Mark didn't turn immediately, but Ethan noticed the slight tightening of his grip on his weapon before he answered. "We tracked it for three days. Finally caught up to it just before dusk, near the river bend past the cliffs. We had it cornered—or at least, we thought we did."

Toren let out a low grunt. "Bastard was playing with us the whole time."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Playing?"

Mark exhaled sharply. "Yeah. It didn't attack right away. It let us get close, let us believe we had the upper hand. Then it struck, took out our backline before we even realized what was happening. By the time we regrouped, three of our men were already dead."

Lia sucked in a sharp breath beside Ethan, but he remained expressionless. He had expected this much. If this thing had survived so many hunts, then it wasn't just a strong beast—it was intelligent.

"So you're assuming a larger group will stop it from pulling that trick again?" Ethan asked.

Gale scoffed. "Numbers ain't everything, but they help. More eyes, more weapons, better chances."

Ethan did not voice his thoughts. If their positioning was weak, if their group wasn't coordinated, it wouldn't matter how many they were. The panther would simply pick them off one by one again.

The group continued to walk in silence. After some time they took a short break when Lia inched closer to Ethan and worriedly asked. "Master, what are we doing here? Isn't this a bit too dangerous?"

"It is dangerous," Ethan admitted, his voice low enough that only Lia could hear. He leaned against a tree, pretending to adjust his gear while keeping an eye on the rest of the group. "But that's exactly why I joined."

Lia bit her lip. "But what if—"

"I won't die." Ethan cut her off, his voice carrying an edge of confidence that left no room for doubt. "I've got a plan. Just trust me on this."

Before she could say anything more, Mark signaled for the group to get moving again. The break was over.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, Ethan remained hyper-aware of his surroundings. Every rustling leaf, every shift in the wind—he noted it all. The Blackfang Panther was smart. If it had played with the last group, it would do the same now.

Soon, Mark raised a fist, signaling the group to halt. "We're close," he murmured, barely above a whisper. His eyes flicked toward the trees ahead. "This is where it was last spotted."

Toren and Gale exchanged glances. The others adjusted their grips on their weapons, shifting uneasily. Ethan noticed a few of them had a slight tremor in their stance. Good. Fear meant they knew the risk. He also noticed that all of them were melee weapon users.

Mark crouched down, examining the ground. His gloved fingers traced over a set of massive claw prints embedded in the dirt. "Still fresh," he muttered. "It's watching us." As if to confirm his words, a sudden rustling came from the treetops.

Ethan didn't hesitate. "Scatter!" he barked, just as a blur of black streaked down from the canopy. A scream tore through the air as one of the hunters was ripped from the group, his body vanishing into the shadows. Blood sprayed against the leaves in a fine mist.

Panic set in immediately. "Shit—where is it!?" Gale spun wildly, his blade raised. "What happened to Brady?"

Ethan narrowed his eyes, scanning the darkness between the trees. The panther wasn't just attacking—it was setting the tempo. It was controlling the hunt. If his calculations were correct, it was going to charge again. Very soon. And this time, he was prepared for it.

Ethan steadied his mind as energy started gathering in his palm. Dense, concentrated mana flared to life in his grip, forming into a pulsating violet sphere. His eyes locked onto the treetops where the panther had vanished.

The branches trembled again, a flicker of movement darting between the shadows.

There.

Ethan didn't wait. He launched the mana bolt directly at the shifting silhouette. The attack streaked through the air, colliding with the trunk of a towering oak. The explosion sent bark and debris flying, momentarily illuminating the darkness.

A guttural snarl ripped through the forest as the Blackfang Panther was forced to drop to the ground, barely avoiding the blast. Its sleek black fur bristled, and its gleaming yellow eyes locked onto Ethan.

Mark and the others froze for a split second before regaining their senses. "It's down! Surround it!" Mark ordered, his voice sharp as he signaled the others into formation.

The panther did not stay still. It sprang sideways lashing out at another person when Gale struck it with his sword, the blade grazing its flank but failing to slow it down. The panther twisted midair, landing with fluid grace before launching itself toward the nearest hunter.

But by this time, another sizzling mana bolt was ready and this time it came straight for the panther's head.