Tutorial II (7)–Bison.....

  ----

  After what felt like an eternity drenched in blood and screams, the tide shifted.

  Something in the battlefield changed—subtly, almost imperceptibly at first.

  The rhythm of the monsters dulled.

  Their snarls grew quieter.

  Their attacks... slowed.

  They began to part—not retreating, not fleeing—but shifting, like trained soldiers making way for a higher force.

  Their movements were mechanical, deliberate, even reverent.

  A path opened between the churning chaos of the battlefield and the edge of the misty lake.

  I knew what that meant.

  My heart pounded in response.

  ‘So he has come!’

  My grip around the sword tightened, my knuckles white.

  I narrowed my eyes, staring into the fog that drifted over the lake’s surface.

  THUD!

  The ground beneath my boots trembled violently.

  THUD!

  The tremor rippled outward.

  Pebbles jittered across the mud, and chunks of waterlogged earth cracked and split.

  THUD!

  The third impact sent a shockwave through the trees.

  Leaves shook loose, and the lake’s surface, once eerily calm, exploded into turbulent ripples.

  Waves slammed into the banks with a wet, thunderous roar.

  Trees creaked and bent beneath the pressure.

  “What the hell is that sound?!” someone yelled over the cacophony.

  “It’s shaking!” another screamed, voice cracking in panic.

  Players turned, a few risking a glance toward the lake.

  Most were still too locked in battle to notice.

  The ones who did... they should have run.

  But instead—they froze.

  Wide-eyed. Slack-jawed.

  Then—

  RRRAAAAHH!!

  A roar ripped through the air like a bomb exploding.

  It was guttural, massive, and primal—an ancient voice echoing from the depths of the world.

  The air itself seemed to warp under its weight.

  CRASH!!

  The lake erupted.

  Water exploded skyward in a geyser of fury as a colossal form surged out of the depths.

  A monster—a Lake Bison of unimaginable size—emerged from the frothing chaos.

  Its sheer bulk rivaled that of Hati, easily.

  'Of course, Hati is stronger!'

  Its body gleamed under the sunlight, slick with water that refracted like liquid crystal.

  An aura of aquatic energy shimmered around it, glowing a pale cerulean blue, making the beast appear almost divine.

  Droplets of water didn’t fall—they orbited, spinning like tiny moons around its massive form.

  Its horns—long, curved forward like twin spears—were stained red with ancient blood.

  The tips gleamed sharp, like they had seen hundreds of battles.

  Its hide was an unholy fusion of nature and magic—wet stone hardened into armor, with ridges like bark fused into its flanks, crackling faintly with inner pressure.

  ‘No time to waste. Let’s go.’

  I didn’t hesitate.

  Didn’t speak.

  Didn’t wait.

  I ran.

  Sprinting forward, through the chaos, the screaming, the monsters still snapping around me.

  I didn't see any of it.

  All I saw—was him.

  The monster king.

  The true threat of the quest.

  ---

  I charged.

  He also charged.

  Two titanic forces—one small but burning, one massive and roaring—thundered toward each other.

  The water and mud exploded beneath his feet.

  Earth cracked.

  Air screamed.

  The battlefield blurred around us, as if reality itself couldn't keep up.

  He was colossal, towering.

  And I was a blade—just a man.

  The distance between us vanished in heartbeats.

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  ‘Now.’

  At the last second—I dropped low and rolled left.

  SLASH!

  My blade carved out, aiming for the tendon behind his foreleg.

  I could feel it—the resistance of flesh, the slice of skin—but then, the clang of muscle like ironwood stopped my sword from going all the way.

  It dug deep. But not deep enough.

  His bellow was immediate.

  “MOOOO!!”

  The roar of a war god.

  He slammed his hoof down with crushing force.

  CLANG!!

  I raised my sword just in time—metal met bone, and the impact howled.

  The shock raced through my arms like lightning.

  My knees buckled, and I was hurled backward, heels tearing trenches in the mud.

  CRASH!

  I collided into a knot of Otter monsters, knocking them away like pins.

  The collision sent them squawking, flailing in the air.

  I hit the ground hard, bouncing once before I skidded to a stop.

  Thud. Thud.

  He came again—galloping now, each hoof-fall like a thunderclap.

