When his eyes opened, he found that there were an assortment of shimmering colors fluttering in his vision. The entity was disoriented, groans leaving his lips that make him unaware of the distant sound of chattering.
'I'm… who am I?' The entity could not remember himself for a moment. It felt like he'd been washed ashore on an island with no memories, left to fend for himself on an undiscovered plot of land. Only, the land he was on was neither an island nor undiscovered. Instead, he was on a soft, cushioned bed in a rather comfortable-looking room.
Remember. The entity was trying his best to remember, but kept falling short.
Soon, in relation to whatever flow of time he was connected to, something re-emerged in his mind.
Worthy, the entity remembered his name was Worthy. And once he remembered his name was Worthy, he could remember everything else that came after. The vivid face of his mother, the exhausted expression on his father's face the day she departed, and his little sister held in the man's arm as they watched her walk toward the distant tower, where she would never return.
And then, he remembered the difficult life they lived thereafter while waiting for her return, which would never come. The loss of hope brought an ache to his chest. It weighed more than the realization his mother was dead — he wouldn't be the first boy in the slums to lose a mother, after all.
None of that mattered now. It led him to where he is now, he assumed, but that was not the root of his tumultuous state of mind.
Eventually, he found the cause of his bed-ridden status. "...Alice." He spoke unconsciously, and when the memories flashed in his mind, his full consciousness returned shortly after. No longer was he the entity lacking his mind. Once again, he was Climber Worthy.
…And Climber Worthy was not alone in the room, "Sweetheart, who in the world is Alice?" Esme looked at him with a worried expression, sat right beside the bed he'd woken up in. The woman had been watching over him for a while, it seemed.
Worthy held his mouth agape unknowingly for a moment. Partly, because he sincerely hadn't realized someone was beside him. But, primarily, because he was too embarrassed to answer. So, he feigned ignorance — pretending that he was still waking up. Which, technically, was not all a lie.
She studied the zoned out boy for a few moments that felt like an eternity. Eventually, the child felt an irresistible urge to blink, and had no choice but to cease his act. The woman wasn't buying it to begin with. It was just that she was patient enough to wait for a response.
"I… don't want to talk about it." Finally, the boy answered. It'd have been easier if he'd begun with that, instead of playing possum.
Clicking her tongue, Esme shook her head reproachfully. "No, kid. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to explain yourself this time around. Do you even know the state you were in when Cross and I found you?"
"The state I was in? Unconscious, I'm guessing? Probably sprawled out on the floor with a fever." He couldn't know their perspective, which was ironic, considering he just saw the world through somebody else's eyes. Before passing out, he was in agony that could hardly be described with words. On the inside, it felt like his soul was splitting apart, and if not for whatever had mended him back together at the end of Alice's memory, he likely would've been a vegetable. From the outside, there was no telling what it must've looked like from an onlooker's perspective.
How Alice explained it next, was beyond anything the boy might've imagined.
"Where should I start? …First off, you were out of your mind when we found you in an alleyway. Judging by how you're speaking, I'm going to assume you don't know how you ended up there. One way or another, when Cross went over and tried to check on you, some weird stuff happened. You started fighting him, or well, your body did. I've got to say, I'm beyond impressed by the fight your shell put up against that guy."
Worthy tried to imagine himself giving a good, serious fight to Cross. He tried to conceive a way he'd go about fighting the man, if it ever came down to it. Nothing came to mind, because it was too illogical to happen. Envisioning his small frame challenging the seasoned fighter was as hard as making out the inner workings of the world his consciousness was shoved through.
Esme continued, "Weirdly enough, it wasn't just the fact that your body was moving on its own that was amazing. No offense when I say this, Worthy, but you're a whole lot tougher than I expected. Your Reward's more impressive than most of the ones I've seen. Taking hits from Cross without even showing signs of slowing down? I see why War's been keeping such a close eye on you."
There was a lot to unpack there.
He didn't know that War was keeping an eye on him. It made sense, given the Holy Knight's personality, so it wasn't all that surprising.
Irrelevant details aside, her words didn't make any sense to him before that point. "Ms. Esme, I… My ability revolves around navigation and travel."
Blinking, Esme stared, dumbfounded. There were quite a few thoughts going through her mind, and a mix of emotions passed in an instant. One of them was undeniably frustrated, probably from finding out that the boy whose ability was based on navigation hadn't been using it openly. He'd kept it a secret, even.
After that frustration quickly subsided — the woman not petty enough to point ire towards a child — she pondered the underlying meaning behind what she'd seen.
"I… I see. Then, I'll need to tweak my explanation a little. Kid, you were giving Cross a fight that should've been impossible. Primarily, it was thanks to that blood-sucking dagger you've got. Both of us had a suspicion its absorption is especially deadly when used on humans. You were using it like a madman, pushing Cross onto the defensive, and enduring hits from him that should've been enough to lay grown men flat on their backs. You… were stronger than you should've been."
And as she continued explaining, the tales of the difficult fight led them here.
Cross had dealt a few grievous wounds to the child in the end. Although he initially practiced restraint, he treasured his life too much to risk getting hit by the knife. Disarming the wild Worthy proved to be too tedious of a task, so he went with the quickest, and less safe option.
The source behind the boy's sudden increase in power was unknown. It was possibly thanks to someone else's Reward, but that was too unlikely. Besides the anonymous murderer who butchered the Knights in the worm tunnel, nobody had a reason to exercise such open hostility.
Worthy was rather indignant now that he'd heard what happened. Apparently, his body moved on its own and attacked Cross. Not only did he attack the man who'd served as his mentor, but he wasn't conscious enough to experience a fight with the man while wielding similar strength. It'd have no doubt been a splendid learning experience, one that he'd missed while going through lucid visions of the past.
"Whatever happened, thanks for stopping me before I ended up attacking somebody else. I can't tell you why I attacked Mr. Cross, since I don't have a clue myself. However, what I can tell you is something a whole lot more interesting." He had a cheeky grin on his face, the face of a boy carrying secrets more valuable than the richest of jewels.
Sadly, the veracity of this claim was subjective. There were many valuable jewels out in the world that held more worth than a few undiscovered mysteries. Nevertheless, this knowledge was not dominant enough in his mind to deflate his eagerness to recall what he'd just learned.
"In fact, I think War needs to hear this, especially. He's still around, right? He hasn't fallen into a deep sleep again, right?"
Esme chuckled, "Nope. The Holy Knight is wide awake and kicking. Honestly, I feel like he's gotten a whole lot stronger over the days."
With that confirmation settled, Worthy groaned, forcing himself to rise. Sharp pains shot through him, though none of them compared to what he'd felt before losing his consciousness. "Wonderful. Because, Ms. Esme, I know you especially must be dying to know some secrets right about now."
At first, Esme looked at the boy warily, then her face changed to a smooth smile. "I am very fond of secrets. That said, I'd need to know what kind of secrets we're talking about. Judging by the fact that you've got no recollection of the last day or so, I doubt you've learned something cool about the town."
Oh, Esme. How wrong she was. Sweet, innocent, ignorant Esme!
"Oh? As it happens, during my mental breakdown, I stumbled upon quite a major mystery. Several mysteries, in fact!" Raising a finger for each point, he listed:
"The identity of the First Craftsman who built this settlement, the origin of the Gateways and the location of the first one, and the terrible, wicked, dreadful reality of the world we find ourselves in."