Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 29
“Th, thank you!”
Bernie’s eyes were vacant, and his old linen clothes were caked in mud.
Even with the Drowner that had nearly flayed open his throat already dead, his hand still gripped the hunting knife in rigid desperation.
When he braced himself to rise, Lannor had to force his fingers open and take the knife from him, or the man might well have cut himself.
The shock of staring death in the face hit hard. Lannor knew the feeling well.
Only after the young man pulled his sword from the Drowner’s corpse and looked at the chipped edge with pained dismay did Bernie begin to come back to himself.
He drew great gulps of air, staggered over to Lannor, and suddenly threw his arms around the startled Witcher.
“Thank you ... truly, thank you.”
“Thank you for saving my life. I daren’t imagine what would become of my home without me. Tissaia is still so young, he can’t protect his mother ... I...”
Some men might cast ugly suspicions on an embrace between men.
But here and now, Bernie’s gratitude was wholly sincere.
It was born of the horror that had come after the fact, of the fear of what his family’s future would be if he were gone.
And so when a man, burdened with those feelings, clung to Lannor choking back sobs, the young Witcher could only pat his shoulder gently.
“Lannor, I’ll repair your sword. I’ll use the best wood I can find, wrap it in the finest fish leather in Auridon, and make you the best scabbard you’ve ever seen.”
“Thank you ... thank you.”
Bernie let go, took the Silver Sword from Lannor’s hand, and made the promise with solemn earnestness.
Lannor smiled and waved it off.
“The scabbard I’ll accept. The sword, no. Leave that to Ivan. It was wear suffered on the job, you shouldn’t bear it alone.”
“That’s enough, there should not be much danger nearby now. You’ve got several claw marks on your hand from the Drowner, they need washing at once. Who knows what filth those beasts have been digging through. You said this place is near Midcopse, didn’t you? Let’s go there and rest up first.”
Bernie opened his mouth, then looked down at his long leather glove. The Drowner’s claws had nearly torn it to pieces.
Beneath the glove, the flesh was a bloody ruin. He had only just come out of battle, the adrenaline still high, so the pain had not truly set in yet.
Without that glove, the finger bones would likely have been showing.
Once they had their bearings, the two men, with Bernie leading as the one who knew the way, started toward Midcopse.
One region did not support two groups of apex predators.
The Drowner pack Lannor had just wiped out already held sway over this area. And the closer one came to human settlement, the fewer monsters tended to roam.
So the road was, for the most part, safe.
“That thing you used just now ... was that magic?” Bernie cradled his wounded hand, sweat running cold down his face as he walked ahead.
The pain was starting to reach him now. Half his talk was to distract himself from it, the other half from genuine curiosity.
“You Witchers really can use magic?”
Lannor, who had recovered somewhat himself, knew the man was having a rough time, so he kept watch while answering casually.
“They were only Signs, cantrips.”
“Cantrips? But you threw out a blaze that huge. Burned ten monsters to death. I’d swear I heard at least ten of them screaming.”
Lannor sounded faintly resigned.
“There were only five ... how do I even explain this to you?”
“That fire whirlwind was a matter of chance as much as anything. I calculated the positioning, the terrain, the temperature and humidity, and a forest is not a place where chaotic air currents interfere much, so I could use Aard to create the wind I wanted...”
Lannor paused, then looked at Bernie, who had turned around with a thoroughly baffled expression.
He gave up and said flatly, “Just think of it like this. Some expert crossbowman picked me out a fine military crossbow, set the sight, drew the string for me, and all I did was pull the trigger. The Sign was only the ‘trigger.’”
Bernie said nothing for a long while. After quite some time, he ventured carefully,
“You mean ... a god favored you?”
Lannor took a deep breath. His lips twitched, but no words came.
He decided it was better to let Bernie hurt a bit more after all.
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