Tutorial (11)–the bear vs wolves....
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Ironhide Bear.
In the Howling Grove, if the Shadow Wolves are the most dangerous predators in packs…
Then the Ironhide Bear is the undisputed king of strength—alone.
While wolves rule with numbers, strategy, and relentless speed, the Ironhide Bear stands like a living fortress of muscle and rage.
Towering and broad-shouldered, its body is covered in plates of dense, iron-colored fur that shimmer faintly like forged steel in the moonlight.
They possess three signature skills that make them feared:
- Iron Claws – When activated, their front claws glow a molten red.
They expand—becoming longer, sharper, and harder than iron itself.
With a single swing, they can cleave through boulders or snap a wolf’s spine like dry twigs.
- Earth Slam – A devastating ground-pound where the bear slams its limbs into the earth with all its weight.
The impact causes tremors in the surrounding area, enough to knock prey off their feet or collapse nearby trees.
The shockwave is disorienting, and deadly when followed up by a charge.
- Iron Defense – Their hide hardens further, locking into a state that is almost impervious to conventional weapons.
Blades bounce off. Arrows splinter.
Even magical attacks are dulled when this is active.
Unlike the Shadow Wolves, Ironhide Bears are solitary by nature.
They don’t roam in packs, and rarely venture to the edges of the forest.
Instead, they make their dens deep within the heart of the Howling Forest, near rocky outcrops, streams, or cave systems—places where fish are abundant and disturbance is minimal.
Despite their size and power, they usually prey on smaller animals—deer, boars, or riverside fish.
It's not about weakness; it’s about efficiency.
They have no need to overhunt.
But make no mistake: they are terrifying when provoked.
One Ironhide Bear is said to be capable of defeating four to five Shadow Wolves simultaneously.
Their thick, armored hide is nearly impossible to pierce—wolves’ fangs and claws do little more than scratch the surface.
Meanwhile, a single claw swipe from the bear is often enough to shatter a wolf's skull.
They're not fast—but they don’t need to be.
They are menace made flesh, moving with purpose, overwhelming strength, and brutal resilience.
The bears and wolves both respect the laws of territory.
They do not trespass into each other’s domain unless driven by desperation or madness.
But if they ever do?
It ends with only one survivor.
That’s what the Player Guidebook says.
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The sun was technically out—somewhere up there.
But here, in the thick guts of the forest, it barely mattered.
Towering trees crowded overhead, their broad, moss-draped branches interwoven like the ceiling of an ancient cathedral.
The leaves were so densely packed that only tiny, flickering strands of light managed to slip through—just enough to keep the darkness from swallowing everything whole.
The air was cool, damp, and smelled of wet bark, crushed foliage, and the ever-present breath of the wild.
Each inhale was like sipping earth.
Somewhere not far off, a stream murmured softly, its gentle song of water against rock trickling through the underbrush like a lullaby.
And there, beside that stream… was a monster.
A massive, hulking creature crouched low to the water's edge like a grizzled fisherman waiting on a bite.
Its hide was a rough, jagged landscape of thick orange and reddish-brown scales, more like volcanic rock than fur.
Its limbs were thick like old tree trunks, and claws—long, curved, and shining—protruded from paws big enough to snap logs in half.
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Its snout hovered above the water, motionless.
Small, twitching ears flanked a scarred head, and its sharp, sunken eyes were locked on the rippling surface with an intensity that could set fish on fire.
An Ironhide Bear.
Notoriously territorial.
Stupidly strong.
And, when hungry, extremely impatient.
'Is he… fishing?'
I blinked from my perch up high on the tree, squatting on a thick branch layered in moss.
Sure enough, one of his massive claws was dipped into the stream, waiting.
Perfectly still. Not even a twitch.
Ironhide Bears were famous for their patience when it came to food, and infamous for their wrath when that patience was wasted.
I sat quietly, gaze scanning the surroundings from the shadows.
No movement.
No ears.
No squeaks.
'Where the hell are those stupid rabbits?'
I muttered internally, squinting.
I shifted slightly on the branch, trying not to rustle the leaves.
Still no sign of them.
No bouncing shapes.
No white puffs darting through the grass.
'Did they bolted away?'
It was entirely possible.
If they had run off, I’d be stuck facing the giant grump downstairs on my own.
