Chapter 9: the law of accidents

Demon hunters undergo magical modifications to their bodies, granting them lifespans significantly longer than those of ordinary people, resulting in a heart rate much slower than normal.

Bordon's bleeding, too, was much slower than it would be for a typical human.

Yet even so, with a halberd embedded in his abdomen, the demon hunter's blood pooled into a crimson puddle beneath him.

Both Lane and Bordon understood that time was running out.

The foul stench of monster blood, human blood, and the earthy scent of the meadow mingled into a nauseating odor.

Not long ago, Lane would have retched at such a smell in less than three seconds.

But now, as his boots sank into the pool of blood, sending ripples and a rancid odor rising, he felt nothing.

There was no denying it—he had been transformed by this world.

"You have, from the very beginning, completely embraced the mutation," Bordon struggled to say. "You have emotions."

Though his speech was halting, it was remarkable enough. The halberdiers nearby, who were busy retrieving their captain's body, paused in disbelief, dragging their fallen comrades further away.

At this point, a normal person would have already succumbed to death. Indeed, all demon hunters were mutants.

Without a care for the blood and mud, Lane sat down, facing Bordon, his bottom sinking into the soaked earth.

This was the most relaxed he had felt in a month.

He chuckled softly. "Yes, that's right."

As he spoke, he pointed to his own head with his index finger.

"I'm lucky. The mutation process didn't take anything from me."

Bordon's bushy head nodded slowly, the incredible truth buried within him.

The journey of transforming an ordinary person into a demon hunter is so excruciating that few can endure it.

Most demon hunters develop eccentric personalities, a phenomenon stemming not only from the physiological changes induced by the mutation but also from the mental distortion wrought by overwhelming pain.

And a young man like Lane, after merely seven days of mutation, was already crafting a plan to conceal his emotions?

"Are you kidding me?"

In a state of numb shock, Bordon recalled his first meeting with Lane.

A young man with such delicate skin that even a noble lady would envy him, a youth who would faint at the sight of a severed head. This was not a man who had endured suffering; he was hardly someone who had witnessed the brutalities of the world!

Bordon had often thought that Lane might be a blood relative of some noble family, accidentally exiled here due to a teleportation mishap.

But a fragile shrimp who had never faced hardship would not possess such will and insight.

As a demon hunter who had personally undergone the mutation process, Bordon knew that even the son of the proudest warrior would be reduced to mere clay during that ordeal.

Yet Lane…

"You're not the son of some distant nobleman, are you?"

Though blood dripped from his mouth, Bordon fixed Lane with a stern gaze, enunciating each word slowly.

"Even if you were the son of Veryst, I can't believe he would produce someone like you."

Verteus, the king of Temoria, was undoubtedly one of the most powerful figures in the land. He could surely provide his heir with the finest education and training, yet Bordon felt that someone shaped in that way could not possibly match what Lane was currently demonstrating.

No way!

Mind, patience, decisiveness—it was a chasm filled with the scents of ancient wisdom and blood! Lane understood his situation from the very beginning and had even formulated a countermeasure.

In terms of historical experience, Verteus could not have taught such a person!

Lane clutched the alchemy bag in his hands and shrugged.

"A bit of knowledge, a touch of wisdom, and a constant sense of impending doom from your oppression. Given my upbringing, that's not a difficult feat. Of course, I never claimed to be the descendant of a noble family."

"Heh, yes, it's all just speculation. You've never said anything," Bordon sneered.

But Lane suddenly looked up, eyes wide. "Did you just smile?"

The weakened giant was surprised by his own response and hesitated before nodding. "Smile? Maybe. Perhaps the heavy bleeding has dulled the ingredients that suppress emotions in my body. I might even hate you now, but it's too late, right?"

Bordon's beard cracked into a wry grin, his leather gauntlets resting on his belly, where the gaps in his armor were already soaked with his own blood.

A slight movement would cause it to overflow.

Yes, at this stage of bleeding, nothing else mattered.

"It seems you have indeed regained some emotions in your final moments. Interested in discussing it?"

"Discussing?" Bordon forced an unpracticed smile, using his last strength to wriggle on the ground, which only caused more blood to seep out.

"What do we have to talk about?"

"Let's discuss why you 'saved' me. I doubt you would have rescued a penniless peasant."

Lane crossed his arms, staring at his teacher with keen interest.

He had been handed over to Bordon by the "law of accidents"—by fate—straight from the hands of a farmer.

The apprenticeship, with its hellish nine-deaths-in-one-mutation process and the ever-present sense of doom, had all begun with this "delivery."

Lane was smiling now, but that didn't mean he didn't care.

On the contrary, he vividly remembered the day he was handed over like a slave.

Now, with nothing left to lose, Bordon began to speak.

"Ah, the law of accidents. Oh, that was quite the accident."

The bearded man laughed weakly, then explained the details of the transaction to Lane.

Bordon was driven by money; to him, the suffering of farmers was no more significant than the weeds growing by the roadside. He would never forfeit payment for saving someone's life while pursuing a task.

Even if the other party hadn't posted a sign recruiting demon hunters, even if they were a farmer struggling to feed their family, Bordon would still demand compensation. This was an unwavering principle of the bear demon hunter.

However, he also understood that in the impoverished town of Velen, a farmer might be so destitute that he couldn't scrape together even half a tael of oil. Thus, the thought, "I must get something—anything! I can't return empty-handed," compelled him to invoke the law of accidents.

So, when the unfortunate farmer, wearing a mournful expression, brought Bordon home and opened the dilapidated door to let him take something according to this law, the young man who had inexplicably crashed through their roof and lay among the weeds was, of course, the obvious choice.

It was true that slavery was illegal in the northern countries. But a man who appeared out of nowhere, without any identification or proof of residence, could not be considered a "person" in any dynasty or country.

So the farmer quickly stripped the young man of the seemingly decent clothes he wore and, claiming ownership of all that he possessed, kicked him out of the house alongside the mutant.

"It was an experience like this—nothing grand or surprising—that proves not every child of destiny is destined to become a legend. Just as you, for instance, are not," Bordon said mockingly.

He was becoming more human, but that also meant there was less and less blood in his body.

"However, for me, a lowly demon hunter, your appearance was far too coincidental and absurd. Even when I was emotionless at the time, I was unwilling to take the risk of defying fate and casting you aside. So, despite demon hunters' tendency to work alone, I ultimately accepted you as one of my own kind. Fortunately, you've performed well; aside from the herb-testing potions, you've already started bringing in a profit for me."