Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 25
“Why would you think that, master?”
Lady Donna first turned back to Lannor in surprise. Then, as if something clicked, she broke into a bright, teasing laugh.
“I see, I see. That look on your face ... is that guilt?” Donna asked with a smile. “Guilt over the Witcher who killed my husband, the one from the same school as you?”
The young man opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Lady Donna burst into laughter again.
“Oh, for plague’s sake, don’t go making a face like that.”
“A killer ought to pay with his life, sure. But my man was a drunk through and through, mean as a drowner most days, and not much use in the fields either. Truth be told, the house runs the same with or without him, maybe even better.”
“You’re hoping for some tragic tale? You won’t get one from me, and if there were one, it’d have nothing to do with my drunkard.”
Lady Donna’s wrinkled hand waved carelessly through the air.
“Oh, is ... is that so?” Lannor’s upbringing told him it was improper to speak ill of the dead. Now that the widow herself spoke so bluntly, he could only feel awkward.
“Hah! That aside, I never imagined a Witcher’s life would be so far removed from ours, simple folk. The way you carry yourself, I’d wager you came from a respectable, well-off household before becoming a Witcher, didn’t you?”
After she said that, the open smile on her face faded for the first time, replaced by an expression Lannor could not quite read.
It was calm. Gentle.
What did it mean? Lannor pressed the question inwardly, but Mentos had no answer.
“I’m scorned here. Working myself to the bone at labor no woman’s body can finish,” Donna said softly. “But that’s just how it is in the village.”
“A village can’t afford to carry dead weight. Truth be told, I’m grateful I can still be scorned here, still have work to do. And I’m thankful to the villagers and the elders, because...”
“At least it lets me raise my child.”
Her voice was gentle, and in truth, she no longer had the strength to speak with full breath.
Yet to Lannor, those words struck like thunder.
All at once, he found Lady Donna, this farm woman already touched by age, to be beautiful.
It had nothing to do with the warped, overabundant hormones of a Witcher in his youth. This was a beauty born of facing life’s cruelty head-on, accepting it without flinching, and charging forward with unshakable resolve.
Lannor knew he would remember this kind of beauty for the rest of his life.
The tear in the padded jack’s outer layer was indeed small, only frayed and scattered. As Lannor had expected, under Lady Donna’s skilled hands, the repair was finished in less than twenty minutes.
Stepping out the door, Lannor walked along the plank road with his eyes lowered.
“In truth ... there were many things off about what she said, weren’t there?”
The conversation in his mind began. In this world, there was only one being to whom Lannor could bare his thoughts.
“Yes, sir.” Perhaps it was an illusion, but Mentos’s voice seemed softer than usual.
“A violent, drunken husband, yet no signs of abuse in the house. On the day he died, his boots were caked with manure and mud from the fields, yet she claimed he was lazy and never worked ... there are many inconsistencies.”
Yet the purpose was simple.
She did not want Lannor to bear a guilt that was never his.
Even if it meant speaking ill of her husband in private, she would not have the young man live under the weight of remorse.
A good person.
And it was precisely for people like her that he had returned to Auridon.
His spirits lifted, Lannor hurried back to the smithy. Just in time, Ivan was setting an edge on newly plated silver over the grindstone.
In less than two minutes, the young man once again carried two longswords across his back.
It was noon. Lannor grabbed Bernie and set sail at once.
Each of them held a sandwich of bread, salted fish, and pickled vegetables, their makeshift midday meal.
“I’ve got to say ... you seem awfully fired up today.”
At the stern, Bernie steered while biting into his salted fish sandwich, casting Lannor a surprised glance.
At the bow, Lannor had already finished his meal in a few quick bites and was now checking the buckles on his armor and boots one by one.
“I still need plenty of drowners to practice on, Bernie. Let’s head west today. With luck, we might even find a nest.”
“You’re the boss. Suits me.”
Bernie shrugged indifferently.
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