Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 58
“ ... Shameful.”
Lannor flicked the slick blood from his glove and muttered through a frown. “I don’t know how to make a man die quickly and quietly. I don’t know how to keep him from bleeding like a stuck pig either. If not for the stench of the sea, this much blood on me would give me away.”
Skill Analysis, Assassination
Status: In Progress
Proficiency: 1%
Skill Analysis, Stealth
Status: In Progress
Proficiency: 4%
“Sir, the internal logic of both skill sets is far more complex than expected. Without instruction, the learning cost will be high. But now is not the time to dwell on it.”
“You’re right, Mentos.”
Lannor fixed the torch to the camp fence. In this kind of light, a corpse only had to be a little away from the flame to vanish into the dark.
“No use brooding over what we lack. We continue.”
He moved deeper into the camp. To meet Mentos’ recommended clearing threshold, he meant to remove some of the active patrols first.
Ten minutes later, under dim moonlight and low fireglow, Lannor crouched behind an empty tent. His ears caught footsteps drawing close.
He measured the rhythm in silence. The instant the patrolman passed the tent, Lannor rose and reached out.
Again, one hand clamped over the man’s mouth and nose. This time he used a method that spilled no blood.
With a crack, the man’s face turned toward his own back.
His neck had been twisted cleanly.
As before, Lannor fixed the torch to a camp structure. The flame would no longer move, but that was better than too many lights vanishing for no reason.
This man’s death throes were much smaller. With the spine broken, the body no longer obeyed the brain, though the leftover twitch of nerves still made him jerk for a while before he went still.
Lannor breathed out softly. The darkened hollows around his eyes tightened.
Still poor work, as assassination went.
After abandoning the knife, he had killed seven more enemies this way, yet he still did not know how to snap a human neck efficiently. He was doing it with brute force.
That meant he had effectively wrestled seven full-grown men, all well-fed on meat, one after another.
No technique. No swift kill as in swordplay. Just raw strength against raw strength.
He could win, but even as a witcher, his breath had begun to roughen.
“ ... Hah. When I’m done killing these bastards, I’m finding someone skilled and learning this properly.”
“Mentos, put that in the memo.”
Lannor steadied his breathing and gave the order inside his head. His tone carried a trace of ease that had been rare over the past two days.
Violent exertion drove blood faster through the brain and made thoughts feel as if they were leaping.
And for Lannor, it was more than that. With seven patrolmen dead, he was also drawing closer and closer to the black mass of the holding area.
White should be there.
Not far now.
The young witcher forced down the impatience and excitement rising with every step toward his goal, then slipped into an occupied tent.
Inside the black tent lay three sleeping men.
Straw covered with animal hides served as beds. Cheap longswords, clubs, and spears lay beside them, close enough to grab with one hand.
Trust inside a criminal gang was a fairy tale. Every man there was a bottomless villain. Who would trust whom?
The first died with his neck twisted by hand.
His slight twitching and strangled breath woke the man beside him, but inside the tent, Lannor did not think a blood spray would be noticed.
The knife swept across the man’s throat, leaving a wound deep enough to show bone.
To make sure he could not cry out, Lannor used more force than usual, trying to sever windpipe and vocal cords together.
Blood burst from the throat and struck the roof of the tent.
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