Because she had left a bit later, by the time Janet climbed the cliff, Chuck had already crossed the rocky beach. Seeing the true face of the island for the first time, the red-headed Western woman was struck by its raw beauty. Since she was only spectating, she took her time, admiring the distant volcano and rolling hills as she trekked west.
When she reached the heart of the redwood forest and looked toward the dense jungle ahead, she saw Chuck jumping down from a tree. He had just finished setting his trap. He donned his scale armor, crouched low, and disappeared into the thick foliage.
Janet's expression sharpened. From what she could see, Chuck wasn't playing games. Is there really a bear in there?
Honestly, Janet hadn't fully believed him at first; she had used the "hunt" as a pretext to judge his character. But seeing him so solemn, creeping into the shadows with such lethal intent, she began to wonder. Even if there was a bear, why fight it? In her North American home, idiots died in the jaws of bears every year. No matter how strong he was, he was just flesh and bone. Going after a wild grizzly without a gun...
Her brow furrowed. It's suicide.
Even if he killed it, would it really make life "better" for the women, as he claimed? A mindless brute wasn't much better than a silver-tongued liar. Janet stayed at the edge of the redwoods, as agreed, and waited.
A long, heavy silence followed.
Then, a primal roar shattered the peace of the jungle!
Janet jolted, looking up as flocks of birds erupted from the canopy. A second, even louder roar followed. She instinctively backed away, hiding behind a massive redwood tree. The roars continued, getting closer and closer... her heart hammered against her ribs so hard it was deafening.
Suddenly, with a violent crashing of branches, a figure burst from the jungle.
It was Chuck!
His bronze scales shimmered in the dappled light. He was sprinting at a terrifying speed, lunging through the brush. Behind him, the sound of the bear—a guttural, metallic rasping—was right on his heels.
A massive black shadow tore through the bushes on all fours, closing the gap.
Chuck spotted Janet behind the tree but ignored her. He skidded to a halt and spun around. He was perfectly positioned—right behind the drop-net trap he had rigged earlier. He grabbed the trigger rope, his eyes locked on the beast. The bear had a spear buried in its shoulder, and its eyes burned with a murderous red light.
Sweat rolled down Chuck's forehead. His heart was racing, but the world had gone silent. The insects, the wind—everything vanished. The charging bear seemed to move in slow motion, a quirk of his hyper-focused perception.
When the beast was barely ten meters away, Chuck yanked the rope with a violent snap!
Whish!
The support sticks flew out, the heavy stones tumbled, and the wide fiber net fell from the sky like the hand of God.
Thump.
The net draped perfectly over the roaring beast. The bear swiped with its front claws, tearing a hole, but the momentum was broken. It tripped, crashing into the dirt and leaves. It thrashed wildly, its bellows shaking the very trees.
Chuck seized the moment. He raised his last bronze spear and hurled it with everything he had! At this range, the target was impossible to miss. The bronze tip soared through the air and buried itself deep in the bear's throat.
Blood erupted in a hot spray, staining its chest fur crimson. The bear let out a harrowing, gurgling shriek.
A killing blow.
Janet watched from behind the tree, her palms slick with sweat. He's doing it. He's actually killing a bear!
Even Chuck didn't expect it to work this well. But before he could celebrate, the situation turned. Despite the massive blood loss, the bear didn't collapse. It roared to the heavens, its eyes turning a deep, berserk crimson. The lethal wounds hadn't brought it down; they had triggered its final, bloodthirsty survival instinct.
Rip!
The bear's claws shredded the fiber net like wet paper. The dying beast let out a final, desperate howl and launched a suicidal charge at Chuck with a speed that defied its injuries.
Chuck's blood ran cold. He was empty-handed, but his adrenaline forced him to act. He pulled his bronze halberd from his storage space and raised it to block.
CRACK!
The hardwood shaft snapped like a toothpick under the bear's massive paw.
"ARGHH!!"
The primal survival instinct inside Chuck ignited. He roared back, swinging the remaining jagged half of the halberd into the bear's chest.
Squish.
As the blade bit into fur and meat, a monstrous force slammed into Chuck's chest. He felt like he had been hit head-on by a speeding truck. The world spun. He flew through the air, snapped a sapling in half with his back, and hit the ground with a sickening thud.
"Cough... hack..."
The air was hammered out of his lungs. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth. His vision went dark, and his ears rang with a high-pitched whine. His bronze scales were crushed inward—if not for the armor, he would be a pile of broken ribs and pulp.
The bear stood there, two spears in its body and a halberd head in its chest, dripping gore. It moved toward the fallen man with staggering, hateful steps.
Janet turned pale, covering her mouth as she shook with terror. She had to do something. Though her legs were like jelly, she pulled her bronze axe from her belt and stepped out from behind the tree.
"Come on, Janet... don't be a coward..." she whispered to herself. He had proven he was a man worth saving.
As Chuck drifted on the edge of consciousness, a notification flashed in his mind.
[Alert: Multiple broken ribs, internal organ damage. Injury: Severe.] [Passive Skill: Soft Outside, Hard Inside — TRIGGERED!]
A surge of white-hot energy flooded his veins. He gasped as his body was forcibly pulled back from the brink of death. His ribs ground together, snapping back into place; his internal bleeding slowed and sealed. In five seconds, he went from dying to stable.
[Healing Complete: 71% Recovered. Stamina: 1.3%.]
The recovery was miraculous, but the cost was total exhaustion. He tried to stand, but the world tilted, and he collapsed again. He looked up through blurry eyes to see the bear looming over him, its shadow covering his body. One swipe would crush his skull.
Chuck let out a weary, peaceful laugh. He had done his best. If this was the end, he had no regrets.
"Hey! Over here, you stupid beast!!"
A trembling scream rang out. Chuck looked up in shock to see Janet rushing forward, waving her axe at the dying bear.
Shit! Get back! Chuck tried to shout, but he had no breath.
The bear turned its massive, bloody head toward Janet. But then—a whistle sharper and faster than Chuck's spears cut through the air.
Thwack!
A long, black spear buried itself in the bear's hind leg. The beast, already at its limit, finally lost its balance and collapsed for good.
Chuck stared in disbelief. That spear... it was rough, hand-carved. It wasn't one of his. A chill ran down his spine. Who?
Someone had watched the whole fight. Someone had waited for the perfect moment to deliver the finishing blow. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand on shaking legs. Janet, frozen in place, looked just as confused.
A tall, lean figure leaped down from the very trees Chuck had used for his trap. The stranger walked through the dim light toward them.
Chuck balled his fists. He had thought he was the only man here. Was this a rival? A hunter who had used him as bait to take the kill? If he had to die, he'd take this "fisherman" with him.
But as the figure stepped into a shaft of golden sunlight, the features became clear. Silver hair, sharp, striking facial features, and... a very distinct curve to the hips.
Chuck blinked. A woman?
She wore a black sports bra and camo pants. Her shoulders and arms were corded with lean, powerful muscle. She looked at him and spoke in a low, husky voice.
"Кто вы такие, и почему вы оказались здесь?"
Chuck stared. It was definitely a woman's voice. But what language was that? He scratched his head and tried the only thing he knew.
"Hello? How are you?"
"Откуда взялся этот придурок..." The silver-haired woman muttered, looking annoyed.
Chuck didn't know Russian, but the cadence sounded familiar. He'd heard it in old action movies and war reports. He racked his brain for any word he might know. Suddenly, a memory of a viral song hit him—a phrase people used to joke about all the time.
He put on his most friendly, "I-come-in-peace" smile and waved.
"Hi! Uh... Cyka Blyat!"