Lone: The Wanderer [Rewrite] - Book 2: Chapter 87: Exiles and Cursed

Book 2: Chapter 87: Exiles and Cursed

Hazel was initially shocked to see her friends appearing out of nowhere, but she quickly realised that the girl who was likely only a few years her senior – the one that had brought her here as well – must have some sort of spatial magic and had used that to collect her friends.

Considering the distance and speed at which she had transported herself and her friends, this Soph-slash-Sophie person must be powerful indeed, Hazel reckoned.

‘But… Emma and George have met her before. She was supposedly Darren’s master, right? A young noblewoman of some sort… How could she be a powerful space mage too? Wouldn’t my brother not have been imprisoned both at Milindo and here in the first place if that were the case?’ Hazel thought.

She wanted to rely on her unique skill to peek into the blonde armoured woman’s mind and see if any of her thoughts would give her some answers.

The temptation to stop focusing on suppressing her Mind Reading from passively rooting through the heads of everyone present was strong. She cared more about her brother than her curiosity, however.

It did shock her though how much she craved for her skill to give her information when she usually spent most of her time cursing it for the things it forced her to be privy to.

Regardless, her brother had defences that worked against her skill, even if they were apparently being bested by her slowly. For obvious reasons, he didn’t want her to access his mind.

The fact he even knew at all that she’d even been passively trying to get into it scared Hazel enough to not give in to her selfish desires for more context and answers.

She watched as her brother started walking off with the well-informed dwarf, the timid foxkin teen, and the short blonde-haired woman who was much too beautiful for her own good.

‘If she and my brother are an item, then he struck gold. She’s way out of his league,’ Hazel thought before she glanced at her older brother again. ‘Then again, he’s not the same person he used to be, is he? His face is the same, but he looks more handsome somehow. Confidence, maybe?’

Hazel glanced at her confused and scared friends – minus the absolutely fuming Scott – and said, “We should follow him. I don’t know how to get out of here besides whatever skill she used,” she said, pointing to Soph-slash-Sophie, “do any of you?”

Hesitant head shakes met her in response. “Then let’s go.”

Emma happily skipped ahead to match Hazel’s pace. George soon trailed after his fellow nobleborn even if his terror of the armoured woman was plain as day.

Meanwhile, Alisa sighed at Scott who was clenching his fists before saying softly, “We have no other choice, so we may as well go with them. Unless you want me to get us out? I’d really rather not. Random sucks.”

The shit brickhouse that was Scott bit his lip in frustration but slowly came around. “Fine.”

Hazel noticed Lone and the young foxkin’s ears twitching while the dwarf had raised an eyebrow. ‘All three of them heard that? But Alisa is so softly spoken and we’re, like, 20-metres apart… What about the crazy one? Did she hear that too? She didn’t react like she did…’

A few minutes of silent travel down the farwind they were on passed before Scott asked, “Is he your brother, then? I gotta admit, he looks a lot like Mister McCullen if Mister McCullen was ripped, had clear skin, and was a furry.”

Her brother who now liked to go by ‘Lone Immortus’ burst out laughing, obviously amused by Scott’s words. His outburst had surprised all of Hazel’s friends, clearly, none of them had picked up on that group’s collective advanced hearing.

Hazel coughed and said, “Um, yeah, he is. He confirmed it before you guys… arrived. He can, as you just saw, hear us. Foxkin have sensitive ears apparently.”

“That’s interesting,” George noted. “I wish I knew more about the other sentient species of Altros… Milindo was too closed off from the rest of the world.”

No one disagreed with him on that point. Their little group of five shared small talk as best as they could given the odd circumstances of their kidnapping.

Before long, the dwarf had stopped the group ahead, so within moments both groups had joined up.

The man her brother had called ‘Hamish’ when he had confirmed her strength level – a thing she knew B-rankers and above could do – said, “This is it. ‘Bout 500 or so metres down this branchin’ path is the entrance tae the urd.”

Her brother nodded. “Soph?”

Somehow knowing his request without even hearing it, the young woman beamed a smile at him and then disappeared.

“Any guesses on their ranks and numbers, Hamish?” Lone asked.

The dwarf shrugged sadly. “What’s the feckin’ point with ‘at monster doin’ the job fae ya?”

‘Monster?’ Hazel noted. ‘Is this Soph or Sophie or whoever she is some human-shaped monster of some sort? But Darren seemed so wary of me before confirming I wasn’t such a monster myself. Would he really have one as a friend?’

She got goosebumps remembering her brother’s hand being wrapped around her neck, ready to crush her windpipe and kill her at the drop of a hat.

