Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 15
Mentos bypassed the entire chain of permissions, from primary schooling through secondary levels, and opened a restriction for Lannor at the university tier.
It sounded impressive.
At this stage, however, neither Lannor nor Mentos could perceive any practical benefit.
It was only a single lifted restriction, not a full clearance. The intelligence core’s computational power and operational permissions remained locked at the Human Federation’s primary-school level.
At best, it might make future progress through university-level coursework somewhat easier.
For now, Lannor put it aside.
“So, you are the village elder of Auridon, Aaron?”
Inside the tavern of a village that had seen murder, Lannor brushed rainwater from his head and asked, head slightly tilted.
Outside, heavy rain and low clouds smothered the light. Within, a single candle fought the gloom, casting a weak glow over half the old man’s body.
Lannor’s lowered, beast-like eyes still caught every detail.
A typical northerner, a farmer.
His face held the dull exhaustion of long years, lined and worn. His fingers were thick with calluses. His body bore the marks of endless labor, one shoulder set higher than the other.
Even as village elder, his means stretched only so far as a pair of pointed soft leather boots and a pipe between his teeth.
“I am. Bill, this is a tavern. Stop standing there and pour the guest some water.”
It was plain the old man wanted no part of this conversation.
But his lips tightened at the sight of the roaring bear’s head pendant on Lannor’s neck, and he forced himself to sit at the same table.
Even then, he perched on the bench as if ready to bolt at any moment.
“My apologies, Witcher. But ... we have not posted any contracts of late. I do not know what brings you here.”
There were still a few villagers in the tavern. Not long after Lannor entered, they had drawn away from him, watching with wary distance.
As though he were the source of a plague.
The barkeep called Bill set down the water and began wiping his hands again and again.
Lannor felt their fear and revulsion. He had seen it often enough.
Though he had been in this world only a short while, he already understood how the “racial hatred” that once felt abstract in his old life took on a diseased, tangible form here.
Faintly, he sensed that such an atmosphere was not entirely natural, but stirred and fanned by unseen hands.
He had not read the histories of this land, but his past education offered too many parallels.
It made the villagers before him seem both pitiable and contemptible.
Contemptible for how easily they were stirred.
Pitiable because they might live out their lives without ever realizing they had been stirred at all.
“Of course. You posted no contract, and I did not come for one.”
Lannor spoke evenly. To ease them, he avoided meeting their gaze with his cat eyes.
His thoughts ran swift since gaining the intelligence core, and just as easily wandered. He gathered them back in, though outwardly no shift could be seen.
“Then you...?”
Elder Aaron hesitated. The sour scent of cheap spirits on his breath made Lannor’s nose twitch.
“Some time ago, a witcher wearing the same pendant as mine killed two men here, correct?”
The tone remained flat, yet the reaction was immediate.
A murmur broke among the villagers. Fear and hostility sharpened into something uglier.
“He is here to cause trouble? To make us keep silent before the lord?”
“We should be the ones seeking revenge. That mutant bastard killed two men here!”
“He is alone. We take him together, throw him into the lake!”
Every whispered word reached Lannor’s ears. His expression did not change.
Aaron had already lifted himself from the bench, poised as if ready to run.
Yet as village elder, he held a measure more sense than the others.
“Witcher, we ... we cannot interfere with Lord Vserad’s wanted poster. There is no point in you coming here.”
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