Tutorial (17)

  -----

  "Bernet, how many days it has been?"

  Fiona asked, her voice calm yet tinged with a note of anticipation as she lounged in her seat.

  Her fingers gently drummed against the armrest while her pink eyes remained fixed on the massive blue screen before her.

  "It’s the sixth day, my lady, and tomorrow it would be over."

  Bernet replied, his tone polite but tinged with surprise, as always.

  He stayed by Fiona’s side, the soft rustle of his small wings the only sound breaking the silence of the observation chamber.

  "Yeah, it has been just six days but this strange player has already achieved so much!"

  She said, a hint of disbelief mixed with admiration in her tone, as her gaze sharpened on the screen’s display.

  In the screen, the player was seated upon a gruesome throne made of the lifeless corpses of various monsters.

  Twisted limbs, fangs, and scales formed a grotesque mound around him, soaked in fresh blood and torn flesh.

  The ground was blackened with soot and steam where various had fallen, and the once-lush forest floor had become a battlefield of carnage.

  "Yes, my lady. It all began after he obtained the Ironblood Regeneration."

  Bernet said, folding his hands he recalled the moment.

  Ironblood Regeneration—an insane ability that allowed the user to recover from wounds with terrifying speed, even during combat.

  It turned pain into strength and blood loss into power.

  An ability befitting only a madman—or a true warrior.

  After obtaining it, that player had gone on a rampage.

  He slaughtered every creature that dared cross his path.

  Shadow wolves, Ironhide Bear, Forest Boar, Razor fox, whatever came.

  He kept on hunting without pause, his body moving with ruthless precision day and night alike.

  Whether beneath the sun’s blaze or in the shadows of the moon, his blades remained unsheathed.

  Except for when his fatigue reached a critical point, he didn’t stop.

  And even then, he only paused briefly, his face pale, his breath heavy, before rising again with that same, relentless glare.

  If there had been any method to heal fatigue besides rest—he surely would’ve used it.

  But even with mortal limits, he pushed himself beyond reason.

  'If that's not madness then what is?'

  And by now… he must’ve earned the title of Wolfslayer.

  "Yeah, but still it won't be enough to defeat Hati."

  Fiona said, her voice lowering slightly, as if speaking the name summoned something ancient and dreadful.

  Her eyes narrowed with a quiet unease.

  "Who knows, my lady, but I can't wait for their fight."

  Bernet said, allowing himself a faint smile.

  The thrill of an impending clash between them stirred something even in him.

  "Well, let's just wait and see!"

  Fiona said with a gleam in her eye, leaning back as the glowing screen shifted to a wider view of the ruined forest where the player still sat motionless on his throne of corpses.

  "It would be a battle between two monsters!"

  She added, the words more prophecy than observation.

  Bernet nodded, his eyes reflecting the flicker of the screen as the image focused on the player’s blood-drenched silhouette—silent, still, and waiting.

  ----

  "Hoo!"

  I let out a slow breath, the air heavy with the scent of blood, sweat, and the decaying remnants of countless monsters.

  The battlefield around me was a graveyard—a macabre scene of torn and dismembered creatures, the evidence of my relentless rampage.

  Every strike, every kill, had been a part of the process.

  And now, the fruits of that effort lay in front of me, the lifeless bodies of various beasts sprawled across the ground.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The metallic scent of blood mingled with the putrid odor of decaying flesh, drifting in the wind and seeping into my nostrils.

  It was an unmistakable sign of victory, though not one that would be celebrated.

  "Wow! Damn!"

  I looked below at the armor made up by bear hide.

  It was already colored in various color.

  And so was my white shirt.

  "Forget it. I'll will change it later on!"

  I muttered out and then–

  'Status window!'

  Without hesitation, I called forth my Status Window, the familiar blue screen flickering into existence.

  --

  [Player Status Window]

  Name: Rago

  Class: None

  Level: 20

  Affiliation: None

  Trait:

  Cold-blooded

  Core Attributes:

  - Strength (STR): 50

  - Agility (AGI): 53

  - Intelligence (INT): 50

  - Vitality (VIT): 43

  - Dexterity (DEX): 48

  - Endurance (END): 47

  Additional Attributes:

  - Perception (PER): 22

  -Willpower (WIL):17

  -LUCK : 10

  Combat Stats:

  - HP: 1,720 / 1,720

  - MP: 1,525 / 1,525

  - Fatigue: 2

  Skills

  Innate Skill:

  - Glimmering Eyes (Unique)

  Passive Skills:

  - Ironblood Regeneration

  Active Skills: None

  Titles:

  - Wolf slayer

  Progression & Resources

  - Tower Points (TP): 13,000

  - Status Points: 0

  ---

  [Ironblood Regeneration]

  - Type: Passive

  - Mana Consumption: None

  - Cooldown: None

  - Effect: Continuously heals minor to moderate wounds over time.

