Hunter Report #2: The Hunt of the Zebear

Allen ran out of the city with haste. He left the way he came in, down the main road and into the forest. As he entered the forest he slowed down to a walking pace. He reminisced on the time he left the forest. His wounds had healed when he woke up and he felt refreshed. Though his reminiscing quickly turned into the recounting of a nightmare. He shivered as he thought about his feelings of seeing bones lay in front of him.

The bones were misplaced and haphazardly thrown around. At first he couldn't remember what creature it belonged to, but the horns and wings served as a stark reminder to his grim reality. "I've failed humanity," he muttered. He frantically collected the remains and buried them under the same tree the baby was sleeping at during his rant.

Ashamed of himself he began running back to the farm. "I have to tell master everything. I can't lie to him about this." Yet he only took a few steps before he stopped and noticed that his wounds were completely healed. "Is this the work of magic? Master told me I wasn't ready to learn magic. Is this the ability I was born with? Why awaken now of all times?"

Allen pondered for a moment, recollecting all the small teachings of magic that Sir Harry Truman mentioned to him over the years. He smiled as he wiped blood away from his lips. "I'm a one in a trillion person. Yeah, a dragonborn can be born once every few centuries. But I guy like me? This is a once in a thousand years magic."

In this world, all humans are born with mana and the potential to use magic. However the starting point of a human's proficiency over magic is said to vary from being akin to a dragon or that of an newborn ant. Meaning despite having potential for magic, it could take someone 20 lifetimes before they can perform a basic application of mana. That also means that it was possible for a newborn to use advanced spells that not even some witches in training can master.

Allen Z. Truman was simply not that guy however. Throughout most of his time on the farm Allen displayed nearly no sign of a magical ability. Except on one occasion when other children on the farm dared Allen to eat a snail. Unbeknownst to Allen he had eaten a snail with a modicum of magical proficiency. It wasn't too bad of a snack to Allen, but a few moments later he passed out. The children brought Allen to Sir Harry Truman, but by the time they had reached Harry, he had woken up.

Harry kept Allen next to him for the entire day, and for the first time in the 9 years he was alive. Allen read a book from start to finish without any help. Rumors have it that Allen watched one of the mistresses of the house read out to the children, and on that particular day he simply connected the dots.

After Allen made his revelation of being a special magical person, he made his way toward a nearby river. There he cleaned himself up, and threw away the dirty stained white shirt that he had wore for the past year. He kept his brown pants on as he began making his way toward the city shirtless.

Now after getting the quest to hunt the zebear he made his way front he entrance of the forest to the river where he bathed. He found the stained shirt he once wore, he held it in his hand for a moment before he set it back down. Now he wears a cleaner white tunic and black breeches that ended shortly above his ankles.

He stood at the bank of the river, as he looked across it. The sun had just passed the trees on a humid late June day. The breeze was refreshing, and the smell of fresh water and nature accompanied it. Allen inhaled it all in with his nose, held it, then exhaled it out. As he exhaled small streaks of fire came out of his nose.

"It's time for a hunt," Allen exclaimed as he lowered his body and brought his hands up. His breathing was steady, as he thought back to the last time he was here. Within minutes of washing himself, he heard a neighing growl that sounded like the snoring of a grand giant with a stuffed nose.

Allen waited for another sign of approach, the moving of trees, the rustling of leaves. The zebear was a low grade legendary creature. The combination of a zebra and a bear, its appearance is striking and frightening. Imagine for a moment a pizzly, a polar bear and grizzly bear hybrid, with the legs of a zebra. Most zebears average around the length of 10 feet. However even on all fours they tower even the tallest of humans. Despite their massive size, most hunters grade it low due to its inability as a species to posses mana.

Once Allen got a glimpse of movement from the trees, he tensed up. The neighing growl got louder as his legs began to shake. The refreshing breeze transformed into a chilling strike against Allen's skin. The hair on his limbs raised. From the tree leaves came the face of a bear with white fur and dark eyes. It had a burn scar under it's right eye. The smell of death accompanied the chilling strike. Allen's breathing got faster.

"Come at me," Allen challenged the zebear as haunting memories of it attacking him in the middle of the river rushed into him faster than the flow of the river. Just as fast as the memories flowed, the zebear's face disappeared back into the forest, before the zebear dashed through the trees breaking four in half. It splashed onto the river, it's mouth opening, revealing it's large and sharp teeth. As it approached, Allen's pupils became that of a snake, his green and yellow heterochromia eyes tinted red.

Flames erupted from his hand, as he took a step back and slipped on a wet pebble. He stumbled a bit, but his eyes were focused on the zebear, he swung his hand back as the flames disappeared. He attempted to force himself to an upright position, but his upper body was leaning. The zebear leaped again, from the middle of the river toward the bank where Allen stood. Allen closed his eyes for a moment. before the flames ignited his hand once more. Using his other arm, he put up a guard, the reason, no one truly knows, but rumors have it-

BAM

In the blink of an eye, the zebear had a charred imprint of a fist on its chin. Its mouth forced closed with so much force that teeth flew out and splashed into the river. All the while, Allen had completely fallen onto the bank, he laid on his back as his fist was pointed upwards. Sparks exploded from his hand as the zebear crashed onto the river, it too laid on its back. Allen chuckled, "You like that! This won't be a repeat of last time."

