Lone: The Wanderer [Rewrite]

Congratulations! The host has successfully gained enlightenment and ranked up. The host is now a D-ranker.

Lone was peacefully waiting at his campfire for Sophie and Breena to return as that system notification floated in front of his eyes.

"I wonder if I ranked up when I killed him like with the Manasilk Spider Queen or after I killed him like with the Blue Orc Chieftain... " Depending on what the answer to that question was it would influence if he had gained any levels or not from the kill.

Not seeing any reason to wait to find out, Lone pulled up his status.

Status Name:Lone ImmortusSex:Male Age:24Level:200 [+1] Species:FoxkinRank:D [Up from E] Race:Golden Foxkin HP:52,390/52,390 [+12,040]SP:131/59,050 [+15,030] MP:40,490/40,490 Basic Stats Strength:2,900 [+64]Vigour:5,239 [+1,204] Dexterity:2,134 [+52]Agility:3,061 [+92] Vitality:5,905 [+1,503]Luck:168 [+8] Secret Stats Charm:122 [+42]Charisma:132 [+83] Magic Power:4,049

"No levels beyond the mandatory one and no magic either. A lot of Vit and Vig, also a sizable amount of Charm and Charisma," Lone muttered. "So I ranked up after the kill then. Oh well. Plenty of stuff out there to kill to level me up to the next cap."

He wasn't torn up over the lost opportunity but something about his tone was deeply... troubled. "I guess he was a tank-class? Social tank-class? He's given me the most secret stats besides Magic Power out of anything I've killed so far..."

"I wonder what class I'd be categorised as in a game? Maybe a DPS? Could be a tank too even though I have shit defense only great self-healing... More specifically I bet I'd be labelled as an assassin-type DPSer with a spellcasting side-class," Lone said with an unspirited chuckle. "Well, no spellcasting side-class with my mana organs sealed, at least."

Suddenly, the air next to him shifted as both Sophie and Breena materialised. "The king?" Sophie asked.

Lone gestured to the bloodstains on the ground. "That's what's left of him, the rest is in my Dimensional Storage."

Sophie nodded. "How many did it take?"

"Four," Lone answered before asking, "Did a seal lift?"

"Yes, Unique Magic: Barrier Magic," Sophie replied immediately.

Lone narrowed his eyes. "That's twice now a seal has lifted after two rank ups. Maybe it is every second one... Anyway, let's go. I have no idea if the dukes or maybe even the army itself is coming after us. The king said all four dukes were going after Gilbert but I have no idea if he was just trying to upset me or not."

"It does not matter," Sophie said coldly. "We must first care for ourselves. Gilbert is strong and had a Djinn's wish with him. He will be fine."

Lone frowned. "I hope so."

Breena had no idea what the two were talking about for most of that conversation. 'Four? Four what? Seals? As in, magic seals? I don't think they're talking about fat seadogs...'

Regardless, she stayed quiet and watched as Lone stood up. "You look about as tired as I am, Sophie, and I've been awake for many, many days. No more teleporting. Can you run?"

"Yes, but can she?" Sophie asked, pointing to Breena.

"I'll carry her," Lone said as he approached the young Foxkin. "Princess, fireman or piggyback?"

"Uh... um... sorry?" Breena was rather confused.

"Pick one," Lone said, choosing not to elaborate.

'What's a fireman? A fire wizard? A man made of fire?' the nervous girl thought as she hesitantly replied, "... Princess?"

Lone nodded and immediately scooped the girl up into his arms, resulting in her freezing in shock and squealing a bit in surprise.

"Sorry. I know you likely have a phobia of guys after that Daisuke prick but this is necessary. Trust that I'm only touching you to help you," Lone said softly as he began running, matching his pace to Sophie's who was surprisingly agile despite her armour.

Instead of answering, Breena closed her eyes tightly and tried her best to fight off the coming hyperventilation she sensed was creeping upon her.

Many hours later the trio had exited the forest and the sun could be seen slowly rising from the distant east, illuminating the land ahead.

