Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 7
Bordon’s trust in Lannor came from how thoroughly the boy embodied the School of the Bear.
Cold as a glacier, stripped of mercy. That was the impression Lannor had given his master the moment his witcher mutations were complete.
Most witchers of the School of the Bear were emotionally blunted. Because of that, they could draw steel and kill without hesitation, without the slightest burden on their conscience.
But for the same reason, even hatred came faintly to them.
They cared only for coin, and for the needs of their bodies.
Taken together, it meant they cared only for the maintenance of their own survival.
Bordon ensured Lannor’s safety and fed him. He was also teaching him the skills of a witcher.
The process was unpleasant, even cruel, but it was fact.
In Bordon’s view, Lannor’s thinking should not differ much from his own. There was no reason for the boy to hate him.
But there was one question Bordon had never considered.
What if Lannor had retained his emotions from the very beginning?
What if his witcher mutation had been ... perfect?
The cheap blade screamed through the air.
Bordon’s pupils shrank, and every hair on his body stood on end.
No matter how crude or worthless a Velen longsword might be, a sharpened strip of iron could still kill.
Lannor had chosen his moment well. So well that Bordon almost took it for coincidence.
By everything he knew of his apprentice, the young man should not have had the combat experience to seize such an instant.
Every muscle in Bordon’s body had already been set for a forward charge.
A preparation made a heartbeat ago, meant to kill the sword-and-shield infantryman outright.
Now those taut, rigid muscles had lost their ability to adapt.
The shift between tension and release took less than half a second, but in a sword fight, half a second was enough to decide life and death.
He had to surge forward. His muscles had already committed to it. Unless he wished to fall flat, he could not change course.
Emotionless thought served him well in that moment.
The hulking man, like a charging bear, slammed toward the infantryman.
Yet in that motion, Bordon rolled his shoulder with a strange, almost dance-like shift.
The scabbard fixed to his back swayed with it.
Crack.
Under the razor edge of his heightened senses, the Velen longsword struck square against the scabbard of the silver sword meant for monsters.
It was knocked aside.
Had it struck empty space, it would likely have punched straight through.
Lannor moved the instant he released the throw, driving forward toward Bordon. Seeing the result, his brow tightened slightly.
A witcher who had lived who knew how long, who had slain countless monsters. Even after estimating Bordon’s strength as high as he could before acting, Lannor still had to admit his master was formidable.
But that would not change the outcome.
The resolve in the young man’s eyes was like stone.
“He’s the only one wanted. There’s no quarrel between us.”
With a single line, Lannor snapped the halberdier out of his stunned daze.
Seeing the turn in the battle and the strength of the burly witcher, the soldier had no choice.
He leveled his halberd and followed behind Lannor.
A strong enemy made for a solid alliance.
Lannor’s throw could not be underestimated. Even now he was weakened by hunger, even after circling and exhausting seventeen nekkers.
But it had still been a witcher’s throw.
Bordon’s bear-like charge faltered, his body knocked off balance.
Yet the seasoned witcher’s experience and adaptability were frightening.
He did not fall from the sudden shift in weight. Instead, he gripped his sword in both hands and raised his arms high.
He abandoned defense of his torso entirely, lifting the finely crafted School of the Bear steel sword over his head.
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