Bear School Astartes

Chapter 5: 5. Attack!

”Crunch”, with a chilling gleam, the silver sword severed the last demon’s head.

The bearded strongman, expressionless, meticulously cleaned the filth off the sword with an oiled cloth, and then with a ”swish”, sheathed it back.

The monsters lurking within the magic fog had been entirely wiped out.

This task had proceeded just as Bordeaux had anticipated: effortless, easy... and economical.

Seventeen demons, if he had faced them head-on. Even with the Bear School armor, it wouldn’t hold against the hordes.

In the best scenario, he would have suffered some minor injuries.

Repairing the armor would cost at least thirty Oren, the silver sword’s blade wear another ten Oren, and drinking magic potions or applying sword oils added to the expense.

To make money as a Demon Hunter, one must calculate costs carefully.

Fortunately, his luck had been good recently.

Tightening the armor clasps that had loosened slightly during movement, Bordeaux’s cat-like eyes lifelessly looked at his ”apprentice”.

He now supported himself with the worn-out Velen Longsword, gasping for breath.

”Adjust your breathing,” Bordeaux commanded.

”Our emotions are erased during mutation, so we don’t fear. But the body’s crisis instincts will still erupt: adrenaline surges, energy outbursts, these are normal phenomena. Just adjust breathing, and our bodies can swiftly recover.”

Lann’s head hung low, hardly sweating, but in the unseen shadows, he was slightly surprised.

This was one of those rare moments of common knowledge imparted by his ”mentor”.

Usually, Bordeaux focused solely on enhancing his ”apprentice’s” combat capabilities.

Indeed, this time, Lann had saved him quite a bit of money.

Lann analyzed internally.

And when he wiped sweat from his forehead with his hand, raising his head again, he resumed wearing that icy expression.

Just like most in this school.

”Understood.”

He acknowledged the mentor’s guidance, and adjusted his already steady breathing to be more noticeable.

Then, instinctively, he drew the hunting dagger and began to cut off the demons’ ears as task evidence.

Bordeaux, meanwhile, utilized his knowledge to strip more valuable alchemical materials from the monsters.

Knowledge he hadn’t shared with Lann, nor showed any intention to teach.

”This fog wasn’t created by a Fog Demon, nor is it related to the demons. Have we completed the village’s commission?”

With a ”slash”, Lann cut off a long demon ear, its foul-smelling blood spattered on the ground.

The village’s commission was essentially aimed at reharvesting valuable mushrooms, yet the cause of the magic fog hadn’t even been elucidated, let alone dispelled.

The monsters were gone, but this fog itself was toxic to ordinary people.

”It’s none of our business,” Bordeaux said indifferently.

”The corpses are our proof of claiming payment. Now, there are no monsters in this fog, we’ve done our part, time to collect our fee. Fair trade.”

He glanced at Lann’s Longsword.

”Your swordsmanship is pitiful; you can’t even hold a sword properly. And stabbing the demons’ stomachs is a joke even farmers know — it barely impedes their retaliation before blood loss affects them. Lucky for you, the second one placed its head on your sword point, letting you confront a monster hindered by another corpse, or else your hand would have been torn apart.”

”I’ll give you another sword, but you owe me ten Oren.”

Ten Oren.

Even if the Bear School silver sword’s plating had been worn off halfway, the repair cost would be just ten Oren!

Yet Lann would receive merely another cheap Velen Longsword.

Which usually sells for two to three Oren.

Lann’s face showed no complaint, calmly accepting this transaction.

Counting the mutation potion expense, he actually owed his mentor over four hundred Oren.

This debt was precisely why Bordeaux retained him as a ”pathfinder”.

Whether Lann consented or not? That’s irrelevant.

Lann knew, if he continued following Bordeaux, he’d face not only monster and task risks, but also being shackled by debt for life.

Demon Hunters live long, with physical decline due to age being rare.

Thus, Bordeaux’s debt might burden Lann for centuries!

Nobody enjoys being in debt, especially not Lann.

Rustling meat cuts and throbbing blood-letting sounds persisted.

The monster blood’s stench spread far.

Bordeaux had already harvested all valuable alchemical materials from the demons, including claws, liver, heart, and more.

Yet his apprentice unusually hadn’t even finished ear-cutting.

The clattering noise was incessant, aggravating the Demon Hunter’s sensitive senses.

”What are you dawdling about?”

The man asked emotionlessly, disliking wasting time.

They’ve been in the fog for over twenty minutes, and even with the Demon Hunter’s toxin resistance, their breathing felt like burning.

Lann, back turned to him, seemed still engrossed with whatever he was doing.

”I’m trying to secure the sword guard... In Velen, I can’t be without a weapon.”

That’s a perfectly reasonable statement.

No one dares step out weaponless here; that’s asking for trouble.

Yet Bordeaux cared not for rationality, his voice turned colder.

”I said, I’ll give you one. Now, move immediately.”

The busybacked figure paused, then nodded reluctantly.

Facing Lann, who wasn’t fixing the cross-guard but was noisily striking it!

”Twenty-seven minutes, dragged it out till now...”

Compared to Bordeaux, Lann had only recently become a Demon Hunter; his toxin resistance was worse, his respiratory tract and lungs felt ablaze.

Presently, two crimson streaks flowed profusely from his nose.

Yet the young man’s expression showed indifference to the internal pain, solely calm determination.

”Enough.”

Rising to face his looming mentor, Lann wiped the blood below his nose.

”Teacher, we can leave.”

”Your sword,” Bordeaux didn’t move, just gazed at the apprentice’s cat-eyes. ”Is it repaired?”

”You’ve never taught me, so my effort was futile.”

Lann replied directly, meeting the mentor’s gaze without flinching; his expression mirrored Bordeaux’s.

The bearded man subtly nodded, turned, and moved toward the fog’s exit.

Lann followed suit.

Exiting the fog, they inhaled deeply in unison.

A Demon Hunter’s toxin resistance was high, but the body’s desire for clean air was instinctive.

While heading out, Lann maintained a position just one step behind Bordeaux.

He watched his teacher continuously.

The first breath of fresh air, even the least emotive Bear School, simply enjoyed the healthy air.

But the second breath.

”Breath... huh!?”

From keen senses detected something, Bordeaux’s expressionless face abruptly furrowed deeply.

This scent is... someone nearby!

Lann silently stepped back.

Then swiftly...”Whoosh!”*2

Two arrows shot straight towards Bordeaux’s face!

”Ha!!”

Exhaling sharply, the brawny, bearded man turned ferocious like a monster!