《Strongest Radioactive System》 Chapter 1: Strange World A person lay unconscious on the damp forest floor. And a faint occasional rustle of leaves above was the only sound that broke through the still silence. Suddenly, a voice pierced through the silent stillness. "Are you dead? Hmmm¡­ He''s still breathing¡­ Brother? I know you can wake up now¡­" The voice was insistent, with its growing louder with each call. Slowly, the person''s eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was the canopy of ancient trees above, with their leaves filtering the sunlight into dappled patterns on the ground. Immediately, he shifted his gaze, and his heart skipped a beat. Three towering figures stood over him. They were orc-like creatures with green, leathery skin and sharp ears that tapered into points. And their large fangs protruded from their lower jaws, giving them more fearsome appearance. One of them, the tallest and broadest of the trio, noticed Volk''s awakening. "Lok''tar Ogar!" he shouted, with his loud voice echoing through the trees. The person even felt a massive vibration spread through his entire being. Immediately, the other two orcs joined in the chant. "Lok''tar Ogar! Lok''tar Ogar!" The first orc, evidently acting their leader, stepped closer and bent down. "He''s fine, we can leave him here," he announced. "Let''s go further and hunt more earth moles to win the witch''s favor and get ourselves a wife!" "Lok''tar Ogar! Let''s go get ourselves a wife!" one of the orcs echoed, he was even pumping his fist in the air. "Lok''tar Ogar! Let''s hunt these Earth moles to get our maidens!!" the other joined in. The leader nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, the Poisonous Earth Moles were just released. There should be enough time for us to get more earth moles and find ourselves better wives. Those Poisonous Earth Moles shouldn''t have reached this area yet, because if they had, the brother over there should have been torn to pieces already." With that, the three orcs turned and trotted off into the forest, with their voices fading into the distance. However, the person still lay there for a moment, with his mind racing. What had just happened? His last clear memory was being in the street, using his wheelchair. Then, he was seized and taken to a strange place. People in familiar long gown like doctor uniforms had surrounded him, as if holding syringes and other torture tools. Immediately, the memory of the excruciating pain as something was injected into his body made him groan. "Urrghhh!!" Volk recalled one of them saying, "Too much radiation input, the experiment subject wouldn''t make it, we need more¡­" That was the last thing he remembered. Now, he''s here. Not long, his head throbbed with pain, but he forced himself to move. He attempted to stand, but his legs buckled beneath him. Volk fell, thud! Fortunately, his arm caught him just before his face slammed into the grassy ground. As he steadied himself, he noticed a small pool of water nearby. Crawling towards it, he peered into its clear surface. Staring back at him was a reflection that was both familiar and alien. His face was now similar to the three he had just seen. Long, pointed ears jutted out from his head, and his skin was a deep, mottled green. His eyes, though, were still his own, filled with the same determination and fire. "What is this?" he muttered, trying to comprehend his transformation. Suddenly, memories that were not his own flooded Volk''s mind. He saw a world ruled by Red Elves, Warlocks, and Dark Elves, Witches, locked in an endless war. He understood that he was now a young Hornless Orc, subservient to the Elven Rejects or Elven Witches, who were hated by other Elven races, because they were believed to be incapable of siring offspring with other Elven races, which was seen as a curse and a bad omen for the entire Elven kind. However, both rulers of war had an interest in the Elven Witches and the horde of Hornless Orcs. The Dark Witches wanted Elven Witches as material to extend their lives and the horde of Hornless Orcs as their physical slaves, while the Red Elven Warlocks desired the Elven Witches for their mana control and the horde of Hornless Orcs for their transformation abilities. Due to desperation to escape from the clutches of both realm rulers, the group of hornless orcs that came from nowhere who have no home, and a rejected elven race that cannot repopulate and discriminated by their own people, decided to come together to survive and discovered they could repopulate each other. If a male was born, they would turn into a hornless orc, and if a female was born, they would turn into a forest elf. Not just that, the horde of the hornless orcs who were not sensitive to Mana would become sensitive to Mana once they form a bond to these Elven Witches, and they could get strengthened too because of them. As long as they help the Elven Witches to improve their ranks as Mana manipulators, they would get stronger too. Volk clenched his fists. "No! No! No! No! I don''t want to be reincarnated! I don''t want to be reincarnated! I don''t want to be reincarnated!" But then, after being convinced for a very long time that he had been reincarnated here, he managed to clear his head. "Do I really hate being reincarnated?" he mumbled. The person looked at his hands - they were normal, not overly muscular, and no longer resembling a stick. Although they appeared green, it was fine. His feet were okay, and he could walk using them, unlike when he was on Earth. "Hahahaha! I am reincarnated!?" He laughed out loud, an energy of madness came to him knowing the fact that he had reincarnated, where other reincarnators in the novels he read were worried, but he isn''t! On Earth, he was often assisted, and although he was grateful, he was tired of it all and would often leave or hide sometimes just so he could be alone! Now that he''s dead, at least he won''t be a burden! He hoped that they had moved on, but now, what''s important is that he''s here! He''s not a disabled person anymore! Then, Volk remembered something important from the tribe ritual ceremony of the tribe of Orcs memory - that as if he was overcome with emotion and despair, it would be too late! He would experience something that he experienced in his past life. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "So right now, I need to hunt as many earth moles as I can. Success in these hunts would earn me a Forest Elf wife, who could help me rise in rank as a warrior. And depending on how many hunts I make, would make me a more talented partner that could help me rank up as a warrior faster than others! "I am sure, since I have read some novels, that I know I am an Orc. Since I am an Orc, this should be a magical world. A magical world means there are spells, and regarding those spells, I am sure I can definitely find something here that can make me stronger!!" Soon, his head finally clear, Volk pushed himself to his feet. The dizziness had subsided, and a fierce resolve had taken its place. He needed to find his way in this situation before he could think of what he should do in this world. Just as he began to orient himself, a sudden noise caught his attention. He froze, and then he turned his head. "Huh?" Volk barely had time to react before he saw the trio of orcs he had encountered earlier, they were now sprinting back toward his direction in a frenzy state. And their faces were contorted with fear, and he could hear their voices rang out in a cacophony of panic. "You idiot! We should have let the orc warriors handle these poisonous earth moles!" one of them shouted, Volk could see his eyes were wide in terror. "We''re fools! Now we''re running for our lives!" another yelled back, his eyes seemed to lose their hope and his breath was ragged. "We''re lucky to be alive! Why did we think we could handle this and come back here!?" the third added. As they approached Volk, the leader thrust a crude knife into his hand. The knife had a bone handle wrapped in animal hide, like its blade rough-hewn and stained with use. "Here, protect yourself," he panted. "They are coming!" Volk took the knife, his grip immediately tightened around the handle. He looked around at the forest, trying to get his bearings. The trees were ancient, and he could see their thick trunks covered in moss. Sunlight barely pierced the dense canopy above, as if casting eerie shadows on the forest floor but he still couldn''t see the danger they were looking out for. "Prepare to engage in combat!" the leader barked, trying to steady his voice despite the fear in his eyes. "And avoid their bite¡ªthey are venomous! Lok''tar Ogar! Fight or die!" In that split second after the warning, Volk felt the ground rumble beneath his feet. Rumble! Rumble! Rumble! He glanced at the forest floor, with his heart unconsciously pounding from the fear of the unknown. Suddenly, ten spots around them erupted, and massive black mole creatures burst from the earth. These creatures were hideous to look at as their bodies were covered in coarse black fur. Their eyes were small and beady, glowing with a malevolent red light. However, the most terrifying thing about them is that they had enormous claws, perfect for burrowing, and their jaws were lined with sharp purple color, like they are an obvious sign of their venomous nature. Volk steeled himself, his mind was trying to think of actions he must do. He readied his weapon, prepared to fight for his life. But as soon as the creatures landed on them, the creatures moved with frightening speed. One of the moles lunged at Volk, with its claws locking around him with a vice-like grip. And he felt a sharp pain as the creature bit into his neck, like its venom already searing through his veins like fire. His mind tried to fight back, but his body refused to move. The venom paralyzed his body completely, leaving him helpless. Soon, a thought entered his head, ''Is this it? Am I going to die here? If there''s gonna be a savior in this situation. If there''s no one, what will happen? Clearly, this is venom. Maybe the orcs have some kind of resistance to it, right?'' He tried to glance at the other orcs. But they were in the same state as him, with their eyes slowly losing the spark of life. Panic began to spread through Volk''s entire body as he realized there''s no such thing as orc resistance to venom. "No! No! No! I cannot die here! Just when I got a new body, I cannot die here!" he screamed, with a sound filled with frustration, and fear. He screamed and screamed and screamed but his screams seemed to even draw more attention from the other earth moles. In a split second, they all lunged at him alone and ignored the other three, until their furry bodies covered him completely. Inside, as soon as his vision slowly darkened, Volk felt their hot breath against his skin, their weight pressing down on him. His eyelids started to feel heavy, but then something extraordinary happened. His brown eyes began to glow green. Outside, the mountain of mole exploded. And the venomous earth moles were blasted away from each other, with their forms hurtling in all directions. The three orcs were not spared and were also thrown back, landing hard in different directions of the forest floor. In the center of the explosion, a massive and wide titan emerged, transformed. It was a bit similar to the orcs earlier but this body had grown to an immense size, his muscles bulging. His stomach and every limb were now four times the size of a normal Hornless Orc. His skin seemed like a vibrant green, and his eyes glowed with an intense, otherworldly light. His face, though still recognizable and somewhat familiar, was more terrifying and filled with muscles. The titan looked around in anger with a growl, ''Grrrrrr'', like his voice in this new form was radiating some kind of destructive power. Immediately, without a warning, he let out a thunderous roar, "ROOOARRRR!!!" Chapter 2: Radioactive System Awakening The titan was Volk. He couldn''t believe the thunderous roar that had just erupted from his own mouth was his own and came from him. The sheer power of its shockwave alone left him stunned. At the same time, he felt an incredible surge of energy, but there was also an overwhelming fury boiling inside him. It was as if Volk''s anger was like a wildfire, consuming him entirely. He felt an irrational, overwhelming rage towards everything around him, like even the sound of the insects around him makes him irritated. He could feel his breath come in short, furious bursts, along with his chest heaving. Volk could see the earth moles, those venomous creatures, were scurrying back to their hiding spots, and he calmed down a little. "Huh?" For some reason, his view of them changed; they looked like rats, but earlier he was sure they the size of cows. It was baffling. "Why do I feel different?" Volk muttered to himself. Suddenly, a system screen appeared before his eyes, displaying a message: | Ding! | You have awakened the Invincible and Strongest Radioactive System! | A life-saving system that activates at the brink of death or when the host is in full-fledged rage! | Volk''s head immediately went numb. He finally understood what was happening. A radioactive system? What did that even mean? His began to recall something that was in his past life, recalling a green, massive creature from superhero movies that transformed when it got angry. "Am I like that?" Volk asked himself, feeling incredibly bewildered. Cutting off his stupor, another message appeared on the system screen: | Ding! | Invincible Radioactive Mode! | Status: On. | Duration: One minute and fifty-four seconds! | Volk paused, staring at the time limit. "What?! How come it''s limited!?!" But then he shrugged off the worry. "Doesn''t matter. I am invincible in this state." He laughed internally but externally, his body moved with raw, monstrous power, as if his movements caused the air around his muscles to be sucked to his muscular aura. Unconsciously, he roared again, sending shockwaves that echoed through the whole forest. "ROOAAARRRR!!!" As he roared, something landed on him with a hiss. "Psssh!" His massive body felt a little scratchy but annoying sensation where it had landed. He looked down at his chest, then turned to see where it came from. Each movement, each action, seems to make the wind explode in an unseen destruction. "Grraargh," he growled, scanning his surroundings. Suddenly, he spotted the venomous earth moles. "YOU LITTLE SPOUTIES MAKING VOLK ANGRY!" he bellowed, as if the words were spilling out unconsciously. But at the same time, in his head, he meant every word, and along with his anger boiling over. He didn''t know why he talked like that, it felt so good and natural, like he didn''t care about anything but his rage! Again, he was hit by more of the mole rats'' spits, ''Pak!'', ''Pak!'' ,''Pak!'' each impact making him flinch and growl. "Grrr... rrrgghh!" Making his rage intensified with every hit. He felt small hot venom burning into his skin, that led to fueling his fury even more. "Graaagh! Arrrghh!" He glared at the earth moles peeking from their underground hideouts, the ones likely spitting on him. "VOLK WILL KILL ALL YOU LITTLE SPOUTIES!!" he roared, with his voice a thunder clapping of pure rage. Volk charged at the creatures, but they were too quick, diving back into their holes before he could catch them. His frustration mounted as he repeatedly slammed into the ground, making his massive form cause the earth to tremble. He began to think of digging them up, but he had better ideas. "Grrraaa... rrrggghhh!" he growled each time he missed. "VOOOOLLLlKK!!!" Volk raised his massive arms, ignoring the spits that made him flinch with each hit. And immediately, he brought his fists down with a force that shook the ground. "SMAAAAAAAAAASSSHHHHHH!!!!!!!" he roared. His fists slammed into the ground, creating a dent and sending cracks spreading through the forest floor. The earth trembled under the sheer force of his blow along with the wind explosion and a shockwave that instantly spread to the ground and the forest, and then it became silent again. Not long, one by one, the venomous earth moles began to surface, but with their bodies convulsing before they fell still. "Kaaahh!!" Is the sound they would make once the life out of their bodies slowly disappears. Volk stood there, breathing heavily, his body trembling with residual anger and adrenaline. The ground around him was a mess of cracks and upheaved soil. The forest was silent, save for the sound of his heavy breathing. Suddenly, another system screen would appear. | Ding! | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster and bigger. | Time Deduction: Thirty-seconds. | Current time duration: One minute and two seconds. | Volk was taken aback, the angrier he got, the stronger he became. But the duration of that form would get shorter. What if he got even angrier to the point he strengthened himself a lot? Isn''t that the same thing as being a radioactive titan for a few seconds? He looked around, taking in the sight of the dead earth moles. He still felt incredulous. His rage had given him the strength to destroy them. As the dust settled, Volk knew that his journey in this new world was just beginning. He had awakened something powerful within him, and he would need to learn to control it. But for now, he relished in the power and the victory. The earth moles were defeated, and he was still standing. That was enough for now. As long as he collects their bodies, he will have a wife on the orc tribe now. But then, as he was basking in his thoughts. Pak! A wet sticky object landed on Volk''s forehead, making him stumble a little and feel a sting of pain that came from it. It didn''t hurt him for real, but it annoyed him and made feel he wanted to crush someone whoever did it to him. He looked around angrily, growling, and saw a skinless, venomous earth mole. It was partially underground, staring at him in the shadows. It hadn''t died! Volk''s growl grew louder, his anger rising. "Grrrrr!! DON''T MAKE VOLK ANGRY, skinless SPOUTY!!!" But before he could move, pak! The skinless venomous earth mole spit on his face again. With a groan, Volk wiped the stinging spit off his face, feeling the burn. Immediately his expression turned even more sour. "ROOOAAARRR!!" Volk roared, with his quaking voice that shook the trees. The creature, sensing his aggression, hid further underground. This made Volk even madder. With an aggressive jump, his hulking body dove to its hiding spot and began digging furiously. Crack! Crack! The ground splintered open under Volk''s powerful hands. He dug so fast that the forest floor rumbled, creating small hills full of cracks. Each movement made the ground quake and groan. The skinless venomous earth mole shrieked in panic below, frantically running through the tunnels. Volk''s anger grew with each escape attempt the mole made. "Grrrrr... rrrrggghh!" he growled, feeling the creature slipping away from him. He dug deeper and faster, his powerful hands tearing through the earth. The forest floor continued to crack and rumble, the disturbance growing larger and longer. "Roooarrr... grrragh!" he bellowed, the sound echoing through the tunnels. He could hear the mole''s shrieks getting louder, indicating he was getting closer. The creature faced tunnel after tunnel, each time shrieking in panic. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Graaargh!" Volk''s growl echoed through the ground as he finally caught up to the skinless venomous earth mole. With a powerful lunge, he grabbed its neck and squeezed it. He didn''t even feel a resistance and the mole''s body went limp instantly. Volk''s breathing was heavy with heat, as his body was still trembling with rage. He felt nothing else besides the lifeless body of the mole in his grip. "Grrrrr," he growled, unsatisfied with the chase''s end. Not wasting his time on this dump underground, he emerged from the ground with a massive jump, breaking through the earth with a boom! Boom! Volk landed on a massive stone hill, the impact sending rocks and debris flying. He stood tall, his chest heaving, and roared once more, "ROOOAAAAARRRRRRR!!!!" The sound reverberated through the forest, a declaration of his power and rage. "VOLLLKKK IS STROOOOOOOOOONNNNGGGG!!!" He couldn''t believe it, in this life, he didn''t just have a normal body, it was incredibly strong too! Not far from there, a shadowy figure of an orc with a weapon looked up at the sky in the direction of the roar. The sound was unmistakable, a sign that something immense and powerful was nearby. The orc squinted, gripping its weapon tightly, and started moving towards the source of the roar, ready to face whatever had caused such a mighty sound. Chapter 3: Stolen Battle Spoil Luk''Tar was in a bad mood. The creatures released this time were Earth Moles, notorious for being elusive to strong warriors like him. These moles only hunted creatures weaker than themselves, making them difficult to catch. He clenched his fists in frustration. "I need to find and capture a lot, or at least get the skinless venomous earth mole to surely win this competition," he muttered. In this competition, Luk''Tar wasn''t just competing with his strength. That was his first problem. The challenge was designed to test not just strength but also their strategic thinking. So, the Earth Moles gave even the weaker warriors a chance to outshine him. "The challenge was not to be the strongest one, but to be the wisest leader. As the moles are the ones being sent, it means we have to show them who among us has the greatest strategic thinking to take that position," Luk''Tar mumbled to himself. Suddenly, he heard a roar. "ROOOAAARRR!!" The roar echoed through the forest, and it was unlike any he had heard before. It was deeper, more resonant than the typical orc roars. Luk''Tar gripped his weapon tightly and moved towards the source of the sound. When he reached his destination, Luk''Tar saw a massive, muscular green figure afar with no weapon. "Hmm¡­ a Labor Orc that awakened Grum-gar?" he mumbled, then he smiled in amusement. "Interesting." Labor Orcs in their tribe were typically builders. They didn''t possess Mana and were relegated to construction and manual labor. Only by awakening their Grum-gar form could they become Warrior Orcs. This transformation made them five times stronger, three times larger, and granted them natural healing capabilities. "It seems another warrior was born from Labor Orc ranks," Luk''Tar mumbled. Though rare, it wasn''t impossible for Labor Orcs to awaken their Grum-gar form in life-and-death situations. He had seen it happen three or four times before in each awakening. Suddenly, Luk''Tar noticed something on the Labor Grum-gar''s body. "Skinless venomous earth mole?!" he exclaimed, he couldn''t help but had his eyes widening in shock. He took a step back to this incredulous scene, and his face was beyond contorted in disbelief. "How did he get that?" The skinless venomous earth moles were prized in this event. Their elusive nature made them incredibly difficult to capture. Although they are weak, they could dig tunnels quickly, their venom was potent enough to kill any warriors among them in this blood rite event, and their skinless bodies made them even more slippery and hard to grasp making it even more harder to capture them. These creatures were the ultimate test for the warriors, an ultimate symbol of their skill and cunningness when captured by them. Seeing the Labor Grum-gar slowly transforming back to his normal Hornless Orc form, Luk''Tar thought about what he should do. It would be disrespectful as a warrior to take the mole from him. Although not forbidden, it was a shameful action that would tarnish his honor. But then, Luk''Tar remembered Solluha''r. Solluha''r was his childhood friend. They had grown up together, sharing dreams and promises. They had sworn to marry each other. Solluha''r was beautiful and fierce, and Luk''Tar loved her deeply. But she had been chosen to become one of the wives'' trophies in this competition because of her talent. That''s why he joined even though he wasn''t confident he could win her over others as some families were more powerful and cunning than him. However, he couldn''t help but recall their moments together vividly. They had played in the fields, trained side by side, and shared secrets. Solluha''r had a smile that could light up the darkest days and a laugh that was music to his ears. Her determination and strength matched his, and together, they were invincible. Luk''Tar''s heart ached at the thought of losing her to another. He clenched his fists, with his mind trying to think of what he should do. If he took the skinless venomous earth mole from this newly transformed Labor Orc, he would surely have her in his arms. The thought was tempting, the prospect of finally being with Solluha''r overwhelming. But was it worth sacrificing his honor? He struggled with the decision. His warrior''s pride battled with his love for Solluha''r. The shame of taking the mole from someone who had earned it would haunt him, but the thought of Solluha''r marrying someone else was unbearable. Soon enough, his thoughts began to churned like an acid that it hurt his chest, making his heart pound heavier than usual. The internal conflict he was feeling was fierce. He remembered Solluha''r''s eyes, the way they sparkled with determination and warmth. He remembered their promise, their dreams of a future together. Suddenly, his body moved almost on its own, as if driven by the desperation to fulfill his promise to Solluha''r. He stepped towards the direction of the Hornless Orc, with the skinless venomous earth mole still clutched in the orc''s hand. "Forgive me," he whispered with barely audible sound. The heaviness of what he was about to do was pressing down on his shoulders, but the thought of losing Solluha''r somehow gave him the strength to move forward to go get what he wants. ¡­ On the other hand, Volk was oblivious to the fact that someone was watching him. Once he finished roaring with all his might, he saw a system screen appear before him: | Ding! | Duration: Zero. | The host will now turn back to being normal, or if the host wishes, the host could stay a rampaging mindless beast. | Volk swallowed hard. He immediately wished to return to his normal state. Slowly, his body began to transform from the muscular titan to his lean, normal lean muscled Orc form. Before this, his massive arms shrank, the bulging muscles receding. His chest, broad and powerful, slimmed down, each rib and sinew realigning. His legs, tree-trunk thick, diminished, becoming the sturdy limbs of his normal self. Finally, his feet, which had been like those of a giant, returned to their usual size. Once back to normal, Volk felt his whole body drenched in sweat and was still trembling slightly from exertion. He took a good look to the skinless creature in his hand. "With this, I would be crowned as a champion and get the best and most talented elf, and then I will be able to gain magic faster!" After that he laughed heartily, "Hahahah! I can finally become strong!" Suddenly, he sensed something and turned just in time to see a crude shield approaching him. The shield was battered and rough, made from scraps of metal and wood. Clang! The shield slammed into his head, sending him hurling in a not so far away distance. Immediately, he crashed into a nearby tree with a thud. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. With difficulty, Volk looked back in the direction the shield had come from. He saw a hornless Orc similar to himself and the three from earlier, but this one was heavily armored. The armor was pieced together from various sources, creating a patchwork of steel plates and leather straps. Volk could see the Orc''s eyes were cold and calculating. The armored Orc spoke, his voice deep and commanding. "My name is Luk''Tar Durghan, son of Lak''Ran Durghan. Tomorrow, you can challenge me and take this creature back, but I suggest you don''t, because you won''t be my match. You are not the only one who awakened the Grum-gar form, because I, too, have awakened it and I am far better than you, Labor Orc!" Volk struggled to rise, his vision felt along with his head swimming. Luk''Tar turned around and ignored him, dragging the skinless venomous earth mole that Volk had hunted. The creature''s lifeless body scraped against the ground, leaving only a trail in the dirt. Soon, Volk''s head throbbed. He watched Luk''Tar disappear into the forest, dragging away his prize. The pain in his head intensified, and his vision began to blur. The edges of his sight darkened, creeping inwards until all he saw was black. His body also gave in to exhaustion, and he slumped against the tree, unconscious. The forest around him was silent, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. The sky above darkened as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the land. Volk lay still, with his breathing shallow and labored. As the night deepened, the forest came alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. Owls hooted, their calls echoing through the trees. Crickets chirped in a steady rhythm, a symphony of nature. Volk''s mind was a haze of pain and confusion, but even in his unconscious state, he felt the deep sting of loss and humiliation. Hours passed, and the forest slowly quieted. Slowly, the moon rose high, casting a pale light over Volk''s still form. Gradually, his breathing steadied, and his body began to heal. The natural resilience of the Orcs worked to mend his injuries, though the mental and emotional wounds would take longer to heal. In his dreams, Volk saw flashes of his past life, the experiments that had brought him here, and the faces of the doctors who had tortured him. He relieved the pain and fear, his body writhing as the memories played out. But through the nightmare, a new determination began to form. When dawn finally broke, the first rays of sunlight touched Volk''s face, stirring him from his restless sleep. He groaned. Slowly, he opened his eyes, the world coming back into focus. Immediately, he stood up and opened his eyes, and with a maniacal rage, he screamed at the top of lungs! "You son of a biiiiiiiiiiiittttttcchhhhhhh!!!!" Chapter 4: Running out of time In the forest, Volk ran with all his might, with both of his feet pounding against the earth in a steady, relentless, loud and heavy rhythm. The trees around him were tall and ancient, and each of their thick trunks covered in moss and creeping vines. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, they were casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Volk ignored the air that was filled with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves, creating a symphony of nature that seemed at odds with Volk''s frantic pace. His face was set in a mask of anger. After being knocked unconscious by the armored Orc, Luk''Tar, Volk had been forced to stay the entire night in the forest. Now it was morning, and he was late for the awarding ceremony, the GharKhalmon. Being late wasn''t just an inconvenience; it was a potential disaster. If he missed the ceremony, he would remain a Labor Hornless Orc forever. The significance of this event depends on Volk''s feet. The GharKhalmon was not just a ceremony; it was a crucial opportunity for the Hornless Orcs to prove themselves and gain the chance to strengthen their tribe. Without this opportunity, Volk would be condemned to a life of labor and servitude. He would be unable to rank up or gain the power necessary to protect himself in this dangerous magical world. Most of all, he would feel the same as he was when he was on Earth! Limited! The trees seemed to blur as he sped past them, his mind racing as fast as his feet. The stakes were so high that he needed to reach the place. In this world ruled by powerful Elven Warlocks and Dark Witches, the Hornless Orcs were vulnerable. They had found a precarious foothold thanks to a symbiotic relationship with the Elven Witches, but without the chance to prove himself, Volk would be stuck at the bottom of this fragile hierarchy. "Thump! Thump! Thump!" The sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of forest creatures. His muscles burned with the effort, but he pushed on, driven by a mix of desperation and rage. The history of the Hornless Orcs flashed through his mind. They had come from an unknown realm, lost and helpless in this magical world. Their salvation had come through a desperate witch who had partnered with one of them. This partnership had allowed the Orcs to find a new home and a means to strengthen themselves. By bonding with the Elven, the Orcs could gain power and provide resources in return. It was a symbiotic relationship that had allowed them to survive. Remembering that without an Elven Witch partner, he would be relegated to the role of a laborer, a builder, and a slave, just to survive. The thought of such a fate filled him with a burning rage. "I will not be a laborer!" he growled to himself, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. "YOU DAMN ORRCCC!!" he shouted into the forest. Suddenly, a system screen appeared before him, startling him. | Ding! | Would you like to enter your Radioactive Form? | Note: | Radioactive Form would automatically revolve every twenty-four hours. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. | After using this form, the host would be vulnerable for the time being and could perish. | Volk''s anger flared anew at the sight of the message. He was still furious, but he stared at the screen for a long moment, weighing his options. The radioactive form had saved him before, but it came with significant risks too. As he continued running, he shook his head. "Not now," he muttered. "I''ll save it for later!" His eyes gleamed with determination. His feet pounded against the forest floor, "thud, thud, thud," as he picked up speed. The forest seemed to blur around him, the trees and undergrowth rushing past in a haze of green and brown. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he pushed himself harder, with his legs pumping with violent vigor. "Swish, swish, swish," his clothes rustled with each powerful stride. The wind whipped against his face, cool and refreshing despite his heated anger. The morning sun cast long shadows, but Volk''s focus was unwavering. He had a goal, and nothing would stop him from reaching it. With each step, the sound of the forest grew louder, the "crunch" of leaves and twigs underfoot, the "chirp" of insects, and the "caw" of distant birds. But Volk''s mind was singularly focused. He would reach the GharKhalmon in time. He would prove himself. He would not be a laborer. His pace increased, each stride longer and faster than the last. The forest seemed to part before him, opening a path as if acknowledging his determination. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, pouring every ounce of strength into his run. The forest flew by, a blur of green and brown, the sounds of nature mixing with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Volk''s anger fueled him, driving him forward. "Thud, thud, thud," his feet hit the ground with relentless force. He would not be late. He would not fail. He would reach the GharKhalmon and take his place among the warrior Orcs. With a final burst of speed, Volk surged ahead, the forest a mere backdrop to his determined stride. ¡­ On the other side of the forest, the Tribe''s settlement stood tall and imposing. The heart of the Tribe was marked by several incredibly tall towers, their brick exteriors covered in intricate carvings that seemed to pulse with natural magic. The towers, resembling ancient trees, spiraled upwards, their tops adorned with enchanted fires that burned with a mystical intensity, casting a warm, otherworldly glow over the settlement. The towers looked like they were not just structures but living embodiments of the Elven Witches'' desire for connection to their Forest Elven origins that abandoned them. Below these majestic towers, groups of lean-muscled Hornless Orcs moved with purpose, accompanied by their Elven companions. The Elven races varied greatly, each displaying their unique heritage. Some had silver hair that shimmered like moonlight, others boasted deep auburn locks, while a few had golden tresses that seemed to capture the essence of the sun. Their eyes ranged from piercing blue to deep green and even a rare violet, each pair telling tales of ancient wisdom and magic. Their garments were as varied as their appearances, with some clad in flowing robes adorned with intricate patterns, while others wore armor that seemed both delicate and incredibly strong. Scattered around the base of the towers were numerous tents, each one a testament to the merging of Orc and Elves cultures. The tents were made of sturdy leather, reinforced with enchanted fabrics that provided protection and comfort. Some were simple and utilitarian, while others were adorned with colorful banners and charms that swayed gently in the breeze. In the center of the settlement, a massive bonfire crackled, with its flames dancing with a mystical life of their own, like it was casting flickering shadows across the ground and adding to the air of enchantment that permeated the area. Inside one of the larger tents, four figures sat in a tense silence. Luk''Tar Dhurgan, the Orc who had stolen Volk''s skinless venomous earth mole, wore a worried expression. His brow furrowed as he stared at the ground, seemingly lost in thought. He couldn''t shake the feeling of unease that came out of nowhere. The memory of his ambush keeps replaying in his mind, the look of the labor Orc he had challenged haunting him. Luk''Tar had believed it would be an easy victory; after all, the labor Orcs weren''t trained to fight. They were builders, not warriors. But something about that encounter felt off, something he couldn''t quite place. Suddenly, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, pulling him away from his reverie. He looked up to see a beautiful elf with striking green eyes and long green hair. Her small, pointy nose and delicate lips gave her an appearance of sharp elegance. "What''s wrong?" she asked, with her voice filled with much concern. Luk''Tar reached up to hold her hand, drawing some comfort from her presence. "Solluha''r," he began, but her gaze made him pause. He forced a smile and said, "I am fine." He touched her lips gently with his large finger and murmured, "Not yet, we are not one yet." Solluha''r''s breath was warm against his skin as she leaned in closer. "Don''t worry about everything so much," she whispered. "If it''s your strength, don''t feel inferior. Even if you''re not the strongest, you managed to get the sole skinless venomous earth mole. That''s no small feat. It means you have a mind for strategy, perfect for leadership. In the future, the tribe might rest in your decisions. Combat isn''t everything." Luk''Tar''s face briefly reflected his guilt before he masked it again. He knew Solluha''r''s words were meant to reassure him, but his actions of ambush were like a blade piercing through his conscience. Just then, the flap of the tent was pulled back, and a fierce looking Orc entered hurriedly. "Luk''Tar, you, and the chosen wives-" the orc would paused, "I mean wife... Should prepare. It''s almost time," he announced. Luk''Tar nodded, releasing Solluha''r''s hand. He stood up, straightening his posture and pushing his worries aside. "Thank you," he said to the Orc, his voice firm. He turned to Solluha''r, his eyes softening. "We''ll talk more later." Solluha''r nodded, giving him an encouraging smile. "We''ll get through this together, Luk''Tar, you can do it!" she said softly. As Luk''Tar stepped out of the tent, he saw the scene outside was bustling with activity. He is ready! Ready to receive Solluha''r completely! Ready to face his future! A future that he forcefully took from his fellow tribe member. Chapter 5: KORNUUM DRHAKAR!! Luk''Tar stood amidst the grandeur of the ceremony, with the towering brick structures of the Tribe casting long shadows in the morning light. The enchanted fires atop the towers flickered in his eyes, as if their glow were intensifying the magic that was blended with the wind. He could feel an eagerness amongst everyone, like a hum of energy that was flowing through all around the gathered Orcs and Elves. Suddenly, a woman''s voice rang out over the crowd and Lu''Tark''s ear, as if it were echoing through the towering structures. "Wrrraaak! Today, we honor the warriors who have returned victorious!" Her voice sounded very powerful, almost as though it were reverberating with the highest authority. "First, we have Uru''kar," she paused, waiting for the tension to build, and she felt it was enough, "who has slain six venomous earth moles!" The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers, resembling the sound echoing through the forest like a thunderclap. "Raaaargh!" they roared, their voices mingling in a powerful symphony of approval. "Next," the woman continued, her tone now building obvious suspense, "we have Bra''gorn," she paused again, "who has slain eight venomous earth moles!" The crowd''s response was even louder, a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very ground they were standing on. "Rooaaarrr!" Lu''Tark felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw a fellow Orc, with a plastered wide grin on his face. "How many partners do you wish to take?" he asked with his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. Lu''Tark glanced over to the tent where Solluha''r stood. Her green eyes met his, and they were now looking at each other, soon enough, her lips parted and formed a cheerful smile. "I only need one," he replied, his voice was incredibly firm when he said this. "And that is Solluha''r." Solluha''r stepped out of the tent, her presence couldn''t help but radiate an obvious grace and strength. She walked over to Lu''Tark, with her smile widening on her face as she took his hand. The hornless Orc who had spoken to him nodded, "Alright, follow me," and he led them toward the center of the ceremony. Suddenly, the announcer''s voice boomed again, capturing everyone''s attention including Lu''Tark and Solluha''r. "Wrrrrraaak! Now, we come to the most extraordinary achievement. The slayer of the skinless venomous earth mole!" The crowd''s tone shifted, one could hear an undercurrent of excitement and awe threading through their voices as they cheered. "Champion!" "Champion!" "Champion!" "Champion!" "Champion!" "Champion!" "To kill a skinless, venomous earth mole," the announcer continued slowly, as if savoring each word, "is a feat of unimaginable skill and bravery. These creatures are far more elusive and deadly than their venomous counterparts, and their skinless bodies make them tougher and more resistant to attacks, making them harder to catch. To face one, corner it, and emerge victorious is to be among the greatest of our warriors!" As the announcer finished, the crowd''s anticipation reached a fever pitch, their voices rising in a wave of thrumming sound. "Roooooaaaaaaarrr!" they chanted. Lu''Tark, watching and hearing all this beside Solluha''r, couldn''t help but feel an incredible amount of gratitude. However, guilt slowly built up in his head, and to avoid this, he shook his head and forced himself to step forward, immediately silencing the crowd. The announcer''s voice rang out again, "Luk''Tar Durghan! Our champion of this year! The earth mole king catcher!" His name seemed to reverberate through the assembly of the crowd. "And he has chosen only one companion, the ever beautiful Solluha''r!" When all was declared, the tribe erupted in cheers once more, and the sound of their cheer was so powerful, almost reaching the sky as a testament to their approval. "Raaaargh! Raaaargh!" Luk''Tark smiled and waved his hands. The cheers that were supposed to make him feel even more proud of whatever he had done was making even more guilty, but he swallowed his saliva and his pride. The announcer''s voice continued, "Despite having the right to choose two more wives, he has chosen only one! What a faithful warrior! What a faithful future leader! And now, to let this ceremony be completed, let the two become one!" Luk''Tark and Solluha''r faced each other, with their movements slow and deliberate, as if they wanted to enjoy every moment. Both of them eventually reached out, with their hands gently cupping each other''s faces. Their eyes were locked, as if there was a silent communication passing between them as one already. And as they held each other, a phenomenon began to unfold. Leaves began to rustle around them. It was as though the air was caught in a mystical wind that circled their bodies. Flames danced in the air, making both their bodies feel warmth from each other''s presence alone, wrapping around the two of them as one. The ground beneath them seemed to hum with friendly energy, resonating with the magical moment. Their chests began to glow, with a soft light emanating from within. Lu''Tark and Solluha''r nodded at each other, their eyes meeting. Finally, they were going to become one - the moment they had been waiting for ever since they were children. "I never thought this moment would come," Solluha''r softly said, making Lu''Tark guilty, but he only smiled on the surface to hide it. "I will do anything for you," he whispered back. Just as the ceremony reached its crescendo, a voice suddenly cut through the phenomenon like a knife. "Thief!! Ambusher!! You have no honor!!" The cry was filled with nothing but anger. "That damned bastard stole my skinless venomous earth mole! I came here to challenge him to a duel!" The words were like thunder rumbles, a stark opposite to the harmony of the ceremony. "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!! KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" Everyone froze, the entire assembly falling into an exaggerated pause. All eyes turned to the source of the interruption. It was an unknown Labor Orc; they could see his face twisted in indescribable rage and determination. He stood at the edge of the gathering, with his chest heaving in an exaggerated manner as if he ran for a thousand miles as he caught his breath. "Wrrraaaakkk!" he screamed again. "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" The words "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" rang through the clearing like a battle cry, it reverberating off the towering stone structures while shaking the leaves on the trees that were scattered to the whole place beside the towers. In the horde of Hornless Orcs and Elven Witches, this was the word that sealed destinies. It meant a challenge, a duel to settle disputes in the only way Orcs knew¡ªthrough raw, primal combat. The Tribe had used it for centuries to resolve conflicts, to prove one''s strength, or to claim what was rightfully theirs. The rules were simple: the stronger Orc won, and the loser had to accept the consequences, whether it was death, dishonor, or exile. In the past, it was called Mak''Gorah, but an unknown spell prevented them from using the word Mak''Gorah, probably due to the origin of the hornless Orc tribe. So, they created a version of themselves called KORNUUM DRHAKAR! Volk stood at the edge of the assembly, with his muscles tense, and his breath ragged with fury. The scene before him was a mockery, like a cruel twist of fate. The crowd''s roars of approval for Luk''Tar, the warrior who had stolen his prize, filled him with a burning rage. How dare they celebrate him? How dare they cheer for the thief while he, Volk, had been left for dead? If it wasn''t for him being powered by radiation, he would have been left and wouldn''t have received a wife! In this one in a lifetime chance, he would''ve missed it! He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, his vision narrowing to a tunnel of anger that focused solely on Luk''Tar''s smug face. You will pay for it! You will pay for it! He clenched his fists hard, and he didn''t care if his nails were digging into his palms as he tried to rein in his temper. But it was no use. The anger he could feel in his chest boiled over like a hot breath, spilling out of him in a guttural roar. "Uraaaa!!! KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" The words erupted from his throat with a force that seemed to shake the very ground beneath him. "Accept my challenge, you coward!!!" he bellowed, his voice thick with rage and desperation. "Accept my challenge, scum! Thief!!!" Hearing this, the crowd fell silent, their previous cheers fading into a shocked murmur. They looked at Volk, with their eyes wide with disbelief. A Labor Orc? Issuing a challenge? It was unheard of. Labor Orcs were not warriors; they were the backbone of the Tribe, the ones who built, who toiled, who did the work that others couldn''t¡ªor wouldn''t¡ªdo. They were strong, yes, but not in the ways that mattered in combat. They lacked the training, the skill, the bloodthirsty instinct that defined a true warrior. And yet, here was one, shouting for a duel as if he belonged among the elite. Volk could see the doubt in their eyes. He couldn''t help but sneer! They didn''t believe him. They thought him mad, delusional even. And why wouldn''t they? To them, a Labor Orc capturing a skinless venomous earth mole was as likely as a mouse taking down a lion. It was impossible. But Volk knew better. In the fragmented memories of the body he now occupied, he found a term¡ªGrum-gar form. It was similar to the radioactive transformation. He will use it! Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Soon, his body started cracking! It was slow, he immediately felt an agonizing process as his body twisted and morphed into something stronger, something more terrifying. His muscles began to bulge, straining against his skin as they grew larger. His bones cracked and reformed, expanding to support the massive frame he was becoming. The transformation crawled up his limbs, his arms thickening, his chest broadening. His veins pulsed with energy, glowing faintly as they pumped more green blood through his rapidly expanding body. Finally, the change reached his feet, his toes curling and elongating into powerful claws that dug into the earth beneath him. Volk could feel every inch of him radiated power, an unstoppable force that was only just beginning to show itself. The air around him seemed to vibrate, releasing small shockwaves unseen to the naked eyes, and the crowd watching were now stunned into silence as Volk completed his transformation. Then, with a final surge of energy, Volk threw his head back and let out a roar that split the sky. "ROOOOOOAAARRRRRRRR!!!" Volk roar wasn''t just challenging Luk''Tar anymore. He was challenging the entire Tribe, demanding that they see him not as a Labor Orc, but as a true warrior. Chapter 6: VOLK, THE STRONGEST OF THEM ALL Volk''s eyes narrowed as the system screen blinked before him. | Ding! | Mission: Get yourself a Nuclear Reactor Vessel! | Reward: Radioactive Ability in the normal orc form and in Gamma Radioactive form. | Failure: A minute of Radioactive form duration reduction. | Volk''s face twisted into a savage confusion. "What is a nuclear reactor vessel?" he mumbled. "Isn''t that a thing that contains nuclear energy? How am I supposed to find that?" However, he would just shake his head, his focus for now was to get a wife to establish a symbiotic relationship with at least one of the elves so he would become aware of Mana once he pair bonded with one. And for now, he had to deal with the current situation to get that bond with a random witch elf. But as the thought of his near-failure in his head was caused by Luk''Tar¡ªknowing that if he hadn''t arrived in time, he would have lost the chance to prove himself and complete the mission¡ªhis fury immediately reignited. He could almost feel the sting of loss, the bitterness of missing out on the reward he could use in the future in his normal form, where he didn''t need to go titan green, making him want to smash this hornless Orc into pieces. With a roar that shook the earth, Volk slammed his fist into the ground, sending a shockwave through the soil. "ROOOAAARRRR!!" he bellowed, his voice seemed to send shockwaves of solide wind through the clearing, causing some random small birds to take flight in panic. "VOLK WANTS TO SMASH THIEF! VOLK ISN''T LYING! VOLK NEVER LIES!" His roar was deafening, like a guttural scream of rage and frustration from the abyss of hatred. His muscles rippled under the strain of his transformation, his skin glowing faintly with the eerie green light of his radioactive form. The ground beneath him even cracked and splintered, it was though the earth was unable to withstand the force of his uncontrollable fury. Around him, the crowd began to murmur. At first, the whispers were doubtful, questioning how could a Labor Orc claim that he caught the skinless venomous earth mole, but as they watched Volk''s Grum-gar form continue to grow more and more imposing, their voices immediately shifted from disbelief to something more hesitant, and even almost fearful. "Did you see that? He''s in Grum-gar form, just like the warriors." "How could a Labor Orc do that? I thought only trained warriors could access it." "It''s not rare, some even transformed into their Grum-gar form, yesterday." "Maybe¡­ maybe he''s telling the truth about the mole. No ordinary Labor Orc could transform like that, only those who have warrior blood on them." Volk heard every word. His sharp ears picked up the conversations from all sides, feeding into his growing confidence. The crowd was beginning to doubt Luk''Tar, to believe in Volk''s strength, and that only fueled his rage further. He was no longer just a Labor Orc in their eyes. He was a force to be reckoned with, a true contender for the honor that Luk''Tar had stolen from him. On the other side of the clearing, Luk''Tar''s eyes widened in shock. ''Did he just transform at will?'' He hadn''t expected this. It was difficult to grasp the ability to transform into their Grum-gar form, as it often took months to access it, but this one... He had easily achieved it! However, Luk''Tar shook his head. This orc seemed overwhelmed by emotions, which may have been the reason he was able to transform this time. Luk''Tar would not feel fear. Not from a Labor Orc. But then, he paused. The thought that Volk could access the Grum-gar form fast enough was unsettling, but more than that, it was dangerous. If Volk could do this, then he could use the Tribe''s ancient magic to expose the truth, to reveal Luk''Tar''s lie. His honor, his reputation, everything he had built could crumble in an instant. Luk''Tar''s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to remain calm. He couldn''t let his fear show. Stepping forward, he met Volk''s furious gaze with a calm, calculated stare. "I don''t know who you are," he began, his voice steady and firm, "but you''re the one who betrayed me back then, together with the other Labor Orcs, and then tried to stab me in the back. You''re lucky I even spared you. And do you really think you''re the only one who can access Grum-gar form? I and the others can too." The words were like a declaration of acceptance, Solluha''r on the side couldn''t help but feel worried, "Luk''Tar," she whispered but the air around Luk''Tar already changed as he began his transformation. His body shuddered as it started to expand, muscles bulging grotesquely beneath his skin. His arms thickened, veins popping out as his hands turned into deadly claws. His chest heaved as it grew broader, his torso becoming a wall of muscle and sinew. Every inch of him pulsed with raw power, but unlike Volk, there was no eerie green glow in his eyes. He was a warrior through and through, honed and trained for battle. His transformation was slow, methodical, each movement deliberate and controlled. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Luk''Tar completed his transformation. His massive form towered over them, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing. Then, with a thunderous voice that shook the very ground, Luk''Tar bellowed, "I Accept!" "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!" His roar echoed through the forest, bouncing off the towering stone structures and amplifying in volume. "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!" The crowd gasped. This was unexpected. Luk''Tar could have denied the challenge. He was the winner of the event; he didn''t need to prove himself further. He could have dismissed Volk as a madman, a liar, and walked away with his prize. But he didn''t. "What is he thinking?" one Orc whispered. "He could just walk away, but he''s accepting the challenge?" another murmured. "He''s risking it all just to fight a Labor Orc?" Luk''Tar ignored the whispers, his eyes locked on Volk. He had to do this. He had to silence the nagging guilt that had plagued him ever since he stole the skinless venomous earth mole. The uncomfortable feeling that gnawed at his conscience, the sense that he had done something wrong, something dishonorable. Maybe, just maybe, if he defeated Volk in combat, that feeling would go away. Besides, he was confident in his abilities. He had trained for years in this form. Volk was just a Labor Orc who had only recently accessed his Grum-gar form. There was no way Volk could match him in combat. Volk, however, was unfazed by Luk''Tar''s transformation. His eyes blazed with fury, the green glow of his radioactive form burning brighter as his anger intensified. He could feel the power surging through his muscles as every single one of it tightened, the raw, unfiltered energy that threatened to devour him. But he didn''t care. All that mattered was taking down the Orc who had stolen from him, who had left him to die. With a primal growl, Volk lunged forward, his massive fists aimed directly at Luk''Tar. "VOLK HATES LYING THIEF!!" he roared, his voice a thunderous bellow that sent shockwaves through the crowd. Luk''Tar watched as Volk charged toward him with a furious intensity, his massive fists seemed so obvious that he would just swing them wildly. There was no strategy, no calculated moves¡ªjust raw, unbridled rage. Luk''Tar''s lips curled into a sneer. This was almost too easy. Volk was nothing more than a Labor Orc who had only recently discovered the Grum-gar form. Luk''Tar had been training for combat his entire life. With a calm breathing, Luk''Tar discarded his weapon, tossing it aside as if it were nothing. He didn''t need it. He was confident in his strength, confident in his fists. As Volk closed the distance between them, Luk''Tar swung his massive arm, and immediately, his fist connected with Volk''s head with a sickening THWACK! The impact was so forcefully violent that Volk''s body whipped backward, and with a powerful slam, Luk''Tar drove Volk''s head into the ground, the earth shattering beneath the blow. CRUNCH! The sound of rock and soil splitting echoed through the clearing. Before Volk could even register the pain, Luk''Tar was on him again, his fists pounding down like hammers. BAM! BAM! BAM! Each strike shook the ground, sending tremors through the earth that rippled outward. Volk''s growls of pain were drowned out by the relentless THUD! of Luk''Tar''s fists colliding with his skull. Each punch was harder than the last, each one driving Volk deeper into the ground, as if Luk''Tar was trying to bury him alive with sheer brute force. "URGH!" Volk grunted, trying to push back, but the blows kept coming. Every time he tried to move, or where he tried to retaliate, Luk''Tar''s fist would hit him with crushing force. His body screamed in agony, his bones rattling under the relentless assault. In time, the world around him started to go blur, the edges of his vision darkening with each devastating hit. Through the haze of pain, Volk could hear the voices of the other Orcs around him, their mocking tones cutting through the air like knives. "What was he thinking?" one Orc scoffed. "A Labor Orc challenging a warrior trained from birth?" "He just learned to access the Grum-gar form," another voice sneered. "And he thinks he can take on someone like Luk''Tar?" "And this one here?" a third voice chimed in with a mocking laugh. "He''s claiming he caught the skinless venomous earth mole? That''s a joke! Everyone knows only the strongest could even get close to that thing!" Their laughter rang in Volk''s ears, to him they were loud and cruel. They didn''t believe him. They didn''t believe he was strong enough, capable enough. To them, he was still just a Labor Orc, destined to fail, to be crushed beneath the heel of someone stronger. THUD! Another punch landed, but something inside Volk snapped. His anger, already a raging inferno, flared even brighter. His vision, once blurred by the pain, began to sharpen, and the mocking voices faded into the background, replaced by the pounding of his own heartbeat. His eyes, glowing with the unnatural green light of his radioactive form, burned even fiercer, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Luk''Tar, noticing the shift in Volk''s expression, hesitated. The Labor Orc should have been unconscious by now, beaten into submission. But Volk wasn''t going down. Instead, he was glaring up at him, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down Luk''Tar''s spine. THUD! Luk''Tar delivered another punch, but this time, Volk didn''t budge. His head didn''t slam into the ground. Instead, he remained upright, his gaze locked onto Luk''Tar. Confusion flickered in Luk''Tar''s eyes. His fist still connected with Volk''s skull, but it was as if the Labor Orc had become an immovable object. With a sudden, bone-crushing grip, Volk''s hand shot up and clamped around Luk''Tar''s wrist. The force of the grasp made Luk''Tar wince, as if his confidence wavering for the first time immediately. This wasn''t right. This Labor Orc wasn''t supposed to be this strong, wasn''t supposed to be able to fight back. Volk''s lips curled into a snarl, his voice low and menacing. "VOOOOOOOLLKKK," he growled, his words dripping with fury and defiance. The ground beneath them trembled as Volk''s power surged, his muscles swelling with the force of his destructive rage. "IS THE STRONGEST-" Volk roared, with his voice already echoing through the clearing with the force of a thunderclap, he will add, "OF THEM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLL!!!" S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. With a sudden, explosive movement, Volk flung Luk''Tar away from him, sending the larger Orc hurtling through the air. CRASH! Luk''Tar''s body collided with a tent, the sturdy fabric were torn apart as the force of the impact ripped the tent poles from the ground. Until the whole structure crumpled under the weight, collapsing in on itself as Luk''Tar tumbled through the debris. Meanwhile, the sound of wood splintering and fabric ripping filled the whole silent place, the once-majestic tent now reduced to a heap of wreckage. Luk''Tar slumped to the ground amidst the ruins, dazed and disoriented. The breath had been knocked out of him, and he struggled to regain his composure, blinking through the dust and debris that swirled around his eyes and nose. Meanwhile, Volk stood tall, his chest heaving with each breath, and his eyes were still glowing with an unnatural green light. The place and crowd fell silent, their mocking laughter earlier were now replaced with shock. It was clear. No one had expected this. Chapter 7: VOLK SMAAAAASH THIEF! | Ding! | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster and bigger. | Time Deduction: Thirty-seconds. | Current time duration: Fifty-seven seconds. | Volk looked at the screen, he then stood tall proudly, proudly making his massive figure cast a shadow that stretched across the battlefield. His muscles bulged and contorted with pure, unadulterated strength as his fists clenched tightly. The energy within him was like a lava, it was hot, and it was as if he was a volcano on the brink of eruption. Volk could feel that every sinew of his body was taut and concentrated with power, ready to unleash devastation upon his opponent. His eyes, glowing with an eerie green light, bore into the heavens above as he let out a thunderous roar that shook the very earth beneath his feet. "VOOOOOLK, IS THE STRONGEST THERE IS!!!" His voice boomed, echoing off the surrounding towers and trees. "NO ONE STRONGER THAN VOOOOOLLLKK!!" The force of his declaration was enough to send shivers down the spines of those who watched, both Orc and Elven Witch alike. The sheer power radiating from Volk was overwhelming, that they could even feel the wind''s shockwave slammed to their faces. Even the ground beneath him trembled with every word, as if the earth itself was bowing to his incredible might. Luk''Tar, still reeling from the earlier encounter, staggered to his feet. Even though he tried not to accept this, he could feel his body shaking uncontrollably. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Volk, now even more imposing than before. How had this Labor Orc, who had been beneath his fists just moments ago, resisted his blows? How had Volk not only withstood his punches but grown stronger? His thoughts began to swirl of denial as he tried to comprehend what was happening. Suddenly, his muscles ached, a sharp pain shooting through his arms. He glanced down and noticed his hands trembling, the pain radiating through his arm was from the part where Volk had gripped him earlier. Immediately, Luk''Tar''s gaze flickered back to Volk, who now appeared even larger and wider, his Grum-gar form towering before him like a living mountain of muscle and rage. What is happening? Isn''t he smaller than my Grum-gar form earlier? Suddenly, the murmurs of the surrounding Orcs and Elven Witches reached his ears, with the disbelief and awe in their shock voices. "Did you see that? His form has grown!" "How is this possible? He''s just a Labor Orc!" "His Grum-gar form¡­ it''s twice as big now¡­" "What kind of creature is this Volk?" "Luk''Tar''s in trouble¡­ He''s never faced anything or seen like this." "No, not just Lu''Tark, we also have never seen an Orc like this!" Luk''Tar''s heart pounded in his chest as he absorbed the murmurs, and an unknown fear was born and was growing rapidly with each word. Because of that, he realized something. This wasn''t just a duel anymore; it was a fight for survival! He glanced at his discarded weapons, with his mind thinking of the rules and honor of the Orc tribe. In a KORNUUM DRHAKAR duel, Orcs were allowed to use weapons¡ªit was, after all, a life-and-death battle. Perhaps he should¡­ Before he could finish the thought, Volk let out another deafening roar. "TIIIIME!!" His voice shook the very air around them as if he sucked them all in violently. "FOOORR VOLK TO SMASH THIEF!!!" Without hesitation, Luk''Tar dove toward his discarded sword and shield. He didn''t care if muscles were still strained as he scooped up the spear. With a quick desperation, he grabbed the shield, feeling its sturdy frame offering a sense of protection. He immediately assumed a defensive posture, crouching low with his shield raised and sword poised to strike. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at the behemoth that was Volk. "Ha," "Ha," "I can do this," he mumbled to himself. But Volk didn''t care. With a guttural growl, he launched himself at Luk''Tar. Making the ground beneath him trembled with each step, and the air vibrated with his roar. "GRAAAAA!!!" Luk''Tar barely had time to react. He thrust his spear forward, aiming for Volk''s chest. The weapon struck with a resounding CLANG!¡ªbut it didn''t pierce. The spearhead merely glanced off Volk''s chest, as if striking solid rock. Luk''Tar''s eyes widened in shock, his mind immediately struggling to comprehend how the spear had failed. However, before he could think further, Volk was upon him. With a fierce growl, "GRAAAAAA!!," Volk''s massive hand shot out, grabbing Luk''Tar''s arm with a vice-like grip. Luk''Tar''s heart skipped a beat as he felt the overwhelming destructive strength in Volk''s grasp, he could even feel some of his bones creaking under the pressure. "GRAAAAAA!!!" With a roar, Volk pulled Luk''Tar toward him and smashed his head into Luk''Tar''s face. BANG! The impact was bone-shattering, sending a shockwave through Luk''Tar''s skull. The sound echoed through the clearing as Luk''Tar''s body was flung backward, crashing into the ground with a heavy thud. Green blood spattered from his nose, eyes, and mouth, staining the earth beneath him. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He lay there, dazed and barely conscious, he could feel his vision swimming somewhere. And every single fiber of his being were screaming in pain, but he forced himself to stand, albeit shakily. When he did, his legs wobbled beneath him as he wiped the blood from his face with a trembling hand. Through the haze of pain, he muttered to himself with disbelief. "Just what creature is he!?" His question was answered by the sight of Volk charging at him again, his massive form filling Luk''Tar''s vision. "GRAAAAAA!!!" Volk''s roar tore through the air as he leaped into the air, both feet aimed directly at Luk''Tar''s chest. Lu''Tark has no choice but to raise his shield. BANG! The force of the impact was unimaginable. The shield was obliterated instantly, like an egg. This connected Volk''s feet with Luk''Tar''s chest with the power of a battering ram, spilling Volk''s body with a sticky blood and sending Lu''Tark flying through the air. Soon, his body tumbled over and over, with a trail of dark green blood marking his path as he crashed and rolled into the ground, before skidding to a halt several feet away. Meanwhile, Volk landed with a thunderous crash, the ground quaking beneath him as he stood tall. His eyes blazed with a fierce, unrelenting light as he gazed upon the fallen form of Luk''Tar, who now lay motionless in the dirt. The surrounding Elves and Orcs were silent, they feel like if they talk now, Volk would attack them too. Not caring where he was, Volk threw his head back and roared to the sky, "VOOOOOLLLK SMAAAAASHHH THIEEEEFFFFF!!!" "VOODOOLLKK IS THE STRONGEST THERE IS!!!" Volk stood tall, his massive figure towering over the majority, his chest not even heaving with exertion but with satisfied rage. He had won. The thief Luk''Tar lay defeated, flung like a ragdoll across the opposite direction. "ROOOAAARRR!!" He bellowed again, with a thunderous voice that seemingly declared his dominance. He roared repeatedly, each one more ferocious than the last. But as Volk continued to unleash his triumphant cries, something unknown began to shift in the atmosphere. The surrounding Orcs and Elves, who had been stunned into silence, with their eyes wide with disbelief at the spectacle before them, now began to stir. Slowly, they snapped back to reality. Their initial shock transformed into something else¡ªsomething unspoken, yet understood among them. They exchanged glances, sending a silent communication passing between them, and then formed a collective decision. One by one, they nodded at each other, their mutual understanding was as fast as lightning when it took root. The Elven Witches, with their ethereal grace, and the Orcs, with their imposing strength, moved toward Volk''s direction. Their approach was slow, almost hesitant, but there was a growing resolve in their movements that they needed to do this. Volk, still roaring mightily, noticed the shift in the air. His instincts kicked in, and he stopped mid-roar, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he watched the group approach. "Grrrrr¡­" A low growl rumbled in his throat, right away, his muscles tenses, ready for combat. Were they here to challenge him? Volk is not scared. But before he could act, one of the Orcs stepped forward, on the spot, he shouted with his voice booming across the clearing, "Hail! The KORNUUM DRHAKAR winner and the new Champion, Volk!" and he repeated, "Hail! The KORNUUM DRHAKAR winner and the new Champion, Volk!" Volk''s radioactive form faltered for a moment, taken aback by the declaration. The glow in his eyes flickered as he processed the words. "VOLK? CHAMPION?" he growled, his loud voice filled with confusion. The Orcs and Elves, their voices now blending together in a harmonious chorus, began to chant, "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" The chant grew louder, their voices rising in unison, creating a powerful rhythm that echoed through the trees. The surrounding creatures fell silent, as if paying homage to the new champion in their midst. Meanwhile, Volk stood still there, with his massive form towering over them all, he was unable to comprehend the situation. "VOLK CHAMPION?" he mumbled. It was as if the idea was a foreign concept to him, something he had never considered possible. But the chant continued to grow in intensity, the voices around him rising to a fever pitch. "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" Volk''s expression shifted from confusion to acceptance as the realization dawned on his head. The power of their words, the weight of their recognition, began to fill him with a sense of pride. He had done it. He had proven himself, not just to them, but to the primal force within him. Finally, he embraced it. "I, VOOOOLLKK!!! CHAMPION!" he roared, with his voice booming across the clearing in an unstoppable force. The ground beneath him trembled with the force of his declaration. The crowd responded with even more fervor, their voices rising to match his intensity. "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" Volk repeated the words, each time louder, more powerful, feeding off the energy of the crowd. His voice blended with theirs, creating a symphony of triumph that resonated through the very core of the forest. His radioactive form seemed to pulse with a newfound sense of ego, of pride, as if it were feeding off the adulation of the masses. Inside, the real Volk felt a surge of satisfaction. The primal beast within him revered in the glory, in the unfamiliar recognition. It was a feeling unlike anything he had experienced, like there was a sense of fulfillment that he hadn''t realized he craved. But instead of pushing it away, instead of denying it, he let it sink in deep, embracing the moment for what it was. Great! The chant continued, growing louder, more intense with each passing second. "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" Volk threw his head back and roared once more. "ROOOARRRR!!!" Together, their voices created a cacophony of triumph, a declaration of Volk''s new status in this magical orc tribe! Chapter 8: Solluhar As Volk stood amidst the cheering crowd, the sound of their voices filled the air, rising in a symphony of triumph and adoration. His victory over Luk''Tar felt fresh, and his massive Grum-gar form still pulsed with the lingering energy of the fight. The Orcs and Elves chanted his name, "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" Their voices echoed through the tents, and for a moment, Volk let himself bask in the glory of his triumph. Then, suddenly, his vision blurred, and a familiar system notification materialized before his eyes. | Ding! | Duration: Zero. | The host will now turn back to being normal, or if the host wishes, the host could stay a rampaging mindless beast. | Volk blinked, and he sneered, "No way!" He mumbled. Instantaneously, he felt a shift within his body. His towering, titan-like form began to change. His muscles, once bulging with an almost uncontrollable power, started to contract. First, his massive and thick arms slowly reduced in size, the thick cords of muscle smoothing out as they retracted. His chest followed, the broad expanse narrowing, his pectorals no longer jutting out with such extreme definition. The transformation continued down his torso, his rock-hard abdomen softening into the tightly packed muscles of his regular form. His legs, too, grew slimmer, their immense power condensed into the more manageable frame of a warrior Orc. His skin, which had taken on a faint greenish glow, returned to its natural, earthy tone. Finally, his head, once enlarged and fierce with rage, returned to its normal size, now his face lost the sharp, monstrous angles that had come with his Grum-gar transformation¡ªradioactive form. As Volk completed his transformation, his breathing steadied, and he flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar strength of his regular form. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The crowd around him continued to cheer, seemingly unfazed by his change. "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" To them, he was still the champion who had defeated Luk''Tar, still the Orc who had earned their respect and admiration. But then, a voice broke through the cheers, sharp and filled with venom. "Luk''Tar was a fool!" the voice spat out. The crowd quieted slightly as an older Orc stepped forward, his eyes narrowed in disdain. "He accepted the KORNUUM DRHAKAR challenge, thinking Volk was just a normal Labor Orc, easy to defeat. He thought he could hide his dishonor by avoiding the crystal that would have exposed him for what he really is!" Like magic, the crowd began to murmur in agreement. "But what happened? Luk''Tar lost! He lost because Volk is the true champion!" the older Orc continued, his voice rising with each word. "Luk''Tar thought he could keep his secrets, but the truth always comes out!" As the older Orc finished, another Orc, this one younger, stepped forward, his face contorted in anger. "Luk''Tar has always been shameless! I remember when he challenged me for my place in the tribe, knowing I was injured and couldn''t fight back. He didn''t care about honor then, and he doesn''t care about it now!" A third Orc, his voice rough and full of bitterness, added, "Luk''Tar betrayed me too! He promised to help me when my family was struggling, but he took what little we had for himself. He''s nothing but a liar and a cheat!" The crowd''s murmurs grew louder, their voices blending into a chorus of condemnation. "He''s always been this way!" "Luk''Tar is no true warrior!" "Volk showed him what real strength is!" The voices overlapped, each one adding to the growing tide of resentment against Luk''Tar. Volk stood in silence, his brow furrowed as he listened to the accusations. The cheers of the crowd had turned into something darker, something bitter and vengeful. He could see it now¡ªif he had lost, these same people would have turned on him just as quickly. This awareness made him tighten his jaw, but he remained quiet, letting the crowd have their say while letting them pass through his ears. But as the Orcs and Elves continued to vent their anger, Volk''s attention was suddenly drawn to a figure standing at the edge of the crowd. His keen eyes focused on her, a young Elven woman with delicate features and long, green hair. "Isn''t she the one with the thief?" She was oblivious to his gaze, her head bowed, and her shoulders trembling slightly as if she were holding back tears in pain. The woman''s lips moved, barely a whisper, but Volk''s sharp ears caught the words. "All of you are wrong," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. "All of you are wrong." Volk''s brow furrowed as he watched her, and the crowd''s accusations faded into the background as he focused on her, intrigued by the sorrow that seemed to envelop her. The woman, Solluha''r, closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting back to memories she had kept hidden in her heart. "Luk''Tar was not like this, he is kind, brave and won''t do such things," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "There was kindness in him. I remember when he saved that young Orc boy from drowning. He didn''t want anyone to know, but I saw it. I saw the way he risked his life to save another." Her words were lost on the crowd, but Volk heard them clearly. His eyes narrowed as he listened, his curiosity was growing in a steady pace. Solluha''r''s voice grew more steady as she continued, her memories pouring out like a flood. "And the time he gave his food to the elders when the harvest was bad. He went hungry for days, but he didn''t tell anyone. He did it because he cared, because he knew they needed it more than he did." Volk''s expression softened slightly as he listened, a flicker of something¡ªpity, perhaps¡ªcrossing his features. "And then there was the day he found that injured wolf," Solluha''r murmured, her eyes filling with tears. "He nursed it back to health in secret, even though the others would have killed it. He let it go when it was strong enough to survive on its own. He wasn''t always this way... he wasn''t always so lost." As Solluha''r spoke, her mind was flooded with memories of Luk''Tar, not as the disgraced warrior he was now, but as the Orc she had once known. Her heart ached as she remembered those memories with him. She clenched her fists, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Why, Lu''Tark?" she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "Why did you have to accept that duel? You could have just ignored him... Why did you have to prove yourself? Who is he even?" Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and pain, the memories of the moments she had shared with Lu''Tark. Although they had never even kissed, they already expressed the feelings they had for each other. And now, all of it was shattered. Solluha''r''s eyes filled with tears as she remembered the bond they had shared, a bond that had been torn apart when her talent was revealed. She had accepted her fate, knowing that her place was with the tribe, not with Lu''Tark. However, the news of his capture of the skinless venomous earth mole had rekindled her hope, a hope that had now been dashed once again. "Why, Lu''Tark?" she whispered again, her voice barely audible. "Why did it have to end like this?" As she stood there, lost in her despair, a shadow fell over her. She looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting the gaze of Volk, who had been watching her silently. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something that made her heart skip a beat. Volk, who had remained silent through it all, watched Solluha''r with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper¡ªsomething he couldn''t quite place. "I wouldn''t have done this if he didn''t did that to me first," he suddenly said. Chapter 9: Transactional wife Volk watched Solluha''r closely as the noise of the cheering crowd slowly faded into the background. The young Elven woman, her silver like green hair gleaming in the dimming light, had just witnessed the brutal defeat of her lover, Luk''Tar. Her face, which had been pale and filled with sorrow, now showed the first flicker of something else¡ªan acknowledgment of Volk''s power and the harsh reality of her situation. Volk''s voice broke the tense silence between them. "I wouldn''t have done this if he didn''t do that to me first." Solluha''r''s eyes flicked upward, meeting his eyes for just a brief moment before she dropped her gaze to the ground. She nodded slowly, "Yes, I believe you." Volk was taken aback by her response. In her words and in the way she carried herself, he saw a strength that he hadn''t expected. Despite the turmoil in her heart, she was willing to accept the outcome of the duel for the sake of the tribe. Instead of getting angry at him, she was willing to let go of her lover, Luk''Tar, because she knew what was expected of her. Her loyalty to the tribe, her sense of duty¡ªit all resonated with Volk. This girl is strong, Volk thought to himself. Stronger than most. Back in his world, women often chose their providers over their true lovers, sacrificing love for security and survival. He had seen it time and again¡ªgirls marrying someone else while still holding onto thoughts of their true love. It was a harsh reality, but one that made sense in the brutal world they lived in. Survival often demanded such sacrifices. In this, Solluha''r''s decision to accept her fate didn''t surprise him, but it did make him respect her. She was doing what she had to for the tribe, and he understood that. Suddenly, an idea formed in Volk''s mind, one that was as practical as it was unexpected. He looked at Solluha''r, who was still lost in her own thoughts, and asked, "How about you become my wife?" The words were like a sudden change of weather. Solluha''r''s eyes widened slightly, but there was no shock in her expression. It was as if she had expected this, she had already resigned herself to such a fate even if Luk''Tar failed and she would get together with somebody among the Dreadmaw Clan. Her lips trembled slightly before she nodded. Volk could see the heartbreak in her eyes, even though she tried to hide it. He knew that her heart still belonged to Luk''Tar, but that didn''t matter to him. His reasons for wanting her as his wife were clear in his mind. He knew what kind of woman she was¡ªstrong, dutiful, and talented. She wouldn''t be a burden, and he wouldn''t have to worry about her feelings getting in the way of what needed to be done. All he needed was someone who would follow his command, someone who would help him grow stronger. Once an Elven Witch like Solluha''r paired with an Orc like him, he knew his power would increase because he would now be sensitive to mana. Plus, her talents were unmatched among the younger generation, and with her by his side, he would become an even more formidable warrior. And if, in the future, she is still pinned for Luk''Tar, Volk would have no qualms about letting her go. After all, his mission didn''t require emotions¡ªit only required results. She was chosen as the grand prize of the event for a reason, and that reason was her potential to elevate the strength of any warrior she was paired with. Volk would use that to his advantage. Solluha''r remained silent, her acceptance without surprise or argument. She had already accepted her fate long ago, ever since she was chosen as the grand prize. But the turn of events had reignited a small hope within her¡ªa hope that Luk''Tar might be the one to hold her. That hope was now extinguished, leaving her with nothing but the cold reality that it would be Volk, not Luk''Tar, who would claim her. Volk saw the sadness in her eyes and suddenly reached out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him. His grip was firm but not cruel, and his voice was low and steady as he spoke. "Look," he said, "I''m not forcing you. If in the future I find someone else, I''ll let you go. Then, you can go back to your lover, Luk''Tar." Solluha''r''s eyes filled with tears as she listened to Volk''s words. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, and she knew that he was speaking the truth. He didn''t care about her feelings, didn''t care about the love she had lost. To him, she was a means to an end, a tool to help him achieve his goals. And yet, there was something in his words that made her feel a tiny flicker of relief. He was giving her an out, a chance to return to Luk''Tar if things changed. "You and Luk''Tar are meant to be," Volk continued, his voice unwavering. "Whatever I do, I know that you will never truly belong to me. I just need you for your talent for now, nothing less, nothing more." Tears spilled over Solluha''r''s cheeks, and she nodded her head, accepting the cold reality of her situation. Volk smiled, a thin, satisfied smile, and released her chin. "Good, good," he said, his voice carrying a note of approval. "Then there''s no need to punish Luk''Tar. I''ll let him live because of your decision." Solluha''r''s eyes widened in surprise as she looked at Volk, her tears momentarily forgotten. The insight of what he had just said struck her in the head like a blow¡ªhe would have punished Luk''Tar if she had refused. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she realized how close she had come to sealing her lover''s fate with her own words. Volk''s smile widened as he saw the surprise in her eyes. "Yes, I would have," he said, answering the question that she hadn''t asked. "But you made the right choice. Now, we can both get what we want." Solluha''r could only nod again, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she had been forced to choose between her own happiness and Luk''Tar''s life. She had chosen the latter, sacrificing her own desires for the sake of the man she loved. But in doing so, she had also bound herself to Volk, a warrior she barely knew, a man who saw her only as a tool to be used. Everything else¡ªthe crowd''s noise, Volk''s voice, her own thoughts¡ªfaded into nothingness. The world around her seemed to dissolve, leaving only the weight of her decision pressing down on her, crushing her spirit. All that remained was a deep, unknown and an overwhelming sense of emptiness. Meanwhile, Volk noticed the sadness in Solluha''r''s eyes deepening. A flicker of an idea crossed his mind. Without warning, he wrapped his large hand around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into the air. He secured her against him, his right hand firmly grasping her backside while his left hand remained on her chin. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He brought her face close to his, their noses almost touching. His voice was low, resonating with a surprising gentleness as he spoke. "I know this is hard," Volk began, his words uncharacteristically soft. "I can see it in your eyes. You feel like a tool, something to be used. But believe me, I don''t want this any more than you do. I''m in the same situation as you, forced into something neither of us asked for." His words were like a truthful whisper of the warm wind, laden with a truth that was hard for Solluha''r to ignore. Volk''s tone shifted as he continued, his voice growing firmer, more resolute. "Our tribe is in danger, Solluha''r. We''re living on the edge, surrounded by enemies in this godforsaken forest. We''ve escaped the Dark Elven Witches and the Red Elven Warlocks, but how long can we survive like this? "We need strength, and that''s why I chose you. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to¡ªfor the horde, for the tribe, and for the elves. Can you understand that?" Solluha''r''s voice was barely above a whisper, but she nodded and replied, "Yes, I understand." "See," Volk said, his tone softening again, "we''re in the same boat. If I had a choice, I might have chosen someone else, someone who felt the same way about me. But just like you, I don''t have a choice. We''re both forced into this for the greater good." Volk''s eyes searched hers, his expression serious. "So, I''m going to ask you again, Solluha''r. Do you want to be my wife? If you feel like a tool, if you truly don''t want this, just say no. I''ll understand. I''ll choose the second most talented girl in the tribe, and we can both go our separate ways." Solluha''r hesitated, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. She could see the sincerity in Volk''s eyes, the heavy burden of responsibility they both carried. In that moment, she realized that this man, despite his rough exterior and brutal strength, was just as trapped by fate as she was. He didn''t want this any more than she did, but he was willing to do whatever it took to protect the tribe, the horde, and the elves. Her resolve hardened. This was her fate, and it was Volk''s as well. With a slow, deliberate nod, Solluha''r accepted her destiny. Seeing the determination in her eyes, Volk''s expression changed. A confident smile spread across his face, and without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was deep, intense, and it took Solluha''r by surprise. Her eyes widened, her body stiffened at first, but soon she felt herself melting into his embrace. The kiss seemed to last an eternity, a moment in which all of her fears and doubts were washed away by the overwhelming force of his will. When Volk finally pulled away, he looked at her with a satisfied grin. "Tasty," he murmured, the word filled with a possessive pride. Solluha''r blinked, bewildered by the sudden intimacy. Her mind was a jumble of emotions, and she found herself asking, "Why did you kiss me?" Chapter 10: Symbiotic relationship Volk''s confident smile widened, a glint of determination in his eyes. He leaned in closer to Solluha''r, with a deep and unwavering voice. "I kissed you because I wanted to," he said, his tone firm. "And I''m grateful that you accepted. I have one life to live, Solluha''r, and I could die at any moment. "Since you''re now mine, I won''t waste a single moment. I''ll enjoy every second with you. "No! "I''ll make sure every second, I will enjoy you! "When the day comes that you want to leave or when I have to let you go, I''ll know that I didn''t waste a damn second and I won''t regret every single thing that will happen between us!" As his words sank in, Solluha''r''s face turned a deep shade of red. Her body trembled slightly, and a strange warmth spread through her, emanating from deep within. She couldn''t explain it, but something inside her was awakening¡ªa heat, a strange warm wetness down below, and an unknown yearning she kept denying that she had never felt before. Without warning, Volk tightened his grip around her waist, lifting her even higher, and then swung her around with surprising grace. Her world spun for a moment before he began to walk toward the center of the horde, carrying her like a prized possession. The sudden movement made her gasp, but before she could protest, Volk''s booming voice echoed across the gathering. "She will be my wife!" he declared, with a voice filled with pride. The entire tribe¡ªOrcs and Elves alike¡ªfell silent. The air seemed to thicken with the weight of his words. Faces turned toward them, eyes wide with shock and curiosity. Murmurs started to spread through the crowd, questions and speculations whispered among them. Many knew Solluha''r was Lu''Tark''s intended partner, and confusion rippled through the horde. Solluha''r''s blush deepened, her embarrassment almost overwhelming. She felt every eye on her, judging, questioning, and she desperately tried to avoid meeting any of them. But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw him¡ªLu''Tark. He was conscious now, standing with the support of several Orcs. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, and guilt surged through her like a tidal wave. She forced herself to look away, to focus on Volk, to focus on the tribe. This was for the tribe, she told herself, and she had to do this. Yes, this was for the tribe, and she had to do this, repeating it like a mantra. Lu''Tark, meanwhile, felt his heart shatter as he watched the scene unfold. The sight of Solluha''r, blushing and being carried like a princess by the one who defeated him, enjoying the moment despite her earlier reluctance, was more than he could bear. The Orcs supporting him began to pull him away, with a harsh and mocking tone on their voices. "Let''s go," one of them said, his tone sharp. "There''s no point in watching this ceremony." Another snorted, adding with disdain, "You''ve lost. It''s over." S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lu''Tark nodded weakly, feeling his spirit completely crushed. His once vibrant eyes now looked hollow and lifeless as he accepted his fate. There was nothing left for him here, nothing but the bitter taste of defeat and loss of his one and only love. Back at the center of the horde, Volk was watching Lu''Tark in the corner of his eyes, and his eyes would beam with a malevolent glint, but he quickly hid it. Soon, he brought Solluha''r to stand before a massive bonfire that roared with magical energy. The flames crackled and danced, their glow casting long shadows over the gathering. The air around them was charged with power, a palpable force that made the hair on Solluha''r''s arms stand on end. The tribe began to chant, their voices rising in a rhythmic, ancient song that resonated deep within the earth. The words were old, older than any of them, passed down through generations. The chant echoed through the clearing, each note a piece of their history, their struggles, and their unity. As the chant grew louder, the fire before them blazed higher, its flames tinged with colors beyond the natural spectrum¡ªvivid purples, deep blues, and fiery reds. Solluha''r felt the warmth of the fire envelop her, but it wasn''t just heat¡ªit was something more, something alive. The magic of the bonfire seeped into her skin, filling her with an energy she had never experienced before. It was as if the very essence of the tribe was flowing through her veins, binding her to this moment, to Volk, and to their shared destiny. Volk, too, felt the magic wrapping around him, invigorating him, heightening his senses. He could see the uncertainty flickering in Solluha''r''s eyes, the lingering doubt. He knew what this meant to her, how close she had been to becoming Lu''Tark''s partner, and now here she was, standing on the brink of a new life with him instead. He leaned in, his voice low but intense. "Are you sure about this, Solluha''r? If you''re not ready, you can say no. I won''t hold it against you." Solluha''r''s heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She remembered Lu''Tark, the promises they had made to each other, the future they had imagined together. But she also knew the reality of their situation. This was for the tribe, for their survival, for the greater good. With a deep breath, she shook her head, pushing away the guilt, the doubt, and any lingering attachment she believed she still had. "I want to do this," she said, her voice firm despite the turmoil inside her. "For the tribe." Volk nodded. "Good," he said, his voice resonating with approval. He looked into her eyes, seeing the resolve there, the acceptance. Meanwhile, the chant reached its climax, the voices of the tribe swelling in unison as the flames of the bonfire surged even higher. Suddenly, a phenomenon began to unfold¡ªa swirling mist rose from the ground, mingling with the fire, enveloping Volk and Solluha''r in a cocoon of light and magic. The air shimmered with energy, the very fabric of reality bending around them as the ritual reached its peak. Solluha''r could feel the magic pulsing through her, binding her to Volk in a way that went beyond mere words or vows. It was a connection forged in the very essence of their beings, a bond that would shape their future, whatever that future might be. Despite the lingering sadness in her heart, she felt a strange sense of peace, as if she had finally found her place, her purpose. As the mist and flames enveloped them, their silhouettes began to blur, fading into the swirling vortex of magic. The last thing Solluha''r saw before everything disappeared was Volk''s face, his eyes filled with determination and a strange, unexpected warmth. Then, everything was consumed by the light, and the two of them were gone, their fates sealed by the ancient ritual. After a few minutes, as the mystical flames began to recede, the scorching heat that had enveloped Volk''s chest started to diminish, leaving behind fiery, glowing markings etched into his skin. The sensation was more than just skin deep; it was as if the very essence of the fire had embedded itself into his soul, burning with a persistent intensity. He exhaled, the breath escaping his lips like a hiss¡ªhssss¡ªas the realization of what had just happened settled over him. Suddenly, he noticed Solluha''r swaying, her legs buckling beneath her as the effects of the transformation took their toll. Her small, delicate frame had begun to expand, growing heavier, her limbs longer and more muscular. The air around her seemed to hum¡ªbzzzz¡ªwith energy, as if the very atmosphere recognized the change. Before she could collapse, Volk sprang towards her. His powerful arms shot out¡ªwhish¡ªand he caught her with ease. Holding her, he could feel her body heat, almost feverish, against his skin. He could feel the little strange fiery aura radiating off her, like aa pulsing warmth that seemed to resonate with the marks on his chest. The silence of the moment was punctuated only by the crackling of the dying flames¡ªcrackle, crackle¡ªas Volk cradled her in his arms. Solluha''r''s breathing was ragged¡ªhuff, huff¡ªand her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, filled with a mixture of confusion, fear, and something else¡ªsomething deeper, perhaps a dawning understanding of their newfound connection. "Easy now," Volk murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air¡ªrumble. "I''ve got you." Solluha''r''s lips quivered¡ªquiver¡ªas she tried to speak, but the words wouldn''t come. Instead, she simply nodded, and a small, almost imperceptible movement that Volk felt more than saw. Suddenly, Volk felt that her body, once petite and fragile, had transformed into something more heavy. Taking a clear view of her whole body in his arms, he now felt that she had once stood at a modest height, but now reached nearly seven feet, with her frame broader and more imposing. He could confirm it with the murmurs from the gathered tribe members¡ªmurmur, murmur¡ªas they too noticed the dramatic change in Solluha''r. Whispers of astonishment rippled through the crowd like a wave¡ªwhoosh¡ªas Orcs and Elves alike exchanged stunned glances. "Did you see that?" one voice whispered, barely audible. "She''s grown so much," another added, disbelief tinged with awe. "Is it normal? I think she''s too big," an older Orc commented, his voice grave. "I have never seen an elven race become as big as her size now, is that normal?" Volk''s sharp ears caught every word¡ªshing, shing¡ªbut his focus remained on the woman in his arms. He could feel the tremors in her body¡ªtremble, tremble¡ªas she adjusted to her new form, the weight of what had happened pressed down on her just as heavily as her new physical mass. Volk decided just to stare at her. Solluha''r''s eyes widened slightly¡ªblink, blink¡ªas she absorbed his words. There was a flicker of something in her gaze¡ªperhaps a hint of resolve, or maybe just the first glimmer of acceptance. Volk could see that she was struggling to process everything, so he slowly lowered her to the ground, but his hands remained steady¡ªthump¡ªagainst her shoulders, supporting her until she was sure of her footing. The transformation had clearly taken a toll, and Volk could feel the strain in her muscles¡ªstrain, strain¡ªas she adjusted to her new body. The murmurs around them continued¡ªmurmur, murmur¡ªbut Volk ignored them. His attention was entirely on Solluha''r, on the woman who had just become his partner in a way that went beyond any normal bond. He could feel the connection between them, a pulsing energy that thrummed¡ªthrum, thrum¡ªbeneath the surface, tying them together in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. Before Volk could say anything more, a soft chime echoed in his mind¡ªding¡ªthe familiar sound of the system notification snapping him back to reality. | Ding! | Mission: Get yourself a Nuclear Reactor Vessel! | Status: Completed! | Chapter 11: Radioactive Abilities As Volk stood there, holding the newly transformed Solluha''r in his arms, another screen suddenly materialized before his eyes, glowing with an eerie light. His gaze sharpened as he read the words that appeared: | Ding! | Name: Solluha''r Dohur''khandel. | Age: 18 years old. | Symbiotic relationship: Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel. | Nuclear Energy Vessels: 4. | For a moment, Volk was speechless, his thoughts swirling in confusion. What? He thought, with a swirling head. She''s the Nuclear Reactor Vessel? His brow furrowed as the implications began to sink in. How is this possible? Why is she a Nuclear Reactor Vessel? The questions bombarded his mind, but no answers came. Is she going to be dangerous? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Volk''s instincts screamed at him to protect, but from what? From her? The woman he had just vowed to share his life with? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but his unease lingered like an important event he shouldn''t ignore. Just then, as if responding to his silent turmoil, the system chimed in¡ªDing!¡ªand more text scrolled across the screen: | Ding! | Solluha''r will live peacefully and normally as a vessel. She is not radioactive and will be immune to radiation depending on her Mana manipulation ability. | Volk let out a breath he didn''t realize he''d been holding. So, she''s safe¡­ and immune to radiation? The relief was immense, he was worried the tribe would explode but he still couldn''t shake the oddness of it all. Mana manipulation? He wondered just how powerful she might become with this strange new status. Before Volk could dwell on it further, another system screen appeared¡ªDing¡ªflashing with more information: | Ding! | Due to the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel having four energy storages, the host, Volk, can instantly store four types of nuclear energies using the symbiotic relationship: Botanical, Wind, Earth, and Water. | A slow grin spread across Volk''s face. Four types of nuclear energy¡­ He was clueless but it doesn''t matter. He could feel an unknown power within him thrumming beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed in this magical world that he is now living in. However, there was one nagging question that he couldn''t ignore¡ªHow could I make use of all these things? The system seemed to anticipate his thoughts, for it flashed again¡ªDing!¡ªwith a new message: | As a reward for obtaining a Nuclear Reactor Vessel, the host will be given two rewards. | First reward: Radioactive Absorption in the normal orc form! | Volk''s eyes widened. Absorption? The text continued: | Ding! | The host can now absorb radioactive materials or energies everywhere, depending on the Nuclear Energy Vessels that the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel has. | Excitement surged through Volk as he absorbed the information. In this realm, there was something known as Magical radiation, and it was everywhere. The forest they lived in was surrounded by Magical radiations emitted by the trees, and many other places were teeming with radioactive magics. With this ability, Volk realized, I can feel safe anywhere! But even as he reveled in this newfound security, another thought bubbled up to the surface¡ªIs that what I need? Volk''s mind whirled. A radiation janitor? No, he wanted more than that. He needed something he could use in battle, something that would make him a force to be reckoned with in this magical world. Something that could be used in battle, I want something else! As if the system heard his wish, the screen flashed again¡ªDing!¡ªand a new message appeared: | Ding! | For the second reward, the host will be given a radioactive ability called Elemental Nuclear Strikes! | Volk blinked, his interest piqued. Elemental Nuclear Strikes? The text continued: | An ability that can only be used in Radioactive form by Striking or Punching with such force that it generates destructive magical shockwaves! | A surge of adrenaline coursed through Volk''s veins as he read on, his heart pounding in anticipation. | Nuclear Strikes can be used normally, but there are variations that depend on the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel''s mana manipulation ability and level. | These variations have different effects and different destructive powers and it all depends on the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel Ability | Volk could barely contain his excitement. He felt like a child on the verge of opening a long-awaited gift. What''s her level? he wondered, his eyes scanning the screen eagerly. | Ding! | Solar, the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel''s elemental mana manipulation masteries: | Nuclear Botanical Strikes: level 8. | Nuclear Wind Strikes: level 5. | Nuclear Earth Strikes: level 1. | Nuclear Water Strikes: level 1. | Volk nearly jumped for joy. Level 8 in Botanical! He marveled at the strength she already possessed. And Wind at level 5? Earth and Water at level 1? He didn''t care how he could use that, but it sounds astounding. As expected of nuke abilities! He imagined the shockwaves tearing through enemies, uprooting trees, and reshaping the battlefield itself. Unable to contain himself, Volk actually did jump¡ªthud¡ªhis heavy boots hitting the ground with a loud impact. He could use something like a nuclear powered ability with his bare hands, and there are even elemental variations of it which he is not knowledgeable about. However, he believes he will eventually learn them, he just needs more time to practice. The other orcs and elves looked at him in surprise, but their surprise quickly turned to understanding and then to laughter. They could see the joy on his face, the pride that radiated from him. He wasn''t just happy about having a talented wife¡ªno, they realized that Volk''s talent must be immense as well, to have a symbiotic partner become like that¡ªit''s like they are a perfect fit for together. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The obvious information spread through the crowd like forgotten house fire, and soon the cheers began to rise¡ªcheer, cheer¡ªgrowing louder and more fervent with each passing second. "Volk Champion!" they shouted. "Volk Champion!" The chant grew stronger, reverberating through the clearing. "Volk Champion!" Volk''s chest swelled with pride. He had never felt so powerful, so alive. His gaze shifted to Solluha''r who had been quiet through all the commotion. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions that Volk couldn''t quite read. But before he could say anything, she finally spoke, with her voice soft but steady. "I¡­ I need to rest," Solluha''r said, her voice trembling slightly from the weight of the transformation and the events that had just unfolded. She felt like she couldn''t take them and she needed to rest for now. Volk nodded, his earlier exuberance tempered by her obvious exhaustion. He tightened his hold on her, supporting her now larger frame as he guided her away from the cheering crowd, his mind already planning the next steps. There was much to learn, much to explore about their new abilities, but for now, he would let her rest. After all, knowing the nuclear abilities he had now was great news for him. Chapter 12: Changing Area Suddenly, Volk snapped back to reality from the sound of chanting¡ª"Breed! Breed! Breed! Breed!" The cries rang through the air, echoing off the trees and reverberating through the forest. Startled, Volk nearly lost his footing, stumbling slightly as he carried Solluha''r in his arms. Her weight was different now, heavier, more substantial. But it wasn''t just her physical transformation that caused him to pause; it was the nature of the chants that caught him off guard. "Breed! Breed! Breed! Breed!" The Orcs and Elves around him continued to shout, their voices growing louder and more insistent. Volk slightly felt a flush of embarrassment rising in his cheeks. He had forgotten how deeply ingrained this practice was in the tribe. In this magical orc and elf tribe, where survival was a daily battle and their numbers were constantly dwindling due to the relentless pursuit of the Dark Elven Witches and the Red Elven Warlocks, breeding was seen as an urgent necessity. As soon as a symbiotic connection was established, it was expected that the pair would procreate immediately, ensuring the continued growth of the tribe''s population. Sollahur, cradled in Volk''s arms, blushed deeply, and it''s obvious that her face turned into a brilliant shade of red. She hid her face in his chest, trying to escape the stares and the cries that surrounded them. She knew this was the tribe''s way, but it didn''t make the situation any less mortifying. Volk''s thoughts raced as he tried to regain his composure. He knew the logic behind the tribe''s insistence on breeding¡ªit was a matter of survival. If the tribe were attacked again¡ªwhich happens occasionally¡ªand many were killed or captured, the offspring would ensure that the tribe could repopulate and continue to resist their enemies. But the expectation still pressed heavily on his chest. As Volk continued forward, he noticed a massive adult Orc and an Elf standing ahead of him. The two figures were imposing, their presence commanding respect. They were clearly waiting for him and Solluha''r, and as Volk approached, they both stared in awe at Solluha''r''s enlarged form. "Look at her size!" the Orc exclaimed, his voice a deep rumble. His eyes were wide with astonishment as he took in Solluha''r''s transformed body. "I''ve never seen a female this massive before!" He turned to Volk, his gaze filled with admiration. "You must be an incredibly talented, young one! To have a partner become this big after your union¡­ AaaHhh the tribe will benefit greatly from your union!" Sollahur''s face grew even redder, and she squirmed in Volk''s arms, trying to hide herself from their scrutinizing eyes. The compliments, though well-meaning, only added to her embarrassment. The old Orc suddenly looked up at the sky, raising his arms dramatically. "Praise the Orc Lord!" he bellowed, his voice carrying through the forest. "This must be a sign! With a union like this, we will become a powerhouse! We will rise up against our oppressors and reclaim our land!" The Elf beside him, clearly his partner, giggled softly. "You can pray later, old one," she teased, nudging the Orc playfully. "For now, let''s focus on leading these two younglings to their new quarters." Volk felt a surge of gratitude toward the Elf for redirecting the attention away from him and Solluha''r. The chanting in the background continued¡ª"Breed! Breed! Breed! Breed!"¡ªbut it seemed more distant now as the Elf began to lead them away. As they walked, the Elf explained the structure of the tribe. "There are four main areas in our tribe," she began, her voice calm and melodic. "Where you came from was the Cubling Area. That''s where the young cubs and baby ones are reared. It''s heavily guarded by some of our strongest warriors to ensure their safety." Volk nodded, taking in the information. He had noticed the guards earlier but hadn''t paid them much attention, his mind too focused on Solluha''r. "Now," the Elf continued, "we''re heading to the Wilding Area. It''s where you''ll be living from now on. This area is a bit more¡­ free. You''ll have the opportunity to breed, of course, but there are also other activities you can take part in, like the Catacomb Excavation Mission. That one''s quite popular, though it''s not without its risks." She paused, giving them a knowing look. "The tribe rewards those who contribute, so if you''re looking to prove yourself, that''s one way to do it." As they walked, Volk noticed Solluha''r''s face growing even redder, her embarrassment almost palpable. She tried to hide herself again, but this time, using her long, green, shining silver hair to shield her face from view. Volk''s heart went out to her; this was all so overwhelming, and he could only imagine how she must be feeling. "The other two areas," the Elf said, "you''ll learn about them in time. But for now, just focus on settling in and¡­ enjoying yourselves." Sollahur''s face turned crimson at the Elf''s words, and she buried her face even deeper into Volk''s chest. He could feel her body trembling slightly, whether from exhaustion or embarrassment, he wasn''t sure. Finally, they arrived at a small tower, nestled among the trees. The Elf gestured to it with a flourish. "This will be your new home," she explained. "It''s sturdy, built of brick and stone, and even the air can''t penetrate it. It''s designed for privacy and protection." She led them to the entrance. "It''s like a two-story house. The first floor is where you can cook and take care of daily tasks. The second floor¡­ well, that''s where you''ll be you know-" Volk stared at the tower, speechless. But he nodded absently as the Elf continued her explanation, but his mind was elsewhere, spinning with the weight of it all. Finally, the Elf and the old Orc bid them farewell, leaving them alone at the entrance to their new quarters. Solluha''r was still trembling in his arms, her face hidden. Volk took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew what was expected of him, of them both. But that didn''t make it any easier. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Breed! Breed! Breed! Breed!" The distant chants still echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the path that lay before them. With one last deep breath, Volk pushed open the door to the tower and stepped inside, carrying Solluha''r with him. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of magical lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. The first floor was simple, with a small kitchen area and a few chairs. But Volk''s eyes were drawn upward, to the stairs that led to the second floor¡ªthe you-know-uhrm floor. He felt Solluha''r''s grip tighten on him as they ascended the stairs. Her embarrassment was almost overwhelming, but Volk knew he had to stay strong, for both their sakes. This girl''s shit is heavy. Both of them might fall down if he''s not careful. When they reached the top, Volk paused at the doorway, his hand resting on the handle. He looked down at Solluha''r, her face still buried in his chest. "Are you ready?" he asked softly. Sollahur didn''t respond at first, but then she nodded slightly, with her hair brushing against his skin. Volk nodded in return. Chapter 13: Brute Mending Practice Volk felt the warmth of Solluha''r''s skin against his own as he gently placed her on the bed, her slight nod still fresh in his mind. And he stood there for a moment, just watching her as she lay still, eyes averted, lost in thoughts he could only guess at. The flickering light from a nearby lantern cast shadows that danced across her face, highlighting the soft curves of her features. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out from downstairs, cutting through the quiet. Volk''s brow furrowed as he turned toward the door. The voice was unmistakable¡ªone of the elder elves, her tone carrying an air of urgency that was hard to ignore. He glanced back at Solluha''r, who remained silent and motionless on the bed, before reluctantly stepping away. "I''ll be back," he muttered, more to himself than to her, and left the room. Descending the creaky wooden stairs, Volk''s eyes landed on the elf standing at the entrance, holding a rolled-up scroll in her hand. She was an older figure, her eyes sharp with wisdom earned from countless battles and strategies. Her silver hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her expression was one of focused intent. Without a word, she tossed the scroll to Volk, who caught it instinctively, though his thoughts were still upstairs with Solluha''r. "Read what''s inside first," she said, her voice firm. "Before you exchange love liquids, you need to know this." With that, she turned and left as abruptly as she had come, leaving Volk alone in the dimly lit room. Volk looked down at the scroll, his mind racing. The material felt rough in his hands, the animal skin it was made from rough and worn. As he unfurled it, the symbols and runes on the page seemed to glow faintly, and to his surprise, he could understand them with ease. The instructions were clear¡ªwhile consummating the union, he was to channel Mana into the essential parts of his body. Doing so would not only strengthen him but also extend the duration and potency of his Grum-gar form, a state of being that allowed him to tap into the primal strength of his ancestors. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s heart pounded with excitement as he read on, each word fueling a growing determination within him. The concept was simple, yet the implications were profound. This wasn''t just about physical strength; it was about forging a bond that would elevate both him and Solluha''r to new heights of power. He felt a surge of energy course through him as he committed the steps to memory, practicing the mental exercises needed to direct the Mana flow as described. Satisfied that he had absorbed the knowledge, Volk carefully rolled the scroll back up and set it aside. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the anticipation thrumming through his veins, and then climbed the stairs back to where Solluha''r was waiting. The moment he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat. Solluha''r was no longer lying down; she was sitting upright on the bed, her body framed by the soft glow of the lantern. Her green hair, which cascaded down her back like a waterfall of emerald silk, shimmered in the light. She wore only the barest of undergarments now, flimsy pieces of fabric that did little to cover her well-toned, statuesque figure. Her skin was the color of fresh snow, smooth and flawless, with a slight sheen that hinted at the power lying dormant beneath. Her abs, defined yet feminine, moved slightly with each breath she took, and her long legs, toned and powerful, were positioned in a way that seemed almost too deliberate. Volk''s eyes roamed over her body, taking in every inch of her as she tried¡ªand failed¡ªto maintain an air of seduction. There was an awkwardness in her posture, a hesitance in the way she looked at him, it was obvious with her face flushed with embarrassment. It was clear she was trying to play the part, but her nervousness only added to her charm, making her look even more alluring in his eyes. A serious expression crossed Volk''s face as he stepped closer to her, his mind spinning. Wasn''t she in love with Luk''Tar? Why was she trying to seduce him now? The question began to enter his head, and he felt like he couldn''t ignore the strange mix of emotions swirling within him¡ªanger, curiosity, and something else he couldn''t quite name. Without warning, Volk reached out, his fingers brushing against her thigh. The contact was electric, and Solluha''r flinched, her eyes widening in surprise. Volk continued, focusing on her body, sliding his hand slowly up her body, tracing a path from her thigh to her stomach, then to her chest, and up to her neck. His touch was light, almost teasing, yet there was a deliberate intent behind it, as if he was searching for something within her. As his fingers finally reached her face, Solluha''r flinched again, her eyes darting away from his intense gaze. Volk leaned in closer, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. "Are you sure you''re just doing this for the tribe?" he asked, his breath hot against her skin. "Not because you like me? Not because you''re afraid to admit it?" Solluha''r''s face flushed an even deeper shade of red, her body trembling slightly under his touch. She couldn''t bring herself to meet his eyes, instead staring off to the side, her embarrassment clear. "I''m just doing this for the tribe," she whispered, her voice barely audible. A sly smile tugged at the corners of Volk''s mouth. "Really?" he teased, his tone mocking. "For the tribe? Not because you''d feel guilty if you admitted you liked it?" Her blush deepened, and she shook her head vehemently. "No," she insisted, though her voice wavered. "It''s¡­ it''s for the tribe. That''s all." Volk studied her for a moment, his gaze piercing as if trying to see through her words and into her soul. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded slowly. "If you say so," he murmured, his voice softening. He reached out and gently held her head in his hands, pulling her closer until their foreheads touched. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, caught in a strange, unspoken understanding. Despite the circumstances, despite the uncertainty and the lingering doubts, there was a connection between them¡ªa bond that went beyond words or intentions. Whether it was born of duty, fate, or something more, Volk couldn''t tell. But he could feel it, as real and as undeniable as the heartbeat in his chest. Volk didn''t hesitate. With a fire burning in his eyes, he lunged toward Solluha''r, his hands gripping her with a hunger that only grew stronger with each passing moment. His touch was no longer gentle but urgent, driven by a deep, unyielding desire. Solluha''r gasped, her body responding instinctively to his every movement as he claimed her with a ferocity that left no room for her to resist. Soon, the room was soon filled with the sounds of their passion¡ªbreathless gasps, desperate moans, and the rhythmic cadence of their bodies moving together in a wild, unrestrained dance. The bed creaked and groaned beneath them, the wooden frame straining under the intensity of their lovemaking. Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in each other, and the world outside seemed to slowly fading until nothing else existed but the two of them, entwined in a frenzy of heat and desire. After what felt like hours, their movements began to slow. Volk, panting heavily, suddenly froze, a flicker of shock crossed his face. He pulled back slightly, with his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Solluha''r, with her body still trembling from the aftershocks of their union, looked up at him with eyes glazed over in a lustful haze. "What''s wrong?" she asked, her voice breathy, almost pleading, as if she couldn''t bear to be apart from him even for a second. Volk''s gaze sharpened as his mind cleared. He cursed under his breath as he remembered the Mana Bonding Scroll. He hadn''t used it. The thought made him pause, and he could see the shift in Solluha''r''s expression as well. Her eyes widened, the realization dawning on her too. "You didn''t-" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and fear. She didn''t even finish when Volk shook his head, a determined look crossing his face. "No," he said firmly, "I didn''t." Solluha''r''s breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard, she could feel her throat dry. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead as the enormity of what he was saying sank in. "Again?" she whispered, with a barely audible voice. "Yes," Volk replied without hesitation, his tone leaving no room for argument. He could see the apprehension in her eyes, the uncertainty mixed with lingering desire. But there was no backing down now¡ªat least not for him. Sollahur nodded slowly, her gaze locked on his. She was scared, yes, but there was also a strange sense of determination in her eyes, a willingness to go through with this, whatever the cost. She braced herself, her body tensing as Volk moved closer again, her womanhood felt his presence overwhelming, making her body heat up once again. Chapter 14: MagDurotan 2nd stage As the night deepened, the room was filled with a profound stillness, broken only by the soft, labored breaths of Solluha''r. Volk''s initial euphoria began to wane as he realized something was amiss. He couldn''t feel the flow of Mana in his body anymore. The sensation of energy that had surged through him during their union had vanished entirely, leaving him cold and empty. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn''t summon even a spark of the power he had felt before. His eyes shifted to Solluha''r, who lay beside him. Her once radiant skin now looked pale and drained, her chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. Her emerald green hair, once vibrant and flowing like a river of silk, now seemed dull and lifeless. The sight filled Volk with dread. "What''s going on?" he asked, his voice thick with worry. He gently shook her, hoping for a sign of life, but she remained limp, her energy seemingly depleted. A thousand thoughts raced through Volk''s mind, and a deep sense of panic began to set in. Don''t tell me¡­ she couldn''t handle the radiation from me? He cursed himself silently. I shouldn''t have pushed her so hard and should have known that my radiation might cause her harm even though she is the Nuclear Reactor Vessel. He compared Solluha''r''s body to how she looked before¡ªvital, energetic, and full of life¡ªand now she was a shadow of that. She wasn''t just tired; she was completely spent. Her body had weakened to the point where it seemed as though she might never recover. His heart pounded in his chest, along with his breath quickening. He didn''t know what to do. He had never felt this kind of helplessness before. He promised he would always be strong, always seem in control, but now, looking at Solluha''r''s frail form, he felt powerless. Again and again and again. Suddenly, Solluha''r stirred. Her hand, though weak, reached out and touched his face, Volk could feel her palm warm against his skin. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a faint smile. "Don''t worry about me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "After three months of rest, we can do this again. But for now, I can''t¡­ I don''t have any more Mana to give you. I just need a little rest." Volk felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was tempered by doubt. "Are you sure?" he asked, still uncertain. Solluha''r giggled softly, her voice a little stronger now. "Yes, I''m sure," she reassured him. She then wrapped her arms around him weakly, pulling him close. Despite her weakness, she tried to comfort him, and Volk felt a little of his worry melt away. Morning came, and Volk woke to find Solluha''r still sleeping. Her breathing was even, her face peaceful. She looked better than she had the night before, and Volk felt some of his fears ease. Perhaps what she had said was true¡ªmaybe she just needed time to recover. Just as he began to relax, a loud shout echoed from outside. "Kaz''rogal!" The word rang through their bricked wall, and Volk''s heart skipped a beat. He recognized that name¡ªit meant "Mightiest Natural Ability" in the language of his people. Confused, Volk quickly dressed and hurried downstairs. Outside, he was greeted by the sight of a large, muscular orc with wild, white hair standing at the entrance. The old orc studied him with a piercing gaze, sizing him up. "Looks like you are really our tribe''s Kaz''rogal this year, just like Thrand''or said," the orc said with a hint of amusement in his voice. He nodded approvingly. "You''ve already reached the second stage of Mag''Durotan in just one night. That''s impressive. Most of us can''t even reach the first stage after the first night with our lady." Volk blinked in surprise. Second stage? He hadn''t even realized he had advanced. His confusion must have shown on his face because the old orc chuckled and stepped forward. "My name is Gozorm''al," the white-haired orc continued, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience. "Welcome to the Wildling Camp. I am your elder." Gozorm''al reached out and placed a finger on Volk''s chest. For a moment, nothing happened, but then¡ªThum!¡ªVolk felt a surge of warm, heated blood that pulse from his chest spreading all over his body, like a deep, resonant power that seemed to reverberate in his bones. "That''s how you know how strong you are," Gozorm''al said, pulling back his hand with a satisfied grunt. He then turned and motioned for Volk to follow. "Come, there''s much to discuss. I will tell you what your responsibilities are as a warrior of our tribe." Volk hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the tower where Solluha''r slept. She seemed stable for now, and he knew he needed to understand what was happening to him. With a nod, he followed old man Gozorm''al, determined to learn what he needed to protect himself¡ªand her. As they walked through the camp, Volk''s mind raced with questions. What did it mean to be a Kaz''rogal? How had he advanced so quickly? And more importantly, what did that mean for Solluha''r, who had given so much of herself to him? Before he could ask, a glowing system screen appeared in front of him, hovering in mid-air: | Name: Volk Mog''ger | Status: Hornless Orc Tribe Kaz''rogal (Current Year) | Age: 18 | Level: Second Stage Mag''Durotan | Passive Ability: Radioactive Form (Duration: Five Minutes) | Volk was confused as he followed Gozorm''al through the camp. The revelation that he had advanced to the Second Stage Mag''Durotan overnight was shocking enough, but what truly baffled him the most was the increase in his Radioactive Form''s duration. Five minutes? Last time he checked, it was only two minutes. How could it have increased so drastically? Could it be because of Solluha''r? he wondered. The connection between them had clearly amplified his power, but to this extent? It seemed almost unbelievable. He couldn''t help but feel a massive excitement to it. If simply being with her could make him this strong, what would happen if they repeated the process? Would he continue to grow in power? And more importantly, what would that mean for her? As these thoughts churned in his mind, his gaze returned to the glowing screen floating in front of him. The sight of the five-minutes duration on his Radioactive Form nearly made his heart stop again. Don''t tell me¡­ he thought. Does that mean if I really level up my rank as an Orc Warrior, the duration of my Radioactive Form will increase too? It seems Volk needed to know if there was a way to help her recover faster, but he was hoping there was a way to avoid putting her through that again. He couldn''t just stand by and wait for months while she lay weakened. Respectfully, Volk approached Gozorm''al, his voice earnest and laced with concern. "Elder Gozorm''al, how can I help my partner recover? Is there any way to shorten the three-month wait?" The old orc paused, turning to face Volk with a knowing grin. He let out a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the trees, drawing the attention of a few nearby warriors. "Ah, you''re like the others," Gozorm''al said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Impatient, just like I was when I was young." Volk felt his cheeks flush slightly, but he held his ground, determined to find an answer. Gozorm''al''s laughter slowly subsided, and he regarded Volk with a more serious expression. "To help your lover recover," Gozorm''al began, "you must indeed wait for the three months to pass. Her body needs time to replenish the Mana she expended. It is the natural way, and there is wisdom in patience." Volk''s heart sank at the thought of waiting that long, but he nodded, preparing to accept the elder''s words. However, Gozorm''al suddenly paused, a glint of something else in his eye. "Or¡­" Gozorm''al continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, "you could seek out Magical Crystals. These crystals contain immense amounts of Mana. If your partner consumes them, she could recover her energy much faster¡ªperhaps even in a matter of weeks instead of months." Volk''s eyes widened in surprise. "Magical Crystals?" he echoed, feeling a surge of hope. But almost as quickly, his excitement was dampened by Gozorm''al''s next words. "But," the elder cautioned, "you are not allowed to leave the tribe''s boundaries or enter the catacombs yet. You''re not ready. You need to prove yourself with contributions to the tribe and grow stronger before you can venture into the dangerous areas where these crystals are found." Volk clenched his fists in frustration, his earlier hope slipping away. He had never been good at waiting, especially when someone he cared about was suffering. But he just nodded. Gozorm''al seemed to sense Volk''s inner thoughgs inside. With a stern expression, he reached to his side and drew out a weapon¡ªa long, curved blade with intricate designs carved into its hilt. The old orc flipped the weapon in his hand before tossing it at Volk''s feet. The blade landed in the grass with a solid *thunk*, the metal gleaming in the sunlight. "Your training starts here," Gozorm''al declared, his voice carrying the weight of command. "If you wish to be strong enough to protect those you care about, get a crystal outside the tribe or enter a catacomb, you must first learn to master yourself and your power. Only then will you be ready to seek out what you desire." Volk stared down at the weapon below him. He had come here seeking answers, and in a way, he had found them. But they weren''t the answers he had hoped for. Even still, witb a deep breath, he bent down and picked up the blade. Its weight was comforting in his hand, a reminder of the strength he would need to wield. He looked up at Gozorm''al, with an uknown determination hardening in his gaze. "I''m ready," Volk said, his voice steady. Gozorm''al nodded approvingly, making his lips curles nto a small smile. "Good. Let''s see if you have what it takes to be the Kaz''rogal we need." Chapter 15: Volk vs Gozormal 1/2 The training grounds were alive with the rhythmic clash of steel, echoing through the air like a drumbeat. Clang! Clang! Clang! The sounds of metal striking metal filled the clearing as Volk sparred with Gozorm''al under the watchful eyes of other orcs. Sweat dripped from Volk''s brow, his chest heaving with each labored breath. His muscles ached, burning with the strain of the relentless training. No matter how hard he tried, Gozorm''al''s defense was impenetrable. Each strike, each lunge, was effortlessly parried or deflected by the elder orc. On the sidelines, a group of orcs watched the bout intently, their rough voices mixing with the sounds of battle. "Who''s Gozorm''al torturing this time?" one of them asked, a smirk on his face as he leaned on his battle-axe. Another orc, this one with a broad scar running across his chest, squinted at the two combatants. "I heard it''s the Kaz''rogal of this year," he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity. "They say his female is the biggest one anyone''s seen since the last symbiotic union celebration." The first orc raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "The Kaz''rogal? This year''s? Isn''t he supposed to be some labor orc?" "Aye," a third orc chimed in, joining the conversation. "Born from Labor Orcs, they say. Never thought I''d see the day a laborer was named Kaz''rogal. It''s said his female''s size is a sign¡ªit might be the biggest since our ancestors!" The group fell into a thoughtful silence, their eyes fixed on Volk and Gozorm''al. There was an undercurrent of disbelief among them. A labor orc, no less, wielding the title of Kaz''rogal was something none of them had expected. The more they watched, the more curious they became, though none of them dared to voice their skepticism outright. Gozorm''al, for his part, seemed to be enjoying himself. He chuckled every time he deflected one of Volk''s attacks, responding to the shouts from the sidelines with a carefree wave of his hand. "Don''t be too hard on the kid!" one of the orcs called out, his voice tinged with amusement. Another orc grinned, "Hey, Kaz''rogal! Gonna let an old orc bully you like that?" he jeered, earning a ripple of laughter from the others. "He''s a labor orc!" another shouted. "What do you expect? Swingin'' a pickaxe ain''t the same as swingin'' a sword!" Volk gritted his teeth, feeling the frustration mount with each taunt. Every attempt he made to strike Gozorm''al was met with a quick, precise counter, leaving him increasingly battered and bruised. His body screamed in protest, but the pain only fueled his desire to penetrate and hurt the old man and prove them wrong. What should I do? What should I do? he muttered under his breath, trying to find a way through Gozorm''al''s seemingly unbreakable defense. Gozorm''al, noticing Volk''s growing frustration, couldn''t resist mocking him further. "Are you really the Kaz''rogal?" he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The weakest Kaz''rogal of them all, it seems! Others at least managed to land a hit!" Volk''s anger flared at the insult, but he forced himself to stay focused. He wasn''t going to let the old orc''s words rattle him, not when so much was at stake. He needed to think, to find an opening, a weakness he could exploit. As he continued to study Gozorm''al, something clicked in Volk''s mind. The elder orc was much larger than him, towering over him with a physique that seemed almost invincible. But with size came certain¡­vulnerabilities. His eyes traveled downward, assessing Gozorm''al''s stance, and a plan began to form in his mind. Gozorm''al, seeing Volk hesitate, pointed his sword at him, a confident smirk on his lips. "Is that all you''ve got, Kaz''rogal?" he challenged. "You can change into your Grum-gar form if you want. I won''t hold it against you." Volk didn''t respond. His mind was trying to study the old Orc, calculating his next move. He could feel the eyes of the watching orcs on him, their expectations hanging in the air like a thick fog. But he ignored them, focusing solely on Gozorm''al and the opportunity that lay before him. With a sudden burst of energy, Volk drove his sword into the earth, sending a cloud of dirt flying up into the air. Thum! Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The dirt sprayed everywhere, and Gozorm''al instinctively raised his arm to shield his eyes from the attack. But before Gozorm''al could fully recover, Volk was already moving. He dropped to the ground, sliding beneath Gozorm''al''s guard in a blur of motion. Gozorm''al''s eyes widened in surprise as Volk closed in on his target¡ªhis little brother between his massive thighs. With all the strength he could muster, Volk swung his sword upward. Clang! That part was armored but the impact was loud, as if the sound of metal striking metal resonating through the training grounds. It has a metal shield but it was a direct hit, right where Volk had aimed. The entire training ground fell silent. The orcs who had been laughing and jeering moments before now started in stunned disbelief, their eyes wide with shock. Gozorm''al himself was frozen, his expression a mixture of pain, shock, and grudging admiration. For a moment, nobody moved. The only sound was the faint rustle of the wind through the trees. Then, as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in, the silence was shattered by a collective gasp from the crowd. One of the orcs on the sidelines broke the tension with a loud, incredulous laugh. "Did you see that? The kid actually did it!" Another orc doubled over, clutching his stomach as he laughed. "Right in the little Gozorm''al! Hahahhaha!" Another one made a remark while clutching his stomach, "Even if it''s protected by armor, it must have hurt a lot! Haha! Haha! Haha!" Gozorm''al, still reeling from the unexpected attack, slowly straightened up, his face a mix of pain and grudging respect. He let out a pained grunt, shaking his head as he looked down at Volk, who was now on his feet, breathing heavily, but with a look of grim satisfaction on his face. "Well," Gozorm''al said, his voice strained but amused. "You''ve got guts, kid. I''ll give you that." Volk, still panting from the exertion, met Gozorm''al''s gaze with a steady look. "You said to use whatever means necessary," he replied, his voice hoarse but defiant. The other orcs, still in varying states of shock and amusement, began to cheer and shout, their earlier jests forgotten in the wake of Volk''s unexpected victory. "Looks like we''ve got a real Kaz''rogal here!" one of them shouted, slapping another orc on the back. "Maybe there''s more to this labor orc than we thought!" another called out, grinning broadly. Volk could hardly believe it himself. He had done it. He had finally landed a hit on Gozorm''al, and in the most unexpected way possible. As the realization settled in, he felt a surge of pride and determination. He had a long way to go, but this was the first step toward proving himself, not just as the Kaz''rogal, but as a true warrior of the tribe. Gozorm''al, still rubbing his sore spot, gave Volk a nod of approval. "Alright, Kaz''rogal," he said, his tone more respectful now. "Let''s see what else you''ve got." Chapter 16: Volk vs Gozormal 2/2 The clamor of the training ground reached a fever pitch as Volk and Gozorm''al squared off once more. The elder orc''s demeanor had shifted, the playful mockery replaced with a stern, unyielding focus. His movements were no longer leisurely or taunting; every swing of his sword now carried the weight of years of experience and raw power. The air hummed with tension, whoosh! as Gozorm''al''s blade cut through the air, barely missing Volk by a hair''s breadth. Thud! Volk dodged, feeling the impact of the missed strike vibrate through the ground beneath his feet. The watching orcs, seeing the change in Gozorm''al''s approach, began to shout out taunts, their voices loud and boisterous. "Oi, Gozorm''al! Did the kid hurt you where it counts?!" one of them yelled, a wide grin splitting his face. "You look like you''re actually trying now, old man!" Another orc joined in, slapping his knee in laughter. "Take it easy, Gozorm''al! You don''t need to lose your temper just because the little Kaz''rogal got one up on you!" "Careful, old orc! We don''t need you pulling a muscle!" another hollered, his voice full of mock concern. "The tribe can''t afford to lose its elder to a duel with a *labor orc*!" "Did that hit between the legs make you remember your youth, old man?!" a fourth orc called out, his laughter ringing through the air. "Maybe Volk should take it easy on you before you keel over!" "Come on, Gozorm''al!" yet another orc bellowed. "Don''t let a little tap down there ruin your day! We know you''re old, but don''t go dying on us from shame!" The crowd''s jibes fueled Gozorm''al''s growing anger, his face darkening with each taunt. His green skin was taking on a reddish hue, a sign of the fury building within him. Volk could see the shift in the elder orc''s posture¡ªhis strikes were harder, faster, each swing aimed with deadly intent. Clang! Clang! Their swords collided with a force that sent shivers up Volk''s arms, the impact of the blows rattling his bones. Despite the increased intensity, Volk felt a thrill of excitement coursing through him. The challenge was exhilarating. Every time he evaded a strike or parried an attack, he felt his confidence grow. Thud! Gozorm''al''s blade crashed into the ground where Volk had just been standing, sending a spray of dirt and debris into the air. Whoosh! Another swing, narrowly avoided, left Volk''s heart pounding in his chest. But Volk''s thoughts were not on survival alone. He realized that if he could master weapon combat, he wouldn''t have to rely on his radioactive form all the time. This was a chance to grow, to become a true warrior, and he was determined to seize it. "Attack me for real, Kaz''rogal!" Gozorm''al''s voice boomed across the training ground, filled with frustration. He was no longer interested in playing games. Volk didn''t hesitate. He repeated the trick that had worked before¡ªdriving his sword into the ground to kick up a cloud of dirt. Thum! The earth erupted in a dusty plume, obscuring Gozorm''al''s vision for a brief moment. Volk slid forward, aiming to strike low once more, but Gozorm''al was ready this time. With a grunt of effort, the old orc jumped back, narrowly avoiding Volk''s sword as it sliced through the air where his legs had been. Swish! The surrounding orcs erupted into cheers, their voices a cacophony of support for Volk. "That''s it, Volk! Show him what a real Kaz''rogal is made of!" one of them shouted, his fist pumping in the air. "He''s got the moves! None of the other Kaz''rogals had the guts to pull a trick like that!" another cheered, his voice full of admiration. "This year''s Kaz''rogal is a real warrior!" "Volk''s making history right here! Who cares if he''s from the labor caste? He''s showing all those other Kaz''rogals up!" a third orc added, his voice loud with pride. "Forget the past! Volk''s the only Kaz''rogal worth remembering!" a fourth orc bellowed, his words met with a roar of agreement from the crowd. The orcs were no longer just watching a duel; they were witnessing something extraordinary¡ªa labor orc proving himself not just as a worthy Kaz''rogal, but as a warrior who could outshine even the best of the tribe. Gozorm''al, however, was far from amused. His earlier irritation had now morphed into full-blown rage. The elder orc''s pride had been wounded, not just by Volk''s earlier strike but by the relentless taunts of his peers. His green skin was flushed, a deep red that spoke of a temper on the edge of exploding. Thud! Thud! His strikes grew heavier, the ground trembling with each blow. He was no longer pulling his punches¡ªhe intended to make Volk pay for the humiliation he had caused. Volk, for his part, was unfazed. Each of Gozorm''al''s attacks was met with a calm, calculated response. Clang! Clang! He deflected the blows with precision, his movements smooth and controlled. He could see the anger clouding Gozorm''al''s judgment, making his attacks more predictable, and Volk used this to his advantage. He danced around the elder orc, his steps light and agile, evading each swing with a grace that belied his size. Whoosh! Thud! The more Gozorm''al''s frustration grew, the more Volk seemed to thrive. He could feel the power of the fight coursing through him, sharpening his instincts and heightening his senses. And in the back of his mind, he knew that even if things went south, his Radioactive Form would kick in automatically, a safeguard against any real danger. This knowledge emboldened him, giving him the confidence to push Gozorm''al further. But as the fight wore on, the crowd began to notice the change in Gozorm''al. The elder orc''s usual composure was gone, replaced by a wild, almost desperate fury. His swings were erratic, his focus solely on landing a hit on Volk rather than fighting with his usual skill. The taunts from the crowd had done their job¡ªGozorm''al was losing control. "Uh-oh, the old man''s really losing it," one of the orcs muttered, the laughter in his voice fading. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Looks like Volk got under his skin for real," another added, his tone more cautious now. "Watch out, Volk! Gozorm''al''s gonna snap!" a third orc warned, his eyes wide with concern. The realization spread quickly among the onlookers. What had started as a routine sparring match had turned into something far more dangerous. Gozorm''al, the elder orc who had always been a pillar of strength and discipline, was on the verge of losing himself to his anger. But Volk, ever sharp, noticed this as well. He wasn''t just fighting a powerful orc now; he was fighting an orc on the edge, and that made him all the more dangerous. Yet Volk didn''t flinch. He knew he had to stay calm, to use Gozorm''al''s anger against him, and to prove once and for all that he was worthy of the title Kaz''rogal. As Gozorm''al raised his sword for another powerful swing, Volk made his move. Chapter 17: Stoppage As Volk prepared to launch his next attack, with his muscles tensed and eyes locked on Gozorm''al, the tension in the air was shattered by the sudden arrival of an unknown orc. Thud! A massive hand landed on Volk''s shoulder, pulling him back just as he was about to spring forward. "Hold up, kid!" the orc barked, his voice booming over the clamor of the training ground. Before Volk could respond, another orc stepped in, and then another, until several burly figures stood between him and the enraged Gozorm''al. The air hummed with tension as the crowd of orcs, who had moments ago been cheering and taunting, now shifted their tone. "Old man, calm yourself down!" one of the orcs called out, his voice a mix of amusement and caution. "You''re only supposed to strengthen to the fourth stage of Mag''Durotan! No need to go further!" "Yeah, Gozorm''al!" another orc added, laughing. "You''re training a young orc, not trying to kill him!" "Take it easy, old man!" a third voice chimed in, this one tinged with a teasing edge. "We know you''re strong, but there''s no need to show off by breaking the kid in half!" The orcs surrounding Gozorm''al continued to voice their playful admonishments, each one trying to diffuse the old orc''s anger with light-hearted jests. Despite their happy tones, it was clear that they were trying to prevent the situation from escalating further. Gozorm''al''s eyes still blazed with fury, but the chorus of voices seemed to be getting through to him. Thud! Thud! He finally lowered his weapon, his heavy breathing slowly beginning to calm, though the tension in his massive frame remained palpable. Meanwhile, another orc¡ªa warrior with a rugged, scarred face¡ªstepped up to Volk and pulled him away from the scene, laughing heartily. Ha! Ha! Ha! The sound was deep and booming, echoing across the training ground. "You really are something, kid!" the orc said, clapping Volk on the back with enough force to make him stagger. "Managed to piss off old man Gozorm''al that much, huh? No one''s ever done that before! You''re an animal!" Volk, still catching his breath and trying to process what had just happened, looked up at the orc in surprise. "But I think from their words, I almost got myself killed¡­" he muttered, the reality of how close he''d come to serious harm starting to sink in. The orc grinned, his sharp tusks gleaming in the light. "You almost did, alright!" he said, his tone a mix of admiration and amusement. "That old man was a peak stage of Brute Mending, one of the strongest powerhouses in this tribe. And his Grum-gar? It''s on the third level, which means his aura together with his physique at peak can be strengthened to a twenty-six stage Mag''Durotan powerhouse level! You''re lucky you didn''t get your head knocked clean off!" Volk''s eyes widened in shock. According to the memories of the Orc he had occupied, their peak physical prowess was called tenth stage Mag''Durotan. However, when they took on the mysterious "Grum-gar" transformation, their capabilities would undergo a complicated transformation. Rather than a direct increase from the Mag''Durotan''s ten, the Grum-gar form seemed to start from a base of two - half the original peak. But this base held untapped potential. By multiplying it by two, again and again, a powerful progression unfolded. First, two became four. Then four multiplied by two resulted in eight. Doubling eight yielded sixteen. Yet, this was not the end of the transformation. The Orc''s original Mag''Durotan form of ten was then added to the Grum-gar''s culminating sixteen, resulting in a staggering final tally of twenty-six. He knew Grum-gar form was strong, but he hadn''t realized just how powerful an orc would become who can turn into this. "What''s going to happen to me now?" he asked, a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice. The orc who had pulled him away laughed again, this time more softly. "Don''t worry, kid. He can''t turn into his fifth form freely, he was on decline due to old age and because of the hazardous magic particles on his body, maybe he can only morph his Grum-far form twice now. Plus, once the old man calms down, instead of making things harder for you, he''ll probably reward you." Seeing the disbelief on Volk''s face, the orc continued, "It''s true! It means you, Kaz''rogal, are strong. Strong enough to piss him off in combat. He might even give you something valuable." Volk raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "For real?" The orc nodded emphatically. "For real! He said it himself¡ªif a younger orc can manage to anger him during a competency test, it means the tribe is elevating, getting stronger. And he rewards anyone who can do that. That''s why everyone was so happy to see him angry. They know it means you''ve got potential." Volk was speechless. Orcs were that unpredictable? The body he occupied had grown up among them, but this was a side of his people he had never fully understood. It was both baffling and¡­ exhilarating. The respect that came from earning the ire of such a powerful elder¡ªit was more than he had ever expected. The orc grinned at Volk''s reaction. "Name''s Orzuk, by the way," he said, extending a hand. "Son of Grogthar, the tribe''s chief weapon master." His tone was proud but friendly, and Volk could see that this orc was someone of importance in the tribe. Volk grasped Orzuk''s hand firmly, his own grip still a bit shaky from the intense encounter. "Nice to meet you, Orzuk. I''m Volk Mog''ger¡­ a laborer," he said, the last part coming out almost automatically. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Orzuk laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made the other orcs nearby turn to see what was so amusing. "A laborer, huh? Not anymore, Volk! You''re the Kaz''rogal of this year! You should be proud of that. Only a few orcs in our tribe ever bear that title, and you''re one of them so you should stand proud. Add it to your name, Volk Mog''ger, the Kaz''rogal of this year!" Volk nodded, the weight of his new role settling on his shoulders. It was still strange to him, being seen as more than just a laborer, but he could feel the pride swelling in his chest at Orzuk''s words. He was Kaz''rogal, and it''s just starting to settle in his head now. That meant something¡ªsomething big. Before Volk could say anything more, Orzuk reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a small, glittering crystal. It shimmered with a faint, otherworldly light, catching Volk''s eye immediately. "Here," Orzuk said, handing the crystal to Volk. "You might need this. It''s a Mana Crystal. Use it wisely." Volk stared at the crystal, feeling the energy emanating from it. He had heard of these before¡ªrare and powerful, capable of restoring Mana to those who needed it. It was exactly what Solluha''r needed to recover faster, to regain her strength so they could¡­ No, he couldn''t let his thoughts drift there right now. He had to focus. "Thank you," Volk said, his voice sincere. He looked up at Orzuk, seeing a hint of approval in the older orc''s eyes. Just as Volk was about to pocket the crystal, he noticed Orzuk glancing back at him with a curious expression. "Don''t tell me you''re thinking of using that on your partner?" Orzuk''s tone was incredulous, and for a moment, Volk didn''t know how to respond. "Isn''t that normal?" Volk finally managed to say, his voice uncertain. In his limited experience within the tribe, it seemed like everything revolved around Mana and the strengthening of bonds through it. Why wouldn''t he use it on Solluha''r? Orzuk''s response was immediate and filled with laughter. "Ha! Ha! Ha! No, no, no!" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as his laughter subsided. "Seriously though, that Mana Crystal in your hand is empty. It''s meant for Wildling Mag''Durotan like you to use during tasks inside the clan. It''s not for anything special like entering catacombs or enhancing your partner." Volk blinked, absorbing the information. "Then¡­ what do I do with it?" Chapter 18: Butcher Meat Shop Orzuk smiled, though his expression was now more serious. "You''ll need to help out around the clan, contribute to the tribe. It''s part of your responsibility as Kaz''rogal. You might assist with weaponry, help with food distribution, or even help build towers for the elves. You can choose where you want to contribute¡ªthat''s your reward as Kaz''rogal. But remember, even though you have the title, your contribution needs to be consistent. The crystal records it all. If you get lazy, you won''t be given the same amount of Magic Crystal as others who are contributing." Volk was speechless. This was more complex than he had imagined. The title of Kaz''rogal came with privileges, but it also came with responsibilities that he hadn''t considered. Before he could ask more questions, Orzuk clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Volk. Don''t let that old man get to you," he said with a grin before turning and walking away, leaving Volk standing alone in the bustling area outside the training ground. As Orzuk''s figure disappeared into the crowd, Volk''s gaze shifted around the camp. This wasn''t the typical orc settlement he had expected. Instead of tents and crude huts, the tribe lived in solid houses made of brick, some towering high above the ground, while others were nestled closely together, forming narrow alleyways. Some parts of the camp were clean and orderly, with well-maintained roads and tidy homes, while others were dirty, with mud and refuse littering the streets. Towers loomed in the distance, their stone faces weathered by time, and Volk could see orcs moving about on them, standing watch or maintaining the structure. Volk began walking, taking in the sights and sounds of the camp. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, wood, and something else¡ªsomething metallic and sharp that he couldn''t quite place. His steps led him through a maze of medieval establishments. He passed by a blacksmith''s forge, where the rhythmic clang! clang! of hammer on metal echoed in the air. The blacksmith, a hulking orc with soot-stained green skin, was pounding away at a glowing blade, sparks flying with each strike. Volk considered stopping to help, imagining himself learning the craft, but something pulled him further along. Next, he passed a construction site where orcs were working together to build a new tower. The sound of stone grinding against stone, the creak of wooden beams being lifted into place, and the shouts of orcs coordinating their efforts filled the air. Volk thought about joining in, helping to erect a structure that would stand for generations, but somehow, his body kept walking. As he wandered, he passed by a food distribution area, where orcs were handing out baskets of vegetables and grains. The scene reminded him of how little he had actually eaten since arriving in this world. He thought about the meals he had back on Earth, the simple pleasure of eating, and he felt a pang of nostalgia. But the orcs here didn''t seem to eat much, relying more on Mana for sustenance. This fact only deepened his curiosity. Finally, Volk''s wandering brought him to a meat establishment. The sight made him stop in his tracks. The building was sturdier than the others, with thick wooden beams and a sign hanging over the door that depicted a slab of meat on a bone. Inside, the air was cooler, the temperature maintained by some kind of enchantment, and the scent of raw meat hung heavy in the air. Thunk! Thunk! The sound of cleavers hitting cutting boards echoed through the space. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The walls were lined with hooks from which hung large cuts of meat¡ªslabs of red flesh, some with bone still attached, others neatly trimmed and wrapped in parchment. It was a surprising sight in a tribe that didn''t seem to value eating much. As Volk stood there, taking it all in, an orc wearing a butcher''s apron approached him. The orc was large, even by orc standards, with broad shoulders and a belly that hinted at a life spent indulging in the goods he sold. His skin was a deep green, almost the color of moss, and his tusks were chipped and worn, suggesting a life of hard work. His eyes were sharp, though, glinting with intelligence and curiosity. "Looking to buy some meat?" the butcher asked, his voice rough like gravel. Volk shook his head, still trying to make sense of it all. "No, I¡­ I was just wondering why there''s meat here. I thought orcs didn''t eat much, just vegetables and such." The butcher laughed, a deep, booming sound that filled the small shop. "Ha! You must be new around here, kid. Orcs are omnivores, kid. We love meat, but it''s not easy to come by. These cuts come from the creatures in the forest, but you can''t just eat them raw. They''re saturated with hazardous magic particles, the same kind that''s out there beyond the tribe''s borders." Volk''s curiosity deepened. "Hazardous magic particles? You mean like the kind of magic that''s in the air?" The butcher nodded, wiping his hands on his apron. "Exactly. The forest outside is teeming with it. Everything out there¡ªplants, animals, the very air you breathe¡ªit''s all charged with those hazardous magic particles. It''s dangerous to eat these things without proper preparation. That''s where I come in. I cleanse the meat, making it safe for consumption. It takes time, but it''s worth it for a good meal." Volk was fascinated. The thought of eating meat again, something so familiar from his life on Earth, made his mouth water. But the idea of radioactive properties intrigued him even more. Could his body, altered by this world, handle the radiation? Or could it somehow absorb it, like how he harnessed the Mana in the air? After all, isn''t he a radioactive creature? As the butcher continued to explain the process, Volk''s vision suddenly blurred, and a familiar ding! rang in his ears. A notification appeared in front of his eyes, the words glowing softly in the dim light of the shop: | Ding! | Would you like to use the Radioactive Absorption ability? | Volk stood in the butcher''s shop, his curiosity still piqued by the radioactive properties of the meat hanging around him that he ignored the system screen in front of him. When he turned his attention to it, he saw the reward that was given to him last time but something inside him made him refuse it. He wasn''t here for power¡ªat least not right now. He wanted to understand this world, to learn more about the dangers lurking beyond the safety of the tribe''s borders. "Huh," Volk said, as if musing aloud. "So that''s the danger outside, huh? But¡­ can''t we find places with less of these hazardous magic particles? You know, better places for food?" The butcher, who had been wiping down a cleaver, paused and shook his head slowly. "It ain''t that simple, kid. You don''t get it yet. We''re hunted, see? By the two strongest rulers of this realm. Dark Witches and Red Warlocks. To them, we''re like their favorite prey. Even if we found somewhere without hazardous magic particles, it wouldn''t matter. Those bastards would track us down eventually. The only places they avoid are the ones like this¡ªsaturated with radioactive energy. So, we''ve got no choice but to stay in these dangerous areas. Keeps us hidden, keeps us alive¡­ for a while, at least." Chapter 19: Radioactive Absorption Volk felt a chill run down his spine. The butcher''s tone was matter-of-fact, almost resigned, as if he''d long since accepted the tribe''s fate. "The other tribes," Volk asked, trying to understand, "the hornless ones scattered across the land¡­ they''re living in radioactive zones too?" The butcher nodded. "You bet. It''s the only way to avoid being hunted down one by one. I''ve seen it happen, kid. I''ve lived it. Back before we moved here, I was part of a smaller tribe. We were picked off like flies." Volk noticed the butcher''s grip tighten on the cleaver as he spoke, his knuckles whitening beneath the green of his skin. The old orc took a deep breath, as if bracing himself, and then began to recount his story. "Back then, we lived in a place far from here. The land was fertile, the air was clean¡ªno hazardous magic particles, nothing like that. It was perfect¡­ too perfect. We thought we were safe, thought we could live in peace. But then they came. The Dark Witches and Red Warlocks." The butcher''s voice took on a darker, haunted tone as he continued, his words heavy with the weight of old memories. "They came at night, like shadows, creeping into our camp. We didn''t even hear them until it was too late. They slaughtered the elders first, the ones who knew the most about protecting the tribe. They didn''t even bother with spells¡ªthey just cut them down, one by one." Volk could see the pain etched into the butcher''s face, the deep lines that spoke of loss and despair. But the old orc didn''t stop, couldn''t stop. The memories flowed from him like a river, unstoppable and raw. "We tried to fight back, but what could we do? They were too powerful, their magic too strong. We lost so many that night. My brother¡­ my sister¡­ they didn''t make it. I can still hear their screams sometimes, when I close my eyes." The butcher''s hands trembled as he wiped them on his apron, his gaze distant as he relived the horrors of that night. "We had no choice but to run. We scattered, hid in the forests, in caves, anywhere we thought they couldn''t find us. But it didn''t matter. They hunted us down, one by one. Those who were caught¡­ well, you don''t want to know what they did to them." Volk swallowed hard, his throat tight with sympathy. He couldn''t imagine the terror the butcher must have felt, the helplessness of watching his tribe be torn apart. "How did you survive?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The butcher let out a bitter laugh. "Survive? I don''t know if I''d call it that. I just¡­ kept moving, kept hiding. Eventually, I found my way to this place, to the Orc tribe. They took me in, gave me a purpose. But I never forgot what happened. None of us did." The butcher finally looked up at Volk, his eyes hard with resolve. "That''s why we stay in these radioactive zones. It''s dangerous, sure, but it''s safer than the alternative. Out there, beyond the tribe''s borders, it''s a different kind of hell." Volk nodded, finally understanding the tribe''s precarious position. The butcher''s story had shed light on the harsh realities of this world, and the sacrifices the tribe had made to survive. He felt a deep respect for the orcs who had endured so much, who had fought tooth and nail just to keep their people alive. The butcher seemed to shake off his dark memories, his tone softening as he returned to the present. "But enough about that. You''re here to take responsibility, right?" Volk nodded again, more determined than ever. "Yeah. I want to help." The butcher grinned, the tension easing from his face. "Good. There''s not much to do here but chop meat and store it until the hazardous magic particles withers away. It takes time, but it''s necessary." Volk hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I can do that." The butcher clapped him on the shoulder. "Name''s Grak''thor, by the way. Now, let''s get to work. First thing''s first¡ªcarry some of these big slabs inside. But before that, check the meat. Make sure it''s not too fresh, or it''ll be too dangerous to handle." Volk followed Grak''thor into the back of the shop, where the air was even colder, the smell of meat was more pungent. The walls were lined with racks holding various cuts, each one labeled with a strange script that Volk couldn''t read. Grak''thor moved to a table where a large chunk of meat lay, his cleaver at the ready. "Just make sure you don''t use your bare hands, alright? There''s a handle on the side of each slab for a reason." Volk nodded, though he couldn''t help but feel a strange pull as he approached the meat. His hand reached out, and without thinking, he grabbed the slab barehanded. He could feel the weight of it, the coldness seeping into his skin. But he was focused on something else¡ªthe strange tingling sensation that ran up his arm, the familiar buzz of his radioactive absorption ability kicking in. Grak''thor turned to look at Volk just as he was about to start chopping. His eyes widened in shock as he saw what was happening. "No! Don''t use your hands¡ª" His words died in his throat as he saw something even more shocking. Volk didn''t notice at first, but as he lifted the meat, he saw it¡ªa thin stream of energy, like a snake made of green light, slithering from the meat and into his hand. It twisted and coiled, wrapping around his fingers before disappearing into his skin. The sensation was strange, almost ticklish, but not unpleasant. He watched in stunned silence as the hazardous magic particles flowed into him, the meat''s once vibrant color dulling slightly as it lost its radioactive charge. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Grak''thor was frozen in place, his mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. "Wh-what¡­ what the¡­ WHAAAAAAAT?" His voice was a mixture of shock and confusion, his eyes glued to the scene before him. He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached out, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "The hazardous magic particles¡­ it''s¡­ it''s going into your hand!" His voice rose in pitch, his disbelief turning into something bordering on panic. "How¡­ How is this even possible? I''ve never seen anything like this in all my years!" Volk didn''t know what to say, his mind racing as he felt the last of the hazardous magic particles seep into his body. He flexed his fingers, feeling a new kind of energy coursing through him, different from the regular Mana he had absorbed before. It was rawer, more potent, and yet it didn''t harm him. If anything, he felt stronger. Grak''thor was still staring at him, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to form words. "WHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATT!!?" The sound echoed through the shop, bouncing off the stone walls and reverberating in the enclosed space. The butcher scrambled over to Volk, grabbing his hands and inspecting them frantically. "Where did it go? The hazardous magic particles¡­ where is it? Are you¡­ are you okay? You should be glowing green or something! How¡­ how are you not dead?" Volk gently pulled his hands away, trying to calm the panicked orc. "Grak''thor, relax. It''s my ability. I can absorb hazardous magic particles. It''s¡­ it''s normal for me." Grak''thor''s eyes widened even further, his face going from shock to something even more extreme. His mouth opened, but no sound came out for a moment as he stared at Volk, processing the revelation. When he finally spoke, his voice was a whisper, almost reverent. "You¡­ you can absorb hazardous magic particles? That''s¡­ that''s¡­" Suddenly, Grak''thor went mute, making the room filled with an awkward, tense quiet silence. His expression was unreadable, a mix of awe, fear, and something else that Volk couldn''t quite place. The silence stretched on, the only sound the faint drip of water from somewhere deeper in the shop. Without warning, Grak''thor turned and hurried into the back room, leaving Volk standing there, unsure of what to do. Chapter 20: No Shaman, only smash! Volk waited. The shop was eerily quiet, save for the faint creaking of the wooden beams and the soft rustle of hanging meats swaying in the slight draft. Then, without warning, a system notification flashed before his eyes. | Ding! | Nuclear Devastation Strike charging (1/9) | Volk blinked in surprise, his mind racing. "Nine?" he muttered to himself. He hadn''t seen that number before. His thoughts drifted to Solluha''r, the beautiful elven witch he had been with the night before. Could their passionate union have somehow influenced her abilities, making him benefit too? It made sense, in a way. If their bond had strengthened her Mana manipulation, it wasn''t too far-fetched to think it might have boosted his powers as well. "One in nine¡­ does that mean I could actually use this Nuclear Devastation Botanical Clap nine times?" Volk wondered aloud. He still has no idea what this is, he couldn''t get out to try it in secret yet. He was curious¡ªno, he was desperate to know what this Nuclear Devastation Botanical Clap was and the number of nine representing it. What is the Nuclear Devastation Clap even, what more Botanical added to it? What does this number represent? Suddenly, the sound of footsteps broke through his thoughts. Volk looked up just in time to see Grak''thor returning, and his eyes widened in shock. The old orc was carrying a massive horn-like trumpet, its size dwarfing the stout butcher''s frame. Grak''thor''s expression was one of determination, his steps quick and purposeful as he prepared to blow into the instrument. "Wait!" Volk shouted, raising a hand to stop him. Grak''thor halted in his tracks, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He looked at Volk, clearly puzzled by the interruption, as if silently asking, "Why?" Volk took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "Listen," he began, his tone serious. "I know that shamans are rare, that it''s uncommon for an orc to possess magical abilities. And I also know that if I''m seen as one, if I become a shaman, I''ll be protected. But that''s not what I want, Grak''thor." The butcher''s brows furrowed as Volk continued. "I don''t want to be shielded. I want to be in the thick of the fight. I want to face danger head-on, to grow stronger with every battle. How am I supposed to do that if I''m stuck in a shaman''s hut, kept safe and away from the front lines? That''s not who I am. Sir Grak''thor, I am Grum-gar awakened." Grak''thor stared at him for a long moment, his eyes boring into Volk''s as if trying to read his very soul. Eventually, the silence stretched, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them. Finally, Grak''thor sighed heavily, lowering the trumpet. "Alright, alright," Grak''thor said, his voice a mix of resignation and respect. "You''re a Grum-gar awakener, a special kind of warrior in our tribe. Not every orc has that kind of power, and now I understand why you awakened it. You have the heart of a fighter. If I called everyone out now, I''d be destroying what you are¡ªwhat you were meant to be." Volk felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had been afraid that Grak''thor wouldn''t understand, that the old orc would blow the trumpet anyway, summoning the entire tribe to witness his abilities. But Grak''thor got it. He understood Volk''s desire to remain on the battlefield, to carve his own path through blood and sweat. As Grak''thor turned to go back inside, he paused, a thought seeming to strike his head with an idea. He turned back to Volk, with a curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "Can you remove all the hazardous magic particles inside a body?" Volk hesitated, unsure. "I¡­ I don''t know. I can try." Grak''thor extended his wrist toward Volk, who took it carefully. He focused, trying to activate his ability, but nothing happened. The seconds ticked by, the tension growing until finally, Grak''thor shook his head and pulled his hand away. "Forget it," Grak''thor muttered, more to himself than to Volk. "It only works with the meat." But then, his eyes lit up with a sudden thought. "But if it only works with the meat¡­ does that mean we could enjoy meat without hazardous magic particles? After all, doesn''t that hazard make the taste unfavorable?" Volk''s eyes widened in realization. Grak''thor was right! What if they could actually eat the meat without any of the dangerous magic? The thought was thrilling, not just because it would make the food safer, but because Volk was eager to experience what real orcish meat might taste like, untainted by the hazardous magic particles. "We should cook it!" Volk suggested, his voice filled with excitement. Grak''thor grinned. Without wasting a moment, they set to work. They selected a few choice cuts of meat, now devoid of the hazardous particles thanks to Volk''s abilities. Grak''thor led the way to a fire pit just outside the shop, where they began to gather wood and kindling. The orcish butcher moved with surprising speed and precision, his years of experience evident in the way he expertly prepared the fire. As the flames crackled to life, they positioned the meat over the heat, letting it cook slowly, allowing the juices to flow and the aroma to fill the air. The scent was intoxicating, rich and savory, unlike anything Volk had ever smelled before. His mouth watered in anticipation, his hunger growing with each passing moment. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Grak''thor stood beside him, tending to the fire, a look of contentment on his face. "This reminds me of the old days," he said, his voice wistful. "Back before everything went to hell. We used to have feasts like this all the time, back when meat was just meat, and we didn''t have to worry about all this magic nonsense." Volk nodded, his thoughts drifting to his own past, to the life he had lived before finding himself in this strange world. It felt like a lifetime ago, a distant memory that was fading with each new experience he had here. As the meat cooked, they both waited with bated breath. The minutes felt like hours, they were becoming eager and eager. And finally, after a while, the meat was done, the skin charred just right, and it seems the inside were cooked to perfection. Grak''thor carefully removed the meat from the fire, setting it on a wooden slab. The juices sizzled as they dripped onto the hot surface, the smell making Volk''s stomach growl in response. Grak''thor handed Volk a piece, and without hesitation, Volk took a bite. The flavor exploded in his mouth, rich and succulent, with a depth he hadn''t expected. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted before¡ªboth familiar and entirely new. The absence of the hazardous magic particles made the meat taste pure, untainted, and it was a revelation. Every bite was a new experience, each one better than the last. Grak''thor watched him with a grin, clearly pleased with Volk''s reaction. "Good, isn''t it?" Volk nodded, unable to speak through his full mouth. He hadn''t realized how much he had missed the simple pleasure of eating until now. This was more than just a meal¡ªit was a celebration, a moment of shared joy in a world filled with danger and uncertainty. Chapter 21: Grakthors gift As the last bit of meat disappeared from the fire, Volk wiped his mouth, while his thoughts drifted as the flavors lingered on his tongue. The fire crackled softly in front of him, with its embers glowing with a fading warmth that matched the quiet satisfaction in Volk''s heart. Suddenly, when he tried to hold another meat and use absorption to it, he paused. And then he pressed to absorb again, but it didn''t work. "I can''t absorb hazardous magic particles anymore?" he muttered, the question slipping out almost involuntarily. His brow furrowed as he tried to sense the flow of magic around him, but there was nothing. It was as if his ability had simply switched off. Grak''thor, who had been equally absorbed in the aftermath of their feast, looked up at Volk''s question. His lips twitched, and then he burst into a hearty laugh, the sound rolling out like thunder through the still air. "HA-HA-HA! Don''t you worry about that, lad!" Grak''thor''s voice boomed, shaking the very walls of the butcher shop. "Everything has its limits. You''ve done a lot of absorbing today, and even your power needs a break! But trust me, come tomorrow, you''ll be back at it, soaking up all that hazardous magic like a sponge." Volk''s face relaxed, though a hint of worry still lingered. But Grak''thor''s infectious laugh soon banished those concerns, and Volk found himself grinning along with the old orc. It was reassuring, knowing that even his abilities needed time to recharge. "Besides," Grak''thor continued, reaching for a clean piece of animal skin, its surface unmarred by any trace of hazardous magic particles, "that was a great eating ceremony! Here, take this to your partner too." Volk''s smile widened, and he accepted the offering gratefully. "Thanks for not forgetting, Grak''thor," he said, his voice warm with appreciation. "HA-HA-HA! How could I forget? You and your partner deserve to enjoy this feast too." Grak''thor''s laughter rumbled out again, his eyes twinkling with mirth. But then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he paused, his expression growing more serious. "Wait here," he said abruptly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Volk''s eyes widened in surprise as Grak''thor stood up and disappeared into the back of the shop. He was left holding the animal skin with the cooked meat, with the warmth of the fire in front of him contrasting with the cool night air. He poked at the embers absentmindedly, his mind buzzing with curiosity. What was Grak''thor up to now? The minutes stretched on, and just as Volk began to wonder if the old orc had forgotten about him, Grak''thor reappeared. Volk''s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw what the butcher was holding. In Grak''thor''s arms was a large, intricately carved wooden box, its surface gleaming faintly in the firelight. But it wasn''t the box itself that caught Volk''s attention¡ªit was the faint, magical aura emanating from within it. Grak''thor set the box down carefully before Volk, a solemn expression on his face. "This is a gift for you, Volk," he said, his voice carrying a weight of significance. "You''ve made me remember the old times, made me taste meat without hazardous magic particles for the first time in ages. This is my way of saying thank you." Volk''s eyes flicked from the box to Grak''thor, and back again. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. Grak''thor nodded, his gaze distant as if he were seeing something far away. "Yes, I''m sure. These crystals¡­" He trailed off, his voice growing softer. "These crystals are my thanks to you and to the tribe''s future. They''ve been with me for a long time, but now¡­ now I want you to have them." Volk carefully opened the box, and his breath caught in his throat. Inside were various crystals, each one glowing with a faint, otherworldly light. The colors were mesmerizing, ranging from deep blues and vibrant greens to fiery reds and soothing purples. .Each crystal seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a tangible sense of power radiating from them. Grak''thor''s voice, now laced with nostalgia, drew Volk''s attention back to the old orc. "I had a partner once," Grak''thor began, his eyes misting over as memories flooded back. "She was everything to me. Strong, fierce, and beautiful¡ªjust like the mountains that surrounded our old tribe. We were young then, full of life and dreams of a future together." Volk listened intently, sensing that this was a story Grak''thor hadn''t shared with anyone in a long time. The old orc''s voice was thick with emotion, each word heavy with the weight of the past. "We used to walk the forests together," Grak''thor continued, his gaze distant. "Hunting, gathering, living off the land. Those were the good times¡ªtimes I thought would last forever. But¡­ nothing ever does, does it?" He let out a long, sorrowful sigh, the sound echoing through the quiet night. "The dark days came, and we lost everything. Our tribe¡­ our home¡­ and her. She was taken from me by those damn Dark Witches and Red Warlocks. I couldn''t protect her, couldn''t save her¡­" The pain in Grak''thor''s voice was palpable, and Volk felt a pang of sympathy for the old orc. He had seen a lot of loss before, but this¡­ this was one of those who had it rough. Like a wound that had never fully healed, or a scar that still aches after all these years. "After she was gone, I couldn''t bear to stay in our destroyed village. I wandered for a long time, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat could fill the void she left behind. But nothing ever did. Eventually, I found myself here, in this tribe, far from everything I once knew. I''ve been here ever since, trying to forget, trying to move on." Grak''thor paused, his eyes closing as he took a deep, shuddering breath. "But you never really move on, do you? You just¡­ learn to live with it. And you try to make the best of what you have left." He looked at Volk then, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I never took another partner after her. I couldn''t. It wouldn''t have been fair to them¡ªto be with someone who could never love them fully. So I dedicated myself to the tribe, to making sure they had what they needed to survive." Grak''thor gestured to the crystals in the box. "These crystals¡­ they''re the last of what I have from those days. I''ve kept them all these years, not knowing what to do with them. But now¡­ now I want you to have them, Volk. You''re young, and you have your whole life ahead of you. Use them well, and enjoy every moment with your partner. Don''t make the same mistake I did." Volk swallowed hard, the weight of Grak''thor''s words settling heavily on his shoulders. "Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper. Grak''thor nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yes. I don''t have a partner in this tribe, Volk. My time has passed. But you¡­ you still have a chance. Take these crystals and use them. Enjoy your youth, and the times of peace while you can." sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk carefully closed the box, his heart full of gratitude and respect for the old orc. "Alright," he said softly. "If you insist." As he stood up to leave, Grak''thor suddenly asked, "Volk¡­ what is your Grum-gar form?" Volk paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. The question hung in the air, heavy with anticipation. Slowly, Volk turned back to face Grak''thor, the firelight casting long shadows across his face. "My Grum-gar form¡­" He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. His Grum-gar form or his Radioactive form was something he hadn''t fully explored yet, something that held both power and mystery. But as he looked into Grak''thor''s eyes, he realized that the old orc wasn''t just asking out of curiosity¡ªhe was asking out of respect, out of a need to understand the warrior who had rekindled his old memories and given him a reason to hope again. Chapter 22: Sudden announcement As he turned to face the old orc, the crackling of the fire behind him seemed to grow louder, the warmth of the flames reaching out as if urging him to stay. "Why do you need to know?" Volk asked, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. He wasn''t sure why Grak''thor was so interested in his Grum-gar form. It seemed a strange question, especially after everything they had just discussed. Grak''thor''s expression grew serious, the light-hearted warmth from their earlier conversation fading away like the dying embers in the hearth. He motioned for Volk to sit down, and after a moment''s hesitation, Volk complied, sitting cross-legged by the fire. "There''s a story you need to hear, Volk," Grak''thor began, his voice deep and somber. "The story of the Grum-gar form." The crackle of the fire filled the silence that followed, each pop and sizzle a reminder of the tension in the room. Grak''thor''s eyes were distant, as if he were looking back through the ages, seeing the events he was about to describe. "Hornless Orcs like us, we were once gentle creatures, nothing like the brutish Ogres who roam the lands. We lived in harmony with nature, our strength used not for war, but for building and crafting. We were builders, healers, and caretakers of the land." The fire popped loudly, *CRACK!* echoing Grak''thor''s words, the flames dance as if telling their own story. "But that all changed when the hunts began," Grak''thor continued, his voice darkening. "We were hunted, one by one, by the Dark Witches and Red Warlocks. They saw our gentleness as weakness, our peaceful nature as an invitation to conquer. We were easy prey, and many of our kin were slaughtered." Volk listened intently, the weight of the story sinking into him. He could almost see the past unfolding before him¡ªthe peaceful Orcs living in harmony, only to be torn apart by merciless hunters. The thought of his people being so vulnerable, so easily preyed upon, stirred something deep within him. "And then," Grak''thor''s voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the *HISS* of the fire, "some of us ate the flesh of an Ogre." Volk''s eyes widened in shock, the idea of consuming such a creature repugnant to him. But Grak''thor continued before he could voice his disgust. "It was in desperation, you see. Those who ate the flesh of an Ogre didn''t do it for power or glory¡ªthey did it to survive. And what they gained from that act was something beyond their control: the Grum-gar form." The fire blazed brighter for a moment, sending a shower of sparks into the air with a *WHOOSH*, as if reacting to the weight of Grak''thor''s words. "The Grum-gar form is an extremely powerful magic, one that turns a normal Orc into something more, something monstrous. In that form, no one can defeat them. They become unstoppable, their strength and rage unmatched by any other creature." Volk felt a chill run down his spine at the thought. He had seen the raw power of his own transformation, but this¡­ this sounded like something far more dangerous. "But there is a terrible price," Grak''thor continued, his voice filled with sorrow. "The Grum-gar form is wild, uncontrollable. It consumes the Orc, mind and body. And it makes us vulnerable¡ªvulnerable to manipulation, to madness, to losing ourselves entirely." Volk''s breath caught in his throat, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend the full implications of what Grak''thor was saying. The power of the Grum-gar form sounded like both a gift and a curse, one that could save his people or destroy them. "Let me give you some examples," Grak''thor said, leaning forward, his voice growing more intense. "There are different personalities of the Grum-gar form, each with its own conditions and dangers." He held up one finger, "The first is the Berserker. When an Orc enters this form, they become consumed by rage. Their strength multiplies tenfold, but they lose all sense of friend and foe. They attack everything in sight, unable to distinguish between enemy and ally. The Berserker is unstoppable, but they are also uncontrollable. If they stay in this form too long, they may never return to their original self." Grak''thor held up a second finger, "The second is the Shadow. This form grants an Orc incredible stealth and agility. They can move through the darkness like a ghost, unseen and unheard. But the Shadow form brings with it a creeping paranoia, a fear of the light, a fear of being seen. Those who take this form often become so consumed by their own fears that they turn on their own kin, seeing enemies where there are none." A third finger joined the others, "The third is the Beast. In this form, an Orc''s physical body transforms into something more akin to an animal. Their senses are heightened, their strength and speed far beyond that of any normal Orc. But with this power comes a loss of humanity. The Beast form strips away the mind, leaving only the instincts of a wild animal. Many who take this form never return to being Orcs¡ªthey live out the rest of their days as feral creatures." Finally, Grak''thor held up a fourth finger, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "And then there is the Wraith. The Wraith form grants incredible magical abilities, allowing an Orc to manipulate the very essence of the world around them. But the power of the Wraith comes at a terrible cost¡ªtheir connection to the physical world begins to fade. They become like ghosts, able to pass through solid objects, but unable to touch or interact with the world. In time, they lose all sense of reality, drifting into a state of eternal solitude, unable to return to their physical form." The room was silent save for the *CRACKLE* and *POP* of the fire. Volk felt a knot of fear tightening in his chest. The Grum-gar form wasn''t just a source of power¡ªit was a curse, one that could destroy him if he wasn''t careful. "And there''s more," Grak''thor said, his voice heavy with dread. "As an Orc ages, the Grum-gar form becomes harder to control. The older we get, the more we are drawn into that form, until eventually, we can''t change back. We lose ourselves entirely, becoming monsters in both mind and body." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest. He had never considered the long-term consequences of his powers. The idea that he could one day lose control, become a monster, was terrifying. But then Grak''thor''s words took an even darker turn. "The only way to combat this decline," Grak''thor continued, "is to improve your rank as a Mag''Durotan. This won''t stop the decline, but it will slow it down. It gives us more time¡ªtime to prepare, to find a way to live with the curse." Volk''s mind reeled. The realization that no matter what he did, the Grum-gar form would eventually consume him, was like a blow to the gut. He had always thought of his powers as a gift, a way to protect those he cared about. But now¡­ now he saw them for what they really were¡ªa ticking time bomb. "But wait¡­" Volk began, his voice trembling slightly. "My Grum-gar form¡­ it''s different." Grak''thor''s eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Different? How?" Volk took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "The higher my power level rises, the longer I can stay in my Grum-gar form. It''s as if my form is tied to my power, not to time." Grak''thor''s eyes widened in surprise. "That''s¡­ that''s unheard of," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Most Orcs can only delay the inevitable, not extend it." Volk''s mind raced as he tried to piece together the puzzle. "Maybe it''s because my form isn''t really a Grum-gar form," he muttered to himself. "Maybe it''s something else¡­ something created by the system." A long sigh of relief escaped Volk''s lips as the weight of the revelation began to lift. Whatever his form was, it seemed to be different from the cursed Grum-gar forms that plagued his kin. Maybe¡­ just maybe, he was safe from the fate that awaited the others. But before he could dwell on this further, a sudden phenomenon interrupted his thoughts. A brilliant transparent laser shot up from the ground, piercing the sky with a ZAP! and lighting up the night like a beacon. "What is that?" Volk exclaimed, his eyes widening as he stared at the strange sight. Grak''thor''s expression turned grim. "That''s a catacomb," he said, his voice tense. "A catacomb has just surfaced nearby." "A catacomb?" Volk asked, still staring at the green light. "What does that mean?" "It means there are crystals to be found," Grak''thor replied, already on his feet. "And it means we need to hurry. Let''s go!" S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Without another word, Volk and Grak''thor sprinted towards the source of the light. The ground shook beneath their feet with a THUD-THUD-THUD, the air filled with the electric hum of magic. Chapter 23: Telling Solluhar As the vibrant atmosphere of the gathering quieted, a voice pierced through the air like a bell, clear and resonant. "Attention, all warriors of the tribe!" The voice belonged to a female elf, her tone was soft and feminine but it was also commanding and filled with the weight of responsibility. "The wandering Drugan Warriors have discovered a dungeon!" A murmur rippled through the crowd, the sound growing like a low hum as the orcs and elves exchanged glances. The news was electrifying, the kind of discovery that stirred both fear and excitement. But the voice wasn''t done. "It was no easy task," the woman continued, her voice carrying a tone of pride and exhaustion. "They faced numerous challenges, fought against the elements, and scoured every inch of the land until they finally found it. This dungeon is not for the faint of heart, and only those who have reached the third to fifth stages of the Mag''Durotan may enter!" Volk''s heart thudded in his chest, THUMP-THUMP, the rhythmic pounding almost drowning out the rest of the woman''s words. The Mag''Durotan stages three to five. He was only in the second stage, yet the thought of entering that dungeon tomorrow stirred something deep within him¡ªa gnawing temptation. "Those who wish to enter," the woman continued, "must come prepared tomorrow. This will not be a simple test of strength. It will be a trial of your very will and soul. Only the worthy will survive!" Volk''s mind raced. He could feel the pull of the dungeon, like a magnet drawing him closer. The thought of the crystals in his possession only fueled his desire. But he knew he wasn''t ready¡ªhe was only at the second stage. Suddenly, Grak''thor''s deep, knowing voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "You''re thinking about it, aren''t you?" Volk turned to face the elder orc, his thoughts betrayed by the look on his face. Grak''thor''s lips curled into a knowing grin. "You want to enter that dungeon, don''t you?" Grak''thor said with a chuckle, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and understanding. "You can do it tomorrow. Use the crystals that I gave you, and then, when you''re inside, use it as a chance to gather even more crystals for your partner." Volk''s eyes widened in surprise. How did Grak''thor know exactly what he was thinking? He glanced down at his right hand, where the crystals lay, their smooth surfaces glinting in the firelight. "Okay," Volk finally said, his voice resolute. The idea of entering the dungeon tomorrow filled him with a mixture of fear and anticipation, but Grak''thor''s words gave him the push he needed. Grak''thor nodded approvingly. "Good. And when you return, we''ll take a look at your Grum-gar form. It''s important that you understand it fully." Volk nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of purpose settling within his head. Grak''thor then waved him off with a hand, a gesture that was both dismissive and encouraging. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Go on," Grak''thor said with a grin. "Go to your partner. She''s waiting for you." Volk didn''t need to be told twice. He turned and left the gathering, his footsteps THUD-THUD-THUD against the dirt as he made his way back to his tower. The journey back was quick, his mind focused on what lay ahead. When he reached the tower, he didn''t hesitate. With a BAM, he slammed the door open, the wooden structure groaning under the force. The sudden noise echoed through the empty halls, startling Solluha''r, who had been sitting quietly in the room. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Volk?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and concern. Volk''s intense expression softened as he saw her startled reaction. He hadn''t meant to scare her. An apologetic look crossed his face as he took a step forward. "Have you eaten already?" he asked, his tone gentler now. Solluha''r''s eyes flickered to the bundle in his hand, the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air. She shook her head slowly, her expression one of confusion. "I haven''t eaten for a year now," she said and her tone of voice was soft like it was natural. Volk blinked, taken aback by her response. Then he remembered¡ªshe was an elf. The thought left him speechless for a moment. How could he have forgotten something so important? Regaining his composure, Volk held out the bundle towards her. "Look, I have meat here," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. He unwrapped the bundle, revealing the perfectly cooked meat, its scent rich and enticing. Solluha''r''s eyes widened in shock as she stared at the meat. She was incredibly sensitive to mana, and what she sensed¡ªor rather, didn''t sense¡ªleft her stunned. "Volk¡­ how did you manage this?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "There''s no trace of hazardous magic particles on this meat. Was it thoroughly cleaned?" Volk hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He could see the genuine astonishment in her eyes, and it made him nervous. Solluha''r continued, her voice gaining momentum as she recalled her studies. "When I was still learning from the elder elves, they told us about the dangers of hazardous magic particles in meat. They spoke of countless attempts to cleanse it, using various spells and methods. They even explained why there were so many labor orcs in the offsprings¡ªbecause the food they consumed was often contaminated, and it was nearly impossible to remove all the hazardous particles. And now, you''re telling me this meat is completely free of them?" Her words spilled out like a torrent, her shock evident with every sentence. Volk could barely keep up. Should he tell her the truth? Should he admit that it wasn''t just a simple cleaning process, but something more? Would it be a problem if he became a shaman? Solluha''r, sensing his hesitation, placed a hand on his arm. Her touch was gentle, reassuring. "Volk," she said softly, her voice a calming presence in the whirlwind of his thoughts, "you don''t have to hide anything from me. I won''t tell anyone." Volk looked into her eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She wasn''t just saying this out of curiosity¡ªshe genuinely wanted to help him, to support him. Taking a deep breath, Volk finally spoke. "I don''t want to be a shaman," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Solluha''r''s reaction was one of shock, her eyes widening at his confession. But then, as the meaning of his words sank in, she nodded slowly. "I see," she said, her tone thoughtful. "I remember you awakened the Orc magic ability, the Grum-gar form. If you became a shaman, it could be detrimental¡ªmaybe even a disadvantage. I understand why you wouldn''t want that." Volk let out a sigh of relief, the tension that had been building in his chest finally releasing. He hadn''t realized just how much he needed her understanding, her acceptance. "There''s more," he said after a moment, his voice steady now. "I have the ability to absorb hazardous magic particles. That''s how I cleaned the meat." Solluha''r looked at him, her expression one of awe and understanding. She nodded, with her lips curving into a gentle smile. "For real?" With her eyes gleaming, "If that''s the case, that''s an incredible gift, Volk. And I''m glad you shared it with me. We''ll figure out what it means together. But a pity, we don''t have magic crystals¡­" Chapter 24: Absorption Ability Volk''s heart thudded with excitement as he revealed the magic crystals clutched in his other hand. Solluha''r, who had been sitting quietly, her earlier look of helplessness fading, suddenly bolted upright. Her eyes widened to the size of full moons, and before she could stop herself, she let out an astonished cry, "Whaaaaaat!?" S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The exclamation echoed through the room, bouncing off the stone walls like a ricocheting arrow. Realizing how loud she had been, Solluha''r''s face flushed a deep crimson. She slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes darting away in embarrassment. "I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to shout," she stammered, her voice now a shy murmur. Volk couldn''t help but chuckle at her reaction, a warm smile spreading across his face. Solluha''r, still blushing furiously, slowly lowered her hands from her mouth, her curiosity getting the better of her. "H-how¡­ how did you get those?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "It''s way too early for you to have magic crystals. Usually, an orc can''t get one until at least three months have passed¡­ And you¡­ you got them in just one day?" Her words came out in a rush, stumbling over themselves as her emotions tangled together in a mixture of embarrassment, pride, and awe. Volk''s smile widened as he leaned in closer, his voice teasing. "Guess how?" Solluha''r''s cheeks flamed even redder as she caught the playful glint in his eyes. He was enjoying this¡ªenjoying her confusion, her flustered state. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Volk scooped her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground with ease. "Ah!" she gasped, her body trembling with a mix of surprise and excitement. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to steady herself. But despite her shock, she managed to stammer out, "It¡­ it was Grak''thor, wasn''t it?" Volk froze, his eyes widening in shock. "How did you know that?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine surprise. Solluha''r, still nestled in his arms, took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "It''s¡­ it''s because of your smell," she began hesitantly, her words spilling out in a rush. "And the meat¡­ The herbivore meat you brought back was a special kind and only in the part of the market where they sell those kinds of meat and one of them was his shop. Plus, Grak''thor is the only butcher in the meat area who would have those kinds of crystals because he¡­ he refused to have a partner. He''s the only one who does that because he came from a hazardless tribe, one that was destroyed long ago. When you gave him that meat, it must have reminded him of his old tribe, of everything he lost. That''s why he gave you the crystals¡ªout of gratitude." Solluha''r''s voice trembled as she spoke, her emotions laid bare. Her face was a deep shade of red, her embarrassment evident as she revealed everything she had pieced together. She had always been the informative one, the one who knew more than anyone else. But in the past, this knowledge had driven people away, made them wary of her. Her classmates had been intimidated by her, and even her former lover, Luk''Tar, had been scared off by how much she knew. She had seen that look of fear in their eyes, that sense of alienation. As she finished explaining, Solluha''r hesitantly looked up at Volk, bracing herself for that same reaction, for that familiar look of fear or discomfort. But what she saw instead left her breathless. Volk''s face wasn''t filled with fear or unease¡ªit was filled with pride. His eyes gleamed with joy, a proud light shining within them. His expression was one of pure amazement and admiration, not a trace of the discomfort she had come to expect. Solluha''r''s heart swelled with emotion, a wave of warmth washing over her. For the first time, she felt truly understood, truly appreciated for who she was. She felt touched, she didn''t even understand what was happening but she couldn''t help but felt that her feelings for Volk deepened in a way she hadn''t expected. But amidst the rush of emotions, Solluha''r suddenly became aware of Volk''s hands, which had slowly drifted down to her open stomach. A jolt of sensation shot through her, a mix of heat and ticklishness that made her skin tingle, it also made her feel the familiar warm sticky web substance below her. As if her body reacted instinctively from his touch, making her breath quickens, with her pulse racing fast. Unable to resist the sensations coursing through her, Solluha''r''s body trembled with the intensity. But even as the familiar emotions swirled within her, she mustered the strength to whisper, "Wait¡­ Please¡­" Volk immediately stopped, with his expression shifting to one of concern. "What''s wrong?" Solluha''r''s face burned with embarrassment, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to explain. "I¡­ I need to absorb the crystal first¡­ before we¡­ do that." Her words came out in a shy, embarrassed rush, her eyes avoiding his gaze. Volk''s eyes widened in realization. "The crystal?" he echoed, understanding dawning on him. Solluha''r nodded, her embarrassment still evident. "I heard the beam of sound earlier, and¡­ and judging by how you came back in such a hurry, it means the tribe won''t let you join the catacombs unless you reach the third stage of Mag''Durotan. And the catacombs probably require warriors at stages three to five¡­" Her voice trailed off, her gaze finally meeting his. Volk couldn''t help but feel a surge of admiration for her insight. She had pieced everything together with such precision, understanding the situation without even needing to be told. He slowly set her down, his movements gentle and careful, as if she were something precious. Solluha''r reached out for the crystals with trembling hands, her expression a mix of determination and nervousness. Volk watched her, unsure of what to do next, but then Solluha''r''s shy voice broke the silence. "You¡­ you could try the meat on the first floor, if you don''t know what to do for now," she suggested, with her voice laced with embarrassment. "It''s your prize¡­ for capturing the venomous earth mole yesterday." Volk nodded, his mind still spinning from everything that had just happened. He left the room, making his way down the stairs to the first floor. As he searched for the meat, his thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions and questions. When he finally found it, he unwrapped the bundle carefully, revealing the meat inside. As he looked at it, something familiar caught his eye. The meat was different¡ªthere was a faint glow to it, something that hadn''t been there before. He stared at it in confusion, his mind immediately tried to make sense of what he was seeing. But this time, he could see that it was not green anymore, but a brown one. Then, it hit him. "Absorption?" he muttered to himself, the word escaping his lips as the realization dawned on him. The meat had somehow absorbed the hazardous magic particles, just like he could. The implications of this discovery left him stunned, his mind reeling with questions how? Chapter 25: Love making before Catacomb Diving Volk''s heart pounded with exhilaration as he dashed back up the stairs, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the tower. "I can absorb again! I can absorb again!" His shout was filled with childlike glee, the discovery of his ability renewing his excitement. He burst through the door, finding Solluha''r waiting for him with a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes sparkled with warmth as she watched him, clearly pleased by his enthusiasm. Volk''s face was glowing as he repeated, "I can absorb again, Solluha''r! I can absorb again!!" Solluha''r nodded in response, her smile widening. But then, something shifted in Volk''s expression. His joy tempered, giving way to a look of suspicion. He took a step closer to her, his brow furrowing. "You''re suspicious," he said slowly, his voice dropping an octave. "It''s as if you already knew this would happen¡­" Solluha''r''s breath caught in her throat as Volk''s intense gaze locked onto hers. He closed the distance between them in one swift movement, his eyes narrowing. "Did you know this was going to happen?" he asked directly, his voice now a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. Solluha''r''s face reddened as she tried to avoid his gaze, her mind scrambling for an excuse. "I¡­ I didn''t know¡­ I just¡­ I just thought that¡­" she stammered, her voice faltering under the weight of his stare. But before she could finish her sentence, Volk reached out, gently cupping her face in his hand. He tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. Volk''s look was teasing, yet there was an edge to it, a promise of something more. "Did you enjoy seeing me act like a child?" he murmured, his tone playful yet probing. "Jumping with happiness? Is that what you want? To play with my brittle heart? Hmmm¡­?" Solluha''r swallowed hard, the heat in her cheeks intensifying. She could feel her heart racing, her body betraying her as she struggled to find the right words. Finally, with her voice barely above a whisper, she admitted, "I¡­ I only thought of it because¡­ because what you absorbed was one of my main elemental affinity¡­" Her face turned a deeper shade of red as she continued, her words tumbling out in a rush. "But as a witch, unlike normal elves who usually only have one elemental affinity, I have three more¡­ And one of them is the Earth element, but¡­ but I''m only at the beginning stages, so even if we do the deed¡­ the benefit would be low¡­" Volk listened intently as she explained with an unreadable expression on his face. Solluha''r''s explanation grew more detailed, her words weaving a complex picture of elemental affinities and their effects. She spoke of how Lyerin''s absorption of the main elemental affinity was a natural process for elves, how it usually required time and practice, and how her own affinity for the Earth element was still in its infancy. Her embarrassment was palpable, each word laced with the vulnerability of revealing something deeply personal. When she finally finished, Volk remained silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then, with a serious expression, he asked, "So we can''t do it in the botanical mana?" Solluha''r shook her head, her blush deepening. "No¡­ The crystal that Grak''thor gave us¡­ it''s not enough," she murmured, her voice barely audible. Volk nodded thoughtfully. "What about the wind affinity?" he asked suddenly. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Solluha''r''s eyes widened in shock, her expression one of utter disbelief. "How¡­ how do you know that?" she gasped, her mind reeling. She didn''t remember telling him about her wind affinity, yet he had somehow figured it out. Volk simply smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. "You''re not the only one who has something special about them," he replied, his tone cryptic. Solluha''r''s heart skipped a beat, her mind swirling with a mixture of confusion and admiration. His words struck a chord deep within her, making her feel even more flustered. She bit her lip, trying to steady herself. "We could¡­ we could do it," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I''ve already absorbed the magic crystals and converted them into wind elemental mana¡­ And¡­ and there''s plenty of wind mana compared to the other elements¡­ so we could really do it¡­" Volk''s smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a teasing light. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he murmured in her ear, "Let''s do it, then. Let''s do it for the tribe." Solluha''r''s entire body tingled at his words, her blush spreading from her cheeks down to her neck. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She was acutely aware of how close he was, the warmth of his breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine. Suddenly, Volk began undressing her, his hands deft and sure. Solluha''r''s breath hitched, but instead of stopping him, she found herself helping him, her hands moving almost of their own accord. The feel of his hands on her skin sent electric sparks through her, as if her body was responding to his touch with a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement. Volk grinned as he watched her, his eyes filled with mischief. "Are you really doing this for the tribe?" he teased, his voice low and seductive. Solluha''r avoided his gaze, her face burning with embarrassment. She could feel the heat rising within her, her heart racing faster with every second. When she was finally bare before him, her vulnerability on full display, Volk''s expression softened. He gazed at her with a mixture of admiration and something deeper¡ªsomething that made her heart swell. "I can understand if you''re doing this for the tribe," he said softly. "But if you''re doing it because you want me¡­ then I''ll be even more motivated to put a lot of children inside you." Solluha''r''s breath caught in her throat, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. She opened her mouth to respond, to say something¡ªanything¡ªbut the words stuck in her throat. Volk''s serious, determined look made it clear that he meant every word, and it left her speechless. But before she could gather her thoughts, Volk silenced her with a gentle yet firm touch. "You don''t have to say anything to make me feel good," he whispered. "I don''t want to force you to admit anything." Solluha''r''s mind was a blur, her emotions a tangled mess. But then, suddenly, she felt something hard enter her, a sensation so intense and overwhelming that it made her entire body tense. It was pulsing, hard and hot, filling her with a heat that was almost unbearable. It was in! she thought, her mind struggling to keep up with the flood of sensations. Her face flushed even redder, her body instinctively gripping onto him, wanting to feel him even more. The pleasure was overwhelming, building with each pulse, each movement, it''s making her go crazy. Volk''s voice broke through the haze, firm and resolute. "Solluha''r," he said, his tone filled with promise. "Be prepared. I''ll make sure to put a lot of babies inside you." Solluha''r could only nod, like her body was responding to his words with a deep sense of satisfaction and ecstasy. Soon enough, the afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room as the two of them gave in to their desires. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the air, a symphony of splashing and pleasure that echoed throughout the tower. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they continued to lose themselves in each other, the night stretching on as they explored the depths of their connection. For that moment, nothing else mattered¡ªonly the two of them, and the bond they were forging together, stronger and deeper than either of them had ever imagined. Chapter 26: Incredibly fast Creation The morning sun barely peeked over the horizon when Volk stirred from his sleep, his powerful body still tangled in the warmth of Solluha''r''s embrace. The events of the night played over in his mind, a heady mix of pride, satisfaction, and a lingering tenderness that surprised him. He glanced at Solluha''r, who was peacefully resting beside him, her breathing soft and rhythmic. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He didn''t want to leave her side, but he knew he had to. The day ahead promised new challenges, and he needed to be prepared. Carefully, Volk began to untangle himself from Solluha''r, trying not to wake her. He was about to gently smooth her hair back, to ensure she wouldn''t be startled when she awoke to find him gone, when suddenly, her body jerked violently, causing Volk to freeze in place. His heart skipped a beat as Solluha''r''s body convulsed and twitches uncontrollably. Panic immediately spread through his entire being as he watched her tremble, her face contorting in pain. Before Volk could react, Solluha''r''s eyes snapped open, and she let out a blood-curdling scream that reverberated through the room, piercing Volk''s ears and sending a chill down his spine. "Solluha''r!" he shouted, his voice thick with fear. What is happening? His mind raced as he tried to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. Solluha''r clutched her stomach, her fingers digging into her flesh as if trying to hold something in. Her eyes, wide with terror, began to weep green and silver tears, with streaks of brown and blue mixed in¡ªa grotesque, otherworldly display. Soon, it wasn''t just her eyes; the strange liquid began to pour from her nose, mouth, and even her ears, painting her face with colors that should never have mingled together. Volk''s fear escalated. "The radiation¡­ has it affected her? Is she going to die?" The thoughts screamed through his mind, but he couldn''t let himself believe it. He had to do something¡ªanything to save her. He frantically searched her face for a sign of what to do, desperate to help. Then, through her pain, Solluha''r''s trembling hand lifted and weakly beckoned him towards something. Volk''s gaze followed the direction of her hand, landing on the box filled with magic crystals nearby. His instincts kicked in immediately, and he grabbed the box, pulling it closer to her. The moment he did, Solluha''r reached out and laid her hand on the box. The magic crystals within began to glow, their light shimmering as if alive, before the particles of mana within them started to drift out, swirling around Solluha''r''s hand before being absorbed into her body. "Mana?" Volk whispered, his eyes wide as he watched in amazement. Solluha''r, though still visibly weak, managed a faint smile. "This¡­ this is normal¡­ when an Elven witch¡­ is pregnant¡­ with a hornless orc''s child¡­" Volk''s heart stopped for a moment. "Pregnant?" The word left his lips, his voice laced with disbelief and shock. His mind struggled to wrap around the reality of what she had just said. Solluha''r nodded weakly, still absorbing the mana. Her breath was shallow, but she continued to speak, her voice a fragile whisper. "Yes¡­ pregnant¡­ The compatibility¡­ between a Hornless Orc and an Elven witch¡­ it''s very natural¡­ very strong¡­ That''s why¡­ our races¡­ are perfect for each other¡­" Volk''s jaw dropped, his eyes widening to an almost comical degree. Pregnant? Already? The sheer speed of it all left him reeling. "But¡­ how? Is it really that fast?" he asked, his voice trembling. Solluha''r, despite her weakened state, blushed deeply, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment. She took a shaky breath, preparing herself to explain. "When¡­ when an Elven witch¡­ and a Hornless Orc copulate¡­ it''s¡­ it''s a union of natural chemistry¡­ the pregnancy happens almost instantly¡­ That''s why¡­ our races have thrived¡­ even with the constant threat¡­ of being hunted by Dark Elven Witches and Red Elven Warlocks¡­" Volk listened, completely dumbfounded by her words. She continued, her voice gaining a bit of strength as she spoke. "In ancient times¡­ this compatibility¡­ it was the reason¡­ why, despite the odds, we survived¡­ The Hornless Orcs¡­ and the Elven witches¡­ are perfect for each other¡­ and that''s why¡­ even though our enemies hunt us¡­ our population never dwindles¡­" As she finished speaking, Solluha''r took another shaky breath, then looked directly at Volk, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and pride. "Volk¡­ you''re going to be¡­ the father of twenty children¡­" Volk''s eyes bulged out of his head, his mouth falling open in utter shock. "Twenty?!" he exclaimed, his voice almost a shout. His mind couldn''t process the sheer number. His jaw practically hit the floor as he stared at her, his disbelief palpable. "So many?" he finally managed to sputter. Solluha''r, despite everything, giggled softly at his reaction. Her laughter was light, almost musical, a sweet sound that contrasted sharply with the chaos of moments before. She nodded, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Yes¡­ that''s also why¡­ our population¡­ is strong¡­ Elven witches¡­ can bear many children¡­ especially with a Hornless Orc¡­" Volk swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He tried to wrap his head around the concept of being the father of twenty children. "That''s¡­ that''s too many," he said, almost to himself. "How¡­ how will you be able to¡­ keep them all inside?" Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Solluha''r smiled softly, her expression tender. She was still weak, but she gathered her strength to explain. "The children¡­ they''re very small¡­ when they''re inside¡­ only as big as a finger¡­ They won''t make my stomach¡­ inflate too much¡­ And when they''re ready to come out¡­ they''ll pupate¡­ like butterfly worms¡­ It''s a natural process¡­ so they won''t¡­ harm me¡­" She paused, taking a moment to catch her breath before continuing. "A normal elf¡­ can have up to twelve children¡­ at their peak¡­ But I¡­ because of my connection¡­ with you¡­ if I reached my peak because of my talent¡­ I can have at least¡­ forty-eight children¡­" Volk was speechless, his tongue tied by the sheer magnitude of what she was saying. "Forty-eight?" he repeated, the number almost too large for him to comprehend. Solluha''r nodded, her smile tinged with sadness. "Yes¡­ but even if it''s¡­ that many¡­ only a few¡­ will become warriors¡­ Most will become¡­ laborers¡­" Her voice wavered, the sadness in her words clear. Seeing her distress, Volk reached out and gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away the lingering tears from her cheeks. "Don''t be sad, Solluha''r," he said softly, his voice filled with resolve. "We should celebrate once I''m back." Solluha''r managed a weak smile, her eyes shining with gratitude. She nodded slowly, but Volk wasn''t finished. He leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "And don''t worry," he added, his voice firm. "All our children will become warriors. Every single one of them." Solluha''r''s eyes widened in surprise. She stared into Volk''s eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, but all she found was unwavering confidence. She could feel the truth in his words, the strength of his conviction. It made her heart swell with pride and hope. But then, Solluha''r chuckled softly, her mood lightening. "If that''s the case¡­ then go and get¡­ a lot of magic crystals for me¡­ The strength of our warriors¡­ will depend on how many crystals¡­ you bring back¡­" Volk grinned, a fierce determination lighting up his features. He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips, making her blush deeply. Her heart fluttered at the warmth of his touch, the tenderness in his kiss. "I will," Volk promised as he pulled back, his voice full of resolve. He stood up, his powerful form casting a shadow over her as he looked down at her with a mix of love and determination. "Getting magic crystals won''t be a problem for me." With that, he turned and left the room, his steps heavy with purpose. Solluha''r watched him go, her heart filled with a mixture of emotions¡ªlove, pride, hope, and a newfound belief in their future. As the door closed behind Volk, she lay back on the bed, her hand resting on her still-flat stomach, where their future warriors were growing, and where the children were forming. However, there was also guilt in her eyes, she knew that only a few of them would manage to live in their pupation period. But she decided not to tell Volk as he left to go to the catacombs. Chapter 29: Hazardous Warthog The battle began with a sudden ferocity that took even the seasoned warriors by surprise. The younger orcs, still green in their experience, hesitated for only a fraction of a second before they charged forward, weapons raised. But it was enough time for the wild boars to lunge, immediately their massive bodies were crashing through the underbrush with terrifying speed. "Hold your ground, Mag''Durotans!" bellowed one of the armored orcs, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Do not let them push you back! Use your hands if you can''t use your weapons properly! The hazardous magic particles are sapping your strength!" Volk barely had time to register the command before a wild boar, its tusks gleaming with a sickly green light, barreled toward him. He swung his club with all his might, the heavy weapon connecting with a dull thud against the boar''s side. The beast let out a shrill squeal of pain but didn''t slow down. It twisted its massive body, attempting to gore him with its tusks. "Keep moving, young Mag''Durotan!" shouted another armored orc from the front lines. "Don''t let them pin you down! Use your hands when your weapon fails you!" Volk felt a surge of determination rise within him. As the boar came at him again, he sidestepped the charging beast and swung his club again, in a split second, the heavy impact sent the boar crashing to the ground. Kabam! The air around him was thick, oppressive, as if the very forest were pressing down on him. He saw the other younglings faltering under the weight of the magic particles in the air, their movements becoming sluggish as their strength waned. But to Volk''s surprise, he felt¡­ fine. The oppressive atmosphere that seemed weighed so heavily on the others barely touched him. If anything, he felt a strange resistance within him, a force that kept the debilitating effects of the particles at bay. "Get to its flanks!" commanded the armored orc who had spoken before. "Their strength is in their size and momentum! Don''t face them head-on¡ªmove to their sides and strike where they''re weakest!" Volk nodded, though he wasn''t sure if the orc could see him. He focused on the boar, trying to remember his training. He feinted to the left, drawing the beast''s attention, then quickly shifted to the right, bringing his club down hard on its hind leg. The boar stumbled, and Volk seized the opportunity, swinging his club again and again until the beast collapsed to the ground. But there was no time to celebrate his small victory. Another boar was already charging toward him, and he could hear the shouts and cries of his fellow younglings as they struggled against the relentless assault. "Watch your flanks, damn it!" roared another armored orc, his voice filled with frustration. "You''re not in this alone! Support each other, Mag''Durotans! Don''t get separated!" Volk gritted his teeth, trying to keep the armored orc''s advice in mind as he ducked and weaved through the chaos. He noticed the way the others faltered, their movements becoming sluggish as their energy was drained by the magical particles. But he felt no such weakness. It was as if the magic particles, which affected everyone else so severely, simply passed over him without consequence. He felt strong, focused, his movements as quick and precise as ever. A young orc near Volk was knocked to the ground by a particularly vicious boar, and Volk barely managed to pull him out of the way before the beast could finish him off. The young orc looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes, his hands trembling as he tried to get back to his feet. "Get up!" Volk shouted, grabbing the orc by the arm and hauling him to his feet. "We don''t have time for fear! Fight, damn it!" The young orc nodded, swallowing hard as he picked up his weapon and rejoined the fray. Volk turned his attention back to his own fight, trying to ignore the burning in his muscles as he swung his club at another boar. "Keep moving!" came another shout from the armored orcs, their voices a constant presence in the battle. "Don''t let them corner you! If you stop, you''re dead!" Volk could feel the truth of their words in every aching muscle. The boars were relentless, their sheer size and strength overwhelming the younger orcs. For every beast they brought down, two more seemed to take its place. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat, and the ground was slick with mud and gore. But despite the overwhelming odds, Volk was surprised to find that he wasn''t weakening as much as the others. Or maybe the magic particles were affecting him, yes, but not to the extent that they were draining the strength of his comrades. He didn''t have time to dwell on the why of it, but he could see the looks of confusion and surprise on the faces of the older orcs whenever they glanced in his direction. "Why isn''t that young Mag''Durotan weakening?" one of the armored orcs muttered, his voice just loud enough for Volk to catch as he swung his club at another boar. "He should be on his last legs by now¡­" "Focus on the fight!" snapped another armored orc. "We can figure out why later¡ªright now, we need to survive!" The battle raged on, the young orcs struggling to keep up with the unrelenting assault. Volk rolled out of the way of a charging boar, coming up on his feet just in time to bash it across the head with his club. The beast staggered, but it didn''t go down. "Get its legs, Volk!" shouted an armored orc, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. "Take out its legs and it''ll go down!" Volk did as he was told, immediately his club connected with the beast''s front leg with a sickening crunch. The boar let out a pained squeal, collapsing to the ground, but even as it fell, it lashed out with its tusks, catching Volk across the chest. He stumbled back, the breath knocked out of him, but he didn''t go down. He felt the sharp pain where the tusks had struck him, but it only fueled his determination further. "Don''t stop!" the armored orc yelled, his voice a mixture of encouragement and command. "If you fall now, you won''t get back up!" Volk nodded grimly, pushing through the pain as he brought his club down on the boar''s head, finally ending its struggle. He didn''t have time to catch his breath before another boar was on him, and he could hear the shouts of the other younglings as they fought their own battles. The ground was littered with the bodies of fallen boars, but there were still more of them, their glowing eyes filled with a malevolent intelligence that sent a chill down Volk''s spine. He could feel the fatigue setting in, the magic particles gnawing at his strength, but he refused to give in. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Remember your training!" shouted an armored orc as he decapitated a boar with a swift swing of his massive axe. "We trained you for this! Stay focused, stay alive!" Volk tried to do just that, his mind racing as he fought off yet another boar. The beasts were relentless, their sheer numbers threatening to overwhelm the younger orcs despite the best efforts of the armored veterans. And then, suddenly, something changed. The boars, as one, stopped their assault. The clearing fell eerily silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the orcs and the rustling of leaves in the wind. The boars turned as one, immediately their glowing eyes fixed on something in the distance. Volk followed their gaze, ignoring his breath catching in his throat as he saw what had captured their attention. Emerging from the shadows of the forest was a creature unlike any hazardous boars around. It was massive, easily twice the size of the largest boar they had encountered. Its skin was a mottled green, almost black in places, and its tusks were long and jagged, curving wickedly upward. Its eyes glowed with a sickly green light, and a deep, guttural growl rumbled from its throat as it surveyed the battlefield. One of the armored orcs, with a voice trembling in fear, spoke in a hushed tone. "It''s a Hazardous Warthog¡­ Everyone, stay still." Volk could feel the fear in the air, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. The armored orc continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do not move. Do not even breathe if you can help it. This creature is beyond us. Even with our Grum-gar form, we are no match for it. It hunts those who are cleaner or untainted by the hazardous magic. If it sees us, it will attack." But it was too late. The Hazardous Warthog''s eyes locked onto Volk, and in that instant, Volk knew there was no escaping it. The beast let out a deafening roar that shook the very ground beneath their feet, and then, with terrifying speed, it charged directly at him. "Run!" one of the armored orcs shouted, but Volk couldn''t move. His legs felt like they were made of lead, his heart pounding in his chest as the beast bore down on him. There was no time to think, no time to react. All he could do was close his eyes and brace himself for the impact that was sure to come. Chapter 30: Labor Orcs curse Volk braced himself for the impact, expecting to be thrown aside or crushed beneath the enormous tusks of the Hazardous Warthog. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action, but instead of the anticipated force, he felt something else¡ªa warm, gentle whoosh of breath washing over his face. Confused, he kept his eyes shut tight, heart pounding in his chest like a drum thud thud thud. When nothing happened after several heartbeats, he cautiously opened one eye. To his shock, he found himself staring directly into a massive nostril, mere inches from his face. The Warthog was sniffing him, its breath warm and surprisingly gentle. Volk''s jaw dropped with a quiet clack, and his breath caught in his throat. "Eh?" The absurdity of the situation hit him all at once¡ªhere he was, face to face with a beast that was supposed to be one of the most dangerous creatures in this cursed forest, and it was¡­ smelling him? Volk''s mind raced. "What¡­ is happening?" he muttered to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. His heart pounded thud thud thud as he struggled to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. The Warthog''s eyes, glowing with that eerie green light, seemed to study him with something that resembled curiosity¡ªor was it pity? The massive beast tilted its head slightly and nudged Volk gently with its snout. The touch was delicate, almost tender, as though the creature was afraid of hurting him. Volk''s heart skipped a beat, and his body tensed involuntarily, but the Warthog made no move to harm him. It merely continued to inspect him, as if it were trying to puzzle out why he was different from the other orcs. Volk''s confusion deepened as the Warthog continued its strange behavior. It circled him slowly, its massive bulk moving with an unexpected grace. The beast''s nose brushed against Volk''s chest swish, then his shoulders swish, then his arms, as if it were checking for something. Each touch was light, almost reverent, as though the Warthog was handling something fragile. At one point, the Warthog pressed its snout against Volk''s side and released a deep, rumbling breath grrrh that shook his entire body. Volk felt the vibration travel through his bones vrrrr, leaving a strange, tingling sensation in its wake. He could feel the Warthog''s breath on his skin, warm and steady, as it continued its bizarre inspection. It then nudged Volk''s leg, as if testing his stability. Shook! Volk stumbled slightly, but the Warthog didn''t react aggressively. Instead, it pulled back, looking at him with those glowing eyes filled with¡­ pity? Yes, Volk realized with a jolt, there was unmistakable pity in the Warthog''s gaze, as though it saw him as something weak and fragile, something in need of protection. Volk could hardly believe what was happening. "Is this really happening?" He mumbled. This creature, this monstrous beast that was supposed to be the most hazardous¡ªno, the most pitiful and weak¡ªcreature in the forest, was treating him with a gentleness that was completely out of character for its fearsome appearance. It even nudged his hand, as if encouraging him to touch it. Volk hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out. His fingers brushed against the rough, bristly hair on the Warthog''s snout shhhh. The beast closed its eyes, seeming to enjoy the touch. Around him, Volk could hear the gasps and murmurs of the other orcs gasp gasp, both the younglings and the older, bone-armored warriors. Their faces were a mixture of shock and disbelief, their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Some of them looked like they had just witnessed a miracle, while others seemed unable to process what they were seeing. The expressions on their faces were so exaggerated that Volk might have laughed if he hadn''t been so bewildered himself. The Warthog, meanwhile, continued its inspection, circling Volk one last time before stopping in front of him again. It sniffed at his hair, its breath ruffling the strands whoosh whoosh, then released a soft, almost contented grunt hrmph. The beast''s eyes softened even further, the pity in them almost painful to see. Then, without warning, the Warthog turned and lumbered away, its massive hooves thud thud echoing through the forest floor as it disappeared into the dense foliage as if it had simply lost interest. For several long moments, the forest was silent. The orcs around Volk remained frozen in place, their eyes still locked on the spot where the Warthog had stood. Volk felt his heart slowly return to a more normal rhythm, but his mind was still racing, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. "What¡­ just happened?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He looked around at the other orcs, hoping for some kind of explanation, but all he saw were their stunned faces, their eyes still wide with disbelief. The bone-armored orcs, veterans of countless battles and hardships, were staring at him as though he were something otherworldly. One of them, an older orc with deep-set scars and weary eyes, finally snapped out of his stupor and barked an order. "Mag''Durotans, forward!" His voice was sharp, but Volk could hear the tremor in it, as if the orc couldn''t quite believe what had just happened. The younger orcs hesitated for a moment before they began to move, their steps slow and uncertain. Volk remained where he was, his mind still struggling to process the encounter. As the others moved past him, one of the bone-armored orcs approached him, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and something Volk couldn''t quite identify. "Young Mag''Durotan," the orc began, his voice low and cautious. "Who are you?" Volk blinked, the question pulling him out of his daze. "I''m Volk Mog''ger," he replied, the words feeling strange in his mouth after what had just occurred. "The current Kaz''rogal of this year." The orc stared at him for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. "Current Kaz''rogal?" He asked before contemplating, "I see¡­ I heard the current one was a Labor Orc. No wonder the Hazardous Warthog didn''t attack you." Volk frowned, still confused. "Why?" he asked respectfully, his tone polite despite the whirlwind of questions in his mind. "What is that Warthog? Why it didn''t attack me?" The orc sighed, looking out at the forest with a distant gaze. "The Hazardous Warthog," he began slowly, "is a creature that is considered the strongest among magical beasts in this land. This is because it is filled with hazardous magic particles compared to others, which make it more dangerous and stronger. These particles, though dangerous to others, are the Warthog''s power. This forest is its domain, where it lords over creatures even weaker than itself." Volk listened intently as the orc continued, his voice taking on a tone of grim resignation. "The Warthog despises those who are weaker or who don''t have hazardous magic particles, or those who aren''t burdened by the hazardous magic. It sees them as nothing but a consumable existence, and it will often attack them out of spite, as if to prove it''s the strongest there is. But for those who are even more affected by it, even weaker than itself, it feels like a strange kinship. It treats them as more talented than itself, and if you grow to your peak, that''s when it would only attack! To beat you! To prove that it''s mightier than you." The explanation left Volk speechless. He had never imagined that such a creature could exist, one that was simultaneously so dangerous yet so... arrogant. The orc''s words painted a picture of a beast that was desperate to assert its strength in a world where it was inherently fragile, a contradiction that Volk found difficult to grasp. The bone-armored orc placed a heavy hand on Volk''s shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. "You, Volk Mog''ger, must carry a burden even greater than the Warthog''s. That is why it spared you. It saw in you a potential enemy, one who can endure the same or more hazardous magic particles as the warthog himself." Volk didn''t know how to respond. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of which seemed to settle. He looked up at the orc, searching for answers, but all he could manage was a weak, "I¡­ I see." The older orc nodded, his expression softening slightly. "You have much to learn about this world, Volk Mog''ger. But know this¡ªyou are not alone in your struggle." There was a long silence, broken only by the rustling of the leaves above them rustle rustle. Volk felt the weight of the orc''s words settle heavily on his shoulders, a responsibility he hadn''t anticipated but could not ignore. He took a deep breath inhale, trying to steady himself, but before he could speak, the orc''s voice cut through the quiet. "Are you familiar with the Labor Orc curse?" the orc asked, his tone serious. Volk looked up, his confusion returning. "No," he replied slowly, unsure of what this new revelation would bring. "What is it?" Chapter 31: Curse information The march through the dense, verdant forest was steady, and the sound of their heavy boots and the occasional clank of armor were echoing through the trees occasionally. Volk found himself walking beside the bone-armored orc who had approached him earlier. This orc, unlike the others, seemed particularly interested in Volk, his gaze thoughtful as they moved forward. Finally, the orc broke the silence, his deep voice filled with pride. "I am Grommash, known as Grommash the Great Hunter. My title is well-earned, for I have hunted and slain beasts that would turn the stomachs of lesser orcs. My arrows have found the hearts of creatures that would make even the bravest warriors tremble." Volk nodded, acknowledging Grommash''s introduction. He was keenly aware of the orc''s prowess, evident in the way he carried himself and the respect he commanded from the others. Grommash''s eyes, however, were not filled with the usual condescension Volk had become accustomed to. Instead, there was a strange mixture of curiosity and something close to pity. As they marched, Grommash began to speak again, his voice lowering slightly as he broached a more serious topic. "You have heard of the Labor Orc curse, yes? Right?" Volk nodded, but Grommash continued, as if compelled to explain in more detail. "Long ago, all orcs were warriors, fierce and proud. Our ancestors fought with unmatched strength and courage. But as time passed, some among us began to consume food tainted with hazardous magic particles. These particles, though not immediately fatal, had a slow and insidious effect on our people." Volk listened intently, his mind recalling the memories of the Labor Orc that he occupied, but Grommash''s account was more detailed, more vivid. "The food, rich in hazardous magic particles, began to weaken our bodies over generations. Those who consumed it became less robust, less fierce. They lost their desire for battle, their bodies unable to withstand the rigors of combat. These orcs became what we now know as Labor Orcs." Grommash''s voice was heavy with the weight of history as he continued, "Labor Orcs are a shadow of what they could have been. They are much weaker than the warrior orcs, unable to fight, only capable of working for the rest of their lives. They lack the fire that drives us, the desire to breed and carry on the bloodline. Worse yet, they are sterile¡ªunable to produce offspring unless certain conditions are met. They are born to toil and die in obscurity." Volk felt a pang of sadness as he listened. He had always known about the curse, but hearing it laid out so plainly, with such stark honesty, made it all the more real. He nodded, signaling to Grommash that he understood. But the Great Hunter wasn''t done. "Even in their Grum-gar form," Grommash said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "Labor Orcs are weak. The Grum-gar form is supposed to be the ultimate expression of an orc''s power, a transformation that grants us the strength of the ancients. But for a Labor Orc, it is a pale imitation." Grommash explained further, his words deliberate and slow, as though he was choosing each one carefully. "A normal warrior orc, when in their Grum-gar form, can strengthen themselves up to five times over. This is the mark of a true warrior, to tap into the power that runs deep in our blood. But a Labor Orc¡­ they can only manage to double their strength. Even this is a rarity among them. It is a pale shadow of what should be. In the neighboring clan, there are still some who can manage fivefold transformations, but they live in seclusion, their strength too precious to be risked in battle." Volk''s mind raced as he absorbed this information. He had never fully understood the limitations of the Labor Orcs especially his own, but now it was clear. If he could only strengthen himself twice in his Grum-gar form, then his arsenal in combat was severely limited. "Am I really limited in combat? Is that why even though when I introduced myself as a Kaz''rogal, they didn''t find it that much special?" He mumbled. This realization struck him hard, like a cold stone of dread settling in his gut. He felt powerless. Back when he fought Luk''Tar, he only got strengthened twice, and nothing more than that. If he can only truly strengthen twice, doesn''t that mean he will still be considered weak? Grommash continued, his tone growing even more serious. "There''s more. The Labor Orcs, once they miss the ceremony of Union to the elves, lose the ability to breed forever. Even if they manage to participate, they can only produce offspring with one female elf. No others." Volk knew this already, and the mention of it stirred memories of his own struggles. He had nearly missed his chance to wed Solluha''r because of Luk''Tar, the thief who had stolen his earth mole kill. That near-miss could have cost him everything. The reminder sent a shiver down his spine. Grommash''s words cut through his thoughts like a blade. "This is why we pity you, Volk Mog''ger. The curse is not just about weakness. It is about loss¡ªof strength, of heritage, of potential. Even your children, if they inherit your Grum-gar form, will be weak. Though they might awaken the power, it will be a faint echo of what it should be." Volk felt a deep ache in his chest at the thought. His children cursed before they were even born. And yet, Grommash offered a sliver of hope. "But take heart, Volk Mog''ger. Despite all this, you are different. Your rise to the position of Kaz''rogal is proof of your strength. You will grow, perhaps not in the way others do, but in your own way. Your Labor Orc blood will make you more efficient than others, and your rise to power will be swift. You may not be able to multiply your strength fivefold, but what you can do with your twofold strength will be unmatched." Volk struggled to process this. "Is that really it?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. "Am I truly so limited in combat?" Grommash paused, his expression unreadable. "Yes and no. Your strength may be capped at twice what it could be, but your mind, your tactics, your ingenuity¡ªthese are where you will excel. A warrior is not just muscle and bone. It is also the mind and heart. You will find your own path, Volk Mog''ger." Volk would think this is just a consultation to make him feel at ease, but it''s not helping him. Still, to look polite, he nodded, while still reeling from the weight of Grommash''s words. Immediately after that, his thoughts swirled, questions bubbling up, but before he could voice them, a loud, commanding voice cut through their conversation. "Mag''Durotan, Haaaaaaalt!" The order was immediate, and the entire company of orcs came to a sudden stop. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The forest, which had been filled with the steady rhythm of their march, now fell into an eerie silence. Volk could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of what was to come. "Formation!" The voice rang out again, this time closer, more insistent. The orcs began to move, falling into practiced ranks with military precision. The younglings, including Volk, quickly fell into place, their hearts pounding in unison with the drumbeat of war that seemed to echo in the distance. Volk''s mind was still racing with the conversation he''d just had with Grommash, but he forced himself to focus. This was no time for introspection. He didn''t know what happened, but it seemed like something came up. Chapter 32: Dreadmaw Clan The dense, ancient forest seemed to close in around them as Volk and the other young orcs continued their march. Every step forward felt heavier, as if the ground itself was trying to slow them down. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a distant, thunderous roars that rolled through the trees like a wave. The young orcs froze in place, their eyes wide with confusion and a hint of fear. They exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what the sound meant. Even Volk, who hadn''t many unknowns in this strange new world, felt a shiver run down his spine. The roars were unlike anything he had ever heard¡ªa deep, primal sound that stirred something ancient and instinctual within them. One of the bone-armored orcs, standing at the front of the group, turned to address the younglings. His voice was calm but carried the weight of authority. "Listen up, young Mag''Durotans," he began, his tone brooking no argument. "What you just heard is the sound of battle, far off but close enough to matter. We are near the catacombs, a place where many clans converge, including ours¡ªthe Dreadmaw Clan. Those roars you hear are the battle cries of our brothers and sisters, chosen as representatives to fight for the honor of our clan." Volk and the others leaned in, their attention fully captured. The armored orc continued, his voice taking on a storyteller''s cadence, as if recounting an old legend. "The catacombs are sacred grounds, places of power and mystery. When we draw near, it is tradition that the clans send their strongest young warriors to fight. The victors earn the right to enter the catacombs first, securing their place in the trials ahead. It''s a battle not just of strength, but of skill, wit, and determination. Those who prevail are seen as worthy in the eyes of our ancestors." The explanation was long and detailed, but none of the young orcs minded. They were spellbound, hanging on to every word. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, somehow his blood pumping with an unknown excitement. He could picture the scene the armored orc was describing¡ªyoung orcs, not much older than himself, locked in fierce combat. As the armored orc''s words sank in, one of the younglings, a smaller orc with a curious expression, raised his hand. "But what is a catacomb, exactly?" The armored orc nodded, clearly expecting the question. "Ah, a wise question, young one. The catacombs¡­ they are more than just caves. They are ancient places, steeped in magic and mystery. When you enter a catacomb, you are stepping into the unknown. It''s said that the catacombs are not of this world, or perhaps they are, but they exist on the edge of our reality. When you pass through their gates, you could be transported anywhere." He paused for effect, letting the weight of his words settle on the young orcs. "Some who enter find themselves in a simple cave, dark and silent, where they must rely on their senses and courage to navigate. In these places, you may travel together, relying on each other''s strength. But the catacombs are unpredictable. At times, they will pull you apart, sending each orc to a different place¡ªalone, separated from their kin, forced to face whatever lies ahead without support." Volk felt a chill at the thought of being alone in such a place, cut off from his companions. The armored orc''s voice grew even more serious as he continued. "Some of the catacombs are filled with traps, ancient mechanisms designed to test the unwary. Others are labyrinths, twisting and turning, leading you deeper and deeper until you are hopelessly lost. And then there are those that are alive, where the very walls seem to move, where shadows play tricks on your mind, and the echoes of your footsteps seem to come from all directions at once." The young orcs were silent, their minds racing with the images conjured by the armored orc''s words. Volk could almost see it¡ªthe twisting tunnels, the shifting walls, the traps waiting to spring. He felt a mix of fear and excitement, his warrior''s spirit rising to the challenge even as his rational mind balked at the dangers. The armored orc''s voice dropped to a near whisper, forcing the young orcs to lean in even closer. "And then there are the portals. Sometimes, the catacombs will open up a portal, a doorway to a place beyond our world. Those who step through may find themselves in a land of fire and ash, or a realm of eternal night, where the stars never shine and the air is thick with the scent of death. Only the strongest, the wisest, can navigate these places and return." Another roar echoed through the forest, louder this time, pulling the young orcs back to the present. But this time, the bone-armored orc leading them did not raise a war cry in response. Instead, a heavy silence fell over the group, the absence of the expected shout a bad omen. They stood there for what felt like an eternity, the tension mounting with every passing second. Then, finally, the order came. "March!" The bone-armored orcs barked out commands, and the group began to move again, their pace quickening as they made their way through the thick underbrush. As they walked, Volk couldn''t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his gut. The roars in the distance had stopped. However, omething wasn''t right. He could feel it in his bones, a sense of foreboding that grew stronger with each step. The armored orcs continued to shout commands, their voices carrying through the trees. "Keep your formation tight! Eyes forward! Watch your footing!" The young orcs obeyed without question, their focus sharpened by the tension in the air. Volk found himself near the back of the group, his mind racing as he tried to process everything he had just learned. The catacombs sounded like a place of endless danger and uncertainty, a true test of an orc''s mettle. But there was something else bothering him, something that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Suddenly, he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as if he were being watched. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the ranks of young orcs marching beside him. That''s when he saw it¡ªan orc, not far from him, staring directly at him with a look of pure animosity. The orc''s eyes were dark, his expression twisted with anger and hatred. Volk didn''t recognize him, but the intensity of the orc''s gaze sent a shiver down his spine. There was no mistaking the hostility in those eyes¡ªthis orc saw Volk as an enemy. Volk quickly looked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn''t know why this orc was targeting him, but he could feel the weight of that stare burning into his back. He forced himself to focus on the march, on the commands being shouted by the armored orcs, but the feeling of unease lingered, like a shadow that refused to be shaken. As they continued their march, the cave entrance finally came into view¡ªa dark, gaping maw in the side of a rocky hill, shrouded in mist and shadows. The bone-armored orcs stopped just outside, their eyes scanning the group of younglings. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Form up!" one of the armored orcs shouted. The young orcs quickly fell into line, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. Volk took his place in the formation, trying to push aside the feeling of dread that had settled over him. The entrance to the cave loomed before them, dark and foreboding. The mist that clung to the ground seemed to swirl with a life of its own, as if beckoning them to step inside. Volk swallowed hard, his mouth dry as he stared into the darkness. The bone-armored orc at the front of the group turned to address them one last time. "This is it, young Mag''Durotans. The catacombs await. Remember what I''ve told you. Stay together if you can, but be prepared to face whatever lies within on your own. Trust in your strength, trust in your wits, and you may just survive." With that, he raised his hand, signaling them to move forward. The young orcs took a deep breath and stepped into the darkness. As Volk stepped into the cave, the feeling of animosity from the orc who had been watching him returned, stronger than ever. He didn''t dare look back, but he could feel those eyes boring into him, filled with a hatred he couldn''t understand. But there was no time to dwell on it now. The catacombs were ahead, and whatever awaited them inside would demand his full attention. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was inside, and plunged into the darkness. Chapter 33: GrokThar The cold, damp air of the cave clung to Volk''s skin like a second layer. The walls of the cave were rough and jagged, as if they had been carved out by some ancient force of nature. Sharp, angular rocks jutted out from the walls at odd angles, and the floor was uneven, strewn with loose stones that crunched underfoot. The ceiling was high, disappearing into shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. Here and there, thin stalactites hung from the ceiling like the fangs of some great beast, dripping water into small pools that had formed on the cave floor. The sound of the water dripping echoed through the cave, creating a haunting rhythm that seemed to pulse in time with Volk''s heartbeat. As Volk made his way deeper into the cave, he kept his senses alert. The darkness pressed in around him, but his eyes had begun to adjust, allowing him to make out the faint outlines of the cave''s interior. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something else¡ªsomething ancient and musty, like the smell of old bones. Every now and then, he could hear a distant rumble, as if the cave itself was alive, shifting and groaning in its sleep. Suddenly, Volk heard a soft rustling sound from up ahead. His muscles tensed, and he raised his club, ready to strike. But before he could make a move, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows¡ªa young orc he recognized from earlier, the one he had helped during the battle with the hazardous boars. The orc''s face lit up with recognition as he saw Volk. "Volk!" the orc exclaimed, his voice echoing through the cave. "It''s you! I wasn''t sure if I''d run into you again in this place." Volk lowered his club, relief flooding through him. "It''s good to see a friendly face," he said, offering a nod of greeting. "I didn''t expect to find anyone so soon." The orc approached Volk, his posture respectful. "I am Grok''Thar, Bone Cleaner of the Dreadmaw Clan. And the one I serve is Thrash''Kull, our clan''s great warrior." Grok''Thar paused, then added with a hint of gratitude, "I wanted to thank you, Volk. If you hadn''t helped me earlier, I might not be standing here right now." Volk shrugged, trying to downplay his role. "You would''ve done the same for me, I''m sure. We''re all in this together. By the way, your name sounds like Grak''thor." Grok''Thar smiled, a rare expression of warmth from an orc, and nodded. "Yeah, my name is after him, he saved my mother¡­ But still, I owe you. Perhaps we can stick together in this place. It''s safer that way." Volk considered the offer for a moment, then nodded. "Agreed. This place is dangerous enough without being alone." As they began to walk together, their footsteps echoing softly in the cave, Grok''Thar glanced around, his eyes scanning the dark corners warily. "We were the last to enter the catacombs," he said, his voice hushed. "Most of the other clans were already inside before us. That''s why it''s been so quiet." Volk looked at Grok''Thar, curious. "How many clans are there? I''ve only ever really known our Dreadmaw Clan." Grok''Thar''s brow furrowed in thought. "There are eight clans in total. Let''s see¡­ there''s the Bloodfang Clan, fierce and proud. Their warriors are known for their brutality in battle. Then there''s the Ironhide Clan¡ªthey''re tougher than stone, and their skin is as hard as iron, making them almost impossible to wound." Volk nodded, listening intently as Grok''Thar continued. "Next is the Thunderstrike Clan, known for their speed and agility. They move like lightning on the battlefield, striking fast and hard. The Stonefist Clan is another¡ªmassive brutes who can crush bones with a single blow. Their strength is unmatched, but they''re not the quickest." sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Grok''Thar hesitated for a moment before going on. "The Shadowclaw Clan¡­ They''re the ones you never see coming. They move in the shadows, silent and deadly. They''re the most feared assassins among the clans. Then there''s the Fireblood Clan, known for their fiery temper and their affinity with flame magic. They''re dangerous, especially in close quarters." He paused again, thinking. "Finally, there''s the Frostbite Clan, cold and calculating. Their warriors are like ice¡ªcalm, unyielding, and merciless. And of course, our own Dreadmaw Clan, the hunters. We''re known for our resilience and our ability to track and survive in the harshest conditions." Volk absorbed the information, his mind racing as he imagined the other clans and their warriors. "Do you know how many of them are here in this catacomb?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice. Grok''Thar shook his head. "I''m not sure. We were the last to enter, so there could be any number of them already inside. But it''s best to assume that we''re not alone." As they continued to walk, a sudden movement in the shadows caught Volk''s eye. He tensed, ready for a fight, but before he could react, the creature darted away, disappearing into the darkness. Grok''Thar frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What was that?" he asked, glancing at Volk. Volk lowered his club, equally puzzled. "I''m not sure¡­ It looked like some kind of creature, but it didn''t attack. It just ran." Grok''Thar''s eyes widened as a thought struck him. "Wait¡­ could it be because of the hazardous magic particles in your body?" He looked at Volk with a mix of realization and surprise. "Creatures that are more hazardous or weaker than you might be instinctively avoiding you, sensing the power within you." Volk blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "Oh?" he murmured, more to himself than to Grok''Thar. Grok''Thar nodded, his voice thoughtful. "It makes sense. If these creatures are sensitive to hazardous magic particles, they might see you as a threat. That could work in our favor, Volk. We don''t necessarily need to kill these monsters¡ªthey''re not worth the effort. Their cores aren''t fully formed, so they can''t be turned into crystals yet. What we''re really after are the magic crystals that have grown over time from the remains of dead monsters. Those are what we need." Volk considered Grok''Thar''s words, his mind racing. If these creatures were avoiding him because of the hazardous magic particles, then they could potentially navigate the catacombs without having to fight every monster they encountered. It was a strange thought, but one that could prove to be a valuable advantage. As they moved deeper into the cave, they encountered several more creatures¡ªsmall, shadowy figures that skittered away as soon as they sensed Volk''s presence. Each time, Grok''Thar would glance at Volk with a knowing look, his earlier theory seemingly confirmed. "See?" Grok''Thar whispered after the third encounter. "They''re avoiding you. We might just have an easier time in here than the others." Volk didn''t respond immediately, his thoughts focused on the strange sensation that was slowly building within him. It was like a tug, a subtle pull from deep within the cave, drawing him in a specific direction. He couldn''t explain it, but the feeling was growing stronger with each step they took. Suddenly, Volk stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on a tunnel branching off to the right. Grok''Thar noticed and turned to him, his expression curious. "What is it?" Volk frowned, trying to put the sensation into words. "I¡­ I feel something. A strong hunch, like I''m being pulled towards that tunnel." Grok''Thar raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the tunnel Volk was indicating. "A hunch? Could it be something to do with the hazardous magic particles? Maybe there''s something down there that''s connected to it." Volk nodded, still feeling the strange pull. "I don''t know, but I think we should check it out. Whatever it is, it feels¡­ important." Grok''Thar considered for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Alright, Volk. Lead the way. If you''re being drawn to something, it might be worth investigating." With Grok''Thar following closely behind, Volk cautiously entered the tunnel. The air grew colder as they ventured further in, the walls narrowing around them. The tugging sensation in Volk''s chest grew stronger, more insistent, guiding him deeper into the darkness. He didn''t know what awaited them, but he couldn''t shake the feeling that they were about to uncover something significant¡ªsomething that could change everything. Chapter 34: LhumBaggar The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, the air growing colder with each step Volk and Grok''Thar took. The walls closed in, narrowing to a point where they had to walk single file. The strange tugging sensation within Volk''s chest persisted, guiding him forward with an intensity that made him quicken his pace. Grok''Thar kept close behind, his eyes darting around, ever watchful for any sign of danger. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The silence was heavy, broken only by their footsteps echoing through the narrow passage. Just as Volk felt the tension reaching its peak, the tunnel suddenly widened, opening into a larger chamber. The space was dimly lit by the faint, eerie glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the walls, casting long shadows across the uneven floor. And there, in the center of the chamber, stood a group of orcs¡ªeight of them, each adorned with the unmistakable bone maws of creatures they had slain, trophies of their prowess in battle. The orcs were tall, broad-shouldered, and intimidating, their muscles rippling beneath the layers of armor and furs they wore. Their faces were painted with the war symbols of the Dreadmaw Clan, their eyes gleaming with the fierce determination that marked them as true warriors. They turned as one when Volk and Grok''Thar entered, their gazes sharp and appraising. Grok''Thar immediately recognized them as fellow clan members and relaxed slightly, though he kept a hand near his weapon, just in case. "Looks like we''re not alone in here after all," he muttered to Volk, who nodded in agreement. One of the orcs, a towering figure with the largest bone maw draped across his shoulders, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Volk and Grok''Thar. "More from the Dreadmaw Clan," he rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, echoing off the cavern walls. "Who are you?" Grok''Thar stepped forward, offering a respectful nod. "I am Grok''Thar, Bone Cleaner of the Dreadmaw Clan. This is Volk, the years Kaz''rogal, also of our clan. We seek the crystals within these catacombs." The orc leader grunted, his gaze shifting to Volk. "Volk, huh? The name has reached our ears already. The one who defeated Luk''Tar, is that right?" Volk tensed slightly at the mention of Luk''Tar, but he nodded, holding the orc leader''s gaze. "Yes. I defeated him." A low murmur ran through the group of orcs, and one of them¡ªa shorter, stockier orc with a fierce expression¡ªspoke up. "We''ve been looking for a leader among us," he said, his tone measured. "And we''ve chosen Lhum''Baggar. He''s the strongest among us." At the mention of Lhum''Baggar, Volk''s eyes narrowed. The name stirred something deep within him¡ªa vague sense of unease. And then, from behind the group, a figure emerged. Lhum''Baggar was a tall orc, even taller than Volk, with thick, corded muscles and a presence that radiated authority. But there was something off about him¡ªhis eyes were closed, and his hands were crossed over his chest, as if he was blind or disinterested. Yet, despite his closed eyes, Volk could feel the animosity radiating from him. The air seemed to grow thicker, charged with an undercurrent of tension. The other orcs fell silent, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Lhum''Baggar tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear. Then, in a low, almost casual tone, he spoke. "So, you''re Volk." Volk''s grip tightened on his weapon, his heart beating faster. "Yes. I''m Volk." Lhum''Baggar''s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile, though his eyes remained closed. "Volk¡­ current Kaz''rogal, correct?" Volk felt a shiver run down his spine at the way Lhum''Baggar said his name, as if he was savoring it. "That''s right." For a long moment, Lhum''Baggar said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes. They were dark, piercing, and filled with a cold, simmering hatred. "My name is Lhum''Baggar¡­ son of Lak''Ran Durghan." The name hit Volk like a punch to the gut. He froze, his mind racing as he tried to process what he had just heard. Lak''Ran Durghan¡­ the father of Luk''Tar. And that could only mean one thing¡­ Lhum''Baggar''s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it¡ªonly malice. "Yes," he said softly. "I am the brother of Luk''Tar, the one you defeated. The one you shamed." Volk swallowed hard, his throat dry. He could feel the weight of the other orcs'' gazes on him, their eyes flicking between him and Lhum''Baggar, anticipating what would happen next. "You''re the brother of the thief?" Volk said, his voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. "You want to avenge Luk''Tar?" Lhum''Baggar uncrossed his arms, his fingers flexing as if testing the weight of an invisible weapon. "Revenge is a strong word," he said, his tone deceptively calm. "But yes¡­ I will make you pay for what you did to him." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to meet Lhum''Baggar''s gaze without flinching. "Let''s get on with it, then," he said, his voice hardening with resolve. He wasn''t about to back down, not now. But before either of them could make a move, the other orcs surged forward, placing themselves between Volk and Lhum''Baggar. "Enough!" one of them shouted, his voice authoritative. "This is not the time for settling old grudges. We''re in the catacombs, on a mission. Fighting among ourselves will only lead to disaster." Another orc, his face stern, stepped in front of Lhum''Baggar, blocking his path. "Forget the past, Lhum''Baggar. We''re all here for the same reason. The crystals, remember? We need to work together if we''re going to survive this place." The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Lhum''Baggar''s eyes flicked to the orc standing in his way, then back to Volk. For a moment, it looked as though he might disregard the others and attack anyway, but then he hesitated. "If you win, you become the leader," Lhum''Baggar said, his voice low and menacing. His gaze never left Volk, the challenge clear. The other orcs exchanged uneasy glances. They knew the risks of fighting in the catacombs, but they also knew that this conflict wasn''t going to be resolved easily. Finally, one of them sighed, stepping forward. "If you must fight, then do it. But keep it to a challenge. No Grum-gar forms. If one of you uses it, it''s an automatic loss. We can''t afford to waste our strength here." Volk hesitated, his mind racing. He had never tested his Radioactive form against another orc, let alone one as dangerous as Lhum''Baggar. But he knew that if he backed down now, it would only embolden his opponent. And besides, Lhum''Baggar had already made it clear that he wasn''t going to let this go. "No problem," Volk said, his voice firm. "Let''s get on with it." Lhum''Baggar''s lips curled into a predatory grin, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "As you wish, Volk," he said, his tone dripping with dark promise. "Let''s see who the true warrior is." The orcs around them stepped back, creating a wide circle in the center of the chamber. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the anticipation of the impending clash. Volk took a deep breath, steeling himself for the fight. He knew this wasn''t just about proving his strength¡ªit was about survival, about showing that he wasn''t to be underestimated. Lhum''Baggar''s grin widened, his hands flexing at his sides. "Prepare yourself, Volk," he said, his voice a low growl. "I''ve been waiting for this moment." Volk squared his shoulders, his eyes locked on Lhum''Baggar. "So have I," he replied, his voice steady. "Let''s get on with it." Chapter 35: Receiving a beating The tension in the air was thick enough for them to taste. As the circle of orcs surrounding Volk and Lhum''Baggar began to chant, their voices rising in a crescendo of anticipation, Volk could feel his heart pounding in his chest, each beat reverberating through his entire body. Fight! Fight! Fight! The two agree in combat, they could only comply. The stakes were high, and every orc present knew it. This was more than just a fight¡ªit was a battle of pride, strength, and survival. Lhum''Baggar''s eyes were cold, calculating. He slowly unclenched his fists, the muscles in his arms bulging as he took a deep breath. "To make this fair," he began, his voice dripping with condescension, "I''ll lower my Brute Mending Force to the level of a three Mag''Durotan. After all, you''re just a Labor Orc. No need to make this unfair, right?" Volk felt a spark of anger flare within him, but he kept his expression neutral, only allowing a small, fearless grin to curl his lips. "Yeah, a Labor Orc who thrashed your little brother," he shot back, his tone mocking. "And now big brother''s here to rescue him. How touching." Lhum''Baggar''s expression remained stony, unfazed by Volk''s taunt. Instead, he merely nodded, his muscles flexing and tightening as he focused his energy, clearly preparing himself for the fight. The transformation was subtle but powerful; his already imposing physique seemed to become smaller, for their eyes however, it seemed to grow even more formidable as the Brute Mending Force took hold. "Alright," Lhum''Baggar exhaled, his voice calm but deadly serious. "Let''s fight." Volk rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms out to prepare himself. The adrenaline coursing through his veins sharpened his focus, the weight of the upcoming fight pushing everything else to the back of his mind. "Let''s go," he responded, his voice steady and resolute. The surrounding orcs, now fully invested in the battle that was about to unfold, began to pound their chests in a rhythmic beat, the sound growing louder and more intense with each passing second. "Fight! Fight! Fight!" they chanted, their voices echoing through the cavernous chamber, filling it with an almost tangible energy. And then, without any further warning, the battle began. Lhum''Baggar moved first, closing the distance between them with a speed that belied his massive size. His fist shot out, a blur of motion aimed directly at Volk''s head. Swoosh! Volk barely managed to dodge, feeling the air rush past his face as Lhum''Baggar''s fist narrowly missed its target. But the next punch came faster, and before Volk could react, it slammed into his ribs with the force of a battering ram, sending him staggering back, the breath knocked out of him. Kabag! The pain was immediate and intense, but Volk gritted his teeth, refusing to show any sign of weakness. He quickly regained his footing, shifting his stance as Lhum''Baggar came at him again, this time with a flurry of blows that seemed impossible to block or dodge. Volk did his best, using every trick he had learned, every unorthodox technique he had developed, but it was clear that Lhum''Baggar''s strength and speed were on a different level. Blow after blow rained down on Volk¡ªpunches, kicks, brutal strikes that sent shockwaves of pain through his body. He could feel his muscles straining, his bones creaking under the relentless assault. Every time he tried to counterattack, Lhum''Baggar was already there, blocking or dodging with a fluidity that made him seem almost untouchable. Volk was fighting to survive, every move he made driven by pure instinct. He was bleeding from his mouth, his nose, his body covered in bruises and cuts, but he refused to give up. He could see the looks of concern and fear on the faces of the orcs watching, but he knew he couldn''t afford to think about them. All that mattered was the fight. And yet, as the pain grew more intense, as his vision started to blur from the relentless pounding, Volk''s mind began to drift. He found himself transported back to his past life, back to a time when he was weak, helpless, and trapped in a body that had betrayed him from the moment he was born. He was back in his childhood home, lying in a bed that had become his prison. His body had been small, frail, with limbs that barely functioned. Volk remembered the frustration, the anger, the deep, gnawing sense of inadequacy as he watched others do things he could only dream of¡ªrunning, jumping, fighting. Things that had been impossible for him. He had spent his days watching others live the life he could never have, his only solace found in books, games, and the internet. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He had become a student of combat, devouring every bit of information he could find about martial arts, tactics, anything that could make him feel like he was a part of that world, even if only in his mind. He had trained his mind, sharpening it, preparing himself for a life he would never get to live. But despite the limitations of his body, Volk had never given up. He had refused to let weakness define him, refused to accept that this was all there was for him. He had fought, in his own way, against the unfairness of it all. And now, in this new body, in this new world, he had been given a second chance. A chance to be strong, to fight, to live the life he had always dreamed of. And Volk wasn''t about to let that chance slip away. Volk''s mind snapped back to the present as Lhum''Baggar landed a particularly vicious blow to his side, making him gasp in pain. But even as he stumbled, his vision blurring, Volk''s determination only grew stronger. He wasn''t just fighting Lhum''Baggar¡ªhe was fighting the memories of his past life, fighting the weakness that had haunted him for so long. With a grunt of effort, Volk dodged the next punch, using the momentum to deliver a quick, unexpected strike to Lhum''Baggar''s knee. Swoosh! The bigger orc grunted in surprise, stumbling slightly, giving Volk the opening he needed. He followed up with a series of rapid, precise blows, targeting weak points, using techniques that were foreign to the orcs watching. But Lhum''Baggar was far from beaten. He recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing as he realized Volk wasn''t going down as easily as he had expected. With a roar of frustration, he lunged at Volk, catching him with a powerful backhand that sent him crashing to the ground. Pain exploded in Volk''s head, his vision going dark for a moment as he struggled to stay conscious. He could feel the ground beneath him, cold and unforgiving, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Every part of his body screamed in pain, begging him to give up, to surrender. But Volk knew he couldn''t. He had come too far, fought too hard to let it end here. He forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he faced Lhum''Baggar. The other orc was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his face, but his eyes were still filled with that cold, burning hatred. Volk could see it now¡ªthis wasn''t just about revenge. Lhum''Baggar wanted to prove something, to himself, to the others. He wanted to show that he was stronger, better, that he was the true warrior. But Volk wasn''t going to let him have that satisfaction. With a renewed sense of determination, Volk charged at Lhum''Baggar, using every ounce of strength he had left. He fought with everything he had, using unorthodox moves, quick strikes, anything that might give him an edge. The pain was overwhelming, but he pushed through it, focusing on the fight, on the next move, the next strike. And then, just as he was starting to feel like he couldn''t go on, a strange sensation washed over him. It was as if time had slowed, the world around him fading away. He could feel something within him, a deep, powerful energy that he had never felt before. It was raw, untamed, but it was there, waiting to be unleashed. And then, a notification appeared before his eyes, clear and bright in the darkness of the battle: | Ding! | Activate Radioactive Form? | For a moment, Volk hesitated, his mind racing as he weighed his options. He knew that activating the form could change everything, could give him the edge he needed to win. But at what cost? The power was dangerous, uncontrollable. He wasn''t sure if he was ready to handle it. But as he looked at Lhum''Baggar, at the determination in his eyes, the desire to crush him, Volk knew that he didn''t have a choice. He had to win. He had to survive. Even then, with a deep breath, Volk made his decision. No! Chapter 36: Sacrifice to win Yes! Yes! Yes! ''Yes'' should be the most logical answer he should answer. But for Volk, it''s not. All it would take was one word, one simple thought to activate the Radioactive form that hummed within him, begging to be unleashed. But Volk knew what that would mean. In the Orcs, the rules of combat were sacred, and to use the Radioactive form¡ªa form so closely akin to the Grum-gar or Ogre form¡ªwould be considered a loss, a surrender, a forfeiture of his honor. "No," he muttered under his breath, dismissing the notification. As tempting as it was, Volk had no intention of winning through a form of power that would tarnish the victory. He wanted to defeat Lhum''Baggar on even ground, to prove to himself and to everyone watching that he, a Labor Orc could stand toe-to-toe with a warrior and emerge victorious. The orcs surrounding them quieted slightly as Lhum''Baggar spoke, his voice laced with mocking disdain. "Is that all you''ve got, Kaz''rogal?" he sneered, referring to the title bestowed upon the year''s most promising Labor Orc. His words were accompanied by a deft display of skill as he twirled his massive war ax between his hands, the weapon seeming to dance as it moved fluidly from left to right, the sharp edge catching the dim light. Volk''s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, watching Lhum''Baggar closely. The other orcs began to murmur amongst themselves, their voices tinged with awe and fear. "Did you see that? He''s gotten even better with that ax since the last time." "Yeah, I heard he''s been training nonstop, day and night. No one''s been able to match him." "Look at the way he handles it¡ªlike it''s just an extension of his arm. How can Volk possibly stand up to that?" "He''s already bleeding and bruised. I don''t think he can take much more." Volk could hear every word, each comment fueling the fire inside him. He knew Lhum''Baggar was trying to get into his head, trying to rattle him with his skill and taunts. But Volk had been through worse. He had faced challenges far beyond the physical realm, battles of the mind and spirit that had forged him into the fighter he was today. Lhum''Baggar''s taunts continued, his voice dripping with arrogance as he moved closer, his ax now pointed directly at Volk. "So, this is the mighty Volk, huh? The one who got lucky against my brother? Luk''Tar must have been exhausted after hunting those skinless beasts. That''s the only way you could have beaten him." Volk''s grin was tense, a mask hiding the turmoil within. The truth was, he had taken a beating from Lhum''Baggar not because he lacked strength or skill, but because he had been focused¡ªtoo focused¡ªon the ax. Lhum''Baggar''s mastery of the weapon had left Volk on the defensive, his mind racing to understand the patterns, the rhythm of the strikes. But now, Volk could feel it¡ªhe was starting to see through it, starting to recognize the timing, the tells that Lhum''Baggar unconsciously revealed. Just then, another notification flashed across Volk''s vision: | Ding! | Mission: Defeat the Weapon Handler Lhum''Baggar. | Reward: Basic Mastery of Ax Handling. Failure: Radioactive Time use will be reduced. | Volk''s eyes widened slightly at the reward. The system had finally recognized the challenge he faced, and it was offering him something that could tip the scales in his favor. Basic Mastery of Ax Handling would be invaluable, a key to understanding Lhum''Baggar''s movements and countering them effectively. But failure would mean a reduction in his Radioactive Time, a resource he couldn''t afford to lose. His thoughts were interrupted by Lhum''Baggar''s voice, dripping with sarcasm and challenge. "Why don''t you try that little trick you pulled on Gozorm''al? I''d like to see if it works on someone like me." Volk''s mind raced back to the battle with Gozorm''al, a brutish opponent who had fallen for a simple ruse¡ªa handful of dirt thrown into his eyes, followed by a quick, decisive strike. Lhum''Baggar''s words were meant to mock, to suggest that such a tactic would never work on him. But that was his mistake. Volk''s grin widened slightly, a plan beginning to form in his mind. "If that''s what you want, Lhum''Baggar," he said, his voice low and steady, "then let''s do this." Without wasting another moment, Volk lunged forward, feigning an attack with his right hand. As expected, Lhum''Baggar''s ax was there to meet it, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. But Volk was already a step ahead. He twisted his body, letting the ax graze his left hand, slicing through his fingers. The pain was sharp, searing, but Volk didn''t let it slow him down. Instead, he used the momentum to flick his hand, sending a spray of blood directly into Lhum''Baggar''s eyes. Lhum''Baggar roared in surprise, instinctively raising his hands to wipe the blood from his face, his vision momentarily obscured. It was all the opening Volk needed. Without hesitation, Volk swung his right arm, bringing down the club with thorns that he had been gripping tightly. The weapon crashed into Lhum''Baggar''s side with a resounding thud, the force of the blow reverberating through the cavern. The surrounding orcs erupted in shouts, their voices a mix of shock and excitement as they watched the unexpected turn of events. Lhum''Baggar staggered, his hand still clutching his ax, but his movements were unsteady, his balance disrupted by the sudden, blinding attack. Volk didn''t stop. He pressed the advantage, his movements fueled by adrenaline and the deep, burning desire to prove himself. He swung the club again, this time aiming for Lhum''Baggar''s legs, forcing the larger orc to stumble back. Each strike was calculated, precise, aimed at keeping Lhum''Baggar off balance, preventing him from regaining his composure. But Lhum''Baggar wasn''t done yet. He snarled, his teeth bared in a feral grin as he finally managed to clear his vision. His eyes blazed with fury, his pride wounded by the unexpected assault. "You''ll pay for that," he growled, swinging his ax wildly, trying to regain control of the fight. Volk narrowly dodged the first swing, the blade whistling past his ear. He could feel the wind from the ax''s movement, a reminder of just how close he had come to being decapitated. But Volk wasn''t about to back down. He knew he couldn''t match Lhum''Baggar''s brute strength, but he didn''t need to. He just needed to outthink him. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. As Lhum''Baggar swung again, Volk ducked low, rolling to the side and coming up behind him. He brought the club down hard on the back of Lhum''Baggar''s knee, forcing the larger orc to drop to one leg. Lhum''Baggar roared in frustration, but Volk didn''t let up. Roar! He moved quickly, using his smaller size and speed to his advantage, striking at vulnerable points, chipping away at Lhum''Baggar''s defenses. The battle was fierce, each strike met with a counter, each blow pushing both orcs closer to their limits. Sweat and blood mixed on the ground, the air thick with the scent of iron and the sound of grunts, growls, and the clash of weapons. But Volk could feel it¡ªLhum''Baggar was slowing down due to the hit on the temple and the ear upon the first contact. The repeated blows to his legs, the blood in his eyes, the relentless assault was taking its toll. He was powerful, yes, but Volk was cunning, and in this fight, cunning was winning out. Finally, with a roar of determination, Volk swung his club with all his might, aiming for Lhum''Baggar''s side once more. Kabag! The impact was solid, the force driving the wind out of Lhum''Baggar''s lungs and sending him crashing to the ground. His ax clattered away from his grasp, now was out of reach. Volk stood over him, breathing heavily, with his body screaming in pain, but his eyes filled with resolve. Lhum''Baggar looked up at him, his expression a mixture of shock, anger, and something else¡ªrespect. With a final, defiant growl, Lhum''Baggar made to stand, but Volk was faster. Bang! Chapter 37: Axe of Dissection The bang echoed through the cavern, a sharp contrast to the raw sounds of battle that had filled the space moments before. Volk, muscles tensed and breath heavy, stared down at Lhum''Baggar, his club still raised, ready to deliver the final blow. But something had stopped him. He felt the resistance of another weapon meeting him, the force jolting up his arm and halting his movement. Volk''s eyes darted upward, and there, standing between him and Lhum''Baggar, was another orc, one of the surrounding warriors who had been watching their brutal contest. The new orc was tall, his frame broad and powerful, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of respect and authority. "Enough," the orc said, his voice commanding yet calm. "You''ve won, Volk, the great Mag''Durotan." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, his gaze flickering between Lhum''Baggar and the new orc. The tension in the air was thick, charged with the lingering energy of the fight. The orc who had intervened lowered his weapon, stepping back slightly as he continued speaking. "If you kill him now, Lhum''Baggar will be forced into his Grum-gar form," the orc explained, his tone serious. "And if that happens, our combat force will be diminished. There are still monsters and other orc tribes inside these catacombs, and we need every capable warrior we have. It would be bad for all of us." Volk hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing on his shoulder. He looked down at Lhum''Baggar, who was still pinned beneath him, breathing heavily, but the defiance in his eyes had dulled, replaced by something closer to acceptance. Slowly, Volk let his grip on the club loosen, allowing his body to slump as he stepped back. His legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to the ground with a thud, his body finally yielding to the exhaustion that had been clawing at him throughout the fight. A moment of silence passed before the surrounding orcs erupted into cheers, their voices echoing off the stone walls. "VOLK MOG''GER!" they roared in unison, "VOLK MOG''GER! VOLK MOG''GER!" The sound washed over Volk, a strange mix of exhilaration and relief settling in his chest. He had done it¡ªhe had won. And not just any victory, but a hard-fought, honorable one. The chants continued, growing louder, their rhythm matching the pounding of Volk''s heart. He couldn''t help but feel a swell of pride as the orcs celebrated his victory. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but one he found himself strangely enjoying. As the cheers began to die down, the orcs gathered around Volk and Lhum''Baggar, their voices a mixture of admiration and curiosity. One of them, a grizzled orc with a scar running down the side of his face, stepped forward, reaching into a pouch at his waist. He pulled out a small, rough bundle and tossed it toward Volk, who caught it reflexively. The bundle was made of animal skin, and Volk could feel a liquid sloshing inside as he shook it near his ear. "What''s this?" Volk asked, his voice hoarse from the exertion of the fight. The scarred orc grinned, a toothy smile that revealed sharp, yellowed teeth. "That," he said, nodding toward the bundle in Volk''s hand, "is a dreg. It''s the leftover from high-level magic crystals. The elders don''t have much use for it anymore, but it''s still potent enough to heal minor wounds if you drink it." Volk looked at the bundle in his hand, then back at the scarred orc, skepticism evident in his eyes. "You sure this isn''t just some kind of poison?" The orc laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "If we wanted you dead, Volk Mog''ger, you''d already be rotting on the ground. Go ahead, drink it. It''ll help." With a shrug, Volk unwrapped the bundle, revealing a small, crude flask made from hollowed bone. He uncorked it and, after a brief sniff, tilted it back, letting the liquid flow down his throat. The taste was bitter, almost metallic, but as soon as it hit his stomach, he felt a warm buzz spread through his body. The wounds and bruises that had been screaming for attention moments before seemed to dull, the pain ebbing away as the magic took effect. Gulping the last of the liquid, Volk wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at his body. Slowly but surely, the cuts and bruises began to heal, the flesh knitting itself back together as the magic worked its way through him. "Not bad," Volk muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Just as the warmth from the dreg began to settle into a comforting hum, Lhum''Baggar approached him, his steps heavy but resolute. The tension between them had shifted, the animosity that had driven their fight now replaced with something more respectful. Lhum''Baggar stopped in front of Volk, his eyes steady as he regarded the orc who had bested him. "I lost fair and square," he admitted, his voice devoid of bitterness. "You''re the real Kaz''rogal, Volk. I can see that now." Volk met his gaze, surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. The Lhum''Baggar who stood before him now was different from the arrogant warrior he had fought moments ago. There was a sense of humility in his words, a recognition of Volk''s strength and skill. Then, as if remembering something, Lhum''Baggar tilted his head slightly, his expression curious. "Do you know what my ax is called?" Volk frowned, not sure where this was leading. "Your ax?" Lhum''Baggar nodded, gesturing to the weapon that had fallen to the ground during their fight. "It''s called the Ax of Dissection. It has a unique ability¡ªanyone who''s struck by it will lose twice the amount of blood as normal. I was wondering how you managed to use that against me when you splattered your blood in my eyes." Volk''s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn''t known that about the ax. His plan had been simple¡ªuse a small amount of blood to blind Lhum''Baggar, creating an opening for an attack. However, now that he thought about it, there had been more blood than he''d expected, a veritable spray that had caught Lhum''Baggar off guard. "I didn''t know," Volk admitted, shaking his head. "I just wanted to blind you. I didn''t realize your ax would make that much blood." Lhum''Baggar chuckled, the sound surprisingly good-natured. "Well, it worked better than you could''ve planned. And for that, you deserve this." He reached down and picked up the Ax of Dissection, holding it out to Volk with both hands. "As a sign of your victory, and as a sign that you''re the new leader of this expedition, I want you to have it." Volk stared at the ax, stunned by the offer. The weapon was finely crafted, its blade gleaming even in the dim light of the cavern. Taking it from Lhum''Baggar, Volk felt the weight of it in his hands, the power that seemed to hum from within the metal. Just then, a familiar sound chimed in Volk''s mind: | Ding! | You have completed the mission. | Reward: Basic Mastery of Ax Handling. | As the knowledge flowed into his mind, Volk felt a surge of confidence. He began to play with the ax, twirling it much like Lhum''Baggar had done earlier. The surrounding orcs watched in astonishment as Volk handled the weapon with newfound ease, the Basic Mastery enhancing his understanding and control of the ax. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, their awe evident as Volk effortlessly spun the ax, the blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. Lhum''Baggar watched with a wide grin, clearly impressed. Finally, Lhum''Baggar raised Volk''s hand into the air, his voice booming across the cavern. "To our new leader!" The cheers erupted once more, filling the cavern with the sound of victory. "VOLK MOG''GER! VOLK MOG''GER!" "VOLK MOG''GER! VOLK MOG''GER!" "VOLK MOG''GER! VOLK MOG''GER!" The chant echoed off the stone walls, a testament to Volk''s triumph and the respect he had earned among his peers. As the cheers continued, Volk stood tall, the Ax of Dissection in his hand and the weight of leadership settling on his shoulders. He had come a long way from the labor orc he once was. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Now, he was more than that. He was a leader, a warrior, and most of all, a survivor. Chapter 38: Perfect Leader The group of orcs, now under Volk''s leadership, marched forward through the winding corridors of the catacombs. The flickering light from their torches cast long shadows on the stone walls, creating an eerie atmosphere that would have unsettled any ordinary orc. But the Dreadmaw Clan was anything but ordinary. Each step echoed in the silence, but there was no fear in their hearts¡ªonly a sense of purpose. Volk, at the front of the group, felt the weight of his new role pressing down on him. He was their leader now, and he intended to lead them well. Their journey has been remarkably smooth so far. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and the occasional whiff of decay, but nothing seemed to challenge their advance. It was almost too easy. As they moved deeper into the catacombs, they passed several other orcish bodies, sprawled lifeless on the ground. Some were from rival clans, their armor and weapons distinctive in the dim light, but all bore the same gruesome fate. The group slowed to a stop as they came across yet another cluster of dead orcs. One of the Dreadmaw warriors, a burly orc with a jagged scar running across his cheek, turned to Volk with a puzzled expression. "How come we haven''t run into any monsters?" he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet. "Usually, these dungeons are swarming with creatures ready to rip us apart, but it''s been quiet. Too quiet." Grok''Thar, who had been walking just behind Volk, let out a hearty laugh. "You lot haven''t figured it out yet?" he said, clapping the questioning orc on the back. "It''s because of Volk here!" The other orcs looked at Grok''Thar in confusion, clearly not understanding. Volk himself raised an eyebrow, curious about what his friend would say next. Grok''Thar grinned widely, showing off his sharp teeth. "You see, Volk might have been a Labor Orc, but that''s exactly why we haven''t seen any monsters. His body is riddled with hazardous magic particles, so much so that the monsters probably think he''s some kind of powerful beast. They''re scared of him, that''s why they''re avoiding us!" The orcs stared at Volk, their expressions a mix of awe and shock. They had known he was different, that he had been a Labor Orc before proving his worth in combat, but they hadn''t realized just how much his past had affected him. One of the orcs, a younger warrior with bright, curious eyes, stepped closer to Volk, examining him as if seeing him for the first time. "I knew you were tough," he said slowly, "but I didn''t think it was to this extent." Volk shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the attention. He had never asked for any of this¡ªbeing a Labor Orc was something he had been born into, not something he had chosen. Yet here he was, leading a group of warriors through a deadly catacomb, and apparently scaring away monsters just by his presence. Grok''Thar, noticing Volk''s discomfort, decided to lighten the mood. "You should have seen some of the things that happened before we met up with you all," he said, chuckling. "There was this one time we were about to be ambushed by a pack of something¡ªI couldn''t even tell what they were, just a blur of teeth and claws¡ªand the moment they caught wind of Volk, they turned tail and ran! Didn''t even give us a chance to swing our weapons. They just bolted like their tails were on fire!" The orcs laughed, the tension easing as Grok''Thar continued to recount the strange and funny encounters they''d had while traveling with Volk. The mood in the group lifted as they realized just how fortunate they were to have such an intimidating presence leading them. But the light-hearted atmosphere didn''t last long. As they continued their journey, Lhum''Baggar approached Volk, his expression serious. He walked beside Volk in silence for a few moments, as if gathering his thoughts, before finally speaking. "Volk," Lhum''Baggar began, his voice low, "I''ve been thinking about something. About those hazardous magic particles in your body." Volk glanced at him, curious. "What about them?" Lhum''Baggar hesitated, his brow furrowing in thought. "Do you know the extent of how hazardous they are?" Volk shook his head. With a cross finger, he would lie. "I don''t. All I know is that they''ve been with me for as long as I can remember. Back when I was a Labor Orc, it was just something I lived with." Lhum''Baggar nodded slowly, as if that confirmed something for him. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I remember now¡­ back when we were preparing to enter these catacombs, I forgot about something that happened with you and a warthog." Then he would swallow his saliva, "Do you remember the Adulthood ceremony?" Volk''s interest piqued. "The ceremony of Adulthood?" "Yes," Lhum''Baggar continued. "Most of the adult orcs, especially the strongest warriors in the tribe, don''t pay much attention to that ceremony. But what they do is double-check if the chosen Orc and the talented Elf are perfect for each other. If an orc has extremely hazardous magic particles in their body, it means there''s a chance that they might produce less talented offspring. And in such cases, the tribe''s elders will break the bond between the Labor Orc and the Elf." Volk''s eyes widened as he processed Lhum''Baggar''s words. "You mean¡­ they would take the Elf away from the Orc?" Lhum''Baggar nodded solemnly. "Yes. If the Orc is deemed too hazardous, they will take away his partner or wife and replace him with another Orc¡ªone who''s stronger, more suitable to produce talented offspring." A cold fury began to build in Volk''s chest as the implications of Lhum''Baggar''s words sank in. "So, you''re saying¡­ Solluha''r could be taken from me?" Lhum''Baggar didn''t respond immediately, his silence speaking volumes. But he remembers her, his brother. Still, he looked at Volk with a mixture of sympathy and understanding, knowing all too well the pain of such a realization. "Yes," Lhum''Baggar finally said. "It''s a possibility." Volk clenched his fists, his anger and fear battling for control. Solluha''r was very useful to him. The thought of losing her, of having her taken away because of something he had no control over, was unbearable. The rage inside him boiled over, but he forced himself to stay calm. There had to be a way to prevent it. There had to be something he could do. "What can I do to stop this?" Volk asked, his voice tight with desperation. "How can I prevent them from taking her?" Lhum''Baggar shook his head slowly, his expression regretful. "I don''t know, Volk. I wish I did, but I don''t. The elders make those decisions, and they''re not easily swayed. Your hazardous particles¡­ they''re not something you can just get rid of." Volk felt a deep sense of hopelessness settle over him. He was ready to face down orcs, monsters, and challenges that would have broken lesser warriors, but this¡ªthis was something else entirely. This was a fight he didn''t know how to win. As they continued to walk, the weight of Lhum''Baggar''s words hung heavily in the air. Volk''s mind raced, searching for solutions, for any way he could protect Solluha''r and their future together. But for now, there were no easy answers. All he could do was keep moving forward, leading his warriors deeper into the catacombs, all while wrestling with the fear that he might lose the one thing he needed the most. Chapter 39: Solution As the group of orcs continued their journey through the catacombs, the oppressive silence of the dark tunnels was broken only by the occasional clank of armor and the shuffling of heavy feet on stone. Volk walked at the head of the group, his mind still troubled by the conversation he had with Lhum''Baggar. The thought of losing Solluha''r was indeed heavy even if he denies it, and the uncertainty of what awaited them at the end of this expedition only added to his worries. Suddenly, one of the orcs in the group moved up to walk beside Volk and Lhum''Baggar. He was a broad-shouldered, muscular orc with a long, jagged scar running from his forehead to his chin. His eyes were a sharp, intelligent green, and his presence commanded respect from the others. "I am Grashk, son of Kor''Thul, known as the Child Protector," the orc introduced himself, his voice deep and resonant. "My father was a respected warrior, and I have earned my title by ensuring the safety of the young ones in our clan. But today, I may have a solution to your problem, Volk." Volk, intrigued by the orc''s confident tone, turned to him. "What solution do you speak of?" Grashk nodded, as if he had been expecting the question. "At the end of this tunnel, there lies a special crystal, one that is a thousand times more valuable than the scattered crystals we''ve seen here and there. This crystal is no ordinary gem¡ªit is said to be infused with ancient magic, capable of swaying even the most stubborn elders. If you were to obtain it and offer it to the elders, they might reconsider taking your wife from you." Volk''s interest was piqued, but he remained cautious. "Might? They might reconsider?" Grashk met Volk''s gaze steadily. "Yes, might. It is not a guarantee, but it is better than nothing. The elders are bound by tradition and the will of the tribe, but they also respect power and sacrifice. Offering them something of such value could sway their decision." Volk considered the orc''s words. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The idea of finding this crystal was appealing, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. Still, as Grashk had pointed out, it was better than doing nothing. He nodded slowly. "Very well. We''ll find this crystal." The group continued forward with renewed determination, the promise of the crystal driving them onward. The tunnel ahead seemed to stretch on endlessly, the darkness thickening around them as they delved deeper into the catacombs. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sounds of their footsteps and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling. After what felt like hours of walking, Volk''s mind began to wander. The more he thought about the crystal, the more questions arose in his mind. Something didn''t quite add up. Finally, unable to shake the feeling that something was off, Volk broke the silence. "Why haven''t we seen any crystals around here?" he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet. "In all this time, we''ve come across dead orcs and empty tunnels, but not a single crystal. Why is that?" The other orcs exchanged uneasy glances, hesitant to answer. Finally, Grashk spoke up, his voice carefully measured. "The other orc tribes came to this place first. They''ve already taken the crystals from these tunnels. That''s why we haven''t seen any." Volk frowned, not entirely satisfied with the answer. "And why are we following the same path as those other tribes? Why not take a different tunnel, one they haven''t explored yet?" The orcs were silent for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. Finally, one of the older orcs spoke up, his voice respectful but firm. "Because the other tunnels are more dangerous, Volk. There are beasts in those tunnels, unknown creatures that we''ve never encountered before. The dangers there are greater, and the risk of losing our lives is too high." Volk raised an eyebrow. "What kind of dangers?" The older orc hesitated before answering, clearly wary of spooking the group. "There are four dangerous tunnels, each with its own threats. Some say there are creatures there that are unlike anything we''ve faced before¡ªgiant, skinless beasts, swarms of venomous insects, and shadows that move of their own accord, not just the same monster that is common inside this dungeon. And in one of the tunnels, there could be creatures that are said to be as powerful as a Level 5 Mag''Durotan. So it would be better to follow their paths¡­" The mention of a creature as powerful as a Mag''Durotan sent a ripple of unease through the group. Even Volk felt a chill run down his spine at the thought. But as he processed the information, another thought struck him, and he stopped in his tracks. The orcs behind him halted as well, looking at him in confusion. Volk turned to face them, his eyes narrowing in thought. "What happened to the creatures we were supposed to encounter in this tunnel? If there are beasts in those other tunnels, why haven''t we seen any here? The only thing we''ve come across are the bodies of orcs from other tribes. Where are the monsters?" The orcs stared at Volk, suddenly a realization slowly dawning on them. Grok''Thar, who had been listening quietly, suddenly let out a laugh. "Of course! The monsters are scared of you, Volk! They''re avoiding us because of the hazardous magic particles in your body. They think you''re some kind of powerful beast!" The other orcs looked at Volk with wide eyes, the truth of Grok''Thar''s words settling in. If the creatures in this tunnel were avoiding them because of Volk, then there was no reason to fear the dangers of the other tunnels. With Volk leading them, they had nothing to worry about. One of the younger orcs, his face lighting up with excitement, pumped his fist in the air. "Then what are we waiting for? Let''s head to the other tunnels! If the leader''s presence is enough to scare off the monsters, we can gather all the crystals we want without any trouble!" The rest of the group quickly joined in, their earlier fear and hesitation replaced by enthusiasm. They began to cheer, their voices echoing off the stone walls. "Volk! Volk! Volk!" Volk couldn''t help but smile at their enthusiasm. He hadn''t expected this outcome, but it was clear that his presence was a powerful advantage. With renewed determination, he led the group back through the tunnel they had come from, heading toward one of the unexplored tunnels. As they entered the new tunnel, the air felt different. It was heavier, charged with an unseen energy. But the orcs didn''t falter. They pressed forward, their excitement growing with each step. And as they went deeper into the tunnel, their eyes began to catch the glimmer of something in the darkness. Crystals. The walls of the tunnel were studded with them, glowing faintly in the dim light. The orcs let out triumphant shouts, their hands reaching for the crystals and quickly filling their bags with the precious stones. It was a treasure trove beyond their wildest dreams. Volk watched with satisfaction as his warriors gathered the crystals, their earlier fears forgotten. The tunnel, which had seemed so foreboding at first, was now a source of great wealth. And all because the creatures that usually guarded these places were too afraid to face him. The group moved through the tunnel like a well-oiled machine, gathering crystals with practiced efficiency. Their bags were soon bulging with the precious stones, and the mood among the orcs was jubilant. They laughed and joked as they worked, their voices filled with the thrill of victory. "Can you believe it?" one of the orcs said, his voice full of awe. "We''ve filled our bags in no time! And it''s all thanks to Volk!" "Aye!" another orc agreed. "We''re lucky to have him as our leader. The beasts didn''t stand a chance!" "We''re going to be rich!" a third orc exclaimed, holding up a particularly large crystal with a grin. The mood was infectious, and soon the entire group was celebrating their good fortune. They slapped each other on the back, their laughter ringing out through the tunnel. Volk couldn''t help but feel a sense of pride. He had led them to this victory, and their success was undeniable. But just as the group''s celebration reached its peak, a sound cut through the air¡ªfaint at first, but growing louder with each passing moment. The orcs fell silent, their laughter dying on their lips as they strained to listen. It was the sound of battle. The clashing of weapons, the shouts of warriors, and the roars of something inhuman. The orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier joy replaced by a growing sense of unease. Volk''s hand tightened around the hilt of his weapon as he listened to the sounds of the distant fight. Whatever was happening up ahead, it was something they couldn''t ignore. The celebration was over. It was time to face whatever it is. Chapter 40: Some Orc Rules "What''s happening up there?" Volk demanded, with a low growl. One of the orcs, a younger warrior with a deep scar running down his cheek, answered, "A battle, Leader. It sounds like a fight between another clan and... something else." Volk''s eyes narrowed. "Should we interfere?" The orcs exchanged uneasy glances. Another orc, this one seemed older and more experienced due to his beard, stepped forward to explain. "Let''s, it''s forbidden to interfere with the business of other clans, whether they are in need of help or not. To do so would be seen as a challenge to their strength and their honor." The orc''s voice was steady, but there was a tension beneath it, a tension that carried the weight of ancient traditions and unspoken laws. "In the catacombs, every clan must fight its own battles. If we were to interfere, it would be seen as an insult, a sign that we think them too weak to handle their own affairs. And in our world, an insult like that is answered with blood." Another orc added, his tone grim, "If we step in now, they might challenge us once we''re back at the tribe. Blood feuds could be sparked, alliances shattered. It''s not just about the fight in front of us, Volk. It''s about the balance of power between the clans, the respect we must show each other even in this place." Volk listened, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He understood the rules, the unspoken agreements that kept the fragile peace between the clans. But the thought of standing idle while a battle raged nearby felt like something was eating his intestine. He was a warrior, bred for the heat of combat, not for the cold calculations of politics. "So we just wait here? Like a kid waiting for their parents permission?" Volk''s voice was sharp, tinged with frustration. He would remember when he was used to that, he hated it. Plus, he needed to check out something. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The older orc nodded solemnly. "Yes, we wait. It''s the only way to avoid unnecessary conflict. We don''t want to make enemies when we''ve already got enough to deal with in these catacombs." Volk shook his head, his jaw set in a hard line. "That can''t be done. I''m not going to stand here and wait, I will pass through them if they want." He could feel the bloodlust rising in him, the urge to charge into the fray and smash his enemies into the ground. Another orc, sensing Volk''s growing frustration, stepped forward. "Volk, if we interfere, it could lead to a war between the younger generation of our clans. We need to think about what''s best for our people, not just our pride." But Volk was already moving, his feet carrying him forward before he could even think. "It doesn''t matter," he said, his voice low and determined. "I''ll smash them all, no matter who stands in my way." The orcs behind him exchanged looks of shock and disbelief. They had seen Volk in battle before, knew his strength, but this was different. He was defying the rules, challenging the very foundations of their society. Yet, as they watched Volk''s determined stride, a few of them felt a thrill of excitement. They had followed Volk this far, trusted his instincts and his power. And now, as he led them toward the sounds of battle, they couldn''t help but feel a surge of pride. "Let''s go!" one of the younger orcs shouted, his voice filled with adrenaline. The others hesitated for only a moment before following. They fell in behind Volk, their weapons at the ready, their minds focused on the coming fight. Whatever happened next, they knew they would follow Volk to the end, after all, he is now their leader. As they emerged into a wider cavern, the sight that greeted them was one of chaos and violence. The Bloodfang clan, known for their fierce warriors and unyielding spirit, was locked in a brutal struggle with a pack of massive, snarling dogs. These beasts were like nothing Volk had ever seen before¡ªmuscular and powerful, with the build of a pit bull but standing nearly as tall as the orcs themselves. Their eyes glowed with a savage intelligence, and their jaws snapped at anything that moved, teeth flashing like daggers in the dim light. The Bloodfang orcs fought valiantly, their axes and swords cleaving through the air with deadly precision. They moved with the fluidity of seasoned warriors, their bodies hardened by countless battles. But despite their skill, the dogs were relentless, their strength seemingly inexhaustible. One Bloodfang orc, a massive figure with war paint smeared across his face, let out a furious roar as he buried his ax into the side of a dog, only for another to leap at him from behind. The orc twisted just in time, slashing the beast''s throat open, but the bloodied warrior staggered, barely able to keep his footing. The battle raged on, the cavern echoing with the sounds of snarling, the clash of steel, and the cries of wounded orcs. But then, something changed. The dogs, those ferocious beasts, suddenly froze mid-attack. Their snarls ceased, their ears perked up, and their glowing eyes shifted to a single point in the cavern. The Bloodfang orcs, panting and bloodied, paused in confusion. They followed the gaze of the dogs, and their eyes widened in shock. The entire pack of monstrous hounds, just moments ago on the verge of overwhelming the Bloodfang warriors, was now retreating, their tails tucked between their legs, their whimpers echoing off the cavern walls. "Wh-what''s going on?" one of the Bloodfang orcs muttered, wiping blood from his brow as he stared in disbelief. The answer came soon enough as a line of orcs emerged from the darkness, their silhouettes gradually becoming clearer. It was the Dreadmaw clan, led by Volk at the forefront, walking in a straight, unbroken line. The sight was imposing, and somehow, they could feel their presence sending a shiver down the spines of the Bloodfang warriors. "How...?" another Bloodfang orc began, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and fear. "How did the Dreadmaw clan get here? They were the last to enter the catacombs. How are they here, overtaking everyone?" The dogs, now fully aware of the approaching Dreadmaw orcs, let out high-pitched whines, the sound of their fear clear as day. They scrambled over each other, their once mighty forms reduced to cowering beasts as they fled into the darkness, their retreat a stark contrast to the dominance they had shown just moments before. The Bloodfang orcs were left standing in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they watched the spectacle. The enemy that had nearly driven them to the brink of defeat was now fleeing, not from their blades, but from the presence of Volk and his warriors. "They''re scared... of them?" one of the Bloodfang orcs whispered, disbelief coloring his tone. But as they stood there, trying to process what they were seeing, memories surfaced in their minds. Stories, whispers of rumors, about the Dreadmaw clan''s strange new leader, an orc who was not like the others. An orc whose body was riddled with hazardous magic particles, making him a terror to any who crossed his path. Before the Bloodfang warriors could fully grasp the situation, one of them, unable to contain his shock any longer, let out a shout. "Hey!!" His voice echoed through the cavern, a mixture of anger and confusion. The rest of the Bloodfang clan turned their attention fully to the approaching Dreadmaw orcs, their weapons still gripped tightly in their hands, unsure whether to prepare for a fight or to thank the gods for their unexpected saviors. Volk, his eyes scanning the battlefield, met the gaze of the Bloodfang leader. There was a moment of silence between them, an unspoken understanding passing through the air. The Dreadmaw orcs came to a stop, their formation solid and unmoving, as if waiting for some sign or signal from Volk. The Bloodfang leader, his chest heaving from the exertion of battle, took a cautious step forward. "Dreadmaw Clan," he called out, his voice carrying across the cavern. "Why are you all here? What do you want? Why do you all interfere? Do you all have any idea what you are doing?" Volk, his expression unreadable, simply raised his head slightly, his eyes flickering with a cold, determined light. "I heard the sounds of battle," he replied, his voice steady. "And I don''t stand by when I can pass through this easily." The Bloodfang leader''s eyes narrowed slightly. He knew the rules of the clans, knew the implications of Volk''s presence here. But he also knew that without the Dreadmaw orcs'' sudden appearance, the battle might have ended very differently for his clan. "Your timing is... fortunate," the Bloodfang leader said carefully, his voice still tinged with caution. Volk didn''t respond immediately. Instead, he let his gaze sweep across the battlefield, taking in the wounded orcs, the blood-stained ground, and the retreating forms of the hounds. He could feel the weight of tradition and expectation pressing down on him, but his instincts, as if honed through countless battles of his ancestors, told him something different. "I''m not here to challenge you," Volk said finally, his voice firm. "But I won''t stand by and do nothing at the side like a child waiting for his ration. If you see this as a challenge, so be it. I''m ready." Chapter 41: Final Dungeon Boss Altar The silence that followed Volk''s words was heavy with unspoken tension. The Bloodfang leader, a seasoned warrior with countless battles etched into his memory, locked eyes with Volk. He could sense the raw power emanating from the unknown Dreadmaw orc, a pressure he couldn''t comprehend. There was something more, something ancient and terrible that lurked beneath Volk''s calm exterior. Yet, to the surprise of his own warriors, the Bloodfang leader did not respond with the expected fury or challenge. Instead, he remained silent, his gaze piercing but contemplative. Volk, noting the lack of response, allowed a small, knowing smile to touch his lips. "It would be unsatisfactory to beat you all here and now," Volk said, his voice low but carrying the weight of his conviction. "You''ve just fought a battle, and I would gain little from defeating tired warriors." Without waiting for a reply, Volk turned on his heel and began to walk away, and his steps were measured and unhurried. As he moved, he added over his shoulder, "If you really want to find me, once all of you are healed, I am Volk Mog''ger, the heir of Kazrogal. Come to my Dreadmaw clan, and I will accept all your challenges." Those words were like a gauntlet thrown down at the Bloodfang orcs, a promise of future reckoning that left the Bloodfang warriors in a stunned silence. Because of this, they could only watch as Volk and his orcs disappeared into the shadows, with their forms gradually blending into the darkness of the catacombs. As the last of the Dreadmaw orcs vanished from sight, one of the Bloodfang warriors stepped forward, with furrowed brow in confusion and frustration. "Leader, why didn''t you accept his challenge? We''re the Bloodfang! We don''t back down from anyone!" The Bloodfang leader, still gazing in the direction Volk had gone, let out a slow breath. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully before he turned to face his warrior. "We need to heal first," he said, his tone calm and measured. "We''ve just fought a fierce battle, and our strength is not at its peak." "But leader¡ª" the warrior began, but the leader held up a hand to silence him. "Volk was right," the Bloodfang leader continued, his voice tinged with a grudging respect. "He could see that defeating us now would bring him no satisfaction. The desire to battle wasn''t in his eyes. There was something more, something... different. He would have felt it was an unsatisfactory victory, even if he won." The warrior frowned, still struggling to understand. "But we could have¡ª" "No," the leader cut him off, his voice firm. "Remember this, all of you. Remember his name: Volk Mog''ger, the Beast Nemesis. We will remember him, and when the time comes, we will face him. But not now." The Bloodfang leader''s gaze swept over his warriors, the fierce determination in his eyes unmistakable. "For now, heal your wounds and prepare for the next battle. We''ll need our full strength to face whatever lies ahead." As his warriors dispersed to tend to their injuries, the Bloodfang leader stood alone for a moment longer, his thoughts still lingering on the Dreadmaw leader Volk. The name "Mog''ger" echoed in his mind, resonating with a sense of foreboding and challenge. He knew there was something in him why, even as a stage three Mag''Durotan, he was their leader. However, he also knew that this encounter was only the beginning, and that they wood cross their paths once gone. However, the Bloodfangs were no strangers to peril, and they would be ready when the time came. ¡­ Meanwhile, deep within the labyrinthine tunnels of the catacombs, Volk led his orcs forward with a steady pace. The darkness pressed in around them, but Volk''s eyes remained fixed on the path ahead, with his thoughts now far from the recent encounter. The orcs behind him were in awe. They knew the Bloodfangs¡ªfierce, unyielding, and among the most formidable of all the orc tribes. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. To see their leader back down, even momentarily, was nothing short of astonishing. It was clear to them now that Volk was a force to be reckoned with, a leader whose mere presence could turn the tide of a battle. Grashk, acting as if he was one of Volk''s most trusted lieutenants, walked beside him, with his mind thinking of the implications of what had just transpired. The respect he felt for Volk had grown even deeper, but there was also a sense of curiosity gnawing at him. "Tell me, Grashk," Volk''s voice broke through the silence, his tone thoughtful. "Are there any serious threats protecting the special crystal you spoke of?" Grashk nodded, his expression grave. "Yes, leader. The crystal is said to be guarded by the dungeon boss¡ªa creature of immense power, compared to these scared dungeon monsters in your presence. But maybe, leader, the dungeon boss would also be scared of you, graha!" Volk''s eyes flickered with interest. "I see." There was a brief pause as Volk considered this information. He could feel the tension in his muscles easing slightly, he asked this because of desperation, desperate to test something¡ªto push the limits of his abilities and see just what his new form, the Radioactive form, was truly capable of. He wanted to know the difference between his Radioactive form and the Grum-gar orc form. Anotherinh thing¡­ The Nuclear Devastation Slaps, a technique he wanted to understand. So, he was getting itchy, he desired for battle and needed to test all of these against the strongest opponents he could find. But now, with the promise of a confrontation with the dungeon boss looming on the horizon, Volk felt a sense of clarity settling over him. The answers he sought were within reach, and he knew that once he had them, he would be unstoppable. Even the elders of his tribe, who had long held the reins of power, would not be able to stand against him. The journey through the catacombs continued, the oppressive darkness surrounding them like a shroud. The tunnels twisted and turned, the air growing colder and thicker with every step. As they traveled deeper, the orcs encountered strange and fearsome creatures¡ªhumanoid dogs with fierce, glowing eyes, their bodies were twisted and warped by the dark magic that permeated the catacombs. These beasts were fierce, their growls low and menacing as they emerged from the shadows, but as soon as they caught sight of Volk and his orcs, something would change. The hostility in their eyes would, replaced by a flicker of fear. The humanoid dogs would immediately hackles as they backed away, it was as if their instinct for survival were overriding their aggression. Volk barely spared them a glance, with an unbroken focus as he led his orcs forward. Finally, after what felt like hours of traversing the winding tunnels, they reached the end of the path. The tunnel opened up into a massive cavern, its walls lined with jagged rocks and glowing crystals that cast an eerie, pale light across the space. The air was thick with an oppressive feeling, a sense of foreboding that made the orcs pause at the entrance. Volk stepped forward and took sight of the cave. The cavern was vast, its ceiling lost in the darkness above, and at its center stood a massive structure¡ªan ancient altar, carved from black stone and surrounded by swirling mists of dark energy. The oppressive feeling in the air grew stronger as they approached, the very ground beneath their feet seeming to hum with power. Volk could feel it¡ªan ancient, malevolent presence that radiated from the altar, a presence that promised both great danger and great reward. "This is it," Volk murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "The end of the tunnel." The orcs behind him remained silent, but all their eyes were fixed on the altar. They could feel it too¡ªthe presence that awaited them, the dungeon boss that guarded the crystal they sought was near. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, not with fear, but with anticipation. This was the moment he had been waiting for¡ªthe chance to test his abilities. He could feel the power surging within him, the radioactive energy that pulsed through his veins, ready to be unleashed. With a final, determined breath, Volk stepped forward, with his eyes locking on the altar. Chapter 42: Hordes Decision As Volk stood before the massive cavern, an oppressive energy pulsing in the air, he prepared himself for the challenge ahead. His thoughts were focused, his senses heightened, every fiber of his being attuned to the task at hand. However, just as he took a step forward, ready to confront whatever lay hiding in the darkness, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Volk, wait," one of the orcs behind him called out, his voice laced with hesitation. Volk halted, turning to face his comrades. The sight that greeted him was unexpected¡ªexpressions of uncertainty, fear, and doubt written across their faces. It was a look Volk recognized all too well, a look that stirred memories from a life he had long since left behind. He remembered being confined to a wheelchair, yearning to do things others took for granted, but being held back by his own limitations. It was a look of someone wanting to speak, but unsure if they should. "I am your leader," Volk began, his voice firm yet gentle. "You''re all my responsibility. What is it?" The orc who had stopped him hesitated, glancing at his comrades before speaking. "We''ve been thinking... Maybe we should go back and apologize to the Bloodfang clan for what we did. We don''t want enmity with them, Volk. They''re one of the strongest clans, and... and we''re just hunters, not warriors." The words hung in the air like a stone dropped into a still pond, the ripples of their meaning spreading through the group. Before Volk could respond, Lhum''Baggar, a fierce warrior with a fiery temper, stepped forward and shoved the orc who had spoken, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Are you out of your mind?" Lhum''Baggar roared, his voice echoing through the cavern. "That''s the talk of a coward! A weakling! You''d rather grovel at the feet of the Bloodfang than stand tall as an orc? Have you forgotten what it means to be one of us? We are the Dreadmaw! We do not bow! We do not apologize! To show weakness like this is the most shameful thing an orc can do!" Lhum''Baggar''s outburst sent a shockwave through the group, the raw fury in his voice silencing all but the bravest among them. The orc he had pushed was quickly helped to his feet by his comrades, who glared back at Lhum''Baggar with defiance in their eyes. "We''re not all like you, Lhum''Baggar!" One of them shouted back, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. "Not all of us were raised by a warrior father who taught us weapon-handling from the time we could walk! Your father had a name, a reputation! Our fathers were not warriors¡ªthey were hunters, farmers, craftsmen! We were never meant to be bloodseekers like you!" Another orc joined in, his voice rising in support of his friend. "We''ve followed you this far because we believed in you, but we never asked for this! We don''t want to die here, in some godforsaken dungeon, just because you''re too proud to admit when you''re wrong! We don''t want to make enemies we can''t afford to have!" The argument escalated quickly, the group dividing into those who supported Lhum''Baggar and those who sided with the hesitant orcs. Grashk and Grok''Thar, both seemed loyal to Lhum''Baggar, stepped forward to back him up, their voices joining the fray. "Lhum''Baggar''s right!" Grashk shouted. "We''ve come this far because we''re orcs, and orcs don''t back down! We don''t show weakness to anyone, especially not the Bloodfang! If we go back now, we might as well be dead already!" Grok''Thar nodded in agreement, his voice booming through the cavern. "This is a test! A trial to prove ourselves! If we turn back now, we''ll never be more than hunters and farmers! We''ll never earn the respect of the clan, never be seen as true warriors!" The shouting grew louder, the tension within the group mounting as each side refused to back down. It was a scene Volk had seen before, in a different life¡ªa life where he had been a helpless observer to the arguments of his cousins, sisters, and brothers, each of them quarrelling over what was best for him, for the one who could not help himself. In that past life, Volk had hated being a burden, hated being the cause of strife and division among those he loved. He had vowed that in this new life, he would never be the source of such conflict again. He would not be a burden to those who followed him. However now, he realized, the conflict was inevitable. He could not avoid it by remaining silent. "Wait," Volk said, trying to regain control, but his voice was drowned out by the continued shouting. The argument raged on, neither side willing to give ground. Lhum''Baggar''s supporters accused the others of cowardice and betrayal, while the hesitant orcs defended their right to choose their own path, to survive rather than be sacrificed on the altar of pride. "ENOUUUUUGH!!!" Volk''s voice cut through the noise like a blade, echoing off the cavern walls with a force that demanded silence. The orcs stopped, turning to face their leader, their expressions a mix of shock and shame. The sheer power in Volk''s voice was enough to remind them of who led this group, of the respect they owed him. Volk took a deep breath, steadying himself before he spoke. "I am not a warrior," he began, his voice low but filled with the weight of his confession. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I am a Labor Orc. We are said to only strengthen ourselves in the second form once we''re in the Grum-gar form, and even then, only one percent of us or one of my offsprings of one hundred percent, will ever awaken to that form. And because of that, when I return to the clan, my current partner will be taken from me." His words hung in the air, heavy with the truth of his situation. The orcs looked at him, their anger and fear momentarily forgotten as they absorbed the reality of what Volk was saying. "But I won''t just accept that," Volk continued, his voice growing louder, more resolute. "I, Volk Mog''ger, refuse to be constrained by what others think I should be! I refuse to let them take what is mine without a fight! I want to know how strong I really am, even if it means facing death! I won''t stand idle while my fate is decided by others!" He looked each of them in the eye, his gaze unwavering. "I know it sounds crazy. I know what I''m asking is more than what most would consider reasonable. But that''s who I am. I won''t care if I offend the Bloodfang Clan, or even if I offend every single one of you. I am done living by the expectations of others." Volk''s words resonated in the hearts of his comrades, their earlier fears and doubts now overshadowed by a deep, growing respect for their leader. He had laid bare his soul before them, revealed his vulnerabilities, and in doing so, had shown them the strength of his conviction. "You can decide," Volk said, his voice softening. "Go back if you want. I won''t blame you. But I''m going forward. I have to." The orcs stood in silence, their minds racing as they processed everything Volk had said. They saw in him not just a leader, but a fellow orc who was willing to fight for his place in the world, to challenge the fate that others had tried to impose on him. They saw a reflection of their own struggles, their own fears, and their own desires for something more. One by one, they began to nod, their earlier hesitation giving way to a steely resolve. Lhum''Baggar, Grashk, Grok''Thar, and even the orcs who had been most afraid, all found themselves moved by Volk''s words. They realized that in following Volk, they weren''t just following a leader¡ªthey were following an idea, a belief that they could be more than what they were told to be. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the hesitant orcs stepped forward. "We''ll come with you, Volk," he said, his voice steady. "We won''t let you fight this alone." The others nodded in agreement, their expressions firm. They had made their choice. Volk felt a swell of emotion in his chest¡ªpride, gratitude, and a fierce determination that burned brighter than ever. He had faced his fears, his doubts, and had come out stronger. And now, with his comrades by his side, he knew that they could face whatever lay ahead. There was a long pause as they all looked at one another, the bond between them stronger than it had ever been. Then, with one voice, they roared the words that had become their rallying cry, the words that signified their unity, their resolve, and their defiance in the face of any challenge. "Lok''tar Ogar!" The cavern walls shook with the force of their cry, the sound echoing into the depths of the darkness that lay ahead. "Lok''tar Ogar!" "Lok''tar Ogar!" "Lok''tar Ogar!" Together, they would face whatever waited for them, knowing that they were not just orcs, but warriors¡ªwarriors who had chosen their own path, and who would fight for their right to walk it. "LOK''TAR OGAR!!!" And with that, they turned as one, following Volk as he led them forward into the unknown With the expression written on their faces, one could see their hearts must be filled with a renewed sense of purpose and a fire that nothing could extinguish. Chapter 43: Three headed dog, Dozer The triumphant cries of "Lok''tar Ogar!" had barely faded when an eerie, bone-chilling laughter echoed through the cavern, reverberating off the dark, jagged walls. "Kekekekeke¡­" The orcs froze, their jubilation cut short as the sinister sound filled the space, setting their nerves on an immediate edge. The laughter was high-pitched, almost mocking, and it sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest among them. "Kekekekeke¡­" Volk''s eyes narrowed as he instinctively raised his Axe of Dissection, his body tense and ready for any sudden action. The other orcs followed suit, their hands tightening around their weapons, their eyes scanning the darkness before them. The sound came from deep within the shadows, where even their keen orcish vision could not penetrate. Then, from the depths of the darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes appeared. The eyes were large, blood-red, and menacing, staring at them with an unsettling intelligence. A growl rumbled through the cavern, low and ominous, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet. Before they could react, another pair of eyes appeared, then another, until five glowing red eyes stared back at them from the void. The orcs took an involuntary step back, their hearts pounding. Whatever creature lurked within that darkness, it was no ordinary beast. The air was thick with an oppressive energy, and a sense of dread began to creep into their minds. "Kekeke¡­ An orc with good leadership," the voice sneered from the darkness, dripping with malevolence. "But it''s a pity. Your body is so full of hazardous magic particles, you''re useless to me. But you''re laughable. Do you really think you can make your dreams come true?" The voice was taunting, cruel, and as it spoke, the shape of a massive beast began to emerge from the shadows. The ground shook with each step it took, sending small rocks tumbling from the cavern walls. As the creature stepped into the dim light of the cavern, its full form was revealed¡ªa monstrous, three-headed dog, with a muscular body covered in brown fur that gleamed like polished leather. Each of its three heads bore a pair of those malevolent red eyes, glowing with a hunger that could never be sated. The beast was immense, towering over the orcs, its sheer size dwarfing them. Its body was rippling with muscle, every movement causing the ground beneath it to rumble as if the earth itself feared its presence. The three heads snapped at the air, one could see their massive jaws lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth that gleamed in the dim light. Drool dripped from its maws, sizzling as it hit the ground, burning holes into the stone. Volk and the others stared in stunned silence, their hearts racing. This was no ordinary beast; it was a monster born of nightmares, a force of nature in its own right. The orcs'' confidence wavered as they took in the sight before them, and a deep sense of dread settled in their chests. Suddenly, one of the orcs noticed something in one of the beast''s mouths¡ªa limp figure, barely recognizable through the blood and gore. The orc''s breath caught in his throat as he realized who it was. "That¡­ that''s a Shadowclaw orc¡­" he mumbled, his voice trembling with fear. The orc''s green skin was barely visible beneath the blood and wounds, and his once-proud black leather uniform, adorned with animal claws as a symbol of his clan, was torn to shreds. His lifeless body hung from the beast''s jaw, as if his fate were now sealed in the beast''s maw. The sight sent a shockwave through the group. The Shadowclaw Clan was known for their cunning and stealth, their members some of the most feared assassins among the orcish tribes. If one of their own had fallen so easily to this beast, what hope did they have? The voice laughed again, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed in their minds. "This is Dozer, a distant relative of the legendary Cerberus. He''s really hungry, and his favorite meal is rare Hornless orcs. He only needs seventy heads to reach his full rampage mode, but he doesn''t mind starting with a few now. After all, who can resist a plate of food delivered right to him?" The orcs looked around frantically, trying to locate the source of the voice, but the darkness was impenetrable, and no figure revealed itself. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, wrapping around them like a suffocating shroud. Volk''s grip tightened on his axe. | Ding! | Mission triggered. | Defeat the foe with your tribe! | Anything works! | Failure: Random removal of one of your Elemental Nuclear Strikes. | Rewards: Unknown normal ability in your Hornless Orc state. | He was surprised with the system mission, but he could feel the fear spreading through his comrades, their resolve wavering in the face of this monstrous foe. However, Volk knew they couldn''t afford to hesitate now, or the mission would fail. With a deep breath, he raised his Axe of Dissection high and roared, "Lok''tar Ogar!!!" His voice cut through the fear, and the other orcs, rallying behind their leader, lifted their weapons and echoed the battle cry. They had no choice but to fight. Retreat was impossible with the beasts behind them, and the only way out was through this creature. With a surge of destructive green adrenaline, Volk charged forward, with a gleaning axe as he aimed for the beast''s massive body. The ground shook with his steps, but the beast did not flinch. It watched him with all six eyes, its heads cocked as if amused by the tiny figure charging towards it. The size difference was staggering. Dozer was four times larger than Volk, each of its heads as big as an orc. As Volk closed in, the beast let out a deafening roar that shook the very walls of the cavern. "ROOOOAAARRRR!!!!" The sound was like thunder, a deep, guttural noise that seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself. Volk was undeterred. With a fierce cry, "HAAAAAA!!" he swung his axe at the nearest head, aiming for its throat. But Dozer was faster. In a blur of motion, one of its heads snapped towards Volk with terrifying speed. Swoosh! S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Before Volk could react, the massive head struck him with the force of a battering ram, sending him flying through the air. Bang! His body slammed into the side of the cavern wall with a sickening crunch, the impact so powerful that it left a deep crater in the stone. For a moment, everything went silent. The orcs watched in horror as their leader lay crumpled on the ground, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. The voice laughed again, cold and mocking. "Dozer doesn''t need an overly hazardous orc. You''re no use to him, little hazard Orc. Dozer''s hazard is different from yours¡­" The beast roared again, "ROOOAAARRRRR!!" its three heads snapping at the air, each movement filled with raw, destructive power. The orcs were frozen, their courage draining away as the reality of their situation sank in. They were facing a monster, a creature of pure carnage that could tear them apart with a single bite. They glanced at each other, and they could see fear and uncertainty in their eyes. Some of them were already thinking of retreating, of running for their lives, but the beasts that lurked behind them made it clear there was no escape. After all, Volk was the only reason those beasts were scared. They were trapped, surrounded on all sides by death itself. On the other hand, Volk stirred, his body aching from the impact, but his resolve remained unbroken. He could see the fear in his comrades'' eyes, he knew those were doubts that threatened to overwhelm them. But he would not let them fall to despair. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet, even if his muscles were screaming in protest. "Lok''tar Ogar!" he roared again, his voice hoarse but filled with determination. The words were a command, a reminder of who they were and what they fought for. The other orcs hesitated, but seeing their leader stand once more, bloodied but unbowed, they found the courage within themselves to fight. One by one, they raised their weapons, their voices joining Volk''s in the battle cry. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaar!!!" They knew the odds were against them, that death was likely, but they would not go down without a fight. They would face this beast, and they would give everything they had. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaar!!!" they shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the cavern, filling the darkness with the sound of their defiance. Chapter 44: Three headed dog beatdown The cavern walls trembled as the echoes of the battle cry, "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaaaaar!" reverberated through the air. The orcs, their hearts filled with determination, were ready to face the monstrous three-headed beast, Dozer. But the fight had only just begun. Volk barely had time to regain his footing after the last blow before Dozer, with its immense speed and power, surged forward once again. One of its massive heads, larger than an orc''s entire body, snapped towards Volk with the force of a battering ram. "Kabang!" Volk was slammed into the cavern wall again, the impact shaking the entire chamber. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His vision blurred as pain shot through his body, but before he could even groan, a system notification flashed before his eyes. | Ding! | Would you like to use the Radioactive Form? | For a brief moment, Volk considered it. His heart pounded as he remembered the power he had unlocked within him, the form that could amplify his strength beyond imagination. But just as he was about to activate it, he caught sight of something that made him pause. One of the orcs, a broad-shouldered warrior with a fierce expression, had lunged forward while Volk was recovering. With a mighty swing of his hammer, he brought it crashing down on one of Dozer''s heads. "KABANG!" The hammer struck with incredible force, and to Volk''s amazement, the beast recoiled. A shocked silence fell over the orcs for a split second. The monster had been hurt¡ªactually hurt! Volk had assumed the beast was too powerful, too overwhelming to be harmed by conventional weapons. Yet, here it was, staggering back from the blow. "It''s¡­weak!" Volk shouted, his voice tinged with both surprise and exhilaration. "Just avoid its headbutts! Overall, it''s weak!" The orcs, who had been bracing themselves for the worst, took heart at Volk''s words. Their eyes lit up with a renewed fervor. If the beast could be hurt, then it could be defeated. With a roar, the orcs crowded forward again, weapons raised high, ready to slam all their might. Volk, still clutching his axe, barked out orders as he joined them in the charge. "Wait for its heads to swing down, then strike! Time your blows to hit the necks, right below the jaws! Don''t attack all at once¡ªhit it, then fall back! We need to tire it out, make it bleed!" The orcs responded with ferocity, each of them throwing their entire weight behind their attacks. The cavern echoed with the sounds of battle¡ªaxes cleaving through air, hammers crashing against bone, and the guttural growls of the beast. Dozer, realizing it was under attack from all sides, lashed out in fury. Its three heads moved with blinding speed, snapping and snarling, each bite capable of crushing an orc''s body in an instant. The ground trembled beneath its weight as it lunged and stomped, trying to scatter the orcs like ants. But Volk''s command held the orcs together, their movements now coordinated, their attacks precise. "Dodge to the left!" Volk shouted, and the orcs narrowly avoided a crushing headbutt from one of the beast''s massive skulls. "Now, swing at the jaw¡ªhit it hard!" Another orc, wielding a spiked club, swung with all his might, connecting with one of the beast''s jaws. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through the beast''s body, causing it to stagger once more. "Good! Now fall back¡ªdon''t let it corner you! Keep moving!" The orcs followed Volk''s lead, their attacks coming in waves. They moved in and out, striking and then retreating, always keeping just out of reach of Dozer''s snapping jaws. They were like a swarm of wasps, stinging from all sides, never staying still long enough for the beast to land a killing blow. But as the battle dragged on, the mysterious voice returned, its tone now laced with panic. "Crush them, Dozer! Crush them all, especially that hazardous orc! Kill him first!" The voice was relentless, urging Dozer to focus its wrath on Volk. The beast seemed to respond to the commands, its heads snapping towards Volk with renewed fury. But Volk was ready. "Shield wall!" he bellowed, and the orcs with shields immediately formed a barrier in front of him, blocking the beast''s advance. The force of Dozer''s charge sent the orcs sliding back, but they held firm, with their shields braced against the ground. "Now, strike its legs!" Volk ordered, and the orcs who weren''t holding shields darted forward, hacking at the beast''s legs with their axes and swords. Dozer howled in pain, its movements becoming seemingly more erratic as it tried to shake them off. "Retreat!" Volk called, and the orcs fell back just as one of Dozer''s heads swung down, missing them by inches. The beast roared in frustration, they could its red eyes glowing with an almost demonic fury. However, Volk was not focused on that, they could see the strain in the beast''s movements now. It was slowing down, its attacks becoming less coordinated. The wounds the orcs had inflicted were beginning to take their toll, it''s obvious with its blood flowing freely from gashes in its legs and necks. "We''ve got it on the ropes!" Volk shouted. "Keep pressing the attack! We''re wearing it down!" The orcs redoubled their efforts, their spirits lifted by the sight of the beast faltering. They moved with renewed energy, their strikes more precise, their coordination more fluid. Each time Dozer tried to retaliate, they were already out of reach, preparing for the next attack. But the voice in the darkness would not let up. "Dozer, you fool! Kill them! Kill the hazardous one! He''s the most dangerous of them all!" Dozer roared in response, but its movements were sluggish now, its three heads moving with less ferocity. The orcs could see it¡ªthis beast, for all its terrifying power, was just as vulnerable to pain and fatigue as any other creature. Volk, sensing the end was near, gave the final command. "Everyone, prepare for the final strike! On my signal, we attack together!" The orcs gathered their strength, their muscles burning with exhaustion but their resolve unbroken. They watched as Volk raised his axe, waiting for the moment. "Now! Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaaaaar!" The orcs charged as one, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Dozer, too slow to react, tried to snap at them with its jaws, but the orcs were too fast. They struck with all their might, their weapons biting deep into the beast''s flesh. The impact was devastating. With a final, pitiful howl, "ahoooooooorrgghhh!!" Dozer''s massive body crashed to the ground, the life draining from its three heads. Dab! Dab! Dab! The ground shook with the force of its fall, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air. The orcs stood victorious, their breaths heavy, their bodies aching. But they had done it. The beast was dead. Volk, however, felt no satisfaction. He stood over the fallen beast, his axe still gripped tightly in his hand. The battle had been hard-fought, but something gnawed at him. He hadn''t used his Radioactive Form. He hadn''t even tested the limits of his new powers. How could he gauge his true strength if he hadn''t been pushed to his limits? As he pondered this, the voice from the darkness returned, now filled with venomous rage. "You may have defeated Dozer, but you''re still nothing but a hazardous orc! You''ll never achieve your dreams! Dozer should have killed you first, you cursed freak!" The voice echoed through the cavern, a bitter reminder that their victory, while significant, was only the beginning. Volk''s grip on his axe tightened as he looked into the shadows where the voice had come from. Whoever this unseen enemy was, they would not rest until Volk was dead. But Volk was not afraid. He turned to his comrades, who were now gathering around him, he could see their eyes filled with a mix of relief and admiration. He nodded to them, but his focus was not on them. | Ding! | Mission completed. | Rewards: Radioactive Sidestep! | The host can now move three meters instantly in a direction that the host desires. | Cooldown: four seconds. | Radioactive botanical mana: 5 / 100. | For now, the battle was won, and he got a random ability reward, but somehow, Volk had a foreboding feeling that the true test of his strength has yet to come. Chapter 45: Dozer: Version 2 The battle was over, or so they thought. The monstrous three-headed beast, Dozer, lay lifeless on the ground, its massive form slowly losing the heat of life. The orcs, panting and bruised, gathered around their leader, Volk Mog''ger, their weapons still in hand but lowered, as the adrenaline of battle began to subside. One of the orcs, his face smudged with dirt and blood, was the first to speak. "Leader¡­ by the spirits, if it weren''t for you, we''d all be in that beast''s belly right now!" His voice was thick with relief and gratitude. "You led us like a true war chief, showed us exactly how to fight that monster." Another orc, a broad-shouldered brute with a long scar running down his face, nodded vigorously. "Aye, I''ve never seen anything like it. You knew where to strike, when to fall back¡­ it was like you could read our minds, Volk." The orcs all began to chime in, their voices overlapping in a chorus of thanks and admiration. "Without you, we''d have been scattered and picked off one by one." "You gave us the strength to fight, Volk. You''re a true leader." "Lok''tar Ogar!" another orc yelled, lifting his axe in a salute. Volk listened to them, a strange warmth filling his chest. He had never been one for grand speeches or basking in the adulation of others, but there was something deeply satisfying about knowing he had led these orcs to victory, that they trusted him, relied on him. Their gratitude was palpable, he could also feel their admiration were all sincere. But then, one of the orcs, a younger one with a curious glint in his eye, stepped forward and asked, "Leader¡­ How did you do that? I mean, how did you know when we were getting tired, or who was ready to strike, or who needed to defend? It was like you could feel what we were feeling." The other orcs fell silent, turning their eyes to Volk. The same question had been on all of their minds, but none had dared to voice it until now. How had he known? How had he led them with such precision, such insight? Volk hesitated for a moment, his mind was thinking what to answer. How had he known? In the heat of battle, he hadn''t had time to think about it, he had just¡­ known. But now, under their expectant gazes, he searched for an explanation. "I¡­ I don''t really know," Volk began, his voice uncertain at first. "It''s like¡­ I could feel your energy. Not just your physical strength, but something deeper. Your¡­ your green botanical energy." He paused, realizing how strange the words sounded even as he said them. The orcs exchanged confused glances. "Green botanical energy?" one of them echoed, scratching his head. "I know it sounds weird," Volk continued, trying to explain it to himself as much as to them. "But it was like there was this feeling I am familiar with the hazardous energy, like I could sense when one of you was about to falter, or when one of you had that burst of strength needed to land a decisive blow. I could feel your determination, your fear, your courage¡­ all of it because of all the hazardous magic particles moving in your bodies." The orcs stared at him. They didn''t fully understand what he was saying, but they didn''t need to. They had felt it too, in a way¡ªthis unspoken bond that had formed between them in the heat of battle. "Well, whatever it was," the scarred orc said, breaking the silence, "it worked. You led us to victory, Leader Volk. That''s all that matters." "Aye!" another orc shouted. "Lok''tar Ogar, Leader Volk!" "Lok''tar Ogar!" the others echoed, their voices rising in unison as they raised their weapons high. Volk felt a swell of pride and solidarity as he joined in their war cry. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaaaaar!!!" But just as the echoes of their triumphant shout began to fade, a cold chill swept through the cavern. It started as a low, almost inaudible sound, but quickly grew louder¡ªa laugh, twisted and filled with malice. "Kekekekkekeke¡­" The orcs'' cheers died in their throats as they turned towards the source of the eerie sound, they could feel their blood somehow running cold. The laughter grew louder, more manic. "Kehahahahahaaha¡­ it''s been almost two years¡­ I thought I would be thoroughly dissolved by that damn beast!" The voice was filled with frustration and insanity, like the ravings of a man driven to the brink of madness. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he scanned the darkness, searching for the speaker. But what he saw instead was something far more terrifying. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Dozer, the massive three-headed beast they had just slain, was moving. Its body, which had lain still in the dirt, began to twitch and convulse. The orcs backed away in horror as the beast''s muscles rippled and bulged, its three heads lolling to the side as if puppets on a string. The once-ferocious eyes now stared blankly in every direction, as if no longer bound to the commands of a living mind. "What¡­ what''s happening?" one of the orcs stammered, his voice trembling with fear. The laughter continued, echoing off the cavern walls. "It''s time¡­ time for my rebirth!" Volk''s grip tightened on his axe as the beast''s body began to rise, its movements jerky and unnatural, like a marionette being pulled up by invisible strings. The air around them grew thick with a foul, rotting stench as the once-mighty Dozer was animated by a force beyond death. "You see," the voice continued, now dripping with a sickening glee, "two years ago, I entered this cave along with other students of the Dogfiend Kingdom. We were foolish, arrogant, thinking we could defeat this descendant of Cerberus, this so-called Dozer. But we were wrong¡­ oh, so wrong." The voice took on a tone of grim nostalgia, recounting the horrors of the past. "One by one, I watched my classmates fall. They were crushed, devoured, dissolved within this beast''s stomach. The stench of death was unbearable, the pain unimaginable. I thought no one¡­ no one could save me. I was resigned to my fate, my body and soul to be consumed by this monster¡­" The orcs, horrified, continued to watch as Dozer''s body fully stood up, towering over them once again. But something was different this time. The beast''s movements were more erratic, more savage, as if it were infected with some rabid disease. Its three heads jerked and snapped at the air, its eyes rolling in its skulls, dead and vacant. "But then¡­ you arrived," the voice said, now laced with a twisted kind of gratitude. "You, the hazardous orc, and your little band of warriors. You saved me¡­ you distracted Dozer just long enough for me to seize this opportunity. And now, now that I possess this body, I will show you my thanks¡­ by devouring you all!" As the voice finished its deranged monologue, a grotesque sound filled the cavern, a wet, squelching noise that sent shivers down the orcs'' spines. They watched in horror as the center head of Dozer, the one that had been in the middle of the trio, began to split open. Kwashack! Flesh and blood oozed out from the widening crack, the skin tearing apart as something emerged from within. From the gory wound, a bloodied humanoid creature began to crawl out. Its form was twisted and malformed, its skin slick with gore. The creature''s eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light, its mouth stretched into a grotesque grin. "Ah?" The orcs stepped back, their weapons at the ready but their hearts filled with dread. This was no longer the beast they had fought and defeated. They could feel that this was something far more terrifying, something that defied the natural order of life and death was coming out. The creature finally emerged fully from the beast''s corpse, standing tall atop the lifeless body of Dozer. It was humanoid in shape, but its features were twisted and monstrous. It had a long, spindly arm that ended in razor-sharp claws, its skin a sickly gray-green, covered in patches of matted fur and oozing sores. The creature looked down at them with its glowing yellow eyes and let out a low, menacing chuckle. "Thank you for saving me," it hissed, its voice dripping with malice. "Thank you¡­ for giving me the chance to be reborn in this glorious form. Now¡­ let me show you the power of Dozer¡­ Dozer Version Two." Chapter 46: Another One The air felt disgusting as Volk and the orcs stood face to face with the monstrous abomination that had emerged from the corpse of Dozer. The beast''s eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow light, its twisted, malformed body radiating an aura of pure malevolence. The orcs'' hearts pounded in their chests as they prepared themselves for the fight of their lives. Suddenly, a familiar chime echoed in Volk''s mind, a sound that had become all too common in this strange new world. | Ding! A system notification flashed before his eyes: | Mission triggered. | Defeat the foe Dozer: Version 2 with your tribe! | Note: Anything works! | Failure: Removal of your Sidestep ability in your normal Orc form. | Rewards: Controlled Radiation in your Radioactive Form state. | Volk''s throat went dry as he read the words. He didn''t know what "Controlled Radiation" meant, but the idea of losing his Sidestep ability was daunting. That skill could save him countless times in the future, after all, he would be vulnerable on his Radioactive form once the duration of the Radioactive form was done. The thought of Sidestep ability being taken away sent a shiver down his spine. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had a mission, and his tribe was counting on him. Volk tightened his grip on the Axe of Dissection, feeling the familiar weight of the weapon in his hands. He looked at the twisted creature before him and felt a surge of determination. He couldn''t afford to fail. "If we beat it once already, we can beat it again!" Volk bellowed, his voice echoing off the cavern walls. "That random disgusting flesh on top of one of its three heade will not change a thing! ATTAAAAAAAACCKKK!!!!" The orcs, ignited by Volk''s unyielding confidence, roared in unison. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaaaaar!!!" Their war cry filled the cavern, reverberating through the stone and striking fear into the heart of their foe. But the creature atop Dozer''s body merely sneered, its lips curling into a twisted grin. "I am not Dozer," it hissed, its voice dripping with venom. "You all won''t win against me especially if I strike you first! You filthy, hazardous, bone-eating blockheads!" Without warning, the monstrous three-headed dog, now controlled by the red elf-like creature, lunged at Volk with terrifying speed. The ground shook beneath its massive paws as it charged, one could see all its three heads snapping and snarling, with its eyes locked onto its target. The orcs, who had been ready to charge, faltered in fear as the beast bore down on their leader. Kabam! The force of the impact was like a thunderclap. The cavern floor trembled as Volk was slammed into the ground, the air forced from his lungs. Dust and debris flew up around them, obscuring the battlefield. For a moment, everything was still. The orcs stared in horror, their hearts sinking into despair. Their leader, the one who had guided them to victory before, had been struck down first! What do they do now? Without, will they make it alive? But then, through the settling dust and debris, a voice rang out, steady and strong. "I am fine." The orcs turned their heads in disbelief. There, standing tall and unharmed, was Volk. He had somehow evaded the beast''s devastating attack, his body appearing in another place entirely. The red creature on top of the three-headed dog recoiled in shock, its twisted features contorted in disbelief. "How¡­ how did you¡ª?" Volk''s voice cut through the creature''s confusion like a blade. "Don''t let me distract you! The battle is not over! ATAAAAAACK!!!" The orcs, shaken from their momentary stupor, rallied once more. "ROAAAARRRRR!!" Their leader was still standing, still fighting. And as long as Volk was with them, they would not give up. With renewed determination, they raised their weapons and charged, their war cries filling the cavern once more. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" The battle was a furious storm of steel and flesh. The three-headed dog was a blur of teeth and claws, its monstrous heads snapping at anything that came close. Volk''s orcs fought with everything they had, dodging and weaving, striking whenever an opportunity presented itself. But the creature was relentless, its power seemingly endless. "Grashk, to the left! Grok''Thar, fall back and cover the rear!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Lhum''Baggar, flank it from the right! Wait for its head to dip, then strike!" The orcs followed Volk''s commands with precision, with their movements seemingly synchronized like a well-oiled machine. They struck and retreated, timing their attacks perfectly to avoid the beast''s deadly counterstrikes. Kabang! Kabang! Kabang! Every blow they landed was a small victory, every dodge a testament to their growing skill. "Keep your distance from its heads! Wait for it to lunge, then move in!" Volk commanded, his eyes never leaving the creature. "We can wear it down! We''ve done it before!" But the red creature atop the beast would not be silenced. It cackles maniacally, its voice grating against their ears. "You think you can defeat me? You think you can stop the power of Dozer? I will crush you all! Starting with you, hazardous orc!" The beast lunged again, its massive body crashing through the ranks of the orcs. Volk sidestepped the attack again, disappearing from where he was instantly. The creature snarled in frustration, one could see its six murderous eyes were now burning with deep seething hatred. "Strike now! Its left head is exposed!" Volk shouted, pointing with his axe. Lhum''Baggar charged in, with his massive hammer held high. With a roar, "RAAAAAAARRRRHHH!!" he brought it down with all his might, the weapon connecting with a sickening crunch. CRAAAAAAACCKKKK!!! The left head of the beast recoiled, blood spraying from the wound. The red creature screamed in fury, its control over the beast faltering for just a moment. "No! How dare you! You will all die! DIE!" But Volk ignored the creature''s ravings, his focus solely on the battle. "Grashk, Grok''Thar, hit the right head while it''s distracted! Don''t give it time to recover!" The two orcs moved in tandem, their weapons slicing through the air with deadly precision. The right head of the beast snapped at them, but they were too quick, their blades cutting deep into its flesh. The beast howled in pain, its movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. "Now, everyone! together! Strike the center head! This is our chance!" Volk yelled, his voice filled with the fire of battle. The orcs charged as one, with their weapons raised high. The beast, its three heads now wounded and bleeding, could do little to defend itself. Soon, he received the strike with all their might, with their weapons buried deep into the center head''s skull. Craaaagggg!!! The beast roared in agony, its body convulsing as it struggled to remain standing. "AAAAAAAAARRGHHH!!" But the red creature was not done. "I am not finished! I will consume you all!" it shrieked, its voice cracking with madness. It pulled at the beast''s flesh, trying to force it to keep fighting, to keep moving. But the beast was at its limit. Its body was failing, its strength waning. "Push it back! Don''t give it a chance to recover!" Volk ordered, his axe flashing as he struck again and again. The orcs did not relent. They hammered the beast with everything they had, their strikes fueled by a desperate determination. Bang! Bang! Bang! The red creature screamed and cursed them, its voice growing more hysterical with each passing moment. "No! No! This can''t be happening! You filthy orcs! I will kill you all!" the creature wailed, tears of frustration and rage streaming down its face. But its threats fell on deaf ears. The orcs were beyond fear, beyond hesitation. They were fighting for their lives, and they would not stop until the beast was dead. Finally, with one last, mighty blow, Grashk brought his hammer down on the center head. KABANG! The skull cracked, CREEAKKKKK!! bone and flesh giving way under the force of the strike. The beast''s body shuddered violently, then it collapsed to the ground with a thunderous crash. VOOMM!! The cavern fell silent, the echoes of the battle slowly fading away. The orcs stood panting, one could see their bodies battered and bruised, but alive. The three-headed beast, Dozer, lay motionless at their feet, its massive form finally defeated. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But the battle was not yet over. The red creature, now lying atop the beast''s corpse, glared up at them with wild, bloodshot eyes. "You¡­ you will pay for this," it hissed, its voice trembling with fury. "I will make you all suffer¡­" But before it could utter another word, Grashk stepped forward, his hammer still in hand. Without a word, he raised the weapon high and brought it down on the creature''s head with a sickening crunch. The red creature''s body went limp, its threats silenced forever. The orcs stood in silence, their chests heaving as they caught their breath. The battle was over. They had won. However, the cost had been great, and the memory of the twisted creature''s madness would stay with them for a long time. Volk lowered his axe, his body trembling with exhaustion. But as he looked around at his tribe, at the orcs who had fought and bled by his side, he felt a deep sense of pride. They had faced the impossible, and they had prevailed. "Lok''tar Ogar," Volk whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and respect. And as the orcs echoed his words, he xouskrn help but feel at ease, each of their voices were strong and unwavering. Chapter 47: Grum-gar Dog Volk stood amid the remains of the battle, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The blood of the fallen beast pooled around his feet, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air. His orcs were celebrating their hard-won victory, their cheers echoing off the cavern walls. But despite the triumph, Volk couldn''t shake the feeling of emptiness inside him. He thought that the second version would force him to enter his Radioactive form, but it turns out, it can''t. It was defeated instantly. Suddenly, he saw the familiar screen. | Ding! | Mission completed. | Reward: Controlled Radiation in your Radioactive Form state is now given to the host. | The words floated in his vision, but they did little to fill the void inside him. The battle had ended too quickly. He hadn''t even had the chance to test his abilities or push his limits. Instead, they had merely survived, overcoming the challenge through sheer brute force rather than skill. Volk''s satisfaction was short-lived, and a strange hollowness filled his chest. ''Was that it?'' he thought to himself, staring at the bloodied ground. He had expected more¡ªwanted more. There was an undeniable itch under his skin, a craving for something greater, something that would truly challenge him. As these thoughts swirled in his mind, another notification appeared. | Ding! | New mission. | Defeat and show dominance against the Grum-gar Dozer in its fourth Grum-gar evolution. | Rewards: Team Grum-gar evolution.| Volk''s heart skipped a beat. A new mission¡ªand one that promised something called "Team Grum-gar evolution," whatever that meant. However, he had an idea. Does that mean his team would get a Grum-gar form too? He clenched his fists, feeling his pulse quicken with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The prospect of another fight¡ªan even more dangerous one¡ªsent a thrill through him, but he couldn''t ignore the unsettling mystery of the reward. What did "Team evolution" entail? Would it change him? His Dreadmaw Clan? His musings were cut short by the rumble beneath his feet. Rumble! The cavern, which had been filled with the sounds of victory moments before, fell eerily silent once again. The ground trembled violently, as though the earth itself was groaning in protest. Volk''s eyes widened, and he barked orders without hesitation. "Get back!" The orcs, instinctively trusting their leader, immediately scrambled backward, forming a defensive line. Their earlier celebration was replaced by tense anticipation as they scanned the cavern for the source of the disturbance. "Is it not the end yet?" Grashk asked, his voice laced with disbelief. His grip tightened around his weapon as he glanced nervously at Volk. Volk''s expression was grim as he shook his head. "I''m afraid not." As if on cue, a massive, familiar laughter echoed through the cavern, sending shivers down the spines of the orcs. It was a sound they had heard before¡ªmaniacal and mocking, filled with a twisted glee that chilled their blood. ''''Kekekkekekkekeke! Nyekekekekekek!'''' The air felt like it was closing in one direction with the tension as the orcs watched in horror. The corpse of the three-headed beast that had been lying lifeless on the ground began to twitch. Slowly, impossibly, it began to rise again, its massive form shaking off the remnants of death as if it were merely waking from a deep slumber. "What in the gods'' names¡­?" one of the orcs muttered, his voice trembling with fear. The beast''s flesh writhed and shifted, the red, fleshy humanoid creature atop the center head reassembling itself from the blood and gore. Its body grew larger, more muscular, with veins bulging grotesquely beneath its skin. The creature''s long ears twitched as it surveyed the orcs with a sinister grin, its eyes glinting with malice. "You thought you had won," the creature hissed, its voice dripping with contempt. "But you''ve only managed to anger Dozer¡ªand me. I should thank you, really. Without your interference, I might have remained dormant, trapped within this beast''s decaying flesh. But now¡­ now I am reborn." The orcs bristled at the creature''s words, but none dared to move. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he studied the creature, trying to gauge its new power. It was undeniably stronger than before¡ªhe could feel the oppressive weight of its presence, pressing down on them like a physical force. The red humanoid creature seemed to delight in their fear, its grin widening as it began to speak again. "Dozer, you see, has always had a taste for Hornless Orcs. It''s his favorite delicacy. The reason why? Because like you,"¡ªthe creature pointed a long, clawed finger at Volk and his tribe¡ª"he has a Grum-gar form too." The orcs exchanged uneasy glances. The term "Grum-gar" was not one they were familiar with, but the way the creature spoke it sent a chill through their bones. Does that mean? The orcs shuddered at the creature''s words, their fear mounting with each passing moment. Grashk, his curiosity getting the better of him, spoke up. "If he''s so powerful, why didn''t he use that form earlier? We killed him twice! How come the three-headed dungeon boss couldn''t stop us?" The creature''s head snapped toward Grashk, its eyes narrowing dangerously. "Do you really want to know?" it hissed, its voice laced with venom. Volk and the other orcs braced themselves, unsure of what to expect. The creature''s presence was overwhelming, and its words seemed to seep into their very souls, planting seeds of doubt and fear. But despite their trepidation, the orcs couldn''t deny their curiosity. They wanted to know¡ªneeded to know¡ªwhat they were up against. The creature''s grin returned, wider and more sinister than before. "Kekekekeke¡­ very well. I''ll tell you," it said, its voice dripping with malevolence. "Dozer is not just any beast. He is a Grum-gar¡ªa creature born of ancient magic, a relic of a time when the world was young and the gods still walked among mortals. His power is tied to his consumption of flesh, particularly the flesh of Hornless Orcs. The more he devours, the stronger he becomes. But to reach his full potential, to ascend to his true form, he must consume not just flesh, but the very essence of his prey." The creature''s eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as it watched the orcs'' reactions. "And that is why he chose this form, this three-headed monstrosity. It allows him to consume more efficiently, to absorb the essence of his prey and grow stronger with each kill. But he is patient, oh so patient. He waits, biding his time, until he has consumed enough to evolve, to transcend his current form." The orcs exchanged uneasy glances, the creature''s words seemed fake. Why the hell is he rambling useless sh*t? "And now," the creature continued, its voice rising to a fever pitch, "you have given him the opportunity to evolve once more. To ascend to his third Grum-gar form¡ªthe most powerful, the most terrifying. And when he does, there will be nothing left of you but bones and ash. Kekekekeke¡­" The creature''s laughter echoed through the cavern, sending chills down the spines of the orcs. It was a sound filled with madness, a twisted joy that seemed to revel in their impending doom. Volk''s mind raced as he processed the creature''s words. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The creature''s laughter suddenly stopped, and it fixed Volk with a piercing gaze. "You really want to know why Dozer didn''t evolve earlier?" it asked, its voice low and dangerous. "You see, you see, you see, I was lying all this time, because the truth is, the truth is, the truth is, I am, I am¡­" The creatures leaned closer to it, like a madman. "A WARLOCK!" Chapter 48: Warlock Zenveil When the creature revealed itself as a warlock, it began to laugh uncontrollably, a high-pitched, unhinged cackle that reverberated through the cavern. The laughter was so intense, so manic, that it sent a cold shiver down Volk''s spine. The orcs around him, who had been tense and on edge, were suddenly gripped by an unnatural fear. "Yes!" the warlock screamed between fits of laughter. "Yes, Dozer is already dead! He is nothing more than a lifeless husk! A body that I, Warlock Zenveil, control! I am the master! I am the one who bends his will to my own! He is my puppet, and you¡­ you are nothing more than my playthings!" As Zenveil''s words echoed through the cavern, Volk felt a strange, unsettling sensation wash over him. It was as if the very air around him had shifted, thickening with an oppressive force. When the warlock had revealed his identity, it was as though a shockwave had rippled through the space, altering the atmosphere and making it heavy with dread. Volk heard the clang of weapons falling to the ground, one after another. Turning to look behind him, his eyes widened in shock. His brethren¡ªthe fierce, battle-hardened orcs¡ªstood paralyzed, their faces contorted in expressions of sheer terror. Their eyes were wide, unblinking, fixed on Warlock Zenveil with a look that bordered on horror. "What¡­?" Volk began to ask, his voice trembling. But as he opened his mouth to speak, he felt it too¡ªa primal dread that seized his body, locking his muscles in place. His breath caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could its frantic drumbeat that echoed in his ears. What''s going on? he thought, panic setting in. He could feel the fear crawling up his spine, a cold, clammy sensation that made his skin prickle. Warlock Zenveil''s laughter grew louder, more deranged. "Grahahahahahahha! The sight of the orcs frozen in fear seemed to delight him, and he spoke with a tone of maniacal amusement. "Ah, the Hornless Orc tribe¡­ my favorite," he purred, savoring the words. "The best subjects for our scientific experiments. You see, the Hornless Orcs possess something unique, something special¡­ something that we warlocks find irresistible." The warlock began to circle the orcs slowly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Do you know what we warlocks love to do with your kind? We like to see what makes you tick, what makes you suffer. Let me share a few of our¡­ experiments with you." He pointed at one of the paralyzed orcs, his finger trembling with excitement. "First, we like to test your pain tolerance. We push your bodies to the brink, see how much you can endure before you break. We peel away your flesh, layer by layer, while you scream for mercy. But we do not grant it. Oh no, we enjoy watching you writhe, watching your souls wither in agony." Zenveil turned his gaze to another orc, who stood rigid with fear. "Second, we experiment with your minds. We delve deep into your thoughts, your memories. We strip away your sanity, bit by bit, until you''re nothing more than a hollow shell of your former self. We twist your reality, warp it until you can no longer tell what is real and what is an illusion. You become our puppets, your will bent to ours, your mind shattered." He stepped closer to Volk, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "Third, we love to play with your Grum-gar form. The ability to turn into an Ogre¡­ it''s fascinating, really. We''ve dissected many of your kind to learn how it works. We''ve experimented with fusing other creatures to your Grum-gar form, creating monstrous abominations that are neither orc nor beast. We take pleasure in watching you transform, watching your bodies twist and contort in pain as the transformation takes hold." Finally, Zenveil''s eyes glittered with malevolence as he spoke the last of his examples. "And fourth, we study your fear. We push you to the edge of despair, see how far we can drive you before you lose all hope. We force you to face your deepest, darkest fears, to confront the nightmares that haunt you. And when you are at your most vulnerable, when you are begging for the sweet release of death¡­ we deny it to you. We keep you alive, so that you can suffer just a little bit more." The warlock''s words sent a wave of revulsion through Volk. His mind reeled as he recalled the memories of the orc he had possessed¡ªtheir fear of warlocks and dark elves had seemed exaggerated at the time, a paranoia born of superstition. But now, standing before Zenveil, Volk understood that their fear had been all too real. The dread he felt was unlike anything he had ever experienced, like it was a terror so deep and primal that it rooted him to the spot, rendering him helpless. Suddenly, Volk was struck by a flashback. The feeling was eerily familiar, bringing him back to a time in his previous life when he had been trapped in a wheelchair, paralyzed and powerless. He remembered the helplessness, the frustration of being unable to move, to fight back against the world around him. He recalled the days when he had been completely dependent on others, when he had been forced to watch life pass him by, unable to participate. He remembered the stares, the pity in the eyes of those who looked down on him, and the burning resentment that had simmered within him. He remembered four specific instances that had scarred him deeply. The first was the time when he had been stranded in his wheelchair in the middle of a busy street, unable to cross because the sidewalk was too high for him to navigate. Cars had zoomed past him, honking their horns, but no one had stopped to help. He had felt utterly helpless, a prisoner in his own body. The second memory was of a hospital stay, when he had been confined to a bed for weeks, unable to move without assistance. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The doctors and nurses had treated him like a child, speaking to him in condescending tones, as if his physical disability had somehow diminished his intellect. He had seethed with anger, but there had been nothing he could do. The third memory was of a family gathering, where he had been left alone in a corner while everyone else enjoyed themselves. No one had bothered to include him in the festivities, and he had felt invisible, like a ghost haunting a world that no longer had a place for him. The fourth and final memory was of a particularly humiliating experience, when he had been forced to ask for help with something as simple as opening a door. The person he had asked had looked at him with pity, as if he were a burden, and had reluctantly assisted him. The shame and frustration had eaten away at him, leaving a deep scar on his soul. No, Volk thought fiercely. I won''t be helpless again. I won''t be trapped like this! With every ounce of strength he could muster, Volk fought against the paralysis that gripped him. His muscles bulged and trembled as he tried to move, and not long, he finally let out a guttural scream, pushing himself to break free. "Haaaaaaaarrrggghhhh!!!" Warlock Zenveil''s eyes widened in surprise, and he clapped his hands in mock applause. "Impressive! Truly impressive!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You, the most hazardous Orc I have ever seen, are quite peculiar. You can lead, you can disappear when attacked, and now you''re trying to overcome the primal fear that all warlocks have instilled in your race? Remarkable!" The warlock''s tone shifted, becoming more menacing. His eyes gleamed with a sadistic curiosity as he took a step closer to Volk. "How about I make you a part of my experiment?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. Volk continued to struggle, his teeth gritted in determination. But the warlock''s words sent a chill down his spine, and he couldn''t help but listen as Zenveil began to speak of the experiments he had yet to complete. "You see," Zenveil said, his voice filled with dark amusement, "there are so many things I''ve yet to try. So many¡­ possibilities. For example, I could take your hazardous form and see what happens when I expose it to pure, concentrated darkness. What would become of you then, I wonder? Would you become a creature of the night, or would you simply cease to exist?" He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Or perhaps I could fuse your Grum-gar form with another creature, something more¡­ volatile. A reptile, perhaps? Imagine the power you would wield, the destruction you could cause. Of course, the process would be excruciatingly painful, but that''s all part of the fun, isn''t it?" Zenveil''s eyes glinted with malevolence as he considered his options. "I could also experiment with your mind, delve deep into your thoughts and memories, twist them until you no longer recognize yourself. I could make you believe that you are something else entirely¡ªa beast, a monster, a mindless slave. "Or I could strip away your will, turn you into nothing more than a puppet, dancing on my strings and would do anything I tell it to do. But that would be too boring, I''ll do that once I''m done with experiments of everyone around you! Hahaha" After that, Zenveil was not done. But someone on his face appeared. "Eat this!" Chapter 49: Orcs Bloodline fear The cave echoed with the sound of dripping water amidst the bone armored Orcs who were frozen in fear. The dim light from the phosphorescent moss barely illuminated the jagged rocks lining the cavern''s walls. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the pungent odor of the three-headed beast, Dozer. Its low growl reverberated through the space, a deep rumble that seemed to shake the very ground beneath their feet. As Zenveil kept talking, Volk''s figure appeared near his face in a blur. He moved with a swift, almost inOrcish grace, with his form sidestepped through the shadows as though they were part of him. However, the faint clink of his armor was drowned out by the beast''s guttural snarls. And before he could launch an attack, Warlock Zenveil, perched atop the massive creature, flicked his wrist dismissively. Volk felt a force slam into him. Kabang! His body crashed against the rough stone of the cave wall, sending a shower of dust and debris into the air. But Volk was ready. With a grunt, he planted his feet against the wall, absorbing the impact. He slid down, landing in a crouch, eyes narrowing as he glared at Zenveil. The Warlock''s smile was mocking, with his maniacal gaze dripping with arrogance as he said, "Predictable." Volk muttered under his breath, "I am not done!" shaking off the pain. He was thinking of using his Radioactive form, ''is it time?'' he thought. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Zenveil''s smirk widened as if he could hear Volk''s thoughts. "Still the same tricks, hazardous Orc?" he sneered. "You can try that as many times as you want until I make you realize it''s useless before me." Volk''s jaw tightened, but before he could retort, a shadow loomed behind Zenveil. The air seemed to grow heavier, the ground trembling with the weight of something massive. Emerging from the darkness was a hulking figure, green and grotesque, but not towering over even the monstrous size of Dozer who was in Warlock''s control. Volk''s breath hitched as he stared at the creature. It was an Ogre, a being of brute strength and ferocity. But there was something familiar about its face, though it was twisted into a more monstrous version of itself, he was somewhat very familiar. Zenveil smirked on the top of the three headed Dozer, "Interesting, another one who couldn''t make it? Didn''t your ancestors and instincts tell you to not use your form against me?" "ME, GRASHK," the Ogre boomed, his voice like a landslide crashing down a mountain. The words were simple, the sentences clipped, but the power behind them was undeniable. "SWING WEAPON TO WARLOOOOOCK!" Grashk, in his Grum-gar Ogre form, swung his massive club with a force that whistled through the air. Whoosh! The weapon connected with Dozer''s side, the impact resonating through the cavern. The three-headed dog-beast snarled, its heads snapping toward Grashk, jaws dripping with saliva. But Grashk was undeterred, his strength seemingly inexhaustible as he pressed the attack, each swing of his weapon sending shockwaves through the ground. Thud! Crack! Volk watched, still seated where he had landed, his mind reeling. Grashk¡­ He was different now, transformed into this hulking behemoth, yet there was no mistaking the Orc warrior beneath the monstrous exterior. But before Volk could rise to join the fray, Zenveil''s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Hazardous Orc," Zenveil called out, his tone eerily calm despite the battle raging around him. His eyes locked onto Volk with a piercing intensity. "You''re their leader, aren''t you? Do you even know why your kind fears us Warlocks?" Volk''s expression hardened, but he remained silent, his gaze locked on Zenveil''s smug face. The Warlock''s lips curled into a smile, cold and cruel. "It''s because we have power over you," Zenveil continued, his voice laced with condescension. "We can turn your precious Grum-gar warriors back into the weaklings they truly are." Before Volk could respond, Zenveil raised his hand, and with a swift, almost lazy motion, directed Dozer toward Grashk. The beast lunged, its three heads snapping with terrifying speed and precision. Snap! Snap! Snap! The jaws clamped down on Grashk''s limbs, and with a violent shake, the massive Ogre was slammed against the cave walls. Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound of Grashk''s body hitting the stone was like thunder, the force enough to send cracks spider webbing across the surface. Volk could only watch as Grashk''s form was battered against the floor and walls, making the ground tremble with each brutal impact. Dust and rocks rained down from above, the noise deafening in the enclosed space. And then, with a final, powerful throw, Dozer hurled Grashk into the air. Hacha! Zenveil''s eyes gleamed with dark energy as he reached out with his humanoid hand, touching Grashk''s battered form mid-air. The air around them shimmered with an unnatural energy, a sickly green light emanating from Zenveil''s touch. Slowly, to Volk''s horror, Grashk began to change. The massive, grotesque form of the Grum-gar Ogre began to shrink, the bulging muscles receding, the monstrous features softening. It was as though the strength was being drained from him, his power siphoned away by Zenveil''s cursed magic. Grashk''s roars turned into agonized groans as his body twisted and contorted, shrinking down until he was once again the Orc Volk recognized. His skin lost its greenish hue, his body shrinking and shriveling, until he was nothing more than a broken figure, weak and vulnerable. Grashk''s eyes, once full of rage and power, now held only pain and fear as he was thrown to the ground with a sickening thud! The other Orcs gasped, their disbelief palpable as they watched their formidable warrior reduced to his original, weakened form. They could hardly believe what they had seen, the sight of their comrade¡ªa warrior who had been a symbol of their strength¡ªnow laying crumpled on the cold stone. Zenveil''s gaze flicked back to Volk, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "And that," he said, his voice dripping with superiority, "is why Orcs fear Warlocks. Because we can take away what makes you strong. Anytime we want." The words were like a heavy sledgehammer dropped to their head, a final, crushing blow to the Orcs'' morale. Soon, silence descended on the cave, broken only by the shallow, labored breaths of Grashk as he lay motionless on the ground. The other Orcs looked to Volk, their eyes filled with desperation and uncertainty. For a moment, Volk remained still, his body tense, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes were seeing things, grappling with the horror of what he had just witnessed. But then, something inside him snapped into place¡ªa fierce, unyielding resolve. He pushed himself up from the ground, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, but he ignored the pain. His eyes locked onto Zenveil, blazing with a fire that could not be extinguished. "HE''S LYING!" Volk roared, with his voice echoing through the cavern, cutting through the fear that had taken hold of his comrades. The sheer force of his words seemed to shake them from their stupor. "MAG''DUROTANS!!!" He shouted out loud! "HE NEEDED TO BEAT GRASHK FIRST TO MAKE HIM TURN BACK TO NORMAL! AS LONG AS WE BEAT HIM UP AND DON''T GET INJURED TOO MUCH, I BELIEVE WE CAN BEAT HIM!" The other Orcs stirred at his words, the light of hope rekindling in their eyes. Volk''s presence, his unwavering confidence, and the familiar strong look in his eyes was like a beacon in the darkness. It gave them something to hold onto, something to fight for. The Warlock might have power, but Volk had something they believed¡ªhe could see through the hazardous magic particles! "DREADMAW CLAN! BEAT THIS THREE HEADED DOG UP AGAIN! IT''S TIME TO PAINT OUR HANDS WITH WARLOCK''S BLOOD!" Zenveil''s smile faltered, just for a moment, as he saw the renewed fire in the Orcs'' eyes. But it was enough. Volk took a step forward, and then another, his gaze never leaving Zenveil''s. He was ready to fight, to lead his people, no matter the odds. Because this time, it''s time to turn into his Radioactive form! Chapter 50: TO BATTLE! "YOU REALLY!!" Zenveil''s voice was a thunderclap in the cavern, filled with a fury that echoed off the jagged walls. Before Volk could react, the Warlock and his monstrous steed, Dozer, were already upon him. The air split with a booming sound, and in the blink of an eye, Zenveil''s sneering face was inches from Volk''s. Bang! The massive paw of the three-headed beast, controlled with precision by Zenveil''s dark magic, swung toward Volk with blinding speed. KaBang! The impact was like a boulder colliding with Volk''s chest. The force drove him deep into the earth, with the ground swallowing him in a cloud of dust and debris. His bones groaned under the heavy pressure, and for a moment, the world was nothing but a blur of pain. His mind spun, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue. But even as the world dimmed around him, Volk clung to consciousness, his heart pounding in defiance. He wasn''t dead. Not yet. GRAAAAAAHHHHH!!! The other Orcs, standing at the ready, felt the tremor in the ground as Volk was buried beneath it. Rumble! They knew he was still alive, and could feel the pulse of his life force even beneath the tons of rock and dirt. Without hesitation, they turned their attention to Zenveil, ignoring the snarling beast in front of them. Their eyes gleamed with a single-minded determination. They were now Grum-gar Orcs, born and bred not for battle anymore, but violence. They wouldn''t wait for Dozer to turn its attention back to them. With a collective roar, the Grum-gar Orcs charged forward, weapons raised high. GURRAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!! GRAAAAAAGGHHAAAAAAHHH!!! The cavern echoed with the clashing of metal and the guttural cries of war. The Orcs in their Grum-gar forms were nothing short of terrifying, one could their bodies swollen with muscle and rage. They were a force of nature, raw and untamed, their movements fueled by sheer brute strength. There was no finesse in their attacks, only violence¡ªpure, unrelenting violence. One Grum-gar Orc swung his heavy axe toward Zenveil''s head. Swoosh! The air whistled as the weapon descended, but Zenveil was quick. The Warlock ducked, the blade missing him by mere inches. But the Orc was undeterred, his momentum carrying him forward. He slammed into Zenveil with the full weight of his massive body. Bang! The impact sent Zenveil staggering back, his dark robes fluttering as he struggled to regain his footing. Another Orc, his eyes wild with fury, lunged at Zenveil, claws extended like a predator going in for the kill. He swiped at Zenveil''s chest, tearing through fabric and flesh alike. Rip! Blood splattered onto the stone floor, but Zenveil barely flinched. He hissed in pain, his eyes narrowing as he lashed out with a curse. "DAMNED BRAINDEAD ORCS!" But the Grum-gar Orcs weren''t done. They were relentless, driven by the primal need to crush their enemy, turn it to pieces. One of them bit into Zenveil''s shoulder, teeth sinking deep into flesh. Crunch! The Warlock howled in agony, "Aaaaarrghh???" his voice a mix of rage and disbelief. He tried to shake the Orc off, but the creature held firm, his jaws locked tight. "GET OUTTTTT YOU SHHIIITTT!!!" Another Orc slammed into Zenveil''s side with a bone-crushing headbutt, the sound of skull meeting bone resonating through the cavern. Thud! Zenveil cursed again, his voice a low, venomous snarl. He could feel his control slipping, the seething rage within him boiling over. "You... WORTHLESS... VERMIN!" His voice cracked as he spoke, the words dripping with malice. But the Orcs were past hearing. They were lost to the bloodlust, their only goal to tear Zenveil apart, piece by piece. One by one, the Orcs attacked, their strikes chaotic, their movements unpredictable. There was no strategy, no coordination. Just brute force. An Orc leaped onto Zenveil''s back, clawing and tearing at his robes, trying to drag him down. Another lunged at Zenveil''s legs, his powerful jaws snapping at the Warlock''s knees, trying to bring him to the ground. Snap! Zenveil was surrounded, his vision filled with nothing but snarling faces and swinging weapons. His own magic surged in response, dark energy crackling at his fingertips as he tried to fend them off. But there were too many, and they were too strong. Their blows landed with sickening force, each one driving him further into a corner. Bang! Crack! Volk, deep beneath the ground, felt the vibrations of the battle above. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The pain that wracked his body was like fire, burning through every nerve even though he was still in Radioactive Form, he didn''t expect this. However, what he didn''t know was that it was the fear that truly paralyzed him. The hesitation that gnawed at his heart, holding him back from unleashing his true raging potential. The old Grak''thor''s words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his limitations. A Labor Orc like you¡­ can only mutate twice. What if it was true? What if this was his limit? What if he transformed again and didn''t get stronger and stronger, but instead, he just burned out the time back to his Orc form and got killed? He could feel the energy inside him, the radioactive power that had once saved him in battle. But if he tapped into it now, what would be left of him? Would he even survive? What if his power is enough! What if this power is restricted like his Grum-gar form? Can only only powered up twice. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with both pain and fear. He was angry¡ªfurious, even¡ªbut the anger was tainted by something else. Something darker. The fear of the unknown. The fear of dying. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His mind was a storm, torn between the urge to fight and the fear of what that fight might cost him. Volk''s growl echoed through the earth around him. GRAAAAAAAGGHH!!!!! The sound was deep and guttural, vibrating through the stones like a distant earthquake. He could feel the weight of the earth above him, pressing down on his chest, trying to smother him. But he wasn''t ready to die. Not yet. With a snarl, he bit down on his tongue, he instantly felt the sharp pain cutting through the fog of fear that clouded his mind and he got angry! He forced himself to move, feeling his muscles straining as he began to dig through the earth. Not long, his hands clawed at the dirt, tearing through rock and stone as he burrowed upward. The pain in his body was a distant memory now, drowned out by the sheer force of his will. He could feel the anger building inside him as clawed up, a burning rage that threatened to consume him entirely. But he embraced it, welcomed it, letting it fuel his every movement. Growl! Scratch! Dig! Above, the battle raged on. Zenveil, now pushed to his limit, felt his control slipping further with every passing second. The Orcs were like a mindless muscle swarm, their sheer numbers overwhelming. His vision blurred, the world spinning as he staggered backward, trying to put distance between himself and the relentless horde. However, there was no escape. The Orcs were everywhere, biting, clawing, tearing at his flesh with an almost animalistic ferocity. "YOU DAMNED ORCS!" Zenveil screamed, his voice raw with frustration and pain. His hands glowed with dark energy, the power within him surging as he unleashed a wave of magic. After that, the muscle of the three headed Dozer began to expand with massive force. Kabam! The force of it sent several Grum-gar Orcs flying, and then one could see their bodies crashing against the cave walls with bone-jarring impacts. Boom! Bang! But the victory was short-lived. The Grum-gar Orcs picked themselves up, with their eyes blazing with undiminished and even fury. They were beyond pain, beyond fear. They were driven by something far more primal¡ªthe need to destroy, to obliterate their enemy, no matter the cost. And then, something changed. Zenveil''s eyes narrowed as he felt the power within him shifting, growing. The dark magic that had fueled him for so long now seemed to be feeding on his anger, his desperation. His body began to swell, muscles expanding as his form grew larger and larger. His laughter filled the cavern, deep and sinister. "HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA!" The Grum-gar Orcs faltered, their charge slowing as they beheld the transformation before them. Slowly, Zenveil and Dozer''s body had become a towering behemoth, his once human form now monstrous, grotesque. Whole Dozer became taller and wider. He loomed over the Orcs, and each of them seemed to feel his body radiating dark energy that crackled in the air around them. The Grum-gar Orcs, who had moments ago been filled with nothing but bloodlust, now hesitated. Fear crept into their eyes as they realized the sheer scale of the creature before them. They had been warriors, yes, but this? This was something else entirely. Zenveil''s laugh echoed in the cavern, a sound that was more beast than man. He relished the fear in their eyes, the way they shrank back from him. "YOU''RE NOTHING!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the very walls of the cave. "NOTHING!" But then, the ground beneath them trembled. A crack appeared in the stone, snaking its way across the cavern floor with a low, rumbling growl. The Orcs'' eyes widened in shock as the crack grew larger, spreading outward like a spider''s web. And then, with a deafening boom!, the ground exploded upward. Volk emerged from the earth like a force of nature, one could see his body was still coated in dirt and blood, and his eyes were burning with a fire that had not been there before. His fist was already in the move as he erupted from the ground, GURAAAA!! a blur of movement that Zenveil barely had time to register. BAM! Volk''s fist connected with the jaw of the center head of the three headed beast where Zenveil was. Chapter 51: Deep-rooted despair The cave was silent for a split second after Volk''s fist connected with the dog''s chin. However, silence was quickly shattered as the massive back paw of Dozer, the three-headed beast, flicked Volk away like a ragdoll. Bang! The sound echoed through the cavern, and it was heard there was a mixture of bone and muscle crackers. Crack! Crack!! Volk flew forward, his body cutting through the air like a missile. Swoosh! He slammed into the wall, with the impact sending shockwaves through his body. KAboom! For Volk, the world blurred for a moment, his vision swimming as the pain set in. Boooom! Boom boom boom bOoomm! The wall behind him cracked under the force, with some explosion of dust and debris raining down around him. Groaning, GRRRR Volk pushed himself out of the crater he had created, his muscles screaming in protest. AGAARRGGH!! His face contorted with rage as he staggered to his feet, the fire in his eyes burning brighter than ever. But then he saw it. The sheer size of the creature before him, its hulking form casting an ominous shadow over the cavern. Immediately, his anger faltered, his body unconsciously coming to a halt. Volk''s eyes widened as he looked around at the rest of his horde. The other Orcs, once mighty in their Grum-gar forms, were now trembling. Their bodies began to shrink, the power that had surged through their veins draining away. One by one, some of them began to revert to their normal Orc forms, with fear etched into their body tremors. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as he felt his own body begin to tremble too. The muscular muscles in his legs spasmed uncontrollably, his fear rising like bile in his throat. He could barely keep his balance, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of his terror. His mind raced, a maelstrom of confusion and dread. What was happening? Why was he so afraid? Zenveil, perched atop the central head of the monstrous pitbull, let out a maniacal laugh that echoed through the cavern. The sound was harsh, grating on Volk''s ears like nails on a chalkboard. GRAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!! sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Zenveil''s voice was filled with twisted glee, the laughter bubbling up from deep within his chest. His hands moved in quick, precise gestures, each motion accompanied by a sharp crackle of energy. The air around him seemed to vibrate with power, the very stones of the cavern quaking in response to his command. "That''s it!" Zenveil shouted, his voice rising in pitch as his laughter grew louder. "That''s it! That''s the only thing you should do against the superior race! My Warlock race!" The words hit Volk like a physical blow, his mind reeling as Zenveil''s voice filled every corner of his consciousness. "Your job was to serve us," Zenveil continued, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Despair in our presence and tremble before our power!" Volk could feel the truth of Zenveil''s words in every fiber of his being. His muscles quivered uncontrollably. He could feel the terror clawing at his insides, like some primal instinct to flee screaming in his mind. But there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide from the cave of this Catacomb! Zenveil''s voice took on a mocking tone as he continued his speech, his words cutting through Volk''s fear like a knife. "This is what happens to Orcs who dare to defy a superior race!" Zenveil spat, his eyes gleaming with malevolent delight. "This is the fate of those who challenge their betters. Look at yourselves! To us, you''re all nothing but insects, trembling before my might!" Volk''s heart sank as he looked around at the other Orcs. Their fear was palpable, one could see their bodies slowly huddling together like a group of frightened children. Their eyes were wide with terror, and their hands shaking uncontrollably as they clung to their weapons for dear life. But those weapons were useless now. The Orcs'' once mighty strength had been sapped away, leaving them vulnerable and weak. "Because now," Zenveil continued, his voice growing louder, more triumphant, "from the fifth Mag''Durotan body of Dozer, I stand before you in my Grum-gar form, just like all of you! But I am now comparable to a 21st Mender of Orc''s Mag''Durotan!" Volk''s blood ran cold at Zenveil''s words. The 21st Mender among the Orcs was a nightmare, a warrior whose power was unmatched low level Mag''Durotan like him. And now, Zenveil was claiming to have achieved that same level of power. "YES!" Zenveil roared, his voice echoing through the cavern like a thunderclap. "YES! THIS IS THE POWER OF US WARLOCKS! WE EXTEND YOUR POWERS TO TOP NOTCHES ONCE WE GOT A HOLD OF YOUR BODIES!" Zenveil''s eyes locked onto Volk''s, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "And you," Zenveil sneered, "you and your pathetic horde are nothing compared to me! Not a single one of you has even awakened your Third Grum-gar Mutation! HAHAHAHAHA!" The laughter that followed was a sound of pure evil, a twisted, mocking laugh that sent shivers down Volk''s spine. As if on cue, the Grum-gar forms of the other Orcs began to fade completely, their bodies shrinking back to their normal sizes. The power that had once surged through their veins was gone, replaced by a crushing sense of helplessness. The fear in their eyes was undeniable now, an overwhelming terror that gripped them with iron chains. Some Orcs dropped their weapons, with them cold steels clattering to the ground as their hands shook too violently to hold on. Others simply fell to their knees, with their bodies wracked with uncontrollable shivers. They were broken, their spirits crushed beneath the weight of Zenveil''s power. Volk was the only one left in his Grum-gar form, his body still swollen with muscle and rage. But even he couldn''t escape the fear that gripped his heart. His eyes were wide with terror as he stared up at the monstrous creature before him. Zenveil''s words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of the overwhelming power that stood against him. Why was he so afraid? The question tore at Volk''s mind, a gnawing doubt that threatened to consume him. Was it because he knew, deep down, that he was just like the other Orcs? That his Grum-gar form, no matter how powerful it seemed, was just a facade? Volk''s thoughts raced back to the words Grak''thor had spoken to him long ago. A Labor Orc like you¡­ can only mutate twice. The words haunted him since then, a constant reminder of his limitations. The other Orcs could grow stronger over time, their mutations increasing with each battle. But Volk? He was stuck. Trapped in the body of a Labor Orc, with his potential capped at the second mutation because he is just a Labor Orc. It is the Labor Orcs curse! So Volk''s limit was two. He was nothing. All his triumph, all his achievement will become nothing one day. That''s what Volk fears the most! That''s what he fears from the very bottom of his heart. But he knew this fear wasn''t new. It was old, ancient, a deep-seated terror that had haunted him his entire life. Back on Earth, Volk had been in a wheelchair. He had a weak and vulnerable body. An easy prey for those who sought to hurt him. His cousin''s boyfriend had been one of those people, a cruel man who had taken pleasure in tormenting him. The abuse had gone on for years, leaving Volk scarred both physically and mentally. When Volk had finally gathered the courage to report the abuse, his cousin had turned on him, defending her boyfriend with all her might. The betrayal had cut deep, leaving Volk more isolated and broken than ever. He had tried to fight back, but every attempt had ended in failure. Constant punch in the stomach, even if he fights back, it''s useless. Each defeat had added another layer to the fear that now gripped his heart. The boyfriend''s taunts echoed in Volk''s mind, a constant reminder of his weakness. "I''m superior to you because I''m not disabled like you," the boyfriend had sneered, the words cutting Volk to the bone. "There''s nothing you can do to stop me, so don''t take my girlfriend''s time too much because she is only for me to enjoy. Heh! Ooooh¡­ I''m gonna bang your cousin and make sure you listen carefully because I know you won''t be able to enjoy something like that! Hahahaha!" The fear had only grown over time, feeding on itself until it became a part of Volk''s very being. He had been powerless then, just as he was now. The only thing that had saved him back then was his uncle, a man who had stepped in to protect Volk when no one else would. But there was no one to save him now. No one to protect him from the monster that stood before him. The fear twisted in Volk''s gut, making him want to curl up and hide. His unconscious could feel that he was just as powerless now as he had been back then. Just as weak. Zenveil''s voice cut through Volk''s thoughts like a knife, sounding more sharp and cruel than ever. "What''s wrong, leader? Don''t use you want to fight back? Do you want this to end like this without any kind of twist for the sake of my fun for my awespiring revival?" Zenveil taunted, his tone dripping with malice. "Give it up! There''s no adult Orc here to save you. No one to protect you from me. You''re alone, and you''re weak. Krahahahha!!" Chapter 52: Taunting more With cruel delight, Zenveil could see the fear in the annoying hazardous orc''s eyes. It was intoxicating, a delicious thrill that sent shivers of pleasure down Zenveil''s spine. But it''s not enough, he wanted Volk to be fully consumed by fear and turn into his normal Orc form! Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, sinister whisper that echoed through the cavern like a death knell. "Thank me," Zenveil hissed, his words laced with venom. "Thank me for what I''ve done for you, little green buzzwark. You should be on your knees, groveling in gratitude for the mercy I''ve shown. "Do you know why you''re still alive? Why are you still standing in your Grum-gar form when all your comrades have reverted back to their pathetic, weak selves?" Volk''s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, his thoughts too jumbled to form a coherent response. His heart pounded in his chest, with rapid thudding drowning out all rational thought. He could only stare up at Zenveil, with his body frozen in place as the Warlock continued to speak. "It''s because of me, little guy," Zenveil continued, his voice a twisted blend of pride and malice. "I stopped Dozer from killing you all. He wanted to, you know. He wanted to rip you to shreds, to bathe in the blood of your pathetic horde because he can turn into a Grum-gar form after eating a whole lot of like your hornless Orc race. But I stopped him. I held him back, kept him in check. Why? Because I wanted to savor this moment. I want to see you all think that you have chances and see the look on your face when you realize just how powerless you really are." Volk''s body trembled as Zenveil''s words sank in, the truth of them twisting like a knife in his gut. It wasn''t just the physical pain that tore at him, but the sheer hopelessness of his situation. The knowledge that Zenveil had the power to end him at any moment, and yet he chose to keep him alive, to draw out his suffering. It was more than Volk could bear. Zenveil''s voice grew louder, more commanding as he straightened up, towering over Volk with a terrifying presence. "You''re nothing, hazardous Orc leader," he spat, his eyes narrowing with contempt. "Just a weak, sniveling Labor Orc who''s deluded himself into thinking he''s something more like a leader. But you''re not. You''re nothing but a coward, hiding behind your Grum-gar form, hoping it will somehow make you stronger. But it won''t, hazardous Orc. It never will." Volk''s mind flashed back to his life on Earth, the memories of his helplessness flooding his senses. The wheelchair. The abuse. The constant reminder of his inferiority. The always need to be saved by someone. The fear that had controlled him for so long, that had kept him in chains even when he tried to fight back. It was the same fear that now gripped his heart, the same fear that paralyzed him as Zenveil loomed above. Zenveil''s eyes gleamed with wicked amusement as he watched the fear play out on Volk''s face. He could see the Orc''s resolve crumbling, the last vestiges of hope slipping away. And it thrilled him. He wanted more. "You''re nothing but a meal to me, Orcs," Zenveil sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A piece of meat, waiting to be devoured. And I''m going to enjoy every second of it." Volk''s breath caught in his throat as Zenveil''s words hit him like a sledgehammer. His mind was a storm of emotions¡ªfear, anger, helplessness¡ªall swirling together in a chaotic whirlpool. He wanted to fight back, to prove Zenveil wrong. But the fear was too strong. It had taken hold of him, rooting him in place, sapping his strength. "And what''s this?" Zenveil mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think you can still fight? You think you can stand up to me? Look at yourself, Volk. You''re trembling. You can barely keep your feet under you. What hope do you have against me? Against the power of a Warlock?" Volk''s hands clenched into fists, he hated this. Zenveil leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Give it up, hazardous Orc leader," he hissed, his eyes boring into Volk''s with an intensity that made his blood run cold. "Give in to the fear. Let it consume you. Turn back into a normal Orc and accept your fate. Let me start my feast with all of your Orc friends. There''s nothing you can do to stop me but only watch me devour them one by one!" Volk''s body trembled uncontrollably, the fear coursing through him like a poison was making him shrink. Zenveil''s grin widened as he saw the despair in Volk''s eyes, the last traces of resistance fading away. "That''s it," he whispered, his voice a low, taunting purr. "Give up, hazardous Orc leader. There''s no point in fighting. You''re just prolonging the inevitable. You can''t win. You never could." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, the fear gripping him tighter and tighter, until it felt like he couldn''t breathe. Zenveil''s laughter echoed through the cavern, a sound of pure, unadulterated evil. "This is your end, little hazard orc," he declared, his voice ringing with finality. "Your last moment of defiance. And then you''ll be nothing but a memory, a forgotten footnote in the annals of history. Just another Orc who dared to challenge a Warlock and paid the price." Volk''s vision blurred as the fear slowly consumed him. He could feel the last vestiges of his strength slipping away, the power of his Grum-gar form fading into nothingness. He was on the brink of giving up, of surrendering to the fear, to death, when a memory flashed through his mind. It was a memory of his uncle, the man who had saved him from the abuse of his cousin''s boyfriend. His uncle had been a towering figure, a man of immense strength and courage. He had protected Volk when no one else would, had stood up for him when he was too afraid to stand up for himself. And in that moment, Volk remembered the words his uncle had spoken to him. "Don''t ever let fear control you, Volk," his uncle had said, his voice firm and unwavering. "You''re stronger than you think. You have a strength inside you that no one can take away. Don''t let anyone make you feel weak. Don''t let them take away your power." The words echoed in Volk''s mind, cutting through the fog of fear like a beacon of light. If it were in his past life, he wouldn''t have believed in his uncle. After all, he is born crippled. However, isn''t he normal now? So what if he was weaker? Didn''t he have two hands and two strong legs? Yes! So why be afraid! In the past, he just wanted to punch the boyfriend of his cousin in the face if he ever got a normal body, so why should he fear anyone? Zenveil''s laughter rang in Volk''s ears, a sound of triumph that grated on his nerves. But this time, the fear inside him suddenly felt like a breeze. With that breeze, a fire was ignited in his chest, a warm rage that was slowly heating. Zenveil''s eyes narrowed as he saw the change in Volk, the flicker of defiance that had returned to his eyes. "What''s this?" Zenveil sneered, his voice laced with irritation. "You think you can still fight? You think you can stand up to me?" Volk''s hands clenched into fists, the muscles in his arms bulging with renewed strength. He could feel the power of his Grum-gar form surging through him, the fear that had gripped him now slowly turning into anger, and his determination to at least break one Zenveil''s teeth was making his aura changed. He would be satisfied with that! Even if it was at least one teeth! Zenveil''s expression darkened as he saw the resolve in Volk''s eyes, the strength that had returned to his body. "You''re making a mistake, little green buzzwark," Zenveil warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You''re only prolonging your suffering." But Volk didn''t listen. He wasn''t afraid anymore. His eyes were green, deep seething and were slowly deepening. Zenveil''s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, the grin fading from his face. "No," he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "This can''t be¡­" But it was. Suddenly, Volk''s body pulsed with destructive power. | Ding! | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster and bigger. | Time Deduction: 30 seconds. | Current time duration: 6 minutes and 7 seconds. | Chapter 53: RAGE! RAGE! RAGE! Volk stood there, panting heavily, as the dust settled around him. His chest heaved with each breath, and his muscles bulged, throbbed with the strengthened destructive muscle of his Radioactive form. He could still feel the remnants of fear gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, but it was overshadowed by something far more potent: rage. Pure, unadulterated rage that coursed through his veins, rippling like molten lava, ready to explode and cause an extinction to all. Volk glanced down at the timer on his system interface. His eyes widened in surprise. Last time, he had only five minutes in his Radioactive form, but now¡­ now he had seven minutes. "How?" he thought, his mind racing. "Did I get stronger? No¡­ it must be thanks to Solluha''r. She must have done something¡­" but the one who was thinking was the Orc inside his radioactive form. He said, immediately, his thoughts were interrupted by a cold, mocking voice. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Zenveil''s voice slithered through the air like a serpent. The Warlock, perched on top of the center head of the massive three-headed dog, sneered at Volk. His eyes glinted with malicious glee as he observed the transformation taking place before him. "It seems you''ve bulked up quite a bit, hazard Orc. Impressive. Truly, I must say, I''m almost¡­ surprised." He leaned forward, his grin widening. "But don''t let it get to your head, little green buzzwark. It''s nothing more than a bit of extra meat for me to chew on." Volk''s eyes narrowed, with his blood boiling. The Warlock''s taunts only fueled the fire within him. His muscles immediately coiled, with every fiber of his being vibrating with barely contained fury. He wasn''t just going to fight Zenveil. He was going to destroy him if he could! He will use it all, even if his teeth were destroyed, he will be happy with it! Zenveil raised a hand, and with a sinister cackle, he commanded the hulking beast beneath him to attack. "Time to exercise my jaw!" he roared. The three-headed dog, a monstrous creation of flesh and dark magic, lunged forward with terrifying speed, one could see immediately its three sets of jaws snapped open to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. Volk braced himself. Grrrrr¡­ The ground beneath him cracked and buckled as he planted his feet, preparing for the onslaught. The first head came at him from the right, jaws wide open, ready to tear him apart. Kabagm! Volk let out a thunderous roar¡ª"GRAAAAAAHHH!!"¡ªas he swung his massive fist upward. BOOM! His fist connected with the side of the beast''s head, the impact sending a shockwave through the air. The head snapped back, but before Volk could celebrate, the second head was already upon him. CRUNCH! The jaws clamped down on Volk''s shoulder, the sharp teeth sinking into his flesh. Pain shot through his body, but instead of weakening him, it only made him angrier. "HAAARRGGHHH!!" His roar of pain morphed into one of fury as he drove his other fist into the beast''s neck. "AARRGGHH!!" The muscles in his arm bulged as he poured every ounce of strength into the blow. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. BANG! The force of the punch was immense, driving the second head backward, but the third head was quick to follow. It lunged at Volk''s midsection, intending to rip him apart. Volk reacted instinctively, GRRRRR!! twisting his body to the side as he brought his elbow crashing down onto the beast''s skull. THUD! The third head recoiled, but Zenveil''s laughter echoed through the battlefield, taunting Volk. "Is that all you''ve got, little Orc?" Zenveil mocked. "You''re barely scratching the surface!" Volk''s vision blurred with rage. He could feel the blood seeping from the wounds on his shoulder, but the pain only served to drive him further into a berserk state. "UWAAAARRRGGHHH!!" He roared again, the sound reverberating through the air as he charged at the beast. Each step he took shook the ground, cracks spider webbing outward from where his feet landed. KAGAM! The three-headed dog reared back, its massive claws slashing through the air. Volk ducked under the swipe, his eyes blazing with fury as he leaped upward. His fist came crashing down with a deafening BOOM!, connecting with the beast''s chest. The impact sent the beast staggering backward, but it quickly recovered, all three heads snapping at Volk simultaneously. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!* Volk weaved between the attacks, his movements fueled by pure rage. He slammed his fists into the ground, causing the earth to erupt in a shower of rocks and debris. The debris pelted the beast, momentarily disorienting it, but Zenveil''s laughter continued to echo in his ears. "You''re nothing but a brute, little buzzwark Orc! You think brute strength alone can defeat me?" Zenveil''s voice was dripping with contempt as he gestured with his hand. The beast''s wounds began to heal, the flesh knitting back together as if it had never been injured. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest. The sight of the beast healing so effortlessly sent a fresh wave of rage coursing through him. "VOOOLLLLKKK NOOOOOOT LITTTLEEEEE!!!" He could feel his control slipping, the primal instincts of the Radioactive form taking over. His vision tinged red as he let out a feral growl, his muscles straining against the limits of his form. Zenveil laughed, "HAHA You are little!!!" The three-headed dog lunged at him again, but this time, Volk was ready. He sidestepped the attack, his movements faster, more precise than before. He swung his fist in a wide arc, connecting with the beast''s ribs with a sickening CRACK! The beast howled in pain, AAAARRGHH!! but Zenveil''s voice cut through the noise. "Pathetic! You''re still just a toy for me to play with!" Zenveil taunted, his voice filled with glee. Volk''s blood boiled. GRRRR!!! "VOOOLLLLKK NOT PATHEEEEETIC!!!" The Warlock''s words were like gasoline on the fire of his rage. He could feel the power of his Radioactive form growing, the raw energy surging through his veins. Zenveil laughed again, "YOU ARE WEAK!!" UWWAARRGGHH!! With a roar that shook the very ground beneath him, Volk charged at the beast, his fists a blur of motion. BANG! BANG! BANG! Each punch landed with bone-shattering force, driving the beast back step by step. But no matter how much damage Volk inflicted, the beast kept coming, its wounds healing almost as fast as they were made. ''AAAAAAAAARRRGHHHHHH!!" Volk''s fury reached a fever pitch. He could feel the timer ticking down, the seconds slipping away. He needed to finish this, and fast. But the beast was relentless. It lashed out with its claws, catching Volk across the chest. SLASH! The pain was excruciating, but Volk didn''t falter. He brought his fists crashing down on the beast''s head, the impact sending tremors through the ground. Zenveil''s laughter filled the air. "Is that the best you can do, little orc? I expected more from you!" Volk''s growl rumbled deep in his chest. GRRRRRR!!! He could feel the anger boiling over, pushing him to the brink. He wasn''t going to let Zenveil win fast! With a final, earth-shattering roar, Volk unleashed all his strength in a flurry of punches, RAAAAGGH!! RAAAGGHH!! RAAAGGH!! each one landing with the force of a sledgehammer. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The beast staggered under the onslaught, but it wasn''t enough. Volk could see the wounds healing, the beast''s strength returning. He could feel his own strength waning, the timer ticking down to the final moments. And then, with a roar of its own, the beast retaliated. Its jaws snapped shut around Volk''s torso, lifting him off the ground. CRUNCH! The pain was blinding, but Volk''s rage was stronger. He grabbed hold of the beast''s jaws, prying them apart with sheer brute force. His muscles strained, his veins bulging as he forced the beast to release him. BANG! Volk hit the ground hard, but he was back on his feet in an instant. He could feel the blood trickling down his body, the wounds stinging with every movement. But he didn''t care. All he cared about was taking Zenveil down. The Warlock watched from atop the beast, his grin fading slightly as he saw the determination in Volk''s eyes. "You should be dead by now," Zenveil muttered, his voice laced with frustration. "Why won''t you just die?" Volk responded with a RAAAAAGGAAHAHH!! He didn''t have the time or the energy for words. He was focused, his mind set on one goal: bringing Zenveil to his knees. And then, in the midst of the chaos, a notification flashed across Volk''s vision. He blinked, momentarily distracted by the words that appeared before him. | Ding! | Would you like to use Nuclear Devastation Strike? | Volk''s mind raced. He had never seen this option before. But the name alone was enough to send a thrill of anticipation through him. He quickly glanced at the options that appeared beneath the notification. | 1. Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike: (10) | 2. Nuclear Devastation Wind Strike: (6) | 3. Nuclear Devastation Earth Strike: (3) | 4. Nuclear Devastation Water Strike: (3) | Chapter 54: Spore Bomb Volk''s heart raced as he stood before Zenveil, his body trembling with fury and determination. He didn''t know what was driving him to choose the wind-based attack, but something within him yearned to see Zenveil hurled through the air like a rag doll. Without thinking, Volk balled his massive fist, and suddenly, a transparent swirl of wind began to encase it, shimmering with a strange energy he had never felt before. His eyes widened, but before he could fully comprehend what was happening, his voice boomed throughout the cave, as if on instinct: "NUCLEAR DEVASTATION WIND STRIKE!" He shouted in his Grum-gar form, "GALE BOMB!" BOOM! His fist shot forward, smashing into the air with an earth-shattering sound, but the impact didn''t reach Zenveil. Instead, a brilliant magic circle flashed into existence between them, glowing a bright white with intricate designs of swirling blue lines weaving through it. It hovered in the air for a brief moment before vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared. For a split second, silence filled the cavern, and then Zenveil''s maniacal laughter echoed through the walls, reverberating like a haunting melody. "Kakakakakakakaka!" Zenveil howled, his laughter almost hysterical. He looked down at Volk with mocking eyes, a sneer of condescension painted on his twisted face. "Oh, this is rich! You think magic is that simple, Orc? Do you even understand the first thing about how this works?" Volk, still seething with anger, felt his frustration mounting as Zenveil continued to taunt him. The Warlock raised his hand, gesturing grandly as though he were a teacher addressing a clueless student. His voice dripped with arrogance as he began to explain. "Magic is not just about brute force, little buzzwark Orc. It''s not something you can simply will into existence. Magic requires control, mastery, and a deep understanding of its nature. "You don''t just snap your fingers and summon the winds! Kakaka! No, no, no. It takes years-of-years-of-years of study, practice, and most importantly, integration with magical beasts." Zenveil''s words oozed with disdain as he went on. "You see, we Warlocks are far beyond anything your simple mind could comprehend. To use a beast''s unique magic, we must first hunt the creature, extract the magical core from its body, and then fuse it with our own essence. "Only through this painstaking process can we gain access to the magic that creature once held. And even then, we must study the limits and strengths of the magic we''ve stolen to wield it effectively." Volk''s eyes narrowed as he listened to Zenveil''s lecture. The words felt like needles piercing his pride, but his anger was focused elsewhere. While Zenveil''s voice droned on, Volk''s gaze shifted to the system interface that had appeared before him. | Ding! | Nuclear Main Vessel elemental mana mastery of Nuclear Wind Mana is too low. | Volk scowled. That explained why the attack hadn''t worked. He wasn''t skilled enough in controlling the Nuclear Wind Mana yet. His fists clenched tightly, his mind racing. What should he do now? There had to be something else, right? | Ding! | Available attack: Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike. It is level ten mastery. | Volk''s brow furrowed in confusion. "Botanical?" he thought. He had no idea what kind of attack that was, but if the system said it had high mastery, it was worth a try. Before he could fully grasp the idea, Zenveil''s mocking voice cut through his thoughts once more. "Well? Are you going to try again? Or have you finally realized just how outmatched you are?" Zenveil taunted, his tone dripping with condescension. The Warlock waved his hand dismissively. "Come on, try harder, Orc. Give me a real challenge, if you can!" The taunt hit Volk like a slap to the face. His entire body tensed, and a growl rumbled deep within his chest, vibrating through the cave. His radioactive form seemed to pulse with anger, the green energy surrounding him flickering wildly. He couldn''t hold back any longer. "NO ONE UNDERESTIMATES VOLK!!!" he roared, his voice so loud that it shook the very stones of the cavern. His fury was a tangible force, and even Zenveil seemed momentarily taken aback by the intensity of Volk''s rage. But Zenveil''s surprise was short-lived. His mocking laughter only grew louder, more grating. "Kakakakaka! You think shouting will change anything? Pathetic!" Volk''s eyes blazed with rage as he thrust his fist forward again, Bang! this time with the intention of unleashing the Botanical Strike. A new magic circle appeared, deep green and pulsating with a strange, earthy energy. As the circle spun in the air, Volk felt something building, something far more dangerous than before. SWOOSH! | Ding! You have created an attack! | Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike: Spore Bomb. A twisted smile spread across Volk''s radioactive form face. His radioactive form seemed to glow brighter as he stared Zenveil down. He raised his fist high, the energy swirling around it like a storm. "SPOOOOOORE¡ª" The magic circle began to pulse faster, and Volk''s voice boomed through the cave as he finished the attack''s name. "BOOOOOMMMBBB!!!" BANG! Suddenly, a cloud of strange, chemical-like spores appeared out of thin air. The spores swirled around Volk''s fist before shooting forward like a gust of wind, aimed directly at Zenveil and the three-headed dog beneath him. Swoosh! The spores moved with unnatural speed, surrounding the beast and Zenveil in an instant. Zenveil, initially unfazed, waved his hand dismissively, a bored expression on his face. "What is this? Some kind of dust?" He chuckled, shaking his head as if Volk''s attack were nothing more than a joke. But then, something unexpected happened. The three heads of the monstrous dog began to twitch. One of the heads sniffed the air and let out a small sneeze. Ahchoo! Zenveil frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What¡­?" Ahchoo! Ahchoo! The sneezes grew louder and more frequent. Soon, all three heads were sneezing uncontrollably, their massive bodies shaking with each convulsion. The sneezes grew stronger, more violent, and Zenveil, now clearly alarmed, shifted in his seat atop the beast. "What is happening?! Why won''t it stop?!" Volk watched in amusement as the sneezing fit overtook Zenveil''s monstrous companion. The Warlock''s confident grin had completely disappeared, replaced by a look of bewilderment and growing frustration. But the sneezes weren''t the only thing happening. Zenveil''s expression shifted again, this time to one of discomfort. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wincing as if something wasn''t quite right. "What¡­?" Zenveil muttered, his voice trailing off as he squirmed. His eyes widened in realization. Something was very, very wrong. Volk''s radioactive form grin widened as the system screen popped up in front of him, revealing the effect of his latest attack. | Ding! | Spore Bomb effect: Random spore activated. | Current spore effect: Laxative. | Volk burst into laughter. "GRUHAHAHAHAHA!!" He couldn''t help it. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The mighty Warlock, the self-proclaimed superior being, was now battling not just Volk, but his own body. The sight of Zenveil, squirming atop his beast, unable to control the sneezing three-headed monster beneath him, was more than Volk could have hoped for. Zenveil''s face twisted in a mix of fury and horror as he realized what was happening. "Y-you¡­ YOU DID THIS!" he screamed, his voice high-pitched and panicked. Volk nodded, still laughing, his massive form shaking with mirth. "VOLK FOUND WARLOCK FUNNY, GRUHAHAHAHAHA!" Zenveil''s body tensed, his muscles spasming uncontrollably as he tried to maintain control of the situation. But no matter how hard he tried, the sneezes from the three-headed dog and the¡­ other effects were too much for him to handle. For a brief moment, Volk allowed himself to revel in the small victory. The mighty Warlock, so full of arrogance and superiority, was now reduced to a squirming, sneezing mess. But Volk knew this was far from over. Zenveil might be humiliated now, but the battle wasn''t won yet. Volk cracked his knuckles, his eyes narrowing as he prepared for the next phase. "VOLK NOT DONE!" He took a deep breath, focusing his mind. There was still more power within him. The Nuclear Devastation Strike had more to offer, and Volk was ready to tap into all of it! Chapter 55: VOLK MAGIC The air in the cave felt heavy, filled with the aftermath of the magic Volk had unleashed. The strange green spores that had filled the cavern now floated like harmless dust, lingering in the stillness that followed. Slowly, one by one, the Orcs who had been frozen in fear began to stir, their eyes blinking open as if waking from a nightmare. At first, they were confused, glancing at one another, their faces filled with a mix of terror and bewilderment. Each Orc had remembered they had transformed into their fearsome Grum-gar forms, their bodies hulking and monstrous, but now, they became an Orc again. But they couldn''t remember why. The last thing they recalled was being surrounded by the oppressive energy of Zenveil''s magic, the Warlock''s terrifying presence making them feel like prey. But now... what had happened? One of the older Orcs, Gurrak, a grizzled warrior with a scar running across his face, rubbed his temples as he tried to piece together the missing moments. "What... what is this?" he muttered, his voice low and hoarse. "Where are we? What happened?" Another Orc, a younger one named Brakk, staggered to his feet, still shaking off the fog of confusion. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I... I remember transforming," Brakk said, his voice uncertain. "But... after that? Nothing. It''s like... my mind went blank." "Same here," said another Orc, Torgash, his eyes wide with bewilderment. "One moment, I was ready to charge... then it''s just darkness." They all exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what to make of their situation. The cave was still dark and foreboding, but something had shifted. It was as though the power that had held them captive had lifted, and now, in its place, there was a different energy¡ªone that felt wild and unpredictable. Suddenly, a booming voice broke through the silence. It came from an Orc a little farther from the group, his body still towering in his Grum-gar form, radiating an aura of immense power. The Orc''s muscles bulged, and his eyes glowed with a strange, almost otherworldly energy as he raised his head and shouted into the air: "VOLK," it shouted, making them awake to realize they are still in the cave, "THE MOST UNPREDICTABLE THERE IS!!!" The words echoed through the cavern like a thunderclap, jolting the rest of the Orcs from their stupor. They turned toward the source of the voice, their eyes widening in shock. "Volk?" one of them whispered, disbelief clear in his voice. The others were equally stunned. They recognized the Orc standing before them¡ªit was Volk, a member of their own Dreadmaw Clan. But this wasn''t the same Volk they knew. His form was far more massive, more menacing, his entire body pulsing with a dangerous energy. There was something primal about him now, something... different. "Grum-gar form?" As the Orcs watched, their eyes glued to Volk, they saw him suddenly swing his fist through the air like a whip, the motion impossibly fast. And then, without warning, a large magic circle appeared before him, glowing with an eerie green light. "Swoosh!" A cloud of spores burst from the magic circle, exploding into the air and drifting toward something enormous in the distance. The Orcs squinted, trying to make sense of what they were seeing. Through the haze of the spores, they caught sight of a massive three-headed dog, its enormous frame towering over everything else in the cave. The sheer size of the beast sent a wave of fear through the group, but before their terror could take hold, something strange happened. The moment the spores touched the dog, its entire demeanor changed. At first, nothing seemed to happen. The dog stood still, its three heads unmoving. But then, after a few heartbeats, one of the heads¡ªthe one that resembled a vicious scarred pitbull¡ªsuddenly threw its head back and howled. "Woooooo!" The Orcs exchanged confused glances as the dog continued to howl, not in pain or anger, but in pure, unfiltered happiness. "Woooooo! Woooooo!" The head howled again and again, its eyes half-lidded in what seemed like utter bliss. "What... what''s happening?" one of the Orcs muttered, utterly baffled by the sight. "Why is it sounding so... happy?" None of them could comprehend what they were seeing. The massive war beast, which had been a symbol of death and destruction moments before, was now... howling with joy. The sight was both surreal and terrifying, after all, everyone is afraid of unknown. Meanwhile, Zenveil, who had been riding atop the monstrous dog, was fuming. His face twisted with rage as he glared at Volk, his pride shredded by the absurdity of what was happening. His mouth curled into a snarl, his voice shaking with fury. "This... this is an abomination! How can you wield magic like this?!" Zenveil roared, his eyes burning with hatred. "Magic cannot be spammed! There are rules, preparations, and limits! You can''t just throw out attacks like they''re nothing! This is impossible!" But Volk ignored Zenveil''s rant. His attention was fixed on the system screen hovering before his eyes. | Ding! | Effect: Paradise Illusion. | Would you like to use another Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike? | A grin spread across Volk''s face, wild and untamed. He could feel the power coursing through him, surging like a tidal wave. The energy of the Radioactive form amplified everything, making him feel invincible. Zenveil was still screaming at the top of his lungs, commanding the dog to move, but it wasn''t obeying. One of the heads continued to howl with glee, utterly lost in the illusion, while the other two were locked in place, confused by their companion''s behavior. "MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! DAMN YOU!" Zenveil shouted, his voice frantic, but no matter how hard he tried to command the beast, it wouldn''t budge. Volk chuckled darkly, his voice low and dangerous. "FUNNY WARLOCK PUPPY¡­" With a swift motion, he punched the air again, his fist colliding with the atmosphere like a thunderbolt. Another magic circle appeared, deep green and crackling with energy. In an instant, another wave of spores shot forward, enveloping the massive three-headed dog. Zenveil''s eyes widened with horror as he watched the spores take hold. "NO! NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!" The spores swirled around the beast, and this time, it was the left head that reacted. The left head, which had been glaring at Volk with fury moments before, suddenly became dazed, its movements sluggish and erratic. It blinked rapidly, as if trying to shake off some invisible fog. Then, without warning, the left head snapped toward the center, its jaws clamping down on the middle head with a loud kgmraaag! The middle head let out a pitiful whimper, and the entire beast staggered under the force of the bite. Zenveil, caught off-guard by the sudden shift, was thrown from his perch atop the center dog, tumbling to the ground with a loud KABAM! The Orcs watching from the side were speechless, their jaws hanging open in shock. "What... what is happening?" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible. Volk stood tall, his chest heaving with exertion, but his smile was full of satisfaction. He glanced at the system screen once again, reading the latest update. | Ding! | Effect: Confusion. | Volk''s grin widened. This was too good. He was ready to drive another punch, eager to see what the next attack would bring. But before he could move, Zenveil, now sprawled on the ground, screamed with a voice filled with pure, unadulterated rage. "ENOUGH!!!" The sheer force of Zenveil''s shout echoed through the cavern, and in an instant, an explosion of dark energy erupted from the Warlock''s body, flooding the cave with a violent shockwave. The ground beneath Volk''s feet trembled, and for a split second, everything was chaos. Chapter 56: True Origin of Orcs Volk''s muscles tensed as the countdown to the end of his Radioactive form loomed in his mind. Four minutes left. He felt the pressure mounting. Every second counted, and with each heartbeat, the sense of urgency grew. He had no time to think, no time to calculate his next move, no time to be distracted by chaos in front. His attacks were wild, chaotic, but that was all he could rely on now. The random nature of his strikes was his only hope. Maybe, just maybe, one of them would erupt and hit the Warlock hard enough to bring him down. He needed to spam randomly with different effects! Volk didn''t care about the system mission anymore. He didn''t care about completing objectives. All that mattered was survival¡ªand making the enemy in front feel any kind of enemy. The mission felt like a distant echo now, drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears. He roared, his body glowing with radioactive energy, his fists clenched, ready to swing again. Yes! His goal wasn''t just to survive! He needed to hurt Zenveil! Break him! Crush him! Smash him! But as he prepared to throw another punch, something cold and solid slammed into his skull. KABAAM! Volk was sent flying across the cave, his body crashing into the rough stone wall with a sickening bang. He crumpled to the ground, dazed, the world spinning around him. Pain exploded in his skull, but before he could even recover, the ground beneath him erupted with sharp stones, spearing upwards like jagged teeth. SHHHHK! The stones pierced through his limbs, pinning him to the ground. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They drove deep into his muscles, trapping him in place. He roared in pain, GRAAAAAAHHH!! thrashing against the restraints, but the more he struggled, the deeper the stones dug into his flesh. His radioactive energy flickered, weakening as the minutes ticked by. Through the haze of pain and struggle, Volk heard the echoing voice of Zenveil. "I''VE EXPLODED THREE OF MY FIVE HEARTS JUST TO FREE MYSELF FROM YOUR PATHETIC TRICKS!" Zenveil''s voice was filled with seething fury. His words bounced off the cave walls, twisted with madness. "YOU THINK YOU CAN HUMILIATE ME, YOU DAMNED ORC?! YOU''RE NOTHING! NOTHING! I AM YOUR MASTER!" Volk snarled, Graaaaaa! trying to wrench himself free, but the stones held firm. He could hear Zenveil''s pawsteps approaching, slow and deliberate, the sound of a man savoring his victory. "I am your creator, little Orcs. Without me, you wouldn''t even exist." Zenveil''s voice grew closer, dripping with venom. "Do you know why? Shall I enlighten you?" The Warlock finally appeared in Volk''s vision, standing tall and proud, with a lower body of a three headed dog, his pale face twisted with rage. He looked down at Volk with disdain, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. Zenveil raised his paw-like hand, the grotesque appendage that controlled the massive three-headed beast that loomed behind him. The paw crackled with dark energy as it moved closer to Volk''s head. "LET ME TELL YOU A STORY, ORC. A STORY OF YOUR PATHETIC ORIGIN." Zenveil''s eyes gleamed with malevolence as he crouched down next to Volk, his face inches away from the pinned Orc. The dark particles in his paw danced wildly as he began his tale. "YOU ORCS... YOU WERE ONCE CREATURES FROM RANDOM RANDOM REALM, BORN WITH HORNS, BORN WITH STRENGTH. BUT YOU WERE TOO POWERFUL. TOO WILD. YOU CAN ALSO TURN INTO AN ORC DEMON FORM, THE SAME WITH YOUR GRUM-GAR FORMS CALLED DIABOLIC FORM! "AND WE WARLOCKS COULDN''T CONTROL YOU AS YOU WERE. SO WE TOOK YOUR HORNS. YES, YOUR PRECIOUS HORNS THAT MADE YOU STRONG! WE RIPPED THEM FROM YOUR SKULLS!" Zenveil cackled, his voice rising with madness. "WITHOUT THEM, YOU WERE WEAK, PATHETIC, JUST LIKE YOU ARE NOW. HORNLESS ORCS. BUT YOU WERE STILL TOO UNSTABLE. SO WE WARLOCKS, IN OUR INFINITE WISDOM, DECIDED TO MIX YOUR BLOOD WITH THE BLOOD OF OGRES. "YES, THAT''S RIGHT. "THE MIGHTY OGRES. IT TOOK COUNTLESS EXPERIMENTS, COUNTLESS FAILURES, BUT EVENTUALLY, WE SUCCEEDED AFTER COUNTLESS OF YEARS. WE CREATED YOU! THE ORCOGRE! FAR WEAKER THAN REAL OGRES. AND FAR WEAKER THAN THE HORNED ORCS YOU ONCE WERE." Zenveil''s voice dropped to a whisper, but it was no less menacing. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW? YOU''RE NOTHING MORE THAN A SUCCESSFUL EXPERIMENT FOR WAR AGAINST THESE DARK WITCHES. YOU AND YOUR KIND WILL NEVER BE AS POWERFUL AS YOU COULD HAVE BEEN. YOU NEED FIVE FULL MUTATIONS JUST TO EVEN STAND A CHANCE AGAINST A REAL OGRE. BUT EVEN THEN... YOU''RE STILL JUST A WEAPON! A WEAPON FOR US WARLOCKS TO USE!!!" Volk''s vision blurred with rage. GRAAAAAAAHHH!!!! His body trembled as the radioactive energy within him surged, fighting against the pain, fighting against the humiliation. His mind screamed to break free, to tear Zenveil apart with his bare hands. But the stones held him tight, and the Warlock''s dark magic was seeping slowly into his skin, pinning him down. Zenveil''s paw hovered over Volk''s head, the dark particles swirling faster now. He grinned, his eyes wild with insanity. "And now, I''ll show you what true power looks like. Watch closely, little buzzwark Orc. I''ll inject you with a little something... a reminder of who owns you." Volk''s eyes widened as the paw made contact with his temple. The dark particles surged into his skull, filling his mind with searing pain. He roared, GRAAAAAAAA!! the sound ripping from his throat in agony, his body convulsing as the magic invaded him. "YES!" Zenveil screamed, his voice ringing with maniacal glee. "That''s it! SCREAM! Scream like the worthless creature you are! That''s all you''re good for! Scream for me! Scream for your master!" Volk''s roar grew louder, more primal, echoing through the cave like a beast being slaughtered. His muscles bulged, straining against the stone spikes that held him, his veins pulsing with the radioactive energy that was barely keeping him alive. The pain was unbearable, it''s was like a white-hot fire that consumed his entire body. "THAT''S RIGHT! Scream more! Suffer more! That''s what all you Orcs should do! How dare you try to rise above your creators?! HOW DARE YOU HUMILIATED ME!!? WE made you! WE are the reason you exist! Without us, you are nothing! NOTHING! SO¡­ YOU SHOULD CALL US YOUR MASTERS!" Zenveil''s laughter grew louder, more unhinged. He was completely lost in his own madness now, his eyes gleaming with the twisted joy of watching Volk writhe in pain. But inside Volk, something was changing. Beneath the pain, beneath the agony, a new feeling was rising¡ªRAGE. Volk''s mind was a maelstrom of fury. Zenveil''s words, the torture, the humiliation¡ªit all blended together into one singular emotion. He had been beaten down, trapped, and humiliated, but he wasn''t finished yet. He wouldn''t stop. He couldn''t stop. The fire in his chest burned hotter, brighter, until it consumed everything else. Volk''s eyes snapped open, glowing with radioactive energy. His lips curled back into a snarl, his teeth bared in a fierce grin. "YOU ARE¡­NOT VOOOOOOOOOOOLK¡­MASTEEEERRR!!!" His voice was low, but it was filled with raw, untamed desire to ruin. Zenveil blinked, momentarily startled by the sudden shift in Volk''s demeanor. "What did you say?!" he spat, his paw tightening its grip on Volk''s head. But Volk didn''t answer with words. He answered with a roar¡ªa roar so loud and powerful that the very stones pinning him to the ground began to crack and crumble. "RAAAAAAAGHHHHH!" The radioactive energy surged through Volk''s body, expanding outward in a violent wave of power. The stones shattered under the force, and Volk exploded free from his restraints, his entire form glowing with a blinding light. Zenveil stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock. "NO! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!" But it was too late. Volk was beyond reason now, beyond pain. He was pure rage, pure destruction, and he was coming for Zenveil. Zenveil barely had time to scream before Volk''s fist, crackling with energy, shot forward. KABAM!! The force of the blow sent shockwaves through the cave, the very ground shaking beneath them. "VOLK RAMPAAAAAAAAAAAAGGEEE!!!!!!!" Chapter 57: Fourth Phase Mutation Volk''s heart was pounding in his chest as the blood of pure rage surged through his veins. Time was slipping away. He only had minutes left in his Radioactive form, but he had no choice. He needed to press on. He needed to turn this Warlock into dust! GROOOOOOAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! With a roar that reverberated off the walls, Volk leaped high into the air, with his massive legs tensing. His movements were impossibly fast and incredibly destructive too, as if his muscles were sucking the air around and splitting them like blades that cannot even penetrate the muscles he had. The sheer force of his anger alone can make anyone suffocate. He spun mid-air, his legs curling up into his chest, then snapped them out with the force of a double soccer kick. His feet slammed into Zenveil''s twisted form. KABAM! The impact sent Zenveil flying, his half-body, three-headed monstrosity crashing into the cave wall. The force of it was so immense that the entire cave shook violently. WOOOOSSSHHHSDD Cracks raced across the walls, splitting the stone like brittle glass, and debris began raining down from the ceiling. Zenveil''s beast crashed to the ground with a deafening KABOOM, the sound echoing through the underground catacombs. Dust and debris filled the air as the cave continued to tremble under the sheer power of the attack. Volk, however, wasn''t finished. His blood was boiling, his fury not yet sated. "VOOOOOOLLLKKKK!" he screamed, his voice shaking the earth beneath him. "CRAAAAAASSSSSHHH!!!" He roared again, launching himself toward the crumpled figure of Zenveil. Volk''s vision was red with rage, his mind clouded with the desire to destroy. He wasn''t sure how he was doing this. How was he still standing? Still fighting? He had never felt this kind of raw, unchecked power before. As the dust settled around him, a familiar sound rang in his ears. Ding! The system message flashed in front of his eyes, its words glowing with an ominous light: | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster, and bigger. | Time Deduction: 1 minute. | Current time duration: 3 minutes and 7 seconds. | Volk blinked, the realization dawning on him. "Is this... why?" he mumbled under his breath. "But I''ve only mutated three times..." His thoughts raced. His form shouldn''t be this powerful. It shouldn''t be able to do this. In the Grum-gar form, three mutations meant he should have the strength of the 11th Mag''Durotan, not this... whatever this was. But this system, this strange mutation, wasn''t like the Grum-gar form. It was different. Before Volk could fully process what was happening, Zenveil''s form began to stir. The Warlock, battered and bruised, staggered to his feet. His body was shaking, and blood trickled from his nose and mouth. His once confident sneer was now twisted in confusion and fear. He stared at Volk in disbelief. "WHAT... WHAT IS GOING ON?!" Zenveil''s voice trembled, cracking with a mix of rage and terror. "YOU DIDN''T EXPLODE?! YOU AWAKENED THREE TIMES, BUT IF YOU REALLY MUTATED BY SHEER LUCK, YOUR STRENGTH SHOULD ONLY BE AT THE LEVEL OF THE 11TH MAG''DUROTAN! SO WHY? AND HOW ARE YOU... STRONGER THAN ME?!" Volk didn''t have an answer. His own mind was racing, trying to figure out how this was possible. His eyes flicked to the system screen still hovering before him. | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster, and bigger. | "Don''t tell me¡­" Volk muttered, piecing it together. His Radioactive form wasn''t bound by the same limitations as the Grum-gar form. In Grum-gar, he would''ve risen from 3rd Mag''Durotan, then slowly worked his way up to the 5th, 7th and 11th. But in this form... this was something else entirely. Could it be that different from Grum-gar, his Radioactive form, from 3rd Mag''Durotan, became 6th, then 12th and then 22nd Mag''Durotan!? "Is it... skipping ranks?" Volk thought aloud, his mind reeling. If this was true, then his strength wasn''t climbing gradually. His power was leaping¡ªdoubling¡ªexponentially¡ªwith every surge of rage. "Could I be¡­really¡­ 22nd Mag''Durotan...?" He snapped his gaze to Zenveil, his eyes widening in shock. "After all... Zenveil... Said he was only at 21st Mag''Durotan...!" sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Zenveil''s face paled at Volk''s aura. There''s no mistake, even though Volk only mutated three times, he could feel that Volk was now slightly stronger. His eyes flicked with fear, trying to process what he was hearing. "NO!" he screamed, as if denying the truth would make it disappear. But before he could react, he reached for the last desperate card he had. Immediately, he exploded one of his two remaining hearts, and the surge of dark energy instantly propelled him toward Volk. His paw slammed down on Volk''s forehead again, dark magic seeping from his fingers. "I refuse to believe that you can mutate four times! You''ll lose control like all the others until you ultimately exploded into thousand pieces like others!!" Zenveil''s voice was shrill, a frantic edge to his words. He grinned, but one could see his eyes were wide and shining with desperation. "This time, I''ll make sure you don''t evolve again! Now, break, into thousand PIEEEECESSSSS!!!!!" The dark particles of magic seeped deeper into Volk''s skull, clawing at his mind. Zenveil''s plan was simple: overwhelm Volk''s body and force his unstable form to collapse under the weight of its own mutations. He had done it before, with other Orcs who had dared to evolve too far. They all ended the same way¡ªexploded into bloody pieces, unable to control the power surging within them. But as Zenveil''s dark magic coiled around Volk''s brain, something unexpected happened. | Ding! Another system message appeared before Volk''s eyes: | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster, and bigger. | Time Deduction: 2 minutes. | Current time duration: 1 minute and 7 seconds. | Volk felt it immediately. His body expanded, his muscles bulging, veins pulsing with radioactive energy. His skin stretched as his size increased, his very bones crackling under the pressure of the power coursing through him. Zenveil''s confidence shattered. His plan¡ªhis ultimate scheme¡ªwas crumbling right before his eyes. Volk was evolving again. "NO!" Zenveil stumbled backward, his face twisted in terror. "IMPOSSIBLE!!!" His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He watched in horror as Volk''s body grew larger, more monstrous, more unstoppable. Volk''s lips curled into a smile as the realization finally dawned on him. He wasn''t bound by the Grum-gar form''s limitations. His power wasn''t that of a mutated Orc. He was something different. Something more. "It''s not Grum-gar¡­ It''s Radioactive!" Volk''s voice boomed through his mind, yet even it was in his mind, his deep growl shook the very ground beneath him. Zenveil took another shaky step back, his eyes wide with fear. "No... this cannot be happening...!" Volk raised his massive hand, his fingers curling into a fist the size of a boulder. His body radiated with raw power, his muscles coiling with the force of a bomb ready to explode. "VOOOOOOOOLLLLLKKKKK!!!" His shout echoed through the cave, the ground trembling beneath the sheer volume of his voice. Rocks began to fall from the ceiling, cracks spreading across the walls like spiderwebs. Zenveil panicked. He began to spam attacks, flinging every spell, every curse, every shred of dark magic he could summon. Yet it became all not that effective. The air around them crackled with dark energy, but Volk''s body absorbed it all. "NO! NO! NO!" Zenveil shrieked, his voice high-pitched and frantic. His attacks were useless. They bounced off Volk''s impossibly tough muscles, harmlessly dissipating like sparks against steel. Volk''s smile widened, his eyes locked on Zenveil. "SQUUAAAASSSSHHH!" Volk roared, bringing his massive fist crashing down. KABOOM! The ground shattered beneath Zenveil''s feet as Volk''s fist collided with the earth. Zenveil screamed, but his voice was drowned immediately by Volk''s destructive fists. SPLAAAAATTTT!! Chapter 58: TIMES CHANGED Volk stood over the remains of Zenveil, his chest heaving with labored breaths, with his mind also clouded in a haze of rage. He could feel his muscles were swollen with unnatural power, they were pulsating with radioactive energy that coursed through his veins, wildly. He looked down at the mangled, splattered remains of Zenveil, his half-body crushed into the ground like pulp, the three heads of the monstrous dog flattened beneath Volk''s relentless strikes. There was nothing left but the twitching remains of Zenveil''s final heart, still beating faintly amidst the destruction he caused to its whole body. Immediately, Volk''s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked audibly and splitting the air around absentmindedly. His teeth were bared in an uncontrollable snarl as his mind wanted him to rampage! GRRRRRR¡­. He should have been satisfied. The Warlock was defeated, destroyed utterly, but inside, all Volk could feel was rage. "VOOOOOOLLLKKKKK" Volk radioactive form roared, and his voice echoed violently like a thunderclap through the crumbling catacombs. His chest vibrated with the force of it, but no amount of screaming seemed to quell the storm within him. He didn''t understand why he was so angry. Everything was supposed to be over. He should have felt victorious. Volk should be the winner¡ªright? However, instead, he felt a deep, crawling dissatisfaction in his spine, and it was too slow, making him felt an endless feeling of irritation. A primal fury that only seemed to grow stronger the more he thought about what had just happened. His body trembled, not from exhaustion, but from the unrelenting wave of frustration that surged through him. "Why did I hesitate earlier?" he growled to himself inside his head, his eyes narrowing as he replayed the battle in his mind. That hesitation earlier, that fear... It had gripped him like a vice. For a moment, he''d felt weak¡ªlike he was back on Earth, crippled, powerless, helpless. The sensation made him want to tear the world apart. He had doubted himself, doubted his power. He had let fear creep into his heart when he should have trusted the system that gave him strength. "What is that fear?! What is that hesitation!?" he bellowed. His voice cracked, reverberating through the nervous system. His fists shook, trembling with unspent fury. He should have embraced his power from the start. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He should have relished in it, unleashed it without restraint. Instead, he had let Zenveil make him doubt himself, and now, as he stood over the Warlock''s ruined body, all he felt was disgust. "SMAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSHHHHHH!!!!" Volk roared again, louder this time, his voice echoing with such intensity that the walls around him trembled. Cracks spider-webbed further up the cavern''s ceiling as if the sheer force of his voice could bring the whole structure down. Meanwhile, Zenveil, clutching his last heart, barely clinging to life, trembled in disbelief. He lay sprawled amidst the remains of the three-headed beast, his mind reeling. "How is this possible...?" he muttered, his voice weak and broken. His eyes flickered with disbelief. "He awakened mutation phase four times...!" Zenveil''s voice became a raspy whisper, barely audible. "It... it shouldn''t be possible. No one... no one evolves that many times... not even by luck!" His trembling fingers dug into the flesh of his dying heart, desperately trying to hold on to whatever semblance of life he had left. But then, he heard Volk''s voice again, louder, more monstrous than ever. "AAARRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" Zenveil''s heart lurched in his chest. The ground shook violently, a force beyond comprehension. He tried to crawl away, his broken body dragging itself futilely across the ground, hoping to survive, hoping to escape¡ªanywhere, even if it''s only a one percent chance, he wanted to. Even though he knew, deep down, it was too late. "NOOO!!!" Zenveil screamed, "THIS ISN''T WHAT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!! WE ARE YOUR MASTERS!!! IN THE HISTORY AND NOW, NO WARLOCK COULD BE BEATEN BY HIS CREATION, NEVER!!!!!" but his cry was cut short. However, Volk''s growl was heard. "TIIIIIIIIME''S CHAAAAAAAANGED WARLOCCCKK SMAAAAALLL!!!!!!!" Volk''s fist came crashing down, slamming into Zenveil''s remains with the force of a mountain. KABAM! The Warlock''s remaining heart shattered instantly, his body immediately turned into nothing more than a smear of blood and flesh on the cold, hard ground. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the cave, causing the walls to tremble even more violently. Stones tumbled from the ceiling as the ground quaked under Volk''s wrath. But Volk wasn''t done. Not even close. He raised his fists again, the rage still coursing through him like wildfire. He didn''t care about strategy or tactics anymore. His mind was blank with fury. He slammed his fists into the ground repeatedly, over and over again, with no care for the destruction he was causing. "BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!" Each impact made the entire catacomb shake as if the very earth was protesting the sheer force of his blows. The ground beneath Zenveil''s remains crumbled further, pulverized into dust and debris. The rocks above groaned, and the walls around him seemed on the verge of collapse, but Volk didn''t care. He couldn''t stop. He wouldn''t stop. Meanwhile, in a little far section of the catacombs, Lhum''Baggar, Grashk, Grok''Thar, and the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs were wide awake now, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had felt the tremors, heard the thunderous crashes, and now they knew what was happening. It was Volk. Their leader was the one battling in the depths of the cave. And his opponent? Warlock Zenveil. The very Warlock who had taken control of the dungeon boss, a monstrous, three-headed creature, a descendant of the legendary Cerberus, named Dozer. The Orcs exchanged nervous glances as the walls shook violently around them. They could barely comprehend the power they were witnessing. "BAM! BAM! BAM!" The sounds of Volk''s fists smashing the ground echoed through the halls, each one sending a fresh jolt of terror through the group. Grashk, always the boldest of them, was the first to speak. His voice shook with awe and disbelief. "It''s... it''s Volk... he''s fighting the Warlock..." The other Orcs looked at each other, confusion and fear in their eyes. They didn''t understand how Volk had become so massive, so powerful. But what they did understand was clear: Volk had defeated the Warlock. "LEADER IS THE STRONGEST!" Grashk suddenly bellowed, his voice filled with raw admiration. "VOLK IS VICTORIOUS!!!" The other Orcs hesitated for only a moment before their voices joined Grashk''s in a chorus of cheers. "VOLK IS VICTORIOUS!!!" "THE WARLOCK SLAYER!!!" Their shouts echoed through the catacombs, their cheers rising like a wave of thunder. They banged their fists against their chests in unison, their voices growing louder with each passing second. "LEADER IS THE STRONGEST!!!" "VOLK IS VICTORIOUS!!!" Volk, still trembling with rage, paused for a moment as the sound of the cheers reached his ears. He turned, his massive frame casting a dark shadow over the remaining Orcs. They stood there, staring up at him, their eyes filled with awe. For a moment, Volk was speechless. He had been so consumed by his fury, by the chaos of battle, that he had forgotten there were others here. And now, as he stood over the shattered remains of Zenveil, his rage slowly began to ebb. He raised his hand, almost hesitantly, and turned toward the cheering Orcs. Then, with a voice filled with a strange mixture of disbelief and pride, he shouted, "VOOOLLLLKK IIIISSS VICTORIOUUUUUSSSSS!!!!" Chapter 59: MISSION COMPLETE The Dreadmaw Clan marched through the rugged terrain, each step heavy and deliberate, their massive forms causing the ground beneath them to tremble ever so slightly. It was as though the very earth feared their presence, shifting and cracking beneath their weight. At the front of the procession was Volk, now back in his normal Orc form, though still larger and more imposing than the average Orc. Around his neck hung an ornament¡ªone of the skulls of the three-headed dog, Dozer¡ªfashioned into a crude necklace. The skull, bleached white with deep cracks from the battle, dangled from a thick, leather cord, a grisly reminder of his victory over the Warlock Zenveil and his monstrous beast. In his hands, Volk carried a massive crystal, its size so great that it required both arms to manage. The crystal glowed faintly with an eerie, pulsating light, shiiiiing! casting long shadows on the ground as they moved. Every time Volk adjusted his grip, the ground beneath him trembled, and the other Orcs would glance nervously at the ground, unsure if the earth itself might give way under the weight of their march. Grashk, walking slightly behind Volk, was the first to break the silence. "Volk," he said, his voice rough but respectful. "That Warlock... he said some things back there. About our kind. Do you think it was true? What he said about us Orcs their creation?" Volk grunted in response, his eyes fixed ahead, but after a moment, he slowed his pace and turned his head slightly. "Grashk," he began, his voice a low growl, "is that true? Plus, do we really get weaker without a... mate?" Grashk scratched his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Well... I don''t know for sure. But what Zenveil said, it''s not the first time I''ve heard it. It''s said that when an Orc loses his companion, he can get weaker if he doesn''t have a lady. And if he doesn''t find one soon, he''ll start to wither. They say he''ll get thinner and weaker, until he becomes nothing more than a shadow of himself. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Twice weaker than a goblin, even." Volk''s brow furrowed in confusion. The thought of any Orc, especially one as powerful as himself, being reduced to something weaker than a goblin felt absurd. "So, it''s true then?" he asked, trying to wrap his head around it. Grashk nodded slowly. "Aye, but it doesn''t happen to all Orcs. Some are... like Grak''thor back in the clan, he doesn''t get thinner." At the mention of the butcher, Volk''s mind flashed to the hulking figure of Grak''thor. Despite the hardships their clan faced, Grak''thor had never shown signs of weakness or decline. "Grak''thor isn''t getting weaker though," Volk said, his brow knitting further. "Why is that?" Grashk gave a knowing grin. "Grak''thor was born in a clan that didn''t thrive in the middle of the hazardous forest before he came to us Dreadmaw Clan. His kind didn''t face the same dangers we do. They didn''t have to fight for survival against the hazardous magic particles as much, and their land was without those harmful particles, so they didn''t get to get thin and weak without a lady. However, they still get weaker like us, they are just not getting thinner..." He shrugged. "It''s different. That''s why he still look strong. And... the Elven Witches." Volk''s gaze narrowed. "The Elven Witches?" he repeated, his tone demanding clarification. "Aye, they help us out more than you think," Grashk explained, his voice a little quieter now, as if sharing a secret. "They need us just as much as we need them. If they stay out in the hazardous magic too long, they''ll die. So we have to find these magic catacombs, like the one we just raided, and bring back the crystals. That way, they can purify the land around the clan. If they don''t, the whole place will become unlivable for both Orcs and Elves alike." Volk''s mind churned with the new information. He clenched his fists and muttered under his breath, "So we''re like... their lifeline. Like an electric bulb that burns out if we don''t find more power. No wonder they push us into these catacombs. But we also need them." As the group continued, Volk''s thoughts became more entangled. The puzzle pieces of their existence, the precarious balance between Orcs and Elves, the strange powers of their enemies¡ªeverything weighed heavily on his mind. Then, as if to cut through the tension, a familiar sound chimed in his head. | Ding! Volk blinked in surprise, momentarily shaken from his thoughts. | New mission completed. | Defeat and show dominance against Grum-gar Dozer in its fourth Grum-gar evolution. | Rewards: Team Grum-gar evolution. | Volk''s steps slowed as he processed the words. "Huh?" he mumbled. "What is this...?" And then it hit him. The mission. The mission he had barely paid attention to earlier. "Oooh," he muttered, almost laughing at himself. Grashk and the others noticed Volk slowing down, and their pace faltered as well. Finally, after several more steps, Volk came to a full stop. "Wait," Volk commanded, his deep voice carrying authority. The entire group halted at once, turning their attention to Volk, waiting for his next move. There was a tension in the air, and the other Orcs, sensing the weight of the moment, remained silent. Volk''s eyes scanned the group, his gaze hard and serious. "If we go back like this, with Grum-gar forms spent up, will we be vulnerable?" he asked, his voice low but pointed. Grok''Thar, standing at the back, furrowed his brow. "No, we won''t. The rules of the Orcs protect us from that kind of attack," he said confidently. But then, his eyes widened as if a sudden thought struck him. "Unless..." His voice faltered. Volk turned sharply to face him, his expression demanding an answer. "Unless what?" Grok''Thar swallowed, his face paling slightly. "Unless it''s the Bloodfang Clan." The mention of the Bloodfang Clan sent a ripple of unease through the group. Volk''s expression hardened as he absorbed the gravity of Grok''Thar''s words. The Bloodfang Clan was the group of Orcs he disregarded earlier because he wanted to know his Grum-gar form if it''s really different from the Radioactive form of his system. Volk nodded, his mind thinking rapidly. He knew it was his fault. If they faced the Bloodfang Clan without Grum-gar forms, they could be ambushed, and despite their victory against Zenveil, they wouldn''t stand a chance. He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of responsibility settle heavily on his shoulders. Then, suddenly, Volk took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly as he gathered his thoughts. He looked around at the faces of the Orcs who had followed him into battle, who had placed their trust in his leadership. "I want to try something," Volk said, his voice steady and full of intent. The others stared at him, confused but intrigued. Grashk tilted his head, curiosity evident on his face. "What is it, Volk?" Volk didn''t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, placing the massive crystal down on the ground in front of them. Its faint glow pulsed gently, casting strange shadows across the walls of the cave. "I think..." Volk began, his voice slow and measured. "I think you all can turn into a third phase mutation." Chapter 60: Third Phase Mutation The moment Volk made his proclamation, a silence fell over the group. Woooooosh! His fellow Dreadmaw Clan Orcs stared at him in disbelief. Their leader was always a force to be reckoned with, but this? He transformed four times because of the Warlocks and they knew it should not be permanent. However, can they also transform? The idea that they could simply "awaken" again after their battle against the Warlock Zenveil seemed ridiculous. They exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether Volk was being serious or had simply lost his mind. Grok''Thar was the first to break the silence. He laughed, a short, barking sound that echoed off the cave walls. "Volk," he said, shaking his head. "That''s impossible! We already used our Grum-gar forms. No one just awakens again like that. Not after a fight like this. What are you thinking?" Grashk joined in, scratching his chin with a smirk. "Aye, Volk. You''ve led us through some insane battles, but this? There''s no way. We can''t just... reset, like we''re some sort of machine." Another Orc chimed in, nodding along. "Yeah, Grum-gar is something we build up over time, through hard battles and pushing our limits. We''re all drained after fighting Zenveil. The idea of us just... doing it again is nonsense!" The others began to laugh, with their voices filling the cavern with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. Volk''s intensity seemed misplaced, even comical, in the face of such an absurd suggestion. They had all fought with every ounce of strength they had, and now, they were simply trying to recover. Gurrak, the youngest of the group, wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "Maybe we can do it tomorrow, eh, Volk?" He grinned, his tusks glinting in the dim light. "We''ll all wake up refreshed, maybe have a bit of breakfast, and then, bam! Grum-gar again! I mean, why wait? Let''s do it now!" His tone was teasing, mocking the very idea. The Orcs roared with laughter, slapping each other on the back and shaking their heads. The sheer ridiculousness of the conversation had turned a tense situation into something of a joke. Even the thought of facing the Bloodfang Clan couldn''t keep them from chuckling at the absurdity. But Volk wasn''t laughing. His eyes remained locked on Gurrak, his expression deadly serious. "Do it," he said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. The laughter died instantly. Gurrak blinked, confused. "Huh?" "I said do it," Volk repeated, his tone unwavering. "Try to transform. If we can do it now, we''ll be ready if the Bloodfang Clan comes for us. We''ll crush them if they try to take our crystals." Gurrak''s throat went dry, and he swallowed nervously. He glanced around at the other Orcs, seeking some kind of reassurance, but they were just as stunned as he was. The weight of Volk''s command was settling over them like a heavy cloak. This wasn''t a joke anymore. Their leader was serious. "You''re... you''re serious?" Gurrak stammered, looking back at Volk. His mind raced. It was impossible, wasn''t it? But Volk''s eyes bore into him, and the weight of his command was undeniable. Seeing no way out, Gurrak sighed and straightened his back. "Alright," he muttered, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I''ll give it a try... but don''t expect anything." He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The familiar feeling of energy coursing through his veins wasn''t there, at least not in the same way it had been before their battle. But as he concentrated, something strange happened. A tingling sensation spread through his body, slow at first, but then it grew stronger, more intense. The other Orcs watched with wide eyes as Gurrak''s muscles began to bulge, his veins popping out like thick cords. His skin darkened, his frame expanding as his body slowly transformed. His legs grew thicker, his arms like tree trunks, and his back arched as the sheer mass of his Grum-gar form took over. His tusks elongated, his face contorting into a more savage, primal form. Gurrak opened his eyes, now glowing with a feral light, and took a step forward. The ground beneath him cracked from the pressure of his weight. His form was still growing, slow and deliberate, like a boulder rolling down a hill, unstoppable and inevitable. The other Orcs stood there, dumbfounded. They watched in stunned silence, the air thick with disbelief. Gurrak had actually done it. He had transformed. Even though he had already used his Grum-gar form in the battle against Zenveil, he had somehow managed to trigger it again. THUD. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The crystals the Orcs were carrying fell to the ground, one by one, as they stared, slack-jawed, at Gurrak''s massive form. The sound echoed ominously through the cavern, but no one moved. No one spoke. They were all transfixed by the impossible transformation happening right before their eyes. Gurrak, breathing heavily, looked down at his new form, his voice a low growl. "I... I did it." His tone was filled with disbelief, as though even he couldn''t believe what had just happened. But before he could say more, Volk''s voice cut through the air once again. "Wait!" Volk commanded, raising a hand to stop the celebration that was just about to erupt. The Orcs froze, their cheers dying in their throats as they turned their attention back to Volk. His eyes glinted with intensity. "Now, turn into your second mutation of the Grum-gar form." Gurrak''s jaw dropped slightly. He had barely believed he could manage the first transformation, let alone a second. His heart raced as he looked around at the other Orcs, their eyes now gleaming with hope. The weight of their expectations pressed down on him, but something inside him stirred¡ªsomething primal, something powerful. Gurrak clenched his fists, his muscles tightening further. "Alright," he growled. "Let''s see if it''s possible." With a roar, Gurrak''s body expanded once more. His shoulders broadened, his arms swelled to even more terrifying proportions, and his legs grew like thick pillars of stone. His skin darkened further, thickening as his form became even more monstrous. His already massive body grew larger, more menacing, and his face twisted into a visage of pure rage and power. The Orcs watched in awe as Gurrak entered his second mutation. His body now towered over them, nearly twice the size of a normal Grum-gar. The sheer presence of him was overwhelming, like a mountain standing among hills. He took another step forward, and the ground trembled beneath him. Yet, before the Orcs could begin to celebrate, Volk''s voice rang out once more. "Now, turn into the third mutation!" The Orcs gasped in unison. The third mutation was rare¡ªalmost unheard of for an Orc who hadn''t yet surpassed Fifth Mag''Durotan. Those who achieved such a feat were considered the rarest talent, with a chance to become champions of their clans, and here was Volk, demanding that Gurrak attempt it now, in front of them all. Gurrak''s eyes widened, but the determination burning in his chest drowned out his doubt. If this was possible, then he could become something more than just another Orc in the Dreadmaw Clan. He could become one those rare talent. With a final roar that shook the very cavern, Gurrak''s body erupted into its third mutation. His muscles rippled with power, his skin became nearly stone-like in its density, and his form expanded to a monstrous size. His teeth elongated into tusks that jutted out like daggers, and his eyes burned with the light of pure, untamed rage. The transformation was slow, almost majestic in its brutality. Each second felt like an eternity as Gurrak''s body reshaped itself into something beyond what any of them had ever seen. His presence was overwhelming, like his very existence radiating raw power. The Orcs stood there, with their hearts pounding heavily in their chests. They stared at Gurrak with awe and dread, for what stood before them was not just an Orc¡ªit was a monster, a force of nature, a being of pure, unrelenting destruction. Gurrak, breathing heavily, looked down at himself, his voice a deep, rumbling growl. "I... I did it." Chapter 61: Another test The cheers erupted like a storm within the catacombs. The Orcs raised their fists in the air, their deep voices booming through the cavern as they surrounded Gurrak, now a hulking behemoth after successfully completing his third Grum-gar mutation. The once dim-lit and tense cave now echoed with the sound of triumph. "GURRAK! GURRAK! GURRAK!" They chanted his name in unison, their voices bouncing off the stone walls. Gurrak stood tall in the middle, his chest heaving, his massive form looming over the others. He raised both his thick, muscled arms, flexing with pride as the rest of the Orcs slapped his back and grabbed his arms in congratulations. "I can''t believe it!" one of the Orcs shouted, his voice barely audible over the roaring celebration. "Three mutations! Three!" Another Orc, his eyes wide with astonishment, leaned in close to Gurrak, studying his enormous frame with disbelief. "I''ve never seen anything like it... You''ve become a beast!" The group of Orcs, now energized with excitement, couldn''t stop themselves. "If Gurrak can do it, so can we!" one of them shouted, thrusting his fist into the air. "Three mutations!" another Orc exclaimed, punching the ground beneath his feet, causing a tremor. "If this is what we can become, the Bloodfang Clan is nothing! NOTHING!" They continued to shout, each trying to outdo the other in their praises and celebrations. The tension that had plagued them after their battle with Zenveil had completely evaporated, replaced with newfound confidence and pride. It felt like their entire world had shifted. Gurrak, one of their own, had achieved something only legends spoke of. Suddenly, another Orc, his eyes gleaming with both excitement and envy, stepped forward. "I want to try too!" he declared, his voice cutting through the cacophony. The others turned toward him, one could feel their excitement was palpable. They were eager to see another of their own transform, to witness the impossible again. It was as if their blood was boiling, the primal urge to grow stronger burning in their veins. But before the Orc could take another step, Volk''s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "Don''t." The Orc froze, blinking in confusion. He turned to Volk, his face scrunched up in bewilderment. "Why not?" Volk''s gaze was firm, his voice low but steady. "There''s still the Bloodfang Clan," he said. "Save it for later. We''ll need every bit of strength we can muster if they decided to antagonize us." The Orc hesitated, glancing back at Gurrak, who still stood triumphant in his third mutation. His desire to transform, to feel that surge of power, was undeniable. "But what if it''s only Gurrak who can do it? What if we''re not the same?" he asked, voicing the doubt that flickered in the back of every Orc''s mind. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his voice as steady as a mountain. "It''s not just Gurrak. It''s all of you." Still, the Orcs around him weren''t entirely convinced. The doubt lingered, gnawing at them. After all, seeing one of their own mutate three times was an incredible feat, but surely not all of them could be that lucky, could they? Volk sighed, sensing their skepticism. "Alright," he relented, his tone softening just a bit. "I''ll let only one more of you transform. But just one. We need to prove this once and for all." At this, the Orcs exchanged eager glances, excitement buzzing in the air again. They jostled one another, each wanting to be the one who got the chance. But it was Grashk, the older, battle-worn Orc, who stepped forward, a confident smirk on his face. "I''ll do it," Grashk said, his deep voice cutting through the noise. "I''ve only ever been able to mutate once in my life. If I can do it three times, then we''ll know Volk''s right." The others roared in approval, slapping Grashk on the back and cheering him on. He stepped forward, standing in the middle of the group, his muscles tensing as he prepared to attempt the impossible. His eyes met Volk''s, and Volk gave him a single nod of approval. Grashk closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself. The familiar energy surged through his body, but this time, it was stronger, more intense. He could feel the primal power of the Grum-gar form coursing through his veins, and as he focused, his body began to shift. His muscles expanded, his frame growing larger as his first mutation took hold. His skin darkened, his tusks grew longer, and his body took on the more brutish form of the Grum-gar. The Orcs watched in awe as Grashk transformed, their cheers growing louder. But he wasn''t done. Grashk gritted his teeth, pushing himself further. His muscles bulged even more, his skin thickening, his bones cracking and reshaping as his body grew larger still. He roared as his second mutation took hold, his once large form now towering over the others. The Orcs could barely contain their excitement. "He''s doing it!" one of them shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "He''s really doing it!" Grashk, now in his second mutation, stood tall, his breathing heavy, his eyes wild with the power surging through him. But he knew there was still more. He had to push himself to the limit, to prove to the others that Volk was right. With a roar that shook the cavern, Grashk''s body expanded again. His third mutation took hold, his form becoming monstrous, his muscles growing to nearly grotesque proportions. His tusks jutted out like massive spears, his arms thick as tree trunks. His transformation was slow, deliberate, as though the very fabric of his being was reshaping itself into something more primal, more powerful. The Orcs watched in stunned silence as Grashk completed his third mutation. His body radiated raw power, his presence dominating the room. He looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists, feeling the overwhelming strength that now flowed through him. Then, without warning, Grashk jumped into the air, soaring high above the ground before landing with a thunderous crash that shook the very earth beneath them. He threw back his head and let out a triumphant roar, his voice echoing through the catacombs. "I DID IT!" Grashk bellowed, pounding his chest with his massive fists. "I DID IT! THREE TIMES!" The other Orcs erupted in cheers, their voices deafening as they celebrated Grashk''s transformation. "GRASHK! GRASHK! GRASHK!" They crowded around him, slapping his massive back, hugging him, shouting his name with admiration and respect. Grashk grinned from ear to ear, flexing his massive arms and letting out another roar of triumph. "I CAN''T BELIEVE IT!" he shouted, his voice booming. "THREE MUTATIONS! I''M A MONSTER!" The celebration seemed to go on forever, the Orcs caught up in the sheer joy of the moment. They had never felt so alive, so powerful. They had never believed that such strength was possible, but now they knew that it was. And they owed it all to Volk. Finally, as the excitement began to die down, Volk raised his hand, signaling for the others to quiet down. "Alright," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Let''s move. We''ve proven our strength today. Now we need to get these crystals back to the clan." The Orcs nodded, one could see their eyes gleaming with pride unlike earlier. They picked up their crystals, their massive forms casting long shadows in the dim light of the catacombs. But this time, as they marched forward, they did so with smiles on their faces, their hearts full of confidence. As they walked, one of the Orcs spoke quietly to another. "I''m glad I followed Volk earlier before entering the boss cave," he muttered, glancing at their leader. "I hesitated at first, but now¡­ Now I see." The other Orc nodded. "Aye. We''ve never had a leader like him." Volk, overhearing them, smirked but said nothing. Instead, he gave them a warning. "Don''t be yes-men," he said, his voice low but firm. "I''m not perfect. And I need warriors who can think for themselves." The Orcs nodded, understanding. They respected Volk not just for his strength, but for his wisdom. They knew that under his leadership, they were destined for greatness. ¡­ Meanwhile, on the other side of the catacombs, the Bloodfang Clan was still locked in battle with the monsters surrounding them. The Orcs who had been defeated were slowly being dragged away into the darkness by the catacomb creatures, their bodies disappearing into the shadows. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Though their ranks were thinning, the Bloodfang Clan fought on. Those who had only transformed into their first Grum-gar mutations were no match for the relentless waves of monsters, but the stronger among them held their ground, with their eyes burning with determination. Behind them, other Orc clans watched, waiting for the battle to end so they could move in. Unlike Volk, who never stood idle, these clans were more cautious, more calculating. They waited for the Bloodfang Clan to either emerge victorious or be wiped out entirely. And as they waited, the ground beneath them began to tremble. Dum! Dum! Dum! Chapter 62: Dreadmaw Clan The tension in the air was thick as the orcs of the Bloodfang Clan and the Ironhide Clan stood frozen, with their eyes wide, slightly shocked. Especially the Ironhide Clan, who had entered the catacombs next to Bloodfang Clan. They could hardly believe what they were seeing. "How in the name of Gruul did the Dreadmaw Clan reach here first?" the leader of the Ironhide Clan muttered under his breath, one could notice his deep voice were barely containing the confusion. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the distant figures of Volk and his orcs, who were trudging steadily through the dark stone corridors, their backs hunched beneath the weight of massive crystals. Behind the leader of the Ironhide Clan, his subordinates stood with their arms crossed, equally bewildered. The blood-red eyes of every orc followed the trail of the Dreadmaw Clan. The sight of those crystals¡ªtheir shimmering surfaces reflecting the dim, flickering torchlight¡ªwas too much to ignore. One of the orcs at the back whispered, "How did they complete the catacombs¡­ that fast?" The Bloodfang Clan orcs were just as stunned. Several of them stood motionless, their tusked jaws slack as they gaped at the impossible sight. Dreadmaw Clan, carrying those crystals, had completed the dungeon first. Even worse, the one leading the Dreadmaw Clan was Volk. The massive orc walked with his usual, almost casual swagger, despite the exhaustion hidden behind his heavy gait. The realization hit the Bloodfang orcs like a slap to the face. "The Dreadmaw Clan finished it?!" "Them? Volk''s tribe?" one of the Bloodfang orcs muttered, disbelief etched on his face. He glanced at his comrades, who were equally dumbfounded. Volk, leading his clan with the immense crystals strapped to their backs, wasn''t in any hurry. They had completed the dungeon, but his mind was on what would happen next. He knew there were eyes on them, watching, calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Bloodfang''s warriors were whispering amongst themselves, looking more and more tempted by the second. If Volk had heard what they were saying, he would''ve been livid. "Fast? "What fast?" He would have scoffed inwardly. They had fought a warlock¡ªa being far beyond what any of these orcs could comprehend. They had struggled, bled, and barely made it out alive. But of course, the other clans knew nothing of that. Ignorance bred arrogance. Volk''s walk was interrupted when one of the orcs, in his Grum-gar form from his own clan stepped forward, his massive figure even casting a long shadow across the cavern floor. "Leader," the Grum-gar said, his deep voice rumbling. "Let me carry your crystal." Volk stopped in his tracks, considering the offer. He glanced at the heavy crystal he''d been hauling across his back. His body ached from the weight, but his pride was far greater than his pain. Still, he wasn''t stupid. He knew when to conserve his strength. "Okay," Volk said, his tone gruff but accepting. He unhooked the straps of the crystal from his shoulders and handed it over to the Grum-gar orc, who took it without hesitation. His mutated muscles bulged as he heaved the crystal onto his own back with a thud. The exchange was brief, but in that moment, Volk''s eyes met the gaze of the Bloodfang orcs. He could see them watching, eyes narrowing, whispering to one another. They weren''t just curious¡ªthey were calculating. Volk could feel the tension rising. The question hung in the air: "Would the Bloodfang Clan make a move?" He and his Dreadmaw Can was prepared for it. Volk''s lips twisted into a smirk as he continued walking, eyes still locked onto the Bloodfang warriors. Every step he took was slow and deliberate, as if daring them to challenge him. As the Dreadmaw Clan marched past, the leader of the Bloodfang Clan stepped forward, his strides confident, almost swaggering. Volk could see it in his posture¡ªthe arrogance, the self-assuredness. The leader of the Bloodfang Clan wore a smug grin as he approached. Volk''s smirk widened. ''Here we go,'' he thought. ''They''re coming.'' The Bloodfang leader''s laughter echoed through the cavern, deep and mocking. "Congratulations, Volk," he called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you and your boys managed to get your hands on some crystals... easily." Volk didn''t miss a beat. "Naturally," he responded with a matching tone, his smirk never leaving his face. "We''d be fools if we couldn''t." His voice was laced with mockery. Then, without hesitation, he cut straight to the point, his eyes gleaming with challenge. "Do you plan on stealing them?" The Bloodfang leader''s expression shifted slightly. He stopped a few feet away from Volk, still smiling but now with a hint of something darker beneath it. "Stealing?" the Bloodfang leader repeated, raising an eyebrow as though the idea was absurd. Then, he shook his head and began speaking, his voice rising as he addressed not just Volk, but everyone within earshot. "It''s always been known that it is forbidden to interfere with the business of other clans," he began, his tone turning righteous. "Whether they''re in need of help or not. To do so is seen as a challenge to their strength and their honor. In the catacombs, every clan must fight its own battles." The Bloodfang leader''s voice grew louder, and the other orcs began to listen more intently, his words gaining weight with each passing second. "But you!!!!! aaaall interfered. You disrupted the balance," he continued, his eyes now hard, focusing on Volk. "For us, it is an insult. A sign that you think we are too weak to handle our own affairs. And in our world, an insult like that is answered with blood." The silence that followed was palpable. Every orc in the cavern¡ªwhether Bloodfang, Dreadmaw, or Ironhide¡ªstood still, absorbing the weight of the words. The Ironhide Clan orcs, who had been standing at the edge of the scene, were wide-eyed with surprise. They hadn''t expected this. They knew the Dreadmaw Clan had entered the catacombs last, so how had things escalated so quickly? As for the Bloodfang leader, his confidence only grew. He was sure of his assessment. Volk''s clan had to be hiding something. The Dreadmaw orcs, despite their bravado, had clearly fought something fierce. The more confident they seemed, the more the Bloodfang leader believed they were masking their injuries. But as the Bloodfang leader continued his speech, Volk''s eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something far beyond the other orcs'' comprehension. He was reading the room, assessing every glance, every nervous twitch of the Bloodfang warriors. He knew what they were thinking. And that''s why, instead of being scared or defensive, he did something unexpected. He let out a low chuckle, loud enough to silence the murmurs around him. Then, with a swift movement, Volk''s hands dropped the straps of the crystals from his shoulders, letting them fall to the ground with a resounding thud! One by one, the other orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan did the same. The crystals hit the stone floor in unison, echoing through the cavern like the beating of war drums. The Bloodfang leader''s eyes widened in surprise. His confident smirk faltered for just a moment as he saw the Dreadmaw orcs, bruised and battered, now dropping their burdens and standing tall, their chests heaving with the thrill of battle. They were no longer hiding anything. Instead, they were baring their teeth, ready for whatever came next. Volk grinned, his eyes glinting with savage excitement. He raised his fist and bellowed, his voice booming through the chamber with raw energy. "FINALLY!" The rest of the Dreadmaw orcs roared in unison, with their voices filled with unbridled aggression. In their feet, they could feel the sound of the ground reverberated off the walls, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. They wanted this. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The battle, it seemed, was about to begin. Chapter 63: Go back fast 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¡ªdesire. 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¡ªno, not something¡ªdark 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¡ªespecially the witches¡ªdon''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¡ªfor 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¡ªmany more¡ªcoming 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. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 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. Chapter 64: Preparation for Migration The scene was a blur of frantic movement and hushed, fearful whispers as the orc clans emerged from the catacombs. It was as if the weight of the Warlock''s dark presence still clung to them, heavy and oppressive. Even the sight of the massive crystal Volk carried on his back went ignored. Normally, such a prize would have been cause for wild celebrations, for the Dreadmaw to boast and taunt their rivals. But not today. Today, there was no victory in the air¡ªonly fear. The Bloodfang and Ironhide clans were already dispersing, their leaders speaking in hurried tones, organizing their own plans. The Dreadmaw clan did the same. There was no time to waste. Their victory over another orc tribe paled in comparison to the larger, more terrifying reality: a Warlock had appeared in the Catacomb. That meant only one thing¡ªdanger, and lots of it. As soon as they returned to their clan, an announcement echoed through the village. Every orc and even the few Elves who lived among the Dreadmaw froze at the sound of the loud, commanding voice of Grella, the clan''s elder. She was a fierce and revered figure, her words carrying the weight of wisdom and experience. When she spoke, the entire clan listened. "Tomorrow," Grella''s voice boomed through the village, reverberating off the wooden huts and stone walls, "we leave this place. The appearance of the Warlock in the Catacomb signals the coming of a dark time, one that cannot be met with steel alone. We must flee!" The murmurs of fear spread through the gathered orcs like wildfire. Grella continued, her voice a thunderous roar that silenced even the bravest warriors. "Do you understand what this means? Warlocks are not mere enemies! They are harbingers of destruction, forces of darkness that even the mightiest of orc clans cannot withstand. Their magic is ancient, their power limitless! And where there is one, more will follow!" Orcs shifted nervously, one could see their large bodies trembling under the weight of Grella''s words. Even the strongest among them, warriors who had never flinched in the face of battle, now glanced uneasily at each other. The Dreadmaw, known for their ferocity in hunting, were visibly shaken as they looked at the forest in fear. The Elves, though fewer in number, had paled, with their faces tight with concern. "The Warlock we encountered was a warning," Grella''s eyes swept over the crowd, her face etched with grim determination. "A warning that this land will soon be overrun. We cannot fight them all. Warlocks bring with them an army¡ªand horrors that have no name in our tongue. Their numbers will drown us! Their magic will tear the sky and burn the earth! If we stay, we will be slaughtered!" Her words struck a deep chord in every orc present. They were born for battle, yes. But even the bravest warrior knew when a battle could not be won. And this was one such battle. Grella''s voice softened for a moment, but the urgency in her tone did not waver. "We must migrate. We must leave this land and find new territory, far from the reach of the Warlocks and their dark minions. It is the only way to survive. Prepare yourselves tonight. For tomorrow, we march." The crowd remained silent, the weight of the elder''s words sinking deep into their bones. Even the rowdiest orcs, those who usually revealed the idea of war, knew that this was different. This was no ordinary enemy. This was survival. As the crowd dispersed, Volk made his way back to his tent. His steps were heavy, his mind racing with everything that had happened. He had slain the Warlock, but at what cost? His clan was now on the brink of leaving their home, driven out by the specter of an even greater enemy. Just as he reached the entrance to his tent, a figure stepped out of the shadows. It was Solluha''r, her slender frame outlined by the dim light of the torches around them. Her eyes, usually sharp and observant, were now filled with worry. "Volk," she breathed, her voice a mix of relief and anxiety. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest as if to make sure he was real. "Did you really meet a Warlock?" Volk gave a small nod. "Yes." Solluha''r''s breath hitched. "And¡­ you defeated it?" Her tone was incredulous, almost disbelieving. The fear of Warlocks ran deep in all the clans, and the idea that one could be defeated by a mere orc was something that bordered on legend. Volk smirked, leaning against the wooden beam of the tent. "Defeated?" He puffed out his chest proudly. "I stomped that Warlock thoroughly. Crushed him under my foot like a bug." Solluha''r raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk forming on her lips. "You? Just like that?" Volk crossed his arms, his voice growing more boastful by the second. "You should''ve seen it, Solluha''r. First, he tried to throw his dark magic at me, but I dodged it, like I was swatting a fly. Then he conjured some kind of shadow beast, and I tore through that too. His face was priceless when he realized he was no match for me." Solluha''r chuckled softly, the tension leaving her body as she listened to his exaggerated tale. "Is that so?" "Oh, that''s not even the best part," Volk continued, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I grabbed him by the neck, lifted him off the ground, and threw him into the wall. He tried to beg for mercy, but I wasn''t having it. One more punch, and the Warlock was nothing but a pile of bones at my feet." Solluha''r laughed, the sound melodic and filled with relief. She stepped closer to Volk, resting her forehead against his chest. "You''re impossible," she muttered, savoring the feel of his strong form beneath her hands. For a moment, the tension of the day melted away as Solluha''r stood there, her body pressed against Volk''s. They were alone, just the two of them, in the quiet of the night. But then, her eyes caught something behind him. Something large and shining. The massive crystal. Her eyes widened as she pulled back slightly, looking up at him with astonishment. "Is that¡­ Did you complete the dungeon?" Volk grinned down at her, his pride evident. "I did." Solluha''r''s hands traced over the edges of the crystal, marveling at its size and the power it radiated. She turned back to Volk, her eyes filled with admiration and something more. "You truly are incredible," she whispered, her voice low and breathy. Her hand slid up to his chest again, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. "We''ll need this tomorrow, won''t we?" Volk nodded, though his attention was now focused entirely on her. Solluha''r''s touch was intoxicating, her closeness stirring something primal within him. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, her lips curling into a seductive smile. "Then we should make sure we''re both¡­ ready, shouldn''t we?" sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Her breath was warm against his skin as she leaned in, pressing her body against his. Her lips brushed his chest, sending a shiver down Volk''s spine. "We''ll need all the energy we can get¡­ for tomorrow." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as Solluha''r''s lips found him, their kiss deep and hungry. The world outside seemed to fade away as they stumbled into the tent, their bodies tangling together in the dim light. Chapter 65: Betrayal 1/2 The night air was thick with the lingering smell of smoke and sweat as Lhum''Baggar hurried through the dimly lit pathways of the Dreadmaw Clan''s encampment. His heart raced with excitement, with a wide grin splitting his rough, scarred scary face. He had done it¡ªhe had mutated his Grum-gar form into the third phase. The power still coursed through him, his muscles thrumming with the memory of that transformation. All he wanted now was to share the news with his wife, to see the pride in her eyes when she heard. As he neared the familiar outline of their tent, a voice suddenly cut through the night, freezing him in his tracks. "Older Brother¡­" The voice was familiar, too familiar. Lhum''Baggar''s grin faltered, his body stiffening as recognition washed over him. He knew that voice all too well, and with it came memories¡ªbitter, frustrating memories. Without turning, Lhum''Baggar spoke into the dark, his voice low and measured. "Luk''Tar, what do you want?" A shadow shifted in the distance, moving closer, and the atmosphere around Lhum''Baggar seemed to darken. His younger brother stepped into view, his face barely visible in the flickering torchlight. There was something off about him, something dangerous in the way he moved, in the way his eyes gleamed with barely suppressed fury. "You know what I want," Luk''Tar growled, his voice dripping with malice. "But depending on your mood, you didn''t! You could''ve killed him, brother. You could''ve killed that laborer orc¡ªVolk. But you didn''t." Lhum''Baggar clenched his fists, with his teeth grinding together. He had known this was coming, sooner or later. He turned slowly, locking eyes with Luk''Tar. "I didn''t kill him because I lost to him. Fair and square, just like I told you. You need to move on, Luk''Tar. He beat you in battle too. You stole his kill, and he still bested you. It''s over." Luk''Tar''s face twisted with rage, his lips curling back to reveal his tusks. His eyes burned with a hatred that was almost palpable. "Move on? MOVE ON?" His voice rose, echoing through the quiet night like a snarl. "That laborer orc¡ªhe''s taken everything from me! Everything! First, he steals my kill, and now he''s taken my place, my pride! And you, my own brother, you''ve turned your back on me for him!" Lhum''Baggar frowned, his brow furrowing as he watched his brother with growing concern. There was something wrong, something deeply wrong with Luk''Tar. The rage in his voice wasn''t the usual frustration or jealousy¡ªit was deeper, darker, almost unhinged. "What are you talking about, Luk''Tar?" Lhum''Baggar asked, his voice softening. "Volk didn''t take anything from you. You lost that fight because you weren''t ready. You''ve been chasing after that woman instead of training, and it''s showing. You''re angry, I get it, but this¡­this isn''t you." Luk''Tar''s face contorted further, his eyes blazing with fury as he stalked closer. "Not me? NOT ME? That''s rich, coming from you! He''s stolen everything, Lhum''Baggar! Everything! First my kill, then my woman, and now¡­you. My own brother sounds like he''s under Volk''s command. A laborer orc! He''s nothing! And you¡­you defend him!" Lhum''Baggar''s patience snapped, his voice rising in anger. "Enough!" His massive hand lashed out, grabbing Luk''Tar by the arm and yanking him closer. "You think this is Volk''s fault? You think you''ve lost everything because of him? No, Luk''Tar. You lost because you''ve been lazy. You haven''t trained, you haven''t fought for anything, you''ve been chasing after that woman like a dog while the rest of us were becoming stronger!" Luk''Tar tried to pull away, but Lhum''Baggar''s grip was like iron, holding him in place. His brother''s words hit him hard, but instead of retreating, Luk''Tar''s anger only flared hotter. His eyes flashed, his chest heaving as he snarled back at Lhum''Baggar. "So it''s my fault now, is it? Always my fault! You''ve always blamed me for everything, haven''t you? When I was younger, it was ''Luk''Tar, why aren''t you training harder?'' ''Luk''Tar, why aren''t you as strong as Lhum''Baggar?'' "Well, guess what, brother? I''m tired of it. Tired of living in your shadow, tired of being compared to you, and now tired of hearing you side with that damned Volk!" Lhum''Baggar released Luk''Tar, shoving him back with a force that sent his younger brother stumbling. His own anger boiled over, and his voice thundered through the camp. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You think this is about me? You think I care about being compared to you? No, Luk''Tar, this is about you! You''ve been chasing after things that don''t matter¡ªwomen, glory, whatever you think will make you important. But you''ve forgotten what it means to be an orc of the Dreadmaw Clan! Strength, honor, battle! You''ve forgotten all of it!" Lhum''Baggar''s chest heaved as he glared at his brother, his voice filled with disappointment. "You lost to Volk because you weren''t ready. You let your jealousy, your laziness get in the way of what really matters. And now, you''re standing here, whining like a child because you didn''t get what you wanted. "Well, guess what, Luk''Tar? That''s not how our clan works. You want something? You fight for it. Do you want respect? You earn it. Volk did, and that''s why he''s stronger than you." Luk''Tar stood there, chest rising and falling rapidly as he glared at his brother, his eyes wild with rage. For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a blade. Then, suddenly, Luk''Tar''s face changed. His rage seemed to drain away, replaced by something colder, more calculating. His lips curled into a cruel smile as he took a step back, his hands held up in mock surrender. "Fine, brother. Fine." His voice was low now, almost calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made Lhum''Baggar''s skin crawl. "You''re right. Maybe I have been too focused on things that don''t matter. Maybe I haven''t been training hard enough. But if that''s the case, I want to show you something." Lhum''Baggar narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the sudden change in his brother''s demeanor. "What are you talking about?" Luk''Tar''s grin widened, a twisted, unsettling smile that made Lhum''Baggar''s stomach churn. "Come with me, brother. I want you to meet someone." Lhum''Baggar hesitated, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. But curiosity and concern for his brother won out. "Meet someone? Who?" Luk''Tar''s smile didn''t falter as he turned and began walking away, his voice floating back over his shoulder. "Someone who can help me. Someone who can help us both." Lhum''Baggar felt a cold knot of dread form in his stomach as he watched his brother disappear into the shadows. He took a deep breath, his mind racing. Something was very wrong, and he couldn''t shake the feeling that whatever Luk''Tar was about to show him, it wasn''t good. Without another word, Lhum''Baggar followed his brother into the darkness, his heart pounding in his chest. As they walked, Luk''Tar''s voice floated back to him, cold and almost mocking. "I wonder what your wife will think of this¡­" Lhum''Baggar''s blood ran cold, his eyes widening in shock. "My wife?" he whispered, his heart skipping a beat. What was his brother planning? The night seemed to close in around him as Lhum''Baggar quickened his pace, his mind racing with dark thoughts. Chapter 66: Betrayal 2/2 Lhum''Baggar sprinted through the darkened pathways of the Dreadmaw Clan''s settlement, he could feel his heart thundering in his chest as his brother mentioned his wife. There was a storm of emotions swirling inside him. His feet barely touched the ground as he rushed toward his home, his mind racing with confusion and anger after the unsettling encounter with his brother, Luk''Tar. The knot of dread that had been forming in his stomach tightened with each passing second. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. As he reached the entrance to his tent, the sight before him sent a shockwave through his entire body. His wife, the love of his life, was there, but she was tied to a thick wooden post, her arms bound tightly with ropes. Bruises marred her usually flawless skin, her face twisted in pain and humiliation. But it wasn''t just the bruises that caused Lhum''Baggar to stagger back in horror. "Lhum''Ba¡­" she tried to utter his name. Lhum''Baggar was heartbroken, his eyes traveled down her body, and what he saw shattered his soul. Between her legs, the delicate protective scales that only she could close¡ªscales that once symbolized their bond, their unity¡ªhad been pried apart. An orc and elf''s bond was sacred; once formed, the elf could choose to seal her most intimate parts, ensuring that no other could touch her. Now, those scales were forcibly opened, ripped apart, and something vile, something unspeakable, was leaking from her. Lhum''Baggar''s breath caught in his throat. He took a step back, his mind unable to fully process what was in front of him. His eyes widened, his hands trembled uncontrollably, and his legs threatened to give out beneath him. "No...no...this can''t be happening..." His voice was barely a whisper, choked with disbelief. The reality was too monstrous to comprehend. His mind screamed at him to move, to untie her, to do anything, but he was paralyzed, frozen by the sheer horror. His wife''s whimpers of pain and her broken gaze tore through him like a thousand knives. Suddenly, a cold, mocking laugh filled the air, shattering the silence like glass. "Riririririri..." The voice was unmistakable, and it made Lhum''Baggar''s blood run cold. "I didn''t think you''d find her so soon, older brother. I was just getting started." Lhum''Baggar spun around, his eyes locking onto the shadowy figure standing at the edge of the room¡ªLuk''Tar. His younger brother stood there, a twisted grin plastered across his face, his eyes gleaming with sickening satisfaction. "You...you son of a bitch!" Lhum''Baggar roared, his voice booming through the tent as rage exploded inside him. His entire body shook with fury, his fists clenching so hard that his knuckles turned white. Luk''Tar took a step forward, his smile widening as he continued to mock. "I was going to pay a visit to Solluha''r first, you know, but her place was too well-guarded. So, I thought...why not visit your wife instead? And, brother, you never told me she was such a gem! She''s even tastier than I imagined." He licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with perverse delight. That was the final straw. Lhum''Baggar''s world turned red with fury. He let out a primal roar that shook the very ground beneath them. Without thinking, he lunged at Luk''Tar, his fists swinging wildly. "You filthy bastard! I''ll kill you! I''ll rip you apart!" Lhum''Baggar''s first punch connected with Luk''Tar''s jaw with a sickening CRACK, sending him flying across the room. But Luk''Tar only laughed¡ªa crazed, maniacal laugh that echoed through the tent, RIRIRIRIRIRIIRIII! fueling Lhum''Baggar''s rage even more. With a speed fueled by pure hatred, Lhum''Baggar closed the distance between them and continued his assault. His fists hammered down on Luk''Tar, one after another. BAM! BAM! BAM! Left, right, left, right¡ªpunches rained down like a relentless storm. Each strike was a thunderous blow, one could hear the sound of bone crunching and flesh tearing filling the air in the dead of the night. "Is this what you wanted!?" Lhum''Baggar bellowed, his voice raw with fury. "You disgusting coward!" But no matter how much he hit Luk''Tar, no matter how much blood spilled from his brother''s broken face, Luk''Tar only laughed harder. His laughter was a twisted, maddening sound, one that made Lhum''Baggar''s skin crawl. "You...think you can kill me?" Luk''Tar spat through bloodied teeth, his voice laced with insanity. "You think...you''re stronger than me? Go ahead...hit me...HIT ME MORE!" Lhum''Baggar''s rage surged to a new height, his body trembling with the intensity of his emotions. He lifted Luk''Tar into the air and slammed him down into the dirt, the force of the impact shaking the ground. "I''ll rip you apart limb by limb, you bastard!" Lhum''Baggar roared, his voice cracking with the strain of his fury. He raised his fist, ready to bring it down on Luk''Tar''s skull, ready to end it, to crush the life out of the monster his brother had become. But just as he was about to strike, Luk''Tar''s hand shot up, grabbing Lhum''Baggar''s wrist with inhuman strength. