as the sound of his footsteps tapped on the wooden floor.

"Stop."

A voice different from his father's suddenly called out, causing Oliver to halt. He turned around and faced who called him.

"Mom," he greeted solemnly.

"Come back here this instant and apologize for what you said," Oliver's mother ordered without any sense of sympathy whatsoever. The tone of her voice was like nothing had happened.

"Why should I?" Oliver walked back to the center of the room, arms crossed. Beside him was Strider, who, for the most part, was snarling at the other two people in the room.

"You ask why?" his mother asked, appalled and offended, "He is your father, that's why! Do you really think you can go and run off on your own? You have a responsibility to his family and our estate. You're lucky your father didn't disown you then and there."

"Do it then," Oliver called their bluff once more. "It beats having to deal with this family's problems over and over again."

"How dare y-"

"What? Huh? What else do you have to say? What other insults could you come up with to make me stay? You keep talking about responsibility and familial duties when all you really do is sit on your fucking ivory towers and look down on us mere mortals. And the worst part of it is — you treat your children the same way."

Oliver had just about enough of his parents' excuses at this point and spoke without a filter. There was no disparity in his words and with what he felt.

"Do you even know what's going on out there? People are dying. People are struggling to do their best to fucking survive. It's taking all of their willpower and resources to survive in this New World. And what do you do? Sit here in this, this glorified testament to political power that you don't even lift a finger to save someone's life. And, yet, you want me to do the same?!"

Taking in another deep breath, Oliver closed his eyes as he recovered his composure. He then slowly opened them once again and stared into the eyes of his father. Without holding a single inch back, Oliver fully unleashed his killing intent.

"So do whatever you want," Oliver coldly said as he glared, "Boot me. Berate me. Insult me to all your rich friends. All I know is that I've done a lot more things that I can be proud of this past year than most of my life with you people. Good. Bye."

Turning to the door once more, Oliver took the same steps out of the room. He felt his heart become heavier than it did before, but a sense of freedom was there all the same.

It was contradictory, sure. But, Oliver had said his piece. He didn't want to continue on the family legacy any more than he already had. It was time for him to make a name for himself in this New World — with no burden of being the heir to his family.

"You walk out that door, and it'll be the end of your relationship with this family. Say goodbye to all of the privileges you had. How easy you had it."

His father's words were nothing but grains of sand to an already-filled desert. It didn't affect Oliver in any way as he kept walking out of the room at the same pace as before.

"Oliver? Oliver!"

This time, it was his mother who called out to him. The fear in her trembling voice almost made Oliver hesitate his decision. But, at the very least, it did cause him to stop.

"I almost forgot," Oliver's cold voice as serious as ever, "You can have this back."

Without turning around, Oliver threw the family Insignia back at his parents. He didn't want to rely on his family's name anymore as the sound of the metal clink on the ground.

And, with that now over with, Oliver and Strider walked out the room and closed the behind them. Oliver then stood in the hallway, letting out a deep breath. It was a tiring exchange, and Oliver felt emotionally exhausted by it.

"Thanks for having my back there, buddy," Oliver smiled as he saw the wolf look up at him. "I couldn't have done it without you."

It was then that Oliver had realized that why Strider felt sympathetic. Oliver quickly kneeled and scratched the back of Strider's ear. He couldn't believe that it had taken him so long to figure it out.

"That's why you're worried about me?" Oliver asked sincerely to the wolf, "You sure had it rough, huh, pal?"

Oliver realized that the path Strider took was not too different from his own.

While the rest of the wolves in his pack abandoned Strider, Oliver chose to walk away from his family. Their stories may have been different, but the two were none other exiles, outcasts from their families. Whether by choice or by circumstance, Oliver and Strider were alone together.

And, what was ironic about it was that Oliver didn't realize that a third entity was the same. The devil residing within Oliver wasn't any different from the two of them. Oliver just hadn't noticed it.