Bear School Astartes

After speaking with Henrik, Lann finally found some time to exchange words with the Red Robed Witch at the entrance of Oton Chapel, who had been sitting in her usual spot.

Words belonged to the ’Awakened’.

"You’ve returned, Lann? This is really not a good time. Heh, hee hee."

Her arm, long and gnarled like a dead branch, still poised as if in worship, the Red Robed Witch’s appearance alone marked her as an undeniably dangerous figure.

But fortunately, Lann knew firsthand the genuine warmth beneath that terrifying exterior.

"I’ll take that as a greeting from you."

The Demon Hunter waved nonchalantly and crouched in front of the Red Robed Witch.

"Coming or not isn’t something I can decide, it’s out of my control, haha."

Even situated in the blood moon of Yan’an, Lann, feeling good about seeing an old friend, cracked a joke.

After the joke, the Demon Hunter’s smile faded as he lowered his voice to ask in the silent chapel.

"How long have I been gone? What’s the situation now?"

"The concept of time used by normal people is meaningless in today’s Yan’an," the Red Robed Witch said weakly as always.

"Then let’s use the number of incense as a measurement," Lann responded swiftly, or rather, this was a method he and Mentos discovered on their last visit to Yan’an.

In this city where even time has been twisted and toyed with by the Ancient Gods’ nightmare, those not awake think it’s just a long and cruel night of hunting, merely one night.

The awakened Hunters, however, having been in the twisted time too long, might have forgotten their own concept of time.

Explain to them ’a day, a month’ and they might just look blankly, unable to comprehend.

As expected, speaking of the number of incense, the Red Robed Witch had more concept.

Her fingers, resembling strange tree branches, pointed to one side of Oton Chapel.

"The jars there, the incense is all burned out."

She spoke with a hint of worry, her hands clasping as if in prayer.

"Even though Henrik, Gascogne, and Erin bring back some while hunting outside, it’s still far too little."

"Since you ended the time reversal, the incense here will no longer appear again."

"Ah, Erin and I have stayed in the reversal too long, we’ve forgotten the amount of things humans consume living outside of time reversal."

Lann listened, turning his half-crouched body for a glance.

Inside Oton Chapel, though not large, nearly half the space was filled with various sizes of clay jars crowded against the wall.

The place the Red Robed Witch pointed was among those jars.

With just a quick glance, Mentos roughly estimated the amount of incense burned.

"Half a year..."

Lann estimated in his mind.

Though hunters occasionally ventured out for resource supplementation, the quantity was small, not affecting much, maybe just making a month or two’s difference.

The situation is grim.

The Demon Hunter’s first reaction upon estimating the time was just that.

This isn’t due to the viciousness of monsters or anything else.

With Henrik, Gascogne, and Erin constantly roaming, few monsters across Yan’an could stand against them.

These beasts do not strategically combine power and numbers to attack hunters, as they have no brains.

The true concern lies with the remaining resources of the entire city.

The cityscape of Yan’an resembles Lann’s homeland during the Victorian Era of the Sun Never Sets Empire.

During this period, though resource abundance was considerably higher than before, storing methods hadn’t significantly progressed.

This night had stretched for half a year, and unlike before, it wouldn’t go through time reversal with the aid of the Foolish Spider Rom.

Now, how much remains within this city for the living to consume?

Just thinking about it reveals it’s not a promising issue.

What’s more disheartening is: one can foresee only worsening conditions ahead, not improvement.

This perpetually pressures every awake individual with a sense of urgency.

To escape the endless reversals and see change in the unchanging long term is a relief.

Yet once the reversal is broken, Yan’an has only one last chance to survive this monstrous bloody night.

If failed, there is no recovery.

"And it looks like now..." the Red Robed Witch said as she turned her tattered face beneath her robe toward the awakening Maria and Adeline.

"You’ve already ventured into that deepest, most dangerous nightmare, haven’t you?"

"That is the deepest original sin of the Hunters and the Healing Church." Lann nodded as he spoke solemnly, "Where is Erin now? I really want to talk to her about the situation."

"You’d better just wait here." The Red Robed Witch advised, "She comes back frequently, after all... there’s hardly any place left in Yan’an with a bit of liveliness."

"If you go out looking, you might miss her, and that would be trouble."

