Katherine’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but her gaze held a steely resolve. “He could’ve killed us all in our sleep with no one being the wiser. Yes, I am aware.” For a moment, the camp was silent except for the panther’s slow, rhythmic breathing.

  Lira swallowed, glancing at the beast curled up in Katherine’s lap, hoping her presence alone would keep it cocooned in slumber. “How are you not scared, Katherine?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, unsure whether she was addressing her friend or the formidable panther at her side.

  "You never answered my question,” said the bare-chested adventurer. “How did you do that?”

  “I just spoke to him,” Katherine replied, her voice calm and unwavering as she met the adventurer’s gaze. She kept her hand moving in gentle, deliberate strokes along the panther’s midnight coat—a silent promise of safety that rippled through the camp. In the hush that followed, it was clear her composure was not just for herself, but for everyone who watched, spellbound by the unlikely harmony between woman and beast.

  The mage-like adventurer, draped in robes and light armor, spoke up, "But that aura you projected—it felt like pure na?veté." He looked at Katherine, eyebrows raised in genuine curiosity.

  Katherine’s surprise was clear. "Is that truly what you sensed?" she asked, turning the question back to him. After a brief pause, she admitted, "To be honest, I experienced it as well, though it was more of a subconscious impression. My actions were primarily influenced by a notification showing that a skill had been activated. There was always a real chance that, had I acted differently, the outcome could have been the complete opposite of what I intended."

  What is its function?" Lira inquired, prepared to mediate should circumstances require.

  Katherine looked at the skill.

  Skill: Dual Presence

  Allows you adjust how others perceive you—one way for some, another for others. You decide what they sense, and those who notice will pick up only what you allow.

  Katherine read aloud the information she’d just received, her voice steady but betraying a trace of tension. The small group gathered around her listened intently, their faces half-lit by the remaining members of the campfire. Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the air—a sound so familiar that Katherine recoiled, her muscles instinctively tensing. Memories of chaotic skirmishes and warning signals from her past flickered behind her eyes before she forced herself to focus on the camp and the people around her.

  A young archer, eyes wide with curiosity, leaned forward. “What skill tree is that from?” they asked, glancing between Katherine and the spectral panther curled at her side.

  Katherine let herself breathe, grateful for the distraction. She quickly navigated away from the skill details, scanning the broader menu in her mind. “Combat,” she replied, her gaze sweeping over the circle of adventurers. She saw disbelief etched across their faces, the reality of her answer slowly sinking in.

  The burly swordsman, voice rough with sleep but tinged with awe, stared at her. “Dear gods, what level are you?” he asked, genuinely incredulous.

  “Three,” Katherine answered simply, feeling the weight of the moment. She glanced down at the panther’s head in her lap, its rhythmic breathing grounding her as she sensed the group’s growing agitation.

  Lira, her nerves visible in the way she clutched her cloak, gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. “How is that possible?” she whispered, her eyes darting to the other campers as a few began to stir, drawn by the commotion.

  From the edge of the camp, a mage groggily sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His gaze landed on the spectral dire panther resting quietly in Katherine’s lap, and confusion flashed across his features. “I... is that what I think it is?” he asked, voice trembling with both fear and fascination.

  Katherine exhaled deeply, bracing herself for the barrage of questions that would surely come with dawn. The exhaustion in her bones was matched only by the tension she felt in the air. “Yes, it is what you think it is. No, he won’t eat you. Yes, he’s tamed—for now,” she said, her tone calm but firm as she aimed to soothe the growing anxiety around her. She scanned the group, noting the mix of relief and lingering apprehension on their faces.

  Lira quickly chimed in, her voice gentle and reassuring. “Everything is fine, go back to sleep,” she urged, hoping her words would settle the mage and perhaps herself.

  Katherine turned her attention to the massive feline, her brow furrowed in thought. She stroked his midnight fur, pondering the practicalities of their new companion. “How am I going to feed you?” she mused quietly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t think this place has Meow Mix.” The attempt at humor was mostly for herself, a way to cut through the tension.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Lira cocked her head, confusion written plainly on her face. “Meow Mix?” she echoed, uncertain.

  Suppressing a weary chuckle, Katherine waved off Lira’s question with a small gesture. “It’s nothing,” she said, letting the moment pass as she focused on the panther, already feeling the enormity of the morning ahead.

  ...

  Come to find out, those who had been roused by Lira’s startled outburst found it nearly impossible to fall back asleep, the realization that a magic-infused predator now prowled their camp gnawing at their nerves. Whispers and uneasy glances rippled through the group, the gloom of night amplifying every imagined threat. The mage sat up against his bedroll with dark circles under his eyes, stealing wary looks at the panther curled beside Katherine. His thoughts chased worst-case scenarios, each one more irrational than the last.

  Lira, still hugging her knees to her chest, finally broke the tense silence. Her voice trembled, but curiosity won out over fear. “Have you thought about a name?” she asked, her tone still tinged with skepticism as she eyed the massive feline.

