normality than those on Daem. The land itself was barren and flat, with
sparse vegetation in the forms of small, deformed shrubs and a short,
weak looking grass. As I looked closer I saw that there were about six
of the strange, stooped humanoids, and they were gathering the fruits of
some of the shrubs for consumption. In a few moments they finished their
task and began to walk further inland, and I followed their progress
with interest until they finally disappeared behind some of the small
plateaus that were scattered here and there among the wastelands.

Putting the telescope down, I walked over to the couch and laid down on
it, with indignation filling my every move, for I was almost enraged
that the Zards and Canitaurs both should fail to tell me, whom they
claimed to respect as kinsman redeemer and whose decisions would seal
their fate for good or ill, that there were other survivors from the
Great Wars. I was also shocked by their selfishness, for while they
fought pettily amongst themselves over how they would change their lands
for the better, a seemingly important question about past and future,
they completely ignored the sufferings of other humanoids, to whom their
way of living no doubt seemed like a paradise. But there they were,
stuck across the sea on their desolate lands, unable to cross to Daem
and enjoy its plentiful resources and luxuries, yet not at all unaware
of them, for as they labored in their hopeless ways, they could see Daem
shining like a heavenly vision before them, one which they were not able
to touch or grasp, but instead one that must infuriate them to no end in
their heart, at the knowledge of fate's unfairness and their utter
hopelessness and complete poverty, not because of their laziness or
their ignorance or anything involving their actions whatsoever, but
simply because they had been born on the wrong side of the sea.

At that moment I was embittered against both the Zards and the Canitaurs