Lone: The Wanderer [Rewrite]

"Ha-ah..." Gilbert cracked his neck as he slumped deeply into his chair. "Finally... That's the brunt of the paperwork out of the way..."

He hung his head over the back of his seat as he sighed once more. "I swear, immunity to ageing or not, this damned paperwork will kill me one day..."

The next moment he sensed what felt like an explosion of mana coming from the housing floor of The Adventurer's Guild which he was in. "What on Altros was that? I've never felt mana that strong before..."

It was rare for mana to be detectable at a distance in the first place, let alone on a scale as large as this. "Anyone with even a lick of MP is going to sense that massive outburst... Lone, I swear to the Primals, if you've only gone and made more paperwork for me again... I'll wring your bloody neck for it!"

Immediately following that declaration Soph appeared in Gilbert's office with a tear and snot covered face. She slapped her hands against his desk and screamed, "Lo-Lone is- I- Lone- Help!"

"In the name of the Primals!" the several-century-years-old White Dragonkin almost jumped out of his skin.

It wasn't every day that a little girl crying her heart out while trying to form a cohesive sentence amidst sobs teleported into his office, after all.

"Slow down, Sophie. What's the fool gone and done this time?" Gilbert took a moment to straighten his posture and it was only then that he noticed the dazzling splendour that was the set of beautiful green eyes staring at him as they produced tears en masse.

The atmosphere around the girl shifted, though Gilbert hardly noticed considering the circumstances. Sophie, now in control, wiped her face and said, "The idiot overused his mana organs. He's unconscious and his body keeps spasming non-stop. We need your help."

A serious look overtook the guildmaster's expression. "He did what? That fucking idiot!"

This was the first time that Sophie had heard the usually composed and slightly grumpy man swear. Suffice to say, she was surprised. "Can you help him?"

Gilbert shook his head. "I haven't a clue. As far as I know, damage to mana organs is permanent. We have soul oracles who can help heal souls, but mana organs? I doubt even the Primals could fix those. They're beyond intangible. Quickly, take me to him. We're wasting time. I might not be able to save his mana organs, but his life? Well, we'll see."

Sophie nodded and grabbed the man. The next moment the two of them were gone from the office and appeared next to the unconscious Lone.

"By the Primals..." Gilbert's jaw just about hit the floor. "He's like a well. A bottomless and empty well... Just what did he do?" the man asked as he quickly began checking Lone's pulse and some of his other vitals.

Sophie frowned in hesitation but ultimately saw no reason to avoid the truth here, especially since Gilbert could detect lies. Unlike Lone, she wasn't able to weave the truth to tell a lie.

"He cured our blindness..." Sophie admitted.

"He did what? How? He's no master nature or healing mage! The church would be all over him trying to brainwash or enslave him if he were," the guildmaster said.

Sophie looked down at her suffering lover and answered, "He has a unique skill called Creation Magic. He has used it before to create items that drained him of all of his mana, but never to a degree like this. According to him, he can also use the skill to repair things. Seemingly, he can also change the nature of things too, as evidenced by the fact that we are no longer blind."

Gilbert wished he'd never asked. "Of course it's a unique skill... And your Teleportation is the same I assume?" Sophie nodded. "Ha-ah... So he isn't a Golden Foxkin from Altros then... Only summoned heroes have unique skills..."

"Does that matter right now?" Sophie asked a bit impatiently. Lone was still shaking violently and he refused to stop moaning in pain.

Gilbert chuckled sadly. "No, I suppose not." He put his hand on Lone's head and then a confused look overtook his expression. "What? How on Altros is there no damage to his brain?"

"Should there be?" Sophie asked.

"Should there be? Hah! His brain should be a puddle by now! I'm assuming he had about 20,000 MP, maybe 30 or 40,000 tops. What I felt him use? Easily ten times that. His mana organs most-definitely exploded. Usually, in extreme accidents like this the physical brain and heart suffer backlash - the former more so than the latter. Best-case scenario, you've just depleted all of your MP, not overused your mana organs. In that case, you may be lucky enough to learn Mental Pain Resistance from the physical and magical backlash." Gilbert slowly rubbed Lone's head like a concerned father might.

"This idiot... I once overused my mana organs myself, y'know?" he claimed. "I wanted to show my parents and my uncles and aunts that I was ready to leave the clan. I was bedridden for 3-months and I permanently lost over a third of my Magic Power. Now when I level up if I would have originally gained 30 Magic Power, now I only gain 20. I am crippled, in a sense."

"Calming Chime," he cast. A small green astral bell appeared and hovered over Lone before it began ringing lightly. Lone's spasms seemed to calm a bit and he groaned slightly less frequently as well.

"What Lone has done is beyond comprehension. Not only is his physical body fine, but I can actually sense his mana organs slowly being rebuilt. If I'm not crazy and they're actually healing by some Primal-given miracle, then I believe he'll be fine. When, however, I do not know. Sophie, how on Altros is he doing this?" Gilbert asked with genuine concern in his tone.

Sophie creased her brows. "You already know enough to be a serious cause for concern, so we see no reason to hide more from you. Lone possesses another unique skill. It allows him to passively heal any injuries he sustains."

Gilbert just about passed out on top of the unconscious Lone right then and there. "Just who have I gotten myself involved with?"

"What the fook'll ah do from 'ere?" Grimsley asked himself as he sat next to his niece, Shana, who still had yet to wake despite being perfectly healed and freed of her slave collar and its contract - according to Lone at least.

His smithy was nothing but smouldering ruins. Chances were that the industrious slummers had looted it for anything that still remained and had then rebuilt it into more slums.

