Lone: The Wanderer [Rewrite]

Lone grunted loudly when he felt his left eye being ripped out of its socket just as the right one had been only a few seconds ago.

He didn't scream anymore. He was past that but when his jailor had vicious poison lacing the tip of his gauntlet's fingers, he found it hard to not give the man some satisfaction via grunts and soft moans of anguish.

"Sir Ardus, there's urgent news!" a voice Lone didn't recognise yelled down the hallway of the dungeon.

'Sir Ardus? Is that my jailor's name? Lovely. At least I know he's a knight, likely a royal one,' Lone thought as he felt the blood flowing down his face from the two empty eye sockets drying up as a result of the wounds beginning to heal.

"What?!" the jailor yelled back. "Can't you see I'm busy here?!"

'Busy makin' me stronger, hahaha...' Lone teased internally. He only spoke out of turn when he had something funny to say.

As much as it was entertaining to pick on his jailor's lacking intelligence, getting his tongue cut out and having the wound burn as if it has been thrown into the depths of hell as his eyes currently felt was a suboptimal choice right now, Lone felt.

He'd been here for more days than he'd have liked but he'd yet to gain an immunity to any of the poisons used on him.

Honestly, Lone was starting to think that the mixture used each time was different but even then he'd yet to receive a single notification of gaining some sort of immunity to even one of the poisons used on him, so he'd concluded that he was just an unlucky bastard.

"S-Sir Ardus, The guildmaster of The Adventurer's Guild is being led here to speak with the prisoner. He's been allotted 5-minutes by His Majesty to talk with him. I was told to inform you before he arrived," the voice claimed.

Lone's blood-covered and utterly filthy fox ears perked up. 'Gilbert? Well, shit. I don't really wanna see him right now. Oh. Right. I can't. Missing eyes and whatnot...'

He'd be lying if he said that he had no hopes of a timely escape but Lone knew that Gilbert was a sensible old man. Living for hundreds of years should do that to a person though he'd been proven wrong by Duke Malik and the king before in that regard. 'I wonder what he'll say when he sees me... I haven't exactly had a bath in a while. I doubt I'm presentable, haha...'

Lone chuckled faintly which earned him a slap across the face from the backside of his jailor's gauntleted hand. Lone clenched his teeth as the lingering poison on the armour dripped across his face and melted his skin. "You be quiet."

The jailor leaned back in his seat then sighed. "Fine. It was nearing lunchtime anyway. He can have his 5-minutes."

Lone felt the man getting up from his chair and he then left the cell with said chair in hand. Listening to vibrations more so than sounds was quickly becoming one of Lone's new hobbies since occasionally his ears would be severed or stuffed with liquid - usually hot oil, making hearing a bit of a challenge at times.

Feeling vibrations was an easier thing to do consistently as opposed to using his ears when he had no idea if and when they'd be the jailor's target for the hour.

Not like he had many options in regards to developing new hobbies and he certainly wasn't keen on gaining a penchant for abuse and torture so little distractions like that helped keep his mind in a safer state.

'This is my first time in the castle's dungeons...' Gilbert thought as he carefully examined the place. 'Of course, I've received reports from staff members sent to retrieve imprisoned adventurers before but it's far more... damp than I would have expected.'

The smell of mould made his nose itch uncomfortably. 'I understand they don't wish for their prisoners to exactly have a pleasant stay but couldn't they at least think of the possible ramifications of a poor hygienic environment?'

Gilbert shook his head sadly. 'This is why humans are such a bother. Their racial skill lets them reproduce at insane speeds but they are too quick to ignore far-reaching consequences. This dungeon is simply a ticking time-bomb. One day, it'll start a plague if gone untreated.'

"Guildmaster Elksworth, are you okay? Perhaps you don't wish to use your 5-minutes right now?" the royal knight guiding him asked.

"No, that's quite alright. Don't concern yourself with me and just bring me to his cell, would you?" Gilbert requested with a smile even though his words were pointed.

"Of course, I'd be happy to," the knight replied but Gilbert's White Dragonkin racial ability informed him that the man very much so was not happy to lead him.