  I brought my sword up, barely managing to intercept his charge.

  Horn met steel.

  The impact was cataclysmic.

  “Ugh!”

  I gritted my teeth as my feet left the ground.

  The horn didn’t just push—it tossed me.

  I was flung like a broken toy across the field.

  SLAM!!

  I crashed through a tree trunk, splitting it in half.

  Splinters rained around me like daggers.

  My body ricocheted off a boulder next—my ribs crunched, the air burst out of my lungs.

  Blood sprayed from my lips in a crimson arc.

  But I stood.

  Through sheer will, through instinct.

  Ironblood Regeneration surged inside me, like fire rushing through my veins.

  Bones popped and reset.

  Torn muscle stitched.

  My cracked ribs realigned.

  I spat red onto the ground—and ran again.

  "RRAAH!!"

  The Lake Bison bellowed in rage.

  The Water Shroud around him thickened, becoming a full veil of dancing water and pressure.

  The droplets spun faster, merging into streams that wrapped around his limbs and torso.

  His leg injury from before—healed instantly.

  ‘Damn it!’

  I cursed, but my legs didn’t slow.

  I ducked under a sweep of water, dodged the backhand of a drenched horn, and closed the distance again.

  SLASH!

  A clean cut across his front leg.

  SLASH!

  Another to his underside, aiming for where the hide was softer.

  He snorted, low and furious, and kicked.

  I flipped backward, narrowly escaping the crushing hoof.

  The earth cracked beneath where I’d stood—a crater formed in the mud.

  I dashed sideways, weaving through the flying debris and water mist.

  THRUST!

  My sword shot up, aimed straight for his eye.

  He turned at the last second—WHAM!—his horn slammed sideways into me.

  The impact sent shockwaves across the field.

  “Guh—!”

  I hit the mud and rolled, every bone rattling.

  But I didn’t stop.

  I twisted mid-slide, flipped onto my feet, and launched forward again.

  Blood ran down my brow, blinding one eye.

  But Regeneration kicked in again—bones mended, cuts sealed.

  So did his.

  The water sprout skill flared once more, and his leg wounds sealed with hissing steam.

  ‘So, it’s a battle of regeneration.’

  A grin broke on my bloodied face—unbidden, a little mad.

  I sprinted again, blade ready.

  SLASH. SLASH. SLASH.

  I carved into his flank three times in rapid succession.

  Deep wounds. Muscle exposed.

  He roared, the ground shaking, and the Water Shroud pulsed—ribbons of liquid light wrapping around his flesh and closing the worst cuts instantly.

  Then he reared back—and charged again.

  I dove under him, rolling through the cascade of water beneath his belly.

  His hooves slammed down, missing me by inches.

  The shockwave flung debris everywhere.

  On the other side, I leapt and slashed at his rear leg.

  WHAM!

  A back-kick caught me square in the chest.

  I was airborne again.

  SPLASH!

  I skipped across the lake’s surface like a stone, spinning, tumbling.

  My back cracked against the shallow shore, and I slid to a stop half-submerged.

  I rose again—spitting lake water, wiping blood from my mouth.

  And I ran.

  Again.

  My Ironblood Regeneration was passive, constant, unrelenting.

  Every moment restored me.

  But his regeneration came from the water—an active skill.

  Powerful, but with limits.

  He had strength. He had size.

  But I had this: the refusal to stop.

  My heart thundered louder than his hooves.

  And the hunt continued.

  He charged ahead like a living avalanche, every hooffall shaking the earth.

  I gritted my teeth, gripping my sword so tight my knuckles went white.

  ‘His eyes… I’ll blind him and open a chance!’

  I braced myself, angling my body to offer a fake opening with my shoulder, baiting him closer—

  SPLASH!

  Suddenly, a wave surged from under him.

  Bubbles erupted over my face, blurring my vision and muffling all sound.

  'These turtles!'

  My eyes stung, the distorted shape of the

  Bison twisting in the watery haze—

  THUD!!

  His massive horned head struck me full force before I could react.

  CRACK!

  My body bent from the impact and was sent hurtling like a broken arrow through the chaos of the battlefield.

  I slammed into a cluster of Muckducks, tumbling through the wet dirt.

  “QUAAACK!”

  “QUACK!”