  Enhances the user’s natural regenerative ability, allowing survival through what would otherwise be fatal injuries.

  The more severe the injury, the more active the regeneration becomes, converting surrounding ambient mana and nutrients from the bloodstream to repair tissue.

  - Details: A rare ability possessed only by the mythical Ironhide Bears, massive beasts said to be unkillable in battle.

  These creatures developed this passive trait over centuries of evolution, as their iron-rich blood granted unnatural endurance and a near-immortal healing factor.

  Their bodies were like fortresses, and their blood acted like a living forge, melting down pain and rebuilding flesh like steel.

  Those who inherit this trait are fated to either become beasts—or conquer them.

  ---

  [Wolfslayer]

  - Effect: Deals 30% more damage to canine beasts.

  - Bonus Stats: +4 Agility, +3 Perception.

  - Bonus Trait: Induces Fear status effect in canine-type enemies within a 10-meter radius upon entering combat.

  - Details:

  You are a Wolfslayer, a title feared even among the howling peaks.

  You are no mere hunter—you are predator of predators.

  Wolves sense your presence like a plague on the wind.

  Their instincts scream—flee.

  ---

  After hunting much, I had managed to obtain the title [Wolfslayer].

  I have also leveled up to 20 and distributed all the Status points properly.

  'Now, I am ready.'

  It's time to go.

  I began moving forward.

  My footsteps pressed into the earth, firm and unwavering, each stride echoing my resolve.

  The dried blood of beasts still clung to my armor, my fingers clenched with a restless anticipation.

  And once again, I reached the place where Hati was.

  The golden arc of sunlight was still shining.

  Like a divine threshold, the sunlight formed an ethereal arch at the center of the clearing, casting radiant beams across the wild grass.

  The light shimmered in soft hues of gold and amber, like a sacred barrier separating man from monster.

  The sun in the sky was brightly soaring at mid.

  Its light rained down mercilessly, but the air held a strange stillness—no birdsong, no breeze, no monster in sight.

  It was as if the world itself paused for what was about to come.

  On the other side of arc was Hati, he was resting.

  The shadow wolf lay there, massive and unmoving, his black fur like night.

  His chest rose and fell slowly, steadily.

  His body curled with ease, yet the weight of his presence made the ground itself feel heavier.

  I took a step forward and reached closer to the arc.

  The moment my foot touched the sunlit arc, the warmth spread along my boot to my leg—a subtle reminder of the thin line I was crossing.

  My steps made sound.

  Soft crunches of grass under my feet reached his ears.

  And Hati raised his head lazily looking at me.

  His eyes opened—sharp, red, ancient.

  They shimmered with cold intellect and disinterest, as if I were just another insect disturbing his sleep.

  His ears perked, but his expression didn’t change.

  Only his gaze—piercing and heavy—acknowledged my presence.

  'Inventory!'

  I took out the bow and arrow.

  The bow was crude but strong, etched with shallow markings from countless battles.

  The arrow I notched was barbed and dipped in a dark resin—one of my best.

  I took the aim and shot it straight towards his head.

  Swish!

  The arrow moved through air.

  The wind parted for it.

  It flew with precision, the tip aimed directly between Hati’s eyes.

  It soon hit Hati's forehead.

  But Hati didn't even bother avoiding it.

  Shadows flickered and covered him.

  Like a veil rising from the earth, shadowy tendrils coiled around his face, an instinctive barrier of dark energy.

  Thud!

  The arrow just bounced off his forehead.

  It landed uselessly beside him, the tip bent, the shaft cracked.

  And the shadows then calmed down back to ground.

  They dispersed into wisps, like smoke being drawn back into the soil.

  Hati just looked lazily and put his head back to the ground, between his paw.

  He yawned—a slow, fang-filled gesture that conveyed only one thing:

  I am not threatened.

