Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 29: Ravens Above The Gallows
“Thank you ... thank you!”
Bernie’s eyes were fixed and glassy, his old linen clothes smeared thick with mud. Even though the Drowner that had nearly peeled open his throat was dead, his fingers remained locked around the grip of his hunting knife.
When he tried to brace himself against the ground and stand, Lannor had to force his hand open and take the knife away before the man cut himself by accident.
The shock of brushing death left marks. Lannor knew that feeling well.
Only after the young witcher pulled his sword from the Drowner’s corpse and stared miserably at the chipped edge did Bernie seem to recover some of his senses.
He staggered over, breath ragged, and threw his arms around the stunned witcher.
“Thank you ... truly, thank you.”
“Thank you for saving my life. I don’t dare think what’d happen to my family if I were gone. Tissaia’s still so small. She couldn’t protect her mother. I...”
Some might look at one man embracing another and put an ugly meaning to it.
But in that moment, Bernie’s gratitude was clean and raw.
It came from fear of what had almost happened, and from terror of the future his family would face without him.
So when a man held Lannor with that weight in his chest, voice breaking, the young witcher could only pat his shoulder lightly.
“Lannor, I’ll repair your sword for you. And I’ll make you the best scabbard I can, with the finest wood I can find, wrapped in the best fish leather Auridon has.”
“Thank you ... thank you.”
Bernie released him and took the silver sword from Lannor’s hand, making the promise solemnly.
Lannor smiled and waved it off.
“I’ll accept the scabbard. Leave the sword to Ivan. It was damaged during the job; you shouldn’t bear that cost alone.”
“Come on. There shouldn’t be much danger nearby now. The Drowner clawed your hand a few times, and that needs washing fast. Gods know what filth those things have scraped through. You said this place is close to Midcopse? We’ll go there first and rest.”
Bernie opened his mouth, then looked down at the long leather glove on his hand. The Drowner’s claws had nearly torn it apart.
Under the glove, the flesh was a bloody mess. He had only just left combat behind, adrenaline still running high enough that pain had not properly reached him yet.
Without that glove, the bones of his fingers might already have been showing.
Once they had their direction, Bernie took the lead, since he knew the roads. The two survivors left the battlefield and moved toward Midcopse.
One territory did not hold two groups of apex predators.
The Drowner pack Lannor had just cleared had already been a deterrent in this area. Add the fact that monsters grew scarcer nearer human settlements, and the road proved safe enough.
“That thing you used just now ... was that magic?”
Bernie cradled his injured hand, cold sweat running down his face as he walked ahead. Pain was beginning to find him now. Half his talking was distraction; the other half was genuine curiosity.
“You witchers really can use magic?”
Lannor had recovered somewhat by then and knew the old hunter was suffering, so he kept watch while answering casually.
“They’re only Signs. Cantrips.”
“Cantrips? You made a great bloody firestorm and burned ten monsters dead. I’d swear I heard at least ten of them screaming!”
“There were only five.”
Lannor sounded faintly helpless.
“How do I explain this to you?”
“That fire vortex isn’t something I can just cast whenever I like. I calculated positions, terrain, temperature, humidity. A forest doesn’t have chaotic air currents disrupting everything, so I could use Aard to blow the wind I wanted...”
He paused and glanced at Bernie, who had turned back with a blank look that said he understood none of it.
Lannor gave up.
“Think of it like this. Imagine an expert crossbowman chose a fine military crossbow for me, adjusted the sight, and drew the string. All I did was pull the trigger. Signs are just the trigger.”
Bernie was silent for a long while.
Then he asked tentatively, “So ... you were blessed by the gods?”
Lannor drew in a deep breath. His lips trembled. He had no idea what to say.
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