Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 26: Footprints Across Frozen Mud
A Biological Intelligence Core answered when called and never betrayed its user’s trust.
The Sign Support Module had originally been built by Lannor as a training system, meant to improve his precise control over Signs according to Mentos’ calculated training plan.
Witchers had spellcasting ability, yes, but to a true sorcerer it barely rose above cantrip work. And as far as strengthening raw magical power went, Lannor could see little future in it.
So he demanded precision from himself instead.
A three or four gram iron pellet accelerated to the speed of sound could open a knight’s helmeted skull.
A three or four ton block of iron, sitting still, could hurt no one.
That was Lannor’s thinking.
To improve Sign control, Mentos used its retinal projection ability to create something like an FPS game interface.
In the shadowed gloom beneath the trees, the young man’s amber cat eyes began to glow faintly.
“Sign Support Module activated.”
Blue particle effects, sharp and luminous like something from a science-fiction film, appeared across his vision and formed angular boundary lines. Along the side of his sight, dense rows of data began to appear.
Back when the accursed client, Mr. Blue, first made the request, he had only said “make it like an FPS game,” followed by paragraph after paragraph of usage requirements.
The final product delivered by the miserable contractor, Mentos, looked less like a game and more like professional surveying software.
Distance distortions caused by light and angle were corrected with visual markers. Direction, height, temperature, humidity, every environmental factor Mentos could calculate was captured and displayed numerically.
Lannor had seen this view countless times before.
Mentos currently had no authority to interfere with his body, so he could only compare his movements against this “surveying software” and correct every output of power, every pulse of Sign control, by himself.
By reason, after practicing this long, he should already have been able to do without the interface.
But combat had its own rule: train heavy, fight light.
In training, thirty kilograms of gear was barely worth mentioning. In battle, anyone lugging around five kilograms too much deserved to be called an idiot.
Saving even a sliver of attention in a real fight was worth it.
“Tch. Still not enough experience.”
Lannor lightly tapped Bernie’s shoulder, and the old hunter nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Stay here. We’re too close now. Even without enough information, I have to go in.”
They had blundered right up against a group of Drowners. Could they blunder away just as easily?
Both Bernie and Lannor knew the answer.
Not likely.
Then there was only one choice.
Seeing Bernie’s lips tremble, Lannor instead smiled with a loose ease.
“Don’t worry. Our luck might not be that bad. Could be only a few scattered Drowners here.”
“I’m going.”
Without another word, Lannor rushed straight toward the Drowner at their flank.
The light footwork forged through swordsmanship training kept his steps relatively quiet, even at the speed of a normal man’s sprint.
But in a forest, controlling footsteps alone meant little.
Even the most seasoned woodland hunter could not guarantee movement without brushing a stray branch.
Lannor was no exception. Leaves rattled in a sudden whispering rush.
The Drowner crouched on the ground, gnawing at something unrecognizable, jolted upright and whipped its head around.
Beneath its blue scales, Lannor could see its throat beginning to pulse.
Perhaps in the next heartbeat, that familiar wua-wua scream would rip through the surrounding twenty meters.
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