But the first to return wasn’t the alert Crow Hunter, but Gascogne.

"You’re back?" The Hunter, whose eyes were covered with a white cloth, now sported a different attire from the usual Yan Nan Hunter garb.

Lann tilted his head to examine, realizing that on his upper body, he seemed to have outfitted himself with parts from the plate armor of the Advanced Bear School Armor he had left here.

This greatly increased his defense capability, but seemed to hinder the signature lightning-fast combat style of the Yan Nan Hunters.

Considering that Gascogne originally wielded the Hunter’s Axe, a heavy transformable weapon, perhaps it’s quite fitting?

"Really not a good time," Gascogne nodded to his wife before sitting on the steps beside Lann, saying, "Yan’an is becoming more dangerous... and more depleted."

"Look, I can’t even afford to treat you to a meal anymore."

Lann crossed his arms, gazing down with ease at the foreign Hunter who was about his height when they first met.

"Whenever you see me, that’s always the first thing you say." The Demon Hunter calmly complained, "Couldn’t you say something nice this night? Just a few words?"

"Anyway, I’m back, what more can you do?"

As he spoke, Lann spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders.

The Smaug armor he wore emitted a heavy and solid sound.

"How’s the ’old antique’ armor I left behind?"

Lann raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

"Its style is indeed quite outdated." Gascogne chuckled, "But the thick armor plates do provide a sense of security. In this Hunter’s Night, it saved me several times."

"Armor needs to be practical, who cares if it’s outdated?" Henrik passed by the two, half educationally and half defiantly speaking. "What’s wrong with being old-fashioned, huh?"

"It’s great!" Gascogne immediately nodded, "I say, it’s great to be old-fashioned, it brings peace of mind."

"Look at Lann, his outfit now seems even more exaggerated."

In truth, under the design of the New Continent Expedition Team’s second group’s leader, Lann’s Smaug heavy armor was quite striking.

Solid and sharply defined in an ominous bone-white, with a dragon skin skirt hanging down from the waist...

While eye-catching, its design philosophy still leaned towards plate and heavy armor.

In the eyes of people from Yan’an at this time, it remained a style over a hundred years old.

Yet the style was surprisingly modern despite its ’old antique’ look.

Crow Hunter Erin returned to the Oton Chapel a little while later.

As usual, she was hurriedly dust-covered, with her crow-feathered cloak tangled and chaotic due to excessive blood.

Upon seeing Erin return, Lann paused his conversation with Gascogne.

The Demon Hunter patted the shoulder of the priest-turned Hunter, and Gascogne nodded knowingly.

Holding back the excitement of reuniting in this hopeless Hunter’s Night, they refrained from much larger talk.

The trio of awakeners—Lann, Erin, and the Red Robed Witch—stood in a small corner of the Oton Chapel, quietly exchanging words.

"You’ve returned..."

"Yes, my timing couldn’t be worse." Lann smirked, interrupting as Erin spoke halfway, "This has become the standard greeting now."

But after joking, the Demon Hunter immediately grew serious.

"Anyway, I’m back, pointless lamentations don’t matter. Let’s discuss something, Simon, a lucid Hunter, do you know him?"

The Crow Hunter, who had been standing against the wall, was wiping the blood off her leather gloves with a rag, a result of using the Vital Organ Strike.

Upon hearing the name, her medieval doctor-like crow mask lifted slightly.

"Simon? This time, did you meet him first?"

"Seems like you know him." Lann nodded.

"The number of times we’ve retreated is too many to remember," Erin noted matter-of-factly, "Lucid Hunters, as long as we haven’t lost our lucidity, we all know of each other’s existence somewhat."

"But I remember he was always obsessed with discovering the truth within a deep and terrifying nightmare... huh."

Though she said this, Erin involuntarily let out a laugh, unsure if it was bitter or indifferent.

"But that’s not surprising. For people like us, without obsession over something, we wouldn’t last."

As she spoke, Erin finally had time to glance past Lann’s frame at the two new figures in the Oton Chapel.

Even with the crow mask, her silence was obvious.

Clearly, Maria’s characteristic appearance was still recognizable, even though she had been dead for a long time in normal time. Erin still remembered or heard of such a Hunter.

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