The Black Panther Clan's Scheme, the Past, and a Choice

Northern territory of the Black Panther Clan, Saga Kingdom.

Victor, chief of the Black Panther Clan, stood at the edge of a cliff. His amber eyes rested calmly on the eastern horizon. His face was composed, but a ruthless glint filled his gaze. Unlike ordinary Black Panther Clan warriors, he showed few signs of beastfolk heritage. Apart from the tail behind him, as hard as an iron whip, he looked almost entirely human.

He stood only around six feet tall, short by his clan's standards. His muscles were lean rather than bulky, giving him a sleek build utterly unlike Gabri's. His angular features were typical of western Beastfolk, and his skin was light brown. He was hardly handsome, but he was far from ugly. A white bone dagger hung at either side of his waist. They looked ancient, and rare materials had clearly gone into their making. A closer look revealed faint golden light flowing along their edges, while the magical gems set in their pommels were engraved with dense runic arrays. An astonishing aura of magic radiated from them. Hum!

Under the scorching midday sun, heat shimmered through the air. At some point, the clouds and mist around the Froststar Mountains had dispersed, revealing ridge after rolling ridge. Those were the mountain range's foothills. Beyond them, to the east, lay the northwestern pastures of the Bull Clan.

Victor was the Black Panther Clan's strongest chief in three hundred years and, like Gabri, a Crown Tier powerhouse. When it came to hunting, he believed his patience surpassed that of any other hunter. It was an instinct passed down through the blood of the hunting black panthers, one that could never be forgotten.

But this time, his chosen prey was far more than a single bull.

At a sudden thought, Victor's