My eyes flicked back toward the Ironhide.
Still focused. Still unmoving.
Still radiating an aura of touch my fish and die.
Then—poke poke.
A soft nudge on my ribs.
"Squee! Squee!"
I turned my head.
One of the rabbits had crept up beside me, perched on the branch like some forest scout.
It frantically pointed a stubby paw through the trees, squeaking like a hyperactive kettle.
I followed its paw with my eyes—there!
Two rabbits sprinting through the underbrush, zig-zagging like their tails were on fire.
Behind them, weaving through trees with snarls and gnashing teeth, were five shadow wolves, lean and hungry.
The wolves’ eyes gleamed with feral hunger.
Their paws barely made a sound as they chased, but their growls cut through the silence like jagged rocks.
'Very good. Keep it up, you fluffy distractions.'
I smirked to myself.
The two rabbits bolted through the forest like experienced stunt doubles, leaping roots and ducking under vines with just enough missteps to keep the wolves believing they were close.
And still—the bear remained unaware.
Focused entirely on his breakfast hunt.
The sun caught a shimmer beneath the surface.
And then—SWIPE.
In one graceful motion, the Ironhide Bear’s claw flashed through the stream and emerged victorious, holding a wriggling silver fish in his grip like a proud fisherman on a magazine cover.
A moment of glory.
But fate, cruel as ever, chose that precise moment to cause chaos.
"SQUEEEEEE!"
The rabbits burst through the bushes like furry cannonballs—straight into the bear’s fishing territory.
At the last second, they split directions, veering sharply and vanishing between trees.
The wolves, of course, didn’t notice the giant bear until it was far too late.
"GrrrrRRRRROOOOOOH!"
The bear jolted.
The fish wriggled.
Plop!
It slipped from his claw.
Back into the stream.
Gone.
Forever.
For a second, the Ironhide Bear just stood there, frozen.
His dripping paw still hovering in the air.
His face—blank.
The fish-shaped void in his soul was visible.
He looked down at the stream.
Then slowly turned his head.
And saw five shadow wolves, panting, drooling, and standing right inside his sacred fishing spot.
There was silence.
Thick. Heavy.
Then came the transformation.
From grief.
To rage.
Pure, unfiltered, scale-rippling RAGE.
With a monstrous roar that vibrated through the trees, he slammed his front paw into the ground.
THOOM!
Leaves shook loose from above.
The rabbits were already long gone—mission successful.
The wolves… not so lucky.
-----
The Ironhide Bear turned slowly, shoulders rising, breath steaming.
His thick hide flexed, muscles coiled beneath the magma-toned armor that earned him his name.
"HrrrRUUUHHH..."
A low, reverberating growl trembled through the ground. The very trees seemed to hush.
Then—war broke loose.
The lead wolf activated [Shadow Dash], vanishing in a blur of smoke, reappearing mid-air above the bear’s head, fangs descending in a perfect arc.
The bear’s [Iron Claw] swung upward with terrifying speed.
CRACK!
Claw met bone. The wolf crumpled mid-leap, hurled back like a broken doll.
The next two wolves circled with precision—one veiled in misty trails of darkness.
It darted in, using [Shadow Fang], its teeth shrouded in black flame.
"RAUUUUH!"
The bear roared and activated [Iron Defense].
His hide shimmered, thickening with earthen layers. The bite glanced off with a metallic clang.
But the second wolf found its mark—claws slicing behind his front leg, hitting flesh.
Blood spattered.
The bear twisted with a ground-shaking [Earth Slam], rearing up and crashing both forelegs into the soil.
BOOM!
A shockwave ripped outward, flinging both wolves off their feet, roots and rocks torn from the earth.
The third wolf came from behind, fangs glowing—[Shadow Fang], a precise strike to the lower spine.
"Hrrraaagh!!"
The bear roared in pain, blood misting from his mouth.
He turned violently, slashing a paw in retaliation.
The wolf ducked, but not fast enough.
"Yelp!"
Its shoulder split open, spraying red across the leaves.
Another wolf blinked into his flank using [Shadow Dash], claws like daggers.
The bear’s eye twitched.
He shifted into a low stance—[Iron Claw] igniting his strike.
SLAM!
The wolf was cleaved sideways into a tree, its ribs shattered on impact.
But the damage was mounting.
Deep gouges bled down the bear’s side.