Allen quickly got up, his breathing was still fast, but he slowly calmed it down. Within seconds he was breathing regularly, some breaths even leaving streaks of flames flowing out of his mouth.

On every application to the Hunter's Guild there lies a section titled magical capabilities. In that section the applicant must reveal to the Hunter's Guild every aspect of their magical ability. There are three key details that must be revealed. One, is the applicant capable of basic mana application. Two, is the applicant capable of casting magic spells. Three, was the applicant born with a magical ability that displays capabilities and potential outside of basic mana application and the casting of magic spells.

On Allen's application, he put down; "I am extremely capable in applying basic mana, though I've never done it. I most likely can cast a magic spell, but I have never done it. I was born with the magical ability that I dub, Thieves' Thirst, I'll come up with a better name later. It sounded cool to me. I have the ability to eat creatures with magic and borrow their power."

The zebear struggled to roll itself back on its legs. Once it did, it shook off the water that got on it's fur, splashing water all over the place and even on Allen. The water blinded Allen for a few seconds as a few droplets got into his eyes. The zebear took it as an opportunity, but it was slow to its approach. The charred imprinted fist had done damage. It attempted to shake off the feeling of a rattled brain, but it could smell it's own burning flesh. Which only made it more upset.

In the time it took for Allen to recover his eyesight, the zebear had made a dash down the river and into the forest behind the bank of the river. Allen looked frantically around for where the zebear could have gone. Unbeknownst to him the zebear had gone behind him, it wasn't until the sounds of heavy hooves hitting sticks, rocks, and hard wood pierced Allen's ears. Prompting him to turn his whole body around. He jumped in the air for a moment to firmly plant his feet deeper into the rocky bank.

However while he was in the air, the zebear broke through the line of trees in front of Allen, its mouth was opened as it crashed into Allen. It did not stop moving after crashing, it quickly chomped down, its teeth pierced through Allen's flesh like soft cheese. Blood rushed out of Allen's body as it tossed him down the river. While in the air he thought, "I'm not going to bury this thing." Allen splashed into the water as he was submerged it neighed. The flow of the river carried Allen down, while water rushed up his nose and the beautiful clear river was stained red.

Allen grimaced at the pain, but he managed to surface from under the river. He tried to catch his breath, and cough out as much water as he could. The zebear, noticing this began to growl, and make a charge for Allen. The river was not that deep, Allen was able to stand in it and have the majority of his upper body above water. He stared at the beast coming at him and smiled.

He stood firm and ignited both of his hands. The flames danced like innocent children. He made a gentle gesture with his body, no his soul, it declared a struggle in which he was the one that stood victorious at the end of. Through animal instinct or devilish connection in nature, the zebear understood the gesture without any thought. It opened its mouth and attempted to eat Allen in one gulp, but before it could reach him. He jumped. The flow of the river pushed him back just slightly enough for the zebear to begin closing its mouth.

Allen instinctively planted his feet onto the floor of the river. He inhaled and exhaled out a streak of flames. He grabbed the zebear's mouth, his left hand on top of its jaw and his right hand underneath. He tried to force its mouth to close, but the zebear resisted. Each muscle fiber of the zebear attempted to reopen its mouth, but it failed before the power behind Allen's grip and heat protruding from his hand that quickly weakened the zebear's jaw. Yet the zebear in an attempt to survive, began pushing its legs against the floor of the river.

Allen was pushed further down the river, but he kept his firm stance. It was as though his feet were hugging the ground, begging for dear life as the ground scraped away at his soles to the point of blood coming out. He grimaced at the pain, but he gritted his teeth and put his back into shutting its mouth. The beast gave in, the burning of its mouth had reached the bone. As it's jaw closed, more teeth crushed and broke inside its mouth.

Allen screamed, as he removed his right hand and swung his right arm back. He made a fist and swung at the side of the zebear's face. The force was immense enough to cause the head of the zebear to begin moving in the direction of the punch, his body was likely to follow after. However, Allen, in the same swift motion as his right hand, moved his left hand and swung his left open hand. He slapped the other side of the zebear's head causing its brain to rattle and crash into the walls of its skull. The zebear's body on the other hand was sent flying into Allen's side of river bank.

As it bounced and slid off of the wet rocky ground of the bank, Allen continued his assault and launched himself toward the direction the zebear was launched to. He left behind bloody footprints and sparks. As he approached the zebear, it stopped sliding and laid on its side. Allen's hands lost their spark and flames, as he slowed down. His heart was racing as he noticed the zebear's condition.

Its breathing was slowing down with soft growls and neighs. Allen stood in front of it for 4 and a half minutes. He stared at the carcass until it stopped breathing all together, then when a pool of blood began to form around its head, and then another few seconds. Allen blew his nose and scratched it, his eyes returned to the regular pupils he had grown up with. His green and yellow eyes lost their red tint.

"This is death," Allen mumbled.