Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 102: The River Ran Crimson
To become a royal adviser was itself a high recognition of a sorcerer’s ability.
Those mages who drowned themselves in power played no fewer hidden games among their own than any court. Without outstanding magic, a position this vital would never have fallen to Triss.
Triss’s power certainly could not compare with Margarita’s, but teleporting two people and a corpse was not difficult for her.
Power bent space, twisting a bright, mottled aperture into the air.
Arya swallowed hard. Lannor looked a little better than she did, mostly because he could force himself not to show it.
Neither of them was seeing a portal for the first time, but it was most certainly the first time they had to walk through one.
In the witcher’s ears, the armored column’s footsteps in the street were growing clearer.
He drew a breath, grabbed Arya and the corpse, lowered his head, and rushed straight into the portal.
It was a strange thing. His body felt as if he had taken only one step, but his brain and guts felt as though they had spent half an hour in a rocking chair. The dislocation and dizziness made Lannor, for once, want to vomit.
Triss’s imprecise portal opened one meter above the ground.
His body still churned, but that height could hardly threaten Lannor. Ubank’s corpse hit the earth first, then Lannor landed with Arya, more than two hundred kilograms in all.
With a wet slap, the plated boots sank straight into the damp mud of a riverbank.
Lannor set Arya down and patted her back.
“Vomit if you need to.”
The girl’s cheeks bulged like a hamster’s. She first waved him off stubbornly, but before the gesture was done, she turned aside and threw up with a miserable retching.
Lannor glanced at the fading trace of the portal with lingering dread. Pope truly was a fine horse.
A witcher could spin dozens of times to build force in swordplay, then cut a coin into even halves without a tremor in his hand.
But after passing through a portal, the dizziness was far worse than sword drills.
Lannor had just pulled his boots out of the river mud with some effort when a black-haired girl nearby turned and gestured for them to be quiet.
Only then did Lannor realize this was no deserted lakeside wilderness.
Scattered people were gathered along the waterline, all gazing out over the lake.
Mist drifted over the water. Beneath the full moon’s glow, a hazy cluster of buildings seemed to stand upon the lake itself, like a dream too far away to touch.
That sight, Lannor supposed, was why a crowd had gathered by the lake so late at night.
“A mirage?”
He looked at the onion-shaped domes among the buildings and made his guess, then shook his head at once.
This was not a bare desert or open sea. Vizima Lake was surrounded by city, dense woods, and cluttered terrain. With all that interference, how could there be the conditions for distant images?
It could only be magic.
Lannor shook his head and did not mean to dig deeper.
The world was wide. Unsolved wonders were everywhere.
Just like the power-mist where Bordon had died, some things could not be explained at all.
Perhaps sorcerers could uncover the truth, but what sorcerer would spend their strength on such things?
Arya finished one round of vomiting and bent over, panting. From the look of her, another round was coming.
Lannor simply walked to the lake in his mud-caked boots and rinsed them in the clear water. The mud was still wet, and a quick wash stripped it off easily.
The black-haired girl who had told them to be quiet came closer, curiosity bright in her eyes.
She looked in her teens, her features already turning pretty.
“I saw you fall from the sky. Was that a portal?”
“You’re sharp, girl.”
In a magical world, ordinary folk with a little experience could accept quite a lot. At least they would not mistake a portal for some god or ghost.
“You came from the big city?” The girl’s eyes roamed over Lannor’s armor. “Is it fun there? Are there many interesting things?”
Lannor let out a quiet laugh.
Arya had once looked at his armor that way too. Superior School of the Bear armor, in shape, craftsmanship, and practicality alike, was proof of the finest skill humans could muster.
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