Once the tension settled, things returned to normal. Men and women went back to drinking and chattering, unbothered by the looming threat.
Haul played the role of mediator, preventing either of the two from trying to attack the other. One was a mercenary who lived a life that left trails of blood. The other was a kid from the slums who hadn't lived long enough to survive a confrontation with the mercenary.
Settling their dispute had an obvious solution.
If they have problems with each other, they'll settle it like men do… by fighting.
'Settle it like men?! This bastard's going to blast my entire head off!' Sadly, nothing could stop Haul once she decided on something. Not even the loud bartender who never spoke again after shaking the room.
Haul was already explaining the process, so Worthy intently listened. Even if he didn't want to duke it out with the man, he put himself in this situation by being too prideful. From what the old hag said, things weren't as bad for him as he might've thought.
"Neither of you are going to kill each other, not in this sanctuary. Walkyr, you should know better than anyone how valuable you are to this place. We definitely aren't letting you get hurt needlessly… Well, hurt beyond the point of healing, I should say."
Walkyr scoffed, "I 'preciate the concern, Old Lady." There was much more he wanted to say, but knew better to hold his tongue.
"Tomorrow, we'll have you two fight it out. The kid'll get a wooden sword and you'll be unarmed. That should even out the playing field… As best as it can."
Both Worthy and Walkyr nod. In fact, Worthy felt far more comfortable now that he knew his opponent was going to be unarmed. Walkyr was a gunslinger, from what the boy could tell. Close-ranged melees wouldn't be his forte, but they'd certainly be the bread and butter of a kid from the slums. Beating an experienced adult would be difficult, but not impossible.
Haul studied both of them and shook her head with an unreadable expression. "If you have any second thoughts… Too bad. If need be, I'll throw you out of this place myself before War wakes up, then tell 'em you ran off. Understood?"
After they both agreed, they departed. Walkyr returned to the bar to keep drinking, and Worthy went past Haul and her entourage, back into the sanctuary's main lobby.
He had many thoughts on his mind, including how he planned on winning. When he first arrived, he managed to get the drop on a flesh abomination and killed it in a single strike, an impressive accomplishment for a child of his stature… Only, the kill wasn't entirely because of his physical efforts. It happened because the Blood Knife he'd received from Freight was fully charged by the advantageous terrain.
Had he not been given the knife before coming in, there's no telling how that encounter might've gone. War had his hands tied protecting Esme, Cross, and Robert. While he might've tried his hardest to save the boy, they'd already lost another member of the party beforehand. Even with a monstrous force like War around, nobody was safe.
Worthy's carelessness… He never noticed how close to death he really was until now. If the dagger was even marginally weaker, it would've struck bone and been caught. Then, death would've quickly followed. Assimilating the body of a child would only take a second or two; there'd have been nothing he could do.
'Shit... I'm in over my head here, aren't I?' After a while, he understood that he was. Nevertheless, this didn't dissuade him at all.
"Kid," Fortunately, the familiar voice coming from the distance ahead of Worthy gave him an opening to stop thinking about the dreadful reality. "I've got to say it. You and Esme are two mighty unlucky people, do you know that?"
'I'd be lying if I said he was wrong…'
"You're wrong. I'm much luckier than her, Mr. Cross."
Approaching him was the familiar mercenary, Cross, still with a bandana wrapped firmly around his head. The two didn't have time to speak after coming to this place, so Worthy felt relieved to see a familiar face for once. Esme was fine and dandy, but Cross was someone reliable when it came to violence.
Only a handful of people knew Worthy's story, and Cross was one of them.
An amused sound comes from Cross. "Luckier? I'd wager you're the unluckiest kid in the world, pal. Not only did you end up caught in the view of the previous Overlord of the Underworld… You also made enemies with Deadman Walkyr, a man renowned for regularly fighting Knights for high prices."
Whatever snarky remark Worthy had died in his throat after he processed the sellsword's words. "Y—You don't mean… actual Knights, right? Surely you're talking about… armored grunts, or something?" There was no way someone who Worthy never heard of was so strong that he could not only survive regular conflicts with Knights, but also gain a reputation for battling them.
The sellsword shakes his head. "My friend, you've made enemies with not only one of the most dangerous men on this floor, but also the porter who's supposed to transport us to a Prime Settlement once War's awake. If it comes down to it, he might just refuse to bring you with him, and you'll have to either stay here or go on foot."
Reality was a daunting thing, often unfair and cruel. Worthy knew it because he lived an unfair and cruel life.
The most cruel part about today, though, was the shit-eating grin Cross had on his face while watching the boy suffer!
"What are you smiling about, Mr. Cross!? Can't you see how bad a spot I'm in!? You're… you're telling me that even if I beat this guy in our fight, somehow, I'll be forced to walk on foot to the Prime Settlement he's sending War to. Because he's the guy who can get everyone easy access there…?"
