Book 2: Chapter 1: Tired and Cauterising

Book 2: Chapter 1: Tired and Cauterising

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?"

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?"