Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 21: The Smell Of Burned Fur
Splash. Splash.
Lannor and Bernie jumped from the boat into the mudflat.
“This is one of the richer fishing spots along the outer edge of the grounds,” Bernie said. “If you’re looking for Drowners, you’ll find them easy enough here. The bastards can hardly be bothered to avoid people anymore.”
Lannor’s nostrils flared. The wind came wet off the water, thick with mingled stinks.
The mudflat smelled foul. Fish rot, blood, brine.
Put some soft lordling here, and the first breath alone would bring breakfast back up his throat.
Through a witcher’s altered senses, Lannor felt the scents winding around him like colored halos. After careful separation, he chose the one he needed.
A disgusting odor like fish, shrimp, and waterweed all rotting together.
Drowner.
Once he focused on that scent, the air carrying it seemed to brighten in his vision like ribbons. The rest of the muddled smells fell away, filtered into dull background noise.
Of course, finding the trail so easily had less to do with his talent and more to do with the Drowners moving through the place often enough that their stink was still fresh.
By reason, the scent alone should have been enough for Lannor to track the pack straight to its den.
Yet he did not set off immediately. Instead, he turned toward Bernie, who was already taking the bow from his back.
“Can you track that pack of Drowners?”
Bernie gave the young witcher a puzzled look. Wasn’t that your work?
Still, he did not argue.
“With tracks this obvious, and Drowner scale flakes everywhere? Anyone with eyes could.”
“...”
Inside Lannor’s skull, Mentos produced a string of meaningful silence.
Lannor stared expressionlessly at the mudflat before him.
The black, foul mud was covered with all kinds of tangled marks. Beasts. Driftwood. Drowners.
To someone without tracking experience, it was just a filthy mess of footprints and scratches. Drowner scales and fish scales looked no different. The so-called obvious tracks were buried beneath chaotic impressions.
Sorry for being someone with eyes, then.
The corner of Lannor’s mouth twitched faintly.
“Good. I need to adjust my combat state. I’ll leave the tracking to you.”
No further explanation came, and Bernie clearly had no desire to ask more. The work was easy enough for him.
The man in long leather gauntlets moved to the front, examining signs with practiced ease and deciding their route from the scattered traces.
In Lannor’s mind, Mentos began working according to his plan.
New Analysis Module Added: Trace Detection
Skill Source: Fisherman Bernie
Information Integration and Analysis in Progress
Current Progress: 1%
“Send me the results tonight,” Lannor said inwardly. “I don’t want my head swelling like a shaken bottle of cola while fighting Drowners.”
“Understood, sir.”
Mentos’ voice obeyed smoothly.
Without higher permission, the process of transferring knowledge from the Intelligence Core could not be modified. Discomfort was inevitable.
But choosing when to suffer was still allowed.
Their exchange passed quickly in thought. Bernie was still bent over the mud, inspecting marks.
Lannor, meanwhile, could not understand how the man kept drawing conclusions from such tiny signs. A shallow scrape in the muck. A clue hidden inside a pile of ruined footprints. Then, without hesitation, Bernie adjusted their direction.
And those adjustments were far more accurate than Lannor’s scent tracking.
Following behind him, Lannor let out a quiet breath. Extraordinary senses still needed knowledge and experience to be used efficiently.
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