Date: August 7, 541 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The forest on the border of the goblin lands knew no peace. Here, trees grew densely, their roots intertwined in an eternal struggle for a patch of fertile soil, and the air was always thick with the smell of rotting leaves and wild beasts. But today, the sounds of the forest—the chirping of birds and the rustle of small game—were drowned out by something far more ferocious.
"A-agh-argh! Come on, you fur-bag, is that all you've got?!" Datuk's voice, hoarse and powerful, tore through the silence like a thunderclap.
The dwarf stood in the center of a small clearing, and his appearance could have frightened even a seasoned mercenary. Naked to the waist, in torn trousers held together by sheer will, and barefoot, he seemed part of this wild landscape. His skin, covered in layers of dust, sweat, and fresh blood, was ridged with monstrous muscles. Datuk was short, like all dwarves, but his density was phenomenal—he resembled a cast-iron cannonball filled with pure, raging heat.
His inner power, corresponding to the Warrior rank, didn't flow in a trickle. It seethed, bursting out through the pores of his skin. On Datuk's fists were heavy gloves studded with sharp steel spikes, now stained red.
Opposite him, breathing heavily, stood Sobra. A gigantic brown bear, whose hide was no less bloodied than the dwarf's chest, stared at his opponent with small, burning eyes. In this beast, one felt not just animal strength, but a conscious inner essence. Sobra was also a Warrior, and his claws, made as hard as diamonds by the action of power development, had tasted Datuk's flesh more than once today.
The bear answered the challenge with a guttural roar that made the leaves on the trees tremble, and lunged first into the attack.
The collision was like the impact of two tectonic plates. Datuk didn't dodge. He met the bear head-on, putting all his weight and will into a short, crushing uppercut.
The spiked glove slammed into Sobra's powerful jaw. A dull sound was heard, and the bear's head snapped back, but the beast only became more enraged. An enormous paw came down on the dwarf's shoulder, leaving three deep furrows. Datuk didn't even flinch. His regeneration, characteristic of a Warrior, instantly began to pull the edges of the wound together, not letting blood loss slow his movements.
"Weak!" Datuk roared, spinning in a mad dance. "Your spirit is asleep, Sobra! Awaken it, or I'll beat all your vaunted greatness out of you!"
The dwarf rained a hail of blows upon the bear. Each strike was honed by years of brawling: to the liver, to the gut, to the powerful paws. Datuk didn't just hit—he was looking for that very "core" he valued so highly in living beings. For him, this fight wasn't an attempt to kill, but an act of the highest recognition. If you stand against him and don't fall—you are worthy of respect.
Sobra wasn't one to stay in debt. The bear used his weight, trying to pin the dwarf to the ground, his bites tore the skin on Datuk's arms, and his roar drowned out all other sounds. They circled the clearing, trampling the grass and breaking small trees, turning everything around into a zone of absolute chaos.
The density of Datuk's inner power grew with each blow he received. Pain for him was the best catalyst—it burned away everything superfluous, leaving only pure, unclouded will. His Vessel, white-hot, demanded more, and Datuk gave it that, throwing himself into the beast's embrace again and again.
It wasn't an elegant duel of Agrim Adepts. It was a battle of flesh, sweat, and bone. There was no room for cunning here—only a test of whose spirit would prove stronger under a hail of blows. Blood mixed with the earth, breathing became more and more labored, but neither was going to give up.
At that moment, Datuk was truly happy. Here, on the border of the goblin forests, he wasn't a "brawler" or a "problem dwarf." He was a force that had found a worthy echo. And in each of Sobra's blows, he felt the same sincerity he sought in every interlocutor.
The fight continued until the sky itself began to darken, as if nature had decided to close its eyes to this madness.