Tycondrius had just been called out in front of a crowd. The audience stared with excited eyes, waiting for a response.
Seven hells, what was the point of Lang Hai's showboating? He was only calling *more* attention to himself. Was this some sort of trick? Was he being pranked?
Tycon shrugged. He clicked on the safety of his pistol, placing it underneath his cloak in a chest-mounted holster.
He presented himself to the crowd and raised his voice, "My name is Tycondrius of Charm. I hold the title of Monsieur le Baron, granted by King Adal and ratified by the Council. I am the guild leader of Guild Sol Invictus, Champions of the Gladiatorial Arena in Ezyria...
"I have uncovered the crimes against the Kingdom by corrupt Duke Tavor of Merylsward, and seen to his arrest. I am the savior of the Ivory Judge Hidden Sect and their Guardian Beast. And by my own two hands, I've reaped the life of a fire-breathing winged lizard."
"Dinnae ya mean... a dragon?" Eilean tilted her head, seeming to stare through the red cloth that covered her eyes.
ραпdα Йᴏνê|(сòm) "Don't be ridiculous, young lady." Tycon immediately rejected the notion, "Dragons don't exist."
"You're… you're so cool, Mister," Rico whimpered. Apparently, the girl hadn't yet bled to death and, more surprising, was still conscious.
Hai narrowed his eyes, "Private First Class Rico, you have my permission to die."
"Aye aye, Cap'n," Rico responded with a lilting voice.
Hai approached Tycon, standing within a sword's distance, "Sounds like you do have the qualifications to challenge me!"
Tycon stared blankly, "Yes, and I... probably exceed them."
Hai began pointing angrily, snapping his teeth with his words, "You fancy yourself a gunner? You think that because you can afford to have a hand cannon, that you're financially responsible and therefore better than me?!"
"Yes and yes," Tycon replied flatly. Was the boy crying again?
Eilean unstoppered a flask of clear liquid and poured it on the fallen Rico.
"It's seawater," she explained. "This'ull fix the wee 'un right up."
Tycon's mouth twitched. He was trying to hide his emotions but was inwardly horrified. His own Inspirational Surge Skill increased Dragan's healing factor by 5 or 6 times-- his broken arm would be back to normal in a week. Rico had several broken limbs and was bleeding like a leaking bucket. If a single splash of seawater could enable her to even crawl... Egh. the prospect was daunting.
"I have your BET for you right here, BOY!" Hai screamed, "Shoot me with that pistol you're so proud of! I'll dodge it... or-or I'll catch it! And then I'll jam the bullet right into your eye!"
Tycon averted his gaze, cautiously pulling out his pistol again. The boy's absolute confidence was making him uncomfortable. Tycon could scarcely believe anyone could be so certain of themselves. Was this... Was this what it was like when he did it to other people?
Hai stepped forward, standing even closer, at arm's distance. He pointed provocatively at his forehead.
"If you can drop me with your gun, you win. If you can't, or if you can't even pull the trigger, you go back to your crew and don't come back until you find wherever you lost your courage.
"I, High-Captain Lang Hai, of the Beaurte Marines, sanction this contracted duel and absolve Tycondrius of Charm of any negative repercussions from my injury or death!"
The crowd erupted in 'aahs' and 'ooh's, along with a smattering of applause.
"Now..." Hai smirked arrogantly, now pointing both fingers at his forehead, "Are you man enough to pull the trigger?"
Tycon stared at the shorter, younger boy. Was winning the wager so easy? There were certainly loopholes to the bet. The simplest and most obvious was Lang Hai's Abyssal Sea Wolf curse.
Judging from the performance of his crew at the Couture mansion, each of the Beaurte Marines could easily ignore fatal injuries. As Eilean demonstrated, with the easily accessible seawater, the cursed Marines could even regenerate from their injuries at a monstrous rate.
Tycon surmised that the salty port city air could trigger their healing factor-- it was a theory reinforced by the fact that Rico still lived, having bled profusely for several minutes.
With all of the boy's boasting that he was the Abyssal Sea Wolf "Alpha", it was a given fact that his regeneration rate would be as high-- likely higher than that of his subordinates.
A shot to the chest certainly wouldn't kill the boy. And he seemed more than confident that he could survive a bullet to the brain.
...Tycon saw no negatives to the wager. Regardless of whether he won or lost, he wouldn't pay a single copper. He also didn't see any loopholes Hai could easily take advantage of.
He switched the safety off of his pistol.
...
High-Captain Lang Hai tried to keep his demeanor steady.
Was Lang Hai faster than a speeding bullet?
No.
He might be able to if he were on his ship, surrounded by the ocean and bathed in sea mist. The more seawater he was in contact with, the stronger and faster he was.
He could take a bullet as well as any Beaurte Marine. The Abyssal Sea Wolf curse would heal any wound, though Hai would probably forget what he had for breakfast at best, or forget how to use a fork and knife for a few suns at worst.
The noble clicked his safety off, but Hai had figured the kid out, one hundred percent. There was no way he was brave enough to shoot him in the head. This bet was as good as won.
Tycon placed the barrel of his pistol against Hai's head.
Hai even adjusted the barrel with his finger, making certain it was at the exact center of his forehead.
"Do it," Hai mocked.
The green-haired noble suddenly smirked.
Huh...
In a swift motion, the barrel that was pressed to his forehead fell. The noble aimed down at Hai's kneecap.
Ahaha! What a tool! The noble couldn't bear the thought of killing another person, so he changed his aim to a non-lethal shot! Hai smugly celebrated inwardly. He was confident in taking a chunk of iron in his brain! He could of course--
Wait, the knee?
Sea god's shite-box.
With a bang, the hot metal feeling seared up and down Hai's entire leg. He felt his body begin to plummet to the ground, "That's not fair! Why?! WHY THE KNEE??!?"
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