  'I knew it.'

  I had expected it, arrows won't do anything to him.

  Then I took out the meat pieces and threw them.

  Thick chunks of beast meat, freshly carved from the monsters I had slain, splattered on the ground in front of the arc.

  He stood up lazily with its smell and moved towards them.

  His large frame stretched like a waking storm, his silver fur rippling under the light.

  Every step he took made the earth feel like it might crack.

  He walked with the grace of a predator and the indifference of a king.

  And he began to eat it without any care.

  His massive jaws tore into the meat, bones crunching beneath the pressure of his bite. Blood dripped from his maw, staining the grass red.

  It could've been poisoned or even anything else but he didn’t care.

  There was no caution, no hesitation.

  Just complete confidence in his own invincibility.

  'Well, poisons and paralysis won't have much effect on him either way.'

  His body—blessed or cursed—was immune to most mortal means of death.

  Toxins meant for giants, venoms refined in alchemy, none of them would matter here.

  But still every small thing counts.

  If there was even a one percent chance of something working, I had to try it.

  That was how you survived fights with monsters.

  He continued to eat it.

  The sounds of flesh tearing and bones snapping echoed softly under the high sun.

  And then I took out animal fat and oil pouches.

  Heavy pouches, sloshing with thick grease and pungent scent. I'd scavenged and prepared them days ago for this very moment.

  Plop!

  I threw them, its smell going through.

  The air grew heavy with the scent—sharp, oily, and unmistakably flammable.

  But Hati didn't care and continued to eat.

  Not even a glance.

  He devoured the meat like a beast who ruled the food chain.

  Plop!

  Plop!

  More pouches burst open across the field—near the arc, around the edges, beneath the grass.

  I had already thrown oil in the surroundings.

  The grass grew slick.

  The earth soaked with a blend of fat and oil, turning the battlefield into a potential inferno.

  After few minutes of throwing, I began.

  I reached into my inventory with trembling fingers—not from fear, but from anticipation.

  This was it.

  Taking out a wooden stick with fire, I threw it away.

  Swoosh!

  The stick sailed through the air, its burning end twirling, flames dancing against the wind.

  In an instant the fire spread consuming everything in its path.

  WHOOSH!

  A wave of flame erupted like a beast unleashed.

  It raced across the oily ground, the dry grass fueling its fury.

  The heat flared red and orange, tongues of fire licking up into the air.

  The heat reached to my body and skin sting.

  Even from where I stood, I could feel the scorching pressure of the blaze.

  My skin prickled and began to sear.

  But due to increased heat tolerance, my body didn't feel anything.

  The fire licked at my clothes, curled around my legs like a living thing, but I stood tall amidst the growing inferno.

  The skin burned but it healed instantly due to Ironblood Regeneration.

  Flesh tore and mended.

  Pain flared and vanished. I was burning—and yet, I was not breaking.

  I looked ahead.

  Inside the whole arc the fire was roaring.

  It rose like a fiery storm wall, a living ring of light and death.

  The golden sunlight now danced atop flickering flames, making the battlefield look like a realm of gods.

  But—

  Shadows twitched and gathered around.

  They slithered like vipers across the ground, writhing through the fire, hungry and cold.

  Whoosh!

  The shadows moved away like a blast.

  An explosion of darkness surged outward.

  The flame bent back, choked by the power of the shadow.

  Like a monster devouring light, the darkness consumed the fire.

  And a lot of fire died down.

  The battlefield dimmed.

  Smoke rose.

  Cinders flicked through the air like dying stars.

  From within, red eyes glowed.

  Like twin furnaces of hate.

  And Hati stood there, not even a bit affected.

  Unscorched. Unburned. Unbothered.

  His black fur shimmered with soot, but no injury could be seen. The only thing different—was his eyes.

  "Grrr!!"

  A low growl shook the air.

  It wasn't rage—it was warning.

  The predator had now acknowledged me as something beyond prey.

  His eyes fixed on me, now angry.

  They narrowed, glowing with primal fury. No more laziness. No more indifference.

  "Let’s do this!"

  I said as I took out two daggers wielding in each hand.

  Their steel reflected the fire’s dying light.

  The edges were sharp, gleaming faintly with beast blood.

  Now, the only way is to fight him head-on.

  No more tricks. No more traps.

  Just me, my daggers, and the monster that ruled this place.