Chapter 26: Chapter 26: Shared Power
Two digital screens materialized side by side in Kellar’s field of vision displaying the synchronized data streams of the bond.
[Host Status
Strength: 30 (20 + 10)
Stamina: 35 (15 + 20)
Intelligence: 45]
[Familiar Status: Shadowless White Cat
Strength: 50
Stamina: 100
Intelligence: 10 (1 + 9)]
Looking at the numbers, Kellar deciphered the logic of the contract. The master-slave link acted as a passive attribute siphon—the partner with the higher baseline stat transferred one-fifth of its value to the other. Because the white kitten possessed monstrous physical raw stats, he was receiving a massive boost of 10 points to his Strength and 20 points to his Stamina. Meanwhile, his own high mental capacity was feeding 9 points back into the beast, lifting its baseline intelligence from that of a primitive animal to the level of an average human.
"Wow, this is incredible," said Kellar.
While he was lost in his thoughts, analyzing the surge of physical energy anchoring his muscles, Mila’s sharp voice suddenly broke his concentration.
"Kellar! Kellar, look!" said Mila.
Kellar snapped his head around and watched as the tiny white kitten strolled out from the dense fog, dragging a full-grown Ring-Tailed Black Panther behind it without showing a single ounce of physical strain. The predator was dead, its body limp on the damp grass. A single laceration split its throat perfectly open, and its yellow eyes were wide with a glazed expression of shock, as if its final thought had been disbelief at what had slaughtered it.
The kitten looked up at him with pure smugness, its glowing eyes practically screaming for him to be grateful.
"I’ll make sure to give you an extra-large ration of milk later," said Kellar.
The cat nodded, its attitude shifting like a puppy eagerly waiting for its bowl to be filled.
"Let’s go, Mila. It looks like we’re definitely going to be the first ones back with a haul like this," said Kellar.
"Yes," said Mila. "Never in the history of the tribe has a young hunter brought back such a powerful predator. Everyone usually just brings back wild boars or monkeys."
Kellar quickly tied the panther’s paws together with some thick vines. Using his ceremonial blade, he chopped down a sturdy pine branch to create a makeshift carrying pole, allowing them to balance the heavy carcass between their shoulders.
"Should we skin it here?" said Mila. "The smell of fresh blood might attract other predators on the way back."
"No problem," said Kellar.
He chose not to tell her that every dangerous beast in the surrounding sector was currently fleeing from the tiny white cat as if it were a walking plague.
With the panther suspended between them and the kitten riding proudly on Kellar’s shoulder, they began the trek back to the village. Kellar kept his guard up, half-expecting an ambush from Tor or the other hunters, but the forest remained dead silent.
When they finally breached the tree line and entered the tribal grounds, they noticed that most of the participants had already returned. The atmosphere was heavy with tense energy. A group of early arrivals was celebrating loudly around the carcass of a small wild boar, while others sat on the dirt with bloody wounds, nursing their failures. A few hunters stood empty-handed, their faces twisted in furious, defeated expressions.
As Kellar and Mila walked into the center of the village, their makeshift carrying pole resting on their shoulders, Tor stepped forward from the crowd. He was surrounded by his lackeys, a smug grin plastered across his face as he pointed at the wrapped bundle. The panther’s head was hanging backward hidden behind the thick vines and the bulk of its torso.
"Look who finally decided to show up!" said Tor. "The pariah and his bitch brought back a stick! What is that, a malnourished pig? It looks like a thin, pathetic piece of wood!"
"He probably found a dead rodent and got scared!" shouted one of the lackeys.
The surrounding hunters burst into loud laughter, mockingly pointing at the seemingly slender carcass.
"Step aside, Tor," said Kellar.
Kellar and Mila walked straight to the center stone, letting the heavy bundle slide off their shoulders. The carcass rolled over, and the ring-tailed black head snapped forward, its large fangs bared in a death grimace.
The laughter died instantly. The entire village square went dead silent. Tor’s smug grin froze, his face turning pale as he stumbled back a step, staring at the glossy black fur and the terrifying claws of the predator.
Standing nearby, the tribal leader looked like he had just swallowed a giant, poisonous fly. His jaw hung open, his eyes shifting from the panther to Kellar furious and shocked that this pariah had humiliated his grandson yet again.
Instructor Krag stepped out from the shadows of the longhouse, his frame tense as he approached the carcass. For an elite warrior like him, killing a panther now was nothing special, but he remembered his own youth. When he had hunted his first ring-tail, he had almost been decapitated, barely escaping with his life. These beasts were fierce fast, and smart.
"How... how did you two manage to bring down an adult specimen of this size?" said Krag.
"We just tracked it and cut its throat," said Kellar.
"Don’t lie to us, little flame!" shouted the tribal leader, finally finding his voice. "There is no way a weakling like you and an injured girl could kill a prime ring-tailed panther alone! You must have found it already dead!"
"Check the wound yourself, Chief," said Kellar.
Krag knelt down, inspecting the clean slice across the throat. There were no signs of decay or scavenging.
"This kill is fresh," said Krag. "The blood is still warm. It was a single, perfect strike. I’ve never seen a young hunter display this kind of lethal precision."
Tor stared at the ground, his fists shaking with rage and humiliation as the rest of the tribe began to whisper in awe captivated by the monstrous prize the two outcasts had brought home.
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