The northern sun of Zan cast long, sharp shadows from the newest stone pillars that had burst through the crust of the mineral field outside of Pillarforge. Ravi, his muscles coiling with practiced rhythm, swung his pickaxe against the dark, metallic vein. The pickaxe struck the stone with a satisfying CLUNK that echoed dully in the qi-thin air.

  This was the routine of Pillarforge: periodic maintenance against the strange geology of the lands of Northend. If left unchecked, the mineral field would become an impassable forest of stone spires, choking access to the certain resources. So, when the earth groaned and new pillars erupted, miners like Ravi were called to break them down, a constant battle against the land itself.

  Ravi paused, wiping grit and sweat from his brow with a thick, calloused hand. Each chunk of ore he broke free was a piece of their village's future. This sudden influx of iron would not be wasted. Some would become new picks and saws for the miners and woodworkers. The rest would be hammered into thick, interlocking plates to bolster the great metal wall of Pillarforge—another layer of defence against the titanic beasts that roamed the wilds of Northend.

  Setting his pickaxe down, he gathered the manageable pieces and heaved them into a waiting cart. The iron was heavy, its weight a promise of security.

  “Phew, this is a big haul,” Ravi grunted, looking at the cart now brimming with dark, raw metal.

  “I’ll say,” a familiar voice chimed in. Kael, a miner and friend to Ravi, who was also dumping his own load into the cart, the ore clattering loudly. “That’s it. She’s full. We’re stuck waiting for the next empty cart now.”

  A genuine smile spread across Ravi’s face. “That’s fine with me. My shoulders could use a rest.”

  They found a relatively flat spot near the base of a half-dismantled pillar. As other miners continued their work, the two men pulled out their lunch boxes.

  Kael had a simple but hearty sandwich. Ravi, however, unlatched a finely crafted metal box. Inside, arranged with evident care, was a portion of fluffy rice, perfectly grilled meat glazed with a sweet sauce, and a vibrant side of pickled vegetables.

  “Oh ho!” Kael pointed with his sandwich, his eyes twinkling. “That’s from Yuni, isn’t it? No one else packs a lunch like a five-star feast.”

  Ravi’s chest swelled with pride. “She woke up early to make it. Said a man breaking rocks all day needs proper fuel.”

  “She’s a gem, Ravi. An absolute gem. So? When are you going to stop being a coward and make her your wife? The whole village knows you’re perfect for each other.”

  Ravi’s smile softened, but a determined glint remained in his eyes. He looked past Kael, towards the immense, distant silhouette of Pillarforge’s wall, a man-made mountain range under the pale sky. “I’ve told you, Kael. Not until I can afford the ring she deserves. Yuni’s father is protective, and rightly so. I need to walk into his house with a ring that proves my commitment isn’t just words. It has to be something as strong and lasting as the wall itself. Something that shows I can provide, that I’m thinking of the future.”

  Kael nodded, his joking demeanor fading into one of solid respect. He understood the unspoken language of Pillarforge: metal was security, craftsmanship was promise, and a well-built thing lasted generations.

  “A worthy goal,” Kael said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “But don’t wait too long. Happiness is a resource rarer than any mineral pillar. You have to claim it when you find it.”

  Ravi looked down at the lovingly prepared meal, then back at the cart full of iron—a cart that brought him one step closer to his future. “I’m claiming it,” he said, his voice firm. “One swing of the pick at a time.”

  Just then, a low rumble, different from the sound of mining, vibrated through the ground. It wasn't the familiar groan of shifting earth. This was heavier, more rhythmic. A distant shout from a lookout post echoed across the field. The miners stopped their work, hands tightening on their tools.

  The low rumble solidified into a series of heavy, rhythmic thuds that vibrated up through the soles of Ravi’s boots. All mining ceased. The familiar sounds of pickaxes and chatter died, replaced by a tense silence broken only by the approaching footsteps. Every miner turned as one, their eyes fixed on the treeline where the giant trees of Northend stood like a forbidding wall.

  What emerged from the shadows was a bear, colossal even by the standards of the giant beasts they knew. But this was no ordinary creature. Its pelt was not normal fur; it shimmered with shifting patterns that pulsed with a faint energy, like heat haze off the boiling lakes. Most terrifying of all were the metallic growths that armored its body: jagged spines of raw iron erupted from its back, and its claws were not bone and keratin, but solid, cruel-looking metal that gleamed dully in the pale light.

  A collective, confused murmur rippled through the miners. This was something new, something wrong. The beasts of Northend were giants of flesh and blood, terrifying but natural. This thing was an amalgamation, a perversion of nature that shouldn't exist in a land with "very little qi."

  "By the forge..." Kael whispered, his knuckles white on his pickaxe handle. "What in the hells is that?"

  Instinct, honed by generations of survival, took over. Confusion was a luxury they couldn't afford. They defaulted to the only protocol they had: treat it as a hostile giant. Ravi and Kael stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their lunch forgotten, their mining tools now feeling pathetically inadequate as weapons.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "Crossbow line! Now!" shouted the foreman, his voice cutting through the panic.

  A squad of miners, their movements drilled and efficient, dropped their tools and scrambled to a makeshift barricade of ore carts. They heaved their massive, mounted crossbows—weapons so heavy they required two men to reload. These were not hunting bows; they were miniature ballistae, designed to fire steel-tipped bolts as thick as a man's wrist. With a synchronized thwump-thwump-thwump, the bolts tore through the air. They flew with enough force to punch through solid oak, their purpose not to kill instantly, but to deliver deep, bleeding wounds that would eventually bring a raging beast down.