  “Get out of the way!” I bellowed, swinging my sword wide in a messy arc, scattering the squawking creatures in all directions.

  “QUAAACK!” They fled in terror, feathers flying, splashing into the mud as they scrambled to escape.

  Panting, I staggered to my feet, my chest heaving.

  I turned toward the Lake Bison.

  His body shimmered once again—wounds mending, flesh knitting together with slow but visible effect.

  My own body twitched in response as Ironblood Regeneration went to work—broken bones cracked back into place, the deep bruises under my skin dissolved with a painful warmth.

  But then—

  [Your Fatigue has reached 60!]

  The system notification blinked before my eyes like a warning bell.

  I clenched my jaw.

  'Shit. It’s catching up. My body’s slowing down.'

  My sword felt heavier now.

  Breathing was sharper.

  Movements less crisp.

  But I couldn't stop.

  “Come on!” I growled, shaking the water from my face as I began to move again.

  He moved too.

  This time, we both sprinted headlong—me over churned-up mud and broken reeds, him through splashing pools that hissed under his weight.

  Just before we collided—

  I jumped.

  High.

  The wind rushed past my ears.

  My blade caught the moonlight for a heartbeat before I twisted midair, angling down.

  SLASH!!

  The strike landed.

  A brutal diagonal cut straight across his neck—deep, clean, and wide.

  Blood sprayed, warm and thick, painting the sky and my chest in red.

  The wound didn’t seal immediately.

  “Got you,” I breathed.

  But then—

  He roared.

  RRRAAAAAHH!!

  And slammed into me, body-first.

  BOOM!!

  It was like getting hit by a runaway boulder.

  I didn’t just fall—I was buried, slammed into the soaked ground with enough force to shatter a lesser body.

  CRUNCH!

  Ribs, again.

  My ears rang.

  The world swam in red and brown. I tasted blood and dirt.

  But I refused to stay down.

  “Ghh—haah…” I gasped, pushing myself upright through the sludge, arms trembling.

  Mud clung to my face.

  Blood dripped from my scalp.

  My rib was cracked.

  But I stood.

  And I smiled.

  “You’re finally out of mana now, aren’t you…”

  No glimmer of magic wrapped his wounds.

  The Water Sprout had fizzled.

  His aura had dulled.

  The watery veil no longer surged.

  His breathing was heavier now—chest rising in labored gulps.

  My body glowed faintly.

  Bones snapped back into place.

  Cuts closed.

  Pain pulsed through me—but healing followed.

  'It’s a battle of regeneration… and you just lost your edge.'

  If he'd had more mana, I wouldn't have had a chance.

  Strength. Endurance. Regen. Size. And even army of lake monsters.

  If he had mana to keep that regen going, he’d be unstoppable.

  But fortunately, he has lowest mana and intelligence, out of all four bosses.

  ‘Now… it’s my turn.’

  I kicked off the mud and dashed forward—faster this time, despite the weight dragging on my limbs.

  This time I didn’t charge straight.

  I zig-zagged, keeping low, avoiding his horns and massive swings.

  SLASH!

  A vicious cut raked across his face—just below the eye.

  He bellowed.

  SLASH!

  I twisted around his blind side and struck his throat.

  Blood gushed, darker and slower this time.

  SLASH! SLASH! SLASH!

  Three more rapid slashes across his already-damaged flank.

  Skin parted. Muscle tore.

  Blood spilled out in torrents.

  His groans turned to snorts of desperation.

  His body shivered, legs nearly buckling—but he still wouldn’t fall.

  “STAY DOWN!!” I roared, voice hoarse.

  But he refused.

  The Monster King of the Lake still stood, blood dripping from every wound, face twisted in animal fury and pain.

  He refused to bow.

  And so did I.

  My heart thundered. My lungs burned. My arms screamed with every swing.

  But my sword—

  My sword never stopped.

  [Your Fatigue has reached 70!]

  I stood across from it—mud-caked, ribs cracked and barely stitched together by regeneration, skin marked by bruises and lacerations—but still upright. Still breathing.

  The rain had stopped, but water still dripped from my soaked clothes.

  My hands trembled around my sword's hilt, blood trickling from between my fingers, only to seal and open again as fatigue ate at my regeneration.

  The Lake Bison loomed ahead, steam rising off its blood-slicked body.

