Tier 3+ - Accidental Champion - Chapter 90 - Trust (Patreon)

“Watched?” Sam asked, staring intently at Xavier. “Why do you think you’re being watched?”

Xavier lowered his gaze. Looking down at the key he’d just placed on the bar instead of up at the bartender. “At the end of the fourth floor, after I received my titles, I felt—” He paused, bit his lip.

Sam raised a hand. “As much as I want you to continue that sentence, Xavier, I think there’s something you should know.”

Xavier blinked up at the man, waiting for him to elaborate.

Sam seemed to hesitate. Now it was him who looked down, not holding eye contact. He shook his head minutely. “There are things Denizens shouldn’t share with one another. Secrets of their class. Secrets of their spells. Things it might even be unwise to share with one’s own party.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you?” Xavier asked, eyes narrowing. “Because warning me like this makes me trust you more—you didn’t have to stop me from speaking.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t trust me. I’m saying you have no reasonto trust me. It’s no secret that I’ve got my eye on you. Part of what I’m doing here is searching for promise. I’ve already told you my… employer, plays a long game. But you know nothing about me. And you know nothing about them. For all you know, my employer could be looking out for threats. Crushing them while they’re small.”

Xavier downed the rest of his whiskey in one. Placed the glass back on the bar. He didn’t believe that’s what the man’s employer was doing. What Sam was doing. But maybe… maybe that was part of his problem. “You’re saying I’ve been too trusting.”

“You’ve done the right thing in searching for advice, but you must be careful what advice you take.” Sam nodded at the key. “Imagine what might have happened if you’d taken that key to someone else. They may have told you of a wonderful place to hunt beasts and gain Mastery Points, only to be sending you into a trap where they strip you of your wealth and your life, because they want that key in your hand. Because to them, it’s worth far more than you are.” Not for the first time, he flicked his gaze up to the ceiling. “The Greater Universe is a dangerous place. If you put your trust in others too freely, you’ll find you’ll never get to enjoy the benefits of an extended lifespan.”

Xavier wasn’t sure what to say to that.

He wanted to talk to Sam about all of this. Wanted to confide in the man. Which, admittedly, was strange. Though he’d never been the secretive sort, he had never sought out these sort of conversations.

Perhaps it was simply that he had so much bubbling up inside of him. So much to contemplate. So much to do.

He wanted to trust this man. And, above all, he wanted to trust his party.

Xavier shifted in his seat, an unsettling thought coming to him. What if there was another reason he wanted to tell this man all of his secrets? As far as he could tell, the variety of different spells and skills the System made available was near endless. Could there be some sort of mental manipulation skill, one that made it not only easier to talk with this man, but make people less guarded, more free with information when talking to him?

He looked down at his drink. A moment ago he’d been tempted to get another. Now, that wasn’t the case. Maybe I’m paranoid. Maybe it’s just the alcohol, even as a placebo, that loosens tongues.

Xavier asked the man one more question, “You’re saying trust no one, but how can I thrive if I have no one I can rely on?”

“There are ways to ensure others keep your secrets, or if they divulge them, that they incur a penalty.”

“A penalty? What kind of penalty? Like… death?”

Sam inclined his head. “Sometimes. That depends on how severe the terms of the contract are. Some contracts simply prevent one from talking about something entirely.” He pointed up at the ceiling, as though gesturing toward the System itself. “I’m a caretaker here, and there’s only so much I’m allowed to share with the Champions in this cohort. That’s because to be here, I signed a System-bound contract.”

Xavier couldn’t help but think of non-disclosure agreements, gag orders and the like. He supposed he should have been more careful. Should have realised there might be measures like this in place. But where, exactly, would he have found such information?

It wasn’t as though it was in the manual the System provided for the tower. “All right,” Xavier said. “Can we make a contract?”

Sam smirked. “No. At least, not yet. I’ve told you enough, true Progenitor. Now it’s time for you to flounder around in the dark some more.”

Xavier snatched his Sector Travel Key from the bar. He couldn’t say he was too surprised, or even all that frustrated with the man. Though he hadn’t gotten as many answers as he wished—he hadn’t even asked about Celestial Energy—he’d found out a few more details about the Greater Universe, and was starting to see Earth’s place in it.

