Night fell over Green Pine Village, draping the farmlands in darkness. A lantern flickered weakly near Harwin's barn, its glow casting long, shifting shadows across the fenced-in field.
Leon stood by the wooden posts, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the land. The cool night breeze carried the scent of damp soil and hay, but beyond that—silence.
Too much silence.
Animals were supposed to make noise. Crickets should be chirping, the wind rustling the leaves, distant howls of wolves calling to each other in the forest.
But there was nothing.
Not even the faintest bleat from the remaining goats.
Leon exhaled slowly. This wasn't normal.
---
Harwin had long since gone inside, though he had left a pitchfork by the barn door—just in case. Leon didn't need it.
Instead, he crouched near the fence, brushing his fingers lightly against the wooden post. A small notch caught his attention—deep, thin, almost like a claw mark, but unnatural. Too precise, too clean.
Magic?
His experience told him this wasn't the work of a beast. At least, not an ordinary one.
A skill? A dungeon anomaly? Or something… worse?
His mind ran through the possibilities when—
Rustle.
Leon's body tensed.
The grass swayed unnaturally, as if something had disturbed it—but there was no wind.
He moved carefully, adjusting his stance, senses on full alert.
The wooden fence creaked faintly. Not from weight—but from pressure, as if something had brushed against it.
Leon narrowed his eyes.
He saw nothing.
And that was the problem.
Something was here. But it wasn't visible.
---
Stealth-type creature?
Leon's heartbeat remained steady as he reached into his belt pouch, pulling out a handful of crushed Moon Ash Leaves—a common alchemical ingredient that created a faint shimmer when thrown into the air.
With a flick of his wrist, he scattered the dust.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A shape emerged.
A vague, shifting silhouette outlined against the dust—its body long and slender, its limbs unnaturally curved. Not quite human. Not quite beast.
Leon's eyes sharpened.
A Phantom Stalker.
A rare creature, one that didn't normally appear in low-level zones like this. In his past life, he had only encountered them in high-level ruins, preying on players who didn't know how to fight something they couldn't see.
But what was it doing here?
The creature hesitated, as if realizing it had been exposed.
Then—
It moved.
Fast.
Leon reacted instantly, shifting his weight as the air around him bent. A blur shot toward him, an unseen force slashing at his side—
He twisted, dodging by inches.
A razor-sharp claw struck the wooden fencepost where he had been standing. The wood splintered, cracking under the force.
Leon's lips curled into a smirk.
So, it's aggressive.
Fine.
He was done waiting.
His hand shot out, fingers closing around a small, metal object in his pouch.
A Beast Tamer's Whistle.
It wasn't for taming—not yet.
It was for control.
And tonight, he would show this phantom predator that he was the true hunter.
---