Date: August 7, 541 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The forest seemed to hold its breath when Datuk's final blow and Sobra's counter-lunge ended in a simultaneous fall. The dwarf and the bear crashed into the trampled mud, mixed with blood and pine needles. Silence fell, broken only by the labored, wheezing breath of both fighters.
Datuk lay on his back, arms outstretched. His chest, slashed by claws, heaved. The inner heat that fueled his Berserker Spirit slowly cooled, leaving behind a pleasant heaviness and a tingling sensation throughout his body. This Spirit was his curse and blessing simultaneously: in the heat of battle, it turned the dwarf into an unstoppable whirlwind of rage, ignoring pain, but the price for this was total exhaustion after the fight.
"Ha... ha-ha..." the first chuckle burst from Datuk's bloodied lips suddenly, like a dry branch snapping underfoot.
A second later, the clearing was filled with thunderous, unrestrained laughter. Datuk laughed so hard that the wounds on his ribs started bleeding again, but he didn't care. It was the laughter of a man who had just looked into the abyss and found it winking back at him.
Sobra, lying two steps away, lifted his massive head. The bear let out a long, deep roar towards the overcast sky. In this sound, there was no malice—only the triumph of strength and the joy that his flesh had withstood the test. Sobra shook himself, splattering drops of blood, and, staggering, crawled over to the dwarf.
Datuk, still laughing, wrapped his powerful right arm, still wearing the spiked glove, around the bear's neck. In response, Sobra buried his wet nose in the dwarf's shoulder, letting out a contented grumble.
"Good one, shaggy... damn good one!" Datuk slapped the beast on the scruff, and the steel spikes on his glove clinked dully against the bear's bony growths. "Your spirit sang today like the finest steel in the Patriarchs' forges!"
They lay like that for about an hour, until their regeneration had brought their bodies into relative order. The deep cuts healed, turning into coarse crimson scars, and the internal tremor in their muscles subsided.
Datuk sat up, peeling his back from the ground with difficulty. He looked at his hands. The spiked gloves were dented, and the skin beneath them was one massive bruise.
"You know why I come to you, Sobra?" the dwarf spat blood and wiped his face with a dirty palm. "Because you can't lie. You don't wear silks like those pompous upstarts from Agrim, and you don't hide behind pretty words about 'Order' like the knights of the North. If you want to kill me—you just hit. If you respect me—you hit even harder."
Sobra listened attentively, his head tilted. For this forest dweller, Datuk wasn't just a two-legs, but a member of the pack—its strangest, noisiest, and most dangerous member. Their friendship had begun three years ago, when Datuk, still an Initiate, challenged a young bear to a duel for the right to possess the "energy honey" of wild bees. Since then, their sparring had become a ritual in which each drew strength to advance along the Warrior path.
"There are too many cowards in this world now," Datuk continued, getting to his feet. His muscles bulged like living stones. "People hide their fear behind power levels and titles. But when steel touches skin, only your inner core remains. Either you have it, or you're just a piece of meat waiting for its butcher."
The dwarf walked over to Sobra and hugged the bear's huge head tightly. In response, the beast gently bit Datuk's ear—a gesture of the highest trust.
"My dream, Sobra..." Datuk looked into the distance, where beyond the forest rose the dwarven mountains. "It's a world where no one can hide their weakness behind a mask. Where the strength of the spirit will be the only measure of a person. And I'll beat that truth into everyone who stands in my way."
He picked up his torn boots, lying by the roots of an old fir, but didn't put them on—his bare feet loved feeling the firmness of his native earth.
"Let's go, brother," Datuk commanded. "Time to head back. The city hasn't heard a real roar in a long time, and I need to wash this grime off and drink something stronger than this swamp sludge."
The dwarf and the bear moved through the thicket towards the dwarven settlements. The tall, muscular shorty and the huge, bloodied predator walked shoulder to shoulder, presenting a spectacle that could make any goblin scout flee in terror without looking back. Datuk walked confidently, and his Berserker Spirit, though sleeping, lent each of his steps a weight that made the earth beneath him nod in agreement.