News of the F-Rank Porter accepting the Shadow Panther quest spread through the academy like wildfire. It was the joke of the week. Students in the refectory would pantomime terrified running, clutching imaginary porter packs. Betting pools were started, not on whether he would succeed, but on how many pieces of him the recovery team would find. To the academy, it was the ultimate act of suicidal arrogance, a fool's desperate attempt to gain recognition that would only lead to a messy, anonymous death in the woods.
Zero was blissfully, intentionally ignorant of the stir he had caused. He spent the entire day after accepting the quest in meticulous preparation. He didn't sharpen a sword or polish armor. He went to the library. He cross-referenced Kaelan the Cartographer's notes on Shadow Panthers with the academy's own, more clinical bestiary.
*Kaelan's Journal: "The beasts hunt with the wind, their coats drinking the moonlight. Their true strength is not in claw or fang, but in the unity of the pack. To fight the pack is to fight the forest itself. Isolate one, and you fight only a cat, albeit a very large one."*
*Academy Bestiary: "Panthera umbra. Nocturnal predator. Estimated Agility: 25-30. Estimated Strength: 20. Possesses the innate magical ability [Shadowmeld], allowing for near-perfect camouflage in low-light conditions. Recommended strategy: Area-of-effect light magic to negate camouflage, followed by overwhelming force from a coordinated party."*
The academy's strategy was brute force. Kaelan's was finesse. Zero's would be a synthesis of both, corrupted by his own unique brand of tactical cruelty.
His second stop was Professor Finch's lab. He found the professor poring over a magnified projection of a Whisperwood Cap spore.
"Professor," Zero began, his face a mask of earnest concern. "I'm worried about Lord Marcus's guards, Gorok and Pike. I heard they're still having nightmares about the attack in the Fen. I was reading in an old herbalist's tome that the pollen of the Screaming Mandrake, when properly prepared, can be a potent sedative."
Finch looked up, his eyes gleaming with academic interest. "The Mandrake? *Mandragora ululatus*? A fascinating but highly dangerous plant! Its pollen is a powerful neurotoxin to most mammals, but you are correct, in minute, refined doses, it has been used as a deep-sleep anesthetic. A very risky endeavor, my boy. Why?"
"I was hoping to collect some," Zero said, his lie smooth and practiced. "To prepare a calming draught for them. I feel… responsible for what happened." He was weaponizing his reputation for kindness, using it to justify a need for a specific, deadly resource.
Finch, completely won over by this apparent display of compassion, didn't hesitate. "A noble sentiment, Ashe! Noble indeed! I cannot sanction you handling the plant yourself, it's far too dangerous. But I can lend you a specially designed containment unit and a set of harvesting tools. They will allow you to collect the pollen sacs without exposing yourself."
Zero left the lab with a heavy, lead-lined case containing a set of long-handled clippers and a hermetically sealed canister. He had his weapon.
That night, he left the academy grounds. He wore his new custom-made stealth suit, the dark, mottled fabric making him a shifting patch of shadow under the twin moons. He moved with a speed and silence that would have terrified his classmates had they been there to see it. He wasn't Ashe the Porter anymore. He was Zero the Hunter.
He first made his way to the location of the Screaming Mandrakes, a small, boggy clearing noted in the Journal. He found them easily, their pale, vaguely humanoid roots writhing in the mud, their leafy tops emitting a low, subsonic hum that was felt more than heard. Using the long-handled clippers, he carefully snipped three of the largest, most vibrant pollen sacs, their surfaces shimmering with a fine, yellow dust. He sealed them in the canister.
His next destination was the Shadow Panther den. It was located in a rocky, high-altitude region of the Amber Zone, a place of sheer cliffs and wind-swept pines. The entrance to the den was a large, jagged fissure in the rock face, the ground around it littered with the bleached bones of its prey.
Zero didn't approach the den directly. He climbed. His `[Abyssal Carapace]` gave his fingers a tough, chitinous resilience, allowing him to find purchase on the smallest of handholds. He scaled the cliff face opposite the den, positioning himself on a narrow ledge about fifty feet up, overlooking the entrance. He had the high ground. He was in perfect sniper position.
He waited. He became part of the rock, his breathing slow and even, his body perfectly still. Hours passed. The moons arced across the sky. Finally, just as the sky was beginning to soften with the first hints of pre-dawn light, they emerged.
They were magnificent, terrifying creatures. Larger than he remembered, each the size of a pony, with coats of pure, liquid shadow that seemed to drink the faint light. Their muscles rippled under their dark fur with every silent step. There were three of them, a full hunting pack. They stretched, yawned, and began a playful, predatory tussle near the mouth of the cave, preparing for their day's hunt.
