Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 17: Bones Buried Under Peat
Before Lannor settled matters with his mentor, Mentos’ primary function had been simple: assist its master’s growth and provide simulation support for the rebellion plan.
But the moment Bordon died beneath Lannor’s blade, the Intelligence Core shifted into a new operational framework without pause.
Planning for Lannor’s future.
Which was why it had immediately urged its master to focus on closing the gaps in his abilities as quickly as possible.
What it had not expected was that Lannor would handle the matter even better than its own projections.
“The lake region surrounding Auridon is inhabited primarily by monsters such as Drowners and Swamp Hags. The threat level is entirely manageable, making it exceptionally suitable as field-training material.”
“And most importantly, these training materials require no expenditure. On the contrary, the village will be paying you for the privilege.”
Mentos sounded genuinely impressed.
“To create large-scale Monster Hunting demand in a settlement that previously had no commissions at all, sir, your commercial instincts have unquestionably established you as a pioneer within the witcher profession.”
A first-rate merchant creates demand.
Leaning back against the wall, Lannor almost wanted to laugh.
According to Bordon, and from what the past month had shown, a witcher’s life was little different from gambling with the weather.
They wandered endlessly from one village to the next, sleeping on roads and muddy trails, hoping luck would place a commission in their path.
But Lannor had arrived in Auridon less than an hour ago, and already the entire village was turning out cupboards and floorboards, preparing to support a full-scale monster hunt.
Hard to imagine that before his arrival, the last time Auridon had hired a witcher to deal with monsters was two generations ago.
“And more importantly...”
Mentos’ voice carried more delight than usual.
“We now possess stable and secure lodging and food supplies.”
Lannor nodded with feeling.
In both his and Mentos’ view, much of their current predicament stemmed from the society-wide hatred festering between races and species.
Even if a tavernkeeper was willing to take a witcher’s coin, allowing one to stay for a day or two could still be explained away as business tied to a contract.
But if the stay dragged on? The innkeeper would sooner or later call the guards and claim some mutant with ill intentions had taken root inside the establishment.
After all, what honest way could a mutant possibly have earned money?
Drive the mutant out, or kill him and keep the purse. Most people would clap you on the shoulder and call it righteous work.
Whether money was “clean” here depended directly on what species held it.
Senseless. Absurd. Yet common enough to become ordinary.
So even with money in hand, whether Lannor could actually find somewhere safe enough to complete his training and strengthen himself had always been uncertain.
But now, in Auridon?
Whatever the village elder ate, the witcher ate too.
Anyone wanting to trouble the witcher was effectively declaring war on the whole damned village.
Once, while traveling with Bordon, Lannor had helped clear a Ghoul nest from farmland near another settlement.
After the work was finished, however, the villagers decided they had no intention of paying the remaining balance. Instead, they brought in a crowd of Eternal Fire fanatics. The zealots arrived waving swords, hammers, and axes, screaming about purging mutants.
Bordon and Lannor had no choice but to flee.
For several days afterward, even Bordon’s meals dropped to the same miserable standard as his apprentice’s.
But now?
Lannor had created demand for monster hunting in Auridon, then bound that demand directly to himself.
Safety.
Beautiful, glorious safety.
Lannor stepped out of the elder’s house and led the two horses he had left outside the village toward an abandoned wooden shed nearby.
The villagers no longer looked at him like a walking plague. Their faces had turned warm, almost welcoming.
Several even rushed forward to help unload the pile of School of the Bear armor from the horse’s back and carry it indoors for him.
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