And… he was beginning to wonder how, exactly, they would be able to survive.

Not only would they have to deal with the invaders that could already access their world—invaders capped at whatever level the highest Denizen of Earth had achieved—but in five years their world would be opened up fully to the Greater Universe.

He hadn’t contemplated that fact much over the last few days. He’d been far too concerned with what would happen when he returned to Earth. Far too concerned with each hour, each floor, each day, each week.

Thinking in terms of years just hadn’t been an option.

But now? With the prospect of living for hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of years—something he couldn’t even fathom—he knew he would need to think in the long term.

That presence made me feel like nothing. And in the grand scheme, Earth is nothing. If we don’t get strong. Don’t find allies… how are we going to survive in five years, when our world opens up?

It was yet another thing on his plate he needed to worry about. And part of him wanted to just throw it to the back of his mind and not think about it for… five years. But he knew that would be a mistake. This wasn’t like some university assignment he could procrastinate and put off.

Xavier almost walked straight out of the tavern, but he stopped himself, looking out at the three parties in the room.

What could he do to help these people? What would they benefit from the most?

And how much should he even share with them, given what Sam had said?

They’re my people. I can’t hide everything from them.

Xavier shut his eyes. His instincts told him to just go it alone. To not bother talking to these people at all. But that was the old Xavier. He needed to be different, now. Besides, he didn’t have to divulge his secrets to help them.

Xavier walked up to the first table. The one with the broad-shouldered man who’d nodded at him when he’d walked in. Then he looked over to the other two tables.

He cleared his throat. Felt like he was getting up in front of the class to deliver a speech, and suddenly was all nerves.

Then he remembered how powerful he’d become. What he was capable of. What he’d just achieved. He drew in a quiet, calming breath, then spoke.

“I need to speak with all of you.”

The broad-shouldered man had already noticed him walking over. Now all three parties—twelve people—were staring at him. There were a few bored expressions. A few raised eyebrows. Some vacant eyes—that made him wonder what they’d all been through.

The broad-shouldered man spoke. “Okay then,” he said, his voice deep. “Speak.” The word came out as a command. It had that short, clipped, military tone of someone used to giving orders and having them carried out.

Suddenly, Xavier wasn’t exactly sure what he should say. Then, he figured he might as well get to the point. He didn’t have the time to stand around and chat all day. “I want to give you all some advice about clearing the tower.”

The broad-shouldered man blinked. “You don’t look military, son, and I’m old enough to be your father. What advice could you possibly have for us?”

Xavier raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected such instant push back. God, he hated it when people older looked down on those younger, thinking they can’t possibly know any better than they did.

Arrogant bastard.

Another member of the man’s party leant over the table and gave broad-shoulders a shove. “Why not hear what the kid has to say?”

Xavier shut his eyes. Son. Kid. He may have been in his early twenties, but that didn’t mean he was a damned child. This is why I don’t like talking to people. He should have gotten Siobhan and Howard to do this like usual. They might have taken Howard more seriously because of his age and profession—former profession—as a cop.

Xavier stopped balancing his Spirit Core. He didn’t know if any of these guys had reached level 10, but even if they hadn’t they’d be able to feel it. Even subtly.

He released his full aura and noticed a small shift in the way they all looked at him. He stared down at the man who’d been rude. “How many floors have your party cleared?” he asked in a flat tone.

The man smirked. “Two.”

Two?

That actually took Xavier by surprise. Meant that the party might be half-decent, considering the first floor was supposed to take a party from a newly integrated world an average of a whole week.

“Not bad. I’ve cleared four. Solo. Now do you want to listen to me?”

Broad-shoulders blinked. Gave him another once over. His expression did not soften. “Four floors? Solo? The four of us have bled to get through two floors, son. You expect me to believe something like that?”

I could kill him in less than a second with nothing but my bare hands, was a thought that Xavier shoved down, knowing it wasn’t exactly useful. How did he prove his power to these people without hurting them? He hadn’t scanned them, trying to be polite, but he did so now.

That first table were all level 8. They must have had to do a lot of farming to get that high just clearing two floors.

