Lone: The Wanderer Rewrite

Book 3: Chapter 10: Poison and Estoc

With all of the paperwork out of the way, Lone and his group made their way to courtyard three. The enclosure itself wasn't particularly fancy though it did have a certain appeal to it. The whole area was made entirely out of a stone Lone didn't recognise, likely a type of mineral resistant to damage, he guessed.

The space could likely hold upwards of a thousand people which only spoke of how large this branch of the guild was. Already the courtyard had a couple hundred occupants, all here to either learn from Lone or judge the process.

"I am rather curious about the source of your confidence in your defensive abilities. Is it a confidence born of a magical nature?" Yulia asked, her inner researcher flaring to life.

"You'll see," Lone replied cryptically. "There no fun in spoiling the surprise."

"I never did like surprises," Yulia sighed.

"They can be fun," Soph commented. "Sometimes."

Lone smiled wryly before he assumed a place in the centre of the courtyard while Soph took Breena's hand and led her to the side, Yulia following the two of them with a furrowed brow.

Addressing the crowd, Lone said, "So, who's first?"

A young, arrogant-looking, and very well-dressed girl of about 15 or 16 years, stepped forward. "I am Imelda Weirs, daughter of Count Weirs of the Grisbain Kingdom. Will you truly allow me to inflict immense pain and damage upon you for the low price of 50 coppers?"

Lone wasn't a fan of her attitude one bit but he wasn't here to find friends. He was here to find new skills. Although, he couldn't stop himself from wondering what such a young foreign noble was doing in the principality.

"A mage between I and C-rank, huh? You got a fetish for hurting people, do you?" Lone asked, surmising her strength from the price she listed. "Hit me with your best spell or spells then."

"Hah! The fox deems to order me about. No matter. I'll have you on your knees begging for it to stop in mere moments." A cruel grin surfaced on her face as she reached into her adventurer's pouch and tossed a small leather pouch Lone's way.

He caught it and glanced towards Soph.

'50 copper coins. They're all there. Oh, uh, she's a C-ranker by the way, not that it really matters,' Soph sent.

Lone nodded in thanks and pocketed the pouch, sending it into his Dimensional Storage. "Well then, let's see what you've got, Imelda."

The teenage girl pulled out an ivory stick about a quarter metre in length from a sleeve on the inside of her jacket. Lone assumed it was a wand or a small staff. Magical foci were rare, so he was getting quite excited to see what she was capable of, magically speaking.

She closed her eyes and began muttering a magical incantation as she pointed her foci at Lone. He just stood still with his arms crossed, an expectant look on his face. Soph would warn him if the power being gathered warranted his Bone Armour or a fortress shield, so until then, he simply let his curiosity control him.

Before too long, the girl was done and invoked the spell she had been so diligently preparing. "Venomous Stream!"

A wavy and fluid beam of purple toxic sludge poured out of the tip of her magical foci and slammed into Lone's chest, ripping his clothes apart.

His flesh eroded rather quickly but fixed itself just as fast. Oaken Flesh combined with his Vitality made resisting the magic seem effortless. Seven seconds of consistent magical casting was all the teen was capable of before her spell faltered and she collapsed onto her knees, panting in exhaustion.

The host has developed the active poison magic skill: Venomous Stream.

Active Poison Magic Skill: Venomous Stream

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A basic application of the poison magic school where the caster focuses the school of poison magic into a concentrated beam of energy capable of corroding the weakest of materials.

Congratulations! The host has developed an affinity for Poison Magic.

The host has developed the passive skill: Poison Magic Resistance.

Passive Skill: Poison Magic Resistance

A skill that allows the host to resist all forms of poison magic.

Poison magic used on the host will be weakened by 5%.

'Holy shit. Poison magic. Sweet. Need to spam this on myself at some point to gain immunity to it through Poison Resistance. Considering I gained no new levels in the non-magical resistance, her mastery must be beginner or intermediate at best. As expected for a teenager. That, or you can't raise the normal resistance via magic though I bet they stack, not clash. Well, time to give her some advice. She paid for it, after all,' Lone nodded.

