System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 2025 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 41
The rustling sound.
It was the soft slide of salt grains falling through fingers.
The waxing moon bathed the House of Cardell in pale light. Beneath the towering staghorn tree in the courtyard, three figures wrapped in thick cotton coats stood hunched over, their heads bent toward the tree. Each held a torch, letting the white grains of salt slip through their fingers, the coarse bark scratching at their hands.
Moments later, the solid bark of the tree cracked open, an eerie slit forming, expanding rapidly. It stretched wide, widening like an open vertical eye—then it snapped open fully, its edges pulling apart to reveal a half-man-high oval-shaped hole in the base of the tree.
Roy held his torch up to the opening. A gentle sloped path led downward, covered in vines, broken leaves, branches, and dirt. A strong earthy smell wafted up from the hole.
“What’s next?” Roy turned to glance at the two women in pink cotton coats. He wore one as well, which seemed almost comical, but he couldn’t help it—there were only two women in the entire school, and he couldn’t refuse their offer of a shared coat.
The Witcher’s warning still lingered in his mind.
“If you two aren’t going to say anything, I will,” Roy spoke softly. “We can’t all go down together.” He paused, his voice turning serious. “One of us has to stay above to keep watch, spread salt around the staghorn tree to prevent anything from getting out.”
“I need to go down...” Roy took a deep breath. He still had a deadly weapon hidden, one that according to the Witcher’s notes, could help him kill the Monster.
“This is my territory; that damn thing has taken over for far too long, stealing my children.” The middle-aged woman’s face grew deadly serious, a flicker of fury in her eyes. She dropped low and slid down the slope into the hole.
“Then you stay up here!” Roy shouted, beating her to the hole, diving in before Ffion could open her mouth. “Don’t worry, Ffion, I’ll bring him out for you.”
Roy held his torch in one hand, his other pressing on the soft slope as he slid through the dark tunnel.
After descending less than ten feet, he landed with a soft thud.
The next moment, his boots splashed into water. The ground in the tree hole was flooded, water barely covering his ankles, yet the chill in the water bit deep. Roy shuddered, taking in a sharp breath. No wonder the Witcher had warned him to wear extra layers—this underground space was at least seven or eight degrees colder than outside.
Roy swung the torch around. Cardell crouched a little ahead, knees bent in a careful watch, her hand raised in a silent gesture for him to follow.
They stood in a dim, underground space, the walls covered in thick, sticky mud, slippery moss, and creeping vines. The pond below them was scattered with bizarre, jagged stones.
Aside from the slightly wider center of the space, several narrow holes lined the walls. How narrow? You could only crawl on your hands and knees to get through. Strange croaks and the hissing of snakes echoed from the dark gaps, their sounds rippling through the stone walls.
Roy couldn’t imagine whether this space had always existed beneath the staghorn tree or if it had been created by the Monster known as Child-Hunter. He waded through the cold, murky water, coming up behind Cardell. His eyes scanned the surrounding holes, an unsettling thought crawling into his mind.
Could each hole house a Child-Hunter?
No, the Witcher wouldn’t make such a mistake. If that were the case, it would have been mentioned in the notes.
So, the Child-Hunter must be in one of the holes, using its vomit to suffocate its latest victim.
Roy exchanged a brief glance with Cardell. She jerked her chin toward the nearest hole, silent, as she drew a knife from her waist. She smeared salt evenly on the blade before raising the torch in her other hand and lowering herself into the hole.
Roy followed closely behind. The passage was narrow—barely two feet high. As soon as Roy crawled in, the cold, icy water soaked through his pants. The muddy walls clung tightly to his shoulders, making movement cumbersome.
They moved cautiously, their breaths shallow, the unsettling hiss of the tunnels punctuating their silence. Roy felt a creeping unease, his face taut, hardly daring to breathe. What if a Monster decided to ambush him from behind in this awkward position?
He kept glancing back, dreading the appearance of a monstrous face from the shadows.
Soon, they arrived at the farthest reaches of the tunnel. The space opened into a spherical nest, littered with broken branches, dead leaves, and small animal bones, slightly drier than the rest of the tunnel.
The Child-Hunter was nowhere to be seen, but the signs of its feasting were evident—human bones, small skulls, leg bones, and spines scattered across the corners. These were smaller than those of an adult, pale and tinged with a strange yellow hue.
Clearly, they belonged to children.
Cardell picked up one of the bones, her face hardening with a silent rage. Her teeth nearly ground together. There was no hesitation in her expression—she might have created this school for other reasons, but when it came to her students, there was nothing she would hold back.
They quickly searched two more holes, each time taking a dead body to mark the opening.
When they reached the fourth hole, a loud gurgling sound echoed from inside. It sounded like something was vomiting.
They froze, the torchlight flickering. Through the darkness, a shadow appeared.
A tall, thin figure, its skin covered in black sludge and moss, its limbs as spindly as branches, was crouching like a dog in the corner of the nest. It spat yellow liquid at a bloated mass, choking out the vile substance in uneven bursts.
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