Ragnar spent the last few days hunting monsters and completing quests until he reached level 10, which granted him a total of 25 attribute points to distribute.

  Ten points were spent in Agility and Constitution, which, although not the primary attributes for the druid class, would provide faster movement and greater resilience. And the remaining fifteen points were allocated to Magic Power.

  Reaching level 10 also granted him a new ability.

  This skill would increase his dueling power by a significant amount. The agility boost was one of the highest for this level, and the additional Lightning Damage would scale with his main attribute: Magic Power.

  To balance such power in a single ability, it consumed 20% of his current total mana and lasted for 30 seconds. Even if Ragnar had infinite mana, the skill couldn’t be reactivated immediately; he would have to wait 30 seconds for the cooldown to end.

  For these reasons, Storm’s Wrath had to be used with caution, or it could be unavailable at a crucial moment. Despite these limitations, Ragnar could feel the strength of his avatar awakening.

  At the moment, he was in serpent form, slithering through the dense forest northeast of Bremer, near the borders of the provincial capital, the City of Salem.

  After so much time in serpent form, moving started to flow more naturally. The strangeness he felt at first gradually gave way to a rewarding familiarity.

  A similar phenomenon had occurred with bear form, but on a much smaller scale.

  Ragnar turned his snake head to the right. Lady Plissken turned hers to look at her master. With the tail, she pointed to a thin-trunked, sparsely branched tree.

  The tree was tall, the tallest in the surrounding area.

  An idea struck Ragnar like lightning. During the journey, human form had been useful for observing the surroundings from a higher vantage point. Now it seemed unnecessary.

  He launched himself at the tree and wrapped his body around the trunk until he secured himself.

  It worked, Ragnar thought with satisfaction, then began spiraling upward toward the treetop. The forest opened like an ocean in his field of vision. From this privileged point, he observed the terrain ahead.

  A vast green expanse stretched for half a kilometer, followed by a stretch of low forest without trees, ending in a concave rock wall.

  A natural circular barrier. He was sure it was the Iron Bears’ Refuge, Ragnar remembered the location the mysterious man had mentioned. Then carefully descended from the tree.

  With Lady Plissken, he advanced crawling through the undergrowth. Fortunately, there were no hostile creatures nearby, just small insects and terrifying level 30 monsters like panthers and wolves, which wouldn’t attack unless provoked.

  It took twenty minutes to cross the forest and reach the rocky wall he had seen from the tree.

  Back in human form, Ragnar searched around the wall for an entrance. The concave shape extended in a circle that encompassed much of the forest.

  Time passed, and Ragnar began to think he was walking in circles.

  Altogether, it took nearly three hours to find the entrance. Head down, Ragnar hoped for a miracle. Just as hope began to fade, guttural grunts typical of orcs reached his ears, they were arguing.

  Ragnar sneaked closer along the wall. In the distance, a gap in the rocks came into view, but as he approached, it revealed itself as a twenty-meter-wide passage with a trail running through it, surely the entrance to the refuge.

  He almost cried with joy.

  The arguing orcs were next to a crude wooden tower in the center of the passage, built with minimal effort.

  Are they guarding the refuge? he thought, approaching with caution.

  Ragnar looked at them closely, they had gray skin, brown tattoos, and strong but not exaggerated muscles.

  Before approaching, he dismissed Lady Plissken and put away his weapon so the orcs wouldn’t be startled. Now alone, Ragnar walked along the trail leading into the Bears’ Refuge.

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  "Hu-human, stop!" yelled the orc on the left.

  Ragnar obeyed. The orc on the right, the larger one, asked, "What you doing here?"

  "I’m a druid traveling the sanctuaries of this region. May I ask what you are doing here?"

  The orc on the left scratched the back of his neck, then his forehead, then looked up at the clouds. He walked over to his companion and said loudly in his ear, "What’s a duidr?"

  The orc on the right pounded his chest and replied, "It’s call druidr! A poor man who eat herb soup and drink mud tea."

  The left orc laughed, patting his belly.

  Although the orcs were not very intelligent, Ragnar was offended by their comments. He scowled and advanced toward the passage.

  The orcs ran to the tower, grabbed their axes, and returned to block the path.

  "I need to enter," Ragnar said. "My journey is part of an ancient ritual of my people."

  The shorter of them, the orc on the left, replied, "No! Tuskir tribe planning to invade land of evil bears."

  Land of evil bears? Then there’s no doubt this was the Iron Bears’ Refuge, Ragnar realized, cursing that he had to enter on the day an orc tribe planned an invasion.

  "But…" he began, "why do you want to invade the sanctuary?"

  The left orc raised his axe and said, "We Tuskir want to steal treasures, but place is full of angry bears that eat orc."

  There was clearly interest in the refuge, and Ragnar devised a plan to persuade them.

  "But isn’t the Bears’ Refuge a druid sanctuary? And aren’t druidr weird people who eat herb cakes and drink mud juice? Do you really think ragged druids like me would have treasures to guard?"

  The orcs looked at each other, scratched their necks and foreheads again, and gazed at the sun and the surrounding landscape for answers. The orc on the right suddenly trembled as if struck by a brilliant realization.

  "Forest man speaks truth! Druidr are poor. We Tuskir are strong and rich. Inside we find herb tea and mud cake. Bears dangerous, they hurt orc and eat them. Not worth to be eat."

  The left orc nodded, shaking his head.

  "Let’s gather Tuskir tribe, chief warrior must know truth. Attacking Druidr Sanctuary is bad for Tuskir."