“I’ll give you a gold coin if you’re within 20% of Soph’s report, if you’re not, you give me a gold coin,” Lone suggested.

Hazel and the rest of her group baulked at the amount of wealth being casually bet.

‘T-That’s enough money for months of food and board at our inn in Golden Pass City,’ Hazel estimated with a nervous gulp.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be a prisoner down here?” Alisa asked faintly.

Scott nodded. “Suspicious he has that much money and is, y’know, here instead of in a cell.”

Lone dismissively waved at them. “I’ll explain once I’ve cleared the urd out and we have a proper talk, but short answer? I am technically a prisoner, I’m just doing some community service enforced by magical scriptures. I’m also filthy fuckin’ rich.”

‘What’s a magical scripture?’ Hazel wondered, that hidden eagerness to use her unique skill rearing its head once more.

“An’ ah’m nae,” Hamish grumbled. “But aye, ah can afford ah single coin. Ah’ll say 132 dwarves an’ maybe ah couple ah golems? Dunno how well off these exiles are nor ‘ow sane. Word was ‘at ‘ey got touched by the Deep.”

‘His accent is as thick as grandma and grandpas,’ Hazel commented internally. ‘I thought we could understand any language perfectly, but now I’m starting to doubt that. Also, what’s ‘the Deep’?’

Luckily, her brother shared her ignorance. “What’s ‘the Deep’? Haven’t read about that in Krieg Moor’s library.”

Hamish shrugged. “Ken the Farwinds, aye? Well, afore Epitome Brugar carved ’em oot, the dwarven races shared what they called ‘ome wae some nasty feckin’ critters. It were ah place far, far deep’r ‘an the Farwinds. Dinnae ken its original name, but it goes by the Deepwinds noo. Madness meets all who venture doon there. Surprised ya didnae ken ‘at. All merc groups an’ adventurer companies get teld straight by the cooncil.”

Lone stroked his short beard in contemplation. “Maybe it’s hush-hush so two-bit glory seekers don’t go kill themselves. I’ll look into this later. Anyway, the rest of your guess?”

“Ah, well, as fae rank? Ah’d wager at least three-fourths’re D-rankers, ah couple dozen’re C-rankers, maybe ah handful’re B-rankers, an’ the big man leadin’ the band’ll be an A-ranker. It takes ‘at much at least tae illegally take over an urd, even an abandoned one.”

“Yeah, pretty weak group,” Lone commented nonchalantly.

“That’s pretty weak?” Scott exclaimed in an angered whisper. “If that’s weak, then we’re less than ants.”

Hazel was confused. ‘Both Emma and George said my brother was barely able to beat the crown prince and the hero of Milindo during the annual tournament. What changed? Could he possibly have gotten infinitely stronger in such a short time? How? Does he have a unique skill? That healing of his? That wouldn’t be enough… Maybe Emma and George remembered wrong?’

She didn’t know where his confidence came from but she supposed she’d find out soon.

Appearing out of thin air, the armoured woman known by her brother as Soph, wore a cheerful expression on her face as she said, “122 dwarves, 87 male, 35 female. Primary weapon of choice seems to be the hammer or the axe, but I’m not too sure since most of them are just doing day-to-day tasks, not fighting or anything. Though they do have this look in their eyes… Anyway! As for strength, based on their magic, we’ve got 104 C-rankers, 12 B-rankers, and a half dozen A or S-rankers. I dunno. I haven’t seen the magic of enough A and S-rankers to tell the difference between the two yet.”

‘Seen the magic?’ Hazel found that phrase to be incredibly interesting. ‘What does that mean? Is that what the dwarf meant by ‘monster’? Is she some sort of creature that can see magic itself? That sounds amazing and terrifying. Can she see my Mind Reading? Is that even magic? If so, why didn’t she react like Darren did when he discovered it?’

“It’s good enough,” Lone praised as he shot the short woman a smile Hazel had never seen him make before. “Great job, Soph.”

‘What emotion was that?’ the young girl thought.

Hamish began swearing up a storm like a sailor. “Was on the money fae ‘eadcount, but way off fae strength. Feck.”

Lone cracked his neck and grinned. “We can double or nothing later if you’d like. Maybe I’ll get Gambling Mastery off of you or something?”

“Ah, feck off. Ya wan’ ah skill like ‘at, go earn it in ah gamblin’ hall. Piss oof an’ clear oot the urd, ya cheeky git,” the dwarf retorted as he rummaged about in his adventurer’s pouch – an expensive accessory – and then tossed a coin with a golden glint Lone’s way.