Gilbert had counted the cells he'd passed as they walked through the dungeon and his face was gradually getting uglier and uglier as he saw the conditions of the prisoners held here.

'52 cells thus far, of which 35 hold prisoners, 23 have been tortured severely and 12 seem to be no longer alive... What an atrocious kingdom. At least have the decency to remove the corpses. Headquarters needs to know about this. This wasn't in any of the reports I've received about this place. Were my employees bribed? Maybe they were too scared to tell me the truth since we aren't politically welcome here? Regardless, this cannot continue,' Gilbert concluded.

While he and the guild had no legal say in what kingdoms did with their prisoners, Gilbert and the guild both had certain beliefs regarding the rights of all individuals, criminals or not.

Within the guild, torture was outlawed since it simply was not necessary. There were plenty of skills to persuade a person to talk instead of beating a false statement out of them. People would say anything if it meant the pain would go away, after all, lie or not, making torture a uselessly outdated negotiation method.

Of course, executions were still allowed but only in extreme cases. What was going on here was beyond inhumane in Gilbert's opinion.

'Focus, Gilbert. We're here for Lone. The guild can clean up this mess in the future, but not now,' he said to himself mentally as he and the knight leading him rounded a corner.

"We're here," the knight said before he approached a seated guard and greeted him politely. "Sir Ardus, Guildmaster Elksworth is here."

The knight nodded before he flipped an hourglass and placed it on the table in front of himself. He pointed at its bottom half then said, "You have until this is a 12th full."

Gilbert nodded, not wasting any time speaking to the man. Instead, he entered the dark cell across from the man that was unlocked.

Before doing anything else he used a skill. "Sound Trap." It was a simple gravity magic spell that did what it said on the can; trap sound.

Sir Ardus was a bit alarmed at the use of a skill but he had heard the chant and quickly put two and two together. Gilbert couldn't hear the knight's grumbling but from his displeased looking body language he assumed the knight had muttered something like 'damned mages' or 'arrogant adventurers' under that helmet of his.

"Did I hear that right?" a familiar voice asked. "Gilbert, eh? Not the best situation to be meeting and celebrating my incredible victory at the tournament, but my hands are kind of tied, or, well, chained to be accurate."

"Always the smartass, huh?" Gilbert chuckled as he chanted another skill's name. "Tree's Glow."

This one was from the nature magic family of skills and it created a small ball of green energy that lit up his immediate surroundings.

Gilbert felt his lunch threaten to vacate his body and instead inhabit the cobbled floor when he got a good look at Lone's visage.

There wasn't a spot on his body nor tail fur that wasn't covered in a dark red and partially black... sludge. "Just how much blood has hardened on you, Son?"

Gilbert didn't expect his voice to be as strained and choked up as it was. Sure, he'd lived for close to 4-full-centuries and he'd seen his share of horrific scenes but to witness someone he cared for so deeply to be in such a state... More than anger him it simply made him feel despair and deep-rooted concern for Lone's well-being.

Lone shrugged as best as his shackles would allow. "Oh, I dunno. Spitballin' it? 20-litres, maybe? Honestly feels like a set of clothes at this point. It's warmer than these rags anyway. At least my face is clean enough. The prick in the helmet probably has a crush on me. Would explain why he wipes down my handsome visage every once in a while."

Gilbert tried to calm himself. He only had 5-minutes, after all. "Haha, at least you've still got that tongue of yours. I'm surprised how well you can speak, actually."

"Super healing, remember? Bastard's cut out my tongue more times than I can count. By the way, have my eyes regrown? I don't want to open them until they have. They sting like a motherfucker when I try so I'm guessing no but you haven't commented on them so you never know," Lone asked with a bit of a chuckle.

Gilbert didn't need his racial skill to tell that Lone's jovial tone was forced. He reached out and lightly touched the foxkin's face. "They won't get away with this, Son."

"Ah. Guess my eyes aren't better yet. Oh well," Lone sighed as he shook lightly. "Y'know, this whole torture shit isn't all that bad. I'm getting skill level-ups left and right. I've even earned a few new skills like Torture Resistance and Insanity Resistance. Funny that, being cut up for most of the day and poisoned like a rat kinda drains on the senses."