  Its eyes locked onto mine with raw, primal hatred.

  It lowered its massive horns, the air thick with the scent of iron and mud.

  A low, guttural growl vibrated through its chest like distant thunder.

  Its hooves dug deep into the wet earth—

  THUMP.

  Thud… Thud… THUD!

  Each step sent tremors through the ground, like war drums announcing the final charge.

  It came.

  A blur of muscle and rage—barreling forward like a mountain given life. The very sky seemed to hold its breath.

  And I ran—toward it.

  Every step forward was agony.

  My lungs burned.

  My vision blurred.

  But I moved.

  Faster.

  Faster!

  Then—I jumped.

  I kicked off the ground with the last of my strength, the air screaming past my ears.

  I soared.

  “RRAAAGHH!!”

  My boot struck the Bison’s head—bone meeting bone—and I pushed off again, vaulting higher.

  I landed on its broad, heaving back with a WHAM, knees slamming into its scarred hide.

  The muscles beneath me rolled and writhed like a storm beneath skin.

  The beast bellowed—a thunderous, gurgling roar that shook the trees and made even the birds scatter.

  It tried to buck me off. But I didn't budge.

  I raised my sword—shaking, blood-slicked arms trembling under the weight.

  And drove it down.

  SHHK!

  The blade pierced through layers of sinew and hide.

  The neck resisted—it was thick, armored with nature's design—but the tip found a gap, slipping in between bones.

  SPURT!!

  Blood gushed out violently, a hot, pulsing fountain that drenched me in red.

  My armor clung to me, soaked and heavy.

  The copper stench choked my nostrils.

  The Bison screamed.

  It screamed.

  A tortured, guttural sound filled with rage and agony.

  It thrashed violently—twisting, stomping, charging aimlessly in pain.

  CRASH!!

  It slammed into a tree, splintering it like glass.

  Bark and branches exploded around us.

  WHAM!

  It rolled, trying to crush me beneath its weight.

  I held on—clinging to the sword still buried in its neck.

  It was my anchor.

  Blood poured endlessly from the wound, splashing over its shoulder, coating my hands, my chest, my face.

  [Your Fatigue has reached 75!]

  My muscles screamed.

  Every fiber of my being begged to let go—to fall off and end it.

  But I refused.

  “FALL ALREADY!!” I roared, veins bulging in my neck, voice raw.

  I drove the blade deeper, pushing with all the strength I had left, grinding the steel against bone and cartilage.

  The Bison staggered. Its steps turned to stumbles.

  Its eyes rolled white.

  Its body convulsed, a final, frenzied attempt to throw me. It kicked up water, mud, and blood into the air like a storm of gore.

  From across the battlefield, players turned.

  Their mouths hung open.

  “What the hell…?”

  “He’s insane—he’s actually doing it—”

  “He stabbed it in the neck! While riding it?!”

  Even the monsters seemed momentarily stunned by the sight.

  “COME ON…!” I howled, every muscle burning, blade vibrating in my hands as I felt the rhythm of its slowing pulse through the steel.

  The Bison’s legs buckled.

  It groaned—low and broken—like a dying titan.

  CRACK—THUD!

  It crashed to its knees, sending ripples through the swampy ground.

  Water splashed.

  Blood frothed at its mouth and poured from the wound.

  Its chest rose once.

  Then again.

  And stopped.

  The monster gave a final twitch.

  Then nothing.

  [You’ve slain the boss of South: lake bison!]

  [You’ve gained a lot of TP!]

  [You’ve gained a lot EXP!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  Silence fell.

  Only the ragged breathing of players, the faint hum of combat dying out, and the drip… drip… drip… of blood falling from the beast’s massive form remained.

  I stayed there, motionless atop the corpse, my sword still jammed into the thick flesh of its neck, blood oozing from the massive tear.

  Then—slowly—I yanked the sword free.

  SSSSKRRRIP.

  It came loose with a wet, sickening sound, flesh tearing and bone cracking.

  I slid down from its side, feet splashing into the blood-soaked ground.

  My knees gave out—but I stood.

  Bent, shaking, but still upright.

  [Your Fatigue has reached 80%!]

  [All your Status has been reduced by 20%.]

  It didn’t matter.

  I had won.