  His companion agreed, and together, without another word, they left.

  Ragnar was now alone, facing the sanctuary entrance with only a trail surrounded by brush.

  He imagined the Bears’ Refuge would be as beautiful and well-kept as the Sanctuary of Lilies, but it looked abandoned.

  With no other viable option, Ragnar followed the trail, and encountered only plants, insects, and birds, until the grass in front of him rustled.

  A powerful, ferocious, yet familiar roar announced the creature’s attack. A mass of brown fur burst from the foliage, hitting him and throwing him backward.

  Down on the floor, Ragnar saw a bear approaching. The animal bared its teeth and threatened to strike him with its massive right paw.

  "I’m a druid, I’m a friend!" he cried in desperation.

  The bear ignored the plea and struck. Ragnar rolled to the right, dodging the attack that hit the ground.

  He didn’t want to fight inside a sanctuary called the Iron Bears’ Refuge. Killing the animal that gave the place its name would be one of the worst things a druid could do.

  But the brown bear in front of him growled for some reason.

  A bear, of course.

  Ragnar used his shapeshifting ability, transforming into a black bear.

  A deep voice resonated, "I can’t believe it, a human who can become one of us."

  The animal’s mouth didn’t move, but its thoughts echoed in the air in a deep, resonant tone matching its form.

  Ragnar was amazed. He had tried communicating with Lady Plissken in serpent form but never could catch her thoughts. It was time to see if the communication was two-way.

  "I’m a friendly druid seeking Bjorn." His mouth didn’t move, yet the words still echoed.

  The furious expression on the bear’s face softened.

  "You can communicate…"

  Ragnar replied humorously, "I’m as surprised as you are."

  "You said you are looking for Bjorn… I’m afraid he died a hundred years ago."

  Impossible. Finding him would grant the legendary evolution of my class. Had the mysterious stranger been wrong about the mission? Ragnar thought, struggling to control the frustration building up inside.

  Tears of disappointment welled in his bear eyes. Achieving legendary evolution would put him on equal footing with all the best players in the world, even White Snow.

  Seeing the druid’s downcast expression, the brown beast spoke, "Come, I’ll introduce you to Torvell, our leader."

  Those words were a spark of hope. Perhaps something could still be done. Ragnar checked his quest window and confirmed that the mission "Bjorn’s Legacy" was still active.

  The brown bear returned to the trail, and, as suggested, Ragnar followed it while keeping animal form. Along the way, the two exchanged a few words, but the creature didn’t seem willing to answer all of the questions asked.

  Ten minutes later, they arrived at the Druid Sanctuary known as the Iron Bears’ Refuge. The place had an abandoned, dirty, and vandalized appearance.

  The walls of buildings were covered in climbing plants and riddled with holes through which ants and other insects entered.

  Despite the sad state of the place, it wasn’t abandoned at all. Dozens of large bears of various species were living inside the sanctuary.

  The bear led Ragnar down a long corridor. At last, they reached a large rectangular room with four holes in the ceiling where sunlight streamed in. In the center, a circle was marked on the floor.

  In the middle stood a bear nearly twice Ragnar’s size. Its red eyes were intimidating, but the most fearsome aspect were its paws, covered in layers of iron with sharp, blade-like protrusions.

  Ragnar felt a chill down his spine just by seeing it. The brown bear walked slowly toward the black-furred monstrosity. They exchanged a few words in low voices.

  The brown bear turned to Ragnar and said, "Come."

  In animal form, Ragnar walked on all fours. The strange beast’s red eyes fixed on his. It spoke, "I’m Torvell, leader of the last iron bears. I protect this sacred place from invaders and ill-intentioned people. My brother says you are a druid, is that true?"

  Ragnar nodded.

  "Can you return to human form?" Torvell asked.

  The druid complied. Moments later, he was no longer a black bear but a pale-skinned man with messy dark hair.

  "You remind me of Bjorn," said the iron bear. "But perhaps my memory deceives me. Bjorn was a powerful warrior, an unparalleled caster, not a weakling."

  Ragnar wasn’t offended as the mention of Bjorn rekindled his hope. He asked solemnly:

  "Please, tell me about Bjorn."

  "You want to know the life of the last Archdruid of this sanctuary?"

  Ragnar nodded.

  "Then you must do a great favor for me."

  "I’ll do what you ask."

  "Excellent. There’s an orc tribe called Tuskir. They are about to invade this sanctuary. A battle between us and them could wipe out all of us, the last iron bears in the world. We need your help to drive them off. They have built camps around the wall surrounding this place, but their leader is in a settlement to the north. If you destroy the settlement and defeat the leader, I will help you."

  Ragnar paused for a moment, recalling his conversation with the orcs guarding the sanctuary entrance, then casually said, "Torvell, I’m proud to inform you that I’ve already handled this problem."

  The red eyes and intimidating expression of the iron bear softened for a moment, until he said, "Is this some kind of provocation? How dare you act disrespectfully toward us?"

  The bear advanced toward the druid at the same time a light-brown bear rushed into the hall, saying breathlessly, "Torvell! Something unbelievable happened, the Tuskir are breaking camp. They are leaving eastward."

  Torvell turned a confused face toward Ragnar.

  "What did you do?"

  Ragnar smiled slyly, "I convinced them there was nothing valuable to loot in this sanctuary."

  "Just that?"

  "Yes…" he shrugged. "Now it’s your turn to fulfill your part of the deal. So, tell me, who was Bjorn?"

  Thank you for reading my story.