Bear School Astartes

Chapter 12: 12. Leave

Lann dusted off the dirt from his body and stood up.

His hand reached the handle of the halberd embedded in Bordeaux’s corpse.

”Squelch-”

With a gentle force, the deadly weapon was pulled out.

The sturdy corpse fell over like rotten mud, and Lann didn’t spare it another glance.

Their grudges were now settled.

Three soldiers who had long prepared the captain’s corpse on the side slowly approached.

”Have you finished talking?”

The Long Halberd Soldier asked cautiously.

Lann didn’t reply, he simply nodded and handed the halberd over, holding it by the tip.

Upon seeing this, the Long Halberd Soldier ground his teeth, but still reached out to take his weapon.

”You hold it so steady... and your teacher too. I’ve never seen anyone move so swiftly in such heavy armor... Are all Demon Hunters of this caliber?”

Without the Bear School Armor, or even slightly less resilient armor, Bordeaux would have died in the first wave of arrows.

Heavy armor is a warrior’s second shield—first is the warrior’s own combat skills.

”I’m different.” Lann released the handle and shrugged, ”Our school is stronger than the others.”

The Long Halberd Soldier began cleaning the blade’s blood and grease; cutting through flesh is no easy task. If you don’t clean it, it’ll rust come morning.

The Crossbowman next sought Lann’s opinion.

”Shall we take both bodies with us now?”

”I need to strip off his armor first,” Lann shrugged, gesturing behind at Bordeaux’s corpse, ”He’s given me this set of armor.”

The Crossbowman nodded earnestly, ”You should definitely keep it. I’ve never seen craftsmanship so refined; it must be expensive.”

His tone was full of admiration, and he embarrassedly glanced down at his own standard-issue armor.

As a regular soldier under the Velen lord, the finest armor he’s seen is the lord’s Family Inheritance Armor.

But in Velen, everyone knows their lord Viserad lacks the courage to take the battlefield.

That set of heritage armor might look lavish, but whether it still withstands a strike... that’s obvious.

Lann nodded in agreement.

”The craftsmanship is excellent, though repairing the large gash in the abdomen will cost a fortune.”

With the help of the three professional soldiers, Bordeaux’s Bear School Armor was quickly stripped off.

The Bear School is the only Demon Hunter school that equips heavy armor.

Armor like this, weighing close to thirty kilograms, getting back up after falling is challenging for ordinary folks.

Both donning and doffing require attendants’ assistance.

The trio dragged both corpses out of the small valley to where their four horses were tied.

Bordeaux and Lann’s mounts were also there.

”Once again, thank you, Demon Hunter Master. For the assistance in battle and for giving up the bounty,” the three soldiers bowed to Lann from horseback before leaving.

”We usually stay at Raven’s Nest, where Sir Viserad’s castle is. Whenever you have need, feel free to visit. No matter what others think, we will host you with the best.”

”Raven’s Nest, I’ll remember it,” Lann replied with a smile, not correcting their title for him.

A Demon Hunter Master exclusively refers to those capable of solo hunting large creatures.

Mature Griffins, Petrifying Chicken Snakes, Petrifying Lizards, Pterodactyls... the type doesn’t matter—they all possess the power to slaughter a ten-man squad.

Bordeaux had such accomplishments, deemed worthy of being called a master.

But even the ability to solo hunt large creatures wasn’t enough to avoid death in a human civil war, a battle of a vastly different mode.

To Lann, though he was far from being a ”master,” to those who might never leave Velen, why dwell on it?

”By the way, I have a question,” Lann casually asked. ”Why is Sir Viserad so ardently pursuing a murderer this time?”

People die in Velen every day, and although murder is a serious crime, as long as one doesn’t blatantly appear before the guards, the pursuit and arrest become mere formalities.

Lann had already planned to free himself from his mentor, but using this chase was a sudden thought.

Bordeaux had reason to kill directly, stripped of emotions by mutation, but not of intelligence.

”The guy’s just unlucky,” the Long Halberd Soldier pointed at the corpse on horseback.

”Auridon is a private land of some bigwig, I heard he’s a relative of King Veltrest or something. The said noble often holds dual-wheeled chariot races in Auridon. He mistimed it, and the murders happened just as an event was underway, demanding law and order. Lord Viserad couldn’t slack off before Vizima’s influential figures.”

Thus, what should’ve been a trivial murder turned into a job requiring a unit of professional soldiers.

This wasn’t ordinary ”due process,” it was a ”political statement.”

It made sense now.

Lann nodded, his relatively rich knowledge and education easily straightened out concepts hard to grasp for local commoners.

No longer dwelling on it, Lann waved farewell to the three soldiers.

The horse Bordeaux left was robust and spirited, its pure black coat gleamed with only four white-haired hooves.

An Obsidian Snowmare.

Lann stroked its nose, looking into its eyes.

The horse’s nostrils flared, exhaling, its gaze calm. Even without the Yakxi Rune, the horse was comfortably accustomed to Lann, as he’s been feeding it.

This was a warhorse Bordeaux spent heavily on.

Though not comparable to horses trained for heavy cavalry tasks, mastering at least four hoof movements to suit battlefield requirements.

Its physique was not in question.

An authentic Codwin steed.

This horse always fed better than Lann previously.

”Hrrumph.”

”Quiet, Bopai, settle down.”

Lann easily calmed the horse named ”Bopai,” the temporarily broken and ill-fitting Bear School Armor was set upon his old horse’s back.

Lann confirmed his own frame was still growing, yet the difference with Bordeaux remained large.

This precious armor while in his possession would require modifications besides mending its abdominal gash to wear.

Unsure if Velen had a Master Blacksmith competent enough.

The damaged Velen Longsword was simply abandoned in the bloody mud.

In its place, Lann strapped to his back two swords, their pommel weights crafted with bear heads.

Bear School Steel Sword and Silver Sword.

Upon gripping them, the young man immediately sensed the difference. It felt like a poor child wearing a shirt worth thousands for the first time.

It was a tangible feeling of ”expensive.”

The blade’s material, its subtle balance, the fine grip... against these swords, Lann felt his prior Velen Longsword was merely a flimsy piece of tin!

Bordeaux could sever four half-monster corpses in one strike, partly thanks to his strength and swordsmanship, partly due to the quality of his sword.

Lann fully realized this now.

Holding this grade of sword, he could kill his previous self wielding only a hunting knife in half a minute.

The young man’s hand lingered, stroking behind on the sword hilt while riding one horse and leading another, leaving the blood-soaked valley.

The clouds above coiled and churned; Velen close to the sea, its weather changing swiftly.

Just like the changes happening within Lann himself.

As he came, he was an apprentice Demon Hunter without control over his fate. As he left, he had killed his mentor.

Once again becoming the master of his life.

On horseback, the young man’s nostrils flared, inhaling the soil’s tainted scent.

”The wind’s strong, it’s bound to rain soon.”

Lann tightened his worn cotton armor, gently nudging Bopai’s belly, and the sturdy mare began to trot.

He needed to make his way to Auridon, the village where Bordeaux committed the murders.