Bear School Astartes

Lann answered Meno Kuhorn’s questions with composure.

He even took out an oiled cloth from the alchemy pouch at his waist and gently wiped the broad blade of the ”Turbid Stream,” cleaning it thoroughly.

”You seem to... not intend to kill me.”

Meno Kuhorn spoke woodenly, as if he had lost the ability to express emotions. Not nervous, not angry... just wooden.

”Lann of Sintra, I destroyed your country. So? Aren’t you planning to do something?”

The Demon Hunter’s hand paused in its wiping motion, but then resumed smoothly.

”I initially wanted to explain that I’m not from this country, that the name was initially just for convenience. But then I thought, I’ve done much for this country, and legally, I even hold a title here, so the name seems appropriate.”

”But you say ’I’m not planning to do anything’?”

The Demon Hunter’s cat-like eyes shifted slightly, scrutinizing the Niflgaard Marshal kneeling on the ground.

”I’ve already defeated you; your war has essentially failed. What’s left is just to complete the process of defeat.”

Lann slowly raised the ”Turbid Stream,” its blunt tip nearing Meno Kuhorn’s helmet.

The sword was so broad that even its slow movement stirred a faint whooshing sound.

With a ’click,’ the tip of ”Turbid Stream” rested against the Marshal’s helmet, and Lann eased up slightly, so that part of the sword’s weight forced Meno Kuhorn’s head to bow low.

Even in his numbed state, the Marshal’s body began to shiver instinctively.

His mind might have been temporarily shocked into abnormality, but his body remembered... it remembered what this sword had done!

His bodily response was beyond mental control.

”Yet I will spare your life and allow you to return to Niflgaard, Marshal Meno Kuhorn.”

The Demon Hunter calmly declared his decision.

And the moment this was announced, Meno Kuhorn stopped trembling.

He mustered all his strength, the grating sound of metal as he defiantly pushed up against his helmet, inching the tip of ”Turbid Stream” upward, locking eyes with Lann.

”You wish to humiliate me? Humiliate my honor?!”

His eyes were no longer wooden but bloodshot with fury.

”If you send me home burdened with infamy, you’d do better to kill me here! Do it!”

He appeared almost furious enough to leap from the ground and charge at Lann.

No matter how he struggled, Lann’s steady hand kept the ”Turbid Stream” pressed against his helmet.

As his grip relaxed, Meno Kuhorn was again forced to bow his head.

”I didn’t ask for your opinion, loser.”

Lann gazed down at the body shivering under the weight of a massive helmet.

”It’s not out of mockery or some damned noble sentiment that I’m sparing you. You should understand: I’m sparing you because I hope you’ll be of use.”

”Don’t misunderstand, I’ve never expected you to be some spy; that would be a waste for someone like you.”

”It’s kind of funny, really. I’m sparing you only because you’re one of the rational few left in the Niflgaard Army.”

”What are you talking about?”

Meno Kuhorn seemed to understand, yet did not want to. He asked incredulously.

”Look at the corpses scattered around. What choices did they wish to make in life? They gambled with fifty thousand of your Empire’s lives hoping for a glorious future!”

Lann said coldly.

”Going rogue, losing control, usurping power... whatever you call it. Your army is bordering on madness, Meno Kuhorn. What won’t the high-ranking officers do for merit, for status?”

”I know the expansion of the Niflgaard Empire won’t stop, and I know it’s delusional to think of toppling a stable empire in a short period.”

”But now I’m letting you go, hoping that you, one of the few sane ones, will lend some sanity to your army when it’s needed. At least when they want to do things less human... you can use your status and prestige to temper them.”

”Or at least, you should exert your influence at home and tell them... I’m watching, and what I’m capable of.”

The weight pressing on the helmet was lifted.

Meno Kuhorn raised his aching neck, strained by the burden, trying hard to glimpse the figure gradually fading away into the withered woods.

”And what about our men? Fifty thousand! Fifty thousand families!”

”It’s up to their luck. If they can survive the rout, so be it; if they die, they die, that’s all. You live because you’re useful, they were just criminals in war. Besides, to talk about family when facing punishment for their deeds... it’s absurd, disgusting. Don’t make me puke, Marshal.”

Meno Kuhorn’s iron-gloved fingers dug deep into the ground’s humus, unwilling yet afraid.

He had one more question.

Wasn’t Lann worried that after he returned, bringing this brand new communication system into the army’s upper echelons, he would become a troublesome enemy?

The potential of this communication system, though it had only come to him less than a day ago, he could already sense, thanks to his war instincts, the limitless possibilities within it!

Wasn’t Lann afraid he’d realize this potential, backed by the whole empire’s system and foundation?

Yet as the words formed, Meno Kuhorn opened his mouth, but never spoke them, even as Lann faded into the withered woods.

Because he knew the answer within; he just didn’t want to admit it.

That Demon Hunter only wished for him to maintain discipline and operational style in the future operations of the Niflgaard Army. And the subsequent increase in combat effectiveness...

He didn’t care at all!

Even if the Niflgaard Army grew stronger, it seemed of no consequence to him.

”It wasn’t supernatural powers that led him to the command post... it wasn’t... didn’t relate to those things...”

Meno Kuhorn knelt on the ground with his head bowed, murmuring vacantly.

He mumbled a truth he had just realized.

As the top strategist and tactician of the Niflgaard Army, he could still maintain basic logical thinking.

Just now, the Demon Hunter said, ”It wasn’t hard to deduce your retreat path.”

Based on this, aligning with the Demon Hunter’s bizarre performances in the previous battles, he concluded—

Lann’s tracking ability had nothing with the so-called supernatural; it was pure, terrifying battlefield intuition!

But this answer was more despairing for Meno Kuhorn than supernatural powers.

Supernatural abilities could still be countered, confronted; but how could one target intuition, based on a person’s fundamental skillset?

Unless your intuition was stronger than his! Significantly stronger!

In the past few hours, he had used the communication system he built to toy with two seasoned, talented Northern Kings like children!

But simultaneously, that Demon Hunter was turning their entire command post into a playground with severely limited information!

Meno Kuhorn realized... the unparalleled gap, and the powerlessness it birthed.