“Will do. Fingers crossed they’ll go peacefully, otherwise, with those ranks, expect me to be a C-ranker real soon,” Lone said as he snatched the coin out of the air and pocketed it.

He then moved so fast that Hazel wasn’t able to tell he had left until she blinked and noticed he was simply gone.

“He… He’s only a D-ranker? How can he be so confident in killing six A or S rankers?” Hazel asked, worry clear in her voice. “And how is he so fast?”

Hamish shrugged. “Beats me. Only time ah’ve ever actually seen ‘im fight was against maself, an’ ah hardly ken ‘is stats or skill list.”

The dwarf was hiding something, Hazel knew that much, but what, she had no idea. Clearly, the man didn’t trust her nor her friends nearly as much as he did her brother.

The young foxkin girl didn’t respond but Soph did. “Lone is strong enough to effortlessly kill SS-rankers. If he went all out, he could probably beat an SSS-ranker too. He’s stupid though. He avoids using his strongest skills to ‘push’ himself. Me and my other personality have been working hard to make him stop doing that!”

Hazel frowned. “Other personality?”

Soph shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“Right…” She wasn’t convinced.

What was so complicated about being crazy? Split-personality disorder was a real thing, after all. Maybe she’d learn more once they were inside the urd and could talk properly.

‘Please, be safe, brother. I… I don’t want to lose you after having just found you again even… even with all of this weirdness,’ Hazel prayed.

“Yup, definitely locked,” Lone said as he put a hand on his hip and began considering his options.

He was currently at the entrance to the urd and was wondering if he should just break his way in or if it would be worth his time trying to pick the lock.

The door was much like most major entrances down here in the Farwinds. It was a set of double doors roughly five or six metres tall and just as many metres wide, presumably to allow carriage passage.

There was a small door inside of the larger left part of the gate that was meant for simple personal access without the entire thing needing to be opened. That small door was what Lone was considering picking or just outright destroying.

“I mean, I do like the sound of a new skill,” he mumbled with a nod of the head before he retrieved two of the numerous backup needles he had in his Dimensional Storage intended for Breena.

She rarely broke her needles and had a steady supply from the elven tailor that employed both her and Soph to this day, but still, contingencies were never unwise.

Squatting down, closing one eye as he looked into the lock with the other, Lone stuck out his tongue in concentration and shoved the pair of precision tools into the contraption before he began to shimmy the needles around carefully.

He had no idea how to pick a lock. Who in the modern age of Earth did, honestly? Sure, he’d watched a Youtube video or two but they hardly covered dwarven locking mechanisms.

And even if they did, Lone’s memory wasn’t perfect. At least, not yet it wasn’t. A few more attempts at forcing his mental locks into becoming memory banks might fix that.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long to see results. Not from the lock itself, gods no. That had jammed up and become completely unpickable thanks to his valiant if wasted efforts. That made sense, really, given his knowledge of opening locked locks.

No, the result he got was that a new skill had been added to his ever-growing collection.

The host has developed the passive skill [Lockpicking Mastery].

Lockpicking Mastery

A skill common among thieves and footpads alike. No good rogue doesn’t have this skill in their arsenal.

Boosts the steadiness of the host’s hands by 5% and makes it 5% more intuitive for the host to pick any and all physical locks.

Cost:N/A Mastery:Beginner Level 1

“I do like the mention of physical locks. That implies non-physical ones exist and that at a higher rank, this skill may help with those too,” Lone speculated before he pushed on his knees as he stood back up. “The steadiness boost is general, too. Doesn’t that make this a must-have skill for surgeons?”

He interlaced his fingers then raised his hands over his head and stretched as he laughed softly at his thinking. Lone then accessed his Dimensional Storage to return the two needles – one of which was snapped now. He also withdrew a steel swordspear and a bucket of blood.

He was fully intent on using his tails to kill today. He would listen to Soph and Sophie, no more holding back to farm skills. However, just in case he needed it, he was going to bring a swordspear with him.

Summoning his Blood Clone which was about equal in size to a small orange now, Lone put the bucket away and willed his Bone Armour to appear.

Black, blue, and dark purple, plates of bone covered his body while a spiked buckler appeared attached to his right wrist.

He wasn’t going to hold back here even one slight modicum. “Offer a chance to leave, kill on sight if I get attacked first. Should be over quickly enough…”

He took a deep breath and then nodded.

“Pierce,” Lone invoked as he attacked the doorway.