"Ah've nae money, nae contacts, nae strength, nae any'ing." The man sighed into his beard deeply as he looked down at his niece. "Well, at least ah've still got ye, ay, wee Shana?"

He smiled faintly as he muttered, "We owe the daft laddie the world we do. Fookin' eejit almost died an' ended up as a slave tae save us, an' what does he ask fae in return? Fookin' naught. Ah'd rather the cunt was a wee bit greedy. A tangible debt's a hell ah a lot easier tae face than one 'at ya never ken when it'll rear its ugly head..."

"... Uncle Grim?" a soft voice called out in confusion.

Grimsley's eyes opened wide in alarm. "Shana? Shana! Ye'r awake! Fookin' thank the Primals... Ma old heart was damn-near sure ya'd never open yer eyes again..."

A very quiet laugh escaped the girl's throat. "You're still young by dwarf standards... What... What happened with the hero? Where are we, Uncle?"

"Yer accents all but gone, Lass. Just another thing the fookin' hero stole from ya, ah suppose..." Grimsley scratched his head and tried his best to not appear angry. "It's a wee bit of a long story...."

Shana slowly raised her hands to her neck and was surprised to find that her slave collar was gone. All logic would dictate that Daisuke had either released her or that he had died, resulting in her consequential freedom. "We have time, don't we?"

"Aye, Lass, 'at we do. We've got it in spades," Grimsley replied. "Christ this is gonna take mer than a minute or two..."

"Christ?" That was a word she'd never heard of before.

"Ah, mannerism ah picked up fae Lone. Strange lad, 'at one. Ah can see 'at look in your eye. Curious as a goblin, though a million times prettier ya are," Grimsley teased.

"Uncle..." Shana didn't seem best impressed.

Grimsley laughed heartily. "Aye, aye. Ah'll explain in due time. First though, kidnappin' ya back fae that cunt wae a face like an arse wasnae a small task, lemme tell ya..."

"Come on, is this really all you have? £3.50?"

"Isn't your dad the owner of that PC factory on the other side of town?"

"What a fuckin' loser. We can't even afford a decent lunch with this."

A boy who had quite clearly been punched in the face and tripped to the ground wiped his cheeks as he cried his eyes out. "I'm sorry... Please, leave me alone. I never did anything to you guys..."

"Did I say you could speak? Fuck me, you're pathetic."

"Hey, let's finish this up and head to Gary's. I'm dying for a fag and some Jack. Can hardly light one out here or get sloshed."

"Right, right. A few more hits and we should be good."

Not long after that, the boy walked home with bruises all along his arms and across his face. He stood outside of the door to his family home and then took a deep breath. "Halfway done..." he muttered as pushed open the door. "I-I'm home..." he said as quietly as a mouse.

No one answered, as expected. His little sister was likely playing with her friends at the park and his mother could be anywhere from a friend's house to the salon, really.

Not wanting to take any risks, the boy quickly kicked off his shoes and made a break for the stairs. He'd be safe in his room. He could hide there and escape his inevitable fate, surely.

Alas, the boy wasn't as lucky as he wished he might have been.

"Darren? That you?" a rough voiced called as some crashing noises came from the living room.

A chill went up the boy's spine. He closed his eyes and sprinted as fast as his beaten body would take him. He only got four steps up the stairs before a large hand had placed itself on his shoulder, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Oi, is that any way to greet your father, you ungrateful little shit?!" his father screamed into his ear.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't- I- I need to d-do my homework... I-I-"

"'I-I-I-I,' grow a fucking backbone, you coward!" A thunderous slap rang across the boy's cheek. Were it not for the fact that he was still being held by his father's other hand then the force alone might have sent him flying into the stairwell's wall.

"Back in my day you'd have said 'No, Sir. Sorry, Sir. You're right, Sir, not this fucking chicken-shit, Boy!" The young teen could feel himself losing consciousness. If not from the pain, then from the smell of alcohol coming from his father mouth.

"I'd have half a mind to beat some sense into ya right here right now. No son of mine should be a spineless idiot, after all," he said then slapped the boy yet again, followed by a punch to the ribs. "Look! You're already crying! This was normal in my day, Boy. You're fucking lucky I ain't unbuckling my belt and whipping your hands with it!"

"I-I'm sorry! It hurts. Dad, I'm sorry. Please, stop! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!"

"It's supposed to hurt, you noisy little bastard! How else are you meant to learn if it doesn't hurt?!" his father yelled back.

"It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!... It hurts... It... hurts... It..."

"It hurts!" Lone hollered at the top of his lungs and his torso sprung up and he began panting heavily.

Sophie - who was calmly sitting at his bedside looked over at him in surprise. "We are glad you're finally awake. It has been 4-days, you fool. We recall promising to punch you hard enough to dislocate your jaw should you make Soph cry ever again. Not a moment has passed where tears weren't gushing out of her eyes like a waterfal- Wait, why are you crying?"

"Huh?" Lone hurriedly wiped his eyes. "I, uh, had a bad dream."

"Those are called nightmares. We see you're still a bit frazzled. As expected, we suppose." Sophie sighed. "Your punch shall have to wait until later."

She got up and then briskly grabbed Lone's collar before pulling him in for a deep kiss. "We were worried for you, Lone."

"Than-"

"Also, never do that again. Or, if you must, do not fall unconscious again. We swear, this is the last time we take care of cleaning you due to you stupidly getting yourself into a coma," Sophie threatened menacingly. "We have changed your underwear enough times for several lifetimes. You are no baby, stop making me treat you like one."

"Ahaha... Uh, sure. I'll try," Lone laughed as he scratched his head awkwardly. He was glad to be back to reality.