  “A couple, but I haven’t decided yet,” Katherine admitted with a faint, tired smile. She scratched behind the panther’s ear, drawing a contented rumble. “My naming conventions are terrible. Besides, he’s only a cub. I don’t want to give him a name before he has come into his abilities.” Her words were calm, but a thread of uncertainty lingered beneath her composure.

  Lira started to reply, but Katherine’s last sentence caught her off guard. “Wait, did you just say he is only a cub?” Lira’s eyes widened in disbelief, her breath catching. For a moment, the entire camp seemed to freeze—others sat up straighter, their expressions shifting from wary to outright alarm. The idea that the enormous creature was merely a juvenile sent a shiver through the group. What would it be like once fully grown?

  Katherine blinked, confused by Lira’s reaction. “Yeah, is that a problem?” she asked, glancing between Lira and the rest of the camp, searching their faces for answers. She couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what she’d said.

  A derisive scoff cut the tension. The mage, who clearly harbored little patience for Lira, pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “Huh. You’d know that if you’d never tainted your blood, witch,” he sneered, casting a sharp look at Lira. “Stop trying to corrupt the already corrupted.” His words hung heavy in the air, the old wounds between them flaring anew, even as the rest of the group tried to process the bizarre, uneasy peace that had settled over their camp.

  ...

  Later that day, following the afternoon meal, Katherine found herself once again unsettled by an empty feeling in her stomach. She knew she wasn’t truly hungry, but the sensation lingered regardless.

  Her meal was the same as before: some stale bread, a strip of jerky, and a piece of cheese.

  “Why am I hungry again?” Katherine muttered to herself, intending the words as a whisper while she walked alongside the group. The question tugged at her, a faint unease gnawing at her insides, as if the hunger belonged to someone—or something—else entirely.

  The group’s mage, usually disinterested in conversation, broke his silence with a practical inquiry. “Did you tame the panther?” he asked, glancing at Katherine and Lira.

  “I did,” Katherine replied, nodding.

  The mage continued, “Okay, what kind of bond do you have with it?” His tone was more helpful than before. “Depending on the bond, that could explain things.”

  “Um, let me check,” Katherine said, her eyes growing distant as she scanned her notifications.

  You have tamed a Spectral Dire Panther Cub

  The Spectral Dire Panther Cub is now your familiar through a Soul Contract

  “A soul contract,” Katherine read aloud, her gaze sharpening as she returned to the present.

  The mage let out a low whistle in response.

  Katherine recoiled at the sound, her shoulders tensing. “Can you not do that, please? I’ve had some bad experiences with things that make that pitch,” she said, her discomfort clear.

  “Sorry, I’ll try,” the mage said quickly, offering an apologetic half-smile. “But yes, that explains your bond.”

  “Okay? How?” Katherine asked, her confusion clear in her voice and the furrow of her brow.

  The mage explained, “It’s based on what’s known about soul bonds—or more accurately, the contract. From what the fighters said, you used your aura to subdue it, is that right?”

  Katherine nodded, recalling the tense moment.

  “So, in short, you pitted your aura against your familiar’s. Yours was more intimidating, and your familiar backed down first,” the mage clarified.

  “That still doesn’t explain why I feel hungry,” Katherine pointed out, rubbing her stomach unconsciously. A faint edge of worry colored her tone. “I even shared most of the jerky with him.” A vague sense of emptiness persisted, as if her hunger was somehow linked to the spectral cub beside her.

  Lira, gesturing at the panther now standing nearly waist-high on all fours next to Katherine, offered a practical answer. “Katherine, just look at the size of him. That jerky wouldn’t have been enough—especially if he was hungry enough to try and attack a group of armed people.”

  The mage nodded in agreement. “He’s probably waiting for a name, and for you to tell him he can leave your side to eat for himself,” he suggested thoughtfully. “Soul bonds often create a two-way link between the familiar and the owner.”

  “Fine,” Katherine acknowledged the point, searching for the panther’s status screen in her menu. When the prompt appeared, she hesitated briefly, feeling a strange mix of pride and nervous anticipation. Naming him wanted to cross a threshold—she wasn’t sure what might change, but she sensed the bond deepening.

  Are you sure you would like to use this name for Spectral Dire Panther [Familiar]?

  She answered in the affirmative, and the name was set. As the status screen faded from her mind, Katherine studied Lucifer closely, noticing how his ears twitched and his whole demeanor shifted—his excitement now obvious compared to the subdued body language he’d displayed moments ago. Suddenly, a rush of emotion flooded her senses, as if Lucifer’s anticipation and joy were pulsing through their connection. The thrill of his exhilaration mingled with her own pride and responsibility, grounding her in this new reality.

  Taking a slow breath, she finally spoke: “Shade, go hunt, but be careful.”

  Shade seemed to beam at her words, nearly vibrating with adolescent energy. As he bounded off into the brush, Katherine felt the lingering echoes of his excitement in her chest—a contagious energy that left her at once relieved, hopeful, and filled with a quiet, shared joy, even as a touch of worry stayed.