It was a shame to damage such a beautiful work of art since the door had carvings all along its structure, but he had to get in somehow.

The door of metal and stone popped clean off its hinges. An expert level of mastery wasn’t to be underestimated, after all.

With a confident stride, Lone entered the urd and almost immediately found two dwarven men staring at him in a mixture of shock and horror.

There was a sickeningly human element in their expressions, almost as if they were regretful and guilty to even be seeing him, regardless of the threat he posed to them.

They had blood-red eyes and their veins pulsed wildly with some sort of black substance, implying tainted blood. Tainted by or with what, Lone had no idea.

He eyed the men carefully. ‘Now, are you boys corrupted by the Deep, or did you just invest in some questionable aesthetic choices? May as well see if there’s a person still behind those eyes.’

“Tell your leader that I’m offering the chance for all of you to leave this place peacefully as I have no personal grudge against you lot, I just need a safe place to spend the day and this urd will fit that bill when you exiles are gone,” Lone said.

As if in reaction to his voice, the two men screamed a bloodcurdling howl before lunging at him. They were pitifully slow in his eyes, leading Lone to believe they must be C-rankers or very weak B-rankers.

With a sigh, he whispered, “Well, I guess you can thank me later for saving you from whatever the fuck did this to you two.”

“Tail Spear,” he invoked. ‘I’ve got 20 minutes and three more uses If I need them, so a little less than an hour and a half to kill everyone that’s like these guys. Should be plenty.’

With Tail Spear’s effective range of lower SS-ranked beings and with his backup of Mental Destruction, nothing that attacked him on this day would see tomorrow’s coming.

The two dwarves swung at Lone who was stationary only to issue out confused snarls when their axes bounced off of his Bone Armour.

One mumbled, “Feed the rise, empty the bones…”

The other chuckled madly. “Drink the marrow, join the One…”

Lone shivered. Something about their words genuinely frightened him and he had no idea why which only terrified him even more. It was a primal feeling as if the words when spoken by these particular individuals were simply wrong.

Without wasting another moment, he proceeded to cut off their heads with his tails in one smooth motion. He didn’t want to damage their gear since he could have it sold at a later time assuming it wasn’t just as ruined as they themselves had been.

Lone quickly stored the bodies of the two men before proceeding further into the urd at a quick jog. He did take a note that their blood was mostly black, only having a trace amount of the usual red dwarves had pumping through their veins.

‘The Deep, huh? Definitely gonna try researching this later,’ Lone thought. ‘Might have something to do with the Deep Well that ruined the Sheinling species.’

Minutes passed as he made his way through the urd, killing any exile he ran into on sight. He wasn’t going to risk allowing them to speak those cursed words like the first two had been able to.

That felt like a good descriptor even if Lone knew he was painfully ignorant here. ‘Cursed’. It would do for now, he felt.

It was a bit frustrating though, in truth. He really wanted to earn Buckler Mastery but giving any of these logically stronger individuals the time to attack his wrist-guarding shield would also give them a chance to utter more soul-chilling words.

‘At least I’m getting stats and levels. Happy thoughts, Lone,’ he said to himself as he dispatched a group of five more lunatic dwarves.

He stored their bodies then slowly nodded to himself. “I can definitely take on the rest in one go. Basic Regen should be able to support it now.”

He inhaled deeply and then used his Wide Taunt skill. “Come to me so that I might set you free!”

Congratulations! The host’s active skill [Wide Taunt] has levelled up! It is now Intermediate Level 2.

Congratulations! The host’s active skill [Wide Taunt] has levelled up! It is now Intermediate Level 3.

Congratulations! The host’s active skill [Wide Taunt] has levelled up! It is now Intermediate Level 4.

Congratulations! The host’s active skill [Wide Taunt] has levelled up! It is now Intermediate Level 5.

Happy with the skill improvement, Lone waited in the middle of the urd’s central street for the dwarves to come to him. The sooner he could talk to his sister, the better, hence his expediting of the process of making this urd safe.

Of course, he also had full confidence that he could wipe them all out within seconds of their arrival. Well, perhaps not full confidence considering his plan, but worse come to worst, he wouldn’t die at the very least.

Within mere moments, a chorus of screams that contained little more than pure suffering filled Lone’s ears as four dwarves jumped out from a nearby building at him.

“Survivor’s Speed,” he invoked.

The next moment, four heads and a river of black blood fell onto the street below, followed shortly by the bodies they once belong to.

Lone landed nimbly and nodded. “It’s manageable now so long as I pump SP into Basic Regen. Time to grind it out on these poor souls then, isn’t it?”