Broad-shoulders wore full-plate armour. A Warrior. He had a sword at his hip. A big, hand-and-a-half monster. Xavier pulled up the sleeve of his Shrouded Robes. “Cut me.”

Broad-shoulders frowned. “What kinda fool are you?”

“A System-damned one. Now, cut me. Draw that toothpick you call a sword and cut me. If you can make me bleed, I’ll walk straight out of this tavern.”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth, Dawkins.”

“Shut up, Miller. He’s just some dumb kid in a costume who thinks he’s tough. The world’s gone to all hell and the last thing I’m gonna do is take advice from some gamer who thinks he knows what he’s doing because he wasted his life in front of a monitor addicted to World of Warcraft. I get enough of that crap from my kids.”

“Have you even scanned him?” a woman on their table asked. None of the Champions on the other two tables had said a word yet, but they were watching intently. “He’s level 12.”

Dawkins grunted. He placed his tankard on the table and stood. “So he farmed a bunch of pumas,” the man said, staring into Xavier’s eyes but not speaking to him. “Probably hasn’t even cleared the first floor yet, just keeps walking in, on his own, killing that one right outside the Safe Zone.” He didn’t draw his sword. “I don’t know why you want me to cut you, son, but I don’t need a sword to make you bleed, and I’m not above punching your little punk-ass.”

Xavier frowned at the man, struggling to understand why he was so aggressive. Again, he thought he would take the straightforward approach. Social interaction wasn’t his strong suit, and he had avoided conflict for basically his entire life. Now, he’d discovered he was good at combat-based conflict, but conversational conflict? That was a different story.

“Why are you wasting time?” Xavier had to tilt his chin up to look the man in the eye. Before the integration, he would have been intimidated by someone like this. That wasn’t the case anymore. “Earth is in trouble. Being invaded as we speak. I offer advice and you’re too proud to take it, why?”

If this was the type of thing he would have to deal with when he returned to Earth, people who thought they should be the ones in charge just because they’d been important before the integration and he hadn’t… he would need to make some sort of display of power.

It wasn’t that he wanted to take control of Earth, but if people were to listen to him… they would need to be aware of his strength, wouldn’t they?

“Because, what could you possibly have to teach me?”

Xavier took another one of those calming breaths, though it wasn’t having the same effect any longer. This felt different to fighting beasts, or fighting on the floors. This felt like it was about to turn into some sort of bar brawl. Old instincts told him to back down, walk away, never talk to this man ever again. Because his old instincts worried this man—and his friends—would beat the hell out of him.

But that isn’t something I need to worry about.

“Please don’t tell me the only way to open your mind is to open your skull, because I’d rather not make a mess in Sam’s tavern.” Xavier wasn’t actually going to hurt the guy. He’d never really thought violence was the answer to his problems in the past. But the universe… it was a different place now.

“You little sh—” The man cocked back his fist then swung for Xavier’s head.

Xavier didn’t move to block it. Didn’t raise his arms to protect his head. He could have stepped back or ducked away—it wouldn’t have been difficult. With his speed, it would be as easy as avoiding a slowly falling balloon coming at him from thirty feet away.

No, he didn’t do any of these things. All he did was smirk.

The fist slammed into his jaw. Xavier, hands casually hanging by his side, was like a stone wall. He didn’t budge a hairsbreadth.

Dawkins swore, fingers splayed, flapping his hand as though trying to fling away the pain. His knuckles bled. He took a step back. “Damn, is your face made of metal?”

Xavier considered. Considering his Assimilate Properties ability, that wasn’t too far from the truth.

One of the men from the second table stood. He had shoulder length brown hair and the armour of a warrior. “He might not want to listen to you, but he doesn’t speak for us, and we’re happy to.” He gestured to the other members of his party, which consisted of two Mages—a man and a woman—and a female warrior. The man stepped forward, straight past Dawkins, who was still nursing his hand—some of the knuckles might have actually been broken, not just bloody.

The man extended his hand. “My name is Ryan.”

Xavier shook. “Xavier.”—

Maybe he didn’t need to bother with people like Dawkins. Maybe people like that could be someone else’s problem.

A chair was brought around for him. Xavier sat in front of the second two tables—and couldn’t help but see the members of the first listening in—and told them everything he knew about the Tower of Champions.

Well, almost everything.