"... You don't have to act strong, Son. Only I can hear you right now. I'm covering your body with mine so they can't see you either," Gilbert said softly with affection.

Lone flinched a little. "I'm fine, really. You're gonna get me out eventually, aren't you? Political bullshit aside, The Adventurer's Guild's dick is pretty fuckin' big when stacked up against Milindo's. I know the grand guildmaster cares for adventurers like her own kids, right? Toppled a kingdom over an adventurer getting murdered once, didn't she? I... I just need to endure for a little longer, don't I?"

Gilbert's face soured an unimaginably large amount. "You shouldn't have to endure... this. No one should."

He leaned over and hugged Lone, not minding both the dry and the wet blood sticking to his clothes. The smell of faeces and urine, as well as mould, completely drowned out most of Gilbert's senses but he didn't care. "Son, you're a good person. None of this is your fault. I don't know what life was like for you back in your homeworld but Lone, please don't let this experience taint your view of Altros. This is not okay. This is not normal."

Lone clenched his fists tightly as he felt the warmth of Gilbert's body permeate through the thick layer of blood covering his body. "Why?"

Tears of blood started to spill out of Lone's grotesquely healing eyeballs as he asked, "Why do they hate me so much, Gilbert?"

His voice started choking up. "Just because I have fluffy ears? Because I have a bunch of tails?... Because I'm not a fuckin' human anymore?! Because the Primals supposedly love beastkin?!"

Gilbert felt Lone go limp in his arms. "Why... Why are the real monsters the ones pretending to be civilised?"

Gilbert's emotions began overwhelming him upon hearing the broken tone of Lone's voice. These were not the words of a man less than 30 years of age that had just started adventuring.

No. These were the words of a defeated individual with only a few shreds of hope left to cling onto in an otherwise hopelessly dire situation.

'I've failed him. Him and all the other demihumans that are being mistreated in this country...' Gilbert had made up his mind. If he wasn't determined before then the only thing that could stop him from acting out to solve this horrid situation now was an early death.

"Lone, I will not rest until you are free. Even after that, I will not stop until this kingdom changes. This should have never happened to you and it's all my fault," Gilbert confessed, guilt filling his every word.

"I can kill him, y'know?" Lone said as he both laughed and sobbed. "That cunt who torments me day and night? With just a thought I could make his brains leak out of his face. Y'know why I haven't yet?"

"Why, Son?" Gilbert asked.

"Because I believe in you. This is as much my fault as it is yours and this shitty kingdom's. Nothing forced me to antagonise Daisuke during the auction and I didn't need to cut off the prince's arms or gut him like a fish. Don't blame yourself, Gilbert," Lone requested with all of his heart.

He laughed softly and he sniffed in an attempt to stop his crying. "Y'know, my dad was a real piece of shit. I know you calling me son is just because of our age difference but it makes me surprisingly happy every time you do it... I really wish you were the one that raised me. You'd make a good dad, Gilbert."

The dragonkin stiffened a bit. He wasn't expecting a surprise attack like that out of the left field. "Family is who you make it, Son. Blood is thicker than water but the water runs deeper."

"Haha... Hahaha..." Lone laughed from the heart. "Yeah, you're right. Funny how sayings can transcend even worlds when they hold true."

Gilbert felt a tugging coming from his Sound Trap which indicated someone was trying to interfere with it. Looking behind him he saw Sir Ardus rapping his knuckles against the cell's bars impatiently. "Seems our 5-minutes are up."

Gilbert pulled back from Lone and then put both of his hands on Lone's cheeks. "Stay strong, Son. I will get you out."

Lone nodded softly. "Mmm, I'll do my best. I believe in you, Gilbert."

Gilbert nodded back then cancelled his Tree's Glow. As he turned his back to drop his Sound Trap and leave the cell, Lone asked him something.

"By the way," Lone said, voice full of curiosity, "Is Daisuke dead?"

"... Yes. When you were awakening you... made him explode, is the simplest explanation," Gilbert answered.

"Haha, good. Later, Gilbert," Lone said in farewell, all signs of his prior crying now gone save for the crimson tear stain that ran from his slowly filling eye sockets to his chin.

Gilbert smiled softly then left.

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