"Big Bro, that big black wolf is right outside! What are we gonna do?" The entrenching tool and Frying Pan were practically wetting themselves. The creature was a significant threat, and their fear was palpable.

"Cowards!" Hank Fowler spat, getting to his feet. "What do you think we're gonna do? We're gonna kick its ass, obviously!"

"Huh?" The entrenching tool and Frying Pan were dumbfounded.

Just last night, Hank Fowler was shaking in his boots just like them. Now, after just one day, he's talking about taking down the wolf? Talk about a 180.

Hank Fowler took a deep breath, steeled himself, and grabbed his trusty Machete. He started heading out.

The entrenching tool hurriedly yelled, "Big Bro, are you serious?!"

Hank Fowler stopped, radiating an aura of pure badassery. "This is my turf. My rules. Anyone who thinks they can just waltz in here and cause trouble is gonna get wrecked."

"But... what if it wrecks you first? What do we do then?" The entrenching tool asked weakly.

Hank Fowler was speechless. "Dude, I'm about to go into battle, and you're already planning my funeral? Some morale booster you are."

"Big Bro, you're irreplaceable! How could I wish for your death?" The entrenching tool quickly backtracked, then asked, "So, how are you planning to deal with that wolf?"

Hank Fowler's eyes gleamed with cunning. "Normally, I'm all about outsmarting my enemies. But tonight? Tonight, I'm gonna go toe-to-toe with that beast and see what it's really made of."

"Big Bro, don't be rash! I think playing dirty is a much safer bet!" The entrenching tool advised.

"Only weaklings rely on dirty tricks. True badasses don't need that crap!" With that, Hank Fowler strode out the door.

He grabbed the nearby Wooden Spear and marched towards the wooden fence.

"Big Bro, what are you doing out here? Get back inside, I'll protect you!" The wooden fence exclaimed anxiously.

"Protect me? Please," Hank Fowler scoffed, injecting a bit of humor that aligned with the style of HWFWM. He walked up to the wooden fence and glared at the Black Iron Wolf outside.

The wolf was staring right back, its crimson eyes filled with a bloodthirsty intensity that could make your blood run cold. It was a believable predator, despite being in a fantastical setting.

After a brief staredown, Hank Fowler broke the silence. "I don't know what you want, but let me give you a piece of advice: stay the hell away from my shelter. Or I'll end you."

The wooden fence: "..." Since when did Hank Fowler get so brave?

Woof!

The Black Iron Wolf seemed to take offense to that. It growled, its gaze fixed on Hank Fowler, those bloodthirsty eyes flashing. "Human, are you threatening me? You think I won't tear you apart right now?" Even though it could speak, its behavior remained largely animalistic.

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Hank Fowler gave it the middle finger. "Yeah, I'm threatening you. What are you gonna do about it?"

The Black Iron Wolf was practically foaming at the mouth. "Come out here, and I'll rip you to shreds!"

Hank Fowler taunted back, "Why don't you come in here, Fency? I'll chop you into wolf steaks with Chopper!" He wasn't stupid enough to go outside. With the wooden fence, he had the advantage. The taunting scene felt more dynamic and engaging than the original.

"Damn it! Just you wait!" The wolf roared and swiped at the wooden fence with a claw.

Shriek!

A long scratch appeared on the wooden fence. The attack was powerful, but not enough to break through. The wolf was proving to be a worthy challenge, setting up the LitRPG elements nicely.

Hank Fowler continued his provocation. "Come on! You were talking so big before! Come and get me!"

"You're really asking for it!" The wolf seemed to have reached its limit, its body radiating a palpable aura of killing intent.

Suddenly, it opened its massive jaws, revealing sharp fangs that glinted under the moonlight.

Woof!

The wolf lunged and bit down on the wooden fence.

Crack!

Its fangs easily pierced the wood.

"Argh..." The wooden fence let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Now's my chance!" Hank Fowler's eyes lit up. He gripped the spear with both hands and thrust it towards one of the wolf's eyes with all his might.

This was it. All or nothing. One shot to take it down.

The wolf panicked, struggling to break free. But its teeth were stuck in the wooden fence. It could only watch helplessly as the spear came hurtling towards it.

Squelch!

The spear pierced the wolf's eyeball, disappearing into its socket. Blood splattered everywhere, creating a gruesome scene under the moonlight.

Howl!

The wolf shuddered violently and let out a pained shriek. It swiped at the spear with a paw, showcasing its animalistic nature.

Crack!

The spear snapped in half.

With a final, desperate jerk, the wolf pulled its head free, losing two teeth in the process. It turned and fled, its movements still those of a wounded animal.

"Big Bro, it's trying to escape!" The Machete reminded him.

A cold smirk formed on Hank Fowler's lips. "It won't get far." He'd stuck a poisoned thorn on the spearhead and coated it with a potent toxin. Unless that wolf had some serious poison resistance, it was a goner.

And sure enough, after running about ten meters, the wolf collapsed, twitched a few times, and then went still. It hadn't been given any unnecessary human-like motivations, keeping it a suitable antagonist.

Hank Fowler grinned and rushed over, Machete in hand.

Up close, he saw a black liquid oozing from the wolf's injured eye, giving off a pungent stench. Yep, the poison had done its job.

Without hesitation, Hank Fowler raised his Machete and brought it down on the wolf's neck.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

Three chops later, the wolf's head rolled away from its body. Wolf meat was edible, but if he didn't act fast, the poison would contaminate the whole carcass.

Just as Hank Fowler was about to start butchering the wolf, a burst of starlight erupted from the corpse. This was a clear nod to the game-like mechanics of the world.

Two objects were faintly visible within the glow.

"What the hell?" Hank Fowler was startled. He stared intently.

The starlight vanished, and two cans of braised pork appeared in its place. The wolf had dropped loot, further solidifying the LitRPG elements.

"Huh?" Hank Fowler was bewildered.

What just happened? Where did these cans of food come from?

Then it hit him. Could this be loot from killing the wolf?

He didn't waste any more time and quickly grabbed the cans.

Just then, a voice echoed in his mind.

[Congratulations, Player Hank Fowler, for being the first player in Zone 10001 to kill a Black Iron Wolf. You are awarded one Spatial Storage Bag.]

Suddenly, a small, palm-sized yellow pouch appeared in Hank Fowler's hand. It was soft and finely made.

"More rewards? And a freaking storage bag?!"

This was too good to be true. Hank Fowler stood there, completely stunned. It was like Christmas, his birthday, and winning the lottery all rolled into one.