Chapter 28: What Waited In Silence

Information from the edge of his vision came back.

There were not merely seven Drowners and one Swamp Hag.

Lannor had known from the start that his earlier reconnaissance had been flawed, limited by line of sight.

What he had not expected was another Drowner lurking not far away.

His brow twitched faintly.

“He exposed himself too early.”

Yes. Bernie had revealed himself too soon. Before Lannor had fully drawn every hostile gaze onto himself, Bernie had already risen from the brush.

Maybe nerves got the better of him. Maybe he feared Lannor would not hold out much longer.

The reason no longer mattered.

The result did.

A Drowner had gotten onto Bernie.

During these hunts, beneath Lannor’s savage swordsmanship, the creatures often ended as scattered limbs and split torsos.

Among common folk, too, there was a widely accepted saying:

a farmer with a pitchfork could kill a Drowner alone.

As if the monsters were hardly dangerous at all.

But that belief rested on its own logic.

First, a pitchfork gave a farmer far greater reach than a Drowner’s claws.

Second, a Drowner’s claws could neither snap the wooden shaft nor destroy the iron prongs.

Third, even without silver’s monster-slaying properties, a thrust from a pitchfork could still puncture vital organs and kill.

Simple. Clear. Reasonable.

That was why a lone Drowner lost to a farmer with a pitchfork.

But Bernie, despite being a seasoned hunter with experience leagues beyond any farmer, held nothing now except his bow and a hunting knife.

A monster a pitchfork farmer could kill might very well kill an old hunter armed like this.

There were no levels in the real world. Given the right conditions, even a Drowner could gut a veteran hunter.

“Fast and decisive.”

Lannor narrowed his eyes at the Swamp Hag pacing nearby, claws tucked against its chest while it cackled softly.

If this dragged on much longer, Bernie would end up getting eaten alive.

“Mentos. Build me an Airflow Model. Now.”