Lone: The Wanderer [Rewrite]

Lone glanced around, taking in the remaining challengers in his waiting room. '9 people, huh? Since that was the 64-set that means only 32 contestants remain. I guess my room did well since we have more than a quarter of the remaining participants.'

Lone found the spot he had meditated in previously and happily crossed his legs and closed his eyes. 'Here's hoping my next opponent is some strong-looking dude or maybe someone famous. That'll make losing easier.'

He hadn't consumed any SP in his fight with Clicker since before they could even get serious the old man's hip supposedly started giving out.

It was a boring fight, sure, but it helped Lone conserve some of his SP. He was still hopeful that he wouldn't need to use skills when leaving the kingdom but if his life in this world had taught him anything thus far, it was that being overprepared was far more preferable to being underprepared.

Well, that and speciesism activity matched of Earth‘s racism. Not exactly the best of medals to own.

"Number 301! Number 82! Number 665! Number 21! You're all up!" the guide said with a hand cupped over his mouth to amplify his voice.

Lone peeled his eyes open and looked at his status to check how much time had passed via his SP gained.

Status Name:Lone ImmortusSex:Male Age:24Level:139 Species:FoxkinRank:E Race:Golden Foxkin HP:32,350/32,350SP:32,970/37,620 MP:38,460/38,460 Basic Stats Strength:2,413Vigour:3,235 Dexterity:2,082Agility:2,399 Vitality:3,762Luck:121 Secret Stats Charm:80Charisma:49 Magic Power:3,846

'From 32,820 to 32,970. Exactly 30-minutes. Well, the people directly in charge of rotating fighters sure are efficient. Maybe lucky too. All of the fights ended so quickly... Not unrealistic, granted, but magic and skills kind of fucks with what's normal in a 1v1 fight,' Lone thought as he followed the guide.

He was soon led up onto a stage and he was surprised when he saw his opponent. "I remember you..."

The portly light-skinned man in a magician's outfit furrowed his brow. "Lone Immortus, the man lost in transit. You had a very sharp tongue if I recall."

"I thought he was just a swindler... How did he swindle his way through the battle royale then the 64-set?" Lone said to himself.

"How dare you suggest such a thing!" the tophat-wearing man fumed. "I am a most reputable gentleman of the highest regard! I am Muradon the All-mage! Not some backstreet peddler of false illusions and trickery!... Not anymore, at least."

That last part was mumbled but Lone didn't even notice. He smiled awkwardly as he said, "Uh, that was meant to be internal. Thinking out loud is a bad habit of mine that leaks out on occasion. Sorry. I, uh, look forward to seeing your magic?"

"Well, I'm glad, but unfortunately you won't have the chance!" Confidence rolled off of the middle-aged man like a tidal wave and it startled Lone a bit.

'Is he... not a scammer? Is he suggesting that he'll beat me so fast that I won't even get to see his magic? I hope so. That sounds great. Well, so long as he doesn't seriously injure me. I can't use MP to boost Basic Regeneration right now so taking massive damage should be avoided even if I can probably get away with healing severe wounds enough to still look bad but actually be fine with the passive regen effect,' Lone thought seriously.

"Number 301, Lone Immortus the Ninetailed Foxkin and number 47, Muradon the All-mage! You may now begin your fight after showing respect to one another with a handshake or a bow. Fatal injuries on either side will be punished severely!" the announced declared.

Muradon walked forward, clearly intent on shaking hands. Lone followed suit.

After a firm handshake, the two returned to their positions and Lone entered a defensive stance, ready to deal with any incoming magic with a swift use of Momentum Shift.

It wouldn't do to just stand still and get hit, after all.

Muradon extended his hands grandly and bowed to the crowd. "I, Muradon the All-mage refuse to sully my name by mercilessly defeating a demi! Such a thing is below a man of my reputation! I forfeit!"

Lone's eyes opened wide. "... What?"

"Number 301, Lone Immortus the Ninetailed Foxkin advances to the 16-set!" the announcer yelled, much to the surprise of the crowd.

Their shock didn't last long since some of the other fights in the surrounding rings quickly grasped their interest, but Lone was furious.

"Some 'All-mage' you are!" he yelled. "Fight me, you coward! I would sooner die than win by default!"

Muradon shook his head sadly. "Some things aren't always within my ability to control." He whispered this next part but made sure that Lone could hear it. "I don't know how you pissed them off but you're in some pretty big shit, pal. I wouldn't be surprised when your next opponent forfeits too."

With that said, the portly man waddled off the stage and left the arena.

Lone stood there, fists balled up in rage. 'He was... told to forfeit? By who? The crown? The hero?'

Lone wasn't an idiot and he could immediately tell what was going on were his thoughts truly the case.

He bottled his anger for now and returned to the waiting room. He immediately retreated to his bench and folded his legs to sit in a meditative position.

'I fucked up,' Lone thought. 'Why didn't I think they'd try to rig it?'

He held his head in his hands. 'Shit. I should have let myself get knocked out at the battle royale or forfeited against that weird old man, Clicker... Maybe I can forfeit first in my next match?'

