Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 37: Echoes From The Black Woods
Though the warning about the man-eater band still lay buried deep in Lannor’s mind, he had already told the man responsible for Velen’s patrols what he suspected. What else could he do?
Play the lone hero and strike straight at the lair?
Don’t be ridiculous. That cannibal band had to number at least several dozen. Only a group of that size could have developed the ritual meaning represented by that hand necklace.
A witcher was not a god. No one with a working brain believed one sword could fight dozens.
Dozens of swords could hack even a sorcerer to death.
As for Phillip’s choice, Lannor had nothing to say.
The crime of stealing children was hard to rank below cannibalism in vileness, and its impact was no smaller.
Besides, the scale of missing children was clearly larger. Prioritizing that case was reasonable.
Lannor could only hope that before Velen’s lawmen freed up their hands, those man-eaters would not cause some greater disaster.
The young man did not linger long at Crow’s Perch. He took his damaged school armor and rode out.
Before leaving, he asked Phillip to send word to Auridon that he needed to go to Gors Velen and was not trying to break his contract.
The blacksmith Ivan came to Crow’s Perch regularly to buy materials, so passing along a message would not be difficult. Phillip agreed readily.
The journey alone was not worth much description. Fortunately, Mentos was excellent company.
And when there was nothing else to do, Lannor could amuse himself by humming a tune or two.
Though whenever he hummed, Mentos always happened to fall silent.
Still, it kept Lannor from pouring out his feelings to Pope.
Lonely enough to talk to a horse, that sounded a little too pitiful.
He passed swamps and villages, occasionally seeing abandoned houses and fields. Velen’s scenery held a gloomy beauty, yet its colors were startlingly vivid.
Flowers of every shade, clear sky and white clouds, trees and pools of water...
Lannor felt that even if he took a camera from his old world, shot the scene, then pushed every setting to the limit, the photograph still would not match this contrast.
The road passed quickly. Following the map, he reached the coastal city he had never visited before.
High walls encircled it. Spires rose sharply, their tops glittering. On the far side of the city lay the sea, gray-green water reflecting the morning sun, white sails scattered across it.
This was the first settlement Lannor had seen in this world that deserved the name “city.”
According to Mentos’ estimate, the city proper likely held no more than five thousand residents, but in this world that was already no small number.
In poor, vicious Velen, it was practically a jewel.
Lannor wore a hooded cloak, burying his cat eyes in shadow.
The gate guards had seen enough of the world. This sort of mysterious dress did not impress them at all.
No one escaped the few silver coins of entry tax.
Lannor carefully counted out the exact silver coins from his purse and handed them to the gate guard.
A tall, broad-shouldered, cloaked man with two swords on his back, sitting on a horse and counting coins with great seriousness, did look somewhat out of place.
After Lannor passed, the gate guards chatted idly.
“That fellow just now, with the cloak. Thought he was some great man. Then he counts coins like any common merchant.”
“Two swords on his back. I thought he was some famous mercenary. What famous mercenary counts entry fee coin by coin? If he counts coins, can he be famous?”
Amid the guards’ laughter, the corner of Lannor’s mouth twitched.
“They don’t understand thrift or money management. No wonder they’ll spend their whole lives guarding a gate. Damn fools.”
“Indeed,” Mentos immediately chimed in, smooth as a flatterer. “To mock you is already to court death. In this life, they will not even rise to captain of the guard.”
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