He casually repaired his clothes via Creation Magic, earning him no small amount of curious glances and shocked expressions. "Very good skill, but the casting time was atrocious. No wonder you took the chance to use it on someone willing. Must be a right bitch to train or even think of using in an actual fight. You need to think less and feel more when casting it though. Spend days, weeks, months if needed, learning how to cast that while moving and without closing your eyes."

"How... are you not... screaming?" Imelda Weirs asked as she hobbled to her feet, her breathing a ragged mess.

Lone shrugged. "Physical Pain Resistance at expert-level-nine. Poison Resistance, also at expert-level-nine. It'll take a lot more than a simple spell to make me squeal. I trust the advice served you well?"

Gasps of two-part admiration and horrific realisation swept through the crowd at Lone's alleged ranks and levels in the two listed skills. Poison Resistance was one thing. A lot of people trained to get that skill, though they did so via painless poisons. Physical Pain Resistance, however, informed everyone here of how enduring Lone's personality was. It also reinforced how serious he was about being a living target dummy.

Imelda Weirs frowned. "No one's ever not screamed before." Her breathing was much more stable now. "I gained three levels in Venomous Stream."

The crowd reacted quite aggressively to that.

"With one invocation?!"

"Fuck, sign me up! It would take me two months just for one level for some of my skills!"

"Stop shoving! I'm next!"

Lone smiled. He was hoping to earn a lot of skills today, and heck, even if the variety wasn't as exaggerated as he would prefer, at least he would be building up his resistance skills.

Eventually, the crowd sorted itself out and Lone's next student approached.

'SS-rank and neither of his mana organs are active, so no magic. I overheard him talking to another member of his party and they want to test you out. He, uh, thinks that stupid poison girl might have been a paid actor. Might be a good chance to level your Teaching Mastery if you give them some real insight,' Soph advised.

Lone nodded and took a moment to properly inspect the man before him.

He was taller than Lone at about six feet and four inches. The man was well-dressed and armoured with some sort of scale-covered gambeson and trousers. In addition, his slicked-back brown hair and handlebar moustache were very well-groomed.

In his left hand lay a two-metre-long estoc made from a metal Lone didn't recognise. 'Uncommonly long for such a weapon.'

Lone resisted the urge to use the highly noticeable Item Examination of the man's sword and armour, instead choosing to say, "The ten coppers?"

The man flicked his finger and Lone caught the single gold coin that had been tossed his way. "Impressive you know I am between B and double-S-rank. Keep the change. It's a tip of sorts."

"I have enough experience fighting SS-rankers to know when one stands before me," Lone replied. 'All the credit is yours, I'm just boasting,' he tactfully sent to Soph. He heard an amused giggle in response.

"Easy, medium, hard, or impossible?" Lone asked the man.

Raising an eyebrow, the SS-ranker asked, "I beg your pardon?"

Lone waved his hand, making a pail of blood appear out of thin air, shocking the crowd once more but he wasn't finished quite yet with the surprises.

"Easy," he said, gesturing with open arms at himself.

"Bone Armour." He was encapsulated by his intimidating full plate that had withstood eldritch attacks in a fraction of a moment. "Medium."

"Blood Clone." Creating and shaping the Blood Clone into an active fortress shield, he said, "Hard."

He grinned under his helmet. "And this," he said, "is impossible."

Lone moved his blood away to reveal his armoured body which he promptly covered in a bone fortress shield that he then encapsulated in a blood one. Just as soon, he returned the blood to the bucket and his bones to his body.

"Now, again. Easy, medium, hard, or impossible?" Lone repeated, a benign smile on his lips.

He heard Yulia whisper, "None of that was magic," amidst the crowd's comments and astounded remarks.

The estoc-wielder took a moment to consider before asking, "Did you call it impossible because you believe that defensive combination to be impenetrable, or do you think me incapable of breaking through it?"

