Chapter 12: leave

Lane brushed the dirt off his body and stood up, his hand resting on the handle of the long halberd embedded in the stomach of Bordon's corpse.

"Poosh—"

With a slight tug, the murder weapon came free. The mighty corpse crumbled like rotting mud, and Lane chose not to look back.

Their grudges had been settled.

The three sergeants, who had long gathered Bordon's body and waited nearby, slowly approached.

"Have you finished?" the halberdier asked tentatively.

Lane simply nodded, steadying the halberd before handing it to him.

The halberdier ground his teeth at this display but reached out to take the weapon nonetheless. "You can hold it that way and still maintain stability. You've got a good teacher. I've never seen anyone move so quickly in such heavy armor. Is this the standard for all Demon Hunters?"

Without the armors of the Bear School—or even if they were of a lesser quality—Bordon would have perished in the first wave of arrows. Heavy armor was the second guarantee of a warrior's survival; the first was the warrior's own combat skills.

"I'm different," Lane replied, shrugging. "Our school is stronger than average."

The halberdiers began to clean the blood and grease from their blades. After cutting down foes, weapons were difficult to use if left dirty; neglecting them would invite rust by morning.

The archers on the other side then asked for Lane's opinion.

"So, shall we take the two bodies with us?"

"I need to strip the armor off first," Lane replied, gesturing to Bordon's corpse. "He gave me this suit of armor."

The crossbowman nodded. "You should definitely keep it. I've never seen armor with such fine craftsmanship; it must have been expensive."

His tone brimmed with admiration as he glanced down at his own standard-issue armor.

As a regular soldier under the lord of Weilun, the most advanced armor he had ever seen was the battle gear of the lord's family. Yet everyone in Wyrun knew that their lord, Wiserad, lacked the courage to fight. His heirloom armor might still look impressive, but it could hardly withstand a blow.

Lane nodded in agreement. "The craftsmanship is excellent, but repairing the gaping hole in the belly will cost a fortune."

With the three professional soldiers' help, they quickly removed Bordon's Xiong School armor.

The Xiong School was the only order of demon hunters equipped with heavy armor. For an ordinary person, simply falling over in armor that weighed nearly 30 kilograms would likely incapacitate them. Putting it on and taking it off without assistance was nearly impossible.

Three sergeants dragged the two corpses out of the small valley, where four horses awaited them, the mounts they had ridden to this place.

"Thank you again, Master Demon Hunter, for your assistance in battle and for waiving the bounty." The three sergeants bowed from their horses as they prepared to leave.

"We usually stay at Raven's Roost, Sir Viserys's castle. If you ever need a place to stay, just stop by. We'll treat you like royalty, no matter what anyone says."

"Raven's Roost, I'll remember that," Lane replied with a smile, choosing not to correct their title.

"Master Demon Hunter" referred specifically to those Demon Hunters who could hunt large monsters solo—whether griffins, petrified chicken snakes, lizards, or pterodactyls, they possessed the combat skills to slaughter a squad of ten soldiers alone.

Bordon had such a record and could be called a master. Yet, even the most skilled hunter could fall in a human civil war.

For Lane, though still far from being a master, the title seemed unnecessary for those who may never escape Velen.

"By the way, I have a question," Lane asked casually. "Why is Sir Viserys going to such lengths to hunt down a murderer this time?"

People died in Visen every day; although murder was a serious charge, as long as the perpetrator didn't cause a ruckus in front of the guards, a manhunt was little more than a formality.

Lane had long since planned to eliminate his mentor, but the opportunity to do so amidst a manhunt was a stroke of luck.

"The guy was just unfortunate," the halberdier replied, pointing at the corpse on the horse's back. "Orrden is a bigwig's territory. I heard it's Lord Valtest's cousin or something. That knight often hosts two-wheeled cart racing competitions in Orrden. Unfortunately for him, the murder happened during one of those events, and he had to restore order. Lord Viserys wouldn't dare neglect the powerful in Virgina."

What had begun as an inconsequential murder now required a team of professional soldiers to handle the fallout.

This wasn't merely about "upholding the law"; it was about "making a political statement."

Lane nodded. His relatively extensive knowledge made it easy to grasp matters that might confuse the local populace.

Without further ado, he waved goodbye to the three sergeants.

The horse Bordon had left behind was strong and healthy, its glossy black coat interrupted only by its white hooves.

A mare, she was like a shadow in the snow.

Lane stroked the horse's nose and gazed into her eyes. Her nostrils flared as she breathed heavily, but her gaze remained calm. Even without the yakshi seal, she was highly receptive to Lane; after all, he had been feeding her for some time.

This was a war horse Bordon had bought at a high price.

While she couldn't match the horses trained by heavily armored cavalrymen—who could master at least four types of hoofwork in battle—her physique was impeccable.

An authentic Coddington horse.

Before this, she had been fed far better than Lane.

"Hee-haw!"

"Quiet, Popeye, quiet."

Lane easily calmed the mare, named Popeye, then temporarily draped the damaged and ill-fitting Bear School armor across his old horse's back.

He knew his frame was still growing, but the difference in size from Bordon remained significant.

Though the precious armor was now his, he needed to repair the large hole in its abdomen and adapt it to his physique.

He wondered if there was a master blacksmith in all of Wilun capable of such work.

He left the damaged Wilun longsword in the bloody mud, instead choosing to carry two swords on his back—the hilt ends of which were engraved with bear heads and counterweights.

The Bear School steel sword and silver sword.

As soon as he held them, Lane felt the difference, as if he were a poor child trying on an expensive shirt for the first time.

It was a sense of quality that was tangible.

The blade's material, its perfect center of gravity, the grip—all made Lane realize that the longsword he had been using felt like nothing more than a flimsy piece of iron.

Bordon had cleaved through the bodies of four and a half demons with a single slash; his strength and skill were undeniably impressive, but the quality of the sword itself was equally vital.

Lane fully understood this now.

With a weapon of such caliber, he could have dispatched a man armed only with a hunting knife in under thirty seconds.

His hand lingered on the hilt of the sword at his back as he and the two horses made their way out of the blood-soaked valley.

The clouds above stirred ominously; in Weilun, by the sea, the weather could shift in an instant.

Just like Lane himself.

When he had arrived, he was merely an apprentice demon hunter, unsure of his own fate. But now, as he left, he had killed his mentor.

Once more, he was the master of his own life.

On horseback, Lane inhaled deeply, taking in the earthy scent of the damp soil.

"It's windy; it's going to rain."

He tightened the worn cotton armor around him, gently squeezed the belly of his mare, and she began to trot.

He needed to head to Auréden, the village where Bordon had committed murder.