A few hours in, Sophie had elected to remove her armour and have Lone store it to help her conserve stamina. After all, not more than an hour ago the three of them had stopped running and started walking.

There was no good reason to continue wearing the bulky metal plate. It was only serving to make her sweat.

There were no signs of any sorts of pursuers, dukes or otherwise as they fled. Thus, to further conserve stamina and to help with Breena's comfort levels, they had stopped moving so quickly.

Lone looked to the sky as he used his flat palm as a sun guard and said, "This should be the border region between Milindo and the Estoplian Wasteland. Another hour of walking or so and we'll properly be out of Milindo's reasonable realm of reach. I think we should find a good spot in the desert and then I'll set up my fort and we relax and rest for 2-days before moving towards the nearest dwarven stronghold - the one on the other side of the wasteland."

Sophie nodded. "We are more than fine with this. We could use some sleep. Some of our MP has recovered while we were passing through that forest, of course. It is not much but it is just enough to get us a mile or two into the wasteland. Should we?"

"Please," Lone answered.

Nodding, the girl grabbed Lone and Breena's wrists and then they vanished. A few moments later Sophie was covered in sweat and all three of them could immediately feel the morning sun blasting down onto their pale skin.

Lone wasted no time and took out his portable fort. Sadly, he couldn't use his MP so wasn't able to cover the place in an Illusionary Dome. "Fingers crossed no monsters, raiders or traders find us. I'd rather not see another person for a while."

He turned to Sophie and Breena before saying, "You two head in. Have a bath if you've the energy, otherwise find a bed and collapse in it. There should be cold water in the bathroom. Sadly, I can't heat any of it for the foreseeable future."

Sophie sighed and rolled her shoulder with her hand. "We shall have a bath, we think." She approached Lone and whispered into his ear, "We can't suppress her anymore. She will be in control after we sleep and awaken."

Lone nodded. "That's fine."

"W-What will you do?" Breena asked gingerly.

He smiled, showing the bags beneath his eyes. "I'll keep watch. Sophie can't if she's asleep."

"Oh... Okay..." The teenaged Crimson Foxkin looked around a bit hesitantly before saying, "T-Thank you. For, uh, for saving me... from the h-hero and thank you for agreeing... to, um, bring me home..."

"That's delayed, is it not?" Sophie asked. "Regardless, we are heading in. This heat is insufferable."

Breena quickly followed behind her after bowing her head at Lone who simply stood still. He sighed faintly then jumped up onto the fort's roof with ease.

"5-days without sleep... This can't go on..." Lone muttered.

His eyes were heavy but the blissful state of unconsciousness wouldn't find him for long even if he allowed it. "Those kids..." Youthful faces filled with fear, resignation, acceptance and blood flashed through his mind.

Shaking his head, Lone said to himself, "I need a distraction... Right, Gilbert gave me that orb to talk to him, didn't he? I should see how he's doing... There's no way the dukes got him, right?"

He rooted through his Dimensional Storage and found the communication orb. "So how do I use this? Do I just... will it?"

As soon as those words left his mouth the ball in the palm of his hand lit up with a bright hue of aqua.

Grimsley's breath was about as ragged as his body considering the state his back was in. He could only sigh in relief, however, when he successfully made it to the small island he'd spied in the distance.

Duke Grindol flopping about like a dying fish all the while didn't make things easier, that was for sure. "Gae us yer sword!" he screamed at the soaking wet and still-panicking duke.

Confusion and hesitation flashed across the SS-ranker's face. "Why?"

"Fookin' gae it 'ere!" Grimsley demanded again. "Ah need tae use it tae cauterise this cunt's wounds! Ma pick doesnae 'ave the right shape fae it."

Hesitation flashed across the duke's expression. 'We're finally on land now... I can't believe I relied on a lowly demi to save my life! He's not even all that powerful, for the Primals' sake... If I don't give him my sword, Guildmaster Elksworth will die, won't he? Perfect. With him gone, I won't have anything to worry about as I plot my escape from this island and return to Mil-'

"If ya dinnae 'and over 'at fuckin' toothpick of ah weapon, then ah'll nae make us ah ship tae get the fook oof this rock! We'll all die togeth'r so stop bein' a fookin' babby an' do as a tell ya tae!" Grimsley yelled intimidatingly.