One leg shook.
His breath came ragged.
He tried to raise a paw again—
But another wolf leapt from a tree, using [Dash] to propel itself forward with full momentum, going for his eye.
Too close.
"RRRRRAAAUGH!"
He took the hit.
Claws raked his face—then his own jaws snapped forward.
CRUNCH.
The wolf screamed once. Then didn’t.
He stood, swaying, soaked in blood.
Only one wolf remained.
It hesitated—ears back, fur bristled, hackles raised.
It began circling, waiting for an opening.
The bear dropped his stance low.
Energy pooled in his limbs again—[Earth Slam], this time with desperation.
BOOM!
Dust exploded. Trees shook.
The final wolf was blown off its feet, tumbling across roots and rocks.
It didn’t get up.
Silence returned, broken only by the ragged breaths of the victor.
"Hff... hff... hrrrrhh..."
The Ironhide Bear stood—barely.
Blood ran down his limbs, pooled at his feet. One eye was shut, chest rising in labor.
His hide, once impenetrable, was torn and burned in patches.
But the wolves lay broken.
He had won.
It was then—
Clap! Clap!
The sharp sound of my palms echoed through the clearing, slicing through the silence left by the fallen wolves.
The Ironhide Bear’s bloodied head turned slowly, one eye half-swollen, the other locking onto me.
I stood atop a moss-covered root, arms folded, a calm smile on my face, rhythmically clapping.
“Very good,” I said, my voice light, almost cheerful. “I knew you would win.”
It wasn’t mockery.
I meant it.
He’d torn through five apex predators alone. That deserved respect.
“Grrrrh…!”
The bear roared, though the sound was weaker now, more gravel than thunder.
His body swayed as he tried to stay upright—his right leg trembling, flank soaked with blood, fur matted and torn in at least a dozen places.
One of his claws dragged limply along the dirt.
“Now, it’s my turn, right?”
I reached into my inventory with a flick and pulled out a short sword.
A clean, curved blade—not fancy, but sharp and familiar.
My grip tightened. My feet shifted.
And then—I dashed forward.
The wind rushed past my ears.
The world slowed.
The bear noticed me, eyes narrowing, and with a guttural growl, he raised his paw.
Whoosh—!
It cut through the air, but too slow. I dipped low beneath it, sliding on the leaf-littered ground.
My blade came up—shrrkk!—raking across his already wounded leg.
“RRAAGHH!”
His roar thundered out again, but it lacked its earlier fury.
He staggered, his foot giving way for just a moment.
I twisted around and drove my blade into his side—right where a wolf had already broken his defense.
CLANG—flesh—bone.
He tried to activate Iron Defense, his hide glowing faintly as the ability kicked in.
But it flickered like a broken lantern.
The damage was too deep. His body couldn't hold the weight of the skill anymore.
He swung again.
Faster. Desperate.
But I stepped just out of range, his claws slamming into the trunk of a tree behind me with a splintering crack.
I darted in again, slashing under his foreleg.
Then another strike—precise, controlled—across a gap in his armored shoulder.
Blood sprayed across the ferns. His breath came in ragged growls.
“Hrrrrh... HHHHHRRRRRGHH!!”
He lifted his head and charged one last time, aiming to crush me with his weight.
I stepped to the side, just enough—his body crashed past me, his own momentum driving him forward—
—and then his legs gave out.
BOOM.
He collapsed like a falling mountain, shaking the forest floor.
His breaths came in short, broken wheezes.
His paw twitched.
The glow of life in his eyes faded, dimming like an ember.
I didn’t hesitate.
I walked calmly to his side.
My boots squelched in the blood-soaked soil.
I stepped around his massive neck, knelt low, and with both hands, drove my short sword into his throat—right between the weakened scales.
Shlunk.
His body tensed.
Twitched.
And then—stillness.
His eyes finally closed.
A faint ding chimed in my ear.
[You’ve slain an Ironhide Bear!]
[You’ve gained some TP!]
[You’ve gained some EXP!]
I exhaled slowly.
Not from exhaustion—but satisfaction.
My hand reached up and wiped a thin spray of blood from my cheek.
I stood up.
Rolled my shoulder.
“Whew.”
The forest was quiet again.
No applause this time.
Just wind, and the gentle babble of the stream where it all began.