Lone shook his head. 'Unlikely. The announcer is clearly employed by the crown so if they want me to advance and, what, die to the prince or that scumbag then they'll make sure I advance that far, won't they? Petty fucking cunts... I should have just gotten Soph to teleport us as far away as possible in the middle of the night. Trying to appease them was stupid.'

He hung his head back and laughed self-deprecatingly. 'Mental Destruction only guarantees a kill on anyone up to 3 ranks higher than me meaning up to B-rank. I can't fight my way out of here with the certainty that I'll survive, can I?'

Lone stroked his chin in thought. 'Well, let's try to forfeit first. If that doesn't work which it likely won't, then fuck dancing on that shitty king's palm. If I need to fight the prince or the hero or even both of them, then I'll fucking make that shitbag of a king regret forcing me to do so.'

Muradon the All-mage couldn't have left the colosseum any faster even if he wanted to. The moment he'd been paid by the royal guards for giving up the fight, he was out of that building faster than a charged politician out of a courtroom.

'This stupid skill of mine... What was I going to do if it didn't let me forfeit?!' he yelled internally. 'Lone, I don't know specifically who you pissed off or why, but I know for a fact that I don't wanna be anywhere near that building in the next couple of hours.'

"Number 301! Number 21! You're both up!" the guide said, stirring Lone out of his plan-oriented mind.

He glanced at his status and nodded upon seeing yet another 150 SP returned. He got up, stretched, then left the waiting room.

His mind was so focused that he didn't bother taking in his surroundings at all as he stepped up onto the stage he'd been directed to.

His opponent seemed to be a burly human woman in her mid-30s with a large bastard sword loosely slung over her shoulder but he didn't care.

The announcer told then to shake hands or bow once again, to which the woman bowed so Lone mimicked her.

The second the fight had started Lone raised his voice and yelled, "I forfeit!"

The large woman seemed startled but nothing happened. The announcer didn't end the fight as Lone had feared he wouldn't.

"I-I forfeit..." the bastard sword-wielding woman declared in confusion, to which the announcer named Lone the victor of the match by default, moving him up to the 8-set.

'I see,' Lone thought as he walked off of the stage. 'That's how it's going to be. Well then, no more trying to be Mister Nice Fox. If you wanna fuck with me expect me to fuck you right in the ass just as hard.'

Once again, Lone had regained 150 SP before he was called up for his next fight.

His 'opponent' this time was a young girl dressed in the garb of a mage. Lone assumed she was a noble from her fancy surname and given the fact that she was looking at him like he was dirt.

Naturally, she chose to bow, not shake his hand since the thought of touching him seemed to upset her.

That was perfectly fine for Lone. The second the fight began he sat down cross-legged on the stage and smiled.

The girl had no idea what was wrong with him but she just did what her parents had ordered her to. "I forfeit. I refu-"

"Your Majesty!" Lone yelled, drowning out the girl's voice. "Thank you for being so kind as to allow me to move up the sets without having to waste my energy on these weaklings! It is truly wise of you to value me as much as you do! As you ordered, I will happily show your son and the hero that there is always someone stronger! Indeed! Very wise of you to recognise the useless state both of them are now in since they have been doing nothing but living a life of languid luxury!"

Lone stood up, bowed graciously towards the royal viewing area, then walked off of the stage, leaving the entire arena in a state of confused awe, the other contestants fighting included.

The king felt his blood pressure rising. "How cunning... As expected of a fox that knows nought but to do as its instincts demand..."

"Honoured Father!" Crown Prince Auberon called with indignation and wrath in his voice. "We cannot allow such a direct insult! Please, Honoured Father, we demand that beast's head to be removed from its shoulders at once!"

Ralph of House Heidron, King of Milindo, furrowed his brow as he dug his fingers into the arms of the throne he was seated upon. "No. He has realised our plan, he would be a fool to not have. This is just a petty and childish retaliation. As one would expect from a mere demi."

The crown prince frowned. "But he directly insulted us, which in turn, directly insults the royal family. He also lied by using your honoured name. We simply cannot let such an atrocious being to continue existing in our wondrous kingdom!"

"Patience, child." The king calmed himself as he said, "Nothing has changed. The foolish hero shall redeem himself or you shall put the beast in his place. Were he not a part of that infernal guild, child, then we would have done as you requested without needing to be prompted."

He turned and looked at his son with the gaze of a monarch. "Do not do anything foolish, child. Am I understood? That filthy guildmaster cannot best us, however, he can, without a shred of a doubt, cause mayhem untold were we to murder one of his precious adventurers outside of one of the tournament's fights."

"Y-Yes, Honoured Father." With that, the crown prince stepped back to stay near his sister where he felt more comfortable.

Ralph of House Heidron, King of Milindo, returned to looking down at the arena. 'Nothing has changed. His first opponent was an oddity but thankfully that ended well... What was his opponent's name again? Why does such information slip our royal mind only now?... We cannot even recall what he looked like... How odd... Regardless, the beast's actions now have only further proven that our decision to have him killed was and still remains correct.'

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