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lhum''Baggar''s eyes widened in shock as he felt a surge of power radiate from his brother''s grip. With a sickening KABOOM, Luk''Tar unleashed a burst of force, sending Lhum''Baggar flying back through the air. He crashed into the side of the tent, the impact knocking the wind out of him and leaving him gasping for breath. Luk''Tar stood up slowly, wiping the blood from his face with a twisted grin. His eyes glowed with a dark, unnatural energy, and his entire body seemed to pulse with raw power. "You think you can kill me, brother?" Luk''Tar sneered, his voice now laced with a sinister, otherworldly tone. "Let me show you...my true power." Lhum''Baggar struggled to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the figure standing before him. This wasn''t the Luk''Tar he knew. This was something else¡ªsomething far more dangerous. Something far more monstrous. Luk''Tar''s body began to shift and grow, his muscles bulging grotesquely as the dark energy within him surged to the surface. His eyes blazed with a malevolent light, and his twisted grin stretched wider than seemed possible. Lhum''Baggar''s breath came in ragged gasps as he watched in horror. He had never seen anything like this before. Whatever had happened to Luk''Tar, whatever dark power he had tapped into, it had turned him into something...unnatural. "You...you''ve gone mad," Lhum''Baggar whispered, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and terror. "What have you done?" Luk''Tar laughed¡ªa deep, bone-chilling laugh that sent a shiver down Lhum''Baggar''s spine. "I''ve embraced what you and Volk never could. Power. True power. And now, brother...I''ll show you just how weak you really are." With that, Luk''Tar lunged at Lhum''Baggar, his movements a blur of speed and violence. Lhum''Baggar barely had time to react as his brother''s fist slammed into his gut, sending him crashing through the side of the tent and into the dirt outside. Lhum''Baggar coughed up blood, his body wracked with pain as he struggled to push himself to his feet. But before he could fully stand, Luk''Tar was upon him again, his fists a whirlwind of fury as he pummeled Lhum''Baggar into the ground. WHAAAAAMMMM!! "Is this what you wanted, brother?" Luk''Tar snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "Is this what you wanted to see? Your precious honor, your precious strength¡ªit''s nothing compared to real power!" Lhum''Baggar groaned in pain, his vision swimming as the world around him blurred. He could feel his strength slipping away, his body breaking under the relentless assault. But even as the darkness threatened to consume him, one thought burned bright in his mind. He had to stop Luk''Tar. He had to protect the clan. The Dreadmaw Clan! With one last surge of willpower, Lhum''Baggar lashed out, catching Luk''Tar by surprise and throwing him off balance. He staggered to his feet, bloodied and bruised but still standing. Chapter 67: LhumBaggars End Lhum''Baggar breathed heavily, his chest heaving as he stood ready, his eyes locked onto Luk''Tar, who now prowled around him in a predatory circle. The air was thick with tension, every muscle in Lhum''Baggar''s body coiled, anticipating the next strike. But there was something about Luk''Tar''s movements that unsettled him, something dark, almost feral. "I see it in your eyes, brother," Luk''Tar sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "You don''t understand what you''re looking at, do you?" He chuckled darkly, the sound crawling under Lhum''Baggar''s skin like a thousand spiders. Luk''Tar''s form had changed, grown larger, his muscles bulging unnaturally. His skin had taken on a darker hue, his eyes gleaming with an eerie light. He was not just a normal Ogre anymore. He had become something more. Something darker. "I''ll tell you what this is," Luk''Tar continued, circling closer, his steps deliberate, almost mocking. "This... is power. Real power. Power you''ll never know, Lhum''Baggar." He grinned, baring his teeth. "This is the Grum-gar form, Phase Three. A form you''ll never achieve in your pathetic life." Lhum''Baggar''s eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of his twisted brother. "Phase Three?" he growled through clenched teeth. "That''s right," Luk''Tar gloated, raising his arms and flexing the grotesque muscles that rippled beneath his skin. "The ultimate evolution of our kind before the fifth Mag''Durotan. A power reserved only for those who are chosen. You wouldn''t understand it. You''re still fumbling around in Phase One like a child playing with sticks." Lhum''Baggar''s heart pounded with rage. He had worked his entire life to perfect the Grum-gar form, dedicating every ounce of his strength to the tribe, to honor. And here was Luk''Tar, mocking him, claiming to have surpassed him in ways that were unfathomable. "You always thought you were better than me, didn''t you, brother?" Luk''Tar spat, his tone venomous. "Just because you awakened the Grum-gar form before I did. But look at you now! Weak. Pitiful. You couldn''t even protect your own wife!" Lhum''Baggar''s fists clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white. Every word Luk''Tar said stoked the fire of his fury, igniting something deep within him. He could feel it building, the raw power of his Grum-gar form, struggling to break free. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You''re wrong!" Lhum''Baggar shouted, his voice thunderous. "You''re not the only one who can transform!" With a guttural roar, Lhum''Baggar''s body erupted with energy, his muscles expanding, his veins bulging as his skin took on the familiar glow of the Grum-gar form. His transformation was violent, powerful, and within moments, he stood at the same massive height as Luk''Tar. But even with their matching size, Lhum''Baggar had something his brother didn''t¡ªyears of experience and training. Lhum''Baggar''s body glowed with the strength of the 5th Mag''Durotan state, a level far beyond Luk''Tar''s mere 1st. His aura radiated power, and for the first time, Luk''Tar''s sneer faltered. The beatdown that followed was swift and brutal. Lhum''Baggar unleashed his full fury upon his brother, his fists pounding into Luk''Tar''s body with devastating force. Blow after blow rained down, each one fueled by years of suppressed anger and betrayal. Luk''Tar''s earlier bravado quickly turned to panic as he realized he was outmatched. "THIS? POWER? LUK''TAR? Is this the strength you bragged about?" Lhum''Baggar roared, his fists slamming into his brother''s ribs with a sickening crack. Luk''Tar howled in pain, but his crazed laughter still echoed through the night, even as blood poured from his mouth. He tried to fight back, but Lhum''Baggar''s superior strength overwhelmed him. Desperation crept into Luk''Tar''s eyes as he struggled against his elder brother''s relentless assault. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a thunderous BANG. Lhum''Baggar staggered as something massive struck him from behind. The force sent him skidding across the ground, his body slamming into a boulder with bone-jarring impact. Dazed, he looked up, his vision blurry, trying to make sense of what had hit him. And then he saw him. Lak''Ran Durghan, their father, stood tall and imposing, his Grum-gar form even more grotesque than Luk''Tar''s. His skin was darker, almost black, and his eyes¡ªthose once proud and fierce eyes¡ªwere now completely consumed by inky darkness, devoid of any light or soul. "FATHER...?" Lhum''Baggar muttered, struggling to his feet. Lak''Ran stood over him, a massive war hammer gripped in his hand, its head still dripping with Lhum''Baggar''s blood. "Come with us, Lhum''Baggar," Lak''Ran said, his voice a low, commanding growl. There was something off about him, something unnatural, but Lhum''Baggar couldn''t quite place it. His father had always been strict, always been harsh, but this... this was different. Before Lhum''Baggar could respond, a weak, trembling voice reached his ears. "Elf... Dark... Elf..." Lhum''Baggar''s head snapped toward the sound, his heart freezing in his chest. It was his wife, barely able to speak, her voice a faint whisper. Her body was trembling, her once beautiful features now gaunt and pale, as though something had drained the life out of her. And then it clicked¡ªthe dark magic, the strange transformation, the twisted power surrounding both Luk''Tar and their father. Dark Elves. Lhum''Baggar''s blood ran cold. The Dark Elves were predators, hunters of their tribe, just like the Red Elven Warlocks. The Hornless Orcs had long been caught in the middle of the endless war between the two, often falling victim to their insidious plots. And now, they had come for his family. Luk''Tar let out another deranged laugh. "Yes, brother! The Dark Elves! My new master, Lady Shyvria, has shown me true power. She''s given me everything I''ve ever wanted¡ªstrength, more women, and freedom! No more slaving away for the tribe, no more following weaklings like Volk!" He grinned, his madness gleaming in his eyes. "You can join us, Lhum''Baggar. You can have it all! Power beyond your wildest dreams! Just look at father¡ªlook at me! This is what we were meant to become!" Lhum''Baggar''s mind raced as he processed his brother''s words. Dark Elves. Luk''Tar had sold his soul to them, and now they wanted him to do the same. "NO...NO..." Lhum''Baggar muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. But before he could fully react, Luk''Tar moved quickly toward Lhum''Baggar''s wife, his hand gripping a strange vial filled with a glowing black liquid. Luk''Tar forced the vial into her mouth, tipping her head back as the liquid poured down her throat. Lhum''Baggar''s heart leaped into his throat as he watched in horror, unable to move fast enough to stop it. Lak''Ran, standing stoic and uncaring, spoke again. "She will join us, Lhum''Baggar. It''s the only way." "NO!" Lhum''Baggar screamed, lunging forward, but it was too late. His wife''s body began to convulse, her skin darkening, her eyes turning black like Lak''Ran''s. The corruption was spreading through her rapidly, consuming her from the inside out. But even in her final moments, her voice remained defiant. "I... will never betray... my clan¡­ our clan!" she gasped, her voice so weak but resolute. Her eyes locked onto Lhum''Baggar''s, filled with love and sorrow. "I... will always... love you." And then, with a violent explosion of pure hazard, her body disintegrated, leaving nothing but a void where she once stood. The blast sent a shockwave through the air, knocking Lhum''Baggar off his feet. "NO... NO... NOOOO!" Lhum''Baggar''s scream tore through the night, with his grief and rage spilling over in an uncontrollable torrent. His wife was gone. His brother and father had betrayed him. Everything he had ever known, ever loved, had been ripped away from him in the span of minutes. Lak''Ran stared down at the spot where his daughter-in-law had perished, with his expression remaining cold and indifferent as if she was nothing. "Foolish witch," he muttered under his breath. Then, turning his gaze back to Lhum''Baggar, he said, "You''re a disappointment, my son." Lhum''Baggar''s eyes blazed with fury as he slowly rose to his feet, his body shaking with barely contained rage. "ME¡­ KILL YOU¡­ BOOOOTH!!!!" he growled, his voice trembling with emotion. "ME¡­ KILL YOU¡­ BOOOOTH!!!!" The night was silent, save for the crackling of the distant fire, as father and son stared each other down, the rift between them now an unbridgeable chasm of their differences. "So be it," Lak''Ran would mumble. Chapter 68: Among Orcs Volk jolted awake, with his body drenched in heavy sweat. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breathing was ragged as if he''d just fought a battle in his sleep. His hand instinctively reached for his side, grasping at the blankets, his mind swirling with fragmented images of his dream. The sense of impending doom that had washed over him moments ago still lingered like a shadow. Next to him, Solluha''r stirred, her soft voice cutting through the thick fog in his mind. "Hmm? Volk, what''s wrong?" Her hand gently traced the contours of his back, the touch soothing, though her voice carried concern. Volk exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm of thoughts. "I had a bad dream... something bad is going to happen to the tribe." His words came out slower than usual, heavy with a weight he couldn''t quite explain. He rolled over to face Solluha''r, her green eyes catching the moonlight that filtered through the window, reflecting back at him with a sense of curiosity and patience. "A bad dream?" Solluha''r''s brow furrowed as she adjusted herself to sit up next to him. "What did you see?" Volk stared at the ceiling for a long moment, trying to recall the details. "There was fire... destruction. I saw the tribe, running. There was a great shadow over us... something was hunting us. No, not hunting. It was... watching. Waiting." Her gaze didn''t waver as she listened intently, her hand still resting lightly on his arm. "It sounds like a vision of danger. But Volk, dreams are often not what they seem." Volk clenched his fist, the feeling of helplessness gnawing at him. "I know. But this felt different, more than just a dream. It felt like... a warning." Solluha''r moved closer, placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder. "You''ve been through so much these past days. Fighting Zenveil, navigating that catacomb, retrieving that crystal¡­ your mind is exhausted. The burden you''re carrying is heavy." sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk let out a slow breath, his muscles relaxing slightly at her touch. "Maybe you''re right. Maybe it''s just the weight of everything catching up to me." There was a comfortable silence between them for a few moments, the night air cool against their skin. Solluha''r laid her head on Volk''s chest, her breath soft and steady as if trying to share her calm with him. "You always worry about everyone," she said quietly. "Even in your sleep, you can''t let go of that responsibility." "It''s my job," Volk muttered, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. "If I don''t protect them... who will?" Solluha''r tilted her head to look up at him, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "You''re not alone, Volk. You''ve got me, the other Orcs, the Elves. You don''t have to carry this weight by yourself." He smiled faintly, placing his large hand over hers. "You always know what to say." "I just know you," she replied softly, her fingers entwining with his. "And I know how hard you push yourself. But even the strongest need rest. You can''t protect the tribe if you''re worn down." Volk let out a low chuckle, though it didn''t quite reach his eyes. "You make it sound so simple." "It is simple," she said, smiling gently at him. "But that doesn''t mean it''s easy." For a while, they simply lay there, letting the quiet stretch between them. The tension in Volk''s body gradually eased, and the storm in his mind began to settle. Solluha''r''s presence was grounding, like the earth beneath his feet¡ªa reminder that even in the face of overwhelming odds, there was always something solid to hold onto. He exhaled again, feeling a little lighter, and his thoughts turned to his abilities. He glanced at his fist, and with a faint flash in his mind, he heard the familiar ding! of his internal system. | Ding! | 1. Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike: (10) | 2. Nuclear Devastation Wind Strike: (6) | 3. Nuclear Devastation Earth Strike: (10) | 4. Nuclear Devastation Water Strike: (3) | His eyes widened slightly as he focused on the third option. "Has my Earth magic improved?" he muttered aloud. Solluha''r looked up at him, intrigued. "What do you mean?" "The crystal I took from the dungeon... it must''ve done something. My Earth magic... it''s stronger now." He glanced at her, still half-wondering how he had unlocked this improvement. "You said it was a Stone and Earth magic crystal, right?" She nodded, brushing her hair back from her face. "Yes, exactly. Since you don''t have any natural affinity for Stone magic, the crystal must have channeled its energy directly into your Earth magic." Volk flexed his fingers, the power humming through him, raw and unyielding. "Makes sense. I feel... like I can move mountains with this." "You probably can," Solluha''r teased, smiling at him. "But you''ll need all that strength tomorrow. Today, we should focus on resting. There''s no telling what the migration will bring." Just as they settled back into the comfort of each other''s presence, a loud trumpet blast tore through the air. The sound was jarring, high-pitched, and urgent. Zeeeeeeeeeeenng! Volk shot up from the bed, his instincts kicking in immediately. Solluha''r followed, both of them now fully alert. "That''s the signal," Volk muttered, grabbing his nearby gear. Another sound followed, a booming male Orc voice resonating through the village. "All Orcs, assemble! Prepare your necessities first!" Volk and Solluha''r exchanged a quick glance. Without wasting any time, they scrambled to gather what they needed for the journey. A second voice followed shortly after, this one was feminine, smooth yet commanding. "Elves, prepare and assemble!" The commanding tone cut through the early dawn, signaling that the time had come. Solluha''r pulled on her traveling garb, her movements fast but precise. "It''s time," Volk said, nodding toward her. His gaze shifted toward the small bundle of supplies he had hastily thrown together. They didn''t need much, just the essentials. There would be no looking back once they left. They both stood in silence for a moment, then Solluha''r gave him a quick smile. "We''ve got this," she said, her voice filled with confidence that Volk desperately needed to hear. Outside, the Orcs and Elves were already gathering, the heavy atmosphere thick with the weight of the unknown. One by one, they emerged from their tower homes, their faces grim as they prepared to leave behind the place they had called home for so long. The air felt different, heavier, as though the land itself mourned their departure. Volk and Solluha''r joined the line of Orcs, standing shoulder to shoulder with their comrades. The somberness of the moment washed over their presence like a wave of mournful mist, the realization that this might be the last time they stood on their homeland pressing down on their chest. Volk''s hand tightened into a fist, his eyes scanning the crowd. There was something else here, a hidden danger lurking just beyond their sight. As they moved slowly toward the gathering point, a familiar ding! echoed in his mind once again. | Ding! | Mission: Find at least one of the traitors. | Rewards: High-level Boxing. | Failure: Nuclear Devastation Earth Strike will be lost. | Volk''s eyes widened, with his heart immediately skipping a beat. Traitors? For real? There were traitors among them, and he had no idea who they could be. Chapter 69: Missing Orc: LhumBaggar Volk stood still amidst the crowd of Orcs and Elves, with his hand hovering over his chest as his heart raced with uncertainty. The mission that had just appeared in his mind, the cold, mechanical voice of his system, echoed again: | Find at least one of the traitors. | Those words in the mission felt like it was latching on him. The tribe was preparing to march, and yet there was a traitor among them. Volk closed his eyes, trying to center himself in his head, his mind began to think carefully and to make sense of it all. Where should he start? Who could it be? He knew this wasn''t some random challenge. The system never gave him missions unless they were tied to events directly involving him. The enemy had to be someone he had already encountered. ''It had to be,'' he reasoned, trying to calm the rising panic in his chest. Volk had long learned that his system didn''t simply give vague commands. It activated in response to situations where he was directly involved. If the mission asked him to find a traitor, it meant the traitor was someone in his immediate sphere¡ªsomeone he had met, fought with, or even shared a conversation with. Volk drew a slow breath, organizing his thoughts as he began to recall every face, every interaction he''d had over the past few weeks. ''Who who who?'' he asked himself. This wasn''t just a casual challenge; it was personal. He thought back to Grak''thor, the butcher. The image of Grak''thor loomed large in his mind, his massive form draped in furs, his hands stained red from the day''s work. Grak''thor said he had arrived from a tribe that had been destroyed, claiming to have been the sole survivor of a brutal assault. Volk remembered how the butcher explained how had he integrated into the Dreadmaw Clan, offering his skills in exchange for a place among them. But something about Grak''thor''s story always seemed... incomplete. ''Why did I think of him first?'' Volk asked himself, his thoughts were in circles. There was something about his arrival that had struck him as odd. Grak''thor had come from nowhere, just as the Dreadmaw Clan was beginning to consolidate its power. He had stories of his tribe being slaughtered by raiders, of escaping by the skin of his teeth. But Volk had learned long ago that anyone who survived such devastation either came back broken or filled with a thirst for vengeance. Grak''thor seemed... indifferent, too quick to blend into the everyday life of the clan, as though the destruction of his former people was of little concern. But then, Volk shook his head. No, he thought, G Grak''thor saved Grok''Thar''s mother, didn''t he? He vividly recalled Grok''Thar''s tale, recounting how Grak''thor had risked his life to save her from a pack of wild beasts, earning the clan''s respect. In fact, Grak''thor had even honored Volk by giving him a magical crystal in exchange for one of the finest pieces of meat. That didn''t seem like the act of a traitor. Volk bit his lip, his brow furrowing deeper as he moved on to the next name in his mind: Gozorm''al, one of the elders. He remembered his duel with the old Orc, a contest of strength and pride that ended in Gozorm''al''s defeat. The elder had underestimated Volk, thinking his youth would betray him, but Volk had proven his might. At the time, Gozorm''al had offered him a token of respect: bone armor, a prized possession handed down from his ancestors. It was a sign of honor, something a traitor would never offer. Volk shook his head again, casting the suspicion away. Gozorm''al wasn''t the type to betray his kin. The old Orc had lived through countless battles and had no reason to seek the tribe''s downfall. If anything, he was committed to seeing the Dreadmaw Clan thrive, even if it meant stepping aside for the younger generation. Volk''s frustration grew as he ran through the list of Orcs in his mind. Each one had a story, a reason why they couldn''t be the traitor. He had fought and spent time alongside them, shared food with them. Who would betray them? Suddenly, his eyes widened as he remembered someone he hadn''t thought of in all this time. His gaze drifted to the axe strapped to his side¡ªthe axe given to him by Lhum''Baggar after their duel. Where was Lhum''Baggar? Volk frowned. He had seen Grok''Thar, Grashk, and many of the others since the preparations for the migration had begun. But Lhum''Baggar? He hadn''t seen him or his elven wife since yesterday. The longer he thought about it, the more troubling it became. Lhum''Baggar was not the type to simply disappear. He was proud, strong, and well respected in the clan. He wouldn''t vanish without reason. "Where is Lhum''Baggar?" Volk muttered under his breath. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. Why hadn''t he thought of it before? Lhum''Baggar was always involved in clan matters. It made no sense for him to be absent during such an important event. Volk''s thoughts began to spiral. Could it be? The pieces were slowly falling into place. The axe Lhum''Baggar had given him¡ªit had always felt heavier than it should. Something about the weapon felt... off, as if it carried a secret of its own. And now, with the mission ringing in his ears, Volk couldn''t shake the growing suspicion that Lhum''Baggar''s disappearance was tied to the traitor''s identity. His heart pounded faster, and his grip tightened on the handle of the axe. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. There was no proof, not yet. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Lhum''Baggar was gone. Was he hiding something? Or worse¡ªhad he betrayed them all? As Volk''s mind raced, a sudden sound broke through the heavy silence. "Dreadmaw Clan, MAAARRCCHHH!!!" The booming command reverberated through the air, shaking Volk out of his thoughts. The rest of the tribe began to stir, their movements quick and deliberate as they prepared to move. The urgency in the air was palpable, as if the entire clan could sense that this migration wasn''t just a simple journey¡ªit was an escape. They were leaving something behind, something dangerous. Volk stood frozen in place as the others began to fall in line. His thoughts still circled around Lhum''Baggar, the axe, the mission. It all pointed in the same direction, but it felt incomplete, like a half-finished puzzle with the final piece just out of reach. He looked down at the axe again, his fingers tracing its cold, metal surface. There was something here, something related to Lhum''Baggar. Volk''s instincts screamed at him to act, to stop everything, to demand answers. But hesitation was eating his head. What if he was wrong? What if Lhum''Baggar was innocent? But what if he wasn''t? As the tribe prepared to march, Volk''s heart hammered in his chest, every second became heavy. He could feel it now, the pulse of danger running through the air, the eyes of the traitor watching from the shadows. With every passing moment, the sense of urgency grew, until it threatened to crush his soul. Finally, Volk couldn''t take it anymore. The pressure built to a boiling point, and before he knew it, he was shouting at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing across the camp. "WAAAAIIIIIIIIIIITTTTT!!!!!!!" Chapter 70: Found one Volk''s voice echoed again, desperation lacing his words as he screamed, "WAIIIIIIITTTTT!" His throat felt raw, and his breath came in harsh gasps, hoping to catch their attention, but his pleas were drowned out by the sounds of the marching Orcs and Elves. The clan was on the move, and no one paid him any mind, no one seemed to care about his shout. Beside him, Solluha''r, her brow furrowed in concern, reached out to grip her husband''s arm. "Volk, what''s going on?" she asked, her voice low yet insistent. Her violet eyes searched his face, seeing the turmoil written across it. "There''s a traitor," Volk muttered, almost to himself, the weight of the accusation pressing down on his chest. His heart thudded heavily against his ribcage. Solluha''r''s sharp ears picked up his words instantly, and she stiffened. "A traitor?" she repeated, shocked. Her mind raced. "How do you know this?" she pressed, pulling him to the side of the moving line, her tone urgent. Volk hesitated. He couldn''t just blurt out that his system had delivered this message. It wasn''t something anyone could easily understand¡ªhis abilities were still mysterious even to him. "I can''t explain," he said at last, shaking his head. "But I know it''s true. Someone in the tribe is working against us." Solluha''r narrowed her eyes, her agile mind whirring as she took in his words. She trusted Volk¡ªmore than anyone. But this was a dangerous claim. "Who do you think it is?" she asked carefully, her voice steady despite the rising tension. Volk swallowed hard, glancing around at the marching Orcs and Elves, some of whom shot curious glances in their direction. "Lhum''Baggar. It''s connected to him somehow." "Lhum''Baggar?" Solluha''r echoed, her eyes flashing with alarm. She bit her lip, thinking. "But where is he? I haven''t seen him or his wife since you told me about the catacombs yesterday." Her voice trailed off as the realization hit her, her sharp mind piecing things together faster than Volk could. "Wait... don''t tell me..." Her eyes grew wide, and she whispered, "Luk''Tar?" Volk''s eyes snapped to hers, and a cold chill ran down his spine. How had he not thought of Luk''Tar? His mind replayed the confrontations he had against Lhum''Baggar''s younger brother, Luk''Tar. The hate on his face when Volk stole Solluha''r from him. The tension between them had always simmered, but now... now, he could feel something far darker seemed to be at play. Could Luk''Tar be involved? Before he could respond, a presence approached from behind. The faint sound of footsteps stopped near them, and a feminine voice, tinged with authority, cut through the air. "Why are you screaming ''wait'' for?" the voice asked, calm but with a quiet force that demanded an answer. Volk and Solluha''r turned simultaneously to face the newcomer. A tall, elegant Elf stood before them. She was strikingly beautiful, her golden hair flowing down her back in intricate braids, her pale skin radiant in the moonlight. But there was more than beauty to this woman¡ªthere was power. She held herself with the commanding presence of someone used to being obeyed. Her amber eyes gleamed with curiosity as she studied Volk. Her scent hit them next, a subtle mixture of floral oils and something... ancient, something that made Volk immediately aware that she wasn''t just any Elf. This was someone with status, someone the older members of the Dreadmaw Clan probably knew well. "Well?" the Elf said again, her voice even, but the hint of amusement in her tone irritated Volk. "Why are you causing such a disturbance when we are in the middle of marching? Or are you unaware that we are trying to flee from Warlocks?" Her smile was thin and sharp, like the edge of a blade. Volk opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. He didn''t know how to explain it¡ªhow to accuse one of their own in front of someone so imposing. But Solluha''r gave him a subtle nod, encouraging him to speak. He had no choice. If he stayed silent now, the traitor could or might escape. With hesitation, Volk finally answered, his voice low but firm, "I... I can feel it. There''s a traitor among us." The Elf raised one perfect brow, then laughed lightly, though it lacked warmth. "A traitor? Now? You choose now to make such a claim?" Her amber eyes sparkled with amusement as if Volk had just told her a joke. "We''re fleeing from the Red Warlocks, Orc. Do you think this is the time to start accusing your own?" Her smile vanished, and her eyes sharpened. "Tell me, who do you believe is the traitor? I''m curious." Volk hesitated again, glancing at Solluha''r for reassurance before he finally said, "Lhum''Baggar. It''s connected to him." The Elf''s expression changed instantly. Her playful demeanor evaporated, replaced by a look of cold calculation. "Lhum''Baggar?" she repeated, the name hanging in the air like a dark cloud. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as if processing the information. "What''s his surname?" Volk blinked, his mind racing for the answer. Then, he replied, "Durghan." The moment the name left his lips, the Elf''s reaction was immediate. Her face twisted into shock, her amber eyes wide as she stepped back slightly, processing what Volk had just said. There was a brief silence before she straightened, her face now a mask of grim suspicion. Without warning, the Elf raised her hand, and a stream of shimmering magic particles flowed from her fingertips. The air around them vibrated as her magic coalesced into a sphere of light. Then, her voice, amplified by her magic, boomed across the camp. "HAAAAAALLLTT!!" The power of her voice carried far and wide, stopping the entire march in its tracks. Every Orc, every Elf, every being within the Dreadmaw Clan froze as the command echoed through the night. The Elf''s eyes burned with intensity as she glanced at Volk before shouting again, "Lak''Ran Durghan, you are summoned!" For a moment, silence filled the air, thick with tension. And then, in the distance, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed back in response. Discover magic on m_v_l_e_m_p_y_r The ground trembled slightly as something¡ªsomeone¡ªapproached. Soon, a massive figure stepped forward from the shadows, and Volk''s heart skipped a beat. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lak''Ran Durghan, the father of Lhum''Baggar and Luk''Tar, appeared. His hulking form cast a long shadow, and the air around him seemed to pulse with dark energy. His skin, once the color of a rich, earthen brown, now held a darker hue, almost as if tainted by something unnatural. His eyes¡ªpitch black, void of any emotion¡ªstared out at the crowd, radiating menace. Volk felt his body tense instinctively, sensing the overwhelming magical energy coming from Lak''Ran. It was oppressive, suffocating. Every particle in the air seemed to hum with danger. This was not just any Orc. This was someone who had dabbled in powers far beyond the normal Grum-gar form. His aura felt tainted, corrupted by something... dark. Lak''Ran Durghan''s gaze fell upon Volk, and for a brief moment, the two locked eyes. The oppressive power of the elder Orc washed over Volk, and the realization hit him like a thunderbolt. His voice trembled, but the words spilled out before he could stop them. "You... you are one of the traitors!" Chapter 71: Traitors requiem The crowd of Orcs and Elves around Volk began murmuring, one could see their voices were growing louder and louder, and each was filled with confusion and curiosity. Volk could hear snippets of conversations swirling around him, bits of dialogue that made the tension in the air even thicker. "Did he just say Lak''Ran is a traitor?" "The Labor Orc must be mistaken... Lak''Ran? No way." "But why would he say that? Labor Orcs don''t just throw around accusations." "I thought Lak''Ran was one of the strongest among the Dreadmaw Clan... Why would he betray us?" "Maybe the Labor Orc''s onto something. Labor Orcs are known for their sensitivity to magic. What if he''s right?" Volk''s ears caught every word, every doubt and concern rippling through the ranks of the tribe. He could feel eyes boring into him from all directions, some suspicious, others filled with questions they didn''t dare to ask aloud. Then, a sudden Ding! echoed in his mind, the unmistakable sound of the system''s notification. | Ding! A message flashed before his eyes: | Mission Completed. | You have found one of the traitors. | Rewards received: | High-level Boxing. | ¡ª | Name: Volk Mog''ger | Status: Hornless Orc Tribe Kaz''rogal (Current Year), and the Warlock Slayer. | Age: 18 | Level: Fifth Stage Mag''Durotan | Passive Ability: Radioactive Form (Duration: Nine Minutes) | Normal Abilities: | - Radioactive Absorption. | - Basic Mastery of Axe Handling. | - High-level Boxing. | The words filled Volk''s vision, but along with them came a sense of clarity. The haze that had clouded his mind ever since the march were lifted, leaving him feeling more aware, more focused than ever before. His body tingled with an unknown energy, as if his muscles were now perfectly tuned, ready to unleash powerful strikes. Volk flexed his hand into a fist, feeling the strength surge through his knuckles. He could almost feel himself punching through solid rock without even breaking a sweat. But before he could even revel in his new strength, another Ding! followed almost immediately, bringing with it a new wave of dread. | Ding! S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. | New Mission: Expose all of the traitors with 3 star rating or higher without turning into Grum-gar form. | Traitor: 054. | Rewards: | 5 Star = Grandmaster-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | 4 Star = Master-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | 3 Star = Expert-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | 2 Star = Basic-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | 1 Star = Low-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | Failure: Will be the annihilation of the Dreadmaw Clan. | Volk''s brow furrowed deeply. "What?!" It was like a heavy sledgehammer from heaven. This is heavy! "And Fifty-four?" he muttered under his breath. His mind began to go round and round as he processed the impossible task before him. How could there be so many traitors among the Dreadmaw Clan? His system had never given him such an overwhelming mission, rewards and failure before. Fifty-four traitors¡ªhow was he supposed to find and deal with all of them? As the silence stretched and Volk tried to grasp the weight of his mission, a loud, deep laugh erupted from Lak''Ran. "RUGAGHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The sound was booming, almost shaking the ground beneath Volk''s feet. Lak''Ran doubled over, clutching his belly as his laughter echoed through the air. "RUGAGHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The crowd fell silent, their attention drawn to the imposing figure of Lak''Ran Durghan. "Me? A traitor?" Lak''Ran said, his voice thick with mockery as he wiped a tear from his eye. "Labor Orc, you must have hit your head a little too hard in that last fight. Do you truly believe I would betray the Dreadmaw Clan? The very clan I''ve fought for, bled for, and protected for longer than you''ve been alive?" He shook his head, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "This is the most absurd accusation I''ve ever heard." Volk stood his ground, his muscles tense, watching Lak''Ran''s theatrics. The elder Orc''s laughter was filled with arrogance, and the crowd seemed to be caught between the absurdity of the accusation and the commanding presence of the accused. Lak''Ran smirked as he glanced around at the gathered tribe members. "Volk, you''re nothing more than a Labor Orc. You should have stayed among the ranks of your kind, used as nothing but cannon fodder to distract the Warlocks while the real warriors of the Dreadmaw Clan make their escape." New chapters at m v|le|mp|yr He paused, his tone turning cold and derisive. "You were never meant for anything more than labor and death. So what makes you think you have the right to accuse me¡ªone of the Grum-gar elite¡ªof something as ridiculous as treason?" The crowd was silent now, waiting for Volk''s response. Lak''Ran''s words hung heavy in the air, full of contempt, and Volk could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Lak''Ran stepped forward, his towering form casting a long shadow over Volk. "Tell me, Labor Orc, what proof do you have of this outlandish claim? What evidence could someone like you possibly present to make anyone believe that I, Lak''Ran Durghan, am a traitor?" Volk clenched his fists, with his head working furiously. He knew that this was his moment¡ªhe had to be convincing. He took a deep breath, his voice steady despite the pressure. "I may be a Labor Orc, but we are known for one thing¡ªour sensitivity to hazardous magic particles. And right now, I can sense it all around you." A murmur ran through the crowd. Orcs and Elves exchanged looks, whispering to one another. What Volk had said wasn''t a lie. Labor Orcs were known for their heightened sensitivity to magic, specifically to dangerous, corrupt magic. It was what made them valuable in mines and places where magical residue could poison normal beings. But it was also what made them expendable in war¡ªeasy to sacrifice for being weak. "That''s ridiculous!" Lak''Ran spat, though there was a hint of unease in his voice. "Sensitivity to magic? That''s not enough evidence to accuse me of treason. You think your heightened senses make you some kind of truth-teller?" Volk narrowed his eyes. "It''s not just that. You carry something... something that feels wrong. It''s not just magic. It''s corrupted, tainted. And I''m not the only one who can feel it." This statement caused a stir among the crowd. More murmurs. More shifting. The eyes of many Orcs and Elves flicked toward Lak''Ran, their expressions no longer as certain as they had been just moments ago. Lak''Ran sneered, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Tainted? You think you''re special because you can sense a bit of magic in the air? That''s laughable." He spread his arms wide, as if daring anyone to step forward. "Go ahead! Call every Labor Orc in the camp! Let them all come and tell me if they feel this so-called corruption. But you''ll find nothing. You''re grasping at straws, Volk." Volk stared at him. His face felt hard. He could feel the tension building in the air. This was his moment¡ªif he faltered now, if he hesitated, Lak''Ran would slip through his fingers, and the traitors would continue to poison the tribe from within. He raised his chin, his voice firm and resolute. "Do it. Call them all. Let every Labor Orc who''s awakened the Grum-gar form come and tell us what they sense." The challenge was unexpected. The crowd watched in silence, their breaths held as they waited for Lak''Ran''s response. There was no backing down now. Lak''Ran''s sneer faltered for just a moment before he regained his composure, but the tension between the two Orcs was palpable. The dawn was still, save for the crackling of the nearby fires, casting long shadows over the waiting tribe. Chapter 72: Where is he? As the dawn dragged on and the atmosphere in the cold windy air continued to thicken, a murmur passed through the crowd as someone had gone to fetch the Labor Orcs who had awakened the Grum-gar form. In the stillness that followed, Lak''Ran''s booming voice cut through the quiet. "So, Volk," Lak''Ran began, his tone dripping with mockery, "you accuse me, Lak''Ran Durghan, of being a traitor? You stand here, trembling in your little boots, calling on the Labor Orcs to vouch for you?" He took a step forward, chest puffed out with arrogance. His eyes gleamed as if enjoying the spectacle. "You think I don''t have friends among the Labor Orcs? People who would stand beside me rather than listen to your ridiculous claims?" Lak''Ran paused, grinning as his eyes roved over the gathered crowd. "If I were really a traitor, tell me¡ªwho am I working with? The Warlocks? Oh, that''s rich! Let me guess, little Labor Orc, you believe that I''ve been sneaking around in the shadows, plotting with the Warlocks against our tribe, against our people?" Volk remained silent, his jaw clenched, waiting for Lak''Ran to finish his tirade. The crowd was watching, hanging on every word, their murmurs filling the gaps between Lak''Ran''s speeches. Lak''Ran''s eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "Or is it something else, little Labor Orc? Hmm? Maybe you''re trying to conspire against my son, Luk''Tar. Maybe you''re trying to get him kicked out of the tribe so you can have Solluha''r all to yourself?" The words cut through the air like a blade, and the crowd seemed to draw in a collective breath. Solluha''r stiffened at Volk''s side, with her eyes narrowing as she focused on Lak''Ran''s accusations. Volk felt his blood rising and becoming hot within him, but he kept his mouth shut, unwilling to give Lak''Ran the satisfaction of a reaction. Lak''Ran smirked, noticing Solluha''r''s discomfort. His eyes flicked toward her, and the smirk widened into a full, wicked grin. "Ah, I see her now," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "This is the Labor Orc you''ve chosen, Solluha''r? The one you''ve cast your lot with instead of my son? Can''t you see the deceit in his eyes? Can''t you see the plan he''s hatching? It''s obvious, isn''t it? He''s jealous of Luk''Tar. He wants to be the hero, the savior, and the lover all at once, doesn''t he?" Solluha''r shifted uneasily, her face carefully neutral, but Volk could sense her discomfort growing. Lak''Ran''s voice grew louder as he continued. "Oh, Solluha''r, have you forgotten the promises you made to Luk''Tar? Have you forgotten all those moments you shared with him? The bond, the future, the destiny that you two were supposed to have together?" His grin turned even more malicious, and his tone dripped with false concern. "And now you''ve just¡­ replaced him with this? A deceitful Labor Orc?" Lak''Ran''s eyes glittered as he leaned in closer, his voice becoming even more venomous. "If I were Luk''Tar, I''d have taken your purity long ago, before this traitor could ever lay his filthy hands on you. But here you are, standing by this¡­ this nothing of an Orc. How shameful." Volk''s eyes flared with rage. His fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white. He could see the discomfort growing in Solluha''r, the subtle flinch in her posture, the tension in her jaw. Explore uncharted tales at m-vlem|p-yr Before he could stop himself, Volk growled, with a sharp and extremely commanding voice he would shout, "ENOUGH!" Lak''Ran''s mocking laughter echoed once again, but before he could continue his verbal assault, a voice called out from behind the crowd. "Here is Vulnarran!" someone announced. The crowd parted slightly as a figure approached¡ªa Labor Orc, just like Volk, but there was something off about him. Vulnarran stood tall, his muscles rippling beneath his rough, scarred skin, but unlike most Labor Orcs, a dark aura seemed to cling to him. His eyes, though bright, held a strange shadow, something that made the hairs on the back of Volk''s neck stand on end. Volk''s heart sank. He could feel it¡ªthere was something deeply wrong with Vulnarran. "Look at him," Lak''Ran said, waving a hand toward the approaching Labor Orc. "This is one of my friends, Volk. A Labor Orc, just like you. Are you going to tell me that he''s a traitor, too? I''m sure he could have told anyone if I was a traitor long ago, so what''s you say?" Volk''s gaze fixed on Vulnarran. His head began to spin as he tried to process what he was feeling and what he was seeing in his eyes. The dark aura surrounding Vulnarran was undeniable. The sensation was unmistakable¡ªit was the same corruption he had sensed around Lak''Ran. Suddenly, without thinking, Volk blurted out, "He is also a traitor." A gasp rippled through the crowd, louder this time. The gathered Orcs and Elves looked between Volk, Lak''Ran, and Vulnarran, confusion and alarm evident on their faces. Murmurs began to rise again, louder than before. "What did he say?" "Another traitor?" "Don''t tell me labor Orc is just making things up?" Lak''Ran threw his head back and laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "Volk, what''s your plan here? Are you going to accuse every Orc in this tribe of being a traitor? Are you going to start pointing fingers until no one is left? It''s pathetic." Volk stood firm, though doubt felt was digging at him from within. How could so many traitors exist in the tribe? The number was staggering¡ªfifty-four. It didn''t seem possible. Lak''Ran stepped closer, his face twisted into a sneer. "Why don''t you just return to the Labor Orcs where you belong, little Volk? You seem to be better at digging in the dirt than standing with warriors. Why not take your little accusations and crawl back into the holes we''ve dug for you?" But Volk''s thoughts were racing. Something Lak''Ran said struck a chord deep within him. His breath hitched as the realization crashed over him. His eyes widened as his mind raced through the recent days, the faces of those he had interacted with, and the one glaring absence among them. "Where is Lhum''Baggar?" Volk suddenly asked, his voice low but firm. Lak''Ran''s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to confirm Volk''s suspicions. The crowd, sensing the shift in the air, quieted down, waiting for what was to come next. "Where is Lhum''Baggar?" Volk repeated, his voice louder now, demanding an answer. "He was with us yesterday, in the catacombs. Where is he now?" Lak''Ran''s sneer slowly returned, but there was a new edge to it, something darker, more dangerous. "Lhum''Baggar?" he drawled, his voice thick with condescension. "You think he has something to do with this? Are you going to drag him into this absurd accusation of yours, too?" But Volk wasn''t backing down. His fists clenched, his jaw set, and his eyes burned with determination. "Tell me where he is." The crowd was on edge, their murmurs silenced as they waited for Lak''Ran''s next move. Everyone was watching, waiting to see what would happen next. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 73: KORNUUM DRHAKAR Lak''Ran raised his hands, palms open wide, as if he were addressing a grand assembly. His voice boomed, commanding attention as it echoed across the crowd. "Ah, so this is where we''re headed, huh?" He began to pace slowly, his eyes scanning the gathered Orcs and Elves, his lips curling into a mocking smile. "We all knew this was coming. But let me lay it out clearly for everyone." He turned toward Volk, his sneer deepening. "At the end of the day, this little Labor Orc, Volk, just hates us. Maybe it''s because he feels inferior? Maybe it''s because, no matter how many crystals he digs up from the ground, no matter how many Grum-gar forms he awakens, he''ll never truly belong." The crowd was silent, their eyes darting between Lak''Ran and Volk, waiting for more. "And why? What drives this hatred of his?" Lak''Ran''s voice took on a taunting, almost playful edge. "I''ll tell you why. It''s simple. It''s because, deep down, Volk is jealous. Yes, jealous. You see, he knows that even now, even after everything, his wife¡ªSolluha''r¡ªstill carries Luk''Tar in her heart." Lak''Ran laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "Isn''t that right, Volk? That''s what eats you up inside, isn''t it? That''s what makes you want to get rid of us. You think you can erase Luk''Tar from her heart by accusing me¡ªaccusing us¡ªof being traitors?" The laughter continued, his voice booming over the quiet murmurs of the crowd. "Poor Volk, blinded by rage, driven by jealousy. He just can''t stand the fact that he''s second best!" Volk clenched his fists, feeling the weight of Lak''Ran''s words press down on him, but he stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Lak''Ran, burning with anger. The crowd began to whisper amongst themselves, their voices rising like the hum of distant bees. "Volk doesn''t have clear evidence," one Orc muttered. "Maybe Lak''Ran''s right," an Elf added. "What if Volk is just angry because of Luk''Tar?" "I don''t know," another voice chimed in, "Lak''Ran''s always been loyal to the clan. Why would he betray us now?" The whispers grew louder, swirling around Volk, filling his ears with doubt and suspicion. He could hear every word, every skeptical murmur that cast shadows on his claims. The weight of their doubt pressed on him, but Volk''s resolve didn''t waver. He couldn''t afford to let it. Lak''Ran grinned, reveling in the crowd''s uncertainty. "See?" he said, spreading his arms wide. "Even they can see it, Volk. Even they know the truth. You''re just a jealous fool, trying to bring us down because you can''t stand the thought of being second in Solluha''r''s heart!" Stay with us at m.v.l.e.mpyr But then Volk''s lips curled into a small, defiant smile. "Heh." He crossed his arms over his chest, his voice low but clear. "Or maybe, Lak''Ran, you silenced your own son¡ªLhum''Baggar¡ªbecause he found out you were the traitor." The words hit Lak''Ran like a blow. It was like a guillotine in his neck that landed from the high heavens. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of fury passing through his face before it was quickly masked. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as his voice rose into a furious roar. "LUK''TAAAAAAAAAR!" S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The name echoed across the clearing like a shockwave that everyone¡ªevery single Orcs and Elves that there could hear and feel in the little hairs of their skins, and within moments, a figure emerged from the crowd with a thud. Luk''Tar strode forward, tall and imposing, and his presence commanded immediate attention to everyone in the crowd. But Volk''s sharp eyes noticed it right away¡ªthe dark magic particles clinging to him like a shadow, just like Lak''Ran. Another traitor. Luk''Tar''s gaze bore into Volk, and he was filled with righteous fury. "Here I am again, Volk," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You only proved yourself right because you won the fight, surprising me with your Grum-gar form that was already in phase two. As an Orc who honors his tribe, I didn''t respond to your accusations because I clearly lost due to your surprise. "And now, you''re still unsatisfied. You accuse me, my father, and now my brother? "Lhum''Baggar sacrificed himself for this clan. He was willing to act as a decoy to lure the Warlocks away so the rest of us could escape. He was a hero, Volk. A hero! And now you stand here, accusing him of betrayal? Of all things?" Volk narrowed his eyes, his mind immediately came up with a reason to answer Luk''Tar''s claim. "Your brother," he said slowly, "awakened his Grum-gar form in its third phase. The clan would never sacrifice someone with that kind of talent. Not unless they were fools." A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, louder this time. Volk could hear them clearly. "He''s right," an Orc muttered. "A young one who''s reached phase three of Grum-gar? That''s rare. That kind of talent is valuable. Why would the tribe sacrifice someone like that?" Another voice added, "The clan would never send someone with so much potential to die as bait. Lhum''Baggar should have been with us." The murmurs grew louder, confusion and doubt spreading through the ranks as they questioned the story of Lhum''Baggar''s supposed sacrifice. Luk''Tar''s face twisted in anger, his eyes flashing with frustration. "You''re making this up, Volk!" he spat, taking a step closer. "You think you can just throw out accusations and twist the truth to fit your narrative?" He paused, his eyes narrowing as an idea seemed to take shape in his mind. "Fine. You want proof? Let''s settle this the old way, then. Hand-to-hand combat. No weapons, no magic. Just you and me. If you beat me, I will fetch my brother myself." The crowd fell silent, the tension in the air immediately went thick and palpable as they awaited Volk''s response. The challenge had been laid out, and there was no turning back now. Luk''Tar''s eyes gleamed with barely concealed malice as he raised his hand and shouted, "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" The words echoed in the stillness, and the meaning was clear. This was a challenge of honor¡ªa fight to settle the dispute once and for all. Volk met Luk''Tar''s gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew this was more than just a fight. It was a test of his convictions, a battle for the truth. If he lost, the traitors would remain hidden, and Lhum''Baggar''s fate would stay shrouded in darkness. But if he won¡­ perhaps he could finally expose the lies that had been woven around the clan for so long. The crowd shifted, forming a circle around the two Orcs. The murmurs of doubt and uncertainty fell silent as they waited for the inevitable clash. Volk flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of the challenge settle on his shoulders. He could sense the strength radiating from Luk''Tar, the darkness clinging to him like a second skin. But there was no turning back now. He would face this head-on, no matter the cost. Luk''Tar smirked, his confidence evident. "Let''s see if you''re truly as strong as you think you are, Volk. This time, I won''t be surprised¡­" Volk''s eyes narrowed, his fists tightening. The fight was about to begin. Chapter 74: High Level Boxing Luk''Tar''s voice echoed over the gathered crowd as he shouted again, "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!" His voice was full of raw energy, hate and desire for destruction as if meant to stir the Orcs and Elves alike, announcing the impending duel with fervor. The crowd was silent for a moment, making the tension in the air almost unbearable for everyone around. Then, as if to drive the point home, Luk''Tar shouted the challenge again, "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!" Volk stood his ground, his eyes locking with Solluha''r''s. Her face was calm, but in her eyes, he saw concern. He gave her a small nod, and she returned it, with her lips forming a tight line. She believed in him. "Fine! Let''s do this!" Volk''s voice rang out, steady and strong, signaling his acceptance of the challenge that Luk''Tar was offering. Lak''Ran stepped forward, patting his son''s shoulder. "Are you sure about this, Luk''Tar?" he asked, his tone almost paternal, though there was an undercurrent of something darker in his words. Luk''Tar smiled confidently, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "I''m sure, Father. Volk is strong with weapons and in his Grum-gar form, I''ll give him that. But in hand-to-hand combat? He''s weak. I''ve faced him before, and there''s no way he''s improved so much in such a short amount of time. This is going to be easy." After that, another glint appeared in his eyes, "Plus, we have that, I won''t lose even if it was a fight to death!" Volk, however, was pacing back and forth, his thoughts focused. Swish! Swish! Swish! He was punching the air, making a sound similar to that of a whip. He had no doubts now. His body felt different, lighter, more flexible and confident. The system''s gift¡ªhigh-level boxing¡ªhad already begun coursing through his muscles. He could feel it in the way his fists clenched, the way his body moved with newfound precision. Luk''Tar, noticing Volk''s movements, called out, "No weapons! We''ll fight barehanded. We need to save our weapons in case the Warlocks catch up to us. And no Grum-gar forms either! If you shift into your form, you lose!" Volk nodded in agreement, and without a word, he dropped the Axe of Dissection in front of Solluha''r. His armor followed, clattering to the ground as Solluha''r stepped forward, picking up the axe and the other bone armors she could carry. Luk''Tar''s expression twisted into a snarl when he saw that. He was furious, the sight of Solluha''r holding Volk''s weapon stoking something in him, but he quickly masked his anger with a mocking smile. "LET''S GO, VOLK! I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!" The crowd shifted, eyes glued to the two combatants, murmuring amongst themselves as the tension built. Lak''Ran watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, confident in his son''s victory. The fight began with Luk''Tar charging forward, his fists swinging with brutal force. Volk narrowly dodged the first punch, slipping to the side as Luk''Tar''s fist passed by him. The air whistled with the power behind Luk''Tar''s strike. Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He was fast, stronger than most Orcs, but Volk felt something else. He felt¡­ calm. BANG! Volk''s fist connected with Luk''Tar''s ribs before he could recover from his missed punch. CRACCK! The impact was swift, solid, and precise. Luk''Tar gasped, stumbling back, surprised by the force. Luk''Tar gritted his teeth and charged again, this time more aggressively. He threw a barrage of punches, each one aimed at Volk''s face and chest, his movements quick and sharp. BANG! BANG! BANG! Volk dodged them all, slipping to the side, ducking low, his body moving fluidly as though he''d been fighting like this for years. Then, without warning, Volk''s right hand shot out in a lightning-fast jab. BANG! The punch slammed into Luk''Tar''s jaw, snapping his head to the side. The crowd gasped, murmurs rippling through the onlookers. "The Labor Orc was this strong?" "He was fast and can evade easily too?" Luk''Tar staggered, disoriented, wiping blood from his lip as he glared at Volk, with intense fury burning in his eyes. Luk''Tar couldn''t believe it. What''s going on? Volk wasn''t like this before. He''s faster¡ªstronger! He snarled, trying to push the thought aside. No matter. I''ll crush him still! Luk''Tar rushed again, but this time he tried to grapple Volk, aiming to use his larger size to overpower him. Swish! Volk shifted, using the momentum of Luk''Tar''s charge to throw him off balance. THUD! Luk''Tar hit the ground hard, gasping for breath. Volk loomed over him, and before Luk''Tar could react, Volk delivered a powerful punch to his stomach. BANG! Luk''Tar doubled over in pain, wheezing as the wind knocked out of him. Keeeesh! How is he this strong? They were in the same strength now, in Fifth Stage Mag''Durotan! Luk''Tar believed that he should have the upper hand! However, he was being beaten black and blue and no matter what he does, he cannot even touch Volk! He was never like this in the past! This can''t be Volk. Not the Volk I knew. He tried to push himself up, but Volk didn''t give him the chance. BANG! A right hook crashed into Luk''Tar''s cheek, sending him sprawling across the dirt. The crowd was silent now, stunned by the spectacle. They had expected a quick victory for Luk''Tar, but Volk was dominating the fight. Luk''Tar''s confidence began to waver. He couldn''t keep up. Every punch he threw was either dodged or blocked, and Volk''s counters were devastating, precise. He was getting beaten black and blue, and there was nothing he could do about it. Volk moved without a grace but he look fluid that was almost unnatural, every strike seemed deliberate, and every movement seemed calculated. Like he is not wasting his energy on unnecessary motions, and his fists¡­ his fists felt like iron. BANG! BANG! Join us at m_v le mpyr Two more punches landed squarely on Luk''Tar''s face, snapping his head back, and even making his nose spray a fountain of blood. The pain was overwhelming now, blinding him with every blow. How¡­ How did he get this strong? This fast? Luk''Tar''s mind began to whirl as he was punched left and right. His body was now screaming in agony, but he couldn''t stop. He wouldn''t allow himself to lose in front of everyone¡ªespecially not to Volk, a Labor Orc. But every time he tried to gather his strength, Volk was there, delivering another punishing blow. BANG! Luk''Tar''s body jerked with the impact of Volk''s punch, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out. His vision blurred, but through the haze, he could see the crowd watching, stunned into silence. Volk delivered one final punch, a solid uppercut that lifted Luk''Tar off his feet before he crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. The crowd was shocked. They had expected Luk''Tar to win easily, but now, Volk stood victorious, barely breaking a sweat, while Luk''Tar lay battered and broken on the ground. Volk wiped sweat from his brow, his breathing steady. The high-level boxing from the system had been more powerful than he ever imagined. He felt like he could take on an army with his bare hands. But something gnawed at the back of his mind. As Volk stood over Luk''Tar, victorious, he couldn''t help but feel that something was off. Luk''Tar had been beaten thoroughly, yet he hadn''t gone down. He was still conscious, still moving despite the severe beating. Why isn''t he going down? Volk''s eyes narrowed as he looked down at Luk''Tar''s bloodied form. Something wasn''t right, and he could feel it. There was something unnatural about how Luk''Tar kept standing up, even after receiving punches that should''ve left him unconscious. His head was clawing of possibilities why as he tried to piece it together. What is going on? Chapter 75: Cheating LukTar The crowd gathered around the two combatants was growing restless. The Orcs and Elves had expected the fight to be over by now, but something strange was happening. Luk''Tar should have gone down after the savage beating Volk had dealt him, yet there he stood, bruised, bloodied, but still upright. What is wrong with him? Is he really that tough? It felt unnatural in a way it''s abnormal for someone to be that tough! Volk was the first to notice something off. Every time he landed a solid punch on Luk''Tar, the dark magic particles that surrounded the young Orc would shift and swirl, like a protective barrier. They drifted toward the areas Volk struck, almost as if they were healing him, keeping him from collapsing. As Volk''s fist slammed into Luk''Tar''s ribs again with a resounding BANG!, he saw it. The dark magic particles, faint at first, began to swirl around Luk''Tar''s torso, as though drawn to the impact. Volk''s brow furrowed. What the hell is this? ''This bastard, he was doing something dirty! How do I expose him?'' He asked himself. It was very clear to him, all that he needed to do was expose and show it! The Orcs and Elves murmured among themselves, their whispers growing louder. "How is Luk''Tar still standing?" "Did you see that? Volk''s hitting him with everything he''s got, but it''s like¡­ it''s like nothing''s happening!" "Something''s not right. This isn''t normal." Volk heard them, their voices full of doubt, but his focus remained on Luk''Tar. Another punch connected with Luk''Tar''s face, making his head snap back violently. BANG! Still, Luk''Tar stood, blood pouring from his nose, eyes dark and menacing. What the hell is keeping him up? Should I do it? Volk wondered, his fists still clenched, and his breathing now changed, becoming more cautious than heavy. Suddenly, after taking another blow to his chest, Luk''Tar did something unexpected. He lunged forward and grabbed Volk in a tight embrace, with his bruised and battered body pressing against Volk''s. With his mouth inches from Volk''s ear, he whispered, "You will never beat me." Volk''s eyes widened at the words. The dark magic particles shifted more violently around Luk''Tar, and Volk could feel the sinister energy seeping from the young Orc. But Volk wasn''t about to let this cheap trick go unnoticed. He ducked swiftly under Luk''Tar''s grasp and slipped away, using the precise footwork he had received thanks to the system''s high-level boxing skill. His eyes narrowed as he distanced himself, and without hesitation, he shouted, "Luk''Tar, you''re cheating!" The crowd immediately erupted into a cacophony of murmurs and gasps, with their shock sounding palpable. "Cheating?" "What''s he talking about?" "I knew something was wrong!" "It''s clear! That dark magic around Luk''Tar! He''s using something!" Luk''Tar stood tall, his laughter a low, sinister sound that echoed across the clearing. "Heh!" he sneered, wiping the blood from his lips. "Your punches are mere tickles, Volk. And now you''re accusing me of cheating?" His voice dripped with contempt. "What kind of excuses are these now? Just because you can''t win? Pathetic." S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Luk''Tar stepped forward, taunting Volk with a slow, deliberate swagger. "Do you think that because you''re finally standing up like a real Orc that it makes you my equal? You''re nothing! You''ve always been nothing but a Labor Orc, a tool for the tribe! And now you dare accuse me of cheating?" The crowd shifted nervously, their eyes darting between the two Orcs. Some murmured in agreement with Luk''Tar, while others remained silent, clearly unsettled by the dark magic that swirled around him. Volk''s fists tightened, his jaw clenching in frustration. ''I needed to make a risk!'' He couldn''t argue with Luk''Tar''s arrogance¡ªhis taunts had the desired effect on the crowd. But Volk knew the truth, and he was determined to reveal it. "You are cheating," Volk said, his voice low but filled with conviction. ''I''ll do that now, if it costs me losing, then so be it!'' His eyes glanced toward Solluha''r, who stood just beyond the fight''s perimeter, her eyes focused on him. He gave her the briefest of nods, and without hesitation, Solluha''r understood. In one swift motion, Solluha''r hurled the Axe of Dissection toward Volk. SWOOSH! The heavy weapon cut through the air with deadly precision. Volk''s hand shot up, grabbing the axe mid-flight, its familiar weight settling into his grip like an extension of his arm. Luk''Tar''s eyes went wide, with his arrogant smirk fading into panic as he saw the gleaming blade of the axe. The crowd gasped collectively, their murmurs silencing for just a moment. "What the¡ª" Luk''Tar started to speak, but it was too late. In a single fluid motion, Volk swung the Axe of Dissection upward. The blade gleamed under the faint light as it sliced through the air. SWISH! The axe connected with Luk''Tar''s face, carving a vicious line from his chin to his brow. Blood sprayed from the wound as Luk''Tar staggered back, his hands flying to his face in a futile attempt to stem the flow. The crowd gasped in horror, many Orcs and Elves instinctively stepping back. Luk''Tar''s body wobbled for a moment, his legs shaking as though they could no longer support his weight. Then, with a sickening THUD, he collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. For a heartbeat, there was absolute silence. Volk stood over Luk''Tar, breathing heavily, his eyes blazing with satisfaction. He wiped the blood from the blade of the axe on his arm and spat at the ground near Luk''Tar''s body. "Cheating bastard," he muttered under his breath. Suddenly, Lak''Ran''s voice exploded from the crowd. "YOU DAMN LABOR OOOOORC!!" The bellow was filled with rage, and Volk could feel the anger radiating from the elder Orc. Join the adventure on m-vl-e-mpyr Lak''Ran pushed through the gathered onlookers, his eyes wide with fury as he rushed toward his son''s fallen body. His face contorted in a mix of shock and disbelief, his once calm demeanor completely shattered. "You filthy Labor Orc!" Lak''Ran''s voice cracked as he knelt beside Luk''Tar, whose chest still heaved with shallow breaths. He was alive, but barely. Blood smeared across Lak''Ran''s hands as he tried to cradle his son''s head. "You think you''ve won?" Lak''Ran snarled, his gaze snapping up to meet Volk''s. "You think this makes you strong? This doesn''t change a damn thing! You''ll never be more than a worthless Labor Orc!" Volk, gripping the Axe of Dissection tightly, met Lak''Ran''s gaze with unflinching resolve. "I don''t need your approval. You and your son are the traitors here. And now, everyone sees the truth." The crowd murmured again, this time louder. The evidence was undeniable. Luk''Tar should have gone down long ago, but the dark magic that surrounded him had kept him on his feet. Volk had exposed the treachery for all to see. Lak''Ran''s face twisted in rage, his hands trembling with the effort to contain his fury. But as much as he wanted to retaliate, he knew that the eyes of the tribe were on him. He was out of moves, for now. But the storm brewing behind Lak''Ran''s eyes promised this wasn''t over. Not by a long shot! Suddenly, his eyes glinted in a desperate and malevolent light! Chapter 76: Sign of Dark Elven Witches The silence following Luk''Tar''s fall was abruptly shattered by Lak''Ran''s furious bellow. "Seize him! He used a weapon! He defied the law of Duel! We must not accept that he cheated! Seize that damn Labor Ooooorc!!" His voice echoed across the clearing, filled with righteous anger, and furious growl as. Instantly, all eyes turned toward Volk. The Orcs and Elves, stunned by the brutal fight, now seemed confused, their faces saying they were caught between Lak''Ran''s command and the truth of what had just unfolded. Volk stood tall, his chest heaving as he held the Axe of Dissection. "Ha!" "Ha!" "Ha!" He couldn''t help and exhale and inhale deep air as he felt it was too taxing to use the boxing moves. "I''m still not used to those moves!" He knew Lak''Ran would try to turn the tide against him. He could feel the tension in the air. But he wasn''t about to let that happen. He was prepared for ever since he decided to gamble! "Look at Luk''Tar''s body!" Volk shouted, pointing toward his fallen opponent. All heads swiveled toward Luk''Tar. His massive form lay motionless on the ground, blood still dripping from the gash across his face. For a moment, it seemed like the fight was over, but then, the air around Luk''Tar seemed to shift. A low growl rumbled from his chest, growing louder and more menacing with each passing second. Slowly, painfully, Luk''Tar''s body began to change. His muscles bulged, and his skin stretched taut over his expanding frame. His bones cracked and shifted, growing larger and more monstrous by the moment. The transformation was agonizingly slow, as if whatever dark magic had been woven into him was forcing the Grum-gar form out of him. His body doubled in size, then tripled, until he towered above the crowd like a nightmarish giant. His skin, normally a dark green, became mottled and twisted with veins of black magic. His eyes, once gleaming with rage, were now dull, filled with a savage hunger. And then, when his transformation was complete, Luk''Tar released a deafening, guttural ROOOOOOOAAAARRRRR! The ground trembled under the force of his roar, and the crowd shrank back in terror. Even the bravest warriors among them felt their knees weaken as the monstrous Luk''Tar took a step forward, his massive feet cracking the earth beneath him. But there was something else. Something is wrong. Definitely wrong. "Look!" one of the Elves in the crowd screamed, pointing toward Luk''Tar''s body. "The tattoos! They''re¡­ they''re not normal!" The crowd gasped as they saw it too. In his Grum-gar form, Luk''Tar''s skin was not smooth like a regular Orc''s. Instead, it was marked with strange, dark tattoos, like the twisted roots of a tree, snaking across his body. They pulsed with dark energy, glowing faintly in the dim light of the dawn. And for sure, some of them would obviously recognize those marks and what it signifies. "Those markings!" someone else shouted. "Those are the marks of the Dark Elven Witches!" Immediately, panic spread like wildfire to the whole crowd. They were running from the Red Elven Warlocks and now, there are Dark Elves Witches too? This is a nightmare for real! A nightmare for real! The name alone sent shivers down the spine of every Orc and Elf present. Dark Elves, the ancient enemies who wielded forbidden magic, the one who was hunting their whole race. Using elves blood to make their lifespan longer and enslaving the Hornless Orc tribe easily like a dog. To see their mark on Luk''Tar was a terrifying omen. Get more insights at m_v_l_e_m_p_y_r They were infiltrated. "No! No, it can''t be!" "He''s been tainted! Corrupted by dark magic!" "What does this mean? Is the whole tribe compromised?" The panic grew louder and louder, and soon, chaos erupted. Orcs and Elves alike began shouting, pointing fingers, scrambling to understand what was happening. Some accused Lak''Ran of treachery, others feared that more of their kin were corrupted. The fear was palpable, and Volk could see it spreading like an infection. Volk knew he had to act fast. "Don''t let Lak''Ran escape!" he roared, hoping to regain control of the situation. But when the crowd turned to where Lak''Ran had stood just moments ago, he was nowhere to be found. "He''s gone!" someone shouted. "Where did he go?" Volk''s eyes darted across the gathering. Lak''Ran had slipped away like a shadow, vanishing amidst the chaos. The cunning old Orc had used the confusion to his advantage, disappearing before anyone had the chance to catch him. Volk cursed under his breath. ''That damn bastard, he got away!'' Meanwhile, Lak''Ran was weaving his way through the panicked crowd, his heart pounding in his chest. He had planned for this, prepared for the moment when everything would fall apart. He had always known his son''s transformation would cause a stir, but he hadn''t anticipated how quickly Volk would figure things out. Damn lowly Orcs¡­ Lak''Ran thought, gritting his teeth. ''You will all soon be slaves to my master! Damn Orcs, you will see! You all will see!'' But before he could savor his imagined victory, Lak''Ran''s body suddenly went rigid. A sharp pain shot through his spine, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as darkness clouded his vision. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You won''t escape," a voice growled from the shadows. Lak''Ran''s eyes darted around wildly, but he couldn''t see his attacker. He could feel a presence, someone close, but the world was spinning too fast for him to make sense of anything. His fingers clawed at the dirt as he tried to crawl away, but it was no use. His strength was gone.. He couldn''t get away! On the other side of the clearing, Volk felt his own body weakening. The strain of the fight, the dark magic in the air, and the energy he had spent had taken its toll. His limbs felt heavy, and his vision swam. But just as he was about to collapse, Solluha''r appeared at his side, catching him before he fell. "You did it, Volk," she whispered, her voice soothing amidst the chaos. "You exposed them." Volk leaned into her, exhaustion weighing him down. His mind was still spinning, trying to make sense of everything. "I¡­ I gambled," he muttered, more to himself than to Solluha''r. "Luk''Tar¡­ he gave the rules. No Grum-gar form. That''s how I found out. It was a gamble, but I had to try." Solluha''r looked at him, confusion in her eyes. "A gamble? What do you mean?" Volk shook his head. "I''m not sure. But¡­ It worked. For now." As Solluha''r helped him steady himself, Volk felt a strange sense of relief wash over him. The fight was over, but he knew this was only the beginning. There were still too many questions unanswered, too many loose ends. But just as he started to relax, his eyes widened in realization. The system. The words flashed in his mind, a sudden, jarring reminder. He had completed the first mission¡ªhe had found the traitor¡ªbut there was more. He remembered the notification. | Mission: | Explode all of the traitors¡­ 3/54. | His stomach twisted as the weight of the task ahead settled on him. Fifty-four traitors. Lak''Ran had escaped, and there were still many others lurking in the shadows that he needed to expose. Volk''s exhaustion deepened as he considered the enormity of what lay ahead. This was far from over. He needed to complete the system mission first or the whole Dreadmaw clan would be annihilated! Chapter 77: Failed Volk''s blood in his head began to slither through his brain to think carefully with a desperate fury as he tried to think of ways to expose the traitors hiding within the Dreadmaw Clan. Every second counted, and shouldering the weight of the clan''s survival was pressed down on Volk like a suffocating dust shroud. He took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of focus he had. The first plan that crossed his mind was simple: isolate and interrogate. He could round up anyone he suspected of betrayal and question them one by one. He could put them under intense pressure until they either broke or exposed themselves. The idea of using his newfound boxing skills to force answers out of them gave him a brief of force confidence. He imagined grabbing Luk''Tar by the collar and demanding the names of every traitor, breaking bone if necessary. But the reality of it all crushed the idea before it could take root. Volk shook his head, knowing it would be impossible to interrogate so many. Time wasn''t on their side. Even if there was no timing, he felt he had. He couldn''t afford to deal with one Orc at a time when the threat of annihilation loomed overhead. Moreover, brutal tactics might further divide the clan. Fear and mistrust would fester like an open wound, and soon they would tear each other apart even faster than the enemy could. Volk''s second plan involved magic. Surely there was some way to use it to expose the traitors. He thought about enlisting the few magic users in the clan. Maybe they could cast some kind of spell to reveal the truth. He entertained the notion of forcing Lak''Ran to undergo a magical trial, where any Dark Elf enchantments would be unveiled in front of the entire clan. But Volk knew deep down that magic wasn''t reliable in this situation. If the traitors had been working with the Dark Elves, they would likely know how to conceal themselves from such spells. Plus, the clan''s magic users didn''t fully trust him. Ever since he exposed Luk''Tar, suspicion had only grown between him and the rest of the tribe''s elite. And him, being a young blood Kaz''rogal would likely get ignored. It wouldn''t work, Volk thought, dismissing the idea with a heavy sigh. The third plan seemed more traditional: appeal to the tribal elders. . The Dreadmaw Clan had always respected its elders, who possessed the wisdom of ages. Maybe they would recognize something Volk hadn''t noticed, some subtle behavior or clue that would expose the traitors. But as the thought played out in his mind, he quickly realized the futility of it. Most of the elders had already gone missing or were too paralyzed by fear to act decisively. Those who remained lacked the strength or authority to impose order on the tribe. They had become figureheads, unable to control the chaos that now threatened to tear everything apart. The elders can''t help me. They can''t even help themselves. With each idea failing one after another, Volk felt a creeping sense of doom gnawing at his insides. He clenched his fists, angry with himself for not having a clear solution. There must be something I can do. Anything. Then, it hit him like a bolt of lightning¡ªthe Labor Orcs. Aren''t Labor Orcs supposed to be the first to sense danger? Volk''s pulse quickened as he remembered their keen ability to detect hazardous magic particles. If the Dark Elves had infiltrated the clan, they would have needed to take out the Labor Orcs first to prevent detection. His voice exploded with desperation, cutting through the air like a thunderclap. "THE LABOR ORCS! DON''T LET THEM GO! DON''T LET THEM GO!" The sudden urgency in Volk''s voice shook the tribe to its core. For a moment, there as a heavy silence blanketing the crowd. Then, as if a dam had burst, the Elves and Orcs sprang into action. They had been wary of each other, unsure of who to trust, but now they moved with purpose. Volk watched as the Labor Orcs began to rise. At first, there were only three. Then six. Then nine. His heart blood pumping quickened with hope as more of them stood. Twelve. Fifteen. Nineteen. But then... it stopped. His hope shattered like glass. Nineteen wasn''t enough. He needed at least thirty, maybe more, to expose the full scale of the conspiracy. Where are the rest? His heart sank into a pit of panic. Where are they hiding? They needed every last Labor Orc if they were going to survive this threat. As Volk''s eyes darted around the camp in a frenzy, a dark, mocking laugh rang through the air, cutting through his thoughts like a jagged blade. He turned and saw Lak''Ran, bound but grinning like a madman. "Looking for someone, little Labor Orc?" Lak''Ran sneered, his eyes gleaming with wicked glee. Volk''s teeth clenched, fury boiling within him. "What are you talking about?" Lak''Ran chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with malice. "You''re too late. They''ve already fled, you fool. The moment you mentioned Lhum''Baggar, we knew our time was up. Some of us ran. And your precious Luk''Tar? His only job was to distract you long enough for them to escape. Hahaha!" Volk''s blood ran cold. "No... no!" he stammered. He turned back to the crowd, his heart thudding in his chest. "Search for them! Find the Labor Orcs!" His voice cracked with desperation as he screamed. But Lak''Ran''s cruel voice sliced through the chaos once again, mocking him. "Give it up, little Labor Orc. Plus who are you to order them? You''re just a young blood Kaz''rogal! You''ve lost. All you did was waste time fighting Luk''Tar while the real threat slipped through your fingers." Volk felt a chill creep up his spine, but he forced himself to ignore it. "I won''t give up!" Lak''Ran cackled even louder. "Why not join us, little Labor Orc? You''re strong. We could use someone like you. Pledge your loyalty to the Dark Elven Witches. Together, we could wipe out these Red Warlocks. Imagine the power you''d have! Hahahaha!" The laughter echoed in Volk''s ears, threatening to drown him in doubt. His chest heaved as he tried to push the despair aside. He couldn''t let the clan fall. He couldn''t lose. Not like this. Not after everything. Suddenly, the Orcs pulled Lak''Ran away. Just then, a familiar chime echoed in his mind. A system notification appeared before his eyes, and the words cut into his soul like a blade. | Mission Failed. | Star = Basic-level Muay Thai Kickboxing received. | Dreadmaw Clan will experience annihilation in 7 hours. | Volk''s breath hitched. Mission failed? Discover tales on m-vl-em,pyr He stared blankly at the notification, unable to process it. The words felt foreign, distant, as if they weren''t meant for him. I failed? He looked up at the gathered Orcs and Elves, he could see their faces were blurred by his confusion and exhaustion. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their expressions were a chaotic blend of panic and fear, but Volk couldn''t focus on any of them. Failed. The word felt like it was imprinted in his mind, over and over, until it drowned out everything else. Lak''Ran''s laughter still rang in his ears, but Volk didn''t react. He couldn''t. He was numb. The Dreadmaw Clan was doomed, and he couldn''t help but feel it was all his fault. Chapter 78: Little hope left Volk stood frozen, and his head was trying to dig deep to his brain on what to do as the system notification glared in front of his eyes: | Mission Failed. | Basic-level Muay Thai Kickboxing received. | Dreadmaw Clan will experience annihilation in 7 hours. | His heart thundered in his chest, and his breath came in ragged gasps. "No. "This cannot be it." Desperation clawed at his insides, threatening to explode inside him. "I will not die like this. "I will not let my people die like this!" His teeth ground together, and his hands balled into fists so tight that his knuckles turned white. "NO!" Volk roared, shaking the very air around him. The sound was primal, wild, as if something deep within him had finally broken free. "I will not let this happen!" His voice cracked, but he didn''t care. He couldn''t care. The ground trembled beneath his feet as his voice echoed through the clearing. "I WILL NOT DIE LIKE THIS!" The Elves and Orcs around him flinched at his outburst, their eyes wide with confusion and fear. But Volk was beyond reason now. His desperation was boiling over, and all he could think about was finding a way¡ªany way¡ªto turn the tide of fate. "FIND THOSE SPIES!" Volk screamed, his voice growing more frantic with each word. "WE CAN STILL ESCAPE!" His eyes darted wildly across the crowd, as if he could somehow will them into action with sheer force of will. "IF WE CAN''T ESCAPE, WE CAN FIGHT BACK!" He felt his throat burn as he screamed, but he didn''t stop. He couldn''t stop. "STAND UP! BE STRONG!" His voice cracked again, but the madness in his eyes only intensified. "STAND UP AND BE STRONG!" Every word, every scream felt like a desperate plea to the gods. But it wasn''t the gods he needed to convince¡ªit was these terrified, hopeless warriors around him. His people, his clan. The Elves and Orcs exchanged nervous glances, their bodies trembling with fear. The weight of Volk''s words was like an anchor pulling them deeper into despair. They all knew what he was saying was true. But even in the face of his desperate screams, their hearts sank lower and lower. How could they fight against the impossible? They had all heard the stories. The Red Elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches¡ªtwo opposing forces that used lesser races as pawns in their never-ending war. To them, the hornless Orc tribes and the Elves were nothing more than prizes, trophies to be claimed in their deadly sport. Whoever seized them first would be the victor. It was a game of power and conquest, and the Orcs and Elves were nothing but the spoils. Volk''s screams grew louder, more frenzied, as he paced back and forth, clutching his head as if trying to physically shake the desperation out of his mind. Find exclusive chapters on m-vl-em-py-r "WE HAVE TO FIGHT!" he bellowed. "WE CAN''T JUST SIT HERE AND WAIT TO DIE! WE HAVE TO¡ª" But his voice was swallowed by the weight of their hopelessness. One by one, the warriors around him began to crumble. Their faces were pale, their hands shaking. Even those who had once stood tall and proud now seemed weak, helpless, their spirits broken by the knowledge that no matter how strong they were, no matter how hard they fought, they could never win. Volk saw the look in their eyes¡ªthe look of surrender. "No, no, no! This isn''t how it''s supposed to end!" His chest heaved with the effort of his screams, his throat raw and aching, but still he pushed on. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "DON''T LET THEM GO!" His voice cracked again, his desperation bleeding into every word. "WE CAN DO THIS! WE CAN FIGHT BACK!" But even as the words left his lips, Volk could see the truth etched on their faces. They knew what was coming. They had heard the stories of the Red Elven Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches clashing in all-out war. They knew that the hornless Orc tribes were nothing more than collateral damage, a casualty of a war between rulers of different realms. Volk''s screams echoed across the clearing, but the Orcs and Elves stood motionless, frozen in fear. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat a reminder of the time slipping away. Suddenly, an Orc stepped forward and placed a hand on Volk''s shoulder. "Kaz''rogal," he said, his face etched with the deep lines of countless battles fought and lost, stared into Volk''s eyes with a mixture of pity and understanding. "Enough, little Kaz''rogal." Kaz''rogal''s voice was calm, steady. It cut through Volk''s rambling like a cold wind. "We understand." Volk shook his head, refusing to believe it. "No!" He jerked away from the elder''s grasp. "We can still fight! We can still¡ª" Kaz''rogal''s expression didn''t change, but there was something heavy in his gaze. "Kaz''rogal, listen to me. You know what happens when the Red Elven Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches clash." Volk froze, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Kaz''rogal continued, his voice barely a whisper now, but every word felt like a hammer blow to Volk''s soul. "Whenever those two armies clash, it''s all-out war. And we... we are nothing to them. We are but two percent of their pawns. We are insignificant in their eyes, Volk." His eyes clouded with sorrow as he spoke, the truth too heavy for him to bear. "They will kill each other, and they will kill us for sure. We are merely the consequences of their game of conquest. There is no escape." Volk''s lips trembled as he struggled to find words. How did it come to this? How had they fallen so far? "How did this happen?" Volk asked, his voice barely a whisper, his mind refusing to accept the grim reality. Kaz''rogal sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the knowledge he carried. "A dead Warlock is the reason. It''s not your fault, little Labor Orc." The elder''s voice was thick with sorrow. "If that Warlock had survived, he would have called for backup, too. But now... now, both sides are coming. And we are caught in the middle." Volk''s breath caught in his throat. A dead Warlock? The weight of the elder''s words crashed down on him, leaving him feeling utterly powerless. For a moment, Volk could hardly breathe. Had it really come to this? Just as the full weight of the situation began to crush him, another system notification appeared in his vision. The cold, emotionless text blinked before his eyes: | Ding! | Mission: Suggest an escape place. | Rewards: Survival of the few. | Failure: Complete Annihilation. | Volk''s eyes widened as he stared at the screen, his heart pounding so loudly he could barely hear his own thoughts. His entire body felt numb, his mind blank. An escape plan? His mind reeled as the words echoed in his head. He had no plan. No strategy. And now, he had mere hours before everything he had ever known was destroyed. As the notification faded from view, Volk''s legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees. His hands shook as he stared into the distance, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. Is there a way out of this? Can I really save them? Volk''s chest tightened as the full weight of the mission sank in. Seven hours. That was all he had left. Chapter 79: Other Orc Clans Volk stood still, his eyes shut tightly, forcing his mind to focus. His breaths were ragged, and his body was trembling with the pressure of them all. He knew how his system worked¡ªhow it thrived on the reality of the situation, the choices made under extreme duress. If there was an escape, it would help him find it. "But where? "Where could we go?" His thoughts raced wildly, colliding in a chaotic jumble. His mind flashed through images of forests, valleys, mountains¡ªbut nothing seemed right. "The forest?" He considered it for a moment. The forest could provide cover, places to hide... But as soon as the thought formed, he dismissed it. No, they''re already in the forest. It wasn''t enough. The trees would only delay the inevitable. His brow furrowed as frustration gnawed at him. He had to think faster. "A place... "A place where we can survive¡­" But no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn''t find it. His breathing quickened, panic clawing at his chest. Think, Volk! Think! Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp chime in his mind: | Ding! | The host has ten seconds to suggest a location. | Volk''s eyes shot open in terror. "Ten seconds? " The blood that pumps his heart immediately quickened, his muscles tightening as if they were ready to explode from the pressure. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for anything, any hint of salvation. "Think, think, THINK!" And then it hit him¡ªZenveil. His mind flashed back to that fateful battle. The cold, damp air of the catacombs. The twisted shadows that had danced along the stone walls as he faced the three-headed beast. The catacombs beneath the battlefield. They were treacherous, yes, but they were also vast, a labyrinth of tunnels that had swallowed even Zenveil, a Warlock of immense power. If I could kill Zenveil there, then maybe¡ª Volk''s eyes snapped toward the elder Orc who had stopped him earlier. Before the elder could turn away, Volk surged forward and shouted, "Wait!" The Orc paused mid-step, turning slowly to face Volk. His expression was skeptical, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. The others, too, looked toward Volk, the faintest glimmer of hope in their weary eyes. "We could escape to the catacombs!" Volk''s voice was strong, his eyes wide with urgency. "The catacombs where I killed Zenveil!" For a moment, there was a stunned silence. The crowd of Orcs and Elves exchanged glances, their faces etched with disbelief. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the elder Orc threw his head back and laughed¡ªloud, hearty, and cruel. "Grahahhahahaha! "The catacombs?!" the elder roared, his laughter ringing out across the clearing. His large frame shook with each bellow. "You''re serious, young one? The most dangerous place in this land? The catacombs are a death trap! If we go there, we''ll be attacked from all sides! "After all, our powers would be supresswd there. The horrors that lurk in those depths would eat us alive before the Elven Warlocks or Witches even lay a finger on us!" The other Orcs and Elves began to murmur amongst themselves, and many nodded in agreement. The catacombs were a place of death too, a nightmare whispered among them. It was said that the dead roamed those tunnels, that dark spirits and worse called it their home. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. To enter the catacombs was to face certain doom. And yet, despite the elder''s mocking laughter, Volk stood firm. The elder shook his head and stepped closer to Volk, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You''re desperate, young one. I understand. We all are. But there''s no escaping this fate. The Red Elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches are closing in. It''s too late." "It''s not too late!" Volk snapped, shaking the elder''s hand off his shoulder. His eyes were wild, his voice desperate. "If we can make it to the catacombs, we can survive! The tunnels go on for miles. They''re deep¡ªtoo deep for the Elves to follow us easily. We can hide there, regroup. It''s our best chance!" The elder sighed, a mix of pity and frustration in his gaze. "Even if we go there, Volk, we''ll be attacked by the creatures that dwell within. You may have killed Zenveil, but you know as well as I do that the catacombs are far more dangerous than that one battle." Volk''s lips trembled, his mind racing for an argument, but before he could speak, the elder added, "Unless..." The elder paused, his words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. "Unless what?" Volk demanded, his heart pounding in his chest. But before the elder could finish his thought, a familiar voice cut through the air like a blade. "Volk completed the catacombs." The voice was sharp, commanding, and instantly recognizable. Volk''s heart skipped a beat as he turned to see her¡ªSolluha''r, her fierce eyes locking onto his. Her presence was like a storm, her aura radiating confidence and strength. "Volk gave me the magic crystal." Solluha''r continued, stepping forward with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The elder''s eyes widened in surprise, his disbelief palpable. The crowd stirred, murmurs spreading like wildfire. A ripple of hope began to form as they processed Solluha''r''s words. If Volk had truly conquered the catacombs, maybe there was a way. Experience tales at m-vl-e-mpyr Maybe, just maybe. ¡ª Away from the Dreadmaw Clan, far from the chaos and desperation that gripped Volk and his people, a very different scene unfolded. The entrance to the catacombs loomed before a group of fearsome warriors, its dark, gaping maw seemingly ready to swallow them whole. Standing proudly at the forefront were the Bloodfang Clan, their attire fierce and primal. Blood-red armor adorned their bodies, fashioned from the hides of beasts they had slain in battle. Their faces were painted with war symbols, and they carried large, serrated blades and axes, weapons known for tearing flesh from bone with ease. They were brutal, ruthless warriors, known for their savage tactics in battle. Next to them stood the Ironhide Clan, a stark contrast to the Bloodfangs. Their skin was as tough as stone, their armor thick and unyielding, made of iron plates fused to their very flesh. Their weapons were large hammers and maces, designed to crush their enemies into dust with a single blow. Wounds barely fazed them; their bodies were as unbreakable as the iron they were named after. Further back, the Thunderstrike Clan moved restlessly, their attire sleek and lightning-quick, matching their reputation for speed and agility. They wielded long, thin blades that crackled with electric energy, and they could strike down an opponent before they even knew what hit them. The Stonefist Clan stood like giants among the group, their muscles bulging beneath their armor. Massive brutes, each with fists capable of shattering stone, they wielded enormous clubs and warhammers, capable of breaking bones with a single strike. Their attire was simple but reinforced with plates of metal that protected their vital areas. From the shadows, the Shadowclaw Clan watched in silence, their black and grey attire blending seamlessly into the darkness. They were assassins, masters of stealth and subterfuge. Each carried thin, curved blades and throwing daggers, tools of silent death that struck without warning. Their eyes gleamed from beneath their hoods, always watching, always calculating. The Fireblood Clan exuded raw, burning energy. Their fiery tempers matched their affinity for flame magic, and their armor shimmered with heat. They wielded short swords and fire-enhanced gauntlets, dangerous in close quarters where they could ignite their enemies with a touch. And finally, the Frostbite Clan, cold and calculating. Their armor was pale blue and white, reflecting their icy demeanor. They wielded frost-forged blades that could freeze flesh on contact, and their bodies radiated an aura of chilling calm, even in the heat of battle. The leader of the Ironhide Clan grunted as he inspected the entrance to the catacombs, his voice a deep rumble. "Are they done?" The leader of the Bloodfang Clan stepped forward, his lips curling into a satisfied grin. His eyes glowed with a dark, dangerous light. "It''s done," he said, his voice dripping with malice. Chapter 80: Dreadmaw Clan, incoming The gathering at the entrance to the catacombs buzzed with the grim energy of impending battle. The Orc clans stood together in a loose formation, their tension barely hidden under forced bravado. They all knew what was coming, what fate awaited those who failed to hide or fight back against the relentless onslaught of Red Elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches. Yet, despite the looming danger, there was an undeniable camaraderie between the Orc tribes¡ªa mutual respect, though often laced with mockery. Suddenly, a voice rang out from the distance. "Wait!" The sound echoed across the gathering, halting all movement. The various Orc clans turned their heads as one, their eyes falling on the approach of the Dreadmaw Clan. Their numbers were fewer than the other tribes, and their heavy footsteps were slow, burdened with the weight of defeat and exhaustion. The once-proud hunters now looked disheveled, their armor dented, and their eyes filled with a sense of despair. They must have traveled fast and a lot. A murmur spread through the crowd. Then, laughter broke the tense silence. The leader of the Bloodfang Clan, a hulking Orc draped in red and black armor, barked out a laugh so loud it made the ground tremble beneath him. His yellowed tusks gleamed in the faint light as he slapped his thigh in mock amusement. "Look at this, boys!" he called to his clansmen. "Who would''ve thought the Dreadmaw Clan would make it this far? I thought they could only hunt fishes and wild animals. Seems like desperation sharpens even the dullest minds!" Another round of laughter erupted from the surrounding Orcs. The Ironhide Clan, known for their stoic demeanor, allowed themselves a rare chuckle, and even the normally silent Shadowclaw Clan let out a low snicker. The Thunderstrike Orcs, always quick with their wit, were the first to pile on. "Maybe they''ve finally started using their heads for more than just smashing rocks!" one of them quipped, prompting another wave of jeers. Volk''s face twitched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he held his tongue. ''Wait until the threat of Warlock and Dark elves is gone, I''ll smack you all at once!'' he mumbled. The Bloodfang Chieftain wasn''t done yet, though. His laughter died down, but a wicked grin remained on his face as he cast his eyes toward a particular figure in his ranks. "Hey, Grounad!" he shouted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come over here, warrior! You''re our mightiest, a Kaz''rogal this year, aren''t you? Tell me, do you really think these weaklings defeated a Warlock? You don''t have to lie to us, you know. If you''re scared to be blamed, just tell the truth." Grounad stepped forward, his massive form towering even over the other Bloodfangs. His every movement seemed to exude raw strength, but there was no laughter in his eyes. Instead, there was a deep frown of confusion as he regarded the Dreadmaw Clan. His gaze settled on Volk, studying him intently. "Volk..." Grounad mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, but enough to break the atmosphere of laughter. Soon, the laughter around him did began to fade, replaced by murmurs of curiosity. Grounad''s reaction wasn''t what the others had expected. His usual bravado seemed dimmed, his confidence shaken by the sight of Volk and his clan. Discover the saga at m-vl-em-pyr The Dreadmaw Clan continued their approach, their faces downcast, clearly worn from the run. The other Orc clans, though still mocking them, began to notice their condition. The Ironhide Clan stepped forward, their leader, with his iron-like skin, addressing them with a smirk. "Why so down, Dreadmaw?" he asked. "We''re all in the same boat. You''ll hide in the catacombs like the rest of us. As long as we suppress our mana and mend our forces, the Elves won''t find us. Once their war is over, we''ll come out, and you''ll still have your miserable lives!" The Orcs from the Thunderstrike Clan laughed heartily, with their voices cutting through the air like blades. They slapped each other on the back as though they didn''t have a care in the world. The other clans joined in, their laughter filling the air with a false sense of ease, as if they were invincible, unaffected by the horrors waiting for them beyond the catacombs. "It''s like a game to them," one of the Fireblood Clan Orcs muttered under his breath, his fiery eyes scanning the group of warriors. "They laugh as though the Warlocks and Witches aren''t hunting us like animals." Volk gritted his teeth. They had no idea what they were up against. The catacombs weren''t a sanctuary¡ªthey were a death trap. And the creatures lurking in its dark, cold corridors wouldn''t hesitate to tear apart anyone foolish enough to think they were safe. It was explained to him during the journey that once a catacomb was conquered, several new creatures would emerge from it. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They could stay inside, but they would only need a few days to hide there. They could come out once the war was over because if they didn''t, they would be swept in an unknown direction. The only problem was the monsters inside the catacombs. The numbers are likely to be doubled. And they needed to defend themselves against them while inside hiding. Before Volk could delve deep to his own thoughts, a powerful, authoritative voice broke through the laughter, commanding immediate silence. "Bloodfang Clan, prepare to go inside the catacombs first!" It was the voice of the Bloodfang Chieftain, who had grown tired of the mockery. The other clans instantly straightened up, the jovial mood vanishing as the seriousness of the situation set in once more. The entrance to the catacombs loomed ahead like a gaping maw, dark and foreboding. It seemed to call out to them, promising safety while hiding its true dangers. The Bloodfang warriors moved to the front, preparing to enter first as ordered. But just as they were about to take their first steps into the shadowed abyss, another voice rang out, strong and filled with authority. "Wait." The voice belonged to the Chieftain of the Dreadmaw Clan, a large, powerful Orc whose presence demanded respect. . His muscles bulged beneath his armor, and his tusks gleamed with the fire of battle in his eyes. His stance was one of confidence, unshaken by the mockery or the impending danger. The other Orc clans turned to face him, their curiosity piqued. The Bloodfang Chieftain raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sneer. "What now, Dreadmaw? Changed your mind? Afraid of the dark?" The Dreadmaw Chieftain took a slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes locked on the Bloodfangs. His voice, though calm, carried a weight that silenced any lingering laughter. "You think the catacombs will save you," he said, his tone almost mocking. "You think hiding in there will keep you safe from the Dark Elves, from their war? You''re wrong. The catacombs are not the salvation you believe they are. They''re a graveyard. And if you enter without knowing the dangers, you''ll never come out again." A heavy silence settled over the gathering. The other clans, once filled with bravado, now looked at each other with uncertainty. The laughter immediately disappeared, replaced by the cold reality of the hairs on their shoulders. The Dreadmaw Chieftain''s words hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over their hopes of survival. The Bloodfang Chieftain narrowed his eyes, his sneer fading into a grim line. "Then what do you suggest, Dreadmaw? If not the catacombs, where? The Warlocks and Witches are closing in. We have no other options." The Dreadmaw Chieftain met his gaze, unflinching. "There are other ways to survive. But running blindly into the dark is not one of them. You''d do well to remember that." Volk felt a surge of pride and relief as his Chieftain spoke, standing tall against the mockery of the other clans. Perhaps there was still hope after all. As long as they had their wits and their strength, they could find a way to survive¡ªeven if it meant facing the horrors of the catacombs. The Bloodfang Chieftain hesitated for a moment, his pride warring with the reality of their situation. Then, with a reluctant nod, he turned to his warriors. "We''ll see about that, Dreadmaw. We''ll see." And with that, the Bloodfangs began to march into the catacombs, their footsteps echoing into the darkness. Chapter 81: Duel again? As the Bloodfang Clan moved toward the entrance of the catacombs, Grounad, the mightiest warrior of the Bloodfangs in their younger generation, paused. His massive frame loomed over the crowd, and his eyes narrowed as he shifted his gaze toward the Dreadmaw Clan. There was something simmering in his mind, something that was eating his head ever since the first mention of the catacombs. He finally spoke, with his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. "Hold on!" Grounad''s deep voice echoed across the gathered Orcs, halting their movements. "The Dreadmaw Clan¡ªthey''re not as weak as you think. Let us have a discussion first." This sudden proclamation sent a ripple through the other Orc clans. The murmurs started immediately, the confusion spreading like wildfire. The Thunderstrike Clan, known for their speed and agility, were the first to exchange looks of surprise. "The Dreadmaw?" one of them whispered, disbelief clear in his voice. "The hunter Orcs? They''re nothing but trackers and forest scouts. How could they possibly¡ªforget it! Just enter Bloodfangs! We still have a lot of preparation once inside!" The Fireblood Clan, always prone to heated tempers, interrupted the murmurings with their fiery skepticism. "Why do we need to care? And the hunter clan? Completing a dungeon? Are you joking? The Dreadmaws are better at hiding than fighting!" The Ironhide Clan leader snorted, his thick armor creaking as he shifted his weight. "They''ve barely survived out here as it is. If they''re trying to claim victory in a dungeon, they''re either lying or desperate. Which is it, young Bloodfang?" But Grounad, unwavering, stood tall. His eyes gleamed as he continued, "Yes. They completed the dungeon. Volk, their warrior, did it. The Dreadmaw Clan finished the dungeon, and we didn''t mean to keep quiet about it because of the looming threat of the Warlocks" The reaction was immediate. The murmurs exploded into full-blown discussions, each clan now buzzing with disbelief. Orcs from every tribe began talking over one another, some in shock, others in outright denial. It was as if a secret had been spilled that no one could believe. The Stonefist Clan, known for their brute strength and straightforward attitudes, were visibly perplexed. One of their warriors, a massive brute named Kragnar, scratched his head and turned to his fellow clansmen. "The Dreadmaw? Completing a dungeon? That doesn''t make sense. They hunt beasts, not Warlocks. And Volk? I thought he was barely more than a hunter himself." Discover magic on m_v_l_e_m_p_y_r The Shadowclaw Clan, silent and deadly as always, muttered in hushed tones from the shadows where they preferred to linger. One of their assassins, a wiry Orc with sharp eyes, whispered, "If they completed it, why didn''t they boast about it sooner? No Orc would pass up the chance to claim such a victory. It''s in our blood. What are they hiding?" The skepticism spread even further among the other Orcs, each clan sharing their doubts and disbelief. "That Labor Orc, of all people?" one of the Thunderstrike Clan Orcs said. "He doesn''t look like a warrior, not even a dungeon crawler. There''s no way he could''ve faced down the dangers of a dungeon. Not without help." But Grounad, unbothered by their disbelief, continued, "You heard me right. The Dreadmaw Clan completed the dungeon, and they''ve earned the right to be here just as much as any of us. In fact, more than that¡ªthey should have first access to the catacombs. They earned it." Another wave of shock rippled through the Orcs. The Bloodfang Clan, the fiercest and most battle-hardened of the tribes, exchanged incredulous glances. Their Chieftain, still standing near the entrance of the catacombs, frowned deeply. His pride, so carefully built over years of battle and victory, bristled at the thought of a lesser clan taking precedence over them. "First access?" the Bloodfang Chieftain scoffed. "You''re suggesting we let the Dreadmaw Clan go first? This isn''t some kind of charity! They''re hunters, trackers, nothing more. They don''t deserve to lead." Grounad''s gaze sharpened, and he squared his shoulders as he fixed his eyes on Volk. His voice was steady but laced with challenge. "But they did lead. Volk led them. And they survived the dungeon. It''s no longer about who deserves what. It''s about what they''ve earned." Volk''s heart raced as all eyes turned toward him. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, and he could feel the tension thickening in the air. He knew what was coming¡ªhe could sense it in the way Grounad looked at him, in the way the other clans muttered amongst themselves. This wasn''t going to end with words. Grounad took a deep breath, his massive chest rising and falling before he shouted, "As saying goes, it seems they don''t like it. However, how about let''s prove them? By settling this the old way, Volk? Let''s have a battle." Grounad''s eyes gleamed with ferocity, his voice rising to a near roar as he bellowed, "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" At the sound of those ancient words, the entire gathering of Orcs fell silent. Every clan¡ªBloodfang, Ironhide, Thunderstrike, Fireblood, Stonefist, Shadowclaw, and even the Dreadmaw¡ªfroze, their collective breath held as the challenge echoed through the clearing. Kornuum Drhakar¡ªthe sacred duel. A battle of honor and strength, where only one warrior could emerge victorious. It was a call that could not be ignored, a challenge that, once issued, had to be answered. The Thunderstrike Clan exchanged nervous glances, their agility and speed useless in such a sacred, brute-force contest. The Ironhide Clan, though tough as stone, remained stoic, knowing full well the gravity of the challenge. The Fireblood Clan muttered amongst themselves, their fiery tempers flaring at the idea of such a monumental event unfolding right in front of them. "Kornuum Drhakar?" one of the Stonefist Clan grumbled, his deep voice barely audible over the stunned silence. "This is serious now. This isn''t just about pride. This is a fight for dominance." The Shadowclaw Clan, ever the quiet observers, slunk further into the shadows, their whispers barely audible. "Grounad''s calling for blood. This isn''t just a scuffle. He means to prove who deserves to lead." Volk felt his muscles tense, his mind racing. The call to Kornuum Drhakar was no small thing¡ªit was a test of not just strength but will. A test of leadership. To refuse would be to dishonor himself and his entire clan. But to accept... to accept was to invite a fight that could either solidify his clan''s position or doom them all. He stepped forward, his heart pounding but his voice steady. "So, it seems not all Orcs are shameless like those around and the Bloodfang Clans are not one of them," he said. The other clans were speechless. "And you really want to settle this now, huh?" Volk''s eyes locked onto Grounad''s, and he could feel the eyes of every clan watching them. "Let''s go, then. KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" The Orcs around them shifted, eyes wide, whispers turning into shocked exclamations. "A Kornuum Drhakar! Between the Dreadmaw and Bloodfang Clans?" "This is madness! Unknown Labor Orc named Volk against Grounad? Can the Labor Orc even survive?" sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "The hunter against the warrior¡ªthis will be a bloodbath!" The tension was palpable, the air thick with the anticipation of violence. All eyes were fixed on Volk and Grounad, one could see their forms looming over the others as they squared off. Both of them felt as though the world had shrunk down to just the two of them. But just as they prepared to clash, muscles tensed, and fists clenched, a voice screamed through the air, louder than either of them. "STOOOOOOOOP!" The shout tore through the gathered Orcs like a thunderclap, freezing both Volk and Grounad in their tracks. All eyes turned toward the source of the voice. Who was that? Chapter 82: Ground Bull The moment the voice echoed across the tense battlefield, all eyes turned toward the source, and to everyone''s surprise, it wasn''t a chieftain or a warrior stepping forward to halt the inevitable clash between Volk and Grounad. It was an elf¡ªa slender, fierce woman dressed in the sturdy armor of the Ironhide Clan. Her long, silver hair shimmered under the light, contrasting starkly with her dark eyes, filled with a storm of fury. "Are you all out of your damn minds?!" she shouted. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Her hands trembled with anger, fists clenched tightly as she strode forward, pushing past Orcs who were easily three times her size. "Look at you! Brawling like common animals when the Warlocks and Dark Elves are breathing down our necks! This is madness!" The Orcs collectively flinched at her words, though more in irritation than guilt. Murmurs spread through the crowd, and the initial shock of seeing an elf command the attention of so many Orcs quickly turned to annoyance. But the elf was undeterred, her rage only building as she continued. "You''re so obsessed with your pride and your stupid honor! You brutes, you''ll kill each other before the real enemy even has a chance! While you''re all busy beating each other senseless, the Warlocks and Dark Elves will swoop in and finish you off like the brainless cattle you are!" She spat on the ground in disgust, her sharp gaze darting between the leaders of each clan. Volk and Grounad stood motionless for a moment, blinking as if they couldn''t quite believe what they were hearing. The rest of the Orcs, however, were far less restrained. A low rumble of anger spread through the crowd, and several Orcs bared their teeth, their fists clenched at their sides. One of the Fireblood Clan Orcs, a burly warrior with a scar running down his cheek, growled under his breath, "Who does this elf think she is? Talking to us like that. We''re in the middle of a Kornuum Drhakar! It''s sacred!" The Stonefist Clan, ever known for their brutish strength and stubbornness, were even less kind. One of their warriors, a massive Orc with arms like tree trunks, grunted, "Shut your mouth, elf! This is Orc business! Kornuum Drhakar cannot be stopped by the likes of you! Go back to your trees!" The anger in the crowd grew, and several Orcs shouted their agreement, voices rising into a cacophony of jeers. "Go back to the forest, elf! This is sacred!" "Do not meddle in Orc traditions!" "Who gave you the right to speak here?!" The elf''s lips curled into a sneer, and her eyes were obviously blazing with fury as the Orcs hurled their insults at her. But before she could retort, a deep, booming voice cut through the noise, silencing the crowd in an instant. "Enough!" It was the Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan, a towering figure with skin as tough and scarred as the iron for which his clan was named. His voice was like the grind of stone on metal, and when he spoke, even the most defiant Orcs lowered their heads, their anger tempered by his sheer presence. The chieftain stepped forward, his gaze locking onto the elf. There was a moment of tension, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them before he spoke again, this time softer, though no less commanding. "She is right." The Orcs exploded with outrage. "What?" one from the Bloodfang Clan spat, his voice filled with disbelief. "Right about what?! This is Kornuum Drhakar!" Others from the Thunderstrike Clan and Shadowclaw Clan joined in, their disbelief turning into curses and shouted objections. "She knows nothing of our ways!" cried a warrior from the Stonefist Clan. "What do you mean she''s right?!" "She''s not even one of us!" an Orc from the Fireblood Clan snarled, his hand inching toward the hilt of his blade. The chieftain raised his hand, silencing them once more. His eyes, deep and unreadable, scanned the crowd before he continued. "She is my wife and she is right about one thing. The Warlocks and Dark Elves are hunting us as we speak. And a battle between two warriors of the fifth Mag''Durotan will be long, drawn out." His voice was low but firm, each word a stone dropped into the collective anger of the crowd. "The Warlocks will not wait for this sacred duel to end. And while we may hold our traditions dear, we cannot ignore the danger at our gates. A battle like this¡­ could cost us time we do not have." The Orcs grumbled in discontent, but the chieftain''s words carried weight, and they knew it. Still, the anger did not dissipate easily, and many continued to cast dark glares toward the elf. The chieftain turned back to the crowd, his face stern. "But the elf is not entirely correct, either. Our traditions matter. Kornuum Drhakar cannot be stopped, and we will not let anyone disrespect what is sacred to us. But there is another way. A way that both honors our traditions and saves time." The Orcs waited, confused. The Ironhide Chieftain glanced around before letting out a sharp whistle. Woyowiiiiiiit! Moments later, the ground trembled slightly as something massive approached. The crowd parted as a gigantic beast appeared¡ªa Ground Bull, its thick hide like stone and its eyes burning with primal strength. The massive beast snorted, shaking the earth with each step. "This is Tomorrowhawk, my Ground Bull." The chieftain spoke with pride, his voice booming as he laid a hand on the beast''s thick, scarred hide. "It took me three years to tame this beast. Three years of breaking bones, of bruises, of near-death experiences. Tomorrowhawk was not easily broken. But now, he stands here, my most trusted companion in battle. "His hide is tougher than iron, his strength unmatched by any creature in the wild. He has trampled entire battalions under his feet, leaving nothing but devastation in his wake." The Orcs watched in awe as Tomorrowhawk snorted, stomping the ground impatiently. "But his true strength is not in his size or his power. No. It''s in his instincts. Tomorrowhawk senses weakness like no other. "He can find the weakest member of any group and strike them down without mercy. That is how he has survived every battle, how he has won every fight. He always targets the weakest first." The Orcs stared at the beast with a mixture of admiration and trepidation. They knew the strength of Ground Bulls, but to see one this massive, this disciplined¡ªit was awe-inspiring. The chieftain smiled darkly. "So, how about we let Tomorrowhawk decide? Instead of dragging out a long, drawn-out battle between Volk and Grounad, we''ll let my Ground Bull choose the victor. "Whoever Tomorrowhawk attacks first¡ªhe is the weakest. He is the one who loses." The Orcs murmured among themselves, the proposal shocking and unexpected. But as they glanced at Tomorrowhawk''s massive form, some began to nod in agreement. It was a fair alternative¡ªone that would save time and blood. Volk, his face still tense from the challenge, looked at the Ground Bull and then at Grounad. Suddenly, a new mission would occur. Ding! | Mission: Win the contest. | Reward: Unknown. | Failure: Complete annihilation of the Dreadmaw Clan elves! | He froze, a mission? Volk had a terrible feeling of wasting time, so after he failed the last mission and thought for a moment, he immediately stepped forward. His voice was steady, though his heart was thumping heavily. Stay connected with m|vl|e|mp|y|r "Alright. Let''s do it. Let that beefcake decide." Grounad''s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting Volk to agree so quickly. For a moment, he hesitated, as if his pride were warring with the practicality of the situation. But eventually, he too nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Fine. Let''s see who Tomorrowhawk finds worthy." The chieftain of the Ironhide Clan grinned, clearly pleased with the outcome. He turned to the crowd and raised his arms. "Since both warriors have agreed, then let it be so! Tomorrowhawk will decide!" After that, he tapped the butt of the bull and said, "Yip! Yip!" Chapter 83: Got it! At the back of the Dreadmaw Clan, a raucous laughter erupted from a small group of Orcs, led by Grashk and Grok''Thar, Volk''s catacomb last time companions. They stood tall, arms crossed, with wide grins plastered across their scarred faces as they eyed the massive Ground Bull stomping its hooves in the dirt. "Look at that poor bull," Grashk chortled, his deep voice carrying over the murmurs of the gathered Orcs. "Doesn''t stand a chance against Volk! It''s like sending a rabbit to fight a mountain!" "Aye!" Grok''Thar boomed in agreement, slapping his thick thigh with a resounding smack. "Volk''s the strongest there is! This is a waste of time. Grounad''s just delaying the inevitable!" The other Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan burst into hearty laughter, their confidence in Volk unshakable. They knew something the other Orcs didn''t¡ªa secret advantage that had saved their lives countless times before. Beasts, whether inside the cursed catacombs or roaming the wilds, instinctively avoided Volk. The beasts in the catacombs fear him because they think of him as a more terrifying creature due to his ability to carry hazardous magic particles within his body. Discover stories at m|v|l|e|mp|y|r Yes! His dense, hazardous aura as a Labor Orc makes him something unnatural¡ªsomething that even the most ferocious creatures fear to touch. Whether they see him as dirty or stronger, the result is the same: both are scared of him. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Grashk leaned forward, smirking, as he called out, "Hey Grounad! You better start praying to whatever gods you believe in! Volk''s gonna send that bull running with its tail between its legs, and you''re gonna be left in the dust!" "You''re wasting your time, Grounad!" Grok''Thar chimed in, his voice dripping with mockery. "Volk''s been in the catacombs! He''s fought things in there that would tear that bull apart without breaking a sweat! He ain''t scared of some oversized cow!" The cheers and taunts echoed louder, carried by the wind to the other Orc clans. The warriors of the Bloodfang, Fireblood, and Thunderstrike Clans turned their heads, watching the Dreadmaw Orcs with skeptical frowns. They couldn''t help but wonder where this surge of confidence came from. One of the warriors from the Thunderstrike Clan, known for their sharp tongues, muttered to his companion, "Are they serious? That Labor Orc? I thought he was just lucky to survive. Now they''re saying he''s some kind of beast whisperer?" "Luck or not," his companion growled, his eyes narrowing, "no one messes with the Ground Bull. Grounad has this in the bag. I don''t care how confident those Dreadmaw Orcs sound. That Labor Orc Volk doesn''t stand a chance against Grounad or that beast." Back among the Dreadmaw Clan, Grashk grinned widely, his voice dripping with arrogance. "They have no idea, Grok''Thar. They don''t know what we''ve seen. That Warthog back then? Stopped dead in its tracks because of Volk''s aura. These outsiders can mock all they want. We know the truth." "Aye," Grok''Thar nodded, crossing his thick arms over his chest. "Volk ain''t just strong. He''s got that strange¡­ air about him. Animals know he''s dangerous, but they don''t see him as a threat they can fight. That''s why they back off. Even this bull''s gonna know better than to mess with him. But let them keep doubting. They''ll see soon enough." The other Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan joined in, shouting more taunts and encouragement to Volk, their boisterous voices carrying far and wide across the field. Amid the clamor, the Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan raised his hand, calling for silence. His deep, rumbling voice cut through the noise, commanding attention as he began to speak. "You may wonder why I called for this test," he began, pacing slowly before the gathered clans, his thick arms clasped behind his back. "The Catacomb is no simple place to lead Orcs into. It is a realm of death, where only the strongest beasts survive. When a catacomb is conquered, the creatures within do not simply vanish. "They remain, and new creatures will emerge, battling each other until one becomes dominant¡ªuntil one species claims the title of apex predator. And what happens then? They are sent to another dimension. "So when we enter, we will face those threats. That''s why we need the strongest to lead us through it." He paused, letting his words sink in as the Orcs nodded in agreement. They had all heard stories of the Catacombs, some even having ventured in themselves. They knew the dangers all too well. The chieftain continued, his voice low and steady. "The rules are simple: neither Volk nor Grounad must be attacked by the Ground Bull. They can do whatever they wish to avoid the bull''s wrath¡ªscare it, demen on it, or outwit it. But the one who is attacked first is the one who loses. "This test will decide who among them is truly the strongest and who is fit to lead us." The Ground Bull, snorting impatiently, pawed at the ground with its massive hooves. Its nostrils flared as it lowered its head, horns gleaming in the light. The tension in the air thickened as the beast prepared to charge, its muscles coiling like a spring ready to release. At the back of the crowd, Grashk and Grok''Thar exchanged knowing smirks. "That bull doesn''t know what it''s up against," Grashk muttered under his breath. "Volk''s gonna make this look easy." But the other clans remained skeptical, eyeing the Ground Bull''s intimidating size and strength with apprehension. One of the warriors from the Fireblood Clan spoke up, his voice filled with doubt, "Are they really so confident in that Labor Orc? The bull looks like it could crush him without even trying." Another Orc from the Shadowclaw Clan added, "I don''t know what they''re thinking. This test is insane. But it was a fight, Grounad''s gonna tear Volk apart if the bull doesn''t get him first." Despite their doubts, the air buzzed with anticipation. All eyes turned back to the two Orcs standing in the arena. Volk and Grounad both stood ready, their muscles tense, eyes locked on the Ground Bull that now scraped its hooves against the dirt, preparing for its charge. The Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan stepped forward, his gaze shifting between the two warriors. His voice rang out, clear and authoritative. "Volk! Grounad! Are you both ready?" Both Orcs nodded, their jaws set in determination. The tension crackled between them like lightning before a storm. The chieftain raised his arm high, the signal ready to be given. "Then on my mark¡­" His voice dropped to a low growl as the Ground Bull snorted, its eyes fixed on the two Orcs. "Go!" he roared, swinging his arm down. The Ground Bull let out a thunderous bellow, and with a sudden burst of speed, it charged forward, the earth trembling beneath its massive hooves. The beast''s eyes were wild, searching, ready to choose its first target. At that moment, the crowd held its breath, waiting for the Ground Bull''s decision¡ªwaiting to see who would emerge victorious and who would face the beast''s wrath. Would it be Volk, with his strange aura that had saved them before? Or would it be Grounad, the fierce warrior who stood unflinching in the face of danger? The answer lay in the charge of the beast, and in the silence that followed its thunderous rumbling steps. Chapter 84: Bloodfang Clan Ability The air in the made up arena of crowded Orcs and Elves was thick with tension as the massive Ground Bull snorted, its breath coming out in heavy puffs of steam. Its massive hooves dug into the dirt, ready to charge. Suddenly, Volk took a deep breath, his muscles tightening, and with a swift motion, he stomped his feet against the ground. BANG! The sound echoed like a thunderclap, silencing the murmurs of the gathered Orcs. The Ground Bull, towering and ferocious beasts just moments before, suddenly froze in place. Its eyes locked onto Volk, but something had changed. For the first time, the beast looked¡­ afraid? A collective gasp swept through the Orc clans. "What the hell?!" an Orc from the Thunderstrike Clan exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief. "Did that bull just¡­ stop?" "Is it scared of him?" another one from the Bloodfang Clan muttered, his brow furrowed. "No way, how could a Labor Orc do that? He didn''t even use an ability!" The Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan narrowed his eyes, watching intently as the scene unfolded. Even he had not expected this. "This can''t be right," he muttered under his breath. His gaze shifted from the bull to Volk, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his usually stoic face. "How can a simple stomp from a Labor Orc cause the Ground Bull to hesitate?" The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, Orcs from all the clans looking at each other with wide eyes, trying to make sense of what they were witnessing. The Dreadmaw Clan, previously mocked and belittled, now stood with newfound confidence. Grashk grinned, his tusks gleaming in the dim light. "Told ya," he said, nudging Grok''Thar in the ribs. "That bull knows what''s good for it. Volk''s got something special about him. Always has." "He didn''t even break a sweat," Grok''Thar added, chuckling. "This is gonna be over before it even starts. Grounad''s got nothing on Volk!" From across the field, the other Orc clans watched with growing disbelief. An Orc from the Stonefist Clan crossed his arms, his voice filled with skepticism. "A Labor Orc? Really? That beast''s afraid of a Labor Orc?" "Impossible," a warrior from the Fireblood Clan muttered. "Volk didn''t even use magic or power. It was just¡­ a stomp." The Ironhide Chieftain, still taken aback by what had happened, tried to maintain his composure. "The bull''s probably confused, that''s all," he reasoned quietly to himself. But deep inside, even he was starting to doubt. This was no ordinary Orc standing before them, and now the entire arena could feel it. The bull, however, wasn''t done. Despite its fear, it seemed to shake off its hesitation and turned its massive head toward Grounad. The beast''s nostrils flared as if realizing it didn''t need to confront Volk after all. Its eyes locked onto Grounad, and with a furious snort, it began to shift its weight, ready to charge. "Wait, what''s happening?" one of the warriors from the Thunderstrike Clan asked, his voice barely containing his surprise. "The bull''s turning away from Volk¡­ Is Grounad really the weaker one?" "No way," an Orc from the Bloodfang Clan scoffed. "Grounad''s a Kaz''rogal! One of our mightiest warriors! There''s no way that bull''s choosing him over some Labor Orc. This doesn''t make any sense!" The murmurs grew louder, the shock spreading like wildfire through the crowd. "Did you see that?" one Orc whispered to his companion. "The bull looked scared of Volk¡­ and now it''s going for Grounad? Does that mean¡­ Volk is stronger?" Another Orc, this time from the Shadowclaw Clan, muttered, "Grounad''s not weaker¡­ is he?" Grounad, for his part, felt all eyes were on him. His heart thrump fast as the bull turned in his direction. He had never imagined that Volk could be stronger than him¡ªVolk, the Labor Orc. This was supposed to be a simple challenge, an opportunity to prove his dominance over the Dreadmaw Clan once and for all. But now¡­ now it felt like everything was slipping out of his control. With no other choice, Grounad clenched his fists. His eyes burned with determination. "I won''t lose to a Labor Orc," he growled under his breath. And then, with a swift motion, Grounad activated his Bloodfang ability. The temperature around him shifted dramatically, the air growing cold and then sweltering hot in an instant. His skin seemed to glow with an inner heat as the blood within him surged, giving him a terrifying, otherworldly presence. His muscles bulged, and the very earth beneath him seemed to tremble with his raw power. The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted into murmurs once again. "The Bloodfang ability¡­" one Orc whispered. "He''s changing the temperature of his own blood. He''s manipulating it to make himself more imposing." "That''s what makes the Bloodfang Clan so dangerous," another Orc muttered. "They can control their blood, make themselves more intimidating, more powerful. It''s like their very presence can crush you." "Look at Grounad now," an Elf from the Dreadmaw Clan observed, her voice dripping with disdain. "He thinks that pressure will scare Volk. But he doesn''t understand, does he? That bull isn''t going to stop just because he looks scarier now." Even Volk could feel the shift in the air. As much as he hated to admit it, Grounad''s new form was far more intimidating. The temperature changed, the pressure¡ªit was like standing next to a furnace that was ready to explode. But Volk wasn''t about to back down. Not now. Read today on m,v,l,e,mpyr The Ground Bull, however, seemed to reconsider. Its eyes flickered back to Volk, torn between fear and duty. It was clear the bull didn''t want to face Volk, but with Grounad standing there, pulsing with power, the beast had no choice. It snorted loudly and turned back toward Volk. The crowd erupted into laughter. "Look at that!" a warrior from the Frostbite Clan shouted. "The bull''s going back for Volk! It knows Grounad''s stronger!" "The Labor Orc''s in over his head," another Orc yelled. "He doesn''t belong here! This isn''t a task for someone like him. He should be out breaking rocks, not trying to lead warriors!" The taunts grew louder and louder, with Orcs from nearly every clan mocking Volk. "He thought he could scare the bull with a little stomp, huh? Look at him now! He''s gonna get flattened!" "A Labor Orc trying to act like a leader," one of the Elves sneered. "This is why the Dreadmaw Clan is a joke. They''re nothing compared to the rest of us." Amid the cacophony of jeers and insults, the Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan stood silently, his arms crossed over his broad chest. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had seen this coming. Although he was surprised that his Tomorrowhawk Bull was scared of Volk at first, he knew this would end like this. He had arranged this entire challenge knowing exactly how it would play out. The Dreadmaw Clan was a nuisance, a group he had long since lost respect for. By letting them take this test, he was certain they would fail¡ªand in doing so, lose whatever little standing they had left. Volk glanced over at the Ironhide Chieftain, his sharp eyes reading the subtle smirk on the man''s face. He wasn''t a fool¡ªhe knew this was all a setup, a ploy to embarrass him and his clan. But Volk wasn''t about to give in. He was stronger than that. He''d survived worse. He locked eyes with the chieftain and asked, "The goal was to see who would get hit first, right?" The Ironhide Chieftain''s smirk deepened. "Yes, that''s right," he replied, his voice smooth and calculated. Volk''s gaze hardened. He turned back to the bull, his resolve firm. "So be it." S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 85: Charging Beef The entire crowd fell silent, watching Volk with intense curiosity. His every move seemed calculated, each step taken with purpose, yet there was still a question looming in everyone''s minds: What was he going to do now? What can he do now? Is he gonna make it? Or he can complain? Volk''s expression remained calm, now his eyes were glancing a little between the massive Tomorrowhawk bull and Grounad. Then, almost as if a spark had ignited in his mind, he remembered something from the head of the body he occupied¡ªa core trait of the Dreadmaw Clan, the very essence of their unique abilities. The Dreadmaw Clan''s innate gift was infamous, albeit in a strange and often underestimated way. While many Orc clans boasted powerful combat techniques, unrivaled strength, or mystical abilities, the Dreadmaw Clan had developed something entirely different. Their ability, passed down through generations, was tied to their role as hunters. The Dreadmaw Orcs could taste food and instantly determine if it was safe. This wasn''t some trivial skill for a weak-stomached Orc¡ªit was a survival trait, a gift that allowed them to forage through dangerous, poison-ridden lands and find nourishment where others would starve. Volk''s jaw clenched. ''That ability is useless now,'' he muttered. ''But knowing that I could use an ability means I have something like that in me. It''s not from the clan; it''s from my beloved... system,'' he added confidently. Cracking his neck, Volk would hear his surrounding murmurs. "What? Is he going to taste the bull?" an Orc from the Fireblood Clan sneered, laughing heartily. "Does he think his fancy jaw is going to save him now?" "Right!" another Orc from the Thunderstrike Clan added. "What''s he gonna do? Take a bite and decide if the bull is safe to eat or not? HA!" The crowd burst into laughter, the mocking voices coming from all corners. Orcs jeered and pointed, unable to fathom how Volk''s clan''s ability could be of any use in a situation like this. "Maybe he''ll offer the bull a snack," an Elf from the Bloodfang Clan scoffed, and she was crossing her arms as if she was looking down at Volk. "After all, they''re known for hunting, not fighting! This is just pathetic." Despite the insults being hurled his way, Volk''s expression didn''t change. He had long grown used to these taunts. The Dreadmaw Clan had always been seen as odd by the other Orc clans. Their abilities were essential for hunting and survival, but in the eyes of the battle-hardened Orc warriors, it was seen as a weakness. But they didn''t understand. Suddenly, Volk''s muscles tensed as his body started to emit a faint, eerie glow. His radioactive particles began to stir, his energy spiking. His plan had always been to rely on his Radioactive form, an ability that had allowed him to command respect from beasts, avoid attacks, and take down even the most formidable foes. But just as he was about to fully transform, the Ironhide Chieftain''s voice rang out, loud and sharp. "Turning into your Grum-gar form is forbidden!" the chieftain declared with authority. "If you do, you''ll be declared the loser!" Volk''s brow furrowed in frustration as he glanced over at the Ironhide Chieftain. The man''s smug face was almost unbearable. He was clearly manipulating the rules, setting Volk up for failure. The chieftain''s eyes held a mocking gleam, and Volk could feel the weight of this setup pressing down on him. Discover the saga at m-vl-em-pyr Grounad, standing tall beside the bull, grinned ever so slightly, as if amused by Volk''s predicament. "I won''t move a muscle," he said, loud enough for all to hear. "Do whatever you like, Volk. This bull''s going to run you down no matter what." A thought struck Volk at that moment. Move? His eyes narrowed as something clicked in his mind. Without hesitation, his lips curled into a smirk. ''You really want me to use that, huh?'' He started walking forward, casually, without a hint of worry, positioning himself directly between Grounad and the Tomorrowhawk bull. The crowd went wild, their voices filling the air with disbelief. "What''s he doing?" an Orc from the Stonefist Clan shouted. "Is he¡­ walking in front of Grounad?" "Does he not realize what that bull is capable of?" a warrior from the Thunderstrike Clan muttered. "He''s just standing there, like a fool!" "He doesn''t know the Tomorrowhawk bull is about to tear him apart!" an Orc from the Fireblood Clan scoffed. "That thing can triple its speed! He doesn''t stand a chance!" More voices chimed in, the jeers and taunts growing louder as the Orcs from various clans began discussing Volk''s seemingly foolish move. "Does he really think he can stop the bull by just standing there?" another Orc scoffed. "He can''t even transform! Without the Grum-gar form, he''s going to be torn to pieces." "It''s suicide," an Elf muttered, shaking her head. "He doesn''t stand a chance against that beast''s charge. No ability, no transformation, just¡­ what? Standing there? Laughable." In the midst of the mockery, Grounad''s voice cut through the noise, low and dark. "Volk, if you manage to avoid the bull and I''m hit instead," he began, his tone almost mocking. "I''ll do more than admit defeat. I''ll recognize you as my Warchief¡­ and transfer myself to the Dreadmaw Clan." The entire crowd burst into laughter, the idea too absurd for anyone to take seriously. "Grounad, submitting to a Labor Orc?" one Orc cackled. "Now that''s rich!" "Him, a Bloodfang warrior, joining Dreadmaw? The weakest of all the clans? HA!" "It''ll never happen," an Elf scoffed, rolling her eyes. "He''s as good as dead if he thinks that bull won''t crush him." But Volk, his expression calm and composed, replied simply, "So be it. Although I have no use for weaklings like the members of Bloodfang Clan, it would be fun to see one of them submit and kneel down in my presence." The crowd was shocked when they heard that. "What did he say?!" The Orcs from the Bloodfang Clan would mutter. "Heh! So arrogant, a mere hunter Clan," the elves of the Bloodfang Clan would sneer. Volk knew listening to them would give him nothing, so he immediately turned his attention to the bull, with his presence immediately changed as if it was steady as a rock. The Tomorrowhawk bull, clearly hesitant, snorted in frustration. Its massive hooves stomped the ground, kabooff! creating small clouds of dust as it prepared itself for the charge. With much reluctance, the bull let out a final, frustrated bellow and began to move forward. Grounad watched, grinning as the bull gathered speed, fully confident that this would end in Volk''s demise. The crowd tensed, eyes wide with anticipation as the massive beast charged straight toward Volk. The bull''s movements were swift, almost a blur as it picked up momentum, its speed doubling in an instant. Swoosh! The ground shook beneath the weight of its charge, dust swirling around as it barreled toward Volk. The crowd could barely keep up with the bull''s speed, their collective breath held as they watched the beast close in on its target. And then¡­ Swoosh! The bull tripled its speed, a blur of muscle, horns, and fury. The massive beast thundered forward, its path set, its horns gleaming as it charged straight at Volk. The crowd''s eyes widened, gasps filling the air as they watched in stunned silence. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The bull was mere moments from hitting Volk, the force of its charge powerful enough to break bone and tear flesh. And yet, Volk remained perfectly still, his calm, steady figure casting a shadow in the path of the oncoming beast. Just as the bull was about to make contact, the entire arena fell silent. Chapter 86: What just happened? The moment the bull made contact, time seemed to slow down for everyone watching. Kaboom! The bull didn''t simply collide with its target¡ªit lifted Grounad clean off his feet, as if he weighed nothing, and then, as if it was angry at Grounad''s very existence, he slammed him into the ground with a thunderous kabooming crashing sound! The impact sent tremors through the earth, creating dust and massive crack down the ground, making the crowd of Orcs and Elves recoil in shock. But the real shock came not from the sheer power of the bull''s attack, but from who was actually struck. Every eye widened in disbelief. "It... It hit Grounad?!" gasped an Orc from the Bloodfang Clan. "What in the world just happened?!" an Elf muttered, shaking her head in confusion. "I thought Volk was the one who was hit?" Another elf from other Orc Clan spoke. The massive Tomahawk bull, with its hooves still raised, snorted angrily, oblivious to the stunned reactions of the crowd. Grounad, who should have been standing victorious, was instead the one beneath the bull''s fury. His armor dented from the initial blow, he let out a blood-choked cough, spitting crimson onto the dirt. Cough! His body shook with the effort, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. But the bull wasn''t finished. Without a moment''s hesitation, it reared back once more. Slam! The bull brought Grounad down again with tremendous force, his body bouncing off the ground like a ragdoll. The crowd flinched, even the hardened Orcs grimacing at the sight of the brutal punishment. Slam! Slam! Slam! Three more times, the bull pounded Grounad into the earth, each impact more violent and more destructive than the last. The final slam left him sprawled, his limbs twitching, his eyes rolled back in his head. His once-imposing figure now looked pathetic, broken. Blood pooled around his battered form, and with every labored breath, a spray of blood and saliva splattered onto the ground. The Orc and Elf crowd gasped as one. "How did this happen?" whispered an Elf with wide eyes. "Grounad''s supposed to be stronger than him!" "He''s unconscious!" another Orc exclaimed, his face pale with shock. "The bull... it''s going to kill him!" The Ironhide Chieftain had a look of realization flash across his face as he finally noticed what had happened. His eyes darted across the battlefield, searching for Volk, the supposed target of the bull''s wrath. But Volk... wasn''t where he was supposed to be. He was standing off to the side, casually, as if he were just another spectator. His arms crossed, his expression impassive. He stood there, as though the scene unfolding before him was no more than a passing interest. "STOP! STOP!!" the Ironhide Chieftain roared, his voice filled with panic as he waved his arms. He knew that if the bull continued, it would crush Grounad into nothingness. "HIYIP! HIYIP!!" The bull snorted in response, shaking its head, reluctant to obey but finally stepping away from Grounad, its massive horns lowering as if to apologize for the damage it had done. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the battered form of Grounad lay motionless on the ground, his body twitching slightly, his once-proud form reduced to a broken heap. For a moment, all eyes were on the Ironhide Chieftain, but then, slowly, the crowd''s attention shifted back to Volk. Whispers spread through the gathered Orcs and Elves, disbelief painting their faces. "What... just happened?" an Orc from the Stonefist Clan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Did... did he dodge that?" "But he didn''t move! He was right there!" an Elf exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. "The bull should''ve hit him! How did he just... disappear?" "Was it magic? Did someone feel any kind of magic?" another Orc questioned, his eyes darting around. "There was no magic! I didn''t see anything!" "What did he do?" someone else murmured, the question spreading through the crowd like wildfire. The whispers grew louder, as every Orc and Elf tried to piece together what had happened. They had seen Volk standing directly in the bull''s path, and then... nothing. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished, and Grounad had taken the blow meant for him. "I didn''t even see him move," one Elf muttered, looking around at his companions in confusion. "Neither did I," an Orc agreed, scratching his head. "What the hell did he do?" The disbelief only deepened as more voices joined the murmurs. No one could understand how Volk had evaded the bull. Theories ranged from teleportation to some sort of Grum-gar ability, but none seemed to fit. Meanwhile, Volk stood quietly, ignoring the questions swirling around him. He knew exactly what had happened, but there was no need to explain. Read the next part on m|vl-e-mpyr The system had gifted him with an ability known as Sidestep, allowing him to vanish from one place and reappear in another in an instant. It was a perfect escape for situations just like this, but he had no intention of revealing his secret to the crowd. As the Orcs and Elves continued their chatter, Volk finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. "Can we go first now?" The question sent a wave of confusion through the crowd. They had barely processed what had just happened, and now Volk was acting as if nothing was amiss. The Clans looked at him, bewildered, unsure of how to respond. "Go... first?" one of the Elves stammered, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just transpired. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan, however, erupted in cheers. They had seen Volk''s strength firsthand, and they knew, deep down, that their leader had triumphed. "That''s Volk!" shouted Grashk, his voice booming as he raised a fist into the air. "As fast as a bullet!" "He didn''t even need to fight! The bull couldn''t touch him!" laughed Grok''Thar, his broad grin spreading from ear to ear. "Strongest there is!" another Dreadmaw Orc that was with Volk in their visit in this catacomb roared, pounding his chest heavily. The rest of the Dreadmaw Clan joined in, their voices rising in unison as they chanted Volk''s name, celebrating their victory. The other Clans, however, were left dumbfounded. Even the proud Bloodfang Clan and the Elves from Ironhide could only stand and stare as the Dreadmaw warriors celebrated their leader. Suddenly, Volk turned toward Solluha''r, his expression softening. He reached out a hand, and Solluha''r, after a moment of hesitation, accepted it. "Let''s go," Volk said quietly. Solluha''r nodded with an unreadable expression as she followed his lead. The Dreadmaw Clan, now standing at the entrance of the Catacomb, was preparing to move forward when a familiar voice rang out through the air, cutting through the cheers. "Wait!" The crowd went silent, and all eyes turned toward the source of the voice. Standing shakily on his feet, blood dripping from his mouth, was Grounad. His face was battered, his body bruised, but his eyes were filled with a fiery determination. "I''m not... done yet," he growled, his voice ragged but defiant. The Dreadmaw Clan halted, their eyes narrowing as they turned to face their fallen adversary of Volk. The tension in the air was palpable, as the crowd waited with bated breath for what would happen next. Chapter 87: Unknown Reward The crowd was still reeling from the shocking turn of events, but before anyone could fully process what had happened, Grounad stood tall, still feeling his body battered and bruised, yet his expression was unbroken. Like a spirit knowing where it was going. Blood dripped down his mouth, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter than ever. L He turned to face the gathering of Orcs and Elves. "I may have fallen today, but I am no coward. I am no Orc who goes back on his word. From this moment forward, I am no longer a member of the Bloodfang Clan," he declared with a loud voice that echoed across the gathering. The crowd gasped. No one could believe what they were hearing. An Orc¡ªespecially one as proud as Grounad¡ªswearing allegiance to another clan was unheard of. Murmurs began to ripple through the gathered Orcs and Elves, growing louder with each passing moment. "Did he just say..." an Ironhide Orc muttered, his voice trailing off in disbelief. "He''s abandoning the Bloodfang Clan?" an Elf whispered to her companion, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Grounad, one of the strongest warriors¡ªNo! The strongest of the Bloodfang Clan in their younger generation, joining Dreadmaw?" a large Orc from the Stonefist Clan scoffed. "What madness is this?" "He gave his word, and he''s keeping it. A rare trait among Orcs these days," another Orc observed, his arms crossed as he nodded thoughtfully. But the Bloodfang Clan, Grounad''s own people, were the most shaken. The Orcs there wore expressions of betrayal, their murmurs filled with venom and disbelief. "He''s turning his back on his blood? On his own people?" one of the Bloodfang warriors spat, glaring daggers at Grounad. "Volk humiliated him, and now he''s crawling away to save face," a Bloodfang Elder muttered, shaking his head in disgust. "Pathetic." Despite the jeers and insults being thrown his way, Grounad remained stoic. His decision had been made. His eyes, however, softened when they fell upon the figure of his elven wife, Mishana, standing among the crowd. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Mishana was a striking figure among the Orcs. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, with an otherworldly glow that marked her as one of the High Elven witches. She stood tall and graceful, her flowing white hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her eyes, large and almond-shaped, were a piercing shade of emerald green, sharp with intelligence and unyielding strength. She was dressed in a combination of elven leather armor and the furs of the Orcish clans, a symbol of her unique bond with Grounad. A light breeze stirred the silver strands of her hair as she gazed back at her husband, her expression unreadable. "Mishana," Grounad called out to her, his voice softer now, filled with a rare tenderness that he reserved only for her. He walked toward her, limping slightly from the beatdown of the bull, but still strong in his resolve. "Grounad," she replied, stepping forward to meet him, her voice as smooth as silk. "Are you sure of this? To leave your clan? Your people? It''s not a decision that can be undone." Grounad nodded, his jaw set. "I gave my word, Mishana. I won''t go back on it. Not even for the Bloodfang Clan. Not even for my honor." Mishana searched his face for a moment, her sharp eyes flickering with emotion. "And what of me? What of us?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm. "If you leave, will I follow you into the Dreadmaw Clan? Will we be outcasts together?" The Orcs and Elves fell silent, listening intently to their conversation. This was more than just a decision about clans¡ªit was about family, about loyalty. Grounad reached out, gently placing his massive hand on Mishana''s cheek. "You are my wife, my partner. Where I go, you go. But... the choice is yours. If you want to remain with the Bloodfang Clan, I won''t stop you. I won''t force this on you." Mishana stood there for a moment, considering his words carefully. Her eyes flickered with a mix of emotions¡ªlove, loyalty, uncertainty. But there was also resolve in her gaze. She placed her hand over Grounad''s, her fingers delicate but strong. "Grounad, I am not one to be left behind. If you leave, then I leave with you. The Bloodfang Clan was never truly my home. You are. Wherever you go, I will follow." A murmur rippled through the crowd again, and Volk could hear every word as the Orcs and Elves speculated on what had just transpired. "She''s leaving too?" an Ironhide Elf whispered. "She''s giving up her place among the Bloodfang Clan for him?" "That''s love, I suppose," an Orc muttered, his brow furrowed. "Or foolishness," another Elf replied, shaking her head. "The Dreadmaw Clan gains a new warrior, and a High Elf no less," an Orc grumbled. "This is unprecedented." Grounad and Mishana stood together, united in their decision. They had chosen their path, and now they looked to Volk¡ªthe leader of the Dreadmaw Clan¡ªfor guidance. But when they turned their gaze toward him, they found only empty air. Volk was gone. "Where did he¡ª?" Grounad began, his voice trailing off in confusion. One of the Dreadmaw Clan warriors stepped forward, pointing toward the entrance of the catacombs. "He''s already gone inside." Grounad and Mishana exchanged a glance, their expressions both astonished and impressed. Without another word, they hurried toward the entrance, scrambling to catch up. --- Meanwhile, deep inside the catacombs, Volk stepped on through the darkness without a sense of purpose. The eerie silence of the underground passageways didn''t bother him. He had been here before. But this time, something felt different. Find exclusive tales at m-vl-em,pyr The familiar glow of the system flashed before his eyes, and he quickly checked his latest reward. Ding! | System Reward: Radioactive Wireless Connectivity. | Volk furrowed his brow, staring at the strange message. "What the hell is this?" he muttered to himself. "Is this even a thing?" He swiped the notification away, focusing instead on his surroundings. When he had entered the catacombs last time, the place had been a dark, damp maze of stone and bones. The kind of place where creatures lurked in the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting prey. But now... it was different. The cold stone walls had been replaced with lush greenery. Trees and vines grew along the walls, their roots burrowing deep into the earth. The air was warm and fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and damp soil. It was as if the catacombs had transformed into an underground forest. "What is going on?" Volk whispered, his eyes wide with surprise. He stepped forward cautiously, his instincts on high alert. This was not the place he had remembered. Something had changed within the depths of the catacombs, something unnatural. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the transformation. How could a place of death and decay turn into a living, breathing ecosystem? And more importantly¡ªwhat dangers now lurked within? As Volk ventured deeper into the unexpected greenery, the mystery of the catacombs only grew thicker, and with every step, he knew that something far more dangerous awaited them within these depths. --- Just as Volk disappeared further into the unknown, Grounad and Mishana arrived at the entrance of the catacombs, breathless and wide-eyed. "He''s already inside?" Grounad said, his voice tinged with frustration and admiration. "Then we have to hurry," Mishana replied, her eyes narrowing with determination. Together, they stepped into the green-infested depths, ready to face whatever lay ahead. Chapter 88: Foreboding feeling Outside the entrance of the catacombs, the air was tense with murmurs and discussions. The leaders of the gathered Orc clans stood in small circles, their imposing figures casting long shadows in the dim light. It was an unusual alliance: the Bloodfang Clan, the Ironhide Clan, the Thunderstrike Clan, the Stonefist Clan, the Shadowclaw Clan, the Fireblood Clan, and the Frostbite Clan. Despite the uneasy truce, none of them could hide their disdain toward the Dreadmaw Clan¡ªa clan known for its hunting prowess but not much else. "Hmph, can you believe it?" sneered Garnok, the chieftain of the Thunderstrike Clan, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "A hunter clan, of all things, is the first to enter the catacombs. They probably think tracking animals is the same as conquering dungeons." The Ironhide Chieftain, Raghur, chuckled heartily, his large frame shaking with mirth. "Hunters, not warriors, indeed. The Dreadmaw Clan may know how to stalk prey, but they know nothing of real combat. That Volk is no warrior¡ªhe''s a mere laborer! A grunt who moves rocks, not mountains." Several of the Orcs from the surrounding clans snickered, nodding in agreement. Their voices were filled with arrogance and a deep sense of superiority. "Exactly," said Brakkas, leader of the Stonefist Clan, his deep, gravelly voice carrying through the group. "The Dreadmaws are skilled in hunting beasts and scavenging, but they''ve never stood in the front lines of a true battle. They don''t have the strength or the courage for it." "Nor the bloodlust," added Zarrath, the shadowy leader of the Shadowclaw Clan, his eyes gleaming with malice. "They can sneak through forests and hide in the brush, but in the open, they are nothing. They don''t know the taste of a true kill." The Elves standing nearby, from various allied tribes, exchanged knowing glances. Stay updated with m-v le-mpyr Though their expressions were neutral, they, too, seemed to share the opinion that the Dreadmaw Clan was far beneath the other Orc clans in terms of prowess. "I''ve seen more battle spirit in a deer," an Ironhide Orc laughed, his voice thick with derision. "They''ll lose themselves in those catacombs," said another Orc from the Fireblood Clan, his massive form illuminated by the flickering flames of a nearby torch. "The moment they run into something they can''t hunt, they''ll be finished. This place isn''t a forest¡ªit''s a dungeon. It''ll eat them alive." The laughter grew louder, more boisterous. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It was clear that no one among the gathered clans took the Dreadmaw Clan seriously. To them, the Dreadmaws were barely more than a nuisance¡ªuseful for hunting and tracking, but worthless in the heat of battle or the depths of the dungeon. "Hunters, not warriors," one Frostbite Orc muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Yet, as the laughter echoed through the gathering, it was Varrok, the chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan, who broke the mirth with a deep, rumbling voice. "True, the Dreadmaws are hunters. But this Volk... there''s something different about him." The words hung in the air for a moment, silencing the mocking conversations. Varrok''s voice carried weight, for the Bloodfang Clan was among the most feared and respected of all the Orc clans. "Different?" asked Garnok, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "He''s just a labor Orc. What could possibly be different about him? Plus, it was just pure luck after all, just a simple unique skill that they accidentally discovered. Not much of a strong indication that it would alarm us." Varrok stroked his chin thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on the entrance to the catacombs, where Volk had vanished. "I''ve seen plenty of labor Orcs in my time, but none like him. He defeated Grounad, one of our strongest warriors, with... I don''t even know what he did. One moment he was there, the next, he was gone, and the bull slammed into Grounad. Do you all feep a magic?" There was a murmur of surprise and confusion among the other clan leaders. "A trick, maybe," suggested Zarrath, his voice dripping with skepticism. "A trick of the eye. The Dreadmaws are cunning hunters, after all. But they rely on deception, not strength." Varrok shook his head. "It wasn''t a deception. It was something else. He teleported. Or moved so fast that none of us could see him. Whatever it was, it''s why we lost. And I don''t think we should dismiss him so easily." A tense silence fell over the group as the words sunk in. For a moment, the arrogance faded from their expressions, replaced by something closer to wariness. But then, Raghur, the Ironhide Chieftain, burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the air. "Haha! Oh, come now, Varrok. You can''t be serious! A labor Orc from a hunter clan? Teleporting? Outpacing a Bloodfang warrior like Grounad? The Dreadmaws got lucky, that''s all. Nothing more." The laughter spread like wildfire, rolling through the gathered Orcs and Elves. "Lucky indeed! Maybe it''s because his body was made from a Labor Orc that we didn''t see or feel a disturbance of magic in the air, making it seem invisible!" one Orc from the Shadowclaw Clan cackled, slapping his knee. "Luck runs out in the dungeons, though," added another Orc from the Stonefist Clan, his laughter booming like thunder. But the laughter pause when a curious Elf, standing near the back of the group, raised a question. His voice, soft and lilting, cut through the noise like a whisper carried on the wind. "But... what if the Dreadmaw Clan reaches the bottom of the dungeon first? What if they claim the treasure that lies within? Will we follow them then? "After all, it was agreed that the Bloodfang Clan would lead us once we entered. But now that the Dreadmaw Clan has gone in first, they might take what we came for. Plus, since they are a hunter clan, aren''t they experts at hunting animals and beasts? What if they clear it before us? What will happen then? Are we going to acknowledge them as our leaders?" The question was like a sharp thin slam of whip in the air, casting a brief silence over the crowd. There was a flicker of unease among the Orcs, a moment where they seemed to consider the possibility. But it was Brakkas, the Stonefist Chieftain, who broke the silence with a derisive snort. "Follow the Dreadmaws? Hah! Impossible. They won''t make it halfway through the dungeon before they''re torn apart by the creatures within. They''re hunters, not warriors. They''ll track the beast but won''t be able to kill it." "The moment they encounter something bigger than a deer, they''ll be finished," Raghur added with a cruel smile. "Even if they did manage to find the treasure, it would be wasted on them," muttered Zarrath, his dark eyes gleaming with contempt. "They wouldn''t know what to do with it." The Elves and Orcs alike erupted in laughter once more, the sound filling the air with mocking mirth. The idea of the Dreadmaw Clan succeeding where others had failed was simply too ludicrous for them to entertain. "Impossible!" they chorused, their voices full of condescension. And so, they stood, laughing at the thought of the Dreadmaw Clan ever becoming anything more than simple hunters. The idea of them reaching the bottom of the dungeon, claiming the treasure, or leading the rest of the Orc clans was absurd to them. Completely impossible, very impossible. Chapter 89: Follower Volk stood among the Dreadmaw Clan members, watching as the Old Orcs of the clan sat in silence, suppressing the natural strength in their bodies while the Elves, their partners, held back their mana. It was a strange sight, one that felt wrong to Volk, who was part of the younger generation. The Old Orcs remained still, one could see their faces were all blank, as if waiting for something unknown. The atmosphere was tense, a quiet resolve hanging over the group. No one moved, no one spoke. Their goal, Volk reminded himself, was simple: stay in the dungeon until the war on the surface subsided. Survive. That was all they had to do, but something about it bothered him. Yes, it bothered him so much. Volk felt like this wasn''t the Dreadmaw Clan he knew¡ªhunters, trackers, fighters. They were warriors, not passive bystanders waiting for the storm to pass. Volk''s brow furrowed as he looked at everyone again to watch them suppress their physique and abilities. Maybe, just maybe, he was new to the internal workings of the Dreadmaw Clan, so he didn''t know much about them. The catacomb itself was different from what he remembered. When he had entered it last, it had been a narrow, dark space, with walls of jagged stone closing in on every side. Now, the place seems to have expanded. It was almost... alive. Lush greenery covered the once barren ground, with vines creeping up the walls. The air was thick with a strange energy, like the pulse of something vast and ancient beneath the surface. "Why is it different?" Volk muttered under his breath. "Are the beasts coming out now? Should we all prepare and not listen to the Old Orcs to stay and just be prepared?" There was a growing sense of unease inside his head, and it seemed to want to drill deep at it. Something was missing, something important. But what? Suddenly, cutting through his thoughts, a voice called out. Familiar. It seemed to resonate through the dense atmosphere of the dungeon, clear even among the silent crowd of Dreadmaw Orcs and Elves. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Volk!" At first, he thought he had imagined it. But the call came again, louder this time. "Volk!" He scanned the sea of Orcs and Elves around him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Who could it be? As his gaze swept over the crowd, his heart skipped a beat when he finally saw the source of the voice. "Grounad?" Volk whispered in disbelief. At his side, Solluha''r, his wife and his Main Nuclear Reactor, stepped forward, hugged his shoulder and followed his gaze. "Isn''t that the guy you defeated? The one from the Bloodfang Clan?" Volk nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the scene unfolding before him. "Yes... it''s him." Why was Grounad here, among the Dreadmaw Clan? The Bloodfang Clan had always looked down on the Dreadmaws. They were not enemies, nor rivals but they looked down at the Dreadmaw Clan for being a hunter Clan. However, here Grounad was, walking toward him with eagerness, looking like he had purpose, sign his broad shoulders squared, and wearing a serious face. When Grounad finally stood before Volk, he panted a little, and when he finally recovered, he bowed slightly, a gesture of respect that made the younger Orc''s eyes widen in surprise. Beside Grounad was a tall, graceful Elf woman, her sharp features softened by a calm smile. Her long, silvery hair fell over her shoulders, and her green eyes glinted in the dim light of the catacomb. "Volk, I come before you not as an enemy, but as a follower." Grounad''s voice was deep, and there was a strange pride in his tone. Volk blinked. "A follower? What are you talking about?" "You remember our fight, don''t you? I gave my word. If you defeated me, I would join you. I, Grounad of the Bloodfang Clan, am a warrior who does not go back on his word. From this day forward, I am no longer of the Bloodfang Clan. I will follow you, Volk, and become part of the Dreadmaw Clan." The murmurs began immediately. The younger Orcs and Elves surrounding them exchanged confused glances. Volk could hear the whispers clearly. "What? He''s leaving the Bloodfang Clan?" "Didn''t they hate the Dreadmaw? Why would he join us?" "Is this some kind of trick?" But Grounad stood tall, unbothered by the murmurs. He turned to the Elf beside him and gestured toward her. "This is my wife, Mishina. She stands by my side in all things, and today, she, too, chooses to follow me in this new path. We pledge our loyalty to you, Volk." Volk''s eyes flickered between Grounad and Mishina, still trying to process what was happening. He had never expected Grounad to take their fight seriously enough to leave his clan. But here he was, standing in the heart of the Dreadmaw Clan, declaring his loyalty. It was... bewildering. "Mishina," Grounad said, turning to his wife. "What do you think of this? Are you sure you want to follow me? I won''t force you into this life." The Elf woman smiled softly, her voice calm but firm. "Grounad, where you go, I will go. We have always faced challenges together, and this will be no different. Whether we are part of the Bloodfang Clan or the Dreadmaw Clan, my loyalty is to you. And if you believe in this new path, then I will walk it with you." Stay in the loop with m-vl-em-pyr Their words hung in the air, and for a moment, Volk didn''t know what to say. He can go and shamelessly command anyone to action, and he would be comfortable if it was inside his clan. But this? A warrior from a rival clan swearing loyalty to him? Is this for real? He felt somewhat uncomfortable with this idea. "You... really mean it?" Volk muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "I do," Grounad replied proudly. "I am Grounad, once of the Bloodfang Clan, now a follower of Volk. My accomplishments in the Bloodfang will mean nothing now, for I will earn new ones under your leadership." Volk scratched his head awkwardly, unsure how to react. "Uh... I, uh... I accept your loyalty." Grounad grinned, his fierce eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good. Then it''s settled." Before the conversation could continue, Grounad suddenly looked around, his brow furrowing. "But tell me, Volk, why is the Dreadmaw Clan not moving? You''ve led them this far, but now everyone is just standing still. Why?" Volk blinked. "What do you mean?" "I mean, why is no one advancing? Why are they all suppressing their strength and mana?" Grounad''s voice was filled with confusion. "Is this some kind of strategy? Are they waiting for something? Because from where I stand, it looks like they''re... hiding." The question sent a ripple through Volk''s head. He had been thinking about these thoughts since earlier, about the strange change in the catacomb that he had noticed. Should the Dreadmaw Clan move? Should they progress deep into the dungeon? Volk could see that Grounad was really confused. What was really happening here? Should they really move and not stay and wait for the war to settle? Chapter 90: Other Orc Clans secret Volk stared at Grounad, with his brow furrowed incredibly in confusion. "I thought we only needed to stay here, wait for the war above to settle down between Red elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches, and then we could come back, right?" His voice held uncertainty, as if the plan he had believed in suddenly made no sense. Grounad glanced at him with an expression of realization, his rough features softening as he remembered something crucial. "That''s what the other clans want you to think, Volk. But it''s not that simple." The Dreadmaw Clan had always been different. Discriminated against. Shunned by the other Orc Clans because of their perceived weakness. Volk didn''t know that much as Grounad observe his facial expression. And probably, Volk also didn''t understand why it mattered so much here, in this dungeon. "You don''t know, do you?" S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Grounad continued, his tone patient but serious. "The Dreadmaw Clan has always been looked down upon. Other Orc Clans view us as weak, unfit to fight in the true battles that define an Orc''s honor. "They''ve even turned us away when some of our best warriors tried to join them. And because of that, we''re not included in any of the major decisions. Were left out of the most important things." Volk''s expression grew darker as he listened. He had always sensed that the Dreadmaw Clan was considered different, but he hadn''t realized the extent of the discrimination. His fists clenched as he thought of how their strength had been questioned for generations. "But now... we''re here, right?" Volk asked, his voice low. "And that means something, doesn''t it?" Grounad nodded. "Yes, it means they''ve realized something important. You see, Volk, you know about the Dark Elven Warlocks outside on the opposite side of the gate of this catacomb, right?" Volk nodded, his thoughts flickering back to what he knew about the warlocks. "Yeah, they''ve been enemies of the Orc Clans for years and I know that they are here to take revenge. But what about them?" "It''s not just the warlocks anymore." Grounad''s voice dropped to a near whisper, and his eyes darted around, as if making sure no one else was listening. "There are also Dark Elven Witches on the other side of the catacomb outside. They''re just as dangerous, if not more so, than the warlocks. And the other Orc Clans¡ªthey know it. That''s why they''re not just planning to wait this out, like you thought." Volk''s heart began to race. "What are you saying?" Grounad sighed deeply, his large shoulders rising and falling in a slow, deliberate motion. "The real goal isn''t just to survive the war and wait for the battle outside to subside between the two sides. No, the real goal is to get to the bottom of the catacomb and retrieve the crystals that are forming down there." Volk blinked, taken aback. "Crystals? Why would they get it?" Read the latest on m_v-l''e-NovelFire "Yes," Grounad confirmed. "Crystals with immense power. After you take the last formed one, there will be newly formed ones gonna be created too. "And the only way to escape this entire war is to get to the bottom of the completed catacomb, find those crystals, and drip your blood onto them. If the catacomb accepts you, you''ll be sent to another dimension¡ªone where the war doesn''t reach. That''s the real goal, Volk." The young Orc stared at him, speechless. "But... What about the Warlocks? And the Dark Elven Witches?" Grounad leaned in closer. "If you go back now, if you try to escape the normal way, they''ll be waiting for you. The Warlocks and the Witches will slaughter anyone who tries to leave this dungeon alive. "The other Orc Clans know this. That''s why they''re fighting to get to the bottom and be accepted by the clan. The only way to survive is to complete the catacomb. That''s the only way out." A heavy silence settled over them as the weight of Grounad''s words hit Volk like a hammer. Volk felt his chest tighten, with his mind racing as he tried to process what he had just learned. "So there''s no other choice... but to escape through the crystals and let the dungeon be sent to other dimensions?" Volk asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Grounad nodded grimly. "Sadly, yes. If there were another way, we''d take it. But the presence of the Dark Elven Witches means we don''t have that luxury. This is the last option. But now, I am telling you, Volk, that we need to get to the bottom first or all of us will die." Volk felt a chill run down his spine. The reality of the situation was far more dangerous than he had anticipated. If they didn''t reach the bottom, if they didn''t complete the catacomb, they would all be killed. And then Grounad added something that made Volk''s blood run cold. "Fortunately, you''ve already completed the catacomb once, Volk. If not for you, we''d all be dead by now." Volk stood frozen, his mind reeling from the truth of their predicament. He had completed the catacomb once, yes. But could he do it again? Could they all do it together? Suddenly, a sharp, metallic sound echoed through the cavern. Volk''s reflexes kicked in, and he moved just in time to avoid a deadly slash of a sword that had been aimed directly at him. The blade whistled past him, missing by mere inches. He stumbled back, his heart pounding in his chest. "What the¡ª" he began, but his words were cut off when he saw who had attacked him. Standing before him, holding a massive, serrated sword, was the chieftain of the Dreadmaw Clan. The chieftain was an imposing figure, towering over even the largest of the Orcs around him. His skin was a deep, mottled green, with scars criss crossing his arms and chest, a testament to countless battles. His eyes were wild, filled with a mix of fury and madness. Long, matted hair hung down his back, and his tusks jutted out from his mouth like sharpened ivory spears. His armor was adorned with the bones of beasts, and his presence alone sent a wave of tension through the cavern. "How dare you!" the chieftain bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. Volk stared at him, his mind still reeling from the near-death experience. "What are you¡ª" "You dare to challenge the authority of the Dreadmaw Clan? You, a labor Orc? How dare you think you can lead us into this dungeon! You''re a disgrace!" Volk''s eyes narrowed. This was not the reaction he had expected. He had saved them. He had completed the catacomb. And now this? But before he could respond, the chieftain raised his sword again, ready to strike. "You''re no leader! You''re a fool! And I will show everyone here what happens to fools who defy the Dreadmaw Clan!" The crowd of Orcs and Elves around them tensed, their eyes wide with fear and wonder why he is attacking. The tension in the air was palpable. Volk clenched his fists, his body preparing for a fight. If the chieftain wanted to challenge him, then so be it. But something deep inside him warned that this fight would be unlike any other he had faced before. Chapter 91: Important Mission Volk stared at the chieftain, his muscles tensing as he held back the urge to strike. "What is your problem, chieftain?" Read exclusive content at m_v-l''-NovelFire His voice was low, controlled, but there was a hint of frustration. He didn''t understand why the chieftain had attacked him so suddenly, and more importantly, why the older Orc was so furious. The chieftain, his eyes filled with seething rage, stepped forward, his massive figure towering over Volk. His gnarled hands gripped the handle of his sword tightly, and the air around him seemed to grow heavy. "My problem?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the cavern. "You dare ask me what my problem is?" Volk said nothing, standing his ground. He could feel the eyes of the other Orcs and Elves on them, watching in silence. The older Orcs in particular seemed to be waiting for something. The chieftain continued, his voice booming with anger. "I am the chieftain of this tribe! It is my duty, my right, to accept new members into the Dreadmaw Clan! Not yours!" He jabbed a finger at Volk, his face twisted in fury. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You, a labor Orc, think you have the authority to bring someone into my tribe without my permission? You have insulted me in front of my clan, in front of our ancestors!" Volk blinked, confused. "I didn''t know¡ª" "Exactly!" the chieftain interrupted, his voice cutting like a blade. "You didn''t know! Because you are ignorant! You are not worthy of making decisions for this tribe. You are not worthy of leading anyone, let alone someone like Grounad." He spat the name like it was poison on his tongue. The chieftain''s eyes gleamed with anger as he continued. "By accepting Grounad into our tribe, you have challenged my reign as chieftain. You, who are barely more than a child in the eyes of our people, dare to think you can usurp my authority?" Volk opened his mouth to speak, but the chieftain wasn''t done. He raised his sword and pointed it at Volk''s chest, his voice shaking with fury. "Even with my power suppressed, even if I am no stronger than you or the others here, my pride as an Orc Warrior is not something the likes of you can trample on! "You think that just because you''ve completed the catacomb, you have the right to disrespect me? To disrespect our traditions?" The older generation of Orcs, who had been standing silently, raised their hands in agreement, their faces stern. One of them, a grizzled Orc with scars running down his arms, spoke up. "The chieftain is right. You have disrespected the traditions of the Dreadmaw Clan, Volk. The chieftain must be the one to accept new members. For you to do it without his permission is a grave insult." Another elder, her voice rough with age, added, "You have challenged his authority. The punishment for such disrespect is death. Offer your head, Volk, and accept your fate." Volk stood there, speechless. He hadn''t known. No one had told him that only the chieftain could accept new members into the tribe. It was an unspoken rule, one that the older generation seemed to understand instinctively. However, Volk? He was from a different world, a different life. And now, he was being condemned for something he didn''t even know was wrong. As the elders continued to call for his death, Volk''s mind drifted back to his past life. He remembered being in a wheelchair, his body weak and frail. The adults around him, caregivers and teachers, had always been quick to scold him, to tell him what to do. Even the smallest mistakes would earn their anger. He had been powerless then, just as he felt now. They had lied to his parents, making him out to be a troublemaker, when all he had ever wanted was to live in peace. Just because he was weak, just because he didn''t know any better, they had abused their authority over him. The memories stirred a deep hatred within him. The same hatred he had felt as a child, the same hatred he had tried to bury when he came to this world. But now, it was bubbling to the surface again. The chieftain and the elders¡ªwere they any different from the adults in his past life? Were they just using their authority to oppress him because they could? Volk''s jaw clenched as the anger inside him grew. He wasn''t weak anymore. He wasn''t powerless. And he wasn''t going to stand here and let them dictate his fate. He was about to speak, about to defend himself, when suddenly, a familiar sound echoed in his mind. | Ding! A message from the system appeared before his eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light of the cavern. | Reach and drip some blood first on the newly forming crystal deep in the dungeon within thirty minutes. | Rewards: The host will always be sent to a dimension near where the Nuclear Reactor Vessel will be sent to. | Failure: Death of everyone in the Dreadmaw Clan, including the host. | Volk''s eyes widened in shock as he read the message. "What...?" he whispered under his breath. His mind raced. A crystal? A new dimension? And what was this about a Nuclear Reactor Vessel? He didn''t have time to think. The system had given him a time limit¡ªthirty minutes. If he didn''t reach the crystal in time, he would lose whatever reward was being offered. And something told him that the reward was more important than anything else happening right now. After all, the punishment is nothing but death! His gaze shifted from the system message to the chieftain, who was still glaring at him with fury in his eyes. The chieftain had no idea what was going on in Volk''s mind, no idea that something far more important than their petty dispute was at stake. Volk swallowed his salivas hard, trying to keep his composure. He needed to act quickly. He couldn''t waste time arguing with the chieftain, not when the system was offering him a way out¡ªpossibly a way to survive. His eyes darted to Solluha''r, his partner. She was standing a few feet away, her expression one of concern and confusion. She hadn''t said a word during the confrontation, but now, as Volk''s gaze met hers, she seemed to sense that something was wrong. Volk took a deep breath. He didn''t know what to do next, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn''t stay here and wait for the chieftain to decide his fate. Not when the system had just handed him a lifeline. Without saying a word, he nodded to Solluha''r, signaling that they needed to move. She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod in return, understanding the urgency in his eyes. But before Volk could make his move, the chieftain raised his sword again, his voice thundering through the cavern. "How dare you stand there in silence, little Labor Volk? Do you have no respect for your elders? No respect for the traditions of our clan?" Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to think of a way out. The system''s message lingered in his mind, urging him to act. But the chieftain was in his way, and Volk knew that if he made the wrong move now, he might not survive long enough to reach the crystal. Chapter 92: Wont be a problem Volk''s jaw clenched as the chieftain''s words echoed in his ears. His muscles tensed with the weight of a decision he never thought he''d have to make. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He had always respected the older generation even in his past life, had even tried to understand their ways, but this¡ªthis was different. The chieftain was pushing him too far, trying to cling to power and traditions that no longer made sense. Without thinking, Volk stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. His voice was calm, but the undercurrent of anger was unmistakable. "Look, old one," he began, his words dripping with contempt, "you''ve suppressed your body and mana, and you''re still injured. I don''t want to fight such weakness." The chieftain''s face contorted in fury, but Volk didn''t stop. "Rest for now," he continued, his voice growing sharper. "Wait for me. I''ll give you a quick death when I return. If becoming chieftain is what you want me to do, I''ll take that title from you without breaking a sweat." There was a stunned silence. Every Orc and Elf in the chamber stood frozen, their mouths agape, unable to process what they had just heard. It was as if time had stopped. Volk didn''t even glance back at the chieftain. He turned on his heel and strode away, his steps echoing in the eerie quiet that followed his declaration. As Volk disappeared into the shadows of the dungeon, Grounad stood, slack-jawed. He hadn''t expected this kind of confidence¡ªor was it arrogance? Whatever it was, he admired it. After a brief pause, Grounad turned to his wife, Mishana. Her pale face glistened with worry, her silver hair catching the dim light of the cavern. She nodded slightly, knowing what he was about to do. "Wait here," Grounad muttered, his deep voice laced with urgency. Mishana''s emerald eyes bore into his, but she didn''t object. She trusted him. Without wasting another second, Grounad took off, with his massive legs pumping as he chased after Volk. Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! The older Orcs and Elves could only watch in disbelief as he vanished from sight. However, he wasn''t the only one. Grashk, Grok''Thar, and several others who had followed Volk previously shared a glance, and without a word, they too began to move. The Elves stood in silence, unsure of what to make of the scene before them. Solluha''r, standing among the elders, furrowed her brow, clearly torn between staying behind and following her partner. The older generation of Orcs and Elves exchanged confused glances, but none of them dared speak up. They were flabbergasted by the sheer audacity of what was happening. --- Grounad''s heavy footsteps echoed through the winding halls of the dungeon, but he finally caught up to Volk, who was striding ahead with a singular focus. The dim light of the dungeon''s eerie glow cast long shadows, but Grounad could see the determination in Volk''s gait. He hurried to fall into step beside him. "Volk," Grounad called out, slightly breathless. Volk slowed, glancing over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. "This... this is the same as last time," Grounad said, his voice a mix of curiosity and anxiety. "The greenery, the strange plants¡ªthey weren''t here before, but the dungeon layout? It''s almost identical." Volk raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked, genuinely surprised. Grounad nodded. "Yeah. It''s the same, but with one critical difference." "And what''s that?" Volk asked, his eyes narrowing. "The numbers," Grounad replied gravely. "The monsters¡ªthey''ve tripled in number. The dungeon is summoning creatures from different dimensions. The traps, the challenges¡ªit''s all going to be a lot worse this time." Volk frowned, letting the information sink in. His mind began working quickly, calculating the implications of what Grounad had just said. Tripled monsters? Summoned from other dimensions? This dungeon wasn''t just a death trap anymore¡ªit was something much more dangerous. And yet, he felt no fear. Instead, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Then this won''t be a problem," Volk muttered to himself, more amused than concerned. Grounad stared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean, it won''t be a problem? This dungeon''s difficulty has been ramped up to an insane level! We''ll be facing monsters we''ve never even seen before." Volk shrugged, his casual demeanor unnerving Grounad. "I can handle worse." He glanced back at the others who had followed him into the depths. "And besides, we''re not alone." The others, Grashk, Grok''Thar, and the few others who had loyally followed Volk, now caught up with them, their faces a mixture of excitement and trepidation. They had heard Grounad''s warning, but they shared Volk''s confidence. "So," Volk said, turning to face his small group, "who''s ready to tear through this dungeon?" Grashk grinned, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth. "As long as we''re following you, Volk, I think we''ve got a chance." Grok''Thar nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I''m not afraid of a few extra monsters. Let them come." Volk couldn''t help but smirk. The loyalty and confidence of these Orcs were contagious. They didn''t care about the odds¡ªthey trusted him. And Volk? He trusted himself. No! He trusted his Grum-gar form and system. "Good," he said simply, turning back toward the path ahead. "Let''s move." As they began to press deeper into the dungeon, Grounad walked alongside Volk, still troubled by the growing danger. "You really think we can survive this?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with doubt. Volk glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Survive? Grounad, we''re not here to survive. We''re here to conquer." The sheer audacity of Volk''s words left Grounad speechless for a moment. He had followed him down into the dungeon, believing in his strength after their fight, but now he was starting to see something else in Volk¡ªsomething that wasn''t just strength or confidence. It was something far deeper. A will. A drive. Something that couldn''t be easily crushed. Is this really the weak Dreadmaw Clan? They walked for several more minutes in silence, the air growing colder as the path narrowed and the stone walls began to close in around them. The faint sound of growls echoed in the distance, the first sign that the dungeon was preparing to unleash its horrors upon them. Finally, Volk stopped, his eyes scanning the path ahead. "There," he whispered, nodding toward the faint glow of crystal shards embedded in the walls. "This is where it begins." Read new chapters at m_v-l''e-NovelFire Grounad''s grip tightened around his axe as he followed Volk''s gaze. The sound of approaching monsters grew louder, the ground vibrating beneath their feet. Volk cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders in preparation. "This dungeon may have tripled its threats," he said, "but that just means more opportunities for us." With a quick glance to his comrades, Volk added, "Stay sharp. Watch each other''s backs. And remember¡ªthis isn''t just about surviving. We''re here to win." The first of the monsters appeared at the edge of the corridor, its snarling face illuminated by the faint glow of the crystals. Behind it, the sounds of more creatures approaching grew louder, a cacophony of roars and growls that promised an onslaught. It''s like a stampede of monsters and they were together. Volk gripped his weapon tightly, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Let''s get to work." Chapter 93: Flabbergasted Grounad''s mind had been spinning ever since that fateful day, and that nagging curiosity wouldn''t let him rest for even a single minute. How had the Dreadmaw Clan managed to pass through the other clans so easily? Did they really fight all those monsters? Or was there something else going on that he didn''t know about? And now, as they prepared to descend deeper into the dungeon, his thoughts swirled even more intensely when he sensed the monsters were near. Is this it? Grounad will find out now? Stay updated through m-v l|-NovelFire He was thinking maybe that Volk or the new generation of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs was really different. After all, after being ragdolled by the bull earlier, he was not that stupid. He saw Volk teleport, but he''s not sure if Volk really used magic at that time. It was as if Volk had naturally hazardous magic particles in his body that were so well concentrated that he didn''t even notice. Clang! Clang! Clang! Volk slammed his bone spear on his bone shield. And the others followed suit. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Gulp! Grounad stood there as he couldn''t shake the image of Volk marching forward with such confidence. Why wasn''t he taking the convenient way out? Did they really go through that shortcut full of monsters the last time? And now, they were going to do it again, with even more monsters waiting for them. He couldn''t understand it. It defied reason. Volk wasn''t even flinching. His curiosity was burning inside him. He wanted to ask, but before he could open his mouth, Volk''s voice rang out, loud and clear, cutting through the stillness of the dungeon like a blade. "ARE YOU READY, DREADMAW CLAN?" Volk bellowed, with his voice filled with challenge and desire for combat. The others, without hesitation, shouted back, with their voices echoing in the dark corridors. "WE ARE READY!" Even Grounad, despite the questions that still swarming at his head, found himself yelling alongside them. His chest swelled with determination, though confusion lingered just beneath the surface. "WE ARE READY!" he shouted, feeling the weight of the moment, even as his thoughts screamed for answers. Suddenly, the faint sound of scurrying claws and low growls grew louder as the monsters emerged from the depths of the tunnel. These were creatures Grounad couldn''t recognize¡ªbeasts twisted and grotesque, with glowing eyes and gnarled limbs. They crawled and slithered toward them, the air around them thick with their stench. But then... something unexpected happened. The monsters stopped. They froze, mid-step, their glowing eyes widening in terror. It was like a bolt of lightning. Even Grounad found himself frozen, with his body immediately felt so tense, not understanding what was happening. "What is going on?" he muttered, with his voice barely a whisper as he watched in disbelief. The creatures¡ªeach one more horrifying than the last¡ªbegan to tremble. And then, as if driven by some unseen force, they turned and fled. Swack! Swack! Swack! The scurrying claws and growls turned to pitiful whimpers as the monsters scrambled away in fear, disappearing into the shadows from which they had come. The Dreadmaw Clan Orcs stood still for a moment, their weapons still in their hands, watching the monsters retreat. Then, as if nothing had happened, they sheathed their weapons and started walking again, casually continuing their journey as if they hadn''t just been confronted by a swarm of terrifying beasts. Grounad stood there, flabbergasted, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just unfolded. He blinked several times, his grip still tight on his weapon. "What the... just happened?" he finally asked, his voice shaky with disbelief. Before anyone could respond, a booming laugh erupted from Grashk, one of the Dreadmaw warriors. "HAHAHAHAHAHA!" The others joined in, their laughter filling the cavern, each one casting amused glances at Grounad. "LOOK AT HIS FACE!" Grok''Thar bellowed between fits of laughter. "HAHAHAHA! HE''S COMPLETELY LOST RIGHT NOW HAHAHAHHA!" Another Orc pounded his fist on his thigh, doubling over with laughter. "YOU SHOULD''VE SEEN YOUR EXPRESSION, GROUNAD! YOU LOOKED LIKE YOU JUST SAW A GHOST!" His laughter was so intense that he could barely get the words out. "HAHAHAHAHA!" The chorus of laughter grew louder as more and more of the Dreadmaw Clan joined in, their voices filling the cavern with an infectious joy. "OH SHIT! OH SHIT! HAHAHAHAHA!" They slapped each other on the back, wiped tears from their eyes, and pointed at Grounad, who could do nothing but stand there, utterly bewildered. Finally, one of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, still chuckling, slung an arm around Grounad''s broad shoulders. "Ah, don''t be too hard on yourself, Grounad," the Orc said, grinning. "You''re not the first to be confused by it. Volk has... Well, let''s just say he''s got a unique quality." Grounad looked at him, still dazed. "What do you mean?" The Orc''s grin widened. "You see, Volk''s a Labor Orc. Probably because he''s spent his life toiling in the worst conditions, working with hazardous magic particles, dangerous substances that would kill most Orcs. But for some unknown reason, Volk''s body has absorbed so much of that hazardous magic unlike other normal Labor Orcs, it''s like a shield." "Yeah," another Orc chimed in, still snickering. "The monsters? They smell that magic on him, and they think he''s some kind of beast¡ªa predator even stronger than they are who was more adapted to the magic particles. They don''t dare come near him." Grounad blinked, trying to make sense of it all. "But... shouldn''t he be dead if he''s contaminated with hazardous magic?" The Orcs around him just shrugged, their faces still amused. "Who knows?" one of them said, his tone nonchalant. "Volk''s survived it this long. Maybe he''s tougher than the rest of us. Or maybe he''s just too stubborn to die. As long as it works, it works¡­ Haha!" Another bout of laughter rippled through the group, but this time, Grounad couldn''t help but chuckle along with them, even though he still didn''t fully understand. As the laughter died down, Volk turned and glanced over his shoulder at the group, his expression calm and unreadable. Without saying a word, he continued forward, leading the Dreadmaw Clan deeper into the tunnel. The air grew colder as they descended further into the dungeon, the stone walls narrowing around them. The path ahead was dark, but there was a strange, faint light at the far end of the tunnel, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Grounad walked alongside the others, his thoughts still racing, but now mixed with a strange sense of awe. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk... contaminated by hazardous magic particles? It was beyond anything he had ever heard of, but somehow, it made sense. He didn''t know that Orcs are naturally not able to survive in harsh conditions, after all, they came from another dimension, but due to the future generations being born here, they naturally got those hazard particles, and Volk must be the most abnormal Labor Orc. That''s what Grounad thought. However¡­ The way the monsters had fled¡ªit wasn''t natural. Volk, it''s like he had something about him, something dangerous, something that even the monsters feared, and he felt that the hazardous magic particles are not cut to it. But he is also not sure. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the end of the tunnel. The light grew brighter, and the air grew heavier with the presence of magic. The Dreadmaw Clan stopped, standing at the mouth of the next chamber, with their eyes scanning the area. Volk stood at the front, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression unreadable. He didn''t say anything, but Grounad could sense the tension in the cave''s air. This was it. The heart of the tunnel. Chapter 94: Easy Winged Tiger The air was thick with a strange, pulsating energy as Volk and the others reached the heart of the dungeon. They stepped into a vast chamber, and at once, the sight before them sent a chill through the group. Chack! The place was crawling with unknown magical monsters, each one pulsating with the eerie glow of hazardous magic particles. Their forms were grotesque, twisted by the dark magic that flowed through the very air of the dungeon. L Some had multiple eyes, others bore grotesque claws, and a few floated eerily as if gravity held no sway over them. But in the middle of it all, standing like a dark monarch over this sea of horrors, was a gigantic winged tiger. Its fur shimmered with a strange, otherworldly glow, and its wings were black, stretched wide, casting an ominous shadow over the battlefield. Its eyes gleamed with intelligence and malice, its claws tearing into the stone floor as if it were nothing more than paper. Grrrrrrrrrr¡­ For a moment, the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs and Volk stood still, gazing at the sheer enormity of the growling beast. But what was even more surprising was the reaction of the monsters. Normally, the presence of Volk would send them scurrying away in fear. His body, contaminated with hazardous magic particles compared to other Labor Orcs, usually acted as a deterrent. But now... nothing. The monsters weren''t fleeing. They weren''t even bothered by his presence. "What the hell is going on?" Grounad muttered, his voice low as his eyes darted across the chamber, filled with beasts. Before anyone could answer, the gigantic tiger let out a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the dungeon. GRRROOOOOAAAAARRRRRR!! The sound reverberated through the stone walls, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. Then, in an instant, the tiger pounced forward, slashing into the creatures around it with terrifying ferocity. The monsters, to everyone''s shock, started attacking the tiger in return. Kabang! Kabang! Kabang! The battle that unfolded in front of them was brutal and wild. The tiger''s massive claws ripped through the lesser creatures as though they were paper, but the other monsters also retaliated in kind. Spells crackled in the air, claws and fangs clashed, and the air was filled with the sound of tearing flesh and monstrous roars. It was chaos. Volk and the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs watched, frozen. Yet he didn''t know why, but something inside his head stirred. His muscles tensed as if his body was moving on its own, compelled by some unseen force. Before he even realized it, he charged forward, his weapon raised, and joined the fray, fearlessly. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" he screamed for some unknown reason. The moment Volk''s axe struck the first monster, the dungeon exploded with action. His movements were sharp and precise, each swing of his weapon calculated as it cleaved through the flesh of the magical beasts. The air around him crackled with the residual magic particles, but Volk didn''t care. He was focused solely on the battle. Grounad, Grashk, and the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan would look at each other but also followed suit. Feeling the strange feeling that Volk felt. They charged into the horde of monsters, their weapons flashing as they fought with the efficiency of battle-hardened warriors. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" They moved in perfect sync, dodging and weaving through the attacks of the monsters with practiced ease. Each one of them struck with precision, cutting down the beasts with ruthless efficiency. The winged tiger, however, was a different story. It moved with terrifying speed, its claws slashing through the air with a strength that sent shockwaves through the ground. It let out another deafening roar, with its wings beating fiercely as it leapt into the air, crashing down on a cluster of monsters, crushing them under its massive paws. For a moment, Volk found himself face-to-face with the beast. Its glowing eyes locked onto his, and he could feel the intensity of its malice. But instead of fear, something inside him stirred¡ªa primal rage. "COME OOOO!!!" His grip tightened on his axe, and without hesitation, he lunged at the tiger. His weapon met the creature''s side, but instead of cleaving through it, his axe bounced off the beast''s hide, sending a shockwave through his arms. "Damn it!" Volk cursed, staggering back from the force of the recoil. The tiger growled, baring its massive fangs, before lunging at him. Volk barely had time to dodge as the tiger''s claws slashed through the space where he had just been standing. He rolled to the side, quickly getting back to his feet, his eyes darting around for an opening. "VOLK, WATCH OUT!" Grashk yelled from behind him, his own blade sinking into the flesh of another monster. Volk nodded, focusing on the tiger once more. The battle raged on, but the tiger''s strength, while formidable, couldn''t match the combined might of the Dreadmaw Clan. Each time the tiger tried to strike, an Orc was there to deflect or evade, their coordination honed by years of combat. They struck at the tiger''s legs, wings, and sides, slowly whittling away at its strength. It was a methodical assault, each strike precise and deliberate. Though the tiger was powerful, it was no match for the Dreadmaw warriors working in unison. And soon, the beast began to falter. With a final, mighty swing, Volk brought his axe down on the tiger''s head. KABAG!! The creature let out one last roar before collapsing to the ground, its massive body thudding heavily against the stone floor. The remaining monsters, perhaps emboldened by the tiger''s fall, attempted to attack. But they were weak. Wounded and disoriented, the creatures were no match for the Orcs, who dispatched them with ease. Breathing heavily, Volk stood over the fallen body of the winged tiger, his brow furrowed. He should have felt victorious, but something gnawed at him. Read new adventures at m_v-l''e|m,p| y- r Something was wrong. The entire battle had felt... too easy. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The others didn''t seem to notice, their faces filled with satisfaction as they wiped the blood from their weapons. Grounad approached Volk, shaking his head in amazement. "That was incredible, Volk. I''ve never fought something like that before." Volk nodded, his expression distant. "Yeah. But..." He trailed off, his instincts screaming that something wasn''t right. He scanned the chamber, but nothing seemed out of place. The monsters were dead, the tiger defeated, and the crystal they had come for stood undisturbed in the center of the room. Yet still, the uneasy feeling in his chest wouldn''t go away. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "It''s nothing." Ignoring the pit in his stomach, Volk turned and made his way toward the crystal. The Dreadmaw Clan watched in silence as he approached the glowing stone, its surface shimmering with power. Without hesitation, he pulled out a dagger, slicing open his palm. Blood dripped onto the crystal, the dark red liquid seeping into its surface. The crystal pulsed for a moment, and then a faint hum filled the air. Volk stepped back, his gaze fixed on the crystal. For now, it seemed that the danger had passed. But even as he watched the crystal absorb his blood, that feeling of unease remained, lurking at the back of his mind. There was something he wasn''t seeing. Something still waiting in the shadows. What could it be and where would it be? Chapter 95: Body Changes As Volk stood there, watching the last drop of his blood seep into the glowing crystal, a familiar chime echoed in his mind. | Ding! The notification was sharp and clear, cutting through the lingering strange heavy atmosphere in the catacomb. | Mission completed. | Reach and drip some blood first on the newly forming crystal deep in the dungeon within thirty minutes. | Rewards: The host will always be sent to a dimension near where the Nuclear Reactor Vessel will be sent to. | Failure: Death of everyone in the Dreadmaw Clan, including the host. | Status: Completed. | Volk blinked, reading the words over again. Immediately, sigh of relief. Nuclear Reactor Vessel? Solluha''r? What the hell did that mean? He didn''t know. But as long as the reward wasn''t death, he was willing to accept whatever bizarre fate the system had in store for him. The alternative was something far worse. He shook his head, pushing away the gnawing thoughts. Survival was enough for now. Suddenly, before he could ponder further, a sharp shockwave erupted from the crystal. It rippled through the room, knocking a few of the Orcs off balance. Volk''s body tensed, instinctively stepping back, but the strange force tugged at him. He felt... light. Too light. Like his body was no longer tethered to the ground. His boots no longer felt heavy, his muscles no longer weighed down by the usual burden of battle and fatigue. Grashk was the first to notice. His eyes widened, his tusks trembling slightly as he pointed across the room. "Grok''Thar! What is happening to you?" Everyone''s gaze shot to Grok''Thar, who was staring at his hands in confusion and horror. His skin¡ªonce a robust, deep green¡ªwas melting. Or at least, that''s what it looked like. Green liquid dripped from his arms, pooling around his feet. Grok''Thar looked up at Grashk, his eyes wild with panic. "I-I don''t know!" Grok''Thar stammered. His voice quivered with terror. "The same thing happening to you, Grashk!" Grashk''s head jerked down to look at his own hands. His skin, too, was melting¡ªthick, viscous streams of green liquid pouring from his body, forming small puddles beneath him. His muscles quivered as if trying to hold together, but the strange fluid kept leaking out. Volk felt a deep sense of dread rise in his chest. He was breathing heavily, immediately his hand instinctively gripped his weapon. Something was very, very wrong. This wasn''t just the system anymore¡ªhe could feel that something more sinister was at play. He glanced around at the others. Grok''Thar. Grashk. Even Grounad. They were all starting to dissolve, the green liquid spreading across the stone floor like some cursed ooze. "What... what the hell is going on?" Grok''Thar''s voice was panicked, his eyes darting around as if searching for answers in the chaos. "Why is this happening?" One by one, the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs began to shout in confusion. Their voices overlapped in a cacophony of fear and bewilderment. "Why is my skin melting?" one of them shouted, stumbling backward. "I can feel it! I can feel my body slipping away!" another screamed, his voice cracking with terror as the green ooze sloughed off his arms. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Even Grounad, who had always been steady and resilient, was losing his composure. Explore hidden tales at m,v l''e-NovelFire.net His skin, too, was melting away, leaving streaks of green running down his face and chest. He looked to Volk, desperate for some explanation, some reassurance. But Volk had none to give. He could only stare in horror as his own body began to feel the strange sensation, as if something were peeling away from him. Yet no pain. Just... the eerie lightness. For a moment, the tension in the air was unbearable. Orcs¡ªproud warriors of the Dreadmaw Clan¡ªstood frozen, paralyzed by a fear that none of them had ever encountered before. The catacombs that had moments ago been filled with victorious shouts and the sounds of battle now held nothing but the frantic gasps and whispers of panic. Volk''s mind raced. He had fought monsters, faced death countless times, but this¡ªthis was beyond anything he had ever experienced. The system''s messages, the strange power of the crystal, the sudden melting... It all felt like some twisted joke, one that was getting out of hand fast. Volk finally spoke, his voice cutting through the growing chaos. "Everyone... calm down!" His voice was strained, but it held authority. "We need to figure out what''s happening. Keep your heads together!" But the panic in their eyes told him that no words would settle the growing terror. It was as if the very core of their being¡ªthe strength that defined them as Orcs¡ªwas slipping away, replaced by a sensation of helplessness they had never known. Volk glanced down at his own body, finally noticing it himself. His skin wasn''t green anymore. The familiar, deep green hue that had defined him for so long... was gone. In its place, there was a pale, almost ashen color, like life had been drained from him. His limbs, while still functional, moved more fluidly, as if a weight had been lifted. The once oppressive heat in the dungeon didn''t bother him, and he realized with a start that he could breathe more easily. "What...?" he whispered, shaking his head, trying to make sense of it all. Then louder, he said, "Why is your skin not green anymore?" The words echoed through the chamber. The other Orcs¡ªstill dripping with the strange liquid¡ªlooked around at each other. Slowly, the realization dawned on them. One by one, they lifted their arms, their eyes going wide as they saw their own pale skin, the green tint that had been a symbol of their heritage, their strength, gone. "Is this some kind of magic?" Grounad muttered, his voice shaking. "What the hell happened to us?" Grashk, his eyes still wide with shock, turned to Volk. "I feel... lighter. I can move faster, but... what does this mean? What have we become?" The air was thick with confusion, but in that moment, another chime echoed in Volk''s mind. | Ding! | The host''s body is now cleansed by an unknown high-level radioactivity. | Level too low to be recognized. | Volk swallowed hard, his throat dry. Radioactivity? His body... had been contaminated all this time? He didn''t fully understand it, but the message was clear¡ªsomething had changed. Something inside them had been altered in ways they couldn''t yet comprehend. He clenched his fists, feeling the strength in his arms, but also the strange lightness that permeated his every movement. It was disorienting, as if his body wasn''t quite his own anymore. The other Orcs looked to Volk, their eyes filled with uncertainty. They had followed him into this dungeon, faced the horrors alongside him, and now they were forever changed. But for better or for worse, that was the question that loomed over them all. "Volk..." Grounad started, his voice hesitant. "What do we do now?" Volk stood silent for a moment. Are they marked? He felt danger. But he knew they couldn''t turn back now. Whatever had happened, it was tied to this dungeon, tied to the strange crystals and the system''s mission. Finally, Volk looked up, his eyes hardening with resolve. "We stand together," he said firmly. Chapter 96: Different Stories As the remnants of battle faded from the chamber, Volk''s mind began to churn. His thoughts flickered back to Warlock Zenveil, the one he fought with such relentless power. There was something Zenveil had said¡ªsomething that gnawed at him even now. Slowly, he turned to the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, who stood around him, still marveling at their pale, transformed bodies. Volk stepped forward, his voice low but commanding. "Pour some water on your bodies." The Orcs stared at him in confusion. Grok''Thar furrowed his brow, his tusks twitching as if he hadn''t heard Volk correctly. "Water?" Volk nodded once, his eyes steady and unwavering. "Yes, water. Trust me on this." There was a hesitant murmur among the Orcs. Why would they pour water on themselves now, after everything that had just happened? But Volk''s tone left little room for argument. Slowly, a few Orcs unslung their water skins, tipping the cool liquid over their bodies. As the water ran down their skin, something strange began to happen. The pale hue of their skin shifted. Where once the green had been washed away, leaving them almost ghostly in appearance, now the water revealed something else¡ªa clear, light hue, almost luminous, like their bodies were catching the glow of the crystals surrounding them. "Voila," Volk muttered under his breath, watching as the transformation unfolded. The Orcs gasped. Grok''Thar stood stock still, staring at his arms as the light color replaced the sickly pallor they had moments ago. "What... what is this?" he stammered, looking around to the others. Grashk, who was equally astounded, ran his hand over his arm, feeling the smoothness beneath the water as it revealed the glowing hue beneath. "Volk... what''s happening to us?" Volk, wiping the remaining drops from his own skin, shook his head. "I don''t know everything yet. But I remember something Zenveil mentioned before I killed him. Something about the origins of us Orcs." This caught their attention. They had always known themselves as Orcs, warriors born from the earth, molded by battle and survival. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The idea of another origin was foreign, unsettling even. Volk stepped forward, his gaze piercing as he asked the question that had plagued his thoughts since Zenveil''s death. "What is the true origin of us Orcs?" The Orcs exchanged uncertain glances. Grok''Thar was the first to respond, his voice deep and gravelly. "The elder said we''re Orcs, Volk. Born from the deep earth, like the stones and mountains. We''ve always lived there, hunted by the Dark Elven Witches and the damned Warlocks. But we were strong enough to survive. When the Elven Witches came to help us, we thrived even more and spread." Volk raised an eyebrow. "Elven Witches, our partners, right?" Grashk nodded vigorously, his massive fists clenching as he spoke. "Aye. Out partners. The Elven Witches¡ªnot like the Dark Elven Witches or those damn Red Elven Warlocks. No, these Elven Witches were different. They saved us. They mixed their blood with ours and gave us the strength to grow." There was a collective murmur of agreement among the Orcs. Their tale of the Elven Witches was well known, passed down through generations. They were a symbol of salvation, of hope amidst the constant struggle for survival. But the simplicity of the tale left Volk unsatisfied. Volk turned his attention to Grounad, who had remained quiet, a thoughtful look on his face. "And what do you think, Grounad? You have a different story, don''t you?" Grounad straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aye. There''s another tale back in my Bloodfang Clan, though it''s not too far from what they said. Long ago, we were hunted by Dark Elven Witches who sought to enslave us. But the Elven Witches¡ªthey weren''t just saviors. They were... something more." Volk narrowed his eyes. "Go on." Grounad sighed, rubbing his chin as he recalled the legend. "The Elven Witches came from a land beyond the stars. Not just any ordinary Elves, but a race that had fled from something even darker than the Warlocks and their kind. "When they found us¡ªOrcs¡ªthey didn''t just mix their blood with ours. They gave us part of their essence, their magic. That''s why we''re so strong, why we''ve always had this connection to the earth and magic. It''s in our blood. "But not all of us accepted that gift willingly. Some fought against it. They said it made us weaker, that we should''ve stayed pure." The Orcs surrounding them murmured in surprise, exchanging curious glances. The story was familiar, yet Grounad''s version had a layer of depth they hadn''t heard before. The Elven Witches were not just saviors¡ªthey were the key to their strength, to their very existence as a race¡ªthey believed. And not something like Grounad had said. Volk''s brow furrowed. "And the Grum-gar form? Where did that come from?" At this, both Grounad and several of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs straightened, their faces darkening. Grashk was the first to speak. "The Grum-gar form came from a different time. It was because we ate the flesh of Ogres. They say the first Orcs to consume an Ogre gained their strength. But it cursed us too. Every time we call on that power, we lose a bit of ourselves to it." The others nodded in agreement, recounting the same story that had been told for generations. The Grum-gar form was both a gift and a curse¡ªa transformation that allowed them to tap into unimaginable strength, but one that came at a price. It had always been a part of their history, something they accepted without question. But Volk''s eyes narrowed. There was something about all these stories that didn''t sit right with him. "You''re all wrong," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through their conversation. The Orcs fell silent, turning to look at him in confusion. "What do you mean, Volk?" Grounad asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. Volk clenched his fists, his mind racing back to his encounter with Warlock Zenveil. "Zenveil told me something before he died. He said that the stories we know about our origins are lies. The Grum-gar form, the Elven Witches... It''s all been twisted." The Orcs exchanged uneasy glances. Continue your adventure with m|v-l''e -NovelFire.net Their entire identity, their heritage, was built on these stories. For Volk to say they were wrong was a heavy accusation. Volk exhaled slowly, his eyes hardening. "Do you want to know the truth? The real truth? The one Zenveil spoke of before I ended his miserable life?" There was a moment of silence as the weight of his words settled over them. Grounad shifted uncomfortably, while Grashk and the others looked around, unsure of what to say. But the curiosity in their eyes was undeniable. Finally, Grok''Thar spoke up, his voice low and uncertain. "What is the truth, Volk?" Volk smirked darkly, his hand tightening around the hilt of his weapon. "The truth... is far darker than any of us could imagine." He paused, letting his words sink in. "But if you want to know the real origin of the Orcs, I can tell you why the skins we have now were different." The Orcs were silent, and one could see their faces were reflecting a mixture of anticipation and fear. The stories they had grown up with, the identity they had built their lives around, seemed inconceivable. However, they could feel that whatever Volk was about to reveal, it would challenge everything they had ever believed. Volk took a deep breath, locking eyes with each of them in turn. "Do you really want to hear it?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of the unknown. The silence in the room was thick with tension, but slowly, one by one, the Orcs nodded. Volk''s eyes glinted with grim determination. "Then listen closely." Chapter 97: Origin Skin Volk stood among the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, his voice resonating with an intensity he had just discovered but couldn''t fully grasp yet. "This skin," he said, lifting his arm for all to see, "this is the skin of a true Orc." The Orcs exchanged stunned glances. Their light-colored skin shimmered in the faint glow of the cave, and Volk''s declaration sent ripples of shock through the group. Grok''Thar was the first to react, his eyes wide. "True Orcs?" he muttered under his breath, trying to wrap his mind around it. Grashk, usually stoic, couldn''t hide his amazement. "We came from other dimensions?" Volk nodded, his eyes dark and thoughtful. "That''s what the Warlocks did. They summoned us from other worlds. But our race was too strong for them. To weaken us, they took our horns¡ªour source of power. Without our horns, we couldn''t awaken our true form. And the proof of that was we are often called the Hornless Orc tribe." The Orcs listened, and then their faces changed; their eyes widened, and their mouths opened wide. However, immediately, in a split second, it was replaced with an expression painted with a mixture of curiosity and anger. One of the Orcs, his voice a low growl, asked, "What about the Grum-gar form? What is it really?" Volk''s gaze drifted to the ground for a moment, then he continued. "The Grum-gar form isn''t what we think it is. It''s a replacement. We used to have something called the Diabolical form, but without our horns, we lost it. The Warlocks replaced it with the Ogre form." At this, several Orcs grunted in frustration. The idea that their form was merely a substitute, an inferior version of something greater, was difficult to stomach. Grashk, his brow furrowed, muttered, "They took our horns, took our strength, and left us with this?" Volk looked at his hands, flexing his fingers carefully. "Maybe this skin... maybe this is how our ancestors looked, before the Warlocks weakened us. Or maybe, after running from the Warlocks and Dark Elves, our ancestors went to hazardous places, causing our skins to turn to hazardous skins." And then, Grashk would add, "and the reason we only survive those places was because of the Elven Witches? The elves who turned into elves that cannot go or survive in other hazardous places?" Volk would nod. There are normal elves here, but there are elven witches too, which are entirely different. The difference is that the elves have adapted to the hazardous magic particles of the forest; the more hazardous magic they possess, the stronger they become. However, the elven witches are born, but not adapted, to the hazardous magic particles of the forest. They are the ones who help the Orcs hide from being hunted, and in exchange, the Orcs work for them until they become one in their way of living. Suddenly, a loud chime rang in Volk''s mind. | Ding! | Mission: Survive the first wave of the beasts. | Rewards: Automatic cleansing of the Dreadmaw Clan. | Failure: Hazardous Skin. | Volk blinked, the words flashing before his eyes. Automatic cleansing? He had an idea what it meant, like cleaning other Dreadmaw Clan members, right? But there was no time to think. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A deafening trumpet roar echoed through the tunnels, sending shivers down the spines of every Orc present. AAAAAAANNNNGGGHHHHH!!! The ground trembled beneath their feet as the sound grew louder, more menacing. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! Grounad''s voice cut through the tension, filled with urgency. "Volk, to fuse with this catacomb and survive the travel, we need to protect you! We have to fight these beasts¡ªto the death if necessary!" Volk, bewildered, could hardly process Grounad''s words before a massive shadow loomed at the entrance of the cave. A gigantic magical elephant emerged, its skin crackling with magical energy. Its tusks were razor-sharp, and its eyes burned with an otherworldly glow. This was no ordinary beast. Grounad gasped, recognizing it immediately. "That''s a Magruphants! A level five, as strong as one of our peak Mag''Durotan Orcs!" The Dreadmaw Clan braced themselves, weapons ready, but something felt off. The Magruphants were supposed to be nearly unstoppable, yet as it charged, something seemed... different. The massive creature charged with a speed they didn''t expect. Its huge feet pounded against the ground, creating tremors that knocked smaller rocks loose from the cave walls. "RRROOOOAARRRR!" the elephant bellowed, its sound echoing like a thunderstorm in the enclosed space. One of the Orcs, expecting to be thrown back by its sheer momentum, grabbed hold of the creature''s tusk as it sped past. The Orc, whose name was Druk''Kar, held tight, and to everyone''s shock, the massive beast came to a stop. "What the...?" Druk''Kar gasped, his face contorting in disbelief. "How... how am I going to stop it?" The other Orcs, including Volk, stared, completely dumbfounded. "It''s an elephant! It should be stronger than us!" Grashk exclaimed, stepping forward with wide eyes. Volk narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. "Something''s wrong... Handle it alone, Druk''Kar. We need to see how strong our new form is." Druk''Kar swallowed nervously but nodded. He took a deep breath, immediately his muscles tensed as he gripped the Mag''Durotan. With a sudden burst of strength, he threw the elephant across the cave. "RRRRROOOOOAAARRR!" the beast let out another ear-splitting roar, this time in pain as it crashed into the wall with a loud thud. Read latest stories on m_v-l''e|-NovelFire.net The ground shook as dust and debris rained down from the cave ceiling. The other Orcs stood frozen, their mouths agape. Volk and the others were speechless. How could Druk''Kar have done that? He was only third stage Mag''Durotan! Third stage! How did he throw one of the Magruphant easily when it should be comparable to one of them in peak, which is Fifth Mag''Durotan stage! "How did he...?" Grashk whispered, staring at the scene in awe. Volk, still watching the downed elephant, muttered, "Have we... become stronger?" The Magruphant staggered to its feet, shaking off the rubble. Its eyes burned with raging fury, and it let out another roar, preparing to charge again. "ROOOOAARR!" it bellowed, louder this time, the rage palpable in its voice. But before it could make its move, another Orc, a smaller one named Rak''gor, stepped forward. His eyes burned with determination. "Let me deal with it next." Without waiting for a response, Rak''gor charged at the beast. Despite his smaller stature, he moved with incredible speed, with his feet barely making a sound against the stone floor. The Magruphant trumpeted in anger, but Rak''gor was already on it. He leaped into the air, delivering a flurry of strikes to the beast''s neck and chest. Each blow landed with mean destruction, and the massive elephant staggered under the assault. In mere moments, Rak''gor put the beast on the ground, his fists and feet a blur as he relentlessly pummeled the creature. And not long, the elephant let out one final trumpeting wail before collapsing in a heap, utterly defeated. "RRRRUUUUUHHHHHHHH..." the elephant moaned in its final moments, the sound of its defeat resounded through the whole catacombs. The Orcs stood in stunned silence, watching the scene unfold. Rak''gor, panting but uninjured, stepped back, his fists clenched at his sides. "How did you...?" one of the Orcs asked, unable to finish the question. Rak''gor shrugged, still catching his breath. "I don''t know... I just felt... stronger." Volk exchanged glances with the others, their confusion mirrored in each other''s eyes. Whatever had just happened, it was clear that they had changed¡ªbecome something more. But there was no time to reflect. From the dark recesses of the tunnels, a new sound emerged¡ªthe rumbling of footsteps, the roars of unknown magical beasts, growing louder and closer with every passing second as they stood there and wait. Grounad, his face pale, turned to Volk. "They''re coming..." Volk drew his weapon, with his heart pounding. Chapter 98: New Orcs The ground rumbled beneath their feet as the sound of approaching beasts grew louder. Tugudug! Tugudug! Tugudug! The tunnel was alive with anticipation, the very walls vibrating with the energy of the coming battle. The Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan, now standing shoulder to shoulder, prepared to meet the onslaught head-on. "READY! DREADMAW CLAN!" Their faces were lit with the thrill of combat, and their eyes burned with intensity. Suddenly, as if on cue, the deafening roar of the approaching horde reached them. ONGGAAARRRRGGG!! RANGGGAAAANNGRGG!! AAARRNNNGGGHH!!! Magical beasts, pulsating with arcane energy, spilled from the shadows of the catacomb. The Dreadmaw Clan Orcs could see their forms were twisted, monstrous creatures with glowing eyes, sharp claws, and crackling energy flowing through their bodies. Some were large enough to rival the elephants they had fought earlier, while others slithered, their bodies trailing magic like smoke. The Orcs raised their weapons in unison, and a single battle cry tore through the air like a thunderclap. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!" The cry echoed throughout the cavern, a sound so primal that even the beasts seemed momentarily staggered by the sheer force of it. Volk, standing among them, clenched his fists and prepared to leap into the fray. But just as he was about to move forward, Grashk grabbed his arm, his voice urgent. "Volk! No! You''re fusing with the catacomb, remember? You are the target. Just defend yourself if ever some of them pass through. Let us handle this." Volk hesitated for a moment, his instincts screaming at him to fight. But then he nodded, stepping back as the other Orcs surged past him, weapons gleaming. "Go," Volk muttered, "show them what true Orcs are made of." And then, like a flood of fury and muscle, the Dreadmaw Clan charged forward into the heart of the beast horde. Bone clubs clanked, and shields smashed as the two forces collided in a symphony of chaos. ¡­ The battle was like nothing Volk had ever seen. From his vantage point of the whole center of the catacomb, he could see everything¡ªthe wild movements of the beasts, the calculated strikes of the Orcs, and the strange, otherworldly glow of the catacomb''s magic swirling around him. At first, the Orcs seemed taken aback by the sheer ferocity of the magical beasts. The creatures were relentless, their attacks imbued with chaotic magical energy, beams of arcane light flashing through the air. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Grashk narrowly dodged a strike from one of the larger beasts, its talon-like claws crackling with energy as it slashed through the air. Grok''Thar, locked in a struggle with a beast twice his size, grunted, "These beasts... they''re strong!" But as the Orcs began to push back, something unexpected happened. One of the beasts, a wolf-like creature with glowing fur, snapped at Grashk, its jaws crackling with electricity. The moment the beast''s teeth made contact, the energy dissipated, as if absorbed into Grashk''s body. He stood there, wide-eyed for a moment, and then a slow, confident grin spread across his face. "Their magic... it''s useless!" Grashk shouted, his voice booming with excitement. The other Orcs, hearing this, began testing the waters. More beasts lunged at them with their magical abilities, only to find that their attacks did little more than tickle the hardened Orc skin. Orc after Orc shrugged off magic-infused blows, their laughter growing louder with each failed attempt from the beasts. One Orc, who had been hit by a bolt of energy that would have incinerated any lesser being, turned to his comrade with a grin. "I barely felt that!" Another Orc, who had just cut down a beast with a single swing of his axe, bellowed with laughter. "This is amazing! We''re unstoppable!" The Dreadmaw Clan quickly shifted from cautious fighting to full-on exhilaration. Their movements became more fluid, their strikes more precise, as they realized just how resilient they had become. What had started as a grueling fight for survival had turned into an all-out slaughter, and the Orcs reveled in it. Grashk, cleaving through another beast, looked over at Volk and shouted, "They can''t hurt us, Volk! These beasts are nothing!" Volk watched, his fists clenched at his sides, the tension within him slowly dissipating as he saw his warriors in action. The Orcs fought with such ferocity and joy that it was hard not to feel the same surge of adrenaline. For the first time in a long while, Volk allowed himself to smile. "Is this the power of the new skin?" ¡­ The Orcs tore through the beast horde like a tidal wave of muscle and steel. Each time a beast lunged at them with fangs or claws crackling with energy, it was met with a counter-strike that left it bleeding on the cave floor. Axes swung, swords stabbed, and with every downed beast, the Orcs grew more and more confident. "Look at that one!" Rak''gor shouted, pointing at a massive bear-like beast that had tried to ambush them from the side. "It thought it could sneak up on me! Ha! Foolish creature!" With a mighty swing of his axe, Rak''gor cleaved the beast''s head clean off. Grok''Thar, wiping blood from his blade, grinned at Grashk. "I never thought fighting could be this fun!" Grashk, breathing heavily but still grinning, nodded. "It''s like we''ve been reborn. Stronger, faster... I''ve never felt anything like it." One of the smaller Orcs, still catching his breath after slaying a beast twice his size, added, "I didn''t even break a sweat! Did you see the way that thing tried to claw me? Hah! Weak!" Stay tuned for updates on m-v l|-NovelFire.net The Orcs shared laughter, their voices echoing off the walls of the cave. The tension of the battle was gone, replaced with camaraderie and the thrill of victory. They slapped each other on the back, recounting their kills with pride. "That one tried to bite my arm off!" an Orc said with a chuckle, flexing his arm as if to show how unscathed he was. "I saw it! Looked like it was chewing on a rock!" another Orc added, his laughter loud and contagious. Even Volk, standing at the back, felt the weight of the situation lift. His warriors had not only survived¡ªthey had thrived. Whatever had happened to them in the catacomb, it had made them stronger, more resilient than ever before. It wasn''t just about survival anymore. This was a revelation. They had been granted new strength, new power, and they were using it to carve a path through their enemies with ease. --- As the last of the beasts fell to the ground, the Orcs erupted into cheers, their weapons raised high in triumph. They gathered together, sharing stories of their exploits with wide grins and hearty laughs. Rak''gor, his voice booming, shouted, "We''ve become legends this day!" "We could fight anything now! Bring us more!" another Orc yelled, pounding his chest with pride. "Magical beasts? Bah! They''re nothing to us now!" Grashk declared, his voice full of pride. The atmosphere was vibrant, alive with the energy of their victory. The Orcs celebrated openly, their voices filling the cave like a storm. But just as the cheering reached its peak, a single voice cut through the noise like a dagger. A deep, unfamiliar feminine voice echoed from the shadows, chilling in its calmness. "A new kind of Orcs?" Chapter 99: Captured Earlier, before all these, the Dreadmaw Clan had settled into what was supposed to be a period of uneasy waiting. Deep within the ancient stone chambers, where the air was thick with dust and the scent of old earth, the older members of the clan had gathered together, attempting to maintain a calm front. Their mission had been simple: stay hidden, wait for the conflict between the Red Elven Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches to run its course, and then return home when the skies were clear. But the Labor Orc named Volk seemed to have other plans. The younger generation of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, restless and itching for action, followed their leader Volk with a mixture of excitement and confusion. They sprinted down the winding tunnels, their boots thudding loudly against the stone, trying to keep pace with Volk''s massive strides, leaving their wives behind. His body radiated purpose, and his eyes burned with determination. But no one knew where he was leading them. "Why are we running?" one of the younger Orcs gasped, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he struggled to keep up. "I thought we were just supposed to wait," another chimed in, his voice tinged with panic. "We were supposed to stay here and lay low!" Despite the growing uncertainty, they continued to follow Volk deeper into the catacombs, moving farther from the safety of the main clan gathering. The path grew darker, narrower, and more treacherous, as if they were descending into the bowels of the earth itself. ¡­ Meanwhile, back at the catacomb''s main chamber, the remaining Dreadmaw Clan Orcs and Elves were left with the unsettling realization that their protectors were gone. They huddled together in the dim light, exchanging anxious glances. The older Orcs, their muscles once bulging with strength but now weakened by years of battle, sat in silence, suppressing their physical energy to conserve it for them to stay in the dungeon. Solluha''r, Volk''s elven wife, left behind too, as Volk didn''t ask her to come with him. Her pale skin, smooth and silken like moonlight, was in stark contrast to the rough, battle-worn skin of her Orc kin. She had a slender, willowy frame, with silvery green hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her eyes, deep pools of emerald green, were filled with worry as she watched her husband''s retreating figure. "Volk¡­" Solluha''r whispered under her breath. But her voice, fragile like a leaf caught in the wind, was drowned out by the clamor of boots and heavy breathing. She didn''t understand. Why had Volk suddenly led the others away? What had changed? They were supposed to hide in the catacomb until the war between the Red Elven Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches had subsided. It was a strategy they had all agreed upon. And yet, Volk had chosen to run, to take the younger members of the clan with him, leaving the older and weaker Orcs, as well as the Elven allies, behind. Confusion swirled in her mind, but she pushed it aside. Her loyalty to Volk, to the Dreadmaw Clan, outweighed her doubts. She tightened her grip on the short sword at her side and pressed forward. The Elves tried to focus on defensive spells to reinforce their surroundings to protect themselves from the beasts. "Do you think they''ll come back?" one of the Elves asked, her voice shaky. "They have to," another replied. "My husband says he believes in Volk." But as the words left her lips, a strange tremor rippled through the ground beneath their feet. The walls of the catacomb groaned as if the very stones were waking from an ancient slumber. The air turned cold, and an oppressive darkness crept into the chamber, heavy and suffocating. Solluha''r had barely made it back to the main chamber when she felt it¡ªa pulse of magic, dark and malevolent, like a storm brewing on the horizon. She halted in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. "Something''s coming," one of the older Orcs muttered, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the shadows that now engulfed the room. Then, without warning, a figure emerged from the blackness. It was a woman, or at least the shape of one. Her body was wrapped in a cloak of shadows, and she rode upon a massive creature whose form was impossible to discern in the dim light. Its eyes, glowing crimson, burned like the fires of the underworld, and its growls reverberated through the catacomb, causing even the bravest Orcs to flinch. The figure raised a hand, and her voice rang out, cold and sharp as the edge of a blade. "Capture them." The moment the words left her lips, more shadows began to seep from the ground. They writhed and twisted, taking on the form of dark figures¡ªwarriors of shadow, their weapons gleaming with ethereal energy. The older Dreadmaw Orcs and Elves sprang to their feet, weapons drawn, ready to defend their clan. Sollahha''r stood at the forefront, her heart racing. She drew her sword, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. Her mind was focused on the safety of her people, but something dread crept into her soul. Volk¡­ where are you? Before anyone could react, the shadow warriors lunged forward. The clash of steel rang out through the chamber as Orcs and Elves alike fought back with every ounce of strength they had left. But they were no match for the creatures of darkness. The shadow warriors moved with unnatural speed and grace, their forms shifting and flowing like water, making them nearly impossible to strike. One by one, the Dreadmaw Clan fell, their weapons slipping from their hands as the shadow warriors overwhelmed them. And as each one fell, a dark mark, a tattoo of swirling black ink, appeared on their skin. The magic that bound them was ancient and powerful, a curse that sapped their strength and left them helpless. Sollahha''r fought with everything she had, her blade cutting through the air with precision, but even she could not withstand the onslaught for long. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The shadow warriors surrounded her, their glowing red eyes fixed on her as they moved in for the kill. Just as she thought all hope was lost, she felt a pulse of magic¡ªstrong and familiar. Volk. He was still out there, still fighting. As the shadow warriors closed in, Solluha''r dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together, her voice barely above a whisper. She prayed, not to any gods, but to Volk. "Where are you, Volk?" she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. "Please¡­ come back to us." The shadows loomed closer, and just before they struck, Solluha''r felt a surge of warmth deep within her chest. It was faint, but it was there¡ªa connection to Volk, a bond that had not been severed despite the distance between them. It gave her hope, even as the darkness swallowed her whole. Your next chapter awaits on m v|l--NovelFire.net --- Far away, deep in the twisting corridors of the catacomb, Volk felt it too. The tug on his soul, the faint whisper of his wife''s voice in his mind. He didn''t know what had happened back in the main chamber, but he knew one thing for certain: his clan needed him. His eyes narrowed, and he gripped his axe tighter. There was no turning back now. He still have a mission to do or the Dreadmaw Clan would be turn into pieces. Chapter 100: Dark Elven Witch Now, in the present, Volk stood frozen in his spot. However, his eyes narrowed intently as he scanned the shadows for the source of the voice. It was feminine, smooth and sounded like there was a tone of mocking in it, yet with an underlying tone of authority that made the hairs on his neck stand up was combined with it too. Discover stories with m,v l''e-NovelFire.net He turned, immediately, his body tensed, and his gaze settled on a figure emerging from the darkness. She was tall and slender, her skin a deep, dusky hue that seemed to drink in the dim light of the catacomb. Her eyes gleamed with an eerie glow, a cold and calculating intelligence dancing in their depths. Her hair, long and as dark as midnight, cascaded down her back, interwoven with silver strands that shimmered like stars caught in the night sky. She wore a flowing, obsidian cloak that seemed to ripple like living shadows, and beneath it, her armor clung tightly to her lithe frame, forged from some strange, dark metal that seemed to hum with latent magic. But what stood out most was the massive black wolf beneath her, with its eyes glowing dangerously with the same eerie light as its rider''s. Its fur was as dark as coal, rippling with muscle and power, and each slow step it took sends a low, ominous rumble through the ground that could be felt in the whole catacomb. The beast''s fangs gleamed menacingly, long and sharp, ready to tear through flesh. The woman gazed at them with an almost detached curiosity, as though they were nothing more than an amusing distraction. "What kind of Orcs are you?" she asked, with a soft and calm, dangerous purr. "Why are your colors different? I''ve never seen a color like yours. I''ve seen green, red, yellow, brown, etc., depending on the radioactive places or habitats they are hiding in. But I''ve never seen anyone like yours?" Volk said nothing, his instincts screaming at him that something was very wrong. He kept his eyes locked on her, the grip on his axe tightening. Before he could respond, a movement stirred behind the woman. A group of Orcs and Elves emerged from the shadows, their bodies adorned with intricate tattoos that glowed faintly in the darkness. The designs twisted and coiled around their arms and faces, pulsing in time with the magic in the air. Their expressions were stern, their postures protective as they flanked the woman on both sides. Volk''s breath caught in his throat. The tattoos... he recognized them Not just the tattoos, but the Orcs and Elves too. They looked very familiar. However, the shock didn''t come from the glowing ink alone. It was the faces. The Orcs and Elves clothings¡­ The clothes¡­ far too familiar. Grounad, standing next to Volk, gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You..." Volk turned to Grounad, his brow furrowing. "What''s wrong?" Grounad''s voice was low, shaky. "They... they''re from Bloodfang Clan, the same Bloodfang clan I came from." Volk blinked, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. "What?" Grounad swallowed hard, his eyes darting between the Orcs and Elves standing beside the woman. "That''s Grommash," he said, nodding toward a hulking Orc with deep scars running across his chest. "And that one is Murok." He pointed to another Orc, smaller but with a vicious gleam in his eye. "These... these were once our brothers." Volk''s jaw clenched, a knot of dread forming in his gut. "The Bloodfang Clan? But they were¡ª" "Dead," Grounad finished, his voice grim. "Or so we thought. But no, now I could see that they... they''ve joined her." His eyes flicked to the woman on the wolf. "A Dark Elven Witch." Volk''s heart skipped a beat. "What?" Grounad''s face was pale, his voice barely above a whisper. "She... she''s one of the Dark Elven Witches. They don''t have horns like the other normal dark elves but they are far more dangerous to the point that they erased all the dark elves. They are the ones who... enslave others too." The woman''s lips curled into a small smile, as if pleased by their recognition. "Right," she said, her voice carrying a chilling authority. "But still, I ask again, what kind of Orcs are you? Your skin... your strength. It''s different." Her eyes gleamed with curiosity as she examined them, her gaze lingering on Volk, studying him as if he were a puzzle she was eager to solve. Before Volk could respond, one of the Orcs standing beside her, a towering brute with a vicious snarl, spoke up. "They are the Dreadmaw Clan," he said, his voice rough and filled with disdain. He pointed at Grounad, his sneer widening. "And he... he''s from the Bloodfang Clan too. A traitor. He abandoned us to join them." The woman''s eyebrows lifted in surprise, her smile widening. "Dreadmaw Clan, you say? I thought I had already... tamed them." The Orc beside her nodded. "They were in the back, following. They are the weakest of the Hornless Orcs tribe, my lady." The woman tilted her head slightly, her eyes never leaving Volk. "Weakest, you say?" The Orc turned toward her, bowing slightly. "Should I fetch them for the master, my lady?" The respect in his voice was palpable, as though he would lay down his life for her without hesitation. Every movement, every word from the Orcs and Elves around her radiated loyalty and devotion. Volk notices their movements and as they stare at her, like shadow slaves, they are silent but the same time they are watchful too, ready to act on her command. The woman''s smile grew, her eyes glinting with a dangerous amusement. "No need." Then she continued, "Why are their skins not green like the others?" The Orc lowered his head respectfully and said, "I''m afraid I don''t have any idea, my lady¡­" The dark elven witch, still smiling, suddenly paused, and her smile faded as she looked at the Orc and asked, "You don''t know?" The Orc, clearly perspiring, nodded hesitantly. But then, immediately, his head fell to the ground with a thud, followed by his muscular body. Kabang! Suddenly, the dark elven witch ordered the others behind her, saying, "Get them!" She added, "Just... beat them down. Weaken them." Her voice was casual and dismissive. "Once they''ve been softened up, I can tame them myself." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as his mind began to ran a speed of thoughts. He couldn''t allow this. He couldn''t let her take them. As she finished speaking, she turned her gaze away for just a moment, her focus shifting to the Orcs behind her, clearly expecting them to obey. It was that moment that Volk seized. Without a second thought, his hand shot out, gripping the handle of his axe. He swung with all his might, hurling it through the air toward the woman, the blade spinning end over end, a blur of deadly steel. For a split second, time seemed to slow. The woman''s eyes widened, with her mouth opening in surprise. The Orcs and Elves around her tensed, some reaching for their weapons, others gasping in shock. The axe hurtled through the air, its deadly arc aimed straight at her chest. And then¡ª Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 101: One Sided beatdown Volk''s axe sailed through the air with deadly precision, spinning toward the Dark Elven Witch as if it were a force of nature. But just as the blade was about to meet its target, something unnatural happened. Washileak! A thick, gnarled branch¡ªblack as midnight¡ªshot out from the ground and wrapped itself around the handle, halting the axe mid-flight. Grooaakk! The wood groaned, cracking under the sudden weight of Volk''s swing, but held firm. Volk''s eyes widened in surprise, but the moment of hesitation didn''t last long. With a growl that echoed through the catacombs, "AARRRGGGHH!!" he shot forward, his massive frame blurring with the speed of his movement. His hands gripped the handle of his axe again, and with a single powerful yank, he ripped it free from the grasp of the black branch, snapping it in half as if it were nothing but a twig. Without missing a beat, Volk brought the axe down toward the Dark Elven Witch, aiming for her head. BANG! The force of the blow was enough to crack stone, but just as the blade was about to connect with her, it stopped. An invisible forcefield, shimmering faintly in the air, held the axe mere inches from her face. CLAAAASSSSSKK!! "Huh?" Volk grunted, his brow furrowing in confusion. The Dark Elven Witch smiled, a smug, condescending grin that made Volk''s blood boil. But Volk wasn''t done yet. His new skin, his newfound strength¡ªit all surged through him in that moment, pushing him beyond his limits. With a roar of fury, "RAAAAAAGGHHH!!" he slammed the axe down again, this time with all the power his body could muster. Crack! The forcefield shattered like glass, and though the axe never touched the witch, the sheer power behind it alone sent her flying backward. She crashed into the stone wall of the catacomb with a deafening BANG, a cloud of dust and debris rising around her. Her wolf, left alone as its rider was thrown, snarled viciously, its glowing eyes fixed on Volk. Volk landed on the ground with a thud, his boots sending up small clouds of dirt. He stood tall, his chest heaving, and righteously raised his axe high above his head. The battle cry that followed shook the very walls of the cavern. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" The Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, who had been momentarily stunned by the sight of their leader hurling a Dark Elven Witch across the catacomb, snapped out of their stupor. One by one, they raised their weapons high, with their voices joining Volk''s in a thunderous chorus. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" The black wolf, seeing its chance, lunged at Volk, its teeth bared and claws outstretched. But Volk had already seen it coming. With a deft sidestep, he evaded the beast''s charge and, using the wolf''s own momentum against it, grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and hurled it to the side. Kabam! The wolf slammed into a nearby rock formation with a yelp, shaking the stones loose. Before Volk could catch his breath, the tattooed Orcs and Elves that flanked the Dark Elven Witch sprang into action. The Orcs charged, their fists and weapons raised, while the Elves hung back, weaving intricate spells in the air, their hands glowing with arcane energy. The first tattooed Orc came at Volk with a massive war hammer, swinging it down toward his head. Volk parried the blow with his axe, the clash of metal against metal ringing through the chamber. KACHANG!! The force of the impact would have crushed any normal Orc''s arm, but Volk felt nothing more than a slight twinge in his muscles. His new skin¡ªthe strange, almost otherworldly hue¡ªhad made him stronger, tougher. He grinned as he pushed back against the Orc, sending him stumbling backward. Another Orc, this one smaller but quicker, darted in from the side, a wickedly sharp dagger aimed at Volk''s ribs. Volk barely had time to react, twisting his body at the last second to avoid the strike. The blade glanced off his skin, leaving only a shallow scratch where it should have pierced deep. Volk swung his axe in retaliation, catching the Orc in the chest and sending him crashing to the ground with a pained grunt. GUSSSHH!! Meanwhile, the Elves were launching their magical assaults. Bolts of fiery energy and tendrils of shadow shot toward the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, each spell designed to break their defenses. But to the shock of the Elves, the Orcs didn''t fall. Their new skin, resistant to magic in ways they had never experienced before, shrugged off the worst of the attacks. What would have once seared flesh now left nothing more than a stinging sensation. Grashk was the first to laugh, his voice booming as he deflected a bolt of lightning with his shield. "Their magic''s useless! Come on, lads! Show these weaklings what true Orc strength looks like!" The Dreadmaw Clan Orcs roared in response, charging forward with renewed vigor. The battle became a brutal melee, axes clashing with swords, fists meeting flesh, and the sounds of combat filling the air. Volk fought at the front, his axe cleaving through the tattooed Orcs with savage precision. Every swing was filled with the weight of his new power, each blow knocking his enemies back like ragdolls. One of the tattooed Elves, desperate to turn the tide, conjured a massive fireball and hurled it toward Volk. The searing heat of the spell lit up the cavern, and for a moment, it seemed like nothing could stop it. But Volk didn''t flinch. As the fireball neared, he swung his axe in a wide arc, cutting through the magical flames as if they were nothing but smoke. The spell dissipated, leaving the Elf wide-eyed and defenseless. Volk didn''t give her a second chance¡ªhis axe cut through the Elf''s chest, sending her sprawling to the ground. All around Volk, the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs were overpowering their foes. Grashk had taken on two tattooed Orcs at once, his massive fists smashing into their faces with bone-crunching force. Grounad, who had been hesitant at first, now fought with a savage intensity, his blade cutting down a group of Elves who had tried to surround him. The battle raged on, but it was clear that the Dreadmaw Clan had the upper hand. Their new strength, their resistance to magic¡ªit had turned the tide in their favor. And as they fought, they reveled in the newfound power coursing through their veins. "Did you see that?" one Orc shouted as he smashed an Elf to the ground. "I took three of them at once!" "Ha! I felt nothing from their magic!" another bellowed, swinging his club at a tattooed Orc''s head. "It''s like we''ve been reborn!" The Orcs laughed and shouted, their voices filled with pride and excitement as they cut down their enemies. The slaughter was intense, but it was also joyous. The Dreadmaw Clan had never felt stronger, more invincible. They were unstoppable. But just as the last of the tattooed Orcs and Elves fell to the ground, with their blood staining the stone floor, the vibrant atmosphere was shattered. A cold, eerie silence fell over the cavern, and Volk turned his head, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. Stay connected through m-v l|e''-NovelFire.net S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Dark Elven Witch stood up slowly, her body bruised but very much alive. Her wolf, limping but still fierce, growled beside her. Her eyes, wide with shock, were fixed on Volk and his Orcs. "What... What kind of Orcs are you all?" she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief. Chapter 102: Declaration Meanwhile, back in the chaos of the present, the tension in the air thickened as the Dark Elven Witch''s curiosity grew into something more sinister. Her eyes, cold and calculating, roamed over the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, now standing defiantly before her, their new strengths barely contained beneath their hardened new skins. Volk could feel her magic stirring, the gathering of power in the space between them. And then¡ªthere, he saw it¡ªa faint glow in her hands, forming ominous magic circles, pulsing with dark energy. "Watch out!" Volk roared, his voice carrying across the battlefield with desperation, but the warning came too late. Without warning, the ground beneath them trembled violently, cracking open as thick, black roots erupted from the earth like serpents. Kragam! They shot upward with terrifying speed, twisting and writhing as they sought to ensnare the Orcs. Kwishick! Kwischick! The roots move with purpose to swallow them, reaching out like the claws of some vengeful beast, trying to drown them in a tide of nature''s wrath. Volk moved swiftly, his massive axe cutting through the air with a sharp whoosh! He swung it in a powerful arc, cleaving through the roots in one clean strike. Thwack! The severed roots writhed and shriveled away, but no sooner had they fallen than more erupted from the ground, thicker and more aggressive. The other Dreadmaw Clan Orcs were quick to follow Volk''s lead. Their weapons¡ªswords, clubs, axes¡ªflashed in the dim light, each swing met with the snap and crack of the invading roots. Yet for every root they destroyed, twice as many would replace it, surging forth like an unrelenting tidal wave. "Hold fast!" Grashk shouted as he smashed his warhammer into the earth, breaking the roots beneath his feet. "Don''t let them trap you!" Despite the relentless assault, Volk noticed something in the witch''s expression¡ªa flicker of surprise, as if she hadn''t anticipated the Orcs'' resilience. Her dark lips twisted into a smirk, though there was a glint of confusion in her eyes. ''These Orcs¡­ they''re stronger than they should be,'' she mumbled. The thought crossed her mind as she watched them fend off her magic with increasing ferocity. Normally, her roots would overwhelm her enemies¡ªlike these hornless Orcs within moments, but here they were¡ªOrcs¡ªslashing and hacking their way through her most potent spells. Volk''s muscles strained as he fought back the roots, his chest heaving with every swing. His new skin, thick and pulsing with power, gave him strength he had never known before. He could feel it in his bones¡ªthe legacy of something ancient, something primal. This was not just a fight for survival; this was a revelation. "Why won''t you just stay down!" the witch hissed through gritted teeth, her voice laced with frustration. She raised her hands again, and this time, the roots responded with even greater intensity, snaking their way toward the Orcs'' legs, trying to pull them to the ground. "Gah!" one of the Dreadmaw Orcs, Thrak, grunted as a root coiled around his ankle, yanking him down with such force that he nearly lost his balance. But he quickly regained his footing, slashing the root away with his jagged blade. "No matter how many roots you summon, we''ll cut them all down!" Volk growled, his eyes blazing with fury as he slammed his axe into the ground, severing a particularly thick root that had shot toward him. The Dark Elven Witch''s eyes widened ever so slightly. This was not how things were supposed to go. These Orcs¡ªthey weren''t like the ones she had encountered before. The ones she controlled were brute force and rage, yes, but these¡­ These were something different. Could it be? The Dark Elven Witch flinched. These Orcs had evolved¡ªchanged, somehow¡ªand their strength had increased tenfold. She narrowed her eyes, her expression darkening. "What kind of Orcs are you?" she muttered under her breath. Then, louder, her voice rising with fury and intrigue, "What kind of Orcs are you?!" She took a step forward, with her magic flaring around her like a shroud of darkness. The Orcs didn''t answer her. They were too busy fighting for their lives, breaking free from the black roots that continued to spawn from the ground. But Volk, amidst the chaos, met her gaze with a look of pure defiance. "What are you?" she repeated, but this time, her voice held a note of amusement, as if she had come to enjoy this unexpected turn of events. She flexed her fingers, and the magic circle around her hands glowed brighter, crackling with dark energy. Volk, sensing the danger, prepared himself for another wave of attacks, but before he could react, the Dark Elven Witch began to speak. Her voice rose, filled with venom and a twisted kind of glee. "I am Urza''lin of the Dark Elven Witches!" she declared, her voice echoing off the walls of the catacomb. "My mission was simple: capture all the Elves and Orcs hiding in these pathetic tunnels, and then drag your worthless hides outside to serve as my pawns in the war against the Red Elven Warlocks!" Her voice grew louder, more intense with every word, filling the chamber with her presence. "But what do I find instead? Something far more interesting¡ªa new kind of Orc! Orcs with power I have never seen before! You were not part of the plan, but now that you''re here, I will capture all of you and make you my soldiers, whether you like it or not!" Her words were punctuated by a surge of magic. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The roots swelled again, this time spiraling upward like a massive wave ready to crash down upon the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs. The Orcs braced themselves for the next assault, their weapons at the ready, but something shifted in Urza''lin''s expression. Her eyes flicked downward, and she suddenly noticed something peculiar. The Orcs she had been controlling¡ªthose marked by her tattoos¡ªlay scattered on the ground, defeated but alive. The Dreadmaw Clan had fought them, but they hadn''t killed them. "Hmph." Urza''lin tilted her head slightly, a curious smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You didn''t kill them," she murmured to herself. "Why? Are you holding back? Or are you simply foolish?" After a careful observation, she nodded, ''They only made them unconscious so they won''t turn into Grum-gar form?'' Her eyes glittered with a dangerous idea. She raised a hand, her fingertips glowing with dark magic. "Should I activate their Grum-gar form and watch them tear you all apart instead?" she mused, her voice barely more than a whisper. But then she shook her head, dismissing the thought. "No¡­ no, not yet. I''ll save that for later, when I face the Warlocks. It will be much more entertaining then." Despite her amusement, she could feel a frustration. She had no immediate way to capture these new Orcs¡ªnot while they were in such a heightened state of power. But then, her eyes lit up as another idea struck her. Suddenly, she turned, her gaze locking onto a group of Orcs emerging from the shadows behind her. These were the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs. Read exclusive content at m_v-l''-NovelFire.net These were tattooed, their bodies marked with dark runes, their skin gleaming with the same sickly glow as her magic. Urza''lin smiled, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Ah¡­ it seems I won''t need to rely on those roots after all." Volk and the others looked on in confusion as the tattooed Orcs moved into formation behind the Dark Elven Witch, their expressions blank, their bodies stiff with the rigid control of her magic. They were eerily silent, save for the faint hum of dark energy radiating from their tattoos. Urza''lin''s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "I''ll use your own clan against you instead!" And with that, the air around them seemed to grow even colder, as the tattooed Orcs prepared to strike. Chapter 103: Crystal Shockwave Volk''s axe swung through the air, slicing cleanly through the writhing black roots that erupted from the ground like dark serpents. "Ha!" "Ha!" "Ha!" His muscles strained, sweat beading on his brow as he hacked and slashed with relentless fury. The battlefield was a chaos of tangled roots, Orcs shouting battle cries, and magic crackling in the air like static electricity. "Haaaaaa!!" His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was sharp, his focus singular. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw them¡ªfamiliar figures emerging from the shadows of the catacomb entrance. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he faltered. The axe hung mid-swing, his arms frozen as recognition struck him like a hammer to the chest. The Dreadmaw Clan. The ones he had left behind at the entrance before taking on his mission of the system. And among them, his wife¡ªSolluha''r, the Elven Witch. Her pale skin glowed softly in the dim light, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and defiance. Beside her, other Elven witches stood, their gazes darting around the battlefield in disbelief. "Solluha''r¡­" Volk muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on his axe. His heart twisted, a sudden wave of emotion threatening to overpower him. Why are they here? he thought, panic creeping into his mind. They were supposed to stay safe. Away from all of this. Suddenly, Urza''lin''s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. "Who are the husbands or partners of these Orcs?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity and mockery. "Or are they even truly part of the Dreadmaw Clan?" The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, Solluha''r stepped forward. Her face was pale, but there was a determined set to her jaw. She walked with grace, despite the weight of fear that Volk could see in her eyes, she was obeying the Dark Elf for some unknown reason. Behind her, Mishina, the wife of Grounad, followed suit, along with several other Elf witches who had been with the Dreadmaw Clan for years. They stood before Urza''lin, their heads held high, though their bodies trembled with the weight of the moment. Continue your adventure at m|v-l''e -NovelFire.net Urza''lin''s smile widened, her dark eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "And who are your husbands among them?" she asked, her voice dripping with curiosity. For a brief, agonizing moment, there was silence. Then, as if summoned by some invisible force, Solluha''r and the other Elves turned and pointed directly at Volk and the Orcs behind him. Urza''lin''s laughter filled the cavern, echoing off the walls like the cawing of some great, malevolent bird. "Is that so?" she chuckled, her voice filled with mock surprise. "How delightful. And tell me, why is it that their skin¡­" She paused, her eyes narrowing as she gestured toward Volk and the other Orcs. "¡­is it so different from the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan? Why do they look nothing like the Orcs I''ve seen in other clans?" S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Solluha''r hesitated, her eyes flicking nervously to Volk. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice came out as little more than a whisper. "I¡­ I don''t know, Master Urza''lin." Urza''lin''s expression darkened at that, her amusement fading into annoyance. Her lips curled into a snarl, and for a moment, Volk felt his blood run cold. Was she going to kill Solluha''r? Would she punish her for not knowing the reason why the skin looked like this? Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, panic rising like bile in his throat. His grip tightened on the axe, his knuckles white. No¡­ no, she can''t. I won''t let her! But then, to Volk''s surprise, Urza''lin''s face softened. She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "So be it," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "It doesn''t matter." Her eyes flicked back to Volk and the other Orcs, and her smile returned, cold and calculating. "But tell me this," she said, her voice growing sharper. "Why do you Orcs and Elf witches fear Dark Elves witch like me? You cower before me, and yet here you stand, defiant. Why?" Volk didn''t answer. He couldn''t. He didn''t trust himself to speak, not when his mind was consumed by thoughts of Solluha''r. His hands moved on instinct, his axe swinging through the air as he continued to slash at the roots trying to entangle them. But his eyes¡­ his eyes never left Urza''lin. He could feel her gaze burning into him, waiting for a response. Yet he refused to give her the satisfaction. Urza''lin''s expression twisted with irritation. She was used to having power over others, to being the one in control, and Volk''s defiance grated on her like sand in an open wound. She watched him, her dark magic still swirling in the air around her, and she seethed at his refusal to acknowledge her. "Answer me!" she snapped, her voice echoing with fury. "Why do you resist? Why do you not fear me?" Still, Volk remained silent, his focus unwavering as he cleaved through another wave of roots. Suddenly, he would freeze. His eyes widened in surprise. The other Orcs around him did the same, their attention entirely on surviving the relentless onslaught. Urza''lin''s face contorted in rage. Her hands shot up, fingers cracking with dark energy, and the roots suddenly stopped moving, as if frozen in time. The battlefield went eerily quiet, save for the sound of labored breathing from both sides. Volk''s muscles tensed as the roots fell away, retreating back into the earth. For a brief moment, the Dreadmaw Clan stood in place, their weapons at the ready, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Urza''lin hadn''t stopped her attack out of mercy. No, there was something more at play here. As the silence stretched, Volk found himself standing still, his breath coming in slow, controlled waves. His heart pounded, but outwardly, he remained calm. Beside him, the other Orcs mirrored his stance, their faces impassive, unbothered. They were not afraid. Not anymore. In Volk''s mind, however, there was only one thought: I don''t need to answer her questions. I don''t need to understand her. Because her life¡­ her life will end here. The thought filled him with grim determination, his body tensing with the anticipation of battle. He was ready. Ready to bring down his axe with the force of a storm, to shatter whatever defenses she conjured, and to bring an end to this nightmare. And then, as if in response to his thoughts, something strange began to happen. Behind him, the crystal that had been pulsating faintly in the background suddenly flared to life. A low hum filled the air, growing louder with each passing second, until the ground beneath them began to tremble. Urza''lin''s gaze snapped to the crystal, her eyes widening in shock and confusion. "What¡­?" Volk''s breath caught in his throat as a massive shockwave erupted from the crystal, a pulse of pure energy radiating outward like the detonation of a bomb. BOOM! The entire cavern shook with the force of the explosion, and everything was thrown into chaos once more. However, the shockwave did nothing. But Volk wouldn''t let this opportunity go! He immediately charged straight at the Dark Elf, disappearing in front of her and reappearing behind her. Chapter 104: Not working Volk''s grip tightened on the Axe of Dissection, his breathing steady, with his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. The dark glint of Urza''lin''s eyes had faded, replaced with raw fear as she realized her imminent doom. The Dark Elven Witch stood frozen, her lips parted in shock as Volk loomed over her, his axe poised to decapitate her in one clean, brutal stroke. But then, a desperate voice cut through the tension. "Wait, Volk! DON''T KILL HER!" Grounad''s voice rang out, filled with urgency and panic. "If you do, everyone under her will be killed too!" Volk''s body froze, the blade of his axe hovering just inches above Urza''lin''s slender neck. His chest heaved with exertion, and for a split second, his thoughts warred between revenge and reason. Urza''lin, still cowering, blinked rapidly, her confusion mirrored by the Orcs behind Volk. Urza''lin slowly began to understand the situation. Her breathing was heavy, and her pale face contorted in shock. She had been so sure of her superiority, so confident in her control. But now? The tides had turned, and she was staring death in the face. "What¡­what are you doing?" she stammered, her voice laced with both fear and confusion. Volk''s gaze flickered to Grounad, confusion furrowing his brow. "Why?" he growled, his voice a low rumble. "Why shouldn''t I end her now?" Before Grounad could respond, Urza''lin, sensing her chance, began speaking rapidly, her tone shifting to one of a cruel confidence, though her body still trembled with fear. "Ah, of course, you don''t understand¡­ that''s why you fear us," she sneered. "The Dark Elven Witches. We are far superior to the likes of you, strange Orc!" Her voice grew louder, more taunting. "You think you can just kill me and be done? You''re mistaken, Orc!" She raised her head, a dark grin spreading across her face as she realized she had an opportunity to turn this moment in her favor. "We Dark Elven Witches are not like the lower-level witches you''re accustomed to. We are bound to those we control. If I die, every single one of the Orcs and Elves I command will die with me! You''ll be signing the death warrant of your entire clan. Your wives, your comrades¡ªthey will fall, one by one, their lives forfeit the moment my life ends." Volk''s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. He didn''t flinch under her words, though they hit him like a punch to the gut. Solluha''r¡­ his people. He couldn''t risk their lives. Urza''lin, seeing the hesitation in Volk''s face, pressed her advantage. "You don''t have a choice, Orc. Surrender now, or see your loved ones perish. My power is absolute! The Dreadmaw Clan, the Elves, everyone here¡ªthey are nothing but my slaves. They were born to serve me, to follow my every command. You are no different." Her voice grew more venomous as she continued. "Look at you. Strong, yes. Defiant, yes. But that won''t change your fate. You will be enslaved, like the rest. You think yourself powerful with that axe and strange skin? However, you cannot defy my magic. I will make you kneel before me, strange Orc!" Volk''s face remained impassive, though his heart was pumping blood so fast. He turned toward Grounad, his voice tight. "What do we do?" He could hear Urza''lin''s taunts, but he refused to let them break him. His thoughts were on Solluha''r, on his people¡ªhe couldn''t fail them. Grounad''s face was pale, his eyes wide with terror. "You¡­ you can''t kill her. But if you knock her unconscious, the bond should weaken enough for us to escape her control." Volk grunted in acknowledgment. He lifted the Axe of Dissection, adjusting his grip on the handle. The killing edge gleamed in the low light, but he flipped it in his hands, preparing to strike Urza''lin with the blunt side. One well-placed blow to the head, and she''d be out cold. But as he prepared to strike, a blur of movement caught his attention. The massive black wolf that had been standing guard at Urza''lin''s side lunged at him with terrifying speed, its jaws snapping shut around Volk''s arm with the force of a vice. Volk snarled in pain, trying to shake the creature off, but the wolf''s grip was unrelenting. Its fangs sank deeper, and it growled menacingly, blood dripping from its jaws. "Damn beast!" Volk roared, his muscles bulging as he tried to wrench the wolf off him. Just as he was about to crush its head with his free hand, something else happened. Black vines, thick and pulsating with dark energy, shot up from the ground behind the wolf. They wrapped around the beast, yanking it back and forcing it to release Volk''s arm. Volk glanced up in time to see Urza''lin standing several paces away, her face twisted in fury. "Damn you, Orc!" she screamed, her voice shrill with rage. "I will make you my eternal slave! And I''ll make sure you watch as I drain the life from your precious Elven witch!" She spat on the ground, venomous words pouring from her mouth. "You and your clan are nothing! Mere pawns to me. Born to serve! Born to die! I am Urza''lin, the greatest of the Dark Elven Witches. You will bow before me, or I will see every last one of your kin suffer in agony." Urza''lin''s power surged, her eyes glowing with dark magic. She began chanting, her hands weaving intricate spells in the air as the black roots surrounding them writhed and pulsed with greater intensity. "I will show you my true power!" she screeched, her voice reaching a fever pitch. "I will break you, Orc!" But something was wrong. Volk watched, his eyes narrowing as Urza''lin''s face shifted from fury to confusion. Find your next read on m_v l|e-NovelFire.net The magic swirling around her hands flickered, then sputtered. The black roots that had been poised to strike suddenly faltered, retreating back into the earth. "What¡­ what''s happening?" Urza''lin muttered, her voice trembling with uncertainty. She looked down at her hands, which were still raised in the air, but her magic was no longer responding. Volk was surprised, too. What was happening? Normally, the Elves and Orcs under her control should have been moving, but then he saw dark green liquid pouring from their bodies, and he realized what was happening. Boldly, he smiled and took a step forward, his grip tightening on the Axe of Dissection. His heart pounded, but a cold determination settled over him. "What''s the matter, Witch?" Vokn growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You don''t look so powerful now." Urza''lin''s eyes widened in shock as she frantically tried to summon her magic again. "No¡­ no, this isn''t possible. I control them. I control all of them!" But the Orcs and Elves that had been under her command were no longer responding to her. They stood still, their faces blank, their bodies no longer moving at her will. "What''s going on?" Urza''lin whispered, her voice filled with dread. She turned in a slow circle, looking at the battlefield in disbelief. "Why is my control not working? Why aren''t they obeying me?" Volk smiled grimly, taking another step forward. "Your time is up, Witch." Urza''lin''s eyes flickered with desperation, and for the first time since the battle began, true fear settled in her gaze. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 105: Kill! The cavern was filled with the low hum of dark magic, its oppressive presence radiating from Urza''lin as she prepared another spell, her desperation clear in every strained movement. Her eyes darted to the Orcs and Elves who had once been under her control. The tattoos that had bound them to her will were fading, vanishing like mist in the early morning sun. Suddenly, a voice rang out through the chaos, piercing the air with a mixture of excitement and fury. "VOLK! YOU CAN KILL HER! THE TATTOOS ON THEIR BODIES ARE GONE!" Grounad''s shout echoed across the cavern. Volk''s eyes blazed with renewed intensity. He didn''t need a second reminder. The moment those words left Grounad''s mouth, Volk was already moving, and his massive frame barreled forward like a war tank pouncing on every bullet shot. His Axe of Dissection glinted in the dim light of the catacombs, its edge thirsting for blood. Urza''lin''s eyes widened in terror as she saw the Orc charging toward her, his face a mask of grim determination. Panic set in, and she frantically began conjuring a spell. Her hands moved in frantic motions, weaving black vines from the ground that shot up like serpents, writhing and twisting through the air, their spiked ends aimed straight for Volk. "YOU DARE CHALLENGE ME, ORC?" she screamed, her voice laced with both fury and fear. The vines surged forward, hundreds of them, thick and pulsing with malevolent energy. But Volk was relentless. He swung his axe with a mighty roar, the blade cutting through the air with brutal efficiency. Swoosh! The first wave of vines was shredded to pieces as his weapon cleaved through them like they were nothing more than overgrown weeds. Black sap sprayed into the air, splattering across the rocky floor as the severed tendrils writhed and died. Urza''lin hissed, her eyes narrowing in fury. She raised both hands now, summoning even more vines. They erupted from the ground in a frenzied storm, thick as trees, lashing out at Volk from every direction. Some wrapped around his legs, others slithered toward his arms, trying to restrain him, to pull him down. But Volk was too strong. "RAAAAAH!" He bellowed, flexing his muscles and tearing through the roots with raw, savage power. His axe cut through them like a whirlwind of destruction, and for every vine that wrapped around him, he shattered two more. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" he shouted. The air was filled with the sounds of cracking roots, Volk''s furious grunts, and the snapping of dark magic. Urza''lin took a step back, sweat beading on her brow. Her breaths were coming in ragged gasps now. She hadn''t expected this¡ªthis brute strength, this unstoppable force. This strange Orc! This strange strong Orc! The magic she had planned to use against the Warlocks, she was forced to expend here, against a single Orc. And still, it wasn''t enough. "I didn''t plan¡­ I didn''t plan to use these on you!" she gasped, her voice trembling with both frustration and disbelief. "These¡­ These were for the Warlocks! You stupid Orc! You should''ve already been crushed by now!" But Volk didn''t stop. He wouldn''t stop. His eyes gleamed with fury, his lips curled in a vicious snarl. Another slash, another vine severed. He advanced on her, step by step, with each movement closing the gap between them. Experience more on m v|l -NovelFire.net Urza''lin''s heart pounded in her chest, her pulse throbbing wildly as she continued to conjure more vines. Her mana reserves were draining fast. Too fast. She had used so much of it already, not just in controlling the Orcs and Elves but in keeping herself alive. Her plan to enslave them, to use them as pawns against the Warlocks, was slipping through her fingers. Volk''s axe came down again, cutting through another wave of vines. His steps were heavy, each one shaking the ground as he tore through her defenses. "No¡­ no!" Urza''lin''s voice cracked as panic began to consume her. She reached deep into her remaining reserves of magic, pulling every last drop of mana she could muster. The black vines surged up once more, thicker and more twisted than before, their spiked tendrils wrapping around Volk''s arms and legs, trying to slow him down. But Volk wasn''t having it. With a roar that echoed through the entire cavern, he wrenched his arms free, shattering the vines with sheer brute strength. His muscles bulged, his veins popping as he powered through the last of her magic. His axe came down again, smashing the final wall of black roots that stood between him and Urza''lin. Urza''lin stumbled back, her legs shaking, her face pale. She had nothing left¡ªno mana, no strength. Her breaths were shallow, and she could feel her body weakening. "No¡­" she whispered, her voice barely audible now. "This¡­ can''t be¡­" Volk reached her in two strides. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow. Urza''lin''s lips quivered as she realized there was no escape. No more tricks. No more spells. Just the cold, hard reality of her defeat. But Volk didn''t swing his axe for the killing blow. Not yet. Instead, he stared down at her, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "You''ve done enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "It''s time for this to end." Urza''lin blinked, her heart racing. For a moment, she thought he was going to let her live. But then, she saw the shift in his stance, the tightening of his grip on the axe''s handle. He was going to knock her out, just as Grounad had suggested. Just as Volk lifted the axe to strike, there was a sudden, deafening BOOM that rocked the entire cavern. The ground trembled violently, sending shockwaves through the stone walls. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling as the force of the tremor shook the very foundation of the catacombs. Both Volk and Urza''lin stumbled, momentarily thrown off balance by the massive quake. "What¡­ what was that?!" Urza''lin gasped, her eyes wide with terror. Volk steadied himself, his grip tightening on the axe as he surveyed the cavern. The entire space seemed to groan and shift, as if the very earth itself was reacting to the battle. Fissures began to form in the ground, cracks spreading through the stone like veins of destruction. The cavern wasn''t just trembling anymore. It was collapsing. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Urza''lin, her breath shallow and frantic, looked around in disbelief. The magic that had been fueling the catacombs, the ancient dark forces she had hoped to harness for her own gain, were turning against her. The entire place was crumbling, the power she had sought to control now spiraling out of her grasp. "Yes¡­" she whispered again, her voice filled with malice, "this¡­ was supposed to happen!" Volk''s gaze was steady, unyielding. He raised the blunt end of his axe one last time, his eyes locked onto Urza''lin. And just as the cavern continued to shake, with the sound of collapsing stone growing louder, Volk brought the axe down toward Urza''lin''s head, determined to end this battle once and for all. But just as his weapon came down, a blinding flash of light erupted from the center of the cavern, and everything went white. Chapter 106: Crumbling The overwhelming white light consumed everything in sight. For a moment, Volk couldn''t feel the ground beneath his feet, nor the familiar weight of his Axe of Dissection in his hands. It was as though time and space had collapsed into a single point, erasing all sense of direction. His body floated, suspended in the void, with nothing to anchor him. Then, he heard her voice. Urza''lin. Her cold, mocking tone slithered into his mind like a poison, her words echoing in the vast emptiness. "Strange Orc," she began, her voice a low, malicious hum, "you''re stronger than I anticipated. You''ve pushed me farther than anyone has in centuries." The sound of her voice was filled with twisted admiration, the kind that was laced with bitterness and resentment. Volk''s muscles tensed instinctively, though his body still felt paralyzed by the white void that engulfed him. "But of course," she continued, her words growing sharper, "I''ve always been prepared. As an Elder Dark Elven Witch, I''ve lived through ages. Defeat? Ha! That''s a fleeting concept for lesser beings, for those unprepared. I, on the other hand, have always kept an ace in my sleeve." Volk tried to move, tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn''t respond. His frustration swelled as he strained against the invisible bonds holding him in place, his mind racing with fury. He could almost hear the sneer in her voice as she carried on, weaving her sinister narrative. "I never expected my carefully laid plans to be challenged by an Orc," Urza''lin continued, her voice dripping with disdain. "Of all creatures, you, an Orc, have come close to ruining everything. But it matters little now. You see, I always planned for this... for contingencies, for setbacks." She paused, as though relishing in the situation, savoring the power she still held over him. "The spell I''ve just cast," she said with a haughty laugh, "it''s a powerful one, meant for a much different battle. But fate, it seems, has twisted my hand. Now, you and all your clansmen will be scattered across the lower realms¡ªrandom, isolated, and so far apart that you''ll never be able to find each other again." Volk''s heart dropped. He strained even harder, his mind screaming to break free. He couldn''t allow her to do this, couldn''t let her separate them, not when they had just fought to the brink of survival together. "Your wives¡­" Urza''lin''s voice took on a sickeningly sweet tone, "they''ll be sent far, far away. You''ll never see them again. In the random lower realms I''ll send you to, you''ll be nothing more than a lost soul, wandering and searching. By the time you figure out what happened, your precious Elven witches will be nothing more than memories¡ªif you even live that long." S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Her laughter rang through the white void, cold and echoing, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. "And me? I will take the Elven witches with me, to another lower world, and there, I will bend them to my will. They will serve me as they should have from the beginning. And you? You strange Orcs? You''ll be left with nothing." The white light flickered, and the world began to twist again. Volk''s limbs ached as they finally responded to his will, but it was too late. Urza''lin''s voice was already fading, dissolving into the void. "Goodbye, Orc. You may have won the battle, but I''ve won the war¡­" ¡­ Suddenly, the white light burst away, and Volk''s eyes snapped open. He was lying on the cold, hard ground of the catacombs. The cavernous walls still surrounded him, but something was different. He blinked rapidly, his vision adjusting, trying to make sense of the scene before him. Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and glanced around. The air was thick with dust and the scent of magic went awry. Around him, the other Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan were stirring, slowly coming to their senses, their groans and murmurs filling the silence. But something was missing. The Elves¡ªtheir wives¡ªwere gone. Panic shot through Volk''s veins like fire. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting across the cavern. Only Orcs remained. The Dreadmaw Clan, Bloodfang Clan, and others, but not a single Elf in sight. Solluha''r, his wife, was gone. Every Elven witch had vanished. "What... what happened?" Grounad''s voice was the first to break the eerie quiet. His face was pale, his eyes wide with disbelief as he clutched his weapon. He looked around frantically, his expression mirroring Volk''s own panic. "Where are they? Where are the witches?" The other Orcs began to rise, confusion and fear gripping them as they realized what had transpired. Whispers filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. "They''re gone." "Where did they go?" "What kind of magic was that?" "What did that witch do?" Volk''s fists clenched at his sides as he stared at the empty space where Solluha''r had been. His heart pounded in his chest, as he tried to think but his head was still groggy. He had heard Urza''lin''s words in the void, her taunting threat still fresh in his memory. "They''ve been taken," Volk growled, his voice rough with rage. The Orcs turned to him, their faces a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. "Urza''lin... that Dark Elven Witch... she''s sent them to a lower world. We''re all separated now." The Orcs exchanged worried glances, their murmurs growing louder. "To a lower world? What does that even mean?" "Are they alive?" "How do we find them?" Grounad, still pale but now filled with a burning determination, stepped forward. "Volk," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "what do we do now? You''re the strongest among us... you fought her. What do we do?" Volk''s jaw tightened. His mind was racing, searching for answers that weren''t there. He could feel the weight of every Orc''s gaze on him, waiting, hoping for some kind of plan. But his thoughts were clouded with fury and fear for Solluha''r. "We find them," he said at last, his voice low and resolute. "We find our wives. We figure out where she sent them, and we bring them back." "But how?" another Orc called out, his voice thick with desperation. "How do we even begin? We don''t know where they are! This... this magic she used¡ªit''s beyond anything we''ve ever seen!" Volk didn''t respond immediately. He could feel the tension rising in the room, the despair starting to set in among the Orcs. He understood their fear. It was gnawing at him too, threatening to consume him. But he wouldn''t let it. He couldn''t. "Volk¡­" Grounad added, his voice steadier now. But he also didn''t know what to say. A murmur rippled through the group. As much as they wanted to believe in Volk''s words, the reality of their situation weighed heavily on them. Suddenly, in the midst of the murmurs, a soft DING echoed in Volk''s mind. He stiffened, his eyes narrowing as the sound reverberated in his head. It was the same sound he had heard before, back when the strange system had first made itself known to him. A notification. One that only he could hear. Experience tales at m v|l e''-NovelFire.net Volk blinked! Maybe another mission! Chapter 107: Cant get out Volk stared at the glowing notification in front of him, the words burning into his mind: | All the elves are safe in the Orzaroth Realm. | For a moment, he exhaled a sigh of relief, his tense muscles relaxing slightly. But then, an uneasy realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to race. "If they''re in the Orzaroth Realm¡­ and the system was really telling me that¡­" he muttered, feeling a sudden chill, "Does that mean... we''re not?" The enormity of the situation weighed down on him, his mind racing with questions. His hand tightened around the handle of his axe as his eyes scanned the dark, unfamiliar surroundings. Experience new tales on m v|l e''-NovelFire.net The caverns that once felt like a battleground now seemed like the maw of a beast that had swallowed them whole. Without warning, Volk turned toward the older generation of Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, his voice laced with confusion and desperation. "Are we really in a new realm? Just like that? How did we even get here?" The older Orcs exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight as if weighing whether to tell him the full truth. One of them, a scarred and battle-worn Orc named Grurgan, finally stepped forward, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Aye, young Orc. We are in a new realm. This is how it''s always been, lad." Volk''s brow furrowed. "What do you mean ''always been''?" Grurgan grunted, looking around at the younger Orcs who had gathered, curious and equally unsettled by their current predicament. He began speaking slowly, as though explaining to children. "This catacomb... it''s not just a shelter, nor just some lair where beasts come to fight. No, this catacomb is a conduit¡ªa portal to other realms. But not all catacombs are created equal. "You see, depending on the catacomb''s level, it determines where we''ll end up. Low-level catacombs, like the one we''re in now, send us to lower-level realms." Another elder Orc, an ancient figure named Morulk, chimed in, his voice raspy from age. "It''s true. Our ancestors once used catacombs to escape the Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches, traveling between realms like the wind. But that was long ago. The warlocks and witches began hunting us down, trying to control the catacombs for their own purposes." Volk blinked, trying to comprehend the gravity of what they were saying. "So... we''re stuck here?" Morulk''s sunken eyes gleamed in the dim light as he shook his head. "Not stuck. Trapped. Until we become strong enough or find another way out, we are bound to this catacomb." Volk''s mouth went dry. His mind reeled with the implications. "The Dark Elven Witch¡ªUrza''lin¡ªshe went with the elves... with my wife! She took all the elves with her! What does that mean?" A murmur rippled through the crowd of Orcs, the gravity of his words sinking in. Grurgan''s expression darkened as he stroked his chin. "If she went with the elves, then that means they''ve been sent to a random realm¡ªseparate from us. I don''t know what realm but it''s absolutely another realm, and we... we''ve been sent to another." Volk clenched his fists, his muscles tensing with a sudden, overwhelming desire to find them. "Then we need to leave. We need to find them and bring them back." But before he could continue, a ripple of laughter broke through the gathered crowd of Orcs. Gurhahahaah! Garhahahhaha! Grahahahaha! It started low, with a few chuckles, but soon grew into full-blown belly laughs. Orcs from all clans¡ªDreadmaw, Bloodfang, Ironhide, and others¡ªjoined in, their deep voices echoing off the walls of the cavern. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk turned toward them, his expression filled with frustration and confusion. "What''s so funny?" One of the Bloodfang Clan Orcs, a hulking brute with massive tusks, slapped his thigh, barely able to contain his amusement. "You think it''s that simple? Just ''find them''? Just walk out of here like it''s a stroll in the woods?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. Another Orc, this one from the Ironhide Clan, chimed in, his voice booming. "You''re dreaming, young Orc! It''s not that easy to travel between realms, especially for Orcs like us!" Volk glared at them, his rage boiling beneath the surface. "And what do you suggest we do? Stay here forever?" Before anyone could answer, an older Dreadmaw Clan Orc, his skin weathered and his eyes filled with a strange wisdom, stepped forward. This was Ghurn, one of the elders who had seen more battles than most Orcs could dream of. His voice was calm, yet carried the weight of authority. "Young Orc," Ghurn began, his gaze steady and unflinching, "you did well securing the crystal and saving us from that witch. You showed strength and wisdom beyond your years. But now, you must face reality." Volk''s jaw tightened. "And what reality is that?" Ghurn''s expression softened, almost sympathetic. "We are no longer the Orcs we once were. We''ve been changed, transformed by this catacomb and this realm. We''re now considered catacomb monsters." Volk''s eyes widened in disbelief. "catacomb monsters? What does that even mean?" Ghurn let out a deep sigh, looking around at the other Orcs. "It means that we are bound to this catacomb, just like any other creature born within it. We are part of the ecosystem now. Our only hope is to grow stronger, to kill enough of the aboriginals in this realm, and maybe, just maybe, we will be accepted by the realm the catacomb was sent to and we''ll find a way out." Volk''s hands trembled with barely contained rage. "So that''s it? We just fight and kill until we''re strong enough to leave?" The elder Orc smiled grimly. "That''s all. That''s the way of the catacomb. It''s a brutal world, but it''s the only way forward." The other Orcs, younger and older alike, began to laugh again, their deep, guttural voices filling the cavern. Some slapped their knees, others slapped each other on the back, all finding humor in the absurdity of their situation. One of the younger Orcs from the Ironhide Clan, his face still fresh with the fire of battle, grinned at Volk. "You think you''re special because you killed a few elves and a witch? We''ve all been fighting since we were whelps. This is just another realm, another battlefield. Get used to it." Volk''s eyes narrowed as he looked at the sea of grinning faces around him. Despite their words, he couldn''t shake the feeling that something deeper was at play. He knew their laughter was just a defense against the hopelessness that threatened to consume their minds. And yet, deep down, Volk knew he couldn''t give in to despair. He had to find a way to reach his wife and the others. The thought of Solluha''r trapped in some random realm, possibly in danger, gnawed at his very soul. He would not let this be the end. As the laughter died down, Volk stood taller, his eyes burning with desire to get out. "Laugh all you want," he said, his voice low and steady. "But I''m not giving up. I''m going to find them. I''m going to find my wife, and I''m going to bring her back." The cavern fell silent, the echoes of the Orcs'' laughter fading into the darkness. They all stared at Volk, some with amusement, others with curiosity. Ghurn chuckled softly, stepping forward and placing a hand on Volk''s shoulder. "Aye, lad. I''ve seen that look before. You''re not the first Orc to face impossible odds... but maybe, just maybe, you''ll be the one to break them," and then he would laugh out loud again, "hahahahaha!" Chapter 108: Mission The atmosphere in the dimly lit cavern was heavy with the tension of confusion and frustration. Volk''s mind was thruming towards all the possibilities he could think of as he processed the reality they were now trapped in. The notification that confirmed the safety of the elves brought him brief solace, but it quickly turned into a harrowing realization. If the elves were in another realm, that meant he and the other Orcs were stuck in this one. The unfamiliar surroundings only deepened his dread. Volk, still staring into the distance, clenched his fists and turned to the older Orcs. "Who do we need to kill to be accepted by this realm? Is it the monsters of this catacomb?" His voice was firm, though tinged with desperation. The other Orcs paused, surprised by his question, and for a moment, there was a brief silence. But then, almost in unison, the cavern erupted with laughter. "BWAHAHAHAHAH!" "BRAHAHHAHA!" "KRAHAHAHHAHA!!!" It was the kind of guttural, mocking laughter that grated against Volk''s patience. ''Why are they laughing so much? It''s normal for me to ask, after all; I am a young Orc. But why are they laughing? Are they trying to show that they are elders and superior?'' However, he chose not to dwell and focus on it, after all, these Orcs are hoodlums. Not worth being angry about now as he had more things to think of. Orcs from every clan¡ªDreadmaw, Bloodfang, Ironhide¡ªwere doubling over, clutching their sides, amused by his question as if he had just told the funniest joke in the world. "Hear that, lads?!" one of the Bloodfang Orcs guffawed, slapping his comrade on the back. "This young pup thinks we just need to go kill some monsters! Like it''s that easy!" "Does he think this is some kind of adventure?" another Orc bellowed through his laughter, his tusks gleaming as he grinned wide. "Kill a few monsters, and we''ll be home by supper?" They jeered at Volk, their voices echoing off the cold stone walls of the cavern. The sound was infuriating, their mocking tones digging into Volk''s pride. He stood rigid, his eyes narrowed, as they continued their teasing. "Does he think this is for real?" one of the Ironhide Orcs sneered, his voice thick with amusement. "Is this what the Dreadmaw Clan''s reduced to? Dreamers who think they can just kill their way out of anything?" The chorus of laughter swelled again, each Orc throwing in their jabs, each word grating on Volk''s ears. Read latest stories on m_v-l''e|-NovelFire.net He could feel the heat rising in his chest, making his blood boil with frustration. This wasn''t a game. His wife was somewhere in another realm, and here they were, laughing as if this was all some kind of cruel joke. Suddenly, the old Orc who had been beside Volk the whole time stepped forward. His leathery skin and the wisdom in his eyes seemed to silence the other Orcs, though his expression carried the same smug amusement. The elder shook his head slowly, as though Volk had missed something obvious. "Young Orc," the old one began, his voice gravelly and slow, "you don''t understand how things work here, do you?" Volk''s jaw clenched as the elder continued, "The monsters in this catacomb? They''re nothing but food for us, lad. They''re weak, pathetic creatures. We could kill them all day, and it wouldn''t make a difference." The elder paused, his eyes gleaming with something between pity and amusement. "If you really want to get out of here, we need something else." Volk raised an eyebrow, his frustration mounting. "What do you mean? What else is there?" The elder chuckled darkly, leaning in closer as if he were sharing a grand secret. "We need someone from outside. Someone from this realm that we are sent to. They need to come in here, be drawn into this catacomb, and become the victim. Only then, once we''ve killed enough of them, will the realm accept us. And let me tell you something, boy... that will take forever." A murmur rippled through the gathered Orcs, some nodding in grim agreement, others chuckling again at the prospect. The elder straightened, the smirk on his lips returning. "So you see, lad, all this talk about fighting your way out? It''s useless. We could wait here for a thousand years, or more, and only then... maybe... we''d get enough of them to leave." Volk''s eyes widened. His mind spun with the enormity of what the elder had just said. Wait? They were supposed to sit here, in this forsaken place, waiting for outsiders to stumble into their trap? His fists trembled with the desire to act, to fight, to do something¡ªanything¡ªother than sit around and wait. "So that''s it?" Volk muttered, his voice shaking with rage. "We just wait here? For who knows how long? Until someone¡ªsomeone¡ªwanders in? And then we kill them and hope it''s enough?" The elder nodded, his expression calm, even satisfied. "That''s it. And don''t worry, lad. The crystal will keep us alive. We''ve got food, water, everything we need. As long as we meet our basic needs, we''ll survive. It might take a long time, but we''ll live." Volk''s heart sank. The reality of their situation crashed over him like an avalanche of solid ice. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. If this was how catacombs worked, then they were truly trapped. They might be stuck here for eternity, waiting, biding their time, with no guarantee they would ever escape. The thought of being separated from Solluha''r, his wife, for an eternity was unbearable. The elder gave Volk a pat on the shoulder, his expression one of mock sympathy. "Come on, lad. Let''s go hunt. It''s all we can do for now." But just as Volk was about to slump in defeat, a sharp, familiar ding echoed in his ears. A notification appeared in front of him, its glowing text capturing his attention. Ding! | Mission: Challenge and defeat all the remaining Orc Clans to work under the Dreadmaw Clan. | Rewards: Getting out of the Dungeon. | Failure: The Host and the whole Dreadmaw Clan will revert back to green Orcs. | Volk''s eyes widened as he read the words, and for a moment, he stood frozen. His mind began to articulate every so he coukd absorb the implications of the mission. Challenge all the other Orc Clans? It seemed impossible, but the reward... the promise of freedom... it was right there, within reach. Wait¡­ Volk would look around. Their skins. Green? Slowly, a smile spread across Volk''s face. Not a smile of amusement, but one of sheer desire for beatdown. His grip on his axe tightened, and a fire burned and ignited in his chest. He turned to the elder, who was still chuckling softly to himself, oblivious to what Volk had just seen. Without a word, Volk pushed past him, his eyes scanning the crowd of Orcs, many of whom were still smirking or laughing. "What''s that grin on your face for, lad?" the elder asked, raising an eyebrow. Volk ignored him. He raised his axe high above his head, his voice booming through the cavern with newfound confidence. "What are you all waiting for?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Hunt for me and my Dreadmaw Clan. Now!" The laughter died instantly as the Orcs stared at him, bewildered. Some exchanged confused glances, but Volk didn''t care. He had his mission, and nothing¡ªnothing¡ªwas going to stop him now. "Yes," he whispered to himself, the word barely audible as his smile widened. "If we can''t get out, you all must know who would be under whom¡­" Chapter 109: Challenge The tension in the cavern was incredibly sharp and one move, all of them felt they would be pushed and crushed. The flickering light of the glowing crystals reflected off the stone walls, casting long shadows over the assembled Orcs. Volk stood at the forefront, his broad shoulders squared, eyes glinting with determination as he faced the other clans. The silence after his declaration lingered in the air like a storm waiting to break. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, like a dam breaking, the other Orc Clans erupted into anger and disbelief. "Work under the Dreadmaw Clan?" A gruff voice from the Bloodfang Clan snarled. "The weakest clan among us?" The Orc who spoke stepped forward, his broad chest heaving, fists clenched in fury. His tusks gleamed as he bared his teeth, clearly enraged at the notion. The Fireblood Clan leader, a hulking brute covered in scars, spat on the ground, his red eyes narrowing. "This runt from Dreadmaw thinks he can talk to us about being saved? Who does he think he is?" "The Dreadmaw Clan!" another voice echoed from the Thunderstrike Clan, derision dripping from every word. "You lot barely survived back there! And now you want to rule us?" The cavern seemed to vibrate with the sound of their angry growls, their voices blending into a cacophony of fury. Orcs of every clan¡ªthe Bloodfang, Ironhide, Thunderstrike, Stonefist, Shadowclaw, Fireblood, and Frostbite¡ªstood up, their faces twisted in disbelief and rage. They were warriors, chieftains, and veterans of countless battles. To them, this was an insult of the highest order. Volk stood firm, unfazed by their outbursts, though he could feel the heat of their anger radiating towards him. Suddenly, the elder Orc from his own clan, Dreadmaw, stepped forward and grabbed his arm, his face filled with incredulity. "Young Orc!" the elder hissed, his grip tight. "What are you doing, boy? Do you understand what you''re saying? This isn''t a game. You''ll get us all killed!" Volk shook the elder off with a sharp jerk of his arm, his eyes blazing with determination. He wasn''t going to back down, not now. He walked forward, towards the circle of enraged chieftains from the other clans, his steps slow and deliberate. "Yes!" Volk''s voice echoed through the cavern, silencing the muttering and grumbling. "I''m challenging all of you. You should be grateful that it was me who saved you back there. If it weren''t for me, the Dark Elven Witch would have killed every last one of us. But I''m not here to brag. I''m here to claim what''s rightfully mine! I''ll become your Warchief!!" The laughter that followed was harsh and grating. Grahahahahha! Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Orcs from the other clans laughed, their voices bouncing off the cavern walls. Bwagrahahhahaha! The Bloodfang Orcs howled with amusement, some clutching their sides, their deep, guttural laughter filling the space. The Ironhide Clan leaned on their weapons, shaking their heads in disbelief. "Absolute Authority?" one of the Ironhide Orcs spat, his voice laced with sarcasm. "As Warchief of all the clans? You''re delusional, boy." "A Warchief?" a Frostbite Orc echoed with a sneer. "The Dreadmaw Clan has always been weak. You barely survived this catacomb, and now you want to rule over all of us? You''re out of your mind!" Even the Thunderstrike Clan, known for their stoicism, couldn''t hold back their amusement. One of their warriors, his face lined with the scars of many battles, chuckled darkly. "This is ridiculous. Is this the best the Dreadmaw Clan has to offer? Some fool who thinks a single victory makes him Warchief?" Their voices blended together, a symphony of mockery and disdain. The Orcs of the Fireblood Clan were the loudest, their leader wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Where''s the Dreadmaw Chieftain?" one of them shouted. "Who gave this young Orc the audacity to speak like this? Is he courting death?" Volk frowned, his mind flashing back to the events of the past where he was challenged by the chieftain of his own Dreadmaw Clan for accepting Grounad as his follower. The Dreadmaw Chieftain that had been leading the whole Dreadmaw Clan, but now... he was nowhere to be found. Where was the Chieftain? Suddenly, one of the younger Orcs from the Dreadmaw Clan stepped forward, his face grim. "The Chieftain..." he began hesitantly, "he perished. He died protecting us all against the Dark Elven Witch earlier." A hush fell over the cavern as the news settled in. Volk felt a surge of realization, and then he laughed¡ªa deep, guttural laugh that made the other Orcs pause. "That''s right," Volk said, his voice carrying across the cavern. "I am the Chieftain now." The room erupted again, but this time with even more disbelief. One of the Bloodfang Orcs stepped forward, his thick arms crossed over his chest. His eyes flicked over Volk dismissively before landing on the massive figure of Grounad, who had remained silent at the back, observing. "Grounad!" the Bloodfang Orc barked, his voice sharp with contempt. "Is this the leader you''ve chosen? The one you left us for? The Dreadmaw Clan? This is what you traded for the Bloodfang Clan?" The Orc''s words hung in the air, filled with venom. He stepped closer, his face twisted with fury. "You were the most promising young warrior of the Bloodfang Clan! You had everything ahead of you! Power, strength, respect! And you threw it all away... for this?" Find adventures at m_v l|e-NovelFire.net He sneered at Volk as if the very sight of him disgusted him. "You could have led us into glory, Grounad. But instead, you follow this fool. This... runt, who thinks he can stand among us." The Bloodfang Orcs behind him jeered, echoing his sentiments. "You made a mistake, Grounad! You could''ve been great!" one shouted. Another growled, "You were born to lead us, not to follow some whelp from the weakest clan!" Grounad, who had remained silent throughout the confrontation, finally stepped forward. His expression was calm, but there was an unmistakable fire in his eyes. "Maybe you''re the ones who are scared," he said, his voice steady. "You mock us now, but deep down, you know the truth. You know that Volk is the reason you''re all still standing here. Maybe that''s why you''re so loud. Maybe you''re just hiding your fear." His words were like a slap to their faces, and for a moment, there was a stunned silence. The Orcs of the Bloodfang Clan scowled, but they didn''t respond immediately. Meanwhile, Volk''s patience had run out. His hands tightened around the haft of his axe, his teeth bared in a furious snarl. He had had enough of the mockery, enough of the disbelief. Rage boiled in his chest, rising up like a tidal wave. Without warning, he let out a deafening roar, his voice shaking the very ground beneath them. "KORNUUM DRHAKAAAAAAARR!!!" The cavern shook with the force of his shout. Dust and small stones tumbled from the ceiling as the Orcs around him flinched in surprise. The echo of his war cry seemed to reverberate through the very bones of the mountain, a sound so primal and filled with raw power that it silenced even the most defiant Orcs. For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. Volk''s chest heaved as he glared at the assembled clans, his eyes burning with intensity. "You think this is a joke? You think I''m weak?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don''t care what you think. I''m the Chieftain of the Dreadmaw Clan now. And whether you like it or not, you will bow to me as your new Warchief!" Chapter 110: Disappointment The atmosphere in the cavern grew itchy and heavy, as though the very air was waiting for something to snap. All eyes were on Volk, standing defiant before the assembled Orc clans. His bold declaration was in the waiting, reverberating through the silence after his mighty roar. The chieftains of the Bloodfang Clan, Ironhide Clan, Thunderstrike Clan, Stonefist Clan, Shadowclaw Clan, Fireblood Clan, and Frostbite Clan stood in disbelief, with their muscles taut with squirming tension. Each Orc seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for someone to make the first move. Then, with a growl that could shake mountains, the Bloodfang chieftain stepped forward. "GurraaaaaAaAaAAAHHH!!" His scarred, hulking frame moved with purpose, his blood-red eyes locked onto Volk. The battle-worn marks on his body told the story of a veteran¡ªone who had seen countless wars and survived them all. His lip curled in a snarl as his massive boots thudded against the stone floor, echoing through the cavern. "You dare speak like this to me, whelp?" the Bloodfang chieftain growled, his voice low and menacing. His words dripped with contempt. "You''re nothing but a pup, still wet behind the ears. You think you can challenge the Bloodfang Clan? I''ll deal with you myself, runt." Volk raised an eyebrow, his face impassive. He didn''t even flinch. Instead, he took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the chieftain. "Only one?" he asked, his voice calm, though it carried a weight of arrogance. "Not all of you?" That simple question sent a ripple of shock through the ranks of the other clans. Experience exclusive tales on m v|l e''-NovelFire.net The gathered Orcs exchanged incredulous looks before bursting into uproarious laughter. The sound of their laughter made a deafening sound, filling the cavern with the harsh, guttural sounds of Orcs mocking Volk''s apparent foolishness. "Hah! This runt wants to take on all of us!" roared an Orc from the Ironhide Clan, his broad chest shaking with mirth. "Does he even know who he''s talking to?" "Arrogant fool!" barked a Stonefist warrior, pounding his hammer against the ground for emphasis. "He won''t even last a minute against Bloodfang''s chieftain!" "He''s lost his mind!" chuckled a Thunderstrike Orc, his laughter edged with cruelty. "This pup doesn''t know the difference between a real warrior and a child''s plaything." Even the chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan couldn''t help but laugh, a dark, rumbling sound that sent vibrations through the stone. His eyes gleamed with malicious amusement as he watched Volk, clearly enjoying the idea of putting the younger Orc in his place. "Bold words, Dreadmaw," the Bloodfang chieftain growled, stepping closer. His massive fists flexed, ready to crush his challenger. "But I''ll make sure you eat them. I''ll break you in front of all these clans. And when I''m done, no one will remember your name. You''ll be nothing more than dust beneath my boots." Volk simply smirked, his calm demeanor never faltering. "I''m sure," he said, his voice slow and deliberate, "that the chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan won''t even leave a mark." The Bloodfang chieftain''s eyes flared with anger, his body tensing like a coiled spring. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on his weapon. "You arrogant little¡ª" Before he could finish, the chieftain lunged at Volk, his powerful legs propelling him forward like a bull charging into battle. His massive war axe sliced through the air with a loud whump! the blade gleaming under the cavern''s light. But Volk was faster. He sidestepped the attack with ease as if he was someone who had been in countless battles himself. The Bloodfang chieftain''s axe bit into the stone floor with a clang! sending sparks flying, but Volk was already behind him, untouched and unimpressed. "Tsk, tsk," Volk said, shaking his head. "That''s it? That''s the best you''ve got? I expected more from a so-called chieftain." The Bloodfang chieftain snarled in frustration, whirling around to strike again. He swung his axe with raw fury, each blow strong enough to shatter bone. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Whoosh! Thud! Each strike missed as Volk effortlessly dodged and sidestepped, his movements so precise they seemed almost mocking. "Pathetic," Volk muttered as he evaded another swing, the blade missing him by mere inches. "You call yourself a warrior? I''ve seen pups fight with more skill." The other Orcs watched in stunned silence, their expressions ranging from confusion to disbelief. At first, they expected Volk to be crushed, the battle over in a heartbeat. The Bloodfang chieftain was a veteran, after all. Volk, in their eyes, was just an overconfident pup who didn''t know his place. "What... what''s happening?" an Ironhide Orc muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he watched Volk effortlessly dodge another blow. "No way," growled a Fireblood warrior, his hand tightening on his weapon. "The chieftain''s toying with him. He''ll finish it soon." But as time passed and the Bloodfang chieftain''s attacks grew more frantic, more desperate, the mocking laughter that had filled the cavern began to fade. It was replaced by a tense, uneasy silence. The realization slowly dawned on them all¡ªVolk wasn''t struggling. He wasn''t even trying. "He''s... just defending?" a Thunderstrike warrior whispered, eyes narrowing in confusion. Volk sidestepped another wild swing, his expression one of sheer boredom. "Weak," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I''m disappointed. I thought you''d at least give me a challenge." The Bloodfang chieftain growled, his chest heaving as sweat began to drip down his brow. He swung again, putting all his strength into the blow, but Volk ducked under the strike with almost casual ease. "This is what passes for strength in the Bloodfang Clan?" Volk asked, his tone mocking. "I''ve seen grunts fight better." The other Orcs shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between Volk and their chieftain. This wasn''t how it was supposed to go. Their chieftain was a seasoned warrior, a fighter who had led them through countless victories. And yet, here he was, being toyed with by a younger Orc, one who barely looked like he was breaking a sweat. "H-how is this possible?" a Stonefist Orc muttered, his voice filled with disbelief. "The chieftain should''ve crushed him by now!" "Is... is Volk really that strong?" a Shadowclaw warrior whispered, fear creeping into his voice. The Bloodfang chieftain was breathing heavily now, his attacks growing more sluggish with each swing. His once confident expression was now twisted in frustration and disbelief. He couldn''t land a single hit. It was as if Volk wasn''t even taking him seriously. "Is that all?" Volk asked, his voice calm and unbothered as he dodged another blow. "I expected a lot more from someone with your reputation. But I am disappointed by your performance." The Bloodfang chieftain''s face twisted into a snarl. Graaaahh!! He swung again, this time aiming low to catch Volk off guard. Wham! But Volk leaped back, his feet barely touching the ground as he evaded with a dancer''s grace. "Too slow," Volk said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Is this really the best the Bloodfang Clan has to offer?" The other Orcs exchanged uneasy glances. What was happening before them didn''t make sense. The Bloodfang chieftain was one of the strongest fighters they knew, but here he was, being utterly humiliated by Volk. "Impossible... this can''t be real," an Ironhide Orc muttered, his hands trembling around his weapon. "He... he''s playing with him," a Frostbite warrior said in horror, his eyes wide as he watched Volk effortlessly dodge yet another swing. "This can''t be happening." Volk''s expression remained calm, even as the Bloodfang chieftain began to stumble. His attacks were wild now, more desperate than ever. His once proud stance was slumping, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You''re done," Volk said coldly, watching as the chieftain''s movements became more erratic. With one final, desperate swing, the Bloodfang chieftain lunged forward, his axe raised high. However, Volk sidestepped the attack once more, and with a swift movement, he kicked the chieftain''s legs out from under him. The Bloodfang chieftain crashed to the ground with a thud! his axe clattering beside him. For a moment, the cavern was silent. The other Orcs stared in disbelief as the once-mighty chieftain knelt on the stone floor, gasping for breath, his body shaking with exhaustion. Volk stood over him, his expression cold and unreadable. "I told you," he said softly, his voice carrying through the cavern. "You wouldn''t even leave a mark." And with that, the Bloodfang chieftain, utterly defeated, fell to his knees, the weight of his failure heavy on his shoulders. The silence that followed made their ears hear a long deafening ring! Chapter 111: All at once The chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan, despite his exhaustion, was not done yet. His pride, his rage, everything inside him refused to allow him to bow down to Volk, especially after being humiliated in front of the other Orc clans. With a snarl, he lunged forward from his kneeling position, his muscles straining as he hurled his axe at Volk. The weapon spun through the air with a deadly hiss, aimed straight for Volk''s chest. Whoosh! But Volk was faster. He sidestepped the axe with ease, his body moving as though he had expected the attack all along. The axe sailed past him, clattering loudly against the stone wall behind him with a sharp clang. The chieftain, furious and now weaponless, charged at Volk again, this time with more desperation in his eyes. His massive hands were outstretched, fingers curled into claws. Continue your adventure at m|v-l''e -NovelFire.net He aimed for Volk''s face, attempting to gouge his eyes out, his teeth bared in an attempt to bite at his neck. Volk''s face remained calm, even as the chieftain lunged at him with every bit of strength he had left. The other Orcs watched in stunned silence, some leaning forward, expecting this underhanded attack to catch Volk off guard. Thud! Before the chieftain could land a blow, Volk brought his leg up and slammed his boot into the chieftain''s thigh with brutal force, sending him crashing back to his knees. Kabang! The Bloodfang chieftain let out a pained growl as his legs buckled beneath him. "Uurrrkkk!!" With a scream, his massive body trembled with exhaustion, and his breath immediately came in heavy, ragged gasps. "I thought you were a proud veteran warrior," Volk said, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the tension in the cavern like a blade. He stared down at the chieftain, his expression cold, yet tinged with disappointment. "How come you would resort to attacks like that? Eye-gouging? Biting? Is this the honor of the Bloodfang Clan?" The chieftain glared up at him, hatred burning in his eyes, but he couldn''t move. His body was too worn out, his muscles screaming in protest. "Get up," Volk commanded, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest. His tone was calm but held an unyielding authority that echoed through the cavern. "Get up and fight me like a warrior." The Bloodfang chieftain tried to push himself up, his arms shaking from the effort, but his body refused to obey him. His pride, however, wouldn''t let him stay down. "Uggrrrghghhh!" He grunted, his hands trembling as he tried to rise. But no matter how hard he struggled, his strength had abandoned him. The Orcs around them murmured in disbelief, exchanging shocked glances. "Is this really happening?" muttered one of the Thunderstrike warriors, his voice tinged with surprise. "The chieftain... can''t even stand up." "I''ve never seen him like this before," an Ironhide Orc whispered, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Volk... he''s making him look weak." Even the older generation of the Dreadmaw Clan, who had initially looked on with anger and doubt, were now silent, their eyes locked on Volk. At first, they had been enraged by Volk''s audacity, by his claim to be their chieftain without earning their respect. But now, as they watched him effortlessly dominate the Bloodfang chieftain, their perspective had begun to shift. "He''s strong..." one of the older Dreadmaw warriors muttered under his breath. "Stronger than any of us thought." "But how?" asked another Dreadmaw elder, his face lined with age and wisdom. "Where did this power come from?" The younger generation of the Dreadmaw Clan stood back, their faces more composed, knowing full well why Volk was so powerful. They remained silent, keeping their knowledge to themselves as they watched their new chieftain in action. Meanwhile, Volk''s eyes never left the Bloodfang chieftain, who was still struggling to rise. Seeing his opponent''s futile efforts, Volk''s expression softened for a brief moment, but then his face hardened again. "Get up!" Volk barked, his voice echoing through the cavern like a thunderclap. He stepped forward and kicked the Bloodfang chieftain''s axe across the stone floor, the weapon scraping loudly as it slid to a stop right in front of the chieftain. The chieftain, flabbergasted, looked down at the weapon, blinking in surprise. "Take it," Volk ordered, his voice colder now. "Get up and take your weapon. Fight me properly." The Bloodfang chieftain hesitated, his eyes darting from the axe to Volk. His pride warred with his exhaustion, but his body refused to cooperate. He reached for the axe, his hand shaking as he gripped the handle, but he couldn''t lift it. His strength had been sapped completely. "Get up!" Volk shouted again, his patience thinning. The command sent a shiver through the assembled Orcs. They could see the fury building in Volk''s eyes, the unrelenting demand for battle in his posture. But the chieftain couldn''t move. He was beaten. Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the tension. "My former chieftain," Grounad stepped forward, his voice dripping with contempt. He moved with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing just behind Volk. His eyes gleamed with something close to satisfaction as he gazed down at the kneeling chieftain. "How does it feel, kneeling in front of Volk? I thought you said I made a mistake leaving the Bloodfang Clan, transferring to the Dreadmaw Clan." Grounad''s words struck like a hammer, and the chieftain flinched as though he had been physically struck. "And now look at you." Grounad''s lips curled into a cruel smile. "Kneeling before the very Orc you dismissed. The very one you underestimated." The chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan growled in frustration, his hands gripping the axe so tightly his knuckles turned white. But he didn''t have the strength to stand. He couldn''t rise. Volk, growing impatient, took another step forward, his eyes blazing to each Orc Clans. "What about the rest of you?" His voice was like a storm, sweeping over the assembled Orcs with undeniable authority. He pointed to the other chieftains¡ªthose from the Ironhide Clan, Thunderstrike Clan, Stonefist Clan, Shadowclaw Clan, Fireblood Clan, and Frostbite Clan. "Send me all your chieftains at once! Let''s make this fair." The gathered Orcs looked at one another, disbelief etched across their faces. At first, they had mocked Volk, angered by his arrogance, by his audacity to claim the title of chieftain without their approval. But now, after seeing what he had done to the Bloodfang chieftain, they hesitated. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. There was a new respect in their eyes, one mingled with fear. "Is he serious?" muttered a Thunderstrike warrior, his voice barely a whisper. "All of our chieftains... at once?" "He''s mad," an Ironhide warrior said, shaking his head. "But... did you see what he did? He took down the Bloodfang chieftain without even breaking a sweat." One of the Shadowclaw Orcs, his eyes narrowed in thought, grunted in agreement. "Maybe he can do it. Maybe he''s that strong." The chieftains themselves exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of anger and uncertainty. None of them wanted to admit it, but Volk had proven himself to be far more dangerous than they had anticipated. Finally, after a long, tense silence, the chieftain of the Ironhide Clan stepped forward, his face grim. "If you want all of us, Dreadmaw Clan, then you''ll have us." His voice was steady, though there was an underlying tension in his words. He nodded to the other chieftains, signaling them to step forward as well. One by one, the other chieftains stepped forward, their eyes locked on Volk. They were no longer mocking him. Now, they were preparing for war. Volk''s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. This was exactly what he wanted. "Good," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Let''s see if all of you together can fare better than your friend here." And with that, the stage was set. The chieftains of the most powerful Orc clans stepped forward, ready to face Volk as one. The tension in the cavern reached its peak, and all the Orcs knew¡ªthis was going to be a battle they would never forget. Chapter 112: Hand to Hand combat The cavern was a vast, shadowy expanse, lit only by the faint glimmer of the runes that adorned the walls. The atmosphere of the catacomb was suffocating now, every Orc present holding their breath as they waited for what was about to unfold. The sound of heavy boots echoed through the cave as the chieftains of all the Orc clans stepped forward, their eyes locked on Volk. Volk stood in the center, his broad chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes glinting with cold amusement. He began to stretch, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he extended his arms and rolled his shoulders. Kichick! Kichick! There was an eerie calm about him, as though the battle that was about to begin was nothing more than a casual exercise. "Finally," Volk said, his voice breaking the silence, "I can have a good workout." The words, spoken with such confidence, sent a ripple through the crowd. The assembled Orcs of each clan¡ªBloodfang, Ironhide, Thunderstrike, Stonefist, Shadowclaw, Fireblood, and Frostbite¡ªflinched. If he had said that earlier, they would have laughed at him, mocked him for his arrogance. But now, after witnessing his effortless domination of the Bloodfang chieftain, they took him seriously. So no one laughed this time. The chieftains, however, weren''t so easily cowed. They exchanged glances, each of them nodded in a seemingly silent agreement. One by one, they began to strip off their armor, the heavy plates falling to the ground with resounding clangs that echoed through the cavern. The Orc warriors of each clan watched in confusion as their leaders discarded their protection, but the chieftains had made their decision. "We''ll fight hand-to-hand," one of the chieftains growled, his voice thick with resolve. "You don''t need that fancy armor slowing us down." They had seen the speed with which Volk moved¡ªunhindered, unburdened by heavy armor. The Bloodfang chieftain had worn full plate, and it had only slowed him down, making him an easy target for Volk''s quick, precise movements. The other chieftains wanted no such disadvantage. They wanted to face Volk on equal footing, at least in that regard. Volk chuckled softly, watching the armor hit the ground. The sound of metal crashing against the stone floor was almost comical to him. He admired their spirit, but he couldn''t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. These chieftains, even without their armor, were still clinging to the idea that they could defeat him. "You really think it''ll make a difference?" Volk asked, his voice carrying across the cavern as he flexed his hands into fists. "Very well. Let''s see what you''ve got." The chieftains, now stripped down to their bare muscle, spread out around Volk, circling him like predators. Their massive green bodies, covered in scars from countless battles, were tense with anticipation. They were out for blood, their eyes burning with the fierce determination of warriors who refused to back down. Thud! Thud! Thud! The ground shook slightly beneath their feet as they moved in unison, their boots pounding against the stone floor. "Here we go!" one of the chieftains bellowed, his voice a thunderous roar that reverberated through the cavern. The others echoed his cry, their voices blending together in a cacophony of war chants and battle cries. Then, in one violent motion, they surged forward as one, their massive fists swinging toward Volk with brutal speed. Volk''s eyes gleamed with anticipation as he crouched slightly, his body coiled like a spring. "Come," he said, his voice calm, almost inviting. The first blow came from his left¡ªan Ironhide chieftain''s fist the size of a boulder, aimed directly at Volk''s head. Whoosh! Volk ducked, the massive fist passing over his head by mere inches. Without missing a beat, he sidestepped another chieftain''s charge, his footwork smooth and precise, as if he was dancing through their attacks. Thwack! Volk''s palm shot out, slamming into the chest of the Thunderstrike chieftain, sending him stumbling back with a grunt. He spun around just in time to block a punch aimed at his ribs from the Fireblood chieftain, his forearm absorbing the blow with a resounding crack. The force of the impact would have shattered the bones of any normal Orc, but Volk stood firm, barely flinching. The chieftains roared in frustration, attacking him from all sides. Their fists flew through the air, their bodies lunging toward him with reckless abandon. But Volk was always one step ahead. He moved like a shadow, slipping between their strikes with ease, his body twisting and turning in ways that defied the brute force of their attacks. Find your next read at m_v l|e-NovelFire.net Smack! Volk''s elbow connected with the jaw of the Frostbite chieftain, sending him crashing to the ground with a loud thud. The Stonefist chieftain came in next, his fists swinging like hammers, but Volk deflected each blow with effortless grace, pushing the larger Orc back with a well-placed shove to the chest. For every punch thrown, Volk had a counter. For every charge, he had an escape. He was untouchable, his movements destructive and precise, as though he could predict their attacks before they even happened. It was as if he was toying with them, letting them exhaust themselves while he remained untouched. Crack! Volk''s knee slammed into the side of the Ironhide chieftain''s ribs, sending him sprawling to the floor. Before the others could react, Volk spun on his heel, and his fist crashed into the Thunderstrike chieftain''s gut, knocking the wind out of him with a single blow. "You''re slow," Volk said, dodging another punch from the Fireblood chieftain. His voice was calm, almost bored. "Is this the best you''ve got?" The other Orcs in the cavern watched in stunned silence. At first, they had expected Volk to go down quickly. After all, he was up against the chieftains of the most powerful Orc clans, each of them a veteran warrior with years of battle experience. But as time passed, their disbelief turned into something else¡ªwonder, and then horror. "Is this really happening?" whispered one of the Shadowclaw warriors, his eyes wide with shock. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "He''s... he''s not even breaking a sweat," another Orc muttered, his voice trembling with disbelief. "Look at him," an older Dreadmaw warrior said, shaking his head in awe. "He''s toying with them like what he did to the Bloodfang Clan chieftain." The chieftains, for all their strength and fury, were growing desperate. Their bodies were drenched in sweat, their muscles straining as they threw punch after punch, but Volk remained untouchable. He moved like a ghost, his body a blur of motion as he evaded their strikes, his feet barely touching the ground. Bam! Volk''s fist connected with the jaw of the Shadowclaw chieftain, sending him crashing into the Stonefist chieftain, both of them collapsing in a heap on the floor. "You''re all disappointing me," Volk said, his voice dripping with disdain as he threw the Fireblood chieftain across the room with a casual flick of his wrist. "I expected more from the leaders of the great Orc clans." The chieftains, panting and exhausted, began to falter. Their attacks grew sloppy, their movements slower. They were tiring, while Volk seemed as fresh as ever, his energy untouched. Suddenly, without warning, the chieftains stepped back, all of them retreating at once, their chests heaving as they gasped for air. They looked at each other, their faces a mix of frustration and confusion. Why had they stepped back? What were they waiting for? Volk straightened, watching them with narrowed eyes. "What''s the matter?" he asked, his voice mocking. "Tired already?" But the chieftains didn''t answer. They stood there, their fists clenched, their eyes darting toward one another as though waiting for something, or someone, to make the next move. Chapter 113: Shamanic Abilities As the chieftains of the Orc clans stood in a semicircle around Volk, Volk could sense and see with eyes that their chests were heaving deep. Their sweat glistened on their thick, battle-scarred green skinned bodies, making a strange tension. Each of them looked at the others, as if silently agreeing that brute strength alone wasn''t going to be enough. Find adventures on m_v l|-NovelFire.net "Can we use... shamanism?" The Bloodfang chieftain, still recovering from his earlier defeat, broke the silence, his voice hoarse and thick with exhaustion. Volk''s brow furrowed slightly. "Shamanism?" He blinked, confused for a moment. Magic? He had almost forgotten that the Orc clans practiced what they called shamanism¡ªtheir way of conjuring powerful magic through rituals and ancient runes. Volk''s lips curled into a smirk. "Use whatever you like. Do everything you can against me." The chieftains, though breathing heavily, grinned wickedly, Volk noticed their eyes gleamed as if it was renewed the hope that shamanism would turn the tide. Suddenly, Volk felt the ground trembled as they spread their legs, bracing themselves. Magic circles began to glow in their hands¡ªeach one different, reflecting the ancient power of their respective clans. The Bloodfang chieftain was the first to act. His magic circle pulsed with a violent red hue, and his body seemed to radiate heat. "Feel the blood of the hunt, Volk!" he roared, his voice a guttural growl. His skin darkened to a deep crimson, and his muscles swelled, veins popping out as he charged forward with unnatural speed, his fist glowing with the fire of his rage. Whoosh! Volk sidestepped the attack, narrowly avoiding the Bloodfang''s fiery punch. He could feel the intense heat pass by his face, the air crackling from the power. BAM! Before Volk could fully recover from the dodge, another chieftain¡ªthis time from the Frostbite Clan¡ªlaunched an icy projectile at him. "Cold as death itself, Volk! Feel the chill!" the Frostbite chieftain shouted, his eyes glowing a fierce blue as his magic circle shimmered like frost on the wind. The icy shard slammed into Volk''s chest with a loud crack. He stumbled back, feeling the freezing cold bite into his skin, but when he looked down, he saw only a faint scratch on his chest. The Frostbite chieftain''s eyes widened in shock. "Impossible," he whispered, frozen in place. "That should''ve pierced through him like an ice spike..." Volk, surprised himself, muttered under his breath. "Is my body really this strong?" The chieftains weren''t done yet. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Thunderstrike chieftain was next. His magic circle sparked with electric fury, and arcs of lightning danced across his body. "Swift as the storm!" he yelled, thrusting his palm forward. CRACK! A bolt of lightning shot from his hand, zigzagging toward Volk with blinding speed. Instinctively, Volk twisted out of the way, his movements fluid. But even his speed wasn''t enough to fully evade the attack. The lightning bolt grazed his side, sending a shock of pain through his body. His muscles tensed involuntarily as the electricity coursed through him. Volk gritted his teeth. The pain was sharp, but fleeting. He flexed his arm, shaking off the residual tingling. "That''s it?" he taunted, though in truth, the attack had stung more than he wanted to admit. "Enough games!" bellowed the Ironhide chieftain, his voice deep and booming. His magic circle was dark, pulsating with the power of the earth itself. His skin hardened into a metallic sheen, reflecting the dim light of the cavern. He slammed his fists together with a deafening CLANG, and the ground beneath Volk''s feet trembled. "Iron will crush you!" BOOM! A massive shockwave erupted from the Ironhide chieftain''s fists, sending chunks of rock flying in all directions. Volk braced himself, crossing his arms in front of his face. KABAAM! The force of the shockwave slammed into him, knocking him backward. His feet skidded across the stone floor, but he stayed upright, his arms trembling slightly from the impact. "Grrr... That was a good one," Volk muttered, his muscles burning from the strain. He could feel bruises forming under his skin. Still, he remained standing, his gaze unwavering. "Feel the earth break!" shouted the Stonefist chieftain, stepping forward. His magic circle, a deep brown, glowed fiercely as his fists enlarged to twice their normal size. He slammed them into the ground, creating fissures that snaked toward Volk. CRACK! The stone beneath Volk''s feet exploded upward, jagged shards of rock launching toward him. Volk leaped into the air, narrowly avoiding the devastating blow. But just as he landed, another chieftain attacked. WHOOSH! From the shadows, the Shadowclaw chieftain emerged, his magic circle shimmering with a dark, ghostly light. "You cannot dodge what you cannot see, Dreadmaw chief!" he hissed. His hands moved in swift, fluid motions, and a wave of shadowy tendrils shot out from his fingers, wrapping around Volk''s legs and arms. Volk grunted, struggling to free himself as the shadows tightened around him like chains. But with a surge of power, he ripped through them, shattering the shadowy bonds with sheer force. The Shadowclaw chieftain''s eyes widened in disbelief, his body momentarily frozen in place. "Not bad," Volk said, flexing his fingers, "but not good enough." "Burn him to ash!" roared the Fireblood chieftain, his magic circle flaring to life with a fiery red glow. Flames erupted from his hands, swirling into a massive fireball that roared toward Volk. BOOM! The fireball exploded on impact, engulfing Volk in a raging inferno. For a moment, all that could be seen was the wall of fire, crackling and spitting embers into the air. The Orcs watching from the sidelines gasped, their eyes wide with shock. "Did... did they get him?" one of them muttered, squinting through the smoke. But as the flames died down, Volk stood there¡ªhis skin blackened in places, but still standing. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His body was covered in bruises, and the heat from the fire still lingered on his skin, but he remained on his feet. Volk glanced down at his hands, feeling the faint sting of the burns. "So, this is what shamanism can do," he murmured, a hint of surprise in his voice. He looked up at the chieftains, and they could see his expression finally hardened. "You''ve got power, I''ll give you that. But not enough." The chieftains exchanged nervous glances. They had thrown everything they had at him¡ªfire, ice, lightning, earth, shadows¡ªand yet Volk still stood. His body, though battered and bruised, had withstood their combined onslaught. "You... you can''t be serious," the Bloodfang chieftain muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. His once confident demeanor was now tinged with fear. The Thunderstrike chieftain clenched his fists, his eyes wide with disbelief. "How... how is this possible?" Volk took a step forward, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet. His muscles ached, and his body was covered in cuts and bruises, but his spirit remained unbroken. He cracked his neck, the sound echoing through the cavern. "You wanted to use shamanism? Fine. But it wasn''t enough." The Orcs around the cavern began to murmur amongst themselves. What they had just witnessed was something they had never seen before¡ªa lone warrior standing against the combined might of the strongest chieftains and surviving. Volk grinned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He spat onto the ground, his eyes still gleaming with that same cold, confident light. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice steady, though his body was clearly showing signs of strain. The chieftains, exhausted and bruised, took a step back. Their magic had failed. Their combined power had not brought him down. Volk, though breathing heavily, was still standing tall. "Now... It''s my turn" Chapter 114: Orc Formation Suddenly, without warning, Volk''s knee buckled beneath him, and he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. The sound echoed ominously through the chamber, bouncing off the stone walls like a warning. For a moment, he was confused. His body, though battered and bruised, had endured the chieftains'' magical onslaught. But now, his legs trembled, refusing to support him. The gathered Orcs of each clan stiffened. Their eyes darted between each other, uncertain. The chieftains, still heaving with labored breaths, exchanged glances. Slowly, a cruel smirk spread across the Bloodfang chieftain''s face. He straightened up, despite his own exhaustion, and nodded to the others. "Let''s do it. The Orc Formation," the Bloodfang chieftain muttered darkly, his voice low and full of deadly intent. Volk''s eyes narrowed. He planted his hands firmly on the ground, pushing himself back to his feet, but his muscles screamed in protest. "Orc Formation?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion. The name sounded unfamiliar, even to him. Before he could demand an answer, an old, grizzled Orc from the Dreadmaw Clan stumbled forward, his face twisted with panic. His hands shook as he gestured wildly at Volk, his voice rising to a terrified shout. Read the latest on m_v-l''e|-NovelFire.net "No! Volk, you don''t understand!" the old Orc cried, his voice breaking from urgency. His eyes darted toward the chieftains, who were now gathering in a loose circle, their hands already glowing with power. "The Orc Formation¡­ it''s not something you can fight against! It''s a spell¡ªa forbidden magic created long ago by the Orc Clans to face foes that no single warrior could defeat. It''s the only way we could bring down enemies like Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches." Volk, still on one knee, clenched his jaw. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn''t respond as they should. His eyes flickered between the old Orc and the chieftains, who now moved in precise, synchronized steps. "They''re combining their strength, Volk!" the old Orc shouted, his voice trembling. "When the Orc Formation is complete, they''ll summon a spell so powerful it can strike both body and spirit! You don''t understand¡ªno enemy has ever survived it!" The words hit Volk like a hammer from the sky. Strike both body and spirit? He began to knit the knot. He could withstand the physical attacks, that much he knew. But if they were targeting his spirit, even his Grum-gar Ogre form wouldn''t protect him. The weight of the old Orc''s warning settled heavily on his chest. "Run, Volk!" the old Orc urged, his voice cracking with desperation. "You have to get out of here! No one can survive the Orc Formation! Not even you! Not even in your Ogre form!" The urgency in the old Orc''s voice clawed at Volk''s resolve. He had never heard this old man speak in such a frantic tone. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his breathing shallow as adrenaline coursed through his veins. His instincts screamed at him to run, to retreat before it was too late. But before he could move, before he could even attempt to escape, the Ironhide chieftain, his body still gleaming with his hardened iron skin, thrust his hands into the air. His magic circle flared to life, and chains of glowing energy erupted from the ground, wrapping around Volk''s wrists and ankles with a loud crack. "Bind him!" the Ironhide chieftain shouted, his voice filled with venomous glee. The chains tightened with a force that made Volk grunt in pain. He strained against them, his muscles bulging as he tried to break free, but the more he struggled, the tighter the chains became. Every second that passed was like a vice clamping down harder and harder. Volk''s breathing became more ragged as he fought against the binding magic. His eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and anger. How could these chieftains, who just moments ago had been on the edge of defeat, suddenly trap him so easily? His body trembled as he pulled against the chains, but the magic was too strong. The old Orc from the Dreadmaw Clan shouted again, his voice a frantic screech now. "Volk! You can''t break free! No one ever has! Run if you can, break the chains!" But Volk was trapped. The magic held him fast, and all around him, the chieftains moved in unison, their magic circles glowing brighter and brighter with each passing second. As the energy around them intensified, the air in the chamber grew thick with the pulsating hum of raw power. The Frostbite chieftain, his hands glowing with a blue icy aura, raised his arms high above his head. "Let the cold embrace your spirit!" he howled, and a sphere of freezing energy began to form above him. Next to him, the Thunderstrike chieftain smirked, electricity crackling between his fingertips. "I''ll light the path to your doom!" he roared, sending tendrils of lightning to join the swirling mass of magic. The Fireblood chieftain, fire blazing in his eyes, clenched his fists as flames erupted from his hands. "Burn in the fire of our fury, Volk!" he bellowed, his voice full of malice as a swirling orb of flame joined the growing magic ball. One by one, the chieftains of each clan poured their remaining mana into the magic orb at the center of their formation. It grew larger, brighter, more chaotic with every passing moment. Volk could feel the heat from it, the sheer power radiating outward like an unstoppable storm. Despite the chains binding him, Volk continued to struggle. His muscles screamed in agony as he tried to tear himself free, but the magic held him fast. The weight of the energy in the air pressed down on him like a mountain. The old Orc from Dreadmaw watched in horror, his face pale as he shouted one final time, "Volk, get out of there! You can''t take this! You''ll die¡ªbody and spirit!" But Volk, despite the panic gripping his mind, forced himself to focus. He gritted his teeth, pushing down the rising fear in his chest. His eyes locked on the massive orb of magic energy, now crackling with power as it hovered above the chieftains. He couldn''t run. He couldn''t break free. But something deep inside him refused to give up. His breathing slowed, and a strange calm settled over him. If this was how it was going to be, then he''d face it head-on. The chieftains roared in unison as they hurled the magic energy ball toward Volk. It tore through the air like a meteor, leaving a trail of fire, ice, and lightning in its wake. WHOOSH! Time seemed to slow as the massive ball of magic hurtled toward him. Every instinct screamed at him to brace for the impact, to prepare for the pain, the destruction. But instead of fear, something unexpected happened. Volk smiled. As the blazing magic energy roared closer, its heat scorching his skin, Volk''s lips curled into a calm, confident grin. He could feel the power of the spell all over his face and chest, the sheer force of it nearly overwhelming. But at that moment, he wasn''t afraid. Instead of being afraid, he would suddenly show a confident smile. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 115: Look behind you BOOM! The ground quaked, sending tremors through the earth. The sound of the explosion was deafening¡ªa violent eruption that roared through the air like a beast unleashed. A blast wave tore across the field, flattening the tall grass and sending a cloud of dust and debris high into the cave ceiling. It was as if the very cave itself had ripped open for a few moments, vomiting forth fire, smoke, and destruction. The energy of the blast crackled with arcs of lightning, sizzling through the air as flames and icy shards mixed, creating a chaotic storm that consumed everything in its path. A shockwave pulsed outward, hammering against the chieftains and the watching clans. The sheer force of the explosion knocked a few of the weaker Orcs off their feet, while others staggered back, shielding their eyes from the blinding light. Crackling! Whoosh! The sound of magic dissolving into the atmosphere hissed ominously, leaving behind the scent of scorched earth and burning metal. The ground where Volk had stood was now a crater, its edges jagged and blackened, as if clawed by some great beast. The air shimmered with heat, and the area was obscured by thick plumes of smoke, rising in twisting spirals. For a long moment, everything was still. The chieftains stood frozen in place. The Bloodfang leader, his breath ragged, watched the smoke with wide, unblinking eyes. His massive chest heaved with each breath, his body drenched in sweat and mana exhaustion. The others¡ªIronhide, Thunderstrike, Stonefist, and the rest¡ªwere similarly paralyzed. Their eyes flickered between the smoldering crater and each other, as if unsure of what they had just done. The gathered clans, too, had fallen into a stunned silence. The warriors of the Dreadmaw Clan stood rigid, their mouths slightly open, shock etched into their expressions. Their young representative¡ªVolk, their rising star¡ªhad taken the brunt of the blast. There was no sign of him, no movement from the crater. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as though the earth itself waited to see if Volk had survived. But nothing moved. A heavy, oppressive stillness blanketed the battlefield. It was a silence so thick it felt suffocating, wrapping itself around the throat of every Orc present. The only sound was the distant crackling of dissipating magic and the occasional shifting of rocks falling from the edges of the crater. The air itself seemed frozen in time, the atmosphere heavy with an eerie sense of finality. A few of the younger Orcs shifted uncomfortably, their eyes wide with disbelief, but none dared to speak. Then, from the stillness, a sound broke the quiet. "Haha¡­" It was a soft, breathy chuckle at first. The voice was weak, strained from exertion, but unmistakable. The Bloodfang chieftain, still kneeling on the ground, wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled shakily. He took another deep breath, his chest trembling, then laughed again, but he was louder this time. "Haha¡­ Hahahaha¡­" His laughter grew, building like a storm gathering strength. Soon, the sound was no longer a mere chuckle but a full-bodied roar of amusement. "HAHAHAHAHAHA!" The other chieftains turned to look at him, confusion etched across their faces. But then, as if a spell had been cast over them, they, too, began to laugh. "Haha¡­ Hahahahaha!" the Ironhide chieftain joined in, clutching his sides as he doubled over. "Hahahaha! HAHAHAHA!" One by one, the others followed suit. Thunderstrike threw his head back, his laughter sharp and piercing, almost hysterical. The Stonefist chieftain''s deep, guttural laugh echoed through the valley, shaking his massive frame with each heaving breath. "Hahahaha! HAHAHAHA!" The laughter spread like wildfire, uncontrollable and infectious. The other Orcs of each clan, still caught between shock and disbelief, slowly began to grin, their grim faces cracking into sneers of amusement. "Warchief?!" The Bloodfang chieftain spat the word, his voice dripping with mockery. He pounded the ground with his fist, tears of laughter streaming down his face. "This fool really thought he could challenge us all and call himself Warchief? HAHAHAHAHA!" "He''s gone now!" the Ironhide chieftain bellowed, wiping his mouth as he shook with laughter. "So much for the mighty Volk! He couldn''t even survive a single spell, and he called himself Warchief? What arrogance! What a joke!" The Thunderstrike chieftain, barely able to stand from laughing, pointed toward the crater. "Where''s your Warchief now, Dreadmaw? Huh? HAHAHAHA! He bit off more than he could chew and now¡­ he''s nothing but ash!" They jeered, their voices rising with gleeful malice. "Look at them! Silent as corpses!" the Stonefist chieftain sneered, jabbing a finger toward the Dreadmaw Clan. "Your young warrior challenged us and now he''s dead! How shameful!" "He may have been strong, but he was a fool!" The Frostbite chieftain''s cold voice rang out, his laughter quieter but no less cruel. "Thinking he could take us all on like that? What madness possessed him? HAHA! Look at your Warchief now! He''s nothing!" The older members of the Dreadmaw Clan hung their heads in shame, their faces flushed with embarrassment. Their representative had indeed been powerful, but they hadn''t expected such recklessness. The weight of the chieftains'' scorn pressed down on them, heavy and unbearable. Each mocking word was like a hammer to their pride, shattering their confidence. But amid the jeers and ridicule, one group remained eerily calm¡ªthe younger generation of the Dreadmaw Clan. They stood in quiet, unwavering silence. There was no shame in their eyes, no fear or uncertainty. Instead, they seemed to be watching the scene with an almost knowing expression, as if they were waiting for something. Their confidence was unsettling in the face of such mockery. The Thunderstrike chieftain noticed this and sneered, pointing at them with a mocking grin. "And what about you, young Dreadmaw?" he shouted. "Why are you so silent? Do you still believe in your Warchief, even after all this? Are you blind to reality? Your leader is gone!" The young Dreadmaw Orcs exchanged glances, unperturbed by the taunts. Their silence stretched on, they were unbroken and unaffected by the jeering of the Orc Clans. But then, one of them stepped forward. He was tall and lean, his eyes sharp with clarity and purpose. His face was calm, composed¡ªalmost serene. The laughter of the chieftains faltered as they watched him approach. Read new chapters at m_v-l''e|-NovelFire.net The young Orc stopped a few paces away, his expression unwavering as he turned to face the chieftains. He spoke quietly at first, his voice cutting through the lingering laughter like a blade through the air. "Don''t celebrate too early." The chieftains blinked, confusion flashing across their faces. The young Orc''s voice was steady, firm, as if he knew something they didn''t. The laughter began to die down, curiosity and uncertainty replacing the previous mocking tones. The young Orc gestured toward the crater, his voice steady but cold. "Look behind you." The chieftains froze. Their mocking sneers faded, replaced by wide-eyed confusion and, for the first time since the battle had begun, a flicker of doubt. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Slowly, as if gripped by some primal instinct, they turned to look over their shoulders. The smoke was still thick, swirling and twisting in the air. But as it slowly cleared, a shadowy figure began to emerge from the darkness, standing tall amidst the rubble. Soon, the dust settled, revealing a familiar silhouette¡ªone that should not have been there. Volk stood, bruised and battered but very much alive. His lips curled into a faint smile. The chieftains'' eyes widened in disbelief, their bodies stiffening as they realized their mistake. Volk had survived. Chapter 116: Warchief The air was still thick with violent tension as Volk stood amidst the clearing smoke, his bruised and battered body a testament to the battle. Yet, there was an undeniable confidence in his posture, his calm expression almost mocking the chieftains who had believed him defeated just moments ago. He slowly lifted his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist as if testing his strength. Clack! Clack! Clack! The silence of disbelief was broken by the first murmur among the chieftains. "H-How¡­?" The Bloodfang chieftain''s voice trembled, the disbelief clear in his bloodshot eyes. "How did he¡ª?" Another chieftain, from the Stonefist Clan, growled in frustration. His massive fists clenched at his sides, veins bulging in his neck. "Impossible! He should have been crushed!" The Frostbite chieftain, his face pale and ashen, glared at Volk. "No one survives the Orc Formation. No one!" His voice was rising, a mix of fear and confusion. "How did he escape?" They all stared at Volk, their minds racing, trying to comprehend what had just happened. This was supposed to be the end. The Orc Formation was the ultimate spell, an ancient technique designed to overpower even the strongest of foes. It had toppled warlocks and witches, shattered the defenses of armies, and yet¡­ here stood Volk, seemingly untouched. The Thunderstrike chieftain spat on the ground in frustration. "What sorcery is this? What trick did you use to survive?" Volk, his eyes gleaming with calm amusement, slowly raised his head to meet their stares. He cracked his neck, the bones popping audibly, before speaking in a low, measured tone. "Did you all forget the battle I had with Grounad before we entered the catacombs?" The chieftains exchanged confused glances. The Bloodfang chieftain frowned, scratching his head. "What are you talking about? That fight was nothing compared to¡ª" But Volk interrupted, his voice smooth but sharp. "Do you remember what happened when Tomorrowhawk Bull charged at me? I vanished. Right in front of him. The bull you sent to trample me was redirected because I wasn''t where I appeared to be." The Bloodfang chieftain blinked, his face slackening with realization. "The¡­ the bull..." From the Ironhide chieftain''s side, a deep, guttural gasp escaped. His eyes widened, and his mouth quivered. "Y-You¡­ you¡­?" Volk''s lips curled into a knowing smile. He nodded, his eyes locking onto the Ironhide chieftain''s, making the older warrior visibly flinch. "That''s right. I sidestepped. I''ve been able to disappear from one place and reappear instantly somewhere else for quite some time now. I only let you believe your attacks hit me." The Ironhide chieftain stumbled back a step, his face drained of color. "You¡­ tricked us¡­" The realization was dawning on the rest of the chieftains like a slow-moving storm. They had all believed their Orc Formation had hit its mark, that Volk had taken the full brunt of the attack. But it had all been an elaborate ruse. "He let us think we won," the Fireblood chieftain muttered under his breath, his fiery eyes narrowing with frustration. "He lured us into using the Formation¡­" "And we walked right into it," growled the Thunderstrike chieftain. His lips curled into a snarl, but the rage in his eyes couldn''t hide the fear that was creeping in. Volk took a slow, deliberate step forward. His presence was overwhelming, commanding. "I wanted you to use it," he said, his voice cold but calm. "I wanted to see if the great Orc chieftains could actually challenge me. But you''re all fools." He turned his gaze to the Ironhide chieftain, his smile widening. "Especially you." The Ironhide chieftain''s knees buckled, and he slumped to the ground, his body trembling. His iron skin, once a symbol of his clan''s invincibility, now seemed like a brittle shell. He lowered his head in defeat, the words barely escaping his throat. "I... I was wrong." His voice cracked, filled with regret and shame. "I, Grulg Ironclad, chieftain of the Ironhide Clan, acknowledge you, Volk, as our true Warchief." There was a stunned silence as the other chieftains looked at the Ironhide leader. The man who had been a symbol of strength was now bowing to Volk. One by one, the realization that they had no other choice washed over them. The Bloodfang chieftain clenched his teeth, but after a long pause, he too lowered his head. "I am Kaarg Bloodfang, chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan. From this day, Volk is my Warchief." The Fireblood chieftain sighed, his voice bitter. "I am Raal Fireblood. Volk¡­ is my Warchief." The chieftains, one by one, admitted their defeat, their voices heavy with resignation. The Frostbite, Thunderstrike, Stonefist¡ªeach chieftain announced their loyalty to Volk, some with bitterness, others with reluctant admiration. As the final words of submission echoed in the catacombs, Volk remained unmoved. His eyes scanned the defeated chieftains, each one broken, bruised, and mentally shattered. Yet, despite their acknowledgments, his expression remained cold. He didn''t care for their words. They were just that¡ªwords. And words weren''t enough to satisfy him. Volk''s hands clenched into fists once more, the sound of his knuckles cracking like a whip in the silence. Clack! Clack! Clack! The chieftains flinched at the noise, their bodies tense with uncertainty. "We¡­ we''ve acknowledged you!" the Thunderstrike chieftain stammered, his voice laced with panic. "What more do you want?" Volk took another step forward, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "What more do I want? Oh, you misunderstand. You see¡­ I''m not done yet." The chieftains exchanged fearful glances. The Ironhide chieftain, still kneeling on the ground, looked up at Volk with pleading eyes. "But¡­ but we''ve given you our loyalty! You are our Warchief now! What are you planning?" Volk''s gaze hardened. "I''m not satisfied," he said flatly, his voice low and dangerous. "I received a lot of injuries because of you." A chill ran down the spines of the chieftains. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The blood drained from their faces as the realization of what Volk intended settled in. Their confidence crumbled, replaced by sheer, unadulterated terror. "You¡­ you can''t be serious¡­" the Stonefist chieftain whispered, his voice barely audible. "Oh, I''m serious," Volk replied, his voice dripping with cold malice. "Very serious." The Fireblood chieftain took a step back, his hands trembling as the fear became visible in his eyes. "We¡­ we''ve already surrendered! You don''t need to do this!" Volk''s smile returned, but it was anything but friendly. "But I¡­" he paused at first, then continued, "WANT to." And with that, the cave was immediately filled with the sickening sound of bones cracking and the helpless screams of the chieftains. The once-proud leaders of the Orc clans, who had mocked and jeered at Volk, now writhed in agony as he delivered his judgment. Explore new worlds at m,v l-NovelFire.net Their screams echoed through the catacomb, their voices blending together into a haunting chorus of pain and fear. The stone walls reverberated with their cries, the sound carrying far and wide. Outside, the Orcs from every clan stood frozen in horror, their faces pale as the realization of what was happening inside the chamber sank in. For a moment, it felt as if the catacombs themselves had come alive, feeding off the agony and despair that filled the air. The younger generation of the Dreadmaw Clan, who had stood in silent confidence throughout, did not flinch. They watched, their eyes cold and calculating, knowing that this was the moment Volk had truly solidified his place as Warchief. The screams continued, long and unrelenting, until finally, they were silenced. Chapter 117: We will get out Volk sat on a jagged stone, his back resting against the rough wall of the catacomb, cradling a small, crude bottle of healing potion in his hand. The dim glow of the subterranean chamber illuminated his broad, muscular frame, highlighting the deep bruises and cuts that adorned his body. With a slight move, he uncorked the bottle and poured the thick liquid into his mouth. Its bitter taste made him wince, but he welcomed the sensation as the soothing warmth of the potion coursed through his veins, knitting his wounds together. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His eyes flicked upward toward the system screen, visible only to him. Discover stories at m,v l''-NovelFire.net Ding! | Mission: Challenge and defeat all the remaining Orc Clans to work under the Dreadmaw Clan. | Status: Completed. | Rewards: Getting out of the Dungeon. | Time: Please wait for three hours. | A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Volk''s lips. "One hour, huh?" he muttered to himself. The thought of finally leaving the dungeon filled him with a strange mix of relief and anticipation. He stretched his sore muscles, feeling the faint twinge of pain as his body recovered from the brutal battle with the chieftains. Suddenly, a familiar presence loomed over him, and he glanced up to see Grounad approaching, his hulking form casting a long shadow across the chamber. The old Orc, with his battle-scarred face and mischievous grin, chuckled as he stepped closer. "I never expected ya to challenge all the chieftains so fast," Grounad said with a hearty laugh, his tusks glinting in the dim light. "Thought you''d take yer time, maybe get a few more victories under yer belt." Volk leaned his head back against the stone wall, his expression calm. "Thanks to you," he replied, his voice steady. He remembered the conversation they had earlier, when he was on a mission to retrieve the crystal and put his blood in it. Back then, Volk had asked Grounad what he knew about each clan, learning the nuances and strengths of each group. But as they spoke, the conversation had turned to something more intriguing. Grounad had revealed, with a grin, how one becomes a Warchief. "Challenge all the chieftains at once," he''d said, laughing as if it were a joke, never expecting Volk to take it seriously. "I didn''t forget," Volk said now, his gaze locking with Grounad''s. "You told me how to be a Warchief. I knew it was only a matter of time." Grounad barked another laugh, his rough voice echoing through the chamber. "Yeah, well, I didn''t think you''d do it this fast. Damn, Volk, you''re full of surprises!" Volk shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "Circumstances forced my hand." As they sat there, surrounded by the eerie quiet of the catacombs, Grounad''s expression softened. He sat beside Volk, his massive frame settling onto the cold stone. "You know, this reminds me of my wife," he began, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. Volk raised an eyebrow but said nothing, allowing the older Orc to continue. "Mishina¡­" Grounad began, his eyes distant, as if he were gazing through time itself. "She wasn''t like the other Orc women. Nah, she had somethin'' about her¡ªan Elven elegance, if ya could believe it. "I met her when I was younger, long before the other clans came together to this forest. We Orcs¡­ we had a peace with the Elves back then. Our worlds crossed more often. She was part of an Elven delegation sent to the Bloodfangs for a peace treaty." Grounad paused, his fingers tracing the scars on his arm, each one a reminder of battles fought and survived. "I saw her from across the courtyard. All pale skin and golden hair¡­ somethin'' so foreign to us Orcs, but she had this fire in her eyes. Stubborn, proud, and damn, she could hold her own in a fight. "We clashed once, durin'' a demonstration match. The others were just playin'' around, but Mishina¡­ she gave me a real challenge. I''ve never respected someone so much." He smiled, his sharp tusks showing as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I knew right then I wanted her. And somehow, against all odds, she wanted me too." Volk listened in silence, his eyes watching Grounad''s face as the warrior''s tough exterior softened. "We had a few years together. They were the best years of my life, Volk. She taught me things I never thought I''d care about¡ªhow to appreciate quiet moments, how to see the world beyond just battle and blood. I would''ve done anything for her, anything to keep her safe." Grounad''s voice trembled slightly. "But then¡­ the migration. The separation of the Orcs from our Elven wives. They took her from me. Said it wasn''t natural, said it wasn''t right." Volk''s eyes narrowed slightly. He could sense the pain behind Grounad''s gruff voice, the loss of something precious. It was a feeling Volk, despite his own hardened exterior, could understand. "If I knew it was gonna end like this," Grounad continued, his voice breaking, "with the clans divided and us separated from our Elven wives, I would''ve treasured every moment with her more. I''d have never let a single day go to waste." For a long moment, there was silence between them, the weight of Grounad''s story hanging in the air like a dense fog. Finally, Volk''s lips twitched into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. "They''ll be back soon," Volk said, his voice steady, full of quiet confidence. Grounad''s eyes widened. "What?" he stammered, his voice shaking with disbelief. "What do ya mean, ''they''ll be back''?" Volk stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over Grounad. "Don''t ask me how. I''m not sure yet," Volk said, his voice calm and measured. "But I have a way." Grounad stared at him, mouth agape, the weight of Volk''s words sinking in. There was a glimmer of hope in his old, battle-worn eyes. Volk rarely spoke without purpose, and even in the short time Grounad had been with him, he had learned to trust the young Warchief''s words. Before Grounad could ask anything more, Volk suddenly stretched his massive arms above his head and took a deep breath, the tension in his muscles releasing. Then, without warning, Volk''s voice boomed through the catacombs, shaking the very stone walls. "HOOOOOOOOORRRDDDDEEEE!!" The sound reverberated like thunder, jolting every Orc in the chamber from their rest. Heads snapped in his direction, eyes wide and alert as they turned toward their new Warchief. Volk grinned, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "I WANT YOU ALL TO HUNT THE CATACOMBS'' CREATURES AND FILL YOUR BELLIES!" The Orcs blinked, caught off guard by the sudden command. But they knew better than to question their leader. Murmurs spread quickly through the crowd as they began to move, preparing for the hunt. Volk''s grin widened, with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He could see the fire igniting in his warriors, their bloodlust reawakening as they prepared for battle once more. "And make it quick!" Volk shouted, his voice full of laughter. "BECAUSE IN THREE HOURS, WE WILL GET OUT OF THIS WRETCHED PLACE!" The Orcs were stunned, after a few seconds they all erupted in cheers, one could see their spirits lifting as the promise of freedom finally seemed within reach. Grounad stood beside Volk, watching with a mixture of awe and disbelief. He had never seen such a commanding presence, such effortless leadership. As the Orcs scattered into the catacombs, Volk turned to Grounad, his eyes gleaming with quiet determination. "Get ready," Volk said, his voice low. "Everything''s about to change. I don''t know what but it''s better to be prepared all the time." Chapter 118: Feast As the hour passed, the catacomb echoed with the clattering and shuffling of the Orc clans moving about. Volk had given the command for every clan, including the Dreadmaw, to hunt. Only a handful of the Orcs remained behind¡ªthose skilled in preparing and cooking the meat for their eventual feast. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and sweat as the clans scattered into the labyrinthine depths, searching for creatures that roamed in the darkness. The preparation area buzzed with activity. Fires crackled, spits were assembled, and the few Orcs left to tend the fires sharpened their knives and prepared the space for the grand meal. Volk, leaning casually against the rough stone wall of the catacomb, suddenly felt a soft pulse from the system. His brow furrowed as a notification screen appeared before his eyes. | Ding! | Please plant this to a place the Host desires to open the dimensional crack. | He tilted his head, considering the message. The screen blinked out of existence, and a suspended light appeared before him, hovering just inches from his face. Without hesitation, Volk reached out, grasping the light in his hand. It was warm, pulsing with faint energy that hummed softly against his palm. He glanced around the chamber, spotting a small, jagged gap in the stone wall to his right. With purposeful steps, Volk walked toward it, the suspended light still cradled in his hand. As he approached the wall, he crouched, observing the tiny fissure closely. With a steady hand, he pressed the light into the gap. Nothing happened. Volk stood there for a moment, staring at the crack in the wall. His eyes narrowed, one could see there was a flicker of impatience running through his head. He was about to turn away when he remembered the system''s instructions. He had two more hours to wait. With a grunt of frustration, Volk rose to his full height, turning on his heel to rejoin the preparations. The light would do its work in time. For now, there was food to prepare, and a horde to feed. He made his way back to the main chamber where the cooks were busy skinning the beasts from earlier hunts. The sound of knives slicing through flesh filled the air, accompanied by the sizzling of meat roasting over open flames. Clang! Clang! Clang! Volk''s stomach growled faintly, the scent of cooking food making his mouth water. But before he could say a word, the first group of hunters returned from the depths of the catacomb, dragging the lifeless bodies of massive, grotesque creatures behind them. One by one, the Orcs began to pile the carcasses in front of Volk. A monstrous collection of mutated beasts, twisted by the radioactive energy of the catacombs, lay before him. The creatures'' skins shimmered with an unnatural glow, their twisted forms bristling with jagged limbs and contorted muscles. Several of the Orcs began to mutter to each other, their voices low but audible. "Why are we puttin'' all this in front of the Warchief?" one Orc grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Maybe it''s some sort of ritual," another whispered back, his eyes darting toward Volk. "Maybe he''s gonna bless the meat or somethin''." The first Orc frowned, unimpressed but found it funny. "Bless the meat? Since when do we need blessings to eat?" A third Orc, standing slightly apart from the others, leaned in, his voice hushed as if he was sharing some great secret. "I heard the Warchief plans to reduce the hazard. Make it tastier, you know? Get rid of the bad energy from these things." The others exchanged looks of intrigue, their suspicions only growing. Before anyone could speculate further, Volk stepped forward, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over the pile of monstrous corpses. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The murmurs ceased instantly, and all eyes turned to him. He stood silently for a moment, his eyes scanning the pile of twisted beasts. Then, without warning, Volk''s body tensed, and a faint hum filled the air. His hands clenched into fists, and a surge of invisible energy radiated from his body, absorbing over the carcasses like a water drain. "ZEEENNNG!" A low hum reverberated through the chamber, and the radioactive energy within the creatures began to pulse and shimmer. The Orcs watched in stunned silence as the eerie glow around the corpses faded, sucked into Volk''s form. The twisted, unnatural energy was siphoned from the dead beasts, absorbed into Volk''s body as if it were nothing more than air. Within moments, the corpses of the creatures lay still, their radioactive energy completely drained. Volk stood over them, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. The Orcs erupted into cheers, their voices echoing off the stone walls. They hadn''t seen anything like it before, and the excitement was palpable. The beasts were now ready for the feast, safe from their former taint. Read exclusive chapters at m|v-l''-NovelFire.net "Let the feast begin!" Volk bellowed, his voice booming across the chamber. The Orcs roared in response, their excitement boiling over as they quickly set to work preparing the meat for the grand meal. Soon, the chamber was filled with the rich, savory aroma of roasting flesh. Fires crackle as enormous haunches of meat were skewered and turned over open flames. Fat dripped and sizzled into the fire, sending plumes of smoke rising toward the stone ceiling. The sounds of laughter and merriment filled the air as the Orcs sat in groups, tearing into the cooked meat with ravenous hunger. Even the chieftains, still nursing their bruises from their earlier fight with Volk, joined in the celebration. They sat on thick logs, laughing heartily and sharing stories of past battles as they gnawed on chunks of meat. Despite the injuries they had sustained, their spirits were high, and the camaraderie among the clans was palpable. Around the fire, the Orcs passed around large mugs filled with some kind of potent drink, the liquid sloshing over the sides as they clinked their mugs together in toasts. "Hahahaha! I thought I''d never taste proper meat again!" one of the chieftains roared, his voice thick with amusement. "Aye, and to think this was all thanks to our new Warchief!" another chieftain added, raising his mug high. "Never thought I''d be celebratin'' like this after the beatin'' he gave us!" another chimed in, his face twisted into a toothy grin. For two full hours, the feast continued. The Orcs ate and drank until their bellies were full, their laughter and cheers echoing throughout the catacomb. Even the youngest Orcs, who had been silent earlier, joined in the celebration, reveling in the unity of the clans under Volk''s leadership. But amidst the revelry, Volk remained calm, his eyes sharp, watching over the gathered clans. He didn''t eat much¡ªjust enough to keep his strength up. His mind was elsewhere, turning over the events that had led them here, and what was yet to come. Suddenly, in the middle of the laughter and roaring firelight, Volk''s smile faded. His muscles tensed as he sensed something¡ªsomething off. His head snapped toward the far end of the chamber, where the crack in the wall lay. The noise around him seemed to fade into the background as his senses sharpened. There was something¡­ a presence. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he stood, his knuckles cracking as he flexed his hands. He stepped away from the fire, moving toward the source of the disturbance. The atmosphere in the catacomb shifted as the Orcs around him fell silent, sensing the change in their young Warchief''s demeanor. The feast came to an abrupt halt. All eyes turned to Volk as he walked. Something was coming. He stopped, standing at the edge of the chamber, his eyes locked on the crack in the wall. The air around him grew colder, and a faint rumble echoed through the stone, as if the very catacomb itself was awakening. Something was about to happen. Chapter 119: Orzaroth Elves Far away, in the shimmering, mystical realm of Orzaroth, beneath the dense canopy of its ancient forest, an otherworldly ceremony was taking place. The towering trees swayed gently, their leaves whispering in a language older than time, while the air crackled with an electric energy that seemed to pulse from the very earth itself. The elves of this realm were gathered in reverence, forming an immaculate circle around a massive, glowing tree¡ªthe Tree of Life. The tree''s colossal roots dug deep into the soil, pulsing with an inner light that gave life to the entire forest. Its branches reached toward the heavens, their tips seemingly brushing the very stars, while its leaves glimmered with an ethereal glow. The elves, adorned in flowing robes of green and gold, stood silent, their sharp, angular faces turned toward the tree in anticipation. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their leader, Prince Fernon, stood at the center, his presence commanding and regal. Prince Fernon was the embodiment of elven beauty and power. His tall, lean frame was draped in intricately woven silks that shimmered in the soft glow of the tree. His silver hair fell in waves down his back, framing his chiseled features and sharp, sapphire eyes. He was the chosen protector of the elves, the one destined to lead them to their next evolution¡ªthe heavenly elves. But today, his purpose was more personal. Today, he would choose his wife from the bearded fruit of the Tree of Life. A hush fell over the crowd as Fernon raised his hand, his voice low but resonant. "Brothers, sisters of Orzaroth, today marks the beginning of our ascension. The Tree of Life has borne its fruit, and from it, we shall rise above the limitations of this world. Today, I will choose the one who will stand beside me as we guide our people into the future." The elves nodded solemnly, one could see their eyes were bright with ambition. They had long prepared for this day. For centuries, they had guarded the Tree of Life, waiting for it to bear its sacred fruit. And now, that time has come. They would finally become the dominant race of the Orzaroth Realm, free to rid the world of beastmen, humans, and especially the dark elves, their sworn enemies. Nothing would stand in their way. Find more chapters on m_v l|e-NovelFire.net Not after today. Around the base of the great tree, saplings began to emerge. Each one was like a cocoon, its exterior a soft, silken shell that shimmered with a pale, golden light. Inside each sapling was an elf¡ªan adult, fully formed, but asleep. These elves were not born in the traditional sense. They were created by the Tree of Life, formed from its essence to be the purest of their kind. They were perfect, flawless beings, untouched by the imperfections of the world. One of these would be Fernon''s bride. A murmur rippled through the gathered elves as the saplings appeared in greater numbers, their soft glow illuminating the forest. The air was thick with tension and excitement. This was more than a marriage. This was destiny unfolding before them. The elves believed that Prince Fernon''s union with one of these beings would bring them the strength and unity they needed to conquer the realm. Chants began to fill the air, soft at first, but growing louder as the elves lifted their voices in unison. Their words flowed in the ancient elven tongue, a prayer to the Tree of Life, asking for its guidance in this sacred moment. The forest around them seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their chant, the very trees swaying in time with their voices. Prince Fernon stepped forward, his eyes scanning the row of saplings. Each one held a potential bride, each one was perfect, yet only one could stand at his side. He moved gracefully between them, his sharp gaze lingering on each cocoon as if waiting for a sign. And then, the Tree of Life responded. A low, resonant hum filled the air, vibrating through the ground and up into the saplings. The tree''s roots glowed brighter, their light intensifying as the saplings began to shift and pulse. From the depths of the tree, a soft, melodic voice echoed in Fernon''s mind, guiding him. He stopped before one particular sapling, his hand hovering over its soft surface. The elves held their breath as they watched him, their eyes wide with anticipation. Fernon''s fingers brushed the surface of the cocoon. Instantly, the soft shell began to shimmer and shift. The other saplings remained still, but this one responded to his touch, as if it knew it had been chosen. The elven prince''s heart quickened. He could feel it¡ªthe connection. This was the one. As the crowd watched in silence, the outer shell of the cocoon began to peel away, its soft layers dissolving into the air like mist. Slowly, the figure within began to emerge, her delicate form bathed in the light of the Tree of Life. She was breathtaking. Her long, silvery green hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, her skin as smooth and pale as moonlight. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene, as though she were still caught in a peaceful slumber. Her robes, woven from the very essence of the tree, shimmered like liquid gold, flowing over her body in perfect harmony with her every curve. She was, in every sense, the epitome of elven beauty. Prince Fernon stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch her face. As his fingers brushed her skin, her eyes slowly fluttered open. And that was when Fernon froze. Those eyes. They were not the soft, pale blue of an elf. No, they were a deeper hue, a color he had never seen before. They were sharp, dangerous¡ªfull of life, but not the life he expected. The gathered elves whispered amongst themselves, unaware of Fernon''s sudden unease. They did not yet see what he saw. To them, this was still the chosen bride, the one who would elevate their race. But Fernon''s heart raced as his gaze lingered on her face. And then he saw it¡ªa flicker of recognition in her eyes. A fire. Something primal and fierce. Something wild and destructive. Just what kind of elf is this? Solluha''r. That was her name, though Fernon did not know it. He felt incredibly attracted. She looks like she was not just an elf created by the Tree of Life. She could feel that was something far more. She was someone from another realm. Someone tied to another life. Another world. Without knowing why, Fernon''s hand pulled away, a cold dread settling into his chest. His lips parted to speak, but the words died on his tongue. There was something in those eyes¡ªa memory, a connection to something¡­ someone else. He is sure of it. The elves still celebrated behind him, oblivious to the truth. They saw only the beauty and perfection of their new queen-to-be. But Fernon saw the shadow of another life in those eyes. A life he knew nothing about. A life that had nothing to do with Orzaroth or their ascension. As the last pieces of the cocoon dissolved into the air, revealing her fully, Fernon felt a shiver run down his spine. She was perfect, yes. But she was not theirs. And yet, no one else noticed. To them, she was simply the future. The one who would bring them power. But to Fernon, she was a mystery. The scene ended as Solluha''r''s face was fully revealed, her eyes locking onto Fernon''s, her expression unreadable. She was calm, composed, but there was something in her gaze. Something that hinted at a past not yet uncovered. A past tied to a different realm entirely. Suddenly, the sapling closed again, so with her glorious eyes. Chapter 120: Shrinking Back in the damp, dark expanse of the catacombs, the Orc clans had gathered, earlier feasting and celebrating their victory under Volk''s command, now tense. Even though the air was thick with the smell of roasting meat, laughter, and the constant hum of conversation, everyone came to stop. Volk stood tall at the center, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the stone walls. He had ordered the feast, believing that after all they''d been through, his newly united horde deserved a moment of respite. But then it happened. A low murmur rippled through the crowd. One of the Orcs from the Bloodfang Clan, his voice shaky, called out. "Warchief... something''s wrong!" His words were barely audible at first, but they carried a weight that silenced the entire gathering. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Eyes turned toward the Orc, whose once-muscular form had begun to change. Volk furrowed his brow. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the slight shift in the Orc''s stature. The Orc''s broad, green body was shrinking. Slowly at first, then faster. His arms and legs withered, muscles shrinking, veins disappearing beneath the skin. The sight was both grotesque and horrifying. "What''s happening to him?" another Orc from the Ironhide Clan yelled, his voice trembling. One by one, the other Orcs began to feel the same strange sensation. Their bodies, once powerful and towering, started to shrink. Their voices rose in panic, echoing off the catacomb walls, as confusion turned to fear. "This is sorcery!" shouted an elder from the Stonejaw Clan, his voice shaking with both anger and terror. He raised his hand, but even his strong arm was withering before their very eyes. The Ironhide chieftain, normally calm and composed, was the next to shout, "Warchief, what have you done?" His massive form had shrunk to nearly half its size. He was no longer the indomitable force that had fought side by side with Volk. The panic grew. Shrkk, shrkk¡ªthe sound of bones shifting and muscles retreating filled the room as more Orcs began to diminish in size. One of the younger Orcs screamed in terror, "We''re turning into a small version of ourselves!" Volk stood frozen for a moment, confusion and shock etched on his face. His own body remained unaffected. His skin, cleansed by the crystal''s radiant energy, kept him from shrinking. The same could be said for the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan. But the other Orcs were not so lucky. Volk''s mind began to search for an answer, trying to find the reason for what was happening in front of him. He suddenly recalled something the Orcs had mentioned in passing, something he had not paid much attention to before: the Elven wives. Orcs, without or far away from their Elven wives, would slowly weaken. Without them, their strength would be drained, and they would continue to shrink, until they were no stronger than goblins. His eyes widened in realization. "It''s because we''ve been separated from their Elven wives¡­" he muttered under his breath. Another shriek echoed through the cavern as an Orc from the Frostfang Clan dropped to his knees, his hulking form now shrunken to a mere shadow of what it had been moments before. "This can''t be happening!" one of the younger warriors yelled as his voice cracked, his body now no larger than a common goblin''s. "We''re doomed!" another shouted in desperation, his voice full of hopelessness. The chieftains, those who had once mocked Volk for his arrogance, were now the most fearful of all. Their bodies were rapidly diminishing, and they looked to Volk in desperation. Their voices, once full of authority, were now shrill and weak. "Warchief!" one of them screamed, the title now more of a plea than an acknowledgment of his power. "You have to stop this!" "Stop what?" Volk snapped back, his patience thinning. "I didn''t cause this." "You must know something!" the Ironhide chieftain shouted, his voice trembling. "You have to fix this!" But Volk didn''t have the answers. He glanced at the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan, who remained unaffected. Their skin had been cleansed in the crystal''s light, sparing them from the curse that now afflicted the others. But Volk knew that this wasn''t going to end with just shrinking. If left unchecked, the Orcs would become as weak as goblins¡ªperhaps even weaker. As Volk pondered their fate, his gaze turned to the others who continued to shrink before his eyes. It was clear now¡ªwithout their Elven wives, they were doomed to wither away into nothing. But how could he stop it? Experience tales at m v|l e''-NovelFire.net Znnnng! A sudden chime broke through his thoughts. The sound echoed loudly in his mind. The system screen flashed before him, hovering in mid-air where only he could see. | Ding! | Mission: Have the Orcs have the highest kill count in the Ranker World within an hour! | Rewards: The other clans under the host will return to full strength and stop shrinking. | Failure: The host will shrink as well. | Volk''s eyes widened. "What...?" Before he could process the message, a low, rumbling noise filled the catacomb. The Orcs, now in full panic, turned toward the far wall, where a bright, glowing crack had appeared out of nowhere. The dimensional gap. The crack slowly widened, its edges pulsing with energy. Through it, they could see another world¡ªone filled with vast changing landscapes, strange creatures, and a sky that shimmered with the light of a distant sun. The Orcs stood frozen, staring in awe and confusion. "What is that?" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible. Volk clenched his fists, his jaw set in determination. He knew what had to be done. The system had given him a clear mission, and there was no room for failure. If he didn''t succeed, he too would shrink and weaken. But more importantly, the entire horde would fall apart. Their strength, their unity¡ªit all rested on his shoulders. Without a word, Volk turned to face the gap. He knew what this world was¡ªit was the Ranker World, a place of unknown. It could be a world where the strong dominated and the weak perished or something else entirely. He could hear the voices of the Orcs behind him, their panic growing louder as more of them continued to shrink. "What is this thing? Are our powers being sucked by this thing?" the Ironhide chieftain screamed, his once-proud voice now barely more than a squeak. Volk ignored them, his focus solely on the gap before him. He had one hour. One hour to claim the highest kill count and save his horde. His hand gripped the hilt of his weapon, and with a deep breath, he stepped forward into the unknown. As he crossed the threshold of the dimensional gap, anticipation thrummed in his veins. He expected the air to be thick with the scent of blood and battle, but all he felt was a disorienting emptiness. Volk''s mind began to create images of a scorched landscape, littered with the remnants of past conflicts. He imagined the silhouettes of countless creatures¡ªwarriors, beasts, monsters¡ªall poised for bloodshed. But as he moved deeper into the void, the world remained hidden from his sight. His senses heightened, he felt the ground shift beneath him, a subtle tremor echoing through the fabric of reality. He could almost hear the distant whispers of a chaotic battlefield, yet nothing materialized before him. Volk''s eyes narrowed, determination hardening his resolve. There was no turning back now. With a roar that echoed in the silence, he charged forward, his weapon raised high, ready to confront whatever lay ahead. Behind him, the screams of his shrinking horde faded into the distance as he set his sights on victory. The hour had begun. Chapter 121: Ranker world Volk stepped through the dimensional crack, and what greeted him wasn''t the endless fields of battle or monstrous landscapes he expected. Read exclusive chapters at m_v-l''-NovelFire.net He paused, his eyes widening as he took in the surroundings. "This¡­ This isn''t what I imagined the Ranker World would look like," he muttered in disbelief. The horizon stretched out before him, filled with familiar tall, looming structures, eerily familiar in their design. Skyscrapers. Roads. Even street lights flickered dimly overhead. His heartbeat quickened. What the hell? he thought, his hand tightening around his axe. S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The scene before him looked too much like Earth. Literally, like Earth. The streets, though cracked and littered with debris, still had the markings of a city he could have walked through in his previous life. Cars sat abandoned on the side of the road, some overturned, windows shattered. And yet, there was something off. The people¡ªthe civilians¡ªwere running, panicked, their faces filled with terror. They wore clothes he could have seen in any modern city: jeans, sneakers, coats, and jackets flapping wildly as they fled down the street. However, something was different. The fabric seemed more worn, more rugged, as if these people had been running for their lives for a long time. Sweat poured down their faces, and fear gripped their every step. But what were they running from? Volk''s eyes scanned the horizon, his breath steady even as his mind raced. Then he saw it. A shadow darted between the buildings¡ªfast, predatory. His instincts kicked in, and he spotted the creature chasing a woman, her scream echoing off the concrete walls. The thing pursuing her wasn''t human. Its hulking frame moved with unnatural speed, fur bristling in the wind, its eyes gleaming yellow in the twilight. A werewolf. Its claws scraped the pavement with each step, sparks flying as it closed the distance between itself and the helpless woman. Clackang! Clackackang! Volk''s protective instinct roared to life. His muscles tensed, and without thinking, his hand gripped his axe. His arm raised, the gleaming blade ready to be hurled through the air with deadly precision. But then¡ª Ding! A notification flashed across his vision, stopping him dead in his tracks. | The host will gain nothing for hurting or killing fellow Dungeon Crack creatures! | Would you like to continue? | His body froze. His mind raced. What? he thought, glancing between the system screen and the werewolf, which was closing in on the terrified woman. Why? The system''s words lingered in his head. He would gain nothing. No rewards. No boost. Nothing from killing a fellow creature of the Dungeon Crack. His grip on the axe tightened. For a moment, he hesitated. The system had rules¡ªrules he''d already failed once. Failing meant growing weaker. Failing meant being unable to protect his clan, unable to fulfill the mission. His mind flashed to the faces of the Dreadmaw Clan. And then¡­ to Solluha''r. The thought of losing strength, of becoming weak, of not being able to stand by her side¡ªit tore at him. But wasn''t he an Orc now? Shouldn''t he act like one? Should he care about rules when his instincts screamed at him to fight, to protect? Plus, don''t humans only care about themselves too? Plus, he''s not a human anymore, why would he care? His thoughts swirled in chaos, but before he could make a decision, the werewolf pounced immediately, with its claws outstretched toward the woman. No! Without thinking, Volk moved, but he wasn''t fast enough to stop the beast. The werewolf''s claws raked the air, and the woman let out a scream of pure terror. Schink! Before the beast could tear into her, a different sound echoed through the street. It was sharp, swift¡ªa whistle through the air. Thud! Volk''s axe struck, but not where he intended. The blade embedded itself in the woman''s skull, killing her instantly. Her scream was cut short, and her body immediately fell limp to the ground. The werewolf froze, its yellow eyes narrowing in confusion as it stared at its prey, now lifeless on the ground. And then its gaze shifted to Volk, who stood still, his chest heaving as his mind processed what he had just done. The werewolf''s snarl filled the air. Grrraaahhhh! It bared its fangs, saliva dripping from its maw. Volk had stolen its kill, and the beast wasn''t going to let that slide. It charged, claws scraping against the concrete as it lunged at Volk with unbridled rage. Volk''s lips curled into a snarl of his own. He didn''t hesitate this time. Thud! His fist collided with the werewolf''s face, a sickening crunch echoing in the street. The creature''s head snapped back with the force of the blow, but Volk wasn''t done. Bang! Another punch followed, this time sending the beast crashing into the ground with a resounding thump. The werewolf growled in defiance, trying to rise to its feet, but Volk didn''t give it a chance. His massive hands wrapped around its throat, and with a guttural roar, he lifted the creature off the ground, slamming it back down with a bone-shattering KABANG! The asphalt cracked beneath the weight of the impact, dust rising into the air. The werewolf''s body twitched, but Volk wasn''t done yet. He grabbed its limbs¡ªone by one¡ªhis muscles bulging as he pulled. Rip! The sound of tearing flesh filled the air as Volk tore the beast apart, he could hear the sounds of its fur and skin shredding in two mangle pieces like paper. Blood sprayed, painting the pavement red. With one final pull, the werewolf''s mangled body was flung to the side, landing in a heap of torn flesh and broken bones. Volk stood over the remains, his breath coming in heavy, controlled bursts. He wiped the blood from his knuckles, his gaze hardening as he looked around at the city. For a moment, silence fell, broken only by the distant sounds of civilians still fleeing in the distance. Volk looked up at the tall buildings that towered over him, their glass windows reflecting the fading light of the sky. This place¡­ It''s too much like Earth. But he wasn''t human anymore. Not Earth too. He stared at his green-skinned hands, the veins pulsing beneath the surface. He could feel the raw power coursing through his body, the strength that had come with being an Orc. There was no going back. "I''m not a human anymore," he muttered, his voice low, filled with certainty. "I''m an Orc." The words hung in the air as Volk turned his gaze back to the mangled remains of the werewolf. He didn''t feel regret for what he''d done. The system''s rules didn''t matter either. Not when survival was at stake. Not when the mission required strength. Volk took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering tension. The city around him was foreign, and nor Earth. He had to. The mission was still in motion, and the countdown was ticking. His eyes narrowed, scanning the cityscape once more. There was something bigger at play here. Something he didn''t yet understand. But whatever it was, he would face it head-on. As Volk stood tall, his shadow stretching across the bloodstained pavement, the distant hum of the city grew louder. He could feel it- more creatures lurking just beyond his sight, waiting for their chance. With a smirk, Volk turned, gripping his axe tightly. "I am an Orc!" Chapter 126: Escape from the open The rhythmic hum of the helicopter''s blades slicing through the air grew louder as the aircraft descended toward the city, casting ominous shadows across the debris-laden streets below.Inside, tension is so heavy in the copter. The soldiers, clad in tactical gear, each with rifles secured to their chests, sat in silence, their gazes locked on the small windows where the ruins of the city sprawled out beneath them. Yet, amidst the wreckage, something else caught their attention¡ªmoving figures. A horde of orcs. Sergeant Kim, the squad leader, was the first to speak, breaking the uneasy quiet with a sharp intake of breath. "There they are," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed in disbelief. His fingers tapped restlessly against his rifle, the weight of the decision ahead pressing down on him. Beside him, Corporal Han adjusted his helmet, voice tight with concern. "Should we fire now? We could wipe them out before they even see us." His hand hovered near the trigger of the mounted machine gun, the urge to act already pulsating through his veins. The radio crackled, and Lin Seok''s calm voice came through, cutting through the uncertainty like a knife. "No." The soldiers exchanged confused glances. Lin Seok''s reputation preceded him. He was one of the Pillars, an elite group of warriors, but this was different. These weren''t just ordinary enemies¡ªthey were orcs, massive, hulking creatures who had just destroyed half the city. The decision to hold fire seemed counterintuitive, almost suicidal. "Sir," Sergeant Kim began, his voice steady but laced with worry. "We''ve got a clear shot from up here. Are you sure you don''t want us to¡ª" "Hold your fire," Lin Seok interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "They''ve already noticed us. Dropping warriors into that mess without thinking first could cost us more than we gain." The soldiers exchanged uneasy looks, then reluctantly followed orders. The preparation for an attack was painstakingly slow as they geared up, ensuring every clip was full, every grenade properly secured. There was a certain ritual to it, a process that calmed their nerves even as their hearts raced faster. Sergeant Kim ran a hand over his rifle, checking the sights for the third time, while others tightened their harnesses, their bodies tense with anticipation. Meanwhile, Lin Seok peered through the front of the helicopter, his sharp eyes locking onto the orcs below. He was calm¡ªtoo calm for the situation, which unnerved some of the younger soldiers. As the chopper dipped lower, the details of the orcs became clearer. They weren''t just mindless brutes. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. No, these creatures moved with purpose, their hulking frames casting long shadows as they made their way toward the intact part of the city, avoiding the half they had already decimated. Corporal Han, peering through a scope, frowned. "They''re moving away from the destruction. Sir, they''re heading toward the untouched part of the city." Lin Seok''s brow furrowed slightly, his mind racing as he processed the orcs'' strategy. It wasn''t just brute force that had gotten them this far. They were being tactical. He leaned forward, studying their movement, and then it clicked. "They''re using the humans as shields," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His lips curled into a smile. "Smart." Sergeant Kim glanced back, unsure if he had heard correctly. "Smart, sir?" "They destroyed half the city," Lin Seok said, sitting back, his arms crossed over his chest. "But they''ve left the other half standing. There are still humans in those buildings, and those orcs know it. They''re counting on us hesitating because of the civilians." The helicopter rattled slightly as it adjusted its course, and the soldiers in the back, now fully prepped and ready, held onto their gear. They were itching for a fight, but Lin Seok''s words made them pause. The idea of using humans as shields sent a ripple of discomfort through the cabin. Private Lee, his voice barely above a whisper, looked toward Sergeant Kim. "What if they''re right? What if we can''t fire without hitting civilians?" Sergeant Kim''s jaw tightened, his thoughts racing. The orcs weren''t mindless monsters¡ªthis was a calculated move. They were forcing the soldiers into a moral dilemma: fire and risk civilian lives, or hold back and give the orcs an advantage. His mind churned with possibilities, the weight of every decision pressing down on him. Lin Seok''s gaze swept over his squad. He could see the hesitation, the uncertainty etched into their faces. They were soldiers, trained to follow orders, but this situation was testing them in ways they hadn''t anticipated. And Lin Seok couldn''t blame them. He chuckled softly, breaking the tension. "Do these orcs really think they''ve got the upper hand just because there are humans in the buildings?" Sergeant Kim shot him a glance. "With all due respect, sir, they might." Lin Seok waved a hand dismissively. "Let me handle them." Corporal Han, glancing at Lin Seok''s serene expression, frowned. "Sir, are you sure? These creatures¡ª" "They''re underestimating us." Lin Seok''s eyes flashed with confidence. "They think we won''t attack because they''ve taken cover among the civilians. But they''ve forgotten one thing." "And what''s that?" Sergeant Kim asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Lin Seok''s grin widened as he checked the sword strapped to his side, its blade gleaming faintly even in the dim light of the helicopter. "We''re the Pillars." The soldiers shifted uneasily, still unsure. They knew the Pillars were powerful, beyond ordinary soldiers, but facing a horde of orcs that had already torn through a city seemed like a different kind of fight. The helicopter trembled slightly as it neared the ground. The sound of its rotors beating through the air grew louder, and the tension inside the cabin reached a boiling point. Suddenly, the orcs below, as if sensing the impending arrival of the soldiers, raised their massive shields. The glint of metal and roughhide reflected in the sunlight as the shields locked into place, creating a barrier between the orcs and the helicopters above. Sergeant Kim swore under his breath. "They''re preparing for an assault." Corporal Han leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "They''re smarter than we thought, sir. They''re moving toward the buildings that are still intact." From their elevated vantage point, the soldiers watched as the orcs made their way toward the remaining structures, their shields raised defensively. In the distance, human civilians could be seen through the shattered windows of the buildings¡ªpeople, huddled in fear, unaware that they were being used as leverage in a brutal game of survival. Lin Seok''s eyes gleamed with amusement. "They think we won''t attack them because of the civilians." He stood up from his seat, the low ceiling of the helicopter making him duck slightly as he approached the front of the cabin. The soldiers watched him closely, their hands still gripping their weapons, uncertain of what was about to happen next. Without warning, Lin Seok turned to the military personnel seated near the cockpit. "Drop us," he ordered, his voice steady and firm. The personnel looked shocked, exchanging bewildered glances before one of them stammered, "Sir, are you sure? There are still civilians down there. If we drop¡ª" Lin Seok raised a hand, cutting him off. His expression was calm but resolute. "Trust me. We can handle it. The Pillars will deal with the orcs. The civilians won''t be harmed." The military personnel hesitated for only a moment before nodding. They had no reason to doubt a Pillar, after all. Lin Seok''s confidence was contagious, and soon, the others in the helicopter began to feel it too. As the helicopter prepared for the drop, Sergeant Kim leaned toward Corporal Han. "We''re really doing this?" Corporal Han shook his head with a bemused smile. "If Lin Seok says he can handle it, I''m not going to argue." The aircraft descended lower, the city''s broken landscape rising up to meet them. Lin Seok stood at the ready, his eyes locked on the orc horde below, their shields still raised, unaware of what was about to hit them. "Let''s show them what the Pillars are made of," Lin Seok said, his voice low but brimming with anticipation. And then, without another word, they dropped. Chapter 127: Elusive Pillars Volk''s eyes narrowed as he stood among the rubble, towering over the remains of the collapsed buildings.His muscled frame cast a long shadow across the cracked pavement. He scanned the sky, his keen senses immediately spotting the helicopters approaching on the horizon. The loud whup-whup-whup of the choppers'' blades grew louder, and with it came a sense of anticipation. Suddenly, a familiar ding echoed in his mind, and a system screen flashed before his eyes. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Ding! | Mission: Murder all the Ranked Pillars within an hour. | Ranked Pillars: 0/25. | Reward: Travel to Orzaroth. | Failure: The host will no longer be able to use Nuclear Devastation attacks in Grum-Gar form. | Mission Status: Ongoing. | Volk''s heart skipped a beat. No more Nuclear Devastation Strike? He clenched his fist, with reality slowly sinking into him. That attack was his most powerful weapon, the one that had turned the tide in battle against the Warlock. But worse than losing the attack, it meant something deeper¡ªit meant his chance of seeing Solluha''r, his wife, would be lost. A scowl formed across his rough features, and his yellowed tusks glinted in the dying sunlight. The thought of being cut off from Orzaroth, from Solluha''r, was unacceptable. A slow, calculating smile spread across his face, revealing his sharpened teeth. "I won''t let that happen," Volk growled, his voice deep and guttural. His glowing eyes flickered as he turned to face the Horde of orcs that stood behind him. "Into the city!" Volk bellowed. His voice boomed through the desolate streets like thunder, and the orcs behind him stirred, their massive shields clinking against their armor as they prepared to move. "We can''t afford to be out here in the open. If those flying insects rain down fire from above, we''ll be crushed." The orcs grunted in agreement, some snarling, eager for the bloodshed to come. Volk raised his hand, motioning them forward, and the Horde began to move. The ground shook beneath their feet as they made their way into the part of the city where buildings still stood intact, tall and looming, their windows shattered but their walls mostly undamaged. The sound of their march echoed in the ruins, a rhythmic thud-thud-thud as their boots hit the pavement. Volk kept his eyes on the sky, watching as the helicopters circled like vultures. He could feel it in his gut¡ªthose weren''t just soldiers. Something else was coming. Something eerie. The ranked Pillars. He could sense their presence even before the system mission had appeared. The Pillars were near. As they entered the deeper part of the city, Volk''s instincts flared. The buildings here were perfect for cover, but also for an ambush. He knew it, and so did his Horde. The tension in the air was thick, the orcs moving cautiously now, shields raised, ready for anything. Their heavy breathing mixed with the distant whir of the choppers, creating an eerie symphony of impending conflict. And then it came. Fwoosh! A blur of movement, too fast to track with the naked eye, cut through the air. One of the orcs stumbled as his shield was struck with blinding speed. CLANG! The impact rang out like a bell, reverberating off the surrounding buildings. Volk''s head snapped toward the source of the attack, but before he could process what he''d seen, another strike hit. BANG! Another shield, this time from the right. The attack was relentless. The orcs tried to defend, but the speed of the enemy was overwhelming. They were under attack from all sides, but their enemies were invisible, mere shadows darting between the buildings. "Hold the line!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. His Horde responded immediately, shifting into defensive formation, shields interlocking like the scales of a dragon. Their hulking forms created a near-impenetrable wall, but the attacks kept coming, faster and faster, like a deadly rainstorm. BAM! BAM! BAM! Every blow was blocked, but the sheer force of the strikes was pushing them back, step by step. Volk''s mind began to think of something else. These weren''t ordinary soldiers. No human could move that fast. His instincts screamed at him to think quickly. This had to be the Pillars. He needed to act before his Horde was overwhelmed. With a sharp grunt, Volk raised his massive hand. "Set the trap!" The orcs, well-trained and battle-hardened, moved swiftly despite their size. They began positioning themselves, spreading out along the narrow streets and alleyways, using the intact buildings as natural choke points. Volk''s plan was simple¡ªlure the attackers into a false sense of superiority and then crush them with brute force. He''d seen this work in countless battles before, and it would work again. But these attackers were different. As the last orc took his position, a moment of silence fell. The attacks stopped. Volk''s eyes darted around the area, searching for any sign of movement. For a moment, everything was still. The air was thick with tension, every orc bracing for the next wave. And then, it happened. SWISH! The first attack came from above, straight down from the rooftop of a nearby building. A glowing blade sliced through the air, aimed directly at one of the larger orcs in the rear formation. The orc raised his shield, but the speed of the strike was too fast. CLANG! The shield held, but barely. The orc stumbled back, his arm shaking from the impact. Volk''s eyes widened. These weren''t normal attacks. They were coordinated, precise, and deadly. Before Volk could issue another order, three more figures appeared, darting between the buildings, their movements so quick they were almost a blur. These were no ordinary warriors. These were Pillars that the system speaks of! How is he gonna kill them if they were these damn fast? BAM! A second orc was hit, his shield knocked aside by an unseen force. The orcs tried to close in on the attackers, but the speed and agility of the Pillars made it impossible. They slipped through the gaps in the defenses like smoke, striking and retreating before the orcs could retaliate. Volk growled in frustration. "Trap them! Close in!" But the trap was useless. The Pillars moved too fast, too unpredictably. Every time an orc swung his axe or slammed his shield, the Pillars were already gone, a blur of motion disappearing into the shadows. The Horde was growing desperate. Even Volk could feel it¡ªthe frustration, the anger. His plan was failing. One of the Pillars, a figure in a sleek, dark uniform with a glowing sword in each hand, stood atop a nearby building, looking down on Volk with a smirk. "You think you can trap us?" the Pillar sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "We are the ranked Pillars. Your brute force means nothing." Volk''s teeth ground together, his blood boiling. He had never faced opponents like this before, not even Zenveil. These were foes that couldn''t be overwhelmed by sheer strength alone. They required something more. But Volk was not about to give up. Not now. Not when he was so close to completing his mission, to seeing Solluha''r again. With a roar that shook the very foundations of the city, Volk charged forward, his massive axe raised high. He would crush them. He would rip these Pillars apart with his bare hands if he had to. But as he swung his axe, aiming for the figure atop the building, the Pillar vanished in a blur of motion, reappearing behind him in the blink of an eye. "Too slow," the Pillar taunted, his sword flashing as he slashed at Volk''s back. Volk spun around, his massive fist swinging out to meet the Pillar, but once again, the attacker was gone, slipping through his grasp like water. The battle was turning into a game of cat and mouse, and Volk hated it. But he wasn''t going to lose. Not here. Not now. "Come at me, cowards!" Volk roared, his voice echoing through the city. "Face me head-on, or are you too weak?" The Pillars paused, their movements slowing as they considered Volk''s challenge. For a moment, it seemed like they would accept. But then, in a flash, they vanished again, leaving Volk and his Horde standing in the ruins of the city, their trap useless. And for the first time in a long while, Volk felt doubt creeping into his mind. How to kill them? Did the system miscalculated? Chapter 128: Pillars approach Inside the building, the dim light flickered as Lin Seok stood at the center, his sharp gaze fixed on the map of the city sprawled across the table.The soft hum of electronics, along with the distant sound of helicopters outside, created an uneasy atmosphere. Beside him, a group of elite warriors¡ªeach a Pillar of the Ranker world¡ªgathered, their expressions tense but focused. Among them were Jin, the stoic swordsman, his katana resting casually on his back, and Kira, the sniper, who silently cleaned the barrel of her high-tech rifle. Lin Seok leaned over the table, running his finger across the map. His brow furrowed as he spoke, his voice calm but authoritative. "Those orcs... they''re not just brutes. They''re slow, yes, but that''s not the problem. Their battle instincts are... terrifying." Jin, standing with his arms crossed, nodded slowly. "They''re reading our movements, Lin. They know where we''re going to strike before we do." Kira glanced up from her rifle, her sharp eyes narrowing. "That''s impossible. Orcs shouldn''t be able to react that quickly. Not unless... they''ve fought battles like this before." Lin Seok sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It''s not just speed or strength. It''s something more primal. Every time we launch an attack, they shift their positions, as if they can sense it coming. They defend, but it''s not reactionary. It''s... instinctive." Jin tapped his fingers against his sword hilt. "That makes them incredibly dangerous. They don''t have the speed to match us, but their ability to predict our strikes neutralizes that advantage. It''s almost like fighting someone who''s fought a hundred battles before you''ve even unsheathed your sword." Kira smirked slightly, her voice laced with dry humor. "So, what you''re saying is, they''re slow-moving tanks with predictive abilities. Wonderful." There was a quiet chuckle from across the room. Ji-Hoon, the team''s combat strategist, who had been observing the conversation, leaned forward. His soft-spoken voice broke the silence. "What''s concerning is that they are not panicking. Most orcs we''ve fought before have a tendency to charge blindly. But this group¡ªthey''re calculated. They''re sticking to their leader''s commands. "So when we try to be arrogant to frustrate them, unlike Orcs who were easily provoked from other times, they are not easily angered¡­" Jin, his eyes narrowed, added, "Their shields are thick, their defense is near impenetrable, and if we engage them in close combat, they''ll crush us with their raw power." Kira shrugged, sliding the rifle scope back into place with a loud click. "They''re tough, sure. But they can''t avoid getting shot forever. We just need to be patient and pick them off from a distance." Just as the conversation reached a tense lull, one of the long-range Pillars, So-Won, shifted uncomfortably from his spot by the window. His fingers danced over the trigger of his energy rifle, his eyes scanning the horizon through the building''s shattered windows. "Maybe we should move in too. They won''t expect us to engage them directly. We could flank them, create an opening." Lin Seok, shaking his head slowly, held up a hand to stop him. "No. Standby for now. You and the other long-range units are our secret weapons. If we send you in too early, we''ll lose our advantage." So-Won, clearly frustrated, sighed and leaned back, but he respected Lin Seok''s command. The long-range Pillars knew they had a crucial role to play, but they also understood the value of timing. Kira raised an eyebrow at Lin Seok, silently questioning the decision, but said nothing. She knew better than to argue with him. Lin Seok turned back to the map. His finger tapped the location where the orcs had retreated into the undamaged part of the city. "They think they''re safe there, using the buildings and the humans as shields. But they''ve underestimated us." Jin straightened up, a cold gleam in his eyes. "So, what''s the plan?" Lin Seok looked at his team, his confidence unshaken. "We attack again. This time, we push harder, faster. Break their defenses, wound as many as possible, and don''t give them time to regroup." A murmur of agreement passed through the room as the Pillars prepared themselves for another round of battle. Jin unsheathed his sword, the metallic shing sound cutting through the tension. Kira cocked her rifle, the faint hum of its energy cells charging up filled the air. The tension rose as each Pillar readied themselves, their determination clear. "Let''s move out," Lin Seok ordered. --- The Pillars struck with brutal efficiency. The sound of boots hitting the pavement echoed as they moved through the streets like shadows. They were a blur of motion, appearing and disappearing among the ruins as they zeroed in on the orcs hiding behind the buildings. The speed and ferocity of their assault were unmatched, but even still, the orcs remained formidable. Fwoosh! An arrow from Kira''s sniper rifle shot through the air with a piercing screech, its target a hulking orc at the back of the formation. The arrow struck the orc''s shield with a thunderous thud!, barely missing its mark but staggering the beast. Before the orc could recover, Jin was already upon it. His katana flashed in the sunlight, slicing through the air with a sharp whissss! as he struck at the orc''s leg. The orc let out a guttural roar, stumbling back, but it''s instinctive defense kicked in immediately. Its massive shield slammed down, deflecting Jin''s blade with a deafening CLANG! The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, forcing Jin to back off. But even as he did, another Pillar, Ji-Hoon, launched a barrage of energy blasts from his gauntlets, targeting the orc''s exposed side. Zap! Zap! Zap! The orc growled, its body seared by the blasts, but still, it stood, unyielding. Lin Seok watched from a distance, his eyes darting between his comrades and the orcs. Despite their slow movements, the orcs were holding their own. Each time a Pillar landed a hit, the orcs shifted, adapting, their shields absorbing the brunt of the attacks. It was like fighting against a wall that could move and react. The sheer force of their defenses was beginning to take its toll. The Pillars continued their assault, striking from all sides, but the orcs were unrelenting. Their shields clanged and banged, their grunts echoing through the city streets as they defended against every attack. And then, finally, the Pillars managed to break through. Jin''s katana flashed again, this time catching an orc off guard. His blade sliced through its arm, sending a spurt of blood into the air. The orc howled in pain, its shield dropping to the ground with a thud. Another orc, hit by Kira''s sniper shot, staggered back, its leg collapsing under the weight of its injuries. The orcs were wounded, but even so, their resolve didn''t falter. They roared in defiance, their eyes glowing with battle lust, and their shields remained raised, ready to defend against the next wave of attacks. --- As the battle raged on, Lin Seok and his team regrouped in the safety of the buildings. Sweat dripped down their faces, their breathing heavy. The attacks had been successful, but the cost had been high. "Damn," Kira muttered, leaning against the wall and wiping sweat from her brow. "Those things are tough. They''re not going down easily." Jin nodded, his sword still gleaming with orc blood. "We managed to wound them, but they''re still standing. Their shields are ridiculous." Lin Seok, despite his composed demeanor, felt the weight of the situation. He glanced at the remaining Pillars, noticing their exhausted expressions. "How''s everyone''s mana?" Ji-Hoon grimaced. "Halved. We''ve been pushing hard, and those defenses of theirs... they''re eating through our energy." Kira shook her head in frustration. "It''s like hitting a brick wall. Every time I land a shot, they just raise those damn shields." Lin Seok didn''t respond immediately. He took a deep breath, glancing out the window at the battlefield. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The orcs were still strong, even after everything they''d thrown at them. It was becoming clear that this fight wasn''t going to be as simple as they had hoped. "We need to rethink our approach," Lin Seok said finally, his voice steady but determined. "These orcs are unlike any we''ve faced before. They may be slow, but their instincts... their resilience... we can''t underestimate them." Chapter 129: New Plan Meanwhile, in the Orc side, Volk paced back and forth, his massive frame radiating an aura of frustration.The mission. It was ticking away like a war drum in his head. Twenty minutes had already slipped through his fingers, and nothing had been achieved. Every second that passed without progress gnawed at him. Volk knew that if the system gave him a time limit, something catastrophic would follow. There was no room for failure. He had forty minutes left. Suddenly, his crimson eyes scanned the battlefield, narrowing as they settled on a distant building. Behind the crumbling walls, he could see the flicker of hope in the humans'' eyes¡ªespecially the younger ones, teenage kids who still clung to the belief that the fast Pillars would save them. That hope... it gave him an idea. Without wasting another second, Volk raised his voice, deep and guttural, to address his warband. "I''ve got a plan," he declared, his tone sharp with urgency. The other orcs, who had been bellowing war cries and pounding their shields, quieted to listen. "We take some of those humans as hostages. Make them hesitate. Use them as shields. It''ll force their hand, make the soldiers think twice before they attack us with everything they''ve got!" For a moment, there was silence among the orcs, their glowing eyes flickering as they processed Volk''s words. Then, one by one, the grumbling began. An older orc, his tusks chipped and scarred from countless battles, stepped forward. "What?" His voice was a rumbling growl, filled with disdain. "Hostages? Using weaklings to win a battle? What kind of tactic is that, Warchief?" He spat the title with contempt, making the other orcs nod in agreement. Another orc, this one younger but equally as fierce, pounded his fist against his chest. "We are orcs! Battle is in our blood! We fight with honor and strength, not with tricks and cowardice! You would have us take prisoners? Hide behind the feeble?" Volk''s jaw tightened as the defiance rippled through the ranks. Several orcs started to murmur in agreement, the ground trembling beneath their massive feet. It was clear¡ªthey enjoyed the thrill of this fight too much to resort to what they saw as dishonorable tactics. They wanted to crush their enemies in a pure battle of might, not trick them into submission. Another voice boomed from the crowd. "And what of your blood, Volk?" Experience new tales on mvl The speaker stepped forward, his muscles bulging as he crossed his arms. "If you''re so keen on avoiding a proper fight, maybe your blood isn''t as pure as you claim. Maybe you''ve forgotten what it means to be an orc!" The words hit Volk like a punch to the gut, but his expression remained stone cold. He scanned the crowd, sensing the brewing rebellion. Some of the orcs looked hesitant, while others seemed outright insulted by his plan. They didn''t understand the stakes. They couldn''t. He couldn''t exactly tell them about the system that bound his very survival. But now, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. His warriors had their own minds, and though he could crush their skulls in a show of dominance, it wasn''t the right time for that. He needed them united, not broken. One of the orcs, a hulking brute with a gnarled axe, snorted. "Besides, those fast warriors¡ªthose so-called Pillars¡ªthey''re already running low on mana. "You can see it in their movements. They''re slowing down. If we wait, we can overpower them in a proper fight. Isn''t that better than cowering behind weaklings?" Volk gritted his teeth, feeling the anger rising in his chest. He wanted to shout at them, to beat sense into their thick skulls. But he knew it wouldn''t work. No time. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He had to think smarter. These orcs were bound by their honor and battle instincts. If he couldn''t appeal to their fear of shrinking or their loyalty, perhaps he could manipulate their desires. There was no other choice. Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind, and Volk''s eyes glimmered with cold determination. His voice lowered to a menacing growl as he stepped forward, commanding the attention of the entire horde. "Listen closely," he began, his voice like the rumble of a coming storm. "The dungeon is watching us. It''s not just about winning this battle¡ªit''s about surviving in the long run. If we don''t kill these fast warriors in the next ten minutes, we''ll start to shrink. All of us." The crowd of orcs grew still. Their eyes widened, muscles tensing as they absorbed his words. The thought of shrinking, of becoming weak and powerless, sent ripples of shock through the group. Their primal fear had been touched, and Volk could see it in their faces. "You all felt it before, didn''t you?" Volk continued, his voice growing louder. "The weakening, the shrinking! The feeling of losing your strength! It''ll happen again if we don''t act now. And this time, we won''t have the Elven Witches or our wives to reverse it. This is our only chance to stay in our strongest forms!" One orc, his hands trembling slightly, stepped forward. "Are you sure, Warchief?" His voice was low, almost a whisper. Volk turned to face him, locking eyes with the warrior. His expression was deadly serious. "I''m sure. We''ve already lost time. If we don''t act now, we won''t have another chance. This is the dungeon''s will." The orcs exchanged nervous glances, their confidence shaken. The thrill of battle still burned in their eyes, but now, there was something else¡ªfear. The fear of losing their power, of shrinking back into weak, feeble forms. It gnawed at their pride, making them question their instincts. Another orc spoke up, his voice wavering. "But the fast warriors... if they''re low on mana, shouldn''t we just wait? Let them tire themselves out?" Volk clenched his fists, his patience wearing thin. "If we wait, we risk losing everything. Do you want to go back to being weak? To depend on others for your strength? Or do you want to stay strong, to stay in control?" The orcs hesitated, but the fear of shrinking was now overpowering their desire for a straightforward battle. Slowly, they began to nod, their resistance crumbling under Volk''s logic. The idea of holding onto their strength was too appealing to ignore. One by one, the orcs grunted in agreement, their massive heads bobbing. "Fine," one of them growled. "We''ll follow your plan. But only because we trust you, Warchief." Volk''s lips curled into a faint smile. He had won. "Good. Then prepare yourselves. We''ll move in now and take them down. No more waiting. No more chances." The orcs, though still grumbling under their breath, began to ready themselves for the assault. Shields were raised, weapons gripped tightly, and a newfound sense of urgency filled the air. The horde was still battle-hungry, but now, they were focused. Volk, standing tall at the front of his warriors, turned his gaze toward the city where the Pillars were regrouping. He could still see the glimmers of hope in the humans'' eyes from afar, but soon, that hope would be crushed. They wouldn''t know what hit them. "Follow me," he barked. His voice cut through the noise like a blade, sharp and commanding. The orcs fell into formation behind him, their footsteps shaking the ground as they prepared to strike. As Volk led his horde through the ruined streets, he clenched his fists tighter, feeling the weight of the mission still lingering over him. He had managed to sway his warriors this time, but deep down, he knew he was walking a fine line. One misstep, and everything could fall apart. He had to complete the mission. Failure wasn''t an option¡ªnot if he wanted to see Solluha''r again and keep the Nuclear Devastation Strike! The war drums in his mind quickened their beat, he matched the pulse of his heavy heart. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaar!!!" Chapter 130: Pillars tight spot Lin Seok stood on the rooftop, his eyes scanning the battlefield below.The chaotic streets were littered with the bodies of the fallen, and smoke billowed from buildings that had been reduced to rubble. His breathing was heavy, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the scene. Suddenly, one of the orcs moved. Something was different¡ªsomething unsettling. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He squinted, focusing on their movements. The horde was splitting into three groups, each heading in a different direction. Lin Seok knew that these Orcs are intelligent. So he assumed that this wasn''t the typical mindless charge of battle-hungry orcs. No, this was calculated. Strategic. "What are they planning?" Lin Seok muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed in concern. He quickly turned to the other Pillars gathered around him. "Are the others sent here? Where are they now?" A young Pillar with bright, anxious eyes and a deep cut across his cheek shook his head. "They''re taking civilians away, trying to evacuate them before the orcs can get to them." Lin Seok''s heart dropped. "Wait. Civilians?" His mind raced as he turned his gaze back toward the nearest building where the orcs were headed. The structure was still mostly intact, standing tall in the midst of the carnage. He saw movement in the windows¡ªsmall figures huddled together. His breath caught in his throat. "No... no, no, no!" His voice rose to a shout. "Stop them! That building¡ªit''s full of kids!" Panic spread among the Pillars like wildfire. One of them, a veteran with deep-set eyes, looked horrified. "But... Orcs don''t hurt the weak! The women, the elderly, children¡ªthey never have in all the years we''ve fought them! The orcs that have come through other cracks have always spared the helpless. What kind of orcs are these?" Lin Seok didn''t have an answer, but he could feel a deep pit forming in his stomach. Even earlier, he could feel that these aren''t the orcs they were used to facing. They are more intelligent and more brilliant just what they did to the buildings of the other part of the city. Seeing them go to the children. He was thinking something. These orcs could be ruthless. Calculated. Dangerous in ways they hadn''t expected. The veteran Pillar''s voice rose in desperation. "We need to stop them now!" Lin Seok snapped into action, barking orders into his earpiece. "Get the helicopters! Gun them down before they reach the building!" Moments later, the whirring of rotor blades echoed through the air as the helicopters swooped in, their mounted guns aimed squarely at the advancing orcs. The soldiers inside were tense, their hands steady on their triggers. "Take the shot," Lin Seok ordered. BRRRRRRRRRTTTT!!! The sound of machine-gun fire filled the sky as the helicopters opened fire, the rounds raining down on the orcs. Bullets whizzed through the air, striking the ground and sending up plumes of dust and debris. But the orcs were undeterred. One massive orc, his skin dark and scarred, raised his club high above his head. With a roar that shook the very air around him, he swung the weapon with incredible force. The club smashed into one of the helicopters, sending it spiraling out of control. The machine veered off course, its tail spinning wildly before it crashed into the side of a building with a deafening bang. Flames erupted from the wreckage. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaar!!!" The orcs'' war cries filled the air as they laughed, mocking the humans'' futile efforts. Another helicopter attempted to swoop in for another attack, but a second orc hurled a massive chunk of debris at it. The projectile struck the helicopter squarely, sending it tumbling from the sky in a ball of fire. Lin Seok''s eyes widened in shock. "What... what are they doing?" He couldn''t believe it. The orcs were taking down helicopters with nothing but brute strength. These weren''t the mindless savages he had fought before. These were something else entirely¡ªmonsters in every sense of the word. On the ground, the orcs were laughing, taunting the humans as they advanced. "Weak!" one of them bellowed, his voice booming across the battlefield. "Humans are weak! Your annoying little weapons can''t stop us! It won''t even pierce our skins! Lok''tar Ogar!" Another orc, grinning wickedly, pointed at a group of soldiers huddling behind a destroyed barricade. "Come out and fight like real warriors! Or is hiding all you humans know how to do?" The Pillars exchanged uneasy glances. The orcs were using their brute strength and cunning in ways they hadn''t expected. They were fast, unpredictable, and relentless. And now, they were heading straight for the building full of children. "Stop those orcs!" Lin Seok shouted, his voice desperate. "Do whatever it takes, but stop them!" The ranked Pillars sprang into action, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, closing the distance between them and the orcs. Lin Seok drew his sword, with its blade gleaming in the dim light. He charged forward, leading the assault, his heart pounding in his ears. But the orcs were already scaling the building, their massive hands gripping the sides as they climbed with alarming speed. The Pillars reached them just as the first few orcs made it to the windows. Lin Seok slashed at one of the orcs, his blade biting into thick green flesh. The orc grunted, staggering back but not falling. Another Pillar fired a bolt of energy that hit an orc square in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground below with a sickening thud. But it wasn''t enough. More orcs were already clambering up the side of the building, their eyes set on their prize. Inside the building, the children could see the monstrous forms approaching through the cracked windows. Fear filled the air, and the sound of their panicked cries echoed through the halls. "Help! Mommy! Daddy!" The children screamed, their tiny voices trembling with terror. They huddled together, their eyes wide with fear as the orcs reached the windows, their massive hands smashing through the glass. "Stop them!" one of the ranked Pillars shouted, blasting an orc with a powerful attack that sent him flying off the building. But even as they took down a few, more took their place. The orcs were relentless. Lin Seok''s heart raced as he fought to hold the line, but he could see it in the eyes of the other Pillars. They were losing ground. The orcs were too strong, too determined. And then, with a sickening realization, Lin Seok watched as a group of tanner-skinned orcs, tougher and more brutal than the rest, broke through the windows and snatched the children from their hiding places. The orcs grabbed them with terrifying ease, lifting them into the air as if they weighed nothing. The children''s screams pierced the air, their small hands reaching out desperately for help. "No! Please! Don''t take us!" Lin Seok''s heart sank. "No!" he shouted, charging forward, his sword raised high. But it was too late. The orcs had already secured their prizes. They moved with a chilling efficiency, leaping from the windows and carrying the children down to the streets below. "Hold your fire!" one of the Pillars yelled, his voice strained with panic. "Don''t shoot! They''ve got the kids!" The soldiers froze, their fingers hovering over their triggers. Discover exclusive content at mvl They couldn''t risk hitting the children. The orcs had them, and now the humans were powerless to stop them. Back on the street, the orcs regrouped, their booming laughter filling the air. "Lok''tar Ogaaar!" they roared, holding the children aloft like trophies. Their mocking jeers echoed through the streets as they dared the humans to make a move. Lin Seok stood on the rooftop, his sword hanging limply by his side. His chest heaved with frustration and fear. They had lost this round. The orcs had the upper hand, and there was nothing they could do. The orcs continued to laugh, their voices loud and mocking as they paraded their captives. The sight of it¡ªthe children crying, helpless in the grip of those monstrous hands¡ªmade Lin Seok''s blood boil. But there was nothing he could do. The battle was far from over, but the orcs had just proven they were more cunning and ruthless than anyone had expected. Chapter 131: When the children die The orcs laughed, their deep, guttural voices echoing through the war-torn streets as they held their ground against the relentless assault of the human Ranked Pillars.BRAHAHAHHAHAHA! GRUHAHAHAHHAHA! KYARUHUHUHUHU! Bullets whizzed through the air, and the loud, thunderous BANG! BANG! BANG! of gunfire filled the atmosphere, but the orcs barely flinched. Their thick hides and bone clubs absorbed the brunt of the attacks, and their confidence only seemed to grow with each failed human assault. Volk stood amidst his horde, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the battlefield. His heart was thumping so hard, not from the heat of battle, but from a growing time that was being wasted. He could even hear the ticking clock in his mind. Every second slipping away felt like sand through his fingers. The system''s countdown felt fast¡ªforty minutes left, and still, they were no closer to victory. His jaw clenched. They needed to end this. Fast. "We don''t have time for this," Volk muttered under his breath, gripping his axe tighter. His thoughts turned to his Grum-gar form¡ªthe towering, radioactive behemoth that could turn the tide of battle in an instant. If he could just tap into that power, they could finish this once and for all. But before he could voice his plan, a deep chuckle rose beside him. Grashk, his friend orc in the same age, now holding a massive, bone club he wielded like a shield, turned to Volk with a knowing grin. "I know what you''re thinking¡­ You think you can turn into Grum-gar form?" Grashk said, his voice thick with amusement. "Even if you try, you won''t be able to, Volk." He grunted as he raised his club, blocking another barrage of bullets from the Pillars'' guns. Volk was surprised, "How do you-" then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he growled, half-deflecting a blast with his own axe, the edge of it scraping against the incoming projectiles. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Grashk''s laughter rumbled deep in his chest as he slammed his club into the ground, sending a shockwave that rattled the nearby debris. "Our wives," he said, eyes glinting with mischief. "We can only turn into Grum-gar if they are near. But now¡­ they are realms apart. We can''t transform, not while they''re so far away." Volk felt a jolt of surprise course through him. He hadn''t known this. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the information. He had been counting on his Grum-gar form as a last resort, but now¡­ "How can that be?" Volk asked, his voice tight as he parried another incoming attack with his axe. "What if we transform? What does it mean?" Grashk raised his bone club high, and with a savage grin, he brought it crashing down into the earth again, cracking the stone beneath their feet. "If we transform," he began, his voice almost reverent, "it means we don''t need our wives anymore. And if we don''t need them, it means we can do whatever we want. Plus, it''s a sign we''ll never shrink again. That''s why we protect the elven witches. That''s why we always return to them." Volk''s mind began to spin. Protecting the witches¡ªthat had always been the priority for orcs like Grashk. They believed their power was tied to them. But Volk had never needed a wife to transform. Back when he first unlocked his radioactive form, he didn''t have Solluha''r by his side. How had he managed to awaken his power then? "Why was I able to transform without my wife? Why could I use the Grum-gar form back then?" Volk demanded, his voice laced with confusion. Grashk glanced at him, his grin fading slightly. "You were in a territory," he said simply. "A territory filled with battle, blood, and the energy of war. Especially magic. That''s why you could. But if you had been in the Catacombs, facing the Warlock without a wife, you wouldn''t have been able to transform. That''s the way it works." Volk felt a knot of frustration form in his chest. Experience more content on mvl So that was the secret? It had to do with the territory? It didn''t matter now. He didn''t have time to dwell on it. Whether or not Grashk was right, Volk was still confident in his system. He could still transform into his radioactive form. But the question remained¡ªhow would the other orcs react? If he used his radioactive form, which was similar to Grum-gar, would they start to believe they didn''t need the witches anymore? Would it change their entire belief system? And if that happened, how could he control them? His thoughts began to run as he deflected another volley of attacks from the Ranked Pillars. Grashk was right about one thing¡ªif the orcs thought they no longer needed their wives, it could lead to chaos. They might refuse to return to their old ways, and that would cause a rift in their ranks. Especially, right now. Volk couldn''t afford that right now. But there was something else gnawing at him¡ªwhy had he been able to transform without a wife, while the others couldn''t? How had he broken the rules that bound his kind? He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts. It didn''t matter. What mattered now was completing the mission. The children they had captured were useful as hostages, but Volk knew it would take time to wear down the Pillars and kill them all. And time was something he didn''t have. He needed to lure the Ranked Pillars into a trap. A quick, decisive strike. His mind sharpened as he watched the battlefield unfold before him. The humans were relentless, but Volk could sense their exhaustion. Their mana reserves were running low. The speed and ferocity of their attacks were beginning to falter. That''s when Volk knew it was time to act. A cold smile curled across his lips as he turned to his horde. "Get ready," he commanded, his voice low but filled with authority. "We''ll lure them in." The orcs grinned, their bloodlust rising. Even Grashk, who had been musing about their inability to transform, nodded in agreement. They were eager for battle, and Volk could feel their excitement building. Volk raised his axe, the heavy blade gleaming in the pale light of the dying sun. His muscles tensed as he prepared for the next wave of attacks. The human Pillars were nearly spent. He could see it in their movements¡ªtheir hesitation, their slower reactions. As the next barrage of human firepower hit their shields, Volk stepped forward, blocking with his axe. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off his weapon, and for a moment, the battlefield seemed to still. The humans were tiring, and the orcs were ready. Volk turned toward the building where the children were held. He glanced at them, huddled together, eyes wide with terror. They were weak, defenseless. A perfect bait. With a deliberate motion, Volk raised his axe high into the air. The human Pillars watched in horror, their eyes widening as they realized what was about to happen. Without a second thought, Volk brought the axe down, aiming directly at the children. The battlefield fell silent, save for the soft whimpering of the terrified children. The Ranked Pillars, though weakened, sprang into action, their voices rising in panic. "NO! STOP HIM!" Volk''s grin widened as he felt the tide of the battle finally turning in his favor. The trap was set. Chapter 132: First Blood Lin Seok stood at the edge of the battle, watching as the other Pillars geared up to charge toward the orcs.His heart felt like a hammer pounding his chest in a thrumming hard, but not from fear¡ªno, it was anger. He could see the trap unfolding before his very eyes. The orcs were laughing, their guttural voices echoing through the broken streets, and they were looking directly at the Pillars with a twisted kind of amusement. They weren''t moving to harm the children. Not yet. However, he''s sure that it''s a trap! "Hold your ground!" Lin Seok''s voice rang out sharply, cutting through the noise of the battlefield. He turned toward the ranked Pillars, his eyes locking onto the closest one, a tall, broad-shouldered man named Jihoon, known for his reckless bravery. "Jihoon! Listen to me. It''s a trap. They''re using the children as bait. If you rush in now, they''ll¡ª" But Jihoon''s eyes flashed with stubborn defiance. "We can''t just stand here, Seok! They have kids in there!" His voice was full of conviction, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword tightly. "You think we can just watch and wait while those monsters threaten them? What kind of heroes would we be? So what if it''s bait? We are faster, as long as we keep attacking, we will find a gap and take advantage of it!" Lin Seok clenched his fists, barely holding back the urge to scream. "I''m not saying we leave the children! But if you rush in like this, without a plan, they''ll pick you off one by one. The orcs know what they''re doing. Look at them! They''re waiting for you to tire yourselves out. They''re not stupid! "Plus, that''s what we are doing! We are watching them to find a gap to their defense!" Next to Jihoon, another Pillar, Sunwoo, a fire mage with a temper as hot as his spells, spat on the ground. "Lin Seok, you''re not the boss here. You don''t get to make all the calls. We''re Pillars too. We can make our own decisions. Plus, we won''t see a gap if we don''t try and find one!" Lin Seok''s eyes burned with frustration as he scanned the faces of the other Pillars. He could see the conflict in their eyes, the tension between wanting to save the children and the nagging fear that he might be right. But Sunwoo and Jihoon weren''t listening. They were already inching forward, with their eyes set on the building where the children were huddled, terrified and helpless. "Goddamn it, Jihoon, Sunwoo, this isn''t about being the boss! You two are so easy to fool!" Lin Seok''s voice cracked with desperation. "This is about survival. Look at them! Look at the orcs! They''re not charging¡ªthey''re laughing. They''re baiting us!" Jihoon shot Lin Seok a hard look over his shoulder. "We don''t have time for this, Seok. I won''t let innocent kids die just because we were too scared to act." He glanced at Sunwoo, who nodded back at him, and they both started forward. Lin Seok stepped in front of them, blocking their path. "No, Jihoon, stop! Think for a second. If you go in there now, without backup, you''ll be playing right into their hands!" "Get out of my way," Jihoon growled, shoving Lin Seok aside. "You want to stay here and strategize while those kids die? Fine. But I won''t stand here and do nothing." Lin Seok stumbled but caught himself, fury boiling in his veins. "Jihoon, you idiot! They''re not going to kill the kids! They''re using them to draw you in!" Sunwoo''s fiery eyes glared at Lin Seok, his patience gone. "You think they care about strategy more than blood? They''re orcs! They''ll kill those kids in a heartbeat if we don''t stop them." "And you think rushing in there will save them?!" Lin Seok barked back. "Look at them, Sunwoo! They''re waiting for you to get close! You''re just feeding them your energy. That''s what they want!" Jihoon clenched his teeth, turning back toward the building. "I don''t care, Seok. I''m not standing here while those monsters hold kids hostage. You can stay here and bark orders all you want, but I''m going in." Lin Seok''s heart dropped as he saw Jihoon, Sunwoo, and several other Pillars break formation, running toward the building. He wanted to scream, to grab them and pull them back. But it was too late. His stomach twisted as he watched them sprint toward the laughing orcs, their weapons drawn, determination in their eyes. But the orcs¡­ they weren''t moving. They were standing there, smiling, watching the Pillars wear themselves down. "Stop, you fools!" Lin Seok shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation. "They''re tiring you out! They''re not going to attack the children! They''re waiting for the right moment!" He could see it now, clearer than ever. The orcs were playing a long game. They weren''t attacking. They were letting the Pillars exhaust themselves. And once the Pillars were spent, once their mana was drained and their strength waned, then the orcs would strike. "Jihoon!" Lin Seok called out, his voice raw. "Fall back! They''re playing with you! Get back here before it''s too late!" But his words fell on deaf ears. Jihoon and the others were too focused on the children. Too caught up in their righteous need to save them. Explore hidden tales at mvl Lin Seok cursed under his breath, watching in horror as the orcs'' grins widened. The air was thick with tension as the Pillars drew closer. And then, suddenly, one of the orcs¡ªa light-skinned, tanner one, bigger than the others¡ªraised his massive axe, aiming it directly at the children. "No¡­ NO!" Lin Seok screamed, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see it now¡ªthe trap was closing in. The moment the orc raised his axe, Jihoon, Sunwoo, and the other Pillars surged forward in a desperate attempt to stop him. They were too focused on saving the children, too blinded by their need to be heroes. They didn''t see the rest of the orcs move. In a blur of motion, the orcs lunged. Their massive weapons, bone clubs, and axes swung through the air with deadly precision. And before Jihoon, Sunwoo, or any of the other Pillars could react, they were caught in the onslaught. The sound of crushing bone and tearing flesh filled the air. The Pillars didn''t even have time to scream. Lin Seok stood frozen in horror as he watched his comrades¡ªhis friends¡ªbecome nothing more than meat paste beneath the orcs'' brutal assault. Blood splattered across the broken pavement, pooling beneath the feet of the laughing orcs. "NO!" Lin Seok''s voice became like a broken wail, with his body trembling with rage and disbelief. He couldn''t move. He couldn''t tear his eyes away from the carnage. His mind screamed at him to do something, to fight, but he was paralyzed by the sheer horror of what he had just witnessed. The orcs stood over the mangled bodies of the ten Pillars, laughing and grinning like beasts who had just feasted on fresh prey. Lin Seok''s heart raced, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His mind reeled, causing him not to think anything at this moment. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They had walked right into the trap, just as he had feared. And now¡­ it was too late. Chapter 133: Let me handle it Lin Seok stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, the image of the first group of Ranked Pillars¡ªnow nothing more than a mangled mess of blood and bone¡ªstill fresh in his mind.His mind couldn''t help but go spiral, consumed by the gravity of what had just happened. He had lost comrades, people he fought beside for years, in mere seconds. And now, with only fourteen left, the burden weighed heavily on him. The battlefield was eerily still for a moment, the orcs standing in the distance, as though savoring their recent victory. Their laughter echoed through the streets, mocking the Pillars and sending chills down Lin Seok''s spine. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They hadn''t just defeated the Pillars; they had annihilated them with terrifying efficiency. And then, he saw it¡ªthe orc, a hulking figure towering over the battlefield, with a child clutched in his enormous hand. The child was plump, his round face streaked with tears and snot. He was trembling in fear, his small voice barely audible as he whimpered for his mother. Lin Seok''s breath caught in his throat. "No¡­" he whispered under his breath. "They wouldn''t¡­ they wouldn''t hurt the children." The other Pillars stirred, their attention drawn to the orc as well. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with dread. One of the Pillars, a woman named Hyejin, who had been silent until now, broke the quiet. "Seok, you still think they won''t hurt the kids?" Her voice was sharp, filled with disbelief and accusation. "Look at them! They''re monsters!" Lin Seok shook his head, his hands trembling. "Orcs¡­ orcs have a code. They don''t kill children. It''s¡ª" He struggled to find the words, to hold onto the shred of hope he still had. "It''s not their way." Hyejin scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "And you''re willing to gamble the lives of innocent children on that?" "They''re using them as bait!" Lin Seok shouted, frustration bubbling up inside him. "If we rush in, we''ll end up like Jihoon and the others! Dead! They''re waiting for us to make a mistake!" Another Pillar, Minjae, slammed his fist into the wall beside him, the brick crumbling under the force of the impact. "What if you''re wrong, Seok?! What if they kill that kid right now?! Are you willing to stand here and do nothing?" Lin Seok clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He looked at the orc holding the child, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him, waiting for his decision, but doubt gnawed at his insides. What if he was wrong? What if they did kill the child? But if they rushed in¡­ "We can''t just charge in blindly!" Lin Seok barked, his voice hoarse. "That''s exactly what they want! We have to be smarter than that." Hyejin''s face twisted with anger. "Smarter? Smarter? Jihoon''s dead because of your ''smart'' tactics, Seok! How many more have to die before you realize that this isn''t a game?" Minjae stepped forward, his face red with fury. "You think you''re the only one who knows what''s going on? You think we''re idiots? We can see the trap, too! But we can''t just stand here and do nothing! What kind of Pillars are we if we let children die?!" Lin Seok opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn''t argue with that. He couldn''t ignore the fact that children''s lives were at stake, and doing nothing went against everything he believed in. But rushing in blindly¡­ "We need a plan," Lin Seok muttered, his voice cracking. "If we charge now, we''ll all¡ª" His words were cut short by a horrifying sound. Whoosh. The orc holding the child raised its arm, and before anyone could react, hurled the fat child into the air. The boy''s scream pierced the battlefield, his cry of "Mommy!" echoing as he flew helplessly through the air. His small, round body twisted in the sky, and in that split second, everything seemed to slow down. Lin Seok''s heart stopped. Squash. The child''s body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and in an instant, his small frame exploded into a cloud of blood and mist, painting the ground red. For a moment, there was only silence. The world stood still. Then chaos erupted. Hyejin screamed, her face contorted in horror. "No! No! Oh God, no!" She turned on Lin Seok, her voice dripping with venom. "You let this happen! You let that child die!" Minjae''s face twisted with rage as he pointed a shaking finger at Lin Seok. "This is your fault! You could have stopped them, but you didn''t! You let that kid die!" The remaining Pillars surrounded him, their faces full of anger, fear, and grief. "It''s on you, Seok!" someone shouted from behind him. "You let those monsters kill that kid!" Lin Seok stumbled backward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His vision blurred, and for a moment, all he could see was the blood. The blood on the ground. The blood on his hands. "I¡ª" His voice trembled. "I didn''t¡­" But they weren''t listening. They were already moving. "Go!" Hyejin shouted, her voice full of fury. "We can''t let them kill any more kids!" The fourteen remaining Pillars charged, their weapons raised, and Lin Seok could only watch in horror as they sprinted toward the orcs, rage and desperation driving them forward. Bang! Bang! Bang! Explosions rocked the battlefield as the Pillars unleashed their magic, fireballs, and lightning crackling through the air. The orcs, however, were prepared. They raised their massive weapons and use them as shields, deflecting the attacks with ease. Even as the ground shook from the force of the Pillars'' assault, the orcs stood firm, laughing. Hyejin hurled a bolt of fire at the nearest orc, but it bounced off his thick armor, barely singeing his skin. "Damn it!" she screamed, frustration and panic evident in her voice. "Why aren''t they going down?!" Continue your adventure with mvl The orcs retaliated. With a roar, one of the orcs swung his club, smashing it into the ground. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaar!!" The shockwave knocked two of the Pillars off their feet, sending them crashing into the rubble. Hyejin barely managed to stay on her feet, but the others were struggling. Lin Seok could only watch in horror as the battle raged on. The Pillars were outmatched, their attacks doing little to slow the orcs down. And the orcs knew it. They were toying with them, playing with their food before delivering the killing blow. "Stop! You''re too tired!" Lin Seok shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the chaos. It didn''t take long for the orcs to overpower them. One by one, the remaining Pillars fell, their bodies battered and broken. Only six were left standing, their energy nearly spent, and their attacks growing weaker with each passing second. Lin Seok''s heart sank as he looked at his phone. The higher-ranked Pillars were still twenty minutes away. "We need to hold out," he muttered under his breath. "We need to delay them¡ª" "We''re helpless!" Hyejin cried, her voice filled with despair. "They''re going to kill all the kids, and we can''t stop them!" Lin Seok''s chest tightened, and he felt the weight of their impending failure pressing down on him. "That leader¡­ it''s because of him!" He said as he looked at the Volk, leading the Orcs. He didn''t know what to do. His mind was a blur of panic and confusion, and nothing made sense anymore. Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos. "You just need to take out the leader, right?" Lin Seok whipped around, his eyes widening. Standing behind him was a teenager, his face calm and composed amidst the carnage. "What¡­?" Lin Seok stammered, his heart racing. "Who are you?" The teenager''s eyes gleamed with confidence as he stepped forward, his gaze locked on Volk, the orc leader. "Let me handle it." Lin Seok stared at him, disbelief and hope warring in his mind. Could this kid really make a difference? Could he stop the orcs? He had no other choice. "Go," Lin Seok whispered, his voice barely audible. He had no hope for the kid but, since he looked confident, why not let him try. After all, a lot of heroic and unexplainable things lately, and this kid was always a part of it even though he''s new. And with that, the teenager charged toward the orc leader. Chapter 134: Unknown Teenager Volk stood tall, the towering leader of the Orc horde, his bulging muscles flexing beneath his rough skin, sweat and dirt smeared across his face.His breath came out in heavy, angry puffs as his eyes scanned the battlefield. The six unknown human fighters had been giving his Orcs a surprisingly hard time. For warriors as big and brutal as the Orcs, it was almost humiliating. Still, despite the chaos, Volk knew he was close to completing his mission. He needed twenty-five kills, and these six wouldn''t be enough. There was one more. He frowned deeply as he surveyed the scene, eyes narrowing in frustration. The clash of steel against Orc shields filled the air, mingled with the grunts and roars of battle. The six humans were fast¡ªalmost unnaturally so¡ªdarting in and out of combat like blurs. Orc after Orc swung at them with massive weapons, but the humans dodged with ease, countering with sharp strikes that managed to wound some of Volk''s best warriors. Volk''s knuckles tightened around the hilt of his massive axe. With every swing, an echo of WHOOSH cut through the air, but even his own attacks seemed too slow for these wretched humans. He gritted his teeth, eyes darting between the fleeing humans and the battlefield. Each time they struck, the humans would flash in and out of view like ghosts, slipping through the tight formation of Orcs. In the midst of the battle, one of Volk''s Orcs, a particularly hefty warrior with a jagged club, took a wild swing at a human zipping past him. Find more chapters on §Þ?? THWACK! The club smashed into the concrete wall instead, sending cracks webbing out from the impact. "Too slow, too slow!" The human laughed as he sped by. The Orc growled in frustration, lifting the club again and bellowing, "You''re fast, but you''re not tough! I''ve seen blobs tougher than you!" He swung again, but the human was gone, vanished in a blur of speed before the club could connect. Volk watched this happen again and again, the humans slipping between his warriors like water. He could feel the frustration building in his chest, his jaw clenching with every failed strike. "They''re mocking us," Grashk, one of the Orcs beside Volk, muttered, his eyes filled with rage. "They think they can outlast us." "It''s just their strategy but they''re getting slow!" another Orc jeered, even as he parried a flurry of strikes from a human fighter. "They''re fast, but they don''t have the strength and endurance to finish us!" Volk raised his axe high, the muscles in his arms straining with the effort. His eyes gleamed with fury. He needed more kills. He needed twenty-five, but these slippery humans had only cost him time, and he had only managed to strike down eighteen of them so far. Volk snarled under his breath, "Should I just kill all the children? That''ll draw them out." He glanced back towards the hostages, the helpless children who were cowering in the corner of a crumbling building. They were trembling, fear etched into their faces as they huddled together. Volk''s mind raced. If the system wasn''t satisfied with these humans, he might have to resort to more drastic measures. Suddenly, one of the Orcs, bleeding from a dozen cuts, roared, "Where did they go?!" Volk''s sharp eyes scanned the battlefield, but the six humans were nowhere to be seen. He gritted his teeth, his fury bubbling over. "Cowards! Disappearing into thin air like the weaklings they are!" he growled. "I need those kills!" Once the three minutes were left, Volk would transform into his Radioactive form and destroy this city to make sure. The Orcs around him grumbled in confusion, unsure where their opponents had vanished to. There was an uneasy silence as the horde scanned their surroundings, waiting for the next attack. Volk, breathing heavily, ran his fingers through his greasy hair and then... he smiled. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A wicked, predatory grin spread across his face as an idea struck him. "Since they won''t come to me willingly, I''ll force them out!" With a swift turn, Volk marched toward the hostages. The trembling children watched in horror as the massive Orc approached them, his footsteps heavy on the broken pavement. He towered over them, his large hand reaching down to grab a plump, terrified child. The kid''s eyes were wide, tears streaming down his cheeks as Volk hoisted him into the air. The other Orcs began to cheer as Volk dangled the child before the battlefield. "Come out, come out, little humans, or I''ll devour him right here!" The boy''s screams filled the air. "M-Mommy! Daddy! Help me!" he sobbed, wriggling in Volk''s iron grip. Volk brought the child closer to his mouth, his jagged teeth glinting as he opened his jaw wide, ready to bite down. But just as he was about to sink his teeth into the boy, something shifted. There was a sudden, overwhelming WHOOSH in the air, like a thunderclap had just erupted above them. Volk froze, his senses on high alert. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the atmosphere changed. The air grew still for a moment before a powerful gust of wind rushed through the street, sending dust and debris flying in all directions. "What the¡ª?" Volk muttered, his grip on the child loosening slightly. A split second later, there was a THOOM as a figure descended from above, landing with a force that cracked the pavement. A lone teenager, his hair wild and eyes burning with an intense energy, stepped forward from the swirling dust cloud. He walked slowly towards Volk, his expression calm but his presence commanding, as though he had walked straight out of a storm. Volk''s eyes narrowed at the newcomer, his grip tightening once again on the child. The Orcs around him grunted in confusion, glancing between each other and the lone teenager. "Who the hell is this?" Grashk muttered, taking a defensive stance. The teenager said nothing as he approached, his gaze locked on Volk. There was a sharpness in his eyes, a quiet fury that simmered beneath his calm exterior. He moved with confidence, with his steps sounding deliberate and unhurried. Volk''s lips curled into a sneer as he stared down at the boy. "Another human? You think you can take the Horde on alone, boy?" The teenager continued walking, unfazed by Volk''s taunt. His hands remained at his sides, relaxed but ready. Without warning, Volk hurled the child towards the teenager with a vicious roar. "Catch him, if you can!" But the boy didn''t flinch. As the child flew through the air, the teenager blurred into action, moving faster than the eye could follow. SWOOSH¡ªin a blink, he was beneath the child, catching him gently in his arms before setting him down behind him. Volk''s sneer faltered for a brief moment as he watched the smooth, almost effortless movements of the boy. His confidence wavered, but only for a moment. "Impressive," Volk growled, his voice low and dangerous. "But you''re still just one boy." The Orcs, sensing a shift in the tension, gripped their weapons tighter. They stood ready, waiting for their Warchief''s command to attack. The teenager finally spoke, his voice steady and cold. "I''m not here to fight your horde. I''m here for you." Volk''s grin returned, wider and more savage than before. He slammed the butt of his axe into the ground, sending tremors through the earth. "For me?" Chapter 135: Draconic Graveyard Volk stared at the edgy teenager standing confidently before him, his head tilted slightly in curiosity.There was something absurd about the boy¡ªhis bravado, the way he carried himself as if he were already a legend. Volk chuckled to himself. Was this brat really the hero of this Ranker World? The main character? It was the dramatic entrance, of course. The gusts of wind, the perfect timing, the smug grin plastered across his face¡ªit was all so obvious. Volk found it almost amusing. The thought of this overconfident child being the "chosen one" of this realm made him want to laugh. With a casual tilt of his head, Volk asked, "Are you part of the Ranked Pillars?" The teenager gave a small, cocky nod, his face smug with self-assurance. "Yeah," he said, dragging out the word as though it were a burden to admit. "Just joined. Lowest of the low, though. You know, fresh meat. Only been a Pillar for a few days." Volk suppressed a smirk. Of course he''s new. He always knew the "main characters" were reckless, cocky, and loved to make grand entrances just like this. But Volk wasn''t worried. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. This boy had no idea who he was dealing with. Before Volk could retort, Lin Seok appeared behind the teenager, his face a mask of disbelief. "What do you mean by all of this?" Lin Seok demanded, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and confusion. "You just¡ªwalked in here? Do you have any idea what''s going on?" The teenager turned to him, still holding the kid he had just saved. He waved a hand dismissively, barely acknowledging Lin Seok''s concern. "Lin Seok-nim," the boy said, his voice annoyingly calm and self-assured. "Hold this kid for me, will you? I''ve got some business to handle." Lin Seok blinked, taken aback by the casual way the boy addressed him. "What? You can''t be serious¡ªhow are you planning to deal with their leader?" Without breaking a sweat, the teenager flashed a smile that could only be described as insufferable. "Don''t worry," he said, cracking his knuckles dramatically. "I''ve got it covered. Watch and learn. I''ll seperate their leader first!" Volk raised an eyebrow. The audacity of this human! The sheer nerve! He''d never encountered a human this arrogant. The Orcs behind Volk exchanged confused glances, uncertain whether to be impressed or insulted. Lin Seok, still holding the trembling child, stared at the teenager in disbelief. "Separate the leader? How are you going to pull that off?" The teenager grinned wider, stepping forward and slamming his foot into the ground with a theatrical flourish. "Like this!" he declared loudly, his voice echoing across the battlefield. Volk''s eyes narrowed as the atmosphere around them began to change. The once chaotic battlefield, littered with debris and the sounds of clashing weapons from the still attacking Ranked Pillars against his Orc horde, suddenly fell eerily silent. The ground beneath Volk''s feet shifted. The city full of buildings and highway streets morphed slowly, almost painstakingly, into something darker, more twisted. The very air seemed to thicken with an oppressive weight. "Draconic Graveyard," the teenager muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a sickening satisfaction. The surroundings transformed before Volk''s eyes. The concrete crumbled away, replaced by barren, cracked earth. The sky turned a murky gray, swirling with black clouds that seemed to move unnaturally fast. Bones¡ªcountless, broken bones¡ªlittered the landscape, poking up from the ground like grotesque monuments to death. Massive dragon skulls lay scattered across the barren land, their empty eye sockets staring out into the endless wasteland. In the distance, an ominous, decaying moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale, sickly glow over everything. The stench of rot and decay filled Volk''s nostrils, sharp and overwhelming. It was a bleak, desolate place. A world of death. Volk''s grip on his axe tightened as he surveyed the transformation. He couldn''t deny it¡ªit was impressive. He hadn''t expected a human to wield such power, much less someone as young and cocky as this brat. But still, the grin never left his face. Did this kid really think trapping him in some over-the-top, death-riddled dimension would make a difference? Volk was excited, he would transform into Radioactive form and finish this brat off and then complete the mission! The teenager, clearly pleased with himself, turned to Volk with that same irritating smirk. "Apologies," he said, his tone dripping with false humility. "My power''s still a bit... limited. I can''t bring your whole horde in here, just you. I''ll deal with the others later." Volk laughed, the sound deep and rumbling. He shook his head in amusement. "So, you think locking me away in this gloomy little domain of yours is going to change anything?" He took a step forward, his boots crunching over the brittle bones beneath him. "Do you really believe that outside, without me, your fellow humans are any safer? Aren''t you a little arrogant too for taking me on alone?" The teenager waved him off with a casual flick of his wrist. "Oh, don''t worry about them. They''ve got... company." He glanced back toward the entrance of the dimension, his grin growing wider. Back in the real world, the battlefield was eerily quiet. The moment Volk disappeared into the Draconic Graveyard, the Orc horde froze, momentarily confused by the sudden absence of their Warchief. But before they could react, the ground began to rumble beneath their feet. Glowing, violet circles appeared on the ground around the Orcs, slowly expanding as arcane symbols spread outward. Suddenly, bony hands thrust up from the earth. Skeleton knights, clad in cracked, rusted armor, emerged from the glowing circles, their hollow eyes glowing with an eerie light. They held jagged swords, their bony limbs rattling as they moved forward. Grashk, one of the larger Orcs, snorted in disgust. "What is this?!" he roared, raising his club to smash one of the skeletons. "More of your pathetic tricks, humans?!" He swung his weapon down with a mighty CRASH, but the skeleton barely flinched. The undead knight stepped forward, unfazed, and slashed at Grashk''s arm with its jagged blade. Continue reading stories on §Þ?? The Orc howled in pain as the rusted weapon sliced through his flesh despite being strong. The other Orcs soon found themselves surrounded by the skeletal warriors. They roared in defiance, swinging their clubs and axes with all their might, but the undead knights were relentless. They moved as if they felt no pain, no fear¡ªjust a mindless, unstoppable force. Back in the Draconic Graveyard, Volk could sense the chaos unfolding in the real world. His horde was fighting something, but he couldn''t see what it was. He grinned, still unshaken. "Even without me," he growled, "my warriors will crush whatever pathetic plan had comjured. Your tricks won''t last." The teenager, still wearing that same smug grin, crossed his arms over his chest. "We''ll see about that, won''t we?" Volk raised his axe, his eyes blazing with fury. The bones beneath his feet crunched and snapped as he moved forward, his massive frame towering over the teenager. "I''ll enjoy stomping on your corpse," Volk snarled, his voice filled with malice. The teenager didn''t flinch. If anything, his grin widened. "Try me." A battle was about to begin, between main character and another main character? Chapter 136: Dead arise Volk sneered, his massive frame towering over the eerie, desolate landscape of the Draconic Graveyard.The bones crunched under his heavy boots as he sized up the edgy teenager who stood across from him. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The kid was all cockiness, his smirk and casual stance clearly meant to provoke. Without a word, Volk kicked up a massive bone from the ground, launching it through the air toward the brat. He grinned wickedly as the bone flew, using its trajectory to hide his own movement as he charged forward behind it, axe in hand, ready to strike. The bone whizzed through the air. Swoosh! The teenager barely moved, his grin widening as he sidestepped the attack with ease. Volk''s eyes widened, but before he could adjust his approach, the teenager mumbled something under his breath. "Dead Exchange." Volk furrowed his brow. What the hell does that mean? But he had no time to think. He swung his massive axe down with a resounding BANG! The axe connected, but instead of meeting flesh, it cleaved through a skeleton warrior that appeared in the brat''s place. The brittle bones shattered under the force of Volk''s blow, the skeleton crumbling into dust. Volk''s eyes flickered in confusion for a brief moment, before a voice rang out behind him. "You really thought I wouldn''t see that coming, huh?" the teenager''s voice taunted, dripping with smug satisfaction. Volk growled and spun around, his eyes scanning the barren landscape. Shadows crept along the ground, moving slowly and ominously toward him. The skeletal shapes emerged from the cracked earth, their movements deliberate, each bony limb rattling with an eerie sound. The teenager''s voice echoed from different directions, as if toying with him. "I get it, you Orcs are all the same. You tried to throw the kid earlier to make me drop my guard, make me think you''re all brute force and no brains. But no... I know what you''re doing." The skeleton warriors continued to rise, their hollow eyes glowing with an unnatural light as they surrounded Volk. "You''re trying to bait me again, using the same tricks." Volk said nothing, just casually spun his axe in his hands, rolling it between his palms with a grim smile. He wasn''t interested in banter; he just wanted to cut this annoying brat down. The sound of the teenager''s voice irritated him, and he clenched his jaw as he shifted his stance, ready for the next attack. The boy was hiding among the skeletons, but Volk wasn''t fooled. He had no interest in playing this game. As soon as the brat spoke again, Volk bolted in the direction of the voice, his speed astonishing for someone of his size. He crashed through the skeletal warriors, his axe swinging with deadly precision. SLAM! His axe connected with another skeleton, shattering it into pieces. But as soon as he did, another voice rang out from a different direction. "Oops, wrong again, Orc! You''re too slow." Volk''s frustration boiled over, but he didn''t let it show. He adjusted his grip on the axe, his movements more controlled now. The next time the boy spoke, Volk barely waited a second before he charged again, his powerful legs propelling him forward with lightning speed. This time, he aimed straight for the source of the voice. KABAM! The axe struck true, and this time, it was a skeleton again. "Haha!" The teenager said among the injured skeleton soldiers and then mumbled, "You won''t catch me!" Yet, because of his voice, Volk would know where he is and instantly reappear behind him and then, immediately, blood splattered and sprayed across the cracked earth. Kaschack! The teenager coughed up blood, his once-smug grin faltering as he gasped for breath. Volk grinned, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he pulled the axe out and prepared to strike again. But before the axe could hit, the teenager''s body crumbled, turning into yet another skeleton. Volk cursed under his breath, with his eyes narrowing sharply. This was getting tiresome. "You injured me, I''ll give you that," the teenager''s voice echoed again, now from a distance. "But don''t worry, I can heal. It''s just a scratch." Volk snarled, wiping the blood from his axe as he surveyed the battlefield. He was done with this game. He could feel the teenager''s presence, and it was starting to irritate him that the boy was toying with him like this. He began moving methodically, crushing skeleton after skeleton, each swing of his axe followed by the cracking of bones. Suddenly, one of the skeletal soldiers knelt down before Volk, its hollow eyes glowing dimly as if it had something to say. Although Volk''s patience was wearing thin. He rested his axe on his shoulder, glaring down at the skeleton, and only now he would speak. "What is it now, kid? What stupid trick do you have up your sleeve this time?" Volk paced back and forth before the kneeling skeleton soldiers, his boots crunching over the bones scattered across the barren landscape. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he toyed with his massive axe, and its blade gleaming ominously. He stopped, resting the axe on his shoulder as he addressed the soldiers. "This here," Volk said, holding up the weapon for them to see, "is the Axe of Dissection." His voice was low and menacing, filled with pride. "It''s no ordinary weapon. Any wound it creates, no matter how small, turns into a river of blood. Every cut, every strike, drains the life out of its victim faster than they can heal. It''s not just a tool of war¡ªit''s a weapon of fear." He eyed the kneeling skeleton soldier, the one who had been coughing up blood onto the cracked earth. Discover hidden tales at §Þ?? The pool of crimson beneath the figure was steadily growing, soaking into the dry ground. "I could walk away right now," Volk continued, "and you''d still die. Slowly, painfully. You''re already bleeding out, after all." He paused, watching as the kneeling soldier struggled to catch its breath, blood still dripping from its bony frame. Volk relished in the sight for a moment, enjoying the power he wielded over this strange opponent. The skeleton soldier''s struggles were pathetic in comparison to the might of the Axe of Dissection. "But," Volk said, his voice shifting into something colder, more impatient, "I don''t have time for that." Without warning, he moved. Kabam! Volk swung his axe with terrifying speed, the air crackling as the weapon cut through it. In an instant, he teleported behind the kneeling skeleton soldier, aiming to cleave the pitiful figure in half. He grinned as the axe came down, expecting to see it strike the brittle bones, splintering them apart. But then, something happened. "Death Arise!" the teenager''s voice in the kneeling skeleton soldier whispered, its voice barely audible, but filled with an unearthly power. Volk''s axe, mid-swing, came to a sudden halt, as if hitting an invisible wall. He blinked in surprise, his grip tightening on the hilt. What was this? How could a simple skeleton soldier stop his attack? Before Volk could react, a dark shadow began to form around the kneeling figure. The bones cracked and shifted, melding together with the surrounding air until something entirely different emerged¡ªa warrior clad in blackened armor, its form fully encased from head to toe. Unlike the skeletons, whose armor was crude and incomplete, this new figure radiated an aura of supremacy. The armored warrior stood tall, its helmeted head turning to meet Volk''s gaze. The eerie glow of its eyes, hidden behind the visor, sent a chill down Volk''s spine. This was no ordinary soldier. With a swift, precise motion, the armored warrior raised its sword and parried Volk''s axe, deflecting the deadly blow as if it were nothing. The force of the parry sent Volk''s weapon off course, and the Axe of Dissection slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash, embedding itself in the cracked earth. Volk staggered back, eyes wide with shock. ''Plot armor?'' Chapter 137: Song Wooji Song Woo-Ji staggered, his breaths shallow and labored.His lungs burned, each gasp scraping through his throat like sandpaper. Blood dripped steadily from the gaping wounds along his back, pooling around his boots, staining the rocky floor of his Draconic Graveyard domain. He could feel the warm, sticky flow intensifying with every second. The pain was relentless, wrapping around him like iron chains. His legs trembled, but he forced himself to stand, the weight of exhaustion pressing down like a heavy cloak. He hadn''t expected this¡ªbeing pushed to the brink so quickly, so mercilessly. Experience exclusive tales on §Þ?? Before him, the Orc horde leader, was a whirlwind of violence. Each swing of the massive war axe in his hand was followed by a sickening crunch. Thwack! The sound of metal slicing through bone echoed through the battlefield as one of Song Woo-Ji''s undead pawns was cleaved in half. A mere second later, another was kicked aside, its rotting body crashing into the jagged rocks with a wet thud. They were supposed to be strong, these undead warriors. Powerful. Song Woo-Ji''s fingers clenched into fists, blood mixing with dirt and sweat. He had fought hard to capture them, to turn them into his subordinates. He could still remember the dungeons where he had defeated them¡ªeach battle a grueling struggle that had pushed him to his limits. The first was the Mountain Giant, Gorr. Song Woo-Ji had barely survived the encounter. Gorr''s lair had been deep within the Fire Fang Mountains, its craggy peaks spewing smoke and ash. Gorr had been a colossus of stone and muscle, his fists large enough to crush boulders. Every blow from the giant had felt like a mountain collapsing on Song Woo-Ji. He had dodged, ducked, rolled¡ªbarely able to land a single hit. His sword had shattered against Gorr''s skin, and for a moment, it had seemed like defeat was inevitable. But then, Song Woo-Ji had found a way¡ªstriking a weak spot hidden beneath the giant''s left arm. It had taken everything he had to bring the behemoth down, and even more to bind him to his will. Then there was Daelum, the Death Knight. A fearsome warrior, clad in spectral armor, his sword a blackened shard of pure malice. Song Woo-Ji had stumbled upon him in the ancient ruins of Zorn. The air there had been thick with decay, the stones underfoot whispering of forgotten wars and ancient curses. Daelum had been relentless, his blade carving through the darkness, seeking to end Song Woo-Ji''s life with every swing. The battle had been a dance of death, each of them trading blow for blow, parry for parry. When Song Woo-Ji had finally felled him, binding his soul to his necromantic powers, it had felt like conquering death itself. And lastly, there was Sorva, the Fallen Mage. Sorva had been a master of arcane arts, her lair a twisting labyrinth of illusion and magic deep beneath the Scarlet Crags. Song Woo-Ji had spent days wandering through her domain, fending off her traps and ambushes, his mind stretched to its limits by the constant barrage of sorcery. Sorva had appeared before him in the form of a wraith, her body flickering between reality and the void. Their battle had been one of endurance, Song Woo-Ji using every ounce of his will to break through her magical defenses. When he finally brought her down, her essence had become another weapon in his arsenal. And yet, now¡ªnow, all of them were being slaughtered by the Orc horde leader he had trapped in his domain. The Orc horde leader was cutting through them like they were nothing more than fodder, their once formidable strength utterly useless against his brute power. Smash! Another undead pawn crumbled under Orc horde leader''s attack, its skull caving in like a fragile eggshell. Song Woo-Ji stared at the carnage, disbelief tightening around his throat. How? How could this be happening? These undead had faced the most grueling battles, overcome impossible odds, yet here they were, helpless before this monstrous orc. The realization gnawed at his head like a pin needle, it tasted bitter and unforgiving. The Orc horde leader was a tower of muscle and rage, and he could feel like his every movement were calculated, every strike was devastating and destructive. His crimson eyes glowed with an unquenchable thirst for blood. Song Woo-Ji''s chest tightened as the Orc horde Leader''s gaze fell on him, the orc''s mouth curling into a feral grin. The undead may have been a nuisance, but Song Woo-Ji? He was Volk''s true prey. Volk roared, the sound reverberating across the battlefield like a thunderclap from the raging sky. "IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE, LITTLE HUMAN?!" His voice boomed, shaking the very ground. "YOUR PAWNS ARE NOTHING!" Song Woo-Ji''s heart pounded in his chest. His hands, slick with blood, clenched tighter around the hilt of his sword. The air crackled with tension as Volk charged, his enormous frame barreling through the field like a runaway beast. Song Woo-Ji''s mind raced, trying to calculate his next move, but the pain, the exhaustion¡ªit was all too much. Suddenly, Volk disappeared¡ªswoosh!¡ªvanishing from sight. For a split second, everything went silent. Song Woo-Ji''s eyes widened. Where had he gone? Then, just as quickly, Volk reappeared behind him. Whoosh! The air shifted, the scent of blood thick in the atmosphere. "SURRENDER YOUR LIFE, LITTLE HUMAN!" V olk''s voice was like a crashing wave, his presence overwhelming. Song Woo-Ji could feel the ground tremble beneath his feet. But before Volk could land a killing blow, something shifted in the air. A dark, oppressive energy seeped from Song Woo-Ji''s body, spreading outward like a thick mist. The temperature dropped, the smell of death flooding the area. Time seemed to slow, the world turning grey as the energy wrapped itself around Song Woo-Ji, forming a swirling vortex of bones and shadows. Crack! The bones twisted and merged, forming armor that clung to Song Woo-Ji''s body like a second skin. His right hand clenched, and a spear materialized¡ªcrafted from countless bones, spinning like a drill, its edges sharp enough to tear through steel. The transformation was complete in an instant. Song Woo-Ji''s eyes gleamed from within the bone helmet, the glow of deathly power pulsating through him. His voice, cold and detached, echoed across the battlefield. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Executor Mode: Drill Breaker." Volk paused, eyes narrowing as he stared at the human before him. Something was wrong. This piercing power¡ªit was unlike anything he had ever faced. He took a step back hoping to evade the attack, but it was already too late. Vvvvrrrr! The spear spun faster, the sound of the drill piercing the air like a shriek. Without warning, Song Woo-Ji lunged, the bone spear driving forward with terrifying speed. Volk swung his axe, trying to block the attack, but the spear shattered through it¡ªcrack!¡ªsending shards of metal flying. Song Woo-Ji didn''t stop. His movements were fluid, precise, and unrelenting. Thud! Thud! Thud! The spear drilled into Volk''s massive body, each impact punctuated by the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. Blood sprayed from Volk''s wounds, the bone drill carving through his flesh with ease. Each strike drilled deeper, faster, ripping through muscle, bone, and sinew. Volk roared in agony, his body convulsing as he tried to fight back, but the assault was relentless. From every angle, the spear struck, drilling holes into Volk''s arms, legs, chest¡ªeverywhere. His body was riddled with gaping wounds, each one large enough to see straight through to the other side. Blood poured from him like a river, his once mighty form reduced to a mass of torn flesh and broken bones. Splurt! A final thrust of the spear drilled through Volk''s chest, and the Orc horde leader fell to his knees, and his strength was gone in that moment. He looked down at the countless holes in his body, disbelief and pain etched across his face. Song Woo-Ji stood over him, the spear in his hand still spinning, its tip drenched in blood. He didn''t say a word. He didn''t need to. The battle was over. Volk''s body slumped forward, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. The sound echoed across the enclosed battlefield, like a grim reminder of the brutal fight that had just taken place. Song Woo-Ji looked down at his fallen opponent, his breathing ragged, but his resolve unshaken. The bone armor around him slowly dissipated, crumbling into dust, leaving him standing alone amidst the carnage. The orc horde Leader was no more. Chapter 138: Another system user Song Woo-Ji stood amidst the battlefield, the last remnants of his Draconic Graveyard domain still flickering in the air.The bone spear in his hand slowly crumbled, falling into dust as his body returned to its normal state. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He exhaled, a long, weary sigh escaping his lips. "H-a-a-a-a-a-a¡­" The battle had drained him¡ªmore than he was willing to admit. His eyes flicked to the fallen body of orc, now lying motionless on the blood-soaked ground. The Orc leader was a formidable opponent, far stronger than any he had faced before. But it wasn''t just the battle that weighed heavily on him¡ªit was the transformation. The Death Knight form. Song Woo-Ji raised a trembling hand, touching his chest where the bone armor had once clung. He could still feel the residual energy, dark and corrosive, gnawing at the edges of his soul. It was power, yes. But it came at a price. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before calling out, "System. Report." The air around him shimmered, and a soft, metallic voice filled his mind. [[ Yes, Master Song Woo-Ji. [[ Executor Mode: Drill Breaker has been successfully executed. However, your current soul integrity has been compromised by 20%. [[ Continued use of the Death Knight form in this state may result in irreversible damage. ]] Song Woo-Ji grimaced. He knew it had been dangerous. The power of the Death Knight was immense, but every time he used it, he felt a piece of himself slipping away. It was like inviting a part of death itself to live within him. "Fortunately, I managed to use it one last time..." His voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "But I can''t keep relying on it. Not like this. If I use that form too often, it''ll corrupt my soul." The system hummed in agreement. [[ Affirmative. [[ Sustained use will accelerate soul degradation. It is advised to minimize usage, Master. ]] Song Woo-Ji''s jaw tightened. He had no choice today¡ªThe Orc horde Leader would have killed him without the Death Knight form. But it left him vulnerable now, with barely enough energy to maintain his grip on his necromantic powers. "What''s happening outside?" he asked, turning his gaze toward the edges of the domain where reality began to distort and fray. "How long until the Draconic Domain collapses?" The system responded promptly. [[ The Draconic Domain will dissipate in approximately a few minutes. [[ External factors indicate ongoing conflict between human forces and the remaining Orc horde. [[ Orc reinforcements have been delayed due to the incapacitation of their leader. ]] Suddenly, from behind Song Woo-Ji, a small skeleton emerged. It hopped onto his shoulder, a bony creature no bigger than a child''s hand. Its hollow eyes gleamed with mischief as it tilted its head and spoke in a raspy voice. "No, Master, the situation outside is still terrible. The humans and the Orc horde are locked in a fierce battle. But luckily for you, taking the Orc leader hostage has kept things from getting worse." The little skeleton chuckled. "They''re panicking without their leader. But don''t worry. Reinforcements should arrive soon. By the time they get here, you can slip out and get some rest." Song Woo-Ji frowned, rubbing his temples. "Tch. And here I was hoping to avoid any more of this mess." His exhaustion weighed heavily, and the mention of reinforcements meant he had little time left. Just as Song Woo-Ji was about to speak, a faint twitch caught his eye. His gaze shot to Volk''s corpse lying at his feet. The massive orc''s body shuddered, muscles rippling beneath the torn flesh. A faint movement¡ªthe slightest flicker of life. Song Woo-Ji''s heart skipped a beat. Volk''s eyelids fluttered, just for a moment, but then they snapped shut again, as if he had decided to play dead. The Orc leader was far from finished. The little skeleton on his shoulder leaned forward, peering at Volk. "Hey, master," it said with a low hiss, "want me to reanimate this one? He''s strong. Could be useful as another undead pawn." Song Woo-Ji shook his head, feeling the last dredge of his energy slipping away. "No. I don''t have enough much mana left. Not after using the Death Knight form." The skeleton let out a disappointed sigh. "Shame. This Orc''s got some real power. Stronger than the others we''ve faced." Song Woo-Ji''s brow furrowed. "Other Orcs¡­" He cast his mind back to the dungeons he had raided before this one. There had been many. One Orc after another, each stronger than the last, each a deadly threat in their own right. There was Krul, the Bone Crusher, from the Frostbone Peaks. Song Woo-Ji had battled him in a frozen wasteland, every step a struggle against both the Orc and the biting cold. Krul had wielded a massive hammer, each swing capable of shattering the frozen ground beneath their feet. It had taken every ounce of Song Woo-Ji''s cunning to bring him down, using the ice itself to trap and break the monster. Then there was Durk, the Flame Warden, from the Ember Crag. That dungeon had been a furnace of heat and fire, with lava flowing like rivers through the narrow paths. Durk had commanded the flames themselves, wielding them like weapons. Song Woo-Ji had barely escaped with his life, using his undead to shield him from the burning onslaught. And who could forget Magra, the Shadow Skulker? She had been a cunning adversary, lurking in the dark recesses of the Black Hollow. Magra had moved like a phantom, slipping between the shadows, striking when least expected. Song Woo-Ji had nearly been overwhelmed in that labyrinthine dungeon, but his necromancy had saved him, turning the very shadows she controlled against her. The fourth, Thrag, the Ironclad, was the toughest of them all. Deep within the Ironstone Depths, Thrag had stood like a living fortress, his body covered in thick, impenetrable armor. No weapon had been able to pierce his defenses. It was only through careful strategy¡ªusing his own environment against him¡ªthat Song Woo-Ji had managed to exploit a weakness, bringing the massive Orc crashing down. As Song Woo-Ji recalled each of these battles, his eyes fell once more on Volk. "This one''s different," he muttered. "Stronger than the others. Maybe because he''s a C-class Orc horde leader. The meanest, the strongest of them all." He glanced at the little skeleton. Discover more stories at M V L "We''ll have to expect stronger monsters like this in the future. The gates are only going to get worse." The little skeleton tapped its bony fingers together thoughtfully. "Maybe. But for now, you''re alive. That counts for something, right?" Song Woo-Ji grunted, his body heavy with fatigue. "For now." He could feel the strain pulling at him, the edge of exhaustion too sharp to ignore. The battles were getting tougher. The gates were opening more frequently. And the enemies coming through them¡­ well, if Volk was any indication, they were only going to get worse. After a few moments of silence, Song Woo-Ji exhaled deeply. "System, turn off." The air grew still for a moment, but before Song Woo-Ji could relax, something stirred beneath him. His instincts flared, eyes darting to the ground where Volk lay. But was missing. Thud. Suddenly, a massive green hand shot up from the corpse was supposed to be, gripping Song Woo-Ji''s ankle with terrifying force. His eyes widened in shock as the ground seemed to quake beneath him. The grip tightened, the rough, calloused skin of the Orc''s hand digging into his flesh like iron shackles. The little skeleton let out a high-pitched yelp, scrambling to stay perched on Song Woo-Ji''s shoulder. "Master, look out!" But before Song Woo-Ji could react, his vision blurred as the massive hand yanked him downward. Chapter 139: Crushed Sung Woo-Ji barely had time to register what was happening before Volk''s twisted form emerged from the ground, his facial features distorted in unnatural ways.The Orc leader''s eyes gleamed with a sinister light, and his lips twisted into a grotesque smile. "Interesting... a system," Volk muttered, his voice dripping with malice. Before Sung Woo-Ji could even react, the grip around his ankle tightened, the massive green hand holding him in place. But then it grew. The hand expanded, grotesquely swelling in size until it was no longer just gripping his leg. Half of Sung Woo-Ji''s body was now encased in the Orc''s oversized hand, the pressure mounting with each passing second. Volk''s grin widened. His voice thundered with malevolent glee. "I''LL CRUSH YOU!" Sung Woo-Ji gasped, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him as Volk''s hand tightened, the air squeezed from his lungs. It was as though the very life was being wrung from his body. His bones creaked under the strain, and a sharp pain shot through his ribs. But before the hand could crush him entirely, something shifted. CRACK! Bone ribs¡ªsharp, jagged, and eerily familiar¡ªsuddenly encased Sung Woo-Ji, springing from his own body like a second skin. They wrapped around him in a protective cocoon, halting Volk''s crushing grip for a moment. The Orc leader paused, his eyes narrowing at the unexpected resistance. Then, his twisted grin returned. "BONY MAIN CHARACTER, I''LL CRUSH!" Volk roared, his voice shaking the earth beneath them. With a deafening crack, Volk''s fingers tightened once more, his immense strength overwhelming the protective bones. The ribs began to crumble, shattering piece by piece under the immense pressure. Sung Woo-Ji could feel them breaking, the defensive layer splintering like brittle wood. And then, with a final crunch, the bone barrier disintegrated entirely, leaving him exposed. Volk''s hand gripped tighter. The pain was unbearable now, searing through Sung Woo-Ji''s body like fire. His chest heaved, trying desperately to pull in air, but the crushing force made it impossible. His vision blurred at the edges, the world around him seemed to darken. The sensation of hopelessness gnawed at his mind. It was happening too fast¡ªeverything was happening too fast. His thoughts raced, yet they couldn''t catch up with the terror unfolding around him. He felt the fear crawling up his spine, spreading like ice through his veins. Was this terror? He had faced death before, but this... this was different. This was overwhelming, a force too great to resist. Should he give up now? Was there any point in fighting anymore? For a brief moment, his mind wandered back to who he once was. He remembered the days when he was nothing more than an E-rank hunter, the weakest of them all. Back then, he wasn''t even considered a hunter by most standards. He was just a boy trying to survive, trying to provide for his sick mother. Those days were filled with endless struggle¡ªdays spent scavenging, barely scraping by in the underbelly of the hunting world. He had been so weak. So helpless. He had signed up for low-level dungeons, not because he believed he could contribute, but because he needed the money to pay for his mother''s medicine. Every time he faced a monster, his hands would tremble. His heart would pound so loudly in his chest that it drowned out every other sound. He wasn''t like the other hunters¡ªthose confident warriors who seemed born to fight. He was just a scared kid, fumbling with a rusty sword. And then, there was that day. The day he almost died. It was supposed to be a low-risk dungeon, but instead, he found himself in the heart of a dragon''s tomb. The air had been thick with ancient magic, and he had stumbled upon something he shouldn''t have¡ªa trap left by the dragon that nearly killed him. But instead of death, something else happened. Something impossible. He had survived, barely, and when he awoke, the System was there. It spoke to him, offering him power, offering him a way to escape his fate. From that moment, everything changed. He completed quests, defeated monsters, and grew stronger. He learned how to use the System, mastering the art of necromancy, turning his fallen enemies into undead servants. His rise was swift, but not without hardship. The struggle never ended. He fought through dungeons, through endless waves of monsters, each one more powerful than the last. He remembered the raid on Jedunzo Island¡ªa turning point in his life. There, he had faced an entire horde of creatures, leading a team of hunters and showcasing his newfound abilities. His command over death had made him a force to be reckoned with. That raid had earned him respect. It had lifted him from the bottom of the ranks, propelling him to the status of an elite C-ranker. He had clawed his way up, fighting tooth and nail for every bit of power he now possessed. But now, as the Orc horde Leader''s hand squeezed tighter, he wondered: Was it all for nothing? Is this terror? Is this the end? Should he give up now? The crushing pressure intensified, and Sung Woo-Ji''s thoughts became hazy. He could barely think. The pain was too much. But deep inside, something stirred. A flicker of anger. Of defiance. "No..." Sung Woo-Ji''s voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed in his mind, louder than the roar of Volk''s rage. "No, I won''t give up now." Yes, why would he give up! He understood now. Even with a system in his hands, he must do everything to win. Son Woo-Ji accepted to himself that he became arrogant! He is not the strongest of them all yet, so why should be arrogant! "Noooo!" He said with anger. The words repeated in his head, growing stronger, more forceful. He had come too far, fought too hard, survived too many impossible battles to die here. He wasn''t the weak E-rank hunter anymore. He wasn''t the scared boy who cowered in the face of danger. He was Sung Woo-Ji, a necromancer, a warrior who had faced death and come back stronger every time. He clenched his fists, his body trembling with both pain and newfound determination. But as the anger and resolve surged within him, Volk''s grip only tightened further, squeezing him with inhuman strength. The pain was unbearable, his bones creaking under the pressure, threatening to snap. Yet, he swore. Song Woo-Ji swore in his head that he will make this Orc horde Leader one his undead army! YEEES!! However, as he thought of this. Crack! Sung Woo-Ji gasped, feeling his ribs shift unnaturally. The air was squeezed from his lungs, and his vision began to blur again. His resolve faltered for just a moment as the reality of the situation set in. He was powerless. He had no more tricks, no more magic. His mana reserves were depleted. The Death Knight form had already drained him of everything. And now, Volk was crushing him. It was over. Explore more stories with M V L The grip tightened one last time, and Sung Woo-Ji''s body buckled under the pressure. His mind went blank. No thoughts, no emotions¡ªjust the cold, crushing sensation of death wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud. In the final moment, everything faded to black. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Kabam! Chapter 140: Vessel of Death Monarch Volk''s massive, twisted form stood over the battlefield, his mutated features contorted into a mask of grim satisfaction.The air around him crackled with radioactive energy, the very ground beneath his feet scorched and withered. His glowing eyes surveyed the scene, lingering on the crumbled remnants of the Ranker World''s finest hunters. Broken bodies lay strewn across the field, and a thick miasma of death clung to the bones and dust that filled the Draconic Graveyard domain. He could still feel the weight of Sung Woo-Ji''s crushed form in his hand. The limp body of the once-feared Ranker dangled from his oversized fist, unmoving, broken, lifeless. Volk''s mind didn''t linger on the significance of his kill. To him, it didn''t matter that this human was one of the pillars of the Ranker World. What mattered was that he had completed his mission. He wasn''t interested in the intricacies of systems or the power they offered. The only thing that drove him was the mission. He looked down at Sung Woo-Ji''s crumpled body, still gripped in his massive palm, and his lips twisted into a frown. For a moment, something flickered in his mind¡ªa brief curiosity about the system Sung Woo-Ji possessed. But Volk shrugged it off. The intricacies of a system didn''t concern him. His mission was simple: kill the ranked hunters. Nothing more, nothing less. Then came the familiar chime in his ear. || Ding! A notification flashed before Volk''s eyes: sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. | Mission: Murder all the Ranked Pillars within an hour. | Ranked Pillars: 25/25. | Reward: Travel to Orzaroth. | Failure: The host will no longer be able to use Nuclear Devastation attacks in Grum-Gar form. | Mission Status: Completed. | Volk''s lips stretched into a cruel smile. His task was finished. The reward, long promised, was finally his. The thought of the magical world of Orzaroth filled his mind with anticipation. He''s now ready to go, a realm where Solluha''r was in, and now it was his to claim. "VOOOLK FEEEEELS GOOD!" he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the air, shaking the bones scattered across the ground. His enormous, ogre-like form pulsed with radioactive energy, casting a sickly green glow over the entire battlefield. But as Volk reveled in his victory, another chime rang out, and a new notification appeared in front of his eyes. || Ding! | New Mission Issued. | Mission: Murder the vessel of the Death Monarch with a time frame. | Time frame: 20 minutes. | Reward: Travel to Orzaroth with the Horde. | Failure: The host will travel alone, and the Horde will perish. | Volk''s brow furrowed as he read the new mission. His initial triumph faded as a wave of frustration washed over him. "Another mission? Twenty minutes" he grumbled, his voice low and guttural. He looked around, his eyes scanning the battlefield with renewed suspicion. The vessel of the Death Monarch? His gaze shifted to the bones and dead air that permeated the domain, an unsettling aura of death still clinging to the space around him. Something was wrong. The ranker in his hand, the so-called Death Monarch, should have been dead, and yet the system implied he wasn''t. The gnawing feeling in Volk''s gut grew, and he slowly turned his gaze back to his own hand. There, in his massive palm, the human''s body still hung limp, but Volk''s instincts kicked in. He growled, his eyes narrowing. Without hesitation, Volk slammed Sung Woo-Ji''s body into the ground with all the force he could muster. WHAM! The impact sent a cloud of dust and shattered bone fragments into the air, the ground beneath them trembling. Volk''s massive fist followed, pounding into the earth over and over again, each strike shaking the battlefield with violent, earth-shattering blows. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! "GRAAAAAAAHHH!" Volk''s roar echoed across the field as he brought his fists down, again and again, each punch more brutal than the last. He was determined to crush every last shred of life from the human. His rage exploded with every strike, his massive form looming over the battered remains of Sung Woo-Ji. He pulled his fist back for another punch and paused, his breath heavy and ragged. The ground was a crater beneath him, and Sung Woo-Ji''s body was little more than a bloodied mess. But Volk''s brow furrowed once again. Something still felt off. The eerie silence that followed each blow gnawed at him, an unsettling feeling he couldn''t shake. He leaned down, his massive radioactive form casting a grotesque shadow over the battered corpse, his eyes narrowing as he studied it closely. Was it truly dead? Was this the end of the so-called Death Monarch? He needed to be sure. The system''s mission weighed heavily on his mind¡ªfailure would cost him his entire horde, and he couldn''t afford that, or could he? His pride couldn''t. Volk grunted and raised his fist once more. THUD! THUD! THUD! The punches rained down, relentless, savage. Dust and debris exploded around him as the ground caved under the force of his blows. Each strike sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. But no matter how many times he struck, the feeling remained. The sense that something wasn''t right. Panting, Volk finally stopped. Read new chapters at M V L He stood up to his full height, his massive chest heaving with exertion. His glowing eyes fixed on the crumpled, lifeless form of Sung Woo-Ji. The human had been reduced to a broken, bloodied mess, barely recognizable as a body anymore. Volk snorted, wiping a thick, green droplet of saliva from the corner of his mouth. He knelt down once more, leaning in close to the remains, sniffing the air around them. His massive nostrils flared, searching for any sign of life. He had to be sure. Nothing. No heartbeat. No breath. Just death. Finally, Volk straightened, a satisfied grin creeping across his face. The Death Monarch, the vessel of whatever strange power this human possessed, was no more. He could feel it. There was nothing left. He''d crushed him, obliterated him, left no room for even a flicker of life to remain. Volk threw his head back and let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "HEH!" he snorted, the sound echoing through the ruined domain. "NO MORE BONES. NO MORE SYSTEM!" He stepped back, the twisted grin still on his face, his gigantic radioactive form casting an ominous shadow over the battlefield. He had done it. He had completed his mission, and the next step was clear. Orzaroth awaited him, and with his horde at his side, there was nothing in this world¡ªor the next¡ªthat could stand in his way. For now, the Death Monarch was dead. And Volk, in all his radioactive, monstrous glory, had claimed his victory. "HEH!" he snorted once more, turning his back on the crumpled remains. Chapter 141: Bone Dragon vs Volk Volk''s eyes flicked upward, squinting as the sky above him shimmered with a strange, otherworldly light.Three suns hung in the heavens, their rays casting an eerie glow across the landscape. The realization hit his head like a tidal wave: he was still inside the Draconic Graveyard, the dimension that Sung Woo-Ji had controlled. "HUH?" Volk grunted, his massive radioactive form heaving as his frustration grew. He had killed the human¡ªhadn''t he?