Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 61
The startled child’s eyes were like a fawn’s, wide and trembling.
White stood in the middle of a group of children his own age, and panic this vast was more than any single child could resist, even one hardened by hardship. His once-clean, finely stitched clothes, washed by Mrs. Donna, were now grimy, tugged out of shape. His slightly oversized head spun nervously, instincts flaring as he tried in vain to gather whatever information he could from the environment. Humans crave light not just for sight, but because losing it triggers a primal fear: without information, survival feels uncertain.
Lannor did not hesitate. Seeing White unharmed eased the taut cords of tension coiling in his nerves. The boy was safe ... for now. Relief was brief. Two lines of torch-bearing guards were moving, bringing an immediate wave of renewed urgency. The child was fine, but the situation remained perilous.
Lannor crouched before the massive wooden cage that held White. Thick beams, each the width of an adult’s forearm, lashed and lined up into an unyielding barrier. Unlike the flimsy cages of old stage dramas, these gaps were too narrow to slip a hand through. Solid and dense, the freshly felled wood was swollen with sap, flexible and resilient; even a heavy axe would struggle to sever a single post quickly.
The cage’s door, made the same way, was secured with a lock exactly as Mentos had predicted. Even Man-eaters knew better than to skimp on locking away something valuable. Lannor pressed his lips together, eyes fixed on the lock. He had no skill with keys, but the irony wasn’t lost on him: the person he came to save blocked only by iron.
His left hand hovered three or four centimeters from the lock.
“Igni.”
Orange flame coursed along his palm, as he had once done with his sword. The iron lock absorbed the heat instantly, glowing like molten metal in a forge.
Inside, the children fell silent for a heartbeat before shouting erupted. Fear, perhaps, or the sudden glimmer of hope. Either way, expecting a group of nearly traumatized children to remain quiet was absurd.
White glimpsed Lannor through the glow, recognizing him even with his terrifying, Elixir-altered appearance. Joy lit his face. To the boy, no matter how frightening Lannor looked, he was first and foremost a protector. Once, he had even thought if he helped Lannor gather herbs, they might become friends. Donna had taught him that friendship required balance, mutual aid—not blind giving or taking. White wanted to help, and now the moment came.
The twenty or so guards advancing toward the prison saw the glow of Lannor’s power and the children’s cries, instantly realizing the disruption’s origin. They began shouting, calling for reinforcements to converge.
White’s initial shout of “Lannor!” became terror as the torch lines surged closer. But the fear lasted only a fraction. The boy, barely ten, found resolve in an instant. He bolted from the safety of the cluster of children.
“Go! Lannor! Hurry!” he cried, pounding on the wooden bars. “They’re coming! Do you run fast, Lannor? I’ve seen you move like the wind! You can escape! Turn now, you can get away!”
Tears blurred his voice, fear mixing with desperation. He had no notion of his own fate, yet still tried to pull another to safety. Lannor’s urgency exceeded even the boy’s.
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