Strongest Radioactive System

A sudden, eerie silence fell over the battlefield, cutting through the heavy air like a blade.

The Bloodfang Clan leader, seasoned in countless battles, scanned the faces of the Dreadmaw Clan.

What he saw wasn't fear.

It was something much more dangerous—desire.

The kind of desire only orcs knew.

A bloodlust, a craving for battle so deep it twisted even the most terrifying situation into something thrilling. His gut twisted.

But then his eyes fell on Volk. More specifically, on the dog skull around Volk's neck.

There was something about it—no, not something—dark magic. The faint, pulsing aura that clung to the skull was unmistakable.

The Bloodfang Clan leader's eyes narrowed. His battle-hardened instincts screamed at him.

"What is that?" the Bloodfang leader whispered, his voice tinged with fear. His gaze locked onto the skull.

Volk stopped mid-step, his towering form casting a shadow over the Bloodfang leader. He followed the leader's gaze to the skull on his chest, confusion flickering in his eyes.

On Volk's right, Grashk, still brimming with adrenaline from his transformation, stepped forward. His voice was filled with pride. "A trophy upon killing a Warlock," he said, his chest puffed out. "Volk, our leader, did it!"

The moment those words left Grashk's lips, the atmosphere shifted.

It was as if time itself had stopped.

The orcs of the Bloodfang and Ironhide Clans stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief.

Their muscles stiffened, their minds barely able to comprehend what they had just heard.

A Warlock.

Volk killed a Warlock.

Slowly, the trembling began.

One by one, the orcs of both clans started to shake.

Their breaths became shallow, and their eyes darted nervously between each other, waiting for someone to break the silence.

The weight of Grashk's words hit them like a hammer.

Warlocks were legends.

Nightmares whispered to young orcs to keep them in line. Beings of dark magic, untouchable, unstoppable.

The Bloodfang leader swallowed hard. "Did you know what that meant?" His voice was low, almost reverent, as he stared at Volk, his entire demeanor having shifted from confident arrogance to wary disbelief.

Volk, seeing the fear ripple through the orcs, raised an eyebrow.

He had never seen them this spooked, not even in the face of battle.

What meant what?

He glanced down at the skull again, confused.

"What do you mean?"

Volk asked, his voice sharp but genuinely puzzled.

The Bloodfang leader looked at him as if he couldn't believe his ears. "You didn't know?" he said, his voice cracking with disbelief. Volk's confusion deepened.

"Yes?"

The Bloodfang leader's expression grew more incredulous by the second. He turned to look at the Dreadmaw orcs, his voice rising, as if searching for any sign of recognition. "Do any of you know what this means? The significance of the Warlock?"

Volk turned his head slightly, gazing at his fellow orcs.

All of them looked just as confused as he did, each one slowly shaking their heads.

No one had the faintest idea of what the Bloodfang leader was talking about.

The silence stretched.

"Tell us," Volk demanded, his patience wearing thin. His tone was laced with the underlying threat of violence, as if daring the Bloodfang leader to keep this vital information from them.

The Bloodfang leader's face softened slightly, a mixture of pity and frustration crossing his features. He ran a hand over his scarred face, exhaling deeply. "You didn't know," he repeated softly, more to himself than anyone else.

"It's because you've always been the last clan to enter the catacombs, isn't it? No one bothered to tell you."

There was a collective rumble of confusion from the Dreadmaw orcs, but they remained silent, waiting for the Bloodfang leader to explain.

Clearing his throat, the Bloodfang leader began to speak. His voice was heavy with the gravity of what he was about to reveal.

"The Warlocks… they are more than just powerful beings. Their presence in the Catacomb signals something far worse. When a Warlock appears near the clans of orcs, it means one thing. Migration."

He paused, watching the realization sink in. "The Warlock's arrival means the clans need to leave. Fast. Or else…"

The leader of the Ironhide Clan, who had been silently observing the conversation from a distance, stepped forward.

His deep voice rumbled through the cavern. .

"It's true. Every time a Warlock or Dark Elven Witch appears, we must leave. If we don't, hunts follow. And hunts with them... means death and slavery. For all clans.

We will be hunted like an animal."

Volk's heart skipped a beat. His body stiffened. He turned to face the Bloodfang leader fully, his hands clenched into fists. "Is that true?" Volk's voice was a low growl.

The Bloodfang leader nodded gravely.

"It is. The last time this happened, we barely survived. The Warlocks and the Dark Elves—especially the witches—don't just come alone. They have armies. Armies filled with their slaves like us Hornless Orcs and magic-wielding creatures.

"Magic artifacts that can decimate our strongest warriors. They come in numbers that would make even the largest orc clans seem like a mere handful. They're relentless, and they always want more land. More control. Once they set their eyes on us, we either flee, or we die."

The Dreadmaw orcs were speechless. The Bloodfang leader continued, his voice now filled with urgency.

"Do you understand? That warlock you killed? They would sense his or her death and would absolutely send reinforcements because they would think he or she was killed by a Dark Elven Witch, even if there was no presence of an Elven Witch.

"After all, for them, it's impossible for us Orcs to defeat them. So, reinforcements would come from a much larger force. And if they're nearby, they're coming for us—for all the clans."

Volk's eyes widened slightly as he processed the information.

A signal?

The Warlock they had fought was incredibly powerful.

He had nearly killed them. And now, the Bloodfang leader was telling him there could be more—many more—coming for them? He turned to look at the rest of his clan.

They, too, wore expressions of shock and disbelief.

One of the orcs from the Ironhide Clan stepped forward.

He seemed to know what Volk was thinking. "Even if you didn't kill it, they would sense him alone. In their Warlock community, no Warlock is to go out alone, and being alone means they could be enslaved or captured by the Dark Elven Witch.

"We need to leave. Now. If we don't get out of here and warn the other clans, we'll be wiped out before we even know what hit us."

Volk felt the weight of the situation bearing down on him. He glanced back at Grashk, who nodded in agreement.

The other Dreadmaw orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their bodies tense with the sudden understanding of the danger they were in.

"Volk," the Bloodfang leader called, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "The Warlock you killed… was he strong?"

Volk gave a curt nod. "He was."

A ripple of dread passed through the gathered orcs.

The Bloodfang leader's eyes darkened. "Then you know. If he was strong, the rest will be stronger. And there will be many more of them. Along with their slaves like the Hornless Orcs that was taken from other clans, and their armies… all of them will descend upon us. The numbers they command would dwarf us.

Every orc clan combined wouldn't even make up one percent of their forces."

The sheer scale of what the Bloodfang leader described was almost incomprehensible.

The Dreadmaw orcs could hardly fathom an enemy that vast, that powerful.

Even Volk, who had faced countless battles, felt a chill crawl up his spine.

This wasn't a war they could win. This wasn't even a war they could survive.

For a long moment, the cavern was filled with heavy, suffocating silence. The weight of the situation pressed down on every orc, their collective breaths held in anticipation.

Finally, Volk broke the silence. His voice was cold and firm, slicing through the tension like a blade. "What are we waiting for?"

He turned to face his clan, his eyes burning with urgency and determination. "Let's get out of here!"

Without another word, the Dreadmaw Clan gathered their crystals and began moving swiftly.

The Bloodfang and Ironhide orcs didn't hesitate.

They knew what was at stake now, and they weren't going to waste another second.

They had to leave, and they had to leave now.

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