Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 65
Head Devourer, Ubank. He took his two loyal hounds with him, and the small bundle on his back.
Lightly packed, he walked out of his own tent.
The neat, ready look of him made one wonder whether he had prepared this from the very beginning.
Outside the tent, he had only moments ago stood on that platform and promised rich rewards, whipping a pack of bloodthirsty, vicious thugs into cheers.
But now, no one cared about the platform that symbolized the chief’s status.
The thugs had been frightened out of their wits.
They were shouting and running about like headless flies, so nervous they looked ready to cut each other down.
This was what was called a rout.
In Lannor’s homeland, in ancient times, it had another name, panic spreading through the camp.
“Tch, tch.”
Ubank clicked his tongue, looking at his camp falling into chaos with particular regret.
He had no intention of stepping out to reestablish command.
That thing that was neither man nor ghost, that Witcher, was still killing at random.
Still killing.
Like a damned shadow.
Step out and command now, and if the Witcher caught sight of him, he might charge straight over and cut him down with one stroke.
Who here could stop him?
Besides, when a rout happened, expecting the camp to calm itself from within was less reliable than kneeling down and praying to the gods on the spot.
Unless an armed force from outside the camp intervened by force, a routed camp would not grow calm until everyone was either dead or had fled.
What was rather strange, though, was that Ubank, as the leader of the camp, showed only a very limited amount of ... regret for the force that was about to be destroyed.
Not grief. Merely regret.
As if what was about to collapse was not his life’s work, but only a convenient tool he had been using.
“Hey! Old Hanson! Stop, stop a moment!”
Head Devourer first tucked the valuable little bundle deeper beneath his clothes, then looked around and called someone over.
A white-haired, bearded old man running about like a headless fly stopped.
His lost, panicked eyes regained a measure of reason the moment he saw Ubank.
“Chief!” Hope suddenly rose in his eyes.
A leader. No matter what kind of leader, no matter his quality or character, there had to be someone leading. That was what a confused crowd desired most.
But before he could continue, Ubank cut him off.
“Looks like you’ve calmed down. Good. Come on, let’s find a few more good lads. We need to get the goods to the pickup point offshore, and quickly.”
With the two hounds following at his feet, Ubank kept walking as he gave instructions.
The quick pace of the exchange left Old Hanson, who had only just been confused and terrified, a little dazed.
“What? Chief, we’re leaving the camp?”
“The camp?” Ubank stopped, then turned back to look at Old Hanson in surprise, as if looking at a child making trouble.
“Have you gone stupid, Old Hanson? We only gathered together to earn a mouthful of food. Who knows who, eh? In this state, what is there left to save? Look after yourself.”
“The camp’s gone. The men are gone. But we still have to think about what comes next, don’t we? Men have to eat, and eating takes coin. Come on, listen to me. We pull together a few lads who still have their heads on straight, and while that Witcher’s killing far away from here, we hurry to the prison area, grab a batch of goods, and take them to trade.”
“We can’t take all the goods, true, but now we don’t have to split the money with so many people either, do we? Still a profitable bit of business. Then we have the buyers carry us a stretch away from here. Once we have coin, where can’t we live?”
The words were logical, clear, and concise, in sharp contrast to Head Devourer’s coarse, savage appearance.
Even Old Hanson, who knew barely a few written words, found his calm again under that speech.
“Makes sense, makes sense...”
The old man muttered under his breath.
“My two sons should still be alive. I’ll bring them in. You give me one more share.”
Ubank looked at Old Hanson with unexpected approval.
Not bad, old bastard.
Only once you’re safe, and need men to make money, do you remember you’ve got two sons ... that heart’s hard enough.
No wonder you lived this long.
“Fine. We all go find men, then haul goods to the little boats at the harbor. Whoever brings the goods gets the coin for them. Fair as fair can be. But there’s one bit of advice I ought to give you...”
“You say it. I’m listening!”
The old man quickly looked at Ubank with eager eyes. At that moment, Old Hanson trusted his leader’s wisdom completely.
“See those two wooden cages?”
Ubank put a hand on Old Hanson’s shoulder and pointed him toward two cages in the prison area.
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