"For you it is impossible. For some people in this building? It might not be. I'm not being arrogant, by the way. I have a skill called Fortress Shield Mastery. It's at master-level-one and it outright cancels 95% of attacks. The other 5% get weakened by 95%. So unless you think you can hit me hard enough to crack open not one but two fortress shields, and then my armour to boot - which can repel pretty much everything below X-rank on its own - then I suggest you go for the hard difficulty. My blood is much softer than my bones. I think you'll get the most out of that. I'm down for easy too if you wanna cut me up or skewer me. Got a killing move you need to test? Easy is the way to go," Lone suggested.

The SS-ranker frowned. "You are one of three things. A compulsive showman about to get himself killed. An unparalleled liar who is also, like the showman, about to get himself killed. Or, lastly and least likely, a Divine masking your strength for no reason given how willing you are to reveal such an absurd skill and skill rank. I do not wish to murder you. My party member happens to have an expert-ranked healing skill. She will save you from death's door. I choose easy. let this farce be over."

Lone shook his head but said nothing. He expected such a reaction from him honesty. Barely anyone knew about Fortress Shield Mastery's existence since it had only recently been reported to the guild by him.

Lone hardly saw it when the man moved though he did feel it when the two-metre-long estoc ripped through his shirt, weaved expertly through his ribcage and pierced his heart before erupting out of his back.

Now standing by Lone's side with his estoc in hand, his head inches to the right of Lone's, the man said, "A showman then. A liar would be dead and a Divine would never have allowed their flesh to be pierced by my Ellie even were she capable of such a feat. How you became a gold-silver plate at C-rank needs to be brought into question immediately I might think."

Lone turned to look at the man, which surprisingly made him flinch and jump away, leaving Lone alone there with the man's sword still impaling him. The SS-ranker clearly hadn't expected him to be able to move at all for some reason.

Pursing his lips, Lone reached down and carefully removed the ridiculously long blade from his chest. Holding it with both of his hands carefully, one on the hilt and the other on the blade, he said, "Definitely not poisoned. A skill to paralyse, maybe? Could be an enchantment too, to be fair."

The host has developed the passive skill: Estoc Mastery.

Passive Skill: Estoc Mastery

A child skill of the parent skill [Sword Mastery] commonly used by cavalry knights and warriors of great dexterity.

When attacking an armoured foe with an estoc the host will find it 5% easier to strike joints and gaps in the target's armour. Only applies to anything categorised as full plate.

'No Paralysis Resistance or any active skills he silently invoked. No new magic resistance either so the blade's enchantment, assuming it has one, doesn't have anything too special on it like Hamish's cursed daggers. The effect he expected must have stemmed from an additional effect of Estoc Mastery,' Lone commented internally.

With a horrific sound, the hole barely the same size as a finger in Lone's chest closed. Near instantly, it seemed like he hadn't been run through by a blade just moments ago.

Again, he repaired his clothes. "Good sword nonetheless, and even superior swordsmanship. You are my better in that field so I have few words of wisdom, though I would suggest believing in the virtue of innocent until proven guilty. I did not earn my adventuring title of Immortus the Immortal by enduring a cut from a goblinoid or a club to the ribs courtesy of an ogroid. I have threatened Primals, angered a Djinn, been targetted by an Arch Devil, and slain an eldritch horror. Tomorrow I will even fight Prince Keining in a public spar."

Lone tossed the estoc back to its owner who caught it with ease.

"I may be a C-ranker but I am no ordinary C-ranker. Do you wish to try again? But this time, with a slower and more practised attack that I might use my Teaching Mastery on?" Lone asked with a smile. "I am here to tutor, after all."

The SS-ranker carefully looked at his blade, at his Ellie. He slowly looked up and met Lone's eyes. "I apologise. My name is Kevin Keining, 11th son of Prince Keining. If you would allow me, I wish to try to challenge your hard difficulty, Lord Immortus."

Lone's smile became a maddened smirk. "Apology accepted. Now that the measure of my worth has been properly established, let's start the mass tutoring session in full!"