The King of the Bison (Page 1/2)

"Whoosh!"

With a flash of white light, Jack returned to the game and found himself back in the bison territory.

By now, the in-game scene had shifted to nighttime. A luminous moon hung high in the sky like a giant disco ball, while crickets chirped their nightly symphony and fireflies danced around bushes and trees like tiny green lanterns on steroids. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful.

Gripping his iron sword tightly, Jack crept through the grass, searching for lone bison that were far enough from the herd. He knew better than to take on more than three at once unless he wanted an early trip back to the respawn point.

Time slipped by unnoticed, just like how one loses track of nachos during a football game. Everything went according to plan; though the bellows of enraged bison echoed louder than a rock concert in the quiet night, thankfully, they didn't summon reinforcements en masse.

Jack's combat skills against these beasts had reached peak efficiency—like slicing butter with a hot knife. Three hours later, golden light rained down upon him as he leveled up to Level 6!

"That's enough for today…"

Glancing at the clock and his ever-growing experience bar, Jack decided it was time to log off and grab some well-deserved shut-eye.

"MooOOOOO!!"

Suddenly, a roar thundered through the air, deeper and more menacing than any ordinary bison could muster. It sounded like Godzilla clearing its throat after gargling gravel.

"Huh?"

Just as Jack was about to hit the logout button, this unexpected roar yanked him back into action. His eyes widened with excitement. "Boss fight?!"

Without hesitation, he stealthily moved toward the source of the noise, heart pounding like a drum solo. Finally, near a babbling brook, he spotted it—a colossal beast resembling a walking mountain made entirely out of muscle and fury. Its eyes glowed red, its horns curved menacingly upward like medieval spears, and its entire body shimmered with an eerie crimson aura. This wasn't your average bison; this was the Bison King, chilling by the water like it owned the place.

Knowing that knowledge is power—or at least helpful when facing something that could squash you flatter than a pancake—Jack cast his trusty **Scouting Skill**.

[Bison King] (Bronze-Class Boss) Level: 8 Health: 4000 Attack: 18-23 Defense: 14 Skills: [Tough Hide], [Charge Attack], [Berserk] Description: The cream of the bison crop, corrupted by death energy, making it far stronger than its peers. Young adventurers, beware—it might kick your butt so hard you'll think you've been hit by a truck.

Ignoring the snarky description, Jack compared the stats to his own. He took a deep breath, feeling torn between bravery and self-preservation.

This thing was no joke. Every stat was leagues above his own, but the real kicker? That defense rating. And those skills… especially Berserk. If it boosted its already insane stats even further, he'd be lucky to scratch its paint job.

"...A week from now, who knows what'll happen? No guts, no glory!" Jack clenched his teeth. "Let's do this."

If worse came to worst—and by worst, we mean getting curb-stomped—he still had his ace in the hole: a Forbidden Spell Scroll. Sure, using it would be like bringing a bazooka to a pillow fight, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Or extremely overpowered ones.

He scanned the area, ensuring there weren't any other bison lurking nearby ready to crash the party. Then, channeling his inner mischievous prankster, Jack picked up a rock and hurled it straight at the Bison King's most vulnerable spot—right under its belly where two suspiciously round objects dangled.

-25!

A critical hit! In one glorious throw, he shaved off 25 points of health from the mighty beast's 4000 HP pool. Not bad for a guy armed with nothing but a pebble and sheer audacity.

"MOOOOO!!"

The Bison King stopped mid-drink, turning to glare at Jack with all the rage of a caffeine-deprived barista. Its front hoof pawed the ground like a bullfighter's nightmare, nostrils flaring dramatically.

Ding! System Notification: Your cowardly sneak attack has enraged the Bison King, triggering its [Berserk] state prematurely! Attack +25%, Movement Speed +20%, Defense -40%. Duration: Until the end of combat.

"Prematurely?" Jack couldn't help but chuckle. "Talk about sensitive!"

"MOO!"

The Bison King charged forward without giving him a chance to process the absurdity of the situation. It moved faster than a cheetah on Red Bull, heading straight for him like a runaway freight train.

But Jack wasn't fazed. As the behemoth closed in, he sidestepped with the grace of a matador dodging a bull. "Well, this is convenient," he muttered under his breath. "I was worried about not being able to dent your armor. Thanks for nerfing yourself, big guy."

"MOO!"

The Bison King clearly didn't understand sarcasm—or maybe it did and just didn't care. Either way, it kept charging blindly, relying solely on brute force. Unfortunately for it, Jack was smarter than your average bear—or in this case, smarter than your average bison.

Every time the beast missed, Jack struck back with precision, dealing solid damage. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before the king became mincemeat. But patience was key; rushing in would be like trying to wrestle a grizzly bear with a toothpick. So, Jack played it cool, dancing around the enraged monster like a boxer avoiding punches.