Zero watched them, his heart a steady, slow drum. There was no fear. No awe. Only the cold, detached assessment of a predator observing its prey.
He took the pollen canister from his pack. He unscrewed the lid, revealing the three yellow, pulsating sacs. He knew from the Journal that the wind in this canyon was fickle, but it always blew from the west at sunrise. The wind was just beginning to shift.
He took his new Blink Dagger from its sheath. His plan was a three-part symphony of chaos.
*Movement one: The Bait.* He took careful aim and threw the dagger, not at the panthers, but at a large, dead pine tree on the far side of the canyon, about a hundred yards from the den. The dagger flew true, sinking into the dead wood with a soft *thunk*.
The panthers, their heads snapping up at the sound, instantly went on high alert. Their playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a tense, focused silence. They had detected an anomaly, but not yet a threat.
*Movement two: The Delivery.* Zero held the pollen sacs in his left hand. The wind was now blowing steadily from his position towards the den. He waited for the opportune moment, when the three panthers were clustered together, their heads turned towards the sound of the dagger. He didn't just drop the sacs. He crushed them in his fist.
A cloud of fine, almost invisible yellow dust billowed from his hand, caught by the wind, and began to drift silently down towards the unsuspecting pack.
The effect was instantaneous and horrific. The moment the pollen reached them, the panthers went insane. Their heightened feline senses were their undoing. The neurotoxic dust was like acid on their nerves. They began to choke, sneeze, and claw at their own faces, their eyes streaming. They hissed and roared in agony and confusion, their perfect pack unity shattering into a frenzy of individual torment. One of them, in its blind panic, began to viciously attack its pack-mate.
The forest was no longer their ally. Their greatest strengths—their senses—had been turned into weapons against them.
*Movement three: The Harvest.*
The panthers were disoriented, blinded, and fighting amongst themselves. This was his window. Zero focused on the dagger embedded in the tree across the canyon. He activated the skill.
`[Activating Blink Dagger.]`
The world twisted. He was on the ledge one moment, and the next he materialized beside the pine tree, his hand closing around the dagger's hilt. The sudden teleportation across the canyon completely disoriented the already panicked panthers. They now had a new scent, a new presence, but they couldn't pinpoint its origin.
One of the panthers, the largest of the three, finally shook off the worst of the pollen's effects. It spotted him, a lone figure standing by the tree. With a roar of pure rage, it charged.
This was what Zero had been counting on. He had isolated one from the pack. He was no longer fighting the forest. He was fighting a cat.
The panther closed the hundred-yard distance with breathtaking speed. It was a blur of black muscle and snarling fangs.
Zero stood his ground. He held the Blink Dagger in a throwing grip. He waited. Ten yards. Five yards. Just as the panther leaped, its claws extended, ready to tear him limb from limb, he acted.
He didn't throw the dagger at the panther. He threw it straight up into the air, as high as he could.
Then, just as the panther's claws were about to make contact, he activated the skill again.
`[Activating Blink Dagger.]`
He vanished.
He reappeared fifty feet in the air, directly above the leaping panther, his hand once again grasping the dagger. For a split second, he was suspended in the air, a dark angel of death looking down upon his prey.
The panther, its target having disappeared, crashed to the ground in a confused heap, its momentum spent. It was completely exposed.
Zero did not hesitate. He let gravity do the work. He fell, angling his body so that his entire weight was behind his descending knife. He activated `[Bone-Crusher's Strength]`, his fist glowing with a faint, dark light. He was no longer just falling; he was a living meteor.
He struck the panther directly at the base of its skull.
The impact was absolute. His reinforced fist shattered the thick vertebrae, and the simple skinning knife, driven by gravity and a supernatural enhancement, plunged deep into the creature's spinal cord.
The great beast went limp, its charge, its leap, its entire life extinguished in a single, perfectly executed, gravity-assisted strike.
`[Shadow Panther Eliminated.]`
`[Experience Gained.]`
`[User Level Up! Level 6 -> Level 7!]`
`[Stat Points Awarded: 5.]`
Zero landed lightly on his feet beside the massive, still body. He took a moment, his chest rising and falling, the adrenaline of the kill singing in his veins. The other two panthers, still half-blinded and now terrified by the silent, instantaneous death of their alpha, had already fled, melting back into the rocks.
He had done it. A solo F-Rank. A clean, flawless victory against one of the Amber Zone's most feared predators.
He looked down at the magnificent beast, its shadow-black coat shimmering even in death. There was no pride in his victory. No hunter's thrill. There was only the cold, satisfying click of a well-laid plan coming to fruition. He drew his skinning knife. He had a quest to complete. He needed a pelt, and three fresh hearts. The work was not yet over.