Strongest Radioactive System

Volk sat cross-legged on a makeshift throne of shattered stone and tangled roots, surrounded by the rhythmic breathing of his Orcs and the low growls of the resting Ogres.

The dense canopy above filtered the sunlight, casting dappled shadows across his face.

As the weight of their earlier victory settled in, a sudden and familiar chime echoed in his mind.

Ding!

The sound was sharp, clear, and precise.

Volk's crimson eyes sharpened as a translucent blue screen materialized in his vision.

Missions Available:

Level One: Test of Valor

Objective: Engage and repel the human army.

Reward: Basic Horde Enhancement (Strength +5%).

Level Two: Bloodied Fields

Objective: Severely injure 60% of the human forces.

Reward: Reinforcement Points (Summon 10 additional Orcs).

Level Three: Break Their Spirits

Objective: Kill 80% of the human forces and destroy their morale.

Reward: Beast Companion Rune (Unlocks a secondary magical beast).

Level Four: Total Annihilation

Objective: Kill 95% of the human forces, ensuring they can never regroup.

Reward: Relic of War (A unique artifact that enhances commanding abilities).

Level Five: Purge the Invaders

Objective: Completely wipe out the entire human army. Leave no survivors.

Reward: Radioactive Ban Nullified — Regain unrestricted power and abilities.

Volk's pupils dilated, and his lips curled into a predatory grin. His heart thundered in his chest, excitement surging through his veins.

The implications of Level Five burned brightly in his mind.

If he succeeded, the shackles on his powers would finally be broken. He would no longer be bound by limitations.

His fingers drummed on the armrest of his crude throne, and he exhaled deeply, the grin never fading.

"So, they send their armies against us, thinking us weak," Volk muttered, his voice low but laced with a dangerous edge. "They think they can reclaim what they lost. Foolish."

He stood abruptly, his imposing figure casting a long shadow that drew the attention of every Orc and Ogre around him.

Their conversations and laughter died down, replaced by focused silence as they turned their eyes to him.

"Listen!" Volk's voice thundered, cutting through the stillness like a blade.

"I have received words from the very essence of this realm. The humans march toward us with their fragile steel and borrowed magic.

"They think us are just nothing but beasts to be slaughtered. But today—today, we show them what a horde truly is!"

The Orcs roared in response, a guttural sound that shook the air. The Ogres added their own deep, bone-rattling growls, the chains adorning their massive frames clinking ominously.

Volk raised a hand, and the noise subsided. His eyes glowed fiercely as he paced before them.

"We are faced with choices," he began.

"We could repel them, send them scurrying back to their soft, pathetic homes. Or we could cripple them, leave their knights broken and their mages shattered. We could show them the might of our blades and the resilience of our shields."

He paused, turning to face them fully. "But I say that is not enough. I say we take everything from them—crush their bodies, shatter their spirits, and erase their names from history!"

The crowd erupted again, fists pounding on shields and weapons clashing against armor.

"Prepare yourselves!"

Volk roared, his voice rising above the chaos.

"We face a foe that outnumbers us, a foe that brings steel and magic to our doorstep. But they do not know us! They do not know the strength of a united horde, the fury of Orcs and Ogres fighting as one!"

He pointed toward a group of Ogres. "You giants! You are the hammer of this horde! Sharpen your chains, ready your fists, and remember—their bones will splinter beneath your blows!"

The Ogres bellowed in agreement, their massive frames shifting as they began sharpening weapons and tightening their chains.

He turned to the Orcs next, his gaze sweeping over them.

"And you, my warriors, my brothers and sisters in blood. You are the shields, the spears, the unyielding wall that will break their charge. Do not waver, do not falter. Fight as one, and no blade, no spell, can pierce our line!"

"Yes, Warchief!" they roared in unison, their voices echoing into the forest.

Volk began issuing specific commands. "Archers! Find the high ground, and let no knight cross unscathed. Shamans! Focus your energy—cripple their spells before they can reach us!"

The Orc mages nodded, their staffs crackling with green energy.

"Warriors!" Volk's voice rose again. "Double-check your armor, your blades, your shields. This is not just a battle. This is the birth of a legend!"

Suddenly, a distant rumble reached their ears—the unmistakable sound of hundreds of boots marching in unison.

The ground beneath them quivered slightly, and a chill ran through the air.

"They're close," Volk growled, his tone grim. He stepped forward, raising his arms to calm the nervous shuffling in the ranks.

"Do not fear their numbers. Fear is a weapon they wield against the weak. And we are not weak!"

"No, we are not!" the Orcs roared back, their voices shaking the trees.

Volk's gaze darkened as the rumbling grew louder, closer.

He could sense the tension rising in his horde, but it was a tension of readiness, not fear. He raised his voice one last time, a final rallying cry.
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"Today, we fight not as scattered tribes or individuals but as a single, unstoppable force! Today, we show the humans what it means to face the fury of the horde! Today, we fight for domination!"

The Orcs and Ogres roared in unison, a sound so powerful it seemed to shake the heavens themselves. They moved into formation, shields locking, weapons gleaming, eyes burning with determination.

Volk stepped to the front, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, a predatory grin spreading across his face.

"Let us show them the price of underestimating the horde."

The calm before the storm was heavy, a thick, almost suffocating anticipation hanging over the horde.

Shields were checked, weapons sharpened, and armor tightened.

The faint tremor of the approaching human army was like a heartbeat in the earth, growing louder with each moment.

Amidst the readiness, one Orc stood, brow furrowed, his sharp tusks catching the light. His curiosity burned brighter than his battle-ready rage.

He stepped forward, his voice breaking the tension. "Warchief," he growled, his tone more puzzled than disrespectful.

"Why? Why do we prepare so much for these weak humans? They're nothing but cattle with spears and little magic tricks. Why not just crush them like insects and move on?"

The question hung in the air, silencing murmurs among the ranks.

The Orcs turned their heads, eyes narrowing, some nodding slightly as if they, too, shared the sentiment.

Volk, standing at the head of the formation, slowly turned. His crimson eyes burned like embers, fixing on the questioning Orc.

"Why?" Volk repeated, his voice low and deliberate, yet carrying the weight of command.

He let the silence stretch, his piercing gaze sweeping across the crowd.

The tension grew thicker as even the Ogres paused in their preparations, their chains clinking softly as they stilled to listen.

Volk's lips curled into a dark grin, his fangs glinting. "You think these humans are weak? That their armor and numbers mean nothing against us? Let me tell you something that will sear itself into your very soul."