The White King Bear charged.
Its massive paw swept through the air with a whoosh that Alton felt more than heard. Even at the same level, the beast was a monster of raw power. But Predicting had already mapped its movement in his mind. He twisted aside at the last instant, the deadly claws slicing through empty air where his chest had been.
Again and again the bear attacked—slashing, lunging, trying to crush him under its bulk. Each time, Alton's enhanced reflexes and foresight let him dance just beyond reach. His breath came in sharp, freezing bursts. The new fur coat helped, but the cold still gnawed at him.
When the bear lowered its head and barreled forward like a freight train, Alton was ready. He slipped to the side and triggered Stun. A sharp pulse of energy rippled from his hand as he struck the bear's neck. The beast froze mid-motion for three precious seconds.
"One… two…" Alton planted his feet, drawing his arm back. Power coiled in his muscles like a compressed spring. On the third count, Critical Hit exploded forward.
His fist slammed into the side of the bear's skull with a sickening crack. The impact jolted up his arm and sent the massive creature staggering sideways, shaking its head in pain and confusion.
But it wasn't over. Not even close.
The bear roared in fury and came at him again. What followed was a brutal, exhausting rhythm. Dodge. Stun. Critical Hit. Alton's skills flowed together in a desperate, growing combo. He wasn't graceful—he was a survivor, clumsy but relentless. A claw grazed his shoulder, tearing through the old coat and drawing blood. Pain flared hot against the cold. Adrenaline and pure survival instinct turned him into something almost mechanical.
He ducked under another sweeping paw and countered with a rapid series of kicks, targeting the bear's joints. When the beast reared up, he predicted its landing and struck its exposed eye with a charged punch. The bear howled, blinded in one eye, blood streaking its white fur.
Twenty grueling minutes passed in a blur of snow, blood, and roaring wind. Alton's lungs burned. His muscles screamed. Every dodge came closer, every counter a little sloppier. But the bear was slowing too, its movements growing heavy from accumulated damage.
With one final, desperate combination—dodge, stun, full-power Critical Hit straight to the throat—Alton ended it.
The White King Bear collapsed into the snow with a heavy thud, its massive body still.
A blue window flashed before him.
Level Up! You are now Level 5.
Magic System Unlocked.
"Magic…?" Alton gasped, leaning on his knees. "Low level magics?"
Three options appeared:
Low Level Fire Magic – Produce flames from your hands or fingertips at will.
Low Level Lightning – Generate electricity to temporarily stun enemies.
Low Level Light Magic – Create small balls of light.
He didn't hesitate. Fire was survival. He selected Low Level Fire Magic along with a couple of non-magic skills that looked useful for future fights.
Stepping onto the fallen bear, more windows appeared. He could craft a full set from its body. Without thinking twice—his old clothes were shredded anyway—he selected everything: a thick, full-length bear fur coat, reinforced pants, a shirt, and a face-covering mask. The System worked instantly. Warm, sturdy garments formed around him, covering him from head to toe. The new coat was heavier, far warmer, and surprisingly flexible.
He stored the bear's sharp claws, teeth, and a large amount of meat in his inventory, along with the torn remnants of his old office clothes. Standing there in the blizzard, fully geared and breathing hard, Alton felt a strange mix of exhaustion and pride.
"That was… really tough," he muttered, voice muffled by the mask.
Then he remembered why he had left the cave in the first place.
"Wood. Right."
He quickly selected a new skill: Detection. A subtle pulse radiated outward, letting him sense objects within a hundred-meter radius. Focusing through the storm, he picked up a cluster of branches about seventy meters away.
"Got it."
The walk was short but brutal. When he reached the spot, he found a small pile of frozen, wet branches half-buried in the snow. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. He gathered as many as he could carry and trudged back toward the cave, the blizzard still howling around his new bear-fur coat.