"Yes, sir. It's all yours, sir," the duke gave in. Pride was one thing, his crippling inability to swim nor craft a ship was another. Why give up a perfectly good avenue of escape when cooperating was so easily justified?

"Fookin' finally," Grimsley grumbled as he snatched the weapon from the man. 'Fookin' idjit. As if a blacksmith kens 'ow tae make ah ship. This sword's well balanced but honestly, it's a piece ah piss. Ah can see it snapping in a year or two even with good maintenance. Bet 'at elf skank was the one 'oo forged it.'

Grimsley brought the weapon's flat side to Gilbert's profusely bleeding and now charred-black eyeball first. "Reforging Temperature," he invoked.

The sword's blade quickly turned red and seared the skin on Gilbert's face, forcing a grimace and grunt to emerge before suddenly Gilbert was roused from his unconsciousness and screamed at the top of his lungs. "AHHHHH!"

Shana just about collapsed on her behind, such was the force put behind Gilbert's pained yell. Very quickly both she and her uncle found their surroundings to be suffocating and tense beyond measure. "Bastard's unleashin' 'is aura! Gil, can ya 'ear me?! Ya need tae stop! Ah'm tryin' tae 'elp ya!"

Grimsley could see illusionary stones and coiling vines spewing forth from the dragonkin's body and they weren't stopping. "Fook! Oi, Duke, ye'r an SS-ranker tae! Stop 'is aura fae leakin' like a loose arsehole!"

"H-He's a lot stronger than me on a 1-to-1 basis. He likely has far more levels than I and is closer to reaching triple-S-rank so I don't-" he stopped mid-sentence upon seeing the glare being shot his way by a particularly bearded dwarf, "... so I don't think that I shouldn't try to suppress it!"

A rack of incorporeal longswords and bucklers appeared over Duke Grindol's head before they rushed to fight off Gilbert's spewing aura.

Strain and sweat gushed out of the nobleman's face as he said, "This is as best as I can do!"

Grimsley could breathe again so it was better than nothing even if he felt like a mountain was pressing against his already injured back. "Shana, 'old 'im doon! 'E's thrashin' about tae much!"

The girl did as told and clasped her hands on Gilbert's shoulder, struggling to keep him from moving as violently as he was trying to.

Grimsley then, with much difficulty, cauterised both the entry and exit sword wound on Gilbert's back and chest respectively. When that was done, he ripped out the three arrows lodged in his gut and cauterised their wounds too.

With all of that accomplished, Grimsley ripped his shirt apart and used it to bandage the rest of Gilbert's shallow wounds. "Almost done..." he grumbled. "Disinfect."

He thanked his many years of working as a mining apprentice before finding his love for smithing. Without the time spent in the horrendously filthy miner's barracks in his mother krieg, he'd never have learned such a useful regular skill like Disinfect.

Panting and exhausted, Grimsley sat by Gilbert's side. "Ah 'ope the cunt's natural healin' is strong enuff tae close up 'is internal wounds... 'Ere's fook all ah can do aboot those..."

The White Dragonkin in question had soon lost consciousness again with the pain from his wounds being closed no longer being present, so Shana and Duke Grindol weren't forced to restrain him either.

Shana was instead lying down on his back with her eyes closed, clearly trying to catch her breath. Holding an SS-ranker down, even a magic-focused one who was heavily injured was no small task for someone as weak as her.

Duke Grindol was crying over his sword. The weapon's blade was dripping all over the place as it bent in a weird angle. Grimsley had absolutely ruined the thing.

Just as he thought he had a moment to rest, Grimsley noticed a bright blue glow burst out of one of the pockets of Gilbert's tattered robes. "Ah, fookin' Primals... What noo?"