Wordlessly, Cross nods again. He finds this situation very amusing, for some unclear reason.
Briefly, Worthy considered fleeing. Then he realized how hopeless that'd be, too. If Walkyr is the person who can safely transport people across Carnage Valley, that means he has a mobility-based Reward. Going outside when being hunted by a man like that spells death for anyone dumb enough to upset him. In this case… Worthy was the dumb one.
"Forgive me, forgive me. I just thought of something funny. You needn't worry about being abandoned, Worthy, my friend. You're in a precarious spot, but it hasn't all come crumbling down. You're a child, and children are good learners."
Cross was finished basking in the boy's dismay, finally.
"Obviously I'm a good learner, I'm a smart kid. Or so I've been told. What does that have to do with preparing to have my head cracked open?"
The sellsword continued:
"Well… Deadman Walkyr didn't find Knights just for the money. No man is insane enough to battle some of the most dangerous warriors in the world just because someone pays you. Unless they have the dedication to their job like… well, like a Holy Knight, then no one would ever take that risk. No."
This made Worthy's ears twitch. His brow raises. "Yeah? Then why else would he do something that crazy? Besides the fact that he's a lunatic, of course."
"Him being a lunatic is actually a very important key to this puzzle. See, Deadman Walkyr was a foreigner who came from a disestablished country. There, strength, skill, and wit dictated survival. When he finally arrived in our country… he set out to grow stronger, so that he could return to his hometown, and then conquer it. That's what the stories say, anyway."
If someone wants to become stronger, the best option is to fight strong opponents. Wherever Walkyr came from, people there must've been comparable to Knights in some way. Maybe they were more powerful than them, or perhaps they were weaker, and the man simply wanted to be utterly dominating. Regardless, the ambitions of the man made sense.
It also answered the question about why the man entered the tower… somewhat. Not really, though. Thankfully, it didn't need to. Worthy didn't care.
"Cool. Then, you're saying I should find a way out of here and run off to whatever lawless zone he comes from. Right?"
Cross looked like he wanted to hold in his laughter.
"No, you need to be strong. Realistically, you'll never be strong enough to beat that guy in a fight."
Worthy nodded, but also rolled his eyes. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mr. Cross."
Then, Cross continued.
"You're a child, so even he knows that he can beat you. Right now, he's probably planning the quickest way he can beat you without knocking you unconscious. I'd bet his thought process is something along the lines of: 'I'll teach that 'lil shit a lesson he won' never forget'. You need him to take an interest in your potential to be strong, rather than your non-existent strength."
None of it made sense to the boy, at first. Quickly, the pieces put themselves into the correct places.
"Hm…"
"No… Wait…"
"Ah… Yeah. Yeah, no…"
A light glistened in the child's eyes. "You're a damn genius!" He exploded.
One thing battle maniacs had in common, from the child's experience, was their obsession with potential. Fighters didn't just fight because they enjoyed the thrill. While that was a big component, it was because they needed to see how far their body could go, both in that moment and in the future. Though they rarely used that word later in their lives, they were checking their own potential.
Children had limitless potential. A child with just enough potential to catch the interest of a battle freak would be comparable to meeting a worthy challenge. Hopefully, that'd be enough to make the cowboy think twice before splitting the child's head down the middle.
There was just one issue.
"How am I going to show him my potential if I can't even fight properly?"
For some reason, Worthy felt like he was going to regret asking that question. Cross still answered.
"It's simple. I'll train you enough to know how to swing a weapon properly. You really only have a day to learn, so there's not nearly enough time to go over any real intricacies. Honestly, I wouldn't go over them with you in the first place. I'm not a teacher."
Cross was an exceptional mercenary. His demeanor and confidence spoke of the level he was at. Worthy couldn't measure it, but the man had to be somewhere equal to Walkyr, if only a little behind. The differences in their fighting styles matter too, of course, but Worthy was confident that a fight between the two could very well be a toss-up, all things considered.
With War asleep and no other allies to rely on, Cross was Worthy's best chance to learn something, no matter how small, before tomorrow.
"I accept." The boy tried not to sound too excited by the prospect of finally receiving training from an experienced person. This would benefit his goal of climbing well.
He just had one concern, something gnawing at the back of his mind since the conversation started. It was too sudden, too convenient.
Worthy and Cross hadn't met each other since arriving here. He'd seen Esme and steered clear of Robert. But he didn't cross paths with Cross, at least not enough to converse. So…
"If you don't mind me asking… Why are you coming to me now? I'd assume you'd be preparing to climb once War wakes up, instead of wasting time training a kid like me."
Somberly, Cross answered:
"Well… You see, Worthy… I heard from an eccentric gambler recently that I'm not qualified to have information shared with me. Odd, isn't it? Well, I decided to use my inadequate mind for something productive."
Worthy should've listened to his instincts. No, it wasn't his instincts. He should've watched his words around Esme.
'S—Shit!'