  The miners braced for the familiar, terrifying sequence: the roar of pain, the blind charge, the chaotic scramble for safety as the creature thrashed itself to death.

  But the sequence never came.

  Instead of a satisfying thud of penetration, the sound was a series of sharp, discordant PINGS and SPANGS. The bolts didn't even scratch the bear's hide; they simply shattered against the iron spines or ricocheted off the shimmering pelt as if they were nothing more than dry twigs.

  The silence that followed was deafening, thick with a terror far colder than any they had known. One of their main weapons against the beast of Northend, the pride of Pillarforge's ingenuity, was useless. The dread that washed over them was not the hot fear of a beast charge, but the icy chill of absolute vulnerability.

  Yet, the most unnerving part was the bear's reaction. Or lack thereof.

  It didn't roar. It didn't even flinch. It paused its lumbering walk, as if someone had tapped it lightly on the shoulder. The massive head, with eyes that glowed with the same faint energy as its pelt, turned lazily towards the miners. There was no aggression in its gaze, no recognition of a threat. It was a look of pure, simple curiosity, as if examining a line of particularly noisy insects. It sniffed the air once, let out a low, rumbling huff that sounded almost like a sigh of boredom, and then, with a dismissive turn, ambled back towards the giant trees.

  It had simply lost interest.

  For a long moment, nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The only sound was the wind whistling through the newly mined pillars. The miners stood frozen, their minds struggling to process what had just happened. The creature was impervious to their weapons, yet it displayed none of the aggression that defined the dangers of Northend.

  Ravi finally lowered his pickaxe, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked from the retreating form of the bear to the scattered, broken crossbow bolts on the ground. He met Kael's wide-eyed stare, seeing his own confusion and dread reflected back at him.

  "That... that wasn't a beast," Ravi said, his voice hoarse. "That was something else entirely. If more of those come... the wall won't mean a thing."

  The cart of iron ore, what they would use to build their defenses, now felt like a pathetic pile of scrap. Their world had just become much larger, and infinitely more dangerous.

  ?????

  Gang, the Steel Hide Bear—a name bestowed upon him by the straightforward Kai—was on a mission.

  The memory of his last great success was a warm, golden glow in his mind. He had discovered a hive, a gargantuan structure of wax and wood nestled high in the ancient trees, humming with bees the size of songbirds. For most creatures, even other Beastkin, such a prize was dangerous. The stings of Northend's giant bees carried venom that could drop a mammoth, but to Gang, their furious swarming was nothing more than a persistent, tickling buzz. His namesake hide, tougher than forged plate armor, rendered him impervious. He had feasted that day, the rich, floral ambrosia on his tongue.

  But the true joy hadn't been the solitary feast. It was the act of sharing.

  After a strategic dip in a bubbling lake to dissuade his apian pursuers, he had carried the massive, sticky prize back to Azure Sky Haven. The delight that erupted from his fellow beastkin and Kai’s disciples—young cultivators who rarely indulged in such simple, sweet pleasures—had filled the air with a warmth even he could feel. The head-pats and praises from Kai himself had been the sweetest nectar of all.

  Now, driven by a simple, powerful desire to recreate that happiness, Gang was on the hunt again. His massive paws carried him with a ground-shaking gentleness through the dense undergrowth of the giant forest, his nose twitching as he sifted through a thousand scents: damp earth, pungent mushrooms, the musk of prey. He was searching for that one, golden thread of aroma—the promise of more honey.

  So single-minded was his quest that he failed to notice the subtle change in his surroundings. The ancient, towering trees began to thin, replaced by a stark landscape of jagged stone pillars and the distant, acrid tang of smelted metal carried on the wind. He had wandered far closer to the mortal village—Pillarforge—than Kai had ever permitted. Kai’s warning had been clear and firm: the humans there were not like the ones at the Haven; they were fearful, and they were not to be disturbed.

  The realization dawned on him slowly as he lumbered out of the treeline and into the mineral field. The sight that greeted him was confusing. Tiny figures—humans—were scrambling like agitated ants, their high-pitched shouts cutting through the air. It was then that the bear understood his mistake. This was their place of work, the source of the metallic smell.

  As this thought crystallized, he felt a series of light, percussive taps against his flank, like pebbles being thrown. He turned his great head, his dark eyes settling on a group of miners frozen in a line, their faces masks of sheer terror. They held large crossbows, their bolts now lying shattered and useless on the ground around his feet.

  Ah. They had tried to attack him. The bear realized.

  A low rumble stirred in Gang’s chest, not quite a growl, but a vibration of contemplation. His instinct was to roar, to stand on his hind legs and remind these tiny creatures of the power they had foolishly challenged. But then Kai’s voice echoed in his memory, gentler but far more powerful than any instinct: "Do not harm them, Gang. Mortal lives are fragile. Strength should be used to protect and not harm."

  To retaliate, even with a dismissive swat, would not be a fight. It would be instant death. It would make Kai sad. And the thought of dimming the light in Kai’s eyes was more unbearable than any bee sting could ever be.

  The choice was simple.

  The humans' "attack" was so pitiful it didn't even warrant acknowledgment as a threat. With a quiet, dismissive huff that steamed in the cool air, Gang turned his back on the terrified miners. His mission was not about these frightened creatures or their broken bolts. His mission was about joy, about golden honey and the happy sounds of his family. Without a second glance, the Steel Hide Bear continued his peaceful, determined search, leaving behind a scene of utter confusion and a lesson in terrifying, inexplicable mercy.

  Patreon! You can read chapters early by becoming a patron.