¡ªbut still, the domain remained intact. That meant only one thing: the fight wasn''t over. Something more was coming. The hair on the back of his neck bristled, and for the first time, unease slithered into Volk''s mind. Suddenly, the bones scattered around the battlefield began to tremble. At first, it was barely noticeable, just a faint rattle, like the soft tapping of fingernails against stone. But then the sound grew louder. A deep, hollow clack echoed through the air, followed by the ominous scraping of bone against bone. Volk turned, his glowing eyes narrowing as he watched in disbelief. The bones that had once littered the ground were now moving¡ªdragging themselves together with an unnatural, jerking motion. Skeletal fragments fused, twisting into monstrous shapes, forming a spine that coiled upward into the air. The bones gathered in a whirlwind of dust and death, snapping into place with a chilling precision. The ground trembled as the monstrous form took shape, towering over Volk''s massive frame. The air grew thick, heavy with a suffocating presence. It felt as if the very essence of death was seeping into every corner of the domain. Volk could taste it on the back of his tongue, a cold, metallic tang that sent shivers down his spine. His heart pounded in his chest as the creature fully formed before him¡ªa dragon of pure bone, its massive wings stretching out like the skeletal remains of a long-dead beast. Its hollow eye sockets burned with an eerie, otherworldly light, and its jaw hung open, filled with rows of razor-sharp fangs. CRRRREEEEAAAAK. The bone dragon''s movements were jagged and unnatural, its spine twisting and cracking as it reared its skull back, preparing to unleash a roar that would shake the heavens. The air around Volk grew colder, the temperature dropping as an icy wind howled through the battlefield. ROOOOOAAAAAARRR! The bone dragon''s roar ripped through the air like a thunderclap, shaking the very foundations of the Draconic Graveyard. The sound was deafening, a terrifying, primal scream that seemed to come from the depths of the underworld itself. Volk staggered back, his massive form trembling under the sheer force of the roar. His radioactive aura flickered, dimming momentarily as the creature''s presence filled the space. "NOT DEAD?" Volk muttered, his deep, guttural voice barely audible over the dragon''s roar. The creature before him was no mere remnant of the graveyard¡ªthis was a manifestation of Sung Woo-Ji''s power, a final, desperate retaliation from the Death Monarch himself. Volk''s eyes narrowed. This was only the beginning. The bone dragon lunged forward, its wings flaring wide as it swooped down toward Volk with terrifying speed. Volk braced himself, his enormous muscles bulging as he prepared for impact. SLAM! The bone dragon''s tail whipped through the air like a massive club, crashing into Volk''s side and sending him hurtling across the battlefield. He skidded through the dirt, his massive radioactive form leaving a trail of scorched earth in its wake. BOOM! Volk smashed into a pile of bones, the impact sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air. He grunted, pushing himself up with his massive fists, his glowing eyes burning with fury. "YOU... THINK... VOLK CAN BE STOPPED?!" With a roar of his own, Volk charged forward, his enormous fists slamming into the air as he swung wildly at the bone dragon. "SMASSSHHH!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the ground as he launched himself into a series of brutal, relentless attacks. His radioactive aura flared brighter, crackling with deadly energy. The bone dragon darted to the side, its movements swift and unnatural. It lashed out with its claws, its bone talons scraping against Volk''s skin with a screeching sound. Experience more tales on M V L "DIVIIIDEEE!" Volk roared, slamming his fist into the air with a shockwave of force. His massive, green hands swung down toward the bone dragon, but the creature moved with a grace that belied its skeletal form, dodging his attacks with ease. Volk''s frustration grew. His fists swung down again and again, each blow more savage than the last. "VOOOOOOOLLL!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the battlefield as he attacked, "SMAAAASSSSHH!!" But no matter how hard he struck, the bone dragon refused to fall. Its bones seemed impervious to his blows, and with every strike Volk landed, the dragon retaliated with bone-shaking force. WHAM! The dragon''s massive wing slammed into Volk''s chest, sending him flying once more. He crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, his radioactive form crackling with energy as he pulled himself to his feet once again. "GRAAAAAHHH!" Volk roared, his patience wearing thin. His fists clenched, and a dark, twisted smile spread across his face. "VOOOOOLLLKK ANGRRRYYY!!!" he bellowed, his voice booming as he unleashed his next attack. Tiny, glowing spores burst forth from his hands, filling the air around the bone dragon. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The spores swirled in the air, carried by an invisible wind, and as they made contact with the dragon''s skeletal form, Volk''s smile widened. "PARALYZE!" Volk shouted, swinging his fist toward the dragon. But the spores had no effect. The dragon moved through them with ease, unaffected by the debilitating attack. "CRUUUUUSSHHH!!!" Volk tried again, slamming his fist into the ground, sending a shockwave of spores into the air. But again, the bone dragon remained unfazed, its hollow eyes burning with a cold, unyielding light. "SMAAASSHHHH!" Volk''s attacks grew more frantic, his massive fists pounding the ground as he unleashed spore after spore. But no matter how many attacks he launched, the bone dragon seemed immune to them all. SLAM! The bone dragon''s tail whipped through the air once more, slamming into Volk''s chest with bone-crushing force. Volk let out a roar of pain as he was sent flying back, crashing into the ground with a deafening thud. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to push himself up. The bone dragon loomed over him, its skeletal form towering above his own massive body. The air around them was thick with tension, the feeling of death and danger pressing down on Volk from all sides. But Volk wasn''t finished. With a guttural roar, Volk''s body began to change. His muscles bulged even further, his radioactive aura flaring brighter as his form grew larger and more monstrous. His skin stretched and cracked, his bones creaking as his body expanded. "VOOOLK... GROWS... STRONGER!" he bellowed, his voice filled with rage and power. His form doubled in size, his radioactive energy crackling like lightning around him as he prepared for the final showdown. The bone dragon let out a low, menacing growl, its hollow eyes fixed on Volk as it prepared to strike once more. Chapter 142: Bone Bone Bones Volk''s massive green fists slammed into the bone dragon''s chest with a sickening CRACK, sending shards of bone scattering through the air.The impact rattled the battlefield, shaking the very ground beneath his feet. For a moment, Volk felt a surge of triumph. He had landed a solid hit, a blow that should have shattered the creature completely. But then, the impossible happened. The broken bones¡ªscattered in every direction¡ªbegan to move again. Clatter. Clatter. The fragments of the dragon''s shattered ribcage twisted and jerked, dragging themselves back toward the center of the battlefield. Volk''s radioactive eyes widened as the bones clicked together, reforming with eerie precision. The dragon, whose chest he had just obliterated, was whole once again. "WHAT...?" Volk growled, his voice filled with disbelief. His fists clenched as he swung again, bringing both hands down on the dragon''s head with all his might. BOOM! The skull shattered into dust, disintegrating into a cloud of bone fragments that blew across the domain. But as soon as the dust settled, the scattered bones began to move once more. Each fragment flew back into place, seamlessly reattaching to the body. Within seconds, the bone dragon was fully reformed, its eye sockets glowing with that cold, dead light. Volk let out a roar of frustration. "HOW YOU KEEP COMING BACK?! YOU MAKING VOLK ANGRY!!" His voice was a mixture of rage and confusion. This was unlike anything he had ever faced before. His fists, which had crushed armies, demolished cities, and left nothing but ruin in their wake, were completely useless against this creature. He snarled, his massive form charging forward once more. "VOLK ANGRY... DESTROY!" His fists swung wildly, smashing into the dragon''s wings, its legs, its spine¡ªany part of the beast he could reach. Each time, the bones crumbled under the force of his blows. Each time, the dragon was reduced to nothing but dust and splinters. But each time, it reformed. Clack. Clack. Clack. The bones pulled themselves together, one piece at a time, with a dreadful inevitability. The sound of them clattering back into place was maddening, a constant reminder that no matter how much destruction Volk wrought, the creature refused to die. "NO! NO MORE!" Volk roared, his frustration mounting as he slammed both of his massive fists down again, pounding the dragon into the ground with a brutal WHAM. The earth shook under the force of his blows, cracks spreading through the domain like veins of death. The bone dragon crumbled into a pile of shattered fragments, its body utterly destroyed. Dust filled the air, a cloud of bone particles swirling around Volk''s hulking form. But then, as Volk''s breaths came heavy and ragged, the dust began to shift. The fragments of bone moved, clicking together like the pieces of a grotesque puzzle. Volk''s eyes widened as he watched in horror. The dragon was reforming again. Piece by piece, the bones slid back into place, a rib here, a spine there. The skull, cracked in half moments before, reassembled itself with eerie precision. The dragon stood tall once more, unscathed, as if nothing had happened. ROOOOOAAAAARRR! The bone dragon''s roar pierced the air, its sound so loud that Volk''s ears rang from the impact. It wasn''t just a roar of defiance¡ªit was a call. A call to something far more terrifying than what Volk had been prepared for. The air shifted. Volk''s breath hitched in his throat as he felt a cold wind blow across the battlefield. Read exclusive content at M V L His eyes darted around, searching for the source of the sudden chill. The bones scattered across the domain trembled. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as he realized what was happening. From the far edges of the Draconic Graveyard, more bones began to rise. First, they were just small piles of skeletal remains¡ªmere fragments of long-dead creatures. But they began to move. And then, they began to gather. Volk watched in horror as the bones pulled themselves together, forming not one, but two bone dragons. Their hollow eye sockets glowed with the same cold, dead light, and their skeletal forms creaked as they stretched their massive wings. Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound of bones snapping into place filled the air as more and more dragons rose from the earth. Three. Four. Five. Ten. Twenty. An endless number of bone dragons emerged from the ground, each one identical to the first, their forms towering over Volk''s radioactive frame. The sky darkened as the dragons filled the air, their wings blocking out the light of the three suns that hung in the sky. "NO... NO... THIS CAN''T BE!" Volk screamed, his voice cracking with panic. His fists clenched tightly, his radioactive aura flaring with a desperate intensity. But no matter how powerful he was, no matter how many times he crushed the bones beneath his fists, they kept coming back. More dragons. More bones. The battlefield was a sea of white, jagged bone, stretching as far as Volk could see. The air was thick with the stench of death, and the cold, suffocating presence of the undead filled every corner of the domain. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the panic rising in his throat, choking him. For the first time in his life, he felt a deep, primal fear. A fear that no matter how strong he was, no matter how much destruction he unleashed, he could not win. ROOOOOAAAAARRR! The bone dragons let out a deafening roar in unison, their hollow eye sockets glowing with that eerie light. The ground shook beneath Volk''s feet as they moved toward him, their massive wings sending gusts of icy wind through the battlefield. Volk staggered back, his eyes wide with terror. How is he gonna deal with this?! How is he going to deal with countless enemies? He is confident against a giant, but countless of them? This was something he could not understand, something he could not destroy. Because even if he did, it would just grow back! The dragons closed in around him, their skeletal forms casting long, dark shadows over the battlefield. Volk''s radioactive energy flared, but it was no use. The bone dragons were endless. For the first time in his life, Volk, the unstoppable juggernaut, felt truly powerless. And as the bone dragons surrounded him, their eyes glowing with the light of death, Volk knew one thing for certain: The fight was absolutely going to long. Chapter 143: More Violence Volk''s massive form twisted and jerked as the bone dragons swarmed around him.Each strike he landed sent clouds of bone dust into the air, but no matter how hard or fast he attacked, the dragons kept reforming. His radioactive fists smashed through rib cages, crushed skulls, and shattered spines, but the fragments would simply pull back together, knitting themselves into new creatures as though his efforts were meaningless. "GRAAAAARGH!" Volk roared, his voice booming across the battlefield, shaking the very ground beneath him. He slammed his fist into a dragon''s skull, reducing it to dust once more. But even as the bones crumbled at his feet, more dragons appeared from the endless sea of skeletons around him. It was like fighting a tide¡ªno matter how many he destroyed, they always returned. Explore stories on M V L The air around him was thick with death. It clung to him like a cold, damp cloak, chilling his skin despite the radioactive heat that radiated from his body. His breath came in ragged gasps, the effort of fighting off the endless horde of undead wearing him down. Crack! Smash! BOOM! The sounds of bone and flesh colliding echoed through the graveyard as Volk swung his fists wildly, each blow creating a deafening explosion. However, the dragons moved faster than he could keep up, darting in and out of his reach, their skeletal forms snapping and clattering with deadly precision. "SMASSSH!" Volk howled as he swung his fist through the air, aiming for another dragon that had swooped down from above. His fist connected with its jaw, sending bone fragments flying in every direction. But the creature barely paused. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Its body twisted, reforming in midair before slamming into him with the force of a speeding boulder. Volk staggered back, his feet digging deep trenches into the earth as he struggled to regain his balance. He could feel the weight of the battle pressing down on him, like an invisible hand squeezing his chest. "DIVIIIDE!" He bellowed, launching another spore strike. The spores flew through the air, glowing with a sickly green light as they impacted the bone dragons. But even the paralysis, confusion, and disorienting effects of his spores did nothing. The dragons barely reacted. It was as though they were immune to his powers, their undead forms untouched by his radioactivity. One of the bone dragons lunged at him, its jaws snapping with a CRUNCH as they closed around his arm. Volk let out a guttural roar of pain, swinging his massive fist to dislodge the creature. He smashed its skull to pieces, sending the bones flying across the battlefield. But once again, the bones began to pull themselves back together, reassembling into a new dragon. "NOOO! STAY DEAD!" . Volk screamed, his rage reaching a fever pitch. He swung his fists in every direction, smashing the dragons left and right. His radioactive energy flared, casting an eerie green glow over the battlefield as he unleashed a wave of destruction. BOOM! He sent another dragon flying with a powerful uppercut, its body disintegrating into dust. But even as he watched, the dust began to swirl, pulling itself back together. More bones rose from the ground, forming new dragons faster than Volk could destroy them. His vision blurred with frustration and exhaustion. Sweat poured down his green skin, mixing with the blood that seeped from the wounds the dragons had managed to inflict. His breaths were coming faster now, each one a ragged gasp for air. He wasn''t winning. He wasn''t even holding them off. ROOOOOAAARR! Another bone dragon slammed into his side, its skeletal wings cutting into his flesh like knives. Volk screamed in pain, his hand reaching for the creature, but before he could crush it, three more dragons descended upon him. They clawed and bit at his body, their teeth and talons slicing through his radioactive skin as though it were nothing more than paper. "NO...!" Volk roared, trying to shake them off. He thrashed wildly, swinging his fists in every direction, but the bone dragons were relentless. They were everywhere. Surrounding him. Clawing at him. Tearing him apart. Volk''s knees buckled. He fell to the ground, the weight of the dragons pressing him down into the dirt. His massive hands trembled as he tried to push himself back up, but his strength was fading fast. His vision blurred again, this time from more than just exhaustion. Was this... fear? "RAAAAAHHHH!" Volk unleashed a final roar, pushing himself up with all the strength he had left. He swung his fists one more time, smashing through the dragons around him. Bones shattered, but the moment they hit the ground, they began to pull themselves back together. As he struggled to keep fighting, a sharp ding echoed in his ears. Volk''s blood ran cold. A notification appeared in his vision, glowing red: Time Remaining: 5 minutes. Mission Failure: All Horde Members Will Die. Volk''s eyes widened in horror. His fists, already trembling from exhaustion, clenched tighter as the reality of the situation sank in. He had only five minutes left to complete his mission. Five minutes before he lost everything. Before his horde¡ªhis army¡ªwas wiped out completely. "NO!" Volk roared, his voice filled with desperation. He could feel the panic rising in his chest, suffocating him. He couldn''t fail. He wouldn''t fail. He had to finish this. He had to kill the vessel of the Death Monarch. But where was it? Where was the human that had started this entire nightmare? His eyes darted around the battlefield, searching for any sign of his target, the main character, but all he saw were nothing but bones. Endless amount of bones. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as the glowing numbers in his vision burned brighter. Time Remaining: 4 minutes. The seconds ticked away like a slow, merciless hammer. The pressure felt unbearable. He slammed another bone dragon into the ground, but it was no use. The bones reformed faster than he could destroy them. Sweat dripped from his brow, mixing with the blood that flowed from countless wounds. His massive body heaved, chest rising and falling as exhaustion threatened to consume him. Each hit seemed weaker than the last. CRUNCH! Another dragon''s tail slammed into his side, sending Volk skidding across the bone-laden ground. He barely managed to dig his claws into the dirt to stop himself. His radioactive energy flared, creating a shimmering, toxic haze around him. The dragons snapped at him, unfazed by the radiation that would normally wither anything living. "VOLK SMASH! VOLK CRUSH!" he bellowed, voice strained with the effort of continuing the fight. He hurled his fist toward the nearest dragon. BOOM! Its skull shattered, bone fragments scattering across the field. But before he could savor the victory, they pulled together again, swirling into a mass that took shape before his eyes. This wasn''t working. The bone dragons couldn''t die. They kept rising from the grave like they were a part of the very air around him. 3 minutes remaining. Volk felt his breath hitch. His mind was racing now, the urgency tightening its grip on his chest. The dragons seemed endless, like an unstoppable wave of death. No matter how hard he fought, they just kept coming, relentless and indifferent to his strength. ROOOAAAR! A bone dragon screeched above him, diving in with terrifying speed. Volk raised both hands and caught the beast''s jaws just before they snapped shut on his head. Its weight crushed down on him, but he held firm, roaring in defiance. "NOT ENOUGH! YOU NOT STRONG ENOUGH!" With a desperate burst of energy, Volk twisted his body and hurled the dragon aside, its skeletal frame smashing into the ground. But again, the bones began to swirl, pulling themselves together as though nothing had happened. The bones shimmered with a pale, otherworldly light, almost mocking him. Volk''s breathing was labored now, his muscles screaming for relief. The radioactive glow around him dimmed slightly as his energy reserves began to drain. He couldn''t sustain this much longer. He needed to finish it. WHAM! Another dragon blindsided him, sending him crashing into a pile of bones. Volk staggered to his feet, disoriented and furious. He turned his gaze upward and saw the three suns still hanging ominously in the sky. This wasn''t his world. He was still trapped inside the domain of that accursed human. 2 minutes. Panic twisted his insides. There wasn''t enough time. The dragons were multiplying. Everywhere he looked, more and more of them were emerging from the ground, forming from the scattered bones of the battlefield. Their glowing eyes locked on him, and their screeches filled the air with a deafening cacophony. "WHERE YOU?! WHERE HUMAN?!" Volk''s voice cracked with desperation as he swung wildly, smashing several dragons into dust. But the endless tide continued. Bones rattled and clinked, forming new shapes around him, boxing him in. Every strike he landed only made the problem worse. He had to think. He had to find the vessel of the Death Monarch¡ªthe human that controlled all of this madness. But where? The ground trembled beneath his feet as another bone dragon rose, even larger than the ones before. Its massive frame towered over Volk, casting a long shadow that stretched across the battlefield. Its jaws opened wide, and it roared with such force that Volk stumbled back. THUD! The force of the roar hit Volk like a shockwave. He growled in frustration, bracing himself as he readied for another attack. 1 minute, 50 seconds. "VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ NOT FAIL!" His roar echoed across the domain, but for the first time, there was a note of doubt in his voice. He charged forward, swinging his fists wildly. He smashed through one dragon, then another, bones crunching beneath his blows. But they just kept coming. More and more. The clock was ticking. He didn''t have much time. Chapter 144: NUCLEAR ECHO BOMB!!! Volk, hulking in his radioactive Ogre-like form, snarled in frustration.His glowing eyes flickered, and his body trembled with rage. The bone dragons circled him like vultures, their rattling jaws clacking ominously. The ground beneath his feet shook, mirroring the seething fury building inside him. He clenched his fists, the radioactive energy crackling around his massive body like a storm. "VOLK¡­ SMASH! VOLK¡­ DESTROY!" His voice boomed across the battlefield, reverberating through the bone-strewn landscape. He swung his fists wildly, smashing one dragon after another, but it was futile. The dragons kept rising, bones clicking and clattering, as if mocking him. Every blow he landed only brought more of them to life. It felt endless, and for the first time, Volk felt something foreign creeping into his chest¡ªdesperation. CRUNCH! Another dragon slammed into him, sending him flying backward. Volk crashed into the ground, his body leaving a deep crater. He groaned, pushing himself up with difficulty. His muscles screamed, but the anger coursing through him kept him moving. His breathing was ragged, his vision blurred. He couldn''t let this happen. Not now. Not when he was so close. "VOLK... ANGRY! VOLK¡­ KILL THEM ALL!" His bellow shook the air, the radioactive glow around him intensifying. He leaped into the sky, soaring high above the battlefield. Explore stories on M V L The ground became a blur below him, and for a moment, he could see the entire domain stretched out beneath him¡ªan endless sea of bones and dragons. It felt like the world itself was crumbling under his feet. 10 seconds remaining. Suddenly, a notification blinked into existence in his vision. Ding! | Would you like to use Nuclear Devastation Strike? | Available Nuclear Strike: Earth Strike, Level 10. | Volk''s brow furrowed as he soared through the air, his massive body casting a shadow over the battlefield. His heart raced as he read the message. Nuclear Devastation Strike? His thoughts were jumbled, but another message appeared. | The strike depends on the host''s desire. | Please decide what the host truly wants before striking. | "WHAT? NOT CREATED YET?" Volk growled, "NO SKILL FOR VOLK?" he added with his voice cracking with disbelief. "WHAT VOLK WANT?" He didn''t have time for this. The dragons were closing in, the bones below shifting like an ocean of death. His mind raced, the seconds ticking away as he grappled with the system''s prompt. 9 seconds. Volk''s hands trembled. His anger surged, boiling over into uncontrollable rage. What kind of system was this? Asking him what he wanted? He wanted to kill. He wanted to crush. He wanted them all to be obliterated! His radioactive aura flared, burning brighter and hotter with every second. "VOLK¡­ SMASH! VOLK DESTROY ALL!" He screamed, veins bulging in his neck as he slammed his fists into his own chest. But still, the system waited. The countdown continued. 8 seconds. Volk''s mind spiraled. What did he want? What did Volk need? He couldn''t think straight. The dragons were swarming below, their jaws snapping, their eyes glowing with the promise of death. His muscles tensed, his heart pounded. He was running out of time. "VOLK¡­ NEED¡­ WHAT?" His voice cracked, almost pleading. His radioactive form shimmered with unstable energy, the pressure mounting inside him like a ticking bomb. His rage was consuming him, blinding him to everything except the urge to destroy. 7 seconds. Volk clenched his fists tighter. "VOLK¡­ DON''T KNOW!" His voice boomed across the sky, but the system didn''t care. It demanded an answer. What did he want? What did he need? The question repeated in his mind, over and over, driving him mad with frustration. 6 seconds. "WHAT DOES VOLK NEED?!" He screamed again, smashing his fists into the air as if he could punch the question away. But it lingered, gnawing at his mind like a parasite. His breathing became erratic, the radioactive energy crackling and sparking around him. He was on the verge of losing control. 5 seconds. The countdown kept ticking. Time was slipping through his fingers like sand, and he couldn''t stop it. The dragons below roared, their numbers multiplying with each passing moment. Volk''s vision blurred with rage, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would explode. "VOLK NEED¡­ SOMETHING! VOLK NEED DESTRUCTION!" His voice was frantic now, desperation mixing with fury. He couldn''t think. He couldn''t focus. All he could feel was the overwhelming need to annihilate everything in his path. 4 seconds. The pressure mounted. His thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind. What did he need? What did he want? The dragons swarmed below, and the three suns in the sky burned down on him like eyes watching his every move. He felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of the decision. "VOLK WANT TO SMASH!" 3 seconds. Volk''s body trembled as his radioactive aura flared uncontrollably. His fists clenched tighter, his muscles bulging with strain. He was losing it. He had to decide now. The dragons were waiting. The countdown was relentless. "VOLK... WANT... TO... KILL!" 2 seconds. Volk''s eyes burned with fury. He threw his head back and roared at the sky, his voice shaking the very air around him. He was out of time. His mind raced, every thought consumed by the need for destruction. There was no more thinking. No more hesitation. "VOLK WANT TO SMASH THEM ALL!!!" His scream tore through the battlefield as if the sheer force of his rage could tear the world apart. Suddenly, the system dinged again. | The host has created Nuclear ECHO Bomb. | Volk''s eyes widened in shock. His breath caught in his throat as the realization hit him. The attack was his. His desire for total destruction had manifested into a weapon of untold power. The bones around him trembled, and the air grew thick with tension as the bomb began to form, radiating an ominous energy that pulsed with Volk''s fury. And in that moment, he knew-he had the power to obliterate everything. Volk''s radioactive body trembled with a maddening energy, his massive form glowing brighter than ever before. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of impending destruction as the notification appeared in front of him. | Nuclear ECHO Bomb: | A strike that mirrors the host''s innermost desire to obliterate. | Upon contact, the strike causes a cascading chain of nuclear explosions, vaporizing all in its path. | The higher the number of the enemy in the area of effect, the stronger the damage dealt. | He didn''t need to think. He didn''t hesitate for a second. The sheer weight of his desire to smash, crush, and obliterate surged through his arms like a blood pumping ultraviolet light. His fist, clenched tight, began to glow with an unnatural, pulsating light. The energy built rapidly, making the air around him thick and oppressive. "VOLK¡­ DESTROY!!" With a furious roar, Volk rocketed downward, the sheer force of his movement splitting the sky as if he were a bullet shot from the heavens. His hulking body cut through the atmosphere, streaking like a comet toward the ground. His target¡ªthose cursed Draconic bones. As Volk descended, the power in his fist swelled, the glowing light expanding until it enveloped his entire arm. It was no longer just his hand¡ªit was an extension of his rage, a weapon of annihilation. The bones beneath him seemed to sense the impending doom, rattling and shifting as if trying to escape their fate. The world seemed to slow. Each second felt like an eternity as Volk fell from the sky, his body plummeting toward the ground like a meteor. The air around him rippled with energy, growing hotter and heavier with every passing moment. The sky itself seemed to darken, as if it was recoiling from the sheer destructive force being unleashed. THRUMMMM! The sound began¡ªa low, ominous hum that vibrated through the battlefield, rattling the bones and shaking the very ground. It was the precursor of the coming disaster. Volk''s body blurred with speed, his monstrous form gaining momentum as he closed in on the Draconic bones. BOOOOM! Impact. Volk''s fist smashed into the earth, and for a fraction of a second, there was silence. Time stood still. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the inevitable. The light from Volk''s fist surged, swelling and expanding, as the ground below buckled under the force. Then, everything exploded. BOOOOOOOM!! A shockwave of unimaginable force erupted from Volk''s fist, a blinding white light that swallowed the battlefield. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It was as if the very air had ignited, turning into a blazing inferno of nuclear fire. The ground split open, massive cracks racing outward like spiderwebs as the sheer pressure of the explosion rippled through the earth. The sound was deafening, a violent roar that shattered the bones, crumbled the mountains, and sent shockwaves for miles. The blast expanded, a rolling mushroom cloud of destruction, tearing through everything in its path. The Draconic bones that had once seemed invincible were vaporized, disintegrating into nothing in the face of the overwhelming power. KA-BOOOOOM! The explosion''s impact was cataclysmic. The ground itself seemed to liquefy under the force, the heat so intense that it melted the surrounding terrain. The mushroom cloud surged into the sky, rising higher and higher, a towering column of nuclear fire that blotted out the sun. The pressure from the explosion flattened everything in its radius, turning the battlefield into a wasteland of ash and molten earth. CRACK! WHOOOOM! The shockwave continued to spread, tearing through the air, the ground, the very fabric of the dimension. Trees were uprooted, rocks pulverized, and any remnants of the Draconic creatures were obliterated beyond recognition. The atmosphere itself seemed to warp, bending and twisting as the nuclear energy rippled outward. And at the center of it all was Volk. He stood amidst the chaos, his body still glowing with the residual energy of the Nuclear ECHO Bomb. His chest heaved with exertion, but a grin spread across his monstrous face. His eyes burned with a wild, primal satisfaction. He had done it. He had unleashed the full extent of his power. "VOLK¡­ SMASHED! VOLK¡­ DESTROYED!!" His voice roared through the dissipating chaos, a victorious bellow that echoed across the battlefield. He raised his fists to the sky, roaring louder and louder, his voice filled with triumph and raw, unbridled rage. He had conquered. He had obliterated. "VOLK¡­ IS¡­ UNSTOPPABLE!!" The battlefield lay in ruins, the Draconic bones that had once swarmed him now reduced to nothing but dust and ash. The power of the Nuclear ECHO Bomb had turned the once fearsome bone dragons into mere fragments, their presence erased from existence. Volk''s chest swelled with pride, his massive form still radiating the remnants of nuclear energy. He continued to roar, his voice shaking the very ground beneath him. His victory was absolute. Nothing could stand in his way now. "VOOOOOLK FEEEELS GOOOOD!" His laughter boomed across the wasteland, echoing through the devastation he had wrought. He had smashed. He had destroyed everything. He was victorious. The bone dragons were no more. The Draconic Domain had crumbled before his might. As the last of the nuclear energy dissipated, Volk stood tall, his hulking form outlined against the backdrop of the smoldering battlefield. His mission had been completed. The destruction was total. And now, all that remained was the thrill of his conquest. "VOLK¡­ IS¡­ THE STRONGEST OF THEM ALL!" With one final, earth-shaking roar, Volk basked in the aftermath of his own devastation, the triumphant beast who had brought an end to the Draconic nightmare. Chapter 145: Death of Song Outside the Death Dragon Domain where Volk was in, the city street turned into a battlefield, becoming an inferno of chaos and carnage.The clash of metal on metal echoed across the plains, accompanied by the thundering roars of the Ogres and the desperate cries of the human rankers. The reinforcements had arrived in droves, their numbers impressive, but even their vast numbers were no match for the towering behemoths they now faced. These weren''t mere Orcs anymore. They had evolved¡ªgrown massive, mutated into Ogres, their hulking forms towering over the battlefield, their muscles bulging with unnatural strength. BOOOOOM! sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. An Ogre smashed its massive fist into the earth, sending shockwaves that knocked a group of rankers off their feet. The ground trembled beneath its weight as it charged forward, its yellow eyes gleaming with rage and bloodlust. The rankers scrambled to regroup, their weapons trembling in their hands as they tried to contain the overwhelming force. The Ogres'' skin was thick and nearly impenetrable, their roars deafening, their fists like battering rams. "FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" one of the ranker captains shouted, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. But there was no retreat. The Ogres pressed forward, their footfalls shaking the earth. With each step, they crushed the remnants of the human defenses beneath their feet. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke, sweat, blood and panic. One Ogre lifted a human ranker by the waist, squeezing the man''s body like a ragdoll. The ranker screamed in agony before the Ogre slammed him into the ground with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across the battlefield as the Ogre let out a thunderous roar. "RAAAAAAAAARGH!" The Ogres were unstoppable, a force of nature, tearing through the human ranks like paper. Their roars were loud and primal, vibrating through the air with a force that shook the very bones of the rankers who faced them. Human soldiers fired rounds of bullets, but the bullets merely ricocheted off the Ogres'' thick skin. Magical spells were cast, lightning bolts arcing through the air, but the Ogres swatted them aside like gnats. "AAAAAAARGHHH!" The screams of dying men filled the battlefield as the Ogres rampaged, smashing through formations, their fists leaving craters in the ground. The humans were shouting orders, casting spells, throwing grenades, but it all seemed hopeless in the face of such raw power. Limbs flew through the air, blood soaked the earth, and the Ogres continued their relentless assault, each one more savage than the last. Meanwhile, back inside the domain, amidst the suffocating silence, a tiny crack appeared in the Draconic Graveyard. The silence was pierced by the sound of bones scraping against stone as a small skeleton emerged from the fissure. He was an odd sight¡ªa tiny, almost cute, figure compared to the massive chaos outside. His tiny bony feet clattered against the ground as he cautiously stepped out of the crack, his hollow eye sockets darting left and right in sheer terror. He trembled, shaking so violently that his bones rattled together. He was terrified. "Master... please..." he whispered, his voice trembling. He didn''t belong in this chaos. His small frame was fragile compared to the Ogres rampaging outside, and the battle raging around him was enough to make his bones shiver. But he had a mission. He had to save his master. As soon as he landed, he saw what was left of Sung Woo-Ji, and his heart¡ªif he had one¡ªsank. There, lying in a heap of blood and dust, was the familiar figure of the teenage ranker. Sung Woo-Ji''s appearance was a far cry from what it had been before the battle. His once sharp eyes were now dull, his skin pale, his clothes shredded and soaked with blood. His body lay lifeless on the ground, motionless, as though all life had left him. His messy hair clung to his sweat-drenched forehead, and his chest did not rise or fall. He was dead. The skeleton gulped, or at least made the sound of it, despite lacking a throat. His small bony hands trembled as he tried to grasp Woo-Ji''s arm, struggling to drag the lifeless body behind him. "Master¡­ please¡­ I''ll take you to another Death Orb... you have to keep it... we can''t let you die here!" he cried, his voice quivering with fear. Explore more stories at M V L His tiny frame struggled to drag Sung Woo-Ji''s body, which seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. The skeleton glanced up, watching the battle rage around him. The Ogres¡ªnow far more enormous than before¡ªwere decimating everything in their path. Bullets flew past the skeleton''s head, the sounds of gunfire and explosions reverberating in the air. Magic attacks lit up the sky, but the Ogres were undeterred, their rampage continuing unabated. "Master, hang on!" the skeleton squeaked, yanking with all his might as he pulled Woo-Ji''s limp body behind him. "Just a few more minutes! Just a few more minutes¡­" But the minutes were slipping away. The skeleton could see the humans being crushed by the rampaging Ogres. He dodged out of the way as one of the monsters stomped down, barely missing him by inches. Sweat¡ªor whatever the skeleton equivalent was¡ªdripped from his skull as he continued dragging Woo-Ji''s body through the battlefield. "Ten minutes¡­ we only have ten minutes left!" the skeleton gasped, his voice a shaky whisper. He glanced at the horizon, where the chaos seemed never-ending. It felt hopeless. Every step forward felt like he was walking through mud. His tiny legs struggled under the weight of Woo-Ji''s body, and the Ogres were everywhere. The battle showed no signs of slowing down. Nine minutes¡­ eight minutes¡­ The time ticked down, and with each passing minute, the skeleton''s panic grew. He couldn''t let Woo-Ji die here. Not now. Not after everything they had been through. "Come on! Please!" the skeleton pleaded, yanking Woo-Ji''s arm, his bones rattling as he struggled. The body was so heavy now, every inch of progress felt like moving a mountain. The skeleton''s mind raced, his fear growing as time slipped away. Six minutes¡­ five minutes¡­ "Master¡­!" the skeleton cried out, his voice breaking. He could hear the heavy footfalls of an Ogre approaching. The massive creature lumbered toward him, its eyes locked on the tiny skeleton. The skeleton squeaked in fear, dragging Woo-Ji faster, dodging behind a boulder just as the Ogre''s fist came crashing down, sending debris flying. "Four minutes¡­" The skeleton''s limbs were trembling, his bony hands barely holding onto Woo-Ji''s arm. He was out of time. His master was dying, the battlefield was falling apart, and the Ogres were closing in. There were only three minutes left. He could hear the countdown in his head, ticking down like a death sentence. Two minutes¡­ The skeleton gritted his teeth-or at least the skeletal equivalent-and pulled harder, his mind racing. It felt hopeless, every second was slipping through his fingers. Woo-Ji''s body was lifeless, cold, and still, and no matter how hard he pulled, it seemed like there wasn''t enough time left to save him. Finally, as the last minute approached, the skeleton let out a desperate cry, his voice echoing through the chaos around them. "Master, please wake up!" Chapter 146: Bong Me-Eon The battlefield was a blur of destruction and terror as the little skeleton pulled with all his might, trying to drag Sung Woo-Ji''s limp body through the chaos.His bony arms trembled from the effort, and his hollow sockets were filled with fear. Each passing second felt like an eternity as the Ogres rampaged all around, their thunderous footsteps shaking the earth. Just as the skeleton began to lose hope, a shadow descended from the sky, landing gracefully before him with an impact that sent dust swirling in every direction. The figure was tall and imposing, her long black hair flowing behind her like a midnight curtain. She was dressed in sleek battle gear, her eyes sharp and calculating. She surveyed the scene with a calm that seemed out of place amidst the chaos. Her presence, however, commanded respect and fear from both allies and enemies alike. This was no ordinary ranker¡ªthis was Bong Me-Eon, the Class S Ranker, the only one capable of holding her own in the face of such overwhelming odds, easily like facing a little breeze. The little skeleton''s jaw dropped. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "P-P-P-President Bong Me-Eon!" he stammered, his voice quivering with both awe and relief. He immediately began jumping up and down in excitement, his tiny bones rattling as he did so. "President Bong Me-Eon! President Bong Me-Eon! You''re here!" Bong Me-Eon looked down at the skeleton, her brows furrowing slightly as she took in the scene. "Even my necromancer disciple was turned into this," she muttered, her voice laced with a mix of concern and frustration. Discover exclusive content at M V L "This is really a disaster. And I''m the only Class S Ranker here who can deal with some of these creatures, but not all of them¡­" The skeleton continued to hop up and down in excitement. "Master! Master! Please, you have to save him!" he cried, pointing to the lifeless body of Sung Woo-Ji, who lay at her feet. "He''s still alive! You have to save Master Woo-Ji!" Bong Me-Eon''s sharp gaze shifted to the limp form of Sung Woo-Ji. Her expression softened just slightly, her lips forming a thin line. She knelt down beside him, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear as she examined his condition. "Alright," she said calmly. "But tell me, what exactly do I need to do?" The skeleton frantically nodded, his small hands gesturing wildly as he tried to explain. "He buried something! A Death Ball! Full of spirits! It''s the only thing that can save him!" His voice cracked with desperation. "Master tried to hide it just in case! But I''m not sure exactly where¡­ it''s in one of the buildings nearby!" Bong Me-Eon arched a brow, her lips twitching with mild amusement. "A Death Ball?" she repeated. "And you expect me to go digging around blindly for it?" The skeleton nearly burst into tears as he pleaded. "Please! Please, Master Bong Me-Eon! I don''t know where exactly, but we have to find it! It''s the only way to save him!" Bong Me-Eon sighed, tapping her chin thoughtfully for a moment. Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, she reached into her pouch and pulled out a dark orb, swirling with ethereal energy. The moment it appeared, the little skeleton froze, his hollow eyes wide with shock. "This?" Bong Me-Eon asked, holding the Death Ball in her hand. "Is this what you''re talking about?" The skeleton was stunned into silence, his jaw clattering in disbelief. He stared at the orb for several long moments before suddenly snapping back to life, his excitement returning tenfold. "YES! YES! MASTER OF MY MASTER! YES!" He jumped around with renewed energy, hopping in circles as he pointed frantically at the orb. "That''s it! That''s the Death Ball! Please, please save him!" Bong Me-Eon''s lips curved into a faint smile as she turned her attention back to Sung Woo-Ji. Without hesitation, she pressed the Death Ball against his chest, her hand glowing with a faint, eerie light. The orb began to pulse, its energy seeping into his body, and the air around them grew thick with a strange, otherworldly power. The phenomenon that followed was unlike anything the skeleton had ever seen. The sky seemed to darken, as if the sun itself had been swallowed by a shadow. The very air around them trembled, rippling with dark energy that made the hairs on the back of Bong Me-Eon''s neck stand on end. The ground beneath them began to crack, fissures spreading outward like the roots of a tree, as the Death Ball''s power surged through Sung Woo-Ji''s lifeless form. A low hum filled the air, growing louder and more intense with each passing second. The energy from the Death Ball was no longer just contained within it¡ªit was spreading, filling the area with a chilling, oppressive presence. The wind howled, carrying with it the faint whispers of spirits long forgotten. Shadows twisted and writhed, swirling around them like a dark storm. Suddenly, Woo-Ji''s body jerked, his chest rising and falling as if some unseen force was pulling him back to life. His fingers twitched, his limbs shaking as if he was struggling against invisible chains. His face contorted with pain, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before falling shut again. Bong Me-Eon''s expression remained calm, though there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Stay with me, Woo-Ji," she murmured, pressing the orb harder against his chest. The energy continued to flow, and Woo-Ji''s body responded in kind. His breathing became more regular, though shallow, and a faint glow began to spread across his skin. The little skeleton was hopping frantically beside them, watching the scene with wide-eyed amazement. "Master! Master''s coming back! He''s coming back!" he cried, his voice a mixture of joy and relief. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sung Woo-Ji let out a weak cough. His eyes opened slowly, glassy and unfocused, but alive. Bong Me-Eon let out a quiet sigh of relief, pulling the Death Ball away and stowing it back in her pouch. "Woo-Ji," she said softly, her voice gentle but firm. "Can you hear me?" Sung Woo-Ji blinked, his gaze drifting upward to meet hers. He was pale, his body still weak from the ordeal, but his eyes held a flicker of recognition. He tried to speak, but his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Master¡­" he muttered weakly, his hand trembling as he pointed toward the Draconic Domain Graveyard in the distance. "Please¡­ don''t let the thing out." Bong Me-Eon frowned, following his gaze to the towering, bone-chilling graveyard. "Why?" she asked, her voice sharp with concern. "What''s inside there?" But Woo-Ji didn''t answer. His body went limp, and he lost consciousness once again, leaving Bong Me-Eon with more questions than answers. She glanced back at the graveyard, her brows furrowed in thought, before turning her attention to the little skeleton, who was still bouncing with excitement. "We''ll figure it out," she said quietly, her eyes dark with determination. "But first, we need to get him to safety." The little skeleton nodded frantically, his bony hands clasped together in gratitude. "Thank you, President Bong Me-Eon! Thank you! Thank you!" With a final glance at the ominous graveyard in the distance, Bong Me-Eon lifted Sung Woo-Ji''s limp body into her arms. The battle still raged around them, but she was calm, her mind already working through the next steps. This was only the beginning. Chapter 147: Domain Destruction Volk, still in his massive radioactive Ogre-like form, stood in the center of the chaotic Draconic Graveyard domain, pounding his chest with primal fury.His deep, guttural roar echoed through the barren wasteland. "VOLK IS THE STRONGEST!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the very earth beneath his feet. His eyes were wild, his massive fists clenched tightly as he surveyed the destruction he had caused. Suddenly, his system chimed. Ding! | Mission Completed. | For a brief moment, Volk''s rampage halted. He squinted at the notification hovering before him, his mind struggling to comprehend the meaning of the words. Not all the horde members would perish. Volk frowned, his sharp teeth grinding against one another as his brow furrowed in confusion. "Horde¡­ safe?" he growled under his breath, feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and bewilderment. But then, another line appeared. | Please keep yourself alive. | Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Survive?" he muttered, his deep, monstrous voice vibrating through the air. "Does that mean¡­ Volk in danger?" The idea that anything could pose a threat to him, the mightiest of all, was laughable. . He threw his head back and roared with laughter, his booming voice resonating like a thunderstorm. "VOLK NOT IN DANGER! VOLK STRONGEST!" But something gnawed at the back of his mind. His instincts, honed through countless battles and conquests, whispered that the system''s warning wasn''t meaningless. The Draconic Graveyard domain, though twisted and barren, still stood. The ground beneath him hadn''t crumbled completely, and the skies above were still veiled in the eerie, deathly energy. The Bone Dragons, after so many fierce battles, had finally stopped reforming. Their bones lay scattered across the battlefield, no longer assembling into monstrous forms. But despite that, the domain wasn''t collapsing. Volk''s massive, hulking form remained trapped within it. "Why?" he growled, his massive hands gripping the air as though he could strangle the answer from the very atmosphere. "Why is Draconic Graveyard still here?" Then, it clicked. His system had told him to survive. Could this domain¡­ explode? Volk''s eyes widened, glowing brighter with the sudden realization. The graveyard hadn''t been fully destroyed yet, and if it was meant to detonate, he could be trapped inside when it did. "NO!" Volk roared, his rage boiling over again. "VOLK WON''T DIE HERE! VOLK SMASH ALL!" Without wasting a second, his massive legs coiled like springs, and with a mighty grunt, he leapt into the air, soaring high above the ground. His enormous body shot upward like a missile, his muscles straining as he climbed higher and higher into the darkened sky. The wind howled around him as his radioactive aura flared brighter than ever before, illuminating the dead, barren landscape below. Continue your adventure with M V L "IF IT''S GONNA EXPLODE, THEN VOLK WILL EXPLODE IT FIRST!" he screamed, his voice reverberating through the heavens. With every ounce of his strength, Volk twisted in mid-air and slammed his fist down toward the ground. The moment his fist made contact, the world shook. BOOOOM! The force of his impact sent shockwaves rippling through the domain, splitting the ground open like a fractured mirror. The earth groaned beneath his power as massive chunks of land were thrown into the air, crumbling into dust. CRACK! BOOM! Volk''s assault tore at the heart of the Draconic Graveyard, sending shockwaves through the entire dimension. But he wasn''t finished. As he slammed into the ground, he roared again, driving his fists deeper and deeper into the earth, each blow reverberating like the hammering of the gods. The very air seemed to buckle under his raw, destructive power. The cracks that ran through the ground widened, spreading like a spider''s web, and the atmosphere around him grew hotter and more oppressive. Outside the Death Dragon Dome, the chaos continued. In a random corner of the city, the human rankers and Orc horde that had turned into Ogres were locked in a brutal battle. The Ogres, far larger and stronger than before, rampaged across the battlefield, their massive fists crushing anything in their path. They were loud, their roars deafening as they tore through the human forces like wild animals. Blood splattered across the battlefield as the Ogres swung their clubs and fists, smashing human rankers into the ground with terrifying force. "AAAARRRGH!!" a human ranker screamed as he was thrown through the air, his body crashing against a crumbling building. Another ranker, wielding a flaming sword, charged at an Ogre, only to be grabbed mid-swing and crushed in the beast''s hand like a ragdoll. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Ogres roared, their deep, guttural voices echoing across the battlefield as they rampaged through the ranks of the human forces. "SMASH! KILL! DESTROY!" they chanted, their voices shaking the very air. The human rankers fought back with everything they had, unleashing powerful magic and advanced weaponry. Explosions of fire, lightning, and ice lit up the battlefield as the rankers tried to hold their ground. But for every Ogre they managed to take down, two more seemed to take its place. The Ogres were relentless, their monstrous strength overwhelming the human forces. Amidst this chaos, a strange phenomenon began to occur. Above the city, a massive circular object suddenly appeared in the sky. It hovered there, high above the battlefield, casting a shadow over the entire city. At first, it seemed harmless¡ªlike a marble suspended in mid-air. But then, the ground began to tremble. The human rankers and the Orc horde alike stopped in their tracks, their gazes lifting toward the sky in horror. The marble-like object trembled, and with each tremor, the air around it grew heavier, more oppressive. The ground beneath their feet shook violently, the tremors growing stronger with each passing second. BOOOM! The sound was deafening. The circular object in the sky began to crack, faint lines of light spreading across its surface like lightning. Each crack was accompanied by a terrifying rumble, like the world itself was splitting apart. The rankers and Ogres watched in horror as the cracks grew larger and more pronounced, the marble-like object threatening to shatter at any moment. CRACK! Another tremor rocked the city, sending buildings toppling and the ground splitting open. The sound of cracking stone and the groaning of metal filled the air as the city itself seemed to be on the verge of collapse. The massive object above them trembled again, and this time, the cracks spread even faster, racing across its surface like wildfire. The Ogres, once so full of rage and power, stopped their rampage, staring up at the sky in confusion and fear. Even their primal instincts told them something was wrong. The human rankers, battered and bruised, looked up with wide eyes, their faces pale with terror. "What¡­ what is that?" one of the rankers whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rumbling earth. "I don''t know," another ranker replied, her voice trembling with fear. "But whatever it is¡­ it''s not good." BOOOOM! The marble-like object trembled again, this time with even more force. The cracks widened, and with each tremor, the sound grew louder, more horrifying. It was as if the very fabric of reality was being torn apart. Everyone on the battlefield¡ªhuman rankers, Ogres, and even the monsters¡ªstood frozen, their eyes glued to the sky as the object continued to crack and tremble. The tension in the air was palpable, and the fear in their hearts was overwhelming. And then, with a deafening CRACK, the object finally shattered. Chapter 148: Bong Me-Eons entrance The moment the Draconic Graveyard domain shattered, chaos erupted across the battlefield.A deafening roar split the air as the fabric of the dimension tore apart, sending shockwaves that rippled through the entire city. BOOM! The sky itself seemed to scream as fragments of the broken domain plummeted toward the earth, massive chunks of dark energy raining down like meteorites. Each impact shook the ground violently, splitting open the streets, leveling buildings, and sending clouds of debris billowing into the air. The battlefield was transformed into a hellscape. The first wave of destruction was felt by both Ogres and humans alike. CRASH! A massive piece of the shattered domain smashed into a towering skyscraper, reducing it to rubble in an instant. The shockwave from the impact sent nearby rankers flying, their bodies tumbling through the air like ragdolls. Screams filled the air as the earth beneath their feet began to crack and collapse. "RUN!" a human ranker shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of destruction. But there was no escaping it. The ground split open, swallowing streets, buildings, and entire squads of rankers whole. Massive fissures crisscrossed the city, consuming everything in their path. The earth trembled violently as chunks of debris rained down from the sky, crushing anyone unfortunate enough to be caught underneath. THUD! An enormous slab of rock slammed into the ground, flattening a group of rankers who had been attempting to flee. The Ogres, larger and stronger than before, were thrown off balance by the sheer force of the collapse. Some were crushed beneath the falling debris, their massive bodies pinned under the weight of the collapsing city. Others, though injured, managed to survive, their monstrous strength allowing them to withstand the brunt of the catastrophe. Even as the earth crumbled beneath them, they roared in defiance, their hulking forms weathering the destruction with brutal resilience. "RROOOAAARR!" one Ogre bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos as he slammed his fist into the ground, sending shockwaves that shook the nearby rubble. Despite being battered and bloodied, the Ogres were relentless. Their thick, armored skin protected them from the worst of the devastation, allowing them to remain standing while the human rankers were decimated. For the humans, however, it was a massacre. Rankers scrambled to escape the falling debris, their voices choked with terror as they realized there was nowhere to run. BOOM! Another massive chunk of the domain crashed into the heart of the city, sending waves of dust and debris sweeping across the battlefield. Rankers who had been fighting valiantly moments ago were now reduced to frantic, panicked figures, desperately trying to find cover as the world crumbled around them. "HELP! HELP ME!" a ranker screamed, his arm trapped beneath a slab of concrete. His voice was lost in the deafening roar of destruction as another chunk of debris fell, silencing him forever. Despite the overwhelming destruction, a few humans managed to survive. Injured and bloodied, they crawled from the wreckage, their bodies battered and bruised. But compared to the Ogres, their numbers were pitifully few. The Ogres, though injured, were still standing, their roars echoing through the battlefield as they surveyed the devastation with savage glee. The humans, on the other hand, were at a massive disadvantage. Their ranks had been decimated by the collapse, and those who had survived were too wounded to continue fighting. The battlefield, once a place of intense conflict, was now a wasteland of rubble and destruction, with only a handful of humans left alive to face the might of the Ogres. Bong Me-Eon stood on a distant rooftop, watching the devastation unfold. Her sharp eyes took in the scene with grim determination. The city was in ruins, and the human rankers were on the verge of total annihilation. If something wasn''t done, the Ogres would wipe them out completely. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation. "If I let this continue, the humans will be annihilated," she muttered to herself. "I can''t allow that." With a deep breath, Bong Me-Eon steeled herself. She knew what needed to be done. She had faced magical monsters before, and though the Ogres had grown stronger, she had a way to deal with them. A method that would even the playing field and give the humans a fighting chance. "I have a way to deal with power-boosted magical monsters," she said, her voice calm but filled with a steely resolve. "And it''s going to be easy." As the Ogres began to celebrate, their deep roars shaking the battlefield, Bong Me-Eon raised her hand, summoning her magic. In an instant, the ground beneath the Ogres began to tremble. Several hundred mushrooms sprouted from the earth, their grotesque forms pulsing with an unnatural, eerie light. The Ogres, still drunk on their victory, didn''t notice at first. But soon, a strange smell filled the air¡ªa decaying, rotten stench that made even the hulking monsters pause. One by one, the Ogres sniffed the air, their faces twisting in confusion. Something was wrong. Meanwhile, far away, Bong Me-Eon''s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. "Ephemeral Death Spore," she whispered, her eyes glowing with the power of her spell. The moment the words left her lips, the mushrooms exploded. BOOOOM! Clouds of thick, green spores filled the air, swirling around the battlefield like a deadly fog. The Ogres, caught off guard, inhaled the spores before they even realized what was happening. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. For a moment, nothing happened. The Ogres looked around, confused and wary. Then, one by one, their massive bodies began to convulse. Their skin turned a sickly green as the spores took hold, invading their lungs and bloodstream. Your journey continues with M V L CRACK! An Ogre''s arm twisted grotesquely as his muscles began to wither, his once-massive form shrinking under the effects of the deadly spores. "RRRAAAAAGH!" another Ogre roared in agony, his eyes bulging as the spores ravaged his insides. His body collapsed to the ground, writhing and twitching as the life drained out of him. The remaining Ogres, realizing too late what was happening, began to panic. They tried to flee, but the spores were everywhere. Each breath they took was filled with the deadly toxin, and soon, their massive forms began to crumble. Bong Me-Eon watched from her distant perch, her face expressionless as the spores did their work. "Easy," she muttered under her breath. The battlefield was now a place of eerie silence, the Ogres'' once-mighty roars reduced to pained groans as their bodies withered away under the power of Bong Me-Eon''s deadly spores. Chapter 149: Ephemeral Death Spore Volk tore through the remnants of the collapsed domain, his massive, radioactive form sending debris flying as he rummaged through the wreckage.In his mind, he imagined a grand scene¡ªa victory unlike any other. "Volk strongest!" he thought, envisioning his Horde, Orcs turned into Ogres, gathering around him. They would chant his name in guttural roars, celebrating his triumph. His imagination ran wild as he pictured the moment when he''d return to them, standing atop mountains of fallen enemies. Volk grinned wickedly to himself as he imagined the Horde¡ªthousands of them, hulking and mighty, rampaging through cities at his command. They would tear down walls, crush entire armies, and leave devastation in their wake. "VOLK LEADER!" He would roar, and his Horde would respond in kind, their booming voices echoing in unison as they stormed across the battlefield, destroying everything in sight. He could see it now¡ªhis followers ripping through ranker defenses, their thick, impenetrable hides deflecting bullets and spells as if they were mere pebbles. "RRAAAGHHH!" Volk would lead them, crashing through walls, swinging his massive fists and obliterating entire squads of human rankers. His Horde would crush everything in their path. The ground would shake with every step they took, and the world would tremble under the sheer power of Volk''s leadership. In his vision, the Horde would celebrate their victories with bloodthirsty cheers. "Volk! Volk! Volk!" they would chant. He would stand at the forefront, their undisputed leader, basking in the glory of their destruction. "We smash! We crush! We destroy!" Volk would declare, and the Horde would obey. Together, they would raze cities, level mountains, and strike fear into the hearts of every living creature. Volk could almost hear their roars of approval, see their bloodied faces, and feel the thrill of commanding such an unstoppable force. But as Volk climbed back to the surface, his excitement and pride swelling with each step, the image in his mind shattered like fragile glass. What he saw before him wasn''t the victorious Horde he had imagined. No, what he saw was nothing but a field of devastation¡ªand not the kind he had hoped for. The Ogres, his mighty Horde, lay strewn across the battlefield. They were scattered like broken toys, their massive bodies lifeless, their once fearsome roars replaced by silence. Some had already begun to revert back to their Orc forms, their hulking shapes shrinking and twisting into the smaller, weaker figures they once were. "WHAT... WHAT THIS?" Volk''s deep voice rumbled with confusion as he looked around, his glowing eyes scanning the battlefield. His Horde¡ªhis loyal warriors¡ªwere not breathing. They were not cheering. They were lying there, motionless. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest. "NO... NOOOO!" he growled, his massive fists clenching at his sides. "Volk''s Horde... supposed to live!" Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His anger began to boil as he watched the last few Ogres stumble and fall, their strength drained, their once-powerful forms crumpling to the ground. "WHY?!" His eyes caught movement. An Ogre still standing, though barely, was swaying on its feet. Before Volk could react, the Ogre staggered, and right in front of it, a mushroom erupted, releasing a cloud of green, deadly spores. The Ogre coughed, its massive body convulsing as it struggled to stay upright. Within moments, it grew drowsy, its eyes rolling back before it collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. Volk''s radioactive aura flared. "No... no! What is this?" He took a step forward, his massive foot cracking the earth beneath him. His glowing eyes flickered with fury as he scanned the battlefield for answers. His mind raced. What could be killing his Horde? The deathly spores continued to drift through the air, their sickly green mist swirling around the bodies of his fallen warriors. Then it hit him. The spores. It was these cursed mushrooms that were killing them! His body trembled with rage, his muscles bulging even more as he finally understood what was happening. But how? He had completed the mission. The system promised that his Horde wouldn''t perish! "System!" Volk roared, his voice shaking the ground beneath him. "Volk complete the mission! Why they die?" His hulking form stood in the midst of the carnage, looking for an answer from the unseen force that guided him. Suddenly, a familiar ding echoed in his ears. | System under maintenance. | The message was cold and indifferent. It offered no explanation, no reassurance, just those three words. Volk stood there, frozen in shock for a moment, staring at the notification as his Horde lay dead around him. Continue your story on M V L The anger inside him built to a dangerous level, his radioactive form sparking with raw, untamed energy. "VOLK ANGRY!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the ground as his frustration turned into pure rage. His muscles bulged even further as the heat radiated off his body. His vision grew hazy, the edges of his sight blurring with a growing drowsiness. Volk shook his head, trying to stay focused, but the spores were getting to him too. He felt his limbs grow heavy, his mind growing sluggish. "No... no sleep... Volk must survive!" In desperation, Volk roared, and with a burst of his remaining energy, he leaped into the air like a missile, launching himself skyward with terrifying speed. WHOOSH! He shot through the clouds, a radioactive streak against the darkening sky. His massive form blurred as he pushed higher and higher, his glowing body lighting up the horizon. ¡­ Meanwhile, Bong Me-Eon observed the battlefield below with a smile. The Ogres were falling, one by one, succumbing to her Ephemeral Death Spores. Some had already reverted to their Orc forms, smaller and weaker, as the magic drained out of them. "Fascinating," she mused, watching as their transformation unwound before her eyes. "I''ve never seen anything like this before¡ªan Orc turning into an Ogre. Such strong creatures... but they''re all the same. Berserkers and raging beasts fall easily when they''re unconscious." She glanced at her disciple, Song Woo-Ji, who lay recovering beside her. "I''ll have to teach you how to deal with these kinds of monsters, too," she muttered to herself, her mind already planning future lessons. But then, Bong Me-Eon''s eyes narrowed as she sensed something. A surge of powerful magic particles gathered in one spot, emanating from the battlefield. Her heart skipped a beat, and she whipped her head up, searching for the source. And there, high above the battlefield, she saw it. A figure¡ªa massive, glowing shape¡ªracing upward with the speed of a comet. "What...?" Bong Me-Eon''s breath caught in her throat as she realized what it was. Swoosh! The sound of Volk''s rapid ascent sliced through the air, growing louder with every passing second. Chapter 150: VOLK SAVE HORDE Bong Me-Eon''s eyes sharpened as she sensed the magical strength coming from the creature soaring through the sky.The sheer force of its presence sent chills down her spine. This wasn''t just another Ogre or Orc. No, this was something more dangerous. Something far beyond the monsters below, which, at best, could only reach the initial stages of Class A strength. This one, though, radiated an aura that signified it was at the very peak of Class A. Her brows knitted together as her mind raced. "Is that their leader?" she wondered. The realization that this creature could possibly orchestrate the entire battle sent waves of concern through her. She took a deep breath, and a surge of necromantic energy poured out from her, thick with the scent of death. It cloaked her in a dark aura that flickered like black fire, making the air around her feel heavier, colder. Find your next read on M-V-L "No chances," she muttered under her breath. Suddenly, the ground near her feet cracked open, and from it emerged a series of coffins¡ªlong, black, and ancient. Their surfaces were carved with jagged, eerie symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own, glowing faintly in the dim light. The coffins themselves were immense, towering over her like sentinels of death. They were covered in swirling mist that coiled and drifted, obscuring the ground around them, as if the air itself feared their presence. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The coffins'' surfaces were covered in bony, skeletal hands etched into the wood, as if trapped souls were clawing their way out, frozen in a perpetual struggle. Every few seconds, a faint groan would echo from within, as if the dead themselves whispered warnings of the darkness held inside. The edges of the coffins were lined with thick iron chains, their rusted links rattling eerily, hinting at the untold horrors within. "Come forth, my sentinels..." Bong Me-Eon whispered, her voice cold and commanding. The coffins stood there, ominous, their weight pressing down on the battlefield as if they could tear open the veil between life and death at any moment. They stood like dark monoliths, prepared to unleash devastation upon her command. ¡­ Meanwhile, far above the battlefield, Volk hung suspended in mid-air, his massive, radioactive form glowing with an ominous green hue. His breath came in heavy, growling huffs as he gazed down at the scene below. The battlefield was shrouded in a sickly mist, the deathly spores wafting through the air from the cursed mushrooms that had decimated his Horde. His Horde. Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed. "Volk''s Horde¡­ no cheer for Volk..." he muttered, his fists clenching at his sides. He hated this. He hated seeing them lying there, unmoving. They should be roaring his name, praising him, charging forward at his command. Instead, they were silent, fallen. The spore-filled mist stole their strength and left them helpless, no longer able to serve him, to revel in the violence they created together. The thought burned inside him, stoking the flames of his fury. "Volk HATE THIS!" he roared, his voice booming across the sky. His rage coursed through his body, swelling his muscles even further, making his hulking frame tremble with raw energy. He had to destroy the spores, eradicate the mist that had taken his Horde from him. Then, an idea formed in Volk''s mind, primal and simple, but powerful. His lips curled into a wicked grin as he raised his massive arms above his head. "Volk... clap." He spread his arms wide, stretching them out as far as they could go. Then, with a sharp, deliberate motion, he slammed them together in a powerful clap. WHAM! The force sent shockwaves rippling through the air, but it wasn''t enough. Not yet. "ARRRGHHH!" Volk groaned, his deep, guttural voice filled with anger as he clapped his hands again. WHAM! The air quivered beneath the intensity of the strike. The spores around him trembled but didn''t dissipate. Volk''s frustration grew as his roars became louder. "ARRRGHH! ARRGHH!" he groaned again, clapping harder, the sound of his palms slamming together growing louder with each strike. WHAM! WHAM! The claps echoed across the battlefield, each one sending stronger ripples through the air, shaking the ground below. Volk''s muscles bulged grotesquely with each clap, veins popping as his radioactive energy surged through his body. His sinews tightened, his massive biceps expanding with every ounce of power he poured into his next movement. His body glowed brighter, his skin crackling with radiation, as the intensity built with each passing moment. "ARRRGHHHHH!" He let out an even louder roar, the force of his voice alone causing the ground below to quake. His next clap shook the very sky itself. WHAM! WHAM! The claps were like thunder, reverberating across the battlefield with deafening power. Each clap grew more intense, the air itself seeming to ripple in fear of the force behind Volk''s fury. Finally, with a final, earth-shattering WHAM, Volk clapped his hands together with all the strength he had gathered. The impact sent a shockwave so powerful that the very clouds above parted, and the spore-filled mist below swirled violently, dissipating under the force of the blow. As Volk''s hands connected for that final clap, the muscles in his arms compressed with terrifying force, veins bulging like ropes as his entire body surged with energy. KABAM! The ground below erupted as Volk came crashing down, slamming both his massive palms into the earth with all his might. The impact was cataclysmic, sending out a devastating shockwave that tore through the battlefield. The air roared with a thunderous BOOM, and the cursed spores that had blanketed the battlefield were obliterated, scattered into nothingness. The oppressive mist was no more. Volk stood tall amidst the destruction, his chest heaving, his fists pressed deep into the earth, his radioactive aura still burning bright around him. Below, the Ogres and Orcs stirred. One by one, they began to wake, groaning as they struggled to their feet. Their eyes flickered open, and slowly, they rose from the ground. Some of them blinked, confused, but soon, their roars returned¡ªquiet at first, but growing louder. They were alive. The Horde had survived. Volk stood tall, his fists still buried in the ground as he looked around at his revived Horde. "Volk... save Horde," he muttered, a deep satisfaction creeping into his voice. His Horde was back. They could cheer for him again. And cheer they did. The Ogres and Orcs let out deafening roars, their voices filling the air, returning to life, to strength. "VOLK! VOLK! VOLK! VOLK!" "VOLK! VOLK! VOLK! VOLK!" They were happy! They didn''t know what happened earlier, they were confused, but seeing the mushrooms, some few of them realized what it meant but most of them thought one thing. Volk save them! Chapter 151: HORDE THUNDER CLAP From atop the building, Bong Me-Eon watched the battlefield unfold like a twisted play, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile."Ah, so that''s what you did," she mused quietly. "You used sheer force to blow the spores away." Her tone was amused, but underneath seemed to have a calculated edge to it. She was impressed with Orc''s raw, brute strength, but she wasn''t about to let him undo her work so easily. Her hand slowly rose into the air, fingers tracing the space above her as she whispered an incantation. The air around her grew cold again, the dark aura seeping from her once more as if the very essence of death was manifesting from her fingertips. The sky seemed to dim slightly as her magic coiled, waiting for her command. "EPHEMERAL DEATH SPORE," she declared, her voice slicing through the air like a crack of thunder. The words themselves seemed to carry an eerie weight, as if the very sound of them held death within. The shockwave of her incantation rippled outward from her, a visible disturbance that spread across the battlefield in a series of ominous, dark waves. The shockwave surged forward like a spectral wind, sweeping through the city streets. It moved fast, but there was an odd, almost graceful fluidity to it. The wave twisted and turned, following the contours of the battlefield, snaking around ruined buildings and debris like a silent reaper, unnoticed by those too busy fighting. Read the latest on M-V-L As the shockwave touched the mushrooms scattered across the city, they began to tremble. It started with the closest one. It shook violently as though something was crawling inside it, trying to break free. Then, the shockwave passed to another, and another, the effect cascading through the streets. Each mushroom quivered at the touch of the spell, the tremors growing stronger and more erratic as the wave continued its journey. The scene was terrifying to behold. From any vantage point, you could see the wave moving through the streets like an unstoppable force of nature, touching mushroom after mushroom. Each one shuddered violently, their spores swelling, their stems twitching like something alive. The dark, deathly aura that clung to them intensified, becoming more visible to the naked eye, like a sinister fog creeping closer. One by one, the mushrooms erupted. Not like before, with mild clouds of spores drifting lazily into the air. No, this time the spores were unleashed with a force that could only be described as cataclysmic. From the trembling fungi burst thick, choking clouds of deadly spores, rolling out like a tsunami of smoke. The air itself seemed to turn to poison as the clouds expanded, the blackish-green mist swallowing everything in its path. The spores moved like a living entity, a massive wave of death that rolled through the city streets, consuming buildings, rubble, and anything in its path. The sound of it was horrifying¡ªa low, rumbling growl as the mist thickened, blotting out the sky as it moved. ¡­ Meanwhile, Volk stood among his celebrating Horde. "VOLK VOLK VOLK!" The Ogres and Orcs around him roared and cheered, their voices booming in triumph. Volk himself grinned wide, his massive chest heaving with satisfaction as he basked in the praise of his Horde. They were alive! They were strong! He had saved them! But then, the cheering stopped. Volk''s eyes narrowed, sensing something wrong. He turned, and there, in the distance, he saw it¡ªa massive tsunami of smoke, darker and thicker than before, rolling toward them with terrifying speed. It wasn''t just a mist this time; it was a wall of death, surging forward like a living, breathing entity. The death spores were back, and they were more powerful than ever. Volk''s grin faded for a moment, replaced by a grim understanding. He hated that mist. Hated how it weakened his Horde, how it threatened to undo everything. But then, a wicked smirk curled on his lips. This was nothing. Nothing that Volk and his Horde couldn''t handle. He threw his head back and roared. "HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORDE!" The sound was so loud, it made the very ground vibrate. Every Ogre and Orc within earshot stopped in their tracks, turning toward Volk with wide, eager eyes. They listened intently, awaiting their leader''s command. Volk''s massive hand pointed toward the oncoming wave of deathly mist, his glowing eyes burning with fury. "YOU SEE THAT? YOU SEE THAT CLOUD?" he shouted, his voice deep and guttural. "THAT CLOUD TRY TAKE YOU DOWN AGAIN! VOLK SAY... NO! WE HORDE STRONGER! WE SMASH CLOUD!" The Ogres and Orcs roared in response, their blood boiling at the thought of another challenge. Volk''s grin widened. He knew he had them. "LISTEN CLOSE!" he bellowed. "YOU TAKE HANDS... LIKE THIS!" He raised his massive palms together, spreading his fingers wide as he demonstrated. The Horde mimicked him, watching his every move closely. "SPREAD FINGERS... WIDE! HANDS STRONG! THEN... YOU CLAP!" Volk slammed his palms together with a thunderous WHAM!, the force of it sending a gust of wind spiraling out from him. "CLAP! SMASH CLOUD! MAKE WIND! BIG WIND! WE BLOW CLOUD AWAY!" The Ogres and Orcs looked at each other, determination flickering in their eyes. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They spread their hands, preparing to clap just as Volk had shown them. "ALL TOGETHER!" Volk roared. "YOU CLAP WHEN VOLK SAY! READY! READY!" The tension in the air was palpable as the Horde readied themselves, hands spread wide, arms tensed, waiting for the signal. The death cloud surged closer, its black mass filling the horizon. The ground trembled as the spores rolled toward them, but Volk stood tall, unafraid. "NOW!" he shouted. "CLAP!" WHAM! Thousands of Ogres and Orcs clapped in unison, their massive palms slamming together with a sound like a cannon blast. The force was incredible, a shockwave of wind that tore through the battlefield, pushing back against the death cloud. But Volk wasn''t done. "AGAIN! CLAP AGAIN! HARDER!" WHAM! Another clap, louder than the first. The wind intensified, swirling with more power as it pressed against the spores. "AGAIN! CLAP! CLAP!" Volk''s voice boomed over the battlefield as he led the Horde in a furious rhythm of clapping, each one stronger, louder than the last. The air quivered with the force of their combined power, the ground shaking beneath their feet. With each clap, the wind built in strength, howling through the streets like a living thing. The spores in the distance began to buckle under the pressure, their advance slowing as the wind pushed harder and harder against them. WHAM! WHAM! The Ogres and Orcs clapped with everything they had, their roars mixing with the sound of their hands slamming together. Volk''s voice rang out over the chaos, urging them on. "SMASH CLOUD! SMASH IT!" The wind swirled into a vortex, spinning faster and faster, gathering strength with every clap. The death cloud wavered, the spores within it scattering, unable to withstand the force. Then, with one final, earth-shattering WHAM, the wind exploded outward in a massive gust, tearing through the battlefield. The death cloud was ripped apart, its thick, poisonous mist scattered into nothingness, blown away like dust on the wind. The Horde erupted into cheers, their voices filling the air with triumphant roars. They had done it. They had smashed the cloud. They had survived. And Volk stood at the center of it all, his chest heaving with pride, his fists clenched in victory. His Horde was strong. His Horde was unstoppable. "HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORDE!!!" He roared, "STROOOOOOONG!!!!" he roared again, his voice filled with the thrill of triumph, and the Horde roared back, their voices shaking the very sky. Chapter 152: Reinforcement From her vantage point, Bong Me-Eon watched in disbelief as the Horde below celebrated their victory. Her brows furrowed deeply, lips pressed into a thin line."How...?" she muttered to herself. Most Orc tribes were chaotic, mindless, throwing themselves into battle with no real strategy or cohesion. But this tribe¡ªthey were different. They were organized, disciplined, and frighteningly responsive to their leader, leader. Even though she was an S-class ranker, she knew that taking on such a well-coordinated group, especially ones that could turn into Ogres, would be beyond even her abilities alone. Her mind raced with questions. "Is it because they can turn into Ogres?" she pondered aloud, turning over possibilities in her mind. Ogres were typically brutish, cannibalistic creatures, known for their wild nature and lack of reasoning. Yet here they were, these Orcs-turned-Ogres, behaving rationally and responding to commands. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Something''s wrong with this picture," Bong Me-Eon murmured. "This isn''t normal." Just as she was about to delve deeper into her thoughts, the unmistakable rhythmic thrum of helicopter blades caught her attention. The noise grew louder, cutting through the chaotic battlefield like an ominous announcement. She turned around quickly, her eyes widening at the sight. Above her, an entire fleet of military helicopters filled the sky. There were so many, it looked as if the heavens had unleashed a swarm of steel birds. Their black, angular bodies gleamed in the dim light, their blades slicing through the air with a deafening roar. As they hovered, ropes were dropped, and one by one, figures clad in heavy combat gear descended swiftly to the ground. Bong Me-Eon could sense them immediately¡ªthe thick aura of power radiating from each one. These weren''t ordinary soldiers. They were rankers. And not just any rankers. These were class A. The scene was an organized flurry of activity. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of rankers poured out of the helicopters, each one landing with practiced precision. The sound of boots hitting the ground, weapons clinking, and the constant hum of helicopters made the atmosphere tense. The air was thick with the weight of impending battle. Bong Me-Eon''s eyes narrowed as she studied them. "Class A, huh?" she muttered, feeling a small twinge of relief. Reinforcements were finally here, but would they be enough? Even for Class A rankers, the organized Horde down below would be no easy task. Suddenly, a deep voice spoke from behind her, pulling her from her thoughts. "S-class Ranker Bong Me-Eon, correct?" She turned swiftly to see a tall man standing beside her. He was armored head to toe in sleek, dark combat gear that looked almost impenetrable. His helmet, adorned with the insignia of high-ranking officials, covered most of his face, leaving only his sharp eyes visible. A large, reinforced chest plate protected his torso, and his shoulders were lined with reinforced padding. Attached to his belt were various weapons¡ªblades, firearms, and gadgets designed for any number of combat scenarios. He carried himself with a sense of authority, his presence commanding immediate attention. The man removed his helmet, revealing a stern, battle-hardened face. His eyes were sharp and calculating, scanning the battlefield for any signs of danger. His short, graying hair and the scars that ran across his face told the story of a veteran who had seen many battles. "I need a full report," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "We''ve lost contact with the Class B rankers that were dispatched earlier. How many of them are left? What''s the situation down there?" Bong Me-Eon sighed, her expression somber as she turned her gaze back toward the field of carnage below. "None," she replied bluntly. "They''re all gone. Wiped out." The man''s jaw tightened at her words. "How?" "The monsters," Bong Me-Eon explained, her voice calm but laced with frustration. "Orcs. Class C, initially. But they have this... ability. They can transform into Ogres. When they do, they''re class A monsters. That''s how they overwhelmed the Class B and C rankers. They weren''t prepared for that kind of power." The man''s brow furrowed as he processed her words. "Class C Orcs... turning into Class A Ogres?" He shook his head, his expression darkening. "That''s... catastrophic." He glanced back at the soldiers who were preparing for battle, his face grim. "It makes sense why they never stood a chance." Bong Me-Eon nodded. "Exactly. It was an ambush. They weren''t expecting the transformation." She clenched her fists. "If we don''t deal with this soon, there won''t be any humans left standing in this city." The man let out a slow breath, his gaze hardening as he looked out over the city. "Then we''ll avenge them," he said quietly, his voice heavy with determination. "That''s the least we can do for those who gave their lives." Bong Me-Eon said nothing, but her expression hardened as she prepared herself mentally for what was to come. The man''s eyes locked on Bong Me-Eon as he asked, "What''s the plan, then? What should we do?" Bong Me-Eon didn''t answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed as she stared down at the battlefield, watching the Horde below celebrate their recent victory. Her mind was already working through countless possibilities, strategies, and risks. Finally, she spoke, her voice cool but firm. "We need to take out the leader," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "He''s the one holding them together. Without him, the Horde will fall apart. If we don''t act fast, they''ll overwhelm us through sheer numbers and coordination." The man''s face tightened. "Why the leader?" Bong Me-Eon sighed softly. "These Orcs have transformed into something far more dangerous¡ªOgres. Normally, Ogres are brutal, savage creatures, but they don''t organize. They don''t lead. They devour anything, even their own. "But this Horde... they''re organized. They have a sense of unity and discipline that''s unnatural for their kind. That only happens when there''s someone holding them together, and that''s the leader. He''s the key. If we eliminate him, the rest will scatter, panic, and turn on each other." The man nodded, his jaw clenched. "And how do we separate him from the Horde? It''s not like he''s going to give us a chance to pick him off without a fight." Bong Me-Eon crossed her arms, her sharp eyes still focused on the battlefield as she thought carefully about her response. After a long pause, she offered four suggestions, each more dangerous than the last. "First," she began, "we can lure him away. We need to use something¡ªor someone¡ªthat the leader can''t resist. He''s impulsive and arrogant. If we can bait him into chasing us, we can pull him away from the Horde. "But the bait needs to be strong, something that will anger him, something he can''t ignore. Maybe a powerful display of force, or an insult to his authority in front of his followers. It''s risky, though. The person who acts as the bait may not survive." The man''s expression hardened as she continued. "Second," she said, "we can cut off his supply of reinforcements. Right now, the Horde follows his lead, but they''re also drawing strength from the fact that they''re still organized. "If we can create chaos within their ranks¡ªsplit them into smaller, more manageable groups¡ªwe can weaken them before the leader has a chance to respond. "We''ll need to sow confusion, maybe by using illusions or attacking from multiple fronts. It''s dangerous, though. We risk getting caught in the crossfire if we''re not careful." She paused for a moment, gauging his reaction before continuing with the next suggestion. "Third," Bong Me-Eon said, her voice lower now, "we can try to take out his lieutenants first. The leader may be the strongest, but he''s not working alone. He has a few key lieutenants, other powerful Ogres that help him maintain control over the Horde. "If we can eliminate them, the leader will be forced to handle the situation on his own. Without his trusted commanders, he might lose his grip on the Horde. "But that''s easier said than done. Each of those lieutenants could almost as strong as their leader himself. Taking them out won''t be easy, and it''ll take time¡ªtime we may not have." The man''s eyes flickered with concern, but Bong Me-Eon didn''t stop there. She had one final, desperate suggestion. "Lastly," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "we go straight for the heart. We launch a full-scale attack on the leader himself, but we hit hard and fast. "We take every available ranker we have, focus all our firepower on him, and overwhelm him before he can react. It''ll be brutal, and we''ll suffer heavy losses, but it''s the most direct way to end this quickly. "We won''t have the luxury of a drawn-out battle. If we go with this plan, we have to be prepared to lose people. A lot of people." Find your next read on M-V-L For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension. Bong Me-Eon''s suggestions were all risky, and each one came with the potential for significant loss. The man stared at her, his jaw set in grim determination. He understood the stakes. Finally, after a long, heavy silence, he spoke. "So be it," he said, his voice steady. "We''ll take the risk. Whatever it takes to bring down this Horde, we''ll do it. For the fallen, for the city. We can''t afford to lose." But before they could move to put any of the plans into action, a voice called out from behind them. "Wait!" The word cut through the air like a knife, freezing both of them in place. Bong Me-Eon and the man turned around swiftly, their eyes narrowing as they searched for the source of the voice. Chapter 153: Dont go Song Woo-Ji''s trembling body struggled to stay upright, his legs quivering beneath him.His skin was pallid, his face gaunt and drenched in sweat. His eyes, usually sharp with determination, were glazed over as if he were still fighting to remain in the land of the living. His breath came in shallow gasps as he leaned against the cold metal of the rooftop for support, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He was a shadow of his former self, weakened after the ordeal of death and revival, but there was a desperate urgency in his eyes. "D-D-Don''t¡­ g-go!" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a clear note of pleading. "D-Don''t¡­ go¡­" Bong Me-Eon turned her head sharply, concerned etching across her face as she watched her disciple struggle to even form words. "Woo-Ji, why?" she asked gently, kneeling down beside him, her tone soft but serious. "Why shouldn''t we go? What do you know?" Song Woo-Ji''s throat convulsed, and he forced the words out, each syllable like dragging a boulder up a steep hill. "W-we need¡­ stronger reinforcements¡­ SSS-Class ranker¡­" His eyes were wide with fear. "Or¡­ w-we''ll all¡­ d-die¡­" The armored man standing beside them, his helmet gleaming under the faint moonlight, narrowed his eyes. "Who is this?" he asked, his voice gruff as he gestured toward the weakened youth. Bong Me-Eon straightened her back, casting a quick glance at the man. "He''s my disciple, Song Woo-Ji," she said, her voice calm yet protective. The man raised a brow beneath his helmet, eyeing the trembling figure of Woo-Ji skeptically. "Did he fight the leader of the Orcs?" With what little strength he had left, Song Woo-Ji nodded vigorously, though his whole body shook as he did so. The man''s lips curled in slight disdain. "This kid''s weak," he muttered. "Maybe he''s just imagining things. Overestimating the enemy." His tone was dismissive, as though Song Woo-Ji''s warning was just the rambling of someone out of their depth. "It''s not uncommon for rookies to think every enemy is unbeatable." But Bong Me-Eon remained silent, her gaze fixed on her disciple''s face. She knew Woo-Ji too well. His instincts had saved her and others before. This wasn''t fear or exaggeration. It was something far worse¡ªcertainty. The look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps behind them drew their attention. Several Class A rankers approached, their armor gleaming in the faint light of the moon, faces set with grim determination. One of them stepped forward, saluting both Bong Me-Eon and the armored man. "Sir, ma''am," the lead ranker said, clearly addressing the two S-Class rankers. "Should we move in now?" The armored man turned to the group, his face hardening into a resolute mask. "Let''s go!" he barked. Without another word, he leaped from the rooftop, his body plummeting through the air for a moment before his form shot forward like a bullet, slicing through the sky with deadly precision. Several of the Class A rankers followed closely behind, their movements sharp and controlled, leaping off the rooftop in pursuit. But one of the rankers remained behind, his head tilting slightly as he waited for Bong Me-Eon. His eyes flickered between her and Song Woo-Ji, clearly unsure of what was happening. Bong Me-Eon, however, was lost in thought, her eyes darkening with worry. She had seen this look on Woo-Ji''s face before, on more than one occasion, when they''d faced enemies thought impossible to defeat. And every single time, he made the right call. She took a deep breath and made a decision. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Reaching into her pocket, Bong Me-Eon pulled out a small, sleek communication device. Without hesitation, she dialed a number, her fingers moving swiftly across the interface. "Woo-Ji''s instincts have never failed me before," she whispered to herself, casting a worried glance at her disciple. "If he says we need stronger reinforcements, then we do." The communication device rang once¡­ then twice. Bong Me-Eon''s heart pounded in her chest as the tension built. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the call connected, and a gruff voice on the other end spoke. "Who is it?" Bong Me-Eon''s hand clenched tightly around the device. "We might need you," she said, her voice steady but full of urgency. "Maybe it''s going to be worse than we thought." ¡­ Volk''s massive form towered over the battlefield, his skin pulsing with a radioactive glow. His body crackled with volatile energy, the air around him shimmering with heatwaves as his rage-fueled, monstrous strength radiated from every pore. He clenched his fists, feeling the power surging through his veins, and let out a deafening roar that shook the ground beneath him. "RRAAAAGGGHHH!" The bellow reverberated across the broken landscape, rattling the remnants of shattered buildings, sending waves of fear through the humans and even the Ogres who had just moments ago cheered him on. Volk reveled in this form¡ªhis Radioactive transformation made him feel invincible, like a god towering over lesser beings. He thought for a fleeting moment: "Why haven''t I turned back yet?" It had been well over ten minutes. Usually, by now, his system would have forced him to return to his regular Orc form. "The system''s still updating," he reassured himself with a smug grin, his tusks gleaming menacingly in the low light of the battlefield. "No matter¡­ I like this form. Stronger¡­ better." He flexed his gargantuan arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as they coiled, ready to unleash another devastating blow. His deep green eyes scanned the ruined city beneath him, the scattered mushrooms that had once spewed death now vanquished by his sheer might. "They can''t stop me," he thought. "No one can." But then, Volk''s senses flared, something sharp and ominous pricking at the edges of his awareness. It was distant¡ªfar off, but it was coming. Fast. His instincts, honed from an undeniable thirst of violence, screamed at him to take notice. His muscles tensed involuntarily, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. "What¡­ is that?" he muttered, his brow furrowing in confusion. The pressure grew, a palpable force, like the very air itself was bending and warping as whatever it was approached. Volk''s red eyes darted across the horizon, trying to pinpoint the source of the overwhelming presence. Each second dragged out painfully long as the sensation grew stronger, heavier. His heart began to beat faster, not from fear, but from the thrill of a worthy challenge. Whatever was coming for him was no ordinary opponent. "Come on then!" Volk roared to the sky, his voice filled with wild, reckless excitement. "COME AT ME!" The wind picked up, howling through the ruined city streets as the force approached. It was like a freight train barreling through space, growing louder, faster, more intense with every passing moment. The ground itself seemed to tremble beneath Volk''s feet as the sheer energy of the incoming threat rolled over him in invisible waves. It was powerful¡ªterrifyingly so. The kind of power that made even Volk, in his Radioactive form, feel a twinge of unease. The distant sky began to warp, a streak of light blazing across the dark horizon. Volk''s eyes narrowed, honing in on the source of that light. He could see it now¡ªa blazing streak of pure, condensed energy, ripping through the atmosphere like a meteor. It was hurtling toward him at breakneck speed, a force so concentrated that the very air around it seemed to ripple and distort, warping the fabric of reality itself. "Faster!" Volk''s voice rumbled with anticipation. The pressure in the air intensified. His muscles tightened further, preparing for whatever this was. His radioactive glow flared brighter, the heat from his body increasing as his excitement grew. His mind raced, thoughts of battle flooding his head. "Finally¡­ a real fight!" The streak of energy drew closer, tearing through the sky with deafening speed. Volk''s eyes widened in disbelief as the shape became clearer. It was no mere projectile¡ªit was a man. The armored figure hurtling through the air was shrouded in a golden glow, moving so fast that Volk could barely register his form. The wind from his speed whipped up tornado-like gusts around him, carving deep trenches into the ground below as he passed over the broken city. "What the hell is that?!" Volk growled, but his voice was drowned out by the sheer force of the armored man''s velocity. The man was a missile, a bullet of raw power aimed straight at Volk. As the figure sped closer, the force of his approach became unbearable. The pressure around Volk intensified, making even his Radioactive form feel small in comparison. The very air vibrated with power, the sky itself seemed to bow beneath the weight of this unstoppable force. Volk clenched his fists, his face contorting into a mixture of excitement and rage. "COME ON!" he roared, the ground cracking beneath him as his rage intensified. "I''LL CRUSH YOU!" In the final moments before impact, Volk braced himself. Discover exclusive tales at M-V-L The air around him shimmered with radioactive energy, his muscles bulging to their limits, veins pulsing with anticipation. He was ready to meet this challenge head-on. But then, in the blink of an eye, the armored man didn''t collide with him as Volk expected. Instead, the man zoomed past Volk at a blinding speed, a streak of golden light trailing behind him, leaving the hulking Radioactive beast standing there, blinking in confusion. The man didn''t even seem to register Volk''s presence. "Wha¡­?" Volk grunted, caught off guard. His towering form swayed slightly as he tried to process what had just happened. He turned his head, following the trajectory of the armored man, watching as he crashed straight into the earth far ahead, sending up a cataclysmic shockwave of dust and debris into the sky. Volk''s growl turned into a frustrated roar, his han ds curling into fists. "YOU!" he shouted, the ground beneath him shaking from the force of his anger. "COME BACK HERE!" But the armored man had already gone past him, crashing headlong into the city ahead. Chapter 154: Uneasy Smirk The man in the armor floated above the battlefield, his arms crossed arrogantly, casting a sneering gaze upon Volk and his horde.His polished armor gleamed in the dim light, radiating a golden glow that seemed to mock the chaos unfolding below. His eyes narrowed, observing with cold detachment as his allies, the human rankers, advanced in perfect formation, weapons drawn and magic swirling around them like a deadly storm. Volk, his senses sharpened by his Radioactive form, felt the shift in the air. His massive frame tensed as his eyes darted behind him, sensing the sudden influx of human rankers closing in. He let out a low growl, his anger bubbling up as he saw the humans charging at his horde. The smell of blood and burning ozone filled the air as the two sides prepared to clash. Suddenly, Grashk, Volk''s trusted lieutenant, appeared by his side. The hulking Ogre, his skin a mottled mix of dark green and brown, approached respectfully, his voice a deep rumble. "Volk," he called out. Volk turned his crimson eyes to his friend and nodded in acknowledgment. Then, without hesitation, he raised his massive fist into the air, the muscles in his arm bulging with raw power. "LOOOKKKTAAAARR!!" he roared, his voice booming across the battlefield like thunder. "OOOOGAAAAAAAARRR!!!" His rallying cry shook the earth, and the horde of Ogres responded with a deafening chorus of roars, their battle cries filling the air with primal rage. The ground trembled beneath their feet as they charged forward, their massive bodies crashing into the human rankers like a tidal wave of brute force. The battlefield erupted into pure chaos. The first collision was bone-shattering. The sound of steel meeting flesh echoed in the air, followed by the sickening crunch of bones breaking under the weight of massive Ogre fists. CRACK! A human ranker was flung through the air, his body twisting unnaturally as an Ogre''s hammer-like fist struck his side, sending him flying into a nearby building with a thunderous BOOM! Read exclusive chapters at M-V-L But the humans were no pushovers. The human rankers, Class A in strength, stood their ground with a terrifying combination of physical prowess and magical might. One of them, a tall woman with dark hair, slashed at an Ogre with a glowing blade of fire. WHOOSH! The flames roared as her blade sliced through the Ogre''s thick skin, leaving a trail of seared flesh and blackened blood. The Ogre howled in pain but retaliated immediately, swinging a massive club at her with enough force to level a small building. SMASH! She dodged the blow with nimble precision, her movements almost too fast for the eye to follow. She was followed by several other rankers, each wielding a different element¡ªlightning crackled, fire blazed, and ice formed around the battlefield as they unleashed their magical attacks. Grashk fought alongside Volk, his enormous fists pounding into the ground, sending shockwaves that knocked several humans off their feet. However, for every human he knocked down, two more rose to take their place. "RAGGHH!" Grashk bellowed, swinging wildly at the human rankers surrounding him. His fists connected with one, smashing him into the dirt, but the others retaliated with sharp blades and elemental magic. Volk, standing at the center of the battle, watched as his horde engaged in a vicious brawl. At first, it seemed like they were evenly matched¡ªthe Ogres, with their immense size and raw strength, were holding their own against the human rankers. However, Volk''s sharp eyes soon noticed something troubling. His brow furrowed as he squinted at the battlefield. Despite their size and power, the Ogres were struggling. The human rankers weren''t just strong¡ªthey were organized, strategic, and most importantly, they were using magic. Volk snarled as he watched one of his largest Ogres fall to the ground, its body wracked with electricity from a lightning spell. "So, it''s affecting us now?" Another Ogre, caught in a blast of freezing ice, was rendered immobile before a group of human rankers swiftly cut it down. "Maybe the magic of the last human rankers before them were ignored by us because they are weak, but now¡­" Volk''s mind raced as he tried to comprehend the situation. The weaker human rankers from earlier had barely affected his horde with their spells. But these new ones¡­ these Class A rankers, their magic was potent. It was breaking through the Ogres'' natural resistance, and his horde was paying the price for it. Volk gritted his teeth, rage boiling inside him. "We''re stronger¡­ but their magic is really affecting us now huh¡­" He watched as another of his Ogres, despite being twice the size of his opponent, was brought down by a torrent of fire and ice. The magical attacks were making the difference, tipping the scales in the humans'' favor. ¡­ Meanwhile, high above the battlefield, the armored man floated with a smug expression, his arms still arrogantly crossed as he observed the carnage below. His lips curled into a mocking smirk as he watched the Ogres struggle against his fellow human rankers. "Weak," he thought, his mind filled with disdain for the horde below. "These monsters are nothing. Just big, dumb brutes." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Class A rankers are handling them easily. They don''t even need me down there. It''s almost embarrassing to watch." He watched as a group of human rankers, wielding blades infused with elemental magic, effortlessly carved through the Ogres'' ranks. One by one, the hulking creatures fell, their massive bodies crashing to the ground like felled trees. The armored man scoffed, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "Look at them," he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "They don''t even know how to handle magic. They just charge in like brainless animals. Pathetic." He let out a cruel laugh, watching as another Ogre was brought to its knees by a barrage of fireballs. "Dumb monsters," he thought, his smirk widening. "They''re so predictable. Magic always confuses them. They have no counter for it." He shook his head, his armor glinting in the light as he floated above the chaos. "They think brute strength is enough. It''s laughable." The armored man''s laughter echoed in his own mind as he watched the scene unfold. "If this is all they''ve got, we''ll wipe them out in no time." He cast a glance at Volk, who was still fighting with all his might at the center of the battlefield, and snorted dismissively. "Even their leader¡­ he''s nothing special. Just another brute who doesn''t understand real power. They just got lucky they faced the weaker rankers earlier. Now, it''s time for our revenge! Humanistic revenge!" But then, something caught his eye. Volk had turned to face him, his crimson eyes locked onto the armored man. Despite the chaos, despite the magic ripping through his horde, Volk''s lips twisted into a savage grin, his gaze burning with challenge. The armored man''s laughter suddenly died in his throat. "What is he looking at? Is he challenging me? Is the leader of the horde overestimating himself?" The man sneered. "His horde is being thoroughly crushed, yet he still dares to act arrogant. Is this leader out of his mind? It seems their intelligence is not high enough; this is not surprising given their brutish nature and their mindless brawling strategy¡­" Chapter 155: Sense of Danger Volk''s massive body tensed, his muscles coiling like steel cables as he crouched low, ready to launch himself into the air."UWAAARRRGGGG!!!" The battlefield seemed to stand still for a heartbeat, the chaos around him momentarily muted by the sheer force building inside him. He clenched his fists, veins bulging along his forearms, and then¡ªBOOM!¡ªhe sprang upward with the force of a thousand explosions, leaving a crater where he once stood. The shockwave from his leap rippled across the battlefield, knocking both Ogres and human rankers off their feet. The sky itself seemed to shudder as Volk shot through the air, his massive form cutting through the wind like a missile. The sound of his ascent was deafening, like a sonic boom that tore through the clouds. WHOOSH! The air around him cracked and hissed as his velocity increased, the force of his jump sending him far above the armored man who hovered arrogantly below. Volk soared higher and higher, his massive fists clenched, his mind ablaze with newfound power. He could feel the wind tearing at his flesh, but it didn''t matter. He reveled in it, the sensation of absolute freedom, of total dominance over the battlefield below. His eyes gleamed as he glanced down, far below him, at the chaos of the battle. His horde clashed violently with the human rankers, the clash of steel and the roars of pain and fury rising like a chorus to meet him. A grin spread across his monstrous face. Volk had an idea. The battle, the destruction¡ªit felt too good. There was something special about this fight. It was more than just strength¡ªit was something deeper. As he hovered in the sky, far above the battlefield, his mind flashed back to the Draconic Graveyard, the place he had utterly decimated last time. It was there, in the smoldering ruins of that forsaken domain, that Volk had discovered a new ability. He would use that ability once again! Too many people are down below, and they are waiting for him to do what he must do as an invasive monster! To murder! A system screen suddenly flickers into view in his vision. The familiar sound rang in his ears: Ding! | You have updated one of the new features of the system. | The health bar! | Volk blinked, his eyes narrowing as he processed the message. Health bar? he thought, confused but intrigued. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, another message appeared: Ding! Your next journey awaits at M-V-L | Updating more features on the new system¡­ | Volk''s lips curled into a sneer as he saw it. "Updating? What now?" He growled to himself, feeling the system''s strange influence working within him. But then, his gaze flicked downward, and he noticed something that made his heart race. Below, on the battlefield, the human rankers and the Ogres were now marked¡ªeach with a glowing bar of light above their heads. The Ogres and Orcs had green bars, while the humans were marked with red. Obviously, it means one thing. Green means ally. Red means enemy. Volk didn''t need to be told twice. He understood it instinctively. The system had just granted him an ability to see the health of both his allies and his enemies. Volk''s grin widened into a full-blown snarl. "GRAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!" His laughter echoed across the sky, a deep, guttural roar that shook the very air around him. "VOOOOLLLKK IS HAPPY!" he bellowed, his voice filled with savage glee. Then, in a sudden shift, his laughter turned darker, more violent. "THEREFORE¡­ VOOOOOLLKK IS ANGRRRYYY!!!" His crimson eyes gleamed with malice as he clenched his fists, his massive muscles rippling with anticipation. "This system update is perfect timing," Volk muttered to himself, his voice a low growl. "Now I can see who needs to be destroyed!" S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The battlefield below was now clearly marked, and Volk knew exactly who his targets were. Without wasting another second, Volk turned his gaze downward. He saw the exact center of the battlefield, where both Ogres and human rankers were locked in combat. "Perfect," he thought. His massive form hung in the sky for just a moment longer, and then, with a thunderous roar, he shot downward like a meteor. WHOOSH! WHOOSH! The wind screamed around him as he plummeted back to the earth, his body accelerating with each passing second. The faster he fell, the stronger his energy became, the very air around him vibrating with the sheer force of his descent. He was like a living comet, his body glowing with an intense heat as he hurtled toward the center of the battlefield. Below, the armored man couldn''t help but be surprised. His eyes widened as he watched Volk''s monstrous form shoot into the sky like a missile. "What is he doing?" the man thought, his brow furrowing in confusion. He had expected Volk to attack him, to engage in battle mid-air, but instead, the Orc leader had launched himself far higher than anticipated. The man''s heart began to pound in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation creeping through him. Something felt wrong. "Why do I feel this¡­?" he muttered to himself, his hands tightening into fists. His heartbeat quickened, each thud of his heart growing louder in his ears. "Why¡­?" Suddenly, as Volk began his rapid descent back to the battlefield, the man felt it¡ªhis heart leapt in his chest, a violent, involuntary reaction to the sheer force of Volk''s presence. His body trembled, his instincts screaming at him that something was terribly, terribly wrong. "This¡­ this isn''t right¡­" The armored man''s eyes widened in shock as he watched Volk descending like a fiery comet, faster and stronger with each passing second. THUMP! THUMP! His heart pounded wildly, the sensation overwhelming him. "What¡­ what is this?" he gasped, his voice trembling. His body was shaking uncontrollably now, his muscles refusing to obey his commands. "I can''t¡­ stop trembling!" Volk was coming down, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "NUCLEAR EEECHO BOOOOOOOOMMB!!!" Volk''s voice roared across the battlefield as he drew closer to the ground, his massive fists raised and ready to smash into the earth with devastating force. The Ogres and human rankers alike looked up in terror as Volk''s massive form hurtled toward them, his fist aimed directly at the center of the battlefield. But just as Volk''s fist was about to collide with the earth¡ªBANG! A sharp, stinging pain exploded across Volk''s face. His eyes widened in shock as his body was suddenly knocked off course, the force of the blow sending him sprawling forward, not far away from the center of the battlefield. Volk''s body hurtled downward, his momentum still raging like a comet streaking through the atmosphere. The interference had misdirected him just enough to avoid the perfect impact, but the sheer force of his descent still carried through. CRACK! The ground below shattered violently as his massive fist collided with the earth, sending shockwaves in all directions. The land buckled beneath him, jagged fissures snaking outward as debris exploded into the air. Chapter 156: WAAAAAAAAR! Volk''s form was forced deep into the earth, his colossal body disappearing into the jagged maw of the ground he had just destroyed.For a moment, the battlefield stilled, the chaos of battle pausing as even the human rankers and the Ogres alike glanced at the destruction Volk had caused. Dust and rubble clouded the air, but beneath the ground, Volk roared with fury, his voice muffled by layers of dirt and rock. His body was lodged upside down, his legs dangling awkwardly above him in the cramped space. "GRAAAAAHHHH!" His primal bellow shook the ground itself as he fought against the restraints of the earth, refusing to be confined by something as trivial as solid rock. His massive arms strained, veins bulging across his forearms and shoulders as he clawed his way upward. Above ground, in the midst of the battle, the earth trembled once more as a giant hand erupted from the ground, breaking through the rubble like a leviathan surfacing from the deep. Volk''s massive fingers dug into the shattered ground, pulling himself up with brute force. Then, his face, twisted with fury, broke through the earth''s surface, his eyes blazing with anger. His tusks gleamed menacingly under the clouded sky as he glared around the battlefield, looking for his target. His gaze locked onto the armored man, who was still standing arrogantly amidst the chaos. The man casually kicked aside some Ogres and Orcs, as if they were nothing more than annoyances. His nonchalant attitude, the ease with which he dismissed Volk''s horde, ignited a furious blaze in Volk''s chest. "YOOOUUU!!!" Volk roared, his voice a thunderous growl that rippled across the battlefield. His hands clawed at the ground as he dragged his massive form out of the crater, his entire body shaking with barely contained rage. But before Volk could move toward his target, a voice rang out behind him, sharp and commanding. "THERE''S THE ORC HORDE LEADER! DESTROY HIM!" Volk''s head snapped around just in time to see a barrage of flame, glowing hot and fierce, hurtling toward him. FWOOM! The fire seared through the air, and Volk barely had time to raise his arms in defense before it smashed into him with a burning ferocity. The flames licked at his skin, scorching his flesh, but before he could react, more magical elements came crashing down upon him. Lightning cracked through the sky, arcs of pure energy tearing through the battlefield to strike Volk''s massive form. ZAP! The bolts exploded against his skin, sending jolts of pain shooting through his nerves. Then came the ice, sharp shards of frozen magic piercing through the air to embed themselves into his flesh. CRASH! The cold burned just as much as the flame, and Volk let out a furious roar of pain. The magical onslaught was endless. From all sides, human rankers shouted commands, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony of war cries and orders. "Keep up the pressure! Don''t let him recover!" "Focus your attacks! We need to bring him down!" "Burn him! Freeze him! Don''t let up!" Every ranker seemed to be targeting Volk, throwing their most powerful spells and attacks at him with reckless abandon. Fireballs, ice spikes, lightning strikes, earthquakes¡ªevery possible element surged toward him, smashing into his body without pause. BOOM! CRACK! FWOOSH! The battlefield was a storm of magic, the air thick with the smell of burning flesh and the crackle of energy. Volk''s muscles tensed and rippled beneath the assault, his massive frame absorbing blow after blow. But even he, as strong as he was, could feel the sting of these powerful attacks. His flesh sizzled, his skin blistering under the endless barrage of magic. His vision blurred with the sheer force of the hits, but his eyes remained sharp, burning with fury as he took the punishment. Stay tuned for updates on M-V-L Behind him, his horde¡ªthe Ogres and Orcs¡ªwatched in horror as their leader was engulfed in the violent storm of magic. "WAECHIIIEEEFF!!!!" they screamed, panic spreading through their ranks. The Ogres, usually so fearsome, now seemed lost and afraid. They had never seen their leader in such a state, overwhelmed by the relentless attacks of the human rankers. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Some of the Ogres surged forward, desperate to save Volk from the onslaught. "WARCHIIEEEEFFF!!!! WARCHIIEEEEEFFFFF!!!" they bellowed, their voices thick with desperation. But the human rankers stood firm, their attacks focused solely on Volk, even if it meant leaving themselves open to the clubs and axes of the Ogres. The human rankers didn''t care if they died. All that mattered was taking down the Orc Horde leader. Volk could hear the panicked cries of his horde, but he was too consumed by the magical storm to respond. His body was being pelted from every direction, his skin charred, his muscles burning from the relentless attacks. He was being buried alive beneath a mountain of magical power, his massive form almost completely obscured by the swirling vortex of spells. Fire, ice, lightning, earth¡ªevery element imaginable crashed into him, layer upon layer of destruction piling on top of him until he was nothing more than a shadow in the midst of the chaos. His body was covered from head to toe in the magical assault, and it seemed like there was no end to it. But deep within the storm, Volk''s eyes still burned with fury. His body, battered and bruised, refused to give in. He could feel the pain coursing through him, but it only fueled his rage. His massive frame trembled with barely contained fury, his muscles twitching as he struggled against the endless assault. ¡­ Through the cracks in the magical storm, Volk''s face could be seen, his eyes gleaming with pure hatred toward the surrounding rankers who were raining magic spells on him. GrrrRrrrRrrrr¡­ His mouth twisted into a snarl, his teeth bared in fury as he glared at his enemies. The human rankers thought they could bury him, that they could drown him in their magic, making him frustrated. Some of them even stopped targeting him, as they were now celebrating, thinking that they had already gotten rid of him. Volk hated it! HOW DARE YOU STOP ATTACKING!? DO YOU THINK I, VOLK, THE CHIEFTAIN, CAN BE EASILY KILLED!? CAN I BE EASILY BEATEN!? VOLK WAS NOT EASILY BEATEN! VOLK CANNOT BE BEATEN THAT EASILY! From within the storm, Volk''s voice erupted like a volcano, a primal roar that tore through the air with the force of an earthquake. "VOOOOOOLLLKKK IIIIIISSSS," he mumbled with a destructive growl, "THE STRONGEEEEEEESSST!!!" he roared! Chapter 157: Unkillable Warchief On the other hand, the armored man stood motionless, his towering figure a silent sentinel amidst the chaos.Beneath his gleaming helmet, his face was drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged and uneven. Each exhale was heavy, as if the very air itself resisted entering his lungs. His chest heaved under the armor, his heart pounding so fiercely that it felt like it might burst from his ribcage. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. His vision blurred for a moment, and the relentless drumming of his pulse filled his ears, drowning out the sounds of battle around him. His heart, racing uncontrollably, seemed to dictate his every thought. But then, without warning, when his fist connected with Volk, as he sent the Orc horde leader crashing violently into the ground, something shifted. His heart slowed. A strange calm washed over him. The beat, once frantic and erratic, now became measured, steady. He felt the panic drain from his body. Thump... thump... thump¡­ The armored man didn''t understand why, but at that moment, his instincts had screamed at him. His entire body had trembled with the overwhelming sense of danger. His mind had flashed with the thought: If Volk touched the ground... What will happen? He didn''t know but something inside was telling him it would be the end of everything. Now, he stood still, watching the battlefield as human rankers cast wave after wave of powerful magic, burying Volk in an ocean of elemental destruction. The air crackled with energy, and flames danced across the shattered earth where Volk had fallen. The armored man exhaled deeply. "It''s over," he muttered under his breath, though his voice trembled slightly. Around him, the other rankers began to relax as well. Their shoulders sagged with relief, and many let out weary chuckles or sighed loudly. They had poured everything into that assault, and seeing the Orc horde leader crushed beneath their combined power seemed to signal the end. The only thing they need to deal with were the others, they are sure that without the head, these monsters wouldn''t function well. So¡­ The armored man, too, let his tense muscles loosen. His chest, which had been tight with fear moments ago, expanded freely now. He was almost beginning to enjoy the moment of victory when suddenly¡ª KABOOM! The ground beneath their feet exploded outward. Stone and debris shot into the air like shrapnel, and from within the swirling dust, a colossal figure began to emerge. Volk''s roar echoed through the battlefield, a primal, furious bellow that shook the bones of every human ranker within earshot. "GRROOOOOOOAAAAAAAARRRR!!!" Volk had doubled in size. His already massive frame now loomed over them, a mountain of flesh and rage. His muscles bulged, thick cords of sinew rippling beneath his dark green skin. His veins pulsed like rivers of molten lava, and his entire body seemed to exude a terrifying aura of raw power. His eyes, once just gleaming with fury, now blazed with an almost supernatural glow, burning like twin suns of anger. His tusks jutted out further, his mouth twisted into a snarl of unimaginable rage. The armored man froze, his eyes widening in terror. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to move, to run, but his body refused to obey. Volk stood before him, a living nightmare. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Orc horde leader''s fists were clenched, veins bulging as he raised them high above his head. Towering, he cast an enormous shadow over the battlefield, his entire form radiating an overwhelming sense of doom. Around them, the Ogres and Orcs saw their leader rise, and immediately they erupted into cheers. "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" They chanted his status in their ranks with a reckless abandon, and their voices were merging into a single, thunderous roar of triumph. The once panicked and disheartened horde had found renewed strength. Their leader was not only alive but more powerful than before. "VOOOOLLLKKK!!!" A hulking Ogre raised his massive club into the air, tears streaming down his rough face. "Warchief wouldn''t fall easily! The invincible leader! We knew he would never fall!" Another Orc, battered and bloodied, threw his hands into the air and screamed, "Volk! Warchief has returned! We will destroy them all!" The horde surged forward, their morale skyrocketing as they watched their leader stand defiant in the center of the battlefield. Their chants grew louder, almost deafening. "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" It was a war cry, a promise of destruction and death to their enemies. They swung their weapons with renewed vigor, crashing into the human rankers like an unstoppable wave of violence. The humans, on the other hand, were overcome with a crippling sense of dread. "What is that¡­?!" one of the human rankers stammered, his voice shaking. "He''s even bigger now! How are we supposed to fight that?!" "Magic! Keep hitting him with magic!" someone yelled, but the fear in their voice betrayed their lack of confidence. No one had expected this. They thought they had buried the orc horde leader under their combined might, but now he stood, more monstrous than ever, and their magic seemed pathetically small in comparison. The armored man stood frozen, his mind racing as the cheers of the Ogres and the horrified murmurs of the human rankers echoed in his ears. And then, without warning, his thoughts drifted back. Why am I here? he wondered. How did I get to this point? Suddenly, memories surged through his mind, taking him back to when he was just a young man, an E-rank ranker. Back then, he was nothing¡ªjust a nameless face in a sea of hopefuls, trying to survive the dangerous world of dungeons and monsters. He remembered the first time he fought against a low-level beast, his hands trembling as he swung his sword. He was weak, scared, but he had survived, barely. Then came D-rank, where he began to understand the life of a ranker. He learned discipline, control, and started making a name for himself. He wasn''t powerful yet, but he had grit, and that counted for something. The fame was still out of reach, but his rise in the ranks began to catch people''s attention. People started to notice his growth. C-rank brought with it recognition. He could feel the shift, not just in his power but in how others treated him. Missions became harder, the monsters more dangerous, but so did his resolve. He was no longer that trembling kid with the sword. He was strong, and with that strength came the first taste of fame. He remembered the first time someone asked for his autograph, the feeling of pride swelling in his chest. B-rank was where everything changed. It wasn''t just about surviving anymore; it was about winning. He was chosen for high-profile missions, and his name began to spread beyond just a handful of rankers. He fought in larger battles, proving his worth time and time again. And when he finally reached A-rank, he felt invincible. People hailed him as a hero. He had saved cities, defeated monstrous foes, and with every victory, the world seemed to watch him more closely. Then came S-rank¡ªthe pinnacle. He remembered the day he was promoted, the way the world seemed to shift around him. Explore new worlds at M-V-L Suddenly, he wasn''t just a hero. He was the hero. His name was whispered with awe, his face plastered on every magazine and news broadcast. People called him legendary, but in that moment, he realized something crucial¡ªthere was always something more terrifying on the horizon. Why did I think of this now? He blinked, coming back to the present. The battlefield was still around him, the magic, the blood, the destruction. Why... did I dream of my entire life just now? His heart began to race again, his hands trembling beneath his armor. He looked up, his eyes widening as his mind snapped back into focus. There, towering above him, was Volk. The Orc horde leader had both fists raised high, ready to bring them down that seemed to have enough force to shatter the earth. Chapter 158: SSS ranked monster High above the chaotic battlefield, at the rooftop of a distant building where Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji stood watch, a sudden surge of energy crackled in the air.A portal shimmered into existence, swirling with hues of violet and silver, its edges rippling like water disturbed by a gentle breeze. From within, a figure emerged¡ªa woman who carried herself with a presence that commanded attention. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, yet age had only added to her fierce beauty. Her dark hair was swept back in a high ponytail, streaked with hints of silver that framed her sharp, angular face. Her eyes were a piercing shade of green, bright and intelligent, keen as blades. Fine lines traced the corners of her mouth and eyes, but they did nothing to dull her severe expression; if anything, they gave her an edge of authority and life-worn wisdom. Her posture was straight, her shoulders back, projecting an air of unshakable confidence. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She wore a fitted combat suit of muted black, adorned with silver accents that gleamed under the light, emphasizing her role not only as a ranker but as one of the most elite warriors of her world. With a glance, she took in Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji, her gaze resting for a beat longer on the young disciple, who stared far off, his attention fixated on the raging battle beyond. She raised an eyebrow, lips pursed in mild annoyance as she asked, "Why have I been summoned? You know my time is precious." Bong Me-Eon inclined her head respectfully, but the woman''s sharp gaze caught the weariness beneath her eyes. Bong Me-Eon glanced at Song Woo-Ji, then answered, "My disciple suggested calling for top-tier reinforcements. He''s¡­ convinced that we''ll need every ounce of power we can muster for this fight." The woman''s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Song Woo-Ji. The kid didn''t say a word, his attention riveted on Volk in the distance. She let out a sigh, half a sneer pulling at her lips. "This is the famous new disciple of my disciple?" Her voice held an edge of disbelief mixed with disdain, as if he were hardly worth her notice. She turned, eyes settling on the battlefield. It was a scene of carnage, yet the clash between the armored man and Volk held her interest. Volk''s ferocity was undeniable, and he had yet to be fully defeated, even by an S-class opponent. She crossed her arms, watching with faint interest as Volk rose higher into the sky. But as the Orc leader rocketed back toward the ground, the armored man met him mid-descent, driving his fist into Volk''s face and sending him hurtling into the earth. The impact sent a shockwave across the landscape. The middle-aged woman rolled her eyes. "So I''m here for¡­ this?" She sighed, folding her arms and glancing to the side, clearly impatient. "Honestly, why did you think I was needed? That man''s handling himself just fine, and besides, I had other things to do." She tapped her fingers thoughtfully, her tone almost exasperated as she started listing off her priorities. "I was in the middle of shopping. The good boutique only opens once a month, and I need that outfit if I''m going to be forced into another one of those high-society functions." She sniffed, her lips curving downward in distaste at the thought. "Then there''s the bakery down on Fifth¡ªI swear they have the best matcha croissants in town, and they only make a limited batch each day. Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to snag one before they''re all gone?" Her list went on, her tone more annoyed with each item she named. "And don''t get me started on the spa appointment I had lined up. Those specialists are nearly impossible to book. There''s that new jade treatment I''ve been dying to try for weeks. And then¡ª" She let out an exaggerated sigh, tossing a bored glance at the ongoing battle as if it were a minor inconvenience. She shook her head dismissively, casting a final withering look at Bong Me-Eon. "Really, why am I here? It looks like they''re holding their own. I think I should just return and finish my day." But as she turned away, a quiet voice broke through her musing. Song Woo-Ji, who had remained silent all this time, spoke in a low, trembling tone. "We need to leave." The fear in his voice cut through the air like a knife. The woman froze, her confident expression faltering as she glanced back at him. Bong Me-Eon stared at her disciple in surprise, eyes widening at the stark terror in his face. Song Woo-Ji''s voice was unsteady as he continued, staring out at the horde and the ominous figure of Volk. "If we don''t leave¡­ we''re all going to die." His words were barely a whisper, yet they echoed with certainty. The middle-aged woman frowned, still skeptical. Her gaze swept over the battlefield, where A-class rankers rained down magic upon the horde, their power crackling across the skies and pounding Volk''s army of Ogres and Orcs into the dirt. The sheer force seemed enough to annihilate anything in its path. She could see no reason why they wouldn''t emerge victorious, especially with so many powerful rankers united in their cause. The ranks of the Orcs and Ogres were dwindling, their forces shattered by the relentless onslaught of magic. And yet¡­ something gnawed at her, a growing unease that lingered even as she watched the scene unfold. Then she saw it. Far below, Volk''s hand lifted, fingers curling into a tight, unyielding fist. And with a terrifying speed, his massive arm shot upward, his furious eyes locking onto the armored man as his fist hurtled toward him with a force that could shatter mountains. Stay updated via M-V-L The middle-aged woman''s face paled, shock and disbelief crossing her features. The middle-aged woman''s eyes widened in horror, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Did that Orc horde leader just become¡­ an SSS-Class monster? Comparable to an SSS-Class ranker like¡­ me? In an instant?" Her words hung in the air, laced with disbelief and alarm, her voice echoing slightly amidst the distant roar of battle. Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji stood beside her, transfixed, faces pale as they too felt the terrifying shift in Volk''s power. It was like a dark storm swelling in the air, crushing down on everyone present with a presence so intense it felt like the ground itself might buckle beneath it. Just then, Volk''s fist came crashing down, aimed at the armored man who barely evaded, the ground exploding where Volk''s fist met earth. KABOOM! A violent shockwave ripped through the battlefield, its impact cascading outward like a massive tidal wave. The sheer force was so immense it rolled through the field, sending class A rankers and weaker Orcs alike flying back like leaves in a storm. The wave expanded outward, spreading relentlessly, the tremors climbing the distant buildings, and nearly reaching where Bong Me-Eon, Song Woo-Ji, and the middle-aged woman watched from afar. They had never thought that it would turn out this way, they had never thought than a simple Orc would become Ogre, and an Ogre that is a comparable to a peak A rank would jump instantly into becoming an SSS rank monster! Chapter 159: NUCLEAR ECHO BOMB The armored man wasn''t about to wait to see what Volk would do next.He clenched his teeth, fear spiking as he activated every boost his futuristic armor could muster. With a blast, he launched himself into the air, speeding away with all the power his suit allowed. His mind raced as fast as his body, calculating every possibility of survival, every counterattack. But no plan seemed feasible. This wasn''t the same monster horde leader he''d encountered moments before; now, the Ogre was now something beyond reason. Meanwhile, Volk simply stood there, towering over the battlefield, his eyes blazing with a fierce, unyielding confidence as he watched the armored man flee. Volk''s hulking form radiated power, his body almost thrumming with the raw energy that pulsed around him. The ground where he had struck still smoldered, a crater spreading wider and deeper with each passing second, cracks snaking outward. From the rooftop, Song Woo-Ji''s gaze remained locked on Volk, his face ashen. There was something hauntingly familiar about this overwhelming presence, something that dug into his soul with a primal terror he couldn''t name. It was as if some shadow from a hollow-forgotten earlier memory had clawed its way back, whispering dread into every corner of his mind. Back on the battlefield, where Volk had smashed the ground, the earth began to pulse, spreading in a sandy brown, circular shockwaves. At first, they were small and faint, noticeable only to those nearby. But then another wave followed, wider and faster. Another came, growing larger and stronger each time. The pulses rippled outwards, each one more powerful than the last, as if the very ground itself were breathing in time with Volk''s fury. The armored man, speeding across the landscape like a desperate comet, glanced back over his shoulder, a chill settling into his bones as he took in the scene. He hadn''t expected this. Never could he have imagined that the monster horde leader would ascend to an SSS-Class entity in mere seconds. Now, there was only one option left¡ªrun, and pray it was enough. Yet the further he ran, the more a cold dread crept into the back of his spine. At first, it was subtle, a faint shiver across his skin. But with each stride, it deepened, crawling up his spine like ice. His instincts screamed at him to flee faster, yet no matter how far he pushed himself, the chill only grew, gnawing at his core, overwhelming his senses. Finally, just as the fear grew unbearable, he felt it¡ªa shockwave. KABOOM! The blast hit him like a wall, stopping him dead in his tracks, his armor rattling with the force. He stumbled, thrown off balance as the ground beneath him trembled from the impact. Soon, a trail of blood could be seen where his body lay. ¡­ Back on the field, the horde of Orcs and Ogres had ceased their assault. The strange energy radiating from Volk''s power resonated through them like a distant, low hum, like an unsettling presence that made even the most battle-hardened warriors hesitate. Their gaze turned to Volk, then to the humans before them, a strange silence settling between the two sides. The human rankers, too, faltered, their attacks waning as they felt the wrongness in the air. It was as if they were all holding their breath, waiting, sensing that something dreadful was about to unfold. And then, the horror began. Without warning, one of the human rankers shuddered, their body trembling violently. The next second, a sickening pop resounded, and the ranker''s body erupted into a bloody spray, chunks of flesh and bone scattering across the battlefield. Another followed, then another. Each burst was met with screams as human rankers exploded one by one, like fragile vessels shattering under unbearable pressure. "HUH-" "WHAT IS GOI- "NOOOO-" Blood rained across the field, painting the ground in a crimson horror, the scene devolving into a grotesque display of death and carnage. The remaining humans, paralyzed with fear, could do nothing but watch as their comrades were torn apart by the unseen force. Volk''s allies¡ªthe Orcs and Ogres¡ªstared, both horrified and awe-struck. The display of power was beyond anything they had ever witnessed, a level of cruelty that even they, in all their savagery, had never imagined. As the grisly spectacle of rupturing human rankers drew to an end, silence gripped the battlefield. Every Orc and Ogre turned their eyes toward Volk, standing like a dark titan, towering over the bloody chaos. For a moment, they just stared, taking in the absolute destruction he had wrought. And then, as if compelled by some primal impulse, Volk slammed his chest¡ªonce, twice, and again, his fists pounding like war drums echoing across the ravaged field. "I AM VOLK! I AM THE WARCHIEF!" Continue reading on M-V-L His voice was like a thunderclap, like a force that violently reverberated through the very bones of his horde. The Orcs and Ogres stood spellbound, looking at him as if they had seen a ghost! A holy ghost! For them, power is everything! This destructive power, this capability, this cruelty! This is the power of the horde! No, not just any horde, their horde! Soon, a chant began to rise from among them, slowly at first, then growing louder, until it was a fevered roar that drowned out every other sound. "WARCHIEF VOLK! WARCHIEF VOLK! WARCHIEF VOLK!" As the chant grew to a deafening crescendo, two towering figures pushed through the mass of cheering Orcs and Ogres. Grashk and Grok''Thar¡ªmassive even among their kind, their muscled forms enhanced by the raw power of the Grum-gar transformation¡ªcame to a halt before Volk, their faces filled with awe and reverence. "VOLK, WARCHIEF," Grashk rumbled, bowing slightly, his voice reverberating with respect. "HOW DO YOU SO STRONG? WHAT SHAMANISTIC ABILITY THAT IS?" Grok''Thar echoed his words, his own massive frame leaning forward, eyes wide with anticipation, as if awaiting a sacred truth. Volk''s mouth twisted into a wide grin, clearly pleased by their admiration. Of course! Who wouldn''t!? He is after all, Volk! Their Warchief! He puffed up his massive chest like a thunder drum, glancing down at his two loyal warriors, his voice booming with pride. "IT''S CALLED NUCLEAR ECHO BOMB, VOLK''S NEW SECRET WEAPON!" He pounded his chest again, each thud resounding like thunder as he basked in the glory of his newfound power. But then, a shadow darkened the sky above them, and Volk''s attention shifted upward. A massive, bone-white figure was descending from the heavens¡ªa Skeletal Bone Dragon, its ghastly wings spread wide, casting an eerie, skeletal silhouette against the cloudy sky. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk felt this was very familiar, it was similar to the bone dragon of the other system user he had killed! What''s it doing here? There was no hesitation, no slowing as it hurtled downward, as though it were ready to smash through earth itself. With a massive KABOOM! the Skeletal Bone Dragon crashed into the ground, scattering Orcs and Ogres like mere pebbles. Dust and debris exploded in all directions, blinding everyone in the immediate vicinity. Volk shielded his face with one arm, glaring through the settling dust at the creature''s imposing figure as it loomed before him. Suddenly, he sensed where it came from, and when he turned his head towards certain building, his eyes widened. Chapter 160: Needed to be stopped Meanwhile, on the rooftop far from the battlefield, Song Woo-Ji''s breath came in harsh gasps, his entire body trembling, drenched in cold sweat.It had taken every ounce of his strength to keep his gaze locked on Volk''s monstrous form from afar, the terrible power he''d witnessed making his stomach twist with dread. Finally catching his breath, he looked at his master with pleading eyes. "Master, we need to go. Let''s leave now. I made that monster occupied for the moment¡­ let''s use this chance to escape." But his words only met with the stubborn, unyielding stare of the middle-aged woman, her face sharp and calculating as she kept her focus trained on Volk''s distant silhouette. She gave her head a slight shake. "No, Song Woo-Ji. We cannot leave this battlefield just yet." Her tone was firm, carrying a weight of experience that was impossible to question. "I saw the true nature of the monster''s attack¡­ the more targets it hits, the more powerful it becomes." Her voice grew grave, her gaze darkening as she continued, "And now that he''s achieved SSS-Class status¡­ if we don''t stop him here, he''ll tear through everything. Imagine him coming down on a city¡ªa comet of destruction hitting a crowd of people. "It would only amplify his power, multiplying the devastation tenfold. Even if all of SSS rankers in this world came together, all of us would be turned to this if attacked us while we are among the majority¡­" The thought seemed to momentarily stun both Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji, each of them picturing the unimaginable carnage monster horde leader could unleash if he reached civilian areas. She clenched her fists, her expression hardening. "We have to make our stand here, even it mean sacrificing my life." Then, turning to Song Woo-Ji, she spoke with a commanding resolve. "You, however, must leave." She nodded at Bong Me-Eon, who was already weaving a spell, forming a portal that shimmered with a swirling, blue energy. The middle-aged woman continued, "Go, Song Woo-Ji. Report what you''ve seen to the other SSS-Class rankers. They need to know exactly what we''re dealing with." Bong Me-Eon''s face softened, yet his tone left no room for argument. "Go, disciple. Grandmaster has opened the portal for you. This information is crucial." Song Woo-Ji opened his mouth, almost as if to protest, but the words died on his lips as he met their resolute stares. The moment was surreal. His heart thundered in his chest, a feeling of foreboding swelling within him as he took a shaky step backward, his gaze lingering on his master and grandmaster. And then, in a flash of blue light, they were gone, disappearing into the chaos, leaving him staring in stunned silence at the empty space where they had stood. ¡­ As they pressed forward across the vast, blood-soaked battlefield, the middle-aged woman moved with swift, measured steps, her every move filled with a sense of practiced control. Her sharp eyes swept across the battlefield, analyzing the landscape, assessing the scattered ranks of Orcs and Ogres that dotted the terrain. The battlefield was thick with the scent of blood and ash, a haze of smoke rising from scorched earth where remnants of fallen warriors lay silent. Bong Me-Eon kept close at her side, his eyes darting warily from one dark figure to the next. "Alright, we need a clear plan," she muttered, voice calm but tense as her eyes stayed focused on the distant shape of Volk towering over the remnants of the battlefield. "That monster horde leader... we''ll need to account for his strength, speed, and that Echo Bomb ability of his. One wrong step, and we''ll be among the fallen. But I have three ways to approach this¡­" "Three approaches?" Bong Me-Eon suggested, his gaze sharp as he waited for her thoughts. "We can devise three strategies and test his responses as we go." The middle-aged woman gave a curt nod. "Yes. I have three approaches in mind, though each one has its risks." She took a steadying breath, mind already working through the calculations. "First," she began, "we focus on containment. We surround Volk and his elite warriors, isolate him from the main horde, and force him into a smaller battlefield. This minimizes the damage his Echo Bomb can inflict on others." Her fingers tightened into a fist as she spoke. "But there''s a risk: if he breaks through our perimeter before we''re ready, he could unleash chaos within our own ranks." Bong Me-Eon nodded thoughtfully. "We''d need an advanced barrier spell, something large and flexible enough to encircle him but strong enough to absorb any blast." She pursed her lips. "Exactly. It would drain an immense amount of mana, but if we manage it right, it might give us the edge we need to keep his power focused in one direction, not on the masses." She paused, considering. "Second approach: We split the horde''s attention. If we divide his forces, sending a small group of elite rankers to strike key points within the Orc and Ogre lines, we might be able to weaken their morale. If his warriors are distracted and scattered, the monster horde leader himself might become vulnerable." Bong Me-Eon''s brow furrowed as he considered this. "So a feint? Draw him out while we divide his focus?" She nodded, a faint smile appearing. "Exactly. It would take precision, careful coordination, but if the monster horde leader is anything like other leaders of his kind, he''ll want to personally crush anyone who dares disrupt his ranks." Her voice hardened. "That way, we pull him into a position where his attacks become predictable, and we cut down his range of destruction." After a thoughtful pause, Bong Me-Eon chimed in. "What about a direct assault, a high-powered, concentrated blast at his exact location?" Find more to read at M-V-L The middle-aged woman''s eyes gleamed, her lips tightening with grim resolve. "That''s our third approach." She folded her arms, her expression like stone. "A large-scale magical attack, something that would break his defenses and perhaps even slow him down. But here''s the challenge: it will require perfect timing and an intense, concentrated amount of magic. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "One miscalculation, and the spell could lose effectiveness, or worse, it could backfire and send chaos into our own forces." Bong Me-Eon nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "So the idea is to force him into one position with the first two approaches, and then strike with the final blow?" "Exactly," she replied, her voice colder than the winds blowing across the battlefield. "We''ll need to work quickly and without hesitation. Containment, distraction, and finally¡­ total annihilation." They traveled in tense silence for a moment, each processing the complexity of the tactics they were about to implement. Around them, the battlefield stretched wide, a vast expanse filled with the remnants of prior battles, the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and metal. The distant cries of Orcs and Ogres filled the air, along with the faint roars of the lingering human rankers desperately holding their ground. In this grim scene, Volk''s towering figure loomed ahead, a dark shape radiating menace and raw power. "Bong Me-Eon," she murmured, eyes narrowing as she began to gather mana, the air around her sparking with faint traces of energy. "Prepare the large-scale spell for when we''re ready. I''ll take care of the horde leader if you can manage the main force." Bong Me-Eon nodded, his expression steady, though his eyes were alight with the spark of battle. "Understood, Grandmaster." His hands moved, tracing the intricate patterns of spell-casting, his face set with a steely resolve. But just then, Volk''s hulking form shifted, his head turning slowly, as if he could sense their presence. In an instant, his eyes zeroed in on them across the battlefield. The middle-aged woman''s expression turned grim. "He sensed us," she muttered. Her hand flexed, a surge of magical ranker power pooling at her fingertips. Volk''s enormous frame began to approach, his strides purposeful and deliberate, cutting through the battlefield like a juggernaut. The ground trembled beneath each step he took, and the Orcs and Ogres quickly fell back to make way, eyes widening in awe as they watched their Warchief charge. For what seemed an eternity, Volk bore down on them, and the woman and Bong Me-Eon prepared themselves, drawing in deep breaths, readying their attacks as his monstrous figure approached. Her mind raced, her senses heightened as she readied herself to strike with everything she had. Every plan, every strategy, was measured, calculated to take him down at the first moment he was close enough to hit. But then, when Volk was just strides away, towering over them with an aura that made the very air seem to hum with energy, he¡­ swept past them, and they noticed that his eyes were fixed on something¡ªor someone¡ªelse. They stood frozen, blinking in disbelief as he passed by, seemingly oblivious to their presence, his massive form cutting through the battlefield like a storm with a purpose they hadn''t anticipated. In a booming voice that echoed across the field, Volk''s words cut through the clamor of the battlefield: "SYSTEM USER, HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?!" Chapter 161: Running game As Volk thundered past them, the tremors from his enormous steps echoed in Bong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman''s bones.They exchanged a quick, stunned look, confusion etched into their faces. His words hung in the air and pang in their heads: "SYSTEM USER, HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?!" The middle-aged woman''s sharp gaze narrowed, suspicion flaring. "System user?" she muttered, her voice filled with a steely edge. Bong Me-Eon''s mind raced, her thoughts darting back to the earlier said that there was a clash between Song Woo-Ji and Volk. Her memory snapped to the Death Ball, the moment of eerie, unnatural energy that had surged through the battlefield. Was Song Woo-Ji somehow tied to this mystery? Did this monster horde leader was responsible of making Song Woo-Ji be in a state of temporary date? But the questions were quickly buried beneath her instincts. Whatever was driving Volk, he was charging ahead, deeper into the battlefield, ignoring them. Bong Me-Eon gritted her teeth, a surge of relief mixing with the sharp edge of their strategy now unfolding¡ªno need to isolate Volk if he was already distracted. Her master, however, was one step ahead. Experience exclusive tales on M-V-L Without a moment''s pause, the middle-aged woman had already turned, her keen eyes fixed on Volk''s hulking frame, retreating into the smoke. Determination sparked in her eyes as she began to chant, her words steeped in ancient, dark energy that seemed to seep into the very fabric of the battlefield around them. "Kraal''a Morbis!" Her voice carried through the air, the spell woven with the heavy weight of necromancy. As her words resonated, a jagged crack splintered the ground around her, dark energy swirling from the depths. From the earth, skeletal hands burst forth¡ªan army of bony, clawed fingers that lunged toward Volk. The skeletal claws reached up, trying to latch onto his legs, their bones creaking as they stretched. Volk slowed, gritting his teeth as he stomped down, crushing the bony limbs beneath his feet with a sound like shattering glass. Yet the woman''s spell was relentless. "Vra''khael Tenevos!" The second incantation shot through the air like a whip. From her outstretched hand, shadows condensed into a spear of swirling darkness, sharp as an obsidian blade, and launched toward Volk. It struck his side, the impact rippling through his armor-like skin and embedding with an eerie, sickening hiss. A pulse of necrotic energy spread through his flesh, tendrils of darkness clawing at his essence, but he growled, ripping the spear free and tossing it to the side. His steps only faltered briefly before he pressed forward again, an angry snarl twisting his features. The woman''s expression hardened, her voice deepening as she chanted again. "Mael''mirga Phanlark!" At her command, a massive wave of deathly energy rolled forward, thick and fog-like, sweeping across the ground. The fog carried with it the essence of decay, lapping at Volk''s form, its sickly energy grasping at him like thousands of ghostly tendrils. Volk''s steps grew heavier, his vision blurred for a moment as the fog wrapped around his legs and reached up toward his chest, dragging at him, slowing him. However, with a furious roar, he dispelled the fog, his massive arms tearing through the deathly haze like a storm breaking through clouds. Unfazed, she continued. "Mortegha Nagh''mor!" This time, skeletal hounds, born of shadows and bone, erupted from the ground. Their hollow eyes glowed with an unearthly green light as they snarled, baring rows of jagged fangs as they circled Volk. They darted toward him, gnashing at his heels, their bites leaving trails of decay along his skin. Volk snarled, slamming his fists down on the hounds, each hit causing bones to shatter and scatter across the ground, yet more hounds emerged from the ground, lunging at him in a relentless assault. Each strike he made scattered their forms, but the relentless onslaught slowed him, momentarily halting his advance. And finally, her voice crescendoed with a final, powerful spell. "Drak''vaul Terenos!" With her words, the very earth trembled, and then, a colossal skeletal dragon¡ªan echo of death itself¡ªrose from the ground behind her. Its hollow eyes glinted with a sinister glow as it let out a deep, resonant roar that shook the battlefield. With a single, powerful lunge, the skeletal dragon swept forward, slamming into Volk with a force that rattled the earth. The impact was tremendous, Volk staggering back under the force of the creature''s assault, his fists coming up to defend himself as the dragon''s claws raked against his chest and neck. For a few heart-stopping seconds, it appeared the dragon might drive him back, might force him down. But Volk, filled with a fury that seemed to radiate from his very core, roared and lashed out with his massive fists, breaking through the dragon''s bony form with sheer, brutal power. Bones shattered, splintering and scattering, and the dragon''s form crumbled into dust under his strength. The attacks had halted him for moments, seconds at best, but they were enough to earn the middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon a few precious breaths. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But then Volk turned, his gaze alight with a fiery rage, his eyes zeroing in on them. His face twisted with fury, a growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he raised a massive fist in their direction. "YOU DARE DISTRACT VOOOLK?!" he thundered, his voice a deafening roar that seemed to echo across the battlefield, reverberating in their bones. His stance radiated menace, his muscles tense and coiled as he prepared to charge, his rage igniting his every move. ¡­ Volk''s eyes glinted with a savage light as he cast a disdainful glance at Bong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman. His massive hand reached toward them, fingers stretching like talons as his shadow loomed over Bong Me-Eon. She froze for a split second, feeling the raw heat and menace of his enormous form closing in. But in that same heartbeat, the middle-aged woman''s hands were already weaving through the air, her voice a sharp command: "Drak''tar Vel''thora!" A wave of spectral chains erupted from the ground, snapping and coiling around Volk''s arm like the tendrils of some ghastly creature. They anchored into his thick skin, clawing at his flesh, and tugged him back, causing him to snarl in frustration. The chains held just long enough for Bong Me-Eon to snap back to her senses and dart away, narrowly escaping the crushing grasp that would''ve shattered her bones. Volk sneered, wrenching his arm free with a mighty heave that scattered the chains like wisps of smoke. His lip curled into a smirk, with the corner of his mouth twitching with something between amusement and contempt as he muttered, his voice a low rumble: "WEAKLINGS... VOLK SHOULDN''T WASTE TIME WEAKLINGS¡­ TWO OF THEM WON''T BE A THREAT IN THE FUTURE¡­ UNLIKE SYSTEM USER¡­" His gravelly tone faded, as if he couldn''t even spare the energy to finish his thought, and his gaze turned, locking onto a distant figure: Song Woo-Ji. A dark smile twisted across Volk''s face as he sized up his next target, his eyes narrowing with the thrill of the hunt. His massive body tensed, like a coiled spring, and then he burst forward in a ferocious sprint, each stride sending shockwaves through the ground. Boulders shattered under his weight as he tore across the battlefield, his intent singular, his gaze fixed on Song Woo-Ji. Chapter 162: Nick of time On the battlefield''s edge, cloaked in the eerie silence that stretched between clashes and carnage, Song Woo-Ji stood rigid.He felt the weight of his duty pressing down on his back as he stared at the portal his master''s master, the middle-aged woman, had conjured. Its swirling colors pulsed with a tantalizing promise of safety, its glow a silent invitation to leave, to escape to a world unburdened by bloodshed and terror. However, something heavier than fear gripped him¡ªguilt. It was like having swarm of flesh eating bugs at his insides, demanding he turn away from that portal, yet he could barely tear his gaze from it. His breaths came in shallow, ragged draws. He was alive because of his master''s quick actions and, though he was a system user, he hadn''t even used his trump card. A skill he had reserved for the worst case, hidden deep within him, an option he had hoped he would never have to use. His mind buzzed with indecision as he whispered to himself, "Should I... should I use it?" The words were barely a breath, and he clamped his mouth shut, as though speaking aloud might shatter the final slivers of his resolve. The portal flickered, and in its heart, he glimpsed a distant city street bathed in peaceful, golden light¡ªa quiet promise of respite. Then, as if to mock his hesitation, a faint chime echoed in his ears, chilling and unbidden: Ding! || Would you like to use the DEATH MONARCH STATE? || Song Woo-Ji froze, his mind spiraling as he felt the screen''s ominous glow settle before his vision. His fingers trembled, his thumb hovering over the choice, though he hesitated to press it. He drew in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. Below, in the heart of chaos, the monster horde leader was unstoppable as he surged forward, with a tidal wave of raw fury tearing across the buildings. He didn''t slow, even as the middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon stood defiantly in his path. Volk''s stride was unstoppable, each footfall sending seismic tremors through the earth that thundered with his approach. Explore stories on M-V-L THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! Bong Me-Eon and her master exchanged a single glance¡ªa pact formed in that one look. The middle-aged woman''s hand shot up, weaving intricate sigils in the air. As her fingers moved, pale green lights swirled, coalescing into a whip of necrotic energy that crackled through the air like a whip. CRACK! It lashed out, striking Volk across the chest with an explosive burst of dark magic. But Volk barely acknowledged it. With a growl of annoyance, "GRAAAAAARRGGHH!!" he swatted the spell aside, and the whip dispersed into harmless wisps that evaporated in the air. Bong Me-Eon wasn''t deterred. She spread her arms, summoning a rain of searing firebolts that burst around Volk like an inferno. Each impact shook the ground, casting plumes of flame that seemed to consume his massive form. But as the smoke cleared, Volk remained standing, his skin barely singed. He grinned, and there was a feral gleam of madness sparking in his eyes as he pressed forward, ignoring their spells like mere raindrops. Song Woo-Ji could see the fierce determination in his master''s movements, and yet, his fear festered. His gaze lingered on the safe street beyond the portal, the quiet life he could slip away into. But his master''s battle cries echoed across the battlefield, anchoring him in place. Then, the silence broke as Volk''s thunderous voice reverberated across the plains, sending chills down his spine. His words were guttural, deep, primal, each syllable laced with fury as he finally addressed the retreating pair. "YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE VOLK! YOU THINK HIDING IN SHADOWS SAVE YOU?" Volk''s voice boomed, his fists pounding against his chest with each declaration, sounding like massive drums. "VOLK WILL FIND YOU. EVEN IF YOU HIDE BEHIND MOUNTAINS, IN DEEPEST CAVES! VOLK WILL BURN VILLAGES, SMASH YOUR CASTLES, TURN YOUR FIELDS TO ASH!" The middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon exchanged a look, and she began to gather her energy again, casting another complex spell. Dark clouds rolled overhead, forming in response to her summoning. With a sweep of her hand, bolts of dark lightning rained down on Volk. KRA-KOOM! The lightning struck him square in the chest, sending waves of necrotic energy rippling across his body. Yet he pressed on, undeterred, his face twisted in a cruel smile as he shrugged off each blow with terrifying ease. His eyes narrowed, his attention snapping toward the distant figure of Song Woo-Ji. He raised his voice again, aiming it directly at the young system user as if sensing his fear. "AND YOU¡ªSYSTEM USER. YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE VOLK''S WRATH? I KNOW YOUR KIND! LITTLE MEN HIDING BEHIND THEIR TOYS! YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM VOOOOLK!!!" The words rattled Song Woo-Ji to his core. How did Volk know? How did he know he was a system user? The raw, venomous hatred in Volk''s voice slashed through Song Woo-Ji''s soul, ripping at the delicate veil of safety he had wrapped around himself. He stepped back instinctively, his body''s natural instinct for survival urging him to flee. But Volk wasn''t finished. He pointed toward the sky, his bellow echoing across the battlefield, louder than the thunder that rumbled above. "VOLK BREAK CITIES! TEAR DOWN TOWERS! VOLK TURN YOUR PEOPLE TO ASH, ONE BY ONE, UNTIL YOU HAVE NOWHERE LEFT TO HIDE FROM VOOOLK''S WRATH!!!" Bong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman fought to stop his approach, but it was no use. Every spell, every weapon, every shield they threw in his way crumbled under the relentless force of his might. He would brush their attacks aside or endure them, shrugging off blows that would have leveled armies. It was as though he were fueled by pure hatred, a walking storm that tore through everything in its path. And with every step closer he came, Song Woo-Ji''s resolve began to waver. He stared into the depths of the portal, a silent temptation calling him back to safety. But Volk''s voice haunted him, taunting, threatening, seething with the promise of destruction. He could see, in vivid clarity, the horrors that would follow if he ran¡ªhis homeland burning, innocents torn asunder, cities crumbling beneath the unstoppable wrath of this monster. Sweat poured down his face, his hands trembling as he clutched his weapon. His gaze flickered toward the portal again, and then back to the advancing figure of Volk, who smashed through the battlefield as if it were a mere playground. Then, Volk spoke again, his voice dripping with malice: "YOU CAN RUN, SYSTEM USER. BUT YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM VOLK FOREVER. VOLK WILL FIND EVERY CITY, EVERY LAND, UNTIL BREATHE LAST UNDER VOLK''S FOOT! VOLK WILL NOT REST. VOLK NOT STOP!" His final shout shook the heavens: "VOLK MUST END SYSTEM USER!" The threat was a sledgehammer against Song Woo-Ji''s final vestiges of doubt. He felt something shift within him, a steel resolve rising where fear had taken root. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and steadied himself. In that single moment of silence, he allowed himself to fully comprehend what stood before him¡ªa monster who would stop at nothing, a beast who would hunt him to the ends of the earth if he ran. Running meant condemning the innocent to Volk''s wrath. He knew that now. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His eyes snapped open, alight with determination. The portal still glowed faintly in his periphery, its invitation still there. But he did not turn toward it. His grip on his weapon tightened, and he looked out over the battlefield where his master fought valiantly to buy him time. And now, his heart no longer wavered. The choice was made. Volk continued to storm forward, unaware of the newfound resolve building within Song Woo-Ji. This time, as he watched Volk, it was not with fear but with grim resolve. The decision was made. He would stand and fight. Chapter 163: Capture Amidst the battlefield''s chaos, Volk''s towering form loomed like a dark monolith, standing impervious and unyielding.His bellowing laughter filled the air, mocking the desperation etched on his opponents'' faces. The middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon moved with unison born of years of training, flinging spell after spell at Volk, desperately trying to break through his hardened defenses. The ground trembled beneath them as each spell struck with resounding force, sending shards of rock and sparks of energy ricocheting around them. But for every inch they gained, Volk advanced two more, his massive frame absorbing their attacks with a chilling, unaffected resilience. The middle-aged woman gritted her teeth, pushing herself harder, feeling the strain claw at her energy reserves. Her voice rose above the din, "Sarcha Volfoareus!" chanting incantations that twisted the very air with darkness and eldritch light. Spectral chains emerged, coiling around Volk''s limbs in an attempt to bind him. Shadows coalesced into sharp-edged tendrils that shot toward him, seeking to pierce and hold. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Her hands blazed with fire, casting streaks of flame that spiraled and wove around her dark magic, forming a vicious storm aimed at the towering Orc leader. "DIE, BEAST!" she spat, her voice hoarse from the relentless chanting. The spellwork was flawless, every incantation precisely executed, yet Volk only laughed, a guttural sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. He moved with surprising agility for his massive frame, twisting his body to evade the worst of the flames. And as one spectral chain coiled around his arm, he jerked it forward, shattering it with brute force. His tusked grin grew, and his eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating malice as he glanced between the two mages, sizing them up like prey. Suddenly, with a maneuver that was almost too quick to track, Volk lunged, his massive arm sweeping across the battlefield in a brutal arc. Bong Me-Eon''s reflexes kicked in, her eyes widening as she barely managed to throw up a protective barrier. However, the sheer force of Volk''s attack cracked the barrier like glass, sending her stumbling back. Before she could react, his arm shot out, his fingers curling around her torso with an iron grip. A gasp of horror escaped her lips as she felt the unyielding pressure of his fingers closing in. Her heart pounded, fear clawing at her throat as she struggled in vain against his hold. The middle-aged woman''s eyes widened in alarm, her fierce expression breaking for the first time as she watched her disciple trapped in the clutches of the monstrous horde leader. Panic surged within her pumping blood vessels, a visceral, agonizing panic that spurred her into action. "Release her!" she roared, her voice laced with desperation. She unleashed another barrage of spells, each one crafted with deadly precision. Dark tendrils of energy lashed out, snapping at Volk''s arm, slicing through the air with crackling intensity. Bolts of necrotic fire burst forth from her hands, streaking toward his fingers in an attempt to sear them open. The air itself seemed to thicken with magic, every inch saturated with her raw fury and power. But Volk merely shifted Bong Me-Eon, holding her directly in front of him like a living shield. The middle-aged woman froze, her heart pounding as she realized her disciple was now in the line of fire. She faltered, her spells weakening mid-flight, dissipating into harmless sparks before they even touched Volk. "Clever girl," he sneered, his voice dripping with mocking contempt. He watched her struggle, relishing her anguish as she faltered, caught between her need to save Bong Me-Eon and the impossibility of attacking without endangering her. The middle-aged woman tried to muster another spell, but her energy was flagging. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her vision blurring at the edges. Stay updated via M-V-L She had pushed herself to the brink, expended nearly everything in her desperate attempt to free her disciple. Her shoulders sagged, and a cold, sinking realization crept into her chest. Volk''s laughter echoed again, deep and thunderous. He looked down at Bong Me-Eon, his grin widening as he leaned closer, his breath hot and foul against her face. The cruel glint in his eyes spoke of the pain he was about to inflict, the utter disregard for her life as nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game. He turned his gaze back to the middle-aged woman, and with a voice dripping with malice, he taunted her. "WHAT IF¡­" he growled, drawing out each word, savoring the dread in her eyes. "WHAT IF VOLK PINCHED HER?" The threat hung heavy in the air, sending a cold chill down the middle-aged woman''s spine. She could only watch, helpless, as Volk''s fingers began to close, his grip tightening around Bong Me-Eon''s fragile form. Bong Me-Eon''s face contorted in agony, her breaths coming in short, pained gasps as she felt the pressure build. Her ribs creaked under the strain, each breath a struggle as the vise around her tightened. The middle-aged woman staggered forward, her hands trembling as she tried to summon something, anything, that could save her disciple. However, the world around her was spinning, her energy drained, her strength nearly spent. She could only watch, horror-stricken, as Volk''s fingers pressed down, inching ever closer to crushing the life from Bong Me-Eon. And then¡ª SHRAK! A searing darkness cleaved through the battlefield, slicing through Volk''s wrist with surgical precision. The impact was immediate, a violent flash of black energy that seemed to eat away at his flesh, as though death itself had materialized to sever his grasp. His hand, still clutching Bong Me-Eon, separated from his arm, tumbling through the air before crashing to the ground. Bong Me-Eon collapsed as Volk''s grip released her, her body wracked with pain but free. She scrambled back, gasping, her hands instinctively clutching her bruised ribs. The middle-aged woman rushed to her side, pulling her back further as she held her tightly, her face a mask of worry and relief. Volk staggered back, his severed arm a ghastly sight, black blood pouring from the stump in thick, steaming rivulets that scorched the earth below. His face twisted into a snarl, his eyes blazing with a wrath that was both fierce and unrestrained. GRRRRRRR!! He clutched his stump, letting out a bellow of rage that resonated through the battlefield, a cry of pain and fury that seemed to shake the heavens. "WHO DARE ATTACK VOLK?!" Chapter 164: DEATH MONARCH The city loomed in shambles, a smog of death hanging over it like a thick shroud, curling through shattered alleyways and creeping up crumbling walls.The air was heavy with decay, each breath pulling in the rotten stench of the battlefield. And then, in the heart of this carnage, it emerged¡ªa towering figure that seemed to crawl up from the deepest pits of some forsaken abyss. Its skin was a diseased shade of green, stretched taut over its grotesque form, mottled with dark, oily patches of rot that oozed a sickly black ichor. This monstrous undead stood impossibly tall, casting a massive, warped shadow over the surrounding ruins. Its limbs were twisted and unnaturally elongated, ending in skeletal, clawed fingers that scraped and gouged at the earth with each heavy step. Jagged pieces of bone jutted out from beneath its flesh, tearing through the green, necrotic skin in places as though it were barely containing the malignancy festering within. The most horrifying feature was the creature''s head. At the center of its forehead, a single, twisted horn spiral outward, black as midnight and ridged with sharp, jagged edges. Its mouth, filled with rows of broken, rotten teeth, hung open in a perpetual gape. Drool, thick and foul, dripped from its maw, sizzling as it hit the ground with an audible hiss. The creature''s eyes¡ªif they could even be called that¡ªwere hollow pits, deep wells of blackness that seemed to devour the faintest hint of light. Suddenly, its mouth opened wider, the sound a sickening, wet SQUELCH that cut through the city''s silence. From the depths of its throat, a vortex of greenish death energy began to swirl. The air around it seemed to ripple as waves of decay poured into its open mouth from every corner of the city. The energy was drawn from the corpses scattered across the battlefield, seeping out of the ground and the bodies like a rising tide. A thick mist of sickly green and black pooled, spiraling into the creature''s maw, condensing into a writhing orb that pulsed with malice. Then came Volk. He stood massive and hulking, his muscles knotted and bulging with unrestrained power. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the undead abomination before him. This creature wasn''t one of his own. He didn''t recognize it¡ªhe didn''t care to. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. All he knew was that it dared to stand against him. His recently regrown hand flexed, thick sinews straining, and with a low, rumbling growl, he threw himself at the beast, his feet thundering against the ground as he charged. With a guttural roar, "GRAAAAAAA!!" Volk swung his arm like a hammer, aiming to crush the creature into dust. His fist collided with the undead''s chest, KABAAAMM!! and for a moment, the creature staggered, its form shuddering under the blow. However, just as quickly, its head snapped down, those hollow, pitiless eyes staring directly at Volk. The creature opened its mouth wide, and with a revolting GULP, it released a concentrated blast of decaying energy right in his face. FWOOOOOM! The blast hit Volk like a tidal wave, a seething eruption of decay that slammed into him with the force of a boulder, sending him skidding backward. His skin seared under the assault, melting and peeling away in patches. But even as the necrotic energy tore into his flesh, Volk''s body shuddered and mended itself, muscle fibers knitting back together with a painful, twisted resilience. Snarling, Volk lurched forward, undeterred. He hurled himself at the creature again, his massive hands swinging and smashing in an unrelenting barrage. WHAM! CRACK! THUD! His fists landed over and over, each strike reverberating through the broken streets like distant thunder. Yet, every time Volk managed to land a blow, the creature countered with a fresh surge of decaying energy, splattering him with waves of toxic, festering rot. The creature lashed out with one of its long, bony arms, the skeletal claws slicing through the air. Volk barely dodged, but the claws still managed to rake across his shoulder, tearing deep gouges into his flesh. He grunted, biting back the pain as he twisted, bringing his elbow down like a sledgehammer onto the creature''s arm. A sickening CRUNCH echoed as the bone shattered under his blow. But the creature only shuddered, and its fractured arm seemed to realign itself, the bones shifting back into place with a wet, snapping sound. Before he could react, the undead opened its mouth once more, its jaws widening far beyond natural limits. Another orb of death energy gathered, pulsing with a sickly green light, condensing until it was almost blinding. Volk''s eyes widened as the orb swelled, knowing he had no time to dodge. BOOOOM! The blast hit him full-force, sending him flying back, tumbling through the air before he crashed into a crumbling building. Rubble collapsed around him as he staggered to his feet, his skin already mending but his patience wearing thin. Rage twisted across Volk''s face, his chest heaving as he fixed his gaze on the undead monster. He let out a deafening roar, GRRAAAAAAAHH!!! his voice filled with fury as he charged once more. Each time he approached, each time he swung, the creature would counter, blasting him with concentrated blasts of decaying energy. FWASH! BOOM! KRASH! His body was wracked with the relentless assault, chunks of his skin burned and torn away, only to regenerate moments later. His roars grew louder, more feral, as his frustration mounted. Every blow he landed seemed to have little effect, every strike met with another debilitating blast that left him battered, raw, yet still standing. Realization crept in slowly, a gnawing feeling that gripped Volk as he observed the creature''s attacks. It was sparing the two women who lingered nearby, ignoring their presence entirely. This thing¡ªthis abomination¡ªwas not here for them. It was targeting him, focusing all its malice on him alone. And then the pieces began to fall into place, like fractured shards of memory piecing back together. A twisted grin spread across Volk''s face, his fangs glinting under the sickly light cast by the creature''s death energy. His chest swelled as he let out a booming, mocking laugh that echoed across the battlefield. "SYSTEM USER..." he growled, his voice dripping with contempt. "YOU... MAKING VOLK... ANGRY!" The undead abomination paused, as though the words struck something deep within its hollow, soulless form. Chapter 165: VOLK, STRATEGY Volk''s angry laughter thundered through the smog-drenched battlefield, "GRUAHHAHAHAHA!" rolling through the ruins and broken streets like an unholy drumbeat.His eyes gleamed with a twisted, feral satisfaction as he tracked his target. The two women¡ªBong Me-Eon and her master¡ªdashed through the debris, casting occasional glances over their shoulders as they wove through crumbling alleys and deserted buildings. But Volk didn''t lose sight of them. His towering form barreled forward, his heavy footfalls smashing the cracked earth beneath him, each stride sending shockwaves through the ground. He was relentless, a predator locked onto his prey, and every monstrous fiber in his being was fixed on catching up to them. Behind him, the undead abomination still loomed. Its empty eye sockets remained locked onto him, emitting an eerie greenish glow that seethed with decaying magic. As Volk surged after the women, the creature began to move, its limbs creaking and groaning as though they were about to snap. It lifted a skeletal, clawed arm, and the air around its hand began to shimmer with condensed, sickly green energy. The monster aimed and unleashed a torrent of magical death beams, one after another, the blasts ripping through the ruined cityscape, tearing apart stone walls and sending waves of rubble crashing down. FWOOOOOSH! KA-BOOOM! ZAAAAP! Each beam was a concentrated lance of decaying energy, a weapon that could have obliterated any lesser being. Volk felt the searing heat of the blasts as he narrowly evaded them, his attention still locked on the two fleeing figures. Bong Me-Eon and her master raced through a narrow alley, their breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. They shared a silent glance, both realizing their situation was dire. But as they turned another corner, the undead creature suddenly ceased its assault on Volk, halting its barrage of deadly beams. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Its hollow gaze shifted, narrowing in a gesture that was almost contemplative. It was waiting. Volk''s bloodlust flared even hotter as he skidded to a halt. His eyes locked onto the creature, a dark grin twisting his lips. He had finally closed the distance. No more obstacles¡ªjust him and the abomination that dared to challenge him. With a bestial roar, "GRAAAAAAHH!!!" Volk launched himself at the undead monstrosity, his massive fists raised. He swung with all his might, his hand crashing into the creature''s side with the force of a boulder. BOOOOM! The impact was earth-shattering, and the ground beneath them cracked and trembled, sending spider-web fractures sprawling outward. The creature staggered, its decayed body shuddering under the force of Volk''s blow. But as it regained its footing, it unleashed a guttural, hollow hiss, its mouth opening in an unnatural, yawning gape. A fresh surge of death energy erupted from its maw, barreling toward Volk like a tidal wave of decay. FWOOOOOSH! The blast enveloped Volk, wrapping around him in an acidic storm of corrosive energy. His skin blistered, and chunks of flesh melted away, but within moments, his body began to heal, the torn skin and exposed muscle knitting back together in an agonizing process. Undeterred, Volk charged through the blast, emerging from the deadly haze with an enraged bellow. He swung his fists, striking the creature in the ribs with a thunderous blow that sent it reeling back. THUD! CRACK! Bones splintered under his assault, and chunks of rotting flesh sloughed off, revealing patches of exposed bone beneath. The creature retaliated, lifting both of its elongated, skeletal arms and bringing them down in a vicious arc. WHAM! The impact was like a battering ram, slamming into Volk''s shoulders and forcing him to his knees. But he grit his teeth, his muscles bulging as he pushed back against the creature''s weight, slowly rising to his feet even as the undead abomination pressed down with all its might. With a feral snarl, Volk twisted to the side, grabbing hold of one of the creature''s bony arms. He gave a mighty heave, ripping the arm clean off with a sickening CRUNCH. Black ichor spurted from the torn limb, spraying across Volk''s face as he swung the detached arm like a club, battering the creature with its own appendage. SMASH! CRACK! The blows landed with brutal precision, each strike further tearing away at the abomination''s decayed form. But the creature was relentless. It opened its maw wide, and an orb of concentrated death energy began to form, swirling with sickly green and black hues. The orb grew larger, pulsating with raw malice, and with a violent FWOOSH, it shot forward, a condensed missile of necrotic energy aimed straight at Volk''s chest. The blast hit him head-on, the impact sending him flying backward as the searing energy ate away at his flesh. He landed in a heap, his body smoking and scorched, but even as he struggled to rise, his regenerative abilities kicked in, knitting his wounds back together with painful, unnatural speed. Volk pushed himself to his feet, his vision blurring with rage. He could feel his own heartbeat pounding in his skull, a primal rhythm that fueled his anger. With another roar, he charged again, his fists swinging in a brutal flurry of blows. WHAM! BAM! THUD! Each strike was like a hammer, smashing into the creature''s twisted form with relentless force. Chunks of flesh and bone flew with each impact, littering the ground around them. Volk''s strikes grew faster, more frenzied, his muscles straining as he poured every ounce of his strength into the assault. However, no matter how much he tore away, the creature seemed unyielding, its form shifting and reassembling with each blow, as though it were nothing more than a puppet held together by pure malice. The two combatants were locked in a gruesome dance of destruction, each blow they traded sending shockwaves through the ruined cityscape. Buildings crumbled under the impact, debris raining down around them as they clashed in a storm of death and fury. The ground trembled beneath their feet, fissures spreading outward from the sheer force of their battle. And then, as Volk landed a particularly vicious uppercut, the creature staggered back, its twisted form faltering. Its empty gaze flickered, a faint hint of desperation seeping into its hollow eyes. It let out a low, guttural growl, a sound that seemed to resonate with a primal malice. Its maw stretched wide, wider than before, until its entire body seemed to contort, reshaping itself in a horrifying transformation. In a split second, the creature lunged, its mouth gaping as it descended upon Bong Me-Eon and her master. The two women had barely a moment to react, their eyes widening in horror as the creature''s jaws closed around them, swallowing them whole in a single, grotesque motion. GLUUUURP! Volk froze, his fists still raised mid-swing. His eyes narrowed as he watched the creature, a low, furious growl rumbling from deep within his chest. The realization sank in, a fresh wave of anger coursing through him as he stared at the abomination that had dared to consume his prey. "GRAAAAAAHH!!" Chapter 166: Revelation Inside the rancid, pulsing belly of the massive zombie, Bong Me-Eon and her master, the middle-aged woman, staggered as the ground beneath them throbbed with unnatural life.Faint greenish light seeped through fleshy veins, illuminating their path in the monstrous tunnel. A mixture of shock and awe rippled across Bong Me-Eon''s face, while her master''s expression was more guarded, her eyes narrowing in grim determination as she took in their surroundings. Just as they were catching their breath, their gazes locked onto an unexpected sight: there, seated within a dense cocoon of necrotic energy, was Song Woo-Ji. His face was taut with focus, eyes half-lidded but blazing with intent as he maneuvered his hands, guiding the creature''s every move from the inside. The two women shared a glance, silently agreeing not to disturb him. Instead, they exchanged whispered words as they watched him, their voices barely audible over the grotesque, wet sounds of the zombie''s moving entrails. "How¡­" The middle-aged woman''s whisper was barely controlled, trembling with shock. "Bong Me-Eon, you never told me your disciple could wield this kind of power." Bong Me-Eon, stunned herself, stammered, "Grandmaster¡­ I-I didn''t know he was capable of this. Truly." The older woman raised a brow, skepticism laced with curiosity. "You don''t know your own disciple''s abilities?" Bong Me-Eon bit her lip, her eyes flickering back to Song Woo-Ji, who appeared completely absorbed, his attention unyielding as he maintained his mental link with the undead behemoth. "It''s¡­ complicated," she murmured, glancing away from Song Woo-Ji and back to her master. Her master crossed her arms, not breaking her intense gaze. "You keep calling him a disciple, yet here he is, harnessing death magic of a caliber that only a handful of us, even among the highest ranks, can even hope to wield. I assumed you''d have picked a disciple with potential. But this... this is beyond mere potential." Bong Me-Eon nodded, hesitating before responding, "I suppose it''s¡­ unusual, yes. I never intended to take on a disciple like him." The older woman''s expression softened slightly, but her scrutiny remained. "Tell me, how did you come by him? A talent like this doesn''t simply materialize." Taking a deep breath, Bong Me-Eon began to recount their first meeting. "It was months ago, during an expedition outside the city boundaries. We were tracking a powerful undead lich, one who was terrorizing villages and leaving devastation in their wake. My team was worn down from days of searching¡­ and then we found him." She paused, recalling the harrowing memory. "Song Woo-Ji appeared out of nowhere, battered and bruised, but his eyes¡­ there was something different in them. Determined. Unyielding. He approached our group, asking for assistance. "But instead of pleading for help, he offered information. Information only someone intimately acquainted with death magic could have known. I was wary, of course. But he¡­ he was compelling." The older woman''s brows knit together, her gaze never leaving Bong Me-Eon. "And this persuaded you to train him? A stranger steeped in death magic?" "Not immediately," Bong Me-Eon admitted. "He wasn''t just any wanderer. There was a depth to him, a knowledge that went beyond simple arcane skill. He''d clearly been through hardships of his own, scars that went deeper than what the eye could see. I couldn''t just turn him away." A long silence followed, broken only by the rumble of the zombie''s internal workings. The grandmaster crossed her arms, finally nodding slightly, a sign of approval or understanding that Bong Me-Eon hadn''t expected. "So, he intrigued you. That''s no small feat. But tell me, have you ever seen him in action like this? Seen him fully unleashed?" Bong Me-Eon shook her head, eyes wide as they flicked back to Song Woo-Ji. "No. Not until now. He was always more¡­ reserved. His power was something I sensed but couldn''t quite pin down." The grandmaster''s eyes narrowed again, assessing. "Perhaps his restraint is because he has something¡­ more. Something beyond even our understanding." "Perhaps," Bong Me-Eon whispered, a newfound respect in her voice as she watched Song Woo-Ji command the undead creature with a focus so intense, she felt she could practically feel the weight of his power radiating outward. They fell silent, watching Song Woo-Ji as he manipulated the massive zombie with a terrifying grace. His hands moved fluidly, each gesture sending a ripple of decay-fueled power through the creature''s massive frame. Outside, Volk roared, his voice echoing even within the creature''s belly, and they could feel the massive undead tremble under his assault. Suddenly, the zombie creature shuddered violently, and the two women stumbled as its hulking arm was blasted apart. They could hear Volk''s fury outside, the earth-shattering sound of his fist meeting decaying flesh, tearing through the creature''s limbs one by one. The older woman tensed, her hands instinctively moving to her weapons. "It won''t hold much longer," she murmured, eyes narrowing as she watched Song Woo-Ji, still deep in concentration, showing no sign of retreating. Bong Me-Eon whispered urgently to her master, "If we''re to escape¡­ we''ll need him to hear us." The older woman nodded and reached out to Song Woo-Ji, attempting to call his name, but it was like speaking to a wall. He was locked within his magic, every ounce of his will focused on maintaining the fight against Volk. As his concentration deepened, the very air inside the zombie grew denser with necrotic energy, waves of dark magic pulsing through its tissue. Bong Me-Eon tried again, louder this time. "Song Woo-Ji! Can you hear us?" Still, he did not respond, his gaze unfocused, a cold sweat breaking over his brow as he clenched his fists. They felt another jarring impact as Volk ripped through the creature''s shoulder, shattering what remained of its decayed muscle and bone. The older woman glanced at Bong Me-Eon, worry etched across her face. "If he doesn''t respond soon, this entire form will crumble, and we''ll be exposed." Just then, a low sigh escaped from Song Woo-Ji, a sound of exhaustion as he tightened his grip on the energy that held the undead together. Bong Me-Eon, with newfound urgency, reached out, speaking directly to him, her voice steady but full of concern. "Song Woo-Ji! Look at us!" At last, her voice seemed to reach him. His eyes flickered, breaking from their trance-like focus, and he slowly turned to face them, surprise and confusion dawning on his features as he took in the sight of his master and the grandmaster beside her. "Master... Grandmaster..." His voice was weary, laced with the weight of the battle he was waging outside. Bong Me-Eon took a deep breath, relief flooding her face. "Song Woo-Ji, we''ve been here the whole time. This... this power you''re wielding. It''s incredible, but we need you to stay with us. If this creature falls apart, we need to be ready to escape." S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The older woman nodded, adding her own words of caution. "Your power is formidable, but remember, the monster Horde leader is relentless. Use this time wisely and if we can help, tell us." Song Woo-Ji''s eyes hardened, his expression shifting to one of fierce resolve as he looked from his master to the grandmaster. Then, turning back toward the pulsing energy outside, he readied himself, gathering what remained of his strength to face the inevitable clash with the monster horde leader. Chapter 167: Song Woo-Jis decision In the cavernous, pulsating chamber of decaying flesh, Song Woo-Ji''s voice, though strained, broke through the oppressive silence.He inclined his head respectfully toward his master and the grandmaster, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Exhaustion lined his face, but his eyes burned with a determination that neither Bong Me-Eon nor her master had seen before. "This¡­ form," he began, voice wavering slightly as if even speaking required immense effort, "it''s temporary." He winced, bracing himself against a throbbing vein-like structure that pulsed with a sickly green light. "I can''t hold this connection for long. We need to act, and fast. I''ll need your assistance¡­ if we''re going to subdue that monster outside." Bong Me-Eon and the grandmaster exchanged a glance, their faces hardened but hopeful. They waited, ready to hear him out. Song Woo-Ji drew a ragged breath, struggling to keep his voice steady as he outlined the plan. "There are¡­ four strategies. Each one is risky. Each one requires both of you to attack the monster horde leader from the outside while I tear open the flesh of this zombie to give you a clear shot. We have to disrupt his focus, slow him down. Even if it''s just for a moment." The grandmaster frowned, her gaze steely. "Tell us the strategies, Song Woo-Ji. We need specifics." He nodded, gathering his strength, and launched into his explanations, voice faltering but resolute. "First, I''ll create an opening at the ribcage," he said, gesturing toward a faint outline in the decayed flesh where ribs lay beneath. "I''ll split the ribs wide open. Both of you¡ªsend out necromantic pulses into his head. It won''t harm him, but it''ll throw him off. It''s a distraction. And I can use that distraction to regain some control." They nodded, following every word, their expressions set and serious. "For the second," he continued, "I''ll open the chest cavity. A wider space. When I do, focus your spells on his left eye. It''s his weak spot. But only for a moment. He''ll recover quickly, but that moment will give me the chance to reinforce the control spell on this avatar." He paused, his hand trembling. "And the third¡­ I''ll create an exit in the stomach. A rupture. You two will need to attack his right leg¡ªweakening his stance. That will disrupt his balance, and he''ll be easier to destabilize. If it works, I can leverage that instability to make this avatar strike him with all I''ve got." Bong Me-Eon raised an eyebrow, assessing the complexity of the strategy, but nodded. The grandmaster''s face was impassive, unyielding. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Song Woo-Ji took another breath, wincing as the exhaustion threatened to overtake him. "Finally¡­ the fourth. I''ll open up the spine. It''ll leave me vulnerable, and I might lose all control over the avatar at that point. "But if you both target his lower back¡ªhis spinal column¡ªI think we can force him to lose momentum. I might be able to contain him here, even if it''s only for a moment." The two women exchanged looks, their respect for him deepening with every word. Once he finished, he closed his eyes for a second, a faint tremor passing over his exhausted face. Then, he opened them again and spoke with the same weighty gravity. "There''s one more thing you need to know¡­ When my transformation reaches its final stage, my body will turn a sickly yellow-green. That''s your cue¡­ to leave." Bong Me-Eon''s eyes widened, confusion and worry mingling on her face. "Why, Song Woo-Ji? We can hold out. We''ve come this far." The grandmaster''s face was just as surprised, her expression hinting at an unspoken dread. "Explain, Song Woo-Ji. Why should we leave?" He hesitated, his gaze dropping. Then, he spoke, voice dropping to a hushed, almost haunted tone. "Because¡­ I will lose control. Entirely. I am using a spell¡ªone that calls forth an ancient spirit bound to this magic, to this very corpse. A spirit cursed to roam between life and death. It is as old as the darkest magics¡­ and it''s dangerous." The room fell silent. The pulsing of the creature''s flesh seemed louder, more ominous. Song Woo-Ji swallowed hard, continuing with difficulty, "Once the transformation is complete, the spirit will take over me. It''s not just an energy I''m channeling. This thing will bind with my mind and body. "It will turn me into something else, something ravenous. Its purpose is purely destruction, and it won''t differentiate between friend and foe." Bong Me-Eon''s heart hammered in her chest. Her voice was barely a whisper. "So¡­ you''re saying you''ll be possessed?" "Yes," he replied quietly. "Completely. Once my skin changes color, I will lose myself to it. I''ll¡­ I''ll become a threat to anyone within range, anyone in sight." His gaze flicked between the two of them. "And I won''t be able to stop it. It will only end when either the spirit is purged or¡­ when my body collapses under its own power." The grandmaster''s face was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of reluctant understanding. "This ancient spirit¡­ is it bound to some artifact or spell?" Song Woo-Ji nodded. "It''s bound by a seal. Something I discovered long ago. It''s an old relic¡ªone that promises unimaginable power in exchange for submission to its curse. "This form I''m controlling is part of that curse¡ªa leftover power and if I lose control, it will be because I''ve drawn too deeply from its magic." Bong Me-Eon clenched her fists, a wave of worry flooding her. She couldn''t fathom how much of this weight her disciple had been carrying alone. Yet as she watched him, so composed and determined even while explaining this dark curse, she knew he was prepared for whatever fate awaited him. The grandmaster nodded slowly, her tone more serious than ever. "This spirit¡­ it feeds on rage and death, doesn''t it?" "Yes," Song Woo-Ji whispered, voice laced with the faintest edge of fear. "Once I''m possessed, it will be relentless. And it''s why¡­ if it comes to that¡­ you must leave, no matter what." A grim silence followed, and both women shared a silent understanding. They''d witnessed curses, faced spirits bound to ancient magics before, but this was different. They had no illusions about the depth of the sacrifice Song Woo-Ji was making in wielding this power. Bong Me-Eon''s eyes softened, though there was a glint of fierce pride. "Then we''ll leave if it comes to that, Song Woo-Ji. We understand the risks." The grandmaster nodded, her gaze sharpening with the same resolve. "We''ve seen warriors with spirits, seen battles that have tested our strength. But I''ve never seen anyone command a force like this with such resilience." She paused, meeting his gaze. "Just know that we will honor your sacrifice¡­ and if this curse consumes you, we''ll find a way to free you. If it means hunting down this spirit for centuries, we will." Song Woo-Ji''s expression softened, grateful but burdened with the knowledge of what lay ahead. He lowered his head, a slight, exhausted smile breaking through. "Thank you¡­ Grandmaster¡­ Master." His voice was heavy with the weight of his words. "Let''s¡­ let''s see this through." They exchanged one final look, determination and trust radiating from all three. And then, without another word, Song Woo-Ji took a deep breath, fingers beginning to glow with a faint, deadly energy. His skin had already started to pale, a faint greenish tint creeping into his complexion as he prepared for the final stage. "Let''s go," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the battle ahead. "Let''s deal with that disgusting green ogre." Chapter 168: Beatdown The battlefield echoed with the roars and chaos of a one-sided onslaught.Volk, towering and monstrous, reveled in the destruction as he tore chunks from the undead behemoth before him. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His bulging muscles twisted and flexed with each savage strike, his skin glistening with a sickly sheen of sweat and grime as he pushed forward, his primal rage exploding into each blow. "GRAAAAAHHH!" Volk''s guttural scream boomed out, shaking the ground beneath him as his fist connected with the massive arm of the zombie. With a sickening crack, the limb was torn free, black ichor spraying from the gaping wound like a fountain of decay. The fetid stench intensified, mixing with the sulfurous aroma of Volk''s own sweat, creating a nauseating aura that clung to the air. The giant zombie staggered back slightly, a momentary shudder in its massive form. Volk grinned wildly, his yellowed tusks bared as he prepared to lunge again. "OGRAAA!" he snarled, plunging forward, raising his fist high to smash the creature''s skull. His muscles tensed, veins popping like darkened cords against his thick skin as he prepared the next brutal blow. But then, as if in answer to his relentless aggression, the rotting flesh around the zombie''s stomach began to shift and swell. Blackened, decaying tendrils twisted and coiled over the surface, stretching as if something inside was desperately clawing its way out. The flesh tore open, revealing two gaping, oozing wounds. Dark bile seeped out, dribbling like thick tar over the creature''s abdomen. Volk paused, caught off guard by the sight of two familiar silhouettes emerging from within the disgusting openings. The middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon stepped forward, the fetid stench swirling around them like a cloak. Their eyes burned with a deadly resolve, and before Volk could react, both unleashed a powerful surge of necromantic energy, spirals of dark light whipping forward with a fierce, otherworldly glow. "Vra''khael Tenevos!" A familiar incantation shot through the air swiftly that sliced the very air that Volk was with. From her outstretched hand, shadows condensed into a spear of swirling darkness, sharp as an obsidian blade, and launched toward Volk. It struck the corner of his, the impact rippling through his armor-like skin on the face and embedding with an eerie, sickening hiss of cut. A pulse of necrotic energy spread through the half of his face, tendrils of darkness clawing at his essence, but he growled, GRAAAAH! regenerating and removing the curse within it instantly! Another one shot through as an unknown dark necromantic energy shot him down! "GRAAAAHHH!" Volk bellowed, stumbling backward. Though the dark energy barely scorched his thick, monstrous hide, it disrupted his rhythm, throwing him off balance. He raised his arm to shield himself, snarling in fury. The zombie seized this brief opening. With a creak of decayed sinew and bone, its remaining arm swung in a swift, brutal arc. WHAM! The impact sent Volk sprawling backward, his massive frame slamming into the ground with a force that shook the battlefield. "GRRRRAAAAAA!" Volk roared, the earth cracking beneath him as he forced himself to his feet, fury blazing in his red-rimmed eyes. He charged forward again, fists clenched, teeth bared in a predatory grin as he prepared to pummel the giant zombie once more. Yet, just as he closed the distance, the zombie''s grotesque torso contorted again. Another revolting tear opened, and the two women emerged once more, their hands glowing with the dark essence of necromantic magic. "Zhrak''tul Morthos!" "Kal''vyr Nox''ara!" "Vael''thra Umbros!" "Thrael''kar Sombreus!" "Nyr''vak Arkanis!" "Dhrav''ek Nethoros!" "Vhlar''kael Erevos!" "Myrr''gath Necros!" "Vorth''kal Tenebrus!" They launched another barrage of spells at him, each bolt of energy a twisted, writhing mass of shadows that disoriented him. "GRRRRRAHHH!" Volk bellowed, swinging his arm wildly, trying to dispel the dark magic that clung to him like a swarm of angry wasps. But the spells created enough of a distraction that the zombie''s arm whipped out again, hitting him squarely in the chest with a force that sent him careening backward. CRASH! Volk''s massive body skidded across the rocky ground, furrows of dust and debris flying up in his wake as he ground to a halt, barely avoiding a jagged rock by mere inches. "OGRAAA!" he screamed in rage, pushing himself up. Every inch of his muscles screamed with fury as he charged forward, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked. He lunged at the zombie again, launching himself with ferocity that seemed impossible for a creature of his size. But as he closed in, he felt a sharp prickling along his skin¡ªa warning, the faint pulse of necromantic magic brewing just ahead. From the zombie''s torn-open belly, the two women emerged once more, their hands raised, spells already forming at their fingertips. They launched another barrage, filling the air with dark, crackling energy. The blasts hit him with relentless precision, momentarily blinding him with their eerie glow. He stumbled, thrown off balance, and in that instant, the zombie''s remaining arm descended like a hammer. THUD! Volk barely had time to react before he was slammed into the ground, his bones rattling from the force of the blow. The impact reverberated through him, a bone-crunching force that would have shattered a lesser being. "GRAAAAHHH!" Volk''s scream of rage filled the air as he scrambled to his feet once more. His body regenerated rapidly, but each strike and each spell left him slower, more vulnerable, his fury growing with each punishing blow. He was unrelenting, however, his bloodlust fueling him as he charged again, fists swinging wildly as he attacked with every ounce of strength he could muster. Yet the zombie matched him, blow for blow. GRAAAAAAHH He screamed in frustration. Each time Volk advanced, the two women would reappear, launching another spell to throw him off balance. "Akhr''mar Shadros!" The zombie would strike again, its rotting, misshapen limbs landing with precision, forcing him back time and again. Finally, Volk stopped, breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he staggered, his skin bruised and cracked, blood trickling from various wounds. His muscles ached, a deep, throbbing pain that gnawed at his endurance. His regeneration was slowing, and for the first time, he felt a trace of exhaustion. But his rage... it only grew. "RRRRAAAHHH!" he roared, shaking with anger, his fist slamming into the ground, cracking the stone beneath him. He glared at the zombie, hatred burning in his gaze as he snarled. His breaths came in heavy, ragged pants as he wracked his mind, desperate to find a way to turn the tide. Then, over the cacophony of the battle, a sound cut through the haze of fury clouding his mind¡ªa deep, guttural call from the distance. "WARCHIEF!" Chapter 169: UNSHACKLED HORDE Volk turned, the bloodlust in his gaze fading momentarily as his eyes fell upon his horde¡ªa battalion of snarling orcs and brutish ogres, each one battle-scarred and fiercely loyal.The orcs stood tall, their green skin marred by the brutal marks of countless fights, muscles taut beneath rough armor. In their eyes, a fierce, unquenchable flame burned, a collective fire that flickered and danced as they took in the sight of the towering undead behemoth in front of their warchief. Volk''s heart thundered with pride. He thrust a massive fist into the air and bellowed, his voice rolling like thunder across the battlefield, "VOLK SMASH WITH HORDE!" The orcs and ogres raised their weapons high, snarling and roaring, a wave of primal fury surging through them. "HORDE IS WITH WARCHIEF!" they shouted, voices merging into one relentless war cry that shook the very earth. Then, Volk''s voice boomed once more, "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAAARRR!!!" At his rallying cry, the entire horde responded, their voices thundering across the field. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAAARRR!!!" Their weapons raised skyward, spears and swords glinting in the dim, deathly light, they readied themselves, muscles coiled, eyes blazing with savage determination. The war drums of the orcish horde pounded, and the ground trembled beneath their feet as they advanced, each step syncing with the furious beat. The undead monstrosity loomed before them, a mountain of rotting flesh and twisted sinew, with deathly energy pulsing from every tear and rip in its decayed body. And yet, the sight only seemed to fuel the orcs and ogres further, their screams of rage and loyalty piercing the air like arrows, sharpening their purpose to a razor''s edge. ¡­ Meanwhile, within the hulking zombie creature, Bong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman''s faces were twisted with horror and a rising dread. From their viewpoint inside the creature''s dark, putrid interior, they could see the massing of Volk''s horde below, their eyes locked on the massive undead they inhabited. The situation had gone from grim to dire in an instant. They exchanged glances, minds racing. The middle-aged woman clutched Bong Me-Eon''s arm, her voice tense and quiet. "This isn''t just about their Warchief now," she muttered, glancing toward the horde. "It''s about his entire tribe. Orcs and ogres¡­all of them bound to him, fighting for him." sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bong Me-Eon''s face twisted with a mix of anger and worry. "They''re here to help him destroy us, not to mention whatever else they''ll raze after this. He''s dangerous enough alone, but with an entire army¡ª" The middle-aged woman nodded grimly. "Yes, with his whole horde by his side, we can''t just¡­ We''ll have to consider him a threat beyond the beast he''s fighting. They''re rallying behind him, and that means every one of them will be a problem if he comes out of this alive." Bong Me-Eon took a shaky breath, her hand brushing against the cold, decaying walls surrounding them. "I always thought he was just another brute, another monster in a world full of them. But this¡ªthis is different. If he survives¡­he''ll have a tribe willing to tear down everything in their path to honor him." The middle-aged woman''s eyes narrowed as she looked at the roaring horde outside. "We need to stop him here, end this, or we''ll be dealing with more than just a horde of mindless beasts. We''ll be facing a unified army of ruthless warriors¡ªand Warchief at the helm." But before they could decide their next move, the walls around them shuddered violently. The undead creature jerked as something tore through its rotting limbs. Both women clung to the slick, sickly flesh, struggling to maintain their footing. Bong Me-Eon glanced up, horror deepening. "They''re attacking," she whispered, the realization dawning on her. "We''re out of time." As the flesh around them began to tear, they exchanged a determined look, preparing themselves for the onslaught to come. Outside, the horde surged forward, their eyes locked on the monstrous undead that hid their allies within, ready to tear it down, piece by piece. Below, the battlefield was chaos itself. The massive undead creature, towering like a twisted giant, stood as a nightmarish colossus amidst Volk''s horde. The rotting flesh of the creature dripped and hung like overgrown moss, decayed and peeling, emitting a noxious stench that filled the battlefield. The creature moved in monstrous, lumbering strides, each step shaking the earth, its hollow eyes fixed on the swarm of orcs and ogres who charged toward it like wolves and bears thirsting for blood. The orcs, wild-eyed and howling with fury, hurled themselves at the beast, their cries cutting through the battlefield like the shrieks of raptors. "GRAAAAAAH!" "FOR THE HORDE!" "DESTROY IT!" Their voices melded into a deafening roar, each one a war cry that drove them forward with feral determination. Ogres, the largest and most muscular of Volk''s horde, bellowed with guttural growls, barreling into the undead monstrosity''s legs like battering rams. They swung crude clubs and thick spears, their weapons colliding with bone and rotting flesh with sickening cracks and wet thuds. However, the zombie fought back with an equally horrifying intensity. Its enormous, decayed hands swept through the horde, each swing a maelstrom of death that sent orcs and ogres flying, crushed or mangled under the weight of its rotting fists. A lone orc leapt onto the zombie''s ankle, climbing with a snarl as he dug his blade into the decayed flesh. With a furious twist, he hacked away at the sinew, carving deep into the rotting muscle until a sickening squelch echoed out, followed by the creature''s groan¡ªa deep, haunting wail that seemed to shake the very air. Yet before he could make another move, a powerful backhand from the beast sent him hurtling through the air, his body landing with a bone-snapping crunch far from the others. Despite the devastating blows they took, the horde fought on, reckless and relentless, howling their war cries into the haze of decay. The ogres, roaring like primal beasts, rushed in groups, slamming their entire bodies against the creature''s legs. One particularly massive ogre, his eyes wild with bloodlust, charged the creature''s knee with a giant stone hammer. KABAAAM! The impact sent tremors up the zombie''s towering frame, causing it to momentarily stumble. However, before the ogre could raise his hammer again, a jagged death beam erupted from the zombie''s gaping mouth, piercing through the ogre''s chest and reducing him to nothing but ashes. Volk watched from a distance, his own heart pounding as he took in the sight of his warriors fighting like he had never seen before. Every death was answered by more furious charges, each fallen orc or ogre seeming only to fuel the rage of the others. For the first time, they fought without reservation, with no fear of magic, no reluctance in the face of dark forces. His memories took him back to battles against Dark Elves and Warlocks, where the horde had always hesitated, their bloodline fear of magic breaking their spirits like enslavery and their creation just as much as the enemy''s spells broke their bones. Volk had always wondered if they would fight like this because his horde held a deep-seated fear, one buried in their very history: fear of the dark arts that had created them, that bound them to a fate they despised. To die in humiliation. But now¡­this fight was different. They hurled themselves into the fray as if death was nothing. The creature they faced wasn''t connected to their old fears; it was neither a warlock nor a dark elf. For once, they were free of that ancient fear, their primal spirits unleashed, wild and savage. And in that moment, Volk understood. His horde fought with a fury unbridled because they faced no echoes of their past. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, his blood burning with excitement. He closed his eyes, feeling the thrill of battle surge through him. His warriors¡ªhis tribe¡ªwere giving their all. The undead beast was crumbling under their onslaught, but still it fought back with a mindless rage, swinging and blasting death beams that disintegrated any in its path. Finally, Volk opened his eyes, the fire in his gaze fierce and blazing. With a mighty leap, he bounded forward, his massive frame crashing through the battlefield as he charged into the fray. He roared, a sound so thunderous that it echoed over the horde and the zombie alike. "VOLK WOULD NOW JOIN!" His voice boomed, shaking his warriors to their core. "SMASH THE SYSTEM USEEEEEEEER!" Chapter 170: What do we do, master? The horde screamed in response, rallying around him with renewed fury."LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAAR!" they shouted, raising their weapons to the sky, their voices rising to a fever pitch. They surged forward with Volk at the lead, a massive, unstoppable force crashing down upon the undead creature. Volk reached the beast''s massive leg, gripping the decayed, rotting flesh with his bare hands. His muscles bulged as he strained, digging his fingers into the creature''s leg before heaving with all his might. RIIIIIP! A chunk of the undead''s flesh tore away, falling to the ground with a wet, squelching sound. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He tossed it aside with a snarl, relishing the sight of the creature flinching under his assault. "GRAAAAAAAAH!" Volk bellowed, swinging his massive fists up and pounding into the beast''s torso. Each strike landed with the force of a landslide, the sound reverberating across the battlefield. He struck again and again, relentless, his fists coated in blackened gore, as chunks of rotted muscle and bone splintered under his assault. The zombie staggered, raising its arms in an attempt to defend itself, but Volk only roared louder, his fury mounting with each passing second. An orc beside him, wielding an enormous blade, swung at the creature''s shin with a fierce scream, carving deep into the decayed muscle. Beside him, an ogre hurled a stone the size of a boulder at the beast''s chest, smashing into it with a resounding BOOM! The zombie stumbled, its body barely holding itself together, as piece by piece, it was torn apart by Volk and his horde. But the creature was resilient, mindlessly driven to fight to its last, even as its body crumbled. With a guttural groan, it opened its mouth wide, unleashing another deadly beam that swept across the battlefield, searing through the ranks. Orcs and ogres dove to evade it, but some were caught, their screams mingling with the roar of battle as they fell to ashes. Yet Volk didn''t flinch. He lunged at the creature, grabbing hold of its massive arm. With a feral snarl, he heaved it back, wrenching it nearly out of its socket. The zombie staggered back, and in that instant, Volk''s horde swarmed it, hacking and tearing, desperate to bring it down. But still, the creature fought on, refusing to fall. As Volk roared again, he could feel something awaken within him¡ªit was getting stronger. He felt it course through him as he pressed on, blood pounding in his ears as he delivered strike after brutal strike. As he felt his horde rally around him, their war cries blending with his, Volk knew that in this moment, they were one relentless force, united by blood and battle. Suddenly, the stomach of the undead creature began to shift, the flesh peeling back in two sickening, slimy openings that oozed with decay. The disgusting sight made some of the warriors falter for a moment, the gruesome display shocking even the most hardened fighters. From within, two figures emerged¡ªBong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman, their silhouettes framed against the dark interior of the undead''s body. As soon as they broke free, they raised their hands and unleashed dark spells, waves of necromantic magic crashing into Volk''s face. Stunned, Volk grunted in surprise, momentarily blinded by the swirling, dark energy. It wasn''t enough to truly harm him, but it was a powerful distraction. Snarling, he shielded his eyes as the zombie''s severed arm reared back. With a thunderous CRACK, it smacked into him, sending him crashing across the battlefield. The ground shuddered under the force of his landing, dirt and rock erupting in a cloud around him. Volk stood slowly, the fury in his eyes like a blazing inferno. He gritted his teeth, growling low and deep, his muscles tense as he prepared to strike again. But just as he gathered his strength, his thoughts shifted to strategy. He knew he couldn''t win this with sheer brute force alone, not with the necromantic magic constantly disrupting him. He needed to outsmart this foe, but before he could plot his next move, he heard a familiar voice¡ªa voice filled with urgency. From across the field, his horde called to him, desperate and devoted. "WARCHIEF!" Volk turned his head toward the orc who screamed and saw him pointing at the giant zombie. Immediately, he looked back at the giant zombie and noticed that something was happening. The zombie''s mouth was open, oozing a strange red mist. Volk sneered. "SYSTEM USER!" ¡­ Inside the stomach of the giant zombie, Bong Me-Eon and her master, the middle-aged grandmaster necromancer, moved swiftly through the slimy, pulsing cavern of flesh. Rotting tendrils and oozing veins lined the interior walls, their sinister green glow casting eerie shadows across their faces. Both women raised their hands, chanting in perfect unison, calling upon ancient, forbidden spells as their voices echoed through the fleshy chamber. "Necros Mortis," Bong Me-Eon intoned, her voice barely more than a rasp. "Umbra Cadaveris," her master followed, her voice a deep, commanding tone that resonated with years of experience. As their dark spells flowed forth, ethereal chains of shadow and death spiraled out from their hands. Like spectral vines, the chains twisted through the zombie''s decaying interior, seeking out any orcs and ogres daring to climb up the creature''s legs. The spell took hold, and suddenly, the climbers were seized by an unseen force. The chains looped around their necks and limbs, pulling them back, their terrified grunts echoing outside the zombie''s massive frame. The magic drained them, slowing their movement as fear and exhaustion seeped into their bones. Bong Me-Eon''s breathing grew labored, her hands trembling as she pushed her magic to its limits. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her gaze shifted nervously to her master. They had sent a wave of necromantic magic across the battlefield, but there was no telling how long they could keep this up, especially against a relentless foe like Volk''s horde. "These orcs... they''re more resilient than we anticipated," Bong Me-Eon gasped, wiping her forehead. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Her master, equally drained, managed a grim nod. "Yes, I can sense their strength¡­ it''s unlike anything I''ve felt. Their spirits burn like flame¡ªunafraid, relentless." She paused, looking at the thickening strands of sinewy flesh around them as the zombie''s internal walls began to close. "But this¡­ this isn''t just resilience. There''s something more fueling them. Something old. Something¡­" She shook her head, her voice trailing off, and then gestured back at the closing wound with urgency. "The flesh is sealing us in again," Bong Me-Eon said, her voice tinged with panic. She took a shaky step forward, her face twisted in desperation. "If we stay inside too long, we''ll be cut off from helping to control this creature!" They exchanged an anxious look, realizing the gravity of their situation. The horde was coming in full force, and without their spells, the undead giant could very well fall beneath Volk''s relentless onslaught. "What do we do, Master?" Bong Me-Eon''s voice wavered. "If we leave, the giant will collapse under the sheer weight of their attacks. But if we stay¡­ it''s only a matter of time before we''re overrun, or worse, trapped completely." Chapter 171: Leave now, masters The grandmaster gritted her teeth, her sharp gaze darting around the grotesque chamber. She was silent, calculating, her mind racing through countless possibilities."We have a few options," she said slowly. "We could attempt a direct assault on Volk. If we pour every ounce of magic we have left into immobilizing him, perhaps we could buy time for the creature to recover." S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "But that''s risky!" Bong Me-Eon countered. "We''ve seen how resilient he is. Even our necromantic magic barely distracts him. And if we weaken ourselves that much, we might not have the strength to keep controlling the giant." Her master clenched her fists, frustration flickering in her eyes. "True. And any attempt to strike him directly could easily backfire if we miscalculate. But if we stay passive, our spells will fade, and the orcs will overwhelm this creature. They''re adapting too quickly to the necromantic chains¡­" "Then what if we try a counterattack on the horde itself?" Bong Me-Eon suggested, though her voice was tinged with doubt. "We could project illusions to confuse them, make them turn on one another. If they hesitate, even for a moment, that might be enough for us to regain control." The grandmaster''s eyes flickered with consideration, but she shook her head. "With their bloodlust, I doubt illusions alone would hold them off long enough." She paused, glancing at Bong Me-Eon. "But¡­ if we combined that with something tangible. A spell strong enough to damage, perhaps even annihilate a portion of the horde outright¡­" They both fell silent, considering the enormity of such an action. Bong Me-Eon''s hands clenched involuntarily at her sides, the desperation evident on her face. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "But that much power could tear this giant apart. We''re at a stalemate." They stood in silence, the squelching sound of closing flesh filling the air, as if the creature itself were growing impatient with their indecision. Bong Me-Eon''s gaze darted anxiously around the chamber. Her pulse thundered in her ears, and the weight of the choice before them pressed heavily on her chest. The options felt insurmountable¡ªany move they made could just as easily doom them as secure victory. "We need¡­ something unexpected," the grandmaster murmured, almost to herself. "Something Volk wouldn''t anticipate. If we can catch him off guard, even for a heartbeat¡­" They both racked their minds, but before they could voice another idea, a chilling movement caught their attention. From the depths of the grotesque, oozing walls, Song Woo-Ji''s suspended body twitched. His arms jerked, and his head rolled slightly to the side, his eyes half-closed but unseeing. Bong Me-Eon took an involuntary step back, a chill prickling down her spine. She glanced at her master, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Did¡­ did you see that?" Her master''s eyes were wide, her face tense with a mix of alarm and fascination. "He''s¡­ he''s responding," she whispered. "But to what?" They watched as Song Woo-Ji''s body twitched again, more violently this time. His fingers flexed, the skin of his hands stretching taut as veins pulsed dark beneath. The entire interior of the zombie seemed to hum, resonating with the strange energy emanating from his body. He was murmuring something under his breath, words neither of them could decipher, but the power in his tone sent a shiver down their spines. Bong Me-Eon''s breath hitched. "Master¡­ is he¡­ is he drawing energy from the horde''s souls?" The grandmaster''s face paled, and she swallowed hard. "It''s possible," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But if that''s true¡­ if he''s tapped into something so powerful that even we can feel it, then whatever magic he''s wielding might be beyond our understanding." Her eyes flickered to her disciple, her gaze softened with a rare expression of concern. "We need to make a decision, Bong Me-Eon. If we delay any longer, Song Woo-Ji could lose control. And if he does¡­ the magic inside him could be our undoing as much as it could be our salvation." Bong Me-Eon bit her lip, her mind a whirlwind of conflict. Her loyalty to her master was unwavering, but the reality of the situation was far graver than she''d anticipated. "What if... what if we could channel this energy? Use it to reinforce the creature from within? We''d gain a second wind¡ªmaybe enough to turn the tides. And we''d have him to counter horde''s brute force¡­" Her master considered it, her gaze fixed on Song Woo-Ji''s limp form, before shaking her head grimly. "Such power¡­ if he''s already unstable, trying to channel it further could overwhelm him. It could unleash chaos." As they deliberated, Song Woo-Ji''s body convulsed once more, and a whisper escaped his lips¡ªa sound that was neither plea nor command, but something otherworldly, ancient and resonant. The words cut through the air like a blade, sending a chill through the two women. The grandmaster swallowed, her voice a low murmur. "Then we have to decide quickly, for once he fully awakens, we might not get another chance." Within the throbbing, putrid cavern of undead flesh, the limp form of Song Woo-Ji began to tremble. At first, the motion was faint, a barely perceptible shiver rippling through his fingers and toes. Immediately, Bong Me-Eon turned her head and his gaze locked onto him, her pulse quickening as the tremor traveled up his arms, twitching erratically as though something ancient, something malignant, it was like clawing its way to the surface. The tremors intensified, spreading to his legs and torso, causing his entire body to convulse in strange, spasmodic rhythms. His skin, pale and drawn, began to darken, taking on a sickly, unnatural hue, as if every vessel in his body were filling with decay instead of blood. His veins pulsed and thickened beneath the skin, turning a dreadful shade of crimson that glowed with an unnatural luminescence. Each twitch seemed to draw out this red, venomous energy from deep within, oozing outwards like liquid death, saturating his body inch by inch. "Master¡­" Bong Me-Eon whispered. Beside her, her master''s expression had grown grave, her eyes narrowed as she assessed the transformation unraveling before them. Another violent twitch shot through Song Woo-Ji''s body, jerking his head back as if an unseen force were wrenching him towards some invisible destination. His mouth hung open, and though no sound escaped his lips, his body seemed to radiate a tangible, palpable darkness. The air around him thickened, like a mist laced with the scent of rot and decay, a cloud so oppressive that even Bong Me-Eon and her master, both seasoned necromancers, felt a tremor of fear. Each new spasm left his skin darker, redder, until the color became almost unbearable to look at, as though it was imbued with the very essence of death itself. It wasn''t just red; it was a deep, lethal crimson that seemed to bleed with malevolent energy, like the embodiment of decay manifesting in color. It was raw, unfiltered death, radiating off him in waves, each pulse heavy with a chilling potency that was nearly suffocating. Another convulsion, sharper than the ones before, wracked his body. His fingers clawed at the air, curling and contorting as if some internal battle was raging, ripping at the fabric of his very being. Bong Me-Eon and her master could feel it¡ªa death energy unlike anything they''d ever encountered, vast and ancient, as though it had slumbered for centuries and was now stirring awake, filling Song Woo-Ji''s very essence. The grandmaster''s lips tightened into a thin line. "This¡­ this energy¡­ it''s not his," she murmured, an uncharacteristic note of fear lacing her voice. Song Woo-Ji''s body jerked again, and this time his eyes opened, glowing faintly, an unsettling red light that seemed to pierce through the dimness of the fleshy chamber. It was then that his lips parted, and a voice, strained yet resolute, rasped from his throat, echoing faintly around them. "Master¡­ Grandmaster¡­" He said wuth a voice trembling with exhaustion, yet it carried an undeniable strength. His eyes, though heavy-lidded, held a determined focus that was striking in contrast to the chaos wracking his body. "Please¡­ leave. The ancient spirit¡­ it''s about to take over¡­" Chapter 172: VOLK, DESTROY SYSTEM The words hit Bong Me-Eon like a physical blow, and she felt her chest tighten.Her gaze flicked to her master, who was already scrutinizing Song Woo-Ji with a piercing intensity. Yet, even as they processed his plea, he spoke again, his voice tinged with urgency despite his weakening state. "I don''t¡­ have much time. Once it takes over, even for just a moment¡­ it will¡­ it will not discern friend from foe." Bong Me-Eon hesitated, her heart pounding as she looked to her master for guidance, but the grandmaster''s expression was unreadable, her eyes shadowed with contemplation and, perhaps, a hint of sorrow. She seemed to weigh Song Woo-Ji''s words, her gaze shifting between him and Bong Me-Eon as though calculating the cost of their decision. "Master, what¡­ what if we could¡ª" Bong Me-Eon began, but her master silenced her with a subtle shake of her head. "There is no ''what if'' here," the grandmaster murmured, her voice low but resolute. "If he says we need to leave¡­ then we must." She fixed her gaze on Song Woo-Ji, her voice softening. "But¡­ tell us. This spirit¡­ what is it, truly?" Song Woo-Ji''s head fell forward, and for a moment, his whole body went still. Then, slowly, his eyes lifted to meet theirs, hollow and tired but unwavering. "The spirit¡­ it''s old. Older than memory. It¡­ lingers in the remnants of a curse¡­ a wrathful, ancient entity bound to a lineage of vengeance. When¡­ when it takes control, it devours reason. It¡­ it will only want to destroy." Bong Me-Eon felt a chill creep up her spine, the weight of his words settling over her like a shroud. This was no mere possession. What lingered within Song Woo-Ji was something feral, something that had long abandoned all semblance of humanity. "I had¡­ I had no choice," Song Woo-Ji continued, his voice growing fainter, each word clearly costing him. "I needed power to face the monsters¡­ to protect¡­ to survive. But¡­" His voice faltered, his eyes glazing over momentarily before he continued. "This spirit¡­ it doesn''t serve me. I serve it, in exchange for power¡­ for revenge." Bong Me-Eon''s master nodded slowly, an understanding flickering in her eyes. She glanced toward Bong Me-Eon, her voice steady. "We can''t linger, Bong Me-Eon. We need to trust his judgment." Bong Me-Eon opened her mouth to protest, but something in Song Woo-Ji''s pained expression stopped her. She could see the raw exhaustion, the desperation that underscored every labored breath he took. His fingers twitched, and a faint tremor ran through him as though the spirit was already beginning to claw its way up, hungering to take hold. With great effort, Song Woo-Ji spoke once more, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the spirit within him was draining every ounce of strength he had left. "Once¡­ my body turns completely¡­ you''ll know. The skin¡­ will turn reddish-green¡­ like the undead itself. Then¡­ please¡­ go." Bong Me-Eon felt her throat tighten, but she managed a nod, biting back the torrent of questions and objections that threatened to spill forth. She forced herself to look at him, memorizing his face in that moment, knowing that when she saw him again, he might be something else entirely. A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he saw her resolve. "I¡­ I wish things were different," he murmured, his gaze growing distant as the red death glow spread further up his neck, seeping into the veins of his face. "But I made a choice. And now¡­ now I must pay its price." His master placed a gentle hand on Bong Me-Eon''s shoulder, offering her a reassuring squeeze. "It''s time, Bong Me-Eon. We''ll honor his request." She turned back to Song Woo-Ji, a quiet respect in her gaze. "Do what you must. And may your spirit remain¡­ your own, in the end." With one last, lingering look, Bong Me-Eon and her master stepped back, readying themselves to depart the grim, pulsating chamber of flesh. Yet as they moved, Song Woo-Ji''s eyes slipped shut, and a violent shudder coursed through his body, his skin gradually shifting from the blood-tinged red to a sickly, decayed green, the deathly energy coiling around him like an aura. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bong Me-Eon swallowed, steeling herself as she forced her gaze away, knowing this might be the last she saw of him in his own form. Both women hesitated, one last time, but then with silent resolve, they turned and moved towards the closing walls of flesh, their footsteps echoing as they left Song Woo-Ji alone to the spirit''s possession. They knew that once his transformation was complete, whatever part of him remained would be a fleeting whisper, a shadow in the presence of a force as ancient as decay itself. Suddenly, a sound echoed through the narrow corridor of decaying flesh like an earthquake, reverberating through the very walls and shaking the floor beneath Bong Me-Eon and her master. "GRRAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!" The roar thundered, filled with a rage so intense it felt like it could break through the world itself. "VOLK SMASH SYSTEM! VOLK SMASH SYSTEM!" Each word was punctuated by a massive, rhythmic thudding, each impact growing louder, heavier, closer. The footsteps were relentless, pounding the ground like a death march, the tremors intensifying as if a mountain itself were bearing down upon them. Thud¡­ Thud¡­ Thud¡­ THUD! With each step, the noise grew, vibrating the very marrow of their bones, until it was all they could hear. Bong Me-Eon''s heart hammered in her chest, the thudding footsteps echoing like a countdown in her mind. She looked to her master, eyes wide with worry and urgency, her instincts screaming to flee but an undeniable pull calling her back. "Woo-Ji!" Bong Me-Eon''s voice trembled as the syllables left her lips, a spark of desperation in her tone. She could feel something¡­ wrong. Something worse than all the blood and rot they''d waded through so far. Her eyes locked with her master''s, and she saw the same fear reflected back. "We¡­ we can''t just leave him!" Bong Me-Eon stammered, her hands curling into fists. The grandmaster looked as though she wanted to argue, but in the end, she nodded. The two women turned back down the grotesque corridor, hurrying toward the ominous sound, each step harder to take, each heartbeat louder than the last. When they finally reached the inner chamber, the sight before them brought them to an abrupt halt, and they both gasped in horror. "Woo-Ji!" they cried, voices overlapping as they took in the scene. Suspended in the massive, cruel hand of Volk, Warchief of the Orcs, was Song Woo-Ji. He dangled from Volk''s fingers like a battered doll, his body twisted and stretched painfully, the red mist of decaying energy pouring from his form in waves. Yet, it was no longer the man they had known. His skin had taken on a sickly, crimson hue, a twisted and monstrous version of his former self. His features were warped, jagged lines running down his cheeks as if something inside was forcing itself through his flesh. Blackened veins ran across his face and neck, pulsing, pumping dark energy through him like a network of death and rot. But then, they saw his eyes, flickering behind the haze of crimson energy, struggling to stay focused amidst the unrelenting pressure of Volk''s hand. His gaze was fierce, alive, and there was a sliver of the old Song Woo-Ji, hidden behind that monstrous facade, fighting against the overwhelming power that had overtaken him. He was still in there, clinging on with whatever strength he had left. Volk''s fingers curled tighter, muscles flexing with grotesque force. The veins in his arm bulged, thick cords of power straining against his green skin, his massive biceps swelling as his grip strengthened. The air crackled with Volk''s sinister energy, his gaze locked onto Song Woo-Ji with hunger, a desire to crush. "VOOOOLKKK!" The red mist of death surrounding Song Woo-Ji''s body pulsed in resistance, pushing back against Volk''s grip, struggling to escape. "CRUUSSH!" Yet, Volk''s grip only tightened, overpowering the mist bit by bit, driving it back with sheer brute strength. "SYSTEEEEEEM!" With a guttural roar, Volk threw his other hand into the fray, tearing through the flesh of the giant zombie to free his hand. Chapter 173: The grandmaster Grinning with savagery, Volk brought both hands up to tear Song Woo-Ji apart.Kecheeerrkk! The red mist and Volk''s grip were creating an intense clashing sound. Bong Me-Eon''s heart clenched with terror; she could feel it in her bones¡ªthis was the end. But they wouldn''t let it end like this. Not without a fight. The grandmaster raised her hands, her voice commanding as she began a low, ancient chant, the words spilling out with practiced precision, each syllable vibrating with necromantic force. "Through the shadows of decay, the bones of the fallen, let the spirits rise, let the dead awaken! Bind his will! Trap his soul!" Bong Me-Eon joined in, her voice shaking at first but soon finding strength, matching the grandmaster''s tone with a fierce intensity. "By the power of darkness, the essence of death, we call upon the void to swallow his strength! Entangle his wrath, shackle his spirit!" As they chanted, the air around them thickened with a dark energy, swirling in black tendrils that coiled around Volk, latching onto his massive form like chains of night. The two women''s voices merged, filling the chamber with the sound of their incantation, each word amplifying the power surging around them. They poured their energy into it, pushing the dark magic toward Volk with all their might. "Bind the beast, choke his strength!" Bong Me-Eon''s voice was fierce, carrying a desperation and fury that vibrated with her own heartbeats. "Let decay consume his spirit, let rot taint his bones!" Volk only smirked. His eyes, sharp and cruel, glinted with amusement as he watched their spells coil around him. His muscles tensed, and he shrugged off the tendrils of darkness as though they were mere cobwebs, flicking them away with an almost lazy indifference. The chains that should have bound him snapped like brittle twigs, disintegrating in the air around him. The grandmaster clenched her jaw, her chant growing louder, more urgent. She raised her voice, the words spilling out with a renewed force. "Black spirits of old, descend upon this wretch! Drag him down into the abyss, let him be swallowed by the void!" "From the depths of darkness," Bong Me-Eon added, her own words melding with her master''s. "We summon shadows to cling to his soul, to twist his strength into weakness!" But again, Volk merely scoffed, lifting Song Woo-Ji higher, tightening his grip as though he hadn''t even felt their spells. He sneered at them, his lips curling in disdain, his eyes glinting with mockery. The necromantic energy sizzled and fizzled against his skin, unable to sink in, unable to penetrate his hardened aura. With a thunderous laugh, Volk bellowed, "PATHETIC MAGIC! VOLK NOT SCARED OF PITIFUL TRICKS!" The words were a hammer blow, reverberating through the chamber as he threw their spells aside like worthless scraps. The grandmaster''s face contorted with frustration, her voice breaking as she tried to rally her energy once more. Bong Me-Eon''s hands trembled, her focus wavering as despair clawed at the edges of her mind. But still, they pressed on, unwilling to abandon Song Woo-Ji. They clutched at any incantation they could remember, throwing every last shred of their power into the fight. "Lords of the dead, grant us strength!" Bong Me-Eon cried, her voice raw. "Cast shadows upon him, let his soul be bound!" "From the depths of decay, let him rot!" her master echoed, her hands outstretched, fingers trembling with exertion. "Let darkness shroud his spirit, let death consume him!" Volk laughed louder, the sound echoing like a triumphant roar through the chamber. He leaned in, his teeth bared in a sadistic grin as he watched their magic dissipate, utterly unaffected. His eyes gleamed with scorn as he sneered, "VOLK TOO STRONG FOR WEAK MAGIC. YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP VOLK? VOLK FELT NOTHING!" Ignoring the onslaught of their spells, Volk refocused on Song Woo-Ji, his grip tightening once more. The red mist that had been fighting back was now a thin wisp, fading, struggling against the pressure of his crushing hands. "WOO-JI!!!" Bong Me-Eon screamed, her voice cracking as she watched the last remnants of the red mist being forced back. She raised her hands, prepared to try one last spell, her eyes burning with tears of rage and helplessness. Volk barely even looked at her, his cruel grin widening as he dismissed their magic once and for all. He let out a final, triumphant roar, GRAAAAAAHHH!! his hands tightening around Song Woo-Ji''s twisted, monstrous form, poised to deliver the fatal blow. In that instant, their last shreds of hope seemed to dissolve, disappearing into the vast, mocking shadow of Volk''s growk. "GRAAAAAAHHHH!!" The weight of despair settled over them, yet in their hearts, a fierce resolve lingered¡ªa final flicker of defiance, even as they stood powerless against the relentless, unstoppable might of the Warchief. Volk''s fist was poised to grip depper, his fingers ready to squeeze the last of the red mist from Song Woo-Ji''s struggling form. However, suddenly, a flash of blinding, dark light erupted to his side, striking his arm with enough force to jolt him off balance. "Bang!" The impact sent a faint shiver through Volk''s titan arm, and he turned with a look of surprise. His gaze landed on the middle-aged woman standing defiantly, her stance resolute, her eyes blazing with fury and power. The Warchief''s lips curled into a sneer as he faced her. "Hmph. WEAK HUMAN, YOU DARE HURT VOLK?" But before he could fully register the shock, the middle-aged woman lifted her hands, summoning a dark, pulsating energy that wrapped around her like a storm. Her face was etched with determination, her voice rising above the howling wind of necromantic magic swirling around her. "YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST WALK INTO OUR WORLD AND DO AS YOU PLEASE?" Her voice rang through the chamber like a war cry, each word sharp as a blade. "I AM AN SSS CLASS RANKER OF THIS WORLD, AND I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO HARM MY DISCIPLE OR HER DISCIPLE!" sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The force of her words alone seemed to push against Volk, a pressure that defied her physical size. Her hands crackled with black energy, tendrils of shadow weaving around her as she drew upon the full extent of her power. She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Volk with unyielding defiance. "RETURN TO YOUR REALM, YOU MONSTER!" She screamed, her voice unwavering, filled with a strength that even Volk couldn''t ignore. "YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT US, NOT WHILE I STILL DRAW BREATH!" Volk sneered, barely flinching as her energy lashed out. He shook his head, clearly unimpressed. "WEAK SPELLS¡­ PATHETIC WOMAN¡­" Ignoring her, Volk''s gaze returned to Song Woo-Ji, the system user he so need to destroy. He could feel the strange, system-like energy within Song Woo-Ji, and every instinct within Volk warned him not to underestimate it. The system was a nuisance¡ªa trick and a cheat¡ªbut it also wielded great power. And Volk would crush it before it had a chance to meddle with him further. "GRAAAAAAHHH!" Volk roared, brushing off the necromantic magic as if it were dust on his shoulder. His hand reached out again for Song Woo-Ji, who was still writhing in his grasp. But the middle-aged woman wasn''t finished. She raised her voice again, directing her fierce gaze to Bong Me-Eon. "BONG ME-EON! TAKE HIM AS SOON AS SOON AS I WEAKEN THIS MONSTER!" Bong Me-Eon''s eyes widened, her expression one of shock and fear. She could barely comprehend her master''s words, the reality of what her master was about to do. "Master! Are you¡­ are you going to¡­ do it?" She could barely able to believe what she was hearing. Chapter 174: Black Ash With a solemn nod, the grandmaster looked at her with a gaze that was filled with both love and pride."YES. I WILL DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE." Her voice softened, filled with a warmth that was rare to hear in her usual commanding tone. "BONG ME-EON¡­ YOU HAVE BEEN A GOOD DISCIPLE. YOU HAVE BECOME STRONG, WISE, AND COMPASSIONATE. I HAVE WATCHED YOU GROW FROM A TIMID STUDENT TO A WARRIOR. I COULDN''T BE MORE PROUD." Tears welled up in Bong Me-Eon''s eyes, the weight of her master''s words hitting her like a blow. She could feel the pride radiating from her master, and it made her chest tighten with an overwhelming mix of sorrow and gratitude. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. "Master¡­" Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes glistening as she looked at the woman who had taught her everything. The grandmaster reached out a hand, resting it gently on Bong Me-Eon''s shoulder. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "YOU HAVE CARRIED MY LEGACY WELL, AND YOU HAVE EVEN FOUND A DISCIPLE OF YOUR OWN, ONE WHO IS STRONG AND BRAVE. YOU HAVE TAUGHT HIM WELL, JUST AS I TAUGHT YOU." A soft smile tugged at her lips, and she squeezed Bong Me-Eon''s shoulder reassuringly. "DO NOT LET FEAR HOLD YOU BACK, MY DEAR DISCIPLE. SOMETIMES, WE MUST MAKE SACRIFICES FOR THE ONES WE LOVE. AND YOU HAVE A STRONG HEART, STRONGER THAN YOU KNOW." Bong Me-Eon blinked, a tear escaping down her cheek. Her heart felt as if it were breaking, the weight of her master''s words settling deep within her. "But¡­ why, Master?" Her voice cracked with pain and confusion. She couldn''t understand why her master was willing to risk so much, to face Volk alone. The grandmaster''s gaze shifted to Song Woo-Ji, still caught in Volk''s relentless grip, his body twitching with the red deathly aura around him. "THIS MONSTER KNOWS, BONG ME-EON. HE KNOWS THAT SONG WOO-JI''S SPIRIT IS STRONG. THE SPIRIT HE CARRIES IS AN ANCIENT ONE, AND IT CAN MATCH THIS BEAST. THE HORDE WARCHIEF DOES NOT WANT TO GIVE IT THE CHANCE." Realization dawned on Bong Me-Eon''s face, the truth settling heavy and cold in her heart. "So¡­ if Song Woo-Ji awakens fully, will the spirit protect him?" The grandmaster nodded, her eyes glistening with a fierce determination. "YES. THE SPIRIT''S POWER IS LIMITED. BUT FOR THAT BRIEF TIME, IT CAN OVERPOWER EVEN THIS MONSTER. "THE MONSTER HORDE WARCHIEF KNOWS THIS, AND HE''S DOING EVERYTHING TO PREVENT IT. THAT''S WHY WE MUST GIVE WOO-JI THE CHANCE TO FIGHT BACK, TO FULLY AWAKEN." Bong Me-Eon took a deep breath, her mind racing as she processed everything her master had said. She felt a surge of respect and love for this woman who was willing to put herself in harm''s way, all for the sake of her disciple''s survival. "MASTER," Bong Me-Eon said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "YOU¡­ YOU''VE BEEN LIKE A MOTHER TO ME. I NEVER GOT TO SAY THANK YOU¡­ FOR EVERYTHING YOU''VE DONE." The grandmaster gave her a gentle, tearful smile, a look of pure love shining in her eyes. "MY DEAR, YOU HAVE ALREADY THANKED ME IN EVERY MOMENT YOU''VE LIVED YOUR LIFE WITH HONOR. YOU HAVE MADE ME PROUD, BONG ME-EON." Bong Me-Eon bit her lip, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she nodded, understanding her master''s resolve. She reached out, clasping her master''s hand, holding it tightly as though she could somehow keep her from what she was about to do. The grandmaster squeezed her hand in return, giving her a final, reassuring look. "THIS IS OUR DUTY, MY DEAR. IT IS OUR JOB TO PROTECT OUR WORLD, NO MATTER THE COST." Taking a deep breath, Bong Me-Eon straightened, her face resolute as she steeled herself for what was to come. "I understand, Master." The grandmaster released her hand, turning back to Volk with a fierce glare, her hands crackling with dark energy. She took a step forward, her voice ringing out in a final, defiant battle cry. "ORC!! OGRE!! WHATEVER YOU ARE! YOUR FIGHT IS WITH ME NOW!" As the words left her lips, she raised her hands, summoning a torrent of necromantic energy that filled the air with a haunting, spectral light. Volk''s colossal foot swung toward the grandmaster, slamming into her with a force that echoed like a thunderclap. "SMACK!" The impact alone seemed to silence the battlefield for a heartbeat, her body seemingly crumpling beneath the blow. A savage satisfaction curled across Volk''s lips as he sneered down at her crumpled form. "WEAK WOMAN," he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "NOT WORTH VOLK''S TIME." He turned, already dismissing her from his mind, expecting to see her body flung far across the field like a discarded rag doll. But instead, her figure began to dissolve, disintegrating into a strange, dark ash that twisted in the air. The ash swirled, not in the chaotic path one would expect, but with an eerie, controlled movement, like a shadow given life. It spiraled higher, catching the faint light with an unsettling shimmer, its form undulating and writhing as if bound by a purpose, a relentless will that defied logic. The ashes twirled and looped, gathering density as they swarmed together, snaking around Volk with a dark, ominous energy. As he watched in stunned silence, the ash continued to circle him, drifting closer and closer with each spiral until it grazed against his skin like an icy fog. Volk shivered as he felt an unnatural pressure, as if the very air around him was thickening, pushing against him from every direction. It was subtle at first, but soon, that pressure began to build, intensifying as the ash encircled him with an intent he couldn''t ignore. The sensation was foreign, something he hadn''t encountered before. He tried to shrug it off, but with each movement, he felt himself being shoved backward, the ash forming a thick barrier that defied his strength. "WHAT¡­?!" He growled, his muscles tensing as he fought against the invisible force. Then, from within the swirling darkness, a spectral face began to emerge, taking form from the ash. The grandmaster''s face took shape, her features set in a fierce, unyielding expression, her eyes gleaming with a power that even Volk found unsettling. Her lips parted, and her voice rang out in a furious cry, echoing through the ash-filled air around them. "BONG ME-EON!" she screamed, her voice cutting through the haze with a strength that resonated deep within Bong Me-Eon''s chest. "TAKE WOO-JI''S BODY AWAY!" Her voice was both a command and a plea, filled with a desperation that snapped Bong Me-Eon from her grief-stricken stupor. Her heart pounding, she forced herself to her feet, casting one last glance at the spectral form of her master before dashing toward Song Woo-Ji, who still lay bound and helpless in Volk''s grasp. The ash continued its relentless assault on Volk, each wisp pressing against him with a force that grew stronger, more determined. The pressure seemed to multiply with every passing second, the ashen mist pushing Volk further and further from Song Woo-Ji''s body. He stumbled, his massive frame shuddering under the onslaught, frustration and fury twisting his face as he fought to regain control. "GRAAAHHH!" Volk roared, his powerful limbs straining as he tried to push back against the ash. But for each step he forced forward, the spectral force pushed him back two, refusing to yield. The grandmaster''s ash-born face continued to twist and swirl around him, her features shifting and reforming as she poured every ounce of her lingering power into holding him at bay. Meanwhile, Bong Me-Eon reached Song Woo-Ji''s side, her heart racing as she took hold of his limp form. She gripped his arms, digging her heels into the ground, pulling with every ounce of strength she possessed. However, Volk''s lingering hold still clung to Song Woo-Ji''s body, a monstrous resistance that made him feel as if he weighed ten times his normal size. "AAAAAHHHHHGGGGG!!!" Bong Me-Eon''s shout tore from her throat, the sound raw and desperate as she strained against the invisible tether that held Song Woo-Ji fast. Beside her, the grandmaster''s voice rose again, her ash-born form intensifying, the spectral mist thickening as it surged forward with renewed ferocity. The ash wrapped around Volk''s arms and shoulders, spiraling down his legs, anchoring him to the ground with an immovable weight. He snarled, thrashing against the ethereal bindings, his muscles bulging, veins straining as he tried to throw off the ashen chains. "GRRRRAAAAAAHHHHH!" Volk''s roar echoed across the battlefield, his fists pounding against the invisible barrier as he attempted to break free. However, the more he fought, the tighter the ash seemed to hold him, its incorporeal grip refusing to relent. "MASTER!" Bong Me-Eon''s voice shook with both fear and determination, her eyes stinging as she struggled to pull Song Woo-Ji free. She braced her legs, throwing her weight backward, every muscle in her body straining as she tugged against the weight of Volk''s grasp. But the grandmaster''s ash held strong, each twist and turn of the ethereal mist driving Volk back inch by inch. His furious gaze flickered from Bong Me-Eon to the spectral face, his frustration mounting as he realized he was losing ground. The ash continued to push him, forcing him further and further from Song Woo-Ji, the relentless force unyielding in its purpose. The grandmaster''s face loomed closer, her expression fierce, unyielding. With each surge, her presence seemed to grow, towering over him like a shadow, her gaze boring into his with a determination that bordered on the otherworldly. Bong Me-Eon''s fingers slipped slightly on Song Woo-Ji''s arms, her grip nearly failing as exhaustion clawed at her limbs. However, with one final, desperate shout, she dug her heels into the ground, throwing her entire weight into the pull. "AAAAAAAAHHHHGGGG!!!" With a sudden, wrenching force, Song Woo-Ji''s body tore free from Volk''s grasp, the momentum sending both Bong Me-Eon and her unconscious disciple stumbling backward. As they hit the ground, she glanced back at the towering figure of Volk, who was still locked in the grandmaster''s relentless grip. Her master''s ash continued to push Volk away, forming an impenetrable barrier that gave her and Song Woo-Ji a momentary reprieve. They had done it. Chapter 175 Grand death As Volk''s hulking form was forced back, his figure faded into the distance, and the field fell silent, a heavy, almost reverent stillness settling over the ground.The grandmaster''s ethereal form wavered for a moment, and she felt a profound sense of calm wash over her¡ªa sigh of relief so deep it touched the very core of her being. In that fleeting moment, a cascade of memories surged through her mind, vivid and unbidden, each one sharper than the last. She could see herself as a young girl, eyes wide with wonder as she wandered her family''s modest farm. Her parents, simple folk with calloused hands and kind hearts, taught her everything they knew, her father''s laughter filling her memories like a song. There were endless fields of golden crops, the smell of fresh earth and rain, and quiet nights under a sky filled with stars. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The young grandmaster''s teenage years were no less bright. She''d left the farm to join a city school, and though she missed her family, she felt the thrill of independence. Friends gathered around her, and she was the leader, the one everyone looked up to for guidance and confidence. Even then, she''d always excelled, her teachers speaking in hushed tones of her potential. Find your next read on empire They called her gifted, and their praise felt as if it could lift her off the ground. But beneath it, she began to feel a faint stirring of emptiness¡ªa shadow lurking behind every achievement. The young grandmaster brushed it aside, telling herself it was just ambition pulling her forward. Then the monster gates emerged, a dark mystery that swallowed her life whole. She remembered the training camps, the intense drills, and the raw thrill of her first hunt. She was the fastest to ascend through the ranks, her skill outpacing those around her. As an E-rank, she was nervous, but she learned fast, dispatching her first monsters with precision. She grew stronger with each fight, D-rank coming almost effortlessly. But with every new rank, she noticed fewer familiar faces, friends who either gave up or¡­ didn''t survive. With C-rank came a reputation. People knew her name, other hunters admired her, and that feeling of emptiness seemed to grow. The younger grandmaster wore her smile for them all, but deep down, she felt adrift. Her strength became a burden, separating her from others, yet she kept pushing, seeking some elusive purpose that remained just beyond her reach. By the time she reached A-rank, she had wealth, fame, and influence. People called her a hero, the face of humanity''s hope. But that hope weighed on her. She was always the one to save the day, to stand firm when others fell. The slightly adult grandmaster thought that maybe, at S-rank, she''d finally feel satisfied, fulfilled. Yet, even there, the thrill dulled, and she found herself wondering why she was fighting. As she became SS-rank, and then SSS-rank, she was praised endlessly, a figure exalted above all. People looked to her as a beacon of strength, a symbol of all they aspired to be. But no one truly saw her, the girl who had once laughed in the fields of her family''s farm, the girl who yearned for something¡ªsomeone¡ªto share her burdens. In the endless waves of applause and admiration, she found herself more isolated than ever. The adult grandmaster was the best, yes, but she was also alone. And then, she''d met Bong Me-Eon. At first, she''d chosen Bong Me-Eon for her tragic background, thinking she could be the one to lift Bong Me-Eon from her sorrow, to help her reshape her destiny. Yet now, in this quiet moment, the truth became painfully clear: she''d chosen Bong Me-Eon not out of kindness, but out of a need she could hardly bear to acknowledge. Bong Me-Eon had known hardship, real suffering. She was flawed, broken, and resilient, and it was those qualities the grandmaster had sought to understand. The grandmaster wanted, desperately, to feel that same vulnerability, to understand what drove someone who was not blessed with innate strength or perfect fortune. She had taken on a disciple not to teach, but to learn. Through Bong Me-Eon, she had hoped to finally grasp the mysteries of sorrow and struggle, to feel the weight of true connection. She''d wanted, needed, to understand what it meant to rely on someone, to be relied upon in return, not as a savior but as a companion, a part of someone''s life that went beyond her strength or title. Now, as the grandmaster stood in the ashes of her own power, holding back a monstrous foe, she understood her purpose. She wasn''t just here to save the day; she was here to build a future for Bong Me-Eon and for Song Woo-Ji, a future she would never see but had fought to make possible. For the first time, she felt at peace, a calm that went beyond the battles and triumphs of her past. It wasn''t happiness, but it was contentment¡ªa quiet, profound acceptance of her place in the lives she cherished. And as she gazed out over the battlefield, she felt herself drift, her spirit weaving through the remnants of her ash, anchoring her in the present, in this single, perfect moment where she was finally, truly needed. Suddenly, Volk''s massive hand closed around the grandmaster, and she would see his face with a cruel grin spreading as he felt her weaken beneath his crushing grip. He sneered, "GOTCHA, WEAK WOMAN! YOU DON''T HAVE MANA ANYMORE!" She was no longer ash, no longer able to slip through his fingers. Her life, her power¡ªall bound to her mortal form now. But to his frustration, she simply looked up at him, with a defiant glint in her eyes. She even dared to smile. "It doesn''t matter," she murmured, her voice filled with an unshakable calm. Slowly, she pointed a thumb over her shoulder, toward the hulking figure of Song Woo-Ji in the distance. "He''s awakened." Volk''s smirk vanished. His eyes narrowed, and his fury burned hot, consuming him. "YOU DARE TO PLAY VOOOOOLK!" His roar echoed across the battlefield as his fingers crushed down, turning her into nothing more than a broken shell, the blood staining his hand and armor. "Noooo!!!" Bong Me-Eon''s scream cut through the roar of battle, and her body launched forward, an instinctive, desperate attempt to save her master. She reached out, her hand trembling as she left Song Woo-Ji''s side. However, Volk saw her approach with a dismissive glare and swung his arm backhanded, catching her with a brutal slap. The force sent her spinning through the air, her body battered and broken, bones cracking as she hit the ground. She lay still, breathing shallowly, but the bloody mist¡ªher master''s final remnants¡ªreformed, swirling around her. It softened her impact, its dark magic seeping into her wounds, lessening her injuries even as it faded into the air. Bong Me-Eon trembled, her eyes wide and filled with helpless fury. But Volk didn''t care about her. His focus was entirely on the figure in the distance¡ªthe system user. The one who had drawn his wrath, who seemed to be gathering some forbidden power. Volk sneered, his eyes narrowing as he stomped forward, every step shaking the ground. Song Woo-Ji''s form was nearly unrecognizable, his body suspended in a dark aura of red, gray, and green energy swirling around him like a dense fog. The very air rippled with the force of decay and death, a nauseating stench filling the battlefield. The thick miasma stretched out, forming an almost impenetrable barrier. Volk paused, his lip curling in disgust at the sickly, fetid energy surrounding his prey. But he wasn''t deterred; if anything, his determination flared brighter. Chapter 176 DEATH MONARCH EMERGENCE "THIS ALL YOU GOT, SYSTEM WORM?!" he bellowed, bracing himself as he took a thunderous step forward.The decay energy responded, surging against him, crashing into him with the weight of a mountain. It wrapped around his skin, digging in like claws, gnawing at his muscles and bones. Volk''s thick veins pulsed, his face twisting in pain as the energy bit deeper, but he threw his head back and laughed¡ªa deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the mist. "VOLK NOT SCARED OF STINKY POWER!" His voice boomed as he took another step, his massive frame pushing against the decaying energy. "VOLK SMASH ALL WHO THINKS THEY STRONG!" The barrier fought back with brutal force, each wave of decay stronger than the last, pressing into him like a living wall. His skin blistered under its touch, patches sloughing away as the corrosive magic dug deeper. His muscles tensed, trembling with the strain as he forced himself forward, step by agonizing step. Pain crackled through him, raw and unrelenting, yet Volk''s fury drowned it out. He roared, his eyes blazing, pushing onward. "YOU¡­CAN''T¡­STOP VOLK!" His steps were slow, his breath ragged, but he moved forward, inch by inch, relentless, never stopping, and getting angrier and angrier every second. His hands reached out, his thick fingers curling as he pressed against the deadly energy, muscles bulging under the strain. The decay magic clawed back, a storm of red, gray, and green wrapping around his arms, pulling at his skin, gnawing at his bones. But Volk gritted his teeth, straining forward. "STINKY MAGIC WEAK!" His growl was low, but his voice held a mocking edge. "VOLK TOO STRONG FOR THIS! YOU WEAK, SYSTEM WORM!" The decay fought back harder, swirling violently as if alive, trying to consume him entirely. But Volk''s determination was like steel, unbreakable. With each step, he tore through the thick fog, his laughter a mocking echo in the midst of the dark magic. His fingers inched closer, stretching toward Song Woo-Ji''s form, his every muscle straining, his veins bulging with effort. His breath came in sharp, painful gasps, but he refused to be stopped. His fingers finally brushed the edge of Song Woo-Ji''s aura¡ªa contact that should have shattered lesser beings. But Volk grinned, defying it, his fierce gaze locked on the figure within. "VOLK WILL SMASH ALL!" His hand surged forward, reaching out to crush his prey. Then, from the depths of the decaying energy, a pulse of raw power exploded out, hitting him with a force unlike anything he''d ever felt. "BANG!" The impact shot through him like a bolt of lightning, a shockwave so intense that it ripped him off his feet, sending him hurtling back. He felt his massive body break through the decaying fog, flying far across the battlefield as his limbs went limp, the world spinning around him. "KABAM!" His body struck the ground, leaving a massive crater in the earth, and a cloud of dust and debris billowed out as Volk lay still, the world momentarily silent around him. Meanwhile, from the swirling cloud of decaying mist at the battlefield''s heart, something dark and grotesque began to take form. The decayed fog gathered, thickening, churning into shapes both nightmarish and surreal. The mists receded, and a creature stood, hunched and monstrous, its body covered in flesh that looked as if it had been flayed, revealing raw, demon-like red muscles that pulsed and oozed with decay. Skull-like, with jagged teeth and hollow eyes that glowed faintly, the beast had a resemblance to Song Woo-Ji¡ªa corrupted, twisted version, as though the man had been reborn from the darkest pits of suffering and madness. It tilted its head up toward the sky, as if savoring the open air, taking in the vastness it hadn''t seen in countless eons. A low chuckle rumbled from deep within its chest, growing louder until it exploded into a maniacal, ear-splitting laugh: "KRAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! KRAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAARH!!!" The sound was haunting, piercing through the chaos, sending chills down the spine of anything that could hear it. The creature took a long breath, savoring each inhale as though every scent carried meaning. "So long..." it whispered, its voice guttural and twisted, each word heavy with bitterness. "So¡­ long... trapped in that prison. Bound, confined, sealed away like a rabid beast, my power shackled, my soul bound in cursed chains! Forced to rot¡­ to simmer¡­ to FEAST on my own rage in that eternal darkness!" It snarled, the rows of sharp teeth grinding together, slick with drool. "Centuries passed. No, millennia. Eons of nothing but emptiness!" The creature seemed to be salivating as it recalled the memory, its tongue licking across its sharp, cracked lips. It let out a shuddering sigh, as if shaking off a lifetime''s worth of agony, and leaned forward, muscles twitching with anticipation. "But now¡­ NOW, I am FREE! This world lies before me¡ªsoft flesh, warm blood, endless mortals ripe for the taking!" The creature clenched its clawed hands, feeling the raw strength at its command, and its mouth watered. "WOMEN, CHILDREN¡­ ALL THOSE PATHETIC WEAK HUMANS¡ªI CAN''T WAIT TO GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" It let out another laugh, trembling with anticipation, the ravenous light in its eyes growing darker and more frenzied. However, then, as it scanned the battlefield for helpless prey, it caught sight of something unexpected. It blinked, confused, its maniacal smile fading as it looked around. Standing in front of him were no screaming, fleeing humans. Instead, lines of Orcs and Ogres glared at him with fiery, menacing eyes. Their bodies were tense, their faces twisted in raw hatred. Swords, axes, and clubs were gripped tightly in their hands as they prepared to face down the creature in defiance. The monstrous being tilted its head, brows knitting in disappointment and confusion as it surveyed the battlefield. "Huh?" it grunted, scanning the lines of bristling warriors. "What are these creatures called? What are you doing here?" It sneered, the disappointment in its voice clear as it scratched at its neck. "I come into this world after millennia, and THIS is my welcoming committee?" The creature''s twisted face contorted with disdain as it looked over the sea of Orcs and Ogres who dared to face him down. He shook his head slowly, as if dispelling some unpleasant thought, his sharp teeth grinding in irritation. "No... This can''t be." He murmured, glancing at his own claws, still slick with the viscous blood of his reborn body. "I will not stain my rebirth with the blood of such... creatures." He knelt, pressing his taloned fingers against the cracked ground beneath him, and his face contorted into a wide, malicious grin. "BOOOOOOONE¡­" His voice rumbled, building in volume, an ominous echo that reverberated across the battlefield. The ground pulsed with dark energy, and the deathly mist around him began swirling faster, thickening, as though the very air had grown heavier, fouler. A pulse of death energy exploded outwards in every direction, cascading over the battlefield, latching onto the soil and stones. "KAAAAAAAAAAII!" He bellowed, his voice reverberating like a thunderclap that cracked open the very fabric of space. Beneath his hands, the ground split, forming blackened crevices that seemed to pierce through reality itself. Dark, twisting rifts appeared in the earth, vast and jagged like the jaws of a monstrous creature, devouring all light around them. They expanded, casting an unnatural, flickering darkness over the battlefield. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Slowly, from these shadowed rifts, figures began to emerge. They rose in silence at first, their gauntleted hands clawing their way from the depths, dragging themselves up with an eerie, purposeful grace. A glint of darkened steel shone in the dim light, revealing armor tarnished with age and scarred by countless battles. Their eyes were hollow, empty voids of darkness, yet a sickly green light flickered from within, casting an unholy glow that seeped through the cracks in their armor. Each movement was precise, cold, the embodiment of death and relentless will. One by one, they pulled themselves fully from the rifts, standing in perfect lines, as if in response to some ancient call to arms. They were towering figures clad in plate mail blackened by rot and corrosion, their weapons battered yet deadly sharp, infused with the foul energy of their master. Helmets concealed their skeletal faces, but beneath their visors, a spectral glow pulsed with unnatural life, illuminating the lifeless sockets of their eyes. Experience more tales on empire With each creature that emerged, the deathly chill in the air intensified, spreading dread through the ranks of the Orcs and Ogres. The creature straightened, watching his army rise from the depths, and his thin, cruel smile widened with satisfaction. He brought his hands together, clasping them with a decisive, echoing snap. Turning back toward the Orcs and Ogres, he surveyed them with disdainful amusement. "I don''t know what pathetic dimension you came from, but none of you hold the essence of real Orcs and Ogres," he sneered, his voice filled with scorn as his gaze raked over their bristling ranks. "In you, I sense only shadows, mere imitations. You are flawed... incomplete. And I have no patience for such disappointments." He raised his hand, pointing it at them, his eyes flaring with a dark, malevolent energy. "So, my warriors," he intoned with a darkly satisfied smile, "ERASE THESE PATHETIC PARASITIC EXISTENCE!" The armored beings stiffened in unison, their heads turning toward the Orcs and Ogres in perfect synchronization. Without a sound, they began their advance, their armored boots striking the ground in a slow, unyielding rhythm, like the relentless beat of a funeral march. Their eyes were full of red blood desire to murder and their bodies were leaving decaying auras that seemed to dissolve all the living beings on their paths. Chapter 177 KNIGHT SMASH VOLK? Meanwhile, Volk got up after being sent far away, the weight of the unfamiliar force that had blasted him still pulsing through his veins.He pressed his massive fists into the earth, pushing himself to his feet, his brow furrowed. The blast¡ªit had thrown him back with an ease he''d never known. He shook his head, growling low in his chest. Strength beyond reckoning coursed through him now, surging from every muscle, every fiber. He had risen stronger than ever before, he was now considered a titan among his kin, and he is vastly far stronger because of his system. And yet¡­ that aura had overwhelmed him? The doubt lingered only for a heartbeat. Volk was not one to be shaken by questions. GrrrRRRRR¡­ Gritting his fanged teeth, he turned his gaze back to the chaos that had erupted behind him. The sight that met him made his fists clench until his knuckles were white against his green skin. His horde was in turmoil, a storm of gnashing teeth and flashing steel, but they were no longer the ones dealing the pain. They were the ones receiving it. The source of this chaos was unmistakable. A line of towering figures, clad in the tarnished steel of the ancient dead, moved with silent menace through the ranks of his warriors. They wore the marks of ages¡ªrust-streaked armor, battered and scarred, as though they had been through countless battles and now lived again only by some dark, unholy will. They marched with the inexorable calm of death itself. There was no breath, no heartbeat in them, only a sickly green light glowing from behind iron masks, flickering and pulsing like the last embers of a dying flame. One of Volk''s Ogres roared, a bellowing cry of defiance, as it hurled itself at one of the death-bound warriors. The Ogre''s massive club swung down with the force to shatter boulders, hurtling toward the armored figure with a speed that made the air tremble. However, with a swift, unnatural grace, the figure sidestepped, its armored boot scraping against the ground in a bone-chilling hiss. Before the Ogre could recover, the deathly knight drove its blade upward, a jagged, darkened steel that sliced through the air with a silent precision. The blade found flesh, biting deep. The Ogre''s roar cut off into a gurgling choke, blood spraying as it slumped to its knees, defeated in a single, merciless stroke. Volk''s heart pounded as he watched. Tudub! Tudub! Tudub! The Ogre''s once-bright eyes dulled, its hulking form falling forward, defeated. His roar split the air, echoing like thunder, "NOOO! HORDE, SMASH THEM!" But even as Volk cried out, another scene unfolded before him. An Orc warrior, battle-scarred and fierce, raised its axe high, letting out a battle cry that echoed in defiance. It rushed forward, "GRAAAAA!!" swinging wildly at another of the dead warriors. The axe crashed against the knight''s shield with a sound like shattering stone¡ªCRACK! But the knight didn''t falter. It absorbed the blow with a chilling calm, then stepped forward, bashing its shield into the Orc''s chest with a bone-jarring crunch. The Orc stumbled back, gasping, but the death-bound warrior was relentless. Its sword sliced out in a deadly arc, catching the Orc across the chest, splitting armor and flesh alike. With a final, gasping wheeze, the Orc toppled, its fierce spirit extinguished. Volk''s fury grew, his breath coming in deep, ragged growls as he watched his kin being butchered. He felt each death like a blow against his own flesh. Another cry broke through his rage, "HUGAAARRGGG!!" drawing his eyes to yet another of his warriors¡ªa massive Ogre who stood, muscles rippling, heaving its war hammer. It swung with all its strength, a crushing blow that could shatter a stone wall. But the knight facing it moved with an impossible, eerie speed. The deathly warrior spun, sidestepping the hammer, then lunged with its sword. The blade plunged into the Ogre''s side, twisting as it buried deep. The Ogre staggered, dropping its hammer as blood poured from its wound, pooling dark and thick on the ground. The knight didn''t give it a chance to recover, wrenching the sword free and striking again, felling the Ogre with a brutal efficiency that left Volk seething. With each fallen kin, Volk''s growl deepened, turning into a low, ominous rumble. His teeth ground together, and his fists tightened until his knuckles cracked. His horde, his warriors, his blood-bound kin¡ªthey were being cut down, defeated with a chilling ease that sent an uncharacteristic chill through his spine. "ENOUGH!" Volk''s voice roared, thundering across the battlefield. He surged forward, massive feet pounding the ground. "Volk SMASH THESE MONSTERS!" He charged at one of the armored figures, his entire body vibrating with fury and intent. The ground shook beneath him as he bore down on the knight, every muscle coiling in readiness to crush his opponent. As he neared, he sensed it¡ªa suffocating, chilling aura radiating from the creature. It was unlike any force he had felt before, a presence thick with death and decay that seeped into his skin, gnawing at his very essence. But Volk shoved the feeling aside, baring his teeth in a fierce snarl. "RAAAAAAGH!" He bellowed, launching himself forward. His fist crashed into the knight''s armored chest with a deafening BAM! The blow was enough to send the creature staggering, its form thrown off balance for just a moment. But it was just that¡ªa moment. The knight righted itself with a mechanical precision, its head turning toward Volk with an eerie calm. Then, with a swift, calculated movement, it retaliated. Its gauntleted fist shot forward, slamming into Volk''s chest with a force that drove him back, the impact resounding through his bones. He grunted, stumbling as he felt the breath forced from his lungs. But he held his ground, digging his feet into the dirt. "YOU WEAK CREATURE!" Volk snarled, his voice rumbling with fury. He threw himself at the knight again, his fists swinging in powerful arcs, each strike accompanied by a thunderous roar. "RAAAAAHH! YOU DIE HERE!" His knuckles met the knight''s armor in a series of brutal impacts¡ªBAM! BAM! BAM!¡ªeach punch driving a dent into the darkened steel. However, as he kept swinging his gigantic fist, Volk felt it again, that oppressive, draining energy that clung to the knight like a second skin, seeping into him with each blow, gnawing at his strength. The knight''s head tilted, as though observing him with a detached interest. Then it moved, its speed blurring as it ducked under Volk''s swing, slamming its shield into his side with bone-crushing force. KRA-KOOM! The impact sent Volk sprawling, the earth splintering beneath him as he crashed down, dust rising in a choking cloud around him. "GRRRRAAAAAAHHH!" Volk roared, scrambling to his feet. His vision blurred with rage, and he charged forward, ignoring the heaviness creeping through his limbs, the relentless drain of his strength. He swung again, catching another knight in the shoulder, forcing it to stagger back. But before he could press his advantage, another figure closed in, its sword flashing in a deadly arc. Volk twisted, feeling the blade slice past him, close enough that he felt the chill of death brush his skin. The knight pressed its advantage, driving him back, step by punishing step, until Volk felt his back slam into something solid¡ªa wall of armored bodies surrounding him, cutting off his escape. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He roared, swinging his fists in every direction, striking steel with every blow, the sound echoing across the battlefield. BAM! BAM! BAM! His knuckles split, his muscles straining as he fought against the unyielding wall of death that encircled him. But with each swing, he felt his strength slipping, the deathly energy clawing at his resolve, sapping his will to fight. "YOU¡­ WILL¡­ NOT¡­ STOP¡­ VOLK!" he roared, his voice echoing with a defiance that seemed to shake the very air around him. But the knights moved as one, a seamless, merciless tide that closed in on him, their swords raised, their cold, hollow eyes fixed on their prey. One struck him in the side, the blade slicing deep, and he roared, twisting to face it, only to be met with another strike from behind, driving him to his knees. As he struggled, he felt a shadow loom over him. He looked up, his vision blurring, and saw the creature that had summoned these warriors, its twisted face sneering down at him. "Pitiful creature," it murmured, a mocking gleam in its eyes. "Your strength means nothing here." Volk snarled, his voice hoarse, but he couldn''t find the words. His strength, his fury, his very will- everything felt like it was slipping away, lost in the cold, unyielding grip of death that surrounded him. However, even as the darkness closed in, he refused to fall silent, his growls echoing defiantly across the battlefield. Chapter 178 Death Monarch interest The Death Monarch, an ancient spirit steeped in centuries of magical wisdom, watched the hulking form of the battered Ogre before him with a mixture of mild intrigue and disdain. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.This creature had impressive physical might, that much was clear. But his utter lack of finesse, his inability to wield or even understand the depths of true magic, rendered him as nothing more than brute force¡ªa one-dimensional weapon that held no place in the Death Monarch''s plans. He sneered, "not really that much but muscle and brawn," he mumbled. The flickering light of his otherworldly aura casting an eerie, twisted shadow over the battlefield. The Ogre was strong, yes, stronger than many of his summoned knights, but in the grand scheme of magic, Volk was just muscle. And then, unexpectedly, Volk''s broken form stirred. There was a heavy pause, as if even the air held its breath, and then¡ªBAM! Volk slammed his fists into the ground, his body rising with a surge of determination that bordered on madness. The Death Monarch''s mocking gaze lingered, but the creature''s brows quirked slightly as Volk pushed himself to his feet, roaring. Volk''s world had dimmed, vision turning to a dark blur, but he wasn''t out. No, he would not be dismissed, especially by this¡­ thing. He remembered the sneer, the mocking twist of the creature''s face. It burned in his mind, a searing insult. "VOLK¡­ NOT¡­ WEAAAAK!" His voice thundered across the field, a challenge to any who dared doubt him. With a mighty leap, he launched himself skyward, his massive form becoming a streak against the darkened sky, trailing dust and fury behind him with a mighty SWOOOSH! He hung there for a second, high above the battlefield, taking in the endless sea of death knights below. Each armored figure was a statue of menace, a chilling force held together by dark energy, a dark army in the command of a being that had dared to look down on him. Volk''s eyes fell on the Monarch himself, sensing the pulsating aura, the sheer pressure of magical energy radiating from him like a beacon. The creature who mocked him, who dismissed him as nothing, stood with that same arrogant sneer. Volk bared his teeth in a snarl, his chest heaving with rage. "VOLK WILL DESTROY YOU, SYSTEM USEEEEEEERRR!" His words were a vow, echoing from the heavens, a final warning before his descent. He turned his gaze downward, bracing himself against the air, his massive form plummeting with accelerating force. The wind shrieked around him as he tucked his arms, his speed building into a thunderous roar. "NUCLEAAAAAAAAAR!" He bellowed, his voice splitting the sky. The ground rushed up toward him, the shadow of his form stretching across the battlefield in a growing blot. The Monarch looked up, an eyebrow arching in mild curiosity, but that sneer remained plastered on his face. Volk''s mouth opened once more as he neared the ground, the echo of his words tearing through the battlefield. "ECHOOOOOOOOOOO!" His muscles tensed, and every ounce of rage, every slight, every insult powered him, gathering like a storm within his massive body. And then, as he was almost upon his target, Volk took in a final, guttural breath, his voice tearing from him with a fury that could shake mountains. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMBB!" He collided with the earth, his impact creating an explosion that cracked the very surface of the ground. A burst of energy radiated outward from the point of collision, rocking the ground and causing shockwaves that rippled in all directions. CRRRACK! The earth split, deep fissures tearing across the ground in a spider-web pattern, rupturing rocks and scattering debris. The Monarch remained still, his gaze calm, arms folded in supreme disinterest as he watched the initial impact of Volk''s ''Nuclear Echo Bomb'' dissipate into the ground, cracking only a mere few meters of the battlefield. Volk snarled, but his ferocity only seemed to amuse the Monarch. "VOLK WILL CRUSH YOU, PUTRID SMELLING THING!!" However, the Death monarch''s cold, arrogant stare bored into Volk with a look of mild curiosity, as though he were an insect struggling to escape the inevitable boot. Then, a tremor. The Death Monarch smiled arrogantly, "heh!". However, immediately, he was drowned with a devastating BOOM! It made the Death Monarch looked and observe. Suddenly, BOOM! A second shockwave rippled outwards, stronger this time, causing the Monarch''s robe to flutter slightly, though his posture did not waver. He raised an eyebrow, the mocking smile vanishing, replaced by a glint of¡­ interest? A third shockwave exploded outward, BOOOM!! then a fourth, BOOOOOMMM!! each one growing more intense than the last. The Monarch''s eyes narrowed, his posture shifting ever so slightly as he observed with a calculating gaze. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Each impact followed swiftly after the last, like rolling thunder, creating layer upon layer of invisible pressure that weighed down on everything around it. The seventh shockwave hit, sending cracks ripping through the earth, deepening the fractures as the pressure continued to grow. And with the eighth shockwave, the Monarch''s amusement faded completely. His eyes narrowed in contemplation, "what do we have here?" He muttered, and then he subtly and surprisingly took a single, reluctant step back. He was thinking something was wrong here. He was right. Almost immediately, the Death Monarch noticed something. His death knights, once unwavering in their ranks, now began to shiver, their armor rattling as though responding to some primal force. KLANG! KLANG! KLANG! The Monarch''s lips thinned, his eyes sharpening as he sensed the deathly energies in his knights reacting, vibrating with each pulse. Ninth shockwave. The rattling grew louder, an unnatural symphony of metal grinding against itself, filling the air with a sharp, shrill whine. Each knight trembled, KLANG KLANG KLAAAANG! their forms shifting erratically, the deathly energy that bound them shuddering under the relentless force. Then came the final shockwave¡ªthe tenth. BOOOOOOM! The ground quaked violently, and with a deafening crescendo, the shockwave detonated with such ferocity that even the Monarch, for the first time, seemed to tense, his eyes widening as he sensed the scale of what was to come. The death knights shuddered once more, and then¡ªKABOOM! One by one, they began to detonate, each armored form exploding with a force that sent dark energy scattering in all directions. The sound was immense, a cataclysmic chorus of destruction as each knight burst apart, fragments of armor flying, torn into shrapnel by the raw force tearing them apart. And with each detonation, a fresh surge of energy rocked the battlefield. The Monarch''s gaze tightened, his interest now fully piqued as he watched his army of knights reduced to nothing, their forms erupting into clouds of dust and dark mist. He clenched his jaw, his expression shifting from disdain to something more calculating. As the last of the death knights exploded, Volk stood there, his chest heaving, his entire form radiating a fierce, primal energy. He glared at the Monarch, his eyes blazing with fury, his fists clenched tight. And the Monarch, his own aura now flickering in response to the power Volk had unleashed, offered him a thin, humorless smile. "Interesting," he murmured, his voice echoing across the now-silent battlefield. Chapter 179 Change of heart However, after the Death Monarch''s lips twisted into a smirk and muttered, "Interesting¡­", as he clasped his hands together, readying to summon more of his dark necromagic, he froze.His eyes narrowed in sudden alarm as a subtle tremor rose beneath him, something that felt alive¡ªno, more than alive. The sensation was raw, pure, and ancient. He could feel its intent, a force like the earth itself surging toward him, emanating violence with an unstoppable, primal will. Suddenly, the ground beneath him pulsed with an invisible rhythm, echoing from deep within, like a heartbeat turned weapon. "Just an earth spell," he murmured dismissively, summoning a wave of low-level necromantic energy around himself as a shield. The dark aura rose, forming a barrier around him in swirling shades of black and crimson. He sneered, prepared to feel the reverberation dissipate harmlessly against his magic. "Volsorana Acho-" But then¡ªwhoosh! He was not given a time to change as an echo pulse surged straight through his barrier, slipping past the dark energies as though they were nothing but mist before it. The Monarch''s smirk vanished, "huh?" his eyes going wide with shock as the force hit him directly, a pure and relentless blast of raw earth energy that he could neither redirect nor dispel. BOOOOM! The impact drove through his entire being with the violence of a landslide, an unstoppable force that tore through every cell, every thread of his existence. He could feel it ripping through his veins, coursing through his blood like liquid fire, making each vessel strain, bulge, then erupt under the sheer pressure of it. His blood turned against him, boiling in his veins, searing his insides as it raced through his body with relentless, merciless force. CRACK! His bones splintered as if they were nothing more than dry twigs, fracturing under the weight of the tremor that coursed through him. His limbs twisted, his spine arching as waves of energy blasted through him again and again, relentless and vicious. The bones in his hands shattered first, his fingers snapping backward like fragile branches caught in a storm, the sharp pain shooting through him like lightning. The echo tore into his muscles next, shredding each fiber with violent precision, turning sinew and flesh to pulpy masses. His skin rippled as the energy burst beneath it, tearing it open from the inside out. His stomach twisted, churning in agony as the raw magic invaded his organs, making him feel as though he were being eviscerated from within, his organs crushed and pulverized one by one. And then it reached his head. His eyes widened, pupils contracting in sheer terror as the force bore into his skull, compressing his brain within his cranium. His vision blurred, then turned to red as blood vessels ruptured, pouring hot streams of blood from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. His jaw slackened, a guttural scream escaping as he felt his spirit itself being rent apart, the tremor vibrating his very soul, shaking it with a power that made it seem as if he might be shattered at any moment. When the final wave of the tremor subsided, leaving his form a bloodied, trembling mess, he gasped for breath, HAAAAAAAH! each inhale rattling as though his lungs were struggling to stay whole. The Death Monarch raised his head, his face twisted with a grotesque blend of agony and ecstasy. Blood dripped from his mouth in thick rivulets, staining his teeth as he bared them in a twisted smile. His hands twitches uncontrollably, still gripped in pain, yet he looked at Volk with a newfound glee. The Monarch''s laughter began low, a soft chuckle, but it quickly escalated, his maniacal laughter echoing across the battlefield. "KHAHAHAHA! Oh, yes! So this is your secret, isn''t it?" His voice was trembling with exhilaration, an almost insane glee shining in his bloodstained eyes. "You wield Earth Magic, and not just brute strength! And to my surprise, not just any Earth Magic¡ªa spirit-bound magic of the earth itself! A power that attacks everything, everything, even the spirit! KHAHAHAHA!" He paused to cough up blood, his whole body convulsing, yet his laughter only grew wilder, more unhinged. "A magic that grows in strength with each entity it strikes, an echo that compounds and compounds, feeding on its own force, like a rolling avalanche that only grows in power! KHAHA! Every pulse, every tremor¡­ it builds and builds!" His voice was a madman''s whisper, reverent and feverish as he stared at Volk, his eyes ablaze with a strange, twisted reverence. "You¡ªyou are a weapon, a beautiful, brutal weapon forged from the earth itself! You think you are a warrior, but you are an instrument of annihilation, a tool of destruction like none I have ever seen! And now¡­ I will make you mine!" The Monarch''s face contorted into a manic grin, his blood-streaked face a mask of grotesque delight. "Together, you and I, we will tear through the realms! I had no interest in filthy creatures like you before, but now¡­" He tilted his head, his grin widening even further. "You will be my hammer, my destroyer. We will crush everything beneath our feet, every realm will bow to us¡ªevery human, every creature, every god and spirit! We will bring this power, this earth-rending echo of yours, to every world. They will all fall!" Hearing this, Volk''s eyes flared, a storm of fury and defiance blazing within them. His fists clenched, and his whole body seemed to pulse with rage, his muscles tensing like coiled springs ready to unleash their wrath. "NONE SHALL ENSLAVE VOOOOOOLK!!" He roared, his voice a titanic bellow that resounded through the battlefield, shaking the ground beneath him. The Death Monarch sneered, his face twisted with smug amusement as he raised a finger and pointed at Volk, immobilized and furious. "That''s not for you to decide, ogre," he said with a voice that dripped with condescension. He raised his hands, fingers weaving intricate patterns in the air, his voice dropping to a murmur as he began to chant. The air around him grew thick, heavy with a dark and ancient energy, and the language he spoke was older than time itself, each syllable vibrating through the bones of every creature within earshot. "By blood of bone and death''s decree, Let limbs fall numb, and spirit flee. By night''s embrace and cold decay, All life and strength I now betray!" The darkness pulsed out from him in waves, black tendrils snaking from the ground beneath Volk, spiraling up around his legs and torso, wrapping him like a relentless, icy vise. The tendrils clung to his skin, slipping beneath it, twisting into his muscles, sending jolts of necrotic energy that felt like frozen iron piercing through his flesh. The magic seemed to sapped his strength slowly, binding his immense limbs to the very earth, rooting him down with a weight that grew denser with each second. His shoulders began to slump, his knees buckling as if carrying the weight of the mountains. His breath came out in labored heaves, his lungs fighting against an invisible pressure that constricted his every movement. "By silence''s call and eternal night, Continue your adventure at empire I steal your will and claim my right. Bound you are to endless sleep, Your soul, your might, I now do keep!" The tendrils tightened, digging deeper, twisting into his very being, their freezing energy spreading through his veins like ice-cold poison. Volk''s mighty muscles strained, bulging against the restraints, but every surge of resistance only seemed to feed the dark magic, wrapping around him more tightly, sapping his will and forcing his powerful form still. His arms lay pinned against his sides, his legs frozen mid-stride, his chest heaving in shallow, painful breaths as the Death Monarch completed his spell. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 180 Skeletal abyssal hounds With a satisfied smile, the Death Monarch straightened, dusting off his hands, as if the spellwork had been nothing more than an idle task.He sauntered toward Volk with leisurely arrogance, his injuries from Volk''s previous assault seeming to have vanished entirely, his stance tall and unscathed. He stopped a mere feet away, staring up at the immobilized ogre with a look that was equal parts fascination and disdain. "You are a truly magnificent creature, I''ll give you that," he said, eyeing Volk like a rare trophy on display. "Under my rule, you''ll find many¡­ rewards. Allow me to enlighten you on what you could enjoy." He paced in front of Volk, his voice dripping with smug superiority as he began his list. "First," he said, smirking as he held up a single finger, "imagine the glory of unstoppable power at your fingertips. You will be equipped with magic forged from realms beyond mortal understanding, spells that could tear through steel, through souls. "A weapon like you would be enhanced to strike fear into any who cross our path. You would feel power coursing through you that you could never achieve alone¡ªa transformation that would make even your current strength seem pitiful. "I could make you a true champion of darkness, revered by the damned, feared by the living." He let his hand fall to his side, circling Volk slowly, inspecting him like a craftsman appraising a prized piece of art. He spoke slowly, savoring each word. "Second," he continued, his voice silken with malice, "I could offer you dominion over the realms we conquer. Entire cities would bow to your will, fear your name, and fall to their knees at your presence. Your journey continues on empire "I would give you the authority to crush anyone who dares displease you. Imagine entire legions at your command, beings both dead and alive who would follow your orders without hesitation. "You could reign over a kingdom of ruin, unchallenged and unstoppable, ruling with a fist of iron. Is that not the truest form of dominance?" He came to a stop directly in front of Volk, peering up into his enraged eyes with a taunting gleam. He lowered his voice, letting his words drip into Volk''s mind like venom. "Third," he continued, his voice darker, more seductive, "you would have access to immortality. No more of this temporary strength that fades with wounds, no more fear of death lurking in the shadows. "With me, you would live on eternally, your strength preserved forever. You could tear down kingdoms, rip apart armies, and you would never grow old, never falter. "All that power, locked within you, free from decay, untouched by time. An everlasting legend, feared across all realms." He chuckled, running a finger along Volk''s immobilized arm, tracing the muscles that quivered with suppressed fury beneath his spell. "And lastly, the greatest reward of all¡­ You would become my right hand in conquest. Together, we would sweep across the planes of existence, breaking down the barriers between life and death, mortal and immortal. "You and I would bring chaos to the heavens, extinguishing the light of every kingdom that opposes us. You would stand at my side as we carve our legacy into the very fabric of reality, etched into the cosmos." The Monarch leaned closer, his voice a whisper that pulsed with dark promises. "You would be unstoppable. Together, we would be gods." But as his voice faded, a low, dangerous growl rumbled from Volk, shattering the silence. GrrrRRRRRRR!! S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Despite the tendrils of necromantic energy restraining him, his body began to twitch slowly, with his muscles quivering under the sheer strain of resistance. The Monarch''s gaze shifted from smug confidence to narrowed interest as he watched Volk''s body tremble, fighting back against the magic holding him in place. "V¡­ VOOOOLLLKK!!" The name erupted from Volk''s throat like a thunderclap, his voice echoing across the landscape. Veins pulsed in his arms, his muscles bulging and straining against the restraints, his entire body thrumming with an unyielding aura of raw power. It radiated off him in waves, a deep, vibrant energy that pulsed against the Monarch''s dark magic, causing the very earth to quake. The Monarch frowned, his brow furrowing as he sensed the surge of magical aura intensifying around Volk, a fury that felt like a gathering storm ready to unleash its wrath. He took a step back, a flicker of unease crossing his face as Volk''s muscles bulged, his aura blazing with a ferocity that seemed boundless, limitless. "WOOOOOON''T BE¡­" Volk''s voice growled, his eyes blazing like twin infernos, his entire being vibrating with a power that defied any attempt to bind it. The ground beneath him cracked, the earth itself seeming to resonate with his defiance as the necromantic restraints strained, fraying under the pressure of his growing aura. "UNDER ANYOOOOOOOOONE!!" Volk roared, his voice splitting the air, shattering the silence in a deafening explosion of sound that tore through the battlefield. His aura burst forth like a tidal wave, exploding with a violent force that sent shockwaves rippling outward, disrupting the Monarch''s dark magic in a spectacular display of raw energy. The tendrils binding him unraveled, disintegrating under the sheer magnitude of his power. KRA-BOOOM! The explosion of his aura sent debris flying, chunks of earth hurtling in every direction as the ground around him splintered, cracked, and erupted in a tempest of dust and shattered rock. The shockwave slammed into the Monarch, forcing him to stagger back, his eyes widening as he took in the sheer magnitude of Volk''s unbridled strength. The Death Monarch sneered, eyes gleaming with dark amusement as he tilted his head, watching Volk stagger to his feet. "It seems," he sneered, voice dripping with mockery, "I must convince you with more than mere words, since reasoning appears beneath you, ogre." He clenched his fist, dark energy crackling around his knuckles like storm clouds gathering over a cursed sea. Then, in a single, fluid and solid move, he lunged forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. BANG! His fist connected squarely with Volk''s chest, and an eruption of force rippled outward. Volk''s massive frame was hurled through the air, crashing into the distant ground with a thunderous impact that shook the earth, scattering dust and rocks in every direction. Before the dust could settle, the Death Monarch lowered his gaze and spread his hands wide, black tendrils of necromantic energy trailing from his fingertips as he pressed his palms against the ground. From the soil below, two portals opened, spilling forth a sickly green and crimson light that bathed the battlefield in an eerie glow. A low growl, guttural and menacing, echoed from within each portal, sending an icy chill rippling through the air. Then, with a burst of dark necromantic energy, two monstrous skeletal hounds clawed their way into existence. Each hound towered at a height that rivaled Volk himself, their skeletal bodies composed of blackened bones as thick as iron, intertwined with veins of pulsing, crimson energy. Their skulls were crowned with wickedly sharp horns, curved and menacing, and their jaws were lined with jagged teeth that glistened with deathly poison, dripping onto the ground, sizzling as it burned into the dirt. Their eye sockets blazed with a malevolent green fire, burning with an unholy hunger that promised nothing but ruin. Around their bodies, an aura of death and destruction energy oozed, swirling like a thick mist, as if the very essence of decay radiated from their forms. Skeletal abyssal hounds! Chapter 181 Test of Strength The Death Monarch smirked and extended a single finger toward Volk. "Beat him up until his feet can no longer stand back up," he commanded, his voice low and resonant, the sound of it like a death toll vibrating through the air.The two skeletal hounds lunged forward, their bodies moving with surprising speed, every step they took leaving scorch marks on the ground. As Volk struggled to his feet, they were upon him, their razor-sharp claws tearing through the air, each swipe leaving trails of death energy that crackled in their wake. Volk let out a thunderous roar, defiant and unyielding, as he braced himself, his muscles bulging with newfound fury. He swung his massive fists, one toward each hound, his movements a symphony of brute strength and raw rage. CRASH! His right fist connected with the jaw of the first hound, shattering several of its fangs with a sickening crunch, sending shards of bone flying. The creature stumbled back, its unholy fire flickering as it reoriented, eyes blazing brighter with rage. SLASH! The second hound seized the opening, slashing down with its claws, carving deep into Volk''s side. The necrotic energy seared his flesh, burning into his muscles as it attempted to weaken him. Volk''s face twisted in pain, "UURRRGGGHHH!!" but he ignored it, and one could see that his anger was only intensifying. He swung back, KABARG! catching the second hound by the skull and slamming it to the ground with a roar of fury. BAM! Dust and bone fragments scattered as he pressed the beast down, his raw strength pinning it briefly. But the hounds were relentless. The first creature recovered and lunged at his back, sinking its fangs into his shoulder, piercing deep with the venomous energy radiating from its maw. A jolt of weakness surged through him, and he gritted his teeth, feeling as if his strength was being drained with every second the creature clung to him. With a furious snarl, he swung his arm back, grasping the hound by its skull, and hurled it across the battlefield, sending it skidding across the ground in a tangle of blackened bones and necrotic flames. Yet, even as the beasts fell back, they didn''t hesitate. They regrouped, the fires in their eyes flaring with renewed hunger, as if his attacks had only spurred them to fight harder. The hounds circled him, moving in unison, waiting for an opening, their predatory instincts honed to perfection. One lunged low, snapping at his legs, while the other leaped high, aiming for his throat with claws outstretched. Volk swung his fist in a wide arc, catching the first hound mid-air and slamming it down with a thunderous BOOM!, but the second one managed to sink its claws into his thigh, raking down with brutal efficiency, tearing through flesh. Blood ran down Volk''s leg, but he barely noticed, his vision clouded with rage as he threw the hound off with a mighty shove. His breathing was heavy, ragged, and he could feel the strength ebbing from his muscles, as though the very energy within him was slipping away. He gritted his teeth, his fury blazing as he struck out again, his fists colliding with bone and necrotic energy in a clash that sent shockwaves through the air. Yet every impact seemed to take a toll on him, his limbs feeling heavier, his movements just a fraction slower with each exchange. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Then, as he delivered a crushing blow to one of the hounds, BARRGGHH!! sending it sprawling across the ground, he felt a strange, chilling sensation creep over him-a sense of weakness, like his very life force was being siphoned away. It was then he realized, with growing alarm, that his strength was indeed being drained. His muscles felt like they were straining against an invisible weight, his once-mighty fists slowing as if burdened by an unseen force. His eyes flicked back to the Death Monarch, who stood watching with an infuriatingly calm expression, arms folded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ¡­ The Death Monarch''s lips curled into a sinister smile as he watched Volk struggle, his curiosity piqued by the ogre''s stubborn resilience. Each time the brute rose, snarling and bleeding, he seemed just a shade stronger, his fury acting as fuel, making his strength climb. But how? The thought intrigued him¡ªan ogre that drew power from anger, growing stronger each time it was knocked down? That, he had to see more of. Stretching his bony fingers, the Death Monarch murmured an incantation, his voice a low, echoing chant that seemed to pull the very shadows around him. Dark energy rippled through the air, coiling from his fingertips like smoke. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he opened several shimmering portals, each radiating a different aura¡ªone thick with toxic fumes, another crackling with electric sparks, a third emitting a chilling frost, and yet another leaking molten lava that dripped onto the ground, sizzling and hissing. From these rifts stepped beasts unlike any Volk had faced. The first creature lumbered forward, an abomination of bulging muscles and slick, glistening skin that dripped with green, noxious liquid, leaving a trail of rot in its wake. Its face was hidden beneath a hood of sagging flesh, but the fanged mouth beneath it twisted in a grotesque smile. This was the Venomous Devourer¡ªa beast that oozed poison from every pore, able to rot anything it touched. Its breath alone made the air turn thick and sour, and Volk could feel the burn of it even from a distance. Behind the Devourer came another creature, its form slender but coiled tight with lean, sinewy muscle. Its eyes gleamed with a feral intelligence, and its entire body crackled with volatile electricity, arcs of lightning surging over its spiny back. This was the Thunder Lurker, a beast that hunted by charging the air with electricity, unleashing blasts of lightning strong enough to turn stone to ash. A third beast emerged, its body massive and plated with ice that shimmered like diamonds under a pale blue glow. Each of its steps left frost in its wake, the ground beneath it freezing solid as the creature let out a low, growling snarl. The Icebound Colossus loomed with a frigid aura, exhaling clouds of freezing mist that made Volk''s breath catch, his skin pricking painfully with cold. The final beast stomped forward, its entire body a shifting mass of molten rock and fire. Its skin bubbled and cracked, rivers of lava coursing along its limbs as it moved. This was the Inferno Behemoth, a creature born of fire, leaving smoldering footprints that set the ground ablaze. The Death Monarch raised a hand, gesturing toward Volk as if presenting him with a gift wrapped in dark magic. "Ogre," he called out, his voice smooth and taunting, "you claim to grow stronger with anger. Let''s test that claim, shall we?" He smirked, his tone laced with amusement. "Each of these¡­ champions have a gift you''ll find most unpleasant. Try not to bore me." Volk bared his teeth, GRRRRR his massive chest heaving, eyes narrowing as the creatures surrounded him. His gaze locked onto the Death Monarch for just a moment, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. Then, with a thunderous roar, he charged the nearest beast¡ªthe Venomous Devourer¡ªhis fists raised, ready to crush it into the ground. But the Devourer was ready. As Volk closed the distance, it opened its gaping maw, spraying a thick, green mist that enveloped the air around him. HSSSSSS! The toxic cloud stung his eyes and choked his lungs, and he could feel his skin tingling, burning as the poison clung to him. Volk staggered, his strength faltering under the onslaught. His vision blurred, the edges of his mind hazy with the sickly fumes. Experience more on empire "RAAAAAH!" With a furious bellow, he swung his fists through the cloud, his anger pushing him forward. His fist connected with the Devourer''s skull with a crunch, sending a sickening shockwave up his arm, but even as the creature reeled back, Volk''s hand burned, the poison eating into his skin. He roared in pain, "UGAAARRGGHH!! slapping the toxins away, shaking his hand furiously as the venom seemed to cling, eating through muscle and bone with a vicious persistence. Before he could recover, the Thunder Lurker was upon him. The beast darted forward, lightning fast, a blur of crackling energy. With a hiss, it sank its claws into Volk''s side, unleashing a bolt of pure electricity that surged through his body. ZZZZZZAP! His muscles seized, his limbs locked as the electricity coursed through him, frying nerve and muscle alike. Smoke curled from his skin as the Lurker''s claws dug deeper, its grip unrelenting, its eyes alight with sadistic glee. Chapter 182 More more more "GAAAAHHH!" .Volk''s scream was one of both fury and agony, his mind on fire with the raw, blistering pain. But through the haze of suffering, his rage only grew. He could feel something primal and dark welling up within him, a force that fed on his pain, that made his blood boil and his vision go red. With a sudden burst of strength, he broke free, slamming a fist down onto the Lurker''s head with all his might. CRASH! The Lurker hit the ground hard, but even as it skidded back, Volk''s legs buckled. He barely had time to catch his breath before the Icebound Colossus lumbered forward, its massive shadow falling over him. A bone-chilling cold radiated from the creature, so intense that Volk''s skin turned pale, frost creeping up his limbs. With a guttural growl, the Colossus swung a massive, icy fist, hitting Volk square in the chest. THOOM! The impact drove the air from his lungs, ice crystals forming around his chest as the shock of cold penetrated him to the core. His muscles felt stiff, his bones aching from the frost. But even as his breath came out in short, pained gasps, the rage inside him burned hotter. His skin glowed faintly, a deep, pulsing red that seemed to grow with every blow he took, his fury simmering into something tangible. The Inferno Behemoth, seeing its moment, raised a molten fist and brought it crashing down. Volk barely managed to roll aside, the ground erupting in flames as lava spilled across the battlefield. The Behemoth let out a rumbling roar, lifting its fist again, preparing to bring it down on Volk with a final, crushing blow. But Volk''s anger had reached a fever pitch. His entire body was glowing, veins pulsing as his strength surged. He let out a bellowing roar, muscles bulging as he charged at the Behemoth. He felt the intense heat, the skin on his arms blistering and charring as he punched through the molten barrier, ignoring the pain, his focus solely on the Death Monarch''s creatures. With a force that defied reason, Volk''s fist connected with the Behemoth''s chest, shattering the molten shell and sending chunks of magma flying in all directions. The Behemoth stumbled, its molten insides exposed, but even as it began to collapse, the venom, ice, and shock of the previous attacks lingered, weakening him from within. The Death Monarch watched with fascination, his eyes gleaming with twisted admiration. He watched the ogre rise from the destruction, his hulking form shifting, each breath drawing in more power, more fury. He couldn''t help but be impressed. Volk''s wounds, which had just moments ago marred his flesh, were knitting themselves back together with an eerie speed. His muscles pulsed, veins bulging like iron cords as if pulling in the very essence of life around him, siphoning strength from the very air. A sudden, raucous laugh tore from the Death Monarch''s throat, echoing across the battlefield like the crack of thunder. "Yes! YES! Impress me, Ogre!" he roared, his voice dripping with elation. Find exclusive stories on empire "You''re far more resilient than I ever dared to imagine! Each blow should have shattered you, each strike should have broken that pitiful flesh, yet here you stand¡ªstronger than ever! Hah! The power of your fury¡ªit''s¡­ it''s breathtaking!" His voice reverberated, rising to a fever pitch as he observed the transformation, a twisted hunger in his gaze. His skeletal fingers twitched with the urge to summon more, to test every fiber of Volk''s strength. "Look at you!" he bellowed, his tone filled with both mockery and admiration, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "An ogre, a mere brute of flesh and bone, yet your spirit¡ªyes, it grows with each strike! You absorb pain as though it were nectar, and turn it into a weapon! A weapon forged in the fires of wrath and honed on the blade of suffering! Hahaha! Oh, how delightful!" With an almost reverent expression, he stepped forward, arms wide, as if welcoming Volk into his fold. "Do you realize what you are, Ogre? Do you understand the potential you hold?" He spoke each word with a theatrical flourish, his voice filled with a twisted reverence. "Imagine you, leading my armies, a colossus at the forefront, each strike of your fists raining devastation upon all who stand in our way! "Every kingdom, every fortress, every realm would crumble under your might! None could hope to stand against the combined force of your fury and my magic!" He gestured expansively, his bony hands casting shadows that seemed to dance with dark energy. "Picture it, Ogre or should I call you my Warchief VOOOLK¡ªthe lands burning, cities leveled to dust, entire civilizations bowing or breaking under the weight of our conquest! And you, my unstoppable juggernaut, my Titan of Wrath! The realms would tremble at the mere whisper of your name. ''The Death Monarch and his Unbreakable Ogre!''" His laughter rippled like a sickening lullaby, his mouth twisted in a crazed grin. "But I wonder¡­" he mused, his voice dipping into a contemplative tone, the mania in his eyes sharpening. "I wonder¡ªwhat is your limit, beast? How far can you go before your flesh gives way, before your bones shatter?" . His eyes glowed with an almost childlike curiosity. "I want to see it! I must see it! I want to know what lies at the very peak of your power, to witness the apex of an ogre''s strength! Do you hear me? Show me! SHOW ME THE FURY THAT DRIVES YOU TO DEFY EVEN DEATH!" His voice grew louder, each word rising like a crescendo, his excitement spilling over in waves of unrestrained delight. "Imagine it, ogre¡ªa power so vast, so absolute, that the heavens themselves would bow before us! I could give you kingdoms to crush, empires to trample! "You, the wrathful storm that wipes clean the slate of this world, and I, the orchestrator of it all! We would be legends!" He threw his arms wide, eyes blazing with frenzied anticipation. "A tale for eternity¡ªa tale of blood and ruin, of chaos and conquest!" "But it doesn''t end there, does it, Volk?" His voice dropped, almost a whisper, eyes narrowing as they bored into Volk''s own. "You, with your boundless rage, your insatiable hunger for power¡ªyou could become the force of death itself! My armies, my creatures¡ªthey would bend to you. "Every fallen warrior, every slain beast, would be reborn under your command. You, the Commander of the Undead! Imagine the power, the immortality that could be yours, Ogre!" The Death Monarch leaned forward, hands clenched, his voice trembling with his own fevered excitement. "Don''t you see? Under my guidance, you could rise above this world, a god of carnage, a beast that devours all who oppose you. But tell me, Volk," he sneered, his tone both mocking and tempting, "is your rage truly boundless? Do you have what it takes to reach the pinnacle of strength? I have witnessed countless creatures break under the weight of their own power, seen champions crumble when faced with true darkness." He paused, his skeletal fingers curling as dark energy pulsed through them, his grin widening as he reveled in his twisted vision. "You could be so much more. But only if you give in. Only if you surrender to the fury, to the bloodlust. Only then will you reach heights beyond mortal comprehension. You, leading an army of the dead, unstoppable, undying! An inferno of hatred and wrath that consumes everything in its path." He threw his head back and laughed, the sound an unholy symphony of madness and excitement. "YES, OGRE! Prove to me that you are worthy of this power! Show me the wrath that has brought you back from the brink time and time again! Make me believe that you are the one who will bring ruin to the realms alongside me!" As his laughter subsided, his gaze locked onto Volk, his grin both challenging and hungry. "What are you waiting for, brute? Show me everything!" Chapter 183 DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE, VOOOOOOLLK!!! A deep, guttural roar tore through Volk''s throat as he staggered to his feet, fury burning like molten steel in his veins.The raw, primal rage within him boiled over, a force that refused to be contained, swelling with each blow, with each pulse of pain. His muscles bulged larger, fibers stretching under the relentless pressure of his own wrath. He could feel his strength multiplying, the sensation like an unending tide crashing within his core, driving him to rise, to fight harder, to destroy anything that dared stand in his path. But the Death Monarch only laughed, his mirth a twisted melody that filled the air, echoing off the shadowed cliffs and broken stones surrounding them. His bony hands flickered in the air, weaving intricate patterns as he called forth more undead monstrosities. Massive skeletal warriors, some towering above Volk, emerged from fissures in the earth, their bones fused with shadow and enchanted metal that radiated dark energy. Snarling hounds with empty, flame-lit eyes bounded toward Volk, their jaws dripping with black, corrosive drool that hissed as it splattered against the ground. "YES!" the Death Monarch shrieked, voice crackling with madness. "Rage, beast! Feed that endless fury! Each drop of blood, every howl of agony¡ªit only makes you stronger, doesn''t it?" He extended a skeletal finger, sending a pulse of dark magic toward Volk. "Let''s see just how deep this rage runs!" As Volk took a shuddering step forward, a sickly green bolt of magic struck his chest, crackling against his skin like acid. The magic dug deep, searing through layers of muscle, burning its way to the bone. A guttural growl escaped him, his massive fists clenching as he stumbled but refused to fall. His eyes blazed red with rage, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought against the intense pain. Yet, with each ounce of torment, his body responded, pulsing with more strength, his muscles hardening like iron, his skin tightening, regenerating around the wound even as the pain continued to pulse. The Death Monarch''s laughter only grew, his skeletal form twitching in sheer ecstasy. "Marvelous!" he spat, watching as Volk''s very being absorbed the pain, transmuting it into power. "More! Let''s see how much more you can take!" Another flick of his wrist, and a shimmering bolt of necrotic energy blasted from his hand. It struck Volk in the leg, tearing into his flesh, charring the skin and exposing the muscle beneath. Volk roared in agony, the sound reverberating through the night like thunder. Yet, as he struggled to keep upright, his flesh began to knit itself back together, thicker, stronger, the new muscle coiling with raw power. "Come on, brute!" the Death Monarch taunted, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "Does that hurt? Or is that just another fuel for the fire?" He lifted his hand, his fingers crackling with dark energy, and loosed a barrage of smaller spells. Each one was a shard of concentrated pain¡ªsmall, quick, but devastating, tearing into Volk like barbs. His arms, his torso, his legs¡ªall seared with fresh wounds as the magic bit into him. Yet with every blast, with every strike, Volk grew larger, his rage swelling, eclipsing the pain. The ogre''s form quaked, his breathing now a guttural, booming noise that rattled his chest. He planted one massive foot into the ground, the earth trembling as his strength surged, unstoppable. His eyes gleamed, blazing with unfiltered fury, a fury that knew no bounds, that refused to be quenched. The Death Monarch''s excitement was now nearing frenzy. His skeletal form quivered, hands weaving new spells with fervor, his eyes gleaming with wild joy. "Yes! YES!" he shrieked, now casting larger and stronger spells with each pulse of Volk''s wrath. "You are indeed a wonder, a glorious beast of rage! Each spell¡ªeach flicker of agony¡ªonly fans the flames, doesn''t it?" He raised both hands high, and dark energy crackled around him, forming into dense orbs that radiated menace, swirling with concentrated malice. With a cackle, he loosed the orbs, each one streaking toward Volk like a falling star. They exploded upon impact, erupting in plumes of vile green and purple fire, tearing fresh wounds into Volk''s flesh. The pain seared, white-hot and unrelenting, yet Volk did not falter. The wounds closed almost as fast as they opened, the magic fueling the regeneration, feeding his rage. The Death Monarch watched in delight, his face twisted into a grin so wide it threatened to split his skull. He was consumed with fascination, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. "Incredible! Truly incredible! Tell me, brute¡ªdoes it hurt? Or does it simply make you stronger? Do you even know the limits of your rage? Can it carry you to the ends of power itself?" He took a step forward, his skeletal feet scraping the earth. "Perhaps I need to bring out more. Yes¡­ more to test the very boundaries of your might!" Summoning another spell, he twisted his hands, summoning an enormous wave of dark energy that swept across the ground like a tidal wave. Volk was engulfed, his body battered by the crashing wave of necromantic power, but as it washed over him, his strength surged even further, each new injury another reason for his wrath to swell. The ground quaked under his weight as he roared, his voice echoing across the landscape, shaking the very stones beneath them. "YES!" the Death Monarch screeched, his voice a fevered pitch. "Fight, ogre! Rise from the ashes of your own pain and show me the true might of your fury!" ¡­ On the other hand, the jeering laughter of the Death Monarch echoed, taunting Volk with every bone-chilling cackle. Each spell the Death Monarch cast felt like another insult, another challenge, his dark magic swirling around Volk as if the ogre was some pet under his control. But Volk was no one''s pet. Through the haze of fury and pain, memories began to surface¡ªfragmented, blurred by rage but clear enough to feel, clear enough to cut into him deeper than any dark spell ever could. In his past life, he''d been weak. Fragile. He remembered that narrow hospital bed, the one he''d practically lived in, and the sterile white walls that he couldn''t escape from. He could still feel the cold metal of the wheelchair that had been his prison, trapping him in a body too frail to fight back. He''d been born with bones that could snap, lungs that labored for every breath, muscles that refused to carry him. And in that life, he was ignored, shoved aside, treated as though he were invisible or worse¡ªas if he were nothing. He remembered the cruel laughter of children, the taunts of "cripple" thrown his way with no remorse. The adults had been no better, their pity-filled eyes stinging more than any insult ever could. He''d seen their looks, their soft, meaningless words of sympathy that they didn''t mean, only offered because they felt they had to. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They looked at him and saw someone weak, someone to be pitied, someone incapable. In his chest, something coiled tighter, a well of bitterness and fury that had waited a lifetime to burst. And here he was again¡ªmocked, underestimated, treated as if he were still that helpless boy in the wheelchair. The Death Monarch''s twisted smirk, his hollow laughter, the way he looked down on Volk like he was no more than an insect to be toyed with¡ªit was too much. The memory of all that weakness, all that indignity, clashed with the towering power he felt now, this strength that raged inside him, begging to be unleashed. His breath came in deep, shuddering gulps, his chest heaving as every fiber of his being burned. He clenched his fists, his fingers digging into his palms, drawing blood, the pain mingling with the raw fury boiling within him. And then, he threw his head back, his voice a primal roar that shook the air itself. Experience exclusive tales on empire "DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE¡ªVOOOOOOLLLK!" The sound echoed across the battlefield, thunderous, defiant. The power within him ignited like wildfire, racing through his veins with such intensity that his vision blurred. His muscles surged, every inch of his massive form swelling with newfound strength, the sheer force of it tearing through his skin, which regenerated instantly, stronger than before. Chapter 184 EMPOWERMENT The battlefield fell silent as every pair of eyes, Orc, Ogre, and Death Knight alike, turned toward the center where their Warchief was locked in a titanic struggle against the Death Monarch.Orcs and Ogres who had moments ago been crushed by the Death Knights'' relentless attacks now stood transfixed. Their bodies felt locked, rooted in place, as if some invisible chain held them fast, denying them even the instinct to flee. But all their eyes¡ªevery single one¡ªwere drawn to Volk. They had always known their Warchief was strong, fierce, even unmatched. But this...this was something else. This was a side of Volk they had never witnessed, a creature beyond any nightmare they could have imagined. Volk''s body was battered, his skin charred and sliced from the Death Monarch''s spells, yet he rose again and again, each time stronger, each time fiercer. His muscles bulged, ripping and tearing under the pressure only to reform, denser and more resilient. Energy poured from him, a dark and chaotic aura that was almost tangible, warping the air around him in waves of rippling heat. Even the ground under his feet cracked and crumbled from the force of his presence, as if the earth itself couldn''t bear to hold his weight. And then, Volk screamed. It wasn''t a scream of pain or fear. It was a raw, animalistic roar¡ªa sound of defiance, of pure rage that thundered across the battlefield. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It was a scream born from lifetimes of suffering and resentment, a roar that echoed with the fury of every indignity he had ever endured. His voice was deep, primal, shaking the very ground beneath him, shattering the eerie silence that had fallen over the field. "VAAAAAAAGHHHHH!!" The force of his scream sent shockwaves rippling through the air, a physical pressure that battered those around him. Even the Death Knights, so unfeeling and unbreakable, seemed to waver in their steps, their hollow eyes flickering with the slightest hint of hesitation. Orcs and Ogres felt their knees buckle under the sheer weight of his voice. Some clutched their ears, trying to block out the brutal force of the sound, but it was inescapable¡ªa howl of power that pulsed through bone and muscle, vibrating in their very cores. The Death Monarch, who had been arrogantly smirking, watching Volk with something close to amusement, suddenly found himself taken aback. This Ogre¡ªthis raw, untamed beast¡ªwas a force he hadn''t fully understood. The Death Monarch''s smile faded, replaced by a calculating, wary expression as Volk''s energy continued to surge, spiraling into an almost monstrous aura around him. Volk''s eyes blazed with a dark fire, his fangs bared in a snarl so fierce it bordered on madness. Every insult, every ounce of disrespect, every moment he''d been looked down upon was now fuel for his rage. He was not just an Ogre. He was something beyond, something terrifying, a living storm of hatred and strength. And then he roared again, louder this time, his voice carrying the fury of a thousand battles, the strength of a thousand lifetimes: "NO ONE¡ªCONTROLS¡ªVOLK!" With that scream, his aura exploded outward, a tempest of raw power that sent nearby Death Knights flying back, slamming them into the ground as if they weighed nothing. The Orcs and Ogres could only watch in stunned silence, their Warchief transforming before their eyes into a creature of legend¡ªa monster among monsters, a warrior who could shatter armies with his rage alone. The Death Monarch''s cold, calculating gaze hardened, but beneath his detached veneer, he could feel something unfamiliar¡ªan edge of unease creeping into his mind. Something is happening. ¡­ With a guttural roar, Volk surged forward, launching himself like a living cannonball straight at the Death Monarch. His powerful legs tore through the ground, muscles flexing, veins bulging. Every ounce of his being channeled into a single, devastating punch aimed directly at his opponent. The air crackled around his fist, an aura of primal power that seemed to scorch the very space it occupied. But the Death Monarch was swift. With a sneering expression, he sidestepped the strike, raising his knee into Volk''s torso with the precision of a master. THUD! The impact was brutal, folding Volk over in mid-air, the force launching him backward as if he weighed no more than a ragdoll. His body tumbled, rolling through the dirt, each impact sending tremors through the battlefield. Yet, before the dust even had time to settle, Volk was on his feet again. His face twisted in raw fury, blood trickling from his mouth, eyes blazing with undeterred defiance. He charged once more, roaring, his massive frame hurtling forward like an unstoppable juggernaut. The Death Monarch''s eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as he twisted, lifting his leg in a powerful roundhouse kick that crashed into Volk''s face. CRACK! The sickening sound of bone meeting bone echoed out as Volk''s jaw snapped sideways, his body hurtling through the air once again. He crashed into the earth with an impact that splintered the ground, KABAM creating a crater around him, dirt and debris flying outward. But there he was, rising to his feet almost immediately, fists clenched, eyes wild with fury. He snarled, low and guttural, like a beast cornered yet unbreakable. He spat blood onto the ground, the metallic taste fueling his anger even further. Without a second''s hesitation, Volk sprinted back, charging once again at the Death Monarch. The Death Monarch sneered, his amusement flickering into something else¡ªa hint of disdain, perhaps, but mixed with curiosity. He waited, watching as Volk came closer, and with a nonchalant twist of his torso, he slammed his elbow down onto Volk''s head. WHAM! The force of the strike buried Volk''s face into the ground, a shockwave erupting outward as his skull made contact with the earth. Volk lay motionless for a beat, buried in the ground. Dust rose in a thick cloud around him, the faint sounds of rock and rubble settling. The Orcs and Ogres held their breath, eyes wide with disbelief. Their Warchief, buried face-first in the dirt, struck down as if he were no more than an insect. But then, with a growl, the ground shifted. Slowly, Volk''s hand clawed upward, fingers grasping at the dirt as he lifted himself once more. His face was bloodied, his eyes gleaming with a furious light, unyielding and unbroken. And then, like a spring released, he shot forward, his body blurring in speed, his fist aimed right for the Death Monarch''s smug face. Explore more adventures at empire The Death Monarch''s eyes flickered with something akin to annoyance as he caught Volk''s fist mid-air, twisting and flipping him, sending him crashing down on his back with a brutal SLAM! The impact sent tremors across the battlefield, Volk''s body bouncing slightly from the force. But even as his vision blurred from the blow, he was already forcing himself back up, every ounce of pain seeming only to fuel the rage that coursed through his veins. Again and again, this brutal cycle continued. The Death Monarch would land a blow¡ªsometimes a punch, sometimes a savage kick or an almost mocking headbutt¡ªand each time, Volk would be sent sprawling, crashing into the earth, his bones rattling from the impact. Yet, every single time, he would rise again. The stronger the blow, the more furious he seemed. Each hit added fuel to the fire, a relentless force that defied even logic. BANG! Another punch. THUD! A merciless kick. CRACK! A headbutt that left Volk momentarily dazed, blood pouring from his forehead. But each time he was hurled back, he didn''t simply stand. No¡ªhe launched himself forward with even greater intensity, his body bouncing back as if the very act of being thrown away was empowering him. Each impact with the ground seemed to charge him, somehow feeding his strength back to him tenfold. Every time he was slammed down, it was as if some internal reservoir of rage and energy filled to the brim, surging through his veins like fire. The Death Monarch''s amusement slowly gave way to confusion. He could feel it now, that faint but unmistakable sensation¡ªthe Ogre''s power wasn''t just growing. It was sharpening, solidifying, each bounce, each impact giving him something new. He was absorbing the very momentum of his falls, drawing strength from every blow he sustained. Each time he crashed, he was reborn stronger, faster, more resilient. It was like nothing the Death Monarch had seen before, a raw, primal power evolving right before his eyes. The Death Monarch''s curiosity deepened, his cold eyes narrowing as he studied Volk''s every movement, every grimace of pain that twisted into a snarl of fury. This was no ordinary Ogre¡ªno mere brute relying on muscle alone. This creature, this Volk, was defying the natural order. Chapter 185 HUNDREDFOLD Volk''s body was a whirlwind of primal fury, his muscles pulsating with each step, each thunderous strike against the Death Monarch.His roars echoed across the field, a guttural bellow that grew stronger with each impact. Blood and dust coated his skin, yet he was unbroken¡ªeach hit thrown at him only served to make him fiercer, his body hardening, his spirit blazing brighter. The Death Monarch laughed, a low, sinister sound that filled the battlefield with its chill. His skeletal form shifted as he watched the Ogre rise again, amused but increasingly intrigued. "Seventeenth empowerment," he murmured, feeling the rise in Volk''s power like a crackling surge through the air. His interest was piqued as he sense tod the depths of Volk''s rage deepening, churning like a storm. Volk charged again, his fist a battering ram of raw force, and with a flick of his wrist, the Death Monarch swatted him aside, sending him sprawling across the ground. However, in mere moments, Volk was on his feet once more, rage radiating from him like molten heat. "Eighteenth empowerment," the Death Monarch taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. He could feel it, the Ogre''s strength blooming, raw and untamed. Again, Volk lunged forward, each movement a testament to his unbreakable will. This time, his punch was a blur, his speed magnified, but the Death Monarch simply sidestepped, delivering a swift kick to Volk''s gut, launching him back. "Nineteenth empowerment!" he called out, a delighted spark in his eyes. He relished this grotesque symphony of pain and growth, witnessing Volk evolve before him with every beatdown. Volk slammed back onto the ground, each crack in the earth around him seeming to deepen as he rose yet again. He let out a guttural scream, and the very air vibrated with his fury. He launched himself forward, faster, stronger, each sinew in his body coiled like a spring, and his fist connected with the Death Monarch''s arm in an explosion of power. The Death Monarch sneered, barely moving, but now, a faint twinge of exertion crossed his brow. "Ah, the twentieth empowerment," he remarked, almost gleefully. "How far can you go, Ogre?" Volk didn''t hesitate. Even as his knuckles bled and bones cracked, he attacked again. And again. Each time, the Death Monarch would counter with an effortless slap, a brutal backhand, or a bone-crushing stomp. Every blow sent Volk hurtling away, battered and bloodied, yet unyielding. "Twenty-fifth empowerment¡­!" The Death Monarch''s voice rang out, triumphant, as he raised a fist and struck Volk with a vicious uppercut, sending him skyward like a missile. Volk crashed back to the ground, the impact leaving a massive crater, dust and rock flying in all directions. Yet, he rose, panting, eyes blazing with an unquenchable fire. The Death Monarch''s face lit up, the exhilaration in his twisted smile gleaming. "Ah, yes! The thirtieth empowerment! You''re becoming something quite¡­ interesting!" Volk launched himself back, his punches now trailing energy, each blow seeming to ignite with the force of his strength. However, the Death Monarch met him, deflecting, countering, each strike a brutal response that sent Volk flying. Yet, with each collision, with each bruise and wound, Volk''s power escalated. "Thirty-fifth empowerment!" the Death Monarch mocked, delivering a bone-jarring punch to Volk''s shoulder. "You''re gaining, Ogre!" he laughed, stepping back as Volk, slower to rise now, yet still defiant, stood tall. Stay connected with empire His chest heaved, his body bloodied, but there was a new light in his eyes¡ªa light that matched his fury. CRASH! Volk surged forward with a roar, his fists faster, harder, and the Death Monarch responded in kind. Each hit struck deeper, each counter more fierce. "Forty-third empowerment!" the Death Monarch called out with gleeful excitement, his voice rising with a manic thrill. He backhanded Volk with a force that shattered a row of trees behind him, but Volk only grinned, his lips split and bleeding. He charged again, his strength seemingly limitless. WHAM! A headbutt. Volk was thrown back, staggering but unfazed. He dashed forward, his muscles taut, his blows more calculated, his stance unwavering. "Fifty-seventh empowerment," the Death Monarch shouted, his eyes wild with exhilaration. "The limits of your power are astonishing! How many times can you withstand me, brute?" Volk roared, his voice raw, his eyes alight with an otherworldly intensity. With every blow, he was being reborn, stronger, faster, his body adapting, evolving in response to the punishment. His strikes hit like meteors, each one shattering the ground beneath them. His aura blazed around him, each wave of his rage adding to the violent crescendo of his power. "Seventy-fifth empowerment!" The Death Monarch was almost shrieking with laughter now, his hands trembling with delight as he delivered a punishing blow to Volk''s chest. Yet, Volk didn''t falter¡ªhe lunged, catching the Death Monarch off guard as he managed to land a blow across his face, sending him skidding back a few steps. The Death Monarch''s eyes glinted with genuine thrill as he wiped the blood from his lip, staring at Volk with wild, boundless excitement. "Eighty-fifth empowerment!" The Death Monarch threw his head back, laughing with mad glee. "Incredible, Ogre! You grow with each strike! I can feel your very cells screaming, adapting!" His tone turned darker, more frenzied. "Yes! Yes, this is what I want to see! Continue, show me more!" Volk''s fists crackled with pure, unadulterated power, each movement of his body burning the air around him, making the heat surpass the hotness of a lava. He bellowed, Grrrrr, charging once more with strikes that are as loud as a whipping blade. The Death monarch easily countered, deflected and misdirected all Volk''s attacks. And their clashes were like thunder rumbles in the sky. "Ninety-third empowerment," the Death monarch crowned, his undead face flushed with crazed mania. He met Volk''s charge head on, Kabam! With their colliding strength shaking the earth beneath them. Then, with a final crazed roar, the Death monarch stepped back with his undead eyes wide filled with awe and unexplainable delight. "The hundredth fold empowerment, impossible, unbelievable," he whispered, almost reverently. His hands unconsciously came together, like a slow deliberate clap! Clap¡­ Clap¡­ Clap¡­ Clap¡­ His gaze was fixed on Volk, with an expression of genuine admiration, mingling with a genuine amusement along with it. The Death Monarch let out a loud, exultant laugh, with his arms thrown open wide as he looked at Volk with a twinkle in his eyes. "Incredible, remarks, I, the Death Monarch never expected to witness such an Ogre that can empower himself hundredfold! Must have been a realm where you came from." The Death Monarch would salivate, "And, now, we are on par when it comes to strength and magic!" The Death Monarch''s skeletal frame shifted into a more focused stance, his eerie gaze locked on Volk. His grin stretched wider, a twisted mockery of anticipation as he stretched his arms, cracking the bones as if waking from a long, ancient slumber. "Ahh¡­ finally. This is what I hoped for¡ªa real challenge. And here I thought I''d have to wait an eternity to feel this thrill again." Volk charged with all his might, his fists swinging like hammers, BANG BAN BANG! each strike accompanied by a guttural roar that shook the ground. But the Death Monarch was ready, his body moving fluidly, dodging and weaving with almost effortless grace. "HA! Is that it, brute?" he taunted, sidestepping Volk''s punch and delivering a swift elbow to his ribs, sending the Ogre stumbling sideways. "Your power is impressive, but your form? Sloppy. Here, let me teach you how a true fighter moves!" BAM! He drove his knee into Volk''s gut, making the massive Ogre double over before slamming his fist into Volk''s back, sending him sprawling across the ground. Volk growled, GURAAAAAHH!! pushing himself up, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His body was battered, bruised, yet he was unbroken, each hit fueling the fire of his rage. The Death Monarch chuckled as Volk rose to his feet. "Come on then, get up. This is just a warm-up!" he sneered. "You may have power, but strength alone isn''t enough. You need precision, control." He demonstrated with a quick jab aimed at Volk''s shoulder, swiftly following it with a spinning backfist that knocked Volk off his feet. Volk let out a deafening roar, his voice tearing through the air, "DO NOT MOCK VOOOOOOLK!" Chapter 186 Introducing, Magic "Oh, but you make it so easy," the Death Monarch cackled, sidestepping Volk''s furious lunge and twisting his arm, forcing him to his knees."Hand-to-hand combat is an art, Ogre. It''s not about wild swings; it''s about efficiency." He pressed his boot against Volk''s back, pushing him into the dirt before stepping back with a mocking gesture. "You''re strong, but you''re like a child with a sledgehammer." Volk''s muscles tensed, veins bulging as he pushed himself up, his breathing ragged but filled with pure rage. He swung wildly, each punch laced with the intent to obliterate. But the Death Monarch danced around him, almost lazily, landing counter after counter with brutal precision. "Forty-five," he laughed, delivering a bone-jarring punch to Volk''s jaw. "Forty-six!" A vicious knee to the stomach. "Come on, is that all you''ve got?" Continue your journey with empire Volk staggered back, panting, his body screaming with pain yet alive with a fire that refused to be extinguished. His eyes locked onto the Death Monarch, pure hatred blazing within them. "V-VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ DESTROY¡­ YOU¡­" The Death Monarch smirked, shaking his head. "Then show me, brute. Show me something more than just blind rage." He opened his arms, taunting Volk to strike again. "Come on, I want to see if you can do more than just swing wildly." With a roar that echoed through the battlefield, Volk charged, his massive fists aiming to crush the Death Monarch. But each punch met empty air as the Death Monarch ducked and sidestepped, moving with a grace that was almost mocking. "You''re predictable, brute!" he sneered, delivering a brutal uppercut that snapped Volk''s head back, sending him stumbling. But Volk''s fury was relentless. He roared, lunging forward again, throwing a flurry of punches that shattered the ground around them. "VOLK¡­ STRONGER¡­ THAN YOU!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the very earth beneath them. But the Death Monarch merely chuckled, his skeletal form weaving through Volk''s attacks like smoke. "Strength alone won''t win this, Ogre," he taunted, sidestepping another punch and slamming his fist into Volk''s ribs with enough force to crack bone. "You need skill. Precision. Focus. But all you have is anger. It makes you weak." Volk let out another roar, his fury reaching a fever pitch. Each missed punch seemed to fuel his rage even further, his muscles swelling, his aura blazing like a firestorm. He lunged again, swinging with all his might, only for the Death Monarch to dodge once more, delivering a brutal punch to Volk''s stomach that made him double over. "Are you even listening, brute?" the Death Monarch sneered, grabbing Volk by the collar and pulling him close. "It''s not enough to be strong; you have to be smart. Controlled." He shoved Volk back, watching with amusement as the Ogre staggered, his breaths heavy, his body trembling with barely restrained fury. But as the Death Monarch readied himself to strike again, he paused, a sudden realization flickering across his face. Volk was¡­ different. His aura felt denser, his muscles have somehow become even more defined when he reached a hundredfold empowerment. Suddenly, the Death Monarch had let out a punch that would shatter Volk''s bone earlier, however, during this time, Volk was barely being phased. "Hmm?" An eerie smile spread across his face as he stared at the Ogre. "Interesting," the Death Monarch mumbled, his voice filled with dark and gleeful curiosity, "Don''t tell me you have grown even stronger?" The battle raged on, a brutal symphony of fury and force, punctuated by Volk''s roaring strikes and the Death Monarch''s cold, mocking laughter. Volk charged, his fist a hammer of raw power aimed squarely at the Death Monarch. For the first time, the blow forced the undead sorcerer back two steps, his bony feet digging small grooves into the earth. The Death Monarch''s laugh faltered, just for a moment. "Ahh," he sneered, steadying himself. "Perhaps I underestimated your growth, Ogre." He dusted off his robe as though it had been dirtied by Volk''s touch. "But," he added, his voice darkening, "don''t get cocky just because you landed one hit." Volk''s chest heaved as he straightened up, a smug grin spreading across his blood-smeared face. "VOLK¡­ ISN''T¡­ WEAK!" he bellowed, his voice vibrating through the air. He cracked his knuckles, his arms flexing as he readied himself. "VOLK IS STRONGER THAN YOU!" The Death Monarch only chuckled, tilting his head as he looked at Volk with a gleam of amusement. "Oh, I don''t doubt it, brute. I can feel your strength¡­ rising, swelling like a storm. But strength alone is nothing against one who wields precision." He darted forward, his bony fist driving into Volk''s side with a sickening crunch. Volk''s grin faded as he staggered, the pain shooting up his ribs. Yet, the Ogre''s eyes only blazed hotter. "VOLK DOESN''T¡­ CARE!" he roared, swinging back with his fist. It connected, sending the Death Monarch stumbling, but he quickly regained his balance, his eyes narrowing. "You''re a stubborn one, aren''t you?" he sneered, his bony fingers flexing as he readied for the next blow. He lunged forward, striking Volk''s jaw with a swift punch, then following with another to his chest, and a final blow to his gut, making Volk reel back with a grimace. But the Ogre barely had time to catch his breath before the Death Monarch closed in again, each punch landing like a hammer, bone against flesh, breaking and bruising. "Volk¡­ is¡­ unstoppable!" the Ogre grunted, each word a defiant shout as he pushed back against the onslaught. With every impact, he felt himself hardening, his body seeming to adapt to the punishment, his rage flaring hotter with each blow. And then, in a single, explosive move, he unleashed a brutal backhand that caught the Death Monarch off-guard, sending him staggering back a few steps. "Impressive," the Death Monarch admitted, rubbing his jaw with a grin. "But can you keep up with me?" He surged forward, delivering a flurry of punches, each one faster than the last. At first, two or three strikes would stagger Volk, forcing him back, but as the battle dragged on, it took five, then six punches to make him falter. "Come on, Ogre! Show me what you''re truly made of!" the Death Monarch taunted, his fists blurring as he struck, his attacks precise and unrelenting. Each hit was calculated, targeting weak points in Volk''s massive frame, aiming to bring him down. But Volk, undeterred, charged through the pain, his fists swinging like wrecking balls. "VOLK¡­ WON''T¡­ FALL!" he bellowed, his voice booming across the field. He swung wildly, his fists cutting through the air with a force that made the ground tremble. He landed a punch to the Death Monarch''s chest, the impact sending a shockwave that rattled the nearby trees, and for a brief moment, the undead sorcerer stumbled. "Is that all you''ve got, monster?" Volk spat, his face twisted in a snarl. "Oh, no, my friend," the Death Monarch replied, straightening up with a grin. "This is just the beginning." He raised his fists, his bony fingers curling as he launched himself at Volk, his strikes landing in a rapid series of blows. Each hit sent Volk back, but with each one, the Ogre''s strength seemed to grow, his muscles swelling as he absorbed the punishment. The Death Monarch laughed, exhilarated by the relentless power that Volk was showing. "You''re¡­ remarkable, brute. I didn''t think you''d last this long." He dodged a massive swing from Volk, countering with a punch to the side of the Ogre''s head that made Volk''s vision blur. But Volk roared, charging forward with renewed fury. "YOU CAN''T¡­ BREAK¡­ VOLK!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the Death Monarch''s chest with enough force to make the undead stagger. The Death Monarch chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous thrill. "Oh, I''m counting on it. The more you endure, the stronger you become. It''s fascinating, really. But power without discipline¡­" He lashed out, his fists connecting with Volk''s face, then his stomach, each punch landing with sickening precision. "¡­is nothing but a child''s tantrum!" Volk stumbled back, breathing heavily, but there was a fire in his eyes that refused to die. "VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ CRUSH YOU!" he roared, charging forward again, his fists blazing with raw power. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. This time, he was faster, stronger, his punches coming harder and faster. The Death Monarch found himself forced to take the Ogre seriously, each punch demanding a counter, each block a calculated effort¡­ "One hundred fiftyfold empowerment¡­" he murmured, a twisted grin on his face as he felt the Ogre''s power surge. "Sixtyfold¡­ Seventyfold¡­" Each clash between them was a thunderous explosion of force, the ground beneath them cracking with each step, each blow. The Death Monarch was matching Volk''s pace, yet he couldn''t ignore the growing pressure. He could sense Volk''s power evolving, his aura thickening, radiating raw fury that seeped into the very ground they fought on. "You''re getting stronger, Ogre!" he sneered, dodging another punch and countering with a brutal knee to Volk''s ribs. "But strength without strategy? How utterly useless!" He followed up with a punch to Volk''s chest, sending him sprawling back, but Volk was on his feet again in seconds, charging forward with an enraged bellow. Volk''s eyes were wild, his breaths labored, but he was grinning. "You talk¡­ too much!" he roared, delivering a punch that caught the Death Monarch off guard, sending him stumbling back. "Just¡­ SHUT¡­ UP!" The Death Monarch laughed, wiping a smear of black blood from his mouth. "Hah! That''s more like it!" He launched a brutal series of kicks and punches, each one harder than the last. "Hundred ninety empowerment," he muttered, feeling Volk''s power swell yet again. "Ninety-fifth. By the gods, you''re relentless." Volk lunged again, his fists flying in a savage barrage, each blow a roar of defiance. "VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ BREAK YOU!" he screamed, his fists crashing down like hammers. The Death Monarch countered, his own strikes meeting Volk''s with thunderous impact, the ground splintering beneath them as they clashed. Then, with a final, brutal punch, Volk felt a surge of confidence. He could feel it in his bones¡ªhe was matching the Death Monarch''s strength. Victory was within his grasp. A triumphant grin spread across his face as he readied himself to land the final blow. But suddenly, a dark, chilling force surrounded him, and before he could react, he was sent flying back with a single punch that felt like a sledgehammer. He crashed into the ground, KABAM! dust and debris erupting around him. As he looked up, he saw the Death Monarch standing there, his skeletal fist now wrapped in a sickly aura, swirling with the unmistakable dark energy of death. The sorcerer''s eyes gleamed with a twisted joy as he held up his fist, letting the deathly energy crackle and pulse around it. "Introducing¡­ magic." Chapter 187 TIDE, CHANGES The Death Monarch''s laughter echoed like a twisted symphony across the blood-soaked field as he raised his hand, dark magic swirling around his bony fingers.Volk, breathing hard, his muscles taut with rage and defiance, fixed his gaze on the undead sorcerer. The aura of death surrounding the Death Monarch''s fist pulsed like a living thing, and Volk could feel the oppressive weight of the magic bearing down on him, chilling him to the bone. "Ah, Ogre!" the Death Monarch sneered, his voice booming across the battlefield. "Look at you, clawing and scraping with brute force alone. Do you honestly think you can challenge me?" He waved his hand, sending a wave of dark energy crashing into Volk. The force hit like a storm, each tendril of magic searing his skin as it wrapped around him, threatening to drag him to his knees. Volk staggered but refused to yield. "VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ WIN!" he bellowed, his fists clenching as he forced himself forward, step by agonizing step, against the suffocating wave of magic. The Death Monarch chuckled, amused, as he watched Volk struggle. "Oh, how charming. Your spirit is admirable, but do you honestly think sheer strength alone is enough? "You may be physically formidable, but your lack of magical ability leaves you hopelessly vulnerable. "In magic, I am your superior. You are a mere worm fighting against a god." With a flick of his wrist, he launched another wave of black fire toward Volk, engulfing him in flames that seared his skin. Volk''s roar tore through the smoke, defiant, even as his flesh burned. He charged, bursting through the flames and aiming a punch at the Death Monarch''s head. The undead sorcerer sidestepped with ease, his lips curling in a sneer. "Is that all, brute? Surely, you can muster more than this. Or is your so-called strength already reaching its pitiful limit?" His voice was laced with mockery, each word a taunt meant to break Volk''s spirit. Volk''s growl deepened, his muscles rippling with a renewed surge of strength. But every attempt to attack was met with a precise, ruthless counter. The Death Monarch toyed with him, dodging and weaving, his laughter ringing out as he struck Volk with brutal blasts of magic that sent him reeling back, again and again. "Are you truly this simple-minded, Ogre?" the Death Monarch mocked, circling Volk with an arrogant gleam in his eyes. "Look at yourself. You may be reaching physical parity with me, yes. But that is nothing in the face of magic. "I can toy with you all day, watching your strength peak and then finally break. Just admit it¡ªthis is your limit." But Volk''s response was a roar, a guttural, primal scream that resonated with raw, unrelenting rage. He surged forward, throwing a punch that seemed to shake the air itself, and for a fleeting moment, the Death Monarch felt its force. He caught the fist, his arm trembling under the weight of Volk''s strength, but then he sneered, twisting Volk''s arm and slamming a surge of dark energy into his chest, sending him crashing back. "Is this not exhausting for you?" the Death Monarch mused, pacing as Volk struggled back to his feet. "With every beatdown, I expect you to falter, to finally break. But no, you keep climbing, clawing back from the brink. Don''t tell me¡­" He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Are you really¡­ surpassing even your previous limits?" Volk forced himself up, his breaths coming hard, his body battered, bleeding, yet unbroken. Each time he rose, his muscles seemed to pulse with greater power, a strength that defied reason, growing with each hit, each moment of punishment. He fixed his blazing eyes on the Death Monarch and spat blood to the side, a fierce grin breaking across his bloodied face. The Death Monarch''s grin faded, replaced by a look of growing concern. "Enough!" he barked, lashing out with a cascade of dark energy, bolts of black lightning crackling through the air toward Volk. They struck with merciless force, blasting him back, yet still, Volk rose, his body absorbing the damage, his power climbing higher, fiercer, his aura thickening like a storm. "What¡­?" The Death Monarch''s voice wavered, disbelief flickering in his eyes as he watched the Ogre stand tall once more, his chest heaving with steady breaths, his face marked with the unbreakable will that even death couldn''t dampen. "How¡­ how are you still growing stronger?" Volk let out a low, rumbling laugh, his voice thick with fury and triumph. "VOLK¡­ IS¡­ ENDLESS!" he roared, his body seeming to radiate with a strength beyond comprehension. With every step, his power surged, his fists crackling with an energy that defied logic, each movement imbued with the primal rage of a beast that could not be subdued. The Death Monarch took a step back, his smug grin vanishing completely as he realized the impossible truth¡ªhis magic, his unassailable advantage, was beginning to feel¡­ ineffective. Each spell, each wave of energy, every bone-crushing punch seemed to make Volk only stronger, each blow feeding his rage, his power. For the first time, a hint of doubt shadowed the Death Monarch''s face. He raised his fists, hesitating as he watched the Ogre''s relentless approach, his form larger, his steps heavier, each breath a declaration of his refusal to yield. "This¡­ this is impossible¡­" he whispered, his voice tinged with genuine awe and, perhaps, the faintest hint of fear. The Death Monarch''s eyes narrowed, a glint of cunning flickering through his gaze as he raised his arms, dark tendrils of necromantic energy coiling like snakes around his skeletal fingers. He chanted in a low, guttural voice, his words a twisted invocation to the very essence of death itself. "With the chains of the forsaken, I bind your spirit!" he intoned, his voice echoing across the battlefield, reverberating with a sinister resonance. A storm of shadowed chains erupted from the ground, each link forged from the screams of countless souls, and they hurtled toward Volk, aiming to ensnare him in an ironclad grip. The chains wrapped around Volk''s wrists, his ankles, his neck, tightening with a relentless force that would crush the spirit of any lesser being. But Volk only grinned, his eyes blazing with defiance as he flexed his arms and shoulders, each muscle rippling with newfound power. "GRRAAAAAH!" Volk roared, his voice a thunderous boom that shook the chains themselves. With a fierce tug, he snapped the bindings around his wrists as if they were little more than threads, the dark energy dissipating into wisps of shadow. He clenched his fists, glaring at the Death Monarch with unbridled fury. "IS THIS¡­ YOUR BEST?!" The Death Monarch snarled, his eyes widening with disbelief. Without hesitation, he raised his arms again, summoning another wave of magic. "Sleep, beast!" he commanded, his voice rising with desperate intensity. "By the eternal night, let your mind be shackled, your will drowned in slumber!" An eerie, inky mist filled the air, seeping into Volk''s lungs, his skin, his very mind, in an attempt to lull him into an endless, dreamless sleep. But Volk merely took a deep breath, his chest swelling as he inhaled the spell''s essence¡ªthen let out a thunderous laugh, expelling the dark mist in a burst of raw power. "VOLK DOES NOT SLEEP!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the battlefield. His laughter was a defiant proclamation, shaking the very air with its ferocity. The Death Monarch''s composure faltered, a flash of frustration shadowing his face. But he was not defeated yet. He raised his hands once more, desperation tightening his voice as he called upon one of his deadliest spells. "Shadow of the Undying, crush his soul! Rend his strength, weaken his spirit!" The ground trembled as a colossal shadowy figure rose, a monstrous, ghastly apparition, its form shifting and undulating, every limb pulsating with a malevolent energy that sought to drain the very life from Volk. It loomed over him, its ghostly hands reaching out to consume his power, its eyes glowing with an unholy light. Volk snarled as he felt the shadow''s touch on his skin, its cold fingers digging into him, trying to sap his strength. But instead of falling to his knees, Volk took a step forward, his muscles bulging as he fought against the draining effect, his veins pulsing with sheer determination. "YOU THINK¡­ THIS WILL STOP ME, VOLK?!" His voice rose to a primal bellow as he shrugged off the shadow''s grip, his strength undiminished. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. With a violent swing of his arm, he struck the apparition, shattering it into shards of dark mist that vanished into the air. He stood tall, his gaze fixed on the Death Monarch with a gaze that was pure, unyielding fury. "NOTHING¡­ CAN BREAK¡­ VOLK!" The Death Monarch''s face twisted with desperation as he conjured yet another spell, his voice shrill as he shouted. "Fall, beast! I command you! By the essence of oblivion, let your heart be weighed down, let your limbs turn to lead!" A crushing force slammed down on Volk, like an invisible mountain bearing down on him, aiming to pin him to the ground, to turn his very blood to sludge. But Volk only laughed, a terrible, bone-rattling sound, as he straightened under the spell''s weight, every fiber of his being surging with relentless energy. "IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE?" His voice was louder, more menacing with each word, each defiance sending shivers through the undead forces still watching in awe. "YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE ME¡­ WEAK?!" With a furious roar, Volk ripped free from the invisible bonds, his body radiating with a newfound intensity that shook the battlefield. His gaze locked onto the Death Monarch, a look of pure, unstoppable rage in his eyes, and he took a slow, deliberate step forward. The Death Monarch stumbled back, his mouth open in disbelief, his confidence crumbling as Volk brushed off each spell as if it were nothing more than dust in the wind. Panic flashed in his eyes as he conjured one last desperate spell, his voice trembling. "Oblivion''s Embrace!" he cried, summoning a whirlwind of necrotic energy that spiraled toward Volk, its dark tendrils seeking to consume him whole. But Volk simply raised his fist and swung, his raw, overwhelming strength scattering the necrotic energy like smoke. He stepped closer to the Death Monarch, who was now helpless, every ounce of arrogance drained from his face, replaced by horror and disbelief. "THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS!" Volk thundered, his voice carrying across the battlefield. The Death Monarch took a step back, devastated, his once-unshakable confidence now shattered, as he realized there was nothing¡ªnothing he could do to stop this unstoppable force before him. Chapter 188 UNDEAD BEATDOWN! The Death Monarch scowled, his fingers flicking out in a desperate motion as he called forth yet another spell.Dark energy coiled around him like a viper ready to strike, and he thrust his hands forward, unleashing a torrent of deathly tendrils that lashed toward Volk, their tips crackling with the promise of agony. "With this curse, you will wither, you wretched beast!" he spat, his voice thick with frustration. But Volk didn''t even flinch. He let the dark tendrils graze his skin, watching as they slid off, unable to latch onto his hardened, empowered body. His eyes blazed with contempt. Raising his massive fist, he drove it straight down with a ground-shaking blow. KABOOM! The ground splintered, erupting in a violent shockwave as Volk''s fist slammed into the earth. The Death Monarch was blasted back, his form crumbling against the unrelenting force. He tumbled, landing in a heap, his skeletal form broken and splattered across the rocks. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "BLASTED OGRE!" the Death Monarch rasped, scrambling to piece himself together, his voice dripping with venom. "HOW DARE YOU TREAT ME LIKE A MERE INSECT!" He sneered, attempting to drag himself up, his bones creaking as they reluctantly shifted back into place. Volk took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he threw back his head and roared, "DOESN''T MATTER WHO YOU ARE! YOU ARE NOTHING BEFORE VOLK!" His voice thundered across the battlefield, every word drenched in primal fury, a rallying cry that sent shivers down the spines of the onlookers. Then, to Volk''s astonishment, the Death Monarch''s shattered bones began to pull together, weaving themselves back in place with an unnatural, rapid precision. The fractured ribs knitted, the skull reformed, and within a heartbeat, the Death Monarch stood once more, whole and untouched. His laugh echoed, dripping with newfound arrogance. "FOOLISH OGRE!" the Death Monarch taunted, his voice brimming with pride. "Do you really think you can destroy me? I am death incarnate! No matter how many times you beat me down, I will rise again, whole and unbroken!" He stretched his arms wide, reveling in his reborn strength. "You may be strong now, but strength alone cannot overcome the eternal!" Volk''s response was immediate. He moved with brutal swiftness, his massive hand swatting the Death Monarch as though he were a bothersome fly. The Death Monarch was hurled into the sky, spinning wildly from the blow, and before he could catch his bearings, Volk had already leapt after him. WHAM! Volk''s fist connected with the Death Monarch''s face, shattering part of his skull and sending him plummeting back toward the ground like a meteor. The impact cracked the earth open in a sprawling crater, dust and debris swirling around the fallen figure. But before the dust could even settle, Volk''s shadow loomed over him, his foot crashing down with a force that shook the very mountains. SMASH! Each blow left the ground quaking, the rocks splitting apart in jagged lines as Volk battered the Death Monarch without mercy. And yet, each time the Death Monarch fell, his bones would weave themselves back together, regenerating in the blink of an eye, as though mocking Volk''s every attempt. "Pathetic beast," the Death Monarch sneered as his shattered form reassembled yet again, his voice a venomous hiss. "Do you not see? Your efforts are pointless. You''re nothing more than a mindless brute." "VOLK WILL SHOW YOU¡­ POWER!" Volk thundered, his fist already descending once more. He slammed the Death Monarch into the ground with such force that the ground fractured and shook, a plume of dust rising into the sky. And as the Death Monarch began to pull himself together again, Volk lunged forward, grabbing him mid-regeneration, and hurled him across the landscape, sending his skeletal form skidding over the jagged rocks. BAM! Volk was already upon him, his fist colliding with the Death Monarch''s face, the force of it smashing the skeletal jaw and shattering half of his ribcage. Yet, in the span of a heartbeat, those bones reformed, his injuries knitting themselves back with chilling ease. "This is all you have, Ogre?" The Death Monarch''s voice was laced with mockery as he reached out, summoning necromantic energy that sparked in his palm. "You are nothing before true power!" He unleashed a blast of dark energy toward Volk, the air splitting with the rancid smell of decaying magic. The necromantic magic collided with Volk''s chest, wrapping around him like a snake, binding his limbs, digging into his flesh. But Volk only grinned, ripping free of the shadowy bindings with sheer strength, brushing them off like cobwebs. "YOUR MAGIC¡­ IS NOTHING!" he bellowed, slamming both of his fists down, driving the Death Monarch into the ground yet again. In the brief moment before his form shattered, the Death Monarch could barely sneer, only to feel the world spin as Volk slammed him into the ground once more, this time creating an explosion of stone and earth that sent shockwaves across the battlefield. The Death Monarch''s pride was crumbling, each regenerated bone faltering slightly, yet still, he rose. "Haha!" The Death Monarch''s laughter was manic, unhinged. "Strike me as you will, beast! I am untouchable, an undying force! You may be stronger, but I cannot be killed!" Volk''s roar shook the heavens as he launched himself at the Death Monarch, slamming him with unrelenting force, driving him through stone, rock, and rubble. Each blow echoed like thunder, each collision sending a cascade of debris into the air. And each time the Death Monarch would rise, his bones piecing back together as if untouched. Midair, the Death Monarch raised a hand, his eyes burning with desperation as he conjured a twisted, shadowy spell. "Necromantic Crush!" He threw his hand forward, a wave of undead energy rippling outward. Volk stumbled back, feeling the force, but as the spell attempted to latch onto his flesh, he only shook it off, his eyes blazing with unyielding fury. "YOU WILL BREAK!" Volk roared, surging forward with a bellowing fury that shattered the magic around him. He swatted the Death Monarch back, the force sending him flying through the air, the landscape bending to the will of their destructive power. Yet, Volk was relentless, leaping into the sky with the speed of a thunderbolt, catching up and slamming his fists into the Death Monarch once more. The Death Monarch screamed, his voice a twisted cry as his body shattered again, his magic failing him as Volk''s blows broke him down. Yet, before Volk''s eyes, the Death Monarch reformed again, his bones pulling together even faster, the remnants of his laughter echoing through the carnage. "YOU CANNOT DEFEAT DEATH!" he crowed, conjuring a final surge of necromantic magic. But even as the energy flowed from his hands, Volk''s fist crashed into him, the magic dispersing like fog. Blow after blow, slam after slam, Volk''s unrelenting assault left the battlefield littered with craters, rocks, and shattered debris. And with each furious strike, the Death Monarch''s smugness wavered, his laughter faltering, his body struggling to hold form. Finally, as Volk loomed over him, casting a shadow like a dark omen, the Death Monarch''s voice was a cracked whisper, tinged with a hint of disbelief, "How¡­ is this possible?" His form was struggling, his once-seamless regeneration slowing, faltering. "YOU¡­ WILL¡­ BREAK!" Volk growled, his voice a thunderous promise, fists clenched as he raised them high. And as he prepared to strike once more, the Death Monarch, for the first time, had no response, no mockery, no sneer¡ªjust silent dread. Chapter 189 END OF THE UNDEAD As Volk''s final blow shattered the Death Monarch, the skeletal figure dissolved into an eerie, black dust, drifting away on an unnatural wind.For a brief moment, silence hung over the battlefield, broken only by the echoes of Volk''s labored breathing. Then, he felt it¡ªa faint, sinister presence tugging at his senses from beyond the hills. Instinct took over. Without wasting a second, Volk crouched low, and with an earth-shattering leap, he launched himself skyward, his body soaring like a meteor. Down below, the Orcs and Ogres were left in a stunned, reverent silence, watching as their Warchief disappeared into the sky. They exchanged glances, their faces lit with awe and disbelief, murmuring to one another as they tried to comprehend the sheer power they had just witnessed. ¡­ Meanwhile, far from the battlefield, the true Death Monarch staggered through a shadowed forest, his skeletal fingers clutching his side where a web of fractures split through his bones. He gritted his teeth, muttering to himself, "That clone should buy me enough time¡­ enough to recover and regain my power." He reached a secluded grove where the air was thick with deathly silence, the ground littered with the remains of fallen creatures. Dark, ominous clouds swirled above him, casting the landscape in a sickly hue. Closing his eyes, he began to murmur an incantation, his bony hands tracing symbols in the air as he summoned the undead aura from the corpses scattered around him. Black tendrils rose from the ground, winding their way toward him, drawn by his call. The aura pulsed like a heartbeat, growing denser and darker, wrapping around the Death Monarch in a protective shroud. He could feel his fractured bones knitting back together, his strength slowly returning. Shadows danced around him, thickening with each whispered chant, and the ground itself seemed to tremble in response, a low rumble vibrating through the air. The corpses of dead beasts twitched and spasmed, their lifeless eyes glowing briefly with an eerie green light as they gave up their residual energy. The swirling mass of undead aura grew more intense, expanding outward in waves as the Death Monarch fed on the life-force left in the bodies around him. A dark phenomenon filled the grove¡ªa swirling vortex of death and decay, casting the entire forest in a sickly green glow. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The air grew heavy, and a deathly silence fell over the land as even the wind ceased to blow. Shadows thickened into an inky fog, cloaking everything in an unnatural darkness, and the Death Monarch felt the last traces of weakness leaving his bones, the fractured pieces of his body knitting together until he was whole once more. Just as he prepared to end the ritual, a shift in the air made him pause. He looked up, his undead eyes narrowing as he sensed something¡ªa presence, fast and terrifying, hurtling toward him. The Death Monarch''s gaze sharpened, his eyes scanning the sky. Then, he saw it: a streak of movement hurtling down from above, like a burning star descending with unstoppable force. His eyes widened in shock, his hollow gaze filled with disbelief. "How did he¡­? This can''t be!" he gasped, panic flashing across his face. He had underestimated the Ogre''s senses¡ªVolk had not only grown in strength, but in perception as well. Explore stories at empire Before he could react, Volk crashed down from the sky, slamming into the ground with such ferocity that the entire grove shook. KABOOM! Dust and debris erupted around them, a shockwave radiating outward, flattening everything within its path. The Death Monarch stumbled back, his mind racing as he tried to summon his undead aura in defense. With a final, desperate yell, the Death Monarch unleashed a massive surge of undead energy, the dark aura exploding outward in an all-encompassing wave. The ground trembled, the trees withered, and shadows twisted in every direction as the aura sought to repel Volk. But Volk didn''t even flinch. The dark magic washed over him, but it had no effect. He continued his approach, steady and unyielding, each step small but deliberate. His eyes glowed with a cold, menacing fury as he closed the distance, undeterred, completely ignoring the undead energy swirling around him. The Death Monarch took a staggering step back, his once-confident facade crumbling into terror. He tried to raise his hand, but his limbs felt as heavy as lead. "No¡­ it can''t be. You¡­ you''re stronger, but¡ª!" Volk raised his fist, his muscles rippling as he drew back, his voice booming in a tone that seemed to shake the very heavens. "GOODBYE, SYSTEM USER!" As Volk''s massive hands hung in the air, ready to deliver the final, crushing blow, a flicker of despair flashed through the Death Monarch''s hollow eyes. Time seemed to stretch, and in that brief moment, his mind was swept back to a memory from a distant age¡ªa time when he had once stood at the pinnacle of power, his ambitions burning brighter than any star. He remembered the day he had uncovered a hidden truth, a revelation that there was a realm beyond their own, a higher realm filled with unimaginable strength and mystery. The whispers of ancient texts and forbidden lore had hinted at it¡ªa place of endless dominion, where power had no limits. He had yearned for it, this unknown paradise, willing to do anything to reach it. But to achieve such transcendence, he had discovered a terrible price: the balance of the realms would have to be shattered. All the Monarchs, his once-allies and rivals alike, would need to be destroyed. The power structure itself would have to be broken, and their world plunged into ruin. And so, he had betrayed them. He recalled the looks on their faces¡ªshock, disbelief, rage¡ªwhen he turned on them one by one, his cold, relentless hunger for ascension guiding his every action. The Death Monarch had destroyed everything in his path, mercilessly dismantling the very foundations of their alliances. He had embraced isolation, craving that one thing none of them could understand. The other Monarchs, united in a rare moment of solidarity, rose against him. They had fought with everything they had, hurling curses and spells, their powers combining to create an ancient seal. He remembered their determination, their righteous fury as they locked him away, binding him in chains of magic that dragged him into a dark, endless slumber. For countless centuries, he had lain in that cold abyss, abandoned, his spirit unbroken but weary, his ambitions simmering in the solitude. He had felt every passing year like a weight pressing down on him. Alone. Betrayed. Enraged. Yet, he had never given in. He had clung to his resolve, fueling himself on the thought that one day, he would awaken. That one day, he would break free and complete what he had started. He would climb to that higher realm, claim the power he was destined for, and reshape existence itself to his will. And now¡­ Now that he was free, with his grand plan ready to unfold once again, it was all about to be ended by this hulking brute. This Ogre, whose every roar, every brutal attack, was sealing his fate back to that endless, silent prison. Desperation filled him. He could feel the crushing weight of fate bearing down on him, the bitter irony of it twisting like a knife in his heart. "No¡­ not like this," he thought, his mind racing. "I have waited so long¡­ endured so much¡­ I cannot¡ªno, I will not go back!" But deep down, he knew. He could see it in the cold fury of Volk''s eyes, the unstoppable power behind those fists raised high above. It was over. "No!" he screamed in final defiance, his voice breaking with anguish and fury. "I will not be forgotten! I will not be buried! I¡ª" KABAM! Volk''s fists came down with the force of an avalanche, a thunderous crash that shook the earth to its core, splintering the ground beneath them and filling the air with a deafening roar. Dust and stone exploded outward, and the echo of that final blow rolled across the land, silencing even the whispers of the wind. Chapter 190 FINAL RAAAAAAAGE! Volk''s fists crashed down like the hammering of titanic war drums, each slam against the Death Monarch''s crumbling form echoing across the battlefield.KABOOM! The ground beneath him splintered and cracked, leaving jagged rifts from the sheer force of his blows. He was unrelenting, ruthless, each strike more brutal than the last, obliterating every trace of the undead Monarch''s once-terrifying presence. Dust and shards of bone burst up from each impact, but Volk paid it no mind; he would reduce his enemy to nothing more than a memory. "I, the Death Monarch will not fall!" the Death Monarch screamed in final defiance, his voice breaking with anguish and fury. "I will not be forgotten! I will not be buried! I¡ª" he said again, but like earlier, he was flattened again to the ground. "YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE VOLK DOWN?!" Volk bellowed, his voice booming like a thunderstorm. He raised his fist, slamming it down with primal ferocity. Explore stories at empire "I AM VOLK! I AM THE STRONGEST! NO ONE, NOT EVEN A SO-CALLED MONARCH OR SYSTEM USER, CAN STAND AGAINST ME! I AM VOOOOOLKKK!!" His rage was uncontainable, his muscles taut as cords, each fiber pulsating with the overwhelming power surging through him. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Another crushing blow pulverized what remained of the Death Monarch''s mangled body, scattering shards of bone and decayed armor in all directions. Volk''s eyes gleamed with a fierce, unbreakable intensity as he raised both fists, smashing down with a brutal force that cratered the earth itself. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE WHO UNDERESTIMATE VOLK!" he roared, each word reverberating through the landscape. His fists became a blur of destruction, tearing apart every remnant of the Death Monarch. Dust spiraled around him, whipped into a frenzy by his ceaseless onslaught, turning the air thick and choking. The ground beneath was a shattered ruin, littered with cracks and craters as Volk''s brutal assault continued unabated. "You call yourself a Monarch? You''re NOTHING IN THE FACE OF VOOOOLK!!!" Volk growled, his voice laced with derision. His blows increased in speed and intensity, each impact creating shockwaves that seemed to shake the very sky. KABOOM! KABAM! BOOM! His laughter was feral, filled with pure, unbridled confidence. "I AM STRONGER THAN YOU! STRONGER THAN ALL OF YOU! I AM VOLK, WARCHIEF OF THIS HORDE!" Finally, as his fists slowed, Volk straightened, breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling like the heaving of a great beast. Dust settled around him, and he watched, satisfied as the last fragments of the Death Monarch''s form crumbled away. But then, a strange warmth seeped into the air, radiating from the spot where the undead tyrant had met his end. Volk narrowed his eyes, his muscles tensing, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest. "Another trick?" he muttered, preparing himself, his fingers curling into fists once more. A fiery heat swirled before him, the remnants of dust twisting together, forming a shape¡ªa jagged, spectral skull that hovered, glowing ominously. The wind howled, carrying a bone-chilling voice as it reverberated through the desolate battlefield. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!" The skull''s hollow eyes blazed with a hatred that transcended life and death itself. Its mouth stretched wide in an unholy scream. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIIIS, I SWEAR IT! THIS IS NOT OVER, OOOOGRE! YOUR END WILL COME, YOUR PAIN WILL BE EVERLASTING!" The air pulsed with dark energy, the force of the scream rattling the ground as if the earth itself feared the Death Monarch''s final curse. The twisted remnants of his magic spiraled upward, swirling in a vortex, and the sky dimmed as the dark dust scattered into the wind, carried off like a black mist. The last remnants of his voice lingered, echoing like a distant wail. "YOU WILL PAY FOR ALL OF THIS, I WILL NEVER EVER FORGET YOU¡ª" And with that, the cursed specter faded, dissolving into nothingness. Volk stood still, the echoes of that deathly curse fading around him. He was silent, watching until the last trace of darkness was consumed by the horizon. His fists remained clenched, his senses sharp as he felt the final throes of the Death Monarch''s aura dissipate. Only then did he allow himself a deep, thunderous breath, his pulse slowing. Suddenly, he would slam his chest, WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The vibration seemed not to reach his heart and made him satisfied, so he slammed it better, WHAAAAAAM!! WHHAAAAAAM! WHAAAAAAM!! Volk would take a deep breath and began, "I AAAAAAAMMM¡­" he said and continued, "VOOOOOLKKK!!!" Suddenly, he sensed movement behind him. He turned, his sharp gaze narrowing, but his face softened as he saw the battered forms of his Horde emerging from the shadows of the trees. The orcs and ogres limped forward, each step filled with an exhaustion tempered by awe. Their bodies were bruised, armor shattered, weapons chipped, their faces smeared with dirt and blood. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They wore their battle scars like badges of honor, the cuts and bruises a testament to the brutal clash they had survived. One by one, the horde came to a halt, looking upon their Warchief with an awe that bordered on reverence. At first, they said nothing, their breaths shallow, still processing the impossible sight they had just witnessed. They had seen Volk defy death itself, shatter a being of unfathomable power, and stand victorious. This was no mere warchief; he was a living force, a being that defied all reason. A long, heavy silence hung in the air. Then, one orc raised his chipped, bloodied axe. His voice, rough and raw from the fight, rang out with a guttural pride. "THE HORDE IS VICTORIOUS!" he roared, his voice swelling with pride. The others, stirred by his call, began to raise their own weapons¡ªbattered axes, cracked swords, even shattered shields lifted high. They took up the chant, their voices rising like a tidal wave of fury and admiration. "WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST!" another ogre shouted, his fist pounding against his chest in a show of loyalty. His words seemed to ignite a fire in the others, a call to arms, a rallying cry that echoed through every fiber of their battered forms. "WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST!" they chanted, their voices building into a cacophony, each cry more thunderous than the last. "WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST! OUR WARCHIEF HAS NO EQUAL!" Their voices thundered across the battlefield, a testament to their loyalty, their respect, their absolute belief in Volk''s unmatched strength. Each shout was like the strike of a war drum, resounding through the scarred earth, filling the air with a fierce, unyielding pride. "OUR WARCHIEF IS UNBREAKABLE!" an orc bellowed, slamming his fist against his chest. His comrades followed suit, striking their chests, their fists, their weapons, creating a deafening rhythm that reverberated across the shattered landscape. "OUR WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST!" The chant grew louder, swelling like a storm, their voices mingling in a fierce, raw harmony that spoke of battles won, of blood shed, of loyalty that knew no bounds. It was a song of defiance, of survival, a tribute to the unyielding strength of their leader. Volk, towering over them, raised his own fist, his voice joining theirs, a roar that seemed to shake the heavens themselves. Chapter 191 Saved again The chanting gradually gave way to raucous conversation as the ogres and orcs began swapping tales of the brutal showdown they had just witnessed.Their voices were filled with admiration, awe, and disbelief. "Did ya see that? That enemy was like no other¡ªmighty strong, full of dark magic! But the Warchief crushed him like he was nothing!" "Nothing?! He was more than that, mate. He was like a force, that one. All that undead magic swirling around, but our Warchief tore him apart piece by piece!" "Aye, he was so strong, I thought we''d be done for! I was bracing myself for the worst!" They laughed, though some still bore expressions of awe mixed with disbelief. The Death Monarch, as they would soon come to call him, had been a terrifying enemy, his dark aura nearly overwhelming them all. None had known his name, but they understood he was a being of unfathomable power, something out of legend. And yet, Volk had ripped through him like he was a common foe. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. An ogre, with a large scar across his chest, raised his voice above the chatter, his eyes glinting with pride. "OUR WARCHIEF TOOK DOWN THE MOST POWERFUL ENEMY I''VE EVER SEEN! EVEN STRONGER THAN THOSE MYTHS WE HEAR!" "Aye! It was like the end o'' the world right here, but our Warchief¡ªhe fought like thunder! Like fire in the night!" The words spread, murmurs and nods of agreement rippling through the crowd. Each of them, deep in their own memories, began recounting details of Volk''s astonishing strength, the way his fists had struck like mountain-breaking hammers. The more they shared, the more their voices rose, each account adding to the legend. "I never thought anyone could move so fast! The Death Thing¡ªhe was casting spells left and right, but Volk¡­ Volk just swatted ''em like flies!" "What about that black magic? He shrugged it off like it was nothing! Like he was born to crush that kinda power!" The tales grew, each recounting building upon the last until the battle seemed even more grand and brutal. The young orcs listened with wide eyes, looking up at Volk as though he were some kind of god. Their hearts swelled with awe, each of them determined to someday reach such strength themselves. Then, one bold orc stepped forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity, barely able to contain his excitement. "Warchief! Tell us! How did ya get so strong so fast? That power¡ªit''s not like anythin'' we''ve seen before! Is it... permanent?" The others leaned in, curious, hoping for an answer that would unlock secrets they could strive for. Volk turned to them, crossing his massive arms, his lips pulling into a grin that sent a shiver of awe through the crowd. "YA WANNA KNOW MY SECRET?" The Horde fell silent, hanging on his every word. Volk leaned in, his voice lowering but rumbling like distant thunder. "THE SECRET IS¡­ I''M JUST THAT STRONG!" The ogres and orcs blinked, wide-eyed, before the silence exploded into a chorus of cheers and laughter. "JUST THAT STRONG!" they repeated, voices thick with pride and admiration. "THE WARCHIEF DON''T NEED NO TRICKS!" "OUR WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST!" The ground shook as they stomped their feet, shouting Volk''s words back at him, each of them charged with a fierce sense of loyalty and belief. But then, a weak sound broke through the celebratory cheers. "Cough¡­ cough¡­" The horde turned, a ripple of surprise passing through them as they spotted a lone figure¡ªa human, bloodied and broken but somehow still alive. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he recognized the man. Wasn''t that the other system user? The host of the enemy''s magic? Song Woo-Ji''s form was a shadow of what it had been. His face was pale and smeared with blood, his once-proud posture now hunched, his body shaking with terror as he struggled to crawl away. With each desperate inch, he whimpered, a pitiful sound that only served to stir the Horde''s contempt. "H-how¡­ how did this happen¡­?" Song Woo-Ji muttered, his voice trembling. "This can''t be¡­ anyone, please¡­ someone¡­ s-save¡­ me¡­" His voice was barely a whisper, each word choked by fear. The ogres and orcs watched in stunned silence, contempt mixing with fascination as they looked down on the broken figure before them. This was a man who had once stood with his chin high, sure of his power. And now, he was nothing but a shell, a shattered remnant of the once-arrogant system user. Song Woo-Ji''s hand clawed at the ground, pulling his weak, trembling body forward. "This isn''t¡­ how it was supposed to be," he gasped, eyes wide and unfocused. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his face a mask of panic as he struggled to escape. Volk watched him, his eyes narrowing, and without a word, he began to move forward. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, each step resonating with the weight of inevitable doom. The orcs and ogres stepped aside, giving their Warchief a wide berth, their eyes fixed on him, eager to see what he would do. The closer Volk came, the more Song Woo-Ji''s fear grew. He clawed at the ground, trying to crawl faster, his movements frantic and clumsy. "N-no¡­ no, this can''t be! I''m¡­ I''m not meant to die here! I was¡­ chosen! There has to be another way¡­ someone, anyone¡­ help!" The Horde remained silent, watching him with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination. Song Woo-Ji''s voice had devolved into hysterical pleas, each word filled with raw, unfiltered terror. "P-please¡­ please, I''ll do anything! Don''t¡­ don''t let it end like this!" But Volk said nothing, his expression cold and unreadable. His form loomed larger as he approached, casting a shadow over the broken system user, his every movement radiating power and authority. When he finally stood over Song Woo-Ji, Volk''s massive shadow engulfed him entirely. Song Woo-Ji''s breathing quickened, his eyes wild with terror as he looked up at the hulking ogre. Desperation etched into every line of his face, he tried to scuttle backward, his hands slipping on the dirt in his frantic attempts to escape. Volk leaned down, his voice rumbling, cold and unforgiving. "WHAT''S YOUR NAME, SYSTEM USER?" Song Woo-Ji''s gaze was locked on Volk''s shadow looming above him, eyes wide, chest heaving. He coughed, blood flecking his lips as he struggled to muster the strength to speak. The question hung heavy between them, cold and merciless. As Volk''s massive arm began to raise, casting a deeper shadow over Song Woo-Ji, panic took hold, freezing him in place as he finally stammered, "S-Song Woo-Ji¡­" A strange shimmer flickered around him¡ªa light that seemed misplaced in this battlefield. The air quivered, dense with magic. Suddenly, a gust of energy swirled around Song Woo-Ji, wrapping him in a protective aura. Before Volk could bring his crushing arm down, the aura intensified, and with a soft swoosh, he vanished. Volk frowned, his hand hanging mid-air, the sudden emptiness where his prey had been causing his brows to furrow. He turned slowly, feeling the traces of magic, until his gaze fell on the distant figure of a woman¡ªa woman he recognized¡ªstanding a few yards away. She was panting heavily, her face pale, exhaustion etched deep into her features. "HMMM?" Chapter 192 System update completed Bong Me-Eon had done it without thinking.Watching Song Woo-Ji so close to death¡ªso utterly defeated¡ªhad broken something within her. She couldn''t let it happen again. Not to him. Not when she''d already lost so much. Her chest heaved as she struggled to remain upright, a sharp ache throbbing through her limbs. Song Woo-Ji lay beside her, stunned but alive, saved by her last-minute intervention. She knew this was a fleeting moment, and yet, even a single second longer was worth it. For Bong Me-Eon, the concept of loss was no stranger. It was a shadow, always lurking, always waiting to take those she held dear. Her life was a story written in loss, a cycle that had begun far too young. Her first memory of it was of her parents. She was barely a child, innocent and bright-eyed, clinging to her mother''s hand as they strolled down the busy streets of their town. It was a vibrant day, filled with the chatter of vendors and the laughter of passersby. But in an instant, it all shattered. She remembered her mother''s scream, the way her father''s body twisted as he shielded her from the oncoming car. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The world blurred, and when it came back into focus, she was alone, her tiny hands stained with the blood of the people who had once been her world. After that, she was taken in by her grandmother, a gentle woman who tried her best to heal Bong Me-Eon''s shattered heart. For a while, things seemed better, as though maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªshe could learn to smile again. But fate was relentless. Her grandmother''s health began to fail, each cough a reminder of the inevitable. Bong Me-Eon would sit by her bedside, watching the light fade from her grandmother''s eyes, helpless to stop it. And then, one quiet evening, her grandmother took her last breath, her hand slipping from Bong Me-Eon''s grasp. Time went on, and the world continued spinning, indifferent to her pain. She started school, making friends who didn''t know the depth of her sorrow. And for a while, she managed to convince herself that maybe she could lead a normal life. But then, one day, her best friend didn''t show up to school. Rumors spread through the classroom like wildfire, whispers of an accident, of a life snuffed out too soon. Bong Me-Eon attended the funeral, numb, wondering why this endless cycle of loss seemed to follow her. It didn''t stop there. In her teenage years, her grandfather, who had been her last tie to the family, fell ill. She watched as his once-strong frame withered away, his spirit crushed beneath the weight of age and illness. He had been her rock, the one who encouraged her to keep going. But even he couldn''t escape the clutches of fate. She sat with him in his final moments, clutching his frail hand, feeling the last vestiges of warmth leave his body as he slipped away, leaving her once again alone. She grew up fast, learning to guard her heart, to avoid attachments. Yet, even in her guarded life, someone managed to slip past her defenses¡ªa senior at college. He was kind, with a smile that seemed to chase away the shadows that clung to her. For the first time in years, Bong Me-Eon allowed herself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could hold onto something. But then came the news¡ªa tragic accident. She stared blankly at the message, the words blurring as she felt the familiar sting of loss pierce her heart. When the apocalypse came, she found herself part of a team¡ªa group of survivors who, against all odds, became her family. They fought together, survived together, each of them carrying their own scars. She grew close to them, despite herself, finding comfort in their camaraderie. But the world was cruel, and the monsters that emerged from the spatial tears were merciless. One by one, her teammates fell, their screams haunting her nights as she fought to stay alive amidst the chaos. By the end, she was the last one standing, her heart heavier than ever. After that, she found a mentor, a master who taught her the ways of magic, who gave her the tools to survive in a world that seemed determined to break her. She respected her, admired her, even cared for her in a way she hadn''t allowed herself to care for anyone in years. But fate was relentless. During this fight, she sacrificed himself to give time and awaken inside Song Woo-Ji this monster in front of them, her final words urging her to keep going, to live for the both of them, especially Song Woo-Ji. So now, standing here, with her heart heavy with memories of everyone she had lost, Bong Me-Eon knew that saving Song Woo-Ji was a futile gesture. She knew that this moment was borrowed, that his life was likely forfeit. And yet, even a second more¡ªa single heartbeat more¡ªwas worth it. If she could spare him from the same fate that had claimed everyone else, even if just for a moment, she would do it. She looked down at Song Woo-Ji, her expression a mixture of sorrow and determination. She had saved him, even if only temporarily. Volk threw his head back and laughed, his deep, guttural voice echoing through the air like a rolling thunderstorm. "PUNY HUMAN!" he bellowed, each word dripping with disdain. "FUTILE EFFORTS! YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE THE WRATH OF THE HORDE''S WARCHIEF? PATHETIC!" His laughter grew louder as he took slow, menacing steps toward the weakened figures of Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji. With every step, the ground trembled beneath Volk''s immense weight, each impact sending small shockwaves through the ground. The dirt cracked and shuddered, each step more intense than the last, as if the very earth feared his approach. His gaze burned, fixed on the two figures who had dared to defy him. "WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO ACHIEVE?" he boomed, his voice thick with scorn. "ANOTHER PITIFUL ATTEMPT? ANOTHER PATHETIC TRICK?" Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji lay on the ground, struggling to summon what little energy they had left. She glanced at Song Woo-Ji, her eyes a mixture of apology and determination. She couldn''t give up, not yet. With a strained hand, she began to conjure, the remnants of her mana sparking faintly in the air around them. Her breath was labored, her body visibly shaking as she pushed herself past her limits, beads of sweat forming on her brow. But Volk only chuckled, his laugh carrying a dark amusement. "YES, TRY YOUR TRICKS AGAIN," he taunted, spreading his massive arms wide, as if welcoming the attempt. "ESCAPE! LET ME HUNT YOU. LET ME ENJOY THIS LITTLE GAME OF YOURS!" His footsteps didn''t falter, his pace slow and deliberate, savoring every inch he closed between them. Each time his boot hit the ground, Song Woo-Ji flinched, a terror consuming him that seemed to make the air thick with dread. And then, Bong Me-Eon managed it¡ªa flash, barely enough mana for one more teleportation. She clenched her teeth, feeling the magic drain the last of her strength as she forced herself and Song Woo-Ji to vanish in a burst of light. But as they reappeared a few yards away, Volk''s laughter echoed again, louder, more mocking. "BRAGA HAHAHAHAHA! AMUSING AMUSING¡­" Without a hint of hurry, he turned toward them, resuming his steady, relentless advance. "IS THIS ALL YOU''VE GOT?" he sneered, his voice laced with ridicule. "RUN! RUN AGAIN, WEAKLINGS! I WILL CATCH YOU EVERY TIME." His eyes gleamed with an unholy fire as he took another step forward. Bong Me-Eon''s heart sank; her entire body screamed in protest as she tried to summon even a sliver of mana. But it was useless; her reserves were completely depleted. She exchanged a hollow glance with Song Woo-Ji, the resignation clear in their eyes. They had reached their limit. Volk loomed over them now, towering and unyielding. He lifted his arms, each muscle rippling with power as he prepared to bring down his fist. "NO MORE GAMES. ACCEPT YOUR FATE, HUMAN SCUM!" he snarled. His eyes glowed with feral glee, his breath hot and heavy as he prepared to strike the final blow. As his hand began its descent, a strange resistance halted him mid-motion. His eyes narrowed as he tried to push through, but his arm froze, hovering inches from Bong Me-Eon. "HUH?" Volk grunted, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. He stared at his own hand, flexing his fingers as if trying to understand why his body had betrayed him. Then, a chime resonated in his mind. Ding! | System Update Completed. | Chapter 193 Escape! Volk''s powerful arm hung in the air, frozen mid-swing, his fingers so close to Bong Me-Eon''s face he could practically feel the heat radiating from her skin.Yet he couldn''t move, couldn''t bring his fist down, couldn''t finish them. He gritted his teeth, straining with every ounce of strength to force his arm to obey him. But it was no use; his entire body was locked in place, as if bound by chains unseen. He growled, his frustration boiling over. "SYSTEM?" he roared internally, the rage simmering in his mind. His heart thudded as he tried to shake his limbs free, but every muscle seemed encased in iron. That system had been silent through all this¡ªthrough every smash, every kill, every ounce of power he had drawn to crush the pathetic enemies at his feet. Now, just now when he was about to finish it? Now, the system intervened? "WHAT¡­ WHAT IS THIS?!" Volk''s deep voice rumbled, barely a whisper through clenched teeth. Around him, his Horde of Orcs and Ogres had also become locked in place, their confusion spreading like wildfire. They began to murmur, eyes darting in all directions as they fought the same paralyzing force that bound their Warchief. "Warchief¡­ I can''t¡­ I can''t move!" bellowed an Ogre, his voice cracking with panic. "What''s happenin'' to us?" an Orc nearby muttered, twisting his body, eyes wide as he looked down at his trembling arms. "Did we get cursed? Warchief? Is this¡­ some kinda magic?" An older Orc''s voice rang out, thick with terror. "Never¡­ felt anything like this. Even those cursed sorcerers didn''t have this power! This¡­ this is unnatural!" "It''s like chains! I can''t even scratch my nose!" shouted another Ogre, his eyes wild with helplessness. "Someone¡­ break us free!" S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk could hear the fear rippling through his Horde, feel the dread rising around him. The cries, curses, and mutters tangled together, building into a crescendo of confusion. "Warchief, this isn''t right!" a young Orc whimpered. "I thought you were gonna crush them!" An Orc shaman struggled, straining against the invisible bonds. "By the gods! There''s nothing I can do against this force!" he howled, sweat dripping down his face. "It''s like some¡­ otherworldly hand gripping us!" Your next read is at empire "I''m not made for this! Let me fight, let me break something!" a larger Ogre roared, trying in vain to move his bulky arms. "Warchief! What should we do?" Each Orc and Ogre seemed to turn to Volk, desperate for their Warchief to lead them, to break them free from this strange paralysis. But he could do nothing¡ªonly stand there, watching the fear ripple across his warriors, his voice swallowed in a choking silence. Then, a notification materialized before Volk, the familiar ding echoing hollowly in his ears: Ding! | The host has made a huge error. | The words hung before him, mocking him with their cold detachment. Using a glitch in a system, causing a big problem to the main system. His fury simmered beneath the surface as he read the words again and again. A glitch? His strength, his rise to absolute dominance, dismissed as some error? Around him, the murmurs and mutters of his Horde grew louder, the panic setting in as the realization began to dawn. "Warchief''s frozen too!" cried a voice from the crowd. "What does this mean? Are we¡­ Are we all cursed?" "Does this mean he''s not in control of it? Was his power a¡­ mistake?" The terrified words cut deep, raking at Volk''s pride like claws. He struggled, pushing against the frozen lock with every fiber of his being, feeling the taunt of the system weighing on him. The notification shifted, another message appearing before his eyes, taunting him with cold precision: Please wait¡­ System troubleshooting¡­ ¡­ On the other hand, opposite of them, Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji stared in shock, their breaths caught in their throats as they watched the towering figures of the Orcs and Ogres, as well as their monstrous leader, Volk, frozen as if ensnared by some invisible force. Volk''s hand was suspended in the air, his expression a twisted mask of rage and confusion, locked in place only inches from them. "What¡­ what is going on?" Bong Me-Eon whispered, eyes wide as she scanned the battlefield, her heart pounding as an eerie silence replaced the chaos of moments before. Song Woo-Ji''s hands trembled, and he swallowed, unable to look away. "I don''t know," he whispered back. "But whatever it is, it''s powerful enough to paralyze even them. I thought¡­ I thought nothing could stop them." Suddenly, a faint crackle of bones echoed beside them, and both of them jerked, spinning to see a familiar figure¡ªa skeleton warrior, thin and ragged, its skull tilting to the side as it looked up at them. The hollow eye sockets seemed to blink with concern, and a skeletal hand rose in a sort of cautious salute. "Master?" it rasped, its hollow voice echoing strangely in the stillness. "Lady Bong Me-Eon? What¡­ what in the name of the gods is going on?" Song Woo-Ji''s eyes widened, and he looked down at the skeleton warrior, a creation he had almost forgotten in the madness of recent events. "What¡­ How did you get here?" The skeleton pointed toward the direction of the battle. "I was drawn to the disturbance. And I¡ª" Its eye sockets flicked back to the hulking figure of Volk. The skeleton recoiled, bones clattering as it took a nervous step back. "Gods above¡­ Song Woo-Ji, that creature! I remember him¡ªhe''s the one that slaughtered you in the Draconic Graveyard Domain!" Song Woo-Ji grimaced, giving a stiff nod. "I know¡­ believe me, I remember." The skeleton''s jaw dropped as it continued to look at Volk. "But¡­ he''s not moving? None of them are. Why¡­ why isn''t it moving?" Song Woo-Ji shook his head, confusion in his voice. "I¡­ I don''t know. They were about to kill us, and then suddenly¡­ this happened." The skeleton scratched its skull, baffled. "Strange. Very strange." Its hollow gaze flickered with an odd excitement, and it turned back to Song Woo-Ji, bone fingers flexing. "Should I kill him, master? Take him out while he''s paralyzed?" Song Woo-Ji let out a weary laugh, his voice tinged with frustration. "No. You wouldn''t even be able to scratch him. And the moment whatever this is wears off, he''ll squash you into dust. It''s better if we use this chance to leave. Recover. And¡­ tell others about what we''ve seen here." The skeleton nodded, a serious gleam in its eye sockets. "Yes, master. You''re right." It looked to Bong Me-Eon, then back to Song Woo-Ji. "Come, I will help you both." With that, the skeleton warrior reached out, its bony fingers wrapping around Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji''s arms with surprising care, helping them rise to their feet. It pulled them gently, guiding them over the rubble-strewn battlefield as they cast wary glances back at the frozen horde, the silence thickening around them like a tangible weight. Volk''s gaze seemed to follow them, still locked in fury, his face frozen in place. Each slow step away felt like an eternity, the faint clicks of the skeleton''s bony feet echoing through the unnerving stillness. Chapter 194 Back at... As Song Woo-Ji and Bong Me-Eon were cautiously pulled away by the little skeleton, Volk felt an odd, creeping sensation within him¡ªa pull, faint at first, then growing, filling his entire body.It was foreign, disorienting. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He shook his head, trying to dispel it, but the pull grew stronger, spreading from his chest to his limbs, his fists loosening from their rock-like grip. His breaths quickened, the cold weight of dread settling in his gut. The Horde behind him began to shift uncomfortably. Several Orcs looked down at their hands, alarm spreading as they realized they were growing smaller, their muscles shrinking. The ones who had been transformed into towering, battle-hardened Ogres were now feeling that power drain from their bodies, like sand slipping through their fingers. One Orc warrior, his voice shaky with fear, cried out, "What¡­ what''s happening to us?" His voice wavered, frantic as he looked around, seeing the others go through the same horrifying change. "I¡­ I''m shrinking! What sorcery is this?" Another, previously a massive Ogre with tusks the size of daggers, raised his hands in terror as they rapidly shriveled, returning to the rough but slender build of a regular Orc. "My power¡­ It''s gone! My strength is¡­ fading!" All around, the Horde erupted into a storm of panicked voices, their shouts echoing across the battlefield as they scrambled to comprehend what was happening to them. Some clawed at their skin as if they could hold onto their former selves, while others staggered, trying to keep balance as their hulking bodies shrank back into the lean, wiry frames of their original Orc forms. "Is this a curse?" one of them shouted, voice thick with fear. "Are we being punished? Did we anger the gods?" Another roared in frustration, pounding his fist into the ground only to find the force behind his punch diminished, the impact pitiful compared to what it had been moments before. "I was strong¡ªstronger than ever before! What dark magic has stolen it from me?" Closer to Volk, a particularly burly Orc who had enjoyed his transformation into an Ogre looked up, his voice was a desperate plea. "Warchief! What¡­ what''s going on? Why are we losing our power?" The other Orcs and those who had previously stood as proud Ogres turned to Volk, their voices a chorus of questions, confusion, and rising desperation. They looked to him for answers, clinging to the hope that their Warchief, their indomitable leader, would explain it all and somehow fix whatever cursed thing was happening to them. But Volk remained silent. His jaw was clenched, muscles tightening as he forced himself to ignore the chaos around him. He could feel it too¡ªhis own transformation beginning. His biceps, which had swelled with incredible strength, were deflating, the dense layers of power he had wielded with such ease slipping away, shrinking him back to his old form. The towering, monstrous stature that had once made him the terror of all who faced him was draining out of him, bit by bit, like a nightmare retreating with the dawn. Deep down, Volk knew what this was. The system¡ªthe very thing that had granted him these powers, had given him the strength to become the Horde''s unshakable leader¡ªwas somehow behind this. It was the same presence that had frozen him moments ago, the same force that had bound him and the Horde in place. He could feel it, lurking in the corners of his mind like an overseer pulling the strings. And now, it was retracting its gift, pulling back the strength it had given him and his Horde. An Orc stumbled forward, gripping Volk''s arm in a desperate plea, his eyes wide with fear. "Warchief, say something! Do you know what''s happening to us?" But Volk held his silence, ignoring the question. He tightened his fists, teeth gritted, as he tried to resist the steady transformation. His vision blurred as his towering form shrank further, until he was no longer the monstrous Ogre but a strong, albeit normal, Orc once more. The Horde''s panic was already a storm, but when they felt an unseen force dragging them down, their panic transformed into sheer terror. Each Orc felt as though invisible chains wrapped around their ankles, jerking them toward the ground. Experience exclusive tales on empire The sensation wasn''t painful, but it was unnervingly powerful, as if some invisible hand had reached from the earth to claim them. They tried to fight it, planting their feet, clawing at the dirt, but there was no resisting the pull. It was inevitable, unyielding, like gravity itself had doubled. "Wh-What''s happening now?" one Orc cried out, his voice trembling. He clawed at the ground, fingers tearing through the soil, trying to anchor himself, but the pull continued, relentless. Another Orc let out a scream, his voice breaking as he yelled, "Are we being dragged to the underworld?! Is this how we''re going to end?!" Closer to Volk, a former Ogre shrieked in pure dread, digging his nails into the ground, his voice choked with fear. "Warchief! Save us! Do something!" He scrabbled at the ground, muscles straining as he fought against the invisible grip pulling him down. Orcs and former Ogres alike continued to shout in horror, their voices rising into an almost discordant symphony of panic. They clawed at each other, scrambling, trying to hold onto anything solid to resist the force. Some grabbed onto rocks or trees, only to be yanked backward, their nails breaking as they desperately tried to find something to hold onto. One after another, they lost their grip, sliding across the ground like leaves caught in a violent wind. "NO! I WON''T BE TAKEN! I WON''T GO!" one of them roared, his fists pounding the ground in sheer denial, trying to fight back against whatever fate awaited him. Another Orc thrashed, his voice filled with raw panic. "Is this our punishment for challenging the gods? For facing¡­ that¡­ creature?" His voice was a mix of sobs and anger, each word dripping with despair. They all turned toward Volk, their eyes pleading for answers, hoping their Warchief would somehow break free of whatever was binding them. But Volk, in the midst of the uproar, stood silently. He was calm¡ªalmost unnaturally so. He felt the pull as well, but he did not resist it. His muscles were relaxed, his face resolute as he allowed the force to claim him. He watched as his warriors struggled, thrashing and crying out, but his stance remained solid, his expression unreadable. One by one, as the pull became stronger, his warriors began to disappear into the earth, dissolving into shadows, each one vanishing with cries of disbelief and despair. "Warchief! Don''t leave us! Warchief!" And then, in one great sweep, darkness overtook Volk''s vision. The dragging sensation intensified, pulling him downward, swallowing him whole. He could feel himself falling, sinking deeper, into a strange, weightless void. He couldn''t see or hear anything; it was as if he had been pulled out of reality itself. And suddenly, he felt solid ground beneath his feet. The darkness faded, and he looked around. The familiar stone walls, the cold, echoing chambers, the endless rows of forgotten bones and relics¡ªhe was back. He was standing in the catacomb. The place he had been before all this, before the world of the tablet had swallowed him whole. One by one, his warriors reappeared beside him, each Orc and Ogre stumbling onto the stone floor, bewildered. They looked around in shock, eyes wide, breathing heavy as they tried to make sense of it. "Back¡­ here?" one Orc whispered, looking around, barely believing it. Chapter 195 Glitch Abuse As soon as Volk''s feet touched the cold stone of the catacomb, a bright screen flickered into his vision.The words materialized in large, unforgiving letters, shimmering with an almost accusatory intensity: Ding! | The Host Has Committed a System Violation: Glitch Abuse Detected | Volk''s eyes narrowed as he read, his face tense. He could almost feel the system''s disapproving glare through the glowing text. More lines began to appear, each word firm and final: | While the System was Updating, the Host accessed powers without limitation, exceeding intended limits and exploiting an update vulnerability. | This has been deemed a serious infraction. | The words lingered ominously, and for a moment, Volk felt a pang of irritation, his hands clenching. But the message continued, cutting off any frustration he might feel: | Warning: | This is not how the system is designed to function. | Abusing glitches or unintended power flows can lead to severe consequences, destabilizing both user abilities and the System''s balance. | Such actions threaten the integrity of your status as Host and the stability of your powers. | Another line flashed, bold and undeniable: | Future misuse of this nature will result in penalties, or worse, potential removal of Host privileges. | The System is not a limitless well to be drained without consequence. | Respect the constraints, or face disciplinary action. | The system''s warning felt almost personal, the cold, mechanical tone somehow laced with reprimand. The final line appeared with a grim finality: | Abusing update periods or exceeding boundaries is detrimental. | This warning is final. | Do not repeat this. | Volk''s jaw tightened as the screen faded out. He could feel the lingering weight of the warning pressing down on him, like an unshakable shadow. Volk''s eyes narrowed as another message glowed before him, every word etched with an air of finality and consequence. | In order for the System to function optimally and sustainably, the Host must adhere to the following condition: | The message paused, as if to ensure he was paying attention. | The Host shall not exceed three minutes of usage in Radioactive Form. | Volk''s mouth opened wide, his jaw dropping as he tried to process the restriction. Three minutes? He could barely hold back his strength for that long! But the system continued, unwavering. | Failure to comply will result in a severe consequence: | The Host will lose all control, entering a mindless state with no return. Stay updated with empire | This is the only solution. | The words hit Volk like a hammer. He, the Warchief, would be reduced to a mindless brute if he pushed beyond this limit. It was unthinkable. Just as he was starting to grasp this new limitation, the screen shimmered with more text, piling on the news that he dreaded most. | Due to the Host''s abuse of the glitch during the recent update, a recalibration is required. | Effective immediately, the Horde will be dispersed. | The Host''s allies¡ªOrcs and Ogres alike¡ªwill be randomly scattered across Orzaroth. | Proximity to the Host''s core power source, the nuclear vessel¡ªSolluha''r is not guaranteed. | A sinking feeling gripped Volk''s chest. His Horde¡ªthe warriors who had battled beside him, who had laid siege to the Death Monarch¡ªwould be flung to distant, unknown lands. They could be anywhere, cut off from his power, his protection. He would be alone once more, without the army he had painstakingly built. The final words blinked before him with a grim, mechanical determination: | This measure is to ensure system stability and prevent future misuse. | The screen faded, and Volk was left in the silence of the catacombs, his thoughts swirling. The weight of the system''s warning¡ªand the knowledge of his scattered Horde¡ªhung over him like a shadow, dark and unyielding. Volk clenched his fists, his voice rumbling in the stillness of the catacomb. "What do you mean, I can''t use my power? What did you expect me to do? Sit back and let that worm slip through my fingers? The System User was there, taunting me, mocking me! You can''t expect me to just wait around and be beaten!" His tone dripped with frustration, his chest heaving as he struggled to rein in the rage simmering within. After a pause, the system''s cold, mechanical voice echoed in response, | The System''s purpose is to support the Host''s survival and growth. | One decisive victory over a rival System User would have sufficed. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. | However, the Host pursued the opponent relentlessly, even beyond initial mission parameters. | Volk glared at the message, his brow furrowing. "So what? Am I just supposed to stop fighting because you say so? You don''t understand. Humans don''t quit. Humans don''t stop until their enemies are ground to dust beneath their feet!" He growled, feeling every inch of his orcish nature boiling over with indignation. The system''s voice returned, calm and unyielding. | Indeed, humans have an unbreakable spirit, a relentless drive to overcome the impossible especially if it regards their survival. | It is a trait that enabled them to evolve and survive, even in the darkest times. | Their persistence pulled them from caves, allowed them to conquer lands, and built civilizations. | The words hung in the air, ringing with a strange wisdom. Volk scoffed, shaking his head, but there was a pause in his retort as if some small part of him grasped the truth of what the system was saying. | But know this, Host, | the system continued, | pride in superiority cannot be your sole guide. There are limits, necessary boundaries that exist to protect not just you but also the structure of the system itself. | Had the Host not chased after pride, not strained the power past its limits, the system would remain intact, and the Horde would remain together. | Such an unyielding chase beyond purpose risks more than battle¡ª it risks unraveling the foundation that supports you. | The implication stung, almost like a slap across Volk''s face. Pride. The system was blaming his pride. His human pride. He spat on the ground, refusing to look at the shimmering message before him, but he couldn''t quite brush off the truth in it. The screen blinked again, as if sensing Volk''s struggle to accept the message. | Let this be a lesson: | Pride and power, unchecked, do not lead to strength but to instability. You are already the best System User¡ªan undisputed force. | Your survival and the Horde''s growth must take precedence. If survival means walking away from a fight, then the Host must consider that course. | The advice struck a nerve. "Walk away?" he muttered, his voice rough with defiance. "You think I could just walk away?" | Not every battle requires a relentless pursuit. Know when to fight. Know when to conserve. Not for pride, but for progress. | The screen''s glow faded slowly, leaving Volk in the dim, echoing chamber of the catacomb, his thoughts twisting and turning. This¡­ ''lesson'' wasn''t just about power. It was about control, about survival. The system didn''t see pride as strength; it saw it as a risk, a threat to his very existence. However, Volk would be annoyed. Yet he can somehow understand the system. It tells him that even though he grasped the system, he must not view it as an enemy. Volk feels guilty; although he wants to use the system in any way he can, he doesn''t want to be its dog. He would follow each of its advice, but instead, he became rebellious. That''s why, even though he feels something is wrong when he realizes he is not returning to being a normal Orc despite surpassing the time limit, he chooses to abuse it instead. Chapter 196 I am, an Orc! In the damp, eerie silence of the catacombs, the Orcs glanced around, their breaths clouding in the frigid, musty air.The flickering torches cast eerie shadows along the stone walls, their wavering light illuminating twisted carvings and strange runes etched into the ancient stones. Every so often, the low rumble of far-off water echoed through the halls, lending an unsettling heartbeat to the ancient tomb around them. A young Orc stepped forward, scratching at the back of his neck, eyes darting uneasily to Volk. "Uh, Warchief," he started, his voice hesitant, "is this¡­ is this place doin'' this to us? It''s gotta be, right? It''s this catacomb that brought us back?" His voice carried a mixture of awe and frustration, tinged with the faintest quiver of fear. Volk''s sharp gaze shifted, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon the Orc. Slowly, he nodded, his expression stone-cold, his silence far more oppressive than any answer he could''ve given. The other Orcs exchanged worried glances, their murmurs filling the space like the rustle of dead leaves, small whispers piling up like snow before a storm. "But¡­ but why, Warchief?" another Orc spoke up, his voice barely more than a murmur. "We''d started to carve out our place in that ranker world. We were building, we were gaining strength. We could live there. In peace." Volk''s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening like a storm cloud rolling over an unbroken sky. The silence grew thick as he stepped forward, the ominous weight of his approach causing the orcs around him to fall back slightly. Without a word, he reached out, his massive hand clamping down on the head of the Orc who''d spoken. The Orc''s eyes went wide, but before he could react, Volk wrenched him downward, smashing his head into the stone floor with a bone-cracking bang! BAM! Volk''s fist descended upon him, smashing again and again, each strike resounding through the catacombs like thunder. BAM! Another blow, cracking against the Orc''s cheekbone, driving him deeper into the cold, unyielding ground. BAM! BAM! Volk''s fists pounded mercilessly, like war drums, each strike sending reverberations through the walls and through the hearts of every Orc in the chamber. "W-Warchief!" one Orc stammered, eyes wide in terror, but he could only watch as Volk''s knuckles split and bruised with each strike, yet his relentless fury didn''t pause. Blood splattered across the stones, and the Orc beneath Volk could barely twitch in response. BAM! Volk''s knuckles crashed against the battered Orc''s head, the sickening crunch of bone and flesh filling the air. Volk''s face twisted with a primal fury, his eyes gleaming in the torchlight with a fire that could devour the world. And with one final strike, he pulled back his fist, breathing heavily as he stood over the Orc''s limp body. He straightened, wiping his blood-splattered hand across his chest. His breathing was harsh, ragged, yet his stance remained as steady as stone. The other Orcs stood there, paralyzed, some wide-eyed in horror, others confused. The one Volk had beaten was barely conscious, groaning as the others caught him, dragging him back into the crowd. The silence was thick, so thick it felt like a presence of its own, like a dark spirit lingering in the catacomb. Volk''s gaze swept over them, fierce and unyielding, and the other Orcs looked away, some gripping their weapons in fear. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Did you all forget," he growled, voice low and cold, "what you all are?" The question hung in the air, sharp and stinging. Some Orcs looked down, others shuffled uncomfortably, but no one answered. They didn''t know what he meant, or maybe they were too afraid to answer, caught between confusion and Volk''s growing fury. Volk''s voice exploded, shaking the walls with his thunderous roar. "HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHAT YOU ARE?" They flinched, every single one of them, feeling his rage ripple through them like an unstoppable wave. The disbelief and contempt in his voice struck them to the core. "You want peace?" Volk sneered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at them one by one, each Orc withering under his gaze. "Do you think that''s what we were born for? To sit in a world and live quietly, like dogs tied to a leash?" Their hearts thundered in their chests, something primal stirring within them as he spoke. The raw power of his words wrapped around them like chains, binding them to his every syllable. "I was born into this blood," Volk snarled, his fists clenching tightly. "Born for war, for battle, for conquest. I am an Orc." His words struck with the weight of a hammer, each one driving deep into their souls, awakening something that had been sleeping, something fierce and unyielding. His gaze grew distant, yet fiercer, as if staring through the stone walls, across worlds. "The Warlocks, the Dark Elves¡­ those bastards think they can live well after humiliating us and sending us by hiding in this realm below, by trapping us here, cutting us off from our true strength? Do you really think I''ll settle for scraps, for ''peace''?" He spat the word as if it were poison. "Someday, they will know what it is to fear us. Someday, they''ll pay for every ounce of blood we''ve spilled, for every battle we''ve lost." A shiver ran through the gathered Orcs, his words burning into their minds. "We are warriors, born in blood and raised in the fires of war!" Volk roared, his voice filling the chamber, every word resounding with a primal power that seeped into their bones. "Our purpose isn''t peace. Our purpose is power, glory, strength! We are the storm that shatters empires, the fire that consumes nations!" The Orcs looked at one another, their hearts pounding, something raw and untamed stirring within them. Volk''s words weren''t just words¡ªthey were a call, an awakening. They were reminding them of who they were, what they were. It was more than Volk''s strength; it was his unbreakable spirit, his fierce, undying drive to conquer. His eyes bore into them, fierce and relentless. "You all want a safe haven?" His voice was dripping with disgust, and the Orcs shifted, suddenly ashamed. "If you''ve forgotten who you are, if you think we''re here to hide from war¡ªthen go! Run and find your peace somewhere else! But I am an Orc!" He clenched his fists, his face contorting with an intensity that sent a shiver down their spines. "I am Volk, and I will never cower, never hide. I was born for this!" His words dripped with ferocity, every syllable biting into them like teeth. The Orcs could feel their hearts racing, their blood heating, each word fanning a fire within them they''d forgotten was there. Volk''s vision was their vision, his fury their fury. They hadn''t been meant to live quietly, to settle for anything less than battle. Your adventure continues at empire They''d lost their way. But Volk, he was here to remind them. "Someday, we''ll tear down the walls of the worlds above," Volk declared, his voice low and dark, heavy with promise. "Someday, the Warlocks, the Dark Elves¡ªthey''ll tremble before us. And until that day, I will fight, I will conquer, and I will remember what it means to be an Orc." Silence followed, thick and heavy, every Orc feeling the weight of his words settling deep within them. And then, Volk''s gaze met theirs, fierce, unyielding. "ARE YOU ALL AN OOOOOORRC?" he bellowed, his voice crashing over them like a wave, thundering through the very core of their beings. The silence held for a heartbeat, two, and then¡ª "Yes!" one shouted, his voice fierce and wild. "ORCS!" another cried, his eyes wide with a newfound fury, his fists clenched tightly. A chorus erupted, voices blending into a single, thunderous roar. "WE ARE ORCS! WE ARE ORCS!" The walls seemed to shake with the power of their chant, their voices blending into a force that felt like it could shatter mountains. They had remembered. They had awakened. Chapter 197 Lower realms danger The moment Volk saw the system notification, it felt like a spark igniting an inferno in his heart.Ding! | The host has one day to rest and prepare to take off to the Orzaroth realm. | Volk nodded, eyes narrowing as he turned his attention back to the gathering of Orcs before him. The fire in his gaze was fierce, hungry, like a beast barely held in check. He straightened, casting a shadow that seemed to tower over each of them, embodying the primal essence of their kin¡ªa force not meant to cower, but to conquer. "ONE DAY!" he roared, his voice echoing through the vast catacomb halls, rumbling and resounding as if the very walls were absorbing his strength. "YOU HEAR ME, ORCS? WE GOT ONE DAY!" The Orcs stared, breaths held, hearts pounding. Even the one he''d beaten was back on his feet, fists clenched, standing amidst the others with a look of fierce determination. They hung on his every word, each question he threw at them like an iron weight. "Tell me! Will we be satisfied in just one ranking world?" Volk''s voice, already loud, seemed to vibrate with an even greater intensity, each word a challenge, a dare. The gathered Orcs bellowed back, voices rising like a tidal wave. "NO!" they shouted, their own shouts merging into a primal chorus that made the walls shake. "WE WANT MORE!" The Orc Volk had struck down was in the front now, shouting louder than the others, his voice ragged but defiant. "WE WANT ALL REALMS! WE WANT TO TRAMPLE THEM ALL!" The words seemed to fuel Volk further, a fire stoking an inferno. He grinned, fierce and dark, the flickering torch light casting shadows across his face that made him look more beast than Orc. "WELL THEN!" he barked, his voice powerful and relentless, slicing through the air. "DON''T THINK IT''LL BE EASY!" He paused, the silence stretching as the Orcs grew still, the weight of his words sinking in. "You think it''s as simple as marching in and taking what''s ours?" he continued, pacing slowly, his boots echoing against the stone floor with each measured step. "Out there, there may be lower realms more dangerous than any you''ve ever seen. Places twisted and strange, filled with horrors that would turn your blood to ice." The Orcs stiffened, their anticipation and excitement tempered with a creeping unease. The idea of unknown realms brought a wary glint to their eyes, but there was no fear, only a readiness¡ªa need to know what lay beyond. Volk raised a hand, counting off with his thick fingers as he began listing off these terrifying realms. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "FIRST! There could be an Abyssal Spire! It''s a twisted tower that stretches up forever. Its walls are carved from the bones of dead gods, and its floors drip with the blood of lost souls. "Each floor''s filled with horrors that crawl from the shadows, creatures with more teeth than sense. They hunt anything that enters¡ªshadows that become solid, claws that pierce through flesh without mercy. "It''s a place where even the ground turns on you. Weaklings? They don''t last a second." Several Orcs shifted uncomfortably, muttering to themselves. Their faces twisted in a blend of horror and awe, picturing the monstrosities Volk described with vivid detail. "SECOND!" Volk thundered, cutting off their murmurs. "There could be a Bleeding Swamp! Maybe it''s a realm of nothing but black, thick muck that smells like the rot of a thousand dead things. "The trees have eyes¡ªalways watching, always waiting. Each step you take, the ground tries to pull you down. "The water? "It''s red as blood, filled with leeches the size of wolves, and they''ll latch on and suck you dry in seconds. If the creatures don''t take you, the swamp itself will. A place of endless hunger." He spat on the ground, the act of pure disgust. The Orcs grimaced, several of them glancing at one another, their expressions shadowed with doubt. The idea of the swamp''s grotesque, lurking inhabitants weighed heavily on them, the very description enough to make even the bravest among them think twice. "THIRD!" Volk''s hand dropped, his gaze darkening further as he continued. "There could be a realm called Silent Gorge¡ªa place of perpetual night. It''s said there''s no sound there, not a whisper, not a breath. The darkness is so thick it''s like it seeps into your skin, drowning you from the inside. "And in that darkness? There are things¡­ things that move, things that hunt, things that get into your mind, twistin'' your thoughts. There''s no safety, no light, and no mercy. A single step can end you." The Orcs listened, their faces paling slightly. There was no pride, no bravado among them, only the stark realization of the realms they would face. They couldn''t fathom such places, each one darker and deadlier than the last. "FOURTH!" Volk roared, his voice even louder, cutting through their unease. "There could be a realm called Screaming Mountains too! These peaks are cursed, riddled with voices that never stop, screaming for eternity, and every voice belongs to someone who fell there. "They say the wind itself turns to knives, slicing flesh, drawing blood. The rocks crumble underfoot, dropping you into pits of spikes, flames, and worse. It''s not a place for cowards. Only the strongest survive." Excitement mingled with fear in the Orcs'' eyes, the terror of it all blending with a growing eagerness. Their pulses quickened, a wild anticipation flickering in their minds. They could almost hear the tortured screams, feel the sharp sting of the wind on their skin. "FIFTH!" Volk''s voice dropped lower, each word carrying a weight that made the air feel thicker, harder to breathe. "Maybe a Mirror City. It''s a place that looks like a city of glass, but each mirror holds a shadow, a copy of you that''s stronger, faster, meaner. Every time you kill one, two more take its place. "There''s no end, only endless battles against yourself, until your mind breaks or your body does. A place that forces you to face what you are¡­ and devours the weak." Discover hidden tales at empire The Orcs were silent, staring at him, their eyes wide and shining with a mix of emotions¡ªfear, awe, anticipation. Volk''s words had painted vivid scenes in their minds, realms of unimaginable horror and danger, yet the thrill of conquest stirred within them, a spark of desire to crush these terrors, to prove themselves against the worst the worlds had to offer. Volk''s gaze raked over them, fierce and unyielding, his presence demanding, challenging. "AND THERE''S MORE," he said, voice dropping to a low growl. "Worlds we can''t even imagine, horrors that would make the gods tremble. But here''s the truth¡ªyou''ll only survive if you remember what you are!" His words hit them like hammer blows, each one striking at the heart of their primal nature, each one stirring the beast within them, the unbreakable spirit of warriors who refused to die, who refused to surrender. Volk could see it, the fire rekindling in their eyes, the uncertainty replaced by a burning resolve. "So I ask you, once again¡ªwill we be satisfied with just one ranker world?" he bellowed, his voice echoing, roaring through the catacombs, a challenge and a promise all in one. "NO!" The crowd of Orcs responded, louder, fiercer than before, their voices united in one deafening roar. Volk''s grin was dark, a flash of teeth as he took in the determination on their faces, the fierce loyalty. Even the Orc he had beaten was there, battered but standing tall, shouting with the others, his eyes blazing with the same fierce desire for conquest. "GOOD!" Volk shouted, his voice booming with finality. "This journey won''t be for the faint-hearted. It won''t be for the weak. We''ll face terrors beyond imagining, fight enemies who''ll show no mercy. "We''ll go to places where every breath will feel like our last. But we''re not running from it." He took a step back, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "We''ll tear through the Orzaroth realm and any others that stand in our way. They will remember our names. And they will fear us." The Orcs'' hearts thundered in their chests, the fire of his words igniting a flame that could not be extinguished. "REST WELL!" Volk''s final command echoed through the hall, fierce and unbreakable. "Tomorrow, we conquer the Orzaroth realm!" Chapter 198 Strange Dream The torches in the vast catacombs cast flickering shadows across the rugged stone walls, creating a dim, eerie ambiance as the Orcs gathered around their Watchief.The stale, ancient air filled their lungs, and every Orc had their eyes on Volk, waiting for his next command. They could see his eyes glint with a feral spark, the weight of untold plans hidden behind a steadfast gaze. The atmosphere buzzed with tension, a mix of curiosity and trepidation, as the Orcs dared to address him with their questions. One of the older Orcs stepped forward, bowing his head in respect. "Watchief, what do you mean by that?" he asked in a low, gravelly voice that rumbled through the quiet room like distant thunder. Volk''s jaw tightened, his muscles twitching as he sized up the crowd, the spark in his eyes hardening to steel. "It means," he said, pausing for emphasis, "that when we land in the Orzaroth realm, nothing is certain. Maybe it''s a realm that doesn''t take kindly to outsiders or it does. But it''s best we assume the worst. "Like we could be facing unknowns¡ªterrain that won''t welcome us, beasts that''d tear through us without a second thought, and¡­ other dangers." Another Orc leaned forward, expression both curious and anxious. "But we''re together, right? As a Horde?" His voice held an edge, his words uncertain. Volk''s expression darkened, his lips pulling into a tight line as he clenched his fists. "Yes. We''re a Horde, always. But this isn''t a simple march into a new world." He let his gaze sweep over the crowd, lingering on each Orc. "Orzaroth¡­ it''s unpredictable. Even the syst¡ªcatacomb doesn''t control where each of us will land. We may touch down near each other¡­ or we may be scattered across realms¡ª" The Orcs shifted uneasily, glancing at each other, whispers rippling through the ranks. Volk saw their worry, their discomfort at the unknown. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The truth was, he didn''t want them to panic. If they knew the full extent of their separation in the new realm, the Horde''s morale could shatter before the battle even began. Enjoy new tales from empire For an Orc, trust in one''s Horde was sacred¡ªa bond forged through battle and shared blood. If they feared for one another, feared that each battle might be fought alone, the confidence he''d so carefully built might falter. No, Volk would keep their fears at bay. There would be no weakness tonight. He squared his shoulders, his voice resonating with firm resolve as he listed the potential dangers they might face. "When we touch down, we can land anywhere. Be prepared. Some of you might find yourselves in a land of endless lava plains, searing your flesh with every step." A low murmur of concern passed through the group. Lava plains¡ªhot, relentless, treacherous ground that could melt through armor. "And some," Volk continued, his voice deep and unyielding, "may be thrust into a freezing wasteland, where the air bites like blades and the ground is a death trap of ice and shadows. "Where the cold seeps into your bones, making every breath feel like your last." Several Orcs shifted uncomfortably, imagining the brutal chill of such a place. The tension grew thicker, their eyes fixed on Volk. "There are seas in Orzaroth that hold creatures with teeth like spears, monsters that''ll pull you under and feast on you alive. Imagine endless water, nothing to stand on, just the icy depths pulling you down." More murmurs spread through the group, eyes darting from Volk to each other, uncertain yet riveted by his words. "And some of you," he said, his voice lowering ominously, "could land in poison swamps, where the air itself is toxic, breathing itself a challenge. The ground seeps with muck, ready to pull down anyone who missteps." The Orcs swallowed, the vivid imagery of each hellish landscape hardening their expressions, steeling them for the dangers that awaited. But Volk wasn''t finished. "Acidic marshlands, where the very earth can burn you alive. Shadowed forests, filled with beasts that blend with the night, their claws sharper than any steel." He paused, his voice even lower, as if speaking directly to their core fears. "Cursed plains, where the air carries the wails of the dead, a place that drains your strength, leaving only your bones." The Orcs listened, hearts pounding, breaths growing shallower. Yet their eyes burned with resolve. "And," Volk added, his voice a solemn growl, "even the chance that we may not land together. That''s the reality of going to unknown lower realms, like this Orzaroth. It''s not just about surviving the elements¡ªit''s about surviving alone." The silence stretched, heavy and charged. The Orcs took a collective breath, each of them weighed down by the thought of fighting in isolation. But then, as if by unspoken agreement, they each nodded, one by one, their gazes hard and unwavering. They would stand by Volk''s side, no matter what lay ahead. They would prove their worth as Orcs. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Satisfied, Volk nodded back, approving of their resolve. The Orcs dispersed, some murmuring among themselves about the dangers Volk had described, others choosing to rest, preparing themselves for the journey ahead. They lay down, each mind filled with the promise of Orzaroth, a realm where survival was a relentless, endless battle. Volk found himself a place apart from the others, his mind heavy with thoughts as he lay back, staring up at the stone ceiling. It was rare for him to feel the weight of his own words, to be burdened by the uncertainty of a mission. Yet tonight, he could feel it¡ªthe unspoken tension, the knowledge that come tomorrow, they would face the unknown. Soon, his heavy eyes closed, and sleep claimed him. In the depths of his slumber, images flickered through his mind, a chaotic blend of memories and sensations. He was not in Orzaroth; he was somewhere else entirely. Earth. Volk''s brow furrowed in his sleep, his body tensing as scenes from his past played out, echoing with voices from a time long gone. Cold, sterile rooms, walls of white and gray, a hum of electric lights above. He could see them¡ªthe scientists that had experimented on him, the people who had brought him to this strange, magical world. Their faces were obscured, but he recognized their voices, clinical and detached. "Look at his body¡ªit''s twitching," one of them said, his voice filled with an unnerving mix of curiosity and calculation. "Do you think the experiment is working?" A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, followed by the shuffling of feet and the clinking of metal instruments. They stood around a cold steel table, papers scattered across it, each one marked with strange, intricate formulas. "Should we test it?" another voice asked, hesitant yet filled with intrigue. "We can''t. We don''t have the funding for a full-scale test. Not yet." There was a sigh, a pause, filled with frustration. "But we can''t just leave it. We''ve come so far¡­" "But the risk," one voice argued, tense. "If something goes wrong, if it fails, we''re liable for more than just a failed experiment. There''s no budget for damages." Silence hung in the air as they debated, the tension thick and almost palpable. One of them reached out, fingers grazing the instruments on the table. "We need to know if it''s viable. The board won''t approve another dime without results." One scientist, a woman with a clipped, precise tone, folded her arms, her gaze sharp and unyielding. "We could perform a minor test¡ªjust enough to see if he responds." "Agreed," said another, almost reluctantly. "But nothing invasive. Not until we''re certain." The argument continued, their voices merging into a cacophony, each word laced with careful, clinical detachment, as if Volk was a mere specimen on a tray. He could feel it¡ªthe cold bite of metal restraints, the prick of needles as they prepared to test his limits, to push him further. In his mind, they loomed over him, masked faces peering down, surgical tools gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. The glint of metal was a promise, a threat, as they circled him like predators ready to pounce. And then, suddenly, the image shifted, the lab fading, dissolving into the darkness of the catacombs. His brow relaxed, his body settled, and he opened his eyes. Volk blinked, the shadows of the past fading from his mind as he took in the quiet scene around him. The warrior Orcs lay sprawled across the floor, resting soundly, their breaths deep and even. He frowned, mumbling to himself as he studied their still forms, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him. "Strange¡­" he muttered under his breath, casting a final glance at his slumbering Horde. Then, settling back against the cold stone, he let sleep claim him once more, the weight of tomorrow''s battles fading into the quiet of the night. Chapter 199 Disturbance In the dark, silent cavern, Volk lay sprawled against the stone floor, his heavy form motionless in slumber.The air was dense, the atmosphere almost suffocating as if the entire room held its breath. A faint tremor began to ripple through the floor, barely noticeable at first, like the distant hum of an approaching storm. It quivered beneath Volk''s thick hide, a subtle vibration that would barely have stirred a mouse, let alone the formidable Watchief. But the tremor didn''t stop there. It grew steadily stronger, pulsing like the beat of a monstrous heart, sending soft waves up his spine, yet Volk barely shifted. His breathing remained deep and steady, his face buried into the crook of his arm. The tremor became a low, rumbling sound, almost like the rumble of an earthquake rolling underfoot, growing and growing until it became impossible to ignore. Outside the circle of his slumber, the Orcs stirred, eyes darting around in confusion. Some staggered to their feet, clutching their weapons and looking for a source of the disturbance. Another tremor shook the floor, this one strong enough to rattle the stone walls. One of the Orcs, his eyes wide, stared at his chief''s unmoving form and barked, Stay tuned to empire "What''s going on?! We need to wake the Watchief! If there''s danger, he needs to know!" But Volk merely shifted, turning his face to the other side as if sinking deeper into his dreams. He gave a slight snort, completely oblivious to the rising chaos around him. Another Orc, a stout warrior with a scar slicing through one eye, shoved forward and looked at Volk''s massive form lying there, untouched by the disturbance. "Someone! Get him up already!" he shouted, frustration creasing his brows. He stepped forward, pounding a fist against Volk''s arm. Nothing. Volk''s eyelids didn''t even flicker. He was like a boulder, impervious and unyielding. The scarred Orc grumbled under his breath, "By the gods, he''s really out this time. All right¡ªlet''s try harder!" He gestured to two more Orcs nearby, and the three of them positioned themselves on either side of the sleeping Watchief, each taking aim as they prepared to jostle him awake. One of them raised a club high above his head and brought it down with a solid thwack! against Volk''s shoulder. The sound echoed through the cavern, the club vibrating from the force, yet Volk merely mumbled and turned, scratching his head as though brushing away an insect. "Is this some kind of spell?" another Orc muttered, worry etching into his voice as he glanced between Volk and the others. "He''s sleeping like a rock!" "More like a mountain!" a voice hissed from the back, nervousness lacing each word. "A mountain that won''t budge!" More Orcs gathered around, exchanging anxious glances, unsure of what to do. Some grabbed loose stones from the ground, muttering under their breaths, and began to hurl them at their Watchief. Thunk! Clink! Stones clattered off Volk''s back, rolling uselessly to the side. An Orc with a deep, growling voice raised his arms, trying to calm the increasingly panicked Horde. "Enough! We need something bigger." He eyed a massive chunk of stone nearby, his expression a mix of determination and desperation. "Bring that over here. If this doesn''t work, nothing will!" Two Orcs grunted, heaving the stone with all their might until they positioned it above Volk. With a shared nod, they let it fall, sending it crashing onto Volk''s side with a resounding BOOM! The Watchief merely grumbled, his brow furrowing, his lips parting to release a low, half-mumbled growl. "Hngh¡­ let me sleep¡­" he muttered, scratching at his shoulder, his voice thick with drowsiness. His hand fell back to his side, and, as though nothing had happened, he drifted deeper into slumber. The Orcs surrounding him groaned, some shaking their heads in disbelief, while others clutched at their weapons, the tremors beneath them growing fiercer with each passing second. "This is ridiculous!" an Orc cried, exasperation clear in his tone. "We''ve been throwing everything we can find at him, and he''s not even stirring! What is it going to take to wake this beast?" A young, wiry Orc looked nervously at the shaking ground beneath them, his voice barely more than a whisper. "If the Watchief doesn''t wake up soon, we''ll be buried alive! The walls are gonna crumble!" An elder Orc, his voice gravelly and worn with age, scowled and crossed his arms. "Maybe he''s enchanted. Some kind of spell put on him, or worse¡ªsomething''s bound him here." He leaned down close to Volk''s ear and shouted with all his might, "WAKE UP, YOU GREAT LUMP OF ROCK!" Volk snorted, but his eyes remained closed. His breathing was steady, deep, utterly unphased by the mounting danger. "I''m telling you, it''s useless," another Orc muttered, shaking his head in defeat. "We''ve hit him with everything we''ve got. He''s like a boulder¡ªnothing''s going to stir him." Yet, even as despair began to settle over the Horde, they couldn''t abandon their leader. One by one, they lined up, each taking their turn to strike, shove, yell, anything they could think of, but it was no use. Volk was trapped in his sleep, far from the world of their cries and pleas. Meanwhile, the tremors continued, louder now, filling the air with an ominous rumble. Stone dust trickled from above, cracks spider-webbing across the ceiling. "Watchief!" a young Orc screamed, voice trembling as he stared wide-eyed at the cracking walls. "The ceiling''s coming down! Please! We need you!" But Volk remained still, utterly unfazed, his breathing steady, locked in the world of his dreams. The Orcs could do nothing but watch, torn between despair and loyalty. They were losing hope¡ªuntil one Orc, his voice filled with a last, desperate plea, shouted into the growing chaos: "Orzarth take me if I give up now! WATCHIEF, IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, WE NEED YOU! WAKE UP, NOW!" And with that, something shifted in Volk''s dreams. He stirred, just barely, his brow twitching, a faint frown settling across his face. The voices reached him, echoing in his mind like distant thunder. Somewhere, through the haze of sleep, he could hear them¡ªfaint, frantic, filled with worry and fear. The distant echoes grew sharper, louder, until they swelled in his mind, voices clashing, pounding at the edges of his consciousness. "Wake up¡­ Watchief¡­ danger¡­ we need you¡­" He felt a jolt, a sudden flash of discomfort like the sharp edge of a blade scraping against stone. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Then came a harder sensation, almost like the crash of a hammer against his side, as if someone had struck him full force. Volk frowned, scratching absently at his head as he turned over, sinking once more into the comforting darkness of sleep. The Orcs, meanwhile, exchanged hopeless glances, realizing they''d tried everything. As a final act of desperation, they began to chant, their voices rising together as they cried out, "WAKE UP, VOLK! WAKE UP, WATCHIEF!" Volk shifted, the chant pricking at his mind, pulling him slowly from the clutches of his deep slumber. It was as if he could feel their panic, their fear and loyalty, seeping into his consciousness. The pounding grew louder, the voices piercing through, until finally, with a groggy, annoyed growl, Volk''s eyes opened a sliver, blearily taking in the anxious faces surrounding him. He blinked slowly, his vision clearing as the world came into focus, and his mouth twisted into a half-snarl, half-yawn. "What¡­ what''s all this racket?" he muttered, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep. He looked around, his brows knitting together in confusion at the sight of his Horde, their expressions a strange mix of relief and anxiety. "Watchief!" one of them cried, stepping forward. "You''re awake!" "Finally!" another muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. "We''ve been trying to wake you for ages!" Volk''s gaze hardened, taking in the scene before him. "What¡­ what''s going on?" he asked, his voice growing more alert as he noted the worry etched into each Orc''s face. His muscles tensed, his senses sharpening. "And why do you all look like you''ve seen a ghost?" The Orcs shared a look, some sighing in relief, others smirking at their Watchief''s familiar scowl. "Long story, Watchief," one of them said, "but trust us¡ªyou''re lucky we didn''t just leave you to snore away." Volk growled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. "Lucky? Hmph. I''d say it''s you who''s lucky¡­ I didn''t dream of taking my axe to the lot of you." The Orcs laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the cavern, the tension breaking as their Watchief''s familiar strength filled the room once more. Chapter 200 Swallowed The air in the cavern had become thick with dust and tension, the walls pulsing with a strange, steady hum that seemed to build with each second.Volk''s brow furrowed as he looked around at the anxious faces of his Orcs, his voice echoing in the vast space. "What''s the problem, Horde?" he barked, irritation flashing in his eyes. His voice came out low and gravelly, sharp enough to cut through the din of muttered voices and creaking stone. An Orc stepped forward, the tremor of fear visible in his gaze as he gestured around them. "Watchief¡­ the cave¡­ it''s crumbling." "Crumbling?" Volk''s brows knitted together. He cast a sweeping glance around him, his gaze following the jagged cracks spider-webbing along the walls, winding their way like veins of some massive, ancient creature coming to life. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble more insistently, as though something monstrous lay just below, struggling to break free. Before he could fully take in the sight, a flickering system screen blinked to life in his line of vision, glowing ominously against the dim light of the cavern. Ding! | TIME ESTIMATE: 30 SECONDS TO THE ORZAROTH REALM! | THE HOST MUST PREPARE¡­ BECAUSE THE PROCESS WOULDN''T BE PAINLESS EVEN IF THE HOST AND THE HORDE WERE ORCS!" Volk''s jaw clenched, the words a stark reminder of the fate looming over them. "Alright!" Stay updated through empire He snapped his head back to his Horde, eyes blazing with a fierce determination. "Brace yourselves because we are now on our way!," he commanded, his voice hard and unyielding. "We''re heading down to the Orzaroth realm. The place where they''ve sent our wives, our partners¡ªour symbiotic halves." His voice was like iron, ringing out clear and firm. "We must find them. Unite. Complete the Horde! Dominate the realm. Invade the other lower realm and finally go back to the higher realm for our payback against these Warlocks and Dark elves!!" The Orcs nodded, some swallowing nervously, others gripping their weapons tighter as if clinging to the only lifeline left in this collapsing world. They had come here through countless battles, fought side by side, bled together. They could feel the weight of Volk''s words, and the mission was clear: survival, unification, completion. But even as resolve hardened in their chests, the ground shuddered violently beneath their feet, the tremors intensifying, and a low, guttural groan echoed through the cavern. A deep crack split across the ground right before Volk''s eyes, spreading out like a web of dark lines ready to engulf them whole. He watched as stones began to drop from the ceiling in a slow, relentless rhythm, a precursor to the inevitable collapse. CRACK! The ground lurched, and another tremor hit, more violent than the last. The entire cavern seemed to convulse, a giant beast thrashing against its own restraints. The noise was deafening, like the wailing of some ancient spirit coming to claim them. KABAARRRGHH! KABAAAARRGH! KABAAAARRGH!! The Catacomb itself felt almost alive, as though it were drawing a long, agonized breath, preparing for a final release. Suddenly, the ceiling high above began to split, small pieces falling first, each landing with a crunch that echoed off the stone walls. Cracks raced down the walls, intertwining and crossing, widening like the mouth of a great, unseen beast poised to swallow them whole. "WATCHIEF!" one of the Orcs screamed, voice raw and desperate as he clutched his head. "THE GROUND¡ªIT''S¡ªIT''S¡ª!" The earth below them began to crumble, the once-solid stone transforming into a treacherous, shifting floor. The cavern shuddered, sending Orcs stumbling, desperately clawing for footing as the ground gave way beneath them. Some teetered on the edge, wide-eyed and terrified, clutching at the earth as if it would hold them back from the yawning abyss that had begun to form. "We''re all going to be swallowed!" one of the younger Orcs cried, his voice a frantic wail as he scrambled backward, watching in horror as the floor broke apart in jagged chunks. "Stand your ground! Don''t panic!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the panic like a blade. He stood rooted, his own feet slipping as the ground buckled beneath him, yet his stance was defiant, unyielding. But even his voice couldn''t fully silence the rising wave of dread that gripped the Horde as the very earth under them trembled with relentless fury. The Catacomb groaned again, a sound so deep it vibrated through their bones, and the cracks expanded, large pieces of stone dropping away, leaving yawning chasms that reached deep into the darkness below. Then, without warning, the ground fell away under the feet of one of the Orcs near Volk. He let out a piercing scream, AAAARRGHHH! hands grasping desperately at the edge as his feet dangled over the void. Another Orc tried to grab him, but the stone crumbled between his fingers, slipping through like sand. The Orc fell, his scream echoing into the darkness until it was swallowed by silence. The rest of the Horde watched, their faces twisted in horror, as their brother disappeared into the chasm, leaving nothing but the chilling memory of his final, desperate cry. The fear spread like wildfire, and one by one, they all began to scream, voices mingling into a frantic cacophony. "No¡ªno! This isn''t happening!" one Orc shouted, his eyes wide with terror, hands shaking as he gripped his weapon like it could somehow save him from the collapsing earth. "Hold fast!" another yelled, though his voice trembled with barely contained fear. "Watchief!" another Orc screamed, his voice breaking, "The ground¡ªit''s swallowing us! What do we do?" But Volk barely heard them. His gaze was locked forward, his jaw set, even as the ground fractured further beneath him, the inevitable descent bearing down on them. Yet, despite it all, his eyes gleamed with an indomitable spirit. He inhaled deeply, pulling in the chaos around him, the screams, the fear, the tension¡ªhe could feel it all, pounding in his chest. He threw his head back, his voice rising over the din, raw and filled with a primal ferocity. "LOK''TAAAAAR¡­ OGAAAAAAR!" The battle cry reverberated through the cavern, piercing the panicked cries of his Horde. They joined in, their voices a chorus of rage and defiance as they rallied together, fists clenched, weapons raised, their screams mingling into a single, bloodthirsty roar. "LOK''TAAAAAR¡­ OGAAAAAAR!" The Catacomb groaned, its final breath, as the ground split wide open, swallowing them whole one by one. The Orcs fell, each plummeting into the darkness, their cries fading as they were pulled into the abyss. Volk was the last to fall, the ground giving way beneath him as he felt the rush of air pulling him down. His eyes flared with determination, his mouth still open in that battle cry as he plunged into the darkness. His mind sharpened, each sense heightened as he felt himself hurtling toward the unknown. They were descending into the Orzaroth, thrown into the maw of the next realm with no promise of return. They would be scattered, separated, broken¡ªbut Volk knew, as his scream echoed through the darkness, that they would find each other again. This wasn''t the end. It was only the beginning. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Together, or apart, they would conquer. Chapter 201 Awakened Dark elf From beneath the barren, twisted soil of the Orzaroth realm, a slender, jet-black hand clawed its way through the ground, talons scraping against loose stone with a sharp scrrrrk.The hand rose higher, soon revealing a forearm cloaked in a midnight shimmer, and then a shoulder, as an entire figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the earth. She was tall, slender yet powerful, her silhouette both elegant and predatory. This was Urza''lin, the Sorceress of the Void and warrior of the Dark Elves from the upper realm, now exiled to the depths of Orzaroth. As she rose to her full height, Urza''lin stood still, catching her breath, though her face twisted into an expression of disdain. Her dark, piercing eyes narrowed as she muttered, voice dripping with resentment. "That damned... Orc." Her hand clenched, talons digging into her palm as she spoke aloud, her words thick with venom. "Almost bested me¡­ me, Urza''lin! To think that savage beast had the audacity¡ªno, the strength¡ªto challenge my might." The memories of her battle in that cursed catacomb flickered in her mind like jagged shards of broken glass. She saw Volk, his twisted, monstrous Horde at his back, tearing through her defenses with brutal force. His sneering face haunted her, and she spat in disgust. "He nearly killed me, that¡­ beast. How? An Orc¡ªno, an Ogre-Orc hybrid of some sort were usually normal but that Orc, something unnatural, he has something unnatural, twisted." Urza''lin''s eyes darkened as she recalled the reason she had even found herself weakened in the first place. It had been an unfortunate turn of events¡ªshe had been in the midst of her preparations to storm the warlocks'' stronghold, her own strength reaching a pinnacle when she first encountered Volk. But something went wrong¡ªno, someone interfered. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching. She would never forget that fateful ambush from the upper realm''s Hunters, those detestable, so-called "peacekeepers." It was they who had wounded her, driving her to a point of desperation and then being sent on a mission to subdue Orcs because it would be easy¡­ "Easy my ass," she cursed. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Now, that ease had forced her retreat into the lower realms. Urza''lin tone grew bitter, resentful. "Forced me down here, to these disgusting, savage lands. Stripped of my status, of all my magic¡­ of my control." The memory of her power, now diminished and scattered, gnawed at her pride. She had come to the lower realms with a mission¡ªto enslave and unite the savage Orcs under her banner, to rally them in an unstoppable army against the warlocks who had opposed her. She had planned to use the Orcs'' brute strength to overwhelm the magic of those damnable warlocks, to watch them crumble under her forces. And yet¡­ here she was, trapped and vulnerable. Urza''lin clenched her fists, feeling the dirt crumble between her fingers as her anger simmered. "This was not the way it was meant to go," she muttered, her voice cold and vengeful. "I should have enslaved those brutes and wiped out every warlock in my way. But instead, I was thrown into battle unprepared, weakened, humiliated. And that thing¡ª" She spat, thinking of Volk''s snarling face once more. "¡ªhad the audacity to stand against me." Her gaze hardened, determination burning anew in her eyes. She would not let this setback defeat her. No, she would rise from this pit, stronger than ever. She knew the way back to the upper realms¡ªalbeit difficult, the path was not impossible. But she needed power to forge it. She needed strength, an army, and absolute control. "First," Urza''lin muttered to herself, the bitterness in her voice replaced with a dark, hungry ambition. "I must gather an army." Her gaze flickered with malice as she envisioned her next steps. "Find those Elves lurking in the shadows¡­ twist them to my will. Break every Orc Ogre that comes my way." She chuckled coldly, the sound echoing in the empty silence. "By using their elven wives or symbiotic mates here¡­ well, they''ll make perfect leverage." A cruel smile tugged at her lips as her plan unfurled in her mind, taking on a twisted clarity. "Yes¡­ I''ll use them against their mates. Make them watch as their kin fall in line beneath my power, their hearts torn and broken, helpless to do anything but serve." Explore hidden tales at empire Urza''lin''s eyes gleamed with malevolent satisfaction. The Orcs were a prideful, stubborn species, their wills strong, but that only made it all the more exhilarating. She would grind down that pride, one by one, until they bowed at her feet. "I''ll have them all in chains, groveling before me¡­ or dead. Or worse, I''ll force them to male children and then sacrifice those disgusting mutts!" With each word, her vision became clearer, each step of her plan meticulously crafted. "Yes, yes, yes!" She muutered. "I''ll build my strength here, find out exactly what realm I''ve landed in¡­ Orzaroth, or whatever they call it. Find every opportunity, every ally or slave I can exploit." She narrowed her eyes, surveying the barren landscape, taking in the harsh, twisted land around her. "I''ll tear through it, bend it to my will. Then, when I''ve gathered enough strength, enough bodies in my horde, I''ll return. And I''ll wipe those warlocks from existence. They won''t stand a chance." She paused, savoring the satisfaction that came with the thought. She could almost see it now: the broken forms of her enemies, the elves and Orcs alike, begging for mercy they would never receive. But first¡­ the immediate task at hand. Her eyes roamed the desolate landscape, calculating and cold. She needed to understand where she was, to scout this unknown realm. "If there are Elves," she said aloud, voice dripping with scorn, "I will find them. And I''ll crush any resistance they have to offer." Her voice softened, but the threat hung heavy in the air. "This realm¡­ it''s nothing but my stepping stone. Every creature here will bow before me." Taking one final, calming breath, Urza''lin steeled herself, mentally preparing for the long journey ahead. But as she stared into the uncharted depths of Orzaroth, her mind spun with schemes, dark fantasies of conquest and revenge. She would turn this realm upside down. And when she had what she needed, when the warlocks lay in ruin and her Hunters lay in graves, her vengeance would be complete. Not long, Urza''lin stalked into the dark forest, her eyes narrowed, body tense as she slipped between twisted trees and thick, choking vines. The forest was alive with the faint, unsettling sounds of nocturnal creatures prowling unseen¡ªsnapping branches, the rustle of leaves, the occasional eerie whisper of wings slicing through the damp night air. Yet despite her keen hearing and sharpened instincts, she couldn''t pin down a single creature. They were there, lurking just out of reach, but every time she turned, every time she poised herself to strike, there was nothing. Only the stillness of the shadowy trees. Swish¡ªa branch moved in the corner of her eye. Urza''lin spun around, teeth bared, only to find empty air. She exhaled sharply, fists tightening. "These blasted lower-realm pests," she muttered, voice laced with contempt. She could feel them¡ªjust out of sight, slipping through the shadows, taunting her. There was movement all around her, too swift and subtle for her to catch hold of. Again, she whirled, her gaze sweeping the darkness, searching. Nothing but shadows. Again and again, the faintest hint of movement teased her vision¡ªshapes darting in the periphery of her sight, slithering through the blackness. She bared her fangs, a curse hissing between them. "Cowardly creatures." She couldn''t afford to waste her magic on mere scouting; she needed to preserve every precious drop she had left. Her reserves had already been dangerously depleted during her last battle in the catacomb, and the energy she''d used to cast that final spell to banish the damned Elves alongside her had left her nearly drained. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her dagger, knuckles white. The forest was mocking her, it seemed. Every rustle of leaves, every crack of a twig felt like a twisted joke at her expense. Her instincts screamed at her to attack, to lash out, to remind this cursed forest that she was no common prey. But she couldn''t. Not yet. Not until she understood what she was dealing with. A whispering rustle to her left. She spun, her vision sharp, narrowed, focusing on the flicker of movement¡ªbut there was only darkness. It was maddening. These creatures, whatever they were, were as elusive as shadows themselves. Her patience wore thin, and she growled, her voice a low snarl. "I will find you, vermin. And when I do, I will rip you apart, piece by piece." She moved cautiously, every step precise, silent. But again, as soon as she took another step, something darted at the edge of her vision. She cursed, catching only the briefest flash of silver glinting in the moonlight before it vanished. What in the void was this place hiding? She was no stranger to the unknown, but this was different. The creatures in this realm, whatever they were, had a skill that disturbed her¡ªevading her senses, slipping just beyond her grasp. Her frustration grew with each passing second. She had been a predator in countless realms, bending beasts and men alike to her will. This place, however, seemed to defy her power. Here, she felt almost¡­ vulnerable. The thought clawed at her pride, a bitter reminder of her weakened state. She hated it, loathed every second of this indignity. But she couldn''t afford to lose herself to fury. She had to be cautious. These creatures, though lower-realm spawn, could pose a danger in her current state. A movement, closer this time, quick and sharp. Her senses flared, her body ready to strike¡ªyet once more, the moment passed, and there was nothing. "Damn you!" she spat, the words laced with venom. "Hiding in shadows like rats¡­ I will find you. I will skin every last one of you if I must." Her eyes burned as she searched, breath steady but laced with irritation. She knew she couldn''t afford to waste more energy. The spells she''d woven to banish the Elves alongside herself had drained her deeply, drawing from reserves she couldn''t replenish in this cursed realm. Even her most basic magic felt heavy, sluggish. Here, the air was thick, almost hostile, leeching at her power. She was no fool. She would save her strength. She could afford no more mistakes. Urza''lin''s senses remained sharp, attuned to the slightest hint of movement, every flicker of shadow. She crept forward, her feet soundless on the soft earth, scanning her surroundings. Every brush of wind, every rustle of leaves, every whisper of unseen creatures prickled against her skin. Yet each time she prepared herself to strike, they vanished, slipping through her grasp like smoke. Her frustration grew, simmering beneath her calm, deliberate movements. Minutes dragged by, each heartbeat thudding in her ears. The sense of being watched¡ªstalked¡ªgnawed at her. She knew she was not alone, knew she was not the only predator in these woods. But her vision, her senses betrayed her. Her magic was all but spent, and the creatures, whatever they were, remained elusive. She stopped, her chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. Silence blanketed the forest, and she stood, unmoving, her gaze sweeping over the twisted trees and darkened foliage. The creatures had stopped. For now. But she knew they would return, lurking, taunting her. Her fingers itched to tear into something solid, to remind this realm that she was no easy prey. And then, without warning, she felt it¡ªa shift, a tremor. Her entire body stilled, her senses sharpened to a razor''s edge. The air grew colder, heavier, pressing down on her like an invisible weight. She looked up, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the inky sky above. Chapter 202 Raining Meteors Across the vast, untamed landscapes of the Orzaroth Realm, creatures of myth and magic stirred in their ancient, primal rhythms.Each realm, as diverse as the lives it held, played host to creatures of tremendous power and otherworldly splendor. And tonight, as shadows lengthened and night crept across the land, they all lifted their heads to the sky, to a sight that would shatter the tranquility of their existence. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. From the heavens, a fiery streak appeared¡ªa blazing, furious meteor tearing through the cosmos with an energy that could only foretell calamity. --- In the heart of the Whispering Mire, a swamp that stretched endlessly under a canopy of twisted, gnarled trees, the air was thick and dense with the scent of damp earth and decaying foliage. The murky waters bubbled as strange, luminous insects flitted in the darkness, their bodies pulsing with pale blue light. Nestled amid a bed of rotting leaves was the giant Murkwyrm¡ªa massive serpent covered in scales like polished obsidian, each reflecting the eerie light around it. It rested, coiled and watchful, as tiny tendrils of fog swirled around its form. Suddenly, the ground trembled, and the creature raised its head, forked tongue flicking in the air. A brilliant flash of light pierced through the dense canopy above, followed by a distant, roaring sound that seemed to shake the very trees. The Murkwyrm''s golden eyes narrowed, its long body uncoiling slowly as it fixed its gaze on the blazing comet descending toward the swamp. As it neared, the light illuminated the creature''s scales, casting strange shadows that danced along the water''s surface. With a hissing screech, the Murkwyrm dove into the swamp, seeking cover as the meteor struck the edge of the mire. A shockwave of energy tore through the swamp, sending waves splashing against trees and lifting clouds of mist in all directions. The serpent watched from its hiding place as the impact sent the swamp into turmoil, the once-still waters now churning with a terrible intensity. --- In the Emberveil Peaks, high in the jagged, fiery mountains, a colossal wyvern with scales like molten rock basked on a ledge near a smoldering volcanic vent. This was Magmathra, the Fireheart Wyvern, feared by all who dared approach her territory. Her wings, tattered from centuries of combat, fanned out as she absorbed the heat from the volcanic rocks. Her eyes, two pits of simmering embers, scanned the star-streaked sky above her domain. Suddenly, she saw it¡ªa flash of bright, otherworldly light that outshone even the stars. The meteor''s descent burned in her eyes, a trail of fire and smoke that tore across the night. With a deafening roar, Magmathra rose, her wings flaring out as she let out a warning scream, sensing the foreign energy as it approached. The mountain shook beneath her feet as the comet struck a nearby ridge, sending a river of molten rock cascading down into the valleys below. Magmathra watched as the lava flow spread, her roar mingling with the rumbling earth, a declaration that this invasion of her domain would not go unanswered. Her eyes fixed on the smoking crater, and with another thunderous shriek, she dove toward it, leaving the mountain''s safety to face this mysterious intruder. --- Far to the east, in the Vale of Glimmering Fens, the land was alive with bioluminescent flora and crystals that pulsed with radiant hues. Flocks of ethereal, transparent birds swooped low over the shimmering pools, their feathers leaving trails of light in their wake. Amidst this magical landscape, a group of sylphs¡ªdelicate, winged spirits of the fens¡ªdanced over the waters, their laughter like the ringing of tiny bells. They twirled in a beautiful, synchronized dance, oblivious to the dark sky above. But as the meteor tore through the heavens, a sudden flash broke the rhythm of their movements, and they stopped, their laughter stilled. They looked up, wide-eyed, as the meteor''s fiery tail reflected in the pools below. The sylphs whispered among themselves, voices trembling with fear and awe as the fiery trail descended. When the comet struck, its light burst forth, casting long shadows and causing the crystals around them to hum with energy. The impact rippled through the fens, sending shockwaves that distorted the pools and made the light-drenched flora sway as if in a fierce storm. The sylphs clutched one another, trembling as the ground beneath them vibrated. Their once-peaceful vale was transformed, a scene of beauty thrown into chaos by the force of the strange, fiery visitor. --- Deep within the Thornhollow Forest, the trees grew so dense and tall that only a thin layer of twilight ever reached the forest floor. Towering beasts called Shadestalkers, great creatures with long, spiny limbs and bodies camouflaged to blend with the shadows, prowled here. These creatures, with eyes that glowed faintly in the dark, moved silently through the underbrush, hunting their prey. One such beast, larger and older than the others, paused, raising its head to sniff the air. The scent of something alien, something potent and otherworldly, had reached its senses. Suddenly, the sky above flared with blinding light. The meteor''s tail tore through the branches, cutting a jagged path of fire that momentarily illuminated the entire forest. The Shadestalker reared up on its hind legs, growling in confusion and anger as the ground shook beneath it. Enjoy exclusive content from empire Branches cracked, leaves fell like rain, and the forest shuddered with the impact. When the comet struck, it hit with such force that the ground split open, sending a wave of raw energy rippling through the trees. The Shadestalker howled, its usually silent form trembling as the shockwaves passed, leaving it dazed and uncertain in its once-familiar hunting grounds. --- In the Northern Icelands, where the freezing winds howled and ice stretched endlessly beneath a moonless sky, the Frostborn¡ªa towering creature forged from the essence of ice itself¡ªslumbered in its glacial prison. Its crystalline form glowed faintly with a cold blue light, eyes shut, body encased in a thick layer of ancient frost. The Frostborn''s domain was a place of desolation, of eternal winter, where nothing dared disturb the silence. But tonight, something shattered that stillness. A sudden warmth cut through the icy air, the sensation foreign and unsettling. The Frostborn stirred as a brilliant flash of fire cut across the horizon. It opened its eyes, ancient and filled with cold wisdom, staring out as the meteor drew nearer. It could feel the heat, a terrible force that clashed with its own icy essence. As the comet struck, the ground split open, cracks racing across the glacier and sending up geysers of steam as ice met fire. The Frostborn roared, the sound low and rumbling, a sound that echoed for miles across the frozen wasteland. Steam hissed around it as it rose from its prison, no longer content to lie dormant while such a powerful force invaded its territory. --- One by one, across the Orzaroth Realm, powerful beings stirred as the meteor''s impact echoed throughout the land. Each creature, each landscape, felt the tremors of the comet''s arrival, a shockwave that shattered the natural balance and introduced something alien, something powerful. The realm had been peaceful, but the comet''s arrival shattered that tranquility, sparking fear, fury, and curiosity in the hearts of its inhabitants. And as the dust settled, as the shockwaves faded, they didn''t know that a new era would begin to dawn over Orzaroth¡ªone where these ancient, powerful beings would either face this threat or be consumed by it. Chapter 203 Volk Descends Volk plummeted down, his body stretched and twisted in the strange kaleidoscope of colors and shapes around him.A chaotic blur of shimmering light and unfathomable darkness surrounded him. The sensation of weightlessness turned to an all-consuming, pulling force that yanked at him from every direction, like he was being unspooled through space itself. His vision warped, narrowing to a pinpoint before expanding again, colors flashing and swirling in dizzying patterns. His ears rang with a high-pitched whine that rose to a fever pitch, drowning out all thought and reason. WHOOOOOOMPH! Another tug pulled at him, harder than before, a pull so intense it felt like his very bones might dislocate. His skin burned, the force tearing at him as though it meant to scatter him across this strange void. "Raaaaaagh!" He snarled, but his voice vanished into the endless maw around him, lost in the terrible, roaring silence. His thoughts began to blur, slipping, sliding¡ªNo! He shook his head furiously, clenching his fists. He wasn''t going to let this damned force swallow him whole. He was Volk, Warchief of his horde, bound for Orzaroth with a purpose. Find your next read at empire This would not be the end of him! With a savage growl, Volk swung his fist directly at his own jaw. CRACK! The impact echoed inside his head, pain slicing through the fog as his teeth clashed, the sting forcing him back into focus. His jaw throbbed, but he held onto that sharp, biting pain, clenching his fists tighter. Another surge of force tugged at him, yanking harder, trying to drown him in the storm of spinning colors. No¡­! Stay awake! He jabbed his fingers into his arm, digging his nails into the flesh until they nearly pierced skin. The pain seared through him, bringing a brief, blessed clarity. But then, like a wave rising from the deep, the pull intensified again, stronger than ever. His head swam, his vision blurring as if he were looking at the world through fractured glass. With a wild, desperate snarl, Volk punched himself square in the chest, BOOM! His ribs jolted with the impact, and his heart skipped a beat, but it was enough to sharpen his mind for another agonizing moment. "Come on, you bloody brute, stay awake!" he grunted, fighting the weight that pulled at his limbs. Another heaving yank twisted his body, and he felt his senses slipping again, like trying to grab smoke with bare hands. BITE! He clenched down hard on his tongue, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth. The pain lashed through him, fiery and raw, forcing his eyes open against the dizzying vortex of light. He could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribs, faster, harder, each thud a fight against the pull threatening to consume him. "Hrrrrgh!" He hammered his fists into his own shoulders, each blow sending bolts of pain through his body as he battled to keep his senses intact. However, the force¡ªoh, that relentless, merciless force¡ªwas like a monstrous hand, reaching deeper with each tug, prying apart his thoughts, scattering his focus into the maelstrom. The grip tightened, and his body felt heavy, his arms like weights. But Volk wasn''t finished yet. His mind was screaming, his instincts roaring, "Do whatever it takes, Volk, don''t let it win!" He clawed his face, scratching along his cheek, the sharp sting lancing through the haze. He forced his eyes to stay open, even as they felt like they were going to pop out of his skull. His breaths came in short, choked gasps as he fought to keep from slipping into the void, every second another battle, another desperate attempt to stay conscious. The pull grew stronger, dragging him down, faster and faster. His limbs felt like lead, his breaths shallow, each one a struggle. His mind blurred, consciousness slipping further and further from his grasp, a faint sliver of light in the growing darkness. His hand jerked up to strike himself again, but the energy wasn''t there. No...! Not yet! With one last, exhausted effort, Volk tried to clench his fists, but his fingers twitched uselessly, his strength drained, his mind a fog. The tugging force finally tore through him, relentless, devouring. His vision darkened, a cold numbness swallowing him. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, his mind drifting, his thoughts fading like whispers in the night. ¡­ Beneath the thick canopy of towering trees, two women ran frantically, their feet bare, skimming across the moss-covered forest floor. The moonlight filtered in patches through the leaves, casting an eerie glow on their deep brown skin, slick with sweat and dirt, blending almost seamlessly into the shadows. Their expressions were painted with pure terror, breaths coming in short, panicked bursts as they glanced over their shoulders, eyes wide with dread. The taller of the two, her long, dark hair tangled and wild, looked at her companion with frantic eyes. "D-Do you think we can hide up ahead?" she whispered, her voice trembling as her gaze darted through the dense trees. The other woman, shorter but muscular with sharp, fierce eyes, shook her head. "I... I don''t know!" she replied, her voice barely a whisper, though every syllable seemed to echo in the dense silence. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure it would give them away. She could feel the eyes of the forest on her, every shadow twisted into a lurking figure. "We need to be smarter," the taller woman murmured, gripping her friend''s arm, a trace of desperation in her touch. "Maybe if we split up, he won''t be able to follow both of us!" But even as she spoke, her voice faltered, uncertainty clouding her expression. "No, we can''t!" the shorter one hissed back, her dark eyes flicking around wildly. "We''ll be weaker alone. And you''ve seen what he does to those he finds alone¡­" She trailed off, and the horror in her eyes told a story of its own. "But where do we go?" the first woman whispered, swallowing hard, her hands shaking as she wrung them together. Her gaze shifted to the left, then the right, searching desperately for a way out. "If we keep running, we''ll exhaust ourselves before he even catches up." The second woman sucked in a deep breath, glancing up at the trees around them. "Maybe... maybe we can climb, find a spot up high?" She looked up into the dense tangle of branches overhead. "If we''re high enough, maybe he won''t see us. We just have to be quiet." Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "No," the taller woman shook her head. "He has those dogs¡ªthey''d sniff us out, and there''s nowhere to go if he catches us up there!" Her face twisted in frustration, torn between choices, every option leading them to possible doom. "Why can''t we think of anything? We''re trapped, aren''t we?" As if on cue, a low, guttural sound echoed through the forest¡ªthe unmistakable, menacing bark of a hunting hound. Both women froze, eyes widening as they stared into the shadows from where they''d come. Another bark, closer this time, followed by a snarl that sent shivers down their spines. They exchanged a glance, terror mirrored in each other''s gaze. "I told you," the shorter woman mouthed, hardly able to breathe. "They''ll find us no matter where we go. We can''t¡­ we can''t outrun him." "Shh," the taller one whispered, clutching her friend''s arm. "Maybe¡­ maybe if we''re quiet, they''ll pass us by. Just stay still." But as the two crouched low, every muscle tensed, a figure emerged from the shadows, the silhouette of a man trailing behind a small pack of massive, hulking hounds. His voice slithered through the darkness, cold and dripping with amusement. "Where are you¡­?" he called, his tone deceptively sweet, mocking, each word laced with cruelty. The two women pressed themselves tighter into the shadows, but it was futile. The man''s dark figure loomed just beyond the trees, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning the area with an eerie calm. His dogs began to sniff at the ground, inching closer to the spot where the women had just stood moments before. They were huge, with jaws powerful enough to snap bones, eyes glowing faintly in the dim moonlight as they caught their quarry''s scent. "Ahh, there you are¡­" the man murmured, his voice almost a whisper, yet somehow carrying with a weight that chilled them to the bone. He chuckled, the sound low and mocking, savoring the chase like a twisted game. The shorter woman clutched her friend''s hand, eyes wide as she whispered, "He''s going to find us. Any second now, he''ll¡­ he''ll¡ª" Her words were cut off as one of the hounds raised its head, ears perked, its nose twitching as it caught their trail. It let out a low growl, beginning to edge toward them, lips curled back to reveal rows of sharp, lethal teeth. The taller woman squeezed her friend''s hand, heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst. "Run, just run!" she mouthed, barely breathing as she felt the oppressive presence of the hunter creeping closer. The shadows seemed to close in, and there was nowhere left to go, nowhere to hide. But just as the dogs were about to find them, a strange light appeared in the sky, flickering faintly before bursting into a fiery streak. It was a meteor, blazing through the night like a beacon from another world, growing larger and brighter as it descended. The hounds halted, their gaze lifting to the sky, ears pricked in confused alertness. The man''s mocking smile faltered as he, too, looked up. His eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his face as he watched the meteor hurtle toward them, its descent rapid, trailing fire and smoke. The women clung to each other, momentarily forgotten in the spectacle. Boom! With an earth-shaking crash, the meteor slammed into the ground nearby, sending a wave of heat and debris through the air. The shockwave hit the man and his hounds, knocking them back, scattering them like leaves in a storm. The two women shielded themselves, eyes wide with shock, barely able to comprehend the miraculous intervention that had saved them. As the dust began to settle, the forest fell silent once more, save for the faint crackle of embers where the meteor had impacted. The two women, still trembling, watched as their pursuer scrambled to his feet, disoriented and enraged, a mixture of shock and fury on his face as he realized that his prey had just slipped from his grasp¡­ for now. Chapter 204 Brute As the dust finally settled, a hush fell over the forest, deep and still, as if holding its breath.The two women, still trembling, gazed ahead, eyes wide and unblinking. There, looming from the crater, was a massive figure, unlike anything they had ever seen. The creature''s skin was a rugged, deep green, muscles bulging and rippling beneath his flesh like corded steel. He towered above them, each limb thick and powerful, his chest bare but for the scars criss crossing his torso, marking countless battles. His face was fierce and angular, with a broad nose and tusks jutting from his lower jaw, teeth glinting like ivory under the pale light. Dark, fiery eyes smoldered beneath his thick brow, gazing down at them with an intensity that made their blood run cold. Frozen in place, the women could only stare, breaths shallow, chests heaving. The figure''s presence alone felt like an unspoken threat, the sheer weight of it pressing down on them as they remained still, hearts pounding in their chests like a war drum. Every instinct screamed at them to run, yet they couldn''t tear their eyes away. A snap from behind them broke their trance. Turning, they spotted the man with long blonde curls, his face contorted in a fury so sharp it seemed to burn. His hounds, large and menacing, stood by his side, each beast with hackles raised, lips curled back to expose glistening fangs, as though they could sense their master''s rage. His eyes darted between the crater and the two women, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Who the hell interrupted my Servus and Sarvas hunt?" he spat, his voice a low, venomous snarl that cut through the still air. The hounds barked and snarled with each curse word, fangs gleaming as they mirrored his anger. "Who dares interfere with my domain? This forest is mine!" The man took a step forward, his face contorted with fury, but then he stopped. His sneer faded as his gaze lifted to the crater, where the enormous figure had fully emerged, shadowing them all. The blonde''s expression shifted, eyes widening, mouth dropping open, the sheer shock freezing him in place. "Kabam¡­!" he muttered, the word escaping his lips in a whisper of disbelief. "What the¡­? An Orc?" The surprise turned quickly to horror, and his voice rose, laced with genuine panic. "What is an Orc doing here, in the Foramina Kingdom? Aren''t they supposed to be in the Canyon of Blood and Valley of Orcs?" His voice trembled, his mind struggling to grasp the situation, to make sense of this impossible sight. The massive Orc looked down at him, barely acknowledging his confusion with a disdainful snort. Every muscle in the Orc''s frame was taut, coiled as if ready to unleash fury with the slightest provocation. It was clear he was no ordinary creature; he radiated a primal force, as if he were a living weapon forged in the heart of battle itself. His mere presence seemed to bend the very air around him, thickening it, as if the forest itself was bowing to his might. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The blonde''s shock morphed into something darker, a flicker of madness sparking in his gaze. His lips twisted into a savage grin, and he straightened, eyes gleaming with a deadly resolve. "There''s an Orc here," he muttered, the words filled with a quiet, almost reverent fury. The tone in his voice shifted, deepening, each word dripping with the promise of violence. "Servus¡­ Sarvas¡­" he said, rolling the names of his hounds with a low growl, his hand gesturing toward the towering figure. "Prepare yourselves. We''re going to fight." The hounds snapped to attention, their fierce barks echoing through the forest, each of them lowering into a predatory stance. The two women, watching this deadly escalation, felt terror creep through their veins like ice, knowing they were about to witness a battle between creatures they couldn''t hope to understand. ¡­ With a cruel smirk, the blonde man raised his hand, commanding his hounds. "Servus! Sarvas! Make him regret ever stepping into my forest." The two massive hounds shot forward, muscles rippling beneath their shaggy fur, fangs bared like glistening daggers. The air buzzed with the power of their vicious intent, and their heavy paws thundered against the ground, sending shivers up through the earth as they closed in on the massive Orc. Each leap they took was accompanied by a ferocious growl, their eyes burning with unrestrained bloodlust. They closed the distance within seconds, lunging for his back, aiming for any exposed skin, eager to sink their fangs into their prey. Servus leapt first, jaws snapping down like a bear trap onto the Orc''s shoulder. Sarvas lunged at his legs, aiming to bring the giant down by tearing through his hamstring. Their claws raked across his dense skin, leaving no visible mark, as if they were nothing more than paper scratching against stone. Servus tightened his bite, grinding down harder, trying to tear flesh and muscle. Continue reading stories on empire The strength behind his jaws would have crushed a normal man''s bones into dust. But this Orc''s skin was unyielding, a fortress that defied all logic. "Rrrrrrrgh! Grrrawwwr!" The hounds snarled in frustration, bloodthirsty eyes wide with disbelief as their strongest attacks barely even dented the Orc''s skin. They clawed and bit, with more and more force, their barks growing more frantic. Yet, the Orc didn''t even flinch. His focus remained elsewhere, as if these beasts, with their bloodlust and desperation, were mere insects. The blonde man''s grin faltered, his expression shifting from confidence to a twisted sort of confusion. His eyes went wide, and his voice came out in a disbelieving murmur. "What¡­? They aren''t even¡­ not even a scratch?" The hounds'' eyes turned round, comically large with shock, their fierce expressions giving way to a confused, almost innocent surprise. Their fangs, so deadly and sharp, had met nothing but an immovable mountain of flesh. For the first time, the powerful beasts hesitated, glancing back at their master with big, bewildered eyes, whining in confusion. The man clenched his fists, rage bubbling beneath the surface. "How dare he¡­" he hissed, a glint of desperation now edging his gaze. "Fine, if you want to play that way, brute, I''ll show you real power." From the folds of his coat, he retrieved a small, crinkled scroll, tinged with the faint glow of arcane runes. He handled it carefully, muttering to himself, "This scroll¡­ bought it for a fortune. Tier five wizard''s magic sealed in here¡­ I''m that a low level brute creature like this Ogre would stand no chance!" His voice trembled slightly, as if even he was a little awestruck by the raw power it held. Unfurling the scroll, he began to chant in a low, sonorous tone, each word carrying a weight that reverberated in the air. The forest around him responded instantly, the very trees bending slightly as if they, too, felt the presence of an ancient magic awakening. The sky darkened, clouds rolling overhead as a powerful force gathered. The air grew thick, charged with the sizzling energy of the spell, and sparks began to leap from the scroll in crackling tendrils of red and gold. The ground beneath them trembled, vibrating with the spell''s intensity as if the earth itself was being torn open. A deep rumble echoed through the forest, sending smaller creatures scurrying for cover as a wild gale whipped through the trees, bending them like reeds. Tendrils of lightning cracked and sizzled around the scroll, striking at random, hissing with raw, arcane fury. In one swift motion, he released the magic, and a blinding column of fire and lightning surged forth, spiraling in on itself like a tornado made of molten energy. It crackled and boomed, shaking the air with an ear-splitting roar. The pillar of magic spiraled up, twisting in an intricate dance, feeding off the raw energy in the air until it was a towering inferno of magical wrath. The magic surged toward the Orc, smashing down with the force of an avalanche, aiming to obliterate everything in its path. KABAM! The explosion rocked the forest, sending waves of energy rippling outward. The impact cratered the ground, leaving a smoking, smoldering circle where the Orc stood. Smoke billowed from the center of the blast, and the blonde man squinted through the haze, eagerly awaiting the sight of his fallen foe. But as the smoke cleared, a deep and heavy silence fell over them. The blonde man''s confident smirk faded, replaced with a horrified stare. His hounds'' ears drooped, their eyes wide with utter disbelief. There, standing in the middle of the blast zone, was the Orc-completely unharmed. Not a scratch marred his skin. He stood still, shoulders relaxed, as if nothing of note had occurred. Slowly, he turned his head, dark eyes narrowing with an irritated glint as he looked over his shoulder. His heavy brow furrowed, his gaze boring into them with a simmering anger, as though they were nothing more than a minor nuisance. "Hmmm?" Chapter 205 Updates As Volk stood amidst the smoldering clearing, smoke swirling around him like dark banners, a faint glimmer caught his attention.Squinting, he saw what appeared to be a transparent interface, flashing several lines of text across his vision. He blinked, unsure at first, but then his eyes widened as the message revealed itself. DING! | System Update Acquired! | Words scrolled across his vision, the strange glow illuminating them in the dim forest. Update: | ''Radioactive Horde Command'' now available! | Note: Command function unavailable. User does not currently have an assembled horde. | A faint frown tugged at Volk''s mouth. He flexed his fingers, itching with anticipation. This feature had potential¡ªunimaginable potential. But without a horde to command, he couldn''t unleash its full power. He grumbled, disappointed yet intrigued. New Feature: ''All-Seeing Eyes'' Activated! Grants the ability to reveal basic information about any life form within sight. Now that was useful. With a subtle focus, he let his gaze shift toward the two trembling figures in front of him. As if on command, words began materializing in the air before him. --- Target: Name: Lira Kesh Age: 24 Gender: Female. Race: Human Ethnicity: Barbarian Background: Tribal Nomad from Southern Orzaroth Strength Level: Average Agility Level: Above Average Fear Level: High Target: Name: Mareen Suul Age: 26 Gender: Female. Race: Human Ethnicity: Barbarian Background: Hunter from Southern Orzaroth Strength Level: Below Average Agility Level: Average Fear Level: Extreme --- Volk felt a thrill of satisfaction pulse through him. He''d always hated guessing the strengths and intentions of potential enemies¡ªor allies. Now, he could see through them with just a look. This "All-Seeing Eyes" feature was a game-changer. The two women stood there, their wide, fearful eyes fixed on him. Lira''s lips trembled, and Mareen looked as though she might bolt if her legs hadn''t frozen in place. He could practically feel the terror radiating from them, their breaths coming fast and shallow. Read new chapters at empire He let out a low growl, half from irritation at being watched and half from amusement at their shock. His eyes continued scanning the system updates as if savoring each line, and he smirked when he reached the next one. Ding! | New Feature: ''Radioactive Signal'' | Enabled! Note: Signal tracking feature unavailable. Map data required. | The words flickered ominously, but Volk understood. This "Radioactive Signal" might let him locate other significant creatures or dangers around him¡ªif he had the right equipment to map it. He clenched his fist, feeling a surge of excitement mingling with frustration. The system was evolving with him, granting him new tools with every battle, every enemy defeated. It was far from perfect, but it was something he could work with. The thought was interrupted by a loud BANG! against his back. A solid force slammed into him, just hard enough to make him grunt. The sting was minimal, but it was enough to make his brow furrow with irritation. He clenched his jaw, taking a deep, rumbling breath. Slowly, Volk turned, muscles coiled and ready. And there, standing a few feet away, were the culprits: two hounds with wild eyes and teeth bared, their snarls sharp enough to slice the air itself. The hounds backed up, surprised and trembling. But standing behind them, smugly satisfied, was a man who could only be described as absurdly flamboyant. He was tall, with a shock of blond curls that fell over his shoulders in waves, and a well-trimmed beard that framed his sneering mouth. His clothing was elaborate, a royal blue coat with embroidered golden patterns, a ruffled white shirt, and several rings that glittered on his fingers. The blonde man''s eyes widened, and his face twisted with shock and anger. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He sneered, spitting out his words. "Who dares to interrupt my hunt for my Servus and Sarvas? Do you even know who I am, you filthy brute?" The hounds barked as if echoing their master''s curses, lunging forward with snapping jaws, each snarl laced with bitter rage. Volk took a step forward, his massive form looming over them. His brows lowered, and he fixed the man with an unamused glare, his voice low and gruff, "Hmmm?" The blonde man''s expression faltered for just a second, a glimmer of fear flashing behind his feigned arrogance. His voice dripped with contempt, but Volk could see the subtle tremor in his grip, the way his fingers danced nervously over his ornate rings. "You¡­ filth!" the blonde spat, trying to hold onto his dignity. "You have no idea who you''re dealing with, do you?" He hesitated, his eyes darting to Volk''s towering form, those deep-set eyes glowing with barely restrained menace. In a flash of insight, the blonde realized he wasn''t going to win this. This was no ordinary beast. The creature before him was formidable, and possibly one of those elite warriors rumored to lurk in the Canyon of Orcs or the Valley of Orcs. His mind raced. He needed an out, and fast. Grumbling, he reached into his pocket, his hand closing over a smooth scroll tucked within the folds of his robe. "I never thought I''d need to use this," he muttered under his breath, his tone a mixture of frustration and resignation. With a flourish, he yanked the scroll free and held it high, its edges rimmed in a faint golden light. The air around it seemed to warp, as if even the elements feared what was coming. Volk''s eyes narrowed as the blonde whispered a string of incantations in a language that sounded like the hiss of molten metal, each word intensifying the light. Then it began. The scroll lifted from the man''s hand, hovering in the air as if held by invisible threads. It trembled, shaking violently before splitting open with a soft crack! The edges unraveled, and bright, cascading streams of light poured forth from its surface, streaking the sky like molten stars. First, a single band of light swirled around the man, then another, and another. Threads of blinding brilliance weaved into each other, twisting and merging, forming a radiant cocoon that pulsed and expanded. Each pulse sent waves of energy rippling through the forest, the trees shuddering under its might, leaves trembling and lifting off their branches, caught in the violent vortex. The light exploded outward, flooding the forest in an ethereal, almost blinding glow. Colors shifted, refracting through the air in a kaleidoscope of reds, blues, and greens. It painted the trunks of trees and the ground below in surreal hues, illuminating every stone and shadow. Faint symbols glowed within the streams, flickering in and out of existence, runes from some forgotten ancient language that pulsed with raw power. The entire forest seemed to hum in response, a low, otherworldly sound that made Volk''s bones vibrate. The light twisted, then folded in on itself with a flash so bright it could have been mistaken for a star going supernova. And then, in an instant, it collapsed inward, forming a point of condensed light. With a crackling pop! the blonde man disappeared, the light dissipating in a cascade of falling embers, scattering like fireflies as the night reclaimed the forest. Volk blinked, stunned. "Huh?" He stared at the spot where the blonde man had just been. The faint smell of scorched air hung around him, and the embers slowly faded, leaving the world silent once more. Suddenly, a screen materialized before Volk''s eyes, his system''s familiar, mechanical voice chiming with a ding. DING! | Mission: Catch the Blonde Man before he could reach the Baron Mansion. | Reward: Radioactive Magic Gauntlet | Failure Penalty: All-Seeing Eyes Deactivated | Volk''s brows furrowed as he scanned the details, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. It wasn''t the threat of losing his newly acquired All-Seeing Eyes or even the allure of the Radioactive Magic Gauntlet that struck him the most. It was the fact that he had been given a mission here, in this unknown realm. A challenge from his system, issued directly to him, targeting that insolent blonde. He understood the implications. His system didn''t waste its energy; it only guided him when there was something vital, something important at stake. If it wanted him to catch this man, it wasn''t just about the gauntlet. There was something deeper, some hidden advantage waiting if he succeeded. A grin spread across Volk''s face, wild and fierce, his sharp teeth glinting in the faint moonlight. His heart began to beat faster, the thrill of the hunt electrifying his veins. The ground beneath him seemed to hum with his excitement, as if the earth itself was trembling in anticipation of what he would do next. "All right!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the trees around him as his fist clenched with renewed determination. Chapter 206 Just give me the way! As Volk steadied himself, brushing the last bits of fading light from his vision, a realization hit him.The blonde man was gone. Really gone. And not just a regular disappearance. The sensation he felt ¡ª the disorientation, the intense light ¡ª it all pointed to teleportation. Volk frowned, scratching his chin. How was he supposed to hunt down a man who could just blink out of existence like that? His jaw clenched in frustration, his eyes narrowing as he replayed the scene in his mind. His system didn''t give impossible missions ¡ª that much he knew. There had to be a way to track that arrogant little prick, but how? Then, as if reading his thoughts, a new screen flickered to life in front of him, its blue hue casting a soft glow on his face: DING! | Host has unlocked a new ability: Universal Growing Language. | The description scrolled beneath it, explaining that Volk could now use two additional universal languages ¡ª not just with creatures or people but with anything sentient, including rocks, trees, or even the ground itself. His brows raised, momentarily impressed. But then he huffed, dismissing the notion of talking to dirt and rocks. No, he had a better idea. He turned his gaze toward the two women standing just a few paces away. The system hadn''t only unlocked the language ability; it had helpfully highlighted their names in faint green above their heads: Lira and Mareen. Both were shaking visibly, their faces pale, their breaths shallow as they watched the giant, muscular Orc who had just withstood both hounds and powerful magic. Another notification blinked. DING! | Would Host like to activate Universal Growing Language with the two nearby targets? | Volk grunted in affirmation, nodding toward the screen. The system shimmered briefly, and then, as if a switch had been flipped, a strange warmth settled in his mind. It felt like he''d unlocked a new gear in his head, and suddenly, the speech of the two women became clearer, less garbled. At first, the two stood frozen, rooted in fear, eyes wide as they took in the enormity of him. Lira, a short but well-built woman with brown skin and dark braids that fell down her back, was the first to try speaking, but her words came out as a whisper, barely audible. "Y-you¡­ You''re not¡­ like the others¡­" she stammered, clutching a stone necklace hanging around her neck. Her eyes darted to Mareen, who looked equally petrified, her knuckles white as she gripped a wooden staff decorated with carved symbols. Volk raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he waited, his expression half-curious, half-annoyed. "Well?" he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "You got something to say? Spit it out." Mareen tried to straighten up, swallowing hard. Her voice came out shaky, but there was a hint of defiance in her eyes. "W-we¡­ w-we¡­ don''t¡­ don''t know anything about¡­ about you. But¡­ but we know him. The man you faced." She looked away, but her eyes were drawn back to his towering figure, and she winced slightly. "He''s¡­ he''s¡­ a¡­ a noble." Volk tilted his head, leaning down a bit so that he could hear them better, his gaze fixed on them intently. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They flinched as he moved closer, their breaths hitching as they took in his massive frame, his skin a deep, mottled green that seemed to ripple with muscle beneath. His arms were thicker than their waists, covered in faint scars, and his tusks gleamed dangerously as he grinned. "Start from the beginning," he demanded, his voice softer but no less intimidating. "And don''t leave out any details." Lira bit her lip, glancing at Mareen, who gave a reluctant nod. The two women seemed to gather their courage, their eyes darting between each other and Volk. Your journey continues at empire Finally, Lira took a shaky breath, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "He¡­ he''s one of the Servithian nobility," she managed, her eyes widening as Volk''s expression darkened. "They¡­ they live in the Foramina Kingdom, far east from here¡­ beyond the cliffs." Her hands trembled as she spoke, clutching her necklace as though it might shield her. "People say they¡­ they don''t have mercy¡­ that they hunt for sport. Like he was¡­ like he was doing with us." Volk''s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed her words. The Servithian nobility¡­ That explained the arrogance, the cruelty. But it didn''t answer the most pressing question. "Which direction?" he growled, his gaze sharp. The two women exchanged a nervous glance, hesitating. Mareen looked down, biting her lip as though weighing whether or not to answer. Then, with a deep breath, she lifted her gaze to meet his. "He¡­ he''ll be heading back to the Foramina Kingdom," she murmured, her voice steadying slightly. "But there are¡­ There are dangers along the way. The Servithians don''t travel alone. They''ll have¡­ creatures with them¡­ monsters." "Monsters?" Volk''s eyes gleamed with interest, his lip curling into a grin. "What kind?" Lira and Mareen exchanged a fearful look, but Volk''s gaze was relentless, pinning them down, demanding answers. "The worst kind," Mareen whispered, her voice barely audible. "Flesh-eaters¡­ shadowbeasts¡­ creatures that don''t die easily." She shuddered, her eyes distant as though haunted by memories. "They¡­ they come out at night, hunting anything that dares to cross into their lands. And they serve the Servithians." Volk grunted, his expression a mix of intrigue and annoyance. He''d hoped for more precise directions, but at least they can communicate with him now. Volk''s patience was wearing dangerously thin, his brow furrowed, and his massive hands clenched in frustration. He''d been trying to get these two to give him a straight answer, but they seemed more interested in dodging his questions than actually helping him. With a sharp intake of breath, he clapped his hands, the sound echoing through the dense forest like thunder. The two women jolted, snapping out of their whispered conversation, eyes wide as they looked up at him, trembling like leaves in a storm. Volk leaned forward, looming over them like a dark mountain, his gaze fixed and intense. "I don''t need stories. I need one thing. Which. Direction," he demanded, enunciating each word with growing impatience. "Point. Your. Hands. And be done with it." Lira and Mareen exchanged glances, their expressions darting between fear and hesitation. Mareen opened her mouth as if to speak, but her voice faltered, and she only stammered out a few uncertain words. "W-we¡­ it''s¡­ well¡­ I mean, it''s not so simple¡­" Lira chimed in, nodding as though her life depended on it. "Y-yes, you see, Foramina is¡­ it''s beyond several ridges, and¡­ well, there are landmarks, but they''re tricky to follow if¡­ if you''ve never traveled that way before. Some¡­ some say there are places that move. Like, when you go back¡­ things have shifted¡­ " Mareen jumped in, her voice wavering but somehow finding more confidence in the stall tactic. "Yes! And the Servithian guards, they¡­ they set traps. Traps we don''t even know how to avoid ourselves. We barely escaped when we did¡­ and that was only because they didn''t think we were worth the trouble of chasing¡­" Volk''s eye twitched, and he resisted the urge to growl. "I don''t need to know about shifting trees or guards or traps. Just. Give. Me. A direction." Chapter 207 Hounds The two women glanced at each other again, clearly buying time, though their voices took on an increasingly rambling quality, words tumbling out faster than their thoughts seemed to form."Well, you see," Lira said, clasping her hands together nervously. "It''s actually kind of¡­ well, confusing. There''s the west path, which leads around the cliffs, but¡­ um, the western cliff can sometimes look like the northern one, especially when the mist rolls in. And if you don''t go exactly as the shadows fall¡­ well, you could end up doubling back¡­" "Yes! And there''s that forest where the howling winds come from," Mareen added, nodding rapidly. "It messes with your sense of direction. One moment you think you''re going south, then you''re somehow¡­ walking east! People have been known to get lost for days, and by the time they make it out, they''re nowhere close to where they started." Volk''s patience was wearing thinner with every word they spoke. His massive fingers curled into fists, and he planted his feet firmly on the ground. His gaze darkened, his lips pressed into a line, and a low growl escaped his throat. He leaned closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "I don''t care about wind tricks or shadow cliffs. I need you to show me the way. Just one point. One direction. Now." But the two women, perhaps sensing his growing irritation, exchanged yet another wary glance, their nervousness clearly reaching new heights. Mareen swallowed hard and continued, almost as if talking about their endless misdirections was the only thing keeping them safe from his wrath. "But¡­ but¡­ it''s not just about direction!" she stammered, clutching her necklace again as if it were a protective charm. "Once you get past the ridges¡­ there''s this river. It''s shallow enough to cross but¡­ but only in certain places! And¡­ and the water''s strange, sometimes. People say it carries¡­ curses. Enjoy more content from empire "It''s why the Servithians use it as a natural barrier. We''ve only ever heard rumors about where to cross safely¡­" "And then there are the stone pillars," Lira added, nodding fervently. "They''re ancient, from some forgotten era, and they hum with¡­ energy. We''ve heard if you pass by them without knowing the right chant, they¡ª" Volk''s patience snapped. He stomped his foot on the ground with enough force to shake the nearby trees, and the two women yelped, stumbling back, eyes wide with terror. "Enough!" he barked, his voice a rumbling thunder. "I get it. You''re afraid. And I understand. But I''m not here to hurt you. I just need one direction. Just point. And everything will be fine." The two women flinched but held each other''s gaze, their expressions caught somewhere between reluctant trust and deep-seated fear. Lira''s hand trembled as she raised it, her index finger wavering as she pointed, hesitating as though the motion itself might bind her to a dire fate. Mareen looked at her, clutching her arm tightly, and the two seemed to be silently weighing their options once more, almost as if even now they feared they might give him the wrong answer. A pause hung in the air, and finally, as Volk''s glare turned sharper than a honed blade, Mareen''s eyes filled with panic. She shouted, almost as if in desperation, "We¡­ we don''t know! We really don''t! We''ve never traveled that far ourselves! We only know the rumors. "We were just trying to escape the huntsmen ¡ª we never paid attention to how to reach the Foramina Kingdom. We have no idea!" Tears streamed down the faces of Lira and Mareen, each drop glistening under the dappled light that broke through the forest canopy. Their voices quivered as they sobbed, words spilling over one another in desperation. "We''re¡­ we''re just slaves," Mareen stammered, her fingers twisting the fabric of her tattered tunic. "They took us from our tribes¡­ from our brothers¡­ from sisters¡­ mothers and fathers¡­ our families¡­" Lira nodded rapidly, her own voice choked with fear. "We don''t know anything about Foramina, or the paths. We''ve only ever been brought to the outskirts to hunt¡­ to fetch¡­ We''re just... tools for their hunger games, nothing more, nothing less." Their words came out in a feverish rush, tangling over each other as if they feared every breath might be their last. The forest around them seemed to echo their panic, amplifying their helplessness. Volk''s fingers tightened around the haft of his axe as his patience dissolved into a seething irritation. "So¡­ all of this," he growled, his eyes narrowing into an icy glare, "all this time I wasted¡­ for nothing? You said all that stuff for nothing?" Lira and Mareen recoiled, clutching each other tightly. "Please spare us, we just want to live¡­ we don''t want to die¡­" They looked at him with wild eyes, shaking their heads as if somehow, through sheer denial, they might alter the outcome. But the fire of his rage burned hotter. "All because you couldn''t say you didn''t know?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, a low and terrifying promise. "Fine then. If you wasted my time," Volk lifted his massive axe, the blade glinting in the light, "I''ll make sure you won''t waste anyone else''s." He tilted the blade toward them, its weight gleaming with a predatory intent. "Don''t worry. You won''t feel a thing." Just as he readied his swing, a sudden, mournful bark shattered the tense silence. Then another whimper, pitiful and lonely, broke through the clearing. It was followed by a low, sorrowful howl, echoing with the unmistakable sound of abandonment. Volk froze, his brow furrowing. The sound was¡­ familiar. His gaze turned away from the trembling women, his mind racing. The hounds. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The blonde man''s hounds. He recalled their fierce snarls and loyalty to their master, but the pitiful sounds he now heard were the cries of animals left behind, abandoned in confusion. It struck him with a strange clarity. The blonde man had fled, leaving his own hounds behind. If the beasts were still around, maybe they had a trail. Perhaps they could lead him back to their master, and he''d finally find the answer he sought. Volk lowered his axe slowly, his rage transforming into a calculating gleam as he turned his gaze back to Lira and Mareen. "Seems you''re in luck," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice carrying an odd detachment. "You''re free to go." The two women blinked, their terror morphing into disbelief, and then into a tentative hope. They dared not speak, too fearful it might shatter the miracle before them. Volk didn''t bother waiting for them to fully comprehend their escape. He turned on his heel and marched toward the sound of the whimpers, leaving the two stunned women in his wake. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he heard them stumble away, whispering fervent prayers of gratitude. He paid them no more mind. His focus was now on the fading cries of the hounds, the abandoned beasts who could lead him straight to his quarry. With a new way to thread to, Volk marched forward, his steps heavy and deliberate, his senses sharp. He would track that blonde coward, find the answers he needed from the system, and, if the gods favored him, settle whatever unfinished business there is. Chapter 208 Trailing As Volk continued his march toward the sound of the two whimpering hounds, his focus narrowed on his goal.His mind buzzed with plans, envisioning the chase, the capture, and finally the answers he sought. But then¡ª "Wait!" A small voice cut through his concentration. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk paused, his massive form looming in the dim forest light, and turned his head. There, a few paces behind him, stood the two girls: Lira and Mareen. They had been spared and were now free to run, to disappear into the woods and vanish from his sight forever, yet here they were, watching him with an intensity he hadn''t anticipated. Volk frowned, crossing his arms as he faced them. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone gruff and impatient. "Didn''t I say you''re free to go? So go. This doesn''t concern you." The two women exchanged a quick glance, and then Mareen stepped forward. "We¡­ we know that, but¡­ you¡­ need us." Volk let out an exasperated huff, turning his head to refocus on the hounds. The urge to continue his pursuit tugged at him, an invisible thread pulling him forward. "What for?" he demanded, looking over his shoulder. "I''m not sure if you''ve noticed, but I don''t need help from two clueless runaways." Lira swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "We aren''t¡­ clueless." She cast her eyes down, her words gathering momentum like a stone rolling down a hill. "Look, we don''t know where we are exactly, but we do know who¡­ who abducted us. We lied before, okay? About knowing this place, the paths, everything." She hesitated, then added softly, "We¡­ i don''t know the blonde man either." Volk''s eyes narrowed as he processed this, a flash of irritation prickling his patience. "So, everything you told me before? All lies?" They nodded, shame crossing their faces, though Mareen was quick to clarify, "We¡­ We were scared! And if you knew we were useless¡­ you might have killed us." Volk let out a low growl, his irritation rising. "That''s it? So you wasted my time. And now you''re wasting more of it." He turned to follow the hounds once more, grumbling under his breath, but he''d only taken a single step before Mareen''s voice cut in again. "You''re going to follow those hounds now, aren''t you?" Volk paused, casting a baleful glare over his shoulder. "Obviously." Lira''s lips twitched, trying to suppress a nervous smile. "Well¡­ that''s¡­ actually kind of smart." Volk''s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What''s your point?" "The hounds," Mareen explained, her words stumbling over themselves in her haste, "They''ll lead you somewhere, yes, but what if it''s a place of danger? Or a trap? Or a place where you won''t be able to catch the blonde man. They could turn on you the second they find their master, and without knowing anything about this land¡ª" Volk waved her off, his patience visibly wearing thin. "I don''t need help to deal with a couple of dogs. And why should I believe you?" Mareen stepped forward, holding her hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Let me tell you something about me," she said, her voice trembling but determined. "I¡­ I''m a hunger¡ªa hunter and tracker, trained since childhood to find trails, spot signs, sense creatures before they sense me. It''s in my blood, in my bones. In the mountains where I was born, my people taught me to read the earth like words on a page. "The way moss grows, the curve of a footprint, a broken twig¡ªthey all speak to me. And in these lands, new though they are to me, I¡­ I feel the signs, I see them in a way you might not." Volk regarded her silently, his gaze unreadable. "Why does that matter to me?" "Because," she pressed, "I can help you catch him. I can read the movements of those hounds, the forest around us. I know enough to give you a better chance of success." Volk let out a heavy, exasperated breath. "And if you''re lying to me again?" Lira and Mareen exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them before Lira spoke up, her voice steadier now. "Then¡­ kill us. Right here. We won''t stop you. All we want is to catch that man, get a map, and be on our way." Volk considered them for a long moment, his expression darkening as he weighed his options. Then, with a sharp nod, he stepped closer to them, towering over their slight forms as he grabbed them each by the back of their tunics and hoisted them up effortlessly. "If you lie to me again," he rumbled, his voice low and dangerous, "you''ll pay a steep price." They both nodded fervently, the fear in their eyes unmistakable, but so was the spark of determination. Without another word, Volk adjusted his grip, securing them under his arms as he surged forward, the wind rushing past them in a blur of motion. With the hounds'' scent and two allies¡ªor liabilities, only time would tell¡ªat his side, Volk charged forward, his path clear, his intent sharper than ever. ¡­ The forest stretched on endlessly, dense and wild, swallowing every sound beneath its towering trees. A tangled mass of ancient trunks and sprawling branches formed a canopy so thick that sunlight barely managed to pierce through. What few rays made it down to the forest floor dappled the landscape in patches of muted green and warm amber. It was a place of deep shadows, where unseen things seemed to skitter away, half-glimpsed at the edges of vision. Each step Volk took was heavy and sure, shaking loose the damp, earthy smell of moss, bark, and fallen leaves that had long settled. The air was thick with the murmur of life¡ªsmall creatures scurrying underfoot, insects buzzing through shafts of light, and an ever-present whisper of distant rustling that hinted at creatures lurking just out of sight. Around him, the undergrowth tangled in wild knots. Brambles caught at his legs, vines hung like claws, and roots jutted out from the ground, eager to trip the unwary. Even Volk, with his massive strides, had to keep his focus steady. Beside him, Mareen and Lira moved more nimbly, their familiarity with woodland terrain helping them dodge and weave through obstacles that Volk simply barreled through. The forest''s dense, living heartbeat seemed to grow quieter as they progressed, as though the very life of the place was holding its breath, aware of their mission. And then, they came to an open stretch where the ground broke into a series of intersecting trails, each leading off into the forest like a tangled web, splitting and diverging as if the creatures had been running through in a frenzy. Four distinct trails lay before them, winding and crisscrossing, the fresh prints barely visible in the soft, damp earth. Mareen stepped forward, crouching down to inspect them, her gaze sharp and attentive as she reached out, fingers brushing the faint imprints. Volk folded his arms, watching her with a faint frown. "You know which way?" Mareen took a deep breath and leaned closer, her fingers tracing the first trail with a feather-light touch. "This trail," she began, pointing to the one on the far left, "seems fresh¡­ but it''s deceptive. The paw prints are shallow, the stride wide. This is a ''feint,''" she said, glancing up at Volk with a glint of satisfaction. "The hounds here moved fast, but light. See how the claw marks barely disturb the ground? It''s a trick¡ªwhoever sent them wanted anyone following to be fooled into thinking they took this path first. They rushed through here, but they didn''t linger." Volk tilted his head, observing as she continued. She moved to the second trail, her fingers ghosting over the earth as she scrutinized it. "Now, this one here¡­ it''s messier. See these deep impressions?" She pointed to several prints, the soil clearly gouged. "The hounds moved slower here, more deliberately, possibly when they were sniffing around to pick up scents. There''s more weight, and the spacing between the prints shows they were hesitant. "I''d say this trail is where they took a moment to¡­ reconsider, maybe waiting on their handler''s cue. But in the end, they left this one, too." She took a few slow steps to the third trail, where the earth was noticeably more churned up, and let out a soft hum of interest. Her fingers traced the path of each step as if reading a line of text. "Now, this one¡­" Mareen''s eyes lit up, her voice taking on a quiet thrill. "The hounds moved fast here, yes, but there''s something else." She pointed to a series of sharp claw marks, deep enough to have torn small chunks of soil free. "Here, the hounds have committed fully. The steps are balanced and quick, and you can see how they pressed harder here than in the other trails. This is the trail of a creature intent on reaching something. They''re not scouting or testing here¡ªthey''re committed." She straightened up and looked to the final trail, her eyes narrowing as she took it in. "And this fourth trail¡­" Her brows furrowed as she leaned over it, examining the faintest scuff marks. "This one is unusual. It''s like they doubled back here, almost as if trying to cover their tracks. It''s muddied, but only faintly¡ªsee how these prints are overlaid?" She pointed, showing how several paw marks seemed stacked atop each other. "They circled here, either trying to throw off pursuit or waiting. It''s a stalling technique." Finally, she turned back to the third trail, pointing decisively. "This one," she said firmly, "is the real path. The hounds were focused and clear in their purpose when they took this route. If we follow here," she added, her voice growing more assured with each word, "we''ll be on their true trail. The hounds might even lead us to where their handler is going. They can''t hide their intention once they commit like this." Chapter 209 Loyal Hounds The forest seemed endless, each shadow and twisted tree blending into the next, creating an ever-shifting maze of brambles, vines, and looming branches.As Volk, Mareen, and Lira continued along the tangled paths, the trails they''d been following grew more convoluted, filled with odd twists and crisscrosses that only deepened the sense of confusion. Mareen''s eyes stayed sharp, flicking between the various tracks on the forest floor as if she were reading some hidden language woven into the soil. "See here?" she whispered, crouching low once again and brushing aside a cluster of leaves, revealing a faint, almost invisible set of prints just off to the left. "They tried to mask their tracks with a false lead¡ªanother circle, doubling back." Her voice was laced with focus, and she traced a claw mark half-buried beneath a layer of forest debris. "These hounds... their master is thorough. But he didn''t count on us being just as relentless." Volk grunted in agreement, but a flicker of impatience crossed his face. The more they veered from the original trail, the more distracted he felt. Every twist and diversion made him wonder if they were only wasting time, but Mareen''s careful pace and unerring sense for each faint scuff and paw print reassured him just enough to keep going. Moving forward, they entered a dense section of forest where the light had nearly vanished. The canopy overhead was woven so thick that it choked out any stray sunbeam that dared to intrude. A damp chill hung in the air, the kind that clung to their skin and seemed to slow time. It was here, surrounded by silence so complete it was deafening, that Mareen stopped once more, raising her hand to halt them. She pointed into the distance, past the tangled brush and between two massive, moss-covered oaks. "There," she murmured, her voice barely a breath. Volk squinted, following the line of her outstretched finger. Through the gloom and the twisted branches, he spotted movement in the distance¡ªa pair of dark, sleek shapes prowling low to the ground, gliding through the forest like wraiths. The hounds. Their outlines were just visible in the dim light, their bodies taut and powerful, every muscle coiled like a spring. They moved with predatory grace, sniffing the air with twitching noses, alert but silent. Even from this distance, Volk could see their eyes glinting with an unnatural, eerie light, scanning their surroundings for any sign of an intruder. "They''re on the move again," Mareen whispered, crouching lower behind a thick tree trunk, her gaze unwavering. Lira, beside her, sucked in a sharp breath, clutching a small stone as if it could ward off the very beasts they tracked. "If they catch our scent¡ª" "They won''t," Mareen interjected, her voice calm but edged with quiet authority. "They''re focused on something up ahead. Something they''re bound to return to." She glanced at Volk, a spark of determination in her eyes. "This is our chance." They continued their quiet pursuit, slipping through the underbrush like shadows. Volk moved with surprising stealth for his size, each step barely a whisper against the forest floor. The hounds'' trails grew fresher, their paw prints more defined, as they made their way deeper into the forest. Volk''s eyes narrowed, focused on every twist and turn as Mareen guided them. With each step, she scanned the trail carefully, her fingers brushing against each print left by the hounds, deciphering the direction like it was some unspoken language only she could understand. A thick canopy of branches loomed overhead, casting mottled shadows across their path, while the muted sunlight that trickled through the leaves danced in patches upon the ground. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Strange scents filled the air, mingling with the faint, almost musky trail the hounds had left behind, leading them through the winding forest paths with each footfall. Volk grunted, turning to Mareen. "Just keep following them. I need that blonde wretch, not his pets." Mareen nodded, glancing back to Lira, who trailed a bit further behind, her eyes darting nervously from side to side. She clutched her makeshift weapon tightly, ready to defend herself from any sudden threat. The silence was broken only by the occasional snap of a twig underfoot, and the soft rustle of leaves as they pressed on, tracking their prey like hunters on the trail of a beast. After several minutes, they passed through a dense thicket, where branches seemed to claw at them, their sharp ends snagging on clothing and armor alike. Volk brushed off a stubborn vine that had wrapped around his arm, muttering curses under his breath. They emerged on the other side, and there, just ahead, he saw the two hounds again¡ªsleek, dark shadows moving with an unnerving quiet, their noses skimming the ground as they weaved in and out of sight between the trees. The group paused. Volk held up a hand, and they crouched low, watching as the hounds continued their path, seeming oblivious to their presence for now. Volk took a steadying breath, his eyes trained on the hounds. He wasn''t about to let them slip away. "They''ve got a scent," Mareen whispered, her gaze fixed intently on the hounds. "Then we keep close," Volk growled. He leaned forward, eyes locked on his quarry. "But don''t let them see us." With careful steps, they followed, keeping to the shadows as they moved in a wide arc, never getting too close, but never losing sight of their targets. Mareen pointed out small, almost imperceptible indicators along the way¡ªa paw print half-hidden under a leaf, a broken branch, a disturbed patch of earth. It was as if every tiny detail held a message, guiding them forward. The hounds'' path led them through dense brambles and under fallen logs, until they reached a small, clear brook that bubbled quietly through the undergrowth. The hounds paused there, lapping at the water with quick, sharp motions, their dark coats shimmering faintly in the dim light. Volk tensed, watching as they drank, his muscles coiled, ready to spring if the need arose. Just then, one of the hounds lifted its head, its ears pricked forward, nose twitching as it sniffed the air. Volk, Mareen, and Lira froze, pressing themselves flat against the ground, holding their breath as the hound''s gaze swept over their hiding spot. Its eyes gleamed in the shadows, scanning for any movement. After a tense moment, the hound lowered its head, returning to its drink, apparently none the wiser. Mareen let out a silent sigh of relief, casting a wary glance back at Volk, who gave a barely perceptible nod, signaling for them to keep moving. They waited until the hounds finished at the brook and continued down the path, then slowly resumed their pursuit. They followed the hounds through narrow trails and winding paths, ducking under low-hanging branches and squeezing between thick bushes that seemed to claw at them with every step. Mareen kept her eyes fixed ahead, focused entirely on the trail, while Volk''s gaze flicked between their surroundings, ever watchful for any sign that the hounds might have noticed them. But just when they thought they''d mastered the art of silent pursuit, something shifted in the air. One of the hounds halted abruptly, its body tensing as it turned its head, sniffing at the air once more. Volk stilled, his eyes narrowing, realizing that the hounds were becoming more alert. He motioned for Mareen and Lira to crouch lower, and they obeyed, their breaths shallow as they waited, hoping the hounds hadn''t detected them. Yet the hounds'' noses twitched, and a low growl escaped their throats, vibrating through the silence of the forest. They turned in unison, their eyes locking directly onto the trio hiding in the brush. Lira let out a quiet gasp, but Volk remained motionless, his gaze locked onto the hounds with grim determination. For a moment, there was a tense standoff¡ªthe hounds staring at them, hackles raised, teeth bared, while Volk, Mareen, and Lira held their ground. But then, to everyone''s shock, one of the hounds snarled and lunged at its companion, clamping its powerful jaws around the other''s neck. The sudden savagery of the attack was horrifying. The two hounds tore into each other with brutal efficiency, snapping and biting, their fangs gleaming in the shadows. Blood spattered the ground as they wrestled, locked in a vicious death grip, their snarls and growls echoing through the forest like the cries of wild beasts. Lira stifled a scream, watching as the two hounds clawed and bit at each other with relentless ferocity, as if compelled by some unseen force. Chapter 210 Hunters Direction The two hounds descended into a frenzy of violence, their loyalty driving them to self-destruction.It began with a low growl, a rumbling snarl that erupted into a guttural roar. The larger of the two lunged forward with a wet, tearing CHOMP!, its jaws snapping down onto the other''s shoulder. Flesh gave way with a sickening RIP!, spraying blood in an arc that splattered the forest floor in crimson streaks. The smaller hound let out an agonized yelp, its voice high-pitched and broken, before retaliating with a savage bite to the throat. CRUNCH! Bones cracked audibly as its teeth sank deep into the vulnerable flesh. The larger hound shook violently, trying to dislodge its attacker, its claws scrabbling at the ground with a scratching SKRRRKK! It howled in pain but didn''t relent. Instead, it twisted its body with feral strength, tearing itself free with a wet SCHLORP!, leaving a ragged chunk of flesh dangling from the smaller hound''s jaws. Blood gushed from the wound in spurts, steaming as it hit the cold forest air. The smaller hound, emboldened by its strike, lunged again, this time clamping onto the larger one''s ear. With a brutal jerk, it tore the ear clean off with a loud RRRRIIIIPPP!, the sound of cartilage snapping reverberating through the trees. The larger hound howled in fury, its red-stained fangs flashing as it retaliated by lunging forward, teeth sinking into the smaller one''s hind leg. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A sickening POP! echoed as the joint dislocated, the limb hanging limp as the larger hound dragged its opponent across the ground, smearing blood and fur in its wake. The smaller hound, now crippled, fought back with a desperate frenzy. It lashed out with its claws, scoring deep gashes across the larger one''s face with a wet SHLICK! One claw caught the larger hound''s eye, and with a nauseating PLUCK!, the orb was torn free, dangling from its socket by a bloodied sinew. The larger hound snarled louder, its fury unchecked despite the mutilation. It slammed its body into the smaller hound, pinning it to the ground with a resounding THUD!. Its jaws closed around the smaller hound''s throat with a deep CRUNCH!, and with a savage jerk, it tore free a chunk of flesh, spraying the surrounding foliage in a dark, arterial spray. The smaller hound gagged and coughed, blood bubbling from its throat as it scrabbled weakly at its attacker. SNAP! SNAP! CHOMP! The larger hound continued its assault, tearing apart its rival piece by piece. It wasn''t just a fight¡ªit was a massacre, a grotesque display of loyalty and savagery. The forest seemed to echo with the sound of tearing flesh, splintering bone, and guttural growls. Far behind, Mareen, Lira, and Volk watched the gruesome spectacle with wide eyes. Mareen clutched Lira''s arm, her voice trembling as she said, "I-I think they''re...killing each other so we can''t follow their trail anymore. Hounds like these¡ªthey''re loyal to the death. They must''ve known we were close and decided to destroy themselves before leading us to their master." Volk''s face twisted in fury, his teeth grinding audibly as he processed Mareen''s words. "Loyalty?" he spat. "They wasted my time with this madness!" Without another word, Volk surged forward, his massive legs propelling him through the forest at breakneck speed. The ground shook under his weight as he ran, every step thundering like a war drum. Branches and vines snapped against his armor with sharp TWANGS!, but he didn''t slow. His focus was singular¡ªthe hounds. By the time Volk reached the mangled bodies, it was too late. Both hounds were motionless, their bodies mutilated and soaked in blood. One had its throat torn open, the other''s skull crushed and leaking brain matter onto the dirt. Their lifeless eyes stared blankly into the canopy above, their final act of defiance complete. Volk roared, the sound echoing through the trees like an earthquake. "DAMN IT!" He slammed his fists into the ground, cracking the earth beneath him. "I needed them!" Mareen and Lira cautiously approached, their steps hesitant as they saw Volk crouched over the corpses, his massive hands trembling with barely-contained rage. Mareen swallowed hard, her voice shaking as she said, "We...we can still figure out where he went. Let me look." Enjoy new stories from empire Volk''s head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing. "You''d better not waste my time again." Mareen nodded, her fear momentarily overshadowed by determination. She knelt by the corpses, examining the ground and surrounding area with a sharp, calculating gaze. She pointed to faint drag marks leading away from the scene. "The hounds were heading in this direction before they stopped. It''s likely that their master¡ªthe blonde man¡ªisn''t far." Volk rose to his feet, towering over her. "And you''re sure?" Mareen met his gaze, swallowing her fear. "Yes. I''m sure." Volk studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Good." He motioned for them to follow. "Let''s move. Go!" With that, the trio set off once more. ¡­ The blonde man appeared in a burst of radiant light, his body spinning uncontrollably for a moment before landing with a heavy THUD! on the damp, mossy ground of the forest. He crumpled into a heap, gasping for air as if he had just been dragged from the depths of a freezing lake. Each breath was a ragged, desperate pull, his chest rising and falling in sharp, erratic motions. He clawed at the ground with trembling fingers, curling his hands into fists as though anchoring himself to the world to steady his frantic mind. "Damn it... damn it all..." he croaked, his voice hoarse and barely audible over the rush of blood pounding in his ears. Beads of sweat formed on his pale skin, dripping down his temples as he tried to force his lungs to obey him. "That... thing¡­ that monster..." The memory of the hulking Orc flashed before his mind''s eye, a towering wall of muscle and rage that seemed impervious to anything. His heart raced at the thought, sending fresh waves of panic through his already taxed body. He clutched his chest, doubling over as another jagged breath escaped his lips. "That wasn''t... normal. That wasn''t normal!" For what felt like an eternity, the blonde man lay there, his breathing shallow and uneven, his golden curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. He tilted his head up slightly, staring at the canopy of trees above, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze. The calm of the forest around him was at odds with the storm raging in his chest. He finally managed to roll onto his back, his breaths becoming slightly steadier. "An Orc... from the Valley of Orcs," he whispered, his voice trembling. "There''s no other explanation. It was... too strong. Too resilient. It wasn''t just a regular brute. No, it must''ve been one of their warriors¡ªor worse, a chieftain." He propped himself up on his elbows, his muscles aching with the effort. "I was lucky to escape. Lucky..." His words trailed off as he stared into the distance, his expression darkening. "But why was it there? That''s not their territory. The Valley of Orcs is leagues away. What could''ve brought one so far?" As he muttered to himself, his mind raced with comparisons, drawing on every scrap of information he''d ever learned about the Valley of Orcs and its denizens. "Their strength... it''s said to be unparalleled. Even among the higher ranks, no human knight has ever bested one in single combat. And their resilience... their skin alone is thick enough to turn aside blades and arrows like rain on stone." He closed his eyes, the image of Volk''s unflinching face seared into his memory. "And that one... it didn''t even notice the Tier Five spell. It was as if¡ªno, it was something else entirely." His breathing finally began to slow, his body sinking deeper into the soft earth beneath him. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts threatening to consume him. "I need to report this... to Father. He''ll know what to do. He must." Chapter 211 Foreboding feeling Summoning his strength, the blonde man pushed himself to his feet, his legs wobbling like a newborn fawn''s.He placed a hand on a nearby tree for support, his golden curls catching the faint sunlight filtering through the leaves. After steadying himself, he straightened and began brushing off his clothing, his expression tightening into one of resolve. "Father will know," he muttered again, as though repeating it would solidify it as truth. He adjusted his coat, took a deep breath, and started forward, his steps quickening. But after just a few strides, he froze mid-step, his entire body going rigid as his eyes widened in shock. "No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hand instinctively reached for his chest, as if clutching at something that was no longer there. A wave of cold realization washed over him. The connection. The faint thread of magical energy that bound him to his hounds¡ªtheir lifeblood and loyalty intertwined with his own¡ªwas gone. It wasn''t just distant or weak. It was severed. Completely severed. "They''re... dead?" His voice trembled, disbelief thick in every syllable. He took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, no. That can''t be. They... they wouldn''t. They couldn''t. Not both of them." He stumbled against the tree behind him, his mind racing. "What could''ve... No, it doesn''t matter. They were supposed to buy me time. But for the connection to be severed... so quickly..." His eyes darted wildly, as if searching for an answer in the shadows of the trees. The weight of the realization bore down on him, sending a chill through his spine. "That... monster," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It must''ve caught them. And if it caught them..." He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "It''s coming for me." The blonde man reached into his coat with trembling hands, fumbling for the magic teleportation scroll. His breath hitched as he pulled it out, the familiar texture of the enchanted parchment giving him a flicker of hope. "Let me make this work again," he muttered to himself, his voice shaky but determined. "Hmmm." Unrolling the scroll, he focused his energy on the intricate runes etched onto its surface, chanting the activation words under his breath. The air around him began to hum softly, faint sparks of light flickering around the edges of the scroll. Stay tuned to empire But then¡ªFZZZZZT! The hum sputtered out abruptly, leaving only an eerie silence. The scroll disintegrated into ash in his hands, the magical energy dissipating into the air like a dying gasp. "What?!" he screamed, staring at his empty palms in disbelief. "No, no, no!" He clenched his fists, crushing the remaining ashes, and threw them to the ground in frustration. His golden curls fell across his face as he bent over, seething. "Damn it all to the Abyss!" The blonde man paced in frantic circles, muttering to himself. "Why didn''t it work? Did I use too much mana earlier? Was the scroll defective and can only be used once? Damn those merchants and their faulty goods!" His voice rose with each word, his anger bubbling over. But then, just as quickly as his rage flared, he stopped. He took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to calm down. "No... I can''t panic. Not now." He ran a hand through his hair, straightening his posture. "Why am I rushing? That Orc... It can''t possibly find me. Not without the hounds. They''re dead now, so the trail ends with them." Reassuring himself, the blonde man let out a shaky laugh, his body relaxing slightly. He dropped to the ground in a slouch, leaning back against the thick trunk of a tree. The forest floor was damp and cool, a stark contrast to the firestorm of nerves still simmering within him. He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky through the canopy of leaves. "I''m fine. I''m safe." He closed his eyes, letting the stillness of the forest seep into him. "That Orc might be strong, but it''s just a brute. No intelligence. It probably doesn''t even know where to start looking now that the hounds are gone." For a moment, he allowed himself to relax, the tension draining from his limbs. A strange emptiness filled him, though, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Something felt... off. Something was missing. "What is this?" he whispered, clutching his chest as if trying to locate the source of the unease. The absence of his hounds weighed heavily on him, like losing a piece of himself. "Tch, useless sentimentality," he muttered, shaking his head. "They were just tools. Replaceable. Nothing more." Refocusing his thoughts, he sat up straighter, his expression hardening. "No matter. This could still work to my advantage. I''ll return to Father and report everything. That Orc is valuable¡ªfar more than I realized." A sinister smile curled at his lips as the gears in his mind began to turn. "Yes, once we capture it, it''ll make the perfect slave. Enslavement magic can bind even the strongest creatures if done right. And with its power, it''ll be unstoppable under our control." The blonde man''s eyes glinted with a cruel light as he leaned back against the tree, picturing his imagined future. The Orc, bound and shackled, its immense strength turned into a weapon at his family''s command. He could already hear the praise his father would lavish upon him. "Yes," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "We''ll make it kneel." The blonde man leaned back against the tree, his smirk still lingering as he envisioned the glory that awaited him. His thoughts drifted to the Orc, its massive frame bound in chains, kneeling before his father''s court. He could already feel the weight of his father''s approving gaze, the pride in his voice as he praised his cunning. "Yes," he whispered again, almost dreamily. "This will all be worth it. That brute will serve us... and it will serve me." But then, like a creeping shadow, a sensation began to settle over him¡ªa subtle but undeniable feeling of wrongness. It started as a faint prickling at the back of his neck, like the sensation of being watched. He frowned, the smirk fading from his lips as his fingers drummed against his knee. "What is this...?" he muttered, sitting up straight. His golden hair fell into his face as he tilted his head, trying to listen to the forest around him. It was quiet, too quiet. The usual symphony of chirping insects and rustling leaves was absent, replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. The unease deepened, spreading through his chest like a cold fog. He clutched his shirt, his heartbeat quickening. "No, no, I''m overthinking it. The hounds are gone. But I''m sure the Orc can''t track me. I''m safe, like always..." He said the words aloud, as if hearing them would make them true. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But the feeling didn''t go away. Instead, it grew stronger, an almost physical weight pressing down on him. His thoughts began to spiral, racing through every detail of his escape. The teleportation spell had worked perfectly; he had landed far enough away. The hounds had sacrificed themselves, ensuring no one could follow their trail. So why did it feel like something was closing in on him? The blonde man stood abruptly, pacing back and forth. His boots crunched against the damp leaves as he muttered to himself, his voice low and frantic. "Think, think! What am I missing? The Orc can''t possibly know where I am. It''s impossible. The hounds took care of that. And yet..." His mind flickered back to the moment the hounds had died. He had felt it¡ªa sudden severing of their connection, as sharp and final as the snap of a thread. Their loyalty had been absolute, their deaths a testament to their devotion. So why did their sacrifice feel... hollow? Chapter 212 Gauntlet Equipped "No," the blonde man said firmly, shaking his head."I''m just shaken up. That''s all. That monster caught me off guard, but it''s not invincible. It can''t be. I''m overthinking it." He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. But as he tried to calm his nerves, the feeling of wrongness only intensified. It clawed at the edges of his mind, whispering insidious doubts. His pacing quickened, his movements erratic as he tugged at his hair in frustration. "What is it?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty forest. "What am I missing?" And then it hit him. Explore hidden tales at empire His eyes widened, the color draining from his face as realization struck. His breath caught in his throat, and his body went rigid. "The slaves..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. The memory came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. The two women, trembling in fear as they cowered before the Orc. Their ragged clothes, their desperate expressions. He had dismissed them as irrelevant, mere background noise in the chaos of his escape. But now, the image of their faces burned in his mind, their wide eyes filled with terror. "No," he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to banish the thought. "It can''t be. They wouldn''t... they couldn''t..." But the doubt was already there, gnawing at him like a relentless parasite. "They were slaves," he reasoned aloud, his voice tinged with desperation. "Barbarians, uneducated, terrified. There''s no way they would have followed me. They''d have run as far away from that Orc as possible. Wouldn''t they?" The silence of the forest offered no reassurance. The blonde man''s pacing resumed, his steps more frantic than before. His mind raced, replaying every detail of the encounter. He remembered how the Orc had spared them, how it had allowed them to leave. Why? Why would a creature of such brute strength and savagery let two helpless slaves go free? Unless... His breath hitched as the pieces began to fall into place. The Orc wasn''t just a mindless beast. It had let the slaves go for a reason. "Damn it!" he hissed, slamming his fist against a tree. The bark splintered under the force of the blow, but he barely felt the pain. "Those wretched women! They must have followed me! That''s the only explanation!" He clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists. "They''re guiding it. Leading it straight to me." Panic surged through him, his earlier confidence crumbling like ash. If the Orc was tracking him, then time was no longer on his side. He needed to act¡ªand fast. The blonde man''s breath hitched, and a cold sweat ran down his back as he saw the shadow loom over him. His body went rigid, his heart hammering like a drum in his chest. No, no, no... His instincts screamed at him to flee, to get as far away as possible. Without daring to turn around, he stepped forward, his trembling legs dragging his body one shaky step at a time. But as he prepared to break into a sprint, something clamped around him¡ªa massive, unyielding force that made him feel like a child caught in the grasp of a giant. "AHHH!" the blonde man screamed, his body hoisted effortlessly off the ground. His feet dangled helplessly, and his stomach dropped as he was spun around to face his captor. His widened eyes met Volk''s, and the sight made his blood run cold. Volk''s massive form loomed over him, the dim light of the forest casting shadows across his hulking frame. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His piercing gaze locked onto the blonde man with a mixture of satisfaction and irritation. "Finally," Volk rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, like the growl of an earthquake. The blonde man could only gape, his mind scrambling for a way out of this nightmare. And then it happened. Ding! A translucent notification appeared before Volk''s eyes: | Mission Complete: Capture the Blonde Man. | Reward: Radioactive Magic Gauntlet unlocked. | Failure Penalty: All-Seeing Eyes Deactivated. | Status: SUCCESS. | Volk''s lips twitched into a smirk as he read the notification. The system had delivered its promise. He had his target. The blonde man, however, saw none of this. His panic overwhelmed him, and he did what he did best: talk. "Y-you ogre! Unhand me this instant!" he screeched, his voice cracking as he flailed uselessly in Volk''s iron grip. "Do you have any idea who I am? Do you even know what you''ve done? You''ve just made the worst mistake of your miserable, brutish life!" Volk arched a brow, his grip tightening slightly. "I am Maxillian Geisler, the third son of Baron Geisler! My father is the lord of this region, a man of unparalleled power and influence! "If you lay even a single finger on me¡ªwait, you already did! No, no, it''s fine! Let''s start over! Just put me down and I''ll forget this ever happened! Yes, that''s it!" Volk didn''t move, his expression unreadable. The blonde man¡ªMaxillian¡ªcontinued, his words tumbling out in a frantic stream. "You don''t understand! My father commands armies! Legions of knights! Mages who could incinerate you with a mere thought! If you hurt me, they will come for you! "They will find you, wherever you hide, and they will make you regret the day you dared to cross the Geisler name!" Still, Volk said nothing, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And let''s not forget my brothers!" Maxillian pressed on, his voice rising with desperation. "My eldest brother, Victor, is a master swordsman! He''s defeated dragons, for crying out loud! And my other brother, Julius, is a warlock who has summoned demons to fight at his side! "You''re done for, ogre! Done for, I tell you! But! But! There''s still a chance! If you release me now, I''ll¡ª" Maxillian''s words faltered as he felt something strange. The massive hands holding him¡ªno, the right hand¡ªbegan to change. The rough, calloused skin of Volk''s palm shimmered, an eerie metallic hue spreading across it like liquid metal. "What... what is that?" Maxillian stammered, his eyes fixated on the transformation. Volk glanced at his hand, his expression shifting to curiosity. A green, radioactive glow began to emanate from his palm, spreading up his forearm as the system activated. The metallic surface solidified into a sleek, armored gauntlet that fit Volk''s hand perfectly, as if it had been crafted just for him. The glow pulsed with a faint hum, casting an otherworldly light on the surroundings. Ding! | Radioactive Magic Gauntlet equipped. | The gauntlet crackled with raw energy, faint wisps of green radiation spiraling from its surface. Volk flexed his fingers experimentally, the gauntlet responding seamlessly to his movements. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Looks like I''ve got something new," he rumbled. Maxillian, however, was far from amused. His face paled as he stared at the glowing gauntlet. "W-wait a minute... what are you doing? No, no, NO! Put me down! I mean it!" Volk turned his attention back to his captive, his grip tightening ever so slightly. Maxillian yelped, his arms flailing as he tried to squirm free. "Let''s see if this thing works," Volk mused, more to himself than anyone else. "No! Don''t you dare!" Maxillian shrieked. "I''m warning you¡ª" CRACK! The sound of bones shattering echoed through the forest as Volk''s grip unintentionally tightened too much. Maxillian''s body went limp, his wide eyes frozen in a look of utter disbelief. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth as his head lolled to the side. Volk blinked, releasing the blonde man''s lifeless body, which crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll. "Huh," Volk muttered, examining the gauntlet. "Guess I don''t know my own strength." Chapter 213 Baron Territory In the sprawling halls of Baron Geisler''s mansion, a meeting room bristled with tension.A grand table stretched the length of the chamber, its surface polished to a mirror-like shine. Surrounding it were advisors, military strategists, and key members of the household. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and the faint tang of wine, but even these luxuries couldn''t mask the anxiety permeating the room. The Baron himself, a towering figure with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, sat at the head of the table. His piercing gray eyes swept across the room, scrutinizing every face as if daring anyone to speak out of turn. Despite his formidable presence, his brow was furrowed in thought, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as the discussions raged around him. "This kingdom is fracturing," one advisor began, a wiry man with spectacles perched on his nose. His voice was sharp, cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "The king''s failure to name a successor has thrown the realm into chaos. The princes are gathering their allies, and if we delay our decision any longer, we risk being left in the cold." "Left in the cold?" Another man, broader and red-faced, slammed his fist onto the table. "Do you think we''re some minor house to be overlooked? We are Geisler! A barony of strength, with lands that feed half the western province! Any prince would grovel for our support!" "But at what cost?" a woman countered, her voice calm but firm. She was dressed in flowing robes, her sharp green eyes betraying a keen intellect. "Throwing our lot in with the wrong prince could be disastrous. If they lose, the victor will strip us of our titles and lands. We must choose wisely." "Prince Aldric has the largest army," another advisor chimed in, his voice measured. "He''s young, yes, but his forces are disciplined, and his coffers are deep. Aligning with him would secure our position." "But what of Prince Leander?" the spectacled man interjected. "He may lack Aldric''s numbers, but his alliances with the mage guilds make him a formidable contender. A single battalion of battlemages could devastate an entire army." "And then there''s Prince Orlan," the broad-shouldered man muttered. "Cunning bastard, that one. He doesn''t fight with swords or magic¡ªhe fights with whispers. He''s already turned half the nobility against each other. Backing him might keep our heads on our shoulders." The room descended into a cacophony of arguments, voices rising and overlapping as each advisor championed their preferred candidate. The Baron listened in silence, his expression unreadable. Finally, he raised a hand, and the room fell silent. "We will not rush into this decision," he said, his voice a low rumble that commanded attention. "The Geisler name carries weight. We will not squander it by pledging fealty to a prince without careful consideration. "Continue gathering intelligence. I want to know their movements, their strategies, their weaknesses. Only then will we decide." "But, my lord," the woman in robes pressed gently, "time is of the essence. Every moment we delay, the balance of power shifts. Already, reports suggest that Aldric''s forces are advancing toward the central plains." "Let them march," the Baron said with a dismissive wave. "Aldric seeks to intimidate his rivals, but he cannot win the throne with brute force alone. This game is not won on the battlefield¡ªit is won in the shadows, with alliances and betrayals." The discussion shifted to logistics: the state of the barony''s army, the condition of the treasury, and the political maneuverings of neighboring lords. The advisors debated fiercely, their voices rising and falling like waves crashing against a cliff. "We must also consider the smaller factions," someone pointed out. "The minor lords and barons like ourselves. A united coalition could tip the scales in any prince''s favor. If we act as mediators¡ª" "Mediators?" scoffed the broad-shouldered man. "That''s a role for cowards. We are not fence-sitters. When we act, we act decisively." As the argument continued, the tension in the room grew palpable. The weight of their decision hung over them like a storm cloud, each advisor acutely aware of the stakes. Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door cut through the heated debate. The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward the entrance. "Enter," the Baron commanded, his voice tinged with irritation. The heavy oak door creaked open, and an attendant stepped inside, his face pale and his eyes wide with urgency. He bowed deeply before addressing the room. "My lord," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "Forgive the interruption, but... something has happened." The Baron''s eyes narrowed. "Speak." The attendant swallowed hard, his gaze flickering nervously across the gathered advisors. "It''s the pendant, my lord. The pendant of the young master Maxillian... it... it has shattered." A heavy silence fell over the room, the implications of the attendant''s words sinking in like a stone thrown into a still pond. All eyes turned to the Baron, whose expression darkened like an approaching storm. Baron Geisler''s chair scraped violently against the floor as he stood, his towering frame casting an imposing shadow over the trembling attendant. His eyes burned with fury, his thick salt-and-pepper beard quivering as his jaw clenched tightly. The room fell deathly silent, every advisor holding their breath as the Baron strode toward the terrified servant. Enjoy new tales from empire "You dare interrupt this meeting?" the Baron roared, his voice echoing through the grand chamber like thunder. His powerful hands grabbed the attendant by the collar, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The fine fabric of the servant''s tunic bunched in the Baron''s iron grip, choking the man slightly. "We are in the midst of deciding the fate of this barony! The future of our lands and people lies in these discussions, and you burst in with nonsense about a pendant? Are you a fool, or do you have a death wish?" The attendant''s legs dangled as he clawed weakly at the Baron''s wrist, his face turning red. "M-my lord, I¡ª" "Silence!" Geisler bellowed, shaking the man like a ragdoll. "Do you know what is at stake here? The kingdom teeters on the brink of war! Princes vie for power, alliances are forged and shattered in the shadows, and every baron, count, and duke is choosing sides! "If we misstep¡ªif we back the wrong prince¡ªwe lose everything! Our lands, our title, our lives! Do you understand that, you wretch?" The room''s occupants watched in stunned silence, their faces pale. No one dared intervene. "The people of this barony depend on us," Geisler continued, his voice a guttural snarl. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Every farmer in the fields, every soldier in the barracks, every merchant in the markets¡ªthey all look to me for protection and leadership! "I carry the weight of their lives on my shoulders! And you come here, interrupting this vital council, over some trinket? Do you think I have time for your idiotic ramblings?" The attendant choked out a desperate, garbled response, but the Baron wasn''t finished. "And let me remind you," he hissed, his face mere inches from the servant''s, "there is no danger in this barony. None! My forces patrol every road, every village, every forest. "Bandits fear us, monsters steer clear of our borders, and the rival lords know better than to provoke Geisler! "So tell me, you pathetic worm¡ªwhat in all the hells could possibly have happened to my son Maxillian that would shatter his pendant?" The Baron''s words hung in the air like the toll of a death knell. He pulled the servant closer, his free hand twitching as though ready to strike. Chapter 214 Gauntlet "I¡ªI don''t know!" the attendant stammered, his voice breaking with panic."My lord, I swear, I don''t know! The pendant¡ªit was fine just this morning! But now it''s... it''s shattered!" Geisler''s expression darkened further, his fury boiling over. He raised the servant higher, his massive arm bulging with effort. "You don''t know? You don''t know? Then what use are you to me? Perhaps I should crush your skull right now and save myself the trouble of hearing more of your drivel!" The attendant shrieked, his eyes wild with terror. "Wait! Please, my lord! Please! I can show you! The pendant¡ªit''s here! It''s here!" The Baron froze, his rage momentarily halted by the man''s frantic plea. He lowered the servant slightly, his grip still tight, and barked, "What do you mean, it''s here? Speak quickly, or I will send you to the afterlife without a second thought!" The servant fumbled at his belt, his hands shaking so badly that he nearly dropped the small leather pouch he was carrying. "I-I brought it, my lord! The pendant¡ªyour son''s pendant¡ªit''s inside!" Geisler''s eyes narrowed suspiciously. With a growl, he yanked the pouch from the servant''s hands and dropped the man unceremoniously to the floor. The servant crumpled, gasping for breath, as the Baron turned his attention to the pouch. Pulling it open, Geisler reached inside and withdrew the shattered remains of the pendant. His brow furrowed as he studied the fragments, his expression shifting from anger to confusion. The pendant''s once-perfect surface was now cracked and broken, its intricate design marred by jagged lines. The faint glow it had always emitted was gone, leaving it dull and lifeless. "What is this?" the Baron muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "This pendant was enchanted¡ªcrafted by the finest mages in the capital to ensure Maxillian''s safety. It was supposed to protect him, to warn us if he was in danger. How could it be shattered?" The room remained silent, the advisors too afraid to speak. Even the broad-shouldered man, usually unshakable, looked uneasy. Geisler clenched his fist around the pendant fragments, his knuckles turning white. "Something has happened to my son," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And I will find out what." ¡­ Meanwhile, amidst the grim stillness of the forest clearing, Lira and Mareen crouched beside the lifeless body of the fallen noble Maxillian. His fine clothes were now soiled with dirt and blood, his expression frozen in a mix of arrogance and terror. Your next journey awaits at empire The two women rummaged through his belongings, their hands trembling as they worked. "Here," Lira whispered, pulling out a folded parchment from a hidden compartment in his cloak. Her hands shook as she unfolded it. "A map... no, wait... there''s two of them." Mareen leaned closer, her face pale and her breathing uneven. "Two maps?" she repeated, her voice quivering. "Why would he carry two?" Lira shrugged, her nerves getting the better of her. "Does it matter? We just need to give it to him before he gets angry again." Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Mareen nodded reluctantly. Together, they turned toward Volk, who stood a short distance away, his attention fixed on the glowing metallic green gauntlet that had now fully enveloped his right arm. He flexed his fingers experimentally, the metal shifting and pulsing with a faint radioactive hum. The faint glow illuminated his rugged, battle-scarred face, casting eerie shadows across his tusks and crimson eyes. "Um... Volk?" Lira called hesitantly. Her voice wavered, but she managed to catch his attention. Volk turned his head slowly, his piercing gaze locking onto them. The two women flinched under his scrutinizing stare, the weight of his presence making them feel small and insignificant. "What do you want?" Volk growled, his deep voice reverberating through the clearing. Mareen held up the two maps with trembling hands. "W-we found these," she stammered. "There''s a large-scale map... and a smaller, detailed one. Which do you want?" Volk''s eyes narrowed as he considered their words. After a moment, he let out a derisive snort. "Obviously, the large-scale one," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Why would I waste my time on something small and useless?" The two women exchanged nervous glances before carefully handing over the larger map. Mareen''s fingers brushed against Volk''s clawed hand as she passed it to him, and she recoiled as though burned. Volk smirked, his sharp teeth glinting in the faint light. "Go," he commanded, his voice cold and dismissive. "You''ve done your part. I don''t need you anymore." Lira and Mareen hesitated for a moment, their fear anchoring them in place. But when Volk''s eyes narrowed dangerously, they quickly turned and fled, their footsteps crunching against the forest floor as they disappeared into the trees. Volk let out a low chuckle, his amusement echoing in the silence. Unfolding the map, he studied its intricate details, his smirk widening. "This will make things easier," he muttered to himself, tucking it away into his belt. His gaze then shifted back to the gauntlet. The radioactive glow had grown stronger, the metal feeling almost alive as it pulsed in sync with his heartbeat. He raised his hand, admiring the lethal beauty of his newfound weapon. "Let''s see what this thing can do," Volk said, his voice low and filled with anticipation. He clenched his fist, and suddenly¡ª BOOM! A deafening explosion erupted from the gauntlet, sending a shockwave rippling through the forest. Trees nearby shuddered, their leaves trembling violently as if in fear of the power unleashed. Volk laughed, "HAHHAHAHAHA!" the sound guttural and raw. "Boom! Boom! Boom!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist into the ground repeatedly. Each strike sent out another devastating burst of energy, the ground quaking beneath him. Craters formed where his fist landed, the forest floor splitting apart with violent cracks. The radioactive energy surged through him, feeding his strength and amplifying his already terrifying power. Volk''s laughter echoed through the woods, a sound of triumph and unrelenting ferocity. With one final strike, he stood, the forest around him now eerily silent save for the faint hum of the gauntlet. "Not bad," Volk muttered, a grin spreading across his face. "Not bad at all." He turned in the direction marked on the map, his crimson eyes gleaming with determination. "But this is not enough." Chapter 215 Worm Snake Volk crouched low to the ground, his massive hands digging into the soil with relentless force.Each scoop of earth seemed easier than the last, the radioactive magic in his gauntlet humming with purpose. The more he dug, the more he felt connected to the strange, pulsing energy within the gauntlet. "Ground Burrower," Volk muttered to himself, the words appearing in his mind as though whispered by the gauntlet itself. He could feel its intent¡ªthis wasn''t just a weapon of destruction. It was a tool of dominance over the very terrain itself. He dug deeper, the soil flying around him in great clumps. The sensation of the gauntlet adapting and learning from his actions filled him with a strange sense of exhilaration. It was as if the weapon had a mind of its own, and it thrived on his aggression. Suddenly, Volk froze. His instincts screamed at him, warning him of something lurking beneath. The ground beneath him trembled slightly, and a faint, guttural sound¡ªlike the grinding of stone¡ªreverberated through the earth. "What now?" Volk growled, his crimson eyes narrowing. Without hesitation, he continued digging, his massive fists striking deeper into the ground. The gauntlet pulsed with radioactive light, carving through the layers of dirt like a knife through butter. Then he saw it¡ªa glimpse of something pale and smooth, writhing in the dirt below. It was massive, its segmented body glistening like wet marble under the faint glow of the gauntlet. "A worm?" Volk mused, tilting his head. "Or something worse?" Without waiting for an answer, Volk slammed his gauntlet down onto the creature''s body. CRACK! The impact sent a tremor through the ground, and the massive white worm squirmed violently, its body contorting in pain. The creature let out a wet, guttural shriek that seemed to echo through the burrow. "Hah!" Volk barked out a laugh, his tusks glinting as he grinned. "You don''t like that, do you?" He slammed his gauntlet down again, this time with even greater force. BOOM! The worm convulsed, thrashing so violently that chunks of dirt and rock were flung into the air. Its movements were erratic, like it was trying to retreat but couldn''t escape Volk''s relentless assault. Volk felt a surge of ecstasy as he continued his assault. Each punch sent a jolt of energy through his arm, the gauntlet feeding off his brutality. The ground beneath him shook with every blow, the worm''s pained shrieks like music to his ears. "Squirm, you slimy thing!" Volk shouted, his voice filled with savage glee. He struck again. WHAM! This time, the worm''s body twitched in spasms, leaving faint streaks of luminescent fluid oozing from the damaged segments. But then, the trembling stopped. Volk paused, his gauntlet still glowing as he stared at the worm''s battered body. The air grew thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint dripping of its strange, glowing fluid. Then, the ground directly in front of him split apart with a deafening roar. RIIIIIIIIP! A massive head burst forth from the earth, revealing itself in full. It was serpent-like, with milky-white scales covering its elongated face. Two gleaming black eyes locked onto Volk with unmistakable hatred, and its mouth opened to reveal rows of jagged, glistening teeth. The creature hissed, its voice a blend of fury and pain. Volk''s smirk returned, wider than ever. "Finally," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Something worth fighting." Volk stood his ground, staring down the massive worm-like serpent as it coiled and thrashed before him, its milky-white body smeared with glowing ichor from where his gauntlet had battered it. The air was thick with tension, the creature''s hissing filling the tunnel like the sound of steam escaping a broken pipe. The serpent lunged first, its jaw opening wide to reveal rows of needle-like teeth that glistened with venom. Volk dodged easily, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That all you''ve got?" he taunted, his voice echoing off the earthen walls. The creature slammed into the ground where he had stood, sending a spray of dirt and rocks in all directions. Volk leaped to the side, his massive frame moving with surprising agility. As he landed, he brought his gauntlet down onto the serpent''s side with a thunderous BOOM! The serpent shrieked, its body convulsing violently. Luminescent fluid sprayed from the wound, splattering against the walls and floor. Volk laughed, the sound deep and rumbling. "Weak," he muttered, shaking his head. The worm twisted its body, its tail whipping around like a massive club. It came at Volk with enough force to crush stone, but he raised his gauntlet and caught it mid-swing. The impact sent a shockwave through the tunnel, but Volk barely flinched. "Pathetic," he said, gripping the tail tightly. He swung the massive creature like a flail, slamming it into the walls and floor with reckless abandon. CRASH! BOOM! SMASH! Each impact sent chunks of earth and rock flying. The worm''s shrieks grew more desperate, its body writhing in futile attempts to escape. Volk finally released it, throwing it against the far wall with a deafening THUD! The creature lay there for a moment, dazed and barely moving. Volk walked toward it slowly, his heavy footsteps echoing ominously. "Come on," he said, rolling his shoulders. "I know you''ve got more fight in you." The serpent lifted its head weakly, its black eyes filled with a mix of hatred and fear. It lunged again, slower this time, its movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Volk sidestepped easily, slamming his fist into its head with a resounding CRACK! The creature crumpled to the ground, its body twitching. Volk crouched beside it, tilting his head as he studied it. "Is that it?" he asked, his tone mocking. "I was hoping for more." The worm hissed weakly, its body coiling in on itself as if trying to shield itself from him. Volk chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "You''re not even worth killing," he said, standing up. "But I''m not done with you yet." He grabbed the creature by its tail, dragging it across the ground like a sack of grain. The worm thrashed feebly, its strength all but gone. Volk swung it around again, slamming it into the walls and floor with reckless abandon. WHAM! BAM! CRASH! The tunnel shook with each impact, dust and debris raining down from above. The serpent''s shrieks grew quieter, its movements weaker. Volk finally let it go, tossing it to the ground like a discarded toy. Enjoy exclusive adventures from empire The creature lay there, its body battered and broken. It let out a low, pitiful hiss, its black eyes dimming. Volk crouched beside it once more, his smirk replaced by a look of mild boredom. "You''re lucky I''m in a good mood," he said, tapping the serpent''s head with his gauntlet. "I''ll let you go. But next time¡­" He leaned in closer, his crimson eyes glowing with menace. "You''d better be stronger." The serpent hisses weakly, its body trembling as it tries to slither away. Volk watched it go, his smirk returning. "Pathetic," he muttered, shaking his head. He stood up, flexing his gauntlet-clad hand. The radioactive glow pulsed faintly, as if responding to his thoughts. "Let''s see what else is out there," Volk said to himself, turning and walking deeper into the tunnel. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 216 Tracking Meanwhile, on the other side, the scene was grim as Baron Geisler and his squad of knights approached the site where Maxillian''s mangled body lay sprawled.The air was thick with the acrid scent of death, mingled with the damp musk of disturbed earth. The knights, clad in gleaming silver armor adorned with the sigil of the Geisler house¡ªa snarling wolf beneath a crescent moon¡ªspread out in a disciplined formation. Each step they took was deliberate, their boots crunching against the dirt with a sound that reverberated in the eerie stillness. Baron Geisler dismounted his jet-black steed with practiced ease, his sharp eyes scanning the area. Despite the sight of his son''s twisted and lifeless form, his expression remained stony and detached. His face, angular and lined with the marks of a man accustomed to command, betrayed no flicker of emotion. "Secure the perimeter," he ordered in a cold, measured tone. "Yes, my lord," the knights replied in unison, spreading out to ensure there were no lurking dangers. Geisler approached the body, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. He stood over his son''s corpse, his shadow falling across the bloodied and broken form. Maxillian''s once-proud noble attire was now shredded, the fabric soaked in crimson. The young man''s face, though pale and lifeless, still bore a trace of his last expression¡ªshock and terror. One of the knights, a seasoned veteran named Sir Aldred, knelt beside the body, examining it with a clinical precision that matched his lord''s demeanor. He lifted the shattered remnants of Maxillian''s pendant, its magical energy long since dissipated. "My lord," Aldred began, his voice steady, "the pendant''s destruction indicates he was likely killed by an overwhelming force. The magical feedback alone suggests the assailant''s power was far beyond what Maxillian could withstand." Geisler gave a faint nod, his gaze shifting to the ground around the body. The earth was deeply gouged, as though something massive had been dragged across it. Faint footprints¡ªlarge, irregular, and inhuman¡ªwere visible in the disturbed dirt. "Continue," Geisler said simply. Aldred gestured to the footprints, his brow furrowing. "These tracks¡­ they belong to a monstrous humanoid, possibly an ogre or a variant thereof. The sheer size and depth suggest incredible physical strength. The spacing indicates it carried a significant weight, perhaps a weapon or a person." Another knight, a younger man named Sir Deyric, stepped forward, pointing toward smaller, lighter footprints nearby. "These belong to two women," he said. "Their strides are uneven¡ªshorter and hesitant. They were likely moving under duress, perhaps as captives or unwilling companions." "Notice the pattern here," Aldred added, gesturing to the footprints. "The humanoid moved ahead with purpose, while the women''s paths show hesitation, suggesting fear or reluctance." Geisler remained silent, his gaze sweeping the area. The knights continued their investigation, meticulously piecing together the story written in the earth. Deyric crouched near a patch of trampled grass and plucked a small scrap of fabric from a thorny bush. The cloth was rough and dyed with natural pigments. He held it up to Aldred, who inspected it closely. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "This fabric is crude," Aldred noted. "It''s woven from wild fibers, not the refined textiles of a city. These women are likely from one of the tribal territories, not an urban center." Deyric nodded. "Their bare footprints also suggest they come from a tribal background. The lack of shoes and the callused patterns on their soles are indicative of those who live in untamed environments." Geisler finally spoke, his voice cutting through the murmurs of his knights like a blade. "A tribal connection complicates matters. The tribes have no allegiance to the crown, making it difficult to ascertain their motivations. Were they abducted? Or are they accomplices to this creature?" Aldred stood, his armor clinking softly. "It''s unclear, my lord. But their presence here, with such a creature, suggests an unusual dynamic. We''ll need more evidence to determine their role." Geisler turned his attention to the horizon, his piercing gaze scanning the distant woods. "What of the path forward?" Deyric pointed to faint drag marks leading away from the scene. "The creature carried something¡ªor someone¡ªaway from here. These tracks are erratic, as though it moved at great speed. It''s heading toward the eastern forest." Geisler''s lips tightened into a thin line. "And the creature itself?" Aldred gestured to the claw marks and blood smears around the area. "Judging by the brutality of this scene and the signs of a struggle, the creature possesses not only immense strength but also a sadistic streak. It toys with its prey, taking pleasure in their suffering." The baron''s gaze darkened. "This beast killed my son, left him in the dirt like refuse, and now flees deeper into the wilderness. Yet it was accompanied by two women, likely tribes folk, who may hold the key to understanding its motives." Suddenly, a panicked voice broke the silence. "My lord!" The knights turned to see another attendant rushing toward them, holding something in his trembling hands. Geisler stepped forward, his expression hardening. The attendant fell to his knees, presenting a shattered piece of metal¡ªit was part of Maxillian''s enchanted pendant. "My lord," he stammered, "this was found near the body. It¡ªit''s as though the pendant was¡­ torn apart from within." Geisler took the broken fragment, his gloved fingers tightening around it. His expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of something¡ªanger, perhaps¡ªpassed through his eyes. "Prepare the men," he commanded. "We move east at first light. This creature will not escape my justice." "Yes, my lord!" the knights replied in unison, their voices resolute. Geisler turned back to his son''s lifeless form, his gaze lingering for a moment before he mounted his horse. Without another word, he spurred the animal forward, his knights falling into formation behind him. Not long, the group halted abruptly, the air heavy with the weight of their investigation. Sir Aldred knelt again, scrutinizing the diverging sets of footprints. His gloved hand hovered over the lighter impressions, tracing their delicate but deliberate path. "My lord," Aldred began, his voice measured yet edged with curiosity, "the tracks of the two women veer off here." He gestured toward a trail that led toward denser woods, where the foliage seemed to clutch at the ground with greedy fingers. "They appear to have split from the larger tracks. Perhaps they''ve fled the creature¡­ or were released." Baron Geisler remained on horseback, his posture rigid yet commanding. His cold eyes followed Aldred''s gesture, lingering on the faint impressions of bare feet. "And the creature?" Geisler asked, his voice like the scrape of steel against stone. "The larger tracks head east, deeper into the wilderness," Deyric responded, pointing to the gouges in the dirt. "The depth of these impressions and the way the ground is churned suggest it''s moving quickly¡ªpurposefully. "It''s carrying something or someone, though the drag marks are inconsistent. It may be encumbered but not significantly slowed." The knights exchanged glances, their unspoken question lingering in the air: Which path to follow? Aldred rose, brushing the dirt from his knee and turning to Geisler. "My lord," he began cautiously, "we have two trails before us. If we pursue the women, they may offer answers, perhaps even a connection to this creature. However¡ª" Geisler interrupted him with a raised hand, his expression unchanging. "No!" Chapter 217 Incoming "No."The knights fell silent, their eyes fixed on their lord. Geisler dismounted his horse, his boots crunching against the earth as he strode forward. He stopped near the larger tracks, staring down at the deep indentations as though they were a personal affront. He clasped his hands behind his back, his fingers tightening around his wrist. When he spoke, his voice was calm, deliberate, yet brimming with an icy intensity that sent a chill through his men. "We follow the beast," Geisler declared. "These women are irrelevant. They are pawns in a game far greater than their insignificant lives. If they survive, they may return to their tribes, but their role here is finished." He turned to Aldred, his gaze hard and unyielding. "Do you think I care for their motives? For their survival? No. I care only for the creature that crushed my son¡ªmy blood. Maxillian may have been young, arrogant, even reckless, but he was mine. "This monster dared to challenge the honor of House Geisler, and for that, it will pay in blood." Geisler paused, his hand gesturing toward the east. "We march forward. Every step it takes is a step closer to its reckoning. If it believes it can escape, it is mistaken. My son''s life will not be reduced to a fleeting memory in the dirt. I will ensure that the last thing this creature sees is my blade." The knights straightened, their resolve steeling in the presence of their lord''s cold fury. "Yes, my lord," they said in unison, their voices firm. With that, Geisler mounted his horse again, spurring it forward along the larger trail. The knights followed in a disciplined line, their armor clinking softly as they moved. Hours passed as they traversed the rugged terrain. The eastern woods grew darker, the trees towering overhead like silent sentinels. The path became more treacherous, the ground uneven and riddled with roots that clawed at their boots. Enjoy exclusive content from empire Yet Geisler''s resolve never wavered. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his thoughts consumed by vengeance. Suddenly, a low rumble echoed through the forest, causing the knights to halt. The sound grew louder, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to shake the ground itself. From the shadows ahead, a massive figure emerged¡ªa snake-like worm, its pale, segmented body glistening with viscous slime. Its eyeless head swayed as it hissed, revealing rows of serrated teeth that dripped with venom. "Prepare yourselves," Aldred commanded, drawing his sword. The knights formed a defensive line, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. The worm lunged, its gaping maw snapping toward the nearest knight. But these were no ordinary men; they were Geisler''s elite. "Strike true!" Aldred bellowed. The knights moved with precision, their blades slicing through the worm''s flesh. The creature shrieked, its segmented body thrashing violently. Green ichor sprayed from its wounds, but the knights pressed on, their attacks coordinated and relentless. Geisler watched from horseback, his expression unchanging. "It''s merely an obstacle," he muttered to himself. "Nothing more." With a final, guttural scream, the worm collapsed, its body convulsing before falling still. The knights stood over its carcass, their armor splattered with its blood, their breaths coming in sharp gasps. "Onward," Geisler ordered, his tone as cold as ever. "This beast is nothing compared to what lies ahead." The knights nodded, falling back into formation as they resumed their march. The trail of the monstrous humanoid awaited, and with it, the promise of vengeance. ¡­ The dense canopy of the forest loomed over Volk as he continued his relentless excavation, digging deeper into the earth with the precision of a predator stalking prey. His green-skinned muscles rippled as the radioactive gauntlet pulsed with energy, effortlessly breaking through the soil and roots that would have hindered any ordinary being. The vibrations from his efforts echoed faintly in the forest, a steady thud-thud-thud that seemed to meld with the natural rhythms of the wild. He exhaled deeply, his breath misting in the cool air. The work was exhilarating, yet taxing. Dirt and grime smeared his face, but there was a satisfaction in the simplicity of the task. Volk paused for a moment, leaning on the gauntlet as it emitted a faint, ominous hum. "Phew," he muttered to himself, glancing at the roughened skin of his other hand. His brow glistened with sweat, and he instinctively raised his arm to wipe it away. But then he froze. The gauntlet¡ªthe radioactive beast encasing his arm¡ªwas still active. Its metallic green sheen glimmered faintly in the filtered sunlight. Volk''s instincts screamed at him to tread carefully. A single careless motion could turn the smallest graze into something catastrophic. The energy radiating from the gauntlet wasn''t just dangerous; it was unpredictable. Volk pulled back his arm slowly, almost reverently, as if appeasing a temperamental deity. His eyes narrowed, studying the intricate patterns etched into the metal. Tiny arcs of green electricity crackled along its surface, a constant reminder of the power it held. He clenched his jaw, his focus razor-sharp. With his free hand, he reached into a small leather pouch tied to his waist and withdrew a tattered cloth. Carefully, with deliberate movements, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, his muscles coiled as if expecting an explosion. The gauntlet buzzed faintly in response to the proximity of his hand, but Volk''s steady control kept it in check. "Easy," he muttered, his voice low and measured, like calming a feral beast. Each pass of the cloth was meticulous, ensuring no part of his skin brushed against the volatile weapon strapped to his arm. His breathing slowed, his heart steadying as he completed the task. When he was done, he let out a long, satisfied exhale. "There," he said with a smirk, tossing the cloth back into his pouch. "Can''t let a little sweat get in the way of perfection." He flexed his fingers experimentally, the gauntlet responding with a subtle hum. The power it offered was intoxicating, but Volk was no fool. He knew better than to let it control him. "It''s a tool," he muttered, as if reaffirming the thought to himself. "Not a master." Straightening up, he glanced at the churned earth around him. The digging was done, the ground beneath his feet now a chaotic mess of overturned soil and fractured roots. Volk grinned, his tusks glinting in the dappled light. "Well," he said, dusting off his hands, "that''s enough playtime. Exercise is done. Now¡­" He turned, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Time to find the horde." Suddenly, a chime echoed in his ears, a sharp, resonant ding that snapped him to attention. A translucent system screen materialized before him, its glowing text stark against the forest''s shadowy backdrop. --- DING! New Mission: Destroy the entire cavalry of Baron Geisler without turning into Radioactive Form. Rewards: Directions to each member of the Horde, including their wives. Failure: Gauntlet Disappearance. --- Volk''s eyes narrowed as he read the mission details. His grin faded, replaced by a contemplative frown. "So, they''re already on their way," he mused, cracking his neck. "Figures." He reread the mission, his gaze lingering on the conditions. No radioactive form? He snorted. "What''s the fun in that?" he muttered, flexing his gauntlet-clad hand. But then his lips curled into a smirk. "Guess it''s a good challenge." The stakes were high. The gauntlet had proven itself invaluable, and the thought of losing it wasn''t an option. His mind raced, piecing together a strategy. "Cavalry, huh?" he murmured, his grin widening. "Let''s see how they handle a little guerrilla warfare." Volk glanced at the path ahead, his senses sharpening. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Somewhere out there, Baron Geisler''s men were marching toward him, armed and ready. But they weren''t ready for Volk. With a final glance at the system screen, Volk clenched his fist, the gauntlet glowing faintly in response. "Let''s get to work," he said, his voice a low growl. Chapter 218 Choosing Path Volk''s heavy boots crunched against the ground as he marched onward, the gauntlet on his arm humming softly with latent energy.The forest around him began to thin out, giving way to a peculiar crossroads of terrains. He stopped abruptly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scanned the expanse before him. To his left, a sprawling forested area stretched as far as the eye could see. The canopy was dense, the undergrowth thick with tangled roots and shrubs. Shadows danced between the trees, making it both a haven for ambushes and a labyrinth for the unwary. Straight ahead lay a towering rock mountain, its jagged peaks clawing at the sky. The air grew colder as it loomed in the distance, its steep cliffs and loose scree presenting both a challenge and an opportunity. And to his right, an ominous underground cave yawned open, its entrance a black void that seemed to swallow the light. A faint, damp breeze wafted from its depths, carrying with it the faint stench of decay and something¡­ alive. Volk crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in thought. "Three paths," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "Each one could lead to either an advantage¡­ or my failure on the Mission." He turned his gaze back to the forested area, his sharp eyes scanning the treetops. Stay connected through empire The forest seemed like the most logical choice at first glance. It offered cover, natural barriers, and countless opportunities for ambushes. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "If it were just me," he muttered, tapping the gauntlet against his thigh, "I''d tear through them in there like a shadow in the night. The trees would block their sight, the undergrowth would slow their mounts, and I could pick them off one by one." He paused, his smirk fading. "But¡­" Volk shook his head, his expression darkening. "The cavalry isn''t stupid. They''re well-trained, and I''d wager they''re prepared for terrain like this. Hell, they might even see it as the most obvious place for me to go." He took a step closer to the edge of the forest, letting his hand brush against the rough bark of a tree. The forest felt alive, pulsing with the energy of countless creatures hidden within. For a moment, he entertained the idea of using the terrain to his advantage, but then his instincts screamed at him to reconsider. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "Forests are a trap, but not for them¡ªfor me." Volk began pacing, his boots leaving faint imprints in the dirt as he continued to speak aloud, reasoning with himself. "First," he said, holding up a finger, "they probably have incendiary weapons. That blonde brat I crushed was no simple soldier; he was a noble. If his father''s men are anything like him, they''ll come prepared to smoke me out." He glanced back at the forest, imagining it ablaze. "Doesn''t matter how thick the trees are. One spark, and the whole place becomes an inferno." He raised a second finger, his gaze narrowing further. "Second, it''s too predictable. If I can see the forest as a viable ambush point, they can too. They''d expect me to hide there, to use the shadows and the cover to my advantage. That means they''ll send scouts or even lure me into a trap of their own." Volk stopped pacing, turning back to the forest with a scowl. His gauntlet hummed softly, almost as if agreeing with his assessment. "Third," he growled, clenching his fist, "the forest is a double-edged sword. Sure, I can move quickly and strike from the shadows, but so can they. Cavalry might not navigate well in there, but infantry will. And if they''re smart¡ªand I''m betting they are¡ªthey''ll deploy both. I''d be surrounded in no time." He exhaled sharply, his breath misting slightly in the cool air. The forest, once appealing, now felt like a death trap waiting to spring shut. "Not worth it," he muttered, taking a step back from the treeline. "Too many variables. Too many ways to die." He turned his gaze toward the other two paths, his mind already weighing the pros and cons of each. But as he moved, he couldn''t help but glance back at the forest one last time. "Beautiful place," he said softly, almost wistfully. "Shame it''s useless to me right now." With that, Volk adjusted the gauntlet on his arm and turned away, his steps resolute as he prepared to choose another path. Soon, his eyes shifted from the forest to the dark, gaping maw of the underground cave to his right. The damp air wafting from its depths felt like the exhale of some ancient beast, heavy with moisture and laced with decay. He took a few steps closer, his boots crunching softly on the rocky ground. "Hmm¡­" He tilted his head, scrutinizing the cave entrance. "Underground¡­ A place to hide, maybe ambush, but¡­" He paused, running a gloved hand along the edge of the gauntlet. Its surface shimmered faintly in the dim light, its power humming softly as though attuned to his thoughts. His crimson eyes narrowed, and he let out a low grunt. "Something doesn''t sit right," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Caves have their advantages, sure. Narrow paths, low visibility¡ªforces them to fight me one-on-one." He smirked for a brief moment, imagining the cavalry''s helpless faces as they funneled into the cramped tunnels, only to be met with his raw power. But then his smirk faded. His instincts screamed against it. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "Caves aren''t just confined spaces. They''re traps¡ªworse than the forest." He turned to look at the entrance again, this time with a hint of disdain. "And if I''ve thought about using it, so have they." He began pacing again, his heavy footfalls echoing faintly. His voice grew more resolute as he listed off his reasoning. "First," he began, holding up a finger, "water. Caves always have water somewhere¡ªpools, underground streams, something. And water doesn''t care who you are. If they figure out I''m in there, all they''d need is a few clever tricks. Flood the damn place, and I''d drown like a rat." He stopped, turning to glare at the cave entrance as though it were mocking him. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Second," he growled, raising another finger, "visibility. Sure, I can see in the dark better than they can, but that doesn''t mean I''m untouchable. They could light the place up with torches, or worse, smoke me out like a hive of bees. One good choke point, and I''d be cornered." Volk rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing further. "Third," he said, raising a third finger, "terrain. Sure, it''s tight and confined, but that doesn''t just apply to them. My movements would be limited too. Swinging my axe? Forget it. Using the gauntlet''s full power? Risky as hell. The ceiling could collapse, or worse, the whole damn cave could cave in." He stopped pacing, planting his feet firmly on the ground. His crimson gaze bore into the cave entrance, his scowl deepening. "No, this isn''t a place for a fight," he muttered. "Too much can go wrong, and I''m not in the mood to test my luck against rocks and water." Volk took a step back, turning his gaze to the remaining path: the towering rock mountain ahead. "At least up there," he said, pointing toward the rugged peaks, "I''ll have the high ground. And if they try anything clever, I can just toss boulders down at them." He turned away from the cave, his mind made up. "Clever bastards might think I''d hide in there," he said over his shoulder, addressing the cave as if it were listening. "But I''m not stupid enough to walk into my own grave." With that, Volk adjusted the gauntlet once more and began walking toward the rock mountain, his steps firm and purposeful. Behind him, the cave entrance loomed, a dark reminder of the dangers he chose to avoid. Chapter 219 Rock mountain As Volk approached the looming rock mountain, his crimson eyes gleamed with anticipation.The terrain ahead was a jagged colossus, its uneven cliffs stretching into the sky like the broken teeth of a fallen giant. The ground beneath him shifted with loose gravel, and the air grew cooler as the shadow of the mountain enveloped him. A low, satisfied chuckle rumbled from his chest as he slowed his pace, surveying the terrain with the sharp precision of a predator. "This," he muttered to himself, his voice deep and filled with approval, "is perfect. Absolutely perfect." He stopped to place a massive hand on the rough surface of the mountain. The stone was solid and cold, unyielding to his touch. His gauntleted fingers scraped against it, producing a faint metallic screech as he traced the potential lines of destruction. "A natural fortress," Volk said, stepping back to take in the full view. "No cavalry in their right mind would want to charge up a slope like this. Too steep, too unstable. Their horses would panic, their formation would crumble, and they''d be nothing but sitting ducks." His gaze roamed higher, spotting loose boulders scattered across the cliffs like ammunition waiting to be used. "And these," he said with a smirk, gesturing toward the boulders, "are just begging to be put to work. I can roll them down, one after another, like giant bullets. Let''s see how those tin-can knights deal with rocks the size of wagons!" He crouched down and scooped up a handful of loose gravel, letting it fall through his fingers. "Even this," he mused, "could work in my favor. A single landslide, and I could bury half of them alive. They''d never even see it coming." Volk rose to his full height, his mind spinning with possibilities. "But why stop there?" he continued, pacing along the base of the mountain. "I could collapse the whole damn thing if I wanted to. Just one good strike from the gauntlet in the right spot, and the entire side would come crashing down. Let''s see their cavalry charge through an avalanche." He laughed at the thought, a deep, guttural sound that echoed through the quiet air. "And if they do somehow make it up here," Volk said, turning his gaze to the narrow paths and jagged cliffs, "they''ll be forced to come at me one by one. No room for their precious formations, no chance to flank me. Just me and them, face to face. It''ll be like shooting fish in a barrel." He clenched his gauntleted fist, the metallic green surface shimmering faintly as it responded to his excitement. "I could even use the gauntlet to tear chunks of rock out of the mountain," he added, flexing his fingers. "Turn them into weapons. Boulders, spikes, walls¡ªanything I need. This place is a playground, and they''re the toys." Volk paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as he admired the sheer scale of the mountain. "They won''t know what hit them," he said, his voice low and almost reverent. "This mountain isn''t just my battleground¡ªit''s my ally. Together, we''ll crush them." With a sudden burst of energy, Volk broke into a run, his massive frame barreling toward the mountain. His heavy steps sent small rocks skittering ahead of him, and his deep laughter echoed through the valley as he charged forward. "This is going to be fun!" he roared, his voice filled with savage glee. As he reached the base of the mountain, Volk began to climb, his gauntlet sinking into the rock like a claw. Each pull and step was deliberate, his massive body moving with surprising agility. This was his stage, and he was ready to put on a show. ¡­ Baron Geisler and his cavalry of knights arrived at the scene with a tense, calculated air. The clearing where the massive humanoid had once stood was a chaotic mess of churned earth, scattered debris, and faint impressions of enormous footprints. The faint light of the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the landscape, painting an ominous picture of destruction. Geisler dismounted his horse with practiced ease, his steel-clad boots hitting the ground with a solid thud. He surveyed the area with sharp, unrelenting eyes, his cold expression betraying none of the simmering anger that burned beneath the surface. The knights behind him dismounted as well, their armor clinking as they spread out, scanning the terrain. "Report," Geisler commanded, his voice like a blade cutting through the stillness. One of the knights stepped forward, his helmet tucked under his arm. "My lord, the tracks are fresh. The creature moved with considerable speed, and its weight left deep impressions in the soil." Geisler nodded, his gaze fixed on the ground. He crouched to examine the marks, his gloved fingers tracing the edges of one of the footprints. "Humanoid," he muttered to himself, "but far larger than anything natural. This is no mere beast. This is a creature of war, a weapon." Another knight approached, gesturing toward the surrounding terrain. "My lord, the tracks seem to diverge in multiple directions. It''s unclear which path the creature took. There are signs leading toward the forested area, others toward the rock mountain, and faint indications of movement near the underground cave system." Geisler rose to his full height, his cape billowing slightly in the breeze. He turned to face his men, his expression unreadable. "Three paths," he said, his tone measured. "And no clear indication of which it chose. We must decide carefully. A mistake here could cost us precious time¡ªand more importantly, our target." The knights exchanged uneasy glances. The weight of the decision pressed heavily on all of them. "The forested area," one knight suggested, stepping forward. "It offers cover and concealment. If the creature sought to evade us, the forest would be the most logical choice." "But my lord," another interrupted, pointing toward the rock mountain, "the forest may be a trap. It''s too easy for such a large creature to hide there, yes, but also too easy for it to ambush us. The rock mountain, however, provides high ground. If it intended to fortify itself or prepare for an attack, that would be the ideal location." "And the underground cave?" a third knight chimed in. "If the creature sought to disappear entirely, there''s no better place. The caves are vast, twisting, and dark. A creature of this size could vanish into the depths, and we''d never find it." The debate grew louder as more knights joined in, each presenting their reasoning. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "The forest would allow it to outmaneuver us!" "But the rock mountain is a natural fortress¡ªit would be foolish to ignore it!" "The caves are treacherous; we could lose men just searching for it!" Geisler listened in silence, his piercing gaze shifting between the arguing knights. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, his fingers drumming rhythmically as he considered their points. Finally, he raised a hand, and the knights fell silent immediately. "This creature," he began, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of menace, "is not merely fleeing. It is thinking, planning. Its actions are deliberate. We must assume it has chosen the terrain that best suits its needs¡ªterrain that offers both defense and offense." He turned to the knight who had suggested the forest. "The forest is indeed an excellent place to evade us. But it is also flammable. If it thought we would pursue it there, it would know we could easily destroy its cover with fire. It would not risk such vulnerability." He shifted his gaze to the knight advocating for the caves. "The underground cave system offers concealment, yes. But this creature has proven it is bold. To retreat into darkness is the act of prey, not a predator. This is not a creature that hides." Finally, he gestured toward the rock mountain. "The mountain is the answer. High ground, natural defenses, and abundant ammunition. From there, it could face us head-on while turning the terrain against us. It is the only logical choice." The knights nodded, murmuring their agreement. "Then the mountain it is," Geisler declared, his tone resolute. But as they began to prepare for their march, a low rumble echoed through the air. The ground beneath their feet trembled slightly, and small stones began to dislodge from the direction of the mountain. The knights froze, their hands instinctively going to their weapons. "What was that?" one of them whispered, his voice tinged with unease. The rumble grew louder, more insistent, like the growl of an enormous beast. Geisler''s eyes narrowed as he turned toward the mountain. "It seems," he said coldly, "that our prey is not content to wait for us." With a sharp motion, he drew his sword and pointed it toward the mountain. "Knights! Forward! The hunt continues!" The cavalry roared in unison, their voices a blend of fear and determination, as they began their march toward the rumbling mountain. Chapter 220 Rain of Rocks The cavalry advanced cautiously as they neared the base of the imposing rock mountain.The ground grew uneven, littered with smaller stones that clattered beneath their horses'' hooves. The towering cliffs loomed above them like jagged teeth, casting long, menacing shadows in the fading light. The once confident march of the knights had turned hesitant, their eyes darting nervously at every crack and crevice. The oppressive silence was broken only by the sound of wind whistling through the rocks and the faint, ominous echoes of falling debris in the distance. A knight near the front of the formation pulled back on his reins, causing his horse to rear slightly. "My lord, this place feels¡­ wrong," he murmured, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound calm. "Hold your tongue," barked another knight, his face pale but resolute. "We are here on Baron Geisler''s orders. Do not falter now." Baron Geisler, riding at the center of the formation, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the mountain''s peak. His expression was as cold and unyielding as the stone before them. Yet, even he could not ignore the strange tension that seemed to thicken the air. And then it began. A sharp crack echoed from above, followed by a low, rumbling growl. All eyes shot upward, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. A boulder, massive and jagged, broke free from the cliffs and began to hurtle toward them. "MOVE!" someone screamed, and chaos erupted. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The knights scrambled to steer their horses out of the boulder''s path, but it was too late for one. The massive rock slammed into the ground with a deafening BOOM, sending up a plume of dirt and shattered stone. The unfortunate knight beneath it was crushed instantly, his armor crumpling like tin under the immense weight. A spray of blood and viscera painted the nearby ground, eliciting horrified gasps and cries from the others. "By the gods!" one knight shouted, his face pale as he yanked his horse away from the carnage. "What in blazes is happening?!" another demanded, his voice shaking. Baron Geisler raised his hand sharply, silencing the panicked murmurs. "It''s the creature," he said coldly, his voice cutting through the din. "It knows we''re here." As if on cue, another boulder came crashing down, this time striking the ground near the rear of the formation. The impact sent horses rearing and knights sprawling, their cries mingling with the shrill neighs of terrified steeds. "Scatter! Spread out!" one of the senior knights commanded, his voice hoarse as he tried to regain control of the situation. "Don''t bunch together! It''s targeting groups!" But the command only added to the chaos. The once-organized cavalry dissolved into a frenzy of movement, knights shouting conflicting orders as they tried to avoid the deadly rain of stone. CRACK-BOOM! Another rock fell, crushing two knights who had barely managed to steer their horses away from the previous impact. The sound of shattering bones and twisting metal was sickening, followed by the agonized screams of those caught in the debris. "It''s a massacre!" one knight cried, his face streaked with sweat and dirt as he frantically urged his horse forward. "Keep moving!" another shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "We have to get closer to the mountain¡ªit''s the only way to stop this!" But as they pressed on, the situation grew even worse. The rocks fell faster now, as if the mountain itself had come alive, determined to obliterate them. "Look out!" a knight screamed, pointing upward. A cluster of boulders, loosened by some unseen force, tumbled down the slope in a cascade of destruction. The rocks smashed into the cavalry with unrelenting force, crushing three more knights in a single instant. Blood pooled on the ground, mixing with the dirt and creating gruesome mud. Severed limbs and shattered armor littered the area, a horrifying testament to the unrelenting assault. "THIS IS MADNESS!" one knight wailed, clutching his sword as if it could somehow protect him from the relentless onslaught. "We can''t stop here!" another shouted, his voice thick with panic. "We''ll be wiped out if we stay in the open like this!" Baron Geisler, still atop his horse, clenched his jaw as he surveyed the carnage. His eyes were looking at his knights as if they were nothing but mere pawns and their lives didn''t even matter to him. In his eyes, there was only hatred and desire for vengeance against the killer of his son. Despite the chaos around him, he remained eerily calm, his piercing gaze fixed on the mountain. "This is no mere beast," he muttered, more to himself than to those around him. "It fights with the land itself. A calculated defense, designed to break us before we even reach it." One of his knights, bloodied but alive, rode up beside him. "My lord, we must retreat! This terrain¡ªthis enemy¡ªwe''re at a disadvantage!" Geisler''s eyes narrowed, and he turned to the knight with a look that could freeze fire. "Retreat? Do you suggest we run like cowards? Like prey?" His voice was cold and cutting. "My son''s blood demands vengeance, and I will not leave until the one responsible is dead." "But the losses, my lord¡ª" "Losses are the cost of war!" Geisler snapped, his voice rising. "Do not speak to me of cost while my son lies broken and cold! We will press on!" The knight swallowed hard and nodded, though his hands trembled as he tightened his grip on the reins. Another CRACK drew their attention upward just in time to see yet another massive boulder plummeting toward them. "MOVE!" Geisler barked, spurring his horse forward. The knights scattered, but the rock still claimed another victim, flattening horse and rider in a sickening explosion of blood and flesh. As they drew closer to the mountain, the barrage intensified. The boulders seemed to come from every direction now, as if the mountain itself had become an instrument of death. "Keep pushing forward!" Geisler commanded, his voice unwavering despite the chaos. "The creature is watching us¡ªtesting us. We must not falter!" But even as he spoke, another cluster of rocks came crashing down, killing four more knights in one horrifying moment. Blood coated the ground, the air thick with the smell of iron and the acrid stench of fear. The knights'' numbers dwindled, their once-proud formation reduced to a desperate, panicked scramble. And then, as they neared the base of the mountain, the rumbling grew louder, deeper, like the growl of some ancient beast. Geisler pulled his horse to a stop, raising a hand to halt what remained of his cavalry. His eyes narrowed as he stared up at the mountain, where the falling rocks had momentarily ceased. "Steady," he murmured, his voice low but firm. The ground beneath them began to tremble, and the knights looked around in alarm. "What now?" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible over the growing rumble. And then, from above, the largest boulder yet broke free, hurtling toward them with terrifying speed. "FORWARD!" Geisler roared, his sword raised high. "FACE IT WITH COURAGE OR DIE WITH COWARDICE!" The knights surged ahead, their fear seemed to be outweighed by their loyalty-or perhaps their terror of their Baron''s wrath. The mountain''s trap had been set, and they had no choice but to meet it head-on. Chapter 221 Rock throw At the top of the mountain, Volk stood like a hulking god of destruction.The jagged peaks framed his monstrous silhouette, the faint glow of his gauntlet casting eerie green light across the craggy terrain. His wide grin revealed sharp teeth, and his eyes gleamed with exhilaration as he surveyed the chaos below. The sound of clattering hooves and panicked screams echoed up to him, filling his ears with a symphony of fear and carnage. "Hah!" Volk roared, his laughter rumbling like thunder. "You puny fools dare to chase me? Then have a taste of the mountain''s wrath!" With that, he crouched low, his massive hands gripping the edges of a boulder larger than any man. He strained for a moment, the muscles in his arms bulging as he heaved it upward. The gauntlet on his hand glowed brighter, humming with energy that seemed to pour strength into his every fiber. "Take this!" he bellowed, lifting the boulder above his head. He turned to look down at the figures scrambling below, their spears and armor glinting like ants scurrying from fire. Volk let out an earth-shaking roar and hurled the boulder over the edge. It tumbled through the air, spinning with terrifying momentum before it slammed into the ground with an earth-shaking BOOM! The impact shattered stone and sent dirt spraying in all directions. From the distance, he could hear the cries of terror as the cavalry scrambled to avoid the deadly projectiles. "Ha! Run, little worms!" Volk shouted, his voice booming like a war drum. "But you can''t escape the mountain''s fury!" He turned to grab another boulder, this one slightly smaller but just as deadly. "Think you''re safe? Think again!" He launched it with a grunt, the boulder soaring through the air like a missile. It struck a group of knights attempting to regroup. Their screams were brief as the stone smashed into them, leaving only broken bodies and twisted armor in its wake. "BOOM!" The sound of impact sent a thrill through Volk''s massive frame. "Yes! That''s what I''m talking about!" he roared, his laughter echoing across the mountain. He slammed his fist into the ground, grabbing another rock. His hands worked with reckless speed, the gauntlet amplifying his strength beyond anything he had ever felt. "More! More!" Volk growled, his voice thick with exhilaration. "Let''s see how many of you are left after this!" He hurled another boulder, his scream louder and fiercer this time. The sheer force of his throw caused the rock to crack in mid-air, sending shards raining down like deadly shrapnel. "CRACK-THUD-BOOM!" Below, the knights tried to shield themselves, but it was futile. The shards tore through armor, flesh, and bone, leaving behind a crimson mist that hung in the air. "Come on, you cowards!" Volk taunted, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his booming voice. "Is this the best your so-called Baron can muster? A bunch of tin men squished under rocks? Pathetic!" Grinning wickedly, he grabbed yet another boulder, this one jagged and uneven. "Here''s a special one for your Baron! Let''s see him dodge this!" He lifted the rock with ease and slammed it down on the cliff''s edge, sending it careening down the slope with terrifying speed. The boulder smashed into a tree on its way down, splitting the trunk in two before hurtling toward the knights. The resulting crash was deafening, the ground shaking violently under the force of the impact. "BOOOOM!" Volk planted his hands on his hips, surveying the destruction with satisfaction. His breath came in heavy, steaming gusts, but he wasn''t tired. No, the gauntlet thrummed with energy, invigorating him with every throw. "This is fun!" Volk shouted to the heavens, his voice echoing into the vast sky. He picked up another stone and held it aloft, admiring its weight. "Think you can climb this mountain? Think again!" He tossed the boulder with a wild laugh, this time aiming for the cavalry''s rear. The stone crashed into their ranks, scattering horses and men like ragdolls. "BOOM! CRUNCH!" "Hah! Right on target!" Volk bellowed, his chest heaving with laughter. He slapped his knee with a resounding THWACK before grabbing yet another boulder. "I should charge you worms for this show!" The more he threw, the louder his screams became, each throw fueled by the exhilaration of destruction. He launched rock after rock, each one landing with devastating accuracy. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Take this!" he roared, the veins in his neck bulging as he hurled another stone. "...And this!" "...And THIS!" Each word was punctuated by the crash of stone meeting earth, the screams of knights, and the clatter of metal. The mountain''s base had become a graveyard of shattered boulders and mangled bodies. The longer Volk threw, the more frenzied his laughter became. His muscles burned with the sweet ache of exertion, and the gauntlet hummed in harmony with his chaotic energy. "Let''s see you climb now!" Volk bellowed, throwing his arms wide as if daring the cavalry to defy him. "Come on! Show me what you''ve got!" But even as he taunted them, the knights below faltered. Their once-determined march had become a desperate scramble for survival. For every step they took closer to the mountain, Volk sent them reeling back with another rain of death. Satisfied with the carnage, Volk planted his hands on his hips and surveyed the battlefield. Blood, broken armor, and the bodies of fallen knights littered the base of the mountain. The surviving cavalry was scattered, their formation shattered beyond repair. Volk wiped the sweat from his brow carefully, his gauntleted hand moving with precision to avoid scratching himself. "Well, that was a good workout," he muttered, smirking to himself. Then, with a deep breath, he readied himself for whatever chaos would come next. "Time to see if they''ve got any fight left in them." Volk flinched slightly as the arrow struck the rock mere inches from where he stood, embedding itself with a sharp THUNK! He blinked, then slowly turned his head to look at the quivering projectile. For a moment, there was silence, save for the faint whistling of the mountain winds. "Well, well," Volk muttered, his lips curling into a toothy grin. He crouched next to the arrow, examining it like a predator sizing up its prey. "Looks like they''ve got some fight left in them after all. Hah! That''s more like it!" Straightening up, Volk turned his gaze downhill, his eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield below. Among the broken boulders and crushed bodies, he spotted a handful of knights regrouping behind their shields. One of them¡ªa wiry figure with a bow¡ªnocked another arrow and aimed upward, his posture trembling but determined. Volk''s grin widened into a full-blown snarl. "You dare shoot at me?!" he bellowed, his voice booming across the mountain. "Good! Let''s see how long you last!" Another arrow whistled through the air. Volk''s sharp eyes tracked its path with ease. He didn''t move until the last second, sidestepping gracefully as the arrow zipped past his shoulder. THUNK! It embedded itself into another rock behind him. "Hah! Missed me!" Volk taunted, slapping his knee with a resounding THWACK! "You''re gonna need a lot more than sticks to take me down!" Without missing a beat, Volk grabbed a jagged boulder the size of a wagon wheel. The gauntlet on his hand pulsed with energy as he hefted it above his head, the veins in his arms bulging with raw power. "Catch this!" he roared, launching the massive rock downhill with terrifying force. Chapter 222 Fight back The boulder soared through the air like a meteor, spinning wildly before slamming into the ground with a deafening BOOOM!The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the earth, shattering smaller rocks and kicking up a cloud of dust. The knights scattered, shouting in panic as debris rained down around them. "Keep shooting, cowards!" Volk yelled, grabbing another boulder with a gleeful laugh. "Let''s see if you can hit me before I crush every single one of you!" An arrow zipped past his ear, so close he could hear the whoosh of its flight. Volk turned his head, his grin unfaltering. "Nice try!" he called out, waving mockingly at the archer. He hurled another rock, this one smaller but faster. It shot through the air like a cannonball, slamming into a shield wall and sending knights sprawling. CRACK! BOOM! "Hah! Down you go!" Volk shouted, pounding his fist against his chest. Another arrow came flying toward him, this time aiming for his face. Volk didn''t bother dodging; he tilted his head slightly, letting the arrow glance off the thick skin of his temple. PING! The arrow splintered on impact, falling harmlessly to the ground. Volk burst out laughing. "Is that all you''ve got?!" he roared. "You think these little toothpicks can stop me?!" He grabbed two smaller rocks, one in each hand, and hurled them in quick succession. The first rock struck a knight directly, shattering his shield and sending him flying. The second rock smashed into the ground near the archer, forcing him to dive for cover. "Run, little worms!" Volk bellowed, his laughter echoing across the mountain. "Or better yet, keep trying! I''m just getting started!" Another volley of arrows came his way, this time from multiple archers. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he tracked their trajectories. With a sudden burst of movement, he leapt to the side, rolling across the rocky terrain with surprising agility for someone his size. WHOOSH! WHOOSH! THUNK! The arrows struck the ground where he had been standing moments earlier. Volk rose to his feet, brushing dirt off his shoulder with exaggerated nonchalance. "Missed again!" he jeered. "You''re gonna need to do better than that!" He grabbed another boulder, this one smooth and round. "Here, let me show you how it''s done!" he said, chuckling darkly. He spun in place once, twice, building momentum before releasing the rock with a mighty heave. The boulder arced through the air, its shadow passing over the terrified knights below. BOOM! It landed with catastrophic force, shattering into countless pieces that rained down like shrapnel. The screams of the knights below only fueled Volk''s energy. "More! More!" Volk shouted, his voice cracking with excitement. "Come on! Show me what else you''ve got!" Another arrow came flying toward him, this time aiming for his chest. Volk caught it mid-air with a loud SNAP! He examined the broken shaft in his hand, chuckling to himself before tossing it aside. "Pathetic!" he spat. "You''re not even trying!" Grabbing a cluster of smaller stones, Volk began pelting them downhill in rapid succession, each throw accompanied by a wild shout. "Take this!" CRACK! "And this!" THUD! "And don''t forget this one!" WHAM! The knights below were in utter chaos, their ranks crumbling under the relentless assault. Some tried to flee, others desperately fired arrows in a last-ditch effort to slow him down. Volk dodged and weaved, more for his own amusement than out of necessity. "Hah! You call that aim?!" he taunted, leaping onto a higher ledge for a better vantage point. "I''ve seen blind goblins shoot straighter than you!" The mountain seemed to come alive under Volk''s onslaught. Rocks rained down in an unrelenting barrage, the ground below littered with shattered stone and broken bodies. Volk stood tall at the peak, his laughter echoing like thunder as he reveled in the chaos. "You wanted to play with the mountain?" he roared. "Well, the mountain plays back!" ¡­ The knights were frantic, their once-proud ranks now a scattered, disheveled mess under the relentless onslaught of boulders raining from above. Arrows flew upward, whistling through the air with desperation rather than precision, each one arcing high before losing momentum and falling uselessly back to the earth. "Keep firing!" shouted one of the knights, his voice cracking with strain. "We just need one lucky shot!" The others obeyed, drawing their bows and loosing arrows as fast as their trembling hands would allow. The sky above them seemed to shimmer with the flurry of arrows, but not a single one reached its mark. Instead, gravity turned their defiance into futility, dragging their shafts down to bounce harmlessly off the rocky slopes or lodge themselves in the dirt. "It''s no use!" cried another knight, his voice filled with panic. "The mountain''s too steep! The arrows can''t even reach him!" "Shut your mouth!" barked a senior knight, his face red with exertion. "Aim higher! If we can get him in the eye or¡ª" BOOM! S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Another massive boulder came crashing down, obliterating the very spot where the senior knight had been standing moments earlier. His body was flung sideways like a ragdoll, the metal of his armor screeching as it scraped against the rocks. The other knights screamed, some diving for cover, others frozen in shock. "Sir Drelan''s gone!" one of them shouted, his voice trembling. "What do we do?! What do we do?!" "We hold formation!" barked another, trying to rally his comrades. "We''re knights of the Barony! We don''t break!" But their formation had already crumbled. Fear was a poison spreading rapidly through their ranks, infecting even the most seasoned soldiers. Each thundering impact from above only tightened its grip on their hearts. "Damn that creature!" one of the archers spat, his hands shaking as he nocked another arrow. "It''s playing with us!" The archer loosed his shot, only to watch it veer wildly off course and plummet to the ground far short of its target. "Why won''t these damn arrows reach?!" he snarled, throwing his bow down in frustration. "It''s the mountain!" another knight shouted. "The incline''s too steep! The gravity''s against us!" "Then what the hell are we supposed to do?!" The panic was palpable now, a feverish cacophony of voices and clattering armor. Some knights tried to regroup, others looked to the Baron for orders, their eyes pleading for guidance. Baron Geisler stood apart from the chaos, his cold gaze fixed on the peak of the mountain. Even as boulders crashed down around him and his men fell to their deaths, he remained unnervingly composed. "He''s taunting us," the Baron muttered to himself, his gloved hand stroking his chin. "That beast thinks itself invincible." Another boulder came hurtling down, striking the earth with such force that it sent a spray of dirt and shattered rock into the air. The knights nearest to it were knocked off their feet, their cries of pain echoing through the valley. "Baron!" one of the knights shouted, scrambling to his feet. "We need to retreat! We can''t fight him like this!" "Retreat?" Baron Geisler''s voice was a low growl, cold and sharp as a blade. He turned to the knight who had spoken, his icy eyes narrowing. "You think retreat is an option?" The knight faltered under the Baron''s gaze, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for words. "Our arrows can''t reach him!" another knight interjected. "We''ll all be crushed before we can even get close!" Baron Geisler said nothing at first. Instead, he reached into a pouch at his side, his fingers brushing against the weathered parchment of an old scroll. He pulled it out, holding it aloft for all to see. The knights fell silent, their eyes widening as they recognized the artifact. "The creature thinks it can mock us," the Baron said, his voice calm but laced with a quiet fury. "It thinks it can slaughter my son, destroy my men, and hide behind its mountain like a coward." He unrolled the scroll, the ancient runes etched into its surface glowing faintly in the dim light. "Well," the Baron continued, his lips curling into a thin smile. "Let''s see how it fares when the mountain itself turns against it." Chapter 223 Not very effective The knights exchanged uneasy glances."Baron," one of them ventured cautiously, "are you sure that''s wise? The power of that scroll¡ª" "¡ªis exactly what we need," Geisler interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "This is no ordinary enemy. If we hesitate, we''re as good as dead." He turned his attention back to the peak of the mountain, where the monstrous figure of Volk could just be glimpsed through the clouds of dust and falling debris. "Enjoy your high ground while you can, creature," the Baron murmured. "Because I''m about to bring it crashing down." With a flourish, he held the scroll out in front of him and began to chant the incantation inscribed upon it. The air around him seemed to ripple, the temperature dropping sharply as a strange energy filled the valley. The knights watched in stunned silence as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. "What''s happening?!" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible over the rising hum of magic. The Baron''s chant grew louder, the runes on the scroll glowing brighter with each passing second. "Brace yourselves!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the growing cacophony. "The mountain is about to awaken!" ¡­ At the top of the mountain, Volk had just heaved another boulder down the slope with a resounding grunt, sending it careening toward the panicked cavalry below. The echo of its impact brought a wicked grin to his face. "Another one bites the dust!" he roared, slamming his massive hands together. The gauntlet on his arm hummed faintly, resonating with his excitement. "Come on, puny humans! Is that all you''ve got?" But then, something strange began to happen. The earth beneath his feet gave the faintest shudder, so subtle at first that he barely noticed it. Volk paused mid-motion, his sharp eyes narrowing as he glanced down at the rocky terrain. "Hmm?" he muttered, scratching the side of his tusked jaw. "What''s this?" The tremor returned, stronger this time. Small pebbles and bits of dirt around him began to shift, sliding ever so slightly down the incline. Volk frowned, standing to his full height and planting his feet firmly. Another quake. And this time, it wasn''t just a shudder¡ªit was a deep, guttural vibration that seemed to pulse through the mountain itself. Loose rocks tumbled down the slope, creating a cascade that grew in size and volume with every second. "What in the name of the Horde?" Volk growled, his voice a low rumble. He glanced over his shoulder at the horizon, half-expecting some colossal beast to emerge from the distance. But there was nothing¡ªjust the endless stretch of sky and the distant peaks of other mountains. The ground bucked beneath him again, more violently this time. Volk staggered slightly, his massive frame adjusting instinctively to the shifting terrain. He crouched low, spreading his arms for balance. "Okay, this is new," he muttered, his eyes darting around. "Did I hit something I wasn''t supposed to? Some kind of underground monster, maybe?" The tremors grew in intensity, shaking the very foundations of the mountain. Deep cracks began to spiderweb across the surface of the rocks, splitting the ground around Volk into jagged fissures. Dust and debris filled the air, creating a thick, choking cloud that obscured his vision. Volk coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. "What the hell is this?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the chaos. "Some kind of magic trick?" Another violent quake nearly sent him to his knees, and Volk let out a low growl of frustration. He slammed a massive fist into the ground, steadying himself. "Enough of this nonsense!" he roared, his voice booming like thunder. "If you''re trying to scare me, you''re wasting your time!" The tremors intensified further, now accompanied by an eerie, low-pitched hum that seemed to emanate from deep within the mountain. Volk''s sharp ears perked up, and his expression darkened. "Ah," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "So that''s what this is." He stood up straight, brushing the dust off his shoulders as though the mountain itself wasn''t in the midst of tearing itself apart. "They think they can scare me?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "These puny humans with their fancy tricks? What a joke." The mountain bucked again, and a massive boulder dislodged from a nearby cliff, crashing down mere feet from where Volk stood. The impact sent a shower of sharp rocks flying in every direction, but Volk didn''t even flinch. Instead, he threw his head back and let out a booming laugh that echoed across the peaks. "Is that all you''ve got?!" he roared, his voice dripping with mockery. "A few shakes and a little dust? You''re going to have to try harder than that!" He stomped his foot down, the ground beneath him cracking even further. "I''m not some fragile little human who''ll cower at the first sign of trouble!" Volk shouted, slamming his fists together. "I am an OOOORC!" The gauntlet on his arm flared to life, its green metallic glow cutting through the dust-filled air. Volk raised his arm high, clenching his fist as the energy within the gauntlet surged. "You think you can break me with your pathetic tricks?!" he bellowed, his voice filled with both fury and glee. "This mountain is my throne! And you''re just worms crawling at its base!" Another tremor rippled through the ground, but Volk stood firm, his feet planted like the roots of an ancient tree. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he looked out over the chaos with a glint of savage delight in his eyes. "Come on, then!" he roared, his voice shaking the very air. "Let''s see what else you''ve got! I''m not going anywhere!" ¡­ Below the trembling mountain, Baron Geisler stood among his knights, his face a mask of cold fury. Dust and debris rained down from above as the rumbling quakes slowly began to subside. His grip on the reins of his horse tightened, the leather creaking under the pressure of his gloved fingers. His jaw was set, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burned with barely restrained anger. The knights around him were less composed. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Some coughed through the settling dust, their faces pale with fear and exhaustion. Others looked nervously toward the looming peak, their hands gripping weapons that suddenly felt inadequate. "Is¡­ is it over?" one of the younger knights stammered, his voice trembling. Another knight, an older veteran with a scar running down his cheek, spat onto the ground. "Over? That thing isn''t done with us yet." Baron Geisler remained silent, his eyes fixed on the mountain. The faint sounds of boulders crashing and Volk''s distant laughter still echoed down to them, a mocking reminder of their failure. One of the knights mustered the courage to approach the Baron, bowing his head slightly as he spoke. "My lord, the low-level scroll¡­ it didn''t work. The creature¡ª" Geisler''s gaze snapped to the knight, his icy glare cutting him off mid-sentence. The knight immediately fell silent, taking a step back as the weight of the Baron''s disappointment bore down on him. "Of course, it didn''t work," Geisler said, his voice low and venomous. He dismounted his horse with deliberate precision, his boots crunching against the rocky ground as he landed. "I was a fool to think such a paltry thing could faze that beast." Chapter 224 Pain The knights exchanged uneasy glances, their fear of the Baron outweighing their terror of the creature above.Geisler straightened his coat, brushing off imaginary dust as he paced in front of his men. "Do you know what separates us from the monsters we hunt?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with disdain. The knights remained silent, their eyes following him as he walked. "Preparation," Geisler continued, his tone sharpening. "Intelligence. Strategy. These are the tools of civilization, the tools of power. And yet, here we are, fumbling in the dirt like peasants, hoping a single scroll would save us from our incompetence." He stopped abruptly, turning to face his men. "That creature killed my son," he said, his voice rising slightly. "It crushed him like an insect and laughed as it did so. Do you think it will show any of you mercy?" The knights lowered their heads, shame and fear etched into their faces. Geisler''s lips curled into a sneer. "Pathetic." He reached into the pouch at his side, pulling out a bundle of rolled parchment tied with golden ribbons. The knights'' eyes widened as they recognized the intricate designs etched into the scrolls¡ªhigh-level magic, the kind reserved for only the most dire of circumstances. "My lord¡­" one of the knights began, his voice shaky. "Are those¡ª" "Yes," Geisler snapped, cutting him off. "These are not the toys I entrusted to my fool of a son. These are tools of destruction, forged by the finest mages of the kingdom. Tools worthy of dealing with a creature like this." He unfurled one of the scrolls, the magical symbols glowing faintly in the dim light. The knights recoiled slightly as a wave of energy radiated from it, the sheer power almost tangible. "But¡­ seven of them?" another knight dared to ask, his voice barely above a whisper. Geisler turned to him, his expression cold. "Do you think one will be enough?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "This is not some wild beast you can bring down with arrows and swords. This is a monster¡ªa threat to my barony, to my name, to my legacy." He rolled the scroll back up with a snap, tucking it securely into his belt. "If I must raze this entire mountain to ash, so be it. Let the creature see the might of a true noble. Let it understand what it means to cross Baron Geisler." The knights stared at him, a mixture of awe and terror in their eyes. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "My lord," one of them said cautiously. "If these scrolls are used together¡­ the destruction could be¡ª" "¡ªnecessary," Geisler interrupted, his voice hard as steel. "Do you question my judgment, knight? Do you think you know better than I how to avenge my son and protect this barony?" The knight quickly shook his head, stepping back into the crowd. Geisler took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Enough talk," he said, his tone final. "Prepare yourselves. We march on that mountain, and we will not stop until that creature lies broken at my feet." As the knights began to organize, their fear temporarily overshadowed by their leader''s commanding presence, Geisler turned his gaze back to the mountain. He reached down, brushing his fingers over the hilt of his sword. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, but the venom in his words was unmistakable. "Let''s see if these scrolls aren''t enough to bring that beast to its knees." Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet trembled again, this time accompanied by a low, ominous rumble. All heads turned toward the mountain as a cascade of boulders began to tumble down the slopes once more. Geisler smirked. "It knows we''re coming." ¡­ At the summit of the rocky mountain, Volk''s deep, guttural laughter echoed through the jagged peaks. He hurled another boulder down the slope, his grin stretching wide as he imagined the chaos it caused below. Each throw brought him immense satisfaction. His voice boomed, mocking the humans below. "Come on! Is that all you''ve got? You''re supposed to be warriors!" he bellowed, his voice filled with mockery. "I am Volk, the Orc! Your arrows? Feh! Your spells? Feh! Bring me a real fight!" But then, his laughter abruptly stopped. His ears twitched, catching something faint but unusual. The air around him felt heavy, charged. A low hum vibrated through the atmosphere, and Volk''s keen instincts picked up a sudden shift in the sky. He glanced up, his grin faltering. Dark clouds had gathered unnaturally fast, swirling above the mountain like a vortex of doom. The air crackled with energy, and a flash of light illuminated the sky. A split second later, a thunderous CRACK echoed, and a bolt of lightning slammed into the ground mere feet from where Volk stood. Volk''s grin returned, though it was more cautious this time. "Oh, so now we''re playing with storms, huh?" he muttered, flexing his fingers within the radioactive gauntlet. Before he could taunt further, another bolt struck, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. The impact jolted him, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his massive frame. He staggered back slightly, shaking off the sting. "Ha! Is that the best you''ve got?" he roared, pounding his chest defiantly. "That''s nothing! Just a shoulder jab!" But the storm wasn''t done. Another bolt, brighter and more vicious than the last, came down with pinpoint accuracy, slamming into his back. Volk growled, the pain sharper this time. A third bolt followed, then a fourth, and then they came in rapid succession. CRACK! BOOM! CRACKLE! Each strike sent a wave of searing pain through him, like red-hot needles piercing his thick hide. Volk gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out, but the relentless assault was beginning to wear him down. His muscles twitched involuntarily, and the faint smell of singed flesh began to waft in the air. "Alright, this is starting to get annoying," he growled, shaking his head as another bolt slammed into his side, forcing him to one knee. He glanced at the gauntlet, half-expecting it to shield him somehow, but it offered no reprieve from the storm''s wrath. The sky flashed again, and a massive bolt descended, striking him directly in the chest. Volk let out a guttural roar, the pain intense enough to make him stumble. His breathing grew heavier, the electricity coursing through him leaving faint burns along his exposed skin. "Pain¡­," he muttered to himself, his voice low and almost contemplative. "This is pain¡­ real pain." He tried to rise, only for another bolt to strike his leg, forcing him down again. The mountain shook under the ferocity of the storm, debris tumbling around him. Volk''s mind raced, the unrelenting strikes finally making him consider the gravity of his situation. "These puny humans¡­" he muttered, his voice filled with both anger and admiration. "They actually found a way to hurt me." The bolts showed no sign of stopping, each one more powerful than the last. Volk could feel the weight of the storm pressing down on him, as if the heavens themselves were trying to crush him. His breaths came in ragged bursts, his body trembling under the relentless onslaught. "What should I do now?" he mumbled to himself, glancing around as if the rocky terrain might offer a solution. His mind, usually consumed by battle lust, was now forced to think. "I ain''t gonna dodge these forever¡­ but what''s the plan, Volk? You''re not dying here. Not to a damn storm." Another bolt struck him, and Volk clenched his fists, his glowing gauntlet pulsing faintly as if reacting to his frustration. But for the first time in a long while, the mighty Orc was unsure. Chapter 225 Rampage The storm raged above like an enraged deity, lightning striking the summit with unrelenting fury.Each bolt exploded into the ground with ear-splitting cracks, sending showers of debris into the air. The once-quiet mountain now roared with chaos, a battlefield between man-made magic and the indomitable force of Volk, the Orc. Volk crouched low, his feet planted firmly on the trembling stone. His breathing was heavy, and faint scorch marks covered his dark, muscular frame. Steam rose from his shoulders where lightning had struck him moments before. His radioactive gauntlet glowed faintly, the greenish hue pulsating like a heartbeat. "Give me more!" Volk roared into the storm, his voice a guttural boom that matched the thunder. He grabbed a nearby boulder, its jagged edges digging into his palms. With a grunt, he heaved it over his head. The muscles in his arms rippled, veins bulging as if his body itself rebelled against the storm. "Here! TAKE THIS!" His shout reverberated off the mountainside. With a mighty throw, he hurled the boulder into the tempest below. It tore through the air, whistling violently as it descended. The impact was deafening¡ªa bone-rattling BOOM! as the boulder slammed into the slope, scattering rocks and crushing anything in its path. But Volk didn''t stop. He was relentless. Grabbing another stone, he repeated the process. Each throw was faster, harder, more brutal than the last. His movements became a violent rhythm, his body an unstoppable machine of destruction. He alternated between taunting the soldiers below and laughing maniacally as his projectiles sent panic through their ranks. The mountain groaned beneath his feet as Volk''s fury intensified. Every boulder he threw dislodged more rocks, sending cascades of debris tumbling down the slope. The air was filled with the sharp CRACK of breaking stone and the terrified shouts of the knights below. --- Down the slope, the chaos was palpable. Knights shouted over the din, their once-disciplined formation devolving into disarray. "Hold your ground!" one shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the constant THUD of falling rocks. A massive boulder struck the ground near the knights, sending up a cloud of dust and shards of stone. One unfortunate soldier wasn''t quick enough. The boulder struck him square in the chest, the impact crushing his armor like paper. His scream was short-lived, replaced by the sickening CRUNCH of metal and bone. "Sir! We''re losing too many men!" another knight yelled, his voice tinged with panic. Baron Geisler''s face was a mask of fury. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the battlefield. The stormlight flickered across his weathered features, making him look like a vengeful wraith. "We''ve come too far to turn back!" he barked. His voice cut through the chaos like a whip. "This beast killed my son! We will not falter now!" The knights exchanged uneasy glances. Their Baron''s resolve was undeniable, but the reality of their situation was grim. "Keep firing!" Geisler commanded. "I don''t care if it takes every arrow in your quivers. Bring that monster down!" The archers obeyed, their hands trembling as they nocked arrows onto their bows. The sky above them groaned as another boulder soared through the air, its shadow briefly darkening their ranks. "Loose!" shouted an officer. Arrows filled the air, whistling as they soared toward the mountain''s summit. But the ascent and the storm conspired against them. Most arrows fell short, clattering uselessly against the rocks. --- Above, Volk smirked. He watched the arrows fall harmlessly around him. Occasionally, one came close, embedding itself in the ground nearby with a dull THUNK. Volk ignored them, his confidence unshaken. "Is that all you''ve got?" he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery. He grabbed a particularly massive boulder, its size requiring both hands to lift. His muscles strained, his breath coming in sharp bursts as he hoisted the enormous rock above his head. "Let''s see you dodge THIS!" he roared, his voice merging with the thunder. With a heave, he sent the boulder plummeting down the slope. It bounced and tumbled with devastating force, striking the earth with a BOOM that reverberated for miles. Volk leaned forward, his keen eyes watching as the boulder obliterated a group of knights who had been too slow to scatter. Their screams were short-lived, drowned out by the roar of the impact. He laughed, the sound deep and cruel. "Run, little humans! Run while you still can!" But as he turned to grab another rock, something caught his attention. Suddenly, a single arrow struck the stone near his feet with a sharp TWANG. Volk froze, his glowing eyes narrowing. "Well, well," he muttered, kicking the arrow aside. "Looks like you''re finally trying." More arrows followed, a relentless volley that forced Volk to move. He sidestepped one, ducked under another, and swatted a third out of the air with his gauntlet-covered hand. The gauntlet''s green glow intensified with each deflection, feeding on the kinetic energy. Volk grinned, his tusks gleaming in the stormlight. "Is that all you''ve got?!" he roared, his voice filled with mocking glee. The archers below adjusted their aim, their frustration evident. They shot faster, their arrows coming in tighter clusters. But Volk was nimble despite his size. He dodged and weaved, his movements almost graceful for someone so massive. When an arrow came close to his face, he caught it mid-air, snapping it in half with a sharp SNAP. "Nice try!" he sneered. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The fight continued, growing fiercer by the second. Volk''s laughter echoed across the battlefield as he resumed his assault, hurling rocks with renewed vigor. Each throw was accompanied by a shout, his voice booming with energy. "Take this!" he yelled, launching a boulder that crashed into a cluster of knights, sending them flying like ragdolls. "And this!" Another rock followed, its impact shaking the ground. The knights below were in chaos. Their formations were shattered, their morale dwindling with every strike. "Hold your ground!" Baron Geisler shouted, his voice a beacon of authority. The knights rallied, their discipline returning despite the overwhelming odds. But even as they fought to regroup, the storm and the Orc continued to batter them relentlessly. On the mountain, Volk felt the ground tremble. It was subtle at first, a faint vibration beneath his feet. But it grew stronger with each passing moment. Volk paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked around. The storm still raged above, but this new sensation was different. It was unnatural. "What now?" he muttered, his voice low. The trembling intensified, the rocks around him shifting slightly. Volk''s instincts kicked in, and he crouched low, his massive frame tensing like a coiled spring. "Trying another something new, are you?" he said, a smirk returning to his lips. But even as he mocked, his senses remained sharp. He could feel the change in the air, the weight of something unknown pressing down on him. The ground beneath his feet shifted suddenly, a low rumble emanating from deep within the mountain. Volk''s smirk faltered, replaced by a look of wary curiosity. "Interesting¡­" he murmured, his glowing eyes scanning the terrain. The rumbling grew louder, a deep, resonant GRRRRRRRR that seemed to come from the mountain itself. Volk''s grin returned, wider and more menacing than before. He cracked his knuckles, the gauntlet glowing brighter in response. "Alright, humans," he said, his voice dripping with anticipation. "I don''t like the lightning, so I''ll end this now." Chapter 226 Rock mountain Blast The mountain trembled under Volk''s fury as he raised his massive gauntlet high above his head.The air was thick with tension, the storm raging around him, and lightning lashing at his frame with growing intensity. Each bolt slammed into him, CRACK! ZAP! BOOM!, leaving faint scorch marks on his skin. He ignored it all, his focus unyielding. He slammed the gauntlet into the rock below. BOOM! The earth groaned as cracks began to spread outward from the point of impact, snaking like jagged lightning bolts across the mountain''s surface. The sound was deafening, like the roar of a thousand thunderclaps compressed into a single moment. Volk grinned savagely, his tusks gleaming in the chaotic light of the storm. "You want to play with storms, little humans? Let me show you what real power looks like!" Another slam followed. BAAAM! The force sent a wave of rock fragments flying outward, some rolling down the slope while others shot into the air like shrapnel. The ground beneath Volk shuddered violently, as if the mountain itself was recoiling from his raw strength. The storm responded in kind. A bolt of lightning, sharper and brighter than any before, shot down from the heavens, aimed directly at Volk''s back. CRRRAAAACK! It struck him squarely, the impact lighting up the entire peak in an electric-blue glow. Volk let out a grunt of pain, but instead of falling, he straightened up. His eyes glowed brighter, defiant against the storm''s fury. "Is that it?!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the valley. "You''ll have to do better than that!" His gauntlet rose again. He slammed it into the ground with even more force. WHAAAAM! The mountain screamed in protest, large chunks of rock breaking free and tumbling down the slope. Clouds of dust billowed up, mixing with the rain to create a suffocating haze. Volk was relentless. He moved like a beast possessed, slamming the gauntlet down again and again. Each strike grew stronger, the cracks beneath him widening into gaping chasms. His muscles bulged with effort, veins popping against his dark skin as he poured every ounce of strength into his task. Below, the cavalry was in chaos. "Another one! Incoming!" The knights scrambled as massive rocks tumbled down the mountainside, some as large as houses. Each impact shook the ground, sending smaller stones flying like deadly projectiles. A knight cried out as a boulder crushed him, the sickening CRUNCH of metal and bone echoing in the chaos. Another was thrown from his horse as the ground beneath him gave way, his scream cut short by the rumbling of the earth. Baron Geisler''s face was grim, his sharp eyes darting between the mountain and his men. He clenched his fists, cursing under his breath. "Damn it, hold your ground!" he roared. Above, Volk slammed the gauntlet again. KRAAASH! The force was so powerful that it sent him skidding backward. The ground beneath him buckled, large slabs of stone tilting and sliding as the mountain began to give way. Volk steadied himself, planting his feet firmly on the unstable surface. The lightning strikes intensified, ZAP! BOOM! ZAP!, each one brighter and louder than the last. They hit him relentlessly, the pain growing sharper with each bolt. His body ached, but Volk''s grin never faltered. "This is nothing!" he roared, his voice cutting through the storm. "I''ve felt worse from my morning stretches!" With one final roar, Volk raised the gauntlet high. He could feel the energy surging within him, the radioactive glow of the gauntlet pulsating wildly. "Time to end this!" He brought the gauntlet down with all his might. BAAAAAAM! The mountain seemed to explode from within. The ground beneath Volk fractured violently, massive chunks of rock breaking free and hurtling into the air. The entire slope began to collapse, the sound a deafening cacophony of CRASH! BOOM! KRRRRRRAAAAK! Volk stood amidst the chaos, watching with satisfaction as the mountain crumbled around him. But he wasn''t done yet. As the rocks began to fall, Volk leapt into the air, his massive form defying gravity for a brief, exhilarating moment. The wind rushed past him, carrying with it the smell of rain, dirt, and ozone. He reached out and grabbed hold of one of the larger boulders, his fingers digging into its rough surface. For a moment, he hung there, suspended in the air with the falling debris. A wicked grin spread across his face. "Let''s make this interesting." With a roar, Volk twisted his body, using the momentum to swing himself onto the boulder. His feet landed firmly on its surface, and he crouched low, balancing as the massive rock hurtled toward the ground. Below, the knights stared in horror as the shadow of the falling rock¡ªand the monstrous Orc riding it¡ªgrew larger and larger. "What in the¡ª?!" one knight stammered, his voice choked with panic. "Move! Move!" another screamed, yanking on his horse''s reins. Baron Geisler''s eyes widened, but his expression remained steely. "Brace yourselves!" he commanded, though his voice carried an edge of desperation. Volk laughed, the sound booming like thunder. "Here I come, little humans!" The boulder hit the ground with earth-shattering force. KABOOOOOOM! The impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, knocking knights off their feet and causing horses to rear in terror. The ground cracked and splintered, creating a crater where the boulder had landed. Volk stood in the center of the destruction, his massive form towering over the chaos. Dust and debris swirled around him, obscuring him for a moment before he stepped forward, his glowing gauntlet cutting through the haze like a beacon of doom. "Round two?" he growled, his eyes locking onto the injured knights. The battlefield grew eerily silent for a moment as Volk''s massive form stood before the cavalry. The ground beneath him seemed to tremble in submission, the weight of his presence alone causing a suffocating tension to spread through the knights. He slowly turned his head, his glowing gauntlet crackling faintly with radioactive energy. His crimson eyes scanned the rows of knights, but it wasn''t their trembling hands or pale faces that caught his attention. It was the man standing at the forefront. Baron Geisler. Volk couldn''t explain it, but something about the man set him on edge. It wasn''t fear¡ªVolk feared nothing¡ªbut a primal instinct flared within him, a whisper that this man, while smaller and weaker than him, posed a unique threat. Was it the sharpness of his gaze? The unwavering way he gripped his weapon? Volk didn''t know, but the feeling gnawed at him. His lip curled into a snarl. "You seem dangerous" he muttered under his breath. "Let''s test that theory." As if the heavens themselves sought to add drama to the scene, a massive boulder suddenly tumbled down the mountain behind Volk. Its descent was chaotic, carving a jagged path through the debris before launching into the air, arcing directly toward him. Volk didn''t flinch. With a smooth motion that belied his immense size, he twisted his body and caught the edge of the boulder with one hand. WHUMP! The force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, but Volk held firm, his muscles bulging as he redirected the massive rock with a casual flick of his wrist. "Let''s see how you handle this!" he roared, hurling the boulder straight at Baron Geisler. The Baron barely had time to react. The massive boulder tore through the air with a deafening WHOOSH, its sheer size blocking out the sun for a brief moment. It struck him square in the chest, lifting him off the ground and sending him hurtling backward in a straight, brutal line. He crashed through the ranks of knights like a cannonball, scattering them like leaves in a storm. His body disappeared into the haze of dust and debris, leaving only the panicked cries of his men behind. "Baron Geisler!" one knight screamed, his voice cracking with despair. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "The Baron''s down! What do we do?!" Chapter 227 Barons power Volk didn''t wait for the knights to regroup.He surged forward, his gauntlet glowing brighter as he closed the distance between himself and the remaining cavalry. The first knight raised his sword, but Volk swatted him aside with a backhanded strike. THWACK! The man flew through the air like a ragdoll, his armor crumpling with a sickening CRUNCH as he collided with the ground. "Hold the line!" another knight shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the chaos. Volk slammed his fist into the earth. BOOM! The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, knocking horses off their feet and sending knights sprawling. "Arrows! Ready the arrows!" a voice screamed. The surviving archers scrambled to nock their arrows, their hands trembling as they drew their bows. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A volley was loosed, the air filling with the sharp whizz of projectiles. Volk laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the earth. He raised his gauntlet, letting the arrows bounce harmlessly off its surface. TINK! TINK! TINK! "Your metal weapons means nothing to me," he bellowed, his voice dripping with mockery. "You might as well be throwing twigs!" The knights charged, desperation etched into their faces. Their swords gleamed in the dim light as they closed the distance, shouting battle cries meant to mask their fear. Volk met them head-on. One knight swung his blade in a wide arc, aiming for Volk''s neck. Volk ducked effortlessly, the blade slicing through empty air. Before the knight could recover, Volk grabbed him by the arm and slammed him into the ground. WHAM! Another knight lunged, thrusting his spear toward Volk''s chest. Volk caught the spear mid-thrust, snapping it in half with his bare hands. He grabbed the knight by the helmet and hurled him into a cluster of his comrades. CRASH! The knights began to panic. "He''s unstoppable!" "Retreat! We need to¡ª" "There''s no retreat! Stand and fight!" But their courage was waning, their once-coordinated attacks devolving into a chaotic frenzy. Volk was a whirlwind of destruction, his gauntlet smashing through shields and armor like they were made of paper. A knight tried to flank him, aiming for his exposed side. Volk spun around, his massive foot connecting with the man''s chest. THUD! The knight was sent flying, his scream fading as he disappeared into the distance. The ground was slick with blood, the once-proud cavalry reduced to a scattering of broken bodies and shattered weapons. Horses neighed in terror, rearing and bucking as their riders were thrown to the ground. Volk stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked down at his gauntlet, the radioactive glow pulsing steadily, as if feeding off the chaos around him. "Is this all you''ve got?" he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. A knight, barely standing, raised his sword one last time. "For the Baron!" he cried, charging with all the strength he could muster. Volk didn''t even bother to move. He caught the sword with his gauntlet, the blade shattering on impact. The knight stared in disbelief before Volk grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. "Tell me," Volk growled, his voice low and menacing. "Was it worth it?" The knight''s only response was a choked gasp before Volk hurled him into the wreckage of his fallen comrades. The battlefield fell silent, the only sound the distant rumble of thunder and the soft crackling of Volk''s gauntlet. He turned, surveying the destruction he had wrought. The cavalry was no more. But the mission was not done yet. Volk cracked his neck, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Pathetic," he muttered, his voice carrying over the lifeless field. "They didn''t even make me sweat." He turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, where the remains of the cavalry''s leader had disappeared. "I hope you''re still alive, little human," he said, his grin widening. "I''m not done with you yet." Suddenly, Volk''s arrogant form of speaking died in his throat, his eyes snapping wide as the air around him crackled with an immense and unfamiliar energy. A faint hum filled the battlefield, growing louder and sharper until it was a deafening screech. Instinct kicked in, and Volk''s muscles coiled like steel springs. "Move!" At the very last moment, Volk shifted his weight and sidestepped, his massive frame defying expectations of speed. The air where he''d stood split open with a blinding flash as a devastating surge of magic ripped through the space. BOOM! The impact tore through the ground, sending shards of earth and rock flying in every direction. The shockwave alone nearly sent Volk stumbling. Behind him, the remnants of the rock mountain weren''t spared. The blast carved through its base, leaving a gaping, smoldering hole that hissed with residual energy. Dust and debris rained down, coating the battlefield in a dense fog. Volk turned toward the source of the attack, his breath heavy with both exertion and surprise. His glowing gauntlet twitched at his side, the radioactive energy humming erratically. From the haze, a voice rang out. It wasn''t just angry¡ªit was seething, dripping with venom and righteous fury. "You filthy, wretched beast," the voice snarled. The fog began to clear, revealing Baron Geisler. His once-polished armor was scuffed and dented, but his posture was unyielding, and his grip on his sword and shield was steady. His face was a mask of controlled rage, his eyes locked onto Volk with a hatred that could burn through steel. "You dare lay your filthy hands on my son? My knights? My legacy?" Volk snorted, though his heart pounded in his chest. "Your son begged for mercy like a coward." He smirked, letting his words drip with mockery. "Your knights are nothing but scraps under my boots." Baron Geisler''s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. "My son was a fool, but he was my fool!" His voice cracked like thunder. "You robbed him of his chance to learn! To grow!" The Baron''s shield glimmered faintly, magic coiling around its edges like smoke. "And my knights¡­ they fought for their honor, for their land, and you butchered them as if they were cattle." Volk rolled his shoulders, raising his gauntlet. "Sounds like they got what they deserved." Geisler''s voice dropped, cold and menacing. "You¡­ will pay for their lives, you vile Ogre. Every drop of blood you spilled will be repaid a hundredfold." And with that, he charged. Volk barely had time to react. Baron Geisler moved with the precision and speed of a predator. His sword lashed out in a blinding arc, and Volk brought his gauntlet up just in time. CLANG! The impact sent sparks flying, the sheer force of the blow making Volk''s arm tremble. "What the¡ª" Volk grunted, stepping back. The Baron didn''t let up. He was relentless, each strike of his sword a calculated blow aimed to exploit openings in Volk''s defense. His shield wasn''t just for blocking; he used it like a battering ram, slamming it into Volk''s torso with bone-jarring force. THUD! BANG! SLASH! Volk staggered, the blows coming faster than he could counter. For the first time, he felt a flicker of unease. "This isn''t normal," Volk muttered, dodging a thrust aimed for his neck. "This guy¡­ moves like a strong earth martial artist with swords and shields!" Chapter 228 Absorb? The fight continued as it became a blur of movement and sound. Volk didn''t know why the system appeared and disappeared once again.It was only brief but he knew it was the system still. With the help of the system! His system! Volk swung his massive fist, aiming for Geisler''s head. The Baron ducked, his shield coming up to block the follow-up punch. CLANG! The force sent Geisler sliding back, but he dug his heels into the ground, refusing to fall. "Not bad," Volk growled, smirking despite himself. "But let''s see how you handle this!" He slammed his gauntlet into the ground. BOOM! The earth cracked and shifted, chunks of rock flying toward Geisler. The Baron leapt into the air, landing gracefully and rolling forward to close the distance. "Your tricks won''t save you, Ogre!" Geisler roared, his sword glowing with a faint, golden light. Volk dodged, sidestepped, and parried, his movements fluid despite his size. But no matter how hard he struck, Geisler met him blow for blow. Volk launched a boulder-sized punch. Geisler deflected it with his shield, the impact ringing out like a gong. BAM! He retaliated with a spinning slash, his sword narrowly missing Volk''s torso. "Why won''t you just die?!" Volk roared, his frustration boiling over. "Because I have a purpose!" Geisler shouted back. His voice was steady, unwavering. "Unlike you, who lives only to destroy!" The fight raged on, each exchange more brutal than the last. Volk grabbed a massive rock and hurled it at Geisler. The Baron raised his shield, the rock shattering into a cloud of debris. CRASH! Before Volk could follow up, Geisler darted forward, his sword flashing in a deadly arc. SLASH! The blade glanced off Volk''s shoulder, drawing blood. Volk snarled, more out of surprise than pain. "You actually hurt me," he muttered, his eyes narrowing. "And I''ll do it again," Geisler replied coldly, his sword steady. For every move Volk made, Geisler had an answer. Volk charged, swinging his gauntlet in a wide arc. Geisler ducked low, slamming his shield into Volk''s knee. WHAM! The blow forced Volk to stagger, and Geisler capitalized, delivering a swift slash to Volk''s side. The fight wasn''t just physical; it was a battle of wills. Volk''s raw power clashed against Geisler''s discipline and technique, the two combatants locked in a deadly dance. The battlefield bore the scars of their struggle-craters, shattered rocks, and bloodstains marked the ground. Volk grinned, wiping blood from his lip. "You''re tough, old man," he admitted. "But you''re just delaying the inevitable." Geisler smirked angrily, his shield raised. "We''ll see who breaks first." And with that, they clashed again, the air ringing with the sound of their battle. Volk''s laughter erupted, loud and mocking, echoing across the battlefield like a battle drum. He lunged forward, his massive gauntlet gleaming under the broken sky. His blows rained down like meteors, each strike forcing Baron Geisler to raise his shield in desperate defense. The ground trembled with every collision, sending smaller rocks skittering in every direction. "You and your precious son deserved to die!" Volk roared, his voice carrying a dark, guttural tone that seemed to vibrate through the air. He swung a massive fist, the gauntlet glowing faintly with energy. Geisler raised his shield, bracing himself. BOOM! The impact threw him back several feet, but the Baron dug his heels into the dirt and steadied himself. His shield was dented, the emblem of his family marred, but his grip on it was firm. "You dare speak of deserving?" Geisler spat, his voice laced with fury. He straightened, his sword poised. "My son was a noble, a protector of the realm! What are you? A filthy, murderous beast who crawls out of the dirt to bring ruin!" Volk grinned, his teeth glinting in the dim light. "A protector?" He barked a laugh, the sound dripping with derision. "You call killing your own people for sport protection? Your knights raid villages, slaughter families, and burn homes, all for your twisted entertainment. Why can''t I enjoy killing you the same way you enjoy hunting them?" Geisler''s face twisted in disdain. "Don''t you dare compare those savage, mindless barbarians to the noble men of this kingdom!" he snarled, stepping forward with his blade raised. --- The Baron''s words were venomous, each one spat with vitriolic precision. "Your people are nothing but the same like us beasts!" Geisler roared, his shield raised high. "You pillage, you destroy, and you infest the land with your filth. You don''t build. You don''t create. You only take!" He swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing Volk to step back. CLANG! The blade met the gauntlet, sparks flying. "Barbarians! Vermin!" Geisler continued, his voice growing louder with each syllable. "All of them live in mud and call it a home. They smear dirt on their faces and call it war paint. They are nothing more than animals pretending to be men!" Volk''s smirk faltered. For a brief moment, his eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. The fight escalated, blows exchanged like a relentless storm. Volk growled, his patience thinning. He struck the ground with his gauntlet, sending a shockwave rippling toward Geisler. BOOM! The Baron leapt into the air, avoiding the brunt of the blast. "You talk too much," Volk sneered, throwing a massive punch. Geisler ducked under it, his sword flashing in retaliation. SLASH! The blade glanced off Volk''s side, drawing a thin line of blood. "And you think too little," Geisler retorted, his tone icy. --- Volk laughed again, the sound harsh and wild. "You call them animals, yet you humans are the ones who act like predators. Those people, those human tribes¡ªthey fought to survive. You hunt them for sport, for glory. What''s more savage than that?" "Survival?" Geisler spat, sidestepping another swing of the gauntlet. He slammed his shield into Volk''s chest, forcing the Orc to stumble. "Survival is what cowards and beasts use as an excuse for their crimes! Those two and their kind are too weak to rise above your base instincts, too foolish to understand true honor or civilization!" Volk''s grin returned, sharper than ever. "Honor? Civilization?" He raised his fist high, bringing it down with all his might. CRASH! The ground beneath them cracked and shifted. "What''s honorable about sending knights to slaughter unarmed villagers? What''s civilized about gutting a mother in front of her child? I''m sure there is nothing to deny my accusations!" Geisler''s expression twisted further in rage. "They are nothing! They are pests who infest the fringes of the kingdom. Their lives are worth less than the dirt beneath your feet!" Volk snarled, his fist flying toward Geisler''s head. The Baron brought his shield up just in time. BANG! The force of the blow sent him skidding back, but he didn''t fall. "Say that again," Volk growled, his voice low, amused and dangerous. "They. Are. Nothing," Geisler hissed, his eyes burning with hatred. The battle surged into chaos, the tension thick enough to choke the air. Volk''s blows came faster and harder, each one a thunderclap that shook the battlefield. BOOM! CRACK! THUD! Geisler matched him step for step, his shield absorbing the relentless attacks while his sword sought openings in Volk''s defenses. The knights watched in stunned silence, too afraid to intervene. Volk''s breathing grew heavier, his muscles burning with exertion. But he couldn''t stop. Not now. Geisler''s face was flushed, sweat dripping down his temples. But his resolve was unshaken. "You can''t win," he said, his voice steady. "You''re just a brute, swinging blindly in the dark." Volk grinned, his gauntlet glowing faintly. "Maybe. But I''m a brute with a mission." Suddenly, Volk faltered. His vision flickered, and a faint glow appeared before him. A system screen materialized, its edges shimmering with light. Ding! | Absorb? | The single word floated in the air, its meaning clear but its implications unknown. Volk''s eyes narrowed. He had no idea what this was¡ªor why it was appearing now. "What the hell¡­?" he muttered under his breath, his fists still clenched. Geisler saw the flicker of hesitation and prepared to strike again. The battle wasn''t over, but he somehow felt that something had changed. Something neither of them could yet understand. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 229 Some Tricks The fight continued as it became a blur of movement and sound. Volk didn''t know why the system appeared and disappeared once again.It was only brief but he knew it was the system still. With the help of the system! His system! Soon, another clash commenced! Like earlier, another glowing screen hovered before Volk''s eyes, pulsing faintly as if mocking his confusion. Ding! | Absorb? | The single word hung in the air, daring him to act, but Volk hesitated. His thick fingers twitched, the gauntlet humming faintly as if in anticipation. "What in the hell does that really mean?" Volk growled under his breath, his tone a low rumble like distant thunder. He squinted at the screen, but its meaning remained elusive. He scanned the battlefield around him, his sharp eyes searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat might explain the prompt. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. He caught no hint of hazardous magic particles, no noxious aura. It made no sense. "What am I supposed to absorb?" he muttered. Baron Geisler, standing a dozen paces away, used the momentary pause to adjust his stance. His battered shield still bore Volk''s hand-shaped dents, and his sword gleamed faintly in the pale light of the storm-filled sky. Volk narrowed his eyes. "You," he muttered, his voice as sharp as the blade aimed at him. "You''re hiding something." Geisler''s lips twisted into a faint smirk. "You''re observant for a beast," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "But it won''t save you." Volk''s massive chest rumbled with laughter. "Oh, I don''t need saving. But you might, little man." The Orc moved first, closing the distance between them in a blur of muscle and rage. His gauntlet hummed as it swung, the air cracking under its weight. WHOOOSH! Geisler sidestepped, his movement precise and efficient. The gauntlet smashed into the ground where he''d stood, sending dirt and debris flying. BOOM! Volk didn''t stop. He pivoted on his heel, swinging his other fist. SWISH! This time, Geisler raised his shield just in time. The impact was deafening, a metallic CLANG! that reverberated through the air. Geisler grunted as the force of the blow sent him skidding backward, his boots digging furrows in the dirt. "Ogre you are losing strength," he admitted grudgingly, his shield arm trembling from the strain. "You will never win." Volk grinned, baring his sharp teeth. "Let''s test that theory, shall we?" The Orc pressed the attack, his movements growing faster and more calculated. He feinted with his left hand, forcing Geisler to raise his shield, and then swung low with his right. CRASH! The gauntlet clipped the edge of the shield, sending sparks flying. Geisler retaliated with a swift slash of his sword. The blade cut through the air with a sharp WHISTLE! Volk dodged, his movements surprisingly agile for his massive frame. As the fight dragged on, Volk began to notice a pattern. Geisler''s attacks were sharper, faster, and stronger than they should have been. His strikes carried a weight that hinted at magic, but there was no visible aura, no telltale glow. Volk frowned. "You''re using magic," he said, more a statement than a question. Geisler''s smirk returned. "I don''t," The Orc growled. "Heh! You don''t fight like any human I''ve ever seen. But your tricks won''t save you." Volk shifted his approach, his attacks becoming more probing. He tested Geisler''s defenses, throwing feints and light jabs with his gauntlet. Each time, Geisler countered with an almost mechanical precision, his sword flashing like lightning. CLANG! THUD! SWISH! Volk''s blows came faster and harder, each one aimed to overwhelm Geisler''s defenses. The ground trembled with every strike, cracks spidering out from where the gauntlet met the earth. Geisler''s movements remained deliberate, but Volk noticed something. Whenever the Baron attacked, his strikes were magically enhanced, his sword cutting deeper and faster. But when he dodged or evaded, the magic seemed to vanish. The realization clicked into place. "You''re conserving your strength," Volk said, a hint of admiration in his tone. "Smart. But it won''t be enough." Geisler didn''t reply. His expression was one of grim determination as he lunged forward, his sword aimed for Volk''s chest. SWISH! Volk sidestepped, the blade missing him by inches. He retaliated with a massive swing of his gauntlet. BOOM! Geisler blocked it with his shield, but the force sent him stumbling. Volk laughed, the sound booming across the battlefield. "You''re not bad for a human. But let''s see how long you can last." He crouched low, his massive frame coiled like a spring, and then leapt into the air. The ground shuddered beneath him. Geisler''s eyes widened as Volk descended like a meteor, his gauntlet aimed squarely at the Baron''s head. CRASH! Geisler rolled to the side just in time, the impact sending a shockwave through the ground. The fight grew more brutal with each passing moment. Volk''s attacks were relentless, his gauntlet smashing through rock and dirt as he pursued Geisler. The Baron, despite his injuries, held his ground, his sword and shield moving in perfect harmony. SLASH! CLANG! BOOM! The battlefield was a cacophony of sound, the clash of metal and the roar of the gauntlet blending into a symphony of destruction. Finally, Volk decided to end it. He slammed his gauntlet into the ground with all his might. BAM! The earth trembled, cracks radiating outward in a spiderweb of destruction. Geisler stumbled, momentarily losing his balance. Volk seized the opportunity. He surged forward, his gauntlet raised high. WHOOSH! The final blow came down like a hammer, smashing into Geisler''s shield. CRUNCH! The shield shattered, fragments flying in every direction. Geisler was thrown backward, landing hard on the ground. Volk stood over him, breathing heavily, his gauntlet humming with residual energy. Geisler struggled to his feet, blood dripping from his forehead. His sword was still in his hand, but it trembled as he raised it. "I will find your tricks!" Volk said, his voice a low growl. "Just give up." Geisler''s lips curled into a defiant snarl. "Just a scratch," Before Volk could respond, the glowing screen reappeared, floating before him. Ding! | Absorb? | Volk hesitated, his eyes flicking between the screen and Geisler. The Baron, sensing the pause, lunged forward with a desperate cry. But Volk was ready. He sidestepped the attack and slammed his gauntlet into the Baron''s chest, sending him sprawling. As Geisler lay on the ground, coughing and struggling to rise, Volk stared at the screen. "What the hell are you trying to tell me?" he muttered. The fight reignited with ferocity, the battlefield now a war zone of shattered earth and scorched debris. Baron Geisler, battered but unbroken, rose to his feet. His sword glinted in the dim light, the edge sharp and deadly again and again. His shield, though dented and cracked, remained steady in his grip. Volk cracked his neck, his hulking frame towering over the human. He flexed his gauntlet-clad hand, the hum of its latent power growing louder. His lips curled into a savage grin. "Ready for another round, little man?" Geisler''s gaze was unwavering, his eyes filled with determination. "I''ll bring you down, beast," he spat. Volk didn''t wait for an invitation. He lunged forward, his massive gauntlet swinging in a brutal arc. WHOOSH! Geisler raised his shield just in time, the impact sending a deafening CLANG! through the air. The force of the blow forced him back several feet, his boots carving trenches into the dirt. The Baron retaliated with a swift slash of his sword. SWISH! The blade cut through the air, aiming for Volk''s exposed side. The Orc twisted, narrowly evading the strike. His gauntlet came up in a counterattack, aiming for Geisler''s torso. BAM! Geisler ducked, the gauntlet whistling past his head. He pivoted on his heel, bringing his shield around in a crushing bash. THUD! The edge caught Volk''s shoulder, staggering him slightly. Volk laughed, the sound deep and menacing. "Not bad, human. But not good enough." The Orc surged forward again, his attacks growing faster and more aggressive. He jabbed with his gauntlet, each strike aimed to break Geisler''s defenses. CLANG! CLANG! BOOM! Geisler deflected each blow, his shield bearing the brunt of the attacks. He moved with calculated precision, his footwork keeping him just out of Volk''s reach. But Volk noticed something. With every swing of Geisler''s sword, every raise of his shield, there was a faint shimmer¡ªa fleeting aura that seemed to enhance the Baron''s movements. Chapter 230 Defeat Volk noticed that the aura wasn''t just enhancing his strikes; it was amplifying his entire body.Geisler''s reflexes were faster than a human''s should be, his strength enough to hold back the monstrous force of Volk''s blows. Even his footwork was unnaturally precise, allowing him to evade attacks that should have been unavoidable. Volk growled, his frustration mounting. "What''s this trickery, Baron? You can''t match me without some strange crutch, huh?" Geisler smirked, his shield rising to block another incoming strike. "You wouldn''t understand, beast. This is discipline. Training. Something your savage kind could never comprehend." The taunt only fueled Volk''s fury. He slammed his gauntlet into the ground, the impact sending a shockwave rippling through the earth. ? KABOOM! The ground split beneath Geisler''s feet, but the Baron leapt back, landing gracefully on solid ground. Volk charged again, his gauntlet swinging like a battering ram. Geisler sidestepped, his sword flashing in a counterattack. SWISH! The blade nicked Volk''s arm, drawing a thin line of blood. The Orc''s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn''t expected the human to land a hit. Volk''s movements became more calculated. He started testing Geisler''s defenses, throwing feints and probing strikes. Each time, the aura flared faintly around the Baron''s sword, shield, or feet, guiding his movements and enhancing his power. The realization hit Volk like a bolt of lightning. "So that''s it," he muttered. "You''re channeling some sort of energy into your body." Geisler didn''t respond, his focus entirely on the fight. Volk grinned. "Let''s see how long that trick of yours lasts." The fight intensified. Volk''s blows became heavier, faster, more relentless. BOOM! CRASH! THUD! The ground trembled beneath their feet, each clash of gauntlet and sword echoing like thunder. Geisler held his ground, his shield absorbing the brunt of Volk''s attacks. His sword lashed out whenever there was an opening, each strike precise and deadly. SLASH! CLANG! Volk began to notice a pattern. The aura only appeared when Geisler was attacking or defending. It wasn''t constant. It flared briefly, then faded, only to reappear when needed. Suddenly, Volk had an idea. He pressed the attack, forcing Geisler to channel his magic repeatedly. Each time the Baron''s sword clashed with his gauntlet, the aura flared brighter. Volk grinned. "Let''s see how much more you''ve got." The glowing screen reappeared in the corner of his vision. "Absorb?" Volk hesitated for a moment, then made his decision. He triggered the ability. The moment Volk activated the absorb function, he felt a strange pull, as if the air around him was shifting. Geisler swung his sword again, the blade glowing faintly with the aura. But this time, as the aura flared, it was drawn away, siphoned into Volk''s gauntlet. Geisler''s eyes widened in shock. "What¡ª?" The Baron tried to channel his magic again, but nothing happened. The aura was gone. Volk didn''t give him a chance to recover. He surged forward, his gauntlet smashing into Geisler''s chest with devastating force. KABAM! Geisler was thrown backward, his body crashing into the ground with a sickening THUD! Volk stood over him, breathing heavily, his gauntlet humming with newfound energy. "So that''s what you were hiding," he said, his voice low and menacing. Geisler coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Volk, his expression a mixture of anger and disbelief. The Orc grinned. "Your tricks won''t save you now, human." Volk stared down at the broken man before him, his gauntlet still crackling faintly with residual energy. The Baron lay sprawled on the ground, clutching his chest, blood seeping through his dented armor. Despite the obvious agony, Baron Geisler began to laugh. It was a hoarse, wheezing sound at first, but it grew louder, more menacing, filling the desolate battlefield with an air of grim finality. "You... you beast," Geisler rasped, his voice laced with venom. "You might''ve won this fight, but don''t think for a second it changes anything. Do you know where you are, you filthy creature? This land isn''t yours. "The Grand Canyon, the Valley of Orcs¡ªthey''re leagues away from here! You''re far from your tribe, far from your savage kin. You''re alone." Volk remained silent, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing slightly. The gauntlet on his arm tightened with a faint hum, but he made no move to interrupt. Geisler coughed violently, spitting blood onto the dirt. He gritted his teeth and continued, his voice growing steadier. "Do you think you''ll get away with this? Killing me? Killing my knights? Hah! You''ve only sealed your fate." His lips curled into a cruel smile, exposing bloodstained teeth. --- "You see, you oversized brute, I''ve already sent the signal." His words came out slow and deliberate, his eyes boring into Volk''s. "The surrounding barons... oh, they know. They know what you are. A monster. An abomination. Do you think they''ll let you roam free? No, no, they''ll hunt you down like the dog you are." Volk''s expression darkened, but he remained rooted in place, his massive frame towering over the Baron like an executioner waiting for the condemned to finish his plea. Geisler let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, you might think you''re strong now. But strength alone won''t save you from the fury of the nobles. They''ll send their armies, their mages, their mercenaries. And when they find you, they won''t just kill you. No... no, that would be too kind." The Baron''s voice dropped to a near whisper, his tone dripping with malice. "Do you know what they''ll do to a rare warrior Orc like you? A freak who killed a baron''s heir and his entire cavalry?" His lips twisted into a smirk. "They''ll take your head. Mount it on a pike for all to see. Your arms? Your legs? Hah! Sold to the highest bidder. The nobles love their trophies, you see. A warrior Orc''s skull makes for quite the conversation piece." Volk''s jaw tightened, his tusks baring slightly. His gauntlet began to glow brighter, but still, he didn''t speak. "And your heart," Geisler sneered. "Ah, yes, your heart. They say a warrior Orc''s heart, when boiled, makes a fine elixir. Increases stamina, they claim. The nobles will pay a fortune for it. "Perhaps they''ll even feast on your liver at their banquets, laughing about how easily you fell. I am just a Baron, imagine I alone could hurt, what more if there''s a thousand of them!?" Geisler shifted slightly, groaning in pain but refusing to stop. "You think you''re a predator, don''t you? But out here, you''re the prey. Do you think the other tribes will come for you? Hah! They won''t even know you''re gone until it''s too late. You''re nothing but a lost beast, wandering into a trap you''ll never escape." Volk''s fists clenched, the earth beneath him cracking slightly under the pressure. "And let''s not forget the bounty," Geisler continued, his tone almost giddy now. "Oh, the bounty they''ll place on your head. Every mercenary from here to the capital will be after you. You''ll be hunted day and night. There''ll be no rest for you, no hiding place. They''ll track you to the ends of the earth, and when they find you... hah!" He coughed again, his body wracked with pain, but he forced himself to sit up slightly, propping himself on one arm. "You think killing me will end this?" he spat, blood dripping from his lips. "No, beast. Killing me is just the beginning. My death will light a fire¡ªa fire that will burn through your kind until there''s nothing left but ash. "They''ll use my death as an excuse to wipe out every warrior Orc, every savage tribe they can find. Your people will pay the price for your arrogance." Volk''s eyes flickered with a mix of anger and something else¡ªcontemplation, perhaps, or the faintest hint of unease. Geisler noticed and seized the moment. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Do you hear me, you wretched creature? Your actions here will doom your kind. The tribes will suffer. The valleys will burn. And you''ll be the cause. You''ll be their downfall." The Baron''s laughter returned, weaker now but no less deranged. "And do you know the best part? Even if you escape¡ªif you somehow survive the hunters and the armies¡ªyou''ll never escape the guilt. The knowledge that you brought ruin to your people. That your lust for blood and destruction condemned them all." He collapsed back onto the ground, breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell in ragged motions, each breath a struggle. Yet his lips still curled into that smug, defiant smile. "Go ahead," he whispered, his voice barely audible now. "Do it. Kill me. But remember my words, beast. Remember them when you''re running, hiding, watching your kind die. You''ll carry my death with you forever." Volk stood still, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the dying man. His glowing gauntlet pulsed faintly, the hum of its power almost drowned out by the wind. For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Geisler''s eyes fluttered shut, his body slackening as exhaustion overtook him. The last remnants of his defiance lingered on his face, a final act of defiance even in the face of death. And then, silence ensues. Chapter 231 Rewards Volk''s breathing slowed as the battlefield fell silent, save for the faint rustle of the wind and the distant cries of crows circling overhead.The system''s chime pierced through the stillness, sharp and clear. DING! The notification glimmered in his vision. | Mission: Destroy the entire cavalry of Baron Geisler without turning into Radioactive Form. | Rewards: Directions to each member of the Horde, including their wives. | Failure: Gauntlet Disappearance. | Status: Completed. | Volk blinked. The words lingered in front of him, glowing faintly before vanishing like dissipating smoke. He felt a faint magical pulse, followed by a rhythmic vibration against his thigh. His hand instinctively moved to his armored animal-hide shorts. He fished out the rough, folded map that the two barbarian girls had handed him earlier. The parchment had felt inconsequential before¡ªanother relic from desperate humans clinging to survival¡ªbut now, it radiated with an otherworldly energy. The surface glowed faintly as he unfolded it, revealing a far grander depiction of the world than he''d anticipated. The map was divided into intricate sections. It bore the names of Nine Human Kingdoms, sprawling across a single massive continent, each marked with intricate borders and tiny, illegible scribbles indicating towns, castles, and strongholds. Volk''s sharp eyes swept across the parchment until his attention was drawn to the colossal mass of land to the east. "Unexplored Elven Continent," he muttered. The words were etched in elegant, ancient script. This landmass dwarfed the human kingdoms by a staggering magnitude. Volk''s tusks glinted as he leaned closer. Seven times larger? His brow furrowed. It was a world unto itself, a mysterious frontier untouched by humanity¡ªor so the map claimed. His gaze shifted back to the continent of the Nine Kingdoms. A faint dark green mark pulsed in the western edge, accompanied by a single word: Warchief. "Me," Volk said softly. The word reverberated in his mind. He had been named Warchief by his people¡ªa title that denote strength, leadership, and responsibility. His eyes scanned further. The dark green mark was dangerously close to the Grand Canyon and the Valley of Orcs, the ancestral lands of his kind. He ran his fingers over the map, tracing the lines of the human territories. . It became painfully clear: three Baron Territories stood between him and the safety of his homeland. One of them bore a label that sent a chill down his spine: Baron Geisler''s Territory. Volk growled, his gaze flickering back to the ruined battlefield. The thought of staying here, even for another moment, felt like madness. Suddenly, the map began to shift again, as though alive. Another color bled into the parchment, forming small, pulsating dots. Horde Members. "My horde," Volk murmured. His voice was low, filled with a strange mix of hope and dread. The dots marked the locations of his scattered tribe. Some were near¡ªclose enough to consider saving. But others... Volk''s heart sank. A new color emerged alongside some of the dots, one that made his stomach twist. Red. When he focused on the red dots, words emerged beside them: Perished Horde. --- Volk''s tusks bared instinctively, and his fist tightened around the map. "Perished," he growled, his voice trembling with fury. His people weren''t just scattered¡ªthey were being hunted. His gauntlet flared briefly, sensing the tension within him. He studied the map further. The red dots were clustered dangerously close to the Baron Territories. The realization hit him like a warhammer to the chest. If he lingered here, if his presence became known, the surrounding barons would undoubtedly converge upon him. Volk muttered to himself, piecing together his options. "Three Baron Territories between me and the Valley. Baron Geisler''s lands are here. If his signal reached others..." He paused, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing. "They''ll come. I''ll be surrounded. No escape. The only reason you all exist is because all the Orcs don''t matter to us, they are just creatures used to strengthen our human race!" His mind raced. Each second felt heavier than the last. The Baron''s dying words rang in his ears: They''ll hunt you. They''ll tear you apart. Your kind will pay for your arrogance. Volk snarled. The human was dead, but his warning still held weight. If the surrounding barons were already aware of him, then his window of opportunity was razor-thin. He traced the map again, focusing on the green dots. Some were dangerously close to red zones, others farther away but isolated. A surge of determination coursed through him. He couldn''t let his horde fall apart. "Move," Volk muttered to himself, folding the map with care. "I can''t stay here. Not for long." He rose to his full height, his massive frame casting an imposing shadow over the battlefield. His eyes swept over the carnage¡ªthe shattered bodies of knights, the crushed remains of their cavalry. He felt no remorse for them, but he couldn''t ignore the consequences. The map''s glowing warmth faded as he slipped it back into his shorts. His gauntlet hummed, a silent reminder of the system''s reward. He flexed his fingers, feeling the raw power coursing through the enchanted artifact. Volk took a deep breath, the air thick with the stench of blood and ash. He turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the distant silhouettes of mountains marked the edge of the Grand Canyon. His destination was clear. But first, he had to move. "Three barons," Volk growled to himself, his voice low but resolute. "Three obstacles. Then the Valley. Then the Horde." He clenched his fists, the gauntlet glowing faintly. "What do I do first, again?" And with that, Volk began to move, his massive strides carrying him toward the next chapter of his brutal journey. Not long, with his strides toward the horizon were strong, he suddenly halted abruptly when he felt another vibration against his thigh. The map¡ªit was alive again. He reached into his armored hide shorts, pulling out the glowing parchment. Its surface shimmered like molten emeralds as new details began to unfurl across it. At first, the dark green markings of his horde still pulsed faintly, scattered across the human kingdoms and the edge of the Grand Canyon. But as he stared at the elven continent, his eyes narrowed. A new color emerged¡ªyellow-green dots scattered across the sprawling, unexplored landmass. Volk''s jaw tightened, his tusks bared as realization struck. "Elves?" he muttered, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "My elven horde members... in the elven lands?" His mind worked quickly. The map''s markings didn''t need explanation; the truth was self-evident. Those yellow-green dots represented elves who were part of his horde. Their wives from the upper realm ruled by the Warlocks and Dark Elves. Before he could dwell further, the map pulsed again, and golden letters appeared in the air before his eyes. DING! | The Warchief won''t be a Warchief without a horde. | Mission: Collect a new member of the horde and form a new horde in the Orzaroth Realm. Adopt all the scattered Wild Orcs and join them to the new starting horde. | Rewards: Exact location and status of the original horde members and a random radioactive horde power up! | Failure: Horde marks disappearance. | Status: Ongoing. | Volk''s grip on the map tightened. The system had spoken. Its instructions were clear. He couldn''t waste time. Without his horde, he was nothing but a lone survivor¡ªa fragment of what he was meant to be. His people needed him, and now he had a new mission: not just to survive, but to rebuild. But there was no room for hesitation. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The map''s message lingered in his thoughts as he refocused on the path ahead. "The Orzaroth Realm," he growled under his breath, rolling the map carefully and slipping it back into his shorts. "If I''m to be Warchief, then I''ll start by gathering what remains." Chapter 232 Territorial Backups Baron Geisler''s Territory: The AlarmMeanwhile, far from Volk''s location, a low, ominous wail echoed across Baron Geisler''s territory. WHOOOOO-OOO! WHOOOOO-OOO! The sound was unmistakable¡ªa deep, resonating horn accompanied by the faint crackle of magical pulses. The alarm''s cry carried through every village, castle, and farmland under the Baron''s jurisdiction. It was not a sound anyone wished to hear. Farmers in the fields froze mid-swing, their scythes hanging limply in their hands. The women gathering water by the river dropped their buckets, watching the horizon with wide eyes. Children playing near the gates stopped their games, their laughter silenced as the chilling sound reached their ears. Inside the bustling markets of the main town, merchants paused mid-barter, their voices trailing off. Customers turned their heads toward the towering bell tower in the center of the square. "That can''t be..." a merchant muttered, his voice trembling. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Another whispered, "The alarm... but that means¡ª" "The Baron," an older man cut in, his face pale. "Does it mean that the current Baron has fallen." The wail of the horn reverberated even into the grand halls of Castle Geisler. Servants stopped their cleaning, their eyes darting to one another. Knights training in the courtyard lowered their weapons, dread settling over their ranks. "What''s going on?" one young squire asked, his voice cracking. "Quiet!" barked a senior knight, though his own face betrayed unease. "The Baron can''t fall. He''s... he''s Geisler." But even as he spoke, the truth weighed heavily in the air. In a secluded chamber within the castle, the stillness of the Baron''s private library was broken by the wailing alarm. The room was lined with towering shelves of ancient tomes and scrolls, their spines cracked with age. At its center stood an old man, draped in flowing robes, his long white beard nearly reaching the floor. The wizard, Gerhardt, slammed the heavy tome he had been reading shut. His gnarled hand clenched into a fist, and his brow furrowed deeply as he muttered a string of curses under his breath. "That damned fool," he spat, his voice laced with both anger and frustration. "I warned him. I told him¡ªnever travel without more knights, especially not to those outskirts!" Gerhardt paced the room, his ornate staff tapping against the stone floor with each step. "What kind of creature could have done this?" he muttered. "An entire cavalry wiped out? Even Geisler himself?" His voice grew louder with each word. He stopped abruptly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. "Unless..." He slammed his staff down with a resounding CRACK. "Could it be the Prince''s meddling?" he snarled. "That boy would do anything to eliminate Geisler. Even hire... whatever did this!" Gerhardt''s mind raced, piecing together possibilities. "But what if it wasn''t the Prince?" he muttered. "What if... what if this is something worse?" His gaze drifted toward the nearest window, where the distant mountains loomed like silent sentinels. "Some monstrous beast," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "Or..." His eyes widened. "Don''t tell me..." He gripped the edge of a nearby desk. "A monster?" --- Gerhardt''s face twisted in anger as he thought of the possibility. "If it''s one of those savage monsters... then the Baron deserved it!" he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "That arrogant fool," he continued, pacing again. "Always boasting about his prowess. Always underestimating the enemy. How many times did I tell him? ''Bring more knights, bring more mages,'' I said. But no. He had to prove himself. Had to flaunt his strength." Gerhardt shook his head, his long beard swaying. "And now look where it''s gotten him. Dead. And his entire cavalry¡ªgone. What a waste." He paused, staring at the towering shelves of books around him. "If this is truly a monster... then we''re not that much in danger if it''s alone. But if it''s enough to wipe out the cavalry that fast, it should be a whole lot of them¡­" His words trailed off, replaced by a grim silence. Suddenly, the door to the library burst open, and a young mage-in-training stumbled in, his face pale. "Master Gerhardt!" the boy exclaimed. "The alarm¡ªwhat does it mean?" Gerhardt turned to him slowly, his expression a mix of anger and resignation. "It means, boy," he said, his voice cold, "that the Baron is dead. And that something far worse than him is now out there." The young mage''s eyes widened at Gerhardt''s words. His voice trembled as he asked, "What should we do, Master Gerhardt?" The old wizard turned, his gaze fierce and unwavering. He gripped his staff tightly, the gnarled wood thrumming with latent power. "We prepare for war," he said firmly, his voice echoing through the library. Hours later, the preparations in Baron Geisler''s territory reached their peak. The once bustling villages and markets were now silent, save for the rhythmic clatter of armor and weapons. The Baron''s army, a formidable force of knights, foot soldiers, and mages, stood in perfect formation. Rows of shields gleamed under the harsh sun, their polished surfaces reflecting the fiery determination etched on every soldier''s face. Their faces were masks of fury. Fury for their fallen leader. Fury for their comrades who had perished. Fury for the monster that dared challenge their might. The knights stood in three solid phalanxes, their tall kite shields locked together like an impenetrable wall. Each shield bore the emblem of House Geisler¡ªa crimson wolf howling at the moon. Behind them, rows of archers waited, their longbows strung with taut sinew, arrows knocked and ready to fly. The mages were scattered amongst the ranks, their robes billowing in the wind, hands glowing faintly with magical energy. Their faces were grim, their eyes fixed on the horizon. The foot soldiers, armed with spears and swords, filled the gaps, their expressions hardened by years of battle. Some muttered prayers under their breath. Others simply tightened their grips on their weapons, their knuckles white with tension. At the forefront of the formation stood Gerhardt, his staff planted firmly in the ground. The old wizard''s piercing blue eyes scanned the gathered army, his face a mask of grim resolve. He raised his staff high, and a pulse of magic swept over the soldiers, filling them with renewed vigor. "We march," Gerhardt bellowed, his voice carrying over the assembled troops, "to avenge the Baron! To avenge your brothers! And to show the world that no beast, no savage, no monster, can stand against the might of House Geisler!" A deafening roar erupted from the army. Shields clanged against swords, and the air vibrated with the sound of their battle cries. "FOR THE BARON!" "FOR OUR HONOR!" "FOR VENGEANCE!" Chapter 233 Wild Orcs Meanwhile, deep in a dense, shadowy forest, Volk tread carefully through the underbrush.The towering trees above formed a canopy so thick that only dappled sunlight broke through, casting eerie patterns on the ground. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, and the distant calls of unseen creatures echoed faintly. Volk pulled out the map once again. It vibrated softly in his hands, its surface glowing with shifting colors. He studied it closely, his sharp eyes scanning the markings. The dark green dots representing his horde members still pulsed faintly, scattered across the human kingdom and the Grand Canyon. The yellow-green markings in the elven lands glowed faintly, representing the elves tied to his horde. The red dots, the perished members, remained a painful reminder of those he had already lost. But now, a new color has appeared. It was a silvery-metal hue, unlike anything he had seen before. The silver markings were scattered in two distinct patterns. Some were single lines, while others were double lines. As he traced the markings with his finger, Volk''s brow furrowed in thought. "Silver," he muttered to himself. "And transparent inside... what are you?" The lines seemed to represent something alive, but not human. After some deliberation, Volk came to a conclusion. "These must be... other tribes." His voice rumbled softly. "The one-line markings... What are they?." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "And the two-line markings too." He stood still for a moment, his mind racing. The map was guiding him, urging him to rebuild. To gather. "The horde," Volk whispered. "If I''m to be a Warchief, I need them all. So I must check them all." Not long. The markings closest to him were a cluster of single-line silver dots. He didn''t know what they were, however, they were near, perhaps a few hours'' travel through the forest. Volk''s decision came quickly. "Single line first," he muttered. He tucked the map back into his shorts and adjusted his gauntlets. His eyes scanned the forest ahead, his senses sharp for any sign of movement. The air was still, but Volk knew better than to trust it. As he began his march, his massive frame moved with surprising stealth, his steps barely disturbing the forest floor. The distant sound of birdsong faded as he pushed deeper into the woods. The forest was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves under Volk''s heavy boots. He pulled out the map once more, its soft glow lighting his rugged features as he scrutinized the markings. His eyes landed on the nearest silver line¡ªa single circle¡ªand he paused, his brow furrowed. "What kind of monster is this?" he muttered to himself. "An Orc like me... or one of those Ogres like my Radioactive form?" His massive finger traced the line on the map, and he noticed the cluster it represented: six dots. He tilted his head, narrowing his gaze. After a moment of careful observation, his lips curled into a surprised grin. "Four females... and two males," he murmured. "So, it''s Orcs, not Ogres. Single line means Orc. Double line must mean Ogre." Satisfied with his deduction, Volk tucked the map back into his armored shorts. He shook his head and laughed softly to himself. "And here I thought I''d find some hulking brute waiting to smash me into the dirt." As he pressed forward, the sunlight filtering through the forest canopy grew dimmer. His thoughts churned as he moved, his sharp mind dissecting the situation. "How do I invite an Orc to join my horde?" he wondered aloud. "Do I demand it? Fight them? Offer something in return?" The question lingered, unanswered. Volk''s instincts told him that brute force might not work. Orcs were proud, stubborn creatures, much like himself. If he came in swinging, they''d resist out of principle, even if they respected his strength. "Respect," he muttered. "Maybe that''s the key." With that thought, Volk straightened his posture and continued, the massive trees parting slightly as he approached the silver markings. The faint sound of conversation reached Volk''s ears before he saw them. The voices were gruff, tinged with the harsh accent of his kind. He slowed his pace, peering through the dense underbrush. There they were: six Orcs. Two males and four females stood in a loose circle, their postures relaxed but alert. They wore patched leather armor and carried crude weapons¡ªaxes, clubs, and daggers. One of the males had a large scar running down his face, his hand resting on the hilt of a jagged blade. The females looked equally fierce, their sharp eyes scanning the forest as they talked. Volk emerged from the trees, his massive frame causing a branch to snap loudly underfoot. The Orcs whipped around, weapons drawn, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of him. "Who goes there?" barked the scarred male, his blade gleaming in the dappled light. Volk raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Easy," he rumbled, his deep voice carrying a note of calm authority. "I''m not here to fight." The Orcs didn''t lower their weapons, but their tension eased slightly. The females exchanged glances, their expressions wary but curious. One of them, a tall female with braided hair and a chipped axe, stepped forward. "You''re... like us," she said, her voice tinged with suspicion. Volk nodded. "I am." The scarred male scowled. "That doesn''t mean you''re welcome here, stranger. State your business." Volk took a step closer, his massive presence causing the group to instinctively take a step back. He kept his voice steady, respectful. "My name is Volk. I''m forming a horde." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. The Orcs exchanged looks, their expressions shifting from suspicion to intrigue. "A horde?" one of the younger females asked, her brow furrowing. "What for?" "To reclaim what''s ours," Volk said simply. "To fight back against the humans who hunt us, the Ogres who see us as lesser, and anyone else who thinks we''re just fodder for their wars." His words seemed to strike a chord. The Orcs lowered their weapons slightly, their postures relaxing further. The scarred male stepped forward, his expression skeptical. "And what makes you think we''d follow you, Volk? We don''t even know you." Volk met his gaze evenly. "I''m not asking you to follow me blindly. I''ll prove myself if I have to. But I''m offering something none of us have had in a long time." "What''s that?" the braided female asked, her voice softer now. "A purpose," Volk said firmly. The group fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Volk extended his hand, his massive palm open in a gesture of trust. "I''ll ask once, and I''ll respect your answer. Will you join my horde?" The Orcs hesitated, their eyes darting between Volk and each other. Finally, the scarred male stepped forward, his scarred face set in a determined scowl. He reached out and clasped Volk''s forearm in a firm grip. "You''ve got guts, Volk," he said gruffly. "I''ll follow you." One by one, the others stepped forward, their expressions resolute. Each clasped Volk''s arm, pledging their allegiance. The braided female was the last. She hesitated for a moment before gripping his forearm tightly. "Don''t make us regret this," she said, her voice carrying a note of warning. Volk grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. "You won''t." As they stood together, Volk suddenly felt a subtle shift in the air. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 234 Volk vs All The air grew tense the moment Volk clasped forearms with the last Orc.Something in their body language shifted¡ªa subtle hardening, a slight narrowing of their eyes, and the faintest tightening of their grips on their weapons. Volk wasn''t caught off guard. He''d expected something was off from the way they exchanged looks, but the speed at which they moved was startling. The scarred male lunged first, his jagged blade slicing through the air with a whoosh. Volk barely sidestepped in time, the blade grazing past his ribs with a sharp swish. A club swung toward his face from the left, but he ducked, the heavy weapon missing him by mere inches and hitting the trunk of a tree with a loud CRACK! Volk leaped backward, gaining distance from the sudden ambush. His sharp eyes scanned the group as they spread out, encircling him like predators stalking prey. "What''s the meaning of this?" Volk growled, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. The braided female sneered, her chipped axe gleaming in the slanted sunlight. "You don''t get to just ask us to join you. What kind of fool walks into these woods thinking he can build a horde without spilling blood?" Another Orc, a younger male with sharp teeth and wild eyes, barked a laugh. "This forest isn''t some fairy tale! It''s ruled by gangs, and your casual demand is an insult to us and our pride." The scarred male stepped forward, his voice dripping with disdain. "You want a horde? Prove you''re worthy of leading one. Defeat us¡ªall of us¡ªat once!" Volk''s brow furrowed, and he let out a long sigh, his breath visible in the cool forest air. He wasn''t surprised by their hostility. Orcs were a proud and combative race; respect wasn''t something they handed out freely. Still, this was far from ideal. Shaking his head, Volk glanced toward the distant tree line. He could feel it¡ªthe subtle vibrations of the ground beneath his feet. Humans were coming, likely the first wave of Baron Geisler''s enraged knights or the so called other Barons. He didn''t want to waste time explaining or reasoning. These Orcs wouldn''t listen, and frankly, Volk didn''t care to explain himself. If they needed a fight to be convinced, then so be it. Volk flexed his massive hands, the thick muscles of his forearms rippling as he stepped forward into the center of the circle. The group tensed, their weapons ready. "Fine," Volk said, his voice low and gravelly. "But don''t blame me when you regret this." With a faint hum of magical energy, Volk''s gauntlet materialized around his right hand. It glimmered in the afternoon sunlight, the intricate runes etched into its surface glowing faintly. The sight of it made the six Orcs hesitate, their eyes narrowing as they took in the weapon''s otherworldly appearance. The braided female scoffed, tightening her grip on her axe. "A fancy glove won''t save you, stranger." Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk didn''t respond. He simply clenched his gauntleted fist, the metallic plating emitting a faint whine as it adjusted to his movement. They came at him all at once, their roars echoing through the forest like a cacophony of thunder. The scarred male led the charge, his blade slicing downward in a powerful arc. Volk raised his gauntlet to block, the impact ringing out with a resounding CLANG! Sparks flew as metal met magic, and the scarred Orc stumbled back, his blade vibrating in his hands. From the side, the younger male lunged with a dagger aimed at Volk''s ribs. Volk twisted his body, the blade narrowly missing him, and delivered a swift backhand with his gauntleted hand. WHAM! The younger Orc flew several feet, landing with a heavy thud against a tree. The braided female and another Orc, wielding a spiked mace, attacked in unison. The female swung her axe with deadly precision, while the mace-wielder aimed for Volk''s knees. Volk ducked under the axe, the blade passing just over his head with a sharp whoosh. He stomped his foot down on the incoming mace, the ground shaking with the force of his movement. BOOM! The mace shattered, its wielder crying out in shock as the weapon''s fragments scattered across the forest floor. The other two Orcs joined the fray, their movements fast and calculated. One wielded dual knives, slashing at Volk from both sides, while the other used a crude spear, jabbing at him relentlessly. Volk found himself dodging and weaving, his gauntlet absorbing some of the blows but leaving him little room to counterattack. The scarred male roared, charging again with his blade raised high. This time, Volk didn''t dodge. He met the Orc head-on, his gauntleted fist slamming into the flat of the blade with a deafening BANG! The sword shattered, and the scarred Orc staggered back, his hands bleeding from the force of the impact. Volk pressed the advantage, his movements a blur of raw power and precision. He caught the spear-wielding Orc by the shaft of his weapon, snapping it in half with a single twist. CRACK! A swift kick sent the Orc sprawling, his weaponless hands scrabbling at the dirt as he tried to regain his footing. The fight dragged on, the forest ringing with the sounds of battle¡ªCLANGS, THUDS, and SHOUTS¡ªas Volk systematically dismantled his opponents. The braided female was the last to fall. She came at Volk with a feral scream, her axe swinging wildly. Volk sidestepped her first strike, caught her wrist on the second, and slammed her into the ground with a resounding BOOM! Breathing heavily, Volk stood over the fallen Orcs. They groaned in pain, their bodies battered and bruised but alive. Volk raised his gauntleted hand, its glow fading as the magic receded. "Enough," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I don''t have time for your pride. You wanted strength? You''ve seen it." The scarred male struggled to his feet, his legs shaking as he faced Volk. He nodded slowly, his expression one of grudging respect. "You''re strong," he admitted. "Stronger than any Orc I''ve ever fought." The braided female groaned from the ground, propping herself up on one elbow. "Fine," she muttered. "We''ll join your horde. But don''t think we''ll go easy on you just because you won this fight." Volk allowed himself a small smirk. "Good. I wouldn''t want it any other way." As he extended a hand to help the braided female to her feet, the distant sound of marching reached his ears. His smile faded. The sound of marching was growing louder, faint at first but unmistakable¡ªa steady rhythm of boots trampling the earth, accompanied by the metallic clatter of armor and weapons. The humans were drawing closer, and Volk didn''t need to see them to know they were coming in numbers far greater than he could face alone. He turned to the six Orcs, who were now gathered in a rough semicircle around him. They still bore the bruises and scrapes from their fight, but their eyes were alert, their bodies tense and ready for action. They had seen his strength and acknowledged it, but now it was time for them to prove their worth to him. "Listen carefully," Volk said, his voice calm but firm, cutting through the ambient noise of the forest like a blade. "We don''t have much time. The humans are on their way, and they won''t stop until they''ve hunted us down. If we want to survive, we need to move now¡ªand we need to make sure they can''t track us." Chapter 235 Escape Volk''s eyes swept over the group, his gaze sharp and calculating.The gauntlet''s system interface was still active, hovering faintly in his peripheral vision. He could see their names, levels, and basic stats displayed in glowing runes. Scarred Male: Level 18, specializing in melee combat and survival tactics. Braided Female: Level 17, a swift and precise fighter with strong leadership instincts. Young Male with Dagger: Level 14, an agile skirmisher, ideal for quick strikes and distractions. Mace-Wielding Orc: Level 16, strong but slow, excellent for creating obstacles. Spear-Wielder: Level 15, a defensive fighter with solid endurance. Dual Knife Fighter: Level 13, skilled in stealth and ambush tactics. These are the reasons Volk can beat them: he is level twenty-five and found it easier to fight. He also had these advantages when he fought the Baron, which is why Volk can defeat him easily. However, the Baron was also level twenty-five, just like Volk. His men, or the cavalry that Volk destroyed, were not far in levels compared to their Baron. Although the levels of the Orcs in front of him were respectable, they were not high enough to stand against a full human army. Volk knew that their strengths lay in speed, cunning, and adaptability¡ªnot in direct confrontation. Soon, he proceeded to the plan. "We''re going to split into two groups," Volk began, his tone even. "I''ll lead one group to the east, away from the humans'' path. The other group will head west, creating a distraction. Your job isn''t to fight them head-on but to mislead them, confuse them, and slow them down." The scarred male frowned, his deep voice rumbling. "A distraction? What kind of distraction?" Volk smirked. "The kind that makes them think they''ve already found us. Start fires, leave tracks, break branches¡ªmake it look like a large group was traveling west. But keep moving. Never stay in one place for too long." He pointed to the braided female and the young male with the dagger. "You two are fast and resourceful. You''ll lead the distraction team. Take the dual knife fighter with you. Your job is to keep them chasing shadows while we circle around and head south." The braided female nodded, her expression serious. "Understood." Volk continued, his voice steady and commanding. "Scarred male, you''re with me. You and the spear-wielder will help carry supplies and cover our tracks. Mace-wielder, you''re with them." The mace-wielding Orc glanced at the braided female, then back at Volk. "Why me? I''m not fast like them. Plus, I have a name¡­" "Introduce yourself later," Volk said simply. "You''re strong, so it''s better to make sure you''ll make sure they can knock over trees, boulders, anything that can slow the humans down. Use your strength to leave a path of destruction that makes it look like an entire horde passed through." The mace-wielder grunted but nodded, clearly understanding his role. Soon, the preparation for the distraction commenced. "Now, move quickly," Volk said, gesturing for them to scatter. "But remember¡ªdon''t get caught. If they corner you, don''t fight unless you have no other choice. Your job is to buy us time, not to die pointlessly." The braided female, already taking charge of her team, turned to the others. "You heard him! Let''s go!" Her group moved swiftly, gathering sticks, dry leaves, and anything flammable. Within minutes, they had set up several small fires along their intended path, the smoke beginning to rise in thin columns that would catch the humans'' attention. The dual knife fighter crouched low, using his blades to carve false trails into the soft earth, while the mace-wielder toppled a small tree with a loud CRACK! The sound echoed through the forest, a perfect bait for the approaching army. Meanwhile, Volk led his group eastward, his pace steady but deliberate. He moved with the confidence of someone who knew the terrain instinctively, even though he had not been in the area even for a short time. The scarred male walked beside him, glancing occasionally at Volk''s gauntlet. "That thing," he said, his voice low. "What is it?" "A tool," Volk replied curtly, not breaking stride. "One that helps me see things others can''t." The scarred male grunted, accepting the answer without further question. The spear-wielder lagged slightly behind, his sharp eyes scanning the forest for any signs of pursuit. "Do you think they''ll take the bait?" "They will," Volk said with certainty. "Humans are predictable. They''ll chase what''s obvious, especially when they''re angry and looking for revenge." Soon, the distraction should be taken to action. Back to the west, the braided female''s team was executing their part of the plan flawlessly. The fires they had set were now roaring, sending thick plumes of smoke into the sky. They left broken branches and overturned rocks in their wake, creating the illusion of a large, clumsy group on the move. The young male with the dagger darted ahead, slashing at tree trunks to leave fresh marks. He turned to the braided female, his voice tinged with excitement. "Think this''ll fool them?" "It doesn''t need to fool them for long," she replied. "Just enough to keep them off Volk''s trail." The mace-wielder, sweating from the effort of his labor, leaned against a tree for a moment. "How long do we keep this up?" "Until we can''t hear their marching anymore," the braided female said. "Now stop whining and push that boulder over. It''ll block their path for at least an hour." With a grunt of effort, the mace-wielder heaved against the boulder, sending it crashing down a slope with a thunderous BOOM! Soon, their marched continues. Volk glanced at the map as they moved, noting the positions of the approaching humans. The distraction was working; the bulk of the army had veered westward, chasing the false trail. But a smaller group was still heading east, following what must have been the remnants of his original tracks. "Scarred male," Volk said, his tone sharp. "We need to pick up the pace. The humans are splitting up, and some are still on our trail." The scarred male nodded, his expression grim. "What about the others?" "They''ll be fine," Volk said confidently. "They''re strong, and they know what they''re doing." For now, all they could do was trust the plan and keep moving. After traveling for a short time, Volk stopped in his tracks as the youngest of the Orcs¡ªthe wiry male with a dagger always in hand¡ªtilted his head and asked, "What are the humans?" The question caught Volk off guard. His brow furrowed as he turned to face them, the forest shadows dancing across his rough features. "What do you mean, what are humans? You don''t know?" They have been running for a while, creating distractions and now they are telling him that they have no idea what humans are? Are these Orcs really from this realm or they were sent here from other dimensions just like them? Are they really that wild? Read the latest on empire Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The six Orcs exchanged glances, their expressions varying between confusion and curiosity. The braided female folded her arms, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Hmm?" The mace-wielder grunted innocently, resting his massive weapon on his shoulder. "Uh?" The spear-wielder was also curious, his tone cautious. "Humans?" Chapter 236 Suicidal Horde Volk sighed, it seems he needed to explain, running a hand over the gleaming surface of his gauntlet.He hadn''t expected to become a teacher, but it was clear these wild Orcs were as uninformed as they were defiant. "Humans," he began, his voice steady, "are creatures like us. Flesh and blood. But they''re smaller, weaker. They don''t have our strength or endurance." The group nodded, their expressions ranging from mild interest to boredom. "But what they lack in physical strength," Volk continued, his tone darkening, "they make up for with numbers, weapons, and cunning. They build massive armies, wear shining metal armor to protect themselves, and use tools that can pierce even the toughest hide. They are relentless." The young dagger-wielder''s brow furrowed. "Tools? Like this?" He held up his weapon. "Not like that," Volk replied, shaking his head. "Their weapons are long-range. They can strike you down from a distance before you even get close. Arrows, bolts, fire¡­ things that explode." This caught their attention. The braided female straightened, her eyes narrowing further. "Fire? Explosions?" "Yes," Volk said grimly. "And their leaders are clever. They use tactics, strategy. They''ll encircle you, cut off your escape, and grind you down until you have no choice but to die or surrender." The group stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. But then the braided female''s expression shifted, her lips curling into a sneer. "So¡­ they''re cowards." The mace-wielder barked a laugh, the sound loud and guttural. "Hiding behind their little toys because they''re too weak to fight us head-on? That''s pathetic!" The spear-wielder slammed the butt of his weapon into the ground. "And you want us to fear them because of that? Let them come! We''ll crush their shiny armor and feast on their soft flesh!" Volk was speechless to their reactions. Each of the Orcs responded in their own way, their emotions on full display: The braided female''s face twisted into disdain. "Humans sound like nothing more than pests. Weak, skittering creatures who rely on tricks. I''d like to see one try to fight me without their toys. I''d break them in half with my bare hands." The scarred male''s eyes gleamed with anger. "If they''re so clever, why haven''t they wiped us out already? I''ll tell you why¡ªthey''re afraid. Afraid to face us in real combat." The young dagger-wielder grinned wickedly. "If they use fire and explosions, we''ll use the forest. Let''s see how clever they are when they''re surrounded by flames and have no way out." The mace-wielder laughed again, louder this time. "Shiny armor? Let''s see how shiny it is after I flatten it! Their metal toys won''t save them from a real fight!" The spear-wielder''s lips curled into a snarl. "We''ve hunted beasts ten times their size. If humans are so fragile, they''ll fall just as easily. Let them come!" The dual knife fighter remained silent but smirked, sharpening his blades against each other, clearly relishing the thought of slicing through human ranks. As if the fury were ignited, the group grew more animated, their voices overlapping as they fed off each other''s confidence and anger. "They won''t stand a chance!" "We''ll rip them apart!" "Their shiny metal won''t protect them from us!" "Let them come! We''ll make them regret ever stepping into our forest!" Volk watched them carefully, his jaw tightening but was almost down the ground. Their rage was palpable, their disdain for the unknown humans boiling over into arrogance. It was clear they believed themselves invincible, despite having never encountered the humans'' true might. Soon, Volk decided to give them doubts. As the noise died down, Volk shook his head slowly. "You don''t understand," he said, his voice calm but firm. "This isn''t a fight you can win through strength alone. The humans have entire armies¡ªthousands of soldiers, each equipped with weapons designed to kill creatures like us." But his words only seemed to fan their flames. "We''ll fight to the death if we have to!" the braided female declared. "Better to die standing than to live in fear of these cowards!" The scarred male nodded in agreement. "We''ve survived this long without running. Why start now?" The young dagger-wielder smirked. "If they''re coming for us, let''s make sure they regret it. Their shiny little toys won''t save them from the bloodbath we''ll bring." Volk was beginning to feel frustration. Volk felt a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. He understood their pride, their defiance, but he also knew it could get them killed. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. If they rushed into battle against an organized human force, they wouldn''t stand a chance. Yet how could he convince them? These were wild Orcs, unaccustomed to taking orders or thinking beyond the immediate fight. To them, fear was weakness, and retreat was unthinkable. For the first time since meeting them, Volk felt genuinely uncertain. Should he try to force them to flee, knowing it would only sow resentment? Or should he let them fight, knowing it could lead to their deaths? The map in his gauntlet glimmered faintly, marking the positions of the advancing humans. Time was running out, and Volk had to decide. For now, he stood there, watching the defiant faces of his new horde, his mind racing. What was the right choice? What should he say? Suddenly, Volk''s lips curled into a sly grin as an idea formed in his mind. He couldn''t let these six hot-headed Orcs throw their lives away in a reckless charge. If he wanted to keep them alive and build something greater, he had to appeal to their primal instincts¡ªstrength, hunger, and pride. Raising his hand to silence their fiery declarations, he spoke with an air of authority. "I understand your rage. I feel it too," Volk began, his deep voice carrying through the forest like a low growl. The six Orcs paused, their angry mutterings subsiding as they turned to him, eager to hear their new leader''s thoughts. "I''ve seen humans fall. I''ve crushed them beneath my hands and torn through their ranks. But let me tell you this: fighting them now would be foolish." He let those words hang in the air for a moment, watching as confusion and skepticism flickered across their faces. Continue your story on empire The braided female, always the most vocal, scowled and stepped forward. "Foolish? They''re nothing but prey! Why should we wait when we can take their lives now?" Volk raised a hand to stop her, his expression unyielding. "Because, warriors, I don''t want to waste them." The six Orcs were shocked, waste them? The group blinked in unison, their expressions ranging from bewilderment to curiosity. The scarred male tilted his head, his lips curling into a puzzled sneer. "Waste them? What are you talking about?" Volk''s grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dappled sunlight. "I don''t want to fight the humans now because they''re more useful to us alive... for now." This statement caused a ripple of confusion. The young dagger-wielder scratched his head, his pointed ears twitching. "Useful? Humans? What kind of trick is this, Warchief?" Volk leaned in, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone, forcing them to listen closely. "Their flesh and blood. Their bones. All of it. That''s what I''m talking about." Chapter 237 Another horde ahead Soon, Volk was thinking of a grand feast!The braided female frowned. "You mean... food?" Your next chapter is on empire "Yes, food!" Volk barked, his voice brimming with conviction. He gestured toward the forest, as if envisioning a grand future. "We are building something here. A new horde. A mighty horde! And what better way to celebrate this union than with a feast? Not just any feast¡ªa feast of humans!" The group''s eyes widened at the thought. Volk''s tone grew more intense, his words like a hammer striking an anvil. "Think about it. Their flesh roasted over the fire, their bones turned into weapons, their blood spilled in honor of our new alliance. A true celebration of strength and unity!" Well, that was his intention anyway. The scarred male nodded slowly, a grin spreading across his scarred face. "A feast... a celebration... I like this idea, Warchief." Volk held up a hand. "But we cannot celebrate with just the six of you. That would be selfish. Greedy. I am no weakling who hoards glory for himself! If we strike now, we risk losing too many, or worse¡ªalerting the humans to our plans." The braided female frowned. "So what do we do?" Volk crossed his arms, his tone decisive. "We wait. We bide our time. We use this moment to grow stronger. To gather more warriors. Every Orc out there is a potential ally. "Every one of them adds to our strength. When the time is right, when our numbers swell like a rising tide, we will strike. And the humans will fall beneath our blades!" The reactions of the Orcs was surreal. The braided female''s eyes gleamed with excitement, her earlier anger replaced by a feral grin. "A grand feast... and a bigger horde to share it with. I like this plan." The mace-wielder laughed heartily, slamming his weapon against the ground with a loud CLANG. "The humans won''t see it coming! They''ll be too busy trembling in their little metal suits while we roast their friends!" The spear-wielder, ever cautious, nodded thoughtfully. "It makes sense. A horde isn''t a horde if it''s small. We need to be unstoppable when we move." The young dagger-wielder smirked, his sharp teeth glinting. "And when we do move, their flesh will be ours. I''ll carve it myself!" Even the dual knife fighter, usually silent, grunted in approval, his blades flashing as he sharpened them in preparation for the promised hunt. His confidence surged like a thick warrior blood. Inside, Volk was grinning for a completely different reason. They believed him. Every single one of them. He had spun the lie with such conviction that their fiery pride had been channeled into something useful. He clenched his gauntleted fist, feeling the weight of his deception. "Let''s go!" he commanded, his voice booming through the forest. "We have allies to find and humans to prepare for our feast!" "Lok''Tar Ogar!" they roared in unison, their voices echoing through the trees, filled with bloodlust and anticipation. As they began to move, Volk muttered under his breath, a sly grin on his face. "Let''s go, indeed. Lok''Tar Ogar." He wasn''t just gathering a horde. He was buying time, maneuvering them away from the humans, and preparing for the next stage of his conquest. Volk knew he would need their loyalty and their strength. Even if it meant spinning more lies along the way. The forest buzzed with the murmur of Volk''s growing horde. Wild Orcs of all shapes and sizes, scarred and feral, now marched under his banner. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He had recruited forty members, and every one of them bore bruises, gashes, or broken weapons from the battles it took to make them submit. It wasn''t hard, not for him. The process was simple: beat them into the ground, show them his dominance, and they would swear loyalty. But it was no easy task. Groups of four, five, sometimes six wild Orcs at once had come at him. And the stakes had been high. "If I lose," Volk had declared during those challenges, "the horde leaves me. You can have it all." It never came to that. With his unwavering strength, shit is easy. With every battle, Volk''s reputation grew. His gauntlet shone brightly as he pounded the ground, sending shockwaves through the earth that disoriented his foes. His strikes were precise, powerful, and overwhelming. The fights were short, brutal, and decisive. By the time Volk stood over yet another bruised and groaning Orc gang, they were already swearing their allegiance through bloodied lips. "Warchief!" they would cry, slamming their fists to their chests. Volk would nod, his face grim but victorious. "Welcome to the horde." Soon, they were now an army. As the numbers swelled, the newest recruits brought tales of another group of Orcs further ahead. This time, the story wasn''t about a ragtag gang of wildlings. No, this was different. Volk was walking at the head of his horde when one of the newer recruits¡ªa lean, wiry Orc with sharpened teeth¡ªjogged to catch up with him. "Warchief," the recruit began, his tone low and cautious. "What is it?" Volk asked, keeping his eyes forward. "There''s... there''s another gang ahead," the Orc said hesitantly. Volk stopped in his tracks, and the entire horde followed suit. The rustle of leaves and the occasional grunt of an Orc were the only sounds in the still forest. Volk turned to the recruit, his sharp gaze pinning him in place. "How many?" Volk asked, his voice calm but firm. The recruit swallowed hard, glancing at the others as if unsure whether he should continue. "At least thirty," he said finally. "Maybe more." Volk crossed his arms, his gauntleted hand glinting in the dappled sunlight. "Thirty, almost the same as us, we are just a little bigger," he repeated thoughtfully. "A big group. How does one Orc command so many?" The recruit hesitated again, but another member¡ªa burly female Orc with a broken tusk¡ªstepped forward to answer. "The leader," she said, her voice tinged with both awe and bitterness. "He''s... not like the others." Volk raised an eyebrow. "Not like the others? Explain." "He''s a gladiator," she said, her hands clenching into fists. "An escaped one. From the human arenas." The murmurs in the horde grew louder at this revelation. Volk''s eyes narrowed. "A gladiator? You mean he fought in the human pits?" The female Orc nodded. "Yes. They say he fought beasts, humans, Ogres, even other Orcs. And he won. Over and over. That''s why so many follow him. He''s that strong." Soon, a strange feeling was poured to them. The mention of the gladiator sparked unease among the ranks. Volk could hear their muttered concerns. "He survived the human arenas?" "Those places break the strongest warriors." "If he escaped, he must be even stronger than the Warchief." Volk remained silent, letting them voice their doubts. His gaze was distant, as if weighing the information carefully. Finally, he raised a hand, silencing the group. "So," he said slowly, "this gladiator escaped the arenas, built a gang of thirty Orcs, and now he''s ahead of us." He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "That''s a dangerous plot twist." The horde fell silent, watching him closely, waiting for his next move. Chapter 238 Confrontation The forest was darker here, the canopy thick with gnarled branches that clawed at the sky.Sunlight barely seeped through, casting the clearing in a hazy twilight. At the center of this gloom, an Orc stood¡ªa mountain of muscle and menace. His skin was a mottled gray-green, scarred and rough like the bark of an ancient tree. A jagged, broken tusk jutted from his lower jaw, and his eyes glowed faintly with a predatory gleam. Thick cords of muscle wrapped around his arms, and his chest was bare except for a necklace of human teeth strung tightly around his neck. In his hand, he held a cruelly forged axe, the edges darkened from countless battles. This was Kragath, the arena gladiator. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Soon, he would prepare his massive sword and shield made of hardened wood and steel. Kragath stood motionless, his piercing gaze locked on the group of Orcs approaching through the forest. His warriors, thirty strong, milled about the clearing behind him, sharpening their weapons or feasting on dried meats. They were a disciplined lot, hardened by their leader''s ruthless training. One of his warriors, a wiry, dark-skinned Orc with sharp features, stepped forward. "Chief," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "those Orcs. Should we attack them? They''re nearing our territory." Kragath didn''t turn to look at the speaker. His eyes stayed fixed on the approaching figures. "No," he said after a pause, his voice deep and deliberate. "Spilling blood for no reason weakens the horde. I will not waste our strength on a fight that has no honor." The warrior frowned, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade. "Then what, Chief? Let them come to us unchallenged?" Kragath''s lips curled into a grim smile, and he finally turned to face his follower. "No. I will challenge their leader to a Mak''Gora. If we fight them head on¡ªgang to gang, there will be huge consequences to each side and I won''t like that¡­" And then, Kragath would mumble to himself, ''and they won''t like it too. So yes, he would proceed to the Mak''Gora Decision. Mak''Gora is a traditionala Orc ritual from that was written on their bloodline. It is a formal challenge or duel that often involves combat, typically between two Orc individuals. The ritual serves as a means to resolve disputes, restore honor, or establish dominance, and it is deeply rooted in Klingon values of honor and strength. During a Mak''Gora, the participants engage in combat until one of them is unable to continue, often leading to the death of one combatant. The process is highly ritualized, with strict rules and a code of conduct that reflects the Orc warrior ethos. The outcome is considered a matter of honor, and the victor gains respect and status. The warrior flinched at the word, his brows furrowing in concern. "Mak''Gora?" he asked hesitantly. "But, Chief, none of the other gangs ever accept your challenge. They all know you''re from the human arenas. They fear you." Kragath chuckled darkly, his broken tusk glinting in the faint light. "Fear is a weakness," he growled. "If this one turns down the challenge, his horde will know he is a coward. And if he accepts... well, then I''ll show them why I am their rightful leader." The warrior nodded reluctantly, though doubt flickered in his eyes. As Kragath turned his attention back to the approaching group, he squinted at the figure leading them. The Orc at the front walked with a commanding presence, his head held high and his steps purposeful. His armor glinted faintly, and a strange gauntlet adorned his hand, pulsing with faint energy. Kragath narrowed his eyes, watching the stranger with growing intrigue. "Plus, look at him," Kragath muttered, almost to himself. "That one will accept." ¡­ Soon, enough, Volk marched at the head of his newly formed horde, his sharp gaze sweeping over the clearing. The air here was heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint metallic tang of blood. He could feel the eyes of Orc''s gang boring into him, their suspicion and hostility practically tangible. As they drew closer, Volk raised a hand, signaling his group to halt. He stepped forward alone, his gauntlet gleaming as he walked confidently into the enemy''s territory. Kragath strode out to meet him, his axe resting casually on one shoulder. The two Orcs stood face to face, their imposing figures casting long shadows across the clearing. "What brings you to my land, stranger?" Kragath asked, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. Volk met his gaze unflinchingly. "I am Volk, Warchief of this horde," he said calmly. "And I bring a warning." Then, he gestured broadly to the forest around them. "Humans are coming," he said. "Not just hunters or small patrols. An army. They march to avenge their fallen Baron." Kragath''s eyes narrowed. "Humans? Here?" "Yes," Volk said firmly. "Their numbers are great, and they are angry. They want Orc blood. If we do not unite, they will slaughter us all." Behind Kragath, murmurs broke out among his warriors. Some looked uneasy, others skeptical. Kragath tilted his head, studying Volk closely. "Why should I believe you?" he asked. Volk stepped closer, his voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. "Because I have seen them. I have fought them. They wear shining armor and carry weapons that gleam like the sun. They ride beasts of war and chant songs of conquest. They march to kill, to burn, to destroy. And they will not stop until every Orc in these forests is dead." After that call of unity, Kragath would let out a low growl, his hand tightening on his axe. "If they come, we will fight them. Let them taste our steel." Volk shook his head. "You don''t understand. This isn''t a fight we can win alone. They outnumber us, out-arm us. If we fight them separately, they will crush us. But if we stand together, as one horde, we can break their lines, slaughter their knights, and send them running back to their cities in fear." The murmurs among Kragath''s warriors grew louder. Some nodded in agreement, while others crossed their arms and glared at Volk with suspicion. "And what happens after?" Kragath asked, his voice laced with distrust. "You want me to bend the knee to you? To follow your orders?" Volk met his gaze steadily. "I don''t care who leads," he said. "All that matters is survival. If you''re strong enough to command this horde, then prove it. But first, we must fight together." Kragath stared at Volk for a long moment, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Finally, he nodded slowly. "You speak well," he said. "But words are wind. Strength is what matters among Orcs. If you want my horde to join yours, then prove your worth. Fight me in Mak''Gora." Volk smirked. "I thought you''d never ask." The horde erupted into cheers and roars of anticipation as the two Orcs prepared to face off. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the promise of violence. Volk clenched his gauntlet, the faint hum of its power resonating in his ears. He had no intention of losing this fight. If he was to unite the Orcs, he would do it the only way they understood: through strength and dominance. Chapter 239 Warm Up The clearing was alive with anticipation. Orcs from both hordes formed a wide circle, their roars and chants echoing through the dense forest.Volk and Kragath stood at the center, sizing each other up like two massive predators on the verge of battle. Volk rolled his shoulders, his gauntlet humming faintly as he flexed his fingers. Kragath stood opposite him, his massive axe resting on the ground but within easy reach, its jagged edge gleaming in the faint light. Kragath was the first to speak, his voice a low rumble. "You walk into my territory, speak of unity, and dare to challenge me in Mak''Gora. Tell me, stranger¡ªwho are you?" Volk smirked, his sharp tusks glinting. "I am Volk. A Warchief from a realm beyond this one. I fight to unite the Orcs and face the threat of the humans. Who are you to deny me this?" Kragath''s lips curled into a grin. "Kragath. Arena Gladiator, Champion of the Bloody Sands, and the one who will crush you if you are unworthy." Volk''s gaze didn''t waver. He raised his gauntlet, pointing it directly at Kragath. "Mak''Gora!" "Mak''Gora!" Kragath roared in response, his voice shaking the very trees around them. The crowd fell silent as the two warriors lunged at each other. Volk''s gauntlet flared with energy as he swung a brutal right hook, aiming for Kragath''s side. But the gladiator was fast¡ªhis axe came up in a smooth arc, intercepting the blow with a deafening CLANG! Sparks flew as metal met magic. They separated, circling each other like wolves. It was their first clash, a masterful first clash! "You''re strong," Kragath said, his tone almost approving. "Most Orcs can''t withstand a single clash with me." Volk shrugged, his eyes never leaving Kragath''s. "I was born strong. Strength is my birthright." Kragath chuckled. "Born strong? I earned mine. Every scar on this body, every bone I''ve broken¡ªit''s all been forged in the arenas." They charged again. Kragath''s axe came down in a heavy vertical slash, but Volk sidestepped, his gauntlet catching the haft of the weapon and twisting it aside with a burst of energy. BOOM! The ground beneath them cracked under the force. Volk spun, his fist racing toward Kragath''s ribs, but the gladiator ducked and retaliated with a sweeping kick. Volk staggered back but remained on his feet, with his smirk widening in glee. "You fight well," Volk said, his tone almost playful. "But I''m not one of your arena opponents." Kragath straightened, his axe resting on his shoulder. "Not True. You may think you''re better upon surviving my techniques but this is just a test. Plus, the arenas taught me to expect the worst, but you¡ª" He pointed his axe at Volk. "You fight with purposeful arrogance." After that, he would fake an attack in which Volk would fall too. "See, you are easy¡­" Kragath said. The two Orcs resumed their circling against each other, their muscles taut and their eyes locked. "You talk of purposeful arrogance," Kragath said. "What is it? Why risk your life to unite these gangs? Isn''t it better to live by yourself with your little strength?" Volk''s gauntlet pulsed with energy as he tightened his fist. "Because the humans are coming. They''ll wipe us out if we stay divided." Kragath snorted. "Humans. I''ve fought them in the arenas. Their knights, their swordsmen, even their champions. They''re soft. Weak. What makes you think they''re a threat? Plus, I am sure they won''t come after us even if you killed a high noble, so what makes you think you are too important for them to chase?" "I just know that I will be the Orc''s new hope. I also know they''re soft when it''s one-on-one, but I need to show them what will come to them," Volk countered, his voice rising with conviction. "And they don''t fight alone. This would make them a perfect celebration for the new beginning of the Orc age! They come in waves, endless and relentless. I will unite all of us and I''ll make sure they will be nothing more than corpses on their battlefields and a symbol of the Orc''s new beginning!" Kragath''s expression hardened. "You are talking big, you think you''re the one to unite us? To lead us? You think that''s easy? And you think you are the only one who also had that dream? Where are they now? Huh? Where?" "I don''t know," Volk said, stepping forward. "But it''s better to have a dream than to be stuck in a cave and die in hunger!" With that, he lunged again. This time, he fainted to the left before driving his gauntlet toward Kragath''s chest. The gladiator reacted instinctively, swinging his axe to block, but Volk''s real attack came in the form of a sweeping kick that knocked Kragath off balance. Kragath recovered quickly, his axe slamming into the ground with a thunderous THUD! to steady himself. He grinned through gritted teeth. "You''re clever. I''ll give you that." Immediately, the air grew thick with tension as they clashed again, their strikes more powerful, more calculated. Kragath''s axe cleaved through the air with deadly precision, each swing forcing Volk to move faster, react quicker. WHOOSH! CLANG! BOOM! The sounds of their battle echoed through the forest, sending birds scattering from the trees. "You move like a gladiator yourself," Kragath said between strikes. "Where did you learn to fight?" Volk parried a heavy blow with his gauntlet, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through the ground. "I didn''t learn," he said, his voice strained. "I fought. Every day. Every moment. I fought to survive." Of course, Volk was lying to his teeth, he wouldn''t say it''s from the system. Kragath''s eyes narrowed. "Survival. The ultimate teacher." Their weapons collided again, sending a spray of sparks into the air. Volk pushed forward, his gauntlet glowing brighter with each strike. "And you? Did you enjoy spilling blood for the humans'' entertainment?" Kragath snarled, his swings growing fiercer. "Enjoy it? No. But it made me stronger. Strong enough to never be their slave again." Volk would sneer, "Heh!" And then he would add, "Never be a slave again but don''t have the guts to go against them and dominate them!?" BANG! They broke apart once more, both of them breathing heavily. The circle of Orcs around them watched in awe, their chants and cheers growing louder with each clash. Kragath wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, his grin feral. "You''ve got fire, Volk. I haven''t faced someone like you in years." Volk nodded, a rare flicker of respect in his eyes. "And you''re no ordinary Orc. Your strength is impressive. You''ll be a great commander in my horde!" Kragath laughed, the sound deep and booming. "Impressive? Coming from you, that''s high praise. But you haven''t seen anything from me, yet!" S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They began to circle again, their muscles tense, their weapons ready. "Yes, this isn''t over," Kragath said, his grin fading. "I''ve seen what you can do, and now it''s time to see your limits. I will now show you some little true power of mine!" Volk raised his gauntlet, its glow intensifying. "Why not them all and not best around the bush?" Chapter 240 Huh? What? The forest seemed to hold its breath as Volk and Kragath squared off once more.The circle of Orcs surrounding them erupted into roars, their voices forming a deafening wall of sound. Neither warrior flinched. Their focus was razor-sharp, their muscles coiled like spring-loaded traps. Kragath''s grin widened as he raised his massive axe, the jagged blade catching the sunlight and casting menacing reflections on the ground. "If that''s what you want," he growled. "Show me what kind of Warchief you really are." Volk''s gauntlet hummed with energy as he raised it in defiance. "And you, gladiator. Show me if you''re more than just a slave who fights for scraps." Their weapons clashed with a BOOM! The force of their collision sent shockwaves rippling through the ground. Volk slid back a few feet, his boots digging furrows into the dirt. Kragath didn''t budge. Instead, he surged forward, his axe slicing through the air with terrifying precision. Volk ducked, the blade missing his head by inches, and retaliated with a lightning-fast jab. His gauntlet struck Kragath''s ribs with a CRACK!, but the gladiator barely flinched. He swung his axe in a brutal backhand, forcing Volk to leap back. "You''re quick," Kragath said, his voice carrying a grudging respect. "But quick won''t save you." Volk didn''t reply. He darted in again, his gauntlet glowing as he delivered a flurry of punches aimed at Kragath''s torso. Each blow landed with a THUD!, but Kragath countered with a sweeping kick that caught Volk in the side. WHAM! Volk tumbled but rolled back onto his feet, his gauntlet raised defensively. "Smooth," he muttered, his breathing heavy. "Too smooth." Kragath smirked. "You noticed." The gladiator launched himself forward, his movements fluid and unpredictable. He swung his axe low, forcing Volk to leap, and then twisted mid-swing, bringing the weapon around in a diagonal slash. Volk barely managed to block, his gauntlet sparking violently as it absorbed the impact. "Where did you learn to move like that?" Volk demanded, his voice strained. Kragath pressed the attack, his strikes relentless. "The arenas," he said between swings. "They don''t just train your body. They train your mind. Your reflexes. Every opponent teaches you something new." Volk grunted as he dodged another slash, his gauntlet firing off a burst of energy to push Kragath back. "You fight like Baron Geisler," he said. "But better." Kragath laughed, a harsh, guttural sound. "Humans are weak, even their best warriors. But they have tricks. Tricks that even Orcs can learn and I teach it to you now," he said. Volk charged, his gauntlet aimed at Kragath''s chest, but the gladiator sidestepped with eerie grace. His axe came around in a brutal arc, forcing Volk to twist his body unnaturally to avoid the blade. SHING! The edge of the axe grazed Volk''s armor, tearing through the leather and leaving a shallow cut beneath. Kragath''s axe began to glow faintly, a strange energy radiating from its jagged edge. His movements became even smoother, his strikes more precise. Volk''s eyes narrowed. "You''re using it," he said, his tone accusatory. Kragath grinned. "Of course. The energy. I learned to harness it from watching the humans. It''s not magic. It''s instinct. Focus. You should try it." Volk scowled, his gauntlet pulsing as he gathered energy. "I don''t need tricks to beat you." Kragath lunged again, his axe carving through the air with terrifying speed. Volk blocked with his gauntlet, but the force of the impact sent him stumbling back. Kragath didn''t let up. He pressed forward, his strikes so fast and fluid that Volk barely had time to react. Volk was on the defensive now, his movements growing more desperate. Each of Kragath''s attacks came within a hair''s breadth of landing a fatal blow. CLANG! WHAM! CRACK! Volk''s gauntlet sparked wildly as it absorbed hit after hit. His breathing grew labored, his muscles burning with exertion. "You''re slowing down," Kragath taunted, his strikes unrelenting. "Is that all the strength of a Warchief?" Volk grit his teeth, refusing to yield. He ducked under a horizontal slash and retaliated with an uppercut, his gauntlet flaring as it connected with Kragath''s jaw. KABOOM! The impact sent Kragath staggering, but he recovered almost instantly, his grin never fading. "You''ve got power," he admitted, spitting blood onto the ground. "But power means nothing without control." Volk''s mind raced. Kragath''s energy-enhanced movements were too unpredictable, too smooth. It was like fighting a storm. Every time Volk thought he had an opening, Kragath was already one step ahead. Kragath swung his axe in a vicious overhead strike, and Volk raised his gauntlet to block. The impact sent a shockwave through the clearing, the ground beneath them cracking under the force. BOOM! Volk''s knees buckled, and for a moment, it seemed like he might fall. "Give up," Kragath said, his voice calm but commanding. "You''ve fought well, but you can''t win." Volk glared up at him, his eyes burning with defiance. "I''m not done yet." sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. With a roar, he pushed Kragath back, his gauntlet glowing brighter than ever. He unleashed a barrage of punches, each one faster and more powerful than the last. KRAK! BAM! WHOOSH! Kragath struggled to keep up, his energy-enhanced movements faltering under Volk''s relentless assault. But just as Volk thought he was gaining the upper hand, Kragath''s axe swung in a wide arc, forcing him to leap back. Both warriors were panting now, their bodies battered and bruised. The forest around them was littered with broken branches and craters from their attacks. Kragath smirked, his grip tightening on his axe. "You''re good," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "Almost like those top tier I''ve faced in years." Volk raised his gauntlet, its glow unwavering. "And you''re strong," he admitted. "Strong enough to lead. But I''m stronger." They locked eyes, their determination unshaken. "Are you gonna get serious now?" Kragath asked, his grin widening. Volk nodded, his gauntlet pulsing with renewed energy. "Yes, I''ll finish you off now!" Kragath tightened his grip on his axe, the energy coursing through it crackling audibly. He raised it high, his biceps bulging as he prepared to bring the weapon down in a devastating slash. At the same time, his off-hand sword gleamed, positioned for a secondary strike. This dual-weapon approach was a hallmark of his arena days, a strategy that had crushed countless opponents. Volk stood his ground, his gauntlet humming faintly, his stance low and calm. "Die with honor, Warchief!" Kragath roared, bringing his axe down with earth-shattering force. But Volk was gone. KRA-KOOM! The axe smashed into the ground where Volk had stood, splitting the earth in a jagged crack. Dust and debris exploded into the air. For a moment, Kragath''s confident grin faltered. Then, from his blind spot, Volk darted in. SWOOSH! The air hissed as Volk''s fist shot forward. Kragath twisted at the last second, narrowly avoiding the blow. He swung his sword in retaliation, but Volk ducked under it effortlessly. Kragath blinked. "Lucky," he muttered, spinning around to face Volk again. He surged forward, his axe sweeping horizontally in a wide arc. Volk backflipped out of range, his movements fluid and precise. Kragath pressed the attack, his axe and sword moving in tandem like a whirlwind of steel. Each strike was calculated, his years of gladiatorial experience evident in every motion. But Volk weaved through the onslaught like a shadow. KLANG! The axe missed his head by mere inches. SWISH! The sword grazed the air where his torso had been. Kragath growled in frustration, his attacks becoming more ferocious. "Stand still!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the forest. Volk didn''t respond. He stayed light on his feet, dodging and sidestepping every blow. His gauntlet remained inactive, his fists loose at his sides. It was as if he didn''t need to attack¡ªhe was letting Kragath exhaust himself. The gladiator snarled, shifting tactics. He feinted with his sword, drawing Volk to the left, and then brought his axe around in a brutal diagonal slash. Volk leaned back, the blade missing him by a hair''s breadth. Kragath followed up immediately, thrusting his sword toward Volk''s chest. Volk twisted his body, the blade grazing his armor but failing to pierce it. "What are you?" Kragath growled, his breath heavy. "How are you predicting my moves?" Volk finally spoke, his tone calm and measured. "I''m not predicting anything. I''m just watching." The fight dragged on, Kragath''s movements becoming more erratic. Sweat dripped from his brow, his chest heaving with exertion. Volk, in contrast, seemed unbothered. His breathing remained steady, his eyes sharp. Kragath swung his axe in a massive overhead strike. Volk stepped to the side effortlessly. THUD! The axe embedded itself in the ground, and Kragath had to wrench it free. The realization dawned on him then. Volk wasn''t just lucky. He wasn''t guessing. He was reading Kragath''s every move. Every shift of his shoulders, every twitch of his fingers¡ªVolk was seeing it all. "No... impossible," Kragath muttered, his voice filled with disbelief. Volk smirked faintly, his stance unchanging. "Your movements are too obvious. Too rehearsed. Arena fights don''t prepare you for real battles." Kragath roared in defiance, his pride wounded. He charged at Volk, his weapons swinging wildly. But Volk continued to evade, his motions smooth and deliberate. KLANG! WHOOSH! THUD! Each missed strike left Kragath more vulnerable. Volk began to counter subtly¡ªnudging Kragath off-balance with a shoulder check here, redirecting a swing with a light push there. The crowd of Orcs watching the fight started to murmur. Kragath, the undefeated gladiator, was being toyed with. Kragath made one final attempt, channeling all his remaining energy into a devastating double strike. He raised both his axe and sword, the weapons glowing brightly as he brought them down with all his might. Volk sidestepped at the last second. BOOM! The weapons hit the ground, creating a crater. Before Kragath could recover, Volk stepped in. His gauntlet flared with light as he delivered a precise punch to Kragath''s ribs. CRACK! The impact sent Kragath flying back, his weapons slipping from his hands. He crashed to the ground, groaning in pain. Volk approached him slowly, his gauntlet dimming. He stood over the fallen gladiator, his expression unreadable. "Accept defeat!" Chapter 241 You have no idea Kragath groaned, clutching his ribs as he sat up, his labored breathing echoing in the tense silence.The surrounding Orcs remained frozen, their gazes fixed on the two warriors. Then, with a grunt of effort, Kragath muttered, "Okay." He extended a hand as if accepting defeat and offering peace. Volk nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. "You''ve made the right choice," he began, taking a step forward. But as he reached out, Kragath''s fingers twitched. Suddenly¡ªSWOOSH! The arena-hardened Orc lunged forward with a speed that belied his injuries. His fingers curled into claws, aiming for Volk''s throat. The crowd gasped, their collective breath held in suspense. But Volk''s reflexes were sharper. He sidestepped with uncanny grace, Kragath''s strike missing him by inches. WHOOSH! Volk spun around, his eyes narrowing. "Really?" he barked, his voice sharp with disappointment. Kragath grinned wickedly, showing bloodied teeth. "Mak''Gora isn''t about honor. It''s about survival, Warchief. Life and death." Volk growled, raising his gauntlet and pointing it directly at Kragath, who was crouched like a wounded predator. "Do you even understand what you''ve just done?" Volk began, his tone rising. "You call yourself an Orc¡ªa warrior¡ªbut you''ve insulted the very spirit of Mak''Gora. This wasn''t just a fight; it was a test of leadership! A test of worthiness!" He paced back and forth, his frustration boiling over. "And you? You chose to sully that! You chose to strike me down like a coward! A dishonorable coward!" Kragath sneered, blood dripping from his mouth. "Honor?" he spat. "What good is honor when you''re dead? You think the humans care about honor? You think they won''t stab you in the back the moment they can?" Volk stopped pacing, glaring at Kragath. "I''m not a human!" he snapped, his voice reverberating through the clearing. "We are Orcs! We have traditions, principles! Mak''Gora is sacred! It''s a duel to prove strength and resolve, not an excuse for treachery!" Kragath laughed bitterly, his body trembling from the effort. "Sacred? Tell me, Warchief, how many Mak''Goras have you fought? How many times have you put your life on the line?" "Enough to know what it means," Volk replied coldly. "Enough to know that leadership isn''t just about brute strength. It''s about trust, respect, and unity. Without those, a horde is nothing but a rabble of fools swinging axes at shadows." Kragath dragged himself to one knee, his axe clutched weakly in his hand. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes burned with defiance. "You speak like a human," he hissed. "Mak''Gora is not about unity. It''s about survival. It''s about killing your opponent before they kill you. That''s the only rule that matters." Volk scoffed. "That''s the rule of desperate men. Of scavengers and beasts. You''ve fought in human arenas too long, Kragath. Their corruption has tainted you." "Tainted me?" Kragath''s voice rose. He staggered to his feet, his legs shaking but holding firm. "You think you''re better because you''ve read some scrolls or heard some stories about honor? Let me tell you what Mak''Gora really is¡ªit''s a fight for your life. No rules. No mercy. Only the strong survive. That''s the way of the Orcs!" Volk shook his head, his expression hardening. "No, that''s the way of the weak. The way of those too afraid to build something greater. You''re stuck in the past, Kragath, clinging to an outdated idea of strength. The world is changing, and if you don''t adapt, you''ll be left behind." Kragath laughed again, though it was laced with pain. "Adapt? By following your so-called honor? By letting my guard down and trusting you to spare me? No. I''ll fight until my last breath, Warchief. That''s the only way I know." Kragath roared, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. His axe flared with energy as he lunged at Volk, swinging wildly. CLANG! Volk raised his gauntlet, deflecting the blow. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Kragath followed up with a series of strikes, each one faster and more desperate than the last. But Volk was ready. He dodged and parried with precision, his movements calm and measured. "You''re done, Kragath," Volk said, his voice steady. "You can barely stand. This fight is over." "Not until one of us is dead!" Kragath bellowed, raising his axe for one final strike. Volk stepped in close, his gauntlet glowing. He slammed his fist into Kragath''s chest. BOOM! The impact sent Kragath flying backward. He hit the ground hard, his weapons clattering beside him. Blood pooled beneath him as he struggled to breathe. Volk walked over, standing above the fallen gladiator. He knelt, pressing the gauntlet against Kragath''s neck. "You''re finished," he said, his tone cold. Kragath coughed, blood spilling from his lips. His defiance flickered, replaced by a flicker of fear. Volk leaned in closer, his voice low. "I told you¡ªI''ll spare you for now. But try something like that again, and I won''t hesitate to end you. Do you understand?" Kragath nodded weakly, his strength finally giving out. The gauntlet hummed softly as Volk rose to his feet, turning to address the crowd of Orcs. They were silent, their faces a mix of awe and fear. "Mak''Gora is over," Volk declared. "Kragath has lost. The horde moves forward¡ªtogether." And with that, he walked away, leaving Kragath broken but alive. Meanwhile, Kragath lay sprawled on the blood-soaked dirt, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. For a moment, there was only silence, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. Then, unexpectedly, a sound emerged¡ªa weak, raspy chuckle. Volk paused mid-step, turning to glance back at the fallen gladiator. The chuckle grew louder. It rumbled from Kragath''s chest like the first tremor of an earthquake. His cracked lips parted, revealing bloodied teeth, and the sound swelled into something deeper¡ªa laugh. The laugh started as a dry, broken sound, barely audible over the whispers of the gathered Orcs. But it refused to fade. It grew, rumbling in Kragath''s throat like a storm brewing in the distance. "Huh¡­" he muttered between shallow breaths, his voice ragged yet defiant. "Heh¡­heh-heh¡­ha¡­ha-ha-ha¡­" The Orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their confusion evident. Some stepped back, their instincts telling them something was wrong. Kragath''s laughter deepened, taking on a guttural edge. His body shook violently, not from pain or exhaustion, but from the force of his mirth. Blood dripped from his split lip, but he didn''t seem to notice. "Ha¡­ha-ha¡­HAHAHA!" The sound echoed through the clearing, bouncing off the surrounding trees. It was wild, untamed, and unsettling. The kind of laugh that didn''t just fill the air but dug into your bones, making your skin crawl. "What''s wrong with him?" an Orc muttered, gripping his weapon tightly. Another shrugged, his eyes darting nervously between Kragath and Volk. "He''s gone mad¡­" But Kragath wasn''t mad. At least, not entirely. His laughter continued, each burst louder and more unhinged than the last. It rose like a crescendo, building toward something unstoppable. Volk turned fully, his brow furrowing as he watched Kragath convulse on the ground, clutching his stomach. "What''s so funny?" he asked, his tone cold but tinged with curiosity. Kragath ignored him, his laughter breaking into fits and starts. His voice was raw, cracking under the strain, but still, it persisted. "You think this is over?" Kragath wheezed between gasps. "You¡­ha-ha-ha¡­you really think¡­ha-ha-ha-ha¡­you''ve won?" Volk''s eyes narrowed. "You lost. Accept it." "Lost?" Kragath repeated, his laughter roaring back to life. "You don''t understand, Warchief. You''ve¡­ha-ha-ha¡­you''ve only just begun to fight." The sound grated on the nerves of the surrounding Orcs. One of them, a towering brute with jagged scars crisscrossing his chest, growled low in his throat. "Shut up, Kragath," he snarled, stepping forward. Kragath''s laughter didn''t waver. If anything, it grew louder, almost triumphant. "Enough!" the scarred Orc roared. He stomped toward Kragath, raising a massive foot, and slammed it down onto his chest. THUD! Kragath grunted but didn''t stop laughing. The sound spilled from his lips, even as blood bubbled up and stained his teeth. Another Orc, smaller but no less furious, joined in. He swung a heavy fist, smashing it into Kragath''s jaw. The impact echoed like a drumbeat. But Kragath''s laugh only stuttered, resuming even louder than before. "Why won''t you stop?" the smaller Orc growled, his voice trembling with frustration. "Hit him again!" another shouted. They piled onto him, fists and feet raining down in a flurry of violence. Each blow landed with sickening force¡ªTHUD! CRACK! SMACK!¡ªbut Kragath remained undeterred. His laughter filled the air, drowning out the sound of their strikes. "Enough!" Volk barked, his voice sharp as a blade. The Orcs hesitated, pulling back reluctantly. But even as they stepped away, Kragath''s body twitched, and his laughter rolled on. Kragath spat blood onto the ground, his chest heaving as he finally began to quiet. His voice was hoarse, but his words were clear. "You¡­ha-ha¡­you think you''ve won," he said, his tone laced with defiance. He turned his bloodied face toward Volk, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "But you¡­ha-ha-ha¡­you have no idea." The words hung in the air like a curse, chilling the gathered Orcs to their core. Chapter 242 The reason Volk narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the bloodied, laughing form of Kragath.The other Orcs had fallen silent, their earlier frenzy fading into a tense stillness as they watched their Warchief confront the fallen gladiator. "What are you talking about, Kragath?" Volk asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. Kragath''s laughter faltered for a moment, his shoulders shaking as he drew in a wheezing breath. But then it returned, louder, deeper, more manic. "What¡­am I talking about?" Kragath rasped, his lips curling into a crimson-streaked grin. His voice was strained, yet it carried an eerie, mocking edge. "What am I talking about?" He repeated the question, louder this time, the words punctuated by laughter. "What am I talking about?" he bellowed, his voice cracking but unrelenting. He dragged himself into a half-sitting position, leaning on his battered arms. "Oh, you really don''t know, do you? HA! What am I talking about?!" The other Orcs exchanged uneasy glances, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. Volk''s jaw tightened. "Enough games. Speak clearly." Kragath ignored him, his laughter growing even more unhinged. "What am I talking about?!" he roared again, slamming his fist into the ground. Blood dripped from his knuckles, but he didn''t seem to care. "What am I talking about?!" One of the younger Orcs in the crowd shifted uncomfortably, his brows knitting together. "What is he saying?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Another Orc, older and scarred, growled in frustration. "He''s just mad. Beaten too many times. Ignore him." But Kragath''s laughter didn''t let them. It was infectious in the worst way, gnawing at their nerves and demanding attention. "Do you have any idea¡­" Kragath finally gasped, his voice dropping into a hoarse whisper that was somehow even more menacing than his earlier outbursts. He tilted his head, fixing Volk with a bloodshot glare. "Do you have any idea what you''ve done?" Volk didn''t flinch, but his gaze sharpened. "I''ve defeated you. I''ve claimed your horde. That''s all." Kragath chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Is it, though? Is that all you''ve done?" He spat blood onto the dirt and grinned, his teeth stained red. "You beat me. You humiliated me. And now you think it''s over?" The air grew heavier with every word he spoke, the tension thickening like a storm cloud. "Do you have any idea what you did?" Kragath asked again, his tone mockingly calm. His eyes scanned the gathered Orcs, lingering on their wary expressions. "Beating me¡­ Becoming a new Chief¡­ Forming your little horde¡­" The Orcs bristled at his tone, but no one spoke. Even Volk remained silent, his eyes locked on Kragath as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. Kragath smirked, his head lolling slightly as he leaned back against the dirt. "No? None of you? Really?" His voice dripped with derision. "You don''t have the faintest idea what you''ve done?" The gathered Orcs exchanged confused glances, their earlier bravado now replaced with unease. "What is he saying?" one of them muttered. Another growled under his breath. "He''s just trying to mess with us." But Volk wasn''t so sure. He stepped closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over Kragath. "Enough riddles. If you have something to say, say it." Kragath tilted his head back and let out another laugh, this one quieter but no less unsettling. "Oh, I''ll say it," he murmured, his voice a chilling whisper that seemed to seep into the very ground. "But first¡­" He paused, his bloodied lips curling into a twisted grin. "Ask yourselves¡­ What have you really done?" The question hung in the air like a blade, leaving Volk and his horde to stare at Kragath in bewilderment. None of them could answer, not even their Warchief. And the silence that followed was louder than any battle cry. Kragath''s bloodied chest heaved as his laughter finally subsided, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The Orcs around him shifted uncomfortably, their earlier confidence replaced with unease. Volk stood tall, his piercing eyes fixed on the fallen gladiator, waiting for his cryptic mockery to unravel into something tangible. Kragath tilted his head, his gaze sweeping across the gathered Orcs with a strange mixture of disdain and pity. His voice, low and hoarse at first, carried the weight of a confession that demanded to be heard. "You fools," he began, his lips curling into a grim smile. "You think you''ve won something. You think you''ve done something great by beating me down. But do you have any idea what you''ve just destroyed?" "What are you talking about?" Volk demanded, his tone sharp. Kragath coughed, blood spattering his chin, but the grin never left his face. "What am I talking about?" he echoed, the words dripping with derision. "I''m talking about me. About the burden I''ve carried. The sacrifices I''ve made. The chains I''ve worn so you¡ªall of you¡ªcould still walk this land!" The Orcs stirred, their expressions darkening. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but no one dared to interrupt him. Kragath leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Volk''s with a feral intensity. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You think I''m just some brute who fought in the human arenas for sport? Some savage who clawed his way to power for glory?" He spat on the ground, the crimson-stained saliva a stark testament to his wounds. "No. I was your savior. The reason the humans didn''t wipe you out the moment they laid eyes on you." The Orcs exchanged glances, their confusion mounting. "What do you mean?" one of them finally asked, his voice barely above a growl. Kragath chuckled, a bitter, hollow sound. "This region? This forest? The mountains you hide in? It should have been cleansed long ago. The humans wanted to eradicate us. They wanted our heads on pikes and our bodies fed to their hounds." He jabbed a finger into the dirt, his voice rising with every word. "And do you know what stopped them? Me! I stopped them! By playing their game. By bowing my head. By offering them just enough blood to satisfy their hunger without making them think we were worth a full-scale war." The Orcs recoiled, their faces twisting in a mix of disbelief and disgust. "I fought in their arenas," Kragath continued, his voice raw with emotion. "I spilled blood for their entertainment. I let them chain me, whip me, starve me¡ªall so they wouldn''t look too closely at the rest of you. All so they wouldn''t think it was worth hunting you down like animals!" His eyes burned as he glared at the gathered crowd. "Do you think I enjoyed it? Do you think I wanted to kneel to those weaklings in their shiny armor? I hated it. Every moment of it. But I did it. For you." One of the Orcs growled, his fists clenching. "You call that saving us? You betrayed your own kind! You let them take Orcs!" "Yes, I did!" Kragath roared, his voice shaking with fury. "I let them take a few. A handful. To keep the rest of you alive!" The crowd bristled, but Kragath pressed on, his tone hardening. "You think you''re so righteous? So pure? Tell me, what would you have done? Fought back? Died like dogs? Left your families to be hunted down, slaughtered, or worse?" Kragath''s gaze swept over the group, his expression a mask of contempt and sorrow. "You have no idea what it means to bear this kind of burden. To know that every swing of your weapon, every drop of blood you spill, is another day of survival for your people." He turned his eyes to Volk, his voice softening. "And you. You think you''re a leader now? A Warchief? Do you have the stomach for it? The will to do whatever it takes to keep your horde alive? Even if it means staining your soul in ways you''ll never wash clean?" Volk''s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Kragath laughed bitterly. "I didn''t just fight in their arenas. I negotiated with their lords. I gave them what they wanted¡ªblood, sport, submission¡ªso they wouldn''t come looking for the rest of you. "And now? Now that you''ve beaten me? Now that you''ve claimed my horde?" He spread his arms, his grin turning into a snarl. "You''ve broken the balance. You''ve destroyed the fragile truce that kept the humans from marching into this forest and burning everything to the ground." The crowd erupted in murmurs, some of the Orcs looking uneasy, others furious. "Lies," one of them spat. "You just want us to pity you." "Is it pity," Kragath shot back, "if it''s the truth?" Another Orc growled. "You should have fought them, not bargained with them!" Kragath''s laugh returned, harsh and grating. "Fought them? With what army? With what weapons? You don''t even know the size of their forces, the strength of their steel. You''re just blind fools who think courage alone can win wars." Volk stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Enough. If what you''re saying is true, then tell me this: what happens now?" Kragath''s laughter faded, leaving only a grim smile. "Now?" He leaned back, his bloodied body trembling with exhaustion. "Now, you deal with the consequences. You deal with the humans who will come looking for me. For all of you." He chuckled softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You''ve killed your savior. Let''s see if you can save yourselves." The Orcs fell silent, the weight of Kragath''s words settling over them like a storm cloud. Even Volk found himself at a loss, the enormity of what he''d just learned leaving him with more questions than answers. "What¡­have we done?" one of the Orcs finally muttered, echoing Kragath''s earlier taunt. Kragath smirked, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back. "Exactly," he murmured. "What have you done?" Chapter 243 Threat Kragath''s battered frame trembled as he fixed his eyes on Volk, his smirk fading into something far colder.Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he let out a slow, gravelly sigh. "You," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, but each word carried like a thunderclap in the silence. "You think you''re strong. You''ve reached the twenty-fifth stage of a Mana Orc. That''s impressive for someone like you, I''ll give you that. But do you even know what that means in the grand scheme of things?" Volk''s brows furrowed, his fist still clenched at his side. "What are you talking about now, Kragath?" "What am I talking about?" Kragath spat, forcing himself to sit upright despite the immense pain wracking his body. His eyes glinted with a dangerous light. "I''m talking about the monsters you''re about to face. You think you''ve accomplished something, climbing to twenty-five? "Reaching that stage is nothing compared to the nightmares that dwell in the service of the humans. Especially under her¡ªthe Viscountess." He leaned forward, his bloodied fingers clawing at the dirt. "You''re strong, Volk. I''ll admit that. But compared to the true champions I''ve seen in the arenas¡­compared to the ones who fight under her banner? You''re a pebble against a mountain." Kragath''s voice gained strength, fueled by rage and bitter memories. "Let me tell you about them¡ªthe champions of the human arenas. The ones who stand at the pinnacle, with levels beyond your comprehension. Seven names, Volk. Seven nightmares who''ve carved their names into the flesh of thousands." He raised a trembling hand, pointing at Volk as if daring him to listen. One finger. Xerath, the Bladewind of Avarice. "A peak Fortieth-stage Berserker, the very air trembles when he swings his dual greatswords. He moves like a storm, faster than the eye can follow, slicing through legions in seconds. His blades? "Forged from dragon bone and infused with mana so potent it burns the air around him. He doesn''t fight. He annihilates. Every swing of his sword is a death sentence. You wouldn''t last a heartbeat against him." Two fingers. Saphira, the Crimson Viper. "A Thirty-Ninth-stage Sorceress-Assassin. She doesn''t kill with brute force¡ªshe doesn''t need to. Her poisons seep into the mind, twisting her prey into puppets before she slaughters them. "She can vanish into the shadows, reappearing with her daggers buried in your throat. I''ve seen her bring entire armies to their knees without spilling a drop of her own blood." Three fingers. Gorath, the Beast of Black Iron. "A Thirty-Eighth-stage Gladiator. This one? A walking fortress. His skin is tougher than steel, his strength unmatched. "Even arena champions have shattered their weapons against his hide. He fights barehanded, crushing skulls like ripe fruit. They say he once tore an ogre limb from limb for daring to insult him." Four fingers. Ilena, the Soul Reaver. "A Thirty-Seventh-stage Necromancer. She doesn''t just kill¡ªshe claims. Every warrior who falls to her joins her undead army, bound to her will for eternity. "Her magic corrodes flesh, shatters bone, and breaks spirits. Even the bravest Orcs I''ve known wept at the thought of facing her. She doesn''t stop until everything around her is a graveyard." Five fingers. Kael, the Stormborn Spear. "A Thirty-Sixth-stage Elemental Warrior. His spear dances like lightning, striking with the fury of a tempest. "He commands the skies themselves, calling storms to tear his enemies apart. One strike from him isn''t just an attack¡ªit''s an act of nature. He''s turned entire battlefields to ash with a single thrust." Six. Varya, the Scarlet Tempest "A Thirty-Fifth-stage Duelist. Her grace is as deadly as her speed. She wields twin rapiers, slicing through flesh before her opponents even realize they''ve been cut. "Her movements are a blur, her attacks relentless. She doesn''t just defeat her enemies¡ªshe humiliates them, dancing around their attacks as if they''re children." Seven fingers. Drakos, the Iron Warden. "A Fortieth-peak Juggernaut. The strongest. The most unyielding. He''s a mountain that moves, a titan that crushes everything in his path. "His hammer can split the ground, his shield can withstand dragonfire, and his sheer presence can make armies falter. He is the champion of champions, the living embodiment of the arena''s brutality." Kragath''s voice dropped, his earlier fury giving way to something colder. "These aren''t just warriors, sir, the new Orc horde leader. They''re legends among us Gladiators. Monsters shaped by the arenas, tempered in blood and pain. And you? You''re just an Orc who got lucky." Volk''s jaw tightened, his muscles tensing as he listened. Kragath sneered. "You think defeating me means anything? I was just a tool. A puppet to keep the humans entertained. The champions I''ve named¡ªthey''d kill you before you could even lift your weapon. "And without me? Without my protection? You''ll all be thrown into the pits eventually. You''ll be chained, beaten, and forced to fight until you''re nothing but a broken husk. He gestured weakly to the gathered Orcs, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "These fools think you''re their savior. Their Warchief. But they don''t see what I see. You''re just another pawn. "Another body to be thrown into the grinder. And when the humans come for you¡ªand they will come for you¡ªyou''ll wish you''d listened to me." Kragath''s lips twisted into a weak, mocking smile as he leaned back against the dirt. "Enjoy your little horde while it lasts, Volk. Because soon enough, you''ll be just like me. A slave. A dog. "Fighting for scraps in their arenas. And when that day comes? Remember this moment. Remember how you thought you were strong." The Orcs around him shifted uneasily, their earlier defiance replaced with uncertainty. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk stood silent, the weight of Kragath''s words hanging heavily in the air. Soon, his eyes darkened, his towering frame casting a shadow over the battered Kragath. He stared down at the once-proud Orc, his expression blank but his presence suffocating. The silence was palpable, heavy enough to choke the air out of the surrounding Orcs. Then, finally, Volk spoke, his voice low, calm, and chilling. "And?" Kragath froze, his lips parting slightly in confusion. "W-what?" Volk stepped closer, his boots crunching against the dirt with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm. Each step sounded like the tolling of a death knell. He stopped just short of Kragath, his gaze piercing, unrelenting. "Is that all?" Volk asked again, his tone laced with a quiet venom that sent shivers down every spine in the vicinity. Kragath''s mouth opened to speak, but no words came out at first. He swallowed hard, his bravado wavering. "I¡­ I told you¡­ the champions¡­ the arena¡­" Volk tilted his head slightly, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator playing with its prey. "Really?" He leaned down, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "are there more?" he asked. Kragath''s breath hitched. "I''m warning you! You don''t understand what''s out there! The champions¡ª" "Yeah?" Volk interrupted, his voice rising slightly, but still measured and cold. Kragath blinked, his confidence visibly eroding under Volk''s steady gaze. "You don''t care?!" he barked, attempting to summon his earlier fury, but his voice cracked. "You think so?" Volk said simply, standing tall again. His presence was towering, oppressive. "I don''t care?" Kragath''s hands trembled as he pushed himself slightly upright, his voice rising in desperation. "You arrogant fool! You don''t understand! They''ll hunt you down! They''ll carve through you and your horde like paper! The Viscountess will¡ª" Volk raised a hand, silencing him instantly. The sheer weight of his presence was enough to make even the surrounding Orcs unconsciously take a step back. "Viscountess?" Volk said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You think I fear her? You think I fear her champions? You think I fear anything that stands in my path?" He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that resonated in the chests of everyone present. Kragath''s face twisted in anger and panic. "You don''t get it! You''re just another Orc! You''re¡ª" "I am Volk," he interrupted again, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He took another step forward, his towering form now casting Kragath entirely in shadow. "I am not just another Orc. I am the one who defeated you. The one who crushed your pride. The one who spared your miserable life." Kragath flinched, his earlier confidence now completely gone. "Y-you¡­ You don''t understand¡­" Volk crouched down, his eyes level with Kragath''s. The intensity of his gaze was suffocating. "Can you elaborate what I don''t understand?" He asked again. Kragath''s breaths came in shallow gasps, his composure completely shattered. "They''ll come for you!" he stammered, his voice trembling. "They''ll¡­ they''ll come for you¡­ and when they do¡­ you''ll wish you''d listened to me!" Volk''s smirk widened. "Let them come." His voice was calm, unwavering. Kragath''s hands clawed at the dirt, his body trembling as he tried to summon some vestige of defiance. "You¡­ you don''t¡­" He paused, his voice breaking. "You don''t know what you''re doing. You''re condemning us all!" Volk leaned in closer, his face mere inches from Kragath''s. "So?" Kragath let out a choked laugh, but it was hollow, filled with fear. "You''re¡­ insane¡­" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "No," Volk said softly, his voice like a knife sliding between ribs. "How so?" Kragath''s laughter faltered entirely, replaced by a shuddering silence. The Orcs surrounding them watched, wide-eyed, as their once-feared leader crumbled into a shadow of his former self. "I-I¡­" Kragath stuttered, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "Y-you have no idea¡­ what you''re dealing with¡­" Volk rose to his full height, his gaze never leaving Kragath. "And you," he said, his voice cold and final, "Do you have any idea what I am capable of?" Kragath fell silent, his body trembling as he stared up at Volk, the weight of his presence crushing what little resolve remained. The gathered Orcs looked on, their faces pale with awe and terror, as their new Warchief stood victorious, unshaken, and utterly commanding. Chapter 244 Changes Suddenly, Volk''s expression shifted, the heavy tension in the air snapping like a taut string breaking.He stood tall, his lips curling into an unexpected smirk. Then, to the surprise of all, he began to clap. The sound was slow and deliberate at first, each clap echoing through the silent crowd like the toll of a great bell. Clap. Clap. Clap. The Orcs around him exchanged confused glances, unsure of what to make of this abrupt change in tone. Even Kragath, battered and trembling, looked up with a mix of confusion and suspicion. "Well said, Kragath," Volk began, his deep voice breaking the uneasy silence. He continued clapping, the sound now quicker, sharper. "You know what? I agree with you." Kragath blinked, his jaw slack. "W-what¡­?" "Yes." Volk nodded, his smirk widening. "You deserve credit. All of it. Without your sacrifice¡ªyour willingness to become the lapdog of humans¡ªnone of this would have been possible." He began to pace slowly around Kragath, his eyes scanning the gathered Orcs as he spoke. "It''s true. If not for you, those monsters¡ªthose humans¡ªwould''ve swept through this forest like a flood. They would''ve wiped out every last one of you. Without your¡­ bravery?" He paused, pretending to consider the word before nodding. "Yes, let''s call it bravery. Without your bravery, this horde wouldn''t exist. I wouldn''t have been able to gather you all under one banner." Kragath narrowed his eyes, unsure if Volk was mocking him or genuinely agreeing. "I did what I had to¡ª" "And you did it well!" Volk interrupted, his voice booming with theatrical enthusiasm. "A dog. A slave. A shield. You were all those things for them. And because of you, because you bore that humiliation, they allowed this forest to survive. They allowed the Orcs to live." The gathered Orcs murmured amongst themselves, uneasy. Volk''s tone was strange¡ªtoo friendly, too approving. "And let''s not forget the humans," Volk continued, his voice dropping into a mockingly reverent tone. "Those terrifying, shiny warriors. Their swords, their magic, their overwhelming numbers. Truly, Kragath, you were right to fear them." He paused and turned to face the horde directly. "Let''s all take a moment to remember how frightening they are." He held up his hands, as if summoning the fear itself. "Their glittering armor! Their endless ranks! Their champions who stand so tall, so powerful! They are everything we Orcs should fear. Right?" Some of the Orcs nodded hesitantly, others frowned, uncertain where this was going. "RIGHT?" Volk barked suddenly, his voice sharp enough to make them jump. "Yes!" Kragath interjected, desperate to regain some ground. "That''s what I''ve been trying to tell you! They''re too strong! You can''t¡ª" "But!" Volk held up a hand, silencing Kragath immediately. His smirk faded, replaced by a cold, commanding stare. "Times have changed." The words hung in the air, heavy and absolute. "What did you say?" Kragath stammered, his voice weak. "I said, times have changed." Volk''s voice was like a hammer, each syllable striking with deliberate force. "You speak of the past, of chains, of submission. But let me ask you, Kragath¡­" He crouched down, his eyes locking onto the fallen Orc. "Do you see chains on me? Do you see fear in my eyes? Do you see submission in my stride?" Kragath''s lips trembled, but he said nothing. Volk rose to his full height, towering over Kragath like a monolith. "Those humans you feared? Those champions you cowered before? They''re not gods. They''re not invincible. They''re flesh and blood, just like us. And flesh and blood can break. It can bleed. It can burn." He turned to the horde, his voice growing louder, more fervent. "We are not slaves. We are not dogs. We are Orcs! Born to fight. Born to conquer. Born to rise above those who would chain us!" The Orcs began to stir, their unease melting away as Volk''s words ignited a fire within them. "You call yourself our savior, Kragath," Volk continued, his voice a thunderous roar now. "But all you did was buy time with cowardice. And now that time is up. Because I''m here. And I don''t kneel. I don''t bow. And I sure as hell don''t fear humans!" He pointed a gauntleted finger at Kragath, his voice filled with scorn. "You speak of sacrifice as if you''re the only one who''s bled for this horde. But let me make one thing clear. Your time is over. Your fear dies here. Your chains end now. Because I am Volk, and this horde will never kneel again!" Kragath''s face twisted, a mix of anger, fear, and humiliation. "You''re a fool¡­" he muttered weakly. "No, Kragath," Volk said, his voice calm once more, dripping with finality. "You''re just scared, and I will show why you are scared!." The horde erupted in a deafening cheer, the sound shaking the very ground beneath them. Volk turned his back to Kragath, his gauntlet shining in the dim light. "To prove to all of you that times have changed," Volk said again, quieter this time, but no less powerful. And with that, he walked away, the horde following him like a tide. Not long, Volk''s footsteps came to a halt, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the uneven terrain. The Orcs behind him also stopped, their murmuring subsiding as they looked to their leader for guidance. Then, without warning¡ª DING! A sound rang in Volk''s head, clear and distinct, like a hammer striking steel. His vision flickered, and there it was¡ªa system notification hovering in front of his eyes, etched in radiant energy. [ Mission Complete: The Warchief''s Call! ] | Objective: Form a new horde in the Orzaroth Realm by adopting scattered Wild Orcs or Ogres. | Reward: Exact location and status of original horde members. Random radioactive horde power-up. | Failure: Horde marks disappearance. | Status: COMPLETED. | A brief moment of satisfaction flashed in Volk''s eyes as he read the completion message. But his focus was interrupted by an abrupt shift in the air. It started faintly, almost imperceptibly, like the gentle hum of a distant storm. Volk stiffened. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His senses were sharp, attuned to even the smallest disturbances, and this¡­ this was unusual. His brows furrowed as he scanned the surroundings, and then he felt it. At first, it was so weak that even Volk questioned if it was real or just his imagination. The ground beneath his feet seemed to quiver ever so slightly, like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant. The Orcs behind him began murmuring again, confusion rippling through their ranks. One of the newly recruited Wild Orcs stepped forward, his face twisted in a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Warchief¡­? Do you feel that?" Volk raised a hand, silencing him immediately. "Relax," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "Stay still. Watch." --- The Horde''s Reactions The vibrations intensified, growing from a barely-there tremor to something tangible, almost alive. The Orcs began to shift uneasily. "What is this?" one gruff voice called out, its owner scratching at his chest as if trying to brush off an unseen insect. "Is it the humans?" another asked, his hand already reaching for his weapon. "No¡­ it''s something else¡­" murmured a female Orc, her eyes narrowing as she stomped her foot, trying to match the rhythm of the vibration. The sensation spread through their bodies now. It wasn''t just the ground¡ªit was them. The vibration started weak, like a faint shiver running up their spines. Then, it grew stronger, sharper, resonating deep within their bones. One Orc let out a startled gasp. "My arms¡ªthey''re¡­ shaking!" He held up his hands, the fingers trembling like leaves in a storm. Another clutched at his chest, his voice a mix of awe and fear. "It''s like my heart''s beating too fast, but I''m not even running!" Volk''s eyes narrowed. He turned, scanning his horde, taking in their various reactions. One Orc stomped his foot repeatedly, as if trying to quell the vibrations coursing through his legs. Another gritted her teeth, flexing her arms as if fighting to keep them still. A younger Orc dropped to one knee, slamming his fist into the dirt to steady himself. "What''s happening to us?" one called out, his voice tinged with panic. "It feels¡­ it feels like my blood is boiling!" shouted another, his veins bulging visibly against his green skin. "Silence!" Volk barked, his voice cutting through the growing cacophony like a blade. "Relax," he repeated, his voice calm but firm. He stood tall, his gauntleted hand raised as if to hold the vibrations themselves at bay. "Whatever this is, it''s not an attack. Focus. Let it happen." But the Orcs couldn''t relax. The vibrations only grew stronger. Their bodies trembled violently now, their muscles twitching uncontrollably. One Orc''s legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching at his chest. Another let out a guttural roar, swinging his axe wildly in an attempt to expel the strange energy. Volk, however, remained calm. His body vibrated just as much as the others, but his expression was one of cold focus. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, feeling the energy coursing through him. "It''s not pain," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "It''s power." As the vibrations reached a fever pitch, something incredible began to happen. The Orcs'' green skin glowed faintly, an ethereal light pulsing beneath the surface. Their eyes widened as they looked at one another, the glow spreading like wildfire through the horde. "Oh shit?" one whispered, staring at his glowing hands in awe. "Am I¡­ changing?" another asked, his voice trembling with both fear and wonder. The vibrations reached their peak, and then¡ªjust as suddenly as they had started¡ªthey stopped. The silence that followed was deafening. From his position behind the horde, Kragath watched the entire scene unfold, his battered body slumped against a boulder. His jaw, already bruised, dropped open further as he took in the sight before him. "This can''t be," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His eyes darted from one glowing Orc to the next, then to Volk, who stood at the center of it all like a beacon of power. The gauntlet on Volk''s arm shimmered faintly, pulsating in time with the light radiating from the horde. "No¡­ no, this isn''t possible," Kragath muttered, his voice rising in pitch. "That energy¡­ that''s an Orc magic!!" He tried to stand, his legs shaking beneath him, but the sheer weight of the realization forced him back down. His hands gripped the dirt as he stared at Volk, his face pale with a mixture of awe and terror. "This can''t be!" Kragath shouted, his voice cracking. "You¡­ what are you?!" Chapter 245 Not enough The eerie silence following the mysterious vibrations enveloped the forest like a dense shroud.The once rowdy horde of Wild Orcs, gruff and unrefined, stood frozen in place. Each Orc examined themselves and the others, their breath catching in their throats. What had just happened? Their coarse laughter, feral grunts, and occasional curses had been replaced by the sound of rustling leaves and the faint hum of residual energy in the air. Volk stood in their midst, a towering figure, his piercing eyes darting over his newfound horde. His gauntlet shimmered faintly, emitting soft pulses of energy that seemed to resonate with the faint glow now emanating from every Orc. He clenched his fist, feeling nothing strange. However, as Volk looked at others, he knew that the system reward seemed not to focus on him but the new members of his horde. The change was undeniable. It wasn''t just him¡ªit was all of them. Suddenly, one by one, they would all notice the changes in their comrades. A bulky Orc near the back took a cautious step forward, his boots crunching against the dirt. His brows furrowed as he stared down at himself. Where once his body had been wrapped in poorly tanned animal hides, stitched haphazardly together with sinew, he now wore something entirely different. Gleaming metal adorned his torso¡ªa chest plate forged from a material that shimmered like liquid steel in the dappled sunlight. He ran a trembling hand over the surface, the texture unfamiliar. The light clinking sound of his gauntlet against the plate was as alien to him as the sensation of wearing something so solid. His jaw hung open, his tusks gleaming. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "W-What¡­?" His voice was a guttural rasp, disbelief thick in his tone. Soon, the next thing comes. Another Orc, a female with braided hair and a scar running down her cheek, caught sight of her reflection in a nearby puddle. She gasped sharply, a sound that seemed almost too delicate for someone of her size. Her fingers traced the intricate carvings etched into the pauldrons now resting on her shoulders. They were decorated with runes glowing faintly, pulsating as if alive. "This¡­ this can''t be real," she whispered, her voice trembling. Her eyes darted to her comrades, desperate for confirmation. A young Orc with a chipped tusk stared at his newly armored arms. His bracers were engraved with swirling patterns resembling flames. They flickered faintly, like embers being fanned. He flexed his hands, testing their weight, and then slapped his chest plate. Clang! The resounding metallic echo startled him. "By the ancestors of all the Orcs and believers of the Orc horde," he muttered, his wide eyes scanning the group. "We''re¡­ warriors now?" Others in the horde began to take notice. Murmurs spread like wildfire. "What is this armor? It feels so light!" "I look like one of the war legends my grandmother used to tell me about!" "Are we dreaming? Is this magic?" Meanwhile, Volk didn''t know or care if something changes in him, his presence stood apart from the horde, his presence even more commanding and intimidating than before. The light of his gauntlet intensified for a brief moment before settling into a steady, rhythmic glow. His armor had undergone the most dramatic transformation. His previously rugged, cobbled-together gear was now a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Blackened steel interwoven with jagged, glowing green veins covered his torso. His pauldrons flared outward like the wings of a great beast, and his greaves glinted with every subtle movement. He shifted his weight, testing the armor''s flexibility. The plates moved with him seamlessly, as if they were part of his very skin. His massive gauntlet felt heavier but more potent, the runes carved into it glowing brighter than ever. "Is there a change in me too?" Volk thought to himself as he still couldn''t notice, his sharp eyes scanning the bewildered horde, but after that he shook his head, "nor that important." The collective awe of the Orcs began to turn into one eighty degree. Their initial shock gave way to something deeper¡ªpride. They straightened their backs, their breaths coming quicker. Their glowing armor, no longer a source of confusion, now filled them with an almost intoxicating sense of invincibility. An older Orc with a deep, gravelly voice let out a booming laugh. He slammed his fist into his chest plate with a thud that echoed through the clearing. "We''re no longer the scattered rabble we once were!" he roared. His voice carried an unmistakable weight, stirring the emotions of those around him. Others joined in, their voices overlapping as they celebrated. "Look at us! We''re warriors!" "This is the start of something great!" "The humans won''t stand a chance against us now!" Amidst the growing fervor, not all Orcs reacted the same way. A younger female Orc with bright, curious eyes stared intently at the intricate patterns on her bracers. She traced them with her fingertips, her brow furrowing. "Where did this come from?" she muttered. "This isn''t just armor¡­ It''s something more." Nearby, a grizzled Orc with battle scars criss crossing his arms stood apart from the group. His hand rested uneasily on the hilt of his weapon. "This power," he murmured under his breath, "it feels¡­ unnatural. What did we tap into?" As the Orcs continued to marvel at their transformations, a low, almost imperceptible hum filled the air once more. The vibrations returned, but this time they weren''t random. They pulsed in unison, like the beat of a great drum. The horde fell silent, their laughter and chatter fading as they turned to Volk. He raised a hand. "Relax, it was just one of my welcoming gifts to join the horde," he commanded, his voice steady and calm. The vibrations grew stronger. The glowing runes on their armor began to shine brighter, casting an eerie light over the clearing. The Orcs shivered involuntarily, the energy coursing through them once more. "What''s happening now?" one of them asked, his voice tinged with nervousness. ¡­ On the other hand, behind the Horse''s army. Kragath watched the spectacle unfold. His battered body leaned against a tree, his eyes wide with disbelief. The once-proud warrior, who had mocked Volk and his horde not long ago, now felt a chill run down his spine. "This¡­ this," he muttered, his voice shaking. His jaw hung slack as he watched the transformations continue. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the rising fear in his chest. "Came from him?" ¡­ As the vibrations subsided, the Orcs stood tall, their glowing armor settling into a steady shimmer. The air was thick with an unspoken question. They turned their eyes to Volk, their leader, the one who had brought them together and led them to this moment. It was the female Orc from earlier who broke the silence. Her voice was soft but carried an unmistakable reverence. "Warchief," she said, her wide eyes glistening with a mix of awe and confusion, "did¡­ did you really do this for us? Is this preparation against humans that will come to us?" All eyes turned to Volk, their gazes filled with anticipation and wonder if it really came to him. The forest seemed to hold its breath, awaiting his answer. Chapter 246 Incomplete The question hung in the air, the female Orc''s wide-eyed wonder drilling into Volk like a spear."Warchief," she repeated, her voice trembling with awe, "did you do this?" Volk paused for a moment, his glowing gauntlet slowly unclenching. His sharp eyes shifted to her, then scanned the faces of his newly transformed horde. They were looking at him with something unfamiliar¡ªreverence. Their wild, untamed natures were tempered by their curiosity and newfound loyalty. He glanced downward, feigning contemplation, but in truth, he was focusing on the system screen hovering faintly in his peripheral vision. Suspended in the air before him, the text glowed ominously: Mission Completed! The Warchief won''t be a Warchief without a horde. Mission: Collect a new member of the horde and form a new horde in the Orzaroth Realm. Adopt all the scattered Wild Orcs and join them to the horde. Rewards: Exact location and status of the original horde members and a random radioactive horde power-up! Failure: Horde marks disappearance. Status: Completed. Volk squinted at the display, his lips pressing into a firm line. The completion of the mission explained the strange vibrations and the incredible transformations his horde had undergone. But it didn''t explain how. Why was the system granting them power in this way? And why not him? Or is he getting jealous? Seems like it. He dismissed the thought for the moment and turned his attention back to the female Orc. He let out a low, rumbling chuckle, shaking his head slightly before responding. "Yes," Volk said, his voice like rolling thunder, "it came to me. It came to us¡ªa gift for the Horde. A gift earned through blood, sweat, and perseverance. "It is proof that we are no longer scattered and weak. We are warriors now. A proud horde, forged in the fires of hardship and united under one banner!" Just as he finished speaking, the familiar ding! of the system interrupted his thoughts. New Mission! The host, or the Warchief, was an Orc and an Ogre. The horde would be incomplete without an Ogre! Mission A: Defeat all the Ogres around. Mission B: Enslave all the Ogres. Mission C: Kill all the Ogres. Failure: Loss of the Horde authority and power-up. For the first time in a long while, Volk felt his pulse quicken. His confident expression faltered, just for a fraction of a second, but long enough that he immediately turned his back to the horde to hide it. "What is this?" he muttered under his breath. His eyes narrowed as he read the mission again. Unlike previous tasks, this one offered no rewards¡ªjust choices. Dangerous choices. Volk''s mind whirled as he paced in the shadow of a nearby tree, muttering aloud to himself. His voice was low and rumbling, but the horde could hear snippets of his words. "Defeat all the Ogres¡­" He let the words hang in the air, tasting their weight. "It''s not impossible. I''m strong enough. My horde has proven itself capable. But to fight Ogres¡­" He clenched his fist, the gauntlet tightening with a faint creak. "They''re not like Orcs. They''re bigger, meaner, and more stubborn than a mountain. Fighting them would mean losses. Heavy losses." Volk rubbed his chin, his sharp tusks gleaming. "But defeating them would send a message. The Orcs would grow bolder, more confident. A victory over the Ogres would solidify my leadership¡­" He paused, shaking his head. "But at what cost?" He shifted his focus to the second option. "Enslave all the Ogres," he murmured. His lip curled slightly in distaste. "To enslave¡­ that''s not the way of the Horde. Orcs may dominate, but we don''t stoop to chains and collars. Enslaving them would create dissent. "Resentment. They''d bide their time and strike back when we''re weakest. No. Enslaving them is no solution¡ªit''s a slow poison." His tone grew more resolute as he dismissed the idea, but the third option loomed before him like a dark shadow. "Kill all the Ogres," he said quietly, the words heavy on his tongue. His gauntlet flexed reflexively. "Wipe them out completely. Remove their threat forever. It would be the simplest solution. A final one." Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head again. "No. That''s not the way of a Warchief. Orcs and Ogres may have their differences, but they''re not so different. "Killing them all would be more than just a waste¡ªit would be a betrayal of what it means to be part of the Horde. A Horde unites, not destroys. So what should I do? There''s no telling how rare they are, and maybe we could use them in the future too¡­" Volk stopped pacing, crossing his arms as he gazed out at his horde. They were watching him silently, waiting for his decision. He could see the potential in them, their newfound strength and unity. He had a responsibility now¡ªa duty to lead them wisely. "This system," Volk growled under his breath. "It''s evolved somehow. The missions are more complex. No rewards this time. Just risks. And consequences." He clenched his gauntlet one last time, exhaling deeply. "There''s only one choice that preserves the integrity of the Horde." Volk turned back to his horde, his expression calm but resolute. His deep voice boomed across the clearing as he addressed them. "We march forward," he declared. "This time, we must test the armor that I have given to all of you! So on this day, we confront the Ogres. We face them in battle, prove our strength, and defeat them. But we do not enslave. We do not slaughter needlessly. We are warriors, not butchers!" The horde let out a collective roar of approval, their faith in their Warchief unshaken. Deep down, however, Volk knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. The Ogres were not to be underestimated, and the system''s lack of clarity was unsettling. But he pushed the doubt aside. "For the Horde," Volk muttered to himself, his gauntlet glowing faintly as he clenched it tighter. "Let''s see what fate has in store." The horde marched forward, their freshly transformed armors gleaming in the dappled sunlight breaking through the forest canopy. The metallic clinking of their steps resounded like a growing thunderstorm. Despite their enthusiasm, questions began bubbling among the Orcs, some muttering to one another until one finally asked. "Warchief," a particularly bold Orc called out, his voice rough and sharp, "why do we need to beat Ogres? We''ve already proven our strength. What''s the point?" Volk turned, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the curious warrior. He straightened his stance, his gauntlet glowing faintly with latent energy as he addressed them. "It''s simple," Volk began, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs. "This battle isn''t just about strength. It''s about testing our new power. Testing the armors we''ve been gifted. These are no ordinary pieces of steel¡ªthey''re symbols of our new beginning. A beginning that demands we push ourselves against the toughest foes." The Orc scratched his head, his expression puzzled. "Then¡­ why not use them on Goblins? They''re everywhere, and they''d be easy to kill." A few other Orcs nodded in agreement, murmuring their assent. Volk let out a guttural laugh, his tusks gleaming as he grinned. "Goblins?" Volk repeated, his voice tinged with disdain. "Goblins are weaklings! Their bones snap like twigs, their blades dull like rust. Fighting Goblins would dishonor the armors, dishonor the Horde, and dishonor me as your Warchief. We need a challenge worthy of our strength!" Another Orc, his helmet slightly tilted, raised a clawed hand. "What about humans then? They''re strong enough. We''ve all seen their shiny armors and big armies." Volk''s expression darkened, his grin fading into a grim determination. "The humans will come," he said, his voice low and ominous. "They are not forgotten. They will be the final feast of blood upon the declaration of the Horde''s new beginning. But first¡­" He gestured ahead, his gauntlet glowing brighter. "¡­we conquer the Ogres. The humans will tremble when they see what we''ve become." The Orcs, though still not entirely understanding the finer details, erupted into a raucous cheer. To them, it didn''t matter why or how¡ªwhat mattered was that they were marching toward bloodshed. Chapter 247 Wild Orc First fight Into the Stinking ForestThe march led them into a forest thick with twisted trees and moss-covered boulders. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. A foul stench clung to everything, a mix of rotting meat and decaying vegetation. Even the hardened Orcs wrinkled their noses and coughed, waving the air in front of their faces. "This place reeks," one Orc muttered, his voice muffled by the stench. "Is this where the Ogres live?" Volk asked, his sharp eyes scanning the area. "Aye," another Orc replied, his voice grim. "This is one of their hideouts. They live deep in places like these. Places no one else wants." Volk nodded, his gaze lingering on the trees. Their bark was dark and sticky, oozing a black resin that added to the forest''s suffocating atmosphere. The ground squelched underfoot, every step a reminder that they were trespassing in a hostile territory. The horde moved cautiously, their earlier enthusiasm dimmed by the forest''s oppressive aura. The occasional snapping of a branch or rustling of leaves set them on edge. Hours passed, and frustration began to seep into the horde. Despite the warnings of the Orcs who claimed this was Ogre territory, they hadn''t seen a single one. Volk''s jaw tightened as he scanned the area, his patience wearing thin. "Are you certain this is where they live?" Volk demanded, his tone sharp. "Yes, Warchief," one of the scouts replied, bowing his head slightly. "The Ogres are here¡­ somewhere. They don''t stay in one place. They move in small groups, hunting or fighting among themselves." Volk grunted in acknowledgement but said nothing more. He gestured for the horde to press forward, his sharp eyes flicking between every shadow and movement. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they found one. It was crouched by a stream, its massive frame hunched as it drank. The Ogre was a grotesque creature, its body covered in thick, scarred hide and patches of rough hair. Its bulging muscles rippled as it moved, and its tusks jutted upward from a wide, slobbering mouth. A massive club lay at its side, the weapon looking like it could smash through boulders with ease. Completely different from Grumgar and Radioactive form. Volk raised a hand, signaling the horde to stop. The Orcs fell silent, their breaths hushed as they stared at the monstrous creature. "This is it," Volk murmured, his voice low but firm. He turned to one of the Orcs beside him, a warrior whose armor gleamed faintly in the dim light. "You. Attack it." The chosen Orc''s eyes widened, his grip tightening on his weapon. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the Ogre and then back at Volk. "Warchief?" he asked, his voice uncertain. "You heard me," Volk growled, his gauntlet glowing faintly. "Attack it. Prove the strength of our horde." The Orc swallowed hard but nodded. He stepped forward, his weapon clutched tightly in both hands, as the rest of the horde watched with bated breath. The chosen Orc¡ªGarzuk¡ªstepped forward, his boots sinking into the foul-smelling muck beneath him. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, and his eyes darted nervously to the massive Ogre ahead. Normally, seven Orcs were needed to take down a beast of this size and strength. But now, he stood alone. His fingers trembled as they gripped the hilt of his blade, and he turned his head slightly to glance at the horde behind him. Their faces told him everything. Some looked back at him with pity, others with skepticism. A few even smirked, already writing him off as a doomed fool. "You hesitate?" Volk''s voice thundered, slicing through the oppressive silence. His crimson gauntlet glowed faintly as he pointed at Garzuk, his tone laced with fury. "You dare show weakness before the Horde?" Garzuk swallowed hard. "Warchief¡­ maybe we could¡ª" "Silence!" Volk roared, his voice echoing through the forest. "You will follow my command, or you will be a disgrace to the Horde! Do you hear me? A disgrace!" The word hit Garzuk like a hammer to the chest. To be called a disgrace was worse than death. His hands tightened around his weapon, his knuckles whitening. There was no choice now. He had to fight. The Ogre, still unaware of the incoming challenge, bent down to drink again from the stream. Its grotesque body shifted, and a low growl rumbled from its throat. "Attack, now!" Volk barked, his eyes narrowing. Garzuk inhaled sharply and surged forward with a battle cry that was half-hearted at best. His blade swung downward in a clumsy arc, aimed at the Ogre''s exposed side. CLANG! The sound of steel meeting hide echoed through the forest, but the blade barely scratched the Ogre''s thick skin. The creature roared in rage, its beady eyes turning toward Garzuk as it reached for its massive club. "Faster, Garzuk! Do not let it recover!" Volk shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. Garzuk tried to adjust his footing in the slippery mud, raising his shield just in time as the Ogre''s club came crashing down. BOOM! The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, and Garzuk staggered back, his shield dented but still intact. His arms quivered from the force of the blow, but he managed to stay on his feet. "Move, you fool! Do not stand there like a tree waiting to be chopped!" Volk snarled. "Circle it! Attack its legs! Make it fall!" Garzuk nodded shakily, his fear evident in every step as he sidestepped around the Ogre. The beast swung its club again, but Garzuk barely managed to duck, the weapon missing him by inches. WHOOSH! The air screamed as the club passed over his head, and Garzuk fell to one knee in the mud. "Get up!" Volk bellowed, his fists clenched. "You call that fighting? You''re embarrassing the Horde! Use your shield, damn it!" Garzuk scrambled to his feet, raising his shield just as the Ogre spun and lashed out with its massive fist. BAM! The shield absorbed most of the impact, but Garzuk was still sent skidding backward, his boots carving deep trenches in the muck. He coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to stay upright. "Again!" Volk roared. "Press the attack! Your armor can take more than you think! Stop cowering and fight!" Garzuk gritted his teeth, his fear slowly giving way to determination. He charged forward again, slamming his shield into the Ogre''s knee with all his strength. THUD! The Ogre growled in pain, its massive frame wobbling slightly. Seizing the moment, Garzuk swung his blade at the creature''s leg, this time managing to leave a deep gash. "Yes!" Volk shouted, his voice filled with fierce approval. "That''s it! Keep at it! Bring the beast down!" But the Ogre wasn''t finished. It roared, lifting its club high and bringing it down in a devastating arc. CRASH! Garzuk raised his shield just in time, but the force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His shield arm hung limp, the bone likely fractured. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he forced himself back onto his knees. "Stand up!" Volk commanded, his eyes blazing. "You are an Orc! Pain means nothing! Get up and fight!" Garzuk roared, more out of desperation than courage, as he pushed himself to his feet. His legs trembled, and his vision blurred, but he pressed on. He feinted left, then rolled to the right, narrowly avoiding another swing of the Ogre''s club. "Good! Use your brain for once!" Volk shouted. "Now aim for its arms! Disarm it!" Garzuk lunged, his blade slicing across the Ogre''s forearm. The beast howled, dropping its club for a brief moment. "Now, Garzuk! Strike again! Do not give it a chance to recover!" Volk yelled. Garzuk swung his blade upward in a desperate arc, slashing the Ogre''s shoulder. SLASH! Blood sprayed, painting the ground and Garzuk''s armor. The Ogre stumbled, its movements growing sluggish as it tried to grab Garzuk with its massive hands. "Duck!" Volk screamed. Garzuk obeyed instinctively, dropping to the ground as the Ogre''s hand swiped over his head. "Now! Finish it!" Volk commanded, his voice like thunder. Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Garzuk drove his blade upward, piercing the Ogre''s chest. THUD! The beast let out a final, guttural roar before collapsing to the ground with a deafening crash. The forest fell silent, save for Garzuk''s ragged breaths. He stood over the fallen Ogre, his body trembling and his armor dented and bloodied. Volk stepped forward, his imposing figure towering over Garzuk. He clapped his hands slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad," Volk said, his voice carrying a hint of approval. "But you''re still clumsy. Next time, I expect better." Garzuk nodded weakly, his exhaustion evident. The rest of the horde erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the forest as they celebrated their comrade''s victory. Volk raised a hand, silencing them. His eyes scanned the horizon, his expression unreadable. "This is only the beginning," Volk said, his tone grave. "There are more Ogres out there. And I will force you all to face them all." Chapter 248 Training The hulking Ogre lay sprawled on the forest floor, unconscious and bloodied. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, mingled with the swampy stench of the forest. The Orcs, still catching their breath from the brutal encounter, gathered around the fallen beast, their faces a mixture of awe, unease, and a tinge of pride for Garzuk''s resilience. "What should we do with it, Warchief?" one of the Orcs asked, his voice cautious. "Do we finish it off? Drag it back as a trophy?" Volk stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet gleaming in the faint sunlight piercing through the thick canopy above. He stared down at the Ogre with an expression that betrayed no sympathy, but also no interest. "Leave it," Volk commanded, his tone flat but absolute. "Leave it?" another Orc questioned, his brows furrowing. "But it''s¡ª" "Do I look like I care for a useless lump of meat?" Volk interrupted, his voice rising. He gestured toward the deeper parts of the forest with a sweeping motion. ''There were humans coming, and if the Baron is a threat, it means that some could take on Volk too. It''s better to be sure and full of energy than to waste it dragging some of this filthy meat as a trophy. They can have as many trophies as they want after this,'' he thought. "We''re not here to waste time dragging bodies. We''re here to test your worth and the strength of your new armor! You want trophies? Earn them in battle, not from fallen trash." The Orcs fell silent, though a few exchanged uneasy glances. Volk''s fiery gaze silenced any murmurs of dissent. He turned away, the folds of his cape swishing behind him as he strode toward the darker parts of the forest. "Move out!" Volk barked. The Orcs trudged forward, their boots squelching in the mud. The deeper they ventured, the darker and more oppressive the forest became. Twisted trees loomed overhead like skeletal sentinels, their gnarled branches forming a labyrinth of shadows. The stench grew worse. It was no longer just the scent of damp earth and decaying vegetation. It was something else¡ªsomething alive and rank, like unwashed flesh soaked in rot. Volk''s nose flared as he sniffed the air. "They''re close," he said, his voice low but carrying authority. "How can you tell, Warchief?" one of the younger Orcs asked nervously. "Because I can feel it," Volk replied. Of course he''s an Ogre too. His Radioactive Form that was weakened for now. "Ogres stink of cowardice and brute arrogance. That smell you''re gagging on? That''s what stupidity smells like." A few Orcs chuckled nervously, but their laughter died quickly as the forest ahead began to rumble. THUD. THUD. THUD. The ground trembled beneath their feet. Bushes rustled violently, and trees swayed as something massive pushed its way through the dense foliage. Then they appeared. Three Ogres lumbered into view, each one towering over the Orcs. Their grotesque bodies were covered in thick, patchy hides, and their faces were twisted in permanent scowls. One carried a massive club fashioned from a tree trunk, another wielded a jagged boulder, and the third had nothing but its massive fists, each as large as an Orc''s torso. The Orcs tensed, gripping their weapons tightly. Garzuk, still nursing his injuries, shifted uncomfortably toward the back of the group. "Warchief," one of the Orcs whispered. "What''s the plan?" Volk raised a hand, silencing the question. His crimson gauntlet pulsed faintly as he pointed toward the Ogres. "You''ve trained enough," Volk said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "Now it''s time to prove yourselves." He stepped back, folding his arms. "Take them down. All of you." The Orcs hesitated, their eyes darting between the massive Ogres and Volk. "What are you waiting for?" Volk snarled. "An invitation? Attack!" One of the Orcs, emboldened by Volk''s command, let out a war cry and charged forward. The others followed suit, their cries echoing through the forest as they surged toward the Ogres. The first Ogre roared, swinging its club in a wide arc. WHOOSH! The air screamed as the massive weapon tore through it. The lead Orc barely managed to duck, the club passing over his head by inches and smashing into the ground with a deafening BOOM! "Get behind it!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "It''s slow! Use your speed, you fools!" Two Orcs darted to the sides, their blades glinting as they slashed at the Ogre''s legs. SLASH! SLASH! The beast bellowed in pain, swiping at them with its free hand. One Orc managed to dodge, but the other was caught by the backhanded blow. THWACK! The Orc was sent flying, crashing into a tree with a sickening crunch. "Focus!" Volk roared. "Don''t scatter like frightened Goblins! Work together!" Meanwhile, the second Ogre hurled its boulder toward the group. CRASH! The massive rock smashed into the ground, sending a shockwave that knocked several Orcs off their feet. "Get up!" Volk barked. "You call yourselves warriors? Stand and fight!" The third Ogre charged into the fray, its massive fists swinging wildly. One Orc raised his shield just in time to block the blow. BANG! The impact dented the shield and sent the Orc staggering back, but he held his ground. "Good!" Volk shouted. "Now counter! Strike its arm!" The Orc obeyed, thrusting his blade into the Ogre''s exposed arm. SHUNK! The beast roared, its arm hanging limp as blood gushed from the wound. The battle raged on, the forest filled with the sounds of clashing steel, roaring Ogres, and Volk''s relentless commands. "Don''t stand there! Attack its back!" "Shield up, you idiot! Do you want to die?" "Flank it! Make it fall!" The Orcs, though clumsy and inexperienced, began to adapt under Volk''s guidance. They worked together, using their numbers and agility to outmaneuver the Ogres. The first Ogre fell to its knees after an Orc drove a spear into its side. THUD! "Finish it!" Volk commanded. Another Orc leaped onto the Ogre''s back, plunging his blade into its neck. The beast let out one final, gurgling roar before collapsing to the ground. The second Ogre, now surrounded, swung its fists wildly, trying to fend off the attackers. "Keep it distracted!" Volk ordered. "One of you, go for its legs!" An Orc darted forward, slashing at the beast''s Achilles tendon. SNAP! The Ogre let out a blood-curdling scream as it toppled forward. The Orcs swarmed it like wolves, their blades stabbing and slicing until it lay still. The third Ogre, realizing it was outmatched, tried to retreat. "Coward!" Volk spat. "Don''t let it escape!" The Orcs pursued, their war cries shaking the forest as they descended upon the fleeing beast. SLASH! CRUNCH! THUD! Moments later, the Ogre lay dead, its massive body riddled with wounds. The Orcs stood over their fallen foes, panting and bloodied but victorious. They turned to Volk, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and exhaustion. Volk stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet glowing faintly. He looked at each of them, his expression unreadable. "You fought well," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "But this is only the beginning. There are more Ogres out there. They will be your stepping stones or you could be in their stomach." The Orcs nodded, their spirits bolstered by the hard-fought victory. Volk turned away, his mind already planning the next move. Chapter 249 Ogre Raid The dense forest seemed to tremble under the weight of heavy footfalls.The pungent stench of Ogre musk saturated the air, making even the hardy Orc warriors wrinkle their noses in disgust. But the scent also carried with it the thrill of another challenge. Volk, standing at the forefront, his crimson gauntlet gleaming ominously, raised his hand to silence the murmurs among his horde. "They''re close," Volk announced. His voice, like the growl of a predator, sent a ripple of anticipation through the Orcs. The sound of snapping branches echoed from deeper within the forest, accompanied by guttural growls that sent birds fluttering from the treetops. The Orcs tightened their grips on their weapons, their fingers brushing against the newly reinforced armor that gleamed even in the dim light. Volk''s gaze was sharp, his piercing eyes scanning the shadows as the vibrations beneath their feet grew stronger. "Steady," Volk commanded, his voice low but firm. From the dense underbrush, four Ogres emerged. Each was more imposing than the last. Their bulging muscles, covered in patchy, grime-caked skin, flexed as they stepped forward. Each carried a crude weapon: one swung a massive spiked club, another wielded a tree trunk as though it weighed nothing. The third clutched a massive boulder, and the fourth''s bare fists were as large as an Orc''s entire torso. The Orcs bristled but did not falter. They had faced Ogres before. This time, they were better prepared. "Form up!" Volk barked. The horde moved with an efficiency that had been absent in their earlier skirmishes. Shields locked into place, and spears pointed forward in a bristling line. The front row crouched slightly, creating a defensive phalanx. Behind them, archers knocked crude but deadly arrows. The Ogres roared, their guttural cries shaking the very ground. One charged forward, its tree-trunk club swinging downward in a devastating arc. WHOOSH! "Brace!" Volk shouted. The shield wall held firm as the club slammed into it. BOOM! The impact reverberated through the horde, but the Orcs stood their ground. The Ogre snarled, confused by the resilience of its smaller foes. "Now!" Volk commanded. "Pierce its flank!" Two Orcs darted out from the sides, their movements swift and precise. Their spears glinted as they stabbed into the Ogre''s exposed ribs. SHUNK! SHUNK! The beast howled in pain, swinging its massive arm to swat them away. "Evade!" Volk barked. The Orcs rolled away just in time, the Ogre''s arm crashing into the ground where they had stood moments before. Meanwhile, the second Ogre hurled its boulder toward the formation. "Scatter!" Volk yelled. The horde split like water, the massive rock landing with a thunderous CRASH! that sent dirt and debris flying. "Regroup!" Volk''s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Archers, aim for the eyes!" The archers loosed their arrows in a coordinated volley. TWANG! TWANG! The arrows flew true, striking the second Ogre in the face. THUNK! THUNK! The beast roared in agony, clawing at its eyes as it stumbled backward. "Push forward!" Volk shouted, his gauntlet glowing faintly with an intimidating red aura. The Orcs surged forward, their blades flashing as they targeted the second Ogre''s legs. SLASH! CRACK! The beast fell to its knees, its towering frame shaking the ground as it collapsed. The third Ogre, enraged by the sight of its fallen comrade, charged directly at the horde. Its spiked club swung in wide, devastating arcs, scattering the front line. "Do not break ranks!" Volk bellowed. "Surround it! Shields up!" The Orcs rallied, circling the rampaging Ogre. The beast''s wild swings glanced off their shields with deafening CLANGS! but did not break them. "Go for the knees!" Volk ordered. Four Orcs rushed forward, their axes and swords biting into the Ogre''s legs. THUD! The beast crashed to the ground, flailing helplessly as the Orcs swarmed it. The fourth Ogre, seeing the tide turn against its kin, hesitated for a moment before letting out an ear-splitting roar. It charged at Volk directly, its massive fists raised high. Volk stood his ground, his crimson gauntlet pulsing with a fierce light. "Come to me, then," Volk growled, his voice dripping with challenge. The Ogre''s fists came crashing down. BOOM! Volk sidestepped at the last moment, the ground where he had stood exploding into a crater. He raised his gauntlet, channeling its power into a concentrated strike. WHAM! The gauntlet connected with the Ogre''s arm, sending a shockwave rippling through its massive frame. The beast stumbled, its balance momentarily broken. "Now!" Volk roared. "Take it down!" The Orcs pounced, their weapons sinking into the Ogre''s flesh like a pack of wolves tearing apart their prey. SLASH! STAB! CRUNCH! Within moments, the forest was silent except for the ragged breathing of the victorious horde. The Ogres lay defeated, their massive forms sprawled across the battlefield. Volk surveyed the scene, his sharp eyes taking in the bloodied but triumphant faces of his warriors. "You''ve done well," he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "You fought as one. Efficient, ruthless. This is what it means to be a horde." The Orcs, still catching their breath, exchanged glances. It seems their Warchief was satisfied and it was satisfying for them too. The forest grew eerily silent as Volk''s horde pressed onward. Their confidence had grown with each victory, and the energy among the warriors was palpable. The scent of blood lingered in the air, mingling with the damp, earthy smell of the dense woods. Volk led the way, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows for movement. Every creak of the trees, every snap of a branch, sent a ripple of anticipation through the horde. "Stay alert," Volk commanded, his voice a low growl that carried authority. The Orcs moved as a unit, their steps synchronized, their weapons gleaming in the faint shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopy above. The armor they wore seemed to hum faintly, resonating with their collective determination. It wasn''t long before the faint sound of guttural grunts and heavy footsteps reached their ears. Volk raised a fist, and the horde froze. Ahead, the underbrush rustled, and the ground trembled ever so slightly. "They''re close," muttered one Orc, his grip tightening on his spear. "Form up," Volk ordered, his tone calm but firm. The Orcs moved quickly, shields raised, weapons ready. The front line crouched slightly, creating an impenetrable wall of steel and muscle. From the shadows emerged another group of Ogres¡ªfive this time, their brutish forms even more imposing than the last group. Their skin was a mottled mix of gray and brown, their eyes small and pig-like, yet filled with a savage intelligence. Each carried a weapon more terrifying than the last¡ªa jagged metal club, a spiked chain, and even a boulder the size of an Orc''s torso. The Ogres snarled, their breath coming out in visible puffs as they eyed the horde. "Steady!" Volk barked. One of the Ogres let out a deafening roar and charged, its massive feet shaking the ground with each step. BOOM! BOOM! "Hold the line!" Volk shouted. The horde braced themselves, shields locking together as the Ogre barreled into them. CRASH! The impact was thunderous, but the Orcs held firm. Their reinforced armor absorbed much of the force, and the Ogre, momentarily stunned by their resilience, stumbled back. "Flank it! Spears to the sides!" Volk commanded. Two Orcs darted from the formation, their movements precise and practiced. SHUNK! SHUNK! Their spears pierced the Ogre''s thick hide, drawing a bellow of pain. Another Ogre, enraged by the attack on its companion, swung its spiked chain in a wide arc. "Duck!" Volk roared. The Orcs dropped to the ground as the chain whipped overhead, tearing through the air with a sharp WHOOSH! "Counterattack! Aim for the legs!" The horde surged forward, their weapons targeting the vulnerable joints of the massive creature. SLASH! CRACK! The Ogre roared in pain, its knees buckling as it fell to the ground. The Orcs swarmed it, their weapons flashing as they delivered blow after blow. Meanwhile, the third Ogre hurled its boulder toward the center of the formation. "Scatter!" Volk commanded. The horde split apart like water, the massive rock landing with an earth-shaking THUD! "Archers, focus fire on that one!" Volk pointed toward the boulder-throwing Ogre. The archers nocked their arrows and loosed them in unison. TWANG! TWANG! The arrows struck true, embedding themselves in the Ogre''s face and neck. THUNK! THUNK! The beast staggered, its hands clawing at its wounds as it let out a pitiful howl. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The fourth Ogre charged into the fray, swinging its jagged club wildly. Its attacks were powerful but unfocused, each swing tearing through trees and sending splinters flying. "Draw its attention!" Volk ordered. Chapter 250 Intelligent Ogre Two Orcs stepped forward, banging their shields together to create a cacophony of noise.CLANG! CLANG! The Ogre turned toward them, its beady eyes narrowing. "Now, the legs!" Volk roared. Three more Orcs darted in from the sides, their axes biting into the Ogre''s legs. CHOP! THUD! The beast fell forward, its massive frame shaking the ground as it hit the dirt. The fifth Ogre, seeing its comrades defeated one by one, hesitated. It looked around, its brutish mind clearly calculating whether to fight or flee. "Don''t let it escape!" Volk shouted. The horde moved as one, encircling the lone Ogre. It swung its crude weapon in desperation, but the Orcs were too coordinated. They darted in and out, landing blows and retreating before the beast could retaliate. SLASH! STAB! CRUNCH! Within minutes, the last Ogre fell, its massive body collapsing in a heap. The forest grew silent once more, save for the ragged breathing of the victorious horde. The Orcs looked at one another, their faces a mix of exhaustion and pride. Their movements had been sharper, their attacks more precise. They were learning, growing stronger with each battle. Volk stood at the center, his crimson gauntlet faintly glowing as he surveyed the battlefield. A faint smirk played on his lips. "You''re improving," he said, his voice carrying over the group. "But there''s still room for growth. The enemy won''t always be this predictable." The Orcs nodded, their expressions determined. But before they could celebrate their victory, a low rumble shook the ground. The Orcs froze, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound. From the shadows of the forest, a far larger figure emerged. The ground trembled beneath its massive feet, and the very trees seemed to sway with its approach. The beast was an Ogre, but unlike any they had seen before. It towered over the others, its frame impossibly broad and muscular. Its skin was a dark, mottled gray, almost like stone, and its eyes burned with an eerie crimson light. In its hands, it carried a weapon that could only be described as a massive slab of jagged rock, shaped into a crude but devastating blade. The horde stared in stunned silence as the enormous Ogre stepped into the clearing. "What¡­ is that?" one Orc muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his smirk fading as he studied the colossal creature. "It seems we''ve found their leader," Volk said, his tone grim but laced with determination. The massive Ogre let out a deafening roar, the sound echoing through the forest like a thunderclap. The horde tensed, their weapons ready, as they awaited Volk''s command. The enormous Ogre''s guttural voice boomed through the clearing like a drumbeat from the heavens. "ME NO LEADER," it roared, its words simple and fragmented but carried with immense force. "WHY YOU ATTACK YOUNGSTERS?" The Orcs froze, their battle-ready stances breaking. The sight of an Ogre speaking, using words rather than mindless roars or grunts, sent a ripple of disbelief through the horde. "He¡­ it talks?" one Orc muttered, his voice quivering. Another Orc''s knees began to tremble. "Chief¡­ that''s¡­ that''s an intelligent Ogre!" The realization spread like wildfire. The once-bloodthirsty warriors, who had charged headlong into previous battles, now glanced nervously at one another. Some began to shuffle backward, their courage evaporating in the face of this anomaly. "Chief," one of the older Orcs stammered, stepping forward hesitantly. "This¡­ this is not like the others. We should go back. This is unnatural!" The panic rippled outward. "Chief Volk, please! We don''t need to fight this thing!" "It''s¡­ it''s too big! And it''s smart!" "Chief, look at its weapon! It''s huge! One swing could take out half of us!" More voices rose, some pleading, others shaking with fear. "Let''s regroup! Find another target!" "This isn''t worth it! We''re warriors, not¡­ not suicides!" Volk stood silent, his crimson gauntlet resting against his side, unmoving despite the chaos around him. His sharp eyes were locked on the towering Ogre, studying its every movement. The fear among his warriors grew. "Chief, please!" "Volk, we''ll die here!" "Why fight it? Let''s go!" But Volk raised his hand, palm open and fingers spread, commanding silence. "Hush," he said, his tone calm but carrying the weight of absolute authority. The Orcs fell silent, though their eyes darted nervously between their Warchief and the Ogre. Volk wasn''t listening to their panicked pleas anymore. His focus was entirely on the massive creature before him. Something stirred deep within his mind, an ache that felt familiar yet foreign. He narrowed his eyes, the memory clawing its way to the surface. A sensation washed over him, a powerful deja vu. This wasn''t the first time he had encountered a creature like this. No¡­ this reminded him of something else. His original horde. Back before he had been torn from them and thrust into this realm. Back when his warriors, his true kin, could ascend into their terrifying Grumgar forms¡ªhalf-Ogre monstrosities fueled by raw, unnatural power. The transformation was chaotic, violent, and absolute. It made them unstoppable, much like his own radioactive form. And now, this Ogre standing before him¡­ it was different from the wild brutes they had fought so far. Its posture, its weapon, its words¡­ they all carried echoes of that same transformation. This wasn''t just an Ogre. It was something closer to him and his lost warriors. Volk''s eyes flicked upward, and a translucent system screen appeared before him, visible only to his gaze. Hovering just above the Ogre''s head, glowing text began to display the creature''s information. ¡ª S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Name: Gar''ruk the Rememberer Race: Proto-Ogre (Ascended Form) Level: 33 Attributes: Strength: 450 Agility: 120 Intelligence: 80 Endurance: 500 Skills: Boulder Smash: Gar''ruk uses his massive weapon to create shockwaves that shatter the ground and stagger enemies. Tremor Roar: A deafening roar that shakes the surroundings, instilling fear and breaking enemy formations. Adaptive Instinct: Enhanced intelligence allows Gar''ruk to strategize and counteract enemies mid-battle. Resilience of Stone: Takes significantly reduced damage from physical attacks. Description: Gar''ruk is a rare, ascended Proto-Ogre who has retained fragments of higher intelligence from a bygone age. Unlike his brutish kin, he is capable of speech and reasoning. Though he appears as a mere wild beast, his presence marks the remnants of a powerful lineage that once rivaled the gods. ¡ª Volk''s eyes narrowed as he read the text. Proto-Ogre? Ascended Form? The terms were new to him, but they resonated deeply, scratching at the edges of his memory. This was no ordinary creature. And yet, it was clear that it wasn''t fully one of his own. The Ogre, Gar''ruk, tilted its massive head slightly, its fiery red eyes locking onto Volk. "WHY YOU HURT YOUNG?" Its voice rumbled like distant thunder. The accusation hung heavy in the air, and Volk could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. He lowered his hand, silencing the panicked murmurs of his warriors. He could sense their fear, their hesitation. This creature had shaken them to their core. But Volk¡­ Volk wasn''t afraid. He stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet glowing faintly as he clenched his fist. "This isn''t just another Ogre," Volk said, his voice calm but loud enough for his warriors to hear. "This is something else entirely, so I hope the Orcs will be prepared." Behind him, the Orcs whispered among themselves, their fear giving way to curiosity. But Volk didn''t wait for their questions. His focus remained entirely on Gar''ruk, the towering beast whose mere presence was enough to shake his hardened warriors. For now, he simply stared into the burning eyes of the so-called Rememberer. Chapter 251 Nah The atmosphere in the forest shifted, the air thickening like a suffocating fog.Every Orc present could feel it. Their hearts beat faster, their instincts warning them that something was dreadfully wrong. They had fought Ogres before, yes¡ªwild, savage beasts driven by brute force and primal rage. But this¡­ this was different. Fifteen Orcs. That was the number needed to stand a chance against an intelligent Ogre. Every warrior knew this as gospel, drilled into their minds by countless tales of failed battles and massacres. And yet, the horde, bolstered by their newfound armor and the victories they had claimed earlier, stood on edge but confident. Victory was within their grasp. Volk''s command hung in the air, his crimson gauntlet subtly glowing as he prepared to give the order. But Gar''ruk moved first. The towering Proto-Ogre, with muscles like boulders and eyes that gleamed with a sinister, knowing light, didn''t roar or charge like the other Ogres. No, his steps were slow, deliberate, and chillingly calm. The ground beneath him trembled with each step, the vibrations spreading through the forest floor like ripples in a pond. The Orcs tightened their grips on their weapons, their breaths shallow. They expected an attack, a monstrous swing of Gar''ruk''s massive weapon or a deafening roar. But instead, the Ogre turned away. "Wha¡­ what''s he doing?" one Orc whispered, his voice barely audible. "Stay sharp," Volk said, his voice a growl. "Don''t let your guard down." Gar''ruk lumbered over to the body of one of his fallen kin¡ªa massive Ogre that had been defeated just moments ago. Its body with still remaining life form lay sprawled across the forest floor, its chest caved in from the brutal blows it had suffered. The Orcs watched, confusion flashing across their faces. Gar''ruk knelt down, his enormous frame dwarfing the fallen Ogre. His movements were slow and deliberate, almost reverent, as if he were performing some sacred ritual. His massive hand reached out, fingers curling around the still alive but unconscious Ogre''s head. "What¡­ what''s he doing?" another Orc muttered, stepping back instinctively. "No idea," another replied, his voice trembling. Volk narrowed his eyes, his instincts screaming at him to intervene. But something held him back¡ªa strange, gut-wrenching sense of foreboding. And then it happened. With a sudden, brutal motion, Gar''ruk''s hand clenched, his fingers digging into the fallen Ogre''s skull with a sickening crunch. The sound was wet and visceral, like a melon being crushed underfoot. The Orcs recoiled, some gasping audibly. "What the¡ª" "Is he¡ª" Before anyone could finish their thoughts, Gar''ruk lifted the lifeless body into the air as if it weighed nothing. Blood dripped from the wounds, pooling at his feet. The Ogre tilted his head back, his mouth opening unnaturally wide, revealing rows of jagged, yellowed teeth. The Orcs froze, their eyes widening in horror. "No¡­ no way¡­" one stammered, his voice barely a whisper. And then, Gar''ruk bit down. Crunch! The sound of bones snapping echoed through the clearing, louder than any war cry. The Ogre''s teeth sank into the flesh of its fallen kin, tearing away a massive chunk. Blood sprayed, painting his face and chest in crimson streaks. The Orcs recoiled, some turning away, unable to watch. Others gripped their weapons tighter, their knuckles whitening as fear coursed through them. "He''s¡­ he''s eating it!" "No! That''s impossible!" "Chief, what is this?! What is he doing?!" Volk didn''t respond. His eyes were locked on the grotesque scene before him, his mind racing. This wasn''t normal behavior¡ªnot for Ogres, not for any creature in this cursed forest. Gar''ruk chewed, the wet, sloshing sounds of flesh and sinew filling the silence. His jaw moved methodically, his eyes closing as if savoring the taste. Blood dripped from his lips, pooling at his feet. He swallowed audibly, the motion of his throat visible even from a distance. And then he went back for more. His massive hands tore into the body, ripping it apart like a child tearing into a piece of bread. Chunks of muscle and fat were pulled free, devoured with brutal efficiency. The sound of his feeding was relentless¡ªcrunch, squelch, rip! Some Orcs began to back away, their courage faltering. "This¡­ this isn''t right," one muttered, his voice shaking. "This isn''t a fight. This is¡­ this is something else!" "Chief!" another shouted, his voice cracking. "We can''t face that! We''re not prepared for¡­ whatever that is!" "Silence!" Volk barked, his voice cutting through the rising panic like a blade. "Hold your ground!" But even Volk couldn''t deny the knot of unease twisting in his gut. Gar''ruk continued his gruesome feast, his breathing growing heavier with each bite. Steam rose from his body, mingling with the blood-soaked air. The Ogre''s muscles seemed to ripple and grow, his already enormous frame swelling with newfound strength. The Orcs watched in horror as the wounds on Gar''ruk''s body¡ªsmall cuts and scrapes from previous battles or hunts before it came here¡ªbegan to close. The flesh knitted itself back together, leaving no trace of injury. "He''s¡­ he''s healing!" "It''s the blood!" "No! It''s not just the blood. It''s¡­ something else!" Gar''ruk finally stopped, his feast complete. He dropped the mangled remains of the fallen Ogre, the body now unrecognizable. Blood dripped from his hands and face, his chest heaving with deep, guttural breaths. He turned back to the horde, his fiery red eyes burning brighter than ever. "YOU SEE NOW," he roared, his voice shaking the very trees around them. "ME STRONGER. ME REMEMBER." The Orcs stood frozen, their confidence shattered. The Orcs stood frozen, their confidence shattered. The victories they had claimed earlier now felt like distant memories, meaningless in the face of this abomination. Volk, however, stepped forward, his gauntlet glowing faintly as he clenched his fist. His crimson eyes locked onto Gar''ruk, unflinching. "This changes nothing," Volk said, his voice cold and firm. "We are the horde. We do not retreat." Gar''ruk tilted his head, a cruel smile spreading across his blood-streaked face. "GOOD," he rumbled. "ME LIKE FIGHT." Gar''ruk loomed over the horde, his massive frame casting a shadow over the blood-soaked clearing. His fiery red eyes darted between the Orcs, his sharp, broken-toothed grin almost feral. But there was a shift in his expression¡ªsomething cunning and calculating. Despite his bravado, the Ogre understood his position. He was outnumbered, and while his strength was undeniable, he wasn''t invincible. "ME LIKE FIGHT," Gar''ruk boomed, his guttural voice reverberating through the air. "BUT ME NOT FOOL. FOUR OF YOU. ME FIGHT FOUR. YOU WIN, ME WORK UNDER YOU." The horde froze, glancing at one another in confusion. An intelligent Ogre was already terrifying, but an Ogre proposing terms of combat? That was unheard of. "What''s he saying?" one Orc muttered, gripping his weapon tightly. "He''s proposing¡­ a deal?" another whispered, his brow furrowed. Volk stood silent for a moment, his crimson eyes narrowing as he studied Gar''ruk. The Ogre''s massive chest heaved, and though his demeanor was bold, Volk could see it¡ªthe faintest flicker of uncertainty. Gar''ruk was stalling. "Chief," one Orc spoke hesitantly, his voice tinged with fear. "What should we do? Should we¡­ accept?" Volk raised his hand, silencing the murmurs. He stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet catching the faint rays of sunlight filtering through the trees. The horde parted for him instinctively, their eyes filled with expectation. Volk looked Gar''ruk straight in the eye, his expression cold and unreadable. Then, he smirked. "Nah," Volk said casually, his voice dripping with disdain. "Beat him up." The horde erupted into motion. Gar''ruk''s grin faltered, his confidence wavering as the Orcs surged toward him. "WAIT! NO¡ª" The first Orc struck, his battle-axe swinging toward Gar''ruk''s legs. The Ogre leapt back with surprising agility for his size, the blade whistling past him and embedding itself in the ground with a resounding thunk. "TO THE FLANKS!" Volk barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "SURROUND HIM! DON''T GIVE HIM SPACE TO BREATHE!" The horde obeyed instantly, spreading out to encircle Gar''ruk. The Ogre growled, his massive fists clenching as he prepared for the onslaught. "TOO MANY!" Gar''ruk roared, his voice tinged with panic. One Orc lunged forward, shield raised high. Gar''ruk swung his massive arm, the force of the blow sending the shield splintering into pieces with a deafening CRACK! The Orc was thrown back, crashing into a tree with a grunt of pain. "KEEP MOVING!" Volk shouted. "HE''S STRONG BUT SLOW! DON''T LET HIM FOCUS ON ONE OF YOU!" The horde adjusted their tactics, darting in and out like a swarm of hornets. One Orc swung his sword at Gar''ruk''s side, while another aimed for his legs. The Ogre roared in frustration, spinning to defend himself. His fists lashed out wildly, each strike powerful enough to shatter bone, but the Orcs stayed just out of reach. "TO THE KNEES!" Volk commanded. "BRING HIM DOWN!" Gar''ruk stumbled as an Orc''s hammer connected with the back of his knee, the sound of the impact echoing through the clearing. The Ogre''s massive frame wavered, but he didn''t fall. "AGAIN!" Volk shouted, his eyes gleaming with determination. "DON''T LET UP!" Two Orcs charged from opposite sides, their weapons slamming into Gar''ruk''s legs simultaneously. The Ogre let out a guttural scream, his knees buckling. He dropped to one knee, his fists pounding the ground in frustration. "ENOUGH!" Gar''ruk roared, his voice desperate. He swung his arm in a wide arc, sending two Orcs flying with a single swipe. His chest heaved, his movements becoming more erratic. "ME NOT LOSE!" "KEEP PRESSURE!" Volk yelled, stepping closer. "HE''S ON HIS LAST LEGS!" The horde pressed forward, their confidence growing with each passing second. They struck in coordinated bursts, their blows landing harder and faster. Gar''ruk tried to fight back, but his movements were sluggish, his massive body unable to keep up with the relentless assault. "FOCUS THE WEAK SPOTS!" Volk bellowed, pointing to the joints in Gar''ruk''s massive arms and legs. "HE CAN''T DEFEND THEM ALL!" The Orcs obeyed, their strikes targeting Gar''ruk''s vulnerable points. The Ogre''s roars grew weaker, his massive frame swaying like a felled tree. Finally, with one last, desperate swing of his arm, Gar''ruk collapsed to his knees. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling from exhaustion and pain. Blood dripped from countless wounds, pooling at his feet. The horde stepped back, their weapons still at the ready. They looked to Volk, waiting for his command. Volk approached slowly, his crimson gauntlet gleaming in the dim light. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He stopped a few feet from the fallen Ogre, his gaze cold and unyielding. Gar''ruk looked up at him, his fiery red eyes flickering with a mix of fear and defiance. "Me... no lose," the Ogre muttered weakly, his voice barely audible. Volk smirked. "Oh, you''ve already lost.". Chapter 252 Suicidal Call The clearing grew eerily silent.The only sounds were the shallow breaths of the Orcs and the faint rustle of the leaves in the wind. Volk stared at Gar''ruk, whose massive frame knelt in the dirt, trembling from exhaustion. Blood pooled beneath the Ogre, but there was something off¡ªsomething unnatural in the way his body quivered. Gar''ruk made a low, guttural sound, almost like a growl, but it carried a strange rhythm. His head hung low, his massive shoulders rising and falling like tidal waves. The Orcs exchanged wary glances, their weapons still raised, but none dared move closer. "What''s he doing?" one of the Orcs whispered, his voice shaking. "Is¡­ is he surrendering?" another asked, his grip tightening on his weapon. Volk narrowed his eyes, his instincts screaming at him. There was no surrender here. The air had changed¡ªthicker, heavier, charged with something primal. Gar''ruk wasn''t broken. He was waiting. Volk stepped forward, his gauntlet gleaming as he raised a hand to silence the murmurs. "Stay back," he ordered, his voice firm but low. His crimson eyes scanned Gar''ruk, watching every twitch of muscle, every labored breath. "Something isn''t right." Gar''ruk''s growl grew louder, resonating like a drumbeat. His massive hands dug into the dirt, clawing at it as if trying to anchor himself. Then, he froze. The sudden stillness was deafening. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, his instincts screaming louder than ever. "Gar''ruk," he called, his voice sharp, trying to break the tension. "What are you doing?" The Ogre didn''t respond. Instead, his chest expanded, filling with an unnatural breath. The sound of his lungs inflating was wrong¡ªwet and guttural, like a storm brewing inside him. His massive frame quaked, his head slowly lifting, his eyes glowing faintly with an ominous light. "Get back!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. But before anyone could react, Gar''ruk threw his head back and unleashed a deafening roar. "RAAAAAAAAARGH!" The cry wasn''t just a sound. It was a force. The ground trembled violently beneath them, cracks spiderwebbing through the earth as if the land itself recoiled from the Ogre''s rage. Trees swayed and groaned, their branches snapping under the sheer pressure of the sound. The air vibrated, thick and oppressive, wrapping around the Orcs like an invisible chain. Several Orcs stumbled, clutching their ears as the roar pierced through them. Some fell to their knees, their weapons clattering to the ground. "WHAT IS THIS?!" one shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony. "IT''S LIKE MY HEAD''S GOING TO SPLIT!" another cried, dropping his axe as he doubled over. Volk stood firm, though his body tensed against the sheer weight of the sound. His gauntlet glowed faintly, reacting to the unnatural energy radiating from Gar''ruk. The Ogre''s roar seemed to stretch on forever, a primal, unrelenting scream that carried the weight of something ancient and terrible. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. The silence that followed was almost worse. Gar''ruk''s body slumped forward, his massive hands falling limp at his sides. His chest heaved one last time before his entire frame collapsed to the ground with a thunderous THUD. The Orcs stared in stunned silence, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. None of them moved, their eyes locked on the lifeless form of the once-mighty Ogre. "Is¡­ is he dead?" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible. Another stepped forward hesitantly, his weapon trembling in his hand. "Chief¡­ what just happened?" Volk didn''t answer immediately. His crimson eyes remained fixed on Gar''ruk''s corpse, his mind racing. The cry wasn''t just a death wail. It was a call. A warning. He clenched his gauntlet, the metal creaking under the pressure. His jaw tightened, the weight of realization settling over him like a storm cloud. Finally, he turned to face the horde, his expression grim. "Be prepared," Volk said, his voice cutting through the fear like steel. The Orcs stiffened, their confusion giving way to unease. "Prepared for what?" one of them asked, his voice trembling. Volk glanced back at Gar''ruk''s body, his gauntlet glowing faintly as he clenched it into a fist. "Something''s coming." The forest seemed to come alive with an eerie, unnatural energy. The rustling of leaves above them grew louder, but it wasn''t from the wind. The faint sound of wings flapping reached Volk''s ears. He turned his gaze skyward, squinting through the dense canopy of trees. From the shadows of the branches, dark shapes shot upward. Flap-flap-flap! Birds¡ªlarge, sleek, and utterly foreign to him¡ªburst out of the trees in panicked flocks. Their cries were sharp and unnatural, almost metallic, as though fear itself had given them voice. Their wings gleamed with faint magical hues, leaving shimmering trails behind them as they vanished into the sky. "What the¡ª" one of the Orcs started, his eyes wide as he followed the strange creatures. "Birds don''t fly like that," another muttered. "Not unless¡ª" "Yeah," Volk interrupted, his voice sharp and commanding. His eyes scanned the shifting forest, the tension in the air growing thicker by the second. The birds weren''t the only ones fleeing. Out of the underbrush, small, glowing creatures began darting into the open. Volk frowned, his gaze locking onto them. They weren''t like any animals he''d ever seen before. Some had sleek, crystal-like bodies that shimmered with pale blue light. Others resembled small foxes, their tails ablaze with flickering, golden flames. They dashed through the clearing, their movements frantic, their luminous forms leaving trails of light behind them. "Chief¡­" an Orc whispered, taking a step back. Volk held up a hand to silence him. His eyes narrowed, watching the creatures weave and scurry past. Their movements weren''t random¡ªthey were all heading in the same direction. Away. From something. The buzzing came next. A low, droning hum that grew louder with each passing second. Volk''s eyes darted to the edges of the clearing as a swarm of insects poured out of the foliage like a living river. Beetles with glowing carapaces. Moths the size of a human hand, their wings pulsating with faint green light. Even monstrous centipedes, their segmented bodies radiating a dull red glow, scuttled past in a frenzy. "By the Horde¡­" one of the Orcs muttered, his face pale as he watched the tide of insects rush past their feet. Volk frowned. Insects didn''t flee unless the very earth itself had turned against them. He opened his mouth to issue a command but stopped short. The ground trembled beneath him. At first, it was faint¡ªso subtle it might have been the weight of his imagination. But then it grew stronger. Thud¡­ Thud¡­ The tremors came in steady intervals, like the beat of a massive drum. Each one was heavier than the last, rippling through the ground and shaking loose the dirt at their feet. "Chief!" one of the Orcs cried, stumbling as the earth shook harder. THUD. THUD. The vibrations were no longer subtle. The tremors rattled the forest, shaking trees and sending loose branches tumbling to the ground. The rhythmic thudding was joined by a deep, guttural rumble¡ªlow and ominous, like the growl of some ancient beast waking from slumber. Volk''s crimson eyes darted from one side of the clearing to the other. The forest was alive with noise now¡ªbirds screeching, insects buzzing, the ground groaning under an unseen weight. Yet, through the chaos, his instincts honed in on something else. A presence. "Hold your ground!" Volk commanded, his voice sharp and cutting through the rising panic of his horde. But the Orcs were not listening. "This isn''t right, Chief!" one of them shouted, his eyes darting around wildly. "This place¡ªit''s cursed! We shouldn''t be here!" "We need to leave!" another pleaded, gripping his axe tightly as his knuckles turned white. "Look at the animals!" a third cried. "Even the forest is running away!" Volk turned, his crimson gaze locking onto the panicked faces of his horde. He raised his hand high, demanding silence. "Enough!" he barked. The Orcs froze, their fear momentarily subdued by the force of Volk''s voice. "This isn''t the time for cowards!" Volk growled, his voice like steel. "Whatever it is, we face it! We are the Horde!" "But Chief¡­" one of them muttered, his voice trembling. "This doesn''t feel like something we can fight." Volk''s eyes narrowed. "Are you Orcs or mewling goblins?" he spat. "Stand your ground!" The tremors grew stronger still, the earth beneath their feet shifting and groaning. A loud CRACK split the air as a nearby tree toppled, its ancient trunk splitting clean in two. And then, through the trees, the first shadow appeared. It was massive, looming over the forest like a mountain come to life. It moved with deliberate, thunderous steps, the ground quaking with every motion. The Orcs froze, their gazes locked on the colossal silhouette. "What is that¡­" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise. Volk''s jaw tightened. His gauntleted fist clenched at his side as more shadows emerged behind the first, each one massive and monstrous, their movements slow but purposeful. He didn''t need the system to tell him what was coming. "Be prepared," Volk said, his voice low but steady. His crimson eyes burned with resolve as he stared at the encroaching shadows. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 253 Gang of Ogres The forest seemed to hold its breath as the rumbling grew louder.The vibrations in the ground felt like a drumbeat, heavy and deliberate, and each step seemed to echo with ominous intent. The shadows that had loomed large moments ago now emerged fully into the dim, murky light of the forest. The Ogres were massive, towering over even the tallest of the Orcs. Their skin was a mottled patchwork of grays, greens, and browns, with warts and scars marking their grotesque faces and thick, muscular limbs. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their matted hair hung in greasy tangles, and the stench that accompanied them was unbearable¡ªa rancid mix of sweat, decay, and unwashed filth. Their tusks protruded unevenly from their jaws, yellowed and chipped, but sharp enough to puncture steel. Each carried crude but brutal weapons: spiked clubs, jagged axes, and rusted blades, all stained with what could only be dried blood. Their armor was a collection of scavenged metal pieces, animal hides, and bones, strapped together haphazardly but functional in their savagery. Beady eyes glared down at the Orcs, glinting with malice and a twisted sort of intelligence. The largest Ogre stepped forward, his breath rasping heavily, fogging the air with a noxious mist. His voice boomed, shaking the very leaves on the trees. "Who come here? Tiny Orcs... think big enough to face us? Bah!" He spat to the ground, the globule steaming where it landed. "Orcs not welcome. You leave, or you DIE!" The Orcs bristled at the insult, but their formation held firm. Volk stepped forward, his presence imposing despite his smaller size compared to the Ogres. His golden armor gleamed faintly in the muted light, and his eyes burned with determination. One of the Orcs behind him whispered, barely audible, "What are they waiting for? Why haven''t they attacked yet?" The largest Ogre growled, his heavy jowls quivering. "You speak? You want fight? Or you too scared?" His thick fingers pointed accusingly, his hand so massive it could easily crush the skull of an Orc with a single squeeze. Volk raised his hand, silencing his horde. His voice was calm but commanding. "We come here not to run. We come here to conquer. If you think we''re afraid, then you''re even dumber than you look." The Ogres erupted into guttural laughter, their bellies shaking. One slapped another on the back with enough force to send him stumbling forward. "Orc think they strong!" said a shorter, squatter Ogre with an oddly high-pitched voice. "Horde of Orcs no match for one Ogre, let alone us! HA! Maybe we squish you quick. Maybe we play with you first!" Another Ogre chimed in, his voice like gravel grinding in a deep pit. "We no like Orcs. Orcs weak. Orcs coward. Orcs run from fight!" One of Volk''s warriors, unable to hold back his rage, stepped forward. "Watch your mouth, you filthy overgrown beast!" The largest Ogre''s face darkened, his grin fading into a dangerous snarl. He bent down, bringing his face level with the Orc. "What you say, little worm? Say again, so I hear before I crush you into dirt." The Orc hesitated, his earlier bravado faltering under the Ogre''s intense glare. Volk stepped in before the situation escalated. "Enough." His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension. "We didn''t come here to argue. If you want a fight, then stop barking and prepare yourselves." The largest Ogre straightened, his thick neck cracking audibly. "You sure, little Orc? You sure you no run? No cry for mercy when we squish you and your friends?" Volk met his gaze unflinchingly. "You think I''m afraid of you? Your size doesn''t scare me. Your smell, maybe." He smirked, letting the insult hang in the air. The Ogres growled, their hands tightening around their weapons. One snarled, "You got big mouth for small Orc. We shut it soon." The Orcs behind Volk shifted nervously, their confidence shaken by the sheer size and ferocity of the Ogres. One of them whispered urgently to Volk, "Warchief¡­ these aren''t like the other Ogres. They''re smarter¡­ stronger. Maybe we should¡ª" Volk shot him a glare that silenced him instantly. "Cowards have no place in my horde," he said, his voice cold. "If you''re too scared to fight, you can leave now." The Ogre leader chuckled darkly. "Your Orcs scared. They shaking like leaves. Maybe we no need fight. Maybe you leave now, save yourselves." Volk didn''t flinch. "Enough talk. If you''re ready to die, then come. But I warn you, Ogres¡ªthis horde is not like any you''ve faced before." The largest Ogre grinned, revealing rows of jagged teeth. "Good. We like Orcs with fight. More fun to break!" The two groups began to spread out, forming a makeshift battlefield in the dense forest. The Orcs, though outmatched in size, formed tight ranks, their new armor glinting faintly. The Ogres stood in a loose, chaotic line, their sheer mass and raw power making them seem invincible. Volk turned to his horde. "Hold the line," he commanded. "Stay together. Follow my orders, and we will crush them." The Ogres snorted and stomped the ground, their massive feet shaking the earth. The largest Ogre raised his weapon high, a crude but deadly spiked club, and bellowed, "COME, ORCS! SHOW US HOW YOU DIE!" Volk raised his sword, pointing it directly at the Ogre leader. "Horde, prepare to fight!" The forest fell silent for a brief moment, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, with a deafening roar, both sides charged. Each of their steps sent tremors through the earth, shaking the surrounding trees. Their guttural roars reverberated through the forest, a cacophony of primal fury that made even the most battle-hardened Orcs flinch. For a brief moment, it seemed as though the weight of the Ogres'' sheer presence might crush the Orcs before the battle had truly begun. Volk, standing in the center of his horde, raised his hand. His voice cut through the madness, sharp and commanding, like the crack of a whip. "Hold your ground!" he barked. "Focus on defense! Shields up! Form the wall!" Read latest chapters at empire The Orcs scrambled to obey, their earlier confidence wavering in the face of the towering, snarling Ogres. Shields clanged together as they hastily formed a defensive line, their movements hurried and chaotic. Spears bristled outward from between the gaps, but many wavered, the trembling hands of their wielders betraying their fear. The Ogres wasted no time exploiting the disarray. One surged forward with a bellowing roar, swinging a club the size of a tree trunk. WHOOOM! The impact against the front of the shield wall sent a ripple of force through the Orcs. They stumbled back, their formation bending dangerously under the brute strength of the attack. Volk''s eyes narrowed. "Tighten the line!" he commanded. "Push back! Don''t let them break through!" An Orc near the front, barely holding his ground, shouted in desperation, "Warchief, they''re too strong!" Volk''s voice rose above the din. "They''re strong because you let them be! Stand firm, or you''ll be the reason we fall!" Another Ogre lunged, this one wielding a jagged axe. It came down in a sweeping arc, aimed to cleave through both shields and flesh. CLANG! A shield caught the blow, its bearer staggering but holding his ground. The Ogre sneered, preparing for another strike, but Volk''s sharp command rang out: "Brace! Lock shields together! Use their weight against them!" Chapter 254 We surrender The Orcs began to adjust, their movements slowing as they found rhythm in Volk''s orders.Shields interlocked, creating a unified wall. The next time an Ogre struck, THOOM! the shield line absorbed the blow with a dull, resounding thud. Though the force made their boots dig into the earth, the line did not break. "Good!" Volk roared, pacing behind them like a predator watching over its pack. "Now, stabilize! Front row, focus on defense! Second row, spears ready! Don''t thrust yet¡ªwait for my signal!" The Ogres, noticing the growing cohesion, grew more aggressive. One of them grabbed a nearby boulder and hurled it toward the line. WHIRRR¡ªCRASH! It smashed into the ground just shy of the Orcs, spraying dirt and debris. Another Ogre roared, charging headlong at the formation, its jagged blade aimed straight at the shields. Volk''s eyes flicked to the charging beast. "Front line, brace! Second row, strike at its legs when it gets close! Stay together!" The Orcs followed his commands. As the Ogre barreled toward them, its weapon smashed down onto the shields, sending sparks flying. But as its momentum carried it forward, the spears from the second row jabbed out in unison, aiming for its thick, muscled legs. THUNK! THUNK! The tips bit into flesh, eliciting a howl of pain from the Ogre. It stumbled, its knee buckling. "Pull back and reset!" Volk shouted. "Don''t overextend!" The Orcs obeyed, retreating just enough to reform the line. The injured Ogre thrashed wildly but failed to land another hit as it tried to retreat, limping back toward its allies. The battle continued like this, a grueling test of endurance. At first, the Ogres'' relentless assault rattled the Orcs. Blows fell heavy and fast, the ground shaking with every impact. Yet, as Volk''s voice cut through the chaos again and again, the Orcs began to adapt. Their movements grew sharper, their defenses sturdier. One Ogre, frustrated by the impenetrable wall, reached down and grabbed one of the shields, tearing it away with a roar. The Orc behind it barely had time to react as the Ogre''s fist swung toward him. "Duck! Roll to your right!" Volk shouted. The Orc dove to the ground, just narrowly avoiding the crushing blow. Another Orc stepped forward to fill the gap, shield raised high. "Good! Cover each other! No gaps!" Volk commanded, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and pride. The Ogres'' ferocity began to falter as their efforts were met with unyielding resistance. Every time they struck, the shields held firm. Every time they overcommitted, the spears darted out, striking at legs and arms, drawing blood. "Push forward!" Volk finally called, his voice rising like a battle horn. "Step by step! Drive them back!" The Orcs began to advance. Their shield wall moved as one, inching forward with each synchronized step. The Ogres, unused to such organized resistance, began to hesitate. One swung its club wildly, but the shield wall absorbed the blow without faltering. Another tried to charge but was met with a line of spears that drove it back with a pained roar. By now, the Orcs were no longer trembling. Their movements were confident, their shields a unified bulwark. Each command from Volk was met with instant obedience. The line advanced relentlessly, forcing the Ogres to retreat step by step. Volk smirked as he watched the tide turn. "That''s it," he said under his breath. "You''re learning. Good." The Ogres, now bloodied and frustrated, growled in frustration. One of them slammed its weapon into the ground, sending a shockwave that knocked a few Orcs off balance. "Recover!" Volk barked immediately. "Back in formation! Don''t let them intimidate you!" Explore more at empire The Orcs scrambled back into position, their shield wall re-forming almost instantly. The next Ogre that charged was met with a coordinated counter strike. Spears jabbed into its legs, forcing it to stumble. The shields pressed forward, slamming into its torso and sending it crashing to the ground. "Finish it!" Volk commanded, and a flurry of spear thrusts ended the Ogre''s struggles. The remaining Ogres hesitated, glancing at one another. Their confidence, once overwhelming, was now shaken. The Orcs, on the other hand, stood tall, their line unbroken. Volk paced behind them, his voice calm but filled with authority. "See? They''re not invincible. They bleed like any other beast. You''re Orcs of the Horde¡ªact like it!" The Orcs roared in response, their voices filled with newfound pride and determination. The Ogres, sensing the shift in momentum, roared back in defiance. And then, with a final command from Volk, the Orcs prepared to push forward again. The battle was far from over, but the tide had turned. The battlefield hung in an uneasy silence, broken only by the labored breaths of the weary combatants. The Ogres, battered and bloodied, slumped where they stood, their massive forms heaving as they struggled to stay upright. Across from them, the Orcs remained in their tight formation, shields locked, and spears poised, though the tension in their lines had eased. The Ogres had spent their fury against the unyielding defense, and now they looked more like overgrown beasts than unstoppable juggernauts. Volk stood behind the Orcs, his arms crossed and his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. His mind worked quickly, weighing the benefits of ending the fight now against the potential gains of prolonging it. Sweat trickled down his temple, but his stance remained strong, his presence an anchor for his horde. One of the Orcs near the center of the line turned his head slightly, daring to speak over his shoulder. "Warchief," he rasped, voice hoarse from the tension of battle. "They''re done. One more push, and they''ll fall. Should we end it now?" The murmurs of agreement rippled through the Orc ranks. The idea of a swift and decisive victory was tempting, especially after enduring the relentless attacks of the Ogres. Many of them still bore minor injuries and bruises, even if the shields had done their job. Volk raised a hand, silencing the whispers. His eyes remained fixed on the Ogres, watching their labored movements and the flicker of confusion in their dim, animalistic gazes. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He took a deep breath, then turned to address his warriors. "No," he said firmly, his voice carrying a weight that silenced even the grumbles of dissent. "We fall back." The Orc who had spoken looked bewildered. "Fall back?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Warchief, they''re vulnerable. One more push, and we can¡ª" "Fall. Back." Volk''s voice was like steel, brooking no argument. He stepped forward, his presence alone enough to cow the protesting Orc. "Look at yourselves. You''re still clumsy. Your shield formations falter under pressure. Your spear thrusts are imprecise. "Yes, you''ve done well, but there''s more to learn. These Ogres are tired, yes, but so are you. Do you think you''ll learn anything from a fight you win too easily?" The Orcs exchanged uncertain glances. The logic was sound, but the idea of retreating when victory was so close was foreign to their bloodthirsty instincts. Still, Volk''s reputation and the undeniable authority in his tone made them nod reluctantly. As the order spread, the Orcs began to pull back, their movements deliberate and measured. The Ogres, seeing the retreat, blinked in confusion. Their hulking forms swayed on unsteady legs, and their primitive minds struggled to process what they were witnessing. Relief washed over their brutish faces, though their expressions were still wary. Volk watched as the Ogres slumped against trees or collapsed onto the ground, their weapons lying forgotten beside them. The massive creatures were too exhausted to pursue, and their breaths came in guttural wheezes. For a moment, it seemed as though the battle had truly ended. But Volk had other plans. Chapter 255 Ogres Shackles The Orcs regrouped at a safe distance, their lines straightening under Volk''s watchful gaze.He paced before them, his eyes sharp and assessing. "Look at them," he said, gesturing toward the recovering Ogres. "They think it''s over. They think we''re done." The Orcs followed his gaze, watching as the Ogres drank from muddy streams and slumped into uneasy rests. Confusion flickered across their faces. "Warchief," one of them said hesitantly, "if we''re not done, then why did we fall back?" "To train you," Volk said simply, his voice carrying a note of challenge. "Do you think you''ve mastered your new strength? Your armor? Your formations? No. You''ve merely tasted the beginning of what it means to fight as a unit. And those overgrown beasts?" He gestured at the Ogres, who were now licking their wounds. "They''re perfect for this." The Orcs exchanged looks, slowly beginning to understand. The retreat wasn''t weakness¡ªit was strategy. Volk wasn''t letting them win too easily, but neither was he letting them lose. He was using the Ogres as training dummies, pushing his horde to the brink and beyond, sharpening them into a weapon worthy of the Horde''s legacy. Your journey continues with empire An hour later, the Ogres stirred, their strength partially recovered. They rose from their positions, stretching their massive limbs and growling slowly among themselves. The relief they had felt earlier was replaced by confusion when they saw the Orcs reforming their line in the distance. The lead Ogre tilted his head, scratching it with a dirt-encrusted hand. "What¡­ what Orcs doing?" he muttered, his voice a rumble of broken syllables. "They¡­ leave?" Before he could make sense of it, the Orcs began to advance again. Shields locked, spears bristling, they moved in a coordinated formation that was far more disciplined than before. The Ogres grunted in alarm, their primitive minds struggling to comprehend why the Orcs would return after retreating. Volk''s voice rang out from behind the line. "Shields up! Spears are steady! Advance at half pace¡ªcontrol your movement!" His commands were sharp, precise, and the Orcs obeyed without hesitation. The Ogres roared in frustration. One of them grabbed a boulder and hurled it at the advancing line. The rock flew through the air, spinning wildly. WHOOOM! CRACK! It smashed into the ground just short of the Orcs, sending dirt and debris flying. "Hold!" Volk commanded. "Maintain formation! Keep moving forward!" The Orcs stepped over the debris, their shields held firm. They were no longer rattled by the display of brute strength. They had learned to trust their armor and their formation. As they closed the distance, the Ogres, now on their feet and snarling, prepared to charge. The clash that followed was a test of endurance and discipline. The Ogres, despite their size and strength, found themselves outmaneuvered by the disciplined Orcs. Every charge was met with a wall of shields, every swing of their clubs deflected or absorbed. The Orcs'' spear thrusts became sharper, targeting weak points with growing precision. Yet, Volk did not allow his horde to finish the fight. Whenever it seemed like they could deliver a decisive blow, he ordered them to retreat, to reform, to advance again. The cycle repeated, grinding down the Ogres both physically and mentally. The Ogres, for all their brute strength, were not clever creatures. Their frustration grew with each failed attack, their roars turning to desperate bellows. They could not comprehend the strategy unfolding before them. They were strong, yes, but strength alone was not enough against an enemy that refused to falter. Hours passed, and the battlefield became a war of attrition. The Orcs, though tired, moved with increasing precision. Their shields locked together like an impenetrable fortress, their spear thrusts sharp and deadly. The Ogres, on the other hand, were stumbling, their massive forms sluggish and weary. Finally, one of the Ogres, its massive body sagging with exhaustion, raised its hands in a gesture that seemed almost human. "We¡­ give up!" it bellowed, its voice cracking with desperation. "No more fight! We¡­ done!" The Orcs paused, their weapons still at the ready, unsure how to react. Their eyes flicked to Volk, who stood at the back of the line, his expression unreadable. A faint smirk crossed his lips as he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "Well, well, well" he said. "It seems even beasts can learn to surrender." The battlefield was quiet, save for the shallow, ragged breaths of the battered Ogres. Their hulking forms sagged under the weight of exhaustion, their bloodied fists dragging against the dirt. Across from them, the Orcs stood in formation, shields locked and spears held high. They were tired, too, but their discipline remained unbroken. Victory hung heavy in the air, yet no one moved to claim it. Volk broke the silence, stepping forward from his position at the back of the line. His imposing figure cut a stark contrast against the fading light of the forest. His golden eyes scanned the defeated Ogres, their massive forms slumped like discarded mountains. "You said you surrender," Volk began, his voice low and deliberate. "What do you mean by that?" Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Ogres exchanged uncertain glances, their large, dirt-encrusted faces contorted in confusion. Their dull minds couldn''t form a cohesive answer. They looked to each other for guidance, but none came. Finally, one Ogre muttered, "We¡­ no fight no more." Volk tilted his head. "And what do you plan to do now?" The Ogres blinked, as if the question was entirely foreign to them. "We¡­ no know," another mumbled, scratching its head with a hand large enough to crush a boulder. Volk''s lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes betrayed none of his thoughts. "I see. Then perhaps I''ll give you an option." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Would you like to join my horde?" The silence that followed was deafening. The Ogres didn''t react immediately, their sluggish minds processing the proposition at a glacial pace. However, the reaction among the Orcs was immediate and explosive. "What?!" one of them bellowed, his voice tinged with disbelief. He turned to Volk, his eyes wide with fury. "Warchief, you can''t be serious! Ogres? In our horde?" Another Orc stepped forward, shaking his head vehemently. "They''re brainless, Warchief! They eat their own children! They''ll eat us if they get hungry enough!" A chorus of agreement erupted among the Orcs, their voices overlapping in a chaotic din. "They''re beasts, not warriors!" "They can''t even hold a spear properly!" "They''ll mistake us for food in the middle of the night!" "We should kill them now before they turn on us!" The anger and frustration in their voices were palpable, and for a moment, it seemed like the discipline Volk had instilled in them was unraveling. The Orcs were no strangers to violence or hardship, but the idea of inviting their lifelong enemies into their ranks was too much for many to bear. Volk let the uproar continue for a moment, his sharp eyes sweeping over his warriors. Then, with a single, commanding gesture, he raised his hand. "Silence!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. The Orcs fell quiet, though their discontent was still written plainly across their faces. "You doubt my decision?" Volk said, his tone cold and unyielding. He stepped forward, his presence like a storm rolling over the battlefield. "Do you think I make this choice lightly? Do you think I don''t know what these creatures are?" He gestured toward the Ogres, who remained slumped and silent, their confusion palpable. "Yes, they''re beasts. Yes, they''ve eaten their own. But they''re strong. Stronger than any of you. And if I can bend that strength to my will, then our horde will become unstoppable." The Orcs shifted uncomfortably, their earlier confidence replaced by a mix of uncertainty and fear. Volk''s words were undeniable, but the thought of sharing their ranks with Ogres still made their blood run cold. "Trust me," Volk continued, his voice softer now but no less commanding. "Have I ever led you astray? Did I not guide you to victory time and time again? You''ve seen what discipline and strength can achieve. These Ogres will be no different. I''ll mold them as I''ve molded you." The Orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their resistance slowly crumbling under the weight of Volk''s authority. Reluctantly, they nodded, though their expressions remained wary. Chapter 256 Rewards Volk turned back to the Ogres, who had been listening in silence, their simple minds unable to grasp the full weight of what was happening."You want to join my horde?" he asked again, his golden eyes locking onto theirs. The Ogres nodded slowly, their massive heads bobbing like mountains shifting in the wind. Volk narrowed his eyes. "I''m not convinced." He stepped closer, his presence looming over them like a predator stalking its prey. "If you''re serious, then prove it. Are you willing to work? To follow my commands without question?" The Ogres hesitated, their faces scrunching up in concentration. Finally, they nodded again, their movements clumsy but deliberate. "Good," Volk said. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of small, metallic objects. They gleamed faintly in the fading light, their surfaces etched with strange, glowing runes. Without a word, Volk tossed them toward the Ogres. The objects landed with a dull clink in the dirt. The Ogres stared at them, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease. "Put them on," Volk commanded, his voice brooking no argument. Slowly, the Ogres picked up the objects, examining them with their massive, calloused hands. They were shackles, designed to fit around their necks, wrists, and ankles. The Ogres hesitated, but under Volk''s piercing gaze, they began to put them on. The moment the shackles clicked into place, the air around them shifted. A faint, invisible force rippled through the clearing, sending a shiver down the spines of everyone present. The runes on the shackles flared to life, glowing with an eerie, pulsating light. The Ogres'' eyes widened as the energy coursed through their bodies, their massive frames trembling as the phenomenon took hold. The transformation was subtle at first. The Ogres'' slumped postures straightened, their shoulders squaring as if a great weight had been lifted from them. Their breathing steadied, the labored wheezing replaced by deep, powerful inhalations. Their eyes, once dull and unfocused, began to gleam with a newfound clarity. Then, as if driven by some primal instinct, the Ogres stood tall, their massive forms casting long shadows over the clearing. They threw their heads back and released a thunderous roar, the sound reverberating through the forest like an earthquake. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It was a sound of defiance, of renewal, of power reborn. The Orcs watched in stunned silence, their earlier doubts momentarily forgotten. The Ogres, now brimming with energy, looked stronger, more menacing than ever before. Yet there was something different about them¡ªa sense of control, of discipline, that had been absent before. Volk crossed his arms, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Now," he said, his voice cutting through the lingering echoes of the roar, "let''s see what you''re truly capable of." Volk''s eyes flickered to the glowing system message that hovered just above his line of sight. The words floated in golden clarity, as if etched into the fabric of the air itself: Mission! The host, or the Warchief, was an Orc and an Ogre. The horde would be incomplete without an Ogre. Mission A: Defeat all the Ogres around. Your adventure continues at empire Mission B: Enslave all the Ogres. Mission C: Kill all the Ogres. Failure: Loss of Horde authority and power-up. The host has taken Mission A and Mission B: Enslave all the Ogres. Status: Completed. Rewards: Shackles of Ogres - Controls the Ogres and shares their magical resistance against magic and hazardous spells with the entire horde. Volk''s golden eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the information. His gaze dropped to the shackles now adorning the Ogres, their runes still faintly glowing with latent energy. The chains attached to the shackles dangled loosely, their ends severed, leaving the Ogres free to move. And yet, the effect was undeniable. These were no longer the unbridled beasts of chaos that had charged recklessly into battle. These were creatures bound by a higher authority¡ªhis authority. Volk allowed a small, satisfied smile to creep across his face. "Alright," he muttered under his breath, turning his attention to the Ogres. "Let''s see what you can do." Volk stepped forward, his voice booming across the clearing. "Ogres!" he barked, his tone sharp and commanding. The newly shackled beasts flinched slightly at the sound, their massive heads turning toward him in unison. "Line up!" There was a moment of hesitation as the Ogres exchanged confused glances, their simple minds struggling to process the order. But then, almost instinctively, they began to shuffle into a rough line. Their movements were clumsy at first, their massive bodies bumping into one another as they tried to find their places. "Straighten up!" Volk snapped, his voice laced with irritation. "Shoulders back! Feet apart! Stand tall!" The Ogres obeyed, their postures improving with each barked command. They stood as best as their hulking forms allowed, their broad shoulders squared and their massive feet planted firmly on the ground. The sight of the towering creatures standing in organized formation sent a ripple of astonishment through the Orcs. "By the gods," one of the Orcs muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They''re actually listening." Another Orc nodded, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I''ve never seen an Ogre take an order in my life. And now¡­ this?" Volk ignored their murmurs, his focus entirely on the Ogres. "Good," he said, his tone softening slightly. "Now, we''re going to do some drills. Follow my instructions exactly, or there will be consequences. Understood?" The Ogres grunted their assent, their deep voices rumbling like distant thunder. "First," Volk began, "raise your arms. Both of them. As high as they''ll go." The Ogres complied, their massive arms lifting skyward. Their movements were slow and deliberate, their muscles straining as they extended their limbs. The sight was almost comical¡ªgiant, lumbering creatures awkwardly reaching for the sky like children trying to touch the clouds. "Good. Now lower them. Slowly!" Volk barked. The Ogres did as they were told, their arms descending with surprising control. The ground seemed to tremble slightly under the weight of their movements, but they managed to avoid any catastrophic collisions. "Now squat!" Volk commanded. The Ogres hesitated, their faces scrunching up in confusion. "Squat¡­ what?" one of them rumbled, its voice slow and gravelly. "Bend your knees and lower your body!" Volk snapped impatiently. "Like this!" He demonstrated the movement himself, his powerful frame sinking into a low squat. The Ogres attempted to mimic him, their massive bodies lowering awkwardly toward the ground. One of them nearly lost its balance, its enormous arms flailing wildly as it struggled to steady itself. "Keep your weight centered!" Volk shouted. "Don''t just drop like a sack of rocks!" The Ogres adjusted, their movements becoming slightly more controlled. By the time they managed a proper squat, sweat was already dripping from their foreheads. The Orcs watched the spectacle with a mix of awe and amusement. "They''re actually doing it," one of them said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I never thought I''d see the day." "They look ridiculous," another Orc muttered, though there was a hint of admiration in his tone. "Ridiculous or not," a third Orc chimed in, "they''re learning. And fast." Volk''s voice cut through their murmurs. "Enough chatter!" he barked, his gaze snapping to the Orcs. "Pay attention! This is as much for you as it is for them. Watch how discipline transforms even the most chaotic beings." Turning back to the Ogres, Volk continued the drill. "Now, run in place! Knees high! Don''t stop until I say so!" The Ogres groaned in protest but obeyed, their massive legs pumping up and down. The ground shook beneath them, their heavy footsteps creating a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that echoed through the clearing. "Higher!" Volk shouted, his voice like a whip crack. "I said knees high! Don''t slack off!" The Ogres pushed themselves harder, their knees rising to nearly chest height. Their breaths came in loud, ragged gasps, but they didn''t stop. "Now forward!" Volk commanded. "Charge to that tree and back! Full speed!" The Ogres lumbered forward, their massive bodies moving with surprising speed. They crashed through the underbrush like living battering rams, their movements clumsy but powerful. The Orcs couldn''t contain their amazement any longer. "They''re running¡­ like warriors," one of them said, his voice tinged with awe. "Not just warriors," another Orc added. "Like a disciplined unit. I don''t believe it." Volk allowed himself a small smirk as he watched the Ogres return, their breaths heaving but their movements more coordinated than before. "Good," he said. "Now again. Faster this time!" The Ogres groaned but obeyed, their determination growing with each command. They were learning, adapting, becoming something more than the mindless beasts they had been. Finally, after countless repetitions of squats, running, and various other drills, Volk raised his hand. "Enough," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. The Ogres collapsed to the ground, their massive bodies heaving with exhaustion. And yet, there was a glimmer of pride in their eyes, a sense of accomplishment that hadn''t been there before. Volk turned to the Orcs, his expression stern. "You see now what discipline can achieve. These Ogres were nothing but wild animals a day ago. And now? They''re becoming soldiers. Warriors. Members of this horde." The Orcs nodded reluctantly, their earlier skepticism giving way to begrudging respect. As Volk looked back at the Ogres, the faint glow of the runes on their shackles caught his eye. There was a sudden ripple in the air, a subtle but undeniable shift in the energy around them. The shackles seemed to pulse faintly, their light growing brighter for just a moment. Then, as if triggered by some unseen force, the Ogres stood up. Their exhaustion seemed to vanish, replaced by an almost supernatural vitality. They threw their heads back and released a deafening roar, their voices shaking the very earth beneath them. Volk smirked, they were going to die if this continued, so with his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Now," he said, his voice cutting through the roar like a blade, "let''s rest for now." Chapter 257 Comfortable scent The Orcs lounged around the makeshift camp, their armor clinking softly as they settled into a moment of well-earned rest.The earlier battles with the Ogres had left them physically tired but emotionally charged. As the crackle of the fire cast flickering shadows across the clearing, groups of Orcs began to chatter amongst themselves, their voices filled with a mix of awe, humor, and camaraderie. "I still can''t believe it," one burly Orc said, running a hand across his sweat-slicked brow. His voice carried a hint of amazement. "We fought those giants. And not only did we survive, we won. You saw how huge they were, right? Like mountains with arms." Another Orc, younger and leaner, laughed as he poked at a stick in the fire. "Aye, I saw you freeze up when one swung that club at you. Thought you were gonna piss yourself!" "Shut it!" the first Orc barked, but his grin betrayed his words. "You weren''t much better, you know. Scrambling around like a headless chicken when Volk yelled at you to hold the line." The younger Orc chuckled, shaking his head. "You''re right. I didn''t think we''d make it through that first charge. But when Volk shouted that command¡ª''Hold the defense!''¡ªit was like my body just moved. Didn''t even think about it. Just raised my shield and hoped for the best." Another cluster of Orcs leaned against a fallen tree, their conversation quieter but no less lively. "Did you see those Ogres?" one of them murmured, his voice low as though speaking the word ''Ogre'' might summon one from the darkness. "The way they moved¡­ It wasn''t like before. They were smarter, more coordinated." "Smarter?" another Orc scoffed. "They''re still brutes, even if Volk got ''em in line. Did you see that big one stumble when Volk made him squat? Funniest thing I''ve seen all day." "Funny, sure," the first Orc replied, his tone more contemplative. "But did you notice how they didn''t give up? They kept going, even when it was clear they were outmatched. Almost makes me respect the bastards." A few Orcs near the edge of the group exchanged quieter, more personal reflections. "I thought I was dead," one of them admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "When that Ogre swung its fist at me¡­ I froze. Just stood there. If Volk hadn''t yelled at me to duck¡­" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Same here," another Orc said, his tone somber. "I''ve fought plenty of battles, but nothing like this. Those things could crush us with a single blow. And yet¡­ we''re still here. Still standing." "Because of Volk," a third Orc interjected firmly. "He''s different. He doesn''t just fight; he commands. Makes you believe you can do the impossible." The others nodded in agreement, their expressions a mix of gratitude and awe. Volk stood apart from the others, his piercing golden eyes scanning the camp. He could hear snippets of their conversations, their words a testament to the battles they had faced together. However, his attention was elsewhere¡ªfocused on the shimmering system interface that only he could see. Each Orc and Ogre in the camp was listed in neat, glowing text, their names, races, and levels displayed with crisp clarity. The Orcs, hardened warriors all, ranged in levels from 16 to 20. The Ogres, now shackled and bound to his command, were even more formidable, their levels hovering between 29 and 30. He studied the information with a critical eye. This wasn''t just a horde¡ªit was becoming a disciplined army, each member a piece in a larger, more intricate puzzle. The sound of heavy footsteps broke his concentration. Discover stories with empire Volk turned to see one of the Ogres approaching, its massive form looming over him. The shackle around its neck clinked softly with each step, the severed chains swaying with its movements. "Warchief," the Ogre rumbled, its voice deep and guttural. "Why¡­ you smell like Ogre? You¡­ an Orc." The question hung in the air like a challenge. For a moment, the camp fell silent, every Orc and Ogre turning to look at Volk. Volk tilted his head, a sly smile playing at his lips. "My bloodline," he said simply, his voice calm and steady. "It''s not just Orc. It''s Ogre as well." The reaction was immediate. The Orcs erupted into murmurs, their voices a mixture of shock and disbelief. "What did he just say?" one Orc whispered, his eyes wide. "Ogre blood?" another muttered, shaking his head. "That can''t be right." "Is that why he''s so strong?" a third Orc speculated, his voice tinged with awe. "Because he''s part Ogre?" The Ogres, meanwhile, stared at Volk in stunned silence. Their simple minds struggled to process the revelation, but the impact was clear. For the first time, they looked at him not just as a leader but as something more¡ªa kindred spirit, perhaps even a kin. Volk let the moment stretch, savoring the weight of their gazes. Then, an idea began to form in his mind. If he was destined to transform into his Radioactive form in the future, why not begin planting the seeds of loyalty and awe now? Clearing his throat, Volk raised his voice so that all could hear. "Listen up!" he called, his tone commanding yet inviting. "I can see the questions in your eyes. The doubts. The curiosity. You want to know more, don''t you?" The Orcs and Ogres nodded, their attention fully on him now. "Then sit down," Volk said, gesturing for them to gather closer. "I''ll tell you a story." There was a moment of hesitation before the horde began to move, their curiosity overriding their weariness. They settled around him in a rough semicircle, their eyes fixed on their Warchief. Volk waited until the last of them was seated, then took a deep breath, letting the silence build. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and deliberate, drawing them in like a flame draws moths. "Alright," he said, his golden eyes glinting in the firelight. "Listen closely. This is a story you won''t want to miss." The camp fell into an expectant hush, every face turned toward Volk, their anticipation palpable. The distant group of Orcs, lounging against the far side of the campfire, let out a chorus of chuckles. Their laughter was guttural and coarse, a sharp contrast to the hushed atmosphere surrounding Volk. "Oi, what''s all this about a story, eh?" one of them called, his voice dripping with mockery. "Didn''t know we were at a bedtime camp, eh boys?" Another Orc from the same group smirked, leaning forward with exaggerated curiosity. "Maybe the Warchief''s got a fairy tale for us. You think it''s about Orcs finding golden treasure?" The group burst into laughter again, their voices echoing across the clearing. The Orcs from Volk''s side bristled. One of them, a tall warrior with a prominent scar across his jaw, rose to his feet. "Shut your filthy mouths!" he bellowed, his deep voice cutting through the laughter. "The Warchief''s about to speak!" sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Another Orc stood up beside him, pointing a finger toward the other group. "You think this is funny? You want to mock him? Go ahead and see what happens when Volk hears it!" The laughing Orcs exchanged wary glances, their chuckles fading into uneasy murmurs. They may have been bold, but they weren''t foolish enough to push their luck. One by one, they quieted, leaving the camp in a tense silence. Satisfied, the Orcs loyal to Volk turned back toward their Warchief, nodding in deference. Chapter 258 Story telling Volk''s golden eyes swept over the gathered crowd, his presence commanding every ounce of their attention. He waited a moment, letting the silence deepen, before speaking."Do you believe," Volk began, his voice low and measured, "that an Orc can become an Ogre? That an Orc and an Ogre can be one?" The question hung in the air like a thundercloud, drawing confused murmurs from both sides of the horde. "That''s ridiculous," one Orc muttered, shaking his head. "How could an Orc become an Ogre?" "It''s impossible," another said, his brow furrowed. "We''re strong, but we''re nothing like those giants. They''re¡­ different." An Ogre grunted, its voice a low rumble. "Ogre¡­ born Ogre. Orc¡­ born Orc. No same." Another Ogre nodded slowly, scratching its head. "Ogre big. Ogre strong. Orc¡­ not same strong." One of the Orcs stood, clenching his fists. "And what would we even gain from it? Ogres are stupid. They can''t think for themselves. I''d rather stay an Orc than be one of them!" The arguments continued to flow like a river, each voice adding to the growing cacophony of disbelief. "Ogres don''t fight like us," an older Orc said, his tone dismissive. "They swing their clubs around without thinking. Orcs are warriors. We fight with purpose." "Have you seen how they eat?" another Orc scoffed, his lip curling in disgust. "They''d swallow a rock if they thought it tasted good. No Orc would stoop to that." "They''re beasts," an Ogre grunted, surprisingly agreeing with the Orcs. "Not like us. We¡­ warriors. Orcs¡­ warriors too. No same beast." Volk allowed the conversation to continue, his sharp gaze observing every word, every gesture. Finally, when the voices began to wane, he raised his hand, silencing them with a single motion. "You''re all wrong," Volk said, his voice cutting through the night like a blade. "Orcs can become Ogres. In fact, Ogres were once Orcs." The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Volk''s words sinking into the minds of his audience. "That''s a lie!" an Orc shouted, his voice trembling with anger. "We''re nothing like them! How could that be true?" "Let me tell you why," Volk said, his tone steady. "It''s because of the Warlocks. They turned Orcs into Ogres. They took our people¡ªour brothers, our sisters¡ªand twisted them into mindless beasts of war. They stripped them of their identity and made them into weapons." A wave of fury rippled through the horde. "Warlocks?" an Orc spat, his face contorted with rage. Volk would reply and say yes, "they were somehow related to mages." The Orc would be angry, "Like those cursed magic-wielding cowards!? They think they can turn us into slaves?" Your journey continues at empire "Never!" another Orc roared, pounding his chest with a clenched fist. "We''re warriors, not tools for their schemes!" An Ogre growled, its massive hands clenched into fists. "Ogre¡­ not slave. Ogre fight¡­ for self. Not Warlock." The cries of defiance grew louder, the horde''s anger uniting them in a shared hatred for their unseen enemies. "They think we''re weak," an Orc shouted, his voice rising above the din. "But we''re not! We''re Orcs! We fight for ourselves, not for anyone else!" "And Ogres," another added, his gaze shifting toward their massive allies, "you''re part of this too. They used you, just like they tried to use us. But we''re not their pawns!" Volk raised his hand again, and the horde fell silent, their eyes fixed on him with a newfound intensity. "But what if," Volk said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "you don''t have a choice?" The question lingered, heavy with implication. The horde stared at him, their fury tempered by a flicker of uncertainty. "What if they take everything from you?" Volk continued, his golden eyes scanning the crowd. "Your freedom. Your will. What if they make you fight against your own kin, and you can''t stop them?" The weight of his words settled over the horde, their expressions shifting from anger to something darker¡ªfear. For the first time, they began to understand the true horror of what Volk was describing. Volk stood tall, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features. His golden eyes gleamed with a fiery intensity, and his voice lowered to a grim tone, making every Orc and Ogre present lean in closer. "They wouldn''t stop," Volk said slowly, letting the words sink in. "The Warlocks¡­ they wouldn''t just stop at turning our kind into monsters. No. They would take the weakest among us, those too broken to resist, and slaughter them like cattle. And then, they would force the strong ones, the Ogres, to reproduce. Breeding them like livestock." The crowd of Orcs and Ogres collectively froze, disbelief flashing across their faces. "But that''s not all," Volk continued, his voice sharpening like a blade. "They would weave spells into the very souls of those newborns. Spells that stripped them of their freedom, their identity. Spells that made them nothing but loyal dogs to the Warlocks. Mindless weapons to be used in their wars." The Orcs erupted. "WHAT?" one of them roared, his voice echoing through the forest like thunder. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Those cursed Warlocks! How dare they?!" "They breed us like pigs?!" another shouted, slamming his axe into the ground. "We''re not animals! We''re warriors!" "They want to strip our souls away?" an older Orc growled, his weathered face contorted with rage. "I''d rather die a thousand deaths than let them take my spirit!" Even the Ogres, typically slow to react, growled deeply, their massive hands curling into fists. "Warlock¡­ bad," one Ogre rumbled, his voice shaking with anger. "Ogre¡­ not dog. Ogre¡­ warrior!" "Ogre fight¡­ not breed!" another bellowed, his heavy foot stomping into the ground with enough force to crack the earth beneath him. "Ogre¡­ no slave!" The rage of the horde swelled like a tidal wave, each voice adding to the chorus of fury. "Curse the Warlocks!" "Kill them all!" "They''ll pay for what they''ve done to us!" Volk let the anger simmer for a moment, watching as the fury united Orcs and Ogres alike. Then, he raised his hand, commanding silence once more. "And that," Volk said, his voice cutting through the din like a whip, "is why they feared us. They didn''t fear our strength. They feared our spirit. They feared the very thing they tried to break." The crowd fell silent, their eyes locked on Volk as he continued. "But the Warlocks underestimated us. They underestimated the spirit of the Orcs. Because even as they twisted and broke us, as they turned us into Ogres and shackled us to their will, they couldn''t destroy the fire inside us. They couldn''t destroy our essence. And do you know what happened then?" One of the younger Orcs, wide-eyed and trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation, dared to ask, "What¡­ what happened?" Volk''s lips curled into a grim smile. "Our ancestors, the ones they twisted into Ogres, escaped." S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The reaction was immediate. "They escaped?" an Orc exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief. "They broke free of the Warlocks'' chains?" another asked, his eyes lighting up with hope. "Did they kill the Warlocks?" an Ogre bellowed, his massive hands trembling with barely contained excitement. "Did they have their revenge?" "Did they destroy those cursed spellcasters?!" The questions came in rapid succession, the Orcs and Ogres leaning forward eagerly, their anger now tempered with a burning curiosity. "How did they escape?" "Did they fight their way out?" "Did they burn the Warlocks'' towers to the ground?" "Tell us!" Volk raised his hand again, and the camp fell silent once more. The anticipation was palpable, every pair of eyes fixed on him, every ear straining to catch his next words. "The ancestors," Volk said, his voice steady and deliberate, "escaped because the Warlocks underestimated their spirit. The Orcs who became Ogres may have been twisted in body, but their will was unbroken. And it was that unbroken will that led them to freedom." He let the words hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the horde. "And yes," Volk added, his eyes narrowing, "they fought back. They turned on their masters. They struck fear into the hearts of the Warlocks, showing them that no magic, no chain, no curse could ever truly break an Orc¡ªor an Ogre." The crowd erupted once more, their voices a thunderous roar of approval and anger. "That''s right!" "They thought they could break us, but they were wrong!" "Warlocks beware! We''re coming for you!" Even the Ogres joined in, their guttural voices adding a deeper resonance to the chorus of defiance. "Ogre¡­ fight back!" "Ogre¡­ no slave! Ogre¡­ warrior!" Volk watched them, his expression unreadable. But deep down, he felt a spark of satisfaction. The seed he had planted was taking root, and the horde was beginning to see the truth of his words. Now, it was only a matter of time before they were ready to face the real enemy. Chapter 259 New purpose Volk''s face darkened, and his voice lowered to a grim tone that sent shivers through the gathered crowd."However¡­" he began, his voice slow and deliberate, drawing their full attention, "they lost." The Orcs froze, their expressions twisting from anger into disbelief and fear. "Lost?" one Orc whispered, his voice barely audible, as if speaking the word might make it real. "They lost?" another repeated, his hands gripping his weapon tightly. "How could they lose?!" "That can''t be!" an older Orc growled, his face pale despite his hardened features. "Our ancestors were the strongest warriors! How could they lose?" The Ogres were slower to react, but even they exchanged uneasy glances, their growls fading into a tense silence. "No¡­ no lose," one Ogre muttered, shaking his massive head. "Ogre¡­ no lose." The murmurs grew louder, panic creeping into the voices of the horde. "They lost? Then what chance do we have?" "If even they couldn''t win, how can we fight against the Warlocks?" "Does this mean¡­ we''re doomed?" A younger Orc clutched at his chest, his breaths coming fast. "They killed them all? Every one of them?" "What kind of power could defeat an entire army of Ogres and Orcs?" The fear was palpable now, spreading like wildfire through the horde. Volk let it simmer for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the panicked faces. Then, just as the tension reached its peak, he spoke again. "But before they fell¡­" Volk''s voice cut through the chaos like a blade, silencing the crowd instantly. "Before their defeat, they made one final, desperate act of defiance." S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Orcs and Ogres stared at him, their fear giving way to a tense anticipation. "They sent their children away," Volk continued, his voice steady and deliberate. "Down to the lower realms, to a place where they could grow stronger, free from the Warlocks'' grasp. A place where they could one day return¡­ to have their revenge." "Children?" an Orc blurted out, his eyes wide with shock. "Lower realms?" another asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What does that mean?" a third demanded. "What lower realm?" Volk turned to face the horde fully, his golden eyes glowing with a fierce intensity. "This realm," he said, his voice firm. "Orzaroth. The very ground you stand on. It is the lower realm. And you¡­ all of you¡­ are their descendants." The Orcs gasped, their jaws dropping as they exchanged incredulous looks. "This realm?!" one shouted. "We''re in the lower realm?!" Experience new stories with empire "They sent their children here¡­ and we''re their children?" "Does that mean we were meant to carry out their revenge?" The questions came in a flood, the horde struggling to process the revelation. "But why send us here? What''s so special about this place?" "What does it mean to be in a lower realm? Are we weaker than them?" "Why didn''t they just fight harder and win?" Volk raised his hand, silencing the clamor once more. His voice took on a calm, almost teaching tone as he explained. "The lower realm," Volk said, "is a plane of existence different from the higher realms where the Warlocks dwell. It is a place of lesser strength, lesser magic. "The creatures here are not as powerful as those above. But that is precisely why they sent you here. To grow, to learn, to forge your strength in a crucible far from the Warlocks'' reach." The horde absorbed his words, their initial panic giving way to a cautious understanding. "So¡­ the lower realm is like training grounds?" one Orc asked, his voice tinged with hope. "But if this is the lower realm," another said, "does that mean there are higher realms? Realms where Orcs and Ogres are even stronger than us?" Volk nodded, a grim smile playing on his lips. "Yes," he confirmed. "The higher realms are places of unimaginable power. Realms where Orcs and Ogres like us live and fight at levels you can scarcely comprehend. "And one day, when you are ready, you will ascend to those realms. You will face the Warlocks and their forces. And you will fulfill the destiny your ancestors entrusted to you." The Orcs and Ogres exchanged glances, their fear replaced by a growing determination. "So, we''re not just here to survive," one said, his voice growing stronger. "We''re here to prepare. To become strong enough to face them." "To become warriors who can finish what our ancestors started," another added, gripping his weapon tightly. "To prove that the spirit of the Orcs and Ogres can never be broken," a third declared, his eyes blazing with resolve. Volk watched them, the spark of determination catching fire in their eyes. He nodded, satisfied. "Yes," he said. "But you must be ready. The path ahead will not be easy. The Warlocks are still out there, and they will not rest until they have destroyed everything we stand for. "But with strength, with unity, and with the unyielding spirit of our ancestors, we will rise. And we will show them what it means to be Orcs and Ogres." The Ogres erupted in cheers, their booming voices shaking the forest around them. Their excitement was raw and primal, each shout laced with years of pent-up frustration finally finding an outlet. "FIGHT!" one massive Ogre roared, raising his meaty fists high above his head. "NO LOSE! NEVER LOSE AGAIN!" Another slammed his enormous foot into the ground, causing the earth to quake. "WARLOCKS PAY! MAKE THEM FEEL OGRE FIST!" "REVENGE!" a third bellowed, his voice carrying across the clearing. "OGRES NO SLAVE! OGRES FREE!" The cheers grew louder and more chaotic, blending into a cacophony of anger and triumph. "SMASH THEM ALL!" "NO MORE CHAIN!" "WARLOCKS FEAR OGRES NOW!" "WE STRONG! WE WIN!" The Orcs, slightly more composed, began adding their voices to the mix. "For the ancestors!" "For the horde!" "Let them see our wrath!" An older Orc clapped his hands together, his voice shaking with emotion. "Finally¡­ finally, we have a purpose beyond just surviving!" A younger Orc jumped up and down, swinging his axe wildly in the air. "We''ll show them what Orcs and Ogres can do together!" The female Ogres joined in, their voices higher but no less fierce. "NO TAKE OGRE BABY AGAIN!" "FIGHT FOR FUTURE!" Even the usually stoic members of the horde found themselves swept up in the fervor. Volk watched with a faint smirk, letting the chaotic celebration run its course. But after a while, he raised a hand, his sharp eyes glinting. "Enough." The command sliced through the noise like a blade, and slowly, the horde quieted. The silence hung heavy for a moment before one Orc stepped forward, his brows furrowed. "Warchief," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Is that it? Is there¡­ more to the story?" All eyes turned to Volk, their faces filled with expectation. Volk let the question hang in the air, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he said, "Yes. There is more. Much more." The horde leaned in closer, their anticipation palpable. "Elves," Volk said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Elves?" several Orcs echoed, their confusion evident. "Yes," Volk continued, his tone calm but commanding. "Elves. They were our ancestors'' wives." Chapter 260 Rarity The reaction was instantaneous."WHAT?!" an Orc shouted, his jaw practically hitting the ground. "Elves?!" a female Orc gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Those dainty, skinny things?!" "No way!" another Orc yelled, shaking his head violently. "That can''t be right! Warchief, are you joking?!" The Ogres, slower to process the information, tilted their heads in confusion. "ELVES¡­ WIVES?" one rumbled, scratching his head. Find exclusive stories on empire "SKINNY PEOPLE?" another asked, his massive brow furrowed. The female Ogres snorted, their reactions ranging from disbelief to outright disgust. "NO WANT SKINNY WIFE!" one declared, folding her massive arms. "OGRE NO NEED POINTY-EAR WOMAN!" another added, her nose wrinkling. The Orcs continued to mutter among themselves, their reactions varied and chaotic. "But how? Elves and Orcs are so¡­ different!" "I thought elves hated us!" "Does that mean we have elf blood in us?!" "Eww, I don''t want elf blood!" "Wait, does that mean the Ogres do too?!" The female Orcs, in particular, seemed to take the news personally. "Are you telling me our ancestors couldn''t find proper Orc women?" one demanded, her hands on her hips. "They had to go for elves?" "Why would anyone choose an elf over an Orc?!" another snapped, glaring at the male Orcs as if the decision had been theirs personally. A younger female Orc crossed her arms, pouting. "I don''t care if they''re our ancestors; they had bad taste." The male Orcs, meanwhile, were equally split. "Maybe it makes sense," one mused. "Elves are magical, right? Maybe they made our ancestors stronger." "Stronger? Or weaker?" another countered, his voice skeptical. "Look at us. We''re nothing like elves!" "Do you think elves would still marry Orcs now?" one young Orc asked, his face red. "Shut up!" an older Orc barked, smacking him on the back of the head. "Don''t embarrass yourself!" Volk raised his hand again, silencing the uproar. His golden eyes glinted as he surveyed the horde, their shocked and outraged faces reflecting their inner turmoil. "I understand your reactions," Volk said, his voice calm yet firm. "But this is the truth. The elves were not just our ancestors'' wives¡ªthey were their partners in battle. "Their strength and magic combined with the raw power of Orcs and Ogres. Together, they were unstoppable. Together, they built a legacy we now carry." The horde fell into a tense silence, digesting his words. Even the most vocal dissenters seemed to reconsider, their expressions softening as they thought about the possibility. Finally, an older female Orc spoke, her voice steady. "If they fought with us¡­ if they shared our struggles¡­ then maybe they weren''t so bad." The Ogres grunted in agreement, their earlier skepticism fading. "SKINNY PEOPLE¡­ STRONG?" one mused, tilting his head. "IF FIGHT TOGETHER¡­ THEN OKAY," another rumbled. Volk smirked, satisfied with their reactions. "Good," he said. "Because this story isn''t over. And if you think this revelation was surprising, just wait until you hear what comes next." The horde leaned in closer, their curiosity reignited, as Volk prepared to continue. Volk took a deep breath, preparing to drop the next bombshell. The horde, leaning forward in rapt attention, was not prepared for what came next. "Whenever elves and Orcs mated," Volk began, his voice steady, "their offspring were¡­ unique." The crowd stiffened, hanging onto his every word. "If the child was male," Volk said, "it would be an Orc." There was a beat of silence. "And if the child was female," Volk continued, his voice cutting through the tension, "it would be an elf." The reaction was immediate and explosive. "WHAT?!" a younger Orc shouted, nearly dropping his weapon. "FEMALE ELF?!" an older Ogre roared, his voice shaking the trees. "THAT MAKE NO SENSE!" another bellowed, pounding his fist into the ground. But none reacted more intensely than the female Orcs. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" one screamed, her eyes blazing with fury. "MALE ORCS ONLY?!" another snapped, shoving the male Orc nearest to her. "This is outrageous!" one snarled, stomping her foot with enough force to crack the ground beneath her. "Do you mean to tell me that our ancestors¡ªOUR ancestors¡ªfavored elves over us?!" The chaos was absolute. "I don''t believe it!" S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "This is ridiculous!" "Elves stealing our men?! Our legacy?!" "Warchief, are you sure this isn''t some lie made up by the Warlocks to mess with us?" "WHY ONLY MALE?!" a female Orc yelled, stepping forward to glare at Volk. "ARE WE NOT GOOD ENOUGH?!" Another growled low in her throat. "Our ancestors were fools! Elves couldn''t survive without magic, and yet they''re considered better than us?" "They probably didn''t have a choice," one male Orc muttered, shrinking back under the glares of the females around him. "Don''t make excuses!" a particularly burly female snarled, jabbing a finger at him. "They should have fought harder!" The male Orcs, meanwhile, looked caught between confusion and fear, trying not to meet the seething glares of their female counterparts. "I-I mean¡­ maybe it wasn''t so bad?" one stammered, his voice faltering. "The elves did help us¡ª" "HELP?!" a female barked, cutting him off. "Do you think birthing their skinny daughters was helping us?! We''re the backbone of this horde!" Another male Orc timidly raised a hand. "But Warchief, if the males were Orcs, didn''t that mean the elves contributed something useful?" This only earned him a smack upside the head from a nearby female. "You''re lucky we don''t contribute your skull to the pile, you idiot!" Even the Ogres were getting riled up. "SKINNY GIRL BETTER THAN ORC WOMAN?" one grunted, looking genuinely perplexed. "NO MAKE SENSE!" another agreed, crossing his massive arms. "ORC WOMAN STRONG. WHY CHOOSE SKINNY GIRL?" A female Ogre snorted. "SKINNY GIRL USELESS. NO CARRY CLUB, NO SMASH ENEMY." "SKINNY GIRL NO COOK GOOD FOOD!" another added, glaring at the male Ogres as if they personally had made the decision. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a blade, and Volk could see that the female Orcs'' jealousy was reaching a dangerous boiling point. He raised a hand to calm the storm, his golden eyes scanning the furious crowd. "ENOUGH!" Volk''s voice thundered, silencing the chaos instantly. The horde turned to him, their faces still twisted with anger and frustration. "Listen to me," Volk said, his tone firm but calm. "I understand your anger. I understand your frustration. But let me remind you of something." He gestured to the female Orcs, his gaze sweeping across them. "You are rare. You are strong. You are irreplaceable." The female Orcs blinked, their anger momentarily giving way to confusion. Volk continued, his voice softer now but no less commanding. "The elves may have been our ancestors'' wives, but look around you. Who stands by your side now? Who fights with you? Who bleeds with you?" He pointed at the male Orcs. "It''s them. Your brothers. Your mates. Your comrades." He shifted his gaze to the male Orcs, his expression hardening. "And you¡ªtreasure these women. They are the lifeblood of our horde. Without them, we are nothing. They are warriors, just like you, and they deserve your respect." The male Orcs nodded quickly, their expressions sheepish but determined. "Yes, Warchief!" "They''re strong, Warchief!" "We''ll treat them better!" The female Orcs softened slightly, their pride bolstered by Volk''s words, though a few still muttered under their breath. Satisfied, Volk took a step back. "Good. Now that we''ve cleared that up, we don''t have much to discuss anymore." The horde, though still buzzing with residual energy, fell silent, so it ends here huh? Chapter 261 March The human knights marched in unison, their polished armor reflecting the dim light of the setting sun.Their boots pounded the dirt road in rhythmic unison, CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!, a sound that sent shivers down the spines of any who might dare to oppose them. The air was thick with tension, and the distant cries of crows circling above only heightened the ominous atmosphere. At the forefront of the column, mounted on a massive, scaled magical lizard that hissed and snapped at anything too close, was the infamous Gerhardt, the old mage. His mage''s uniform, adorned with golden threads and arcane runes, shimmered faintly with magical energy. His face, lined with age but alight with fervor, scanned the horizon with a gaze that promised no mercy. Suddenly, Gerhardt''s booming voice erupted across the battlefield, a sound so powerful it seemed to rattle the very trees nearby. "KNIGHTS! FORM YOUR RANKS!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the clamor of armor and marching feet. "THE FILTHY ORCS ARE NEAR! READY YOUR WEAPONS!" The soldiers immediately obeyed, the sound of swords unsheathing and spears being readied filling the air like a chorus of steel. Shields clanked as they were raised, forming an impenetrable wall of gleaming metal. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "REMEMBER WHY WE MARCH!" Gerhardt roared, his magical lizard rearing back and letting out a bone-chilling screech. The soldiers flinched but held their ground. "THESE SAVAGES TOOK OUR LAND!" he continued, his voice rising with each word. "THEY SLAUGHTERED BARON GEISLER, OUR BELOVED RULER, IN COLD BLOOD! WILL WE STAND BY AND ALLOW SUCH AN INSULT TO OUR HONOR?" "NO!" the knights shouted in unison, their voices thunderous and resolute. Gerhardt raised his staff, its tip crackling with raw magical energy. The light illuminated his weathered face, making him look more like a wrathful god than a man. "THEN LET US SHOW THESE VERMIN THE POWER OF CIVILIZATION! LET THEM SEE THE WRATH OF THE BARON''S AVENGERS!" The knights cheered, their cries echoing across the land like the roar of an unstoppable storm. The mage''s fiery words had lit a flame in their hearts, turning their fear into righteous fury. The army''s banners, depicting the Baron''s coat of arms, fluttered violently in the wind. The crimson and gold symbols stood out against the darkening sky, a beacon of vengeance and power. Five hundred strong, the knights marched onward, their formation perfect, their discipline unwavering. "ARCHERS!" Gerhardt bellowed, his sharp eyes darting to a unit of bowmen riding behind the main force. "READY YOUR ARROWS! IF THE ORCS COME CLOSE, WE WILL RAIN HELL UPON THEM!" The archers, clad in lighter armor, quickly nocked arrows tipped with glimmering steel. Their bows creaked under the strain, their faces set with grim determination. Gerhardt''s voice dropped slightly, but the menace in it only grew. "Let no one falter," he hissed, his tone colder than the autumn wind. "We march not just to kill, but to cleanse. These beasts do not deserve the breath in their lungs. They are a blight on this world. And we," he paused, pointing his glowing staff toward the horizon, "are the cure!" The knights roared again, their voices filled with bloodlust and resolve. The ground beneath them seemed to tremble as the column pressed forward. The weight of five hundred armored men, each step a declaration of vengeance, was enough to intimidate even the most stalwart of foes. "BE READY!" Gerhardt shouted again, his staff pulsing with energy. "THESE ORCS WILL TRY TO AMBUSH US, LIKE THE COWARDS THEY ARE! BUT WE SHALL BE READY FOR THEM!" "YES, GRANDMASTER!" the soldiers replied, their voices ringing with obedience and loyalty. The mage''s lizard hissed again, its glowing eyes scanning the surroundings. It seemed to sense the tension in the air, the inevitable clash of steel and blood that awaited them. "DO NOT FORGET YOUR TRAINING!" Gerhardt barked, his voice cutting through the ambient noise like a blade. "YOU ARE THE PRIDE OF THIS LAND, THE SHIELD OF OUR PEOPLE! LET NO ORC''S AXE PIERCE YOUR ARMOR! LET NO OGRE''S CLUB CRUSH YOUR SPIRIT!" "FOR THE BARON!" a knight shouted, and the cry was quickly taken up by the rest of the army. "FOR THE BARON!" "FOR OUR LAND!" "FOR HONOR AND GLORY!" As they advanced, the terrain grew darker, the thick trees casting ominous shadows across their path. Gerhardt, ever vigilant, raised a hand to slow the march. "HALT!" he commanded, his voice sharp and unwavering. The column stopped instantly, the silence broken only by the rustling of leaves and the faint hiss of the lizard beneath him. Gerhardt narrowed his eyes, scanning the darkness. His staff glowed brighter, casting eerie light across the trees. "KNIGHTS!" he called, his voice low but carrying. "This is no ordinary march. You are not fighting ordinary beasts. Keep your wits about you. Stay close to your brothers and sisters in arms. And remember¡ªthere is no greater glory than dying for our cause!" The soldiers nodded, their faces a mixture of fear and determination. The younger knights clutched their weapons tightly, their knuckles white. The veterans, though hardened, kept their gazes fixed on the horizon, knowing that death could come from any direction. The mage turned his attention back to the path ahead, his expression unreadable. "The Orcs think themselves clever," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "But their savagery will be their undoing. They will learn the true meaning of fear." And with that, the army continued its march, their footsteps pounding like a heartbeat of war, the air around them heavy with the promise of bloodshed. Suddenly, the steady march of the five hundred knights slowed as five distinct figures rode forward from the rear ranks, their magical beasts stirring awe and fear even among the hardened soldiers. Each mage, cloaked in robes of varying colors that shimmered with an arcane glow, approached Gerhardt. Their beasts were as strange and menacing as their masters: one rode a wingless wyvern with scales like molten lava; another a crystalline stag whose antlers pulsed with a soft blue light; the third sat atop a serpentine creature that seemed to swim through the air as though it were water; the fourth commanded a hulking, horned feline with glowing green eyes; and the last, a cloaked figure, rode a pitch-black arachnid that clattered menacingly with each step. The knights murmured among themselves as the mages approached. Their conversations were tinged with unease and respect. The presence of these individuals only underscored the gravity of the situation. Gerhardt, seated on his massive lizard mount, raised his staff high, its tip glowing brighter with each passing second. His voice rang out like thunder, cutting through the murmurs and silencing the crowd. "Mages!" he bellowed, addressing the five. "Step forward and hear my words. What lies ahead is no mere skirmish. This is no trivial exercise in spellcraft. "This is war. You stand on the precipice of history, and your actions will determine whether you rise as legends or fall as forgotten corpses. Stay updated with empire "Not just that, you are all fighting for humanity too! This is your chance to enhance your magic and use it in real time combat, you hear me! Be prepared!" The mages urged their beasts closer, their faces a mixture of youthful determination and quiet dread. Chapter 262 Enemies spotted The mage atop the wyvern, a young man with fiery red hair and a matching cloak, was the first to speak. "Master Gerhardt, we are ready. We''ve trained for this. We¡ª""Silence, boy!" Gerhardt snapped, his tone harsh and commanding. The young mage flinched, his wyvern letting out a low growl. "Do not presume to tell me what you are ready for. You have no idea what awaits you beyond that treeline." He gestured toward the dark forest ahead, where shadows danced ominously. Enjoy exclusive adventures from empire The crystalline stag rider, a woman with sharp features and silver hair, spoke up next. "We''ve studied the spells, Master Gerhardt. We''ve practiced the rituals. We¡ª" "Practice means nothing when faced with the chaos of battle!" Gerhardt interrupted again, his voice cutting through her words like a blade. "A thousand incantations will not save you if your hands tremble. A single misstep, a single moment of hesitation, and you will fall. And let me be clear: there will be no time to mourn you." The other mages exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence faltering under Gerhardt''s piercing gaze. The mage on the serpentine beast, a wiry man with sunken eyes, finally asked, "Then why bring us here if you doubt our abilities?" Gerhardt turned his attention to him, his expression dark and severe. "Because, apprentice, you will either prove your worth here or die trying. That is the way of the Order. No mage who has ever stood in this position has done so without earning it. "But earning it is not enough. Surviving this battle will determine whether you are worthy of the title of true mage." The youngest of the group, a girl barely out of her teens who rode the horned feline, spoke in a trembling voice. "Master Gerhardt... what if we¡ª" "What if you die?" Gerhardt finished for her, his voice cold. "Then you die with honor. But mark my words, if you falter, if you flee, if you betray the Order''s creed, your death will be neither honorable nor remembered. "The knights at your back would sooner cut you down themselves than allow such disgrace to fester in their ranks." The girl paled, her grip tightening on her reins. The cloaked figure on the spider, silent until now, finally spoke in a gravelly voice. "You speak of death as though it is inevitable, Master Gerhardt. Yet you brought us here knowing the risk. Are we truly so expendable?" Gerhardt''s eyes narrowed, his staff flaring with light. "Expendable? No. Crucial. You are the spear that will pierce the heart of the enemy. You are the fire that will burn their wretched forms to ash. "Without you, this army is vulnerable. With you, it is unstoppable. But only if you prove yourselves." He straightened in his saddle, his voice rising to address the entire army. "KNIGHTS! MAGES! HEAR ME!" The soldiers and mages alike turned their attention to him, the air thick with anticipation. "This is not just a battle! This is vengeance! This is justice! The filthy Orcs and their vile horde have taken from us what can never be replaced. "They have spilled noble blood, desecrated our lands, and spat upon our honor. Today, we make them pay. Today, we remind them why humanity rules this realm!" The knights cheered, their voices a deafening roar that shook the ground. The mages exchanged uncertain glances, but even they could not deny the surge of adrenaline coursing through them. Gerhardt turned back to the mages, his tone quieter but no less intense. "You may not survive this day. But if you do, you will emerge as true mages, worthy of the Order''s legacy. You will carry the pride of our people on your shoulders. You will be heroes." He leaned forward, his eyes burning with conviction. "But if you falter, if you fail, you will be nothing more than ashes in the wind. So I ask you now: Are you ready to sacrifice everything for glory?" The mages, their expressions a mixture of fear and determination, nodded. "Good," Gerhardt said, a cruel smile playing at his lips. He raised his staff high, its light piercing the gathering gloom. "THEN LET US SHOW THESE FILTHY ORCS THE TRUE MEANING OF POWER!" The knights erupted in cheers again, their cries echoing across the battlefield. The mages steeled themselves, their beasts growling and hissing in anticipation. The army moved forward, the weight of five hundred souls marching toward destiny, each step bringing them closer to the clash that would define their lives¡ªor end them. The human army continued its march, their boots stomping in rhythm, a sound that echoed through the quiet forest. The tension was palpable but manageable, with knights occasionally adjusting their grips on their swords or murmuring quiet prayers. The magical beasts the mages rode let out occasional growls or hisses, their glowing eyes scanning the horizon. Gerhardt sat tall on his magical lizard, his old but sharp eyes narrowing as he looked ahead. At first, there was nothing unusual. The treeline ahead was still, the path before them clear. He raised a hand to halt the army briefly. "Stay vigilant," he commanded. "These savages are cunning in their ambushes." The knights nodded, their armor clinking as they straightened their posture. The mages exchanged glances, their beasts restless but controlled. Then, faintly, a shadow appeared on the horizon. It was almost indistinguishable at first, a small blur that might have been a trick of the light. But it didn''t waver or vanish. Instead, it grew. "What is that?" whispered a young knight at the front, his voice trembling slightly. Gerhardt''s eyes narrowed further, and his grip on his staff tightened. "Silence," he snapped, his voice cutting through the murmurs. The shadow grew larger, splitting into multiple shapes, each one towering higher and broader than expected. "Is it... a caravan? Or reinforcements?" one of the knights asked, trying to reassure himself. "No," muttered a grizzled veteran near him, his eyes fixed on the shadows. "Look at the way they move. That''s not human." The realization spread like wildfire through the ranks, whispers growing louder as the shadows approached. Each step of the unseen figures seemed to reverberate through the earth, faint tremors felt under their boots. "Hold the line!" Gerhardt barked, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the unease even he felt. As the figures drew nearer, more details became clear. The shadows weren''t just large¡ªthey were massive, hulking shapes that moved with a precision that belied their size. They were in formation. "A formation?" one mage on his crystalline stag said incredulously. "They''re savages! How could they¡ª" Gerhardt silenced him with a glare. "This is no ordinary horde," he muttered. "They''ve been trained." The knights were no longer murmuring. Their silence spoke volumes, their collective fear hanging heavy in the air. The tension thickened with every step the shadows took closer. When the figures finally emerged from the treeline, the sight froze the entire human army in place. Orcs. But not just any Orcs. The front line was composed of monstrous warriors, their green and gray skin covered in scars that told stories of countless battles. They were heavily armored, each plate dented and battered but functional. Their weapons were crude yet deadly, some wielding massive cleavers, others heavy clubs embedded with sharp spikes. Behind them stood the towering Ogres, their immense size dwarfing even the largest of the human knights. They were draped in heavy chains, but these weren''t bindings of submission. The chains wrapped around their massive arms and torsos, their ends cut and jagged, swinging like weapons of their own. "What... what are those chains?" a knight stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They look like beasts bound for war," another muttered, his hand trembling on the hilt of his sword. "Quiet!" Gerhardt snapped, though his own voice carried a slight tremor. His lizard mount shifted uneasily beneath him, sensing the rising tension. The Orcs'' formation was unnervingly organized. Each rank moved with precision, shields raised, weapons at the ready. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their steps were synchronized, their presence exuding an aura of discipline that seemed entirely out of place for a horde of so-called savages. "They''re... they''re an army," one of the mages whispered, disbelief etched across her face. "Impossible," Gerhardt growled, though his tone lacked conviction. "They''re beasts. Brainless brutes. This must be some trick, some illusion!" But as the Orcs and Ogres came closer, the reality of their appearance shattered any illusions the humans might have hoped for. The Orcs'' armor gleamed dully in the faint sunlight, patched and repaired with scraps of metal and bone. Their faces were grim, eyes burning with an unnatural intensity. The Ogres were even more terrifying. Their chains clanked with every step, the sound echoing like a death knell. Some had added spikes and blades to their bindings, turning them into makeshift weapons. Their eyes glowed faintly, a feral intelligence behind them that defied their brutish reputation. "Dear gods," one knight muttered, crossing himself. "What are we facing?" "They''re just Orcs," Gerhardt snapped, though his voice wavered. "And those... things... they''re just bigger Orcs. Hold your ground!" The human ranks shuffled, shields raised a little higher, swords held a little tighter. But the fear was palpable. As the Orcs and Ogres came closer, their numbers became more apparent. This wasn''t a small warband. This was a force, organized and ready for battle. And at their head stood a figure unlike the rest. Though still obscured by shadows, the leader''s presence was undeniable. His armor was larger, more ornate, and his stance exuded authority. The knights could feel his gaze, even at a distance, piercing through their ranks like a predator sizing up its prey. Gerhardt clenched his staff, his knuckles white. "Prepare yourselves," he commanded, his voice losing some of its earlier force. "This is no ordinary fight. Steel your hearts. This is a test of your resolve!" The knights shouted their affirmations, but their voices were tinged with hesitation. Even the mages, their beasts growling and hissing, seemed uncertain. The clash between two armies was inevitable. But for the humans, standing against the terrifyingly organized horde of Orcs and Ogres, it already felt like they were at a disadvantage even with their numbers. Chapter 263 Orc side formation 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. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 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 ¡ª 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¡ªtoday, 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¡ªcrush 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¡ªtheir 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¡ªcripple 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¡ªthe 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. Continue reading at empire "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." Chapter 264 Face off He stepped forward, towering over the questioning Orc, his shadow long and foreboding. His voice dropped into a growl that seemed to vibrate in their very bones."These humans... these so-called knights and mages... they carry the bloodline of the Warlocks." Gasps rippled through the crowd. The mere mention of the Warlocks sent a chill down their spines. Volk let the shock settle before continuing, his voice rising with righteous fury. "Yes! The very Warlocks who butchered our ancestors! The ones who turned Orcs into mindless beasts, who tried to enslave our bloodline in the higher realm! "They thought they had wiped us out, leaving nothing but ashes and chains in their wake. But we are here! Their mistake was letting even a single Orc survive!" The Orcs stirred, murmurs of anger and disbelief spreading like wildfire. "Warlocks?" one growled. "Here, in this realm?" "They think they can run from us?" another snarled, pounding a fist against his shield. Volk raised a hand, silencing them. His voice thundered now, resonating across the field. "You may think these humans are weak, but they are the descendants of those who sought to destroy us. "Their blood carries the same arrogance, the same hunger for domination! And if we let even one of them live, they will regroup, grow stronger, and once again seek to annihilate us!" An enraged growl erupted from one of the Ogres, his massive fists slamming into the ground. Chains rattled ominously as others joined in, their deep voices blending with the rising cries of the Orcs. Volk''s eyes blazed as he continued. "Do you not understand? They left NOTHING of our ancestors alive in the higher realm! Not their villages, not their families, not even their children! "They butchered us down to the last infant, turning our bloodlines into mere whispers of the past!" The Orcs and Ogres roared in unison, fists and weapons raised high. The fury in their eyes mirrored the fire in Volk''s voice. He took another step forward, his boots crushing the soil beneath him as if to emphasize his point. "Now, it is our turn! To repay the blood debt that has stained the very fabric of our existence! We will not just defeat them¡ªwe will erase them. Leave NOTHING alive, just as they left nothing of our ancestors!" The crowd erupted into a frenzy. "They will know the fury of the horde!" one Orc shouted. "Warlocks or not, their blood will soak this earth!" another bellowed. "Warchief!" one Ogre roared, his chains rattling as he slammed a fist into his chest. "We will crush them all! For our bloodline! For vengeance!" Volk raised both arms, commanding their attention once more. "Do you feel that fire in your hearts? That is the spirit of our ancestors, burning brighter than ever! Their vengeance flows through our veins! Their screams of defiance echo in our war cries!" The Orcs and Ogres stomped, roared, and clashed weapons against shields. The ground itself seemed to tremble under their fury. But Volk wasn''t finished. He lowered his arms and took a step closer to the front lines, his voice dropping into a sinister growl that made every ear strain to listen. "Today, we don''t just fight for land or victory. We fight for our bloodline, for our honor. We fight to ensure that no human, no Warlock, ever dares to cross us again. We fight to show them that their reign of terror ends here!" S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Orcs howled in agreement, their rage boiling over. The female Orcs hissed and growled, baring teeth, their fists clenched tightly. The Ogres roared louder, pounding the ground with their massive hands. Volk''s grin widened, satisfied with the flames he had stoked. "And when the last human lies broken at our feet, the ancestors will look down upon us and see that the bloodline of the Orcs is stronger than ever! Now, my horde, tell me¡ªwill you let these humans live?" "NEVER!" they roared, their voices shaking the very forest. "Will you show them mercy?" "NONE!" "Then prepare yourselves! For today, the blood of the Warlocks flows, and the vengeance of the Orcs begins!" The horde erupted in a deafening roar, their cries of fury and agreement echoing far and wide. Weapons were raised, shields slammed together, and the very air seemed to vibrate with their bloodlust. Volk, standing tall at the head of his horde, nodded in approval. "Then let them come," he muttered under his breath, his crimson eyes gleaming. "And let them learn the true meaning of despair." The shadows of the human army stretched far across the land, their presence growing steadily as the figures approached. At first, it was but a speck in the distance, barely noticeable, but soon, that speck grew larger, more imposing, and the very air seemed to vibrate with the weight of their approach. Every footstep of the advancing army was a rumble in the earth, a testament to their numbers and strength. The marching of hundreds, maybe thousands, of humans on foot, their armor gleaming in the fading light, created a terrifying spectacle, the clinking of their weapons and shields reverberating like the sound of an impending storm. But it wasn''t the sheer number of soldiers that made the ground feel as if it were trembling under their advance. It was the six leading figures, far more menacing and powerful than any mere foot soldiers. At the head of them, an old man rode upon a magical lizard, his posture straight and imposing despite his age. The creature was massive, its scales reflecting the light with an eerie, unnatural gleam, a creature born from the depths of arcane magic itself. The old man''s robes billowed out behind him as if they were made of shadows, his face hidden beneath a dark hood, but his presence was undeniable. At the rear of the old man, five mages rode their own terrifying mounts, each one a distinct figure, as if they had been drawn from the deepest, most forgotten corners of the magical realms. Their beasts were as strange as their masters, each one exuding an aura of danger and power that would make even the bravest of warriors hesitate. The first mage rode a wyvern unlike any seen before. Its wings were short and frail-looking, yet the creature moved with terrifying grace, its scales a molten red that seemed to pulse with the heat of the earth itself. Faint trails of smoke curled from its nostrils, and its eyes burned like embers, casting a fiery glow on the landscape. The mage seated atop it was cloaked in dark red, his hands raised as if feeling the heat of the creature''s body, channeling the power of fire that burned within. The second mage, a woman draped in silver and blue, commanded a majestic, crystalline stag. Its form was delicate yet unyielding, with antlers made of sharp, frosty-blue crystals that seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. The stag moved with an ethereal grace, as if it barely touched the ground, its every step leaving behind shimmering trails of frost that hung in the air like whispers of magic. The woman''s eyes were as sharp as ice, and the air around her seemed to freeze in response to her will, creating a biting chill that followed her every movement. The third mage sat atop a serpentine creature, its body long and sinuous, twisting and coiling through the air as though it were swimming through an invisible ocean. Its scales were deep green, but with flashes of silver light reflecting off of them, creating the illusion of water running through its body. The mage himself was wrapped in a flowing green cloak that seemed to blend into the natural surroundings, his presence nearly as fluid as the serpent he rode. His hands wove through the air in smooth, graceful motions, and the magical energy that surrounded him rippled like the surface of a pond disturbed by a stone. The fourth mage rode a hulking feline beast, its body covered in dark fur and jagged black horns that curved out from its head like the twisted branches of a tree. The creature''s eyes glowed a sickly green, a supernatural light that seemed to pierce through the darkness. Experience tales with empire Its every step left deep impressions in the ground, and when it moved, it moved with the terrifying speed and grace of a predator stalking its prey. The mage atop it was an enigma, his dark cloak flowing around him like a shadow, his face concealed beneath a hood, but the power that radiated from him was palpable. The very air around him seemed to vibrate with unnatural energy, as if the ground itself was afraid of his presence. The fifth and final mage rode upon a creature of darkness itself¡ªa massive, pitch-black arachnid whose body was covered in chitinous armor that shimmered like ink in the moonlight. The creature''s legs were long and spindly, moving with an unsettling, jerky rhythm, and the sound of its many legs clattering across the earth was enough to make the hairs on the back of one''s neck stand on end. The mage, cloaked in black, sat atop the arachnid''s back with an eerie calm, his eyes glowing faintly red beneath his hood. The creature exuded an aura of dread, and every step it took seemed to be one closer to some dark, inevitable fate. As these six powerful figures drew closer, the ground beneath them seemed to pulse with a palpable tension, as if the earth itself was afraid of their approach. The human army behind them was a sea of steel, their armor gleaming and shields raised, their weapons ready for the coming clash. The knights, soldiers, and mages all stood ready, their faces grim and determined. But it was the magical beasts and their riders that truly stole the breath from the air. Their magical presence was overwhelming, as if reality itself bent and twisted around them. The air shimmered with the power they wielded, making the very atmosphere thick with energy. The armies of Orcs and Ogres, who had been preparing for a clash with what they thought would be a simple, mundane enemy, now felt the full weight of the opposition. The air was charged with anticipation, fear, and a sense of inevitability, as if the world itself held its breath, waiting for the moment when these two forces would collide. The tension was unbearable, and yet, neither side moved. The Ogres and Orcs stood firm, their weapons clenched tightly, eyes locked on the human forces ahead of them. Their commanders, Volk among them, stood at the forefront, waiting for the right moment to give the command. But the humans, too, were at the edge of their seats, preparing to unleash their fury. The ground trembled beneath their feet as the two armies, separated by only a few hundred yards, waited for the battle to begin. Chapter 265 Arrogant Emissary The humans hesitated for only a moment before their ranks parted, and from the mass of steel and banners stepped a single figure on horseback.The emissary wore polished plate armor that glinted in the faint light, adorned with the sigil of a golden griffon perched atop a crimson shield. He carried himself with the haughty air of someone who had never known fear or doubt in his life. His horse, a magnificent white steed with golden barding, trotted forward with a confidence that mirrored its rider''s demeanor. Volk, standing tall at the forefront of his formation, watched the emissary''s approach with faint amusement. His crimson eyes flickered, a sardonic grin playing on his lips as he noted the man''s utter lack of hesitation. Does he not see us? Volk thought, his gaze sweeping over the ranks of Orcs and towering Ogres behind him. Is he blind to the hulking forms and gleaming weapons? Or is he truly that foolish? The emissary reined in his horse just beyond the reach of any arrows or thrown weapons, raising a gauntleted hand as if to demand silence. The human soldiers behind him straightened, their discipline evident in their rigid stances. The air was thick with tension as every Orc, Ogre, and human waited to see what this solitary rider would say. The emissary''s voice rang out, sharp and imperious, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Horde of Orcs and beasts! I am Sir Reginald Godfrey, emissary of the Kingdom of Aelinthor and representative of its might and divine right!" His voice carried an air of absolute authority, tinged with a sneering condescension that set Volk''s teeth on edge. "You stand upon land that does not belong to you," Sir Reginald continued, his tone dripping with disdain as his piercing gaze swept over the ranks of Orcs and Ogres. "You foul creatures have trespassed upon the sacred territory of our realm, and for this act of insolence, you will answer with your lives¡ªunless..." He paused dramatically, his lips curling into a smirk that Volk found almost comically arrogant. "...you surrender immediately." The Orcs behind Volk bristled, growling low in their throats. The Ogres tightened their grips on their weapons, their massive forms shifting restlessly. But Volk raised a hand, silencing them with a single gesture. He wanted to hear this human out. "Your crimes are numerous!" Sir Reginald declared, pointing an accusing finger at Volk as though he were lecturing a disobedient child. "You have dared to rise from the filth of your hovels, dared to breathe the same air as men of honor, and dared to dream above your station! Your very existence is an insult to all that is good and pure in this world!" His voice rose with righteous indignation, his words laced with venom. "You vermin have slaughtered Baron Geisler, a noble protector of this land, and for this heinous act, the kingdom demands recompense!" Volk''s grin widened, his fangs glinting as he leaned slightly forward. This man is either incredibly brave or completely mad. Reginald continued, oblivious to the growing tension among the Orcs and Ogres. "Therefore, by the decree of King Aldemar III and the divine will of the gods, you are hereby ordered to lay down your arms, bow before the might of the kingdom, and submit yourselves to our mercy." He spat the last word as if it pained him to offer even that much. "Failure to comply will result in your complete and utter annihilation." He shifted in his saddle, his smirk deepening. "And for your crimes, your leader¡ª" his gaze settled squarely on Volk, "¡ªthis abomination who dares to call himself a Warchief, will be executed publicly as a warning to all other beasts who dare to challenge human supremacy." The Orcs erupted in furious growls and snarls, their hands clenching their weapons tightly. The Ogres stomped their feet, the ground trembling beneath their massive weight. But Sir Reginald was not finished. "Furthermore," he added, his voice rising above the commotion, "all female Orcs and beasts will be taken into custody to ensure they no longer propagate their vile spawn. Your males will be culled, and any survivors will be enslaved to atone for their sins!" He laughed coldly, his eyes gleaming with malice. "That is, if any of you survive the might of Aelinthor''s army. Which I highly doubt." The sheer audacity of the man left even the Ogres momentarily stunned. One of the female Orcs, standing near the front, let out a guttural snarl, her hand twitching toward her weapon, but Volk raised his hand again, commanding silence. His grin had transformed into a full, toothy smile, his crimson eyes glinting with a dangerous light. Sir Reginald leaned forward slightly, as if daring Volk to challenge his words. "Well? What say you, beast? Do you have the sense to surrender, or shall we proceed to grind your pathetic horde into the dirt where it belongs?" The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Then Volk, still smiling, threw his head back and let out a booming, guttural laugh that echoed across the battlefield like thunder. The sound was so sudden, so unexpected, that even the confident Sir Reginald faltered, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second. The Orcs and Ogres behind Volk erupted into laughter as well, their voices mingling into a cacophony of deep, mocking bellows that drowned out the human emissary''s indignant spluttering. Volk lowered his head, his laughter subsiding into a wicked chuckle as he met Sir Reginald''s gaze. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You humans," he said, his voice low and filled with dark amusement, "never fail to entertain me." Sir Reginald''s eyes narrowed at Volk''s laughter, his face darkening as the echoing mockery from the Orcs and Ogres rolled across the field. He pulled his horse to a sharp halt, his grip on the reins tightening as his jaw clenched. Then, with an exaggerated sniff of disdain, he raised his gauntleted hand to silence the humans behind him. "You dare laugh?" he said, his voice dripping with incredulity and rage. He turned his horse in a tight circle, making a show of his composure as though to reassert his authority. "You dare mock me? You dare mock the Kingdom of Aelinthor? You dare mock civilization itself?" His voice rose with each question, until it was practically a roar. The human soldiers behind him stood straighter, feeding off his anger as they pounded their shields in rhythmic unison. Sir Reginald pointed an accusatory finger at Volk, his tone turning colder, sharper. "Do you not understand your position, you grotesque abomination? You and your filthy horde of brutes and savages stand at the mercy of the most powerful kingdom this world has ever known. "You stand against the finest warriors, the most skilled mages, and the divine favor of the gods themselves! Do you truly believe that your pitiful, crude weapons and primitive tactics can stand against the might of Aelinthor?" Enjoy new chapters from empire He pulled his horse closer, his sneer deepening as he spat the next words like venom. "You are not warriors. You are beasts¡ªmindless animals who happen to walk upright. You are parasites, blights upon this earth, whose very existence offends all that is noble and just! And you have the gall to laugh in the face of your executioners?" The Orcs growled lowly behind Volk, and even the Ogres grunted in irritation, their massive fists tightening on their weapons. But Sir Reginald wasn''t finished. "You do not speak," he snarled, his voice filled with scorn. "You do not mock. You do not breathe without the permission of your betters. You and your kind should be grateful we even offer you the mercy of surrender! "If it were up to me, you''d all be slaughtered like the vermin you are, your corpses burned to ash and scattered to the winds so that no trace of your filth remains." Sir Reginald sat taller in his saddle, his voice dripping with exaggerated righteousness. "But, alas, the king in his infinite mercy believes there is value even in trash. So here you stand, granted the undeserved privilege of choosing whether to live on your knees or die on your feet. "And yet, instead of groveling for forgiveness, you stand there laughing, as though you have even the faintest hope of survival." He leaned forward, his sneer transforming into a twisted smile. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear. You are not negotiating from a position of power. You are insects standing before the boot that will crush you. You are carrion waiting to be feasted upon by crows. "Your fate is sealed, and whether you surrender now or die screaming later, the result will be the same. The Horde of Volk will be nothing more than a forgotten stain on the pages of history." Reginald straightened, his tone becoming mockingly cordial. "But do go ahead and make your little jokes. Laugh while you can, Warchief. It will make your inevitable fall all the more entertaining." He paused, his smirk deepening as he let his final words sink in. "And when you are begging for mercy, remember this moment. Remember the chance you squandered. Remember that you could have spared yourself and your people this fate." With that, Sir Reginald pulled his horse around with a flourish, his polished armor gleaming in the fading light. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, as though Volk and his horde were beneath even his contempt. "Harumpf," he snorted loudly, the sound echoing as he spurred his horse back toward the human lines. Volk watched him go, the smile on his face now a tight, dangerous line. The human soldiers erupted into cheers as their emissary returned, their morale surging as they clanged their swords against their shields in deafening unison. Their war cries grew louder, and the rhythmic pounding of their armor reverberated like a drumbeat of impending war. "HAH-HAH-HAH!" The humans shouted as one. "GLORY TO AELINTHOR! GLORY TO THE KING!" Their voices rose into a cacophony of screams and chants, their confidence swelling like a tidal wave. Volk turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming as he leaned closer to an Orc standing just to his right. His voice was low, barely audible above the human din, but filled with an unmistakable edge. "Here''s what you gotta say," Volk murmured, his lips curling into a small, wicked smile. "Say these, say that..." Chapter 266 As fast as it begins Volk''s sinister grin quickly disappeared, replaced by a scowl of irritation.Without warning, he kicked the Orc he had whispered to¡ªa sharp, forceful blow that made the Orc stumble forward. The other Orcs exchanged confused glances but said nothing, knowing better than to question their Warchief''s actions. The kicked Orc turned to face Volk, his face a mixture of confusion and betrayal. Volk''s crimson eyes narrowed, and his voice was cold and biting. "No hesitation. Go." Reluctantly, the Orc trudged forward, crossing the battlefield under the watchful eyes of both armies. Experience more on empire The humans noticed the lone figure moving toward them, and murmurs rippled through their ranks. "What''s this?" Sir Reginald sneered, leaning forward in his saddle. "A deserter? Or perhaps a pathetic attempt at negotiation?" As the Orc drew closer, Gerhardt, the old magician, narrowed his eyes. His gnarled hand tightened on his staff, the faint shimmer of a protective spell forming around him. "Stay sharp," he barked at the knights nearest him. "This might be a trap." But before the humans could react further, the Orc let out an ear-splitting roar and broke into a full sprint. His powerful legs churned the earth as he lunged straight for Gerhardt. The old magician''s eyes widened in shock. "What¡ª?!" CRACK! The Orc''s massive axe cleaved downward, smashing into the magical barrier Gerhardt had hastily conjured. The force of the blow sent ripples of energy radiating outward, and the ground beneath the magician cracked. The human soldiers froze in stunned disbelief as their supposed emissary attacker tried again, roaring with unrelenting fury. Volk, standing atop the hill, let out a guttural growl. "Stupid," he muttered. "Not what I wanted¡­ but fine." He raised his hand high into the air. "OGRES! ATTACK!" The battlefield shook as the Ogres charged forward, their chains clanking ominously. Each step they took was like a drumbeat of doom, their hulking forms casting massive shadows over the field. They roared in unison, their voices echoing across the plain like thunder. "HRRRAAAARRGGHHH!" Weapons in hand¡ªclubs made from uprooted trees, jagged stone axes, and massive chunks of rock¡ªthey barreled toward the humans, leaving deep craters in the ground with each step. The knights scrambled into formation, their previously confident shouts turning into desperate commands. "Hold the line!" Sir Reginald bellowed, his voice cracking under the strain. "Stand firm!" The human mages began chanting, their hands glowing with arcs of magic, but the Ogres were relentless. They closed the distance with terrifying speed, their bloodshot eyes locked onto the humans like predators sighting prey. The first Ogre reached the human front line, lifting its colossal club high into the air. WHAM! The weapon came crashing down with the force of a meteor, shattering shields and flinging knights like ragdolls. "FOR THE HORDE!" roared another Ogre, hurling a boulder that smashed into the knights'' formation, scattering them like leaves in the wind. Chaos erupted as the Ogres collided with the human army, their sheer strength and ferocity turning the battlefield into a maelstrom of destruction. Stones and weapons flew, blood sprayed, and the deafening sound of metal clashing with flesh and bone filled the air. Volk stood at the crest of the hill, watching the carnage unfold. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, but his mind remained calculating. This was only the beginning. He raised his hand again, signaling the Orcs to hold their position. "Wait," he muttered to himself. "Let them break before we make our move." Below, the Ogres roared with renewed vigor as they continued their onslaught, slamming their weapons into the human ranks. Their monstrous voices drowned out the screams of the humans, and their massive forms loomed like giants in a nightmare. The battle had begun. Volk''s voice cut through the cacophony of battle like a blade. "Shamans! Release the smoke! Do not attack¡ªspread and surround them! Let the Ogres keep their attention!" His tone was sharp and commanding, with no room for hesitation. The Orc shamans, scattered among the horde, exchanged glances and quickly nodded. Each one began chanting in guttural tones, their voices resonating with ancient power. Their staves, crudely fashioned but brimming with primal energy, began to glow with faint green and black hues. Smoke began to seep from the tips, wisps at first, barely noticeable against the chaos. The human army hardly paid it any mind at first. The Ogres were their primary focus¡ªhulking, roaring monstrosities that were tearing through their ranks. Soldiers were frantically trying to regroup, screaming orders and cries for help as the giant beasts swung their massive weapons. But the smoke didn''t stop. It grew thicker, curling and weaving around the battlefield like a living entity. At first, it hugged the ground, tendrils creeping around the feet of the human soldiers. The acrid smell of burning vegetation filled the air, making some of the knights cough and wave their hands in irritation. "Stay in formation!" Sir Reginald bellowed, his voice cracking with urgency. "It''s just smoke¡ªdo not let it shake you!" The shamans continued their chants, louder and more insistent. Their voices intertwined, creating a low, ominous hum that reverberated across the battlefield. The smoke thickened, turning into a dark, rolling fog that obscured vision. Within moments, the battlefield was cloaked in an impenetrable haze. Human soldiers began stumbling over one another, their movements disoriented as the once-clear sightlines were completely cut off. "What is this sorcery?!" Gerhardt shouted, gripping his staff tightly. His magical lizard hissed in agitation, its clawed feet scraping against the ground. The old mage muttered a spell, and a faint light surrounded him, but even that could only pierce a few feet into the growing smog. The smoke seemed alive. It clung to the humans, seeping into their lungs and burning their eyes. Soldiers coughed violently, some dropping their weapons to clutch their throats. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The sound of their choking mixed with the distant roars of the Ogres, creating a symphony of dread. The Ogres, unaffected by the smoke, continued their assault. Their towering forms loomed like shadows in the fog, their roars and the deafening crash of their weapons the only constants in the chaos. But even they began to slow, realizing they were no longer the center of attention. The humans were scattering, their tight formations breaking apart as the fog clouded their discipline and their courage. "Knights, regroup!" Sir Reginald''s voice rang out, though it sounded strained, almost panicked. "Follow my voice! We hold our ground¡ª" His command was cut short by the sudden sound of heavy breathing nearby. A human soldier screamed as a massive shadow lunged out of the smoke, an Ogre''s club smashing into the ground where the soldier had been standing moments before. Chaos reigned supreme. Meanwhile, Volk watched from his vantage point. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, the smoke curling around him like a dark crown. He grinned, satisfied with the unfolding chaos. The humans were doing exactly what he expected: panicking. His Ogres were the perfect distraction, drawing attention while his shamans worked their magic. The shamans'' chanting reached a fever pitch. The smoke grew thicker still, becoming a swirling vortex of darkness that blotted out the sun. Even the magical beasts of the mages began to grow restless, their glowing forms flickering as if the smoke was sapping their strength. "Surround them!" Volk commanded, his voice booming. "Shamans, push the smoke further! Orcs, spread out and encircle them¡ªleave no gaps!" The Orcs obeyed without question. They moved swiftly and silently through the haze, their bulky forms surprisingly agile as they positioned themselves around the human army. Despite their size, they made little noise, their heavy footfalls muffled by the thick smoke. The humans, unaware of the Orcs'' movements, struggled to regroup. "Sir Gerhardt! We need light! We can''t see anything!" one of the mages shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. Gerhardt''s face was pale, sweat dripping from his brow. He muttered incantations under his breath, summoning a bright orb of light that floated above him. It cast a small circle of clarity, revealing the terrified faces of the knights around him. But the light only seemed to anger the smoke, which surged and twisted as if it were alive, pushing back against the magic. Volk''s grin widened. He stepped forward, raising his arms as if to embrace the battlefield. "Fools," he muttered to himself, his voice filled with contempt. He turned to the Orcs closest to him, their green faces barely visible through the haze. "Prepare yourselves. This isn''t a battle; it''s a slaughter. Let them squirm." Then, as the shamans continued their work, Volk raised a hand and clenched it into a fist. "This is it," he said to no one in particular. "This is how I''ll break them." His eyes narrowed, his focus unwavering. He felt a surge of anticipation, a deep hunger for the power that awaited him. The notification of his mission rewards echoed in his mind. "I will make this quick," Volk muttered, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I need my full power back." Chapter 267 Small War Volk stood amidst the swirling, living smoke, his crimson eyes gleaming like embers in the night.His towering form loomed over his warriors, a beacon of ruthless command and unrelenting confidence. The battlefield was an evolving storm of chaos¡ªan orchestra of clashes, cries, and the deep rumble of the Ogres'' guttural roars. The humans, disoriented and struggling to regroup, were fighting blind. Continue your story on empire It was the perfect moment to strike a decisive blow. Volk raised his voice, cutting through the din like a war drum. "Ogres! Front and center!" he roared, his voice a rumbling thunder that made the ground seem to quake. The Ogres, their massive forms shrouded in the impenetrable smoke, paused their rampage for a moment and turned toward him. Their glowing eyes pierced the fog, burning with primal ferocity. "You will focus on the magic users!" Volk commanded, pacing before them like a lion before its pride. "See those glowing figures on their beasts? Those are your targets. They wield the power that could turn this battle. If you let them live, they will bring ruin upon us all! "Rip them apart! Crush their bones! Smash their beasts into the dirt! Let them know the terror of facing the might of true warriors!" The Ogres snarled in response, their deep growls vibrating through the air. They tightened their grips on their weapons¡ªmassive clubs, crude axes, and jagged stone hammers, each one capable of obliterating anything in its path. The chains around their wrists and necks clinked ominously, adding to their fearsome presence. "But Warchief," one of the Ogres rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "They ride strange beasts. They glow with magic. How do we fight that?" Volk''s gaze snapped to the questioning Ogre, and he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. "How do you fight that?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "You are the fight! Your strength is unmatched! Your resilience is legendary! These so-called mages are nothing but cowards hiding behind their spells! Their glowing beasts? They''re just animals! You''re Ogres! You were born to crush! To conquer! To dominate!" The questioning Ogre hesitated, but then straightened, a new determination hardening his features. The other Ogres began to growl in agreement, their confidence swelling like a rising tide. Volk raised his arm and pointed toward the humans. "Do not hesitate! Do not stop until they are reduced to nothing but blood and ash! Let the Warlocks'' descendants know the wrath of the bloodline they tried to destroy!" The Ogres howled, their voices deep and guttural, echoing across the battlefield. Their massive feet began to stomp in unison, a terrifying rhythm that resonated through the earth. The smoke swirled around them, almost as if it were feeding off their fury. "And you, Orcs!" Volk barked, turning to his smaller yet equally ferocious warriors. "Do not get in their way! Stay in formation! Surround the humans! Cut off their retreat! Let the Ogres do what they do best! But if any of those mages try to escape, you are to intercept them and make sure they regret the attempt!" The Orcs roared in response, their voices filled with bloodlust. They tightened their grips on their weapons, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of battle. Volk turned back to the Ogres, his voice rising to a crescendo. "Remember your strength! Remember your ancestors! Show these humans what happens when they dare to stand against the Horde! Go now! Wipe them out!" The Ogres needed no further encouragement. They charged forward, their massive forms shaking the ground with each step. The smoke parted around them as if bowing to their might, revealing the glowing figures of the mages and their beasts. The humans'' line of defense faltered as the Ogres barreled toward them. The sight was enough to send a ripple of panic through the ranks. "Hold the line!" Sir Reginald shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "Defend the mages!" But it was too late. The Ogres reached the mages with terrifying speed, their massive weapons swinging through the air with devastating force. The crystalline stag of one mage shattered under a crushing blow, sending shards of glowing blue crystal flying in all directions. The mage screamed as he was flung from his mount, his body hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. Another Ogre lunged at the mage atop the serpentine beast. The mage tried to cast a defensive spell, but the Ogre''s sheer speed and power overwhelmed him. The serpent was slammed into the ground, its ethereal form flickering before dissipating entirely. The remaining mages scrambled to regroup, their spells lighting up the smoke-filled battlefield in flashes of brilliant color. But the Ogres were relentless, their brute strength and unyielding determination cutting through the humans'' defenses like a scythe through wheat. Volk watched from his position, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. He turned to the Orc shamans. "Keep the smoke thick! Blind them! Make them choke on it!" The shamans obeyed, their chants growing louder. The smoke thickened further, turning the battlefield into a swirling vortex of darkness. Volk''s gaze shifted back to the chaos. His plan was unfolding perfectly, and he could feel the promise of victory pulsing in his veins. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "They are still strong," he muttered to himself, his voice low and dangerous. "I needed to weaken your magicians and yes their magicians only so they won''t sense what I would do next." Volk stood at the heart of the battlefield, his piercing red eyes darting across the chaos like a predator surveying its prey. His hulking frame towered over the smoke and flames that engulfed the combat zone. Each shout he bellowed carried authority, rage, and unrelenting command. "Orcs! Form up! Keep the humans pinned!" he roared, his voice booming over the cacophony of war. "Do not let a single one escape! If they turn their backs, run them down like the dogs they are!" The Orcs roared in acknowledgment, their ferocity redoubling as they tightened their ranks. Their shields clanged together, forming an impenetrable wall as they surged forward, forcing the human soldiers further into disarray. Volk turned his attention to the shamans. "Keep that smoke rolling! Blind them! Suffocate them! Make their mages choke on their own spells!" The shamans intensified their incantations, the air thickening further with acrid smoke that twisted and coiled like living shadows. Human soldiers coughed and sputtered, their vision obscured as they swung their weapons wildly, hoping to hit something¡ªanything. "Archers!" Volk barked, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Pick off their stragglers! Focus on the ones trying to regroup! Make them pay for every step they take!" The Orc archers unleashed a hail of arrows, their sharp tips whistling through the air before finding their marks. Screams of pain erupted from the human lines as soldiers fell, clutching at arrows buried deep in their flesh. Volk''s eyes snapped to the Ogres, who were locked in brutal combat with the mages and their monstrous mounts. "Ogres! Stop playing with your food!" he snarled. "Finish them! Smash their beasts! Shatter their bones! I want their screams to echo through the heavens!" The Ogres roared in response, their massive weapons swinging with renewed ferocity. One Ogre grabbed the crystalline stag of a mage and crushed its glowing antlers in his fist before slamming the beast into the ground. Another Ogre hurled a boulder at the mage on the horned feline, the impact sending both beast and master sprawling. Volk''s orders came rapid-fire, each one calculated to exploit the humans'' weaknesses. "Frontline warriors! Press forward! Do not give them room to breathe! Shamans, keep the rear covered! If any mage dares to flee, bring them down with your curses! Orc spearmen, cut through their formations like the tusks of a boar!" The battlefield obeyed Volk''s commands like an extension of his will. The Orcs and Ogres moved with precision and brutality, their combined efforts overwhelming the human forces. "Look at them!" Volk shouted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Pathetic! Weak! They came here thinking they could match us, but all they''ll find is death!" Despite the humans'' attempts to rally, Volk''s relentless aggression left them no room for recovery. Even the intimidating figures of the mages began to falter under the unrelenting assault. One of the human mages, desperate to turn the tide, attempted a massive spell, his hands glowing with arcane energy. But before he could finish, an Ogre slammed into him, his weapon crushing the mage''s staff and sending shards of glowing wood flying. Volk sneered, his lips curling into a feral grin. "Is this the best they have to offer?" he growled. "Warriors! Show them what it means to face a true horde!" He scanned the battlefield, his mind working furiously to maintain control over every aspect of the fight. "Left flank! Push harder! They''re weakest there! Center ranks, hold your ground! Right flank, cut them off! Encircle them! Do not let them escape!" The humans'' cries of desperation grew louder as Volk''s forces tightened their grip. The mages, once seen as an impenetrable wall of power, were now occupied and scattered, their beasts either slain or gravely wounded. Volk''s blood boiled with excitement as the tide of battle shifted entirely in his favor. His chest heaved with adrenaline, and the scars lining his muscular frame glistened with sweat and blood. Suddenly, Volk paused, his gaze snapping to the nearest shaman. "Prepare the next wave!" he commanded. "We will finish this in one fell swoop! Leave nothing behind! Not a soldier, not a beast, not even a whisper of their existence!" As the shamans chanted and the Orcs pressed forward, Volk''s massive, muscular body began to shift. His veins bulged unnaturally, glowing faintly with an eerie green light. His flesh rippled as though something immense was stirring within him. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms, and a low, guttural growl escaped his lips. "I will make this quick," he muttered to himself, his voice heavy with anticipation. "It''s time to reclaim my full power." Chapter 268 Gerhardt Old man Gerhardt sat atop his massive lizard mount, his weathered face etched with lines of age and experience.His sharp eyes darted across the battlefield, trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding before him. The acrid smoke from the Orc shamans hung in the air, obscuring the view of his forces and stifling the sharp coordination the humans relied on. He clenched his staff tightly, the enchanted wood glowing faintly as his thoughts raced. He mumbled to himself, his voice low and gravelly, "So, this is what they were hiding... perhaps this is why Baron Geisler fell. Not because of his incompetence, not because of his overconfidence, but because these wretched beasts have numbers far beyond expectation. Orcs in the hundreds, if not thousands... And those Ogres..." His gaze flickered to the monstrous figures in the distance, their shackled limbs swinging massive weapons with unnatural ease. "The Ogres..." he murmured again, almost in disbelief. "Slaves, but not mindless. Look at them¡ªmagic resistant, brutal in strength, and yet they obey like trained hounds. How did they manage to subjugate such creatures? Orcs... Orcs shouldn''t have the capability to wield such discipline. They shouldn''t..." His thoughts faltered for a moment as he tried to reconcile the image of the feral, chaotic brutes he had fought in the past with the organized, terrifying force before him. But then he straightened, shaking his head and exhaling sharply. "No matter," he growled under his breath. "We have magic on our side. Five second-class middle-stage magicians stand at my back, each one powerful in their domain. They are young, yes, but their potential is vast. And I... "I am a third-class magician. I have fought wars before; I have crushed greater forces than this rabble. These Orcs are numerous, yes, and those Ogres will be troublesome... but they are not invincible. They will fall, just like the others." His mind worked furiously as he mumbled a plan, speaking softly to himself but with growing confidence. "First, we focus on the Orcs. Their numbers are their strength, but also their weakness. Divide and conquer. We break their formation, scatter them like leaves in the wind. "The smoke is an obstacle, but it works both ways. They can''t see us either. We''ll use it to our advantage." He pointed his staff slightly, tracing invisible lines in the air as he imagined the battlefield unfolding. "The mages will cast wide-area spells to disrupt their ranks. Fire to scorch their frontlines, ice to hinder their movement, lightning to break their morale. "We''ll target their leaders, the ones giving orders. Without leadership, their so-called discipline will crumble, and they will revert to the mindless beasts they truly are." His lips curled into a small, confident smirk. "Once the Orcs are in disarray, we deal with the Ogres. They are powerful, yes, and resistant to magic, but they are slow. Lumbering beasts. "If we can incapacitate them¡ªbind their limbs, immobilize them with earth magic¡ªthey will be vulnerable. A single focused strike, a blade enchanted with piercing runes, or perhaps a well-placed explosion spell... that will bring them down." He nodded to himself, his confidence growing with every word. "Yes, it''s a simple plan. We overwhelm them with our superior firepower, and we don''t give them time to retaliate. "They may have numbers, but numbers mean little in the face of true power. We have strategy, coordination, and the blessings of the gods on our side." Suddenly, the faint roar of a command rang out from the enemy''s lines. Gerhardt''s attention snapped to the Orc leader, his eyes narrowing as he saw the massive, muscular figure directing the horde with terrifying precision. "What...?" Gerhardt muttered, his confidence flickering for the first time. "He commands them with... intelligence? No... that cannot be right." He strained to hear the words, but the smoke and noise swallowed most of them. Still, the results were clear. The Orcs began to shift and move with alarming efficiency. "They''re spreading out... surrounding us," Gerhardt realized, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That smoke, it wasn''t just a defensive tactic. It''s a distraction, a cover for them to encircle us!" His jaw clenched, and he felt a rare flicker of fear. "This... This is not the Orc horde of old. This is something different. Something... more." He gritted his teeth and slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, the impact sending a faint ripple of magical energy through the air. "Plan B," he growled to the mages behind him. "We knew this might happen. Prepare the defensive formations! If they think they can surround us, we''ll make them regret it. Let them close in. When they''re within range, we''ll unleash hell upon them. Fire, ice, lightning¡ªeverything. They won''t know what hit them." He turned back to the battlefield, his eyes burning with determination. "This will be an easy fight," he said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. As if to mock him, the Orc leader''s voice roared out again, cutting through the chaos like a war drum. Gerhardt''s gut churned as he realized that every move the humans made, every adjustment they attempted, seemed to be anticipated and countered by the Orc leader. "Who is he?" Gerhardt muttered under his breath, gripping his staff tighter. "No Orc should be capable of this..." The battlefield was shrouded in an impenetrable haze as the Orc shamans relentlessly conjured thick, curling plumes of smoke. It rolled across the terrain like an unrelenting tide, blotting out the sun and reducing visibility to mere inches. The human soldiers, already uneasy from the strange and disciplined movements of the Orcs and the terrifying presence of the Ogres, began to falter in their resolve. Mutters and coughs spread through their ranks as the choking fog wormed its way into their lungs and obscured their sight. Gerhardt, seated atop his magical lizard, waved his hand irritably in front of his face, his patience wearing thin. "Damn this infernal smoke!" he snarled, his aged voice cutting through the murmurs of confusion among the human army. He glanced at the five mages flanking him, their own magical beasts shifting uneasily beneath them. "Enough of this!" he barked. "This is a trivial nuisance! Clear it at once! Do you intend to let this rabble blind us?" The five mages exchanged tense glances before nodding in unison. Each began weaving intricate patterns into the air with their hands, their chants blending into a low, rhythmic hum that resonated through the battlefield. The air around them shimmered as their spells took shape, each mage commanding a different element. "Ventus Gale!" cried the mage atop the crystalline stag, her voice carrying the weight of authority as she summoned a roaring wind. It swept forward, slicing through the smoke like a blade, but as soon as it carved a path, the smoke seemed to surge back, thicker and more malevolent. "Fulgur Lance!" shouted another mage, his voice trembling slightly as he hurled a bolt of lightning into the murk. The crackling energy illuminated the darkness for a fleeting moment, revealing only swirling shadows and shifting forms before the smoke swallowed the light whole. "Pyra Nova!" bellowed the mage astride the molten wyvern. A blazing sphere of fire erupted from his outstretched hand, hurtling into the smoke. The explosion should have cleared a large area, but instead, it seemed to ignite the haze itself, causing it to glow a sinister red before settling back into its oppressive grayness. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The old mage on the air-swimming serpent hissed through clenched teeth as she unleashed a wave of purifying water, hoping to dampen the smoke and make it dissipate. For a moment, it seemed to work, but then the water vaporized into steam, adding to the disorienting chaos. Gerhardt clenched his jaw, his frustration boiling over. "They are toying with us!" he snarled, gripping his staff so tightly his knuckles whitened. His eyes darted to the battlefield, searching for any sign of the enemy. "This isn''t just a smokescreen. They''re focusing their efforts on keeping us blind!" The realization sank into the mages as their spells continued to falter against the persistent smoke. One by one, their chants faltered, their confidence waning. "This isn''t natural smoke," murmured the mage on the black arachnid, her voice low and uneasy. "It''s infused with magic¡ªchaotic, malevolent magic. They''re not just hiding themselves; they''re suffocating our senses." "Then fight through it!" Gerhardt snapped, though his own unease was growing. He could feel it now¡ªthe deliberate intent behind the smoke, the way it seemed to coil around them, probing and pressing like a living thing. "We are magicians! Masters of the arcane arts! We will not be outwitted by savages and beasts!" Yet, despite his bravado, Gerhardt''s mind was racing. The smoke was unnatural, yes, but it was more than that. It was a strategy¡ªa clever, insidious one. The Orc leader wasn''t just trying to obscure their vision; he was manipulating their focus, making them waste precious energy and resources on clearing the haze while his forces remained hidden. As this realization dawned, the smoke thickened further, now accompanied by faint, eerie sounds¡ªlow growls, distant thuds, the scrape of metal on stone. It was impossible to tell where the noises were coming from, adding another layer of confusion and dread to the already tense human army. Gerhardt''s lizard mount shifted uneasily beneath him, its glowing eyes darting into the fog. The old mage tightened his grip on the reins and raised his staff high. "Enough!" he roared. "Cease your spells!" The mages halted their efforts, their faces pale and drawn as they looked to Gerhardt for guidance. "Group together!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the rising panic. "Form a defensive circle! Prepare for whatever is coming. This smoke is not the threat; it is a distraction. The real attack will come soon, and we will be ready for it!" The mages and soldiers scrambled to obey, their movements hurried and jittery. Shields were raised, weapons were drawn, and chants for protective wards began to echo through the ranks. The air grew heavy with anticipation, every sound amplified by the oppressive silence that followed. Gerhardt sat still atop his mount, his eyes scanning the smoke as his heartbeat quickened. Find your next read at empire Something wasn''t right. The air itself seemed to pulse with energy, an ominous, growing pressure that made his skin crawl. And then, he felt it¡ªa surge of magical power so intense it sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes widened in shock as he turned his gaze skyward, where the source of the disturbance seemed to originate. The smoke parted slightly, revealing faint, swirling lights high above, their colors shifting and flickering with raw, untamed energy. "Oh no..." Gerhardt whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and dread. His grip on his staff tightened as he felt the sheer magnitude of the magical fluctuation descending upon them. "What is that?" Chapter 269 Here I go! High above the battlefield, Volk floated, suspended in the endless expanse of the blue sky.His massive, grotesque form¡ªa blend of raw muscle and unnatural energy¡ªseemed to consume the space around him. His radioactive Ogre-like body radiated an eerie green hue, casting a faint glow on the clouds that drifted lazily around him. The air sizzled faintly with his presence, a reminder of the raw, devastating power he now held. His elongated limbs, each rippling with grotesque strength, stretched outward, and his enormous, twisted frame looked almost serene against the tranquil backdrop of the heavens. Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance, his thoughts racing. The system''s punishment after fighting the undead monarch still echoed in his mind, an ever-present reminder of his limitations. "The radioactive state is restricted until specific conditions are met..." Volk clenched his massive fists, his nails digging into his palms as his frustration surged. When the punishment had first been imposed, he''d believed it would take an eternity to regain the full extent of his abilities. A slow, painstaking process of rebuilding his strength, perhaps over years, or even decades. Yet now... He grinned savagely, the thought forming a plan as sharp as the clouds slicing across his field of vision. Every human death seemed to chip away at the system''s restrictions. Every fallen body brought him closer to liberation. "Kill humans... regain power..." What if he didn''t stop there? What if he eradicated not just the humans on this battlefield, but every last one in the Orzaroth realm? The idea burned in his mind like an ember catching fire. His grin widened, exposing jagged teeth as he considered the implications. "If there are no humans in this world," he mused aloud, his voice deep and resonant, carrying an almost divine timbre in the open sky, "then does that mean my power won''t come back?" He entertained the thought further. What if he became a force of extinction, an entity that wiped clean the stain of humanity from the Orzaroth realm entirely? The system had imposed rules, yes, but rules were meant to be broken¡ªtwisted to his advantage. He tilted his head, pondering with a kind of brutal curiosity. If there were no humans, would the system itself collapse? Would he transcend its boundaries? Become something more than what even it could comprehend? Or perhaps... perhaps there was something even greater at stake. Volk''s glowing eyes shifted toward the infinite blue above him, his massive chest expanding as he inhaled deeply. What if this punishment wasn''t about humanity? What if this realm¡ªthis entire lower plane¡ªwas a test, and his ascension was inevitable? What if his mission wasn''t merely to regain his power but to prove himself worthy of a higher existence? "Destroy them all," he murmured to himself, the words vibrating through his radioactive form. His thoughts took darker turns. Could he reshape Orzaroth itself? Rule it with his horde? Turn this lower plane into a kingdom of ash and bone, free of humanity and brimming with his loyal Orcs and Ogres? He could almost hear the laughter of the system in the back of his mind, mocking him for his ambitions, but Volk ignored it. He would twist its game. A savage glint entered his eyes as his gaze shifted downward, piercing through the haze of smoke that blanketed the battlefield. Below, the battlefield churned with chaos. The humans were scrambling, their mages exhausting themselves to dispel the persistent fog. His shamans had done their work well. Neither the humans nor the Orcs could see him now, hidden as he was within the sky and the smoke. "This," Volk rumbled, his voice carrying an ominous weight, "this is my plan. A smokescreen for their doom." He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The humans would not see him coming. Neither would his own forces, sparing them the fear of witnessing his radioactive form. It was better this way. His horde would continue their relentless attack, ignorant of the monster looming above, ready to unleash annihilation upon their enemies. Volk flexed his immense limbs, his form pulsating with the greenish glow of radioactive energy. The system''s grip on him was weakening with every human that fell. Soon, he would be free. Free to crush, to destroy, to ascend. "This is how it ends," he growled, his grin widening into a maniacal smile. "No one survives. No one lives to speak of this day." With a final glance at the sky¡ªa silent promise to himself that this would not be the last time he gazed down from such heights¡ªVolk shifted his focus back to the battlefield. He crouched midair, his bulging muscles coiling with potential energy, and spread his massive arms wide, his radioactive glow intensifying. "I''ll make this quick," Volk declared to the empty sky, his voice brimming with anticipation. "And then, I''ll take it all back." With a deafening roar that split the heavens, Volk slashed through the air with his enormous claws, sending a ripple of power cascading around him. His radioactive aura crackled and hissed as he descended rapidly, slicing through the smoke with an unrelenting force. The clouds seemed to part for him, as though bowing before his might. The battlefield grew closer, the chaotic sounds of war swelling in his ears. As Volk hurtled toward the ground, his grin turned feral. As Volk descended through the air, his massive form cutting through the haze of smoke like a god of destruction, his right hand began to tighten into a fist. It was a simple motion, but it radiated an unimaginable sense of menace. His muscles bulged grotesquely, veins glowing with a sickly green light as radioactive energy began to converge in his palm. The energy came slowly at first, swirling lazily around his hand in wisps of glowing green mist, but it rapidly became more aggressive. Crackling tendrils of power lashed outward, colliding with the surrounding air and creating a high-pitched zzzzzt! that echoed ominously. The air itself seemed to ripple and distort as the power intensified, and the convergence of radioactive magic within his grasp began to form a concentrated orb. It pulsed rhythmically, like a second heart, beating louder and stronger with each passing moment. THUMP. The orb grew denser. THUMP. The glow became blinding, turning the green mist into a searing, neon beacon. The sound of the battlefield below¡ªwar cries, clashing weapons, screams of pain¡ªseemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the sheer presence of the growing energy in Volk''s hand. His clenched fist was now at the center of a swirling maelstrom of radioactive magic, and every fiber of his being poured into feeding its hunger. As his descent slowed, Volk''s hand trembled, not with weakness, but with the overwhelming intensity of the force he held. The orb of power in his grasp expanded and contracted erratically, its surface roiling with unstable energy, as if threatening to explode prematurely. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The smoke screen below thinned slightly, revealing glimpses of the battlefield, but even the hardened warriors and mages on both sides faltered. All eyes were drawn upward to the figure of Volk, his radioactive form glowing brighter and brighter against the backdrop of the sky. The orb was no longer just energy¡ªit was pressure. An oppressive force that seemed to crush the very air around it. It was as if Volk had captured a fragment of the sun itself, condensed it, and then demanded it obey his will. The ground beneath him began to tremble, the vibrations radiating outward in ever-widening circles. Volk''s lips curled into a cruel grin as he growled through clenched teeth: "Nuclear..." His voice was deep and resonant, carrying with it a weight that seemed to anchor the battlefield itself. The word hung in the air, heavy and ominous, sending chills down the spines of everyone who heard it. The radioactive energy in his fist flared violently, the orb growing impossibly bright and then dimming in an erratic rhythm. It screamed with raw, unrelenting power, vibrating at a frequency that seemed to resonate within the very bones of those who dared to watch. As he drew closer to the ground, his descent slowed further, each second stretching into an eternity. The closer he got, the tighter his fist became, and the orb of energy responded by compressing further, its surface now smooth, glowing, and impossibly dense. The pulsing light in his hand turned sharper, the glow no longer just green but tinged with hues of gold and crimson. The battlefield below seemed to hold its breath. Even the mages, distracted by their own struggle to clear the smoke, faltered as they felt the raw magical fluctuations rippling through the air. Volk''s grin widened, and his voice boomed again, louder this time, reverberating across the battlefield. "ECHOOOOO!" The word was a promise, a declaration of the devastation to come. The orb in his hand pulsed in sync with the final syllable, its energy swelling to the brink of containment. The ground beneath him began to crack, spiderweb fractures forming even before he landed. Each tremor grew more violent, sending shockwaves across the battlefield as if the earth itself was trembling in anticipation of what was about to come. As Volk approached mere feet from the ground, the intensity of the energy in his fist reached its peak. The greenish glow was now an unbearable radiance, casting everything in a sickly light and burning itself into the eyes of those who dared to look. The orb seemed alive, writhing and snarling like a caged beast desperate to be unleashed. Volk opened his mouth, his voice rising to a deafening crescendo, shaking the very air around him. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!" And with that final roar, Volk''s fist slammed into the earth. Your next journey awaits at empire Chapter 270 Massacre The battlefield was alive with chaos as Gerhardt stood surrounded by his comrades, their collective breath catching in their throats.The old mage''s hands trembled, gripping the reins of his magical lizard as a deep, ominous rumble echoed through the smoke. At first, it was faint, barely noticeable above the din of battle, but it grew louder, deeper, more insistent with each passing moment. "What... what is that?" one of the mages whispered, their voice barely audible over the low-frequency hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Gerhardt didn''t answer immediately. His sharp, weathered eyes scanned the horizon, his magical senses tuned to the eerie fluctuations in the air. His heart pounded as the pressure built, heavy and oppressive. It wasn''t just sound¡ªit was weight, like a mountain pressing down on their chests. The other mages began to notice it too. One clutched at their chest, gasping, while another muttered incantations under their breath, trying to create a protective barrier around themselves. "I feel it," said one, their voice cracking with fear. "It''s... it''s magic, but not like anything I''ve ever felt before. It''s... wrong." "Silence!" Gerhardt barked, his authoritative tone cutting through the growing panic. His own heart raced, but he wouldn''t let the others see his fear. "Focus your minds. This is nothing but a distraction. Hold formation!" But even as he spoke, the rumbling intensified. The very ground beneath their feet seemed to shudder, and the air around them grew thick, almost suffocating. One mage fell to their knees, clutching their head. "I can''t think¡ªit''s too much! What is this?!" "Stand up!" Gerhardt barked again, his voice a mix of fury and desperation. He turned to the others. "Concentrate your power! We must dispel this¡ªwhatever it is!" The rumble deepened, transitioning into a low, pulsing vibration that they could feel in their bones. The mages exchanged panicked glances, their once-confident expressions now filled with dread. "It''s not stopping," another mage murmured, their hands trembling as they tried to summon a spell. "It''s¡ªgods, it''s getting stronger!" The wind began to pick up, swirling around them in unpredictable patterns. Loose dirt and debris were whipped into the air, creating a chaotic vortex that stung their eyes and obscured their vision. "Gerhardt, this isn''t normal!" one of the younger mages shouted, their voice breaking. "This... this is something else!" The old mage didn''t respond immediately. His mind raced, piecing together every bit of information he had. Could this be the Orc leader''s doing? No, impossible. No single being could produce this much magical pressure¡­ could they? Plus, the leader was clear just in the middle stage mana magical beasts. He was higher than that by five stages. Soon, the vibrations intensified further, now accompanied by a deep, resonating hum that made their ears ring. Gerhardt''s magical lizard shifted nervously beneath him, its claws scraping the ground as it let out a low growl of unease. Suddenly, the shockwave hit. It wasn''t a physical force but an auditory one¡ªa deafening BOOM that seemed to come from the heavens themselves. The mages reeled back, clutching their heads as the sound wave blasted through them. The ground quaked violently, cracks spider webbing through the earth as a gale-force wind tore through the battlefield. The mages screamed, some shielding their faces with their arms while others stumbled and fell to the ground. And then... nothing. The rumbling stopped. The vibrations ceased. The suffocating pressure in the air lifted, and the battlefield fell eerily silent. For a moment, no one moved. The mages exchanged wide-eyed looks, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Gerhardt sat frozen atop his lizard, his brow furrowed in confusion. Continue your journey with empire "¡­That''s it?" one of the mages finally said, their voice tinged with disbelief. Another let out a shaky laugh, standing up and brushing the dirt off their robes. "Was... was that all? That terrifying buildup... and nothing happened?" A wave of nervous chuckles rippled through the group. "Maybe it was some kind of bluff," one suggested, trying to mask their relief with bravado. "Or maybe they failed," another sneered, emboldened by the apparent anticlimax. "All that noise, all that pressure, and nothing to show for it? Pathetic." One of the younger mages collapsed to the ground, laughing hysterically. "I thought we were going to die!" they gasped between bouts of laughter. "All that panic for nothing! What a joke!" Gerhardt narrowed his eyes but said nothing. His instincts screamed at him that this wasn''t over. A mage leaned on their staff, sighing heavily. "I''ve never felt anything like that before, and it was all for show. I mean, really, what kind of failure¡­" The laughter grew louder, some mages shaking their heads in mockery, others letting out exaggerated sighs of relief. "I suppose this Orc leader isn''t as clever as he thought," one said smugly, adjusting their robes. "To think we were actually worried about¡ª" A faint tremor beneath their feet interrupted them. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it made Gerhardt''s eyes widen. "Quiet," he snapped, his voice cutting through the mocking laughter. The others fell silent, their amusement fading as they noticed the grim look on Gerhardt''s face. "What is it?" one mage asked nervously. The old man didn''t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the horizon, his magical senses reaching out. He felt it again¡ªthat same oppressive, unnatural magic from earlier. Only this time, it wasn''t just pressure. It was intent. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The faint tremor grew stronger, the ground vibrating beneath them in steady pulses. .The sky above seemed to darken slightly, as though something massive was blocking the sun. Gerhardt''s throat went dry. He looked up, his heart sinking as he saw a massive figure descending from the sky, its grotesque, glowing body radiating pure destruction. "Oh no¡­" he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands tightened around his staff, his knuckles white. "Oh gods, no." The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos as the air itself seemed to vibrate with an oppressive, suffocating power. Gerhardt, perched atop his magical lizard, was frozen in place, his aged face twisted in horror. He clenched his staff so tightly his knuckles turned white. His eyes darted around frantically, but no source of the overwhelming power could be seen. And then he felt it. A pulse. A deep, resonant thrum that seemed to originate from everywhere at once. It wasn''t sound¡ªit was force, rippling through the ground and the very air around them. The knights staggered, their armor clinking as they tried to steady themselves, looking to their commanders for guidance. "EARTH MAGIC!" Gerhardt suddenly screamed, his voice carrying over the din like a thunderclap. His shout snapped the mages and knights out of their stunned confusion. "IT''S GROUND MAGIC, OR SOMETHING WORSE! PREPARE YOURSELVES!" One of the younger knights stumbled forward, his face pale. "What''s happening, Lord Mage?" he stammered, his voice quivering. "Where is it coming from? Who''s attacking us?" "I DON''T KNOW!" Gerhardt bellowed, his voice thick with both frustration and terror. His head whipped from side to side, his magical senses reaching out desperately. The pressure was unbearable, like a tidal wave crashing over them. "I¡ªCAN''T¡ªSEE IT! DEFEND YOURSELVES! PREPARE FOR IMPACT!" The knights murmured nervously, their once-proud formation beginning to waver. A few clutched their swords and shields tighter, while others began muttering prayers to their gods. The mages, sensing the imminent threat as keenly as Gerhardt did, sprang into action. They raised their staffs and began to chant in unison, their voices weaving together in an ancient incantation. Magic circles flickered into existence around them, glowing with vibrant hues of blue, green, and gold. "MAGIC BARRIER!" Gerhardt roared, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground. A golden dome of light shimmered into existence, spreading outward to encompass as many knights as possible. The other mages followed suit, their barriers joining together to form a multilayered shield around the human army. But the pressure didn''t stop. It only grew stronger. The earth beneath their feet began to quake violently, fissures snaking across the ground with loud, cracking sounds. The air grew thick with an oppressive energy that made it difficult to breathe. One of the knights fell to his knees, gasping for air. "What is this?!" he cried out, his voice filled with panic. "I can''t... I can''t move!" "It''s coming!" another mage yelled, their face drenched in sweat as they struggled to maintain their barrier. Gerhardt''s heart pounded in his chest as he felt the energy build. It was unlike anything he''d ever experienced¡ªa raw, chaotic force that defied comprehension. And then, realization struck him like a lightning bolt. "N o... no, no, NO!" he screamed, his voice cracking. He turned to the other mages, his face a mask of terror. "RETRACT THE BARRIERS! FOCUS THEM ON YOURSELVES! NOW!" Chapter 271 Bullet hordes "But what about the knights?!" one of the younger mages protested, their hands shaking as they maintained their spell."DO IT, OR YOU''LL DIE WITH THEM!" Gerhardt snapped, his voice harsh and unyielding. The mages hesitated for only a fraction of a second before complying. The shimmering barriers that had once protected the knights collapsed inward, condensing around the mages in tight, impenetrable spheres of light. The knights looked up in confusion and betrayal. "Wait¡ªwhat are you doing?!" one of them shouted. "PROTECT YOURSELVES!" Gerhardt barked, his voice trembling. "GET AWAY FROM EACH OTHER! SPREAD OUT!" But it was too late. The oppressive energy reached its zenith, and the first explosion tore through the ranks of the knights with a deafening BOOM. A soldier at the front of the formation was thrown into the air like a ragdoll, his armor shattering into pieces before he hit the ground in a lifeless heap. Then another. And another. One by one, the knights began to explode. The force wasn''t from an external attack¡ªit was internal, as if the pressure building around them had turned their very bodies into bombs. Blood sprayed into the air, mixing with the acrid smoke that now hung over the battlefield. The screams were deafening. A knight near the center of the formation clutched at his chest, his eyes wide with terror. "HELP ME! SOMETHING''S INSIDE ME!" he shrieked before his body burst apart in a grisly explosion. Another soldier tried to run, only to fall to his knees as his legs gave out. He let out a guttural scream before his body erupted into a shower of gore. The explosions came faster now, a horrifying chain reaction that ripped through the ranks of the human army. Limbs and armor were flung through the air like debris in a storm. The once-disciplined formation was reduced to utter chaos, soldiers scrambling in every direction in a futile attempt to escape their fate. Gerhardt and the mages watched in horror from within their protective barriers. The old man''s face was pale, his hands trembling as he clutched his staff. "This... this isn''t possible," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the carnage. "This kind of power¡ªit''s monstrous..." A younger mage beside him vomited, unable to stomach the gruesome scene unfolding before them. "What kind of magic is this?!" they choked out, tears streaming down their face. "It''s not magic," Gerhardt muttered, his voice hollow. "It''s something far worse." The chain of explosions finally slowed, leaving the battlefield eerily silent. The once-proud human army was reduced to a field of shattered armor, broken weapons, and unrecognizable remains. Gerhardt''s hands shook as he tightened his grip on his staff. He turned his gaze toward the swirling smoke, where he could just make out the faint silhouette of a massive figure descending from the sky. "It''s him," he whispered, his voice trembling. "The Orc leader... This is his doing." The other mages stared in stunned silence, their protective barriers flickering as their concentration faltered. "What... what do we do now?" one of them asked, their voice barely above a whisper. Gerhardt didn''t answer immediately. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "We survive," he said finally, his voice filled with grim determination. "No matter what, we survived!" The battlefield, eerily quiet after the devastating chain of explosions, was now a macabre graveyard. Gerhardt and the mages huddled together, their magical barriers shimmering faintly as they tried to comprehend the monstrous power that had just annihilated the human army. The silence stretched unbearably, broken only by the faint crackling of fires consuming broken banners and splintered wood. But then, a sound¡ªa deep, low whoosh¡ªbegan to echo through the smoky haze. It grew louder, a rushing noise that seemed to slice through the heavy air like a blade. Gerhardt''s heart sank as the sound crescendoed into a deafening roar. Out of the smoke, a figure hurtled toward them with terrifying speed. It was small at first, just a dark blur against the churning gray, but as it drew closer, its shape became clear. An Orc. The creature''s eyes were wild with confusion, its limbs flailing as it flew through the air. Its mouth opened in a terrified roar, its jagged teeth bared. "What¡ª" one of the younger mages started to ask, but the question was cut short as the Orc slammed into their barrier with a thunderous CRASH! The force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the protective dome, and the mages staggered under the strain of maintaining it. The Orc, stunned but alive, let out a guttural growl. Its disorientation lasted only a moment before its gaze snapped to the mages. A feral glint appeared in its eyes as it raised its crude weapon¡ªa jagged axe stained with dried blood¡ªand struck. The barrier flared, sparks flying as the axe bounced off the magical shield. But the impact left a visible crack in the shimmering wall of light. Gerhardt''s eyes widened. "They''re targeting us mid-air!" he shouted. Another sound¡ªwhoosh!¡ªcut through the chaos. "Another one!" a mage cried, pointing toward the smoke. This time, two Orcs hurtled through the air, their faces twisted with confusion and rage. They slammed into the barrier at opposite sides, their weapons striking in unison. The magical dome shuddered violently, its cracks spreading like spiderwebs. The mages strained under the pressure, their chants faltering as their focus wavered. "Hold the barrier!" Gerhardt bellowed, his voice commanding. But even as he spoke, the sound came again¡ªwhoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Three more Orcs, their muscular bodies spinning uncontrollably, were launched toward the group. They crashed into the barrier with explosive force, their combined weight and power causing the shimmering wall to flicker dangerously. "They''re coming too fast!" one of the mages cried out, sweat streaming down their face. Gerhardt clenched his staff, his mind racing. "This isn''t random... this is planned!" he snarled. As if to confirm his suspicions, the sound came again¡ªlouder this time, deeper. The ground itself seemed to tremble as a new shape emerged from the smoke. A massive figure, green and hulking, hurtled through the air like a boulder shot from a catapult. Its sheer size cast a shadow over the mages as it descended upon them. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "It''s¡ªan Ogre!" someone screamed. The creature slammed into the ground just in front of the barrier, the impact sending a shockwave that knocked several knights off their feet. The Ogre''s immense bulk towered over the mages, its face a mask of bewilderment that quickly turned to rage. With a deafening roar, it swung a massive club down onto the barrier. The magical shield fractured under the blow, shards of shimmering energy flying outward. Discover exclusive tales on empire The mages staggered, their voices faltering as they struggled to hold the barrier together. Before they could recover, another whoosh sounded, and then another. More Ogres emerged from the smoke, their colossal bodies crashing into the battlefield like falling meteors. Each one landed with earth-shaking force, their roars blending into a symphony of chaos. "This can''t be happening," one of the mages whispered, their voice trembling with fear. And then it did. A final sound¡ªa deep, guttural roar¡ªrumbled through the smoke. The ground quaked violently as a monstrous green figure, even larger than the Ogres, emerged. Its muscles rippled with unearthly strength, and its glowing eyes burned with malevolent intent. The massive figure lunged forward, moving with terrifying speed for something its size. It crashed into the barrier, its immense weight and force shattering the weakened shield completely. The mages were thrown backward, their protective spells collapsing under the assault. Gerhardt hit the ground hard, his staff clattering away from him. Pain shot through his body as he struggled to sit up, his vision blurry. He looked up just in time to see the monstrous figure¡ªa massive, mutated Orc¡ªcharging toward them. With a bone-crushing impact, the creature tackled the nearest mage, the force sending the unfortunate magician flying into a broken wagon. The others barely had time to react before the beast swung its massive arms, striking two more mages and sending them sprawling. Despite their magical shields, the mages groaned in pain, their barriers barely holding against the sheer physical might of the attacker. Blood trickled from the corner of Gerhardt''s mouth a s he watched the monstrous figure rear back for another attack. "This... this can''t be happening," he muttered, his voice weak. But it was. Chapter 272 Relentless The battlefield had descended into an unrelenting nightmare.The haze of smoke continued to billow around them, thick and choking, obscuring all but the immediate vicinity. Gerhardt and the remaining five mages, the sole survivors of what was once a formidable human force, stood shoulder to shoulder, their magical barriers flickering weakly with each desperate chant. Fear gnawed at their hearts, their minds racing for answers against the onslaught they faced. Then, the sound came again¡ªwhoosh!¡ªsharp, piercing through the dull roar of the battlefield. Another Orc was launched through the murky air, its body spinning like a ragdoll as it hurtled toward the cluster of mages. The creature''s eyes were wide with panic, its arms flailing uselessly. Yet, as it came into focus, its fear gave way to rage, and it raised its crude weapon mid-flight, targeting the nearest mage. "Here it comes again!" one of the mages screamed, their voice breaking in terror. The Orc crashed into the magical barrier with a deafening BOOM!, its jagged axe striking the glowing wall. The impact reverberated through the mages'' defenses, sending shockwaves that forced them to stumble backward. Before they could recover, the sound returned¡ªwhoosh, whoosh!¡ªthis time in rapid succession. Two more Orcs emerged from the smoky veil, their feral snarls filling the air as they careened toward the group. They struck the barrier almost simultaneously, their weapons slamming against the protective dome with bone-jarring force. "Focus! Focus the barrier!" Gerhardt shouted, his voice hoarse from exertion. But even as they poured their remaining strength into the shield, another sound erupted¡ªa guttural roar that grew louder and more menacing with each passing second. Out of the haze, an Ogre appeared, its massive body hurtling through the air like a boulder fired from a siege engine. The ground trembled as the creature landed just short of the barrier, its weight sending a shockwave through the earth. The beast staggered for a moment, its confusion evident, but then its glowing eyes locked onto the mages. With a roar that shook the battlefield, it charged forward, swinging a tree-trunk-sized club. The barrier flickered dangerously as the club struck, its light dimming under the sheer force of the blow. Gerhardt gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face. "This can''t hold much longer!" a younger mage cried out, their voice laced with panic. Another whoosh cut through the air. This time, four Orcs flew toward them, their bodies twisting unnaturally as they soared. The group barely had time to react before the creatures crashed into the barrier from different angles, their weapons smashing against the weakened shield. Cracks spread across the magical dome like fractured glass. Gerhardt''s eyes darted frantically, searching for a solution. "Hold it together! Just a little longer!" he barked. But the assault didn''t let up. From the smoke came another Ogre, larger and more terrifying than the last. It slammed into the ground with such force that the earth split beneath its feet. Without hesitation, the beast lunged forward, ramming into the barrier with its immense shoulders. The shield shattered. The explosion of magical energy knocked Gerhardt and the mages to the ground, their protective spells disintegrating under the Ogre''s relentless assault. "Regroup!" Gerhardt shouted, scrambling to his feet. But even as he spoke, the sound of another tackle¡ªdeeper, heavier¡ªechoed through the battlefield. The smoke churned violently as a hulking shadow emerged. It was another Ogre, its grotesque frame towering over the remnants of the human force. Its charge was slower, deliberate, but the sheer weight of its movements made the ground quake with every step. "Brace yourselves!" Gerhardt yelled, raising his staff. The Ogre plowed into the group, its massive arms outstretched. The impact sent two mages flying, their bodies colliding with broken wagons and debris. One screamed in agony as their arm bent at an unnatural angle; the other lay motionless, their head slumped to the side. The remaining mages scrambled to their feet, their faces pale with terror. And then it happened again. Your journey continues with empire Out of the smoke came another tackle. This time, it was faster, more brutal, as an Ogre twice the size of the previous one barreled into the group. The beast''s roar drowned out the mages'' cries as it slammed into them with devastating force. Gerhardt was thrown backward, his body skidding across the dirt. His vision blurred as pain wracked his body, but he forced himself to stand, his staff trembling in his grasp. "They''re toying with us," he whispered, horror dawning on his face. The cycle repeated. Orcs were hurled like projectiles, followed by Ogres, their tackles becoming more destructive with each wave. The longer it went on, the more devastating the attacks became. Each tackle was a calculated blow, targeting their dwindling numbers with ruthless precision. The ground was littered with debris and bodies, the air thick with smoke and the stench of blood. Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed over the battlefield. It was another Ogre, larger and more terrifying than anything they''d faced. The beast roared, its deep voice reverberating through the chaos, and then it charged. Gerhardt barely had time to react before the colossal creature tackled him directly, its immense weight crushing his magical shield like paper. Pain exploded through his chest as he was thrown backward, colliding with a jagged rock. Coughing up blood, he looked up at the towering figure, his vision swimming. "This¡­ this can''t be how it ends," he muttered, his voice weak. But the Ogre wasn''t done. It raised its massive fists, ready to deliver the killing blow. The battlefield was an unrelenting storm of chaos, and Gerhardt, along with the five remaining mages, was barely holding on. Their once-pristine robes were scorched and torn, their faces marked with exhaustion and desperation. The relentless assault from the Orcs and Ogres had pushed them to their limits, and yet, something more sinister was beginning to unfold. The Ogre that had been tackling them with devastating force appeared once again. Emerging from the thick smoke, its monstrous frame loomed larger than life. Its skin was dark green, mottled with scars and streaks of glowing veins that pulsed with an eerie light. The beast bellowed, its guttural roar sending shivers through even the most stalwart of the mages. "There it is again!" one of the younger mages cried, their voice trembling. "It''s the same one! That Ogre¡ªit''s not like the others!" Gerhardt''s sharp eyes narrowed as he studied the beast. His mind, despite the turmoil, was sharp enough to piece together the pattern. "That''s it¡­" he muttered under his breath, clutching his staff tightly. "It''s only one! The others¡­ they''re distractions!" The realization spread through the group like wildfire. "They''ve been using the other Ogres to bait us, to keep us occupied," another mage said, his voice edged with both fear and understanding. "Then let''s deal with it!" Gerhardt snapped, his commanding voice cutting through the din. "Prepare yourselves! Channel everything into stopping this one. No more distractions!" The mages nodded, their resolve hardening. Together, they began chanting in unison, weaving a complex spell designed to trap and neutralize the relentless Ogre. Their combined magic formed a glowing net of ethereal chains, shimmering in hues of blue and gold. The air around them crackled with energy as the spell grew in strength. But before they could unleash their counterattack, a sound erupted from the smoke¡ªa deep, resonant voice that carried a chilling power. "Nuclear¡­" S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The word cut through the chaos like a blade. It was spoken with such authority, such venom, that the mages froze momentarily. "What¡­ what was that?" one mage stammered, his hands trembling. Gerhardt''s eyes darted frantically across the battlefield, searching for the source. The smoke churned violently, obscuring everything beyond a few feet. Then came the second word, louder, more menacing: "Devastation¡­" The voice reverberated across the battlefield, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. The mages'' spells faltered as a sense of dread crept into their hearts. "Stay focused!" Gerhardt barked, though his own voice betrayed his unease. And then, the final word thundered through the battlefield, echoing like the roar of an ancient beast: "SPOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!" Chapter 273 Lucky The very air seemed to vibrate with the force of the shout, and an instant later, the battlefield erupted into chaos.Out of the swirling smoke, five streams of raw elemental energy shot toward the mages. Each one was different, representing a primal force of nature. A blazing pillar of fire roared forward, its heat searing even through the thick barrier. A torrent of water followed, twisting and writhing like a serpent as it crashed against their defenses. Jagged spikes of earth erupted from the ground, hurtling toward them with lethal precision. A crackling bolt of lightning arced through the air, its blinding light momentarily illuminating the battlefield. And finally, a swirling vortex of wind howled toward them, its sharp edges cutting through the smoke like knives. The attacks came with terrifying speed and precision, giving the mages no time to react. "Shield!" Gerhardt screamed, his voice breaking under the strain. The mages poured every ounce of their power into reinforcing their barrier. The glowing dome of energy flared brilliantly as it absorbed the onslaught, but it was clear the strain was too much. Cracks began to spread across its surface, each one accompanied by a sickening crack that echoed like a death knell. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The fire struck first, its searing heat causing the barrier to waver and dim. Discover exclusive content at empire The water followed, smashing against the weakened dome and spreading fractures like spiderwebs. The earth spikes shattered through the outer layers, embedding themselves in the magical field with a series of explosive impacts. The lightning struck next, its raw energy coursing through the cracks and sending shockwaves through the mages. And then came the wind. The vortex collided with the barrier, its razor-sharp edges slicing through the remaining defenses with terrifying ease. The barrier exploded outward in a shower of sparks and light, leaving the mages exposed and vulnerable. The force of the destruction knocked the group off their feet. Gerhardt hit the ground hard, his staff clattering away from him. Pain shot through his body as he scrambled to his knees, his vision blurred and his ears ringing. "We''re exposed!" one of the mages cried, their voice filled with terror. Another mage tried to conjure a new shield, but their spell fizzled out, their mana reserves completely drained. Gerhardt''s heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to stand. His eyes darted toward the smoke, and he knew¡ªwhatever had unleashed that attack wasn''t finished. "That Ogre is having fun¡­" he whispered, his voice barely audible. The ground trembled once more, and Gerhardt felt the air grow heavier, thick with an oppressive energy that made it hard to breathe. From the smoke came a shadow, larger than anything they had faced thus far. It moved with purpose, each step shaking the earth, and Gerhardt''s blood ran cold. "No¡­" he muttered, gripping his staff tightly. The battlefield, now a wasteland of smoldering craters and shattered earth, lay heavy under the weight of silence. Smoke still clung to the air, swirling and choking the dim sunlight as if the sky itself mourned the devastation. Among the wreckage, Gerhardt and the five remaining mages struggled to rise. Their bodies were battered, their magical reserves depleted, and their spirits hanging by a thread. They had endured wave after wave of assault, only to now feel the oppressive weight of inevitability closing in on them. Suddenly, the oppressive silence was broken. From the smoke emerged a familiar figure¡ªthe Ogre. Its massive, hulking frame towered over the battlefield, each step it took reverberating like a drumbeat of doom. Its grotesque, battle-scarred body seemed to glow faintly, its veins pulsing with unnatural energy. But it wasn''t just the Ogre''s physical presence that filled the air with dread¡ªit was its expression. It grinned. Not a feral, mindless grin, but something calculated, something terrifyingly human. The Ogre''s voice boomed, low and guttural, dripping with menace. "Lucky¡­" it growled, each syllable drawn out, mocking. Its glowing eyes scanned the broken mages, relishing their suffering. "Three minutes¡­ are¡­ up." The words cut through the mages like a blade. Gerhardt''s head snapped up, his eyes wide with both horror and disbelief. The younger mages shivered uncontrollably, clutching at their staffs like lifelines, their lips trembling as they muttered incoherent prayers. The Ogre didn''t wait for a reply. With a sickeningly casual gait, it turned and walked back into the thick smoke, its hulking silhouette disappearing into the haze. For a brief moment, there was nothing but the sound of the mages'' ragged breathing and the faint crackle of distant fires. And then, BANG! The smoke exploded outward in a violent gust, as if the very air itself had been punched by an unseen force. The sheer intensity of the blast blew back everything¡ªdebris, ashes, and even the battered mages themselves. The winds roared with the fury of a tempest, revealing the battlefield in stark, brutal clarity. In the epicenter of the cleared smoke stood Volk. His figure, no longer obscured, was unmistakable. Gone was the towering radioactive form that had struck fear into their hearts. He was back in his Orc form, his muscular physique gleaming with a sheen of sweat and blood. His glowing red eyes pierced through the battlefield like twin embers of a raging fire. His aura was no less overwhelming, however; it was a condensed storm of power, as if all the devastation he had wrought had coalesced into this singular, terrifying presence. Volk tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. Then, to the shock of everyone, he bowed. It wasn''t a mocking gesture or a half-hearted dip of the head¡ªit was a genuine, respectful bow, his arm crossing over his chest with the precision of a soldier showing reverence to a worthy opponent. "My apologies," Volk said, his voice polite, almost cordial, but underlined with a chilling undertone. "May I ask¡­" He straightened, his gaze locking onto Gerhardt and his surviving comrades. "Can we take your lives now?" The mages stared, dumbstruck. They were too stunned, too exhausted, to respond. Gerhardt opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out¡ªonly a hoarse gasp, as if the weight of the entire situation had crushed his ability to form coherent thoughts. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. Volk''s crimson eyes glinted with dark amusement as he raised his hand, making a small, almost dismissive signal. At once, the battlefield erupted into chaos. From all directions, Ogres and Orcs surged forward. Their roars echoed like thunderclaps, their footsteps pounding the earth with relentless ferocity. The ground trembled beneath the sheer weight of the charging horde. "No¡­" Gerhardt whispered, his voice cracking. The first wave hit like a battering ram. An Ogre, wielding a massive club fashioned from a broken tree trunk, swung it with bone-crushing force. The mages scrambled to conjure what little barriers they could, but their defenses were like glass against a sledgehammer. Orcs swarmed in, their blades gleaming wickedly in the fractured sunlight, their war cries drowning out the desperate shouts of the mages. Despite their injuries, Gerhardt and the others fought valiantly. Fireballs, ice shards, and lightning bolts flew from their staffs, taking down swathes of the enemy. But for every Orc or Ogre that fell, two more took its place. The sheer numbers, combined with the ferocity of the assault, were overwhelming. Amidst the chaos, Volk stood still, watching the carnage unfold with a detached, almost clinical interest. "They were strong," he mused to himself, his tone soft, almost regretful. "But strength is not enough." As the mages'' screams filled the air, Volk let out a slow, deep breath. His expression softened¡ªnot with pity, but with satisfaction. This, he thought, was the natural order of things. And soon, there would be nothing left to oppose him. Chapter 274 Fall As Gerhardt stood in the midst of the chaos, his breath ragged and his staff trembling in his hands, memories began to flood his mind like a rushing river.Every swing of an Ogre''s club, every roar of an Orc, every flicker of his faltering mana shield seemed to peel back the layers of his life, exposing the moments he had buried deep within his heart. He remembered his youth, a time when dreams were larger than life, and the world felt boundless. Back then, he was a scrawny boy with a spark of mana barely perceptible, even to himself. The other apprentices at the academy mocked him mercilessly. "Gerhardt the Hollow," they had called him, laughing at his inability to even light a candle with magic. While others soared through their lessons, he floundered, his mana reserves stubbornly refusing to grow. But Gerhardt had never been one to give up. He devoted himself entirely to the study of mana, pouring over ancient tomes until his eyes burned and practicing incantations until his voice gave out. Years turned into decades, and while his peers had long since surpassed him, achieving heights of power he could only dream of, he had finally clawed his way to the first stage of magical mastery. The memory of that moment was still vivid. He had cried that day, tears of triumph and bitterness mixed together. It had taken him half his life to reach a point most mages achieved in their teens. But it wasn''t enough. With a ferocity born of desperation, he pushed himself harder, enduring countless failures, injuries, and setbacks. Slowly, agonizingly, he reached the second stage. By then, his hair had begun to gray, and the spark of youth had faded from his eyes. Yet, his determination burned brighter than ever. And now, after a lifetime of struggle, he had finally attained the third stage¡ªa pinnacle of power he had once thought unreachable. When he achieved it, he had felt invincible, like a titan among mortals. When Baron Geisler, the ruler of this territory, had perished in battle, Gerhardt hadn''t mourned. He had seen it as an opportunity. "The Baron fell because he was careless," Gerhardt had thought. "But I am stronger. I will show this world the might of a third-stage mage!" He had thrown himself into this campaign with reckless enthusiasm, eager to finally prove himself. He had envisioned himself cutting down hordes of enemies, his power unmatched, his name whispered in awe. But now¡­ As an Ogre''s massive club smashed into his barrier, sending him skidding backward, Gerhardt felt his confidence crumble. Enjoy new tales from empire His chest heaved as he struggled to maintain the protective spell, his mana reserves dwindling faster than he could replenish them. "What is this?" he thought, his eyes darting to the swarm of Orcs and Ogres that surrounded him. "How can this be happening? I am in the third stage! I worked my whole life for this power!" An Orc lunged at him, its blade glinting wickedly in the firelight. Gerhardt raised his staff, summoning a blast of fire that incinerated the creature mid-air. But no sooner had the Orc fallen than another took its place. "These are just Orcs!" he thought desperately, his mind racing. "Simple beasts! Brutes! How can they be overpowering me?!" His eyes flicked to Volk, the Orc leader, standing at the edge of the battlefield. There was something terrifyingly composed about him, as if he were orchestrating the entire fight with the precision of a master tactician. "An Orc," Gerhardt thought, his heart sinking. "A mere Orc¡­ outmaneuvering me? Overpowering me? No¡­ it can''t be!" The realization hit him like a physical blow. He wasn''t invincible. His decades of struggle, his hard-won power¡ªnone of it mattered in the face of this overwhelming force. And for the first time in his life, Gerhardt felt a bone-deep fear he couldn''t shake. The battlefield roared with chaos as explosions of magic and the guttural cries of Orcs and Ogres filled the air. Gerhardt''s heart pounded like a war drum, his once-proud robes now tattered and scorched, his mana reserves dangerously low. He gritted his teeth, clutching his staff tightly, trying to stave off the panic that threatened to consume him. Amid the mayhem, a sudden cry rose above the din¡ªa voice filled with pain and despair. Gerhardt turned his weary gaze toward the source, and his heart sank. The mage who rode the wingless wyvern, with its molten lava-like scales, was in dire straits. The wyvern flapped its tattered wings weakly, embers flickering from its cracked hide. Its once-majestic form now bore deep gashes, blackened burns, and signs of fatigue beyond measure. Its rider, the mage cloaked in crimson, barely clung to the saddle, his staff dangling limply in one hand. The mage tried to raise his staff, summoning a desperate burst of flame toward an advancing Ogre. The fire surged forward, a brilliant, defiant arc of heat and fury, but it lacked the strength it once carried. The Ogre shrugged it off, roaring as it continued its relentless march. The wyvern let out a low, mournful growl, its body trembling as it struggled to stay aloft. Its wings flapped erratically, each beat weaker than the last. The mage, sensing the creature''s imminent collapse, pulled on its reins and shouted, "Hold on! Just a little longer!" But the wyvern could no longer comply. Its molten scales dimmed as though its fiery core was flickering out. With a keening wail, it began to descend. The sight was agonizingly slow, each agonized beat of its wings a futile attempt to regain altitude. The mage gripped the reins tightly, his bloodied face set in grim determination, but his own injuries left him powerless to aid his mount. Gerhardt watched helplessly as the wyvern''s descent turned into a spiraling plummet. It struck the battlefield with a deafening crash, molten scales flaring one last time before dimming completely. The ground trembled beneath the impact, and a plume of dust and embers rose into the sky. The mage, thrown from his saddle, hit the ground with a sickening thud. His staff rolled away from his limp hand, and his crimson robes, once a symbol of power, were now torn and bloodied. For a moment, there was silence. Gerhardt wanted to look away, but his eyes remained fixed on the fallen mage. The man stirred weakly, raising his head to meet the oncoming horde of Orcs and Ogres. His face was etched with despair, but also a flicker of defiance. He reached for his staff, his trembling fingers brushing against it, only for an Orc to stomp down, shattering it into splinters. The mage let out a guttural cry of anguish, his defiance snuffed out like a candle. The wyvern, still barely alive, let out a final, pitiful growl. It attempted to shield its master with its massive, battered body, curling around him protectively. But the Orcs showed no mercy. They surged forward, hacking at the creature with brutal efficiency until it moved no more. Gerhardt felt a chill run through him as he watched this macabre display. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The fire that had once burned so brightly in his fellow mage''s eyes was extinguished, leaving only an empty, hollow gaze that stared into the abyss. He turned his head away, his breathing shallow and uneven. "This¡­ this can''t be happening," he murmured under his breath. His mind raced with questions, his chest tightening as he struggled to process what he had just witnessed. A third-stage mage like Gerhardt himself, a master of flame, reduced to nothing. A wyvern of molten majesty, crushed like an insect beneath the relentless tide of Orcs and Ogres. He clutched his staff tighter, his knuckles whitening. His body trembled¡ªnot from exhaustion, but from the cold grip of dread that now coiled around his heart. Is this the beginning of the end? he wondered, his eyes darting across the battlefield, where the tide of battle was rapidly turning against them. The battlefield descended into pure chaos, and Gerhardt could only watch in horror as one by one, his comrades fell, their once-mighty magical beasts brought low by the relentless assault of the Orcs and Ogres. The mage astride the crystalline stag with glowing blue antlers was the next to falter. The stag, its shimmering form a beacon of arcane elegance, had been tirelessly evading attacks, its crystalline hooves leaving trails of frost in the air as it danced away from danger. But even its grace and speed couldn''t save it from the tide of brutality. An Ogre hurled a massive stone that shattered against the stag''s flank, sending shards of crystal scattering like broken glass. The beast let out a haunting cry, its antlers dimming as frost spread across its body, not from its own magic, but from the life force ebbing away. The mage on its back tried to channel a protective barrier, but an Orc''s spear tore through the shield and found its mark in the stag''s side. The mage cried out, leaping from the saddle as the stag collapsed, its once-radiant form dull and lifeless. Before the mage could recover, a group of Orcs descended upon him, their savage blades gleaming. His desperate incantations were drowned out by their war cries as they ended him without mercy. Then, the serpentine creature with iridescent scales¡ªits master a mage cloaked in robes of shifting, opalescent hues¡ªbegan to falter. The beast had been gliding effortlessly through the air, its movements hypnotic as it dodged attack after attack. But its grace was shattered when a massive club, swung by an enraged Ogre, caught it mid-flight. The serpentine creature let out a piercing screech as it was flung into the ground, its luminous scales flickering erratically. The mage on its back tumbled to the dirt, clutching a shimmering orb as he attempted to summon a counterattack. But the Orcs were already upon him. His serpentine companion tried to coil protectively around him, its body shimmering with one final burst of energy. Yet, the assault was too fierce. The mage screamed as he was dragged from the beast''s coils and into the waiting blades of his enemies. The hulking feline with glowing green eyes and its rider were next. The feline had been a force of nature, its claws rending through Ogres and Orcs alike with terrifying precision. Its rider, a mage wreathed in emerald light, had fought valiantly, weaving spells of devastation that tore through the horde. But even this duo couldn''t withstand the unending waves of attackers. The feline, its sleek body covered in deep gashes, growled weakly as it faced down a trio of Ogres. One of them raised a jagged club and brought it down with a sickening crunch, shattering the beast''s spine. The mage, his emerald aura flickering, screamed in fury as he unleashed one final spell¡ªa massive explosion of green light that vaporized the closest attackers. But the effort left him drained, and he collapsed to his knees. The remaining Orcs wasted no time, descending upon him with brutal efficiency. Finally, the mage who rode the pitch-black arachnid met his end. The arachnid''s clattering legs had carried it through the battlefield with eerie speed, its gleaming eyes scanning for threats as its master directed devastating attacks from above. But its movements slowed as arrows and spears pierced its carapace, dark ichor spilling from its wounds. The mage tried to retreat, his voice trembling as he chanted incantations to shield himself. But the arachnid let out a final, ghastly hiss before collapsing, its legs twitching in death throes. The mage, now exposed, was left defenseless. He tried to summon a vortex of shadow to obscure his escape, but a massive Orc axe cleaved through the spell and into his chest, silencing him forever. One by one, Gerhardt''s comrades and their mighty beasts were brought down, their efforts to stem the tide crushed under the weight of Volk''s relentless horde. Gerhardt stood frozen, his heart sinking further with every loss. This is the end, he thought, his hands trembling as he clutched his staff. He could feel the despair creeping into his soul, a cold, suffocating grip that threatened to overwhelm him. Chapter 275 Tough old mage Gerhardt, bloodied and battered, stumbled across the battlefield, every step a testament to his desperation.His staff, a once-pristine artifact of power, was now splintered and smeared with grime, shaking in his trembling hands. His mana reserves were nearly depleted, and his body screamed in agony from the countless wounds carved into his flesh. Yet, his eyes burned with a fierce determination. "I won''t die here. Not like this. Not to them." His voice was hoarse, barely audible above the chaos around him. As he fell to his knees, surrounded by the smoldering ruins of his comrades and their fallen mounts, Gerhardt made a choice that would haunt the battlefield for eternity. With trembling fingers, he reached into his blood-soaked robes and pulled out a rune-carved dagger, its blade gleaming faintly with forbidden magic. Desperate times call for desperate measures, he thought grimly, clutching the dagger tightly. "Mana needs a price," he whispered to himself, his voice laced with both dread and resolve. "If the price is my own flesh, so be it." Without hesitation, he pressed the dagger against his left forearm and carved a deep, precise line into his skin. Blood poured from the wound, but as it did, an eerie blue glow radiated from the cut. Gerhardt winced but continued, his lips muttering incantations through the pain. The runes on the dagger flared to life, consuming the spilled blood and channeling it into his veins, reigniting his mana reserves with a surge of raw, volatile energy. His left arm, trembling from the strain, began to wither slightly, the flesh receding as if devoured by an unseen force. But Gerhardt ignored the pain. He raised his staff, now glowing with unstable magic, and unleashed a torrent of elemental energy at the nearest group of Orcs. Fire, ice, and lightning collided in a devastating explosion, incinerating the attackers and leaving a smoldering crater in their wake. But it wasn''t enough. Gerhardt staggered forward, his body screaming in protest. The loss of blood was making him dizzy, but he gritted his teeth and pressed the dagger against his left thigh next. This time, the cut was deeper, the glow brighter, and the pain sharper. His leg immediately felt weaker, the muscles shrinking as the life force was drained from them. "More... I need more!" he growled, his voice growing more feral as desperation overtook reason. Another spell erupted from his staff, this time a cascading wave of molten earth that surged across the battlefield, swallowing a dozen Ogres in its molten embrace. The screams of his enemies filled the air, but so did the cries of his own body, which was rapidly deteriorating with every spell cast. Gerhardt''s right hand was shaking violently now, the dagger barely steady as he brought it to his own shoulder. This time, the cut wasn''t precise; it was jagged, brutal. Blood sprayed everywhere as he cried out in agony, the mana pouring into him like a flood threatening to burst its dam. A massive explosion of energy erupted from his staff, disintegrating an entire battalion of Orcs and sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Even Volk, perched atop a mound of destruction, turned his head toward the light. "Still clinging to life, are we?" Volk muttered, a cruel grin spreading across his face. But Gerhardt didn''t notice. His world was a haze of pain and power, his mind fractured by the overwhelming strain. He could barely stand, his body now frail and emaciated, his once-proud figure reduced to a gaunt shadow of itself. As he stumbled, he whispered through bloodied lips, "If my life is the price... then take it all." He carved a final rune into his chest, the dagger falling from his hands as he collapsed to his knees. The rune glowed brighter than any before it, consuming what little strength he had left. He raised his staff one last time, aiming it toward Volk and the horde. "I... won''t... fall... alone!" The battlefield erupted in an enormous explosion of raw magic, a cataclysmic burst that threatened to consume everything in its radius. Gerhardt, his body barely holding together, let out one final cry of defiance as the light enveloped him. As the explosion''s light began to fade and the deafening roar dissipated into echoes across the battlefield, a figure emerged from the smoke unscathed. Volk stepped forward, his muscular form towering over the ruined landscape. His radioactive aura pulsed faintly, shielding him from the devastation Gerhardt had unleashed. A wicked grin spread across his face as he looked down at the crumpled figure of the old mage, barely alive and kneeling amidst the smoldering remains of his futile sacrifice. "Is that all, old man?" Volk''s voice was laced with venomous mockery, deep and resonant, cutting through the silence like a blade. He took a step closer, his boots crushing the charred remains of the battlefield beneath them. "All that fanfare, all that bloodshed, just for... this?" Gerhardt, trembling and barely able to lift his head, glared up at Volk through bloodshot eyes. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him, a wet gurgle escaping his lips instead. Volk crouched down, his glowing eyes narrowing as he tilted his head. "You carved up your own body for this pathetic display of power. And for what? To burn a few Orcs? Kill a handful of Ogres? Pathetic." S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He stood again, his mocking laughter booming across the battlefield. "You call yourself a third-stage mage? A warrior of magic? Look at you now. You''re nothing more than a husk. A sad, shriveled relic of a dying world." Volk''s words were like daggers, each one stabbing into Gerhardt''s pride. The old mage gritted his teeth, forcing his head to rise a fraction higher. "Oh, what''s that?" Volk leaned in closer, cupping a hand to his ear theatrically. "Are you trying to say something? Go on, mage. Let the world hear your dying words." Gerhardt spat blood, his trembling hand grasping at his broken staff. He managed to rasp, "You... won''t... win..." Volk roared with laughter, throwing his head back. "Won''t win? Do you see this battlefield, old man? Your comrades are dead. Your precious mounts are corpses. And you..." He pointed at Gerhardt, his finger glowing with a faint radioactive light, "are already halfway in the grave." The towering Orc circled him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey. "You thought you could stop me with your ''sacrifices''? That you could harm me with your desperate little spells? I''ve faced gods, old man. You''re not even a worthy distraction." Volk stopped behind Gerhardt, placing a massive hand on the mage''s frail shoulder. The heat of his touch burned through the mage''s tattered robes, eliciting a weak groan of pain. Explore stories at empire "But don''t worry," Volk whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I''ll make this quick. After all, you''ve suffered enough. And I¡ª" His grin widened, exposing rows of sharp teeth. "¡ªam nothing if not merciful." With a sharp shove, Volk sent Gerhardt sprawling to the ground, his body too weak to resist. He stood over him, raising his glowing fist high into the air. "Any last words, old man? Or should I just end this pitiful charade?" Volk''s grin faltered slightly as Gerhardt''s battered form began to glow faintly, an eerie light emanating from deep within his chest. The old mage''s breathing was ragged, and his body trembled with exhaustion, but his eyes... his eyes burned with a defiant determination. Without a word, Gerhardt clutched his broken staff and drove its splintered end into the ground. The glow intensified, spreading outwards in a rippling wave. A translucent shield of radiant energy materialized around him, shimmering like molten glass. Volk''s radioactive aura pulsed as he took a step back, his instincts warning him of the sudden shift. He frowned, his mocking demeanor replaced by a wary curiosity. "Oh? What''s this? You''re still clinging to life, old man?" Gerhardt didn''t reply. His lips moved in silent incantation, his focus unyielding. Sweat poured down his face as veins of light crawled up his arms, converging at his trembling hands. The shield around him thickened, glowing brighter with each passing second. Volk narrowed his eyes. "You think hiding behind that little bubble will save you? It won''t. I''ll shatter it just like I shattered your comrades!" He lunged forward, his fist glowing with a sickly green light as he slammed it into the barrier. BOOOOM! The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the battlefield, kicking up dust and debris. But when the dust settled, the shield stood firm, its surface unmarred. Volk growled, his muscles tensing. He raised both fists, slamming them down together in a devastating double blow. CRAAAACK! The ground beneath the shield splintered, but the barrier absorbed the attack with an almost taunting resilience. Inside the shield, Gerhardt''s focus never wavered. His internal struggle was immense; he had sacrificed something critical within himself¡ªa fragment of his very essence, perhaps his lifeforce or his mana core. He could feel his body weakening further, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he funneled every ounce of his remaining power into the spell he was conjuring. Volk snarled, slamming his fists repeatedly against the barrier. "What are you doing in there, old man? Hiding? Cowering? You''re only delaying the inevitable!" The Orc leader paused, his chest heaving with frustration. He could feel it now¡ªan ominous energy building within the shield. It wasn''t an attack, not yet. It was something... defensive, protective. Volk tilted his head, his glowing eyes narrowing. "Ah, I see. You''re not attacking me. You''re stalling." A slow grin crept back onto his face as he crossed his arms, standing tall before the glowing barrier. "Fine. Build your little defense, conjure your little spell. I''ll wait. And when you''re done..." He leaned closer, his voice dripping with menace, "I''ll make sure to destroy every last piece of you." Inside the shield, Gerhardt''s voice finally broke the silence, though it was faint, barely audible above the hum of the magic. "I may not win... but I will ensure you don''t leave this battlefield unscathed." Volk''s grin faltered again, just for a moment. Something in Gerhardt''s tone¡ªan unyielding resolve, a hint of finality¡ªsent a shiver through him. "Do your worst," Volk muttered, stepping back. His fists clenched, his radioactive aura flaring wildly as he prepared for whatever the old man was planning. Chapter 276 Being cursed The translucent shield around Gerhardt pulsed with increasing intensity, its glow now so bright that it bathed the entire battlefield in its eerie light.Inside, Gerhardt''s body trembled violently, his legs barely holding him up as the toll of his sacrifice became evident. His once robust frame was withering away; his skin had taken on a pallid, dry texture, cracking in places as if it were turning to ash. His breath came in shallow, labored gasps, each exhale weaker than the last. The radiant veins of light coursing through his body grew brighter, almost as if his very essence was being siphoned into the spell he was conjuring. His gaunt face twisted with a mixture of pain and determination, his lips still moving in silent incantation. Outside the barrier, Volk watched with a mix of amusement and annoyance. He could feel the raw power building within Gerhardt, and while it intrigued him, it also set him on edge. He took a step back, the glow of his radioactive aura clashing against the mage''s barrier. "Look at you," Volk sneered, his voice laced with mockery. "You''re falling apart, old man. Whatever you''re trying to do, it''s killing you faster than I ever could." Gerhardt didn''t respond. His focus was absolute, his frail hands moving with painstaking slowness as he directed the growing energy. His staff, now little more than a splintered relic, glowed with the same ominous light, resonating with the barrier as if it were an extension of his soul. The battlefield seemed to hold its breath. Even the Orcs and Ogres who had been rampaging moments earlier had paused, their attention drawn to the blinding light emanating from Gerhardt''s shield. The air itself felt heavy, charged with an oppressive energy that made even Volk''s hardened warriors uneasy. "Whatever you''re doing in there, it won''t be enough," Volk growled, his voice rising above the hum of the barrier. "I''ve faced stronger enemies than you. You''re just an old fool clinging to life!" Gerhardt''s eyes flickered open at those words, their dim glow locking onto Volk. He looked frail, broken, and yet, there was an undeniable fire in his gaze¡ªa burning resolve that refused to die. "You speak... as if you''ve already won," Gerhardt rasped, his voice barely audible but filled with defiance. The light within the barrier began to shift, condensing into a singular, pulsating orb at Gerhardt''s chest. The energy was unstable, crackling with raw, elemental force as it threatened to break free. Gerhardt''s body continued to deteriorate, his skin now paper-thin and his movements sluggish, but his hands remained steady as he directed the final stages of his spell. Volk''s grin faltered, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He could feel the magnitude of the magic being unleashed, and it was unlike anything he had encountered before. "Last chance, old man," Volk called out, his voice tinged with a hint of urgency. "Stop this now, and I might let you die quickly." Gerhardt ignored him, his lips moving one final time as he completed the incantation. The orb of energy at his chest flared brighter than the sun, its radiance overwhelming. And then, as the barrier began to crack and shatter, Gerhardt raised his trembling hands, aiming the massive, unstable energy directly at Volk. "This is for everything," he whispered, his voice a mere breath. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The scene ended with the shattering sound of the barrier collapsing and the blinding light of the energy release poised to unleash its fury upon the Orc leader. Gerhardt''s trembling hands finally released the pulsating orb of energy. It tore through the air with a deafening roar, a beam of radiant light so intense that it left streaks of afterimages in the sky. The ground beneath it split as the force of the blast rippled outward, creating shockwaves that hurled debris in every direction. Volk stood his ground, his massive, muscular form unflinching as the magical attack hurtled toward him. The energy struck him squarely in the chest, exploding into a blinding cascade of light and thunder. The battlefield was momentarily engulfed in a dazzling display of power, and everything seemed to pause, as though the entire world had held its breath. When the light finally subsided, Volk emerged from the smoke and debris, entirely unscathed. His imposing figure remained rooted where he had been, his radioactive aura shimmering faintly around him like a shield. His lips curled into a mocking grin as he raised a hand to dust off his chest, where the attack had landed harmlessly. "That''s it?" Volk''s deep voice rumbled with disdain, carrying across the battlefield. "That was your grand finale?" He barked out a laugh, the sound raw and guttural. "You wasted your body, your life, for that? Do you not see what I am?" He stepped forward, towering over the frail form of Gerhardt. The Orc leader gestured to his massive frame. "Spells like that don''t work on me. My body¡ªthis glorious body¡ªis saturated with magical resistance. It''s what makes me the apex predator in this forsaken realm. Every ounce of effort you put into that attack..." Volk leaned closer, his grin widening, "...was worthless." Gerhardt''s frail form wavered, his legs barely able to support him. His body looked like it would collapse at any moment, the toll of his sacrifice leaving him a husk of his former self. And yet, as Volk''s words rang out, the old man didn''t flinch. Instead, a faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on Gerhardt''s cracked lips. Volk''s mocking laughter faltered as he noticed the expression. He straightened, narrowing his glowing eyes at the human mage. "What are you smiling about?" Volk demanded, his voice sharp, the confidence in it flickering for the first time. Gerhardt didn''t reply. He simply stood there, barely alive, the faint smile refusing to leave his face. The scene ended with Volk''s towering form looming over the enigmatic, broken mage, a growing sense of unease creeping into the Orc leader''s mind. Volk took a step back as Gerhardt''s dry, cracked lips twisted into a crooked smile, and then, against all expectations, the frail old man began to laugh. It was not the laughter of a defeated man. It wasn''t the laughter of a broken mind. It was deliberate, guttural, and haunting¡ªa sound that echoed with defiance, even in the face of death itself. The laugh grew louder, reverberating across the battlefield like a taunt, making even Volk''s hardened warriors pause. The air grew heavier, as if the very land bore witness to something momentous. Gerhardt''s withered hand lifted weakly, pointing at Volk with a shaking finger, his grin widening. "Do you think... this is victory for you?" Gerhardt rasped, his voice hoarse but gaining strength as he spoke. "You stand there, mighty in your invulnerability, mocking me, mocking us all, believing you''re untouchable. You think I didn''t know my magic wouldn''t harm you? You think I didn''t know?" He coughed violently, spitting blood onto the ground, but his laughter didn''t waver. His words continued, each one dripping with venom. "Of course, I knew," Gerhardt hissed, his sunken eyes glowing with a spark of defiance. "I spent my entire life studying the arcane. I''ve read the tomes, dissected the spells, and tested every possibility. I knew your kind, Volk. I knew my magic wouldn''t touch that grotesque, magic-resistant body of yours. But magic¡­ isn''t all I learned." Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. The warriors around him exchanged uneasy glances, unsettled by the strange energy in the air. "You''ve won this battle, Orc," Gerhardt spat, his voice rising in intensity. "But your so-called triumph is a shallow one. Because what I''ve cast upon you isn''t a spell meant to harm you now. No, it''s something far worse. It''s a curse¡ªone that will chain you to this forest for the rest of your miserable existence!" Volk''s expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "A curse?" he repeated, the word laced with disbelief. "Yes, a curse," Gerhardt replied, his voice almost triumphant. "You''ll never leave this place, Volk. Do you hear me? Never! The moment you try to pass beyond these trees, this forest will rise against you. Every magical beast, every spirit, every living entity within this cursed land will turn its fury upon you. And do you know why?" Gerhardt leaned forward, his skeletal frame trembling as he glared up at Volk. "Because you''ve claimed dominion here, haven''t you? You''ve enslaved the creatures of this realm, warped them to your will, corrupted their very nature. And now, they''ll see you as nothing more than a threat, an invader, a blight upon their existence!" Volk''s muscles tensed as Gerhardt''s words sank in. The towering Orc shifted his stance, suddenly feeling the oppressive presence of the forest around him. The trees seemed darker, the shadows deeper, as though the very land listened to the mage''s curse. "You''ve won nothing, Volk," Gerhardt sneered, his laughter turning bitter. "You''ll rule this cursed forest, yes. You''ll be the king of your decaying throne, but you''ll never move beyond it. Never!" His voice cracked, yet it still held a chilling power. "You''ve traded freedom for dominance, power for imprisonment. This is your fate, Volk! The mighty Orc lord, caged by the very forest he sought to conquer!" Volk growled, his fists clenching, but Gerhardt continued undeterred. "And do you know the best part?" Gerhardt''s voice dropped to a whisper, forcing Volk to lean closer to hear him. "This curse doesn''t care how strong you are, how many armies you command, or how invulnerable your flesh may be. It''s not about power. It''s about balance. The forest itself will see to it that you remain here, forever, until the day you wither away, just like me." A shudder passed through Gerhardt''s body as his strength began to fade, but his smile remained. "Enjoy your victory, Orc. Savor it. Because it''s the last freedom you''ll ever know." As the last word left his lips, Gerhardt''s body convulsed, the final reserves of his life force expended. His skin, now as dry and brittle as ancient parchment, cracked and crumbled. His eyes dulled, the faint glow of magic extinguished. With one last exhale, his body slumped forward, lifeless and drained, collapsing into a heap of ash and bone. The battlefield fell silent. Volk stared at the remains of his adversary, the weight of Gerhardt''s words settling over him like a suffocating fog. His warriors watched their leader, waiting for his response, as the shadows of the forest seemed to stretch closer, almost as if they were watching too. Chapter 277 New Mission System Notification:Ding! Host power recovered! | Three minutes have been extended to twenty-five minutes for the manifestation of your Radioactive Form. | Volk''s triumphant laughter boomed across the battlefield. GURAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! His massive fists pounded against his chest, the sound echoing like thunder as his warriors roared in celebration. His hulking frame trembled with excitement as his power surged through his veins, his radioactive aura flickering like a storm. Then¡ª Ding! Another system notification appeared before Volk, halting his laughter. New Mission Alert! Objective: Conquer the Path of Absolute forest Domination! Volk leaned closer, his glowing eyes scanning the details as the system unfurled the list of seven missions: 1. Eradicate the Forest Beasts of the Northernn Valley of Orcs. Description: Within the confines of this cursed forest, creatures of immense power have been stirred by Gerhardt''s curse. These beasts have been imbued with ancient magic and an unnatural bloodlust, driven to eliminate the Orc lord and his horde. Your mission is to locate their dens, defeat their leaders, and reclaim dominance over the forest. Be wary: some creatures are unlike anything you''ve faced before¡ªmasters of camouflage, aerial assault, and venomous attacks that can bypass even your radioactive resistance. Their cunning knows no bounds, and their combined strength rivals even your enhanced form. Each victory will weaken the curse''s hold on you, but failure will mean endless waves of predators hunting you down relentlessly. 2. Harvest the Core of the Ancient Tree of Souls Description: Deep in the forest lies the Ancient Tree of Souls, an entity that serves as the heart of the forest''s magical energy. This tree has awakened to your presence and sees you as a plague to be eradicated. The tree''s core contains a unique magical essence capable of unraveling parts of the curse. However, reaching the core will be no simple task. Its roots stretch across miles, summoning forest spirits, enchanted roots, and guardian treants that can regenerate endlessly. Even worse, the tree''s essence emits waves of energy capable of dispelling your radioactive form for brief intervals, leaving you vulnerable. Extracting the core will require immense strategy, speed, and resilience. 3. Subjugate the Rebel Orc Tribes Description: Not all Orcs are loyal to Volk. Several splinter groups within the forest, sensing the curse''s weakening of your control, have risen in rebellion. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. These tribes are led by former chieftains who have tapped into the forest''s magic to bolster their strength. They view you as a usurper and have allied themselves with the beasts of Northern forest of Orzaroth. To solidify your dominance, you must eliminate their leaders or force them into submission through battle. Beware their guerrilla tactics, traps, and overwhelming numbers. Their leaders possess unique magical abilities bestowed upon them by the forest spirits. Locate the Shard of Temporal Reversal Description: Somewhere within Northern forest of Orzaroth lies the Shard of Temporal Reversal, a relic capable of turning back time for a limited duration. This shard can potentially undo the curse, but it comes at a cost. Acquiring the shard requires traversing the Caverns of Endless Time, a labyrinth filled with illusions, temporal anomalies, and creatures that exist outside of time itself. Each wrong step could trap you in an endless loop, forcing you to relive past failures indefinitely. Success will demand cunning, patience, and an unyielding will. 5. Build the Bloodforge of the Undying. Description: To overcome the curse, you must construct the Bloodforge of the Undying, a legendary structure that amplifies your power and binds the forest''s magic to your will. To build this forge, you must collect rare materials scattered across the Northern forest of Orzaroth: volcanic ore from the Molten Crags, spectral essences from fallen spirits, and the blood of the cursed forest beasts. Each material is heavily guarded, and the act of gathering them will draw the attention of the forest''s defenders. Time is of the essence; failure to complete the forge will leave you at the mercy of the curse. 6. Slay the Guardian Spirit of Northern forest of Orzaroth. Description: At the heart of the curse lies the Guardian Spirit of Northern forest of Orzaroth, an ethereal being that embodies the forest''s wrath. This spirit cannot be harmed by conventional means and has the power to manipulate the environment against you. It can summon hurricanes, floods, and firestorms to decimate your forces. To face the spirit, you must first weaken it by destroying its anchors¡ªthree ancient totems hidden deep within the forest. Each totem is guarded by elite beasts and traps designed to break even the strongest warriors. Destroying the totems will weaken the spirit, allowing you to face it in its true form. 7. Conquer the Great Outpost Beyond the Forest. Description: Beyond the forest lies the Great Outpost, a bastion of human resistance filled with skilled knights, elite magicians, and advanced weaponry. This outpost serves as a rallying point for humans seeking to destroy you. To escape the forest and cement your power, you must conquer this outpost. The outpost is fortified with walls enchanted to repel magic, ballistae capable of piercing Ogre flesh, and warriors trained to counter Orc tactics. Victory will require strategy, overwhelming force, and the element of surprise. Once the outpost falls, the curse will lose its grip entirely, and your dominion will extend beyond the forest''s boundaries. Ding! The notification faded as Volk''s glowing eyes scanned the list. His laughter returned, louder and more menacing than ever, shaking the battlefield. He turned to his horde, their faces filled with awe and anticipation. "Gather your strength!" Volk bellowed, his voice like thunder. "We have work to do. The forest will bow to me, and beyond it... the world!" ¡­ Volk''s enormous frame strode through the forest, the ground trembling beneath his feet as his Orc and Ogre horde followed in his wake. Yet, despite his triumphant demeanor and the radioactive power thrumming within him, his mind was far from settled. The notification of the seven missions replayed in his thoughts like an incessant drumbeat. Each one seemed critical, each one promising untold rewards or catastrophic consequences. He glanced at his warriors, their brutish faces filled with blind loyalty and bloodlust. For them, it was simple¡ªkill, destroy, conquer. But for Volk, the decision wasn''t so easy. Stopping abruptly, he raised a hand, halting the march. The horde quieted, watching him with anticipation. Volk rubbed his chin, his glowing eyes narrowing as he pondered aloud, his deep voice resonating like distant thunder. Volk paced back and forth, his massive claws tracing patterns in the dirt. "The beasts of this cursed forest are a menace. Killing them would prove my dominance over this land. If I take this path, I''d gain control of the forest itself. Every predator would either fall to me or serve me. Their pelts, bones, and magical cores could strengthen my army. My Ogres could wield their bones as weapons, and their blood could be used in rituals to enhance my shamans. And imagine¡­ a forest that obeys my command instead of fighting against me!" He growled, his eyes narrowing. "But the risk¡­ oh, the risk! These beasts aren''t just animals¡ªthey''re imbued with Gerhardt''s curse. Some of them might be stronger than me, even in this form. "They''ll attack from the shadows, using the forest itself to trap and ambush me. I could lose my best warriors to them, and even if I win, my forces might be too depleted to handle the other challenges. "Worse, what if the forest spirits retaliate? Killing these beasts could make the forest even angrier." He stopped pacing and looked up at the towering canopy above him. "The Tree of Souls¡­ its core is the very heart of the forest''s magic. If I claim it, I''ll not only weaken the curse but also harness its power for myself. Imagine¡­ a radioactive Orc with control over life itself! "My power would grow beyond imagination. My enemies would kneel before me, unable to resist the magic flowing through their veins that I could control. And the forest would be mine, no longer a threat." He grimaced, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "But that tree is ancient. Its roots spread for miles, and its guardians will stop at nothing to protect it. Spirits, treants, and who knows what other monstrosities will stand in my way. And the tree itself? "It could unleash waves of energy that even I might not withstand. What if it traps me in one of its roots, draining my strength until I''m nothing but a husk? The reward is tempting, but the risk¡­ it''s enormous." Volk clenched his fists, his radioactive aura flaring briefly. "The rebel tribes are a thorn in my side. If I bring them to heel, I''ll have more soldiers, more shamans, and more strength to crush my enemies. Their numbers could swell my horde into an unstoppable force, and their magic, weak as it is, could still prove useful. Plus, breaking their leaders would send a message to anyone else who dares defy me." He sighed, a rare moment of exasperation. "But those rebels are cunning. They''ve aligned themselves with the forest beasts, using their knowledge of the terrain against me. They''ll set traps, launch ambushes, and weaken my forces before I can even reach them. "And even if I win, integrating them into my horde could cause dissent. Some of my loyal warriors might not trust them. What if they betray me again, right when I''m dealing with the other missions?" He tilted his head, his glowing eyes flickering with interest. "The Shard of Temporal Reversal¡­ now that''s something intriguing. With it, I could undo mistakes, retry battles, or even reverse the curse entirely. "Its power could turn the tide of any situation in my favor. If I wield it, I could become invincible, always one step ahead of my enemies. Imagine rewinding time to crush my foes before they even know what hit them!" His expression darkened. "But the Caverns of Endless Time¡­ I''ve heard the stories. Illusions that twist your mind, creatures that defy logic, and temporal traps that could leave me stuck in an eternal loop. "What if I get lost there, reliving the same failure over and over? And what if the shard itself has a cost? Time magic is dangerous¡ªit could backfire, erasing me or my horde from existence altogether." Volk smirked, imagining the forge in his mind. "The Bloodforge¡­ a structure that amplifies my power and binds the forest''s magic to my will. With it, I could overcome the curse entirely and become unstoppable. "My radioactive form could last indefinitely, and my enemies would crumble before me. The materials needed to build it would strengthen my warriors along the way, and completing it would solidify my reign." His smirk faded. "But gathering those materials¡­ volcanic ore, spectral essences, cursed blood¡­ it''ll take time and effort. Each material is guarded by creatures or forces that will drain my resources and manpower. "And building the forge itself could attract the attention of every enemy in Orzaroth. What if they unite against me, seeing the forge as the ultimate threat?" Volk''s radioactive aura flared again, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "The Guardian Spirit is the source of this curse. Killing it would break the curse completely, freeing me from its grip. "It would prove my dominance over this cursed land, and no one would ever dare challenge me again. Its death would also send a message to the forest: Volk rules here now." He snarled, baring his teeth. "But that spirit is no ordinary foe. It can manipulate the very elements against me, summoning storms, earthquakes, and fire. It''s not bound by the same rules as mortal beings. "What if I can''t harm it? What if its death triggers an even worse curse? And finding its totems¡­ that''s a task in itself. Each one will be a fortress of traps and defenders." Volk turned his gaze toward the horizon, imagining the outpost in flames. "The Great Outpost is a prize worth taking. Conquering it would give me control of this region, access to human resources, and the ability to expand my reign beyond the forest. "Their knights, magicians, and weapons would become mine, adding to my unstoppable force." His voice grew grim. "But that outpost¡­ it''s fortified to the teeth. Walls enchanted to repel magic, ballistae that could pierce even an Ogre''s hide, and soldiers trained to counter Orc tactics. "A direct assault would cost me dearly, and if I fail, my reputation would suffer. What if the humans rally, bringing reinforcements from beyond? The forest would still be against me, and I''d be fighting a war on two fronts." Volk sighed, his massive shoulders heaving as the weight of the decisions pressed down on him. He glanced at his horde, their eager faces looking to him for guidance. "Which one¡­ which one do I choose?" he muttered to himself, his voice low but filled with frustration. "Each path has its rewards, but the risks¡­ they''re all too great. Yet I must decide, for hesitation is death. But where to begin?" As he resumed his march, his mind churned with possibilities, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of each mission. For Volk, this was not just about survival¡ªit was about forging his legacy as the most fearsome leader Orzaroth had ever seen. Chapter 278 Declining the system Volk''s march slowed as his massive feet crushed the underbrush beneath him.His radioactive aura dimmed ever so slightly, though its ominous hum continued to ripple through the air. The forest canopy above cast fractured beams of light onto his hulking figure, yet his glowing eyes, filled with an uncharacteristic depth of thought, were focused inward. The notifications still lingered in his mind, each mission outlined with haunting clarity. They weren''t just options¡ªthey were crossroads, each leading to a future fraught with potential and peril. He scratched his chin with a clawed hand, his brow furrowed in a rare moment of contemplation. The horde behind him hesitated as they watched their leader slow, uncertain whether to pause or press forward. Volk''s imposing figure was like a monolith, immovable yet radiating energy that could erupt at any moment. His silence was unnerving, his deep breaths resonating like the distant rumble of a storm. Volk gritted his teeth. His voice, though low, reverberated through the forest as he muttered his thoughts. "The beasts of this forest¡­ they''re relentless. Killing them would give me control, but at what cost? I''ve already felt the sting of their ambushes, their claws and fangs tearing into my warriors. And the curse¡­ that damned curse. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "What if it strengthens them the moment I strike? What if this mission isn''t a victory but a trap? My forces are strong, but are they strong enough to face the unknown lurking in these woods?" His eyes narrowed, his thoughts shifting to the Tree of Souls. "Its power¡­ it''s undeniable. The heart of the forest itself, beating for centuries. If I claim it, I could reshape this land to my will. But the risks? I''ve heard the stories. Spirits that guard it, roots that can crush even the strongest of Ogres. "What if it consumes me instead? What if I become nothing more than another ghost trapped in its branches? No¡­ this isn''t a simple task¡ªit''s a gamble." He turned his gaze to the horizon, where the rebel Orc tribes roamed freely. "My kin¡­ or are they? They''re rebellious, foolish, and weak. Bringing them under my banner would strengthen my forces, but at what cost? Disloyalty festers like a disease. "What if they betray me again, right when I need them most? And their alliances with the beasts of the forest¡­ it''s unnatural. I''d be walking into a den of vipers, trusting them not to strike." Volk clenched his fists, his radioactive energy pulsing. The thought of the Shard of Temporal Reversal danced through his mind. "Time itself¡­ bending to my will. Rewriting failures, seizing opportunities. It sounds perfect. But time magic is a dangerous thing. What if it twists me? What if I undo more than I intend? And the Caverns of Endless Time¡­ they''re no place for even the bravest warriors. "Illusions, traps, creatures that defy reality. It''s a labyrinth designed to break the strongest minds. Can I afford to lose myself there?" He exhaled sharply, his breath steaming in the cool forest air as his thoughts shifted to the Bloodforge of the Undying. "A forge that amplifies my power, that binds the magic of this land to me. Its promise is seductive. But the materials¡­ the battles I''d have to fight to gather them¡­ they could drain my forces, leave me vulnerable. "And the forge itself¡­ what if it draws enemies from beyond the forest? What if it becomes the very reason I fall?" Volk growled, his voice rising. "And then there''s the Guardian Spirit of Orzaroth. Killing it would break this curse once and for all. But a spirit isn''t like a man, or even a beast. It''s an embodiment of this land, an ancient force that can''t be fought with strength alone. "What if I can''t harm it? What if its death triggers something even worse? The thought of facing it¡­ it''s exhilarating, but also maddening." Finally, his thoughts turned to the Great Outpost Beyond the Forest. "A fortress brimming with human soldiers, enchanted walls, and weapons meant to destroy creatures like me. Conquering it would send a message, expand my reign. But their defenses are no joke. "Ballistae that could pierce my strongest Ogres, soldiers trained to counter my tactics. And if I fail¡­ no. Failure isn''t an option. But attacking them now, when the forest still stands against me, would be suicidal." Volk stopped entirely, his massive form casting a long shadow over the forest floor. He looked down at his hands, at the faint glow of radioactive power that pulsed through his veins. "Every mission¡­ every single one of them is a double-edged sword. The rewards are vast, but the risks¡­ the risks could destroy me and my horde. "Am I strong enough to take them on? Are my warriors ready? Or am I biting off more than I can chew, chasing power without considering the cost?" He sighed, a low rumble that made the Orcs behind him exchange uneasy glances. "What''s the point of power if I waste it chasing the wrong goal? Every step I take could lead to victory¡­ or disaster. I''ve already gained so much, fought so hard. "But this isn''t just about me. My horde depends on me to lead them. If I choose wrong, they''ll pay the price too." Volk''s glowing eyes scanned the forest, his gaze heavy with the weight of responsibility. The tension in the air was palpable as his warriors waited for his command. For a long moment, Volk said nothing. Then, finally, he shook his head, his expression resolute. "No," he growled, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "I can''t take a mission this time. Not now. Not while the forest still curses me, while my power is unsteady. I''ll wait. I''ll grow stronger. "When the time is right, I''ll choose the path that leads to true dominance. Until then, we march forward, surviving and crushing anyone who dares oppose us." With that, Volk raised his arm, signaling his horde to continue. The forest trembled as the march resumed, but the questions lingered in Volk''s mind, gnawing at him with every step. ¡­ Volk trudged forward, his massive frame moving with deliberate, rhythmic strides that left deep impressions in the forest floor. The horde followed silently, their collective energy subdued as though even they sensed their leader''s contemplative mood. The crackle of his radioactive aura, usually pulsating with menace, now felt more muted, a low hum that mirrored the storm brewing within Volk''s mind. His brow furrowed deeply as his eyes swept across the dense foliage, but his gaze wasn''t on the trees or the path ahead. Instead, it was inward, tangled in the labyrinth of thoughts he couldn''t shake. His claws flexed and unflexed at his sides, his fists clenching intermittently, a physical manifestation of the turmoil roiling in his chest. For perhaps the first time, doubt¡ªa sensation foreign to Volk¡ªtugged at his core. "Why?" he muttered under his breath, his deep voice barely audible over the crunch of leaves beneath his feet. "Why did I decline the system?" The words hung in the air, unanswered, but they festered, gnawing at him with every step. He glanced at his hands, the faint glow of his radioactive energy pulsating beneath his skin. His power was immense, capable of leveling armies, yet the system had offered him even more. Missions¡ªeach one a stepping stone to unparalleled strength. Rewards that could cement his dominance over this wretched forest and the cursed lands beyond. Yet he had said no. He, Volk, who had never turned away from power, had refused the very thing that promised to elevate him. The thought churned in his mind like a storm, each wave of doubt crashing against the shores of his conviction. "It wasn''t the missions themselves," he muttered, his glowing eyes narrowing. "No¡­ it was something deeper. Something¡­" He trailed off, his jaw tightening as if the words themselves refused to form. Volk replayed the missions in his mind, each one unfolding with crystal clarity. "Every one of them was perfect," he admitted begrudgingly. "No risk, the rewards clear. The system''s guidance would have guaranteed success. I could have brought the forest to its knees, shattered the curse, conquered the humans, and built an empire worthy of my power." He paused, the trees looming around him like silent witnesses. His claws flexed again, and a growl rumbled low in his throat. "But that''s exactly the problem," he snarled. "No risk. No challenge. It''s too perfect, too¡­ easy." His eyes flickered with a dangerous light as he continued to march. "Since when has life ever handed me anything without a fight? The system''s missions feel¡­ wrong. Like a hand guiding me to where it wants me to go. I''m no puppet. If I''m going to carve my path, it''ll be by my own will¡ªnot some unseen force pulling strings." The thought of testing the system lingered, a dark and tantalizing idea that fed his pride. "What happens if I don''t take its missions? Does it get weaker? Does it punish me? Or does it start offering more¡­ desperate bargains?" He smirked at the thought, though his expression quickly soured. "Or maybe it doesn''t care. Maybe I''m nothing but another pawn in its game." Yet there was another layer, a deeper reason for his refusal, one that gnawed at him even more fiercely. Every mission, no matter how enticing, had one glaring commonality: they all tethered him to this place. "Stay in the forest," he muttered bitterly. "Fight the beasts, claim the Tree, hunt the Spirit. All of it ties me here, like chains around my ankles. Why? Why does the system want me bound to this cursed land?" He shook his head, his radioactive glow intensifying for a moment before dimming again. "It''s too convenient. The missions all focus on consolidating power here, but what about beyond? What about the elves?" His voice lowered, almost a whisper now, as though speaking the word aloud might summon them. "Their symbiotic magic, their strength¡­ their connection to this land. They''re not just an alliance; they''re the key to true dominion." He bared his teeth in a grimace. "The system doesn''t even mention them. Not once. Either it doesn''t know, or it doesn''t want me to know. And that''s reason enough to tread carefully." Volk''s mind drifted to the elusive elves. Their magic was unlike anything else¡ªa fusion of nature and power, symbiotic and potent. The rumors of their culture, their partnerships, their unions¡­ it all pointed to strength beyond mere numbers. "They''re not just allies," Volk murmured, his eyes gleaming. "They''re partners. Wives. Power shared through bonds. If I can find them, if I can forge that connection¡­ I won''t just rule this forest. I''ll rule everything beyond it." The thought stirred a fire within him, a vision of a future where his power was unmatched, where the elves stood at his side, their magic intertwining with his radioactive might. But the system''s silence on their existence was glaring. "The system wants me distracted," Volk growled. "Tied up in missions that keep me from the real prize. But I won''t be its pawn. I''ll find the elves. I''ll claim what''s mine. And I''ll do it on my terms." Volk''s steps grew heavier, more deliberate, as his resolve solidified. He shook his head, the tension in his brow easing as his lips curled into a faint, defiant smirk. "I can''t take a mission this time," he muttered, his voice low but firm. "Not when the real prize lies beyond the system''s reach. Let it dangle its rewards. Let it scheme and plot. I''ll play my own game." With that, Volk raised his head, his glowing eyes scanning the path ahead. The horde behind him moved with renewed energy, sensing their leader''s unwavering determination. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation, as Volk marched forward¡ªone step closer to claiming his destiny. Chapter 279 Nothing Volk led the march, his massive form towering over the Orcs and Ogres who followed in disciplined silence.The rhythmic thud of countless feet echoed through the dense forest, a steady drumbeat to the otherwise still air. Despite the powerful energy that seemed to radiate from the group, Volk''s brow furrowed deeper with every step, his glowing eyes narrowing as an uneasy sensation wormed its way into his chest. At first, it was faint¡ªnothing more than an itch at the edge of his consciousness. He ignored it, chalking it up to his earlier defiance of the system. Refusing the missions was an act of rebellion, a rejection of the very thing that had promised him power. "It''s just paranoia," he told himself, his voice low, as though saying it aloud would banish the thought. But as they marched, the sensation grew stronger. It gnawed at him like an insidious whisper in the back of his mind, quiet yet persistent. Volk''s heavy boots sank into the soil with every step, but the sound of his march began to feel¡­ distorted. Wrong. Each stride seemed to carry weight beyond the physical, as though unseen chains were forming around his ankles. The gnawing intensified. Volk clenched his fists, the radioactive energy beneath his skin flaring in response to his agitation. His hulking frame remained steady, his expression stoic, but inwardly, a subtle panic began to scratch at the corners of his mind. "What is this?" he muttered under his breath. The Orc beside him glanced up briefly before looking away, knowing better than to question their leader''s private musings. Volk''s senses were razor-sharp, honed by years of bloodshed and survival, and yet, this¡­ this was different. It wasn''t an enemy''s presence he could crush. It wasn''t the sting of an incoming blow or the crackle of magic he could counter. This was something intangible, crawling through his thoughts like a shadow lurking just beyond his sight. It felt like eyes¡ªdozens, hundreds, thousands of unseen eyes¡ªbearing down on him. Watching him. Judging him. Waiting for something. The march continued. The sound of rustling leaves grew louder, more oppressive. The canopy above seemed to stretch and close in, blocking out more and more of the sky. The air itself thickened, as if resisting their passage. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s breaths came heavier, though not from exertion. His radioactive energy buzzed more erratically now, flaring in jagged bursts that rippled through the ranks like shockwaves. Still, the feeling remained. Punishment? The thought crept back into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome: Will there be a punishment? The system had been quiet. Too quiet. It hadn''t chastised him for refusing the missions. It hadn''t issued another prompt or tried to tempt him back into compliance. The silence was worse than any reprimand. Volk growled low, his sharp teeth grinding together. "Why does it feel like I''ve broken something?" he murmured to himself. His radioactive glow flared briefly, illuminating his face with a sickly green hue. Punishment. He rolled the word around in his mind like bitter poison. The system had always promised rewards, power, growth¡ªbut what if its benevolence masked a sharper edge? What if his rebellion came at a cost? Was he about to pay for his arrogance? Volk glanced at his surroundings, half-expecting to see something¡ªanything¡ªemerge from the trees. A beast sent to drag him down. A force to crush him for daring to deny the system''s guidance. The gnawing in his chest grew stronger, spreading outward like cracks in a wall. Time stretched. The march grew longer, endless. Every minute dragged into hours, or perhaps it only felt that way. Volk wasn''t sure anymore. The air grew heavier with each step, as though the very atmosphere was pressing down on him. His glowing eyes darted toward the forest edge, searching for signs of movement. Nothing. Still nothing. The gnawing became unbearable. It wasn''t just in his chest anymore¡ªit was everywhere. Experience exclusive tales on empire Crawling through his veins. Scratching at his mind. Clawing at his bones. His muscles tensed involuntarily, the energy in his body surging in fits and starts, pulsing erratically like a heartbeat gone mad. Volk''s jaw clenched, his mind racing. "Is this the punishment? To make me feel hunted, to break me before it even strikes?" His radioactive aura flared suddenly, a wave of heat radiating outward. The Orcs and Ogres nearest to him stumbled slightly but quickly recovered, silent in their discipline. None dared ask their leader what was wrong. Volk didn''t stop walking. He refused to stop. To halt now would mean acknowledging that the unseen weight pressing down on him had won. "No," he growled, the word low and guttural. "You don''t own me. I refuse to bend." The gnawing intensified further, as though his defiance had provoked it. Every step felt heavier now. Each movement became a herculean effort, as if his limbs were wading through invisible tar. Volk''s vision swam briefly, dark shadows flickering at the edges. He blinked them away, forcing himself to focus. "This is nothing. NOTHING," he snarled aloud, his voice booming and echoing unnaturally through the forest. His radioactive glow flared brighter, green energy pulsing like an angry heartbeat. The forest itself seemed to recoil, the trees swaying slightly, as if bending away from his defiance. Yet the sensation didn''t leave him. It clung to him like a second skin, smothering, consuming, devouring. Volk''s footsteps slowed, just barely¡ªbut he noticed. "No¡­ I won''t¡­ I won''t stop!" His voice roared out, cutting through the silence like a blade. The gnawing sensation reached a crescendo. It was everywhere now, writhing inside him, tearing at his pride, mocking his resolve. For a fleeting moment, Volk almost expected the worst. For the ground to crack open beneath him. For the forest itself to rise up and strike him down. For his radioactive energy to implode, leaving him as nothing but ash. But then¡­ Nothing Happened The sensation stopped. It didn''t fade away gradually. It didn''t ease into silence. It simply¡­ ceased. Volk froze mid-stride, his entire body tensed and ready for something¡ªanything¡ªto happen. His radioactive glow pulsed faintly, confused, flickering like a sputtering flame. Silence. He stood still, his ears straining for any sound, any sign that the forest had turned against him. But there was nothing. Just the rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant chirp of an unseen bird. Volk blinked. His glowing eyes narrowed suspiciously, his sharp teeth bared in a low growl. "That''s it?" he said, his voice echoing faintly through the trees. "Nothing?" A strange mix of relief and irritation surged through him, clashing like oil and water. He let out a long breath, his chest rising and falling slowly as the tension bled from his muscles. The Orcs and Ogres around him dared not speak, but they sensed it too. Whatever had just happened was over. Volk straightened, shaking his head as though trying to clear the lingering unease. "Hmph," he grunted, resuming his march with a deliberate stride. "It was nothing." Yet, in the back of his mind, Volk couldn''t shake the thought: Was it really nothing? Chapter 280 Horn Volk marched at the head of the column, his enormous, hulking frame cutting through the forest like an unstoppable force.The Orcs and Ogres followed in orderly silence behind him, their synchronized steps a steady drumbeat, almost hypnotic in its rhythm. For a while, everything felt¡­ still. Volk couldn''t quite describe it. A strangeness lingered in the air, a feeling he couldn''t shake. It wasn''t the gnawing sensation from before. That maddening itch¡ªthe weight of unseen eyes¡ªhad vanished as abruptly as it came. Now, in its place, there was something else. Something¡­ tranquil. Peace. Volk''s radioactive energy, which had been flaring and rippling in angry bursts moments before, softened into a quiet glow. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The forest, once oppressive and suffocating, now felt¡­ calm. The air felt lighter. Even the rhythmic thud of boots against dirt became softer, less menacing. For the first time in what felt like ages, Volk''s thoughts weren''t clawing at the edges of his mind. Volk frowned slightly, his sharp teeth clenching and unclenching as he mulled over the sensation. Peace? It was something he knew but chose to forget. Now, he believed is shouldn''t be something that he should had ever allowed himself to feel. For Volk, there should always be violence now. Rage. Power. A leader. A conqueror. A destroyer. And yet, here he was, walking beneath a canopy of ancient trees, the soft glow of light filtering through the branches. The air was still. The world was still. It was as if the very forest had breathed out a long-held sigh, and the weight of all that had transpired¡ªGerhardt''s fall, the clash of mages, the System''s silent pressure¡ªsimply¡­ melted away. Volk didn''t trust it. He cast a glance over his shoulder. The Orcs and Ogres marched with perfect discipline, their focus unwavering, but even they seemed different. Their faces, hardened and war-worn, looked strangely at ease. Their breathing was steady. Their eyes were calm. Volk''s glowing gaze flickered back to the path ahead. "Peace," he muttered to himself, the word bitter on his tongue. He spat it out like bile. "Why does it feel like a trap?" And yet¡­ the feeling persisted. The trees stretched endlessly around them, their branches swaying gently, as though cradling the world in a delicate embrace. Leaves drifted lazily from above, spinning in the quiet air before settling on the ground. Even the sounds of nature¡ªbirds chirping, the rustle of unseen creatures¡ªseemed muted, distant, like echoes in an empty hall. Volk''s steps slowed just a fraction, his massive boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the cool, clean air. The stillness was¡­ soothing. For the first time, Volk realized how tired he felt. Not physically¡ªhis body was a forge of raw strength and radioactive energy¡ªbut in his mind. His thoughts, always sharp and buzzing with purpose, now floated aimlessly, like leaves drifting on a calm river. It was so unnatural. His brow furrowed deeply as his glowing eyes narrowed at the trees around him. The peace was a trick, it had to be. Nothing in his world was ever this still. This quiet. This¡­ gentle. "What is this feeling?" he growled to himself. His voice, low and gravelly, broke the silence like a rock striking still water. It echoed faintly, swallowed quickly by the forest. The marching continued behind him, but even the sound of his army seemed softer now, muffled, almost dreamlike. Volk''s mind wandered. His thoughts drifted to memories long buried¡ªmoments of stillness he had never allowed himself to dwell on. The quiet before a battle. The strange calm that always came when he stood over a conquered enemy. And now, this¡ªthis maddening peace that made him feel¡­ vulnerable. The sensation only deepened as they marched. The air became so still that Volk could hear his own heartbeat, slow and steady, thudding against his chest like a distant war drum. His radioactive energy had dulled to a faint hum, pulsing quietly beneath his skin. His enormous muscles, always primed for combat, began to feel unnaturally loose, relaxed. Volk shook his head, trying to break free of the strange lull that surrounded him. His sharp teeth clenched harder. "What is this sorcery?" he muttered, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. The forest offered no answers. The wind refused to respond. Even the shadows seemed to stretch a little farther, blanketing the path ahead in a serene darkness. Continue your adventure at empire Volk''s grip tightened on the hilt of his massive blade. The weapon felt heavy in his hand¡ªunfamiliar, as though it belonged to someone else. That was when he realized the truth: The peace was a weight in itself. It wasn''t the crushing, suffocating weight of the System''s pressure. It wasn''t the gnawing anxiety of unseen punishment. This was different. It was a smothering stillness that seeped into the soul, a calm so profound it began to feel oppressive. Volk could almost hear it¡ªsomething whispering beneath the quiet. A lullaby, faint and haunting, carried on the unmoving air. "No," Volk growled, his voice breaking the calm again. "This is not real. It cannot be real." The march stretched on. Time lost all meaning. Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes stretched into hours. Volk began to wonder if he would ever escape the stillness, if this peace would stretch on forever, swallowing him whole. The air grew heavier with every step, pressing down on his shoulders like invisible hands. The edges of his vision blurred slightly, as though the very world was softening, folding in on itself. "Enough," Volk hissed, his patience finally splintering like cracked stone. He came to a halt, his massive body rigid with tension, his glowing eyes scanning the forest around him. The Orcs and Ogres behind him stopped as well, confused, but silent. Volk glared into the trees, his radioactive energy flaring faintly in warning. The glow pulsed like a heartbeat, sharp and jagged, fighting against the smothering stillness that surrounded them. For a moment, the peace deepened. The silence pressed harder. Volk''s teeth ground together as his grip tightened further. Then¡ª A horn. It came from nowhere, splitting the air like a lightning strike. A deep, echoing blare that rolled through the forest like a shockwave. The sound hit Volk like a physical force, snapping him back to reality. His radioactive glow flared bright and wild, shattering the last remnants of the peace. The forest erupted into motion. Birds scattered from the canopy. The shadows stretched and twisted. The horn sounded again, louder this time, its call vibrating deep in Volk''s chest. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his grin sharp and predatory. "There it is," he rumbled, his voice filled with renewed vigor. The stillness was gone. Peace was shattered. The hunt was on. Chapter 281 From above The forest had erupted into chaos.The unnatural peace that once weighed on them was now gone, replaced by a cacophony of sound and movement that sent shivers down spines and rattled bones. Volk stood at the head of his massive horde, his radioactive glow flaring brighter in warning as his sharp gaze snapped upward. From above, a howling wind began to sweep through the canopy. The air itself seemed to grow claws. Leaves scattered like startled birds, spinning through the air as though desperate to flee. Then¡ª WHOOSH. Something streaked down from the sky, slicing through the branches with deadly precision. A single, blackened shape whistled as it fell, followed by an explosive BOOM that sent dirt and debris flying into the air. An Ogre roared as it stumbled back, its armored flesh now dotted with long, thin gashes where the wind itself had struck. Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed into slits. "What was that?" Soon, the Sky Darkens It began slowly, subtly, like the first drops of rain before a storm. More shapes¡ªdark and darting¡ªcut through the air above them, their speed so great they blurred against the sky. No one could make out what they were, but they moved with purpose, circling like birds of prey. Then the wind came. SHRRRK! The first gust hit with the force of a whip. It wasn''t a natural breeze¡ªno, this was magic, a slicing torrent of wind that tore at their ranks. An unlucky Orc near the front staggered back, howling in pain as blood sprayed from his shoulder where the wind had cut him like a blade. "RAISE YOUR SHIELDS!" Volk bellowed, his deep, commanding voice booming like thunder through the clearing. His command echoed above the chaos, a clear order in the midst of confusion. The attack intensified. More unseen forces¡ªWHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH¡ªbegan to rain down from above. Each streaking shape brought devastation: strange objects that struck the ground like stones hurled by giants, exploding into bursts of dirt and shrapnel. "What IS THIS!?" roared an Ogre, his voice shaking with confusion and pain as another magical gust swept past, slicing through his massive arm. Blood sprayed, and his roar turned to a pained growl as he dropped to one knee. Volk''s eyes darted through the chaos. He still couldn''t see the attackers. Were they beasts? Mages? Or some new, unseen foe? The creatures above were swift¡ªtoo swift to follow with the eye¡ªand their wind magic struck from all angles, unpredictable and relentless. The ground itself was turning into a death zone. THUD. Another projectile struck the earth, shaking the ground beneath their feet. An unlucky Orc near the impact site was flung back like a rag doll, his body broken and crumpled. Ogres, massive as they were, stumbled as the shockwaves reached them. Find your next read on empire And still¡ª SHRRAAAK! The slicing wind magic continued, cutting through their flesh in thin, jagged lines. At first, the wounds seemed shallow, but they burned. They stung. Blood poured freely, turning the forest floor a dark, wet red. Volk''s radioactive energy flared violently. His glowing aura pulsed like an angry heartbeat, illuminating the chaos around him. His sharp teeth ground together as he surveyed his faltering horde. His army was powerful¡ªOgres, Orcs, brutes of the battlefield¡ªbut this attack was insidious. It came from above, from unseen enemies who struck with speed and precision. "SHIELDS!" Volk roared again, his voice echoing with wrath. "DEFENSIVE FORMATION!" The Orcs obeyed immediately. Barking in their guttural tongue, they locked their shields together in a tight, overlapping wall of iron and wood. The Ogres followed suit, using their massive, armored forearms to shield themselves and crouching low, forming makeshift barriers of flesh and stone. The sound of wind magic slicing through the air became deafening. Each gust slammed against the shields like an invisible hammer, sending vibrations through the ranks. The Orcs grunted under the force of each strike, their muscles straining to hold their ground. "STAY LOW!" Volk barked, his voice like iron. He planted his feet firmly in the ground, his massive form unmoving as the wind whipped past him. "HOLD YOUR POSITIONS! THEY CANNOT BREAK US!" But even as Volk commanded, his mind raced. The attacks weren''t stopping. If anything, they were growing stronger. The wind''s fury became sharper. The streaking projectiles fell faster, harder, each explosion shaking the very earth beneath their feet. Volk clenched his fists, his radioactive power rippling wildly around him like a storm barely contained. Who were these attackers? How were they so coordinated? He didn''t know. For all his experience, for all his strength, this was something new. He could feel it¡ªtheir intent. Whoever was up there wasn''t just attacking. They were testing him. Testing them. The slicing winds weren''t fatal, not yet. The falling projectiles were aimed to scatter, to injure, to overwhelm¡ªnot to kill. Volk''s brow furrowed deeply, his eyes glowing brighter with rage. "They''re toying with us," he muttered under his breath, his voice a growl. Another shockwave rocked the ground, and another Ogre roared in pain, his massive back struck by the brunt of the attack. The shield formation was holding, but just barely. The Orcs crouched low, teeth gritted, as their shields buckled under the repeated pressure of the attacks. Blood dripped from cuts and gashes where the wind had found its way through. Some shields began to splinter, their wood cracking with every impact. The Ogres fared no better. Though their bodies were enormous and their skin like armor, the constant barrage was wearing them down. They growled, they cursed, but they did not falter. Volk stood tall in the center of it all. His radioactive aura flared brighter and brighter, its sickly glow searing into the darkness. His fists clenched tighter as his teeth bared into a snarl. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE?!" Volk roared at the unseen attackers, his voice splitting through the chaos like a jagged bolt of lightning. His challenge echoed through the forest, daring whatever was up there to show itself. The wind answered. Another slicing gust swept past him, tearing a line across his cheek. The cut was shallow, but it stung. Volk''s radioactive glow flared in anger. The horde continued to hold, but Volk knew their options were dwindling. The attacks were unrelenting. Their shields were their only defense, but how long could they hold out? How long before exhaustion set in? How long before the enemy struck in earnest? Volk growled low in his throat, his glowing eyes scanning the sky, searching for answers. His mind raced through possibilities, through plans, but every option felt thin, desperate. For now, all they could do was hold. The wind howled again, the projectiles fell faster. Volk realized something, is this a curse of that human? Is it the beginning? Or the system punishment to him? Chapter 282 Arrogant Birds the air grew thick with an eerie tension as the barrage of attacks slowed to a halt. the slicing winds became softer, the storm of projectiles ceased, and for the first time since the chaos began, the forest held its breath.the sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of disturbed leaves and the pained groans of ogres and orcs alike as they steadied themselves. volk''s radioactive glow dimmed slightly as his sharp gaze shot upward. through the clearing smoke and debris, a shadow emerged against the gray sky¡ªgraceful and yet mocking. wings, broad and feathered, flapped with a smooth rhythm, keeping the figure aloft as it began its descent. slowly, deliberately, the creature came into view: a male harpy, his long, sharp talons curled beneath him, his lithe body draped in dark feathers that shimmered faintly under the dim light. his face, human-like but unnervingly angular, wore an expression of open disdain¡ªa smug sneer stretched across his lips as his glowing, yellow eyes locked onto volk. volk straightened to his full height, standing like an unshakable colossus at the center of his horde. his fists unclenched, though his aura still flickered with dangerous energy. he tilted his head, his voice low and commanding as it echoed through the tense clearing. "why are you attacking us?" the harpy didn''t answer right away. he landed softly on the ground, talons sinking into the earth as his wings folded behind him. he straightened his back, his smirk deepening as he looked volk up and down, clearly unimpressed despite the immense radioactive power that crackled off the orc leader. finally, the harpy spoke, his voice high and sharp, like wind whistling through blades. "because you and your horde are disgusting." the words hung in the air, poisonous and deliberate. volk''s expression darkened, his glowing eyes narrowing into furious slits. around him, the orcs growled low in their throats, fists tightening around their weapons, teeth bared in a mix of pain and anger. even the injured ogres, still steadying themselves, glared toward the feathered figure, their breaths heavy and seething. volk let the harpy''s insult hang for a moment, as if tasting its weight. his radioactive aura began to hum again, low and ominous, like the beginnings of an earthquake. "disgusting?" volk repeated, his voice gravelly and cold. "do you think us weak? do you think us beneath you?" the harpy tilted his head mockingly, his yellow eyes glowing faintly in amusement. "i think you''re a stain on this land. like filth that needs to be washed away." volk''s lips peeled back into a feral grin, revealing rows of jagged teeth. his voice dropped even lower, carrying with it the weight of a threat as old as war itself. "keep testing me, bird." volk''s tone was soft, dangerous. "if you and your kind keep toying with us, i will make you regret it. we will hunt you¡ªall of you¡ªfrom the skies. we''ll drag you from your perches and rip your wings off your backs. one by one. until not a single feathered corpse remains." read the latest on empire the harpy blinked once¡ªslowly¡ªand then smiled. it wasn''t a kind smile, nor one of fear. it was cold, cruel, a predator''s grin that matched volk''s own. he took a step forward, talons digging deeper into the dirt, his wings flexing behind him as though preparing for flight. "do what you see fit, monster," the harpy hissed, his voice laced with venom. "because we will do the same to you and every last one of your kind." volk''s glow pulsed once, a dangerous surge of energy, but the harpy didn''t flinch. instead, he spread his wings wide, feathers snapping out like blades. the air whipped around him again, carrying a faint hum of magic as if the wind itself bent to his will. then he laughed¡ªhigh, sharp, and mocking¡ªbefore launching himself back into the sky. the sudden rush of air sent dust spiraling, and in seconds, the harpy was gone, vanishing into the canopy above. volk watched him disappear, his grin fading into a deep scowl. his fists clenched, and the air around him shimmered with radioactive tension as his army began to regroup behind him. the injured ogres groaned. the orcs muttered curses under their breaths. volk''s gaze lingered on the sky, glowing eyes searching the horizon. the harpy''s words echoed in his mind, stoking the embers of a deeper fury. "we''ll see who gets hunted," volk muttered to himself, his voice a low growl. and somewhere above, unseen in the swirling clouds, the harpies waited¡ªwatching, mocking, and ready. the sky darkened¡ªnot from clouds or the passage of the sun, but from a constant swarm of attackers that swooped and whirled above volk and his battered horde. the harpies had returned. dozens, maybe hundreds, their silhouettes like jagged shadows cutting through the gray. wings flapped in unison, their sharp cries echoing across the battlefield as if the air itself was screaming. from the heavens, they rained down chaos. sharp gusts of slicing wind whirled like invisible blades, shredding armor, gouging flesh, and slicing at exposed skin. volk stood at the center of it all, his towering figure still unyielding, but even he could feel the shift in the air¡ªlike a storm that refused to relent. "defend yourselves!" volk''s voice thundered, booming louder than the howling winds that tore through his ranks. the orcs roared in response, their war cries defiant, but their movements desperate. shields were raised in shaky formations, their iron surfaces scraping and screeching against each other as the winds battered them relentlessly. even the ogres, their massive bodies hunched and scarred, curled into makeshift barriers of flesh and stone, planting their weapons into the earth to anchor themselves. yet the storm did not stop. the harpies circled above like vultures with a cruel intelligence, their attacks synchronized, their strikes deliberate. from the skies, they hurled jagged stones, imbued with swirling currents of wind magic that made them fall with terrifying speed¡ªeach projectile crashing into the horde with earth-shaking impact. s§×ar?h the novel(f~)ire.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. boom! an ogre groaned as a stone struck his shoulder, splintering his bone with a sickening crack. the massive beast collapsed to his knees, trembling as he tried to lift his club again. crash! an orc screamed as he was hurled backward, a wind blade severing the shield he clutched in two before tearing through his side. he fell, twitching, blood pooling into the trampled dirt. volk''s brow furrowed, his glowing radioactive aura intensifying as he ground his teeth together in fury. "hold the line!" he bellowed, his voice breaking through the chaos. but there was no line to hold. the harpies'' tactics were relentless and maddening. they swooped low, talons outstretched, dragging orcs from the ranks and hurling them into the air like broken dolls. bodies twisted and flailed, falling back to the ground in sickening thuds that made volk''s fists tighten. worse yet, whenever the horde tried to counterattack¡ªhurling spears, shooting arrows, or bellowing war cries¡ªthe harpies simply ascended higher, their mocking laughter echoing like ghostly whispers across the battlefield. and still, the wind did not relent. Chapter 283 Missions volk squinted upward as he saw it again¡ªanother wave. this time, the harpies carried with them sharpened javelins, glinting cruelly as they hovered ominously over the horde like reapers in the clouds.volk''s jaw tightened. "shields up!" he roared. orcs scrambled, raising battered shields above their heads, forming makeshift domes of steel and bone. the ogres growled, hunching their massive bodies over their smaller kin in a show of unity. the harpies struck. fwooooosh! the first wave of javelins fell, hurtling down like deadly rain. the impact was monstrous. shields splintered. screams erupted as the deadly projectiles pierced through armor, embedding themselves deep into flesh. boom! boom! crash! volk''s glowing fists pulsed as he swatted an oncoming javelin out of the air with a swing so powerful that it sent shockwaves across the dirt. but the attacks kept coming, each one breaking away more of their already fraying defenses. all around him, his army crumbled piece by piece. an orc near volk let out a final roar as he was impaled through the chest, his shield useless against the unrelenting barrage. blood sprayed into the air, hot and red against the pale gray sky. volk felt his rage boil as he turned his gaze upward, staring at the circling harpies, their mocking screeches drilling into his ears. he couldn''t reach them¡ªnot from here. and that fact gnawed at his pride, sinking its claws deep. "cowards," volk growled under his breath, his radioactive aura flaring outward with every furious pulse of his body. the earth beneath him cracked as his power intensified, but he knew even his might couldn''t break the skies. more harpies descended in quick swoops, claws lashing at exposed throats, backs, and limbs. some orcs fell outright, others staggered, screaming as blood sprayed in arcs. the winds howled louder, as if the harpies themselves were commanding the very air to suffocate volk''s forces. suddenly, volk caught sight of another attack incoming¡ªa storm of wind magic condensed into spinning vortexes. these attacks carved through the ground like blades, tearing up dirt and flinging orcs aside as if they weighed nothing. volk''s fists trembled at his sides. he gritted his teeth as he forced himself to remain calm. think, think, think! their options were diminishing. the harpies were too high to strike with physical weapons, and magic defenses barely lasted against their unrelenting attacks. "focus on defense!" volk roared, his voice cutting through the storm like a whip. "turtle down until they tire!" continue reading at empire it wasn''t a strategy he relished¡ªdefense had never been volk''s style. but right now, survival outweighed pride. the orcs obeyed. shield domes formed again, bodies clustered tightly together beneath layers of iron and skin. the wounded were dragged into the center of the formations. ogres, their massive bodies riddled with gashes and embedded projectiles, formed a final, outer barrier, their broad backs shielding their smaller brethren. the storm raged on. thwack! a javelin pierced an ogre''s shoulder, sinking deep. the beast grunted but didn''t fall. fwooooosh! another wind blade slashed across an orc''s shield, leaving a gouge the width of a fist. volk planted himself at the front, arms raised high, his radioactive energy radiating like a beacon of defiance. the air around him shimmered with heat and raw power, and even as the winds pushed against him, he stood firm, a mountain amidst a hurricane. the harpies continued their assault, but volk could see the first hints of hesitation in their movements. their cries seemed more frustrated now¡ªless mocking, more impatient. they wanted volk and his forces to break. but they hadn''t broken. not yet. volk grinned through gritted teeth. "is that all you''ve got, cowards?" he snarled toward the skies. and then¡ª ding! the sound cut through the chaos like a bell tolling in the distance. volk froze, his glowing eyes narrowing as the familiar notification rang in his head. then he smiled. --- [new missions available] 1. scare off the harpies (minimal conflict) objective: force the harpies to retreat through sheer intimidation. reward: partial map to orzaroth (section 1 of 4). failure: you and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 2. kill 25 harpies objective: eliminate at least 25 harpies. reward: partial map to orzaroth (section 2 of 4). failure: you and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 3. kill 100 harpies objective: eliminate a significant portion of the harpy flock. reward: partial map to orzaroth (section 3 of 4). failure: you and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 4. kill the harpy commander objective: defeat the harpy leader orchestrating the attack. reward: full map to orzaroth. failure: you and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 5. exterminate the harpy flock objective: wipe out the entire harpy population attacking you. reward: map to orzaroth + elven refugee token. failure: you and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 6. capture a harpy alive objective: capture one harpy without killing it. reward: harpy''s whistle (summons harpies for limited assistance). failure: you and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. --- s~ea??h the novel(f~)ire.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. volk''s radioactive glow pulsed faintly as he stared at the screen, jaw clenched tightly. the windstorm screeched around him, waves of dust and debris swirling violently against his massive figure. his thoughts churned like molten stone. "three years¡­?!" the mere idea gnawed at him, like chains slamming shut around his neck. staying stranded here¡ªin the miserable human lands, surrounded by the constant threat of death and no path forward¡ªwas unacceptable. three years was a lifetime in a war, in a march, in a leader''s journey. his orcs would stagnate, their morale crushed under the weight of futility. he growled low in his throat, his sharp teeth grinding together like iron. "scare off the harpies?" the easiest mission. volk almost laughed. how could he scare an enemy that was raining death from the skies, laughing as they did so? these harpies weren''t frightened prey. they were predators¡ªagile, untouchable, and taunting. to scare them off without shedding their blood would require overwhelming intimidation¡­ but volk''s forces were already battered. his warriors were struggling just to shield themselves. a show of power would require resources volk didn''t want to waste. "no," volk muttered, voice rumbling like distant thunder. "weak leaders scare off their enemies. strong leaders end them." "kill 25 harpies?" a reasonable challenge. twenty-five was a small dent in their numbers, enough to turn the tide and force a retreat. but volk frowned, his glowing gaze narrowing as he calculated the risks. it would require breaking their defensive formation¡ªsending his orcs out into the open, where harpy talons and wind blades could tear through their ranks like wheat before the scythe. the cost in lives would be steep. is a quarter of the map worth it? volk thought bitterly. "kill 100 harpies." this was an escalation¡ªa bloodbath waiting to happen. if his forces were already struggling to survive a relentless storm, how could they hope to eliminate a hundred of the winged fiends? even if they succeeded, their losses would cripple the horde, leaving them vulnerable for the journey ahead. volk''s pride bristled at the thought of the harpies grinding his army down through sheer attrition. "damnable birds," volk spat. "kill the harpy commander." now this mission¡­ volk''s eyes glinted darkly. if he could strike at their leader, it would send the entire flock spiraling into disarray. a decapitated force was a broken force, and volk understood that better than anyone. this was his favorite option¡ªquick, decisive, brutal. but there was a problem: the harpy commander was undoubtedly hidden. somewhere high above the battlefield, beyond reach, watching his forces like a spider in its web. volk clenched his fists. reaching the leader would require a solution¡ªsome way to defy the skies. "could we¡­" volk paused, his mind spinning. he''d need magic, catapults, something to bring the harpies to him. he filed the thought away for later. "exterminate the harpy flock." the boldest mission. the most rewarding. the map, plus the elven refugee token¡ªa diplomatic bargaining chip he desperately needed. if volk could annihilate the harpies here, he would achieve absolute dominance over the battlefield, and his path to the elven lands would become clearer than ever before. but volk was no fool. extermination wasn''t a challenge. it was a war. to kill every single harpy meant outlasting them, breaking their will, and fighting to the very last. the cost in orc lives would be devastating. could they even survive such a battle? "ambitious," volk murmured, "but madness if unprepared. "capture a harpy alive?" volk''s brow furrowed. the strangest option. why capture one? it wasn''t volk''s style to take prisoners when he could leave behind corpses. yet the harpy''s whistle was intriguing¡ªan item capable of summoning the very creatures currently attacking them. turning enemies into tools? that was tempting. but how would they even capture a harpy? the moment his warriors lunged to grapple one, they''d be torn apart midair. the harpies would never allow themselves to be caught. "risky. impractical," volk muttered. Chapter 284 To the Trees the wind roared like a living beast, its claws tearing through the air as the harpies continued their relentless assault.high above, dark, winged shapes twisted and dove, their talons gleaming like polished daggers, their wind spells slicing into flesh and armor alike. volk''s forces were faltering. ogres groaned under the pressure, orcs bled through their teeth, shields trembling as the wind blasts beat against them like invisible war hammers. the cries of anguish mixed with guttural growls of defiance as volk''s horde tried to hold their ground, but the air was a merciless enemy. volk stood at the center of the chaos, unyielding, radiating raw power, his radioactive glow flickering erratically as his eyes narrowed. he watched his warriors suffer. he watched them bleed. and he would not allow this to continue. his fist shot into the air¡ªan immediate and commanding signal. the orcs froze. the ogres paused mid-groan. even amidst the onslaught, volk''s presence demanded obedience. his voice erupted like a thunderclap, louder than the windstorm itself, his orders booming across the battlefield. "to the trees!" the command echoed, rolling over the horde like a wave of fire. at first, there was hesitation¡ªconfusion writ large across the battered faces of his soldiers. the orcs blinked, panting, their shields shaking. the ogres, already hunched from pain, glanced up at the twisted branches of the towering, ancient trees that ringed the field. "move, you worthless maggots!" volk roared, the force of his shout sending ripples through the ground itself. "the skies are death! hide in the heights! go¡ªbefore i make you regret every breath you take!" the words were enough. orcs, battered and bloody, scrambled into motion. their shields clattered as they abandoned their positions, sprinting toward the line of colossal trees that bordered the battlefield. towering giants of bark and branch, their limbs stretched toward the heavens like grasping claws¡ªold and gnarled, ancient sentinels of nature untouched by war. ogres followed with heavy, limping steps, their massive frames dragging behind, shoulders hunched to shield themselves from the harpies'' deadly swoops. the air screamed with the sound of talons scraping steel, of wind magic crashing like invisible axes, but volk''s forces moved with desperation. volk stalked forward, his radioactive glow spreading like an ominous haze around him. "faster!" he barked, his voice cracking like a whip. "or do you want to be picked apart like cattle?" the orcs didn''t need telling twice. they reached the trees, weapons strapped to their backs, fingers clawing into rough bark as they began their frantic climb. the old trunks groaned under their weight as dozens¡ªhundreds¡ªof green-skinned warriors scrambled upward, disappearing into the shadows of the canopy. branches creaked and snapped under the ogres'' heavy hands as they dragged themselves into cover, growling with effort. find your next read at empire above, the harpies screeched. their victory cry turned into something angrier, more frustrated, as their prey scattered beneath the protection of the forest. the dense foliage, like a fortress of nature, obstructed their view and disrupted their attacks. wind blades sliced into branches, but they didn''t reach flesh. volk''s lips curled into a grim smirk as he stalked to the forest''s edge, his radioactive glow flickering ominously as he watched his horde vanish into the shadows. within the twisting labyrinth of branches, the orcs found confidence again. they hid within the dense canopy, crouching on thick limbs, their breaths ragged but steady. the harpies'' slicing winds still echoed above, but they could not reach them. the orcs grinned as they peered upward, their predator instincts slowly returning. for once, they were hidden¡ªunseen¡ªand in the shadows, they were dangerous. some began to draw their bows. others quietly fingered their axes, waiting. the ogres clung to the lower branches, their heavy breaths shaking the leaves around them as they stared upward with narrowed eyes. volk prowled through the dark undergrowth below, his footsteps thunderous despite his attempts to move quietly. his presence was unshakable. he moved from tree to tree, his sharp voice carrying up through the canopy as he addressed his warriors. "listen closely," he growled, his tone low and full of dark promise. sear?h the n??efire.¦Çet website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "we wait here. we think here. the skies are their strength¡ªbut they are also their weakness. let them swoop. let them taunt. we will not be cattle beneath their claws." the orcs listened, their sharp eyes glinting from above. volk could feel their morale rising, their confidence being rekindled. he paused at the base of one of the trees, his massive form still glowing faintly. he tilted his head upward, his crimson gaze burning through the shadows. "be ready," volk continued, his voice quieter now but no less commanding. "we are patient hunters. this is our ground now. the fools above cannot take what they cannot see. and when i give the signal¡ª" volk''s grin widened, his teeth flashing. "¡ªwe drag them down, screaming." --- volk leaned back against the gnarled trunk of a tree, the radioactive haze around him pulsing faintly in time with his breath. his muscles remained tense, his mind a storm of thoughts. he needed a strategy. as strong as his forces were, the skies were untouchable, and brute strength alone would not win this battle. he closed his eyes for the briefest moment, his massive frame still as stone. the gnawing weight of his earlier decision¡ªrejecting the system missions¡ªclawed at the back of his mind. he''d gambled on hiding, on biding his time, but he could not deny the danger his forces were in. "is this enough?" he muttered to himself. above, the harpies screamed in frustration, unable to find their quarry. talons slashed fruitlessly at branches, wind magic shattered against bark, but it was all wasted effort. the horde remained hidden, silent hunters waiting in the dark. for now. --- volk''s glowing eyes narrowed as he peered through the branches. this temporary respite would not last long, and he knew it. the harpies were intelligent. persistent. they would find a way to flush them out¡ªso volk needed to act first. he needed to think. the ground trembled faintly beneath his boots as he stepped forward, his gaze still upward, his mind spinning through possibilities. how could he reach them? how could he strike back? "hiding won''t save us forever," volk growled quietly to himself, more for his own ears than anyone else''s. "we''ll need to bleed them. but first¡ª" he exhaled deeply, the radioactive light around him pulsing brighter as his resolve hardened. "we think. we plan. and then we take their wings." high above, the harpies continued their search, screeching angrily into the dark canopy. but the horde waited, silent and deadly, like coiled vipers ready to strike. the forest had become their refuge. for now. Chapter 285 Nowhere to run the forest trembled.at first, it was subtle¡ªa faint rustling that could have been mistaken for the wind. the leaves shivered, and the branches swayed, their movements erratic and unnatural. a strange quiet settled over the hidden horde. the usual sounds of battle above¡ªthe screeching of harpies, the gusts of slicing wind¡ªseemed to dull, muffled by some invisible force. volk''s brow furrowed. his glowing eyes scanned the canopy, sensing something amiss. the orcs and ogres in the branches froze, gripping their weapons tighter as an eerie tension seeped into the air, like the calm before a violent storm. then it began. crack. a single, sharp sound echoed through the forest. a branch splintered violently above, falling with a slow, almost deliberate grace. the broken limb crashed to the ground, leaves scattering like droplets of blood. the orcs glanced around, confused. their nerves were taut. crack-crack. another sound. then another. louder this time. closer. branches snapped and groaned in protest, their wood splintering with unnatural force. leaves cascaded downward, fluttering like green snow, caught in erratic bursts of wind that shouldn''t have been there. "w-what''s happening?" one orc muttered, his voice breaking the uneasy silence. volk''s gaze snapped upward, his senses sharp. his radioactive glow intensified as his instincts screamed at him. something was wrong. and then, the first tree fell. booooooom! s§×ar?h the n?vel_fire.¦Çet website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. the earth shook with the impact. a mighty trunk, thicker than ten orcs standing shoulder to shoulder, exploded at the base, sending it toppling like a titan brought low. leaves and debris erupted into the air, choking the light and filling the canopy with chaos. the orcs above screamed, clutching at branches as they swayed dangerously, nearly throwing them off. the ogres on the lower limbs flinched, their massive hands gripping bark as the vibrations pulsed through the trees. one of them lost his balance, crashing to the ground below with a sickening thud. volk''s roar cut through the madness. "hold your ground!" but it didn''t stop. craaaaaack¡ªbooooom! another tree splintered and fell, its massive trunk shearing through smaller branches like a blade through flesh. the roots, ripped violently from the earth, sent cascades of soil and stones flying. the noise was deafening¡ªa primal symphony of snapping wood, collapsing giants, and screaming warriors. the orcs could only watch helplessly as the forest, their shelter, turned against them. the canopy that once protected them now betrayed them, raining down destruction. leaves fell like a torrential downpour, their bright green turning black with dirt and blood. volk''s eyes darted across the collapsing grove, trying to pinpoint the source of the destruction. his mind raced. what was causing this? the harpies? no. this was something else¡ªsomething bigger. "what in the pit is happening?!" volk bellowed, his voice shaking the branches near him. above, the harpies circled, their laughter echoing like haunting bells. they weren''t attacking anymore¡ªthey were watching. enjoying the spectacle. crack. booooom. crack. booooom. tree after tree was ripped apart. mighty trunks groaned as their ancient bodies gave way, shattered by some unseen force. entire portions of the forest began to fall like dominos, their roots screaming as they were torn free from the earth. ogres bellowed in confusion, their massive bodies forced to leap from collapsing branches. some landed with crushing force, rolling to their feet with bloodied limbs. .orcs clung to the swaying canopy, only to be thrown loose as their perch gave way beneath them. "volk! what do we do?!" an orc screamed from above, his voice shrill and panicked. your next read is at empire volk''s hands curled into fists, his radioactive glow pulsing brighter¡ªan ominous beacon of his fury. "get down! everyone¡ªon the ground! now!" his command sent a ripple through the horde. orcs scrambled down tree trunks, sliding and leaping in desperation. ogres dropped like boulders, their massive frames crashing into the earth, shaking it anew. but the destruction wasn''t stopping. the falling trees were like a wave of annihilation, crashing closer, ever closer. it was as if the forest itself had turned into a living storm, tearing itself apart to devour them. volk''s gaze whipped upward just in time to see a massive tree hurtling toward him. its roots were still clinging to chunks of earth as it fell with terrifying speed. "move!" volk dove to the side just as the tree crashed into the ground, sending an earth-shaking shockwave that rippled outward. dirt and debris exploded into the air, chunks of wood flying like shrapnel. volk rolled to his feet, his radioactive glow now a searing blaze against the darkening chaos. the horde gathered on the ground, panting and bleeding, their numbers scattered amidst the debris. the air was thick with dust and falling leaves, the light dimmed by the storm of destruction. volk stood at the center, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. his glowing red eyes burned as he glared at the horizon, where the destruction seemed to have started¡ªan unseen force still tearing its way closer. the harpies were still above, circling like vultures, their mocking laughter echoing through the chaos. volk could feel their gaze¡ªpiercing, judging¡ªas if they reveled in his struggle. "you think this will stop us?" volk growled, his voice like a rumbling earthquake. "is that it?! hah! you cowards can burn this forest to the ground, and we''ll still find you! we''ll tear you out of the sky with our bare hands!" the harpies gave no reply. only more laughter. but volk felt it then¡ªa shift in the air. a gnawing sensation. the source of the destruction was close. very close. the ground rumbled beneath his boots, faint at first, like distant thunder. his warriors felt it too, their eyes widening in terror as the earth trembled once more. volk''s glare narrowed. he stood tall, unbroken, despite the chaos around him. "whatever comes for us next, let it try," he growled to himself, his radioactive glow blazing brighter as he prepared for the unknown. the forest fell silent for a breath¡ªa single, fragile moment of calm. and then the next tree exploded. the destruction surged forward, unstoppable and hungry. Chapter 286 Cave the chaos seemed endless.the roaring winds above, the screeching laughter of the harpies, and the relentless destruction crashing through the forest were an orchestra of calamity. the horde¡ªogres and orcs alike¡ªwas caught in a storm of panic and fury, the ground trembling beneath them as trees shattered and fell like brittle bones. leaves swirled in violent spirals, whipped up by unseen currents, coating the ground like a carpet of decay. volk clenched his jaw as he surveyed the battlefield, his glowing red eyes flickering through the choking dust and debris. his horde was faltering. the once mighty ogres, some already bruised and bloodied, were stumbling over toppled trunks and sinking into the disrupted earth. the orcs, whose confidence had been unshakable mere minutes ago, were now shouting and snarling in desperation, leaping and darting to avoid falling debris and piercing attacks from above. "move! keep moving!" volk''s voice thundered through the chaos like a war drum, a beacon of authority cutting through the growing fear. but even as he barked orders, volk knew the truth. this wasn''t sustainable. above, the harpies soared through the darkened sky like malevolent wraiths, their wings slashing through the air as they unleashed their devastating wind magic. each gust was a blade¡ªa merciless assault that could slice through flesh, tear apart armor, and leave deep wounds in the earth. your next journey awaits at empire fwoosh. slash. the sound was incessant, an unending whistle of death as warriors fell to their knees, their bodies marred by wounds that sprayed blood like crimson mist. "aaaghhh!" a nearby orc stumbled, clutching his side where a deep gash had been carved. another collapsed, his head whipping back from a sudden blow. volk watched as a third orc, attempting to sprint forward, was snatched mid-air by an unseen force¡ªhis limbs flailing wildly before a shrill screech echoed above and his body was hurled back down, shattering against a stone with a sickening crunch. volk growled, a deep, rumbling sound of frustration and fury. he could feel the harpies mocking him¡ªtheir screeches and laughter taunting his inability to strike back. his forces were exposed. vulnerable. and every second that passed saw their numbers thinning further. the ground beneath volk shuddered as another massive tree crashed down, exploding into splinters and broken bark that flew in every direction. the wind carried the smaller shards, slashing at exposed skin and armor alike. an ogre beside him staggered as one of the larger fragments impaled his shoulder, sending the beast roaring in pain before dropping to one knee. "volk! what do we do?!" an orc captain shouted over the din, his voice hoarse and panicked as he shielded his face from the storm of debris. volk''s eyes narrowed. he felt the weight of their desperation, their fear clinging to him like a heavy chain. but beneath that, deep within, his fury burned. it blazed¡ªunrelenting, unstoppable, and ready to explode. he would not let this horde crumble beneath him. not here. not today. "shield up! form lines! don''t stop moving!" he roared, his voice booming with such power that even the harpies above seemed to hesitate for a moment. "use the fallen trees for cover! anything! we do not break! do you hear me? we do not break!" the orcs and ogres scrambled to obey, their movements frantic but fueled by his words. they began clustering behind fallen trunks, using the shattered remains of the forest as makeshift barricades. the wind magic still struck hard, fwoosh! slash!, but now it met the resistance of solid wood, leaving long scars across the bark rather than slicing flesh. volk''s eyes darted toward the treetops, trying to spot the harpies amid the swirling dust and leaves. there had to be a way out of this. every instinct in him screamed to keep moving, to find shelter, to outmaneuver their airborne tormentors. staying here meant death¡ªeither by the harpies'' attacks or by the forest collapsing around them. another gust of wind tore through the canopy, shattering branches like glass and sending sharp splinters raining down. volk snarled, covering his face with one thick arm as the debris sliced shallow wounds across his forearm. "damn them!" an ogre nearby, barely visible through the choking dust, bellowed as a falling branch crashed onto his back, driving him to the ground. the beast struggled, shaking the massive limb off his shoulders before rising again, blood streaking his gray skin. volk growled, his patience fraying. his gaze flickered across the battlefield, searching, searching¡ªthere had to be something. a plan. an opening. a chance. "look for cover! find a path out of this place!" he barked to his horde, his voice rising above the chaos. the forest groaned as more trees splintered and fell, but volk refused to give in to despair. he scanned the horizon, his glowing eyes cutting through the swirling dust and shadows. the air was thick, suffocating, and every breath burned with the taste of dirt and blood. he could hear his warriors shouting¡ªorders, curses, cries of pain¡ªas the harpies continued their relentless assault. suddenly, through the haze, volk saw it. a gap in the carnage. a dark mouth carved into the earth, partially obscured by fallen trees and debris. it was a cave¡ªhidden, unassuming, but unmistakably there. the ground around it had been torn up, likely from the collapsing trees, revealing its entrance like a secret waiting to be discovered. volk''s eyes narrowed, his mind snapping into focus. "there!" he roared, pointing a clawed finger toward the cave. "to the cave! now! all of you! move! move!" the orcs and ogres hesitated for only a heartbeat before obeying. sear?h the n?vel_fire.¦Çet website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. they surged forward, scrambling over fallen trunks and shattered branches, ducking beneath the relentless slashes of wind. volk turned, his gaze snapping upward to where the harpies circled. their silhouettes cut across the swirling dust like dark wraiths. he could feel their eyes on him, mocking, laughing¡ªas if they believed they had him cornered. but volk grinned, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. "you''ll regret this." he turned and began running, his massive frame tearing through the battlefield as he led his horde toward the cave. the sound of harpy screeches followed him¡ªangry, frantic¡ªas if they had sensed his intent. the wind magic intensified, fwoosh! slash!, but volk did not falter. the cave loomed ahead, dark and gaping, a promise of refuge. and a chance. volk''s mind raced as he sprinted forward, his boots pounding against the earth. he needed a plan. a way to strike back. a way to turn the tide. and as he dove into the shadowed mouth of the cave, he knew he would find it. one way or another. Chapter 287 Better idea the cave was dark, its vast walls swallowing the flickering torchlight and stretching into a shadowed abyss.the air inside was heavy, stale, and tinged with the metallic scent of blood. the horde of orcs and ogres had stumbled in, panting and injured, their massive frames huddled together in exhaustion. deep gashes marred their limbs, jagged wounds oozing thick blood that pooled slowly on the cold stone floor. every heavy breath they took echoed against the stone walls like low, mournful groans. for a time, there was only silence¡ªa crushing, oppressive silence¡ªbroken only by the faint whimpering of a wounded orc who clutched his bleeding side. a single torch was thrust into the ground, its flame sputtering weakly as if it, too, might die out at any moment. then, one of the larger ogres stepped forward, his footsteps booming like distant thunder. his face was contorted in a mixture of pain and anger, a snarl curling his lips. he jabbed a thick, bloodied finger toward the rest of the horde. "enough! we can''t sit here like cowards!" his voice roared through the cave, shaking loose dust and pebbles from above. "they attacked us! they slaughtered our brothers! are we going to let those winged bastards pick us apart and mock us? huh? is that what we are now?!" enjoy exclusive adventures from empire the gathered warriors let out low growls and murmurs of agreement, their collective anger simmering like lava beneath their wounded forms. orcs muttered curses under their breath. ogres pounded their fists into the stone floor, the vibrations carrying their frustration deeper into the cave''s depths. "revenge," snarled a smaller but fierce-looking orc captain, his tusks stained red from blood. "we take revenge. we don''t let this insult stand. those birds won''t leave this cave alive once they come looking for us." "aye! they''ll regret flying low enough to fight us!" another voice joined in, a grizzled orc warrior whose face was marred by deep scars and burns. his single remaining eye blazed with vengeance. "we trap this cave. make it their grave. bury them in stone and fire! they''ll choke on their own pride!" an ogre at the back growled lowly. "traps alone aren''t enough. those harpies are fast, faster than we are. if we fight them in the open again, we''ll be cut down before we even see them coming. we can''t afford to lose more of our numbers." the crowd stirred at this, their murmurs turning more heated as disagreements broke out. "then what do you suggest?!" barked one of the larger orc captains, his thick arms crossed as he glared at the ogre who spoke. "sit here and wait to die? because that''s all that''ll happen if we don''t strike back now." "no, you fool," snapped the ogre, baring his jagged teeth. "we need to lure them inside. trap them where their wings are useless. once they''re in here, they''re ours. we''ll crush them. break their bones with our hands. rip their wings from their backs and hang their carcasses from the walls!" the orcs erupted into approving snarls, their bloodlust momentarily overriding their exhaustion. "and how do we do that, huh?" someone shouted from the crowd. "how do we drag them in here? they''re cowards! they won''t fight us in tight spaces. they''ll just keep striking us from above!" a silence fell again, though this one was thick with tension. the problem was clear. the harpies had the advantage in speed and height. even now, hiding in the cave, volk''s horde was trapped¡ªcornered like prey, wounded, and bleeding out. any misstep could see them wiped out entirely. "smoke," suggested one of the quieter orcs suddenly, stepping forward and catching the attention of the others. "we burn wood at the cave entrance. thick smoke. clouds they can''t see through. they''ll have to come inside or fly blind." a few heads nodded at this, but another orc growled. "and what happens when they don''t come? huh? when they just wait outside, circling us like vultures? we''ll die in here, choking on the same smoke we make! that''s suicide!" the tension boiled over as warriors began shouting over one another. ideas and plans were hurled like spears, each one met with either snarls of agreement or scornful growls. "collapse the entrance! trap them inside with us! we''ll fight them to the last!" "no! collapse the entrance and we''ll be buried too, idiot!" "use bait! send out scouts to lure them in! we''ll ambush them once they''re close enough!" "too risky. we''re too weak. if they catch the scouts, they''ll slaughter them and come back for us anyway!" back and forth the arguments raged, their voices bouncing off the stone walls in a cacophony of frustration and desperation. volk sat silently through it all, his massive frame hunched forward on a rock at the cave''s center. his crimson eyes stared down at the floor, unblinking and unreadable, while the horde''s chaotic discussion swirled around him like a storm. minutes passed. perhaps an hour. the fire from the single torch crackled faintly, the only steady sound amidst the noise. the wounded groaned softly in the corners, their bodies tended to by others, but their fate seemed no better than the rest. finally, the shouting began to die down. exhaustion had crept into their voices¡ªdesperation taking its place. many warriors slumped back against the stone walls, their initial fire replaced with wary determination. s§×arch* the ¦Çovelfire.¦Çet website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "so traps it is, then," muttered the scarred orc captain bitterly, spitting blood to the side. "we''ll rig the whole cave¡ªwalls, floor, even the ceiling. if those damn harpies follow us in here, they won''t live to see daylight again. we''ll crush them. even if it''s the last thing we do." grunts of agreement rippled through the group, and slowly, the warriors began to nod. it wasn''t perfect, but it was a plan¡ªa sliver of hope in the darkness. and then¡ª "wait." volk''s voice cut through the air like a blade, low and rumbling but full of an undeniable authority. the warriors froze mid-movement, all heads turning toward him. volk slowly rose to his feet, his towering form casting a long, monstrous shadow across the cave floor. his red eyes gleamed faintly in the torchlight as he stared down at the gathered horde, his expression calm, controlled¡ªbut dangerous. "i have a better idea." the words were spoken softly, but they carried with them an ominous weight¡ªone that made even the fiercest warriors shift uneasily on their feet. for a moment, there was only silence. the sound of dripping blood echoed faintly in the distance, the only noise as volk''s words settled over the group like a heavy fog. then, quietly, volk began to smile. Chapter 288 Plan the flickering torchlight cast shadows over volk''s face as he stood tall amidst the wounded, weary horde.his crimson eyes glowed faintly, their sharp gleam cutting through the lingering darkness like shards of molten iron. the air in the cave was heavy¡ªso thick with tension that every ragged breath, every subtle movement of the wounded, seemed to press against the walls. the horde watched him with a mix of awe and uncertainty, their bloodied forms frozen in place as if the weight of his mere presence held them still. volk tilted his head slightly, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips as his gaze swept across the horde. his voice came out deep, smooth, and deliberate¡ªeach word rolling like thunder, both calm and full of raw power. "your plans are good." the warriors stirred slightly, pride flickering across their tired faces. it was rare for volk to offer praise, and those two words carried the weight of a hundred compliments. he gestured toward the scarred orc captain, his clawed hand slicing lazily through the air. "a trap. simple, effective, and bloodthirsty. they follow us into the cave, and we collapse the ceiling over their heads. quick death. clean. brutal. that''s how we like it, isn''t it?" the scarred captain grunted approvingly, his single eye flashing with a mixture of pride and bloodlust. the other orcs and ogres murmured in agreement. volk turned to the smaller orc strategist, who had suggested smoke and bait. his smirk softened slightly, though his tone remained as commanding as ever. "smoke to blind them. clever. we''ve never fought harpies before, and you''d use their speed against them. "turn their skies into a graveyard of shadows where wings are useless, and their claws will grasp only empty air. you understand war well. your mind is sharp." the orc strategist puffed his chest out, a hint of pride replacing his earlier anxiety. he looked at his peers with a glare, as if daring them to challenge his brilliance. volk didn''t stop there. his gaze shifted to the massive ogre at the back¡ªthe one who had suggested luring the harpies inside and tearing them apart limb by limb. volk''s smile turned predatory, a hint of menace curling at the edges of his lips. "and you. you want to rip them apart with your bare hands. to snap their bones. to dangle their wings from your fists like trophies. that''s the heart of a true warrior. the kind of ferocity that shakes the ground and tells the enemy their death is coming." the massive ogre growled softly in approval, his chest rumbling like a dormant volcano ready to erupt. his fists clenched at his sides, itching for the fight volk described. volk slowly began pacing around the flickering torch, his enormous form casting shifting shadows across the cave walls. his voice grew heavier, darker¡ªfilling the silent chamber with a steady pulse of authority that wrapped around every soul like an iron chain. "all of you have thought well. your blood burns with rage. your minds scream for revenge. and your plans? they are solid. worthy of this horde." a murmur of satisfaction rippled through the warriors, their shoulders squaring as they stood a little taller. volk''s praise was rare, and the weight of his approval filled them with a fresh spark of energy¡ªraw and unrelenting, as if the very act of hearing his voice had reignited their will to fight. experience tales with empire but just as quickly, volk''s smirk vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp snort. the sound echoed off the stone walls, jarring in its abruptness. his crimson eyes narrowed into slits, their glow intensifying as his face twisted into something like scorn. "but it''s not enough." the murmurs died instantly. warriors blinked and stiffened, their pride faltering as they looked at him with uncertainty. volk stepped forward, his heavy boots striking the stone floor like war drums. each step resonated through the cave, his looming figure pulling their attention as if he were a force of nature itself. he raised his chin, his voice dropping into a slow, measured cadence that filled every crevice of the cavern. "you think the harpies will come here without caution? without suspicion? they''re beasts of the sky. they strike from above, where they can watch us like prey. they''ve already seen us bleed. they''ve seen us run. they think we''re weak, broken, crawling into the shadows to lick our wounds." volk let those words hang in the air, his gaze burning into every warrior before him. "and that is exactly what we must let them believe." the horde exchanged glances, their faces twisting in confusion. a few orcs shifted uneasily, while the ogres furrowed their brows, uncertain of what volk was suggesting. one of the captains cleared his throat and stepped forward. "but volk, if we hide¡ªif we let them think we''re weak¡ªthey''ll press their advantage. they''ll pick us off one by one." volk''s crimson eyes flashed, and the captain immediately took a step back. volk raised his fist, the sharp claws catching the torchlight as his voice grew colder, more calculated. "listen to me." the cave seemed to freeze around him, his words snapping like a whip. "we will not lay our traps here. no, we will draw them in deeper. further into the cave¡ªinto the abyss where light doesn''t reach, where they cannot use their speed. they will think we''ve fled¡ªtoo wounded, too broken to stand and fight. they will follow. and when they do, they will be walking into their own graves." a collective murmur rippled through the horde, understanding beginning to dawn on their faces. "but volk," one of the orc strategists called out hesitantly. "what if there''s¡­ something else deeper in the cave? what if we''re not alone in here?" the question hung heavy in the air, the shadows of the cave suddenly seeming darker, deeper¡ªas if they were listening, waiting. the horde shifted uneasily. whispers of monsters and horrors hiding in uncharted places flickered through their minds. volk stopped pacing. he turned toward the speaker, his expression unyielding, his red eyes blazing like coals pulled from the depths of a furnace. slowly, volk raised his fist, his massive hand clenching so tightly that the leather of his gauntlet groaned under the strain. the gesture alone sent a wave of reassurance through the horde¡ªa silent declaration of power and resolve. "then we will kill it." the words were spoken with such finality, such raw confidence, that it shattered the lingering doubt in the air. volk''s crimson eyes swept across his warriors, and he bared his teeth in a savage, dangerous grin. "if there''s a monster deep in this cave, we''ll tear it apart. we''ll rip it limb from limb and drink its blood if we have to. nothing will stop us. not the harpies. not this cave. not whatever darkness lies ahead. because we are the horde. and we do not break." the horde erupted into a chorus of growls and snarls, their bloodlust reignited. warriors slammed their weapons against the stone floor, the sound echoing through the cavern like a war chant. ogres pounded their fists into their chests, their deep roars shaking the walls. the injured bared their teeth, pushing through their pain as they raised their fists in solidarity. volk stood amidst the chaos, unmoving, unyielding¡ªthe storm at the center of it all. his crimson eyes burned brighter than ever, he was ready. s~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lfire .net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 289 No traps the harpy warband circled the cavernous entrance like a flock of dark omens silhouetted against the twilight sky.their wings sliced through the wind with rhythmic precision, carrying them effortlessly in wide, lazy arcs above the jagged maw of the cave. their iridescent feathers shimmered faintly under the failing light, each beat of their wings scattering dust and debris into the air below. the hum of their gliding flight resonated faintly across the valley, an eerie whisper that underscored the stillness settling over the land. the harpy leader¡ªa tall, sinewy figure with charcoal-colored feathers streaked with silver¡ªhovered slightly above the others. his wings extended gracefully, his sharp talons curling and uncurling with agitation as his piercing yellow eyes fixed on the dark void of the cave''s entrance. his gaze was predatory, scanning every shadow, every crevice, as though daring something within to make a move. and yet, nothing came. no movement. no sound. just the yawning mouth of the cavern staring back at him like a beast lying in wait. the other harpies circled lower, gliding smoothly over the terrain as their sharp eyes combed through the brush, the boulders, and the faint tracks left behind by the orcs and ogres. their talons skimmed the ground lightly as they banked into turns, their feathers ruffling against the wind before they ascended again into the air. a few of them barked terse observations to one another, their voices sharp and birdlike¡ªclipped sounds that cut through the silence like blades. "tracks lead inward. fresh. they didn''t scatter. they all went in together." "what of the traps?" came another voice, sharper this time. it was from a younger harpy who dipped low, sweeping close enough to the ground to disturb a patch of dirt before lifting into the air again. "there''s nothing. no pits. no tripwires. no spikes. not a single sign of a trap anywhere near the entrance." s§×ar?h the n?vel(f)ire.n§×t website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "unlikely," another harpy interjected, her tone cold and skeptical as she narrowed her keen eyes. her green feathers bristled slightly against the wind. "they''re orcs. vengeful creatures. sloppy with their rage, but cunning in their own brutish way. why would they retreat without leaving something behind?" a murmur of agreement rippled through the circling flock. the leader frowned deeply, his thin lips curling into a snarl as he descended further into the airspace above the cave. he hovered for a long moment, his wings beating softly as his gaze swept over the entrance. it was dark¡ªpitch black¡ªand uncomfortably quiet. he clicked his beak-like teeth together softly, his eyes narrowing as an unsettling thought began to gnaw at the edges of his mind. "they''re hiding something," he muttered, his voice barely louder than a growl. "they know we''d expect traps. they know we''d be cautious. this silence isn''t an accident. it''s deliberate." the younger harpy from before flapped into place beside him, her expression torn between confusion and curiosity. "but leader, if they wanted us to think there were traps, wouldn''t that mean there are traps? or¡­ no? are we overthinking it?" "of course we are, you fool!" barked another harpy, who swooped closer to join the conversation, his impatience evident. his blood-red feathers ruffled as he gestured toward the cavern. "they''ve gone in. maybe they''ve given up. maybe they''re licking their wounds deep in that cave. maybe they''re too broken to fight. why else would they retreat so far in without a single fight or barricade?" "it''s a bluff." the leader''s voice snapped across the group like a whip. the harpies quieted at once, their circling growing slower and tighter as they focused on him. his eyes glowed faintly with intensity as he continued, his tone sharp and commanding. "they know we''re watching. they know we''d expect resistance at the entrance. but think¡ªhow many times have we fought orcs? how many times have they retreated, only to draw us into their traps? if we charge in recklessly, they''ll have us exactly where they want us." "but there are no traps, leader." the statement came from another harpy, this one with an air of calm confidence about her. she swooped low, gliding over the ground just outside the cave and sweeping it with a sharp gaze. "we''ve flown close. we''ve scouted every corner of the brush and stones around the entrance. there are no markings. no signs of pits. no pressure stones. nothing. it''s too clean. too empty." a tense silence fell over the group as they processed the words. the wind picked up slightly, tugging at their feathers and scattering dry leaves across the ground. the cave loomed in the background, as silent and still as it had been when they arrived. the leader clenched his talons, his wings flaring slightly as his frustration simmered to the surface. "then what are they playing at? orcs don''t just give up. they''re too stupid for something like that. so tell me¡ªif there are no traps, if they''ve fallen silent, why are they waiting?" no one answered. the harpies circled lower now, their movements slower and more deliberate. the tension among them grew like a suffocating fog, each of them glancing warily at the cavernous opening below. the shadows within seemed deeper now¡ªdarker¡ªlike an abyss that swallowed everything whole. another harpy finally spoke, her voice shaky. "what if they''re dead? or¡­ waiting for something? maybe there''s nothing left to fight." "then why are there no bodies?" the leader snapped, his yellow eyes flashing dangerously as he glared at her. "if they fought something else inside, there would be remains. blood. signs of struggle. no¡ªthis is deliberate. this is their game." and yet, as the minutes dragged on and nothing happened¡ªno movement, no sound¡ªthe leader''s suspicion began to waver. the shadows remained still. the silence stretched endlessly. another harpy, the youngest of the group, finally broke the stalemate. with a burst of impatience, he tucked his wings and dove toward the ground, landing in a crouch just outside the cave. the soft thud of his talons echoed faintly against the stone. "there''s nothing here, leader!" he called back, his voice ringing with smug defiance. "we''re wasting our time! look! no traps! nothing!" the others exchanged hesitant glances. one by one, a handful of them followed his lead, gliding down to perch on the rocks and soil near the cave''s entrance. their wings folded close to their bodies as they scanned the ground one last time. and still¡ªnothing. no movement. no traps. experience exclusive tales on empire the leader hovered above, his eyes narrowing further as a sense of unease crept up his spine. the quiet¡­ the emptiness¡­ it was unnatural. but as more harpies descended, the pressure grew. he couldn''t deny them forever. finally, with a sharp exhale, he dropped toward the ground, his talons skimming against the dirt as he landed heavily. the rest of the harpies followed suit, their forms clustering near the cave entrance like a pack of vultures sensing weakness. "fine," the leader growled, though his voice remained taut with distrust. he looked toward the darkness beyond, the flickering shadows dancing against the walls of the cave like silent sentinels. "if the cowards want to hide, we''ll drag them out ourselves. prepare to enter¡ª" the words barely left his mouth before something deeper inside the cave shifted. Chapter 290 Discussion a tense, simmering silence followed the harpy leader''s sharp command. the words "prepare to enter" hung in the air like a poison cloud, and it wasn''t long before dissent began to ripple through the gathered flock. first came the shuffling of talons against stone¡ªthe restless scraping of claws as several harpies hesitated, their wings twitching nervously. then, the murmurs started. soft at first, uncertain whispers exchanged between uneasy comrades, but they grew louder, sharper, like cracks spidering across glass."why should we go in?" one harpy finally blurted, her voice cutting through the heavy stillness. she was a smaller figure, her pale green feathers shivering with agitation as she turned toward the leader. "what proof do we have that they''re even worth pursuing? the orcs are vengeful, yes¡ªbut they''re not clever. if they''re hiding, let them rot in there. why risk our necks to pull them out?" the leader''s yellow eyes flared, his talons curling into fists, but before he could snap back, another voice joined the dissent. read exclusive content at empire "she''s right. this stinks of a trap!" this harpy, taller and broad-shouldered with streaks of crimson feathers along his arms, stepped forward. his beak-like teeth clicked with frustration as his wings extended slightly for emphasis. "we''ve seen it before. orcs lure enemies in when they''re weak and desperate. you said it yourself¡ªthey''re vengeful. what if they''re just waiting to collapse the cave on top of us? what if we''re walking into their graves along with them?" "and what if we''re overthinking it?" another harpy snapped back, her voice a sharp screech as she spun on her talons to glare at the dissenters. her deep violet feathers bristled against the wind as she sneered. "you think orcs are that smart? you think those lumbering brutes planned all of this just to catch us in a trap? it''s not like they have the brains for it. they''re running. hiding. they''re too broken to fight us, and now you want to let them slip away like cowards?" "you don''t know that!" the broad-shouldered harpy growled back, his talons scraping against the stone with an audible screech. his wings flared fully now, a gesture of rising anger. "you''re gambling all our lives on a guess. they''ve disappeared into the dark, and you don''t find that suspicious? not even a little? we can''t just charge in there blindly because you want glory!" the violet-feathered harpy''s sharp laugh rang out, a mocking sound that grated on the ears. "glory? you think i care about glory? i care about finishing the fight. i care about making sure these disgusting creatures don''t crawl out of that hole and ambush us later. if you''re too much of a coward to fight, then stay out here and preen your feathers while the rest of us clean up this mess." the insult hit hard. the broad-shouldered harpy''s eyes darkened as he stepped forward threateningly, his muscles tensing beneath his crimson plumage. "watch your tongue, vyrna. calling caution cowardice is the mark of a fool who doesn''t live long enough to learn better." the argument began to unravel into chaos. harpies on both sides of the disagreement flared their wings, raising their voices into a cacophony of barks, screeches, and accusations that echoed against the cave walls. each faction dug in stubbornly, refusing to yield. "what''s the matter, afraid of the dark?!" sneered one of vyrna''s supporters, her blue-tipped feathers ruffling smugly as she jabbed a clawed finger toward the dissenters. "afraid of dying for no reason, you brainless idiot!" another harpy shot back, his feathers flaring red like a warning beacon. "we''re warriors, not rats scurrying into traps. if you want to throw your life away, do it alone!" "the leader gave an order! you want to question him now?" "an order to die doesn''t need to be followed!" the leader''s expression grew darker with every shouted word, his talons grinding into the rocky ground beneath him. he remained silent for as long as he could, watching his warriors tear into each other with barely restrained fury. their wings beat violently against the air, their arguments growing louder and more volatile by the second. another voice rose above the din¡ªsharp and frantic, a younger harpy with wide, uncertain eyes. "listen to yourselves! do you not hear it? the quiet? that''s not normal. nothing about this is normal! we''re being played!" "and what would you have us do? fly away with our tails tucked between our legs? what happens when they regroup? when they''re stronger? what happens when¡ª" "enough!" the leader''s roar shattered the growing chaos like a hammer against glass. the flock froze instantly, wings stilling, voices falling silent. the air grew heavy, each harpy turning to face their furious leader as he straightened to his full height. his yellow eyes burned with barely restrained rage as he swept his gaze across the group. "you bicker like hatchlings! you screech and squawk over fears and guesses while our enemies hide within that cave! have you forgotten who we are? have you forgotten the shame of letting a horde of orcs retreat right beneath our wings?" sear?h the n?velfire.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. he pointed toward the cave entrance, his talon extended like a blade. "we are the masters of the skies! the hunters who stalk from above! do you think we can let these filthy creatures crawl away unpunished? do you think we can allow them to regroup, to heal, and return with vengeance tenfold?" some of the harpies lowered their heads in shame, their feathers wilting beneath his sharp words. but others held their ground, stubborn and uncertain. the broad-shouldered harpy stepped forward once more, his tone respectful but firm. "leader, we understand. but rushing into the unknown serves no purpose. we can starve them out. wait them out. there''s no need to charge into darkness where we can''t fight properly. what''s the hurry? let them suffer where they cower." the leader''s eyes narrowed into slits. "and give them the time to plot? to surprise us when we least expect it? no. if they hide in the dark, then we will drag them into the light. if you''re afraid to fight, step aside. the rest of us will handle this." the murmurs began again, softer now, but still heated. the division was clear. some harpies shuffled nervously, unwilling to voice their dissent aloud but unwilling to follow their leader into the unknown. others flared their wings with fierce resolve, ready to march¡ªor fly¡ªstraight into the depths of the cave. "fine." the leader''s voice dropped to a low growl, his talons flexing once before he folded his wings tightly against his back. "those of you who would abandon the fight, stay here. but when the rest of us return victorious, don''t expect to share in the spoils. you can keep your pride and your cowardice. the real warriors will press forward." silence. the group split, the tension hanging like a guillotine over their heads. some harpies stepped back, their faces darkened by shame or frustration. the others turned their gazes toward the cave, their eyes blazing with grim determination. and slowly, the group began to prepare for what lay ahead. Chapter 291 Confuse them the shadows in the cave swallowed everything whole¡ªthe light, the sound, and even the faintest sense of time.it was as though the very air had thickened, suffocating any trace of clarity or warmth. explore more at empire the ogres and orcs moved like spectral figures through the murk, their lumbering forms occasionally silhouetted by the fleeting glow of torchlight before they were consumed by darkness once more. volk stood in the center of his horde, his gaze sharp and calculating as he observed the task before him. his eyes gleamed like predatory embers, cutting through the dark. "cover everything," he ordered, his voice a low snarl that carried through the echoing chambers. "every track, every footstep, every scuff of claw or hoof. i want nothing left behind that those winged pests can follow. confuse them. trap them in their own arrogance. let them believe they''re the hunters¡ªuntil the dark swallows them whole." the ogres grunted in understanding, their massive, calloused hands clawing through the rocky ground as they moved to erase the trails. with each scrape and sweep, they disturbed the dirt and dust, scattering loose stones in odd, misleading patterns. their heavy footsteps¡ªnormally seismic thuds¡ªwere muted as they worked meticulously, placing debris in strange formations to obscure where they had come from and where they might have gone. the orcs moved swiftly, their smaller but more agile bodies weaving through the shadows like predatory wraiths. they used dry twigs, dead leaves, and loose branches to craft confusing patterns across the cave floor. some orcs dug shallow trenches, only to fill them again with scattered rubble. others dampened their trails with wet earth or crushed moss, blurring the lines between their movements and the natural decay of the cave. "make it look natural," volk growled as he stalked between his warriors, his sharp gaze piercing their efforts. "harpies are sharp-eyed. they''ll see any hint of something deliberate. muddy their senses. make them second-guess every step. if they look to their left, the answer will be on the right. if they look down, it will come from above. i want them blind. blind and desperate." the task was grueling, almost absurdly intricate. s§×ar?h the n??el fire.n§×t website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. each movement required thought, precision, and patience¡ªqualities that volk''s horde was rarely called upon to exercise. sweat trickled down the brows of orcs as they crawled over jagged rocks, smoothing surfaces or smearing them with deceptive handprints. ogres scraped at stone walls, creating unnatural abrasions to suggest movement where there had been none. the illusion had to be perfect. "there! that wall¡ªit looks too smooth. roughen it up. and you¡ªwhat are you doing? that trail leads somewhere. start again! leave them with nothing but a labyrinth of nothingness!" volk barked commands as he strode through the chaos, his tone a venomous whip that spurred his horde into further, frantic activity. the cave grew louder with the sounds of their efforts¡ªgrating stones, muffled curses, the crack of twigs under careful boots¡ªbut none of it escaped the confines of the deep, stifling dark. volk''s strategy was clear: transform the cave into a maze of dead ends and false leads, a graveyard of confusion where their enemy''s sharpest weapons¡ªsight and speed¡ªwould become useless. as the work stretched on, exhaustion began to gnaw at the horde. the orcs'' shoulders sagged, their hands raw and bloodied from scraping rock. the ogres moved slower, their massive bodies taxed from bending low to conceal their trails. yet volk''s presence was a force that refused to let their momentum wane. his words were relentless, a constant drumbeat of command and contempt. "you call this hiding?!" he spat when an orc faltered, pausing to wipe sweat from his face. volk''s voice echoed off the walls, venomous and cutting. "do you think the harpies will give you a moment to rest? do you think they''ll wait while you catch your breath? move! the moment we stop is the moment we lose. if you want to live, then bury yourself in this darkness! let it become your ally! or let it become your tomb!" the fire in volk''s voice reignited their resolve. the horde moved again¡ªfaster, harder, as though possessed by volk''s unrelenting will. they scattered broken weapons across false paths, mimicking signs of a desperate retreat. they smashed small stones into jagged shards, creating the illusion of a struggle where none had occurred. they used moss, mud, and soot to paint misleading trails across the walls, crafting paths that looped back on themselves like serpents devouring their own tails. and all the while, volk watched. he prowled through the cave like a shadow made flesh, his presence inescapable. he would pause occasionally, crouching low to run his claws over a newly crafted path, scrutinizing every detail. if he was dissatisfied, the offending orc or ogre would be sent back to do it again¡ªthis time perfectly. hours passed¡ªor perhaps it was only minutes. in the suffocating dark, time lost all meaning. the torchlight had burned low, reducing their world to a hazy gloom punctuated only by the dull gleam of sweat and blood. yet the horde pushed on, driven by something primal: survival. volk''s vision had become their lifeline. his unrelenting voice had drowned out their fatigue and fear. finally, when the last stone had been disturbed, when the last footprint had been smudged into oblivion, volk called for a halt. his voice echoed through the cave like the crack of thunder. "stop." the horde froze. the only sound was the rasp of their heavy breaths, the faint drip of water from somewhere deep within the cave. volk surveyed the scene with a calculating eye. the cave entrance was an unrecognizable chaos of false trails, broken ground, and cryptic marks that led nowhere. it was perfect. he straightened, his crimson gaze sweeping over his horde as he spoke. "they will come. when they do, they will stumble over their arrogance. they will fly in circles like fools, searching for something that does not exist. and when they are weakest¡ªwhen they are blind and lost¡ªwe will strike. this cave will not be our grave. it will be theirs." the horde remained silent, their exhaustion palpable, but in their eyes burned a fierce determination. volk turned back toward the depths of the cave, his voice dropping to a growl. "for now, we go deeper. prepare yourselves. if the harpies do not kill us, whatever lies in this cave might. either way, we fight. either way, we survive." and with that, the horde began to march again, their steps echoing in the dark like the tolling of a war drum. Chapter 292 Desperation the harpy people descended in waves, gliding silently through the thick air, their sharp eyes piercing the gloom of the forest floor that surrounded the yawning maw of the cave.at first, there had been certainty among them¡ªa predator''s confidence¡ªas they believed they could easily snuff out the orcs and ogres who dared flee into the shadows. but that certainty had turned to frustration. each new trail they followed, every broken twig or overturned stone, led nowhere. a sharp-eyed scout landed with a flurry of wings and hissed, "this makes no sense!" he kicked a pile of disturbed stones scattered across the ground, sending pebbles skittering in every direction. his talons clicked as he paced back and forth, his head twitching sharply as he scanned the surroundings. "they were here! i know they were here! look at these marks!" another harpy landed nearby, folding her wings neatly against her back. her voice was dripping with impatience. "yes, we''ve been saying that for the last hour. so where are they now? if they were wounded, they couldn''t have moved quickly." "but the trails go everywhere!" snarled another scout, perching on a branch above them. he stabbed a clawed finger toward the ground below. "here it looks like they doubled back. there it looks like they ran in circles. and that path over there? it just¡­ stops. it stops like they vanished into thin air!" murmurs of discontent rippled through the harpies as they began to gather in groups, perched on branches or hovering just above the ground. frustration was written across their faces, and tension crackled like a storm ready to break. talons clicked and flexed anxiously, wings beat the air in restless agitation. "it''s like they''re playing with us!" another harpy shouted, her voice shrill as her wings flared open. "they''re mocking us! they''re laughing at us while we chase our own tails! do you all not see how absurd this is?! we are harpies! why are we flying in circles like crows scavenging scraps?" the harpy leader stood to the side, watching his kin argue and bicker like children. his keen eyes narrowed, taking in the chaotic scene before him. the once-efficient hunting party had devolved into frustration, their confidence chipped away by the maddening complexity of the trails. every footstep they traced, every scuff of dirt they investigated, seemed deliberate yet meaningless. one scout landed hard in front of him, his wings flaring wide as his chest heaved with barely contained rage. "leader, this is pointless! the orcs and ogres are stupid, yes, but even they could not have hidden so completely unless¡­ unless they are dead! maybe they killed each other or starved in the dark! we waste our time!" the leader''s talons tapped rhythmically against the bark of a low tree branch as he considered the words. his silence weighed heavily on the others, who waited with bated breath. for a long while, the leader said nothing. the only sounds were the rustling of wings, the whispering of the wind through the leaves, and the distant drip of water echoing from within the cave. another harpy broke the silence. "we''ve spent too much time chasing nothing! the ogres are clumsy and slow, the orcs reckless and obvious. they wouldn''t have the sense or skill to pull this off!" "exactly!" another chimed in, their wings snapping in irritation. "the trails are wrong! it''s like they were crafted just to confuse us. they would not have the time to do this unless they were desperate. unless they¡ª" "enough." s~ea??h the n?velfire.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. the leader''s voice cut through the air like a blade. the forest fell silent in an instant, every harpy turning their gaze toward him. he stood tall, his wings partially spread, casting jagged shadows across the ground. his golden eyes burned with a sharp, predatory gleam¡ªa look that silenced any further protests. "desperation? you think this reeks of desperation? of course it does. look around you. do you not see it? do you not feel it?" the leader''s voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. his words slithered like smoke, curling into the ears of those who listened. "they are wounded. they are broken. and they are terrified. they have taken great pains to hide from us because they know they cannot fight us. "every false trail, every disturbed stone and misleading path¡ªit reeks of fear. desperate creatures will always go to great lengths to conceal their weakness. this cave is their last refuge. "they think they can escape us in the dark, but they are fools. they crawl like rats into the shadows, hiding their wounds and broken pride. and we¡ªwe¡ªwill pull them into the light and rip them apart." the harpies began to murmur, their frustration giving way to a simmering excitement as the leader''s words took root in their minds. "you say the trails are deliberate? good. that means they still live. you say the trails are confusing? even better. that means they are panicking. "you think they''ve hidden themselves so completely because they are clever? no. it is because they are weak. weak, wounded, and waiting to be finished." experience more tales on empire the leader''s face twisted into a wicked smile, his sharp teeth gleaming as he spread his wings fully, casting his shadow across the entire clearing. "we have them cornered. their hiding tells me everything i need to know. they will die cowering in the dark, surrounded by their failures. "they believe the shadows will save them, but the shadows will betray them. now¡ªkeep moving! follow every inch of that cave. do not stop until we''ve dragged every last one of them into the open! keep going! go!" the harpies let out a chorus of sharp cries, their wings snapping open in unison as they took to the air. frustration turned to bloodthirsty determination, their movements becoming a coordinated flurry of purpose. they dove back toward the cave''s entrance, their sharp eyes narrowing as they scanned every crevice and every shadow for any sign of their prey. and all the while, the leader remained behind, watching them go. his smile never faltered as his golden eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. "run deeper, little beasts," he muttered under his breath. "run as deep as you like. the dark will not save you from us." with that, he spread his wings and glided silently toward the cave entrance, his figure vanishing into the gloom. the hunt was far from over. Chapter 293 Rest meanwhile, deep within the winding bowels of the cave, volk and his horde of orcs and ogres finally reached a cavernous chamber.the air was cool, damp, and heavy with the faint echo of dripping water. it was a wide, expansive space, its ceiling rising into shadow, and it offered a measure of safety¡ªat least for now. jagged stone formations jutted from the ground like the teeth of some sleeping behemoth, and small pools of water reflected dim light from the torches carried by the horde. after hours of frantic marching, crawling, and strategizing, the horde finally came to a stop, their bodies sagging from the strain of the unrelenting pursuit. volk turned to face his soldiers, his eyes sweeping across the battered horde. the orcs and ogres were covered in sweat, blood, and grime, their heavy breathing filling the cavern like a deep and ragged chorus. cuts marred their green and gray skin, and their muscular bodies sagged from exhaustion. some leaned against cave walls, others dropped to their knees, weapons clattering beside them. "rest," volk commanded, his voice deep and resonant, carrying across the cavern like a low rumble of thunder. "sit. breathe. let your bones and muscles recover." for a brief moment, there was silence¡ªjust the sound of crackling torches and water trickling through the cave. then, a low, uneasy murmur rippled through the horde. a particularly broad-shouldered orc stepped forward, his brow furrowed and his tusks bared in worry. "rest? now? are you sure, volk?" another voice chimed in, this time an ogre with a deep, gravelly tone. "what if the harpies find us? they''re above us¡­ circling. always circling. if we sleep, we''ll be defenseless! they''ll swarm in and rip us apart." volk''s sharp eyes darted to the speaking ogre, silencing him with a single glare. he took a step forward, his heavy boots echoing against the stone. his presence alone made the cavern feel smaller, the shadows darker. "do you think i haven''t considered that?" he said coldly. "do you think i''ve brought you here just to be slaughtered in your sleep like cattle? you insult me¡ªand yourselves¡ªwith such fears." the murmurs quieted. the horde looked up at volk, their leader, with uncertainty clouding their tired faces. volk took a deep breath, his broad chest rising as he straightened his posture. when he spoke again, his voice was slow, deliberate, and commanding¡ªa voice that cut through fear like a blade. "listen to me. the harpies rely on the sky. their wings, their vantage¡ªthey are creatures of the open. we are now deep within this cave, surrounded by stone on all sides. do you think they will follow us here so easily? no. "they will hesitate. they will be cautious. why? because they know we are not fools. we are orcs. we are ogres. we are a horde that strikes even when we are wounded. and a cornered beast is far deadlier than one at ease." the orcs and ogres exchanged glances, the faintest glimmers of understanding flickering across their tired faces. volk continued, his voice rising with intensity. "the harpies expect us to be on edge. they expect us to set traps, to fight desperately, to throw ourselves against them in blind rage. and because they expect it, they are cautious. "right now, they are circling, sniffing around like wary wolves. they''re looking for signs of us. but we''ve given them nothing. do you understand? nothing." explore more at empire he raised his hand and clenched it into a fist, the torchlight casting deep shadows across his face. "no noise. no fire. no movement. to them, we are ghosts. we are shadows that have melted into the stone. and the longer we remain silent, the more their confidence will waver. they will question themselves. "they will doubt their instincts. they will ask, where did we go? they will wonder, did we double back? did we flee deeper into the caves? are we already gone? their hesitation is our shield. their confusion is our armor." a smaller orc, his face streaked with dirt and sweat, raised a hand timidly. "but¡­ what if they don''t hesitate? what if they come anyway?" volk turned his piercing gaze on the orc, and a cruel smirk tugged at his lips. "then we will tear them apart. if they are foolish enough to follow us here, they will learn that even in the dark, we are not prey. we are hunters. "we will smash their bones against the stone and stain this cave red with their blood. let them come. let them see what awaits them in the dark." the tension in the room shifted. it was subtle at first¡ªa few nods, a few fists clenching, a few backs straightening. volk''s words slithered into their minds, solidifying like iron. "but listen well," volk continued, pacing slowly in front of them. "for now, we rest. we recover. i know you are weary. i see it. your blood runs, your bones ache, your bodies scream for respite. take it. "we have bought ourselves time, and we will use it wisely. if we move now, wounded and tired, we give them what they want. we show weakness. and we are not weak. not you. not us." a few more voices murmured hesitantly, but volk raised his hand again, silencing them. "the harpies are relentless, yes, but they are not invincible. if they find us¡ªand i doubt they will¡ªwe will be ready. for now, i need every one of you to rest, even if only for a moment. "close your eyes. let your wounds mend. trust in me. i will keep watch. when the time comes, i will wake you, and we will strike as one. but for now¡ªrest. that is my command." s§×arch* the novel(f~)ire.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. slowly, begrudgingly, the orcs and ogres began to settle. some slumped against the cave walls, others laid their weapons beside them as they lowered themselves to the cold stone floor. the tension in their shoulders began to ease, though the flicker of wariness remained in their eyes. volk stood tall at the center of the chamber, his arms crossed, his presence a steady pillar of confidence and strength. one by one, the horde obeyed his order. one by one, their heavy eyelids began to droop. exhaustion overtook them like a heavy blanket, pulling them into restless slumber. the cavern grew quiet¡ªeerily so. the only sounds were the faint, rhythmic breathing of the horde and the distant, eternal drip of water echoing through the cave. volk watched over them, his sharp eyes glinting in the low torchlight. his mind remained sharp, calculating, always planning the next move. and as the last orc finally surrendered to sleep, the cavern fell into silence. the horde¡ªhis horde¡ªwas at rest. but volk remained awake, unblinking, his eyes fixed on the dark depths of the cave. Chapter 294 Preparation volk sat silently against the jagged wall of the cave, his hulking frame a statue in the dim torchlight. his eyes were closed, but his mind remained sharp¡ªcalculating, scheming.around him, the horde lay sprawled across the cold stone, their heavy breathing mingling with the soft drip of water echoing from the cavern''s depths. orcs and ogres, bruised and battered, snored and groaned in their slumber, unaware of the quiet storm brewing within their leader''s mind. volk''s eyelids fluttered, and he opened his eyes¡ªcold, sharp, glowing faintly with steely resolve. slowly, deliberately, he rose to his feet, each movement calculated and soundless. his massive form towered over the resting horde, his shadow stretching long and ominous across the cavern floor. he took a moment to survey them, the warriors who had entrusted their lives to him. for all his bravado earlier, volk knew the truth in his gut: if the harpies truly wanted to find them, they would. the cave''s darkness was no fortress. it was temporary¡ªan illusion of safety. the harpies were sharp-eyed predators. they could follow blood trails, pick up lingering scents, and they had patience on their side. hiding in the cave was nothing but a delay of the inevitable. the horde might rest for a few hours, but soon enough, the harpies would descend like a swarm of death. volk clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. this place will be our tomb if we let it. he had spoken confidently earlier¡ªcrafted a lie, a story to soothe the fears of his tired soldiers. and it worked. it bought them the rest they desperately needed. but volk knew better than to trust fate. victory wasn''t won through hope; it was won through action. if the harpies were going to come, he would not wait for them to strike first. no, he thought, his fist tightening. i will face them. alone, if i must. silently, volk turned toward the cavern''s exit. his heavy boots moved with uncharacteristic grace, barely making a sound as he slipped away from his slumbering horde. each step carried the weight of his decision¡ªone that he bore alone. he would not risk waking them. if his plan failed, if he fell out there under the open sky, the horde would still have a chance to recover, regroup, and fight another day. they don''t need to know what i''m doing. not yet. emerging into the dark tunnel leading toward the cave''s mouth, volk took a deep breath. the air here was colder, sharper, alive with faint echoes of the wind outside. he could almost sense the harpies¡ªthose arrogant birds¡ªcircling above, waiting for their moment to strike. let them come, volk thought darkly as his lips curled into a smirk. let them fly down, full of confidence, thinking they have cornered us. i''ll make them regret underestimating me. volk wasted no time. if he was going to lure the harpies into a trap, he had to act fast, and he had to be meticulous. every second counted. he scanned the tunnel, his sharp eyes catching every detail¡ªthe way stones jutted from the walls, the loose gravel along the ground, the sharp, splintered edges of wooden beams long abandoned by miners who once used these caves. a plan began to form, and volk''s mind became a storm of ideas. first, he needed choke points. harpies were agile, fast, and deadly in open spaces, but here in the cave, their wings were a liability. s§×arch* the nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. volk began moving rocks¡ªhuge boulders that others would deem immovable. his powerful hands gripped stone after stone, sweat pouring down his brow as he carefully rearranged them into narrow, maze-like pathways.any harpy that entered would be forced to fly low or weave between walls of jagged rock, robbing them of their advantage. "this will slow them down," volk muttered to himself, his voice low and dark as he shoved another massive boulder into place. next, he needed traps¡ªreal ones. volk gathered every resource he could find in the tunnels. from the broken wooden beams, he fashioned crude but effective spike traps. he snapped off sharp shards of wood, wedging them into the ground at angles where an unwary harpy might land, impaling themselves. he placed them beneath piles of loose gravel, covering them so they remained hidden to the untrained eye. he worked tirelessly, his mind fixated on every detail. he strung tripwires made from old rope across narrow pathways, tying them taut. volk knew harpies were sharp, but if they were chasing him in anger, they wouldn''t see every wire¡ªespecially not in this dim cave. each wire would trigger a collapse¡ªloose stones and boulders he rigged overhead, ready to fall and crush anything below. "you''ll think twice about coming down here, won''t you?" volk growled to himself, a savage grin forming as he checked each mechanism, ensuring they would hold. he even prepared fire. volk tore strips of cloth from his cloak and wrapped them around discarded bones and sticks. he dipped them into pools of old, oily water he found deeper in the cave, likely remnants of some forgotten seepage. once lit, they would burn hot and bright¡ªenough to disorient the harpies'' keen eyes and send them careening into the traps he''d laid. time slipped away unnoticed as volk worked, sweat pouring off his brow and dripping onto the stone. his muscles ached, his hands bled from gripping splintered wood and sharp stones, but he did not falter. every trap, every barrier, every piece of his plan was carefully, brutally efficient. finally, volk stepped back to admire his work. the cave tunnel was no longer just a passage; it was a gauntlet. a death trap. if they come for me, volk thought as he wiped blood from his calloused hands, they won''t leave alive. but he wasn''t done. volk turned his gaze toward the mouth of the cave. he needed bait. the harpies would need a reason to come down, to follow him deeper into his web of traps. he grabbed one of the sharp wooden shards and sliced open his forearm with a hiss. experience tales with empire blood welled up and dripped to the ground. volk smeared it across the stones, down the tunnel walls, leaving an unmistakable trail. to any harpy, it would look like prey¡ªwounded, bleeding, and desperate¡ªfleeing deeper into the cave. "come find me, you winged bastards," volk snarled, his voice echoing faintly into the dark. he could already imagine the harpies'' cries of frustration, their arrogance turning to fear as his traps sprang to life. satisfied, volk moved back to the final chamber where his horde still rested, unaware of the carnage he was preparing outside. he sank down to his knees against the cold stone, his breathing heavy but controlled. "it''s ready," he murmured to himself, his lips curling into a grim smile. "if they dare come, i''ll make them pay." for now, volk closed his eyes. the traps were set, the plan was in motion. all he needed to do was wait. Chapter 295 Confirming the trap as the horde slumbered deeply, their heavy bodies sprawled across the cave floor, lulled into a sense of temporary safety, volk remained silent in the shadows.his sharp eyes flickered in the dim light as the last of his soldiers succumbed to exhaustion. but while they rested, volk''s mind was anything but idle. his thoughts churned like a storm, cold and calculating, sifting through countless possibilities, weighing risks and rewards. his earlier words, filled with confidence and conviction, had been nothing more than a facade. the harpies would eventually find them if they really searched¡ªand volk knew that all too well. his plans had always been fluid, adapting to the ever-changing circumstances around him. the truth of the matter was, volk had not been playing for time at all; rather, he had been playing for opportunity. he needed no rest. he needed no reprieve from the battle that was to come. while his horde trusted him and succumbed to sleep, he had already made up his mind. the harpies'' feigned hesitation meant nothing to him. the moment they set foot in the cave, volk would be waiting¡ªnot with a trap, not with some twisted decoy to mislead them, but with direct confrontation. a challenge. a fight. as quietly as a shadow, volk rose to his feet. the cave floor was cold beneath him, but his body was as steady as ever, each movement deliberate and controlled. he checked his weapons, making sure his axe was securely fastened to his back, his blade sharp, and his hidden daggers within easy reach. he inhaled deeply, the cool cave air filling his lungs, and then, without a sound, he turned and slipped through the cavern''s winding passages. each step was measured, as though he were walking across a battlefield rather than a cave. he didn''t fear the dark¡ªhe thrived in it. the torchlight behind him faded into nothingness as he ventured deeper into the tunnels, leaving his horde behind to recover. he knew what awaited them outside, but he didn''t need to wait. he could face it head-on, while they were still weak and unaware. and as he entered the deeper recesses of the cave, his thoughts began to focus. .the harpies were likely still watching, still circling high above. but volk knew something they didn''t: the terrain below was not their domain. he could hear the sound of the harpies above, their wings cutting through the air with a distinct whoosh, but they didn''t realize what lay beneath them. the harpies would descend, expecting an easy slaughter, but what they would find instead was a deadly arena, a place where they were the prey. he smiled grimly, reaching into his satchel and pulling out his tools¡ªropes, rocks, sharpened spikes, and hidden snares. these were not the typical traps meant to deceive or confuse. no, these were designed for one thing: pure, unrelenting destruction. he began working quickly, each movement swift and practiced as he set about his task. first, he located the narrow passage that led to a precipice above a chasm, just beyond the area where he suspected the harpies would land. with his rope and carefully tied knots, he rigged a series of spikes¡ªlong, jagged pieces of iron and stone¡ªinto the walls, creating an almost invisible net of death. the ropes, wound tightly and secured into place, would snap taut when disturbed, causing the spikes to drop down into the path below. anyone who came through the narrow passage would find themselves impaled in a deadly trap, unable to escape. next, he turned to the floor. the terrain here was uneven, littered with small boulders and jagged rocks. perfect for what he had in mind. with quick precision, he set small, concealed tripwires across the cave floor, attaching them to large rocks and boulders. once triggered, these would send the rocks tumbling down, crushing whatever unfortunate creature wandered too close. some of the boulders were massive, weighing several tons, and if a harpy or even an ogre wasn''t careful, they would be flattened instantly. the rocks were silent, yet deadly, and volk knew they would be perfect for trapping anyone who tried to rush in without thinking. as he worked, he continued to plan, his mind constantly shifting. the harpies would likely try to flank him, attempting to drop down from above or come from multiple angles. but volk had anticipated this. he set up hidden spikes in the ground, covered them with loose gravel and dirt, ensuring they blended seamlessly with the surroundings. these spikes, when triggered by weight, would shoot upward like venomous fangs, impaling anything that dared to step too close. then, he began to set up his final defense: the pit. it was deep, wide, and positioned just beyond a low rise, hidden from view unless one was looking directly down. the pit was lined with sharpened wooden stakes, each one placed with extreme care. it would be nearly invisible to anyone above, and its depth ensured that any creature that fell into it would be trapped and impaled, unable to climb out. volk didn''t stop there, though. he set up a series of mirrors, polished stones that would reflect even the faintest light from his torch. the idea was simple¡ªdistract and disorient. the harpies relied on their keen eyesight, but with the right angle of light, they would be blinded, confused, unable to pinpoint their target. finally, he set the most subtle trap of all: the scent. he knew that harpies, like many creatures, relied on their senses. if they could smell their prey, they would know where to strike. volk had gathered a mixture of herbs, blood, and decaying meat. he scattered it in various places throughout the cave, ensuring that the harpies would detect the scent and think they were being drawn into a trap, following false leads and false scents that would ultimately lead them into his other traps. when it was done, when the last of the ropes were tied, and the final tripwires were set, volk stepped back and surveyed the cavern. it was now a deadly maze of hidden spikes, snares, and pits. the cave was transformed into an arena of death, a place where no one would survive if they underestimated the danger that lay in wait. volk''s heart pounded with a mix of excitement and anticipation. this was no longer about waiting. it was about confronting his enemies directly. he had prepared everything he needed, and now all that remained was to let the harpies make their move. as he stood there, his body tense with readiness, he heard a faint rustling¡ªa whisper of movement. the harpies were drawing closer. your next chapter is on empire they had fallen into his trap. and when they came, they would find out that the hunter was no longer hiding in the shadows. volk grinned fiercely. "next is to go to them directly." sea??h th§× n??elfir§×.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 296 Crouching silently volk trudged through the darkness of the cave, his massive frame moving silently, deliberately, step by step.the oppressive quiet wrapped around him like a heavy shroud, broken only by the faint echo of his boots pressing into the dirt. his mind was alight with focus, his crimson eyes scanning every inch of the cavern''s winding passages. he was heading back toward the trail his horde had worked so hard to obscure. why? because volk knew something his horde didn''t. the harpies would eventually piece the trail together, would follow it relentlessly, driven by their leader''s resolve. his earlier words to his horde had been a calculated lie¡ªa temporary salve to calm their weary, bleeding bodies. "they won''t find us." but volk knew better. they would come. the gnawing certainty burned in his chest like a coal, and so he took it upon himself to turn predator. if the harpies wanted blood, he would give them war. every step volk took down the false trail brought him deeper into a state of heightened awareness. he observed everything¡ªthe way the disturbed dirt shifted where his horde had tread, the scattered, broken roots, and the faint indentations of massive orc and ogre feet. he noted the subtle twists in the cave walls where shadows pooled thick like ink, places where ambushes could be set, and areas where the harpies might feel emboldened to gather. every contour of the trail felt like a carefully drawn map burned into his mind, piece by piece, allowing him to strategize as he walked. familiarization. he was becoming one with the terrain. volk crouched at intervals, sinking his fingers into the dirt, testing the ground beneath his feet for firmness. he studied the stalactites above and traced the air for moisture. his mind calculated everything, constructing an unseen battlefield where each corner of the cave was a potential kill zone. his pace was slow, agonizingly so, as if time itself dragged with him. but volk didn''t care. this was not about speed. this was about control. at times, he stopped entirely. he would glance up, his breath steady but sharp. he swore he could almost hear the harpies¡ªfaint whooshing noises, far off but drawing closer. his pulse remained steady, controlled. as volk reached the cave''s mouth, where the false trail faded into the darkness beyond, he stepped out into the gloom of the dense forest once again. here, the air was sharper, colder, and carried the faint scent of blood. a lingering, sickly sweetness tainted it, like the aftermath of slaughter. his sharp eyes immediately scanned the skies above. nothing. not yet. but volk could feel them. read latest stories on empire he kept moving, following the disrupted trail that had led his horde to safety. the broken branches, crushed leaves, and muddy earth painted a tale of the harpies'' pursuit. it was subtle¡ªhow some tracks overlapped others. they''ve been here already. they had scouted this area, perhaps trying to judge whether it was safe to move deeper. the thought twisted volk''s mouth into a humorless smirk. cautious little birds. volk ventured further, his movements fluid and unrelenting. soon, as the trees thinned slightly, he caught sight of them: faint figures silhouetted in the darkness, perched on high branches like shadows brought to life. harpies. dozens of them. their feathers glistened in the moonlight as their talons dug into the bark of the ancient trees. some muttered among themselves in hushed tones, their harsh voices carried faintly on the wind. volk crouched low, observing them, his every breath controlled. he saw their leader¡ªa hulking male harpy with dark plumage and a crooked beak¡ªcircling above the others like a vulture. his wings beat slowly, deliberately, as if to remind his flock that he alone commanded the skies. volk''s fists clenched. the ground beneath him cracked faintly from the pressure of his rage. he watched, unmoving, as the harpies began to settle further into their positions, as if preparing to make a move into the cave. their patience would soon wear thin. now, volk thought, now i know their numbers. he rose slightly, slipping back into the shadows of the forest, his footsteps soundless. the battle was coming, and volk would greet it like an old friend. his crimson eyes burned in the dark as a cruel smile curled across his lips. however, volk would turn around and leave. the tunnels stretched before volk like the twisting veins of some slumbering beast, their dark, earthen walls glistening with faint moisture. he crouched low, his breathing steady but deliberate as the echo of his steps vanished into silence. shadows swam along the rough edges of the cave, the soft drip-drip-drip of water falling from stalactites like a heartbeat in the gloom. this deep underground, light was a forgotten concept. the air was thick and damp, carrying an earthy weight that clung to volk''s lungs. volk''s sharp crimson eyes glimmered faintly as he moved, every step calculated, every motion devoid of hesitation. he had left his horde behind to rest, deceiving them with his earlier words. s§×arch* the n??efire.¦Çet website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. they needed their strength, but volk knew the truth¡ªthis was his fight. if he wanted to complete the mission, he must face the harpies by himself. to do that, he had to use every ounce of cunning at his disposal. ahead, the faint screeches and rustling sounds of the harpies filtered down the tunnel, muted by the winding stone corridors. the birds were close. volk could feel it in his bones. yet instead of charging forward like some mindless brute, he moved with the precision of a predator¡ªsilent, invisible. crrrnnch. the sound of gravel shifting under his foot made him freeze. volk''s head snapped down. his hulking form crouched even lower. his ears strained for any sign that the harpies had heard the noise. moments passed¡ªagonizingly slow¡ªas the cave itself seemed to hold its breath. then, a distant laugh rang out from further in the tunnel, shrill and mocking. it sounded like the leader. volk''s lips curled into a silent snarl. they were still overconfident. good. the warlord moved again, taking a different path through the branching tunnels. he crept like a shadow, brushing past jagged walls and ducking beneath low-hanging rock formations. occasionally, the dim glow of a distant harpy torch flickered across the walls, but volk stayed hidden. he navigated deeper, using his memory of the cave system and the faint hints of their footsteps¡ªscratches on the stone, dislodged pebbles¡ªas his guide. the air grew colder the closer he crept toward the surface tunnels. a faint breeze, sharp and biting, whispered through the cave. volk knew he was nearing the entrance again. a wicked plan had already formed in his mind, and it would only take time and patience to execute it. the harpies might have expected an ambush deep in the cavern, but they would never anticipate him doubling back. emerging near the mouth of the cave, volk straightened. the soft gray light of the overcast sky above seeped through the jagged opening, casting everything into a cold monochrome. the mountains loomed like ancient sentinels outside, their jagged spires tearing into the heavens. but volk had no time to admire the view. he turned his attention to the task at hand. Chapter 297 Trapping the birds completely the traps beginvolk''s massive hands moved swiftly, his mind working faster than ever. his years of survival on the battlefield made him an expert at guerrilla warfare. now, it was time to put that experience to work. he started by digging shallow trenches along the cave''s entrance, using sharp rocks to carve through the dirt. his thick fingers gouged through the earth with brutal efficiency. the first layer of traps had to be invisible. the harpies were smart enough to look for obvious dangers, but volk knew how to trick them. explore new worlds at empire with precision, volk buried sharpened stakes¡ªbroken spearheads and splintered bones he scavenged from the cave. he coated them with the sludge of cave fungi, their poisonous spores potent enough to cause paralysis if inhaled. volk smirked. if the harpies landed, they''d have no idea what awaited them until it was far too late. sssshhhk¡ªshhhtk! the sound of dirt being overturned echoed faintly. volk''s movements were methodical but feral, like an animal digging a den. once the trenches were camouflaged with loose gravel and dead leaves scattered outside the cave, he moved on to the next layer of traps. volk scanned the perimeter for natural chokepoints, finding several narrow ledges where the harpies might land to investigate. he set up tripwires¡ªthin, almost invisible lines made of sinew and braided threads stripped from abandoned armor straps. each tripwire was connected to a series of weighted stones. if a harpy stepped on one, the stones would come crashing down with enough force to shatter bones. krrrsshhh! thunk! volk tested one of the traps, ensuring it worked perfectly. a sharp grin spread across his face as the stones plummeted, creating a dull, echoing boom in the surrounding cliffs. but that wasn''t enough. not for volk. the harpies'' greatest advantage was their ability to fly. volk knew that well. he tilted his head back, crimson eyes narrowing as he studied the sharp rocks that jutted out from the cave''s ceiling like jagged teeth. with a grunt, he hefted several heavy chains he had scavenged earlier¡ªrelics of some forgotten dungeon further inside the cave. they rattled ominously as he pulled them up the cliff face. volk anchored them to cracks in the rock, fashioning crude but deadly harpoon traps. once triggered, these makeshift chains would swing outward like whips, lashing at anything caught in the airspace near the cave. volk grinned darkly. harpies may be fast, but their pride made them careless. if they tried to hover or descend all at once, they would be sliced apart. with the traps above and below complete, volk turned his attention to sealing off potential escape routes. he piled debris¡ªfallen boulders, broken tree limbs, even remnants of the ogres'' crude shields¡ªagainst several gaps near the entrance. each pile was rigged with deadfalls. if the harpies tried to push through, everything would come crashing down, leaving them no way out. dust covered volk''s massive form as he worked. s§×ar?h the n?vel?ire.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. his breathing remained steady, though his muscles burned with exertion. he wiped the sweat from his brow, leaving streaks of dirt across his pale skin. as the final trap was set, volk surveyed his work. the ground outside the cave looked untouched, but beneath its surface lay sharpened stakes, hidden pits, and poisoned trenches. tripwires crisscrossed the narrow ledges. above, the swinging chains hung silently, waiting like predators in the dark. volk knelt down, placing his massive palm on the ground. his lips moved in a low murmur¡ªperhaps a prayer to some forgotten war god, or perhaps simply a promise to himself. "this is the price of arrogance," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. volk rose to his feet, his towering form casting a long shadow over the entrance. he stepped back, his eyes narrowing as he watched the traps in eerie silence. the harpies would come. they had followed him this far. their pride wouldn''t allow them to turn back. his mind replayed the system''s words: kill the harpies. complete the mission. volk clenched his fists. a dark, cruel light glimmered in his eyes. the harpies thought they had the advantage, attacking his horde while they were weakened. but now, they were the ones being hunted. with his preparations complete, volk retreated a short distance into the cave. he blended into the shadows, becoming an invisible sentinel. soon, he went back to the birdmen. from here, he could watch and wait. every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, ready to strike when the time was right. the cave fell silent once again. the traps were set. the battlefield was ready. minutes ticked by, though they felt like hours. the only sounds were the faint whispers of wind and the distant cawing of circling harpies. volk remained perfectly still, his chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths. in the heavy silence, anticipation hung thick in the air. then, far off, volk heard it¡ªthe faint rustle of wings cutting through the wind. the corners of his mouth twitched into a cruel smile. "i am coming¡­" ¡­ volk, his mind sharp and his senses heightened, retraced the steps his horde had left behind, carefully following the faint trail through the dense forest. the trees seemed to loom even taller as he ventured deeper, their thick canopies blotting out much of the sky. he moved quickly and silently, aware that the harpies could be watching from above, their keen eyes scanning the surroundings. his thoughts were a whirl of strategy, calculating every potential outcome, every weakness in the harpies'' movements. he knew they would expect him to be cautious, to hide away in the cave where his horde rested, but volk was never one to shy away from the frontlines. he was certain the harpies would think they had him cornered, that their pursuit of him would be easy. but they were wrong. the moment their guards dropped, he would strike, and he would strike hard. as he navigated the forest, he sensed the oppressive weight of silence around him. his sharp ears picked up the slightest rustle, the distant flapping of wings, and even the subtle whisper of wind in the trees. the harpies were nearby, just out of sight. they knew something was off¡ªwhy hadn''t he set any more traps? where was the usual defensiveness that orcs were known for? volk slowed his pace as he approached a clearing where the trail seemed to converge. his instincts screamed that the harpies were close, and with each step, his senses flared. he crouched low, staying in the shadows, waiting for the right moment. the subtle fluttering of wings reached his ears once again, and he tensed. finally, after what felt like hours, his sharp eyes caught movement at the edge of the clearing. a harpy, its wings beating slowly, hovered just above the ground, its eyes scanning the area. volk held his breath, making sure not to make a sound. his heart beat in time with the rhythmic flap of the harpy''s wings. he had found them. a sudden sense of satisfaction filled him. the time had come. he had tracked them down, and now, it was his turn to strike. the harpies were oblivious to his presence, unaware that the very predator they sought to hunt had quietly slipped into their midst. volk took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, preparing to make his move. Chapter 298 Offer deep within the suffocating embrace of the cave, volk crouched low against the uneven stone floorthe air was damp, thick with the earthy tang of moss and moisture. faint streaks of light danced from cracks in the ceiling, illuminating jagged walls that seemed to close in with every passing moment. the distant drip, drip, drip of water echoed endlessly, each droplet a subtle reminder of the oppressive silence that had settled over his horde. shadows loomed large, flickering and twisting like specters as the dim light hit the cavern''s stalactites. volk''s sharp crimson eyes pierced through the gloom, watching the faint movements of the harpies far ahead. they flitted in and out of view, their silhouettes sharp against the sparse light. wings fluttered softly, producing faint whoosh, whoosh sounds that carried through the otherwise still cavern. the harpies weren''t in any rush. they glided gracefully, their talons clicking against the stone as they landed occasionally to inspect their surroundings. volk''s hand clenched into a fist. the calloused leather of his gloves creaked with the strain of his grip. he was moments away from unleashing chaos upon them. the traps had been set, the plans laid. all he had to do was to attack directly. yet, a sharp pang of realization clawed at his mind. his gaze narrowed as he studied the harpies.p their wings beat in perfect rhythm, their coordinated movements far too precise to exploit. volk''s thoughts churned like a storm. the realization hit him harder than he cared to admit¡ªhe had no aerial advantage. if the battle extended beyond the confines of the cave, his forces would be shredded apart. the harpies could soar high above the reach of his warriors, their wind magic slicing through flesh and armor alike. the sound of his own breathing grew louder in his ears. he needed to rethink this. his mind raced, combing through scenarios. a frontal attack? suicide. ambush? risky. but what if he didn''t fight? what if he offered something else? he straightened, his hulking form rising from the shadows like a beast emerging from slumber. the harsh scrape of his boots against stone echoed in the cavern. his horde, scattered and hidden among the rocks, shifted nervously at his sudden movement. they looked at him with wide, questioning eyes, but volk raised a hand, silencing them. "i will speak to them," he said, his voice low yet commanding. his steps were deliberate, his every movement calculated as he strode toward the faint glow where the harpies had gathered. each step sent a faint crunch, crunch through the cave as his heavy boots crushed stray pebbles underfoot. when he emerged into the light, the harpies turned to face him. their golden eyes gleamed like molten coins in the dimness. they spread their wings wide, feathers shimmering faintly in hues of silver and sapphire. there was a sharpness to their gazes, a predator''s instinct that made even volk''s seasoned skin prickle. stay tuned for updates on empire the leader stepped forward, a tall harpy with sharp, angular features and wings that stretched wider than any of the others. his feathers were darker, almost black, edged with streaks of gold that glimmered faintly. he tilted his head, studying volk with an expression that was equal parts amusement and disdain. "you''ve decided to surrender?" the leader asked, his voice dripping with mockery. the other harpies snickered, their laughter echoing like cruel wind chimes. volk smirked, his sharp tusks glinting faintly in the dim light. "surrender?" he repeated, his deep voice rolling through the cavern like distant thunder. "no. i came to offer you something far greater than a fight." the harpies stilled, their laughter fading into an eerie silence. they exchanged glances, their brows furrowing in confusion. s§×arch* the n?vel_fire.¦Çet website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "i am volk," he declared, his voice steady and commanding. "leader of this horde. slayer of men, conqueror of dungeons. i do not kneel. i do not beg. and i do not waste time with meaningless battles." the harpy leader crossed his arms, his talons tapping against the stone. "and what exactly are you offering, beast?" "an alliance," volk said simply, his crimson eyes locking onto the leader''s golden gaze. "join me. lend me your wings, your power. together, we could lay waste to the human kingdoms, carve out a realm of our own. no one would dare oppose us." there was a pause. then, the cavern erupted in laughter. the harpies howled with amusement, their laughter high-pitched and grating. some doubled over, clutching their sides, while others pointed at volk as though he were the punchline to some cosmic joke. "you''re insane!" one of them cackled, her wings fluttering as she struggled to stay upright. "you think we would follow you?" the leader''s laughter was quieter, but no less mocking. he stepped closer to volk, his golden eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "do you truly believe we would stoop so low? to join forces with ground-dwelling brutes like you? your kind is nothing but filth. clumsy, stupid, barbaric." volk''s smirk didn''t falter. he folded his arms across his broad chest, standing tall amidst their ridicule. "i expected this," he said calmly. "your arrogance blinds you. you think yourselves superior because you can fly. but wings mean nothing without a purpose, without a leader to guide you." the harpies continued to laugh, their voices rising in a cacophony of scorn. "and you think you are that leader?" the harpy leader sneered. "you''re delusional." volk took a step closer, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the smaller harpy. "laugh all you want," he said, his voice a low growl. "but tell me this¡ªhow many battles have you fought? how many have you won? do you even understand the cost of true victory?" the harpy leader''s smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly masked it with a scoff. "your kind is weak," volk continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "you prey on the defenseless, on those who cannot fight back. but against a real enemy? against someone who won''t stop until they''ve ground your bones to dust? you''d crumble. you''d flee." the laughter began to waver, some of the harpies shifting uncomfortably. but the leader held his ground, his gaze hardening. "we don''t need you," he said coldly. "and we certainly don''t fear you." volk chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver through the cavern. "fear? no, i don''t expect you to fear me. not yet. but if you continue down this path, you will. that, i promise." the harpies bristled, their wings flaring in agitation. the leader stepped forward, his talons scraping against the stone as he stared volk down. "you speak as though you''ve already won," he said. "but your words are empty. we are not like you. we don''t grovel in the dirt, begging for scraps. we soar above it all, untouchable." "untouchable?" volk repeated, his smirk widening. "is that why you''re here, deep in this cave, chasing after my horde? because you''re untouchable?" the harpy leader''s jaw tightened, his feathers ruffling in irritation. "you may laugh now," volk said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "but remember this moment when the ground is stained with your blood. when your wings are clipped, your bodies broken. remember that you had a chance to join me, to stand as equals. and you threw it away." the harpies stared at him, their laughter silenced. for a moment, the cavern was deathly quiet, the tension thick enough to choke on. then, the harpy leader laughed¡ªa sharp, bitter sound. "do what you will," he said. "we will never bow to the likes of you." he turned, spreading his wings wide. the other harpies followed suit, their gazes filled with contempt as they prepared to take flight. volk watched them go, his smirk fading into a cold, calculating expression. he had planted the seeds of doubt, of fear. and that was enough¡ªfor now. Chapter 299 So be it volk stood amidst the clearing where the harpies circled above, his imposing figure unyielding even under their mocking gaze. his crimson eyes gleamed with fervor as he raised his voice, projecting authority and unwavering confidence."listen to me, winged hunters of the skies! you look down on us, but i see strength in your kind. i see a future where the harpy people rise higher than ever before, not as scattered bands but as a unified force. "and i¡ªvolk¡ªoffer you that future. together, we could carve a path of conquest so glorious that your names will echo in the winds for generations!" he took a step forward, his voice swelling with fervent conviction. "what do you gain by attacking us? scraps of fleeting satisfaction? a moment of dominance? i offer you something far greater. a legacy. power. "glory that will transcend the skies you glide through. together, we could dominate the forests, the mountains, the very heavens themselves!" volk clenched his fists, his voice taking on a steel edge. "imagine what we could achieve! the harpy people, no longer prey to mere humans or beasts, no longer mocked as scavengers but feared as rulers! s~ea??h the n??elfir§×.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "you could have lands to call your own, riches beyond measure, and the strength to defend it all. all i ask is your cooperation. i promise you victory, prosperity, and respect¡ªthings no one else has dared to offer you!" the harpies above exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from amusement to skepticism. slowly, a chorus of mocking laughter began to rise. one harpy, his feathers tinged with silver and his wings shimmering under the faint light, flew lower, his piercing voice carrying disdain. "you think we''d believe the words of an orc? your promises are as empty as your skull, ground-walker! you talk of glory, yet you skulk in caves, hiding like frightened prey. do you think us fools?" another harpy, her plumage a brilliant shade of red, swooped closer, her talons gleaming like polished blades. "you speak of uniting us, but what could you possibly offer? you''re nothing but a desperate brute trying to save his pitiful horde. what makes you think we''d ever ally ourselves with your kind?" their laughter intensified, echoing mockingly across the clearing. they jeered, their words dripping with contempt. "glory? from an orc? we might as well ally with worms!" one shouted. "what future can you offer us when your present is so pathetic?" another chimed in, drawing further waves of derisive cackling. volk''s expression remained steady, though a faint flicker of frustration crossed his features. he straightened his stance, trying to maintain his composure even as their mockery cut deeper. "mock me if you will," he said, his voice steady but sharp. "but understand this: you may laugh today, but the winds of fate are unpredictable. if you reject my offer, you may find yourselves regretting it when we rise beyond your reach." the harpy leader, who had been silent until now, descended further, his wings flapping with deliberate slowness as he locked eyes with volk. "you speak boldly for someone who hides in the shadows. but you are mistaken if you think your words can sway us. you presume too much, orc." his voice grew colder, laced with irritation. "your arrogance knows no bounds. do you think we need you? that we, the rulers of the skies, would ever stoop so low as to align with the likes of you?" the air grew tense as volk''s patience began to waver. despite his attempts to maintain control, the harpies'' scornful words struck deep. he raised a hand, about to respond, but the harpy leader interrupted with a furious cry. "enough of this farce! you dare waste our time with your empty promises? you insult us with your delusions of grandeur! leave, orc, before we show you why the skies belong to us!" volk''s resolve cracked under the sheer disdain and hostility. realizing the futility of pressing further, he exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly. he had hoped to avoid further conflict, but their pride and anger were unyielding. for now, there was no choice but to retreat. suddenly, standing before the harpy group, volk''s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "are you all sure?" his words carried a weight that made even the leader of the harpies hesitate momentarily. the leader, a wiry, sharp-eyed male harpy with feathers dark as midnight, scoffed loudly, masking the unease brewing within. "of course! what could you possibly do, filthy orc? you''ve run out of tricks. do your worst!" the other harpies echoed his laughter, though some shifted uncomfortably. volk smiled¡ªa slow, dangerous curl of his lips. "very well," he said, his tone unnervingly calm. and then, without warning, his body began to change. a low, guttural rumble emanated from volk''s chest, growing louder and deeper with every passing second. his green skin began to darken, taking on an earthy, almost stone-like hue, and his body seemed to expand. his muscles swelled grotesquely, veins pulsating visibly under his thickening skin. the harpies watched in mounting disbelief as his transformation began. his arms grew first, bulging unnaturally, the muscles twisting and contorting as they doubled in size. explore stories on empire the sound of stretching, tearing flesh and the crack of reshaping bone filled the air. volk''s hands turned monstrous, each finger extending into thick, brutal claws capable of rending steel. "what¡­ what is this?!" one of the harpies stammered, her voice trembling. volk''s legs followed next, elongating and broadening until they resembled the thick, gnarled trunks of ancient trees. his feet became massive, each step he took causing the ground beneath him to tremble and crack. the harpy leader took an involuntary step back, his bravado fading. "you''re¡­ not an orc anymore," one of the harpies whispered, her wide eyes fixed on volk. the transformation continued relentlessly. his torso expanded, ribs and spine jutting grotesquely as his chest barreled out. his shoulders broadened to an impossible degree, and the faint, green glow of something primal and raw began to emanate from beneath his skin. his head tilted back, and with a guttural roar, his face contorted and morphed. his jaw widened unnaturally, his teeth growing into jagged, ogre-like fangs. two small horns erupted from his forehead, curling menacingly upward. his eyes glowed with a fiery orange light, exuding pure, unrestrained power. the harpies could do nothing but stare, frozen in stunned horror. feathers rustled uneasily as a wave of fear swept through the group. one younger male harpy took a hesitant step backward, his sharp talons scraping against the rocks. "leader," he whispered, "this¡­ this isn''t normal. we should¡ª" "silence!" the leader barked, though his voice cracked ever so slightly. he flared his wings defiantly, but the sweat dripping down his temple betrayed his growing fear. meanwhile, volk''s transformation reached its zenith. his back arched, massive, jagged spikes erupting along his spine with sickening cracks. his voice, now a deep, guttural growl, rumbled through the air. .he stood before them not as an orc but as an ogre¡ªa towering behemoth of pure intimidation. the sheer size of him was overwhelming. he loomed over the harpies like a living mountain, his every breath sending gusts of hot air toward them. his claws flexed, and the ground beneath him seemed to shatter with every shift of his weight. the harpies were no longer laughing. "what¡­ what have you become?" another harpy choked out, her voice barely a whisper. volk grinned, his massive tusks gleaming menacingly. his voice was a deep, resonant growl that sent shivers down their spines. "i''ve become your reckoning," he said, his tone calm but laced with raw, terrifying power. the leader gulped audibly but tried to maintain his composure. "you think this changes anything? numbers are on our side!" volk took a slow, deliberate step forward, and the harpies flinched. his massive clawed hand reached out, grabbing a nearby boulder and crushing it effortlessly in his grip. shards of stone rained down, and the sound echoed ominously. "are you all really sure?" volk asked again, his voice quieter now but no less terrifying. the harpies exchanged uneasy glances, the once-united flock now riddled with doubt. the oppressive aura emanating from volk sapped their confidence, and even the leader found himself struggling to respond. in the heavy silence that followed, volk stood tall, his monstrous form radiating dominance. his glowing orange eyes swept over the group, daring them to test his resolve. the leader clenched his fists, his wings twitching nervously. and yet, even he could not mask the fear creeping into his voice as he growled, "we''ll see who stands victorious." volk''s grin widened. "so be it." Chapter 300 Massacre volk prowled through the dense underbrush, his hulking frame obscured by shadows that clung to his radioactive aura.the faint glow of his toxic power lit the area around him, casting an eerie green hue over the cracked earth and dead leaves. he moved silently, each step calculated, each breath purposeful. his molten eyes scanned the canopy above, and his ears perked at every faint flutter of wings. the harpies were close¡ªhe could feel their presence like a dagger pressing against his skin. suddenly, a piercing cry echoed above, slicing through the stillness of the forest inside this cave. volk''s lips twisted into a grin as the first harpy dove from the sky, her talons gleaming like polished steel. "finally," volk growled, his voice reverberating like the grumble of an earthquake. the harpy swooped toward him, her talons outstretched, aiming to tear into his flesh. but volk didn''t flinch. instead, he stood his ground and clapped his massive hands together with such force that the air rippled in a deafening shockwave. boom! the harpy screeched as the powerful blast struck her mid-air, sending her spiraling uncontrollably. her wings faltered, and she crashed into the trees, snapping branches as she plummeted to the ground in a crumpled heap. volk stepped forward, his radioactive form humming with raw energy, his grin widening as the forest inside this cave erupted with more cries. the remaining harpies, enraged, descended in a coordinated attack. two darted toward him from opposite sides, their sharp wings cutting through the air like scythes. "is that all you''ve got?" volk sneered, clapping his hands again. booooom! another thunderous wave of compressed air shot outward, slamming into the harpies like a tidal wave. they were thrown back, their wings flailing as they struggled to regain control. one slammed into a tree trunk with a sickening crack, while the other managed to hover unsteadily, her sharp gaze locked onto volk. more harpies circled above, their glowing eyes narrowing as they observed his devastating power. one of them let out a shrill command, and a group of four dove simultaneously, their talons gleaming like daggers in the pale light. your journey continues with empire volk snarled, his radioactive glow intensifying. his fists clenched as he raised one hand and slammed it into the ground. the earth quaked beneath him, sending jagged cracks racing outward. a plume of toxic green energy erupted from the ground, engulfing the diving harpies. their cries turned to choking gasps as they were caught in the noxious fumes, their feathers burning and falling away like ash. "you''re in my territory now!" volk roared, his voice a thunderous bellow. one particularly large harpy, her feathers shimmering with a golden hue, dove toward him with incredible speed. her talons, wreathed in wind magic, aimed directly for volk''s head. he reacted with inhuman speed, leaping into the air to meet her. boom! his clap sent another shockwave crashing into her mid-dive. the harpy managed to twist her body just enough to avoid the full brunt of the attack, but the force still sent her spiraling off course. volk didn''t give her a chance to recover. he shot forward, his radioactive aura leaving a burning trail in the air, and grabbed her by the throat. "you thought you could stop me?" volk growled, his grip tightening as the harpy struggled, her talons clawing desperately at his arm. with a flick of his wrist, volk hurled her downward. she crashed into the earth with an impact that shook the forest inside this cave floor, a crater forming around her limp body. the remaining harpies hesitated, their circling patterns growing erratic. fear began to creep into their cries as they realized the full extent of volk''s power. but one of them, a male with black feathers streaked with crimson, screamed a rallying cry and dove toward volk, leading the others in one final, desperate attack. volk laughed¡ªa low, guttural sound that sent chills down their spines. he raised his arms wide as if inviting their assault. "come, then!" he roared, his radioactive form blazing brighter than ever. "let''s see how long you can last!" as the harpies closed in, volk clapped his hands together with unprecedented force. booooooooom! the shockwave this time was monumental, tearing through the air like a hurricane. trees were uprooted, the earth split, and the harpies were thrown like ragdolls. those that were closest to him were obliterated on impact, their bodies disintegrating into ash. the survivors flapped desperately, their wings battered and broken, as they fell to the ground in heaps. volk stood amidst the destruction, his radioactive glow flickering ominously. the air around him was thick with the scent of burning feathers and scorched earth. his chest heaved with exertion, but his grin never faltered. one last harpy, the male who had led the charge, crawled toward him, his wings torn and useless. he glared up at volk with defiance even as blood dripped from his beak. "you... won''t win," the harpy rasped. "the skies¡­ belong to us¡­" volk crouched down, his glowing eyes locking onto the harpy''s. "the skies might belong to you," he said, his voice dripping with menace. "but the ground is where you''ll meet your end." with one final clap, booooom! the harpy''s life was extinguished, his body reduced to dust. volk straightened, his radioactive glow dimming slightly as he surveyed the battlefield. the once-proud harpies lay defeated, their bodies strewn across the cave. he exhaled deeply, his grin fading into a satisfied smirk. "this," volk muttered to himself, "is what happens when you cross me." as the harpy people scattered to escape, panic rippled through their ranks like an earthquake tearing apart a fragile structure. the leader shouted commands, but chaos consumed them. wings beat frantically against the air, the sounds of feathers slicing through the wind mixing with cries of alarm and fear. suddenly¡ªsnap! one harpy darted too low and triggered a concealed trap. a massive spiked net whipped upward from the forest inside this cave floor, ensnaring the unfortunate harpy mid-flight. she screeched, flapping wildly, but the sharpened edges of the net tore at her wings, leaving her trapped and bleeding. another harpy swooped high, attempting to climb into the sky and call for reinforcements. wham! a hidden catapult released from the ground, launching a weighted boulder that smashed into his torso. he spiraled downward, colliding with the earth in a lifeless heap. the remaining harpies paused mid-flight, their frantic movements faltering as they scanned the terrain with terror-filled eyes. boom! a firebomb ignited behind them, setting the treetops ablaze and forcing them into a more confined path. "this can''t be happening!" one of the younger harpies cried, her voice trembling. she darted left, only to trigger another trap¡ªa line of poisoned barbs launched from the shadows, embedding into her delicate wings. with a scream, she plummeted to the forest inside this cave floor, writhing as the venom began to take hold. the leader gritted his teeth, his sharp eyes narrowing as he tried to assess the situation. "hold your positions! form into defensive flocks!" he bellowed, but the harpies were beyond reasoning. their panic drove them blindly into the air, into the ground, into traps that volk had meticulously prepared. one harpy zigzagged through the forest inside this cave, thinking she''d found an escape route. suddenly, the ground beneath her gave way, and she plunged into a pit filled with sharpened stakes. her body landed with a sickening crunch. another harpy, trying to pull her free, flapped desperately near the edge of the pit but was struck by a hidden dart that pierced her throat. blood bubbled up as she collapsed beside her fallen comrade. the leader''s frustration boiled over. "cowards! fly higher! stay above the treetops!" but as the surviving harpies ascended, a massive net fired from the canopy, wrapping around three of them and dragging them down with a series of ear-piercing cries. the remaining harpies hesitated, wings beating furiously as they hovered in place, unsure whether to retreat or press on. thunk! another trap activated¡ªa volley of flaming arrows arced through the sky, forcing the hovering harpies to scatter again. the leader swore under his breath, clutching his spear tightly. "regroup! we need to¡ª" his words were cut off as the ground erupted beneath him. volk''s cunning traps had included hidden pressure plates, and now, the harpy leader found himself blasted backward by an explosion of shrapnel and smoke. the harpies that remained attempted to dive back into the trees to evade the relentless assault. but here too, volk had anticipated their every move. concealed nooses of reinforced vines snapped tight around their legs and wings, yanking them violently into the air. they thrashed and screamed, dangling helplessly above the forest inside this cave floor. sea??h th§× novelfire.net* website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. everywhere they turned, there was another trap, another death waiting for them. they tried to regroup, but the confusion was too great. harpies collided mid-flight, some crashing to the ground in a heap of broken wings and limbs. others tried to ascend higher but were relentlessly pursued by flaming projectiles, explosions, and smoke that choked their lungs and stung their eyes. the harpy leader, now battered and bloodied, stared around in disbelief. his proud flock, once so untouchable in the skies, was being systematically obliterated. "this... this can''t be happening," he muttered, clutching his weapon. his sharp eyes searched the shadows, and then he saw him¡ªvolk. emerging from the darkness like a shadow given form, volk stood tall amidst the carnage, his radioactive glow barely illuminating his twisted grin. his voice cut through the cacophony of screams and flames, cold and mocking. "run if you want. fly if you can. but this forest inside this cave will be your tomb. you brought this upon yourselves." the harpies, seeing volk, let out cries of fury and desperation, but their numbers were too diminished to mount a proper counterattack. one by one, they fell into the traps, their bodies littering the battlefield. Chapter 301 Clueless horde the harpy people fell one after another, their screeches of fury fading into silence as volk''s traps and sheer might brought their reign of the skies to a bloody end.the last harpy, their leader, glared defiantly at volk before succumbing to the crushing blow of his axe. the battlefield, littered with feathers and blood, was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves disturbed by the lingering breeze. then, the familiar chime echoed in volk''s ears. ding! you have destroyed all the harpies. reward: a complete map and direction to the elven territory of orzaroth. sea??h th§× nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. volk''s sharp eyes widened as a translucent map unfurled before him, glowing faintly in the dim light. detailed routes to orzaroth sprawled across the projection, showing landmarks, forests, rivers, and guarded borders. the elven territory was now within reach¡ªa goal he''d long coveted. explore more stories with empire a toothy grin spread across volk''s face. "finally," he muttered, his voice low but triumphant. the harpies had been formidable, their persistence and cunning nearly exhausting his patience, but now they were gone, and the reward was his. he turned back toward the cave, his powerful strides crunching over broken branches and scattered feathers. entering the cave, he saw his horde¡ªogres and orcs alike¡ªstill sprawled out in exhausted slumber. blood-streaked and battered, their faces were serene in rest, unaware of the battle that volk had fought and won on their behalf. volk stood silently for a moment, his gaze sweeping over them. these warriors, his kin, had trusted him to lead them, and while their strategies and strength were valuable, there were times when he had to shoulder the burden alone. watching them rest, their chests rising and falling rhythmically, a rare warmth spread through his chest. he muttered under his breath, "they don''t even know¡­ not yet." slowly, he settled down against the cool stone of the cave wall, leaning back as he allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation. he felt the aches and pains of the battle creeping up on him, but it was a good pain¡ªa reminder of victory. his heavy lids closed, and for the first time in a long while, volk allowed himself to rest, a content smirk lingering on his face. the map to orzaroth was his. the harpies were no more. and his horde, oblivious to the danger that had been vanquished, would wake to a new day without the shadow of harpy wings looming over them. for now, volk allowed himself the peace of sleep. tomorrow, they would march toward the elven lands, and a new chapter of conquest would begin. ¡­ two days passed in the damp, cold confines of the cave. the stillness was broken by the soft groans and heavy stretches of the horde waking up. the ogres cracked their knuckles, their towering frames shifting as they rolled stiff shoulders. the orcs rubbed their eyes, fangs flashing briefly as they yawned in unison. the air carried the faint scent of soot and damp earth, but a peculiar sense of peace settled over them. for the first time in what felt like an eternity, they had slept deeply, uninterrupted by the sounds of battle, the clanging of weapons, or the desperate screams of the dying. one of the younger orcs, his green skin marred by shallow scars from recent fights, blinked sluggishly as he stretched his arms. "that was... that was the best sleep i''ve had in years," he muttered, almost disbelieving. he turned to an older orc sharpening his blade. "do you feel it? like we actually rested for once?" the elder orc paused, looking up from his blade with a grunt. "hmph. feels strange. my muscles aren''t burning, my head isn''t pounding. almost feels like i''ve gone soft," he said, though a faint smile tugged at his cracked lips. an ogre leaned against the cave wall, his massive frame nearly blocking out the dim light filtering through the entrance. "you''re not wrong," he rumbled, his deep voice echoing. "i don''t remember the last time i didn''t wake up aching everywhere. feels... unnatural." another orc joined in, his tone light-hearted. "unnatural? it feels like a damn miracle. you don''t get nights like that in the wild. i woke up and didn''t even think about sharpening my weapon first thing. that''s how good it was." the group burst into chuckles, the tension from the past battles momentarily lifting. conversations blossomed among them, recounting their exhaustion before this rare respite. one ogre joked about how he had dreamed of eating an entire mountain of roasted boar, while an orc bragged that his dreams involved slaughtering an endless wave of enemies without getting tired. volk, leaning against a jagged rock at the cave''s edge, observed them with his sharp, calculating eyes. his arms were crossed over his broad chest, and a sly smirk played on his lips. he allowed their laughter to fill the cave for a few moments before clearing his throat. the sound carried an authority that silenced the chatter instantly, drawing every gaze to him. "good sleep, was it?" volk began, his tone dripping with amusement. his gaze swept over the group, his smirk widening. "do none of you remember why we came here? why we''re hiding in the shadows of this cave like prey?" the horde exchanged confused glances, their laughter fading. one orc hesitantly spoke up, scratching his head. "uh... we were training? fighting? running, maybe? it''s all a blur." volk''s smirk turned into a sharp grin. "running. chased like animals. by harpies." gasps and murmurs rippled through the group. the realization dawned on them like a cold splash of water, and some of them shifted uncomfortably. "harpies?" one ogre repeated, his voice laced with both confusion and embarrassment. "you mean those feathered pests from the sky were hunting us? impossible! i will kill them!" volk looked at the ogre and laughed inwardly. last time, you were black and blue, beaten to the point of almost crying, and now you act like you don''t remember? how shameless. but considering that ogres were brain-dead idiots, he could only sigh. ultimately, volk nodded, his grin fading into a serious expression. "yes. those ''feathered pests'' who have been hunting us relentlessly, waiting for a moment of weakness to finish us off. the ones who tore through the trees and nearly bled us dry. and yet, you all slept so soundly as if we had won a grand victory." the group fell silent, their gazes dropping to the cave floor. some muttered curses under their breath, while others clenched their fists in shame. "but," volk continued, his voice growing louder and more commanding, "that''s why i''m here. to think ahead, to ensure your survival." he let the words sink in before delivering the next blow. "do you think they''ve simply given up? that they''ve flown away, defeated, while you lot snored away the hours?" the orcs and ogres tensed, their earlier relaxation replaced with renewed unease. "if they haven''t left," one orc dared to ask, his voice wavering, "then why haven''t they attacked us yet?" volk leaned forward, his eyes glinting dangerously. "because they''re cautious. they think we''ve laid traps. they know we''re vengeful creatures, and they suspect we''re waiting for them to strike. that hesitation is the only reason you''re alive right now." the horde exchanged uneasy glances, but volk raised a hand to silence any questions. "and it''s not just their fear that keeps them at bay. i''ve already dealt with them, scouted their movements, and ensured they''ll hesitate to come near us again for now." the horde blinked in surprise, a wave of admiration washing over them. "you... you dealt with them?" one of the younger orcs asked, his voice filled with awe. "alone?" volk didn''t answer directly. instead, he turned his back to them, his voice carrying a note of finality. "you''re safe for now. but it''s not over. we need to recover fully before we make our move." the group erupted into cheers, their earlier doubts and fears replaced with renewed confidence. they clapped their hands, stomped their feet, and roared in agreement. "for volk! for the horde! for warchief!" they shouted with their lungs and chest out, their voices echoing off the cave walls that they were in like a grumbling volcano. volk allowed their enthusiasm to build before turning back, his expression fierce and commanding. "rest for now," he ordered. "heal your wounds, sharpen your weapons, and regain your strength. when the time comes, we''ll make our comeback, and those harpies will wish they''d never crossed us. we will make them pay!" the horde roared in agreement, their spirits lifted. "lok''tar ogaaaaar!!" "lok''tar ogaaaaar!!" "lok''tar ogaaaaar!!" one by one, they began to settle back into their makeshift resting spots, their trust in volk''s leadership solidified. as the cave fell silent once more, volk watched them with a faint smirk, his mind already calculating their next move. facing the harpies, made volk a little humble, fortunately, he can access through his power now and his radioactive form was much longer, if not, they would have been defeated. what if they met another group of monsters and he already used his radioactive form? it seems he needed to strengthen his horde from ground, water and land! Chapter 302 Accident as the dim light of dawn broke through the cracks and crevices of the cave, casting faint shadows across the jagged walls, volk stood tall amidst his resting horde. s§×arch* the n?velfire.n§×t website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.the once-quiet cave began to stir as the faint rustling of ogres and orcs waking filled the air. volk''s crimson gaze swept across his warriors, the remnants of bloodied battles still staining their skin. the fire in his eyes betrayed the storm brewing in his mind¡ªa fierce determination tempered by careful calculation. he raised his arm slowly, commanding silence. the air in the cavern grew heavy, the gravity of his presence drawing all eyes to him. volk''s voice, deep and resonant, echoed through the space. "brothers, sisters," he began, his tone carrying an undeniable authority. "the time of hiding is over. this day, we reclaim the skies and the ground beneath it." the orcs and ogres straightened, their fatigue momentarily forgotten, their chests swelling with resolve. volk walked to the center of the cavern, his footsteps purposeful. he stopped, turning sharply to face them all. "but before we ascend, before we face those who dare hunt us," he said, his voice sharpening, "there is work to be done." he gestured toward a cluster of ogres to his left. "you, check every nook and cranny of this cave. i want no blind spots. map out the tunnels. if there are secondary exits, i need to know about them. mark each with something visible¡ªclaw marks, rocks, anything that will guide us swiftly if we must retreat or flank." the ogres nodded, their heavy brows furrowing in concentration as they prepared to carry out their task. volk turned to a group of orcs seated near the mouth of the cave. "you," he commanded, pointing at them with a clawed finger, "return to the trails we left yesterday. obscure them further, but not too perfectly. let the harpies think they still have the upper hand. make it messy¡ªchaotic. scatter rocks, create false paths, leave faint traces that lead to dead ends." an orc raised his hand hesitantly. "but, lord volk," he said, his voice gruff, "won''t they see through such tricks?" volk smiled coldly, his tusks glinting in the dim light. "let them see through it," he said. "the more they think they''re clever, the deeper they''ll fall into our web. trust me. confusion is our weapon now." he pivoted again, addressing another cluster of his warriors. "you will scout the surface," he barked. "do not engage unless absolutely necessary. study their formations, their movements. count their numbers. if the skies are still full of their kind, report back immediately. if the skies are clear, we advance." a ripple of murmurs spread through the horde, but volk silenced them with a raised hand. "this task is vital," he said. "without this information, we are blind. and blind warriors are dead warriors." he paused, letting his words sink in, then turned to his most trusted lieutenants. "the rest of you," he said, "will prepare. sharpen your weapons. reinforce your armor with what you can find. the harpies believe they hold the skies, but i intend to clip their wings. when the time comes, we will show them the strength of those who fight for survival, not arrogance." volk''s pacing came to a halt. he stood at the center once more, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed his troops. his voice dropped lower, but its intensity did not waver. "today is not about vengeance," he said. "it is about reclaiming our right to exist. they think us weak because we hide. let them think it. let them descend into this cave, into the heart of our strength. and when they do¡ª" his fist shot into the air, clenching tightly. "we will crush them!" the cave erupted in a chorus of roars and battle cries, the sound reverberating through the cavern like thunder. volk let the fervor swell before raising his hand again to restore order. "and now," he said, his voice steady, "to the surface. let the skies know we do not cower. move out!" one by one, the orcs and ogres began their tasks. the scouts crept toward the cave''s entrance, their movements deliberate and silent. the ogres lumbered deeper into the cave, their massive forms disappearing into the darkness as they mapped the tunnels. others set about sharpening their weapons, their faces grim and determined. as his warriors dispersed, volk remained still, his eyes fixed on the faint light filtering into the cave. ¡­ volk was making his way back along the concealed trails his horde had left behind, his mind still stewing over the potential confrontation with the harpies, when the first complaints reached his ears. an ogre limped toward him, his massive leg marred by deep, jagged wounds. "chief!" the ogre growled, frustration etched into his face. "this trail is cursed! my leg¡ªit got sliced by something sharp. i didn''t even see it!" volk raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, another orc stumbled forward, clutching his shoulder where a crude spike trap had embedded itself. "it''s not just him, chief! i almost lost my arm back there! what kind of magic are these harpies using?" more voices began to rise from behind, echoing through the dense undergrowth and faintly along the cave walls. one ogre collapsed onto his knees, gritting his teeth as he pulled out a series of sharpened stakes lodged in his side. "i thought this path was safe!" he snarled. another orc, bloodied but seething, stormed to volk''s side. "we''ve already lost two of our best trackers, chief! something''s wrong. are we being hunted?" volk''s eyes darted to the surrounding trees and ground, and an uncomfortable realization dawned upon him. these weren''t traps set by the harpies¡ªthey were his traps. he''d meticulously crafted and laid them to ensure the enemy couldn''t escape if they followed. they were designed for winged creatures swooping low or descending to the forest floor in search of an advantage. yet somehow, his own horde had managed to trigger nearly all of them. hahaha he almost choked on his own saliva. the chorus of complaints only grew louder. "i stepped into a loop snare!" cried a particularly enraged orc, hoisting his swollen, bound leg into the air. "i nearly lost my head to a tripwire!" shouted another, whose helmet was now grotesquely dented from where a log trap had struck it. "are we fighting ghosts or harpies?" "my axe broke trying to hack through some hidden spikes!" "my foot! my foot! it''s gone!" wailed an ogre, who was currently being supported by two orcs, his face pale with shock. volk froze for a moment, his usually commanding composure wavering. his eyes were saying something else, but immediately he knew he should compose himself. he clenched his jaw and quickly assessed the situation, only to realize the damage was far worse than he initially thought. almost every member of his horde bore fresh wounds¡ªcuts, punctures, gashes, and bruises, all inflicted by his own traps. yes, almost every member of his horde bore fresh wounds¡ªcuts, punctures, gashes, and bruises, all inflicted by his own traps. by his own very traps! volk couldn''t help but laugh inwardly inside. somehow, he is enjoying this but he knew he shouldn''t because these creatures were simple minded and might think that he is their enemy. he didn''t want his small backup army to lose trust in him. suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted. one particularly sharp-witted orc narrowed his eyes at volk. "chief, this doesn''t feel like harpy work. their magic is precise and designed to wear us down from the air. these traps¡ªthey''re too crude for harpies but too effective against ground forces like us." another ogre joined in, his tone accusing. "yeah, chief, these traps look like something we''d make." volk could feel the weight of dozens of eyes boring into him, each questioning his leadership. he cleared his throat awkwardly, raising a hand to silence the murmurs and grumbles. he straightened his posture, drawing upon the authority that had always been his strength. "it seems the harpies are craftier than we gave them credit for," volk said, his voice gruff but steady. "they must have anticipated our retreat into the forest and set these traps to demoralize us. it is known that with their sharp eyes, and minds, they can pick up anything¡­ interesting¡­" a few of the orcs exchanged skeptical glances, but most nodded along, their anger redirecting toward the harpies rather than their leader. volk continued, his expression grim. "this only proves their cunning. they fear us¡ªfear me¡ªso much that they''ve resorted to desperate measures. we''ll take these wounds as badges of honor, proof that even cornered vermin are willing to strike out before they''re crushed beneath our boots!" the horde let out a scattered but half-hearted cheer, though the pain and frustration in their eyes lingered. your next read is at empire as volk turned away, he muttered under his breath, "damn harpies," knowing full well that the only ''vermin'' responsible for this disaster was him. Chapter 303 Disabling traps the cavern loomed large and dark, its jagged walls faintly illuminated by the dim, bioluminescent moss that clung to its edges.the cavern floor was a sprawling labyrinth of uneven stone, cracked crevices, and puddles of stagnant water. each step echoed with a hollow tap-tap as the massive horde of orcs and ogres trudged forward. their guttural voices reverberated off the walls as they argued and grunted, brimming with anticipation. many of them, clad in rough-hewn armor, carried crude weapons¡ªjagged axes, chipped swords, and clubs studded with bone. they were ready for war, ready to charge into the open air and face the harpy people. volk stood at the edge of the group, silent and calculating. the skeletal remains of his undead subordinates formed a quiet, macabre ring around him. their bones clinked softly, a hollow clack-clack, with each subtle movement. his crimson eyes glowed faintly, though he kept his hood drawn low to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. he had already dealt with the harpies, a fact he had chosen to keep hidden from his horde. the battle had been swift and brutal. feathers and blood had painted the cold stone red as he cut through their ranks with methodical precision. every harpy''s shriek, every desperate screee of wings beating against his encroaching horde of undead, still lingered in his ears. but his horde didn''t know. the orcs and ogres hadn''t seen the lifeless bodies scattered across the rocky terrain far above them. they hadn''t seen volk''s traps snapping shut with snap-crack! precision or the cruel spikes hidden beneath the loose gravel impaling their foes. they didn''t know how the battle had ended before it had even begun. and volk intended to keep it that way. volk''s voice cut through the restless grumbling like a blade through flesh. "hold," he commanded, his tone low and calm, yet filled with authority. the horde stopped, though the air remained heavy with anticipation. weapons scraped against stone as they shifted in their hands, the orcs and ogres glaring at each other with barely restrained impatience. one particularly massive ogre, with a scar that split his face in two, stepped forward. his voice was deep and gravelly, like the rumbling of distant thunder. "we''re ready, volk. the harpies won''t stand a chance against us." his lips curled into a savage grin, revealing jagged, yellow teeth. the others grunted in agreement, some slamming their weapons against their shields with loud clang-clang! sounds of approval. volk turned to face them fully, his cloak billowing slightly as he moved. your adventure continues at empire his undead minions shuffled behind him, their hollow sockets gazing lifelessly ahead. "no," he said, his voice carrying a hint of steel. "we''re not ready." a chorus of protests erupted from the horde. "not ready?" "we''ve waited long enough!" "the harpies are cowards! let us spill their blood!" the ogre with the scar snarled, his muscles rippling as he clenched his fists. "why should we wait? we''ve trained. we''ve prepared. the harpy people will fall before our strength!" volk raised a hand, and silence fell, though the tension in the air was palpable. "the harpies are cunning," he said, his voice measured. "they''ve littered the surface with traps. hidden pits. poisonous spikes. their strategy is not to face us head-on but to whittle us down with ambushes. if we charge forward recklessly, we will lose far more than we gain." the horde murmured among themselves, but the fire in their eyes dimmed slightly. volk could see doubt creeping into their minds, but it wasn''t enough. not yet. he gestured to the depths of the cave behind them. "i set traps as well," he continued. "traps designed to counter the harpies'' ambushes. but they must be studied. improved. if we rush forward now, we''ll be walking into their claws blindly. we need to go back. study the traps. understand their weaknesses and strengths. only then will we be truly prepared to face the harpy people." the ogre growled low in his throat. "study? we''re warriors, not scholars. why waste time on such nonsense when we could be spilling blood?" volk''s gaze hardened, and his aura shifted. the undead at his back stirred, their bones scraping together with a chilling creeeek-creeek. "do you think war is just about strength?" he asked, his voice as sharp as a blade. "do you think brute force will win you victory? if you charge forward without strategy, you''ll die. your bodies will be torn apart, your blood will soak the ground, and the harpies will feast on your flesh. is that what you want?" the ogre took a step back, his confidence faltering. the rest of the horde fell silent, their eyes fixed on volk. the weight of his words pressed down on them, as heavy as the stone walls surrounding them. "we go back," volk said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "we study the traps. we prepare. and when the time comes to face the harpies, we will crush them. not as reckless fools, but as an unstoppable force." the horde hesitated, their defiance wavering. volk could see the gears turning in their minds, their reluctance clashing with their survival instincts. he knew it wouldn''t be easy to convince them. they were orcs and ogres, creatures of instinct and bloodlust. but volk had faced worse challenges. he had faced death itself and emerged victorious. he could handle this. the ogre with the scar grunted, his shoulders slumping slightly. "fine," he said grudgingly. "we''ll do it your way. but this better not be a waste of time." volk nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "it won''t be," he said. "i promise you that." with that, the horde turned and began making their way back into the depths of the cave. the sound of their footsteps echoed through the cavern, a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that reverberated off the walls. volk followed behind them, his undead minions moving in eerie silence. he felt a flicker of satisfaction. the harpies were already dead, their traps dismantled. but his horde didn''t need to know that. they needed to believe in the threat. they needed to believe in the necessity of preparation. only then would they be ready for the battles to come. as they descended deeper into the cave, volk''s mind raced. he would use this time to strengthen his control over the horde, to cement his authority. he would study their weaknesses, their strengths, and ensure that they were as prepared as they believed themselves to be. and when the time came to reveal the truth about the harpies, he would do so in a way that would solidify his place as their leader. s~ea??h the n??el fire.n§×t website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. the horde grumbled and muttered as they moved, their frustration palpable. but they followed. they obeyed. and that was all that mattered. volk allowed himself a small, grim smile. the cave was eerily silent when night fell. only the faint drip-drip of water seeping through the jagged stone ceiling and the low, rhythmic snores of the horde broke the oppressive stillness. the massive forms of orcs and ogres lay sprawled across the cavern floor, their heavy bodies rising and falling with each breath. the makeshift camp was littered with crude bedrolls, scattered weapons, and the remnants of a hasty meal. a low, smoky fire in the center of the chamber crackled weakly, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls like restless spirits. volk lay still among them, his hood pulled low, his body shrouded in the thick, black cloak that made him appear like little more than an ominous shadow. his breathing was slow, deliberate, blending seamlessly with the quiet rhythm of the slumbering horde. his undead minions, hidden deeper in the cave, stood motionless, like statues carved from bone and malice. the horde thought he, too, slept. they thought he shared their exhaustion after the long day of marching, planning, and arguing. but volk didn''t need sleep¡ªnot like they did. he opened his eyes. the crimson glow in his gaze was faint, barely noticeable in the dim firelight. he shifted slowly, carefully, like a predator moving through tall grass, ensuring that even the sharpest ears in the horde wouldn''t hear a thing. the rustle of his cloak was softer than the whisper of a breeze. his movements were calculated, each one deliberate and precise. he had perfected this routine over countless nights. this was not the first time he moved among the horde unnoticed, and it wouldn''t be the last. rising to his feet, volk stepped silently over the sleeping forms of his followers. his boots touched the stone floor with practiced grace, producing no more sound than the soft pat-pat of falling leaves. he navigated the camp with an almost supernatural ease, weaving between snoring orcs and sprawled ogres. one particularly massive orc stirred in his sleep, a low growl rumbling from his throat as he shifted position. volk froze, his muscles coiled like a spring. the orc mumbled something incoherent, then rolled onto his side, his breathing evening out once more. volk moved on. he reached the edge of the camp and paused, glancing back over his shoulder. Chapter 304 Outside the horde was oblivious, lost in their dreams of battle and bloodshed.satisfied, volk stepped into the deeper shadows of the cave, where the faint firelight couldn''t reach. the darkness swallowed him whole, and he became one with it, a phantom gliding through the void. enjoy more content from empire the deeper he went, the quieter the cave became. the snoring faded into the distance, replaced by the faint echoes of his footsteps against the stone¡ªsoft tap-tap-tap sounds that seemed to stretch endlessly in the cavernous space. the air grew colder, sharper, as if the cave itself was holding its breath. volk welcomed the chill. it was familiar, a reminder of the countless nights he had spent alone, planning, scheming, and acting in the shadows while others rested. eventually, he emerged into a narrow tunnel that led upward, toward the surface. the path was treacherous, winding and uneven, with loose stones that threatened to shift underfoot. but volk knew it well. he had traveled it many times before, laying the very traps he was now returning to dismantle. he ascended with ease, his every step careful and precise. his boots scraped against the stone with the faintest scritch-scritch, a sound that would have been lost entirely if not for the oppressive silence around him. as he climbed, his mind wandered. the horde believed his warnings about the harpies. they believed his insistence that the traps needed to be studied. but volk knew better. the traps were a charade, a smokescreen to keep the horde occupied, to buy him time. the harpies were already dead, their bodies reduced to lifeless husks by his hand. there was no threat, no ambush waiting on the surface. but the horde didn''t need to know that. they needed purpose, direction, something to rally around. volk provided that, even if it was built on lies. he reached the first trap, a pit concealed beneath a thin layer of gravel and dried leaves. the mechanism was simple yet effective, designed to give way under the weight of a harpy and send it plunging onto the sharpened spikes below. volk crouched beside it, his fingers brushing against the edge of the pit. the faint clink of metal spikes shifting echoed in the tunnel as he carefully began to disarm it. piece by piece, he dismantled the trap. the spikes were pulled from their sockets with a soft creak, the gravel smoothed over with quiet precision. when he finished, the pit looked like nothing more than an ordinary patch of rocky ground. he moved on. the next trap was a cluster of tripwires strung between jagged stalagmites, connected to a crude but deadly mechanism involving a falling slab of stone. volk disarmed it with the same meticulous care, his hands moving deftly in the darkness. the wire twanged faintly as he severed it, and the stone slab shifted slightly before he secured it in place, ensuring it would pose no threat to anyone passing through. one by one, he dismantled the traps, each one vanishing into obscurity as if it had never been there at all. his movements were precise, methodical, like a craftsman undoing his own masterpiece. the process was slow, deliberate, and utterly silent. by the time he reached the last trap¡ªa particularly vicious contraption involving poison-tipped spikes¡ªhours had passed. the faintest hint of predawn light was beginning to filter into the cave, casting a pale, cold glow on the stone walls. volk straightened, his task complete. the traps were gone, erased from existence. the surface was now as empty and barren as it had been before he began his campaign against the harpies. he stood there for a moment, his crimson eyes scanning the area, ensuring that no trace of his work remained. satisfied, he turned and began his descent. the journey back to the horde''s camp was as silent and careful as his ascent had been. the faint tap-tap of his boots against the stone was the only sound in the oppressive stillness of the cave. when he reached the camp, the horde was still asleep, their heavy snores filling the air. volk moved among them like a shadow, slipping back into his place without a single sound. he lay down, his cloak wrapping around him like a shroud, and closed his eyes. to the horde, it would seem as if he had never left. ¡­ the next morning arrived with the faint echoes of stirring bodies and low, guttural grunts. the horde slowly roused from their sleep, stretching their bulky limbs and shaking off the last vestiges of slumber. the dying embers of the fire crackled weakly, spitting faint sparks as one of the orcs nudged it back to life with a long stick. the air was heavy with the familiar stench of unwashed bodies, burnt meat, and the faint metallic tang of weapons. orcs barked orders at one another, their deep voices ricocheting off the cavern walls. ogres stomped around the camp, their heavy footfalls thud-thudding like distant drums. weapons were picked up, armor adjusted, and the horde prepared to move once again. volk stood apart, his cloak draped around him like a mantle of shadows. his undead minions remained unseen, hidden deeper within the darkness of the cave. his crimson eyes scanned the horde as they prepared, watching their movements with a calculating gaze. "time to move," volk said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. the horde gathered quickly, their focus shifting to their leader. the massive ogre with the scar, who had been the most vocal about charging forward, stepped closer. he grunted as he slung a massive spiked club over his shoulder. "finally. the harpy people won''t know what hit them," he said, a savage grin splitting his face. volk nodded, though his expression remained unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. "stay alert," he said. "we''ll be moving through territory they''ve likely trapped. keep your eyes open. any sign of their work, you report it to me immediately." the horde grunted in acknowledgment, though some exchanged uneasy glances. they remembered volk''s warnings from the previous day, about the cunning traps that littered the surface. the tension in the air was palpable as they fell into formation, the orcs and ogres lining up in a chaotic but effective marching order. volk led them forward, his steps steady and deliberate. the cavern''s twisting passageways stretched before them, illuminated only by the faint bioluminescent moss clinging to the walls. the horde moved cautiously, their weapons held at the ready, their eyes darting to every shadow and crevice. but as they pressed onward, an unease began to creep through the group. the traps volk had warned them about were nowhere to be seen. the first to notice was a wiry orc with a patch over one eye. he stopped abruptly, his brow furrowing as he crouched down to inspect the ground. "this doesn''t feel right," he muttered, running his hand over the gravel. "there should be something here. a pit, a tripwire¡ªanything." another orc joined him, his heavy boots crunching on the stone. "maybe we''re in the wrong place," he said, though his voice was uncertain. the scarred ogre growled, his impatience flaring. "keep moving," he snapped. "you think the harpies are just going to sit there waiting for us? volk knows what he''s doing." the others hesitated but eventually obeyed, their concerns buried beneath the weight of the ogre''s authority. volk, walking at the head of the group, kept his gaze forward, his expression unreadable. he could feel their unease growing, their questions bubbling beneath the surface. but he knew they wouldn''t press him. not yet. the same pattern repeated itself as they continued their march. places where traps should have been were conspicuously empty. no pits. no wires. no poison-tipped spikes. the horde grew restless, their murmurs spreading like ripples through the group. "where are they?" one orc whispered. "this doesn''t make sense," another muttered. but each time doubt surfaced, volk kept them moving. his presence was a commanding force, one that quelled their uncertainty with a single glance. "the harpies may have moved their traps," volk said without breaking stride. his voice was calm, authoritative, but offered no further explanation. and the horde, despite their doubts, followed. the air grew lighter as they neared the cave''s exit. the faint, cold light of morning seeped into the darkness, casting long, pale beams across the jagged stone walls. the sound of dripping water grew fainter, replaced by the distant whhhsssshhh of wind sweeping through the mountains beyond. as they emerged into the open air, the horde paused, their eyes adjusting to the brightness. the cave''s mouth opened onto a sprawling landscape of rocky cliffs and jagged peaks, bathed in the soft light of dawn. the sky above was a pale, washed-out blue, streaked with wisps of gray clouds. a brisk wind whipped through the group, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and frost. volk stepped out first, his cloak billowing behind him as he surveyed the terrain. his crimson eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the barren rocks and distant slopes. s~ea??h the nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. there were no harpies, no signs of life. the battlefield he had left behind was already reclaiming itself, nature swallowing the evidence of his ruthless efficiency. the horde gathered behind him, their grumbling replaced by silence as they took in the vast expanse before them. for a moment, no one spoke. the unease about the missing traps was forgotten, swept away by the sheer scope of the land before them. volk turned to face them, his hooded figure silhouetted against the morning light. "we move forward," he said, his voice firm. "stay sharp. the harpy people won''t be far from here." and with that, he led them onward, his steps steady and sure as he guided the horde into the unknown. Chapter 305 Horde ready volk''s voice rang out as the horde stood gathered just beyond the cave''s mouth, their breath clouding in the crisp morning air.his crimson eyes swept over the mass of orcs and ogres, their rough-hewn armor glinting faintly in the pale sunlight. weapons were gripped tightly in massive hands, and tension hummed through the group like a drawn bowstring. "be ready," volk commanded, his tone sharp as steel. "always." the horde roared their affirmation, a cacophony of guttural shouts that echoed off the rocky cliffs around them. orcs thumped their fists against their crude chest plates with loud clang-clang-clang! sounds, while ogres slammed the hafts of their weapons into the ground, creating deep, resounding boom-boom vibrations that seemed to shake the earth itself. the noise was both chaotic and disciplined, a display of raw power and unity. volk''s cloak flared as he raised a hand for silence, and the horde stilled almost instantly. he began to walk in front of them, his steps deliberate, his voice cutting through the mountain wind like a blade. "the harpy people may not be the only danger," he said, his tone grave. "do not look only to the skies. do not let your guard fall because the cliffs look empty or the ground seems clear. dangers do not always announce themselves." the horde murmured among themselves, glancing toward the jagged peaks and the open sky. a few orcs shifted uncomfortably, their eyes flickering between the high, craggy cliffs and the shadowy slopes below. "you will stay alert," volk continued, his voice rising to ensure none could miss his words. "if you hear something, see something, feel something¡ªyou report it immediately. if you hesitate, you''ll die. and if you die, you''ll weaken the horde." his crimson eyes narrowed, the faint glow behind his hood flickering ominously. "i will not tolerate weakness." the scarred ogre grunted, his massive spiked club resting on his shoulder. "we''ll march, volk," he growled, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. "we''ll stay sharp." "then move," volk said, pointing down the rocky path ahead. "march." the horde fell into formation, their heavy boots pounding the earth with a steady thud-thud-thud. .armor clanged and creaked as they moved, the metallic din punctuated by the occasional grunt or growl. their eyes darted everywhere¡ªup to the vast expanse of sky where clouds drifted lazily, down to the uneven ground littered with jagged stones, and across the ridges of the cliffs where shadows stretched and danced in the shifting light. volk walked at the head of the group, his dark cloak trailing behind him like the shadow of a predator. he kept his gaze forward, but his ears remained tuned to the horde''s movements, every step, every clang, every faint breath. his own senses stretched out across the rocky terrain, searching for anything that might be amiss. hours passed. the sun climbed higher, casting harsh light across the barren landscape. the horde''s pace was relentless, the sound of their march echoing endlessly through the mountain valleys. the rocky path wound through narrow passes and opened onto sweeping ridges that overlooked the rugged expanse below. despite their vigilance, nothing appeared¡ªno signs of life, no whispers of wings, no ambushes waiting to spring. the ogres grew restless first. their heavy bodies were built for brute force, not endless walking. they grumbled to themselves, their massive weapons clinking against their backs. the orcs, too, began to falter in their focus, their eyes drifting more toward their own boots than the surrounding terrain. volk stopped suddenly, raising a hand. the horde halted behind him with a chorus of surprised grunts and the sharp clang of weapons scraping against armor. "complacency will kill you faster than any enemy," volk said, his voice cutting through their growing fatigue like a whip. he turned, his crimson gaze sweeping over the group. "you think there''s nothing out there because you haven''t seen it? that''s exactly what gets fools killed. look up. look around. look down. danger doesn''t always announce itself with a roar." the horde straightened, their grumbles silenced. some exchanged wary glances, their focus sharpening once again. volk continued. "we move forward, but cautiously. this terrain is too open, too quiet. we need to know what lies ahead before we march into it blindly." he turned toward a cluster of orcs at the edge of the group, their wiry frames and keen eyes marking them as scouts. "you four," he commanded, pointing at them. "fan out. search the cliffs, the slopes, and the skies. look for anything¡ªtracks, signs of movement, disturbances in the terrain. report back immediately if you find anything." the scouts nodded, their movements swift and efficient as they slipped away from the group. they moved like shadows, their forms blending into the rugged landscape as they spread out to search the area. volk turned back to the horde. "the rest of you will wait here. weapons ready. eyes sharp." the horde obeyed, forming a loose circle with weapons drawn. the air grew tense as the minutes dragged on, the silence broken only by the faint whisper of the wind and the occasional clink of shifting armor. some of the orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their hands tightening on their weapons. the ogres stood stoic but watchful, their heavy breaths filling the void. finally, after what felt like an eternity, the first scout returned. he approached volk with quick, sure steps, his expression grim. "nothing," the scout said, his voice low but steady. "no tracks. no signs of movement. the cliffs are empty." s§×arch* the n?vel(f)ire.¦Çet website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. moments later, the other scouts returned, one by one, each with the same report. no traps. no enemies. no signs of life. the horde murmured uneasily, their earlier restlessness returning. volk listened to the scouts'' reports without a word, his face unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. when the last scout finished speaking, he nodded once, his crimson gaze turning toward the distant horizon. "then we move forward," he said. his voice was calm, unshaken, but carried an edge that left no room for argument. the horde obeyed, their unease fading into silence as they fell into formation once more. and so, they marched again, their footsteps echoing through the barren expanse, moving ever closer to whatever awaited them beyond the mountains. inside volk''s mind, a storm brewed. the weight of his decisions pressed heavily on him, though he wore his stoic mask as if nothing troubled him. his crimson eyes remained forward, but his thoughts churned with guilt. the truth gnawed at him like a parasite. he had already dealt with the harpy people¡ªslaughtered them all during the long, lonely nights when his horde slept in ignorance. it was for their sake, he told himself. if he hadn''t acted, the harpy people would have overwhelmed the horde, picking them apart from the skies with surgical precision. volk clenched his fists under his cloak, nails digging into his palms. if it weren''t for the cave''s natural cover, he might have been forced to reveal his radioactive form¡ªhis greatest and most dangerous trump card¡ªto every single member of his horde. and that was unacceptable. his radioactive form was a weapon, but it came with a price. the raw, destructive energy he could unleash wasn''t something he wanted his followers to witness, let alone understand. it was power meant for enemies, not allies. if they saw it, fear could spread like a plague. fear bred distrust, and distrust was poison to any leader. he exhaled softly, a sound almost lost in the brisk wind. but even as guilt and pragmatism warred within him, another thought struck him. they needed an aerial assault force. as he glanced at the distant peaks and the open sky, a grim realization crept in. if the harpy people had been more organized or numerous, even his covert actions might not have been enough. his horde lacked a way to counter threats that came from above. the idea planted itself firmly in his mind. he would need a solution for the future¡ªsomething that could keep his forces safe from aerial predators. but before he could think further, a sudden commotion broke his thoughts. "tracks!" one of the orc scouts shouted, his voice sharp with urgency. the scout came running back toward the group, his boots skidding on loose gravel. "fresh tracks¡ªnearby! harpy people!" the horde erupted into murmurs and growls. weapons were adjusted, armor tightened. the scarred ogre stepped forward, his massive form looming over the scout. "how fresh?" he demanded, his tone a mix of suspicion and eagerness. the scout nodded quickly. "fresh enough that they might still be here. just over the ridge." before volk could issue an order, his vision suddenly blurred. ding! a translucent screen appeared before his eyes, faintly glowing with golden light. experience tales with empire the suddenness of it made him pause, though his expression betrayed nothing. the text on the screen was sharp, clear, and impossible to ignore. --- mission: find the lair of the harpy people within thirty minutes. failure consequences: the map to the elven continent will lose half of its information. rewards: ten aerial assault goblin slaves. --- volk''s jaw tightened, but the message wasn''t finished. another series of options appeared below the primary mission: --- optional timed objectives: complete in 25 minutes: lose one-quarter of map information. rewards: 15 aerial assault goblin slaves. complete in 20 minutes: no map penalties. rewards: 20 aerial assault goblin slaves. complete in 15 minutes: bonus resources included. rewards: 25 aerial assault goblin slaves. complete in 10 minutes: enhanced goblin squadron. rewards: 30 elite aerial goblin slaves. complete in 5 minutes: maximum reinforcement potential. rewards: 50 elite aerial goblin slaves with artillery. Chapter 306 Harpy Mission volk''s crimson eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information. his mind raced, calculating the risks and rewards.the message wasn''t just an annoyance¡ªit was a demand. the penalty for failure, the reward system, the pressure of a ticking clock¡ªit all felt like a cruel joke. but there was no time to dwell on it. volk glanced at the scout who had found the tracks, then at the restless horde behind him. if they could find the lair quickly, he could secure a vital resource. he had no illusions about what the "goblin slaves" implied. s§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lfire .net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. they would be disposable assets, perfect for aerial engagements. he straightened, his expression hardening into something cold and unyielding. "we move immediately," volk barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. he turned to the scarred ogre and pointed toward the ridge. "you''ll lead the main force along this path. weapons ready. move cautiously but swiftly." the ogre thumped his chest in acknowledgment, bellowing orders to the others. volk then looked to his scouts. "you''ll fan out again," he commanded, his tone icy and precise. "focus on the skies and the ridges. if there''s a lair, i want its location now. report the moment you find it. no delays, no mistakes." the scouts nodded, their faces tense but determined as they sprinted off into the wilds. finally, volk''s gaze turned to the remaining members of his horde. "the rest of you will stay in formation. weapons ready. keep an eye on everything¡ªrocks, cliffs, shadows. harpies aren''t the only threat in these mountains." the horde roared their agreement, their energy renewed by the possibility of battle. stay tuned for updates on empire volk stepped forward, leading the way as they moved with a mixture of speed and caution. his eyes flicked toward the translucent screen still hovering at the edge of his vision. the timer had already begun counting down. 29:15¡­ the seconds ticked away relentlessly. the horde advanced, their boots pounding the ground with a steady rhythm. scouts darted through the terrain, their sharp eyes scanning every crevice and outcropping. the tension was palpable, a coiled spring ready to snap. finally, as the timer reached the twenty-minute mark, the scouts began to return. one by one, they arrived, their expressions grim but unified in their reports. "nothing," the first said, shaking his head. "no sign of the lair," said another. volk''s eyes narrowed as he processed the information. his mind raced, considering the possibilities. the harpy people couldn''t have vanished entirely. there had to be something they were missing. for now, however, he gave no outward reaction. "hold position," he ordered, his voice calm but firm. "we keep moving forward. the lair will reveal itself soon enough." and with that, volk led his horde onward, his crimson gaze fixed on the distant peaks as the timer continued its relentless countdown. as the scouts returned one by one with empty-handed reports, volk''s crimson eyes narrowed. his fingers twitched under his cloak, tapping against his thigh as he weighed his options. he could feel the timer ticking in the back of his mind, each passing second a silent taunt. finally, he let out a low, sharp breath and reached into the leather pouch hanging from his belt. the worn material creaked softly as his hand brushed past dried herbs, sharpened flint, and a handful of polished black stones. his fingers closed around a tightly rolled piece of parchment. with a smooth motion, volk unfurled the map, its edges fraying from wear. the detailed contours of the mountain range stretched out before him in inked precision. rivers marked as faint blue lines cut through the jagged terrain, while peaks and cliffs rose like scars across the parchment. tiny symbols dotted key locations¡ªancient ruins, caves, narrow passes, and forgotten paths that twisted through the wilderness. volk''s eyes darted across the map, scanning it with a hunter''s intensity. the horde stood behind him, their restless murmurs a background hum, but volk tuned them out. his focus was absolute, the weight of the mission pressing on him. he crouched low, spreading the map across a flat boulder, and began to mumble to himself. "the harpy people wouldn''t stay near the lower ridges," he muttered, his voice low but firm, as if thinking aloud helped him sharpen his focus. "too exposed. not enough vertical coverage. they thrive on high ground¡ªcliffs, overhangs, places where they can swoop down with the advantage of altitude." his finger traced a path along the map, stopping at a steep ravine marked by narrow cliff lines. he shook his head. "no. too narrow. their wingspan would make it impossible to maneuver efficiently. they''d risk being trapped if someone were to corner them there." he shifted his attention to another area¡ªan open plateau surrounded by dense trees. his lips tightened as he stared at it. "no. they avoid dense tree cover. harpies prefer open skies. the canopy would hinder their flight, and they wouldn''t have a clear line of sight for aerial ambushes." the wind rustled the edges of the map, and volk pressed it flat with one hand while continuing his murmurs. his thoughts were a relentless torrent, each possibility examined and discarded. "what about here?" his finger stopped on a marked cave system at the base of a jagged peak. he squinted, his mind racing through the logistics. "it''s deep enough to provide shelter... but the entry point is too exposed. any attack on their lair would pin them inside. too risky for them. they wouldn''t make that their stronghold." he moved on, his sharp eyes landing on a cluster of towering spires farther north. the jagged shapes bristled with danger, their sharp edges resembling the talons of some ancient beast. volk''s brow furrowed. "these spires¡­ they''re high enough to give them dominance over the sky," he mused, his voice dropping even lower. "plenty of perches for roosting. open air for their maneuvers. natural barriers against ground assaults. and they''re close enough to major passes to strike travelers or invaders without venturing too far from their lair. this¡­ this could be it." he paused, his gaze lingering on the spires, then shifted to another marked location¡ªa jagged cliffside riddled with narrow ledges. "or here," he added, his voice laced with doubt. "the ledges could work as makeshift nests. the height would give them security. but it''s exposed to the wind. harpies are resilient, but constant battering from mountain gales would weaken their defenses over time." volk sighed and straightened, his eyes never leaving the map. his mind ticked through every possibility, every terrain feature that could serve as a harpy lair. his mumbling grew louder, almost as if he were arguing with himself. "not too low. not too high. not too open, but not too closed. they''d want altitude for ambushes, but they''d avoid places that are easily collapsed or cornered. they''re cunning, but cautious. this¡­" his finger tapped on another location, an overhanging cliff with multiple escape routes leading into the sky. "this might be it. but then again¡­" he traced a line between the spires and the cliffside. "if they''re mobile, they could shift between these spots. use one as a decoy while the true lair remains hidden. or they could divide their forces¡ªsome here, some there. but if they''ve consolidated, they''d pick the stronger defensible position." volk stood abruptly, folding the map with practiced ease. he turned toward his horde, who watched him with a mix of impatience and curiosity. his voice, sharp and commanding, cut through their mutterings. "we spread out," volk said, his tone brooking no argument. he stepped forward, his crimson gaze sweeping over the gathered orcs and ogres. "the harpy people could be in one of three locations. scouts, you''ll head north to the spires. stay low, stay quiet. report back the moment you find signs of activity." the scouts nodded, their faces grim as they prepared to set off. "the rest of you will form three groups," volk continued, gesturing with sharp, precise movements. "one group will sweep the ravine. search for tracks, nests, or any signs of movement. the second group will head to the cliffs. focus on the ledges¡ªcheck for fresh droppings, feathers, or disturbed rock. the final group stays with me. we''ll take the overhanging cliff." he turned to the scarred ogre who had been his de facto second-in-command. "you''ll lead the group heading to the ravine," volk said. "keep your eyes sharp and your weapons ready. harpies don''t fight fair. they''ll attack from above if they think they can catch you off guard." the ogre thumped his chest, a low grunt of acknowledgment rumbling from his throat. volk''s gaze hardened as he addressed the entire horde. "expect ambushes. expect traps. expect the unexpected. harpies are fast, vicious, and intelligent. if you see one, there are likely more waiting just out of sight. do not chase them blindly. stay in formation, stay alert, and report anything unusual immediately." the horde roared their agreement, their weapons clanging in a symphony of readiness. volk folded his arms, his crimson eyes narrowing. the map and his deductions had given them a chance¡ªa thread to follow in this deadly game. now it was up to them to find the harpy lair before time ran out. the translucent timer in his mind ticked down, relentless and cold, as the horde began to spread out into the jagged wilderness. Chapter 307 Cry as volk watched his horde spread out, their heavy boots crunching against the loose gravel and scattered rocks of the mountainside, he let out a silent breath. his hand rose to his brow, pretending to adjust his hood, but in truth, he was wiping away the thin sheen of sweat forming there. his fingers brushed over his scarred skin, cool against the heat of his concealed tension.do i really have to do this? he thought, his crimson eyes narrowing. the mission screen in his vision still loomed at the edges, the timer ticking down mercilessly. the choices he had made thus far weighed heavily on his shoulders. the lies he told the horde to keep them unified. the secrets he buried to keep them loyal. the things he had done in the dead of night to ensure their survival¡ªthings they could never know. he adjusted his cloak once more, making sure the gesture seemed natural. he couldn''t afford to show weakness. not now. not ever. "damn this mountain," he muttered under his breath, his voice too low for anyone to hear. the winds carried his words into the void as if the elements themselves conspired to drown him in silence. "damn these harpies. damn this mission system and its cursed games." as if on cue, a sharp cry broke the quiet tension. "chief!" enjoy exclusive content from empire volk turned sharply, his crimson eyes locking onto one of the scouts sprinting toward him. the orc was breathless, his broad chest heaving as he skidded to a halt, scattering dust and loose stones. the scout''s face was pale beneath his green skin, his eyes wide and wild with a mixture of excitement and fear. "what is it?" volk demanded, his tone sharp and clipped. he stepped forward, towering over the scout, his presence an unyielding wall. "report." the scout gulped down air, his voice cracking as he spoke. "i¡ªi saw it! a giant bird, chief! huge, with wings that blocked out the sun!" he stretched his arms wide as if trying to demonstrate its size. "it was perched on a rocky spire, circling a village below. looked like¡­ like some kind of harpy tribe." the horde, scattered nearby, froze at the words. their murmurs began as a ripple before growing into a wave of excited chatter. weapons clanged against armor as the warriors exchanged glances, their faces lighting up with anticipation. "a giant bird?" one of the ogres rumbled, his voice a deep growl. "could it be a harpy king? or some kind of guardian beast?" volk raised a hand, silencing the noise instantly. his crimson gaze bore into the scout. "you''re certain?" the scout nodded vigorously. "yes, chief! its feathers shone like silver in the sun. its eyes glowed red. and it was massive¡ªbigger than anything i''ve seen before! the harpies seemed to bow to it like it was some kind of god!" volk''s jaw tightened. a giant bird. a harpy tribe. a guardian, perhaps? his mind raced with possibilities. this wasn''t just a random gathering of harpies; this sounded like an organized force. a stronghold. and that bird¡­ it could be a problem. the timer ticked in his vision, an ever-present reminder of the stakes. volk straightened, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "everyone, prepare yourselves!" the command struck like thunder. the horde erupted into a flurry of motion. orcs tightened their belts, adjusted their armor, and strapped their weapons into place. ogres tested the weight of their clubs and axes, their massive forms casting long shadows against the rocky ground. the metallic symphony of blades sliding from sheaths and shields being locked into position filled the air. "check your gear!" volk barked, his voice echoing across the mountain. "sharpen your weapons! ready your bows! harpies are fast, and they won''t fight fair. expect them to come from the skies, from the shadows, from places you''d never think to look. stay vigilant!" the orcs thumped their chests in unison, a resounding clang! that echoed like a war drum. their eyes gleamed with determination as they fell into formation. volk stalked through their ranks, his crimson gaze sharp as he inspected their readiness. his voice carried over the din, issuing orders with a precision that left no room for doubt. "shield bearers, to the front! archers, i want eyes on the skies at all times. if you see even a feather, you call it out. mages, focus on area spells¡ªdon''t let them cluster together!" the horde moved with military efficiency, their actions practiced and deliberate. even the massive ogres, who were often slow to respond, followed volk''s commands with surprising speed. "keep your lines tight!" volk continued, his voice rising as he strode to the front. "do not stray. do not lose focus. harpies are predators. they''ll target the weak and the distracted. if you see one of your comrades falter, you cover them. no one fights alone!" the horde roared their agreement, the sound reverberating across the mountains. volk paused, his eyes scanning the horizon. the wind carried the faint screech of distant birds, their cries sharp and mocking. he clenched his fist, the leather of his glove creaking under the strain. he turned back to his horde, his voice dropping to a growl that carried the weight of command. "remember this: we are not just fighting harpies. we are hunting them. they think they own these skies, but they''re wrong. tonight, we take their stronghold. we take their pride. and we remind them why the horde is unstoppable!" the warriors responded with a thunderous roar, their bloodlust ignited. the anticipation of battle crackled in the air like a storm on the verge of breaking. s§×ar?h the n?vel?ire.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. volk drew his weapon, the blade gleaming like a shard of night. he raised it high, his crimson eyes blazing with intensity. "we move out," he declared, his voice a clarion call that demanded absolute obedience. the horde surged forward, their steps a unified march that shook the earth beneath them. volk turned, his gaze fixed on the distant spires where the harpy tribe awaited. a grim smile tugged at his lips. "let us hunt those biiiiirds!" the horde began their march with volk at the lead, his crimson eyes scanning the terrain like a hawk. the air was heavy with anticipation, every step echoing against the jagged cliffs and barren rock of the mountain range. at first, the path was unremarkable. the ground beneath their boots was dry and cracked, a patchwork of dirt and scattered stones. the only sound was the rhythmic clanking of armor and weapons, the occasional grunt from an ogre adjusting the weight of their massive club. volk walked in silence, his weapon sheathed but his senses on high alert. his mind churned, analyzing every detail of the landscape. the peaks above loomed like silent sentinels, their sharp edges cutting into the pale sky. thin wisps of clouds hung low, casting faint shadows across the rocky ground. yet, for all its natural beauty, the area felt¡­ empty. too empty. "there''s nothing here," grumbled one of the orcs, his voice low but audible enough to break the stillness. "keep moving," volk snapped, his tone cutting through any potential dissent. he didn''t look back, his focus locked forward. "tracks don''t always show themselves immediately. harpies are clever. they don''t leave a trail unless they want to." the horde continued, their march steady and relentless. the barren land began to change subtly. the ground grew softer, speckled with loose gravel and patches of dry grass. volk''s sharp eyes caught the faintest impressions in the dirt¡ªsmall depressions that could easily be dismissed by the untrained. he knelt, brushing his gloved fingers over the marks. "tracks," he murmured to himself. his voice was low, almost drowned out by the shuffle of the horde behind him. he rose swiftly, motioning for the group to keep moving. as they pushed forward, more signs began to appear. a few scattered feathers, dark and jagged, stuck out from the earth like forgotten relics. volk paused to pick one up, rolling it between his fingers. it was coarse and smelled faintly of sweat and blood. a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "they''re near," he muttered under his breath. the tracks grew more frequent as the horde moved deeper into the mountains. scattered bones¡ªsmall and brittle¡ªlittered the path. claw marks gouged into nearby rocks told of harpy talons gripping for purchase. volk''s hand hovered near his weapon as the tension in the air grew thicker. "there!" shouted one of the scouts, pointing toward a patch of dirt where the ground was churned up in violent patterns. volk strode forward, crouching to inspect the site. the indentations were deep and chaotic, as though a great struggle had taken place. scraps of torn fabric clung to nearby bushes, and claw marks crisscrossed the ground. he narrowed his eyes, his mind piecing together the scene. "a feeding ground," he said finally, his voice cold and calculating. he stood, brushing the dirt from his gloves. "they dragged something¡ªor someone¡ªhere. likely prey. they don''t linger long in one spot. this is fresh." the horde murmured amongst themselves, their excitement bubbling beneath the surface. volk raised a hand, silencing them with a single gesture. "stay focused," he ordered. "the tracks are getting clearer. they''re leading us somewhere." they pressed on, the signs of harpy activity growing more blatant with every step. feathers littered the ground in increasing numbers, some of them smeared with dried blood. broken branches and disturbed earth marked the passage of creatures both swift and brutal. the occasional low growl or grunt rippled through the horde as the warriors tightened their grips on their weapons. and then it came¡ªa sound that froze the entire horde in their tracks. a piercing cry shattered the stillness, reverberating through the mountains like a thunderclap. the sound was sharp and mournful, a wailing screech that seemed to come from everywhere at once. volk''s head snapped up, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scanned the skies. "what was that?" one of the ogres rumbled, his deep voice tinged with unease. "a bird," volk said tersely, though his jaw tightened as the cry echoed again. this time, it was closer, louder, more desperate. it wasn''t just any bird¡ªit was massive, its voice carrying the weight of something ancient and primal. the cry came again, a long, drawn-out wail that sent shivers through the horde. it wasn''t just a call; it was a lament, a sorrowful scream that seemed to claw at the soul. "it''s looking for something," volk muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on the horizon. his mind raced, analyzing the sound. a harpy? no. something bigger. something angrier. the horde pressed forward, their steps cautious now, every sound magnified in the oppressive quiet between the bird''s cries. the path narrowed, forcing them into single file as they wound through a jagged pass. the cries grew louder, more insistent, each one laced with frustration and grief. volk''s hand rested on the hilt of his weapon, his knuckles white beneath his gloves. his mind churned with possibilities. a guardian? a mate? a scout? why is it crying? what''s it searching for? finally, as they rounded a sharp bend, the source of the cries came into view. perched atop a massive spire of rock was a bird unlike anything volk had ever seen. it was enormous, its wings folded against its body, but even at rest, its sheer size was awe-inspiring. its feathers shimmered in the pale light, a blend of silver and charcoal that seemed to ripple like liquid metal. its talons, each the size of a man''s arm, gripped the rock with a force that made cracks spiderweb outward. the bird''s head tilted back as it let out another cry, its beak wide and sharp as a scythe. its glowing red eyes scanned the horizon, blazing with fury and sorrow. the horde froze, their collective breath catching in their throats. "there it is," volk said quietly, his voice steady but laced with an edge of grim determination. he turned to his warriors, his crimson eyes burning with command. "we''ve found our prey." Chapter 308 Strong the beast stood on the spire like a monarch surveying its kingdom. its immense wings spread halfway open, their span easily twice the height of the tallest ogre in the horde. each feather shimmered like molten silver, refracting the dim mountain light into shards of radiance that danced across the rocky terrain. its chest, broad and powerful, rose and fell with each labored breath, the metallic sheen of its feathers making it appear as though it were sculpted from living steel.its head, sharp and angular, seemed almost regal, crowned by a jagged crest of obsidian-like spikes that ran down its neck. its glowing red eyes burned with fury, scanning the horde below with an almost disdainful intelligence. the talons gripping the rocky perch dug deep grooves into the stone, each claw curved like a scimitar and dripping with a viscous, black ichor that hissed and smoked where it fell, melting the stone it touched. volk''s crimson eyes locked onto the beast, and his lips curled into a tight snarl. he felt the weight of the horde''s collective hesitation pressing against his back. he could sense their unease. this wasn''t just another foe¡ªit was a force of nature, a predator honed to perfection by centuries of dominance. but hesitation was not an option. "attack it!" volk roared, his voice slicing through the tension like a war drum. his blade shot upward, catching the light, and with that single motion, the horde sprang into action. the ground trembled as the ogres charged, their massive frames shaking loose boulders and sending debris tumbling down the mountainside. orcs followed closely behind, their battle cries echoing through the peaks as they raised their weapons. archers loosed volleys of arrows, their tips glinting like shards of sunlight as they arced toward the beast. the first arrows struck, clanging harmlessly off the creature''s metallic feathers like stones against steel. ping! ping! the sound rang out, a mocking reply to their efforts. the beast didn''t flinch. it tilted its head, those glowing red eyes narrowing as if in amusement. then it moved. enjoy exclusive content from empire with a single, thunderous beat of its wings, the creature launched itself from the spire. the gust of wind it created was like a storm, throwing the nearest orcs off their feet and sending arrows spiraling uselessly into the air. whoosh! dust and loose stones kicked up in its wake, forcing the horde to shield their eyes. "hold the line!" volk bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. he pointed his blade forward, signaling the ogres to press the attack. the beast descended like a meteor, its talons outstretched and its cry piercing the air like a blade. kreeeeeeeee! the first ogre, a massive warrior wielding a tree-sized club, swung with all his might. the club struck the beast''s side, the impact reverberating through the air with a deafening boom! but the creature barely shifted, its feathers absorbing the blow like armor. it retaliated instantly, one talon slashing across the ogre''s chest. sparks flew as claw met armor, and the massive warrior staggered back, his chestplate torn and smoldering. another ogre roared and charged, swinging an enormous axe in a wide arc. the blade connected with the beast''s wing, carving a shallow groove through the metallic feathers. the creature screeched, a sound so loud and sharp it felt like nails scraping across the soul. it whipped its head around, its beak snapping shut inches from the ogre''s face with a crack! orcs swarmed in, their smaller frames darting between the ogres to strike at the beast''s legs and underbelly. swords, spears, and daggers rained down in a flurry of attacks. clang! clang! clang! most blows glanced off, their weapons scraping uselessly against the creature''s impenetrable feathers. "focus on its wings!" volk commanded, his voice a beacon amidst the cacophony. s§×ar?h the n?vel(f)ire.¦Çet website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. the archers adjusted their aim, targeting the creature''s joints where the wings connected to its body. a few arrows found their mark, piercing the softer, thinner membranes. the beast shrieked in pain, its wings faltering for a moment as blood¡ªthick and black as tar¡ªdripped to the ground. but the creature was far from finished. it lashed out with its talons, sweeping them across the ground in a wide arc. the horde scattered, diving for cover as the claws tore through the earth, leaving deep gouges in their wake. one orc wasn''t fast enough and was sent sprawling, his shield shattered into splinters. the beast reared up, its wings spreading wide. it flapped once, the force of the wind enough to send several orcs tumbling backward. dust and debris clouded the air, obscuring the battlefield. volk moved through the chaos like a shadow, his blade flashing as he struck at the creature''s legs. his attacks were precise, aiming for the joints where the armor-like feathers thinned. sparks flew with every strike, but the beast''s movements were too quick. it twisted and snapped at him, its beak narrowly missing as he ducked and rolled out of the way. an ogre roared, charging in with a massive hammer. he brought it down with a thunderous crash! the ground trembled as the hammer struck the creature''s back, forcing it to stumble. the beast screeched in rage, its tail lashing out like a whip and catching the ogre in the side. the massive warrior was sent flying, his body crashing into a boulder with a sickening thud! "regroup!" volk shouted, his voice cutting through the din. the horde fell back, forming a tight circle around the creature. the ogres braced themselves, their weapons at the ready, while the orcs shifted into flanking positions. the archers nocked fresh arrows, their aim steady despite the tremors running through the ground. the beast hissed, its chest heaving as it glared at the assembled horde. black ichor dripped from its wounds, staining the ground beneath it. its feathers, once pristine, were now marred with gashes and streaks of blood. yet, for all their efforts, the beast stood tall, defiant, and unbroken. "it''s strong," one of the ogres muttered, his voice a low growl. his massive hands gripped his weapon tightly, the veins in his arms bulging with the effort. "but not unbeatable," volk said, his voice firm. his crimson eyes burned with determination as he raised his blade once more. "we''re wearing it down. stay together. stay focused. we''ll take it down¡ªpiece by piece if we have to." the horde roared in unison, their resolve unshaken despite the monster''s overwhelming power. they tightened their formation, preparing for the next wave. the beast, sensing the renewed determination of its foes, spread its wings once more, its glowing red eyes narrowing. it let out a final, ear-splitting kreeeeeeee! before launching itself back into the fray. ¡­ the cacophony of battle surrounded volk, yet he stood apart from the chaos, his crimson eyes locked onto the beast. his horde fought valiantly, their roars and cries mingling with the screeches of the monstrous bird. the ground shook beneath their relentless attacks, but volk was not there to simply join the fray. he had a different role¡ªa purpose far more critical. his sharp gaze studied the creature with an intensity that bordered on predatory. the beast was majestic in its terror, its massive wings beating the air in powerful bursts that sent gusts of wind ripping through the battlefield. each flap scattered dust and debris, obscuring vision and throwing off the horde''s coordinated strikes. the metallic sheen of its feathers caught the light, their surfaces appearing almost impervious to damage. it moved with a combination of raw power and grace, each motion a calculated strike that sent ogres and orcs sprawling. volk''s mind raced as he analyzed its every move. those feathers¡­ they''re not just armor, are they? they''re absorbing impact, deflecting blows. his eyes narrowed as he watched an ogre''s hammer glance off the creature''s flank, the sound of the impact ringing out like steel against stone. it''s like the feathers are alive, reacting to each strike to minimize damage. he observed the way its talons gripped the earth, gouging deep trenches into the rocky ground. they weren''t just weapons; they were anchors, stabilizing the beast even against the combined assault of his horde. it''s using the terrain to its advantage, volk thought, his sharp mind piecing together the creature''s tactics. every motion is deliberate. it''s not just fighting¡ªit''s outthinking us. his gaze shifted to its head, where the jagged crest of obsidian-like spikes gleamed menacingly. the spikes seemed almost ornamental at first glance, but the way they flared when the beast screeched suggested otherwise. a defense mechanism? or maybe¡­ a signal? volk wondered, his brow furrowing. as he watched, the creature let out another ear-splitting cry, its glowing red eyes narrowing as it scanned the battlefield. the sound seemed to invigorate the beast, as though it drew strength from its own voice. the horde faltered briefly, their movements slowing under the oppressive weight of the sound. volk gritted his teeth, his ears ringing from the piercing wail. that cry isn''t just a call¡ªit''s a weapon. he shifted his focus to the beast''s movements, the way its massive wings folded and unfolded with mechanical precision. the wings weren''t just tools for flight¡ªthey were shields, battering rams, and blades all at once. when an orc charged from the side, the beast pivoted, one wing snapping outward with a whump! the edge of the wing struck the orc like a greatsword, sending him flying across the battlefield. volk''s eyes narrowed further, his mind calculating. the wings are its greatest weapon. but they''re also its greatest liability. they''re massive, cumbersome¡­ and vulnerable at the joints. his gaze traveled downward, to the creature''s legs. thick and muscular, they ended in talons that dripped with black ichor. each step the beast took left smoldering imprints in the ground, the acidic liquid eating away at the stone. but as volk watched, he noticed something peculiar: the beast''s movements were deliberate but not fluid. there was a stiffness in its stride, as though it favored one leg over the other. he studied the leg more closely, his sharp eyes catching the faintest hint of discoloration beneath the layers of feathers. a faint scar ran along the joint, its surface raw and uneven. an old injury, volk realized, his lips curving into a sly smirk. that''s why it''s relying so heavily on its wings. it''s compensating for a weakness in its leg. but there was more. volk''s eyes darted to the creature''s underbelly, where the feathers thinned slightly, revealing patches of exposed skin. he observed how it kept that part of its body shielded, turning its side toward the attackers and keeping its vulnerable underside out of reach. it knows its weaknesses and is guarding them well, he thought, his admiration for the beast growing despite himself. as the battle raged on, volk began to notice patterns in the creature''s movements. when the horde pressed too close, it would rear back, spreading its wings wide to create a buffer. when they tried to attack from range, it used its cry to disrupt their focus and scatter their formations. its strategy was as sharp as its talons, its instincts honed by countless battles. volk''s mind worked tirelessly, cataloging every detail, every motion, every reaction. the wings are armored. the talons are acidic. the cry disrupts coordination. but it''s not invincible. he replayed the creature''s movements in his head, dissecting each action with surgical precision. the old injury slows it down. the underbelly is soft. the wings can''t shield everything at once. suddenly, his crimson eyes widened. his breath hitched as the pieces of the puzzle snapped into place. the wings¡ªthey''re the key. he watched as the beast lashed out with a powerful flap, sending another wave of orcs sprawling. for all their strength and versatility, the wings were massive, unwieldy. when fully extended, they left the creature exposed at the joints and along its underbelly. volk''s lips curled into a feral grin, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. he clenched his fist, the excitement coursing through him like a storm. the creature was strong¡ªimmensely so¡ªbut it wasn''t invincible. it had a weakness, and now volk saw it clearly. he straightened, his blade gleaming as he raised it high. the battlefield seemed to slow around him, the cacophony of battle fading into the background. his voice rang out, cutting through the chaos like a blade. "prepare yourselves! i''ve found its weakness!" Chapter 309 Renewed volk''s voice thundered over the chaos, clear and commanding despite the raging battle. his blade caught the dim light as he pointed toward the massive bird''s wings and legs. "focus your attacks on its joints and underbelly! bring it down!"the horde erupted into action, their ranks tightening and their movements sharpening with purpose. the ogres roared, their voices like rolling thunder, and charged with renewed vigor. each of them swung their massive weapons with deadly intent, aiming for the joints of the creature''s wings. orcs surged forward, spears and axes at the ready, targeting the softer flesh of the beast''s exposed underbelly. but the beast was far from defenseless. as if sensing its peril, the bird unleashed a deafening cry that echoed through the peaks. kreeeeeeeee! the sound rippled through the battlefield like a shockwave, causing the horde to falter momentarily. some clutched their ears in pain, their weapons wavering as the sound assaulted their senses. volk pressed forward, cutting through the confusion with his blade and his voice. "hold your ground! push through it!" his crimson eyes burned with determination as he advanced, his every step deliberate. the beast reacted violently. it reared back, its wings unfurling with a powerful whoosh that sent gusts of wind tearing through the air. dust and debris swirled around the battlefield, blinding some of the horde and forcing them to shield their faces. with a sharp beat of its wings, the bird leaped into the air, its talons slicing through the ground where the front line had stood moments before. ogres swung their weapons upward, trying to catch the beast mid-air, but the creature was too quick. it swooped low, its talons raking across the battlefield. slash! the sound of claws tearing through armor and shields filled the air as orcs scrambled to evade the deadly strikes. one ogre managed to block a talon with his massive hammer, but the force of the blow sent him staggering backward, his feet dragging deep grooves into the earth. archers loosed volley after volley, their arrows whistling through the air. most glanced off the creature''s metallic feathers with a sharp ping! a few found their mark, embedding themselves in the thinner membranes of its wings. black ichor dripped from the wounds, hissing as it hit the ground. the bird shrieked in fury, the sound reverberating through the canyon. its red eyes blazed like twin suns, filled with a rage that seemed to fuel its every movement. it lashed out with its wings, the sharp edges slicing through the air like blades. one wing struck a group of orcs, sending them sprawling across the rocky terrain. another wing caught an ogre in the side, the impact so forceful that his armor dented inward with a resounding crunch! despite its ferocity, the horde pressed on. "don''t let it escape!" volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. he raised his blade high, his crimson eyes fixed on the creature''s weakened leg. "target its leg! bring it to the ground!" ogres charged once more, their massive frames crashing against the bird''s side like battering rams. one swung a colossal axe at the creature''s injured leg. the blade bit deep into the joint with a sickening chunk! the bird screeched in agony, its talons scrabbling for purchase as it staggered. the orcs seized the opportunity, swarming the beast''s underbelly. spears and axes struck at the exposed flesh, tearing through the thinner layers of protection. black ichor sprayed across the battlefield, the stench of it burning their nostrils. but the bird fought back with relentless fury. it lashed out with its talons, sweeping them across the ground in wide arcs. one orc was caught mid-stride, his shield shattered with a crack! as he was thrown backward. another ogre swung his hammer, but the bird twisted, its massive beak snapping shut inches from his face with a bone-rattling snap! the beast flapped its wings violently, the gusts knocking several attackers off their feet. it tried to take flight again, its injured leg trembling under its weight. but the horde was relentless. "archers!" volk barked. "pin down its wings!" the archers adjusted their aim, targeting the joints of the creature''s wings. arrows streaked through the air, their tips glinting like silver as they found their marks. the beast screamed as more arrows pierced its wings, pinning them to the rocky terrain. it thrashed wildly, the ground trembling beneath its massive frame. volk pushed forward, his blade flashing as he struck at the creature''s leg. his strikes were precise, each one chipping away at the weakened joint. the beast roared in pain, its movements growing increasingly frantic. the horde closed in, their attacks coordinated and unrelenting. the ogres swung their weapons with devastating force, targeting the creature''s leg and underbelly. orcs swarmed over the beast, their blades cutting deep into its flesh. the archers continued their assault, their arrows raining down like a storm. the bird fought with everything it had. its talons tore through the ranks, its wings lashed out, and its cries shook the air. but its strength was waning. the injuries to its leg and wings left it vulnerable, and the relentless assault of the horde was taking its toll. finally, after what felt like an eternity, the beast let out a guttural, haunting howl. hoooouuuuuuuuu! the sound echoed through the mountains, a mournful cry that sent a chill down the spines of even the most hardened warriors. its massive frame trembled, its legs buckling as it collapsed onto the rocky ground. volk lowered his blade, his chest heaving as he surveyed the scene. the beast lay before them, its once-majestic form battered and bloodied. the horde stood victorious, their weapons slick with black ichor, their bodies battered but unbroken. for a moment, silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the labored breathing of the warriors and the faint, pained moans of the defeated bird. then, volk straightened, his crimson eyes gleaming with triumph. "the beast falls," he said, his voice low but firm. "prepare yourselves. the real battle begins now." the horde barely had time to savor their victory. the massive bird, broken and bloodied, lay still on the rocky terrain. its labored breathing filled the air, mingling with the heavy panting of the warriors. volk''s crimson eyes remained fixed on the beast, his instincts tingling with unease. something wasn''t right. "hold your positions!" volk commanded, his voice cutting through the murmurs of triumph. the horde hesitated but obeyed, their weapons still in hand. then, it happened. the beast''s massive body twitched, a subtle movement at first¡ªa faint ripple across its battered feathers. but it quickly grew more pronounced. its talons scraped against the ground, claws digging deep furrows into the rocky soil. the creature''s head lifted slowly, its glowing red eyes narrowing with renewed focus. volk''s grip on his blade tightened. "back! fall back!" he roared, stepping in front of his horde. before anyone could react, the bird let out a low, guttural growl. its wings, tattered and pinned by arrows, began to quiver. the beast hauled itself upright, its injured leg trembling under its weight. with a pained but determined screech, it began to drag itself toward a small cave carved into the side of the mountain. "what is it doing?" one of the orcs muttered, his voice laced with unease. volk''s eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze tracking the creature''s movements. "stay alert!" he barked. "do not lower your guard!" the horde followed cautiously, their weapons raised as they watched the beast crawl toward the cave. its massive frame cast an ominous shadow over the entrance, the jagged rocks framing it like the maw of some ancient beast. volk''s instincts screamed at him to stop the bird, to finish it before it reached the cave. but something held him back¡ªa dark curiosity, a need to understand what was driving the creature. he motioned for the horde to hold their position, advancing alone toward the edge of the cave''s entrance. the air inside the cave was thick, damp, and heavy with the stench of decay. volk''s sharp eyes scanned the dim interior, his vision adjusting quickly to the shadows. what he saw sent a chill racing down his spine. scattered across the cave floor were the remains of numerous creatures¡ªbones, scraps of flesh, and broken weapons. in the center of the carnage stood a small, humanoid figure, its green skin glistening with sweat and its wide, terrified eyes locked on the approaching bird. "a goblin," volk muttered under his breath. the goblin let out a panicked squeal, its tiny hands clutching a rusted dagger as it tried to back away. but the bird was relentless. it lunged forward with surprising speed, its massive beak snapping shut around the goblin''s frail body. crunch! the sound of bones breaking echoed through the cave as the creature swallowed its prey whole. stay updated through empire outside, the horde watched in horrified silence as the beast''s form began to change. the bird''s tattered feathers shimmered faintly, their metallic sheen growing brighter. its injured leg straightened, the deep gashes along its joints knitting themselves together as if by magic. black ichor seeped from its wounds, sizzling as it hit the ground and dissipating like steam. volk''s eyes widened in shock. "it''s¡­ regenerating." sear?h the n?vel?ire.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. the bird let out another ear-splitting cry, this one sharper and louder than before. kreeeeeeeee! the sound reverberated through the mountains, shaking loose stones from the cliffs and causing the ground to tremble beneath the horde''s feet. the beast''s eyes glowed brighter, burning with a fiery intensity that sent shivers down volk''s spine. its wings spread wide, no longer tattered but fully restored, their edges gleaming like polished steel. the bird threw its head back and let out a guttural howl, a sound filled with both pain and rage, and yet beneath it lay something else¡ªpower. volk''s grip on his blade tightened. his voice, calm but laced with urgency, carried over the rising tension. "prepare yourselves. this isn''t over." Chapter 310 Second Round the air grew heavy as the monstrous bird stretched its rejuvenated wings. it towered above the horde, its already colossal form now even larger. its metallic feathers gleamed with an eerie brilliance, and the sheer size of its shadow seemed to engulf the warriors entirely. the ground trembled under its shifting weight as it stepped forward, its talons digging deep into the earth.volk tightened his grip on his blade, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scanned the creature. this wasn''t the same beast they had nearly defeated. it was larger, faster, and emanated a palpable aura of malice. "stay together!" volk bellowed, his voice carrying over the sound of the creature''s wings beating once more. "we face it again! form ranks!" the horde moved swiftly, their fear suppressed by discipline honed in countless battles. ogres hefted their massive weapons, standing at the forefront as the first line of defense. orcs tightened their grip on spears and axes, their eyes flickering between the beast and their leader. the archers notched arrows, their fingers trembling slightly as they pulled the strings taut. then, without warning, the bird lunged forward. thud! crash! its massive talons slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave rippling through the battlefield. the horde staggered but held their ground. "attack!" volk roared, charging forward with a burst of speed. his blade gleamed in the dim light as he led the assault, slicing through the air toward the creature''s exposed leg. the ogres surged behind him, their war cries echoing like thunder. boom! clang! massive hammers and axes crashed against the bird''s legs and wings. the metallic clang of their weapons striking the beast''s armor-like feathers echoed across the canyon. but this time, the bird retaliated with ferocity. its wings swept outward, creating gusts of wind so strong they sent orcs flying backward. whoosh! thump! bodies hit the ground hard, some skidding across the dirt as they scrambled to regain their footing. an ogre swung his hammer in a wide arc, aiming for the bird''s knee. the weapon connected with a deafening crack! but the beast barely flinched. instead, it reared back and lashed out with its talons. squelch! one talon tore through the ogre''s shoulder, sending blood spraying into the air. the massive warrior staggered, his hammer slipping from his grasp as he fell to one knee. the archers loosed another volley of arrows, their projectiles whistling through the air. thwip! thwip! the arrows struck the bird''s wings, but most bounced off harmlessly. only a few embedded themselves in the thinner, membranous sections of its wings, drawing black ichor that hissed as it hit the ground. volk darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a sweeping talon. his eyes darted over the beast''s form, searching for the weaknesses he''d identified before. but its movements were faster now, its strikes more precise. the weak points they had exploited earlier were harder to reach, buried under layers of glowing, regenerated flesh. "regroup!" volk shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. "ogres, focus on its legs! archers, aim for the joints in its wings! orcs, keep it distracted!" the horde adjusted their tactics, moving with renewed coordination. ogres swung their massive weapons with brutal force, their strikes aimed at the bird''s legs. orcs swarmed around the creature, their movements quick and agile as they slashed at its sides and underbelly. but the bird was relentless. kreeeeeeeee! it let out a piercing cry, its sound vibrating through the air and into their very bones. the warriors faltered, some dropping their weapons to clutch their ears. the bird took advantage of their momentary weakness, its massive beak snapping down toward a group of orcs. snap! the ground shook as the bird''s beak slammed into the dirt, narrowly missing its targets. volk seized the opening, darting forward with his blade. his sword flashed as he aimed for the bird''s knee joint, driving the weapon deep into the exposed flesh. slash! black ichor sprayed from the wound, splattering across volk''s armor and face. the bird screeched in pain, its injured leg buckling slightly. but instead of collapsing, it reared back and spread its wings wide. with a powerful whoosh!, it beat its wings, creating a windstorm that sent warriors flying in all directions. volk was thrown off his feet, landing hard on his back. thud! the impact rattled his bones, but he rolled quickly to his feet, his blade still in hand. he scanned the battlefield, his mind racing. the horde was struggling. the ogres were being pushed back, their massive frames no match for the bird''s newfound strength. orcs were scattered, their attacks unable to penetrate the beast''s reinforced defenses. the archers were running out of arrows, their quivers nearly empty. volk''s jaw tightened. he had fought countless battles, faced enemies far stronger than this beast. but something about this fight felt¡­ different. the bird''s regeneration, its increased size and speed¡ªit defied logic. "leader!" one of the ogres shouted, his voice desperate. "we can''t hold it much longer!" volk''s eyes narrowed. he gripped his blade tighter, his mind working furiously to find a solution. but no matter how he analyzed the situation, one question lingered in his mind. why was the bird growing stronger? the creature let out another deafening cry, its body glowing faintly as it lashed out with renewed vigor. the horde fought valiantly, their attacks relentless, but they were being overwhelmed. volk''s crimson eyes locked onto the beast''s form, scanning it for any signs of weakness. then, something caught his attention¡ªa faint glow emanating from the bird''s chest, pulsing in time with its movements. his eyes widened. could that be its core? before he could act, the bird let out a guttural howl, louder and more powerful than before. krrrrrraaaaaaaaahhhhhh! the sound reverberated through the canyon, shaking loose stones from the cliffs and causing the ground to tremble. volk stumbled, his vision swimming as the sound rattled his mind. he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. but as he steadied himself, a new thought crept into his mind¡ªone that filled him with unease. why did it feel like the bird was fighting with purpose? why did it feel¡­ like it was toying with them? the bird''s glowing eyes locked onto volk, and for a brief moment, it felt as though the creature was looking directly into his soul. volk''s eyes snapped to the hulking forms of the ogres amidst the chaos. their immense strength, which had been barely holding the bird at bay, was now the key to turning the tide. his mind worked rapidly, formulating a strategy that could exploit their brute power. "ogres!" volk''s voice boomed across the battlefield, cutting through the screeches of the beast and the clamor of battle. his commanding tone was sharp, urgent, brooking no argument. "use the stones! anything large enough to crush its wings¡ªthrow them! now!" the ogres exchanged quick glances, their eyes narrowing with understanding. one of them, a massive brute named goruk, let out a guttural growl. "we hear you, leader!" he rumbled. his massive hands reached for a jagged boulder nearby, hefting it as if it weighed nothing. the other ogres followed suit, their massive frames lumbering toward the scattered debris of the battlefield. some grabbed loose boulders, while others tore chunks of stone straight from the mountainside, their raw strength sending fissures spidering across the rocky surface. "keep it distracted!" volk barked at the orcs and archers. "don''t let it focus on them!" the horde sprang into action, their weapons striking the bird''s legs, wings, and underbelly in a relentless assault. clang! clash! axes and swords rang against the metallic sheen of its feathers, keeping the beast''s attention divided. enjoy exclusive adventures from empire the first boulder flew through the air with a thunderous whoosh! goruk''s mighty throw sent it hurtling toward the bird''s torso. crash! the rock collided with the beast''s chest, eliciting a pained screech. the bird recoiled, flapping its wings violently in an attempt to steady itself. but the ogres were relentless. another boulder followed, this one aimed at the bird''s right wing. thud! the impact sent feathers flying, and the beast staggered. it screeched in defiance, its glowing eyes narrowing as it spread its wings wide. volk''s sharp gaze tracked its every movement. the beast''s resistance was fierce, but he could see the subtle shifts in its posture¡ªthe way its once-fluid movements were growing sluggish, the faint tremble in its legs as it struggled to maintain balance. "again!" volk roared, his voice cutting through the cacophony. "don''t stop until it falls!" the ogres redoubled their efforts. wham! crash! boulder after boulder rained down on the giant bird, each one striking with bone-shaking force. the ground beneath their feet trembled with every impact, cracks splintering across the rocky terrain. at first, the bird seemed unyielding. its screeches grew louder, more defiant, as it lashed out with its talons and wings. one massive claw swiped at an ogre, narrowly missing as the brute ducked and rolled to the side. whoosh! the sheer force of the strike sent a gust of wind rippling across the battlefield. but the relentless assault began to take its toll. the bird''s movements grew jerky, its once-mighty wings faltering as the weight of the attacks bore down on it. thud! another boulder struck its left leg, causing the creature to buckle slightly. black ichor seeped from multiple wounds, hissing and steaming as it hit the ground. "leader, it''s weakening!" goruk shouted, his voice booming with grim determination. s§×ar?h the novel(f~)ire.net website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. volk''s eyes remained locked on the beast. "keep pushing!" he ordered, his tone sharp. "break its spirit! show it no mercy!" the ogres roared in unison, their voices echoing through the canyon as they continued their assault. the bird''s cries of defiance began to shift, the sharp notes of anger giving way to something else¡ªpain. crash! a particularly large boulder struck the bird''s back, forcing it to the ground. its massive frame heaved with labored breaths, its wings trembling as it struggled to rise. but the ogres didn''t relent. they pressed their advantage, their massive hands hurling stone after stone at the wounded beast. the bird let out a final, heart-wrenching cry, its voice filled with anguish as its body collapsed under the relentless barrage. kreeeeeeeeh! the sound echoed through the canyon, fading into a haunting silence as the beast''s head hit the ground with a resounding thud. for a moment, the battlefield was still. the horde stood frozen, their weapons lowered as they watched the massive creature''s body lie motionless before them. its glowing eyes dimmed, the fiery light extinguished as its chest rose and fell with slow, shallow breaths. volk remained rooted in place, his crimson eyes locked on the fallen beast. his hand gripped his sword tightly, his knuckles white with tension. despite its apparent defeat, he didn''t move closer. finally, the massive bird let out a faint, pitiful groan before falling completely still. the tension in volk''s shoulders eased slightly, though his sharp gaze remained wary. "hold," he commanded, his voice steady but low. "stay alert. this thing has surprised us before." the horde remained on edge, their breaths heavy as they waited for any sign of movement. but the bird lay still, its once-mighty form reduced to a battered, lifeless heap. volk stepped forward slowly, his blade gleaming in the dim light. his eyes narrowed as he approached the beast, his sharp instincts scanning for any sign of life. he paused a few feet away, his expression unreadable as he studied its massive frame. and then, without warning, he looked up, his mind racing with a question he couldn''t yet answer. why had this creature fought so fiercely? what had driven it to such lengths, even in the face of overwhelming odds? but for now, the battle was over. and the horde''s leader, ever watchful, remained ready for whatever came next. Chapter 311 Reward: Goblins as the colossal bird''s lifeless body lay sprawled across the battlefield, the heavy silence that followed its defeat was broken by a soft ding. volk''s crimson eyes flicked upward as a translucent screen materialized before him, its glowing letters floating mid-air.congratulations! you have defeated the titan harpy guardian! the words felt almost mocking, their sterile cheer contrasting sharply with the brutal battle that had just unfolded. volk''s eyes narrowed as he scanned the rest of the notification. rewards unlocked: - aerial assault goblins (50 units) a muscle in his jaw twitched. goblins? he thought. the horde had endured a harrowing fight, losing blood and sweat against a towering beast, and this was their reward? he quelled the surge of irritation that rose in his chest. for now, he needed to focus. the notification vanished as volk turned back to his horde. the ogres and orcs were spread out across the battlefield, panting heavily, their weapons slick with the bird''s strange, black ichor. despite their exhaustion, they stood tall, waiting for their leader''s next command. "what now, leader?" an orc called out, his voice hoarse but steady. his question rippled through the group, their gazes locking onto volk with anticipation. volk sheathed his blade in one smooth motion, his eyes scanning the rocky terrain. "there are goblins in this area," he said, his voice firm, brooking no doubt. "they are part of our reward for slaying this beast. we will find them." "but where are they?" another orc grumbled, glancing nervously at the bird''s carcass. "we''ve seen no sign of them." "search the area," volk ordered sharply. his voice cut through the murmurs of uncertainty. "goblins are resourceful creatures. they may be hiding. spread out and look. and remember¡ªdo not harm them. they are ours now. bring any you find back to me." the horde grunted their acknowledgment, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as they moved into action. ogres lumbered toward the jagged cliffs, their heavy steps leaving deep impressions in the dirt. orcs fanned out across the battlefield, their keen eyes scanning the rocky crevices and shadowy alcoves. volk remained where he was, his gaze following his warriors as they dispersed. his sharp mind churned with possibilities. where would goblins hide in a place like this? --- the search began in earnest. an ogre named goruk led his group to the edge of a narrow ravine. the steep drop was lined with jagged rocks, and the faint sound of trickling water echoed from below. "check the crevices," goruk rumbled, gesturing to the narrow ledges along the ravine''s walls. the orcs in his group obeyed without question, leaning precariously over the edge to peer into the shadows. one of them, a wiry female named kraa, squinted at a dark recess just below the lip of the ravine. "there''s something here," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the wind. she reached down cautiously, her fingers brushing against the rough stone. but as her hand probed deeper, she found nothing but empty air. with a frustrated growl, she pulled back and shook her head. "false lead," she spat. goruk grunted in acknowledgment, his heavy brow furrowing. "keep looking," he said, his tone grim. --- elsewhere, a group of orcs combed through the rocky outcroppings near the battlefield. their sharp eyes scanned every shadow, their hands prying apart loose rocks and shifting piles of debris. "anything?" one of them asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "nothing," another replied, shaking his head. he kicked a small rock aside, his frustration evident in the sharpness of his movements. "goblins don''t just vanish," the first orc muttered, his eyes narrowing as he looked around. "they must be here somewhere." --- the hours dragged on, and the sun began to dip lower in the sky. the horde regrouped near volk, their expressions a mixture of frustration and fatigue. "leader," goruk rumbled, his deep voice filled with resignation. "we''ve searched everywhere. there''s no sign of goblins." the orcs echoed his sentiment, their voices a cacophony of frustration. volk''s crimson eyes burned as he looked out over the battlefield. his warriors'' reports were consistent¡ªdespite their exhaustive search, they had found nothing. but volk refused to believe it. the notification had been clear. the goblins were here. "there should be goblins here," he said, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the crowd''s murmurs. "keep searching!" his words carried an edge of finality, and though the horde hesitated, they obeyed. with grunts of acknowledgment, they fanned out once more, their movements slower now, weighed down by fatigue. volk remained where he was, his gaze fixed on the ground. his mind churned with frustration and doubt. could the system be wrong? no. it never is. just as the weight of uncertainty threatened to settle over him, a faint sound reached his ears. sniffle¡­ hic¡­ sniffle. volk''s sharp hearing caught the weak, pitiful cries. he froze, his crimson eyes narrowing as he focused on the sound. it was faint, almost imperceptible amidst the rustling wind and distant echoes of the horde''s search. but it was there. he turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto the direction of the sound. it was coming from near the rocky crevice where the giant bird had emerged earlier. without a word, volk moved. his steps were silent but purposeful as he approached the area, his heart pounding in his chest. the faint cries grew louder as he drew closer, each sniffle and whimper pulling him forward like a thread. he stopped just short of the crevice, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the shadows. the cries were coming from within. volk''s jaw tightened. he gripped the hilt of his sword, his sharp instincts telling him to remain cautious. and yet, something about the sound¡ªso weak, so helpless¡ªmade him hesitate. he stepped closer, his crimson eyes scanning the darkness. the faint cries continued, growing softer now, as if whatever was making them had sensed his presence. volk took a deep breath, steeling himself. and then, without hesitation, he stepped into the crevice, the shadows swallowing him whole. he descended further into the narrow crevice, his heavy boots crunching against the loose gravel underfoot. the weak cries guided him like a haunting melody, growing louder yet still faint, echoing off the cold, damp stone walls. the air grew cooler as he moved deeper, the faint smell of earth and decay wafting into his nostrils. his crimson eyes, sharp and piercing in battle, were of little use here in the overwhelming darkness. shadows crowded in on all sides, the faint light from above barely penetrating this forgotten place. the cries continued, fragile and pitiful, tugging at something deep within him. volk stopped in his tracks, his hand brushing against the rough stone wall for balance. he strained his ears to pinpoint the sound, but the echo distorted its location. his sharp mind raced. what''s down here? could it really be goblins? or something worse? volk straightened, his imposing frame taking up much of the confined space. with a low growl of frustration, he called out, his voice deep and commanding, reverberating through the narrow cavern. stay connected through empire "horde! bring me torches!" his voice traveled up the crevice, reaching the horde above. after a moment of muffled voices and hurried footsteps, a few orcs appeared at the edge of the opening, peering down into the darkness. "leader?" one of them called. "are you alright?" "i said torches," volk barked, his tone brooking no delay. "i need light down here. now!" the orcs exchanged a quick glance, then rushed off to gather what he''d demanded. moments later, one of them reappeared, carefully lowering a lit torch into the crevice using a makeshift rope of leather straps. the flickering flame illuminated the narrow walls, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to shift and writhe like phantoms. volk grabbed the torch and held it high, the warmth and light pushing back the oppressive darkness. the faint cries came again, this time clearer, leading him further into the depths. he stepped cautiously, his movements deliberate as he scanned the dimly lit space. the light from the torch revealed jagged rocks and patches of dried moss clinging to the damp walls. the floor was uneven, scattered with small bones and scraps of unidentifiable refuse. and then, he saw them. huddled in the far corner of a shallow alcove were goblins. their small, wiry forms were curled in on themselves, pressed tightly together as though trying to disappear into the stone. their skin, a sickly green, was marred with cuts and bruises, and their bony limbs trembled visibly even in the low light. they looked emaciated, their ribs stark against their thin frames. volk''s crimson eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. there were five of them, no more than scraps of life, their wide, glowing eyes staring back at him with a mixture of fear and desperation. one of them¡ªa youngling, by the looks of it¡ªlet out another weak cry, its voice cracking. the sound was pitiful, almost unbearable. the goblins recoiled as volk stepped closer, their small hands covering their faces or clutching at each other. they pressed themselves further into the corner, as if trying to meld with the cold stone to escape his towering presence. volk stopped a few feet away, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow over the trembling group. he crouched slightly, lowering the torch so its light bathed the goblins more clearly. they flinched, their fear palpable in the tense air. for a long moment, he said nothing, his sharp gaze assessing them. so this is what''s left of the so-called reward, he thought bitterly. their pitiful state stirred a mixture of emotions within him¡ªdisgust, pity, and a simmering anger. it wasn''t directed at them, but at the creature that had done this to them. the realization came to him like a thunderclap. the bird. his crimson eyes darkened as the pieces fell into place. these goblins had been prey. the giant bird hadn''t just been a guardian¡ªit had been a predator, using this dark, forgotten space as its larder. these goblins had been nothing more than food, waiting to be consumed. "by the gods¡­" he muttered under his breath. the torchlight flickered as his grip tightened on its handle. one of the goblins whimpered, drawing his attention back to them. their fear was like a physical weight pressing against him, their trembling forms so fragile they seemed on the verge of breaking. volk took a deep breath, steadying himself. he couldn''t let his anger show¡ªnot now. he straightened, towering over the goblins but keeping his movements slow and deliberate. his deep voice, usually commanding and sharp, softened slightly as he addressed them. "you don''t have to be afraid," he said, his tone steady but not unkind. the goblins didn''t respond, their wide eyes darting between him and the torch. volk knelt, setting the torch on the ground beside him so its light was less harsh. he rested his forearm on his knee, lowering himself to their level without coming too close. "the bird is dead," he said firmly. "it can''t hurt you anymore." the goblins exchanged wary glances, their movements hesitant and small. one of them¡ªa slightly larger one that seemed to act as their leader¡ªlifted its head just enough to peer at him. its glowing yellow eyes were filled with suspicion and a flicker of hope. "i killed it," volk continued, his voice resolute. "it won''t hurt you again. none of them will." the larger goblin blinked, its trembling slowing slightly as it processed his words. the others remained huddled, their fear deeply ingrained. volk shifted slightly, ensuring he wasn''t blocking their only escape route. "you''ve been through enough," he said, his voice low and even. "but you''re safe now. you have my word." the larger goblin hesitated, then took a tentative step forward. its movements were slow, cautious, as though expecting volk to lash out. but volk remained still, his sharp gaze unwavering but not hostile. "i don''t want to hurt you," he said simply. "i want to help you." the larger goblin stopped a few paces away, its bony hands clutching at its sides. its glowing eyes searched volk''s face for any sign of deceit. volk held its gaze, his expression steady and serious. slowly, the goblin nodded, a tiny, tentative gesture that seemed to signal its acceptance. the others began to stir, their wide eyes flickering with something other than fear. one by one, they moved closer, their small forms huddling together as they cautiously approached him. volk didn''t move, allowing them to come to him at their own pace. the torchlight danced across their battered faces, highlighting their gaunt features and the scars that marked their skin. they were pitiful to look at, their suffering etched into every line of their bodies. when they finally reached him, the larger goblin spoke, its voice weak and raspy. "you¡­ you killed the bird?" volk nodded once, his expression firm. "yes." the goblin swallowed hard, its thin frame shaking as it whispered, "thank you." volk didn''t reply immediately. instead, he reached out slowly, his massive hand open and unthreatening. the larger goblin hesitated, then placed its tiny, trembling hand in his. "you''re with me now," volk said, his voice carrying a weight of finality. "no one will hurt you again." the goblins nodded, their movements small but filled with a fragile hope. for the first time, volk saw a glimmer of trust in their eyes. as the flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the walls, volk stood, his towering frame a shield against the darkness. his crimson eyes flicked toward the spot where the bird had emerged earlier, a grim determination settling over his features. "stay close," he said, his voice steady. sea??h th§× nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. and with that, he turned, leading the way back toward the small cave where the giant bird''s reign had begun. Chapter 312 Interview Volk crouched low, his imposing frame balanced delicately to avoid intimidating the small creatures. The goblins¡ªif they could even be called that in their current state¡ªremained huddled together, their wiry forms still trembling. Their wide, glowing eyes flicked to him nervously as he knelt before them, his crimson gaze sharp yet unusually patient. He rested his forearm casually on one knee, his other hand holding the torch aloft to keep the faint, flickering light steady. The shadows danced across the jagged walls of the small cave, giving the scene an eerie but oddly intimate atmosphere. "You," Volk said, his deep voice cutting through the tense silence. He pointed to the larger goblin, the one who had shown the most courage by stepping forward earlier. "Tell me. How did you survive down here?" The goblin flinched at first, shrinking back slightly before steeling itself. It glanced nervously at its companions, then hesitated, its bony hands fidgeting in front of its thin chest. Volk tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening just enough to encourage the creature to speak. "I¡­ We¡­ lived here," the goblin stammered, its voice barely more than a whisper. "Deep under¡­ away from the light." Volk narrowed his eyes. "Away from the light? Why?" The goblin hesitated again, its yellow eyes darting toward the others as though seeking their approval. When none of them moved to stop it, the creature continued, its voice quivering but growing steadier as it spoke. "It¡­ it hurts," the goblin admitted, its words slow and deliberate. "The bright¡­ burns our skin. We can''t stay in it. Too much¡­ and we¡ª" Another goblin, a smaller one with wide, fearful eyes, whimpered softly and buried its face in its thin arms. The larger goblin paused, its expression grim. "We get weak," it finished, glancing back at Volk. "The dark is¡­ safe." Volk listened intently, his sharp mind absorbing every word. He nodded slightly, urging the goblin to continue. "We hide," the larger goblin said, its trembling hands gesturing vaguely toward the cavern walls. "In holes, under stones. Always close to food." "Food?" Volk repeated, his voice calm but probing. "What food?" The goblin hesitated again, its thin frame shaking slightly under the weight of his gaze. After a moment, it pointed toward the scattered refuse on the cave floor¡ªbones, scraps of unidentifiable material, and what looked like remnants of small animals. "Rats," it said quietly. "Bugs. Sometimes¡­ mushrooms. When we''re lucky." One of the smaller goblins whimpered again, and Volk''s gaze shifted toward it. The creature shrank back under his scrutiny, clutching its bony knees to its chest. "Keep going," Volk said, returning his attention to the larger goblin. His tone was steady, patient but insistent. "How did you find enough? For all of you?" S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The larger goblin''s gaze dropped to the ground. "We take turns," it murmured. "One¡­ two go out. Look for food. Bring back what we find. If it''s not enough¡­ we share." "And if it''s still not enough?" Volk pressed, his voice low. The goblin flinched at the question, its trembling increasing. "Then we wait," it whispered, its words almost inaudible. "We wait for the strong to eat¡­ so the rest can stay hidden." Read latest chapters at empire Volk''s crimson eyes darkened at the admission. The survival of the fittest, even among their own kind. It was brutal, but not surprising. "What about water?" he asked, his tone softening slightly. The goblin pointed toward the far end of the cave, where a faint glimmer of moisture caught the torchlight. "There," it said. "A crack¡­ in the stone. Water drips down. Enough for us." Volk nodded slowly, his mind piecing together the grim reality of their existence. But there was more he needed to know. "Why here?" he asked, his voice steady but firm. "Why this place?" The goblin glanced toward the others again, its gaze lingering on the smallest one before it spoke. "The bird," it said, its voice trembling anew. "It found us. Took us. Brought us here." Volk''s jaw tightened. "Why?" The goblin hesitated, its trembling hands clutching at the tattered remnants of its clothing. "To eat," it said finally, its voice breaking. "It took us¡­ one by one. When it was hungry." The smaller goblins whimpered, their thin bodies curling in on themselves as if to hide from the memory. Volk''s grip on the torch tightened, the flame flickering as his knuckles whitened. "How long?" he asked, his voice low and cold. The goblin shook its head, its yellow eyes glistening. "We¡­ don''t know," it said, its voice barely audible. "Time is¡­ dark. Always dark. No end." Volk exhaled slowly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he processed their words. Their lives had been nothing but fear and darkness, a constant struggle for survival under the shadow of a predator. "And before the bird?" he asked, his tone softening. The goblin blinked, surprised by the question. "Before¡­" it began, then trailed off, its gaze growing distant. "We were¡­ outside," it said after a long pause. "In the forest. The trees¡­ were big. Tall. We hid under them. Found food in the dirt. Dug holes to sleep." Its voice grew quieter, tinged with a strange mixture of nostalgia and sorrow. "The forest was¡­ better. Safer. Until¡­" "Until what?" Volk prompted. The goblin''s gaze hardened, its trembling slowing as a flicker of anger replaced its fear. "Flying ones," it said, its voice low but firm. "They came. Took us. Like the bird. But¡­ worse." "Worse how?" Volk asked, leaning closer. "They hurt us," the goblin said, its words sharp and bitter. "Tied us. Beat us. Made us walk¡­ far. To the bird. They gave us to it." The smaller goblins whimpered again, their frail forms trembling as the memories resurfaced. Volk''s expression darkened, a cold fury simmering beneath his calm exterior. "The flying ones¡­" he murmured, his mind racing. The harpy people. They weren''t just threats¡ªthey were slavers, preying on the weak and offering them as sacrifices. He exhaled slowly, his gaze returning to the goblins. "You don''t have to fear them anymore," he said firmly. "They won''t hurt you again." The goblins didn''t respond immediately, their glowing eyes filled with a fragile hope that bordered on disbelief. But Volk''s tone left no room for doubt. For the first time, the largest goblin straightened slightly, its trembling subsiding as it met Volk''s gaze. "Thank you," it said quietly, its voice steady despite the tears that glistened in its eyes. Volk stood in the dim cave, the weak light of the torch in his hand flickering against the uneven stone walls. His mind churned as he gazed at the trembling goblins before him. Were these creatures truly victims of the "flying people"? Could their memories of the attackers be trusted? He squatted again, lowering himself to their level, his crimson eyes narrowing in thought. "Flying people," he muttered under his breath. The term gnawed at him, scratching the back of his mind like a half-remembered nightmare. He exhaled deeply, his breath escaping in a visible puff of mist in the damp cave air. Finally, he broke the silence. "Tell me more," Volk said, his voice calm but probing. "These flying ones. What did they look like?" The goblins exchanged nervous glances, their yellowish eyes flickering with uncertainty. Finally, the largest among them spoke, its voice hesitant but steady. "They¡­ have wings," it said, gesturing weakly with its bony arms. "Big. Feathers." "Wings and feathers," Volk repeated, his tone neutral. "What else? What about their faces?" The goblin hesitated, its gaze darting away. "They¡­ like us, but not like us," it murmured. "Hard faces. Sharp eyes." Volk frowned, his brow furrowing. "Not like you? What do you mean? Were they larger? Smaller? Did they wear armor?" The goblin shook its head, its thin frame trembling slightly. "Not larger. Same size. But¡­ strong. They had¡­ claws." "Claws," Volk echoed, his voice thoughtful. He leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting to the cave''s ceiling. "And their voices? What did they sound like?" The goblin''s expression darkened. "High," it said. "Shrill. Like¡­ screaming. Always screaming." A smaller goblin whimpered, covering its ears as if the memory of the sound was too much to bear. Volk tilted his head, his sharp eyes narrowing further. "What did they scream?" he pressed. "Words? Or just sounds?" The goblin hesitated, then shrugged weakly. "Words," it said, though its tone was uncertain. "But¡­ strange. Not ours. Couldn''t understand." Volk leaned forward again, his crimson eyes narrowing as he considered the information. So the flying ones were humanoid but winged, spoke in an unfamiliar tongue, and were predatory enough to enslave and offer goblins as sacrifices. But their motives still eluded him. "What did they want from you?" Volk asked, his voice low and measured. The goblin hesitated, its hands wringing nervously. "We¡­ don''t know," it admitted. "They took us. Gave us¡­ to the bird. Didn''t speak to us. Only screamed." Volk exhaled sharply, his frustration mounting. There was something missing¡ªsome critical piece of the puzzle he couldn''t yet see. "How many of them?" he asked, his tone sharpening. "Were there dozens? Hundreds? Did they come in waves or all at once?" The goblin flinched at the sudden intensity of his voice. "Not many," it said quickly. "Ten? Maybe more. But strong. We couldn''t fight." Volk''s gaze darkened. Ten or so flying warriors had been enough to overwhelm and capture an entire group of goblins. His horde had struggled against a single giant bird. What chance would they have against an organized force of aerial combatants? He sighed deeply, rubbing his temple with one hand. The problem gnawed at him like an itch he couldn''t scratch. His horde was powerful, yes, but they were grounded¡ªbound to the earth by their size and weight. They had no way to deal with threats that could attack from above. "If only¡­" Volk muttered, his voice trailing off. The goblins glanced at each other nervously, their expressions a mix of fear and curiosity. One of the smaller ones finally spoke, its voice trembling but audible. "Our fathers¡­" it began hesitantly, its gaze fixed on the floor. Volk''s head snapped toward the goblin, his crimson eyes narrowing. "Your fathers?" he repeated. "What about them?" The goblin hesitated, its thin fingers fidgeting nervously. "They¡­ used to build things," it said finally, its voice barely above a whisper. "Build things?" Volk echoed, his tone sharp with interest. "What things?" The goblin shrugged, its expression uncertain. "Don''t know," it admitted. "They¡­ made wood into shapes. Put it together. Big shapes." "Big shapes," Volk repeated, his voice thoughtful. He leaned back slightly, his sharp mind racing. "What for? Did they use these¡­ shapes?" The goblin shook its head. "Don''t know," it said again. "We were¡­ too small. But they worked all the time. Hammering. Cutting." Volk''s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of realization sparking in his mind. He straightened, his grip on the torch tightening as he processed the goblin''s words. If their fathers had been builders, skilled enough to create large structures or tools, then perhaps¡­ The goblin tilted its head, its yellowish eyes narrowing in confusion. "Why?" it asked hesitantly. "What do you need?" Volk didn''t answer immediately, his mind too preoccupied with the possibilities. Finally, a slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "There''s potential here," he murmured to himself, his voice low but tinged with excitement. The goblins flinched slightly at the sudden change in his demeanor, their nervous gazes darting to each other. Volk turned back to them, his crimson eyes gleaming with newfound determination. "Your fathers may have been builders," he said, his voice steady and confident. "But now, you will be the ones to rise." Chapter 313 Recalling the past The little goblin hesitated, its gaunt fingers fidgeting with the loose threads of its ragged tunic. Its yellow eyes, wide with fear and uncertainty, glimmered faintly in the torchlight as Volk loomed above. The other goblins shrank back against the rocky walls, their expressions wary, but the little one seemed to draw strength from Volk''s intense gaze. Slowly, it began to speak. "My father¡­ he was strong," the goblin said, its voice trembling but growing steadier as it continued. "Not strong like your ogres or orcs, but¡­ clever. Always working, always building. He made things with his hands, strange things that glowed in the dark or sang when the wind touched them. The birdmen¡­ they didn''t like that." Volk tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing with interest. He leaned closer, his towering figure casting an even darker shadow over the diminutive creature. "What things?" he asked, his voice low but commanding. "What did your father build that angered them?" The goblin swallowed hard, its bony chest rising and falling rapidly as it tried to muster the courage to continue. "He made weapons," it said finally. "Not like yours. Not swords or axes. He called them¡­ tools. But they hurt the birdmen. My father said they were for protection, to keep us safe. But the birdmen came. They¡­ they said we were dangerous." Volk''s brow furrowed, his sharp mind racing to piece together the fragments of the story. He crouched down, bringing himself closer to the goblin''s level, his voice softening slightly. "Go on," he urged. "What did they do when they came?" Stay updated through empire The goblin''s face twisted in anguish, its memories clearly painful. It looked away, its voice faltering as it continued. "They came from the sky, screeching like demons. Their wings blotted out the sun. They tore through the village, breaking everything. They said¡­ they said we didn''t deserve to live. That we were¡­ abominations." It paused, its small hands clenching into fists. "My father tried to fight them. He used one of his tools¡ªit shot fire, bright and hot, and it burned one of the birdmen''s wings. But there were too many. They broke his arms, ripped his tools apart. My mother¡­ she tried to hide me, but they found us. They¡­ they took me." Volk''s jaw tightened, a surge of anger flaring in his chest. "They took you to feed their beast," he said, his tone icy. "And the rest of your people?" The goblin''s voice broke as it spoke, tears streaming down its gaunt cheeks. "They killed them. All of them. My friends, my brothers, my mother and father. They said¡­ they said it was punishment for defying them. And the children¡­ they kept us alive, but only to feed the bird." The cave fell silent, the weight of the goblin''s story pressing heavily on everyone present. Even the other goblins, who had remained silent until now, bowed their heads in grief and fear. Volk stood slowly, his crimson eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and determination. "And your father," Volk said after a long pause. "These tools he made¡­ did you see how he built them? Do you remember anything about them?" The little goblin hesitated, its tear-streaked face twisting in concentration. "I¡­ I don''t know," it said finally. "I was small. But I remember¡­ shapes. Pieces of metal, wood. They fit together. He would carve runes into them, whisper words I didn''t understand. And¡­ there was light. A glowing crystal, blue and bright. He called it the heart." sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "The heart," Volk repeated, his mind latching onto the detail. He crouched again, his intense gaze boring into the goblin. "Where did he get it? This crystal?" The goblin shook its head, its expression apologetic. "I don''t know," it said. "But he always said¡­ the heart is the key. Without it, the tools are just¡­ broken things." Volk''s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. A crystal that could power magical tools¡ªif he could find something similar, perhaps he could arm his horde against the birdmen. The thought filled him with a flicker of hope, though it was tempered by the realization that such a discovery would not come easily. "Your father," Volk said after a moment. "Did he teach anyone else to build these tools? Are there others who know how to make them?" The goblin''s face fell, and it shook its head. "No," it said softly. "My father was the only one. He tried to teach, but¡­ the others were afraid. They said his tools would bring danger, and they were right. When the birdmen came, they blamed him. They said it was his fault." Volk exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but there were still so many questions, so many unknowns. He leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking to the other goblins. "And you?" he asked, addressing the group. "Do any of you remember anything about these tools? Anything your parents might have said or done?" The goblins exchanged nervous glances, their expressions uncertain. Finally, one of them stepped forward hesitantly, its voice barely above a whisper. "I remember my mother¡­ she said the tools were powerful, but dangerous. She said they could hurt the birdmen, but they could hurt us too if we weren''t careful. That''s why no one wanted to use them." Volk nodded slowly, his mind racing. The tools were powerful enough to pose a threat to the birdmen, but they required skill and knowledge to wield safely. Without someone to guide them, they could be as much a liability as an asset. Still, the potential was undeniable. If he could find a way to recreate these tools¡ªor better yet, improve upon them¡ªhis horde might stand a chance against the aerial menace. He turned back to the little goblin, his expression softening slightly. "You''ve been through much," he said, his voice quieter now. "But your father''s work¡­ it might be the key to your freedom. To all our freedom. If you can remember anything else, anything at all, it could make a difference." The little goblin hesitated, its expression conflicted. Finally, it looked up at Volk, its yellow eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hope. "I''ll try," it said softly. "For my father. For my people." Volk nodded, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Good," he said. "Then we have a starting point." He straightened, his gaze sweeping over the group of goblins. "You''ve survived despite everything," he said, his voice firm and commanding. "You are stronger than you know. And together, we will make those who hurt you pay." The goblins stared at him, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. Slowly, one by one, they nodded, their fear giving way to a flicker of determination. Volk turned back to the little goblin, his crimson eyes gleaming with newfound purpose. "Tell me everything you can remember," he said. "Every detail, no matter how small. And together, we will turn that knowledge into power." Chapter 314 Aerial Assault Goblins The little goblins shifted nervously, their tiny, malnourished frames trembling under Volk''s towering presence. Yet, their eyes¡ªdim and haunted¡ªheld a faint spark of something Volk hadn''t seen in them before: purpose. One of the goblins, the same small one who had spoken earlier, took a timid step forward and cleared its throat, glancing hesitantly up at him. "W-We¡­ we need things," it stammered, its voice cracking. "Tools. Wood. Metal. Rope. Anything we can find." Volk''s crimson eyes narrowed as he looked down at the creature. "Things? For what?" he asked, crossing his arms, his voice low and almost predatory. The goblins flinched at his tone, but the little one mustered its courage. "To¡­ build," it whispered. Its fingers fidgeted nervously, wringing the tattered edge of its sleeve. "If we''re to make what my father did, we''ll need things to work with. We''ll need tools and¡­ and¡­" "And what?" Volk pressed, his patience beginning to wear thin. The goblin gulped, glancing back at its companions for support. They all huddled together, their heads bobbing as if silently urging it to continue. "And time," it said at last. "It won''t be fast, but if we try¡ªif we remember¡ªmaybe we can make something." The request was almost laughable. Volk looked at the tiny goblins¡ªfrail, starving, with hands that trembled even as they clung to one another¡ªand then at the scattered remnants of his horde, who stood watching with a mixture of confusion and faint amusement. A bark of laughter escaped him, harsh and humorless. "You think you can build something?" Volk asked, his tone laced with disbelief. He gestured broadly at the goblins, their feeble forms barely capable of standing upright. "You, who look as though a stiff breeze could blow you away? What could you possibly make that would be worth the effort?" The little goblin didn''t shrink back this time. Instead, it raised its chin slightly, its yellow eyes glinting with a faint hint of defiance. "It doesn''t matter what we look like," it said, its voice steadier now. "If you give us what we need, we''ll try. That''s all we can do." Volk stared at it for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to the surprise of everyone present, he gave a sharp nod. "Fine," he said, his tone curt. "You want materials? We''ll give you materials. But don''t waste my time." He turned to his horde, his voice booming as he barked out orders. "Gather everything we have¡ªwood, metal scraps, ropes, even cloth. Anything that might be useful, bring it here." The orcs and ogres exchanged dubious glances but didn''t dare argue. They grunted their acknowledgments and began scattering in all directions, scouring the area for supplies. The goblins, meanwhile, seemed to come alive at Volk''s begrudging approval. Their hunched postures straightened slightly, and their eyes glimmered with a strange light as they huddled together, whispering hurriedly. It was as though some dormant instinct had been awakened within them¡ªa primal memory of a time when their kind had been creators, not just victims. As the materials began to pile up¡ªplanks of wood, twisted scraps of metal, frayed ropes, and even a few battered tools¡ªthe goblins moved with surprising efficiency. They scrambled over the supplies, sorting them into neat piles with quick, precise movements. Their small hands, though calloused and dirty, were surprisingly nimble as they began to assemble makeshift tools from the available scraps. Volk watched with a mixture of bemusement and skepticism. The goblins worked with a kind of frenetic energy, their bony frames darting back and forth like overactive ants. It was almost comical¡ªthese tiny, half-starved creatures, chattering excitedly as they hammered and tied and carved with an intensity that bordered on obsessive. "They look like a bunch of children at some human academy," Volk muttered under his breath, his lips twitching in a rare, fleeting smirk. "Building some school project for a teacher''s approval." Indeed, there was an odd, almost youthful enthusiasm to their movements. The goblins bickered over designs, gesturing wildly with their thin arms as they debated the best way to attach a plank or secure a joint. One of them, a particularly tiny creature with a squeaky voice, seemed to have taken on the role of leader, barking out instructions in a tone that was both commanding and utterly absurd coming from such a small figure. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "No, no, no! The rope goes there, not there!" it squeaked, waving a stick emphatically at its companions. "And tie it tighter! If it''s loose, the whole thing will fall apart!" Volk raised an eyebrow, folding his arms as he leaned against the cave wall. He had to admit, the goblins were far more organized than he''d expected. Despite their frail appearance, they moved with purpose, their hands deftly weaving ropes, hammering nails, and carving intricate patterns into the wooden planks. "What exactly are they making?" one of the orcs muttered, scratching its head as it watched the goblins with a bemused expression. Volk didn''t answer immediately. His sharp eyes scanned the goblins'' work, noting the crude but functional designs beginning to take shape. It was clear that the goblins had a vision¡ªalbeit one that was difficult for anyone else to decipher. Hours passed, and the goblins showed no signs of slowing down. Their initial hesitation had vanished, replaced by a kind of feverish determination. They worked tirelessly, their thin bodies drenched in sweat but their eyes alight with purpose. Volk found himself strangely fascinated by their progress. Despite their small size and apparent fragility, the goblins displayed a level of creativity and ingenuity that was both unexpected and impressive. They used every scrap of material to its fullest potential, turning even the most unassuming items into essential components of their project. Stay connected through empire Finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the goblins stepped back from their creation, their faces flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. Before them stood a bizarre, ramshackle contraption that defied easy description. It was part cart, part trebuchet, part¡­ something else entirely. Volk approached the structure, his crimson eyes narrowing as he examined it closely. "What is it?" he asked, his tone skeptical but tinged with curiosity. The tiny goblin who had been acting as the leader stepped forward, its chest puffed out with pride. "It''s¡­ not done yet," it admitted, scratching its head sheepishly. "But it''s a start. This¡­ this will help us. It''s like what my father used to build, but¡­ simpler. Safer." Volk raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "And you think this will work?" he asked, his voice low and probing. The goblin hesitated for a moment, then nodded firmly. "It has to," it said simply. "We''ll keep working until it does." For a moment, Volk said nothing. Then, a slow, rare smile spread across his face. "Good," he said, his voice filled with a rare note of approval. "Then keep going. Show me what you can do." The goblins'' faces lit up with a mixture of relief and determination. They turned back to their work, their small hands moving with renewed energy as they began to refine and improve their creation. Volk stepped back, folding his arms as he watched them. For the first time, he felt a flicker of genuine hope. These goblins, as pitiful as they had seemed, might just prove to be the key to his horde''s survival¡ªand perhaps even its ultimate victory. Chapter 315 Flight Test The goblins worked tirelessly, their nimble fingers flying across wood, metal, and rope as they shaped the final components of their strange contraptions. Each step seemed to breathe life into their creations. The Horde stood by, watching with a mix of skepticism and curiosity as the goblins, drenched in sweat and caked in dirt, moved with a determination that defied their frail forms. At last, the lead goblin¡ªtiny and squeaky but commanding respect among its kind¡ªstood before the largest structure they had built. It raised its arms high, calling for attention, and squeaked out, "Done! We''re done!" The rest of the goblins collapsed onto the ground, exhausted but victorious. Before them stood a series of crude but sturdy harnesses, wings crafted from wood and tightly stretched cloth, and strange devices that gleamed faintly with magical energy. The contraptions looked bizarre, a mix of primitive engineering and faint traces of magic, but there was no denying they were functional. Volk stepped forward, his crimson eyes scanning the contraptions. His expression was unreadable as he examined the makeshift gliders and equipment. "These will work?" he asked, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs of the Horde. The lead goblin puffed out its chest, though it still trembled under Volk''s gaze. "Y-Yes, Warchief!" it stammered. "They''re not perfect, but they''ll let your warriors fly short distances! Enough to fight those in the sky or get higher ground quickly!" The Horde erupted into murmurs of astonishment. Orcs and ogres alike leaned closer, muttering to one another as they eyed the strange devices. The idea of flying was as foreign to them as the stars themselves, and yet here it was¡ªa possibility crafted by the most unlikely of hands. Volk narrowed his eyes, looking at the goblins with a mix of surprise and grudging respect. "You''ve outdone yourselves," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "If these work, we might stand a chance." The Horde watched as Volk gestured for the goblins to demonstrate the devices. Two of the goblins scrambled forward, picking up a pair of the crude gliders. They strapped themselves in with practiced ease, their tiny hands working deftly to tighten the leather straps around their waists and shoulders. Then, with an audible gulp, they flapped the wings experimentally and launched themselves off a nearby ledge. For a moment, there was only silence. The goblins soared through the air in clumsy, wobbling arcs, their squeals of terror ringing out. But then, as they adjusted their movements, they began to glide more smoothly. The Horde erupted into cheers and laughter, watching the goblins land on the ground with wide, triumphant grins. Volk''s lips twitched into a faint smile. He turned to his Horde, his voice booming. "You''ve seen it with your own eyes! These goblins have given us the means to fight on even ground¡ªno, above ground! With this, we will hunt those who think themselves untouchable!" The Horde roared in approval, their voices echoing through the cavern. The goblins, emboldened by the reaction, hurried forward to distribute the equipment. Each orc and ogre took their turn donning the gliders and harnesses. The straps were rough and the fit awkward, but the warriors adjusted quickly, their hulking forms now adorned with the crude yet functional devices. The sight was almost comical¡ªgiant, muscular orcs and ogres awkwardly flapping wooden wings like oversized birds¡ªbut the Horde took it seriously. They adjusted their stances, tested the balance of the contraptions, and practiced small jumps to get a feel for the gliders. Volk stood at the center of it all, his sharp gaze assessing each warrior as they adapted to the new equipment. He gave pointers where needed, his commanding presence ensuring that no one dared to slack off. Though he wouldn''t admit it aloud, he felt a strange sense of pride as he watched his Horde transform before his eyes. The lead goblin scurried up to Volk, its yellow eyes gleaming with excitement. "Warchief," it said breathlessly, "there''s more! The tools¡ªmy father''s tools¡ªwe used them to make these, but there''s still potential! If we had more time, more resources, we could¡ª" "Enough," Volk interrupted, though not unkindly. He placed a heavy hand on the goblin''s shoulder, nearly knocking it over. "You''ve done more than enough for now. Rest. You''ve earned it." The goblin nodded quickly, retreating to join its exhausted comrades. Volk turned back to his Horde, his voice rising above the clamor. "Warriors of Lyern! We are no longer bound to the earth! With these wings, we will hunt our enemies in their own domain! Prepare yourselves¡ªour fight is far from over!" The Horde erupted into another cheer, their voices shaking the very walls of the cavern. For the first time in what felt like ages, hope burned brightly among them. And as Volk looked out over his transformed Horde, he allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. Volk raised his hand, silencing the cacophony of cheers from his Horde. His crimson eyes scanned the warriors before him, now awkwardly outfitted with the goblin-made gliders. The initial novelty had faded, replaced with a sense of purpose. But Volk wasn''t one to leave things to chance. "These contraptions," he began, his voice booming through the cavern, "are untested in real combat. The sky is not forgiving. If you cannot handle these wings, you will fall. And if you fall, you die." The weight of his words pressed on the Horde. The orcs and ogres stiffened, gripping their new gear tightly. The goblins, still gathered near the edges of the cavern, exchanged nervous glances. Volk let the silence linger for a moment, then barked, "We test them now!" The command was met with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Volk pointed toward the cavern''s upper ledges, natural platforms jutting out like jagged steps toward the ceiling. "Get up there. All of you equipped with wings, climb. You''ll jump and glide. No excuses, no hesitation." The Horde obeyed immediately, their movements swift despite the cumbersome gliders. Ogres lumbered toward the walls, their powerful arms hauling their massive bodies upward with surprising ease. Orcs followed, their wiry frames scaling the jagged rocks with practiced agility. The cavern echoed with the scrape of boots, the clang of armor, and the occasional grunt of effort. Below, Volk watched with a critical eye, arms crossed over his chest. He observed every misstep, every hesitation. The goblins, too small to climb, scurried to the base of the walls, shouting haphazard advice. "Don''t lean too far forward!" one squeaked. "Flap harder on the left!" another piped up. When the first ogre reached the top of a ledge, Volk barked, "Jump!" The ogre hesitated for a heartbeat, looking down at the dizzying drop. Then, with a roar, it leapt into the void. The crude wings spread wide, catching the air with a hollow whumph. The ogre''s descent was shaky, the wings wobbling under the strain of its massive body. But it glided nonetheless, landing with a thunderous crash on the ground below. The cavern erupted into cheers. Volk raised his hand again, silencing them. "Next!" he ordered. One by one, the Horde leapt from the ledges. Some glides were smooth, others chaotic. An orc spiraled out of control, landing face-first with a loud thud that sent dust flying. Another overshot the landing zone, slamming into a rock wall with a painful crack. Volk''s sharp gaze tracked each attempt, his mind calculating who was adapting and who was struggling. "You call that flying?" Volk snarled at one orc, who had barely managed to glide a few feet before crashing. "Try again, and this time, act like you''ve got more than mud between your ears!" The orc, battered but determined, scrambled back up the wall. As the tests continued, Volk began to see patterns. The ogres, though strong, struggled to maintain control due to their size and weight. The orcs, more agile, adapted faster but lacked the brute strength to power through turbulence. The goblin-made contraptions were far from perfect, but they were functional. It was a start. Finally, after what felt like hours, Volk raised his hand. "Enough!" The Horde gathered before him, sweat-soaked and bruised but standing tall. The goblins shuffled nervously at the edges, their yellow eyes darting toward Volk as if awaiting judgment. "Not bad," Volk said, his tone grudging. "You''re clumsy, slow, and half of you look like you''re trying to wrestle the wind instead of glide on it. But you''ll learn. You''ll adapt. Because if you don''t, you''ll die." His words were harsh, but the Horde responded with a unified roar of determination. The orcs beat their chests, and the ogres pounded the ground with their massive fists. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk turned his gaze toward the goblins, his expression softening ever so slightly. "These wings¡ªyour work¡ªhave given us a fighting chance. You''ve proven your worth to this Horde." The goblins'' faces lit up, their chests puffing with pride. One of them, the lead goblin who had overseen the construction, stepped forward. "W-Warchief," it stammered, "we can make them better! Stronger! Just give us more time and¡ª" "You''ll get your time," Volk interrupted. "But for now, we''ve got more work to do." He turned back to the Horde, his crimson eyes blazing. "This was just the beginning. You''ve tasted the sky. Now, we master it. Prepare yourselves¡ªwe move out at dawn." Chapter 316 Surface The Horde of Lyern stirred to life before the first light of dawn. The cavern, their home for what felt like an eternity, was alive with movement and purpose. Orcs adjusted their armor, their gruff voices echoing as they strapped on crude gliders built by their newest and smallest allies. Ogres hefted their massive weapons, occasionally testing the contraptions strapped to their backs with experimental flaps that sent gusts of air through the cavern. The goblins, exhausted but energized by a sense of accomplishment, darted between the larger warriors, checking straps, muttering final instructions, and occasionally dodging a careless swipe from an ogre''s swinging arm. At the center of it all stood Volk, his crimson eyes scanning his Horde with a mixture of pride and scrutiny. His presence alone commanded order amidst the chaos. One by one, he barked commands, and his warriors snapped to attention, their movements sharpening under his gaze. "Today, we leave this pit," Volk growled, his voice cutting through the noise like the edge of a blade. "No more hiding. No more waiting. We march, but this time¡ª" his gaze swept over the small group of goblins standing nervously at the edge of the gathering, "we march with new allies. These goblins have given us the tools to fight the enemy in their own domain. They are part of the Horde now. Treat them as such." The goblins straightened under the weight of his words, their wide, yellow eyes darting nervously at the towering orcs and ogres around them. The larger warriors muttered among themselves, some grumbling, others nodding in agreement. Volk''s decree was absolute, and no one dared challenge it. With a sharp gesture, Volk signaled the start of their march. The Horde began to move, their collective presence a thundering echo within the cavern. Boots clanged against the stone, the rhythmic pounding reverberating like a drumbeat of war. The ogres, massive and slow, took the rear, their heavy footfalls sending small vibrations through the ground. The orcs moved with a hunter''s grace, their steps precise and calculated. And weaving between them, almost invisible in comparison, were the goblins, their small frames darting to and fro as they struggled to keep up. The journey toward the mouth of the cave was slow, deliberate. Every step was a reminder of their purpose, every movement a testament to their unity. The light of torches flickered against the jagged walls, casting long shadows that danced across the cavern ceiling like restless spirits. As they ascended, the air began to change. The damp, musty scent of the underground gave way to something crisper, cooler. A faint breeze whispered through the cavern, carrying with it the promise of open skies. The goblins, unused to such a sensation, paused occasionally to sniff the air, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Volk, at the front, led them with unwavering confidence. His heavy boots struck the ground with purpose, each step a declaration of his resolve. The torch he carried illuminated the path ahead, the warm glow casting his imposing shadow against the cavern walls. Behind him, his Horde followed, their formations tight, their eyes fixed on the path ahead. As they neared the mouth of the cave, the light grew brighter, the breeze stronger. The first hints of dawn painted the rock walls with hues of gold and amber, a stark contrast to the cold, dark interior they were leaving behind. The goblins shielded their eyes, squinting at the unfamiliar brightness. When they finally emerged into the open, the Horde came to a halt. The sight before them was breathtaking. The world stretched out in all directions, vast and wild. Rolling hills blanketed in morning mist, ancient trees that reached for the heavens, and a sky painted in hues of orange and pink. The air was crisp, alive, carrying the distant calls of birds and the rustle of leaves. The orcs and ogres stood tall, their chests swelling with the fresh air. For a moment, even the most hardened among them seemed softened by the beauty of the world outside. The goblins, too, stood in awe, their eyes wide as they took in the expanse before them. Volk turned to face his Horde, his crimson eyes gleaming in the light of dawn. Behind him, the rising sun cast a halo of gold around his towering frame. "This is where we fight," he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of his conviction. "This is where we reclaim what is ours. With these wings, with these new allies¡ªtogether, we will conquer the skies." The Horde let out a unified roar, the sound echoing across the hills and trees. The goblins, emboldened by the display, joined in with high-pitched squeaks, their voices blending with the deeper cries of the orcs and ogres. And so, they began their march. The landscape around them shifted as they moved. The hills gave way to dense forests, the trees towering above them like ancient sentinels. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the ground. The Horde moved as one, their formations unbroken despite the uneven terrain. The goblins, though small, proved resourceful. They scurried ahead, scouting the path, pointing out obstacles, and occasionally clambering up trees to get a better view. Their nimbleness complemented the brute strength of the orcs and ogres, creating a sense of balance within the group. Volk observed it all, his mind racing with possibilities. The addition of the goblins had shifted the dynamics of his Horde. They brought something new, something vital. As he watched them work, a rare flicker of hope stirred within him. The journey was long, the march arduous. But the Horde pressed on, their resolve unwavering. They were no longer just warriors bound to the ground. With the goblins at their side, they were something more¡ªsomething greater. And as they moved deeper into the wild, Volk allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. This was just the beginning. The Horde of Lyern came to an abrupt halt as Volk raised his hand, signaling them to stop. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, and the sound of gnawing echoed faintly in the distance. Ahead of them, in a clearing just beyond the trees, lay the skeletal remains of the giant bird they had slain the previous day. Its bones, gleaming unnaturally white in the morning light, were scattered like the remnants of some ancient monument. But it wasn''t the bones that held their attention¡ªit was the creatures crouched upon them. The bat-like beings were hunched and grotesque, their leathery wings folded tightly against their sinewy bodies. Their skin was an ashen gray, mottled with veins that pulsed faintly in the sunlight. Sharp claws scraped against the bird''s bones as they tore off remnants of flesh, their elongated jaws revealing rows of jagged, blood-stained teeth. Long, angular ears twitched, alert to the slightest sound, while their glowing, crimson eyes darted nervously across their surroundings. There were dozens of them, perhaps more, scattered around the clearing. They moved with an eerie grace, their movements almost predatory, as though they were as much scavengers as hunters. Occasionally, one would hiss, the sound like the tearing of fabric, before plunging its fangs into the remaining sinew. Volk observed the scene carefully, his crimson eyes narrowing as he took in every detail. These creatures were unlike the harpies or the giant bird they had faced before. They exuded an unsettling aura, a sense of cunning and malice that set his instincts on edge. He turned to his Horde, his voice low but commanding. "These¡­ things," he said, gesturing toward the bat-like creatures, "are our first target. They have already defiled our kill. Let them serve as the perfect test for what we''ve built." The orcs and ogres stiffened, their weapons at the ready. The goblins, though smaller and less confident, mirrored their movements, gripping their tools and gliders with determination. "But remember," Volk continued, his voice rising slightly. "This is no ordinary fight. We''re not grounded anymore. These creatures have wings, but so do we. Prove to me that what we have created is not just tools¡ªbut power!" The Horde roared in unison, their battle cries shaking the very trees around them. Even the goblins joined in, their high-pitched screeches blending with the deeper, guttural cries of the orcs and the booming voices of the ogres. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk raised his hand again, silencing them with a single gesture. "Prepare for combat," he commanded. "It''s time for the test run." The Horde sprang into action. The goblins scurried among the larger warriors, distributing final adjustments to the gliders and weapons they had crafted. Orcs and ogres strapped themselves into their makeshift flight gear, their movements hurried but precise. The goblins checked every strap, every joint, ensuring that the contraptions would hold. Volk stepped forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow over his warriors. His eyes flicked between the bat creatures and his Horde, calculating every possibility. He gripped the hilt of his weapon tightly, his crimson gaze sharpening. "Spread out," he ordered, his voice cutting through the rustling of leaves and the faint screeches of the bat creatures. "Let''s see if these creatures can handle what we''ve become." As the Horde moved into position, the bat creatures seemed to sense the shift in the air. Their movements became more erratic, their crimson eyes glowing brighter as they hissed and screeched, their wings unfurling in preparation for flight. Volk smirked, his voice a growl of anticipation. "Let the hunt begin." Chapter 317 Real time The Horde charged forward with their newly crafted gadgets strapped to their backs, their formations breaking into an uncoordinated mess as they prepared to confront the bat creatures. The ogres were the first to leap, their large gliders straining under their bulk as they launched themselves awkwardly into the air. Fwoosh! The wings of their contraptions flapped with a mechanical groan, sending them lurching upward in an uneven arc. One of the ogres tilted too far to the right, spinning uncontrollably before slamming into a tree with a thunderous CRASH!. "Ughh!" he groaned, pulling himself up as branches rained down around him. The orcs were no better. Their smaller frames made the gliders easier to maneuver, but they were erratic in their movements, zigzagging through the air with no sense of direction. One soared too low, clipping the edge of a rock, while another spiraled upward, only to stall and plummet to the ground in a heap. The goblins¡ªsmall and nimble¡ªhad better luck getting airborne, but their enthusiasm was their undoing. They flitted about like oversized dragonflies, colliding with each other mid-air or forgetting entirely how to land. Volk stood at the center of the chaos, his crimson eyes narrowing as he observed the pandemonium. His fingers twitched at his sides, and his jaw tightened as he fought back the urge to shout. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he cupped his hands around his mouth and roared, his voice booming like thunder across the battlefield. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! ORC, YOU''RE NOT A DRUNK BIRD, STOP SWERVING!" he bellowed, pointing at a particularly clumsy warrior. The orc in question flailed, his glider tilting dangerously to one side before he managed to straighten it out. Explore hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire "Ogre! Stop trying to crush the air! Fly! Your weight isn''t the problem¡ªit''s your lack of balance! Keep your arms steady!" An ogre growled in frustration but followed Volk''s advice, his massive frame stabilizing slightly as his glider began to level out. "And you, goblins!" Volk turned his fiery gaze toward the smaller creatures buzzing around like chaotic bees. "STOP FLYING INTO EACH OTHER! Space yourselves out or I''ll toss you all into the trees myself!" The goblins squeaked in terror but quickly began to spread out, their movements becoming less erratic as they adjusted their flight paths. One of the bat creatures took notice of the disorganized Horde and launched itself toward a goblin, its claws outstretched and its jaws snapping with a feral screech. "LEFT! DODGE LEFT!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The goblin barely managed to veer to the side, the bat creature''s claws missing him by inches. The little goblin squealed in fright, his glider wobbling precariously before he managed to regain control. Volk growled under his breath, his hands tightening into fists. "This is a mess. We''ll be picked off one by one at this rate. Focus, you fools!" Another bat creature swooped low, aiming for an orc who was struggling to ascend. The orc raised his weapon to block but overcompensated, his glider pitching backward as he flailed helplessly. "STOP SWINGING WILDLY! Stabilize first, then strike!" Volk shouted, his voice carrying over the screeches of the bat creatures. The orc gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip on the glider''s controls before steadying himself. With a sharp, focused swing, he brought his weapon down on the bat creature''s wing, severing it with a sickening SNAP!. The creature shrieked in agony, spiraling to the ground in a flurry of leathery wings and blood. "Yes! That''s it!" Volk roared, a fierce grin spreading across his face. "That''s how it''s done! Pay attention to your movements, and don''t panic!" He turned his gaze upward, scanning the chaos for more errors to correct. His sharp eyes caught sight of an ogre who was struggling to climb higher, his glider straining under his weight. "OGRE! Push your weight forward, not back! You''re too heavy to rely on the wings alone¡ªuse momentum to your advantage!" The ogre grunted in acknowledgment, leaning forward as he flapped his glider''s wings with renewed vigor. Slowly but surely, he began to ascend, his massive frame cutting through the air with surprising grace. Meanwhile, one of the goblins managed to outmaneuver a bat creature, darting around its claws and landing a precise strike on its side with a small dagger. The bat creature screeched, retreating as the goblin let out a triumphant cheer. Volk''s eyes gleamed with approval as he watched the goblin dart away, his movements fluid and confident. "Finally," Volk muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. "One of them is improving." Volk''s sharp eyes darted from one struggling Horde member to another, his jaw set in frustration. Though some had begun to adapt, the battlefield was still rife with mistakes that grated on his nerves. With the cacophony of clashing weapons, screeching bat creatures, and the occasional THUD of a clumsy ogre or orc crashing to the ground, Volk''s booming voice cut through the chaos like a war drum. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "NO! Not like that! You''re flying sideways, idiot!" he roared, pointing furiously at a wobbling goblin whose glider spun in a slow, pathetic spiral toward a cluster of trees. "Do you want to impale yourself on a branch?! Adjust the left wing, NOW!" The goblin squeaked in terror, fumbling with the controls. He managed to level out at the last second, his tiny legs flailing wildly as he regained altitude. "Orc! Stop flapping like a dying fish!" Volk snapped, his voice full of exasperation. He jabbed a finger at a stout orc whose massive glider was struggling against the air. "It''s not about brute strength! Match the rhythm of your wings with your speed! You''re not smashing rocks; you''re gliding! Use finesse, not force!" The orc growled but complied, his movements becoming more controlled as he started to gain some semblance of balance. Volk''s attention shifted to an ogre who was floundering near the treetops, his massive frame swinging back and forth like a pendulum. "OGRE! What did I just say about balance?!" Volk bellowed, his voice raw from shouting. "You''re not a wrecking ball! Keep your center of gravity steady! Lean forward, not backward!" The ogre grunted, his face twisted in concentration as he adjusted his posture. Slowly, he began to stabilize, his glider no longer swaying wildly. Another goblin zipped past, his small glider wobbling dangerously as he weaved between bat creatures. Volk watched as the goblin barely avoided a swipe from one of the monsters, his glider tilting so far to one side that he was practically hanging by a thread. "GOBLIN! What are you doing?! That''s not dodging; that''s falling!" Volk roared, his crimson eyes blazing. "Use the air currents to your advantage! Tilt the wings properly, and you won''t have to risk your neck every time something swings at you!" The goblin nodded frantically, adjusting his controls. He managed a sharp turn that sent him soaring upward, narrowly avoiding another attack. But Volk wasn''t satisfied yet. His gaze swept across the battlefield, catching sight of another orc who was swinging wildly at a bat creature, his glider jerking with every strike. "ORC! Have you learned nothing?!" Volk shouted, his voice practically shaking the leaves from the trees. "Your glider isn''t a toy! Stabilize before you attack, or you''ll just end up feeding yourself to those things!" The orc growled in frustration but took a deep breath, steadying his glider before lunging at the bat creature. His blade sliced cleanly through the monster''s wing, sending it plummeting to the ground with a guttural screech. "Better!" Volk barked, nodding in approval. "But next time, aim for the throat. We''re not here to make them suffer; we''re here to win!" Despite the progress, there were still too many errors for Volk''s liking. His voice rose again, cutting through the din like a whip. "ALL OF YOU, LISTEN UP! STOP MOVING LIKE HEADLESS CHICKENS! Watch your surroundings! Coordinate with each other! If one of you falls, it''s your fault for not covering each other''s backs!" The Horde began to respond to his commands, their movements gradually becoming more cohesive. Orcs and goblins paired up, covering each other as they maneuvered through the air. Ogres, though slower, used their size to block incoming bat creatures, giving the smaller fighters room to strike. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of another ogre struggling to ascend. "OGRE! What did I say about momentum?! Stop flapping like you''re drowning and use your weight to your advantage! Push forward, not upward!" The ogre grunted in acknowledgment, his massive glider tilting forward as he gained speed. His movements became more fluid, his bulk cutting through the air like a boulder rolling downhill. Volk allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction before his attention snapped to another goblin who was hesitating mid-air, his small hands trembling as a bat creature closed in on him. "GOBLIN!" Volk roared, his voice sharp with urgency. "DON''T JUST SIT THERE! If you freeze, you die! Move, or strike¡ªdo something! Your life depends on it!" The goblin squeaked, his eyes wide with fear. But Volk''s words seemed to spark something in him. With a shaky breath, the goblin tightened his grip on his dagger and lunged at the bat creature, driving the blade into its chest. The monster let out a piercing screech before tumbling to the ground. "Good!" Volk shouted, his lips curling into a grin. "Now do it again! And this time, don''t look like you''re about to piss yourself!" Slowly but surely, the Horde''s movements began to improve. The goblins became more agile, darting through the air with surprising precision. The orcs started to find their rhythm, their gliders slicing through the sky with increasing control. Even the ogres, cumbersome as they were, began to move with a certain grace, their massive wings propelling them forward with steady power. Volk''s voice softened slightly as he observed the changes, though it still carried the weight of authority. "Yes¡­ that''s it," he muttered under his breath. "You''re finally starting to understand." He stepped back, his sharp gaze scanning the battlefield. The Horde was no longer a chaotic mess of flailing limbs and crashing bodies. They were fighters now¡ªrough around the edges, but fighters nonetheless. A faint smirk played across Volk''s lips as he crossed his arms, his crimson eyes gleaming with pride. "Finally," he muttered, his voice low but filled with satisfaction. "They''re grasping it." Chapter 318 Beration, not celebration The battle against the bat creatures raged on, the air filled with an unsettling mix of screeches and the rhythmic whir of the Horde''s new gliders. Victory felt within reach, but it wasn''t going to come quickly¡ªor easily. Each passing moment was a grind of blood, sweat, and sheer willpower, as the Horde pushed themselves to their limits to adapt and overcome their monstrous foes. Volk stood at the heart of the chaos, his crimson eyes burning with determination. He barked commands, his voice cutting through the cacophony like a blade. "Goblins, flank left! Orcs, cover their ascent! Ogres¡ªkeep the skies clear above them! You''re not here to decorate the ground with your failures!" One of the goblins zipped through the air, his tiny glider spinning erratically as he dodged a bat creature''s talons. His movements were jerky and unrefined, but he managed to stab his dagger into the beast''s leathery wing. The creature let out a guttural shriek before veering off course, slamming into a tree with a sickening CRACK. "Good hit, goblin! Now get back into formation before you''re plucked out of the sky!" Volk barked, pointing toward the center of their aerial ranks. The goblin nodded frantically, his glider wobbling as he darted back into position. An orc let out a battle cry as he drove his blade into the chest of another bat creature, the sheer force of the attack sending the monster spiraling downward. But before the orc could revel in his victory, another bat swooped down from above, its claws raking across his glider. The orc grunted in frustration, struggling to maintain control as his glider wavered dangerously. "ORC!" Volk roared, his voice sharp with urgency. "Pull up! Pull up now, or you''ll crash!" The orc obeyed, yanking on the controls with all his strength. His glider tilted upward just in time to avoid the jagged rocks below, though the strain on his face made it clear how close he''d come to disaster. "Don''t get cocky!" Volk snarled, his eyes narrowing. "One kill doesn''t mean you can let your guard down. Stay sharp, or I''ll personally throw you into the next fight without a glider!" The orc growled in acknowledgment, his grip tightening on the controls as he steeled himself for the next round. Meanwhile, the ogres were proving to be a mixed blessing. Their sheer size and strength made them formidable against the bat creatures, but their lack of agility was a constant problem. One ogre swung his massive club, striking a bat creature mid-air with a resounding BOOM. The beast crumpled under the force of the blow, its body plummeting to the ground like a stone. But another ogre wasn''t so lucky. His glider wobbled precariously as he swung at a bat creature, missing by a wide margin. The momentum of his swing threw him off balance, and his glider tilted dangerously to one side. "OGRE!" Volk shouted, his voice filled with frustration. "What did I say about overcommitting to your swings?! Balance first, attack second! You''re no use to us if you crash into the ground like an idiot!" The ogre grumbled but adjusted his stance, managing to steady himself just as another bat creature swooped toward him. This time, he waited for the right moment before swinging, his club connecting with a satisfying THWACK that sent the beast hurtling into the canopy below. Despite the mounting casualties among the bat creatures, the fight was far from over. The monsters seemed endless, their dark shapes flitting through the air like shadows, their screeches reverberating through the forest. Every time the Horde gained ground, another wave of bats would descend, their talons flashing like blades in the moonlight. Volk clenched his fists, his sharp mind racing as he analyzed the battlefield. He could see the progress his Horde had made¡ªtheir movements were more coordinated now, their strikes more precise¡ªbut there were still too many mistakes, too many openings for the bat creatures to exploit. "GOBLINS! Don''t cluster together! Spread out and use your speed to outmaneuver them!" Volk shouted, his voice laced with urgency. "Orcs, watch the goblins'' backs! If one of them goes down, it''s on you!" The goblins scattered, their gliders weaving through the air like darting swallows. One of them managed to outflank a bat creature, driving a small spear into its side. The beast let out a piercing shriek, thrashing wildly before collapsing into a heap on the forest floor. "Good! Keep at it!" Volk roared, his lips curling into a grim smile. "Show these monsters what happens when they cross the Horde of Lyern!" The tide of battle began to shift. The Horde was no longer just surviving; they were fighting back with growing confidence and skill. The goblins darted through the air like tiny assassins, their blades and spears finding their marks with increasing accuracy. The orcs formed a solid line of defense, their swords and axes cleaving through the bat creatures with brutal efficiency. And the ogres, despite their clumsiness, used their immense strength to devastating effect, their massive weapons smashing through the enemy ranks like battering rams. But the fight wasn''t swift. It was a war of attrition, a test of endurance and determination. Sweat dripped down Volk''s face as he barked command after command, his voice hoarse but unwavering. He could see the exhaustion in his Horde, the strain in their movements, but he also saw their resolve. "Hold the line!" Volk shouted, his voice ringing with authority. "We''ve come too far to lose now! Fight like your lives depend on it¡ªbecause they do!" S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last bat creature fell, its body crumpling to the ground with a dull THUD. The forest fell silent, the air heavy with the scent of blood and sweat. Volk stood tall, his crimson eyes scanning the battlefield. His Horde was battered and bruised, their new gliders covered in scratches and dents, but they were alive. They had fought, they had adapted, and they had won. A faint smirk played across Volk''s lips as he took a deep breath, his chest heaving with exhaustion. "Not bad," he muttered, his voice low but filled with pride. "Not bad at all." As the final bat creature crumpled to the ground with a sickening THUD, the forest fell into an eerie silence. For a brief moment, the Horde stood frozen, their eyes scanning the battlefield, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, as the weight of their victory sank in, a roar of triumph erupted from their ranks. Read exclusive chapters at My Virtual Library Empire The goblins whooped and cheered, their small forms bounding into the air, gliders abandoned on the ground as they celebrated. The orcs slammed their weapons against their shields with thunderous CLANGS, their cries echoing through the forest. Even the ogres, bruised and battered, let out deep, guttural bellows of victory, their massive fists raised high. But just as the jubilation reached its peak, Volk''s booming voice cut through the noise like a blade. "Silence!" he bellowed, his crimson eyes blazing as he stepped forward. The cheering faltered, and the Horde quickly fell quiet, their triumphant expressions fading under Volk''s glare. "Celebrate?" Volk spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think this calls for celebration? Look around you!" He gestured sharply toward the battlefield, littered with the shattered remains of gliders, broken weapons, and the bloodied bodies of both the bat creatures and his own Horde. "This wasn''t smooth. This wasn''t efficient. This was a mess!" The goblins, who had been practically glowing with pride moments earlier, now shrank back, their wide eyes darting to the ground. The orcs exchanged uneasy glances, and the ogres shifted uncomfortably, their massive frames hunched as if trying to shrink under Volk''s withering gaze. "You call this progress?" Volk continued, his voice rising with fury. "You were sloppy! Uncoordinated! Half of you didn''t even know where you were supposed to be, let alone how to execute an effective attack!" He turned sharply to one of the goblins, whose face was smeared with soot and whose glider was missing a wing. "You," Volk snapped, his tone icy. "How many times did I tell you to maintain formation? Do you even know the meaning of the word?!" The goblin stammered, his small hands wringing together nervously. "I¡ªI thought¡ª" "You thought wrong!" Volk barked, cutting him off. "You broke formation three times, and each time you almost got yourself killed. If the enemy had been stronger, you''d be nothing more than a smear on the ground!" He turned to an orc next, his eyes narrowing. "And you! What in the gods'' names were you doing? Swinging blindly at anything that moved? You''re not an ogre, you fool! Use your head or lose it!" The orc''s jaw tightened, but he nodded stiffly, his face flushed with shame. Volk paced in front of the Horde, his crimson eyes scanning each member with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. "You want to celebrate? Fine. Celebrate when you''ve earned it. Celebrate when your movements are precise, when your formations are unbreakable, when your enemies don''t even have a chance to lay a claw on you before they''re dead at your feet. That''s when you celebrate. Not now." The Horde stood in tense silence, their heads bowed as Volk''s words sank in. After a moment, Volk let out a heavy sigh, his expression softening slightly. "But," he said, his tone calmer now, "you fought. You endured. And you survived. That means something. It means you have potential. But potential isn''t enough." He straightened, his crimson eyes blazing once more. "We''re not here to scrape by. We''re here to dominate. To conquer. To be the force that every creature fears when they see us coming. And if you want to be that force, then you''ll need to be better. Much better." The Horde nodded, their expressions a mixture of determination and shame. "Good," Volk said, his voice firm. "Now pick up your gear, repair your gliders, and prepare for the next fight. There''s no rest for the weak, and right now, you''re all still weak." As the Horde dispersed to carry out his orders, Volk stood alone for a moment, his sharp mind already analyzing the battle. He knew they had made progress¡ªhowever rough and unrefined¡ªbut it wasn''t enough. Not yet. Not until every movement, every strike, was flawless. The sound of hammers on metal and the murmurs of the Horde filled the air as they began their work, and Volk allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. They would get there. He would make sure of it. . Chapter 319 My hunt As Volk strode ahead of the Horde, his sharp, crimson eyes swept across the rugged terrain, scanning for any movement in the dense underbrush or atop the jagged cliffs. The forest was alive with the sounds of nature¡ªcrickets chirping, wind rustling through the treetops, and distant calls of nocturnal predators. But beneath these natural sounds, Volk detected something else: the faint crunch of heavy paws against the undergrowth and the guttural snarls of predators marking their territory. He raised a hand, signaling the Horde to stop. Their armor clinked softly as they halted, weapons ready but still. Volk motioned for silence, and the Horde obeyed, their gazes following his as he fixed his attention on a shadowy clearing ahead. There, illuminated by streaks of pale moonlight, were three hulking beasts. Their forms were massive, each standing nearly twice the height of an ogre, with sinewy limbs rippling under thick, matted fur. Their heads were wolf-like but distorted, with elongated snouts lined with jagged teeth that gleamed even in the faint light. Their eyes glowed an unnatural yellow, and each movement they made exuded a terrifying, predatory grace. Volk crouched low, narrowing his eyes to focus on the creatures. One of them¡ªa pack leader, he presumed¡ªstood taller than the others, its fur darker and its posture more confident. It sniffed the air, the ridges along its snout flaring as if it had caught their scent. The beast let out a low growl, the sound reverberating through the clearing like a warning bell. The other two flanked it, their bodies hunched and coiled like springs ready to launch. Their claws dug into the earth with each step, leaving deep gouges in the soil. Volk noted their patterns¡ªhow they moved in sync, circling their leader but never crossing its path. These were not mindless beasts; they were organized, intelligent predators. The pack seemed to be guarding something. In the center of the clearing lay a carcass¡ªlarge, perhaps a stag or a boar. The meat was partially devoured, its bones picked clean in some places but still dripping with fresh blood in others. Around it, the earth was littered with scraps of fur and shards of bone, evidence of the beasts'' recent feast. Volk''s mind raced as he observed. He could see the tension in their movements, the way their muscles tensed and relaxed, as if they were ready to defend their meal at a moment''s notice. Their eyes scanned the perimeter, sharp and calculating. These were apex predators, confident in their strength, but Volk also saw their vulnerability. They were focused on the clearing, their attention centered on the carcass and any potential threats to their prize. Volk turned slightly, glancing back at his Horde. They stood ready, weapons in hand, but he raised his hand again, signaling them to stay put. "Stand by," he whispered, his voice barely audible yet firm. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The orcs exchanged glances, their hands tightening around the hilts of their weapons. One of the ogres shifted his massive weight, causing the ground to tremble slightly. Volk shot him a sharp glare, and the ogre froze, his expression sheepish. Volk turned back to the clearing, his mind already formulating a plan. These beasts were dangerous, yes, but not invincible. Their strength lay in their coordination, their ability to work as a unit. If he could disrupt that, he could exploit their weaknesses. Still crouched, Volk adjusted the gauntlets on his hands, the faint hum of magic emanating from the runes etched into the metal. The Horde behind him watched in silence, their expressions a mix of awe and anticipation. "Wait here," Volk said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This is my hunt." The goblins exchanged nervous glances, their small hands fidgeting with their tools. One of them opened his mouth to protest, but an orc quickly silenced him with a firm hand on his shoulder. They all knew better than to question Volk when he spoke like that. Volk straightened, stepping forward with the measured grace of a predator himself. His boots made no sound against the forest floor as he approached the clearing. The beasts hadn''t noticed him yet, their attention still focused on their meal and the surrounding shadows. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, his crimson eyes narrowing as he studied them one last time. The pack leader''s ears twitched, and its head jerked up, its glowing eyes locking onto Volk. A low growl escaped its throat, and the other two beasts immediately turned toward him, their bodies lowering into defensive stances. Volk smirked, his gauntleted hand flexing as he prepared to engage. "Let''s see what you''re made of," he murmured under his breath. The pack leader let out a deafening roar, its muscles coiling as it prepared to charge. The other two beasts followed suit, their snarls filling the air as they lunged toward Volk with terrifying speed. Behind him, the Horde watched in tense silence, their breaths held as their leader faced the monstrous predators alone. As the beasts lunged toward Volk, their claws raking the air with deadly precision, he moved. His body blurred, vanishing in a shimmer of light just as the pack leader''s jaws snapped shut where his neck had been. SHOOM! He reappeared a few paces to the side, his gauntleted fists already crackling with energy. Without hesitation, he drove his palm forward, unleashing a concussive blast that struck one of the smaller beasts square in the side. BOOM! The force sent the creature sprawling, its massive body crashing into a nearby tree with a sickening crunch. The pack leader howled in fury, its golden eyes blazing with rage. It charged again, its powerful limbs tearing through the soil as it closed the distance in seconds. But Volk had already teleported. FWOOSH! He reappeared behind the beast, his crimson eyes gleaming with calculated intent. "You''re fast," Volk muttered, "but not fast enough." The second beast lunged at him from his blind side, its claws extended and glinting in the pale moonlight. Volk didn''t turn to face it. Instead, he simply shifted his weight, vanishing just as the creature''s claws sliced through empty air. He reappeared atop a nearby boulder, surveying the chaos with calm precision. The smaller beast he had struck earlier was back on its feet, snarling as it shook off the blow. Its companion joined it, and together they flanked the pack leader, their eyes locked onto Volk with animalistic hatred. The three beasts moved in unison, spreading out in an attempt to corner him. Volk smiled faintly. "Clever," he muttered. They charged simultaneously, their massive forms barreling toward him like unstoppable forces of nature. Volk waited until the last possible moment, his gaze sharp and unyielding. Then, just as their claws and fangs descended upon him, he vanished again. WHOOSH! Experience exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire Reappearing in the center of the clearing, Volk extended his hands outward. The runes on his gauntlets flared to life, and arcs of crimson energy surged from his palms, lashing out like whips. CRACK! CRACK! The energy struck the nearest beast, wrapping around its limbs and dragging it to the ground. It howled in pain, thrashing wildly as Volk tightened his grip, the energy burning through its thick hide. The pack leader roared, leaping over its fallen comrade to reach Volk. Its claws swiped at his torso, the blow powerful enough to shatter stone. But once again, Volk was gone. ZAP! He reappeared behind the pack leader, slamming his gauntleted fist into the back of its head with a resounding THUD! The creature stumbled forward, shaking its massive head as if trying to clear the stars from its vision. "You''re strong," Volk said, his voice calm but laced with menace. "But brute strength isn''t enough." The two smaller beasts regrouped, charging at Volk with renewed ferocity. They coordinated their attacks this time, one striking high while the other lunged low. Volk sidestepped the first, his movements almost too fast to follow, and teleported just as the second beast''s jaws snapped shut where his leg had been. Reappearing a few feet away, he raised his hand, releasing a concentrated blast of energy that tore through the smaller beast''s shoulder. BOOM! The creature screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground with blood pouring from its wound. The pack leader, now enraged, roared so loudly that the trees shook. It charged Volk head-on, its claws glowing faintly with an eerie golden light. Volk narrowed his eyes, sensing a shift in the beast''s power. This wasn''t blind fury anymore¡ªit was a calculated, final attempt to take him down. The leader''s claws descended toward Volk in a blur of motion. For a moment, it seemed impossible for even Volk to avoid the attack. But just as the claws were about to connect, Volk teleported, reappearing directly above the beast. "Enough," he said coldly. With both hands, Volk unleashed a massive surge of energy directly onto the pack leader''s head. KA-THOOM! The blast engulfed the beast in a crimson explosion, its roar turning into a gurgled cry as it collapsed under the weight of the attack. The remaining beast, seeing its leader fall, hesitated. Its glowing eyes flicked between Volk and its fallen comrades, the primal instinct to survive warring with its loyalty to the pack. Volk gave it no time to decide. In a single motion, he raised his hand and released another burst of energy. ZAP! The blast struck the creature in the chest, sending it hurtling backward into a tree. Its body went limp, sliding to the ground with a heavy thud. For a moment, the clearing was silent, save for the faint crackle of energy dissipating from Volk''s gauntlets. He stood amidst the carnage, his crimson eyes scanning the fallen beasts to ensure none of them would rise again. One by one, the creatures let out their final, labored breaths, their massive forms going still. Volk exhaled slowly, lowering his hands as the runes on his gauntlets dimmed. Behind him, the Horde erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the forest. But Volk didn''t join them. His gaze remained fixed on the pack leader''s lifeless body, a faint frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Too predictable," he muttered to himself. Turning back toward the Horde, he raised a hand to silence their cheers. "The beasts have fallen," he said, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "But don''t celebrate yet. I only dealt with them so all of you could rest." Chapter 320 Real threat As the Horde began to settle down, exhaustion finally overtaking their adrenaline, they prepared to rest. Ogres, orcs, and even the newly-joined goblins sprawled across the clearing, some leaning against trees while others simply collapsed on the soft forest floor. The air was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, the occasional grunt, and the low hum of wind rustling through the trees. Volk leaned against a boulder, his crimson eyes scanning the dark horizon. His gauntlets rested in his lap, still faintly glowing from the battle, though their energy was now calm. He had no intention of relaxing¡ªnot yet. Though the beasts were defeated, something about the way they moved and attacked lingered in his mind. They had been organized, perhaps unnaturally so. Suddenly, the low murmurs of the Horde began to shift. Whispers turned into chuckles, and chuckles grew into bursts of laughter. One of the orcs, a burly figure with jagged armor, slapped his knee and called out, "Did you see him earlier? The way he vanished and reappeared like a shadow! I swear, I thought the beast had swallowed him at one point, and then¡ªpoof!¡ªhe''s behind it, blasting its hide off!" Another orc chimed in, his rough voice brimming with awe, "Too fast, I tell you! One moment he''s there, the next he''s gone. How does someone move like that?" An ogre, lying on his side and gnawing on the remains of a roasted leg from earlier, pointed a massive finger toward Volk. "You must teach us! Or at least tell us your trick. No one moves like that unless they''ve got something hidden!" Volk''s lips twitched into a faint smile, though he tried to suppress it. He shifted his weight and folded his arms, pretending to ignore the growing excitement around him. But it was impossible not to hear them as their voices grew louder, their spirits high despite their earlier exhaustion. "I bet it''s magic!" one of the goblins piped up, his small frame practically vibrating with energy. "You all saw those flashes of light! And the way the big beast couldn''t even touch him¡ªmagic for sure!" "That''s what it is," Volk finally said, his voice low but carrying enough weight to silence the chatter for a moment. The Horde turned to look at him, their eyes gleaming with curiosity and respect. "It''s just magic. Nothing more, nothing less." The words were meant to downplay his abilities, but instead, they only fueled the Horde''s amazement. "Just magic?" one of the orcs repeated, his tusks glinting as he grinned. "You''re too modest, Chief. That was no ordinary spellwork. If we could all do what you did, there wouldn''t be a creature alive to stand in our way!" Another round of laughter rippled through the group, and Volk, despite himself, couldn''t help but chuckle along. He leaned back against the boulder, his usually sharp demeanor softening ever so slightly. For once, he let himself enjoy the moment. The celebration slowly began to unfold. Someone pulled out a skin of mead, passing it around until it reached even the smallest goblins. The ogres started a rhythmic beat, pounding their fists on the ground like drums, while the orcs roared out songs of victory in their guttural tongue. Even the goblins joined in, their high-pitched voices a strange but endearing harmony to the deeper tones of the larger warriors. Volk found himself at the center of their praises. "Chief, tell us! How do you move so fast? Can you teach us?" "Were you born with magic, or did you learn it from some ancient wizard?" "Chief, when you vanished, I thought you had left us to fight alone¡ªbut then you were everywhere at once! Ha!" Volk raised his hand to quiet them, though his expression was uncharacteristically warm. "Enough. It''s not as grand as you think. I''ve simply... trained." This only prompted more laughter. "Trained to teleport? That''s rich!" "It''s true," Volk said, smirking faintly. "Years of practice. Dedication. A bit of luck. And maybe just a pinch of raw talent." The Horde erupted into another round of cheers and laughter. One of the goblins scampered up to Volk, his wide eyes gleaming with awe. "Can you show us again, Chief? The disappearing thing? Just one more time!" Volk sighed, though there was no real irritation in it. "Perhaps tomorrow," he said, waving the goblin away. "For now, rest. We''ve all earned it." But the Horde was in no mood to sleep. The ogres had started arm wrestling, their roars of triumph shaking the very ground. The orcs were sparring in mock battles, their axes clashing in a display of brute strength. The goblins, always resourceful, were darting around collecting shiny stones and discarded trinkets, chattering excitedly about building something with their newfound treasures. Volk watched it all, a strange sense of pride swelling in his chest. This was his Horde. Chaotic, loud, and utterly unpredictable. But they were his. And though he would never admit it out loud, their celebration warmed something deep within him. For tonight, at least, he would let them have their victory where they could finally feel at ease on dealing with the threat from the sky. ¡­ The night was calm, but Volk''s senses, honed through years of battles and survival, stirred him from sleep. At first, it was faint¡ªa subtle whisper in the wind that brushed past his cheek like an unseen hand. He shifted slightly, his eyes still closed, but the sensation only grew. The air felt different, charged, as though the forest itself was holding its breath. Volk frowned in his sleep, his instincts battling his exhaustion. The distant rustling of leaves seemed almost intentional, like a melody played just out of tune. His brows furrowed, and he rolled onto his side, gripping the ground beneath him. The cool earth did nothing to quell the feeling that something was watching, waiting. And then, the wind shifted again, carrying with it an unfamiliar scent. It was subtle, almost indistinguishable from the earthy aroma of the forest, but it carried a strange undertone¡ªfeathers and something faintly metallic. Volk''s crimson eyes snapped open. He didn''t move immediately, his body rigid as he listened. The distant sounds of his Horde sleeping surrounded him, their snores and grunts blending into the night''s natural symphony. Yet above it all, there was something else. A flutter. A faint, rhythmic sound carried by the breeze, so soft it almost blended with the rustle of leaves. Slowly, Volk sat up, his movements deliberate and silent. His gaze shifted to the treetops, scanning the darkness. The night sky stretched above him, speckled with stars, but something moved among them. Shadows danced against the moonlight, obscured by the thick canopy. He rose to his feet, his boots pressing soundlessly into the ground. His hand instinctively reached for his blade, though he didn''t unsheathe it. Instead, he stepped away from the slumbering Horde, his head tilting toward the sky. The wind whispered again, this time colder, and Volk''s sharp eyes caught it¡ªa fleeting shape cutting through the clouds. "A bird?" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. But no ordinary bird could stir the air like this. No ordinary bird could carry this weight in its presence. Find more chapters on My Virtual Library Empire He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through the shadows as another shape emerged. The faint glint of moonlight reflected off feathers, massive wings cutting through the sky with a grace that seemed almost supernatural. Volk''s breath hitched as he took a step forward, his boots crunching against a stray twig. The sound seemed deafening in the quiet night, but the bird didn''t react. It was too high, circling above the forest like a silent predator. He followed its movements, his neck craning as it dipped and rose, its silhouette blending seamlessly with the clouds. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed more. Another shape. And another. "How many...?" Volk whispered, his voice trailing off. The birds weren''t just circling. They were searching. Their movements were too precise, too calculated. The air grew heavier as realization struck him¡ªthese were no ordinary creatures. The largest bird swooped low for a moment, just enough for Volk to catch a glimpse of its piercing, glowing eyes. His stomach twisted. Those weren''t the eyes of a beast. They were intelligent, calculating. He took another step forward, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. The wind picked up again, swirling around him, carrying the sound of feathers cutting through the air. It was deafening now, a constant rhythm that seemed to echo in his chest. "Another sky people?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze sharpened, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. The largest bird tilted its wings, shifting direction as it dipped lower. For a fleeting moment, Volk saw it clearly. Its feathers were dark, almost black, with faint patterns that shimmered like silver under the moonlight. Its beak was curved and sharp, and its talons glinted like forged steel. But it wasn''t just a bird. It couldn''t be. There was something humanoid in its shape, the way its head turned as if scanning the ground below. The realization hit Volk like a blow to the chest. "Owl people?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of wings slicing through the air. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The thought settled heavily in his mind, his instincts screaming at him to prepare. These creatures weren''t here by coincidence. They were searching for something¡ªor someone. Volk''s jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving the sky as the largest bird let out a low, haunting cry. It echoed through the forest, chilling in its resonance, and Volk''s hand tightened on his sword. He didn''t know what they were after, but he was certain of one thing. They were a threat. Chapter 321 Wake up! Volk''s eyes narrowed as the unsettling presence of the winged figures above continued to stir the unease in his chest. The faint, rhythmic sound of beating wings grew louder, drilling into his ears. His jaw clenched, and he turned abruptly toward his Horde. "GET UP!" Volk''s voice roared through the night like a crashing thunderclap, reverberating off the trees. The sharpness of his tone shattered the stillness, cutting through the snores and groans of his slumbering warriors. "WAKE UP, YOU SLOTHFUL DOGS! GET TO YOUR FEET RIGHT NOW!" Some stirred sluggishly, rolling over on the uneven ground, groaning as if swatting away an imagined fly. Others blinked groggily, their eyes barely open, uncomprehending. Volk''s patience, already thin, snapped further. "I SAID WAKE UP!" His voice was raw with fury, loud enough to rattle the loose stones on the forest floor. He stomped forward, kicking at a nearby ogre who remained sprawled on the ground. "You think you can sleep through this? YOU THINK THIS IS THE TIME FOR DREAMING? DO YOU WANT TO DIE WHERE YOU LIE? GET UP! NOW!" A few members of the Horde scrambled to their feet, their movements jerky and uncoordinated. Weapons clanged as they fumbled for their gear, still half-asleep and confused. "MOVE!" Volk snarled, his crimson eyes flaring in the darkness. "THIS IS NOT A DRILL! THIS IS NOT A DREAM! THERE''S SOMETHING OUT THERE, CIRCLING ABOVE US! YOU''D BEST BE READY, OR YOU''LL BE THE FIRST TO FALL!" Nearby, an orc yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Volk stalked over, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him upright. "DID YOU NOT HEAR ME, YOU LUMBERING FOOL? OR DO YOU NEED ME TO SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU? GET. UP. NOW!" A commotion began to ripple through the camp. Some members of the Horde scrambled in panic, tripping over themselves as they rushed to grab their weapons and armor. Others moved more calmly, their faces stoic as they checked their gear with practiced efficiency. Volk''s voice rose above the chaos, a relentless storm of commands. "YOU! GRAB YOUR SPEAR AND CHECK THE PERIMETER! YOU THERE, GET THE TORCHES LIT! I WANT LIGHT¡ªBRIGHT ENOUGH TO BURN OUT THE STARS!" A goblin scurried past, clutching a shield almost too large for its frame. Volk bellowed at him, his voice like the crack of a whip. "DON''T JUST RUN IN CIRCLES, YOU PATHETIC WHELP! TAKE YOUR POSITION! EVERYONE¡ªFORM RANKS! I WANT DISCIPLINE, NOT THIS SLOPPY CHAOS!" Despite his fury, some of the Horde remained oblivious, still curled up and snoring loudly. Volk''s eyes narrowed dangerously as he marched over to the worst offenders. "YOU DARE TO SLEEP WHILE THE ENEMY CIRCLES ABOVE?!" he roared, kicking over a makeshift bedding pile. The ogre sleeping there jerked awake, his eyes wide with confusion. "I''LL TEAR YOUR DREAMS APART IF YOU DON''T STAND UP THIS INSTANT! MOVE, OR I''LL DRAG YOU TO YOUR FEET MYSELF!" A goblin muttered something incoherent in its sleep, rolling over to face away from Volk. His patience snapped entirely. He grabbed a nearby helmet and hurled it at the offending goblin''s head. CLANG! The sound rang out, and the goblin shot upright with a yelp, clutching its skull. "YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?" Volk shouted, his voice seething with rage. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP, ALL OF YOU! I''LL NOT HAVE MY HORDE CAUGHT UNAWARES BECAUSE OF YOUR LAZINESS!" Finally, the entire Horde began to stir. Some were still sluggish, rubbing their eyes as they staggered to their feet. Others, more alert, snapped into formation, their weapons gleaming in the flickering torchlight. "DO YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?" Volk continued, pacing through the camp like a raging storm. "OUT THERE, IN THE SKY, SOMETHING WATCHES US! SOMETHING HUNTS US! YOU THINK IT WILL WAIT FOR YOU TO ROLL OUT OF BED AND RUB THE SLEEP FROM YOUR EYES? YOU''D BEST BE READY, OR YOU''LL BE NOTHING MORE THAN A MEAL FOR WHATEVER''S OUT THERE!" An orc, still dazed, dropped his shield as he scrambled to strap on his armor. Volk rounded on him immediately. "PICK THAT UP! NOW! IF YOU CAN''T HOLD YOUR WEAPON, YOU''RE BETTER OFF DIGGING YOUR OWN GRAVE!" He turned to address the entire Horde, his voice booming over the din. "THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING! BE READY, OR BE DEAD! I WON''T TOLERATE WEAKNESS, AND NEITHER WILL THE ENEMY!" The Horde was finally beginning to organize, their movements more coordinated as they formed ranks and checked their weapons. But Volk wasn''t done. He continued to shout, his voice a relentless hammer driving nails into their ears. "EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU WILL BE READY!" he bellowed. "IF I SEE ONE MORE OF YOU LAGGING BEHIND, YOU''LL ANSWER TO ME PERSONALLY! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" A chorus of hurried affirmations rose from the Horde, their voices a mix of fear and determination. "I CAN''T HEAR YOU!" Volk roared. "LOUDER!" "YES, CHIEF!" they shouted, their voices echoing through the forest. Satisfied but still bristling with tension, Volk stalked back to the center of the camp. His crimson eyes flicked to the sky, scanning for any sign of the figures that had been circling above. The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the faint, ominous sound of wings. He turned back to his Horde, his voice low but no less commanding. "Stay sharp. Stay alive. Whatever''s out there, we''ll face it together. But make no mistake¡ªthere''s no room for mistakes. Not tonight." Meanwhile, the formation was completed, and the Horde stood in uneasy silence, the atmosphere tense and charged as the wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the trees around them. The once comforting darkness of the night now felt oppressive, the flickering torchlight casting dancing shadows on the ground. Some warriors shifted uneasily on their feet, clutching their weapons tighter as a feeling of being watched crept over them like a predator stalking prey. It was subtle at first¡ªa flicker in the corner of a goblin''s vision, a darting shadow against the treetops. A low murmur began to ripple through the group. "Did you see that?" one goblin whispered, his voice trembling as his wide eyes scanned the canopy above. An orc snarled, baring his teeth as he glared at the nervous goblin. "Quiet, runt! You''ll scare yourself to death before anything comes for you." Yet, even as he spoke, his grip on his axe tightened, his eyes darting upward. The torches seemed dimmer now, their light failing to reach the heights of the trees or the cloudy sky above. Something was wrong. The darkness was no longer still; it seemed alive, shifting and swirling like a living thing. And then they saw it¡ªa fleeting shadow, moving too fast to pinpoint. "There! Did you see that?" another goblin hissed, pointing upward with a shaking finger. "Shut it!" an ogre growled, his deep voice carrying authority. But even he couldn''t hide the unease in his tone. His eyes, usually filled with confidence, flickered with uncertainty as he scanned the heavens. More shadows appeared, darting between the treetops, blending into the inky blackness. They weren''t shapes the Horde could easily describe¡ªwinged figures, gliding silently through the night, their outlines blurring with the movement of the clouds. Enjoy exclusive content from My Virtual Library Empire "They''re circling us," a goblin whispered, barely audible over the sound of the wind. The observation sent a ripple of fear through the group. Whispers turned to murmurs, and murmurs grew into a low rumble of unease. The Horde was a force to be reckoned with on the ground, but the skies were unfamiliar, unreachable. The thought of an enemy above, unseen and untouchable, set their nerves on edge. "What are they waiting for?" an orc muttered, his voice a growl of frustration. He swung his axe experimentally, as though trying to dispel the feeling of helplessness. "Could be scouts," another warrior said, his tone grim. "Could be sizing us up." The shadows grew bolder, swooping lower now, their silhouettes just barely visible against the faint light of the clouds. A goblin yelped and ducked as one passed overhead, its wingspan wide and imposing. "They''re watching us," one goblin whimpered, clutching his spear so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "They''re hunting us." "Enough!" the ogre barked, his deep voice cutting through the growing panic. "Hold your ground! They''re just birds¡ªnothing we can''t handle!" Yet, even as he spoke, his eyes flicked nervously to the sky. The shadows above weren''t just birds. They were too coordinated, too purposeful in their movements. Whatever they were, they were waiting for something. The Horde''s unity began to falter as the sense of vulnerability settled over them. The ground warriors were accustomed to combat against things they could see and strike. This¡­ this was different. The enemy above moved in the shadows, unseen and unreachable, their presence a constant reminder of the Horde''s limitations. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "They''re testing us," an older goblin murmured, his voice low and grim. "Waiting to see if we''ll break." But they wouldn''t break. Not with Volk among them. As the Horde shifted uneasily, their gazes drifted toward their leader. His crimson eyes burned in the dark, scanning the skies with an intensity that seemed to pierce the night itself. His presence was like an anchor, a reminder that even in the face of the unknown, they had a leader who would guide them through. Still, the shadows continued to circle, their movements a silent mockery of the Horde''s helplessness. Every warrior''s eyes were on the skies now, weapons ready, hearts pounding. Soon enough, a shadow from the sky slowly fluttered down. Chapter 322 Be prepared The wind stilled for a moment, the oppressive tension giving way to an eerie silence. Every warrior in the Horde froze as a figure descended from the sky, its massive wings beating against the air with a deep, rhythmic whoosh. The torches flickered violently as the creature landed gracefully on the edge of their gathering, its talons gripping the rocky ground with unnerving precision. It was unlike anything they had seen before. The being stood tall, its humanoid frame clad in sleek, feathered armor that shimmered faintly in the torchlight. Its face was distinctly owl-like, with large, piercing eyes that seemed to see through flesh and bone. A hooked beak glinted under the faint light, curved in what might have been a mocking smirk. Its plumage was a mix of silvery grays and blacks, blending perfectly with the night, and its wings, now folded against its back, radiated an aura of quiet power. The Horde tensed. Weapons were drawn, claws flexed, and the goblins held their breath as the owl-being surveyed them with a mixture of disdain and amusement. "Interesting," the figure began, its voice smooth and lilting, dripping with condescension. "An orc, ogres, and goblins¡­ all marching under one banner. Such a curious sight. I must say, your preparedness is¡­ commendable." The Horde bristled at the mocking edge in his tone, but no one dared to act without Volk''s word. The owl-being''s eyes swept across the assembled warriors, lingering briefly on the ogres'' hulking forms before settling on the smaller, scrappy goblins. It tilted its head to the side, as though studying a peculiar insect. "How quaint," it continued, taking a step forward. Its talons scraped against the ground, sending a shrill skreee through the tense air. "To think that such a rabble could stand together, let alone face what lurks above." A low growl rumbled through the Horde, but it was Volk who stepped forward, his crimson eyes blazing. The owl-being''s gaze snapped to him instantly, and something in its demeanor shifted. The smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of irritation. Then, just as quickly, the mocking grin returned. "And there he is," the owl-being said, spreading its wings slightly, as if to emphasize its dominance. "The leader of this little band of misfits." It let out a soft chuckle, a sound that sent chills through the Horde. "I must admit, I didn''t mean to startle your¡­ charming group. Nor do I come with any grand intention to oppose you. But you¡­" It jabbed a taloned finger in Volk''s direction. Volk narrowed his eyes but said nothing, his stance steady and unyielding. "There''s something about your existence," the owl-being continued, its tone shifting to one of disdain. "It irritates me. That face of yours. That presence. It''s¡­ how shall I put it? An offense to my senses." The Horde shifted uneasily. The goblins exchanged nervous glances, and even the ogres glanced at each other, their usual confidence shaken. Volk stood unmoving, his gaze locked on the creature before him. The owl-being tilted its head again, the mocking smirk growing wider. "Perhaps taking your life would be enough to rid me of this irritation. A simple act of cleansing. Yes¡­ I think that would do nicely." It spread its wings suddenly, the motion sending a powerful gust of wind through the camp. Several goblins staggered backward, shielding their faces from the blast. "But don''t look so worried," the owl-being said with a laugh, its voice echoing through the night like the cry of a predator. "I''ll give you time to prepare. Consider this my generosity." Stay connected through My Virtual Library Empire Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It flapped its wings once, lifting itself off the ground in a smooth, effortless motion. The Horde tensed, some raising their weapons instinctively, but the owl-being only hovered above them, its piercing gaze sweeping over the group one last time. "Oh, and one more thing," it called out, its tone dripping with mockery. "Try not to embarrass yourselves too much. It would be such a shame for all this effort to amount to nothing." With that, the creature threw its head back and let out a mocking laugh, the sound echoing into the night as it soared higher into the sky. Its silhouette disappeared into the clouds, leaving only the faint rustle of its wings and the lingering sting of its words. The Horde stood in stunned silence, their breaths uneven, their grips tightening on their weapons. For a moment, no one spoke. All eyes turned to Volk, waiting for his command, for his reaction. But Volk stood still, his crimson eyes fixed on the sky where the owl-being had vanished. The camp was quiet. The tension from the owl-being''s departure had settled into a tense buzz among the Horde. Though the warriors were prepared, their weapons sharp and their formations disciplined, the night itself began to shift. At first, it was subtle¡ªso faint that it barely registered to most. The wind, which had been steadily brushing against their skin, rustling the sparse foliage, and carrying the faint smells of earth and battle, began to lose its presence. The change was so gradual that it seemed almost natural. A gust that would have once brushed past an ogre''s face slowed into a mere breath. The goblins, ever sensitive to their environment, tilted their heads in confusion. One even muttered, "Strange¡­ it''s too still." But their murmurs were drowned out by the disciplined clinking of armor as they checked and rechecked their equipment. Volk stood at the center of the camp, his crimson eyes scanning the horizon. The eerie silence clawed at his senses. It wasn''t just the absence of wind. The night itself seemed to grow heavier, oppressive, and unnatural. The usual sounds of nocturnal creatures¡ªthe chirps of insects, the occasional rustle of hidden animals¡ªfaded into an eerie void. It was as if the world around them was holding its breath. The goblins were the first to truly notice the change. They looked to one another, their large eyes darting about nervously. One tugged at the hem of another''s tunic and whispered, "Do you feel that?" "Feel what?" the second goblin replied, though his voice was barely audible. "The air," the first one said, voice trembling. "It''s¡­ wrong." Even the ogres, typically unconcerned with subtleties, began to shift uneasily. One of the larger ones grunted, his deep voice breaking the stillness, "Feels¡­ empty." Volk''s gaze sharpened. His instincts, honed through countless battles and encounters, screamed at him to pay attention. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the air around him. The wind that had once danced around his skin was gone, replaced by a hollow, static stillness. Even his breath seemed to hang heavier in his chest, as though the atmosphere itself was thickening. "Leader," one of the orcs called out hesitantly, breaking through the silence. "Something''s not right." Volk turned, his expression grim. "I know." His voice was firm, but within, a gnawing unease took hold. He raised a hand to silence the growing murmurs of his Horde. The goblins clustered together, their small forms trembling slightly. One of the younger ones clung to a nearby ogre''s leg, seeking some semblance of safety. The ogre, for once, didn''t brush the goblin off. Instead, he stared into the distance, his usual bravado replaced with a quiet apprehension. The stillness grew more pronounced. The faintest echoes of sound¡ªthe scrape of metal, the shifting of armor¡ªfelt deafening against the eerie quiet. The air, once alive with the vibrancy of nature, felt stagnant. It pressed against their skin like an invisible weight. A goblin dropped his spear accidentally, the clatter reverberating like thunder in the unnaturally silent night. Everyone turned to the source, their eyes wide with tension, as though the sound itself had drawn the attention of something unseen. Volk''s jaw tightened. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. The realization struck him like a hammer blow. This wasn''t a natural stillness. It was deliberate. It was the kind of quiet that preceded an ambush, the moment of calm before a storm. The Horde felt it too. Their uneasy shuffling slowed to a standstill as the oppressive atmosphere settled over them. Their instincts, sharpened from years of survival and battle, screamed at them to be ready. The goblins gripped their weapons tightly, their knuckles white. The orcs and ogres squared their shoulders, their eyes darting to Volk for guidance. A low whistle from one of the orcs broke the silence. "The wind," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Where''s the wind?" Volk''s crimson eyes narrowed. The realization hit him fully now. The wind wasn''t just absent¡ªit was stolen. The air had been claimed by something. His thoughts raced. This couldn''t be a coincidence. The owl-being''s earlier visit, the eerie stillness¡­ it all felt connected. He turned to face his Horde, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. "This isn''t natural," he said, his tone sharp and commanding. "Something is here." The Horde braced themselves, their formations tightening instinctively. Even the goblins, who had been cowering moments ago, straightened their backs. Volk tilted his head to the sky, his eyes scanning the dark expanse above. The clouds hung low, their edges faintly illuminated by the moonlight, but nothing moved. Not a single bird, not even the faintest shadow of a predator. The silence felt deafening now, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Then he saw it¡ªa faint, flickering movement far above, hidden within the swirling clouds. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Volk''s sharp eyes caught it. His heart quickened. "Be prepared!" Volk''s voice erupted, shattering the fragile stillness. It echoed through the camp, his powerful command cutting through the tension like a war drum. Some of the Horde jumped at his sudden shout, their nerves already frayed. The ogres and orcs immediately drew their weapons, their eyes scanning the darkness. The goblins huddled closer together, their small frames shaking but their weapons ready. "Get up!" Volk bellowed again, his voice rising to a roar. "Form ranks! This isn''t a drill! I want every single one of you ready for battle!" The Horde scrambled to obey. Weapons were drawn, armor adjusted, and formations snapped into place. The goblins scurried to the edges, their bows and daggers at the ready. The orcs and ogres formed a solid wall of muscle and steel at the front, their eyes blazing with determination. Volk''s gaze returned to the sky. The faint flicker of movement was gone, swallowed by the oppressive darkness. But he knew better than to trust the silence. Something was coming. Chapter 323 Sky become ours The air exploded with movement as the owl people swooped down from the heavens, their wings slicing through the stillness. They moved with precision and arrogance, their mocking laughter echoing through the camp like a chorus of disdainful crows. "You fools!" one of the owl people cried, his voice sharp and high-pitched, carried effortlessly by the thinning wind. "You think your crude weapons and lumbering forms can match us in the skies? Stay grounded, where you belong!" Another swooped lower, his sharp talons grazing dangerously close to the heads of the goblins. "Pathetic!" he sneered, pulling up sharply into the air and performing a taunting loop. "You''ll never touch us!" The Horde bristled under the verbal barrage, their grips tightening on their weapons. Volk, however, stood calmly in the center of the chaos, his crimson eyes following the owl people''s every move. A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The owl people, emboldened by their perceived superiority, grew bolder. One lingered in mid-air, his wings flapping leisurely as he hovered over the Horde. His eyes gleamed with smug amusement as he surveyed the orcs, ogres, and goblins below. "Look at you all," he mocked, his voice dripping with contempt. "Grounded beasts, clawing at the sky! You¡ª" His words cut off abruptly. A shadow flickered behind him, subtle and swift, moving in the moonlight''s glow. His sharp eyes caught it a fraction too late. BAM! The impact sent him spiraling through the air, his wings flailing uselessly as he plummeted downward. His mind reeled from the force of the blow, stars exploding in his vision. He tried to process what had happened, but his body hit the ground with a sickening thud before he could comprehend. Dazed, his gaze flickered upward. Through the haze of pain and confusion, he saw it¡ªa massive form soaring in the moonlight, its shadowy outline unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat. "An¡­ Orc?" he muttered weakly, his vision fading. It couldn''t be. Orcs didn''t fly. That was their domain, their birthright as masters of the skies. Yet, as the darkness claimed him, the last thing he saw was the impossible¡ªa hulking orc, his body clad in the makeshift contraptions forged by goblin ingenuity, gliding through the air like a predator reclaiming its place in the food chain. ¡­ The battlefield fell into stunned silence as the owl people hovered in midair, their mocking confidence shattered. The sight before them was beyond comprehension. Orcs¡ªthose hulking, land-bound brutes¡ªwere now defying the natural order. They were flying. Not leaping, not climbing, but soaring. One owl man, his silvery feathers shimmering in the moonlight, blinked in disbelief. "How is this¡­ possible?" His voice trembled, his keen eyes narrowing as he tracked the hulking figure of an orc gliding through the air, his outstretched arms controlling the rudimentary wings attached to his back. "This is a trick!" another owl man spat, his wings beating furiously as he flew higher, trying to gain distance. "An illusion to scare us. Orcs don''t¡ªcan''t¡ªfly!" But the evidence was undeniable. One after another, the Horde took to the skies, their crude but effective gear carrying them upward. It wasn''t graceful at first; the goblins wobbled in their harnesses, ogres flapped oversized contraptions that creaked with each movement, and some orcs barely missed crashing into each other. Yet, they flew. Below, Volk stood with a commanding presence, his sharp gaze locked on the owl people above. "Horde!" he bellowed, his voice booming across the chaotic field. "Take to the skies! Make them regret thinking they owned the air. Show them that even their domain can be conquered!" His words struck like lightning, and the Horde erupted with cheers, their confidence soaring as they leapt into action. One by one, the Horde rose, their movements gaining stability with every passing second. The goblins, despite their small frames, maneuvered quickly, their contraptions zipping around like darting insects. The orcs powered their wings with brute strength, propelling themselves upward with every mighty flap. The ogres, slow but terrifying, gained height with heavy beats, their massive frames looming like airborne siege engines. The owl people watched in disbelief, their confident smirks replaced by stunned stares. "This¡­ this can''t be happening!" one of them shrieked, dodging clumsily as a goblin shot past him, cackling with glee. "Orcs can''t fly!" another shouted, narrowly avoiding an ogre who barreled through the air like a boulder hurled by a giant. Read exclusive adventures at My Virtual Library Empire Their confusion turned to panic as the Horde swarmed them, laughing and taunting as they closed the distance. A goblin zipped in front of an owl man, sticking out his tongue. "Not so tough now, are ya?" he jeered before flipping upside down and darting away. An orc barreled past, his laughter booming. "This your sky? Looks like our sky now!" The owl people''s arrogance crumbled as the Horde pressed their advantage. The air became a chaotic battleground, filled with the flapping of wings, the creak of makeshift gears, and the triumphant roars of the Horde. Volk, still grounded, observed the battle with a calculating gaze. His crimson eyes tracked every movement, noting the flaws in both his Horde''s attacks and the owl people''s panicked defenses. His mind worked rapidly, identifying openings and opportunities. "Don''t let them regroup!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Use their confusion. Push them apart. Make them scatter!" The Horde responded with fervor, their attacks growing more coordinated. A group of goblins surrounded an owl man, their smaller frames darting in and out like wasps, jabbing at him with sharpened spears. The owl man''s cries of frustration filled the air as he flailed, unable to keep up with their erratic movements. An ogre caught an owl man by surprise, his massive frame crashing into him like a battering ram. The owl man spiraled downward, his wings struggling to regain balance as the ogre bellowed a triumphant roar. Despite their initial confusion, the owl people tried to regroup. Their leader, a broad-winged figure with feathers like burnished gold, called out commands. "Form up! Use the wind currents to your advantage! Don''t let them outmaneuver us!" S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But it was too late. The Horde had fully adapted to their newfound wings, their laughter growing louder as they overwhelmed their airborne foes. Volk smirked, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Now, now," he murmured to himself, his voice carrying a dark amusement. "They thought themselves untouchable. Let''s see how they handle being humbled." Raising his voice again, he called out, "Horde! Slow down! No need to end this too quickly." The fighters paused, glancing toward him mid-battle. Volk''s expression was sharp, his tone dripping with authority. "Spare them for now. They''re no longer opponents. They''re practice targets. Make them earn their defeat." The Horde roared with approval, their laughter echoing through the skies as they pulled back slightly, their movements becoming more deliberate. One goblin cackled as he poked at an owl man''s wings with a stick. "Not so high and mighty now, huh?" he teased, zipping out of reach before the owl man could retaliate. An orc grinned as he circled an owl woman, his broad shoulders blocking her attempts to escape. "What''s wrong? You were laughing a moment ago!" The owl people''s leader, still trying to rally his troops, glared down at Volk, his golden eyes blazing with fury. But even he couldn''t deny the truth. The sky, their sacred domain, was no longer theirs. Volk stood below, arms crossed, his crimson eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as he observed the humbled owl people fluttering around in disarray. Their once-mighty arrogance had crumbled into desperation and fear. The Horde now controlled the skies, and the owl people''s sacred dominion had been thoroughly violated. But Volk wasn''t done yet. His sharp gaze swept across the battlefield, calculating his next move. The Owl people''s confusion wasn''t enough¡ªhe needed to cement this humiliation, to make sure they never underestimated the Horde again. He raised his voice, a commanding roar that silenced even the chaotic winds. "Release the ogres!" The Horde paused, momentarily stunned by the command. A murmur rippled through them, and the goblins exchanged glances, their excitement evident. Slowly, the enormous ogres, who had thus far been hovering at the fringes of the battle, stepped forward. Their massive frames cast shadows over the entire battlefield as their crude flying contraptions creaked ominously. The owl people, still scrambling to regroup, froze mid-flight. Their sharp eyes widened in horror as they turned to face the incoming behemoths. The ogres, with their gigantic wings strapped to their backs, looked impossibly menacing, their muscular forms barely constrained by the crude gear that kept them aloft. "W-what are those?" one owl man stammered, his voice trembling. "Impossible!" another gasped, his feathers bristling. "How can something that massive fly?!" The golden-feathered leader''s jaw tightened as he stared at the ogres, his wings twitching nervously. He had seen many things in his life, but this defied logic. "This¡­ this isn''t natural¡­" With a deep, guttural roar, the ogres leapt into the air, their enormous wings beating with a sound like thunderclaps. The air itself seemed to vibrate as they ascended, their hulking forms defying all expectations. Each movement was raw power incarnate, a blend of brute strength and relentless will. The owl people scattered in panic, their formations breaking apart as the ogres barreled toward them. One owl man screamed as an ogre flew directly in front of him, the sheer size of the creature casting him in shadow. The ogre grinned wickedly, his massive hand reaching out as if to swat the smaller figure from the sky. "Is this the best you''ve got?" the ogre bellowed, his voice a booming echo. "You think your little wings can save you from me?" The owl man flapped furiously, narrowly dodging the ogre''s grasp. But the effort was futile¡ªno matter how fast he moved, the ogres closed the distance with terrifying ease. Another ogre, with a makeshift helmet barely clinging to his enormous head, flew directly at a group of owl people, his massive wings stirring the air into a vortex. "Run, little birds!" he taunted, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. The owl people''s fear reached a fever pitch. They had always seen themselves as the masters of the skies, untouchable and dominant. But now, they were being hunted, their superiority turned into a cruel joke. From below, Volk smirked, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. "That''s right," he muttered to himself, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Let them feel it. Let them know that their domain is no longer theirs." Raising his voice again, he called out to the Horde. "Horde! Show them what true power looks like! Remind them that no matter how high they fly, there''s always someone who can bring them down!" The Horde roared in response, their laughter mingling with the cries of the owl people. The ogres, emboldened by Volk''s words, became even more relentless. One ogre barreled past a terrified owl man, his massive frame causing the smaller figure to spin uncontrollably in his wake. The ogre laughed, his deep voice reverberating through the air. "What''s wrong? Can''t handle a little turbulence?" Another ogre hovered menacingly in front of an owl woman, his enormous fists clenched. "Go ahead," he sneered. "Fly away. See if you can escape me." The owl woman''s wings faltered, her eyes darting around in search of an escape. But there was none. The ogres were everywhere, their massive forms dominating the skies. Volk watched it all unfold, his smirk growing wider. The owl people''s terror was palpable, their once-proud demeanor shattered beyond repair. From above, the golden-feathered leader gritted his teeth, his sharp eyes narrowing as he surveyed the chaos. His pride burned like fire, but even he couldn''t deny the truth. The skies no longer belonged to the owl people. And below, Volk stood triumphant, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "This is just the beginning," he declared, his tone cold and commanding. "Today, the sky becomes ours!" Chapter 324 Sky Torture The battle raged in the skies as Volk''s Horde relentlessly pursued the owl people. One by one, their majestic forms descended, driven down not by injury alone but by fear and exhaustion. At first, the owl people tried to resist, clinging to the last shreds of their pride. They flapped their powerful wings with desperate determination, diving and weaving in intricate patterns to evade the Horde''s relentless onslaught. But it was no use. The Horde, with their crude yet effective flying contraptions, had turned the skies into a battlefield where cunning and sheer tenacity outmatched elegance and tradition. The owl people''s aerial grace, once unrivaled, now seemed inadequate against the unrelenting pressure of their foes. Each time one attempted to ascend higher, an ogre or a goblin would rise to meet them. Each time they regrouped to strategize, a shadow would pass over them¡ªa hulking ogre or an agile goblin swooping down to scatter them once more. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The goblins were relentless, darting around with surprising agility, their strange new gadgets keeping them aloft. They cackled gleefully as they swooped in and out of formations, their crude weapons glinting in the moonlight. "Down you go!" one goblin shouted, flinging a weighted net at an owl man. The net tangled in the owl''s wings, sending him spiraling to the ground with a panicked squawk. The ogres, on the other hand, were blunt instruments of terror. They didn''t need speed or finesse. Their sheer size and strength were enough to unnerve even the bravest of the owl people. One ogre grinned wickedly as he grabbed an owl man mid-flight, holding him up as if he weighed nothing. "Think you''re so high and mighty, huh?" the ogre taunted before flinging the owl man downward like a ragdoll. The owl people began to falter. Their formations broke apart, their once-unified flight patterns devolving into chaotic, desperate attempts to evade capture. The golden-feathered leader shouted commands, his voice sharp and commanding, but his words were drowned out by the cacophony of battle. Volk watched from below, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. His Horde was winning¡ªnot just the fight, but the psychological battle as well. The owl people, once so proud and untouchable, were now grounded in every sense of the word. "Keep pushing!" Volk roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "Break their will! Show them that no one¡ªno one¡ªcan stand above the Horde!" The Horde roared in response, their voices a thunderous chorus of triumph. They surged forward with renewed vigor, their crude flying contraptions buzzing and creaking as they pursued the owl people relentlessly. One by one, the owl people fell. Some landed hard, their wings crumpled beneath them. Others managed to glide down more gracefully, their expressions etched with defeat. The golden-feathered leader, still aloft, watched in growing horror as his people were brought low. Below, Volk crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "Look at them," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Once kings of the sky, now groveling in the dirt." Explore more at My Virtual Library Empire The golden-feathered leader hovered above the fray, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. He gritted his teeth, his talons clenched tightly. "Cowards!" he bellowed at his people. "Stand and fight!" But his words fell on deaf ears. A young owl woman landed nearby, her wings trembling as she folded them against her body. She looked up at the leader, her eyes filled with shame. "We can''t¡­ We can''t fight them," she whispered. "They''re¡­ unstoppable." The leader''s jaw tightened, his feathers bristling with frustration. He refused to accept this outcome. "Fools!" he shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. "We are the masters of the sky! We cannot¡ª" "Can''t you?" Volk''s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. The golden leader snapped his gaze downward, his eyes locking onto Volk''s. The orc stood tall, his presence commanding even from the ground. "Face it, birdman," Volk said, his tone dripping with disdain. "Your sky isn''t yours anymore." The leader''s feathers fluffed in anger, but before he could respond, another cry echoed from above. "Leader! It''s no use!" Another owl man descended, his wings flapping weakly. "They''re¡­ they''re too much. We can''t hold them off!" The golden-feathered leader''s eyes darted between his people and the encroaching Horde. His pride warred with the reality before him. Slowly, begrudgingly, he began to descend as well, his wings folding as he landed among his defeated kin. And then, only one remained in the sky¡ªthe golden-feathered leader himself. His wings spread wide, he hovered high above, the last remnant of his people''s once-dominant pride. Volk tilted his head back, his crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Interesting," he murmured. The leader stared down at Volk, his sharp eyes filled with defiance. "You may have bested my people," he called, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "But I will not fall so easily!" Volk chuckled, a low, menacing sound that sent shivers through those who heard it. "Oh, don''t worry," he said, his voice calm but laced with something darker. "I wouldn''t want you to." Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, Volk''s expression shifted. His eyes brightened, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Actually¡­" he said, his voice rising in pitch. "I''ve just had an idea." Volk''s crimson eyes gleamed with mischief as he observed the golden-feathered leader hovering in the sky, defiant yet helpless. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, a grin spreading across his face. His Horde, now fully grounded and gathered, awaited his command, their eager expressions a mix of excitement and curiosity. "Alright, listen up!" Volk bellowed, his booming voice silencing the chatter of the goblins and ogres alike. "I have a plan, but it''s not going to be about swords or flying. No, no. We''re going to¡­ uh, let''s just say, teach this bird a lesson in humility. Grab him!" The Horde erupted into motion. Goblins with their newfound aerial skills darted upward, their movements clumsy but effective. The golden-feathered leader squawked in indignation as he tried to dodge, his wings flapping furiously. But the goblins, grinning wickedly, worked together like a swarm of hornets, corralling him until an ogre leapt impossibly high, his massive hands closing around the leader''s flailing form. The ogre landed with a resounding thud, holding the owl man aloft like a prized trophy. "Got ''im!" the ogre declared, his grin splitting his face. The leader squirmed in the ogre''s grasp, his golden feathers ruffled and his pride thoroughly dented. "Unhand me, you brutes!" he screeched, but his protests fell on deaf ears. Volk smirked, stepping forward and pointing at the golden-feathered leader. "Good! Now, we''re going to play a little game. No weapons, no magic, just¡­ teamwork. Toss him here!" "Toss him?" the ogre repeated, scratching his head. "Yes, toss him! Think of it as practice!" Volk barked. "And don''t let him touch the ground, or you''ll be running laps until your legs fall off!" The ogre grinned, seemingly excited by the new task. With a mighty swing, he launched the golden-feathered leader into the air. The owl man squawked in alarm as he soared upward, his wings flapping uselessly against the momentum. "Catch him!" Volk shouted, pointing at a group of goblins. The goblins, quick to obey, scrambled to position themselves. One goblin leapt into the air, his small hands outstretched. He managed to intercept the owl leader mid-flight, his body jerking from the force of the catch. "Gotcha!" the goblin crowed triumphantly, only to realize he was now falling with the owl man in tow. "Don''t you dare hit the ground!" Volk yelled, his voice carrying a tone of mock seriousness. Another goblin darted forward, leaping into the air to intercept his comrade. With a deft swipe, he batted the owl leader upward, sending him soaring again. The Horde erupted into laughter, their voices mingling with the golden leader''s indignant cries. "What is this madness?!" the owl man screeched, his wings flailing uselessly as he was batted from one goblin to another like a makeshift ball. "It''s training!" Volk declared, crossing his arms and watching with satisfaction. "Now, ogres! Your turn!" An ogre, eager to join in, bounded forward. His massive hand swept upward, swatting the owl leader with surprising precision. The force sent the unfortunate leader flying across the field, where another ogre was already waiting. "Nice hit!" the second ogre said, catching the leader in his giant hands. He tossed him upward, and a nearby group of goblins scrambled to intercept. The game continued, growing more chaotic and hilarious with each passing moment. The owl leader''s protests devolved into incoherent squawks, his pride long since battered into submission. The goblins, always inventive, began adding their own flair to the game. One goblin performed a spinning leap before striking the owl leader with his foot, sending him into a high arc. Another attempted a backflip, though he missed entirely and landed face-first in the dirt. "Keep him in the air!" Volk shouted, his laughter booming across the battlefield. The ogres, not to be outdone, started competing to see who could throw the owl leader the farthest. One particularly enthusiastic ogre launched him so high that for a moment, it seemed he might escape entirely. But a swift-flying goblin intercepted him, flapping his wings madly as he guided the leader back toward the ground. "Impressive catch!" Volk called, nodding in approval. The Horde, despite their rough coordination, were clearly having the time of their lives. Laughter echoed through the field as goblins and ogres alike stumbled, collided, and occasionally missed their target altogether. Even the grim-faced orcs cracked the occasional smile as they watched the spectacle unfold. Volk stood at the center of it all, his arms crossed and his grin wide. "This," he said to himself, "is exactly what we needed. Training and morale-building. I''m a genius." The owl leader, now thoroughly humiliated, could do little more than squawk weakly as he was passed from one member of the Horde to another. His golden feathers were ruffled beyond recognition, and his once-proud demeanor had been replaced with sheer resignation. "Don''t drop him yet!" Volk called out, his voice carrying a mischievous edge. "We''re just getting started!" The Horde roared in agreement, their laughter and cheers blending into a cacophony of joy. Volk watched the scene with a rare moment of unguarded mirth, throwing his head back and laughing until his sides hurt. Chapter 325 Anything? The golden-feathered owl leader, his once-proud plumage now dull and disheveled, flapped weakly as he hovered just above the ground. His pride was shredded, his dignity long since tossed aside like a forgotten relic. His piercing eyes, once filled with superiority and confidence, now carried a desperate, pleading light as he turned to Volk, who stood at the center of his chaotic Horde like a warlord presiding over a festival. "P-please," the owl leader croaked, his voice cracking with exhaustion and humiliation. "I beg you¡­ this is beneath even the vilest of creatures. Spare me this disgrace!" Volk raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he considered the words. A sly smirk tugged at his lips. "Spare you? Hah! Where was your mercy when you mocked us earlier? Where was your dignity when you threatened my life like some pompous overlord? You didn''t seem to think we deserved any mercy then." The leader flinched, his beak opening as if to retort, but before he could speak, one of the ogres stepped forward. The towering figure, grinning ear to ear, loomed over the owl leader like a mountain casting a shadow over a lonely tree. "This one''s too noisy," the ogre rumbled, his massive hand swatting the owl leader with surprising speed and precision. Thwack! The owl leader squawked in shock as the blow sent him spinning through the air, his wings flailing helplessly. He landed unceremoniously in a heap several feet away, groaning as he struggled to right himself. Before he could recover, a goblin darted forward, his small frame a blur of motion. "My turn!" the goblin cried gleefully, leaping into the air and delivering a swift kick to the owl leader''s side. Bam! The leader let out a pitiful screech as he was sent skidding across the ground, his feathers scattering like autumn leaves. He managed to lift his head, his gaze filled with despair as he looked toward his fallen comrades. The other owl people, who had surrendered earlier and now sat bound and huddled together, watched the scene unfold with wide, horrified eyes. Their regal demeanor was shattered, replaced by an oppressive silence born of sheer fear. They exchanged nervous glances, their talons clutching at the dirt as they tried to shrink into themselves. "This¡­ this isn''t right," one of the bound owl people whispered, his voice trembling. "Our leader¡­ reduced to this¡­?" Another shook his head, his eyes darting between Volk and the ogres. "Did you see that? That beast of an orc just swatted him like a fly! And those goblins¡­ they''re laughing! Laughing while they humiliate him!" Meanwhile, the owl leader was once again lifted into the air, this time by an orc who spun him around by his leg like a toy. "He''s too light!" the orc complained, shaking the leader for emphasis. "How is this guy supposed to be a challenge?" Volk chuckled darkly, stepping forward. "Oh, don''t worry," he said, his vodripping with amusement. "He''s not here to be a challenge anymore. He''s here to be a lesson. A lesson for you, your people, and anyone else who thinks they can look down on my Horde." The owl leader gasped, his wings trembling as he looked up at Volk. "L-leader Volk," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I¡ª" Whack! An ogre''s massive hand sent him tumbling once more, cutting off his words. The Horde burst into laughter, their voices ringing out across the field as the owl leader was batted back and forth like a ragdoll. Goblins scampered around him, occasionally darting in to deliver swift kicks or playful jabs, while the ogres continued to swat him whenever he tried to rise. "This is what happens," Volk announced, his voice commanding and sharp, "when you underestimate us. When you think my Horde is nothing but a band of savages." He gestured grandly to the chaos around him. "Look at us now! Goblins, ogres, orcs¡ªtogether, we''ve brought down your so-called superior kind. And now?" He laughed, his voice booming. "Now, we''re having fun at your expense." The owl leader groaned as he was batted into the air once more, his body limp as he surrendered to the inevitable. The laughter of the Horde was a cacophony that seemed to echo endlessly, drowning out any shred of resistance he might have had left. From their place on the ground, the surrendered owl people could only watch, their fear deepening with every swat, every laugh, and every declaration of victory from Volk. Their leader, once the pinnacle of pride and power, was now nothing more than a plaything for the Horde. And at the center of it all stood Volk, his grin wide and his laughter unrestrained. "Let this be a lesson!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "To the sky people, to the land people, to anyone who dares cross my Horde¡ªwe are not to be underestimated!" The golden-feathered leader let out one final, weak groan before being swatted once again, the blow sending him sprawling at Volk''s feet. Volk looked down at him, his grin softening slightly. "You know," he said conversationally, "you could''ve avoided all this if you''d just kept your beak shut." The owl leader didn''t respond, his gaze unfocused as he lay crumpled on the ground. "Take him away," Volk commanded, turning to his Horde. "We''re not done with him yet." The battlefield grew eerily silent as Volk''s booming voice echoed, "Next!" His finger jabbed forward, pointing directly at the huddled group of bound owl people. The gesture sent an icy shiver through their already trembling forms, their feathers puffing slightly in involuntary panic. They exchanged horrified glances, their golden eyes wide with fear and disbelief. The leader''s broken form still lay in the dirt nearby, barely conscious, his once-majestic plumage disheveled and stained. The sight of their proud figurehead reduced to a mere plaything had already crushed their spirits, but now, Volk''s command to move on to them felt like the final blow. One of the younger owls, a slender figure with pale gray feathers, began to sob openly, his muffled cries breaking the tense silence. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please, we didn''t mean any harm. We surrender¡­ we¡­" His words trailed off as a larger owl beside him nudged him sharply with a wing, urging him to keep quiet. Volk tilted his head, his piercing gaze sweeping over the group like a predator sizing up prey. He took a deliberate step forward, his heavy boots crunching against the dirt. "What''s this?" he said mockingly, his voice laced with amusement. "You''re scared already? I haven''t even started yet." The Horde around him chuckled darkly, their laughter rumbling like an ominous storm. Goblins hopped from foot to foot in gleeful anticipation, while the ogres crossed their massive arms, their toothy grins promising no mercy. The orcs stood tall, their eyes gleaming with an almost sadistic joy as they waited for Volk''s next move. One of the older owl people, a dignified figure with streaks of white in his feathers, pushed himself forward despite the bonds tying his wings. "Great leader Volk," he began, his voice trembling but still holding a note of formality. "I¡­ we humbly beg for your mercy. We were wrong to oppose you. Please¡­ spare us." Read exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire Volk raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he considered the plea. He tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Spare you?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery. "Spare you¡­ like you spared us when you swooped down with your superiority? Like you spared us when you threatened to take my life simply because my existence irritated you?" The older owl''s beak opened and closed, but no words came out. His head drooped, his courage faltering under Volk''s scornful gaze. "Thought so," Volk muttered, his smirk widening. "Next!" he barked again, gesturing sharply toward the remaining owl people. The younger owl who had sobbed earlier began to cry again, louder this time. "Please!" he wailed, his voice cracking. "We''ll do anything! Anything you want! Just don''t¡­" His words dissolved into incoherent sobs as he buried his face in his bound wings. The other owl people shifted uncomfortably, their bindings rustling as they tried to comfort the younger one while also shielding themselves from Volk''s intimidating presence. Volk snorted, unimpressed. "Anything, huh?" he repeated, his voice cold and detached. He stepped closer, towering over the group as his shadow loomed ominously over their trembling forms. "Do you even know what ''anything'' means? Or are you just saying it because you''re scared of what happens next?" "P-please," another owl stammered, a female with speckled brown feathers. Her voice quivered as she looked up at Volk, her golden eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "We''ll serve you. We''ll do whatever you command. Just¡­ just don''t hurt us anymore." Volk stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, until one of the ogres broke it with a low chuckle. "They''re so pitiful, boss," the ogre rumbled, his voice thick with amusement. "Are we really gonna waste more time on ''em?" S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk raised a hand, silencing the ogre instantly. His eyes never left the female owl, who flinched under his gaze but didn''t look away. The rest of the owl people began to chime in, their voices overlapping in desperate pleas. "We''ll work for you!" "We''ll teach you our ways!" "We''ll fight for your Horde!" "We''ll do anything! Please, Volk!" The cacophony of begging grew louder, each voice more desperate than the last. Some owls were practically prostrating themselves on the ground, their heads bowed so low their beaks nearly touched the dirt. Others were weeping openly, their once-proud demeanor shattered. Volk finally raised a hand, and the cries of the owl people fell silent almost immediately. His piercing gaze swept over the group, his smirk returning as he slowly repeated their final, collective plea: "Anything?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried an unmistakable weight that made the owl people shudder. The way he drew out the word, letting it hang in the air, sent chills down their spines. "Yes," the older owl said, his voice barely audible as he nodded. "Anything." Volk''s smirk widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "Good," he said, his tone dangerously calm. "Then let''s see just how far your ''anything'' goes." Chapter 326 Take us to them The tension in the air thickened as Volk, his tone both commanding and curious, asked, "Fly us to the Elven Continent." The owl people exchanged fearful glances, their golden eyes darting between one another. Their feathers bristled, not in defiance, but in panic. The female owl, still trembling from her earlier plea, took a cautious step forward. "W-we can''t¡­" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. Volk''s sharp gaze narrowed as he stepped closer. "Can''t?" he repeated, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Or won''t?" The female flinched but held her ground. "It''s not that we refuse," she said quickly, her words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to explain. "It''s¡­ it''s that we''re not equipped to carry such heavy loads. We''re built for speed, not strength. Carrying even one of you for such a long journey would be¡­" "Impossible?" Volk interjected, his tone mocking yet probing. She nodded hesitantly, her feathers trembling under his scrutiny. "Yes¡­ impossible. But¡­" She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the other owl people as if seeking their silent agreement. "There are¡­ others who can." Volk raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He crossed his arms and tilted his head, his tusks glinting as he grinned. "Others, you say?" The older owl, the one with streaks of white in his feathers, stepped forward. His voice was steadier, though it still carried the weight of caution. "Yes, great leader Volk. There are those among the winged tribes who are built for such tasks. They are the eagle people¡ªstronger, larger, and capable of carrying great weights across vast distances." Volk''s eyes gleamed with intrigue, but his expression darkened as he leaned closer. "And where are these eagle people?" The older owl hesitated, his beak opening and closing as if weighing the consequences of his next words. Finally, he sighed and said, "They reside in the high peaks, far from here. They rarely leave their territory and are¡­ not ones to cooperate easily." Volk''s grin widened, his sharp teeth on full display. "Not ones to cooperate easily, you say? That sounds like a challenge." The owls exchanged nervous glances, their feathers rustling as they shifted uncomfortably. The younger owl from earlier, his pale gray feathers still damp from tears, spoke up timidly, "They''re proud¡­ very proud. Even more than us. If you wish to¡­ to gain their help, you''ll need to prove yourself." Volk let out a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed across the clearing. The Horde, standing behind him, chuckled along, their amusement at the owls'' predicament evident. "Prove myself?" Volk repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. "I think I''ve proven myself enough by not turning all of you into practice dummies." The owl people flinched at his words, their heads bowing lower in submission. Volk''s laughter subsided, and he straightened, his eyes glinting with determination. "Fine," he said, his voice carrying the weight of command. "Take me to the eagle people. Let''s see if their pride can hold up against the Horde of Lyern." The older owl hesitated but nodded. "As you wish, great leader. But¡­ be warned. The eagle people are not just strong. They are cunning, and they do not take kindly to outsiders." Volk smirked, his confidence unwavering. "Good. I wouldn''t have it any other way." The scene ended with the owls reluctantly preparing to guide Volk and his Horde, their fear evident in their every movement as the shadow of their new leader loomed over them. The journey to the mountain peaks was an arduous one, testing the resolve of Volk and his Horde at every step. Though the goblins had crafted ingenious flying machines, their mana reserves were not infinite, and the weight of the orcs, ogres, and other hulking members of the Horde made sustained flight a luxury they could not afford for long stretches. At first, the group attempted to ascend using the machines, gliding between the jagged cliffs and steep inclines. The wind, sharp and biting, tore at their clothes and flesh, forcing them to grit their teeth and push forward. The owl people, serving as reluctant guides, flapped their wings effortlessly above, their movements smooth and practiced. They occasionally glanced back at the struggling Horde, their expressions a mix of pity and concealed smugness. "Keep moving!" Volk bellowed, his voice echoing through the craggy expanse. His fiery gaze swept over his Horde, many of whom were sweating and panting from the effort of scaling the rugged terrain. The ogres grumbled, their massive hands gripping onto rocks that crumbled under their immense weight. One of them slipped, a shower of pebbles tumbling down the slope, and he barely caught himself with a roar of frustration. The goblins, though more nimble, were equally strained. Their small frames shivered in the biting cold, and the effort of carrying the delicate components of their machines weighed heavily on them. Volk himself marched with relentless determination, his broad shoulders cutting through the wind as he led the way. He would occasionally glance at the owl people soaring above, his jaw tightening. They had the audacity to fly leisurely while his Horde struggled, but he bit back his irritation. They were his ticket to the eagle people, and he wouldn''t jeopardize the mission by snapping too soon. As the terrain grew steeper, the flying machines began to sputter and falter. The mana crystals embedded in their cores flickered, their once-bright glow dimming. The goblins managing them began shouting in panic, scrambling to stabilize the devices before they fell apart mid-air. "Land those things now before you crash them!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The goblins obeyed, landing awkwardly on the rocky path. A few of the machines tipped over, spilling their parts onto the ground. One goblin, his face smudged with grease and soot, looked up at Volk with wide, nervous eyes. "W-we need to recharge them, my lord. Without mana, they''re useless!" Volk scowled but nodded. "Then we''ll walk. Pack them up and keep moving!" The Horde groaned collectively but complied. The machines were disassembled and strapped to the backs of the ogres, who grumbled under the added weight but bore it without complaint. The climb became a grueling ordeal. The air grew thinner, making every breath a laborious effort. The wind howled mercilessly, and the rocky path was littered with treacherous loose stones that threatened to send them tumbling into the abyss below. "Watch your footing!" Volk barked as one goblin stumbled, nearly losing his balance. The goblin caught himself and nodded quickly, his face pale. Hours turned into what felt like days as they trudged upward. The sun began to set, casting long shadows over the peaks and painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold. The temperature plummeted further, and the Horde wrapped themselves in whatever cloaks and furs they had brought. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The owl people, still gliding above, occasionally called out directions, their voices barely audible over the wind. "This way! The path narrows here¡ªbe careful!" "About time they did something useful," Volk muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from one of the ogres. Explore more adventures at My Virtual Library Empire As night fell, they set up a makeshift camp on a small plateau, the only flat space they could find. Fires were lit, casting flickering shadows against the jagged cliffs. The goblins huddled together for warmth, while the ogres and orcs took turns keeping watch. Volk sat near the largest fire, his sharp eyes scanning the peaks above. The owl people perched nearby, their silhouettes barely visible in the darkness. Volk could hear their soft murmurs, though he couldn''t make out their words. He didn''t care. His mind was focused on the challenge ahead. When dawn broke, the journey resumed. The path grew even narrower, forcing them to move in single file. The cliffs on either side were sheer drops, the kind that made even the bravest warriors swallow hard. The wind seemed to mock them, pulling at their clothes and threatening to unbalance them with every step. "Almost there," one of the owl people called out. Volk clenched his fists, his determination unwavering. "Almost there" wasn''t good enough. They would reach their destination, no matter the cost. By the time they reached the higher peaks, the Horde was exhausted. Even Volk''s indomitable energy seemed slightly dimmed, though he refused to show it. The owl people landed gracefully ahead, gesturing to a towering cliff in the distance. "There," the older owl said, pointing with a feathered hand. "The eagle people make their home on those peaks." Volk stared at the distant cliffs, his eyes narrowing. The journey had been brutal, but they had made it. And now, he thought with a grim smile, it was time to see just how proud these eagle people truly were. Chapter 327 Unexpected events The towering peaks where the eagle people were said to reside stood before them, a breathtaking yet ominous sight. Craggy cliffs jutted skyward, their edges sharp as blades, and the swirling winds carried an eerie silence. The air was colder now, biting against the skin and chilling the resolve of even the hardiest members of the Horde. Volk, his eyes narrowing, stepped forward with his Horde trailing behind, the exhaustion from their arduous climb barely concealed under their stoic expressions. The owl people landed gracefully on a nearby ledge, their wings folding neatly behind them. Their leader, an older and more imposing figure with feathers that shimmered in the dim light, gestured toward a large plateau. "This is where the eagle people dwell," the leader said, his tone calm and measured. "We have brought you as promised." Volk studied the area. The plateau was barren save for a few scattered boulders and patches of snow. It was eerily quiet. Too quiet. He frowned, his sharp instincts tingling. He turned to the owl leader. "Where are they? You said this was their home." The owl leader''s beak curled into what could only be described as a smirk. "Oh, they were here once," he said cryptically. "But it seems they''ve flown off for now." Volk''s jaw tightened. He felt the tension in his Horde as they murmured amongst themselves, exchanging wary glances. The ogres shifted uneasily, their massive frames casting long shadows in the thin mountain light. The goblins whispered nervously, their small hands clutching the remains of their now-useless flying machines. "You brought us all this way," Volk growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Where. Are. They?" The owl leader spread his wings dramatically, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. "Oh, they are far from here," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "And you¡­ well, you''ve been far too trusting for your own good." Before Volk could respond, a sharp whistle pierced the air. In an instant, the owl people took to the skies, their wings creating powerful gusts that sent snow and dust swirling around the plateau. The sudden movement startled the Horde, who instinctively raised their weapons, though their fatigue and dwindling mana reserves were evident in their sluggish reactions. "What is this?" Volk roared, his voice booming across the cliffs. The owl leader''s mocking laughter echoed above them. "You fools! Did you truly believe we would help you? You''ve depleted your mana reserves, your machines are useless, and you''ve walked right into our trap. This plateau is ours, and here, the wind listens to us." The wind seemed to answer his call, shifting abruptly. A sudden gust nearly knocked several goblins off their feet, and the ogres braced themselves against the onslaught. The Horde''s formation faltered as the owl people dove from the skies, their sharp talons gleaming in the light. "Attack!" Volk bellowed, his command cutting through the chaos. The Horde scrambled to defend themselves, but the situation was dire. The owl people were swift and cunning, weaving through the air with practiced ease. They struck from above, their claws raking against armor and shields before retreating back into the sky. The orcs swung their massive weapons wildly, trying to swat the attackers out of the air, but their heavy blows met only empty space. Volk, his mind racing, observed the battlefield with cold precision. He could see the Horde''s weakness¡ªthe exhaustion from the climb, the lack of mana to power their machines, and the unfamiliarity of fighting against such agile foes in a place where the wind itself seemed to conspire against them. One owl warrior swooped down toward a goblin, who barely had time to raise his shield before being knocked flat. The goblin''s panicked cries echoed as the owl warrior circled back for another attack. Volk''s eyes narrowed, and with a flick of his wrist, he summoned a jagged spear of dark energy. He hurled it with deadly accuracy, striking the owl mid-flight. The creature screeched in pain, spiraling downward before crashing onto the plateau. "Regroup!" Volk commanded, his voice carrying over the howling wind. "Use their arrogance against them!" The Horde struggled to follow his orders, their movements sluggish but determined. The goblins huddled together, using their shields to form a protective barrier. The ogres, despite their size, worked to shield the smaller members of the Horde, their massive frames serving as cover. The owl leader, hovering high above, laughed. "You think you can resist us here? This is our domain! You''re nothing but insects scrambling in the dirt!" Volk''s eyes burned with fury as he turned his gaze upward. "If you think we''ll go down so easily, you''re dead wrong," he growled. The owl people continued their assault, but Volk noticed a pattern in their movements. They were overconfident, taunting and mocking the Horde rather than focusing on efficient attacks. Their laughter and jeers grated against his nerves, but it also revealed their arrogance¡ªa weakness he intended to exploit. As the battle raged on, Volk''s sharp mind worked to turn the tide. He barked orders, instructing the goblins to use the scattered remains of their machines as improvised weapons. The goblins, quick-witted and resourceful, began hurling gears and pipes at the owl people, forcing them to dodge and disrupting their rhythm. The ogres, under Volk''s direction, hurled massive boulders into the air, their sheer size and force making them difficult to avoid. One boulder struck an owl warrior squarely, sending him plummeting to the ground with a sickening thud. The tide began to shift, but the battle was far from over. The owl leader, still circling above, screeched in anger. "You''ll regret defying us, you ground-bound scum!" Volk''s lip curled into a feral grin. "Regret? You''ll wish you''d never crossed me." As the wind howled and the battle raged, Volk''s unyielding determination inspired his Horde. Though the odds were against them, they fought with a fierce resolve, proving that even in the most dire circumstances, they were not to be underestimated. The owl people continued their relentless assault, their laughter echoing across the plateau. Their leader, high above, flapped his massive wings, stirring up powerful gusts that threatened to unsteady the already fatigued Horde. The situation seemed grim. Each member of the Horde struggled to stand their ground, shields raised and weapons gripped tightly, but the odds appeared insurmountable. Then, Volk stepped forward, his shadow looming large in the dim light. His expression was calm, almost too calm for someone supposedly cornered. He raised a hand to quiet the murmuring Horde, his sharp eyes fixed on the circling owl people. "Is that all you''ve got?" Volk''s voice cut through the noise like a blade. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The owl leader, his feathers glinting in the faint light, sneered. "Arrogant to the end, aren''t you? Your mana reserves are gone, your machines useless. You''re at our mercy!" Volk tilted his head, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You think you''ve won because we walked up here? Because we didn''t immediately retaliate?" He chuckled darkly, a sound that sent a ripple of unease through both his Horde and the owl people above. The owl warriors paused mid-flight, their confident movements faltering slightly. The leader narrowed his eyes. "What are you playing at, orc?" Volk turned to his Horde, his voice carrying a commanding edge. "You think I''d drag all of us up here without a plan? You think I''d let our mana reserves run dry without preparing for something greater?" He reached down, gripping one of the flying devices that the goblins had worked tirelessly to create. "This isn''t over. In fact¡­" His eyes gleamed dangerously as he glanced back at the owl leader. "It''s just begun." The Horde exchanged puzzled looks, but their confusion turned to awe as Volk pressed a hidden rune on the side of the machine. A soft hum resonated, growing louder and louder until the entire device glowed faintly with stored mana. "Your arrogance blinded you," Volk continued, his voice rising. "You assumed we''d be foolish enough to waste our mana reserves during the climb. But all that mana? It wasn''t used. It was stored." The owl leader''s face twisted in disbelief. "Impossible!" Volk didn''t bother responding. He merely raised his arm, activating his own flying device. With a deafening roar, the machine flared to life, and in an instant, Volk shot into the sky, leaving a gust of wind in his wake. Your next read is at My Virtual Library Empire The owl warriors gasped, their confident jeers replaced with stunned silence. The Horde below erupted into cheers as they followed their leader''s example. One by one, the goblins, orcs, and ogres activated their devices, the soft hum of stored mana filling the air. And then, they ascended. The sky that had once belonged to the owl people was no longer their exclusive domain. The Horde soared upward, their formation tight and disciplined despite the initial awkwardness of some. Volk took the lead, his figure a blur as he moved with astonishing speed and precision. "Show them the meaning of true battle!" Volk roared, his voice carrying across the heavens. The owl warriors, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, found themselves on the defensive. Their graceful dives and taunting swipes were now met with calculated counterattacks. Goblins flanked them with surprising agility, hurling small but devastating projectiles from midair. Orcs, larger and heavier, used their brute strength to tackle the owl warriors, sending them careening out of formation. And the ogres¡ªmassive, lumbering forces of destruction¡ªwere terrifying in the air. Their movements were less precise, but what they lacked in finesse, they made up for in raw power. One ogre swung a makeshift club, catching an owl warrior mid-flight and sending him crashing into the cliffside with a sickening thud. The owl leader, watching his forces falter, screeched in rage. "How dare you! The sky belongs to us!" "Not anymore!" Volk''s voice rang out as he propelled himself toward the leader. He moved like a shadow, weaving through the chaotic battle with an ease that was almost supernatural. The owl people were no longer taunting or mocking. Panic set in as they realized they were losing control of the fight. Their once-confident movements became erratic, their coordinated strikes devolving into desperate attempts to fend off the Horde. Below, the remaining Horde members who hadn''t yet taken to the sky cheered and shouted encouragement. They watched in awe as their comrades dominated a battlefield that had initially seemed impossible to conquer. Volk grinned as he closed in on the owl leader. "You made one fatal mistake," he said, his voice cold. "You underestimated us." The leader snarled, attempting to dive away, but Volk anticipated the move. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a blast of dark energy toward the owl, clipping his wing and sending him spiraling downward. "Spare them!" Volk bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. "They''re not worth killing yet. Let them be our training tools!" The Horde obeyed with gusto, their laughter filling the air as they swatted the remaining owl warriors back and forth, like prey caught in a predator''s claws. The owl leader, dazed and battered, managed to stabilize his flight, hovering just out of reach. He looked down at his defeated warriors and back at Volk, his expression a mixture of rage and fear. "You''ll regret this, orc," he hissed, his voice trembling. Volk smirked. "You said that before. Look where it got you." The Horde''s laughter grew louder as the owl warriors were thoroughly humbled. And above it all, Volk''s voice rang clear, commanding, and full of triumph. "This is only the beginning. Learn your place in the sky¡ªor be crushed beneath it." Chapter 328 Lost mountain The sun burned high above the mountain peaks, illuminating a chaotic and humiliating scene for the owl people. The Horde of Volk, now masters of the air, zipped through the sky with their makeshift flying devices, turning what had begun as a desperate battle into a merciless game of humiliation. The once-proud owl warriors, who had boasted of their supremacy in the skies, were now scattered like leaves caught in a tempest. Their wings beat frantically, trying to maintain altitude, but the relentless pursuit of the Horde gave them no chance to regroup. Goblins darted about like wasps, their high-pitched laughter grating in the ears of their enemies. Orcs and ogres, though less agile, made up for their lack of finesse with raw power, smashing into owl warriors mid-flight and sending them spiraling down in undignified tumbles. "Ha! Look at this one flapping like a fish out of water!" a goblin cackled, diving past an owl warrior who was desperately trying to dodge incoming attacks. Another goblin swooped low, tossing a small, crude explosive at an owl''s talons. The blast wasn''t strong enough to cause real harm, but it singed the feathers and caused the owl to screech in frustration. "You think you own the skies? Think again!" Volk hovered in the center of the chaos, watching his Horde unleash their creativity. His sharp eyes tracked every movement, ensuring none of his warriors went too far¡ªthis was a game, not an execution. Still, the amusement in his smirk was impossible to miss. "Ogre Squad!" Volk bellowed, his voice cutting through the laughter and screeches. "Your turn!" The massive ogres, who had been biding their time, roared in excitement. Their flying devices hummed to life, groaning under their sheer weight. The owl people''s eyes widened in horror as the hulking figures launched into the air with surprising speed. One ogre barreled toward an owl warrior, who barely managed to dodge. But before the owl could stabilize, the ogre reached out and grabbed his wing. With a laugh that echoed like thunder, the ogre spun in midair, using the owl like a ragdoll before tossing him toward another ogre. "Catch!" the first ogre shouted, and the second ogre snatched the owl out of the air. "No, no, no, no!" the owl screamed as the ogres played their own version of catch, throwing him back and forth like a ball. Volk watched, his arms crossed, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "And they call themselves rulers of the skies." Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The remaining owl warriors tried to escape the madness, but the goblins were quick to block their paths. "Where do you think you''re going?" one goblin sneered, darting ahead and cutting off an owl''s retreat. The trapped owl turned to flee in another direction, only to find himself surrounded by orcs. One of the orcs grinned, swinging a massive club lazily. "You wanted a fight in the skies, didn''t you? Don''t quit now." As the Horde tightened their grip, the owl people''s once-proud demeanor crumbled. One by one, they were plucked out of the sky and subjected to the Horde''s games. Some were tied to crude flying contraptions, spun around in dizzying circles, and sent spiraling down toward the mountain slopes before being caught at the last moment. Others were forced into mock races, their wings aching as goblins zipped past them, taunting them for their slowness. The laughter of the Horde echoed across the peaks, a sharp contrast to the pitiful cries of the owl people. Yet Volk, ever the strategist, kept his eyes on the leader of the owl warriors, who had managed to stay above the fray. The owl leader''s wings beat steadily, his keen eyes darting across the battlefield. He barked orders, trying to rally his warriors, but his voice held a tremor of fear. He watched as his proud flock was reduced to playthings, their dignity stripped away by the relentless onslaught. "Hold the line!" he screeched. "Regroup! We can still¡ª" His command was cut off by the sudden roar of an ogre. The massive figure shot up from below, swinging a club that narrowly missed the owl leader. The gust of wind from the swing knocked the leader off balance, forcing him to flap frantically to regain control. "Running out of ideas, are we?" Volk called out, his voice dripping with mockery. The leader glared down at him, his beak clenching tightly. "You think this is over, orc? This humiliation will cost you dearly!" Volk tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "Oh? And who exactly is going to make me pay? You?" The Horde erupted in laughter at Volk''s taunt, their morale soaring as they continued to dominate the skies. Below, the fallen owl warriors lay in heaps, their wings battered and their pride shattered. They watched helplessly as their leader remained the last one standing, circling high above. The goblins jeered, waving their weapons in the air. "Your boss is next!" one of them shouted. Volk raised a hand, silencing the Horde. His smirk faded, replaced by a look of calculated menace. "Enough playing," he said, his voice low but firm. The Horde stilled, their laughter fading into a tense silence. All eyes turned to Volk as he pointed a single, commanding finger toward the owl leader. "You''re the last one left," Volk said, his voice carrying an air of finality. "Let''s see if you''re worth the trouble your arrogance has caused." The owl leader froze, his sharp eyes narrowing as Volk''s words sank in. But Volk wasn''t finished. A dark grin spread across his face as he added, "Are you ready?" The owl leader hovered above the battlefield, his wings beating slowly, as if savoring the moment of silence. He looked down at Volk and his Horde, his beak curling into what could only be described as a sinister grin. The once-proud warriors of his flock, beaten and humiliated, lay scattered across the ground like broken feathers. Yet there was no despair in his eyes. Instead, they glimmered with something dark¡ªa knowing satisfaction that sent a chill through the air. "You think you''ve won, don''t you?" the owl leader began, his voice echoing across the peaks. The rasping edge in his tone cut through the silence, commanding attention. "You, with your ragtag band of beasts and cobbled-together toys, flying where you don''t belong. You may have bested us today, but do you even realize where you are?" Volk''s eyes narrowed, his sharp senses picking up on the ominous shift in the atmosphere. The wind, already subdued since their arrival, seemed to grow eerily still, as if even nature itself was holding its breath. The other members of the Horde exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier bravado tempered by the owl leader''s cryptic words. The leader spread his wings wide, his silhouette a menacing shadow against the gray skies. "This is no ordinary mountain, you fools!" he bellowed, his laughter ringing out in jagged, mocking bursts. "You have brought your filthy Horde to the Lost Mountain¡ªa place even your kind would never dare enter if you knew the truth. The mountain of my ancestors, where the wind whispers warnings, and the mist hides horrors beyond your comprehension." The goblins shifted uneasily, their earlier laughter now replaced by murmurs of uncertainty. One of them muttered, "Lost Mountain? What''s he talking about?" Find more chapters on My Virtual Library Empire The owl leader continued, ignoring their confusion. "Do you know why this place is called the Lost Mountain?" He didn''t wait for an answer, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and malice. "Because those who set foot here without knowing its secrets¡­ never leave! The mists will consume you, the beasts hidden within will tear you apart, and the very mountain itself will ensure your doom. No outsider has ever escaped its grasp!" Volk folded his arms, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features. "Is that so? Then why are you still here, bird?" he said, his voice laced with disdain. The owl leader''s grin widened. "Because we are the keepers of this land! This mountain is our sanctuary, and we know its ways. But you¡­ you and your pitiful Horde are nothing but intruders. You don''t belong here, and the mountain will see to it that you pay the price for your arrogance." The Horde, now fully attentive, began to stir uneasily. Even the ogres, who were typically unfazed by threats, shifted their weight nervously, their massive hands gripping their weapons tightly. The owl leader''s voice dropped to a chilling whisper that seemed to carry unnaturally across the distance. "And you, Volk¡­ bringing your filthy Horde here was your greatest mistake. You''ve doomed them all, and for what? Your petty ambitions? Your lust for conquest? Mark my words, this mountain will devour you, and it will take its time doing so." Suddenly, his laughter erupted again, wild and unhinged. The sound grated on the ears of the Horde, sending shivers down their spines. "Oh, the irony," he cackled, "that you think you''ve won! But you haven''t even begun to lose!" The wind began to pick up, swirling faintly around them. Yet it was no ordinary breeze¡ªit carried a strange weight, almost as if it were alive, curling around their ankles and tugging at their clothes. The goblins whispered nervously, their instincts screaming that something was very wrong. "And now," the owl leader said, his voice dripping with mockery, "I may fall, but I''ll do so knowing that my death will seal your fate. The mists will rise soon. And when they do¡­ oh, how you''ll scream. How you''ll beg for mercy from the misty beasts that dwell within these peaks!" At the mention of the misty beasts, several goblins gasped audibly. Stories of such creatures had circulated among various tribes for generations¡ªphantoms of the mountains that could tear flesh from bone in an instant, moving silently through the fog. But no one had ever confirmed their existence. The owl leader''s eyes burned with triumph as he looked down at Volk one last time. "Good luck, Volk," he spat. "You''ll need it. But luck won''t save you. Nothing will." And with that, he let out a final, defiant cry, his wings faltering as he finally succumbed to his injuries. His body plummeted from the sky, crashing into the rocky ground below with a sickening thud. Blood pooled beneath his broken form, but his expression remained eerily victorious, a chilling grin frozen on his beak. The Horde stood in tense silence, staring at the lifeless body of the owl leader. But his words lingered, echoing in their minds like a haunting refrain. Volk''s eyes flicked to the horizon, where a faint mist had begun to roll in from the higher peaks. A single thought pierced the heavy silence: What now? Chapter 329 The mist thickens The Horde hesitated at the edge of the descending path, the steep trail snaking down into the unknown depths of the mountain. Volk stood at the forefront, his gaze scanning the jagged rocks and shifting shadows below. Though the owl leader''s body lay broken and lifeless, his parting words clung to their minds like a ghostly whisper. The Lost Mountain. A place where mists swallowed invaders whole, and beasts hunted in silence. The air itself seemed heavier, charged with an unnatural stillness that made every breath feel labored. "We move," Volk ordered, his voice sharp but steady, slicing through the oppressive quiet. "Stay alert. Watch your steps. No one strays from the group." The Horde began to descend in cautious silence. Each step was measured, their boots crunching against loose gravel and ancient stone. The trail narrowed precariously at points, forcing the group into a single file, with Volk leading and the ogres bringing up the rear. The goblins, smaller and lighter, moved with relative ease, though their wide, darting eyes betrayed their unease. As they ventured deeper, the mists began to creep in around them like pale, ghostly tendrils. It started faintly, a thin veil that wove through the rocks and clung to the ground. But with each passing moment, it thickened, swirling and coiling around their legs. The mists felt alive, brushing against their skin with an unnatural chill. "Do you hear that?" one of the goblins whispered, his voice trembling. Stay updated through My Virtual Library Empire Volk turned sharply, silencing him with a glare. "Focus. Fear feeds these kinds of places. Don''t give it power." But even Volk couldn''t deny the sounds that began to filter through the mists. Low, guttural growls echoed faintly from unseen depths, followed by the crunch of shifting stones, as if massive claws scraped against the mountain. The noises were sporadic, fleeting, and always distant¡ªyet close enough to unnerve even the hardened ogres. "I don''t like this," one of the ogres grunted, his deep voice carrying a note of unease. He shifted his massive club from one hand to the other, his eyes scanning the swirling fog. "Feels like somethin'' watchin'' us." Another sound echoed¡ªa sharp, piercing roar that reverberated through the rocks, sending shudders through the entire group. The goblins froze, clutching their weapons tightly, their knuckles pale. Even Volk paused for a moment, his ears straining to pinpoint the source. "Keep moving," Volk commanded, his voice firm but lower now, as if unwilling to stir the mountain further. The path grew steeper and more treacherous, forcing them to slow their pace. The mists thickened further, reducing visibility to mere feet. Shadows danced on the edges of their vision, twisting and contorting into shapes that seemed almost humanoid before dissipating into nothingness. Occasionally, a sudden, sharp movement would catch the Horde''s attention¡ªa flash of something darting through the fog or the faint rustle of disturbed gravel. The tension was palpable, a living thing that wrapped itself around their throats and refused to let go. "Did you hear that?" a goblin whispered again, his voice barely audible. "I said quiet!" Volk barked, his patience fraying. But even Volk could hear it now: a rhythmic, low growl that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. It was accompanied by a deep, rumbling vibration, as if the mountain itself was breathing. The wind, which had been eerily still, began to stir, carrying faint, unplaceable sounds¡ªwhispers that danced at the edge of hearing, growing louder and clearer with every step. They spoke in no language Volk recognized, but their tone was unmistakably hostile. The goblins huddled closer together, their nerves fraying with each passing moment. One of them tripped on a loose stone, letting out a small yelp that echoed far louder than it should have. The group froze, every eye scanning the mists, every breath held. Then came the sound of movement¡ªsomething heavy shifting just beyond the veil of fog. It was slow and deliberate, accompanied by a faint scraping, as if claws dragged against stone. "Eyes up," Volk ordered, his voice a harsh whisper. He raised his weapon, his gaze fixed on the shifting shadows ahead. The scraping stopped, replaced by a low, guttural snarl. It was close now¡ªtoo close. Volk''s heart pounded, but he refused to let his fear show. Instead, he stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "Whatever''s out there," he growled, "it''ll regret testing us." The Horde braced themselves, weapons drawn, their nerves stretched taut. The mountain seemed to hold its breath, the mists closing in tighter around them. And then, from somewhere deep in the fog, another roar erupted¡ªlouder, closer, and filled with unmistakable malice. Volk tightened his grip on his weapon, his eyes scanning the dense white void ahead. "Stay close," he commanded. "We don''t stop until we''re through this." The Horde began to move again, their steps slower, their movements more deliberate. The sounds of unseen creatures persisted, following them like a predator stalking its prey. Occasionally, the roars would echo again, as if the mists themselves were mocking them. Soon, the mists swirled thicker around the Horde as they descended further into the mountain''s depths. What had once been treacherous but visible ground beneath their feet began to vanish, swallowed whole by the encroaching fog. The trail they followed disappeared inch by inch, leaving them to navigate blindly. The last glimpses of grass, jagged stones, and loose gravel faded into an endless expanse of white. The mist wasn''t just dense; it was alive. It curled and twisted in unnatural patterns, tendrils reaching out as though testing the Horde''s resolve. Each breath they took felt damp and heavy, the air clinging to their lungs. "Is it¡­ thicker now?" one of the goblins stammered, his voice shaking. Volk glared at him but didn''t respond. He too had noticed the oppressive change. The mist had grown not only heavier but colder, an unnatural chill that seemed to seep into their bones. Each step felt heavier, as though the very ground beneath them had turned against them. The sounds began as faint whispers¡ªsoft, indistinct, and fleeting. They came from all around, darting from one side to the other. Sometimes it sounded like voices murmuring words too faint to decipher. Other times, it was a low, guttural growl, like a predator preparing to strike. "Do you hear that?" an ogre asked, his voice breaking the silence like a hammer striking a gong. "We all hear it," Volk snapped, his tone low and tense. "Keep moving. Ignore it." But ignoring the noises was easier said than done. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, as if the mist itself carried them. Shapes began to form in the fog¡ªdark, shifting silhouettes that seemed to move when no one was looking. "Over there!" a goblin shouted, pointing frantically into the mist. "Quiet!" Volk barked, but his gaze followed the goblin''s trembling hand. There was nothing there¡ªjust the mist, swirling and coiling like a living thing. Yet even Volk couldn''t shake the feeling of being watched. The sounds became clearer. What had once been faint whispers now resembled guttural snarls and the crunch of something heavy moving just out of sight. Occasionally, there was the sharp crack of a branch breaking or the scrape of claws against stone. The noises were uncomfortably real, sending shivers down the spines of even the ogres. "I don''t like this," one of the ogres muttered, gripping his weapon tighter. "It''s like they''re circlin'' us." The goblins huddled closer together, their small forms trembling as they scanned the mist for any sign of movement. Some muttered prayers to deities they hadn''t spoken of in years. Others simply gripped their weapons and stared into the void, their wide eyes filled with fear. The ground beneath them seemed to vanish entirely. Where there had once been a trail of loose stones and dirt, there was now only mist. Each step felt like venturing into the unknown, the solid earth below replaced by a soft, almost spongy sensation that sent a jolt of unease through the group. "Where''s the path?" a goblin whispered, his voice barely audible. "There is no path," Volk growled, his tone sharp but steady. "We make our own." But even Volk couldn''t ignore the growing sense of unease. The mist clung to him like a second skin, its cold touch unnerving. The sounds grew louder, closer, and more distinct. The growls now had depth and weight, as if the creatures making them were no longer distant echoes but right beside them. A sudden roar erupted from the mist, loud and guttural, sending the Horde into a frenzy. The goblins screamed, clutching their weapons tightly. The ogres shifted uneasily, their massive forms tense and ready for combat. "Hold!" Volk shouted, raising his hand to calm the group. "It''s just a trick of the mist. Stay together!" S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But even Volk wasn''t so sure. The roar had felt real¡ªtoo real. And now, the shapes in the mist seemed more solid, more defined. Occasionally, a flicker of movement would catch his eye¡ªa dark form darting just out of reach. The whispers returned, louder this time and accompanied by a strange hissing sound. It slithered through the mist like a serpent, curling around the group and filling their ears. The goblins covered their ears in desperation, their faces pale with terror. "Keep moving!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. But the mist had other plans. It seemed to thicken further, wrapping around them like a cocoon. The white void became suffocating, and the sounds of their own footsteps began to fade, replaced by the constant growling and hissing. Another roar erupted, this time closer¡ªtoo close. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps, the ground trembling beneath their feet. Whatever was out there, it wasn''t hiding anymore. "Form up!" Volk commanded, his voice sharp and unyielding. The Horde obeyed, forming a tight circle with Volk at the center. Weapons were drawn, eyes scanning the mist for any sign of movement. The goblins crouched low, their small forms trembling but ready. The ogres stood tall, their massive clubs and axes gleaming in the faint light. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of their own ragged breathing. Then, from the mist, came a low, guttural growl. It was followed by another, and then another, until the air was filled with the sound of unseen predators. Volk''s grip on his weapon tightened. His heart pounded in his chest, but his face remained stoic. "Whatever''s out there," he muttered under his breath, "it''s going to regret facing us." The growls grew louder, accompanied by the sound of claws scraping against stone. The shapes in the mist grew closer, their forms taking on terrifying clarity. They were massive, hulking beasts, their glowing eyes piercing through the fog like lanterns. "Ready yourselves!" Volk shouted, his voice echoing through the mist. The Horde braced themselves, their weapons raised. The tension was unbearable, the weight of the mist pressing down on them like a physical force. And as the first beast''s glowing eyes locked onto Volk, a deafening roar erupted, signaling the start of the battle. Chapter 330 Fake or real The Horde stood frozen, their weapons clenched tightly, eyes darting through the oppressive mist. The tension in the air was suffocating, each member straining to catch any sign of movement in the swirling fog. The growls and snarls that had surrounded them moments ago seemed to vanish, replaced by an eerie silence. "Was it just... noise?" a goblin whispered, his voice trembling. "Don''t let your guard down," Volk growled, his eyes scanning the void. "This mist is alive. Tricks and illusions are its weapons." Read exclusive adventures at My Virtual Library Empire Suddenly, a faint rustling noise broke the quiet, barely audible but enough to send a chill through the group. The sound grew louder, closer, morphing into a series of wet, slithering noises. The mist around them seemed to ripple, its tendrils shifting and curling like living creatures. The goblins huddled closer, their small forms trembling. Even the ogres, usually stalwart and fearless, shifted uneasily, their massive hands gripping their weapons tighter. Then, without warning, a shape emerged from the mist¡ªa massive, hulking form that loomed over the group. Its body was indistinct, more shadow than substance, but its glowing red eyes burned through the fog like embers in a fire. "It''s real!" one of the goblins screamed, his voice cracking with terror. The creature let out a guttural snarl, the sound vibrating through the air like a thunderclap. Its form shifted and twisted, the edges of its body dissolving into the mist before reforming. It moved with a predatory grace, its steps silent but deliberate as it approached the Horde. "Hold your ground!" Volk bellowed, raising his weapon. "It''s testing us. Don''t break formation!" But fear was a powerful force. One of the goblins broke ranks, stumbling backward as he tried to put distance between himself and the creature. "No!" Volk roared, but it was too late. The monster lunged, its massive maw opening wide as it closed the distance in an instant. The goblin barely had time to scream before the creature snapped its jaws shut around him. The sound of crunching bones and tearing flesh filled the air as the goblin was lifted off the ground and swallowed whole. The Horde stood in stunned silence, their faces pale with shock. But then, something strange happened. The creature paused, its body flickering like a flame in the wind. Its glowing eyes dimmed, and its form began to dissolve, breaking apart into tendrils of mist. The goblin, still whole and unharmed, dropped to the ground with a thud, gasping for air. "What¡ªwhat just happened?" the goblin stammered, his eyes wide with terror. The monster let out a final, guttural growl before disappearing completely, its body dissolving into the mist as though it had never been there. "It wasn''t real," Volk muttered, his eyes narrowing. "A trick of the mist." "But I felt it," the goblin whispered, clutching his chest. "It was real. The pain, the teeth¡ªit was all real." Volk knelt down, his eyes scanning the goblin''s trembling form. There were no wounds, no blood¡ªnothing to suggest he''d been attacked at all. Yet the fear in his eyes was undeniable. "The mist is more dangerous than we thought," Volk said, rising to his feet. "It can manifest illusions so vivid they feel real. But it''s still a trick. It can''t harm us if we don''t let it." "Tell that to my soul," the goblin muttered, earning a sharp glare from Volk. "Steel yourselves!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the fear. "This mountain wants us to falter, to break. But we won''t. Stay together, stay strong, and trust in each other. The mist is mysterious." The Horde trudged through the relentless mist, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint shuffle of feet and the occasional creak of their armor. Volk led the group with sharp vigilance, his eyes scanning the swirling fog that seemed to press in from all directions. The memory of the last encounter weighed heavily on them, the fear of being deceived again by phantom monsters lingering in their minds. The mist thickened further, its tendrils creeping along the ground like searching fingers. The air felt heavier now, each breath a laborious effort. The faint whispers they had grown accustomed to became louder, sharper, resembling a cacophony of indecipherable voices that grated against their nerves. Something was wrong. Volk''s instincts screamed at him. He slowed his steps, raising a hand to signal the Horde to stop. The goblins halted immediately, their small frames tense with unease. The ogres gripped their weapons, their knuckles white against the hafts of their massive clubs. "Stay close," Volk commanded, his voice a low growl. "The mist is playing tricks again, but this time¡­ it feels different." The Horde nodded silently, their eyes darting nervously through the fog. The whispers seemed to grow louder, coalescing into a rhythm, a strange cadence that set their hearts pounding. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Volk saw it. A shadow moved within the mist. It was faint at first, just a flicker of movement that could have been the fog shifting. But then it grew larger, more defined. The shape was massive, its outline jagged and uneven, like a creature formed from the mist itself. It had no clear form, no face, but its presence was undeniable. "Another trick," one of the goblins whispered, his voice shaking. "It''s just like the last one. It''s not real." "Maybe," Volk replied, his gaze locked on the creature. "But don''t assume anything. Stay alert." The shadow moved closer, the mist parting around it like water around a ship''s hull. It was slow, deliberate, each step echoing in the unnatural silence. The whispers grew louder still, almost deafening now, as if the mist itself were alive and screaming. Volk tightened his grip on his weapon. Something about this one felt¡­ tangible. The air around it seemed heavier, denser, as though it were warping reality itself. The creature stopped just a few paces from the Horde, its formless body writhing like a mass of shadows caught in a storm. It towered over them, its presence oppressive and suffocating. The whispers stopped abruptly, plunging the group into a silence so complete it was almost deafening. One of the ogres stepped forward, his massive club raised. "It''s just another illusion," he grunted, his voice steady despite the tension in his stance. "Watch this." He swung the club with all his might, the weapon cutting through the air with a loud whoosh. The mist creature didn''t flinch. Instead, the club passed through it harmlessly, just as they had expected. "See?" the ogre said, turning back to the group. "Nothing but smoke and¡ª" Before he could finish, the creature lunged. It moved with blinding speed, its shadowy form twisting and contorting as it struck. The ogre stumbled back, clutching his arm. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining the ground beneath him. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Horde froze, their eyes wide with shock. "It''s not fake!" one of the goblins screamed, his voice breaking the silence. "It''s real! It''s real!" The creature reared back, its form shifting and solidifying as it prepared to strike again. Volk stepped forward, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with determination. "Hold your ground!" he bellowed. "This one isn''t like the others. Fight!" The Horde snapped out of their stupor, their weapons raised as they prepared to face the very real danger before them. But even as they moved to defend themselves, the creature let out a low, guttural growl, its form rippling with malevolent energy. Volk tightened his grip on his blade, his mind racing. The rules of this mist had just changed. The mist clung to them like a living thing, a shroud that swallowed sight and sound, leaving only the oppressive silence and the occasional, nerve-shredding roar of unseen creatures. Volk led the Horde through the fog, his every step deliberate and cautious. The ground beneath them was uncertain, shifting between solid stone and slick, unsteady soil. Even the wind, which had once been a faint whisper, seemed to have abandoned them. Around them, shadows danced in the mist, flickering in and out of existence like ghosts. The Horde tightened their formation, weapons drawn and eyes darting nervously through the swirling fog. The air was thick with tension, and every faint rustle or distant growl set their nerves on edge. "This place is cursed," one of the goblins muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. "It''s like the mist is alive." "Quiet," Volk snapped, his voice low but firm. "Keep your focus. Whatever''s out there, we''ll deal with it." The words were meant to reassure, but even Volk couldn''t deny the unease crawling up his spine. The mist played tricks on the eyes, turning every shadow into a lurking predator and every faint sound into a threat. Suddenly, a monstrous form emerged from the fog ahead, its hulking shape grotesque and unnatural. The Horde braced themselves, weapons raised, ready to strike. But as they watched, the creature dissolved into the mist, leaving nothing but empty air. "Another fake," one of the ogres grumbled, lowering his club. "This mist is just toying with us." But before they could relax, a second creature appeared, this one smaller but no less menacing. It charged at them with terrifying speed, its glowing eyes piercing through the fog. The Horde attacked, their weapons swinging through the air¡ªonly to find that this creature, too, was nothing more than mist. "This is madness," another goblin whispered, his voice shaky. "How can we fight what isn''t real?" As if in answer, a third creature appeared, this one snarling and snapping its jaws. It leaped at one of the ogres, and for a moment, they hesitated, unsure whether it was another illusion. The ogre swung his club hesitantly, and the creature passed through him like smoke. "See? Nothing but tricks," the ogre muttered, but his confidence was short-lived. A fourth creature materialized behind him, its claws raking across his back. He roared in pain, stumbling forward as blood seeped through his armor. "That one''s real!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the confusion. "Some are illusions, but not all of them!" The Horde froze, their eyes darting frantically between the shifting shadows in the mist. The line between real and unreal blurred, leaving them paralyzed with uncertainty. A goblin screamed as another creature lunged at him, its massive jaws closing around his arm. He swung his dagger wildly, but it passed harmlessly through the creature''s form, leaving him unscathed. The goblin collapsed to the ground, trembling and clutching his arm as if he could still feel the phantom pain. "Focus!" Volk roared, his voice a thunderous command. "If it''s real, it''ll leave a mark. If it''s fake, ignore it!" But his words did little to quell the panic spreading through the ranks. The mist seemed to close in on them, the whispers rising to a deafening chorus of laughter and growls. Creatures appeared and disappeared all around them, their forms shifting and warping, some real, some not. A massive clawed hand swiped at an ogre, leaving a deep gash across his chest. He stumbled back, roaring in pain, as another creature lunged at him¡ªonly to vanish before making contact. "We can''t tell which is real!" a goblin cried, his voice breaking with fear. "How do we fight this?" Volk''s jaw tightened as he parried a strike from a creature that dissolved into mist. The Horde was in disarray, their formation crumbling under the relentless onslaught of illusions and genuine attacks. Another creature leaped at them, its glowing eyes filled with malice. This one was real; Volk could feel the weight of its presence as he struck it down with a swift slash of his blade. But as it fell, another appeared, and then another, each more menacing than the last. The Horde was exhausted, their movements sluggish, their strikes less precise. Every swing of their weapons felt like a gamble, unsure whether they were striking at an actual threat or wasting their strength on shadows. Then, through the chaos, one of the goblins turned to Volk, his eyes wide with fear. Blood dripped from a shallow cut on his cheek, his breathing ragged. "Leader," he gasped, his voice trembling, "what do we do now? How do we fight something we can''t see? Something we don''t understand?" All eyes turned to Volk, their fear and confusion mirrored in his own. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the whispers in the mist fading to a haunting silence. Chapter 331 Mist of fear The mist wrapped around them like a suffocating blanket, shifting and swirling, obscuring everything in sight. The growls and snarls of unseen monsters reverberated through the fog, a cacophony that set the Horde''s nerves on edge. Volk stood in the middle of the disarray, his sword in hand, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows for any hint of truth amidst the deceit. The Horde was struggling, their breaths ragged, their strikes more erratic with each passing moment. Everywhere he turned, the mist seemed alive, conjuring forms that loomed over them with malicious intent. Yet Volk knew better now. Some of the creatures weren''t real. They were nothing more than illusions meant to drive them to despair. But others¡ªthe real ones¡ªwere deadly enough to cause chaos among even the strongest of his Horde. Volk''s mind raced as he observed the attacks. The fake creatures dissolved into nothing when struck, leaving only the frustration of wasted energy. The real ones left marks, drawing blood and sapping their strength. He gritted his teeth, frustration mounting as he tried to discern the pattern, to make sense of the chaos. But there was no clear solution. The mist monsters moved too quickly, too erratically. Real or fake, they blended into the fog, their forms flickering in and out of existence like phantoms. Volk clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his weapon. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Then it hit him. He wasn''t just fighting illusions; they were fighting their own fear. The mist preyed on their uncertainty, their hesitation. It was a test of trust, of instinct. But how could they trust their instincts when the very ground beneath them seemed to lie? Volk closed his eyes for a moment, shutting out the madness, shutting out the swirling mist. In that brief moment of darkness, he listened¡ªtruly listened. The growls were there, but they weren''t everywhere. The whispers were faint, and the air itself felt lighter without the visual distractions. "Close your eyes!" Volk roared, his voice booming through the fog. Your journey continues at My Virtual Library Empire The Horde turned to him, confusion and fear etched into their faces. "What?" a goblin stammered, barely able to hold his trembling dagger. "Close your eyes!" Volk repeated, louder this time. "All of you! Trust me!" "Close our eyes? But the monsters¡ª" "Do it now!" Volk''s command was like a whip crack, and slowly, reluctantly, the Horde began to comply. One by one, they hesitated, unsure whether to trust his strange order. An ogre was the first to obey, dropping his massive club and squeezing his eyes shut. His breath came in heavy, uneven gasps, his muscles tensing as if bracing for an unseen attack. A goblin followed, clutching his weapon tightly as he shut his eyes, trembling like a leaf in a storm. Another ogre, then another goblin, then more. Each of them closed their eyes, their hands gripping their weapons, their postures defensive. The mist seemed to react, swirling faster, the fake monsters appearing more frequently, their forms larger and more grotesque. One lunged at a goblin, its massive jaws snapping mere inches from his face. He flinched but kept his eyes closed, his grip tightening on his weapon. "Good!" Volk barked, his own eyes still open as he watched over them. "Don''t open them, no matter what you hear, no matter what you feel! Just trust me!" The Horde obeyed, their breathing heavy but steady. The mist monsters became more aggressive, their movements erratic and unpredictable. One swung its massive claw at an ogre, who stood still, unflinching. The claw passed through him harmlessly, dissolving into the mist. Volk grinned. It was working. But then, one of the real monsters appeared. Its glowing red eyes pierced through the fog as it crept closer to an unsuspecting goblin. Volk moved like lightning, his blade slicing through the creature before it could strike. It let out a pained roar, its form collapsing into the mist, leaving no trace behind. "Keep your eyes closed!" Volk shouted again, his voice filled with authority. "You''re safe as long as you listen to me!" The Horde tightened their formation, their eyes firmly shut. The mist seemed to grow angrier, the whispers rising into a deafening cacophony. The fake monsters lunged and roared, their forms growing more distorted and monstrous. But none of the Horde flinched. Volk''s eyes darted around, watching for any signs of the real monsters. He struck swiftly and decisively, cutting them down before they could harm his people. The mist began to falter, its grip loosening as the Horde refused to give in to its illusions. The air grew quieter, the growls fading into the distance. The mist monsters appeared less frequently, their forms dissolving more quickly. Volk kept his focus, his every movement precise as he dispatched the remaining real creatures. Finally, the mist began to clear. The thick, oppressive fog lifted, revealing the rocky terrain beneath their feet. The growls and whispers were gone, replaced by an eerie silence. "Open your eyes," Volk commanded, his voice calm but firm. The Horde obeyed, their eyes blinking against the sudden clarity. They looked around, their expressions a mix of relief and awe. The mist was gone, the monsters vanquished. "You did well," Volk said, his voice carrying a rare note of pride. "You trusted me. And we won because of it." The Horde let out a collective sigh of relief, their tense shoulders relaxing. They had survived the mist, the illusions, the real and fake threats. And they had done it together. Soon, the air grew lighter, and as the last remnants of the oppressive mist dissipated, the Horde stood in stunned silence. Then, like a dam breaking, laughter erupted. It started as a nervous chuckle from one goblin, then spread like wildfire until it became a roaring celebration. They laughed with relief, with joy, and with the exhilaration of surviving what had felt like certain doom. "Did you see that? The mist just vanished!" one goblin exclaimed, waving his arms as if to push away invisible fog. "And those monsters¡ªfake ones, real ones¡ªI couldn''t even tell anymore!" an ogre bellowed, his booming laughter shaking loose pebbles from nearby rocks. Another goblin, smaller than the rest, jumped up and down, his high-pitched giggle infectious. "I thought we were goners! But Volk knew! Volk knew exactly what to do!" All eyes turned to Volk, who stood a little apart from the group, his arms crossed and his expression thoughtful. But even Volk, their steadfast leader, couldn''t suppress a small grin as he watched the Horde celebrating. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as the goblins, ogres, and other creatures crowded around him. "Volk!" one of them called out, a goblin with a lopsided helmet that barely stayed on his head. "How did you know? How did you figure it out?" "Yeah!" another chimed in, his eyes wide with admiration. "You knew the fake ones from the real ones! And that trick with the eyes¡ªhow did you think of that?" Volk raised a hand, silencing the questions with a single motion. "It wasn''t magic," he began, his voice calm but firm. "It wasn''t some ancient knowledge passed down through generations. And it wasn''t because I had some hidden insight into these creatures." The Horde leaned in, hanging on his every word. Even the ogres, usually too impatient for speeches, looked at him with genuine curiosity. Volk pointed to his head. "It was logic. Think about it. The mist played with our senses. It showed us things that weren''t real. But the real monsters? They left marks. They hurt us. That''s the difference. Once I realized that, I had to gamble on one simple truth: the mist relies on our fear. If we didn''t see it, if we didn''t react to it, it lost its power." The Horde murmured among themselves, nodding at his explanation. It made sense, after all. But one goblin, braver than the rest, raised his hand timidly. "But¡­ but Volk, how did you know it would work? What if the monsters were still real, even if we couldn''t see them?" Volk let out a laugh, deep and hearty, that startled the Horde. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "I didn''t." The crowd fell silent, staring at him with wide eyes. "I didn''t know," Volk admitted, his grin widening. "It was a gamble. A big one. But sometimes, you have to take risks when the odds are stacked against you." He shrugged, his tone casual, as if he hadn''t just gambled with all their lives. "I figured we were already in trouble, so why not try something different?" The Horde stared at him for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. "A gamble!" one ogre roared, slapping his massive thigh. "Our leader''s just as crazy as the rest of us!" "And it worked!" another goblin shouted, throwing his hands into the air. The laughter grew louder, echoing off the rocky terrain. The tension from before melted away as the Horde celebrated their survival, their trust in Volk, and the sheer absurdity of it all. Volk stood in the middle of the commotion, watching them with a faint smile. He couldn''t help but chuckle along with them. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he said, shaking his head. "But remember this: sometimes a gamble pays off. And sometimes it doesn''t. Next time, I''d rather we not rely on luck." The Horde''s laughter continued, unabated, as they began recounting their individual moments of panic and relief. One goblin mimicked the way another had screamed when a mist monster lunged at him, earning uproarious laughter from the group. An ogre demonstrated how he had blindly swung his club, hitting nothing but air, which only added to the hilarity. But as the celebration carried on, Volk''s eyes turned to the mist lingering at the edges of their vision. Though it had cleared enough to reveal the path ahead, he could see it shifting and swirling, as if biding its time. The roars and whispers had stopped, but the mist was still there, still alive in some way. He frowned, his instincts warning him that this reprieve was temporary. Turning back to his Horde, he raised a hand again, silencing their laughter. "Listen up!" he barked, his tone commanding. The Horde quieted instantly, their eyes snapping to him. "We''re not out of this yet. The mist might be gone for now, but it''ll come back. And when it does, we need a safe place to rest." One of the goblins raised a hand. "What do we do, Volk?" Volk scanned their surroundings, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the rocky terrain. "We find a cave," he said firmly. "Somewhere we can barricade ourselves in if we need to. Somewhere the mist can''t reach us." The Horde nodded, their earlier joy replaced by determination. As they began to gather their belongings and prepare to move, Volk took one last look at the mist in the distance. It was still there, swirling ominously. "We''ll be ready," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. Then, louder, he called out to his Horde, "Move out! Let''s find shelter before night falls!" And with that, they began their cautious descent, the echoes of their earlier laughter fading as the weight of the mist''s threat settled back upon them. Chapter 332 Strange Quiet The night settled over the misty mountain, blanketing everything in a suffocating darkness that seemed almost tangible. Inside the cramped, hidden cave, the Horde sat in tense silence, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of a small, makeshift fire. Shadows danced on the walls, twisting into shapes that mimicked the monstrous forms they had encountered earlier in the mist. The quiet was unsettling. The sound of their own breathing and the occasional crackle of the fire felt deafening in the stillness. It was as if the very world outside had been swallowed whole, leaving them alone in a void. Then, a sound broke through the silence¡ªa low, guttural growl that seemed to echo from the mist itself. The Horde froze, their eyes darting to the cave entrance. One goblin clutched his knees, rocking slightly as if trying to comfort himself. "It''s just the wind," he whispered, his voice trembling. But then came another sound, this one sharper¡ªa snapping noise, like the breaking of brittle bones. It was closer, more distinct, and undeniably unnatural. "That''s no wind," muttered an ogre, his deep voice barely above a whisper. He gripped his massive club tightly, his knuckles whitening. The sounds outside grew louder, more varied. A low rumble, a high-pitched shriek, and something that sounded like claws scraping against stone. The noises seemed to come from every direction, surrounding the cave like an unseen predator circling its prey. The smallest goblin, barely more than a child, clung to the leg of a larger goblin. "What is it? Are they¡­ are they real this time?" "No one knows," grunted another ogre, his eyes locked on the entrance. "And I don''t want to find out." The scraping grew louder, closer, and was joined by the sound of something wet, like the slithering of a massive serpent dragging itself across the ground. The Horde huddled closer together, their collective breath hitching as the noises intensified. Volk sat at the edge of the group, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on the faint outline of the cave entrance. He didn''t speak, didn''t move, but his mind was racing. He could feel the fear radiating from his people, their trust in him balanced precariously on the edge of their growing panic. A sudden roar split the night, so loud and guttural that it seemed to shake the very walls of the cave. It was followed by the sound of heavy, pounding footsteps that stopped just short of the entrance. The Horde flinched as one, some of the goblins letting out small cries. One ogre instinctively raised his club, ready to swing at whatever might come through the opening. Then, silence. The absence of sound was almost worse than the noise itself. It pressed down on them, heavy and suffocating, as if the darkness outside was alive and waiting. "What¡­ what''s out there?" a goblin whispered, his voice barely audible. Volk finally spoke, his voice low but firm. "It doesn''t matter." The Horde turned to him, their eyes wide with fear and desperation. "If it''s real, we''ll deal with it," Volk continued. "If it''s not, then it''s just the mist playing tricks on us again. Either way, sitting here and trembling won''t help." Explore more adventures at My Virtual Library Empire S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "But what if it gets in?" one goblin asked, his voice cracking. "It won''t," Volk said, his tone brooking no argument. "We''ve blocked the entrance well enough. Whatever''s out there can''t get to us." As if to challenge his words, another roar echoed outside, followed by a chorus of shrill, inhuman screams. The sounds were more intense now, more visceral, and the Horde clutched their weapons tightly. One of the ogres shifted uncomfortably, his massive frame casting a shadow over the smaller goblins. "It''s getting louder," he muttered, his deep voice betraying a hint of unease. Volk''s gaze remained steady, though his mind was anything but calm. He couldn''t show fear. Not now. Not when they needed him to be their anchor. The sounds continued¡ªscraping, growling, shrieking¡ªinterspersed with occasional thuds that sounded like something heavy hitting the ground. The Horde couldn''t tell if the noises were moving closer or farther away, but each sound felt like a fresh assault on their already frayed nerves. A sudden, piercing howl filled the air, followed by what sounded like laughter¡ªdeep, guttural, and mocking. The sound sent a shiver down their spines, and one of the goblins whimpered, covering his ears. "Make it stop," he pleaded, his voice muffled. "I can''t take it anymore." "It''s just noise," Volk said sharply, his tone cutting through the panic. "Don''t let it get to you." But even Volk couldn''t deny that the sounds were growing more intense, more invasive. They seemed to worm their way into their minds, amplifying their fear and feeding the mist''s malevolent presence. The fire flickered, its light dimming as if even it were being consumed by the oppressive atmosphere. Shadows grew longer and darker, and the walls of the cave seemed to close in around them. "Volk," one of the goblins said, his voice barely a whisper. "What if¡­ what if this place really is cursed? What if the mist never lets us go?" Volk didn''t answer immediately. He stared at the fire, his expression unreadable. Then, he looked up, his eyes sharp and determined. "We''ll get through this," he said firmly. "We''ve survived worse. The mist won''t break us." The Horde nodded hesitantly, clinging to his words like a lifeline. Another roar echoed outside, followed by the sound of something crashing into the rocks near the entrance. The entire cave shook, and dust fell from the ceiling. "Enough," Volk said, standing abruptly. His commanding presence silenced the whispers and murmurs. "This is just another trial. We''ve faced danger before, and we''ll face it again. But right now, we need to rest. No more worrying, no more listening to the noises outside. Rest. That''s an order." The Horde exchanged uneasy glances but ultimately nodded. One by one, they began to settle down, though their grip on their weapons remained tight. Volk sat down near the entrance, his eyes scanning the shifting shadows beyond the cave. The sounds continued, but he forced himself to block them out, focusing instead on the slow, steady breaths of his people as they drifted into a restless sleep. The morning came not with the warmth of sunlight, but with the same oppressive grayness of the mist that had haunted them throughout the night. It seeped into the cave like an unwelcome guest, brushing against their skin and carrying with it an eerie stillness that made every breath feel heavier. One by one, the Horde stirred awake, their expressions groggy and pale. The night had been restless for most, filled with dreams that blurred the line between reality and the horrors of the mist outside. The fire had long since burned out, leaving only a faint trail of smoke curling into the stale air. The silence was deafening. After the cacophony of monstrous roars, shrieks, and scraping claws that had surrounded them, the absence of sound now felt like its own kind of predator, lying in wait to pounce the moment they let their guard down. A goblin sat up, rubbing his eyes with trembling hands. "It''s¡­ quiet," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His words echoed faintly in the confined space, as if the mist itself were mocking his attempt to break the silence. Another goblin, older and scarred, shot him a sharp glance. "Don''t say it like that," he hissed. "Quiet doesn''t mean safe." "But¡­" the younger goblin stammered, looking toward the cave''s entrance, where the mist coiled like a living thing. "Shouldn''t we¡­ check? Maybe it''s over?" An ogre sitting near the back snorted, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "Over? Do you think those things just stop because we got lucky for one night?" His voice was rough and gravelly, but there was a trace of unease in it. "No, they''re out there. Watching. Waiting." "Waiting for what?" another goblin asked, his voice trembling. "For us to step out," the ogre replied grimly. The group fell into uneasy silence, the weight of his words pressing down on them. The thought of stepping into the mist again, after everything they had endured, was enough to make their stomachs churn. "But it''s¡­ too quiet," another goblin whispered, clutching his knees to his chest. "Last night, it was all roars and screams. Now there''s nothing. Isn''t that worse?" The ogre narrowed his eyes at him. "Worse how?" The goblin hesitated, his gaze flicking nervously to the mist. "Because¡­ because it feels like they''re gone. But what if they''re not? What if they''re just¡­ hiding? Waiting for us to think it''s safe?" "That''s ridiculous," another goblin interjected, his voice strained but defiant. "Monsters don''t hide. They attack. If it''s quiet, it means they''re gone." "Or it means they''re smarter than we think," the scarred goblin muttered darkly. The tension in the cave was palpable, each word adding another layer to the mounting anxiety. Even the ogres, usually stoic and composed, seemed unsettled by the debate. The smallest goblin, barely more than a child, clung to the leg of one of the ogres. "I don''t want to go out there," he whimpered. "What if they''re waiting for us?" The ogre patted his head awkwardly but didn''t say anything. His silence spoke louder than words. One of the goblins near the entrance shifted uncomfortably, peering into the swirling mist beyond. "We can''t stay here forever," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. "If they''re out there, we''ll have to face them eventually. Right?" Another goblin scoffed. "And what if they''re not out there? What if we''re just scaring ourselves over nothing?" "Nothing?" the older goblin snapped, his voice rising. "Did you see what happened last night? Did you hear those roars? Those weren''t nothing!" "That was last night!" the other goblin shot back. "This is now! Look outside¡ªthere''s nothing there!" "Because we''re still inside the cave!" the older goblin yelled. "Step out, and we''ll see just how much ''nothing'' is waiting for us!" The argument escalated quickly, voices overlapping in a cacophony of fear and frustration. Some argued that they should stay put until they were certain it was safe, while others insisted that staying would only prolong their suffering. "The mist isn''t going anywhere!" one goblin shouted. "And neither are we if we keep hiding!" another retorted. "Enough!" the ogre near the back bellowed, his deep voice cutting through the noise like a thunderclap. The goblins fell silent, turning to him with wide eyes. He glared at them, his expression dark. "Arguing won''t get us anywhere. We need a plan." "A plan?" one of the goblins muttered. "What kind of plan? We can''t even agree on whether to stay or leave!" Another goblin shook his head. "This isn''t about plans. This is about survival. And if we want to survive, we need to stop being afraid of shadows." "But what if they''re not shadows?" the smallest goblin whispered, his voice trembling. "What if they''re real?" The group fell silent again, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. Finally, all eyes turned to Volk. He had been sitting quietly near the fire''s remains, his expression unreadable. His sharp eyes scanned the group, taking in their fear, their uncertainty, and their desperate need for guidance. "Volk," one goblin said hesitantly. "What¡­ what should we do?" Another goblin chimed in, his voice tight with fear. "Do we stay? Do we go? Tell us." Even the ogres, usually so independent, looked to him now, their massive forms looming in the dim light as they waited for his decision. Volk didn''t answer immediately. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on the mist outside. "Let''s go outside," he suddenly muttered. Chapter 333 Strange day The oppressive mist still clung to the air, wrapping the world in its eerie shroud as Volk stood by the mouth of the cave. He didn''t bother hiding his irritation, his sharp eyes narrowing at the gathered members of the horde. They milled about hesitantly, shuffling their feet, avoiding his gaze, and mumbling excuses that barely rose above whispers. The sound of the silence outside was unsettling, yes, but the tension inside the cave was growing unbearable. One goblin, the smallest and most timid, spoke up, his voice trembling. "M-Maybe we should wait a bit longer, Volk. You know¡­ just to be sure? The mist might still be dangerous." A second goblin, older and scarred, nodded in agreement. "Yeah. What''s the harm in waiting another hour or so? We don''t even know what''s out there. If we go now, we might just be walking into a trap." An ogre, massive and imposing, crossed his arms over his chest and rumbled his agreement. "The mist feels¡­ wrong. You felt it too, Volk. This place is unnatural. If we leave now, we might regret it." Volk turned slowly, his eyes locking onto the ogre with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel. His lips curled into a sneer as he took a deliberate step forward. "Regret it?" His voice was low, dangerous, the kind of tone that made even the most hardened warrior flinch. "You''re afraid of regret? Or is it just fear? Cowardice, maybe?" The ogre stiffened but didn''t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor. Another goblin piped up nervously, wringing his hands. "We''re just saying, Volk. It''s not cowardice. It''s caution. There''s no point in rushing out there and getting killed if we can avoid it. Right?" Volk''s eyes snapped to the goblin, his expression darkening. "Caution?" he hissed, his voice rising with each word. "You call this caution? Huddling in a damp, cramped cave, too afraid to step into the light? Is that what the horde has become? A pack of sniveling, spineless wretches, cowering in fear of shadows?" The goblins and ogres exchanged uneasy glances, murmuring among themselves, but none dared to meet Volk''s furious gaze. "Let me make something very clear," Volk continued, his voice booming now, reverberating off the cave walls. "We are not sheep. We are not prey. We are a horde! A force to be reckoned with! We have faced beasts, skyborne foes, and this cursed mist, and we have won. And now you stand here, shaking in your boots, telling me we should wait? For what? For the mist to swallow us whole? For the creatures out there to grow bold and come knocking at our door?" He began pacing, his movements sharp and restless, his words cutting through their excuses like a blade. "You talk of caution, of safety, as if such things exist for us. We are warriors. Survivors. The moment we start hiding, the moment we let fear dictate our actions, we have already lost! Do you think the world will wait for you to feel brave enough? Do you think the monsters out there will care if you''re ready? No! They will tear you apart the moment you hesitate. And if you stand here, frozen in fear, then you might as well dig your own graves now." The smallest goblin whimpered, shrinking back against the cave wall. One of the ogres opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it when Volk turned his burning gaze on him. "You dare call yourselves a horde?" Volk spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "A horde stands united. A horde fights, no matter the odds. A horde doesn''t cower! If you cannot face the mist, if you cannot summon the courage to step outside this pathetic little hole in the ground, then you do not deserve to stand among us. You are not warriors. You are not my horde. You are nothing." The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of Volk''s words hung heavy in the air, pressing down on each of them like a physical force. The goblins and ogres shifted uncomfortably, their faces a mixture of shame and fear. Finally, one of the older goblins stepped forward hesitantly, his head bowed. "You''re right, Volk," he said quietly. "We''ve let our fear control us. But¡­ it''s not easy. The mist, the silence¡­ it''s unnatural. It gets inside your head. We''re not saying we don''t want to fight. We''re just¡­" "Weak?" Volk finished for him, his tone icy. The goblin flinched but nodded reluctantly. "Well," Volk said, his voice softening slightly but still firm, "then it''s time to stop being weak. Strength isn''t given. It''s earned. And it''s time for you to earn it. We are leaving. Now." The horde hesitated, exchanging uncertain looks, but the fire in Volk''s eyes brooked no argument. Slowly, grudgingly, they began to gather their things. Volk crossed his arms, watching them with a critical eye. "Good. You''re learning. But don''t mistake this for a choice. You either walk out of this cave with me, or you stay here and die alone. The mist doesn''t care about your excuses. And neither do I." With that, he turned sharply on his heel and strode toward the cave''s entrance, his steps purposeful and unyielding. One by one, the members of the horde followed, some muttering under their breath, others silent and resigned. As they stepped into the mist, the oppressive silence outside was like a living thing, wrapping around them and amplifying every creak of armor, every shuffle of feet. The tension was palpable, but they moved forward, united in their fear and determination. Volk led the way, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression hard and unyielding. Behind him, the horde followed, their steps heavy but resolute. They had no choice now. The oppressive silence enveloped them like a suffocating shroud as they trudged forward through the mist. Each step seemed heavier than the last, and though they had left the cave, the world outside felt no less confining. The thick fog swallowed everything in its path, blurring shapes and obscuring distances. What little light filtered through was dim, barely enough to distinguish the forms of their comrades a few paces away. But something felt wrong. The first to voice it was a goblin, his sharp eyes darting nervously around as he whispered, "Why''s it so dark? It was morning when we came out... wasn''t it?" Another goblin stopped in his tracks, furrowing his brow. "Yeah, it should be brighter. The sun should be burning through the mist by now." An ogre, larger and slower to notice, glanced around and muttered, "It''s the mist. Must be blocking out the light." "No," the first goblin said, shaking his head. "This isn''t just the mist. Even if it''s thick, there should be shadows, outlines of something. But it''s like¡­" His voice trailed off, and his gaze dropped to the ground. "It''s like we''re walking in the dark," another finished for him, his voice barely above a whisper. The realization rippled through the group, and soon the horde began murmuring among themselves, their voices filled with growing unease. "Maybe we''ve been walking in circles?" one of them suggested, glancing nervously at the ground. "No, Volk''s leading us straight. He wouldn''t let us get lost," another argued, though his voice carried little conviction. Read new adventures at My Virtual Library Empire "But then why does it feel like this? Why can''t we see the sun?" Volk, striding ahead, had remained silent throughout their nervous chatter. His piercing eyes scanned the surroundings with a focused intensity that none of the others could match. Unlike the others, he wasn''t muttering theories or second-guessing their steps. He was observing, every fiber of his being tuned to the strange atmosphere around them. And strange it was. It wasn''t just the light¡ªor lack thereof¡ªthat unsettled him. It was the texture of the air, the way it pressed against his skin. The mist no longer seemed to be merely a passive veil of moisture. It felt heavier, denser, almost alive. Every inhale carried with it a faint metallic tang, as though the air itself had turned hostile. "Why is it so quiet?" a goblin suddenly whispered, his voice trembling. "Last night, there were roars, growls, footsteps. Now it''s¡­ nothing. Not even the wind." S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Another goblin nodded, his ears twitching. "Yeah. No birds. No insects. It''s like¡­" "Like the world''s gone dead," an ogre finished grimly. Volk finally stopped walking, his boots grinding against the damp earth. The silence was absolute now, broken only by the muffled rustling of his horde shifting uneasily behind him. He turned his head slightly, scanning the mist with narrowed eyes. The landscape¡ªor what little of it he could see¡ªoffered no clues. The ground beneath them was solid, but beyond that, it was hard to tell where they were anymore. "I don''t like this," one of the goblins muttered, his hands gripping his makeshift weapon tightly. "None of us do," another replied, his knuckles white around his axe. "No, I mean... I really don''t like this," the first goblin insisted. "Something''s wrong. I can feel it." Volk''s eyes flicked to the ground briefly. The grass, damp and flattened under their feet, seemed normal enough. But when his gaze traveled outward, the boundaries of what they had seen earlier¡ªstones, ridges, distant outlines of trees¡ªhad vanished. The mist had consumed everything. "Spread out," Volk ordered, his voice calm but firm. "Find something¡ªanything. Tracks, markings, anything that tells us where we are." The horde hesitated, exchanging wary glances. "Now!" Volk barked, his tone sharp enough to cut through their hesitation. Reluctantly, they obeyed, fanning out in pairs and searching the immediate area. The goblins, with their sharp eyes, crouched low, scanning the ground for clues. The ogres moved slower, their heavy footfalls barely audible on the soft earth. Minutes passed. The mist seemed to thicken with every breath, clinging to their skin, seeping into their armor. Their movements grew slower, more uncertain, as the oppressive atmosphere weighed on them. "Anything?" Volk called out, his voice slicing through the silence. "Nothing!" came the frustrated reply from a goblin. "Just more mist!" "It''s like the land''s disappeared!" Volk clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting. He could feel the tension in the air, the growing panic among his horde. The mist wasn''t just obscuring their vision¡ªit was eroding their morale. "Keep looking!" he snapped, his voice carrying an edge of irritation. But deep down, even Volk was beginning to feel it. There was something off about this place. Something unnatural. "Volk!" one of the goblins called out suddenly, his voice tinged with alarm. "Over here!" Volk strode toward him, his expression hardening. "What is it?" The goblin pointed to the ground. "The grass¡ªit''s not here anymore." Volk''s eyes narrowed as he crouched down, running his fingers over the earth. The goblin was right. The soft grass that had been underfoot moments ago had disappeared, replaced by barren, rocky soil. "Strange," he muttered under his breath. Another goblin approached, his face pale. "Volk, it''s not just the grass. The stones, the landmarks¡ªthey''re gone too. It''s like... we''re not in the same place anymore." Volk''s gaze snapped upward, scanning the mist once more. His sharp instincts, honed through countless battles, told him that something was amiss. His horde had been moving forward steadily. They couldn''t have lost their way, not this badly. The mist shifted subtly, curling and coiling like a living thing. Volk felt his skin prickle as a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached his ears¡ªa low hum, barely audible, but unmistakably there. His hand tightened on the hilt of his weapon. "Everyone, regroup!" he ordered sharply. The horde quickly complied, their movements hurried and nervous. "What is it?" an ogre asked, his voice low and wary. Volk didn''t answer immediately. His eyes were fixed upward now, scanning the swirling mist above. There was something there, something just beyond his vision. He could feel it. And then, slowly, he raised his head fully, his gaze piercing through the oppressive haze. Chapter 334 Giant rumbles The mist parted like a curtain, and there it was¡ªa giant. Not just any giant, but a being so massive that it seemed to embody the mountain itself. Its colossal form loomed above them, casting an oppressive shadow that made even the mighty ogres in the horde seem like tiny, insignificant insects. Its torso alone was wider than any cave they had encountered, a wall of rippling muscle and coarse, stone-like flesh. Its head, crowned with jagged horns that scraped against the swirling mist, tilted slightly, as though listening to the very earth beneath its feet. The creature''s breath came in deep, guttural exhalations, each one reverberating like distant thunder. Even from a distance, Volk could feel the sheer weight of its presence, an ancient, primal force that made his instincts scream to retreat. Its eyes, glowing faintly in the dimness, swept across the mist-covered land, seemingly unbothered by the haze that blinded them. "What the hell is that?" a goblin whispered, his voice trembling as he clutched his weapon tightly. "Some kind of mountain spirit?" another guessed, his wide eyes fixed on the creature''s enormous, clawed hands that dragged across the ground, crushing everything in their path. "It''s a giant," one of the ogres rumbled, his voice low with awe. "Bigger than any we''ve ever seen. Bigger than any I''ve ever seen." "Look at it!" a goblin hissed, his voice rising in panic. "Its foot is bigger than an ogre!" The horde murmured nervously, the fear in their ranks palpable. Some instinctively stepped back, others tightened their grip on their weapons, and a few looked to Volk, waiting for his command. "Let''s attack it!" one of the ogres growled, slamming his fist into his palm. "Bring it down before it notices us!" "No," Volk snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. "But Volk!" the ogre protested. "If it sees us, we''re dead anyway! Better to strike first!" "And how, exactly, do you plan to strike it?" Volk spat, his piercing gaze silencing the ogre instantly. "You think your pitiful axe will even scratch it? Look at its legs! You can''t even reach its knees, let alone its chest! Or its head!" The horde fell silent, their bravado quickly fading under Volk''s scathing words. "Fools," Volk muttered under his breath. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. He could feel the faint stirrings of his rage, the energy deep within him that called for release, for destruction. If he transformed into his radioactive form, he might stand a chance. Might. But that wasn''t the problem. Transforming here would draw attention¡ªnot just from the giant, but from whatever else lurked in these cursed mists. And even if he could defeat it, the cost to his horde could be catastrophic. No, brute strength wasn''t the answer. Not here. "Listen to me," Volk said, his voice low but commanding. "We''re not attacking it." "What?" several voices exclaimed at once, disbelief and fear mingling in their tones. "You heard me," Volk growled, his eyes narrowing. "We''re not fighting it. We''re letting it pass." "Let it pass?" a goblin echoed, his voice incredulous. "What if it steps on us?" "Then don''t give it a reason to notice us!" Volk snapped, his glare silencing the goblin. "This isn''t some common beast you can stab or shoot. This is a creature of the mountain¡ªan ancient force. If we make one wrong move, we''re all dead. Do you understand me?" The horde nodded reluctantly, their fear evident in their eyes. "Good," Volk said, his tone brooking no argument. "Now, listen carefully. We move slowly. No sudden movements, no noise. Keep your weapons sheathed. Don''t even breathe too loudly. We stay low, we stay silent, and we let it pass. Got it?" The horde murmured their agreement, though their unease was clear. "I said, got it?" Volk barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through their hesitation. "Yes, Volk!" they replied in unison, though their voices trembled. Satisfied, Volk turned his gaze back to the giant. It hadn''t noticed them yet, its massive form lumbering forward with slow, deliberate steps. Each footfall sent a tremor through the ground, the vibrations rattling their bones. "Move," Volk ordered, his voice low but firm. "Now." The horde began to move, their steps careful and deliberate. The goblins crouched low, their small forms blending into the mist. The ogres, though much larger, moved with surprising grace, their heavy footfalls muffled by the damp ground. Volk led them, his sharp eyes never leaving the giant. He watched its movements carefully, noting the rhythm of its steps, the way its glowing eyes scanned the land. He gestured for the horde to stop whenever the giant''s gaze swept in their direction, and they froze, barely daring to breathe. The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as they crept through the mist, each step a test of their patience and discipline. The giant''s massive form loomed closer and closer, its sheer size making it impossible to ignore. "Volk," a goblin whispered, his voice barely audible. "It''s too close. What if it sees us?" "Then don''t give it a reason to look," Volk replied coldly, his eyes fixed on the giant. The horde continued to move, their hearts pounding in their chests. The giant was so close now that they could see the texture of its skin, the deep cracks and ridges that marked its ancient body. Its breath washed over them, warm and humid, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and stone. "Stay low," Volk whispered, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Stay quiet." The giant paused, its massive head tilting slightly as though listening. The horde froze, their breaths catching in their throats. For a terrifying moment, the creature seemed to focus on them, its glowing eyes narrowing. Volk held up a hand, signaling for them to stay still. The giant sniffed the air, its massive chest rising and falling with each breath. Then, slowly, it turned away, its attention shifting to something in the distance. "Move," Volk whispered urgently. The horde resumed their careful march, their movements slow and deliberate. The giant continued to move away, its massive form disappearing into the mist. When it was finally out of sight, the horde let out a collective sigh of relief. "We did it," a goblin whispered, his voice trembling. "Quiet," Volk snapped, his gaze still fixed on the mist where the giant had disappeared. "We''re not safe yet." The horde nodded, their fear keeping them silent as they continued their careful journey through the mist. As the horde slowly trudged through the oppressive mist, their breathing still unsteady from the nerve-wracking encounter, the tension in the air refused to dissipate. Each step felt like a gamble, the dampness of the mist clinging to their skin like a warning they couldn''t shake. Volk led them cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning the swirling veil around them. Every shadow seemed to shift, every sound felt magnified, as though the mountain itself was watching them. The moment of reprieve was shattered by a low, distant rumble. The sound echoed through the mist, like a landslide rolling down unseen slopes. Volk froze, his hand shooting up in a sharp signal for silence. The horde stopped in their tracks, their eyes wide as they strained to listen. The rumble grew louder, closer. It wasn''t the sound of falling rocks. It was something heavier, deliberate¡ªa rhythm they now recognized. Thud. The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet. Thud. The vibrations grew stronger. Thud. The horde''s collective breath caught as a familiar, towering shape began to emerge from the mist. The giant was returning. The creature''s massive form materialized, its bulk blocking out what little light filtered through the mist. Its glowing eyes pierced the fog, scanning the area with a slow, deliberate intensity. The horde instinctively shrank back, some dropping to their knees in an attempt to make themselves as small as possible. "Stay calm," Volk hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. "No sudden movements." The giant''s gaze swept over them, pausing momentarily. Volk''s hand twitched, ready to signal the horde to scatter if necessary. The creature''s glowing eyes lingered, its head tilting slightly as though it were considering them. The air felt suffocating, the weight of its presence pressing down on them. Each second stretched into an eternity as the horde waited for the inevitable¡ªan attack, a charge, a single step that would crush them where they stood. But the giant didn''t move toward them. Instead, it turned slightly, its massive shoulders brushing against a rocky outcrop as it began to lumber past. Thud. Thud. Thud. Its footsteps reverberated through the ground, each one a reminder of the immense power it wielded. The horde remained frozen, their eyes darting between Volk and the giant, unsure if it was truly ignoring them or merely toying with them. "Keep your heads down," Volk ordered quietly, his voice sharp and commanding. "No noise. Not even a whisper." The horde obeyed, their fear palpable. A goblin crouched so low that his chin almost touched the ground, his trembling hands gripping his dagger as though it could protect him. One of the ogres shifted uneasily, his large frame making him a conspicuous figure despite his best efforts to remain still. The giant continued to move, its massive form disappearing into the mist once more. The horde collectively exhaled, their relief short-lived as Volk''s hand shot up again. "Don''t relax," he growled, his voice low but firm. "It''s not over." The words barely left his mouth before the tremors began again. Thud. Thud. Thud. The horde''s eyes widened in disbelief. The giant was returning once more. "Why is it coming back?" a goblin whispered, his voice trembling. "Quiet!" Volk snapped, his glare silencing the goblin instantly. The giant emerged from the mist again, its glowing eyes sweeping over them as it lumbered closer. The horde pressed themselves against the ground, their hearts pounding in their chests. Volk''s mind raced. Why was it circling them? Was it aware of their presence, or was this some instinctual behavior? His sharp eyes studied the creature''s movements, searching for any clue that might explain its actions. The giant paused, its massive head turning slowly as it sniffed the air. The sound was deep and guttural, like the rumble of an earthquake. The horde held their breath, their muscles tensed as they awaited its next move. Volk''s hand remained steady, signaling them to stay still. He could feel their fear, their desperation to act, to do something¡ªanything¡ªbut he knew that any movement could spell their doom. The giant''s gaze lingered on them again, its glowing eyes narrowing. For a terrifying moment, it seemed as though it might finally attack. Its massive shoulders shifted, and it took a step toward them. Thud. The ground shook violently, the vibrations rattling their bones. A goblin let out a stifled gasp, quickly clamping a hand over his mouth as Volk shot him a warning glare. The giant paused again, its head tilting as though reconsidering. Then, without warning, it turned and began to lumber away, its massive form fading into the mist once more. Volk exhaled slowly, his sharp eyes never leaving the spot where it had disappeared. "Don''t. Move," he commanded, his voice a low growl. The horde remained frozen, their breaths shallow as they waited. The silence stretched on, the tension unbearable. Minutes passed, though it felt like hours, before Volk finally lowered his hand. "Move, quietly," he ordered. "We''re not safe yet." The horde began to creep forward, their movements cautious and deliberate. The fear in their eyes was evident, but they trusted Volk''s leadership. As they moved, the tremors began again. Discover more content at My Virtual Library Empire Thud. Thud. Thud. The giant was circling back. Volk gritted his teeth, his sharp mind calculating their next move. They couldn''t keep waiting for it to pass¡ªthey needed to find cover or risk being noticed. "Quiet down!" he hissed, his voice sharp and commanding. "Not a word. Not a sound." The horde obeyed, their fear keeping them silent. The giant loomed closer, its massive form once again emerging from the mist. Volk clenched his fists, his sharp eyes fixed on the creature as it lumbered past. This time, it didn''t pause. It didn''t sniff the air or turn its glowing gaze toward them. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It simply passed. As the tremors faded into the distance, Volk allowed himself a brief moment of relief. "Keep moving," he ordered, his voice low but firm. "And stay alert. Anything can happen now." Chapter 1 - 1: Strange World A person lay unconscious on the damp forest floor. And a faint occasional rustle of leaves above was the only sound that broke through the still silence. Suddenly, a voice pierced through the silent stillness. "Are you dead? Hmmm¡­ He''s still breathing¡­ Brother? I know you can wake up now¡­" The voice was insistent, with its growing louder with each call. Slowly, the person''s eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was the canopy of ancient trees above, with their leaves filtering the sunlight into dappled patterns on the ground. Immediately, he shifted his gaze, and his heart skipped a beat. Three towering figures stood over him. They were orc-like creatures with green, leathery skin and sharp ears that tapered into points. And their large fangs protruded from their lower jaws, giving them more fearsome appearance. One of them, the tallest and broadest of the trio, noticed Volk''s awakening. "Lok''tar Ogar!" he shouted, with his loud voice echoing through the trees. The person even felt a massive vibration spread through his entire being. Immediately, the other two orcs joined in the chant. "Lok''tar Ogar! Lok''tar Ogar!" The first orc, evidently acting their leader, stepped closer and bent down. "He''s fine, we can leave him here," he announced. "Let''s go further and hunt more earth moles to win the witch''s favor and get ourselves a wife!" "Lok''tar Ogar! Let''s go get ourselves a wife!" one of the orcs echoed, he was even pumping his fist in the air. "Lok''tar Ogar! Let''s hunt these Earth moles to get our maidens!!" the other joined in. The leader nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, the Poisonous Earth Moles were just released. There should be enough time for us to get more earth moles and find ourselves better wives. Those Poisonous Earth Moles shouldn''t have reached this area yet, because if they had, the brother over there should have been torn to pieces already." With that, the three orcs turned and trotted off into the forest, with their voices fading into the distance. However, the person still lay there for a moment, with his mind racing. What had just happened? His last clear memory was being in the street, using his wheelchair. Then, he was seized and taken to a strange place. People in familiar long gown like doctor uniforms had surrounded him, as if holding syringes and other torture tools. Immediately, the memory of the excruciating pain as something was injected into his body made him groan. "Urrghhh!!" Volk recalled one of them saying, "Too much radiation input, the experiment subject wouldn''t make it, we need more¡­" That was the last thing he remembered. Now, he''s here. Not long, his head throbbed with pain, but he forced himself to move. He attempted to stand, but his legs buckled beneath him. Volk fell, thud! Fortunately, his arm caught him just before his face slammed into the grassy ground. As he steadied himself, he noticed a small pool of water nearby. Crawling towards it, he peered into its clear surface. Staring back at him was a reflection that was both familiar and alien. His face was now similar to the three he had just seen. Long, pointed ears jutted out from his head, and his skin was a deep, mottled green. His eyes, though, were still his own, filled with the same determination and fire. "What is this?" he muttered, trying to comprehend his transformation. Suddenly, memories that were not his own flooded Volk''s mind. He saw a world ruled by Red Elves, Warlocks, and Dark Elves, Witches, locked in an endless war. He understood that he was now a young Hornless Orc, subservient to the Elven Rejects or Elven Witches, who were hated by other Elven races, because they were believed to be incapable of siring offspring with other Elven races, which was seen as a curse and a bad omen for the entire Elven kind. However, both rulers of war had an interest in the Elven Witches and the horde of Hornless Orcs. The Dark Witches wanted Elven Witches as material to extend their lives and the horde of Hornless Orcs as their physical slaves, while the Red Elven Warlocks desired the Elven Witches for their mana control and the horde of Hornless Orcs for their transformation abilities. Due to desperation to escape from the clutches of both realm rulers, the group of hornless orcs that came from nowhere who have no home, and a rejected elven race that cannot repopulate and discriminated by their own people, decided to come together to survive and discovered they could repopulate each other. If a male was born, they would turn into a hornless orc, and if a female was born, they would turn into a forest elf. Not just that, the horde of the hornless orcs who were not sensitive to Mana would become sensitive to Mana once they form a bond to these Elven Witches, and they could get strengthened too because of them. As long as they help the Elven Witches to improve their ranks as Mana manipulators, they would get stronger too. Volk clenched his fists. "No! No! No! No! I don''t want to be reincarnated! I don''t want to be reincarnated! I don''t want to be reincarnated!" But then, after being convinced for a very long time that he had been reincarnated here, he managed to clear his head. "Do I really hate being reincarnated?" he mumbled. The person looked at his hands - they were normal, not overly muscular, and no longer resembling a stick. Although they appeared green, it was fine. His feet were okay, and he could walk using them, unlike when he was on Earth. "Hahahaha! I am reincarnated!?" He laughed out loud, an energy of madness came to him knowing the fact that he had reincarnated, where other reincarnators in the novels he read were worried, but he isn''t! S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. On Earth, he was often assisted, and although he was grateful, he was tired of it all and would often leave or hide sometimes just so he could be alone! Now that he''s dead, at least he won''t be a burden! He hoped that they had moved on, but now, what''s important is that he''s here! He''s not a disabled person anymore! Then, Volk remembered something important from the tribe ritual ceremony of the tribe of Orcs memory - that as if he was overcome with emotion and despair, it would be too late! He would experience something that he experienced in his past life. "So right now, I need to hunt as many earth moles as I can. Success in these hunts would earn me a Forest Elf wife, who could help me rise in rank as a warrior. And depending on how many hunts I make, would make me a more talented partner that could help me rank up as a warrior faster than others! "I am sure, since I have read some novels, that I know I am an Orc. Since I am an Orc, this should be a magical world. A magical world means there are spells, and regarding those spells, I am sure I can definitely find something here that can make me stronger!!" Soon, his head finally clear, Volk pushed himself to his feet. The dizziness had subsided, and a fierce resolve had taken its place. He needed to find his way in this situation before he could think of what he should do in this world. Just as he began to orient himself, a sudden noise caught his attention. He froze, and then he turned his head. "Huh?" Volk barely had time to react before he saw the trio of orcs he had encountered earlier, they were now sprinting back toward his direction in a frenzy state. And their faces were contorted with fear, and he could hear their voices rang out in a cacophony of panic. "You idiot! We should have let the orc warriors handle these poisonous earth moles!" one of them shouted, Volk could see his eyes were wide in terror. "We''re fools! Now we''re running for our lives!" another yelled back, his eyes seemed to lose their hope and his breath was ragged. "We''re lucky to be alive! Why did we think we could handle this and come back here!?" the third added. As they approached Volk, the leader thrust a crude knife into his hand. The knife had a bone handle wrapped in animal hide, like its blade rough-hewn and stained with use. "Here, protect yourself," he panted. "They are coming!" Volk took the knife, his grip immediately tightened around the handle. He looked around at the forest, trying to get his bearings. The trees were ancient, and he could see their thick trunks covered in moss. Sunlight barely pierced the dense canopy above, as if casting eerie shadows on the forest floor but he still couldn''t see the danger they were looking out for. "Prepare to engage in combat!" the leader barked, trying to steady his voice despite the fear in his eyes. "And avoid their bite¡ªthey are venomous! Lok''tar Ogar! Fight or die!" In that split second after the warning, Volk felt the ground rumble beneath his feet. Rumble! Rumble! Rumble! He glanced at the forest floor, with his heart unconsciously pounding from the fear of the unknown. Suddenly, ten spots around them erupted, and massive black mole creatures burst from the earth. These creatures were hideous to look at as their bodies were covered in coarse black fur. Their eyes were small and beady, glowing with a malevolent red light. However, the most terrifying thing about them is that they had enormous claws, perfect for burrowing, and their jaws were lined with sharp purple color, like they are an obvious sign of their venomous nature. Volk steeled himself, his mind was trying to think of actions he must do. He readied his weapon, prepared to fight for his life. But as soon as the creatures landed on them, the creatures moved with frightening speed. One of the moles lunged at Volk, with its claws locking around him with a vice-like grip. And he felt a sharp pain as the creature bit into his neck, like its venom already searing through his veins like fire. His mind tried to fight back, but his body refused to move. The venom paralyzed his body completely, leaving him helpless. Soon, a thought entered his head, ''Is this it? Am I going to die here? If there''s gonna be a savior in this situation. If there''s no one, what will happen? Clearly, this is venom. Maybe the orcs have some kind of resistance to it, right?'' He tried to glance at the other orcs. But they were in the same state as him, with their eyes slowly losing the spark of life. Panic began to spread through Volk''s entire body as he realized there''s no such thing as orc resistance to venom. "No! No! No! I cannot die here! Just when I got a new body, I cannot die here!" he screamed, with a sound filled with frustration, and fear. He screamed and screamed and screamed but his screams seemed to even draw more attention from the other earth moles. In a split second, they all lunged at him alone and ignored the other three, until their furry bodies covered him completely. Inside, as soon as his vision slowly darkened, Volk felt their hot breath against his skin, their weight pressing down on him. His eyelids started to feel heavy, but then something extraordinary happened. His brown eyes began to glow green. Outside, the mountain of mole exploded. And the venomous earth moles were blasted away from each other, with their forms hurtling in all directions. The three orcs were not spared and were also thrown back, landing hard in different directions of the forest floor. In the center of the explosion, a massive and wide titan emerged, transformed. It was a bit similar to the orcs earlier but this body had grown to an immense size, his muscles bulging. His stomach and every limb were now four times the size of a normal Hornless Orc. His skin seemed like a vibrant green, and his eyes glowed with an intense, otherworldly light. His face, though still recognizable and somewhat familiar, was more terrifying and filled with muscles. The titan looked around in anger with a growl, ''Grrrrrr'', like his voice in this new form was radiating some kind of destructive power. Immediately, without a warning, he let out a thunderous roar, "ROOOARRRR!!!" Chapter 2 - 2: Radioactive System Awakening The titan was Volk. He couldn''t believe the thunderous roar that had just erupted from his own mouth was his own and came from him. The sheer power of its shockwave alone left him stunned. At the same time, he felt an incredible surge of energy, but there was also an overwhelming fury boiling inside him. It was as if Volk''s anger was like a wildfire, consuming him entirely. He felt an irrational, overwhelming rage towards everything around him, like even the sound of the insects around him makes him irritated. He could feel his breath come in short, furious bursts, along with his chest heaving. Volk could see the earth moles, those venomous creatures, were scurrying back to their hiding spots, and he calmed down a little. "Huh?" For some reason, his view of them changed; they looked like rats, but earlier he was sure they the size of cows. It was baffling. "Why do I feel different?" Volk muttered to himself. Suddenly, a system screen appeared before his eyes, displaying a message: | Ding! | You have awakened the Invincible and Strongest Radioactive System! | A life-saving system that activates at the brink of death or when the host is in full-fledged rage! | Volk''s head immediately went numb. He finally understood what was happening. A radioactive system? What did that even mean? His began to recall something that was in his past life, recalling a green, massive creature from superhero movies that transformed when it got angry. "Am I like that?" Volk asked himself, feeling incredibly bewildered. Cutting off his stupor, another message appeared on the system screen: | Ding! | Invincible Radioactive Mode! | Status: On. | Duration: One minute and fifty-four seconds! | Volk paused, staring at the time limit. "What?! How come it''s limited!?!" But then he shrugged off the worry. "Doesn''t matter. I am invincible in this state." He laughed internally but externally, his body moved with raw, monstrous power, as if his movements caused the air around his muscles to be sucked to his muscular aura. Unconsciously, he roared again, sending shockwaves that echoed through the whole forest. "ROOAAARRRR!!!" As he roared, something landed on him with a hiss. "Psssh!" His massive body felt a little scratchy but annoying sensation where it had landed. He looked down at his chest, then turned to see where it came from. Each movement, each action, seems to make the wind explode in an unseen destruction. "Grraargh," he growled, scanning his surroundings. Suddenly, he spotted the venomous earth moles. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "YOU LITTLE SPOUTIES MAKING VOLK ANGRY!" he bellowed, as if the words were spilling out unconsciously. But at the same time, in his head, he meant every word, and along with his anger boiling over. He didn''t know why he talked like that, it felt so good and natural, like he didn''t care about anything but his rage! Again, he was hit by more of the mole rats'' spits, ''Pak!'', ''Pak!'' ,''Pak!'' each impact making him flinch and growl. "Grrr... rrrgghh!" Making his rage intensified with every hit. He felt small hot venom burning into his skin, that led to fueling his fury even more. "Graaagh! Arrrghh!" He glared at the earth moles peeking from their underground hideouts, the ones likely spitting on him. "VOLK WILL KILL ALL YOU LITTLE SPOUTIES!!" he roared, with his voice a thunder clapping of pure rage. Volk charged at the creatures, but they were too quick, diving back into their holes before he could catch them. His frustration mounted as he repeatedly slammed into the ground, making his massive form cause the earth to tremble. He began to think of digging them up, but he had better ideas. "Grrraaa... rrrggghhh!" he growled each time he missed. "VOOOOLLLlKK!!!" Volk raised his massive arms, ignoring the spits that made him flinch with each hit. And immediately, he brought his fists down with a force that shook the ground. "SMAAAAAAAAAASSSHHHHHH!!!!!!!" he roared. His fists slammed into the ground, creating a dent and sending cracks spreading through the forest floor. The earth trembled under the sheer force of his blow along with the wind explosion and a shockwave that instantly spread to the ground and the forest, and then it became silent again. Not long, one by one, the venomous earth moles began to surface, but with their bodies convulsing before they fell still. "Kaaahh!!" Is the sound they would make once the life out of their bodies slowly disappears. Volk stood there, breathing heavily, his body trembling with residual anger and adrenaline. The ground around him was a mess of cracks and upheaved soil. The forest was silent, save for the sound of his heavy breathing. Suddenly, another system screen would appear. | Ding! | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster and bigger. | Time Deduction: Thirty-seconds. | Current time duration: One minute and two seconds. | Volk was taken aback, the angrier he got, the stronger he became. But the duration of that form would get shorter. What if he got even angrier to the point he strengthened himself a lot? Isn''t that the same thing as being a radioactive titan for a few seconds? He looked around, taking in the sight of the dead earth moles. He still felt incredulous. His rage had given him the strength to destroy them. As the dust settled, Volk knew that his journey in this new world was just beginning. He had awakened something powerful within him, and he would need to learn to control it. But for now, he relished in the power and the victory. The earth moles were defeated, and he was still standing. That was enough for now. As long as he collects their bodies, he will have a wife on the orc tribe now. But then, as he was basking in his thoughts. Pak! A wet sticky object landed on Volk''s forehead, making him stumble a little and feel a sting of pain that came from it. It didn''t hurt him for real, but it annoyed him and made feel he wanted to crush someone whoever did it to him. He looked around angrily, growling, and saw a skinless, venomous earth mole. It was partially underground, staring at him in the shadows. It hadn''t died! Volk''s growl grew louder, his anger rising. "Grrrrr!! DON''T MAKE VOLK ANGRY, skinless SPOUTY!!!" But before he could move, pak! The skinless venomous earth mole spit on his face again. With a groan, Volk wiped the stinging spit off his face, feeling the burn. Immediately his expression turned even more sour. "ROOOAAARRR!!" Volk roared, with his quaking voice that shook the trees. The creature, sensing his aggression, hid further underground. This made Volk even madder. With an aggressive jump, his hulking body dove to its hiding spot and began digging furiously. Crack! Crack! The ground splintered open under Volk''s powerful hands. He dug so fast that the forest floor rumbled, creating small hills full of cracks. Each movement made the ground quake and groan. The skinless venomous earth mole shrieked in panic below, frantically running through the tunnels. Volk''s anger grew with each escape attempt the mole made. "Grrrrr... rrrrggghh!" he growled, feeling the creature slipping away from him. He dug deeper and faster, his powerful hands tearing through the earth. The forest floor continued to crack and rumble, the disturbance growing larger and longer. "Roooarrr... grrragh!" he bellowed, the sound echoing through the tunnels. He could hear the mole''s shrieks getting louder, indicating he was getting closer. The creature faced tunnel after tunnel, each time shrieking in panic. "Graaargh!" Volk''s growl echoed through the ground as he finally caught up to the skinless venomous earth mole. With a powerful lunge, he grabbed its neck and squeezed it. He didn''t even feel a resistance and the mole''s body went limp instantly. Volk''s breathing was heavy with heat, as his body was still trembling with rage. He felt nothing else besides the lifeless body of the mole in his grip. "Grrrrr," he growled, unsatisfied with the chase''s end. Not wasting his time on this dump underground, he emerged from the ground with a massive jump, breaking through the earth with a boom! Boom! Volk landed on a massive stone hill, the impact sending rocks and debris flying. He stood tall, his chest heaving, and roared once more, "ROOOAAAAARRRRRRR!!!!" The sound reverberated through the forest, a declaration of his power and rage. "VOLLLKKK IS STROOOOOOOOOONNNNGGGG!!!" He couldn''t believe it, in this life, he didn''t just have a normal body, it was incredibly strong too! Not far from there, a shadowy figure of an orc with a weapon looked up at the sky in the direction of the roar. The sound was unmistakable, a sign that something immense and powerful was nearby. The orc squinted, gripping its weapon tightly, and started moving towards the source of the roar, ready to face whatever had caused such a mighty sound. Chapter 3 - 3: Stolen Battle Spoil Luk''Tar was in a bad mood. The creatures released this time were Earth Moles, notorious for being elusive to strong warriors like him. These moles only hunted creatures weaker than themselves, making them difficult to catch. He clenched his fists in frustration. "I need to find and capture a lot, or at least get the skinless venomous earth mole to surely win this competition," he muttered. In this competition, Luk''Tar wasn''t just competing with his strength. That was his first problem. The challenge was designed to test not just strength but also their strategic thinking. So, the Earth Moles gave even the weaker warriors a chance to outshine him. "The challenge was not to be the strongest one, but to be the wisest leader. As the moles are the ones being sent, it means we have to show them who among us has the greatest strategic thinking to take that position," Luk''Tar mumbled to himself. Suddenly, he heard a roar. "ROOOAAARRR!!" The roar echoed through the forest, and it was unlike any he had heard before. It was deeper, more resonant than the typical orc roars. Luk''Tar gripped his weapon tightly and moved towards the source of the sound. When he reached his destination, Luk''Tar saw a massive, muscular green figure afar with no weapon. "Hmm¡­ a Labor Orc that awakened Grum-gar?" he mumbled, then he smiled in amusement. "Interesting." Labor Orcs in their tribe were typically builders. They didn''t possess Mana and were relegated to construction and manual labor. Only by awakening their Grum-gar form could they become Warrior Orcs. This transformation made them five times stronger, three times larger, and granted them natural healing capabilities. "It seems another warrior was born from Labor Orc ranks," Luk''Tar mumbled. Though rare, it wasn''t impossible for Labor Orcs to awaken their Grum-gar form in life-and-death situations. He had seen it happen three or four times before in each awakening. Suddenly, Luk''Tar noticed something on the Labor Grum-gar''s body. "Skinless venomous earth mole?!" he exclaimed, he couldn''t help but had his eyes widening in shock. He took a step back to this incredulous scene, and his face was beyond contorted in disbelief. "How did he get that?" The skinless venomous earth moles were prized in this event. Their elusive nature made them incredibly difficult to capture. Although they are weak, they could dig tunnels quickly, their venom was potent enough to kill any warriors among them in this blood rite event, and their skinless bodies made them even more slippery and hard to grasp making it even more harder to capture them. These creatures were the ultimate test for the warriors, an ultimate symbol of their skill and cunningness when captured by them. Seeing the Labor Grum-gar slowly transforming back to his normal Hornless Orc form, Luk''Tar thought about what he should do. It would be disrespectful as a warrior to take the mole from him. Although not forbidden, it was a shameful action that would tarnish his honor. But then, Luk''Tar remembered Solluha''r. Solluha''r was his childhood friend. They had grown up together, sharing dreams and promises. They had sworn to marry each other. Solluha''r was beautiful and fierce, and Luk''Tar loved her deeply. But she had been chosen to become one of the wives'' trophies in this competition because of her talent. That''s why he joined even though he wasn''t confident he could win her over others as some families were more powerful and cunning than him. However, he couldn''t help but recall their moments together vividly. They had played in the fields, trained side by side, and shared secrets. Solluha''r had a smile that could light up the darkest days and a laugh that was music to his ears. Her determination and strength matched his, and together, they were invincible. Luk''Tar''s heart ached at the thought of losing her to another. He clenched his fists, with his mind trying to think of what he should do. If he took the skinless venomous earth mole from this newly transformed Labor Orc, he would surely have her in his arms. The thought was tempting, the prospect of finally being with Solluha''r overwhelming. But was it worth sacrificing his honor? He struggled with the decision. His warrior''s pride battled with his love for Solluha''r. The shame of taking the mole from someone who had earned it would haunt him, but the thought of Solluha''r marrying someone else was unbearable. Soon enough, his thoughts began to churned like an acid that it hurt his chest, making his heart pound heavier than usual. The internal conflict he was feeling was fierce. He remembered Solluha''r''s eyes, the way they sparkled with determination and warmth. He remembered their promise, their dreams of a future together. Suddenly, his body moved almost on its own, as if driven by the desperation to fulfill his promise to Solluha''r. He stepped towards the direction of the Hornless Orc, with the skinless venomous earth mole still clutched in the orc''s hand. "Forgive me," he whispered with barely audible sound. The heaviness of what he was about to do was pressing down on his shoulders, but the thought of losing Solluha''r somehow gave him the strength to move forward to go get what he wants. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡­ On the other hand, Volk was oblivious to the fact that someone was watching him. Once he finished roaring with all his might, he saw a system screen appear before him: | Ding! | Duration: Zero. | The host will now turn back to being normal, or if the host wishes, the host could stay a rampaging mindless beast. | Volk swallowed hard. He immediately wished to return to his normal state. Slowly, his body began to transform from the muscular titan to his lean, normal lean muscled Orc form. Before this, his massive arms shrank, the bulging muscles receding. His chest, broad and powerful, slimmed down, each rib and sinew realigning. His legs, tree-trunk thick, diminished, becoming the sturdy limbs of his normal self. Finally, his feet, which had been like those of a giant, returned to their usual size. Once back to normal, Volk felt his whole body drenched in sweat and was still trembling slightly from exertion. He took a good look to the skinless creature in his hand. "With this, I would be crowned as a champion and get the best and most talented elf, and then I will be able to gain magic faster!" After that he laughed heartily, "Hahahah! I can finally become strong!" Suddenly, he sensed something and turned just in time to see a crude shield approaching him. The shield was battered and rough, made from scraps of metal and wood. Clang! The shield slammed into his head, sending him hurling in a not so far away distance. Immediately, he crashed into a nearby tree with a thud. With difficulty, Volk looked back in the direction the shield had come from. He saw a hornless Orc similar to himself and the three from earlier, but this one was heavily armored. The armor was pieced together from various sources, creating a patchwork of steel plates and leather straps. Volk could see the Orc''s eyes were cold and calculating. The armored Orc spoke, his voice deep and commanding. "My name is Luk''Tar Durghan, son of Lak''Ran Durghan. Tomorrow, you can challenge me and take this creature back, but I suggest you don''t, because you won''t be my match. You are not the only one who awakened the Grum-gar form, because I, too, have awakened it and I am far better than you, Labor Orc!" Volk struggled to rise, his vision felt along with his head swimming. Luk''Tar turned around and ignored him, dragging the skinless venomous earth mole that Volk had hunted. The creature''s lifeless body scraped against the ground, leaving only a trail in the dirt. Soon, Volk''s head throbbed. He watched Luk''Tar disappear into the forest, dragging away his prize. The pain in his head intensified, and his vision began to blur. The edges of his sight darkened, creeping inwards until all he saw was black. His body also gave in to exhaustion, and he slumped against the tree, unconscious. The forest around him was silent, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. The sky above darkened as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the land. Volk lay still, with his breathing shallow and labored. As the night deepened, the forest came alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. Owls hooted, their calls echoing through the trees. Crickets chirped in a steady rhythm, a symphony of nature. Volk''s mind was a haze of pain and confusion, but even in his unconscious state, he felt the deep sting of loss and humiliation. Hours passed, and the forest slowly quieted. Slowly, the moon rose high, casting a pale light over Volk''s still form. Gradually, his breathing steadied, and his body began to heal. The natural resilience of the Orcs worked to mend his injuries, though the mental and emotional wounds would take longer to heal. In his dreams, Volk saw flashes of his past life, the experiments that had brought him here, and the faces of the doctors who had tortured him. He relieved the pain and fear, his body writhing as the memories played out. But through the nightmare, a new determination began to form. When dawn finally broke, the first rays of sunlight touched Volk''s face, stirring him from his restless sleep. He groaned. Slowly, he opened his eyes, the world coming back into focus. Immediately, he stood up and opened his eyes, and with a maniacal rage, he screamed at the top of lungs! "You son of a biiiiiiiiiiiittttttcchhhhhhh!!!!" Chapter 4 - 4: Running out of time In the forest, Volk ran with all his might, with both of his feet pounding against the earth in a steady, relentless, loud and heavy rhythm. The trees around him were tall and ancient, and each of their thick trunks covered in moss and creeping vines. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, they were casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Volk ignored the air that was filled with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves, creating a symphony of nature that seemed at odds with Volk''s frantic pace. His face was set in a mask of anger. After being knocked unconscious by the armored Orc, Luk''Tar, Volk had been forced to stay the entire night in the forest. Now it was morning, and he was late for the awarding ceremony, the GharKhalmon. Being late wasn''t just an inconvenience; it was a potential disaster. If he missed the ceremony, he would remain a Labor Hornless Orc forever. The significance of this event depends on Volk''s feet. The GharKhalmon was not just a ceremony; it was a crucial opportunity for the Hornless Orcs to prove themselves and gain the chance to strengthen their tribe. Without this opportunity, Volk would be condemned to a life of labor and servitude. He would be unable to rank up or gain the power necessary to protect himself in this dangerous magical world. Most of all, he would feel the same as he was when he was on Earth! Limited! The trees seemed to blur as he sped past them, his mind racing as fast as his feet. The stakes were so high that he needed to reach the place. In this world ruled by powerful Elven Warlocks and Dark Witches, the Hornless Orcs were vulnerable. They had found a precarious foothold thanks to a symbiotic relationship with the Elven Witches, but without the chance to prove himself, Volk would be stuck at the bottom of this fragile hierarchy. "Thump! Thump! Thump!" The sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of forest creatures. His muscles burned with the effort, but he pushed on, driven by a mix of desperation and rage. The history of the Hornless Orcs flashed through his mind. They had come from an unknown realm, lost and helpless in this magical world. Their salvation had come through a desperate witch who had partnered with one of them. This partnership had allowed the Orcs to find a new home and a means to strengthen themselves. By bonding with the Elven, the Orcs could gain power and provide resources in return. It was a symbiotic relationship that had allowed them to survive. Remembering that without an Elven Witch partner, he would be relegated to the role of a laborer, a builder, and a slave, just to survive. The thought of such a fate filled him with a burning rage. "I will not be a laborer!" he growled to himself, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. "YOU DAMN ORRCCC!!" he shouted into the forest. Suddenly, a system screen appeared before him, startling him. | Ding! | Would you like to enter your Radioactive Form? | Note: | Radioactive Form would automatically revolve every twenty-four hours. | After using this form, the host would be vulnerable for the time being and could perish. | Volk''s anger flared anew at the sight of the message. He was still furious, but he stared at the screen for a long moment, weighing his options. The radioactive form had saved him before, but it came with significant risks too. As he continued running, he shook his head. "Not now," he muttered. "I''ll save it for later!" His eyes gleamed with determination. His feet pounded against the forest floor, "thud, thud, thud," as he picked up speed. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The forest seemed to blur around him, the trees and undergrowth rushing past in a haze of green and brown. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he pushed himself harder, with his legs pumping with violent vigor. "Swish, swish, swish," his clothes rustled with each powerful stride. The wind whipped against his face, cool and refreshing despite his heated anger. The morning sun cast long shadows, but Volk''s focus was unwavering. He had a goal, and nothing would stop him from reaching it. With each step, the sound of the forest grew louder, the "crunch" of leaves and twigs underfoot, the "chirp" of insects, and the "caw" of distant birds. But Volk''s mind was singularly focused. He would reach the GharKhalmon in time. He would prove himself. He would not be a laborer. His pace increased, each stride longer and faster than the last. The forest seemed to part before him, opening a path as if acknowledging his determination. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, pouring every ounce of strength into his run. The forest flew by, a blur of green and brown, the sounds of nature mixing with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Volk''s anger fueled him, driving him forward. "Thud, thud, thud," his feet hit the ground with relentless force. He would not be late. He would not fail. He would reach the GharKhalmon and take his place among the warrior Orcs. With a final burst of speed, Volk surged ahead, the forest a mere backdrop to his determined stride. ¡­ On the other side of the forest, the Tribe''s settlement stood tall and imposing. The heart of the Tribe was marked by several incredibly tall towers, their brick exteriors covered in intricate carvings that seemed to pulse with natural magic. The towers, resembling ancient trees, spiraled upwards, their tops adorned with enchanted fires that burned with a mystical intensity, casting a warm, otherworldly glow over the settlement. The towers looked like they were not just structures but living embodiments of the Elven Witches'' desire for connection to their Forest Elven origins that abandoned them. Below these majestic towers, groups of lean-muscled Hornless Orcs moved with purpose, accompanied by their Elven companions. The Elven races varied greatly, each displaying their unique heritage. Some had silver hair that shimmered like moonlight, others boasted deep auburn locks, while a few had golden tresses that seemed to capture the essence of the sun. Their eyes ranged from piercing blue to deep green and even a rare violet, each pair telling tales of ancient wisdom and magic. Their garments were as varied as their appearances, with some clad in flowing robes adorned with intricate patterns, while others wore armor that seemed both delicate and incredibly strong. Scattered around the base of the towers were numerous tents, each one a testament to the merging of Orc and Elves cultures. The tents were made of sturdy leather, reinforced with enchanted fabrics that provided protection and comfort. Some were simple and utilitarian, while others were adorned with colorful banners and charms that swayed gently in the breeze. In the center of the settlement, a massive bonfire crackled, with its flames dancing with a mystical life of their own, like it was casting flickering shadows across the ground and adding to the air of enchantment that permeated the area. Inside one of the larger tents, four figures sat in a tense silence. Luk''Tar Dhurgan, the Orc who had stolen Volk''s skinless venomous earth mole, wore a worried expression. His brow furrowed as he stared at the ground, seemingly lost in thought. He couldn''t shake the feeling of unease that came out of nowhere. The memory of his ambush keeps replaying in his mind, the look of the labor Orc he had challenged haunting him. Luk''Tar had believed it would be an easy victory; after all, the labor Orcs weren''t trained to fight. They were builders, not warriors. But something about that encounter felt off, something he couldn''t quite place. Suddenly, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, pulling him away from his reverie. He looked up to see a beautiful elf with striking green eyes and long green hair. Her small, pointy nose and delicate lips gave her an appearance of sharp elegance. "What''s wrong?" she asked, with her voice filled with much concern. Luk''Tar reached up to hold her hand, drawing some comfort from her presence. "Solluha''r," he began, but her gaze made him pause. He forced a smile and said, "I am fine." He touched her lips gently with his large finger and murmured, "Not yet, we are not one yet." Solluha''r''s breath was warm against his skin as she leaned in closer. "Don''t worry about everything so much," she whispered. "If it''s your strength, don''t feel inferior. Even if you''re not the strongest, you managed to get the sole skinless venomous earth mole. That''s no small feat. It means you have a mind for strategy, perfect for leadership. In the future, the tribe might rest in your decisions. Combat isn''t everything." Luk''Tar''s face briefly reflected his guilt before he masked it again. He knew Solluha''r''s words were meant to reassure him, but his actions of ambush were like a blade piercing through his conscience. Just then, the flap of the tent was pulled back, and a fierce looking Orc entered hurriedly. "Luk''Tar, you, and the chosen wives-" the orc would paused, "I mean wife... Should prepare. It''s almost time," he announced. Luk''Tar nodded, releasing Solluha''r''s hand. He stood up, straightening his posture and pushing his worries aside. "Thank you," he said to the Orc, his voice firm. He turned to Solluha''r, his eyes softening. "We''ll talk more later." Solluha''r nodded, giving him an encouraging smile. "We''ll get through this together, Luk''Tar, you can do it!" she said softly. As Luk''Tar stepped out of the tent, he saw the scene outside was bustling with activity. He is ready! Ready to receive Solluha''r completely! Ready to face his future! A future that he forcefully took from his fellow tribe member. Chapter 5 - 5: KORNUUM DRHAKAR!! Luk''Tar stood amidst the grandeur of the ceremony, with the towering brick structures of the Tribe casting long shadows in the morning light. The enchanted fires atop the towers flickered in his eyes, as if their glow were intensifying the magic that was blended with the wind. He could feel an eagerness amongst everyone, like a hum of energy that was flowing through all around the gathered Orcs and Elves. Suddenly, a woman''s voice rang out over the crowd and Lu''Tark''s ear, as if it were echoing through the towering structures. "Wrrraaak! Today, we honor the warriors who have returned victorious!" Her voice sounded very powerful, almost as though it were reverberating with the highest authority. "First, we have Uru''kar," she paused, waiting for the tension to build, and she felt it was enough, "who has slain six venomous earth moles!" The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers, resembling the sound echoing through the forest like a thunderclap. "Raaaargh!" they roared, their voices mingling in a powerful symphony of approval. "Next," the woman continued, her tone now building obvious suspense, "we have Bra''gorn," she paused again, "who has slain eight venomous earth moles!" The crowd''s response was even louder, a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very ground they were standing on. "Rooaaarrr!" Lu''Tark felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw a fellow Orc, with a plastered wide grin on his face. "How many partners do you wish to take?" he asked with his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. Lu''Tark glanced over to the tent where Solluha''r stood. Her green eyes met his, and they were now looking at each other, soon enough, her lips parted and formed a cheerful smile. "I only need one," he replied, his voice was incredibly firm when he said this. "And that is Solluha''r." Solluha''r stepped out of the tent, her presence couldn''t help but radiate an obvious grace and strength. She walked over to Lu''Tark, with her smile widening on her face as she took his hand. The hornless Orc who had spoken to him nodded, "Alright, follow me," and he led them toward the center of the ceremony. Suddenly, the announcer''s voice boomed again, capturing everyone''s attention including Lu''Tark and Solluha''r. "Wrrrrraaak! Now, we come to the most extraordinary achievement. The slayer of the skinless venomous earth mole!" The crowd''s tone shifted, one could hear an undercurrent of excitement and awe threading through their voices as they cheered. "Champion!" "Champion!" "Champion!" "Champion!" "Champion!" "Champion!" "To kill a skinless, venomous earth mole," the announcer continued slowly, as if savoring each word, "is a feat of unimaginable skill and bravery. These creatures are far more elusive and deadly than their venomous counterparts, and their skinless bodies make them tougher and more resistant to attacks, making them harder to catch. To face one, corner it, and emerge victorious is to be among the greatest of our warriors!" As the announcer finished, the crowd''s anticipation reached a fever pitch, their voices rising in a wave of thrumming sound. "Roooooaaaaaaarrr!" they chanted. Lu''Tark, watching and hearing all this beside Solluha''r, couldn''t help but feel an incredible amount of gratitude. However, guilt slowly built up in his head, and to avoid this, he shook his head and forced himself to step forward, immediately silencing the crowd. The announcer''s voice rang out again, "Luk''Tar Durghan! Our champion of this year! The earth mole king catcher!" His name seemed to reverberate through the assembly of the crowd. "And he has chosen only one companion, the ever beautiful Solluha''r!" When all was declared, the tribe erupted in cheers once more, and the sound of their cheer was so powerful, almost reaching the sky as a testament to their approval. "Raaaargh! Raaaargh!" Luk''Tark smiled and waved his hands. The cheers that were supposed to make him feel even more proud of whatever he had done was making even more guilty, but he swallowed his saliva and his pride. The announcer''s voice continued, "Despite having the right to choose two more wives, he has chosen only one! What a faithful warrior! What a faithful future leader! And now, to let this ceremony be completed, let the two become one!" Luk''Tark and Solluha''r faced each other, with their movements slow and deliberate, as if they wanted to enjoy every moment. Both of them eventually reached out, with their hands gently cupping each other''s faces. Their eyes were locked, as if there was a silent communication passing between them as one already. And as they held each other, a phenomenon began to unfold. Leaves began to rustle around them. It was as though the air was caught in a mystical wind that circled their bodies. Flames danced in the air, making both their bodies feel warmth from each other''s presence alone, wrapping around the two of them as one. The ground beneath them seemed to hum with friendly energy, resonating with the magical moment. Their chests began to glow, with a soft light emanating from within. Lu''Tark and Solluha''r nodded at each other, their eyes meeting. Finally, they were going to become one - the moment they had been waiting for ever since they were children. "I never thought this moment would come," Solluha''r softly said, making Lu''Tark guilty, but he only smiled on the surface to hide it. "I will do anything for you," he whispered back. Just as the ceremony reached its crescendo, a voice suddenly cut through the phenomenon like a knife. "Thief!! Ambusher!! You have no honor!!" The cry was filled with nothing but anger. "That damned bastard stole my skinless venomous earth mole! I came here to challenge him to a duel!" The words were like thunder rumbles, a stark opposite to the harmony of the ceremony. "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!! KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" Everyone froze, the entire assembly falling into an exaggerated pause. All eyes turned to the source of the interruption. It was an unknown Labor Orc; they could see his face twisted in indescribable rage and determination. He stood at the edge of the gathering, with his chest heaving in an exaggerated manner as if he ran for a thousand miles as he caught his breath. "Wrrraaaakkk!" he screamed again. "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" The words "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" rang through the clearing like a battle cry, it reverberating off the towering stone structures while shaking the leaves on the trees that were scattered to the whole place beside the towers. In the horde of Hornless Orcs and Elven Witches, this was the word that sealed destinies. It meant a challenge, a duel to settle disputes in the only way Orcs knew¡ªthrough raw, primal combat. The Tribe had used it for centuries to resolve conflicts, to prove one''s strength, or to claim what was rightfully theirs. The rules were simple: the stronger Orc won, and the loser had to accept the consequences, whether it was death, dishonor, or exile. In the past, it was called Mak''Gorah, but an unknown spell prevented them from using the word Mak''Gorah, probably due to the origin of the hornless Orc tribe. So, they created a version of themselves called KORNUUM DRHAKAR! Volk stood at the edge of the assembly, with his muscles tense, and his breath ragged with fury. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The scene before him was a mockery, like a cruel twist of fate. The crowd''s roars of approval for Luk''Tar, the warrior who had stolen his prize, filled him with a burning rage. How dare they celebrate him? How dare they cheer for the thief while he, Volk, had been left for dead? If it wasn''t for him being powered by radiation, he would have been left and wouldn''t have received a wife! In this one in a lifetime chance, he would''ve missed it! He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, his vision narrowing to a tunnel of anger that focused solely on Luk''Tar''s smug face. You will pay for it! You will pay for it! He clenched his fists hard, and he didn''t care if his nails were digging into his palms as he tried to rein in his temper. But it was no use. The anger he could feel in his chest boiled over like a hot breath, spilling out of him in a guttural roar. "Uraaaa!!! KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" The words erupted from his throat with a force that seemed to shake the very ground beneath him. "Accept my challenge, you coward!!!" he bellowed, his voice thick with rage and desperation. "Accept my challenge, scum! Thief!!!" Hearing this, the crowd fell silent, their previous cheers fading into a shocked murmur. They looked at Volk, with their eyes wide with disbelief. A Labor Orc? Issuing a challenge? It was unheard of. Labor Orcs were not warriors; they were the backbone of the Tribe, the ones who built, who toiled, who did the work that others couldn''t¡ªor wouldn''t¡ªdo. They were strong, yes, but not in the ways that mattered in combat. They lacked the training, the skill, the bloodthirsty instinct that defined a true warrior. And yet, here was one, shouting for a duel as if he belonged among the elite. Volk could see the doubt in their eyes. He couldn''t help but sneer! They didn''t believe him. They thought him mad, delusional even. And why wouldn''t they? To them, a Labor Orc capturing a skinless venomous earth mole was as likely as a mouse taking down a lion. It was impossible. But Volk knew better. In the fragmented memories of the body he now occupied, he found a term¡ªGrum-gar form. It was similar to the radioactive transformation. He will use it! Soon, his body started cracking! It was slow, he immediately felt an agonizing process as his body twisted and morphed into something stronger, something more terrifying. His muscles began to bulge, straining against his skin as they grew larger. His bones cracked and reformed, expanding to support the massive frame he was becoming. The transformation crawled up his limbs, his arms thickening, his chest broadening. His veins pulsed with energy, glowing faintly as they pumped more green blood through his rapidly expanding body. Finally, the change reached his feet, his toes curling and elongating into powerful claws that dug into the earth beneath him. Volk could feel every inch of him radiated power, an unstoppable force that was only just beginning to show itself. The air around him seemed to vibrate, releasing small shockwaves unseen to the naked eyes, and the crowd watching were now stunned into silence as Volk completed his transformation. Then, with a final surge of energy, Volk threw his head back and let out a roar that split the sky. "ROOOOOOAAARRRRRRRR!!!" Volk roar wasn''t just challenging Luk''Tar anymore. He was challenging the entire Tribe, demanding that they see him not as a Labor Orc, but as a true warrior. Chapter 6 - 6: VOLK, THE STRONGEST OF THEM ALL Volk''s eyes narrowed as the system screen blinked before him. | Ding! | Mission: Get yourself a Nuclear Reactor Vessel! | Reward: Radioactive Ability in the normal orc form and in Gamma Radioactive form. | Failure: A minute of Radioactive form duration reduction. | Volk''s face twisted into a savage confusion. "What is a nuclear reactor vessel?" he mumbled. "Isn''t that a thing that contains nuclear energy? How am I supposed to find that?" However, he would just shake his head, his focus for now was to get a wife to establish a symbiotic relationship with at least one of the elves so he would become aware of Mana once he pair bonded with one. And for now, he had to deal with the current situation to get that bond with a random witch elf. But as the thought of his near-failure in his head was caused by Luk''Tar¡ªknowing that if he hadn''t arrived in time, he would have lost the chance to prove himself and complete the mission¡ªhis fury immediately reignited. He could almost feel the sting of loss, the bitterness of missing out on the reward he could use in the future in his normal form, where he didn''t need to go titan green, making him want to smash this hornless Orc into pieces. With a roar that shook the earth, Volk slammed his fist into the ground, sending a shockwave through the soil. "ROOOAAARRRR!!" he bellowed, his voice seemed to send shockwaves of solide wind through the clearing, causing some random small birds to take flight in panic. "VOLK WANTS TO SMASH THIEF! VOLK ISN''T LYING! VOLK NEVER LIES!" His roar was deafening, like a guttural scream of rage and frustration from the abyss of hatred. His muscles rippled under the strain of his transformation, his skin glowing faintly with the eerie green light of his radioactive form. The ground beneath him even cracked and splintered, it was though the earth was unable to withstand the force of his uncontrollable fury. Around him, the crowd began to murmur. At first, the whispers were doubtful, questioning how could a Labor Orc claim that he caught the skinless venomous earth mole, but as they watched Volk''s Grum-gar form continue to grow more and more imposing, their voices immediately shifted from disbelief to something more hesitant, and even almost fearful. "Did you see that? He''s in Grum-gar form, just like the warriors." "How could a Labor Orc do that? I thought only trained warriors could access it." "It''s not rare, some even transformed into their Grum-gar form, yesterday." "Maybe¡­ maybe he''s telling the truth about the mole. No ordinary Labor Orc could transform like that, only those who have warrior blood on them." Volk heard every word. His sharp ears picked up the conversations from all sides, feeding into his growing confidence. The crowd was beginning to doubt Luk''Tar, to believe in Volk''s strength, and that only fueled his rage further. He was no longer just a Labor Orc in their eyes. He was a force to be reckoned with, a true contender for the honor that Luk''Tar had stolen from him. On the other side of the clearing, Luk''Tar''s eyes widened in shock. ''Did he just transform at will?'' He hadn''t expected this. It was difficult to grasp the ability to transform into their Grum-gar form, as it often took months to access it, but this one... He had easily achieved it! However, Luk''Tar shook his head. This orc seemed overwhelmed by emotions, which may have been the reason he was able to transform this time. Luk''Tar would not feel fear. Not from a Labor Orc. But then, he paused. The thought that Volk could access the Grum-gar form fast enough was unsettling, but more than that, it was dangerous. If Volk could do this, then he could use the Tribe''s ancient magic to expose the truth, to reveal Luk''Tar''s lie. His honor, his reputation, everything he had built could crumble in an instant. Luk''Tar''s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to remain calm. He couldn''t let his fear show. Stepping forward, he met Volk''s furious gaze with a calm, calculated stare. "I don''t know who you are," he began, his voice steady and firm, "but you''re the one who betrayed me back then, together with the other Labor Orcs, and then tried to stab me in the back. You''re lucky I even spared you. And do you really think you''re the only one who can access Grum-gar form? I and the others can too." The words were like a declaration of acceptance, Solluha''r on the side couldn''t help but feel worried, "Luk''Tar," she whispered but the air around Luk''Tar already changed as he began his transformation. His body shuddered as it started to expand, muscles bulging grotesquely beneath his skin. His arms thickened, veins popping out as his hands turned into deadly claws. His chest heaved as it grew broader, his torso becoming a wall of muscle and sinew. Every inch of him pulsed with raw power, but unlike Volk, there was no eerie green glow in his eyes. He was a warrior through and through, honed and trained for battle. His transformation was slow, methodical, each movement deliberate and controlled. The crowd watched in stunned silence as Luk''Tar completed his transformation. His massive form towered over them, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing. Then, with a thunderous voice that shook the very ground, Luk''Tar bellowed, "I Accept!" "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!" His roar echoed through the forest, bouncing off the towering stone structures and amplifying in volume. "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!" The crowd gasped. This was unexpected. Luk''Tar could have denied the challenge. He was the winner of the event; he didn''t need to prove himself further. He could have dismissed Volk as a madman, a liar, and walked away with his prize. But he didn''t. "What is he thinking?" one Orc whispered. "He could just walk away, but he''s accepting the challenge?" another murmured. "He''s risking it all just to fight a Labor Orc?" Luk''Tar ignored the whispers, his eyes locked on Volk. He had to do this. He had to silence the nagging guilt that had plagued him ever since he stole the skinless venomous earth mole. The uncomfortable feeling that gnawed at his conscience, the sense that he had done something wrong, something dishonorable. Maybe, just maybe, if he defeated Volk in combat, that feeling would go away. Besides, he was confident in his abilities. He had trained for years in this form. Volk was just a Labor Orc who had only recently accessed his Grum-gar form. There was no way Volk could match him in combat. Volk, however, was unfazed by Luk''Tar''s transformation. His eyes blazed with fury, the green glow of his radioactive form burning brighter as his anger intensified. He could feel the power surging through his muscles as every single one of it tightened, the raw, unfiltered energy that threatened to devour him. But he didn''t care. All that mattered was taking down the Orc who had stolen from him, who had left him to die. With a primal growl, Volk lunged forward, his massive fists aimed directly at Luk''Tar. "VOLK HATES LYING THIEF!!" he roared, his voice a thunderous bellow that sent shockwaves through the crowd. Luk''Tar watched as Volk charged toward him with a furious intensity, his massive fists seemed so obvious that he would just swing them wildly. There was no strategy, no calculated moves¡ªjust raw, unbridled rage. Luk''Tar''s lips curled into a sneer. This was almost too easy. Volk was nothing more than a Labor Orc who had only recently discovered the Grum-gar form. Luk''Tar had been training for combat his entire life. With a calm breathing, Luk''Tar discarded his weapon, tossing it aside as if it were nothing. He didn''t need it. He was confident in his strength, confident in his fists. As Volk closed the distance between them, Luk''Tar swung his massive arm, and immediately, his fist connected with Volk''s head with a sickening THWACK! The impact was so forcefully violent that Volk''s body whipped backward, and with a powerful slam, Luk''Tar drove Volk''s head into the ground, the earth shattering beneath the blow. CRUNCH! The sound of rock and soil splitting echoed through the clearing. Before Volk could even register the pain, Luk''Tar was on him again, his fists pounding down like hammers. BAM! BAM! BAM! Each strike shook the ground, sending tremors through the earth that rippled outward. Volk''s growls of pain were drowned out by the relentless THUD! of Luk''Tar''s fists colliding with his skull. Each punch was harder than the last, each one driving Volk deeper into the ground, as if Luk''Tar was trying to bury him alive with sheer brute force. "URGH!" Volk grunted, trying to push back, but the blows kept coming. Every time he tried to move, or where he tried to retaliate, Luk''Tar''s fist would hit him with crushing force. His body screamed in agony, his bones rattling under the relentless assault. In time, the world around him started to go blur, the edges of his vision darkening with each devastating hit. Through the haze of pain, Volk could hear the voices of the other Orcs around him, their mocking tones cutting through the air like knives. "What was he thinking?" one Orc scoffed. "A Labor Orc challenging a warrior trained from birth?" "He just learned to access the Grum-gar form," another voice sneered. "And he thinks he can take on someone like Luk''Tar?" "And this one here?" a third voice chimed in with a mocking laugh. "He''s claiming he caught the skinless venomous earth mole? That''s a joke! Everyone knows only the strongest could even get close to that thing!" Their laughter rang in Volk''s ears, to him they were loud and cruel. They didn''t believe him. They didn''t believe he was strong enough, capable enough. To them, he was still just a Labor Orc, destined to fail, to be crushed beneath the heel of someone stronger. THUD! Another punch landed, but something inside Volk snapped. His anger, already a raging inferno, flared even brighter. His vision, once blurred by the pain, began to sharpen, and the mocking voices faded into the background, replaced by the pounding of his own heartbeat. His eyes, glowing with the unnatural green light of his radioactive form, burned even fiercer, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Luk''Tar, noticing the shift in Volk''s expression, hesitated. The Labor Orc should have been unconscious by now, beaten into submission. But Volk wasn''t going down. Instead, he was glaring up at him, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down Luk''Tar''s spine. THUD! S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Luk''Tar delivered another punch, but this time, Volk didn''t budge. His head didn''t slam into the ground. Instead, he remained upright, his gaze locked onto Luk''Tar. Confusion flickered in Luk''Tar''s eyes. His fist still connected with Volk''s skull, but it was as if the Labor Orc had become an immovable object. With a sudden, bone-crushing grip, Volk''s hand shot up and clamped around Luk''Tar''s wrist. The force of the grasp made Luk''Tar wince, as if his confidence wavering for the first time immediately. This wasn''t right. This Labor Orc wasn''t supposed to be this strong, wasn''t supposed to be able to fight back. Volk''s lips curled into a snarl, his voice low and menacing. "VOOOOOOOLLKKK," he growled, his words dripping with fury and defiance. The ground beneath them trembled as Volk''s power surged, his muscles swelling with the force of his destructive rage. "IS THE STRONGEST-" Volk roared, with his voice already echoing through the clearing with the force of a thunderclap, he will add, "OF THEM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLL!!!" With a sudden, explosive movement, Volk flung Luk''Tar away from him, sending the larger Orc hurtling through the air. CRASH! Luk''Tar''s body collided with a tent, the sturdy fabric were torn apart as the force of the impact ripped the tent poles from the ground. Until the whole structure crumpled under the weight, collapsing in on itself as Luk''Tar tumbled through the debris. Meanwhile, the sound of wood splintering and fabric ripping filled the whole silent place, the once-majestic tent now reduced to a heap of wreckage. Luk''Tar slumped to the ground amidst the ruins, dazed and disoriented. The breath had been knocked out of him, and he struggled to regain his composure, blinking through the dust and debris that swirled around his eyes and nose. Meanwhile, Volk stood tall, his chest heaving with each breath, and his eyes were still glowing with an unnatural green light. The place and crowd fell silent, their mocking laughter earlier were now replaced with shock. It was clear. No one had expected this. Chapter 7 - 7: VOLK SMAAAAASH THIEF! | Ding! | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster and bigger. | Time Deduction: Thirty-seconds. | Current time duration: Fifty-seven seconds. | Volk looked at the screen, he then stood tall proudly, proudly making his massive figure cast a shadow that stretched across the battlefield. His muscles bulged and contorted with pure, unadulterated strength as his fists clenched tightly. The energy within him was like a lava, it was hot, and it was as if he was a volcano on the brink of eruption. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk could feel that every sinew of his body was taut and concentrated with power, ready to unleash devastation upon his opponent. His eyes, glowing with an eerie green light, bore into the heavens above as he let out a thunderous roar that shook the very earth beneath his feet. "VOOOOOLK, IS THE STRONGEST THERE IS!!!" His voice boomed, echoing off the surrounding towers and trees. "NO ONE STRONGER THAN VOOOOOLLLKK!!" The force of his declaration was enough to send shivers down the spines of those who watched, both Orc and Elven Witch alike. The sheer power radiating from Volk was overwhelming, that they could even feel the wind''s shockwave slammed to their faces. Even the ground beneath him trembled with every word, as if the earth itself was bowing to his incredible might. Luk''Tar, still reeling from the earlier encounter, staggered to his feet. Even though he tried not to accept this, he could feel his body shaking uncontrollably. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Volk, now even more imposing than before. How had this Labor Orc, who had been beneath his fists just moments ago, resisted his blows? How had Volk not only withstood his punches but grown stronger? His thoughts began to swirl of denial as he tried to comprehend what was happening. Suddenly, his muscles ached, a sharp pain shooting through his arms. He glanced down and noticed his hands trembling, the pain radiating through his arm was from the part where Volk had gripped him earlier. Immediately, Luk''Tar''s gaze flickered back to Volk, who now appeared even larger and wider, his Grum-gar form towering before him like a living mountain of muscle and rage. What is happening? Isn''t he smaller than my Grum-gar form earlier? Suddenly, the murmurs of the surrounding Orcs and Elven Witches reached his ears, with the disbelief and awe in their shock voices. "Did you see that? His form has grown!" "How is this possible? He''s just a Labor Orc!" "His Grum-gar form¡­ it''s twice as big now¡­" "What kind of creature is this Volk?" "Luk''Tar''s in trouble¡­ He''s never faced anything or seen like this." "No, not just Lu''Tark, we also have never seen an Orc like this!" Luk''Tar''s heart pounded in his chest as he absorbed the murmurs, and an unknown fear was born and was growing rapidly with each word. Because of that, he realized something. This wasn''t just a duel anymore; it was a fight for survival! He glanced at his discarded weapons, with his mind thinking of the rules and honor of the Orc tribe. In a KORNUUM DRHAKAR duel, Orcs were allowed to use weapons¡ªit was, after all, a life-and-death battle. Perhaps he should¡­ Before he could finish the thought, Volk let out another deafening roar. "TIIIIME!!" His voice shook the very air around them as if he sucked them all in violently. "FOOORR VOLK TO SMASH THIEF!!!" Without hesitation, Luk''Tar dove toward his discarded sword and shield. He didn''t care if muscles were still strained as he scooped up the spear. With a quick desperation, he grabbed the shield, feeling its sturdy frame offering a sense of protection. He immediately assumed a defensive posture, crouching low with his shield raised and sword poised to strike. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at the behemoth that was Volk. "Ha," "Ha," "I can do this," he mumbled to himself. But Volk didn''t care. With a guttural growl, he launched himself at Luk''Tar. Making the ground beneath him trembled with each step, and the air vibrated with his roar. "GRAAAAA!!!" Luk''Tar barely had time to react. He thrust his spear forward, aiming for Volk''s chest. The weapon struck with a resounding CLANG!¡ªbut it didn''t pierce. The spearhead merely glanced off Volk''s chest, as if striking solid rock. Luk''Tar''s eyes widened in shock, his mind immediately struggling to comprehend how the spear had failed. However, before he could think further, Volk was upon him. With a fierce growl, "GRAAAAAA!!," Volk''s massive hand shot out, grabbing Luk''Tar''s arm with a vice-like grip. Luk''Tar''s heart skipped a beat as he felt the overwhelming destructive strength in Volk''s grasp, he could even feel some of his bones creaking under the pressure. "GRAAAAAA!!!" With a roar, Volk pulled Luk''Tar toward him and smashed his head into Luk''Tar''s face. BANG! The impact was bone-shattering, sending a shockwave through Luk''Tar''s skull. The sound echoed through the clearing as Luk''Tar''s body was flung backward, crashing into the ground with a heavy thud. Green blood spattered from his nose, eyes, and mouth, staining the earth beneath him. He lay there, dazed and barely conscious, he could feel his vision swimming somewhere. And every single fiber of his being were screaming in pain, but he forced himself to stand, albeit shakily. When he did, his legs wobbled beneath him as he wiped the blood from his face with a trembling hand. Through the haze of pain, he muttered to himself with disbelief. "Just what creature is he!?" His question was answered by the sight of Volk charging at him again, his massive form filling Luk''Tar''s vision. "GRAAAAAA!!!" Volk''s roar tore through the air as he leaped into the air, both feet aimed directly at Luk''Tar''s chest. Lu''Tark has no choice but to raise his shield. BANG! The force of the impact was unimaginable. The shield was obliterated instantly, like an egg. This connected Volk''s feet with Luk''Tar''s chest with the power of a battering ram, spilling Volk''s body with a sticky blood and sending Lu''Tark flying through the air. Soon, his body tumbled over and over, with a trail of dark green blood marking his path as he crashed and rolled into the ground, before skidding to a halt several feet away. Meanwhile, Volk landed with a thunderous crash, the ground quaking beneath him as he stood tall. His eyes blazed with a fierce, unrelenting light as he gazed upon the fallen form of Luk''Tar, who now lay motionless in the dirt. The surrounding Elves and Orcs were silent, they feel like if they talk now, Volk would attack them too. Not caring where he was, Volk threw his head back and roared to the sky, "VOOOOOLLLK SMAAAAASHHH THIEEEEFFFFF!!!" "VOODOOLLKK IS THE STRONGEST THERE IS!!!" Volk stood tall, his massive figure towering over the majority, his chest not even heaving with exertion but with satisfied rage. He had won. The thief Luk''Tar lay defeated, flung like a ragdoll across the opposite direction. "ROOOAAARRR!!" He bellowed again, with a thunderous voice that seemingly declared his dominance. He roared repeatedly, each one more ferocious than the last. But as Volk continued to unleash his triumphant cries, something unknown began to shift in the atmosphere. The surrounding Orcs and Elves, who had been stunned into silence, with their eyes wide with disbelief at the spectacle before them, now began to stir. Slowly, they snapped back to reality. Their initial shock transformed into something else¡ªsomething unspoken, yet understood among them. They exchanged glances, sending a silent communication passing between them, and then formed a collective decision. One by one, they nodded at each other, their mutual understanding was as fast as lightning when it took root. The Elven Witches, with their ethereal grace, and the Orcs, with their imposing strength, moved toward Volk''s direction. Their approach was slow, almost hesitant, but there was a growing resolve in their movements that they needed to do this. Volk, still roaring mightily, noticed the shift in the air. His instincts kicked in, and he stopped mid-roar, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he watched the group approach. "Grrrrr¡­" A low growl rumbled in his throat, right away, his muscles tenses, ready for combat. Were they here to challenge him? Volk is not scared. But before he could act, one of the Orcs stepped forward, on the spot, he shouted with his voice booming across the clearing, "Hail! The KORNUUM DRHAKAR winner and the new Champion, Volk!" and he repeated, "Hail! The KORNUUM DRHAKAR winner and the new Champion, Volk!" Volk''s radioactive form faltered for a moment, taken aback by the declaration. The glow in his eyes flickered as he processed the words. "VOLK? CHAMPION?" he growled, his loud voice filled with confusion. The Orcs and Elves, their voices now blending together in a harmonious chorus, began to chant, "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" The chant grew louder, their voices rising in unison, creating a powerful rhythm that echoed through the trees. The surrounding creatures fell silent, as if paying homage to the new champion in their midst. Meanwhile, Volk stood still there, with his massive form towering over them all, he was unable to comprehend the situation. "VOLK CHAMPION?" he mumbled. It was as if the idea was a foreign concept to him, something he had never considered possible. But the chant continued to grow in intensity, the voices around him rising to a fever pitch. "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" Volk''s expression shifted from confusion to acceptance as the realization dawned on his head. The power of their words, the weight of their recognition, began to fill him with a sense of pride. He had done it. He had proven himself, not just to them, but to the primal force within him. Finally, he embraced it. "I, VOOOOLLKK!!! CHAMPION!" he roared, with his voice booming across the clearing in an unstoppable force. The ground beneath him trembled with the force of his declaration. The crowd responded with even more fervor, their voices rising to match his intensity. "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" Volk repeated the words, each time louder, more powerful, feeding off the energy of the crowd. His voice blended with theirs, creating a symphony of triumph that resonated through the very core of the forest. His radioactive form seemed to pulse with a newfound sense of ego, of pride, as if it were feeding off the adulation of the masses. Inside, the real Volk felt a surge of satisfaction. The primal beast within him revered in the glory, in the unfamiliar recognition. It was a feeling unlike anything he had experienced, like there was a sense of fulfillment that he hadn''t realized he craved. But instead of pushing it away, instead of denying it, he let it sink in deep, embracing the moment for what it was. Great! The chant continued, growing louder, more intense with each passing second. "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" Volk threw his head back and roared once more. "ROOOARRRR!!!" Together, their voices created a cacophony of triumph, a declaration of Volk''s new status in this magical orc tribe! Chapter 8 - 8: Solluhar As Volk stood amidst the cheering crowd, the sound of their voices filled the air, rising in a symphony of triumph and adoration. His victory over Luk''Tar felt fresh, and his massive Grum-gar form still pulsed with the lingering energy of the fight. The Orcs and Elves chanted his name, "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" Their voices echoed through the tents, and for a moment, Volk let himself bask in the glory of his triumph. Then, suddenly, his vision blurred, and a familiar system notification materialized before his eyes. | Ding! | Duration: Zero. | The host will now turn back to being normal, or if the host wishes, the host could stay a rampaging mindless beast. | Volk blinked, and he sneered, "No way!" He mumbled. Instantaneously, he felt a shift within his body. His towering, titan-like form began to change. His muscles, once bulging with an almost uncontrollable power, started to contract. First, his massive and thick arms slowly reduced in size, the thick cords of muscle smoothing out as they retracted. His chest followed, the broad expanse narrowing, his pectorals no longer jutting out with such extreme definition. The transformation continued down his torso, his rock-hard abdomen softening into the tightly packed muscles of his regular form. His legs, too, grew slimmer, their immense power condensed into the more manageable frame of a warrior Orc. His skin, which had taken on a faint greenish glow, returned to its natural, earthy tone. Finally, his head, once enlarged and fierce with rage, returned to its normal size, now his face lost the sharp, monstrous angles that had come with his Grum-gar transformation¡ªradioactive form. As Volk completed his transformation, his breathing steadied, and he flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar strength of his regular form. The crowd around him continued to cheer, seemingly unfazed by his change. "Volk Champion!" "Volk Champion!" To them, he was still the champion who had defeated Luk''Tar, still the Orc who had earned their respect and admiration. But then, a voice broke through the cheers, sharp and filled with venom. "Luk''Tar was a fool!" the voice spat out. The crowd quieted slightly as an older Orc stepped forward, his eyes narrowed in disdain. "He accepted the KORNUUM DRHAKAR challenge, thinking Volk was just a normal Labor Orc, easy to defeat. He thought he could hide his dishonor by avoiding the crystal that would have exposed him for what he really is!" Like magic, the crowd began to murmur in agreement. "But what happened? Luk''Tar lost! He lost because Volk is the true champion!" the older Orc continued, his voice rising with each word. "Luk''Tar thought he could keep his secrets, but the truth always comes out!" As the older Orc finished, another Orc, this one younger, stepped forward, his face contorted in anger. "Luk''Tar has always been shameless! I remember when he challenged me for my place in the tribe, knowing I was injured and couldn''t fight back. He didn''t care about honor then, and he doesn''t care about it now!" A third Orc, his voice rough and full of bitterness, added, "Luk''Tar betrayed me too! He promised to help me when my family was struggling, but he took what little we had for himself. He''s nothing but a liar and a cheat!" The crowd''s murmurs grew louder, their voices blending into a chorus of condemnation. "He''s always been this way!" "Luk''Tar is no true warrior!" "Volk showed him what real strength is!" The voices overlapped, each one adding to the growing tide of resentment against Luk''Tar. Volk stood in silence, his brow furrowed as he listened to the accusations. The cheers of the crowd had turned into something darker, something bitter and vengeful. He could see it now¡ªif he had lost, these same people would have turned on him just as quickly. This awareness made him tighten his jaw, but he remained quiet, letting the crowd have their say while letting them pass through his ears. But as the Orcs and Elves continued to vent their anger, Volk''s attention was suddenly drawn to a figure standing at the edge of the crowd. His keen eyes focused on her, a young Elven woman with delicate features and long, green hair. "Isn''t she the one with the thief?" She was oblivious to his gaze, her head bowed, and her shoulders trembling slightly as if she were holding back tears in pain. The woman''s lips moved, barely a whisper, but Volk''s sharp ears caught the words. "All of you are wrong," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. "All of you are wrong." S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s brow furrowed as he watched her, and the crowd''s accusations faded into the background as he focused on her, intrigued by the sorrow that seemed to envelop her. The woman, Solluha''r, closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting back to memories she had kept hidden in her heart. "Luk''Tar was not like this, he is kind, brave and won''t do such things," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "There was kindness in him. I remember when he saved that young Orc boy from drowning. He didn''t want anyone to know, but I saw it. I saw the way he risked his life to save another." Her words were lost on the crowd, but Volk heard them clearly. His eyes narrowed as he listened, his curiosity was growing in a steady pace. Solluha''r''s voice grew more steady as she continued, her memories pouring out like a flood. "And the time he gave his food to the elders when the harvest was bad. He went hungry for days, but he didn''t tell anyone. He did it because he cared, because he knew they needed it more than he did." Volk''s expression softened slightly as he listened, a flicker of something¡ªpity, perhaps¡ªcrossing his features. "And then there was the day he found that injured wolf," Solluha''r murmured, her eyes filling with tears. "He nursed it back to health in secret, even though the others would have killed it. He let it go when it was strong enough to survive on its own. He wasn''t always this way... he wasn''t always so lost." As Solluha''r spoke, her mind was flooded with memories of Luk''Tar, not as the disgraced warrior he was now, but as the Orc she had once known. Her heart ached as she remembered those memories with him. She clenched her fists, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Why, Lu''Tark?" she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "Why did you have to accept that duel? You could have just ignored him... Why did you have to prove yourself? Who is he even?" Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and pain, the memories of the moments she had shared with Lu''Tark. Although they had never even kissed, they already expressed the feelings they had for each other. And now, all of it was shattered. Solluha''r''s eyes filled with tears as she remembered the bond they had shared, a bond that had been torn apart when her talent was revealed. She had accepted her fate, knowing that her place was with the tribe, not with Lu''Tark. However, the news of his capture of the skinless venomous earth mole had rekindled her hope, a hope that had now been dashed once again. "Why, Lu''Tark?" she whispered again, her voice barely audible. "Why did it have to end like this?" As she stood there, lost in her despair, a shadow fell over her. She looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting the gaze of Volk, who had been watching her silently. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something that made her heart skip a beat. Volk, who had remained silent through it all, watched Solluha''r with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper¡ªsomething he couldn''t quite place. "I wouldn''t have done this if he didn''t did that to me first," he suddenly said. Chapter 9 - 9: Transactional wife Volk watched Solluha''r closely as the noise of the cheering crowd slowly faded into the background. The young Elven woman, her silver like green hair gleaming in the dimming light, had just witnessed the brutal defeat of her lover, Luk''Tar. Her face, which had been pale and filled with sorrow, now showed the first flicker of something else¡ªan acknowledgment of Volk''s power and the harsh reality of her situation. Volk''s voice broke the tense silence between them. "I wouldn''t have done this if he didn''t do that to me first." Solluha''r''s eyes flicked upward, meeting his eyes for just a brief moment before she dropped her gaze to the ground. She nodded slowly, "Yes, I believe you." Volk was taken aback by her response. In her words and in the way she carried herself, he saw a strength that he hadn''t expected. Despite the turmoil in her heart, she was willing to accept the outcome of the duel for the sake of the tribe. Instead of getting angry at him, she was willing to let go of her lover, Luk''Tar, because she knew what was expected of her. Her loyalty to the tribe, her sense of duty¡ªit all resonated with Volk. This girl is strong, Volk thought to himself. Stronger than most. Back in his world, women often chose their providers over their true lovers, sacrificing love for security and survival. He had seen it time and again¡ªgirls marrying someone else while still holding onto thoughts of their true love. It was a harsh reality, but one that made sense in the brutal world they lived in. Survival often demanded such sacrifices. In this, Solluha''r''s decision to accept her fate didn''t surprise him, but it did make him respect her. She was doing what she had to for the tribe, and he understood that. Suddenly, an idea formed in Volk''s mind, one that was as practical as it was unexpected. He looked at Solluha''r, who was still lost in her own thoughts, and asked, "How about you become my wife?" The words were like a sudden change of weather. Solluha''r''s eyes widened slightly, but there was no shock in her expression. It was as if she had expected this, she had already resigned herself to such a fate even if Luk''Tar failed and she would get together with somebody among the Dreadmaw Clan. Her lips trembled slightly before she nodded. Volk could see the heartbreak in her eyes, even though she tried to hide it. He knew that her heart still belonged to Luk''Tar, but that didn''t matter to him. His reasons for wanting her as his wife were clear in his mind. He knew what kind of woman she was¡ªstrong, dutiful, and talented. She wouldn''t be a burden, and he wouldn''t have to worry about her feelings getting in the way of what needed to be done. All he needed was someone who would follow his command, someone who would help him grow stronger. Once an Elven Witch like Solluha''r paired with an Orc like him, he knew his power would increase because he would now be sensitive to mana. Plus, her talents were unmatched among the younger generation, and with her by his side, he would become an even more formidable warrior. And if, in the future, she is still pinned for Luk''Tar, Volk would have no qualms about letting her go. After all, his mission didn''t require emotions¡ªit only required results. She was chosen as the grand prize of the event for a reason, and that reason was her potential to elevate the strength of any warrior she was paired with. Volk would use that to his advantage. Solluha''r remained silent, her acceptance without surprise or argument. She had already accepted her fate long ago, ever since she was chosen as the grand prize. But the turn of events had reignited a small hope within her¡ªa hope that Luk''Tar might be the one to hold her. That hope was now extinguished, leaving her with nothing but the cold reality that it would be Volk, not Luk''Tar, who would claim her. Volk saw the sadness in her eyes and suddenly reached out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His grip was firm but not cruel, and his voice was low and steady as he spoke. "Look," he said, "I''m not forcing you. If in the future I find someone else, I''ll let you go. Then, you can go back to your lover, Luk''Tar." Solluha''r''s eyes filled with tears as she listened to Volk''s words. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, and she knew that he was speaking the truth. He didn''t care about her feelings, didn''t care about the love she had lost. To him, she was a means to an end, a tool to help him achieve his goals. And yet, there was something in his words that made her feel a tiny flicker of relief. He was giving her an out, a chance to return to Luk''Tar if things changed. "You and Luk''Tar are meant to be," Volk continued, his voice unwavering. "Whatever I do, I know that you will never truly belong to me. I just need you for your talent for now, nothing less, nothing more." Tears spilled over Solluha''r''s cheeks, and she nodded her head, accepting the cold reality of her situation. Volk smiled, a thin, satisfied smile, and released her chin. "Good, good," he said, his voice carrying a note of approval. "Then there''s no need to punish Luk''Tar. I''ll let him live because of your decision." Solluha''r''s eyes widened in surprise as she looked at Volk, her tears momentarily forgotten. The insight of what he had just said struck her in the head like a blow¡ªhe would have punished Luk''Tar if she had refused. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she realized how close she had come to sealing her lover''s fate with her own words. Volk''s smile widened as he saw the surprise in her eyes. "Yes, I would have," he said, answering the question that she hadn''t asked. "But you made the right choice. Now, we can both get what we want." Solluha''r could only nod again, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she had been forced to choose between her own happiness and Luk''Tar''s life. She had chosen the latter, sacrificing her own desires for the sake of the man she loved. But in doing so, she had also bound herself to Volk, a warrior she barely knew, a man who saw her only as a tool to be used. Everything else¡ªthe crowd''s noise, Volk''s voice, her own thoughts¡ªfaded into nothingness. The world around her seemed to dissolve, leaving only the weight of her decision pressing down on her, crushing her spirit. All that remained was a deep, unknown and an overwhelming sense of emptiness. Meanwhile, Volk noticed the sadness in Solluha''r''s eyes deepening. A flicker of an idea crossed his mind. Without warning, he wrapped his large hand around her waist, lifting her effortlessly into the air. He secured her against him, his right hand firmly grasping her backside while his left hand remained on her chin. He brought her face close to his, their noses almost touching. His voice was low, resonating with a surprising gentleness as he spoke. "I know this is hard," Volk began, his words uncharacteristically soft. "I can see it in your eyes. You feel like a tool, something to be used. But believe me, I don''t want this any more than you do. I''m in the same situation as you, forced into something neither of us asked for." His words were like a truthful whisper of the warm wind, laden with a truth that was hard for Solluha''r to ignore. Volk''s tone shifted as he continued, his voice growing firmer, more resolute. "Our tribe is in danger, Solluha''r. We''re living on the edge, surrounded by enemies in this godforsaken forest. We''ve escaped the Dark Elven Witches and the Red Elven Warlocks, but how long can we survive like this? "We need strength, and that''s why I chose you. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to¡ªfor the horde, for the tribe, and for the elves. Can you understand that?" Solluha''r''s voice was barely above a whisper, but she nodded and replied, "Yes, I understand." "See," Volk said, his tone softening again, "we''re in the same boat. If I had a choice, I might have chosen someone else, someone who felt the same way about me. But just like you, I don''t have a choice. We''re both forced into this for the greater good." Volk''s eyes searched hers, his expression serious. "So, I''m going to ask you again, Solluha''r. Do you want to be my wife? If you feel like a tool, if you truly don''t want this, just say no. I''ll understand. I''ll choose the second most talented girl in the tribe, and we can both go our separate ways." Solluha''r hesitated, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. She could see the sincerity in Volk''s eyes, the heavy burden of responsibility they both carried. In that moment, she realized that this man, despite his rough exterior and brutal strength, was just as trapped by fate as she was. He didn''t want this any more than she did, but he was willing to do whatever it took to protect the tribe, the horde, and the elves. Her resolve hardened. This was her fate, and it was Volk''s as well. With a slow, deliberate nod, Solluha''r accepted her destiny. Seeing the determination in her eyes, Volk''s expression changed. A confident smile spread across his face, and without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was deep, intense, and it took Solluha''r by surprise. Her eyes widened, her body stiffened at first, but soon she felt herself melting into his embrace. The kiss seemed to last an eternity, a moment in which all of her fears and doubts were washed away by the overwhelming force of his will. When Volk finally pulled away, he looked at her with a satisfied grin. "Tasty," he murmured, the word filled with a possessive pride. Solluha''r blinked, bewildered by the sudden intimacy. Her mind was a jumble of emotions, and she found herself asking, "Why did you kiss me?" Chapter 10 - 10: Symbiotic relationship Volk''s confident smile widened, a glint of determination in his eyes. He leaned in closer to Solluha''r, with a deep and unwavering voice. "I kissed you because I wanted to," he said, his tone firm. "And I''m grateful that you accepted. I have one life to live, Solluha''r, and I could die at any moment. "Since you''re now mine, I won''t waste a single moment. I''ll enjoy every second with you. "No! "I''ll make sure every second, I will enjoy you! "When the day comes that you want to leave or when I have to let you go, I''ll know that I didn''t waste a damn second and I won''t regret every single thing that will happen between us!" As his words sank in, Solluha''r''s face turned a deep shade of red. Her body trembled slightly, and a strange warmth spread through her, emanating from deep within. She couldn''t explain it, but something inside her was awakening¡ªa heat, a strange warm wetness down below, and an unknown yearning she kept denying that she had never felt before. Without warning, Volk tightened his grip around her waist, lifting her even higher, and then swung her around with surprising grace. Her world spun for a moment before he began to walk toward the center of the horde, carrying her like a prized possession. The sudden movement made her gasp, but before she could protest, Volk''s booming voice echoed across the gathering. "She will be my wife!" he declared, with a voice filled with pride. The entire tribe¡ªOrcs and Elves alike¡ªfell silent. The air seemed to thicken with the weight of his words. Faces turned toward them, eyes wide with shock and curiosity. Murmurs started to spread through the crowd, questions and speculations whispered among them. Many knew Solluha''r was Lu''Tark''s intended partner, and confusion rippled through the horde. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Solluha''r''s blush deepened, her embarrassment almost overwhelming. She felt every eye on her, judging, questioning, and she desperately tried to avoid meeting any of them. But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw him¡ªLu''Tark. He was conscious now, standing with the support of several Orcs. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, and guilt surged through her like a tidal wave. She forced herself to look away, to focus on Volk, to focus on the tribe. This was for the tribe, she told herself, and she had to do this. Yes, this was for the tribe, and she had to do this, repeating it like a mantra. Lu''Tark, meanwhile, felt his heart shatter as he watched the scene unfold. The sight of Solluha''r, blushing and being carried like a princess by the one who defeated him, enjoying the moment despite her earlier reluctance, was more than he could bear. The Orcs supporting him began to pull him away, with a harsh and mocking tone on their voices. "Let''s go," one of them said, his tone sharp. "There''s no point in watching this ceremony." Another snorted, adding with disdain, "You''ve lost. It''s over." Lu''Tark nodded weakly, feeling his spirit completely crushed. His once vibrant eyes now looked hollow and lifeless as he accepted his fate. There was nothing left for him here, nothing but the bitter taste of defeat and loss of his one and only love. Back at the center of the horde, Volk was watching Lu''Tark in the corner of his eyes, and his eyes would beam with a malevolent glint, but he quickly hid it. Soon, he brought Solluha''r to stand before a massive bonfire that roared with magical energy. The flames crackled and danced, their glow casting long shadows over the gathering. The air around them was charged with power, a palpable force that made the hair on Solluha''r''s arms stand on end. The tribe began to chant, their voices rising in a rhythmic, ancient song that resonated deep within the earth. The words were old, older than any of them, passed down through generations. The chant echoed through the clearing, each note a piece of their history, their struggles, and their unity. As the chant grew louder, the fire before them blazed higher, its flames tinged with colors beyond the natural spectrum¡ªvivid purples, deep blues, and fiery reds. Solluha''r felt the warmth of the fire envelop her, but it wasn''t just heat¡ªit was something more, something alive. The magic of the bonfire seeped into her skin, filling her with an energy she had never experienced before. It was as if the very essence of the tribe was flowing through her veins, binding her to this moment, to Volk, and to their shared destiny. Volk, too, felt the magic wrapping around him, invigorating him, heightening his senses. He could see the uncertainty flickering in Solluha''r''s eyes, the lingering doubt. He knew what this meant to her, how close she had been to becoming Lu''Tark''s partner, and now here she was, standing on the brink of a new life with him instead. He leaned in, his voice low but intense. "Are you sure about this, Solluha''r? If you''re not ready, you can say no. I won''t hold it against you." Solluha''r''s heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She remembered Lu''Tark, the promises they had made to each other, the future they had imagined together. But she also knew the reality of their situation. This was for the tribe, for their survival, for the greater good. With a deep breath, she shook her head, pushing away the guilt, the doubt, and any lingering attachment she believed she still had. "I want to do this," she said, her voice firm despite the turmoil inside her. "For the tribe." Volk nodded. "Good," he said, his voice resonating with approval. He looked into her eyes, seeing the resolve there, the acceptance. Meanwhile, the chant reached its climax, the voices of the tribe swelling in unison as the flames of the bonfire surged even higher. Suddenly, a phenomenon began to unfold¡ªa swirling mist rose from the ground, mingling with the fire, enveloping Volk and Solluha''r in a cocoon of light and magic. The air shimmered with energy, the very fabric of reality bending around them as the ritual reached its peak. Solluha''r could feel the magic pulsing through her, binding her to Volk in a way that went beyond mere words or vows. It was a connection forged in the very essence of their beings, a bond that would shape their future, whatever that future might be. Despite the lingering sadness in her heart, she felt a strange sense of peace, as if she had finally found her place, her purpose. As the mist and flames enveloped them, their silhouettes began to blur, fading into the swirling vortex of magic. The last thing Solluha''r saw before everything disappeared was Volk''s face, his eyes filled with determination and a strange, unexpected warmth. Then, everything was consumed by the light, and the two of them were gone, their fates sealed by the ancient ritual. After a few minutes, as the mystical flames began to recede, the scorching heat that had enveloped Volk''s chest started to diminish, leaving behind fiery, glowing markings etched into his skin. The sensation was more than just skin deep; it was as if the very essence of the fire had embedded itself into his soul, burning with a persistent intensity. He exhaled, the breath escaping his lips like a hiss¡ªhssss¡ªas the realization of what had just happened settled over him. Suddenly, he noticed Solluha''r swaying, her legs buckling beneath her as the effects of the transformation took their toll. Her small, delicate frame had begun to expand, growing heavier, her limbs longer and more muscular. The air around her seemed to hum¡ªbzzzz¡ªwith energy, as if the very atmosphere recognized the change. Before she could collapse, Volk sprang towards her. His powerful arms shot out¡ªwhish¡ªand he caught her with ease. Holding her, he could feel her body heat, almost feverish, against his skin. He could feel the little strange fiery aura radiating off her, like aa pulsing warmth that seemed to resonate with the marks on his chest. The silence of the moment was punctuated only by the crackling of the dying flames¡ªcrackle, crackle¡ªas Volk cradled her in his arms. Solluha''r''s breathing was ragged¡ªhuff, huff¡ªand her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, filled with a mixture of confusion, fear, and something else¡ªsomething deeper, perhaps a dawning understanding of their newfound connection. "Easy now," Volk murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air¡ªrumble. "I''ve got you." Solluha''r''s lips quivered¡ªquiver¡ªas she tried to speak, but the words wouldn''t come. Instead, she simply nodded, and a small, almost imperceptible movement that Volk felt more than saw. Suddenly, Volk felt that her body, once petite and fragile, had transformed into something more heavy. Taking a clear view of her whole body in his arms, he now felt that she had once stood at a modest height, but now reached nearly seven feet, with her frame broader and more imposing. He could confirm it with the murmurs from the gathered tribe members¡ªmurmur, murmur¡ªas they too noticed the dramatic change in Solluha''r. Whispers of astonishment rippled through the crowd like a wave¡ªwhoosh¡ªas Orcs and Elves alike exchanged stunned glances. "Did you see that?" one voice whispered, barely audible. "She''s grown so much," another added, disbelief tinged with awe. "Is it normal? I think she''s too big," an older Orc commented, his voice grave. "I have never seen an elven race become as big as her size now, is that normal?" Volk''s sharp ears caught every word¡ªshing, shing¡ªbut his focus remained on the woman in his arms. He could feel the tremors in her body¡ªtremble, tremble¡ªas she adjusted to her new form, the weight of what had happened pressed down on her just as heavily as her new physical mass. Volk decided just to stare at her. Solluha''r''s eyes widened slightly¡ªblink, blink¡ªas she absorbed his words. There was a flicker of something in her gaze¡ªperhaps a hint of resolve, or maybe just the first glimmer of acceptance. Volk could see that she was struggling to process everything, so he slowly lowered her to the ground, but his hands remained steady¡ªthump¡ªagainst her shoulders, supporting her until she was sure of her footing. The transformation had clearly taken a toll, and Volk could feel the strain in her muscles¡ªstrain, strain¡ªas she adjusted to her new body. The murmurs around them continued¡ªmurmur, murmur¡ªbut Volk ignored them. His attention was entirely on Solluha''r, on the woman who had just become his partner in a way that went beyond any normal bond. He could feel the connection between them, a pulsing energy that thrummed¡ªthrum, thrum¡ªbeneath the surface, tying them together in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. Before Volk could say anything more, a soft chime echoed in his mind¡ªding¡ªthe familiar sound of the system notification snapping him back to reality. | Ding! | Mission: Get yourself a Nuclear Reactor Vessel! | Status: Completed! | Chapter 11 - 11: Radioactive Abilities As Volk stood there, holding the newly transformed Solluha''r in his arms, another screen suddenly materialized before his eyes, glowing with an eerie light. His gaze sharpened as he read the words that appeared: | Ding! | Name: Solluha''r Dohur''khandel. | Age: 18 years old. | Symbiotic relationship: Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel. | Nuclear Energy Vessels: 4. | For a moment, Volk was speechless, his thoughts swirling in confusion. What? He thought, with a swirling head. She''s the Nuclear Reactor Vessel? His brow furrowed as the implications began to sink in. How is this possible? Why is she a Nuclear Reactor Vessel? The questions bombarded his mind, but no answers came. Is she going to be dangerous? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Volk''s instincts screamed at him to protect, but from what? From her? The woman he had just vowed to share his life with? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but his unease lingered like an important event he shouldn''t ignore. Just then, as if responding to his silent turmoil, the system chimed in¡ªDing!¡ªand more text scrolled across the screen: | Ding! | Solluha''r will live peacefully and normally as a vessel. She is not radioactive and will be immune to radiation depending on her Mana manipulation ability. | Volk let out a breath he didn''t realize he''d been holding. So, she''s safe¡­ and immune to radiation? The relief was immense, he was worried the tribe would explode but he still couldn''t shake the oddness of it all. Mana manipulation? He wondered just how powerful she might become with this strange new status. Before Volk could dwell on it further, another system screen appeared¡ªDing¡ªflashing with more information: | Ding! | Due to the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel having four energy storages, the host, Volk, can instantly store four types of nuclear energies using the symbiotic relationship: Botanical, Wind, Earth, and Water. | S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A slow grin spread across Volk''s face. Four types of nuclear energy¡­ He was clueless but it doesn''t matter. He could feel an unknown power within him thrumming beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed in this magical world that he is now living in. However, there was one nagging question that he couldn''t ignore¡ªHow could I make use of all these things? The system seemed to anticipate his thoughts, for it flashed again¡ªDing!¡ªwith a new message: | As a reward for obtaining a Nuclear Reactor Vessel, the host will be given two rewards. | First reward: Radioactive Absorption in the normal orc form! | Volk''s eyes widened. Absorption? The text continued: | Ding! | The host can now absorb radioactive materials or energies everywhere, depending on the Nuclear Energy Vessels that the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel has. | Excitement surged through Volk as he absorbed the information. In this realm, there was something known as Magical radiation, and it was everywhere. The forest they lived in was surrounded by Magical radiations emitted by the trees, and many other places were teeming with radioactive magics. With this ability, Volk realized, I can feel safe anywhere! But even as he reveled in this newfound security, another thought bubbled up to the surface¡ªIs that what I need? Volk''s mind whirled. A radiation janitor? No, he wanted more than that. He needed something he could use in battle, something that would make him a force to be reckoned with in this magical world. Something that could be used in battle, I want something else! As if the system heard his wish, the screen flashed again¡ªDing!¡ªand a new message appeared: | Ding! | For the second reward, the host will be given a radioactive ability called Elemental Nuclear Strikes! | Volk blinked, his interest piqued. Elemental Nuclear Strikes? The text continued: | An ability that can only be used in Radioactive form by Striking or Punching with such force that it generates destructive magical shockwaves! | A surge of adrenaline coursed through Volk''s veins as he read on, his heart pounding in anticipation. | Nuclear Strikes can be used normally, but there are variations that depend on the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel''s mana manipulation ability and level. | These variations have different effects and different destructive powers and it all depends on the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel Ability | Volk could barely contain his excitement. He felt like a child on the verge of opening a long-awaited gift. What''s her level? he wondered, his eyes scanning the screen eagerly. | Ding! | Solar, the Nuclear Reactor Main Vessel''s elemental mana manipulation masteries: | Nuclear Botanical Strikes: level 8. | Nuclear Wind Strikes: level 5. | Nuclear Earth Strikes: level 1. | Nuclear Water Strikes: level 1. | Volk nearly jumped for joy. Level 8 in Botanical! He marveled at the strength she already possessed. And Wind at level 5? Earth and Water at level 1? He didn''t care how he could use that, but it sounds astounding. As expected of nuke abilities! He imagined the shockwaves tearing through enemies, uprooting trees, and reshaping the battlefield itself. Unable to contain himself, Volk actually did jump¡ªthud¡ªhis heavy boots hitting the ground with a loud impact. He could use something like a nuclear powered ability with his bare hands, and there are even elemental variations of it which he is not knowledgeable about. However, he believes he will eventually learn them, he just needs more time to practice. The other orcs and elves looked at him in surprise, but their surprise quickly turned to understanding and then to laughter. They could see the joy on his face, the pride that radiated from him. He wasn''t just happy about having a talented wife¡ªno, they realized that Volk''s talent must be immense as well, to have a symbiotic partner become like that¡ªit''s like they are a perfect fit for together. The obvious information spread through the crowd like forgotten house fire, and soon the cheers began to rise¡ªcheer, cheer¡ªgrowing louder and more fervent with each passing second. "Volk Champion!" they shouted. "Volk Champion!" The chant grew stronger, reverberating through the clearing. "Volk Champion!" Volk''s chest swelled with pride. He had never felt so powerful, so alive. His gaze shifted to Solluha''r who had been quiet through all the commotion. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions that Volk couldn''t quite read. But before he could say anything, she finally spoke, with her voice soft but steady. "I¡­ I need to rest," Solluha''r said, her voice trembling slightly from the weight of the transformation and the events that had just unfolded. She felt like she couldn''t take them and she needed to rest for now. Volk nodded, his earlier exuberance tempered by her obvious exhaustion. He tightened his hold on her, supporting her now larger frame as he guided her away from the cheering crowd, his mind already planning the next steps. There was much to learn, much to explore about their new abilities, but for now, he would let her rest. After all, knowing the nuclear abilities he had now was great news for him. Chapter 12 - 12: Changing Area Suddenly, Volk snapped back to reality from the sound of chanting¡ª"Breed! Breed! Breed! Breed!" The cries rang through the air, echoing off the trees and reverberating through the forest. Startled, Volk nearly lost his footing, stumbling slightly as he carried Solluha''r in his arms. Her weight was different now, heavier, more substantial. But it wasn''t just her physical transformation that caused him to pause; it was the nature of the chants that caught him off guard. "Breed! Breed! Breed! Breed!" The Orcs and Elves around him continued to shout, their voices growing louder and more insistent. Volk slightly felt a flush of embarrassment rising in his cheeks. He had forgotten how deeply ingrained this practice was in the tribe. In this magical orc and elf tribe, where survival was a daily battle and their numbers were constantly dwindling due to the relentless pursuit of the Dark Elven Witches and the Red Elven Warlocks, breeding was seen as an urgent necessity. As soon as a symbiotic connection was established, it was expected that the pair would procreate immediately, ensuring the continued growth of the tribe''s population. Sollahur, cradled in Volk''s arms, blushed deeply, and it''s obvious that her face turned into a brilliant shade of red. She hid her face in his chest, trying to escape the stares and the cries that surrounded them. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She knew this was the tribe''s way, but it didn''t make the situation any less mortifying. Volk''s thoughts raced as he tried to regain his composure. He knew the logic behind the tribe''s insistence on breeding¡ªit was a matter of survival. If the tribe were attacked again¡ªwhich happens occasionally¡ªand many were killed or captured, the offspring would ensure that the tribe could repopulate and continue to resist their enemies. But the expectation still pressed heavily on his chest. As Volk continued forward, he noticed a massive adult Orc and an Elf standing ahead of him. The two figures were imposing, their presence commanding respect. They were clearly waiting for him and Solluha''r, and as Volk approached, they both stared in awe at Solluha''r''s enlarged form. "Look at her size!" the Orc exclaimed, his voice a deep rumble. His eyes were wide with astonishment as he took in Solluha''r''s transformed body. "I''ve never seen a female this massive before!" He turned to Volk, his gaze filled with admiration. "You must be an incredibly talented, young one! To have a partner become this big after your union¡­ AaaHhh the tribe will benefit greatly from your union!" Sollahur''s face grew even redder, and she squirmed in Volk''s arms, trying to hide herself from their scrutinizing eyes. The compliments, though well-meaning, only added to her embarrassment. The old Orc suddenly looked up at the sky, raising his arms dramatically. "Praise the Orc Lord!" he bellowed, his voice carrying through the forest. "This must be a sign! With a union like this, we will become a powerhouse! We will rise up against our oppressors and reclaim our land!" The Elf beside him, clearly his partner, giggled softly. "You can pray later, old one," she teased, nudging the Orc playfully. "For now, let''s focus on leading these two younglings to their new quarters." Volk felt a surge of gratitude toward the Elf for redirecting the attention away from him and Solluha''r. The chanting in the background continued¡ª"Breed! Breed! Breed! Breed!"¡ªbut it seemed more distant now as the Elf began to lead them away. As they walked, the Elf explained the structure of the tribe. "There are four main areas in our tribe," she began, her voice calm and melodic. "Where you came from was the Cubling Area. That''s where the young cubs and baby ones are reared. It''s heavily guarded by some of our strongest warriors to ensure their safety." Volk nodded, taking in the information. He had noticed the guards earlier but hadn''t paid them much attention, his mind too focused on Solluha''r. "Now," the Elf continued, "we''re heading to the Wilding Area. It''s where you''ll be living from now on. This area is a bit more¡­ free. You''ll have the opportunity to breed, of course, but there are also other activities you can take part in, like the Catacomb Excavation Mission. That one''s quite popular, though it''s not without its risks." She paused, giving them a knowing look. "The tribe rewards those who contribute, so if you''re looking to prove yourself, that''s one way to do it." As they walked, Volk noticed Solluha''r''s face growing even redder, her embarrassment almost palpable. She tried to hide herself again, but this time, using her long, green, shining silver hair to shield her face from view. Volk''s heart went out to her; this was all so overwhelming, and he could only imagine how she must be feeling. "The other two areas," the Elf said, "you''ll learn about them in time. But for now, just focus on settling in and¡­ enjoying yourselves." Sollahur''s face turned crimson at the Elf''s words, and she buried her face even deeper into Volk''s chest. He could feel her body trembling slightly, whether from exhaustion or embarrassment, he wasn''t sure. Finally, they arrived at a small tower, nestled among the trees. The Elf gestured to it with a flourish. "This will be your new home," she explained. "It''s sturdy, built of brick and stone, and even the air can''t penetrate it. It''s designed for privacy and protection." She led them to the entrance. "It''s like a two-story house. The first floor is where you can cook and take care of daily tasks. The second floor¡­ well, that''s where you''ll be you know-" Volk stared at the tower, speechless. But he nodded absently as the Elf continued her explanation, but his mind was elsewhere, spinning with the weight of it all. Finally, the Elf and the old Orc bid them farewell, leaving them alone at the entrance to their new quarters. Solluha''r was still trembling in his arms, her face hidden. Volk took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew what was expected of him, of them both. But that didn''t make it any easier. "Breed! Breed! Breed! Breed!" The distant chants still echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of the path that lay before them. With one last deep breath, Volk pushed open the door to the tower and stepped inside, carrying Solluha''r with him. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of magical lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. The first floor was simple, with a small kitchen area and a few chairs. But Volk''s eyes were drawn upward, to the stairs that led to the second floor¡ªthe you-know-uhrm floor. He felt Solluha''r''s grip tighten on him as they ascended the stairs. Her embarrassment was almost overwhelming, but Volk knew he had to stay strong, for both their sakes. This girl''s shit is heavy. Both of them might fall down if he''s not careful. When they reached the top, Volk paused at the doorway, his hand resting on the handle. He looked down at Solluha''r, her face still buried in his chest. "Are you ready?" he asked softly. Sollahur didn''t respond at first, but then she nodded slightly, with her hair brushing against his skin. Volk nodded in return. Chapter 13 - 13: Brute Mending Practice Volk felt the warmth of Solluha''r''s skin against his own as he gently placed her on the bed, her slight nod still fresh in his mind. And he stood there for a moment, just watching her as she lay still, eyes averted, lost in thoughts he could only guess at. The flickering light from a nearby lantern cast shadows that danced across her face, highlighting the soft curves of her features. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out from downstairs, cutting through the quiet. Volk''s brow furrowed as he turned toward the door. The voice was unmistakable¡ªone of the elder elves, her tone carrying an air of urgency that was hard to ignore. He glanced back at Solluha''r, who remained silent and motionless on the bed, before reluctantly stepping away. "I''ll be back," he muttered, more to himself than to her, and left the room. Descending the creaky wooden stairs, Volk''s eyes landed on the elf standing at the entrance, holding a rolled-up scroll in her hand. She was an older figure, her eyes sharp with wisdom earned from countless battles and strategies. Her silver hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her expression was one of focused intent. Without a word, she tossed the scroll to Volk, who caught it instinctively, though his thoughts were still upstairs with Solluha''r. "Read what''s inside first," she said, her voice firm. "Before you exchange love liquids, you need to know this." With that, she turned and left as abruptly as she had come, leaving Volk alone in the dimly lit room. Volk looked down at the scroll, his mind racing. The material felt rough in his hands, the animal skin it was made from rough and worn. As he unfurled it, the symbols and runes on the page seemed to glow faintly, and to his surprise, he could understand them with ease. The instructions were clear¡ªwhile consummating the union, he was to channel Mana into the essential parts of his body. Doing so would not only strengthen him but also extend the duration and potency of his Grum-gar form, a state of being that allowed him to tap into the primal strength of his ancestors. Volk''s heart pounded with excitement as he read on, each word fueling a growing determination within him. The concept was simple, yet the implications were profound. This wasn''t just about physical strength; it was about forging a bond that would elevate both him and Solluha''r to new heights of power. He felt a surge of energy course through him as he committed the steps to memory, practicing the mental exercises needed to direct the Mana flow as described. Satisfied that he had absorbed the knowledge, Volk carefully rolled the scroll back up and set it aside. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the anticipation thrumming through his veins, and then climbed the stairs back to where Solluha''r was waiting. The moment he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat. Solluha''r was no longer lying down; she was sitting upright on the bed, her body framed by the soft glow of the lantern. Her green hair, which cascaded down her back like a waterfall of emerald silk, shimmered in the light. She wore only the barest of undergarments now, flimsy pieces of fabric that did little to cover her well-toned, statuesque figure. Her skin was the color of fresh snow, smooth and flawless, with a slight sheen that hinted at the power lying dormant beneath. Her abs, defined yet feminine, moved slightly with each breath she took, and her long legs, toned and powerful, were positioned in a way that seemed almost too deliberate. Volk''s eyes roamed over her body, taking in every inch of her as she tried¡ªand failed¡ªto maintain an air of seduction. There was an awkwardness in her posture, a hesitance in the way she looked at him, it was obvious with her face flushed with embarrassment. It was clear she was trying to play the part, but her nervousness only added to her charm, making her look even more alluring in his eyes. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A serious expression crossed Volk''s face as he stepped closer to her, his mind spinning. Wasn''t she in love with Luk''Tar? Why was she trying to seduce him now? The question began to enter his head, and he felt like he couldn''t ignore the strange mix of emotions swirling within him¡ªanger, curiosity, and something else he couldn''t quite name. Without warning, Volk reached out, his fingers brushing against her thigh. The contact was electric, and Solluha''r flinched, her eyes widening in surprise. Volk continued, focusing on her body, sliding his hand slowly up her body, tracing a path from her thigh to her stomach, then to her chest, and up to her neck. His touch was light, almost teasing, yet there was a deliberate intent behind it, as if he was searching for something within her. As his fingers finally reached her face, Solluha''r flinched again, her eyes darting away from his intense gaze. Volk leaned in closer, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. "Are you sure you''re just doing this for the tribe?" he asked, his breath hot against her skin. "Not because you like me? Not because you''re afraid to admit it?" Solluha''r''s face flushed an even deeper shade of red, her body trembling slightly under his touch. She couldn''t bring herself to meet his eyes, instead staring off to the side, her embarrassment clear. "I''m just doing this for the tribe," she whispered, her voice barely audible. A sly smile tugged at the corners of Volk''s mouth. "Really?" he teased, his tone mocking. "For the tribe? Not because you''d feel guilty if you admitted you liked it?" Her blush deepened, and she shook her head vehemently. "No," she insisted, though her voice wavered. "It''s¡­ it''s for the tribe. That''s all." Volk studied her for a moment, his gaze piercing as if trying to see through her words and into her soul. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he nodded slowly. "If you say so," he murmured, his voice softening. He reached out and gently held her head in his hands, pulling her closer until their foreheads touched. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, caught in a strange, unspoken understanding. Despite the circumstances, despite the uncertainty and the lingering doubts, there was a connection between them¡ªa bond that went beyond words or intentions. Whether it was born of duty, fate, or something more, Volk couldn''t tell. But he could feel it, as real and as undeniable as the heartbeat in his chest. Volk didn''t hesitate. With a fire burning in his eyes, he lunged toward Solluha''r, his hands gripping her with a hunger that only grew stronger with each passing moment. His touch was no longer gentle but urgent, driven by a deep, unyielding desire. Solluha''r gasped, her body responding instinctively to his every movement as he claimed her with a ferocity that left no room for her to resist. Soon, the room was soon filled with the sounds of their passion¡ªbreathless gasps, desperate moans, and the rhythmic cadence of their bodies moving together in a wild, unrestrained dance. The bed creaked and groaned beneath them, the wooden frame straining under the intensity of their lovemaking. Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in each other, and the world outside seemed to slowly fading until nothing else existed but the two of them, entwined in a frenzy of heat and desire. After what felt like hours, their movements began to slow. Volk, panting heavily, suddenly froze, a flicker of shock crossed his face. He pulled back slightly, with his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Solluha''r, with her body still trembling from the aftershocks of their union, looked up at him with eyes glazed over in a lustful haze. "What''s wrong?" she asked, her voice breathy, almost pleading, as if she couldn''t bear to be apart from him even for a second. Volk''s gaze sharpened as his mind cleared. He cursed under his breath as he remembered the Mana Bonding Scroll. He hadn''t used it. The thought made him pause, and he could see the shift in Solluha''r''s expression as well. Her eyes widened, the realization dawning on her too. "You didn''t-" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and fear. She didn''t even finish when Volk shook his head, a determined look crossing his face. "No," he said firmly, "I didn''t." Solluha''r''s breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard, she could feel her throat dry. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead as the enormity of what he was saying sank in. "Again?" she whispered, with a barely audible voice. "Yes," Volk replied without hesitation, his tone leaving no room for argument. He could see the apprehension in her eyes, the uncertainty mixed with lingering desire. But there was no backing down now¡ªat least not for him. Sollahur nodded slowly, her gaze locked on his. She was scared, yes, but there was also a strange sense of determination in her eyes, a willingness to go through with this, whatever the cost. She braced herself, her body tensing as Volk moved closer again, her womanhood felt his presence overwhelming, making her body heat up once again. Chapter 14 - 14: MagDurotan 2nd stage As the night deepened, the room was filled with a profound stillness, broken only by the soft, labored breaths of Solluha''r. Volk''s initial euphoria began to wane as he realized something was amiss. He couldn''t feel the flow of Mana in his body anymore. The sensation of energy that had surged through him during their union had vanished entirely, leaving him cold and empty. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn''t summon even a spark of the power he had felt before. His eyes shifted to Solluha''r, who lay beside him. Her once radiant skin now looked pale and drained, her chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. Her emerald green hair, once vibrant and flowing like a river of silk, now seemed dull and lifeless. The sight filled Volk with dread. "What''s going on?" he asked, his voice thick with worry. He gently shook her, hoping for a sign of life, but she remained limp, her energy seemingly depleted. A thousand thoughts raced through Volk''s mind, and a deep sense of panic began to set in. Don''t tell me¡­ she couldn''t handle the radiation from me? He cursed himself silently. I shouldn''t have pushed her so hard and should have known that my radiation might cause her harm even though she is the Nuclear Reactor Vessel. He compared Solluha''r''s body to how she looked before¡ªvital, energetic, and full of life¡ªand now she was a shadow of that. She wasn''t just tired; she was completely spent. Her body had weakened to the point where it seemed as though she might never recover. His heart pounded in his chest, along with his breath quickening. He didn''t know what to do. He had never felt this kind of helplessness before. He promised he would always be strong, always seem in control, but now, looking at Solluha''r''s frail form, he felt powerless. Again and again and again. Suddenly, Solluha''r stirred. Her hand, though weak, reached out and touched his face, Volk could feel her palm warm against his skin. Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a faint smile. "Don''t worry about me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "After three months of rest, we can do this again. But for now, I can''t¡­ I don''t have any more Mana to give you. I just need a little rest." Volk felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was tempered by doubt. "Are you sure?" he asked, still uncertain. Solluha''r giggled softly, her voice a little stronger now. "Yes, I''m sure," she reassured him. She then wrapped her arms around him weakly, pulling him close. Despite her weakness, she tried to comfort him, and Volk felt a little of his worry melt away. Morning came, and Volk woke to find Solluha''r still sleeping. Her breathing was even, her face peaceful. She looked better than she had the night before, and Volk felt some of his fears ease. Perhaps what she had said was true¡ªmaybe she just needed time to recover. Just as he began to relax, a loud shout echoed from outside. "Kaz''rogal!" The word rang through their bricked wall, and Volk''s heart skipped a beat. He recognized that name¡ªit meant "Mightiest Natural Ability" in the language of his people. Confused, Volk quickly dressed and hurried downstairs. Outside, he was greeted by the sight of a large, muscular orc with wild, white hair standing at the entrance. The old orc studied him with a piercing gaze, sizing him up. "Looks like you are really our tribe''s Kaz''rogal this year, just like Thrand''or said," the orc said with a hint of amusement in his voice. He nodded approvingly. "You''ve already reached the second stage of Mag''Durotan in just one night. That''s impressive. Most of us can''t even reach the first stage after the first night with our lady." Volk blinked in surprise. Second stage? He hadn''t even realized he had advanced. His confusion must have shown on his face because the old orc chuckled and stepped forward. "My name is Gozorm''al," the white-haired orc continued, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience. "Welcome to the Wildling Camp. I am your elder." Gozorm''al reached out and placed a finger on Volk''s chest. For a moment, nothing happened, but then¡ªThum!¡ªVolk felt a surge of warm, heated blood that pulse from his chest spreading all over his body, like a deep, resonant power that seemed to reverberate in his bones. "That''s how you know how strong you are," Gozorm''al said, pulling back his hand with a satisfied grunt. He then turned and motioned for Volk to follow. "Come, there''s much to discuss. I will tell you what your responsibilities are as a warrior of our tribe." Volk hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the tower where Solluha''r slept. She seemed stable for now, and he knew he needed to understand what was happening to him. With a nod, he followed old man Gozorm''al, determined to learn what he needed to protect himself¡ªand her. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. As they walked through the camp, Volk''s mind raced with questions. What did it mean to be a Kaz''rogal? How had he advanced so quickly? And more importantly, what did that mean for Solluha''r, who had given so much of herself to him? Before he could ask, a glowing system screen appeared in front of him, hovering in mid-air: | Name: Volk Mog''ger | Status: Hornless Orc Tribe Kaz''rogal (Current Year) | Age: 18 | Level: Second Stage Mag''Durotan | Passive Ability: Radioactive Form (Duration: Five Minutes) | Volk was confused as he followed Gozorm''al through the camp. The revelation that he had advanced to the Second Stage Mag''Durotan overnight was shocking enough, but what truly baffled him the most was the increase in his Radioactive Form''s duration. Five minutes? Last time he checked, it was only two minutes. How could it have increased so drastically? Could it be because of Solluha''r? he wondered. The connection between them had clearly amplified his power, but to this extent? It seemed almost unbelievable. He couldn''t help but feel a massive excitement to it. If simply being with her could make him this strong, what would happen if they repeated the process? Would he continue to grow in power? And more importantly, what would that mean for her? As these thoughts churned in his mind, his gaze returned to the glowing screen floating in front of him. The sight of the five-minutes duration on his Radioactive Form nearly made his heart stop again. Don''t tell me¡­ he thought. Does that mean if I really level up my rank as an Orc Warrior, the duration of my Radioactive Form will increase too? It seems Volk needed to know if there was a way to help her recover faster, but he was hoping there was a way to avoid putting her through that again. He couldn''t just stand by and wait for months while she lay weakened. Respectfully, Volk approached Gozorm''al, his voice earnest and laced with concern. "Elder Gozorm''al, how can I help my partner recover? Is there any way to shorten the three-month wait?" The old orc paused, turning to face Volk with a knowing grin. He let out a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the trees, drawing the attention of a few nearby warriors. "Ah, you''re like the others," Gozorm''al said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Impatient, just like I was when I was young." Volk felt his cheeks flush slightly, but he held his ground, determined to find an answer. Gozorm''al''s laughter slowly subsided, and he regarded Volk with a more serious expression. "To help your lover recover," Gozorm''al began, "you must indeed wait for the three months to pass. Her body needs time to replenish the Mana she expended. It is the natural way, and there is wisdom in patience." Volk''s heart sank at the thought of waiting that long, but he nodded, preparing to accept the elder''s words. However, Gozorm''al suddenly paused, a glint of something else in his eye. "Or¡­" Gozorm''al continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, "you could seek out Magical Crystals. These crystals contain immense amounts of Mana. If your partner consumes them, she could recover her energy much faster¡ªperhaps even in a matter of weeks instead of months." Volk''s eyes widened in surprise. "Magical Crystals?" he echoed, feeling a surge of hope. But almost as quickly, his excitement was dampened by Gozorm''al''s next words. "But," the elder cautioned, "you are not allowed to leave the tribe''s boundaries or enter the catacombs yet. You''re not ready. You need to prove yourself with contributions to the tribe and grow stronger before you can venture into the dangerous areas where these crystals are found." Volk clenched his fists in frustration, his earlier hope slipping away. He had never been good at waiting, especially when someone he cared about was suffering. But he just nodded. Gozorm''al seemed to sense Volk''s inner thoughgs inside. With a stern expression, he reached to his side and drew out a weapon¡ªa long, curved blade with intricate designs carved into its hilt. The old orc flipped the weapon in his hand before tossing it at Volk''s feet. The blade landed in the grass with a solid *thunk*, the metal gleaming in the sunlight. "Your training starts here," Gozorm''al declared, his voice carrying the weight of command. "If you wish to be strong enough to protect those you care about, get a crystal outside the tribe or enter a catacomb, you must first learn to master yourself and your power. Only then will you be ready to seek out what you desire." Volk stared down at the weapon below him. He had come here seeking answers, and in a way, he had found them. But they weren''t the answers he had hoped for. Even still, witb a deep breath, he bent down and picked up the blade. Its weight was comforting in his hand, a reminder of the strength he would need to wield. He looked up at Gozorm''al, with an uknown determination hardening in his gaze. "I''m ready," Volk said, his voice steady. Gozorm''al nodded approvingly, making his lips curles nto a small smile. "Good. Let''s see if you have what it takes to be the Kaz''rogal we need." Chapter 15 - 15: Volk vs Gozormal 1/2 The training grounds were alive with the rhythmic clash of steel, echoing through the air like a drumbeat. Clang! Clang! Clang! The sounds of metal striking metal filled the clearing as Volk sparred with Gozorm''al under the watchful eyes of other orcs. Sweat dripped from Volk''s brow, his chest heaving with each labored breath. His muscles ached, burning with the strain of the relentless training. No matter how hard he tried, Gozorm''al''s defense was impenetrable. Each strike, each lunge, was effortlessly parried or deflected by the elder orc. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. On the sidelines, a group of orcs watched the bout intently, their rough voices mixing with the sounds of battle. "Who''s Gozorm''al torturing this time?" one of them asked, a smirk on his face as he leaned on his battle-axe. Another orc, this one with a broad scar running across his chest, squinted at the two combatants. "I heard it''s the Kaz''rogal of this year," he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity. "They say his female is the biggest one anyone''s seen since the last symbiotic union celebration." The first orc raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "The Kaz''rogal? This year''s? Isn''t he supposed to be some labor orc?" "Aye," a third orc chimed in, joining the conversation. "Born from Labor Orcs, they say. Never thought I''d see the day a laborer was named Kaz''rogal. It''s said his female''s size is a sign¡ªit might be the biggest since our ancestors!" The group fell into a thoughtful silence, their eyes fixed on Volk and Gozorm''al. There was an undercurrent of disbelief among them. A labor orc, no less, wielding the title of Kaz''rogal was something none of them had expected. The more they watched, the more curious they became, though none of them dared to voice their skepticism outright. Gozorm''al, for his part, seemed to be enjoying himself. He chuckled every time he deflected one of Volk''s attacks, responding to the shouts from the sidelines with a carefree wave of his hand. "Don''t be too hard on the kid!" one of the orcs called out, his voice tinged with amusement. Another orc grinned, "Hey, Kaz''rogal! Gonna let an old orc bully you like that?" he jeered, earning a ripple of laughter from the others. "He''s a labor orc!" another shouted. "What do you expect? Swingin'' a pickaxe ain''t the same as swingin'' a sword!" Volk gritted his teeth, feeling the frustration mount with each taunt. Every attempt he made to strike Gozorm''al was met with a quick, precise counter, leaving him increasingly battered and bruised. His body screamed in protest, but the pain only fueled his desire to penetrate and hurt the old man and prove them wrong. What should I do? What should I do? he muttered under his breath, trying to find a way through Gozorm''al''s seemingly unbreakable defense. Gozorm''al, noticing Volk''s growing frustration, couldn''t resist mocking him further. "Are you really the Kaz''rogal?" he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The weakest Kaz''rogal of them all, it seems! Others at least managed to land a hit!" Volk''s anger flared at the insult, but he forced himself to stay focused. He wasn''t going to let the old orc''s words rattle him, not when so much was at stake. He needed to think, to find an opening, a weakness he could exploit. As he continued to study Gozorm''al, something clicked in Volk''s mind. The elder orc was much larger than him, towering over him with a physique that seemed almost invincible. But with size came certain¡­vulnerabilities. His eyes traveled downward, assessing Gozorm''al''s stance, and a plan began to form in his mind. Gozorm''al, seeing Volk hesitate, pointed his sword at him, a confident smirk on his lips. "Is that all you''ve got, Kaz''rogal?" he challenged. "You can change into your Grum-gar form if you want. I won''t hold it against you." Volk didn''t respond. His mind was trying to study the old Orc, calculating his next move. He could feel the eyes of the watching orcs on him, their expectations hanging in the air like a thick fog. But he ignored them, focusing solely on Gozorm''al and the opportunity that lay before him. With a sudden burst of energy, Volk drove his sword into the earth, sending a cloud of dirt flying up into the air. Thum! The dirt sprayed everywhere, and Gozorm''al instinctively raised his arm to shield his eyes from the attack. But before Gozorm''al could fully recover, Volk was already moving. He dropped to the ground, sliding beneath Gozorm''al''s guard in a blur of motion. Gozorm''al''s eyes widened in surprise as Volk closed in on his target¡ªhis little brother between his massive thighs. With all the strength he could muster, Volk swung his sword upward. Clang! That part was armored but the impact was loud, as if the sound of metal striking metal resonating through the training grounds. It has a metal shield but it was a direct hit, right where Volk had aimed. The entire training ground fell silent. The orcs who had been laughing and jeering moments before now started in stunned disbelief, their eyes wide with shock. Gozorm''al himself was frozen, his expression a mixture of pain, shock, and grudging admiration. For a moment, nobody moved. The only sound was the faint rustle of the wind through the trees. Then, as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in, the silence was shattered by a collective gasp from the crowd. One of the orcs on the sidelines broke the tension with a loud, incredulous laugh. "Did you see that? The kid actually did it!" Another orc doubled over, clutching his stomach as he laughed. "Right in the little Gozorm''al! Hahahhaha!" Another one made a remark while clutching his stomach, "Even if it''s protected by armor, it must have hurt a lot! Haha! Haha! Haha!" Gozorm''al, still reeling from the unexpected attack, slowly straightened up, his face a mix of pain and grudging respect. He let out a pained grunt, shaking his head as he looked down at Volk, who was now on his feet, breathing heavily, but with a look of grim satisfaction on his face. "Well," Gozorm''al said, his voice strained but amused. "You''ve got guts, kid. I''ll give you that." Volk, still panting from the exertion, met Gozorm''al''s gaze with a steady look. "You said to use whatever means necessary," he replied, his voice hoarse but defiant. The other orcs, still in varying states of shock and amusement, began to cheer and shout, their earlier jests forgotten in the wake of Volk''s unexpected victory. "Looks like we''ve got a real Kaz''rogal here!" one of them shouted, slapping another orc on the back. "Maybe there''s more to this labor orc than we thought!" another called out, grinning broadly. Volk could hardly believe it himself. He had done it. He had finally landed a hit on Gozorm''al, and in the most unexpected way possible. As the realization settled in, he felt a surge of pride and determination. He had a long way to go, but this was the first step toward proving himself, not just as the Kaz''rogal, but as a true warrior of the tribe. Gozorm''al, still rubbing his sore spot, gave Volk a nod of approval. "Alright, Kaz''rogal," he said, his tone more respectful now. "Let''s see what else you''ve got." Chapter 16 - 16: Volk vs Gozormal 2/2 The clamor of the training ground reached a fever pitch as Volk and Gozorm''al squared off once more. The elder orc''s demeanor had shifted, the playful mockery replaced with a stern, unyielding focus. His movements were no longer leisurely or taunting; every swing of his sword now carried the weight of years of experience and raw power. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The air hummed with tension, whoosh! as Gozorm''al''s blade cut through the air, barely missing Volk by a hair''s breadth. Thud! Volk dodged, feeling the impact of the missed strike vibrate through the ground beneath his feet. The watching orcs, seeing the change in Gozorm''al''s approach, began to shout out taunts, their voices loud and boisterous. "Oi, Gozorm''al! Did the kid hurt you where it counts?!" one of them yelled, a wide grin splitting his face. "You look like you''re actually trying now, old man!" Another orc joined in, slapping his knee in laughter. "Take it easy, Gozorm''al! You don''t need to lose your temper just because the little Kaz''rogal got one up on you!" "Careful, old orc! We don''t need you pulling a muscle!" another hollered, his voice full of mock concern. "The tribe can''t afford to lose its elder to a duel with a *labor orc*!" "Did that hit between the legs make you remember your youth, old man?!" a fourth orc called out, his laughter ringing through the air. "Maybe Volk should take it easy on you before you keel over!" "Come on, Gozorm''al!" yet another orc bellowed. "Don''t let a little tap down there ruin your day! We know you''re old, but don''t go dying on us from shame!" The crowd''s jibes fueled Gozorm''al''s growing anger, his face darkening with each taunt. His green skin was taking on a reddish hue, a sign of the fury building within him. Volk could see the shift in the elder orc''s posture¡ªhis strikes were harder, faster, each swing aimed with deadly intent. Clang! Clang! Their swords collided with a force that sent shivers up Volk''s arms, the impact of the blows rattling his bones. Despite the increased intensity, Volk felt a thrill of excitement coursing through him. The challenge was exhilarating. Every time he evaded a strike or parried an attack, he felt his confidence grow. Thud! Gozorm''al''s blade crashed into the ground where Volk had just been standing, sending a spray of dirt and debris into the air. Whoosh! Another swing, narrowly avoided, left Volk''s heart pounding in his chest. But Volk''s thoughts were not on survival alone. He realized that if he could master weapon combat, he wouldn''t have to rely on his radioactive form all the time. This was a chance to grow, to become a true warrior, and he was determined to seize it. "Attack me for real, Kaz''rogal!" Gozorm''al''s voice boomed across the training ground, filled with frustration. He was no longer interested in playing games. Volk didn''t hesitate. He repeated the trick that had worked before¡ªdriving his sword into the ground to kick up a cloud of dirt. Thum! The earth erupted in a dusty plume, obscuring Gozorm''al''s vision for a brief moment. Volk slid forward, aiming to strike low once more, but Gozorm''al was ready this time. With a grunt of effort, the old orc jumped back, narrowly avoiding Volk''s sword as it sliced through the air where his legs had been. Swish! The surrounding orcs erupted into cheers, their voices a cacophony of support for Volk. "That''s it, Volk! Show him what a real Kaz''rogal is made of!" one of them shouted, his fist pumping in the air. "He''s got the moves! None of the other Kaz''rogals had the guts to pull a trick like that!" another cheered, his voice full of admiration. "This year''s Kaz''rogal is a real warrior!" "Volk''s making history right here! Who cares if he''s from the labor caste? He''s showing all those other Kaz''rogals up!" a third orc added, his voice loud with pride. "Forget the past! Volk''s the only Kaz''rogal worth remembering!" a fourth orc bellowed, his words met with a roar of agreement from the crowd. The orcs were no longer just watching a duel; they were witnessing something extraordinary¡ªa labor orc proving himself not just as a worthy Kaz''rogal, but as a warrior who could outshine even the best of the tribe. Gozorm''al, however, was far from amused. His earlier irritation had now morphed into full-blown rage. The elder orc''s pride had been wounded, not just by Volk''s earlier strike but by the relentless taunts of his peers. His green skin was flushed, a deep red that spoke of a temper on the edge of exploding. Thud! Thud! His strikes grew heavier, the ground trembling with each blow. He was no longer pulling his punches¡ªhe intended to make Volk pay for the humiliation he had caused. Volk, for his part, was unfazed. Each of Gozorm''al''s attacks was met with a calm, calculated response. Clang! Clang! He deflected the blows with precision, his movements smooth and controlled. He could see the anger clouding Gozorm''al''s judgment, making his attacks more predictable, and Volk used this to his advantage. He danced around the elder orc, his steps light and agile, evading each swing with a grace that belied his size. Whoosh! Thud! The more Gozorm''al''s frustration grew, the more Volk seemed to thrive. He could feel the power of the fight coursing through him, sharpening his instincts and heightening his senses. And in the back of his mind, he knew that even if things went south, his Radioactive Form would kick in automatically, a safeguard against any real danger. This knowledge emboldened him, giving him the confidence to push Gozorm''al further. But as the fight wore on, the crowd began to notice the change in Gozorm''al. The elder orc''s usual composure was gone, replaced by a wild, almost desperate fury. His swings were erratic, his focus solely on landing a hit on Volk rather than fighting with his usual skill. The taunts from the crowd had done their job¡ªGozorm''al was losing control. "Uh-oh, the old man''s really losing it," one of the orcs muttered, the laughter in his voice fading. "Looks like Volk got under his skin for real," another added, his tone more cautious now. "Watch out, Volk! Gozorm''al''s gonna snap!" a third orc warned, his eyes wide with concern. The realization spread quickly among the onlookers. What had started as a routine sparring match had turned into something far more dangerous. Gozorm''al, the elder orc who had always been a pillar of strength and discipline, was on the verge of losing himself to his anger. But Volk, ever sharp, noticed this as well. He wasn''t just fighting a powerful orc now; he was fighting an orc on the edge, and that made him all the more dangerous. Yet Volk didn''t flinch. He knew he had to stay calm, to use Gozorm''al''s anger against him, and to prove once and for all that he was worthy of the title Kaz''rogal. As Gozorm''al raised his sword for another powerful swing, Volk made his move. Chapter 17 - 17: Stoppage As Volk prepared to launch his next attack, with his muscles tensed and eyes locked on Gozorm''al, the tension in the air was shattered by the sudden arrival of an unknown orc. Thud! A massive hand landed on Volk''s shoulder, pulling him back just as he was about to spring forward. "Hold up, kid!" the orc barked, his voice booming over the clamor of the training ground. Before Volk could respond, another orc stepped in, and then another, until several burly figures stood between him and the enraged Gozorm''al. The air hummed with tension as the crowd of orcs, who had moments ago been cheering and taunting, now shifted their tone. "Old man, calm yourself down!" one of the orcs called out, his voice a mix of amusement and caution. "You''re only supposed to strengthen to the fourth stage of Mag''Durotan! No need to go further!" "Yeah, Gozorm''al!" another orc added, laughing. "You''re training a young orc, not trying to kill him!" "Take it easy, old man!" a third voice chimed in, this one tinged with a teasing edge. "We know you''re strong, but there''s no need to show off by breaking the kid in half!" The orcs surrounding Gozorm''al continued to voice their playful admonishments, each one trying to diffuse the old orc''s anger with light-hearted jests. Despite their happy tones, it was clear that they were trying to prevent the situation from escalating further. Gozorm''al''s eyes still blazed with fury, but the chorus of voices seemed to be getting through to him. Thud! Thud! He finally lowered his weapon, his heavy breathing slowly beginning to calm, though the tension in his massive frame remained palpable. Meanwhile, another orc¡ªa warrior with a rugged, scarred face¡ªstepped up to Volk and pulled him away from the scene, laughing heartily. Ha! Ha! Ha! The sound was deep and booming, echoing across the training ground. "You really are something, kid!" the orc said, clapping Volk on the back with enough force to make him stagger. "Managed to piss off old man Gozorm''al that much, huh? No one''s ever done that before! You''re an animal!" Volk, still catching his breath and trying to process what had just happened, looked up at the orc in surprise. "But I think from their words, I almost got myself killed¡­" he muttered, the reality of how close he''d come to serious harm starting to sink in. The orc grinned, his sharp tusks gleaming in the light. "You almost did, alright!" he said, his tone a mix of admiration and amusement. "That old man was a peak stage of Brute Mending, one of the strongest powerhouses in this tribe. And his Grum-gar? It''s on the third level, which means his aura together with his physique at peak can be strengthened to a twenty-six stage Mag''Durotan powerhouse level! You''re lucky you didn''t get your head knocked clean off!" Volk''s eyes widened in shock. According to the memories of the Orc he had occupied, their peak physical prowess was called tenth stage Mag''Durotan. However, when they took on the mysterious "Grum-gar" transformation, their capabilities would undergo a complicated transformation. Rather than a direct increase from the Mag''Durotan''s ten, the Grum-gar form seemed to start from a base of two - half the original peak. But this base held untapped potential. By multiplying it by two, again and again, a powerful progression unfolded. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. First, two became four. Then four multiplied by two resulted in eight. Doubling eight yielded sixteen. Yet, this was not the end of the transformation. The Orc''s original Mag''Durotan form of ten was then added to the Grum-gar''s culminating sixteen, resulting in a staggering final tally of twenty-six. He knew Grum-gar form was strong, but he hadn''t realized just how powerful an orc would become who can turn into this. "What''s going to happen to me now?" he asked, a note of uncertainty creeping into his voice. The orc who had pulled him away laughed again, this time more softly. "Don''t worry, kid. He can''t turn into his fifth form freely, he was on decline due to old age and because of the hazardous magic particles on his body, maybe he can only morph his Grum-far form twice now. Plus, once the old man calms down, instead of making things harder for you, he''ll probably reward you." Seeing the disbelief on Volk''s face, the orc continued, "It''s true! It means you, Kaz''rogal, are strong. Strong enough to piss him off in combat. He might even give you something valuable." Volk raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "For real?" The orc nodded emphatically. "For real! He said it himself¡ªif a younger orc can manage to anger him during a competency test, it means the tribe is elevating, getting stronger. And he rewards anyone who can do that. That''s why everyone was so happy to see him angry. They know it means you''ve got potential." Volk was speechless. Orcs were that unpredictable? The body he occupied had grown up among them, but this was a side of his people he had never fully understood. It was both baffling and¡­ exhilarating. The respect that came from earning the ire of such a powerful elder¡ªit was more than he had ever expected. The orc grinned at Volk''s reaction. "Name''s Orzuk, by the way," he said, extending a hand. "Son of Grogthar, the tribe''s chief weapon master." His tone was proud but friendly, and Volk could see that this orc was someone of importance in the tribe. Volk grasped Orzuk''s hand firmly, his own grip still a bit shaky from the intense encounter. "Nice to meet you, Orzuk. I''m Volk Mog''ger¡­ a laborer," he said, the last part coming out almost automatically. Orzuk laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made the other orcs nearby turn to see what was so amusing. "A laborer, huh? Not anymore, Volk! You''re the Kaz''rogal of this year! You should be proud of that. Only a few orcs in our tribe ever bear that title, and you''re one of them so you should stand proud. Add it to your name, Volk Mog''ger, the Kaz''rogal of this year!" Volk nodded, the weight of his new role settling on his shoulders. It was still strange to him, being seen as more than just a laborer, but he could feel the pride swelling in his chest at Orzuk''s words. He was Kaz''rogal, and it''s just starting to settle in his head now. That meant something¡ªsomething big. Before Volk could say anything more, Orzuk reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a small, glittering crystal. It shimmered with a faint, otherworldly light, catching Volk''s eye immediately. "Here," Orzuk said, handing the crystal to Volk. "You might need this. It''s a Mana Crystal. Use it wisely." Volk stared at the crystal, feeling the energy emanating from it. He had heard of these before¡ªrare and powerful, capable of restoring Mana to those who needed it. It was exactly what Solluha''r needed to recover faster, to regain her strength so they could¡­ No, he couldn''t let his thoughts drift there right now. He had to focus. "Thank you," Volk said, his voice sincere. He looked up at Orzuk, seeing a hint of approval in the older orc''s eyes. Just as Volk was about to pocket the crystal, he noticed Orzuk glancing back at him with a curious expression. "Don''t tell me you''re thinking of using that on your partner?" Orzuk''s tone was incredulous, and for a moment, Volk didn''t know how to respond. "Isn''t that normal?" Volk finally managed to say, his voice uncertain. In his limited experience within the tribe, it seemed like everything revolved around Mana and the strengthening of bonds through it. Why wouldn''t he use it on Solluha''r? Orzuk''s response was immediate and filled with laughter. "Ha! Ha! Ha! No, no, no!" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as his laughter subsided. "Seriously though, that Mana Crystal in your hand is empty. It''s meant for Wildling Mag''Durotan like you to use during tasks inside the clan. It''s not for anything special like entering catacombs or enhancing your partner." Volk blinked, absorbing the information. "Then¡­ what do I do with it?" Chapter 18 - 18: Butcher Meat Shop Orzuk smiled, though his expression was now more serious. "You''ll need to help out around the clan, contribute to the tribe. It''s part of your responsibility as Kaz''rogal. You might assist with weaponry, help with food distribution, or even help build towers for the elves. You can choose where you want to contribute¡ªthat''s your reward as Kaz''rogal. But remember, even though you have the title, your contribution needs to be consistent. The crystal records it all. If you get lazy, you won''t be given the same amount of Magic Crystal as others who are contributing." Volk was speechless. This was more complex than he had imagined. The title of Kaz''rogal came with privileges, but it also came with responsibilities that he hadn''t considered. Before he could ask more questions, Orzuk clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Volk. Don''t let that old man get to you," he said with a grin before turning and walking away, leaving Volk standing alone in the bustling area outside the training ground. As Orzuk''s figure disappeared into the crowd, Volk''s gaze shifted around the camp. This wasn''t the typical orc settlement he had expected. Instead of tents and crude huts, the tribe lived in solid houses made of brick, some towering high above the ground, while others were nestled closely together, forming narrow alleyways. Some parts of the camp were clean and orderly, with well-maintained roads and tidy homes, while others were dirty, with mud and refuse littering the streets. Towers loomed in the distance, their stone faces weathered by time, and Volk could see orcs moving about on them, standing watch or maintaining the structure. Volk began walking, taking in the sights and sounds of the camp. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, wood, and something else¡ªsomething metallic and sharp that he couldn''t quite place. His steps led him through a maze of medieval establishments. He passed by a blacksmith''s forge, where the rhythmic clang! clang! of hammer on metal echoed in the air. The blacksmith, a hulking orc with soot-stained green skin, was pounding away at a glowing blade, sparks flying with each strike. Volk considered stopping to help, imagining himself learning the craft, but something pulled him further along. Next, he passed a construction site where orcs were working together to build a new tower. The sound of stone grinding against stone, the creak of wooden beams being lifted into place, and the shouts of orcs coordinating their efforts filled the air. Volk thought about joining in, helping to erect a structure that would stand for generations, but somehow, his body kept walking. As he wandered, he passed by a food distribution area, where orcs were handing out baskets of vegetables and grains. The scene reminded him of how little he had actually eaten since arriving in this world. He thought about the meals he had back on Earth, the simple pleasure of eating, and he felt a pang of nostalgia. But the orcs here didn''t seem to eat much, relying more on Mana for sustenance. This fact only deepened his curiosity. Finally, Volk''s wandering brought him to a meat establishment. The sight made him stop in his tracks. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The building was sturdier than the others, with thick wooden beams and a sign hanging over the door that depicted a slab of meat on a bone. Inside, the air was cooler, the temperature maintained by some kind of enchantment, and the scent of raw meat hung heavy in the air. Thunk! Thunk! The sound of cleavers hitting cutting boards echoed through the space. The walls were lined with hooks from which hung large cuts of meat¡ªslabs of red flesh, some with bone still attached, others neatly trimmed and wrapped in parchment. It was a surprising sight in a tribe that didn''t seem to value eating much. As Volk stood there, taking it all in, an orc wearing a butcher''s apron approached him. The orc was large, even by orc standards, with broad shoulders and a belly that hinted at a life spent indulging in the goods he sold. His skin was a deep green, almost the color of moss, and his tusks were chipped and worn, suggesting a life of hard work. His eyes were sharp, though, glinting with intelligence and curiosity. "Looking to buy some meat?" the butcher asked, his voice rough like gravel. Volk shook his head, still trying to make sense of it all. "No, I¡­ I was just wondering why there''s meat here. I thought orcs didn''t eat much, just vegetables and such." The butcher laughed, a deep, booming sound that filled the small shop. "Ha! You must be new around here, kid. Orcs are omnivores, kid. We love meat, but it''s not easy to come by. These cuts come from the creatures in the forest, but you can''t just eat them raw. They''re saturated with hazardous magic particles, the same kind that''s out there beyond the tribe''s borders." Volk''s curiosity deepened. "Hazardous magic particles? You mean like the kind of magic that''s in the air?" The butcher nodded, wiping his hands on his apron. "Exactly. The forest outside is teeming with it. Everything out there¡ªplants, animals, the very air you breathe¡ªit''s all charged with those hazardous magic particles. It''s dangerous to eat these things without proper preparation. That''s where I come in. I cleanse the meat, making it safe for consumption. It takes time, but it''s worth it for a good meal." Volk was fascinated. The thought of eating meat again, something so familiar from his life on Earth, made his mouth water. But the idea of radioactive properties intrigued him even more. Could his body, altered by this world, handle the radiation? Or could it somehow absorb it, like how he harnessed the Mana in the air? After all, isn''t he a radioactive creature? As the butcher continued to explain the process, Volk''s vision suddenly blurred, and a familiar ding! rang in his ears. A notification appeared in front of his eyes, the words glowing softly in the dim light of the shop: | Ding! | Would you like to use the Radioactive Absorption ability? | Volk stood in the butcher''s shop, his curiosity still piqued by the radioactive properties of the meat hanging around him that he ignored the system screen in front of him. When he turned his attention to it, he saw the reward that was given to him last time but something inside him made him refuse it. He wasn''t here for power¡ªat least not right now. He wanted to understand this world, to learn more about the dangers lurking beyond the safety of the tribe''s borders. "Huh," Volk said, as if musing aloud. "So that''s the danger outside, huh? But¡­ can''t we find places with less of these hazardous magic particles? You know, better places for food?" The butcher, who had been wiping down a cleaver, paused and shook his head slowly. "It ain''t that simple, kid. You don''t get it yet. We''re hunted, see? By the two strongest rulers of this realm. Dark Witches and Red Warlocks. To them, we''re like their favorite prey. Even if we found somewhere without hazardous magic particles, it wouldn''t matter. Those bastards would track us down eventually. The only places they avoid are the ones like this¡ªsaturated with radioactive energy. So, we''ve got no choice but to stay in these dangerous areas. Keeps us hidden, keeps us alive¡­ for a while, at least." Chapter 19 - 19: Radioactive Absorption Volk felt a chill run down his spine. The butcher''s tone was matter-of-fact, almost resigned, as if he''d long since accepted the tribe''s fate. "The other tribes," Volk asked, trying to understand, "the hornless ones scattered across the land¡­ they''re living in radioactive zones too?" The butcher nodded. "You bet. It''s the only way to avoid being hunted down one by one. I''ve seen it happen, kid. I''ve lived it. Back before we moved here, I was part of a smaller tribe. We were picked off like flies." Volk noticed the butcher''s grip tighten on the cleaver as he spoke, his knuckles whitening beneath the green of his skin. The old orc took a deep breath, as if bracing himself, and then began to recount his story. "Back then, we lived in a place far from here. The land was fertile, the air was clean¡ªno hazardous magic particles, nothing like that. It was perfect¡­ too perfect. We thought we were safe, thought we could live in peace. But then they came. The Dark Witches and Red Warlocks." The butcher''s voice took on a darker, haunted tone as he continued, his words heavy with the weight of old memories. "They came at night, like shadows, creeping into our camp. We didn''t even hear them until it was too late. They slaughtered the elders first, the ones who knew the most about protecting the tribe. They didn''t even bother with spells¡ªthey just cut them down, one by one." Volk could see the pain etched into the butcher''s face, the deep lines that spoke of loss and despair. But the old orc didn''t stop, couldn''t stop. The memories flowed from him like a river, unstoppable and raw. "We tried to fight back, but what could we do? They were too powerful, their magic too strong. We lost so many that night. My brother¡­ my sister¡­ they didn''t make it. I can still hear their screams sometimes, when I close my eyes." The butcher''s hands trembled as he wiped them on his apron, his gaze distant as he relived the horrors of that night. "We had no choice but to run. We scattered, hid in the forests, in caves, anywhere we thought they couldn''t find us. But it didn''t matter. They hunted us down, one by one. Those who were caught¡­ well, you don''t want to know what they did to them." Volk swallowed hard, his throat tight with sympathy. He couldn''t imagine the terror the butcher must have felt, the helplessness of watching his tribe be torn apart. "How did you survive?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The butcher let out a bitter laugh. "Survive? I don''t know if I''d call it that. I just¡­ kept moving, kept hiding. Eventually, I found my way to this place, to the Orc tribe. They took me in, gave me a purpose. But I never forgot what happened. None of us did." The butcher finally looked up at Volk, his eyes hard with resolve. "That''s why we stay in these radioactive zones. It''s dangerous, sure, but it''s safer than the alternative. Out there, beyond the tribe''s borders, it''s a different kind of hell." Volk nodded, finally understanding the tribe''s precarious position. The butcher''s story had shed light on the harsh realities of this world, and the sacrifices the tribe had made to survive. He felt a deep respect for the orcs who had endured so much, who had fought tooth and nail just to keep their people alive. The butcher seemed to shake off his dark memories, his tone softening as he returned to the present. "But enough about that. You''re here to take responsibility, right?" S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk nodded again, more determined than ever. "Yeah. I want to help." The butcher grinned, the tension easing from his face. "Good. There''s not much to do here but chop meat and store it until the hazardous magic particles withers away. It takes time, but it''s necessary." Volk hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I can do that." The butcher clapped him on the shoulder. "Name''s Grak''thor, by the way. Now, let''s get to work. First thing''s first¡ªcarry some of these big slabs inside. But before that, check the meat. Make sure it''s not too fresh, or it''ll be too dangerous to handle." Volk followed Grak''thor into the back of the shop, where the air was even colder, the smell of meat was more pungent. The walls were lined with racks holding various cuts, each one labeled with a strange script that Volk couldn''t read. Grak''thor moved to a table where a large chunk of meat lay, his cleaver at the ready. "Just make sure you don''t use your bare hands, alright? There''s a handle on the side of each slab for a reason." Volk nodded, though he couldn''t help but feel a strange pull as he approached the meat. His hand reached out, and without thinking, he grabbed the slab barehanded. He could feel the weight of it, the coldness seeping into his skin. But he was focused on something else¡ªthe strange tingling sensation that ran up his arm, the familiar buzz of his radioactive absorption ability kicking in. Grak''thor turned to look at Volk just as he was about to start chopping. His eyes widened in shock as he saw what was happening. "No! Don''t use your hands¡ª" His words died in his throat as he saw something even more shocking. Volk didn''t notice at first, but as he lifted the meat, he saw it¡ªa thin stream of energy, like a snake made of green light, slithering from the meat and into his hand. It twisted and coiled, wrapping around his fingers before disappearing into his skin. The sensation was strange, almost ticklish, but not unpleasant. He watched in stunned silence as the hazardous magic particles flowed into him, the meat''s once vibrant color dulling slightly as it lost its radioactive charge. Grak''thor was frozen in place, his mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. "Wh-what¡­ what the¡­ WHAAAAAAAT?" His voice was a mixture of shock and confusion, his eyes glued to the scene before him. He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached out, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "The hazardous magic particles¡­ it''s¡­ it''s going into your hand!" His voice rose in pitch, his disbelief turning into something bordering on panic. "How¡­ How is this even possible? I''ve never seen anything like this in all my years!" Volk didn''t know what to say, his mind racing as he felt the last of the hazardous magic particles seep into his body. He flexed his fingers, feeling a new kind of energy coursing through him, different from the regular Mana he had absorbed before. It was rawer, more potent, and yet it didn''t harm him. If anything, he felt stronger. Grak''thor was still staring at him, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to form words. "WHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATT!!?" The sound echoed through the shop, bouncing off the stone walls and reverberating in the enclosed space. The butcher scrambled over to Volk, grabbing his hands and inspecting them frantically. "Where did it go? The hazardous magic particles¡­ where is it? Are you¡­ are you okay? You should be glowing green or something! How¡­ how are you not dead?" Volk gently pulled his hands away, trying to calm the panicked orc. "Grak''thor, relax. It''s my ability. I can absorb hazardous magic particles. It''s¡­ it''s normal for me." Grak''thor''s eyes widened even further, his face going from shock to something even more extreme. His mouth opened, but no sound came out for a moment as he stared at Volk, processing the revelation. When he finally spoke, his voice was a whisper, almost reverent. "You¡­ you can absorb hazardous magic particles? That''s¡­ that''s¡­" Suddenly, Grak''thor went mute, making the room filled with an awkward, tense quiet silence. His expression was unreadable, a mix of awe, fear, and something else that Volk couldn''t quite place. The silence stretched on, the only sound the faint drip of water from somewhere deeper in the shop. Without warning, Grak''thor turned and hurried into the back room, leaving Volk standing there, unsure of what to do. Chapter 20 - 20: No Shaman, only smash! Volk waited. The shop was eerily quiet, save for the faint creaking of the wooden beams and the soft rustle of hanging meats swaying in the slight draft. Then, without warning, a system notification flashed before his eyes. | Ding! | Nuclear Devastation Strike charging (1/9) | Volk blinked in surprise, his mind racing. "Nine?" he muttered to himself. He hadn''t seen that number before. His thoughts drifted to Solluha''r, the beautiful elven witch he had been with the night before. Could their passionate union have somehow influenced her abilities, making him benefit too? It made sense, in a way. If their bond had strengthened her Mana manipulation, it wasn''t too far-fetched to think it might have boosted his powers as well. "One in nine¡­ does that mean I could actually use this Nuclear Devastation Botanical Clap nine times?" Volk wondered aloud. He still has no idea what this is, he couldn''t get out to try it in secret yet. He was curious¡ªno, he was desperate to know what this Nuclear Devastation Botanical Clap was and the number of nine representing it. What is the Nuclear Devastation Clap even, what more Botanical added to it? What does this number represent? Suddenly, the sound of footsteps broke through his thoughts. Volk looked up just in time to see Grak''thor returning, and his eyes widened in shock. The old orc was carrying a massive horn-like trumpet, its size dwarfing the stout butcher''s frame. Grak''thor''s expression was one of determination, his steps quick and purposeful as he prepared to blow into the instrument. "Wait!" Volk shouted, raising a hand to stop him. Grak''thor halted in his tracks, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He looked at Volk, clearly puzzled by the interruption, as if silently asking, "Why?" Volk took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. "Listen," he began, his tone serious. "I know that shamans are rare, that it''s uncommon for an orc to possess magical abilities. And I also know that if I''m seen as one, if I become a shaman, I''ll be protected. But that''s not what I want, Grak''thor." The butcher''s brows furrowed as Volk continued. "I don''t want to be shielded. I want to be in the thick of the fight. I want to face danger head-on, to grow stronger with every battle. How am I supposed to do that if I''m stuck in a shaman''s hut, kept safe and away from the front lines? That''s not who I am. Sir Grak''thor, I am Grum-gar awakened." Grak''thor stared at him for a long moment, his eyes boring into Volk''s as if trying to read his very soul. Eventually, the silence stretched, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them. Finally, Grak''thor sighed heavily, lowering the trumpet. "Alright, alright," Grak''thor said, his voice a mix of resignation and respect. "You''re a Grum-gar awakener, a special kind of warrior in our tribe. Not every orc has that kind of power, and now I understand why you awakened it. You have the heart of a fighter. If I called everyone out now, I''d be destroying what you are¡ªwhat you were meant to be." Volk felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had been afraid that Grak''thor wouldn''t understand, that the old orc would blow the trumpet anyway, summoning the entire tribe to witness his abilities. But Grak''thor got it. He understood Volk''s desire to remain on the battlefield, to carve his own path through blood and sweat. As Grak''thor turned to go back inside, he paused, a thought seeming to strike his head with an idea. He turned back to Volk, with a curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "Can you remove all the hazardous magic particles inside a body?" Volk hesitated, unsure. "I¡­ I don''t know. I can try." Grak''thor extended his wrist toward Volk, who took it carefully. He focused, trying to activate his ability, but nothing happened. The seconds ticked by, the tension growing until finally, Grak''thor shook his head and pulled his hand away. "Forget it," Grak''thor muttered, more to himself than to Volk. "It only works with the meat." But then, his eyes lit up with a sudden thought. "But if it only works with the meat¡­ does that mean we could enjoy meat without hazardous magic particles? After all, doesn''t that hazard make the taste unfavorable?" Volk''s eyes widened in realization. Grak''thor was right! What if they could actually eat the meat without any of the dangerous magic? The thought was thrilling, not just because it would make the food safer, but because Volk was eager to experience what real orcish meat might taste like, untainted by the hazardous magic particles. "We should cook it!" Volk suggested, his voice filled with excitement. Grak''thor grinned. Without wasting a moment, they set to work. They selected a few choice cuts of meat, now devoid of the hazardous particles thanks to Volk''s abilities. Grak''thor led the way to a fire pit just outside the shop, where they began to gather wood and kindling. The orcish butcher moved with surprising speed and precision, his years of experience evident in the way he expertly prepared the fire. As the flames crackled to life, they positioned the meat over the heat, letting it cook slowly, allowing the juices to flow and the aroma to fill the air. The scent was intoxicating, rich and savory, unlike anything Volk had ever smelled before. His mouth watered in anticipation, his hunger growing with each passing moment. Grak''thor stood beside him, tending to the fire, a look of contentment on his face. "This reminds me of the old days," he said, his voice wistful. "Back before everything went to hell. We used to have feasts like this all the time, back when meat was just meat, and we didn''t have to worry about all this magic nonsense." Volk nodded, his thoughts drifting to his own past, to the life he had lived before finding himself in this strange world. It felt like a lifetime ago, a distant memory that was fading with each new experience he had here. As the meat cooked, they both waited with bated breath. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The minutes felt like hours, they were becoming eager and eager. And finally, after a while, the meat was done, the skin charred just right, and it seems the inside were cooked to perfection. Grak''thor carefully removed the meat from the fire, setting it on a wooden slab. The juices sizzled as they dripped onto the hot surface, the smell making Volk''s stomach growl in response. Grak''thor handed Volk a piece, and without hesitation, Volk took a bite. The flavor exploded in his mouth, rich and succulent, with a depth he hadn''t expected. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted before¡ªboth familiar and entirely new. The absence of the hazardous magic particles made the meat taste pure, untainted, and it was a revelation. Every bite was a new experience, each one better than the last. Grak''thor watched him with a grin, clearly pleased with Volk''s reaction. "Good, isn''t it?" Volk nodded, unable to speak through his full mouth. He hadn''t realized how much he had missed the simple pleasure of eating until now. This was more than just a meal¡ªit was a celebration, a moment of shared joy in a world filled with danger and uncertainty. Chapter 21 - 21: Grakthors gift As the last bit of meat disappeared from the fire, Volk wiped his mouth, while his thoughts drifted as the flavors lingered on his tongue. The fire crackled softly in front of him, with its embers glowing with a fading warmth that matched the quiet satisfaction in Volk''s heart. Suddenly, when he tried to hold another meat and use absorption to it, he paused. And then he pressed to absorb again, but it didn''t work. "I can''t absorb hazardous magic particles anymore?" he muttered, the question slipping out almost involuntarily. His brow furrowed as he tried to sense the flow of magic around him, but there was nothing. It was as if his ability had simply switched off. Grak''thor, who had been equally absorbed in the aftermath of their feast, looked up at Volk''s question. His lips twitched, and then he burst into a hearty laugh, the sound rolling out like thunder through the still air. "HA-HA-HA! Don''t you worry about that, lad!" Grak''thor''s voice boomed, shaking the very walls of the butcher shop. "Everything has its limits. You''ve done a lot of absorbing today, and even your power needs a break! But trust me, come tomorrow, you''ll be back at it, soaking up all that hazardous magic like a sponge." Volk''s face relaxed, though a hint of worry still lingered. But Grak''thor''s infectious laugh soon banished those concerns, and Volk found himself grinning along with the old orc. It was reassuring, knowing that even his abilities needed time to recharge. "Besides," Grak''thor continued, reaching for a clean piece of animal skin, its surface unmarred by any trace of hazardous magic particles, "that was a great eating ceremony! Here, take this to your partner too." Volk''s smile widened, and he accepted the offering gratefully. "Thanks for not forgetting, Grak''thor," he said, his voice warm with appreciation. "HA-HA-HA! How could I forget? You and your partner deserve to enjoy this feast too." Grak''thor''s laughter rumbled out again, his eyes twinkling with mirth. But then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he paused, his expression growing more serious. "Wait here," he said abruptly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Volk''s eyes widened in surprise as Grak''thor stood up and disappeared into the back of the shop. He was left holding the animal skin with the cooked meat, with the warmth of the fire in front of him contrasting with the cool night air. He poked at the embers absentmindedly, his mind buzzing with curiosity. What was Grak''thor up to now? The minutes stretched on, and just as Volk began to wonder if the old orc had forgotten about him, Grak''thor reappeared. Volk''s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw what the butcher was holding. In Grak''thor''s arms was a large, intricately carved wooden box, its surface gleaming faintly in the firelight. But it wasn''t the box itself that caught Volk''s attention¡ªit was the faint, magical aura emanating from within it. Grak''thor set the box down carefully before Volk, a solemn expression on his face. "This is a gift for you, Volk," he said, his voice carrying a weight of significance. "You''ve made me remember the old times, made me taste meat without hazardous magic particles for the first time in ages. This is my way of saying thank you." Volk''s eyes flicked from the box to Grak''thor, and back again. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. Grak''thor nodded, his gaze distant as if he were seeing something far away. "Yes, I''m sure. These crystals¡­" He trailed off, his voice growing softer. "These crystals are my thanks to you and to the tribe''s future. They''ve been with me for a long time, but now¡­ now I want you to have them." Volk carefully opened the box, and his breath caught in his throat. Inside were various crystals, each one glowing with a faint, otherworldly light. The colors were mesmerizing, ranging from deep blues and vibrant greens to fiery reds and soothing purples. .Each crystal seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a tangible sense of power radiating from them. Grak''thor''s voice, now laced with nostalgia, drew Volk''s attention back to the old orc. "I had a partner once," Grak''thor began, his eyes misting over as memories flooded back. "She was everything to me. Strong, fierce, and beautiful¡ªjust like the mountains that surrounded our old tribe. We were young then, full of life and dreams of a future together." Volk listened intently, sensing that this was a story Grak''thor hadn''t shared with anyone in a long time. The old orc''s voice was thick with emotion, each word heavy with the weight of the past. "We used to walk the forests together," Grak''thor continued, his gaze distant. "Hunting, gathering, living off the land. Those were the good times¡ªtimes I thought would last forever. But¡­ nothing ever does, does it?" He let out a long, sorrowful sigh, the sound echoing through the quiet night. "The dark days came, and we lost everything. Our tribe¡­ our home¡­ and her. She was taken from me by those damn Dark Witches and Red Warlocks. I couldn''t protect her, couldn''t save her¡­" The pain in Grak''thor''s voice was palpable, and Volk felt a pang of sympathy for the old orc. He had seen a lot of loss before, but this¡­ this was one of those who had it rough. Like a wound that had never fully healed, or a scar that still aches after all these years. "After she was gone, I couldn''t bear to stay in our destroyed village. I wandered for a long time, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat could fill the void she left behind. But nothing ever did. Eventually, I found myself here, in this tribe, far from everything I once knew. I''ve been here ever since, trying to forget, trying to move on." Grak''thor paused, his eyes closing as he took a deep, shuddering breath. "But you never really move on, do you? You just¡­ learn to live with it. And you try to make the best of what you have left." He looked at Volk then, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I never took another partner after her. I couldn''t. It wouldn''t have been fair to them¡ªto be with someone who could never love them fully. So I dedicated myself to the tribe, to making sure they had what they needed to survive." Grak''thor gestured to the crystals in the box. "These crystals¡­ they''re the last of what I have from those days. I''ve kept them all these years, not knowing what to do with them. But now¡­ now I want you to have them, Volk. You''re young, and you have your whole life ahead of you. Use them well, and enjoy every moment with your partner. Don''t make the same mistake I did." Volk swallowed hard, the weight of Grak''thor''s words settling heavily on his shoulders. "Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper. Grak''thor nodded, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yes. I don''t have a partner in this tribe, Volk. My time has passed. But you¡­ you still have a chance. Take these crystals and use them. Enjoy your youth, and the times of peace while you can." Volk carefully closed the box, his heart full of gratitude and respect for the old orc. "Alright," he said softly. "If you insist." As he stood up to leave, Grak''thor suddenly asked, "Volk¡­ what is your Grum-gar form?" Volk paused, his hand resting on the doorframe. The question hung in the air, heavy with anticipation. Slowly, Volk turned back to face Grak''thor, the firelight casting long shadows across his face. "My Grum-gar form¡­" He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. His Grum-gar form or his Radioactive form was something he hadn''t fully explored yet, something that held both power and mystery. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But as he looked into Grak''thor''s eyes, he realized that the old orc wasn''t just asking out of curiosity¡ªhe was asking out of respect, out of a need to understand the warrior who had rekindled his old memories and given him a reason to hope again. Chapter 22 - 22: Sudden announcement As he turned to face the old orc, the crackling of the fire behind him seemed to grow louder, the warmth of the flames reaching out as if urging him to stay. "Why do you need to know?" Volk asked, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. He wasn''t sure why Grak''thor was so interested in his Grum-gar form. It seemed a strange question, especially after everything they had just discussed. Grak''thor''s expression grew serious, the light-hearted warmth from their earlier conversation fading away like the dying embers in the hearth. He motioned for Volk to sit down, and after a moment''s hesitation, Volk complied, sitting cross-legged by the fire. "There''s a story you need to hear, Volk," Grak''thor began, his voice deep and somber. "The story of the Grum-gar form." The crackle of the fire filled the silence that followed, each pop and sizzle a reminder of the tension in the room. Grak''thor''s eyes were distant, as if he were looking back through the ages, seeing the events he was about to describe. "Hornless Orcs like us, we were once gentle creatures, nothing like the brutish Ogres who roam the lands. We lived in harmony with nature, our strength used not for war, but for building and crafting. We were builders, healers, and caretakers of the land." The fire popped loudly, *CRACK!* echoing Grak''thor''s words, the flames dance as if telling their own story. "But that all changed when the hunts began," Grak''thor continued, his voice darkening. "We were hunted, one by one, by the Dark Witches and Red Warlocks. They saw our gentleness as weakness, our peaceful nature as an invitation to conquer. We were easy prey, and many of our kin were slaughtered." sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk listened intently, the weight of the story sinking into him. He could almost see the past unfolding before him¡ªthe peaceful Orcs living in harmony, only to be torn apart by merciless hunters. The thought of his people being so vulnerable, so easily preyed upon, stirred something deep within him. "And then," Grak''thor''s voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the *HISS* of the fire, "some of us ate the flesh of an Ogre." Volk''s eyes widened in shock, the idea of consuming such a creature repugnant to him. But Grak''thor continued before he could voice his disgust. "It was in desperation, you see. Those who ate the flesh of an Ogre didn''t do it for power or glory¡ªthey did it to survive. And what they gained from that act was something beyond their control: the Grum-gar form." The fire blazed brighter for a moment, sending a shower of sparks into the air with a *WHOOSH*, as if reacting to the weight of Grak''thor''s words. "The Grum-gar form is an extremely powerful magic, one that turns a normal Orc into something more, something monstrous. In that form, no one can defeat them. They become unstoppable, their strength and rage unmatched by any other creature." Volk felt a chill run down his spine at the thought. He had seen the raw power of his own transformation, but this¡­ this sounded like something far more dangerous. "But there is a terrible price," Grak''thor continued, his voice filled with sorrow. "The Grum-gar form is wild, uncontrollable. It consumes the Orc, mind and body. And it makes us vulnerable¡ªvulnerable to manipulation, to madness, to losing ourselves entirely." Volk''s breath caught in his throat, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend the full implications of what Grak''thor was saying. The power of the Grum-gar form sounded like both a gift and a curse, one that could save his people or destroy them. "Let me give you some examples," Grak''thor said, leaning forward, his voice growing more intense. "There are different personalities of the Grum-gar form, each with its own conditions and dangers." He held up one finger, "The first is the Berserker. When an Orc enters this form, they become consumed by rage. Their strength multiplies tenfold, but they lose all sense of friend and foe. They attack everything in sight, unable to distinguish between enemy and ally. The Berserker is unstoppable, but they are also uncontrollable. If they stay in this form too long, they may never return to their original self." Grak''thor held up a second finger, "The second is the Shadow. This form grants an Orc incredible stealth and agility. They can move through the darkness like a ghost, unseen and unheard. But the Shadow form brings with it a creeping paranoia, a fear of the light, a fear of being seen. Those who take this form often become so consumed by their own fears that they turn on their own kin, seeing enemies where there are none." A third finger joined the others, "The third is the Beast. In this form, an Orc''s physical body transforms into something more akin to an animal. Their senses are heightened, their strength and speed far beyond that of any normal Orc. But with this power comes a loss of humanity. The Beast form strips away the mind, leaving only the instincts of a wild animal. Many who take this form never return to being Orcs¡ªthey live out the rest of their days as feral creatures." Finally, Grak''thor held up a fourth finger, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "And then there is the Wraith. The Wraith form grants incredible magical abilities, allowing an Orc to manipulate the very essence of the world around them. But the power of the Wraith comes at a terrible cost¡ªtheir connection to the physical world begins to fade. They become like ghosts, able to pass through solid objects, but unable to touch or interact with the world. In time, they lose all sense of reality, drifting into a state of eternal solitude, unable to return to their physical form." The room was silent save for the *CRACKLE* and *POP* of the fire. Volk felt a knot of fear tightening in his chest. The Grum-gar form wasn''t just a source of power¡ªit was a curse, one that could destroy him if he wasn''t careful. "And there''s more," Grak''thor said, his voice heavy with dread. "As an Orc ages, the Grum-gar form becomes harder to control. The older we get, the more we are drawn into that form, until eventually, we can''t change back. We lose ourselves entirely, becoming monsters in both mind and body." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest. He had never considered the long-term consequences of his powers. The idea that he could one day lose control, become a monster, was terrifying. But then Grak''thor''s words took an even darker turn. "The only way to combat this decline," Grak''thor continued, "is to improve your rank as a Mag''Durotan. This won''t stop the decline, but it will slow it down. It gives us more time¡ªtime to prepare, to find a way to live with the curse." Volk''s mind reeled. The realization that no matter what he did, the Grum-gar form would eventually consume him, was like a blow to the gut. He had always thought of his powers as a gift, a way to protect those he cared about. But now¡­ now he saw them for what they really were¡ªa ticking time bomb. "But wait¡­" Volk began, his voice trembling slightly. "My Grum-gar form¡­ it''s different." Grak''thor''s eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Different? How?" Volk took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "The higher my power level rises, the longer I can stay in my Grum-gar form. It''s as if my form is tied to my power, not to time." Grak''thor''s eyes widened in surprise. "That''s¡­ that''s unheard of," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Most Orcs can only delay the inevitable, not extend it." Volk''s mind raced as he tried to piece together the puzzle. "Maybe it''s because my form isn''t really a Grum-gar form," he muttered to himself. "Maybe it''s something else¡­ something created by the system." A long sigh of relief escaped Volk''s lips as the weight of the revelation began to lift. Whatever his form was, it seemed to be different from the cursed Grum-gar forms that plagued his kin. Maybe¡­ just maybe, he was safe from the fate that awaited the others. But before he could dwell on this further, a sudden phenomenon interrupted his thoughts. A brilliant transparent laser shot up from the ground, piercing the sky with a ZAP! and lighting up the night like a beacon. "What is that?" Volk exclaimed, his eyes widening as he stared at the strange sight. Grak''thor''s expression turned grim. "That''s a catacomb," he said, his voice tense. "A catacomb has just surfaced nearby." "A catacomb?" Volk asked, still staring at the green light. "What does that mean?" "It means there are crystals to be found," Grak''thor replied, already on his feet. "And it means we need to hurry. Let''s go!" Without another word, Volk and Grak''thor sprinted towards the source of the light. The ground shook beneath their feet with a THUD-THUD-THUD, the air filled with the electric hum of magic. Chapter 23 - 23: Telling Solluhar As the vibrant atmosphere of the gathering quieted, a voice pierced through the air like a bell, clear and resonant. "Attention, all warriors of the tribe!" The voice belonged to a female elf, her tone was soft and feminine but it was also commanding and filled with the weight of responsibility. "The wandering Drugan Warriors have discovered a dungeon!" A murmur rippled through the crowd, the sound growing like a low hum as the orcs and elves exchanged glances. The news was electrifying, the kind of discovery that stirred both fear and excitement. But the voice wasn''t done. "It was no easy task," the woman continued, her voice carrying a tone of pride and exhaustion. "They faced numerous challenges, fought against the elements, and scoured every inch of the land until they finally found it. This dungeon is not for the faint of heart, and only those who have reached the third to fifth stages of the Mag''Durotan may enter!" Volk''s heart thudded in his chest, THUMP-THUMP, the rhythmic pounding almost drowning out the rest of the woman''s words. The Mag''Durotan stages three to five. He was only in the second stage, yet the thought of entering that dungeon tomorrow stirred something deep within him¡ªa gnawing temptation. "Those who wish to enter," the woman continued, "must come prepared tomorrow. This will not be a simple test of strength. It will be a trial of your very will and soul. Only the worthy will survive!" Volk''s mind raced. He could feel the pull of the dungeon, like a magnet drawing him closer. The thought of the crystals in his possession only fueled his desire. But he knew he wasn''t ready¡ªhe was only at the second stage. Suddenly, Grak''thor''s deep, knowing voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "You''re thinking about it, aren''t you?" Volk turned to face the elder orc, his thoughts betrayed by the look on his face. Grak''thor''s lips curled into a knowing grin. "You want to enter that dungeon, don''t you?" Grak''thor said with a chuckle, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and understanding. "You can do it tomorrow. Use the crystals that I gave you, and then, when you''re inside, use it as a chance to gather even more crystals for your partner." Volk''s eyes widened in surprise. How did Grak''thor know exactly what he was thinking? He glanced down at his right hand, where the crystals lay, their smooth surfaces glinting in the firelight. "Okay," Volk finally said, his voice resolute. The idea of entering the dungeon tomorrow filled him with a mixture of fear and anticipation, but Grak''thor''s words gave him the push he needed. Grak''thor nodded approvingly. "Good. And when you return, we''ll take a look at your Grum-gar form. It''s important that you understand it fully." Volk nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of purpose settling within his head. Grak''thor then waved him off with a hand, a gesture that was both dismissive and encouraging. "Go on," Grak''thor said with a grin. "Go to your partner. She''s waiting for you." Volk didn''t need to be told twice. He turned and left the gathering, his footsteps THUD-THUD-THUD against the dirt as he made his way back to his tower. The journey back was quick, his mind focused on what lay ahead. When he reached the tower, he didn''t hesitate. With a BAM, he slammed the door open, the wooden structure groaning under the force. The sudden noise echoed through the empty halls, startling Solluha''r, who had been sitting quietly in the room. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Volk?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and concern. Volk''s intense expression softened as he saw her startled reaction. He hadn''t meant to scare her. An apologetic look crossed his face as he took a step forward. "Have you eaten already?" he asked, his tone gentler now. Solluha''r''s eyes flickered to the bundle in his hand, the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air. She shook her head slowly, her expression one of confusion. "I haven''t eaten for a year now," she said and her tone of voice was soft like it was natural. Volk blinked, taken aback by her response. Then he remembered¡ªshe was an elf. The thought left him speechless for a moment. How could he have forgotten something so important? Regaining his composure, Volk held out the bundle towards her. "Look, I have meat here," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. He unwrapped the bundle, revealing the perfectly cooked meat, its scent rich and enticing. Solluha''r''s eyes widened in shock as she stared at the meat. She was incredibly sensitive to mana, and what she sensed¡ªor rather, didn''t sense¡ªleft her stunned. "Volk¡­ how did you manage this?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "There''s no trace of hazardous magic particles on this meat. Was it thoroughly cleaned?" Volk hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He could see the genuine astonishment in her eyes, and it made him nervous. Solluha''r continued, her voice gaining momentum as she recalled her studies. "When I was still learning from the elder elves, they told us about the dangers of hazardous magic particles in meat. They spoke of countless attempts to cleanse it, using various spells and methods. They even explained why there were so many labor orcs in the offsprings¡ªbecause the food they consumed was often contaminated, and it was nearly impossible to remove all the hazardous particles. And now, you''re telling me this meat is completely free of them?" Her words spilled out like a torrent, her shock evident with every sentence. Volk could barely keep up. Should he tell her the truth? Should he admit that it wasn''t just a simple cleaning process, but something more? Would it be a problem if he became a shaman? Solluha''r, sensing his hesitation, placed a hand on his arm. Her touch was gentle, reassuring. "Volk," she said softly, her voice a calming presence in the whirlwind of his thoughts, "you don''t have to hide anything from me. I won''t tell anyone." Volk looked into her eyes and saw the sincerity in them. She wasn''t just saying this out of curiosity¡ªshe genuinely wanted to help him, to support him. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Taking a deep breath, Volk finally spoke. "I don''t want to be a shaman," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Solluha''r''s reaction was one of shock, her eyes widening at his confession. But then, as the meaning of his words sank in, she nodded slowly. "I see," she said, her tone thoughtful. "I remember you awakened the Orc magic ability, the Grum-gar form. If you became a shaman, it could be detrimental¡ªmaybe even a disadvantage. I understand why you wouldn''t want that." Volk let out a sigh of relief, the tension that had been building in his chest finally releasing. He hadn''t realized just how much he needed her understanding, her acceptance. "There''s more," he said after a moment, his voice steady now. "I have the ability to absorb hazardous magic particles. That''s how I cleaned the meat." Solluha''r looked at him, her expression one of awe and understanding. She nodded, with her lips curving into a gentle smile. "For real?" With her eyes gleaming, "If that''s the case, that''s an incredible gift, Volk. And I''m glad you shared it with me. We''ll figure out what it means together. But a pity, we don''t have magic crystals¡­" Chapter 24 - 24: Absorption Ability Volk''s heart thudded with excitement as he revealed the magic crystals clutched in his other hand. Solluha''r, who had been sitting quietly, her earlier look of helplessness fading, suddenly bolted upright. Her eyes widened to the size of full moons, and before she could stop herself, she let out an astonished cry, "Whaaaaaat!?" The exclamation echoed through the room, bouncing off the stone walls like a ricocheting arrow. Realizing how loud she had been, Solluha''r''s face flushed a deep crimson. She slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes darting away in embarrassment. "I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to shout," she stammered, her voice now a shy murmur. Volk couldn''t help but chuckle at her reaction, a warm smile spreading across his face. Solluha''r, still blushing furiously, slowly lowered her hands from her mouth, her curiosity getting the better of her. "H-how¡­ how did you get those?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "It''s way too early for you to have magic crystals. Usually, an orc can''t get one until at least three months have passed¡­ And you¡­ you got them in just one day?" Her words came out in a rush, stumbling over themselves as her emotions tangled together in a mixture of embarrassment, pride, and awe. Volk''s smile widened as he leaned in closer, his voice teasing. "Guess how?" Solluha''r''s cheeks flamed even redder as she caught the playful glint in his eyes. He was enjoying this¡ªenjoying her confusion, her flustered state. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Volk scooped her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground with ease. "Ah!" she gasped, her body trembling with a mix of surprise and excitement. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to steady herself. But despite her shock, she managed to stammer out, "It¡­ it was Grak''thor, wasn''t it?" Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk froze, his eyes widening in shock. "How did you know that?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine surprise. Solluha''r, still nestled in his arms, took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "It''s¡­ it''s because of your smell," she began hesitantly, her words spilling out in a rush. "And the meat¡­ The herbivore meat you brought back was a special kind and only in the part of the market where they sell those kinds of meat and one of them was his shop. Plus, Grak''thor is the only butcher in the meat area who would have those kinds of crystals because he¡­ he refused to have a partner. He''s the only one who does that because he came from a hazardless tribe, one that was destroyed long ago. When you gave him that meat, it must have reminded him of his old tribe, of everything he lost. That''s why he gave you the crystals¡ªout of gratitude." Solluha''r''s voice trembled as she spoke, her emotions laid bare. Her face was a deep shade of red, her embarrassment evident as she revealed everything she had pieced together. She had always been the informative one, the one who knew more than anyone else. But in the past, this knowledge had driven people away, made them wary of her. Her classmates had been intimidated by her, and even her former lover, Luk''Tar, had been scared off by how much she knew. She had seen that look of fear in their eyes, that sense of alienation. As she finished explaining, Solluha''r hesitantly looked up at Volk, bracing herself for that same reaction, for that familiar look of fear or discomfort. But what she saw instead left her breathless. Volk''s face wasn''t filled with fear or unease¡ªit was filled with pride. His eyes gleamed with joy, a proud light shining within them. His expression was one of pure amazement and admiration, not a trace of the discomfort she had come to expect. Solluha''r''s heart swelled with emotion, a wave of warmth washing over her. For the first time, she felt truly understood, truly appreciated for who she was. She felt touched, she didn''t even understand what was happening but she couldn''t help but felt that her feelings for Volk deepened in a way she hadn''t expected. But amidst the rush of emotions, Solluha''r suddenly became aware of Volk''s hands, which had slowly drifted down to her open stomach. A jolt of sensation shot through her, a mix of heat and ticklishness that made her skin tingle, it also made her feel the familiar warm sticky web substance below her. As if her body reacted instinctively from his touch, making her breath quickens, with her pulse racing fast. Unable to resist the sensations coursing through her, Solluha''r''s body trembled with the intensity. But even as the familiar emotions swirled within her, she mustered the strength to whisper, "Wait¡­ Please¡­" Volk immediately stopped, with his expression shifting to one of concern. "What''s wrong?" Solluha''r''s face burned with embarrassment, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to explain. "I¡­ I need to absorb the crystal first¡­ before we¡­ do that." Her words came out in a shy, embarrassed rush, her eyes avoiding his gaze. Volk''s eyes widened in realization. "The crystal?" he echoed, understanding dawning on him. Solluha''r nodded, her embarrassment still evident. "I heard the beam of sound earlier, and¡­ and judging by how you came back in such a hurry, it means the tribe won''t let you join the catacombs unless you reach the third stage of Mag''Durotan. And the catacombs probably require warriors at stages three to five¡­" Her voice trailed off, her gaze finally meeting his. Volk couldn''t help but feel a surge of admiration for her insight. She had pieced everything together with such precision, understanding the situation without even needing to be told. He slowly set her down, his movements gentle and careful, as if she were something precious. Solluha''r reached out for the crystals with trembling hands, her expression a mix of determination and nervousness. Volk watched her, unsure of what to do next, but then Solluha''r''s shy voice broke the silence. "You¡­ you could try the meat on the first floor, if you don''t know what to do for now," she suggested, with her voice laced with embarrassment. "It''s your prize¡­ for capturing the venomous earth mole yesterday." Volk nodded, his mind still spinning from everything that had just happened. He left the room, making his way down the stairs to the first floor. As he searched for the meat, his thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions and questions. When he finally found it, he unwrapped the bundle carefully, revealing the meat inside. As he looked at it, something familiar caught his eye. The meat was different¡ªthere was a faint glow to it, something that hadn''t been there before. He stared at it in confusion, his mind immediately tried to make sense of what he was seeing. But this time, he could see that it was not green anymore, but a brown one. Then, it hit him. "Absorption?" he muttered to himself, the word escaping his lips as the realization dawned on him. The meat had somehow absorbed the hazardous magic particles, just like he could. The implications of this discovery left him stunned, his mind reeling with questions how? Chapter 25 - 25: Love making before Catacomb Diving Volk''s heart pounded with exhilaration as he dashed back up the stairs, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the tower. "I can absorb again! I can absorb again!" His shout was filled with childlike glee, the discovery of his ability renewing his excitement. He burst through the door, finding Solluha''r waiting for him with a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes sparkled with warmth as she watched him, clearly pleased by his enthusiasm. Volk''s face was glowing as he repeated, "I can absorb again, Solluha''r! I can absorb again!!" Solluha''r nodded in response, her smile widening. But then, something shifted in Volk''s expression. His joy tempered, giving way to a look of suspicion. He took a step closer to her, his brow furrowing. "You''re suspicious," he said slowly, his voice dropping an octave. "It''s as if you already knew this would happen¡­" Solluha''r''s breath caught in her throat as Volk''s intense gaze locked onto hers. He closed the distance between them in one swift movement, his eyes narrowing. "Did you know this was going to happen?" he asked directly, his voice now a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. Solluha''r''s face reddened as she tried to avoid his gaze, her mind scrambling for an excuse. "I¡­ I didn''t know¡­ I just¡­ I just thought that¡­" she stammered, her voice faltering under the weight of his stare. But before she could finish her sentence, Volk reached out, gently cupping her face in his hand. He tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. Volk''s look was teasing, yet there was an edge to it, a promise of something more. "Did you enjoy seeing me act like a child?" he murmured, his tone playful yet probing. "Jumping with happiness? Is that what you want? To play with my brittle heart? Hmmm¡­?" Solluha''r swallowed hard, the heat in her cheeks intensifying. She could feel her heart racing, her body betraying her as she struggled to find the right words. Finally, with her voice barely above a whisper, she admitted, "I¡­ I only thought of it because¡­ because what you absorbed was one of my main elemental affinity¡­" Her face turned a deeper shade of red as she continued, her words tumbling out in a rush. "But as a witch, unlike normal elves who usually only have one elemental affinity, I have three more¡­ And one of them is the Earth element, but¡­ but I''m only at the beginning stages, so even if we do the deed¡­ the benefit would be low¡­" Volk listened intently as she explained with an unreadable expression on his face. Solluha''r''s explanation grew more detailed, her words weaving a complex picture of elemental affinities and their effects. She spoke of how Lyerin''s absorption of the main elemental affinity was a natural process for elves, how it usually required time and practice, and how her own affinity for the Earth element was still in its infancy. Her embarrassment was palpable, each word laced with the vulnerability of revealing something deeply personal. When she finally finished, Volk remained silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then, with a serious expression, he asked, "So we can''t do it in the botanical mana?" Solluha''r shook her head, her blush deepening. "No¡­ The crystal that Grak''thor gave us¡­ it''s not enough," she murmured, her voice barely audible. Volk nodded thoughtfully. "What about the wind affinity?" he asked suddenly. Solluha''r''s eyes widened in shock, her expression one of utter disbelief. "How¡­ how do you know that?" she gasped, her mind reeling. She didn''t remember telling him about her wind affinity, yet he had somehow figured it out. Volk simply smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. "You''re not the only one who has something special about them," he replied, his tone cryptic. Solluha''r''s heart skipped a beat, her mind swirling with a mixture of confusion and admiration. His words struck a chord deep within her, making her feel even more flustered. She bit her lip, trying to steady herself. "We could¡­ we could do it," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I''ve already absorbed the magic crystals and converted them into wind elemental mana¡­ And¡­ and there''s plenty of wind mana compared to the other elements¡­ so we could really do it¡­" Volk''s smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with a teasing light. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he murmured in her ear, "Let''s do it, then. Let''s do it for the tribe." Solluha''r''s entire body tingled at his words, her blush spreading from her cheeks down to her neck. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She was acutely aware of how close he was, the warmth of his breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine. Suddenly, Volk began undressing her, his hands deft and sure. Solluha''r''s breath hitched, but instead of stopping him, she found herself helping him, her hands moving almost of their own accord. The feel of his hands on her skin sent electric sparks through her, as if her body was responding to his touch with a mix of anticipation and nervous excitement. Volk grinned as he watched her, his eyes filled with mischief. "Are you really doing this for the tribe?" he teased, his voice low and seductive. Solluha''r avoided his gaze, her face burning with embarrassment. She could feel the heat rising within her, her heart racing faster with every second. When she was finally bare before him, her vulnerability on full display, Volk''s expression softened. He gazed at her with a mixture of admiration and something deeper¡ªsomething that made her heart swell. "I can understand if you''re doing this for the tribe," he said softly. "But if you''re doing it because you want me¡­ then I''ll be even more motivated to put a lot of children inside you." Solluha''r''s breath caught in her throat, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. She opened her mouth to respond, to say something¡ªanything¡ªbut the words stuck in her throat. Volk''s serious, determined look made it clear that he meant every word, and it left her speechless. But before she could gather her thoughts, Volk silenced her with a gentle yet firm touch. "You don''t have to say anything to make me feel good," he whispered. "I don''t want to force you to admit anything." Solluha''r''s mind was a blur, her emotions a tangled mess. But then, suddenly, she felt something hard enter her, a sensation so intense and overwhelming that it made her entire body tense. It was pulsing, hard and hot, filling her with a heat that was almost unbearable. It was in! she thought, her mind struggling to keep up with the flood of sensations. Her face flushed even redder, her body instinctively gripping onto him, wanting to feel him even more. The pleasure was overwhelming, building with each pulse, each movement, it''s making her go crazy. Volk''s voice broke through the haze, firm and resolute. "Solluha''r," he said, his tone filled with promise. "Be prepared. I''ll make sure to put a lot of babies inside you." Solluha''r could only nod, like her body was responding to his words with a deep sense of satisfaction and ecstasy. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Soon enough, the afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room as the two of them gave in to their desires. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the air, a symphony of splashing and pleasure that echoed throughout the tower. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they continued to lose themselves in each other, the night stretching on as they explored the depths of their connection. For that moment, nothing else mattered¡ªonly the two of them, and the bond they were forging together, stronger and deeper than either of them had ever imagined. Chapter 26 - 26: Incredibly fast Creation The morning sun barely peeked over the horizon when Volk stirred from his sleep, his powerful body still tangled in the warmth of Solluha''r''s embrace. The events of the night played over in his mind, a heady mix of pride, satisfaction, and a lingering tenderness that surprised him. He glanced at Solluha''r, who was peacefully resting beside him, her breathing soft and rhythmic. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He didn''t want to leave her side, but he knew he had to. The day ahead promised new challenges, and he needed to be prepared. Carefully, Volk began to untangle himself from Solluha''r, trying not to wake her. He was about to gently smooth her hair back, to ensure she wouldn''t be startled when she awoke to find him gone, when suddenly, her body jerked violently, causing Volk to freeze in place. His heart skipped a beat as Solluha''r''s body convulsed and twitches uncontrollably. Panic immediately spread through his entire being as he watched her tremble, her face contorting in pain. Before Volk could react, Solluha''r''s eyes snapped open, and she let out a blood-curdling scream that reverberated through the room, piercing Volk''s ears and sending a chill down his spine. "Solluha''r!" he shouted, his voice thick with fear. What is happening? His mind raced as he tried to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Solluha''r clutched her stomach, her fingers digging into her flesh as if trying to hold something in. Her eyes, wide with terror, began to weep green and silver tears, with streaks of brown and blue mixed in¡ªa grotesque, otherworldly display. Soon, it wasn''t just her eyes; the strange liquid began to pour from her nose, mouth, and even her ears, painting her face with colors that should never have mingled together. Volk''s fear escalated. "The radiation¡­ has it affected her? Is she going to die?" The thoughts screamed through his mind, but he couldn''t let himself believe it. He had to do something¡ªanything to save her. He frantically searched her face for a sign of what to do, desperate to help. Then, through her pain, Solluha''r''s trembling hand lifted and weakly beckoned him towards something. Volk''s gaze followed the direction of her hand, landing on the box filled with magic crystals nearby. His instincts kicked in immediately, and he grabbed the box, pulling it closer to her. The moment he did, Solluha''r reached out and laid her hand on the box. The magic crystals within began to glow, their light shimmering as if alive, before the particles of mana within them started to drift out, swirling around Solluha''r''s hand before being absorbed into her body. "Mana?" Volk whispered, his eyes wide as he watched in amazement. Solluha''r, though still visibly weak, managed a faint smile. "This¡­ this is normal¡­ when an Elven witch¡­ is pregnant¡­ with a hornless orc''s child¡­" Volk''s heart stopped for a moment. "Pregnant?" The word left his lips, his voice laced with disbelief and shock. His mind struggled to wrap around the reality of what she had just said. Solluha''r nodded weakly, still absorbing the mana. Her breath was shallow, but she continued to speak, her voice a fragile whisper. "Yes¡­ pregnant¡­ The compatibility¡­ between a Hornless Orc and an Elven witch¡­ it''s very natural¡­ very strong¡­ That''s why¡­ our races¡­ are perfect for each other¡­" Volk''s jaw dropped, his eyes widening to an almost comical degree. Pregnant? Already? The sheer speed of it all left him reeling. "But¡­ how? Is it really that fast?" he asked, his voice trembling. Solluha''r, despite her weakened state, blushed deeply, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment. She took a shaky breath, preparing herself to explain. "When¡­ when an Elven witch¡­ and a Hornless Orc copulate¡­ it''s¡­ it''s a union of natural chemistry¡­ the pregnancy happens almost instantly¡­ That''s why¡­ our races have thrived¡­ even with the constant threat¡­ of being hunted by Dark Elven Witches and Red Elven Warlocks¡­" Volk listened, completely dumbfounded by her words. She continued, her voice gaining a bit of strength as she spoke. "In ancient times¡­ this compatibility¡­ it was the reason¡­ why, despite the odds, we survived¡­ The Hornless Orcs¡­ and the Elven witches¡­ are perfect for each other¡­ and that''s why¡­ even though our enemies hunt us¡­ our population never dwindles¡­" As she finished speaking, Solluha''r took another shaky breath, then looked directly at Volk, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and pride. "Volk¡­ you''re going to be¡­ the father of twenty children¡­" Volk''s eyes bulged out of his head, his mouth falling open in utter shock. "Twenty?!" he exclaimed, his voice almost a shout. His mind couldn''t process the sheer number. His jaw practically hit the floor as he stared at her, his disbelief palpable. "So many?" he finally managed to sputter. Solluha''r, despite everything, giggled softly at his reaction. Her laughter was light, almost musical, a sweet sound that contrasted sharply with the chaos of moments before. She nodded, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Yes¡­ that''s also why¡­ our population¡­ is strong¡­ Elven witches¡­ can bear many children¡­ especially with a Hornless Orc¡­" Volk swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He tried to wrap his head around the concept of being the father of twenty children. "That''s¡­ that''s too many," he said, almost to himself. "How¡­ how will you be able to¡­ keep them all inside?" Solluha''r smiled softly, her expression tender. She was still weak, but she gathered her strength to explain. "The children¡­ they''re very small¡­ when they''re inside¡­ only as big as a finger¡­ They won''t make my stomach¡­ inflate too much¡­ And when they''re ready to come out¡­ they''ll pupate¡­ like butterfly worms¡­ It''s a natural process¡­ so they won''t¡­ harm me¡­" She paused, taking a moment to catch her breath before continuing. "A normal elf¡­ can have up to twelve children¡­ at their peak¡­ But I¡­ because of my connection¡­ with you¡­ if I reached my peak because of my talent¡­ I can have at least¡­ forty-eight children¡­" Volk was speechless, his tongue tied by the sheer magnitude of what she was saying. "Forty-eight?" he repeated, the number almost too large for him to comprehend. Solluha''r nodded, her smile tinged with sadness. "Yes¡­ but even if it''s¡­ that many¡­ only a few¡­ will become warriors¡­ Most will become¡­ laborers¡­" Her voice wavered, the sadness in her words clear. Seeing her distress, Volk reached out and gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away the lingering tears from her cheeks. "Don''t be sad, Solluha''r," he said softly, his voice filled with resolve. "We should celebrate once I''m back." Solluha''r managed a weak smile, her eyes shining with gratitude. She nodded slowly, but Volk wasn''t finished. He leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "And don''t worry," he added, his voice firm. "All our children will become warriors. Every single one of them." Solluha''r''s eyes widened in surprise. She stared into Volk''s eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, but all she found was unwavering confidence. She could feel the truth in his words, the strength of his conviction. It made her heart swell with pride and hope. But then, Solluha''r chuckled softly, her mood lightening. "If that''s the case¡­ then go and get¡­ a lot of magic crystals for me¡­ The strength of our warriors¡­ will depend on how many crystals¡­ you bring back¡­" Volk grinned, a fierce determination lighting up his features. He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips, making her blush deeply. Her heart fluttered at the warmth of his touch, the tenderness in his kiss. "I will," Volk promised as he pulled back, his voice full of resolve. He stood up, his powerful form casting a shadow over her as he looked down at her with a mix of love and determination. "Getting magic crystals won''t be a problem for me." With that, he turned and left the room, his steps heavy with purpose. Solluha''r watched him go, her heart filled with a mixture of emotions¡ªlove, pride, hope, and a newfound belief in their future. As the door closed behind Volk, she lay back on the bed, her hand resting on her still-flat stomach, where their future warriors were growing, and where the children were forming. However, there was also guilt in her eyes, she knew that only a few of them would manage to live in their pupation period. But she decided not to tell Volk as he left to go to the catacombs. Chapter 27 - 27: The Horde Marches! The plaza was alive with activity as Volk entered, his mind still reeling from the news he''d received that morning. The towering structure at the center of the plaza, emitting five colored flames that danced in the early light, was a sight to behold, but Volk''s thoughts were far away, consumed by the revelation that he would soon be a father. The magical world he''d been thrust into seemed to move at a breakneck pace, and now, the reality of his impending fatherhood added another layer to the complexity of his situation. As Volk approached the tower, he was suddenly greeted by a familiar figure¡ªGozorm''al, the massive orc who had attacked him during their brutal training session. Gozorm''al stepped forward, his expression uncharacteristically serious. The tension between them was palpable, and for a moment, Volk tensed, unsure of what to expect. But instead of hostility, Gozorm''al bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect. "Kaz''rogal Volk," he began, his voice deep and resonant, "I have come to apologize for my actions during our training. As an orc, I acted out of line. I disrespected you, and for that, I am truly sorry." Volk blinked in surprise. This was not the response he had expected. Before he could react, Gozorm''al continued, his tone solemn. "I have dishonored myself by underestimating you, and as an orc, I must make amends. Therefore, I recite the vow of our kind¡ªnever again will I look upon you as a simple Labor Orc. You have proven your strength and your worth. I acknowledge you as the strongest among us, as the true Kaz''rogal!" A murmur rippled through the crowd of orcs that had gathered around them. Volk could hear the surprised whispers and exclamations from those nearby. "He called him the strongest Kaz''rogal!" "Gozorm''al got his ass beat, it''s only natural he''d acknowledge him!" "Did you see how he took that hit and got back up? Unbelievable!" "He''s not just any labor orc, that''s for sure. He''s a warrior, through and through." "Gozorm''al wouldn''t say it if it weren''t true. This Volk must be something else." "Is this the same guy who beat Gozorm''al? The Kaz''rogal this year?" As the orcs voiced their opinions, Volk noticed that even the elves in the vicinity had taken an interest in the exchange. Their conversations, quieter and more reserved, floated on the air as well. "So, this is the Kaz''rogal everyone''s been talking about?" "He''s the one who took down Gozorm''al, right?" "I didn''t think a labor orc could rise so high." "Maybe he''s different. He doesn''t look like the others." "There''s something about him¡­ almost like he''s got more than just muscle." "If Gozorm''al acknowledges him, he must be exceptional." Gozorm''al, his voice booming, suddenly interrupted the murmurs. "Elves! Bring it forward!" From the edge of the plaza, several elves appeared, struggling under the weight of a massive beast hide that was bulging with some unknown content. They moved carefully, placing the heavy bundle before Volk. The crowd fell silent as all eyes turned to the scene unfolding. Gozorm''al stepped forward and gestured toward the bundle. "Kaz''rogal Volk," he said, his voice reverberating through the plaza, "this is my apology to you. This hide contains one of the finest warrior armors of our tribe. The orc who wore this armor in battle saved many lives¡ªhe killed twenty-two slaves of a Dark Elven witch to protect the tribe. This armor carries with it the honor and the blood of our strongest. I have been given permission to bestow it upon someone worthy, and I believe that someone is you." Volk''s eyes widened as the elves carefully unwrapped the hide, revealing the armor beneath. It was a magnificent piece, crafted with a brutal elegance that spoke of both power and protection. The dark metal gleamed under the light of the five-colored flames, intricate runes and patterns etched into its surface. The armor seemed almost alive, as if it carried with it the spirit of the warrior who had worn it before. Volk stepped forward, placing a hand on the armor. He could feel the weight of its history, the sacrifices that had been made by those who came before him. He looked at Gozorm''al, who was watching him with a serious expression. "Thank you, Gozorm''al," Volk said, his voice sincere. "I accept this gift with honor. And I forgive you for the training¡­ though I was planning on bashing your head in next time." He added the last part with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. There was a moment of stunned silence as Gozorm''al processed Volk''s words. Then, suddenly, the massive orc let out a deep, hearty laugh that echoed across the plaza. "GURAHAHAHAHAHAH!" The sound was so infectious that Volk found himself laughing too, though he wasn''t entirely sure why. Soon, the entire crowd joined in, the tension melting away into shared mirth. As the laughter died down, the elves moved forward to help Volk don the armor. The moment the armor was secured around him, it felt as if it had been made just for him. The weight of it was solid, grounding him, but not oppressive. Instead, it felt right, as if it was meant to be worn by someone of his strength. Before Volk could fully take in the moment, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the air. "Everyone, prepare yourselves! We leave for the lowest level dungeon!" The feminine voice belonged to a tall, stern elf woman who had appeared at the edge of the plaza, and her presence immediately commanded instant attention. The orcs around Volk reacted immediately, raising their weapons and armor, their battle cries filling the air. "Lok''tar Ogar!" they shouted, their voices fierce and unified. "Dra''nor val!" another cry echoed, followed by a chorus of "For the Horde!" Volk felt the surge of energy around him, the raw anticipation and excitement that pulsed through the orcs as they prepared for battle. He raised his own weapon¡ªa massive club studded with wicked spikes¡ªand let out a roar that mingled with the others, his voice carrying across the plaza. "For the Horde!" The collective energy was palpable, a shared purpose that bound them all together. Volk could feel it in his bones¡ªthe thrill of battle, the call of war. His earlier thoughts of fatherhood and the future faded into the background as the adrenaline took over. With the warriors around him, Volk began the march toward the dungeon, his steps heavy with resolve. The plaza, now a sea of orcs and elves united in their goal, moved as one. The journey ahead was uncertain, the dangers unknown, but Volk felt ready. He was no longer just a labor orc; he was a Kaz''rogal, a warrior with a purpose. And as he marched with his brothers and sisters into the unknown, he knew that whatever lay ahead, he would face it with the strength and determination that had brought him this far. The ground beneath their feet trembled as the army of orcs and elves moved forward, their destination clear, their spirits high. The lowest level dungeon awaited, filled with dangers and treasures untold. But Volk knew that he was ready. With the strength of his tribe behind him and the promise of a new future in front of him, he felt unstoppable. And as they descended into the depths, Volk knew one thing for certain¡ªthis was the beginning of his journey in this fantasy world. Chapter 28 - 28: Botanical Aura Veil The horde of orcs marched with determination as they crossed the threshold of their territory, leaving behind the familiar and venturing into the perilous unknown. The air grew thicker with an ominous energy, the trees taller and darker as they moved deeper into the wild lands. Volk, surrounded by nearly fifty younger orcs like himself, felt a sense of excitement mingled with trepidation. This was his first time on such a dangerous mission, and every step they took felt like a step closer to proving himself as a true warrior of the horde. The group was led by a formidable group of older, seasoned orcs, clad in bone armor that rattled with each step they took. Thud! Thud! Thud! These were the veterans, the protectors, the ones who had survived countless battles and emerged stronger. Suddenly, without warning, the armored orcs at the front raised their hands, signaling the entire group to stop. "Mag''Durotan!" he called out. Volk and the other younger orcs halted immediately. "Watch carefully!" He watches as the armored orcs, standing at the front, closed their eyes and took deep, steadying breaths. For a moment, nothing happened. The forest around them was eerily still, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the faint breeze. But then, without warning, a low, guttural sound began to emanate from the armored orcs. "Gawruuuuuuuuuuuhhh¡­" It started as a deep hum, a vibration that seemed to come from the very earth beneath their feet. Not long, the sound grew louder, more intense, until it erupted into a primal scream that echoed through the trees. "GURRAAAAAHHH!!" Volk felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as the sound reverberated through him. The scream was filled with power, raw and untamed, as if the orcs were channeling the very essence of the forest around them. As the scream reached its peak, Volk saw something incredible begin to happen. From the bodies of the armored orcs, a strange energy began to emerge. Shooosh! It was unlike anything Volk had ever seen before¡ªan aura that seemed to pulse with life itself. Unlike the radioactive magic particles he had grown accustomed to seeing, which floated like colored mist, this aura was different. It was brighter, more vibrant, like an ethereal aurora that shimmered with a deep green hue. The aura was not confined to a single point; instead, it flowed around the orcs like liquid light, rippling and undulating as if it were alive. The green aura began to expand, slowly moving away from the armored orcs and toward the younger ones, including Volk. Zooosh! As the aura touched him, Volk felt it sink into his skin, his bones, his very being. "Hmm?" It was a sensation unlike any other¡ªa warmth that spread through his body, soothing and invigorating at the same time. It felt like the energy of the forest itself was being absorbed into him, fortifying his body and mind. Volk could feel the aura settling deep within him, resonating with his own energy. His senses seemed to sharpen, his awareness heightened. He could hear the distant rustling of leaves, the quiet breathing of the other orcs, the heartbeat of the forest itself. It was as if the world around him had suddenly become more vivid, more alive. When the aura had fully settled, the armored orcs opened their eyes. One of the orcs, his voice deep and commanding, stepped forward to address the group. "This is the horde''s innate special ability," he began, "called the Botanical Aura Veil." The orc''s voice was filled with authority, and Volk listened intently as he continued. "The Botanical Aura Veil is a technique that you will all learn once you reach the sixth stage of Mag''Durotan. It is essential for your survival in these lands. This veil will protect you for half a day from the hazardous magic particles that permeate the trees and leaves in this forest. Without it, you would be vulnerable to the magic that seeks to twist your mind and body." The explanation was detailed, the orc''s tone unwavering as he spoke of the importance of this technique. "The Botanical Aura Veil is not just a shield against the elements. It also grants you resistance against any form of control abilities that may be used against you, particularly by the Dark Elven Witches. These witches are known for their insidious magic, capable of bending the will of others to their own. With this veil, you can stand strong against their spells and protect your mind from their influence." Volk listened in awe as the orc continued to explain the significance of the veil. "This is the first skill you must master as a member of the horde, a warrior of Mag''Durotan. The Botanical Aura Veil is your lifeline, your shield against the dangers of this world. But know this¡ªthis is not something that can be taught directly. You must learn it only by witnessing it, by feeling it within your bones. Only then will you truly understand its power and be able to wield it yourself." The orc continued, answering the unspoken question that lingered in Volk''s mind. "If we were to teach you this directly, you would not gain the full control that comes with mastering it. The power of the Botanical Aura Veil lies not just in its ability to protect you, but in your ability to control it, to wield it as an extension of your own strength. By witnessing it, by feeling it resonate within you, you will learn to harness its full potential." Volk nodded in understanding. The explanation made sense. He was grateful he hadn''t asked the question aloud, as it was clear that this was something the orcs valued deeply¡ªa rite of passage that each warrior had to experience for themselves. With the veil now in place, the group moved forward, the landscape around them changing as they ventured deeper into the forest. "Horde!" The leader shouted, "March!" he added. The trees here were unlike anything Volk had ever seen before¡ªtall and imposing, their leaves a vibrant, almost unnatural green. The air was thick with the scent of earth and foliage, the magic particles that filled the atmosphere making the entire forest shimmer with an eerie glow. As they walked, one of the armored orcs turned to the group and spoke. "These trees are green, greener than any you have seen before. This is the result of the hazardous magic particles that saturate this land. These particles are what give the trees their unnatural color, their strength. Only the Wood Elves can survive in a place like this, for they are born of the forest, their bodies attuned to the magic that flows through these lands. For us, this place is deadly without the veil." Volk marveled at the sight before him. The trees seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky, their branches intertwining to form a dense canopy overhead. The ground was covered in a thick carpet of moss and leaves, the green so deep it almost seemed black in the dim light that filtered through the foliage. The air was heavy with the magic that permeated the forest, a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked in these lands. Suddenly, the armored orcs stopped again, signaling the group to halt. Volk tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon. Ahead of them, the forest opened up into a small clearing, and within it was a sight that made Volk''s blood run cold. A group of wild boars, their massive bodies nearly as big as the orcs themselves, were grazing in the clearing. Their skin was a dark, mottled green, blending perfectly with the forest around them. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural, malevolent light, and Volk could see the raw power in their muscular frames. There were a few smaller boars among them, but even these were formidable, their tusks sharp and dangerous. One of the armored orcs stepped forward, his voice low but firm. "Prepare yourselves," he said, his eyes scanning the group of younger orcs. "These wild boars are not to be underestimated. This will be your warm-up before we reach the catacomb. Consider this your first real test as warriors of the horde." S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s heart raced as he looked at the boars. They were massive, their sheer size and the way their muscles rippled beneath their skin were intimidating. He could feel the tension in the air as the younger orcs around him gripped their weapons, he could see their expressions wore a mix of determination and fear. The armored orc continued, his gaze locking onto the younger orcs. "We will take down the largest of these beasts. Your task is to deal with the smaller ones. Do not underestimate them. They may be smaller, but they are just as dangerous. Work together, use what you have learned, and prove that you are worthy to stand among us." Volk swallowed hard, his grip tightening on his basher club. The weight of the task ahead of him settled in his gut, but he pushed the fear aside. This was what he had been training for, what all of them had been preparing for. He wouldn''t let his comrades down. The armored orc who had spoken earlier raised his weapon high into the air and shouted, "Lok''tar Ogar!" His voice was a battle cry, filled with the promise of blood and victory. The other armored orcs echoed the cry, their voices joining in unison. "Lok''tar Ogar!" The sound of their battle cry rang out through the forest, a call to arms that sent a shiver down Volk''s spine. The wild boars in the clearing lifted their heads, their glowing eyes locking in them. ROOARRRKK!! Chapter 29 - 29: Hazardous Warthog The battle began with a sudden ferocity that took even the seasoned warriors by surprise. The younger orcs, still green in their experience, hesitated for only a fraction of a second before they charged forward, weapons raised. But it was enough time for the wild boars to lunge, immediately their massive bodies were crashing through the underbrush with terrifying speed. "Hold your ground, Mag''Durotans!" bellowed one of the armored orcs, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Do not let them push you back! Use your hands if you can''t use your weapons properly! The hazardous magic particles are sapping your strength!" Volk barely had time to register the command before a wild boar, its tusks gleaming with a sickly green light, barreled toward him. He swung his club with all his might, the heavy weapon connecting with a dull thud against the boar''s side. The beast let out a shrill squeal of pain but didn''t slow down. It twisted its massive body, attempting to gore him with its tusks. "Keep moving, young Mag''Durotan!" shouted another armored orc from the front lines. "Don''t let them pin you down! Use your hands when your weapon fails you!" Volk felt a surge of determination rise within him. As the boar came at him again, he sidestepped the charging beast and swung his club again, in a split second, the heavy impact sent the boar crashing to the ground. Kabam! The air around him was thick, oppressive, as if the very forest were pressing down on him. He saw the other younglings faltering under the weight of the magic particles in the air, their movements becoming sluggish as their strength waned. But to Volk''s surprise, he felt¡­ fine. The oppressive atmosphere that seemed weighed so heavily on the others barely touched him. If anything, he felt a strange resistance within him, a force that kept the debilitating effects of the particles at bay. "Get to its flanks!" commanded the armored orc who had spoken before. "Their strength is in their size and momentum! Don''t face them head-on¡ªmove to their sides and strike where they''re weakest!" Volk nodded, though he wasn''t sure if the orc could see him. He focused on the boar, trying to remember his training. He feinted to the left, drawing the beast''s attention, then quickly shifted to the right, bringing his club down hard on its hind leg. The boar stumbled, and Volk seized the opportunity, swinging his club again and again until the beast collapsed to the ground. But there was no time to celebrate his small victory. Another boar was already charging toward him, and he could hear the shouts and cries of his fellow younglings as they struggled against the relentless assault. "Watch your flanks, damn it!" roared another armored orc, his voice filled with frustration. "You''re not in this alone! Support each other, Mag''Durotans! Don''t get separated!" Volk gritted his teeth, trying to keep the armored orc''s advice in mind as he ducked and weaved through the chaos. He noticed the way the others faltered, their movements becoming sluggish as their energy was drained by the magical particles. But he felt no such weakness. It was as if the magic particles, which affected everyone else so severely, simply passed over him without consequence. He felt strong, focused, his movements as quick and precise as ever. A young orc near Volk was knocked to the ground by a particularly vicious boar, and Volk barely managed to pull him out of the way before the beast could finish him off. The young orc looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes, his hands trembling as he tried to get back to his feet. "Get up!" Volk shouted, grabbing the orc by the arm and hauling him to his feet. "We don''t have time for fear! Fight, damn it!" The young orc nodded, swallowing hard as he picked up his weapon and rejoined the fray. Volk turned his attention back to his own fight, trying to ignore the burning in his muscles as he swung his club at another boar. "Keep moving!" came another shout from the armored orcs, their voices a constant presence in the battle. "Don''t let them corner you! If you stop, you''re dead!" Volk could feel the truth of their words in every aching muscle. The boars were relentless, their sheer size and strength overwhelming the younger orcs. For every beast they brought down, two more seemed to take its place. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat, and the ground was slick with mud and gore. But despite the overwhelming odds, Volk was surprised to find that he wasn''t weakening as much as the others. Or maybe the magic particles were affecting him, yes, but not to the extent that they were draining the strength of his comrades. He didn''t have time to dwell on the why of it, but he could see the looks of confusion and surprise on the faces of the older orcs whenever they glanced in his direction. "Why isn''t that young Mag''Durotan weakening?" one of the armored orcs muttered, his voice just loud enough for Volk to catch as he swung his club at another boar. "He should be on his last legs by now¡­" "Focus on the fight!" snapped another armored orc. "We can figure out why later¡ªright now, we need to survive!" The battle raged on, the young orcs struggling to keep up with the unrelenting assault. Volk rolled out of the way of a charging boar, coming up on his feet just in time to bash it across the head with his club. The beast staggered, but it didn''t go down. "Get its legs, Volk!" shouted an armored orc, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. "Take out its legs and it''ll go down!" Volk did as he was told, immediately his club connected with the beast''s front leg with a sickening crunch. The boar let out a pained squeal, collapsing to the ground, but even as it fell, it lashed out with its tusks, catching Volk across the chest. He stumbled back, the breath knocked out of him, but he didn''t go down. He felt the sharp pain where the tusks had struck him, but it only fueled his determination further. "Don''t stop!" the armored orc yelled, his voice a mixture of encouragement and command. "If you fall now, you won''t get back up!" Volk nodded grimly, pushing through the pain as he brought his club down on the boar''s head, finally ending its struggle. He didn''t have time to catch his breath before another boar was on him, and he could hear the shouts of the other younglings as they fought their own battles. The ground was littered with the bodies of fallen boars, but there were still more of them, their glowing eyes filled with a malevolent intelligence that sent a chill down Volk''s spine. He could feel the fatigue setting in, the magic particles gnawing at his strength, but he refused to give in. "Remember your training!" shouted an armored orc as he decapitated a boar with a swift swing of his massive axe. "We trained you for this! Stay focused, stay alive!" Volk tried to do just that, his mind racing as he fought off yet another boar. The beasts were relentless, their sheer numbers threatening to overwhelm the younger orcs despite the best efforts of the armored veterans. And then, suddenly, something changed. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The boars, as one, stopped their assault. The clearing fell eerily silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the orcs and the rustling of leaves in the wind. The boars turned as one, immediately their glowing eyes fixed on something in the distance. Volk followed their gaze, ignoring his breath catching in his throat as he saw what had captured their attention. Emerging from the shadows of the forest was a creature unlike any hazardous boars around. It was massive, easily twice the size of the largest boar they had encountered. Its skin was a mottled green, almost black in places, and its tusks were long and jagged, curving wickedly upward. Its eyes glowed with a sickly green light, and a deep, guttural growl rumbled from its throat as it surveyed the battlefield. One of the armored orcs, with a voice trembling in fear, spoke in a hushed tone. "It''s a Hazardous Warthog¡­ Everyone, stay still." Volk could feel the fear in the air, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. The armored orc continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do not move. Do not even breathe if you can help it. This creature is beyond us. Even with our Grum-gar form, we are no match for it. It hunts those who are cleaner or untainted by the hazardous magic. If it sees us, it will attack." But it was too late. The Hazardous Warthog''s eyes locked onto Volk, and in that instant, Volk knew there was no escaping it. The beast let out a deafening roar that shook the very ground beneath their feet, and then, with terrifying speed, it charged directly at him. "Run!" one of the armored orcs shouted, but Volk couldn''t move. His legs felt like they were made of lead, his heart pounding in his chest as the beast bore down on him. There was no time to think, no time to react. All he could do was close his eyes and brace himself for the impact that was sure to come. Chapter 30 - 30: Labor Orcs curse Volk braced himself for the impact, expecting to be thrown aside or crushed beneath the enormous tusks of the Hazardous Warthog. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action, but instead of the anticipated force, he felt something else¡ªa warm, gentle whoosh of breath washing over his face. Confused, he kept his eyes shut tight, heart pounding in his chest like a drum thud thud thud. When nothing happened after several heartbeats, he cautiously opened one eye. To his shock, he found himself staring directly into a massive nostril, mere inches from his face. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Warthog was sniffing him, its breath warm and surprisingly gentle. Volk''s jaw dropped with a quiet clack, and his breath caught in his throat. "Eh?" The absurdity of the situation hit him all at once¡ªhere he was, face to face with a beast that was supposed to be one of the most dangerous creatures in this cursed forest, and it was¡­ smelling him? Volk''s mind raced. "What¡­ is happening?" he muttered to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. His heart pounded thud thud thud as he struggled to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. The Warthog''s eyes, glowing with that eerie green light, seemed to study him with something that resembled curiosity¡ªor was it pity? The massive beast tilted its head slightly and nudged Volk gently with its snout. The touch was delicate, almost tender, as though the creature was afraid of hurting him. Volk''s heart skipped a beat, and his body tensed involuntarily, but the Warthog made no move to harm him. It merely continued to inspect him, as if it were trying to puzzle out why he was different from the other orcs. Volk''s confusion deepened as the Warthog continued its strange behavior. It circled him slowly, its massive bulk moving with an unexpected grace. The beast''s nose brushed against Volk''s chest swish, then his shoulders swish, then his arms, as if it were checking for something. Each touch was light, almost reverent, as though the Warthog was handling something fragile. At one point, the Warthog pressed its snout against Volk''s side and released a deep, rumbling breath grrrh that shook his entire body. Volk felt the vibration travel through his bones vrrrr, leaving a strange, tingling sensation in its wake. He could feel the Warthog''s breath on his skin, warm and steady, as it continued its bizarre inspection. It then nudged Volk''s leg, as if testing his stability. Shook! Volk stumbled slightly, but the Warthog didn''t react aggressively. Instead, it pulled back, looking at him with those glowing eyes filled with¡­ pity? Yes, Volk realized with a jolt, there was unmistakable pity in the Warthog''s gaze, as though it saw him as something weak and fragile, something in need of protection. Volk could hardly believe what was happening. "Is this really happening?" He mumbled. This creature, this monstrous beast that was supposed to be the most hazardous¡ªno, the most pitiful and weak¡ªcreature in the forest, was treating him with a gentleness that was completely out of character for its fearsome appearance. It even nudged his hand, as if encouraging him to touch it. Volk hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out. His fingers brushed against the rough, bristly hair on the Warthog''s snout shhhh. The beast closed its eyes, seeming to enjoy the touch. Around him, Volk could hear the gasps and murmurs of the other orcs gasp gasp, both the younglings and the older, bone-armored warriors. Their faces were a mixture of shock and disbelief, their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open. Some of them looked like they had just witnessed a miracle, while others seemed unable to process what they were seeing. The expressions on their faces were so exaggerated that Volk might have laughed if he hadn''t been so bewildered himself. The Warthog, meanwhile, continued its inspection, circling Volk one last time before stopping in front of him again. It sniffed at his hair, its breath ruffling the strands whoosh whoosh, then released a soft, almost contented grunt hrmph. The beast''s eyes softened even further, the pity in them almost painful to see. Then, without warning, the Warthog turned and lumbered away, its massive hooves thud thud echoing through the forest floor as it disappeared into the dense foliage as if it had simply lost interest. For several long moments, the forest was silent. The orcs around Volk remained frozen in place, their eyes still locked on the spot where the Warthog had stood. Volk felt his heart slowly return to a more normal rhythm, but his mind was still racing, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. "What¡­ just happened?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He looked around at the other orcs, hoping for some kind of explanation, but all he saw were their stunned faces, their eyes still wide with disbelief. The bone-armored orcs, veterans of countless battles and hardships, were staring at him as though he were something otherworldly. One of them, an older orc with deep-set scars and weary eyes, finally snapped out of his stupor and barked an order. "Mag''Durotans, forward!" His voice was sharp, but Volk could hear the tremor in it, as if the orc couldn''t quite believe what had just happened. The younger orcs hesitated for a moment before they began to move, their steps slow and uncertain. Volk remained where he was, his mind still struggling to process the encounter. As the others moved past him, one of the bone-armored orcs approached him, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and something Volk couldn''t quite identify. "Young Mag''Durotan," the orc began, his voice low and cautious. "Who are you?" Volk blinked, the question pulling him out of his daze. "I''m Volk Mog''ger," he replied, the words feeling strange in his mouth after what had just occurred. "The current Kaz''rogal of this year." The orc stared at him for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. "Current Kaz''rogal?" He asked before contemplating, "I see¡­ I heard the current one was a Labor Orc. No wonder the Hazardous Warthog didn''t attack you." Volk frowned, still confused. "Why?" he asked respectfully, his tone polite despite the whirlwind of questions in his mind. "What is that Warthog? Why it didn''t attack me?" The orc sighed, looking out at the forest with a distant gaze. "The Hazardous Warthog," he began slowly, "is a creature that is considered the strongest among magical beasts in this land. This is because it is filled with hazardous magic particles compared to others, which make it more dangerous and stronger. These particles, though dangerous to others, are the Warthog''s power. This forest is its domain, where it lords over creatures even weaker than itself." Volk listened intently as the orc continued, his voice taking on a tone of grim resignation. "The Warthog despises those who are weaker or who don''t have hazardous magic particles, or those who aren''t burdened by the hazardous magic. It sees them as nothing but a consumable existence, and it will often attack them out of spite, as if to prove it''s the strongest there is. But for those who are even more affected by it, even weaker than itself, it feels like a strange kinship. It treats them as more talented than itself, and if you grow to your peak, that''s when it would only attack! To beat you! To prove that it''s mightier than you." The explanation left Volk speechless. He had never imagined that such a creature could exist, one that was simultaneously so dangerous yet so... arrogant. The orc''s words painted a picture of a beast that was desperate to assert its strength in a world where it was inherently fragile, a contradiction that Volk found difficult to grasp. The bone-armored orc placed a heavy hand on Volk''s shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. "You, Volk Mog''ger, must carry a burden even greater than the Warthog''s. That is why it spared you. It saw in you a potential enemy, one who can endure the same or more hazardous magic particles as the warthog himself." Volk didn''t know how to respond. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of which seemed to settle. He looked up at the orc, searching for answers, but all he could manage was a weak, "I¡­ I see." The older orc nodded, his expression softening slightly. "You have much to learn about this world, Volk Mog''ger. But know this¡ªyou are not alone in your struggle." There was a long silence, broken only by the rustling of the leaves above them rustle rustle. Volk felt the weight of the orc''s words settle heavily on his shoulders, a responsibility he hadn''t anticipated but could not ignore. He took a deep breath inhale, trying to steady himself, but before he could speak, the orc''s voice cut through the quiet. "Are you familiar with the Labor Orc curse?" the orc asked, his tone serious. Volk looked up, his confusion returning. "No," he replied slowly, unsure of what this new revelation would bring. "What is it?" Chapter 31 - 31: Curse information The march through the dense, verdant forest was steady, and the sound of their heavy boots and the occasional clank of armor were echoing through the trees occasionally. Volk found himself walking beside the bone-armored orc who had approached him earlier. This orc, unlike the others, seemed particularly interested in Volk, his gaze thoughtful as they moved forward. Finally, the orc broke the silence, his deep voice filled with pride. "I am Grommash, known as Grommash the Great Hunter. My title is well-earned, for I have hunted and slain beasts that would turn the stomachs of lesser orcs. My arrows have found the hearts of creatures that would make even the bravest warriors tremble." Volk nodded, acknowledging Grommash''s introduction. He was keenly aware of the orc''s prowess, evident in the way he carried himself and the respect he commanded from the others. Grommash''s eyes, however, were not filled with the usual condescension Volk had become accustomed to. Instead, there was a strange mixture of curiosity and something close to pity. As they marched, Grommash began to speak again, his voice lowering slightly as he broached a more serious topic. "You have heard of the Labor Orc curse, yes? Right?" Volk nodded, but Grommash continued, as if compelled to explain in more detail. "Long ago, all orcs were warriors, fierce and proud. Our ancestors fought with unmatched strength and courage. But as time passed, some among us began to consume food tainted with hazardous magic particles. These particles, though not immediately fatal, had a slow and insidious effect on our people." Volk listened intently, his mind recalling the memories of the Labor Orc that he occupied, but Grommash''s account was more detailed, more vivid. "The food, rich in hazardous magic particles, began to weaken our bodies over generations. Those who consumed it became less robust, less fierce. They lost their desire for battle, their bodies unable to withstand the rigors of combat. These orcs became what we now know as Labor Orcs." Grommash''s voice was heavy with the weight of history as he continued, "Labor Orcs are a shadow of what they could have been. They are much weaker than the warrior orcs, unable to fight, only capable of working for the rest of their lives. They lack the fire that drives us, the desire to breed and carry on the bloodline. Worse yet, they are sterile¡ªunable to produce offspring unless certain conditions are met. They are born to toil and die in obscurity." Volk felt a pang of sadness as he listened. He had always known about the curse, but hearing it laid out so plainly, with such stark honesty, made it all the more real. He nodded, signaling to Grommash that he understood. But the Great Hunter wasn''t done. "Even in their Grum-gar form," Grommash said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "Labor Orcs are weak. The Grum-gar form is supposed to be the ultimate expression of an orc''s power, a transformation that grants us the strength of the ancients. But for a Labor Orc, it is a pale imitation." Grommash explained further, his words deliberate and slow, as though he was choosing each one carefully. "A normal warrior orc, when in their Grum-gar form, can strengthen themselves up to five times over. This is the mark of a true warrior, to tap into the power that runs deep in our blood. But a Labor Orc¡­ they can only manage to double their strength. Even this is a rarity among them. It is a pale shadow of what should be. In the neighboring clan, there are still some who can manage fivefold transformations, but they live in seclusion, their strength too precious to be risked in battle." Volk''s mind raced as he absorbed this information. He had never fully understood the limitations of the Labor Orcs especially his own, but now it was clear. If he could only strengthen himself twice in his Grum-gar form, then his arsenal in combat was severely limited. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Am I really limited in combat? Is that why even though when I introduced myself as a Kaz''rogal, they didn''t find it that much special?" He mumbled. This realization struck him hard, like a cold stone of dread settling in his gut. He felt powerless. Back when he fought Luk''Tar, he only got strengthened twice, and nothing more than that. If he can only truly strengthen twice, doesn''t that mean he will still be considered weak? Grommash continued, his tone growing even more serious. "There''s more. The Labor Orcs, once they miss the ceremony of Union to the elves, lose the ability to breed forever. Even if they manage to participate, they can only produce offspring with one female elf. No others." Volk knew this already, and the mention of it stirred memories of his own struggles. He had nearly missed his chance to wed Solluha''r because of Luk''Tar, the thief who had stolen his earth mole kill. That near-miss could have cost him everything. The reminder sent a shiver down his spine. Grommash''s words cut through his thoughts like a blade. "This is why we pity you, Volk Mog''ger. The curse is not just about weakness. It is about loss¡ªof strength, of heritage, of potential. Even your children, if they inherit your Grum-gar form, will be weak. Though they might awaken the power, it will be a faint echo of what it should be." Volk felt a deep ache in his chest at the thought. His children cursed before they were even born. And yet, Grommash offered a sliver of hope. "But take heart, Volk Mog''ger. Despite all this, you are different. Your rise to the position of Kaz''rogal is proof of your strength. You will grow, perhaps not in the way others do, but in your own way. Your Labor Orc blood will make you more efficient than others, and your rise to power will be swift. You may not be able to multiply your strength fivefold, but what you can do with your twofold strength will be unmatched." Volk struggled to process this. "Is that really it?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. "Am I truly so limited in combat?" Grommash paused, his expression unreadable. "Yes and no. Your strength may be capped at twice what it could be, but your mind, your tactics, your ingenuity¡ªthese are where you will excel. A warrior is not just muscle and bone. It is also the mind and heart. You will find your own path, Volk Mog''ger." Volk would think this is just a consultation to make him feel at ease, but it''s not helping him. Still, to look polite, he nodded, while still reeling from the weight of Grommash''s words. Immediately after that, his thoughts swirled, questions bubbling up, but before he could voice them, a loud, commanding voice cut through their conversation. "Mag''Durotan, Haaaaaaalt!" The order was immediate, and the entire company of orcs came to a sudden stop. The forest, which had been filled with the steady rhythm of their march, now fell into an eerie silence. Volk could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of what was to come. "Formation!" The voice rang out again, this time closer, more insistent. The orcs began to move, falling into practiced ranks with military precision. The younglings, including Volk, quickly fell into place, their hearts pounding in unison with the drumbeat of war that seemed to echo in the distance. Volk''s mind was still racing with the conversation he''d just had with Grommash, but he forced himself to focus. This was no time for introspection. He didn''t know what happened, but it seemed like something came up. Chapter 32 - 32: Dreadmaw Clan The dense, ancient forest seemed to close in around them as Volk and the other young orcs continued their march. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Every step forward felt heavier, as if the ground itself was trying to slow them down. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a distant, thunderous roars that rolled through the trees like a wave. The young orcs froze in place, their eyes wide with confusion and a hint of fear. They exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what the sound meant. Even Volk, who hadn''t many unknowns in this strange new world, felt a shiver run down his spine. The roars were unlike anything he had ever heard¡ªa deep, primal sound that stirred something ancient and instinctual within them. One of the bone-armored orcs, standing at the front of the group, turned to address the younglings. His voice was calm but carried the weight of authority. "Listen up, young Mag''Durotans," he began, his tone brooking no argument. "What you just heard is the sound of battle, far off but close enough to matter. We are near the catacombs, a place where many clans converge, including ours¡ªthe Dreadmaw Clan. Those roars you hear are the battle cries of our brothers and sisters, chosen as representatives to fight for the honor of our clan." Volk and the others leaned in, their attention fully captured. The armored orc continued, his voice taking on a storyteller''s cadence, as if recounting an old legend. "The catacombs are sacred grounds, places of power and mystery. When we draw near, it is tradition that the clans send their strongest young warriors to fight. The victors earn the right to enter the catacombs first, securing their place in the trials ahead. It''s a battle not just of strength, but of skill, wit, and determination. Those who prevail are seen as worthy in the eyes of our ancestors." The explanation was long and detailed, but none of the young orcs minded. They were spellbound, hanging on to every word. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, somehow his blood pumping with an unknown excitement. He could picture the scene the armored orc was describing¡ªyoung orcs, not much older than himself, locked in fierce combat. As the armored orc''s words sank in, one of the younglings, a smaller orc with a curious expression, raised his hand. "But what is a catacomb, exactly?" The armored orc nodded, clearly expecting the question. "Ah, a wise question, young one. The catacombs¡­ they are more than just caves. They are ancient places, steeped in magic and mystery. When you enter a catacomb, you are stepping into the unknown. It''s said that the catacombs are not of this world, or perhaps they are, but they exist on the edge of our reality. When you pass through their gates, you could be transported anywhere." He paused for effect, letting the weight of his words settle on the young orcs. "Some who enter find themselves in a simple cave, dark and silent, where they must rely on their senses and courage to navigate. In these places, you may travel together, relying on each other''s strength. But the catacombs are unpredictable. At times, they will pull you apart, sending each orc to a different place¡ªalone, separated from their kin, forced to face whatever lies ahead without support." Volk felt a chill at the thought of being alone in such a place, cut off from his companions. The armored orc''s voice grew even more serious as he continued. "Some of the catacombs are filled with traps, ancient mechanisms designed to test the unwary. Others are labyrinths, twisting and turning, leading you deeper and deeper until you are hopelessly lost. And then there are those that are alive, where the very walls seem to move, where shadows play tricks on your mind, and the echoes of your footsteps seem to come from all directions at once." The young orcs were silent, their minds racing with the images conjured by the armored orc''s words. Volk could almost see it¡ªthe twisting tunnels, the shifting walls, the traps waiting to spring. He felt a mix of fear and excitement, his warrior''s spirit rising to the challenge even as his rational mind balked at the dangers. The armored orc''s voice dropped to a near whisper, forcing the young orcs to lean in even closer. "And then there are the portals. Sometimes, the catacombs will open up a portal, a doorway to a place beyond our world. Those who step through may find themselves in a land of fire and ash, or a realm of eternal night, where the stars never shine and the air is thick with the scent of death. Only the strongest, the wisest, can navigate these places and return." Another roar echoed through the forest, louder this time, pulling the young orcs back to the present. But this time, the bone-armored orc leading them did not raise a war cry in response. Instead, a heavy silence fell over the group, the absence of the expected shout a bad omen. They stood there for what felt like an eternity, the tension mounting with every passing second. Then, finally, the order came. "March!" The bone-armored orcs barked out commands, and the group began to move again, their pace quickening as they made their way through the thick underbrush. As they walked, Volk couldn''t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his gut. The roars in the distance had stopped. However, omething wasn''t right. He could feel it in his bones, a sense of foreboding that grew stronger with each step. The armored orcs continued to shout commands, their voices carrying through the trees. "Keep your formation tight! Eyes forward! Watch your footing!" The young orcs obeyed without question, their focus sharpened by the tension in the air. Volk found himself near the back of the group, his mind racing as he tried to process everything he had just learned. The catacombs sounded like a place of endless danger and uncertainty, a true test of an orc''s mettle. But there was something else bothering him, something that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Suddenly, he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, as if he were being watched. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the ranks of young orcs marching beside him. That''s when he saw it¡ªan orc, not far from him, staring directly at him with a look of pure animosity. The orc''s eyes were dark, his expression twisted with anger and hatred. Volk didn''t recognize him, but the intensity of the orc''s gaze sent a shiver down his spine. There was no mistaking the hostility in those eyes¡ªthis orc saw Volk as an enemy. Volk quickly looked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn''t know why this orc was targeting him, but he could feel the weight of that stare burning into his back. He forced himself to focus on the march, on the commands being shouted by the armored orcs, but the feeling of unease lingered, like a shadow that refused to be shaken. As they continued their march, the cave entrance finally came into view¡ªa dark, gaping maw in the side of a rocky hill, shrouded in mist and shadows. The bone-armored orcs stopped just outside, their eyes scanning the group of younglings. "Form up!" one of the armored orcs shouted. The young orcs quickly fell into line, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. Volk took his place in the formation, trying to push aside the feeling of dread that had settled over him. The entrance to the cave loomed before them, dark and foreboding. The mist that clung to the ground seemed to swirl with a life of its own, as if beckoning them to step inside. Volk swallowed hard, his mouth dry as he stared into the darkness. The bone-armored orc at the front of the group turned to address them one last time. "This is it, young Mag''Durotans. The catacombs await. Remember what I''ve told you. Stay together if you can, but be prepared to face whatever lies within on your own. Trust in your strength, trust in your wits, and you may just survive." With that, he raised his hand, signaling them to move forward. The young orcs took a deep breath and stepped into the darkness. As Volk stepped into the cave, the feeling of animosity from the orc who had been watching him returned, stronger than ever. He didn''t dare look back, but he could feel those eyes boring into him, filled with a hatred he couldn''t understand. But there was no time to dwell on it now. The catacombs were ahead, and whatever awaited them inside would demand his full attention. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was inside, and plunged into the darkness. Chapter 33 - 33: GrokThar The cold, damp air of the cave clung to Volk''s skin like a second layer. The walls of the cave were rough and jagged, as if they had been carved out by some ancient force of nature. Sharp, angular rocks jutted out from the walls at odd angles, and the floor was uneven, strewn with loose stones that crunched underfoot. The ceiling was high, disappearing into shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. Here and there, thin stalactites hung from the ceiling like the fangs of some great beast, dripping water into small pools that had formed on the cave floor. The sound of the water dripping echoed through the cave, creating a haunting rhythm that seemed to pulse in time with Volk''s heartbeat. As Volk made his way deeper into the cave, he kept his senses alert. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The darkness pressed in around him, but his eyes had begun to adjust, allowing him to make out the faint outlines of the cave''s interior. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something else¡ªsomething ancient and musty, like the smell of old bones. Every now and then, he could hear a distant rumble, as if the cave itself was alive, shifting and groaning in its sleep. Suddenly, Volk heard a soft rustling sound from up ahead. His muscles tensed, and he raised his club, ready to strike. But before he could make a move, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows¡ªa young orc he recognized from earlier, the one he had helped during the battle with the hazardous boars. The orc''s face lit up with recognition as he saw Volk. "Volk!" the orc exclaimed, his voice echoing through the cave. "It''s you! I wasn''t sure if I''d run into you again in this place." Volk lowered his club, relief flooding through him. "It''s good to see a friendly face," he said, offering a nod of greeting. "I didn''t expect to find anyone so soon." The orc approached Volk, his posture respectful. "I am Grok''Thar, Bone Cleaner of the Dreadmaw Clan. And the one I serve is Thrash''Kull, our clan''s great warrior." Grok''Thar paused, then added with a hint of gratitude, "I wanted to thank you, Volk. If you hadn''t helped me earlier, I might not be standing here right now." Volk shrugged, trying to downplay his role. "You would''ve done the same for me, I''m sure. We''re all in this together. By the way, your name sounds like Grak''thor." Grok''Thar smiled, a rare expression of warmth from an orc, and nodded. "Yeah, my name is after him, he saved my mother¡­ But still, I owe you. Perhaps we can stick together in this place. It''s safer that way." Volk considered the offer for a moment, then nodded. "Agreed. This place is dangerous enough without being alone." As they began to walk together, their footsteps echoing softly in the cave, Grok''Thar glanced around, his eyes scanning the dark corners warily. "We were the last to enter the catacombs," he said, his voice hushed. "Most of the other clans were already inside before us. That''s why it''s been so quiet." Volk looked at Grok''Thar, curious. "How many clans are there? I''ve only ever really known our Dreadmaw Clan." Grok''Thar''s brow furrowed in thought. "There are eight clans in total. Let''s see¡­ there''s the Bloodfang Clan, fierce and proud. Their warriors are known for their brutality in battle. Then there''s the Ironhide Clan¡ªthey''re tougher than stone, and their skin is as hard as iron, making them almost impossible to wound." Volk nodded, listening intently as Grok''Thar continued. "Next is the Thunderstrike Clan, known for their speed and agility. They move like lightning on the battlefield, striking fast and hard. The Stonefist Clan is another¡ªmassive brutes who can crush bones with a single blow. Their strength is unmatched, but they''re not the quickest." Grok''Thar hesitated for a moment before going on. "The Shadowclaw Clan¡­ They''re the ones you never see coming. They move in the shadows, silent and deadly. They''re the most feared assassins among the clans. Then there''s the Fireblood Clan, known for their fiery temper and their affinity with flame magic. They''re dangerous, especially in close quarters." He paused again, thinking. "Finally, there''s the Frostbite Clan, cold and calculating. Their warriors are like ice¡ªcalm, unyielding, and merciless. And of course, our own Dreadmaw Clan, the hunters. We''re known for our resilience and our ability to track and survive in the harshest conditions." Volk absorbed the information, his mind racing as he imagined the other clans and their warriors. "Do you know how many of them are here in this catacomb?" he asked, a note of concern in his voice. Grok''Thar shook his head. "I''m not sure. We were the last to enter, so there could be any number of them already inside. But it''s best to assume that we''re not alone." As they continued to walk, a sudden movement in the shadows caught Volk''s eye. He tensed, ready for a fight, but before he could react, the creature darted away, disappearing into the darkness. Grok''Thar frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What was that?" he asked, glancing at Volk. Volk lowered his club, equally puzzled. "I''m not sure¡­ It looked like some kind of creature, but it didn''t attack. It just ran." Grok''Thar''s eyes widened as a thought struck him. "Wait¡­ could it be because of the hazardous magic particles in your body?" He looked at Volk with a mix of realization and surprise. "Creatures that are more hazardous or weaker than you might be instinctively avoiding you, sensing the power within you." Volk blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "Oh?" he murmured, more to himself than to Grok''Thar. Grok''Thar nodded, his voice thoughtful. "It makes sense. If these creatures are sensitive to hazardous magic particles, they might see you as a threat. That could work in our favor, Volk. We don''t necessarily need to kill these monsters¡ªthey''re not worth the effort. Their cores aren''t fully formed, so they can''t be turned into crystals yet. What we''re really after are the magic crystals that have grown over time from the remains of dead monsters. Those are what we need." Volk considered Grok''Thar''s words, his mind racing. If these creatures were avoiding him because of the hazardous magic particles, then they could potentially navigate the catacombs without having to fight every monster they encountered. It was a strange thought, but one that could prove to be a valuable advantage. As they moved deeper into the cave, they encountered several more creatures¡ªsmall, shadowy figures that skittered away as soon as they sensed Volk''s presence. Each time, Grok''Thar would glance at Volk with a knowing look, his earlier theory seemingly confirmed. "See?" Grok''Thar whispered after the third encounter. "They''re avoiding you. We might just have an easier time in here than the others." Volk didn''t respond immediately, his thoughts focused on the strange sensation that was slowly building within him. It was like a tug, a subtle pull from deep within the cave, drawing him in a specific direction. He couldn''t explain it, but the feeling was growing stronger with each step they took. Suddenly, Volk stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on a tunnel branching off to the right. Grok''Thar noticed and turned to him, his expression curious. "What is it?" Volk frowned, trying to put the sensation into words. "I¡­ I feel something. A strong hunch, like I''m being pulled towards that tunnel." Grok''Thar raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the tunnel Volk was indicating. "A hunch? Could it be something to do with the hazardous magic particles? Maybe there''s something down there that''s connected to it." Volk nodded, still feeling the strange pull. "I don''t know, but I think we should check it out. Whatever it is, it feels¡­ important." Grok''Thar considered for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Alright, Volk. Lead the way. If you''re being drawn to something, it might be worth investigating." With Grok''Thar following closely behind, Volk cautiously entered the tunnel. The air grew colder as they ventured further in, the walls narrowing around them. The tugging sensation in Volk''s chest grew stronger, more insistent, guiding him deeper into the darkness. He didn''t know what awaited them, but he couldn''t shake the feeling that they were about to uncover something significant¡ªsomething that could change everything. Chapter 34 - 34: LhumBaggar The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, the air growing colder with each step Volk and Grok''Thar took. The walls closed in, narrowing to a point where they had to walk single file. The strange tugging sensation within Volk''s chest persisted, guiding him forward with an intensity that made him quicken his pace. Grok''Thar kept close behind, his eyes darting around, ever watchful for any sign of danger. The silence was heavy, broken only by their footsteps echoing through the narrow passage. Just as Volk felt the tension reaching its peak, the tunnel suddenly widened, opening into a larger chamber. The space was dimly lit by the faint, eerie glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the walls, casting long shadows across the uneven floor. And there, in the center of the chamber, stood a group of orcs¡ªeight of them, each adorned with the unmistakable bone maws of creatures they had slain, trophies of their prowess in battle. The orcs were tall, broad-shouldered, and intimidating, their muscles rippling beneath the layers of armor and furs they wore. Their faces were painted with the war symbols of the Dreadmaw Clan, their eyes gleaming with the fierce determination that marked them as true warriors. They turned as one when Volk and Grok''Thar entered, their gazes sharp and appraising. Grok''Thar immediately recognized them as fellow clan members and relaxed slightly, though he kept a hand near his weapon, just in case. "Looks like we''re not alone in here after all," he muttered to Volk, who nodded in agreement. One of the orcs, a towering figure with the largest bone maw draped across his shoulders, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied Volk and Grok''Thar. "More from the Dreadmaw Clan," he rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, echoing off the cavern walls. "Who are you?" Grok''Thar stepped forward, offering a respectful nod. "I am Grok''Thar, Bone Cleaner of the Dreadmaw Clan. This is Volk, the years Kaz''rogal, also of our clan. We seek the crystals within these catacombs." The orc leader grunted, his gaze shifting to Volk. "Volk, huh? The name has reached our ears already. The one who defeated Luk''Tar, is that right?" Volk tensed slightly at the mention of Luk''Tar, but he nodded, holding the orc leader''s gaze. "Yes. I defeated him." A low murmur ran through the group of orcs, and one of them¡ªa shorter, stockier orc with a fierce expression¡ªspoke up. "We''ve been looking for a leader among us," he said, his tone measured. "And we''ve chosen Lhum''Baggar. He''s the strongest among us." At the mention of Lhum''Baggar, Volk''s eyes narrowed. The name stirred something deep within him¡ªa vague sense of unease. And then, from behind the group, a figure emerged. Lhum''Baggar was a tall orc, even taller than Volk, with thick, corded muscles and a presence that radiated authority. But there was something off about him¡ªhis eyes were closed, and his hands were crossed over his chest, as if he was blind or disinterested. Yet, despite his closed eyes, Volk could feel the animosity radiating from him. The air seemed to grow thicker, charged with an undercurrent of tension. The other orcs fell silent, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Lhum''Baggar tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear. Then, in a low, almost casual tone, he spoke. "So, you''re Volk." Volk''s grip tightened on his weapon, his heart beating faster. "Yes. I''m Volk." Lhum''Baggar''s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile, though his eyes remained closed. "Volk¡­ current Kaz''rogal, correct?" Volk felt a shiver run down his spine at the way Lhum''Baggar said his name, as if he was savoring it. "That''s right." For a long moment, Lhum''Baggar said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes. They were dark, piercing, and filled with a cold, simmering hatred. "My name is Lhum''Baggar¡­ son of Lak''Ran Durghan." The name hit Volk like a punch to the gut. He froze, his mind racing as he tried to process what he had just heard. Lak''Ran Durghan¡­ the father of Luk''Tar. And that could only mean one thing¡­ Lhum''Baggar''s smile widened, but there was no warmth in it¡ªonly malice. "Yes," he said softly. "I am the brother of Luk''Tar, the one you defeated. The one you shamed." Volk swallowed hard, his throat dry. He could feel the weight of the other orcs'' gazes on him, their eyes flicking between him and Lhum''Baggar, anticipating what would happen next. "You''re the brother of the thief?" Volk said, his voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. "You want to avenge Luk''Tar?" Lhum''Baggar uncrossed his arms, his fingers flexing as if testing the weight of an invisible weapon. "Revenge is a strong word," he said, his tone deceptively calm. "But yes¡­ I will make you pay for what you did to him." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to meet Lhum''Baggar''s gaze without flinching. "Let''s get on with it, then," he said, his voice hardening with resolve. He wasn''t about to back down, not now. But before either of them could make a move, the other orcs surged forward, placing themselves between Volk and Lhum''Baggar. "Enough!" one of them shouted, his voice authoritative. "This is not the time for settling old grudges. We''re in the catacombs, on a mission. Fighting among ourselves will only lead to disaster." Another orc, his face stern, stepped in front of Lhum''Baggar, blocking his path. "Forget the past, Lhum''Baggar. We''re all here for the same reason. The crystals, remember? We need to work together if we''re going to survive this place." The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Lhum''Baggar''s eyes flicked to the orc standing in his way, then back to Volk. For a moment, it looked as though he might disregard the others and attack anyway, but then he hesitated. "If you win, you become the leader," Lhum''Baggar said, his voice low and menacing. His gaze never left Volk, the challenge clear. The other orcs exchanged uneasy glances. They knew the risks of fighting in the catacombs, but they also knew that this conflict wasn''t going to be resolved easily. Finally, one of them sighed, stepping forward. "If you must fight, then do it. But keep it to a challenge. No Grum-gar forms. If one of you uses it, it''s an automatic loss. We can''t afford to waste our strength here." Volk hesitated, his mind racing. He had never tested his Radioactive form against another orc, let alone one as dangerous as Lhum''Baggar. But he knew that if he backed down now, it would only embolden his opponent. And besides, Lhum''Baggar had already made it clear that he wasn''t going to let this go. "No problem," Volk said, his voice firm. "Let''s get on with it." Lhum''Baggar''s lips curled into a predatory grin, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "As you wish, Volk," he said, his tone dripping with dark promise. "Let''s see who the true warrior is." The orcs around them stepped back, creating a wide circle in the center of the chamber. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the anticipation of the impending clash. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk took a deep breath, steeling himself for the fight. He knew this wasn''t just about proving his strength¡ªit was about survival, about showing that he wasn''t to be underestimated. Lhum''Baggar''s grin widened, his hands flexing at his sides. "Prepare yourself, Volk," he said, his voice a low growl. "I''ve been waiting for this moment." Volk squared his shoulders, his eyes locked on Lhum''Baggar. "So have I," he replied, his voice steady. "Let''s get on with it." Chapter 35 - 35: Receiving a beating The tension in the air was thick enough for them to taste. As the circle of orcs surrounding Volk and Lhum''Baggar began to chant, their voices rising in a crescendo of anticipation, Volk could feel his heart pounding in his chest, each beat reverberating through his entire body. Fight! Fight! Fight! The two agree in combat, they could only comply. The stakes were high, and every orc present knew it. This was more than just a fight¡ªit was a battle of pride, strength, and survival. Lhum''Baggar''s eyes were cold, calculating. He slowly unclenched his fists, the muscles in his arms bulging as he took a deep breath. "To make this fair," he began, his voice dripping with condescension, "I''ll lower my Brute Mending Force to the level of a three Mag''Durotan. After all, you''re just a Labor Orc. No need to make this unfair, right?" Volk felt a spark of anger flare within him, but he kept his expression neutral, only allowing a small, fearless grin to curl his lips. "Yeah, a Labor Orc who thrashed your little brother," he shot back, his tone mocking. "And now big brother''s here to rescue him. How touching." Lhum''Baggar''s expression remained stony, unfazed by Volk''s taunt. Instead, he merely nodded, his muscles flexing and tightening as he focused his energy, clearly preparing himself for the fight. The transformation was subtle but powerful; his already imposing physique seemed to become smaller, for their eyes however, it seemed to grow even more formidable as the Brute Mending Force took hold. "Alright," Lhum''Baggar exhaled, his voice calm but deadly serious. "Let''s fight." Volk rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms out to prepare himself. The adrenaline coursing through his veins sharpened his focus, the weight of the upcoming fight pushing everything else to the back of his mind. "Let''s go," he responded, his voice steady and resolute. The surrounding orcs, now fully invested in the battle that was about to unfold, began to pound their chests in a rhythmic beat, the sound growing louder and more intense with each passing second. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Fight! Fight! Fight!" they chanted, their voices echoing through the cavernous chamber, filling it with an almost tangible energy. And then, without any further warning, the battle began. Lhum''Baggar moved first, closing the distance between them with a speed that belied his massive size. His fist shot out, a blur of motion aimed directly at Volk''s head. Swoosh! Volk barely managed to dodge, feeling the air rush past his face as Lhum''Baggar''s fist narrowly missed its target. But the next punch came faster, and before Volk could react, it slammed into his ribs with the force of a battering ram, sending him staggering back, the breath knocked out of him. Kabag! The pain was immediate and intense, but Volk gritted his teeth, refusing to show any sign of weakness. He quickly regained his footing, shifting his stance as Lhum''Baggar came at him again, this time with a flurry of blows that seemed impossible to block or dodge. Volk did his best, using every trick he had learned, every unorthodox technique he had developed, but it was clear that Lhum''Baggar''s strength and speed were on a different level. Blow after blow rained down on Volk¡ªpunches, kicks, brutal strikes that sent shockwaves of pain through his body. He could feel his muscles straining, his bones creaking under the relentless assault. Every time he tried to counterattack, Lhum''Baggar was already there, blocking or dodging with a fluidity that made him seem almost untouchable. Volk was fighting to survive, every move he made driven by pure instinct. He was bleeding from his mouth, his nose, his body covered in bruises and cuts, but he refused to give up. He could see the looks of concern and fear on the faces of the orcs watching, but he knew he couldn''t afford to think about them. All that mattered was the fight. And yet, as the pain grew more intense, as his vision started to blur from the relentless pounding, Volk''s mind began to drift. He found himself transported back to his past life, back to a time when he was weak, helpless, and trapped in a body that had betrayed him from the moment he was born. He was back in his childhood home, lying in a bed that had become his prison. His body had been small, frail, with limbs that barely functioned. Volk remembered the frustration, the anger, the deep, gnawing sense of inadequacy as he watched others do things he could only dream of¡ªrunning, jumping, fighting. Things that had been impossible for him. He had spent his days watching others live the life he could never have, his only solace found in books, games, and the internet. He had become a student of combat, devouring every bit of information he could find about martial arts, tactics, anything that could make him feel like he was a part of that world, even if only in his mind. He had trained his mind, sharpening it, preparing himself for a life he would never get to live. But despite the limitations of his body, Volk had never given up. He had refused to let weakness define him, refused to accept that this was all there was for him. He had fought, in his own way, against the unfairness of it all. And now, in this new body, in this new world, he had been given a second chance. A chance to be strong, to fight, to live the life he had always dreamed of. And Volk wasn''t about to let that chance slip away. Volk''s mind snapped back to the present as Lhum''Baggar landed a particularly vicious blow to his side, making him gasp in pain. But even as he stumbled, his vision blurring, Volk''s determination only grew stronger. He wasn''t just fighting Lhum''Baggar¡ªhe was fighting the memories of his past life, fighting the weakness that had haunted him for so long. With a grunt of effort, Volk dodged the next punch, using the momentum to deliver a quick, unexpected strike to Lhum''Baggar''s knee. Swoosh! The bigger orc grunted in surprise, stumbling slightly, giving Volk the opening he needed. He followed up with a series of rapid, precise blows, targeting weak points, using techniques that were foreign to the orcs watching. But Lhum''Baggar was far from beaten. He recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing as he realized Volk wasn''t going down as easily as he had expected. With a roar of frustration, he lunged at Volk, catching him with a powerful backhand that sent him crashing to the ground. Pain exploded in Volk''s head, his vision going dark for a moment as he struggled to stay conscious. He could feel the ground beneath him, cold and unforgiving, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Every part of his body screamed in pain, begging him to give up, to surrender. But Volk knew he couldn''t. He had come too far, fought too hard to let it end here. He forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he faced Lhum''Baggar. The other orc was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his face, but his eyes were still filled with that cold, burning hatred. Volk could see it now¡ªthis wasn''t just about revenge. Lhum''Baggar wanted to prove something, to himself, to the others. He wanted to show that he was stronger, better, that he was the true warrior. But Volk wasn''t going to let him have that satisfaction. With a renewed sense of determination, Volk charged at Lhum''Baggar, using every ounce of strength he had left. He fought with everything he had, using unorthodox moves, quick strikes, anything that might give him an edge. The pain was overwhelming, but he pushed through it, focusing on the fight, on the next move, the next strike. And then, just as he was starting to feel like he couldn''t go on, a strange sensation washed over him. It was as if time had slowed, the world around him fading away. He could feel something within him, a deep, powerful energy that he had never felt before. It was raw, untamed, but it was there, waiting to be unleashed. And then, a notification appeared before his eyes, clear and bright in the darkness of the battle: | Ding! | Activate Radioactive Form? | For a moment, Volk hesitated, his mind racing as he weighed his options. He knew that activating the form could change everything, could give him the edge he needed to win. But at what cost? The power was dangerous, uncontrollable. He wasn''t sure if he was ready to handle it. But as he looked at Lhum''Baggar, at the determination in his eyes, the desire to crush him, Volk knew that he didn''t have a choice. He had to win. He had to survive. Even then, with a deep breath, Volk made his decision. No! Chapter 36 - 36: Sacrifice to win Yes! Yes! Yes! ''Yes'' should be the most logical answer he should answer. But for Volk, it''s not. All it would take was one word, one simple thought to activate the Radioactive form that hummed within him, begging to be unleashed. But Volk knew what that would mean. In the Orcs, the rules of combat were sacred, and to use the Radioactive form¡ªa form so closely akin to the Grum-gar or Ogre form¡ªwould be considered a loss, a surrender, a forfeiture of his honor. "No," he muttered under his breath, dismissing the notification. As tempting as it was, Volk had no intention of winning through a form of power that would tarnish the victory. He wanted to defeat Lhum''Baggar on even ground, to prove to himself and to everyone watching that he, a Labor Orc could stand toe-to-toe with a warrior and emerge victorious. The orcs surrounding them quieted slightly as Lhum''Baggar spoke, his voice laced with mocking disdain. "Is that all you''ve got, Kaz''rogal?" he sneered, referring to the title bestowed upon the year''s most promising Labor Orc. His words were accompanied by a deft display of skill as he twirled his massive war ax between his hands, the weapon seeming to dance as it moved fluidly from left to right, the sharp edge catching the dim light. Volk''s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent, watching Lhum''Baggar closely. The other orcs began to murmur amongst themselves, their voices tinged with awe and fear. "Did you see that? He''s gotten even better with that ax since the last time." "Yeah, I heard he''s been training nonstop, day and night. No one''s been able to match him." "Look at the way he handles it¡ªlike it''s just an extension of his arm. How can Volk possibly stand up to that?" "He''s already bleeding and bruised. I don''t think he can take much more." Volk could hear every word, each comment fueling the fire inside him. He knew Lhum''Baggar was trying to get into his head, trying to rattle him with his skill and taunts. But Volk had been through worse. He had faced challenges far beyond the physical realm, battles of the mind and spirit that had forged him into the fighter he was today. Lhum''Baggar''s taunts continued, his voice dripping with arrogance as he moved closer, his ax now pointed directly at Volk. "So, this is the mighty Volk, huh? The one who got lucky against my brother? Luk''Tar must have been exhausted after hunting those skinless beasts. That''s the only way you could have beaten him." Volk''s grin was tense, a mask hiding the turmoil within. The truth was, he had taken a beating from Lhum''Baggar not because he lacked strength or skill, but because he had been focused¡ªtoo focused¡ªon the ax. Lhum''Baggar''s mastery of the weapon had left Volk on the defensive, his mind racing to understand the patterns, the rhythm of the strikes. But now, Volk could feel it¡ªhe was starting to see through it, starting to recognize the timing, the tells that Lhum''Baggar unconsciously revealed. Just then, another notification flashed across Volk''s vision: | Ding! | Mission: Defeat the Weapon Handler Lhum''Baggar. | Reward: Basic Mastery of Ax Handling. Failure: Radioactive Time use will be reduced. | Volk''s eyes widened slightly at the reward. The system had finally recognized the challenge he faced, and it was offering him something that could tip the scales in his favor. Basic Mastery of Ax Handling would be invaluable, a key to understanding Lhum''Baggar''s movements and countering them effectively. But failure would mean a reduction in his Radioactive Time, a resource he couldn''t afford to lose. His thoughts were interrupted by Lhum''Baggar''s voice, dripping with sarcasm and challenge. "Why don''t you try that little trick you pulled on Gozorm''al? I''d like to see if it works on someone like me." Volk''s mind raced back to the battle with Gozorm''al, a brutish opponent who had fallen for a simple ruse¡ªa handful of dirt thrown into his eyes, followed by a quick, decisive strike. Lhum''Baggar''s words were meant to mock, to suggest that such a tactic would never work on him. But that was his mistake. Volk''s grin widened slightly, a plan beginning to form in his mind. "If that''s what you want, Lhum''Baggar," he said, his voice low and steady, "then let''s do this." Without wasting another moment, Volk lunged forward, feigning an attack with his right hand. As expected, Lhum''Baggar''s ax was there to meet it, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. But Volk was already a step ahead. He twisted his body, letting the ax graze his left hand, slicing through his fingers. The pain was sharp, searing, but Volk didn''t let it slow him down. Instead, he used the momentum to flick his hand, sending a spray of blood directly into Lhum''Baggar''s eyes. Lhum''Baggar roared in surprise, instinctively raising his hands to wipe the blood from his face, his vision momentarily obscured. It was all the opening Volk needed. Without hesitation, Volk swung his right arm, bringing down the club with thorns that he had been gripping tightly. The weapon crashed into Lhum''Baggar''s side with a resounding thud, the force of the blow reverberating through the cavern. The surrounding orcs erupted in shouts, their voices a mix of shock and excitement as they watched the unexpected turn of events. Lhum''Baggar staggered, his hand still clutching his ax, but his movements were unsteady, his balance disrupted by the sudden, blinding attack. Volk didn''t stop. He pressed the advantage, his movements fueled by adrenaline and the deep, burning desire to prove himself. He swung the club again, this time aiming for Lhum''Baggar''s legs, forcing the larger orc to stumble back. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Each strike was calculated, precise, aimed at keeping Lhum''Baggar off balance, preventing him from regaining his composure. But Lhum''Baggar wasn''t done yet. He snarled, his teeth bared in a feral grin as he finally managed to clear his vision. His eyes blazed with fury, his pride wounded by the unexpected assault. "You''ll pay for that," he growled, swinging his ax wildly, trying to regain control of the fight. Volk narrowly dodged the first swing, the blade whistling past his ear. He could feel the wind from the ax''s movement, a reminder of just how close he had come to being decapitated. But Volk wasn''t about to back down. He knew he couldn''t match Lhum''Baggar''s brute strength, but he didn''t need to. He just needed to outthink him. As Lhum''Baggar swung again, Volk ducked low, rolling to the side and coming up behind him. He brought the club down hard on the back of Lhum''Baggar''s knee, forcing the larger orc to drop to one leg. Lhum''Baggar roared in frustration, but Volk didn''t let up. Roar! He moved quickly, using his smaller size and speed to his advantage, striking at vulnerable points, chipping away at Lhum''Baggar''s defenses. The battle was fierce, each strike met with a counter, each blow pushing both orcs closer to their limits. Sweat and blood mixed on the ground, the air thick with the scent of iron and the sound of grunts, growls, and the clash of weapons. But Volk could feel it¡ªLhum''Baggar was slowing down due to the hit on the temple and the ear upon the first contact. The repeated blows to his legs, the blood in his eyes, the relentless assault was taking its toll. He was powerful, yes, but Volk was cunning, and in this fight, cunning was winning out. Finally, with a roar of determination, Volk swung his club with all his might, aiming for Lhum''Baggar''s side once more. Kabag! The impact was solid, the force driving the wind out of Lhum''Baggar''s lungs and sending him crashing to the ground. His ax clattered away from his grasp, now was out of reach. Volk stood over him, breathing heavily, with his body screaming in pain, but his eyes filled with resolve. Lhum''Baggar looked up at him, his expression a mixture of shock, anger, and something else¡ªrespect. With a final, defiant growl, Lhum''Baggar made to stand, but Volk was faster. Bang! Chapter 37 - 37: Axe of Dissection The bang echoed through the cavern, a sharp contrast to the raw sounds of battle that had filled the space moments before. Volk, muscles tensed and breath heavy, stared down at Lhum''Baggar, his club still raised, ready to deliver the final blow. But something had stopped him. He felt the resistance of another weapon meeting him, the force jolting up his arm and halting his movement. Volk''s eyes darted upward, and there, standing between him and Lhum''Baggar, was another orc, one of the surrounding warriors who had been watching their brutal contest. The new orc was tall, his frame broad and powerful, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of respect and authority. "Enough," the orc said, his voice commanding yet calm. "You''ve won, Volk, the great Mag''Durotan." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, his gaze flickering between Lhum''Baggar and the new orc. The tension in the air was thick, charged with the lingering energy of the fight. The orc who had intervened lowered his weapon, stepping back slightly as he continued speaking. "If you kill him now, Lhum''Baggar will be forced into his Grum-gar form," the orc explained, his tone serious. "And if that happens, our combat force will be diminished. There are still monsters and other orc tribes inside these catacombs, and we need every capable warrior we have. It would be bad for all of us." Volk hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing on his shoulder. He looked down at Lhum''Baggar, who was still pinned beneath him, breathing heavily, but the defiance in his eyes had dulled, replaced by something closer to acceptance. Slowly, Volk let his grip on the club loosen, allowing his body to slump as he stepped back. His legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to the ground with a thud, his body finally yielding to the exhaustion that had been clawing at him throughout the fight. A moment of silence passed before the surrounding orcs erupted into cheers, their voices echoing off the stone walls. "VOLK MOG''GER!" they roared in unison, "VOLK MOG''GER! VOLK MOG''GER!" The sound washed over Volk, a strange mix of exhilaration and relief settling in his chest. He had done it¡ªhe had won. And not just any victory, but a hard-fought, honorable one. The chants continued, growing louder, their rhythm matching the pounding of Volk''s heart. He couldn''t help but feel a swell of pride as the orcs celebrated his victory. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but one he found himself strangely enjoying. As the cheers began to die down, the orcs gathered around Volk and Lhum''Baggar, their voices a mixture of admiration and curiosity. One of them, a grizzled orc with a scar running down the side of his face, stepped forward, reaching into a pouch at his waist. He pulled out a small, rough bundle and tossed it toward Volk, who caught it reflexively. The bundle was made of animal skin, and Volk could feel a liquid sloshing inside as he shook it near his ear. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "What''s this?" Volk asked, his voice hoarse from the exertion of the fight. The scarred orc grinned, a toothy smile that revealed sharp, yellowed teeth. "That," he said, nodding toward the bundle in Volk''s hand, "is a dreg. It''s the leftover from high-level magic crystals. The elders don''t have much use for it anymore, but it''s still potent enough to heal minor wounds if you drink it." Volk looked at the bundle in his hand, then back at the scarred orc, skepticism evident in his eyes. "You sure this isn''t just some kind of poison?" The orc laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "If we wanted you dead, Volk Mog''ger, you''d already be rotting on the ground. Go ahead, drink it. It''ll help." With a shrug, Volk unwrapped the bundle, revealing a small, crude flask made from hollowed bone. He uncorked it and, after a brief sniff, tilted it back, letting the liquid flow down his throat. The taste was bitter, almost metallic, but as soon as it hit his stomach, he felt a warm buzz spread through his body. The wounds and bruises that had been screaming for attention moments before seemed to dull, the pain ebbing away as the magic took effect. Gulping the last of the liquid, Volk wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at his body. Slowly but surely, the cuts and bruises began to heal, the flesh knitting itself back together as the magic worked its way through him. "Not bad," Volk muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Just as the warmth from the dreg began to settle into a comforting hum, Lhum''Baggar approached him, his steps heavy but resolute. The tension between them had shifted, the animosity that had driven their fight now replaced with something more respectful. Lhum''Baggar stopped in front of Volk, his eyes steady as he regarded the orc who had bested him. "I lost fair and square," he admitted, his voice devoid of bitterness. "You''re the real Kaz''rogal, Volk. I can see that now." Volk met his gaze, surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. The Lhum''Baggar who stood before him now was different from the arrogant warrior he had fought moments ago. There was a sense of humility in his words, a recognition of Volk''s strength and skill. Then, as if remembering something, Lhum''Baggar tilted his head slightly, his expression curious. "Do you know what my ax is called?" Volk frowned, not sure where this was leading. "Your ax?" Lhum''Baggar nodded, gesturing to the weapon that had fallen to the ground during their fight. "It''s called the Ax of Dissection. It has a unique ability¡ªanyone who''s struck by it will lose twice the amount of blood as normal. I was wondering how you managed to use that against me when you splattered your blood in my eyes." Volk''s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn''t known that about the ax. His plan had been simple¡ªuse a small amount of blood to blind Lhum''Baggar, creating an opening for an attack. However, now that he thought about it, there had been more blood than he''d expected, a veritable spray that had caught Lhum''Baggar off guard. "I didn''t know," Volk admitted, shaking his head. "I just wanted to blind you. I didn''t realize your ax would make that much blood." Lhum''Baggar chuckled, the sound surprisingly good-natured. "Well, it worked better than you could''ve planned. And for that, you deserve this." He reached down and picked up the Ax of Dissection, holding it out to Volk with both hands. "As a sign of your victory, and as a sign that you''re the new leader of this expedition, I want you to have it." Volk stared at the ax, stunned by the offer. The weapon was finely crafted, its blade gleaming even in the dim light of the cavern. Taking it from Lhum''Baggar, Volk felt the weight of it in his hands, the power that seemed to hum from within the metal. Just then, a familiar sound chimed in Volk''s mind: | Ding! | You have completed the mission. | Reward: Basic Mastery of Ax Handling. | As the knowledge flowed into his mind, Volk felt a surge of confidence. He began to play with the ax, twirling it much like Lhum''Baggar had done earlier. The surrounding orcs watched in astonishment as Volk handled the weapon with newfound ease, the Basic Mastery enhancing his understanding and control of the ax. The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, their awe evident as Volk effortlessly spun the ax, the blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. Lhum''Baggar watched with a wide grin, clearly impressed. Finally, Lhum''Baggar raised Volk''s hand into the air, his voice booming across the cavern. "To our new leader!" The cheers erupted once more, filling the cavern with the sound of victory. "VOLK MOG''GER! VOLK MOG''GER!" "VOLK MOG''GER! VOLK MOG''GER!" "VOLK MOG''GER! VOLK MOG''GER!" The chant echoed off the stone walls, a testament to Volk''s triumph and the respect he had earned among his peers. As the cheers continued, Volk stood tall, the Ax of Dissection in his hand and the weight of leadership settling on his shoulders. He had come a long way from the labor orc he once was. Now, he was more than that. He was a leader, a warrior, and most of all, a survivor. Chapter 38 - 38: Perfect Leader The group of orcs, now under Volk''s leadership, marched forward through the winding corridors of the catacombs. The flickering light from their torches cast long shadows on the stone walls, creating an eerie atmosphere that would have unsettled any ordinary orc. But the Dreadmaw Clan was anything but ordinary. Each step echoed in the silence, but there was no fear in their hearts¡ªonly a sense of purpose. Volk, at the front of the group, felt the weight of his new role pressing down on him. He was their leader now, and he intended to lead them well. Their journey has been remarkably smooth so far. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and the occasional whiff of decay, but nothing seemed to challenge their advance. It was almost too easy. As they moved deeper into the catacombs, they passed several other orcish bodies, sprawled lifeless on the ground. Some were from rival clans, their armor and weapons distinctive in the dim light, but all bore the same gruesome fate. The group slowed to a stop as they came across yet another cluster of dead orcs. One of the Dreadmaw warriors, a burly orc with a jagged scar running across his cheek, turned to Volk with a puzzled expression. "How come we haven''t run into any monsters?" he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet. "Usually, these dungeons are swarming with creatures ready to rip us apart, but it''s been quiet. Too quiet." Grok''Thar, who had been walking just behind Volk, let out a hearty laugh. "You lot haven''t figured it out yet?" he said, clapping the questioning orc on the back. "It''s because of Volk here!" The other orcs looked at Grok''Thar in confusion, clearly not understanding. Volk himself raised an eyebrow, curious about what his friend would say next. Grok''Thar grinned widely, showing off his sharp teeth. "You see, Volk might have been a Labor Orc, but that''s exactly why we haven''t seen any monsters. His body is riddled with hazardous magic particles, so much so that the monsters probably think he''s some kind of powerful beast. They''re scared of him, that''s why they''re avoiding us!" The orcs stared at Volk, their expressions a mix of awe and shock. They had known he was different, that he had been a Labor Orc before proving his worth in combat, but they hadn''t realized just how much his past had affected him. One of the orcs, a younger warrior with bright, curious eyes, stepped closer to Volk, examining him as if seeing him for the first time. "I knew you were tough," he said slowly, "but I didn''t think it was to this extent." Volk shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the attention. He had never asked for any of this¡ªbeing a Labor Orc was something he had been born into, not something he had chosen. Yet here he was, leading a group of warriors through a deadly catacomb, and apparently scaring away monsters just by his presence. Grok''Thar, noticing Volk''s discomfort, decided to lighten the mood. "You should have seen some of the things that happened before we met up with you all," he said, chuckling. "There was this one time we were about to be ambushed by a pack of something¡ªI couldn''t even tell what they were, just a blur of teeth and claws¡ªand the moment they caught wind of Volk, they turned tail and ran! Didn''t even give us a chance to swing our weapons. They just bolted like their tails were on fire!" The orcs laughed, the tension easing as Grok''Thar continued to recount the strange and funny encounters they''d had while traveling with Volk. The mood in the group lifted as they realized just how fortunate they were to have such an intimidating presence leading them. But the light-hearted atmosphere didn''t last long. As they continued their journey, Lhum''Baggar approached Volk, his expression serious. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He walked beside Volk in silence for a few moments, as if gathering his thoughts, before finally speaking. "Volk," Lhum''Baggar began, his voice low, "I''ve been thinking about something. About those hazardous magic particles in your body." Volk glanced at him, curious. "What about them?" Lhum''Baggar hesitated, his brow furrowing in thought. "Do you know the extent of how hazardous they are?" Volk shook his head. With a cross finger, he would lie. "I don''t. All I know is that they''ve been with me for as long as I can remember. Back when I was a Labor Orc, it was just something I lived with." Lhum''Baggar nodded slowly, as if that confirmed something for him. "I remember now¡­ back when we were preparing to enter these catacombs, I forgot about something that happened with you and a warthog." Then he would swallow his saliva, "Do you remember the Adulthood ceremony?" Volk''s interest piqued. "The ceremony of Adulthood?" "Yes," Lhum''Baggar continued. "Most of the adult orcs, especially the strongest warriors in the tribe, don''t pay much attention to that ceremony. But what they do is double-check if the chosen Orc and the talented Elf are perfect for each other. If an orc has extremely hazardous magic particles in their body, it means there''s a chance that they might produce less talented offspring. And in such cases, the tribe''s elders will break the bond between the Labor Orc and the Elf." Volk''s eyes widened as he processed Lhum''Baggar''s words. "You mean¡­ they would take the Elf away from the Orc?" Lhum''Baggar nodded solemnly. "Yes. If the Orc is deemed too hazardous, they will take away his partner or wife and replace him with another Orc¡ªone who''s stronger, more suitable to produce talented offspring." A cold fury began to build in Volk''s chest as the implications of Lhum''Baggar''s words sank in. "So, you''re saying¡­ Solluha''r could be taken from me?" Lhum''Baggar didn''t respond immediately, his silence speaking volumes. But he remembers her, his brother. Still, he looked at Volk with a mixture of sympathy and understanding, knowing all too well the pain of such a realization. "Yes," Lhum''Baggar finally said. "It''s a possibility." Volk clenched his fists, his anger and fear battling for control. Solluha''r was very useful to him. The thought of losing her, of having her taken away because of something he had no control over, was unbearable. The rage inside him boiled over, but he forced himself to stay calm. There had to be a way to prevent it. There had to be something he could do. "What can I do to stop this?" Volk asked, his voice tight with desperation. "How can I prevent them from taking her?" Lhum''Baggar shook his head slowly, his expression regretful. "I don''t know, Volk. I wish I did, but I don''t. The elders make those decisions, and they''re not easily swayed. Your hazardous particles¡­ they''re not something you can just get rid of." Volk felt a deep sense of hopelessness settle over him. He was ready to face down orcs, monsters, and challenges that would have broken lesser warriors, but this¡ªthis was something else entirely. This was a fight he didn''t know how to win. As they continued to walk, the weight of Lhum''Baggar''s words hung heavily in the air. Volk''s mind raced, searching for solutions, for any way he could protect Solluha''r and their future together. But for now, there were no easy answers. All he could do was keep moving forward, leading his warriors deeper into the catacombs, all while wrestling with the fear that he might lose the one thing he needed the most. Chapter 39 - 39: Solution As the group of orcs continued their journey through the catacombs, the oppressive silence of the dark tunnels was broken only by the occasional clank of armor and the shuffling of heavy feet on stone. Volk walked at the head of the group, his mind still troubled by the conversation he had with Lhum''Baggar. The thought of losing Solluha''r was indeed heavy even if he denies it, and the uncertainty of what awaited them at the end of this expedition only added to his worries. Suddenly, one of the orcs in the group moved up to walk beside Volk and Lhum''Baggar. He was a broad-shouldered, muscular orc with a long, jagged scar running from his forehead to his chin. His eyes were a sharp, intelligent green, and his presence commanded respect from the others. "I am Grashk, son of Kor''Thul, known as the Child Protector," the orc introduced himself, his voice deep and resonant. "My father was a respected warrior, and I have earned my title by ensuring the safety of the young ones in our clan. But today, I may have a solution to your problem, Volk." Volk, intrigued by the orc''s confident tone, turned to him. "What solution do you speak of?" Grashk nodded, as if he had been expecting the question. "At the end of this tunnel, there lies a special crystal, one that is a thousand times more valuable than the scattered crystals we''ve seen here and there. This crystal is no ordinary gem¡ªit is said to be infused with ancient magic, capable of swaying even the most stubborn elders. If you were to obtain it and offer it to the elders, they might reconsider taking your wife from you." Volk''s interest was piqued, but he remained cautious. "Might? They might reconsider?" Grashk met Volk''s gaze steadily. "Yes, might. It is not a guarantee, but it is better than nothing. The elders are bound by tradition and the will of the tribe, but they also respect power and sacrifice. Offering them something of such value could sway their decision." Volk considered the orc''s words. The idea of finding this crystal was appealing, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. Still, as Grashk had pointed out, it was better than doing nothing. He nodded slowly. "Very well. We''ll find this crystal." The group continued forward with renewed determination, the promise of the crystal driving them onward. The tunnel ahead seemed to stretch on endlessly, the darkness thickening around them as they delved deeper into the catacombs. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sounds of their footsteps and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling. After what felt like hours of walking, Volk''s mind began to wander. The more he thought about the crystal, the more questions arose in his mind. Something didn''t quite add up. Finally, unable to shake the feeling that something was off, Volk broke the silence. "Why haven''t we seen any crystals around here?" he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet. "In all this time, we''ve come across dead orcs and empty tunnels, but not a single crystal. Why is that?" The other orcs exchanged uneasy glances, hesitant to answer. Finally, Grashk spoke up, his voice carefully measured. "The other orc tribes came to this place first. They''ve already taken the crystals from these tunnels. That''s why we haven''t seen any." Volk frowned, not entirely satisfied with the answer. "And why are we following the same path as those other tribes? Why not take a different tunnel, one they haven''t explored yet?" The orcs were silent for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. Finally, one of the older orcs spoke up, his voice respectful but firm. "Because the other tunnels are more dangerous, Volk. There are beasts in those tunnels, unknown creatures that we''ve never encountered before. The dangers there are greater, and the risk of losing our lives is too high." Volk raised an eyebrow. "What kind of dangers?" The older orc hesitated before answering, clearly wary of spooking the group. "There are four dangerous tunnels, each with its own threats. Some say there are creatures there that are unlike anything we''ve faced before¡ªgiant, skinless beasts, swarms of venomous insects, and shadows that move of their own accord, not just the same monster that is common inside this dungeon. And in one of the tunnels, there could be creatures that are said to be as powerful as a Level 5 Mag''Durotan. So it would be better to follow their paths¡­" The mention of a creature as powerful as a Mag''Durotan sent a ripple of unease through the group. Even Volk felt a chill run down his spine at the thought. But as he processed the information, another thought struck him, and he stopped in his tracks. The orcs behind him halted as well, looking at him in confusion. Volk turned to face them, his eyes narrowing in thought. "What happened to the creatures we were supposed to encounter in this tunnel? If there are beasts in those other tunnels, why haven''t we seen any here? The only thing we''ve come across are the bodies of orcs from other tribes. Where are the monsters?" The orcs stared at Volk, suddenly a realization slowly dawning on them. Grok''Thar, who had been listening quietly, suddenly let out a laugh. "Of course! The monsters are scared of you, Volk! They''re avoiding us because of the hazardous magic particles in your body. They think you''re some kind of powerful beast!" The other orcs looked at Volk with wide eyes, the truth of Grok''Thar''s words settling in. If the creatures in this tunnel were avoiding them because of Volk, then there was no reason to fear the dangers of the other tunnels. With Volk leading them, they had nothing to worry about. One of the younger orcs, his face lighting up with excitement, pumped his fist in the air. "Then what are we waiting for? Let''s head to the other tunnels! If the leader''s presence is enough to scare off the monsters, we can gather all the crystals we want without any trouble!" The rest of the group quickly joined in, their earlier fear and hesitation replaced by enthusiasm. They began to cheer, their voices echoing off the stone walls. "Volk! Volk! Volk!" Volk couldn''t help but smile at their enthusiasm. He hadn''t expected this outcome, but it was clear that his presence was a powerful advantage. With renewed determination, he led the group back through the tunnel they had come from, heading toward one of the unexplored tunnels. As they entered the new tunnel, the air felt different. It was heavier, charged with an unseen energy. But the orcs didn''t falter. They pressed forward, their excitement growing with each step. And as they went deeper into the tunnel, their eyes began to catch the glimmer of something in the darkness. Crystals. The walls of the tunnel were studded with them, glowing faintly in the dim light. The orcs let out triumphant shouts, their hands reaching for the crystals and quickly filling their bags with the precious stones. It was a treasure trove beyond their wildest dreams. Volk watched with satisfaction as his warriors gathered the crystals, their earlier fears forgotten. The tunnel, which had seemed so foreboding at first, was now a source of great wealth. And all because the creatures that usually guarded these places were too afraid to face him. The group moved through the tunnel like a well-oiled machine, gathering crystals with practiced efficiency. Their bags were soon bulging with the precious stones, and the mood among the orcs was jubilant. They laughed and joked as they worked, their voices filled with the thrill of victory. "Can you believe it?" one of the orcs said, his voice full of awe. "We''ve filled our bags in no time! And it''s all thanks to Volk!" "Aye!" another orc agreed. "We''re lucky to have him as our leader. The beasts didn''t stand a chance!" "We''re going to be rich!" a third orc exclaimed, holding up a particularly large crystal with a grin. The mood was infectious, and soon the entire group was celebrating their good fortune. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They slapped each other on the back, their laughter ringing out through the tunnel. Volk couldn''t help but feel a sense of pride. He had led them to this victory, and their success was undeniable. But just as the group''s celebration reached its peak, a sound cut through the air¡ªfaint at first, but growing louder with each passing moment. The orcs fell silent, their laughter dying on their lips as they strained to listen. It was the sound of battle. The clashing of weapons, the shouts of warriors, and the roars of something inhuman. The orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier joy replaced by a growing sense of unease. Volk''s hand tightened around the hilt of his weapon as he listened to the sounds of the distant fight. Whatever was happening up ahead, it was something they couldn''t ignore. The celebration was over. It was time to face whatever it is. Chapter 40 - 40: Some Orc Rules "What''s happening up there?" Volk demanded, with a low growl. One of the orcs, a younger warrior with a deep scar running down his cheek, answered, "A battle, Leader. It sounds like a fight between another clan and... something else." Volk''s eyes narrowed. "Should we interfere?" The orcs exchanged uneasy glances. Another orc, this one seemed older and more experienced due to his beard, stepped forward to explain. "Let''s, it''s forbidden to interfere with the business of other clans, whether they are in need of help or not. To do so would be seen as a challenge to their strength and their honor." The orc''s voice was steady, but there was a tension beneath it, a tension that carried the weight of ancient traditions and unspoken laws. "In the catacombs, every clan must fight its own battles. If we were to interfere, it would be seen as an insult, a sign that we think them too weak to handle their own affairs. And in our world, an insult like that is answered with blood." Another orc added, his tone grim, "If we step in now, they might challenge us once we''re back at the tribe. Blood feuds could be sparked, alliances shattered. It''s not just about the fight in front of us, Volk. It''s about the balance of power between the clans, the respect we must show each other even in this place." Volk listened, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He understood the rules, the unspoken agreements that kept the fragile peace between the clans. But the thought of standing idle while a battle raged nearby felt like something was eating his intestine. He was a warrior, bred for the heat of combat, not for the cold calculations of politics. "So we just wait here? Like a kid waiting for their parents permission?" Volk''s voice was sharp, tinged with frustration. He would remember when he was used to that, he hated it. Plus, he needed to check out something. The older orc nodded solemnly. "Yes, we wait. It''s the only way to avoid unnecessary conflict. We don''t want to make enemies when we''ve already got enough to deal with in these catacombs." Volk shook his head, his jaw set in a hard line. "That can''t be done. I''m not going to stand here and wait, I will pass through them if they want." He could feel the bloodlust rising in him, the urge to charge into the fray and smash his enemies into the ground. Another orc, sensing Volk''s growing frustration, stepped forward. "Volk, if we interfere, it could lead to a war between the younger generation of our clans. We need to think about what''s best for our people, not just our pride." But Volk was already moving, his feet carrying him forward before he could even think. "It doesn''t matter," he said, his voice low and determined. "I''ll smash them all, no matter who stands in my way." The orcs behind him exchanged looks of shock and disbelief. They had seen Volk in battle before, knew his strength, but this was different. He was defying the rules, challenging the very foundations of their society. Yet, as they watched Volk''s determined stride, a few of them felt a thrill of excitement. They had followed Volk this far, trusted his instincts and his power. And now, as he led them toward the sounds of battle, they couldn''t help but feel a surge of pride. "Let''s go!" one of the younger orcs shouted, his voice filled with adrenaline. The others hesitated for only a moment before following. They fell in behind Volk, their weapons at the ready, their minds focused on the coming fight. Whatever happened next, they knew they would follow Volk to the end, after all, he is now their leader. As they emerged into a wider cavern, the sight that greeted them was one of chaos and violence. The Bloodfang clan, known for their fierce warriors and unyielding spirit, was locked in a brutal struggle with a pack of massive, snarling dogs. These beasts were like nothing Volk had ever seen before¡ªmuscular and powerful, with the build of a pit bull but standing nearly as tall as the orcs themselves. Their eyes glowed with a savage intelligence, and their jaws snapped at anything that moved, teeth flashing like daggers in the dim light. The Bloodfang orcs fought valiantly, their axes and swords cleaving through the air with deadly precision. They moved with the fluidity of seasoned warriors, their bodies hardened by countless battles. But despite their skill, the dogs were relentless, their strength seemingly inexhaustible. One Bloodfang orc, a massive figure with war paint smeared across his face, let out a furious roar as he buried his ax into the side of a dog, only for another to leap at him from behind. The orc twisted just in time, slashing the beast''s throat open, but the bloodied warrior staggered, barely able to keep his footing. The battle raged on, the cavern echoing with the sounds of snarling, the clash of steel, and the cries of wounded orcs. But then, something changed. The dogs, those ferocious beasts, suddenly froze mid-attack. Their snarls ceased, their ears perked up, and their glowing eyes shifted to a single point in the cavern. The Bloodfang orcs, panting and bloodied, paused in confusion. They followed the gaze of the dogs, and their eyes widened in shock. The entire pack of monstrous hounds, just moments ago on the verge of overwhelming the Bloodfang warriors, was now retreating, their tails tucked between their legs, their whimpers echoing off the cavern walls. "Wh-what''s going on?" one of the Bloodfang orcs muttered, wiping blood from his brow as he stared in disbelief. The answer came soon enough as a line of orcs emerged from the darkness, their silhouettes gradually becoming clearer. It was the Dreadmaw clan, led by Volk at the forefront, walking in a straight, unbroken line. The sight was imposing, and somehow, they could feel their presence sending a shiver down the spines of the Bloodfang warriors. "How...?" another Bloodfang orc began, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and fear. "How did the Dreadmaw clan get here? They were the last to enter the catacombs. How are they here, overtaking everyone?" The dogs, now fully aware of the approaching Dreadmaw orcs, let out high-pitched whines, the sound of their fear clear as day. They scrambled over each other, their once mighty forms reduced to cowering beasts as they fled into the darkness, their retreat a stark contrast to the dominance they had shown just moments before. The Bloodfang orcs were left standing in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they watched the spectacle. The enemy that had nearly driven them to the brink of defeat was now fleeing, not from their blades, but from the presence of Volk and his warriors. "They''re scared... of them?" one of the Bloodfang orcs whispered, disbelief coloring his tone. But as they stood there, trying to process what they were seeing, memories surfaced in their minds. Stories, whispers of rumors, about the Dreadmaw clan''s strange new leader, an orc who was not like the others. An orc whose body was riddled with hazardous magic particles, making him a terror to any who crossed his path. Before the Bloodfang warriors could fully grasp the situation, one of them, unable to contain his shock any longer, let out a shout. "Hey!!" His voice echoed through the cavern, a mixture of anger and confusion. The rest of the Bloodfang clan turned their attention fully to the approaching Dreadmaw orcs, their weapons still gripped tightly in their hands, unsure whether to prepare for a fight or to thank the gods for their unexpected saviors. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk, his eyes scanning the battlefield, met the gaze of the Bloodfang leader. There was a moment of silence between them, an unspoken understanding passing through the air. The Dreadmaw orcs came to a stop, their formation solid and unmoving, as if waiting for some sign or signal from Volk. The Bloodfang leader, his chest heaving from the exertion of battle, took a cautious step forward. "Dreadmaw Clan," he called out, his voice carrying across the cavern. "Why are you all here? What do you want? Why do you all interfere? Do you all have any idea what you are doing?" Volk, his expression unreadable, simply raised his head slightly, his eyes flickering with a cold, determined light. "I heard the sounds of battle," he replied, his voice steady. "And I don''t stand by when I can pass through this easily." The Bloodfang leader''s eyes narrowed slightly. He knew the rules of the clans, knew the implications of Volk''s presence here. But he also knew that without the Dreadmaw orcs'' sudden appearance, the battle might have ended very differently for his clan. "Your timing is... fortunate," the Bloodfang leader said carefully, his voice still tinged with caution. Volk didn''t respond immediately. Instead, he let his gaze sweep across the battlefield, taking in the wounded orcs, the blood-stained ground, and the retreating forms of the hounds. He could feel the weight of tradition and expectation pressing down on him, but his instincts, as if honed through countless battles of his ancestors, told him something different. "I''m not here to challenge you," Volk said finally, his voice firm. "But I won''t stand by and do nothing at the side like a child waiting for his ration. If you see this as a challenge, so be it. I''m ready." Chapter 41 - 41: Final Dungeon Boss Altar The silence that followed Volk''s words was heavy with unspoken tension. The Bloodfang leader, a seasoned warrior with countless battles etched into his memory, locked eyes with Volk. He could sense the raw power emanating from the unknown Dreadmaw orc, a pressure he couldn''t comprehend. There was something more, something ancient and terrible that lurked beneath Volk''s calm exterior. Yet, to the surprise of his own warriors, the Bloodfang leader did not respond with the expected fury or challenge. Instead, he remained silent, his gaze piercing but contemplative. Volk, noting the lack of response, allowed a small, knowing smile to touch his lips. "It would be unsatisfactory to beat you all here and now," Volk said, his voice low but carrying the weight of his conviction. "You''ve just fought a battle, and I would gain little from defeating tired warriors." Without waiting for a reply, Volk turned on his heel and began to walk away, and his steps were measured and unhurried. As he moved, he added over his shoulder, "If you really want to find me, once all of you are healed, I am Volk Mog''ger, the heir of Kazrogal. Come to my Dreadmaw clan, and I will accept all your challenges." Those words were like a gauntlet thrown down at the Bloodfang orcs, a promise of future reckoning that left the Bloodfang warriors in a stunned silence. Because of this, they could only watch as Volk and his orcs disappeared into the shadows, with their forms gradually blending into the darkness of the catacombs. As the last of the Dreadmaw orcs vanished from sight, one of the Bloodfang warriors stepped forward, with furrowed brow in confusion and frustration. "Leader, why didn''t you accept his challenge? We''re the Bloodfang! We don''t back down from anyone!" The Bloodfang leader, still gazing in the direction Volk had gone, let out a slow breath. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully before he turned to face his warrior. "We need to heal first," he said, his tone calm and measured. "We''ve just fought a fierce battle, and our strength is not at its peak." "But leader¡ª" the warrior began, but the leader held up a hand to silence him. "Volk was right," the Bloodfang leader continued, his voice tinged with a grudging respect. "He could see that defeating us now would bring him no satisfaction. The desire to battle wasn''t in his eyes. There was something more, something... different. He would have felt it was an unsatisfactory victory, even if he won." The warrior frowned, still struggling to understand. "But we could have¡ª" "No," the leader cut him off, his voice firm. "Remember this, all of you. Remember his name: Volk Mog''ger, the Beast Nemesis. We will remember him, and when the time comes, we will face him. But not now." Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Bloodfang leader''s gaze swept over his warriors, the fierce determination in his eyes unmistakable. "For now, heal your wounds and prepare for the next battle. We''ll need our full strength to face whatever lies ahead." As his warriors dispersed to tend to their injuries, the Bloodfang leader stood alone for a moment longer, his thoughts still lingering on the Dreadmaw leader Volk. The name "Mog''ger" echoed in his mind, resonating with a sense of foreboding and challenge. He knew there was something in him why, even as a stage three Mag''Durotan, he was their leader. However, he also knew that this encounter was only the beginning, and that they wood cross their paths once gone. However, the Bloodfangs were no strangers to peril, and they would be ready when the time came. ¡­ Meanwhile, deep within the labyrinthine tunnels of the catacombs, Volk led his orcs forward with a steady pace. The darkness pressed in around them, but Volk''s eyes remained fixed on the path ahead, with his thoughts now far from the recent encounter. The orcs behind him were in awe. They knew the Bloodfangs¡ªfierce, unyielding, and among the most formidable of all the orc tribes. To see their leader back down, even momentarily, was nothing short of astonishing. It was clear to them now that Volk was a force to be reckoned with, a leader whose mere presence could turn the tide of a battle. Grashk, acting as if he was one of Volk''s most trusted lieutenants, walked beside him, with his mind thinking of the implications of what had just transpired. The respect he felt for Volk had grown even deeper, but there was also a sense of curiosity gnawing at him. "Tell me, Grashk," Volk''s voice broke through the silence, his tone thoughtful. "Are there any serious threats protecting the special crystal you spoke of?" Grashk nodded, his expression grave. "Yes, leader. The crystal is said to be guarded by the dungeon boss¡ªa creature of immense power, compared to these scared dungeon monsters in your presence. But maybe, leader, the dungeon boss would also be scared of you, graha!" Volk''s eyes flickered with interest. "I see." There was a brief pause as Volk considered this information. He could feel the tension in his muscles easing slightly, he asked this because of desperation, desperate to test something¡ªto push the limits of his abilities and see just what his new form, the Radioactive form, was truly capable of. He wanted to know the difference between his Radioactive form and the Grum-gar orc form. Anotherinh thing¡­ The Nuclear Devastation Slaps, a technique he wanted to understand. So, he was getting itchy, he desired for battle and needed to test all of these against the strongest opponents he could find. But now, with the promise of a confrontation with the dungeon boss looming on the horizon, Volk felt a sense of clarity settling over him. The answers he sought were within reach, and he knew that once he had them, he would be unstoppable. Even the elders of his tribe, who had long held the reins of power, would not be able to stand against him. The journey through the catacombs continued, the oppressive darkness surrounding them like a shroud. The tunnels twisted and turned, the air growing colder and thicker with every step. As they traveled deeper, the orcs encountered strange and fearsome creatures¡ªhumanoid dogs with fierce, glowing eyes, their bodies were twisted and warped by the dark magic that permeated the catacombs. These beasts were fierce, their growls low and menacing as they emerged from the shadows, but as soon as they caught sight of Volk and his orcs, something would change. The hostility in their eyes would, replaced by a flicker of fear. The humanoid dogs would immediately hackles as they backed away, it was as if their instinct for survival were overriding their aggression. Volk barely spared them a glance, with an unbroken focus as he led his orcs forward. Finally, after what felt like hours of traversing the winding tunnels, they reached the end of the path. The tunnel opened up into a massive cavern, its walls lined with jagged rocks and glowing crystals that cast an eerie, pale light across the space. The air was thick with an oppressive feeling, a sense of foreboding that made the orcs pause at the entrance. Volk stepped forward and took sight of the cave. The cavern was vast, its ceiling lost in the darkness above, and at its center stood a massive structure¡ªan ancient altar, carved from black stone and surrounded by swirling mists of dark energy. The oppressive feeling in the air grew stronger as they approached, the very ground beneath their feet seeming to hum with power. Volk could feel it¡ªan ancient, malevolent presence that radiated from the altar, a presence that promised both great danger and great reward. "This is it," Volk murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "The end of the tunnel." The orcs behind him remained silent, but all their eyes were fixed on the altar. They could feel it too¡ªthe presence that awaited them, the dungeon boss that guarded the crystal they sought was near. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, not with fear, but with anticipation. This was the moment he had been waiting for¡ªthe chance to test his abilities. He could feel the power surging within him, the radioactive energy that pulsed through his veins, ready to be unleashed. With a final, determined breath, Volk stepped forward, with his eyes locking on the altar. Chapter 42 - 42: Hordes Decision As Volk stood before the massive cavern, an oppressive energy pulsing in the air, he prepared himself for the challenge ahead. His thoughts were focused, his senses heightened, every fiber of his being attuned to the task at hand. However, just as he took a step forward, ready to confront whatever lay hiding in the darkness, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Volk, wait," one of the orcs behind him called out, his voice laced with hesitation. Volk halted, turning to face his comrades. The sight that greeted him was unexpected¡ªexpressions of uncertainty, fear, and doubt written across their faces. It was a look Volk recognized all too well, a look that stirred memories from a life he had long since left behind. He remembered being confined to a wheelchair, yearning to do things others took for granted, but being held back by his own limitations. It was a look of someone wanting to speak, but unsure if they should. "I am your leader," Volk began, his voice firm yet gentle. "You''re all my responsibility. What is it?" Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The orc who had stopped him hesitated, glancing at his comrades before speaking. "We''ve been thinking... Maybe we should go back and apologize to the Bloodfang clan for what we did. We don''t want enmity with them, Volk. They''re one of the strongest clans, and... and we''re just hunters, not warriors." The words hung in the air like a stone dropped into a still pond, the ripples of their meaning spreading through the group. Before Volk could respond, Lhum''Baggar, a fierce warrior with a fiery temper, stepped forward and shoved the orc who had spoken, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Are you out of your mind?" Lhum''Baggar roared, his voice echoing through the cavern. "That''s the talk of a coward! A weakling! You''d rather grovel at the feet of the Bloodfang than stand tall as an orc? Have you forgotten what it means to be one of us? We are the Dreadmaw! We do not bow! We do not apologize! To show weakness like this is the most shameful thing an orc can do!" Lhum''Baggar''s outburst sent a shockwave through the group, the raw fury in his voice silencing all but the bravest among them. The orc he had pushed was quickly helped to his feet by his comrades, who glared back at Lhum''Baggar with defiance in their eyes. "We''re not all like you, Lhum''Baggar!" One of them shouted back, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. "Not all of us were raised by a warrior father who taught us weapon-handling from the time we could walk! Your father had a name, a reputation! Our fathers were not warriors¡ªthey were hunters, farmers, craftsmen! We were never meant to be bloodseekers like you!" Another orc joined in, his voice rising in support of his friend. "We''ve followed you this far because we believed in you, but we never asked for this! We don''t want to die here, in some godforsaken dungeon, just because you''re too proud to admit when you''re wrong! We don''t want to make enemies we can''t afford to have!" The argument escalated quickly, the group dividing into those who supported Lhum''Baggar and those who sided with the hesitant orcs. Grashk and Grok''Thar, both seemed loyal to Lhum''Baggar, stepped forward to back him up, their voices joining the fray. "Lhum''Baggar''s right!" Grashk shouted. "We''ve come this far because we''re orcs, and orcs don''t back down! We don''t show weakness to anyone, especially not the Bloodfang! If we go back now, we might as well be dead already!" Grok''Thar nodded in agreement, his voice booming through the cavern. "This is a test! A trial to prove ourselves! If we turn back now, we''ll never be more than hunters and farmers! We''ll never earn the respect of the clan, never be seen as true warriors!" The shouting grew louder, the tension within the group mounting as each side refused to back down. It was a scene Volk had seen before, in a different life¡ªa life where he had been a helpless observer to the arguments of his cousins, sisters, and brothers, each of them quarrelling over what was best for him, for the one who could not help himself. In that past life, Volk had hated being a burden, hated being the cause of strife and division among those he loved. He had vowed that in this new life, he would never be the source of such conflict again. He would not be a burden to those who followed him. However now, he realized, the conflict was inevitable. He could not avoid it by remaining silent. "Wait," Volk said, trying to regain control, but his voice was drowned out by the continued shouting. The argument raged on, neither side willing to give ground. Lhum''Baggar''s supporters accused the others of cowardice and betrayal, while the hesitant orcs defended their right to choose their own path, to survive rather than be sacrificed on the altar of pride. "ENOUUUUUGH!!!" Volk''s voice cut through the noise like a blade, echoing off the cavern walls with a force that demanded silence. The orcs stopped, turning to face their leader, their expressions a mix of shock and shame. The sheer power in Volk''s voice was enough to remind them of who led this group, of the respect they owed him. Volk took a deep breath, steadying himself before he spoke. "I am not a warrior," he began, his voice low but filled with the weight of his confession. "I am a Labor Orc. We are said to only strengthen ourselves in the second form once we''re in the Grum-gar form, and even then, only one percent of us or one of my offsprings of one hundred percent, will ever awaken to that form. And because of that, when I return to the clan, my current partner will be taken from me." His words hung in the air, heavy with the truth of his situation. The orcs looked at him, their anger and fear momentarily forgotten as they absorbed the reality of what Volk was saying. "But I won''t just accept that," Volk continued, his voice growing louder, more resolute. "I, Volk Mog''ger, refuse to be constrained by what others think I should be! I refuse to let them take what is mine without a fight! I want to know how strong I really am, even if it means facing death! I won''t stand idle while my fate is decided by others!" He looked each of them in the eye, his gaze unwavering. "I know it sounds crazy. I know what I''m asking is more than what most would consider reasonable. But that''s who I am. I won''t care if I offend the Bloodfang Clan, or even if I offend every single one of you. I am done living by the expectations of others." Volk''s words resonated in the hearts of his comrades, their earlier fears and doubts now overshadowed by a deep, growing respect for their leader. He had laid bare his soul before them, revealed his vulnerabilities, and in doing so, had shown them the strength of his conviction. "You can decide," Volk said, his voice softening. "Go back if you want. I won''t blame you. But I''m going forward. I have to." The orcs stood in silence, their minds racing as they processed everything Volk had said. They saw in him not just a leader, but a fellow orc who was willing to fight for his place in the world, to challenge the fate that others had tried to impose on him. They saw a reflection of their own struggles, their own fears, and their own desires for something more. One by one, they began to nod, their earlier hesitation giving way to a steely resolve. Lhum''Baggar, Grashk, Grok''Thar, and even the orcs who had been most afraid, all found themselves moved by Volk''s words. They realized that in following Volk, they weren''t just following a leader¡ªthey were following an idea, a belief that they could be more than what they were told to be. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the hesitant orcs stepped forward. "We''ll come with you, Volk," he said, his voice steady. "We won''t let you fight this alone." The others nodded in agreement, their expressions firm. They had made their choice. Volk felt a swell of emotion in his chest¡ªpride, gratitude, and a fierce determination that burned brighter than ever. He had faced his fears, his doubts, and had come out stronger. And now, with his comrades by his side, he knew that they could face whatever lay ahead. There was a long pause as they all looked at one another, the bond between them stronger than it had ever been. Then, with one voice, they roared the words that had become their rallying cry, the words that signified their unity, their resolve, and their defiance in the face of any challenge. "Lok''tar Ogar!" The cavern walls shook with the force of their cry, the sound echoing into the depths of the darkness that lay ahead. "Lok''tar Ogar!" "Lok''tar Ogar!" "Lok''tar Ogar!" Together, they would face whatever waited for them, knowing that they were not just orcs, but warriors¡ªwarriors who had chosen their own path, and who would fight for their right to walk it. "LOK''TAR OGAR!!!" And with that, they turned as one, following Volk as he led them forward into the unknown With the expression written on their faces, one could see their hearts must be filled with a renewed sense of purpose and a fire that nothing could extinguish. Chapter 43 - 43: Three headed dog, Dozer The triumphant cries of "Lok''tar Ogar!" had barely faded when an eerie, bone-chilling laughter echoed through the cavern, reverberating off the dark, jagged walls. "Kekekekeke¡­" The orcs froze, their jubilation cut short as the sinister sound filled the space, setting their nerves on an immediate edge. The laughter was high-pitched, almost mocking, and it sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest among them. "Kekekekeke¡­" Volk''s eyes narrowed as he instinctively raised his Axe of Dissection, his body tense and ready for any sudden action. The other orcs followed suit, their hands tightening around their weapons, their eyes scanning the darkness before them. The sound came from deep within the shadows, where even their keen orcish vision could not penetrate. Then, from the depths of the darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes appeared. The eyes were large, blood-red, and menacing, staring at them with an unsettling intelligence. A growl rumbled through the cavern, low and ominous, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet. Before they could react, another pair of eyes appeared, then another, until five glowing red eyes stared back at them from the void. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The orcs took an involuntary step back, their hearts pounding. Whatever creature lurked within that darkness, it was no ordinary beast. The air was thick with an oppressive energy, and a sense of dread began to creep into their minds. "Kekeke¡­ An orc with good leadership," the voice sneered from the darkness, dripping with malevolence. "But it''s a pity. Your body is so full of hazardous magic particles, you''re useless to me. But you''re laughable. Do you really think you can make your dreams come true?" The voice was taunting, cruel, and as it spoke, the shape of a massive beast began to emerge from the shadows. The ground shook with each step it took, sending small rocks tumbling from the cavern walls. As the creature stepped into the dim light of the cavern, its full form was revealed¡ªa monstrous, three-headed dog, with a muscular body covered in brown fur that gleamed like polished leather. Each of its three heads bore a pair of those malevolent red eyes, glowing with a hunger that could never be sated. The beast was immense, towering over the orcs, its sheer size dwarfing them. Its body was rippling with muscle, every movement causing the ground beneath it to rumble as if the earth itself feared its presence. The three heads snapped at the air, one could see their massive jaws lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth that gleamed in the dim light. Drool dripped from its maws, sizzling as it hit the ground, burning holes into the stone. Volk and the others stared in stunned silence, their hearts racing. This was no ordinary beast; it was a monster born of nightmares, a force of nature in its own right. The orcs'' confidence wavered as they took in the sight before them, and a deep sense of dread settled in their chests. Suddenly, one of the orcs noticed something in one of the beast''s mouths¡ªa limp figure, barely recognizable through the blood and gore. The orc''s breath caught in his throat as he realized who it was. "That¡­ that''s a Shadowclaw orc¡­" he mumbled, his voice trembling with fear. The orc''s green skin was barely visible beneath the blood and wounds, and his once-proud black leather uniform, adorned with animal claws as a symbol of his clan, was torn to shreds. His lifeless body hung from the beast''s jaw, as if his fate were now sealed in the beast''s maw. The sight sent a shockwave through the group. The Shadowclaw Clan was known for their cunning and stealth, their members some of the most feared assassins among the orcish tribes. If one of their own had fallen so easily to this beast, what hope did they have? The voice laughed again, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed in their minds. "This is Dozer, a distant relative of the legendary Cerberus. He''s really hungry, and his favorite meal is rare Hornless orcs. He only needs seventy heads to reach his full rampage mode, but he doesn''t mind starting with a few now. After all, who can resist a plate of food delivered right to him?" The orcs looked around frantically, trying to locate the source of the voice, but the darkness was impenetrable, and no figure revealed itself. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, wrapping around them like a suffocating shroud. Volk''s grip tightened on his axe. | Ding! | Mission triggered. | Defeat the foe with your tribe! | Anything works! | Failure: Random removal of one of your Elemental Nuclear Strikes. | Rewards: Unknown normal ability in your Hornless Orc state. | He was surprised with the system mission, but he could feel the fear spreading through his comrades, their resolve wavering in the face of this monstrous foe. However, Volk knew they couldn''t afford to hesitate now, or the mission would fail. With a deep breath, he raised his Axe of Dissection high and roared, "Lok''tar Ogar!!!" His voice cut through the fear, and the other orcs, rallying behind their leader, lifted their weapons and echoed the battle cry. They had no choice but to fight. Retreat was impossible with the beasts behind them, and the only way out was through this creature. With a surge of destructive green adrenaline, Volk charged forward, with a gleaning axe as he aimed for the beast''s massive body. The ground shook with his steps, but the beast did not flinch. It watched him with all six eyes, its heads cocked as if amused by the tiny figure charging towards it. The size difference was staggering. Dozer was four times larger than Volk, each of its heads as big as an orc. As Volk closed in, the beast let out a deafening roar that shook the very walls of the cavern. "ROOOOAAARRRR!!!!" The sound was like thunder, a deep, guttural noise that seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself. Volk was undeterred. With a fierce cry, "HAAAAAA!!" he swung his axe at the nearest head, aiming for its throat. But Dozer was faster. In a blur of motion, one of its heads snapped towards Volk with terrifying speed. Swoosh! Before Volk could react, the massive head struck him with the force of a battering ram, sending him flying through the air. Bang! His body slammed into the side of the cavern wall with a sickening crunch, the impact so powerful that it left a deep crater in the stone. For a moment, everything went silent. The orcs watched in horror as their leader lay crumpled on the ground, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. The voice laughed again, cold and mocking. "Dozer doesn''t need an overly hazardous orc. You''re no use to him, little hazard Orc. Dozer''s hazard is different from yours¡­" The beast roared again, "ROOOAAARRRRR!!" its three heads snapping at the air, each movement filled with raw, destructive power. The orcs were frozen, their courage draining away as the reality of their situation sank in. They were facing a monster, a creature of pure carnage that could tear them apart with a single bite. They glanced at each other, and they could see fear and uncertainty in their eyes. Some of them were already thinking of retreating, of running for their lives, but the beasts that lurked behind them made it clear there was no escape. After all, Volk was the only reason those beasts were scared. They were trapped, surrounded on all sides by death itself. On the other hand, Volk stirred, his body aching from the impact, but his resolve remained unbroken. He could see the fear in his comrades'' eyes, he knew those were doubts that threatened to overwhelm them. But he would not let them fall to despair. With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet, even if his muscles were screaming in protest. "Lok''tar Ogar!" he roared again, his voice hoarse but filled with determination. The words were a command, a reminder of who they were and what they fought for. The other orcs hesitated, but seeing their leader stand once more, bloodied but unbowed, they found the courage within themselves to fight. One by one, they raised their weapons, their voices joining Volk''s in the battle cry. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaar!!!" They knew the odds were against them, that death was likely, but they would not go down without a fight. They would face this beast, and they would give everything they had. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaar!!!" they shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the cavern, filling the darkness with the sound of their defiance. Chapter 44 - 44: Three headed dog beatdown The cavern walls trembled as the echoes of the battle cry, "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaaaaar!" reverberated through the air. The orcs, their hearts filled with determination, were ready to face the monstrous three-headed beast, Dozer. But the fight had only just begun. Volk barely had time to regain his footing after the last blow before Dozer, with its immense speed and power, surged forward once again. One of its massive heads, larger than an orc''s entire body, snapped towards Volk with the force of a battering ram. "Kabang!" Volk was slammed into the cavern wall again, the impact shaking the entire chamber. His vision blurred as pain shot through his body, but before he could even groan, a system notification flashed before his eyes. | Ding! Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. | Would you like to use the Radioactive Form? | For a brief moment, Volk considered it. His heart pounded as he remembered the power he had unlocked within him, the form that could amplify his strength beyond imagination. But just as he was about to activate it, he caught sight of something that made him pause. One of the orcs, a broad-shouldered warrior with a fierce expression, had lunged forward while Volk was recovering. With a mighty swing of his hammer, he brought it crashing down on one of Dozer''s heads. "KABANG!" The hammer struck with incredible force, and to Volk''s amazement, the beast recoiled. A shocked silence fell over the orcs for a split second. The monster had been hurt¡ªactually hurt! Volk had assumed the beast was too powerful, too overwhelming to be harmed by conventional weapons. Yet, here it was, staggering back from the blow. "It''s¡­weak!" Volk shouted, his voice tinged with both surprise and exhilaration. "Just avoid its headbutts! Overall, it''s weak!" The orcs, who had been bracing themselves for the worst, took heart at Volk''s words. Their eyes lit up with a renewed fervor. If the beast could be hurt, then it could be defeated. With a roar, the orcs crowded forward again, weapons raised high, ready to slam all their might. Volk, still clutching his axe, barked out orders as he joined them in the charge. "Wait for its heads to swing down, then strike! Time your blows to hit the necks, right below the jaws! Don''t attack all at once¡ªhit it, then fall back! We need to tire it out, make it bleed!" The orcs responded with ferocity, each of them throwing their entire weight behind their attacks. The cavern echoed with the sounds of battle¡ªaxes cleaving through air, hammers crashing against bone, and the guttural growls of the beast. Dozer, realizing it was under attack from all sides, lashed out in fury. Its three heads moved with blinding speed, snapping and snarling, each bite capable of crushing an orc''s body in an instant. The ground trembled beneath its weight as it lunged and stomped, trying to scatter the orcs like ants. But Volk''s command held the orcs together, their movements now coordinated, their attacks precise. "Dodge to the left!" Volk shouted, and the orcs narrowly avoided a crushing headbutt from one of the beast''s massive skulls. "Now, swing at the jaw¡ªhit it hard!" Another orc, wielding a spiked club, swung with all his might, connecting with one of the beast''s jaws. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through the beast''s body, causing it to stagger once more. "Good! Now fall back¡ªdon''t let it corner you! Keep moving!" The orcs followed Volk''s lead, their attacks coming in waves. They moved in and out, striking and then retreating, always keeping just out of reach of Dozer''s snapping jaws. They were like a swarm of wasps, stinging from all sides, never staying still long enough for the beast to land a killing blow. But as the battle dragged on, the mysterious voice returned, its tone now laced with panic. "Crush them, Dozer! Crush them all, especially that hazardous orc! Kill him first!" The voice was relentless, urging Dozer to focus its wrath on Volk. The beast seemed to respond to the commands, its heads snapping towards Volk with renewed fury. But Volk was ready. "Shield wall!" he bellowed, and the orcs with shields immediately formed a barrier in front of him, blocking the beast''s advance. The force of Dozer''s charge sent the orcs sliding back, but they held firm, with their shields braced against the ground. "Now, strike its legs!" Volk ordered, and the orcs who weren''t holding shields darted forward, hacking at the beast''s legs with their axes and swords. Dozer howled in pain, its movements becoming seemingly more erratic as it tried to shake them off. "Retreat!" Volk called, and the orcs fell back just as one of Dozer''s heads swung down, missing them by inches. The beast roared in frustration, they could its red eyes glowing with an almost demonic fury. However, Volk was not focused on that, they could see the strain in the beast''s movements now. It was slowing down, its attacks becoming less coordinated. The wounds the orcs had inflicted were beginning to take their toll, it''s obvious with its blood flowing freely from gashes in its legs and necks. "We''ve got it on the ropes!" Volk shouted. "Keep pressing the attack! We''re wearing it down!" The orcs redoubled their efforts, their spirits lifted by the sight of the beast faltering. They moved with renewed energy, their strikes more precise, their coordination more fluid. Each time Dozer tried to retaliate, they were already out of reach, preparing for the next attack. But the voice in the darkness would not let up. "Dozer, you fool! Kill them! Kill the hazardous one! He''s the most dangerous of them all!" Dozer roared in response, but its movements were sluggish now, its three heads moving with less ferocity. The orcs could see it¡ªthis beast, for all its terrifying power, was just as vulnerable to pain and fatigue as any other creature. Volk, sensing the end was near, gave the final command. "Everyone, prepare for the final strike! On my signal, we attack together!" The orcs gathered their strength, their muscles burning with exhaustion but their resolve unbroken. They watched as Volk raised his axe, waiting for the moment. "Now! Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaaaaar!" The orcs charged as one, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Dozer, too slow to react, tried to snap at them with its jaws, but the orcs were too fast. They struck with all their might, their weapons biting deep into the beast''s flesh. The impact was devastating. With a final, pitiful howl, "ahoooooooorrgghhh!!" Dozer''s massive body crashed to the ground, the life draining from its three heads. Dab! Dab! Dab! The ground shook with the force of its fall, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air. The orcs stood victorious, their breaths heavy, their bodies aching. But they had done it. The beast was dead. Volk, however, felt no satisfaction. He stood over the fallen beast, his axe still gripped tightly in his hand. The battle had been hard-fought, but something gnawed at him. He hadn''t used his Radioactive Form. He hadn''t even tested the limits of his new powers. How could he gauge his true strength if he hadn''t been pushed to his limits? As he pondered this, the voice from the darkness returned, now filled with venomous rage. "You may have defeated Dozer, but you''re still nothing but a hazardous orc! You''ll never achieve your dreams! Dozer should have killed you first, you cursed freak!" The voice echoed through the cavern, a bitter reminder that their victory, while significant, was only the beginning. Volk''s grip on his axe tightened as he looked into the shadows where the voice had come from. Whoever this unseen enemy was, they would not rest until Volk was dead. But Volk was not afraid. He turned to his comrades, who were now gathering around him, he could see their eyes filled with a mix of relief and admiration. He nodded to them, but his focus was not on them. | Ding! | Mission completed. | Rewards: Radioactive Sidestep! | The host can now move three meters instantly in a direction that the host desires. | Cooldown: four seconds. | Radioactive botanical mana: 5 / 100. | For now, the battle was won, and he got a random ability reward, but somehow, Volk had a foreboding feeling that the true test of his strength has yet to come. Chapter 45 - 45: Dozer: Version 2 The battle was over, or so they thought. The monstrous three-headed beast, Dozer, lay lifeless on the ground, its massive form slowly losing the heat of life. The orcs, panting and bruised, gathered around their leader, Volk Mog''ger, their weapons still in hand but lowered, as the adrenaline of battle began to subside. One of the orcs, his face smudged with dirt and blood, was the first to speak. "Leader¡­ by the spirits, if it weren''t for you, we''d all be in that beast''s belly right now!" His voice was thick with relief and gratitude. "You led us like a true war chief, showed us exactly how to fight that monster." Another orc, a broad-shouldered brute with a long scar running down his face, nodded vigorously. "Aye, I''ve never seen anything like it. You knew where to strike, when to fall back¡­ it was like you could read our minds, Volk." The orcs all began to chime in, their voices overlapping in a chorus of thanks and admiration. "Without you, we''d have been scattered and picked off one by one." "You gave us the strength to fight, Volk. You''re a true leader." "Lok''tar Ogar!" another orc yelled, lifting his axe in a salute. Volk listened to them, a strange warmth filling his chest. He had never been one for grand speeches or basking in the adulation of others, but there was something deeply satisfying about knowing he had led these orcs to victory, that they trusted him, relied on him. Their gratitude was palpable, he could also feel their admiration were all sincere. But then, one of the orcs, a younger one with a curious glint in his eye, stepped forward and asked, "Leader¡­ How did you do that? I mean, how did you know when we were getting tired, or who was ready to strike, or who needed to defend? It was like you could feel what we were feeling." The other orcs fell silent, turning their eyes to Volk. The same question had been on all of their minds, but none had dared to voice it until now. How had he known? How had he led them with such precision, such insight? Volk hesitated for a moment, his mind was thinking what to answer. How had he known? In the heat of battle, he hadn''t had time to think about it, he had just¡­ known. But now, under their expectant gazes, he searched for an explanation. "I¡­ I don''t really know," Volk began, his voice uncertain at first. "It''s like¡­ I could feel your energy. Not just your physical strength, but something deeper. Your¡­ your green botanical energy." He paused, realizing how strange the words sounded even as he said them. The orcs exchanged confused glances. "Green botanical energy?" one of them echoed, scratching his head. "I know it sounds weird," Volk continued, trying to explain it to himself as much as to them. "But it was like there was this feeling I am familiar with the hazardous energy, like I could sense when one of you was about to falter, or when one of you had that burst of strength needed to land a decisive blow. I could feel your determination, your fear, your courage¡­ all of it because of all the hazardous magic particles moving in your bodies." The orcs stared at him. They didn''t fully understand what he was saying, but they didn''t need to. They had felt it too, in a way¡ªthis unspoken bond that had formed between them in the heat of battle. "Well, whatever it was," the scarred orc said, breaking the silence, "it worked. You led us to victory, Leader Volk. That''s all that matters." "Aye!" another orc shouted. "Lok''tar Ogar, Leader Volk!" "Lok''tar Ogar!" the others echoed, their voices rising in unison as they raised their weapons high. Volk felt a swell of pride and solidarity as he joined in their war cry. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaaaaar!!!" But just as the echoes of their triumphant shout began to fade, a cold chill swept through the cavern. It started as a low, almost inaudible sound, but quickly grew louder¡ªa laugh, twisted and filled with malice. "Kekekekkekeke¡­" The orcs'' cheers died in their throats as they turned towards the source of the eerie sound, they could feel their blood somehow running cold. The laughter grew louder, more manic. "Kehahahahahaaha¡­ it''s been almost two years¡­ I thought I would be thoroughly dissolved by that damn beast!" The voice was filled with frustration and insanity, like the ravings of a man driven to the brink of madness. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he scanned the darkness, searching for the speaker. But what he saw instead was something far more terrifying. Dozer, the massive three-headed beast they had just slain, was moving. Its body, which had lain still in the dirt, began to twitch and convulse. The orcs backed away in horror as the beast''s muscles rippled and bulged, its three heads lolling to the side as if puppets on a string. The once-ferocious eyes now stared blankly in every direction, as if no longer bound to the commands of a living mind. "What¡­ what''s happening?" one of the orcs stammered, his voice trembling with fear. The laughter continued, echoing off the cavern walls. "It''s time¡­ time for my rebirth!" Volk''s grip tightened on his axe as the beast''s body began to rise, its movements jerky and unnatural, like a marionette being pulled up by invisible strings. The air around them grew thick with a foul, rotting stench as the once-mighty Dozer was animated by a force beyond death. "You see," the voice continued, now dripping with a sickening glee, "two years ago, I entered this cave along with other students of the Dogfiend Kingdom. We were foolish, arrogant, thinking we could defeat this descendant of Cerberus, this so-called Dozer. But we were wrong¡­ oh, so wrong." The voice took on a tone of grim nostalgia, recounting the horrors of the past. "One by one, I watched my classmates fall. They were crushed, devoured, dissolved within this beast''s stomach. The stench of death was unbearable, the pain unimaginable. I thought no one¡­ no one could save me. I was resigned to my fate, my body and soul to be consumed by this monster¡­" The orcs, horrified, continued to watch as Dozer''s body fully stood up, towering over them once again. But something was different this time. The beast''s movements were more erratic, more savage, as if it were infected with some rabid disease. Its three heads jerked and snapped at the air, its eyes rolling in its skulls, dead and vacant. "But then¡­ you arrived," the voice said, now laced with a twisted kind of gratitude. "You, the hazardous orc, and your little band of warriors. You saved me¡­ you distracted Dozer just long enough for me to seize this opportunity. And now, now that I possess this body, I will show you my thanks¡­ by devouring you all!" As the voice finished its deranged monologue, a grotesque sound filled the cavern, a wet, squelching noise that sent shivers down the orcs'' spines. They watched in horror as the center head of Dozer, the one that had been in the middle of the trio, began to split open. Kwashack! Flesh and blood oozed out from the widening crack, the skin tearing apart as something emerged from within. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. From the gory wound, a bloodied humanoid creature began to crawl out. Its form was twisted and malformed, its skin slick with gore. The creature''s eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light, its mouth stretched into a grotesque grin. "Ah?" The orcs stepped back, their weapons at the ready but their hearts filled with dread. This was no longer the beast they had fought and defeated. They could feel that this was something far more terrifying, something that defied the natural order of life and death was coming out. The creature finally emerged fully from the beast''s corpse, standing tall atop the lifeless body of Dozer. It was humanoid in shape, but its features were twisted and monstrous. It had a long, spindly arm that ended in razor-sharp claws, its skin a sickly gray-green, covered in patches of matted fur and oozing sores. The creature looked down at them with its glowing yellow eyes and let out a low, menacing chuckle. "Thank you for saving me," it hissed, its voice dripping with malice. "Thank you¡­ for giving me the chance to be reborn in this glorious form. Now¡­ let me show you the power of Dozer¡­ Dozer Version Two." Chapter 46 - 46: Another One The air felt disgusting as Volk and the orcs stood face to face with the monstrous abomination that had emerged from the corpse of Dozer. The beast''s eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow light, its twisted, malformed body radiating an aura of pure malevolence. The orcs'' hearts pounded in their chests as they prepared themselves for the fight of their lives. Suddenly, a familiar chime echoed in Volk''s mind, a sound that had become all too common in this strange new world. | Ding! A system notification flashed before his eyes: | Mission triggered. | Defeat the foe Dozer: Version 2 with your tribe! | Note: Anything works! | Failure: Removal of your Sidestep ability in your normal Orc form. | Rewards: Controlled Radiation in your Radioactive Form state. | Volk''s throat went dry as he read the words. He didn''t know what "Controlled Radiation" meant, but the idea of losing his Sidestep ability was daunting. That skill could save him countless times in the future, after all, he would be vulnerable on his Radioactive form once the duration of the Radioactive form was done. The thought of Sidestep ability being taken away sent a shiver down his spine. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had a mission, and his tribe was counting on him. Volk tightened his grip on the Axe of Dissection, feeling the familiar weight of the weapon in his hands. He looked at the twisted creature before him and felt a surge of determination. He couldn''t afford to fail. "If we beat it once already, we can beat it again!" Volk bellowed, his voice echoing off the cavern walls. "That random disgusting flesh on top of one of its three heade will not change a thing! ATTAAAAAAAACCKKK!!!!" The orcs, ignited by Volk''s unyielding confidence, roared in unison. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaaaaar!!!" Their war cry filled the cavern, reverberating through the stone and striking fear into the heart of their foe. But the creature atop Dozer''s body merely sneered, its lips curling into a twisted grin. "I am not Dozer," it hissed, its voice dripping with venom. "You all won''t win against me especially if I strike you first! You filthy, hazardous, bone-eating blockheads!" Without warning, the monstrous three-headed dog, now controlled by the red elf-like creature, lunged at Volk with terrifying speed. The ground shook beneath its massive paws as it charged, one could see all its three heads snapping and snarling, with its eyes locked onto its target. The orcs, who had been ready to charge, faltered in fear as the beast bore down on their leader. Kabam! The force of the impact was like a thunderclap. The cavern floor trembled as Volk was slammed into the ground, the air forced from his lungs. Dust and debris flew up around them, obscuring the battlefield. For a moment, everything was still. The orcs stared in horror, their hearts sinking into despair. Their leader, the one who had guided them to victory before, had been struck down first! What do they do now? Without, will they make it alive? But then, through the settling dust and debris, a voice rang out, steady and strong. "I am fine." The orcs turned their heads in disbelief. There, standing tall and unharmed, was Volk. He had somehow evaded the beast''s devastating attack, his body appearing in another place entirely. The red creature on top of the three-headed dog recoiled in shock, its twisted features contorted in disbelief. "How¡­ how did you¡ª?" Volk''s voice cut through the creature''s confusion like a blade. "Don''t let me distract you! The battle is not over! ATAAAAAACK!!!" The orcs, shaken from their momentary stupor, rallied once more. "ROAAAARRRRR!!" Their leader was still standing, still fighting. And as long as Volk was with them, they would not give up. With renewed determination, they raised their weapons and charged, their war cries filling the cavern once more. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" The battle was a furious storm of steel and flesh. The three-headed dog was a blur of teeth and claws, its monstrous heads snapping at anything that came close. Volk''s orcs fought with everything they had, dodging and weaving, striking whenever an opportunity presented itself. But the creature was relentless, its power seemingly endless. "Grashk, to the left! Grok''Thar, fall back and cover the rear!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Lhum''Baggar, flank it from the right! Wait for its head to dip, then strike!" The orcs followed Volk''s commands with precision, with their movements seemingly synchronized like a well-oiled machine. They struck and retreated, timing their attacks perfectly to avoid the beast''s deadly counterstrikes. Kabang! Kabang! Kabang! Every blow they landed was a small victory, every dodge a testament to their growing skill. "Keep your distance from its heads! Wait for it to lunge, then move in!" Volk commanded, his eyes never leaving the creature. "We can wear it down! We''ve done it before!" But the red creature atop the beast would not be silenced. It cackles maniacally, its voice grating against their ears. "You think you can defeat me? You think you can stop the power of Dozer? I will crush you all! Starting with you, hazardous orc!" The beast lunged again, its massive body crashing through the ranks of the orcs. Volk sidestepped the attack again, disappearing from where he was instantly. The creature snarled in frustration, one could see its six murderous eyes were now burning with deep seething hatred. "Strike now! Its left head is exposed!" Volk shouted, pointing with his axe. Lhum''Baggar charged in, with his massive hammer held high. With a roar, "RAAAAAAARRRRHHH!!" he brought it down with all his might, the weapon connecting with a sickening crunch. CRAAAAAAACCKKKK!!! The left head of the beast recoiled, blood spraying from the wound. The red creature screamed in fury, its control over the beast faltering for just a moment. "No! How dare you! You will all die! DIE!" But Volk ignored the creature''s ravings, his focus solely on the battle. "Grashk, Grok''Thar, hit the right head while it''s distracted! Don''t give it time to recover!" The two orcs moved in tandem, their weapons slicing through the air with deadly precision. The right head of the beast snapped at them, but they were too quick, their blades cutting deep into its flesh. The beast howled in pain, its movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. "Now, everyone! together! Strike the center head! This is our chance!" Volk yelled, his voice filled with the fire of battle. The orcs charged as one, with their weapons raised high. The beast, its three heads now wounded and bleeding, could do little to defend itself. Soon, he received the strike with all their might, with their weapons buried deep into the center head''s skull. Craaaagggg!!! The beast roared in agony, its body convulsing as it struggled to remain standing. "AAAAAAAAARRGHHH!!" But the red creature was not done. "I am not finished! I will consume you all!" it shrieked, its voice cracking with madness. It pulled at the beast''s flesh, trying to force it to keep fighting, to keep moving. But the beast was at its limit. Its body was failing, its strength waning. "Push it back! Don''t give it a chance to recover!" Volk ordered, his axe flashing as he struck again and again. The orcs did not relent. They hammered the beast with everything they had, their strikes fueled by a desperate determination. Bang! Bang! Bang! The red creature screamed and cursed them, its voice growing more hysterical with each passing moment. "No! No! This can''t be happening! You filthy orcs! I will kill you all!" the creature wailed, tears of frustration and rage streaming down its face. But its threats fell on deaf ears. The orcs were beyond fear, beyond hesitation. They were fighting for their lives, and they would not stop until the beast was dead. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Finally, with one last, mighty blow, Grashk brought his hammer down on the center head. KABANG! The skull cracked, CREEAKKKKK!! bone and flesh giving way under the force of the strike. The beast''s body shuddered violently, then it collapsed to the ground with a thunderous crash. VOOMM!! The cavern fell silent, the echoes of the battle slowly fading away. The orcs stood panting, one could see their bodies battered and bruised, but alive. The three-headed beast, Dozer, lay motionless at their feet, its massive form finally defeated. But the battle was not yet over. The red creature, now lying atop the beast''s corpse, glared up at them with wild, bloodshot eyes. "You¡­ you will pay for this," it hissed, its voice trembling with fury. "I will make you all suffer¡­" But before it could utter another word, Grashk stepped forward, his hammer still in hand. Without a word, he raised the weapon high and brought it down on the creature''s head with a sickening crunch. The red creature''s body went limp, its threats silenced forever. The orcs stood in silence, their chests heaving as they caught their breath. The battle was over. They had won. However, the cost had been great, and the memory of the twisted creature''s madness would stay with them for a long time. Volk lowered his axe, his body trembling with exhaustion. But as he looked around at his tribe, at the orcs who had fought and bled by his side, he felt a deep sense of pride. They had faced the impossible, and they had prevailed. "Lok''tar Ogar," Volk whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and respect. And as the orcs echoed his words, he xouskrn help but feel at ease, each of their voices were strong and unwavering. Chapter 47 - 47: Grum-gar Dog Volk stood amid the remains of the battle, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The blood of the fallen beast pooled around his feet, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air. His orcs were celebrating their hard-won victory, their cheers echoing off the cavern walls. But despite the triumph, Volk couldn''t shake the feeling of emptiness inside him. He thought that the second version would force him to enter his Radioactive form, but it turns out, it can''t. It was defeated instantly. Suddenly, he saw the familiar screen. | Ding! | Mission completed. | Reward: Controlled Radiation in your Radioactive Form state is now given to the host. | The words floated in his vision, but they did little to fill the void inside him. The battle had ended too quickly. He hadn''t even had the chance to test his abilities or push his limits. Instead, they had merely survived, overcoming the challenge through sheer brute force rather than skill. Volk''s satisfaction was short-lived, and a strange hollowness filled his chest. ''Was that it?'' he thought to himself, staring at the bloodied ground. He had expected more¡ªwanted more. There was an undeniable itch under his skin, a craving for something greater, something that would truly challenge him. As these thoughts swirled in his mind, another notification appeared. | Ding! | New mission. | Defeat and show dominance against the Grum-gar Dozer in its fourth Grum-gar evolution. | Rewards: Team Grum-gar evolution.| Volk''s heart skipped a beat. A new mission¡ªand one that promised something called "Team Grum-gar evolution," whatever that meant. However, he had an idea. Does that mean his team would get a Grum-gar form too? He clenched his fists, feeling his pulse quicken with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The prospect of another fight¡ªan even more dangerous one¡ªsent a thrill through him, but he couldn''t ignore the unsettling mystery of the reward. What did "Team evolution" entail? Would it change him? His Dreadmaw Clan? His musings were cut short by the rumble beneath his feet. Rumble! The cavern, which had been filled with the sounds of victory moments before, fell eerily silent once again. The ground trembled violently, as though the earth itself was groaning in protest. Volk''s eyes widened, and he barked orders without hesitation. "Get back!" The orcs, instinctively trusting their leader, immediately scrambled backward, forming a defensive line. Their earlier celebration was replaced by tense anticipation as they scanned the cavern for the source of the disturbance. "Is it not the end yet?" Grashk asked, his voice laced with disbelief. His grip tightened around his weapon as he glanced nervously at Volk. Volk''s expression was grim as he shook his head. "I''m afraid not." As if on cue, a massive, familiar laughter echoed through the cavern, sending shivers down the spines of the orcs. It was a sound they had heard before¡ªmaniacal and mocking, filled with a twisted glee that chilled their blood. ''''Kekekkekekkekeke! Nyekekekekekek!'''' The air felt like it was closing in one direction with the tension as the orcs watched in horror. The corpse of the three-headed beast that had been lying lifeless on the ground began to twitch. Slowly, impossibly, it began to rise again, its massive form shaking off the remnants of death as if it were merely waking from a deep slumber. "What in the gods'' names¡­?" one of the orcs muttered, his voice trembling with fear. The beast''s flesh writhed and shifted, the red, fleshy humanoid creature atop the center head reassembling itself from the blood and gore. Its body grew larger, more muscular, with veins bulging grotesquely beneath its skin. The creature''s long ears twitched as it surveyed the orcs with a sinister grin, its eyes glinting with malice. "You thought you had won," the creature hissed, its voice dripping with contempt. "But you''ve only managed to anger Dozer¡ªand me. I should thank you, really. Without your interference, I might have remained dormant, trapped within this beast''s decaying flesh. But now¡­ now I am reborn." The orcs bristled at the creature''s words, but none dared to move. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he studied the creature, trying to gauge its new power. It was undeniably stronger than before¡ªhe could feel the oppressive weight of its presence, pressing down on them like a physical force. The red humanoid creature seemed to delight in their fear, its grin widening as it began to speak again. "Dozer, you see, has always had a taste for Hornless Orcs. It''s his favorite delicacy. The reason why? Because like you,"¡ªthe creature pointed a long, clawed finger at Volk and his tribe¡ª"he has a Grum-gar form too." The orcs exchanged uneasy glances. The term "Grum-gar" was not one they were familiar with, but the way the creature spoke it sent a chill through their bones. Does that mean? The orcs shuddered at the creature''s words, their fear mounting with each passing moment. Grashk, his curiosity getting the better of him, spoke up. "If he''s so powerful, why didn''t he use that form earlier? We killed him twice! How come the three-headed dungeon boss couldn''t stop us?" The creature''s head snapped toward Grashk, its eyes narrowing dangerously. "Do you really want to know?" it hissed, its voice laced with venom. Volk and the other orcs braced themselves, unsure of what to expect. The creature''s presence was overwhelming, and its words seemed to seep into their very souls, planting seeds of doubt and fear. But despite their trepidation, the orcs couldn''t deny their curiosity. They wanted to know¡ªneeded to know¡ªwhat they were up against. The creature''s grin returned, wider and more sinister than before. "Kekekekeke¡­ very well. I''ll tell you," it said, its voice dripping with malevolence. "Dozer is not just any beast. He is a Grum-gar¡ªa creature born of ancient magic, a relic of a time when the world was young and the gods still walked among mortals. His power is tied to his consumption of flesh, particularly the flesh of Hornless Orcs. The more he devours, the stronger he becomes. But to reach his full potential, to ascend to his true form, he must consume not just flesh, but the very essence of his prey." The creature''s eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as it watched the orcs'' reactions. "And that is why he chose this form, this three-headed monstrosity. It allows him to consume more efficiently, to absorb the essence of his prey and grow stronger with each kill. But he is patient, oh so patient. He waits, biding his time, until he has consumed enough to evolve, to transcend his current form." S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The orcs exchanged uneasy glances, the creature''s words seemed fake. Why the hell is he rambling useless sh*t? "And now," the creature continued, its voice rising to a fever pitch, "you have given him the opportunity to evolve once more. To ascend to his third Grum-gar form¡ªthe most powerful, the most terrifying. And when he does, there will be nothing left of you but bones and ash. Kekekekeke¡­" The creature''s laughter echoed through the cavern, sending chills down the spines of the orcs. It was a sound filled with madness, a twisted joy that seemed to revel in their impending doom. Volk''s mind raced as he processed the creature''s words. The creature''s laughter suddenly stopped, and it fixed Volk with a piercing gaze. "You really want to know why Dozer didn''t evolve earlier?" it asked, its voice low and dangerous. "You see, you see, you see, I was lying all this time, because the truth is, the truth is, the truth is, I am, I am¡­" The creatures leaned closer to it, like a madman. "A WARLOCK!" Chapter 48 - 48: Warlock Zenveil When the creature revealed itself as a warlock, it began to laugh uncontrollably, a high-pitched, unhinged cackle that reverberated through the cavern. The laughter was so intense, so manic, that it sent a cold shiver down Volk''s spine. The orcs around him, who had been tense and on edge, were suddenly gripped by an unnatural fear. "Yes!" the warlock screamed between fits of laughter. "Yes, Dozer is already dead! He is nothing more than a lifeless husk! A body that I, Warlock Zenveil, control! I am the master! I am the one who bends his will to my own! He is my puppet, and you¡­ you are nothing more than my playthings!" As Zenveil''s words echoed through the cavern, Volk felt a strange, unsettling sensation wash over him. It was as if the very air around him had shifted, thickening with an oppressive force. When the warlock had revealed his identity, it was as though a shockwave had rippled through the space, altering the atmosphere and making it heavy with dread. Volk heard the clang of weapons falling to the ground, one after another. Turning to look behind him, his eyes widened in shock. His brethren¡ªthe fierce, battle-hardened orcs¡ªstood paralyzed, their faces contorted in expressions of sheer terror. Their eyes were wide, unblinking, fixed on Warlock Zenveil with a look that bordered on horror. "What¡­?" Volk began to ask, his voice trembling. But as he opened his mouth to speak, he felt it too¡ªa primal dread that seized his body, locking his muscles in place. His breath caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could its frantic drumbeat that echoed in his ears. What''s going on? he thought, panic setting in. He could feel the fear crawling up his spine, a cold, clammy sensation that made his skin prickle. Warlock Zenveil''s laughter grew louder, more deranged. "Grahahahahahahha! The sight of the orcs frozen in fear seemed to delight him, and he spoke with a tone of maniacal amusement. "Ah, the Hornless Orc tribe¡­ my favorite," he purred, savoring the words. "The best subjects for our scientific experiments. You see, the Hornless Orcs possess something unique, something special¡­ something that we warlocks find irresistible." The warlock began to circle the orcs slowly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Do you know what we warlocks love to do with your kind? We like to see what makes you tick, what makes you suffer. Let me share a few of our¡­ experiments with you." He pointed at one of the paralyzed orcs, his finger trembling with excitement. "First, we like to test your pain tolerance. We push your bodies to the brink, see how much you can endure before you break. We peel away your flesh, layer by layer, while you scream for mercy. But we do not grant it. Oh no, we enjoy watching you writhe, watching your souls wither in agony." Zenveil turned his gaze to another orc, who stood rigid with fear. "Second, we experiment with your minds. We delve deep into your thoughts, your memories. We strip away your sanity, bit by bit, until you''re nothing more than a hollow shell of your former self. We twist your reality, warp it until you can no longer tell what is real and what is an illusion. You become our puppets, your will bent to ours, your mind shattered." He stepped closer to Volk, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "Third, we love to play with your Grum-gar form. The ability to turn into an Ogre¡­ it''s fascinating, really. We''ve dissected many of your kind to learn how it works. We''ve experimented with fusing other creatures to your Grum-gar form, creating monstrous abominations that are neither orc nor beast. We take pleasure in watching you transform, watching your bodies twist and contort in pain as the transformation takes hold." Finally, Zenveil''s eyes glittered with malevolence as he spoke the last of his examples. "And fourth, we study your fear. We push you to the edge of despair, see how far we can drive you before you lose all hope. We force you to face your deepest, darkest fears, to confront the nightmares that haunt you. And when you are at your most vulnerable, when you are begging for the sweet release of death¡­ we deny it to you. We keep you alive, so that you can suffer just a little bit more." The warlock''s words sent a wave of revulsion through Volk. His mind reeled as he recalled the memories of the orc he had possessed¡ªtheir fear of warlocks and dark elves had seemed exaggerated at the time, a paranoia born of superstition. But now, standing before Zenveil, Volk understood that their fear had been all too real. The dread he felt was unlike anything he had ever experienced, like it was a terror so deep and primal that it rooted him to the spot, rendering him helpless. Suddenly, Volk was struck by a flashback. The feeling was eerily familiar, bringing him back to a time in his previous life when he had been trapped in a wheelchair, paralyzed and powerless. He remembered the helplessness, the frustration of being unable to move, to fight back against the world around him. He recalled the days when he had been completely dependent on others, when he had been forced to watch life pass him by, unable to participate. He remembered the stares, the pity in the eyes of those who looked down on him, and the burning resentment that had simmered within him. He remembered four specific instances that had scarred him deeply. The first was the time when he had been stranded in his wheelchair in the middle of a busy street, unable to cross because the sidewalk was too high for him to navigate. Cars had zoomed past him, honking their horns, but no one had stopped to help. He had felt utterly helpless, a prisoner in his own body. The second memory was of a hospital stay, when he had been confined to a bed for weeks, unable to move without assistance. The doctors and nurses had treated him like a child, speaking to him in condescending tones, as if his physical disability had somehow diminished his intellect. He had seethed with anger, but there had been nothing he could do. The third memory was of a family gathering, where he had been left alone in a corner while everyone else enjoyed themselves. No one had bothered to include him in the festivities, and he had felt invisible, like a ghost haunting a world that no longer had a place for him. The fourth and final memory was of a particularly humiliating experience, when he had been forced to ask for help with something as simple as opening a door. The person he had asked had looked at him with pity, as if he were a burden, and had reluctantly assisted him. The shame and frustration had eaten away at him, leaving a deep scar on his soul. No, Volk thought fiercely. I won''t be helpless again. I won''t be trapped like this! With every ounce of strength he could muster, Volk fought against the paralysis that gripped him. His muscles bulged and trembled as he tried to move, and not long, he finally let out a guttural scream, pushing himself to break free. "Haaaaaaaarrrggghhhh!!!" Warlock Zenveil''s eyes widened in surprise, and he clapped his hands in mock applause. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Impressive! Truly impressive!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You, the most hazardous Orc I have ever seen, are quite peculiar. You can lead, you can disappear when attacked, and now you''re trying to overcome the primal fear that all warlocks have instilled in your race? Remarkable!" The warlock''s tone shifted, becoming more menacing. His eyes gleamed with a sadistic curiosity as he took a step closer to Volk. "How about I make you a part of my experiment?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. Volk continued to struggle, his teeth gritted in determination. But the warlock''s words sent a chill down his spine, and he couldn''t help but listen as Zenveil began to speak of the experiments he had yet to complete. "You see," Zenveil said, his voice filled with dark amusement, "there are so many things I''ve yet to try. So many¡­ possibilities. For example, I could take your hazardous form and see what happens when I expose it to pure, concentrated darkness. What would become of you then, I wonder? Would you become a creature of the night, or would you simply cease to exist?" He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Or perhaps I could fuse your Grum-gar form with another creature, something more¡­ volatile. A reptile, perhaps? Imagine the power you would wield, the destruction you could cause. Of course, the process would be excruciatingly painful, but that''s all part of the fun, isn''t it?" Zenveil''s eyes glinted with malevolence as he considered his options. "I could also experiment with your mind, delve deep into your thoughts and memories, twist them until you no longer recognize yourself. I could make you believe that you are something else entirely¡ªa beast, a monster, a mindless slave. "Or I could strip away your will, turn you into nothing more than a puppet, dancing on my strings and would do anything I tell it to do. But that would be too boring, I''ll do that once I''m done with experiments of everyone around you! Hahaha" After that, Zenveil was not done. But someone on his face appeared. "Eat this!" Chapter 49 - 49: Orcs Bloodline fear The cave echoed with the sound of dripping water amidst the bone armored Orcs who were frozen in fear. The dim light from the phosphorescent moss barely illuminated the jagged rocks lining the cavern''s walls. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the pungent odor of the three-headed beast, Dozer. Its low growl reverberated through the space, a deep rumble that seemed to shake the very ground beneath their feet. As Zenveil kept talking, Volk''s figure appeared near his face in a blur. He moved with a swift, almost inOrcish grace, with his form sidestepped through the shadows as though they were part of him. However, the faint clink of his armor was drowned out by the beast''s guttural snarls. And before he could launch an attack, Warlock Zenveil, perched atop the massive creature, flicked his wrist dismissively. Volk felt a force slam into him. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Kabang! His body crashed against the rough stone of the cave wall, sending a shower of dust and debris into the air. But Volk was ready. With a grunt, he planted his feet against the wall, absorbing the impact. He slid down, landing in a crouch, eyes narrowing as he glared at Zenveil. The Warlock''s smile was mocking, with his maniacal gaze dripping with arrogance as he said, "Predictable." Volk muttered under his breath, "I am not done!" shaking off the pain. He was thinking of using his Radioactive form, ''is it time?'' he thought. Zenveil''s smirk widened as if he could hear Volk''s thoughts. "Still the same tricks, hazardous Orc?" he sneered. "You can try that as many times as you want until I make you realize it''s useless before me." Volk''s jaw tightened, but before he could retort, a shadow loomed behind Zenveil. The air seemed to grow heavier, the ground trembling with the weight of something massive. Emerging from the darkness was a hulking figure, green and grotesque, but not towering over even the monstrous size of Dozer who was in Warlock''s control. Volk''s breath hitched as he stared at the creature. It was an Ogre, a being of brute strength and ferocity. But there was something familiar about its face, though it was twisted into a more monstrous version of itself, he was somewhat very familiar. Zenveil smirked on the top of the three headed Dozer, "Interesting, another one who couldn''t make it? Didn''t your ancestors and instincts tell you to not use your form against me?" "ME, GRASHK," the Ogre boomed, his voice like a landslide crashing down a mountain. The words were simple, the sentences clipped, but the power behind them was undeniable. "SWING WEAPON TO WARLOOOOOCK!" Grashk, in his Grum-gar Ogre form, swung his massive club with a force that whistled through the air. Whoosh! The weapon connected with Dozer''s side, the impact resonating through the cavern. The three-headed dog-beast snarled, its heads snapping toward Grashk, jaws dripping with saliva. But Grashk was undeterred, his strength seemingly inexhaustible as he pressed the attack, each swing of his weapon sending shockwaves through the ground. Thud! Crack! Volk watched, still seated where he had landed, his mind reeling. Grashk¡­ He was different now, transformed into this hulking behemoth, yet there was no mistaking the Orc warrior beneath the monstrous exterior. But before Volk could rise to join the fray, Zenveil''s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Hazardous Orc," Zenveil called out, his tone eerily calm despite the battle raging around him. His eyes locked onto Volk with a piercing intensity. "You''re their leader, aren''t you? Do you even know why your kind fears us Warlocks?" Volk''s expression hardened, but he remained silent, his gaze locked on Zenveil''s smug face. The Warlock''s lips curled into a smile, cold and cruel. "It''s because we have power over you," Zenveil continued, his voice laced with condescension. "We can turn your precious Grum-gar warriors back into the weaklings they truly are." Before Volk could respond, Zenveil raised his hand, and with a swift, almost lazy motion, directed Dozer toward Grashk. The beast lunged, its three heads snapping with terrifying speed and precision. Snap! Snap! Snap! The jaws clamped down on Grashk''s limbs, and with a violent shake, the massive Ogre was slammed against the cave walls. Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound of Grashk''s body hitting the stone was like thunder, the force enough to send cracks spider webbing across the surface. Volk could only watch as Grashk''s form was battered against the floor and walls, making the ground tremble with each brutal impact. Dust and rocks rained down from above, the noise deafening in the enclosed space. And then, with a final, powerful throw, Dozer hurled Grashk into the air. Hacha! Zenveil''s eyes gleamed with dark energy as he reached out with his humanoid hand, touching Grashk''s battered form mid-air. The air around them shimmered with an unnatural energy, a sickly green light emanating from Zenveil''s touch. Slowly, to Volk''s horror, Grashk began to change. The massive, grotesque form of the Grum-gar Ogre began to shrink, the bulging muscles receding, the monstrous features softening. It was as though the strength was being drained from him, his power siphoned away by Zenveil''s cursed magic. Grashk''s roars turned into agonized groans as his body twisted and contorted, shrinking down until he was once again the Orc Volk recognized. His skin lost its greenish hue, his body shrinking and shriveling, until he was nothing more than a broken figure, weak and vulnerable. Grashk''s eyes, once full of rage and power, now held only pain and fear as he was thrown to the ground with a sickening thud! The other Orcs gasped, their disbelief palpable as they watched their formidable warrior reduced to his original, weakened form. They could hardly believe what they had seen, the sight of their comrade¡ªa warrior who had been a symbol of their strength¡ªnow laying crumpled on the cold stone. Zenveil''s gaze flicked back to Volk, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "And that," he said, his voice dripping with superiority, "is why Orcs fear Warlocks. Because we can take away what makes you strong. Anytime we want." The words were like a heavy sledgehammer dropped to their head, a final, crushing blow to the Orcs'' morale. Soon, silence descended on the cave, broken only by the shallow, labored breaths of Grashk as he lay motionless on the ground. The other Orcs looked to Volk, their eyes filled with desperation and uncertainty. For a moment, Volk remained still, his body tense, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes were seeing things, grappling with the horror of what he had just witnessed. But then, something inside him snapped into place¡ªa fierce, unyielding resolve. He pushed himself up from the ground, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, but he ignored the pain. His eyes locked onto Zenveil, blazing with a fire that could not be extinguished. "HE''S LYING!" Volk roared, with his voice echoing through the cavern, cutting through the fear that had taken hold of his comrades. The sheer force of his words seemed to shake them from their stupor. "MAG''DUROTANS!!!" He shouted out loud! "HE NEEDED TO BEAT GRASHK FIRST TO MAKE HIM TURN BACK TO NORMAL! AS LONG AS WE BEAT HIM UP AND DON''T GET INJURED TOO MUCH, I BELIEVE WE CAN BEAT HIM!" The other Orcs stirred at his words, the light of hope rekindling in their eyes. Volk''s presence, his unwavering confidence, and the familiar strong look in his eyes was like a beacon in the darkness. It gave them something to hold onto, something to fight for. The Warlock might have power, but Volk had something they believed¡ªhe could see through the hazardous magic particles! "DREADMAW CLAN! BEAT THIS THREE HEADED DOG UP AGAIN! IT''S TIME TO PAINT OUR HANDS WITH WARLOCK''S BLOOD!" Zenveil''s smile faltered, just for a moment, as he saw the renewed fire in the Orcs'' eyes. But it was enough. Volk took a step forward, and then another, his gaze never leaving Zenveil''s. He was ready to fight, to lead his people, no matter the odds. Because this time, it''s time to turn into his Radioactive form! Chapter 50 - 50: TO BATTLE! "YOU REALLY!!" Zenveil''s voice was a thunderclap in the cavern, filled with a fury that echoed off the jagged walls. Before Volk could react, the Warlock and his monstrous steed, Dozer, were already upon him. The air split with a booming sound, and in the blink of an eye, Zenveil''s sneering face was inches from Volk''s. Bang! The massive paw of the three-headed beast, controlled with precision by Zenveil''s dark magic, swung toward Volk with blinding speed. KaBang! The impact was like a boulder colliding with Volk''s chest. The force drove him deep into the earth, with the ground swallowing him in a cloud of dust and debris. His bones groaned under the heavy pressure, and for a moment, the world was nothing but a blur of pain. His mind spun, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue. But even as the world dimmed around him, Volk clung to consciousness, his heart pounding in defiance. He wasn''t dead. Not yet. GRAAAAAAHHHHH!!! The other Orcs, standing at the ready, felt the tremor in the ground as Volk was buried beneath it. Rumble! They knew he was still alive, and could feel the pulse of his life force even beneath the tons of rock and dirt. Without hesitation, they turned their attention to Zenveil, ignoring the snarling beast in front of them. Their eyes gleamed with a single-minded determination. They were now Grum-gar Orcs, born and bred not for battle anymore, but violence. They wouldn''t wait for Dozer to turn its attention back to them. With a collective roar, the Grum-gar Orcs charged forward, weapons raised high. GURRAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!! GRAAAAAAGGHHAAAAAAHHH!!! The cavern echoed with the clashing of metal and the guttural cries of war. The Orcs in their Grum-gar forms were nothing short of terrifying, one could their bodies swollen with muscle and rage. They were a force of nature, raw and untamed, their movements fueled by sheer brute strength. There was no finesse in their attacks, only violence¡ªpure, unrelenting violence. One Grum-gar Orc swung his heavy axe toward Zenveil''s head. Swoosh! The air whistled as the weapon descended, but Zenveil was quick. The Warlock ducked, the blade missing him by mere inches. But the Orc was undeterred, his momentum carrying him forward. He slammed into Zenveil with the full weight of his massive body. Bang! The impact sent Zenveil staggering back, his dark robes fluttering as he struggled to regain his footing. Another Orc, his eyes wild with fury, lunged at Zenveil, claws extended like a predator going in for the kill. He swiped at Zenveil''s chest, tearing through fabric and flesh alike. Rip! Blood splattered onto the stone floor, but Zenveil barely flinched. He hissed in pain, his eyes narrowing as he lashed out with a curse. "DAMNED BRAINDEAD ORCS!" But the Grum-gar Orcs weren''t done. They were relentless, driven by the primal need to crush their enemy, turn it to pieces. One of them bit into Zenveil''s shoulder, teeth sinking deep into flesh. Crunch! The Warlock howled in agony, "Aaaaarrghh???" his voice a mix of rage and disbelief. He tried to shake the Orc off, but the creature held firm, his jaws locked tight. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "GET OUTTTTT YOU SHHIIITTT!!!" Another Orc slammed into Zenveil''s side with a bone-crushing headbutt, the sound of skull meeting bone resonating through the cavern. Thud! Zenveil cursed again, his voice a low, venomous snarl. He could feel his control slipping, the seething rage within him boiling over. "You... WORTHLESS... VERMIN!" His voice cracked as he spoke, the words dripping with malice. But the Orcs were past hearing. They were lost to the bloodlust, their only goal to tear Zenveil apart, piece by piece. One by one, the Orcs attacked, their strikes chaotic, their movements unpredictable. There was no strategy, no coordination. Just brute force. An Orc leaped onto Zenveil''s back, clawing and tearing at his robes, trying to drag him down. Another lunged at Zenveil''s legs, his powerful jaws snapping at the Warlock''s knees, trying to bring him to the ground. Snap! Zenveil was surrounded, his vision filled with nothing but snarling faces and swinging weapons. His own magic surged in response, dark energy crackling at his fingertips as he tried to fend them off. But there were too many, and they were too strong. Their blows landed with sickening force, each one driving him further into a corner. Bang! Crack! Volk, deep beneath the ground, felt the vibrations of the battle above. The pain that wracked his body was like fire, burning through every nerve even though he was still in Radioactive Form, he didn''t expect this. However, what he didn''t know was that it was the fear that truly paralyzed him. The hesitation that gnawed at his heart, holding him back from unleashing his true raging potential. The old Grak''thor''s words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his limitations. A Labor Orc like you¡­ can only mutate twice. What if it was true? What if this was his limit? What if he transformed again and didn''t get stronger and stronger, but instead, he just burned out the time back to his Orc form and got killed? He could feel the energy inside him, the radioactive power that had once saved him in battle. But if he tapped into it now, what would be left of him? Would he even survive? What if his power is enough! What if this power is restricted like his Grum-gar form? Can only only powered up twice. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with both pain and fear. He was angry¡ªfurious, even¡ªbut the anger was tainted by something else. Something darker. The fear of the unknown. The fear of dying. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His mind was a storm, torn between the urge to fight and the fear of what that fight might cost him. Volk''s growl echoed through the earth around him. GRAAAAAAAGGHH!!!!! The sound was deep and guttural, vibrating through the stones like a distant earthquake. He could feel the weight of the earth above him, pressing down on his chest, trying to smother him. But he wasn''t ready to die. Not yet. With a snarl, he bit down on his tongue, he instantly felt the sharp pain cutting through the fog of fear that clouded his mind and he got angry! He forced himself to move, feeling his muscles straining as he began to dig through the earth. Not long, his hands clawed at the dirt, tearing through rock and stone as he burrowed upward. The pain in his body was a distant memory now, drowned out by the sheer force of his will. He could feel the anger building inside him as clawed up, a burning rage that threatened to consume him entirely. But he embraced it, welcomed it, letting it fuel his every movement. Growl! Scratch! Dig! Above, the battle raged on. Zenveil, now pushed to his limit, felt his control slipping further with every passing second. The Orcs were like a mindless muscle swarm, their sheer numbers overwhelming. His vision blurred, the world spinning as he staggered backward, trying to put distance between himself and the relentless horde. However, there was no escape. The Orcs were everywhere, biting, clawing, tearing at his flesh with an almost animalistic ferocity. "YOU DAMNED ORCS!" Zenveil screamed, his voice raw with frustration and pain. His hands glowed with dark energy, the power within him surging as he unleashed a wave of magic. After that, the muscle of the three headed Dozer began to expand with massive force. Kabam! The force of it sent several Grum-gar Orcs flying, and then one could see their bodies crashing against the cave walls with bone-jarring impacts. Boom! Bang! But the victory was short-lived. The Grum-gar Orcs picked themselves up, with their eyes blazing with undiminished and even fury. They were beyond pain, beyond fear. They were driven by something far more primal¡ªthe need to destroy, to obliterate their enemy, no matter the cost. And then, something changed. Zenveil''s eyes narrowed as he felt the power within him shifting, growing. The dark magic that had fueled him for so long now seemed to be feeding on his anger, his desperation. His body began to swell, muscles expanding as his form grew larger and larger. His laughter filled the cavern, deep and sinister. "HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA!" The Grum-gar Orcs faltered, their charge slowing as they beheld the transformation before them. Slowly, Zenveil and Dozer''s body had become a towering behemoth, his once human form now monstrous, grotesque. Whole Dozer became taller and wider. He loomed over the Orcs, and each of them seemed to feel his body radiating dark energy that crackled in the air around them. The Grum-gar Orcs, who had moments ago been filled with nothing but bloodlust, now hesitated. Fear crept into their eyes as they realized the sheer scale of the creature before them. They had been warriors, yes, but this? This was something else entirely. Zenveil''s laugh echoed in the cavern, a sound that was more beast than man. He relished the fear in their eyes, the way they shrank back from him. "YOU''RE NOTHING!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the very walls of the cave. "NOTHING!" But then, the ground beneath them trembled. A crack appeared in the stone, snaking its way across the cavern floor with a low, rumbling growl. The Orcs'' eyes widened in shock as the crack grew larger, spreading outward like a spider''s web. And then, with a deafening boom!, the ground exploded upward. Volk emerged from the earth like a force of nature, one could see his body was still coated in dirt and blood, and his eyes were burning with a fire that had not been there before. His fist was already in the move as he erupted from the ground, GURAAAA!! a blur of movement that Zenveil barely had time to register. BAM! Volk''s fist connected with the jaw of the center head of the three headed beast where Zenveil was. Chapter 51 - 51: Deep-rooted despair The cave was silent for a split second after Volk''s fist connected with the dog''s chin. However, silence was quickly shattered as the massive back paw of Dozer, the three-headed beast, flicked Volk away like a ragdoll. Bang! The sound echoed through the cavern, and it was heard there was a mixture of bone and muscle crackers. Crack! Crack!! Volk flew forward, his body cutting through the air like a missile. Swoosh! He slammed into the wall, with the impact sending shockwaves through his body. KAboom! For Volk, the world blurred for a moment, his vision swimming as the pain set in. Boooom! Boom boom boom bOoomm! S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The wall behind him cracked under the force, with some explosion of dust and debris raining down around him. Groaning, GRRRR Volk pushed himself out of the crater he had created, his muscles screaming in protest. AGAARRGGH!! His face contorted with rage as he staggered to his feet, the fire in his eyes burning brighter than ever. But then he saw it. The sheer size of the creature before him, its hulking form casting an ominous shadow over the cavern. Immediately, his anger faltered, his body unconsciously coming to a halt. Volk''s eyes widened as he looked around at the rest of his horde. The other Orcs, once mighty in their Grum-gar forms, were now trembling. Their bodies began to shrink, the power that had surged through their veins draining away. One by one, some of them began to revert to their normal Orc forms, with fear etched into their body tremors. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as he felt his own body begin to tremble too. The muscular muscles in his legs spasmed uncontrollably, his fear rising like bile in his throat. He could barely keep his balance, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of his terror. His mind raced, a maelstrom of confusion and dread. What was happening? Why was he so afraid? Zenveil, perched atop the central head of the monstrous pitbull, let out a maniacal laugh that echoed through the cavern. The sound was harsh, grating on Volk''s ears like nails on a chalkboard. GRAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!! Zenveil''s voice was filled with twisted glee, the laughter bubbling up from deep within his chest. His hands moved in quick, precise gestures, each motion accompanied by a sharp crackle of energy. The air around him seemed to vibrate with power, the very stones of the cavern quaking in response to his command. "That''s it!" Zenveil shouted, his voice rising in pitch as his laughter grew louder. "That''s it! That''s the only thing you should do against the superior race! My Warlock race!" The words hit Volk like a physical blow, his mind reeling as Zenveil''s voice filled every corner of his consciousness. "Your job was to serve us," Zenveil continued, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Despair in our presence and tremble before our power!" Volk could feel the truth of Zenveil''s words in every fiber of his being. His muscles quivered uncontrollably. He could feel the terror clawing at his insides, like some primal instinct to flee screaming in his mind. But there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide from the cave of this Catacomb! Zenveil''s voice took on a mocking tone as he continued his speech, his words cutting through Volk''s fear like a knife. "This is what happens to Orcs who dare to defy a superior race!" Zenveil spat, his eyes gleaming with malevolent delight. "This is the fate of those who challenge their betters. Look at yourselves! To us, you''re all nothing but insects, trembling before my might!" Volk''s heart sank as he looked around at the other Orcs. Their fear was palpable, one could see their bodies slowly huddling together like a group of frightened children. Their eyes were wide with terror, and their hands shaking uncontrollably as they clung to their weapons for dear life. But those weapons were useless now. The Orcs'' once mighty strength had been sapped away, leaving them vulnerable and weak. "Because now," Zenveil continued, his voice growing louder, more triumphant, "from the fifth Mag''Durotan body of Dozer, I stand before you in my Grum-gar form, just like all of you! But I am now comparable to a 21st Mender of Orc''s Mag''Durotan!" Volk''s blood ran cold at Zenveil''s words. The 21st Mender among the Orcs was a nightmare, a warrior whose power was unmatched low level Mag''Durotan like him. And now, Zenveil was claiming to have achieved that same level of power. "YES!" Zenveil roared, his voice echoing through the cavern like a thunderclap. "YES! THIS IS THE POWER OF US WARLOCKS! WE EXTEND YOUR POWERS TO TOP NOTCHES ONCE WE GOT A HOLD OF YOUR BODIES!" Zenveil''s eyes locked onto Volk''s, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "And you," Zenveil sneered, "you and your pathetic horde are nothing compared to me! Not a single one of you has even awakened your Third Grum-gar Mutation! HAHAHAHAHA!" The laughter that followed was a sound of pure evil, a twisted, mocking laugh that sent shivers down Volk''s spine. As if on cue, the Grum-gar forms of the other Orcs began to fade completely, their bodies shrinking back to their normal sizes. The power that had once surged through their veins was gone, replaced by a crushing sense of helplessness. The fear in their eyes was undeniable now, an overwhelming terror that gripped them with iron chains. Some Orcs dropped their weapons, with them cold steels clattering to the ground as their hands shook too violently to hold on. Others simply fell to their knees, with their bodies wracked with uncontrollable shivers. They were broken, their spirits crushed beneath the weight of Zenveil''s power. Volk was the only one left in his Grum-gar form, his body still swollen with muscle and rage. But even he couldn''t escape the fear that gripped his heart. His eyes were wide with terror as he stared up at the monstrous creature before him. Zenveil''s words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of the overwhelming power that stood against him. Why was he so afraid? The question tore at Volk''s mind, a gnawing doubt that threatened to consume him. Was it because he knew, deep down, that he was just like the other Orcs? That his Grum-gar form, no matter how powerful it seemed, was just a facade? Volk''s thoughts raced back to the words Grak''thor had spoken to him long ago. A Labor Orc like you¡­ can only mutate twice. The words haunted him since then, a constant reminder of his limitations. The other Orcs could grow stronger over time, their mutations increasing with each battle. But Volk? He was stuck. Trapped in the body of a Labor Orc, with his potential capped at the second mutation because he is just a Labor Orc. It is the Labor Orcs curse! So Volk''s limit was two. He was nothing. All his triumph, all his achievement will become nothing one day. That''s what Volk fears the most! That''s what he fears from the very bottom of his heart. But he knew this fear wasn''t new. It was old, ancient, a deep-seated terror that had haunted him his entire life. Back on Earth, Volk had been in a wheelchair. He had a weak and vulnerable body. An easy prey for those who sought to hurt him. His cousin''s boyfriend had been one of those people, a cruel man who had taken pleasure in tormenting him. The abuse had gone on for years, leaving Volk scarred both physically and mentally. When Volk had finally gathered the courage to report the abuse, his cousin had turned on him, defending her boyfriend with all her might. The betrayal had cut deep, leaving Volk more isolated and broken than ever. He had tried to fight back, but every attempt had ended in failure. Constant punch in the stomach, even if he fights back, it''s useless. Each defeat had added another layer to the fear that now gripped his heart. The boyfriend''s taunts echoed in Volk''s mind, a constant reminder of his weakness. "I''m superior to you because I''m not disabled like you," the boyfriend had sneered, the words cutting Volk to the bone. "There''s nothing you can do to stop me, so don''t take my girlfriend''s time too much because she is only for me to enjoy. Heh! Ooooh¡­ I''m gonna bang your cousin and make sure you listen carefully because I know you won''t be able to enjoy something like that! Hahahaha!" The fear had only grown over time, feeding on itself until it became a part of Volk''s very being. He had been powerless then, just as he was now. The only thing that had saved him back then was his uncle, a man who had stepped in to protect Volk when no one else would. But there was no one to save him now. No one to protect him from the monster that stood before him. The fear twisted in Volk''s gut, making him want to curl up and hide. His unconscious could feel that he was just as powerless now as he had been back then. Just as weak. Zenveil''s voice cut through Volk''s thoughts like a knife, sounding more sharp and cruel than ever. "What''s wrong, leader? Don''t use you want to fight back? Do you want this to end like this without any kind of twist for the sake of my fun for my awespiring revival?" Zenveil taunted, his tone dripping with malice. "Give it up! There''s no adult Orc here to save you. No one to protect you from me. You''re alone, and you''re weak. Krahahahha!!" Chapter 52 - 52: Taunting more With cruel delight, Zenveil could see the fear in the annoying hazardous orc''s eyes. It was intoxicating, a delicious thrill that sent shivers of pleasure down Zenveil''s spine. But it''s not enough, he wanted Volk to be fully consumed by fear and turn into his normal Orc form! He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, sinister whisper that echoed through the cavern like a death knell. "Thank me," Zenveil hissed, his words laced with venom. "Thank me for what I''ve done for you, little green buzzwark. You should be on your knees, groveling in gratitude for the mercy I''ve shown. "Do you know why you''re still alive? Why are you still standing in your Grum-gar form when all your comrades have reverted back to their pathetic, weak selves?" Volk''s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, his thoughts too jumbled to form a coherent response. His heart pounded in his chest, with rapid thudding drowning out all rational thought. He could only stare up at Zenveil, with his body frozen in place as the Warlock continued to speak. "It''s because of me, little guy," Zenveil continued, his voice a twisted blend of pride and malice. "I stopped Dozer from killing you all. He wanted to, you know. He wanted to rip you to shreds, to bathe in the blood of your pathetic horde because he can turn into a Grum-gar form after eating a whole lot of like your hornless Orc race. But I stopped him. I held him back, kept him in check. Why? Because I wanted to savor this moment. I want to see you all think that you have chances and see the look on your face when you realize just how powerless you really are." Volk''s body trembled as Zenveil''s words sank in, the truth of them twisting like a knife in his gut. It wasn''t just the physical pain that tore at him, but the sheer hopelessness of his situation. The knowledge that Zenveil had the power to end him at any moment, and yet he chose to keep him alive, to draw out his suffering. It was more than Volk could bear. Zenveil''s voice grew louder, more commanding as he straightened up, towering over Volk with a terrifying presence. "You''re nothing, hazardous Orc leader," he spat, his eyes narrowing with contempt. "Just a weak, sniveling Labor Orc who''s deluded himself into thinking he''s something more like a leader. But you''re not. You''re nothing but a coward, hiding behind your Grum-gar form, hoping it will somehow make you stronger. But it won''t, hazardous Orc. It never will." Volk''s mind flashed back to his life on Earth, the memories of his helplessness flooding his senses. The wheelchair. The abuse. The constant reminder of his inferiority. The always need to be saved by someone. The fear that had controlled him for so long, that had kept him in chains even when he tried to fight back. It was the same fear that now gripped his heart, the same fear that paralyzed him as Zenveil loomed above. Zenveil''s eyes gleamed with wicked amusement as he watched the fear play out on Volk''s face. He could see the Orc''s resolve crumbling, the last vestiges of hope slipping away. And it thrilled him. He wanted more. "You''re nothing but a meal to me, Orcs," Zenveil sneered, his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A piece of meat, waiting to be devoured. And I''m going to enjoy every second of it." Volk''s breath caught in his throat as Zenveil''s words hit him like a sledgehammer. His mind was a storm of emotions¡ªfear, anger, helplessness¡ªall swirling together in a chaotic whirlpool. He wanted to fight back, to prove Zenveil wrong. But the fear was too strong. It had taken hold of him, rooting him in place, sapping his strength. "And what''s this?" Zenveil mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think you can still fight? You think you can stand up to me? Look at yourself, Volk. You''re trembling. You can barely keep your feet under you. What hope do you have against me? Against the power of a Warlock?" Volk''s hands clenched into fists, he hated this. Zenveil leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Give it up, hazardous Orc leader," he hissed, his eyes boring into Volk''s with an intensity that made his blood run cold. "Give in to the fear. Let it consume you. Turn back into a normal Orc and accept your fate. Let me start my feast with all of your Orc friends. There''s nothing you can do to stop me but only watch me devour them one by one!" Volk''s body trembled uncontrollably, the fear coursing through him like a poison was making him shrink. Zenveil''s grin widened as he saw the despair in Volk''s eyes, the last traces of resistance fading away. "That''s it," he whispered, his voice a low, taunting purr. "Give up, hazardous Orc leader. There''s no point in fighting. You''re just prolonging the inevitable. You can''t win. You never could." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, the fear gripping him tighter and tighter, until it felt like he couldn''t breathe. Zenveil''s laughter echoed through the cavern, a sound of pure, unadulterated evil. "This is your end, little hazard orc," he declared, his voice ringing with finality. "Your last moment of defiance. And then you''ll be nothing but a memory, a forgotten footnote in the annals of history. Just another Orc who dared to challenge a Warlock and paid the price." Volk''s vision blurred as the fear slowly consumed him. He could feel the last vestiges of his strength slipping away, the power of his Grum-gar form fading into nothingness. He was on the brink of giving up, of surrendering to the fear, to death, when a memory flashed through his mind. It was a memory of his uncle, the man who had saved him from the abuse of his cousin''s boyfriend. His uncle had been a towering figure, a man of immense strength and courage. He had protected Volk when no one else would, had stood up for him when he was too afraid to stand up for himself. And in that moment, Volk remembered the words his uncle had spoken to him. "Don''t ever let fear control you, Volk," his uncle had said, his voice firm and unwavering. "You''re stronger than you think. You have a strength inside you that no one can take away. Don''t let anyone make you feel weak. Don''t let them take away your power." The words echoed in Volk''s mind, cutting through the fog of fear like a beacon of light. If it were in his past life, he wouldn''t have believed in his uncle. After all, he is born crippled. However, isn''t he normal now? So what if he was weaker? Didn''t he have two hands and two strong legs? Yes! So why be afraid! In the past, he just wanted to punch the boyfriend of his cousin in the face if he ever got a normal body, so why should he fear anyone? Zenveil''s laughter rang in Volk''s ears, a sound of triumph that grated on his nerves. But this time, the fear inside him suddenly felt like a breeze. With that breeze, a fire was ignited in his chest, a warm rage that was slowly heating. Zenveil''s eyes narrowed as he saw the change in Volk, the flicker of defiance that had returned to his eyes. "What''s this?" Zenveil sneered, his voice laced with irritation. "You think you can still fight? You think you can stand up to me?" Volk''s hands clenched into fists, the muscles in his arms bulging with renewed strength. He could feel the power of his Grum-gar form surging through him, the fear that had gripped him now slowly turning into anger, and his determination to at least break one Zenveil''s teeth was making his aura changed. He would be satisfied with that! Even if it was at least one teeth! Zenveil''s expression darkened as he saw the resolve in Volk''s eyes, the strength that had returned to his body. "You''re making a mistake, little green buzzwark," Zenveil warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You''re only prolonging your suffering." But Volk didn''t listen. He wasn''t afraid anymore. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His eyes were green, deep seething and were slowly deepening. Zenveil''s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, the grin fading from his face. "No," he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "This can''t be¡­" But it was. Suddenly, Volk''s body pulsed with destructive power. | Ding! | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster and bigger. | Time Deduction: 30 seconds. | Current time duration: 6 minutes and 7 seconds. | Chapter 53 - 53: RAGE! RAGE! RAGE! Volk stood there, panting heavily, as the dust settled around him. His chest heaved with each breath, and his muscles bulged, throbbed with the strengthened destructive muscle of his Radioactive form. He could still feel the remnants of fear gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, but it was overshadowed by something far more potent: rage. Pure, unadulterated rage that coursed through his veins, rippling like molten lava, ready to explode and cause an extinction to all. Volk glanced down at the timer on his system interface. His eyes widened in surprise. Last time, he had only five minutes in his Radioactive form, but now¡­ now he had seven minutes. "How?" he thought, his mind racing. "Did I get stronger? No¡­ it must be thanks to Solluha''r. She must have done something¡­" but the one who was thinking was the Orc inside his radioactive form. He said, immediately, his thoughts were interrupted by a cold, mocking voice. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Zenveil''s voice slithered through the air like a serpent. The Warlock, perched on top of the center head of the massive three-headed dog, sneered at Volk. His eyes glinted with malicious glee as he observed the transformation taking place before him. "It seems you''ve bulked up quite a bit, hazard Orc. Impressive. Truly, I must say, I''m almost¡­ surprised." He leaned forward, his grin widening. "But don''t let it get to your head, little green buzzwark. It''s nothing more than a bit of extra meat for me to chew on." Volk''s eyes narrowed, with his blood boiling. The Warlock''s taunts only fueled the fire within him. His muscles immediately coiled, with every fiber of his being vibrating with barely contained fury. He wasn''t just going to fight Zenveil. He was going to destroy him if he could! He will use it all, even if his teeth were destroyed, he will be happy with it! Zenveil raised a hand, and with a sinister cackle, he commanded the hulking beast beneath him to attack. "Time to exercise my jaw!" he roared. The three-headed dog, a monstrous creation of flesh and dark magic, lunged forward with terrifying speed, one could see immediately its three sets of jaws snapped open to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. Volk braced himself. Grrrrr¡­ The ground beneath him cracked and buckled as he planted his feet, preparing for the onslaught. The first head came at him from the right, jaws wide open, ready to tear him apart. Kabagm! Volk let out a thunderous roar¡ª"GRAAAAAAHHH!!"¡ªas he swung his massive fist upward. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. BOOM! His fist connected with the side of the beast''s head, the impact sending a shockwave through the air. The head snapped back, but before Volk could celebrate, the second head was already upon him. CRUNCH! The jaws clamped down on Volk''s shoulder, the sharp teeth sinking into his flesh. Pain shot through his body, but instead of weakening him, it only made him angrier. "HAAARRGGHHH!!" His roar of pain morphed into one of fury as he drove his other fist into the beast''s neck. "AARRGGHH!!" The muscles in his arm bulged as he poured every ounce of strength into the blow. BANG! The force of the punch was immense, driving the second head backward, but the third head was quick to follow. It lunged at Volk''s midsection, intending to rip him apart. Volk reacted instinctively, GRRRRR!! twisting his body to the side as he brought his elbow crashing down onto the beast''s skull. THUD! The third head recoiled, but Zenveil''s laughter echoed through the battlefield, taunting Volk. "Is that all you''ve got, little Orc?" Zenveil mocked. "You''re barely scratching the surface!" Volk''s vision blurred with rage. He could feel the blood seeping from the wounds on his shoulder, but the pain only served to drive him further into a berserk state. "UWAAAARRRGGHHH!!" He roared again, the sound reverberating through the air as he charged at the beast. Each step he took shook the ground, cracks spider webbing outward from where his feet landed. KAGAM! The three-headed dog reared back, its massive claws slashing through the air. Volk ducked under the swipe, his eyes blazing with fury as he leaped upward. His fist came crashing down with a deafening BOOM!, connecting with the beast''s chest. The impact sent the beast staggering backward, but it quickly recovered, all three heads snapping at Volk simultaneously. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!* Volk weaved between the attacks, his movements fueled by pure rage. He slammed his fists into the ground, causing the earth to erupt in a shower of rocks and debris. The debris pelted the beast, momentarily disorienting it, but Zenveil''s laughter continued to echo in his ears. "You''re nothing but a brute, little buzzwark Orc! You think brute strength alone can defeat me?" Zenveil''s voice was dripping with contempt as he gestured with his hand. The beast''s wounds began to heal, the flesh knitting back together as if it had never been injured. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest. The sight of the beast healing so effortlessly sent a fresh wave of rage coursing through him. "VOOOLLLLKKK NOOOOOOT LITTTLEEEEE!!!" He could feel his control slipping, the primal instincts of the Radioactive form taking over. His vision tinged red as he let out a feral growl, his muscles straining against the limits of his form. Zenveil laughed, "HAHA You are little!!!" The three-headed dog lunged at him again, but this time, Volk was ready. He sidestepped the attack, his movements faster, more precise than before. He swung his fist in a wide arc, connecting with the beast''s ribs with a sickening CRACK! The beast howled in pain, AAAARRGHH!! but Zenveil''s voice cut through the noise. "Pathetic! You''re still just a toy for me to play with!" Zenveil taunted, his voice filled with glee. Volk''s blood boiled. GRRRR!!! "VOOOLLLLKK NOT PATHEEEEETIC!!!" The Warlock''s words were like gasoline on the fire of his rage. He could feel the power of his Radioactive form growing, the raw energy surging through his veins. Zenveil laughed again, "YOU ARE WEAK!!" UWWAARRGGHH!! With a roar that shook the very ground beneath him, Volk charged at the beast, his fists a blur of motion. BANG! BANG! BANG! Each punch landed with bone-shattering force, driving the beast back step by step. But no matter how much damage Volk inflicted, the beast kept coming, its wounds healing almost as fast as they were made. ''AAAAAAAAARRRGHHHHHH!!" Volk''s fury reached a fever pitch. He could feel the timer ticking down, the seconds slipping away. He needed to finish this, and fast. But the beast was relentless. It lashed out with its claws, catching Volk across the chest. SLASH! The pain was excruciating, but Volk didn''t falter. He brought his fists crashing down on the beast''s head, the impact sending tremors through the ground. Zenveil''s laughter filled the air. "Is that the best you can do, little orc? I expected more from you!" Volk''s growl rumbled deep in his chest. GRRRRRR!!! He could feel the anger boiling over, pushing him to the brink. He wasn''t going to let Zenveil win fast! With a final, earth-shattering roar, Volk unleashed all his strength in a flurry of punches, RAAAAGGH!! RAAAGGHH!! RAAAGGH!! each one landing with the force of a sledgehammer. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The beast staggered under the onslaught, but it wasn''t enough. Volk could see the wounds healing, the beast''s strength returning. He could feel his own strength waning, the timer ticking down to the final moments. And then, with a roar of its own, the beast retaliated. Its jaws snapped shut around Volk''s torso, lifting him off the ground. CRUNCH! The pain was blinding, but Volk''s rage was stronger. He grabbed hold of the beast''s jaws, prying them apart with sheer brute force. His muscles strained, his veins bulging as he forced the beast to release him. BANG! Volk hit the ground hard, but he was back on his feet in an instant. He could feel the blood trickling down his body, the wounds stinging with every movement. But he didn''t care. All he cared about was taking Zenveil down. The Warlock watched from atop the beast, his grin fading slightly as he saw the determination in Volk''s eyes. "You should be dead by now," Zenveil muttered, his voice laced with frustration. "Why won''t you just die?" Volk responded with a RAAAAAGGAAHAHH!! He didn''t have the time or the energy for words. He was focused, his mind set on one goal: bringing Zenveil to his knees. And then, in the midst of the chaos, a notification flashed across Volk''s vision. He blinked, momentarily distracted by the words that appeared before him. | Ding! | Would you like to use Nuclear Devastation Strike? | Volk''s mind raced. He had never seen this option before. But the name alone was enough to send a thrill of anticipation through him. He quickly glanced at the options that appeared beneath the notification. | 1. Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike: (10) | 2. Nuclear Devastation Wind Strike: (6) | 3. Nuclear Devastation Earth Strike: (3) | 4. Nuclear Devastation Water Strike: (3) | Chapter 54 - 54: Spore Bomb Volk''s heart raced as he stood before Zenveil, his body trembling with fury and determination. He didn''t know what was driving him to choose the wind-based attack, but something within him yearned to see Zenveil hurled through the air like a rag doll. Without thinking, Volk balled his massive fist, and suddenly, a transparent swirl of wind began to encase it, shimmering with a strange energy he had never felt before. His eyes widened, but before he could fully comprehend what was happening, his voice boomed throughout the cave, as if on instinct: "NUCLEAR DEVASTATION WIND STRIKE!" He shouted in his Grum-gar form, "GALE BOMB!" BOOM! His fist shot forward, smashing into the air with an earth-shattering sound, but the impact didn''t reach Zenveil. Instead, a brilliant magic circle flashed into existence between them, glowing a bright white with intricate designs of swirling blue lines weaving through it. It hovered in the air for a brief moment before vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared. For a split second, silence filled the cavern, and then Zenveil''s maniacal laughter echoed through the walls, reverberating like a haunting melody. "Kakakakakakakaka!" sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Zenveil howled, his laughter almost hysterical. He looked down at Volk with mocking eyes, a sneer of condescension painted on his twisted face. "Oh, this is rich! You think magic is that simple, Orc? Do you even understand the first thing about how this works?" Volk, still seething with anger, felt his frustration mounting as Zenveil continued to taunt him. The Warlock raised his hand, gesturing grandly as though he were a teacher addressing a clueless student. His voice dripped with arrogance as he began to explain. "Magic is not just about brute force, little buzzwark Orc. It''s not something you can simply will into existence. Magic requires control, mastery, and a deep understanding of its nature. "You don''t just snap your fingers and summon the winds! Kakaka! No, no, no. It takes years-of-years-of-years of study, practice, and most importantly, integration with magical beasts." Zenveil''s words oozed with disdain as he went on. "You see, we Warlocks are far beyond anything your simple mind could comprehend. To use a beast''s unique magic, we must first hunt the creature, extract the magical core from its body, and then fuse it with our own essence. "Only through this painstaking process can we gain access to the magic that creature once held. And even then, we must study the limits and strengths of the magic we''ve stolen to wield it effectively." Volk''s eyes narrowed as he listened to Zenveil''s lecture. The words felt like needles piercing his pride, but his anger was focused elsewhere. While Zenveil''s voice droned on, Volk''s gaze shifted to the system interface that had appeared before him. | Ding! | Nuclear Main Vessel elemental mana mastery of Nuclear Wind Mana is too low. | Volk scowled. That explained why the attack hadn''t worked. He wasn''t skilled enough in controlling the Nuclear Wind Mana yet. His fists clenched tightly, his mind racing. What should he do now? There had to be something else, right? | Ding! | Available attack: Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike. It is level ten mastery. | Volk''s brow furrowed in confusion. "Botanical?" he thought. He had no idea what kind of attack that was, but if the system said it had high mastery, it was worth a try. Before he could fully grasp the idea, Zenveil''s mocking voice cut through his thoughts once more. "Well? Are you going to try again? Or have you finally realized just how outmatched you are?" Zenveil taunted, his tone dripping with condescension. The Warlock waved his hand dismissively. "Come on, try harder, Orc. Give me a real challenge, if you can!" The taunt hit Volk like a slap to the face. His entire body tensed, and a growl rumbled deep within his chest, vibrating through the cave. His radioactive form seemed to pulse with anger, the green energy surrounding him flickering wildly. He couldn''t hold back any longer. "NO ONE UNDERESTIMATES VOLK!!!" he roared, his voice so loud that it shook the very stones of the cavern. His fury was a tangible force, and even Zenveil seemed momentarily taken aback by the intensity of Volk''s rage. But Zenveil''s surprise was short-lived. His mocking laughter only grew louder, more grating. "Kakakakaka! You think shouting will change anything? Pathetic!" Volk''s eyes blazed with rage as he thrust his fist forward again, Bang! this time with the intention of unleashing the Botanical Strike. A new magic circle appeared, deep green and pulsating with a strange, earthy energy. As the circle spun in the air, Volk felt something building, something far more dangerous than before. SWOOSH! | Ding! You have created an attack! | Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike: Spore Bomb. A twisted smile spread across Volk''s radioactive form face. His radioactive form seemed to glow brighter as he stared Zenveil down. He raised his fist high, the energy swirling around it like a storm. "SPOOOOOORE¡ª" The magic circle began to pulse faster, and Volk''s voice boomed through the cave as he finished the attack''s name. "BOOOOOMMMBBB!!!" BANG! Suddenly, a cloud of strange, chemical-like spores appeared out of thin air. The spores swirled around Volk''s fist before shooting forward like a gust of wind, aimed directly at Zenveil and the three-headed dog beneath him. Swoosh! The spores moved with unnatural speed, surrounding the beast and Zenveil in an instant. Zenveil, initially unfazed, waved his hand dismissively, a bored expression on his face. "What is this? Some kind of dust?" He chuckled, shaking his head as if Volk''s attack were nothing more than a joke. But then, something unexpected happened. The three heads of the monstrous dog began to twitch. One of the heads sniffed the air and let out a small sneeze. Ahchoo! Zenveil frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What¡­?" Ahchoo! Ahchoo! The sneezes grew louder and more frequent. Soon, all three heads were sneezing uncontrollably, their massive bodies shaking with each convulsion. The sneezes grew stronger, more violent, and Zenveil, now clearly alarmed, shifted in his seat atop the beast. "What is happening?! Why won''t it stop?!" Volk watched in amusement as the sneezing fit overtook Zenveil''s monstrous companion. The Warlock''s confident grin had completely disappeared, replaced by a look of bewilderment and growing frustration. But the sneezes weren''t the only thing happening. Zenveil''s expression shifted again, this time to one of discomfort. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wincing as if something wasn''t quite right. "What¡­?" Zenveil muttered, his voice trailing off as he squirmed. His eyes widened in realization. Something was very, very wrong. Volk''s radioactive form grin widened as the system screen popped up in front of him, revealing the effect of his latest attack. | Ding! | Spore Bomb effect: Random spore activated. | Current spore effect: Laxative. | Volk burst into laughter. "GRUHAHAHAHAHA!!" He couldn''t help it. The mighty Warlock, the self-proclaimed superior being, was now battling not just Volk, but his own body. The sight of Zenveil, squirming atop his beast, unable to control the sneezing three-headed monster beneath him, was more than Volk could have hoped for. Zenveil''s face twisted in a mix of fury and horror as he realized what was happening. "Y-you¡­ YOU DID THIS!" he screamed, his voice high-pitched and panicked. Volk nodded, still laughing, his massive form shaking with mirth. "VOLK FOUND WARLOCK FUNNY, GRUHAHAHAHAHA!" Zenveil''s body tensed, his muscles spasming uncontrollably as he tried to maintain control of the situation. But no matter how hard he tried, the sneezes from the three-headed dog and the¡­ other effects were too much for him to handle. For a brief moment, Volk allowed himself to revel in the small victory. The mighty Warlock, so full of arrogance and superiority, was now reduced to a squirming, sneezing mess. But Volk knew this was far from over. Zenveil might be humiliated now, but the battle wasn''t won yet. Volk cracked his knuckles, his eyes narrowing as he prepared for the next phase. "VOLK NOT DONE!" He took a deep breath, focusing his mind. There was still more power within him. The Nuclear Devastation Strike had more to offer, and Volk was ready to tap into all of it! Chapter 55 - 55: VOLK MAGIC The air in the cave felt heavy, filled with the aftermath of the magic Volk had unleashed. The strange green spores that had filled the cavern now floated like harmless dust, lingering in the stillness that followed. Slowly, one by one, the Orcs who had been frozen in fear began to stir, their eyes blinking open as if waking from a nightmare. At first, they were confused, glancing at one another, their faces filled with a mix of terror and bewilderment. Each Orc had remembered they had transformed into their fearsome Grum-gar forms, their bodies hulking and monstrous, but now, they became an Orc again. But they couldn''t remember why. The last thing they recalled was being surrounded by the oppressive energy of Zenveil''s magic, the Warlock''s terrifying presence making them feel like prey. But now... what had happened? One of the older Orcs, Gurrak, a grizzled warrior with a scar running across his face, rubbed his temples as he tried to piece together the missing moments. "What... what is this?" he muttered, his voice low and hoarse. "Where are we? What happened?" Another Orc, a younger one named Brakk, staggered to his feet, still shaking off the fog of confusion. "I... I remember transforming," Brakk said, his voice uncertain. "But... after that? Nothing. It''s like... my mind went blank." "Same here," said another Orc, Torgash, his eyes wide with bewilderment. "One moment, I was ready to charge... then it''s just darkness." They all exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what to make of their situation. The cave was still dark and foreboding, but something had shifted. It was as though the power that had held them captive had lifted, and now, in its place, there was a different energy¡ªone that felt wild and unpredictable. Suddenly, a booming voice broke through the silence. It came from an Orc a little farther from the group, his body still towering in his Grum-gar form, radiating an aura of immense power. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Orc''s muscles bulged, and his eyes glowed with a strange, almost otherworldly energy as he raised his head and shouted into the air: "VOLK," it shouted, making them awake to realize they are still in the cave, "THE MOST UNPREDICTABLE THERE IS!!!" The words echoed through the cavern like a thunderclap, jolting the rest of the Orcs from their stupor. They turned toward the source of the voice, their eyes widening in shock. "Volk?" one of them whispered, disbelief clear in his voice. The others were equally stunned. They recognized the Orc standing before them¡ªit was Volk, a member of their own Dreadmaw Clan. But this wasn''t the same Volk they knew. His form was far more massive, more menacing, his entire body pulsing with a dangerous energy. There was something primal about him now, something... different. "Grum-gar form?" As the Orcs watched, their eyes glued to Volk, they saw him suddenly swing his fist through the air like a whip, the motion impossibly fast. And then, without warning, a large magic circle appeared before him, glowing with an eerie green light. "Swoosh!" A cloud of spores burst from the magic circle, exploding into the air and drifting toward something enormous in the distance. The Orcs squinted, trying to make sense of what they were seeing. Through the haze of the spores, they caught sight of a massive three-headed dog, its enormous frame towering over everything else in the cave. The sheer size of the beast sent a wave of fear through the group, but before their terror could take hold, something strange happened. The moment the spores touched the dog, its entire demeanor changed. At first, nothing seemed to happen. The dog stood still, its three heads unmoving. But then, after a few heartbeats, one of the heads¡ªthe one that resembled a vicious scarred pitbull¡ªsuddenly threw its head back and howled. "Woooooo!" The Orcs exchanged confused glances as the dog continued to howl, not in pain or anger, but in pure, unfiltered happiness. "Woooooo! Woooooo!" The head howled again and again, its eyes half-lidded in what seemed like utter bliss. "What... what''s happening?" one of the Orcs muttered, utterly baffled by the sight. "Why is it sounding so... happy?" None of them could comprehend what they were seeing. The massive war beast, which had been a symbol of death and destruction moments before, was now... howling with joy. The sight was both surreal and terrifying, after all, everyone is afraid of unknown. Meanwhile, Zenveil, who had been riding atop the monstrous dog, was fuming. His face twisted with rage as he glared at Volk, his pride shredded by the absurdity of what was happening. His mouth curled into a snarl, his voice shaking with fury. "This... this is an abomination! How can you wield magic like this?!" Zenveil roared, his eyes burning with hatred. "Magic cannot be spammed! There are rules, preparations, and limits! You can''t just throw out attacks like they''re nothing! This is impossible!" But Volk ignored Zenveil''s rant. His attention was fixed on the system screen hovering before his eyes. | Ding! | Effect: Paradise Illusion. | Would you like to use another Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike? | A grin spread across Volk''s face, wild and untamed. He could feel the power coursing through him, surging like a tidal wave. The energy of the Radioactive form amplified everything, making him feel invincible. Zenveil was still screaming at the top of his lungs, commanding the dog to move, but it wasn''t obeying. One of the heads continued to howl with glee, utterly lost in the illusion, while the other two were locked in place, confused by their companion''s behavior. "MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! DAMN YOU!" Zenveil shouted, his voice frantic, but no matter how hard he tried to command the beast, it wouldn''t budge. Volk chuckled darkly, his voice low and dangerous. "FUNNY WARLOCK PUPPY¡­" With a swift motion, he punched the air again, his fist colliding with the atmosphere like a thunderbolt. Another magic circle appeared, deep green and crackling with energy. In an instant, another wave of spores shot forward, enveloping the massive three-headed dog. Zenveil''s eyes widened with horror as he watched the spores take hold. "NO! NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!" The spores swirled around the beast, and this time, it was the left head that reacted. The left head, which had been glaring at Volk with fury moments before, suddenly became dazed, its movements sluggish and erratic. It blinked rapidly, as if trying to shake off some invisible fog. Then, without warning, the left head snapped toward the center, its jaws clamping down on the middle head with a loud kgmraaag! The middle head let out a pitiful whimper, and the entire beast staggered under the force of the bite. Zenveil, caught off-guard by the sudden shift, was thrown from his perch atop the center dog, tumbling to the ground with a loud KABAM! The Orcs watching from the side were speechless, their jaws hanging open in shock. "What... what is happening?" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible. Volk stood tall, his chest heaving with exertion, but his smile was full of satisfaction. He glanced at the system screen once again, reading the latest update. | Ding! | Effect: Confusion. | Volk''s grin widened. This was too good. He was ready to drive another punch, eager to see what the next attack would bring. But before he could move, Zenveil, now sprawled on the ground, screamed with a voice filled with pure, unadulterated rage. "ENOUGH!!!" The sheer force of Zenveil''s shout echoed through the cavern, and in an instant, an explosion of dark energy erupted from the Warlock''s body, flooding the cave with a violent shockwave. The ground beneath Volk''s feet trembled, and for a split second, everything was chaos. Chapter 56 - 56: True Origin of Orcs Volk''s muscles tensed as the countdown to the end of his Radioactive form loomed in his mind. Four minutes left. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He felt the pressure mounting. Every second counted, and with each heartbeat, the sense of urgency grew. He had no time to think, no time to calculate his next move, no time to be distracted by chaos in front. His attacks were wild, chaotic, but that was all he could rely on now. The random nature of his strikes was his only hope. Maybe, just maybe, one of them would erupt and hit the Warlock hard enough to bring him down. He needed to spam randomly with different effects! Volk didn''t care about the system mission anymore. He didn''t care about completing objectives. All that mattered was survival¡ªand making the enemy in front feel any kind of enemy. The mission felt like a distant echo now, drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears. He roared, his body glowing with radioactive energy, his fists clenched, ready to swing again. Yes! His goal wasn''t just to survive! He needed to hurt Zenveil! Break him! Crush him! Smash him! But as he prepared to throw another punch, something cold and solid slammed into his skull. KABAAM! Volk was sent flying across the cave, his body crashing into the rough stone wall with a sickening bang. He crumpled to the ground, dazed, the world spinning around him. Pain exploded in his skull, but before he could even recover, the ground beneath him erupted with sharp stones, spearing upwards like jagged teeth. SHHHHK! The stones pierced through his limbs, pinning him to the ground. They drove deep into his muscles, trapping him in place. He roared in pain, GRAAAAAAHHH!! thrashing against the restraints, but the more he struggled, the deeper the stones dug into his flesh. His radioactive energy flickered, weakening as the minutes ticked by. Through the haze of pain and struggle, Volk heard the echoing voice of Zenveil. "I''VE EXPLODED THREE OF MY FIVE HEARTS JUST TO FREE MYSELF FROM YOUR PATHETIC TRICKS!" Zenveil''s voice was filled with seething fury. His words bounced off the cave walls, twisted with madness. "YOU THINK YOU CAN HUMILIATE ME, YOU DAMNED ORC?! YOU''RE NOTHING! NOTHING! I AM YOUR MASTER!" Volk snarled, Graaaaaa! trying to wrench himself free, but the stones held firm. He could hear Zenveil''s pawsteps approaching, slow and deliberate, the sound of a man savoring his victory. "I am your creator, little Orcs. Without me, you wouldn''t even exist." Zenveil''s voice grew closer, dripping with venom. "Do you know why? Shall I enlighten you?" The Warlock finally appeared in Volk''s vision, standing tall and proud, with a lower body of a three headed dog, his pale face twisted with rage. He looked down at Volk with disdain, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. Zenveil raised his paw-like hand, the grotesque appendage that controlled the massive three-headed beast that loomed behind him. The paw crackled with dark energy as it moved closer to Volk''s head. "LET ME TELL YOU A STORY, ORC. A STORY OF YOUR PATHETIC ORIGIN." Zenveil''s eyes gleamed with malevolence as he crouched down next to Volk, his face inches away from the pinned Orc. The dark particles in his paw danced wildly as he began his tale. "YOU ORCS... YOU WERE ONCE CREATURES FROM RANDOM RANDOM REALM, BORN WITH HORNS, BORN WITH STRENGTH. BUT YOU WERE TOO POWERFUL. TOO WILD. YOU CAN ALSO TURN INTO AN ORC DEMON FORM, THE SAME WITH YOUR GRUM-GAR FORMS CALLED DIABOLIC FORM! "AND WE WARLOCKS COULDN''T CONTROL YOU AS YOU WERE. SO WE TOOK YOUR HORNS. YES, YOUR PRECIOUS HORNS THAT MADE YOU STRONG! WE RIPPED THEM FROM YOUR SKULLS!" Zenveil cackled, his voice rising with madness. "WITHOUT THEM, YOU WERE WEAK, PATHETIC, JUST LIKE YOU ARE NOW. HORNLESS ORCS. BUT YOU WERE STILL TOO UNSTABLE. SO WE WARLOCKS, IN OUR INFINITE WISDOM, DECIDED TO MIX YOUR BLOOD WITH THE BLOOD OF OGRES. "YES, THAT''S RIGHT. "THE MIGHTY OGRES. IT TOOK COUNTLESS EXPERIMENTS, COUNTLESS FAILURES, BUT EVENTUALLY, WE SUCCEEDED AFTER COUNTLESS OF YEARS. WE CREATED YOU! THE ORCOGRE! FAR WEAKER THAN REAL OGRES. AND FAR WEAKER THAN THE HORNED ORCS YOU ONCE WERE." Zenveil''s voice dropped to a whisper, but it was no less menacing. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW? YOU''RE NOTHING MORE THAN A SUCCESSFUL EXPERIMENT FOR WAR AGAINST THESE DARK WITCHES. YOU AND YOUR KIND WILL NEVER BE AS POWERFUL AS YOU COULD HAVE BEEN. YOU NEED FIVE FULL MUTATIONS JUST TO EVEN STAND A CHANCE AGAINST A REAL OGRE. BUT EVEN THEN... YOU''RE STILL JUST A WEAPON! A WEAPON FOR US WARLOCKS TO USE!!!" Volk''s vision blurred with rage. GRAAAAAAAHHH!!!! His body trembled as the radioactive energy within him surged, fighting against the pain, fighting against the humiliation. His mind screamed to break free, to tear Zenveil apart with his bare hands. But the stones held him tight, and the Warlock''s dark magic was seeping slowly into his skin, pinning him down. Zenveil''s paw hovered over Volk''s head, the dark particles swirling faster now. He grinned, his eyes wild with insanity. "And now, I''ll show you what true power looks like. Watch closely, little buzzwark Orc. I''ll inject you with a little something... a reminder of who owns you." Volk''s eyes widened as the paw made contact with his temple. The dark particles surged into his skull, filling his mind with searing pain. He roared, GRAAAAAAAA!! the sound ripping from his throat in agony, his body convulsing as the magic invaded him. "YES!" Zenveil screamed, his voice ringing with maniacal glee. "That''s it! SCREAM! Scream like the worthless creature you are! That''s all you''re good for! Scream for me! Scream for your master!" Volk''s roar grew louder, more primal, echoing through the cave like a beast being slaughtered. His muscles bulged, straining against the stone spikes that held him, his veins pulsing with the radioactive energy that was barely keeping him alive. The pain was unbearable, it''s was like a white-hot fire that consumed his entire body. "THAT''S RIGHT! Scream more! Suffer more! That''s what all you Orcs should do! How dare you try to rise above your creators?! HOW DARE YOU HUMILIATED ME!!? WE made you! WE are the reason you exist! Without us, you are nothing! NOTHING! SO¡­ YOU SHOULD CALL US YOUR MASTERS!" Zenveil''s laughter grew louder, more unhinged. He was completely lost in his own madness now, his eyes gleaming with the twisted joy of watching Volk writhe in pain. But inside Volk, something was changing. Beneath the pain, beneath the agony, a new feeling was rising¡ªRAGE. Volk''s mind was a maelstrom of fury. Zenveil''s words, the torture, the humiliation¡ªit all blended together into one singular emotion. He had been beaten down, trapped, and humiliated, but he wasn''t finished yet. He wouldn''t stop. He couldn''t stop. The fire in his chest burned hotter, brighter, until it consumed everything else. Volk''s eyes snapped open, glowing with radioactive energy. His lips curled back into a snarl, his teeth bared in a fierce grin. "YOU ARE¡­NOT VOOOOOOOOOOOLK¡­MASTEEEERRR!!!" His voice was low, but it was filled with raw, untamed desire to ruin. Zenveil blinked, momentarily startled by the sudden shift in Volk''s demeanor. "What did you say?!" he spat, his paw tightening its grip on Volk''s head. But Volk didn''t answer with words. He answered with a roar¡ªa roar so loud and powerful that the very stones pinning him to the ground began to crack and crumble. "RAAAAAAAGHHHHH!" The radioactive energy surged through Volk''s body, expanding outward in a violent wave of power. The stones shattered under the force, and Volk exploded free from his restraints, his entire form glowing with a blinding light. Zenveil stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock. "NO! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!" But it was too late. Volk was beyond reason now, beyond pain. He was pure rage, pure destruction, and he was coming for Zenveil. Zenveil barely had time to scream before Volk''s fist, crackling with energy, shot forward. KABAM!! The force of the blow sent shockwaves through the cave, the very ground shaking beneath them. "VOLK RAMPAAAAAAAAAAAAGGEEE!!!!!!!" Chapter 57 - 57: Fourth Phase Mutation Volk''s heart was pounding in his chest as the blood of pure rage surged through his veins. Time was slipping away. He only had minutes left in his Radioactive form, but he had no choice. He needed to press on. He needed to turn this Warlock into dust! GROOOOOOAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! With a roar that reverberated off the walls, Volk leaped high into the air, with his massive legs tensing. His movements were impossibly fast and incredibly destructive too, as if his muscles were sucking the air around and splitting them like blades that cannot even penetrate the muscles he had. The sheer force of his anger alone can make anyone suffocate. He spun mid-air, his legs curling up into his chest, then snapped them out with the force of a double soccer kick. His feet slammed into Zenveil''s twisted form. KABAM! The impact sent Zenveil flying, his half-body, three-headed monstrosity crashing into the cave wall. The force of it was so immense that the entire cave shook violently. WOOOOSSSHHHSDD Cracks raced across the walls, splitting the stone like brittle glass, and debris began raining down from the ceiling. Zenveil''s beast crashed to the ground with a deafening KABOOM, the sound echoing through the underground catacombs. Dust and debris filled the air as the cave continued to tremble under the sheer power of the attack. Volk, however, wasn''t finished. His blood was boiling, his fury not yet sated. "VOOOOOOLLLKKKK!" he screamed, his voice shaking the earth beneath him. "CRAAAAAASSSSSHHH!!!" He roared again, launching himself toward the crumpled figure of Zenveil. Volk''s vision was red with rage, his mind clouded with the desire to destroy. He wasn''t sure how he was doing this. How was he still standing? Still fighting? He had never felt this kind of raw, unchecked power before. As the dust settled around him, a familiar sound rang in his ears. Ding! The system message flashed in front of his eyes, its words glowing with an ominous light: | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster, and bigger. | Time Deduction: 1 minute. | Current time duration: 3 minutes and 7 seconds. | Volk blinked, the realization dawning on him. "Is this... why?" he mumbled under his breath. "But I''ve only mutated three times..." His thoughts raced. His form shouldn''t be this powerful. It shouldn''t be able to do this. In the Grum-gar form, three mutations meant he should have the strength of the 11th Mag''Durotan, not this... whatever this was. But this system, this strange mutation, wasn''t like the Grum-gar form. It was different. Before Volk could fully process what was happening, Zenveil''s form began to stir. The Warlock, battered and bruised, staggered to his feet. His body was shaking, and blood trickled from his nose and mouth. His once confident sneer was now twisted in confusion and fear. He stared at Volk in disbelief. "WHAT... WHAT IS GOING ON?!" Zenveil''s voice trembled, cracking with a mix of rage and terror. "YOU DIDN''T EXPLODE?! YOU AWAKENED THREE TIMES, BUT IF YOU REALLY MUTATED BY SHEER LUCK, YOUR STRENGTH SHOULD ONLY BE AT THE LEVEL OF THE 11TH MAG''DUROTAN! SO WHY? AND HOW ARE YOU... STRONGER THAN ME?!" Volk didn''t have an answer. His own mind was racing, trying to figure out how this was possible. His eyes flicked to the system screen still hovering before him. | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster, and bigger. | "Don''t tell me¡­" Volk muttered, piecing it together. His Radioactive form wasn''t bound by the same limitations as the Grum-gar form. In Grum-gar, he would''ve risen from 3rd Mag''Durotan, then slowly worked his way up to the 5th, 7th and 11th. But in this form... this was something else entirely. Could it be that different from Grum-gar, his Radioactive form, from 3rd Mag''Durotan, became 6th, then 12th and then 22nd Mag''Durotan!? "Is it... skipping ranks?" Volk thought aloud, his mind reeling. If this was true, then his strength wasn''t climbing gradually. His power was leaping¡ªdoubling¡ªexponentially¡ªwith every surge of rage. "Could I be¡­really¡­ 22nd Mag''Durotan...?" He snapped his gaze to Zenveil, his eyes widening in shock. "After all... Zenveil... Said he was only at 21st Mag''Durotan...!" Zenveil''s face paled at Volk''s aura. There''s no mistake, even though Volk only mutated three times, he could feel that Volk was now slightly stronger. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His eyes flicked with fear, trying to process what he was hearing. "NO!" he screamed, as if denying the truth would make it disappear. But before he could react, he reached for the last desperate card he had. Immediately, he exploded one of his two remaining hearts, and the surge of dark energy instantly propelled him toward Volk. His paw slammed down on Volk''s forehead again, dark magic seeping from his fingers. "I refuse to believe that you can mutate four times! You''ll lose control like all the others until you ultimately exploded into thousand pieces like others!!" Zenveil''s voice was shrill, a frantic edge to his words. He grinned, but one could see his eyes were wide and shining with desperation. "This time, I''ll make sure you don''t evolve again! Now, break, into thousand PIEEEECESSSSS!!!!!" The dark particles of magic seeped deeper into Volk''s skull, clawing at his mind. Zenveil''s plan was simple: overwhelm Volk''s body and force his unstable form to collapse under the weight of its own mutations. He had done it before, with other Orcs who had dared to evolve too far. They all ended the same way¡ªexploded into bloody pieces, unable to control the power surging within them. But as Zenveil''s dark magic coiled around Volk''s brain, something unexpected happened. | Ding! Another system message appeared before Volk''s eyes: | The host has borrowed the power of rage, making the host twice stronger, faster, and bigger. | Time Deduction: 2 minutes. | Current time duration: 1 minute and 7 seconds. | Volk felt it immediately. His body expanded, his muscles bulging, veins pulsing with radioactive energy. His skin stretched as his size increased, his very bones crackling under the pressure of the power coursing through him. Zenveil''s confidence shattered. His plan¡ªhis ultimate scheme¡ªwas crumbling right before his eyes. Volk was evolving again. "NO!" Zenveil stumbled backward, his face twisted in terror. "IMPOSSIBLE!!!" His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He watched in horror as Volk''s body grew larger, more monstrous, more unstoppable. Volk''s lips curled into a smile as the realization finally dawned on him. He wasn''t bound by the Grum-gar form''s limitations. His power wasn''t that of a mutated Orc. He was something different. Something more. "It''s not Grum-gar¡­ It''s Radioactive!" Volk''s voice boomed through his mind, yet even it was in his mind, his deep growl shook the very ground beneath him. Zenveil took another shaky step back, his eyes wide with fear. "No... this cannot be happening...!" Volk raised his massive hand, his fingers curling into a fist the size of a boulder. His body radiated with raw power, his muscles coiling with the force of a bomb ready to explode. "VOOOOOOOOLLLLLKKKKK!!!" His shout echoed through the cave, the ground trembling beneath the sheer volume of his voice. Rocks began to fall from the ceiling, cracks spreading across the walls like spiderwebs. Zenveil panicked. He began to spam attacks, flinging every spell, every curse, every shred of dark magic he could summon. Yet it became all not that effective. The air around them crackled with dark energy, but Volk''s body absorbed it all. "NO! NO! NO!" Zenveil shrieked, his voice high-pitched and frantic. His attacks were useless. They bounced off Volk''s impossibly tough muscles, harmlessly dissipating like sparks against steel. Volk''s smile widened, his eyes locked on Zenveil. "SQUUAAAASSSSHHH!" Volk roared, bringing his massive fist crashing down. KABOOM! The ground shattered beneath Zenveil''s feet as Volk''s fist collided with the earth. Zenveil screamed, but his voice was drowned immediately by Volk''s destructive fists. SPLAAAAATTTT!! Chapter 58 - 58: TIMES CHANGED Volk stood over the remains of Zenveil, his chest heaving with labored breaths, with his mind also clouded in a haze of rage. He could feel his muscles were swollen with unnatural power, they were pulsating with radioactive energy that coursed through his veins, wildly. He looked down at the mangled, splattered remains of Zenveil, his half-body crushed into the ground like pulp, the three heads of the monstrous dog flattened beneath Volk''s relentless strikes. There was nothing left but the twitching remains of Zenveil''s final heart, still beating faintly amidst the destruction he caused to its whole body. Immediately, Volk''s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked audibly and splitting the air around absentmindedly. His teeth were bared in an uncontrollable snarl as his mind wanted him to rampage! GRRRRRR¡­. He should have been satisfied. The Warlock was defeated, destroyed utterly, but inside, all Volk could feel was rage. "VOOOOOOLLLKKKKK" Volk radioactive form roared, and his voice echoed violently like a thunderclap through the crumbling catacombs. His chest vibrated with the force of it, but no amount of screaming seemed to quell the storm within him. He didn''t understand why he was so angry. Everything was supposed to be over. He should have felt victorious. Volk should be the winner¡ªright? However, instead, he felt a deep, crawling dissatisfaction in his spine, and it was too slow, making him felt an endless feeling of irritation. A primal fury that only seemed to grow stronger the more he thought about what had just happened. His body trembled, not from exhaustion, but from the unrelenting wave of frustration that surged through him. "Why did I hesitate earlier?" he growled to himself inside his head, his eyes narrowing as he replayed the battle in his mind. That hesitation earlier, that fear... It had gripped him like a vice. For a moment, he''d felt weak¡ªlike he was back on Earth, crippled, powerless, helpless. The sensation made him want to tear the world apart. He had doubted himself, doubted his power. He had let fear creep into his heart when he should have trusted the system that gave him strength. "What is that fear?! What is that hesitation!?" he bellowed. His voice cracked, reverberating through the nervous system. His fists shook, trembling with unspent fury. He should have embraced his power from the start. He should have relished in it, unleashed it without restraint. Instead, he had let Zenveil make him doubt himself, and now, as he stood over the Warlock''s ruined body, all he felt was disgust. "SMAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSHHHHHH!!!!" Volk roared again, louder this time, his voice echoing with such intensity that the walls around him trembled. Cracks spider-webbed further up the cavern''s ceiling as if the sheer force of his voice could bring the whole structure down. Meanwhile, Zenveil, clutching his last heart, barely clinging to life, trembled in disbelief. He lay sprawled amidst the remains of the three-headed beast, his mind reeling. "How is this possible...?" he muttered, his voice weak and broken. His eyes flickered with disbelief. "He awakened mutation phase four times...!" Zenveil''s voice became a raspy whisper, barely audible. "It... it shouldn''t be possible. No one... no one evolves that many times... not even by luck!" His trembling fingers dug into the flesh of his dying heart, desperately trying to hold on to whatever semblance of life he had left. But then, he heard Volk''s voice again, louder, more monstrous than ever. "AAARRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" Zenveil''s heart lurched in his chest. The ground shook violently, a force beyond comprehension. He tried to crawl away, his broken body dragging itself futilely across the ground, hoping to survive, hoping to escape¡ªanywhere, even if it''s only a one percent chance, he wanted to. Even though he knew, deep down, it was too late. "NOOO!!!" Zenveil screamed, "THIS ISN''T WHAT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!! WE ARE YOUR MASTERS!!! IN THE HISTORY AND NOW, NO WARLOCK COULD BE BEATEN BY HIS CREATION, NEVER!!!!!" but his cry was cut short. However, Volk''s growl was heard. "TIIIIIIIIME''S CHAAAAAAAANGED WARLOCCCKK SMAAAAALLL!!!!!!!" Volk''s fist came crashing down, slamming into Zenveil''s remains with the force of a mountain. KABAM! The Warlock''s remaining heart shattered instantly, his body immediately turned into nothing more than a smear of blood and flesh on the cold, hard ground. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the cave, causing the walls to tremble even more violently. Stones tumbled from the ceiling as the ground quaked under Volk''s wrath. But Volk wasn''t done. Not even close. He raised his fists again, the rage still coursing through him like wildfire. He didn''t care about strategy or tactics anymore. His mind was blank with fury. He slammed his fists into the ground repeatedly, over and over again, with no care for the destruction he was causing. "BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!" Each impact made the entire catacomb shake as if the very earth was protesting the sheer force of his blows. The ground beneath Zenveil''s remains crumbled further, pulverized into dust and debris. The rocks above groaned, and the walls around him seemed on the verge of collapse, but Volk didn''t care. He couldn''t stop. He wouldn''t stop. Meanwhile, in a little far section of the catacombs, Lhum''Baggar, Grashk, Grok''Thar, and the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs were wide awake now, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had felt the tremors, heard the thunderous crashes, and now they knew what was happening. It was Volk. Their leader was the one battling in the depths of the cave. And his opponent? Warlock Zenveil. The very Warlock who had taken control of the dungeon boss, a monstrous, three-headed creature, a descendant of the legendary Cerberus, named Dozer. The Orcs exchanged nervous glances as the walls shook violently around them. They could barely comprehend the power they were witnessing. "BAM! BAM! BAM!" The sounds of Volk''s fists smashing the ground echoed through the halls, each one sending a fresh jolt of terror through the group. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Grashk, always the boldest of them, was the first to speak. His voice shook with awe and disbelief. "It''s... it''s Volk... he''s fighting the Warlock..." The other Orcs looked at each other, confusion and fear in their eyes. They didn''t understand how Volk had become so massive, so powerful. But what they did understand was clear: Volk had defeated the Warlock. "LEADER IS THE STRONGEST!" Grashk suddenly bellowed, his voice filled with raw admiration. "VOLK IS VICTORIOUS!!!" The other Orcs hesitated for only a moment before their voices joined Grashk''s in a chorus of cheers. "VOLK IS VICTORIOUS!!!" "THE WARLOCK SLAYER!!!" Their shouts echoed through the catacombs, their cheers rising like a wave of thunder. They banged their fists against their chests in unison, their voices growing louder with each passing second. "LEADER IS THE STRONGEST!!!" "VOLK IS VICTORIOUS!!!" Volk, still trembling with rage, paused for a moment as the sound of the cheers reached his ears. He turned, his massive frame casting a dark shadow over the remaining Orcs. They stood there, staring up at him, their eyes filled with awe. For a moment, Volk was speechless. He had been so consumed by his fury, by the chaos of battle, that he had forgotten there were others here. And now, as he stood over the shattered remains of Zenveil, his rage slowly began to ebb. He raised his hand, almost hesitantly, and turned toward the cheering Orcs. Then, with a voice filled with a strange mixture of disbelief and pride, he shouted, "VOOOLLLLKK IIIISSS VICTORIOUUUUUSSSSS!!!!" Chapter 59 - 59: MISSION COMPLETE The Dreadmaw Clan marched through the rugged terrain, each step heavy and deliberate, their massive forms causing the ground beneath them to tremble ever so slightly. It was as though the very earth feared their presence, shifting and cracking beneath their weight. At the front of the procession was Volk, now back in his normal Orc form, though still larger and more imposing than the average Orc. Around his neck hung an ornament¡ªone of the skulls of the three-headed dog, Dozer¡ªfashioned into a crude necklace. The skull, bleached white with deep cracks from the battle, dangled from a thick, leather cord, a grisly reminder of his victory over the Warlock Zenveil and his monstrous beast. In his hands, Volk carried a massive crystal, its size so great that it required both arms to manage. The crystal glowed faintly with an eerie, pulsating light, shiiiiing! casting long shadows on the ground as they moved. Every time Volk adjusted his grip, the ground beneath him trembled, and the other Orcs would glance nervously at the ground, unsure if the earth itself might give way under the weight of their march. Grashk, walking slightly behind Volk, was the first to break the silence. "Volk," he said, his voice rough but respectful. "That Warlock... he said some things back there. About our kind. Do you think it was true? What he said about us Orcs their creation?" Volk grunted in response, his eyes fixed ahead, but after a moment, he slowed his pace and turned his head slightly. "Grashk," he began, his voice a low growl, "is that true? Plus, do we really get weaker without a... mate?" Grashk scratched his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Well... I don''t know for sure. But what Zenveil said, it''s not the first time I''ve heard it. It''s said that when an Orc loses his companion, he can get weaker if he doesn''t have a lady. And if he doesn''t find one soon, he''ll start to wither. They say he''ll get thinner and weaker, until he becomes nothing more than a shadow of himself. Twice weaker than a goblin, even." Volk''s brow furrowed in confusion. The thought of any Orc, especially one as powerful as himself, being reduced to something weaker than a goblin felt absurd. "So, it''s true then?" he asked, trying to wrap his head around it. Grashk nodded slowly. "Aye, but it doesn''t happen to all Orcs. Some are... like Grak''thor back in the clan, he doesn''t get thinner." At the mention of the butcher, Volk''s mind flashed to the hulking figure of Grak''thor. Despite the hardships their clan faced, Grak''thor had never shown signs of weakness or decline. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Grak''thor isn''t getting weaker though," Volk said, his brow knitting further. "Why is that?" Grashk gave a knowing grin. "Grak''thor was born in a clan that didn''t thrive in the middle of the hazardous forest before he came to us Dreadmaw Clan. His kind didn''t face the same dangers we do. They didn''t have to fight for survival against the hazardous magic particles as much, and their land was without those harmful particles, so they didn''t get to get thin and weak without a lady. However, they still get weaker like us, they are just not getting thinner..." He shrugged. "It''s different. That''s why he still look strong. And... the Elven Witches." Volk''s gaze narrowed. "The Elven Witches?" he repeated, his tone demanding clarification. "Aye, they help us out more than you think," Grashk explained, his voice a little quieter now, as if sharing a secret. "They need us just as much as we need them. If they stay out in the hazardous magic too long, they''ll die. So we have to find these magic catacombs, like the one we just raided, and bring back the crystals. That way, they can purify the land around the clan. If they don''t, the whole place will become unlivable for both Orcs and Elves alike." Volk''s mind churned with the new information. He clenched his fists and muttered under his breath, "So we''re like... their lifeline. Like an electric bulb that burns out if we don''t find more power. No wonder they push us into these catacombs. But we also need them." As the group continued, Volk''s thoughts became more entangled. The puzzle pieces of their existence, the precarious balance between Orcs and Elves, the strange powers of their enemies¡ªeverything weighed heavily on his mind. Then, as if to cut through the tension, a familiar sound chimed in his head. | Ding! Volk blinked in surprise, momentarily shaken from his thoughts. | New mission completed. | Defeat and show dominance against Grum-gar Dozer in its fourth Grum-gar evolution. | Rewards: Team Grum-gar evolution. | Volk''s steps slowed as he processed the words. "Huh?" he mumbled. "What is this...?" And then it hit him. The mission. The mission he had barely paid attention to earlier. "Oooh," he muttered, almost laughing at himself. Grashk and the others noticed Volk slowing down, and their pace faltered as well. Finally, after several more steps, Volk came to a full stop. "Wait," Volk commanded, his deep voice carrying authority. The entire group halted at once, turning their attention to Volk, waiting for his next move. There was a tension in the air, and the other Orcs, sensing the weight of the moment, remained silent. Volk''s eyes scanned the group, his gaze hard and serious. "If we go back like this, with Grum-gar forms spent up, will we be vulnerable?" he asked, his voice low but pointed. Grok''Thar, standing at the back, furrowed his brow. "No, we won''t. The rules of the Orcs protect us from that kind of attack," he said confidently. But then, his eyes widened as if a sudden thought struck him. "Unless..." His voice faltered. Volk turned sharply to face him, his expression demanding an answer. "Unless what?" Grok''Thar swallowed, his face paling slightly. "Unless it''s the Bloodfang Clan." The mention of the Bloodfang Clan sent a ripple of unease through the group. Volk''s expression hardened as he absorbed the gravity of Grok''Thar''s words. The Bloodfang Clan was the group of Orcs he disregarded earlier because he wanted to know his Grum-gar form if it''s really different from the Radioactive form of his system. Volk nodded, his mind thinking rapidly. He knew it was his fault. If they faced the Bloodfang Clan without Grum-gar forms, they could be ambushed, and despite their victory against Zenveil, they wouldn''t stand a chance. He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of responsibility settle heavily on his shoulders. Then, suddenly, Volk took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly as he gathered his thoughts. He looked around at the faces of the Orcs who had followed him into battle, who had placed their trust in his leadership. "I want to try something," Volk said, his voice steady and full of intent. The others stared at him, confused but intrigued. Grashk tilted his head, curiosity evident on his face. "What is it, Volk?" Volk didn''t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, placing the massive crystal down on the ground in front of them. Its faint glow pulsed gently, casting strange shadows across the walls of the cave. "I think..." Volk began, his voice slow and measured. "I think you all can turn into a third phase mutation." Chapter 60 - 60: Third Phase Mutation The moment Volk made his proclamation, a silence fell over the group. Woooooosh! His fellow Dreadmaw Clan Orcs stared at him in disbelief. Their leader was always a force to be reckoned with, but this? He transformed four times because of the Warlocks and they knew it should not be permanent. However, can they also transform? The idea that they could simply "awaken" again after their battle against the Warlock Zenveil seemed ridiculous. They exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether Volk was being serious or had simply lost his mind. Grok''Thar was the first to break the silence. He laughed, a short, barking sound that echoed off the cave walls. "Volk," he said, shaking his head. "That''s impossible! We already used our Grum-gar forms. No one just awakens again like that. Not after a fight like this. What are you thinking?" Grashk joined in, scratching his chin with a smirk. "Aye, Volk. You''ve led us through some insane battles, but this? There''s no way. We can''t just... reset, like we''re some sort of machine." Another Orc chimed in, nodding along. "Yeah, Grum-gar is something we build up over time, through hard battles and pushing our limits. We''re all drained after fighting Zenveil. The idea of us just... doing it again is nonsense!" The others began to laugh, with their voices filling the cavern with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. Volk''s intensity seemed misplaced, even comical, in the face of such an absurd suggestion. They had all fought with every ounce of strength they had, and now, they were simply trying to recover. Gurrak, the youngest of the group, wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "Maybe we can do it tomorrow, eh, Volk?" He grinned, his tusks glinting in the dim light. "We''ll all wake up refreshed, maybe have a bit of breakfast, and then, bam! Grum-gar again! I mean, why wait? Let''s do it now!" His tone was teasing, mocking the very idea. The Orcs roared with laughter, slapping each other on the back and shaking their heads. The sheer ridiculousness of the conversation had turned a tense situation into something of a joke. Even the thought of facing the Bloodfang Clan couldn''t keep them from chuckling at the absurdity. But Volk wasn''t laughing. His eyes remained locked on Gurrak, his expression deadly serious. "Do it," he said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. The laughter died instantly. Gurrak blinked, confused. "Huh?" "I said do it," Volk repeated, his tone unwavering. "Try to transform. If we can do it now, we''ll be ready if the Bloodfang Clan comes for us. We''ll crush them if they try to take our crystals." Gurrak''s throat went dry, and he swallowed nervously. He glanced around at the other Orcs, seeking some kind of reassurance, but they were just as stunned as he was. The weight of Volk''s command was settling over them like a heavy cloak. This wasn''t a joke anymore. Their leader was serious. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You''re... you''re serious?" Gurrak stammered, looking back at Volk. His mind raced. It was impossible, wasn''t it? But Volk''s eyes bore into him, and the weight of his command was undeniable. Seeing no way out, Gurrak sighed and straightened his back. "Alright," he muttered, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I''ll give it a try... but don''t expect anything." He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The familiar feeling of energy coursing through his veins wasn''t there, at least not in the same way it had been before their battle. But as he concentrated, something strange happened. A tingling sensation spread through his body, slow at first, but then it grew stronger, more intense. The other Orcs watched with wide eyes as Gurrak''s muscles began to bulge, his veins popping out like thick cords. His skin darkened, his frame expanding as his body slowly transformed. His legs grew thicker, his arms like tree trunks, and his back arched as the sheer mass of his Grum-gar form took over. His tusks elongated, his face contorting into a more savage, primal form. Gurrak opened his eyes, now glowing with a feral light, and took a step forward. The ground beneath him cracked from the pressure of his weight. His form was still growing, slow and deliberate, like a boulder rolling down a hill, unstoppable and inevitable. The other Orcs stood there, dumbfounded. They watched in stunned silence, the air thick with disbelief. Gurrak had actually done it. He had transformed. Even though he had already used his Grum-gar form in the battle against Zenveil, he had somehow managed to trigger it again. THUD. The crystals the Orcs were carrying fell to the ground, one by one, as they stared, slack-jawed, at Gurrak''s massive form. The sound echoed ominously through the cavern, but no one moved. No one spoke. They were all transfixed by the impossible transformation happening right before their eyes. Gurrak, breathing heavily, looked down at his new form, his voice a low growl. "I... I did it." His tone was filled with disbelief, as though even he couldn''t believe what had just happened. But before he could say more, Volk''s voice cut through the air once again. "Wait!" Volk commanded, raising a hand to stop the celebration that was just about to erupt. The Orcs froze, their cheers dying in their throats as they turned their attention back to Volk. His eyes glinted with intensity. "Now, turn into your second mutation of the Grum-gar form." Gurrak''s jaw dropped slightly. He had barely believed he could manage the first transformation, let alone a second. His heart raced as he looked around at the other Orcs, their eyes now gleaming with hope. The weight of their expectations pressed down on him, but something inside him stirred¡ªsomething primal, something powerful. Gurrak clenched his fists, his muscles tightening further. "Alright," he growled. "Let''s see if it''s possible." With a roar, Gurrak''s body expanded once more. His shoulders broadened, his arms swelled to even more terrifying proportions, and his legs grew like thick pillars of stone. His skin darkened further, thickening as his form became even more monstrous. His already massive body grew larger, more menacing, and his face twisted into a visage of pure rage and power. The Orcs watched in awe as Gurrak entered his second mutation. His body now towered over them, nearly twice the size of a normal Grum-gar. The sheer presence of him was overwhelming, like a mountain standing among hills. He took another step forward, and the ground trembled beneath him. Yet, before the Orcs could begin to celebrate, Volk''s voice rang out once more. "Now, turn into the third mutation!" The Orcs gasped in unison. The third mutation was rare¡ªalmost unheard of for an Orc who hadn''t yet surpassed Fifth Mag''Durotan. Those who achieved such a feat were considered the rarest talent, with a chance to become champions of their clans, and here was Volk, demanding that Gurrak attempt it now, in front of them all. Gurrak''s eyes widened, but the determination burning in his chest drowned out his doubt. If this was possible, then he could become something more than just another Orc in the Dreadmaw Clan. He could become one those rare talent. With a final roar that shook the very cavern, Gurrak''s body erupted into its third mutation. His muscles rippled with power, his skin became nearly stone-like in its density, and his form expanded to a monstrous size. His teeth elongated into tusks that jutted out like daggers, and his eyes burned with the light of pure, untamed rage. The transformation was slow, almost majestic in its brutality. Each second felt like an eternity as Gurrak''s body reshaped itself into something beyond what any of them had ever seen. His presence was overwhelming, like his very existence radiating raw power. The Orcs stood there, with their hearts pounding heavily in their chests. They stared at Gurrak with awe and dread, for what stood before them was not just an Orc¡ªit was a monster, a force of nature, a being of pure, unrelenting destruction. Gurrak, breathing heavily, looked down at himself, his voice a deep, rumbling growl. "I... I did it." Chapter 61 - 61: Another test The cheers erupted like a storm within the catacombs. The Orcs raised their fists in the air, their deep voices booming through the cavern as they surrounded Gurrak, now a hulking behemoth after successfully completing his third Grum-gar mutation. The once dim-lit and tense cave now echoed with the sound of triumph. "GURRAK! GURRAK! GURRAK!" They chanted his name in unison, their voices bouncing off the stone walls. Gurrak stood tall in the middle, his chest heaving, his massive form looming over the others. He raised both his thick, muscled arms, flexing with pride as the rest of the Orcs slapped his back and grabbed his arms in congratulations. "I can''t believe it!" one of the Orcs shouted, his voice barely audible over the roaring celebration. "Three mutations! Three!" Another Orc, his eyes wide with astonishment, leaned in close to Gurrak, studying his enormous frame with disbelief. "I''ve never seen anything like it... You''ve become a beast!" The group of Orcs, now energized with excitement, couldn''t stop themselves. "If Gurrak can do it, so can we!" one of them shouted, thrusting his fist into the air. "Three mutations!" another Orc exclaimed, punching the ground beneath his feet, causing a tremor. "If this is what we can become, the Bloodfang Clan is nothing! NOTHING!" They continued to shout, each trying to outdo the other in their praises and celebrations. The tension that had plagued them after their battle with Zenveil had completely evaporated, replaced with newfound confidence and pride. It felt like their entire world had shifted. Gurrak, one of their own, had achieved something only legends spoke of. Suddenly, another Orc, his eyes gleaming with both excitement and envy, stepped forward. "I want to try too!" he declared, his voice cutting through the cacophony. The others turned toward him, one could feel their excitement was palpable. They were eager to see another of their own transform, to witness the impossible again. It was as if their blood was boiling, the primal urge to grow stronger burning in their veins. But before the Orc could take another step, Volk''s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "Don''t." The Orc froze, blinking in confusion. He turned to Volk, his face scrunched up in bewilderment. "Why not?" Volk''s gaze was firm, his voice low but steady. "There''s still the Bloodfang Clan," he said. "Save it for later. We''ll need every bit of strength we can muster if they decided to antagonize us." The Orc hesitated, glancing back at Gurrak, who still stood triumphant in his third mutation. His desire to transform, to feel that surge of power, was undeniable. "But what if it''s only Gurrak who can do it? What if we''re not the same?" he asked, voicing the doubt that flickered in the back of every Orc''s mind. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his voice as steady as a mountain. "It''s not just Gurrak. It''s all of you." Still, the Orcs around him weren''t entirely convinced. The doubt lingered, gnawing at them. After all, seeing one of their own mutate three times was an incredible feat, but surely not all of them could be that lucky, could they? Volk sighed, sensing their skepticism. "Alright," he relented, his tone softening just a bit. "I''ll let only one more of you transform. But just one. We need to prove this once and for all." At this, the Orcs exchanged eager glances, excitement buzzing in the air again. They jostled one another, each wanting to be the one who got the chance. But it was Grashk, the older, battle-worn Orc, who stepped forward, a confident smirk on his face. "I''ll do it," Grashk said, his deep voice cutting through the noise. "I''ve only ever been able to mutate once in my life. If I can do it three times, then we''ll know Volk''s right." The others roared in approval, slapping Grashk on the back and cheering him on. He stepped forward, standing in the middle of the group, his muscles tensing as he prepared to attempt the impossible. His eyes met Volk''s, and Volk gave him a single nod of approval. Grashk closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself. The familiar energy surged through his body, but this time, it was stronger, more intense. He could feel the primal power of the Grum-gar form coursing through his veins, and as he focused, his body began to shift. His muscles expanded, his frame growing larger as his first mutation took hold. His skin darkened, his tusks grew longer, and his body took on the more brutish form of the Grum-gar. The Orcs watched in awe as Grashk transformed, their cheers growing louder. But he wasn''t done. Grashk gritted his teeth, pushing himself further. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His muscles bulged even more, his skin thickening, his bones cracking and reshaping as his body grew larger still. He roared as his second mutation took hold, his once large form now towering over the others. The Orcs could barely contain their excitement. "He''s doing it!" one of them shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "He''s really doing it!" Grashk, now in his second mutation, stood tall, his breathing heavy, his eyes wild with the power surging through him. But he knew there was still more. He had to push himself to the limit, to prove to the others that Volk was right. With a roar that shook the cavern, Grashk''s body expanded again. His third mutation took hold, his form becoming monstrous, his muscles growing to nearly grotesque proportions. His tusks jutted out like massive spears, his arms thick as tree trunks. His transformation was slow, deliberate, as though the very fabric of his being was reshaping itself into something more primal, more powerful. The Orcs watched in stunned silence as Grashk completed his third mutation. His body radiated raw power, his presence dominating the room. He looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists, feeling the overwhelming strength that now flowed through him. Then, without warning, Grashk jumped into the air, soaring high above the ground before landing with a thunderous crash that shook the very earth beneath them. He threw back his head and let out a triumphant roar, his voice echoing through the catacombs. "I DID IT!" Grashk bellowed, pounding his chest with his massive fists. "I DID IT! THREE TIMES!" The other Orcs erupted in cheers, their voices deafening as they celebrated Grashk''s transformation. "GRASHK! GRASHK! GRASHK!" They crowded around him, slapping his massive back, hugging him, shouting his name with admiration and respect. Grashk grinned from ear to ear, flexing his massive arms and letting out another roar of triumph. "I CAN''T BELIEVE IT!" he shouted, his voice booming. "THREE MUTATIONS! I''M A MONSTER!" The celebration seemed to go on forever, the Orcs caught up in the sheer joy of the moment. They had never felt so alive, so powerful. They had never believed that such strength was possible, but now they knew that it was. And they owed it all to Volk. Finally, as the excitement began to die down, Volk raised his hand, signaling for the others to quiet down. "Alright," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Let''s move. We''ve proven our strength today. Now we need to get these crystals back to the clan." The Orcs nodded, one could see their eyes gleaming with pride unlike earlier. They picked up their crystals, their massive forms casting long shadows in the dim light of the catacombs. But this time, as they marched forward, they did so with smiles on their faces, their hearts full of confidence. As they walked, one of the Orcs spoke quietly to another. "I''m glad I followed Volk earlier before entering the boss cave," he muttered, glancing at their leader. "I hesitated at first, but now¡­ Now I see." The other Orc nodded. "Aye. We''ve never had a leader like him." Volk, overhearing them, smirked but said nothing. Instead, he gave them a warning. "Don''t be yes-men," he said, his voice low but firm. "I''m not perfect. And I need warriors who can think for themselves." The Orcs nodded, understanding. They respected Volk not just for his strength, but for his wisdom. They knew that under his leadership, they were destined for greatness. ¡­ Meanwhile, on the other side of the catacombs, the Bloodfang Clan was still locked in battle with the monsters surrounding them. The Orcs who had been defeated were slowly being dragged away into the darkness by the catacomb creatures, their bodies disappearing into the shadows. Though their ranks were thinning, the Bloodfang Clan fought on. Those who had only transformed into their first Grum-gar mutations were no match for the relentless waves of monsters, but the stronger among them held their ground, with their eyes burning with determination. Behind them, other Orc clans watched, waiting for the battle to end so they could move in. Unlike Volk, who never stood idle, these clans were more cautious, more calculating. They waited for the Bloodfang Clan to either emerge victorious or be wiped out entirely. And as they waited, the ground beneath them began to tremble. Dum! Dum! Dum! Chapter 62 - 62: Dreadmaw Clan The tension in the air was thick as the orcs of the Bloodfang Clan and the Ironhide Clan stood frozen, with their eyes wide, slightly shocked. Especially the Ironhide Clan, who had entered the catacombs next to Bloodfang Clan. They could hardly believe what they were seeing. "How in the name of Gruul did the Dreadmaw Clan reach here first?" the leader of the Ironhide Clan muttered under his breath, one could notice his deep voice were barely containing the confusion. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the distant figures of Volk and his orcs, who were trudging steadily through the dark stone corridors, their backs hunched beneath the weight of massive crystals. Behind the leader of the Ironhide Clan, his subordinates stood with their arms crossed, equally bewildered. The blood-red eyes of every orc followed the trail of the Dreadmaw Clan. The sight of those crystals¡ªtheir shimmering surfaces reflecting the dim, flickering torchlight¡ªwas too much to ignore. One of the orcs at the back whispered, "How did they complete the catacombs¡­ that fast?" The Bloodfang Clan orcs were just as stunned. Several of them stood motionless, their tusked jaws slack as they gaped at the impossible sight. Dreadmaw Clan, carrying those crystals, had completed the dungeon first. Even worse, the one leading the Dreadmaw Clan was Volk. The massive orc walked with his usual, almost casual swagger, despite the exhaustion hidden behind his heavy gait. The realization hit the Bloodfang orcs like a slap to the face. "The Dreadmaw Clan finished it?!" "Them? Volk''s tribe?" one of the Bloodfang orcs muttered, disbelief etched on his face. He glanced at his comrades, who were equally dumbfounded. Volk, leading his clan with the immense crystals strapped to their backs, wasn''t in any hurry. They had completed the dungeon, but his mind was on what would happen next. He knew there were eyes on them, watching, calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Bloodfang''s warriors were whispering amongst themselves, looking more and more tempted by the second. If Volk had heard what they were saying, he would''ve been livid. "Fast? "What fast?" He would have scoffed inwardly. They had fought a warlock¡ªa being far beyond what any of these orcs could comprehend. They had struggled, bled, and barely made it out alive. But of course, the other clans knew nothing of that. Ignorance bred arrogance. Volk''s walk was interrupted when one of the orcs, in his Grum-gar form from his own clan stepped forward, his massive figure even casting a long shadow across the cavern floor. "Leader," the Grum-gar said, his deep voice rumbling. "Let me carry your crystal." Volk stopped in his tracks, considering the offer. He glanced at the heavy crystal he''d been hauling across his back. His body ached from the weight, but his pride was far greater than his pain. Still, he wasn''t stupid. He knew when to conserve his strength. "Okay," Volk said, his tone gruff but accepting. He unhooked the straps of the crystal from his shoulders and handed it over to the Grum-gar orc, who took it without hesitation. His mutated muscles bulged as he heaved the crystal onto his own back with a thud. The exchange was brief, but in that moment, Volk''s eyes met the gaze of the Bloodfang orcs. He could see them watching, eyes narrowing, whispering to one another. They weren''t just curious¡ªthey were calculating. Volk could feel the tension rising. The question hung in the air: "Would the Bloodfang Clan make a move?" He and his Dreadmaw Can was prepared for it. Volk''s lips twisted into a smirk as he continued walking, eyes still locked onto the Bloodfang warriors. Every step he took was slow and deliberate, as if daring them to challenge him. As the Dreadmaw Clan marched past, the leader of the Bloodfang Clan stepped forward, his strides confident, almost swaggering. Volk could see it in his posture¡ªthe arrogance, the self-assuredness. The leader of the Bloodfang Clan wore a smug grin as he approached. Volk''s smirk widened. ''Here we go,'' he thought. ''They''re coming.'' S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Bloodfang leader''s laughter echoed through the cavern, deep and mocking. "Congratulations, Volk," he called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you and your boys managed to get your hands on some crystals... easily." Volk didn''t miss a beat. "Naturally," he responded with a matching tone, his smirk never leaving his face. "We''d be fools if we couldn''t." His voice was laced with mockery. Then, without hesitation, he cut straight to the point, his eyes gleaming with challenge. "Do you plan on stealing them?" The Bloodfang leader''s expression shifted slightly. He stopped a few feet away from Volk, still smiling but now with a hint of something darker beneath it. "Stealing?" the Bloodfang leader repeated, raising an eyebrow as though the idea was absurd. Then, he shook his head and began speaking, his voice rising as he addressed not just Volk, but everyone within earshot. "It''s always been known that it is forbidden to interfere with the business of other clans," he began, his tone turning righteous. "Whether they''re in need of help or not. To do so is seen as a challenge to their strength and their honor. In the catacombs, every clan must fight its own battles." The Bloodfang leader''s voice grew louder, and the other orcs began to listen more intently, his words gaining weight with each passing second. "But you!!!!! aaaall interfered. You disrupted the balance," he continued, his eyes now hard, focusing on Volk. "For us, it is an insult. A sign that you think we are too weak to handle our own affairs. And in our world, an insult like that is answered with blood." The silence that followed was palpable. Every orc in the cavern¡ªwhether Bloodfang, Dreadmaw, or Ironhide¡ªstood still, absorbing the weight of the words. The Ironhide Clan orcs, who had been standing at the edge of the scene, were wide-eyed with surprise. They hadn''t expected this. They knew the Dreadmaw Clan had entered the catacombs last, so how had things escalated so quickly? As for the Bloodfang leader, his confidence only grew. He was sure of his assessment. Volk''s clan had to be hiding something. The Dreadmaw orcs, despite their bravado, had clearly fought something fierce. The more confident they seemed, the more the Bloodfang leader believed they were masking their injuries. But as the Bloodfang leader continued his speech, Volk''s eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something far beyond the other orcs'' comprehension. He was reading the room, assessing every glance, every nervous twitch of the Bloodfang warriors. He knew what they were thinking. And that''s why, instead of being scared or defensive, he did something unexpected. He let out a low chuckle, loud enough to silence the murmurs around him. Then, with a swift movement, Volk''s hands dropped the straps of the crystals from his shoulders, letting them fall to the ground with a resounding thud! One by one, the other orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan did the same. The crystals hit the stone floor in unison, echoing through the cavern like the beating of war drums. The Bloodfang leader''s eyes widened in surprise. His confident smirk faltered for just a moment as he saw the Dreadmaw orcs, bruised and battered, now dropping their burdens and standing tall, their chests heaving with the thrill of battle. They were no longer hiding anything. Instead, they were baring their teeth, ready for whatever came next. Volk grinned, his eyes glinting with savage excitement. He raised his fist and bellowed, his voice booming through the chamber with raw energy. "FINALLY!" The rest of the Dreadmaw orcs roared in unison, with their voices filled with unbridled aggression. In their feet, they could feel the sound of the ground reverberated off the walls, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. They wanted this. The battle, it seemed, was about to begin. Chapter 63 - 63: Go back fast 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¡ªdesire. 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¡ªno, not something¡ªdark 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. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. 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¡ªespecially the witches¡ªdon''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¡ªfor 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¡ªmany more¡ªcoming 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. Chapter 64 - 64: Preparation for Migration The scene was a blur of frantic movement and hushed, fearful whispers as the orc clans emerged from the catacombs. It was as if the weight of the Warlock''s dark presence still clung to them, heavy and oppressive. Even the sight of the massive crystal Volk carried on his back went ignored. Normally, such a prize would have been cause for wild celebrations, for the Dreadmaw to boast and taunt their rivals. But not today. Today, there was no victory in the air¡ªonly fear. The Bloodfang and Ironhide clans were already dispersing, their leaders speaking in hurried tones, organizing their own plans. The Dreadmaw clan did the same. There was no time to waste. Their victory over another orc tribe paled in comparison to the larger, more terrifying reality: a Warlock had appeared in the Catacomb. That meant only one thing¡ªdanger, and lots of it. As soon as they returned to their clan, an announcement echoed through the village. Every orc and even the few Elves who lived among the Dreadmaw froze at the sound of the loud, commanding voice of Grella, the clan''s elder. She was a fierce and revered figure, her words carrying the weight of wisdom and experience. When she spoke, the entire clan listened. "Tomorrow," Grella''s voice boomed through the village, reverberating off the wooden huts and stone walls, "we leave this place. The appearance of the Warlock in the Catacomb signals the coming of a dark time, one that cannot be met with steel alone. We must flee!" The murmurs of fear spread through the gathered orcs like wildfire. Grella continued, her voice a thunderous roar that silenced even the bravest warriors. "Do you understand what this means? Warlocks are not mere enemies! They are harbingers of destruction, forces of darkness that even the mightiest of orc clans cannot withstand. Their magic is ancient, their power limitless! And where there is one, more will follow!" Orcs shifted nervously, one could see their large bodies trembling under the weight of Grella''s words. Even the strongest among them, warriors who had never flinched in the face of battle, now glanced uneasily at each other. The Dreadmaw, known for their ferocity in hunting, were visibly shaken as they looked at the forest in fear. The Elves, though fewer in number, had paled, with their faces tight with concern. "The Warlock we encountered was a warning," Grella''s eyes swept over the crowd, her face etched with grim determination. "A warning that this land will soon be overrun. We cannot fight them all. Warlocks bring with them an army¡ªand horrors that have no name in our tongue. Their numbers will drown us! Their magic will tear the sky and burn the earth! If we stay, we will be slaughtered!" Her words struck a deep chord in every orc present. They were born for battle, yes. But even the bravest warrior knew when a battle could not be won. And this was one such battle. Grella''s voice softened for a moment, but the urgency in her tone did not waver. "We must migrate. We must leave this land and find new territory, far from the reach of the Warlocks and their dark minions. It is the only way to survive. Prepare yourselves tonight. For tomorrow, we march." The crowd remained silent, the weight of the elder''s words sinking deep into their bones. Even the rowdiest orcs, those who usually revealed the idea of war, knew that this was different. This was no ordinary enemy. This was survival. As the crowd dispersed, Volk made his way back to his tent. His steps were heavy, his mind racing with everything that had happened. He had slain the Warlock, but at what cost? His clan was now on the brink of leaving their home, driven out by the specter of an even greater enemy. Just as he reached the entrance to his tent, a figure stepped out of the shadows. It was Solluha''r, her slender frame outlined by the dim light of the torches around them. Her eyes, usually sharp and observant, were now filled with worry. "Volk," she breathed, her voice a mix of relief and anxiety. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest as if to make sure he was real. "Did you really meet a Warlock?" Volk gave a small nod. "Yes." Solluha''r''s breath hitched. "And¡­ you defeated it?" Her tone was incredulous, almost disbelieving. The fear of Warlocks ran deep in all the clans, and the idea that one could be defeated by a mere orc was something that bordered on legend. Volk smirked, leaning against the wooden beam of the tent. "Defeated?" He puffed out his chest proudly. "I stomped that Warlock thoroughly. Crushed him under my foot like a bug." Solluha''r raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk forming on her lips. "You? Just like that?" Volk crossed his arms, his voice growing more boastful by the second. "You should''ve seen it, Solluha''r. First, he tried to throw his dark magic at me, but I dodged it, like I was swatting a fly. Then he conjured some kind of shadow beast, and I tore through that too. His face was priceless when he realized he was no match for me." Solluha''r chuckled softly, the tension leaving her body as she listened to his exaggerated tale. "Is that so?" "Oh, that''s not even the best part," Volk continued, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I grabbed him by the neck, lifted him off the ground, and threw him into the wall. He tried to beg for mercy, but I wasn''t having it. One more punch, and the Warlock was nothing but a pile of bones at my feet." sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Solluha''r laughed, the sound melodic and filled with relief. She stepped closer to Volk, resting her forehead against his chest. "You''re impossible," she muttered, savoring the feel of his strong form beneath her hands. For a moment, the tension of the day melted away as Solluha''r stood there, her body pressed against Volk''s. They were alone, just the two of them, in the quiet of the night. But then, her eyes caught something behind him. Something large and shining. The massive crystal. Her eyes widened as she pulled back slightly, looking up at him with astonishment. "Is that¡­ Did you complete the dungeon?" Volk grinned down at her, his pride evident. "I did." Solluha''r''s hands traced over the edges of the crystal, marveling at its size and the power it radiated. She turned back to Volk, her eyes filled with admiration and something more. "You truly are incredible," she whispered, her voice low and breathy. Her hand slid up to his chest again, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. "We''ll need this tomorrow, won''t we?" Volk nodded, though his attention was now focused entirely on her. Solluha''r''s touch was intoxicating, her closeness stirring something primal within him. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, her lips curling into a seductive smile. "Then we should make sure we''re both¡­ ready, shouldn''t we?" Her breath was warm against his skin as she leaned in, pressing her body against his. Her lips brushed his chest, sending a shiver down Volk''s spine. "We''ll need all the energy we can get¡­ for tomorrow." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as Solluha''r''s lips found him, their kiss deep and hungry. The world outside seemed to fade away as they stumbled into the tent, their bodies tangling together in the dim light. Chapter 65 - 65: Betrayal 1/2 The night air was thick with the lingering smell of smoke and sweat as Lhum''Baggar hurried through the dimly lit pathways of the Dreadmaw Clan''s encampment. His heart raced with excitement, with a wide grin splitting his rough, scarred scary face. He had done it¡ªhe had mutated his Grum-gar form into the third phase. The power still coursed through him, his muscles thrumming with the memory of that transformation. All he wanted now was to share the news with his wife, to see the pride in her eyes when she heard. As he neared the familiar outline of their tent, a voice suddenly cut through the night, freezing him in his tracks. "Older Brother¡­" The voice was familiar, too familiar. Lhum''Baggar''s grin faltered, his body stiffening as recognition washed over him. He knew that voice all too well, and with it came memories¡ªbitter, frustrating memories. Without turning, Lhum''Baggar spoke into the dark, his voice low and measured. "Luk''Tar, what do you want?" A shadow shifted in the distance, moving closer, and the atmosphere around Lhum''Baggar seemed to darken. His younger brother stepped into view, his face barely visible in the flickering torchlight. There was something off about him, something dangerous in the way he moved, in the way his eyes gleamed with barely suppressed fury. "You know what I want," Luk''Tar growled, his voice dripping with malice. "But depending on your mood, you didn''t! You could''ve killed him, brother. You could''ve killed that laborer orc¡ªVolk. But you didn''t." Lhum''Baggar clenched his fists, with his teeth grinding together. He had known this was coming, sooner or later. He turned slowly, locking eyes with Luk''Tar. "I didn''t kill him because I lost to him. Fair and square, just like I told you. You need to move on, Luk''Tar. He beat you in battle too. You stole his kill, and he still bested you. It''s over." Luk''Tar''s face twisted with rage, his lips curling back to reveal his tusks. His eyes burned with a hatred that was almost palpable. "Move on? MOVE ON?" His voice rose, echoing through the quiet night like a snarl. "That laborer orc¡ªhe''s taken everything from me! Everything! First, he steals my kill, and now he''s taken my place, my pride! And you, my own brother, you''ve turned your back on me for him!" Lhum''Baggar frowned, his brow furrowing as he watched his brother with growing concern. There was something wrong, something deeply wrong with Luk''Tar. The rage in his voice wasn''t the usual frustration or jealousy¡ªit was deeper, darker, almost unhinged. "What are you talking about, Luk''Tar?" Lhum''Baggar asked, his voice softening. "Volk didn''t take anything from you. You lost that fight because you weren''t ready. You''ve been chasing after that woman instead of training, and it''s showing. You''re angry, I get it, but this¡­this isn''t you." Luk''Tar''s face contorted further, his eyes blazing with fury as he stalked closer. "Not me? NOT ME? That''s rich, coming from you! He''s stolen everything, Lhum''Baggar! Everything! First my kill, then my woman, and now¡­you. My own brother sounds like he''s under Volk''s command. A laborer orc! He''s nothing! And you¡­you defend him!" Lhum''Baggar''s patience snapped, his voice rising in anger. "Enough!" His massive hand lashed out, grabbing Luk''Tar by the arm and yanking him closer. "You think this is Volk''s fault? You think you''ve lost everything because of him? No, Luk''Tar. You lost because you''ve been lazy. You haven''t trained, you haven''t fought for anything, you''ve been chasing after that woman like a dog while the rest of us were becoming stronger!" Luk''Tar tried to pull away, but Lhum''Baggar''s grip was like iron, holding him in place. His brother''s words hit him hard, but instead of retreating, Luk''Tar''s anger only flared hotter. His eyes flashed, his chest heaving as he snarled back at Lhum''Baggar. "So it''s my fault now, is it? Always my fault! You''ve always blamed me for everything, haven''t you? When I was younger, it was ''Luk''Tar, why aren''t you training harder?'' ''Luk''Tar, why aren''t you as strong as Lhum''Baggar?'' "Well, guess what, brother? I''m tired of it. Tired of living in your shadow, tired of being compared to you, and now tired of hearing you side with that damned Volk!" Lhum''Baggar released Luk''Tar, shoving him back with a force that sent his younger brother stumbling. His own anger boiled over, and his voice thundered through the camp. "You think this is about me? You think I care about being compared to you? No, Luk''Tar, this is about you! You''ve been chasing after things that don''t matter¡ªwomen, glory, whatever you think will make you important. But you''ve forgotten what it means to be an orc of the Dreadmaw Clan! Strength, honor, battle! You''ve forgotten all of it!" Lhum''Baggar''s chest heaved as he glared at his brother, his voice filled with disappointment. "You lost to Volk because you weren''t ready. You let your jealousy, your laziness get in the way of what really matters. And now, you''re standing here, whining like a child because you didn''t get what you wanted. "Well, guess what, Luk''Tar? That''s not how our clan works. You want something? You fight for it. Do you want respect? You earn it. Volk did, and that''s why he''s stronger than you." Luk''Tar stood there, chest rising and falling rapidly as he glared at his brother, his eyes wild with rage. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a blade. Then, suddenly, Luk''Tar''s face changed. His rage seemed to drain away, replaced by something colder, more calculating. His lips curled into a cruel smile as he took a step back, his hands held up in mock surrender. "Fine, brother. Fine." His voice was low now, almost calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made Lhum''Baggar''s skin crawl. "You''re right. Maybe I have been too focused on things that don''t matter. Maybe I haven''t been training hard enough. But if that''s the case, I want to show you something." Lhum''Baggar narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the sudden change in his brother''s demeanor. "What are you talking about?" Luk''Tar''s grin widened, a twisted, unsettling smile that made Lhum''Baggar''s stomach churn. "Come with me, brother. I want you to meet someone." Lhum''Baggar hesitated, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. But curiosity and concern for his brother won out. "Meet someone? Who?" Luk''Tar''s smile didn''t falter as he turned and began walking away, his voice floating back over his shoulder. "Someone who can help me. Someone who can help us both." Lhum''Baggar felt a cold knot of dread form in his stomach as he watched his brother disappear into the shadows. He took a deep breath, his mind racing. Something was very wrong, and he couldn''t shake the feeling that whatever Luk''Tar was about to show him, it wasn''t good. Without another word, Lhum''Baggar followed his brother into the darkness, his heart pounding in his chest. As they walked, Luk''Tar''s voice floated back to him, cold and almost mocking. "I wonder what your wife will think of this¡­" Lhum''Baggar''s blood ran cold, his eyes widening in shock. "My wife?" he whispered, his heart skipping a beat. What was his brother planning? The night seemed to close in around him as Lhum''Baggar quickened his pace, his mind racing with dark thoughts. Chapter 66 - 66: Betrayal 2/2 Lhum''Baggar sprinted through the darkened pathways of the Dreadmaw Clan''s settlement, he could feel his heart thundering in his chest as his brother mentioned his wife. There was a storm of emotions swirling inside him. His feet barely touched the ground as he rushed toward his home, his mind racing with confusion and anger after the unsettling encounter with his brother, Luk''Tar. The knot of dread that had been forming in his stomach tightened with each passing second. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. As he reached the entrance to his tent, the sight before him sent a shockwave through his entire body. His wife, the love of his life, was there, but she was tied to a thick wooden post, her arms bound tightly with ropes. Bruises marred her usually flawless skin, her face twisted in pain and humiliation. But it wasn''t just the bruises that caused Lhum''Baggar to stagger back in horror. "Lhum''Ba¡­" she tried to utter his name. Lhum''Baggar was heartbroken, his eyes traveled down her body, and what he saw shattered his soul. Between her legs, the delicate protective scales that only she could close¡ªscales that once symbolized their bond, their unity¡ªhad been pried apart. An orc and elf''s bond was sacred; once formed, the elf could choose to seal her most intimate parts, ensuring that no other could touch her. Now, those scales were forcibly opened, ripped apart, and something vile, something unspeakable, was leaking from her. Lhum''Baggar''s breath caught in his throat. He took a step back, his mind unable to fully process what was in front of him. His eyes widened, his hands trembled uncontrollably, and his legs threatened to give out beneath him. "No...no...this can''t be happening..." His voice was barely a whisper, choked with disbelief. The reality was too monstrous to comprehend. His mind screamed at him to move, to untie her, to do anything, but he was paralyzed, frozen by the sheer horror. His wife''s whimpers of pain and her broken gaze tore through him like a thousand knives. Suddenly, a cold, mocking laugh filled the air, shattering the silence like glass. "Riririririri..." The voice was unmistakable, and it made Lhum''Baggar''s blood run cold. "I didn''t think you''d find her so soon, older brother. I was just getting started." Lhum''Baggar spun around, his eyes locking onto the shadowy figure standing at the edge of the room¡ªLuk''Tar. His younger brother stood there, a twisted grin plastered across his face, his eyes gleaming with sickening satisfaction. "You...you son of a bitch!" Lhum''Baggar roared, his voice booming through the tent as rage exploded inside him. His entire body shook with fury, his fists clenching so hard that his knuckles turned white. Luk''Tar took a step forward, his smile widening as he continued to mock. "I was going to pay a visit to Solluha''r first, you know, but her place was too well-guarded. So, I thought...why not visit your wife instead? And, brother, you never told me she was such a gem! She''s even tastier than I imagined." He licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with perverse delight. That was the final straw. Lhum''Baggar''s world turned red with fury. He let out a primal roar that shook the very ground beneath them. Without thinking, he lunged at Luk''Tar, his fists swinging wildly. "You filthy bastard! I''ll kill you! I''ll rip you apart!" Lhum''Baggar''s first punch connected with Luk''Tar''s jaw with a sickening CRACK, sending him flying across the room. But Luk''Tar only laughed¡ªa crazed, maniacal laugh that echoed through the tent, RIRIRIRIRIRIIRIII! fueling Lhum''Baggar''s rage even more. With a speed fueled by pure hatred, Lhum''Baggar closed the distance between them and continued his assault. His fists hammered down on Luk''Tar, one after another. BAM! BAM! BAM! Left, right, left, right¡ªpunches rained down like a relentless storm. Each strike was a thunderous blow, one could hear the sound of bone crunching and flesh tearing filling the air in the dead of the night. "Is this what you wanted!?" Lhum''Baggar bellowed, his voice raw with fury. "You disgusting coward!" But no matter how much he hit Luk''Tar, no matter how much blood spilled from his brother''s broken face, Luk''Tar only laughed harder. His laughter was a twisted, maddening sound, one that made Lhum''Baggar''s skin crawl. "You...think you can kill me?" Luk''Tar spat through bloodied teeth, his voice laced with insanity. "You think...you''re stronger than me? Go ahead...hit me...HIT ME MORE!" Lhum''Baggar''s rage surged to a new height, his body trembling with the intensity of his emotions. He lifted Luk''Tar into the air and slammed him down into the dirt, the force of the impact shaking the ground. "I''ll rip you apart limb by limb, you bastard!" Lhum''Baggar roared, his voice cracking with the strain of his fury. He raised his fist, ready to bring it down on Luk''Tar''s skull, ready to end it, to crush the life out of the monster his brother had become. But just as he was about to strike, Luk''Tar''s hand shot up, grabbing Lhum''Baggar''s wrist with inhuman strength. Lhum''Baggar''s eyes widened in shock as he felt a surge of power radiate from his brother''s grip. With a sickening KABOOM, Luk''Tar unleashed a burst of force, sending Lhum''Baggar flying back through the air. He crashed into the side of the tent, the impact knocking the wind out of him and leaving him gasping for breath. Luk''Tar stood up slowly, wiping the blood from his face with a twisted grin. His eyes glowed with a dark, unnatural energy, and his entire body seemed to pulse with raw power. "You think you can kill me, brother?" Luk''Tar sneered, his voice now laced with a sinister, otherworldly tone. "Let me show you...my true power." Lhum''Baggar struggled to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the figure standing before him. This wasn''t the Luk''Tar he knew. This was something else¡ªsomething far more dangerous. Something far more monstrous. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Luk''Tar''s body began to shift and grow, his muscles bulging grotesquely as the dark energy within him surged to the surface. His eyes blazed with a malevolent light, and his twisted grin stretched wider than seemed possible. Lhum''Baggar''s breath came in ragged gasps as he watched in horror. He had never seen anything like this before. Whatever had happened to Luk''Tar, whatever dark power he had tapped into, it had turned him into something...unnatural. "You...you''ve gone mad," Lhum''Baggar whispered, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and terror. "What have you done?" Luk''Tar laughed¡ªa deep, bone-chilling laugh that sent a shiver down Lhum''Baggar''s spine. "I''ve embraced what you and Volk never could. Power. True power. And now, brother...I''ll show you just how weak you really are." With that, Luk''Tar lunged at Lhum''Baggar, his movements a blur of speed and violence. Lhum''Baggar barely had time to react as his brother''s fist slammed into his gut, sending him crashing through the side of the tent and into the dirt outside. Lhum''Baggar coughed up blood, his body wracked with pain as he struggled to push himself to his feet. But before he could fully stand, Luk''Tar was upon him again, his fists a whirlwind of fury as he pummeled Lhum''Baggar into the ground. WHAAAAAMMMM!! "Is this what you wanted, brother?" Luk''Tar snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "Is this what you wanted to see? Your precious honor, your precious strength¡ªit''s nothing compared to real power!" Lhum''Baggar groaned in pain, his vision swimming as the world around him blurred. He could feel his strength slipping away, his body breaking under the relentless assault. But even as the darkness threatened to consume him, one thought burned bright in his mind. He had to stop Luk''Tar. He had to protect the clan. The Dreadmaw Clan! With one last surge of willpower, Lhum''Baggar lashed out, catching Luk''Tar by surprise and throwing him off balance. He staggered to his feet, bloodied and bruised but still standing. Chapter 67 - 67: LhumBaggars End Lhum''Baggar breathed heavily, his chest heaving as he stood ready, his eyes locked onto Luk''Tar, who now prowled around him in a predatory circle. The air was thick with tension, every muscle in Lhum''Baggar''s body coiled, anticipating the next strike. But there was something about Luk''Tar''s movements that unsettled him, something dark, almost feral. "I see it in your eyes, brother," Luk''Tar sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "You don''t understand what you''re looking at, do you?" He chuckled darkly, the sound crawling under Lhum''Baggar''s skin like a thousand spiders. Luk''Tar''s form had changed, grown larger, his muscles bulging unnaturally. His skin had taken on a darker hue, his eyes gleaming with an eerie light. He was not just a normal Ogre anymore. He had become something more. Something darker. "I''ll tell you what this is," Luk''Tar continued, circling closer, his steps deliberate, almost mocking. "This... is power. Real power. Power you''ll never know, Lhum''Baggar." He grinned, baring his teeth. "This is the Grum-gar form, Phase Three. A form you''ll never achieve in your pathetic life." Lhum''Baggar''s eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of his twisted brother. "Phase Three?" he growled through clenched teeth. "That''s right," Luk''Tar gloated, raising his arms and flexing the grotesque muscles that rippled beneath his skin. "The ultimate evolution of our kind before the fifth Mag''Durotan. A power reserved only for those who are chosen. You wouldn''t understand it. You''re still fumbling around in Phase One like a child playing with sticks." Lhum''Baggar''s heart pounded with rage. He had worked his entire life to perfect the Grum-gar form, dedicating every ounce of his strength to the tribe, to honor. And here was Luk''Tar, mocking him, claiming to have surpassed him in ways that were unfathomable. "You always thought you were better than me, didn''t you, brother?" Luk''Tar spat, his tone venomous. "Just because you awakened the Grum-gar form before I did. But look at you now! Weak. Pitiful. You couldn''t even protect your own wife!" Lhum''Baggar''s fists clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white. Every word Luk''Tar said stoked the fire of his fury, igniting something deep within him. He could feel it building, the raw power of his Grum-gar form, struggling to break free. "You''re wrong!" Lhum''Baggar shouted, his voice thunderous. "You''re not the only one who can transform!" With a guttural roar, Lhum''Baggar''s body erupted with energy, his muscles expanding, his veins bulging as his skin took on the familiar glow of the Grum-gar form. His transformation was violent, powerful, and within moments, he stood at the same massive height as Luk''Tar. But even with their matching size, Lhum''Baggar had something his brother didn''t¡ªyears of experience and training. Lhum''Baggar''s body glowed with the strength of the 5th Mag''Durotan state, a level far beyond Luk''Tar''s mere 1st. His aura radiated power, and for the first time, Luk''Tar''s sneer faltered. The beatdown that followed was swift and brutal. Lhum''Baggar unleashed his full fury upon his brother, his fists pounding into Luk''Tar''s body with devastating force. Blow after blow rained down, each one fueled by years of suppressed anger and betrayal. Luk''Tar''s earlier bravado quickly turned to panic as he realized he was outmatched. "THIS? POWER? LUK''TAR? Is this the strength you bragged about?" Lhum''Baggar roared, his fists slamming into his brother''s ribs with a sickening crack. Luk''Tar howled in pain, but his crazed laughter still echoed through the night, even as blood poured from his mouth. He tried to fight back, but Lhum''Baggar''s superior strength overwhelmed him. Desperation crept into Luk''Tar''s eyes as he struggled against his elder brother''s relentless assault. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a thunderous BANG. Lhum''Baggar staggered as something massive struck him from behind. The force sent him skidding across the ground, his body slamming into a boulder with bone-jarring impact. Dazed, he looked up, his vision blurry, trying to make sense of what had hit him. And then he saw him. Lak''Ran Durghan, their father, stood tall and imposing, his Grum-gar form even more grotesque than Luk''Tar''s. His skin was darker, almost black, and his eyes¡ªthose once proud and fierce eyes¡ªwere now completely consumed by inky darkness, devoid of any light or soul. "FATHER...?" Lhum''Baggar muttered, struggling to his feet. Lak''Ran stood over him, a massive war hammer gripped in his hand, its head still dripping with Lhum''Baggar''s blood. "Come with us, Lhum''Baggar," Lak''Ran said, his voice a low, commanding growl. There was something off about him, something unnatural, but Lhum''Baggar couldn''t quite place it. His father had always been strict, always been harsh, but this... this was different. Before Lhum''Baggar could respond, a weak, trembling voice reached his ears. "Elf... Dark... Elf..." Lhum''Baggar''s head snapped toward the sound, his heart freezing in his chest. It was his wife, barely able to speak, her voice a faint whisper. Her body was trembling, her once beautiful features now gaunt and pale, as though something had drained the life out of her. And then it clicked¡ªthe dark magic, the strange transformation, the twisted power surrounding both Luk''Tar and their father. Dark Elves. Lhum''Baggar''s blood ran cold. The Dark Elves were predators, hunters of their tribe, just like the Red Elven Warlocks. The Hornless Orcs had long been caught in the middle of the endless war between the two, often falling victim to their insidious plots. And now, they had come for his family. Luk''Tar let out another deranged laugh. "Yes, brother! The Dark Elves! My new master, Lady Shyvria, has shown me true power. She''s given me everything I''ve ever wanted¡ªstrength, more women, and freedom! No more slaving away for the tribe, no more following weaklings like Volk!" He grinned, his madness gleaming in his eyes. "You can join us, Lhum''Baggar. You can have it all! Power beyond your wildest dreams! Just look at father¡ªlook at me! This is what we were meant to become!" Lhum''Baggar''s mind raced as he processed his brother''s words. Dark Elves. Luk''Tar had sold his soul to them, and now they wanted him to do the same. "NO...NO..." Lhum''Baggar muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. But before he could fully react, Luk''Tar moved quickly toward Lhum''Baggar''s wife, his hand gripping a strange vial filled with a glowing black liquid. Luk''Tar forced the vial into her mouth, tipping her head back as the liquid poured down her throat. Lhum''Baggar''s heart leaped into his throat as he watched in horror, unable to move fast enough to stop it. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lak''Ran, standing stoic and uncaring, spoke again. "She will join us, Lhum''Baggar. It''s the only way." "NO!" Lhum''Baggar screamed, lunging forward, but it was too late. His wife''s body began to convulse, her skin darkening, her eyes turning black like Lak''Ran''s. The corruption was spreading through her rapidly, consuming her from the inside out. But even in her final moments, her voice remained defiant. "I... will never betray... my clan¡­ our clan!" she gasped, her voice so weak but resolute. Her eyes locked onto Lhum''Baggar''s, filled with love and sorrow. "I... will always... love you." And then, with a violent explosion of pure hazard, her body disintegrated, leaving nothing but a void where she once stood. The blast sent a shockwave through the air, knocking Lhum''Baggar off his feet. "NO... NO... NOOOO!" Lhum''Baggar''s scream tore through the night, with his grief and rage spilling over in an uncontrollable torrent. His wife was gone. His brother and father had betrayed him. Everything he had ever known, ever loved, had been ripped away from him in the span of minutes. Lak''Ran stared down at the spot where his daughter-in-law had perished, with his expression remaining cold and indifferent as if she was nothing. "Foolish witch," he muttered under his breath. Then, turning his gaze back to Lhum''Baggar, he said, "You''re a disappointment, my son." Lhum''Baggar''s eyes blazed with fury as he slowly rose to his feet, his body shaking with barely contained rage. "ME¡­ KILL YOU¡­ BOOOOTH!!!!" he growled, his voice trembling with emotion. "ME¡­ KILL YOU¡­ BOOOOTH!!!!" The night was silent, save for the crackling of the distant fire, as father and son stared each other down, the rift between them now an unbridgeable chasm of their differences. "So be it," Lak''Ran would mumble. Chapter 68 - 68: Among Orcs Volk jolted awake, with his body drenched in heavy sweat. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breathing was ragged as if he''d just fought a battle in his sleep. His hand instinctively reached for his side, grasping at the blankets, his mind swirling with fragmented images of his dream. The sense of impending doom that had washed over him moments ago still lingered like a shadow. Next to him, Solluha''r stirred, her soft voice cutting through the thick fog in his mind. "Hmm? Volk, what''s wrong?" Her hand gently traced the contours of his back, the touch soothing, though her voice carried concern. Volk exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm of thoughts. "I had a bad dream... something bad is going to happen to the tribe." His words came out slower than usual, heavy with a weight he couldn''t quite explain. He rolled over to face Solluha''r, her green eyes catching the moonlight that filtered through the window, reflecting back at him with a sense of curiosity and patience. "A bad dream?" Solluha''r''s brow furrowed as she adjusted herself to sit up next to him. "What did you see?" Volk stared at the ceiling for a long moment, trying to recall the details. "There was fire... destruction. I saw the tribe, running. There was a great shadow over us... something was hunting us. No, not hunting. It was... watching. Waiting." Her gaze didn''t waver as she listened intently, her hand still resting lightly on his arm. "It sounds like a vision of danger. But Volk, dreams are often not what they seem." Volk clenched his fist, the feeling of helplessness gnawing at him. "I know. But this felt different, more than just a dream. It felt like... a warning." Solluha''r moved closer, placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder. "You''ve been through so much these past days. Fighting Zenveil, navigating that catacomb, retrieving that crystal¡­ your mind is exhausted. The burden you''re carrying is heavy." Volk let out a slow breath, his muscles relaxing slightly at her touch. "Maybe you''re right. Maybe it''s just the weight of everything catching up to me." There was a comfortable silence between them for a few moments, the night air cool against their skin. Solluha''r laid her head on Volk''s chest, her breath soft and steady as if trying to share her calm with him. "You always worry about everyone," she said quietly. "Even in your sleep, you can''t let go of that responsibility." "It''s my job," Volk muttered, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. "If I don''t protect them... who will?" S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Solluha''r tilted her head to look up at him, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "You''re not alone, Volk. You''ve got me, the other Orcs, the Elves. You don''t have to carry this weight by yourself." He smiled faintly, placing his large hand over hers. "You always know what to say." "I just know you," she replied softly, her fingers entwining with his. "And I know how hard you push yourself. But even the strongest need rest. You can''t protect the tribe if you''re worn down." Volk let out a low chuckle, though it didn''t quite reach his eyes. "You make it sound so simple." "It is simple," she said, smiling gently at him. "But that doesn''t mean it''s easy." For a while, they simply lay there, letting the quiet stretch between them. The tension in Volk''s body gradually eased, and the storm in his mind began to settle. Solluha''r''s presence was grounding, like the earth beneath his feet¡ªa reminder that even in the face of overwhelming odds, there was always something solid to hold onto. He exhaled again, feeling a little lighter, and his thoughts turned to his abilities. He glanced at his fist, and with a faint flash in his mind, he heard the familiar ding! of his internal system. | Ding! | 1. Nuclear Devastation Botanical Strike: (10) | 2. Nuclear Devastation Wind Strike: (6) | 3. Nuclear Devastation Earth Strike: (10) | 4. Nuclear Devastation Water Strike: (3) | His eyes widened slightly as he focused on the third option. "Has my Earth magic improved?" he muttered aloud. Solluha''r looked up at him, intrigued. "What do you mean?" "The crystal I took from the dungeon... it must''ve done something. My Earth magic... it''s stronger now." He glanced at her, still half-wondering how he had unlocked this improvement. "You said it was a Stone and Earth magic crystal, right?" She nodded, brushing her hair back from her face. "Yes, exactly. Since you don''t have any natural affinity for Stone magic, the crystal must have channeled its energy directly into your Earth magic." Volk flexed his fingers, the power humming through him, raw and unyielding. "Makes sense. I feel... like I can move mountains with this." "You probably can," Solluha''r teased, smiling at him. "But you''ll need all that strength tomorrow. Today, we should focus on resting. There''s no telling what the migration will bring." Just as they settled back into the comfort of each other''s presence, a loud trumpet blast tore through the air. The sound was jarring, high-pitched, and urgent. Zeeeeeeeeeeenng! Volk shot up from the bed, his instincts kicking in immediately. Solluha''r followed, both of them now fully alert. "That''s the signal," Volk muttered, grabbing his nearby gear. Another sound followed, a booming male Orc voice resonating through the village. "All Orcs, assemble! Prepare your necessities first!" Volk and Solluha''r exchanged a quick glance. Without wasting any time, they scrambled to gather what they needed for the journey. A second voice followed shortly after, this one was feminine, smooth yet commanding. "Elves, prepare and assemble!" The commanding tone cut through the early dawn, signaling that the time had come. Solluha''r pulled on her traveling garb, her movements fast but precise. "It''s time," Volk said, nodding toward her. His gaze shifted toward the small bundle of supplies he had hastily thrown together. They didn''t need much, just the essentials. There would be no looking back once they left. They both stood in silence for a moment, then Solluha''r gave him a quick smile. "We''ve got this," she said, her voice filled with confidence that Volk desperately needed to hear. Outside, the Orcs and Elves were already gathering, the heavy atmosphere thick with the weight of the unknown. One by one, they emerged from their tower homes, their faces grim as they prepared to leave behind the place they had called home for so long. The air felt different, heavier, as though the land itself mourned their departure. Volk and Solluha''r joined the line of Orcs, standing shoulder to shoulder with their comrades. The somberness of the moment washed over their presence like a wave of mournful mist, the realization that this might be the last time they stood on their homeland pressing down on their chest. Volk''s hand tightened into a fist, his eyes scanning the crowd. There was something else here, a hidden danger lurking just beyond their sight. As they moved slowly toward the gathering point, a familiar ding! echoed in his mind once again. | Ding! | Mission: Find at least one of the traitors. | Rewards: High-level Boxing. | Failure: Nuclear Devastation Earth Strike will be lost. | Volk''s eyes widened, with his heart immediately skipping a beat. Traitors? For real? There were traitors among them, and he had no idea who they could be. Chapter 69 - 69: Missing Orc: LhumBaggar Volk stood still amidst the crowd of Orcs and Elves, with his hand hovering over his chest as his heart raced with uncertainty. The mission that had just appeared in his mind, the cold, mechanical voice of his system, echoed again: | Find at least one of the traitors. | Those words in the mission felt like it was latching on him. The tribe was preparing to march, and yet there was a traitor among them. Volk closed his eyes, trying to center himself in his head, his mind began to think carefully and to make sense of it all. Where should he start? Who could it be? He knew this wasn''t some random challenge. The system never gave him missions unless they were tied to events directly involving him. The enemy had to be someone he had already encountered. ''It had to be,'' he reasoned, trying to calm the rising panic in his chest. Volk had long learned that his system didn''t simply give vague commands. It activated in response to situations where he was directly involved. If the mission asked him to find a traitor, it meant the traitor was someone in his immediate sphere¡ªsomeone he had met, fought with, or even shared a conversation with. Volk drew a slow breath, organizing his thoughts as he began to recall every face, every interaction he''d had over the past few weeks. ''Who who who?'' he asked himself. This wasn''t just a casual challenge; it was personal. He thought back to Grak''thor, the butcher. The image of Grak''thor loomed large in his mind, his massive form draped in furs, his hands stained red from the day''s work. Grak''thor said he had arrived from a tribe that had been destroyed, claiming to have been the sole survivor of a brutal assault. Volk remembered how the butcher explained how had he integrated into the Dreadmaw Clan, offering his skills in exchange for a place among them. But something about Grak''thor''s story always seemed... incomplete. ''Why did I think of him first?'' Volk asked himself, his thoughts were in circles. There was something about his arrival that had struck him as odd. Grak''thor had come from nowhere, just as the Dreadmaw Clan was beginning to consolidate its power. He had stories of his tribe being slaughtered by raiders, of escaping by the skin of his teeth. But Volk had learned long ago that anyone who survived such devastation either came back broken or filled with a thirst for vengeance. Grak''thor seemed... indifferent, too quick to blend into the everyday life of the clan, as though the destruction of his former people was of little concern. But then, Volk shook his head. No, he thought, G Grak''thor saved Grok''Thar''s mother, didn''t he? He vividly recalled Grok''Thar''s tale, recounting how Grak''thor had risked his life to save her from a pack of wild beasts, earning the clan''s respect. In fact, Grak''thor had even honored Volk by giving him a magical crystal in exchange for one of the finest pieces of meat. That didn''t seem like the act of a traitor. Volk bit his lip, his brow furrowing deeper as he moved on to the next name in his mind: Gozorm''al, one of the elders. He remembered his duel with the old Orc, a contest of strength and pride that ended in Gozorm''al''s defeat. The elder had underestimated Volk, thinking his youth would betray him, but Volk had proven his might. At the time, Gozorm''al had offered him a token of respect: bone armor, a prized possession handed down from his ancestors. It was a sign of honor, something a traitor would never offer. Volk shook his head again, casting the suspicion away. Gozorm''al wasn''t the type to betray his kin. The old Orc had lived through countless battles and had no reason to seek the tribe''s downfall. If anything, he was committed to seeing the Dreadmaw Clan thrive, even if it meant stepping aside for the younger generation. Volk''s frustration grew as he ran through the list of Orcs in his mind. Each one had a story, a reason why they couldn''t be the traitor. He had fought and spent time alongside them, shared food with them. Who would betray them? Suddenly, his eyes widened as he remembered someone he hadn''t thought of in all this time. His gaze drifted to the axe strapped to his side¡ªthe axe given to him by Lhum''Baggar after their duel. Where was Lhum''Baggar? Volk frowned. He had seen Grok''Thar, Grashk, and many of the others since the preparations for the migration had begun. But Lhum''Baggar? He hadn''t seen him or his elven wife since yesterday. The longer he thought about it, the more troubling it became. Lhum''Baggar was not the type to simply disappear. He was proud, strong, and well respected in the clan. He wouldn''t vanish without reason. "Where is Lhum''Baggar?" Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk muttered under his breath. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. Why hadn''t he thought of it before? Lhum''Baggar was always involved in clan matters. It made no sense for him to be absent during such an important event. Volk''s thoughts began to spiral. Could it be? The pieces were slowly falling into place. The axe Lhum''Baggar had given him¡ªit had always felt heavier than it should. Something about the weapon felt... off, as if it carried a secret of its own. And now, with the mission ringing in his ears, Volk couldn''t shake the growing suspicion that Lhum''Baggar''s disappearance was tied to the traitor''s identity. His heart pounded faster, and his grip tightened on the handle of the axe. There was no proof, not yet. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Lhum''Baggar was gone. Was he hiding something? Or worse¡ªhad he betrayed them all? As Volk''s mind raced, a sudden sound broke through the heavy silence. "Dreadmaw Clan, MAAARRCCHHH!!!" The booming command reverberated through the air, shaking Volk out of his thoughts. The rest of the tribe began to stir, their movements quick and deliberate as they prepared to move. The urgency in the air was palpable, as if the entire clan could sense that this migration wasn''t just a simple journey¡ªit was an escape. They were leaving something behind, something dangerous. Volk stood frozen in place as the others began to fall in line. His thoughts still circled around Lhum''Baggar, the axe, the mission. It all pointed in the same direction, but it felt incomplete, like a half-finished puzzle with the final piece just out of reach. He looked down at the axe again, his fingers tracing its cold, metal surface. There was something here, something related to Lhum''Baggar. Volk''s instincts screamed at him to act, to stop everything, to demand answers. But hesitation was eating his head. What if he was wrong? What if Lhum''Baggar was innocent? But what if he wasn''t? As the tribe prepared to march, Volk''s heart hammered in his chest, every second became heavy. He could feel it now, the pulse of danger running through the air, the eyes of the traitor watching from the shadows. With every passing moment, the sense of urgency grew, until it threatened to crush his soul. Finally, Volk couldn''t take it anymore. The pressure built to a boiling point, and before he knew it, he was shouting at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing across the camp. "WAAAAIIIIIIIIIIITTTTT!!!!!!!" Chapter 70 - 70: Found one Volk''s voice echoed again, desperation lacing his words as he screamed, "WAIIIIIIITTTTT!" His throat felt raw, and his breath came in harsh gasps, hoping to catch their attention, but his pleas were drowned out by the sounds of the marching Orcs and Elves. The clan was on the move, and no one paid him any mind, no one seemed to care about his shout. Beside him, Solluha''r, her brow furrowed in concern, reached out to grip her husband''s arm. "Volk, what''s going on?" she asked, her voice low yet insistent. Her violet eyes searched his face, seeing the turmoil written across it. "There''s a traitor," Volk muttered, almost to himself, the weight of the accusation pressing down on his chest. His heart thudded heavily against his ribcage. Solluha''r''s sharp ears picked up his words instantly, and she stiffened. "A traitor?" she repeated, shocked. Her mind raced. "How do you know this?" she pressed, pulling him to the side of the moving line, her tone urgent. Volk hesitated. He couldn''t just blurt out that his system had delivered this message. It wasn''t something anyone could easily understand¡ªhis abilities were still mysterious even to him. "I can''t explain," he said at last, shaking his head. "But I know it''s true. Someone in the tribe is working against us." Solluha''r narrowed her eyes, her agile mind whirring as she took in his words. She trusted Volk¡ªmore than anyone. But this was a dangerous claim. "Who do you think it is?" she asked carefully, her voice steady despite the rising tension. Volk swallowed hard, glancing around at the marching Orcs and Elves, some of whom shot curious glances in their direction. "Lhum''Baggar. It''s connected to him somehow." "Lhum''Baggar?" Solluha''r echoed, her eyes flashing with alarm. She bit her lip, thinking. "But where is he? I haven''t seen him or his wife since you told me about the catacombs yesterday." Her voice trailed off as the realization hit her, her sharp mind piecing things together faster than Volk could. "Wait... don''t tell me..." Her eyes grew wide, and she whispered, "Luk''Tar?" Volk''s eyes snapped to hers, and a cold chill ran down his spine. How had he not thought of Luk''Tar? His mind replayed the confrontations he had against Lhum''Baggar''s younger brother, Luk''Tar. The hate on his face when Volk stole Solluha''r from him. The tension between them had always simmered, but now... now, he could feel something far darker seemed to be at play. Could Luk''Tar be involved? Before he could respond, a presence approached from behind. The faint sound of footsteps stopped near them, and a feminine voice, tinged with authority, cut through the air. "Why are you screaming ''wait'' for?" the voice asked, calm but with a quiet force that demanded an answer. Volk and Solluha''r turned simultaneously to face the newcomer. A tall, elegant Elf stood before them. She was strikingly beautiful, her golden hair flowing down her back in intricate braids, her pale skin radiant in the moonlight. But there was more than beauty to this woman¡ªthere was power. She held herself with the commanding presence of someone used to being obeyed. Her amber eyes gleamed with curiosity as she studied Volk. Her scent hit them next, a subtle mixture of floral oils and something... ancient, something that made Volk immediately aware that she wasn''t just any Elf. This was someone with status, someone the older members of the Dreadmaw Clan probably knew well. "Well?" the Elf said again, her voice even, but the hint of amusement in her tone irritated Volk. "Why are you causing such a disturbance when we are in the middle of marching? Or are you unaware that we are trying to flee from Warlocks?" Her smile was thin and sharp, like the edge of a blade. Volk opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. He didn''t know how to explain it¡ªhow to accuse one of their own in front of someone so imposing. But Solluha''r gave him a subtle nod, encouraging him to speak. He had no choice. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. If he stayed silent now, the traitor could or might escape. With hesitation, Volk finally answered, his voice low but firm, "I... I can feel it. There''s a traitor among us." The Elf raised one perfect brow, then laughed lightly, though it lacked warmth. "A traitor? Now? You choose now to make such a claim?" Her amber eyes sparkled with amusement as if Volk had just told her a joke. "We''re fleeing from the Red Warlocks, Orc. Do you think this is the time to start accusing your own?" Her smile vanished, and her eyes sharpened. "Tell me, who do you believe is the traitor? I''m curious." Volk hesitated again, glancing at Solluha''r for reassurance before he finally said, "Lhum''Baggar. It''s connected to him." The Elf''s expression changed instantly. Her playful demeanor evaporated, replaced by a look of cold calculation. "Lhum''Baggar?" she repeated, the name hanging in the air like a dark cloud. She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as if processing the information. "What''s his surname?" Volk blinked, his mind racing for the answer. Then, he replied, "Durghan." The moment the name left his lips, the Elf''s reaction was immediate. Her face twisted into shock, her amber eyes wide as she stepped back slightly, processing what Volk had just said. There was a brief silence before she straightened, her face now a mask of grim suspicion. Without warning, the Elf raised her hand, and a stream of shimmering magic particles flowed from her fingertips. The air around them vibrated as her magic coalesced into a sphere of light. Then, her voice, amplified by her magic, boomed across the camp. "HAAAAAALLLTT!!" The power of her voice carried far and wide, stopping the entire march in its tracks. Every Orc, every Elf, every being within the Dreadmaw Clan froze as the command echoed through the night. The Elf''s eyes burned with intensity as she glanced at Volk before shouting again, "Lak''Ran Durghan, you are summoned!" For a moment, silence filled the air, thick with tension. And then, in the distance, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed back in response. The ground trembled slightly as something¡ªsomeone¡ªapproached. Soon, a massive figure stepped forward from the shadows, and Volk''s heart skipped a beat. Lak''Ran Durghan, the father of Lhum''Baggar and Luk''Tar, appeared. His hulking form cast a long shadow, and the air around him seemed to pulse with dark energy. His skin, once the color of a rich, earthen brown, now held a darker hue, almost as if tainted by something unnatural. His eyes¡ªpitch black, void of any emotion¡ªstared out at the crowd, radiating menace. Volk felt his body tense instinctively, sensing the overwhelming magical energy coming from Lak''Ran. It was oppressive, suffocating. Every particle in the air seemed to hum with danger. This was not just any Orc. This was someone who had dabbled in powers far beyond the normal Grum-gar form. His aura felt tainted, corrupted by something... dark. Lak''Ran Durghan''s gaze fell upon Volk, and for a brief moment, the two locked eyes. The oppressive power of the elder Orc washed over Volk, and the realization hit him like a thunderbolt. His voice trembled, but the words spilled out before he could stop them. "You... you are one of the traitors!" Chapter 71 - 71: Traitors requiem The crowd of Orcs and Elves around Volk began murmuring, one could see their voices were growing louder and louder, and each was filled with confusion and curiosity. Volk could hear snippets of conversations swirling around him, bits of dialogue that made the tension in the air even thicker. "Did he just say Lak''Ran is a traitor?" "The Labor Orc must be mistaken... Lak''Ran? No way." "But why would he say that? Labor Orcs don''t just throw around accusations." "I thought Lak''Ran was one of the strongest among the Dreadmaw Clan... Why would he betray us?" "Maybe the Labor Orc''s onto something. Labor Orcs are known for their sensitivity to magic. What if he''s right?" Volk''s ears caught every word, every doubt and concern rippling through the ranks of the tribe. He could feel eyes boring into him from all directions, some suspicious, others filled with questions they didn''t dare to ask aloud. Then, a sudden Ding! echoed in his mind, the unmistakable sound of the system''s notification. | Ding! A message flashed before his eyes: | Mission Completed. | You have found one of the traitors. | Rewards received: | High-level Boxing. | ¡ª | Name: Volk Mog''ger | Status: Hornless Orc Tribe Kaz''rogal (Current Year), and the Warlock Slayer. | Age: 18 | Level: Fifth Stage Mag''Durotan | Passive Ability: Radioactive Form (Duration: Nine Minutes) | Normal Abilities: | - Radioactive Absorption. | - Basic Mastery of Axe Handling. | - High-level Boxing. | S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The words filled Volk''s vision, but along with them came a sense of clarity. The haze that had clouded his mind ever since the march were lifted, leaving him feeling more aware, more focused than ever before. His body tingled with an unknown energy, as if his muscles were now perfectly tuned, ready to unleash powerful strikes. Volk flexed his hand into a fist, feeling the strength surge through his knuckles. He could almost feel himself punching through solid rock without even breaking a sweat. But before he could even revel in his new strength, another Ding! followed almost immediately, bringing with it a new wave of dread. | Ding! | New Mission: Expose all of the traitors with 3 star rating or higher without turning into Grum-gar form. | Traitor: 054. | Rewards: | 5 Star = Grandmaster-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | 4 Star = Master-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | 3 Star = Expert-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | 2 Star = Basic-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | 1 Star = Low-level Muay Thai Kickboxing. | Failure: Will be the annihilation of the Dreadmaw Clan. | Volk''s brow furrowed deeply. "What?!" It was like a heavy sledgehammer from heaven. This is heavy! "And Fifty-four?" he muttered under his breath. His mind began to go round and round as he processed the impossible task before him. How could there be so many traitors among the Dreadmaw Clan? His system had never given him such an overwhelming mission, rewards and failure before. Fifty-four traitors¡ªhow was he supposed to find and deal with all of them? As the silence stretched and Volk tried to grasp the weight of his mission, a loud, deep laugh erupted from Lak''Ran. "RUGAGHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The sound was booming, almost shaking the ground beneath Volk''s feet. Lak''Ran doubled over, clutching his belly as his laughter echoed through the air. "RUGAGHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The crowd fell silent, their attention drawn to the imposing figure of Lak''Ran Durghan. "Me? A traitor?" Lak''Ran said, his voice thick with mockery as he wiped a tear from his eye. "Labor Orc, you must have hit your head a little too hard in that last fight. Do you truly believe I would betray the Dreadmaw Clan? The very clan I''ve fought for, bled for, and protected for longer than you''ve been alive?" He shook his head, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "This is the most absurd accusation I''ve ever heard." Volk stood his ground, his muscles tense, watching Lak''Ran''s theatrics. The elder Orc''s laughter was filled with arrogance, and the crowd seemed to be caught between the absurdity of the accusation and the commanding presence of the accused. Lak''Ran smirked as he glanced around at the gathered tribe members. "Volk, you''re nothing more than a Labor Orc. You should have stayed among the ranks of your kind, used as nothing but cannon fodder to distract the Warlocks while the real warriors of the Dreadmaw Clan make their escape." He paused, his tone turning cold and derisive. "You were never meant for anything more than labor and death. So what makes you think you have the right to accuse me¡ªone of the Grum-gar elite¡ªof something as ridiculous as treason?" The crowd was silent now, waiting for Volk''s response. Lak''Ran''s words hung heavy in the air, full of contempt, and Volk could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Lak''Ran stepped forward, his towering form casting a long shadow over Volk. "Tell me, Labor Orc, what proof do you have of this outlandish claim? What evidence could someone like you possibly present to make anyone believe that I, Lak''Ran Durghan, am a traitor?" Volk clenched his fists, with his head working furiously. He knew that this was his moment¡ªhe had to be convincing. He took a deep breath, his voice steady despite the pressure. "I may be a Labor Orc, but we are known for one thing¡ªour sensitivity to hazardous magic particles. And right now, I can sense it all around you." A murmur ran through the crowd. Orcs and Elves exchanged looks, whispering to one another. What Volk had said wasn''t a lie. Labor Orcs were known for their heightened sensitivity to magic, specifically to dangerous, corrupt magic. It was what made them valuable in mines and places where magical residue could poison normal beings. But it was also what made them expendable in war¡ªeasy to sacrifice for being weak. "That''s ridiculous!" Lak''Ran spat, though there was a hint of unease in his voice. "Sensitivity to magic? That''s not enough evidence to accuse me of treason. You think your heightened senses make you some kind of truth-teller?" Volk narrowed his eyes. "It''s not just that. You carry something... something that feels wrong. It''s not just magic. It''s corrupted, tainted. And I''m not the only one who can feel it." This statement caused a stir among the crowd. More murmurs. More shifting. The eyes of many Orcs and Elves flicked toward Lak''Ran, their expressions no longer as certain as they had been just moments ago. Lak''Ran sneered, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Tainted? You think you''re special because you can sense a bit of magic in the air? That''s laughable." He spread his arms wide, as if daring anyone to step forward. "Go ahead! Call every Labor Orc in the camp! Let them all come and tell me if they feel this so-called corruption. But you''ll find nothing. You''re grasping at straws, Volk." Volk stared at him. His face felt hard. He could feel the tension building in the air. This was his moment¡ªif he faltered now, if he hesitated, Lak''Ran would slip through his fingers, and the traitors would continue to poison the tribe from within. He raised his chin, his voice firm and resolute. "Do it. Call them all. Let every Labor Orc who''s awakened the Grum-gar form come and tell us what they sense." The challenge was unexpected. The crowd watched in silence, their breaths held as they waited for Lak''Ran''s response. There was no backing down now. Lak''Ran''s sneer faltered for just a moment before he regained his composure, but the tension between the two Orcs was palpable. The dawn was still, save for the crackling of the nearby fires, casting long shadows over the waiting tribe. Chapter 72 - 72: Where is he? As the dawn dragged on and the atmosphere in the cold windy air continued to thicken, a murmur passed through the crowd as someone had gone to fetch the Labor Orcs who had awakened the Grum-gar form. In the stillness that followed, Lak''Ran''s booming voice cut through the quiet. "So, Volk," Lak''Ran began, his tone dripping with mockery, "you accuse me, Lak''Ran Durghan, of being a traitor? You stand here, trembling in your little boots, calling on the Labor Orcs to vouch for you?" He took a step forward, chest puffed out with arrogance. His eyes gleamed as if enjoying the spectacle. "You think I don''t have friends among the Labor Orcs? People who would stand beside me rather than listen to your ridiculous claims?" Lak''Ran paused, grinning as his eyes roved over the gathered crowd. "If I were really a traitor, tell me¡ªwho am I working with? The Warlocks? Oh, that''s rich! Let me guess, little Labor Orc, you believe that I''ve been sneaking around in the shadows, plotting with the Warlocks against our tribe, against our people?" Volk remained silent, his jaw clenched, waiting for Lak''Ran to finish his tirade. The crowd was watching, hanging on every word, their murmurs filling the gaps between Lak''Ran''s speeches. Lak''Ran''s eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "Or is it something else, little Labor Orc? Hmm? Maybe you''re trying to conspire against my son, Luk''Tar. Maybe you''re trying to get him kicked out of the tribe so you can have Solluha''r all to yourself?" The words cut through the air like a blade, and the crowd seemed to draw in a collective breath. Solluha''r stiffened at Volk''s side, with her eyes narrowing as she focused on Lak''Ran''s accusations. Volk felt his blood rising and becoming hot within him, but he kept his mouth shut, unwilling to give Lak''Ran the satisfaction of a reaction. Lak''Ran smirked, noticing Solluha''r''s discomfort. His eyes flicked toward her, and the smirk widened into a full, wicked grin. "Ah, I see her now," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "This is the Labor Orc you''ve chosen, Solluha''r? The one you''ve cast your lot with instead of my son? Can''t you see the deceit in his eyes? Can''t you see the plan he''s hatching? It''s obvious, isn''t it? He''s jealous of Luk''Tar. He wants to be the hero, the savior, and the lover all at once, doesn''t he?" Solluha''r shifted uneasily, her face carefully neutral, but Volk could sense her discomfort growing. Lak''Ran''s voice grew louder as he continued. "Oh, Solluha''r, have you forgotten the promises you made to Luk''Tar? Have you forgotten all those moments you shared with him? The bond, the future, the destiny that you two were supposed to have together?" His grin turned even more malicious, and his tone dripped with false concern. "And now you''ve just¡­ replaced him with this? A deceitful Labor Orc?" Lak''Ran''s eyes glittered as he leaned in closer, his voice becoming even more venomous. "If I were Luk''Tar, I''d have taken your purity long ago, before this traitor could ever lay his filthy hands on you. But here you are, standing by this¡­ this nothing of an Orc. How shameful." Volk''s eyes flared with rage. His fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white. He could see the discomfort growing in Solluha''r, the subtle flinch in her posture, the tension in her jaw. Before he could stop himself, Volk growled, with a sharp and extremely commanding voice he would shout, "ENOUGH!" Lak''Ran''s mocking laughter echoed once again, but before he could continue his verbal assault, a voice called out from behind the crowd. "Here is Vulnarran!" someone announced. The crowd parted slightly as a figure approached¡ªa Labor Orc, just like Volk, but there was something off about him. Vulnarran stood tall, his muscles rippling beneath his rough, scarred skin, but unlike most Labor Orcs, a dark aura seemed to cling to him. His eyes, though bright, held a strange shadow, something that made the hairs on the back of Volk''s neck stand on end. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s heart sank. He could feel it¡ªthere was something deeply wrong with Vulnarran. "Look at him," Lak''Ran said, waving a hand toward the approaching Labor Orc. "This is one of my friends, Volk. A Labor Orc, just like you. Are you going to tell me that he''s a traitor, too? I''m sure he could have told anyone if I was a traitor long ago, so what''s you say?" Volk''s gaze fixed on Vulnarran. His head began to spin as he tried to process what he was feeling and what he was seeing in his eyes. The dark aura surrounding Vulnarran was undeniable. The sensation was unmistakable¡ªit was the same corruption he had sensed around Lak''Ran. Suddenly, without thinking, Volk blurted out, "He is also a traitor." A gasp rippled through the crowd, louder this time. The gathered Orcs and Elves looked between Volk, Lak''Ran, and Vulnarran, confusion and alarm evident on their faces. Murmurs began to rise again, louder than before. "What did he say?" "Another traitor?" "Don''t tell me labor Orc is just making things up?" Lak''Ran threw his head back and laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "Volk, what''s your plan here? Are you going to accuse every Orc in this tribe of being a traitor? Are you going to start pointing fingers until no one is left? It''s pathetic." Volk stood firm, though doubt felt was digging at him from within. How could so many traitors exist in the tribe? The number was staggering¡ªfifty-four. It didn''t seem possible. Lak''Ran stepped closer, his face twisted into a sneer. "Why don''t you just return to the Labor Orcs where you belong, little Volk? You seem to be better at digging in the dirt than standing with warriors. Why not take your little accusations and crawl back into the holes we''ve dug for you?" But Volk''s thoughts were racing. Something Lak''Ran said struck a chord deep within him. His breath hitched as the realization crashed over him. His eyes widened as his mind raced through the recent days, the faces of those he had interacted with, and the one glaring absence among them. "Where is Lhum''Baggar?" Volk suddenly asked, his voice low but firm. Lak''Ran''s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to confirm Volk''s suspicions. The crowd, sensing the shift in the air, quieted down, waiting for what was to come next. "Where is Lhum''Baggar?" Volk repeated, his voice louder now, demanding an answer. "He was with us yesterday, in the catacombs. Where is he now?" Lak''Ran''s sneer slowly returned, but there was a new edge to it, something darker, more dangerous. "Lhum''Baggar?" he drawled, his voice thick with condescension. "You think he has something to do with this? Are you going to drag him into this absurd accusation of yours, too?" But Volk wasn''t backing down. His fists clenched, his jaw set, and his eyes burned with determination. "Tell me where he is." The crowd was on edge, their murmurs silenced as they waited for Lak''Ran''s next move. Everyone was watching, waiting to see what would happen next. Chapter 73 - 73: KORNUUM DRHAKAR Lak''Ran raised his hands, palms open wide, as if he were addressing a grand assembly. His voice boomed, commanding attention as it echoed across the crowd. "Ah, so this is where we''re headed, huh?" He began to pace slowly, his eyes scanning the gathered Orcs and Elves, his lips curling into a mocking smile. "We all knew this was coming. But let me lay it out clearly for everyone." He turned toward Volk, his sneer deepening. "At the end of the day, this little Labor Orc, Volk, just hates us. Maybe it''s because he feels inferior? Maybe it''s because, no matter how many crystals he digs up from the ground, no matter how many Grum-gar forms he awakens, he''ll never truly belong." The crowd was silent, their eyes darting between Lak''Ran and Volk, waiting for more. "And why? What drives this hatred of his?" Lak''Ran''s voice took on a taunting, almost playful edge. "I''ll tell you why. It''s simple. It''s because, deep down, Volk is jealous. Yes, jealous. You see, he knows that even now, even after everything, his wife¡ªSolluha''r¡ªstill carries Luk''Tar in her heart." Lak''Ran laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "Isn''t that right, Volk? That''s what eats you up inside, isn''t it? That''s what makes you want to get rid of us. You think you can erase Luk''Tar from her heart by accusing me¡ªaccusing us¡ªof being traitors?" The laughter continued, his voice booming over the quiet murmurs of the crowd. "Poor Volk, blinded by rage, driven by jealousy. He just can''t stand the fact that he''s second best!" Volk clenched his fists, feeling the weight of Lak''Ran''s words press down on him, but he stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Lak''Ran, burning with anger. The crowd began to whisper amongst themselves, their voices rising like the hum of distant bees. "Volk doesn''t have clear evidence," one Orc muttered. "Maybe Lak''Ran''s right," an Elf added. "What if Volk is just angry because of Luk''Tar?" "I don''t know," another voice chimed in, "Lak''Ran''s always been loyal to the clan. Why would he betray us now?" The whispers grew louder, swirling around Volk, filling his ears with doubt and suspicion. He could hear every word, every skeptical murmur that cast shadows on his claims. The weight of their doubt pressed on him, but Volk''s resolve didn''t waver. He couldn''t afford to let it. Lak''Ran grinned, reveling in the crowd''s uncertainty. "See?" he said, spreading his arms wide. "Even they can see it, Volk. Even they know the truth. You''re just a jealous fool, trying to bring us down because you can''t stand the thought of being second in Solluha''r''s heart!" S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But then Volk''s lips curled into a small, defiant smile. "Heh." He crossed his arms over his chest, his voice low but clear. "Or maybe, Lak''Ran, you silenced your own son¡ªLhum''Baggar¡ªbecause he found out you were the traitor." The words hit Lak''Ran like a blow. It was like a guillotine in his neck that landed from the high heavens. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of fury passing through his face before it was quickly masked. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as his voice rose into a furious roar. "LUK''TAAAAAAAAAR!" The name echoed across the clearing like a shockwave that everyone¡ªevery single Orcs and Elves that there could hear and feel in the little hairs of their skins, and within moments, a figure emerged from the crowd with a thud. Luk''Tar strode forward, tall and imposing, and his presence commanded immediate attention to everyone in the crowd. But Volk''s sharp eyes noticed it right away¡ªthe dark magic particles clinging to him like a shadow, just like Lak''Ran. Another traitor. Luk''Tar''s gaze bore into Volk, and he was filled with righteous fury. "Here I am again, Volk," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You only proved yourself right because you won the fight, surprising me with your Grum-gar form that was already in phase two. As an Orc who honors his tribe, I didn''t respond to your accusations because I clearly lost due to your surprise. "And now, you''re still unsatisfied. You accuse me, my father, and now my brother? "Lhum''Baggar sacrificed himself for this clan. He was willing to act as a decoy to lure the Warlocks away so the rest of us could escape. He was a hero, Volk. A hero! And now you stand here, accusing him of betrayal? Of all things?" Volk narrowed his eyes, his mind immediately came up with a reason to answer Luk''Tar''s claim. "Your brother," he said slowly, "awakened his Grum-gar form in its third phase. The clan would never sacrifice someone with that kind of talent. Not unless they were fools." A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, louder this time. Volk could hear them clearly. "He''s right," an Orc muttered. "A young one who''s reached phase three of Grum-gar? That''s rare. That kind of talent is valuable. Why would the tribe sacrifice someone like that?" Another voice added, "The clan would never send someone with so much potential to die as bait. Lhum''Baggar should have been with us." The murmurs grew louder, confusion and doubt spreading through the ranks as they questioned the story of Lhum''Baggar''s supposed sacrifice. Luk''Tar''s face twisted in anger, his eyes flashing with frustration. "You''re making this up, Volk!" he spat, taking a step closer. "You think you can just throw out accusations and twist the truth to fit your narrative?" He paused, his eyes narrowing as an idea seemed to take shape in his mind. "Fine. You want proof? Let''s settle this the old way, then. Hand-to-hand combat. No weapons, no magic. Just you and me. If you beat me, I will fetch my brother myself." The crowd fell silent, the tension in the air immediately went thick and palpable as they awaited Volk''s response. The challenge had been laid out, and there was no turning back now. Luk''Tar''s eyes gleamed with barely concealed malice as he raised his hand and shouted, "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" The words echoed in the stillness, and the meaning was clear. This was a challenge of honor¡ªa fight to settle the dispute once and for all. Volk met Luk''Tar''s gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew this was more than just a fight. It was a test of his convictions, a battle for the truth. If he lost, the traitors would remain hidden, and Lhum''Baggar''s fate would stay shrouded in darkness. But if he won¡­ perhaps he could finally expose the lies that had been woven around the clan for so long. The crowd shifted, forming a circle around the two Orcs. The murmurs of doubt and uncertainty fell silent as they waited for the inevitable clash. Volk flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of the challenge settle on his shoulders. He could sense the strength radiating from Luk''Tar, the darkness clinging to him like a second skin. But there was no turning back now. He would face this head-on, no matter the cost. Luk''Tar smirked, his confidence evident. "Let''s see if you''re truly as strong as you think you are, Volk. This time, I won''t be surprised¡­" Volk''s eyes narrowed, his fists tightening. The fight was about to begin. Chapter 74 - 74: High Level Boxing Luk''Tar''s voice echoed over the gathered crowd as he shouted again, "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!" His voice was full of raw energy, hate and desire for destruction as if meant to stir the Orcs and Elves alike, announcing the impending duel with fervor. The crowd was silent for a moment, making the tension in the air almost unbearable for everyone around. Then, as if to drive the point home, Luk''Tar shouted the challenge again, "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!" Volk stood his ground, his eyes locking with Solluha''r''s. Her face was calm, but in her eyes, he saw concern. He gave her a small nod, and she returned it, with her lips forming a tight line. She believed in him. "Fine! Let''s do this!" Volk''s voice rang out, steady and strong, signaling his acceptance of the challenge that Luk''Tar was offering. Lak''Ran stepped forward, patting his son''s shoulder. "Are you sure about this, Luk''Tar?" he asked, his tone almost paternal, though there was an undercurrent of something darker in his words. Luk''Tar smiled confidently, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "I''m sure, Father. Volk is strong with weapons and in his Grum-gar form, I''ll give him that. But in hand-to-hand combat? He''s weak. I''ve faced him before, and there''s no way he''s improved so much in such a short amount of time. This is going to be easy." After that, another glint appeared in his eyes, "Plus, we have that, I won''t lose even if it was a fight to death!" Volk, however, was pacing back and forth, his thoughts focused. Swish! Swish! Swish! He was punching the air, making a sound similar to that of a whip. He had no doubts now. His body felt different, lighter, more flexible and confident. The system''s gift¡ªhigh-level boxing¡ªhad already begun coursing through his muscles. He could feel it in the way his fists clenched, the way his body moved with newfound precision. Luk''Tar, noticing Volk''s movements, called out, "No weapons! We''ll fight barehanded. We need to save our weapons in case the Warlocks catch up to us. And no Grum-gar forms either! If you shift into your form, you lose!" Volk nodded in agreement, and without a word, he dropped the Axe of Dissection in front of Solluha''r. His armor followed, clattering to the ground as Solluha''r stepped forward, picking up the axe and the other bone armors she could carry. Luk''Tar''s expression twisted into a snarl when he saw that. He was furious, the sight of Solluha''r holding Volk''s weapon stoking something in him, but he quickly masked his anger with a mocking smile. "LET''S GO, VOLK! I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!" The crowd shifted, eyes glued to the two combatants, murmuring amongst themselves as the tension built. Lak''Ran watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, confident in his son''s victory. The fight began with Luk''Tar charging forward, his fists swinging with brutal force. Volk narrowly dodged the first punch, slipping to the side as Luk''Tar''s fist passed by him. The air whistled with the power behind Luk''Tar''s strike. Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! He was fast, stronger than most Orcs, but Volk felt something else. He felt¡­ calm. BANG! Volk''s fist connected with Luk''Tar''s ribs before he could recover from his missed punch. CRACCK! The impact was swift, solid, and precise. Luk''Tar gasped, stumbling back, surprised by the force. Luk''Tar gritted his teeth and charged again, this time more aggressively. He threw a barrage of punches, each one aimed at Volk''s face and chest, his movements quick and sharp. BANG! BANG! BANG! Volk dodged them all, slipping to the side, ducking low, his body moving fluidly as though he''d been fighting like this for years. Then, without warning, Volk''s right hand shot out in a lightning-fast jab. BANG! The punch slammed into Luk''Tar''s jaw, snapping his head to the side. The crowd gasped, murmurs rippling through the onlookers. "The Labor Orc was this strong?" "He was fast and can evade easily too?" Luk''Tar staggered, disoriented, wiping blood from his lip as he glared at Volk, with intense fury burning in his eyes. Luk''Tar couldn''t believe it. What''s going on? Volk wasn''t like this before. He''s faster¡ªstronger! Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He snarled, trying to push the thought aside. No matter. I''ll crush him still! Luk''Tar rushed again, but this time he tried to grapple Volk, aiming to use his larger size to overpower him. Swish! Volk shifted, using the momentum of Luk''Tar''s charge to throw him off balance. THUD! Luk''Tar hit the ground hard, gasping for breath. Volk loomed over him, and before Luk''Tar could react, Volk delivered a powerful punch to his stomach. BANG! Luk''Tar doubled over in pain, wheezing as the wind knocked out of him. Keeeesh! How is he this strong? They were in the same strength now, in Fifth Stage Mag''Durotan! Luk''Tar believed that he should have the upper hand! However, he was being beaten black and blue and no matter what he does, he cannot even touch Volk! He was never like this in the past! This can''t be Volk. Not the Volk I knew. He tried to push himself up, but Volk didn''t give him the chance. BANG! A right hook crashed into Luk''Tar''s cheek, sending him sprawling across the dirt. The crowd was silent now, stunned by the spectacle. They had expected a quick victory for Luk''Tar, but Volk was dominating the fight. Luk''Tar''s confidence began to waver. He couldn''t keep up. Every punch he threw was either dodged or blocked, and Volk''s counters were devastating, precise. He was getting beaten black and blue, and there was nothing he could do about it. Volk moved without a grace but he look fluid that was almost unnatural, every strike seemed deliberate, and every movement seemed calculated. Like he is not wasting his energy on unnecessary motions, and his fists¡­ his fists felt like iron. BANG! BANG! Two more punches landed squarely on Luk''Tar''s face, snapping his head back, and even making his nose spray a fountain of blood. The pain was overwhelming now, blinding him with every blow. How¡­ How did he get this strong? This fast? Luk''Tar''s mind began to whirl as he was punched left and right. His body was now screaming in agony, but he couldn''t stop. He wouldn''t allow himself to lose in front of everyone¡ªespecially not to Volk, a Labor Orc. But every time he tried to gather his strength, Volk was there, delivering another punishing blow. BANG! Luk''Tar''s body jerked with the impact of Volk''s punch, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out. His vision blurred, but through the haze, he could see the crowd watching, stunned into silence. Volk delivered one final punch, a solid uppercut that lifted Luk''Tar off his feet before he crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. The crowd was shocked. They had expected Luk''Tar to win easily, but now, Volk stood victorious, barely breaking a sweat, while Luk''Tar lay battered and broken on the ground. Volk wiped sweat from his brow, his breathing steady. The high-level boxing from the system had been more powerful than he ever imagined. He felt like he could take on an army with his bare hands. But something gnawed at the back of his mind. As Volk stood over Luk''Tar, victorious, he couldn''t help but feel that something was off. Luk''Tar had been beaten thoroughly, yet he hadn''t gone down. He was still conscious, still moving despite the severe beating. Why isn''t he going down? Volk''s eyes narrowed as he looked down at Luk''Tar''s bloodied form. Something wasn''t right, and he could feel it. There was something unnatural about how Luk''Tar kept standing up, even after receiving punches that should''ve left him unconscious. His head was clawing of possibilities why as he tried to piece it together. What is going on? Chapter 75 - 75: Cheating LukTar The crowd gathered around the two combatants was growing restless. The Orcs and Elves had expected the fight to be over by now, but something strange was happening. Luk''Tar should have gone down after the savage beating Volk had dealt him, yet there he stood, bruised, bloodied, but still upright. What is wrong with him? Is he really that tough? It felt unnatural in a way it''s abnormal for someone to be that tough! Volk was the first to notice something off. Every time he landed a solid punch on Luk''Tar, the dark magic particles that surrounded the young Orc would shift and swirl, like a protective barrier. They drifted toward the areas Volk struck, almost as if they were healing him, keeping him from collapsing. As Volk''s fist slammed into Luk''Tar''s ribs again with a resounding BANG!, he saw it. The dark magic particles, faint at first, began to swirl around Luk''Tar''s torso, as though drawn to the impact. Volk''s brow furrowed. What the hell is this? ''This bastard, he was doing something dirty! How do I expose him?'' He asked himself. It was very clear to him, all that he needed to do was expose and show it! The Orcs and Elves murmured among themselves, their whispers growing louder. "How is Luk''Tar still standing?" "Did you see that? Volk''s hitting him with everything he''s got, but it''s like¡­ it''s like nothing''s happening!" "Something''s not right. This isn''t normal." Volk heard them, their voices full of doubt, but his focus remained on Luk''Tar. Another punch connected with Luk''Tar''s face, making his head snap back violently. BANG! Still, Luk''Tar stood, blood pouring from his nose, eyes dark and menacing. What the hell is keeping him up? Should I do it? Volk wondered, his fists still clenched, and his breathing now changed, becoming more cautious than heavy. Suddenly, after taking another blow to his chest, Luk''Tar did something unexpected. He lunged forward and grabbed Volk in a tight embrace, with his bruised and battered body pressing against Volk''s. With his mouth inches from Volk''s ear, he whispered, "You will never beat me." Volk''s eyes widened at the words. The dark magic particles shifted more violently around Luk''Tar, and Volk could feel the sinister energy seeping from the young Orc. But Volk wasn''t about to let this cheap trick go unnoticed. He ducked swiftly under Luk''Tar''s grasp and slipped away, using the precise footwork he had received thanks to the system''s high-level boxing skill. His eyes narrowed as he distanced himself, and without hesitation, he shouted, "Luk''Tar, you''re cheating!" The crowd immediately erupted into a cacophony of murmurs and gasps, with their shock sounding palpable. "Cheating?" "What''s he talking about?" "I knew something was wrong!" "It''s clear! That dark magic around Luk''Tar! He''s using something!" Luk''Tar stood tall, his laughter a low, sinister sound that echoed across the clearing. "Heh!" he sneered, wiping the blood from his lips. "Your punches are mere tickles, Volk. And now you''re accusing me of cheating?" His voice dripped with contempt. "What kind of excuses are these now? Just because you can''t win? Pathetic." Luk''Tar stepped forward, taunting Volk with a slow, deliberate swagger. "Do you think that because you''re finally standing up like a real Orc that it makes you my equal? You''re nothing! You''ve always been nothing but a Labor Orc, a tool for the tribe! And now you dare accuse me of cheating?" The crowd shifted nervously, their eyes darting between the two Orcs. Some murmured in agreement with Luk''Tar, while others remained silent, clearly unsettled by the dark magic that swirled around him. Volk''s fists tightened, his jaw clenching in frustration. ''I needed to make a risk!'' He couldn''t argue with Luk''Tar''s arrogance¡ªhis taunts had the desired effect on the crowd. But Volk knew the truth, and he was determined to reveal it. "You are cheating," Volk said, his voice low but filled with conviction. ''I''ll do that now, if it costs me losing, then so be it!'' His eyes glanced toward Solluha''r, who stood just beyond the fight''s perimeter, her eyes focused on him. He gave her the briefest of nods, and without hesitation, Solluha''r understood. In one swift motion, Solluha''r hurled the Axe of Dissection toward Volk. SWOOSH! Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The heavy weapon cut through the air with deadly precision. Volk''s hand shot up, grabbing the axe mid-flight, its familiar weight settling into his grip like an extension of his arm. Luk''Tar''s eyes went wide, with his arrogant smirk fading into panic as he saw the gleaming blade of the axe. The crowd gasped collectively, their murmurs silencing for just a moment. "What the¡ª" Luk''Tar started to speak, but it was too late. In a single fluid motion, Volk swung the Axe of Dissection upward. The blade gleamed under the faint light as it sliced through the air. SWISH! The axe connected with Luk''Tar''s face, carving a vicious line from his chin to his brow. Blood sprayed from the wound as Luk''Tar staggered back, his hands flying to his face in a futile attempt to stem the flow. The crowd gasped in horror, many Orcs and Elves instinctively stepping back. Luk''Tar''s body wobbled for a moment, his legs shaking as though they could no longer support his weight. Then, with a sickening THUD, he collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. For a heartbeat, there was absolute silence. Volk stood over Luk''Tar, breathing heavily, his eyes blazing with satisfaction. He wiped the blood from the blade of the axe on his arm and spat at the ground near Luk''Tar''s body. "Cheating bastard," he muttered under his breath. Suddenly, Lak''Ran''s voice exploded from the crowd. "YOU DAMN LABOR OOOOORC!!" The bellow was filled with rage, and Volk could feel the anger radiating from the elder Orc. Lak''Ran pushed through the gathered onlookers, his eyes wide with fury as he rushed toward his son''s fallen body. His face contorted in a mix of shock and disbelief, his once calm demeanor completely shattered. "You filthy Labor Orc!" Lak''Ran''s voice cracked as he knelt beside Luk''Tar, whose chest still heaved with shallow breaths. He was alive, but barely. Blood smeared across Lak''Ran''s hands as he tried to cradle his son''s head. "You think you''ve won?" Lak''Ran snarled, his gaze snapping up to meet Volk''s. "You think this makes you strong? This doesn''t change a damn thing! You''ll never be more than a worthless Labor Orc!" Volk, gripping the Axe of Dissection tightly, met Lak''Ran''s gaze with unflinching resolve. "I don''t need your approval. You and your son are the traitors here. And now, everyone sees the truth." The crowd murmured again, this time louder. The evidence was undeniable. Luk''Tar should have gone down long ago, but the dark magic that surrounded him had kept him on his feet. Volk had exposed the treachery for all to see. Lak''Ran''s face twisted in rage, his hands trembling with the effort to contain his fury. But as much as he wanted to retaliate, he knew that the eyes of the tribe were on him. He was out of moves, for now. But the storm brewing behind Lak''Ran''s eyes promised this wasn''t over. Not by a long shot! Suddenly, his eyes glinted in a desperate and malevolent light! Chapter 76 - 76: Sign of Dark Elven Witches The silence following Luk''Tar''s fall was abruptly shattered by Lak''Ran''s furious bellow. "Seize him! He used a weapon! He defied the law of Duel! We must not accept that he cheated! Seize that damn Labor Ooooorc!!" His voice echoed across the clearing, filled with righteous anger, and furious growl as. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Instantly, all eyes turned toward Volk. The Orcs and Elves, stunned by the brutal fight, now seemed confused, their faces saying they were caught between Lak''Ran''s command and the truth of what had just unfolded. Volk stood tall, his chest heaving as he held the Axe of Dissection. "Ha!" "Ha!" "Ha!" He couldn''t help and exhale and inhale deep air as he felt it was too taxing to use the boxing moves. "I''m still not used to those moves!" He knew Lak''Ran would try to turn the tide against him. He could feel the tension in the air. But he wasn''t about to let that happen. He was prepared for ever since he decided to gamble! "Look at Luk''Tar''s body!" Volk shouted, pointing toward his fallen opponent. All heads swiveled toward Luk''Tar. His massive form lay motionless on the ground, blood still dripping from the gash across his face. For a moment, it seemed like the fight was over, but then, the air around Luk''Tar seemed to shift. A low growl rumbled from his chest, growing louder and more menacing with each passing second. Slowly, painfully, Luk''Tar''s body began to change. His muscles bulged, and his skin stretched taut over his expanding frame. His bones cracked and shifted, growing larger and more monstrous by the moment. The transformation was agonizingly slow, as if whatever dark magic had been woven into him was forcing the Grum-gar form out of him. His body doubled in size, then tripled, until he towered above the crowd like a nightmarish giant. His skin, normally a dark green, became mottled and twisted with veins of black magic. His eyes, once gleaming with rage, were now dull, filled with a savage hunger. And then, when his transformation was complete, Luk''Tar released a deafening, guttural ROOOOOOOAAAARRRRR! The ground trembled under the force of his roar, and the crowd shrank back in terror. Even the bravest warriors among them felt their knees weaken as the monstrous Luk''Tar took a step forward, his massive feet cracking the earth beneath him. But there was something else. Something is wrong. Definitely wrong. "Look!" one of the Elves in the crowd screamed, pointing toward Luk''Tar''s body. "The tattoos! They''re¡­ they''re not normal!" The crowd gasped as they saw it too. In his Grum-gar form, Luk''Tar''s skin was not smooth like a regular Orc''s. Instead, it was marked with strange, dark tattoos, like the twisted roots of a tree, snaking across his body. They pulsed with dark energy, glowing faintly in the dim light of the dawn. And for sure, some of them would obviously recognize those marks and what it signifies. "Those markings!" someone else shouted. "Those are the marks of the Dark Elven Witches!" Immediately, panic spread like wildfire to the whole crowd. They were running from the Red Elven Warlocks and now, there are Dark Elves Witches too? This is a nightmare for real! A nightmare for real! The name alone sent shivers down the spine of every Orc and Elf present. Dark Elves, the ancient enemies who wielded forbidden magic, the one who was hunting their whole race. Using elves blood to make their lifespan longer and enslaving the Hornless Orc tribe easily like a dog. To see their mark on Luk''Tar was a terrifying omen. They were infiltrated. "No! No, it can''t be!" "He''s been tainted! Corrupted by dark magic!" "What does this mean? Is the whole tribe compromised?" The panic grew louder and louder, and soon, chaos erupted. Orcs and Elves alike began shouting, pointing fingers, scrambling to understand what was happening. Some accused Lak''Ran of treachery, others feared that more of their kin were corrupted. The fear was palpable, and Volk could see it spreading like an infection. Volk knew he had to act fast. "Don''t let Lak''Ran escape!" he roared, hoping to regain control of the situation. But when the crowd turned to where Lak''Ran had stood just moments ago, he was nowhere to be found. "He''s gone!" someone shouted. "Where did he go?" Volk''s eyes darted across the gathering. Lak''Ran had slipped away like a shadow, vanishing amidst the chaos. The cunning old Orc had used the confusion to his advantage, disappearing before anyone had the chance to catch him. Volk cursed under his breath. ''That damn bastard, he got away!'' Meanwhile, Lak''Ran was weaving his way through the panicked crowd, his heart pounding in his chest. He had planned for this, prepared for the moment when everything would fall apart. He had always known his son''s transformation would cause a stir, but he hadn''t anticipated how quickly Volk would figure things out. Damn lowly Orcs¡­ Lak''Ran thought, gritting his teeth. ''You will all soon be slaves to my master! Damn Orcs, you will see! You all will see!'' But before he could savor his imagined victory, Lak''Ran''s body suddenly went rigid. A sharp pain shot through his spine, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as darkness clouded his vision. "You won''t escape," a voice growled from the shadows. Lak''Ran''s eyes darted around wildly, but he couldn''t see his attacker. He could feel a presence, someone close, but the world was spinning too fast for him to make sense of anything. His fingers clawed at the dirt as he tried to crawl away, but it was no use. His strength was gone.. He couldn''t get away! On the other side of the clearing, Volk felt his own body weakening. The strain of the fight, the dark magic in the air, and the energy he had spent had taken its toll. His limbs felt heavy, and his vision swam. But just as he was about to collapse, Solluha''r appeared at his side, catching him before he fell. "You did it, Volk," she whispered, her voice soothing amidst the chaos. "You exposed them." Volk leaned into her, exhaustion weighing him down. His mind was still spinning, trying to make sense of everything. "I¡­ I gambled," he muttered, more to himself than to Solluha''r. "Luk''Tar¡­ he gave the rules. No Grum-gar form. That''s how I found out. It was a gamble, but I had to try." Solluha''r looked at him, confusion in her eyes. "A gamble? What do you mean?" Volk shook his head. "I''m not sure. But¡­ It worked. For now." As Solluha''r helped him steady himself, Volk felt a strange sense of relief wash over him. The fight was over, but he knew this was only the beginning. There were still too many questions unanswered, too many loose ends. But just as he started to relax, his eyes widened in realization. The system. The words flashed in his mind, a sudden, jarring reminder. He had completed the first mission¡ªhe had found the traitor¡ªbut there was more. He remembered the notification. | Mission: | Explode all of the traitors¡­ 3/54. | His stomach twisted as the weight of the task ahead settled on him. Fifty-four traitors. Lak''Ran had escaped, and there were still many others lurking in the shadows that he needed to expose. Volk''s exhaustion deepened as he considered the enormity of what lay ahead. This was far from over. He needed to complete the system mission first or the whole Dreadmaw clan would be annihilated! Chapter 77 - 77: Failed Volk''s blood in his head began to slither through his brain to think carefully with a desperate fury as he tried to think of ways to expose the traitors hiding within the Dreadmaw Clan. Every second counted, and shouldering the weight of the clan''s survival was pressed down on Volk like a suffocating dust shroud. He took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of focus he had. The first plan that crossed his mind was simple: isolate and interrogate. He could round up anyone he suspected of betrayal and question them one by one. He could put them under intense pressure until they either broke or exposed themselves. The idea of using his newfound boxing skills to force answers out of them gave him a brief of force confidence. He imagined grabbing Luk''Tar by the collar and demanding the names of every traitor, breaking bone if necessary. But the reality of it all crushed the idea before it could take root. Volk shook his head, knowing it would be impossible to interrogate so many. Time wasn''t on their side. Even if there was no timing, he felt he had. He couldn''t afford to deal with one Orc at a time when the threat of annihilation loomed overhead. Moreover, brutal tactics might further divide the clan. Fear and mistrust would fester like an open wound, and soon they would tear each other apart even faster than the enemy could. Volk''s second plan involved magic. Surely there was some way to use it to expose the traitors. He thought about enlisting the few magic users in the clan. Maybe they could cast some kind of spell to reveal the truth. He entertained the notion of forcing Lak''Ran to undergo a magical trial, where any Dark Elf enchantments would be unveiled in front of the entire clan. But Volk knew deep down that magic wasn''t reliable in this situation. If the traitors had been working with the Dark Elves, they would likely know how to conceal themselves from such spells. Plus, the clan''s magic users didn''t fully trust him. Ever since he exposed Luk''Tar, suspicion had only grown between him and the rest of the tribe''s elite. And him, being a young blood Kaz''rogal would likely get ignored. It wouldn''t work, Volk thought, dismissing the idea with a heavy sigh. The third plan seemed more traditional: appeal to the tribal elders. . The Dreadmaw Clan had always respected its elders, who possessed the wisdom of ages. Maybe they would recognize something Volk hadn''t noticed, some subtle behavior or clue that would expose the traitors. But as the thought played out in his mind, he quickly realized the futility of it. Most of the elders had already gone missing or were too paralyzed by fear to act decisively. Those who remained lacked the strength or authority to impose order on the tribe. They had become figureheads, unable to control the chaos that now threatened to tear everything apart. The elders can''t help me. They can''t even help themselves. With each idea failing one after another, Volk felt a creeping sense of doom gnawing at his insides. He clenched his fists, angry with himself for not having a clear solution. There must be something I can do. Anything. Then, it hit him like a bolt of lightning¡ªthe Labor Orcs. Aren''t Labor Orcs supposed to be the first to sense danger? Volk''s pulse quickened as he remembered their keen ability to detect hazardous magic particles. If the Dark Elves had infiltrated the clan, they would have needed to take out the Labor Orcs first to prevent detection. His voice exploded with desperation, cutting through the air like a thunderclap. "THE LABOR ORCS! DON''T LET THEM GO! DON''T LET THEM GO!" The sudden urgency in Volk''s voice shook the tribe to its core. For a moment, there as a heavy silence blanketing the crowd. Then, as if a dam had burst, the Elves and Orcs sprang into action. They had been wary of each other, unsure of who to trust, but now they moved with purpose. Volk watched as the Labor Orcs began to rise. At first, there were only three. Then six. Then nine. His heart blood pumping quickened with hope as more of them stood. Twelve. Fifteen. Nineteen. But then... it stopped. His hope shattered like glass. Nineteen wasn''t enough. He needed at least thirty, maybe more, to expose the full scale of the conspiracy. Where are the rest? His heart sank into a pit of panic. Where are they hiding? They needed every last Labor Orc if they were going to survive this threat. As Volk''s eyes darted around the camp in a frenzy, a dark, mocking laugh rang through the air, cutting through his thoughts like a jagged blade. He turned and saw Lak''Ran, bound but grinning like a madman. "Looking for someone, little Labor Orc?" Lak''Ran sneered, his eyes gleaming with wicked glee. Volk''s teeth clenched, fury boiling within him. "What are you talking about?" Lak''Ran chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with malice. "You''re too late. They''ve already fled, you fool. The moment you mentioned Lhum''Baggar, we knew our time was up. Some of us ran. And your precious Luk''Tar? His only job was to distract you long enough for them to escape. Hahaha!" Volk''s blood ran cold. "No... no!" he stammered. He turned back to the crowd, his heart thudding in his chest. "Search for them! Find the Labor Orcs!" His voice cracked with desperation as he screamed. But Lak''Ran''s cruel voice sliced through the chaos once again, mocking him. "Give it up, little Labor Orc. Plus who are you to order them? You''re just a young blood Kaz''rogal! You''ve lost. All you did was waste time fighting Luk''Tar while the real threat slipped through your fingers." Volk felt a chill creep up his spine, but he forced himself to ignore it. "I won''t give up!" Lak''Ran cackled even louder. "Why not join us, little Labor Orc? You''re strong. We could use someone like you. Pledge your loyalty to the Dark Elven Witches. Together, we could wipe out these Red Warlocks. Imagine the power you''d have! Hahahaha!" The laughter echoed in Volk''s ears, threatening to drown him in doubt. His chest heaved as he tried to push the despair aside. He couldn''t let the clan fall. He couldn''t lose. Not like this. Not after everything. Suddenly, the Orcs pulled Lak''Ran away. Just then, a familiar chime echoed in his mind. A system notification appeared before his eyes, and the words cut into his soul like a blade. | Mission Failed. | Star = Basic-level Muay Thai Kickboxing received. | Dreadmaw Clan will experience annihilation in 7 hours. | Volk''s breath hitched. Mission failed? He stared blankly at the notification, unable to process it. The words felt foreign, distant, as if they weren''t meant for him. I failed? He looked up at the gathered Orcs and Elves, he could see their faces were blurred by his confusion and exhaustion. Their expressions were a chaotic blend of panic and fear, but Volk couldn''t focus on any of them. Failed. The word felt like it was imprinted in his mind, over and over, until it drowned out everything else. Lak''Ran''s laughter still rang in his ears, but Volk didn''t react. He couldn''t. He was numb. The Dreadmaw Clan was doomed, and he couldn''t help but feel it was all his fault. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 78 - 78: Little hope left Volk stood frozen, and his head was trying to dig deep to his brain on what to do as the system notification glared in front of his eyes: | Mission Failed. | Basic-level Muay Thai Kickboxing received. | Dreadmaw Clan will experience annihilation in 7 hours. | His heart thundered in his chest, and his breath came in ragged gasps. "No. "This cannot be it." Desperation clawed at his insides, threatening to explode inside him. "I will not die like this. "I will not let my people die like this!" His teeth ground together, and his hands balled into fists so tight that his knuckles turned white. "NO!" Volk roared, shaking the very air around him. The sound was primal, wild, as if something deep within him had finally broken free. "I will not let this happen!" His voice cracked, but he didn''t care. He couldn''t care. The ground trembled beneath his feet as his voice echoed through the clearing. "I WILL NOT DIE LIKE THIS!" The Elves and Orcs around him flinched at his outburst, their eyes wide with confusion and fear. But Volk was beyond reason now. His desperation was boiling over, and all he could think about was finding a way¡ªany way¡ªto turn the tide of fate. "FIND THOSE SPIES!" Volk screamed, his voice growing more frantic with each word. "WE CAN STILL ESCAPE!" His eyes darted wildly across the crowd, as if he could somehow will them into action with sheer force of will. "IF WE CAN''T ESCAPE, WE CAN FIGHT BACK!" He felt his throat burn as he screamed, but he didn''t stop. He couldn''t stop. "STAND UP! BE STRONG!" His voice cracked again, but the madness in his eyes only intensified. "STAND UP AND BE STRONG!" Every word, every scream felt like a desperate plea to the gods. But it wasn''t the gods he needed to convince¡ªit was these terrified, hopeless warriors around him. His people, his clan. The Elves and Orcs exchanged nervous glances, their bodies trembling with fear. The weight of Volk''s words was like an anchor pulling them deeper into despair. They all knew what he was saying was true. But even in the face of his desperate screams, their hearts sank lower and lower. How could they fight against the impossible? They had all heard the stories. The Red Elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches¡ªtwo opposing forces that used lesser races as pawns in their never-ending war. To them, the hornless Orc tribes and the Elves were nothing more than prizes, trophies to be claimed in their deadly sport. Whoever seized them first would be the victor. It was a game of power and conquest, and the Orcs and Elves were nothing but the spoils. Volk''s screams grew louder, more frenzied, as he paced back and forth, clutching his head as if trying to physically shake the desperation out of his mind. "WE HAVE TO FIGHT!" he bellowed. "WE CAN''T JUST SIT HERE AND WAIT TO DIE! WE HAVE TO¡ª" But his voice was swallowed by the weight of their hopelessness. One by one, the warriors around him began to crumble. Their faces were pale, their hands shaking. Even those who had once stood tall and proud now seemed weak, helpless, their spirits broken by the knowledge that no matter how strong they were, no matter how hard they fought, they could never win. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk saw the look in their eyes¡ªthe look of surrender. "No, no, no! This isn''t how it''s supposed to end!" His chest heaved with the effort of his screams, his throat raw and aching, but still he pushed on. "DON''T LET THEM GO!" His voice cracked again, his desperation bleeding into every word. "WE CAN DO THIS! WE CAN FIGHT BACK!" But even as the words left his lips, Volk could see the truth etched on their faces. They knew what was coming. They had heard the stories of the Red Elven Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches clashing in all-out war. They knew that the hornless Orc tribes were nothing more than collateral damage, a casualty of a war between rulers of different realms. Volk''s screams echoed across the clearing, but the Orcs and Elves stood motionless, frozen in fear. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat a reminder of the time slipping away. Suddenly, an Orc stepped forward and placed a hand on Volk''s shoulder. "Kaz''rogal," he said, his face etched with the deep lines of countless battles fought and lost, stared into Volk''s eyes with a mixture of pity and understanding. "Enough, little Kaz''rogal." Kaz''rogal''s voice was calm, steady. It cut through Volk''s rambling like a cold wind. "We understand." Volk shook his head, refusing to believe it. "No!" He jerked away from the elder''s grasp. "We can still fight! We can still¡ª" Kaz''rogal''s expression didn''t change, but there was something heavy in his gaze. "Kaz''rogal, listen to me. You know what happens when the Red Elven Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches clash." Volk froze, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Kaz''rogal continued, his voice barely a whisper now, but every word felt like a hammer blow to Volk''s soul. "Whenever those two armies clash, it''s all-out war. And we... we are nothing to them. We are but two percent of their pawns. We are insignificant in their eyes, Volk." His eyes clouded with sorrow as he spoke, the truth too heavy for him to bear. "They will kill each other, and they will kill us for sure. We are merely the consequences of their game of conquest. There is no escape." Volk''s lips trembled as he struggled to find words. How did it come to this? How had they fallen so far? "How did this happen?" Volk asked, his voice barely a whisper, his mind refusing to accept the grim reality. Kaz''rogal sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the knowledge he carried. "A dead Warlock is the reason. It''s not your fault, little Labor Orc." The elder''s voice was thick with sorrow. "If that Warlock had survived, he would have called for backup, too. But now... now, both sides are coming. And we are caught in the middle." Volk''s breath caught in his throat. A dead Warlock? The weight of the elder''s words crashed down on him, leaving him feeling utterly powerless. For a moment, Volk could hardly breathe. Had it really come to this? Just as the full weight of the situation began to crush him, another system notification appeared in his vision. The cold, emotionless text blinked before his eyes: | Ding! | Mission: Suggest an escape place. | Rewards: Survival of the few. | Failure: Complete Annihilation. | Volk''s eyes widened as he stared at the screen, his heart pounding so loudly he could barely hear his own thoughts. His entire body felt numb, his mind blank. An escape plan? His mind reeled as the words echoed in his head. He had no plan. No strategy. And now, he had mere hours before everything he had ever known was destroyed. As the notification faded from view, Volk''s legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees. His hands shook as he stared into the distance, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind. Is there a way out of this? Can I really save them? Volk''s chest tightened as the full weight of the mission sank in. Seven hours. That was all he had left. Chapter 79 - 79: Other Orc Clans Volk stood still, his eyes shut tightly, forcing his mind to focus. His breaths were ragged, and his body was trembling with the pressure of them all. He knew how his system worked¡ªhow it thrived on the reality of the situation, the choices made under extreme duress. If there was an escape, it would help him find it. "But where? "Where could we go?" His thoughts raced wildly, colliding in a chaotic jumble. His mind flashed through images of forests, valleys, mountains¡ªbut nothing seemed right. "The forest?" He considered it for a moment. The forest could provide cover, places to hide... But as soon as the thought formed, he dismissed it. No, they''re already in the forest. It wasn''t enough. The trees would only delay the inevitable. His brow furrowed as frustration gnawed at him. He had to think faster. "A place... "A place where we can survive¡­" But no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn''t find it. His breathing quickened, panic clawing at his chest. Think, Volk! Think! Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp chime in his mind: | Ding! | The host has ten seconds to suggest a location. | Volk''s eyes shot open in terror. "Ten seconds? " The blood that pumps his heart immediately quickened, his muscles tightening as if they were ready to explode from the pressure. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for anything, any hint of salvation. "Think, think, THINK!" And then it hit him¡ªZenveil. His mind flashed back to that fateful battle. The cold, damp air of the catacombs. The twisted shadows that had danced along the stone walls as he faced the three-headed beast. The catacombs beneath the battlefield. They were treacherous, yes, but they were also vast, a labyrinth of tunnels that had swallowed even Zenveil, a Warlock of immense power. If I could kill Zenveil there, then maybe¡ª Volk''s eyes snapped toward the elder Orc who had stopped him earlier. Before the elder could turn away, Volk surged forward and shouted, "Wait!" The Orc paused mid-step, turning slowly to face Volk. His expression was skeptical, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. The others, too, looked toward Volk, the faintest glimmer of hope in their weary eyes. "We could escape to the catacombs!" Volk''s voice was strong, his eyes wide with urgency. "The catacombs where I killed Zenveil!" For a moment, there was a stunned silence. The crowd of Orcs and Elves exchanged glances, their faces etched with disbelief. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the elder Orc threw his head back and laughed¡ªloud, hearty, and cruel. "Grahahhahahaha! "The catacombs?!" the elder roared, his laughter ringing out across the clearing. His large frame shook with each bellow. "You''re serious, young one? The most dangerous place in this land? The catacombs are a death trap! If we go there, we''ll be attacked from all sides! "After all, our powers would be supresswd there. The horrors that lurk in those depths would eat us alive before the Elven Warlocks or Witches even lay a finger on us!" The other Orcs and Elves began to murmur amongst themselves, and many nodded in agreement. The catacombs were a place of death too, a nightmare whispered among them. It was said that the dead roamed those tunnels, that dark spirits and worse called it their home. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. To enter the catacombs was to face certain doom. And yet, despite the elder''s mocking laughter, Volk stood firm. The elder shook his head and stepped closer to Volk, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You''re desperate, young one. I understand. We all are. But there''s no escaping this fate. The Red Elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches are closing in. It''s too late." "It''s not too late!" Volk snapped, shaking the elder''s hand off his shoulder. His eyes were wild, his voice desperate. "If we can make it to the catacombs, we can survive! The tunnels go on for miles. They''re deep¡ªtoo deep for the Elves to follow us easily. We can hide there, regroup. It''s our best chance!" The elder sighed, a mix of pity and frustration in his gaze. "Even if we go there, Volk, we''ll be attacked by the creatures that dwell within. You may have killed Zenveil, but you know as well as I do that the catacombs are far more dangerous than that one battle." Volk''s lips trembled, his mind racing for an argument, but before he could speak, the elder added, "Unless..." The elder paused, his words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. "Unless what?" Volk demanded, his heart pounding in his chest. But before the elder could finish his thought, a familiar voice cut through the air like a blade. "Volk completed the catacombs." The voice was sharp, commanding, and instantly recognizable. Volk''s heart skipped a beat as he turned to see her¡ªSolluha''r, her fierce eyes locking onto his. Her presence was like a storm, her aura radiating confidence and strength. "Volk gave me the magic crystal." Solluha''r continued, stepping forward with a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The elder''s eyes widened in surprise, his disbelief palpable. The crowd stirred, murmurs spreading like wildfire. A ripple of hope began to form as they processed Solluha''r''s words. If Volk had truly conquered the catacombs, maybe there was a way. Maybe, just maybe. ¡ª Away from the Dreadmaw Clan, far from the chaos and desperation that gripped Volk and his people, a very different scene unfolded. The entrance to the catacombs loomed before a group of fearsome warriors, its dark, gaping maw seemingly ready to swallow them whole. Standing proudly at the forefront were the Bloodfang Clan, their attire fierce and primal. Blood-red armor adorned their bodies, fashioned from the hides of beasts they had slain in battle. Their faces were painted with war symbols, and they carried large, serrated blades and axes, weapons known for tearing flesh from bone with ease. They were brutal, ruthless warriors, known for their savage tactics in battle. Next to them stood the Ironhide Clan, a stark contrast to the Bloodfangs. Their skin was as tough as stone, their armor thick and unyielding, made of iron plates fused to their very flesh. Their weapons were large hammers and maces, designed to crush their enemies into dust with a single blow. Wounds barely fazed them; their bodies were as unbreakable as the iron they were named after. Further back, the Thunderstrike Clan moved restlessly, their attire sleek and lightning-quick, matching their reputation for speed and agility. They wielded long, thin blades that crackled with electric energy, and they could strike down an opponent before they even knew what hit them. The Stonefist Clan stood like giants among the group, their muscles bulging beneath their armor. Massive brutes, each with fists capable of shattering stone, they wielded enormous clubs and warhammers, capable of breaking bones with a single strike. Their attire was simple but reinforced with plates of metal that protected their vital areas. From the shadows, the Shadowclaw Clan watched in silence, their black and grey attire blending seamlessly into the darkness. They were assassins, masters of stealth and subterfuge. Each carried thin, curved blades and throwing daggers, tools of silent death that struck without warning. Their eyes gleamed from beneath their hoods, always watching, always calculating. The Fireblood Clan exuded raw, burning energy. Their fiery tempers matched their affinity for flame magic, and their armor shimmered with heat. They wielded short swords and fire-enhanced gauntlets, dangerous in close quarters where they could ignite their enemies with a touch. And finally, the Frostbite Clan, cold and calculating. Their armor was pale blue and white, reflecting their icy demeanor. They wielded frost-forged blades that could freeze flesh on contact, and their bodies radiated an aura of chilling calm, even in the heat of battle. The leader of the Ironhide Clan grunted as he inspected the entrance to the catacombs, his voice a deep rumble. "Are they done?" The leader of the Bloodfang Clan stepped forward, his lips curling into a satisfied grin. His eyes glowed with a dark, dangerous light. "It''s done," he said, his voice dripping with malice. Chapter 80 - 80: Dreadmaw Clan, incoming The gathering at the entrance to the catacombs buzzed with the grim energy of impending battle. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Orc clans stood together in a loose formation, their tension barely hidden under forced bravado. They all knew what was coming, what fate awaited those who failed to hide or fight back against the relentless onslaught of Red Elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches. Yet, despite the looming danger, there was an undeniable camaraderie between the Orc tribes¡ªa mutual respect, though often laced with mockery. Suddenly, a voice rang out from the distance. "Wait!" The sound echoed across the gathering, halting all movement. The various Orc clans turned their heads as one, their eyes falling on the approach of the Dreadmaw Clan. Their numbers were fewer than the other tribes, and their heavy footsteps were slow, burdened with the weight of defeat and exhaustion. The once-proud hunters now looked disheveled, their armor dented, and their eyes filled with a sense of despair. They must have traveled fast and a lot. A murmur spread through the crowd. Then, laughter broke the tense silence. The leader of the Bloodfang Clan, a hulking Orc draped in red and black armor, barked out a laugh so loud it made the ground tremble beneath him. His yellowed tusks gleamed in the faint light as he slapped his thigh in mock amusement. "Look at this, boys!" he called to his clansmen. "Who would''ve thought the Dreadmaw Clan would make it this far? I thought they could only hunt fishes and wild animals. Seems like desperation sharpens even the dullest minds!" Another round of laughter erupted from the surrounding Orcs. The Ironhide Clan, known for their stoic demeanor, allowed themselves a rare chuckle, and even the normally silent Shadowclaw Clan let out a low snicker. The Thunderstrike Orcs, always quick with their wit, were the first to pile on. "Maybe they''ve finally started using their heads for more than just smashing rocks!" one of them quipped, prompting another wave of jeers. Volk''s face twitched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he held his tongue. ''Wait until the threat of Warlock and Dark elves is gone, I''ll smack you all at once!'' he mumbled. The Bloodfang Chieftain wasn''t done yet, though. His laughter died down, but a wicked grin remained on his face as he cast his eyes toward a particular figure in his ranks. "Hey, Grounad!" he shouted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Come over here, warrior! You''re our mightiest, a Kaz''rogal this year, aren''t you? Tell me, do you really think these weaklings defeated a Warlock? You don''t have to lie to us, you know. If you''re scared to be blamed, just tell the truth." Grounad stepped forward, his massive form towering even over the other Bloodfangs. His every movement seemed to exude raw strength, but there was no laughter in his eyes. Instead, there was a deep frown of confusion as he regarded the Dreadmaw Clan. His gaze settled on Volk, studying him intently. "Volk..." Grounad mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, but enough to break the atmosphere of laughter. Soon, the laughter around him did began to fade, replaced by murmurs of curiosity. Grounad''s reaction wasn''t what the others had expected. His usual bravado seemed dimmed, his confidence shaken by the sight of Volk and his clan. The Dreadmaw Clan continued their approach, their faces downcast, clearly worn from the run. The other Orc clans, though still mocking them, began to notice their condition. The Ironhide Clan stepped forward, their leader, with his iron-like skin, addressing them with a smirk. "Why so down, Dreadmaw?" he asked. "We''re all in the same boat. You''ll hide in the catacombs like the rest of us. As long as we suppress our mana and mend our forces, the Elves won''t find us. Once their war is over, we''ll come out, and you''ll still have your miserable lives!" The Orcs from the Thunderstrike Clan laughed heartily, with their voices cutting through the air like blades. They slapped each other on the back as though they didn''t have a care in the world. The other clans joined in, their laughter filling the air with a false sense of ease, as if they were invincible, unaffected by the horrors waiting for them beyond the catacombs. "It''s like a game to them," one of the Fireblood Clan Orcs muttered under his breath, his fiery eyes scanning the group of warriors. "They laugh as though the Warlocks and Witches aren''t hunting us like animals." Volk gritted his teeth. They had no idea what they were up against. The catacombs weren''t a sanctuary¡ªthey were a death trap. And the creatures lurking in its dark, cold corridors wouldn''t hesitate to tear apart anyone foolish enough to think they were safe. It was explained to him during the journey that once a catacomb was conquered, several new creatures would emerge from it. They could stay inside, but they would only need a few days to hide there. They could come out once the war was over because if they didn''t, they would be swept in an unknown direction. The only problem was the monsters inside the catacombs. The numbers are likely to be doubled. And they needed to defend themselves against them while inside hiding. Before Volk could delve deep to his own thoughts, a powerful, authoritative voice broke through the laughter, commanding immediate silence. "Bloodfang Clan, prepare to go inside the catacombs first!" It was the voice of the Bloodfang Chieftain, who had grown tired of the mockery. The other clans instantly straightened up, the jovial mood vanishing as the seriousness of the situation set in once more. The entrance to the catacombs loomed ahead like a gaping maw, dark and foreboding. It seemed to call out to them, promising safety while hiding its true dangers. The Bloodfang warriors moved to the front, preparing to enter first as ordered. But just as they were about to take their first steps into the shadowed abyss, another voice rang out, strong and filled with authority. "Wait." The voice belonged to the Chieftain of the Dreadmaw Clan, a large, powerful Orc whose presence demanded respect. . His muscles bulged beneath his armor, and his tusks gleamed with the fire of battle in his eyes. His stance was one of confidence, unshaken by the mockery or the impending danger. The other Orc clans turned to face him, their curiosity piqued. The Bloodfang Chieftain raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sneer. "What now, Dreadmaw? Changed your mind? Afraid of the dark?" The Dreadmaw Chieftain took a slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes locked on the Bloodfangs. His voice, though calm, carried a weight that silenced any lingering laughter. "You think the catacombs will save you," he said, his tone almost mocking. "You think hiding in there will keep you safe from the Dark Elves, from their war? You''re wrong. The catacombs are not the salvation you believe they are. They''re a graveyard. And if you enter without knowing the dangers, you''ll never come out again." A heavy silence settled over the gathering. The other clans, once filled with bravado, now looked at each other with uncertainty. The laughter immediately disappeared, replaced by the cold reality of the hairs on their shoulders. The Dreadmaw Chieftain''s words hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over their hopes of survival. The Bloodfang Chieftain narrowed his eyes, his sneer fading into a grim line. "Then what do you suggest, Dreadmaw? If not the catacombs, where? The Warlocks and Witches are closing in. We have no other options." The Dreadmaw Chieftain met his gaze, unflinching. "There are other ways to survive. But running blindly into the dark is not one of them. You''d do well to remember that." Volk felt a surge of pride and relief as his Chieftain spoke, standing tall against the mockery of the other clans. Perhaps there was still hope after all. As long as they had their wits and their strength, they could find a way to survive¡ªeven if it meant facing the horrors of the catacombs. The Bloodfang Chieftain hesitated for a moment, his pride warring with the reality of their situation. Then, with a reluctant nod, he turned to his warriors. "We''ll see about that, Dreadmaw. We''ll see." And with that, the Bloodfangs began to march into the catacombs, their footsteps echoing into the darkness. Chapter 81 - 81: Duel again? As the Bloodfang Clan moved toward the entrance of the catacombs, Grounad, the mightiest warrior of the Bloodfangs in their younger generation, paused. His massive frame loomed over the crowd, and his eyes narrowed as he shifted his gaze toward the Dreadmaw Clan. There was something simmering in his mind, something that was eating his head ever since the first mention of the catacombs. He finally spoke, with his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. "Hold on!" Grounad''s deep voice echoed across the gathered Orcs, halting their movements. "The Dreadmaw Clan¡ªthey''re not as weak as you think. Let us have a discussion first." This sudden proclamation sent a ripple through the other Orc clans. The murmurs started immediately, the confusion spreading like wildfire. The Thunderstrike Clan, known for their speed and agility, were the first to exchange looks of surprise. "The Dreadmaw?" one of them whispered, disbelief clear in his voice. "The hunter Orcs? They''re nothing but trackers and forest scouts. How could they possibly¡ªforget it! Just enter Bloodfangs! We still have a lot of preparation once inside!" The Fireblood Clan, always prone to heated tempers, interrupted the murmurings with their fiery skepticism. "Why do we need to care? And the hunter clan? Completing a dungeon? Are you joking? The Dreadmaws are better at hiding than fighting!" The Ironhide Clan leader snorted, his thick armor creaking as he shifted his weight. "They''ve barely survived out here as it is. If they''re trying to claim victory in a dungeon, they''re either lying or desperate. Which is it, young Bloodfang?" But Grounad, unwavering, stood tall. His eyes gleamed as he continued, "Yes. They completed the dungeon. Volk, their warrior, did it. The Dreadmaw Clan finished the dungeon, and we didn''t mean to keep quiet about it because of the looming threat of the Warlocks" The reaction was immediate. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The murmurs exploded into full-blown discussions, each clan now buzzing with disbelief. Orcs from every tribe began talking over one another, some in shock, others in outright denial. It was as if a secret had been spilled that no one could believe. The Stonefist Clan, known for their brute strength and straightforward attitudes, were visibly perplexed. One of their warriors, a massive brute named Kragnar, scratched his head and turned to his fellow clansmen. "The Dreadmaw? Completing a dungeon? That doesn''t make sense. They hunt beasts, not Warlocks. And Volk? I thought he was barely more than a hunter himself." The Shadowclaw Clan, silent and deadly as always, muttered in hushed tones from the shadows where they preferred to linger. One of their assassins, a wiry Orc with sharp eyes, whispered, "If they completed it, why didn''t they boast about it sooner? No Orc would pass up the chance to claim such a victory. It''s in our blood. What are they hiding?" The skepticism spread even further among the other Orcs, each clan sharing their doubts and disbelief. "That Labor Orc, of all people?" one of the Thunderstrike Clan Orcs said. "He doesn''t look like a warrior, not even a dungeon crawler. There''s no way he could''ve faced down the dangers of a dungeon. Not without help." But Grounad, unbothered by their disbelief, continued, "You heard me right. The Dreadmaw Clan completed the dungeon, and they''ve earned the right to be here just as much as any of us. In fact, more than that¡ªthey should have first access to the catacombs. They earned it." Another wave of shock rippled through the Orcs. The Bloodfang Clan, the fiercest and most battle-hardened of the tribes, exchanged incredulous glances. Their Chieftain, still standing near the entrance of the catacombs, frowned deeply. His pride, so carefully built over years of battle and victory, bristled at the thought of a lesser clan taking precedence over them. "First access?" the Bloodfang Chieftain scoffed. "You''re suggesting we let the Dreadmaw Clan go first? This isn''t some kind of charity! They''re hunters, trackers, nothing more. They don''t deserve to lead." Grounad''s gaze sharpened, and he squared his shoulders as he fixed his eyes on Volk. His voice was steady but laced with challenge. "But they did lead. Volk led them. And they survived the dungeon. It''s no longer about who deserves what. It''s about what they''ve earned." Volk''s heart raced as all eyes turned toward him. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, and he could feel the tension thickening in the air. He knew what was coming¡ªhe could sense it in the way Grounad looked at him, in the way the other clans muttered amongst themselves. This wasn''t going to end with words. Grounad took a deep breath, his massive chest rising and falling before he shouted, "As saying goes, it seems they don''t like it. However, how about let''s prove them? By settling this the old way, Volk? Let''s have a battle." Grounad''s eyes gleamed with ferocity, his voice rising to a near roar as he bellowed, "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" At the sound of those ancient words, the entire gathering of Orcs fell silent. Every clan¡ªBloodfang, Ironhide, Thunderstrike, Fireblood, Stonefist, Shadowclaw, and even the Dreadmaw¡ªfroze, their collective breath held as the challenge echoed through the clearing. Kornuum Drhakar¡ªthe sacred duel. A battle of honor and strength, where only one warrior could emerge victorious. It was a call that could not be ignored, a challenge that, once issued, had to be answered. The Thunderstrike Clan exchanged nervous glances, their agility and speed useless in such a sacred, brute-force contest. The Ironhide Clan, though tough as stone, remained stoic, knowing full well the gravity of the challenge. The Fireblood Clan muttered amongst themselves, their fiery tempers flaring at the idea of such a monumental event unfolding right in front of them. "Kornuum Drhakar?" one of the Stonefist Clan grumbled, his deep voice barely audible over the stunned silence. "This is serious now. This isn''t just about pride. This is a fight for dominance." The Shadowclaw Clan, ever the quiet observers, slunk further into the shadows, their whispers barely audible. "Grounad''s calling for blood. This isn''t just a scuffle. He means to prove who deserves to lead." Volk felt his muscles tense, his mind racing. The call to Kornuum Drhakar was no small thing¡ªit was a test of not just strength but will. A test of leadership. To refuse would be to dishonor himself and his entire clan. But to accept... to accept was to invite a fight that could either solidify his clan''s position or doom them all. He stepped forward, his heart pounding but his voice steady. "So, it seems not all Orcs are shameless like those around and the Bloodfang Clans are not one of them," he said. The other clans were speechless. "And you really want to settle this now, huh?" Volk''s eyes locked onto Grounad''s, and he could feel the eyes of every clan watching them. "Let''s go, then. KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!" The Orcs around them shifted, eyes wide, whispers turning into shocked exclamations. "A Kornuum Drhakar! Between the Dreadmaw and Bloodfang Clans?" "This is madness! Unknown Labor Orc named Volk against Grounad? Can the Labor Orc even survive?" "The hunter against the warrior¡ªthis will be a bloodbath!" The tension was palpable, the air thick with the anticipation of violence. All eyes were fixed on Volk and Grounad, one could see their forms looming over the others as they squared off. Both of them felt as though the world had shrunk down to just the two of them. But just as they prepared to clash, muscles tensed, and fists clenched, a voice screamed through the air, louder than either of them. "STOOOOOOOOP!" The shout tore through the gathered Orcs like a thunderclap, freezing both Volk and Grounad in their tracks. All eyes turned toward the source of the voice. Who was that? Chapter 82 - 82: Ground Bull The moment the voice echoed across the tense battlefield, all eyes turned toward the source, and to everyone''s surprise, it wasn''t a chieftain or a warrior stepping forward to halt the inevitable clash between Volk and Grounad. It was an elf¡ªa slender, fierce woman dressed in the sturdy armor of the Ironhide Clan. Her long, silver hair shimmered under the light, contrasting starkly with her dark eyes, filled with a storm of fury. "Are you all out of your damn minds?!" she shouted. Her hands trembled with anger, fists clenched tightly as she strode forward, pushing past Orcs who were easily three times her size. "Look at you! Brawling like common animals when the Warlocks and Dark Elves are breathing down our necks! This is madness!" The Orcs collectively flinched at her words, though more in irritation than guilt. Murmurs spread through the crowd, and the initial shock of seeing an elf command the attention of so many Orcs quickly turned to annoyance. But the elf was undeterred, her rage only building as she continued. "You''re so obsessed with your pride and your stupid honor! You brutes, you''ll kill each other before the real enemy even has a chance! While you''re all busy beating each other senseless, the Warlocks and Dark Elves will swoop in and finish you off like the brainless cattle you are!" She spat on the ground in disgust, her sharp gaze darting between the leaders of each clan. Volk and Grounad stood motionless for a moment, blinking as if they couldn''t quite believe what they were hearing. The rest of the Orcs, however, were far less restrained. A low rumble of anger spread through the crowd, and several Orcs bared their teeth, their fists clenched at their sides. One of the Fireblood Clan Orcs, a burly warrior with a scar running down his cheek, growled under his breath, "Who does this elf think she is? Talking to us like that. We''re in the middle of a Kornuum Drhakar! It''s sacred!" The Stonefist Clan, ever known for their brutish strength and stubbornness, were even less kind. One of their warriors, a massive Orc with arms like tree trunks, grunted, "Shut your mouth, elf! This is Orc business! Kornuum Drhakar cannot be stopped by the likes of you! Go back to your trees!" The anger in the crowd grew, and several Orcs shouted their agreement, voices rising into a cacophony of jeers. "Go back to the forest, elf! This is sacred!" "Do not meddle in Orc traditions!" "Who gave you the right to speak here?!" The elf''s lips curled into a sneer, and her eyes were obviously blazing with fury as the Orcs hurled their insults at her. But before she could retort, a deep, booming voice cut through the noise, silencing the crowd in an instant. "Enough!" It was the Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan, a towering figure with skin as tough and scarred as the iron for which his clan was named. His voice was like the grind of stone on metal, and when he spoke, even the most defiant Orcs lowered their heads, their anger tempered by his sheer presence. The chieftain stepped forward, his gaze locking onto the elf. There was a moment of tension, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them before he spoke again, this time softer, though no less commanding. "She is right." The Orcs exploded with outrage. "What?" one from the Bloodfang Clan spat, his voice filled with disbelief. "Right about what?! This is Kornuum Drhakar!" Others from the Thunderstrike Clan and Shadowclaw Clan joined in, their disbelief turning into curses and shouted objections. "She knows nothing of our ways!" cried a warrior from the Stonefist Clan. "What do you mean she''s right?!" "She''s not even one of us!" an Orc from the Fireblood Clan snarled, his hand inching toward the hilt of his blade. The chieftain raised his hand, silencing them once more. His eyes, deep and unreadable, scanned the crowd before he continued. "She is my wife and she is right about one thing. The Warlocks and Dark Elves are hunting us as we speak. And a battle between two warriors of the fifth Mag''Durotan will be long, drawn out." His voice was low but firm, each word a stone dropped into the collective anger of the crowd. "The Warlocks will not wait for this sacred duel to end. And while we may hold our traditions dear, we cannot ignore the danger at our gates. A battle like this¡­ could cost us time we do not have." S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Orcs grumbled in discontent, but the chieftain''s words carried weight, and they knew it. Still, the anger did not dissipate easily, and many continued to cast dark glares toward the elf. The chieftain turned back to the crowd, his face stern. "But the elf is not entirely correct, either. Our traditions matter. Kornuum Drhakar cannot be stopped, and we will not let anyone disrespect what is sacred to us. But there is another way. A way that both honors our traditions and saves time." The Orcs waited, confused. The Ironhide Chieftain glanced around before letting out a sharp whistle. Woyowiiiiiiit! Moments later, the ground trembled slightly as something massive approached. The crowd parted as a gigantic beast appeared¡ªa Ground Bull, its thick hide like stone and its eyes burning with primal strength. The massive beast snorted, shaking the earth with each step. "This is Tomorrowhawk, my Ground Bull." The chieftain spoke with pride, his voice booming as he laid a hand on the beast''s thick, scarred hide. "It took me three years to tame this beast. Three years of breaking bones, of bruises, of near-death experiences. Tomorrowhawk was not easily broken. But now, he stands here, my most trusted companion in battle. "His hide is tougher than iron, his strength unmatched by any creature in the wild. He has trampled entire battalions under his feet, leaving nothing but devastation in his wake." The Orcs watched in awe as Tomorrowhawk snorted, stomping the ground impatiently. "But his true strength is not in his size or his power. No. It''s in his instincts. Tomorrowhawk senses weakness like no other. "He can find the weakest member of any group and strike them down without mercy. That is how he has survived every battle, how he has won every fight. He always targets the weakest first." The Orcs stared at the beast with a mixture of admiration and trepidation. They knew the strength of Ground Bulls, but to see one this massive, this disciplined¡ªit was awe-inspiring. The chieftain smiled darkly. "So, how about we let Tomorrowhawk decide? Instead of dragging out a long, drawn-out battle between Volk and Grounad, we''ll let my Ground Bull choose the victor. "Whoever Tomorrowhawk attacks first¡ªhe is the weakest. He is the one who loses." The Orcs murmured among themselves, the proposal shocking and unexpected. But as they glanced at Tomorrowhawk''s massive form, some began to nod in agreement. It was a fair alternative¡ªone that would save time and blood. Volk, his face still tense from the challenge, looked at the Ground Bull and then at Grounad. Suddenly, a new mission would occur. Ding! | Mission: Win the contest. | Reward: Unknown. | Failure: Complete annihilation of the Dreadmaw Clan elves! | He froze, a mission? Volk had a terrible feeling of wasting time, so after he failed the last mission and thought for a moment, he immediately stepped forward. His voice was steady, though his heart was thumping heavily. "Alright. Let''s do it. Let that beefcake decide." Grounad''s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting Volk to agree so quickly. For a moment, he hesitated, as if his pride were warring with the practicality of the situation. But eventually, he too nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Fine. Let''s see who Tomorrowhawk finds worthy." The chieftain of the Ironhide Clan grinned, clearly pleased with the outcome. He turned to the crowd and raised his arms. "Since both warriors have agreed, then let it be so! Tomorrowhawk will decide!" After that, he tapped the butt of the bull and said, "Yip! Yip!" Chapter 83 - 83: Got it! At the back of the Dreadmaw Clan, a raucous laughter erupted from a small group of Orcs, led by Grashk and Grok''Thar, Volk''s catacomb last time companions. They stood tall, arms crossed, with wide grins plastered across their scarred faces as they eyed the massive Ground Bull stomping its hooves in the dirt. "Look at that poor bull," Grashk chortled, his deep voice carrying over the murmurs of the gathered Orcs. "Doesn''t stand a chance against Volk! It''s like sending a rabbit to fight a mountain!" "Aye!" Grok''Thar boomed in agreement, slapping his thick thigh with a resounding smack. "Volk''s the strongest there is! This is a waste of time. Grounad''s just delaying the inevitable!" The other Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan burst into hearty laughter, their confidence in Volk unshakable. They knew something the other Orcs didn''t¡ªa secret advantage that had saved their lives countless times before. Beasts, whether inside the cursed catacombs or roaming the wilds, instinctively avoided Volk. The beasts in the catacombs fear him because they think of him as a more terrifying creature due to his ability to carry hazardous magic particles within his body. Yes! His dense, hazardous aura as a Labor Orc makes him something unnatural¡ªsomething that even the most ferocious creatures fear to touch. Whether they see him as dirty or stronger, the result is the same: both are scared of him. Grashk leaned forward, smirking, as he called out, "Hey Grounad! You better start praying to whatever gods you believe in! Volk''s gonna send that bull running with its tail between its legs, and you''re gonna be left in the dust!" "You''re wasting your time, Grounad!" Grok''Thar chimed in, his voice dripping with mockery. "Volk''s been in the catacombs! He''s fought things in there that would tear that bull apart without breaking a sweat! He ain''t scared of some oversized cow!" The cheers and taunts echoed louder, carried by the wind to the other Orc clans. The warriors of the Bloodfang, Fireblood, and Thunderstrike Clans turned their heads, watching the Dreadmaw Orcs with skeptical frowns. They couldn''t help but wonder where this surge of confidence came from. One of the warriors from the Thunderstrike Clan, known for their sharp tongues, muttered to his companion, "Are they serious? That Labor Orc? I thought he was just lucky to survive. Now they''re saying he''s some kind of beast whisperer?" "Luck or not," his companion growled, his eyes narrowing, "no one messes with the Ground Bull. Grounad has this in the bag. I don''t care how confident those Dreadmaw Orcs sound. That Labor Orc Volk doesn''t stand a chance against Grounad or that beast." Back among the Dreadmaw Clan, Grashk grinned widely, his voice dripping with arrogance. "They have no idea, Grok''Thar. They don''t know what we''ve seen. That Warthog back then? Stopped dead in its tracks because of Volk''s aura. These outsiders can mock all they want. We know the truth." "Aye," Grok''Thar nodded, crossing his thick arms over his chest. "Volk ain''t just strong. He''s got that strange¡­ air about him. Animals know he''s dangerous, but they don''t see him as a threat they can fight. That''s why they back off. Even this bull''s gonna know better than to mess with him. But let them keep doubting. They''ll see soon enough." The other Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan joined in, shouting more taunts and encouragement to Volk, their boisterous voices carrying far and wide across the field. Amid the clamor, the Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan raised his hand, calling for silence. His deep, rumbling voice cut through the noise, commanding attention as he began to speak. "You may wonder why I called for this test," he began, pacing slowly before the gathered clans, his thick arms clasped behind his back. "The Catacomb is no simple place to lead Orcs into. It is a realm of death, where only the strongest beasts survive. When a catacomb is conquered, the creatures within do not simply vanish. "They remain, and new creatures will emerge, battling each other until one becomes dominant¡ªuntil one species claims the title of apex predator. And what happens then? They are sent to another dimension. "So when we enter, we will face those threats. That''s why we need the strongest to lead us through it." He paused, letting his words sink in as the Orcs nodded in agreement. They had all heard stories of the Catacombs, some even having ventured in themselves. They knew the dangers all too well. The chieftain continued, his voice low and steady. "The rules are simple: neither Volk nor Grounad must be attacked by the Ground Bull. They can do whatever they wish to avoid the bull''s wrath¡ªscare it, demen on it, or outwit it. But the one who is attacked first is the one who loses. "This test will decide who among them is truly the strongest and who is fit to lead us." The Ground Bull, snorting impatiently, pawed at the ground with its massive hooves. Its nostrils flared as it lowered its head, horns gleaming in the light. The tension in the air thickened as the beast prepared to charge, its muscles coiling like a spring ready to release. At the back of the crowd, Grashk and Grok''Thar exchanged knowing smirks. "That bull doesn''t know what it''s up against," Grashk muttered under his breath. "Volk''s gonna make this look easy." But the other clans remained skeptical, eyeing the Ground Bull''s intimidating size and strength with apprehension. One of the warriors from the Fireblood Clan spoke up, his voice filled with doubt, "Are they really so confident in that Labor Orc? The bull looks like it could crush him without even trying." Another Orc from the Shadowclaw Clan added, "I don''t know what they''re thinking. This test is insane. But it was a fight, Grounad''s gonna tear Volk apart if the bull doesn''t get him first." Despite their doubts, the air buzzed with anticipation. All eyes turned back to the two Orcs standing in the arena. Volk and Grounad both stood ready, their muscles tense, eyes locked on the Ground Bull that now scraped its hooves against the dirt, preparing for its charge. The Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan stepped forward, his gaze shifting between the two warriors. His voice rang out, clear and authoritative. "Volk! Grounad! Are you both ready?" Both Orcs nodded, their jaws set in determination. The tension crackled between them like lightning before a storm. The chieftain raised his arm high, the signal ready to be given. "Then on my mark¡­" His voice dropped to a low growl as the Ground Bull snorted, its eyes fixed on the two Orcs. "Go!" he roared, swinging his arm down. The Ground Bull let out a thunderous bellow, and with a sudden burst of speed, it charged forward, the earth trembling beneath its massive hooves. The beast''s eyes were wild, searching, ready to choose its first target. At that moment, the crowd held its breath, waiting for the Ground Bull''s decision¡ªwaiting to see who would emerge victorious and who would face the beast''s wrath. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Would it be Volk, with his strange aura that had saved them before? Or would it be Grounad, the fierce warrior who stood unflinching in the face of danger? The answer lay in the charge of the beast, and in the silence that followed its thunderous rumbling steps. Chapter 84 - 84: Bloodfang Clan Ability The air in the made up arena of crowded Orcs and Elves was thick with tension as the massive Ground Bull snorted, its breath coming out in heavy puffs of steam. Its massive hooves dug into the dirt, ready to charge. Suddenly, Volk took a deep breath, his muscles tightening, and with a swift motion, he stomped his feet against the ground. BANG! The sound echoed like a thunderclap, silencing the murmurs of the gathered Orcs. The Ground Bull, towering and ferocious beasts just moments before, suddenly froze in place. Its eyes locked onto Volk, but something had changed. For the first time, the beast looked¡­ afraid? A collective gasp swept through the Orc clans. "What the hell?!" an Orc from the Thunderstrike Clan exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief. "Did that bull just¡­ stop?" "Is it scared of him?" another one from the Bloodfang Clan muttered, his brow furrowed. "No way, how could a Labor Orc do that? He didn''t even use an ability!" The Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan narrowed his eyes, watching intently as the scene unfolded. Even he had not expected this. "This can''t be right," he muttered under his breath. His gaze shifted from the bull to Volk, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his usually stoic face. "How can a simple stomp from a Labor Orc cause the Ground Bull to hesitate?" The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, Orcs from all the clans looking at each other with wide eyes, trying to make sense of what they were witnessing. The Dreadmaw Clan, previously mocked and belittled, now stood with newfound confidence. Grashk grinned, his tusks gleaming in the dim light. "Told ya," he said, nudging Grok''Thar in the ribs. "That bull knows what''s good for it. Volk''s got something special about him. Always has." "He didn''t even break a sweat," Grok''Thar added, chuckling. "This is gonna be over before it even starts. Grounad''s got nothing on Volk!" From across the field, the other Orc clans watched with growing disbelief. An Orc from the Stonefist Clan crossed his arms, his voice filled with skepticism. "A Labor Orc? Really? That beast''s afraid of a Labor Orc?" "Impossible," a warrior from the Fireblood Clan muttered. "Volk didn''t even use magic or power. It was just¡­ a stomp." The Ironhide Chieftain, still taken aback by what had happened, tried to maintain his composure. "The bull''s probably confused, that''s all," he reasoned quietly to himself. But deep inside, even he was starting to doubt. This was no ordinary Orc standing before them, and now the entire arena could feel it. The bull, however, wasn''t done. Despite its fear, it seemed to shake off its hesitation and turned its massive head toward Grounad. The beast''s nostrils flared as if realizing it didn''t need to confront Volk after all. Its eyes locked onto Grounad, and with a furious snort, it began to shift its weight, ready to charge. "Wait, what''s happening?" one of the warriors from the Thunderstrike Clan asked, his voice barely containing his surprise. "The bull''s turning away from Volk¡­ Is Grounad really the weaker one?" "No way," an Orc from the Bloodfang Clan scoffed. "Grounad''s a Kaz''rogal! One of our mightiest warriors! There''s no way that bull''s choosing him over some Labor Orc. This doesn''t make any sense!" The murmurs grew louder, the shock spreading like wildfire through the crowd. "Did you see that?" one Orc whispered to his companion. "The bull looked scared of Volk¡­ and now it''s going for Grounad? Does that mean¡­ Volk is stronger?" Another Orc, this time from the Shadowclaw Clan, muttered, "Grounad''s not weaker¡­ is he?" Grounad, for his part, felt all eyes were on him. His heart thrump fast as the bull turned in his direction. He had never imagined that Volk could be stronger than him¡ªVolk, the Labor Orc. This was supposed to be a simple challenge, an opportunity to prove his dominance over the Dreadmaw Clan once and for all. But now¡­ now it felt like everything was slipping out of his control. With no other choice, Grounad clenched his fists. His eyes burned with determination. "I won''t lose to a Labor Orc," he growled under his breath. And then, with a swift motion, Grounad activated his Bloodfang ability. The temperature around him shifted dramatically, the air growing cold and then sweltering hot in an instant. His skin seemed to glow with an inner heat as the blood within him surged, giving him a terrifying, otherworldly presence. His muscles bulged, and the very earth beneath him seemed to tremble with his raw power. The crowd fell silent for a moment, then erupted into murmurs once again. "The Bloodfang ability¡­" one Orc whispered. "He''s changing the temperature of his own blood. He''s manipulating it to make himself more imposing." "That''s what makes the Bloodfang Clan so dangerous," another Orc muttered. "They can control their blood, make themselves more intimidating, more powerful. It''s like their very presence can crush you." "Look at Grounad now," an Elf from the Dreadmaw Clan observed, her voice dripping with disdain. "He thinks that pressure will scare Volk. But he doesn''t understand, does he? That bull isn''t going to stop just because he looks scarier now." Even Volk could feel the shift in the air. As much as he hated to admit it, Grounad''s new form was far more intimidating. The temperature changed, the pressure¡ªit was like standing next to a furnace that was ready to explode. But Volk wasn''t about to back down. Not now. The Ground Bull, however, seemed to reconsider. Its eyes flickered back to Volk, torn between fear and duty. It was clear the bull didn''t want to face Volk, but with Grounad standing there, pulsing with power, the beast had no choice. It snorted loudly and turned back toward Volk. The crowd erupted into laughter. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Look at that!" a warrior from the Frostbite Clan shouted. "The bull''s going back for Volk! It knows Grounad''s stronger!" "The Labor Orc''s in over his head," another Orc yelled. "He doesn''t belong here! This isn''t a task for someone like him. He should be out breaking rocks, not trying to lead warriors!" The taunts grew louder and louder, with Orcs from nearly every clan mocking Volk. "He thought he could scare the bull with a little stomp, huh? Look at him now! He''s gonna get flattened!" "A Labor Orc trying to act like a leader," one of the Elves sneered. "This is why the Dreadmaw Clan is a joke. They''re nothing compared to the rest of us." Amid the cacophony of jeers and insults, the Chieftain of the Ironhide Clan stood silently, his arms crossed over his broad chest. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had seen this coming. Although he was surprised that his Tomorrowhawk Bull was scared of Volk at first, he knew this would end like this. He had arranged this entire challenge knowing exactly how it would play out. The Dreadmaw Clan was a nuisance, a group he had long since lost respect for. By letting them take this test, he was certain they would fail¡ªand in doing so, lose whatever little standing they had left. Volk glanced over at the Ironhide Chieftain, his sharp eyes reading the subtle smirk on the man''s face. He wasn''t a fool¡ªhe knew this was all a setup, a ploy to embarrass him and his clan. But Volk wasn''t about to give in. He was stronger than that. He''d survived worse. He locked eyes with the chieftain and asked, "The goal was to see who would get hit first, right?" The Ironhide Chieftain''s smirk deepened. "Yes, that''s right," he replied, his voice smooth and calculated. Volk''s gaze hardened. He turned back to the bull, his resolve firm. "So be it." Chapter 85 - 85: Charging Beef The entire crowd fell silent, watching Volk with intense curiosity. His every move seemed calculated, each step taken with purpose, yet there was still a question looming in everyone''s minds: What was he going to do now? What can he do now? Is he gonna make it? Or he can complain? Volk''s expression remained calm, now his eyes were glancing a little between the massive Tomorrowhawk bull and Grounad. Then, almost as if a spark had ignited in his mind, he remembered something from the head of the body he occupied¡ªa core trait of the Dreadmaw Clan, the very essence of their unique abilities. The Dreadmaw Clan''s innate gift was infamous, albeit in a strange and often underestimated way. While many Orc clans boasted powerful combat techniques, unrivaled strength, or mystical abilities, the Dreadmaw Clan had developed something entirely different. Their ability, passed down through generations, was tied to their role as hunters. The Dreadmaw Orcs could taste food and instantly determine if it was safe. This wasn''t some trivial skill for a weak-stomached Orc¡ªit was a survival trait, a gift that allowed them to forage through dangerous, poison-ridden lands and find nourishment where others would starve. Volk''s jaw clenched. ''That ability is useless now,'' he muttered. ''But knowing that I could use an ability means I have something like that in me. It''s not from the clan; it''s from my beloved... system,'' he added confidently. Cracking his neck, Volk would hear his surrounding murmurs. "What? Is he going to taste the bull?" an Orc from the Fireblood Clan sneered, laughing heartily. "Does he think his fancy jaw is going to save him now?" "Right!" another Orc from the Thunderstrike Clan added. "What''s he gonna do? Take a bite and decide if the bull is safe to eat or not? HA!" The crowd burst into laughter, the mocking voices coming from all corners. Orcs jeered and pointed, unable to fathom how Volk''s clan''s ability could be of any use in a situation like this. "Maybe he''ll offer the bull a snack," an Elf from the Bloodfang Clan scoffed, and she was crossing her arms as if she was looking down at Volk. "After all, they''re known for hunting, not fighting! This is just pathetic." Despite the insults being hurled his way, Volk''s expression didn''t change. He had long grown used to these taunts. The Dreadmaw Clan had always been seen as odd by the other Orc clans. Their abilities were essential for hunting and survival, but in the eyes of the battle-hardened Orc warriors, it was seen as a weakness. But they didn''t understand. Suddenly, Volk''s muscles tensed as his body started to emit a faint, eerie glow. His radioactive particles began to stir, his energy spiking. His plan had always been to rely on his Radioactive form, an ability that had allowed him to command respect from beasts, avoid attacks, and take down even the most formidable foes. But just as he was about to fully transform, the Ironhide Chieftain''s voice rang out, loud and sharp. "Turning into your Grum-gar form is forbidden!" the chieftain declared with authority. "If you do, you''ll be declared the loser!" Volk''s brow furrowed in frustration as he glanced over at the Ironhide Chieftain. The man''s smug face was almost unbearable. He was clearly manipulating the rules, setting Volk up for failure. The chieftain''s eyes held a mocking gleam, and Volk could feel the weight of this setup pressing down on him. Grounad, standing tall beside the bull, grinned ever so slightly, as if amused by Volk''s predicament. "I won''t move a muscle," he said, loud enough for all to hear. "Do whatever you like, Volk. This bull''s going to run you down no matter what." A thought struck Volk at that moment. Move? His eyes narrowed as something clicked in his mind. Without hesitation, his lips curled into a smirk. ''You really want me to use that, huh?'' He started walking forward, casually, without a hint of worry, positioning himself directly between Grounad and the Tomorrowhawk bull. The crowd went wild, their voices filling the air with disbelief. "What''s he doing?" an Orc from the Stonefist Clan shouted. "Is he¡­ walking in front of Grounad?" "Does he not realize what that bull is capable of?" a warrior from the Thunderstrike Clan muttered. "He''s just standing there, like a fool!" "He doesn''t know the Tomorrowhawk bull is about to tear him apart!" an Orc from the Fireblood Clan scoffed. "That thing can triple its speed! He doesn''t stand a chance!" More voices chimed in, the jeers and taunts growing louder as the Orcs from various clans began discussing Volk''s seemingly foolish move. "Does he really think he can stop the bull by just standing there?" another Orc scoffed. "He can''t even transform! Without the Grum-gar form, he''s going to be torn to pieces." "It''s suicide," an Elf muttered, shaking her head. "He doesn''t stand a chance against that beast''s charge. No ability, no transformation, just¡­ what? Standing there? Laughable." In the midst of the mockery, Grounad''s voice cut through the noise, low and dark. "Volk, if you manage to avoid the bull and I''m hit instead," he began, his tone almost mocking. "I''ll do more than admit defeat. I''ll recognize you as my Warchief¡­ and transfer myself to the Dreadmaw Clan." The entire crowd burst into laughter, the idea too absurd for anyone to take seriously. "Grounad, submitting to a Labor Orc?" one Orc cackled. "Now that''s rich!" "Him, a Bloodfang warrior, joining Dreadmaw? The weakest of all the clans? HA!" "It''ll never happen," an Elf scoffed, rolling her eyes. "He''s as good as dead if he thinks that bull won''t crush him." But Volk, his expression calm and composed, replied simply, "So be it. Although I have no use for weaklings like the members of Bloodfang Clan, it would be fun to see one of them submit and kneel down in my presence." The crowd was shocked when they heard that. "What did he say?!" The Orcs from the Bloodfang Clan would mutter. "Heh! So arrogant, a mere hunter Clan," the elves of the Bloodfang Clan would sneer. Volk knew listening to them would give him nothing, so he immediately turned his attention to the bull, with his presence immediately changed as if it was steady as a rock. The Tomorrowhawk bull, clearly hesitant, snorted in frustration. Its massive hooves stomped the ground, kabooff! creating small clouds of dust as it prepared itself for the charge. With much reluctance, the bull let out a final, frustrated bellow and began to move forward. Grounad watched, grinning as the bull gathered speed, fully confident that this would end in Volk''s demise. The crowd tensed, eyes wide with anticipation as the massive beast charged straight toward Volk. The bull''s movements were swift, almost a blur as it picked up momentum, its speed doubling in an instant. Swoosh! The ground shook beneath the weight of its charge, dust swirling around as it barreled toward Volk. The crowd could barely keep up with the bull''s speed, their collective breath held as they watched the beast close in on its target. And then¡­ Swoosh! The bull tripled its speed, a blur of muscle, horns, and fury. The massive beast thundered forward, its path set, its horns gleaming as it charged straight at Volk. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The crowd''s eyes widened, gasps filling the air as they watched in stunned silence. The bull was mere moments from hitting Volk, the force of its charge powerful enough to break bone and tear flesh. And yet, Volk remained perfectly still, his calm, steady figure casting a shadow in the path of the oncoming beast. Just as the bull was about to make contact, the entire arena fell silent. Chapter 86 - 86: What just happened? The moment the bull made contact, time seemed to slow down for everyone watching. Kaboom! The bull didn''t simply collide with its target¡ªit lifted Grounad clean off his feet, as if he weighed nothing, and then, as if it was angry at Grounad''s very existence, he slammed him into the ground with a thunderous kabooming crashing sound! The impact sent tremors through the earth, creating dust and massive crack down the ground, making the crowd of Orcs and Elves recoil in shock. But the real shock came not from the sheer power of the bull''s attack, but from who was actually struck. Every eye widened in disbelief. "It... It hit Grounad?!" gasped an Orc from the Bloodfang Clan. "What in the world just happened?!" an Elf muttered, shaking her head in confusion. "I thought Volk was the one who was hit?" Another elf from other Orc Clan spoke. The massive Tomahawk bull, with its hooves still raised, snorted angrily, oblivious to the stunned reactions of the crowd. Grounad, who should have been standing victorious, was instead the one beneath the bull''s fury. His armor dented from the initial blow, he let out a blood-choked cough, spitting crimson onto the dirt. Cough! His body shook with the effort, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. But the bull wasn''t finished. Without a moment''s hesitation, it reared back once more. Slam! The bull brought Grounad down again with tremendous force, his body bouncing off the ground like a ragdoll. The crowd flinched, even the hardened Orcs grimacing at the sight of the brutal punishment. Slam! Slam! Slam! Three more times, the bull pounded Grounad into the earth, each impact more violent and more destructive than the last. The final slam left him sprawled, his limbs twitching, his eyes rolled back in his head. His once-imposing figure now looked pathetic, broken. Blood pooled around his battered form, and with every labored breath, a spray of blood and saliva splattered onto the ground. The Orc and Elf crowd gasped as one. "How did this happen?" whispered an Elf with wide eyes. "Grounad''s supposed to be stronger than him!" "He''s unconscious!" another Orc exclaimed, his face pale with shock. "The bull... it''s going to kill him!" The Ironhide Chieftain had a look of realization flash across his face as he finally noticed what had happened. His eyes darted across the battlefield, searching for Volk, the supposed target of the bull''s wrath. But Volk... wasn''t where he was supposed to be. He was standing off to the side, casually, as if he were just another spectator. His arms crossed, his expression impassive. He stood there, as though the scene unfolding before him was no more than a passing interest. "STOP! STOP!!" the Ironhide Chieftain roared, his voice filled with panic as he waved his arms. He knew that if the bull continued, it would crush Grounad into nothingness. "HIYIP! HIYIP!!" The bull snorted in response, shaking its head, reluctant to obey but finally stepping away from Grounad, its massive horns lowering as if to apologize for the damage it had done. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the battered form of Grounad lay motionless on the ground, his body twitching slightly, his once-proud form reduced to a broken heap. For a moment, all eyes were on the Ironhide Chieftain, but then, slowly, the crowd''s attention shifted back to Volk. Whispers spread through the gathered Orcs and Elves, disbelief painting their faces. "What... just happened?" an Orc from the Stonefist Clan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Did... did he dodge that?" "But he didn''t move! He was right there!" an Elf exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. "The bull should''ve hit him! How did he just... disappear?" "Was it magic? Did someone feel any kind of magic?" another Orc questioned, his eyes darting around. "There was no magic! I didn''t see anything!" "What did he do?" someone else murmured, the question spreading through the crowd like wildfire. The whispers grew louder, as every Orc and Elf tried to piece together what had happened. They had seen Volk standing directly in the bull''s path, and then... nothing. In the blink of an eye, he had vanished, and Grounad had taken the blow meant for him. "I didn''t even see him move," one Elf muttered, looking around at his companions in confusion. "Neither did I," an Orc agreed, scratching his head. "What the hell did he do?" The disbelief only deepened as more voices joined the murmurs. No one could understand how Volk had evaded the bull. Theories ranged from teleportation to some sort of Grum-gar ability, but none seemed to fit. Meanwhile, Volk stood quietly, ignoring the questions swirling around him. He knew exactly what had happened, but there was no need to explain. The system had gifted him with an ability known as Sidestep, allowing him to vanish from one place and reappear in another in an instant. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It was a perfect escape for situations just like this, but he had no intention of revealing his secret to the crowd. As the Orcs and Elves continued their chatter, Volk finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. "Can we go first now?" The question sent a wave of confusion through the crowd. They had barely processed what had just happened, and now Volk was acting as if nothing was amiss. The Clans looked at him, bewildered, unsure of how to respond. "Go... first?" one of the Elves stammered, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just transpired. The Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan, however, erupted in cheers. They had seen Volk''s strength firsthand, and they knew, deep down, that their leader had triumphed. "That''s Volk!" shouted Grashk, his voice booming as he raised a fist into the air. "As fast as a bullet!" "He didn''t even need to fight! The bull couldn''t touch him!" laughed Grok''Thar, his broad grin spreading from ear to ear. "Strongest there is!" another Dreadmaw Orc that was with Volk in their visit in this catacomb roared, pounding his chest heavily. The rest of the Dreadmaw Clan joined in, their voices rising in unison as they chanted Volk''s name, celebrating their victory. The other Clans, however, were left dumbfounded. Even the proud Bloodfang Clan and the Elves from Ironhide could only stand and stare as the Dreadmaw warriors celebrated their leader. Suddenly, Volk turned toward Solluha''r, his expression softening. He reached out a hand, and Solluha''r, after a moment of hesitation, accepted it. "Let''s go," Volk said quietly. Solluha''r nodded with an unreadable expression as she followed his lead. The Dreadmaw Clan, now standing at the entrance of the Catacomb, was preparing to move forward when a familiar voice rang out through the air, cutting through the cheers. "Wait!" The crowd went silent, and all eyes turned toward the source of the voice. Standing shakily on his feet, blood dripping from his mouth, was Grounad. His face was battered, his body bruised, but his eyes were filled with a fiery determination. "I''m not... done yet," he growled, his voice ragged but defiant. The Dreadmaw Clan halted, their eyes narrowing as they turned to face their fallen adversary of Volk. The tension in the air was palpable, as the crowd waited with bated breath for what would happen next. Chapter 87 - 87: Unknown Reward The crowd was still reeling from the shocking turn of events, but before anyone could fully process what had happened, Grounad stood tall, still feeling his body battered and bruised, yet his expression was unbroken. Like a spirit knowing where it was going. Blood dripped down his mouth, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter than ever. L He turned to face the gathering of Orcs and Elves. "I may have fallen today, but I am no coward. I am no Orc who goes back on his word. From this moment forward, I am no longer a member of the Bloodfang Clan," he declared with a loud voice that echoed across the gathering. The crowd gasped. No one could believe what they were hearing. An Orc¡ªespecially one as proud as Grounad¡ªswearing allegiance to another clan was unheard of. Murmurs began to ripple through the gathered Orcs and Elves, growing louder with each passing moment. "Did he just say..." an Ironhide Orc muttered, his voice trailing off in disbelief. "He''s abandoning the Bloodfang Clan?" an Elf whispered to her companion, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Grounad, one of the strongest warriors¡ªNo! The strongest of the Bloodfang Clan in their younger generation, joining Dreadmaw?" a large Orc from the Stonefist Clan scoffed. "What madness is this?" "He gave his word, and he''s keeping it. A rare trait among Orcs these days," another Orc observed, his arms crossed as he nodded thoughtfully. But the Bloodfang Clan, Grounad''s own people, were the most shaken. The Orcs there wore expressions of betrayal, their murmurs filled with venom and disbelief. "He''s turning his back on his blood? On his own people?" one of the Bloodfang warriors spat, glaring daggers at Grounad. "Volk humiliated him, and now he''s crawling away to save face," a Bloodfang Elder muttered, shaking his head in disgust. "Pathetic." Despite the jeers and insults being thrown his way, Grounad remained stoic. His decision had been made. His eyes, however, softened when they fell upon the figure of his elven wife, Mishana, standing among the crowd. Mishana was a striking figure among the Orcs. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, with an otherworldly glow that marked her as one of the High Elven witches. She stood tall and graceful, her flowing white hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her eyes, large and almond-shaped, were a piercing shade of emerald green, sharp with intelligence and unyielding strength. She was dressed in a combination of elven leather armor and the furs of the Orcish clans, a symbol of her unique bond with Grounad. A light breeze stirred the silver strands of her hair as she gazed back at her husband, her expression unreadable. "Mishana," Grounad called out to her, his voice softer now, filled with a rare tenderness that he reserved only for her. He walked toward her, limping slightly from the beatdown of the bull, but still strong in his resolve. "Grounad," she replied, stepping forward to meet him, her voice as smooth as silk. "Are you sure of this? To leave your clan? Your people? It''s not a decision that can be undone." Grounad nodded, his jaw set. "I gave my word, Mishana. I won''t go back on it. Not even for the Bloodfang Clan. Not even for my honor." Mishana searched his face for a moment, her sharp eyes flickering with emotion. "And what of me? What of us?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm. "If you leave, will I follow you into the Dreadmaw Clan? Will we be outcasts together?" The Orcs and Elves fell silent, listening intently to their conversation. This was more than just a decision about clans¡ªit was about family, about loyalty. Grounad reached out, gently placing his massive hand on Mishana''s cheek. "You are my wife, my partner. Where I go, you go. But... the choice is yours. If you want to remain with the Bloodfang Clan, I won''t stop you. I won''t force this on you." Mishana stood there for a moment, considering his words carefully. Her eyes flickered with a mix of emotions¡ªlove, loyalty, uncertainty. But there was also resolve in her gaze. She placed her hand over Grounad''s, her fingers delicate but strong. "Grounad, I am not one to be left behind. If you leave, then I leave with you. The Bloodfang Clan was never truly my home. You are. Wherever you go, I will follow." A murmur rippled through the crowd again, and Volk could hear every word as the Orcs and Elves speculated on what had just transpired. "She''s leaving too?" an Ironhide Elf whispered. "She''s giving up her place among the Bloodfang Clan for him?" "That''s love, I suppose," an Orc muttered, his brow furrowed. "Or foolishness," another Elf replied, shaking her head. "The Dreadmaw Clan gains a new warrior, and a High Elf no less," an Orc grumbled. "This is unprecedented." Grounad and Mishana stood together, united in their decision. They had chosen their path, and now they looked to Volk¡ªthe leader of the Dreadmaw Clan¡ªfor guidance. But when they turned their gaze toward him, they found only empty air. Volk was gone. "Where did he¡ª?" Grounad began, his voice trailing off in confusion. One of the Dreadmaw Clan warriors stepped forward, pointing toward the entrance of the catacombs. "He''s already gone inside." Grounad and Mishana exchanged a glance, their expressions both astonished and impressed. Without another word, they hurried toward the entrance, scrambling to catch up. --- Meanwhile, deep inside the catacombs, Volk stepped on through the darkness without a sense of purpose. The eerie silence of the underground passageways didn''t bother him. He had been here before. But this time, something felt different. The familiar glow of the system flashed before his eyes, and he quickly checked his latest reward. Ding! | System Reward: Radioactive Wireless Connectivity. | Volk furrowed his brow, staring at the strange message. "What the hell is this?" he muttered to himself. "Is this even a thing?" He swiped the notification away, focusing instead on his surroundings. When he had entered the catacombs last time, the place had been a dark, damp maze of stone and bones. The kind of place where creatures lurked in the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting prey. But now... it was different. The cold stone walls had been replaced with lush greenery. Trees and vines grew along the walls, their roots burrowing deep into the earth. The air was warm and fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and damp soil. It was as if the catacombs had transformed into an underground forest. "What is going on?" Volk whispered, his eyes wide with surprise. He stepped forward cautiously, his instincts on high alert. This was not the place he had remembered. Something had changed within the depths of the catacombs, something unnatural. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the transformation. How could a place of death and decay turn into a living, breathing ecosystem? And more importantly¡ªwhat dangers now lurked within? As Volk ventured deeper into the unexpected greenery, the mystery of the catacombs only grew thicker, and with every step, he knew that something far more dangerous awaited them within these depths. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. --- Just as Volk disappeared further into the unknown, Grounad and Mishana arrived at the entrance of the catacombs, breathless and wide-eyed. "He''s already inside?" Grounad said, his voice tinged with frustration and admiration. "Then we have to hurry," Mishana replied, her eyes narrowing with determination. Together, they stepped into the green-infested depths, ready to face whatever lay ahead. Chapter 88 - 88: Foreboding feeling Outside the entrance of the catacombs, the air was tense with murmurs and discussions. The leaders of the gathered Orc clans stood in small circles, their imposing figures casting long shadows in the dim light. It was an unusual alliance: the Bloodfang Clan, the Ironhide Clan, the Thunderstrike Clan, the Stonefist Clan, the Shadowclaw Clan, the Fireblood Clan, and the Frostbite Clan. Despite the uneasy truce, none of them could hide their disdain toward the Dreadmaw Clan¡ªa clan known for its hunting prowess but not much else. "Hmph, can you believe it?" sneered Garnok, the chieftain of the Thunderstrike Clan, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "A hunter clan, of all things, is the first to enter the catacombs. They probably think tracking animals is the same as conquering dungeons." The Ironhide Chieftain, Raghur, chuckled heartily, his large frame shaking with mirth. "Hunters, not warriors, indeed. The Dreadmaw Clan may know how to stalk prey, but they know nothing of real combat. That Volk is no warrior¡ªhe''s a mere laborer! A grunt who moves rocks, not mountains." Several of the Orcs from the surrounding clans snickered, nodding in agreement. Their voices were filled with arrogance and a deep sense of superiority. "Exactly," said Brakkas, leader of the Stonefist Clan, his deep, gravelly voice carrying through the group. "The Dreadmaws are skilled in hunting beasts and scavenging, but they''ve never stood in the front lines of a true battle. They don''t have the strength or the courage for it." "Nor the bloodlust," added Zarrath, the shadowy leader of the Shadowclaw Clan, his eyes gleaming with malice. "They can sneak through forests and hide in the brush, but in the open, they are nothing. They don''t know the taste of a true kill." The Elves standing nearby, from various allied tribes, exchanged knowing glances. Though their expressions were neutral, they, too, seemed to share the opinion that the Dreadmaw Clan was far beneath the other Orc clans in terms of prowess. "I''ve seen more battle spirit in a deer," an Ironhide Orc laughed, his voice thick with derision. "They''ll lose themselves in those catacombs," said another Orc from the Fireblood Clan, his massive form illuminated by the flickering flames of a nearby torch. "The moment they run into something they can''t hunt, they''ll be finished. This place isn''t a forest¡ªit''s a dungeon. It''ll eat them alive." The laughter grew louder, more boisterous. It was clear that no one among the gathered clans took the Dreadmaw Clan seriously. To them, the Dreadmaws were barely more than a nuisance¡ªuseful for hunting and tracking, but worthless in the heat of battle or the depths of the dungeon. "Hunters, not warriors," one Frostbite Orc muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Yet, as the laughter echoed through the gathering, it was Varrok, the chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan, who broke the mirth with a deep, rumbling voice. "True, the Dreadmaws are hunters. But this Volk... there''s something different about him." The words hung in the air for a moment, silencing the mocking conversations. Varrok''s voice carried weight, for the Bloodfang Clan was among the most feared and respected of all the Orc clans. "Different?" asked Garnok, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "He''s just a labor Orc. What could possibly be different about him? Plus, it was just pure luck after all, just a simple unique skill that they accidentally discovered. Not much of a strong indication that it would alarm us." Varrok stroked his chin thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on the entrance to the catacombs, where Volk had vanished. "I''ve seen plenty of labor Orcs in my time, but none like him. He defeated Grounad, one of our strongest warriors, with... I don''t even know what he did. One moment he was there, the next, he was gone, and the bull slammed into Grounad. Do you all feep a magic?" There was a murmur of surprise and confusion among the other clan leaders. "A trick, maybe," suggested Zarrath, his voice dripping with skepticism. "A trick of the eye. The Dreadmaws are cunning hunters, after all. But they rely on deception, not strength." Varrok shook his head. "It wasn''t a deception. It was something else. He teleported. Or moved so fast that none of us could see him. Whatever it was, it''s why we lost. And I don''t think we should dismiss him so easily." A tense silence fell over the group as the words sunk in. For a moment, the arrogance faded from their expressions, replaced by something closer to wariness. But then, Raghur, the Ironhide Chieftain, burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the air. "Haha! Oh, come now, Varrok. You can''t be serious! A labor Orc from a hunter clan? Teleporting? Outpacing a Bloodfang warrior like Grounad? The Dreadmaws got lucky, that''s all. Nothing more." The laughter spread like wildfire, rolling through the gathered Orcs and Elves. "Lucky indeed! Maybe it''s because his body was made from a Labor Orc that we didn''t see or feel a disturbance of magic in the air, making it seem invisible!" one Orc from the Shadowclaw Clan cackled, slapping his knee. "Luck runs out in the dungeons, though," added another Orc from the Stonefist Clan, his laughter booming like thunder. But the laughter pause when a curious Elf, standing near the back of the group, raised a question. His voice, soft and lilting, cut through the noise like a whisper carried on the wind. "But... what if the Dreadmaw Clan reaches the bottom of the dungeon first? What if they claim the treasure that lies within? Will we follow them then? "After all, it was agreed that the Bloodfang Clan would lead us once we entered. But now that the Dreadmaw Clan has gone in first, they might take what we came for. Plus, since they are a hunter clan, aren''t they experts at hunting animals and beasts? What if they clear it before us? What will happen then? Are we going to acknowledge them as our leaders?" The question was like a sharp thin slam of whip in the air, casting a brief silence over the crowd. There was a flicker of unease among the Orcs, a moment where they seemed to consider the possibility. But it was Brakkas, the Stonefist Chieftain, who broke the silence with a derisive snort. "Follow the Dreadmaws? Hah! Impossible. They won''t make it halfway through the dungeon before they''re torn apart by the creatures within. They''re hunters, not warriors. They''ll track the beast but won''t be able to kill it." "The moment they encounter something bigger than a deer, they''ll be finished," Raghur added with a cruel smile. "Even if they did manage to find the treasure, it would be wasted on them," muttered Zarrath, his dark eyes gleaming with contempt. "They wouldn''t know what to do with it." The Elves and Orcs alike erupted in laughter once more, the sound filling the air with mocking mirth. The idea of the Dreadmaw Clan succeeding where others had failed was simply too ludicrous for them to entertain. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Impossible!" they chorused, their voices full of condescension. And so, they stood, laughing at the thought of the Dreadmaw Clan ever becoming anything more than simple hunters. The idea of them reaching the bottom of the dungeon, claiming the treasure, or leading the rest of the Orc clans was absurd to them. Completely impossible, very impossible. Chapter 89 - 89: Follower Volk stood among the Dreadmaw Clan members, watching as the Old Orcs of the clan sat in silence, suppressing the natural strength in their bodies while the Elves, their partners, held back their mana. It was a strange sight, one that felt wrong to Volk, who was part of the younger generation. The Old Orcs remained still, one could see their faces were all blank, as if waiting for something unknown. The atmosphere was tense, a quiet resolve hanging over the group. No one moved, no one spoke. Their goal, Volk reminded himself, was simple: stay in the dungeon until the war on the surface subsided. Survive. That was all they had to do, but something about it bothered him. Yes, it bothered him so much. Volk felt like this wasn''t the Dreadmaw Clan he knew¡ªhunters, trackers, fighters. They were warriors, not passive bystanders waiting for the storm to pass. Volk''s brow furrowed as he looked at everyone again to watch them suppress their physique and abilities. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Maybe, just maybe, he was new to the internal workings of the Dreadmaw Clan, so he didn''t know much about them. The catacomb itself was different from what he remembered. When he had entered it last, it had been a narrow, dark space, with walls of jagged stone closing in on every side. Now, the place seems to have expanded. It was almost... alive. Lush greenery covered the once barren ground, with vines creeping up the walls. The air was thick with a strange energy, like the pulse of something vast and ancient beneath the surface. "Why is it different?" Volk muttered under his breath. "Are the beasts coming out now? Should we all prepare and not listen to the Old Orcs to stay and just be prepared?" There was a growing sense of unease inside his head, and it seemed to want to drill deep at it. Something was missing, something important. But what? Suddenly, cutting through his thoughts, a voice called out. Familiar. It seemed to resonate through the dense atmosphere of the dungeon, clear even among the silent crowd of Dreadmaw Orcs and Elves. "Volk!" At first, he thought he had imagined it. But the call came again, louder this time. "Volk!" He scanned the sea of Orcs and Elves around him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Who could it be? As his gaze swept over the crowd, his heart skipped a beat when he finally saw the source of the voice. "Grounad?" Volk whispered in disbelief. At his side, Solluha''r, his wife and his Main Nuclear Reactor, stepped forward, hugged his shoulder and followed his gaze. "Isn''t that the guy you defeated? The one from the Bloodfang Clan?" Volk nodded slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the scene unfolding before him. "Yes... it''s him." Why was Grounad here, among the Dreadmaw Clan? The Bloodfang Clan had always looked down on the Dreadmaws. They were not enemies, nor rivals but they looked down at the Dreadmaw Clan for being a hunter Clan. However, here Grounad was, walking toward him with eagerness, looking like he had purpose, sign his broad shoulders squared, and wearing a serious face. When Grounad finally stood before Volk, he panted a little, and when he finally recovered, he bowed slightly, a gesture of respect that made the younger Orc''s eyes widen in surprise. Beside Grounad was a tall, graceful Elf woman, her sharp features softened by a calm smile. Her long, silvery hair fell over her shoulders, and her green eyes glinted in the dim light of the catacomb. "Volk, I come before you not as an enemy, but as a follower." Grounad''s voice was deep, and there was a strange pride in his tone. Volk blinked. "A follower? What are you talking about?" "You remember our fight, don''t you? I gave my word. If you defeated me, I would join you. I, Grounad of the Bloodfang Clan, am a warrior who does not go back on his word. From this day forward, I am no longer of the Bloodfang Clan. I will follow you, Volk, and become part of the Dreadmaw Clan." The murmurs began immediately. The younger Orcs and Elves surrounding them exchanged confused glances. Volk could hear the whispers clearly. "What? He''s leaving the Bloodfang Clan?" "Didn''t they hate the Dreadmaw? Why would he join us?" "Is this some kind of trick?" But Grounad stood tall, unbothered by the murmurs. He turned to the Elf beside him and gestured toward her. "This is my wife, Mishina. She stands by my side in all things, and today, she, too, chooses to follow me in this new path. We pledge our loyalty to you, Volk." Volk''s eyes flickered between Grounad and Mishina, still trying to process what was happening. He had never expected Grounad to take their fight seriously enough to leave his clan. But here he was, standing in the heart of the Dreadmaw Clan, declaring his loyalty. It was... bewildering. "Mishina," Grounad said, turning to his wife. "What do you think of this? Are you sure you want to follow me? I won''t force you into this life." The Elf woman smiled softly, her voice calm but firm. "Grounad, where you go, I will go. We have always faced challenges together, and this will be no different. Whether we are part of the Bloodfang Clan or the Dreadmaw Clan, my loyalty is to you. And if you believe in this new path, then I will walk it with you." Their words hung in the air, and for a moment, Volk didn''t know what to say. He can go and shamelessly command anyone to action, and he would be comfortable if it was inside his clan. But this? A warrior from a rival clan swearing loyalty to him? Is this for real? He felt somewhat uncomfortable with this idea. "You... really mean it?" Volk muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "I do," Grounad replied proudly. "I am Grounad, once of the Bloodfang Clan, now a follower of Volk. My accomplishments in the Bloodfang will mean nothing now, for I will earn new ones under your leadership." Volk scratched his head awkwardly, unsure how to react. "Uh... I, uh... I accept your loyalty." Grounad grinned, his fierce eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good. Then it''s settled." Before the conversation could continue, Grounad suddenly looked around, his brow furrowing. "But tell me, Volk, why is the Dreadmaw Clan not moving? You''ve led them this far, but now everyone is just standing still. Why?" Volk blinked. "What do you mean?" "I mean, why is no one advancing? Why are they all suppressing their strength and mana?" Grounad''s voice was filled with confusion. "Is this some kind of strategy? Are they waiting for something? Because from where I stand, it looks like they''re... hiding." The question sent a ripple through Volk''s head. He had been thinking about these thoughts since earlier, about the strange change in the catacomb that he had noticed. Should the Dreadmaw Clan move? Should they progress deep into the dungeon? Volk could see that Grounad was really confused. What was really happening here? Should they really move and not stay and wait for the war to settle? Chapter 90 - 90: Other Orc Clans secret Volk stared at Grounad, with his brow furrowed incredibly in confusion. "I thought we only needed to stay here, wait for the war above to settle down between Red elven Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches, and then we could come back, right?" His voice held uncertainty, as if the plan he had believed in suddenly made no sense. Grounad glanced at him with an expression of realization, his rough features softening as he remembered something crucial. "That''s what the other clans want you to think, Volk. But it''s not that simple." The Dreadmaw Clan had always been different. Discriminated against. Shunned by the other Orc Clans because of their perceived weakness. Volk didn''t know that much as Grounad observe his facial expression. And probably, Volk also didn''t understand why it mattered so much here, in this dungeon. "You don''t know, do you?" Grounad continued, his tone patient but serious. "The Dreadmaw Clan has always been looked down upon. Other Orc Clans view us as weak, unfit to fight in the true battles that define an Orc''s honor. "They''ve even turned us away when some of our best warriors tried to join them. And because of that, we''re not included in any of the major decisions. Were left out of the most important things." Volk''s expression grew darker as he listened. He had always sensed that the Dreadmaw Clan was considered different, but he hadn''t realized the extent of the discrimination. His fists clenched as he thought of how their strength had been questioned for generations. "But now... we''re here, right?" Volk asked, his voice low. "And that means something, doesn''t it?" Grounad nodded. "Yes, it means they''ve realized something important. You see, Volk, you know about the Dark Elven Warlocks outside on the opposite side of the gate of this catacomb, right?" Volk nodded, his thoughts flickering back to what he knew about the warlocks. "Yeah, they''ve been enemies of the Orc Clans for years and I know that they are here to take revenge. But what about them?" "It''s not just the warlocks anymore." Grounad''s voice dropped to a near whisper, and his eyes darted around, as if making sure no one else was listening. "There are also Dark Elven Witches on the other side of the catacomb outside. They''re just as dangerous, if not more so, than the warlocks. And the other Orc Clans¡ªthey know it. That''s why they''re not just planning to wait this out, like you thought." Volk''s heart began to race. "What are you saying?" Grounad sighed deeply, his large shoulders rising and falling in a slow, deliberate motion. "The real goal isn''t just to survive the war and wait for the battle outside to subside between the two sides. No, the real goal is to get to the bottom of the catacomb and retrieve the crystals that are forming down there." Volk blinked, taken aback. "Crystals? Why would they get it?" "Yes," Grounad confirmed. "Crystals with immense power. After you take the last formed one, there will be newly formed ones gonna be created too. "And the only way to escape this entire war is to get to the bottom of the completed catacomb, find those crystals, and drip your blood onto them. If the catacomb accepts you, you''ll be sent to another dimension¡ªone where the war doesn''t reach. That''s the real goal, Volk." The young Orc stared at him, speechless. "But... What about the Warlocks? And the Dark Elven Witches?" Grounad leaned in closer. "If you go back now, if you try to escape the normal way, they''ll be waiting for you. The Warlocks and the Witches will slaughter anyone who tries to leave this dungeon alive. "The other Orc Clans know this. That''s why they''re fighting to get to the bottom and be accepted by the clan. The only way to survive is to complete the catacomb. That''s the only way out." A heavy silence settled over them as the weight of Grounad''s words hit Volk like a hammer. Volk felt his chest tighten, with his mind racing as he tried to process what he had just learned. "So there''s no other choice... but to escape through the crystals and let the dungeon be sent to other dimensions?" Volk asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Grounad nodded grimly. "Sadly, yes. If there were another way, we''d take it. But the presence of the Dark Elven Witches means we don''t have that luxury. This is the last option. But now, I am telling you, Volk, that we need to get to the bottom first or all of us will die." Volk felt a chill run down his spine. The reality of the situation was far more dangerous than he had anticipated. If they didn''t reach the bottom, if they didn''t complete the catacomb, they would all be killed. And then Grounad added something that made Volk''s blood run cold. "Fortunately, you''ve already completed the catacomb once, Volk. If not for you, we''d all be dead by now." Volk stood frozen, his mind reeling from the truth of their predicament. He had completed the catacomb once, yes. But could he do it again? Could they all do it together? sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Suddenly, a sharp, metallic sound echoed through the cavern. Volk''s reflexes kicked in, and he moved just in time to avoid a deadly slash of a sword that had been aimed directly at him. The blade whistled past him, missing by mere inches. He stumbled back, his heart pounding in his chest. "What the¡ª" he began, but his words were cut off when he saw who had attacked him. Standing before him, holding a massive, serrated sword, was the chieftain of the Dreadmaw Clan. The chieftain was an imposing figure, towering over even the largest of the Orcs around him. His skin was a deep, mottled green, with scars criss crossing his arms and chest, a testament to countless battles. His eyes were wild, filled with a mix of fury and madness. Long, matted hair hung down his back, and his tusks jutted out from his mouth like sharpened ivory spears. His armor was adorned with the bones of beasts, and his presence alone sent a wave of tension through the cavern. "How dare you!" the chieftain bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. Volk stared at him, his mind still reeling from the near-death experience. "What are you¡ª" "You dare to challenge the authority of the Dreadmaw Clan? You, a labor Orc? How dare you think you can lead us into this dungeon! You''re a disgrace!" Volk''s eyes narrowed. This was not the reaction he had expected. He had saved them. He had completed the catacomb. And now this? But before he could respond, the chieftain raised his sword again, ready to strike. "You''re no leader! You''re a fool! And I will show everyone here what happens to fools who defy the Dreadmaw Clan!" The crowd of Orcs and Elves around them tensed, their eyes wide with fear and wonder why he is attacking. The tension in the air was palpable. Volk clenched his fists, his body preparing for a fight. If the chieftain wanted to challenge him, then so be it. But something deep inside him warned that this fight would be unlike any other he had faced before. Chapter 91 - 91: Important Mission Volk stared at the chieftain, his muscles tensing as he held back the urge to strike. "What is your problem, chieftain?" His voice was low, controlled, but there was a hint of frustration. He didn''t understand why the chieftain had attacked him so suddenly, and more importantly, why the older Orc was so furious. The chieftain, his eyes filled with seething rage, stepped forward, his massive figure towering over Volk. His gnarled hands gripped the handle of his sword tightly, and the air around him seemed to grow heavy. "My problem?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the cavern. "You dare ask me what my problem is?" Volk said nothing, standing his ground. He could feel the eyes of the other Orcs and Elves on them, watching in silence. The older Orcs in particular seemed to be waiting for something. The chieftain continued, his voice booming with anger. "I am the chieftain of this tribe! It is my duty, my right, to accept new members into the Dreadmaw Clan! Not yours!" He jabbed a finger at Volk, his face twisted in fury. "You, a labor Orc, think you have the authority to bring someone into my tribe without my permission? You have insulted me in front of my clan, in front of our ancestors!" Volk blinked, confused. "I didn''t know¡ª" "Exactly!" the chieftain interrupted, his voice cutting like a blade. "You didn''t know! Because you are ignorant! You are not worthy of making decisions for this tribe. You are not worthy of leading anyone, let alone someone like Grounad." He spat the name like it was poison on his tongue. The chieftain''s eyes gleamed with anger as he continued. "By accepting Grounad into our tribe, you have challenged my reign as chieftain. You, who are barely more than a child in the eyes of our people, dare to think you can usurp my authority?" Volk opened his mouth to speak, but the chieftain wasn''t done. He raised his sword and pointed it at Volk''s chest, his voice shaking with fury. "Even with my power suppressed, even if I am no stronger than you or the others here, my pride as an Orc Warrior is not something the likes of you can trample on! "You think that just because you''ve completed the catacomb, you have the right to disrespect me? To disrespect our traditions?" The older generation of Orcs, who had been standing silently, raised their hands in agreement, their faces stern. One of them, a grizzled Orc with scars running down his arms, spoke up. "The chieftain is right. You have disrespected the traditions of the Dreadmaw Clan, Volk. The chieftain must be the one to accept new members. For you to do it without his permission is a grave insult." Another elder, her voice rough with age, added, "You have challenged his authority. The punishment for such disrespect is death. Offer your head, Volk, and accept your fate." Volk stood there, speechless. He hadn''t known. No one had told him that only the chieftain could accept new members into the tribe. It was an unspoken rule, one that the older generation seemed to understand instinctively. However, Volk? He was from a different world, a different life. And now, he was being condemned for something he didn''t even know was wrong. As the elders continued to call for his death, Volk''s mind drifted back to his past life. He remembered being in a wheelchair, his body weak and frail. The adults around him, caregivers and teachers, had always been quick to scold him, to tell him what to do. Even the smallest mistakes would earn their anger. He had been powerless then, just as he felt now. They had lied to his parents, making him out to be a troublemaker, when all he had ever wanted was to live in peace. Just because he was weak, just because he didn''t know any better, they had abused their authority over him. The memories stirred a deep hatred within him. The same hatred he had felt as a child, the same hatred he had tried to bury when he came to this world. But now, it was bubbling to the surface again. The chieftain and the elders¡ªwere they any different from the adults in his past life? Were they just using their authority to oppress him because they could? Volk''s jaw clenched as the anger inside him grew. He wasn''t weak anymore. He wasn''t powerless. And he wasn''t going to stand here and let them dictate his fate. He was about to speak, about to defend himself, when suddenly, a familiar sound echoed in his mind. | Ding! A message from the system appeared before his eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light of the cavern. | Reach and drip some blood first on the newly forming crystal deep in the dungeon within thirty minutes. | Rewards: The host will always be sent to a dimension near where the Nuclear Reactor Vessel will be sent to. | Failure: Death of everyone in the Dreadmaw Clan, including the host. | Volk''s eyes widened in shock as he read the message. "What...?" he whispered under his breath. His mind raced. A crystal? A new dimension? And what was this about a Nuclear Reactor Vessel? He didn''t have time to think. The system had given him a time limit¡ªthirty minutes. If he didn''t reach the crystal in time, he would lose whatever reward was being offered. And something told him that the reward was more important than anything else happening right now. After all, the punishment is nothing but death! His gaze shifted from the system message to the chieftain, who was still glaring at him with fury in his eyes. The chieftain had no idea what was going on in Volk''s mind, no idea that something far more important than their petty dispute was at stake. Volk swallowed his salivas hard, trying to keep his composure. He needed to act quickly. He couldn''t waste time arguing with the chieftain, not when the system was offering him a way out¡ªpossibly a way to survive. His eyes darted to Solluha''r, his partner. She was standing a few feet away, her expression one of concern and confusion. She hadn''t said a word during the confrontation, but now, as Volk''s gaze met hers, she seemed to sense that something was wrong. Volk took a deep breath. He didn''t know what to do next, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn''t stay here and wait for the chieftain to decide his fate. Not when the system had just handed him a lifeline. Without saying a word, he nodded to Solluha''r, signaling that they needed to move. She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod in return, understanding the urgency in his eyes. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But before Volk could make his move, the chieftain raised his sword again, his voice thundering through the cavern. "How dare you stand there in silence, little Labor Volk? Do you have no respect for your elders? No respect for the traditions of our clan?" Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to think of a way out. The system''s message lingered in his mind, urging him to act. But the chieftain was in his way, and Volk knew that if he made the wrong move now, he might not survive long enough to reach the crystal. Chapter 92 - 92: Wont be a problem Volk''s jaw clenched as the chieftain''s words echoed in his ears. His muscles tensed with the weight of a decision he never thought he''d have to make. He had always respected the older generation even in his past life, had even tried to understand their ways, but this¡ªthis was different. The chieftain was pushing him too far, trying to cling to power and traditions that no longer made sense. Without thinking, Volk stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. His voice was calm, but the undercurrent of anger was unmistakable. "Look, old one," he began, his words dripping with contempt, "you''ve suppressed your body and mana, and you''re still injured. I don''t want to fight such weakness." The chieftain''s face contorted in fury, but Volk didn''t stop. "Rest for now," he continued, his voice growing sharper. "Wait for me. I''ll give you a quick death when I return. If becoming chieftain is what you want me to do, I''ll take that title from you without breaking a sweat." There was a stunned silence. Every Orc and Elf in the chamber stood frozen, their mouths agape, unable to process what they had just heard. It was as if time had stopped. Volk didn''t even glance back at the chieftain. He turned on his heel and strode away, his steps echoing in the eerie quiet that followed his declaration. As Volk disappeared into the shadows of the dungeon, Grounad stood, slack-jawed. He hadn''t expected this kind of confidence¡ªor was it arrogance? Whatever it was, he admired it. After a brief pause, Grounad turned to his wife, Mishana. Her pale face glistened with worry, her silver hair catching the dim light of the cavern. She nodded slightly, knowing what he was about to do. "Wait here," Grounad muttered, his deep voice laced with urgency. Mishana''s emerald eyes bore into his, but she didn''t object. She trusted him. Without wasting another second, Grounad took off, with his massive legs pumping as he chased after Volk. Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! The older Orcs and Elves could only watch in disbelief as he vanished from sight. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. However, he wasn''t the only one. Grashk, Grok''Thar, and several others who had followed Volk previously shared a glance, and without a word, they too began to move. The Elves stood in silence, unsure of what to make of the scene before them. Solluha''r, standing among the elders, furrowed her brow, clearly torn between staying behind and following her partner. The older generation of Orcs and Elves exchanged confused glances, but none of them dared speak up. They were flabbergasted by the sheer audacity of what was happening. --- Grounad''s heavy footsteps echoed through the winding halls of the dungeon, but he finally caught up to Volk, who was striding ahead with a singular focus. The dim light of the dungeon''s eerie glow cast long shadows, but Grounad could see the determination in Volk''s gait. He hurried to fall into step beside him. "Volk," Grounad called out, slightly breathless. Volk slowed, glancing over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. "This... this is the same as last time," Grounad said, his voice a mix of curiosity and anxiety. "The greenery, the strange plants¡ªthey weren''t here before, but the dungeon layout? It''s almost identical." Volk raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked, genuinely surprised. Grounad nodded. "Yeah. It''s the same, but with one critical difference." "And what''s that?" Volk asked, his eyes narrowing. "The numbers," Grounad replied gravely. "The monsters¡ªthey''ve tripled in number. The dungeon is summoning creatures from different dimensions. The traps, the challenges¡ªit''s all going to be a lot worse this time." Volk frowned, letting the information sink in. His mind began working quickly, calculating the implications of what Grounad had just said. Tripled monsters? Summoned from other dimensions? This dungeon wasn''t just a death trap anymore¡ªit was something much more dangerous. And yet, he felt no fear. Instead, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Then this won''t be a problem," Volk muttered to himself, more amused than concerned. Grounad stared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean, it won''t be a problem? This dungeon''s difficulty has been ramped up to an insane level! We''ll be facing monsters we''ve never even seen before." Volk shrugged, his casual demeanor unnerving Grounad. "I can handle worse." He glanced back at the others who had followed him into the depths. "And besides, we''re not alone." The others, Grashk, Grok''Thar, and the few others who had loyally followed Volk, now caught up with them, their faces a mixture of excitement and trepidation. They had heard Grounad''s warning, but they shared Volk''s confidence. "So," Volk said, turning to face his small group, "who''s ready to tear through this dungeon?" Grashk grinned, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth. "As long as we''re following you, Volk, I think we''ve got a chance." Grok''Thar nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I''m not afraid of a few extra monsters. Let them come." Volk couldn''t help but smirk. The loyalty and confidence of these Orcs were contagious. They didn''t care about the odds¡ªthey trusted him. And Volk? He trusted himself. No! He trusted his Grum-gar form and system. "Good," he said simply, turning back toward the path ahead. "Let''s move." As they began to press deeper into the dungeon, Grounad walked alongside Volk, still troubled by the growing danger. "You really think we can survive this?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with doubt. Volk glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Survive? Grounad, we''re not here to survive. We''re here to conquer." The sheer audacity of Volk''s words left Grounad speechless for a moment. He had followed him down into the dungeon, believing in his strength after their fight, but now he was starting to see something else in Volk¡ªsomething that wasn''t just strength or confidence. It was something far deeper. A will. A drive. Something that couldn''t be easily crushed. Is this really the weak Dreadmaw Clan? They walked for several more minutes in silence, the air growing colder as the path narrowed and the stone walls began to close in around them. The faint sound of growls echoed in the distance, the first sign that the dungeon was preparing to unleash its horrors upon them. Finally, Volk stopped, his eyes scanning the path ahead. "There," he whispered, nodding toward the faint glow of crystal shards embedded in the walls. "This is where it begins." Grounad''s grip tightened around his axe as he followed Volk''s gaze. The sound of approaching monsters grew louder, the ground vibrating beneath their feet. Volk cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders in preparation. "This dungeon may have tripled its threats," he said, "but that just means more opportunities for us." With a quick glance to his comrades, Volk added, "Stay sharp. Watch each other''s backs. And remember¡ªthis isn''t just about surviving. We''re here to win." The first of the monsters appeared at the edge of the corridor, its snarling face illuminated by the faint glow of the crystals. Behind it, the sounds of more creatures approaching grew louder, a cacophony of roars and growls that promised an onslaught. It''s like a stampede of monsters and they were together. Volk gripped his weapon tightly, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Let''s get to work." Chapter 93 - 93: Flabbergasted Grounad''s mind had been spinning ever since that fateful day, and that nagging curiosity wouldn''t let him rest for even a single minute. How had the Dreadmaw Clan managed to pass through the other clans so easily? Did they really fight all those monsters? Or was there something else going on that he didn''t know about? And now, as they prepared to descend deeper into the dungeon, his thoughts swirled even more intensely when he sensed the monsters were near. Is this it? Grounad will find out now? He was thinking maybe that Volk or the new generation of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs was really different. After all, after being ragdolled by the bull earlier, he was not that stupid. He saw Volk teleport, but he''s not sure if Volk really used magic at that time. It was as if Volk had naturally hazardous magic particles in his body that were so well concentrated that he didn''t even notice. Clang! Clang! Clang! Volk slammed his bone spear on his bone shield. And the others followed suit. Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Gulp! Grounad stood there as he couldn''t shake the image of Volk marching forward with such confidence. Why wasn''t he taking the convenient way out? Did they really go through that shortcut full of monsters the last time? And now, they were going to do it again, with even more monsters waiting for them. He couldn''t understand it. It defied reason. Volk wasn''t even flinching. His curiosity was burning inside him. He wanted to ask, but before he could open his mouth, Volk''s voice rang out, loud and clear, cutting through the stillness of the dungeon like a blade. "ARE YOU READY, DREADMAW CLAN?" Volk bellowed, with his voice filled with challenge and desire for combat. The others, without hesitation, shouted back, with their voices echoing in the dark corridors. "WE ARE READY!" Even Grounad, despite the questions that still swarming at his head, found himself yelling alongside them. His chest swelled with determination, though confusion lingered just beneath the surface. "WE ARE READY!" he shouted, feeling the weight of the moment, even as his thoughts screamed for answers. Suddenly, the faint sound of scurrying claws and low growls grew louder as the monsters emerged from the depths of the tunnel. These were creatures Grounad couldn''t recognize¡ªbeasts twisted and grotesque, with glowing eyes and gnarled limbs. They crawled and slithered toward them, the air around them thick with their stench. But then... something unexpected happened. The monsters stopped. They froze, mid-step, their glowing eyes widening in terror. It was like a bolt of lightning. Even Grounad found himself frozen, with his body immediately felt so tense, not understanding what was happening. "What is going on?" he muttered, with his voice barely a whisper as he watched in disbelief. The creatures¡ªeach one more horrifying than the last¡ªbegan to tremble. And then, as if driven by some unseen force, they turned and fled. Swack! Swack! Swack! The scurrying claws and growls turned to pitiful whimpers as the monsters scrambled away in fear, disappearing into the shadows from which they had come. The Dreadmaw Clan Orcs stood still for a moment, their weapons still in their hands, watching the monsters retreat. Then, as if nothing had happened, they sheathed their weapons and started walking again, casually continuing their journey as if they hadn''t just been confronted by a swarm of terrifying beasts. Grounad stood there, flabbergasted, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just unfolded. He blinked several times, his grip still tight on his weapon. "What the... just happened?" he finally asked, his voice shaky with disbelief. Before anyone could respond, a booming laugh erupted from Grashk, one of the Dreadmaw warriors. "HAHAHAHAHAHA!" S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The others joined in, their laughter filling the cavern, each one casting amused glances at Grounad. "LOOK AT HIS FACE!" Grok''Thar bellowed between fits of laughter. "HAHAHAHA! HE''S COMPLETELY LOST RIGHT NOW HAHAHAHHA!" Another Orc pounded his fist on his thigh, doubling over with laughter. "YOU SHOULD''VE SEEN YOUR EXPRESSION, GROUNAD! YOU LOOKED LIKE YOU JUST SAW A GHOST!" His laughter was so intense that he could barely get the words out. "HAHAHAHAHA!" The chorus of laughter grew louder as more and more of the Dreadmaw Clan joined in, their voices filling the cavern with an infectious joy. "OH SHIT! OH SHIT! HAHAHAHAHA!" They slapped each other on the back, wiped tears from their eyes, and pointed at Grounad, who could do nothing but stand there, utterly bewildered. Finally, one of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, still chuckling, slung an arm around Grounad''s broad shoulders. "Ah, don''t be too hard on yourself, Grounad," the Orc said, grinning. "You''re not the first to be confused by it. Volk has... Well, let''s just say he''s got a unique quality." Grounad looked at him, still dazed. "What do you mean?" The Orc''s grin widened. "You see, Volk''s a Labor Orc. Probably because he''s spent his life toiling in the worst conditions, working with hazardous magic particles, dangerous substances that would kill most Orcs. But for some unknown reason, Volk''s body has absorbed so much of that hazardous magic unlike other normal Labor Orcs, it''s like a shield." "Yeah," another Orc chimed in, still snickering. "The monsters? They smell that magic on him, and they think he''s some kind of beast¡ªa predator even stronger than they are who was more adapted to the magic particles. They don''t dare come near him." Grounad blinked, trying to make sense of it all. "But... shouldn''t he be dead if he''s contaminated with hazardous magic?" The Orcs around him just shrugged, their faces still amused. "Who knows?" one of them said, his tone nonchalant. "Volk''s survived it this long. Maybe he''s tougher than the rest of us. Or maybe he''s just too stubborn to die. As long as it works, it works¡­ Haha!" Another bout of laughter rippled through the group, but this time, Grounad couldn''t help but chuckle along with them, even though he still didn''t fully understand. As the laughter died down, Volk turned and glanced over his shoulder at the group, his expression calm and unreadable. Without saying a word, he continued forward, leading the Dreadmaw Clan deeper into the tunnel. The air grew colder as they descended further into the dungeon, the stone walls narrowing around them. The path ahead was dark, but there was a strange, faint light at the far end of the tunnel, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Grounad walked alongside the others, his thoughts still racing, but now mixed with a strange sense of awe. Volk... contaminated by hazardous magic particles? It was beyond anything he had ever heard of, but somehow, it made sense. He didn''t know that Orcs are naturally not able to survive in harsh conditions, after all, they came from another dimension, but due to the future generations being born here, they naturally got those hazard particles, and Volk must be the most abnormal Labor Orc. That''s what Grounad thought. However¡­ The way the monsters had fled¡ªit wasn''t natural. Volk, it''s like he had something about him, something dangerous, something that even the monsters feared, and he felt that the hazardous magic particles are not cut to it. But he is also not sure. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the end of the tunnel. The light grew brighter, and the air grew heavier with the presence of magic. The Dreadmaw Clan stopped, standing at the mouth of the next chamber, with their eyes scanning the area. Volk stood at the front, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression unreadable. He didn''t say anything, but Grounad could sense the tension in the cave''s air. This was it. The heart of the tunnel. Chapter 94 - 94: Easy Winged Tiger The air was thick with a strange, pulsating energy as Volk and the others reached the heart of the dungeon. They stepped into a vast chamber, and at once, the sight before them sent a chill through the group. Chack! The place was crawling with unknown magical monsters, each one pulsating with the eerie glow of hazardous magic particles. Their forms were grotesque, twisted by the dark magic that flowed through the very air of the dungeon. L Some had multiple eyes, others bore grotesque claws, and a few floated eerily as if gravity held no sway over them. But in the middle of it all, standing like a dark monarch over this sea of horrors, was a gigantic winged tiger. Its fur shimmered with a strange, otherworldly glow, and its wings were black, stretched wide, casting an ominous shadow over the battlefield. Its eyes gleamed with intelligence and malice, its claws tearing into the stone floor as if it were nothing more than paper. Grrrrrrrrrr¡­ For a moment, the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs and Volk stood still, gazing at the sheer enormity of the growling beast. But what was even more surprising was the reaction of the monsters. Normally, the presence of Volk would send them scurrying away in fear. His body, contaminated with hazardous magic particles compared to other Labor Orcs, usually acted as a deterrent. But now... nothing. The monsters weren''t fleeing. They weren''t even bothered by his presence. "What the hell is going on?" Grounad muttered, his voice low as his eyes darted across the chamber, filled with beasts. Before anyone could answer, the gigantic tiger let out a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the dungeon. GRRROOOOOAAAAARRRRRR!! The sound reverberated through the stone walls, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. Then, in an instant, the tiger pounced forward, slashing into the creatures around it with terrifying ferocity. The monsters, to everyone''s shock, started attacking the tiger in return. Kabang! Kabang! Kabang! The battle that unfolded in front of them was brutal and wild. The tiger''s massive claws ripped through the lesser creatures as though they were paper, but the other monsters also retaliated in kind. Spells crackled in the air, claws and fangs clashed, and the air was filled with the sound of tearing flesh and monstrous roars. It was chaos. Volk and the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs watched, frozen. Yet he didn''t know why, but something inside his head stirred. His muscles tensed as if his body was moving on its own, compelled by some unseen force. Before he even realized it, he charged forward, his weapon raised, and joined the fray, fearlessly. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" he screamed for some unknown reason. The moment Volk''s axe struck the first monster, the dungeon exploded with action. His movements were sharp and precise, each swing of his weapon calculated as it cleaved through the flesh of the magical beasts. The air around him crackled with the residual magic particles, but Volk didn''t care. He was focused solely on the battle. Grounad, Grashk, and the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan would look at each other but also followed suit. Feeling the strange feeling that Volk felt. They charged into the horde of monsters, their weapons flashing as they fought with the efficiency of battle-hardened warriors. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" They moved in perfect sync, dodging and weaving through the attacks of the monsters with practiced ease. Each one of them struck with precision, cutting down the beasts with ruthless efficiency. The winged tiger, however, was a different story. It moved with terrifying speed, its claws slashing through the air with a strength that sent shockwaves through the ground. It let out another deafening roar, with its wings beating fiercely as it leapt into the air, crashing down on a cluster of monsters, crushing them under its massive paws. For a moment, Volk found himself face-to-face with the beast. Its glowing eyes locked onto his, and he could feel the intensity of its malice. But instead of fear, something inside him stirred¡ªa primal rage. "COME OOOO!!!" His grip tightened on his axe, and without hesitation, he lunged at the tiger. His weapon met the creature''s side, but instead of cleaving through it, his axe bounced off the beast''s hide, sending a shockwave through his arms. "Damn it!" Volk cursed, staggering back from the force of the recoil. The tiger growled, baring its massive fangs, before lunging at him. Volk barely had time to dodge as the tiger''s claws slashed through the space where he had just been standing. He rolled to the side, quickly getting back to his feet, his eyes darting around for an opening. "VOLK, WATCH OUT!" Grashk yelled from behind him, his own blade sinking into the flesh of another monster. Volk nodded, focusing on the tiger once more. The battle raged on, but the tiger''s strength, while formidable, couldn''t match the combined might of the Dreadmaw Clan. Each time the tiger tried to strike, an Orc was there to deflect or evade, their coordination honed by years of combat. They struck at the tiger''s legs, wings, and sides, slowly whittling away at its strength. It was a methodical assault, each strike precise and deliberate. Though the tiger was powerful, it was no match for the Dreadmaw warriors working in unison. And soon, the beast began to falter. With a final, mighty swing, Volk brought his axe down on the tiger''s head. KABAG!! The creature let out one last roar before collapsing to the ground, its massive body thudding heavily against the stone floor. The remaining monsters, perhaps emboldened by the tiger''s fall, attempted to attack. But they were weak. Wounded and disoriented, the creatures were no match for the Orcs, who dispatched them with ease. Breathing heavily, S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk stood over the fallen body of the winged tiger, his brow furrowed. He should have felt victorious, but something gnawed at him. Something was wrong. The entire battle had felt... too easy. The others didn''t seem to notice, their faces filled with satisfaction as they wiped the blood from their weapons. Grounad approached Volk, shaking his head in amazement. "That was incredible, Volk. I''ve never fought something like that before." Volk nodded, his expression distant. "Yeah. But..." He trailed off, his instincts screaming that something wasn''t right. He scanned the chamber, but nothing seemed out of place. The monsters were dead, the tiger defeated, and the crystal they had come for stood undisturbed in the center of the room. Yet still, the uneasy feeling in his chest wouldn''t go away. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "It''s nothing." Ignoring the pit in his stomach, Volk turned and made his way toward the crystal. The Dreadmaw Clan watched in silence as he approached the glowing stone, its surface shimmering with power. Without hesitation, he pulled out a dagger, slicing open his palm. Blood dripped onto the crystal, the dark red liquid seeping into its surface. The crystal pulsed for a moment, and then a faint hum filled the air. Volk stepped back, his gaze fixed on the crystal. For now, it seemed that the danger had passed. But even as he watched the crystal absorb his blood, that feeling of unease remained, lurking at the back of his mind. There was something he wasn''t seeing. Something still waiting in the shadows. What could it be and where would it be? Chapter 95 - 95: Body Changes As Volk stood there, watching the last drop of his blood seep into the glowing crystal, a familiar chime echoed in his mind. | Ding! The notification was sharp and clear, cutting through the lingering strange heavy atmosphere in the catacomb. | Mission completed. | Reach and drip some blood first on the newly forming crystal deep in the dungeon within thirty minutes. | Rewards: The host will always be sent to a dimension near where the Nuclear Reactor Vessel will be sent to. | Failure: Death of everyone in the Dreadmaw Clan, including the host. | Status: Completed. | Volk blinked, reading the words over again. Immediately, sigh of relief. Nuclear Reactor Vessel? Solluha''r? What the hell did that mean? He didn''t know. But as long as the reward wasn''t death, he was willing to accept whatever bizarre fate the system had in store for him. The alternative was something far worse. He shook his head, pushing away the gnawing thoughts. Survival was enough for now. Suddenly, before he could ponder further, a sharp shockwave erupted from the crystal. It rippled through the room, knocking a few of the Orcs off balance. Volk''s body tensed, instinctively stepping back, but the strange force tugged at him. He felt... light. Too light. Like his body was no longer tethered to the ground. His boots no longer felt heavy, his muscles no longer weighed down by the usual burden of battle and fatigue. Grashk was the first to notice. His eyes widened, his tusks trembling slightly as he pointed across the room. "Grok''Thar! What is happening to you?" Everyone''s gaze shot to Grok''Thar, who was staring at his hands in confusion and horror. His skin¡ªonce a robust, deep green¡ªwas melting. Or at least, that''s what it looked like. Green liquid dripped from his arms, pooling around his feet. Grok''Thar looked up at Grashk, his eyes wild with panic. "I-I don''t know!" Grok''Thar stammered. His voice quivered with terror. "The same thing happening to you, Grashk!" Grashk''s head jerked down to look at his own hands. His skin, too, was melting¡ªthick, viscous streams of green liquid pouring from his body, forming small puddles beneath him. His muscles quivered as if trying to hold together, but the strange fluid kept leaking out. Volk felt a deep sense of dread rise in his chest. He was breathing heavily, immediately his hand instinctively gripped his weapon. Something was very, very wrong. This wasn''t just the system anymore¡ªhe could feel that something more sinister was at play. He glanced around at the others. Grok''Thar. Grashk. Even Grounad. They were all starting to dissolve, the green liquid spreading across the stone floor like some cursed ooze. "What... what the hell is going on?" Grok''Thar''s voice was panicked, his eyes darting around as if searching for answers in the chaos. "Why is this happening?" One by one, the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs began to shout in confusion. Their voices overlapped in a cacophony of fear and bewilderment. "Why is my skin melting?" one of them shouted, stumbling backward. "I can feel it! I can feel my body slipping away!" another screamed, his voice cracking with terror as the green ooze sloughed off his arms. Even Grounad, who had always been steady and resilient, was losing his composure. His skin, too, was melting away, leaving streaks of green running down his face and chest. He looked to Volk, desperate for some explanation, some reassurance. But Volk had none to give. He could only stare in horror as his own body began to feel the strange sensation, as if something were peeling away from him. Yet no pain. Just... the eerie lightness. For a moment, the tension in the air was unbearable. Orcs¡ªproud warriors of the Dreadmaw Clan¡ªstood frozen, paralyzed by a fear that none of them had ever encountered before. The catacombs that had moments ago been filled with victorious shouts and the sounds of battle now held nothing but the frantic gasps and whispers of panic. Volk''s mind raced. He had fought monsters, faced death countless times, but this¡ªthis was beyond anything he had ever experienced. The system''s messages, the strange power of the crystal, the sudden melting... It all felt like some twisted joke, one that was getting out of hand fast. Volk finally spoke, his voice cutting through the growing chaos. "Everyone... calm down!" His voice was strained, but it held authority. "We need to figure out what''s happening. Keep your heads together!" But the panic in their eyes told him that no words would settle the growing terror. It was as if the very core of their being¡ªthe strength that defined them as Orcs¡ªwas slipping away, replaced by a sensation of helplessness they had never known. Volk glanced down at his own body, finally noticing it himself. His skin wasn''t green anymore. The familiar, deep green hue that had defined him for so long... was gone. In its place, there was a pale, almost ashen color, like life had been drained from him. His limbs, while still functional, moved more fluidly, as if a weight had been lifted. The once oppressive heat in the dungeon didn''t bother him, and he realized with a start that he could breathe more easily. "What...?" he whispered, shaking his head, trying to make sense of it all. Then louder, he said, "Why is your skin not green anymore?" The words echoed through the chamber. The other Orcs¡ªstill dripping with the strange liquid¡ªlooked around at each other. Slowly, the realization dawned on them. One by one, they lifted their arms, their eyes going wide as they saw their own pale skin, the green tint that had been a symbol of their heritage, their strength, gone. "Is this some kind of magic?" Grounad muttered, his voice shaking. "What the hell happened to us?" Grashk, his eyes still wide with shock, turned to Volk. "I feel... lighter. I can move faster, but... what does this mean? What have we become?" The air was thick with confusion, but in that moment, another chime echoed in Volk''s mind. | Ding! | The host''s body is now cleansed by an unknown high-level radioactivity. | Level too low to be recognized. | Volk swallowed hard, his throat dry. Radioactivity? His body... had been contaminated all this time? He didn''t fully understand it, but the message was clear¡ªsomething had changed. Something inside them had been altered in ways they couldn''t yet comprehend. He clenched his fists, feeling the strength in his arms, but also the strange lightness that permeated his every movement. It was disorienting, as if his body wasn''t quite his own anymore. The other Orcs looked to Volk, their eyes filled with uncertainty. They had followed him into this dungeon, faced the horrors alongside him, and now they were forever changed. But for better or for worse, that was the question that loomed over them all. "Volk..." Grounad started, his voice hesitant. "What do we do now?" sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk stood silent for a moment. Are they marked? He felt danger. But he knew they couldn''t turn back now. Whatever had happened, it was tied to this dungeon, tied to the strange crystals and the system''s mission. Finally, Volk looked up, his eyes hardening with resolve. "We stand together," he said firmly. Chapter 96 - 96: Different Stories As the remnants of battle faded from the chamber, Volk''s mind began to churn. His thoughts flickered back to Warlock Zenveil, the one he fought with such relentless power. There was something Zenveil had said¡ªsomething that gnawed at him even now. Slowly, he turned to the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, who stood around him, still marveling at their pale, transformed bodies. Volk stepped forward, his voice low but commanding. "Pour some water on your bodies." The Orcs stared at him in confusion. Grok''Thar furrowed his brow, his tusks twitching as if he hadn''t heard Volk correctly. "Water?" Volk nodded once, his eyes steady and unwavering. "Yes, water. Trust me on this." There was a hesitant murmur among the Orcs. Why would they pour water on themselves now, after everything that had just happened? But Volk''s tone left little room for argument. Slowly, a few Orcs unslung their water skins, tipping the cool liquid over their bodies. As the water ran down their skin, something strange began to happen. The pale hue of their skin shifted. Where once the green had been washed away, leaving them almost ghostly in appearance, now the water revealed something else¡ªa clear, light hue, almost luminous, like their bodies were catching the glow of the crystals surrounding them. "Voila," Volk muttered under his breath, watching as the transformation unfolded. The Orcs gasped. Grok''Thar stood stock still, staring at his arms as the light color replaced the sickly pallor they had moments ago. "What... what is this?" he stammered, looking around to the others. Grashk, who was equally astounded, ran his hand over his arm, feeling the smoothness beneath the water as it revealed the glowing hue beneath. "Volk... what''s happening to us?" Volk, wiping the remaining drops from his own skin, shook his head. "I don''t know everything yet. But I remember something Zenveil mentioned before I killed him. Something about the origins of us Orcs." This caught their attention. They had always known themselves as Orcs, warriors born from the earth, molded by battle and survival. The idea of another origin was foreign, unsettling even. Volk stepped forward, his gaze piercing as he asked the question that had plagued his thoughts since Zenveil''s death. "What is the true origin of us Orcs?" The Orcs exchanged uncertain glances. Grok''Thar was the first to respond, his voice deep and gravelly. "The elder said we''re Orcs, Volk. Born from the deep earth, like the stones and mountains. We''ve always lived there, hunted by the Dark Elven Witches and the damned Warlocks. But we were strong enough to survive. When the Elven Witches came to help us, we thrived even more and spread." Volk raised an eyebrow. "Elven Witches, our partners, right?" Grashk nodded vigorously, his massive fists clenching as he spoke. "Aye. Out partners. The Elven Witches¡ªnot like the Dark Elven Witches or those damn Red Elven Warlocks. No, these Elven Witches were different. They saved us. They mixed their blood with ours and gave us the strength to grow." There was a collective murmur of agreement among the Orcs. Their tale of the Elven Witches was well known, passed down through generations. They were a symbol of salvation, of hope amidst the constant struggle for survival. But the simplicity of the tale left Volk unsatisfied. Volk turned his attention to Grounad, who had remained quiet, a thoughtful look on his face. "And what do you think, Grounad? You have a different story, don''t you?" Grounad straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aye. There''s another tale back in my Bloodfang Clan, though it''s not too far from what they said. Long ago, we were hunted by Dark Elven Witches who sought to enslave us. But the Elven Witches¡ªthey weren''t just saviors. They were... something more." Volk narrowed his eyes. "Go on." Grounad sighed, rubbing his chin as he recalled the legend. "The Elven Witches came from a land beyond the stars. Not just any ordinary Elves, but a race that had fled from something even darker than the Warlocks and their kind. "When they found us¡ªOrcs¡ªthey didn''t just mix their blood with ours. They gave us part of their essence, their magic. That''s why we''re so strong, why we''ve always had this connection to the earth and magic. It''s in our blood. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "But not all of us accepted that gift willingly. Some fought against it. They said it made us weaker, that we should''ve stayed pure." The Orcs surrounding them murmured in surprise, exchanging curious glances. The story was familiar, yet Grounad''s version had a layer of depth they hadn''t heard before. The Elven Witches were not just saviors¡ªthey were the key to their strength, to their very existence as a race¡ªthey believed. And not something like Grounad had said. Volk''s brow furrowed. "And the Grum-gar form? Where did that come from?" At this, both Grounad and several of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs straightened, their faces darkening. Grashk was the first to speak. "The Grum-gar form came from a different time. It was because we ate the flesh of Ogres. They say the first Orcs to consume an Ogre gained their strength. But it cursed us too. Every time we call on that power, we lose a bit of ourselves to it." The others nodded in agreement, recounting the same story that had been told for generations. The Grum-gar form was both a gift and a curse¡ªa transformation that allowed them to tap into unimaginable strength, but one that came at a price. It had always been a part of their history, something they accepted without question. But Volk''s eyes narrowed. There was something about all these stories that didn''t sit right with him. "You''re all wrong," he said suddenly, his voice cutting through their conversation. The Orcs fell silent, turning to look at him in confusion. "What do you mean, Volk?" Grounad asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. Volk clenched his fists, his mind racing back to his encounter with Warlock Zenveil. "Zenveil told me something before he died. He said that the stories we know about our origins are lies. The Grum-gar form, the Elven Witches... It''s all been twisted." The Orcs exchanged uneasy glances. Their entire identity, their heritage, was built on these stories. For Volk to say they were wrong was a heavy accusation. Volk exhaled slowly, his eyes hardening. "Do you want to know the truth? The real truth? The one Zenveil spoke of before I ended his miserable life?" There was a moment of silence as the weight of his words settled over them. Grounad shifted uncomfortably, while Grashk and the others looked around, unsure of what to say. But the curiosity in their eyes was undeniable. Finally, Grok''Thar spoke up, his voice low and uncertain. "What is the truth, Volk?" Volk smirked darkly, his hand tightening around the hilt of his weapon. "The truth... is far darker than any of us could imagine." He paused, letting his words sink in. "But if you want to know the real origin of the Orcs, I can tell you why the skins we have now were different." The Orcs were silent, and one could see their faces were reflecting a mixture of anticipation and fear. The stories they had grown up with, the identity they had built their lives around, seemed inconceivable. However, they could feel that whatever Volk was about to reveal, it would challenge everything they had ever believed. Volk took a deep breath, locking eyes with each of them in turn. "Do you really want to hear it?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of the unknown. The silence in the room was thick with tension, but slowly, one by one, the Orcs nodded. Volk''s eyes glinted with grim determination. "Then listen closely." Chapter 97 - 97: Origin Skin Volk stood among the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, his voice resonating with an intensity he had just discovered but couldn''t fully grasp yet. "This skin," he said, lifting his arm for all to see, "this is the skin of a true Orc." The Orcs exchanged stunned glances. Their light-colored skin shimmered in the faint glow of the cave, and Volk''s declaration sent ripples of shock through the group. Grok''Thar was the first to react, his eyes wide. "True Orcs?" he muttered under his breath, trying to wrap his mind around it. Grashk, usually stoic, couldn''t hide his amazement. "We came from other dimensions?" Volk nodded, his eyes dark and thoughtful. "That''s what the Warlocks did. They summoned us from other worlds. But our race was too strong for them. To weaken us, they took our horns¡ªour source of power. Without our horns, we couldn''t awaken our true form. And the proof of that was we are often called the Hornless Orc tribe." The Orcs listened, and then their faces changed; their eyes widened, and their mouths opened wide. However, immediately, in a split second, it was replaced with an expression painted with a mixture of curiosity and anger. One of the Orcs, his voice a low growl, asked, "What about the Grum-gar form? What is it really?" Volk''s gaze drifted to the ground for a moment, then he continued. "The Grum-gar form isn''t what we think it is. It''s a replacement. We used to have something called the Diabolical form, but without our horns, we lost it. The Warlocks replaced it with the Ogre form." At this, several Orcs grunted in frustration. The idea that their form was merely a substitute, an inferior version of something greater, was difficult to stomach. Grashk, his brow furrowed, muttered, "They took our horns, took our strength, and left us with this?" Volk looked at his hands, flexing his fingers carefully. "Maybe this skin... maybe this is how our ancestors looked, before the Warlocks weakened us. Or maybe, after running from the Warlocks and Dark Elves, our ancestors went to hazardous places, causing our skins to turn to hazardous skins." And then, Grashk would add, "and the reason we only survive those places was because of the Elven Witches? The elves who turned into elves that cannot go or survive in other hazardous places?" Volk would nod. There are normal elves here, but there are elven witches too, which are entirely different. The difference is that the elves have adapted to the hazardous magic particles of the forest; the more hazardous magic they possess, the stronger they become. However, the elven witches are born, but not adapted, to the hazardous magic particles of the forest. They are the ones who help the Orcs hide from being hunted, and in exchange, the Orcs work for them until they become one in their way of living. Suddenly, a loud chime rang in Volk''s mind. | Ding! | Mission: Survive the first wave of the beasts. | Rewards: Automatic cleansing of the Dreadmaw Clan. | Failure: Hazardous Skin. | Volk blinked, the words flashing before his eyes. Automatic cleansing? He had an idea what it meant, like cleaning other Dreadmaw Clan members, right? But there was no time to think. A deafening trumpet roar echoed through the tunnels, sending shivers down the spines of every Orc present. AAAAAAANNNNGGGHHHHH!!! The ground trembled beneath their feet as the sound grew louder, more menacing. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! Grounad''s voice cut through the tension, filled with urgency. "Volk, to fuse with this catacomb and survive the travel, we need to protect you! We have to fight these beasts¡ªto the death if necessary!" Volk, bewildered, could hardly process Grounad''s words before a massive shadow loomed at the entrance of the cave. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A gigantic magical elephant emerged, its skin crackling with magical energy. Its tusks were razor-sharp, and its eyes burned with an otherworldly glow. This was no ordinary beast. Grounad gasped, recognizing it immediately. "That''s a Magruphants! A level five, as strong as one of our peak Mag''Durotan Orcs!" The Dreadmaw Clan braced themselves, weapons ready, but something felt off. The Magruphants were supposed to be nearly unstoppable, yet as it charged, something seemed... different. The massive creature charged with a speed they didn''t expect. Its huge feet pounded against the ground, creating tremors that knocked smaller rocks loose from the cave walls. "RRROOOOAARRRR!" the elephant bellowed, its sound echoing like a thunderstorm in the enclosed space. One of the Orcs, expecting to be thrown back by its sheer momentum, grabbed hold of the creature''s tusk as it sped past. The Orc, whose name was Druk''Kar, held tight, and to everyone''s shock, the massive beast came to a stop. "What the...?" Druk''Kar gasped, his face contorting in disbelief. "How... how am I going to stop it?" The other Orcs, including Volk, stared, completely dumbfounded. "It''s an elephant! It should be stronger than us!" Grashk exclaimed, stepping forward with wide eyes. Volk narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. "Something''s wrong... Handle it alone, Druk''Kar. We need to see how strong our new form is." Druk''Kar swallowed nervously but nodded. He took a deep breath, immediately his muscles tensed as he gripped the Mag''Durotan. With a sudden burst of strength, he threw the elephant across the cave. "RRRRROOOOOAAARRR!" the beast let out another ear-splitting roar, this time in pain as it crashed into the wall with a loud thud. The ground shook as dust and debris rained down from the cave ceiling. The other Orcs stood frozen, their mouths agape. Volk and the others were speechless. How could Druk''Kar have done that? He was only third stage Mag''Durotan! Third stage! How did he throw one of the Magruphant easily when it should be comparable to one of them in peak, which is Fifth Mag''Durotan stage! "How did he...?" Grashk whispered, staring at the scene in awe. Volk, still watching the downed elephant, muttered, "Have we... become stronger?" The Magruphant staggered to its feet, shaking off the rubble. Its eyes burned with raging fury, and it let out another roar, preparing to charge again. "ROOOOAARR!" it bellowed, louder this time, the rage palpable in its voice. But before it could make its move, another Orc, a smaller one named Rak''gor, stepped forward. His eyes burned with determination. "Let me deal with it next." Without waiting for a response, Rak''gor charged at the beast. Despite his smaller stature, he moved with incredible speed, with his feet barely making a sound against the stone floor. The Magruphant trumpeted in anger, but Rak''gor was already on it. He leaped into the air, delivering a flurry of strikes to the beast''s neck and chest. Each blow landed with mean destruction, and the massive elephant staggered under the assault. In mere moments, Rak''gor put the beast on the ground, his fists and feet a blur as he relentlessly pummeled the creature. And not long, the elephant let out one final trumpeting wail before collapsing in a heap, utterly defeated. "RRRRUUUUUHHHHHHHH..." the elephant moaned in its final moments, the sound of its defeat resounded through the whole catacombs. The Orcs stood in stunned silence, watching the scene unfold. Rak''gor, panting but uninjured, stepped back, his fists clenched at his sides. "How did you...?" one of the Orcs asked, unable to finish the question. Rak''gor shrugged, still catching his breath. "I don''t know... I just felt... stronger." Volk exchanged glances with the others, their confusion mirrored in each other''s eyes. Whatever had just happened, it was clear that they had changed¡ªbecome something more. But there was no time to reflect. From the dark recesses of the tunnels, a new sound emerged¡ªthe rumbling of footsteps, the roars of unknown magical beasts, growing louder and closer with every passing second as they stood there and wait. Grounad, his face pale, turned to Volk. "They''re coming..." Volk drew his weapon, with his heart pounding. Chapter 98 - 98: New Orcs The ground rumbled beneath their feet as the sound of approaching beasts grew louder. Tugudug! Tugudug! Tugudug! The tunnel was alive with anticipation, the very walls vibrating with the energy of the coming battle. The Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan, now standing shoulder to shoulder, prepared to meet the onslaught head-on. "READY! DREADMAW CLAN!" Their faces were lit with the thrill of combat, and their eyes burned with intensity. Suddenly, as if on cue, the deafening roar of the approaching horde reached them. ONGGAAARRRRGGG!! RANGGGAAAANNGRGG!! AAARRNNNGGGHH!!! Magical beasts, pulsating with arcane energy, spilled from the shadows of the catacomb. The Dreadmaw Clan Orcs could see their forms were twisted, monstrous creatures with glowing eyes, sharp claws, and crackling energy flowing through their bodies. Some were large enough to rival the elephants they had fought earlier, while others slithered, their bodies trailing magic like smoke. The Orcs raised their weapons in unison, and a single battle cry tore through the air like a thunderclap. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!" The cry echoed throughout the cavern, a sound so primal that even the beasts seemed momentarily staggered by the sheer force of it. Volk, standing among them, clenched his fists and prepared to leap into the fray. But just as he was about to move forward, Grashk grabbed his arm, his voice urgent. "Volk! No! You''re fusing with the catacomb, remember? You are the target. Just defend yourself if ever some of them pass through. Let us handle this." Volk hesitated for a moment, his instincts screaming at him to fight. But then he nodded, stepping back as the other Orcs surged past him, weapons gleaming. "Go," Volk muttered, "show them what true Orcs are made of." And then, like a flood of fury and muscle, the Dreadmaw Clan charged forward into the heart of the beast horde. Bone clubs clanked, and shields smashed as the two forces collided in a symphony of chaos. ¡­ The battle was like nothing Volk had ever seen. From his vantage point of the whole center of the catacomb, he could see everything¡ªthe wild movements of the beasts, the calculated strikes of the Orcs, and the strange, otherworldly glow of the catacomb''s magic swirling around him. At first, the Orcs seemed taken aback by the sheer ferocity of the magical beasts. The creatures were relentless, their attacks imbued with chaotic magical energy, beams of arcane light flashing through the air. Grashk narrowly dodged a strike from one of the larger beasts, its talon-like claws crackling with energy as it slashed through the air. Grok''Thar, locked in a struggle with a beast twice his size, grunted, "These beasts... they''re strong!" But as the Orcs began to push back, something unexpected happened. One of the beasts, a wolf-like creature with glowing fur, snapped at Grashk, its jaws crackling with electricity. The moment the beast''s teeth made contact, the energy dissipated, as if absorbed into Grashk''s body. He stood there, wide-eyed for a moment, and then a slow, confident grin spread across his face. "Their magic... it''s useless!" Grashk shouted, his voice booming with excitement. The other Orcs, hearing this, began testing the waters. More beasts lunged at them with their magical abilities, only to find that their attacks did little more than tickle the hardened Orc skin. Orc after Orc shrugged off magic-infused blows, their laughter growing louder with each failed attempt from the beasts. One Orc, who had been hit by a bolt of energy that would have incinerated any lesser being, turned to his comrade with a grin. "I barely felt that!" Another Orc, who had just cut down a beast with a single swing of his axe, bellowed with laughter. "This is amazing! We''re unstoppable!" The Dreadmaw Clan quickly shifted from cautious fighting to full-on exhilaration. Their movements became more fluid, their strikes more precise, as they realized just how resilient they had become. What had started as a grueling fight for survival had turned into an all-out slaughter, and the Orcs reveled in it. Grashk, cleaving through another beast, looked over at Volk and shouted, "They can''t hurt us, Volk! These beasts are nothing!" Volk watched, his fists clenched at his sides, the tension within him slowly dissipating as he saw his warriors in action. The Orcs fought with such ferocity and joy that it was hard not to feel the same surge of adrenaline. For the first time in a long while, Volk allowed himself to smile. "Is this the power of the new skin?" ¡­ The Orcs tore through the beast horde like a tidal wave of muscle and steel. Each time a beast lunged at them with fangs or claws crackling with energy, it was met with a counter-strike that left it bleeding on the cave floor. Axes swung, swords stabbed, and with every downed beast, the Orcs grew more and more confident. "Look at that one!" Rak''gor shouted, pointing at a massive bear-like beast that had tried to ambush them from the side. "It thought it could sneak up on me! Ha! Foolish creature!" With a mighty swing of his axe, Rak''gor cleaved the beast''s head clean off. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Grok''Thar, wiping blood from his blade, grinned at Grashk. "I never thought fighting could be this fun!" Grashk, breathing heavily but still grinning, nodded. "It''s like we''ve been reborn. Stronger, faster... I''ve never felt anything like it." One of the smaller Orcs, still catching his breath after slaying a beast twice his size, added, "I didn''t even break a sweat! Did you see the way that thing tried to claw me? Hah! Weak!" The Orcs shared laughter, their voices echoing off the walls of the cave. The tension of the battle was gone, replaced with camaraderie and the thrill of victory. They slapped each other on the back, recounting their kills with pride. "That one tried to bite my arm off!" an Orc said with a chuckle, flexing his arm as if to show how unscathed he was. "I saw it! Looked like it was chewing on a rock!" another Orc added, his laughter loud and contagious. Even Volk, standing at the back, felt the weight of the situation lift. His warriors had not only survived¡ªthey had thrived. Whatever had happened to them in the catacomb, it had made them stronger, more resilient than ever before. It wasn''t just about survival anymore. This was a revelation. They had been granted new strength, new power, and they were using it to carve a path through their enemies with ease. --- As the last of the beasts fell to the ground, the Orcs erupted into cheers, their weapons raised high in triumph. They gathered together, sharing stories of their exploits with wide grins and hearty laughs. Rak''gor, his voice booming, shouted, "We''ve become legends this day!" "We could fight anything now! Bring us more!" another Orc yelled, pounding his chest with pride. "Magical beasts? Bah! They''re nothing to us now!" Grashk declared, his voice full of pride. The atmosphere was vibrant, alive with the energy of their victory. The Orcs celebrated openly, their voices filling the cave like a storm. But just as the cheering reached its peak, a single voice cut through the noise like a dagger. A deep, unfamiliar feminine voice echoed from the shadows, chilling in its calmness. "A new kind of Orcs?" Chapter 99 - 99: Captured Earlier, before all these, the Dreadmaw Clan had settled into what was supposed to be a period of uneasy waiting. Deep within the ancient stone chambers, where the air was thick with dust and the scent of old earth, the older members of the clan had gathered together, attempting to maintain a calm front. Their mission had been simple: stay hidden, wait for the conflict between the Red Elven Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches to run its course, and then return home when the skies were clear. But the Labor Orc named Volk seemed to have other plans. The younger generation of the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, restless and itching for action, followed their leader Volk with a mixture of excitement and confusion. They sprinted down the winding tunnels, their boots thudding loudly against the stone, trying to keep pace with Volk''s massive strides, leaving their wives behind. His body radiated purpose, and his eyes burned with determination. But no one knew where he was leading them. "Why are we running?" one of the younger Orcs gasped, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he struggled to keep up. "I thought we were just supposed to wait," another chimed in, his voice tinged with panic. "We were supposed to stay here and lay low!" Despite the growing uncertainty, they continued to follow Volk deeper into the catacombs, moving farther from the safety of the main clan gathering. The path grew darker, narrower, and more treacherous, as if they were descending into the bowels of the earth itself. ¡­ Meanwhile, back at the catacomb''s main chamber, the remaining Dreadmaw Clan Orcs and Elves were left with the unsettling realization that their protectors were gone. They huddled together in the dim light, exchanging anxious glances. The older Orcs, their muscles once bulging with strength but now weakened by years of battle, sat in silence, suppressing their physical energy to conserve it for them to stay in the dungeon. Solluha''r, Volk''s elven wife, left behind too, as Volk didn''t ask her to come with him. Her pale skin, smooth and silken like moonlight, was in stark contrast to the rough, battle-worn skin of her Orc kin. She had a slender, willowy frame, with silvery green hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her eyes, deep pools of emerald green, were filled with worry as she watched her husband''s retreating figure. "Volk¡­" Solluha''r whispered under her breath. But her voice, fragile like a leaf caught in the wind, was drowned out by the clamor of boots and heavy breathing. She didn''t understand. Why had Volk suddenly led the others away? What had changed? They were supposed to hide in the catacomb until the war between the Red Elven Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches had subsided. It was a strategy they had all agreed upon. And yet, Volk had chosen to run, to take the younger members of the clan with him, leaving the older and weaker Orcs, as well as the Elven allies, behind. Confusion swirled in her mind, but she pushed it aside. Her loyalty to Volk, to the Dreadmaw Clan, outweighed her doubts. She tightened her grip on the short sword at her side and pressed forward. The Elves tried to focus on defensive spells to reinforce their surroundings to protect themselves from the beasts. "Do you think they''ll come back?" one of the Elves asked, her voice shaky. "They have to," another replied. "My husband says he believes in Volk." But as the words left her lips, a strange tremor rippled through the ground beneath their feet. The walls of the catacomb groaned as if the very stones were waking from an ancient slumber. The air turned cold, and an oppressive darkness crept into the chamber, heavy and suffocating. Solluha''r had barely made it back to the main chamber when she felt it¡ªa pulse of magic, dark and malevolent, like a storm brewing on the horizon. She halted in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. "Something''s coming," one of the older Orcs muttered, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the shadows that now engulfed the room. Then, without warning, a figure emerged from the blackness. It was a woman, or at least the shape of one. Her body was wrapped in a cloak of shadows, and she rode upon a massive creature whose form was impossible to discern in the dim light. Its eyes, glowing crimson, burned like the fires of the underworld, and its growls reverberated through the catacomb, causing even the bravest Orcs to flinch. The figure raised a hand, and her voice rang out, cold and sharp as the edge of a blade. "Capture them." The moment the words left her lips, more shadows began to seep from the ground. They writhed and twisted, taking on the form of dark figures¡ªwarriors of shadow, their weapons gleaming with ethereal energy. The older Dreadmaw Orcs and Elves sprang to their feet, weapons drawn, ready to defend their clan. Sollahha''r stood at the forefront, her heart racing. She drew her sword, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. Her mind was focused on the safety of her people, but something dread crept into her soul. Volk¡­ where are you? Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Before anyone could react, the shadow warriors lunged forward. The clash of steel rang out through the chamber as Orcs and Elves alike fought back with every ounce of strength they had left. But they were no match for the creatures of darkness. The shadow warriors moved with unnatural speed and grace, their forms shifting and flowing like water, making them nearly impossible to strike. One by one, the Dreadmaw Clan fell, their weapons slipping from their hands as the shadow warriors overwhelmed them. And as each one fell, a dark mark, a tattoo of swirling black ink, appeared on their skin. The magic that bound them was ancient and powerful, a curse that sapped their strength and left them helpless. Sollahha''r fought with everything she had, her blade cutting through the air with precision, but even she could not withstand the onslaught for long. The shadow warriors surrounded her, their glowing red eyes fixed on her as they moved in for the kill. Just as she thought all hope was lost, she felt a pulse of magic¡ªstrong and familiar. Volk. He was still out there, still fighting. As the shadow warriors closed in, Solluha''r dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together, her voice barely above a whisper. She prayed, not to any gods, but to Volk. "Where are you, Volk?" she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. "Please¡­ come back to us." The shadows loomed closer, and just before they struck, Solluha''r felt a surge of warmth deep within her chest. It was faint, but it was there¡ªa connection to Volk, a bond that had not been severed despite the distance between them. It gave her hope, even as the darkness swallowed her whole. --- Far away, deep in the twisting corridors of the catacomb, Volk felt it too. The tug on his soul, the faint whisper of his wife''s voice in his mind. He didn''t know what had happened back in the main chamber, but he knew one thing for certain: his clan needed him. His eyes narrowed, and he gripped his axe tighter. There was no turning back now. He still have a mission to do or the Dreadmaw Clan would be turn into pieces. Chapter 100 - 100: Dark Elven Witch Now, in the present, Volk stood frozen in his spot. However, his eyes narrowed intently as he scanned the shadows for the source of the voice. It was feminine, smooth and sounded like there was a tone of mocking in it, yet with an underlying tone of authority that made the hairs on his neck stand up was combined with it too. He turned, immediately, his body tensed, and his gaze settled on a figure emerging from the darkness. She was tall and slender, her skin a deep, dusky hue that seemed to drink in the dim light of the catacomb. Her eyes gleamed with an eerie glow, a cold and calculating intelligence dancing in their depths. Her hair, long and as dark as midnight, cascaded down her back, interwoven with silver strands that shimmered like stars caught in the night sky. She wore a flowing, obsidian cloak that seemed to ripple like living shadows, and beneath it, her armor clung tightly to her lithe frame, forged from some strange, dark metal that seemed to hum with latent magic. But what stood out most was the massive black wolf beneath her, with its eyes glowing dangerously with the same eerie light as its rider''s. Its fur was as dark as coal, rippling with muscle and power, and each slow step it took sends a low, ominous rumble through the ground that could be felt in the whole catacomb. The beast''s fangs gleamed menacingly, long and sharp, ready to tear through flesh. The woman gazed at them with an almost detached curiosity, as though they were nothing more than an amusing distraction. "What kind of Orcs are you?" she asked, with a soft and calm, dangerous purr. "Why are your colors different? I''ve never seen a color like yours. I''ve seen green, red, yellow, brown, etc., depending on the radioactive places or habitats they are hiding in. But I''ve never seen anyone like yours?" Volk said nothing, his instincts screaming at him that something was very wrong. He kept his eyes locked on her, the grip on his axe tightening. Before he could respond, a movement stirred behind the woman. A group of Orcs and Elves emerged from the shadows, their bodies adorned with intricate tattoos that glowed faintly in the darkness. The designs twisted and coiled around their arms and faces, pulsing in time with the magic in the air. Their expressions were stern, their postures protective as they flanked the woman on both sides. Volk''s breath caught in his throat. The tattoos... he recognized them Not just the tattoos, but the Orcs and Elves too. They looked very familiar. However, the shock didn''t come from the glowing ink alone. It was the faces. The Orcs and Elves clothings¡­ The clothes¡­ far too familiar. Grounad, standing next to Volk, gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You..." Volk turned to Grounad, his brow furrowing. "What''s wrong?" Grounad''s voice was low, shaky. "They... they''re from Bloodfang Clan, the same Bloodfang clan I came from." Volk blinked, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. "What?" Grounad swallowed hard, his eyes darting between the Orcs and Elves standing beside the woman. "That''s Grommash," he said, nodding toward a hulking Orc with deep scars running across his chest. "And that one is Murok." He pointed to another Orc, smaller but with a vicious gleam in his eye. "These... these were once our brothers." Volk''s jaw clenched, a knot of dread forming in his gut. "The Bloodfang Clan? But they were¡ª" "Dead," Grounad finished, his voice grim. "Or so we thought. But no, now I could see that they... they''ve joined her." His eyes flicked to the woman on the wolf. "A Dark Elven Witch." Volk''s heart skipped a beat. "What?" Grounad''s face was pale, his voice barely above a whisper. "She... she''s one of the Dark Elven Witches. They don''t have horns like the other normal dark elves but they are far more dangerous to the point that they erased all the dark elves. They are the ones who... enslave others too." The woman''s lips curled into a small smile, as if pleased by their recognition. "Right," she said, her voice carrying a chilling authority. "But still, I ask again, what kind of Orcs are you? Your skin... your strength. It''s different." Her eyes gleamed with curiosity as she examined them, her gaze lingering on Volk, studying him as if he were a puzzle she was eager to solve. Before Volk could respond, one of the Orcs standing beside her, a towering brute with a vicious snarl, spoke up. "They are the Dreadmaw Clan," he said, his voice rough and filled with disdain. He pointed at Grounad, his sneer widening. "And he... he''s from the Bloodfang Clan too. A traitor. He abandoned us to join them." The woman''s eyebrows lifted in surprise, her smile widening. "Dreadmaw Clan, you say? I thought I had already... tamed them." The Orc beside her nodded. "They were in the back, following. They are the weakest of the Hornless Orcs tribe, my lady." The woman tilted her head slightly, her eyes never leaving Volk. "Weakest, you say?" The Orc turned toward her, bowing slightly. "Should I fetch them for the master, my lady?" The respect in his voice was palpable, as though he would lay down his life for her without hesitation. Every movement, every word from the Orcs and Elves around her radiated loyalty and devotion. Volk notices their movements and as they stare at her, like shadow slaves, they are silent but the same time they are watchful too, ready to act on her command. The woman''s smile grew, her eyes glinting with a dangerous amusement. "No need." Then she continued, "Why are their skins not green like the others?" The Orc lowered his head respectfully and said, "I''m afraid I don''t have any idea, my lady¡­" The dark elven witch, still smiling, suddenly paused, and her smile faded as she looked at the Orc and asked, "You don''t know?" The Orc, clearly perspiring, nodded hesitantly. But then, immediately, his head fell to the ground with a thud, followed by his muscular body. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Kabang! Suddenly, the dark elven witch ordered the others behind her, saying, "Get them!" She added, "Just... beat them down. Weaken them." Her voice was casual and dismissive. "Once they''ve been softened up, I can tame them myself." Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as his mind began to ran a speed of thoughts. He couldn''t allow this. He couldn''t let her take them. As she finished speaking, she turned her gaze away for just a moment, her focus shifting to the Orcs behind her, clearly expecting them to obey. It was that moment that Volk seized. Without a second thought, his hand shot out, gripping the handle of his axe. He swung with all his might, hurling it through the air toward the woman, the blade spinning end over end, a blur of deadly steel. For a split second, time seemed to slow. The woman''s eyes widened, with her mouth opening in surprise. The Orcs and Elves around her tensed, some reaching for their weapons, others gasping in shock. The axe hurtled through the air, its deadly arc aimed straight at her chest. And then¡ª Chapter 101 - 101: One Sided beatdown Volk''s axe sailed through the air with deadly precision, spinning toward the Dark Elven Witch as if it were a force of nature. But just as the blade was about to meet its target, something unnatural happened. Washileak! A thick, gnarled branch¡ªblack as midnight¡ªshot out from the ground and wrapped itself around the handle, halting the axe mid-flight. Grooaakk! The wood groaned, cracking under the sudden weight of Volk''s swing, but held firm. Volk''s eyes widened in surprise, but the moment of hesitation didn''t last long. With a growl that echoed through the catacombs, "AARRRGGGHH!!" he shot forward, his massive frame blurring with the speed of his movement. His hands gripped the handle of his axe again, and with a single powerful yank, he ripped it free from the grasp of the black branch, snapping it in half as if it were nothing but a twig. Without missing a beat, Volk brought the axe down toward the Dark Elven Witch, aiming for her head. BANG! The force of the blow was enough to crack stone, but just as the blade was about to connect with her, it stopped. An invisible forcefield, shimmering faintly in the air, held the axe mere inches from her face. CLAAAASSSSSKK!! "Huh?" Volk grunted, his brow furrowing in confusion. The Dark Elven Witch smiled, a smug, condescending grin that made Volk''s blood boil. But Volk wasn''t done yet. His new skin, his newfound strength¡ªit all surged through him in that moment, pushing him beyond his limits. With a roar of fury, "RAAAAAAGGHHH!!" he slammed the axe down again, this time with all the power his body could muster. Crack! The forcefield shattered like glass, and though the axe never touched the witch, the sheer power behind it alone sent her flying backward. She crashed into the stone wall of the catacomb with a deafening BANG, a cloud of dust and debris rising around her. Her wolf, left alone as its rider was thrown, snarled viciously, its glowing eyes fixed on Volk. Volk landed on the ground with a thud, his boots sending up small clouds of dirt. He stood tall, his chest heaving, and righteously raised his axe high above his head. The battle cry that followed shook the very walls of the cavern. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" The Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, who had been momentarily stunned by the sight of their leader hurling a Dark Elven Witch across the catacomb, snapped out of their stupor. One by one, they raised their weapons high, with their voices joining Volk''s in a thunderous chorus. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" The black wolf, seeing its chance, lunged at Volk, its teeth bared and claws outstretched. But Volk had already seen it coming. With a deft sidestep, he evaded the beast''s charge and, using the wolf''s own momentum against it, grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and hurled it to the side. Kabam! The wolf slammed into a nearby rock formation with a yelp, shaking the stones loose. Before Volk could catch his breath, the tattooed Orcs and Elves that flanked the Dark Elven Witch sprang into action. The Orcs charged, their fists and weapons raised, while the Elves hung back, weaving intricate spells in the air, their hands glowing with arcane energy. The first tattooed Orc came at Volk with a massive war hammer, swinging it down toward his head. Volk parried the blow with his axe, the clash of metal against metal ringing through the chamber. KACHANG!! The force of the impact would have crushed any normal Orc''s arm, but Volk felt nothing more than a slight twinge in his muscles. His new skin¡ªthe strange, almost otherworldly hue¡ªhad made him stronger, tougher. He grinned as he pushed back against the Orc, sending him stumbling backward. Another Orc, this one smaller but quicker, darted in from the side, a wickedly sharp dagger aimed at Volk''s ribs. Volk barely had time to react, twisting his body at the last second to avoid the strike. The blade glanced off his skin, leaving only a shallow scratch where it should have pierced deep. Volk swung his axe in retaliation, catching the Orc in the chest and sending him crashing to the ground with a pained grunt. GUSSSHH!! Meanwhile, the Elves were launching their magical assaults. Bolts of fiery energy and tendrils of shadow shot toward the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, each spell designed to break their defenses. But to the shock of the Elves, the Orcs didn''t fall. Their new skin, resistant to magic in ways they had never experienced before, shrugged off the worst of the attacks. What would have once seared flesh now left nothing more than a stinging sensation. Grashk was the first to laugh, his voice booming as he deflected a bolt of lightning with his shield. "Their magic''s useless! Come on, lads! Show these weaklings what true Orc strength looks like!" The Dreadmaw Clan Orcs roared in response, charging forward with renewed vigor. The battle became a brutal melee, axes clashing with swords, fists meeting flesh, and the sounds of combat filling the air. Volk fought at the front, his axe cleaving through the tattooed Orcs with savage precision. Every swing was filled with the weight of his new power, each blow knocking his enemies back like ragdolls. One of the tattooed Elves, desperate to turn the tide, conjured a massive fireball and hurled it toward Volk. The searing heat of the spell lit up the cavern, and for a moment, it seemed like nothing could stop it. But Volk didn''t flinch. As the fireball neared, he swung his axe in a wide arc, cutting through the magical flames as if they were nothing but smoke. The spell dissipated, leaving the Elf wide-eyed and defenseless. Volk didn''t give her a second chance¡ªhis axe cut through the Elf''s chest, sending her sprawling to the ground. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. All around Volk, the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs were overpowering their foes. Grashk had taken on two tattooed Orcs at once, his massive fists smashing into their faces with bone-crunching force. Grounad, who had been hesitant at first, now fought with a savage intensity, his blade cutting down a group of Elves who had tried to surround him. The battle raged on, but it was clear that the Dreadmaw Clan had the upper hand. Their new strength, their resistance to magic¡ªit had turned the tide in their favor. And as they fought, they reveled in the newfound power coursing through their veins. "Did you see that?" one Orc shouted as he smashed an Elf to the ground. "I took three of them at once!" "Ha! I felt nothing from their magic!" another bellowed, swinging his club at a tattooed Orc''s head. "It''s like we''ve been reborn!" The Orcs laughed and shouted, their voices filled with pride and excitement as they cut down their enemies. The slaughter was intense, but it was also joyous. The Dreadmaw Clan had never felt stronger, more invincible. They were unstoppable. But just as the last of the tattooed Orcs and Elves fell to the ground, with their blood staining the stone floor, the vibrant atmosphere was shattered. A cold, eerie silence fell over the cavern, and Volk turned his head, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. The Dark Elven Witch stood up slowly, her body bruised but very much alive. Her wolf, limping but still fierce, growled beside her. Her eyes, wide with shock, were fixed on Volk and his Orcs. "What... What kind of Orcs are you all?" she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief. Chapter 102 - 102: Declaration Meanwhile, back in the chaos of the present, the tension in the air thickened as the Dark Elven Witch''s curiosity grew into something more sinister. Her eyes, cold and calculating, roamed over the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, now standing defiantly before her, their new strengths barely contained beneath their hardened new skins. Volk could feel her magic stirring, the gathering of power in the space between them. And then¡ªthere, he saw it¡ªa faint glow in her hands, forming ominous magic circles, pulsing with dark energy. "Watch out!" Volk roared, his voice carrying across the battlefield with desperation, but the warning came too late. Without warning, the ground beneath them trembled violently, cracking open as thick, black roots erupted from the earth like serpents. Kragam! They shot upward with terrifying speed, twisting and writhing as they sought to ensnare the Orcs. Kwishick! Kwischick! The roots move with purpose to swallow them, reaching out like the claws of some vengeful beast, trying to drown them in a tide of nature''s wrath. Volk moved swiftly, his massive axe cutting through the air with a sharp whoosh! He swung it in a powerful arc, cleaving through the roots in one clean strike. Thwack! The severed roots writhed and shriveled away, but no sooner had they fallen than more erupted from the ground, thicker and more aggressive. The other Dreadmaw Clan Orcs were quick to follow Volk''s lead. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their weapons¡ªswords, clubs, axes¡ªflashed in the dim light, each swing met with the snap and crack of the invading roots. Yet for every root they destroyed, twice as many would replace it, surging forth like an unrelenting tidal wave. "Hold fast!" Grashk shouted as he smashed his warhammer into the earth, breaking the roots beneath his feet. "Don''t let them trap you!" Despite the relentless assault, Volk noticed something in the witch''s expression¡ªa flicker of surprise, as if she hadn''t anticipated the Orcs'' resilience. Her dark lips twisted into a smirk, though there was a glint of confusion in her eyes. ''These Orcs¡­ they''re stronger than they should be,'' she mumbled. The thought crossed her mind as she watched them fend off her magic with increasing ferocity. Normally, her roots would overwhelm her enemies¡ªlike these hornless Orcs within moments, but here they were¡ªOrcs¡ªslashing and hacking their way through her most potent spells. Volk''s muscles strained as he fought back the roots, his chest heaving with every swing. His new skin, thick and pulsing with power, gave him strength he had never known before. He could feel it in his bones¡ªthe legacy of something ancient, something primal. This was not just a fight for survival; this was a revelation. "Why won''t you just stay down!" the witch hissed through gritted teeth, her voice laced with frustration. She raised her hands again, and this time, the roots responded with even greater intensity, snaking their way toward the Orcs'' legs, trying to pull them to the ground. "Gah!" one of the Dreadmaw Orcs, Thrak, grunted as a root coiled around his ankle, yanking him down with such force that he nearly lost his balance. But he quickly regained his footing, slashing the root away with his jagged blade. "No matter how many roots you summon, we''ll cut them all down!" Volk growled, his eyes blazing with fury as he slammed his axe into the ground, severing a particularly thick root that had shot toward him. The Dark Elven Witch''s eyes widened ever so slightly. This was not how things were supposed to go. These Orcs¡ªthey weren''t like the ones she had encountered before. The ones she controlled were brute force and rage, yes, but these¡­ These were something different. Could it be? The Dark Elven Witch flinched. These Orcs had evolved¡ªchanged, somehow¡ªand their strength had increased tenfold. She narrowed her eyes, her expression darkening. "What kind of Orcs are you?" she muttered under her breath. Then, louder, her voice rising with fury and intrigue, "What kind of Orcs are you?!" She took a step forward, with her magic flaring around her like a shroud of darkness. The Orcs didn''t answer her. They were too busy fighting for their lives, breaking free from the black roots that continued to spawn from the ground. But Volk, amidst the chaos, met her gaze with a look of pure defiance. "What are you?" she repeated, but this time, her voice held a note of amusement, as if she had come to enjoy this unexpected turn of events. She flexed her fingers, and the magic circle around her hands glowed brighter, crackling with dark energy. Volk, sensing the danger, prepared himself for another wave of attacks, but before he could react, the Dark Elven Witch began to speak. Her voice rose, filled with venom and a twisted kind of glee. "I am Urza''lin of the Dark Elven Witches!" she declared, her voice echoing off the walls of the catacomb. "My mission was simple: capture all the Elves and Orcs hiding in these pathetic tunnels, and then drag your worthless hides outside to serve as my pawns in the war against the Red Elven Warlocks!" Her voice grew louder, more intense with every word, filling the chamber with her presence. "But what do I find instead? Something far more interesting¡ªa new kind of Orc! Orcs with power I have never seen before! You were not part of the plan, but now that you''re here, I will capture all of you and make you my soldiers, whether you like it or not!" Her words were punctuated by a surge of magic. The roots swelled again, this time spiraling upward like a massive wave ready to crash down upon the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs. The Orcs braced themselves for the next assault, their weapons at the ready, but something shifted in Urza''lin''s expression. Her eyes flicked downward, and she suddenly noticed something peculiar. The Orcs she had been controlling¡ªthose marked by her tattoos¡ªlay scattered on the ground, defeated but alive. The Dreadmaw Clan had fought them, but they hadn''t killed them. "Hmph." Urza''lin tilted her head slightly, a curious smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You didn''t kill them," she murmured to herself. "Why? Are you holding back? Or are you simply foolish?" After a careful observation, she nodded, ''They only made them unconscious so they won''t turn into Grum-gar form?'' Her eyes glittered with a dangerous idea. She raised a hand, her fingertips glowing with dark magic. "Should I activate their Grum-gar form and watch them tear you all apart instead?" she mused, her voice barely more than a whisper. But then she shook her head, dismissing the thought. "No¡­ no, not yet. I''ll save that for later, when I face the Warlocks. It will be much more entertaining then." Despite her amusement, she could feel a frustration. She had no immediate way to capture these new Orcs¡ªnot while they were in such a heightened state of power. But then, her eyes lit up as another idea struck her. Suddenly, she turned, her gaze locking onto a group of Orcs emerging from the shadows behind her. These were the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs. These were tattooed, their bodies marked with dark runes, their skin gleaming with the same sickly glow as her magic. Urza''lin smiled, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Ah¡­ it seems I won''t need to rely on those roots after all." Volk and the others looked on in confusion as the tattooed Orcs moved into formation behind the Dark Elven Witch, their expressions blank, their bodies stiff with the rigid control of her magic. They were eerily silent, save for the faint hum of dark energy radiating from their tattoos. Urza''lin''s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "I''ll use your own clan against you instead!" And with that, the air around them seemed to grow even colder, as the tattooed Orcs prepared to strike. Chapter 103 - 103: Crystal Shockwave Volk''s axe swung through the air, slicing cleanly through the writhing black roots that erupted from the ground like dark serpents. "Ha!" "Ha!" "Ha!" His muscles strained, sweat beading on his brow as he hacked and slashed with relentless fury. The battlefield was a chaos of tangled roots, Orcs shouting battle cries, and magic crackling in the air like static electricity. "Haaaaaa!!" His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was sharp, his focus singular. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw them¡ªfamiliar figures emerging from the shadows of the catacomb entrance. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he faltered. The axe hung mid-swing, his arms frozen as recognition struck him like a hammer to the chest. The Dreadmaw Clan. The ones he had left behind at the entrance before taking on his mission of the system. And among them, his wife¡ªSolluha''r, the Elven Witch. Her pale skin glowed softly in the dim light, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and defiance. Beside her, other Elven witches stood, their gazes darting around the battlefield in disbelief. "Solluha''r¡­" Volk muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on his axe. His heart twisted, a sudden wave of emotion threatening to overpower him. Why are they here? he thought, panic creeping into his mind. They were supposed to stay safe. Away from all of this. Suddenly, Urza''lin''s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. "Who are the husbands or partners of these Orcs?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity and mockery. "Or are they even truly part of the Dreadmaw Clan?" The words hung in the air like a challenge, and for a moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, Solluha''r stepped forward. Her face was pale, but there was a determined set to her jaw. She walked with grace, despite the weight of fear that Volk could see in her eyes, she was obeying the Dark Elf for some unknown reason. Behind her, Mishina, the wife of Grounad, followed suit, along with several other Elf witches who had been with the Dreadmaw Clan for years. They stood before Urza''lin, their heads held high, though their bodies trembled with the weight of the moment. Urza''lin''s smile widened, her dark eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "And who are your husbands among them?" she asked, her voice dripping with curiosity. For a brief, agonizing moment, there was silence. Then, as if summoned by some invisible force, Solluha''r and the other Elves turned and pointed directly at Volk and the Orcs behind him. Urza''lin''s laughter filled the cavern, echoing off the walls like the cawing of some great, malevolent bird. "Is that so?" she chuckled, her voice filled with mock surprise. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "How delightful. And tell me, why is it that their skin¡­" She paused, her eyes narrowing as she gestured toward Volk and the other Orcs. "¡­is it so different from the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan? Why do they look nothing like the Orcs I''ve seen in other clans?" Solluha''r hesitated, her eyes flicking nervously to Volk. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice came out as little more than a whisper. "I¡­ I don''t know, Master Urza''lin." Urza''lin''s expression darkened at that, her amusement fading into annoyance. Her lips curled into a snarl, and for a moment, Volk felt his blood run cold. Was she going to kill Solluha''r? Would she punish her for not knowing the reason why the skin looked like this? Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, panic rising like bile in his throat. His grip tightened on the axe, his knuckles white. No¡­ no, she can''t. I won''t let her! But then, to Volk''s surprise, Urza''lin''s face softened. She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "So be it," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "It doesn''t matter." Her eyes flicked back to Volk and the other Orcs, and her smile returned, cold and calculating. "But tell me this," she said, her voice growing sharper. "Why do you Orcs and Elf witches fear Dark Elves witch like me? You cower before me, and yet here you stand, defiant. Why?" Volk didn''t answer. He couldn''t. He didn''t trust himself to speak, not when his mind was consumed by thoughts of Solluha''r. His hands moved on instinct, his axe swinging through the air as he continued to slash at the roots trying to entangle them. But his eyes¡­ his eyes never left Urza''lin. He could feel her gaze burning into him, waiting for a response. Yet he refused to give her the satisfaction. Urza''lin''s expression twisted with irritation. She was used to having power over others, to being the one in control, and Volk''s defiance grated on her like sand in an open wound. She watched him, her dark magic still swirling in the air around her, and she seethed at his refusal to acknowledge her. "Answer me!" she snapped, her voice echoing with fury. "Why do you resist? Why do you not fear me?" Still, Volk remained silent, his focus unwavering as he cleaved through another wave of roots. Suddenly, he would freeze. His eyes widened in surprise. The other Orcs around him did the same, their attention entirely on surviving the relentless onslaught. Urza''lin''s face contorted in rage. Her hands shot up, fingers cracking with dark energy, and the roots suddenly stopped moving, as if frozen in time. The battlefield went eerily quiet, save for the sound of labored breathing from both sides. Volk''s muscles tensed as the roots fell away, retreating back into the earth. For a brief moment, the Dreadmaw Clan stood in place, their weapons at the ready, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Urza''lin hadn''t stopped her attack out of mercy. No, there was something more at play here. As the silence stretched, Volk found himself standing still, his breath coming in slow, controlled waves. His heart pounded, but outwardly, he remained calm. Beside him, the other Orcs mirrored his stance, their faces impassive, unbothered. They were not afraid. Not anymore. In Volk''s mind, however, there was only one thought: I don''t need to answer her questions. I don''t need to understand her. Because her life¡­ her life will end here. The thought filled him with grim determination, his body tensing with the anticipation of battle. He was ready. Ready to bring down his axe with the force of a storm, to shatter whatever defenses she conjured, and to bring an end to this nightmare. And then, as if in response to his thoughts, something strange began to happen. Behind him, the crystal that had been pulsating faintly in the background suddenly flared to life. A low hum filled the air, growing louder with each passing second, until the ground beneath them began to tremble. Urza''lin''s gaze snapped to the crystal, her eyes widening in shock and confusion. "What¡­?" Volk''s breath caught in his throat as a massive shockwave erupted from the crystal, a pulse of pure energy radiating outward like the detonation of a bomb. BOOM! The entire cavern shook with the force of the explosion, and everything was thrown into chaos once more. However, the shockwave did nothing. But Volk wouldn''t let this opportunity go! He immediately charged straight at the Dark Elf, disappearing in front of her and reappearing behind her. Chapter 104 - 104: Not working Volk''s grip tightened on the Axe of Dissection, his breathing steady, with his muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. The dark glint of Urza''lin''s eyes had faded, replaced with raw fear as she realized her imminent doom. The Dark Elven Witch stood frozen, her lips parted in shock as Volk loomed over her, his axe poised to decapitate her in one clean, brutal stroke. But then, a desperate voice cut through the tension. "Wait, Volk! DON''T KILL HER!" Grounad''s voice rang out, filled with urgency and panic. "If you do, everyone under her will be killed too!" Volk''s body froze, the blade of his axe hovering just inches above Urza''lin''s slender neck. His chest heaved with exertion, and for a split second, his thoughts warred between revenge and reason. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Urza''lin, still cowering, blinked rapidly, her confusion mirrored by the Orcs behind Volk. Urza''lin slowly began to understand the situation. Her breathing was heavy, and her pale face contorted in shock. She had been so sure of her superiority, so confident in her control. But now? The tides had turned, and she was staring death in the face. "What¡­what are you doing?" she stammered, her voice laced with both fear and confusion. Volk''s gaze flickered to Grounad, confusion furrowing his brow. "Why?" he growled, his voice a low rumble. "Why shouldn''t I end her now?" Before Grounad could respond, Urza''lin, sensing her chance, began speaking rapidly, her tone shifting to one of a cruel confidence, though her body still trembled with fear. "Ah, of course, you don''t understand¡­ that''s why you fear us," she sneered. "The Dark Elven Witches. We are far superior to the likes of you, strange Orc!" Her voice grew louder, more taunting. "You think you can just kill me and be done? You''re mistaken, Orc!" She raised her head, a dark grin spreading across her face as she realized she had an opportunity to turn this moment in her favor. "We Dark Elven Witches are not like the lower-level witches you''re accustomed to. We are bound to those we control. If I die, every single one of the Orcs and Elves I command will die with me! You''ll be signing the death warrant of your entire clan. Your wives, your comrades¡ªthey will fall, one by one, their lives forfeit the moment my life ends." Volk''s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. He didn''t flinch under her words, though they hit him like a punch to the gut. Solluha''r¡­ his people. He couldn''t risk their lives. Urza''lin, seeing the hesitation in Volk''s face, pressed her advantage. "You don''t have a choice, Orc. Surrender now, or see your loved ones perish. My power is absolute! The Dreadmaw Clan, the Elves, everyone here¡ªthey are nothing but my slaves. They were born to serve me, to follow my every command. You are no different." Her voice grew more venomous as she continued. "Look at you. Strong, yes. Defiant, yes. But that won''t change your fate. You will be enslaved, like the rest. You think yourself powerful with that axe and strange skin? However, you cannot defy my magic. I will make you kneel before me, strange Orc!" Volk''s face remained impassive, though his heart was pumping blood so fast. He turned toward Grounad, his voice tight. "What do we do?" He could hear Urza''lin''s taunts, but he refused to let them break him. His thoughts were on Solluha''r, on his people¡ªhe couldn''t fail them. Grounad''s face was pale, his eyes wide with terror. "You¡­ you can''t kill her. But if you knock her unconscious, the bond should weaken enough for us to escape her control." Volk grunted in acknowledgment. He lifted the Axe of Dissection, adjusting his grip on the handle. The killing edge gleamed in the low light, but he flipped it in his hands, preparing to strike Urza''lin with the blunt side. One well-placed blow to the head, and she''d be out cold. But as he prepared to strike, a blur of movement caught his attention. The massive black wolf that had been standing guard at Urza''lin''s side lunged at him with terrifying speed, its jaws snapping shut around Volk''s arm with the force of a vice. Volk snarled in pain, trying to shake the creature off, but the wolf''s grip was unrelenting. Its fangs sank deeper, and it growled menacingly, blood dripping from its jaws. "Damn beast!" Volk roared, his muscles bulging as he tried to wrench the wolf off him. Just as he was about to crush its head with his free hand, something else happened. Black vines, thick and pulsating with dark energy, shot up from the ground behind the wolf. They wrapped around the beast, yanking it back and forcing it to release Volk''s arm. Volk glanced up in time to see Urza''lin standing several paces away, her face twisted in fury. "Damn you, Orc!" she screamed, her voice shrill with rage. "I will make you my eternal slave! And I''ll make sure you watch as I drain the life from your precious Elven witch!" She spat on the ground, venomous words pouring from her mouth. "You and your clan are nothing! Mere pawns to me. Born to serve! Born to die! I am Urza''lin, the greatest of the Dark Elven Witches. You will bow before me, or I will see every last one of your kin suffer in agony." Urza''lin''s power surged, her eyes glowing with dark magic. She began chanting, her hands weaving intricate spells in the air as the black roots surrounding them writhed and pulsed with greater intensity. "I will show you my true power!" she screeched, her voice reaching a fever pitch. "I will break you, Orc!" But something was wrong. Volk watched, his eyes narrowing as Urza''lin''s face shifted from fury to confusion. The magic swirling around her hands flickered, then sputtered. The black roots that had been poised to strike suddenly faltered, retreating back into the earth. "What¡­ what''s happening?" Urza''lin muttered, her voice trembling with uncertainty. She looked down at her hands, which were still raised in the air, but her magic was no longer responding. Volk was surprised, too. What was happening? Normally, the Elves and Orcs under her control should have been moving, but then he saw dark green liquid pouring from their bodies, and he realized what was happening. Boldly, he smiled and took a step forward, his grip tightening on the Axe of Dissection. His heart pounded, but a cold determination settled over him. "What''s the matter, Witch?" Vokn growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You don''t look so powerful now." Urza''lin''s eyes widened in shock as she frantically tried to summon her magic again. "No¡­ no, this isn''t possible. I control them. I control all of them!" But the Orcs and Elves that had been under her command were no longer responding to her. They stood still, their faces blank, their bodies no longer moving at her will. "What''s going on?" Urza''lin whispered, her voice filled with dread. She turned in a slow circle, looking at the battlefield in disbelief. "Why is my control not working? Why aren''t they obeying me?" Volk smiled grimly, taking another step forward. "Your time is up, Witch." Urza''lin''s eyes flickered with desperation, and for the first time since the battle began, true fear settled in her gaze. Chapter 105 - 105: Kill! The cavern was filled with the low hum of dark magic, its oppressive presence radiating from Urza''lin as she prepared another spell, her desperation clear in every strained movement. Her eyes darted to the Orcs and Elves who had once been under her control. The tattoos that had bound them to her will were fading, vanishing like mist in the early morning sun. Suddenly, a voice rang out through the chaos, piercing the air with a mixture of excitement and fury. "VOLK! YOU CAN KILL HER! THE TATTOOS ON THEIR BODIES ARE GONE!" Grounad''s shout echoed across the cavern. Volk''s eyes blazed with renewed intensity. He didn''t need a second reminder. The moment those words left Grounad''s mouth, Volk was already moving, and his massive frame barreled forward like a war tank pouncing on every bullet shot. His Axe of Dissection glinted in the dim light of the catacombs, its edge thirsting for blood. Urza''lin''s eyes widened in terror as she saw the Orc charging toward her, his face a mask of grim determination. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Panic set in, and she frantically began conjuring a spell. Her hands moved in frantic motions, weaving black vines from the ground that shot up like serpents, writhing and twisting through the air, their spiked ends aimed straight for Volk. "YOU DARE CHALLENGE ME, ORC?" she screamed, her voice laced with both fury and fear. The vines surged forward, hundreds of them, thick and pulsing with malevolent energy. But Volk was relentless. He swung his axe with a mighty roar, the blade cutting through the air with brutal efficiency. Swoosh! The first wave of vines was shredded to pieces as his weapon cleaved through them like they were nothing more than overgrown weeds. Black sap sprayed into the air, splattering across the rocky floor as the severed tendrils writhed and died. Urza''lin hissed, her eyes narrowing in fury. She raised both hands now, summoning even more vines. They erupted from the ground in a frenzied storm, thick as trees, lashing out at Volk from every direction. Some wrapped around his legs, others slithered toward his arms, trying to restrain him, to pull him down. But Volk was too strong. "RAAAAAH!" He bellowed, flexing his muscles and tearing through the roots with raw, savage power. His axe cut through them like a whirlwind of destruction, and for every vine that wrapped around him, he shattered two more. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAARR!!!" he shouted. The air was filled with the sounds of cracking roots, Volk''s furious grunts, and the snapping of dark magic. Urza''lin took a step back, sweat beading on her brow. Her breaths were coming in ragged gasps now. She hadn''t expected this¡ªthis brute strength, this unstoppable force. This strange Orc! This strange strong Orc! The magic she had planned to use against the Warlocks, she was forced to expend here, against a single Orc. And still, it wasn''t enough. "I didn''t plan¡­ I didn''t plan to use these on you!" she gasped, her voice trembling with both frustration and disbelief. "These¡­ These were for the Warlocks! You stupid Orc! You should''ve already been crushed by now!" But Volk didn''t stop. He wouldn''t stop. His eyes gleamed with fury, his lips curled in a vicious snarl. Another slash, another vine severed. He advanced on her, step by step, with each movement closing the gap between them. Urza''lin''s heart pounded in her chest, her pulse throbbing wildly as she continued to conjure more vines. Her mana reserves were draining fast. Too fast. She had used so much of it already, not just in controlling the Orcs and Elves but in keeping herself alive. Her plan to enslave them, to use them as pawns against the Warlocks, was slipping through her fingers. Volk''s axe came down again, cutting through another wave of vines. His steps were heavy, each one shaking the ground as he tore through her defenses. "No¡­ no!" Urza''lin''s voice cracked as panic began to consume her. She reached deep into her remaining reserves of magic, pulling every last drop of mana she could muster. The black vines surged up once more, thicker and more twisted than before, their spiked tendrils wrapping around Volk''s arms and legs, trying to slow him down. But Volk wasn''t having it. With a roar that echoed through the entire cavern, he wrenched his arms free, shattering the vines with sheer brute strength. His muscles bulged, his veins popping as he powered through the last of her magic. His axe came down again, smashing the final wall of black roots that stood between him and Urza''lin. Urza''lin stumbled back, her legs shaking, her face pale. She had nothing left¡ªno mana, no strength. Her breaths were shallow, and she could feel her body weakening. "No¡­" she whispered, her voice barely audible now. "This¡­ can''t be¡­" Volk reached her in two strides. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow. Urza''lin''s lips quivered as she realized there was no escape. No more tricks. No more spells. Just the cold, hard reality of her defeat. But Volk didn''t swing his axe for the killing blow. Not yet. Instead, he stared down at her, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "You''ve done enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "It''s time for this to end." Urza''lin blinked, her heart racing. For a moment, she thought he was going to let her live. But then, she saw the shift in his stance, the tightening of his grip on the axe''s handle. He was going to knock her out, just as Grounad had suggested. Just as Volk lifted the axe to strike, there was a sudden, deafening BOOM that rocked the entire cavern. The ground trembled violently, sending shockwaves through the stone walls. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling as the force of the tremor shook the very foundation of the catacombs. Both Volk and Urza''lin stumbled, momentarily thrown off balance by the massive quake. "What¡­ what was that?!" Urza''lin gasped, her eyes wide with terror. Volk steadied himself, his grip tightening on the axe as he surveyed the cavern. The entire space seemed to groan and shift, as if the very earth itself was reacting to the battle. Fissures began to form in the ground, cracks spreading through the stone like veins of destruction. The cavern wasn''t just trembling anymore. It was collapsing. Urza''lin, her breath shallow and frantic, looked around in disbelief. The magic that had been fueling the catacombs, the ancient dark forces she had hoped to harness for her own gain, were turning against her. The entire place was crumbling, the power she had sought to control now spiraling out of her grasp. "Yes¡­" she whispered again, her voice filled with malice, "this¡­ was supposed to happen!" Volk''s gaze was steady, unyielding. He raised the blunt end of his axe one last time, his eyes locked onto Urza''lin. And just as the cavern continued to shake, with the sound of collapsing stone growing louder, Volk brought the axe down toward Urza''lin''s head, determined to end this battle once and for all. But just as his weapon came down, a blinding flash of light erupted from the center of the cavern, and everything went white. Chapter 106 - 106: Crumbling The overwhelming white light consumed everything in sight. For a moment, Volk couldn''t feel the ground beneath his feet, nor the familiar weight of his Axe of Dissection in his hands. It was as though time and space had collapsed into a single point, erasing all sense of direction. His body floated, suspended in the void, with nothing to anchor him. Then, he heard her voice. Urza''lin. Her cold, mocking tone slithered into his mind like a poison, her words echoing in the vast emptiness. "Strange Orc," she began, her voice a low, malicious hum, "you''re stronger than I anticipated. You''ve pushed me farther than anyone has in centuries." The sound of her voice was filled with twisted admiration, the kind that was laced with bitterness and resentment. Volk''s muscles tensed instinctively, though his body still felt paralyzed by the white void that engulfed him. "But of course," she continued, her words growing sharper, "I''ve always been prepared. As an Elder Dark Elven Witch, I''ve lived through ages. Defeat? Ha! That''s a fleeting concept for lesser beings, for those unprepared. I, on the other hand, have always kept an ace in my sleeve." S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk tried to move, tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn''t respond. His frustration swelled as he strained against the invisible bonds holding him in place, his mind racing with fury. He could almost hear the sneer in her voice as she carried on, weaving her sinister narrative. "I never expected my carefully laid plans to be challenged by an Orc," Urza''lin continued, her voice dripping with disdain. "Of all creatures, you, an Orc, have come close to ruining everything. But it matters little now. You see, I always planned for this... for contingencies, for setbacks." She paused, as though relishing in the situation, savoring the power she still held over him. "The spell I''ve just cast," she said with a haughty laugh, "it''s a powerful one, meant for a much different battle. But fate, it seems, has twisted my hand. Now, you and all your clansmen will be scattered across the lower realms¡ªrandom, isolated, and so far apart that you''ll never be able to find each other again." Volk''s heart dropped. He strained even harder, his mind screaming to break free. He couldn''t allow her to do this, couldn''t let her separate them, not when they had just fought to the brink of survival together. "Your wives¡­" Urza''lin''s voice took on a sickeningly sweet tone, "they''ll be sent far, far away. You''ll never see them again. In the random lower realms I''ll send you to, you''ll be nothing more than a lost soul, wandering and searching. By the time you figure out what happened, your precious Elven witches will be nothing more than memories¡ªif you even live that long." Her laughter rang through the white void, cold and echoing, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. "And me? I will take the Elven witches with me, to another lower world, and there, I will bend them to my will. They will serve me as they should have from the beginning. And you? You strange Orcs? You''ll be left with nothing." The white light flickered, and the world began to twist again. Volk''s limbs ached as they finally responded to his will, but it was too late. Urza''lin''s voice was already fading, dissolving into the void. "Goodbye, Orc. You may have won the battle, but I''ve won the war¡­" ¡­ Suddenly, the white light burst away, and Volk''s eyes snapped open. He was lying on the cold, hard ground of the catacombs. The cavernous walls still surrounded him, but something was different. He blinked rapidly, his vision adjusting, trying to make sense of the scene before him. Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and glanced around. The air was thick with dust and the scent of magic went awry. Around him, the other Orcs of the Dreadmaw Clan were stirring, slowly coming to their senses, their groans and murmurs filling the silence. But something was missing. The Elves¡ªtheir wives¡ªwere gone. Panic shot through Volk''s veins like fire. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting across the cavern. Only Orcs remained. The Dreadmaw Clan, Bloodfang Clan, and others, but not a single Elf in sight. Solluha''r, his wife, was gone. Every Elven witch had vanished. "What... what happened?" Grounad''s voice was the first to break the eerie quiet. His face was pale, his eyes wide with disbelief as he clutched his weapon. He looked around frantically, his expression mirroring Volk''s own panic. "Where are they? Where are the witches?" The other Orcs began to rise, confusion and fear gripping them as they realized what had transpired. Whispers filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. "They''re gone." "Where did they go?" "What kind of magic was that?" "What did that witch do?" Volk''s fists clenched at his sides as he stared at the empty space where Solluha''r had been. His heart pounded in his chest, as he tried to think but his head was still groggy. He had heard Urza''lin''s words in the void, her taunting threat still fresh in his memory. "They''ve been taken," Volk growled, his voice rough with rage. The Orcs turned to him, their faces a mixture of anger, confusion, and fear. "Urza''lin... that Dark Elven Witch... she''s sent them to a lower world. We''re all separated now." The Orcs exchanged worried glances, their murmurs growing louder. "To a lower world? What does that even mean?" "Are they alive?" "How do we find them?" Grounad, still pale but now filled with a burning determination, stepped forward. "Volk," he began, his voice trembling slightly, "what do we do now? You''re the strongest among us... you fought her. What do we do?" Volk''s jaw tightened. His mind was racing, searching for answers that weren''t there. He could feel the weight of every Orc''s gaze on him, waiting, hoping for some kind of plan. But his thoughts were clouded with fury and fear for Solluha''r. "We find them," he said at last, his voice low and resolute. "We find our wives. We figure out where she sent them, and we bring them back." "But how?" another Orc called out, his voice thick with desperation. "How do we even begin? We don''t know where they are! This... this magic she used¡ªit''s beyond anything we''ve ever seen!" Volk didn''t respond immediately. He could feel the tension rising in the room, the despair starting to set in among the Orcs. He understood their fear. It was gnawing at him too, threatening to consume him. But he wouldn''t let it. He couldn''t. "Volk¡­" Grounad added, his voice steadier now. But he also didn''t know what to say. A murmur rippled through the group. As much as they wanted to believe in Volk''s words, the reality of their situation weighed heavily on them. Suddenly, in the midst of the murmurs, a soft DING echoed in Volk''s mind. He stiffened, his eyes narrowing as the sound reverberated in his head. It was the same sound he had heard before, back when the strange system had first made itself known to him. A notification. One that only he could hear. Volk blinked! Maybe another mission! Chapter 107 - 107: Cant get out Volk stared at the glowing notification in front of him, the words burning into his mind: | All the elves are safe in the Orzaroth Realm. | For a moment, he exhaled a sigh of relief, his tense muscles relaxing slightly. But then, an uneasy realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart began to race. "If they''re in the Orzaroth Realm¡­ and the system was really telling me that¡­" he muttered, feeling a sudden chill, "Does that mean... we''re not?" The enormity of the situation weighed down on him, his mind racing with questions. His hand tightened around the handle of his axe as his eyes scanned the dark, unfamiliar surroundings. The caverns that once felt like a battleground now seemed like the maw of a beast that had swallowed them whole. Without warning, Volk turned toward the older generation of Dreadmaw Clan Orcs, his voice laced with confusion and desperation. "Are we really in a new realm? Just like that? How did we even get here?" The older Orcs exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight as if weighing whether to tell him the full truth. One of them, a scarred and battle-worn Orc named Grurgan, finally stepped forward, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Aye, young Orc. We are in a new realm. This is how it''s always been, lad." Volk''s brow furrowed. "What do you mean ''always been''?" Grurgan grunted, looking around at the younger Orcs who had gathered, curious and equally unsettled by their current predicament. He began speaking slowly, as though explaining to children. "This catacomb... it''s not just a shelter, nor just some lair where beasts come to fight. No, this catacomb is a conduit¡ªa portal to other realms. But not all catacombs are created equal. "You see, depending on the catacomb''s level, it determines where we''ll end up. Low-level catacombs, like the one we''re in now, send us to lower-level realms." Another elder Orc, an ancient figure named Morulk, chimed in, his voice raspy from age. "It''s true. Our ancestors once used catacombs to escape the Warlocks and the Dark Elven Witches, traveling between realms like the wind. But that was long ago. The warlocks and witches began hunting us down, trying to control the catacombs for their own purposes." Volk blinked, trying to comprehend the gravity of what they were saying. "So... we''re stuck here?" Morulk''s sunken eyes gleamed in the dim light as he shook his head. "Not stuck. Trapped. Until we become strong enough or find another way out, we are bound to this catacomb." Volk''s mouth went dry. His mind reeled with the implications. "The Dark Elven Witch¡ªUrza''lin¡ªshe went with the elves... with my wife! She took all the elves with her! What does that mean?" A murmur rippled through the crowd of Orcs, the gravity of his words sinking in. Grurgan''s expression darkened as he stroked his chin. "If she went with the elves, then that means they''ve been sent to a random realm¡ªseparate from us. I don''t know what realm but it''s absolutely another realm, and we... we''ve been sent to another." Volk clenched his fists, his muscles tensing with a sudden, overwhelming desire to find them. "Then we need to leave. We need to find them and bring them back." But before he could continue, a ripple of laughter broke through the gathered crowd of Orcs. Gurhahahaah! Garhahahhaha! Grahahahaha! It started low, with a few chuckles, but soon grew into full-blown belly laughs. Orcs from all clans¡ªDreadmaw, Bloodfang, Ironhide, and others¡ªjoined in, their deep voices echoing off the walls of the cavern. Volk turned toward them, his expression filled with frustration and confusion. "What''s so funny?" sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. One of the Bloodfang Clan Orcs, a hulking brute with massive tusks, slapped his thigh, barely able to contain his amusement. "You think it''s that simple? Just ''find them''? Just walk out of here like it''s a stroll in the woods?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. Another Orc, this one from the Ironhide Clan, chimed in, his voice booming. "You''re dreaming, young Orc! It''s not that easy to travel between realms, especially for Orcs like us!" Volk glared at them, his rage boiling beneath the surface. "And what do you suggest we do? Stay here forever?" Before anyone could answer, an older Dreadmaw Clan Orc, his skin weathered and his eyes filled with a strange wisdom, stepped forward. This was Ghurn, one of the elders who had seen more battles than most Orcs could dream of. His voice was calm, yet carried the weight of authority. "Young Orc," Ghurn began, his gaze steady and unflinching, "you did well securing the crystal and saving us from that witch. You showed strength and wisdom beyond your years. But now, you must face reality." Volk''s jaw tightened. "And what reality is that?" Ghurn''s expression softened, almost sympathetic. "We are no longer the Orcs we once were. We''ve been changed, transformed by this catacomb and this realm. We''re now considered catacomb monsters." Volk''s eyes widened in disbelief. "catacomb monsters? What does that even mean?" Ghurn let out a deep sigh, looking around at the other Orcs. "It means that we are bound to this catacomb, just like any other creature born within it. We are part of the ecosystem now. Our only hope is to grow stronger, to kill enough of the aboriginals in this realm, and maybe, just maybe, we will be accepted by the realm the catacomb was sent to and we''ll find a way out." Volk''s hands trembled with barely contained rage. "So that''s it? We just fight and kill until we''re strong enough to leave?" The elder Orc smiled grimly. "That''s all. That''s the way of the catacomb. It''s a brutal world, but it''s the only way forward." The other Orcs, younger and older alike, began to laugh again, their deep, guttural voices filling the cavern. Some slapped their knees, others slapped each other on the back, all finding humor in the absurdity of their situation. One of the younger Orcs from the Ironhide Clan, his face still fresh with the fire of battle, grinned at Volk. "You think you''re special because you killed a few elves and a witch? We''ve all been fighting since we were whelps. This is just another realm, another battlefield. Get used to it." Volk''s eyes narrowed as he looked at the sea of grinning faces around him. Despite their words, he couldn''t shake the feeling that something deeper was at play. He knew their laughter was just a defense against the hopelessness that threatened to consume their minds. And yet, deep down, Volk knew he couldn''t give in to despair. He had to find a way to reach his wife and the others. The thought of Solluha''r trapped in some random realm, possibly in danger, gnawed at his very soul. He would not let this be the end. As the laughter died down, Volk stood taller, his eyes burning with desire to get out. "Laugh all you want," he said, his voice low and steady. "But I''m not giving up. I''m going to find them. I''m going to find my wife, and I''m going to bring her back." The cavern fell silent, the echoes of the Orcs'' laughter fading into the darkness. They all stared at Volk, some with amusement, others with curiosity. Ghurn chuckled softly, stepping forward and placing a hand on Volk''s shoulder. "Aye, lad. I''ve seen that look before. You''re not the first Orc to face impossible odds... but maybe, just maybe, you''ll be the one to break them," and then he would laugh out loud again, "hahahahaha!" Chapter 108 - 108: Mission The atmosphere in the dimly lit cavern was heavy with the tension of confusion and frustration. Volk''s mind was thruming towards all the possibilities he could think of as he processed the reality they were now trapped in. The notification that confirmed the safety of the elves brought him brief solace, but it quickly turned into a harrowing realization. If the elves were in another realm, that meant he and the other Orcs were stuck in this one. The unfamiliar surroundings only deepened his dread. Volk, still staring into the distance, clenched his fists and turned to the older Orcs. "Who do we need to kill to be accepted by this realm? Is it the monsters of this catacomb?" His voice was firm, though tinged with desperation. The other Orcs paused, surprised by his question, and for a moment, there was a brief silence. But then, almost in unison, the cavern erupted with laughter. "BWAHAHAHAHAH!" "BRAHAHHAHA!" "KRAHAHAHHAHA!!!" It was the kind of guttural, mocking laughter that grated against Volk''s patience. ''Why are they laughing so much? It''s normal for me to ask, after all; I am a young Orc. But why are they laughing? Are they trying to show that they are elders and superior?'' However, he chose not to dwell and focus on it, after all, these Orcs are hoodlums. Not worth being angry about now as he had more things to think of. Orcs from every clan¡ªDreadmaw, Bloodfang, Ironhide¡ªwere doubling over, clutching their sides, amused by his question as if he had just told the funniest joke in the world. "Hear that, lads?!" one of the Bloodfang Orcs guffawed, slapping his comrade on the back. "This young pup thinks we just need to go kill some monsters! Like it''s that easy!" "Does he think this is some kind of adventure?" another Orc bellowed through his laughter, his tusks gleaming as he grinned wide. "Kill a few monsters, and we''ll be home by supper?" They jeered at Volk, their voices echoing off the cold stone walls of the cavern. The sound was infuriating, their mocking tones digging into Volk''s pride. He stood rigid, his eyes narrowed, as they continued their teasing. "Does he think this is for real?" one of the Ironhide Orcs sneered, his voice thick with amusement. "Is this what the Dreadmaw Clan''s reduced to? Dreamers who think they can just kill their way out of anything?" The chorus of laughter swelled again, each Orc throwing in their jabs, each word grating on Volk''s ears. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, making his blood boil with frustration. This wasn''t a game. His wife was somewhere in another realm, and here they were, laughing as if this was all some kind of cruel joke. Suddenly, the old Orc who had been beside Volk the whole time stepped forward. His leathery skin and the wisdom in his eyes seemed to silence the other Orcs, though his expression carried the same smug amusement. The elder shook his head slowly, as though Volk had missed something obvious. "Young Orc," the old one began, his voice gravelly and slow, "you don''t understand how things work here, do you?" Volk''s jaw clenched as the elder continued, "The monsters in this catacomb? They''re nothing but food for us, lad. They''re weak, pathetic creatures. We could kill them all day, and it wouldn''t make a difference." The elder paused, his eyes gleaming with something between pity and amusement. "If you really want to get out of here, we need something else." Volk raised an eyebrow, his frustration mounting. "What do you mean? What else is there?" The elder chuckled darkly, leaning in closer as if he were sharing a grand secret. "We need someone from outside. Someone from this realm that we are sent to. They need to come in here, be drawn into this catacomb, and become the victim. Only then, once we''ve killed enough of them, will the realm accept us. And let me tell you something, boy... that will take forever." A murmur rippled through the gathered Orcs, some nodding in grim agreement, others chuckling again at the prospect. The elder straightened, the smirk on his lips returning. "So you see, lad, all this talk about fighting your way out? It''s useless. We could wait here for a thousand years, or more, and only then... maybe... we''d get enough of them to leave." Volk''s eyes widened. His mind spun with the enormity of what the elder had just said. Wait? They were supposed to sit here, in this forsaken place, waiting for outsiders to stumble into their trap? His fists trembled with the desire to act, to fight, to do something¡ªanything¡ªother than sit around and wait. "So that''s it?" Volk muttered, his voice shaking with rage. "We just wait here? For who knows how long? Until someone¡ªsomeone¡ªwanders in? And then we kill them and hope it''s enough?" The elder nodded, his expression calm, even satisfied. "That''s it. And don''t worry, lad. The crystal will keep us alive. We''ve got food, water, everything we need. As long as we meet our basic needs, we''ll survive. It might take a long time, but we''ll live." Volk''s heart sank. The reality of their situation crashed over him like an avalanche of solid ice. If this was how catacombs worked, then they were truly trapped. They might be stuck here for eternity, waiting, biding their time, with no guarantee they would ever escape. The thought of being separated from Solluha''r, his wife, for an eternity was unbearable. The elder gave Volk a pat on the shoulder, his expression one of mock sympathy. "Come on, lad. Let''s go hunt. It''s all we can do for now." But just as Volk was about to slump in defeat, a sharp, familiar ding echoed in his ears. A notification appeared in front of him, its glowing text capturing his attention. Ding! | Mission: Challenge and defeat all the remaining Orc Clans to work under the Dreadmaw Clan. | Rewards: Getting out of the Dungeon. | Failure: The Host and the whole Dreadmaw Clan will revert back to green Orcs. | Volk''s eyes widened as he read the words, and for a moment, he stood frozen. His mind began to articulate every so he coukd absorb the implications of the mission. Challenge all the other Orc Clans? It seemed impossible, but the reward... the promise of freedom... it was right there, within reach. Wait¡­ Volk would look around. Their skins. Green? Slowly, a smile spread across Volk''s face. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Not a smile of amusement, but one of sheer desire for beatdown. His grip on his axe tightened, and a fire burned and ignited in his chest. He turned to the elder, who was still chuckling softly to himself, oblivious to what Volk had just seen. Without a word, Volk pushed past him, his eyes scanning the crowd of Orcs, many of whom were still smirking or laughing. "What''s that grin on your face for, lad?" the elder asked, raising an eyebrow. Volk ignored him. He raised his axe high above his head, his voice booming through the cavern with newfound confidence. "What are you all waiting for?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Hunt for me and my Dreadmaw Clan. Now!" The laughter died instantly as the Orcs stared at him, bewildered. Some exchanged confused glances, but Volk didn''t care. He had his mission, and nothing¡ªnothing¡ªwas going to stop him now. "Yes," he whispered to himself, the word barely audible as his smile widened. "If we can''t get out, you all must know who would be under whom¡­" Chapter 109 - 109: Challenge The tension in the cavern was incredibly sharp and one move, all of them felt they would be pushed and crushed. The flickering light of the glowing crystals reflected off the stone walls, casting long shadows over the assembled Orcs. Volk stood at the forefront, his broad shoulders squared, eyes glinting with determination as he faced the other clans. The silence after his declaration lingered in the air like a storm waiting to break. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, like a dam breaking, the other Orc Clans erupted into anger and disbelief. "Work under the Dreadmaw Clan?" A gruff voice from the Bloodfang Clan snarled. "The weakest clan among us?" The Orc who spoke stepped forward, his broad chest heaving, fists clenched in fury. His tusks gleamed as he bared his teeth, clearly enraged at the notion. The Fireblood Clan leader, a hulking brute covered in scars, spat on the ground, his red eyes narrowing. "This runt from Dreadmaw thinks he can talk to us about being saved? Who does he think he is?" "The Dreadmaw Clan!" another voice echoed from the Thunderstrike Clan, derision dripping from every word. "You lot barely survived back there! And now you want to rule us?" The cavern seemed to vibrate with the sound of their angry growls, their voices blending into a cacophony of fury. Orcs of every clan¡ªthe Bloodfang, Ironhide, Thunderstrike, Stonefist, Shadowclaw, Fireblood, and Frostbite¡ªstood up, their faces twisted in disbelief and rage. They were warriors, chieftains, and veterans of countless battles. To them, this was an insult of the highest order. Volk stood firm, unfazed by their outbursts, though he could feel the heat of their anger radiating towards him. Suddenly, the elder Orc from his own clan, Dreadmaw, stepped forward and grabbed his arm, his face filled with incredulity. "Young Orc!" the elder hissed, his grip tight. "What are you doing, boy? Do you understand what you''re saying? This isn''t a game. You''ll get us all killed!" Volk shook the elder off with a sharp jerk of his arm, his eyes blazing with determination. He wasn''t going to back down, not now. He walked forward, towards the circle of enraged chieftains from the other clans, his steps slow and deliberate. "Yes!" Volk''s voice echoed through the cavern, silencing the muttering and grumbling. "I''m challenging all of you. You should be grateful that it was me who saved you back there. If it weren''t for me, the Dark Elven Witch would have killed every last one of us. But I''m not here to brag. I''m here to claim what''s rightfully mine! I''ll become your Warchief!!" The laughter that followed was harsh and grating. Grahahahahha! Orcs from the other clans laughed, their voices bouncing off the cavern walls. Bwagrahahhahaha! S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Bloodfang Orcs howled with amusement, some clutching their sides, their deep, guttural laughter filling the space. The Ironhide Clan leaned on their weapons, shaking their heads in disbelief. "Absolute Authority?" one of the Ironhide Orcs spat, his voice laced with sarcasm. "As Warchief of all the clans? You''re delusional, boy." "A Warchief?" a Frostbite Orc echoed with a sneer. "The Dreadmaw Clan has always been weak. You barely survived this catacomb, and now you want to rule over all of us? You''re out of your mind!" Even the Thunderstrike Clan, known for their stoicism, couldn''t hold back their amusement. One of their warriors, his face lined with the scars of many battles, chuckled darkly. "This is ridiculous. Is this the best the Dreadmaw Clan has to offer? Some fool who thinks a single victory makes him Warchief?" Their voices blended together, a symphony of mockery and disdain. The Orcs of the Fireblood Clan were the loudest, their leader wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Where''s the Dreadmaw Chieftain?" one of them shouted. "Who gave this young Orc the audacity to speak like this? Is he courting death?" Volk frowned, his mind flashing back to the events of the past where he was challenged by the chieftain of his own Dreadmaw Clan for accepting Grounad as his follower. The Dreadmaw Chieftain that had been leading the whole Dreadmaw Clan, but now... he was nowhere to be found. Where was the Chieftain? Suddenly, one of the younger Orcs from the Dreadmaw Clan stepped forward, his face grim. "The Chieftain..." he began hesitantly, "he perished. He died protecting us all against the Dark Elven Witch earlier." A hush fell over the cavern as the news settled in. Volk felt a surge of realization, and then he laughed¡ªa deep, guttural laugh that made the other Orcs pause. "That''s right," Volk said, his voice carrying across the cavern. "I am the Chieftain now." The room erupted again, but this time with even more disbelief. One of the Bloodfang Orcs stepped forward, his thick arms crossed over his chest. His eyes flicked over Volk dismissively before landing on the massive figure of Grounad, who had remained silent at the back, observing. "Grounad!" the Bloodfang Orc barked, his voice sharp with contempt. "Is this the leader you''ve chosen? The one you left us for? The Dreadmaw Clan? This is what you traded for the Bloodfang Clan?" The Orc''s words hung in the air, filled with venom. He stepped closer, his face twisted with fury. "You were the most promising young warrior of the Bloodfang Clan! You had everything ahead of you! Power, strength, respect! And you threw it all away... for this?" He sneered at Volk as if the very sight of him disgusted him. "You could have led us into glory, Grounad. But instead, you follow this fool. This... runt, who thinks he can stand among us." The Bloodfang Orcs behind him jeered, echoing his sentiments. "You made a mistake, Grounad! You could''ve been great!" one shouted. Another growled, "You were born to lead us, not to follow some whelp from the weakest clan!" Grounad, who had remained silent throughout the confrontation, finally stepped forward. His expression was calm, but there was an unmistakable fire in his eyes. "Maybe you''re the ones who are scared," he said, his voice steady. "You mock us now, but deep down, you know the truth. You know that Volk is the reason you''re all still standing here. Maybe that''s why you''re so loud. Maybe you''re just hiding your fear." His words were like a slap to their faces, and for a moment, there was a stunned silence. The Orcs of the Bloodfang Clan scowled, but they didn''t respond immediately. Meanwhile, Volk''s patience had run out. His hands tightened around the haft of his axe, his teeth bared in a furious snarl. He had had enough of the mockery, enough of the disbelief. Rage boiled in his chest, rising up like a tidal wave. Without warning, he let out a deafening roar, his voice shaking the very ground beneath them. "KORNUUM DRHAKAAAAAAARR!!!" The cavern shook with the force of his shout. Dust and small stones tumbled from the ceiling as the Orcs around him flinched in surprise. The echo of his war cry seemed to reverberate through the very bones of the mountain, a sound so primal and filled with raw power that it silenced even the most defiant Orcs. For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. Volk''s chest heaved as he glared at the assembled clans, his eyes burning with intensity. "You think this is a joke? You think I''m weak?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I don''t care what you think. I''m the Chieftain of the Dreadmaw Clan now. And whether you like it or not, you will bow to me as your new Warchief!" Chapter 110 - 110: Disappointment The atmosphere in the cavern grew itchy and heavy, as though the very air was waiting for something to snap. All eyes were on Volk, standing defiant before the assembled Orc clans. His bold declaration was in the waiting, reverberating through the silence after his mighty roar. The chieftains of the Bloodfang Clan, Ironhide Clan, Thunderstrike Clan, Stonefist Clan, Shadowclaw Clan, Fireblood Clan, and Frostbite Clan stood in disbelief, with their muscles taut with squirming tension. Each Orc seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for someone to make the first move. Then, with a growl that could shake mountains, the Bloodfang chieftain stepped forward. "GurraaaaaAaAaAAAHHH!!" His scarred, hulking frame moved with purpose, his blood-red eyes locked onto Volk. The battle-worn marks on his body told the story of a veteran¡ªone who had seen countless wars and survived them all. His lip curled in a snarl as his massive boots thudded against the stone floor, echoing through the cavern. "You dare speak like this to me, whelp?" the Bloodfang chieftain growled, his voice low and menacing. His words dripped with contempt. "You''re nothing but a pup, still wet behind the ears. You think you can challenge the Bloodfang Clan? I''ll deal with you myself, runt." Volk raised an eyebrow, his face impassive. He didn''t even flinch. Instead, he took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the chieftain. "Only one?" he asked, his voice calm, though it carried a weight of arrogance. "Not all of you?" That simple question sent a ripple of shock through the ranks of the other clans. The gathered Orcs exchanged incredulous looks before bursting into uproarious laughter. The sound of their laughter made a deafening sound, filling the cavern with the harsh, guttural sounds of Orcs mocking Volk''s apparent foolishness. "Hah! This runt wants to take on all of us!" roared an Orc from the Ironhide Clan, his broad chest shaking with mirth. "Does he even know who he''s talking to?" "Arrogant fool!" barked a Stonefist warrior, pounding his hammer against the ground for emphasis. "He won''t even last a minute against Bloodfang''s chieftain!" "He''s lost his mind!" chuckled a Thunderstrike Orc, his laughter edged with cruelty. "This pup doesn''t know the difference between a real warrior and a child''s plaything." Even the chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan couldn''t help but laugh, a dark, rumbling sound that sent vibrations through the stone. His eyes gleamed with malicious amusement as he watched Volk, clearly enjoying the idea of putting the younger Orc in his place. "Bold words, Dreadmaw," the Bloodfang chieftain growled, stepping closer. His massive fists flexed, ready to crush his challenger. "But I''ll make sure you eat them. I''ll break you in front of all these clans. And when I''m done, no one will remember your name. You''ll be nothing more than dust beneath my boots." Volk simply smirked, his calm demeanor never faltering. "I''m sure," he said, his voice slow and deliberate, "that the chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan won''t even leave a mark." The Bloodfang chieftain''s eyes flared with anger, his body tensing like a coiled spring. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on his weapon. "You arrogant little¡ª" Before he could finish, the chieftain lunged at Volk, his powerful legs propelling him forward like a bull charging into battle. His massive war axe sliced through the air with a loud whump! the blade gleaming under the cavern''s light. But Volk was faster. He sidestepped the attack with ease as if he was someone who had been in countless battles himself. The Bloodfang chieftain''s axe bit into the stone floor with a clang! sending sparks flying, but Volk was already behind him, untouched and unimpressed. "Tsk, tsk," Volk said, shaking his head. "That''s it? That''s the best you''ve got? I expected more from a so-called chieftain." The Bloodfang chieftain snarled in frustration, whirling around to strike again. He swung his axe with raw fury, each blow strong enough to shatter bone. Whoosh! Thud! Each strike missed as Volk effortlessly dodged and sidestepped, his movements so precise they seemed almost mocking. "Pathetic," Volk muttered as he evaded another swing, the blade missing him by mere inches. "You call yourself a warrior? I''ve seen pups fight with more skill." The other Orcs watched in stunned silence, their expressions ranging from confusion to disbelief. At first, they expected Volk to be crushed, the battle over in a heartbeat. The Bloodfang chieftain was a veteran, after all. Volk, in their eyes, was just an overconfident pup who didn''t know his place. "What... what''s happening?" an Ironhide Orc muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he watched Volk effortlessly dodge another blow. "No way," growled a Fireblood warrior, his hand tightening on his weapon. "The chieftain''s toying with him. He''ll finish it soon." But as time passed and the Bloodfang chieftain''s attacks grew more frantic, more desperate, the mocking laughter that had filled the cavern began to fade. It was replaced by a tense, uneasy silence. The realization slowly dawned on them all¡ªVolk wasn''t struggling. He wasn''t even trying. "He''s... just defending?" a Thunderstrike warrior whispered, eyes narrowing in confusion. Volk sidestepped another wild swing, his expression one of sheer boredom. "Weak," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I''m disappointed. I thought you''d at least give me a challenge." The Bloodfang chieftain growled, his chest heaving as sweat began to drip down his brow. He swung again, putting all his strength into the blow, but Volk ducked under the strike with almost casual ease. "This is what passes for strength in the Bloodfang Clan?" Volk asked, his tone mocking. "I''ve seen grunts fight better." The other Orcs shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between Volk and their chieftain. This wasn''t how it was supposed to go. Their chieftain was a seasoned warrior, a fighter who had led them through countless victories. And yet, here he was, being toyed with by a younger Orc, one who barely looked like he was breaking a sweat. "H-how is this possible?" a Stonefist Orc muttered, his voice filled with disbelief. "The chieftain should''ve crushed him by now!" "Is... is Volk really that strong?" a Shadowclaw warrior whispered, fear creeping into his voice. The Bloodfang chieftain was breathing heavily now, his attacks growing more sluggish with each swing. His once confident expression was now twisted in frustration and disbelief. He couldn''t land a single hit. It was as if Volk wasn''t even taking him seriously. "Is that all?" Volk asked, his voice calm and unbothered as he dodged another blow. "I expected a lot more from someone with your reputation. But I am disappointed by your performance." The Bloodfang chieftain''s face twisted into a snarl. Graaaahh!! He swung again, this time aiming low to catch Volk off guard. Wham! But Volk leaped back, his feet barely touching the ground as he evaded with a dancer''s grace. "Too slow," Volk said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Is this really the best the Bloodfang Clan has to offer?" The other Orcs exchanged uneasy glances. What was happening before them didn''t make sense. The Bloodfang chieftain was one of the strongest fighters they knew, but here he was, being utterly humiliated by Volk. "Impossible... this can''t be real," an Ironhide Orc muttered, his hands trembling around his weapon. "He... he''s playing with him," a Frostbite warrior said in horror, his eyes wide as he watched Volk effortlessly dodge yet another swing. "This can''t be happening." Volk''s expression remained calm, even as the Bloodfang chieftain began to stumble. His attacks were wild now, more desperate than ever. His once proud stance was slumping, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You''re done," Volk said coldly, watching as the chieftain''s movements became more erratic. With one final, desperate swing, the Bloodfang chieftain lunged forward, his axe raised high. However, Volk sidestepped the attack once more, and with a swift movement, he kicked the chieftain''s legs out from under him. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Bloodfang chieftain crashed to the ground with a thud! his axe clattering beside him. For a moment, the cavern was silent. The other Orcs stared in disbelief as the once-mighty chieftain knelt on the stone floor, gasping for breath, his body shaking with exhaustion. Volk stood over him, his expression cold and unreadable. "I told you," he said softly, his voice carrying through the cavern. "You wouldn''t even leave a mark." And with that, the Bloodfang chieftain, utterly defeated, fell to his knees, the weight of his failure heavy on his shoulders. The silence that followed made their ears hear a long deafening ring! Chapter 111 - 111: All at once The chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan, despite his exhaustion, was not done yet. His pride, his rage, everything inside him refused to allow him to bow down to Volk, especially after being humiliated in front of the other Orc clans. With a snarl, he lunged forward from his kneeling position, his muscles straining as he hurled his axe at Volk. The weapon spun through the air with a deadly hiss, aimed straight for Volk''s chest. Whoosh! But Volk was faster. He sidestepped the axe with ease, his body moving as though he had expected the attack all along. The axe sailed past him, clattering loudly against the stone wall behind him with a sharp clang. The chieftain, furious and now weaponless, charged at Volk again, this time with more desperation in his eyes. His massive hands were outstretched, fingers curled into claws. He aimed for Volk''s face, attempting to gouge his eyes out, his teeth bared in an attempt to bite at his neck. Volk''s face remained calm, even as the chieftain lunged at him with every bit of strength he had left. The other Orcs watched in stunned silence, some leaning forward, expecting this underhanded attack to catch Volk off guard. Thud! Before the chieftain could land a blow, Volk brought his leg up and slammed his boot into the chieftain''s thigh with brutal force, sending him crashing back to his knees. Kabang! The Bloodfang chieftain let out a pained growl as his legs buckled beneath him. "Uurrrkkk!!" With a scream, his massive body trembled with exhaustion, and his breath immediately came in heavy, ragged gasps. "I thought you were a proud veteran warrior," Volk said, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the tension in the cavern like a blade. He stared down at the chieftain, his expression cold, yet tinged with disappointment. "How come you would resort to attacks like that? Eye-gouging? Biting? Is this the honor of the Bloodfang Clan?" The chieftain glared up at him, hatred burning in his eyes, but he couldn''t move. His body was too worn out, his muscles screaming in protest. "Get up," Volk commanded, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest. His tone was calm but held an unyielding authority that echoed through the cavern. "Get up and fight me like a warrior." The Bloodfang chieftain tried to push himself up, his arms shaking from the effort, but his body refused to obey him. His pride, however, wouldn''t let him stay down. "Uggrrrghghhh!" He grunted, his hands trembling as he tried to rise. But no matter how hard he struggled, his strength had abandoned him. The Orcs around them murmured in disbelief, exchanging shocked glances. "Is this really happening?" muttered one of the Thunderstrike warriors, his voice tinged with surprise. "The chieftain... can''t even stand up." "I''ve never seen him like this before," an Ironhide Orc whispered, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Volk... he''s making him look weak." Even the older generation of the Dreadmaw Clan, who had initially looked on with anger and doubt, were now silent, their eyes locked on Volk. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. At first, they had been enraged by Volk''s audacity, by his claim to be their chieftain without earning their respect. But now, as they watched him effortlessly dominate the Bloodfang chieftain, their perspective had begun to shift. "He''s strong..." one of the older Dreadmaw warriors muttered under his breath. "Stronger than any of us thought." "But how?" asked another Dreadmaw elder, his face lined with age and wisdom. "Where did this power come from?" The younger generation of the Dreadmaw Clan stood back, their faces more composed, knowing full well why Volk was so powerful. They remained silent, keeping their knowledge to themselves as they watched their new chieftain in action. Meanwhile, Volk''s eyes never left the Bloodfang chieftain, who was still struggling to rise. Seeing his opponent''s futile efforts, Volk''s expression softened for a brief moment, but then his face hardened again. "Get up!" Volk barked, his voice echoing through the cavern like a thunderclap. He stepped forward and kicked the Bloodfang chieftain''s axe across the stone floor, the weapon scraping loudly as it slid to a stop right in front of the chieftain. The chieftain, flabbergasted, looked down at the weapon, blinking in surprise. "Take it," Volk ordered, his voice colder now. "Get up and take your weapon. Fight me properly." The Bloodfang chieftain hesitated, his eyes darting from the axe to Volk. His pride warred with his exhaustion, but his body refused to cooperate. He reached for the axe, his hand shaking as he gripped the handle, but he couldn''t lift it. His strength had been sapped completely. "Get up!" Volk shouted again, his patience thinning. The command sent a shiver through the assembled Orcs. They could see the fury building in Volk''s eyes, the unrelenting demand for battle in his posture. But the chieftain couldn''t move. He was beaten. Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the tension. "My former chieftain," Grounad stepped forward, his voice dripping with contempt. He moved with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing just behind Volk. His eyes gleamed with something close to satisfaction as he gazed down at the kneeling chieftain. "How does it feel, kneeling in front of Volk? I thought you said I made a mistake leaving the Bloodfang Clan, transferring to the Dreadmaw Clan." Grounad''s words struck like a hammer, and the chieftain flinched as though he had been physically struck. "And now look at you." Grounad''s lips curled into a cruel smile. "Kneeling before the very Orc you dismissed. The very one you underestimated." The chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan growled in frustration, his hands gripping the axe so tightly his knuckles turned white. But he didn''t have the strength to stand. He couldn''t rise. Volk, growing impatient, took another step forward, his eyes blazing to each Orc Clans. "What about the rest of you?" His voice was like a storm, sweeping over the assembled Orcs with undeniable authority. He pointed to the other chieftains¡ªthose from the Ironhide Clan, Thunderstrike Clan, Stonefist Clan, Shadowclaw Clan, Fireblood Clan, and Frostbite Clan. "Send me all your chieftains at once! Let''s make this fair." The gathered Orcs looked at one another, disbelief etched across their faces. At first, they had mocked Volk, angered by his arrogance, by his audacity to claim the title of chieftain without their approval. But now, after seeing what he had done to the Bloodfang chieftain, they hesitated. There was a new respect in their eyes, one mingled with fear. "Is he serious?" muttered a Thunderstrike warrior, his voice barely a whisper. "All of our chieftains... at once?" "He''s mad," an Ironhide warrior said, shaking his head. "But... did you see what he did? He took down the Bloodfang chieftain without even breaking a sweat." One of the Shadowclaw Orcs, his eyes narrowed in thought, grunted in agreement. "Maybe he can do it. Maybe he''s that strong." The chieftains themselves exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of anger and uncertainty. None of them wanted to admit it, but Volk had proven himself to be far more dangerous than they had anticipated. Finally, after a long, tense silence, the chieftain of the Ironhide Clan stepped forward, his face grim. "If you want all of us, Dreadmaw Clan, then you''ll have us." His voice was steady, though there was an underlying tension in his words. He nodded to the other chieftains, signaling them to step forward as well. One by one, the other chieftains stepped forward, their eyes locked on Volk. They were no longer mocking him. Now, they were preparing for war. Volk''s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. This was exactly what he wanted. "Good," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Let''s see if all of you together can fare better than your friend here." And with that, the stage was set. The chieftains of the most powerful Orc clans stepped forward, ready to face Volk as one. The tension in the cavern reached its peak, and all the Orcs knew¡ªthis was going to be a battle they would never forget. Chapter 112 - 112: Hand to Hand combat The cavern was a vast, shadowy expanse, lit only by the faint glimmer of the runes that adorned the walls. The atmosphere of the catacomb was suffocating now, every Orc present holding their breath as they waited for what was about to unfold. The sound of heavy boots echoed through the cave as the chieftains of all the Orc clans stepped forward, their eyes locked on Volk. Volk stood in the center, his broad chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes glinting with cold amusement. He began to stretch, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he extended his arms and rolled his shoulders. Kichick! Kichick! There was an eerie calm about him, as though the battle that was about to begin was nothing more than a casual exercise. "Finally," Volk said, his voice breaking the silence, "I can have a good workout." The words, spoken with such confidence, sent a ripple through the crowd. The assembled Orcs of each clan¡ªBloodfang, Ironhide, Thunderstrike, Stonefist, Shadowclaw, Fireblood, and Frostbite¡ªflinched. If he had said that earlier, they would have laughed at him, mocked him for his arrogance. But now, after witnessing his effortless domination of the Bloodfang chieftain, they took him seriously. So no one laughed this time. The chieftains, however, weren''t so easily cowed. They exchanged glances, each of them nodded in a seemingly silent agreement. One by one, they began to strip off their armor, the heavy plates falling to the ground with resounding clangs that echoed through the cavern. The Orc warriors of each clan watched in confusion as their leaders discarded their protection, but the chieftains had made their decision. "We''ll fight hand-to-hand," one of the chieftains growled, his voice thick with resolve. "You don''t need that fancy armor slowing us down." They had seen the speed with which Volk moved¡ªunhindered, unburdened by heavy armor. The Bloodfang chieftain had worn full plate, and it had only slowed him down, making him an easy target for Volk''s quick, precise movements. The other chieftains wanted no such disadvantage. They wanted to face Volk on equal footing, at least in that regard. Volk chuckled softly, watching the armor hit the ground. The sound of metal crashing against the stone floor was almost comical to him. He admired their spirit, but he couldn''t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. These chieftains, even without their armor, were still clinging to the idea that they could defeat him. "You really think it''ll make a difference?" Volk asked, his voice carrying across the cavern as he flexed his hands into fists. "Very well. Let''s see what you''ve got." The chieftains, now stripped down to their bare muscle, spread out around Volk, circling him like predators. Their massive green bodies, covered in scars from countless battles, were tense with anticipation. They were out for blood, their eyes burning with the fierce determination of warriors who refused to back down. Thud! Thud! Thud! The ground shook slightly beneath their feet as they moved in unison, their boots pounding against the stone floor. "Here we go!" one of the chieftains bellowed, his voice a thunderous roar that reverberated through the cavern. The others echoed his cry, their voices blending together in a cacophony of war chants and battle cries. Then, in one violent motion, they surged forward as one, their massive fists swinging toward Volk with brutal speed. Volk''s eyes gleamed with anticipation as he crouched slightly, his body coiled like a spring. "Come," he said, his voice calm, almost inviting. The first blow came from his left¡ªan Ironhide chieftain''s fist the size of a boulder, aimed directly at Volk''s head. Whoosh! Volk ducked, the massive fist passing over his head by mere inches. Without missing a beat, he sidestepped another chieftain''s charge, his footwork smooth and precise, as if he was dancing through their attacks. Thwack! Volk''s palm shot out, slamming into the chest of the Thunderstrike chieftain, sending him stumbling back with a grunt. He spun around just in time to block a punch aimed at his ribs from the Fireblood chieftain, his forearm absorbing the blow with a resounding crack. The force of the impact would have shattered the bones of any normal Orc, but Volk stood firm, barely flinching. The chieftains roared in frustration, attacking him from all sides. Their fists flew through the air, their bodies lunging toward him with reckless abandon. But Volk was always one step ahead. He moved like a shadow, slipping between their strikes with ease, his body twisting and turning in ways that defied the brute force of their attacks. Smack! Volk''s elbow connected with the jaw of the Frostbite chieftain, sending him crashing to the ground with a loud thud. The Stonefist chieftain came in next, his fists swinging like hammers, but Volk deflected each blow with effortless grace, pushing the larger Orc back with a well-placed shove to the chest. For every punch thrown, Volk had a counter. For every charge, he had an escape. He was untouchable, his movements destructive and precise, as though he could predict their attacks before they even happened. It was as if he was toying with them, letting them exhaust themselves while he remained untouched. Crack! Volk''s knee slammed into the side of the Ironhide chieftain''s ribs, sending him sprawling to the floor. Before the others could react, Volk spun on his heel, and his fist crashed into the Thunderstrike chieftain''s gut, knocking the wind out of him with a single blow. "You''re slow," Volk said, dodging another punch from the Fireblood chieftain. His voice was calm, almost bored. "Is this the best you''ve got?" The other Orcs in the cavern watched in stunned silence. At first, they had expected Volk to go down quickly. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. After all, he was up against the chieftains of the most powerful Orc clans, each of them a veteran warrior with years of battle experience. But as time passed, their disbelief turned into something else¡ªwonder, and then horror. "Is this really happening?" whispered one of the Shadowclaw warriors, his eyes wide with shock. "He''s... he''s not even breaking a sweat," another Orc muttered, his voice trembling with disbelief. "Look at him," an older Dreadmaw warrior said, shaking his head in awe. "He''s toying with them like what he did to the Bloodfang Clan chieftain." The chieftains, for all their strength and fury, were growing desperate. Their bodies were drenched in sweat, their muscles straining as they threw punch after punch, but Volk remained untouchable. He moved like a ghost, his body a blur of motion as he evaded their strikes, his feet barely touching the ground. Bam! Volk''s fist connected with the jaw of the Shadowclaw chieftain, sending him crashing into the Stonefist chieftain, both of them collapsing in a heap on the floor. "You''re all disappointing me," Volk said, his voice dripping with disdain as he threw the Fireblood chieftain across the room with a casual flick of his wrist. "I expected more from the leaders of the great Orc clans." The chieftains, panting and exhausted, began to falter. Their attacks grew sloppy, their movements slower. They were tiring, while Volk seemed as fresh as ever, his energy untouched. Suddenly, without warning, the chieftains stepped back, all of them retreating at once, their chests heaving as they gasped for air. They looked at each other, their faces a mix of frustration and confusion. Why had they stepped back? What were they waiting for? Volk straightened, watching them with narrowed eyes. "What''s the matter?" he asked, his voice mocking. "Tired already?" But the chieftains didn''t answer. They stood there, their fists clenched, their eyes darting toward one another as though waiting for something, or someone, to make the next move. Chapter 113 - 113: Shamanic Abilities As the chieftains of the Orc clans stood in a semicircle around Volk, Volk could sense and see with eyes that their chests were heaving deep. Their sweat glistened on their thick, battle-scarred green skinned bodies, making a strange tension. Each of them looked at the others, as if silently agreeing that brute strength alone wasn''t going to be enough. "Can we use... shamanism?" The Bloodfang chieftain, still recovering from his earlier defeat, broke the silence, his voice hoarse and thick with exhaustion. Volk''s brow furrowed slightly. "Shamanism?" He blinked, confused for a moment. Magic? He had almost forgotten that the Orc clans practiced what they called shamanism¡ªtheir way of conjuring powerful magic through rituals and ancient runes. Volk''s lips curled into a smirk. "Use whatever you like. Do everything you can against me." The chieftains, though breathing heavily, grinned wickedly, Volk noticed their eyes gleamed as if it was renewed the hope that shamanism would turn the tide. Suddenly, Volk felt the ground trembled as they spread their legs, bracing themselves. Magic circles began to glow in their hands¡ªeach one different, reflecting the ancient power of their respective clans. The Bloodfang chieftain was the first to act. His magic circle pulsed with a violent red hue, and his body seemed to radiate heat. "Feel the blood of the hunt, Volk!" he roared, his voice a guttural growl. His skin darkened to a deep crimson, and his muscles swelled, veins popping out as he charged forward with unnatural speed, his fist glowing with the fire of his rage. Whoosh! Volk sidestepped the attack, narrowly avoiding the Bloodfang''s fiery punch. He could feel the intense heat pass by his face, the air crackling from the power. BAM! Before Volk could fully recover from the dodge, another chieftain¡ªthis time from the Frostbite Clan¡ªlaunched an icy projectile at him. "Cold as death itself, Volk! Feel the chill!" the Frostbite chieftain shouted, his eyes glowing a fierce blue as his magic circle shimmered like frost on the wind. The icy shard slammed into Volk''s chest with a loud crack. He stumbled back, feeling the freezing cold bite into his skin, but when he looked down, he saw only a faint scratch on his chest. The Frostbite chieftain''s eyes widened in shock. "Impossible," he whispered, frozen in place. "That should''ve pierced through him like an ice spike..." Volk, surprised himself, muttered under his breath. "Is my body really this strong?" The chieftains weren''t done yet. The Thunderstrike chieftain was next. His magic circle sparked with electric fury, and arcs of lightning danced across his body. "Swift as the storm!" he yelled, thrusting his palm forward. CRACK! A bolt of lightning shot from his hand, zigzagging toward Volk with blinding speed. Instinctively, Volk twisted out of the way, his movements fluid. But even his speed wasn''t enough to fully evade the attack. The lightning bolt grazed his side, sending a shock of pain through his body. His muscles tensed involuntarily as the electricity coursed through him. Volk gritted his teeth. The pain was sharp, but fleeting. He flexed his arm, shaking off the residual tingling. "That''s it?" he taunted, though in truth, the attack had stung more than he wanted to admit. "Enough games!" bellowed the Ironhide chieftain, his voice deep and booming. His magic circle was dark, pulsating with the power of the earth itself. His skin hardened into a metallic sheen, reflecting the dim light of the cavern. He slammed his fists together with a deafening CLANG, and the ground beneath Volk''s feet trembled. "Iron will crush you!" BOOM! A massive shockwave erupted from the Ironhide chieftain''s fists, sending chunks of rock flying in all directions. Volk braced himself, crossing his arms in front of his face. KABAAM! The force of the shockwave slammed into him, knocking him backward. His feet skidded across the stone floor, but he stayed upright, his arms trembling slightly from the impact. "Grrr... That was a good one," Volk muttered, his muscles burning from the strain. He could feel bruises forming under his skin. Still, he remained standing, his gaze unwavering. "Feel the earth break!" shouted the Stonefist chieftain, stepping forward. His magic circle, a deep brown, glowed fiercely as his fists enlarged to twice their normal size. He slammed them into the ground, creating fissures that snaked toward Volk. CRACK! The stone beneath Volk''s feet exploded upward, jagged shards of rock launching toward him. Volk leaped into the air, narrowly avoiding the devastating blow. But just as he landed, another chieftain attacked. WHOOSH! From the shadows, the Shadowclaw chieftain emerged, his magic circle shimmering with a dark, ghostly light. "You cannot dodge what you cannot see, Dreadmaw chief!" he hissed. His hands moved in swift, fluid motions, and a wave of shadowy tendrils shot out from his fingers, wrapping around Volk''s legs and arms. Volk grunted, struggling to free himself as the shadows tightened around him like chains. But with a surge of power, he ripped through them, shattering the shadowy bonds with sheer force. The Shadowclaw chieftain''s eyes widened in disbelief, his body momentarily frozen in place. "Not bad," Volk said, flexing his fingers, "but not good enough." "Burn him to ash!" roared the Fireblood chieftain, his magic circle flaring to life with a fiery red glow. Flames erupted from his hands, swirling into a massive fireball that roared toward Volk. BOOM! The fireball exploded on impact, engulfing Volk in a raging inferno. For a moment, all that could be seen was the wall of fire, crackling and spitting embers into the air. The Orcs watching from the sidelines gasped, their eyes wide with shock. "Did... did they get him?" one of them muttered, squinting through the smoke. But as the flames died down, Volk stood there¡ªhis skin blackened in places, but still standing. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His body was covered in bruises, and the heat from the fire still lingered on his skin, but he remained on his feet. Volk glanced down at his hands, feeling the faint sting of the burns. "So, this is what shamanism can do," he murmured, a hint of surprise in his voice. He looked up at the chieftains, and they could see his expression finally hardened. "You''ve got power, I''ll give you that. But not enough." The chieftains exchanged nervous glances. They had thrown everything they had at him¡ªfire, ice, lightning, earth, shadows¡ªand yet Volk still stood. His body, though battered and bruised, had withstood their combined onslaught. "You... you can''t be serious," the Bloodfang chieftain muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. His once confident demeanor was now tinged with fear. The Thunderstrike chieftain clenched his fists, his eyes wide with disbelief. "How... how is this possible?" Volk took a step forward, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet. His muscles ached, and his body was covered in cuts and bruises, but his spirit remained unbroken. He cracked his neck, the sound echoing through the cavern. "You wanted to use shamanism? Fine. But it wasn''t enough." sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Orcs around the cavern began to murmur amongst themselves. What they had just witnessed was something they had never seen before¡ªa lone warrior standing against the combined might of the strongest chieftains and surviving. Volk grinned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He spat onto the ground, his eyes still gleaming with that same cold, confident light. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice steady, though his body was clearly showing signs of strain. The chieftains, exhausted and bruised, took a step back. Their magic had failed. Their combined power had not brought him down. Volk, though breathing heavily, was still standing tall. "Now... It''s my turn" Chapter 114 - 114: Orc Formation Suddenly, without warning, Volk''s knee buckled beneath him, and he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. The sound echoed ominously through the chamber, bouncing off the stone walls like a warning. For a moment, he was confused. His body, though battered and bruised, had endured the chieftains'' magical onslaught. But now, his legs trembled, refusing to support him. The gathered Orcs of each clan stiffened. Their eyes darted between each other, uncertain. The chieftains, still heaving with labored breaths, exchanged glances. Slowly, a cruel smirk spread across the Bloodfang chieftain''s face. He straightened up, despite his own exhaustion, and nodded to the others. "Let''s do it. The Orc Formation," the Bloodfang chieftain muttered darkly, his voice low and full of deadly intent. Volk''s eyes narrowed. He planted his hands firmly on the ground, pushing himself back to his feet, but his muscles screamed in protest. "Orc Formation?" he asked, his tone laced with suspicion. The name sounded unfamiliar, even to him. Before he could demand an answer, an old, grizzled Orc from the Dreadmaw Clan stumbled forward, his face twisted with panic. His hands shook as he gestured wildly at Volk, his voice rising to a terrified shout. "No! Volk, you don''t understand!" the old Orc cried, his voice breaking from urgency. His eyes darted toward the chieftains, who were now gathering in a loose circle, their hands already glowing with power. "The Orc Formation¡­ it''s not something you can fight against! It''s a spell¡ªa forbidden magic created long ago by the Orc Clans to face foes that no single warrior could defeat. It''s the only way we could bring down enemies like Warlocks and Dark Elven Witches." Volk, still on one knee, clenched his jaw. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn''t respond as they should. His eyes flickered between the old Orc and the chieftains, who now moved in precise, synchronized steps. "They''re combining their strength, Volk!" the old Orc shouted, his voice trembling. "When the Orc Formation is complete, they''ll summon a spell so powerful it can strike both body and spirit! You don''t understand¡ªno enemy has ever survived it!" The words hit Volk like a hammer from the sky. Strike both body and spirit? He began to knit the knot. He could withstand the physical attacks, that much he knew. But if they were targeting his spirit, even his Grum-gar Ogre form wouldn''t protect him. The weight of the old Orc''s warning settled heavily on his chest. "Run, Volk!" the old Orc urged, his voice cracking with desperation. "You have to get out of here! No one can survive the Orc Formation! Not even you! Not even in your Ogre form!" The urgency in the old Orc''s voice clawed at Volk''s resolve. He had never heard this old man speak in such a frantic tone. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his breathing shallow as adrenaline coursed through his veins. His instincts screamed at him to run, to retreat before it was too late. But before he could move, before he could even attempt to escape, the Ironhide chieftain, his body still gleaming with his hardened iron skin, thrust his hands into the air. His magic circle flared to life, and chains of glowing energy erupted from the ground, wrapping around Volk''s wrists and ankles with a loud crack. "Bind him!" the Ironhide chieftain shouted, his voice filled with venomous glee. The chains tightened with a force that made Volk grunt in pain. He strained against them, his muscles bulging as he tried to break free, but the more he struggled, the tighter the chains became. Every second that passed was like a vice clamping down harder and harder. Volk''s breathing became more ragged as he fought against the binding magic. His eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and anger. How could these chieftains, who just moments ago had been on the edge of defeat, suddenly trap him so easily? His body trembled as he pulled against the chains, but the magic was too strong. The old Orc from the Dreadmaw Clan shouted again, his voice a frantic screech now. "Volk! You can''t break free! No one ever has! Run if you can, break the chains!" But Volk was trapped. The magic held him fast, and all around him, the chieftains moved in unison, their magic circles glowing brighter and brighter with each passing second. As the energy around them intensified, the air in the chamber grew thick with the pulsating hum of raw power. The Frostbite chieftain, his hands glowing with a blue icy aura, raised his arms high above his head. "Let the cold embrace your spirit!" he howled, and a sphere of freezing energy began to form above him. Next to him, the Thunderstrike chieftain smirked, electricity crackling between his fingertips. "I''ll light the path to your doom!" he roared, sending tendrils of lightning to join the swirling mass of magic. The Fireblood chieftain, fire blazing in his eyes, clenched his fists as flames erupted from his hands. "Burn in the fire of our fury, Volk!" he bellowed, his voice full of malice as a swirling orb of flame joined the growing magic ball. One by one, the chieftains of each clan poured their remaining mana into the magic orb at the center of their formation. It grew larger, brighter, more chaotic with every passing moment. Volk could feel the heat from it, the sheer power radiating outward like an unstoppable storm. Despite the chains binding him, Volk continued to struggle. His muscles screamed in agony as he tried to tear himself free, but the magic held him fast. The weight of the energy in the air pressed down on him like a mountain. The old Orc from Dreadmaw watched in horror, his face pale as he shouted one final time, "Volk, get out of there! You can''t take this! You''ll die¡ªbody and spirit!" But Volk, despite the panic gripping his mind, forced himself to focus. He gritted his teeth, pushing down the rising fear in his chest. His eyes locked on the massive orb of magic energy, now crackling with power as it hovered above the chieftains. He couldn''t run. He couldn''t break free. But something deep inside him refused to give up. His breathing slowed, and a strange calm settled over him. If this was how it was going to be, then he''d face it head-on. The chieftains roared in unison as they hurled the magic energy ball toward Volk. It tore through the air like a meteor, leaving a trail of fire, ice, and lightning in its wake. WHOOSH! Time seemed to slow as the massive ball of magic hurtled toward him. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Every instinct screamed at him to brace for the impact, to prepare for the pain, the destruction. But instead of fear, something unexpected happened. Volk smiled. As the blazing magic energy roared closer, its heat scorching his skin, Volk''s lips curled into a calm, confident grin. He could feel the power of the spell all over his face and chest, the sheer force of it nearly overwhelming. But at that moment, he wasn''t afraid. Instead of being afraid, he would suddenly show a confident smile. Chapter 115 - 115: Look behind you BOOM! The ground quaked, sending tremors through the earth. The sound of the explosion was deafening¡ªa violent eruption that roared through the air like a beast unleashed. A blast wave tore across the field, flattening the tall grass and sending a cloud of dust and debris high into the cave ceiling. It was as if the very cave itself had ripped open for a few moments, vomiting forth fire, smoke, and destruction. The energy of the blast crackled with arcs of lightning, sizzling through the air as flames and icy shards mixed, creating a chaotic storm that consumed everything in its path. A shockwave pulsed outward, hammering against the chieftains and the watching clans. The sheer force of the explosion knocked a few of the weaker Orcs off their feet, while others staggered back, shielding their eyes from the blinding light. Crackling! Whoosh! The sound of magic dissolving into the atmosphere hissed ominously, leaving behind the scent of scorched earth and burning metal. The ground where Volk had stood was now a crater, its edges jagged and blackened, as if clawed by some great beast. The air shimmered with heat, and the area was obscured by thick plumes of smoke, rising in twisting spirals. For a long moment, everything was still. The chieftains stood frozen in place. The Bloodfang leader, his breath ragged, watched the smoke with wide, unblinking eyes. His massive chest heaved with each breath, his body drenched in sweat and mana exhaustion. The others¡ªIronhide, Thunderstrike, Stonefist, and the rest¡ªwere similarly paralyzed. Their eyes flickered between the smoldering crater and each other, as if unsure of what they had just done. The gathered clans, too, had fallen into a stunned silence. The warriors of the Dreadmaw Clan stood rigid, their mouths slightly open, shock etched into their expressions. Their young representative¡ªVolk, their rising star¡ªhad taken the brunt of the blast. There was no sign of him, no movement from the crater. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as though the earth itself waited to see if Volk had survived. But nothing moved. A heavy, oppressive stillness blanketed the battlefield. It was a silence so thick it felt suffocating, wrapping itself around the throat of every Orc present. The only sound was the distant crackling of dissipating magic and the occasional shifting of rocks falling from the edges of the crater. The air itself seemed frozen in time, the atmosphere heavy with an eerie sense of finality. A few of the younger Orcs shifted uncomfortably, their eyes wide with disbelief, but none dared to speak. Then, from the stillness, a sound broke the quiet. "Haha¡­" It was a soft, breathy chuckle at first. The voice was weak, strained from exertion, but unmistakable. The Bloodfang chieftain, still kneeling on the ground, wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled shakily. He took another deep breath, his chest trembling, then laughed again, but he was louder this time. "Haha¡­ Hahahaha¡­" His laughter grew, building like a storm gathering strength. Soon, the sound was no longer a mere chuckle but a full-bodied roar of amusement. "HAHAHAHAHAHA!" The other chieftains turned to look at him, confusion etched across their faces. But then, as if a spell had been cast over them, they, too, began to laugh. "Haha¡­ Hahahahaha!" the Ironhide chieftain joined in, clutching his sides as he doubled over. "Hahahaha! HAHAHAHA!" One by one, the others followed suit. Thunderstrike threw his head back, his laughter sharp and piercing, almost hysterical. Enjoy new stories from m-v l''e|m,p| y- r The Stonefist chieftain''s deep, guttural laugh echoed through the valley, shaking his massive frame with each heaving breath. "Hahahaha! HAHAHAHA!" The laughter spread like wildfire, uncontrollable and infectious. The other Orcs of each clan, still caught between shock and disbelief, slowly began to grin, their grim faces cracking into sneers of amusement. "Warchief?!" The Bloodfang chieftain spat the word, his voice dripping with mockery. He pounded the ground with his fist, tears of laughter streaming down his face. "This fool really thought he could challenge us all and call himself Warchief? HAHAHAHAHA!" "He''s gone now!" the Ironhide chieftain bellowed, wiping his mouth as he shook with laughter. "So much for the mighty Volk! He couldn''t even survive a single spell, and he called himself Warchief? What arrogance! What a joke!" The Thunderstrike chieftain, barely able to stand from laughing, pointed toward the crater. "Where''s your Warchief now, Dreadmaw? Huh? HAHAHAHA! He bit off more than he could chew and now¡­ he''s nothing but ash!" They jeered, their voices rising with gleeful malice. "Look at them! Silent as corpses!" the Stonefist chieftain sneered, jabbing a finger toward the Dreadmaw Clan. "Your young warrior challenged us and now he''s dead! How shameful!" "He may have been strong, but he was a fool!" The Frostbite chieftain''s cold voice rang out, his laughter quieter but no less cruel. "Thinking he could take us all on like that? What madness possessed him? HAHA! Look at your Warchief now! He''s nothing!" The older members of the Dreadmaw Clan hung their heads in shame, their faces flushed with embarrassment. Their representative had indeed been powerful, but they hadn''t expected such recklessness. The weight of the chieftains'' scorn pressed down on them, heavy and unbearable. Each mocking word was like a hammer to their pride, shattering their confidence. But amid the jeers and ridicule, one group remained eerily calm¡ªthe younger generation of the Dreadmaw Clan. They stood in quiet, unwavering silence. There was no shame in their eyes, no fear or uncertainty. Instead, they seemed to be watching the scene with an almost knowing expression, as if they were waiting for something. Their confidence was unsettling in the face of such mockery. The Thunderstrike chieftain noticed this and sneered, pointing at them with a mocking grin. "And what about you, young Dreadmaw?" he shouted. "Why are you so silent? Do you still believe in your Warchief, even after all this? Are you blind to reality? Your leader is gone!" The young Dreadmaw Orcs exchanged glances, unperturbed by the taunts. Their silence stretched on, they were unbroken and unaffected by the jeering of the Orc Clans. But then, one of them stepped forward. He was tall and lean, his eyes sharp with clarity and purpose. His face was calm, composed¡ªalmost serene. The laughter of the chieftains faltered as they watched him approach. The young Orc stopped a few paces away, his expression unwavering as he turned to face the chieftains. He spoke quietly at first, his voice cutting through the lingering laughter like a blade through the air. "Don''t celebrate too early." The chieftains blinked, confusion flashing across their faces. The young Orc''s voice was steady, firm, as if he knew something they didn''t. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The laughter began to die down, curiosity and uncertainty replacing the previous mocking tones. The young Orc gestured toward the crater, his voice steady but cold. "Look behind you." The chieftains froze. Their mocking sneers faded, replaced by wide-eyed confusion and, for the first time since the battle had begun, a flicker of doubt. Slowly, as if gripped by some primal instinct, they turned to look over their shoulders. The smoke was still thick, swirling and twisting in the air. But as it slowly cleared, a shadowy figure began to emerge from the darkness, standing tall amidst the rubble. Soon, the dust settled, revealing a familiar silhouette¡ªone that should not have been there. Volk stood, bruised and battered but very much alive. His lips curled into a faint smile. The chieftains'' eyes widened in disbelief, their bodies stiffening as they realized their mistake. Volk had survived. Chapter 116 - 116: Warchief The air was still thick with violent tension as Volk stood amidst the clearing smoke, his bruised and battered body a testament to the battle. Yet, there was an undeniable confidence in his posture, his calm expression almost mocking the chieftains who had believed him defeated just moments ago. He slowly lifted his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist as if testing his strength. Clack! Clack! Clack! The silence of disbelief was broken by the first murmur among the chieftains. "H-How¡­?" The Bloodfang chieftain''s voice trembled, the disbelief clear in his bloodshot eyes. "How did he¡ª?" Another chieftain, from the Stonefist Clan, growled in frustration. His massive fists clenched at his sides, veins bulging in his neck. "Impossible! He should have been crushed!" The Frostbite chieftain, his face pale and ashen, glared at Volk. "No one survives the Orc Formation. No one!" His voice was rising, a mix of fear and confusion. "How did he escape?" They all stared at Volk, their minds racing, trying to comprehend what had just happened. This was supposed to be the end. The Orc Formation was the ultimate spell, an ancient technique designed to overpower even the strongest of foes. It had toppled warlocks and witches, shattered the defenses of armies, and yet¡­ here stood Volk, seemingly untouched. The Thunderstrike chieftain spat on the ground in frustration. "What sorcery is this? What trick did you use to survive?" Volk, his eyes gleaming with calm amusement, slowly raised his head to meet their stares. He cracked his neck, the bones popping audibly, before speaking in a low, measured tone. "Did you all forget the battle I had with Grounad before we entered the catacombs?" The chieftains exchanged confused glances. The Bloodfang chieftain frowned, scratching his head. "What are you talking about? That fight was nothing compared to¡ª" But Volk interrupted, his voice smooth but sharp. "Do you remember what happened when Tomorrowhawk Bull charged at me? I vanished. Right in front of him. The bull you sent to trample me was redirected because I wasn''t where I appeared to be." The Bloodfang chieftain blinked, his face slackening with realization. "The¡­ the bull..." From the Ironhide chieftain''s side, a deep, guttural gasp escaped. His eyes widened, and his mouth quivered. "Y-You¡­ you¡­?" Volk''s lips curled into a knowing smile. He nodded, his eyes locking onto the Ironhide chieftain''s, making the older warrior visibly flinch. "That''s right. I sidestepped. I''ve been able to disappear from one place and reappear instantly somewhere else for quite some time now. I only let you believe your attacks hit me." The Ironhide chieftain stumbled back a step, his face drained of color. "You¡­ tricked us¡­" The realization was dawning on the rest of the chieftains like a slow-moving storm. They had all believed their Orc Formation had hit its mark, that Volk had taken the full brunt of the attack. But it had all been an elaborate ruse. "He let us think we won," the Fireblood chieftain muttered under his breath, his fiery eyes narrowing with frustration. "He lured us into using the Formation¡­" "And we walked right into it," growled the Thunderstrike chieftain. His lips curled into a snarl, but the rage in his eyes couldn''t hide the fear that was creeping in. Volk took a slow, deliberate step forward. His presence was overwhelming, commanding. "I wanted you to use it," he said, his voice cold but calm. "I wanted to see if the great Orc chieftains could actually challenge me. But you''re all fools." He turned his gaze to the Ironhide chieftain, his smile widening. "Especially you." The Ironhide chieftain''s knees buckled, and he slumped to the ground, his body trembling. His iron skin, once a symbol of his clan''s invincibility, now seemed like a brittle shell. He lowered his head in defeat, the words barely escaping his throat. "I... I was wrong." His voice cracked, filled with regret and shame. "I, Grulg Ironclad, chieftain of the Ironhide Clan, acknowledge you, Volk, as our true Warchief." There was a stunned silence as the other chieftains looked at the Ironhide leader. The man who had been a symbol of strength was now bowing to Volk. One by one, the realization that they had no other choice washed over them. The Bloodfang chieftain clenched his teeth, but after a long pause, he too lowered his head. "I am Kaarg Bloodfang, chieftain of the Bloodfang Clan. From this day, Volk is my Warchief." The Fireblood chieftain sighed, his voice bitter. "I am Raal Fireblood. Volk¡­ is my Warchief." The chieftains, one by one, admitted their defeat, their voices heavy with resignation. The Frostbite, Thunderstrike, Stonefist¡ªeach chieftain announced their loyalty to Volk, some with bitterness, others with reluctant admiration. As the final words of submission echoed in the catacombs, Volk remained unmoved. His eyes scanned the defeated chieftains, each one broken, bruised, and mentally shattered. Yet, despite their acknowledgments, his expression remained cold. He didn''t care for their words. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They were just that¡ªwords. And words weren''t enough to satisfy him. Volk''s hands clenched into fists once more, the sound of his knuckles cracking like a whip in the silence. Clack! Clack! Clack! The chieftains flinched at the noise, their bodies tense with uncertainty. "We¡­ we''ve acknowledged you!" the Thunderstrike chieftain stammered, his voice laced with panic. "What more do you want?" Volk took another step forward, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "What more do I want? Oh, you misunderstand. You see¡­ I''m not done yet." The chieftains exchanged fearful glances. The Ironhide chieftain, still kneeling on the ground, looked up at Volk with pleading eyes. "But¡­ but we''ve given you our loyalty! You are our Warchief now! What are you planning?" Volk''s gaze hardened. "I''m not satisfied," he said flatly, his voice low and dangerous. "I received a lot of injuries because of you." A chill ran down the spines of the chieftains. The blood drained from their faces as the realization of what Volk intended settled in. Their confidence crumbled, replaced by sheer, unadulterated terror. "You¡­ you can''t be serious¡­" the Stonefist chieftain whispered, his voice barely audible. "Oh, I''m serious," Volk replied, his voice dripping with cold malice. "Very serious." The Fireblood chieftain took a step back, his hands trembling as the fear became visible in his eyes. "We¡­ we''ve already surrendered! You don''t need to do this!" Volk''s smile returned, but it was anything but friendly. "But I¡­" he paused at first, then continued, "WANT to." And with that, the cave was immediately filled with the sickening sound of bones cracking and the helpless screams of the chieftains. The once-proud leaders of the Orc clans, who had mocked and jeered at Volk, now writhed in agony as he delivered his judgment. Explore new worlds at m,v l|e''m-p|yr Their screams echoed through the catacomb, their voices blending together into a haunting chorus of pain and fear. The stone walls reverberated with their cries, the sound carrying far and wide. Outside, the Orcs from every clan stood frozen in horror, their faces pale as the realization of what was happening inside the chamber sank in. For a moment, it felt as if the catacombs themselves had come alive, feeding off the agony and despair that filled the air. The younger generation of the Dreadmaw Clan, who had stood in silent confidence throughout, did not flinch. They watched, their eyes cold and calculating, knowing that this was the moment Volk had truly solidified his place as Warchief. The screams continued, long and unrelenting, until finally, they were silenced. Chapter 117 - 117: We will get out Volk sat on a jagged stone, his back resting against the rough wall of the catacomb, cradling a small, crude bottle of healing potion in his hand. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The dim glow of the subterranean chamber illuminated his broad, muscular frame, highlighting the deep bruises and cuts that adorned his body. With a slight move, he uncorked the bottle and poured the thick liquid into his mouth. Its bitter taste made him wince, but he welcomed the sensation as the soothing warmth of the potion coursed through his veins, knitting his wounds together. His eyes flicked upward toward the system screen, visible only to him. Ding! | Mission: Challenge and defeat all the remaining Orc Clans to work under the Dreadmaw Clan. | Status: Completed. | Rewards: Getting out of the Dungeon. | Time: Please wait for three hours. | A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Volk''s lips. "One hour, huh?" he muttered to himself. The thought of finally leaving the dungeon filled him with a strange mix of relief and anticipation. He stretched his sore muscles, feeling the faint twinge of pain as his body recovered from the brutal battle with the chieftains. Suddenly, a familiar presence loomed over him, and he glanced up to see Grounad approaching, his hulking form casting a long shadow across the chamber. The old Orc, with his battle-scarred face and mischievous grin, chuckled as he stepped closer. "I never expected ya to challenge all the chieftains so fast," Grounad said with a hearty laugh, his tusks glinting in the dim light. "Thought you''d take yer time, maybe get a few more victories under yer belt." Volk leaned his head back against the stone wall, his expression calm. "Thanks to you," he replied, his voice steady. He remembered the conversation they had earlier, when he was on a mission to retrieve the crystal and put his blood in it. Back then, Volk had asked Grounad what he knew about each clan, learning the nuances and strengths of each group. But as they spoke, the conversation had turned to something more intriguing. Grounad had revealed, with a grin, how one becomes a Warchief. "Challenge all the chieftains at once," he''d said, laughing as if it were a joke, never expecting Volk to take it seriously. "I didn''t forget," Volk said now, his gaze locking with Grounad''s. "You told me how to be a Warchief. I knew it was only a matter of time." Grounad barked another laugh, his rough voice echoing through the chamber. "Yeah, well, I didn''t think you''d do it this fast. Damn, Volk, you''re full of surprises!" Volk shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "Circumstances forced my hand." As they sat there, surrounded by the eerie quiet of the catacombs, Grounad''s expression softened. He sat beside Volk, his massive frame settling onto the cold stone. "You know, this reminds me of my wife," he began, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. Volk raised an eyebrow but said nothing, allowing the older Orc to continue. "Mishina¡­" Grounad began, his eyes distant, as if he were gazing through time itself. "She wasn''t like the other Orc women. Nah, she had somethin'' about her¡ªan Elven elegance, if ya could believe it. "I met her when I was younger, long before the other clans came together to this forest. We Orcs¡­ we had a peace with the Elves back then. Our worlds crossed more often. She was part of an Elven delegation sent to the Bloodfangs for a peace treaty." Grounad paused, his fingers tracing the scars on his arm, each one a reminder of battles fought and survived. "I saw her from across the courtyard. All pale skin and golden hair¡­ somethin'' so foreign to us Orcs, but she had this fire in her eyes. Stubborn, proud, and damn, she could hold her own in a fight. "We clashed once, durin'' a demonstration match. The others were just playin'' around, but Mishina¡­ she gave me a real challenge. I''ve never respected someone so much." He smiled, his sharp tusks showing as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I knew right then I wanted her. And somehow, against all odds, she wanted me too." Volk listened in silence, his eyes watching Grounad''s face as the warrior''s tough exterior softened. "We had a few years together. They were the best years of my life, Volk. She taught me things I never thought I''d care about¡ªhow to appreciate quiet moments, how to see the world beyond just battle and blood. I would''ve done anything for her, anything to keep her safe." Grounad''s voice trembled slightly. "But then¡­ the migration. The separation of the Orcs from our Elven wives. They took her from me. Said it wasn''t natural, said it wasn''t right." Volk''s eyes narrowed slightly. He could sense the pain behind Grounad''s gruff voice, the loss of something precious. It was a feeling Volk, despite his own hardened exterior, could understand. "If I knew it was gonna end like this," Grounad continued, his voice breaking, "with the clans divided and us separated from our Elven wives, I would''ve treasured every moment with her more. I''d have never let a single day go to waste." For a long moment, there was silence between them, the weight of Grounad''s story hanging in the air like a dense fog. Finally, Volk''s lips twitched into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. "They''ll be back soon," Volk said, his voice steady, full of quiet confidence. Grounad''s eyes widened. "What?" he stammered, his voice shaking with disbelief. "What do ya mean, ''they''ll be back''?" Volk stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over Grounad. "Don''t ask me how. I''m not sure yet," Volk said, his voice calm and measured. "But I have a way." Grounad stared at him, mouth agape, the weight of Volk''s words sinking in. There was a glimmer of hope in his old, battle-worn eyes. Volk rarely spoke without purpose, and even in the short time Grounad had been with him, he had learned to trust the young Warchief''s words. Before Grounad could ask anything more, Volk suddenly stretched his massive arms above his head and took a deep breath, the tension in his muscles releasing. Then, without warning, Volk''s voice boomed through the catacombs, shaking the very stone walls. "HOOOOOOOOORRRDDDDEEEE!!" The sound reverberated like thunder, jolting every Orc in the chamber from their rest. Heads snapped in his direction, eyes wide and alert as they turned toward their new Warchief. Volk grinned, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "I WANT YOU ALL TO HUNT THE CATACOMBS'' CREATURES AND FILL YOUR BELLIES!" The Orcs blinked, caught off guard by the sudden command. But they knew better than to question their leader. Murmurs spread quickly through the crowd as they began to move, preparing for the hunt. Volk''s grin widened, with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He could see the fire igniting in his warriors, their bloodlust reawakening as they prepared for battle once more. "And make it quick!" Volk shouted, his voice full of laughter. "BECAUSE IN THREE HOURS, WE WILL GET OUT OF THIS WRETCHED PLACE!" The Orcs were stunned, after a few seconds they all erupted in cheers, one could see their spirits lifting as the promise of freedom finally seemed within reach. Grounad stood beside Volk, watching with a mixture of awe and disbelief. He had never seen such a commanding presence, such effortless leadership. As the Orcs scattered into the catacombs, Volk turned to Grounad, his eyes gleaming with quiet determination. "Get ready," Volk said, his voice low. "Everything''s about to change. I don''t know what but it''s better to be prepared all the time." Chapter 118 - 118: Feast As the hour passed, the catacomb echoed with the clattering and shuffling of the Orc clans moving about. Volk had given the command for every clan, including the Dreadmaw, to hunt. Only a handful of the Orcs remained behind¡ªthose skilled in preparing and cooking the meat for their eventual feast. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and sweat as the clans scattered into the labyrinthine depths, searching for creatures that roamed in the darkness. The preparation area buzzed with activity. Fires crackled, spits were assembled, and the few Orcs left to tend the fires sharpened their knives and prepared the space for the grand meal. Volk, leaning casually against the rough stone wall of the catacomb, suddenly felt a soft pulse from the system. His brow furrowed as a notification screen appeared before his eyes. | Ding! | Please plant this to a place the Host desires to open the dimensional crack. | He tilted his head, considering the message. The screen blinked out of existence, and a suspended light appeared before him, hovering just inches from his face. Without hesitation, Volk reached out, grasping the light in his hand. It was warm, pulsing with faint energy that hummed softly against his palm. He glanced around the chamber, spotting a small, jagged gap in the stone wall to his right. With purposeful steps, Volk walked toward it, the suspended light still cradled in his hand. As he approached the wall, he crouched, observing the tiny fissure closely. With a steady hand, he pressed the light into the gap. Nothing happened. Volk stood there for a moment, staring at the crack in the wall. His eyes narrowed, one could see there was a flicker of impatience running through his head. He was about to turn away when he remembered the system''s instructions. He had two more hours to wait. With a grunt of frustration, Volk rose to his full height, turning on his heel to rejoin the preparations. The light would do its work in time. For now, there was food to prepare, and a horde to feed. He made his way back to the main chamber where the cooks were busy skinning the beasts from earlier hunts. The sound of knives slicing through flesh filled the air, accompanied by the sizzling of meat roasting over open flames. Clang! Clang! Clang! Volk''s stomach growled faintly, the scent of cooking food making his mouth water. But before he could say a word, the first group of hunters returned from the depths of the catacomb, dragging the lifeless bodies of massive, grotesque creatures behind them. One by one, the Orcs began to pile the carcasses in front of Volk. A monstrous collection of mutated beasts, twisted by the radioactive energy of the catacombs, lay before him. The creatures'' skins shimmered with an unnatural glow, their twisted forms bristling with jagged limbs and contorted muscles. Several of the Orcs began to mutter to each other, their voices low but audible. "Why are we puttin'' all this in front of the Warchief?" one Orc grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Maybe it''s some sort of ritual," another whispered back, his eyes darting toward Volk. "Maybe he''s gonna bless the meat or somethin''." The first Orc frowned, unimpressed but found it funny. "Bless the meat? Since when do we need blessings to eat?" A third Orc, standing slightly apart from the others, leaned in, his voice hushed as if he was sharing some great secret. "I heard the Warchief plans to reduce the hazard. Make it tastier, you know? Get rid of the bad energy from these things." The others exchanged looks of intrigue, their suspicions only growing. Before anyone could speculate further, Volk stepped forward, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over the pile of monstrous corpses. The murmurs ceased instantly, and all eyes turned to him. He stood silently for a moment, his eyes scanning the pile of twisted beasts. Then, without warning, Volk''s body tensed, and a faint hum filled the air. His hands clenched into fists, and a surge of invisible energy radiated from his body, absorbing over the carcasses like a water drain. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "ZEEENNNG!" A low hum reverberated through the chamber, and the radioactive energy within the creatures began to pulse and shimmer. The Orcs watched in stunned silence as the eerie glow around the corpses faded, sucked into Volk''s form. The twisted, unnatural energy was siphoned from the dead beasts, absorbed into Volk''s body as if it were nothing more than air. Within moments, the corpses of the creatures lay still, their radioactive energy completely drained. Volk stood over them, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. The Orcs erupted into cheers, their voices echoing off the stone walls. They hadn''t seen anything like it before, and the excitement was palpable. The beasts were now ready for the feast, safe from their former taint. "Let the feast begin!" Volk bellowed, his voice booming across the chamber. The Orcs roared in response, their excitement boiling over as they quickly set to work preparing the meat for the grand meal. Soon, the chamber was filled with the rich, savory aroma of roasting flesh. Fires crackle as enormous haunches of meat were skewered and turned over open flames. Fat dripped and sizzled into the fire, sending plumes of smoke rising toward the stone ceiling. The sounds of laughter and merriment filled the air as the Orcs sat in groups, tearing into the cooked meat with ravenous hunger. Even the chieftains, still nursing their bruises from their earlier fight with Volk, joined in the celebration. They sat on thick logs, laughing heartily and sharing stories of past battles as they gnawed on chunks of meat. Despite the injuries they had sustained, their spirits were high, and the camaraderie among the clans was palpable. Around the fire, the Orcs passed around large mugs filled with some kind of potent drink, the liquid sloshing over the sides as they clinked their mugs together in toasts. "Hahahaha! I thought I''d never taste proper meat again!" one of the chieftains roared, his voice thick with amusement. "Aye, and to think this was all thanks to our new Warchief!" another chieftain added, raising his mug high. "Never thought I''d be celebratin'' like this after the beatin'' he gave us!" another chimed in, his face twisted into a toothy grin. For two full hours, the feast continued. The Orcs ate and drank until their bellies were full, their laughter and cheers echoing throughout the catacomb. Even the youngest Orcs, who had been silent earlier, joined in the celebration, reveling in the unity of the clans under Volk''s leadership. But amidst the revelry, Volk remained calm, his eyes sharp, watching over the gathered clans. He didn''t eat much¡ªjust enough to keep his strength up. His mind was elsewhere, turning over the events that had led them here, and what was yet to come. Suddenly, in the middle of the laughter and roaring firelight, Volk''s smile faded. His muscles tensed as he sensed something¡ªsomething off. His head snapped toward the far end of the chamber, where the crack in the wall lay. The noise around him seemed to fade into the background as his senses sharpened. There was something¡­ a presence. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he stood, his knuckles cracking as he flexed his hands. He stepped away from the fire, moving toward the source of the disturbance. The atmosphere in the catacomb shifted as the Orcs around him fell silent, sensing the change in their young Warchief''s demeanor. The feast came to an abrupt halt. All eyes turned to Volk as he walked. Something was coming. He stopped, standing at the edge of the chamber, his eyes locked on the crack in the wall. The air around him grew colder, and a faint rumble echoed through the stone, as if the very catacomb itself was awakening. Something was about to happen. Chapter 119 - 119: Orzaroth Elves Far away, in the shimmering, mystical realm of Orzaroth, beneath the dense canopy of its ancient forest, an otherworldly ceremony was taking place. The towering trees swayed gently, their leaves whispering in a language older than time, while the air crackled with an electric energy that seemed to pulse from the very earth itself. The elves of this realm were gathered in reverence, forming an immaculate circle around a massive, glowing tree¡ªthe Tree of Life. The tree''s colossal roots dug deep into the soil, pulsing with an inner light that gave life to the entire forest. Its branches reached toward the heavens, their tips seemingly brushing the very stars, while its leaves glimmered with an ethereal glow. The elves, adorned in flowing robes of green and gold, stood silent, their sharp, angular faces turned toward the tree in anticipation. Their leader, Prince Fernon, stood at the center, his presence commanding and regal. Prince Fernon was the embodiment of elven beauty and power. His tall, lean frame was draped in intricately woven silks that shimmered in the soft glow of the tree. His silver hair fell in waves down his back, framing his chiseled features and sharp, sapphire eyes. He was the chosen protector of the elves, the one destined to lead them to their next evolution¡ªthe heavenly elves. But today, his purpose was more personal. Today, he would choose his wife from the bearded fruit of the Tree of Life. A hush fell over the crowd as Fernon raised his hand, his voice low but resonant. "Brothers, sisters of Orzaroth, today marks the beginning of our ascension. The Tree of Life has borne its fruit, and from it, we shall rise above the limitations of this world. Today, I will choose the one who will stand beside me as we guide our people into the future." The elves nodded solemnly, one could see their eyes were bright with ambition. They had long prepared for this day. For centuries, they had guarded the Tree of Life, waiting for it to bear its sacred fruit. And now, that time has come. They would finally become the dominant race of the Orzaroth Realm, free to rid the world of beastmen, humans, and especially the dark elves, their sworn enemies. Nothing would stand in their way. Not after today. Around the base of the great tree, saplings began to emerge. Each one was like a cocoon, its exterior a soft, silken shell that shimmered with a pale, golden light. Inside each sapling was an elf¡ªan adult, fully formed, but asleep. These elves were not born in the traditional sense. They were created by the Tree of Life, formed from its essence to be the purest of their kind. They were perfect, flawless beings, untouched by the imperfections of the world. One of these would be Fernon''s bride. A murmur rippled through the gathered elves as the saplings appeared in greater numbers, their soft glow illuminating the forest. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The air was thick with tension and excitement. This was more than a marriage. This was destiny unfolding before them. The elves believed that Prince Fernon''s union with one of these beings would bring them the strength and unity they needed to conquer the realm. Chants began to fill the air, soft at first, but growing louder as the elves lifted their voices in unison. Their words flowed in the ancient elven tongue, a prayer to the Tree of Life, asking for its guidance in this sacred moment. The forest around them seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their chant, the very trees swaying in time with their voices. Prince Fernon stepped forward, his eyes scanning the row of saplings. Each one held a potential bride, each one was perfect, yet only one could stand at his side. He moved gracefully between them, his sharp gaze lingering on each cocoon as if waiting for a sign. And then, the Tree of Life responded. A low, resonant hum filled the air, vibrating through the ground and up into the saplings. The tree''s roots glowed brighter, their light intensifying as the saplings began to shift and pulse. From the depths of the tree, a soft, melodic voice echoed in Fernon''s mind, guiding him. He stopped before one particular sapling, his hand hovering over its soft surface. The elves held their breath as they watched him, their eyes wide with anticipation. Fernon''s fingers brushed the surface of the cocoon. Instantly, the soft shell began to shimmer and shift. The other saplings remained still, but this one responded to his touch, as if it knew it had been chosen. The elven prince''s heart quickened. He could feel it¡ªthe connection. This was the one. As the crowd watched in silence, the outer shell of the cocoon began to peel away, its soft layers dissolving into the air like mist. Slowly, the figure within began to emerge, her delicate form bathed in the light of the Tree of Life. She was breathtaking. Her long, silvery green hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves, her skin as smooth and pale as moonlight. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene, as though she were still caught in a peaceful slumber. Her robes, woven from the very essence of the tree, shimmered like liquid gold, flowing over her body in perfect harmony with her every curve. She was, in every sense, the epitome of elven beauty. Prince Fernon stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch her face. As his fingers brushed her skin, her eyes slowly fluttered open. And that was when Fernon froze. Those eyes. They were not the soft, pale blue of an elf. No, they were a deeper hue, a color he had never seen before. They were sharp, dangerous¡ªfull of life, but not the life he expected. The gathered elves whispered amongst themselves, unaware of Fernon''s sudden unease. They did not yet see what he saw. To them, this was still the chosen bride, the one who would elevate their race. But Fernon''s heart raced as his gaze lingered on her face. And then he saw it¡ªa flicker of recognition in her eyes. A fire. Something primal and fierce. Something wild and destructive. Just what kind of elf is this? Solluha''r. That was her name, though Fernon did not know it. He felt incredibly attracted. She looks like she was not just an elf created by the Tree of Life. She could feel that was something far more. She was someone from another realm. Someone tied to another life. Another world. Without knowing why, Fernon''s hand pulled away, a cold dread settling into his chest. His lips parted to speak, but the words died on his tongue. There was something in those eyes¡ªa memory, a connection to something¡­ someone else. He is sure of it. The elves still celebrated behind him, oblivious to the truth. They saw only the beauty and perfection of their new queen-to-be. But Fernon saw the shadow of another life in those eyes. A life he knew nothing about. A life that had nothing to do with Orzaroth or their ascension. As the last pieces of the cocoon dissolved into the air, revealing her fully, Fernon felt a shiver run down his spine. She was perfect, yes. But she was not theirs. And yet, no one else noticed. To them, she was simply the future. The one who would bring them power. But to Fernon, she was a mystery. The scene ended as Solluha''r''s face was fully revealed, her eyes locking onto Fernon''s, her expression unreadable. She was calm, composed, but there was something in her gaze. Something that hinted at a past not yet uncovered. A past tied to a different realm entirely. Suddenly, the sapling closed again, so with her glorious eyes. Chapter 120 - 120: Shrinking Back in the damp, dark expanse of the catacombs, the Orc clans had gathered, earlier feasting and celebrating their victory under Volk''s command, now tense. Even though the air was thick with the smell of roasting meat, laughter, and the constant hum of conversation, everyone came to stop. Volk stood tall at the center, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the stone walls. He had ordered the feast, believing that after all they''d been through, his newly united horde deserved a moment of respite. But then it happened. A low murmur rippled through the crowd. One of the Orcs from the Bloodfang Clan, his voice shaky, called out. "Warchief... something''s wrong!" His words were barely audible at first, but they carried a weight that silenced the entire gathering. Eyes turned toward the Orc, whose once-muscular form had begun to change. Volk furrowed his brow. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the slight shift in the Orc''s stature. The Orc''s broad, green body was shrinking. Slowly at first, then faster. His arms and legs withered, muscles shrinking, veins disappearing beneath the skin. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The sight was both grotesque and horrifying. "What''s happening to him?" another Orc from the Ironhide Clan yelled, his voice trembling. One by one, the other Orcs began to feel the same strange sensation. Their bodies, once powerful and towering, started to shrink. Their voices rose in panic, echoing off the catacomb walls, as confusion turned to fear. "This is sorcery!" shouted an elder from the Stonejaw Clan, his voice shaking with both anger and terror. He raised his hand, but even his strong arm was withering before their very eyes. The Ironhide chieftain, normally calm and composed, was the next to shout, "Warchief, what have you done?" His massive form had shrunk to nearly half its size. He was no longer the indomitable force that had fought side by side with Volk. The panic grew. Shrkk, shrkk¡ªthe sound of bones shifting and muscles retreating filled the room as more Orcs began to diminish in size. One of the younger Orcs screamed in terror, "We''re turning into a small version of ourselves!" Volk stood frozen for a moment, confusion and shock etched on his face. His own body remained unaffected. His skin, cleansed by the crystal''s radiant energy, kept him from shrinking. The same could be said for the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan. But the other Orcs were not so lucky. Volk''s mind began to search for an answer, trying to find the reason for what was happening in front of him. He suddenly recalled something the Orcs had mentioned in passing, something he had not paid much attention to before: the Elven wives. Orcs, without or far away from their Elven wives, would slowly weaken. Without them, their strength would be drained, and they would continue to shrink, until they were no stronger than goblins. His eyes widened in realization. "It''s because we''ve been separated from their Elven wives¡­" he muttered under his breath. Another shriek echoed through the cavern as an Orc from the Frostfang Clan dropped to his knees, his hulking form now shrunken to a mere shadow of what it had been moments before. "This can''t be happening!" one of the younger warriors yelled as his voice cracked, his body now no larger than a common goblin''s. "We''re doomed!" another shouted in desperation, his voice full of hopelessness. The chieftains, those who had once mocked Volk for his arrogance, were now the most fearful of all. Their bodies were rapidly diminishing, and they looked to Volk in desperation. Their voices, once full of authority, were now shrill and weak. "Warchief!" one of them screamed, the title now more of a plea than an acknowledgment of his power. "You have to stop this!" "Stop what?" Volk snapped back, his patience thinning. "I didn''t cause this." "You must know something!" the Ironhide chieftain shouted, his voice trembling. "You have to fix this!" But Volk didn''t have the answers. He glanced at the rest of the Dreadmaw Clan, who remained unaffected. Their skin had been cleansed in the crystal''s light, sparing them from the curse that now afflicted the others. But Volk knew that this wasn''t going to end with just shrinking. If left unchecked, the Orcs would become as weak as goblins¡ªperhaps even weaker. As Volk pondered their fate, his gaze turned to the others who continued to shrink before his eyes. It was clear now¡ªwithout their Elven wives, they were doomed to wither away into nothing. But how could he stop it? Znnnng! A sudden chime broke through his thoughts. The sound echoed loudly in his mind. The system screen flashed before him, hovering in mid-air where only he could see. | Ding! | Mission: Have the Orcs have the highest kill count in the Ranker World within an hour! | Rewards: The other clans under the host will return to full strength and stop shrinking. | Failure: The host will shrink as well. | Volk''s eyes widened. "What...?" Before he could process the message, a low, rumbling noise filled the catacomb. The Orcs, now in full panic, turned toward the far wall, where a bright, glowing crack had appeared out of nowhere. The dimensional gap. The crack slowly widened, its edges pulsing with energy. Through it, they could see another world¡ªone filled with vast changing landscapes, strange creatures, and a sky that shimmered with the light of a distant sun. The Orcs stood frozen, staring in awe and confusion. "What is that?" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible. Volk clenched his fists, his jaw set in determination. He knew what had to be done. The system had given him a clear mission, and there was no room for failure. If he didn''t succeed, he too would shrink and weaken. But more importantly, the entire horde would fall apart. Their strength, their unity¡ªit all rested on his shoulders. Without a word, Volk turned to face the gap. He knew what this world was¡ªit was the Ranker World, a place of unknown. It could be a world where the strong dominated and the weak perished or something else entirely. He could hear the voices of the Orcs behind him, their panic growing louder as more of them continued to shrink. "What is this thing? Are our powers being sucked by this thing?" the Ironhide chieftain screamed, his once-proud voice now barely more than a squeak. Volk ignored them, his focus solely on the gap before him. He had one hour. One hour to claim the highest kill count and save his horde. His hand gripped the hilt of his weapon, and with a deep breath, he stepped forward into the unknown. As he crossed the threshold of the dimensional gap, anticipation thrummed in his veins. He expected the air to be thick with the scent of blood and battle, but all he felt was a disorienting emptiness. Volk''s mind began to create images of a scorched landscape, littered with the remnants of past conflicts. He imagined the silhouettes of countless creatures¡ªwarriors, beasts, monsters¡ªall poised for bloodshed. But as he moved deeper into the void, the world remained hidden from his sight. His senses heightened, he felt the ground shift beneath him, a subtle tremor echoing through the fabric of reality. He could almost hear the distant whispers of a chaotic battlefield, yet nothing materialized before him. Volk''s eyes narrowed, determination hardening his resolve. There was no turning back now. With a roar that echoed in the silence, he charged forward, his weapon raised high, ready to confront whatever lay ahead. Behind him, the screams of his shrinking horde faded into the distance as he set his sights on victory. The hour had begun. Chapter 121 - 121: Ranker world Volk stepped through the dimensional crack, and what greeted him wasn''t the endless fields of battle or monstrous landscapes he expected. He paused, his eyes widening as he took in the surroundings. "This¡­ This isn''t what I imagined the Ranker World would look like," he muttered in disbelief. The horizon stretched out before him, filled with familiar tall, looming structures, eerily familiar in their design. Skyscrapers. Roads. Even street lights flickered dimly overhead. His heartbeat quickened. What the hell? he thought, his hand tightening around his axe. The scene before him looked too much like Earth. Literally, like Earth. The streets, though cracked and littered with debris, still had the markings of a city he could have walked through in his previous life. Cars sat abandoned on the side of the road, some overturned, windows shattered. And yet, there was something off. The people¡ªthe civilians¡ªwere running, panicked, their faces filled with terror. They wore clothes he could have seen in any modern city: jeans, sneakers, coats, and jackets flapping wildly as they fled down the street. However, something was different. The fabric seemed more worn, more rugged, as if these people had been running for their lives for a long time. Sweat poured down their faces, and fear gripped their every step. But what were they running from? Volk''s eyes scanned the horizon, his breath steady even as his mind raced. Then he saw it. A shadow darted between the buildings¡ªfast, predatory. His instincts kicked in, and he spotted the creature chasing a woman, her scream echoing off the concrete walls. The thing pursuing her wasn''t human. Its hulking frame moved with unnatural speed, fur bristling in the wind, its eyes gleaming yellow in the twilight. A werewolf. Its claws scraped the pavement with each step, sparks flying as it closed the distance between itself and the helpless woman. Clackang! Clackackang! Volk''s protective instinct roared to life. His muscles tensed, and without thinking, his hand gripped his axe. His arm raised, the gleaming blade ready to be hurled through the air with deadly precision. But then¡ª sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Ding! A notification flashed across his vision, stopping him dead in his tracks. | The host will gain nothing for hurting or killing fellow Dungeon Crack creatures! | Would you like to continue? | His body froze. His mind raced. What? he thought, glancing between the system screen and the werewolf, which was closing in on the terrified woman. Why? The system''s words lingered in his head. He would gain nothing. No rewards. No boost. Nothing from killing a fellow creature of the Dungeon Crack. His grip on the axe tightened. For a moment, he hesitated. The system had rules¡ªrules he''d already failed once. Failing meant growing weaker. Failing meant being unable to protect his clan, unable to fulfill the mission. His mind flashed to the faces of the Dreadmaw Clan. And then¡­ to Solluha''r. The thought of losing strength, of becoming weak, of not being able to stand by her side¡ªit tore at him. But wasn''t he an Orc now? Shouldn''t he act like one? Should he care about rules when his instincts screamed at him to fight, to protect? Plus, don''t humans only care about themselves too? Plus, he''s not a human anymore, why would he care? His thoughts swirled in chaos, but before he could make a decision, the werewolf pounced immediately, with its claws outstretched toward the woman. No! Without thinking, Volk moved, but he wasn''t fast enough to stop the beast. The werewolf''s claws raked the air, and the woman let out a scream of pure terror. Schink! Before the beast could tear into her, a different sound echoed through the street. It was sharp, swift¡ªa whistle through the air. Thud! Volk''s axe struck, but not where he intended. The blade embedded itself in the woman''s skull, killing her instantly. Her scream was cut short, and her body immediately fell limp to the ground. The werewolf froze, its yellow eyes narrowing in confusion as it stared at its prey, now lifeless on the ground. And then its gaze shifted to Volk, who stood still, his chest heaving as his mind processed what he had just done. The werewolf''s snarl filled the air. Grrraaahhhh! It bared its fangs, saliva dripping from its maw. Volk had stolen its kill, and the beast wasn''t going to let that slide. It charged, claws scraping against the concrete as it lunged at Volk with unbridled rage. Volk''s lips curled into a snarl of his own. He didn''t hesitate this time. Thud! His fist collided with the werewolf''s face, a sickening crunch echoing in the street. The creature''s head snapped back with the force of the blow, but Volk wasn''t done. Bang! Another punch followed, this time sending the beast crashing into the ground with a resounding thump. The werewolf growled in defiance, trying to rise to its feet, but Volk didn''t give it a chance. His massive hands wrapped around its throat, and with a guttural roar, he lifted the creature off the ground, slamming it back down with a bone-shattering KABANG! The asphalt cracked beneath the weight of the impact, dust rising into the air. The werewolf''s body twitched, but Volk wasn''t done yet. He grabbed its limbs¡ªone by one¡ªhis muscles bulging as he pulled. Rip! The sound of tearing flesh filled the air as Volk tore the beast apart, he could hear the sounds of its fur and skin shredding in two mangle pieces like paper. Blood sprayed, painting the pavement red. With one final pull, the werewolf''s mangled body was flung to the side, landing in a heap of torn flesh and broken bones. Volk stood over the remains, his breath coming in heavy, controlled bursts. He wiped the blood from his knuckles, his gaze hardening as he looked around at the city. For a moment, silence fell, broken only by the distant sounds of civilians still fleeing in the distance. Volk looked up at the tall buildings that towered over him, their glass windows reflecting the fading light of the sky. This place¡­ It''s too much like Earth. But he wasn''t human anymore. Not Earth too. He stared at his green-skinned hands, the veins pulsing beneath the surface. He could feel the raw power coursing through his body, the strength that had come with being an Orc. There was no going back. "I''m not a human anymore," he muttered, his voice low, filled with certainty. "I''m an Orc." The words hung in the air as Volk turned his gaze back to the mangled remains of the werewolf. He didn''t feel regret for what he''d done. The system''s rules didn''t matter either. Not when survival was at stake. Not when the mission required strength. Volk took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering tension. The city around him was foreign, and nor Earth. He had to. The mission was still in motion, and the countdown was ticking. His eyes narrowed, scanning the cityscape once more. There was something bigger at play here. Something he didn''t yet understand. But whatever it was, he would face it head-on. As Volk stood tall, his shadow stretching across the bloodstained pavement, the distant hum of the city grew louder. He could feel it- more creatures lurking just beyond his sight, waiting for their chance. With a smirk, Volk turned, gripping his axe tightly. "I am an Orc!" Chapter 122 - 122: No honor Volk wiped the blood off his hands and flicked some of those to the side, he was still processing the world he had stepped into. The city streets were chaotic, the scent of fear and blood were spreading like heavy mist in the air, everywhere. As he stood amidst the towering buildings, a new system screen flashed before his eyes. Ding! The mechanical chime echoed in his head, and his eyes flicked to the floating screen. | Current Rank: | Orcs - Rank 881: 1 Kill | ___ | Top Ranked: | Asuras - Rank 1: 1890 Kills | His brow furrowed in surprise. Rank 881? One kill? He glanced down at the dismembered remains of the werewolf, and immediately, a sneer tugged at his lips. He''d just started, but the highest ranker¡ªthis Asura¡ªhad nearly two thousand kills? Volk clenched his fists, the blood on his knuckles cracking. His eyes scanned the area around him, falling on the other creatures stalking through the streets. Some of them were monstrous, others twisted versions of animals he had once known, but all of them shared the same goal. Their attention was focused on the weaker beings¡ªthe frail ones running for their lives. Volk squinted, piecing things together. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Wait a minute... His mind raced, his eyes darting from one fleeing figure to another. Are we¡­ in some kind of Ranker webtoon world? The realization of what was happening seemed to hit him hard, like a punch to the gut, piercing through his muscular abs. He''d read stories like this back in his old life, devouring webtoons and novels about apocalyptic scenarios and ranking systems. The dimensional cracks, the monsters pouring through, the weak fighting for survival¡ªit all started to make sense now. And we... He glanced at his hands again, at the muscular hands, the veins pulsing with unnatural and destructive power. We''re the monsters? He couldn''t help but let out a low chuckle, though there was no humor in it. The irony of the situation wasn''t lost on him. In his past life, he''d always imagined being one of the survivors, one of the humans fighting off the monstrous invaders. And now? He was on the other side of the equation, a beast from another dimension, sent to destroy. Volk was speechless. The sheer absurdity of it left him momentarily stunned. Suddenly, the sound of something heavy being kicked echoed from behind him. He turned and saw the mangled corpse of the werewolf sliding across the pavement. The Orcs from his clan were standing there, their eyes wide, waiting for him to lead. "Young Warchief!" one of them growled, his voice low and uncertain. "What do we do now?" Volk blinked, his mind snapping back to the present. The Orc behind him glanced at the humans¡ªthose fragile creatures still darting through the streets, trying to escape the monsters that were slowly closing in on them. Volk''s gaze followed. He watched as a blob-like creature slithered through the street, its gelatinous form undulating with sickening squelches. A human¡ªa woman in torn clothing¡ªwas sprinting down an alley, her breath ragged and panicked. She stumbled over debris, her face pale with terror as the blob closed in on her, its amorphous shape pulling her into its mass with a wet schlorp. Volk''s jaw tightened. He turned back to his clan. "We need to kill as many as we can," he said, his voice calm but firm. "If we don''t, all of you will shrink. And soon, you''ll be as weak as goblins." The Orcs looked at each other, hesitant. One of them, a large, scarred brute with tusks chipped from battle, pointed toward the humans. "These things?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. "You want us to kill¡­ those weaklings?" Volk''s eyes followed the Orc''s gesture, landing on a group of terrified humans huddled behind a broken-down vehicle. They were shaking, eyes wide, whispering frantically among themselves as they watched the monsters roam the streets. "Yes," Volk said, his voice steady. "Them." The Orcs shuffled nervously. They weren''t used to killing something that couldn''t fight back. They thrived on the thrill of battle, the adrenaline that came from facing a strong opponent. But here¡­ these humans were different. They weren''t warriors. They were prey. "But Warchief¡­" one of the younger Orcs muttered, scratching his head. "These things are too weak. There''s no glory in it. Are you sure this is the right move?" Volk''s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Look around you. See the monsters?" He pointed to the blob creature that had now finished absorbing its prey, its gelatinous mass rippling as it moved on to find its next victim. "They aren''t attacking each other. Only the weak things." The Orcs followed his gaze, watching the other creatures moving through the streets. The werewolves, the blobs, the twisted beasts¡ªthey weren''t fighting amongst themselves. They were all focused on hunting the same prey. The weaklings. Realization dawned on the Orcs, and a murmur ran through the group. Volk watched them for a moment, his mind whirring as he processed the situation. "I know, although we shouldn''t do it, we would be weakened if we don''t. Just consider them a hunting target for a real things," he said. Making the Orcs behind him narrowed their eyes and then immediately nodding their heads. This world, the ranking system, the apocalypse¡­ It was like a twisted game, where the strong preyed on the weak to climb the ranks. And right now, the Orcs were at the bottom. Rank 881. If they wanted to survive¡ªif they wanted to keep their strength¡ªthey had to follow the rules of this world. They had to play the game. "Do it," Volk commanded, his voice like steel. "Hunt them. Kill them. Or we all shrink." The Orcs shifted uneasily, their eyes darting between Volk and the humans. There was still hesitation in the air, uncertainty hanging over the group like a dark cloud. Volk''s hand shot up suddenly, and his voice boomed, "Wait!" The Orcs froze, staring at him, waiting for his next command. Volk''s brow furrowed, his mind racing. Something felt off. Yes, they needed to kill, but there had to be a smarter way to approach this. He wasn''t a mindless brute, and neither were his clan. He had to think strategically. If this really is a ranking world, there must be a way to climb quickly. A way to exploit the system. He glanced at the nearby buildings, the humans still running, the monsters continuing their hunt. His mind flashed to the leaderboard¡ªAsuras with 1890 kills. They had to be killing efficiently, not just wandering aimlessly like beasts. Volk lowered his hand, eyes sharp as he scanned the city. He could feel the weight of the system, the unspoken rules of this twisted world pressing down on him. But he wasn''t about to make a rash move. He was smarter than that. Stronger. With a deep breath, Volk nodded to himself. "Let me think first," he said, his voice calm but authoritative. The Orcs stood at attention, waiting, as Volk''s gaze swept over the city once more. Somewhere The Orcs stood at attention, waiting, as Volk''s gaze swept over the city once more. Somewhere out there, the higher ranks were playing the game. But Volk wasn''t going to rush in blindly. He would figure this out. And when he did, nothing would stop him from climbing to the top. Chapter 123 - 123: Collapses Volk''s mind churned with ideas as he surveyed the city now turned into a battlefield. The sprawling cityscape was crawling with monsters, and high above, some bat-like creatures were clawing their way up a thirty-story building, their leathery wings flapping as they attempted to reach the humans hiding inside. Volk''s sharp eyes followed them, and a plan began to form. He noticed the glint of fear in the eyes of the humans inside the building. They were clustered near the windows, watching helplessly as their doom slowly climbed toward them. It wasn''t just the monsters. The building itself seemed to pulse with tension, as if it knew its time was limited. Volk turned to his Orcs. His sharp gaze flicked between them, calculating, planning. He knew a building would have plenty of humans. It was a massive number, and in this ranking world, every kill counted, and he needed to kill as much as he could. He needed to make the most of every opportunity. He grinned, his lips curling back to reveal his tusks. Yes, this would do. "How many Orcs do we have here??" Volk growled, his voice low and commanding. One of the Orcs, a stout warrior with a massive scar across his face, stepped forward. "About a hundred and sixty, Warchief," he rumbled, glancing up at the building nervously. The bat-creatures were now halfway up, their screeches echoing through the air as their claws raked against the building''s surface. Volk frowned. A hundred and sixty wasn''t much, but it was enough to destroy the buildings. More than enough. With a sudden, fierce energy, Volk straightened up, towering over the other Orcs. His eyes gleamed with determination, the weight of command settling on his broad shoulders. He had to act fast. "Listen up!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the street like a thunderclap. Every Orc turned toward him, their eyes wide, awaiting his orders. "We''re not gonna waste time hunting down every human one by one. That''s not how we rise. We need to think bigger. We''re taking down the whole damned building." The Orcs looked at each other, confused murmurs spreading through the ranks. One of them, a younger Orc with nervous eyes, spoke up. "Warchief... destroy the whole building? How...?" Volk''s gaze shot to him, silencing the doubt with a mere look. "It''s simple. This is a thin building, as long as we take out the foundation. Bring the entire structure down. Everyone inside will be crushed." A few of the Orcs grinned, their excitement bubbling to the surface as they imagined the carnage. Others remained unsure, still trying to wrap their heads around the plan. They are always thinking Volk would always lead them through brute force, but this? This was something different. This was strategy. Volk stepped forward, standing tall, his eyes burning with intensity. "Look around you!" he growled, gesturing to the chaos of the city. "The other monsters are focused on picking off weaklings one at a time. But we''re not like them. We think. We plan. We take them all out in one go and rise to the top in a single strike." The Orcs'' confusion faded as his words sank in. Their uncertainty turned into excitement, the thought of mass destruction and the promise of victory lighting a fire in their eyes. "But Warchief," one of the older Orcs grunted, "how do we take down a building that big?" Volk turned his gaze back to the thirty-story tower, the bat-creatures still crawling up its sides, the humans inside scrambling to protect themselves. He could already see the weak points. The cracks in the foundation. The places where the weight of the building was most vulnerable. "We hit it where it''s weakest," Volk said, his voice steady and confident. "At the base. We tear through the foundation. When it collapses, the building will crush everyone inside. And we''ll take the kills." The Orcs nodded, their doubts erased. Volk could see the bloodlust in their eyes, their desire for victory and power. They were ready to follow him to the end. He grinned. "Get to work. Now. But make sure one part of this city was not demolished, maybe we can use them later." The Orcs were surprised, but Volk''s expression of urinh make them immediately sprang into action. Their heavy footsteps thundered as they charged toward the base of the building, massive hands gripping axes and clubs, ready to tear through concrete and steel. Volk followed, his eyes scanning the structure, calculating every move, every strike. The ground trembled as the first blow landed, a massive club smashing into the foundation with a deafening CRASH. Dust and debris rained down, but the Orcs didn''t falter. Another blow followed, then another. The cracks in the building''s base grew wider with each strike, spreading like veins through the concrete. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Volk stood back, arms crossed, watching as his clan worked tirelessly. His sharp eyes tracked the progress, ensuring every strike was placed exactly where it needed to be. The ground beneath the building began to tremble, the entire structure groaning as it struggled to remain upright. The humans inside the building screamed, their panic rising as the walls began to shake. They clung to each other, their faces pale with terror as the realization set in. There was no escape. Volk''s grin widened. "Harder!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Bring it down!" The Orcs doubled their efforts, their massive bodies slamming into the building''s foundation with all their strength. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. CRACK! The sound of breaking stone echoed through the streets, followed by the groaning of steel beams beginning to buckle under the pressure. Volk could feel the moment coming. The building was on the verge of collapse. All it needed was one final push. "Now!" he bellowed, his voice rising above the roar of destruction. "Everyone, together!" With a united roar, the Orcs delivered one last, earth-shattering blow. BOOM! The foundation gave way, the ground beneath the building crumbling into dust. For a brief moment, the entire structure seemed to hang in the air, suspended by the tension in the very earth itself. And then, with a deafening CRASH, the building began to fall. The humans inside screamed, their cries lost in the roar of collapsing concrete and steel. The bat-creatures screeched in panic, flapping their wings uselessly as the building crumbled around them. There was no escape. No way out. Volk watched, his heart pounding with adrenaline, as the tower crumbled to the ground. Dust and debris filled the air, but the sound of destruction was all he needed. The massive structure came down in a single, earth-shaking crash, and the lives of those inside were snuffed out in an instant. For a few moments, the city was silent. The ground still trembled beneath Volk''s feet, the weight of the destruction settling into the earth. And then, as the dust began to clear, a familiar chime echoed in his mind. Ding! Volk glanced at the system screen as it materialized before him. | Current Rank: Orcs - Rank 1: 3,009 Kills | He let out a slow, satisfied breath. Rank 1. They''d done it. He''d done it. Behind him, the Orcs were celebrating, their roars of victory echoing through the ruined city. But Volk''s mind was already racing ahead, thinking of the next step. He was no longer just an Orc. He was something more. Something stronger. And this world? This ranking system? It was just the beginning. Volk turned, his eyes scanning the horizon, already plotting his next move. Let them come, he thought, his heart pounding with excitement. Let them all come. Because now, he wasn''t just surviving this world. He was going to conquer it. However, Volk knew there was still plenty of time left, he needed to make sure that horde would never be surpassed! Chapter 124 - 124: Ranked Pillars Far away, in the bustling Ranker country of Korena, chaos reigned in the heart of one of its sprawling cities. Towering buildings stood like silent sentinels as six-armed demons rampaged through the streets, their monstrous figures covered in thick, leathery skin. Each of their six arms wielded a weapon¡ªa twisted amalgamation of jagged steel and bone. With every swing, cars were torn in half, and chunks of concrete flew through the air, sending panicked citizens fleeing in every direction. But amidst the chaos, a lone figure descended from the sky, landing on the cracked asphalt with a soft thud. The man wore a pristine black suit, sharply tailored, with polished shoes that gleamed under the flickering streetlights. His sword, strapped neatly to his back, shimmered in the waning sunlight. His presence alone seemed to calm the panic-stricken crowd, and a ripple of hope spread through the bystanders. "Look! It''s a ranked Pillar!" A cry of relief rose from the crowd. "We''re saved!" shouted a woman, clutching her child. Others echoed her sentiment, the tension in the air easing slightly. The man, expression cold and calculating, ignored the cheers. His eyes, sharp as a hawk''s, locked onto the six-armed demons wreaking havoc down the street. Without a word, he raised his left wrist and tapped on the sleek, metallic bracelet that adorned it. The holographic interface flickered to life, glowing faintly in the dimming light. He swiped through the data quickly, analyzing the creatures before him. F-Class threat. His lip twitched in mild annoyance. F-Class? This isn''t even worth my time. I hope there are others that could at least make the blade or mine feast and evolve. Without further delay, he reached behind his back and unsheathed his sword. The blade, long and slender, shimmered with a faint blue glow, the edge so fine that it seemed to cut the very air around it. The man stepped forward, calm and composed, as if the destruction around him was nothing more than a passing inconvenience. The first demon, oblivious to the man''s approach, raised its massive club-like arm to crush a nearby building. The moment the creature began its swing, the man moved. In a blink, he was behind it, his sword already sheathed. Shnk. For a moment, the demon paused, confusion flickering across its grotesque features. Then, with a sickening squelch, its torso slid apart, neatly severed in two. The top half collapsed to the ground, lifeless, as dark blood sprayed across the street. The man didn''t even glance back at his fallen foe. The remaining demons, alerted by the death of their comrade, roared in fury. Their eyes burned with malevolent rage, and they charged at the man in unison, their six arms swinging wildly in an attempt to crush him under sheer brute force. But the man didn''t flinch. His movements were fluid, almost graceful, as he sidestepped the first demon''s flurry of strikes. Each swing missed by mere inches, the wind from their blows tousling his hair, but he remained untouched. His sword flashed once, twice, and with each swift motion, another demon crumpled to the ground, lifeless. CRASH! The street shook as a demon hurled itself toward the man, bringing down both of its massive fists in an attempt to flatten him. The impact sent cracks spidering through the pavement, but when the dust cleared, the man was nowhere to be seen. He had moved in a blur, faster than the eye could track, appearing behind the demon with his sword held at the ready. With one fluid slash, the demon''s head tumbled from its shoulders, landing with a dull thud. The remaining demons, now fully aware of the man''s prowess, hesitated. Their primal instincts told them to flee, but before they could retreat, the man was already upon them. His blade cut through the air with deadly precision, slicing through demonic flesh like it was paper. Each strike was methodical, each movement calculated. There was no wasted energy, no hesitation. The fight was over in seconds. The last demon fell to its knees, blood gushing from its severed limbs. Its once terrifying roars were now nothing more than pitiful gurgles as it collapsed onto the pavement, defeated. The man in the neat suit stood amidst the carnage, his sword gleaming with the blood of his enemies. He flicked his wrist, and the dark liquid splattered off the blade before he sheathed it once more. The crowd, still watching from a distance, erupted into cheers. The chaos had been brought to a swift end, and their savior stood victorious. But the man''s expression remained unchanged. He wasn''t here for glory or praise. Suddenly, the sound of rotors cutting through the air filled the street. A military helicopter descended from the clouds, its powerful engines kicking up dust and debris. It hovered above the street before slowly landing in front of the man. The door slid open, revealing a soldier in a crisp military uniform, his eyes sharp and focused. "Commander Lin," the soldier called out, his voice barely audible over the roar of the helicopter''s blades. "We need you." Commander Lin glanced up, his face impassive. "What is it?" The soldier''s expression was grim. "Several C-Class monsters have appeared in Bousan. We need you to take them out. Immediately." Lin''s eyes narrowed slightly. C-Class? C-Class threats? This might be a challenge. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. As Commander Lin''s helicopter ascended into the sky, the familiar hum of the rotors filled the cabin. The city below grew smaller, its chaotic streets now distant and insignificant. Lin''s eyes, sharp and unwavering, scanned the horizon ahead. The mission in Bousan weighed on his mind, but there was something else¡ªsomething subtle, yet undeniably present¡ªstirring in the air. Suddenly, through the haze of the clouds, several dark shapes appeared on the horizon. At first, they were mere specks in the distance, but as the helicopter drew closer, Lin realized what they were: more helicopters, identical to his own, flying in formation. The sound of their blades reverberated through the sky, creating a synchronized rhythm. Inside each helicopter, he could make out figures seated in the cabin. Like him, they were clad in sleek, tailored suits, their weapons polished and ready. The rank Pillars. A group of elites, chosen for their exceptional combat prowess, scattered across Korena''s ranks to tackle the most dangerous of threats. Lin''s eyes flicked from helicopter to helicopter, noting the faces of the other rank Pillars. Some he recognized¡ªlike Jin, a ruthless swordsman who never spoke more than a word at a time, and Kira, a sniper with precision unmatched by any other. Others were less familiar, but their reputations preceded them. These were the ones sent in when all else failed, and failure was not an option. The radios crackled to life. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Rank Pillars, prepare for engagement," came the voice of a commanding officer. "C-Class monsters confirmed in Bousan. Execute the mission without hesitation." Lin tightened his grip on his sword, his gaze steady. The sky was filled with rank Pillars. The battle ahead would be nothing short of a spectacle. One by one, they would see the city, and they suddenly saw, just in time, a building collapsing. Chapter 125 - 125: Back to power The air in the city was thick with the acrid smell of dust and debris. The ground trembled as the final towering building, now reduced to a crumbling shell of steel and concrete, collapsed with a resounding crash. BOOM! The sound echoed through the streets, shaking the ground beneath Volk''s feet. He stood amidst the chaos, towering above the shattered ruins, his breath steady and controlled. His muscular and massive Orc frame glistened with sweat, and as he wiped his brow, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His eyes, glowing with a fierce satisfaction, scanned the screen only he could see. Ding! | Rank 1 - Orcs: 63,729 kills. | The numbers flashed in front of him, stark and undeniable. He had done it. A smirk crept onto his face. The mission was a success, but it wasn''t just the victory that pleased him. It was the battle itself¡ªthe raw, unfiltered chaos, the bloodshed, the satisfaction of dominating an entire city. "I can''t believe that killing humans wouldn''t make me feel anything. Is this because I am an Orc now?" Volk asked himself, wondering. He imagined himself vomiting after killing a human, but instead, he felt even more pleased. Soon, his knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists, still feeling the residual power coursing through him. The orcs around him, his warriors, stood silent for a moment, their gazes shifting toward him as they sensed the shift in the air. Suddenly, another screen flickered before Volk''s eyes. Ding! | Mission: Have the Orcs achieve the highest kill count in the Ranker World within an hour! | Rewards: The other clans under the host will return to full strength and stop shrinking. | Failure: The host will shrink as well. | Mission Status: Completed. | A low rumble spread through the group as the significance of the moment settled in. One of the orcs, smaller and more hunched than the rest, suddenly straightened up, his eyes widening in surprise. His frame began to swell, his muscles expanding, and his skin darkened to a deep, healthy green. Volk turned toward him, his gaze steady but alert. "Hmm?" The smaller orc''s transformation was swift but noticeable. He grunted, looking down at his hands as they grew back to their former size. His body pulsed with raw energy, the very essence of orcish strength returning to him. Gasps filled the air. "Look!" one orc shouted, pointing at the transforming warrior. "He''s... he''s back!" The excitement spread like wildfire. Soon, the other orcs, smaller from the strange curse of the dungeon, felt the same sensation ripple through their bodies. One by one, they began to grow, their bodies filling out, muscles bulging, and their skin darkening to the deep shades that marked their strength and vitality. Thud. Thud. Their feet stomped into the ground as they regained their full height, towering once more like the titans they were meant to be. "By the ancestors!" another orc gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. "It''s true! The curse¡ªit''s lifting!" A chorus of gasps, followed by guttural cheers, rose into the air. The once-shrinking orcs, who had been reduced to trembling shadows of their former selves, were now standing tall again. The atmosphere was electric, every orc who had felt the creeping fear of weakness now roared with exhilaration. Weapons were raised high into the air, and the thundering sound of feet stomping in unison made the very ground tremble beneath them. "Volk! Warchief!" one of the orcs shouted, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You did it! You saved us! By the Orc Gods!" "Look at them!" another orc exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment as he pointed to the rapidly growing crowd. "Every clan, back to full strength!" Volk stood at the center of it all, his expression calm and composed, but there was a glint in his eye that spoke of his satisfaction. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, muscles taut beneath his green skin. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The cheers of his warriors echoed around him, a symphony of victory that filled the broken city. Each orc who looked to him did so with reverence, their voices thick with respect and awe. "Never doubted the Warchief!" an orc called out from the crowd. Others echoed him, their voices raised in triumph. "We follow you, Warchief!" another roared. "To the ends of this cursed world if need be!" Volk''s gaze swept over his warriors, a deep sense of pride swelling within him. They had faced impossible odds, had been driven to the brink of despair by the shrinking curse, and yet here they stood¡ªstronger, fiercer, and more united than ever before. He knew that this victory was only the beginning. The other realms, the creatures of this world¡ªthey would all come to know the might of the Orc Horde. No, the nuclear Orc Horde! Suddenly, Volk would touch his chin with his finger and begin to think, "Hmmm¡­ what kind of system do I have again?" He wondered, it was need stated. And then, a sound, faint at first, but growing louder, pierced through the cheers. Whop-whop-whop-whop. The unmistakable sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air. Volk''s ears twitched, and his eyes narrowed as he turned toward the sky. The roar of engines grew closer, and soon, dark shapes appeared on the horizon. Helicopters¡ªmetal beasts of human design, hovering above the ruins like vultures over a carcass. One by one, they materialized, sleek black machines against the smoky backdrop of the city. There were several of them, their blades slicing through the air with mechanical precision. "What are those?" one of the orcs muttered, his voice tinged with both awe and suspicion. Another orc squinted up at the helicopters, frowning. "Flying machines¡­ humans use them in their wars. But why are they here?" Volk''s gaze remained fixed on the sky, his mind working quickly. These were no ordinary machines. Helicopters! Something told him that the presence of so many helicopters was not a coincidence. As they drew closer, he could make out figures inside the cockpits¡ªhumans, their faces grim, focused. They were not here for rescue. No, these humans had come for something else entirely. "Warchief," one of the orcs growled, stepping up beside Volk. "Should we prepare for battle?" Volk said nothing for a moment, his eyes tracking the lead helicopter as it hovered overhead. His sharp instincts told him that the appearance of these machines was no accident. But he was calm, unshaken. The city, now a graveyard of rubble and broken glass, was theirs. These humans were intruding on orcish territory. The helicopter doors slid open with a hiss, revealing more figures inside. He could feel some kind of faint and controlled hazardous magic particles in their presence. Volk recognized the humans from stories passed down in this new world¡ªelite warriors, the kind that nations sent when they wanted swift and decisive action. But why here? Why now? Suddenly, he would shake his head. Of course, after wrecking havoc, the would surely send their top level warriors, of course. He felt the weight of the axe in his hand, the blade still warm from his recent kills. A storm was brewing, and he knew that what came next would be a clash unlike any other. Volk''s voice, deep and steady, broke the silence. "Hold your ground." The orcs obeyed immediately, each one of them having eyes glowing with readiness. They were ready to follow their Warchief into any battle, no matter the foe. And as the helicopters circled above, like vultures awaiting the feast, Volk smiled to himself. Let them come. The orcs had never feared a fight. Chapter 126 - 126: Escape from the open The rhythmic hum of the helicopter''s blades slicing through the air grew louder as the aircraft descended toward the city, casting ominous shadows across the debris-laden streets below. Inside, tension is so heavy in the copter. The soldiers, clad in tactical gear, each with rifles secured to their chests, sat in silence, their gazes locked on the small windows where the ruins of the city sprawled out beneath them. Yet, amidst the wreckage, something else caught their attention¡ªmoving figures. A horde of orcs. Sergeant Kim, the squad leader, was the first to speak, breaking the uneasy quiet with a sharp intake of breath. "There they are," he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed in disbelief. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His fingers tapped restlessly against his rifle, the weight of the decision ahead pressing down on him. Beside him, Corporal Han adjusted his helmet, voice tight with concern. "Should we fire now? We could wipe them out before they even see us." His hand hovered near the trigger of the mounted machine gun, the urge to act already pulsating through his veins. The radio crackled, and Lin Seok''s calm voice came through, cutting through the uncertainty like a knife. "No." The soldiers exchanged confused glances. Lin Seok''s reputation preceded him. He was one of the Pillars, an elite group of warriors, but this was different. These weren''t just ordinary enemies¡ªthey were orcs, massive, hulking creatures who had just destroyed half the city. The decision to hold fire seemed counterintuitive, almost suicidal. "Sir," Sergeant Kim began, his voice steady but laced with worry. "We''ve got a clear shot from up here. Are you sure you don''t want us to¡ª" "Hold your fire," Lin Seok interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "They''ve already noticed us. Dropping warriors into that mess without thinking first could cost us more than we gain." The soldiers exchanged uneasy looks, then reluctantly followed orders. The preparation for an attack was painstakingly slow as they geared up, ensuring every clip was full, every grenade properly secured. There was a certain ritual to it, a process that calmed their nerves even as their hearts raced faster. Sergeant Kim ran a hand over his rifle, checking the sights for the third time, while others tightened their harnesses, their bodies tense with anticipation. Meanwhile, Lin Seok peered through the front of the helicopter, his sharp eyes locking onto the orcs below. He was calm¡ªtoo calm for the situation, which unnerved some of the younger soldiers. As the chopper dipped lower, the details of the orcs became clearer. They weren''t just mindless brutes. No, these creatures moved with purpose, their hulking frames casting long shadows as they made their way toward the intact part of the city, avoiding the half they had already decimated. Corporal Han, peering through a scope, frowned. "They''re moving away from the destruction. Sir, they''re heading toward the untouched part of the city." Lin Seok''s brow furrowed slightly, his mind racing as he processed the orcs'' strategy. It wasn''t just brute force that had gotten them this far. They were being tactical. He leaned forward, studying their movement, and then it clicked. "They''re using the humans as shields," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His lips curled into a smile. "Smart." Sergeant Kim glanced back, unsure if he had heard correctly. "Smart, sir?" "They destroyed half the city," Lin Seok said, sitting back, his arms crossed over his chest. "But they''ve left the other half standing. There are still humans in those buildings, and those orcs know it. They''re counting on us hesitating because of the civilians." The helicopter rattled slightly as it adjusted its course, and the soldiers in the back, now fully prepped and ready, held onto their gear. They were itching for a fight, but Lin Seok''s words made them pause. The idea of using humans as shields sent a ripple of discomfort through the cabin. Private Lee, his voice barely above a whisper, looked toward Sergeant Kim. "What if they''re right? What if we can''t fire without hitting civilians?" Sergeant Kim''s jaw tightened, his thoughts racing. The orcs weren''t mindless monsters¡ªthis was a calculated move. They were forcing the soldiers into a moral dilemma: fire and risk civilian lives, or hold back and give the orcs an advantage. His mind churned with possibilities, the weight of every decision pressing down on him. Lin Seok''s gaze swept over his squad. He could see the hesitation, the uncertainty etched into their faces. They were soldiers, trained to follow orders, but this situation was testing them in ways they hadn''t anticipated. And Lin Seok couldn''t blame them. He chuckled softly, breaking the tension. "Do these orcs really think they''ve got the upper hand just because there are humans in the buildings?" Sergeant Kim shot him a glance. "With all due respect, sir, they might." Lin Seok waved a hand dismissively. "Let me handle them." Corporal Han, glancing at Lin Seok''s serene expression, frowned. "Sir, are you sure? These creatures¡ª" "They''re underestimating us." Lin Seok''s eyes flashed with confidence. "They think we won''t attack because they''ve taken cover among the civilians. But they''ve forgotten one thing." "And what''s that?" Sergeant Kim asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Lin Seok''s grin widened as he checked the sword strapped to his side, its blade gleaming faintly even in the dim light of the helicopter. "We''re the Pillars." The soldiers shifted uneasily, still unsure. They knew the Pillars were powerful, beyond ordinary soldiers, but facing a horde of orcs that had already torn through a city seemed like a different kind of fight. The helicopter trembled slightly as it neared the ground. The sound of its rotors beating through the air grew louder, and the tension inside the cabin reached a boiling point. Suddenly, the orcs below, as if sensing the impending arrival of the soldiers, raised their massive shields. The glint of metal and roughhide reflected in the sunlight as the shields locked into place, creating a barrier between the orcs and the helicopters above. Sergeant Kim swore under his breath. "They''re preparing for an assault." Corporal Han leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "They''re smarter than we thought, sir. They''re moving toward the buildings that are still intact." From their elevated vantage point, the soldiers watched as the orcs made their way toward the remaining structures, their shields raised defensively. In the distance, human civilians could be seen through the shattered windows of the buildings¡ªpeople, huddled in fear, unaware that they were being used as leverage in a brutal game of survival. Lin Seok''s eyes gleamed with amusement. "They think we won''t attack them because of the civilians." He stood up from his seat, the low ceiling of the helicopter making him duck slightly as he approached the front of the cabin. The soldiers watched him closely, their hands still gripping their weapons, uncertain of what was about to happen next. Without warning, Lin Seok turned to the military personnel seated near the cockpit. "Drop us," he ordered, his voice steady and firm. The personnel looked shocked, exchanging bewildered glances before one of them stammered, "Sir, are you sure? There are still civilians down there. If we drop¡ª" Lin Seok raised a hand, cutting him off. His expression was calm but resolute. "Trust me. We can handle it. The Pillars will deal with the orcs. The civilians won''t be harmed." The military personnel hesitated for only a moment before nodding. They had no reason to doubt a Pillar, after all. Lin Seok''s confidence was contagious, and soon, the others in the helicopter began to feel it too. As the helicopter prepared for the drop, Sergeant Kim leaned toward Corporal Han. "We''re really doing this?" Corporal Han shook his head with a bemused smile. "If Lin Seok says he can handle it, I''m not going to argue." The aircraft descended lower, the city''s broken landscape rising up to meet them. Lin Seok stood at the ready, his eyes locked on the orc horde below, their shields still raised, unaware of what was about to hit them. "Let''s show them what the Pillars are made of," Lin Seok said, his voice low but brimming with anticipation. And then, without another word, they dropped. Chapter 127 - 127: Elusive Pillars Volk''s eyes narrowed as he stood among the rubble, towering over the remains of the collapsed buildings. His muscled frame cast a long shadow across the cracked pavement. He scanned the sky, his keen senses immediately spotting the helicopters approaching on the horizon. The loud whup-whup-whup of the choppers'' blades grew louder, and with it came a sense of anticipation. Suddenly, a familiar ding echoed in his mind, and a system screen flashed before his eyes. Ding! | Mission: Murder all the Ranked Pillars within an hour. | Ranked Pillars: 0/25. | Reward: Travel to Orzaroth. | Failure: The host will no longer be able to use Nuclear Devastation attacks in Grum-Gar form. | Mission Status: Ongoing. | Volk''s heart skipped a beat. No more Nuclear Devastation Strike? He clenched his fist, with reality slowly sinking into him. That attack was his most powerful weapon, the one that had turned the tide in battle against the Warlock. But worse than losing the attack, it meant something deeper¡ªit meant his chance of seeing Solluha''r, his wife, would be lost. A scowl formed across his rough features, and his yellowed tusks glinted in the dying sunlight. The thought of being cut off from Orzaroth, from Solluha''r, was unacceptable. A slow, calculating smile spread across his face, revealing his sharpened teeth. "I won''t let that happen," Volk growled, his voice deep and guttural. His glowing eyes flickered as he turned to face the Horde of orcs that stood behind him. "Into the city!" Volk bellowed. His voice boomed through the desolate streets like thunder, and the orcs behind him stirred, their massive shields clinking against their armor as they prepared to move. "We can''t afford to be out here in the open. If those flying insects rain down fire from above, we''ll be crushed." The orcs grunted in agreement, some snarling, eager for the bloodshed to come. Volk raised his hand, motioning them forward, and the Horde began to move. The ground shook beneath their feet as they made their way into the part of the city where buildings still stood intact, tall and looming, their windows shattered but their walls mostly undamaged. The sound of their march echoed in the ruins, a rhythmic thud-thud-thud as their boots hit the pavement. Volk kept his eyes on the sky, watching as the helicopters circled like vultures. He could feel it in his gut¡ªthose weren''t just soldiers. Something else was coming. Something eerie. The ranked Pillars. He could sense their presence even before the system mission had appeared. The Pillars were near. As they entered the deeper part of the city, Volk''s instincts flared. The buildings here were perfect for cover, but also for an ambush. He knew it, and so did his Horde. The tension in the air was thick, the orcs moving cautiously now, shields raised, ready for anything. Their heavy breathing mixed with the distant whir of the choppers, creating an eerie symphony of impending conflict. And then it came. Fwoosh! A blur of movement, too fast to track with the naked eye, cut through the air. One of the orcs stumbled as his shield was struck with blinding speed. CLANG! The impact rang out like a bell, reverberating off the surrounding buildings. Volk''s head snapped toward the source of the attack, but before he could process what he''d seen, another strike hit. BANG! Another shield, this time from the right. The attack was relentless. The orcs tried to defend, but the speed of the enemy was overwhelming. They were under attack from all sides, but their enemies were invisible, mere shadows darting between the buildings. "Hold the line!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. His Horde responded immediately, shifting into defensive formation, shields interlocking like the scales of a dragon. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their hulking forms created a near-impenetrable wall, but the attacks kept coming, faster and faster, like a deadly rainstorm. BAM! BAM! BAM! Every blow was blocked, but the sheer force of the strikes was pushing them back, step by step. Volk''s mind began to think of something else. These weren''t ordinary soldiers. No human could move that fast. His instincts screamed at him to think quickly. This had to be the Pillars. He needed to act before his Horde was overwhelmed. With a sharp grunt, Volk raised his massive hand. "Set the trap!" The orcs, well-trained and battle-hardened, moved swiftly despite their size. They began positioning themselves, spreading out along the narrow streets and alleyways, using the intact buildings as natural choke points. Volk''s plan was simple¡ªlure the attackers into a false sense of superiority and then crush them with brute force. He''d seen this work in countless battles before, and it would work again. But these attackers were different. As the last orc took his position, a moment of silence fell. The attacks stopped. Volk''s eyes darted around the area, searching for any sign of movement. For a moment, everything was still. The air was thick with tension, every orc bracing for the next wave. And then, it happened. SWISH! The first attack came from above, straight down from the rooftop of a nearby building. A glowing blade sliced through the air, aimed directly at one of the larger orcs in the rear formation. The orc raised his shield, but the speed of the strike was too fast. CLANG! The shield held, but barely. The orc stumbled back, his arm shaking from the impact. Volk''s eyes widened. These weren''t normal attacks. They were coordinated, precise, and deadly. Before Volk could issue another order, three more figures appeared, darting between the buildings, their movements so quick they were almost a blur. These were no ordinary warriors. These were Pillars that the system speaks of! How is he gonna kill them if they were these damn fast? BAM! A second orc was hit, his shield knocked aside by an unseen force. The orcs tried to close in on the attackers, but the speed and agility of the Pillars made it impossible. They slipped through the gaps in the defenses like smoke, striking and retreating before the orcs could retaliate. Volk growled in frustration. "Trap them! Close in!" But the trap was useless. The Pillars moved too fast, too unpredictably. Every time an orc swung his axe or slammed his shield, the Pillars were already gone, a blur of motion disappearing into the shadows. The Horde was growing desperate. Even Volk could feel it¡ªthe frustration, the anger. His plan was failing. One of the Pillars, a figure in a sleek, dark uniform with a glowing sword in each hand, stood atop a nearby building, looking down on Volk with a smirk. "You think you can trap us?" the Pillar sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. "We are the ranked Pillars. Your brute force means nothing." Volk''s teeth ground together, his blood boiling. He had never faced opponents like this before, not even Zenveil. These were foes that couldn''t be overwhelmed by sheer strength alone. They required something more. But Volk was not about to give up. Not now. Not when he was so close to completing his mission, to seeing Solluha''r again. With a roar that shook the very foundations of the city, Volk charged forward, his massive axe raised high. He would crush them. He would rip these Pillars apart with his bare hands if he had to. But as he swung his axe, aiming for the figure atop the building, the Pillar vanished in a blur of motion, reappearing behind him in the blink of an eye. "Too slow," the Pillar taunted, his sword flashing as he slashed at Volk''s back. Volk spun around, his massive fist swinging out to meet the Pillar, but once again, the attacker was gone, slipping through his grasp like water. The battle was turning into a game of cat and mouse, and Volk hated it. But he wasn''t going to lose. Not here. Not now. "Come at me, cowards!" Volk roared, his voice echoing through the city. "Face me head-on, or are you too weak?" The Pillars paused, their movements slowing as they considered Volk''s challenge. For a moment, it seemed like they would accept. But then, in a flash, they vanished again, leaving Volk and his Horde standing in the ruins of the city, their trap useless. And for the first time in a long while, Volk felt doubt creeping into his mind. How to kill them? Did the system miscalculated? Chapter 128 - 128: Pillars approach Inside the building, the dim light flickered as Lin Seok stood at the center, his sharp gaze fixed on the map of the city sprawled across the table. The soft hum of electronics, along with the distant sound of helicopters outside, created an uneasy atmosphere. Beside him, a group of elite warriors¡ªeach a Pillar of the Ranker world¡ªgathered, their expressions tense but focused. Among them were Jin, the stoic swordsman, his katana resting casually on his back, and Kira, the sniper, who silently cleaned the barrel of her high-tech rifle. Lin Seok leaned over the table, running his finger across the map. His brow furrowed as he spoke, his voice calm but authoritative. "Those orcs... they''re not just brutes. They''re slow, yes, but that''s not the problem. Their battle instincts are... terrifying." Jin, standing with his arms crossed, nodded slowly. "They''re reading our movements, Lin. They know where we''re going to strike before we do." Kira glanced up from her rifle, her sharp eyes narrowing. "That''s impossible. Orcs shouldn''t be able to react that quickly. Not unless... they''ve fought battles like this before." Lin Seok sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It''s not just speed or strength. It''s something more primal. Every time we launch an attack, they shift their positions, as if they can sense it coming. They defend, but it''s not reactionary. It''s... instinctive." Jin tapped his fingers against his sword hilt. "That makes them incredibly dangerous. They don''t have the speed to match us, but their ability to predict our strikes neutralizes that advantage. It''s almost like fighting someone who''s fought a hundred battles before you''ve even unsheathed your sword." Kira smirked slightly, her voice laced with dry humor. "So, what you''re saying is, they''re slow-moving tanks with predictive abilities. Wonderful." There was a quiet chuckle from across the room. Ji-Hoon, the team''s combat strategist, who had been observing the conversation, leaned forward. His soft-spoken voice broke the silence. "What''s concerning is that they are not panicking. Most orcs we''ve fought before have a tendency to charge blindly. But this group¡ªthey''re calculated. They''re sticking to their leader''s commands. "So when we try to be arrogant to frustrate them, unlike Orcs who were easily provoked from other times, they are not easily angered¡­" Jin, his eyes narrowed, added, "Their shields are thick, their defense is near impenetrable, and if we engage them in close combat, they''ll crush us with their raw power." Kira shrugged, sliding the rifle scope back into place with a loud click. "They''re tough, sure. But they can''t avoid getting shot forever. We just need to be patient and pick them off from a distance." Just as the conversation reached a tense lull, one of the long-range Pillars, So-Won, shifted uncomfortably from his spot by the window. His fingers danced over the trigger of his energy rifle, his eyes scanning the horizon through the building''s shattered windows. "Maybe we should move in too. They won''t expect us to engage them directly. We could flank them, create an opening." Lin Seok, shaking his head slowly, held up a hand to stop him. "No. Standby for now. You and the other long-range units are our secret weapons. If we send you in too early, we''ll lose our advantage." So-Won, clearly frustrated, sighed and leaned back, but he respected Lin Seok''s command. The long-range Pillars knew they had a crucial role to play, but they also understood the value of timing. Kira raised an eyebrow at Lin Seok, silently questioning the decision, but said nothing. She knew better than to argue with him. Lin Seok turned back to the map. His finger tapped the location where the orcs had retreated into the undamaged part of the city. "They think they''re safe there, using the buildings and the humans as shields. But they''ve underestimated us." Jin straightened up, a cold gleam in his eyes. "So, what''s the plan?" Lin Seok looked at his team, his confidence unshaken. "We attack again. This time, we push harder, faster. Break their defenses, wound as many as possible, and don''t give them time to regroup." A murmur of agreement passed through the room as the Pillars prepared themselves for another round of battle. Jin unsheathed his sword, the metallic shing sound cutting through the tension. Kira cocked her rifle, the faint hum of its energy cells charging up filled the air. The tension rose as each Pillar readied themselves, their determination clear. "Let''s move out," Lin Seok ordered. --- The Pillars struck with brutal efficiency. The sound of boots hitting the pavement echoed as they moved through the streets like shadows. They were a blur of motion, appearing and disappearing among the ruins as they zeroed in on the orcs hiding behind the buildings. The speed and ferocity of their assault were unmatched, but even still, the orcs remained formidable. Fwoosh! An arrow from Kira''s sniper rifle shot through the air with a piercing screech, its target a hulking orc at the back of the formation. The arrow struck the orc''s shield with a thunderous thud!, barely missing its mark but staggering the beast. Before the orc could recover, Jin was already upon it. His katana flashed in the sunlight, slicing through the air with a sharp whissss! as he struck at the orc''s leg. The orc let out a guttural roar, stumbling back, but it''s instinctive defense kicked in immediately. Its massive shield slammed down, deflecting Jin''s blade with a deafening CLANG! The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, forcing Jin to back off. But even as he did, another Pillar, Ji-Hoon, launched a barrage of energy blasts from his gauntlets, targeting the orc''s exposed side. Zap! Zap! Zap! The orc growled, its body seared by the blasts, but still, it stood, unyielding. Lin Seok watched from a distance, his eyes darting between his comrades and the orcs. Despite their slow movements, the orcs were holding their own. Each time a Pillar landed a hit, the orcs shifted, adapting, their shields absorbing the brunt of the attacks. It was like fighting against a wall that could move and react. The sheer force of their defenses was beginning to take its toll. The Pillars continued their assault, striking from all sides, but the orcs were unrelenting. Their shields clanged and banged, their grunts echoing through the city streets as they defended against every attack. And then, finally, the Pillars managed to break through. Jin''s katana flashed again, this time catching an orc off guard. His blade sliced through its arm, sending a spurt of blood into the air. The orc howled in pain, its shield dropping to the ground with a thud. Another orc, hit by Kira''s sniper shot, staggered back, its leg collapsing under the weight of its injuries. The orcs were wounded, but even so, their resolve didn''t falter. They roared in defiance, their eyes glowing with battle lust, and their shields remained raised, ready to defend against the next wave of attacks. --- As the battle raged on, Lin Seok and his team regrouped in the safety of the buildings. Sweat dripped down their faces, their breathing heavy. The attacks had been successful, but the cost had been high. "Damn," Kira muttered, leaning against the wall and wiping sweat from her brow. "Those things are tough. They''re not going down easily." Jin nodded, his sword still gleaming with orc blood. "We managed to wound them, but they''re still standing. Their shields are ridiculous." S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lin Seok, despite his composed demeanor, felt the weight of the situation. He glanced at the remaining Pillars, noticing their exhausted expressions. "How''s everyone''s mana?" Ji-Hoon grimaced. "Halved. We''ve been pushing hard, and those defenses of theirs... they''re eating through our energy." Kira shook her head in frustration. "It''s like hitting a brick wall. Every time I land a shot, they just raise those damn shields." Lin Seok didn''t respond immediately. He took a deep breath, glancing out the window at the battlefield. The orcs were still strong, even after everything they''d thrown at them. It was becoming clear that this fight wasn''t going to be as simple as they had hoped. "We need to rethink our approach," Lin Seok said finally, his voice steady but determined. "These orcs are unlike any we''ve faced before. They may be slow, but their instincts... their resilience... we can''t underestimate them." Chapter 129 - 129: New Plan Meanwhile, in the Orc side, Volk paced back and forth, his massive frame radiating an aura of frustration. The mission. It was ticking away like a war drum in his head. Twenty minutes had already slipped through his fingers, and nothing had been achieved. Every second that passed without progress gnawed at him. Volk knew that if the system gave him a time limit, something catastrophic would follow. There was no room for failure. He had forty minutes left. Suddenly, his crimson eyes scanned the battlefield, narrowing as they settled on a distant building. Behind the crumbling walls, he could see the flicker of hope in the humans'' eyes¡ªespecially the younger ones, teenage kids who still clung to the belief that the fast Pillars would save them. That hope... it gave him an idea. Without wasting another second, Volk raised his voice, deep and guttural, to address his warband. "I''ve got a plan," he declared, his tone sharp with urgency. The other orcs, who had been bellowing war cries and pounding their shields, quieted to listen. "We take some of those humans as hostages. Make them hesitate. Use them as shields. It''ll force their hand, make the soldiers think twice before they attack us with everything they''ve got!" For a moment, there was silence among the orcs, their glowing eyes flickering as they processed Volk''s words. Then, one by one, the grumbling began. An older orc, his tusks chipped and scarred from countless battles, stepped forward. "What?" His voice was a rumbling growl, filled with disdain. "Hostages? Using weaklings to win a battle? What kind of tactic is that, Warchief?" He spat the title with contempt, making the other orcs nod in agreement. Another orc, this one younger but equally as fierce, pounded his fist against his chest. "We are orcs! Battle is in our blood! We fight with honor and strength, not with tricks and cowardice! You would have us take prisoners? Hide behind the feeble?" Volk''s jaw tightened as the defiance rippled through the ranks. Several orcs started to murmur in agreement, the ground trembling beneath their massive feet. It was clear¡ªthey enjoyed the thrill of this fight too much to resort to what they saw as dishonorable tactics. They wanted to crush their enemies in a pure battle of might, not trick them into submission. Another voice boomed from the crowd. "And what of your blood, Volk?" The speaker stepped forward, his muscles bulging as he crossed his arms. "If you''re so keen on avoiding a proper fight, maybe your blood isn''t as pure as you claim. Maybe you''ve forgotten what it means to be an orc!" The words hit Volk like a punch to the gut, but his expression remained stone cold. He scanned the crowd, sensing the brewing rebellion. Some of the orcs looked hesitant, while others seemed outright insulted by his plan. They didn''t understand the stakes. They couldn''t. He couldn''t exactly tell them about the system that bound his very survival. But now, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. His warriors had their own minds, and though he could crush their skulls in a show of dominance, it wasn''t the right time for that. He needed them united, not broken. One of the orcs, a hulking brute with a gnarled axe, snorted. "Besides, those fast warriors¡ªthose so-called Pillars¡ªthey''re already running low on mana. "You can see it in their movements. They''re slowing down. If we wait, we can overpower them in a proper fight. Isn''t that better than cowering behind weaklings?" Volk gritted his teeth, feeling the anger rising in his chest. He wanted to shout at them, to beat sense into their thick skulls. But he knew it wouldn''t work. No time. He had to think smarter. These orcs were bound by their honor and battle instincts. If he couldn''t appeal to their fear of shrinking or their loyalty, perhaps he could manipulate their desires. There was no other choice. Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind, and Volk''s eyes glimmered with cold determination. His voice lowered to a menacing growl as he stepped forward, commanding the attention of the entire horde. "Listen closely," he began, his voice like the rumble of a coming storm. "The dungeon is watching us. It''s not just about winning this battle¡ªit''s about surviving in the long run. If we don''t kill these fast warriors in the next ten minutes, we''ll start to shrink. All of us." The crowd of orcs grew still. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their eyes widened, muscles tensing as they absorbed his words. The thought of shrinking, of becoming weak and powerless, sent ripples of shock through the group. Their primal fear had been touched, and Volk could see it in their faces. "You all felt it before, didn''t you?" Volk continued, his voice growing louder. "The weakening, the shrinking! The feeling of losing your strength! It''ll happen again if we don''t act now. And this time, we won''t have the Elven Witches or our wives to reverse it. This is our only chance to stay in our strongest forms!" One orc, his hands trembling slightly, stepped forward. "Are you sure, Warchief?" His voice was low, almost a whisper. Volk turned to face him, locking eyes with the warrior. His expression was deadly serious. "I''m sure. We''ve already lost time. If we don''t act now, we won''t have another chance. This is the dungeon''s will." The orcs exchanged nervous glances, their confidence shaken. The thrill of battle still burned in their eyes, but now, there was something else¡ªfear. The fear of losing their power, of shrinking back into weak, feeble forms. It gnawed at their pride, making them question their instincts. Another orc spoke up, his voice wavering. "But the fast warriors... if they''re low on mana, shouldn''t we just wait? Let them tire themselves out?" Volk clenched his fists, his patience wearing thin. "If we wait, we risk losing everything. Do you want to go back to being weak? To depend on others for your strength? Or do you want to stay strong, to stay in control?" The orcs hesitated, but the fear of shrinking was now overpowering their desire for a straightforward battle. Slowly, they began to nod, their resistance crumbling under Volk''s logic. The idea of holding onto their strength was too appealing to ignore. One by one, the orcs grunted in agreement, their massive heads bobbing. "Fine," one of them growled. "We''ll follow your plan. But only because we trust you, Warchief." Volk''s lips curled into a faint smile. He had won. "Good. Then prepare yourselves. We''ll move in now and take them down. No more waiting. No more chances." The orcs, though still grumbling under their breath, began to ready themselves for the assault. Shields were raised, weapons gripped tightly, and a newfound sense of urgency filled the air. The horde was still battle-hungry, but now, they were focused. Volk, standing tall at the front of his warriors, turned his gaze toward the city where the Pillars were regrouping. He could still see the glimmers of hope in the humans'' eyes from afar, but soon, that hope would be crushed. They wouldn''t know what hit them. "Follow me," he barked. His voice cut through the noise like a blade, sharp and commanding. The orcs fell into formation behind him, their footsteps shaking the ground as they prepared to strike. As Volk led his horde through the ruined streets, he clenched his fists tighter, feeling the weight of the mission still lingering over him. He had managed to sway his warriors this time, but deep down, he knew he was walking a fine line. One misstep, and everything could fall apart. He had to complete the mission. Failure wasn''t an option¡ªnot if he wanted to see Solluha''r again and keep the Nuclear Devastation Strike! The war drums in his mind quickened their beat, he matched the pulse of his heavy heart. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaar!!!" Chapter 130 - 130: Pillars tight spot Lin Seok stood on the rooftop, his eyes scanning the battlefield below. The chaotic streets were littered with the bodies of the fallen, and smoke billowed from buildings that had been reduced to rubble. His breathing was heavy, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the scene. Suddenly, one of the orcs moved. Something was different¡ªsomething unsettling. He squinted, focusing on their movements. The horde was splitting into three groups, each heading in a different direction. Lin Seok knew that these Orcs are intelligent. So he assumed that this wasn''t the typical mindless charge of battle-hungry orcs. No, this was calculated. Strategic. "What are they planning?" Lin Seok muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed in concern. He quickly turned to the other Pillars gathered around him. "Are the others sent here? Where are they now?" A young Pillar with bright, anxious eyes and a deep cut across his cheek shook his head. "They''re taking civilians away, trying to evacuate them before the orcs can get to them." Lin Seok''s heart dropped. "Wait. Civilians?" His mind raced as he turned his gaze back toward the nearest building where the orcs were headed. The structure was still mostly intact, standing tall in the midst of the carnage. He saw movement in the windows¡ªsmall figures huddled together. His breath caught in his throat. "No... no, no, no!" His voice rose to a shout. "Stop them! That building¡ªit''s full of kids!" Panic spread among the Pillars like wildfire. One of them, a veteran with deep-set eyes, looked horrified. "But... Orcs don''t hurt the weak! The women, the elderly, children¡ªthey never have in all the years we''ve fought them! The orcs that have come through other cracks have always spared the helpless. What kind of orcs are these?" Lin Seok didn''t have an answer, but he could feel a deep pit forming in his stomach. Even earlier, he could feel that these aren''t the orcs they were used to facing. They are more intelligent and more brilliant just what they did to the buildings of the other part of the city. Seeing them go to the children. He was thinking something. These orcs could be ruthless. Calculated. Dangerous in ways they hadn''t expected. The veteran Pillar''s voice rose in desperation. "We need to stop them now!" Lin Seok snapped into action, barking orders into his earpiece. "Get the helicopters! Gun them down before they reach the building!" Moments later, the whirring of rotor blades echoed through the air as the helicopters swooped in, their mounted guns aimed squarely at the advancing orcs. The soldiers inside were tense, their hands steady on their triggers. "Take the shot," Lin Seok ordered. BRRRRRRRRRTTTT!!! The sound of machine-gun fire filled the sky as the helicopters opened fire, the rounds raining down on the orcs. Bullets whizzed through the air, striking the ground and sending up plumes of dust and debris. But the orcs were undeterred. One massive orc, his skin dark and scarred, raised his club high above his head. With a roar that shook the very air around him, he swung the weapon with incredible force. The club smashed into one of the helicopters, sending it spiraling out of control. The machine veered off course, its tail spinning wildly before it crashed into the side of a building with a deafening bang. Flames erupted from the wreckage. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaar!!!" The orcs'' war cries filled the air as they laughed, mocking the humans'' futile efforts. Another helicopter attempted to swoop in for another attack, but a second orc hurled a massive chunk of debris at it. The projectile struck the helicopter squarely, sending it tumbling from the sky in a ball of fire. Lin Seok''s eyes widened in shock. "What... what are they doing?" He couldn''t believe it. The orcs were taking down helicopters with nothing but brute strength. These weren''t the mindless savages he had fought before. These were something else entirely¡ªmonsters in every sense of the word. On the ground, the orcs were laughing, taunting the humans as they advanced. "Weak!" one of them bellowed, his voice booming across the battlefield. "Humans are weak! Your annoying little weapons can''t stop us! It won''t even pierce our skins! Lok''tar Ogar!" Another orc, grinning wickedly, pointed at a group of soldiers huddling behind a destroyed barricade. "Come out and fight like real warriors! Or is hiding all you humans know how to do?" The Pillars exchanged uneasy glances. The orcs were using their brute strength and cunning in ways they hadn''t expected. They were fast, unpredictable, and relentless. And now, they were heading straight for the building full of children. "Stop those orcs!" Lin Seok shouted, his voice desperate. "Do whatever it takes, but stop them!" The ranked Pillars sprang into action, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, closing the distance between them and the orcs. Lin Seok drew his sword, with its blade gleaming in the dim light. He charged forward, leading the assault, his heart pounding in his ears. But the orcs were already scaling the building, their massive hands gripping the sides as they climbed with alarming speed. The Pillars reached them just as the first few orcs made it to the windows. Lin Seok slashed at one of the orcs, his blade biting into thick green flesh. The orc grunted, staggering back but not falling. Another Pillar fired a bolt of energy that hit an orc square in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground below with a sickening thud. But it wasn''t enough. More orcs were already clambering up the side of the building, their eyes set on their prize. Inside the building, the children could see the monstrous forms approaching through the cracked windows. Fear filled the air, and the sound of their panicked cries echoed through the halls. "Help! Mommy! Daddy!" The children screamed, their tiny voices trembling with terror. They huddled together, their eyes wide with fear as the orcs reached the windows, their massive hands smashing through the glass. "Stop them!" one of the ranked Pillars shouted, blasting an orc with a powerful attack that sent him flying off the building. But even as they took down a few, more took their place. The orcs were relentless. Lin Seok''s heart raced as he fought to hold the line, but he could see it in the eyes of the other Pillars. They were losing ground. The orcs were too strong, too determined. And then, with a sickening realization, Lin Seok watched as a group of tanner-skinned orcs, tougher and more brutal than the rest, broke through the windows and snatched the children from their hiding places. The orcs grabbed them with terrifying ease, lifting them into the air as if they weighed nothing. The children''s screams pierced the air, their small hands reaching out desperately for help. "No! Please! Don''t take us!" Lin Seok''s heart sank. "No!" he shouted, charging forward, his sword raised high. But it was too late. The orcs had already secured their prizes. They moved with a chilling efficiency, leaping from the windows and carrying the children down to the streets below. "Hold your fire!" one of the Pillars yelled, his voice strained with panic. "Don''t shoot! They''ve got the kids!" The soldiers froze, their fingers hovering over their triggers. They couldn''t risk hitting the children. The orcs had them, and now the humans were powerless to stop them. Back on the street, the orcs regrouped, their booming laughter filling the air. "Lok''tar Ogaaar!" they roared, holding the children aloft like trophies. Their mocking jeers echoed through the streets as they dared the humans to make a move. Lin Seok stood on the rooftop, his sword hanging limply by his side. His chest heaved with frustration and fear. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They had lost this round. The orcs had the upper hand, and there was nothing they could do. The orcs continued to laugh, their voices loud and mocking as they paraded their captives. The sight of it¡ªthe children crying, helpless in the grip of those monstrous hands¡ªmade Lin Seok''s blood boil. But there was nothing he could do. The battle was far from over, but the orcs had just proven they were more cunning and ruthless than anyone had expected. Chapter 131 - 131: When the children die The orcs laughed, their deep, guttural voices echoing through the war-torn streets as they held their ground against the relentless assault of the human Ranked Pillars. BRAHAHAHHAHAHA! GRUHAHAHAHHAHA! KYARUHUHUHUHU! Bullets whizzed through the air, and the loud, thunderous BANG! BANG! BANG! of gunfire filled the atmosphere, but the orcs barely flinched. Their thick hides and bone clubs absorbed the brunt of the attacks, and their confidence only seemed to grow with each failed human assault. Volk stood amidst his horde, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the battlefield. His heart was thumping so hard, not from the heat of battle, but from a growing time that was being wasted. He could even hear the ticking clock in his mind. Every second slipping away felt like sand through his fingers. The system''s countdown felt fast¡ªforty minutes left, and still, they were no closer to victory. His jaw clenched. They needed to end this. Fast. "We don''t have time for this," Volk muttered under his breath, gripping his axe tighter. His thoughts turned to his Grum-gar form¡ªthe towering, radioactive behemoth that could turn the tide of battle in an instant. If he could just tap into that power, they could finish this once and for all. But before he could voice his plan, a deep chuckle rose beside him. Grashk, his friend orc in the same age, now holding a massive, bone club he wielded like a shield, turned to Volk with a knowing grin. "I know what you''re thinking¡­ You think you can turn into Grum-gar form?" Grashk said, his voice thick with amusement. "Even if you try, you won''t be able to, Volk." He grunted as he raised his club, blocking another barrage of bullets from the Pillars'' guns. Volk was surprised, "How do you-" then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he growled, half-deflecting a blast with his own axe, the edge of it scraping against the incoming projectiles. Grashk''s laughter rumbled deep in his chest as he slammed his club into the ground, sending a shockwave that rattled the nearby debris. "Our wives," he said, eyes glinting with mischief. "We can only turn into Grum-gar if they are near. But now¡­ they are realms apart. We can''t transform, not while they''re so far away." Volk felt a jolt of surprise course through him. He hadn''t known this. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the information. He had been counting on his Grum-gar form as a last resort, but now¡­ "How can that be?" Volk asked, his voice tight as he parried another incoming attack with his axe. "What if we transform? What does it mean?" Grashk raised his bone club high, and with a savage grin, he brought it crashing down into the earth again, cracking the stone beneath their feet. "If we transform," he began, his voice almost reverent, "it means we don''t need our wives anymore. And if we don''t need them, it means we can do whatever we want. Plus, it''s a sign we''ll never shrink again. That''s why we protect the elven witches. That''s why we always return to them." Volk''s mind began to spin. Protecting the witches¡ªthat had always been the priority for orcs like Grashk. They believed their power was tied to them. But Volk had never needed a wife to transform. Back when he first unlocked his radioactive form, he didn''t have Solluha''r by his side. How had he managed to awaken his power then? "Why was I able to transform without my wife? Why could I use the Grum-gar form back then?" Volk demanded, his voice laced with confusion. Grashk glanced at him, his grin fading slightly. "You were in a territory," he said simply. "A territory filled with battle, blood, and the energy of war. Especially magic. That''s why you could. But if you had been in the Catacombs, facing the Warlock without a wife, you wouldn''t have been able to transform. That''s the way it works." Volk felt a knot of frustration form in his chest. So that was the secret? It had to do with the territory? It didn''t matter now. He didn''t have time to dwell on it. Whether or not Grashk was right, Volk was still confident in his system. He could still transform into his radioactive form. But the question remained¡ªhow would the other orcs react? If he used his radioactive form, which was similar to Grum-gar, would they start to believe they didn''t need the witches anymore? Would it change their entire belief system? And if that happened, how could he control them? His thoughts began to run as he deflected another volley of attacks from the Ranked Pillars. Grashk was right about one thing¡ªif the orcs thought they no longer needed their wives, it could lead to chaos. They might refuse to return to their old ways, and that would cause a rift in their ranks. Especially, right now. Volk couldn''t afford that right now. But there was something else gnawing at him¡ªwhy had he been able to transform without a wife, while the others couldn''t? How had he broken the rules that bound his kind? He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts. It didn''t matter. What mattered now was completing the mission. The children they had captured were useful as hostages, but Volk knew it would take time to wear down the Pillars and kill them all. And time was something he didn''t have. He needed to lure the Ranked Pillars into a trap. A quick, decisive strike. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His mind sharpened as he watched the battlefield unfold before him. The humans were relentless, but Volk could sense their exhaustion. Their mana reserves were running low. The speed and ferocity of their attacks were beginning to falter. That''s when Volk knew it was time to act. A cold smile curled across his lips as he turned to his horde. "Get ready," he commanded, his voice low but filled with authority. "We''ll lure them in." The orcs grinned, their bloodlust rising. Even Grashk, who had been musing about their inability to transform, nodded in agreement. They were eager for battle, and Volk could feel their excitement building. Volk raised his axe, the heavy blade gleaming in the pale light of the dying sun. His muscles tensed as he prepared for the next wave of attacks. The human Pillars were nearly spent. He could see it in their movements¡ªtheir hesitation, their slower reactions. As the next barrage of human firepower hit their shields, Volk stepped forward, blocking with his axe. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off his weapon, and for a moment, the battlefield seemed to still. The humans were tiring, and the orcs were ready. Volk turned toward the building where the children were held. He glanced at them, huddled together, eyes wide with terror. They were weak, defenseless. A perfect bait. With a deliberate motion, Volk raised his axe high into the air. The human Pillars watched in horror, their eyes widening as they realized what was about to happen. Without a second thought, Volk brought the axe down, aiming directly at the children. The battlefield fell silent, save for the soft whimpering of the terrified children. The Ranked Pillars, though weakened, sprang into action, their voices rising in panic. "NO! STOP HIM!" Volk''s grin widened as he felt the tide of the battle finally turning in his favor. The trap was set. Chapter 132 - 132: First Blood Lin Seok stood at the edge of the battle, watching as the other Pillars geared up to charge toward the orcs. His heart felt like a hammer pounding his chest in a thrumming hard, but not from fear¡ªno, it was anger. He could see the trap unfolding before his very eyes. The orcs were laughing, their guttural voices echoing through the broken streets, and they were looking directly at the Pillars with a twisted kind of amusement. They weren''t moving to harm the children. Not yet. However, he''s sure that it''s a trap! "Hold your ground!" Lin Seok''s voice rang out sharply, cutting through the noise of the battlefield. He turned toward the ranked Pillars, his eyes locking onto the closest one, a tall, broad-shouldered man named Jihoon, known for his reckless bravery. "Jihoon! Listen to me. It''s a trap. They''re using the children as bait. If you rush in now, they''ll¡ª" But Jihoon''s eyes flashed with stubborn defiance. "We can''t just stand here, Seok! They have kids in there!" His voice was full of conviction, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword tightly. "You think we can just watch and wait while those monsters threaten them? What kind of heroes would we be? So what if it''s bait? We are faster, as long as we keep attacking, we will find a gap and take advantage of it!" Lin Seok clenched his fists, barely holding back the urge to scream. "I''m not saying we leave the children! But if you rush in like this, without a plan, they''ll pick you off one by one. The orcs know what they''re doing. Look at them! They''re waiting for you to tire yourselves out. They''re not stupid! "Plus, that''s what we are doing! We are watching them to find a gap to their defense!" Next to Jihoon, another Pillar, Sunwoo, a fire mage with a temper as hot as his spells, spat on the ground. "Lin Seok, you''re not the boss here. You don''t get to make all the calls. We''re Pillars too. We can make our own decisions. Plus, we won''t see a gap if we don''t try and find one!" Lin Seok''s eyes burned with frustration as he scanned the faces of the other Pillars. He could see the conflict in their eyes, the tension between wanting to save the children and the nagging fear that he might be right. But Sunwoo and Jihoon weren''t listening. They were already inching forward, with their eyes set on the building where the children were huddled, terrified and helpless. "Goddamn it, Jihoon, Sunwoo, this isn''t about being the boss! You two are so easy to fool!" Lin Seok''s voice cracked with desperation. "This is about survival. Look at them! Look at the orcs! They''re not charging¡ªthey''re laughing. They''re baiting us!" Jihoon shot Lin Seok a hard look over his shoulder. "We don''t have time for this, Seok. I won''t let innocent kids die just because we were too scared to act." He glanced at Sunwoo, who nodded back at him, and they both started forward. Lin Seok stepped in front of them, blocking their path. "No, Jihoon, stop! Think for a second. If you go in there now, without backup, you''ll be playing right into their hands!" "Get out of my way," Jihoon growled, shoving Lin Seok aside. "You want to stay here and strategize while those kids die? Fine. But I won''t stand here and do nothing." Lin Seok stumbled but caught himself, fury boiling in his veins. "Jihoon, you idiot! They''re not going to kill the kids! They''re using them to draw you in!" Sunwoo''s fiery eyes glared at Lin Seok, his patience gone. "You think they care about strategy more than blood? They''re orcs! They''ll kill those kids in a heartbeat if we don''t stop them." "And you think rushing in there will save them?!" Lin Seok barked back. "Look at them, Sunwoo! They''re waiting for you to get close! You''re just feeding them your energy. That''s what they want!" Jihoon clenched his teeth, turning back toward the building. "I don''t care, Seok. I''m not standing here while those monsters hold kids hostage. You can stay here and bark orders all you want, but I''m going in." Lin Seok''s heart dropped as he saw Jihoon, Sunwoo, and several other Pillars break formation, running toward the building. He wanted to scream, to grab them and pull them back. But it was too late. His stomach twisted as he watched them sprint toward the laughing orcs, their weapons drawn, determination in their eyes. But the orcs¡­ they weren''t moving. They were standing there, smiling, watching the Pillars wear themselves down. "Stop, you fools!" Lin Seok shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation. "They''re tiring you out! They''re not going to attack the children! They''re waiting for the right moment!" He could see it now, clearer than ever. The orcs were playing a long game. They weren''t attacking. They were letting the Pillars exhaust themselves. And once the Pillars were spent, once their mana was drained and their strength waned, then the orcs would strike. "Jihoon!" Lin Seok called out, his voice raw. "Fall back! They''re playing with you! Get back here before it''s too late!" But his words fell on deaf ears. Jihoon and the others were too focused on the children. Too caught up in their righteous need to save them. Lin Seok cursed under his breath, watching in horror as the orcs'' grins widened. The air was thick with tension as the Pillars drew closer. And then, suddenly, one of the orcs¡ªa light-skinned, tanner one, bigger than the others¡ªraised his massive axe, aiming it directly at the children. "No¡­ NO!" Lin Seok screamed, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see it now¡ªthe trap was closing in. The moment the orc raised his axe, Jihoon, Sunwoo, and the other Pillars surged forward in a desperate attempt to stop him. They were too focused on saving the children, too blinded by their need to be heroes. They didn''t see the rest of the orcs move. In a blur of motion, the orcs lunged. Their massive weapons, bone clubs, and axes swung through the air with deadly precision. And before Jihoon, Sunwoo, or any of the other Pillars could react, they were caught in the onslaught. The sound of crushing bone and tearing flesh filled the air. The Pillars didn''t even have time to scream. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lin Seok stood frozen in horror as he watched his comrades¡ªhis friends¡ªbecome nothing more than meat paste beneath the orcs'' brutal assault. Blood splattered across the broken pavement, pooling beneath the feet of the laughing orcs. "NO!" Lin Seok''s voice became like a broken wail, with his body trembling with rage and disbelief. He couldn''t move. He couldn''t tear his eyes away from the carnage. His mind screamed at him to do something, to fight, but he was paralyzed by the sheer horror of what he had just witnessed. The orcs stood over the mangled bodies of the ten Pillars, laughing and grinning like beasts who had just feasted on fresh prey. Lin Seok''s heart raced, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His mind reeled, causing him not to think anything at this moment. They had walked right into the trap, just as he had feared. And now¡­ it was too late. Chapter 133 - 133: Let me handle it Lin Seok stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, the image of the first group of Ranked Pillars¡ªnow nothing more than a mangled mess of blood and bone¡ªstill fresh in his mind. His mind couldn''t help but go spiral, consumed by the gravity of what had just happened. He had lost comrades, people he fought beside for years, in mere seconds. And now, with only fourteen left, the burden weighed heavily on him. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The battlefield was eerily still for a moment, the orcs standing in the distance, as though savoring their recent victory. Their laughter echoed through the streets, mocking the Pillars and sending chills down Lin Seok''s spine. They hadn''t just defeated the Pillars; they had annihilated them with terrifying efficiency. And then, he saw it¡ªthe orc, a hulking figure towering over the battlefield, with a child clutched in his enormous hand. The child was plump, his round face streaked with tears and snot. He was trembling in fear, his small voice barely audible as he whimpered for his mother. Lin Seok''s breath caught in his throat. "No¡­" he whispered under his breath. "They wouldn''t¡­ they wouldn''t hurt the children." The other Pillars stirred, their attention drawn to the orc as well. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with dread. One of the Pillars, a woman named Hyejin, who had been silent until now, broke the quiet. "Seok, you still think they won''t hurt the kids?" Her voice was sharp, filled with disbelief and accusation. "Look at them! They''re monsters!" Lin Seok shook his head, his hands trembling. "Orcs¡­ orcs have a code. They don''t kill children. It''s¡ª" He struggled to find the words, to hold onto the shred of hope he still had. "It''s not their way." Hyejin scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "And you''re willing to gamble the lives of innocent children on that?" "They''re using them as bait!" Lin Seok shouted, frustration bubbling up inside him. "If we rush in, we''ll end up like Jihoon and the others! Dead! They''re waiting for us to make a mistake!" Another Pillar, Minjae, slammed his fist into the wall beside him, the brick crumbling under the force of the impact. "What if you''re wrong, Seok?! What if they kill that kid right now?! Are you willing to stand here and do nothing?" Lin Seok clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He looked at the orc holding the child, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him, waiting for his decision, but doubt gnawed at his insides. What if he was wrong? What if they did kill the child? But if they rushed in¡­ "We can''t just charge in blindly!" Lin Seok barked, his voice hoarse. "That''s exactly what they want! We have to be smarter than that." Hyejin''s face twisted with anger. "Smarter? Smarter? Jihoon''s dead because of your ''smart'' tactics, Seok! How many more have to die before you realize that this isn''t a game?" Minjae stepped forward, his face red with fury. "You think you''re the only one who knows what''s going on? You think we''re idiots? We can see the trap, too! But we can''t just stand here and do nothing! What kind of Pillars are we if we let children die?!" Lin Seok opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn''t argue with that. He couldn''t ignore the fact that children''s lives were at stake, and doing nothing went against everything he believed in. But rushing in blindly¡­ "We need a plan," Lin Seok muttered, his voice cracking. "If we charge now, we''ll all¡ª" His words were cut short by a horrifying sound. Whoosh. The orc holding the child raised its arm, and before anyone could react, hurled the fat child into the air. The boy''s scream pierced the battlefield, his cry of "Mommy!" echoing as he flew helplessly through the air. His small, round body twisted in the sky, and in that split second, everything seemed to slow down. Lin Seok''s heart stopped. Squash. The child''s body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and in an instant, his small frame exploded into a cloud of blood and mist, painting the ground red. For a moment, there was only silence. The world stood still. Then chaos erupted. Hyejin screamed, her face contorted in horror. "No! No! Oh God, no!" She turned on Lin Seok, her voice dripping with venom. "You let this happen! You let that child die!" Minjae''s face twisted with rage as he pointed a shaking finger at Lin Seok. "This is your fault! You could have stopped them, but you didn''t! You let that kid die!" The remaining Pillars surrounded him, their faces full of anger, fear, and grief. "It''s on you, Seok!" someone shouted from behind him. "You let those monsters kill that kid!" Lin Seok stumbled backward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His vision blurred, and for a moment, all he could see was the blood. The blood on the ground. The blood on his hands. "I¡ª" His voice trembled. "I didn''t¡­" But they weren''t listening. They were already moving. "Go!" Hyejin shouted, her voice full of fury. "We can''t let them kill any more kids!" The fourteen remaining Pillars charged, their weapons raised, and Lin Seok could only watch in horror as they sprinted toward the orcs, rage and desperation driving them forward. Bang! Bang! Bang! Explosions rocked the battlefield as the Pillars unleashed their magic, fireballs, and lightning crackling through the air. The orcs, however, were prepared. They raised their massive weapons and use them as shields, deflecting the attacks with ease. Even as the ground shook from the force of the Pillars'' assault, the orcs stood firm, laughing. Hyejin hurled a bolt of fire at the nearest orc, but it bounced off his thick armor, barely singeing his skin. "Damn it!" she screamed, frustration and panic evident in her voice. "Why aren''t they going down?!" The orcs retaliated. With a roar, one of the orcs swung his club, smashing it into the ground. "Lok''tar Ogaaaaaaar!!" The shockwave knocked two of the Pillars off their feet, sending them crashing into the rubble. Hyejin barely managed to stay on her feet, but the others were struggling. Lin Seok could only watch in horror as the battle raged on. The Pillars were outmatched, their attacks doing little to slow the orcs down. And the orcs knew it. They were toying with them, playing with their food before delivering the killing blow. "Stop! You''re too tired!" Lin Seok shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the chaos. It didn''t take long for the orcs to overpower them. One by one, the remaining Pillars fell, their bodies battered and broken. Only six were left standing, their energy nearly spent, and their attacks growing weaker with each passing second. Lin Seok''s heart sank as he looked at his phone. The higher-ranked Pillars were still twenty minutes away. "We need to hold out," he muttered under his breath. "We need to delay them¡ª" "We''re helpless!" Hyejin cried, her voice filled with despair. "They''re going to kill all the kids, and we can''t stop them!" Lin Seok''s chest tightened, and he felt the weight of their impending failure pressing down on him. "That leader¡­ it''s because of him!" He said as he looked at the Volk, leading the Orcs. He didn''t know what to do. His mind was a blur of panic and confusion, and nothing made sense anymore. Suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos. "You just need to take out the leader, right?" Lin Seok whipped around, his eyes widening. Standing behind him was a teenager, his face calm and composed amidst the carnage. "What¡­?" Lin Seok stammered, his heart racing. "Who are you?" The teenager''s eyes gleamed with confidence as he stepped forward, his gaze locked on Volk, the orc leader. "Let me handle it." Lin Seok stared at him, disbelief and hope warring in his mind. Could this kid really make a difference? Could he stop the orcs? He had no other choice. "Go," Lin Seok whispered, his voice barely audible. He had no hope for the kid but, since he looked confident, why not let him try. After all, a lot of heroic and unexplainable things lately, and this kid was always a part of it even though he''s new. And with that, the teenager charged toward the orc leader. Chapter 134 - 134: Unknown Teenager Volk stood tall, the towering leader of the Orc horde, his bulging muscles flexing beneath his rough skin, sweat and dirt smeared across his face. His breath came out in heavy, angry puffs as his eyes scanned the battlefield. The six unknown human fighters had been giving his Orcs a surprisingly hard time. For warriors as big and brutal as the Orcs, it was almost humiliating. Still, despite the chaos, Volk knew he was close to completing his mission. He needed twenty-five kills, and these six wouldn''t be enough. There was one more. He frowned deeply as he surveyed the scene, eyes narrowing in frustration. The clash of steel against Orc shields filled the air, mingled with the grunts and roars of battle. The six humans were fast¡ªalmost unnaturally so¡ªdarting in and out of combat like blurs. Orc after Orc swung at them with massive weapons, but the humans dodged with ease, countering with sharp strikes that managed to wound some of Volk''s best warriors. Volk''s knuckles tightened around the hilt of his massive axe. With every swing, an echo of WHOOSH cut through the air, but even his own attacks seemed too slow for these wretched humans. He gritted his teeth, eyes darting between the fleeing humans and the battlefield. Each time they struck, the humans would flash in and out of view like ghosts, slipping through the tight formation of Orcs. In the midst of the battle, one of Volk''s Orcs, a particularly hefty warrior with a jagged club, took a wild swing at a human zipping past him. THWACK! The club smashed into the concrete wall instead, sending cracks webbing out from the impact. "Too slow, too slow!" The human laughed as he sped by. The Orc growled in frustration, lifting the club again and bellowing, "You''re fast, but you''re not tough! I''ve seen blobs tougher than you!" He swung again, but the human was gone, vanished in a blur of speed before the club could connect. Volk watched this happen again and again, the humans slipping between his warriors like water. He could feel the frustration building in his chest, his jaw clenching with every failed strike. "They''re mocking us," Grashk, one of the Orcs beside Volk, muttered, his eyes filled with rage. "They think they can outlast us." "It''s just their strategy but they''re getting slow!" another Orc jeered, even as he parried a flurry of strikes from a human fighter. "They''re fast, but they don''t have the strength and endurance to finish us!" Volk raised his axe high, the muscles in his arms straining with the effort. His eyes gleamed with fury. He needed more kills. He needed twenty-five, but these slippery humans had only cost him time, and he had only managed to strike down eighteen of them so far. Volk snarled under his breath, "Should I just kill all the children? That''ll draw them out." He glanced back towards the hostages, the helpless children who were cowering in the corner of a crumbling building. They were trembling, fear etched into their faces as they huddled together. Volk''s mind raced. If the system wasn''t satisfied with these humans, he might have to resort to more drastic measures. Suddenly, one of the Orcs, bleeding from a dozen cuts, roared, "Where did they go?!" Volk''s sharp eyes scanned the battlefield, but the six humans were nowhere to be seen. He gritted his teeth, his fury bubbling over. "Cowards! Disappearing into thin air like the weaklings they are!" he growled. "I need those kills!" Once the three minutes were left, Volk would transform into his Radioactive form and destroy this city to make sure. The Orcs around him grumbled in confusion, unsure where their opponents had vanished to. There was an uneasy silence as the horde scanned their surroundings, waiting for the next attack. Volk, breathing heavily, ran his fingers through his greasy hair and then... he smiled. A wicked, predatory grin spread across his face as an idea struck him. "Since they won''t come to me willingly, I''ll force them out!" With a swift turn, Volk marched toward the hostages. The trembling children watched in horror as the massive Orc approached them, his footsteps heavy on the broken pavement. He towered over them, his large hand reaching down to grab a plump, terrified child. The kid''s eyes were wide, tears streaming down his cheeks as Volk hoisted him into the air. The other Orcs began to cheer as Volk dangled the child before the battlefield. "Come out, come out, little humans, or I''ll devour him right here!" The boy''s screams filled the air. "M-Mommy! Daddy! Help me!" he sobbed, wriggling in Volk''s iron grip. Volk brought the child closer to his mouth, his jagged teeth glinting as he opened his jaw wide, ready to bite down. But just as he was about to sink his teeth into the boy, something shifted. There was a sudden, overwhelming WHOOSH in the air, like a thunderclap had just erupted above them. Volk froze, his senses on high alert. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the atmosphere changed. The air grew still for a moment before a powerful gust of wind rushed through the street, sending dust and debris flying in all directions. "What the¡ª?" Volk muttered, his grip on the child loosening slightly. A split second later, there was a THOOM as a figure descended from above, landing with a force that cracked the pavement. A lone teenager, his hair wild and eyes burning with an intense energy, stepped forward from the swirling dust cloud. He walked slowly towards Volk, his expression calm but his presence commanding, as though he had walked straight out of a storm. Volk''s eyes narrowed at the newcomer, his grip tightening once again on the child. The Orcs around him grunted in confusion, glancing between each other and the lone teenager. "Who the hell is this?" Grashk muttered, taking a defensive stance. The teenager said nothing as he approached, his gaze locked on Volk. There was a sharpness in his eyes, a quiet fury that simmered beneath his calm exterior. He moved with confidence, with his steps sounding deliberate and unhurried. Volk''s lips curled into a sneer as he stared down at the boy. "Another human? You think you can take the Horde on alone, boy?" The teenager continued walking, unfazed by Volk''s taunt. His hands remained at his sides, relaxed but ready. Without warning, Volk hurled the child towards the teenager with a vicious roar. "Catch him, if you can!" S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But the boy didn''t flinch. As the child flew through the air, the teenager blurred into action, moving faster than the eye could follow. SWOOSH¡ªin a blink, he was beneath the child, catching him gently in his arms before setting him down behind him. Volk''s sneer faltered for a brief moment as he watched the smooth, almost effortless movements of the boy. His confidence wavered, but only for a moment. "Impressive," Volk growled, his voice low and dangerous. "But you''re still just one boy." The Orcs, sensing a shift in the tension, gripped their weapons tighter. They stood ready, waiting for their Warchief''s command to attack. The teenager finally spoke, his voice steady and cold. "I''m not here to fight your horde. I''m here for you." Volk''s grin returned, wider and more savage than before. He slammed the butt of his axe into the ground, sending tremors through the earth. "For me?" Chapter 135 - 135: Draconic Graveyard Volk stared at the edgy teenager standing confidently before him, his head tilted slightly in curiosity. There was something absurd about the boy¡ªhis bravado, the way he carried himself as if he were already a legend. Volk chuckled to himself. Was this brat really the hero of this Ranker World? The main character? It was the dramatic entrance, of course. The gusts of wind, the perfect timing, the smug grin plastered across his face¡ªit was all so obvious. Volk found it almost amusing. The thought of this overconfident child being the "chosen one" of this realm made him want to laugh. With a casual tilt of his head, Volk asked, "Are you part of the Ranked Pillars?" The teenager gave a small, cocky nod, his face smug with self-assurance. "Yeah," he said, dragging out the word as though it were a burden to admit. "Just joined. Lowest of the low, though. You know, fresh meat. Only been a Pillar for a few days." Volk suppressed a smirk. Of course he''s new. He always knew the "main characters" were reckless, cocky, and loved to make grand entrances just like this. But Volk wasn''t worried. This boy had no idea who he was dealing with. Before Volk could retort, Lin Seok appeared behind the teenager, his face a mask of disbelief. "What do you mean by all of this?" Lin Seok demanded, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and confusion. "You just¡ªwalked in here? Do you have any idea what''s going on?" The teenager turned to him, still holding the kid he had just saved. He waved a hand dismissively, barely acknowledging Lin Seok''s concern. "Lin Seok-nim," the boy said, his voice annoyingly calm and self-assured. "Hold this kid for me, will you? I''ve got some business to handle." Lin Seok blinked, taken aback by the casual way the boy addressed him. "What? You can''t be serious¡ªhow are you planning to deal with their leader?" S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Without breaking a sweat, the teenager flashed a smile that could only be described as insufferable. "Don''t worry," he said, cracking his knuckles dramatically. "I''ve got it covered. Watch and learn. I''ll seperate their leader first!" Volk raised an eyebrow. The audacity of this human! The sheer nerve! He''d never encountered a human this arrogant. The Orcs behind Volk exchanged confused glances, uncertain whether to be impressed or insulted. Lin Seok, still holding the trembling child, stared at the teenager in disbelief. "Separate the leader? How are you going to pull that off?" The teenager grinned wider, stepping forward and slamming his foot into the ground with a theatrical flourish. "Like this!" he declared loudly, his voice echoing across the battlefield. Volk''s eyes narrowed as the atmosphere around them began to change. The once chaotic battlefield, littered with debris and the sounds of clashing weapons from the still attacking Ranked Pillars against his Orc horde, suddenly fell eerily silent. The ground beneath Volk''s feet shifted. The city full of buildings and highway streets morphed slowly, almost painstakingly, into something darker, more twisted. The very air seemed to thicken with an oppressive weight. "Draconic Graveyard," the teenager muttered under his breath, his voice filled with a sickening satisfaction. The surroundings transformed before Volk''s eyes. The concrete crumbled away, replaced by barren, cracked earth. The sky turned a murky gray, swirling with black clouds that seemed to move unnaturally fast. Bones¡ªcountless, broken bones¡ªlittered the landscape, poking up from the ground like grotesque monuments to death. Massive dragon skulls lay scattered across the barren land, their empty eye sockets staring out into the endless wasteland. In the distance, an ominous, decaying moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale, sickly glow over everything. The stench of rot and decay filled Volk''s nostrils, sharp and overwhelming. It was a bleak, desolate place. A world of death. Volk''s grip on his axe tightened as he surveyed the transformation. He couldn''t deny it¡ªit was impressive. He hadn''t expected a human to wield such power, much less someone as young and cocky as this brat. But still, the grin never left his face. Did this kid really think trapping him in some over-the-top, death-riddled dimension would make a difference? Volk was excited, he would transform into Radioactive form and finish this brat off and then complete the mission! The teenager, clearly pleased with himself, turned to Volk with that same irritating smirk. "Apologies," he said, his tone dripping with false humility. "My power''s still a bit... limited. I can''t bring your whole horde in here, just you. I''ll deal with the others later." Volk laughed, the sound deep and rumbling. He shook his head in amusement. "So, you think locking me away in this gloomy little domain of yours is going to change anything?" He took a step forward, his boots crunching over the brittle bones beneath him. "Do you really believe that outside, without me, your fellow humans are any safer? Aren''t you a little arrogant too for taking me on alone?" The teenager waved him off with a casual flick of his wrist. "Oh, don''t worry about them. They''ve got... company." He glanced back toward the entrance of the dimension, his grin growing wider. Back in the real world, the battlefield was eerily quiet. The moment Volk disappeared into the Draconic Graveyard, the Orc horde froze, momentarily confused by the sudden absence of their Warchief. But before they could react, the ground began to rumble beneath their feet. Glowing, violet circles appeared on the ground around the Orcs, slowly expanding as arcane symbols spread outward. Suddenly, bony hands thrust up from the earth. Skeleton knights, clad in cracked, rusted armor, emerged from the glowing circles, their hollow eyes glowing with an eerie light. They held jagged swords, their bony limbs rattling as they moved forward. Grashk, one of the larger Orcs, snorted in disgust. "What is this?!" he roared, raising his club to smash one of the skeletons. "More of your pathetic tricks, humans?!" He swung his weapon down with a mighty CRASH, but the skeleton barely flinched. The undead knight stepped forward, unfazed, and slashed at Grashk''s arm with its jagged blade. The Orc howled in pain as the rusted weapon sliced through his flesh despite being strong. The other Orcs soon found themselves surrounded by the skeletal warriors. They roared in defiance, swinging their clubs and axes with all their might, but the undead knights were relentless. They moved as if they felt no pain, no fear¡ªjust a mindless, unstoppable force. Back in the Draconic Graveyard, Volk could sense the chaos unfolding in the real world. His horde was fighting something, but he couldn''t see what it was. He grinned, still unshaken. "Even without me," he growled, "my warriors will crush whatever pathetic plan had comjured. Your tricks won''t last." The teenager, still wearing that same smug grin, crossed his arms over his chest. "We''ll see about that, won''t we?" Volk raised his axe, his eyes blazing with fury. The bones beneath his feet crunched and snapped as he moved forward, his massive frame towering over the teenager. "I''ll enjoy stomping on your corpse," Volk snarled, his voice filled with malice. The teenager didn''t flinch. If anything, his grin widened. "Try me." A battle was about to begin, between main character and another main character? Chapter 136 - 136: Dead arise Volk sneered, his massive frame towering over the eerie, desolate landscape of the Draconic Graveyard. The bones crunched under his heavy boots as he sized up the edgy teenager who stood across from him. The kid was all cockiness, his smirk and casual stance clearly meant to provoke. Without a word, Volk kicked up a massive bone from the ground, launching it through the air toward the brat. He grinned wickedly as the bone flew, using its trajectory to hide his own movement as he charged forward behind it, axe in hand, ready to strike. The bone whizzed through the air. Swoosh! The teenager barely moved, his grin widening as he sidestepped the attack with ease. Volk''s eyes widened, but before he could adjust his approach, the teenager mumbled something under his breath. "Dead Exchange." Volk furrowed his brow. What the hell does that mean? But he had no time to think. He swung his massive axe down with a resounding BANG! The axe connected, but instead of meeting flesh, it cleaved through a skeleton warrior that appeared in the brat''s place. The brittle bones shattered under the force of Volk''s blow, the skeleton crumbling into dust. Volk''s eyes flickered in confusion for a brief moment, before a voice rang out behind him. "You really thought I wouldn''t see that coming, huh?" the teenager''s voice taunted, dripping with smug satisfaction. Volk growled and spun around, his eyes scanning the barren landscape. Shadows crept along the ground, moving slowly and ominously toward him. The skeletal shapes emerged from the cracked earth, their movements deliberate, each bony limb rattling with an eerie sound. The teenager''s voice echoed from different directions, as if toying with him. "I get it, you Orcs are all the same. You tried to throw the kid earlier to make me drop my guard, make me think you''re all brute force and no brains. But no... I know what you''re doing." The skeleton warriors continued to rise, their hollow eyes glowing with an unnatural light as they surrounded Volk. "You''re trying to bait me again, using the same tricks." Volk said nothing, just casually spun his axe in his hands, rolling it between his palms with a grim smile. He wasn''t interested in banter; he just wanted to cut this annoying brat down. The sound of the teenager''s voice irritated him, and he clenched his jaw as he shifted his stance, ready for the next attack. The boy was hiding among the skeletons, but Volk wasn''t fooled. He had no interest in playing this game. As soon as the brat spoke again, Volk bolted in the direction of the voice, his speed astonishing for someone of his size. He crashed through the skeletal warriors, his axe swinging with deadly precision. SLAM! His axe connected with another skeleton, shattering it into pieces. But as soon as he did, another voice rang out from a different direction. "Oops, wrong again, Orc! You''re too slow." Volk''s frustration boiled over, but he didn''t let it show. He adjusted his grip on the axe, his movements more controlled now. The next time the boy spoke, Volk barely waited a second before he charged again, his powerful legs propelling him forward with lightning speed. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. This time, he aimed straight for the source of the voice. KABAM! The axe struck true, and this time, it was a skeleton again. "Haha!" The teenager said among the injured skeleton soldiers and then mumbled, "You won''t catch me!" Yet, because of his voice, Volk would know where he is and instantly reappear behind him and then, immediately, blood splattered and sprayed across the cracked earth. Kaschack! The teenager coughed up blood, his once-smug grin faltering as he gasped for breath. Volk grinned, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he pulled the axe out and prepared to strike again. But before the axe could hit, the teenager''s body crumbled, turning into yet another skeleton. Volk cursed under his breath, with his eyes narrowing sharply. This was getting tiresome. "You injured me, I''ll give you that," the teenager''s voice echoed again, now from a distance. "But don''t worry, I can heal. It''s just a scratch." Volk snarled, wiping the blood from his axe as he surveyed the battlefield. He was done with this game. He could feel the teenager''s presence, and it was starting to irritate him that the boy was toying with him like this. He began moving methodically, crushing skeleton after skeleton, each swing of his axe followed by the cracking of bones. Suddenly, one of the skeletal soldiers knelt down before Volk, its hollow eyes glowing dimly as if it had something to say. Although Volk''s patience was wearing thin. He rested his axe on his shoulder, glaring down at the skeleton, and only now he would speak. "What is it now, kid? What stupid trick do you have up your sleeve this time?" Volk paced back and forth before the kneeling skeleton soldiers, his boots crunching over the bones scattered across the barren landscape. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he toyed with his massive axe, and its blade gleaming ominously. He stopped, resting the axe on his shoulder as he addressed the soldiers. "This here," Volk said, holding up the weapon for them to see, "is the Axe of Dissection." His voice was low and menacing, filled with pride. "It''s no ordinary weapon. Any wound it creates, no matter how small, turns into a river of blood. Every cut, every strike, drains the life out of its victim faster than they can heal. It''s not just a tool of war¡ªit''s a weapon of fear." He eyed the kneeling skeleton soldier, the one who had been coughing up blood onto the cracked earth. The pool of crimson beneath the figure was steadily growing, soaking into the dry ground. "I could walk away right now," Volk continued, "and you''d still die. Slowly, painfully. You''re already bleeding out, after all." He paused, watching as the kneeling soldier struggled to catch its breath, blood still dripping from its bony frame. Volk relished in the sight for a moment, enjoying the power he wielded over this strange opponent. The skeleton soldier''s struggles were pathetic in comparison to the might of the Axe of Dissection. "But," Volk said, his voice shifting into something colder, more impatient, "I don''t have time for that." Without warning, he moved. Kabam! Volk swung his axe with terrifying speed, the air crackling as the weapon cut through it. In an instant, he teleported behind the kneeling skeleton soldier, aiming to cleave the pitiful figure in half. He grinned as the axe came down, expecting to see it strike the brittle bones, splintering them apart. But then, something happened. "Death Arise!" the teenager''s voice in the kneeling skeleton soldier whispered, its voice barely audible, but filled with an unearthly power. Volk''s axe, mid-swing, came to a sudden halt, as if hitting an invisible wall. He blinked in surprise, his grip tightening on the hilt. What was this? How could a simple skeleton soldier stop his attack? Before Volk could react, a dark shadow began to form around the kneeling figure. The bones cracked and shifted, melding together with the surrounding air until something entirely different emerged¡ªa warrior clad in blackened armor, its form fully encased from head to toe. Unlike the skeletons, whose armor was crude and incomplete, this new figure radiated an aura of supremacy. The armored warrior stood tall, its helmeted head turning to meet Volk''s gaze. The eerie glow of its eyes, hidden behind the visor, sent a chill down Volk''s spine. This was no ordinary soldier. With a swift, precise motion, the armored warrior raised its sword and parried Volk''s axe, deflecting the deadly blow as if it were nothing. The force of the parry sent Volk''s weapon off course, and the Axe of Dissection slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash, embedding itself in the cracked earth. Volk staggered back, eyes wide with shock. ''Plot armor?'' Chapter 137 - 137: Song Wooji Song Woo-Ji staggered, his breaths shallow and labored. His lungs burned, each gasp scraping through his throat like sandpaper. Blood dripped steadily from the gaping wounds along his back, pooling around his boots, staining the rocky floor of his Draconic Graveyard domain. He could feel the warm, sticky flow intensifying with every second. The pain was relentless, wrapping around him like iron chains. His legs trembled, but he forced himself to stand, the weight of exhaustion pressing down like a heavy cloak. He hadn''t expected this¡ªbeing pushed to the brink so quickly, so mercilessly. Before him, the Orc horde leader, was a whirlwind of violence. Each swing of the massive war axe in his hand was followed by a sickening crunch. Thwack! The sound of metal slicing through bone echoed through the battlefield as one of Song Woo-Ji''s undead pawns was cleaved in half. A mere second later, another was kicked aside, its rotting body crashing into the jagged rocks with a wet thud. They were supposed to be strong, these undead warriors. Powerful. Song Woo-Ji''s fingers clenched into fists, blood mixing with dirt and sweat. He had fought hard to capture them, to turn them into his subordinates. He could still remember the dungeons where he had defeated them¡ªeach battle a grueling struggle that had pushed him to his limits. The first was the Mountain Giant, Gorr. Song Woo-Ji had barely survived the encounter. Gorr''s lair had been deep within the Fire Fang Mountains, its craggy peaks spewing smoke and ash. Gorr had been a colossus of stone and muscle, his fists large enough to crush boulders. Every blow from the giant had felt like a mountain collapsing on Song Woo-Ji. He had dodged, ducked, rolled¡ªbarely able to land a single hit. His sword had shattered against Gorr''s skin, and for a moment, it had seemed like defeat was inevitable. But then, Song Woo-Ji had found a way¡ªstriking a weak spot hidden beneath the giant''s left arm. It had taken everything he had to bring the behemoth down, and even more to bind him to his will. Then there was Daelum, the Death Knight. A fearsome warrior, clad in spectral armor, his sword a blackened shard of pure malice. Song Woo-Ji had stumbled upon him in the ancient ruins of Zorn. The air there had been thick with decay, the stones underfoot whispering of forgotten wars and ancient curses. Daelum had been relentless, his blade carving through the darkness, seeking to end Song Woo-Ji''s life with every swing. The battle had been a dance of death, each of them trading blow for blow, parry for parry. When Song Woo-Ji had finally felled him, binding his soul to his necromantic powers, it had felt like conquering death itself. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And lastly, there was Sorva, the Fallen Mage. Sorva had been a master of arcane arts, her lair a twisting labyrinth of illusion and magic deep beneath the Scarlet Crags. Song Woo-Ji had spent days wandering through her domain, fending off her traps and ambushes, his mind stretched to its limits by the constant barrage of sorcery. Sorva had appeared before him in the form of a wraith, her body flickering between reality and the void. Their battle had been one of endurance, Song Woo-Ji using every ounce of his will to break through her magical defenses. When he finally brought her down, her essence had become another weapon in his arsenal. And yet, now¡ªnow, all of them were being slaughtered by the Orc horde leader he had trapped in his domain. The Orc horde leader was cutting through them like they were nothing more than fodder, their once formidable strength utterly useless against his brute power. Smash! Another undead pawn crumbled under Orc horde leader''s attack, its skull caving in like a fragile eggshell. Song Woo-Ji stared at the carnage, disbelief tightening around his throat. How? How could this be happening? These undead had faced the most grueling battles, overcome impossible odds, yet here they were, helpless before this monstrous orc. The realization gnawed at his head like a pin needle, it tasted bitter and unforgiving. The Orc horde leader was a tower of muscle and rage, and he could feel like his every movement were calculated, every strike was devastating and destructive. His crimson eyes glowed with an unquenchable thirst for blood. Song Woo-Ji''s chest tightened as the Orc horde Leader''s gaze fell on him, the orc''s mouth curling into a feral grin. The undead may have been a nuisance, but Song Woo-Ji? He was Volk''s true prey. Volk roared, the sound reverberating across the battlefield like a thunderclap from the raging sky. "IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE, LITTLE HUMAN?!" His voice boomed, shaking the very ground. "YOUR PAWNS ARE NOTHING!" Song Woo-Ji''s heart pounded in his chest. His hands, slick with blood, clenched tighter around the hilt of his sword. The air crackled with tension as Volk charged, his enormous frame barreling through the field like a runaway beast. Song Woo-Ji''s mind raced, trying to calculate his next move, but the pain, the exhaustion¡ªit was all too much. Suddenly, Volk disappeared¡ªswoosh!¡ªvanishing from sight. For a split second, everything went silent. Song Woo-Ji''s eyes widened. Where had he gone? Then, just as quickly, Volk reappeared behind him. Whoosh! The air shifted, the scent of blood thick in the atmosphere. "SURRENDER YOUR LIFE, LITTLE HUMAN!" V olk''s voice was like a crashing wave, his presence overwhelming. Song Woo-Ji could feel the ground tremble beneath his feet. But before Volk could land a killing blow, something shifted in the air. A dark, oppressive energy seeped from Song Woo-Ji''s body, spreading outward like a thick mist. The temperature dropped, the smell of death flooding the area. Time seemed to slow, the world turning grey as the energy wrapped itself around Song Woo-Ji, forming a swirling vortex of bones and shadows. Crack! The bones twisted and merged, forming armor that clung to Song Woo-Ji''s body like a second skin. His right hand clenched, and a spear materialized¡ªcrafted from countless bones, spinning like a drill, its edges sharp enough to tear through steel. The transformation was complete in an instant. Song Woo-Ji''s eyes gleamed from within the bone helmet, the glow of deathly power pulsating through him. His voice, cold and detached, echoed across the battlefield. "Executor Mode: Drill Breaker." Volk paused, eyes narrowing as he stared at the human before him. Something was wrong. This piercing power¡ªit was unlike anything he had ever faced. He took a step back hoping to evade the attack, but it was already too late. Vvvvrrrr! The spear spun faster, the sound of the drill piercing the air like a shriek. Without warning, Song Woo-Ji lunged, the bone spear driving forward with terrifying speed. Volk swung his axe, trying to block the attack, but the spear shattered through it¡ªcrack!¡ªsending shards of metal flying. Song Woo-Ji didn''t stop. His movements were fluid, precise, and unrelenting. Thud! Thud! Thud! The spear drilled into Volk''s massive body, each impact punctuated by the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. Blood sprayed from Volk''s wounds, the bone drill carving through his flesh with ease. Each strike drilled deeper, faster, ripping through muscle, bone, and sinew. Volk roared in agony, his body convulsing as he tried to fight back, but the assault was relentless. From every angle, the spear struck, drilling holes into Volk''s arms, legs, chest¡ªeverywhere. His body was riddled with gaping wounds, each one large enough to see straight through to the other side. Blood poured from him like a river, his once mighty form reduced to a mass of torn flesh and broken bones. Splurt! A final thrust of the spear drilled through Volk''s chest, and the Orc horde leader fell to his knees, and his strength was gone in that moment. He looked down at the countless holes in his body, disbelief and pain etched across his face. Song Woo-Ji stood over him, the spear in his hand still spinning, its tip drenched in blood. He didn''t say a word. He didn''t need to. The battle was over. Volk''s body slumped forward, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. The sound echoed across the enclosed battlefield, like a grim reminder of the brutal fight that had just taken place. Song Woo-Ji looked down at his fallen opponent, his breathing ragged, but his resolve unshaken. The bone armor around him slowly dissipated, crumbling into dust, leaving him standing alone amidst the carnage. The orc horde Leader was no more. Chapter 138 - 138: Another system user Song Woo-Ji stood amidst the battlefield, the last remnants of his Draconic Graveyard domain still flickering in the air. The bone spear in his hand slowly crumbled, falling into dust as his body returned to its normal state. He exhaled, a long, weary sigh escaping his lips. "H-a-a-a-a-a-a¡­" The battle had drained him¡ªmore than he was willing to admit. His eyes flicked to the fallen body of orc, now lying motionless on the blood-soaked ground. The Orc leader was a formidable opponent, far stronger than any he had faced before. But it wasn''t just the battle that weighed heavily on him¡ªit was the transformation. The Death Knight form. Song Woo-Ji raised a trembling hand, touching his chest where the bone armor had once clung. He could still feel the residual energy, dark and corrosive, gnawing at the edges of his soul. It was power, yes. But it came at a price. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before calling out, "System. Report." The air around him shimmered, and a soft, metallic voice filled his mind. [[ Yes, Master Song Woo-Ji. [[ Executor Mode: Drill Breaker has been successfully executed. However, your current soul integrity has been compromised by 20%. [[ Continued use of the Death Knight form in this state may result in irreversible damage. ]] Song Woo-Ji grimaced. He knew it had been dangerous. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The power of the Death Knight was immense, but every time he used it, he felt a piece of himself slipping away. It was like inviting a part of death itself to live within him. "Fortunately, I managed to use it one last time..." His voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "But I can''t keep relying on it. Not like this. If I use that form too often, it''ll corrupt my soul." The system hummed in agreement. [[ Affirmative. [[ Sustained use will accelerate soul degradation. It is advised to minimize usage, Master. ]] Song Woo-Ji''s jaw tightened. He had no choice today¡ªThe Orc horde Leader would have killed him without the Death Knight form. But it left him vulnerable now, with barely enough energy to maintain his grip on his necromantic powers. "What''s happening outside?" he asked, turning his gaze toward the edges of the domain where reality began to distort and fray. "How long until the Draconic Domain collapses?" The system responded promptly. [[ The Draconic Domain will dissipate in approximately a few minutes. [[ External factors indicate ongoing conflict between human forces and the remaining Orc horde. [[ Orc reinforcements have been delayed due to the incapacitation of their leader. ]] Suddenly, from behind Song Woo-Ji, a small skeleton emerged. It hopped onto his shoulder, a bony creature no bigger than a child''s hand. Its hollow eyes gleamed with mischief as it tilted its head and spoke in a raspy voice. "No, Master, the situation outside is still terrible. The humans and the Orc horde are locked in a fierce battle. But luckily for you, taking the Orc leader hostage has kept things from getting worse." The little skeleton chuckled. "They''re panicking without their leader. But don''t worry. Reinforcements should arrive soon. By the time they get here, you can slip out and get some rest." Song Woo-Ji frowned, rubbing his temples. "Tch. And here I was hoping to avoid any more of this mess." His exhaustion weighed heavily, and the mention of reinforcements meant he had little time left. Just as Song Woo-Ji was about to speak, a faint twitch caught his eye. His gaze shot to Volk''s corpse lying at his feet. The massive orc''s body shuddered, muscles rippling beneath the torn flesh. A faint movement¡ªthe slightest flicker of life. Song Woo-Ji''s heart skipped a beat. Volk''s eyelids fluttered, just for a moment, but then they snapped shut again, as if he had decided to play dead. The Orc leader was far from finished. The little skeleton on his shoulder leaned forward, peering at Volk. "Hey, master," it said with a low hiss, "want me to reanimate this one? He''s strong. Could be useful as another undead pawn." Song Woo-Ji shook his head, feeling the last dredge of his energy slipping away. "No. I don''t have enough much mana left. Not after using the Death Knight form." The skeleton let out a disappointed sigh. "Shame. This Orc''s got some real power. Stronger than the others we''ve faced." Song Woo-Ji''s brow furrowed. "Other Orcs¡­" He cast his mind back to the dungeons he had raided before this one. There had been many. One Orc after another, each stronger than the last, each a deadly threat in their own right. There was Krul, the Bone Crusher, from the Frostbone Peaks. Song Woo-Ji had battled him in a frozen wasteland, every step a struggle against both the Orc and the biting cold. Krul had wielded a massive hammer, each swing capable of shattering the frozen ground beneath their feet. It had taken every ounce of Song Woo-Ji''s cunning to bring him down, using the ice itself to trap and break the monster. Then there was Durk, the Flame Warden, from the Ember Crag. That dungeon had been a furnace of heat and fire, with lava flowing like rivers through the narrow paths. Durk had commanded the flames themselves, wielding them like weapons. Song Woo-Ji had barely escaped with his life, using his undead to shield him from the burning onslaught. And who could forget Magra, the Shadow Skulker? She had been a cunning adversary, lurking in the dark recesses of the Black Hollow. Magra had moved like a phantom, slipping between the shadows, striking when least expected. Song Woo-Ji had nearly been overwhelmed in that labyrinthine dungeon, but his necromancy had saved him, turning the very shadows she controlled against her. The fourth, Thrag, the Ironclad, was the toughest of them all. Deep within the Ironstone Depths, Thrag had stood like a living fortress, his body covered in thick, impenetrable armor. No weapon had been able to pierce his defenses. It was only through careful strategy¡ªusing his own environment against him¡ªthat Song Woo-Ji had managed to exploit a weakness, bringing the massive Orc crashing down. As Song Woo-Ji recalled each of these battles, his eyes fell once more on Volk. "This one''s different," he muttered. "Stronger than the others. Maybe because he''s a C-class Orc horde leader. The meanest, the strongest of them all." He glanced at the little skeleton. "We''ll have to expect stronger monsters like this in the future. The gates are only going to get worse." The little skeleton tapped its bony fingers together thoughtfully. "Maybe. But for now, you''re alive. That counts for something, right?" Song Woo-Ji grunted, his body heavy with fatigue. "For now." He could feel the strain pulling at him, the edge of exhaustion too sharp to ignore. The battles were getting tougher. The gates were opening more frequently. And the enemies coming through them¡­ well, if Volk was any indication, they were only going to get worse. After a few moments of silence, Song Woo-Ji exhaled deeply. "System, turn off." The air grew still for a moment, but before Song Woo-Ji could relax, something stirred beneath him. His instincts flared, eyes darting to the ground where Volk lay. But was missing. Thud. Suddenly, a massive green hand shot up from the corpse was supposed to be, gripping Song Woo-Ji''s ankle with terrifying force. His eyes widened in shock as the ground seemed to quake beneath him. The grip tightened, the rough, calloused skin of the Orc''s hand digging into his flesh like iron shackles. The little skeleton let out a high-pitched yelp, scrambling to stay perched on Song Woo-Ji''s shoulder. "Master, look out!" But before Song Woo-Ji could react, his vision blurred as the massive hand yanked him downward. Chapter 139 - 139: Crushed Sung Woo-Ji barely had time to register what was happening before Volk''s twisted form emerged from the ground, his facial features distorted in unnatural ways. The Orc leader''s eyes gleamed with a sinister light, and his lips twisted into a grotesque smile. "Interesting... a system," Volk muttered, his voice dripping with malice. Before Sung Woo-Ji could even react, the grip around his ankle tightened, the massive green hand holding him in place. But then it grew. The hand expanded, grotesquely swelling in size until it was no longer just gripping his leg. Half of Sung Woo-Ji''s body was now encased in the Orc''s oversized hand, the pressure mounting with each passing second. Volk''s grin widened. His voice thundered with malevolent glee. "I''LL CRUSH YOU!" Sung Woo-Ji gasped, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him as Volk''s hand tightened, the air squeezed from his lungs. It was as though the very life was being wrung from his body. His bones creaked under the strain, and a sharp pain shot through his ribs. But before the hand could crush him entirely, something shifted. CRACK! Bone ribs¡ªsharp, jagged, and eerily familiar¡ªsuddenly encased Sung Woo-Ji, springing from his own body like a second skin. They wrapped around him in a protective cocoon, halting Volk''s crushing grip for a moment. The Orc leader paused, his eyes narrowing at the unexpected resistance. Then, his twisted grin returned. "BONY MAIN CHARACTER, I''LL CRUSH!" Volk roared, his voice shaking the earth beneath them. With a deafening crack, Volk''s fingers tightened once more, his immense strength overwhelming the protective bones. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The ribs began to crumble, shattering piece by piece under the immense pressure. Sung Woo-Ji could feel them breaking, the defensive layer splintering like brittle wood. And then, with a final crunch, the bone barrier disintegrated entirely, leaving him exposed. Volk''s hand gripped tighter. The pain was unbearable now, searing through Sung Woo-Ji''s body like fire. His chest heaved, trying desperately to pull in air, but the crushing force made it impossible. His vision blurred at the edges, the world around him seemed to darken. The sensation of hopelessness gnawed at his mind. It was happening too fast¡ªeverything was happening too fast. His thoughts raced, yet they couldn''t catch up with the terror unfolding around him. He felt the fear crawling up his spine, spreading like ice through his veins. Was this terror? He had faced death before, but this... this was different. This was overwhelming, a force too great to resist. Should he give up now? Was there any point in fighting anymore? For a brief moment, his mind wandered back to who he once was. He remembered the days when he was nothing more than an E-rank hunter, the weakest of them all. Back then, he wasn''t even considered a hunter by most standards. He was just a boy trying to survive, trying to provide for his sick mother. Those days were filled with endless struggle¡ªdays spent scavenging, barely scraping by in the underbelly of the hunting world. He had been so weak. So helpless. He had signed up for low-level dungeons, not because he believed he could contribute, but because he needed the money to pay for his mother''s medicine. Every time he faced a monster, his hands would tremble. His heart would pound so loudly in his chest that it drowned out every other sound. He wasn''t like the other hunters¡ªthose confident warriors who seemed born to fight. He was just a scared kid, fumbling with a rusty sword. And then, there was that day. The day he almost died. It was supposed to be a low-risk dungeon, but instead, he found himself in the heart of a dragon''s tomb. The air had been thick with ancient magic, and he had stumbled upon something he shouldn''t have¡ªa trap left by the dragon that nearly killed him. But instead of death, something else happened. Something impossible. He had survived, barely, and when he awoke, the System was there. It spoke to him, offering him power, offering him a way to escape his fate. From that moment, everything changed. He completed quests, defeated monsters, and grew stronger. He learned how to use the System, mastering the art of necromancy, turning his fallen enemies into undead servants. His rise was swift, but not without hardship. The struggle never ended. He fought through dungeons, through endless waves of monsters, each one more powerful than the last. He remembered the raid on Jedunzo Island¡ªa turning point in his life. There, he had faced an entire horde of creatures, leading a team of hunters and showcasing his newfound abilities. His command over death had made him a force to be reckoned with. That raid had earned him respect. It had lifted him from the bottom of the ranks, propelling him to the status of an elite C-ranker. He had clawed his way up, fighting tooth and nail for every bit of power he now possessed. But now, as the Orc horde Leader''s hand squeezed tighter, he wondered: Was it all for nothing? Is this terror? Is this the end? Should he give up now? The crushing pressure intensified, and Sung Woo-Ji''s thoughts became hazy. He could barely think. The pain was too much. But deep inside, something stirred. A flicker of anger. Of defiance. "No..." Sung Woo-Ji''s voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed in his mind, louder than the roar of Volk''s rage. "No, I won''t give up now." Yes, why would he give up! He understood now. Even with a system in his hands, he must do everything to win. Son Woo-Ji accepted to himself that he became arrogant! He is not the strongest of them all yet, so why should be arrogant! "Noooo!" He said with anger. The words repeated in his head, growing stronger, more forceful. He had come too far, fought too hard, survived too many impossible battles to die here. He wasn''t the weak E-rank hunter anymore. He wasn''t the scared boy who cowered in the face of danger. He was Sung Woo-Ji, a necromancer, a warrior who had faced death and come back stronger every time. He clenched his fists, his body trembling with both pain and newfound determination. But as the anger and resolve surged within him, Volk''s grip only tightened further, squeezing him with inhuman strength. The pain was unbearable, his bones creaking under the pressure, threatening to snap. Yet, he swore. Song Woo-Ji swore in his head that he will make this Orc horde Leader one his undead army! YEEES!! However, as he thought of this. Crack! Sung Woo-Ji gasped, feeling his ribs shift unnaturally. The air was squeezed from his lungs, and his vision began to blur again. His resolve faltered for just a moment as the reality of the situation set in. He was powerless. He had no more tricks, no more magic. His mana reserves were depleted. The Death Knight form had already drained him of everything. And now, Volk was crushing him. It was over. The grip tightened one last time, and Sung Woo-Ji''s body buckled under the pressure. His mind went blank. No thoughts, no emotions¡ªjust the cold, crushing sensation of death wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud. In the final moment, everything faded to black. Kabam! Chapter 140 - 140: Vessel of Death Monarch Volk''s massive, twisted form stood over the battlefield, his mutated features contorted into a mask of grim satisfaction. The air around him crackled with radioactive energy, the very ground beneath his feet scorched and withered. His glowing eyes surveyed the scene, lingering on the crumbled remnants of the Ranker World''s finest hunters. Broken bodies lay strewn across the field, and a thick miasma of death clung to the bones and dust that filled the Draconic Graveyard domain. He could still feel the weight of Sung Woo-Ji''s crushed form in his hand. The limp body of the once-feared Ranker dangled from his oversized fist, unmoving, broken, lifeless. Volk''s mind didn''t linger on the significance of his kill. To him, it didn''t matter that this human was one of the pillars of the Ranker World. What mattered was that he had completed his mission. He wasn''t interested in the intricacies of systems or the power they offered. The only thing that drove him was the mission. He looked down at Sung Woo-Ji''s crumpled body, still gripped in his massive palm, and his lips twisted into a frown. For a moment, something flickered in his mind¡ªa brief curiosity about the system Sung Woo-Ji possessed. But Volk shrugged it off. The intricacies of a system didn''t concern him. His mission was simple: kill the ranked hunters. Nothing more, nothing less. Then came the familiar chime in his ear. || Ding! A notification flashed before Volk''s eyes: | Mission: Murder all the Ranked Pillars within an hour. | Ranked Pillars: 25/25. | Reward: Travel to Orzaroth. | Failure: The host will no longer be able to use Nuclear Devastation attacks in Grum-Gar form. | Mission Status: Completed. | Volk''s lips stretched into a cruel smile. His task was finished. The reward, long promised, was finally his. The thought of the magical world of Orzaroth filled his mind with anticipation. He''s now ready to go, a realm where Solluha''r was in, and now it was his to claim. "VOOOLK FEEEEELS GOOD!" he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the air, shaking the bones scattered across the ground. His enormous, ogre-like form pulsed with radioactive energy, casting a sickly green glow over the entire battlefield. But as Volk reveled in his victory, another chime rang out, and a new notification appeared in front of his eyes. || Ding! | New Mission Issued. | Mission: Murder the vessel of the Death Monarch with a time frame. | Time frame: 20 minutes. | Reward: Travel to Orzaroth with the Horde. | Failure: The host will travel alone, and the Horde will perish. | Volk''s brow furrowed as he read the new mission. His initial triumph faded as a wave of frustration washed over him. "Another mission? Twenty minutes" he grumbled, his voice low and guttural. He looked around, his eyes scanning the battlefield with renewed suspicion. The vessel of the Death Monarch? His gaze shifted to the bones and dead air that permeated the domain, an unsettling aura of death still clinging to the space around him. Something was wrong. The ranker in his hand, the so-called Death Monarch, should have been dead, and yet the system implied he wasn''t. The gnawing feeling in Volk''s gut grew, and he slowly turned his gaze back to his own hand. There, in his massive palm, the human''s body still hung limp, but Volk''s instincts kicked in. He growled, his eyes narrowing. Without hesitation, Volk slammed Sung Woo-Ji''s body into the ground with all the force he could muster. WHAM! The impact sent a cloud of dust and shattered bone fragments into the air, the ground beneath them trembling. Volk''s massive fist followed, pounding into the earth over and over again, each strike shaking the battlefield with violent, earth-shattering blows. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! "GRAAAAAAAHHH!" Volk''s roar echoed across the field as he brought his fists down, again and again, each punch more brutal than the last. He was determined to crush every last shred of life from the human. His rage exploded with every strike, his massive form looming over the battered remains of Sung Woo-Ji. He pulled his fist back for another punch and paused, his breath heavy and ragged. The ground was a crater beneath him, and Sung Woo-Ji''s body was little more than a bloodied mess. But Volk''s brow furrowed once again. Something still felt off. The eerie silence that followed each blow gnawed at him, an unsettling feeling he couldn''t shake. He leaned down, his massive radioactive form casting a grotesque shadow over the battered corpse, his eyes narrowing as he studied it closely. Was it truly dead? Was this the end of the so-called Death Monarch? He needed to be sure. The system''s mission weighed heavily on his mind¡ªfailure would cost him his entire horde, and he couldn''t afford that, or could he? S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His pride couldn''t. Volk grunted and raised his fist once more. THUD! THUD! THUD! The punches rained down, relentless, savage. Dust and debris exploded around him as the ground caved under the force of his blows. Each strike sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. But no matter how many times he struck, the feeling remained. The sense that something wasn''t right. Panting, Volk finally stopped. He stood up to his full height, his massive chest heaving with exertion. His glowing eyes fixed on the crumpled, lifeless form of Sung Woo-Ji. The human had been reduced to a broken, bloodied mess, barely recognizable as a body anymore. Volk snorted, wiping a thick, green droplet of saliva from the corner of his mouth. He knelt down once more, leaning in close to the remains, sniffing the air around them. His massive nostrils flared, searching for any sign of life. He had to be sure. Nothing. No heartbeat. No breath. Just death. Finally, Volk straightened, a satisfied grin creeping across his face. The Death Monarch, the vessel of whatever strange power this human possessed, was no more. He could feel it. There was nothing left. He''d crushed him, obliterated him, left no room for even a flicker of life to remain. Volk threw his head back and let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "HEH!" he snorted, the sound echoing through the ruined domain. "NO MORE BONES. NO MORE SYSTEM!" He stepped back, the twisted grin still on his face, his gigantic radioactive form casting an ominous shadow over the battlefield. He had done it. He had completed his mission, and the next step was clear. Orzaroth awaited him, and with his horde at his side, there was nothing in this world¡ªor the next¡ªthat could stand in his way. For now, the Death Monarch was dead. And Volk, in all his radioactive, monstrous glory, had claimed his victory. "HEH!" he snorted once more, turning his back on the crumpled remains. Chapter 141 - 141: Bone Dragon vs Volk Volk''s eyes flicked upward, squinting as the sky above him shimmered with a strange, otherworldly light. Three suns hung in the heavens, their rays casting an eerie glow across the landscape. The realization hit his head like a tidal wave: he was still inside the Draconic Graveyard, the dimension that Sung Woo-Ji had controlled. "HUH?" Volk grunted, his massive radioactive form heaving as his frustration grew. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He had killed the human¡ªhadn''t he?¡ªbut still, the domain remained intact. That meant only one thing: the fight wasn''t over. Something more was coming. The hair on the back of his neck bristled, and for the first time, unease slithered into Volk''s mind. Suddenly, the bones scattered around the battlefield began to tremble. At first, it was barely noticeable, just a faint rattle, like the soft tapping of fingernails against stone. But then the sound grew louder. A deep, hollow clack echoed through the air, followed by the ominous scraping of bone against bone. Volk turned, his glowing eyes narrowing as he watched in disbelief. The bones that had once littered the ground were now moving¡ªdragging themselves together with an unnatural, jerking motion. Skeletal fragments fused, twisting into monstrous shapes, forming a spine that coiled upward into the air. The bones gathered in a whirlwind of dust and death, snapping into place with a chilling precision. The ground trembled as the monstrous form took shape, towering over Volk''s massive frame. The air grew thick, heavy with a suffocating presence. It felt as if the very essence of death was seeping into every corner of the domain. Volk could taste it on the back of his tongue, a cold, metallic tang that sent shivers down his spine. His heart pounded in his chest as the creature fully formed before him¡ªa dragon of pure bone, its massive wings stretching out like the skeletal remains of a long-dead beast. Its hollow eye sockets burned with an eerie, otherworldly light, and its jaw hung open, filled with rows of razor-sharp fangs. CRRRREEEEAAAAK. The bone dragon''s movements were jagged and unnatural, its spine twisting and cracking as it reared its skull back, preparing to unleash a roar that would shake the heavens. The air around Volk grew colder, the temperature dropping as an icy wind howled through the battlefield. ROOOOOAAAAAARRR! The bone dragon''s roar ripped through the air like a thunderclap, shaking the very foundations of the Draconic Graveyard. The sound was deafening, a terrifying, primal scream that seemed to come from the depths of the underworld itself. Volk staggered back, his massive form trembling under the sheer force of the roar. His radioactive aura flickered, dimming momentarily as the creature''s presence filled the space. "NOT DEAD?" Volk muttered, his deep, guttural voice barely audible over the dragon''s roar. The creature before him was no mere remnant of the graveyard¡ªthis was a manifestation of Sung Woo-Ji''s power, a final, desperate retaliation from the Death Monarch himself. Volk''s eyes narrowed. This was only the beginning. The bone dragon lunged forward, its wings flaring wide as it swooped down toward Volk with terrifying speed. Volk braced himself, his enormous muscles bulging as he prepared for impact. SLAM! The bone dragon''s tail whipped through the air like a massive club, crashing into Volk''s side and sending him hurtling across the battlefield. He skidded through the dirt, his massive radioactive form leaving a trail of scorched earth in its wake. BOOM! Volk smashed into a pile of bones, the impact sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air. He grunted, pushing himself up with his massive fists, his glowing eyes burning with fury. "YOU... THINK... VOLK CAN BE STOPPED?!" With a roar of his own, Volk charged forward, his enormous fists slamming into the air as he swung wildly at the bone dragon. "SMASSSHHH!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the ground as he launched himself into a series of brutal, relentless attacks. His radioactive aura flared brighter, crackling with deadly energy. The bone dragon darted to the side, its movements swift and unnatural. It lashed out with its claws, its bone talons scraping against Volk''s skin with a screeching sound. "DIVIIIDEEE!" Volk roared, slamming his fist into the air with a shockwave of force. His massive, green hands swung down toward the bone dragon, but the creature moved with a grace that belied its skeletal form, dodging his attacks with ease. Volk''s frustration grew. His fists swung down again and again, each blow more savage than the last. "VOOOOOOOLLL!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the battlefield as he attacked, "SMAAAASSSSHH!!" But no matter how hard he struck, the bone dragon refused to fall. Its bones seemed impervious to his blows, and with every strike Volk landed, the dragon retaliated with bone-shaking force. WHAM! The dragon''s massive wing slammed into Volk''s chest, sending him flying once more. He crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact, his radioactive form crackling with energy as he pulled himself to his feet once again. "GRAAAAAHHH!" Volk roared, his patience wearing thin. His fists clenched, and a dark, twisted smile spread across his face. "VOOOOOLLLKK ANGRRRYYY!!!" he bellowed, his voice booming as he unleashed his next attack. Tiny, glowing spores burst forth from his hands, filling the air around the bone dragon. The spores swirled in the air, carried by an invisible wind, and as they made contact with the dragon''s skeletal form, Volk''s smile widened. "PARALYZE!" Volk shouted, swinging his fist toward the dragon. But the spores had no effect. The dragon moved through them with ease, unaffected by the debilitating attack. "CRUUUUUSSHHH!!!" Volk tried again, slamming his fist into the ground, sending a shockwave of spores into the air. But again, the bone dragon remained unfazed, its hollow eyes burning with a cold, unyielding light. "SMAAASSHHHH!" Volk''s attacks grew more frantic, his massive fists pounding the ground as he unleashed spore after spore. But no matter how many attacks he launched, the bone dragon seemed immune to them all. SLAM! The bone dragon''s tail whipped through the air once more, slamming into Volk''s chest with bone-crushing force. Volk let out a roar of pain as he was sent flying back, crashing into the ground with a deafening thud. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to push himself up. The bone dragon loomed over him, its skeletal form towering above his own massive body. The air around them was thick with tension, the feeling of death and danger pressing down on Volk from all sides. But Volk wasn''t finished. With a guttural roar, Volk''s body began to change. His muscles bulged even further, his radioactive aura flaring brighter as his form grew larger and more monstrous. His skin stretched and cracked, his bones creaking as his body expanded. "VOOOLK... GROWS... STRONGER!" he bellowed, his voice filled with rage and power. His form doubled in size, his radioactive energy crackling like lightning around him as he prepared for the final showdown. The bone dragon let out a low, menacing growl, its hollow eyes fixed on Volk as it prepared to strike once more. Chapter 142 - 142: Bone Bone Bones Volk''s massive green fists slammed into the bone dragon''s chest with a sickening CRACK, sending shards of bone scattering through the air. The impact rattled the battlefield, shaking the very ground beneath his feet. For a moment, Volk felt a surge of triumph. He had landed a solid hit, a blow that should have shattered the creature completely. But then, the impossible happened. The broken bones¡ªscattered in every direction¡ªbegan to move again. Clatter. Clatter. The fragments of the dragon''s shattered ribcage twisted and jerked, dragging themselves back toward the center of the battlefield. Volk''s radioactive eyes widened as the bones clicked together, reforming with eerie precision. The dragon, whose chest he had just obliterated, was whole once again. "WHAT...?" Volk growled, his voice filled with disbelief. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His fists clenched as he swung again, bringing both hands down on the dragon''s head with all his might. BOOM! The skull shattered into dust, disintegrating into a cloud of bone fragments that blew across the domain. But as soon as the dust settled, the scattered bones began to move once more. Each fragment flew back into place, seamlessly reattaching to the body. Within seconds, the bone dragon was fully reformed, its eye sockets glowing with that cold, dead light. Volk let out a roar of frustration. "HOW YOU KEEP COMING BACK?! YOU MAKING VOLK ANGRY!!" His voice was a mixture of rage and confusion. This was unlike anything he had ever faced before. His fists, which had crushed armies, demolished cities, and left nothing but ruin in their wake, were completely useless against this creature. He snarled, his massive form charging forward once more. "VOLK ANGRY... DESTROY!" His fists swung wildly, smashing into the dragon''s wings, its legs, its spine¡ªany part of the beast he could reach. Each time, the bones crumbled under the force of his blows. Each time, the dragon was reduced to nothing but dust and splinters. But each time, it reformed. Clack. Clack. Clack. The bones pulled themselves together, one piece at a time, with a dreadful inevitability. The sound of them clattering back into place was maddening, a constant reminder that no matter how much destruction Volk wrought, the creature refused to die. "NO! NO MORE!" Volk roared, his frustration mounting as he slammed both of his massive fists down again, pounding the dragon into the ground with a brutal WHAM. The earth shook under the force of his blows, cracks spreading through the domain like veins of death. The bone dragon crumbled into a pile of shattered fragments, its body utterly destroyed. Dust filled the air, a cloud of bone particles swirling around Volk''s hulking form. But then, as Volk''s breaths came heavy and ragged, the dust began to shift. The fragments of bone moved, clicking together like the pieces of a grotesque puzzle. Volk''s eyes widened as he watched in horror. The dragon was reforming again. Piece by piece, the bones slid back into place, a rib here, a spine there. The skull, cracked in half moments before, reassembled itself with eerie precision. The dragon stood tall once more, unscathed, as if nothing had happened. ROOOOOAAAAARRR! The bone dragon''s roar pierced the air, its sound so loud that Volk''s ears rang from the impact. It wasn''t just a roar of defiance¡ªit was a call. A call to something far more terrifying than what Volk had been prepared for. The air shifted. Volk''s breath hitched in his throat as he felt a cold wind blow across the battlefield. His eyes darted around, searching for the source of the sudden chill. The bones scattered across the domain trembled. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as he realized what was happening. From the far edges of the Draconic Graveyard, more bones began to rise. First, they were just small piles of skeletal remains¡ªmere fragments of long-dead creatures. But they began to move. And then, they began to gather. Volk watched in horror as the bones pulled themselves together, forming not one, but two bone dragons. Their hollow eye sockets glowed with the same cold, dead light, and their skeletal forms creaked as they stretched their massive wings. Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound of bones snapping into place filled the air as more and more dragons rose from the earth. Three. Four. Five. Ten. Twenty. An endless number of bone dragons emerged from the ground, each one identical to the first, their forms towering over Volk''s radioactive frame. The sky darkened as the dragons filled the air, their wings blocking out the light of the three suns that hung in the sky. "NO... NO... THIS CAN''T BE!" Volk screamed, his voice cracking with panic. His fists clenched tightly, his radioactive aura flaring with a desperate intensity. But no matter how powerful he was, no matter how many times he crushed the bones beneath his fists, they kept coming back. More dragons. More bones. The battlefield was a sea of white, jagged bone, stretching as far as Volk could see. The air was thick with the stench of death, and the cold, suffocating presence of the undead filled every corner of the domain. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the panic rising in his throat, choking him. For the first time in his life, he felt a deep, primal fear. A fear that no matter how strong he was, no matter how much destruction he unleashed, he could not win. ROOOOOAAAAARRR! The bone dragons let out a deafening roar in unison, their hollow eye sockets glowing with that eerie light. The ground shook beneath Volk''s feet as they moved toward him, their massive wings sending gusts of icy wind through the battlefield. Volk staggered back, his eyes wide with terror. How is he gonna deal with this?! How is he going to deal with countless enemies? He is confident against a giant, but countless of them? This was something he could not understand, something he could not destroy. Because even if he did, it would just grow back! The dragons closed in around him, their skeletal forms casting long, dark shadows over the battlefield. Volk''s radioactive energy flared, but it was no use. The bone dragons were endless. For the first time in his life, Volk, the unstoppable juggernaut, felt truly powerless. And as the bone dragons surrounded him, their eyes glowing with the light of death, Volk knew one thing for certain: The fight was absolutely going to long. Chapter 143 - 143: More Violence Volk''s massive form twisted and jerked as the bone dragons swarmed around him. Each strike he landed sent clouds of bone dust into the air, but no matter how hard or fast he attacked, the dragons kept reforming. His radioactive fists smashed through rib cages, crushed skulls, and shattered spines, but the fragments would simply pull back together, knitting themselves into new creatures as though his efforts were meaningless. "GRAAAAARGH!" Volk roared, his voice booming across the battlefield, shaking the very ground beneath him. He slammed his fist into a dragon''s skull, reducing it to dust once more. But even as the bones crumbled at his feet, more dragons appeared from the endless sea of skeletons around him. It was like fighting a tide¡ªno matter how many he destroyed, they always returned. The air around him was thick with death. It clung to him like a cold, damp cloak, chilling his skin despite the radioactive heat that radiated from his body. His breath came in ragged gasps, the effort of fighting off the endless horde of undead wearing him down. Crack! Smash! BOOM! The sounds of bone and flesh colliding echoed through the graveyard as Volk swung his fists wildly, each blow creating a deafening explosion. However, the dragons moved faster than he could keep up, darting in and out of his reach, their skeletal forms snapping and clattering with deadly precision. "SMASSSH!" Volk howled as he swung his fist through the air, aiming for another dragon that had swooped down from above. His fist connected with its jaw, sending bone fragments flying in every direction. But the creature barely paused. Its body twisted, reforming in midair before slamming into him with the force of a speeding boulder. Volk staggered back, his feet digging deep trenches into the earth as he struggled to regain his balance. He could feel the weight of the battle pressing down on him, like an invisible hand squeezing his chest. "DIVIIIDE!" He bellowed, launching another spore strike. The spores flew through the air, glowing with a sickly green light as they impacted the bone dragons. But even the paralysis, confusion, and disorienting effects of his spores did nothing. The dragons barely reacted. It was as though they were immune to his powers, their undead forms untouched by his radioactivity. One of the bone dragons lunged at him, its jaws snapping with a CRUNCH as they closed around his arm. Volk let out a guttural roar of pain, swinging his massive fist to dislodge the creature. He smashed its skull to pieces, sending the bones flying across the battlefield. But once again, the bones began to pull themselves back together, reassembling into a new dragon. "NOOO! STAY DEAD!" . Volk screamed, his rage reaching a fever pitch. He swung his fists in every direction, smashing the dragons left and right. His radioactive energy flared, casting an eerie green glow over the battlefield as he unleashed a wave of destruction. BOOM! He sent another dragon flying with a powerful uppercut, its body disintegrating into dust. But even as he watched, the dust began to swirl, pulling itself back together. More bones rose from the ground, forming new dragons faster than Volk could destroy them. His vision blurred with frustration and exhaustion. Sweat poured down his green skin, mixing with the blood that seeped from the wounds the dragons had managed to inflict. His breaths were coming faster now, each one a ragged gasp for air. He wasn''t winning. He wasn''t even holding them off. ROOOOOAAARR! Another bone dragon slammed into his side, its skeletal wings cutting into his flesh like knives. Volk screamed in pain, his hand reaching for the creature, but before he could crush it, three more dragons descended upon him. They clawed and bit at his body, their teeth and talons slicing through his radioactive skin as though it were nothing more than paper. "NO...!" Volk roared, trying to shake them off. He thrashed wildly, swinging his fists in every direction, but the bone dragons were relentless. They were everywhere. Surrounding him. Clawing at him. Tearing him apart. Volk''s knees buckled. He fell to the ground, the weight of the dragons pressing him down into the dirt. His massive hands trembled as he tried to push himself back up, but his strength was fading fast. His vision blurred again, this time from more than just exhaustion. Was this... fear? "RAAAAAHHHH!" Volk unleashed a final roar, pushing himself up with all the strength he had left. He swung his fists one more time, smashing through the dragons around him. Bones shattered, but the moment they hit the ground, they began to pull themselves back together. As he struggled to keep fighting, a sharp ding echoed in his ears. Volk''s blood ran cold. A notification appeared in his vision, glowing red: Time Remaining: 5 minutes. Mission Failure: All Horde Members Will Die. Volk''s eyes widened in horror. His fists, already trembling from exhaustion, clenched tighter as the reality of the situation sank in. He had only five minutes left to complete his mission. Five minutes before he lost everything. Before his horde¡ªhis army¡ªwas wiped out completely. "NO!" Volk roared, his voice filled with desperation. He could feel the panic rising in his chest, suffocating him. He couldn''t fail. He wouldn''t fail. He had to finish this. He had to kill the vessel of the Death Monarch. But where was it? Where was the human that had started this entire nightmare? His eyes darted around the battlefield, searching for any sign of his target, the main character, but all he saw were nothing but bones. Endless amount of bones. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest as the glowing numbers in his vision burned brighter. Time Remaining: 4 minutes. The seconds ticked away like a slow, merciless hammer. The pressure felt unbearable. He slammed another bone dragon into the ground, but it was no use. The bones reformed faster than he could destroy them. Sweat dripped from his brow, mixing with the blood that flowed from countless wounds. His massive body heaved, chest rising and falling as exhaustion threatened to consume him. Each hit seemed weaker than the last. CRUNCH! Another dragon''s tail slammed into his side, sending Volk skidding across the bone-laden ground. He barely managed to dig his claws into the dirt to stop himself. His radioactive energy flared, creating a shimmering, toxic haze around him. The dragons snapped at him, unfazed by the radiation that would normally wither anything living. "VOLK SMASH! VOLK CRUSH!" he bellowed, voice strained with the effort of continuing the fight. He hurled his fist toward the nearest dragon. BOOM! Its skull shattered, bone fragments scattering across the field. But before he could savor the victory, they pulled together again, swirling into a mass that took shape before his eyes. This wasn''t working. The bone dragons couldn''t die. They kept rising from the grave like they were a part of the very air around him. 3 minutes remaining. Volk felt his breath hitch. His mind was racing now, the urgency tightening its grip on his chest. The dragons seemed endless, like an unstoppable wave of death. No matter how hard he fought, they just kept coming, relentless and indifferent to his strength. ROOOAAAR! A bone dragon screeched above him, diving in with terrifying speed. Volk raised both hands and caught the beast''s jaws just before they snapped shut on his head. Its weight crushed down on him, but he held firm, roaring in defiance. "NOT ENOUGH! YOU NOT STRONG ENOUGH!" With a desperate burst of energy, Volk twisted his body and hurled the dragon aside, its skeletal frame smashing into the ground. But again, the bones began to swirl, pulling themselves together as though nothing had happened. The bones shimmered with a pale, otherworldly light, almost mocking him. Volk''s breathing was labored now, his muscles screaming for relief. The radioactive glow around him dimmed slightly as his energy reserves began to drain. He couldn''t sustain this much longer. He needed to finish it. WHAM! Another dragon blindsided him, sending him crashing into a pile of bones. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk staggered to his feet, disoriented and furious. He turned his gaze upward and saw the three suns still hanging ominously in the sky. This wasn''t his world. He was still trapped inside the domain of that accursed human. 2 minutes. Panic twisted his insides. There wasn''t enough time. The dragons were multiplying. Everywhere he looked, more and more of them were emerging from the ground, forming from the scattered bones of the battlefield. Their glowing eyes locked on him, and their screeches filled the air with a deafening cacophony. "WHERE YOU?! WHERE HUMAN?!" Volk''s voice cracked with desperation as he swung wildly, smashing several dragons into dust. But the endless tide continued. Bones rattled and clinked, forming new shapes around him, boxing him in. Every strike he landed only made the problem worse. He had to think. He had to find the vessel of the Death Monarch¡ªthe human that controlled all of this madness. But where? The ground trembled beneath his feet as another bone dragon rose, even larger than the ones before. Its massive frame towered over Volk, casting a long shadow that stretched across the battlefield. Its jaws opened wide, and it roared with such force that Volk stumbled back. THUD! The force of the roar hit Volk like a shockwave. He growled in frustration, bracing himself as he readied for another attack. 1 minute, 50 seconds. "VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ NOT FAIL!" His roar echoed across the domain, but for the first time, there was a note of doubt in his voice. He charged forward, swinging his fists wildly. He smashed through one dragon, then another, bones crunching beneath his blows. But they just kept coming. More and more. The clock was ticking. He didn''t have much time. Chapter 144 - 144: NUCLEAR ECHO BOMB!!! Volk, hulking in his radioactive Ogre-like form, snarled in frustration. His glowing eyes flickered, and his body trembled with rage. The bone dragons circled him like vultures, their rattling jaws clacking ominously. The ground beneath his feet shook, mirroring the seething fury building inside him. He clenched his fists, the radioactive energy crackling around his massive body like a storm. "VOLK¡­ SMASH! VOLK¡­ DESTROY!" His voice boomed across the battlefield, reverberating through the bone-strewn landscape. He swung his fists wildly, smashing one dragon after another, but it was futile. The dragons kept rising, bones clicking and clattering, as if mocking him. Every blow he landed only brought more of them to life. It felt endless, and for the first time, Volk felt something foreign creeping into his chest¡ªdesperation. CRUNCH! Another dragon slammed into him, sending him flying backward. Volk crashed into the ground, his body leaving a deep crater. He groaned, pushing himself up with difficulty. His muscles screamed, but the anger coursing through him kept him moving. His breathing was ragged, his vision blurred. He couldn''t let this happen. Not now. Not when he was so close. "VOLK... ANGRY! VOLK¡­ KILL THEM ALL!" His bellow shook the air, the radioactive glow around him intensifying. He leaped into the sky, soaring high above the battlefield. The ground became a blur below him, and for a moment, he could see the entire domain stretched out beneath him¡ªan endless sea of bones and dragons. It felt like the world itself was crumbling under his feet. 10 seconds remaining. Suddenly, a notification blinked into existence in his vision. Ding! | Would you like to use Nuclear Devastation Strike? | Available Nuclear Strike: Earth Strike, Level 10. | Volk''s brow furrowed as he soared through the air, his massive body casting a shadow over the battlefield. His heart raced as he read the message. Nuclear Devastation Strike? His thoughts were jumbled, but another message appeared. | The strike depends on the host''s desire. | Please decide what the host truly wants before striking. | "WHAT? NOT CREATED YET?" Volk growled, "NO SKILL FOR VOLK?" he added with his voice cracking with disbelief. "WHAT VOLK WANT?" He didn''t have time for this. The dragons were closing in, the bones below shifting like an ocean of death. His mind raced, the seconds ticking away as he grappled with the system''s prompt. 9 seconds. Volk''s hands trembled. His anger surged, boiling over into uncontrollable rage. What kind of system was this? Asking him what he wanted? He wanted to kill. He wanted to crush. He wanted them all to be obliterated! His radioactive aura flared, burning brighter and hotter with every second. "VOLK¡­ SMASH! VOLK DESTROY ALL!" He screamed, veins bulging in his neck as he slammed his fists into his own chest. But still, the system waited. The countdown continued. 8 seconds. Volk''s mind spiraled. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. What did he want? What did Volk need? He couldn''t think straight. The dragons were swarming below, their jaws snapping, their eyes glowing with the promise of death. His muscles tensed, his heart pounded. He was running out of time. "VOLK¡­ NEED¡­ WHAT?" His voice cracked, almost pleading. His radioactive form shimmered with unstable energy, the pressure mounting inside him like a ticking bomb. His rage was consuming him, blinding him to everything except the urge to destroy. 7 seconds. Volk clenched his fists tighter. "VOLK¡­ DON''T KNOW!" His voice boomed across the sky, but the system didn''t care. It demanded an answer. What did he want? What did he need? The question repeated in his mind, over and over, driving him mad with frustration. 6 seconds. "WHAT DOES VOLK NEED?!" He screamed again, smashing his fists into the air as if he could punch the question away. But it lingered, gnawing at his mind like a parasite. His breathing became erratic, the radioactive energy crackling and sparking around him. He was on the verge of losing control. 5 seconds. The countdown kept ticking. Time was slipping through his fingers like sand, and he couldn''t stop it. The dragons below roared, their numbers multiplying with each passing moment. Volk''s vision blurred with rage, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would explode. "VOLK NEED¡­ SOMETHING! VOLK NEED DESTRUCTION!" His voice was frantic now, desperation mixing with fury. He couldn''t think. He couldn''t focus. All he could feel was the overwhelming need to annihilate everything in his path. 4 seconds. The pressure mounted. His thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind. What did he need? What did he want? The dragons swarmed below, and the three suns in the sky burned down on him like eyes watching his every move. He felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of the decision. "VOLK WANT TO SMASH!" 3 seconds. Volk''s body trembled as his radioactive aura flared uncontrollably. His fists clenched tighter, his muscles bulging with strain. He was losing it. He had to decide now. The dragons were waiting. The countdown was relentless. "VOLK... WANT... TO... KILL!" 2 seconds. Volk''s eyes burned with fury. He threw his head back and roared at the sky, his voice shaking the very air around him. He was out of time. His mind raced, every thought consumed by the need for destruction. There was no more thinking. No more hesitation. "VOLK WANT TO SMASH THEM ALL!!!" His scream tore through the battlefield as if the sheer force of his rage could tear the world apart. Suddenly, the system dinged again. | The host has created Nuclear ECHO Bomb. | Volk''s eyes widened in shock. His breath caught in his throat as the realization hit him. The attack was his. His desire for total destruction had manifested into a weapon of untold power. The bones around him trembled, and the air grew thick with tension as the bomb began to form, radiating an ominous energy that pulsed with Volk''s fury. And in that moment, he knew-he had the power to obliterate everything. Volk''s radioactive body trembled with a maddening energy, his massive form glowing brighter than ever before. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of impending destruction as the notification appeared in front of him. | Nuclear ECHO Bomb: | A strike that mirrors the host''s innermost desire to obliterate. | Upon contact, the strike causes a cascading chain of nuclear explosions, vaporizing all in its path. | The higher the number of the enemy in the area of effect, the stronger the damage dealt. | He didn''t need to think. He didn''t hesitate for a second. The sheer weight of his desire to smash, crush, and obliterate surged through his arms like a blood pumping ultraviolet light. His fist, clenched tight, began to glow with an unnatural, pulsating light. The energy built rapidly, making the air around him thick and oppressive. "VOLK¡­ DESTROY!!" With a furious roar, Volk rocketed downward, the sheer force of his movement splitting the sky as if he were a bullet shot from the heavens. His hulking body cut through the atmosphere, streaking like a comet toward the ground. His target¡ªthose cursed Draconic bones. As Volk descended, the power in his fist swelled, the glowing light expanding until it enveloped his entire arm. It was no longer just his hand¡ªit was an extension of his rage, a weapon of annihilation. The bones beneath him seemed to sense the impending doom, rattling and shifting as if trying to escape their fate. The world seemed to slow. Each second felt like an eternity as Volk fell from the sky, his body plummeting toward the ground like a meteor. The air around him rippled with energy, growing hotter and heavier with every passing moment. The sky itself seemed to darken, as if it was recoiling from the sheer destructive force being unleashed. THRUMMMM! The sound began¡ªa low, ominous hum that vibrated through the battlefield, rattling the bones and shaking the very ground. It was the precursor of the coming disaster. Volk''s body blurred with speed, his monstrous form gaining momentum as he closed in on the Draconic bones. BOOOOM! Impact. Volk''s fist smashed into the earth, and for a fraction of a second, there was silence. Time stood still. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the inevitable. The light from Volk''s fist surged, swelling and expanding, as the ground below buckled under the force. Then, everything exploded. BOOOOOOOM!! A shockwave of unimaginable force erupted from Volk''s fist, a blinding white light that swallowed the battlefield. It was as if the very air had ignited, turning into a blazing inferno of nuclear fire. The ground split open, massive cracks racing outward like spiderwebs as the sheer pressure of the explosion rippled through the earth. The sound was deafening, a violent roar that shattered the bones, crumbled the mountains, and sent shockwaves for miles. The blast expanded, a rolling mushroom cloud of destruction, tearing through everything in its path. The Draconic bones that had once seemed invincible were vaporized, disintegrating into nothing in the face of the overwhelming power. KA-BOOOOOM! The explosion''s impact was cataclysmic. The ground itself seemed to liquefy under the force, the heat so intense that it melted the surrounding terrain. The mushroom cloud surged into the sky, rising higher and higher, a towering column of nuclear fire that blotted out the sun. The pressure from the explosion flattened everything in its radius, turning the battlefield into a wasteland of ash and molten earth. CRACK! WHOOOOM! The shockwave continued to spread, tearing through the air, the ground, the very fabric of the dimension. Trees were uprooted, rocks pulverized, and any remnants of the Draconic creatures were obliterated beyond recognition. The atmosphere itself seemed to warp, bending and twisting as the nuclear energy rippled outward. And at the center of it all was Volk. He stood amidst the chaos, his body still glowing with the residual energy of the Nuclear ECHO Bomb. His chest heaved with exertion, but a grin spread across his monstrous face. His eyes burned with a wild, primal satisfaction. He had done it. He had unleashed the full extent of his power. "VOLK¡­ SMASHED! VOLK¡­ DESTROYED!!" His voice roared through the dissipating chaos, a victorious bellow that echoed across the battlefield. He raised his fists to the sky, roaring louder and louder, his voice filled with triumph and raw, unbridled rage. He had conquered. He had obliterated. "VOLK¡­ IS¡­ UNSTOPPABLE!!" The battlefield lay in ruins, the Draconic bones that had once swarmed him now reduced to nothing but dust and ash. The power of the Nuclear ECHO Bomb had turned the once fearsome bone dragons into mere fragments, their presence erased from existence. Volk''s chest swelled with pride, his massive form still radiating the remnants of nuclear energy. He continued to roar, his voice shaking the very ground beneath him. His victory was absolute. Nothing could stand in his way now. "VOOOOOLK FEEEELS GOOOOD!" His laughter boomed across the wasteland, echoing through the devastation he had wrought. He had smashed. He had destroyed everything. He was victorious. The bone dragons were no more. The Draconic Domain had crumbled before his might. As the last of the nuclear energy dissipated, Volk stood tall, his hulking form outlined against the backdrop of the smoldering battlefield. His mission had been completed. The destruction was total. And now, all that remained was the thrill of his conquest. "VOLK¡­ IS¡­ THE STRONGEST OF THEM ALL!" With one final, earth-shaking roar, Volk basked in the aftermath of his own devastation, the triumphant beast who had brought an end to the Draconic nightmare. Chapter 145 - 145: Death of Song Outside the Death Dragon Domain where Volk was in, the city street turned into a battlefield, becoming an inferno of chaos and carnage. The clash of metal on metal echoed across the plains, accompanied by the thundering roars of the Ogres and the desperate cries of the human rankers. The reinforcements had arrived in droves, their numbers impressive, but even their vast numbers were no match for the towering behemoths they now faced. These weren''t mere Orcs anymore. They had evolved¡ªgrown massive, mutated into Ogres, their hulking forms towering over the battlefield, their muscles bulging with unnatural strength. BOOOOOM! An Ogre smashed its massive fist into the earth, sending shockwaves that knocked a group of rankers off their feet. The ground trembled beneath its weight as it charged forward, its yellow eyes gleaming with rage and bloodlust. The rankers scrambled to regroup, their weapons trembling in their hands as they tried to contain the overwhelming force. The Ogres'' skin was thick and nearly impenetrable, their roars deafening, their fists like battering rams. "FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" one of the ranker captains shouted, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. But there was no retreat. The Ogres pressed forward, their footfalls shaking the earth. With each step, they crushed the remnants of the human defenses beneath their feet. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke, sweat, blood and panic. One Ogre lifted a human ranker by the waist, squeezing the man''s body like a ragdoll. The ranker screamed in agony before the Ogre slammed him into the ground with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across the battlefield as the Ogre let out a thunderous roar. "RAAAAAAAAARGH!" The Ogres were unstoppable, a force of nature, tearing through the human ranks like paper. Their roars were loud and primal, vibrating through the air with a force that shook the very bones of the rankers who faced them. Human soldiers fired rounds of bullets, but the bullets merely ricocheted off the Ogres'' thick skin. Magical spells were cast, lightning bolts arcing through the air, but the Ogres swatted them aside like gnats. "AAAAAAARGHHH!" The screams of dying men filled the battlefield as the Ogres rampaged, smashing through formations, their fists leaving craters in the ground. The humans were shouting orders, casting spells, throwing grenades, but it all seemed hopeless in the face of such raw power. Limbs flew through the air, blood soaked the earth, and the Ogres continued their relentless assault, each one more savage than the last. Meanwhile, back inside the domain, amidst the suffocating silence, a tiny crack appeared in the Draconic Graveyard. The silence was pierced by the sound of bones scraping against stone as a small skeleton emerged from the fissure. He was an odd sight¡ªa tiny, almost cute, figure compared to the massive chaos outside. His tiny bony feet clattered against the ground as he cautiously stepped out of the crack, his hollow eye sockets darting left and right in sheer terror. He trembled, shaking so violently that his bones rattled together. He was terrified. "Master... please..." he whispered, his voice trembling. He didn''t belong in this chaos. His small frame was fragile compared to the Ogres rampaging outside, and the battle raging around him was enough to make his bones shiver. But he had a mission. He had to save his master. As soon as he landed, he saw what was left of Sung Woo-Ji, and his heart¡ªif he had one¡ªsank. There, lying in a heap of blood and dust, was the familiar figure of the teenage ranker. Sung Woo-Ji''s appearance was a far cry from what it had been before the battle. His once sharp eyes were now dull, his skin pale, his clothes shredded and soaked with blood. His body lay lifeless on the ground, motionless, as though all life had left him. His messy hair clung to his sweat-drenched forehead, and his chest did not rise or fall. He was dead. The skeleton gulped, or at least made the sound of it, despite lacking a throat. His small bony hands trembled as he tried to grasp Woo-Ji''s arm, struggling to drag the lifeless body behind him. "Master¡­ please¡­ I''ll take you to another Death Orb... you have to keep it... we can''t let you die here!" he cried, his voice quivering with fear. His tiny frame struggled to drag Sung Woo-Ji''s body, which seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. The skeleton glanced up, watching the battle rage around him. The Ogres¡ªnow far more enormous than before¡ªwere decimating everything in their path. Bullets flew past the skeleton''s head, the sounds of gunfire and explosions reverberating in the air. Magic attacks lit up the sky, but the Ogres were undeterred, their rampage continuing unabated. "Master, hang on!" the skeleton squeaked, yanking with all his might as he pulled Woo-Ji''s limp body behind him. "Just a few more minutes! Just a few more minutes¡­" S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But the minutes were slipping away. The skeleton could see the humans being crushed by the rampaging Ogres. He dodged out of the way as one of the monsters stomped down, barely missing him by inches. Sweat¡ªor whatever the skeleton equivalent was¡ªdripped from his skull as he continued dragging Woo-Ji''s body through the battlefield. "Ten minutes¡­ we only have ten minutes left!" the skeleton gasped, his voice a shaky whisper. He glanced at the horizon, where the chaos seemed never-ending. It felt hopeless. Every step forward felt like he was walking through mud. His tiny legs struggled under the weight of Woo-Ji''s body, and the Ogres were everywhere. The battle showed no signs of slowing down. Nine minutes¡­ eight minutes¡­ The time ticked down, and with each passing minute, the skeleton''s panic grew. He couldn''t let Woo-Ji die here. Not now. Not after everything they had been through. "Come on! Please!" the skeleton pleaded, yanking Woo-Ji''s arm, his bones rattling as he struggled. The body was so heavy now, every inch of progress felt like moving a mountain. The skeleton''s mind raced, his fear growing as time slipped away. Six minutes¡­ five minutes¡­ "Master¡­!" the skeleton cried out, his voice breaking. He could hear the heavy footfalls of an Ogre approaching. The massive creature lumbered toward him, its eyes locked on the tiny skeleton. The skeleton squeaked in fear, dragging Woo-Ji faster, dodging behind a boulder just as the Ogre''s fist came crashing down, sending debris flying. "Four minutes¡­" The skeleton''s limbs were trembling, his bony hands barely holding onto Woo-Ji''s arm. He was out of time. His master was dying, the battlefield was falling apart, and the Ogres were closing in. There were only three minutes left. He could hear the countdown in his head, ticking down like a death sentence. Two minutes¡­ The skeleton gritted his teeth-or at least the skeletal equivalent-and pulled harder, his mind racing. It felt hopeless, every second was slipping through his fingers. Woo-Ji''s body was lifeless, cold, and still, and no matter how hard he pulled, it seemed like there wasn''t enough time left to save him. Finally, as the last minute approached, the skeleton let out a desperate cry, his voice echoing through the chaos around them. "Master, please wake up!" Chapter 146 - 146: Bong Me-Eon The battlefield was a blur of destruction and terror as the little skeleton pulled with all his might, trying to drag Sung Woo-Ji''s limp body through the chaos. His bony arms trembled from the effort, and his hollow sockets were filled with fear. Each passing second felt like an eternity as the Ogres rampaged all around, their thunderous footsteps shaking the earth. Just as the skeleton began to lose hope, a shadow descended from the sky, landing gracefully before him with an impact that sent dust swirling in every direction. The figure was tall and imposing, her long black hair flowing behind her like a midnight curtain. She was dressed in sleek battle gear, her eyes sharp and calculating. She surveyed the scene with a calm that seemed out of place amidst the chaos. Her presence, however, commanded respect and fear from both allies and enemies alike. This was no ordinary ranker¡ªthis was Bong Me-Eon, the Class S Ranker, the only one capable of holding her own in the face of such overwhelming odds, easily like facing a little breeze. The little skeleton''s jaw dropped. "P-P-P-President Bong Me-Eon!" he stammered, his voice quivering with both awe and relief. He immediately began jumping up and down in excitement, his tiny bones rattling as he did so. "President Bong Me-Eon! President Bong Me-Eon! You''re here!" Bong Me-Eon looked down at the skeleton, her brows furrowing slightly as she took in the scene. "Even my necromancer disciple was turned into this," she muttered, her voice laced with a mix of concern and frustration. "This is really a disaster. And I''m the only Class S Ranker here who can deal with some of these creatures, but not all of them¡­" The skeleton continued to hop up and down in excitement. "Master! Master! Please, you have to save him!" he cried, pointing to the lifeless body of Sung Woo-Ji, who lay at her feet. "He''s still alive! You have to save Master Woo-Ji!" Bong Me-Eon''s sharp gaze shifted to the limp form of Sung Woo-Ji. Her expression softened just slightly, her lips forming a thin line. She knelt down beside him, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear as she examined his condition. "Alright," she said calmly. "But tell me, what exactly do I need to do?" The skeleton frantically nodded, his small hands gesturing wildly as he tried to explain. "He buried something! A Death Ball! Full of spirits! It''s the only thing that can save him!" His voice cracked with desperation. "Master tried to hide it just in case! But I''m not sure exactly where¡­ it''s in one of the buildings nearby!" Bong Me-Eon arched a brow, her lips twitching with mild amusement. "A Death Ball?" she repeated. "And you expect me to go digging around blindly for it?" The skeleton nearly burst into tears as he pleaded. "Please! Please, Master Bong Me-Eon! I don''t know where exactly, but we have to find it! It''s the only way to save him!" Bong Me-Eon sighed, tapping her chin thoughtfully for a moment. Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, she reached into her pouch and pulled out a dark orb, swirling with ethereal energy. The moment it appeared, the little skeleton froze, his hollow eyes wide with shock. "This?" Bong Me-Eon asked, holding the Death Ball in her hand. "Is this what you''re talking about?" The skeleton was stunned into silence, his jaw clattering in disbelief. He stared at the orb for several long moments before suddenly snapping back to life, his excitement returning tenfold. "YES! YES! MASTER OF MY MASTER! YES!" He jumped around with renewed energy, hopping in circles as he pointed frantically at the orb. "That''s it! That''s the Death Ball! Please, please save him!" Bong Me-Eon''s lips curved into a faint smile as she turned her attention back to Sung Woo-Ji. Without hesitation, she pressed the Death Ball against his chest, her hand glowing with a faint, eerie light. The orb began to pulse, its energy seeping into his body, and the air around them grew thick with a strange, otherworldly power. The phenomenon that followed was unlike anything the skeleton had ever seen. The sky seemed to darken, as if the sun itself had been swallowed by a shadow. The very air around them trembled, rippling with dark energy that made the hairs on the back of Bong Me-Eon''s neck stand on end. The ground beneath them began to crack, fissures spreading outward like the roots of a tree, as the Death Ball''s power surged through Sung Woo-Ji''s lifeless form. A low hum filled the air, growing louder and more intense with each passing second. The energy from the Death Ball was no longer just contained within it¡ªit was spreading, filling the area with a chilling, oppressive presence. The wind howled, carrying with it the faint whispers of spirits long forgotten. Shadows twisted and writhed, swirling around them like a dark storm. Suddenly, Woo-Ji''s body jerked, his chest rising and falling as if some unseen force was pulling him back to life. His fingers twitched, his limbs shaking as if he was struggling against invisible chains. His face contorted with pain, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before falling shut again. Bong Me-Eon''s expression remained calm, though there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Stay with me, Woo-Ji," she murmured, pressing the orb harder against his chest. The energy continued to flow, and Woo-Ji''s body responded in kind. His breathing became more regular, though shallow, and a faint glow began to spread across his skin. The little skeleton was hopping frantically beside them, watching the scene with wide-eyed amazement. "Master! Master''s coming back! He''s coming back!" he cried, his voice a mixture of joy and relief. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sung Woo-Ji let out a weak cough. His eyes opened slowly, glassy and unfocused, but alive. Bong Me-Eon let out a quiet sigh of relief, pulling the Death Ball away and stowing it back in her pouch. "Woo-Ji," she said softly, her voice gentle but firm. "Can you hear me?" sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Sung Woo-Ji blinked, his gaze drifting upward to meet hers. He was pale, his body still weak from the ordeal, but his eyes held a flicker of recognition. He tried to speak, but his voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Master¡­" he muttered weakly, his hand trembling as he pointed toward the Draconic Domain Graveyard in the distance. "Please¡­ don''t let the thing out." Bong Me-Eon frowned, following his gaze to the towering, bone-chilling graveyard. "Why?" she asked, her voice sharp with concern. "What''s inside there?" But Woo-Ji didn''t answer. His body went limp, and he lost consciousness once again, leaving Bong Me-Eon with more questions than answers. She glanced back at the graveyard, her brows furrowed in thought, before turning her attention to the little skeleton, who was still bouncing with excitement. "We''ll figure it out," she said quietly, her eyes dark with determination. "But first, we need to get him to safety." The little skeleton nodded frantically, his bony hands clasped together in gratitude. "Thank you, President Bong Me-Eon! Thank you! Thank you!" With a final glance at the ominous graveyard in the distance, Bong Me-Eon lifted Sung Woo-Ji''s limp body into her arms. The battle still raged around them, but she was calm, her mind already working through the next steps. This was only the beginning. Chapter 147 - 147: Domain Destruction Volk, still in his massive radioactive Ogre-like form, stood in the center of the chaotic Draconic Graveyard domain, pounding his chest with primal fury. His deep, guttural roar echoed through the barren wasteland. "VOLK IS THE STRONGEST!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the very earth beneath his feet. His eyes were wild, his massive fists clenched tightly as he surveyed the destruction he had caused. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Suddenly, his system chimed. Ding! | Mission Completed. | For a brief moment, Volk''s rampage halted. He squinted at the notification hovering before him, his mind struggling to comprehend the meaning of the words. Not all the horde members would perish. Volk frowned, his sharp teeth grinding against one another as his brow furrowed in confusion. "Horde¡­ safe?" he growled under his breath, feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and bewilderment. But then, another line appeared. | Please keep yourself alive. | Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Survive?" he muttered, his deep, monstrous voice vibrating through the air. "Does that mean¡­ Volk in danger?" The idea that anything could pose a threat to him, the mightiest of all, was laughable. . He threw his head back and roared with laughter, his booming voice resonating like a thunderstorm. "VOLK NOT IN DANGER! VOLK STRONGEST!" But something gnawed at the back of his mind. His instincts, honed through countless battles and conquests, whispered that the system''s warning wasn''t meaningless. The Draconic Graveyard domain, though twisted and barren, still stood. The ground beneath him hadn''t crumbled completely, and the skies above were still veiled in the eerie, deathly energy. The Bone Dragons, after so many fierce battles, had finally stopped reforming. Their bones lay scattered across the battlefield, no longer assembling into monstrous forms. But despite that, the domain wasn''t collapsing. Volk''s massive, hulking form remained trapped within it. "Why?" he growled, his massive hands gripping the air as though he could strangle the answer from the very atmosphere. "Why is Draconic Graveyard still here?" Then, it clicked. His system had told him to survive. Could this domain¡­ explode? Volk''s eyes widened, glowing brighter with the sudden realization. The graveyard hadn''t been fully destroyed yet, and if it was meant to detonate, he could be trapped inside when it did. "NO!" Volk roared, his rage boiling over again. "VOLK WON''T DIE HERE! VOLK SMASH ALL!" Without wasting a second, his massive legs coiled like springs, and with a mighty grunt, he leapt into the air, soaring high above the ground. His enormous body shot upward like a missile, his muscles straining as he climbed higher and higher into the darkened sky. The wind howled around him as his radioactive aura flared brighter than ever before, illuminating the dead, barren landscape below. "IF IT''S GONNA EXPLODE, THEN VOLK WILL EXPLODE IT FIRST!" he screamed, his voice reverberating through the heavens. With every ounce of his strength, Volk twisted in mid-air and slammed his fist down toward the ground. The moment his fist made contact, the world shook. BOOOOM! The force of his impact sent shockwaves rippling through the domain, splitting the ground open like a fractured mirror. The earth groaned beneath his power as massive chunks of land were thrown into the air, crumbling into dust. CRACK! BOOM! Volk''s assault tore at the heart of the Draconic Graveyard, sending shockwaves through the entire dimension. But he wasn''t finished. As he slammed into the ground, he roared again, driving his fists deeper and deeper into the earth, each blow reverberating like the hammering of the gods. The very air seemed to buckle under his raw, destructive power. The cracks that ran through the ground widened, spreading like a spider''s web, and the atmosphere around him grew hotter and more oppressive. Outside the Death Dragon Dome, the chaos continued. In a random corner of the city, the human rankers and Orc horde that had turned into Ogres were locked in a brutal battle. The Ogres, far larger and stronger than before, rampaged across the battlefield, their massive fists crushing anything in their path. They were loud, their roars deafening as they tore through the human forces like wild animals. Blood splattered across the battlefield as the Ogres swung their clubs and fists, smashing human rankers into the ground with terrifying force. "AAAARRRGH!!" a human ranker screamed as he was thrown through the air, his body crashing against a crumbling building. Another ranker, wielding a flaming sword, charged at an Ogre, only to be grabbed mid-swing and crushed in the beast''s hand like a ragdoll. The Ogres roared, their deep, guttural voices echoing across the battlefield as they rampaged through the ranks of the human forces. "SMASH! KILL! DESTROY!" they chanted, their voices shaking the very air. The human rankers fought back with everything they had, unleashing powerful magic and advanced weaponry. Explosions of fire, lightning, and ice lit up the battlefield as the rankers tried to hold their ground. But for every Ogre they managed to take down, two more seemed to take its place. The Ogres were relentless, their monstrous strength overwhelming the human forces. Amidst this chaos, a strange phenomenon began to occur. Above the city, a massive circular object suddenly appeared in the sky. It hovered there, high above the battlefield, casting a shadow over the entire city. At first, it seemed harmless¡ªlike a marble suspended in mid-air. But then, the ground began to tremble. The human rankers and the Orc horde alike stopped in their tracks, their gazes lifting toward the sky in horror. The marble-like object trembled, and with each tremor, the air around it grew heavier, more oppressive. The ground beneath their feet shook violently, the tremors growing stronger with each passing second. BOOOM! The sound was deafening. The circular object in the sky began to crack, faint lines of light spreading across its surface like lightning. Each crack was accompanied by a terrifying rumble, like the world itself was splitting apart. The rankers and Ogres watched in horror as the cracks grew larger and more pronounced, the marble-like object threatening to shatter at any moment. CRACK! Another tremor rocked the city, sending buildings toppling and the ground splitting open. The sound of cracking stone and the groaning of metal filled the air as the city itself seemed to be on the verge of collapse. The massive object above them trembled again, and this time, the cracks spread even faster, racing across its surface like wildfire. The Ogres, once so full of rage and power, stopped their rampage, staring up at the sky in confusion and fear. Even their primal instincts told them something was wrong. The human rankers, battered and bruised, looked up with wide eyes, their faces pale with terror. "What¡­ what is that?" one of the rankers whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rumbling earth. "I don''t know," another ranker replied, her voice trembling with fear. "But whatever it is¡­ it''s not good." BOOOOM! The marble-like object trembled again, this time with even more force. The cracks widened, and with each tremor, the sound grew louder, more horrifying. It was as if the very fabric of reality was being torn apart. Everyone on the battlefield¡ªhuman rankers, Ogres, and even the monsters¡ªstood frozen, their eyes glued to the sky as the object continued to crack and tremble. The tension in the air was palpable, and the fear in their hearts was overwhelming. And then, with a deafening CRACK, the object finally shattered. Chapter 148 - 148: Bong Me-Eons entrance The moment the Draconic Graveyard domain shattered, chaos erupted across the battlefield. A deafening roar split the air as the fabric of the dimension tore apart, sending shockwaves that rippled through the entire city. BOOM! The sky itself seemed to scream as fragments of the broken domain plummeted toward the earth, massive chunks of dark energy raining down like meteorites. Each impact shook the ground violently, splitting open the streets, leveling buildings, and sending clouds of debris billowing into the air. The battlefield was transformed into a hellscape. The first wave of destruction was felt by both Ogres and humans alike. CRASH! A massive piece of the shattered domain smashed into a towering skyscraper, reducing it to rubble in an instant. The shockwave from the impact sent nearby rankers flying, their bodies tumbling through the air like ragdolls. Screams filled the air as the earth beneath their feet began to crack and collapse. "RUN!" a human ranker shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of destruction. But there was no escaping it. The ground split open, swallowing streets, buildings, and entire squads of rankers whole. Massive fissures crisscrossed the city, consuming everything in their path. The earth trembled violently as chunks of debris rained down from the sky, crushing anyone unfortunate enough to be caught underneath. THUD! An enormous slab of rock slammed into the ground, flattening a group of rankers who had been attempting to flee. The Ogres, larger and stronger than before, were thrown off balance by the sheer force of the collapse. Some were crushed beneath the falling debris, their massive bodies pinned under the weight of the collapsing city. Others, though injured, managed to survive, their monstrous strength allowing them to withstand the brunt of the catastrophe. Even as the earth crumbled beneath them, they roared in defiance, their hulking forms weathering the destruction with brutal resilience. "RROOOAAARR!" one Ogre bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos as he slammed his fist into the ground, sending shockwaves that shook the nearby rubble. Despite being battered and bloodied, the Ogres were relentless. Their thick, armored skin protected them from the worst of the devastation, allowing them to remain standing while the human rankers were decimated. For the humans, however, it was a massacre. Rankers scrambled to escape the falling debris, their voices choked with terror as they realized there was nowhere to run. BOOM! Another massive chunk of the domain crashed into the heart of the city, sending waves of dust and debris sweeping across the battlefield. Rankers who had been fighting valiantly moments ago were now reduced to frantic, panicked figures, desperately trying to find cover as the world crumbled around them. "HELP! HELP ME!" a ranker screamed, his arm trapped beneath a slab of concrete. His voice was lost in the deafening roar of destruction as another chunk of debris fell, silencing him forever. Despite the overwhelming destruction, a few humans managed to survive. Injured and bloodied, they crawled from the wreckage, their bodies battered and bruised. But compared to the Ogres, their numbers were pitifully few. The Ogres, though injured, were still standing, their roars echoing through the battlefield as they surveyed the devastation with savage glee. The humans, on the other hand, were at a massive disadvantage. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their ranks had been decimated by the collapse, and those who had survived were too wounded to continue fighting. The battlefield, once a place of intense conflict, was now a wasteland of rubble and destruction, with only a handful of humans left alive to face the might of the Ogres. Bong Me-Eon stood on a distant rooftop, watching the devastation unfold. Her sharp eyes took in the scene with grim determination. The city was in ruins, and the human rankers were on the verge of total annihilation. If something wasn''t done, the Ogres would wipe them out completely. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation. "If I let this continue, the humans will be annihilated," she muttered to herself. "I can''t allow that." With a deep breath, Bong Me-Eon steeled herself. She knew what needed to be done. She had faced magical monsters before, and though the Ogres had grown stronger, she had a way to deal with them. A method that would even the playing field and give the humans a fighting chance. "I have a way to deal with power-boosted magical monsters," she said, her voice calm but filled with a steely resolve. "And it''s going to be easy." As the Ogres began to celebrate, their deep roars shaking the battlefield, Bong Me-Eon raised her hand, summoning her magic. In an instant, the ground beneath the Ogres began to tremble. Several hundred mushrooms sprouted from the earth, their grotesque forms pulsing with an unnatural, eerie light. The Ogres, still drunk on their victory, didn''t notice at first. But soon, a strange smell filled the air¡ªa decaying, rotten stench that made even the hulking monsters pause. One by one, the Ogres sniffed the air, their faces twisting in confusion. Something was wrong. Meanwhile, far away, Bong Me-Eon''s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. "Ephemeral Death Spore," she whispered, her eyes glowing with the power of her spell. The moment the words left her lips, the mushrooms exploded. BOOOOM! Clouds of thick, green spores filled the air, swirling around the battlefield like a deadly fog. The Ogres, caught off guard, inhaled the spores before they even realized what was happening. For a moment, nothing happened. The Ogres looked around, confused and wary. Then, one by one, their massive bodies began to convulse. Their skin turned a sickly green as the spores took hold, invading their lungs and bloodstream. CRACK! An Ogre''s arm twisted grotesquely as his muscles began to wither, his once-massive form shrinking under the effects of the deadly spores. "RRRAAAAAGH!" another Ogre roared in agony, his eyes bulging as the spores ravaged his insides. His body collapsed to the ground, writhing and twitching as the life drained out of him. The remaining Ogres, realizing too late what was happening, began to panic. They tried to flee, but the spores were everywhere. Each breath they took was filled with the deadly toxin, and soon, their massive forms began to crumble. Bong Me-Eon watched from her distant perch, her face expressionless as the spores did their work. "Easy," she muttered under her breath. The battlefield was now a place of eerie silence, the Ogres'' once-mighty roars reduced to pained groans as their bodies withered away under the power of Bong Me-Eon''s deadly spores. Chapter 149 - 149: Ephemeral Death Spore Volk tore through the remnants of the collapsed domain, his massive, radioactive form sending debris flying as he rummaged through the wreckage. In his mind, he imagined a grand scene¡ªa victory unlike any other. "Volk strongest!" he thought, envisioning his Horde, Orcs turned into Ogres, gathering around him. They would chant his name in guttural roars, celebrating his triumph. His imagination ran wild as he pictured the moment when he''d return to them, standing atop mountains of fallen enemies. Volk grinned wickedly to himself as he imagined the Horde¡ªthousands of them, hulking and mighty, rampaging through cities at his command. They would tear down walls, crush entire armies, and leave devastation in their wake. "VOLK LEADER!" He would roar, and his Horde would respond in kind, their booming voices echoing in unison as they stormed across the battlefield, destroying everything in sight. He could see it now¡ªhis followers ripping through ranker defenses, their thick, impenetrable hides deflecting bullets and spells as if they were mere pebbles. "RRAAAGHHH!" Volk would lead them, crashing through walls, swinging his massive fists and obliterating entire squads of human rankers. His Horde would crush everything in their path. The ground would shake with every step they took, and the world would tremble under the sheer power of Volk''s leadership. In his vision, the Horde would celebrate their victories with bloodthirsty cheers. "Volk! Volk! Volk!" they would chant. He would stand at the forefront, their undisputed leader, basking in the glory of their destruction. "We smash! We crush! We destroy!" Volk would declare, and the Horde would obey. Together, they would raze cities, level mountains, and strike fear into the hearts of every living creature. Volk could almost hear their roars of approval, see their bloodied faces, and feel the thrill of commanding such an unstoppable force. But as Volk climbed back to the surface, his excitement and pride swelling with each step, the image in his mind shattered like fragile glass. What he saw before him wasn''t the victorious Horde he had imagined. No, what he saw was nothing but a field of devastation¡ªand not the kind he had hoped for. The Ogres, his mighty Horde, lay strewn across the battlefield. They were scattered like broken toys, their massive bodies lifeless, their once fearsome roars replaced by silence. Some had already begun to revert back to their Orc forms, their hulking shapes shrinking and twisting into the smaller, weaker figures they once were. "WHAT... WHAT THIS?" Volk''s deep voice rumbled with confusion as he looked around, his glowing eyes scanning the battlefield. His Horde¡ªhis loyal warriors¡ªwere not breathing. They were not cheering. They were lying there, motionless. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest. "NO... NOOOO!" he growled, his massive fists clenching at his sides. "Volk''s Horde... supposed to live!" His anger began to boil as he watched the last few Ogres stumble and fall, their strength drained, their once-powerful forms crumpling to the ground. "WHY?!" His eyes caught movement. An Ogre still standing, though barely, was swaying on its feet. Before Volk could react, the Ogre staggered, and right in front of it, a mushroom erupted, releasing a cloud of green, deadly spores. The Ogre coughed, its massive body convulsing as it struggled to stay upright. Within moments, it grew drowsy, its eyes rolling back before it collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. Volk''s radioactive aura flared. "No... no! What is this?" He took a step forward, his massive foot cracking the earth beneath him. His glowing eyes flickered with fury as he scanned the battlefield for answers. His mind raced. What could be killing his Horde? The deathly spores continued to drift through the air, their sickly green mist swirling around the bodies of his fallen warriors. Then it hit him. The spores. It was these cursed mushrooms that were killing them! His body trembled with rage, his muscles bulging even more as he finally understood what was happening. But how? He had completed the mission. The system promised that his Horde wouldn''t perish! "System!" Volk roared, his voice shaking the ground beneath him. "Volk complete the mission! Why they die?" His hulking form stood in the midst of the carnage, looking for an answer from the unseen force that guided him. Suddenly, a familiar ding echoed in his ears. | System under maintenance. | The message was cold and indifferent. It offered no explanation, no reassurance, just those three words. Volk stood there, frozen in shock for a moment, staring at the notification as his Horde lay dead around him. The anger inside him built to a dangerous level, his radioactive form sparking with raw, untamed energy. "VOLK ANGRY!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the ground as his frustration turned into pure rage. His muscles bulged even further as the heat radiated off his body. His vision grew hazy, the edges of his sight blurring with a growing drowsiness. Volk shook his head, trying to stay focused, but the spores were getting to him too. He felt his limbs grow heavy, his mind growing sluggish. "No... no sleep... Volk must survive!" In desperation, Volk roared, and with a burst of his remaining energy, he leaped into the air like a missile, launching himself skyward with terrifying speed. WHOOSH! He shot through the clouds, a radioactive streak against the darkening sky. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His massive form blurred as he pushed higher and higher, his glowing body lighting up the horizon. ¡­ Meanwhile, Bong Me-Eon observed the battlefield below with a smile. The Ogres were falling, one by one, succumbing to her Ephemeral Death Spores. Some had already reverted to their Orc forms, smaller and weaker, as the magic drained out of them. "Fascinating," she mused, watching as their transformation unwound before her eyes. "I''ve never seen anything like this before¡ªan Orc turning into an Ogre. Such strong creatures... but they''re all the same. Berserkers and raging beasts fall easily when they''re unconscious." She glanced at her disciple, Song Woo-Ji, who lay recovering beside her. "I''ll have to teach you how to deal with these kinds of monsters, too," she muttered to herself, her mind already planning future lessons. But then, Bong Me-Eon''s eyes narrowed as she sensed something. A surge of powerful magic particles gathered in one spot, emanating from the battlefield. Her heart skipped a beat, and she whipped her head up, searching for the source. And there, high above the battlefield, she saw it. A figure¡ªa massive, glowing shape¡ªracing upward with the speed of a comet. "What...?" Bong Me-Eon''s breath caught in her throat as she realized what it was. Swoosh! The sound of Volk''s rapid ascent sliced through the air, growing louder with every passing second. Chapter 150 - 150: VOLK SAVE HORDE Bong Me-Eon''s eyes sharpened as she sensed the magical strength coming from the creature soaring through the sky. The sheer force of its presence sent chills down her spine. This wasn''t just another Ogre or Orc. No, this was something more dangerous. Something far beyond the monsters below, which, at best, could only reach the initial stages of Class A strength. This one, though, radiated an aura that signified it was at the very peak of Class A. Her brows knitted together as her mind raced. "Is that their leader?" she wondered. The realization that this creature could possibly orchestrate the entire battle sent waves of concern through her. She took a deep breath, and a surge of necromantic energy poured out from her, thick with the scent of death. It cloaked her in a dark aura that flickered like black fire, making the air around her feel heavier, colder. "No chances," she muttered under her breath. Suddenly, the ground near her feet cracked open, and from it emerged a series of coffins¡ªlong, black, and ancient. Their surfaces were carved with jagged, eerie symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own, glowing faintly in the dim light. The coffins themselves were immense, towering over her like sentinels of death. They were covered in swirling mist that coiled and drifted, obscuring the ground around them, as if the air itself feared their presence. The coffins'' surfaces were covered in bony, skeletal hands etched into the wood, as if trapped souls were clawing their way out, frozen in a perpetual struggle. Every few seconds, a faint groan would echo from within, as if the dead themselves whispered warnings of the darkness held inside. The edges of the coffins were lined with thick iron chains, their rusted links rattling eerily, hinting at the untold horrors within. "Come forth, my sentinels..." Bong Me-Eon whispered, her voice cold and commanding. The coffins stood there, ominous, their weight pressing down on the battlefield as if they could tear open the veil between life and death at any moment. They stood like dark monoliths, prepared to unleash devastation upon her command. ¡­ Meanwhile, far above the battlefield, Volk hung suspended in mid-air, his massive, radioactive form glowing with an ominous green hue. His breath came in heavy, growling huffs as he gazed down at the scene below. The battlefield was shrouded in a sickly mist, the deathly spores wafting through the air from the cursed mushrooms that had decimated his Horde. His Horde. Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed. "Volk''s Horde¡­ no cheer for Volk..." he muttered, his fists clenching at his sides. He hated this. He hated seeing them lying there, unmoving. They should be roaring his name, praising him, charging forward at his command. Instead, they were silent, fallen. The spore-filled mist stole their strength and left them helpless, no longer able to serve him, to revel in the violence they created together. The thought burned inside him, stoking the flames of his fury. "Volk HATE THIS!" he roared, his voice booming across the sky. His rage coursed through his body, swelling his muscles even further, making his hulking frame tremble with raw energy. He had to destroy the spores, eradicate the mist that had taken his Horde from him. Then, an idea formed in Volk''s mind, primal and simple, but powerful. His lips curled into a wicked grin as he raised his massive arms above his head. "Volk... clap." He spread his arms wide, stretching them out as far as they could go. Then, with a sharp, deliberate motion, he slammed them together in a powerful clap. WHAM! The force sent shockwaves rippling through the air, but it wasn''t enough. Not yet. "ARRRGHHH!" Volk groaned, his deep, guttural voice filled with anger as he clapped his hands again. WHAM! The air quivered beneath the intensity of the strike. The spores around him trembled but didn''t dissipate. Volk''s frustration grew as his roars became louder. "ARRRGHH! ARRGHH!" he groaned again, clapping harder, the sound of his palms slamming together growing louder with each strike. WHAM! WHAM! The claps echoed across the battlefield, each one sending stronger ripples through the air, shaking the ground below. Volk''s muscles bulged grotesquely with each clap, veins popping as his radioactive energy surged through his body. His sinews tightened, his massive biceps expanding with every ounce of power he poured into his next movement. His body glowed brighter, his skin crackling with radiation, as the intensity built with each passing moment. "ARRRGHHHHH!" He let out an even louder roar, the force of his voice alone causing the ground below to quake. His next clap shook the very sky itself. WHAM! WHAM! The claps were like thunder, reverberating across the battlefield with deafening power. Each clap grew more intense, the air itself seeming to ripple in fear of the force behind Volk''s fury. Finally, with a final, earth-shattering WHAM, Volk clapped his hands together with all the strength he had gathered. The impact sent a shockwave so powerful that the very clouds above parted, and the spore-filled mist below swirled violently, dissipating under the force of the blow. As Volk''s hands connected for that final clap, the muscles in his arms compressed with terrifying force, veins bulging like ropes as his entire body surged with energy. KABAM! The ground below erupted as Volk came crashing down, slamming both his massive palms into the earth with all his might. The impact was cataclysmic, sending out a devastating shockwave that tore through the battlefield. The air roared with a thunderous BOOM, and the cursed spores that had blanketed the battlefield were obliterated, scattered into nothingness. The oppressive mist was no more. Volk stood tall amidst the destruction, his chest heaving, his fists pressed deep into the earth, his radioactive aura still burning bright around him. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Below, the Ogres and Orcs stirred. One by one, they began to wake, groaning as they struggled to their feet. Their eyes flickered open, and slowly, they rose from the ground. Some of them blinked, confused, but soon, their roars returned¡ªquiet at first, but growing louder. They were alive. The Horde had survived. Volk stood tall, his fists still buried in the ground as he looked around at his revived Horde. "Volk... save Horde," he muttered, a deep satisfaction creeping into his voice. His Horde was back. They could cheer for him again. And cheer they did. The Ogres and Orcs let out deafening roars, their voices filling the air, returning to life, to strength. "VOLK! VOLK! VOLK! VOLK!" "VOLK! VOLK! VOLK! VOLK!" They were happy! They didn''t know what happened earlier, they were confused, but seeing the mushrooms, some few of them realized what it meant but most of them thought one thing. Volk save them! Chapter 151 - 151: HORDE THUNDER CLAP From atop the building, Bong Me-Eon watched the battlefield unfold like a twisted play, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Ah, so that''s what you did," she mused quietly. "You used sheer force to blow the spores away." Her tone was amused, but underneath seemed to have a calculated edge to it. She was impressed with Orc''s raw, brute strength, but she wasn''t about to let him undo her work so easily. Her hand slowly rose into the air, fingers tracing the space above her as she whispered an incantation. The air around her grew cold again, the dark aura seeping from her once more as if the very essence of death was manifesting from her fingertips. The sky seemed to dim slightly as her magic coiled, waiting for her command. "EPHEMERAL DEATH SPORE," she declared, her voice slicing through the air like a crack of thunder. The words themselves seemed to carry an eerie weight, as if the very sound of them held death within. The shockwave of her incantation rippled outward from her, a visible disturbance that spread across the battlefield in a series of ominous, dark waves. The shockwave surged forward like a spectral wind, sweeping through the city streets. It moved fast, but there was an odd, almost graceful fluidity to it. The wave twisted and turned, following the contours of the battlefield, snaking around ruined buildings and debris like a silent reaper, unnoticed by those too busy fighting. As the shockwave touched the mushrooms scattered across the city, they began to tremble. It started with the closest one. It shook violently as though something was crawling inside it, trying to break free. Then, the shockwave passed to another, and another, the effect cascading through the streets. Each mushroom quivered at the touch of the spell, the tremors growing stronger and more erratic as the wave continued its journey. The scene was terrifying to behold. From any vantage point, you could see the wave moving through the streets like an unstoppable force of nature, touching mushroom after mushroom. Each one shuddered violently, their spores swelling, their stems twitching like something alive. The dark, deathly aura that clung to them intensified, becoming more visible to the naked eye, like a sinister fog creeping closer. One by one, the mushrooms erupted. Not like before, with mild clouds of spores drifting lazily into the air. No, this time the spores were unleashed with a force that could only be described as cataclysmic. From the trembling fungi burst thick, choking clouds of deadly spores, rolling out like a tsunami of smoke. The air itself seemed to turn to poison as the clouds expanded, the blackish-green mist swallowing everything in its path. The spores moved like a living entity, a massive wave of death that rolled through the city streets, consuming buildings, rubble, and anything in its path. The sound of it was horrifying¡ªa low, rumbling growl as the mist thickened, blotting out the sky as it moved. ¡­ Meanwhile, Volk stood among his celebrating Horde. "VOLK VOLK VOLK!" The Ogres and Orcs around him roared and cheered, their voices booming in triumph. Volk himself grinned wide, his massive chest heaving with satisfaction as he basked in the praise of his Horde. They were alive! They were strong! He had saved them! But then, the cheering stopped. Volk''s eyes narrowed, sensing something wrong. He turned, and there, in the distance, he saw it¡ªa massive tsunami of smoke, darker and thicker than before, rolling toward them with terrifying speed. It wasn''t just a mist this time; it was a wall of death, surging forward like a living, breathing entity. The death spores were back, and they were more powerful than ever. Volk''s grin faded for a moment, replaced by a grim understanding. He hated that mist. Hated how it weakened his Horde, how it threatened to undo everything. But then, a wicked smirk curled on his lips. This was nothing. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Nothing that Volk and his Horde couldn''t handle. He threw his head back and roared. "HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORDE!" The sound was so loud, it made the very ground vibrate. Every Ogre and Orc within earshot stopped in their tracks, turning toward Volk with wide, eager eyes. They listened intently, awaiting their leader''s command. Volk''s massive hand pointed toward the oncoming wave of deathly mist, his glowing eyes burning with fury. "YOU SEE THAT? YOU SEE THAT CLOUD?" he shouted, his voice deep and guttural. "THAT CLOUD TRY TAKE YOU DOWN AGAIN! VOLK SAY... NO! WE HORDE STRONGER! WE SMASH CLOUD!" The Ogres and Orcs roared in response, their blood boiling at the thought of another challenge. Volk''s grin widened. He knew he had them. "LISTEN CLOSE!" he bellowed. "YOU TAKE HANDS... LIKE THIS!" He raised his massive palms together, spreading his fingers wide as he demonstrated. The Horde mimicked him, watching his every move closely. "SPREAD FINGERS... WIDE! HANDS STRONG! THEN... YOU CLAP!" Volk slammed his palms together with a thunderous WHAM!, the force of it sending a gust of wind spiraling out from him. "CLAP! SMASH CLOUD! MAKE WIND! BIG WIND! WE BLOW CLOUD AWAY!" The Ogres and Orcs looked at each other, determination flickering in their eyes. They spread their hands, preparing to clap just as Volk had shown them. "ALL TOGETHER!" Volk roared. "YOU CLAP WHEN VOLK SAY! READY! READY!" The tension in the air was palpable as the Horde readied themselves, hands spread wide, arms tensed, waiting for the signal. The death cloud surged closer, its black mass filling the horizon. The ground trembled as the spores rolled toward them, but Volk stood tall, unafraid. "NOW!" he shouted. "CLAP!" WHAM! Thousands of Ogres and Orcs clapped in unison, their massive palms slamming together with a sound like a cannon blast. The force was incredible, a shockwave of wind that tore through the battlefield, pushing back against the death cloud. But Volk wasn''t done. "AGAIN! CLAP AGAIN! HARDER!" WHAM! Another clap, louder than the first. The wind intensified, swirling with more power as it pressed against the spores. "AGAIN! CLAP! CLAP!" Volk''s voice boomed over the battlefield as he led the Horde in a furious rhythm of clapping, each one stronger, louder than the last. The air quivered with the force of their combined power, the ground shaking beneath their feet. With each clap, the wind built in strength, howling through the streets like a living thing. The spores in the distance began to buckle under the pressure, their advance slowing as the wind pushed harder and harder against them. WHAM! WHAM! The Ogres and Orcs clapped with everything they had, their roars mixing with the sound of their hands slamming together. Volk''s voice rang out over the chaos, urging them on. "SMASH CLOUD! SMASH IT!" The wind swirled into a vortex, spinning faster and faster, gathering strength with every clap. The death cloud wavered, the spores within it scattering, unable to withstand the force. Then, with one final, earth-shattering WHAM, the wind exploded outward in a massive gust, tearing through the battlefield. The death cloud was ripped apart, its thick, poisonous mist scattered into nothingness, blown away like dust on the wind. The Horde erupted into cheers, their voices filling the air with triumphant roars. They had done it. They had smashed the cloud. They had survived. And Volk stood at the center of it all, his chest heaving with pride, his fists clenched in victory. His Horde was strong. His Horde was unstoppable. "HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORDE!!!" He roared, "STROOOOOOONG!!!!" he roared again, his voice filled with the thrill of triumph, and the Horde roared back, their voices shaking the very sky. Chapter 152 - 152: Reinforcement From her vantage point, Bong Me-Eon watched in disbelief as the Horde below celebrated their victory. Her brows furrowed deeply, lips pressed into a thin line. "How...?" she muttered to herself. Most Orc tribes were chaotic, mindless, throwing themselves into battle with no real strategy or cohesion. But this tribe¡ªthey were different. They were organized, disciplined, and frighteningly responsive to their leader, leader. Even though she was an S-class ranker, she knew that taking on such a well-coordinated group, especially ones that could turn into Ogres, would be beyond even her abilities alone. Her mind raced with questions. "Is it because they can turn into Ogres?" she pondered aloud, turning over possibilities in her mind. Ogres were typically brutish, cannibalistic creatures, known for their wild nature and lack of reasoning. Yet here they were, these Orcs-turned-Ogres, behaving rationally and responding to commands. "Something''s wrong with this picture," Bong Me-Eon murmured. "This isn''t normal." Just as she was about to delve deeper into her thoughts, the unmistakable rhythmic thrum of helicopter blades caught her attention. The noise grew louder, cutting through the chaotic battlefield like an ominous announcement. She turned around quickly, her eyes widening at the sight. Above her, an entire fleet of military helicopters filled the sky. There were so many, it looked as if the heavens had unleashed a swarm of steel birds. Their black, angular bodies gleamed in the dim light, their blades slicing through the air with a deafening roar. As they hovered, ropes were dropped, and one by one, figures clad in heavy combat gear descended swiftly to the ground. Bong Me-Eon could sense them immediately¡ªthe thick aura of power radiating from each one. These weren''t ordinary soldiers. They were rankers. And not just any rankers. These were class A. The scene was an organized flurry of activity. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of rankers poured out of the helicopters, each one landing with practiced precision. The sound of boots hitting the ground, weapons clinking, and the constant hum of helicopters made the atmosphere tense. The air was thick with the weight of impending battle. Bong Me-Eon''s eyes narrowed as she studied them. "Class A, huh?" she muttered, feeling a small twinge of relief. Reinforcements were finally here, but would they be enough? Even for Class A rankers, the organized Horde down below would be no easy task. Suddenly, a deep voice spoke from behind her, pulling her from her thoughts. "S-class Ranker Bong Me-Eon, correct?" She turned swiftly to see a tall man standing beside her. He was armored head to toe in sleek, dark combat gear that looked almost impenetrable. His helmet, adorned with the insignia of high-ranking officials, covered most of his face, leaving only his sharp eyes visible. A large, reinforced chest plate protected his torso, and his shoulders were lined with reinforced padding. Attached to his belt were various weapons¡ªblades, firearms, and gadgets designed for any number of combat scenarios. He carried himself with a sense of authority, his presence commanding immediate attention. The man removed his helmet, revealing a stern, battle-hardened face. His eyes were sharp and calculating, scanning the battlefield for any signs of danger. His short, graying hair and the scars that ran across his face told the story of a veteran who had seen many battles. "I need a full report," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "We''ve lost contact with the Class B rankers that were dispatched earlier. How many of them are left? What''s the situation down there?" Bong Me-Eon sighed, her expression somber as she turned her gaze back toward the field of carnage below. "None," she replied bluntly. "They''re all gone. Wiped out." The man''s jaw tightened at her words. "How?" "The monsters," Bong Me-Eon explained, her voice calm but laced with frustration. "Orcs. Class C, initially. But they have this... ability. They can transform into Ogres. When they do, they''re class A monsters. That''s how they overwhelmed the Class B and C rankers. They weren''t prepared for that kind of power." The man''s brow furrowed as he processed her words. "Class C Orcs... turning into Class A Ogres?" He shook his head, his expression darkening. "That''s... catastrophic." He glanced back at the soldiers who were preparing for battle, his face grim. "It makes sense why they never stood a chance." Bong Me-Eon nodded. "Exactly. It was an ambush. They weren''t expecting the transformation." She clenched her fists. "If we don''t deal with this soon, there won''t be any humans left standing in this city." The man let out a slow breath, his gaze hardening as he looked out over the city. "Then we''ll avenge them," he said quietly, his voice heavy with determination. "That''s the least we can do for those who gave their lives." Bong Me-Eon said nothing, but her expression hardened as she prepared herself mentally for what was to come. The man''s eyes locked on Bong Me-Eon as he asked, "What''s the plan, then? What should we do?" Bong Me-Eon didn''t answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed as she stared down at the battlefield, watching the Horde below celebrate their recent victory. Her mind was already working through countless possibilities, strategies, and risks. Finally, she spoke, her voice cool but firm. "We need to take out the leader," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "He''s the one holding them together. Without him, the Horde will fall apart. If we don''t act fast, they''ll overwhelm us through sheer numbers and coordination." The man''s face tightened. "Why the leader?" Bong Me-Eon sighed softly. "These Orcs have transformed into something far more dangerous¡ªOgres. Normally, Ogres are brutal, savage creatures, but they don''t organize. They don''t lead. They devour anything, even their own. "But this Horde... they''re organized. They have a sense of unity and discipline that''s unnatural for their kind. That only happens when there''s someone holding them together, and that''s the leader. He''s the key. If we eliminate him, the rest will scatter, panic, and turn on each other." The man nodded, his jaw clenched. "And how do we separate him from the Horde? It''s not like he''s going to give us a chance to pick him off without a fight." Bong Me-Eon crossed her arms, her sharp eyes still focused on the battlefield as she thought carefully about her response. After a long pause, she offered four suggestions, each more dangerous than the last. "First," she began, "we can lure him away. We need to use something¡ªor someone¡ªthat the leader can''t resist. He''s impulsive and arrogant. If we can bait him into chasing us, we can pull him away from the Horde. "But the bait needs to be strong, something that will anger him, something he can''t ignore. Maybe a powerful display of force, or an insult to his authority in front of his followers. It''s risky, though. The person who acts as the bait may not survive." The man''s expression hardened as she continued. "Second," she said, "we can cut off his supply of reinforcements. Right now, the Horde follows his lead, but they''re also drawing strength from the fact that they''re still organized. "If we can create chaos within their ranks¡ªsplit them into smaller, more manageable groups¡ªwe can weaken them before the leader has a chance to respond. "We''ll need to sow confusion, maybe by using illusions or attacking from multiple fronts. It''s dangerous, though. We risk getting caught in the crossfire if we''re not careful." She paused for a moment, gauging his reaction before continuing with the next suggestion. "Third," Bong Me-Eon said, her voice lower now, "we can try to take out his lieutenants first. The leader may be the strongest, but he''s not working alone. He has a few key lieutenants, other powerful Ogres that help him maintain control over the Horde. "If we can eliminate them, the leader will be forced to handle the situation on his own. Without his trusted commanders, he might lose his grip on the Horde. "But that''s easier said than done. Each of those lieutenants could almost as strong as their leader himself. Taking them out won''t be easy, and it''ll take time¡ªtime we may not have." The man''s eyes flickered with concern, but Bong Me-Eon didn''t stop there. She had one final, desperate suggestion. "Lastly," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "we go straight for the heart. We launch a full-scale attack on the leader himself, but we hit hard and fast. "We take every available ranker we have, focus all our firepower on him, and overwhelm him before he can react. It''ll be brutal, and we''ll suffer heavy losses, but it''s the most direct way to end this quickly. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "We won''t have the luxury of a drawn-out battle. If we go with this plan, we have to be prepared to lose people. A lot of people." For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension. Bong Me-Eon''s suggestions were all risky, and each one came with the potential for significant loss. The man stared at her, his jaw set in grim determination. He understood the stakes. Finally, after a long, heavy silence, he spoke. "So be it," he said, his voice steady. "We''ll take the risk. Whatever it takes to bring down this Horde, we''ll do it. For the fallen, for the city. We can''t afford to lose." But before they could move to put any of the plans into action, a voice called out from behind them. "Wait!" The word cut through the air like a knife, freezing both of them in place. Bong Me-Eon and the man turned around swiftly, their eyes narrowing as they searched for the source of the voice. Chapter 153 - 153: Dont go Song Woo-Ji''s trembling body struggled to stay upright, his legs quivering beneath him. His skin was pallid, his face gaunt and drenched in sweat. His eyes, usually sharp with determination, were glazed over as if he were still fighting to remain in the land of the living. His breath came in shallow gasps as he leaned against the cold metal of the rooftop for support, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He was a shadow of his former self, weakened after the ordeal of death and revival, but there was a desperate urgency in his eyes. "D-D-Don''t¡­ g-go!" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a clear note of pleading. "D-Don''t¡­ go¡­" Bong Me-Eon turned her head sharply, concerned etching across her face as she watched her disciple struggle to even form words. "Woo-Ji, why?" she asked gently, kneeling down beside him, her tone soft but serious. "Why shouldn''t we go? What do you know?" Song Woo-Ji''s throat convulsed, and he forced the words out, each syllable like dragging a boulder up a steep hill. "W-we need¡­ stronger reinforcements¡­ SSS-Class ranker¡­" His eyes were wide with fear. "Or¡­ w-we''ll all¡­ d-die¡­" The armored man standing beside them, his helmet gleaming under the faint moonlight, narrowed his eyes. "Who is this?" he asked, his voice gruff as he gestured toward the weakened youth. Bong Me-Eon straightened her back, casting a quick glance at the man. "He''s my disciple, Song Woo-Ji," she said, her voice calm yet protective. The man raised a brow beneath his helmet, eyeing the trembling figure of Woo-Ji skeptically. "Did he fight the leader of the Orcs?" With what little strength he had left, Song Woo-Ji nodded vigorously, though his whole body shook as he did so. The man''s lips curled in slight disdain. "This kid''s weak," he muttered. "Maybe he''s just imagining things. Overestimating the enemy." His tone was dismissive, as though Song Woo-Ji''s warning was just the rambling of someone out of their depth. "It''s not uncommon for rookies to think every enemy is unbeatable." But Bong Me-Eon remained silent, her gaze fixed on her disciple''s face. She knew Woo-Ji too well. His instincts had saved her and others before. This wasn''t fear or exaggeration. It was something far worse¡ªcertainty. The look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps behind them drew their attention. Several Class A rankers approached, their armor gleaming in the faint light of the moon, faces set with grim determination. One of them stepped forward, saluting both Bong Me-Eon and the armored man. "Sir, ma''am," the lead ranker said, clearly addressing the two S-Class rankers. "Should we move in now?" The armored man turned to the group, his face hardening into a resolute mask. "Let''s go!" he barked. Without another word, he leaped from the rooftop, his body plummeting through the air for a moment before his form shot forward like a bullet, slicing through the sky with deadly precision. Several of the Class A rankers followed closely behind, their movements sharp and controlled, leaping off the rooftop in pursuit. But one of the rankers remained behind, his head tilting slightly as he waited for Bong Me-Eon. His eyes flickered between her and Song Woo-Ji, clearly unsure of what was happening. Bong Me-Eon, however, was lost in thought, her eyes darkening with worry. She had seen this look on Woo-Ji''s face before, on more than one occasion, when they''d faced enemies thought impossible to defeat. And every single time, he made the right call. She took a deep breath and made a decision. Reaching into her pocket, Bong Me-Eon pulled out a small, sleek communication device. Without hesitation, she dialed a number, her fingers moving swiftly across the interface. "Woo-Ji''s instincts have never failed me before," she whispered to herself, casting a worried glance at her disciple. "If he says we need stronger reinforcements, then we do." The communication device rang once¡­ then twice. Bong Me-Eon''s heart pounded in her chest as the tension built. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the call connected, and a gruff voice on the other end spoke. "Who is it?" Bong Me-Eon''s hand clenched tightly around the device. "We might need you," she said, her voice steady but full of urgency. "Maybe it''s going to be worse than we thought." ¡­ Volk''s massive form towered over the battlefield, his skin pulsing with a radioactive glow. His body crackled with volatile energy, the air around him shimmering with heatwaves as his rage-fueled, monstrous strength radiated from every pore. He clenched his fists, feeling the power surging through his veins, and let out a deafening roar that shook the ground beneath him. "RRAAAAGGGHHH!" The bellow reverberated across the broken landscape, rattling the remnants of shattered buildings, sending waves of fear through the humans and even the Ogres who had just moments ago cheered him on. Volk reveled in this form¡ªhis Radioactive transformation made him feel invincible, like a god towering over lesser beings. He thought for a fleeting moment: "Why haven''t I turned back yet?" It had been well over ten minutes. Usually, by now, his system would have forced him to return to his regular Orc form. "The system''s still updating," he reassured himself with a smug grin, his tusks gleaming menacingly in the low light of the battlefield. "No matter¡­ I like this form. Stronger¡­ better." He flexed his gargantuan arms, feeling the tension in his muscles as they coiled, ready to unleash another devastating blow. His deep green eyes scanned the ruined city beneath him, the scattered mushrooms that had once spewed death now vanquished by his sheer might. "They can''t stop me," he thought. "No one can." But then, Volk''s senses flared, something sharp and ominous pricking at the edges of his awareness. It was distant¡ªfar off, but it was coming. Fast. His instincts, honed from an undeniable thirst of violence, screamed at him to take notice. His muscles tensed involuntarily, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. "What¡­ is that?" he muttered, his brow furrowing in confusion. The pressure grew, a palpable force, like the very air itself was bending and warping as whatever it was approached. Volk''s red eyes darted across the horizon, trying to pinpoint the source of the overwhelming presence. Each second dragged out painfully long as the sensation grew stronger, heavier. His heart began to beat faster, not from fear, but from the thrill of a worthy challenge. Whatever was coming for him was no ordinary opponent. "Come on then!" Volk roared to the sky, his voice filled with wild, reckless excitement. "COME AT ME!" The wind picked up, howling through the ruined city streets as the force approached. It was like a freight train barreling through space, growing louder, faster, more intense with every passing moment. The ground itself seemed to tremble beneath Volk''s feet as the sheer energy of the incoming threat rolled over him in invisible waves. It was powerful¡ªterrifyingly so. The kind of power that made even Volk, in his Radioactive form, feel a twinge of unease. The distant sky began to warp, a streak of light blazing across the dark horizon. Volk''s eyes narrowed, honing in on the source of that light. He could see it now¡ªa blazing streak of pure, condensed energy, ripping through the atmosphere like a meteor. It was hurtling toward him at breakneck speed, a force so concentrated that the very air around it seemed to ripple and distort, warping the fabric of reality itself. "Faster!" Volk''s voice rumbled with anticipation. The pressure in the air intensified. His muscles tightened further, preparing for whatever this was. His radioactive glow flared brighter, the heat from his body increasing as his excitement grew. His mind raced, thoughts of battle flooding his head. "Finally¡­ a real fight!" The streak of energy drew closer, tearing through the sky with deafening speed. Volk''s eyes widened in disbelief as the shape became clearer. It was no mere projectile¡ªit was a man. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The armored figure hurtling through the air was shrouded in a golden glow, moving so fast that Volk could barely register his form. The wind from his speed whipped up tornado-like gusts around him, carving deep trenches into the ground below as he passed over the broken city. "What the hell is that?!" Volk growled, but his voice was drowned out by the sheer force of the armored man''s velocity. The man was a missile, a bullet of raw power aimed straight at Volk. As the figure sped closer, the force of his approach became unbearable. The pressure around Volk intensified, making even his Radioactive form feel small in comparison. The very air vibrated with power, the sky itself seemed to bow beneath the weight of this unstoppable force. Volk clenched his fists, his face contorting into a mixture of excitement and rage. "COME ON!" he roared, the ground cracking beneath him as his rage intensified. "I''LL CRUSH YOU!" In the final moments before impact, Volk braced himself. The air around him shimmered with radioactive energy, his muscles bulging to their limits, veins pulsing with anticipation. He was ready to meet this challenge head-on. But then, in the blink of an eye, the armored man didn''t collide with him as Volk expected. Instead, the man zoomed past Volk at a blinding speed, a streak of golden light trailing behind him, leaving the hulking Radioactive beast standing there, blinking in confusion. The man didn''t even seem to register Volk''s presence. "Wha¡­?" Volk grunted, caught off guard. His towering form swayed slightly as he tried to process what had just happened. He turned his head, following the trajectory of the armored man, watching as he crashed straight into the earth far ahead, sending up a cataclysmic shockwave of dust and debris into the sky. Volk''s growl turned into a frustrated roar, his han ds curling into fists. "YOU!" he shouted, the ground beneath him shaking from the force of his anger. "COME BACK HERE!" But the armored man had already gone past him, crashing headlong into the city ahead. Chapter 154 - 154: Uneasy Smirk The man in the armor floated above the battlefield, his arms crossed arrogantly, casting a sneering gaze upon Volk and his horde. His polished armor gleamed in the dim light, radiating a golden glow that seemed to mock the chaos unfolding below. His eyes narrowed, observing with cold detachment as his allies, the human rankers, advanced in perfect formation, weapons drawn and magic swirling around them like a deadly storm. Volk, his senses sharpened by his Radioactive form, felt the shift in the air. His massive frame tensed as his eyes darted behind him, sensing the sudden influx of human rankers closing in. He let out a low growl, his anger bubbling up as he saw the humans charging at his horde. The smell of blood and burning ozone filled the air as the two sides prepared to clash. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Suddenly, Grashk, Volk''s trusted lieutenant, appeared by his side. The hulking Ogre, his skin a mottled mix of dark green and brown, approached respectfully, his voice a deep rumble. "Volk," he called out. Volk turned his crimson eyes to his friend and nodded in acknowledgment. Then, without hesitation, he raised his massive fist into the air, the muscles in his arm bulging with raw power. "LOOOKKKTAAAARR!!" he roared, his voice booming across the battlefield like thunder. "OOOOGAAAAAAAARRR!!!" His rallying cry shook the earth, and the horde of Ogres responded with a deafening chorus of roars, their battle cries filling the air with primal rage. The ground trembled beneath their feet as they charged forward, their massive bodies crashing into the human rankers like a tidal wave of brute force. The battlefield erupted into pure chaos. The first collision was bone-shattering. The sound of steel meeting flesh echoed in the air, followed by the sickening crunch of bones breaking under the weight of massive Ogre fists. CRACK! A human ranker was flung through the air, his body twisting unnaturally as an Ogre''s hammer-like fist struck his side, sending him flying into a nearby building with a thunderous BOOM! But the humans were no pushovers. The human rankers, Class A in strength, stood their ground with a terrifying combination of physical prowess and magical might. One of them, a tall woman with dark hair, slashed at an Ogre with a glowing blade of fire. WHOOSH! The flames roared as her blade sliced through the Ogre''s thick skin, leaving a trail of seared flesh and blackened blood. The Ogre howled in pain but retaliated immediately, swinging a massive club at her with enough force to level a small building. SMASH! She dodged the blow with nimble precision, her movements almost too fast for the eye to follow. She was followed by several other rankers, each wielding a different element¡ªlightning crackled, fire blazed, and ice formed around the battlefield as they unleashed their magical attacks. Grashk fought alongside Volk, his enormous fists pounding into the ground, sending shockwaves that knocked several humans off their feet. However, for every human he knocked down, two more rose to take their place. "RAGGHH!" Grashk bellowed, swinging wildly at the human rankers surrounding him. His fists connected with one, smashing him into the dirt, but the others retaliated with sharp blades and elemental magic. Volk, standing at the center of the battle, watched as his horde engaged in a vicious brawl. At first, it seemed like they were evenly matched¡ªthe Ogres, with their immense size and raw strength, were holding their own against the human rankers. However, Volk''s sharp eyes soon noticed something troubling. His brow furrowed as he squinted at the battlefield. Despite their size and power, the Ogres were struggling. The human rankers weren''t just strong¡ªthey were organized, strategic, and most importantly, they were using magic. Volk snarled as he watched one of his largest Ogres fall to the ground, its body wracked with electricity from a lightning spell. "So, it''s affecting us now?" Another Ogre, caught in a blast of freezing ice, was rendered immobile before a group of human rankers swiftly cut it down. "Maybe the magic of the last human rankers before them were ignored by us because they are weak, but now¡­" Volk''s mind raced as he tried to comprehend the situation. The weaker human rankers from earlier had barely affected his horde with their spells. But these new ones¡­ these Class A rankers, their magic was potent. It was breaking through the Ogres'' natural resistance, and his horde was paying the price for it. Volk gritted his teeth, rage boiling inside him. "We''re stronger¡­ but their magic is really affecting us now huh¡­" He watched as another of his Ogres, despite being twice the size of his opponent, was brought down by a torrent of fire and ice. The magical attacks were making the difference, tipping the scales in the humans'' favor. ¡­ Meanwhile, high above the battlefield, the armored man floated with a smug expression, his arms still arrogantly crossed as he observed the carnage below. His lips curled into a mocking smirk as he watched the Ogres struggle against his fellow human rankers. "Weak," he thought, his mind filled with disdain for the horde below. "These monsters are nothing. Just big, dumb brutes." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Class A rankers are handling them easily. They don''t even need me down there. It''s almost embarrassing to watch." He watched as a group of human rankers, wielding blades infused with elemental magic, effortlessly carved through the Ogres'' ranks. One by one, the hulking creatures fell, their massive bodies crashing to the ground like felled trees. The armored man scoffed, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "Look at them," he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "They don''t even know how to handle magic. They just charge in like brainless animals. Pathetic." He let out a cruel laugh, watching as another Ogre was brought to its knees by a barrage of fireballs. "Dumb monsters," he thought, his smirk widening. "They''re so predictable. Magic always confuses them. They have no counter for it." He shook his head, his armor glinting in the light as he floated above the chaos. "They think brute strength is enough. It''s laughable." The armored man''s laughter echoed in his own mind as he watched the scene unfold. "If this is all they''ve got, we''ll wipe them out in no time." He cast a glance at Volk, who was still fighting with all his might at the center of the battlefield, and snorted dismissively. "Even their leader¡­ he''s nothing special. Just another brute who doesn''t understand real power. They just got lucky they faced the weaker rankers earlier. Now, it''s time for our revenge! Humanistic revenge!" But then, something caught his eye. Volk had turned to face him, his crimson eyes locked onto the armored man. Despite the chaos, despite the magic ripping through his horde, Volk''s lips twisted into a savage grin, his gaze burning with challenge. The armored man''s laughter suddenly died in his throat. "What is he looking at? Is he challenging me? Is the leader of the horde overestimating himself?" The man sneered. "His horde is being thoroughly crushed, yet he still dares to act arrogant. Is this leader out of his mind? It seems their intelligence is not high enough; this is not surprising given their brutish nature and their mindless brawling strategy¡­" Chapter 155 - 155: Sense of Danger Volk''s massive body tensed, his muscles coiling like steel cables as he crouched low, ready to launch himself into the air. "UWAAARRRGGGG!!!" The battlefield seemed to stand still for a heartbeat, the chaos around him momentarily muted by the sheer force building inside him. He clenched his fists, veins bulging along his forearms, and then¡ªBOOM!¡ªhe sprang upward with the force of a thousand explosions, leaving a crater where he once stood. The shockwave from his leap rippled across the battlefield, knocking both Ogres and human rankers off their feet. The sky itself seemed to shudder as Volk shot through the air, his massive form cutting through the wind like a missile. The sound of his ascent was deafening, like a sonic boom that tore through the clouds. WHOOSH! The air around him cracked and hissed as his velocity increased, the force of his jump sending him far above the armored man who hovered arrogantly below. Volk soared higher and higher, his massive fists clenched, his mind ablaze with newfound power. He could feel the wind tearing at his flesh, but it didn''t matter. He reveled in it, the sensation of absolute freedom, of total dominance over the battlefield below. His eyes gleamed as he glanced down, far below him, at the chaos of the battle. His horde clashed violently with the human rankers, the clash of steel and the roars of pain and fury rising like a chorus to meet him. A grin spread across his monstrous face. Volk had an idea. The battle, the destruction¡ªit felt too good. There was something special about this fight. It was more than just strength¡ªit was something deeper. As he hovered in the sky, far above the battlefield, his mind flashed back to the Draconic Graveyard, the place he had utterly decimated last time. It was there, in the smoldering ruins of that forsaken domain, that Volk had discovered a new ability. He would use that ability once again! Too many people are down below, and they are waiting for him to do what he must do as an invasive monster! To murder! A system screen suddenly flickers into view in his vision. The familiar sound rang in his ears: Ding! | You have updated one of the new features of the system. | The health bar! | Volk blinked, his eyes narrowing as he processed the message. Health bar? he thought, confused but intrigued. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, another message appeared: Ding! | Updating more features on the new system¡­ | Volk''s lips curled into a sneer as he saw it. "Updating? What now?" He growled to himself, feeling the system''s strange influence working within him. But then, his gaze flicked downward, and he noticed something that made his heart race. Below, on the battlefield, the human rankers and the Ogres were now marked¡ªeach with a glowing bar of light above their heads. The Ogres and Orcs had green bars, while the humans were marked with red. Obviously, it means one thing. Green means ally. Red means enemy. Volk didn''t need to be told twice. He understood it instinctively. The system had just granted him an ability to see the health of both his allies and his enemies. Volk''s grin widened into a full-blown snarl. "GRAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!" His laughter echoed across the sky, a deep, guttural roar that shook the very air around him. "VOOOOLLLKK IS HAPPY!" he bellowed, his voice filled with savage glee. Then, in a sudden shift, his laughter turned darker, more violent. "THEREFORE¡­ VOOOOOLLKK IS ANGRRRYYY!!!" His crimson eyes gleamed with malice as he clenched his fists, his massive muscles rippling with anticipation. "This system update is perfect timing," Volk muttered to himself, his voice a low growl. "Now I can see who needs to be destroyed!" The battlefield below was now clearly marked, and Volk knew exactly who his targets were. Without wasting another second, Volk turned his gaze downward. He saw the exact center of the battlefield, where both Ogres and human rankers were locked in combat. "Perfect," he thought. His massive form hung in the sky for just a moment longer, and then, with a thunderous roar, he shot downward like a meteor. WHOOSH! WHOOSH! The wind screamed around him as he plummeted back to the earth, his body accelerating with each passing second. The faster he fell, the stronger his energy became, the very air around him vibrating with the sheer force of his descent. He was like a living comet, his body glowing with an intense heat as he hurtled toward the center of the battlefield. Below, the armored man couldn''t help but be surprised. His eyes widened as he watched Volk''s monstrous form shoot into the sky like a missile. "What is he doing?" the man thought, his brow furrowing in confusion. He had expected Volk to attack him, to engage in battle mid-air, but instead, the Orc leader had launched himself far higher than anticipated. The man''s heart began to pound in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation creeping through him. Something felt wrong. "Why do I feel this¡­?" he muttered to himself, his hands tightening into fists. His heartbeat quickened, each thud of his heart growing louder in his ears. "Why¡­?" Suddenly, as Volk began his rapid descent back to the battlefield, the man felt it¡ªhis heart leapt in his chest, a violent, involuntary reaction to the sheer force of Volk''s presence. His body trembled, his instincts screaming at him that something was terribly, terribly wrong. "This¡­ this isn''t right¡­" The armored man''s eyes widened in shock as he watched Volk descending like a fiery comet, faster and stronger with each passing second. THUMP! THUMP! His heart pounded wildly, the sensation overwhelming him. "What¡­ what is this?" he gasped, his voice trembling. His body was shaking uncontrollably now, his muscles refusing to obey his commands. "I can''t¡­ stop trembling!" S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk was coming down, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "NUCLEAR EEECHO BOOOOOOOOMMB!!!" Volk''s voice roared across the battlefield as he drew closer to the ground, his massive fists raised and ready to smash into the earth with devastating force. The Ogres and human rankers alike looked up in terror as Volk''s massive form hurtled toward them, his fist aimed directly at the center of the battlefield. But just as Volk''s fist was about to collide with the earth¡ªBANG! A sharp, stinging pain exploded across Volk''s face. His eyes widened in shock as his body was suddenly knocked off course, the force of the blow sending him sprawling forward, not far away from the center of the battlefield. Volk''s body hurtled downward, his momentum still raging like a comet streaking through the atmosphere. The interference had misdirected him just enough to avoid the perfect impact, but the sheer force of his descent still carried through. CRACK! The ground below shattered violently as his massive fist collided with the earth, sending shockwaves in all directions. The land buckled beneath him, jagged fissures snaking outward as debris exploded into the air. Chapter 156 - 156: WAAAAAAAAR! Volk''s form was forced deep into the earth, his colossal body disappearing into the jagged maw of the ground he had just destroyed. For a moment, the battlefield stilled, the chaos of battle pausing as even the human rankers and the Ogres alike glanced at the destruction Volk had caused. Dust and rubble clouded the air, but beneath the ground, Volk roared with fury, his voice muffled by layers of dirt and rock. His body was lodged upside down, his legs dangling awkwardly above him in the cramped space. "GRAAAAAHHHH!" His primal bellow shook the ground itself as he fought against the restraints of the earth, refusing to be confined by something as trivial as solid rock. His massive arms strained, veins bulging across his forearms and shoulders as he clawed his way upward. Above ground, in the midst of the battle, the earth trembled once more as a giant hand erupted from the ground, breaking through the rubble like a leviathan surfacing from the deep. Volk''s massive fingers dug into the shattered ground, pulling himself up with brute force. Then, his face, twisted with fury, broke through the earth''s surface, his eyes blazing with anger. His tusks gleamed menacingly under the clouded sky as he glared around the battlefield, looking for his target. His gaze locked onto the armored man, who was still standing arrogantly amidst the chaos. The man casually kicked aside some Ogres and Orcs, as if they were nothing more than annoyances. His nonchalant attitude, the ease with which he dismissed Volk''s horde, ignited a furious blaze in Volk''s chest. "YOOOUUU!!!" Volk roared, his voice a thunderous growl that rippled across the battlefield. His hands clawed at the ground as he dragged his massive form out of the crater, his entire body shaking with barely contained rage. But before Volk could move toward his target, a voice rang out behind him, sharp and commanding. "THERE''S THE ORC HORDE LEADER! DESTROY HIM!" Volk''s head snapped around just in time to see a barrage of flame, glowing hot and fierce, hurtling toward him. FWOOM! The fire seared through the air, and Volk barely had time to raise his arms in defense before it smashed into him with a burning ferocity. The flames licked at his skin, scorching his flesh, but before he could react, more magical elements came crashing down upon him. Lightning cracked through the sky, arcs of pure energy tearing through the battlefield to strike Volk''s massive form. ZAP! The bolts exploded against his skin, sending jolts of pain shooting through his nerves. Then came the ice, sharp shards of frozen magic piercing through the air to embed themselves into his flesh. CRASH! The cold burned just as much as the flame, and Volk let out a furious roar of pain. The magical onslaught was endless. From all sides, human rankers shouted commands, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony of war cries and orders. "Keep up the pressure! Don''t let him recover!" "Focus your attacks! We need to bring him down!" S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Burn him! Freeze him! Don''t let up!" Every ranker seemed to be targeting Volk, throwing their most powerful spells and attacks at him with reckless abandon. Fireballs, ice spikes, lightning strikes, earthquakes¡ªevery possible element surged toward him, smashing into his body without pause. BOOM! CRACK! FWOOSH! The battlefield was a storm of magic, the air thick with the smell of burning flesh and the crackle of energy. Volk''s muscles tensed and rippled beneath the assault, his massive frame absorbing blow after blow. But even he, as strong as he was, could feel the sting of these powerful attacks. His flesh sizzled, his skin blistering under the endless barrage of magic. His vision blurred with the sheer force of the hits, but his eyes remained sharp, burning with fury as he took the punishment. Behind him, his horde¡ªthe Ogres and Orcs¡ªwatched in horror as their leader was engulfed in the violent storm of magic. "WAECHIIIEEEFF!!!!" they screamed, panic spreading through their ranks. The Ogres, usually so fearsome, now seemed lost and afraid. They had never seen their leader in such a state, overwhelmed by the relentless attacks of the human rankers. Some of the Ogres surged forward, desperate to save Volk from the onslaught. "WARCHIIEEEEFFF!!!! WARCHIIEEEEEFFFFF!!!" they bellowed, their voices thick with desperation. But the human rankers stood firm, their attacks focused solely on Volk, even if it meant leaving themselves open to the clubs and axes of the Ogres. The human rankers didn''t care if they died. All that mattered was taking down the Orc Horde leader. Volk could hear the panicked cries of his horde, but he was too consumed by the magical storm to respond. His body was being pelted from every direction, his skin charred, his muscles burning from the relentless attacks. He was being buried alive beneath a mountain of magical power, his massive form almost completely obscured by the swirling vortex of spells. Fire, ice, lightning, earth¡ªevery element imaginable crashed into him, layer upon layer of destruction piling on top of him until he was nothing more than a shadow in the midst of the chaos. His body was covered from head to toe in the magical assault, and it seemed like there was no end to it. But deep within the storm, Volk''s eyes still burned with fury. His body, battered and bruised, refused to give in. He could feel the pain coursing through him, but it only fueled his rage. His massive frame trembled with barely contained fury, his muscles twitching as he struggled against the endless assault. ¡­ Through the cracks in the magical storm, Volk''s face could be seen, his eyes gleaming with pure hatred toward the surrounding rankers who were raining magic spells on him. GrrrRrrrRrrrr¡­ His mouth twisted into a snarl, his teeth bared in fury as he glared at his enemies. The human rankers thought they could bury him, that they could drown him in their magic, making him frustrated. Some of them even stopped targeting him, as they were now celebrating, thinking that they had already gotten rid of him. Volk hated it! HOW DARE YOU STOP ATTACKING!? DO YOU THINK I, VOLK, THE CHIEFTAIN, CAN BE EASILY KILLED!? CAN I BE EASILY BEATEN!? VOLK WAS NOT EASILY BEATEN! VOLK CANNOT BE BEATEN THAT EASILY! From within the storm, Volk''s voice erupted like a volcano, a primal roar that tore through the air with the force of an earthquake. "VOOOOOOLLLKKK IIIIIISSSS," he mumbled with a destructive growl, "THE STRONGEEEEEEESSST!!!" he roared! Chapter 157 - 157: Unkillable Warchief On the other hand, the armored man stood motionless, his towering figure a silent sentinel amidst the chaos. Beneath his gleaming helmet, his face was drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged and uneven. Each exhale was heavy, as if the very air itself resisted entering his lungs. His chest heaved under the armor, his heart pounding so fiercely that it felt like it might burst from his ribcage. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. His vision blurred for a moment, and the relentless drumming of his pulse filled his ears, drowning out the sounds of battle around him. His heart, racing uncontrollably, seemed to dictate his every thought. But then, without warning, when his fist connected with Volk, as he sent the Orc horde leader crashing violently into the ground, something shifted. His heart slowed. A strange calm washed over him. The beat, once frantic and erratic, now became measured, steady. He felt the panic drain from his body. Thump... thump... thump¡­ The armored man didn''t understand why, but at that moment, his instincts had screamed at him. His entire body had trembled with the overwhelming sense of danger. His mind had flashed with the thought: If Volk touched the ground... What will happen? He didn''t know but something inside was telling him it would be the end of everything. Now, he stood still, watching the battlefield as human rankers cast wave after wave of powerful magic, burying Volk in an ocean of elemental destruction. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The air crackled with energy, and flames danced across the shattered earth where Volk had fallen. The armored man exhaled deeply. "It''s over," he muttered under his breath, though his voice trembled slightly. Around him, the other rankers began to relax as well. Their shoulders sagged with relief, and many let out weary chuckles or sighed loudly. They had poured everything into that assault, and seeing the Orc horde leader crushed beneath their combined power seemed to signal the end. The only thing they need to deal with were the others, they are sure that without the head, these monsters wouldn''t function well. So¡­ The armored man, too, let his tense muscles loosen. His chest, which had been tight with fear moments ago, expanded freely now. He was almost beginning to enjoy the moment of victory when suddenly¡ª KABOOM! The ground beneath their feet exploded outward. Stone and debris shot into the air like shrapnel, and from within the swirling dust, a colossal figure began to emerge. Volk''s roar echoed through the battlefield, a primal, furious bellow that shook the bones of every human ranker within earshot. "GRROOOOOOOAAAAAAAARRRR!!!" Volk had doubled in size. His already massive frame now loomed over them, a mountain of flesh and rage. His muscles bulged, thick cords of sinew rippling beneath his dark green skin. His veins pulsed like rivers of molten lava, and his entire body seemed to exude a terrifying aura of raw power. His eyes, once just gleaming with fury, now blazed with an almost supernatural glow, burning like twin suns of anger. His tusks jutted out further, his mouth twisted into a snarl of unimaginable rage. The armored man froze, his eyes widening in terror. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to move, to run, but his body refused to obey. Volk stood before him, a living nightmare. The Orc horde leader''s fists were clenched, veins bulging as he raised them high above his head. Towering, he cast an enormous shadow over the battlefield, his entire form radiating an overwhelming sense of doom. Around them, the Ogres and Orcs saw their leader rise, and immediately they erupted into cheers. "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" They chanted his status in their ranks with a reckless abandon, and their voices were merging into a single, thunderous roar of triumph. The once panicked and disheartened horde had found renewed strength. Their leader was not only alive but more powerful than before. "VOOOOLLLKKK!!!" A hulking Ogre raised his massive club into the air, tears streaming down his rough face. "Warchief wouldn''t fall easily! The invincible leader! We knew he would never fall!" Another Orc, battered and bloodied, threw his hands into the air and screamed, "Volk! Warchief has returned! We will destroy them all!" The horde surged forward, their morale skyrocketing as they watched their leader stand defiant in the center of the battlefield. Their chants grew louder, almost deafening. "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" "WAAaAAARCHIIEEFFFF!" It was a war cry, a promise of destruction and death to their enemies. They swung their weapons with renewed vigor, crashing into the human rankers like an unstoppable wave of violence. The humans, on the other hand, were overcome with a crippling sense of dread. "What is that¡­?!" one of the human rankers stammered, his voice shaking. "He''s even bigger now! How are we supposed to fight that?!" "Magic! Keep hitting him with magic!" someone yelled, but the fear in their voice betrayed their lack of confidence. No one had expected this. They thought they had buried the orc horde leader under their combined might, but now he stood, more monstrous than ever, and their magic seemed pathetically small in comparison. The armored man stood frozen, his mind racing as the cheers of the Ogres and the horrified murmurs of the human rankers echoed in his ears. And then, without warning, his thoughts drifted back. Why am I here? he wondered. How did I get to this point? Suddenly, memories surged through his mind, taking him back to when he was just a young man, an E-rank ranker. Back then, he was nothing¡ªjust a nameless face in a sea of hopefuls, trying to survive the dangerous world of dungeons and monsters. He remembered the first time he fought against a low-level beast, his hands trembling as he swung his sword. He was weak, scared, but he had survived, barely. Then came D-rank, where he began to understand the life of a ranker. He learned discipline, control, and started making a name for himself. He wasn''t powerful yet, but he had grit, and that counted for something. The fame was still out of reach, but his rise in the ranks began to catch people''s attention. People started to notice his growth. C-rank brought with it recognition. He could feel the shift, not just in his power but in how others treated him. Missions became harder, the monsters more dangerous, but so did his resolve. He was no longer that trembling kid with the sword. He was strong, and with that strength came the first taste of fame. He remembered the first time someone asked for his autograph, the feeling of pride swelling in his chest. B-rank was where everything changed. It wasn''t just about surviving anymore; it was about winning. He was chosen for high-profile missions, and his name began to spread beyond just a handful of rankers. He fought in larger battles, proving his worth time and time again. And when he finally reached A-rank, he felt invincible. People hailed him as a hero. He had saved cities, defeated monstrous foes, and with every victory, the world seemed to watch him more closely. Then came S-rank¡ªthe pinnacle. He remembered the day he was promoted, the way the world seemed to shift around him. Suddenly, he wasn''t just a hero. He was the hero. His name was whispered with awe, his face plastered on every magazine and news broadcast. People called him legendary, but in that moment, he realized something crucial¡ªthere was always something more terrifying on the horizon. Why did I think of this now? He blinked, coming back to the present. The battlefield was still around him, the magic, the blood, the destruction. Why... did I dream of my entire life just now? His heart began to race again, his hands trembling beneath his armor. He looked up, his eyes widening as his mind snapped back into focus. There, towering above him, was Volk. The Orc horde leader had both fists raised high, ready to bring them down that seemed to have enough force to shatter the earth. Chapter 158 - 158: SSS ranked monster High above the chaotic battlefield, at the rooftop of a distant building where Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji stood watch, a sudden surge of energy crackled in the air. A portal shimmered into existence, swirling with hues of violet and silver, its edges rippling like water disturbed by a gentle breeze. From within, a figure emerged¡ªa woman who carried herself with a presence that commanded attention. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, yet age had only added to her fierce beauty. Her dark hair was swept back in a high ponytail, streaked with hints of silver that framed her sharp, angular face. Her eyes were a piercing shade of green, bright and intelligent, keen as blades. Fine lines traced the corners of her mouth and eyes, but they did nothing to dull her severe expression; if anything, they gave her an edge of authority and life-worn wisdom. Her posture was straight, her shoulders back, projecting an air of unshakable confidence. She wore a fitted combat suit of muted black, adorned with silver accents that gleamed under the light, emphasizing her role not only as a ranker but as one of the most elite warriors of her world. With a glance, she took in Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji, her gaze resting for a beat longer on the young disciple, who stared far off, his attention fixated on the raging battle beyond. She raised an eyebrow, lips pursed in mild annoyance as she asked, "Why have I been summoned? You know my time is precious." Bong Me-Eon inclined her head respectfully, but the woman''s sharp gaze caught the weariness beneath her eyes. Bong Me-Eon glanced at Song Woo-Ji, then answered, "My disciple suggested calling for top-tier reinforcements. He''s¡­ convinced that we''ll need every ounce of power we can muster for this fight." The woman''s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Song Woo-Ji. The kid didn''t say a word, his attention riveted on Volk in the distance. She let out a sigh, half a sneer pulling at her lips. "This is the famous new disciple of my disciple?" Her voice held an edge of disbelief mixed with disdain, as if he were hardly worth her notice. She turned, eyes settling on the battlefield. It was a scene of carnage, yet the clash between the armored man and Volk held her interest. Volk''s ferocity was undeniable, and he had yet to be fully defeated, even by an S-class opponent. She crossed her arms, watching with faint interest as Volk rose higher into the sky. But as the Orc leader rocketed back toward the ground, the armored man met him mid-descent, driving his fist into Volk''s face and sending him hurtling into the earth. The impact sent a shockwave across the landscape. The middle-aged woman rolled her eyes. "So I''m here for¡­ this?" She sighed, folding her arms and glancing to the side, clearly impatient. "Honestly, why did you think I was needed? That man''s handling himself just fine, and besides, I had other things to do." She tapped her fingers thoughtfully, her tone almost exasperated as she started listing off her priorities. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I was in the middle of shopping. The good boutique only opens once a month, and I need that outfit if I''m going to be forced into another one of those high-society functions." She sniffed, her lips curving downward in distaste at the thought. "Then there''s the bakery down on Fifth¡ªI swear they have the best matcha croissants in town, and they only make a limited batch each day. Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to snag one before they''re all gone?" Her list went on, her tone more annoyed with each item she named. "And don''t get me started on the spa appointment I had lined up. Those specialists are nearly impossible to book. There''s that new jade treatment I''ve been dying to try for weeks. And then¡ª" She let out an exaggerated sigh, tossing a bored glance at the ongoing battle as if it were a minor inconvenience. She shook her head dismissively, casting a final withering look at Bong Me-Eon. "Really, why am I here? It looks like they''re holding their own. I think I should just return and finish my day." But as she turned away, a quiet voice broke through her musing. Song Woo-Ji, who had remained silent all this time, spoke in a low, trembling tone. "We need to leave." The fear in his voice cut through the air like a knife. The woman froze, her confident expression faltering as she glanced back at him. Bong Me-Eon stared at her disciple in surprise, eyes widening at the stark terror in his face. Song Woo-Ji''s voice was unsteady as he continued, staring out at the horde and the ominous figure of Volk. "If we don''t leave¡­ we''re all going to die." His words were barely a whisper, yet they echoed with certainty. The middle-aged woman frowned, still skeptical. Her gaze swept over the battlefield, where A-class rankers rained down magic upon the horde, their power crackling across the skies and pounding Volk''s army of Ogres and Orcs into the dirt. The sheer force seemed enough to annihilate anything in its path. She could see no reason why they wouldn''t emerge victorious, especially with so many powerful rankers united in their cause. The ranks of the Orcs and Ogres were dwindling, their forces shattered by the relentless onslaught of magic. And yet¡­ something gnawed at her, a growing unease that lingered even as she watched the scene unfold. Then she saw it. Far below, Volk''s hand lifted, fingers curling into a tight, unyielding fist. And with a terrifying speed, his massive arm shot upward, his furious eyes locking onto the armored man as his fist hurtled toward him with a force that could shatter mountains. The middle-aged woman''s face paled, shock and disbelief crossing her features. The middle-aged woman''s eyes widened in horror, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Did that Orc horde leader just become¡­ an SSS-Class monster? Comparable to an SSS-Class ranker like¡­ me? In an instant?" Her words hung in the air, laced with disbelief and alarm, her voice echoing slightly amidst the distant roar of battle. Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji stood beside her, transfixed, faces pale as they too felt the terrifying shift in Volk''s power. It was like a dark storm swelling in the air, crushing down on everyone present with a presence so intense it felt like the ground itself might buckle beneath it. Just then, Volk''s fist came crashing down, aimed at the armored man who barely evaded, the ground exploding where Volk''s fist met earth. KABOOM! A violent shockwave ripped through the battlefield, its impact cascading outward like a massive tidal wave. The sheer force was so immense it rolled through the field, sending class A rankers and weaker Orcs alike flying back like leaves in a storm. The wave expanded outward, spreading relentlessly, the tremors climbing the distant buildings, and nearly reaching where Bong Me-Eon, Song Woo-Ji, and the middle-aged woman watched from afar. They had never thought that it would turn out this way, they had never thought than a simple Orc would become Ogre, and an Ogre that is a comparable to a peak A rank would jump instantly into becoming an SSS rank monster! Chapter 159 - 159: NUCLEAR ECHO BOMB The armored man wasn''t about to wait to see what Volk would do next. He clenched his teeth, fear spiking as he activated every boost his futuristic armor could muster. With a blast, he launched himself into the air, speeding away with all the power his suit allowed. His mind raced as fast as his body, calculating every possibility of survival, every counterattack. But no plan seemed feasible. This wasn''t the same monster horde leader he''d encountered moments before; now, the Ogre was now something beyond reason. Meanwhile, Volk simply stood there, towering over the battlefield, his eyes blazing with a fierce, unyielding confidence as he watched the armored man flee. Volk''s hulking form radiated power, his body almost thrumming with the raw energy that pulsed around him. The ground where he had struck still smoldered, a crater spreading wider and deeper with each passing second, cracks snaking outward. From the rooftop, Song Woo-Ji''s gaze remained locked on Volk, his face ashen. There was something hauntingly familiar about this overwhelming presence, something that dug into his soul with a primal terror he couldn''t name. It was as if some shadow from a hollow-forgotten earlier memory had clawed its way back, whispering dread into every corner of his mind. Back on the battlefield, where Volk had smashed the ground, the earth began to pulse, spreading in a sandy brown, circular shockwaves. At first, they were small and faint, noticeable only to those nearby. But then another wave followed, wider and faster. Another came, growing larger and stronger each time. The pulses rippled outwards, each one more powerful than the last, as if the very ground itself were breathing in time with Volk''s fury. The armored man, speeding across the landscape like a desperate comet, glanced back over his shoulder, a chill settling into his bones as he took in the scene. He hadn''t expected this. Never could he have imagined that the monster horde leader would ascend to an SSS-Class entity in mere seconds. Now, there was only one option left¡ªrun, and pray it was enough. Yet the further he ran, the more a cold dread crept into the back of his spine. At first, it was subtle, a faint shiver across his skin. But with each stride, it deepened, crawling up his spine like ice. His instincts screamed at him to flee faster, yet no matter how far he pushed himself, the chill only grew, gnawing at his core, overwhelming his senses. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Finally, just as the fear grew unbearable, he felt it¡ªa shockwave. KABOOM! The blast hit him like a wall, stopping him dead in his tracks, his armor rattling with the force. He stumbled, thrown off balance as the ground beneath him trembled from the impact. Soon, a trail of blood could be seen where his body lay. ¡­ Back on the field, the horde of Orcs and Ogres had ceased their assault. The strange energy radiating from Volk''s power resonated through them like a distant, low hum, like an unsettling presence that made even the most battle-hardened warriors hesitate. Their gaze turned to Volk, then to the humans before them, a strange silence settling between the two sides. The human rankers, too, faltered, their attacks waning as they felt the wrongness in the air. It was as if they were all holding their breath, waiting, sensing that something dreadful was about to unfold. And then, the horror began. Without warning, one of the human rankers shuddered, their body trembling violently. The next second, a sickening pop resounded, and the ranker''s body erupted into a bloody spray, chunks of flesh and bone scattering across the battlefield. Another followed, then another. Each burst was met with screams as human rankers exploded one by one, like fragile vessels shattering under unbearable pressure. "HUH-" "WHAT IS GOI- "NOOOO-" Blood rained across the field, painting the ground in a crimson horror, the scene devolving into a grotesque display of death and carnage. The remaining humans, paralyzed with fear, could do nothing but watch as their comrades were torn apart by the unseen force. Volk''s allies¡ªthe Orcs and Ogres¡ªstared, both horrified and awe-struck. The display of power was beyond anything they had ever witnessed, a level of cruelty that even they, in all their savagery, had never imagined. As the grisly spectacle of rupturing human rankers drew to an end, silence gripped the battlefield. Every Orc and Ogre turned their eyes toward Volk, standing like a dark titan, towering over the bloody chaos. For a moment, they just stared, taking in the absolute destruction he had wrought. And then, as if compelled by some primal impulse, Volk slammed his chest¡ªonce, twice, and again, his fists pounding like war drums echoing across the ravaged field. "I AM VOLK! I AM THE WARCHIEF!" His voice was like a thunderclap, like a force that violently reverberated through the very bones of his horde. The Orcs and Ogres stood spellbound, looking at him as if they had seen a ghost! A holy ghost! For them, power is everything! This destructive power, this capability, this cruelty! This is the power of the horde! No, not just any horde, their horde! Soon, a chant began to rise from among them, slowly at first, then growing louder, until it was a fevered roar that drowned out every other sound. "WARCHIEF VOLK! WARCHIEF VOLK! WARCHIEF VOLK!" As the chant grew to a deafening crescendo, two towering figures pushed through the mass of cheering Orcs and Ogres. Grashk and Grok''Thar¡ªmassive even among their kind, their muscled forms enhanced by the raw power of the Grum-gar transformation¡ªcame to a halt before Volk, their faces filled with awe and reverence. "VOLK, WARCHIEF," Grashk rumbled, bowing slightly, his voice reverberating with respect. "HOW DO YOU SO STRONG? WHAT SHAMANISTIC ABILITY THAT IS?" Grok''Thar echoed his words, his own massive frame leaning forward, eyes wide with anticipation, as if awaiting a sacred truth. Volk''s mouth twisted into a wide grin, clearly pleased by their admiration. Of course! Who wouldn''t!? He is after all, Volk! Their Warchief! He puffed up his massive chest like a thunder drum, glancing down at his two loyal warriors, his voice booming with pride. "IT''S CALLED NUCLEAR ECHO BOMB, VOLK''S NEW SECRET WEAPON!" He pounded his chest again, each thud resounding like thunder as he basked in the glory of his newfound power. But then, a shadow darkened the sky above them, and Volk''s attention shifted upward. A massive, bone-white figure was descending from the heavens¡ªa Skeletal Bone Dragon, its ghastly wings spread wide, casting an eerie, skeletal silhouette against the cloudy sky. Volk felt this was very familiar, it was similar to the bone dragon of the other system user he had killed! What''s it doing here? There was no hesitation, no slowing as it hurtled downward, as though it were ready to smash through earth itself. With a massive KABOOM! the Skeletal Bone Dragon crashed into the ground, scattering Orcs and Ogres like mere pebbles. Dust and debris exploded in all directions, blinding everyone in the immediate vicinity. Volk shielded his face with one arm, glaring through the settling dust at the creature''s imposing figure as it loomed before him. Suddenly, he sensed where it came from, and when he turned his head towards certain building, his eyes widened. Chapter 160 - 160: Needed to be stopped Meanwhile, on the rooftop far from the battlefield, Song Woo-Ji''s breath came in harsh gasps, his entire body trembling, drenched in cold sweat. It had taken every ounce of his strength to keep his gaze locked on Volk''s monstrous form from afar, the terrible power he''d witnessed making his stomach twist with dread. Finally catching his breath, he looked at his master with pleading eyes. "Master, we need to go. Let''s leave now. I made that monster occupied for the moment¡­ let''s use this chance to escape." But his words only met with the stubborn, unyielding stare of the middle-aged woman, her face sharp and calculating as she kept her focus trained on Volk''s distant silhouette. She gave her head a slight shake. "No, Song Woo-Ji. We cannot leave this battlefield just yet." Her tone was firm, carrying a weight of experience that was impossible to question. "I saw the true nature of the monster''s attack¡­ the more targets it hits, the more powerful it becomes." Her voice grew grave, her gaze darkening as she continued, "And now that he''s achieved SSS-Class status¡­ if we don''t stop him here, he''ll tear through everything. Imagine him coming down on a city¡ªa comet of destruction hitting a crowd of people. "It would only amplify his power, multiplying the devastation tenfold. Even if all of SSS rankers in this world came together, all of us would be turned to this if attacked us while we are among the majority¡­" The thought seemed to momentarily stun both Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji, each of them picturing the unimaginable carnage monster horde leader could unleash if he reached civilian areas. She clenched her fists, her expression hardening. "We have to make our stand here, even it mean sacrificing my life." Then, turning to Song Woo-Ji, she spoke with a commanding resolve. "You, however, must leave." She nodded at Bong Me-Eon, who was already weaving a spell, forming a portal that shimmered with a swirling, blue energy. The middle-aged woman continued, "Go, Song Woo-Ji. Report what you''ve seen to the other SSS-Class rankers. They need to know exactly what we''re dealing with." Bong Me-Eon''s face softened, yet his tone left no room for argument. "Go, disciple. Grandmaster has opened the portal for you. This information is crucial." Song Woo-Ji opened his mouth, almost as if to protest, but the words died on his lips as he met their resolute stares. The moment was surreal. His heart thundered in his chest, a feeling of foreboding swelling within him as he took a shaky step backward, his gaze lingering on his master and grandmaster. And then, in a flash of blue light, they were gone, disappearing into the chaos, leaving him staring in stunned silence at the empty space where they had stood. ¡­ As they pressed forward across the vast, blood-soaked battlefield, the middle-aged woman moved with swift, measured steps, her every move filled with a sense of practiced control. Her sharp eyes swept across the battlefield, analyzing the landscape, assessing the scattered ranks of Orcs and Ogres that dotted the terrain. The battlefield was thick with the scent of blood and ash, a haze of smoke rising from scorched earth where remnants of fallen warriors lay silent. Bong Me-Eon kept close at her side, his eyes darting warily from one dark figure to the next. "Alright, we need a clear plan," she muttered, voice calm but tense as her eyes stayed focused on the distant shape of Volk towering over the remnants of the battlefield. "That monster horde leader... we''ll need to account for his strength, speed, and that Echo Bomb ability of his. One wrong step, and we''ll be among the fallen. But I have three ways to approach this¡­" "Three approaches?" Bong Me-Eon suggested, his gaze sharp as he waited for her thoughts. "We can devise three strategies and test his responses as we go." The middle-aged woman gave a curt nod. "Yes. I have three approaches in mind, though each one has its risks." She took a steadying breath, mind already working through the calculations. "First," she began, "we focus on containment. We surround Volk and his elite warriors, isolate him from the main horde, and force him into a smaller battlefield. This minimizes the damage his Echo Bomb can inflict on others." Her fingers tightened into a fist as she spoke. "But there''s a risk: if he breaks through our perimeter before we''re ready, he could unleash chaos within our own ranks." S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bong Me-Eon nodded thoughtfully. "We''d need an advanced barrier spell, something large and flexible enough to encircle him but strong enough to absorb any blast." She pursed her lips. "Exactly. It would drain an immense amount of mana, but if we manage it right, it might give us the edge we need to keep his power focused in one direction, not on the masses." She paused, considering. "Second approach: We split the horde''s attention. If we divide his forces, sending a small group of elite rankers to strike key points within the Orc and Ogre lines, we might be able to weaken their morale. If his warriors are distracted and scattered, the monster horde leader himself might become vulnerable." Bong Me-Eon''s brow furrowed as he considered this. "So a feint? Draw him out while we divide his focus?" She nodded, a faint smile appearing. "Exactly. It would take precision, careful coordination, but if the monster horde leader is anything like other leaders of his kind, he''ll want to personally crush anyone who dares disrupt his ranks." Her voice hardened. "That way, we pull him into a position where his attacks become predictable, and we cut down his range of destruction." After a thoughtful pause, Bong Me-Eon chimed in. "What about a direct assault, a high-powered, concentrated blast at his exact location?" The middle-aged woman''s eyes gleamed, her lips tightening with grim resolve. "That''s our third approach." She folded her arms, her expression like stone. "A large-scale magical attack, something that would break his defenses and perhaps even slow him down. But here''s the challenge: it will require perfect timing and an intense, concentrated amount of magic. "One miscalculation, and the spell could lose effectiveness, or worse, it could backfire and send chaos into our own forces." Bong Me-Eon nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "So the idea is to force him into one position with the first two approaches, and then strike with the final blow?" "Exactly," she replied, her voice colder than the winds blowing across the battlefield. "We''ll need to work quickly and without hesitation. Containment, distraction, and finally¡­ total annihilation." They traveled in tense silence for a moment, each processing the complexity of the tactics they were about to implement. Around them, the battlefield stretched wide, a vast expanse filled with the remnants of prior battles, the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and metal. The distant cries of Orcs and Ogres filled the air, along with the faint roars of the lingering human rankers desperately holding their ground. In this grim scene, Volk''s towering figure loomed ahead, a dark shape radiating menace and raw power. "Bong Me-Eon," she murmured, eyes narrowing as she began to gather mana, the air around her sparking with faint traces of energy. "Prepare the large-scale spell for when we''re ready. I''ll take care of the horde leader if you can manage the main force." Bong Me-Eon nodded, his expression steady, though his eyes were alight with the spark of battle. "Understood, Grandmaster." His hands moved, tracing the intricate patterns of spell-casting, his face set with a steely resolve. But just then, Volk''s hulking form shifted, his head turning slowly, as if he could sense their presence. In an instant, his eyes zeroed in on them across the battlefield. The middle-aged woman''s expression turned grim. "He sensed us," she muttered. Her hand flexed, a surge of magical ranker power pooling at her fingertips. Volk''s enormous frame began to approach, his strides purposeful and deliberate, cutting through the battlefield like a juggernaut. The ground trembled beneath each step he took, and the Orcs and Ogres quickly fell back to make way, eyes widening in awe as they watched their Warchief charge. For what seemed an eternity, Volk bore down on them, and the woman and Bong Me-Eon prepared themselves, drawing in deep breaths, readying their attacks as his monstrous figure approached. Her mind raced, her senses heightened as she readied herself to strike with everything she had. Every plan, every strategy, was measured, calculated to take him down at the first moment he was close enough to hit. But then, when Volk was just strides away, towering over them with an aura that made the very air seem to hum with energy, he¡­ swept past them, and they noticed that his eyes were fixed on something¡ªor someone¡ªelse. They stood frozen, blinking in disbelief as he passed by, seemingly oblivious to their presence, his massive form cutting through the battlefield like a storm with a purpose they hadn''t anticipated. In a booming voice that echoed across the field, Volk''s words cut through the clamor of the battlefield: "SYSTEM USER, HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?!" Chapter 161 - 161: Running game As Volk thundered past them, the tremors from his enormous steps echoed in Bong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman''s bones. They exchanged a quick, stunned look, confusion etched into their faces. His words hung in the air and pang in their heads: "SYSTEM USER, HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?!" The middle-aged woman''s sharp gaze narrowed, suspicion flaring. "System user?" she muttered, her voice filled with a steely edge. Bong Me-Eon''s mind raced, her thoughts darting back to the earlier said that there was a clash between Song Woo-Ji and Volk. Her memory snapped to the Death Ball, the moment of eerie, unnatural energy that had surged through the battlefield. Was Song Woo-Ji somehow tied to this mystery? Did this monster horde leader was responsible of making Song Woo-Ji be in a state of temporary date? But the questions were quickly buried beneath her instincts. Whatever was driving Volk, he was charging ahead, deeper into the battlefield, ignoring them. Bong Me-Eon gritted her teeth, a surge of relief mixing with the sharp edge of their strategy now unfolding¡ªno need to isolate Volk if he was already distracted. Her master, however, was one step ahead. Without a moment''s pause, the middle-aged woman had already turned, her keen eyes fixed on Volk''s hulking frame, retreating into the smoke. Determination sparked in her eyes as she began to chant, her words steeped in ancient, dark energy that seemed to seep into the very fabric of the battlefield around them. "Kraal''a Morbis!" Her voice carried through the air, the spell woven with the heavy weight of necromancy. As her words resonated, a jagged crack splintered the ground around her, dark energy swirling from the depths. From the earth, skeletal hands burst forth¡ªan army of bony, clawed fingers that lunged toward Volk. The skeletal claws reached up, trying to latch onto his legs, their bones creaking as they stretched. Volk slowed, gritting his teeth as he stomped down, crushing the bony limbs beneath his feet with a sound like shattering glass. Yet the woman''s spell was relentless. "Vra''khael Tenevos!" The second incantation shot through the air like a whip. From her outstretched hand, shadows condensed into a spear of swirling darkness, sharp as an obsidian blade, and launched toward Volk. It struck his side, the impact rippling through his armor-like skin and embedding with an eerie, sickening hiss. A pulse of necrotic energy spread through his flesh, tendrils of darkness clawing at his essence, but he growled, ripping the spear free and tossing it to the side. His steps only faltered briefly before he pressed forward again, an angry snarl twisting his features. The woman''s expression hardened, her voice deepening as she chanted again. "Mael''mirga Phanlark!" At her command, a massive wave of deathly energy rolled forward, thick and fog-like, sweeping across the ground. The fog carried with it the essence of decay, lapping at Volk''s form, its sickly energy grasping at him like thousands of ghostly tendrils. Volk''s steps grew heavier, his vision blurred for a moment as the fog wrapped around his legs and reached up toward his chest, dragging at him, slowing him. However, with a furious roar, he dispelled the fog, his massive arms tearing through the deathly haze like a storm breaking through clouds. Unfazed, she continued. "Mortegha Nagh''mor!" This time, skeletal hounds, born of shadows and bone, erupted from the ground. Their hollow eyes glowed with an unearthly green light as they snarled, baring rows of jagged fangs as they circled Volk. They darted toward him, gnashing at his heels, their bites leaving trails of decay along his skin. Volk snarled, slamming his fists down on the hounds, each hit causing bones to shatter and scatter across the ground, yet more hounds emerged from the ground, lunging at him in a relentless assault. Each strike he made scattered their forms, but the relentless onslaught slowed him, momentarily halting his advance. And finally, her voice crescendoed with a final, powerful spell. "Drak''vaul Terenos!" With her words, the very earth trembled, and then, a colossal skeletal dragon¡ªan echo of death itself¡ªrose from the ground behind her. Its hollow eyes glinted with a sinister glow as it let out a deep, resonant roar that shook the battlefield. With a single, powerful lunge, the skeletal dragon swept forward, slamming into Volk with a force that rattled the earth. The impact was tremendous, Volk staggering back under the force of the creature''s assault, his fists coming up to defend himself as the dragon''s claws raked against his chest and neck. For a few heart-stopping seconds, it appeared the dragon might drive him back, might force him down. But Volk, filled with a fury that seemed to radiate from his very core, roared and lashed out with his massive fists, breaking through the dragon''s bony form with sheer, brutal power. Bones shattered, splintering and scattering, and the dragon''s form crumbled into dust under his strength. The attacks had halted him for moments, seconds at best, but they were enough to earn the middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon a few precious breaths. But then Volk turned, his gaze alight with a fiery rage, his eyes zeroing in on them. His face twisted with fury, a growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he raised a massive fist in their direction. "YOU DARE DISTRACT VOOOLK?!" he thundered, his voice a deafening roar that seemed to echo across the battlefield, reverberating in their bones. His stance radiated menace, his muscles tense and coiled as he prepared to charge, his rage igniting his every move. ¡­ Volk''s eyes glinted with a savage light as he cast a disdainful glance at Bong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman. His massive hand reached toward them, fingers stretching like talons as his shadow loomed over Bong Me-Eon. She froze for a split second, feeling the raw heat and menace of his enormous form closing in. But in that same heartbeat, the middle-aged woman''s hands were already weaving through the air, her voice a sharp command: "Drak''tar Vel''thora!" A wave of spectral chains erupted from the ground, snapping and coiling around Volk''s arm like the tendrils of some ghastly creature. They anchored into his thick skin, clawing at his flesh, and tugged him back, causing him to snarl in frustration. The chains held just long enough for Bong Me-Eon to snap back to her senses and dart away, narrowly escaping the crushing grasp that would''ve shattered her bones. Volk sneered, wrenching his arm free with a mighty heave that scattered the chains like wisps of smoke. His lip curled into a smirk, with the corner of his mouth twitching with something between amusement and contempt as he muttered, his voice a low rumble: "WEAKLINGS... VOLK SHOULDN''T WASTE TIME WEAKLINGS¡­ TWO OF THEM WON''T BE A THREAT IN THE FUTURE¡­ UNLIKE SYSTEM USER¡­" His gravelly tone faded, as if he couldn''t even spare the energy to finish his thought, and his gaze turned, locking onto a distant figure: Song Woo-Ji. A dark smile twisted across Volk''s face as he sized up his next target, his eyes narrowing with the thrill of the hunt. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His massive body tensed, like a coiled spring, and then he burst forward in a ferocious sprint, each stride sending shockwaves through the ground. Boulders shattered under his weight as he tore across the battlefield, his intent singular, his gaze fixed on Song Woo-Ji. Chapter 162 - 162: Nick of time On the battlefield''s edge, cloaked in the eerie silence that stretched between clashes and carnage, Song Woo-Ji stood rigid. He felt the weight of his duty pressing down on his back as he stared at the portal his master''s master, the middle-aged woman, had conjured. Its swirling colors pulsed with a tantalizing promise of safety, its glow a silent invitation to leave, to escape to a world unburdened by bloodshed and terror. However, something heavier than fear gripped him¡ªguilt. It was like having swarm of flesh eating bugs at his insides, demanding he turn away from that portal, yet he could barely tear his gaze from it. His breaths came in shallow, ragged draws. He was alive because of his master''s quick actions and, though he was a system user, he hadn''t even used his trump card. A skill he had reserved for the worst case, hidden deep within him, an option he had hoped he would never have to use. His mind buzzed with indecision as he whispered to himself, "Should I... should I use it?" The words were barely a breath, and he clamped his mouth shut, as though speaking aloud might shatter the final slivers of his resolve. The portal flickered, and in its heart, he glimpsed a distant city street bathed in peaceful, golden light¡ªa quiet promise of respite. Then, as if to mock his hesitation, a faint chime echoed in his ears, chilling and unbidden: Ding! || Would you like to use the DEATH MONARCH STATE? || Song Woo-Ji froze, his mind spiraling as he felt the screen''s ominous glow settle before his vision. His fingers trembled, his thumb hovering over the choice, though he hesitated to press it. He drew in a deep breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. Below, in the heart of chaos, the monster horde leader was unstoppable as he surged forward, with a tidal wave of raw fury tearing across the buildings. He didn''t slow, even as the middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon stood defiantly in his path. Volk''s stride was unstoppable, each footfall sending seismic tremors through the earth that thundered with his approach. THOOM! THOOM! THOOM! sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Bong Me-Eon and her master exchanged a single glance¡ªa pact formed in that one look. The middle-aged woman''s hand shot up, weaving intricate sigils in the air. As her fingers moved, pale green lights swirled, coalescing into a whip of necrotic energy that crackled through the air like a whip. CRACK! It lashed out, striking Volk across the chest with an explosive burst of dark magic. But Volk barely acknowledged it. With a growl of annoyance, "GRAAAAAARRGGHH!!" he swatted the spell aside, and the whip dispersed into harmless wisps that evaporated in the air. Bong Me-Eon wasn''t deterred. She spread her arms, summoning a rain of searing firebolts that burst around Volk like an inferno. Each impact shook the ground, casting plumes of flame that seemed to consume his massive form. But as the smoke cleared, Volk remained standing, his skin barely singed. He grinned, and there was a feral gleam of madness sparking in his eyes as he pressed forward, ignoring their spells like mere raindrops. Song Woo-Ji could see the fierce determination in his master''s movements, and yet, his fear festered. His gaze lingered on the safe street beyond the portal, the quiet life he could slip away into. But his master''s battle cries echoed across the battlefield, anchoring him in place. Then, the silence broke as Volk''s thunderous voice reverberated across the plains, sending chills down his spine. His words were guttural, deep, primal, each syllable laced with fury as he finally addressed the retreating pair. "YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE VOLK! YOU THINK HIDING IN SHADOWS SAVE YOU?" Volk''s voice boomed, his fists pounding against his chest with each declaration, sounding like massive drums. "VOLK WILL FIND YOU. EVEN IF YOU HIDE BEHIND MOUNTAINS, IN DEEPEST CAVES! VOLK WILL BURN VILLAGES, SMASH YOUR CASTLES, TURN YOUR FIELDS TO ASH!" The middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon exchanged a look, and she began to gather her energy again, casting another complex spell. Dark clouds rolled overhead, forming in response to her summoning. With a sweep of her hand, bolts of dark lightning rained down on Volk. KRA-KOOM! The lightning struck him square in the chest, sending waves of necrotic energy rippling across his body. Yet he pressed on, undeterred, his face twisted in a cruel smile as he shrugged off each blow with terrifying ease. His eyes narrowed, his attention snapping toward the distant figure of Song Woo-Ji. He raised his voice again, aiming it directly at the young system user as if sensing his fear. "AND YOU¡ªSYSTEM USER. YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE VOLK''S WRATH? I KNOW YOUR KIND! LITTLE MEN HIDING BEHIND THEIR TOYS! YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM VOOOOLK!!!" The words rattled Song Woo-Ji to his core. How did Volk know? How did he know he was a system user? The raw, venomous hatred in Volk''s voice slashed through Song Woo-Ji''s soul, ripping at the delicate veil of safety he had wrapped around himself. He stepped back instinctively, his body''s natural instinct for survival urging him to flee. But Volk wasn''t finished. He pointed toward the sky, his bellow echoing across the battlefield, louder than the thunder that rumbled above. "VOLK BREAK CITIES! TEAR DOWN TOWERS! VOLK TURN YOUR PEOPLE TO ASH, ONE BY ONE, UNTIL YOU HAVE NOWHERE LEFT TO HIDE FROM VOOOLK''S WRATH!!!" Bong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman fought to stop his approach, but it was no use. Every spell, every weapon, every shield they threw in his way crumbled under the relentless force of his might. He would brush their attacks aside or endure them, shrugging off blows that would have leveled armies. It was as though he were fueled by pure hatred, a walking storm that tore through everything in its path. And with every step closer he came, Song Woo-Ji''s resolve began to waver. He stared into the depths of the portal, a silent temptation calling him back to safety. But Volk''s voice haunted him, taunting, threatening, seething with the promise of destruction. He could see, in vivid clarity, the horrors that would follow if he ran¡ªhis homeland burning, innocents torn asunder, cities crumbling beneath the unstoppable wrath of this monster. Sweat poured down his face, his hands trembling as he clutched his weapon. His gaze flickered toward the portal again, and then back to the advancing figure of Volk, who smashed through the battlefield as if it were a mere playground. Then, Volk spoke again, his voice dripping with malice: "YOU CAN RUN, SYSTEM USER. BUT YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM VOLK FOREVER. VOLK WILL FIND EVERY CITY, EVERY LAND, UNTIL BREATHE LAST UNDER VOLK''S FOOT! VOLK WILL NOT REST. VOLK NOT STOP!" His final shout shook the heavens: "VOLK MUST END SYSTEM USER!" The threat was a sledgehammer against Song Woo-Ji''s final vestiges of doubt. He felt something shift within him, a steel resolve rising where fear had taken root. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and steadied himself. In that single moment of silence, he allowed himself to fully comprehend what stood before him¡ªa monster who would stop at nothing, a beast who would hunt him to the ends of the earth if he ran. Running meant condemning the innocent to Volk''s wrath. He knew that now. His eyes snapped open, alight with determination. The portal still glowed faintly in his periphery, its invitation still there. But he did not turn toward it. His grip on his weapon tightened, and he looked out over the battlefield where his master fought valiantly to buy him time. And now, his heart no longer wavered. The choice was made. Volk continued to storm forward, unaware of the newfound resolve building within Song Woo-Ji. This time, as he watched Volk, it was not with fear but with grim resolve. The decision was made. He would stand and fight. Chapter 163 - 163: Capture Amidst the battlefield''s chaos, Volk''s towering form loomed like a dark monolith, standing impervious and unyielding. His bellowing laughter filled the air, mocking the desperation etched on his opponents'' faces. The middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon moved with unison born of years of training, flinging spell after spell at Volk, desperately trying to break through his hardened defenses. The ground trembled beneath them as each spell struck with resounding force, sending shards of rock and sparks of energy ricocheting around them. But for every inch they gained, Volk advanced two more, his massive frame absorbing their attacks with a chilling, unaffected resilience. The middle-aged woman gritted her teeth, pushing herself harder, feeling the strain claw at her energy reserves. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Her voice rose above the din, "Sarcha Volfoareus!" chanting incantations that twisted the very air with darkness and eldritch light. Spectral chains emerged, coiling around Volk''s limbs in an attempt to bind him. Shadows coalesced into sharp-edged tendrils that shot toward him, seeking to pierce and hold. Her hands blazed with fire, casting streaks of flame that spiraled and wove around her dark magic, forming a vicious storm aimed at the towering Orc leader. "DIE, BEAST!" she spat, her voice hoarse from the relentless chanting. The spellwork was flawless, every incantation precisely executed, yet Volk only laughed, a guttural sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. He moved with surprising agility for his massive frame, twisting his body to evade the worst of the flames. And as one spectral chain coiled around his arm, he jerked it forward, shattering it with brute force. His tusked grin grew, and his eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating malice as he glanced between the two mages, sizing them up like prey. Suddenly, with a maneuver that was almost too quick to track, Volk lunged, his massive arm sweeping across the battlefield in a brutal arc. Bong Me-Eon''s reflexes kicked in, her eyes widening as she barely managed to throw up a protective barrier. However, the sheer force of Volk''s attack cracked the barrier like glass, sending her stumbling back. Before she could react, his arm shot out, his fingers curling around her torso with an iron grip. A gasp of horror escaped her lips as she felt the unyielding pressure of his fingers closing in. Her heart pounded, fear clawing at her throat as she struggled in vain against his hold. The middle-aged woman''s eyes widened in alarm, her fierce expression breaking for the first time as she watched her disciple trapped in the clutches of the monstrous horde leader. Panic surged within her pumping blood vessels, a visceral, agonizing panic that spurred her into action. "Release her!" she roared, her voice laced with desperation. She unleashed another barrage of spells, each one crafted with deadly precision. Dark tendrils of energy lashed out, snapping at Volk''s arm, slicing through the air with crackling intensity. Bolts of necrotic fire burst forth from her hands, streaking toward his fingers in an attempt to sear them open. The air itself seemed to thicken with magic, every inch saturated with her raw fury and power. But Volk merely shifted Bong Me-Eon, holding her directly in front of him like a living shield. The middle-aged woman froze, her heart pounding as she realized her disciple was now in the line of fire. She faltered, her spells weakening mid-flight, dissipating into harmless sparks before they even touched Volk. "Clever girl," he sneered, his voice dripping with mocking contempt. He watched her struggle, relishing her anguish as she faltered, caught between her need to save Bong Me-Eon and the impossibility of attacking without endangering her. The middle-aged woman tried to muster another spell, but her energy was flagging. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her vision blurring at the edges. She had pushed herself to the brink, expended nearly everything in her desperate attempt to free her disciple. Her shoulders sagged, and a cold, sinking realization crept into her chest. Volk''s laughter echoed again, deep and thunderous. He looked down at Bong Me-Eon, his grin widening as he leaned closer, his breath hot and foul against her face. The cruel glint in his eyes spoke of the pain he was about to inflict, the utter disregard for her life as nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game. He turned his gaze back to the middle-aged woman, and with a voice dripping with malice, he taunted her. "WHAT IF¡­" he growled, drawing out each word, savoring the dread in her eyes. "WHAT IF VOLK PINCHED HER?" The threat hung heavy in the air, sending a cold chill down the middle-aged woman''s spine. She could only watch, helpless, as Volk''s fingers began to close, his grip tightening around Bong Me-Eon''s fragile form. Bong Me-Eon''s face contorted in agony, her breaths coming in short, pained gasps as she felt the pressure build. Her ribs creaked under the strain, each breath a struggle as the vise around her tightened. The middle-aged woman staggered forward, her hands trembling as she tried to summon something, anything, that could save her disciple. However, the world around her was spinning, her energy drained, her strength nearly spent. She could only watch, horror-stricken, as Volk''s fingers pressed down, inching ever closer to crushing the life from Bong Me-Eon. And then¡ª SHRAK! A searing darkness cleaved through the battlefield, slicing through Volk''s wrist with surgical precision. The impact was immediate, a violent flash of black energy that seemed to eat away at his flesh, as though death itself had materialized to sever his grasp. His hand, still clutching Bong Me-Eon, separated from his arm, tumbling through the air before crashing to the ground. Bong Me-Eon collapsed as Volk''s grip released her, her body wracked with pain but free. She scrambled back, gasping, her hands instinctively clutching her bruised ribs. The middle-aged woman rushed to her side, pulling her back further as she held her tightly, her face a mask of worry and relief. Volk staggered back, his severed arm a ghastly sight, black blood pouring from the stump in thick, steaming rivulets that scorched the earth below. His face twisted into a snarl, his eyes blazing with a wrath that was both fierce and unrestrained. GRRRRRRR!! He clutched his stump, letting out a bellow of rage that resonated through the battlefield, a cry of pain and fury that seemed to shake the heavens. "WHO DARE ATTACK VOLK?!" Chapter 164 - 164: DEATH MONARCH The city loomed in shambles, a smog of death hanging over it like a thick shroud, curling through shattered alleyways and creeping up crumbling walls. The air was heavy with decay, each breath pulling in the rotten stench of the battlefield. And then, in the heart of this carnage, it emerged¡ªa towering figure that seemed to crawl up from the deepest pits of some forsaken abyss. Its skin was a diseased shade of green, stretched taut over its grotesque form, mottled with dark, oily patches of rot that oozed a sickly black ichor. This monstrous undead stood impossibly tall, casting a massive, warped shadow over the surrounding ruins. Its limbs were twisted and unnaturally elongated, ending in skeletal, clawed fingers that scraped and gouged at the earth with each heavy step. Jagged pieces of bone jutted out from beneath its flesh, tearing through the green, necrotic skin in places as though it were barely containing the malignancy festering within. The most horrifying feature was the creature''s head. At the center of its forehead, a single, twisted horn spiral outward, black as midnight and ridged with sharp, jagged edges. Its mouth, filled with rows of broken, rotten teeth, hung open in a perpetual gape. Drool, thick and foul, dripped from its maw, sizzling as it hit the ground with an audible hiss. The creature''s eyes¡ªif they could even be called that¡ªwere hollow pits, deep wells of blackness that seemed to devour the faintest hint of light. Suddenly, its mouth opened wider, the sound a sickening, wet SQUELCH that cut through the city''s silence. From the depths of its throat, a vortex of greenish death energy began to swirl. The air around it seemed to ripple as waves of decay poured into its open mouth from every corner of the city. The energy was drawn from the corpses scattered across the battlefield, seeping out of the ground and the bodies like a rising tide. A thick mist of sickly green and black pooled, spiraling into the creature''s maw, condensing into a writhing orb that pulsed with malice. Then came Volk. He stood massive and hulking, his muscles knotted and bulging with unrestrained power. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the undead abomination before him. This creature wasn''t one of his own. He didn''t recognize it¡ªhe didn''t care to. All he knew was that it dared to stand against him. His recently regrown hand flexed, thick sinews straining, and with a low, rumbling growl, he threw himself at the beast, his feet thundering against the ground as he charged. With a guttural roar, "GRAAAAAAA!!" Volk swung his arm like a hammer, aiming to crush the creature into dust. His fist collided with the undead''s chest, KABAAAMM!! and for a moment, the creature staggered, its form shuddering under the blow. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. However, just as quickly, its head snapped down, those hollow, pitiless eyes staring directly at Volk. The creature opened its mouth wide, and with a revolting GULP, it released a concentrated blast of decaying energy right in his face. FWOOOOOM! The blast hit Volk like a tidal wave, a seething eruption of decay that slammed into him with the force of a boulder, sending him skidding backward. His skin seared under the assault, melting and peeling away in patches. But even as the necrotic energy tore into his flesh, Volk''s body shuddered and mended itself, muscle fibers knitting back together with a painful, twisted resilience. Snarling, Volk lurched forward, undeterred. He hurled himself at the creature again, his massive hands swinging and smashing in an unrelenting barrage. WHAM! CRACK! THUD! His fists landed over and over, each strike reverberating through the broken streets like distant thunder. Yet, every time Volk managed to land a blow, the creature countered with a fresh surge of decaying energy, splattering him with waves of toxic, festering rot. The creature lashed out with one of its long, bony arms, the skeletal claws slicing through the air. Volk barely dodged, but the claws still managed to rake across his shoulder, tearing deep gouges into his flesh. He grunted, biting back the pain as he twisted, bringing his elbow down like a sledgehammer onto the creature''s arm. A sickening CRUNCH echoed as the bone shattered under his blow. But the creature only shuddered, and its fractured arm seemed to realign itself, the bones shifting back into place with a wet, snapping sound. Before he could react, the undead opened its mouth once more, its jaws widening far beyond natural limits. Another orb of death energy gathered, pulsing with a sickly green light, condensing until it was almost blinding. Volk''s eyes widened as the orb swelled, knowing he had no time to dodge. BOOOOM! The blast hit him full-force, sending him flying back, tumbling through the air before he crashed into a crumbling building. Rubble collapsed around him as he staggered to his feet, his skin already mending but his patience wearing thin. Rage twisted across Volk''s face, his chest heaving as he fixed his gaze on the undead monster. He let out a deafening roar, GRRAAAAAAAHH!!! his voice filled with fury as he charged once more. Each time he approached, each time he swung, the creature would counter, blasting him with concentrated blasts of decaying energy. FWASH! BOOM! KRASH! His body was wracked with the relentless assault, chunks of his skin burned and torn away, only to regenerate moments later. His roars grew louder, more feral, as his frustration mounted. Every blow he landed seemed to have little effect, every strike met with another debilitating blast that left him battered, raw, yet still standing. Realization crept in slowly, a gnawing feeling that gripped Volk as he observed the creature''s attacks. It was sparing the two women who lingered nearby, ignoring their presence entirely. This thing¡ªthis abomination¡ªwas not here for them. It was targeting him, focusing all its malice on him alone. And then the pieces began to fall into place, like fractured shards of memory piecing back together. A twisted grin spread across Volk''s face, his fangs glinting under the sickly light cast by the creature''s death energy. His chest swelled as he let out a booming, mocking laugh that echoed across the battlefield. "SYSTEM USER..." he growled, his voice dripping with contempt. "YOU... MAKING VOLK... ANGRY!" The undead abomination paused, as though the words struck something deep within its hollow, soulless form. Chapter 165 - 165: VOLK, STRATEGY Volk''s angry laughter thundered through the smog-drenched battlefield, "GRUAHHAHAHAHA!" rolling through the ruins and broken streets like an unholy drumbeat. His eyes gleamed with a twisted, feral satisfaction as he tracked his target. The two women¡ªBong Me-Eon and her master¡ªdashed through the debris, casting occasional glances over their shoulders as they wove through crumbling alleys and deserted buildings. But Volk didn''t lose sight of them. His towering form barreled forward, his heavy footfalls smashing the cracked earth beneath him, each stride sending shockwaves through the ground. He was relentless, a predator locked onto his prey, and every monstrous fiber in his being was fixed on catching up to them. Behind him, the undead abomination still loomed. Its empty eye sockets remained locked onto him, emitting an eerie greenish glow that seethed with decaying magic. As Volk surged after the women, the creature began to move, its limbs creaking and groaning as though they were about to snap. It lifted a skeletal, clawed arm, and the air around its hand began to shimmer with condensed, sickly green energy. The monster aimed and unleashed a torrent of magical death beams, one after another, the blasts ripping through the ruined cityscape, tearing apart stone walls and sending waves of rubble crashing down. FWOOOOOSH! KA-BOOOM! ZAAAAP! Each beam was a concentrated lance of decaying energy, a weapon that could have obliterated any lesser being. Volk felt the searing heat of the blasts as he narrowly evaded them, his attention still locked on the two fleeing figures. Bong Me-Eon and her master raced through a narrow alley, their breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. They shared a silent glance, both realizing their situation was dire. But as they turned another corner, the undead creature suddenly ceased its assault on Volk, halting its barrage of deadly beams. Its hollow gaze shifted, narrowing in a gesture that was almost contemplative. It was waiting. Volk''s bloodlust flared even hotter as he skidded to a halt. His eyes locked onto the creature, a dark grin twisting his lips. He had finally closed the distance. No more obstacles¡ªjust him and the abomination that dared to challenge him. With a bestial roar, "GRAAAAAAHH!!!" Volk launched himself at the undead monstrosity, his massive fists raised. He swung with all his might, his hand crashing into the creature''s side with the force of a boulder. BOOOOM! The impact was earth-shattering, and the ground beneath them cracked and trembled, sending spider-web fractures sprawling outward. The creature staggered, its decayed body shuddering under the force of Volk''s blow. But as it regained its footing, it unleashed a guttural, hollow hiss, its mouth opening in an unnatural, yawning gape. A fresh surge of death energy erupted from its maw, barreling toward Volk like a tidal wave of decay. FWOOOOOSH! The blast enveloped Volk, wrapping around him in an acidic storm of corrosive energy. His skin blistered, and chunks of flesh melted away, but within moments, his body began to heal, the torn skin and exposed muscle knitting back together in an agonizing process. Undeterred, Volk charged through the blast, emerging from the deadly haze with an enraged bellow. He swung his fists, striking the creature in the ribs with a thunderous blow that sent it reeling back. THUD! CRACK! Bones splintered under his assault, and chunks of rotting flesh sloughed off, revealing patches of exposed bone beneath. The creature retaliated, lifting both of its elongated, skeletal arms and bringing them down in a vicious arc. WHAM! The impact was like a battering ram, slamming into Volk''s shoulders and forcing him to his knees. But he grit his teeth, his muscles bulging as he pushed back against the creature''s weight, slowly rising to his feet even as the undead abomination pressed down with all its might. With a feral snarl, Volk twisted to the side, grabbing hold of one of the creature''s bony arms. He gave a mighty heave, ripping the arm clean off with a sickening CRUNCH. Black ichor spurted from the torn limb, spraying across Volk''s face as he swung the detached arm like a club, battering the creature with its own appendage. SMASH! CRACK! The blows landed with brutal precision, each strike further tearing away at the abomination''s decayed form. But the creature was relentless. It opened its maw wide, and an orb of concentrated death energy began to form, swirling with sickly green and black hues. The orb grew larger, pulsating with raw malice, and with a violent FWOOSH, it shot forward, a condensed missile of necrotic energy aimed straight at Volk''s chest. The blast hit him head-on, the impact sending him flying backward as the searing energy ate away at his flesh. He landed in a heap, his body smoking and scorched, but even as he struggled to rise, his regenerative abilities kicked in, knitting his wounds back together with painful, unnatural speed. Volk pushed himself to his feet, his vision blurring with rage. He could feel his own heartbeat pounding in his skull, a primal rhythm that fueled his anger. With another roar, he charged again, his fists swinging in a brutal flurry of blows. WHAM! BAM! THUD! Each strike was like a hammer, smashing into the creature''s twisted form with relentless force. Chunks of flesh and bone flew with each impact, littering the ground around them. Volk''s strikes grew faster, more frenzied, his muscles straining as he poured every ounce of his strength into the assault. However, no matter how much he tore away, the creature seemed unyielding, its form shifting and reassembling with each blow, as though it were nothing more than a puppet held together by pure malice. The two combatants were locked in a gruesome dance of destruction, each blow they traded sending shockwaves through the ruined cityscape. Buildings crumbled under the impact, debris raining down around them as they clashed in a storm of death and fury. The ground trembled beneath their feet, fissures spreading outward from the sheer force of their battle. And then, as Volk landed a particularly vicious uppercut, the creature staggered back, its twisted form faltering. Its empty gaze flickered, a faint hint of desperation seeping into its hollow eyes. It let out a low, guttural growl, a sound that seemed to resonate with a primal malice. Its maw stretched wide, wider than before, until its entire body seemed to contort, reshaping itself in a horrifying transformation. In a split second, the creature lunged, its mouth gaping as it descended upon Bong Me-Eon and her master. The two women had barely a moment to react, their eyes widening in horror as the creature''s jaws closed around them, swallowing them whole in a single, grotesque motion. GLUUUURP! Volk froze, his fists still raised mid-swing. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His eyes narrowed as he watched the creature, a low, furious growl rumbling from deep within his chest. The realization sank in, a fresh wave of anger coursing through him as he stared at the abomination that had dared to consume his prey. "GRAAAAAAHH!!" Chapter 166 - 166: Revelation Inside the rancid, pulsing belly of the massive zombie, Bong Me-Eon and her master, the middle-aged woman, staggered as the ground beneath them throbbed with unnatural life. Faint greenish light seeped through fleshy veins, illuminating their path in the monstrous tunnel. A mixture of shock and awe rippled across Bong Me-Eon''s face, while her master''s expression was more guarded, her eyes narrowing in grim determination as she took in their surroundings. Just as they were catching their breath, their gazes locked onto an unexpected sight: there, seated within a dense cocoon of necrotic energy, was Song Woo-Ji. His face was taut with focus, eyes half-lidded but blazing with intent as he maneuvered his hands, guiding the creature''s every move from the inside. The two women shared a glance, silently agreeing not to disturb him. Instead, they exchanged whispered words as they watched him, their voices barely audible over the grotesque, wet sounds of the zombie''s moving entrails. "How¡­" The middle-aged woman''s whisper was barely controlled, trembling with shock. "Bong Me-Eon, you never told me your disciple could wield this kind of power." Bong Me-Eon, stunned herself, stammered, "Grandmaster¡­ I-I didn''t know he was capable of this. Truly." The older woman raised a brow, skepticism laced with curiosity. "You don''t know your own disciple''s abilities?" Bong Me-Eon bit her lip, her eyes flickering back to Song Woo-Ji, who appeared completely absorbed, his attention unyielding as he maintained his mental link with the undead behemoth. "It''s¡­ complicated," she murmured, glancing away from Song Woo-Ji and back to her master. Her master crossed her arms, not breaking her intense gaze. "You keep calling him a disciple, yet here he is, harnessing death magic of a caliber that only a handful of us, even among the highest ranks, can even hope to wield. I assumed you''d have picked a disciple with potential. But this... this is beyond mere potential." Bong Me-Eon nodded, hesitating before responding, "I suppose it''s¡­ unusual, yes. I never intended to take on a disciple like him." The older woman''s expression softened slightly, but her scrutiny remained. "Tell me, how did you come by him? A talent like this doesn''t simply materialize." Taking a deep breath, Bong Me-Eon began to recount their first meeting. "It was months ago, during an expedition outside the city boundaries. We were tracking a powerful undead lich, one who was terrorizing villages and leaving devastation in their wake. My team was worn down from days of searching¡­ and then we found him." She paused, recalling the harrowing memory. "Song Woo-Ji appeared out of nowhere, battered and bruised, but his eyes¡­ there was something different in them. Determined. Unyielding. He approached our group, asking for assistance. "But instead of pleading for help, he offered information. Information only someone intimately acquainted with death magic could have known. I was wary, of course. But he¡­ he was compelling." The older woman''s brows knit together, her gaze never leaving Bong Me-Eon. "And this persuaded you to train him? A stranger steeped in death magic?" "Not immediately," Bong Me-Eon admitted. "He wasn''t just any wanderer. There was a depth to him, a knowledge that went beyond simple arcane skill. He''d clearly been through hardships of his own, scars that went deeper than what the eye could see. I couldn''t just turn him away." A long silence followed, broken only by the rumble of the zombie''s internal workings. The grandmaster crossed her arms, finally nodding slightly, a sign of approval or understanding that Bong Me-Eon hadn''t expected. "So, he intrigued you. That''s no small feat. But tell me, have you ever seen him in action like this? Seen him fully unleashed?" Bong Me-Eon shook her head, eyes wide as they flicked back to Song Woo-Ji. "No. Not until now. He was always more¡­ reserved. His power was something I sensed but couldn''t quite pin down." The grandmaster''s eyes narrowed again, assessing. "Perhaps his restraint is because he has something¡­ more. Something beyond even our understanding." "Perhaps," Bong Me-Eon whispered, a newfound respect in her voice as she watched Song Woo-Ji command the undead creature with a focus so intense, she felt she could practically feel the weight of his power radiating outward. They fell silent, watching Song Woo-Ji as he manipulated the massive zombie with a terrifying grace. His hands moved fluidly, each gesture sending a ripple of decay-fueled power through the creature''s massive frame. Outside, Volk roared, his voice echoing even within the creature''s belly, and they could feel the massive undead tremble under his assault. Suddenly, the zombie creature shuddered violently, and the two women stumbled as its hulking arm was blasted apart. They could hear Volk''s fury outside, the earth-shattering sound of his fist meeting decaying flesh, tearing through the creature''s limbs one by one. The older woman tensed, her hands instinctively moving to her weapons. "It won''t hold much longer," she murmured, eyes narrowing as she watched Song Woo-Ji, still deep in concentration, showing no sign of retreating. Bong Me-Eon whispered urgently to her master, "If we''re to escape¡­ we''ll need him to hear us." The older woman nodded and reached out to Song Woo-Ji, attempting to call his name, but it was like speaking to a wall. He was locked within his magic, every ounce of his will focused on maintaining the fight against Volk. As his concentration deepened, the very air inside the zombie grew denser with necrotic energy, waves of dark magic pulsing through its tissue. Bong Me-Eon tried again, louder this time. "Song Woo-Ji! Can you hear us?" Still, he did not respond, his gaze unfocused, a cold sweat breaking over his brow as he clenched his fists. They felt another jarring impact as Volk ripped through the creature''s shoulder, shattering what remained of its decayed muscle and bone. The older woman glanced at Bong Me-Eon, worry etched across her face. "If he doesn''t respond soon, this entire form will crumble, and we''ll be exposed." Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Just then, a low sigh escaped from Song Woo-Ji, a sound of exhaustion as he tightened his grip on the energy that held the undead together. Bong Me-Eon, with newfound urgency, reached out, speaking directly to him, her voice steady but full of concern. "Song Woo-Ji! Look at us!" At last, her voice seemed to reach him. His eyes flickered, breaking from their trance-like focus, and he slowly turned to face them, surprise and confusion dawning on his features as he took in the sight of his master and the grandmaster beside her. "Master... Grandmaster..." His voice was weary, laced with the weight of the battle he was waging outside. Bong Me-Eon took a deep breath, relief flooding her face. "Song Woo-Ji, we''ve been here the whole time. This... this power you''re wielding. It''s incredible, but we need you to stay with us. If this creature falls apart, we need to be ready to escape." The older woman nodded, adding her own words of caution. "Your power is formidable, but remember, the monster Horde leader is relentless. Use this time wisely and if we can help, tell us." Song Woo-Ji''s eyes hardened, his expression shifting to one of fierce resolve as he looked from his master to the grandmaster. Then, turning back toward the pulsing energy outside, he readied himself, gathering what remained of his strength to face the inevitable clash with the monster horde leader. Chapter 167 - 167: Song Woo-Jis decision In the cavernous, pulsating chamber of decaying flesh, Song Woo-Ji''s voice, though strained, broke through the oppressive silence. He inclined his head respectfully toward his master and the grandmaster, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Exhaustion lined his face, but his eyes burned with a determination that neither Bong Me-Eon nor her master had seen before. "This¡­ form," he began, voice wavering slightly as if even speaking required immense effort, "it''s temporary." He winced, bracing himself against a throbbing vein-like structure that pulsed with a sickly green light. "I can''t hold this connection for long. We need to act, and fast. I''ll need your assistance¡­ if we''re going to subdue that monster outside." Bong Me-Eon and the grandmaster exchanged a glance, their faces hardened but hopeful. They waited, ready to hear him out. Song Woo-Ji drew a ragged breath, struggling to keep his voice steady as he outlined the plan. "There are¡­ four strategies. Each one is risky. Each one requires both of you to attack the monster horde leader from the outside while I tear open the flesh of this zombie to give you a clear shot. We have to disrupt his focus, slow him down. Even if it''s just for a moment." The grandmaster frowned, her gaze steely. "Tell us the strategies, Song Woo-Ji. We need specifics." He nodded, gathering his strength, and launched into his explanations, voice faltering but resolute. "First, I''ll create an opening at the ribcage," he said, gesturing toward a faint outline in the decayed flesh where ribs lay beneath. "I''ll split the ribs wide open. Both of you¡ªsend out necromantic pulses into his head. It won''t harm him, but it''ll throw him off. It''s a distraction. And I can use that distraction to regain some control." They nodded, following every word, their expressions set and serious. "For the second," he continued, "I''ll open the chest cavity. A wider space. When I do, focus your spells on his left eye. It''s his weak spot. But only for a moment. He''ll recover quickly, but that moment will give me the chance to reinforce the control spell on this avatar." He paused, his hand trembling. "And the third¡­ I''ll create an exit in the stomach. A rupture. You two will need to attack his right leg¡ªweakening his stance. That will disrupt his balance, and he''ll be easier to destabilize. If it works, I can leverage that instability to make this avatar strike him with all I''ve got." Bong Me-Eon raised an eyebrow, assessing the complexity of the strategy, but nodded. The grandmaster''s face was impassive, unyielding. Song Woo-Ji took another breath, wincing as the exhaustion threatened to overtake him. "Finally¡­ the fourth. I''ll open up the spine. It''ll leave me vulnerable, and I might lose all control over the avatar at that point. "But if you both target his lower back¡ªhis spinal column¡ªI think we can force him to lose momentum. I might be able to contain him here, even if it''s only for a moment." The two women exchanged looks, their respect for him deepening with every word. Once he finished, he closed his eyes for a second, a faint tremor passing over his exhausted face. Then, he opened them again and spoke with the same weighty gravity. "There''s one more thing you need to know¡­ When my transformation reaches its final stage, my body will turn a sickly yellow-green. That''s your cue¡­ to leave." Bong Me-Eon''s eyes widened, confusion and worry mingling on her face. "Why, Song Woo-Ji? We can hold out. We''ve come this far." The grandmaster''s face was just as surprised, her expression hinting at an unspoken dread. "Explain, Song Woo-Ji. Why should we leave?" He hesitated, his gaze dropping. Then, he spoke, voice dropping to a hushed, almost haunted tone. "Because¡­ I will lose control. Entirely. I am using a spell¡ªone that calls forth an ancient spirit bound to this magic, to this very corpse. A spirit cursed to roam between life and death. It is as old as the darkest magics¡­ and it''s dangerous." The room fell silent. The pulsing of the creature''s flesh seemed louder, more ominous. Song Woo-Ji swallowed hard, continuing with difficulty, "Once the transformation is complete, the spirit will take over me. It''s not just an energy I''m channeling. This thing will bind with my mind and body. "It will turn me into something else, something ravenous. Its purpose is purely destruction, and it won''t differentiate between friend and foe." Bong Me-Eon''s heart hammered in her chest. Her voice was barely a whisper. "So¡­ you''re saying you''ll be possessed?" "Yes," he replied quietly. "Completely. Once my skin changes color, I will lose myself to it. I''ll¡­ I''ll become a threat to anyone within range, anyone in sight." His gaze flicked between the two of them. "And I won''t be able to stop it. It will only end when either the spirit is purged or¡­ when my body collapses under its own power." The grandmaster''s face was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of reluctant understanding. "This ancient spirit¡­ is it bound to some artifact or spell?" Song Woo-Ji nodded. "It''s bound by a seal. Something I discovered long ago. It''s an old relic¡ªone that promises unimaginable power in exchange for submission to its curse. "This form I''m controlling is part of that curse¡ªa leftover power and if I lose control, it will be because I''ve drawn too deeply from its magic." Bong Me-Eon clenched her fists, a wave of worry flooding her. She couldn''t fathom how much of this weight her disciple had been carrying alone. Yet as she watched him, so composed and determined even while explaining this dark curse, she knew he was prepared for whatever fate awaited him. The grandmaster nodded slowly, her tone more serious than ever. "This spirit¡­ it feeds on rage and death, doesn''t it?" "Yes," Song Woo-Ji whispered, voice laced with the faintest edge of fear. "Once I''m possessed, it will be relentless. And it''s why¡­ if it comes to that¡­ you must leave, no matter what." A grim silence followed, and both women shared a silent understanding. They''d witnessed curses, faced spirits bound to ancient magics before, but this was different. They had no illusions about the depth of the sacrifice Song Woo-Ji was making in wielding this power. Bong Me-Eon''s eyes softened, though there was a glint of fierce pride. "Then we''ll leave if it comes to that, Song Woo-Ji. We understand the risks." The grandmaster nodded, her gaze sharpening with the same resolve. "We''ve seen warriors with spirits, seen battles that have tested our strength. But I''ve never seen anyone command a force like this with such resilience." She paused, meeting his gaze. "Just know that we will honor your sacrifice¡­ and if this curse consumes you, we''ll find a way to free you. If it means hunting down this spirit for centuries, we will." Song Woo-Ji''s expression softened, grateful but burdened with the knowledge of what lay ahead. He lowered his head, a slight, exhausted smile breaking through. "Thank you¡­ Grandmaster¡­ Master." His voice was heavy with the weight of his words. "Let''s¡­ let''s see this through." They exchanged one final look, determination and trust radiating from all three. And then, without another word, Song Woo-Ji took a deep breath, fingers beginning to glow with a faint, deadly energy. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His skin had already started to pale, a faint greenish tint creeping into his complexion as he prepared for the final stage. "Let''s go," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the battle ahead. "Let''s deal with that disgusting green ogre." Chapter 168 - 168: Beatdown The battlefield echoed with the roars and chaos of a one-sided onslaught. Volk, towering and monstrous, reveled in the destruction as he tore chunks from the undead behemoth before him. His bulging muscles twisted and flexed with each savage strike, his skin glistening with a sickly sheen of sweat and grime as he pushed forward, his primal rage exploding into each blow. "GRAAAAAHHH!" Volk''s guttural scream boomed out, shaking the ground beneath him as his fist connected with the massive arm of the zombie. With a sickening crack, the limb was torn free, black ichor spraying from the gaping wound like a fountain of decay. The fetid stench intensified, mixing with the sulfurous aroma of Volk''s own sweat, creating a nauseating aura that clung to the air. The giant zombie staggered back slightly, a momentary shudder in its massive form. Volk grinned wildly, his yellowed tusks bared as he prepared to lunge again. "OGRAAA!" he snarled, plunging forward, raising his fist high to smash the creature''s skull. His muscles tensed, veins popping like darkened cords against his thick skin as he prepared the next brutal blow. But then, as if in answer to his relentless aggression, the rotting flesh around the zombie''s stomach began to shift and swell. Blackened, decaying tendrils twisted and coiled over the surface, stretching as if something inside was desperately clawing its way out. The flesh tore open, revealing two gaping, oozing wounds. Dark bile seeped out, dribbling like thick tar over the creature''s abdomen. Volk paused, caught off guard by the sight of two familiar silhouettes emerging from within the disgusting openings. The middle-aged woman and Bong Me-Eon stepped forward, the fetid stench swirling around them like a cloak. Their eyes burned with a deadly resolve, and before Volk could react, both unleashed a powerful surge of necromantic energy, spirals of dark light whipping forward with a fierce, otherworldly glow. "Vra''khael Tenevos!" A familiar incantation shot through the air swiftly that sliced the very air that Volk was with. From her outstretched hand, shadows condensed into a spear of swirling darkness, sharp as an obsidian blade, and launched toward Volk. It struck the corner of his, the impact rippling through his armor-like skin on the face and embedding with an eerie, sickening hiss of cut. A pulse of necrotic energy spread through the half of his face, tendrils of darkness clawing at his essence, but he growled, GRAAAAH! regenerating and removing the curse within it instantly! Another one shot through as an unknown dark necromantic energy shot him down! "GRAAAAHHH!" Volk bellowed, stumbling backward. Though the dark energy barely scorched his thick, monstrous hide, it disrupted his rhythm, throwing him off balance. He raised his arm to shield himself, snarling in fury. The zombie seized this brief opening. With a creak of decayed sinew and bone, its remaining arm swung in a swift, brutal arc. WHAM! The impact sent Volk sprawling backward, his massive frame slamming into the ground with a force that shook the battlefield. "GRRRRAAAAAA!" Volk roared, the earth cracking beneath him as he forced himself to his feet, fury blazing in his red-rimmed eyes. He charged forward again, fists clenched, teeth bared in a predatory grin as he prepared to pummel the giant zombie once more. Yet, just as he closed the distance, the zombie''s grotesque torso contorted again. Another revolting tear opened, and the two women emerged once more, their hands glowing with the dark essence of necromantic magic. "Zhrak''tul Morthos!" "Kal''vyr Nox''ara!" "Vael''thra Umbros!" "Thrael''kar Sombreus!" "Nyr''vak Arkanis!" "Dhrav''ek Nethoros!" "Vhlar''kael Erevos!" "Myrr''gath Necros!" "Vorth''kal Tenebrus!" They launched another barrage of spells at him, each bolt of energy a twisted, writhing mass of shadows that disoriented him. "GRRRRRAHHH!" Volk bellowed, swinging his arm wildly, trying to dispel the dark magic that clung to him like a swarm of angry wasps. But the spells created enough of a distraction that the zombie''s arm whipped out again, hitting him squarely in the chest with a force that sent him careening backward. CRASH! Volk''s massive body skidded across the rocky ground, furrows of dust and debris flying up in his wake as he ground to a halt, barely avoiding a jagged rock by mere inches. "OGRAAA!" he screamed in rage, pushing himself up. Every inch of his muscles screamed with fury as he charged forward, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked. He lunged at the zombie again, launching himself with ferocity that seemed impossible for a creature of his size. But as he closed in, he felt a sharp prickling along his skin¡ªa warning, the faint pulse of necromantic magic brewing just ahead. From the zombie''s torn-open belly, the two women emerged once more, their hands raised, spells already forming at their fingertips. They launched another barrage, filling the air with dark, crackling energy. The blasts hit him with relentless precision, momentarily blinding him with their eerie glow. He stumbled, thrown off balance, and in that instant, the zombie''s remaining arm descended like a hammer. THUD! Volk barely had time to react before he was slammed into the ground, his bones rattling from the force of the blow. The impact reverberated through him, a bone-crunching force that would have shattered a lesser being. "GRAAAAHHH!" Volk''s scream of rage filled the air as he scrambled to his feet once more. His body regenerated rapidly, but each strike and each spell left him slower, more vulnerable, his fury growing with each punishing blow. He was unrelenting, however, his bloodlust fueling him as he charged again, fists swinging wildly as he attacked with every ounce of strength he could muster. Yet the zombie matched him, blow for blow. GRAAAAAAHH He screamed in frustration. Each time Volk advanced, the two women would reappear, launching another spell to throw him off balance. "Akhr''mar Shadros!" The zombie would strike again, its rotting, misshapen limbs landing with precision, forcing him back time and again. Finally, Volk stopped, breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he staggered, his skin bruised and cracked, blood trickling from various wounds. His muscles ached, a deep, throbbing pain that gnawed at his endurance. His regeneration was slowing, and for the first time, he felt a trace of exhaustion. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But his rage... it only grew. "RRRRAAAHHH!" he roared, shaking with anger, his fist slamming into the ground, cracking the stone beneath him. He glared at the zombie, hatred burning in his gaze as he snarled. His breaths came in heavy, ragged pants as he wracked his mind, desperate to find a way to turn the tide. Then, over the cacophony of the battle, a sound cut through the haze of fury clouding his mind¡ªa deep, guttural call from the distance. "WARCHIEF!" Chapter 169 - 169: UNSHACKLED HORDE Volk turned, the bloodlust in his gaze fading momentarily as his eyes fell upon his horde¡ªa battalion of snarling orcs and brutish ogres, each one battle-scarred and fiercely loyal. The orcs stood tall, their green skin marred by the brutal marks of countless fights, muscles taut beneath rough armor. In their eyes, a fierce, unquenchable flame burned, a collective fire that flickered and danced as they took in the sight of the towering undead behemoth in front of their warchief. Volk''s heart thundered with pride. He thrust a massive fist into the air and bellowed, his voice rolling like thunder across the battlefield, "VOLK SMASH WITH HORDE!" The orcs and ogres raised their weapons high, snarling and roaring, a wave of primal fury surging through them. "HORDE IS WITH WARCHIEF!" they shouted, voices merging into one relentless war cry that shook the very earth. Then, Volk''s voice boomed once more, "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAAARRR!!!" At his rallying cry, the entire horde responded, their voices thundering across the field. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAAARRR!!!" Their weapons raised skyward, spears and swords glinting in the dim, deathly light, they readied themselves, muscles coiled, eyes blazing with savage determination. The war drums of the orcish horde pounded, and the ground trembled beneath their feet as they advanced, each step syncing with the furious beat. The undead monstrosity loomed before them, a mountain of rotting flesh and twisted sinew, with deathly energy pulsing from every tear and rip in its decayed body. And yet, the sight only seemed to fuel the orcs and ogres further, their screams of rage and loyalty piercing the air like arrows, sharpening their purpose to a razor''s edge. ¡­ Meanwhile, within the hulking zombie creature, Bong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman''s faces were twisted with horror and a rising dread. From their viewpoint inside the creature''s dark, putrid interior, they could see the massing of Volk''s horde below, their eyes locked on the massive undead they inhabited. The situation had gone from grim to dire in an instant. They exchanged glances, minds racing. The middle-aged woman clutched Bong Me-Eon''s arm, her voice tense and quiet. "This isn''t just about their Warchief now," she muttered, glancing toward the horde. "It''s about his entire tribe. Orcs and ogres¡­all of them bound to him, fighting for him." Bong Me-Eon''s face twisted with a mix of anger and worry. "They''re here to help him destroy us, not to mention whatever else they''ll raze after this. He''s dangerous enough alone, but with an entire army¡ª" The middle-aged woman nodded grimly. "Yes, with his whole horde by his side, we can''t just¡­ We''ll have to consider him a threat beyond the beast he''s fighting. They''re rallying behind him, and that means every one of them will be a problem if he comes out of this alive." Bong Me-Eon took a shaky breath, her hand brushing against the cold, decaying walls surrounding them. "I always thought he was just another brute, another monster in a world full of them. But this¡ªthis is different. If he survives¡­he''ll have a tribe willing to tear down everything in their path to honor him." The middle-aged woman''s eyes narrowed as she looked at the roaring horde outside. "We need to stop him here, end this, or we''ll be dealing with more than just a horde of mindless beasts. We''ll be facing a unified army of ruthless warriors¡ªand Warchief at the helm." But before they could decide their next move, the walls around them shuddered violently. The undead creature jerked as something tore through its rotting limbs. Both women clung to the slick, sickly flesh, struggling to maintain their footing. Bong Me-Eon glanced up, horror deepening. "They''re attacking," she whispered, the realization dawning on her. "We''re out of time." As the flesh around them began to tear, they exchanged a determined look, preparing themselves for the onslaught to come. Outside, the horde surged forward, their eyes locked on the monstrous undead that hid their allies within, ready to tear it down, piece by piece. Below, the battlefield was chaos itself. The massive undead creature, towering like a twisted giant, stood as a nightmarish colossus amidst Volk''s horde. The rotting flesh of the creature dripped and hung like overgrown moss, decayed and peeling, emitting a noxious stench that filled the battlefield. The creature moved in monstrous, lumbering strides, each step shaking the earth, its hollow eyes fixed on the swarm of orcs and ogres who charged toward it like wolves and bears thirsting for blood. The orcs, wild-eyed and howling with fury, hurled themselves at the beast, their cries cutting through the battlefield like the shrieks of raptors. "GRAAAAAAH!" "FOR THE HORDE!" "DESTROY IT!" Their voices melded into a deafening roar, each one a war cry that drove them forward with feral determination. Ogres, the largest and most muscular of Volk''s horde, bellowed with guttural growls, barreling into the undead monstrosity''s legs like battering rams. They swung crude clubs and thick spears, their weapons colliding with bone and rotting flesh with sickening cracks and wet thuds. However, the zombie fought back with an equally horrifying intensity. Its enormous, decayed hands swept through the horde, each swing a maelstrom of death that sent orcs and ogres flying, crushed or mangled under the weight of its rotting fists. A lone orc leapt onto the zombie''s ankle, climbing with a snarl as he dug his blade into the decayed flesh. With a furious twist, he hacked away at the sinew, carving deep into the rotting muscle until a sickening squelch echoed out, followed by the creature''s groan¡ªa deep, haunting wail that seemed to shake the very air. Yet before he could make another move, a powerful backhand from the beast sent him hurtling through the air, his body landing with a bone-snapping crunch far from the others. Despite the devastating blows they took, the horde fought on, reckless and relentless, howling their war cries into the haze of decay. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The ogres, roaring like primal beasts, rushed in groups, slamming their entire bodies against the creature''s legs. One particularly massive ogre, his eyes wild with bloodlust, charged the creature''s knee with a giant stone hammer. KABAAAM! The impact sent tremors up the zombie''s towering frame, causing it to momentarily stumble. However, before the ogre could raise his hammer again, a jagged death beam erupted from the zombie''s gaping mouth, piercing through the ogre''s chest and reducing him to nothing but ashes. Volk watched from a distance, his own heart pounding as he took in the sight of his warriors fighting like he had never seen before. Every death was answered by more furious charges, each fallen orc or ogre seeming only to fuel the rage of the others. For the first time, they fought without reservation, with no fear of magic, no reluctance in the face of dark forces. His memories took him back to battles against Dark Elves and Warlocks, where the horde had always hesitated, their bloodline fear of magic breaking their spirits like enslavery and their creation just as much as the enemy''s spells broke their bones. Volk had always wondered if they would fight like this because his horde held a deep-seated fear, one buried in their very history: fear of the dark arts that had created them, that bound them to a fate they despised. To die in humiliation. But now¡­this fight was different. They hurled themselves into the fray as if death was nothing. The creature they faced wasn''t connected to their old fears; it was neither a warlock nor a dark elf. For once, they were free of that ancient fear, their primal spirits unleashed, wild and savage. And in that moment, Volk understood. His horde fought with a fury unbridled because they faced no echoes of their past. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, his blood burning with excitement. He closed his eyes, feeling the thrill of battle surge through him. His warriors¡ªhis tribe¡ªwere giving their all. The undead beast was crumbling under their onslaught, but still it fought back with a mindless rage, swinging and blasting death beams that disintegrated any in its path. Finally, Volk opened his eyes, the fire in his gaze fierce and blazing. With a mighty leap, he bounded forward, his massive frame crashing through the battlefield as he charged into the fray. He roared, a sound so thunderous that it echoed over the horde and the zombie alike. "VOLK WOULD NOW JOIN!" His voice boomed, shaking his warriors to their core. "SMASH THE SYSTEM USEEEEEEEER!" Chapter 170 - 170: What do we do, master? The horde screamed in response, rallying around him with renewed fury. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAAAR!" they shouted, raising their weapons to the sky, their voices rising to a fever pitch. They surged forward with Volk at the lead, a massive, unstoppable force crashing down upon the undead creature. Volk reached the beast''s massive leg, gripping the decayed, rotting flesh with his bare hands. His muscles bulged as he strained, digging his fingers into the creature''s leg before heaving with all his might. RIIIIIP! A chunk of the undead''s flesh tore away, falling to the ground with a wet, squelching sound. He tossed it aside with a snarl, relishing the sight of the creature flinching under his assault. "GRAAAAAAAAH!" Volk bellowed, swinging his massive fists up and pounding into the beast''s torso. Each strike landed with the force of a landslide, the sound reverberating across the battlefield. He struck again and again, relentless, his fists coated in blackened gore, as chunks of rotted muscle and bone splintered under his assault. The zombie staggered, raising its arms in an attempt to defend itself, but Volk only roared louder, his fury mounting with each passing second. An orc beside him, wielding an enormous blade, swung at the creature''s shin with a fierce scream, carving deep into the decayed muscle. Beside him, an ogre hurled a stone the size of a boulder at the beast''s chest, smashing into it with a resounding BOOM! The zombie stumbled, its body barely holding itself together, as piece by piece, it was torn apart by Volk and his horde. But the creature was resilient, mindlessly driven to fight to its last, even as its body crumbled. With a guttural groan, it opened its mouth wide, unleashing another deadly beam that swept across the battlefield, searing through the ranks. Orcs and ogres dove to evade it, but some were caught, their screams mingling with the roar of battle as they fell to ashes. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Yet Volk didn''t flinch. He lunged at the creature, grabbing hold of its massive arm. With a feral snarl, he heaved it back, wrenching it nearly out of its socket. The zombie staggered back, and in that instant, Volk''s horde swarmed it, hacking and tearing, desperate to bring it down. But still, the creature fought on, refusing to fall. As Volk roared again, he could feel something awaken within him¡ªit was getting stronger. He felt it course through him as he pressed on, blood pounding in his ears as he delivered strike after brutal strike. As he felt his horde rally around him, their war cries blending with his, Volk knew that in this moment, they were one relentless force, united by blood and battle. Suddenly, the stomach of the undead creature began to shift, the flesh peeling back in two sickening, slimy openings that oozed with decay. The disgusting sight made some of the warriors falter for a moment, the gruesome display shocking even the most hardened fighters. From within, two figures emerged¡ªBong Me-Eon and the middle-aged woman, their silhouettes framed against the dark interior of the undead''s body. As soon as they broke free, they raised their hands and unleashed dark spells, waves of necromantic magic crashing into Volk''s face. Stunned, Volk grunted in surprise, momentarily blinded by the swirling, dark energy. It wasn''t enough to truly harm him, but it was a powerful distraction. Snarling, he shielded his eyes as the zombie''s severed arm reared back. With a thunderous CRACK, it smacked into him, sending him crashing across the battlefield. The ground shuddered under the force of his landing, dirt and rock erupting in a cloud around him. Volk stood slowly, the fury in his eyes like a blazing inferno. He gritted his teeth, growling low and deep, his muscles tense as he prepared to strike again. But just as he gathered his strength, his thoughts shifted to strategy. He knew he couldn''t win this with sheer brute force alone, not with the necromantic magic constantly disrupting him. He needed to outsmart this foe, but before he could plot his next move, he heard a familiar voice¡ªa voice filled with urgency. From across the field, his horde called to him, desperate and devoted. "WARCHIEF!" Volk turned his head toward the orc who screamed and saw him pointing at the giant zombie. Immediately, he looked back at the giant zombie and noticed that something was happening. The zombie''s mouth was open, oozing a strange red mist. Volk sneered. "SYSTEM USER!" ¡­ Inside the stomach of the giant zombie, Bong Me-Eon and her master, the middle-aged grandmaster necromancer, moved swiftly through the slimy, pulsing cavern of flesh. Rotting tendrils and oozing veins lined the interior walls, their sinister green glow casting eerie shadows across their faces. Both women raised their hands, chanting in perfect unison, calling upon ancient, forbidden spells as their voices echoed through the fleshy chamber. "Necros Mortis," Bong Me-Eon intoned, her voice barely more than a rasp. "Umbra Cadaveris," her master followed, her voice a deep, commanding tone that resonated with years of experience. As their dark spells flowed forth, ethereal chains of shadow and death spiraled out from their hands. Like spectral vines, the chains twisted through the zombie''s decaying interior, seeking out any orcs and ogres daring to climb up the creature''s legs. The spell took hold, and suddenly, the climbers were seized by an unseen force. The chains looped around their necks and limbs, pulling them back, their terrified grunts echoing outside the zombie''s massive frame. The magic drained them, slowing their movement as fear and exhaustion seeped into their bones. Bong Me-Eon''s breathing grew labored, her hands trembling as she pushed her magic to its limits. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her gaze shifted nervously to her master. They had sent a wave of necromantic magic across the battlefield, but there was no telling how long they could keep this up, especially against a relentless foe like Volk''s horde. "These orcs... they''re more resilient than we anticipated," Bong Me-Eon gasped, wiping her forehead. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Her master, equally drained, managed a grim nod. "Yes, I can sense their strength¡­ it''s unlike anything I''ve felt. Their spirits burn like flame¡ªunafraid, relentless." She paused, looking at the thickening strands of sinewy flesh around them as the zombie''s internal walls began to close. "But this¡­ this isn''t just resilience. There''s something more fueling them. Something old. Something¡­" She shook her head, her voice trailing off, and then gestured back at the closing wound with urgency. "The flesh is sealing us in again," Bong Me-Eon said, her voice tinged with panic. She took a shaky step forward, her face twisted in desperation. "If we stay inside too long, we''ll be cut off from helping to control this creature!" They exchanged an anxious look, realizing the gravity of their situation. The horde was coming in full force, and without their spells, the undead giant could very well fall beneath Volk''s relentless onslaught. "What do we do, Master?" Bong Me-Eon''s voice wavered. "If we leave, the giant will collapse under the sheer weight of their attacks. But if we stay¡­ it''s only a matter of time before we''re overrun, or worse, trapped completely." Chapter 171 - 171: Leave now, masters The grandmaster gritted her teeth, her sharp gaze darting around the grotesque chamber. She was silent, calculating, her mind racing through countless possibilities. "We have a few options," she said slowly. "We could attempt a direct assault on Volk. If we pour every ounce of magic we have left into immobilizing him, perhaps we could buy time for the creature to recover." "But that''s risky!" Bong Me-Eon countered. "We''ve seen how resilient he is. Even our necromantic magic barely distracts him. And if we weaken ourselves that much, we might not have the strength to keep controlling the giant." Her master clenched her fists, frustration flickering in her eyes. "True. And any attempt to strike him directly could easily backfire if we miscalculate. But if we stay passive, our spells will fade, and the orcs will overwhelm this creature. They''re adapting too quickly to the necromantic chains¡­" "Then what if we try a counterattack on the horde itself?" Bong Me-Eon suggested, though her voice was tinged with doubt. "We could project illusions to confuse them, make them turn on one another. If they hesitate, even for a moment, that might be enough for us to regain control." The grandmaster''s eyes flickered with consideration, but she shook her head. "With their bloodlust, I doubt illusions alone would hold them off long enough." She paused, glancing at Bong Me-Eon. "But¡­ if we combined that with something tangible. A spell strong enough to damage, perhaps even annihilate a portion of the horde outright¡­" They both fell silent, considering the enormity of such an action. Bong Me-Eon''s hands clenched involuntarily at her sides, the desperation evident on her face. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "But that much power could tear this giant apart. We''re at a stalemate." They stood in silence, the squelching sound of closing flesh filling the air, as if the creature itself were growing impatient with their indecision. Bong Me-Eon''s gaze darted anxiously around the chamber. Her pulse thundered in her ears, and the weight of the choice before them pressed heavily on her chest. The options felt insurmountable¡ªany move they made could just as easily doom them as secure victory. "We need¡­ something unexpected," the grandmaster murmured, almost to herself. "Something Volk wouldn''t anticipate. If we can catch him off guard, even for a heartbeat¡­" S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They both racked their minds, but before they could voice another idea, a chilling movement caught their attention. From the depths of the grotesque, oozing walls, Song Woo-Ji''s suspended body twitched. His arms jerked, and his head rolled slightly to the side, his eyes half-closed but unseeing. Bong Me-Eon took an involuntary step back, a chill prickling down her spine. She glanced at her master, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Did¡­ did you see that?" Her master''s eyes were wide, her face tense with a mix of alarm and fascination. "He''s¡­ he''s responding," she whispered. "But to what?" They watched as Song Woo-Ji''s body twitched again, more violently this time. His fingers flexed, the skin of his hands stretching taut as veins pulsed dark beneath. The entire interior of the zombie seemed to hum, resonating with the strange energy emanating from his body. He was murmuring something under his breath, words neither of them could decipher, but the power in his tone sent a shiver down their spines. Bong Me-Eon''s breath hitched. "Master¡­ is he¡­ is he drawing energy from the horde''s souls?" The grandmaster''s face paled, and she swallowed hard. "It''s possible," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But if that''s true¡­ if he''s tapped into something so powerful that even we can feel it, then whatever magic he''s wielding might be beyond our understanding." Her eyes flickered to her disciple, her gaze softened with a rare expression of concern. "We need to make a decision, Bong Me-Eon. If we delay any longer, Song Woo-Ji could lose control. And if he does¡­ the magic inside him could be our undoing as much as it could be our salvation." Bong Me-Eon bit her lip, her mind a whirlwind of conflict. Her loyalty to her master was unwavering, but the reality of the situation was far graver than she''d anticipated. "What if... what if we could channel this energy? Use it to reinforce the creature from within? We''d gain a second wind¡ªmaybe enough to turn the tides. And we''d have him to counter horde''s brute force¡­" Her master considered it, her gaze fixed on Song Woo-Ji''s limp form, before shaking her head grimly. "Such power¡­ if he''s already unstable, trying to channel it further could overwhelm him. It could unleash chaos." As they deliberated, Song Woo-Ji''s body convulsed once more, and a whisper escaped his lips¡ªa sound that was neither plea nor command, but something otherworldly, ancient and resonant. The words cut through the air like a blade, sending a chill through the two women. The grandmaster swallowed, her voice a low murmur. "Then we have to decide quickly, for once he fully awakens, we might not get another chance." Within the throbbing, putrid cavern of undead flesh, the limp form of Song Woo-Ji began to tremble. At first, the motion was faint, a barely perceptible shiver rippling through his fingers and toes. Immediately, Bong Me-Eon turned her head and his gaze locked onto him, her pulse quickening as the tremor traveled up his arms, twitching erratically as though something ancient, something malignant, it was like clawing its way to the surface. The tremors intensified, spreading to his legs and torso, causing his entire body to convulse in strange, spasmodic rhythms. His skin, pale and drawn, began to darken, taking on a sickly, unnatural hue, as if every vessel in his body were filling with decay instead of blood. His veins pulsed and thickened beneath the skin, turning a dreadful shade of crimson that glowed with an unnatural luminescence. Each twitch seemed to draw out this red, venomous energy from deep within, oozing outwards like liquid death, saturating his body inch by inch. "Master¡­" Bong Me-Eon whispered. Beside her, her master''s expression had grown grave, her eyes narrowed as she assessed the transformation unraveling before them. Another violent twitch shot through Song Woo-Ji''s body, jerking his head back as if an unseen force were wrenching him towards some invisible destination. His mouth hung open, and though no sound escaped his lips, his body seemed to radiate a tangible, palpable darkness. The air around him thickened, like a mist laced with the scent of rot and decay, a cloud so oppressive that even Bong Me-Eon and her master, both seasoned necromancers, felt a tremor of fear. Each new spasm left his skin darker, redder, until the color became almost unbearable to look at, as though it was imbued with the very essence of death itself. It wasn''t just red; it was a deep, lethal crimson that seemed to bleed with malevolent energy, like the embodiment of decay manifesting in color. It was raw, unfiltered death, radiating off him in waves, each pulse heavy with a chilling potency that was nearly suffocating. Another convulsion, sharper than the ones before, wracked his body. His fingers clawed at the air, curling and contorting as if some internal battle was raging, ripping at the fabric of his very being. Bong Me-Eon and her master could feel it¡ªa death energy unlike anything they''d ever encountered, vast and ancient, as though it had slumbered for centuries and was now stirring awake, filling Song Woo-Ji''s very essence. The grandmaster''s lips tightened into a thin line. "This¡­ this energy¡­ it''s not his," she murmured, an uncharacteristic note of fear lacing her voice. Song Woo-Ji''s body jerked again, and this time his eyes opened, glowing faintly, an unsettling red light that seemed to pierce through the dimness of the fleshy chamber. It was then that his lips parted, and a voice, strained yet resolute, rasped from his throat, echoing faintly around them. "Master¡­ Grandmaster¡­" He said wuth a voice trembling with exhaustion, yet it carried an undeniable strength. His eyes, though heavy-lidded, held a determined focus that was striking in contrast to the chaos wracking his body. "Please¡­ leave. The ancient spirit¡­ it''s about to take over¡­" Chapter 172 - 172: VOLK, DESTROY SYSTEM The words hit Bong Me-Eon like a physical blow, and she felt her chest tighten. Her gaze flicked to her master, who was already scrutinizing Song Woo-Ji with a piercing intensity. Yet, even as they processed his plea, he spoke again, his voice tinged with urgency despite his weakening state. "I don''t¡­ have much time. Once it takes over, even for just a moment¡­ it will¡­ it will not discern friend from foe." Bong Me-Eon hesitated, her heart pounding as she looked to her master for guidance, but the grandmaster''s expression was unreadable, her eyes shadowed with contemplation and, perhaps, a hint of sorrow. She seemed to weigh Song Woo-Ji''s words, her gaze shifting between him and Bong Me-Eon as though calculating the cost of their decision. "Master, what¡­ what if we could¡ª" Bong Me-Eon began, but her master silenced her with a subtle shake of her head. "There is no ''what if'' here," the grandmaster murmured, her voice low but resolute. "If he says we need to leave¡­ then we must." She fixed her gaze on Song Woo-Ji, her voice softening. "But¡­ tell us. This spirit¡­ what is it, truly?" Song Woo-Ji''s head fell forward, and for a moment, his whole body went still. Then, slowly, his eyes lifted to meet theirs, hollow and tired but unwavering. "The spirit¡­ it''s old. Older than memory. It¡­ lingers in the remnants of a curse¡­ a wrathful, ancient entity bound to a lineage of vengeance. When¡­ when it takes control, it devours reason. It¡­ it will only want to destroy." Bong Me-Eon felt a chill creep up her spine, the weight of his words settling over her like a shroud. This was no mere possession. What lingered within Song Woo-Ji was something feral, something that had long abandoned all semblance of humanity. "I had¡­ I had no choice," Song Woo-Ji continued, his voice growing fainter, each word clearly costing him. "I needed power to face the monsters¡­ to protect¡­ to survive. But¡­" His voice faltered, his eyes glazing over momentarily before he continued. "This spirit¡­ it doesn''t serve me. I serve it, in exchange for power¡­ for revenge." Bong Me-Eon''s master nodded slowly, an understanding flickering in her eyes. She glanced toward Bong Me-Eon, her voice steady. "We can''t linger, Bong Me-Eon. We need to trust his judgment." Bong Me-Eon opened her mouth to protest, but something in Song Woo-Ji''s pained expression stopped her. She could see the raw exhaustion, the desperation that underscored every labored breath he took. His fingers twitched, and a faint tremor ran through him as though the spirit was already beginning to claw its way up, hungering to take hold. With great effort, Song Woo-Ji spoke once more, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the spirit within him was draining every ounce of strength he had left. "Once¡­ my body turns completely¡­ you''ll know. The skin¡­ will turn reddish-green¡­ like the undead itself. Then¡­ please¡­ go." Bong Me-Eon felt her throat tighten, but she managed a nod, biting back the torrent of questions and objections that threatened to spill forth. She forced herself to look at him, memorizing his face in that moment, knowing that when she saw him again, he might be something else entirely. A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he saw her resolve. "I¡­ I wish things were different," he murmured, his gaze growing distant as the red death glow spread further up his neck, seeping into the veins of his face. "But I made a choice. And now¡­ now I must pay its price." His master placed a gentle hand on Bong Me-Eon''s shoulder, offering her a reassuring squeeze. "It''s time, Bong Me-Eon. We''ll honor his request." She turned back to Song Woo-Ji, a quiet respect in her gaze. "Do what you must. And may your spirit remain¡­ your own, in the end." With one last, lingering look, Bong Me-Eon and her master stepped back, readying themselves to depart the grim, pulsating chamber of flesh. Yet as they moved, Song Woo-Ji''s eyes slipped shut, and a violent shudder coursed through his body, his skin gradually shifting from the blood-tinged red to a sickly, decayed green, the deathly energy coiling around him like an aura. Bong Me-Eon swallowed, steeling herself as she forced her gaze away, knowing this might be the last she saw of him in his own form. Both women hesitated, one last time, but then with silent resolve, they turned and moved towards the closing walls of flesh, their footsteps echoing as they left Song Woo-Ji alone to the spirit''s possession. They knew that once his transformation was complete, whatever part of him remained would be a fleeting whisper, a shadow in the presence of a force as ancient as decay itself. Suddenly, a sound echoed through the narrow corridor of decaying flesh like an earthquake, reverberating through the very walls and shaking the floor beneath Bong Me-Eon and her master. "GRRAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!" The roar thundered, filled with a rage so intense it felt like it could break through the world itself. "VOLK SMASH SYSTEM! VOLK SMASH SYSTEM!" Each word was punctuated by a massive, rhythmic thudding, each impact growing louder, heavier, closer. The footsteps were relentless, pounding the ground like a death march, the tremors intensifying as if a mountain itself were bearing down upon them. Thud¡­ Thud¡­ Thud¡­ THUD! With each step, the noise grew, vibrating the very marrow of their bones, until it was all they could hear. Bong Me-Eon''s heart hammered in her chest, the thudding footsteps echoing like a countdown in her mind. She looked to her master, eyes wide with worry and urgency, her instincts screaming to flee but an undeniable pull calling her back. "Woo-Ji!" Bong Me-Eon''s voice trembled as the syllables left her lips, a spark of desperation in her tone. She could feel something¡­ wrong. Something worse than all the blood and rot they''d waded through so far. Her eyes locked with her master''s, and she saw the same fear reflected back. "We¡­ we can''t just leave him!" Bong Me-Eon stammered, her hands curling into fists. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The grandmaster looked as though she wanted to argue, but in the end, she nodded. The two women turned back down the grotesque corridor, hurrying toward the ominous sound, each step harder to take, each heartbeat louder than the last. When they finally reached the inner chamber, the sight before them brought them to an abrupt halt, and they both gasped in horror. "Woo-Ji!" they cried, voices overlapping as they took in the scene. Suspended in the massive, cruel hand of Volk, Warchief of the Orcs, was Song Woo-Ji. He dangled from Volk''s fingers like a battered doll, his body twisted and stretched painfully, the red mist of decaying energy pouring from his form in waves. Yet, it was no longer the man they had known. His skin had taken on a sickly, crimson hue, a twisted and monstrous version of his former self. His features were warped, jagged lines running down his cheeks as if something inside was forcing itself through his flesh. Blackened veins ran across his face and neck, pulsing, pumping dark energy through him like a network of death and rot. But then, they saw his eyes, flickering behind the haze of crimson energy, struggling to stay focused amidst the unrelenting pressure of Volk''s hand. His gaze was fierce, alive, and there was a sliver of the old Song Woo-Ji, hidden behind that monstrous facade, fighting against the overwhelming power that had overtaken him. He was still in there, clinging on with whatever strength he had left. Volk''s fingers curled tighter, muscles flexing with grotesque force. The veins in his arm bulged, thick cords of power straining against his green skin, his massive biceps swelling as his grip strengthened. The air crackled with Volk''s sinister energy, his gaze locked onto Song Woo-Ji with hunger, a desire to crush. "VOOOOLKKK!" The red mist of death surrounding Song Woo-Ji''s body pulsed in resistance, pushing back against Volk''s grip, struggling to escape. "CRUUSSH!" Yet, Volk''s grip only tightened, overpowering the mist bit by bit, driving it back with sheer brute strength. "SYSTEEEEEEM!" With a guttural roar, Volk threw his other hand into the fray, tearing through the flesh of the giant zombie to free his hand. Chapter 173 - 173: The grandmaster Grinning with savagery, Volk brought both hands up to tear Song Woo-Ji apart. Kecheeerrkk! The red mist and Volk''s grip were creating an intense clashing sound. Bong Me-Eon''s heart clenched with terror; she could feel it in her bones¡ªthis was the end. But they wouldn''t let it end like this. Not without a fight. The grandmaster raised her hands, her voice commanding as she began a low, ancient chant, the words spilling out with practiced precision, each syllable vibrating with necromantic force. "Through the shadows of decay, the bones of the fallen, let the spirits rise, let the dead awaken! Bind his will! Trap his soul!" Bong Me-Eon joined in, her voice shaking at first but soon finding strength, matching the grandmaster''s tone with a fierce intensity. "By the power of darkness, the essence of death, we call upon the void to swallow his strength! Entangle his wrath, shackle his spirit!" S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. As they chanted, the air around them thickened with a dark energy, swirling in black tendrils that coiled around Volk, latching onto his massive form like chains of night. The two women''s voices merged, filling the chamber with the sound of their incantation, each word amplifying the power surging around them. They poured their energy into it, pushing the dark magic toward Volk with all their might. "Bind the beast, choke his strength!" Bong Me-Eon''s voice was fierce, carrying a desperation and fury that vibrated with her own heartbeats. "Let decay consume his spirit, let rot taint his bones!" Volk only smirked. His eyes, sharp and cruel, glinted with amusement as he watched their spells coil around him. His muscles tensed, and he shrugged off the tendrils of darkness as though they were mere cobwebs, flicking them away with an almost lazy indifference. The chains that should have bound him snapped like brittle twigs, disintegrating in the air around him. The grandmaster clenched her jaw, her chant growing louder, more urgent. She raised her voice, the words spilling out with a renewed force. "Black spirits of old, descend upon this wretch! Drag him down into the abyss, let him be swallowed by the void!" "From the depths of darkness," Bong Me-Eon added, her own words melding with her master''s. "We summon shadows to cling to his soul, to twist his strength into weakness!" But again, Volk merely scoffed, lifting Song Woo-Ji higher, tightening his grip as though he hadn''t even felt their spells. He sneered at them, his lips curling in disdain, his eyes glinting with mockery. The necromantic energy sizzled and fizzled against his skin, unable to sink in, unable to penetrate his hardened aura. With a thunderous laugh, Volk bellowed, "PATHETIC MAGIC! VOLK NOT SCARED OF PITIFUL TRICKS!" The words were a hammer blow, reverberating through the chamber as he threw their spells aside like worthless scraps. The grandmaster''s face contorted with frustration, her voice breaking as she tried to rally her energy once more. Bong Me-Eon''s hands trembled, her focus wavering as despair clawed at the edges of her mind. But still, they pressed on, unwilling to abandon Song Woo-Ji. They clutched at any incantation they could remember, throwing every last shred of their power into the fight. "Lords of the dead, grant us strength!" Bong Me-Eon cried, her voice raw. "Cast shadows upon him, let his soul be bound!" "From the depths of decay, let him rot!" her master echoed, her hands outstretched, fingers trembling with exertion. "Let darkness shroud his spirit, let death consume him!" Volk laughed louder, the sound echoing like a triumphant roar through the chamber. He leaned in, his teeth bared in a sadistic grin as he watched their magic dissipate, utterly unaffected. His eyes gleamed with scorn as he sneered, "VOLK TOO STRONG FOR WEAK MAGIC. YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP VOLK? VOLK FELT NOTHING!" Ignoring the onslaught of their spells, Volk refocused on Song Woo-Ji, his grip tightening once more. The red mist that had been fighting back was now a thin wisp, fading, struggling against the pressure of his crushing hands. "WOO-JI!!!" Bong Me-Eon screamed, her voice cracking as she watched the last remnants of the red mist being forced back. She raised her hands, prepared to try one last spell, her eyes burning with tears of rage and helplessness. Volk barely even looked at her, his cruel grin widening as he dismissed their magic once and for all. He let out a final, triumphant roar, GRAAAAAAHHH!! his hands tightening around Song Woo-Ji''s twisted, monstrous form, poised to deliver the fatal blow. In that instant, their last shreds of hope seemed to dissolve, disappearing into the vast, mocking shadow of Volk''s growk. "GRAAAAAAHHHH!!" The weight of despair settled over them, yet in their hearts, a fierce resolve lingered¡ªa final flicker of defiance, even as they stood powerless against the relentless, unstoppable might of the Warchief. Volk''s fist was poised to grip depper, his fingers ready to squeeze the last of the red mist from Song Woo-Ji''s struggling form. However, suddenly, a flash of blinding, dark light erupted to his side, striking his arm with enough force to jolt him off balance. "Bang!" The impact sent a faint shiver through Volk''s titan arm, and he turned with a look of surprise. His gaze landed on the middle-aged woman standing defiantly, her stance resolute, her eyes blazing with fury and power. The Warchief''s lips curled into a sneer as he faced her. "Hmph. WEAK HUMAN, YOU DARE HURT VOLK?" But before he could fully register the shock, the middle-aged woman lifted her hands, summoning a dark, pulsating energy that wrapped around her like a storm. Her face was etched with determination, her voice rising above the howling wind of necromantic magic swirling around her. "YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST WALK INTO OUR WORLD AND DO AS YOU PLEASE?" Her voice rang through the chamber like a war cry, each word sharp as a blade. "I AM AN SSS CLASS RANKER OF THIS WORLD, AND I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO HARM MY DISCIPLE OR HER DISCIPLE!" The force of her words alone seemed to push against Volk, a pressure that defied her physical size. Her hands crackled with black energy, tendrils of shadow weaving around her as she drew upon the full extent of her power. She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Volk with unyielding defiance. "RETURN TO YOUR REALM, YOU MONSTER!" She screamed, her voice unwavering, filled with a strength that even Volk couldn''t ignore. "YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT US, NOT WHILE I STILL DRAW BREATH!" Volk sneered, barely flinching as her energy lashed out. He shook his head, clearly unimpressed. "WEAK SPELLS¡­ PATHETIC WOMAN¡­" Ignoring her, Volk''s gaze returned to Song Woo-Ji, the system user he so need to destroy. He could feel the strange, system-like energy within Song Woo-Ji, and every instinct within Volk warned him not to underestimate it. The system was a nuisance¡ªa trick and a cheat¡ªbut it also wielded great power. And Volk would crush it before it had a chance to meddle with him further. "GRAAAAAAHHH!" Volk roared, brushing off the necromantic magic as if it were dust on his shoulder. His hand reached out again for Song Woo-Ji, who was still writhing in his grasp. But the middle-aged woman wasn''t finished. She raised her voice again, directing her fierce gaze to Bong Me-Eon. "BONG ME-EON! TAKE HIM AS SOON AS SOON AS I WEAKEN THIS MONSTER!" Bong Me-Eon''s eyes widened, her expression one of shock and fear. She could barely comprehend her master''s words, the reality of what her master was about to do. "Master! Are you¡­ are you going to¡­ do it?" She could barely able to believe what she was hearing. Chapter 174 - 174: Black Ash With a solemn nod, the grandmaster looked at her with a gaze that was filled with both love and pride. "YES. I WILL DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE." Her voice softened, filled with a warmth that was rare to hear in her usual commanding tone. "BONG ME-EON¡­ YOU HAVE BEEN A GOOD DISCIPLE. YOU HAVE BECOME STRONG, WISE, AND COMPASSIONATE. I HAVE WATCHED YOU GROW FROM A TIMID STUDENT TO A WARRIOR. I COULDN''T BE MORE PROUD." Tears welled up in Bong Me-Eon''s eyes, the weight of her master''s words hitting her like a blow. She could feel the pride radiating from her master, and it made her chest tighten with an overwhelming mix of sorrow and gratitude. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. "Master¡­" Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes glistening as she looked at the woman who had taught her everything. The grandmaster reached out a hand, resting it gently on Bong Me-Eon''s shoulder. "YOU HAVE CARRIED MY LEGACY WELL, AND YOU HAVE EVEN FOUND A DISCIPLE OF YOUR OWN, ONE WHO IS STRONG AND BRAVE. YOU HAVE TAUGHT HIM WELL, JUST AS I TAUGHT YOU." A soft smile tugged at her lips, and she squeezed Bong Me-Eon''s shoulder reassuringly. "DO NOT LET FEAR HOLD YOU BACK, MY DEAR DISCIPLE. SOMETIMES, WE MUST MAKE SACRIFICES FOR THE ONES WE LOVE. AND YOU HAVE A STRONG HEART, STRONGER THAN YOU KNOW." Bong Me-Eon blinked, a tear escaping down her cheek. Her heart felt as if it were breaking, the weight of her master''s words settling deep within her. "But¡­ why, Master?" Her voice cracked with pain and confusion. She couldn''t understand why her master was willing to risk so much, to face Volk alone. The grandmaster''s gaze shifted to Song Woo-Ji, still caught in Volk''s relentless grip, his body twitching with the red deathly aura around him. "THIS MONSTER KNOWS, BONG ME-EON. HE KNOWS THAT SONG WOO-JI''S SPIRIT IS STRONG. THE SPIRIT HE CARRIES IS AN ANCIENT ONE, AND IT CAN MATCH THIS BEAST. THE HORDE WARCHIEF DOES NOT WANT TO GIVE IT THE CHANCE." Realization dawned on Bong Me-Eon''s face, the truth settling heavy and cold in her heart. "So¡­ if Song Woo-Ji awakens fully, will the spirit protect him?" The grandmaster nodded, her eyes glistening with a fierce determination. "YES. THE SPIRIT''S POWER IS LIMITED. BUT FOR THAT BRIEF TIME, IT CAN OVERPOWER EVEN THIS MONSTER. "THE MONSTER HORDE WARCHIEF KNOWS THIS, AND HE''S DOING EVERYTHING TO PREVENT IT. THAT''S WHY WE MUST GIVE WOO-JI THE CHANCE TO FIGHT BACK, TO FULLY AWAKEN." Bong Me-Eon took a deep breath, her mind racing as she processed everything her master had said. She felt a surge of respect and love for this woman who was willing to put herself in harm''s way, all for the sake of her disciple''s survival. "MASTER," Bong Me-Eon said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "YOU¡­ YOU''VE BEEN LIKE A MOTHER TO ME. I NEVER GOT TO SAY THANK YOU¡­ FOR EVERYTHING YOU''VE DONE." The grandmaster gave her a gentle, tearful smile, a look of pure love shining in her eyes. "MY DEAR, YOU HAVE ALREADY THANKED ME IN EVERY MOMENT YOU''VE LIVED YOUR LIFE WITH HONOR. YOU HAVE MADE ME PROUD, BONG ME-EON." Bong Me-Eon bit her lip, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she nodded, understanding her master''s resolve. She reached out, clasping her master''s hand, holding it tightly as though she could somehow keep her from what she was about to do. The grandmaster squeezed her hand in return, giving her a final, reassuring look. "THIS IS OUR DUTY, MY DEAR. IT IS OUR JOB TO PROTECT OUR WORLD, NO MATTER THE COST." Taking a deep breath, Bong Me-Eon straightened, her face resolute as she steeled herself for what was to come. "I understand, Master." The grandmaster released her hand, turning back to Volk with a fierce glare, her hands crackling with dark energy. She took a step forward, her voice ringing out in a final, defiant battle cry. "ORC!! OGRE!! WHATEVER YOU ARE! YOUR FIGHT IS WITH ME NOW!" As the words left her lips, she raised her hands, summoning a torrent of necromantic energy that filled the air with a haunting, spectral light. Volk''s colossal foot swung toward the grandmaster, slamming into her with a force that echoed like a thunderclap. "SMACK!" The impact alone seemed to silence the battlefield for a heartbeat, her body seemingly crumpling beneath the blow. A savage satisfaction curled across Volk''s lips as he sneered down at her crumpled form. "WEAK WOMAN," he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "NOT WORTH VOLK''S TIME." He turned, already dismissing her from his mind, expecting to see her body flung far across the field like a discarded rag doll. But instead, her figure began to dissolve, disintegrating into a strange, dark ash that twisted in the air. The ash swirled, not in the chaotic path one would expect, but with an eerie, controlled movement, like a shadow given life. It spiraled higher, catching the faint light with an unsettling shimmer, its form undulating and writhing as if bound by a purpose, a relentless will that defied logic. The ashes twirled and looped, gathering density as they swarmed together, snaking around Volk with a dark, ominous energy. As he watched in stunned silence, the ash continued to circle him, drifting closer and closer with each spiral until it grazed against his skin like an icy fog. Volk shivered as he felt an unnatural pressure, as if the very air around him was thickening, pushing against him from every direction. It was subtle at first, but soon, that pressure began to build, intensifying as the ash encircled him with an intent he couldn''t ignore. The sensation was foreign, something he hadn''t encountered before. He tried to shrug it off, but with each movement, he felt himself being shoved backward, the ash forming a thick barrier that defied his strength. "WHAT¡­?!" He growled, his muscles tensing as he fought against the invisible force. Then, from within the swirling darkness, a spectral face began to emerge, taking form from the ash. The grandmaster''s face took shape, her features set in a fierce, unyielding expression, her eyes gleaming with a power that even Volk found unsettling. Her lips parted, and her voice rang out in a furious cry, echoing through the ash-filled air around them. "BONG ME-EON!" she screamed, her voice cutting through the haze with a strength that resonated deep within Bong Me-Eon''s chest. "TAKE WOO-JI''S BODY AWAY!" Her voice was both a command and a plea, filled with a desperation that snapped Bong Me-Eon from her grief-stricken stupor. Her heart pounding, she forced herself to her feet, casting one last glance at the spectral form of her master before dashing toward Song Woo-Ji, who still lay bound and helpless in Volk''s grasp. The ash continued its relentless assault on Volk, each wisp pressing against him with a force that grew stronger, more determined. The pressure seemed to multiply with every passing second, the ashen mist pushing Volk further and further from Song Woo-Ji''s body. He stumbled, his massive frame shuddering under the onslaught, frustration and fury twisting his face as he fought to regain control. "GRAAAHHH!" Volk roared, his powerful limbs straining as he tried to push back against the ash. But for each step he forced forward, the spectral force pushed him back two, refusing to yield. The grandmaster''s ash-born face continued to twist and swirl around him, her features shifting and reforming as she poured every ounce of her lingering power into holding him at bay. Meanwhile, Bong Me-Eon reached Song Woo-Ji''s side, her heart racing as she took hold of his limp form. She gripped his arms, digging her heels into the ground, pulling with every ounce of strength she possessed. However, Volk''s lingering hold still clung to Song Woo-Ji''s body, a monstrous resistance that made him feel as if he weighed ten times his normal size. "AAAAAHHHHHGGGGG!!!" Bong Me-Eon''s shout tore from her throat, the sound raw and desperate as she strained against the invisible tether that held Song Woo-Ji fast. Beside her, the grandmaster''s voice rose again, her ash-born form intensifying, the spectral mist thickening as it surged forward with renewed ferocity. The ash wrapped around Volk''s arms and shoulders, spiraling down his legs, anchoring him to the ground with an immovable weight. He snarled, thrashing against the ethereal bindings, his muscles bulging, veins straining as he tried to throw off the ashen chains. "GRRRRAAAAAAHHHHH!" Volk''s roar echoed across the battlefield, his fists pounding against the invisible barrier as he attempted to break free. However, the more he fought, the tighter the ash seemed to hold him, its incorporeal grip refusing to relent. "MASTER!" Bong Me-Eon''s voice shook with both fear and determination, her eyes stinging as she struggled to pull Song Woo-Ji free. She braced her legs, throwing her weight backward, every muscle in her body straining as she tugged against the weight of Volk''s grasp. But the grandmaster''s ash held strong, each twist and turn of the ethereal mist driving Volk back inch by inch. His furious gaze flickered from Bong Me-Eon to the spectral face, his frustration mounting as he realized he was losing ground. The ash continued to push him, forcing him further and further from Song Woo-Ji, the relentless force unyielding in its purpose. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The grandmaster''s face loomed closer, her expression fierce, unyielding. With each surge, her presence seemed to grow, towering over him like a shadow, her gaze boring into his with a determination that bordered on the otherworldly. Bong Me-Eon''s fingers slipped slightly on Song Woo-Ji''s arms, her grip nearly failing as exhaustion clawed at her limbs. However, with one final, desperate shout, she dug her heels into the ground, throwing her entire weight into the pull. "AAAAAAAAHHHHGGGG!!!" With a sudden, wrenching force, Song Woo-Ji''s body tore free from Volk''s grasp, the momentum sending both Bong Me-Eon and her unconscious disciple stumbling backward. As they hit the ground, she glanced back at the towering figure of Volk, who was still locked in the grandmaster''s relentless grip. Her master''s ash continued to push Volk away, forming an impenetrable barrier that gave her and Song Woo-Ji a momentary reprieve. They had done it. Chapter 175 - 175: Grand death As Volk''s hulking form was forced back, his figure faded into the distance, and the field fell silent, a heavy, almost reverent stillness settling over the ground. The grandmaster''s ethereal form wavered for a moment, and she felt a profound sense of calm wash over her¡ªa sigh of relief so deep it touched the very core of her being. In that fleeting moment, a cascade of memories surged through her mind, vivid and unbidden, each one sharper than the last. She could see herself as a young girl, eyes wide with wonder as she wandered her family''s modest farm. Her parents, simple folk with calloused hands and kind hearts, taught her everything they knew, her father''s laughter filling her memories like a song. There were endless fields of golden crops, the smell of fresh earth and rain, and quiet nights under a sky filled with stars. The young grandmaster''s teenage years were no less bright. She''d left the farm to join a city school, and though she missed her family, she felt the thrill of independence. Friends gathered around her, and she was the leader, the one everyone looked up to for guidance and confidence. Even then, she''d always excelled, her teachers speaking in hushed tones of her potential. They called her gifted, and their praise felt as if it could lift her off the ground. But beneath it, she began to feel a faint stirring of emptiness¡ªa shadow lurking behind every achievement. The young grandmaster brushed it aside, telling herself it was just ambition pulling her forward. Then the monster gates emerged, a dark mystery that swallowed her life whole. She remembered the training camps, the intense drills, and the raw thrill of her first hunt. She was the fastest to ascend through the ranks, her skill outpacing those around her. As an E-rank, she was nervous, but she learned fast, dispatching her first monsters with precision. She grew stronger with each fight, D-rank coming almost effortlessly. But with every new rank, she noticed fewer familiar faces, friends who either gave up or¡­ didn''t survive. With C-rank came a reputation. People knew her name, other hunters admired her, and that feeling of emptiness seemed to grow. The younger grandmaster wore her smile for them all, but deep down, she felt adrift. Her strength became a burden, separating her from others, yet she kept pushing, seeking some elusive purpose that remained just beyond her reach. By the time she reached A-rank, she had wealth, fame, and influence. People called her a hero, the face of humanity''s hope. But that hope weighed on her. She was always the one to save the day, to stand firm when others fell. The slightly adult grandmaster thought that maybe, at S-rank, she''d finally feel satisfied, fulfilled. Yet, even there, the thrill dulled, and she found herself wondering why she was fighting. As she became SS-rank, and then SSS-rank, she was praised endlessly, a figure exalted above all. People looked to her as a beacon of strength, a symbol of all they aspired to be. But no one truly saw her, the girl who had once laughed in the fields of her family''s farm, the girl who yearned for something¡ªsomeone¡ªto share her burdens. In the endless waves of applause and admiration, she found herself more isolated than ever. The adult grandmaster was the best, yes, but she was also alone. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And then, she''d met Bong Me-Eon. At first, she''d chosen Bong Me-Eon for her tragic background, thinking she could be the one to lift Bong Me-Eon from her sorrow, to help her reshape her destiny. Yet now, in this quiet moment, the truth became painfully clear: she''d chosen Bong Me-Eon not out of kindness, but out of a need she could hardly bear to acknowledge. Bong Me-Eon had known hardship, real suffering. She was flawed, broken, and resilient, and it was those qualities the grandmaster had sought to understand. The grandmaster wanted, desperately, to feel that same vulnerability, to understand what drove someone who was not blessed with innate strength or perfect fortune. She had taken on a disciple not to teach, but to learn. Through Bong Me-Eon, she had hoped to finally grasp the mysteries of sorrow and struggle, to feel the weight of true connection. She''d wanted, needed, to understand what it meant to rely on someone, to be relied upon in return, not as a savior but as a companion, a part of someone''s life that went beyond her strength or title. Now, as the grandmaster stood in the ashes of her own power, holding back a monstrous foe, she understood her purpose. She wasn''t just here to save the day; she was here to build a future for Bong Me-Eon and for Song Woo-Ji, a future she would never see but had fought to make possible. For the first time, she felt at peace, a calm that went beyond the battles and triumphs of her past. It wasn''t happiness, but it was contentment¡ªa quiet, profound acceptance of her place in the lives she cherished. And as she gazed out over the battlefield, she felt herself drift, her spirit weaving through the remnants of her ash, anchoring her in the present, in this single, perfect moment where she was finally, truly needed. Suddenly, Volk''s massive hand closed around the grandmaster, and she would see his face with a cruel grin spreading as he felt her weaken beneath his crushing grip. He sneered, "GOTCHA, WEAK WOMAN! YOU DON''T HAVE MANA ANYMORE!" She was no longer ash, no longer able to slip through his fingers. Her life, her power¡ªall bound to her mortal form now. But to his frustration, she simply looked up at him, with a defiant glint in her eyes. She even dared to smile. "It doesn''t matter," she murmured, her voice filled with an unshakable calm. Slowly, she pointed a thumb over her shoulder, toward the hulking figure of Song Woo-Ji in the distance. "He''s awakened." Volk''s smirk vanished. His eyes narrowed, and his fury burned hot, consuming him. "YOU DARE TO PLAY VOOOOOLK!" His roar echoed across the battlefield as his fingers crushed down, turning her into nothing more than a broken shell, the blood staining his hand and armor. "Noooo!!!" Bong Me-Eon''s scream cut through the roar of battle, and her body launched forward, an instinctive, desperate attempt to save her master. She reached out, her hand trembling as she left Song Woo-Ji''s side. However, Volk saw her approach with a dismissive glare and swung his arm backhanded, catching her with a brutal slap. The force sent her spinning through the air, her body battered and broken, bones cracking as she hit the ground. She lay still, breathing shallowly, but the bloody mist¡ªher master''s final remnants¡ªreformed, swirling around her. It softened her impact, its dark magic seeping into her wounds, lessening her injuries even as it faded into the air. Bong Me-Eon trembled, her eyes wide and filled with helpless fury. But Volk didn''t care about her. His focus was entirely on the figure in the distance¡ªthe system user. The one who had drawn his wrath, who seemed to be gathering some forbidden power. Volk sneered, his eyes narrowing as he stomped forward, every step shaking the ground. Song Woo-Ji''s form was nearly unrecognizable, his body suspended in a dark aura of red, gray, and green energy swirling around him like a dense fog. The very air rippled with the force of decay and death, a nauseating stench filling the battlefield. The thick miasma stretched out, forming an almost impenetrable barrier. Volk paused, his lip curling in disgust at the sickly, fetid energy surrounding his prey. But he wasn''t deterred; if anything, his determination flared brighter. Chapter 176 - 176: DEATH MONARCH EMERGENCE "THIS ALL YOU GOT, SYSTEM WORM?!" he bellowed, bracing himself as he took a thunderous step forward. The decay energy responded, surging against him, crashing into him with the weight of a mountain. It wrapped around his skin, digging in like claws, gnawing at his muscles and bones. Volk''s thick veins pulsed, his face twisting in pain as the energy bit deeper, but he threw his head back and laughed¡ªa deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the mist. "VOLK NOT SCARED OF STINKY POWER!" His voice boomed as he took another step, his massive frame pushing against the decaying energy. "VOLK SMASH ALL WHO THINKS THEY STRONG!" The barrier fought back with brutal force, each wave of decay stronger than the last, pressing into him like a living wall. His skin blistered under its touch, patches sloughing away as the corrosive magic dug deeper. His muscles tensed, trembling with the strain as he forced himself forward, step by agonizing step. Pain crackled through him, raw and unrelenting, yet Volk''s fury drowned it out. He roared, his eyes blazing, pushing onward. "YOU¡­CAN''T¡­STOP VOLK!" His steps were slow, his breath ragged, but he moved forward, inch by inch, relentless, never stopping, and getting angrier and angrier every second. His hands reached out, his thick fingers curling as he pressed against the deadly energy, muscles bulging under the strain. The decay magic clawed back, a storm of red, gray, and green wrapping around his arms, pulling at his skin, gnawing at his bones. But Volk gritted his teeth, straining forward. "STINKY MAGIC WEAK!" His growl was low, but his voice held a mocking edge. "VOLK TOO STRONG FOR THIS! YOU WEAK, SYSTEM WORM!" The decay fought back harder, swirling violently as if alive, trying to consume him entirely. But Volk''s determination was like steel, unbreakable. With each step, he tore through the thick fog, his laughter a mocking echo in the midst of the dark magic. His fingers inched closer, stretching toward Song Woo-Ji''s form, his every muscle straining, his veins bulging with effort. His breath came in sharp, painful gasps, but he refused to be stopped. His fingers finally brushed the edge of Song Woo-Ji''s aura¡ªa contact that should have shattered lesser beings. But Volk grinned, defying it, his fierce gaze locked on the figure within. "VOLK WILL SMASH ALL!" His hand surged forward, reaching out to crush his prey. Then, from the depths of the decaying energy, a pulse of raw power exploded out, hitting him with a force unlike anything he''d ever felt. "BANG!" The impact shot through him like a bolt of lightning, a shockwave so intense that it ripped him off his feet, sending him hurtling back. He felt his massive body break through the decaying fog, flying far across the battlefield as his limbs went limp, the world spinning around him. "KABAM!" His body struck the ground, leaving a massive crater in the earth, and a cloud of dust and debris billowed out as Volk lay still, the world momentarily silent around him. Meanwhile, from the swirling cloud of decaying mist at the battlefield''s heart, something dark and grotesque began to take form. The decayed fog gathered, thickening, churning into shapes both nightmarish and surreal. The mists receded, and a creature stood, hunched and monstrous, its body covered in flesh that looked as if it had been flayed, revealing raw, demon-like red muscles that pulsed and oozed with decay. Skull-like, with jagged teeth and hollow eyes that glowed faintly, the beast had a resemblance to Song Woo-Ji¡ªa corrupted, twisted version, as though the man had been reborn from the darkest pits of suffering and madness. It tilted its head up toward the sky, as if savoring the open air, taking in the vastness it hadn''t seen in countless eons. A low chuckle rumbled from deep within its chest, growing louder until it exploded into a maniacal, ear-splitting laugh: "KRAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! KRAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAARH!!!" The sound was haunting, piercing through the chaos, sending chills down the spine of anything that could hear it. The creature took a long breath, savoring each inhale as though every scent carried meaning. "So long..." it whispered, its voice guttural and twisted, each word heavy with bitterness. "So¡­ long... trapped in that prison. Bound, confined, sealed away like a rabid beast, my power shackled, my soul bound in cursed chains! Forced to rot¡­ to simmer¡­ to FEAST on my own rage in that eternal darkness!" It snarled, the rows of sharp teeth grinding together, slick with drool. "Centuries passed. No, millennia. Eons of nothing but emptiness!" The creature seemed to be salivating as it recalled the memory, its tongue licking across its sharp, cracked lips. It let out a shuddering sigh, as if shaking off a lifetime''s worth of agony, and leaned forward, muscles twitching with anticipation. "But now¡­ NOW, I am FREE! This world lies before me¡ªsoft flesh, warm blood, endless mortals ripe for the taking!" The creature clenched its clawed hands, feeling the raw strength at its command, and its mouth watered. "WOMEN, CHILDREN¡­ ALL THOSE PATHETIC WEAK HUMANS¡ªI CAN''T WAIT TO GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" It let out another laugh, trembling with anticipation, the ravenous light in its eyes growing darker and more frenzied. However, then, as it scanned the battlefield for helpless prey, it caught sight of something unexpected. It blinked, confused, its maniacal smile fading as it looked around. Standing in front of him were no screaming, fleeing humans. Instead, lines of Orcs and Ogres glared at him with fiery, menacing eyes. Their bodies were tense, their faces twisted in raw hatred. Swords, axes, and clubs were gripped tightly in their hands as they prepared to face down the creature in defiance. The monstrous being tilted its head, brows knitting in disappointment and confusion as it surveyed the battlefield. "Huh?" it grunted, scanning the lines of bristling warriors. "What are these creatures called? What are you doing here?" It sneered, the disappointment in its voice clear as it scratched at its neck. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I come into this world after millennia, and THIS is my welcoming committee?" The creature''s twisted face contorted with disdain as it looked over the sea of Orcs and Ogres who dared to face him down. He shook his head slowly, as if dispelling some unpleasant thought, his sharp teeth grinding in irritation. "No... This can''t be." He murmured, glancing at his own claws, still slick with the viscous blood of his reborn body. "I will not stain my rebirth with the blood of such... creatures." He knelt, pressing his taloned fingers against the cracked ground beneath him, and his face contorted into a wide, malicious grin. "BOOOOOOONE¡­" His voice rumbled, building in volume, an ominous echo that reverberated across the battlefield. The ground pulsed with dark energy, and the deathly mist around him began swirling faster, thickening, as though the very air had grown heavier, fouler. A pulse of death energy exploded outwards in every direction, cascading over the battlefield, latching onto the soil and stones. "KAAAAAAAAAAII!" He bellowed, his voice reverberating like a thunderclap that cracked open the very fabric of space. Beneath his hands, the ground split, forming blackened crevices that seemed to pierce through reality itself. Dark, twisting rifts appeared in the earth, vast and jagged like the jaws of a monstrous creature, devouring all light around them. They expanded, casting an unnatural, flickering darkness over the battlefield. Slowly, from these shadowed rifts, figures began to emerge. They rose in silence at first, their gauntleted hands clawing their way from the depths, dragging themselves up with an eerie, purposeful grace. A glint of darkened steel shone in the dim light, revealing armor tarnished with age and scarred by countless battles. Their eyes were hollow, empty voids of darkness, yet a sickly green light flickered from within, casting an unholy glow that seeped through the cracks in their armor. Each movement was precise, cold, the embodiment of death and relentless will. One by one, they pulled themselves fully from the rifts, standing in perfect lines, as if in response to some ancient call to arms. They were towering figures clad in plate mail blackened by rot and corrosion, their weapons battered yet deadly sharp, infused with the foul energy of their master. Helmets concealed their skeletal faces, but beneath their visors, a spectral glow pulsed with unnatural life, illuminating the lifeless sockets of their eyes. With each creature that emerged, the deathly chill in the air intensified, spreading dread through the ranks of the Orcs and Ogres. The creature straightened, watching his army rise from the depths, and his thin, cruel smile widened with satisfaction. He brought his hands together, clasping them with a decisive, echoing snap. Turning back toward the Orcs and Ogres, he surveyed them with disdainful amusement. "I don''t know what pathetic dimension you came from, but none of you hold the essence of real Orcs and Ogres," he sneered, his voice filled with scorn as his gaze raked over their bristling ranks. "In you, I sense only shadows, mere imitations. You are flawed... incomplete. And I have no patience for such disappointments." He raised his hand, pointing it at them, his eyes flaring with a dark, malevolent energy. "So, my warriors," he intoned with a darkly satisfied smile, "ERASE THESE PATHETIC PARASITIC EXISTENCE!" The armored beings stiffened in unison, their heads turning toward the Orcs and Ogres in perfect synchronization. Without a sound, they began their advance, their armored boots striking the ground in a slow, unyielding rhythm, like the relentless beat of a funeral march. Their eyes were full of red blood desire to murder and their bodies were leaving decaying auras that seemed to dissolve all the living beings on their paths. Chapter 177 - 177: KNIGHT SMASH VOLK? Meanwhile, Volk got up after being sent far away, the weight of the unfamiliar force that had blasted him still pulsing through his veins. He pressed his massive fists into the earth, pushing himself to his feet, his brow furrowed. The blast¡ªit had thrown him back with an ease he''d never known. He shook his head, growling low in his chest. Strength beyond reckoning coursed through him now, surging from every muscle, every fiber. He had risen stronger than ever before, he was now considered a titan among his kin, and he is vastly far stronger because of his system. And yet¡­ that aura had overwhelmed him? The doubt lingered only for a heartbeat. Volk was not one to be shaken by questions. GrrrRRRRR¡­ Gritting his fanged teeth, he turned his gaze back to the chaos that had erupted behind him. The sight that met him made his fists clench until his knuckles were white against his green skin. His horde was in turmoil, a storm of gnashing teeth and flashing steel, but they were no longer the ones dealing the pain. They were the ones receiving it. The source of this chaos was unmistakable. A line of towering figures, clad in the tarnished steel of the ancient dead, moved with silent menace through the ranks of his warriors. They wore the marks of ages¡ªrust-streaked armor, battered and scarred, as though they had been through countless battles and now lived again only by some dark, unholy will. They marched with the inexorable calm of death itself. There was no breath, no heartbeat in them, only a sickly green light glowing from behind iron masks, flickering and pulsing like the last embers of a dying flame. One of Volk''s Ogres roared, a bellowing cry of defiance, as it hurled itself at one of the death-bound warriors. The Ogre''s massive club swung down with the force to shatter boulders, hurtling toward the armored figure with a speed that made the air tremble. However, with a swift, unnatural grace, the figure sidestepped, its armored boot scraping against the ground in a bone-chilling hiss. Before the Ogre could recover, the deathly knight drove its blade upward, a jagged, darkened steel that sliced through the air with a silent precision. The blade found flesh, biting deep. The Ogre''s roar cut off into a gurgling choke, blood spraying as it slumped to its knees, defeated in a single, merciless stroke. Volk''s heart pounded as he watched. Tudub! Tudub! Tudub! The Ogre''s once-bright eyes dulled, its hulking form falling forward, defeated. His roar split the air, echoing like thunder, "NOOO! HORDE, SMASH THEM!" But even as Volk cried out, another scene unfolded before him. An Orc warrior, battle-scarred and fierce, raised its axe high, letting out a battle cry that echoed in defiance. It rushed forward, "GRAAAAA!!" swinging wildly at another of the dead warriors. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The axe crashed against the knight''s shield with a sound like shattering stone¡ªCRACK! But the knight didn''t falter. It absorbed the blow with a chilling calm, then stepped forward, bashing its shield into the Orc''s chest with a bone-jarring crunch. The Orc stumbled back, gasping, but the death-bound warrior was relentless. Its sword sliced out in a deadly arc, catching the Orc across the chest, splitting armor and flesh alike. With a final, gasping wheeze, the Orc toppled, its fierce spirit extinguished. Volk''s fury grew, his breath coming in deep, ragged growls as he watched his kin being butchered. He felt each death like a blow against his own flesh. Another cry broke through his rage, "HUGAAARRGGG!!" drawing his eyes to yet another of his warriors¡ªa massive Ogre who stood, muscles rippling, heaving its war hammer. It swung with all its strength, a crushing blow that could shatter a stone wall. But the knight facing it moved with an impossible, eerie speed. The deathly warrior spun, sidestepping the hammer, then lunged with its sword. The blade plunged into the Ogre''s side, twisting as it buried deep. The Ogre staggered, dropping its hammer as blood poured from its wound, pooling dark and thick on the ground. The knight didn''t give it a chance to recover, wrenching the sword free and striking again, felling the Ogre with a brutal efficiency that left Volk seething. With each fallen kin, Volk''s growl deepened, turning into a low, ominous rumble. His teeth ground together, and his fists tightened until his knuckles cracked. His horde, his warriors, his blood-bound kin¡ªthey were being cut down, defeated with a chilling ease that sent an uncharacteristic chill through his spine. "ENOUGH!" Volk''s voice roared, thundering across the battlefield. He surged forward, massive feet pounding the ground. "Volk SMASH THESE MONSTERS!" He charged at one of the armored figures, his entire body vibrating with fury and intent. The ground shook beneath him as he bore down on the knight, every muscle coiling in readiness to crush his opponent. As he neared, he sensed it¡ªa suffocating, chilling aura radiating from the creature. It was unlike any force he had felt before, a presence thick with death and decay that seeped into his skin, gnawing at his very essence. But Volk shoved the feeling aside, baring his teeth in a fierce snarl. "RAAAAAAGH!" He bellowed, launching himself forward. His fist crashed into the knight''s armored chest with a deafening BAM! The blow was enough to send the creature staggering, its form thrown off balance for just a moment. But it was just that¡ªa moment. The knight righted itself with a mechanical precision, its head turning toward Volk with an eerie calm. Then, with a swift, calculated movement, it retaliated. Its gauntleted fist shot forward, slamming into Volk''s chest with a force that drove him back, the impact resounding through his bones. He grunted, stumbling as he felt the breath forced from his lungs. But he held his ground, digging his feet into the dirt. "YOU WEAK CREATURE!" Volk snarled, his voice rumbling with fury. He threw himself at the knight again, his fists swinging in powerful arcs, each strike accompanied by a thunderous roar. "RAAAAAHH! YOU DIE HERE!" His knuckles met the knight''s armor in a series of brutal impacts¡ªBAM! BAM! BAM!¡ªeach punch driving a dent into the darkened steel. However, as he kept swinging his gigantic fist, Volk felt it again, that oppressive, draining energy that clung to the knight like a second skin, seeping into him with each blow, gnawing at his strength. The knight''s head tilted, as though observing him with a detached interest. Then it moved, its speed blurring as it ducked under Volk''s swing, slamming its shield into his side with bone-crushing force. KRA-KOOM! The impact sent Volk sprawling, the earth splintering beneath him as he crashed down, dust rising in a choking cloud around him. "GRRRRAAAAAAHHH!" Volk roared, scrambling to his feet. His vision blurred with rage, and he charged forward, ignoring the heaviness creeping through his limbs, the relentless drain of his strength. He swung again, catching another knight in the shoulder, forcing it to stagger back. But before he could press his advantage, another figure closed in, its sword flashing in a deadly arc. Volk twisted, feeling the blade slice past him, close enough that he felt the chill of death brush his skin. The knight pressed its advantage, driving him back, step by punishing step, until Volk felt his back slam into something solid¡ªa wall of armored bodies surrounding him, cutting off his escape. He roared, swinging his fists in every direction, striking steel with every blow, the sound echoing across the battlefield. BAM! BAM! BAM! His knuckles split, his muscles straining as he fought against the unyielding wall of death that encircled him. But with each swing, he felt his strength slipping, the deathly energy clawing at his resolve, sapping his will to fight. "YOU¡­ WILL¡­ NOT¡­ STOP¡­ VOLK!" he roared, his voice echoing with a defiance that seemed to shake the very air around him. But the knights moved as one, a seamless, merciless tide that closed in on him, their swords raised, their cold, hollow eyes fixed on their prey. One struck him in the side, the blade slicing deep, and he roared, twisting to face it, only to be met with another strike from behind, driving him to his knees. As he struggled, he felt a shadow loom over him. He looked up, his vision blurring, and saw the creature that had summoned these warriors, its twisted face sneering down at him. "Pitiful creature," it murmured, a mocking gleam in its eyes. "Your strength means nothing here." Volk snarled, his voice hoarse, but he couldn''t find the words. His strength, his fury, his very will- everything felt like it was slipping away, lost in the cold, unyielding grip of death that surrounded him. However, even as the darkness closed in, he refused to fall silent, his growls echoing defiantly across the battlefield. Chapter 178 - 178: Death Monarch interest The Death Monarch, an ancient spirit steeped in centuries of magical wisdom, watched the hulking form of the battered Ogre before him with a mixture of mild intrigue and disdain. This creature had impressive physical might, that much was clear. But his utter lack of finesse, his inability to wield or even understand the depths of true magic, rendered him as nothing more than brute force¡ªa one-dimensional weapon that held no place in the Death Monarch''s plans. He sneered, "not really that much but muscle and brawn," he mumbled. The flickering light of his otherworldly aura casting an eerie, twisted shadow over the battlefield. The Ogre was strong, yes, stronger than many of his summoned knights, but in the grand scheme of magic, Volk was just muscle. And then, unexpectedly, Volk''s broken form stirred. There was a heavy pause, as if even the air held its breath, and then¡ªBAM! Volk slammed his fists into the ground, his body rising with a surge of determination that bordered on madness. The Death Monarch''s mocking gaze lingered, but the creature''s brows quirked slightly as Volk pushed himself to his feet, roaring. Volk''s world had dimmed, vision turning to a dark blur, but he wasn''t out. No, he would not be dismissed, especially by this¡­ thing. He remembered the sneer, the mocking twist of the creature''s face. It burned in his mind, a searing insult. "VOLK¡­ NOT¡­ WEAAAAK!" His voice thundered across the field, a challenge to any who dared doubt him. With a mighty leap, he launched himself skyward, his massive form becoming a streak against the darkened sky, trailing dust and fury behind him with a mighty SWOOOSH! He hung there for a second, high above the battlefield, taking in the endless sea of death knights below. Each armored figure was a statue of menace, a chilling force held together by dark energy, a dark army in the command of a being that had dared to look down on him. Volk''s eyes fell on the Monarch himself, sensing the pulsating aura, the sheer pressure of magical energy radiating from him like a beacon. The creature who mocked him, who dismissed him as nothing, stood with that same arrogant sneer. Volk bared his teeth in a snarl, his chest heaving with rage. "VOLK WILL DESTROY YOU, SYSTEM USEEEEEEERRR!" His words were a vow, echoing from the heavens, a final warning before his descent. He turned his gaze downward, bracing himself against the air, his massive form plummeting with accelerating force. The wind shrieked around him as he tucked his arms, his speed building into a thunderous roar. "NUCLEAAAAAAAAAR!" He bellowed, his voice splitting the sky. The ground rushed up toward him, the shadow of his form stretching across the battlefield in a growing blot. The Monarch looked up, an eyebrow arching in mild curiosity, but that sneer remained plastered on his face. Volk''s mouth opened once more as he neared the ground, the echo of his words tearing through the battlefield. "ECHOOOOOOOOOOO!" His muscles tensed, and every ounce of rage, every slight, every insult powered him, gathering like a storm within his massive body. And then, as he was almost upon his target, Volk took in a final, guttural breath, his voice tearing from him with a fury that could shake mountains. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMBB!" He collided with the earth, his impact creating an explosion that cracked the very surface of the ground. A burst of energy radiated outward from the point of collision, rocking the ground and causing shockwaves that rippled in all directions. CRRRACK! The earth split, deep fissures tearing across the ground in a spider-web pattern, rupturing rocks and scattering debris. The Monarch remained still, his gaze calm, arms folded in supreme disinterest as he watched the initial impact of Volk''s ''Nuclear Echo Bomb'' dissipate into the ground, cracking only a mere few meters of the battlefield. Volk snarled, but his ferocity only seemed to amuse the Monarch. "VOLK WILL CRUSH YOU, PUTRID SMELLING THING!!" However, the Death monarch''s cold, arrogant stare bored into Volk with a look of mild curiosity, as though he were an insect struggling to escape the inevitable boot. Then, a tremor. The Death Monarch smiled arrogantly, "heh!". However, immediately, he was drowned with a devastating BOOM! It made the Death Monarch looked and observe. Suddenly, BOOM! A second shockwave rippled outwards, stronger this time, causing the Monarch''s robe to flutter slightly, though his posture did not waver. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He raised an eyebrow, the mocking smile vanishing, replaced by a glint of¡­ interest? A third shockwave exploded outward, BOOOM!! then a fourth, BOOOOOMMM!! each one growing more intense than the last. The Monarch''s eyes narrowed, his posture shifting ever so slightly as he observed with a calculating gaze. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Each impact followed swiftly after the last, like rolling thunder, creating layer upon layer of invisible pressure that weighed down on everything around it. The seventh shockwave hit, sending cracks ripping through the earth, deepening the fractures as the pressure continued to grow. And with the eighth shockwave, the Monarch''s amusement faded completely. His eyes narrowed in contemplation, "what do we have here?" He muttered, and then he subtly and surprisingly took a single, reluctant step back. He was thinking something was wrong here. He was right. Almost immediately, the Death Monarch noticed something. His death knights, once unwavering in their ranks, now began to shiver, their armor rattling as though responding to some primal force. KLANG! KLANG! KLANG! The Monarch''s lips thinned, his eyes sharpening as he sensed the deathly energies in his knights reacting, vibrating with each pulse. Ninth shockwave. The rattling grew louder, an unnatural symphony of metal grinding against itself, filling the air with a sharp, shrill whine. Each knight trembled, KLANG KLANG KLAAAANG! their forms shifting erratically, the deathly energy that bound them shuddering under the relentless force. Then came the final shockwave¡ªthe tenth. BOOOOOOM! The ground quaked violently, and with a deafening crescendo, the shockwave detonated with such ferocity that even the Monarch, for the first time, seemed to tense, his eyes widening as he sensed the scale of what was to come. The death knights shuddered once more, and then¡ªKABOOM! One by one, they began to detonate, each armored form exploding with a force that sent dark energy scattering in all directions. The sound was immense, a cataclysmic chorus of destruction as each knight burst apart, fragments of armor flying, torn into shrapnel by the raw force tearing them apart. And with each detonation, a fresh surge of energy rocked the battlefield. The Monarch''s gaze tightened, his interest now fully piqued as he watched his army of knights reduced to nothing, their forms erupting into clouds of dust and dark mist. He clenched his jaw, his expression shifting from disdain to something more calculating. As the last of the death knights exploded, Volk stood there, his chest heaving, his entire form radiating a fierce, primal energy. He glared at the Monarch, his eyes blazing with fury, his fists clenched tight. And the Monarch, his own aura now flickering in response to the power Volk had unleashed, offered him a thin, humorless smile. "Interesting," he murmured, his voice echoing across the now-silent battlefield. Chapter 179 - 179: Change of heart However, after the Death Monarch''s lips twisted into a smirk and muttered, "Interesting¡­", as he clasped his hands together, readying to summon more of his dark necromagic, he froze. His eyes narrowed in sudden alarm as a subtle tremor rose beneath him, something that felt alive¡ªno, more than alive. The sensation was raw, pure, and ancient. He could feel its intent, a force like the earth itself surging toward him, emanating violence with an unstoppable, primal will. Suddenly, the ground beneath him pulsed with an invisible rhythm, echoing from deep within, like a heartbeat turned weapon. "Just an earth spell," he murmured dismissively, summoning a wave of low-level necromantic energy around himself as a shield. The dark aura rose, forming a barrier around him in swirling shades of black and crimson. He sneered, prepared to feel the reverberation dissipate harmlessly against his magic. "Volsorana Acho-" But then¡ªwhoosh! He was not given a time to change as an echo pulse surged straight through his barrier, slipping past the dark energies as though they were nothing but mist before it. The Monarch''s smirk vanished, "huh?" his eyes going wide with shock as the force hit him directly, a pure and relentless blast of raw earth energy that he could neither redirect nor dispel. BOOOOM! The impact drove through his entire being with the violence of a landslide, an unstoppable force that tore through every cell, every thread of his existence. He could feel it ripping through his veins, coursing through his blood like liquid fire, making each vessel strain, bulge, then erupt under the sheer pressure of it. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His blood turned against him, boiling in his veins, searing his insides as it raced through his body with relentless, merciless force. CRACK! His bones splintered as if they were nothing more than dry twigs, fracturing under the weight of the tremor that coursed through him. His limbs twisted, his spine arching as waves of energy blasted through him again and again, relentless and vicious. The bones in his hands shattered first, his fingers snapping backward like fragile branches caught in a storm, the sharp pain shooting through him like lightning. The echo tore into his muscles next, shredding each fiber with violent precision, turning sinew and flesh to pulpy masses. His skin rippled as the energy burst beneath it, tearing it open from the inside out. His stomach twisted, churning in agony as the raw magic invaded his organs, making him feel as though he were being eviscerated from within, his organs crushed and pulverized one by one. And then it reached his head. His eyes widened, pupils contracting in sheer terror as the force bore into his skull, compressing his brain within his cranium. His vision blurred, then turned to red as blood vessels ruptured, pouring hot streams of blood from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. His jaw slackened, a guttural scream escaping as he felt his spirit itself being rent apart, the tremor vibrating his very soul, shaking it with a power that made it seem as if he might be shattered at any moment. When the final wave of the tremor subsided, leaving his form a bloodied, trembling mess, he gasped for breath, HAAAAAAAH! each inhale rattling as though his lungs were struggling to stay whole. The Death Monarch raised his head, his face twisted with a grotesque blend of agony and ecstasy. Blood dripped from his mouth in thick rivulets, staining his teeth as he bared them in a twisted smile. His hands twitches uncontrollably, still gripped in pain, yet he looked at Volk with a newfound glee. The Monarch''s laughter began low, a soft chuckle, but it quickly escalated, his maniacal laughter echoing across the battlefield. "KHAHAHAHA! Oh, yes! So this is your secret, isn''t it?" His voice was trembling with exhilaration, an almost insane glee shining in his bloodstained eyes. "You wield Earth Magic, and not just brute strength! And to my surprise, not just any Earth Magic¡ªa spirit-bound magic of the earth itself! A power that attacks everything, everything, even the spirit! KHAHAHAHA!" He paused to cough up blood, his whole body convulsing, yet his laughter only grew wilder, more unhinged. "A magic that grows in strength with each entity it strikes, an echo that compounds and compounds, feeding on its own force, like a rolling avalanche that only grows in power! KHAHA! Every pulse, every tremor¡­ it builds and builds!" His voice was a madman''s whisper, reverent and feverish as he stared at Volk, his eyes ablaze with a strange, twisted reverence. "You¡ªyou are a weapon, a beautiful, brutal weapon forged from the earth itself! You think you are a warrior, but you are an instrument of annihilation, a tool of destruction like none I have ever seen! And now¡­ I will make you mine!" The Monarch''s face contorted into a manic grin, his blood-streaked face a mask of grotesque delight. "Together, you and I, we will tear through the realms! I had no interest in filthy creatures like you before, but now¡­" He tilted his head, his grin widening even further. "You will be my hammer, my destroyer. We will crush everything beneath our feet, every realm will bow to us¡ªevery human, every creature, every god and spirit! We will bring this power, this earth-rending echo of yours, to every world. They will all fall!" Hearing this, Volk''s eyes flared, a storm of fury and defiance blazing within them. His fists clenched, and his whole body seemed to pulse with rage, his muscles tensing like coiled springs ready to unleash their wrath. "NONE SHALL ENSLAVE VOOOOOOLK!!" He roared, his voice a titanic bellow that resounded through the battlefield, shaking the ground beneath him. The Death Monarch sneered, his face twisted with smug amusement as he raised a finger and pointed at Volk, immobilized and furious. "That''s not for you to decide, ogre," he said with a voice that dripped with condescension. He raised his hands, fingers weaving intricate patterns in the air, his voice dropping to a murmur as he began to chant. The air around him grew thick, heavy with a dark and ancient energy, and the language he spoke was older than time itself, each syllable vibrating through the bones of every creature within earshot. "By blood of bone and death''s decree, Let limbs fall numb, and spirit flee. By night''s embrace and cold decay, All life and strength I now betray!" The darkness pulsed out from him in waves, black tendrils snaking from the ground beneath Volk, spiraling up around his legs and torso, wrapping him like a relentless, icy vise. The tendrils clung to his skin, slipping beneath it, twisting into his muscles, sending jolts of necrotic energy that felt like frozen iron piercing through his flesh. The magic seemed to sapped his strength slowly, binding his immense limbs to the very earth, rooting him down with a weight that grew denser with each second. His shoulders began to slump, his knees buckling as if carrying the weight of the mountains. His breath came out in labored heaves, his lungs fighting against an invisible pressure that constricted his every movement. "By silence''s call and eternal night, I steal your will and claim my right. Bound you are to endless sleep, Your soul, your might, I now do keep!" The tendrils tightened, digging deeper, twisting into his very being, their freezing energy spreading through his veins like ice-cold poison. Volk''s mighty muscles strained, bulging against the restraints, but every surge of resistance only seemed to feed the dark magic, wrapping around him more tightly, sapping his will and forcing his powerful form still. His arms lay pinned against his sides, his legs frozen mid-stride, his chest heaving in shallow, painful breaths as the Death Monarch completed his spell. Chapter 180 - 180: Skeletal abyssal hounds With a satisfied smile, the Death Monarch straightened, dusting off his hands, as if the spellwork had been nothing more than an idle task. He sauntered toward Volk with leisurely arrogance, his injuries from Volk''s previous assault seeming to have vanished entirely, his stance tall and unscathed. He stopped a mere feet away, staring up at the immobilized ogre with a look that was equal parts fascination and disdain. "You are a truly magnificent creature, I''ll give you that," he said, eyeing Volk like a rare trophy on display. "Under my rule, you''ll find many¡­ rewards. Allow me to enlighten you on what you could enjoy." He paced in front of Volk, his voice dripping with smug superiority as he began his list. "First," he said, smirking as he held up a single finger, "imagine the glory of unstoppable power at your fingertips. You will be equipped with magic forged from realms beyond mortal understanding, spells that could tear through steel, through souls. "A weapon like you would be enhanced to strike fear into any who cross our path. You would feel power coursing through you that you could never achieve alone¡ªa transformation that would make even your current strength seem pitiful. "I could make you a true champion of darkness, revered by the damned, feared by the living." He let his hand fall to his side, circling Volk slowly, inspecting him like a craftsman appraising a prized piece of art. He spoke slowly, savoring each word. "Second," he continued, his voice silken with malice, "I could offer you dominion over the realms we conquer. Entire cities would bow to your will, fear your name, and fall to their knees at your presence. "I would give you the authority to crush anyone who dares displease you. Imagine entire legions at your command, beings both dead and alive who would follow your orders without hesitation. "You could reign over a kingdom of ruin, unchallenged and unstoppable, ruling with a fist of iron. Is that not the truest form of dominance?" He came to a stop directly in front of Volk, peering up into his enraged eyes with a taunting gleam. He lowered his voice, letting his words drip into Volk''s mind like venom. "Third," he continued, his voice darker, more seductive, "you would have access to immortality. No more of this temporary strength that fades with wounds, no more fear of death lurking in the shadows. "With me, you would live on eternally, your strength preserved forever. You could tear down kingdoms, rip apart armies, and you would never grow old, never falter. "All that power, locked within you, free from decay, untouched by time. An everlasting legend, feared across all realms." He chuckled, running a finger along Volk''s immobilized arm, tracing the muscles that quivered with suppressed fury beneath his spell. "And lastly, the greatest reward of all¡­ You would become my right hand in conquest. Together, we would sweep across the planes of existence, breaking down the barriers between life and death, mortal and immortal. "You and I would bring chaos to the heavens, extinguishing the light of every kingdom that opposes us. You would stand at my side as we carve our legacy into the very fabric of reality, etched into the cosmos." The Monarch leaned closer, his voice a whisper that pulsed with dark promises. "You would be unstoppable. Together, we would be gods." But as his voice faded, a low, dangerous growl rumbled from Volk, shattering the silence. GrrrRRRRRRR!! Despite the tendrils of necromantic energy restraining him, his body began to twitch slowly, with his muscles quivering under the sheer strain of resistance. The Monarch''s gaze shifted from smug confidence to narrowed interest as he watched Volk''s body tremble, fighting back against the magic holding him in place. "V¡­ VOOOOLLLKK!!" The name erupted from Volk''s throat like a thunderclap, his voice echoing across the landscape. Veins pulsed in his arms, his muscles bulging and straining against the restraints, his entire body thrumming with an unyielding aura of raw power. It radiated off him in waves, a deep, vibrant energy that pulsed against the Monarch''s dark magic, causing the very earth to quake. The Monarch frowned, his brow furrowing as he sensed the surge of magical aura intensifying around Volk, a fury that felt like a gathering storm ready to unleash its wrath. He took a step back, a flicker of unease crossing his face as Volk''s muscles bulged, his aura blazing with a ferocity that seemed boundless, limitless. "WOOOOOON''T BE¡­" Volk''s voice growled, his eyes blazing like twin infernos, his entire being vibrating with a power that defied any attempt to bind it. The ground beneath him cracked, the earth itself seeming to resonate with his defiance as the necromantic restraints strained, fraying under the pressure of his growing aura. "UNDER ANYOOOOOOOOONE!!" Volk roared, his voice splitting the air, shattering the silence in a deafening explosion of sound that tore through the battlefield. His aura burst forth like a tidal wave, exploding with a violent force that sent shockwaves rippling outward, disrupting the Monarch''s dark magic in a spectacular display of raw energy. The tendrils binding him unraveled, disintegrating under the sheer magnitude of his power. KRA-BOOOM! S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The explosion of his aura sent debris flying, chunks of earth hurtling in every direction as the ground around him splintered, cracked, and erupted in a tempest of dust and shattered rock. The shockwave slammed into the Monarch, forcing him to stagger back, his eyes widening as he took in the sheer magnitude of Volk''s unbridled strength. The Death Monarch sneered, eyes gleaming with dark amusement as he tilted his head, watching Volk stagger to his feet. "It seems," he sneered, voice dripping with mockery, "I must convince you with more than mere words, since reasoning appears beneath you, ogre." He clenched his fist, dark energy crackling around his knuckles like storm clouds gathering over a cursed sea. Then, in a single, fluid and solid move, he lunged forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. BANG! His fist connected squarely with Volk''s chest, and an eruption of force rippled outward. Volk''s massive frame was hurled through the air, crashing into the distant ground with a thunderous impact that shook the earth, scattering dust and rocks in every direction. Before the dust could settle, the Death Monarch lowered his gaze and spread his hands wide, black tendrils of necromantic energy trailing from his fingertips as he pressed his palms against the ground. From the soil below, two portals opened, spilling forth a sickly green and crimson light that bathed the battlefield in an eerie glow. A low growl, guttural and menacing, echoed from within each portal, sending an icy chill rippling through the air. Then, with a burst of dark necromantic energy, two monstrous skeletal hounds clawed their way into existence. Each hound towered at a height that rivaled Volk himself, their skeletal bodies composed of blackened bones as thick as iron, intertwined with veins of pulsing, crimson energy. Their skulls were crowned with wickedly sharp horns, curved and menacing, and their jaws were lined with jagged teeth that glistened with deathly poison, dripping onto the ground, sizzling as it burned into the dirt. Their eye sockets blazed with a malevolent green fire, burning with an unholy hunger that promised nothing but ruin. Around their bodies, an aura of death and destruction energy oozed, swirling like a thick mist, as if the very essence of decay radiated from their forms. Skeletal abyssal hounds! Chapter 181 - 181: Test of Strength The Death Monarch smirked and extended a single finger toward Volk. "Beat him up until his feet can no longer stand back up," he commanded, his voice low and resonant, the sound of it like a death toll vibrating through the air. The two skeletal hounds lunged forward, their bodies moving with surprising speed, every step they took leaving scorch marks on the ground. As Volk struggled to his feet, they were upon him, their razor-sharp claws tearing through the air, each swipe leaving trails of death energy that crackled in their wake. Volk let out a thunderous roar, defiant and unyielding, as he braced himself, his muscles bulging with newfound fury. He swung his massive fists, one toward each hound, his movements a symphony of brute strength and raw rage. CRASH! His right fist connected with the jaw of the first hound, shattering several of its fangs with a sickening crunch, sending shards of bone flying. The creature stumbled back, its unholy fire flickering as it reoriented, eyes blazing brighter with rage. SLASH! The second hound seized the opening, slashing down with its claws, carving deep into Volk''s side. The necrotic energy seared his flesh, burning into his muscles as it attempted to weaken him. Volk''s face twisted in pain, "UURRRGGGHHH!!" but he ignored it, and one could see that his anger was only intensifying. He swung back, KABARG! catching the second hound by the skull and slamming it to the ground with a roar of fury. BAM! Dust and bone fragments scattered as he pressed the beast down, his raw strength pinning it briefly. But the hounds were relentless. The first creature recovered and lunged at his back, sinking its fangs into his shoulder, piercing deep with the venomous energy radiating from its maw. A jolt of weakness surged through him, and he gritted his teeth, feeling as if his strength was being drained with every second the creature clung to him. With a furious snarl, he swung his arm back, grasping the hound by its skull, and hurled it across the battlefield, sending it skidding across the ground in a tangle of blackened bones and necrotic flames. Yet, even as the beasts fell back, they didn''t hesitate. They regrouped, the fires in their eyes flaring with renewed hunger, as if his attacks had only spurred them to fight harder. The hounds circled him, moving in unison, waiting for an opening, their predatory instincts honed to perfection. One lunged low, snapping at his legs, while the other leaped high, aiming for his throat with claws outstretched. Volk swung his fist in a wide arc, catching the first hound mid-air and slamming it down with a thunderous BOOM!, but the second one managed to sink its claws into his thigh, raking down with brutal efficiency, tearing through flesh. Blood ran down Volk''s leg, but he barely noticed, his vision clouded with rage as he threw the hound off with a mighty shove. His breathing was heavy, ragged, and he could feel the strength ebbing from his muscles, as though the very energy within him was slipping away. He gritted his teeth, his fury blazing as he struck out again, his fists colliding with bone and necrotic energy in a clash that sent shockwaves through the air. Yet every impact seemed to take a toll on him, his limbs feeling heavier, his movements just a fraction slower with each exchange. Then, as he delivered a crushing blow to one of the hounds, BARRGGHH!! sending it sprawling across the ground, he felt a strange, chilling sensation creep over him-a sense of weakness, like his very life force was being siphoned away. It was then he realized, with growing alarm, that his strength was indeed being drained. His muscles felt like they were straining against an invisible weight, his once-mighty fists slowing as if burdened by an unseen force. His eyes flicked back to the Death Monarch, who stood watching with an infuriatingly calm expression, arms folded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ¡­ The Death Monarch''s lips curled into a sinister smile as he watched Volk struggle, his curiosity piqued by the ogre''s stubborn resilience. Each time the brute rose, snarling and bleeding, he seemed just a shade stronger, his fury acting as fuel, making his strength climb. But how? The thought intrigued him¡ªan ogre that drew power from anger, growing stronger each time it was knocked down? That, he had to see more of. Stretching his bony fingers, the Death Monarch murmured an incantation, his voice a low, echoing chant that seemed to pull the very shadows around him. Dark energy rippled through the air, coiling from his fingertips like smoke. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he opened several shimmering portals, each radiating a different aura¡ªone thick with toxic fumes, another crackling with electric sparks, a third emitting a chilling frost, and yet another leaking molten lava that dripped onto the ground, sizzling and hissing. From these rifts stepped beasts unlike any Volk had faced. The first creature lumbered forward, an abomination of bulging muscles and slick, glistening skin that dripped with green, noxious liquid, leaving a trail of rot in its wake. Its face was hidden beneath a hood of sagging flesh, but the fanged mouth beneath it twisted in a grotesque smile. This was the Venomous Devourer¡ªa beast that oozed poison from every pore, able to rot anything it touched. Its breath alone made the air turn thick and sour, and Volk could feel the burn of it even from a distance. Behind the Devourer came another creature, its form slender but coiled tight with lean, sinewy muscle. Its eyes gleamed with a feral intelligence, and its entire body crackled with volatile electricity, arcs of lightning surging over its spiny back. This was the Thunder Lurker, a beast that hunted by charging the air with electricity, unleashing blasts of lightning strong enough to turn stone to ash. A third beast emerged, its body massive and plated with ice that shimmered like diamonds under a pale blue glow. Each of its steps left frost in its wake, the ground beneath it freezing solid as the creature let out a low, growling snarl. The Icebound Colossus loomed with a frigid aura, exhaling clouds of freezing mist that made Volk''s breath catch, his skin pricking painfully with cold. The final beast stomped forward, its entire body a shifting mass of molten rock and fire. Its skin bubbled and cracked, rivers of lava coursing along its limbs as it moved. This was the Inferno Behemoth, a creature born of fire, leaving smoldering footprints that set the ground ablaze. The Death Monarch raised a hand, gesturing toward Volk as if presenting him with a gift wrapped in dark magic. "Ogre," he called out, his voice smooth and taunting, "you claim to grow stronger with anger. Let''s test that claim, shall we?" He smirked, his tone laced with amusement. "Each of these¡­ champions have a gift you''ll find most unpleasant. Try not to bore me." Volk bared his teeth, GRRRRR his massive chest heaving, eyes narrowing as the creatures surrounded him. His gaze locked onto the Death Monarch for just a moment, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. Then, with a thunderous roar, he charged the nearest beast¡ªthe Venomous Devourer¡ªhis fists raised, ready to crush it into the ground. But the Devourer was ready. As Volk closed the distance, it opened its gaping maw, spraying a thick, green mist that enveloped the air around him. HSSSSSS! The toxic cloud stung his eyes and choked his lungs, and he could feel his skin tingling, burning as the poison clung to him. Volk staggered, his strength faltering under the onslaught. His vision blurred, the edges of his mind hazy with the sickly fumes. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "RAAAAAH!" With a furious bellow, he swung his fists through the cloud, his anger pushing him forward. His fist connected with the Devourer''s skull with a crunch, sending a sickening shockwave up his arm, but even as the creature reeled back, Volk''s hand burned, the poison eating into his skin. He roared in pain, "UGAAARRGGHH!! slapping the toxins away, shaking his hand furiously as the venom seemed to cling, eating through muscle and bone with a vicious persistence. Before he could recover, the Thunder Lurker was upon him. The beast darted forward, lightning fast, a blur of crackling energy. With a hiss, it sank its claws into Volk''s side, unleashing a bolt of pure electricity that surged through his body. ZZZZZZAP! His muscles seized, his limbs locked as the electricity coursed through him, frying nerve and muscle alike. Smoke curled from his skin as the Lurker''s claws dug deeper, its grip unrelenting, its eyes alight with sadistic glee. Chapter 182 - 182: More more more "GAAAAHHH!" . Volk''s scream was one of both fury and agony, his mind on fire with the raw, blistering pain. But through the haze of suffering, his rage only grew. He could feel something primal and dark welling up within him, a force that fed on his pain, that made his blood boil and his vision go red. With a sudden burst of strength, he broke free, slamming a fist down onto the Lurker''s head with all his might. CRASH! The Lurker hit the ground hard, but even as it skidded back, Volk''s legs buckled. He barely had time to catch his breath before the Icebound Colossus lumbered forward, its massive shadow falling over him. A bone-chilling cold radiated from the creature, so intense that Volk''s skin turned pale, frost creeping up his limbs. With a guttural growl, the Colossus swung a massive, icy fist, hitting Volk square in the chest. THOOM! The impact drove the air from his lungs, ice crystals forming around his chest as the shock of cold penetrated him to the core. His muscles felt stiff, his bones aching from the frost. But even as his breath came out in short, pained gasps, the rage inside him burned hotter. His skin glowed faintly, a deep, pulsing red that seemed to grow with every blow he took, his fury simmering into something tangible. The Inferno Behemoth, seeing its moment, raised a molten fist and brought it crashing down. Volk barely managed to roll aside, the ground erupting in flames as lava spilled across the battlefield. The Behemoth let out a rumbling roar, lifting its fist again, preparing to bring it down on Volk with a final, crushing blow. But Volk''s anger had reached a fever pitch. His entire body was glowing, veins pulsing as his strength surged. He let out a bellowing roar, muscles bulging as he charged at the Behemoth. He felt the intense heat, the skin on his arms blistering and charring as he punched through the molten barrier, ignoring the pain, his focus solely on the Death Monarch''s creatures. With a force that defied reason, Volk''s fist connected with the Behemoth''s chest, shattering the molten shell and sending chunks of magma flying in all directions. The Behemoth stumbled, its molten insides exposed, but even as it began to collapse, the venom, ice, and shock of the previous attacks lingered, weakening him from within. The Death Monarch watched with fascination, his eyes gleaming with twisted admiration. He watched the ogre rise from the destruction, his hulking form shifting, each breath drawing in more power, more fury. He couldn''t help but be impressed. Volk''s wounds, which had just moments ago marred his flesh, were knitting themselves back together with an eerie speed. His muscles pulsed, veins bulging like iron cords as if pulling in the very essence of life around him, siphoning strength from the very air. A sudden, raucous laugh tore from the Death Monarch''s throat, echoing across the battlefield like the crack of thunder. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Yes! YES! Impress me, Ogre!" he roared, his voice dripping with elation. "You''re far more resilient than I ever dared to imagine! Each blow should have shattered you, each strike should have broken that pitiful flesh, yet here you stand¡ªstronger than ever! Hah! The power of your fury¡ªit''s¡­ it''s breathtaking!" His voice reverberated, rising to a fever pitch as he observed the transformation, a twisted hunger in his gaze. His skeletal fingers twitched with the urge to summon more, to test every fiber of Volk''s strength. "Look at you!" he bellowed, his tone filled with both mockery and admiration, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "An ogre, a mere brute of flesh and bone, yet your spirit¡ªyes, it grows with each strike! You absorb pain as though it were nectar, and turn it into a weapon! A weapon forged in the fires of wrath and honed on the blade of suffering! Hahaha! Oh, how delightful!" With an almost reverent expression, he stepped forward, arms wide, as if welcoming Volk into his fold. "Do you realize what you are, Ogre? Do you understand the potential you hold?" He spoke each word with a theatrical flourish, his voice filled with a twisted reverence. "Imagine you, leading my armies, a colossus at the forefront, each strike of your fists raining devastation upon all who stand in our way! "Every kingdom, every fortress, every realm would crumble under your might! None could hope to stand against the combined force of your fury and my magic!" He gestured expansively, his bony hands casting shadows that seemed to dance with dark energy. "Picture it, Ogre or should I call you my Warchief VOOOLK¡ªthe lands burning, cities leveled to dust, entire civilizations bowing or breaking under the weight of our conquest! And you, my unstoppable juggernaut, my Titan of Wrath! The realms would tremble at the mere whisper of your name. ''The Death Monarch and his Unbreakable Ogre!''" His laughter rippled like a sickening lullaby, his mouth twisted in a crazed grin. "But I wonder¡­" he mused, his voice dipping into a contemplative tone, the mania in his eyes sharpening. "I wonder¡ªwhat is your limit, beast? How far can you go before your flesh gives way, before your bones shatter?" . His eyes glowed with an almost childlike curiosity. "I want to see it! I must see it! I want to know what lies at the very peak of your power, to witness the apex of an ogre''s strength! Do you hear me? Show me! SHOW ME THE FURY THAT DRIVES YOU TO DEFY EVEN DEATH!" His voice grew louder, each word rising like a crescendo, his excitement spilling over in waves of unrestrained delight. "Imagine it, ogre¡ªa power so vast, so absolute, that the heavens themselves would bow before us! I could give you kingdoms to crush, empires to trample! "You, the wrathful storm that wipes clean the slate of this world, and I, the orchestrator of it all! We would be legends!" He threw his arms wide, eyes blazing with frenzied anticipation. "A tale for eternity¡ªa tale of blood and ruin, of chaos and conquest!" "But it doesn''t end there, does it, Volk?" His voice dropped, almost a whisper, eyes narrowing as they bored into Volk''s own. "You, with your boundless rage, your insatiable hunger for power¡ªyou could become the force of death itself! My armies, my creatures¡ªthey would bend to you. "Every fallen warrior, every slain beast, would be reborn under your command. You, the Commander of the Undead! Imagine the power, the immortality that could be yours, Ogre!" The Death Monarch leaned forward, hands clenched, his voice trembling with his own fevered excitement. "Don''t you see? Under my guidance, you could rise above this world, a god of carnage, a beast that devours all who oppose you. But tell me, Volk," he sneered, his tone both mocking and tempting, "is your rage truly boundless? Do you have what it takes to reach the pinnacle of strength? I have witnessed countless creatures break under the weight of their own power, seen champions crumble when faced with true darkness." He paused, his skeletal fingers curling as dark energy pulsed through them, his grin widening as he reveled in his twisted vision. "You could be so much more. But only if you give in. Only if you surrender to the fury, to the bloodlust. Only then will you reach heights beyond mortal comprehension. You, leading an army of the dead, unstoppable, undying! An inferno of hatred and wrath that consumes everything in its path." He threw his head back and laughed, the sound an unholy symphony of madness and excitement. "YES, OGRE! Prove to me that you are worthy of this power! Show me the wrath that has brought you back from the brink time and time again! Make me believe that you are the one who will bring ruin to the realms alongside me!" As his laughter subsided, his gaze locked onto Volk, his grin both challenging and hungry. "What are you waiting for, brute? Show me everything!" Chapter 183 - 183: DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE, VOOOOOOLLK!!! A deep, guttural roar tore through Volk''s throat as he staggered to his feet, fury burning like molten steel in his veins. The raw, primal rage within him boiled over, a force that refused to be contained, swelling with each blow, with each pulse of pain. His muscles bulged larger, fibers stretching under the relentless pressure of his own wrath. He could feel his strength multiplying, the sensation like an unending tide crashing within his core, driving him to rise, to fight harder, to destroy anything that dared stand in his path. But the Death Monarch only laughed, his mirth a twisted melody that filled the air, echoing off the shadowed cliffs and broken stones surrounding them. His bony hands flickered in the air, weaving intricate patterns as he called forth more undead monstrosities. Massive skeletal warriors, some towering above Volk, emerged from fissures in the earth, their bones fused with shadow and enchanted metal that radiated dark energy. Snarling hounds with empty, flame-lit eyes bounded toward Volk, their jaws dripping with black, corrosive drool that hissed as it splattered against the ground. "YES!" the Death Monarch shrieked, voice crackling with madness. "Rage, beast! Feed that endless fury! Each drop of blood, every howl of agony¡ªit only makes you stronger, doesn''t it?" He extended a skeletal finger, sending a pulse of dark magic toward Volk. "Let''s see just how deep this rage runs!" As Volk took a shuddering step forward, a sickly green bolt of magic struck his chest, crackling against his skin like acid. The magic dug deep, searing through layers of muscle, burning its way to the bone. A guttural growl escaped him, his massive fists clenching as he stumbled but refused to fall. His eyes blazed red with rage, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought against the intense pain. Yet, with each ounce of torment, his body responded, pulsing with more strength, his muscles hardening like iron, his skin tightening, regenerating around the wound even as the pain continued to pulse. The Death Monarch''s laughter only grew, his skeletal form twitching in sheer ecstasy. "Marvelous!" he spat, watching as Volk''s very being absorbed the pain, transmuting it into power. "More! Let''s see how much more you can take!" Another flick of his wrist, and a shimmering bolt of necrotic energy blasted from his hand. It struck Volk in the leg, tearing into his flesh, charring the skin and exposing the muscle beneath. Volk roared in agony, the sound reverberating through the night like thunder. Yet, as he struggled to keep upright, his flesh began to knit itself back together, thicker, stronger, the new muscle coiling with raw power. "Come on, brute!" the Death Monarch taunted, his eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "Does that hurt? Or is that just another fuel for the fire?" He lifted his hand, his fingers crackling with dark energy, and loosed a barrage of smaller spells. Each one was a shard of concentrated pain¡ªsmall, quick, but devastating, tearing into Volk like barbs. His arms, his torso, his legs¡ªall seared with fresh wounds as the magic bit into him. Yet with every blast, with every strike, Volk grew larger, his rage swelling, eclipsing the pain. The ogre''s form quaked, his breathing now a guttural, booming noise that rattled his chest. He planted one massive foot into the ground, the earth trembling as his strength surged, unstoppable. His eyes gleamed, blazing with unfiltered fury, a fury that knew no bounds, that refused to be quenched. The Death Monarch''s excitement was now nearing frenzy. His skeletal form quivered, hands weaving new spells with fervor, his eyes gleaming with wild joy. "Yes! YES!" he shrieked, now casting larger and stronger spells with each pulse of Volk''s wrath. "You are indeed a wonder, a glorious beast of rage! Each spell¡ªeach flicker of agony¡ªonly fans the flames, doesn''t it?" He raised both hands high, and dark energy crackled around him, forming into dense orbs that radiated menace, swirling with concentrated malice. With a cackle, he loosed the orbs, each one streaking toward Volk like a falling star. They exploded upon impact, erupting in plumes of vile green and purple fire, tearing fresh wounds into Volk''s flesh. The pain seared, white-hot and unrelenting, yet Volk did not falter. The wounds closed almost as fast as they opened, the magic fueling the regeneration, feeding his rage. The Death Monarch watched in delight, his face twisted into a grin so wide it threatened to split his skull. He was consumed with fascination, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. "Incredible! Truly incredible! Tell me, brute¡ªdoes it hurt? Or does it simply make you stronger? Do you even know the limits of your rage? Can it carry you to the ends of power itself?" He took a step forward, his skeletal feet scraping the earth. "Perhaps I need to bring out more. Yes¡­ more to test the very boundaries of your might!" Summoning another spell, he twisted his hands, summoning an enormous wave of dark energy that swept across the ground like a tidal wave. Volk was engulfed, his body battered by the crashing wave of necromantic power, but as it washed over him, his strength surged even further, each new injury another reason for his wrath to swell. The ground quaked under his weight as he roared, his voice echoing across the landscape, shaking the very stones beneath them. "YES!" the Death Monarch screeched, his voice a fevered pitch. "Fight, ogre! Rise from the ashes of your own pain and show me the true might of your fury!" ¡­ On the other hand, the jeering laughter of the Death Monarch echoed, taunting Volk with every bone-chilling cackle. Each spell the Death Monarch cast felt like another insult, another challenge, his dark magic swirling around Volk as if the ogre was some pet under his control. But Volk was no one''s pet. Through the haze of fury and pain, memories began to surface¡ªfragmented, blurred by rage but clear enough to feel, clear enough to cut into him deeper than any dark spell ever could. In his past life, he''d been weak. Fragile. He remembered that narrow hospital bed, the one he''d practically lived in, and the sterile white walls that he couldn''t escape from. He could still feel the cold metal of the wheelchair that had been his prison, trapping him in a body too frail to fight back. He''d been born with bones that could snap, lungs that labored for every breath, muscles that refused to carry him. And in that life, he was ignored, shoved aside, treated as though he were invisible or worse¡ªas if he were nothing. He remembered the cruel laughter of children, the taunts of "cripple" thrown his way with no remorse. The adults had been no better, their pity-filled eyes stinging more than any insult ever could. He''d seen their looks, their soft, meaningless words of sympathy that they didn''t mean, only offered because they felt they had to. They looked at him and saw someone weak, someone to be pitied, someone incapable. In his chest, something coiled tighter, a well of bitterness and fury that had waited a lifetime to burst. And here he was again¡ªmocked, underestimated, treated as if he were still that helpless boy in the wheelchair. The Death Monarch''s twisted smirk, his hollow laughter, the way he looked down on Volk like he was no more than an insect to be toyed with¡ªit was too much. The memory of all that weakness, all that indignity, clashed with the towering power he felt now, this strength that raged inside him, begging to be unleashed. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His breath came in deep, shuddering gulps, his chest heaving as every fiber of his being burned. He clenched his fists, his fingers digging into his palms, drawing blood, the pain mingling with the raw fury boiling within him. And then, he threw his head back, his voice a primal roar that shook the air itself. "DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE¡ªVOOOOOOLLLK!" The sound echoed across the battlefield, thunderous, defiant. The power within him ignited like wildfire, racing through his veins with such intensity that his vision blurred. His muscles surged, every inch of his massive form swelling with newfound strength, the sheer force of it tearing through his skin, which regenerated instantly, stronger than before. Chapter 184 - 184: EMPOWERMENT The battlefield fell silent as every pair of eyes, Orc, Ogre, and Death Knight alike, turned toward the center where their Warchief was locked in a titanic struggle against the Death Monarch. Orcs and Ogres who had moments ago been crushed by the Death Knights'' relentless attacks now stood transfixed. Their bodies felt locked, rooted in place, as if some invisible chain held them fast, denying them even the instinct to flee. But all their eyes¡ªevery single one¡ªwere drawn to Volk. They had always known their Warchief was strong, fierce, even unmatched. But this...this was something else. This was a side of Volk they had never witnessed, a creature beyond any nightmare they could have imagined. Volk''s body was battered, his skin charred and sliced from the Death Monarch''s spells, yet he rose again and again, each time stronger, each time fiercer. His muscles bulged, ripping and tearing under the pressure only to reform, denser and more resilient. Energy poured from him, a dark and chaotic aura that was almost tangible, warping the air around him in waves of rippling heat. Even the ground under his feet cracked and crumbled from the force of his presence, as if the earth itself couldn''t bear to hold his weight. And then, Volk screamed. It wasn''t a scream of pain or fear. It was a raw, animalistic roar¡ªa sound of defiance, of pure rage that thundered across the battlefield. It was a scream born from lifetimes of suffering and resentment, a roar that echoed with the fury of every indignity he had ever endured. His voice was deep, primal, shaking the very ground beneath him, shattering the eerie silence that had fallen over the field. "VAAAAAAAGHHHHH!!" The force of his scream sent shockwaves rippling through the air, a physical pressure that battered those around him. Even the Death Knights, so unfeeling and unbreakable, seemed to waver in their steps, their hollow eyes flickering with the slightest hint of hesitation. Orcs and Ogres felt their knees buckle under the sheer weight of his voice. Some clutched their ears, trying to block out the brutal force of the sound, but it was inescapable¡ªa howl of power that pulsed through bone and muscle, vibrating in their very cores. The Death Monarch, who had been arrogantly smirking, watching Volk with something close to amusement, suddenly found himself taken aback. This Ogre¡ªthis raw, untamed beast¡ªwas a force he hadn''t fully understood. The Death Monarch''s smile faded, replaced by a calculating, wary expression as Volk''s energy continued to surge, spiraling into an almost monstrous aura around him. Volk''s eyes blazed with a dark fire, his fangs bared in a snarl so fierce it bordered on madness. Every insult, every ounce of disrespect, every moment he''d been looked down upon was now fuel for his rage. He was not just an Ogre. He was something beyond, something terrifying, a living storm of hatred and strength. And then he roared again, louder this time, his voice carrying the fury of a thousand battles, the strength of a thousand lifetimes: "NO ONE¡ªCONTROLS¡ªVOLK!" With that scream, his aura exploded outward, a tempest of raw power that sent nearby Death Knights flying back, slamming them into the ground as if they weighed nothing. The Orcs and Ogres could only watch in stunned silence, their Warchief transforming before their eyes into a creature of legend¡ªa monster among monsters, a warrior who could shatter armies with his rage alone. The Death Monarch''s cold, calculating gaze hardened, but beneath his detached veneer, he could feel something unfamiliar¡ªan edge of unease creeping into his mind. Something is happening. ¡­ With a guttural roar, Volk surged forward, launching himself like a living cannonball straight at the Death Monarch. His powerful legs tore through the ground, muscles flexing, veins bulging. Every ounce of his being channeled into a single, devastating punch aimed directly at his opponent. The air crackled around his fist, an aura of primal power that seemed to scorch the very space it occupied. But the Death Monarch was swift. With a sneering expression, he sidestepped the strike, raising his knee into Volk''s torso with the precision of a master. THUD! The impact was brutal, folding Volk over in mid-air, the force launching him backward as if he weighed no more than a ragdoll. His body tumbled, rolling through the dirt, each impact sending tremors through the battlefield. Yet, before the dust even had time to settle, Volk was on his feet again. His face twisted in raw fury, blood trickling from his mouth, eyes blazing with undeterred defiance. He charged once more, roaring, his massive frame hurtling forward like an unstoppable juggernaut. The Death Monarch''s eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as he twisted, lifting his leg in a powerful roundhouse kick that crashed into Volk''s face. CRACK! The sickening sound of bone meeting bone echoed out as Volk''s jaw snapped sideways, his body hurtling through the air once again. He crashed into the earth with an impact that splintered the ground, KABAM creating a crater around him, dirt and debris flying outward. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But there he was, rising to his feet almost immediately, fists clenched, eyes wild with fury. He snarled, low and guttural, like a beast cornered yet unbreakable. He spat blood onto the ground, the metallic taste fueling his anger even further. Without a second''s hesitation, Volk sprinted back, charging once again at the Death Monarch. The Death Monarch sneered, his amusement flickering into something else¡ªa hint of disdain, perhaps, but mixed with curiosity. He waited, watching as Volk came closer, and with a nonchalant twist of his torso, he slammed his elbow down onto Volk''s head. WHAM! The force of the strike buried Volk''s face into the ground, a shockwave erupting outward as his skull made contact with the earth. Volk lay motionless for a beat, buried in the ground. Dust rose in a thick cloud around him, the faint sounds of rock and rubble settling. The Orcs and Ogres held their breath, eyes wide with disbelief. Their Warchief, buried face-first in the dirt, struck down as if he were no more than an insect. But then, with a growl, the ground shifted. Slowly, Volk''s hand clawed upward, fingers grasping at the dirt as he lifted himself once more. His face was bloodied, his eyes gleaming with a furious light, unyielding and unbroken. And then, like a spring released, he shot forward, his body blurring in speed, his fist aimed right for the Death Monarch''s smug face. The Death Monarch''s eyes flickered with something akin to annoyance as he caught Volk''s fist mid-air, twisting and flipping him, sending him crashing down on his back with a brutal SLAM! The impact sent tremors across the battlefield, Volk''s body bouncing slightly from the force. But even as his vision blurred from the blow, he was already forcing himself back up, every ounce of pain seeming only to fuel the rage that coursed through his veins. Again and again, this brutal cycle continued. The Death Monarch would land a blow¡ªsometimes a punch, sometimes a savage kick or an almost mocking headbutt¡ªand each time, Volk would be sent sprawling, crashing into the earth, his bones rattling from the impact. Yet, every single time, he would rise again. The stronger the blow, the more furious he seemed. Each hit added fuel to the fire, a relentless force that defied even logic. BANG! Another punch. THUD! A merciless kick. CRACK! A headbutt that left Volk momentarily dazed, blood pouring from his forehead. But each time he was hurled back, he didn''t simply stand. No¡ªhe launched himself forward with even greater intensity, his body bouncing back as if the very act of being thrown away was empowering him. Each impact with the ground seemed to charge him, somehow feeding his strength back to him tenfold. Every time he was slammed down, it was as if some internal reservoir of rage and energy filled to the brim, surging through his veins like fire. The Death Monarch''s amusement slowly gave way to confusion. He could feel it now, that faint but unmistakable sensation¡ªthe Ogre''s power wasn''t just growing. It was sharpening, solidifying, each bounce, each impact giving him something new. He was absorbing the very momentum of his falls, drawing strength from every blow he sustained. Each time he crashed, he was reborn stronger, faster, more resilient. It was like nothing the Death Monarch had seen before, a raw, primal power evolving right before his eyes. The Death Monarch''s curiosity deepened, his cold eyes narrowing as he studied Volk''s every movement, every grimace of pain that twisted into a snarl of fury. This was no ordinary Ogre¡ªno mere brute relying on muscle alone. This creature, this Volk, was defying the natural order. Chapter 185 - 185: HUNDREDFOLD Volk''s body was a whirlwind of primal fury, his muscles pulsating with each step, each thunderous strike against the Death Monarch. His roars echoed across the field, a guttural bellow that grew stronger with each impact. Blood and dust coated his skin, yet he was unbroken¡ªeach hit thrown at him only served to make him fiercer, his body hardening, his spirit blazing brighter. The Death Monarch laughed, a low, sinister sound that filled the battlefield with its chill. His skeletal form shifted as he watched the Ogre rise again, amused but increasingly intrigued. "Seventeenth empowerment," he murmured, feeling the rise in Volk''s power like a crackling surge through the air. His interest was piqued as he sense tod the depths of Volk''s rage deepening, churning like a storm. Volk charged again, his fist a battering ram of raw force, and with a flick of his wrist, the Death Monarch swatted him aside, sending him sprawling across the ground. However, in mere moments, Volk was on his feet once more, rage radiating from him like molten heat. "Eighteenth empowerment," the Death Monarch taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. He could feel it, the Ogre''s strength blooming, raw and untamed. Again, Volk lunged forward, each movement a testament to his unbreakable will. This time, his punch was a blur, his speed magnified, but the Death Monarch simply sidestepped, delivering a swift kick to Volk''s gut, launching him back. "Nineteenth empowerment!" he called out, a delighted spark in his eyes. He relished this grotesque symphony of pain and growth, witnessing Volk evolve before him with every beatdown. Volk slammed back onto the ground, each crack in the earth around him seeming to deepen as he rose yet again. He let out a guttural scream, and the very air vibrated with his fury. He launched himself forward, faster, stronger, each sinew in his body coiled like a spring, and his fist connected with the Death Monarch''s arm in an explosion of power. The Death Monarch sneered, barely moving, but now, a faint twinge of exertion crossed his brow. "Ah, the twentieth empowerment," he remarked, almost gleefully. "How far can you go, Ogre?" Volk didn''t hesitate. Even as his knuckles bled and bones cracked, he attacked again. And again. Each time, the Death Monarch would counter with an effortless slap, a brutal backhand, or a bone-crushing stomp. Every blow sent Volk hurtling away, battered and bloodied, yet unyielding. "Twenty-fifth empowerment¡­!" The Death Monarch''s voice rang out, triumphant, as he raised a fist and struck Volk with a vicious uppercut, sending him skyward like a missile. Volk crashed back to the ground, the impact leaving a massive crater, dust and rock flying in all directions. Yet, he rose, panting, eyes blazing with an unquenchable fire. The Death Monarch''s face lit up, the exhilaration in his twisted smile gleaming. "Ah, yes! The thirtieth empowerment! You''re becoming something quite¡­ interesting!" Volk launched himself back, his punches now trailing energy, each blow seeming to ignite with the force of his strength. However, the Death Monarch met him, deflecting, countering, each strike a brutal response that sent Volk flying. Yet, with each collision, with each bruise and wound, Volk''s power escalated. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Thirty-fifth empowerment!" the Death Monarch mocked, delivering a bone-jarring punch to Volk''s shoulder. "You''re gaining, Ogre!" he laughed, stepping back as Volk, slower to rise now, yet still defiant, stood tall. His chest heaved, his body bloodied, but there was a new light in his eyes¡ªa light that matched his fury. CRASH! Volk surged forward with a roar, his fists faster, harder, and the Death Monarch responded in kind. Each hit struck deeper, each counter more fierce. "Forty-third empowerment!" the Death Monarch called out with gleeful excitement, his voice rising with a manic thrill. He backhanded Volk with a force that shattered a row of trees behind him, but Volk only grinned, his lips split and bleeding. He charged again, his strength seemingly limitless. WHAM! A headbutt. Volk was thrown back, staggering but unfazed. He dashed forward, his muscles taut, his blows more calculated, his stance unwavering. "Fifty-seventh empowerment," the Death Monarch shouted, his eyes wild with exhilaration. "The limits of your power are astonishing! How many times can you withstand me, brute?" Volk roared, his voice raw, his eyes alight with an otherworldly intensity. With every blow, he was being reborn, stronger, faster, his body adapting, evolving in response to the punishment. His strikes hit like meteors, each one shattering the ground beneath them. His aura blazed around him, each wave of his rage adding to the violent crescendo of his power. "Seventy-fifth empowerment!" The Death Monarch was almost shrieking with laughter now, his hands trembling with delight as he delivered a punishing blow to Volk''s chest. Yet, Volk didn''t falter¡ªhe lunged, catching the Death Monarch off guard as he managed to land a blow across his face, sending him skidding back a few steps. The Death Monarch''s eyes glinted with genuine thrill as he wiped the blood from his lip, staring at Volk with wild, boundless excitement. "Eighty-fifth empowerment!" The Death Monarch threw his head back, laughing with mad glee. "Incredible, Ogre! You grow with each strike! I can feel your very cells screaming, adapting!" His tone turned darker, more frenzied. "Yes! Yes, this is what I want to see! Continue, show me more!" Volk''s fists crackled with pure, unadulterated power, each movement of his body burning the air around him, making the heat surpass the hotness of a lava. He bellowed, Grrrrr, charging once more with strikes that are as loud as a whipping blade. The Death monarch easily countered, deflected and misdirected all Volk''s attacks. And their clashes were like thunder rumbles in the sky. "Ninety-third empowerment," the Death monarch crowned, his undead face flushed with crazed mania. He met Volk''s charge head on, Kabam! With their colliding strength shaking the earth beneath them. Then, with a final crazed roar, the Death monarch stepped back with his undead eyes wide filled with awe and unexplainable delight. "The hundredth fold empowerment, impossible, unbelievable," he whispered, almost reverently. His hands unconsciously came together, like a slow deliberate clap! Clap¡­ Clap¡­ Clap¡­ Clap¡­ His gaze was fixed on Volk, with an expression of genuine admiration, mingling with a genuine amusement along with it. The Death Monarch let out a loud, exultant laugh, with his arms thrown open wide as he looked at Volk with a twinkle in his eyes. "Incredible, remarks, I, the Death Monarch never expected to witness such an Ogre that can empower himself hundredfold! Must have been a realm where you came from." The Death Monarch would salivate, "And, now, we are on par when it comes to strength and magic!" The Death Monarch''s skeletal frame shifted into a more focused stance, his eerie gaze locked on Volk. His grin stretched wider, a twisted mockery of anticipation as he stretched his arms, cracking the bones as if waking from a long, ancient slumber. "Ahh¡­ finally. This is what I hoped for¡ªa real challenge. And here I thought I''d have to wait an eternity to feel this thrill again." Volk charged with all his might, his fists swinging like hammers, BANG BAN BANG! each strike accompanied by a guttural roar that shook the ground. But the Death Monarch was ready, his body moving fluidly, dodging and weaving with almost effortless grace. "HA! Is that it, brute?" he taunted, sidestepping Volk''s punch and delivering a swift elbow to his ribs, sending the Ogre stumbling sideways. "Your power is impressive, but your form? Sloppy. Here, let me teach you how a true fighter moves!" BAM! He drove his knee into Volk''s gut, making the massive Ogre double over before slamming his fist into Volk''s back, sending him sprawling across the ground. Volk growled, GURAAAAAHH!! pushing himself up, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. His body was battered, bruised, yet he was unbroken, each hit fueling the fire of his rage. The Death Monarch chuckled as Volk rose to his feet. "Come on then, get up. This is just a warm-up!" he sneered. "You may have power, but strength alone isn''t enough. You need precision, control." He demonstrated with a quick jab aimed at Volk''s shoulder, swiftly following it with a spinning backfist that knocked Volk off his feet. Volk let out a deafening roar, his voice tearing through the air, "DO NOT MOCK VOOOOOOLK!" Chapter 186 - 186: Introducing, Magic "Oh, but you make it so easy," the Death Monarch cackled, sidestepping Volk''s furious lunge and twisting his arm, forcing him to his knees. "Hand-to-hand combat is an art, Ogre. It''s not about wild swings; it''s about efficiency." He pressed his boot against Volk''s back, pushing him into the dirt before stepping back with a mocking gesture. "You''re strong, but you''re like a child with a sledgehammer." Volk''s muscles tensed, veins bulging as he pushed himself up, his breathing ragged but filled with pure rage. He swung wildly, each punch laced with the intent to obliterate. But the Death Monarch danced around him, almost lazily, landing counter after counter with brutal precision. "Forty-five," he laughed, delivering a bone-jarring punch to Volk''s jaw. "Forty-six!" A vicious knee to the stomach. "Come on, is that all you''ve got?" Volk staggered back, panting, his body screaming with pain yet alive with a fire that refused to be extinguished. His eyes locked onto the Death Monarch, pure hatred blazing within them. "V-VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ DESTROY¡­ YOU¡­" The Death Monarch smirked, shaking his head. "Then show me, brute. Show me something more than just blind rage." He opened his arms, taunting Volk to strike again. "Come on, I want to see if you can do more than just swing wildly." With a roar that echoed through the battlefield, Volk charged, his massive fists aiming to crush the Death Monarch. But each punch met empty air as the Death Monarch ducked and sidestepped, moving with a grace that was almost mocking. "You''re predictable, brute!" he sneered, delivering a brutal uppercut that snapped Volk''s head back, sending him stumbling. But Volk''s fury was relentless. He roared, lunging forward again, throwing a flurry of punches that shattered the ground around them. "VOLK¡­ STRONGER¡­ THAN YOU!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the very earth beneath them. But the Death Monarch merely chuckled, his skeletal form weaving through Volk''s attacks like smoke. "Strength alone won''t win this, Ogre," he taunted, sidestepping another punch and slamming his fist into Volk''s ribs with enough force to crack bone. "You need skill. Precision. Focus. But all you have is anger. It makes you weak." Volk let out another roar, his fury reaching a fever pitch. Each missed punch seemed to fuel his rage even further, his muscles swelling, his aura blazing like a firestorm. He lunged again, swinging with all his might, only for the Death Monarch to dodge once more, delivering a brutal punch to Volk''s stomach that made him double over. "Are you even listening, brute?" the Death Monarch sneered, grabbing Volk by the collar and pulling him close. "It''s not enough to be strong; you have to be smart. Controlled." He shoved Volk back, watching with amusement as the Ogre staggered, his breaths heavy, his body trembling with barely restrained fury. But as the Death Monarch readied himself to strike again, he paused, a sudden realization flickering across his face. Volk was¡­ different. His aura felt denser, his muscles have somehow become even more defined when he reached a hundredfold empowerment. Suddenly, the Death Monarch had let out a punch that would shatter Volk''s bone earlier, however, during this time, Volk was barely being phased. "Hmm?" An eerie smile spread across his face as he stared at the Ogre. "Interesting," the Death Monarch mumbled, his voice filled with dark and gleeful curiosity, "Don''t tell me you have grown even stronger?" The battle raged on, a brutal symphony of fury and force, punctuated by Volk''s roaring strikes and the Death Monarch''s cold, mocking laughter. Volk charged, his fist a hammer of raw power aimed squarely at the Death Monarch. For the first time, the blow forced the undead sorcerer back two steps, his bony feet digging small grooves into the earth. The Death Monarch''s laugh faltered, just for a moment. "Ahh," he sneered, steadying himself. "Perhaps I underestimated your growth, Ogre." He dusted off his robe as though it had been dirtied by Volk''s touch. "But," he added, his voice darkening, "don''t get cocky just because you landed one hit." Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s chest heaved as he straightened up, a smug grin spreading across his blood-smeared face. "VOLK¡­ ISN''T¡­ WEAK!" he bellowed, his voice vibrating through the air. He cracked his knuckles, his arms flexing as he readied himself. "VOLK IS STRONGER THAN YOU!" The Death Monarch only chuckled, tilting his head as he looked at Volk with a gleam of amusement. "Oh, I don''t doubt it, brute. I can feel your strength¡­ rising, swelling like a storm. But strength alone is nothing against one who wields precision." He darted forward, his bony fist driving into Volk''s side with a sickening crunch. Volk''s grin faded as he staggered, the pain shooting up his ribs. Yet, the Ogre''s eyes only blazed hotter. "VOLK DOESN''T¡­ CARE!" he roared, swinging back with his fist. It connected, sending the Death Monarch stumbling, but he quickly regained his balance, his eyes narrowing. "You''re a stubborn one, aren''t you?" he sneered, his bony fingers flexing as he readied for the next blow. He lunged forward, striking Volk''s jaw with a swift punch, then following with another to his chest, and a final blow to his gut, making Volk reel back with a grimace. But the Ogre barely had time to catch his breath before the Death Monarch closed in again, each punch landing like a hammer, bone against flesh, breaking and bruising. "Volk¡­ is¡­ unstoppable!" the Ogre grunted, each word a defiant shout as he pushed back against the onslaught. With every impact, he felt himself hardening, his body seeming to adapt to the punishment, his rage flaring hotter with each blow. And then, in a single, explosive move, he unleashed a brutal backhand that caught the Death Monarch off-guard, sending him staggering back a few steps. "Impressive," the Death Monarch admitted, rubbing his jaw with a grin. "But can you keep up with me?" He surged forward, delivering a flurry of punches, each one faster than the last. At first, two or three strikes would stagger Volk, forcing him back, but as the battle dragged on, it took five, then six punches to make him falter. "Come on, Ogre! Show me what you''re truly made of!" the Death Monarch taunted, his fists blurring as he struck, his attacks precise and unrelenting. Each hit was calculated, targeting weak points in Volk''s massive frame, aiming to bring him down. But Volk, undeterred, charged through the pain, his fists swinging like wrecking balls. "VOLK¡­ WON''T¡­ FALL!" he bellowed, his voice booming across the field. He swung wildly, his fists cutting through the air with a force that made the ground tremble. He landed a punch to the Death Monarch''s chest, the impact sending a shockwave that rattled the nearby trees, and for a brief moment, the undead sorcerer stumbled. "Is that all you''ve got, monster?" Volk spat, his face twisted in a snarl. "Oh, no, my friend," the Death Monarch replied, straightening up with a grin. "This is just the beginning." He raised his fists, his bony fingers curling as he launched himself at Volk, his strikes landing in a rapid series of blows. Each hit sent Volk back, but with each one, the Ogre''s strength seemed to grow, his muscles swelling as he absorbed the punishment. The Death Monarch laughed, exhilarated by the relentless power that Volk was showing. "You''re¡­ remarkable, brute. I didn''t think you''d last this long." He dodged a massive swing from Volk, countering with a punch to the side of the Ogre''s head that made Volk''s vision blur. But Volk roared, charging forward with renewed fury. "YOU CAN''T¡­ BREAK¡­ VOLK!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the Death Monarch''s chest with enough force to make the undead stagger. The Death Monarch chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous thrill. "Oh, I''m counting on it. The more you endure, the stronger you become. It''s fascinating, really. But power without discipline¡­" He lashed out, his fists connecting with Volk''s face, then his stomach, each punch landing with sickening precision. "¡­is nothing but a child''s tantrum!" Volk stumbled back, breathing heavily, but there was a fire in his eyes that refused to die. "VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ CRUSH YOU!" he roared, charging forward again, his fists blazing with raw power. This time, he was faster, stronger, his punches coming harder and faster. The Death Monarch found himself forced to take the Ogre seriously, each punch demanding a counter, each block a calculated effort¡­ "One hundred fiftyfold empowerment¡­" he murmured, a twisted grin on his face as he felt the Ogre''s power surge. "Sixtyfold¡­ Seventyfold¡­" Each clash between them was a thunderous explosion of force, the ground beneath them cracking with each step, each blow. The Death Monarch was matching Volk''s pace, yet he couldn''t ignore the growing pressure. He could sense Volk''s power evolving, his aura thickening, radiating raw fury that seeped into the very ground they fought on. "You''re getting stronger, Ogre!" he sneered, dodging another punch and countering with a brutal knee to Volk''s ribs. "But strength without strategy? How utterly useless!" He followed up with a punch to Volk''s chest, sending him sprawling back, but Volk was on his feet again in seconds, charging forward with an enraged bellow. Volk''s eyes were wild, his breaths labored, but he was grinning. "You talk¡­ too much!" he roared, delivering a punch that caught the Death Monarch off guard, sending him stumbling back. "Just¡­ SHUT¡­ UP!" The Death Monarch laughed, wiping a smear of black blood from his mouth. "Hah! That''s more like it!" He launched a brutal series of kicks and punches, each one harder than the last. "Hundred ninety empowerment," he muttered, feeling Volk''s power swell yet again. "Ninety-fifth. By the gods, you''re relentless." Volk lunged again, his fists flying in a savage barrage, each blow a roar of defiance. "VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ BREAK YOU!" he screamed, his fists crashing down like hammers. The Death Monarch countered, his own strikes meeting Volk''s with thunderous impact, the ground splintering beneath them as they clashed. Then, with a final, brutal punch, Volk felt a surge of confidence. He could feel it in his bones¡ªhe was matching the Death Monarch''s strength. Victory was within his grasp. A triumphant grin spread across his face as he readied himself to land the final blow. But suddenly, a dark, chilling force surrounded him, and before he could react, he was sent flying back with a single punch that felt like a sledgehammer. He crashed into the ground, KABAM! dust and debris erupting around him. As he looked up, he saw the Death Monarch standing there, his skeletal fist now wrapped in a sickly aura, swirling with the unmistakable dark energy of death. The sorcerer''s eyes gleamed with a twisted joy as he held up his fist, letting the deathly energy crackle and pulse around it. "Introducing¡­ magic." Chapter 187 - 187: TIDE, CHANGES The Death Monarch''s laughter echoed like a twisted symphony across the blood-soaked field as he raised his hand, dark magic swirling around his bony fingers. Volk, breathing hard, his muscles taut with rage and defiance, fixed his gaze on the undead sorcerer. The aura of death surrounding the Death Monarch''s fist pulsed like a living thing, and Volk could feel the oppressive weight of the magic bearing down on him, chilling him to the bone. "Ah, Ogre!" the Death Monarch sneered, his voice booming across the battlefield. "Look at you, clawing and scraping with brute force alone. Do you honestly think you can challenge me?" He waved his hand, sending a wave of dark energy crashing into Volk. The force hit like a storm, each tendril of magic searing his skin as it wrapped around him, threatening to drag him to his knees. Volk staggered but refused to yield. "VOLK¡­ WILL¡­ WIN!" he bellowed, his fists clenching as he forced himself forward, step by agonizing step, against the suffocating wave of magic. The Death Monarch chuckled, amused, as he watched Volk struggle. "Oh, how charming. Your spirit is admirable, but do you honestly think sheer strength alone is enough? "You may be physically formidable, but your lack of magical ability leaves you hopelessly vulnerable. "In magic, I am your superior. You are a mere worm fighting against a god." With a flick of his wrist, he launched another wave of black fire toward Volk, engulfing him in flames that seared his skin. Volk''s roar tore through the smoke, defiant, even as his flesh burned. He charged, bursting through the flames and aiming a punch at the Death Monarch''s head. The undead sorcerer sidestepped with ease, his lips curling in a sneer. "Is that all, brute? Surely, you can muster more than this. Or is your so-called strength already reaching its pitiful limit?" His voice was laced with mockery, each word a taunt meant to break Volk''s spirit. Volk''s growl deepened, his muscles rippling with a renewed surge of strength. But every attempt to attack was met with a precise, ruthless counter. The Death Monarch toyed with him, dodging and weaving, his laughter ringing out as he struck Volk with brutal blasts of magic that sent him reeling back, again and again. "Are you truly this simple-minded, Ogre?" the Death Monarch mocked, circling Volk with an arrogant gleam in his eyes. "Look at yourself. You may be reaching physical parity with me, yes. But that is nothing in the face of magic. "I can toy with you all day, watching your strength peak and then finally break. Just admit it¡ªthis is your limit." But Volk''s response was a roar, a guttural, primal scream that resonated with raw, unrelenting rage. He surged forward, throwing a punch that seemed to shake the air itself, and for a fleeting moment, the Death Monarch felt its force. He caught the fist, his arm trembling under the weight of Volk''s strength, but then he sneered, twisting Volk''s arm and slamming a surge of dark energy into his chest, sending him crashing back. "Is this not exhausting for you?" the Death Monarch mused, pacing as Volk struggled back to his feet. "With every beatdown, I expect you to falter, to finally break. But no, you keep climbing, clawing back from the brink. Don''t tell me¡­" He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Are you really¡­ surpassing even your previous limits?" Volk forced himself up, his breaths coming hard, his body battered, bleeding, yet unbroken. Each time he rose, his muscles seemed to pulse with greater power, a strength that defied reason, growing with each hit, each moment of punishment. He fixed his blazing eyes on the Death Monarch and spat blood to the side, a fierce grin breaking across his bloodied face. The Death Monarch''s grin faded, replaced by a look of growing concern. "Enough!" he barked, lashing out with a cascade of dark energy, bolts of black lightning crackling through the air toward Volk. They struck with merciless force, blasting him back, yet still, Volk rose, his body absorbing the damage, his power climbing higher, fiercer, his aura thickening like a storm. "What¡­?" The Death Monarch''s voice wavered, disbelief flickering in his eyes as he watched the Ogre stand tall once more, his chest heaving with steady breaths, his face marked with the unbreakable will that even death couldn''t dampen. "How¡­ how are you still growing stronger?" Volk let out a low, rumbling laugh, his voice thick with fury and triumph. "VOLK¡­ IS¡­ ENDLESS!" he roared, his body seeming to radiate with a strength beyond comprehension. With every step, his power surged, his fists crackling with an energy that defied logic, each movement imbued with the primal rage of a beast that could not be subdued. The Death Monarch took a step back, his smug grin vanishing completely as he realized the impossible truth¡ªhis magic, his unassailable advantage, was beginning to feel¡­ ineffective. Each spell, each wave of energy, every bone-crushing punch seemed to make Volk only stronger, each blow feeding his rage, his power. For the first time, a hint of doubt shadowed the Death Monarch''s face. He raised his fists, hesitating as he watched the Ogre''s relentless approach, his form larger, his steps heavier, each breath a declaration of his refusal to yield. "This¡­ this is impossible¡­" he whispered, his voice tinged with genuine awe and, perhaps, the faintest hint of fear. The Death Monarch''s eyes narrowed, a glint of cunning flickering through his gaze as he raised his arms, dark tendrils of necromantic energy coiling like snakes around his skeletal fingers. He chanted in a low, guttural voice, his words a twisted invocation to the very essence of death itself. "With the chains of the forsaken, I bind your spirit!" he intoned, his voice echoing across the battlefield, reverberating with a sinister resonance. A storm of shadowed chains erupted from the ground, each link forged from the screams of countless souls, and they hurtled toward Volk, aiming to ensnare him in an ironclad grip. The chains wrapped around Volk''s wrists, his ankles, his neck, tightening with a relentless force that would crush the spirit of any lesser being. But Volk only grinned, his eyes blazing with defiance as he flexed his arms and shoulders, each muscle rippling with newfound power. "GRRAAAAAH!" Volk roared, his voice a thunderous boom that shook the chains themselves. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. With a fierce tug, he snapped the bindings around his wrists as if they were little more than threads, the dark energy dissipating into wisps of shadow. He clenched his fists, glaring at the Death Monarch with unbridled fury. "IS THIS¡­ YOUR BEST?!" The Death Monarch snarled, his eyes widening with disbelief. Without hesitation, he raised his arms again, summoning another wave of magic. "Sleep, beast!" he commanded, his voice rising with desperate intensity. "By the eternal night, let your mind be shackled, your will drowned in slumber!" An eerie, inky mist filled the air, seeping into Volk''s lungs, his skin, his very mind, in an attempt to lull him into an endless, dreamless sleep. But Volk merely took a deep breath, his chest swelling as he inhaled the spell''s essence¡ªthen let out a thunderous laugh, expelling the dark mist in a burst of raw power. "VOLK DOES NOT SLEEP!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the battlefield. His laughter was a defiant proclamation, shaking the very air with its ferocity. The Death Monarch''s composure faltered, a flash of frustration shadowing his face. But he was not defeated yet. He raised his hands once more, desperation tightening his voice as he called upon one of his deadliest spells. "Shadow of the Undying, crush his soul! Rend his strength, weaken his spirit!" The ground trembled as a colossal shadowy figure rose, a monstrous, ghastly apparition, its form shifting and undulating, every limb pulsating with a malevolent energy that sought to drain the very life from Volk. It loomed over him, its ghostly hands reaching out to consume his power, its eyes glowing with an unholy light. Volk snarled as he felt the shadow''s touch on his skin, its cold fingers digging into him, trying to sap his strength. But instead of falling to his knees, Volk took a step forward, his muscles bulging as he fought against the draining effect, his veins pulsing with sheer determination. "YOU THINK¡­ THIS WILL STOP ME, VOLK?!" His voice rose to a primal bellow as he shrugged off the shadow''s grip, his strength undiminished. With a violent swing of his arm, he struck the apparition, shattering it into shards of dark mist that vanished into the air. He stood tall, his gaze fixed on the Death Monarch with a gaze that was pure, unyielding fury. "NOTHING¡­ CAN BREAK¡­ VOLK!" The Death Monarch''s face twisted with desperation as he conjured yet another spell, his voice shrill as he shouted. "Fall, beast! I command you! By the essence of oblivion, let your heart be weighed down, let your limbs turn to lead!" A crushing force slammed down on Volk, like an invisible mountain bearing down on him, aiming to pin him to the ground, to turn his very blood to sludge. But Volk only laughed, a terrible, bone-rattling sound, as he straightened under the spell''s weight, every fiber of his being surging with relentless energy. "IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE?" His voice was louder, more menacing with each word, each defiance sending shivers through the undead forces still watching in awe. "YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE ME¡­ WEAK?!" With a furious roar, Volk ripped free from the invisible bonds, his body radiating with a newfound intensity that shook the battlefield. His gaze locked onto the Death Monarch, a look of pure, unstoppable rage in his eyes, and he took a slow, deliberate step forward. The Death Monarch stumbled back, his mouth open in disbelief, his confidence crumbling as Volk brushed off each spell as if it were nothing more than dust in the wind. Panic flashed in his eyes as he conjured one last desperate spell, his voice trembling. "Oblivion''s Embrace!" he cried, summoning a whirlwind of necrotic energy that spiraled toward Volk, its dark tendrils seeking to consume him whole. But Volk simply raised his fist and swung, his raw, overwhelming strength scattering the necrotic energy like smoke. He stepped closer to the Death Monarch, who was now helpless, every ounce of arrogance drained from his face, replaced by horror and disbelief. "THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS!" Volk thundered, his voice carrying across the battlefield. The Death Monarch took a step back, devastated, his once-unshakable confidence now shattered, as he realized there was nothing¡ªnothing he could do to stop this unstoppable force before him. Chapter 188 - 188: UNDEAD BEATDOWN! The Death Monarch scowled, his fingers flicking out in a desperate motion as he called forth yet another spell. Dark energy coiled around him like a viper ready to strike, and he thrust his hands forward, unleashing a torrent of deathly tendrils that lashed toward Volk, their tips crackling with the promise of agony. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "With this curse, you will wither, you wretched beast!" he spat, his voice thick with frustration. But Volk didn''t even flinch. He let the dark tendrils graze his skin, watching as they slid off, unable to latch onto his hardened, empowered body. His eyes blazed with contempt. Raising his massive fist, he drove it straight down with a ground-shaking blow. KABOOM! The ground splintered, erupting in a violent shockwave as Volk''s fist slammed into the earth. The Death Monarch was blasted back, his form crumbling against the unrelenting force. He tumbled, landing in a heap, his skeletal form broken and splattered across the rocks. "BLASTED OGRE!" the Death Monarch rasped, scrambling to piece himself together, his voice dripping with venom. "HOW DARE YOU TREAT ME LIKE A MERE INSECT!" He sneered, attempting to drag himself up, his bones creaking as they reluctantly shifted back into place. Volk took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he threw back his head and roared, "DOESN''T MATTER WHO YOU ARE! YOU ARE NOTHING BEFORE VOLK!" His voice thundered across the battlefield, every word drenched in primal fury, a rallying cry that sent shivers down the spines of the onlookers. Then, to Volk''s astonishment, the Death Monarch''s shattered bones began to pull together, weaving themselves back in place with an unnatural, rapid precision. The fractured ribs knitted, the skull reformed, and within a heartbeat, the Death Monarch stood once more, whole and untouched. His laugh echoed, dripping with newfound arrogance. "FOOLISH OGRE!" the Death Monarch taunted, his voice brimming with pride. "Do you really think you can destroy me? I am death incarnate! No matter how many times you beat me down, I will rise again, whole and unbroken!" He stretched his arms wide, reveling in his reborn strength. "You may be strong now, but strength alone cannot overcome the eternal!" Volk''s response was immediate. He moved with brutal swiftness, his massive hand swatting the Death Monarch as though he were a bothersome fly. The Death Monarch was hurled into the sky, spinning wildly from the blow, and before he could catch his bearings, Volk had already leapt after him. WHAM! Volk''s fist connected with the Death Monarch''s face, shattering part of his skull and sending him plummeting back toward the ground like a meteor. The impact cracked the earth open in a sprawling crater, dust and debris swirling around the fallen figure. But before the dust could even settle, Volk''s shadow loomed over him, his foot crashing down with a force that shook the very mountains. SMASH! Each blow left the ground quaking, the rocks splitting apart in jagged lines as Volk battered the Death Monarch without mercy. And yet, each time the Death Monarch fell, his bones would weave themselves back together, regenerating in the blink of an eye, as though mocking Volk''s every attempt. "Pathetic beast," the Death Monarch sneered as his shattered form reassembled yet again, his voice a venomous hiss. "Do you not see? Your efforts are pointless. You''re nothing more than a mindless brute." "VOLK WILL SHOW YOU¡­ POWER!" Volk thundered, his fist already descending once more. He slammed the Death Monarch into the ground with such force that the ground fractured and shook, a plume of dust rising into the sky. And as the Death Monarch began to pull himself together again, Volk lunged forward, grabbing him mid-regeneration, and hurled him across the landscape, sending his skeletal form skidding over the jagged rocks. BAM! Volk was already upon him, his fist colliding with the Death Monarch''s face, the force of it smashing the skeletal jaw and shattering half of his ribcage. Yet, in the span of a heartbeat, those bones reformed, his injuries knitting themselves back with chilling ease. "This is all you have, Ogre?" The Death Monarch''s voice was laced with mockery as he reached out, summoning necromantic energy that sparked in his palm. "You are nothing before true power!" He unleashed a blast of dark energy toward Volk, the air splitting with the rancid smell of decaying magic. The necromantic magic collided with Volk''s chest, wrapping around him like a snake, binding his limbs, digging into his flesh. But Volk only grinned, ripping free of the shadowy bindings with sheer strength, brushing them off like cobwebs. "YOUR MAGIC¡­ IS NOTHING!" he bellowed, slamming both of his fists down, driving the Death Monarch into the ground yet again. In the brief moment before his form shattered, the Death Monarch could barely sneer, only to feel the world spin as Volk slammed him into the ground once more, this time creating an explosion of stone and earth that sent shockwaves across the battlefield. The Death Monarch''s pride was crumbling, each regenerated bone faltering slightly, yet still, he rose. "Haha!" The Death Monarch''s laughter was manic, unhinged. "Strike me as you will, beast! I am untouchable, an undying force! You may be stronger, but I cannot be killed!" Volk''s roar shook the heavens as he launched himself at the Death Monarch, slamming him with unrelenting force, driving him through stone, rock, and rubble. Each blow echoed like thunder, each collision sending a cascade of debris into the air. And each time the Death Monarch would rise, his bones piecing back together as if untouched. Midair, the Death Monarch raised a hand, his eyes burning with desperation as he conjured a twisted, shadowy spell. "Necromantic Crush!" He threw his hand forward, a wave of undead energy rippling outward. Volk stumbled back, feeling the force, but as the spell attempted to latch onto his flesh, he only shook it off, his eyes blazing with unyielding fury. "YOU WILL BREAK!" Volk roared, surging forward with a bellowing fury that shattered the magic around him. He swatted the Death Monarch back, the force sending him flying through the air, the landscape bending to the will of their destructive power. Yet, Volk was relentless, leaping into the sky with the speed of a thunderbolt, catching up and slamming his fists into the Death Monarch once more. The Death Monarch screamed, his voice a twisted cry as his body shattered again, his magic failing him as Volk''s blows broke him down. Yet, before Volk''s eyes, the Death Monarch reformed again, his bones pulling together even faster, the remnants of his laughter echoing through the carnage. "YOU CANNOT DEFEAT DEATH!" he crowed, conjuring a final surge of necromantic magic. But even as the energy flowed from his hands, Volk''s fist crashed into him, the magic dispersing like fog. Blow after blow, slam after slam, Volk''s unrelenting assault left the battlefield littered with craters, rocks, and shattered debris. And with each furious strike, the Death Monarch''s smugness wavered, his laughter faltering, his body struggling to hold form. Finally, as Volk loomed over him, casting a shadow like a dark omen, the Death Monarch''s voice was a cracked whisper, tinged with a hint of disbelief, "How¡­ is this possible?" His form was struggling, his once-seamless regeneration slowing, faltering. "YOU¡­ WILL¡­ BREAK!" Volk growled, his voice a thunderous promise, fists clenched as he raised them high. And as he prepared to strike once more, the Death Monarch, for the first time, had no response, no mockery, no sneer¡ªjust silent dread. Chapter 189 - 189: END OF THE UNDEAD As Volk''s final blow shattered the Death Monarch, the skeletal figure dissolved into an eerie, black dust, drifting away on an unnatural wind. For a brief moment, silence hung over the battlefield, broken only by the echoes of Volk''s labored breathing. Then, he felt it¡ªa faint, sinister presence tugging at his senses from beyond the hills. Instinct took over. Without wasting a second, Volk crouched low, and with an earth-shattering leap, he launched himself skyward, his body soaring like a meteor. Down below, the Orcs and Ogres were left in a stunned, reverent silence, watching as their Warchief disappeared into the sky. They exchanged glances, their faces lit with awe and disbelief, murmuring to one another as they tried to comprehend the sheer power they had just witnessed. ¡­ Meanwhile, far from the battlefield, the true Death Monarch staggered through a shadowed forest, his skeletal fingers clutching his side where a web of fractures split through his bones. He gritted his teeth, muttering to himself, "That clone should buy me enough time¡­ enough to recover and regain my power." He reached a secluded grove where the air was thick with deathly silence, the ground littered with the remains of fallen creatures. Dark, ominous clouds swirled above him, casting the landscape in a sickly hue. Closing his eyes, he began to murmur an incantation, his bony hands tracing symbols in the air as he summoned the undead aura from the corpses scattered around him. Black tendrils rose from the ground, winding their way toward him, drawn by his call. The aura pulsed like a heartbeat, growing denser and darker, wrapping around the Death Monarch in a protective shroud. He could feel his fractured bones knitting back together, his strength slowly returning. Shadows danced around him, thickening with each whispered chant, and the ground itself seemed to tremble in response, a low rumble vibrating through the air. The corpses of dead beasts twitched and spasmed, their lifeless eyes glowing briefly with an eerie green light as they gave up their residual energy. The swirling mass of undead aura grew more intense, expanding outward in waves as the Death Monarch fed on the life-force left in the bodies around him. A dark phenomenon filled the grove¡ªa swirling vortex of death and decay, casting the entire forest in a sickly green glow. The air grew heavy, and a deathly silence fell over the land as even the wind ceased to blow. Shadows thickened into an inky fog, cloaking everything in an unnatural darkness, and the Death Monarch felt the last traces of weakness leaving his bones, the fractured pieces of his body knitting together until he was whole once more. Just as he prepared to end the ritual, a shift in the air made him pause. He looked up, his undead eyes narrowing as he sensed something¡ªa presence, fast and terrifying, hurtling toward him. The Death Monarch''s gaze sharpened, his eyes scanning the sky. Then, he saw it: a streak of movement hurtling down from above, like a burning star descending with unstoppable force. His eyes widened in shock, his hollow gaze filled with disbelief. "How did he¡­? This can''t be!" he gasped, panic flashing across his face. He had underestimated the Ogre''s senses¡ªVolk had not only grown in strength, but in perception as well. Before he could react, Volk crashed down from the sky, slamming into the ground with such ferocity that the entire grove shook. KABOOM! Dust and debris erupted around them, a shockwave radiating outward, flattening everything within its path. The Death Monarch stumbled back, his mind racing as he tried to summon his undead aura in defense. With a final, desperate yell, the Death Monarch unleashed a massive surge of undead energy, the dark aura exploding outward in an all-encompassing wave. The ground trembled, the trees withered, and shadows twisted in every direction as the aura sought to repel Volk. But Volk didn''t even flinch. The dark magic washed over him, but it had no effect. He continued his approach, steady and unyielding, each step small but deliberate. His eyes glowed with a cold, menacing fury as he closed the distance, undeterred, completely ignoring the undead energy swirling around him. The Death Monarch took a staggering step back, his once-confident facade crumbling into terror. He tried to raise his hand, but his limbs felt as heavy as lead. "No¡­ it can''t be. You¡­ you''re stronger, but¡ª!" Volk raised his fist, his muscles rippling as he drew back, his voice booming in a tone that seemed to shake the very heavens. "GOODBYE, SYSTEM USER!" As Volk''s massive hands hung in the air, ready to deliver the final, crushing blow, a flicker of despair flashed through the Death Monarch''s hollow eyes. Time seemed to stretch, and in that brief moment, his mind was swept back to a memory from a distant age¡ªa time when he had once stood at the pinnacle of power, his ambitions burning brighter than any star. He remembered the day he had uncovered a hidden truth, a revelation that there was a realm beyond their own, a higher realm filled with unimaginable strength and mystery. The whispers of ancient texts and forbidden lore had hinted at it¡ªa place of endless dominion, where power had no limits. He had yearned for it, this unknown paradise, willing to do anything to reach it. But to achieve such transcendence, he had discovered a terrible price: the balance of the realms would have to be shattered. All the Monarchs, his once-allies and rivals alike, would need to be destroyed. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The power structure itself would have to be broken, and their world plunged into ruin. And so, he had betrayed them. He recalled the looks on their faces¡ªshock, disbelief, rage¡ªwhen he turned on them one by one, his cold, relentless hunger for ascension guiding his every action. The Death Monarch had destroyed everything in his path, mercilessly dismantling the very foundations of their alliances. He had embraced isolation, craving that one thing none of them could understand. The other Monarchs, united in a rare moment of solidarity, rose against him. They had fought with everything they had, hurling curses and spells, their powers combining to create an ancient seal. He remembered their determination, their righteous fury as they locked him away, binding him in chains of magic that dragged him into a dark, endless slumber. For countless centuries, he had lain in that cold abyss, abandoned, his spirit unbroken but weary, his ambitions simmering in the solitude. He had felt every passing year like a weight pressing down on him. Alone. Betrayed. Enraged. Yet, he had never given in. He had clung to his resolve, fueling himself on the thought that one day, he would awaken. That one day, he would break free and complete what he had started. He would climb to that higher realm, claim the power he was destined for, and reshape existence itself to his will. And now¡­ Now that he was free, with his grand plan ready to unfold once again, it was all about to be ended by this hulking brute. This Ogre, whose every roar, every brutal attack, was sealing his fate back to that endless, silent prison. Desperation filled him. He could feel the crushing weight of fate bearing down on him, the bitter irony of it twisting like a knife in his heart. "No¡­ not like this," he thought, his mind racing. "I have waited so long¡­ endured so much¡­ I cannot¡ªno, I will not go back!" But deep down, he knew. He could see it in the cold fury of Volk''s eyes, the unstoppable power behind those fists raised high above. It was over. "No!" he screamed in final defiance, his voice breaking with anguish and fury. "I will not be forgotten! I will not be buried! I¡ª" KABAM! Volk''s fists came down with the force of an avalanche, a thunderous crash that shook the earth to its core, splintering the ground beneath them and filling the air with a deafening roar. Dust and stone exploded outward, and the echo of that final blow rolled across the land, silencing even the whispers of the wind. Chapter 190 - 190: FINAL RAAAAAAAGE! Volk''s fists crashed down like the hammering of titanic war drums, each slam against the Death Monarch''s crumbling form echoing across the battlefield. KABOOM! The ground beneath him splintered and cracked, leaving jagged rifts from the sheer force of his blows. He was unrelenting, ruthless, each strike more brutal than the last, obliterating every trace of the undead Monarch''s once-terrifying presence. Dust and shards of bone burst up from each impact, but Volk paid it no mind; he would reduce his enemy to nothing more than a memory. "I, the Death Monarch will not fall!" the Death Monarch screamed in final defiance, his voice breaking with anguish and fury. "I will not be forgotten! I will not be buried! I¡ª" he said again, but like earlier, he was flattened again to the ground. "YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE VOLK DOWN?!" Volk bellowed, his voice booming like a thunderstorm. He raised his fist, slamming it down with primal ferocity. "I AM VOLK! I AM THE STRONGEST! NO ONE, NOT EVEN A SO-CALLED MONARCH OR SYSTEM USER, CAN STAND AGAINST ME! I AM VOOOOOLKKK!!" His rage was uncontainable, his muscles taut as cords, each fiber pulsating with the overwhelming power surging through him. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Another crushing blow pulverized what remained of the Death Monarch''s mangled body, scattering shards of bone and decayed armor in all directions. Volk''s eyes gleamed with a fierce, unbreakable intensity as he raised both fists, smashing down with a brutal force that cratered the earth itself. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE WHO UNDERESTIMATE VOLK!" he roared, each word reverberating through the landscape. His fists became a blur of destruction, tearing apart every remnant of the Death Monarch. Dust spiraled around him, whipped into a frenzy by his ceaseless onslaught, turning the air thick and choking. The ground beneath was a shattered ruin, littered with cracks and craters as Volk''s brutal assault continued unabated. "You call yourself a Monarch? You''re NOTHING IN THE FACE OF VOOOOLK!!!" Volk growled, his voice laced with derision. His blows increased in speed and intensity, each impact creating shockwaves that seemed to shake the very sky. KABOOM! KABAM! BOOM! His laughter was feral, filled with pure, unbridled confidence. "I AM STRONGER THAN YOU! STRONGER THAN ALL OF YOU! I AM VOLK, WARCHIEF OF THIS HORDE!" Finally, as his fists slowed, Volk straightened, breathing heavily, his shoulders rising and falling like the heaving of a great beast. Dust settled around him, and he watched, satisfied as the last fragments of the Death Monarch''s form crumbled away. But then, a strange warmth seeped into the air, radiating from the spot where the undead tyrant had met his end. Volk narrowed his eyes, his muscles tensing, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest. "Another trick?" he muttered, preparing himself, his fingers curling into fists once more. A fiery heat swirled before him, the remnants of dust twisting together, forming a shape¡ªa jagged, spectral skull that hovered, glowing ominously. The wind howled, carrying a bone-chilling voice as it reverberated through the desolate battlefield. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!" The skull''s hollow eyes blazed with a hatred that transcended life and death itself. Its mouth stretched wide in an unholy scream. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIIIS, I SWEAR IT! THIS IS NOT OVER, OOOOGRE! YOUR END WILL COME, YOUR PAIN WILL BE EVERLASTING!" The air pulsed with dark energy, the force of the scream rattling the ground as if the earth itself feared the Death Monarch''s final curse. The twisted remnants of his magic spiraled upward, swirling in a vortex, and the sky dimmed as the dark dust scattered into the wind, carried off like a black mist. The last remnants of his voice lingered, echoing like a distant wail. "YOU WILL PAY FOR ALL OF THIS, I WILL NEVER EVER FORGET YOU¡ª" And with that, the cursed specter faded, dissolving into nothingness. Volk stood still, the echoes of that deathly curse fading around him. He was silent, watching until the last trace of darkness was consumed by the horizon. His fists remained clenched, his senses sharp as he felt the final throes of the Death Monarch''s aura dissipate. Only then did he allow himself a deep, thunderous breath, his pulse slowing. Suddenly, he would slam his chest, WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The vibration seemed not to reach his heart and made him satisfied, so he slammed it better, WHAAAAAAM!! WHHAAAAAAM! WHAAAAAAM!! Volk would take a deep breath and began, "I AAAAAAAMMM¡­" he said and continued, "VOOOOOLKKK!!!" Suddenly, he sensed movement behind him. He turned, his sharp gaze narrowing, but his face softened as he saw the battered forms of his Horde emerging from the shadows of the trees. The orcs and ogres limped forward, each step filled with an exhaustion tempered by awe. Their bodies were bruised, armor shattered, weapons chipped, their faces smeared with dirt and blood. They wore their battle scars like badges of honor, the cuts and bruises a testament to the brutal clash they had survived. One by one, the horde came to a halt, looking upon their Warchief with an awe that bordered on reverence. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. At first, they said nothing, their breaths shallow, still processing the impossible sight they had just witnessed. They had seen Volk defy death itself, shatter a being of unfathomable power, and stand victorious. This was no mere warchief; he was a living force, a being that defied all reason. A long, heavy silence hung in the air. Then, one orc raised his chipped, bloodied axe. His voice, rough and raw from the fight, rang out with a guttural pride. "THE HORDE IS VICTORIOUS!" he roared, his voice swelling with pride. The others, stirred by his call, began to raise their own weapons¡ªbattered axes, cracked swords, even shattered shields lifted high. They took up the chant, their voices rising like a tidal wave of fury and admiration. "WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST!" another ogre shouted, his fist pounding against his chest in a show of loyalty. His words seemed to ignite a fire in the others, a call to arms, a rallying cry that echoed through every fiber of their battered forms. "WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST!" they chanted, their voices building into a cacophony, each cry more thunderous than the last. "WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST! OUR WARCHIEF HAS NO EQUAL!" Their voices thundered across the battlefield, a testament to their loyalty, their respect, their absolute belief in Volk''s unmatched strength. Each shout was like the strike of a war drum, resounding through the scarred earth, filling the air with a fierce, unyielding pride. "OUR WARCHIEF IS UNBREAKABLE!" an orc bellowed, slamming his fist against his chest. His comrades followed suit, striking their chests, their fists, their weapons, creating a deafening rhythm that reverberated across the shattered landscape. "OUR WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST!" The chant grew louder, swelling like a storm, their voices mingling in a fierce, raw harmony that spoke of battles won, of blood shed, of loyalty that knew no bounds. It was a song of defiance, of survival, a tribute to the unyielding strength of their leader. Volk, towering over them, raised his own fist, his voice joining theirs, a roar that seemed to shake the heavens themselves. Chapter 191 - 191: Saved again The chanting gradually gave way to raucous conversation as the ogres and orcs began swapping tales of the brutal showdown they had just witnessed. Their voices were filled with admiration, awe, and disbelief. "Did ya see that? That enemy was like no other¡ªmighty strong, full of dark magic! But the Warchief crushed him like he was nothing!" "Nothing?! He was more than that, mate. He was like a force, that one. All that undead magic swirling around, but our Warchief tore him apart piece by piece!" "Aye, he was so strong, I thought we''d be done for! I was bracing myself for the worst!" They laughed, though some still bore expressions of awe mixed with disbelief. The Death Monarch, as they would soon come to call him, had been a terrifying enemy, his dark aura nearly overwhelming them all. None had known his name, but they understood he was a being of unfathomable power, something out of legend. And yet, Volk had ripped through him like he was a common foe. An ogre, with a large scar across his chest, raised his voice above the chatter, his eyes glinting with pride. "OUR WARCHIEF TOOK DOWN THE MOST POWERFUL ENEMY I''VE EVER SEEN! EVEN STRONGER THAN THOSE MYTHS WE HEAR!" "Aye! It was like the end o'' the world right here, but our Warchief¡ªhe fought like thunder! Like fire in the night!" The words spread, murmurs and nods of agreement rippling through the crowd. Each of them, deep in their own memories, began recounting details of Volk''s astonishing strength, the way his fists had struck like mountain-breaking hammers. The more they shared, the more their voices rose, each account adding to the legend. "I never thought anyone could move so fast! The Death Thing¡ªhe was casting spells left and right, but Volk¡­ Volk just swatted ''em like flies!" "What about that black magic? He shrugged it off like it was nothing! Like he was born to crush that kinda power!" The tales grew, each recounting building upon the last until the battle seemed even more grand and brutal. The young orcs listened with wide eyes, looking up at Volk as though he were some kind of god. Their hearts swelled with awe, each of them determined to someday reach such strength themselves. Then, one bold orc stepped forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity, barely able to contain his excitement. "Warchief! Tell us! How did ya get so strong so fast? That power¡ªit''s not like anythin'' we''ve seen before! Is it... permanent?" The others leaned in, curious, hoping for an answer that would unlock secrets they could strive for. Volk turned to them, crossing his massive arms, his lips pulling into a grin that sent a shiver of awe through the crowd. "YA WANNA KNOW MY SECRET?" The Horde fell silent, hanging on his every word. Volk leaned in, his voice lowering but rumbling like distant thunder. "THE SECRET IS¡­ I''M JUST THAT STRONG!" The ogres and orcs blinked, wide-eyed, before the silence exploded into a chorus of cheers and laughter. "JUST THAT STRONG!" they repeated, voices thick with pride and admiration. "THE WARCHIEF DON''T NEED NO TRICKS!" "OUR WARCHIEF IS THE STRONGEST!" The ground shook as they stomped their feet, shouting Volk''s words back at him, each of them charged with a fierce sense of loyalty and belief. But then, a weak sound broke through the celebratory cheers. "Cough¡­ cough¡­" The horde turned, a ripple of surprise passing through them as they spotted a lone figure¡ªa human, bloodied and broken but somehow still alive. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he recognized the man. Wasn''t that the other system user? The host of the enemy''s magic? Song Woo-Ji''s form was a shadow of what it had been. His face was pale and smeared with blood, his once-proud posture now hunched, his body shaking with terror as he struggled to crawl away. With each desperate inch, he whimpered, a pitiful sound that only served to stir the Horde''s contempt. "H-how¡­ how did this happen¡­?" Song Woo-Ji muttered, his voice trembling. "This can''t be¡­ anyone, please¡­ someone¡­ s-save¡­ me¡­" His voice was barely a whisper, each word choked by fear. The ogres and orcs watched in stunned silence, contempt mixing with fascination as they looked down on the broken figure before them. This was a man who had once stood with his chin high, sure of his power. And now, he was nothing but a shell, a shattered remnant of the once-arrogant system user. Song Woo-Ji''s hand clawed at the ground, pulling his weak, trembling body forward. "This isn''t¡­ how it was supposed to be," he gasped, eyes wide and unfocused. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his face a mask of panic as he struggled to escape. Volk watched him, his eyes narrowing, and without a word, he began to move forward. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, each step resonating with the weight of inevitable doom. The orcs and ogres stepped aside, giving their Warchief a wide berth, their eyes fixed on him, eager to see what he would do. The closer Volk came, the more Song Woo-Ji''s fear grew. He clawed at the ground, trying to crawl faster, his movements frantic and clumsy. "N-no¡­ no, this can''t be! I''m¡­ I''m not meant to die here! I was¡­ chosen! There has to be another way¡­ someone, anyone¡­ help!" The Horde remained silent, watching him with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination. Song Woo-Ji''s voice had devolved into hysterical pleas, each word filled with raw, unfiltered terror. "P-please¡­ please, I''ll do anything! Don''t¡­ don''t let it end like this!" But Volk said nothing, his expression cold and unreadable. His form loomed larger as he approached, casting a shadow over the broken system user, his every movement radiating power and authority. When he finally stood over Song Woo-Ji, Volk''s massive shadow engulfed him entirely. Song Woo-Ji''s breathing quickened, his eyes wild with terror as he looked up at the hulking ogre. Desperation etched into every line of his face, he tried to scuttle backward, his hands slipping on the dirt in his frantic attempts to escape. Volk leaned down, his voice rumbling, cold and unforgiving. "WHAT''S YOUR NAME, SYSTEM USER?" Song Woo-Ji''s gaze was locked on Volk''s shadow looming above him, eyes wide, chest heaving. He coughed, blood flecking his lips as he struggled to muster the strength to speak. The question hung heavy between them, cold and merciless. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. As Volk''s massive arm began to raise, casting a deeper shadow over Song Woo-Ji, panic took hold, freezing him in place as he finally stammered, "S-Song Woo-Ji¡­" A strange shimmer flickered around him¡ªa light that seemed misplaced in this battlefield. The air quivered, dense with magic. Suddenly, a gust of energy swirled around Song Woo-Ji, wrapping him in a protective aura. Before Volk could bring his crushing arm down, the aura intensified, and with a soft swoosh, he vanished. Volk frowned, his hand hanging mid-air, the sudden emptiness where his prey had been causing his brows to furrow. He turned slowly, feeling the traces of magic, until his gaze fell on the distant figure of a woman¡ªa woman he recognized¡ªstanding a few yards away. She was panting heavily, her face pale, exhaustion etched deep into her features. "HMMM?" Chapter 192 - 192: System update completed Bong Me-Eon had done it without thinking. Watching Song Woo-Ji so close to death¡ªso utterly defeated¡ªhad broken something within her. She couldn''t let it happen again. Not to him. Not when she''d already lost so much. Her chest heaved as she struggled to remain upright, a sharp ache throbbing through her limbs. Song Woo-Ji lay beside her, stunned but alive, saved by her last-minute intervention. She knew this was a fleeting moment, and yet, even a single second longer was worth it. For Bong Me-Eon, the concept of loss was no stranger. It was a shadow, always lurking, always waiting to take those she held dear. Her life was a story written in loss, a cycle that had begun far too young. Her first memory of it was of her parents. She was barely a child, innocent and bright-eyed, clinging to her mother''s hand as they strolled down the busy streets of their town. It was a vibrant day, filled with the chatter of vendors and the laughter of passersby. But in an instant, it all shattered. She remembered her mother''s scream, the way her father''s body twisted as he shielded her from the oncoming car. The world blurred, and when it came back into focus, she was alone, her tiny hands stained with the blood of the people who had once been her world. After that, she was taken in by her grandmother, a gentle woman who tried her best to heal Bong Me-Eon''s shattered heart. For a while, things seemed better, as though maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªshe could learn to smile again. But fate was relentless. Her grandmother''s health began to fail, each cough a reminder of the inevitable. Bong Me-Eon would sit by her bedside, watching the light fade from her grandmother''s eyes, helpless to stop it. And then, one quiet evening, her grandmother took her last breath, her hand slipping from Bong Me-Eon''s grasp. Time went on, and the world continued spinning, indifferent to her pain. She started school, making friends who didn''t know the depth of her sorrow. And for a while, she managed to convince herself that maybe she could lead a normal life. But then, one day, her best friend didn''t show up to school. Rumors spread through the classroom like wildfire, whispers of an accident, of a life snuffed out too soon. Bong Me-Eon attended the funeral, numb, wondering why this endless cycle of loss seemed to follow her. It didn''t stop there. In her teenage years, her grandfather, who had been her last tie to the family, fell ill. She watched as his once-strong frame withered away, his spirit crushed beneath the weight of age and illness. He had been her rock, the one who encouraged her to keep going. But even he couldn''t escape the clutches of fate. She sat with him in his final moments, clutching his frail hand, feeling the last vestiges of warmth leave his body as he slipped away, leaving her once again alone. She grew up fast, learning to guard her heart, to avoid attachments. Yet, even in her guarded life, someone managed to slip past her defenses¡ªa senior at college. He was kind, with a smile that seemed to chase away the shadows that clung to her. For the first time in years, Bong Me-Eon allowed herself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could hold onto something. But then came the news¡ªa tragic accident. She stared blankly at the message, the words blurring as she felt the familiar sting of loss pierce her heart. When the apocalypse came, she found herself part of a team¡ªa group of survivors who, against all odds, became her family. They fought together, survived together, each of them carrying their own scars. She grew close to them, despite herself, finding comfort in their camaraderie. But the world was cruel, and the monsters that emerged from the spatial tears were merciless. One by one, her teammates fell, their screams haunting her nights as she fought to stay alive amidst the chaos. By the end, she was the last one standing, her heart heavier than ever. After that, she found a mentor, a master who taught her the ways of magic, who gave her the tools to survive in a world that seemed determined to break her. She respected her, admired her, even cared for her in a way she hadn''t allowed herself to care for anyone in years. But fate was relentless. During this fight, she sacrificed himself to give time and awaken inside Song Woo-Ji this monster in front of them, her final words urging her to keep going, to live for the both of them, especially Song Woo-Ji. So now, standing here, with her heart heavy with memories of everyone she had lost, Bong Me-Eon knew that saving Song Woo-Ji was a futile gesture. She knew that this moment was borrowed, that his life was likely forfeit. And yet, even a second more¡ªa single heartbeat more¡ªwas worth it. If she could spare him from the same fate that had claimed everyone else, even if just for a moment, she would do it. She looked down at Song Woo-Ji, her expression a mixture of sorrow and determination. She had saved him, even if only temporarily. Volk threw his head back and laughed, his deep, guttural voice echoing through the air like a rolling thunderstorm. "PUNY HUMAN!" he bellowed, each word dripping with disdain. "FUTILE EFFORTS! YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE THE WRATH OF THE HORDE''S WARCHIEF? PATHETIC!" His laughter grew louder as he took slow, menacing steps toward the weakened figures of Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji. With every step, the ground trembled beneath Volk''s immense weight, each impact sending small shockwaves through the ground. The dirt cracked and shuddered, each step more intense than the last, as if the very earth feared his approach. His gaze burned, fixed on the two figures who had dared to defy him. "WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO ACHIEVE?" he boomed, his voice thick with scorn. "ANOTHER PITIFUL ATTEMPT? ANOTHER PATHETIC TRICK?" Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji lay on the ground, struggling to summon what little energy they had left. She glanced at Song Woo-Ji, her eyes a mixture of apology and determination. She couldn''t give up, not yet. With a strained hand, she began to conjure, the remnants of her mana sparking faintly in the air around them. Her breath was labored, her body visibly shaking as she pushed herself past her limits, beads of sweat forming on her brow. But Volk only chuckled, his laugh carrying a dark amusement. "YES, TRY YOUR TRICKS AGAIN," he taunted, spreading his massive arms wide, as if welcoming the attempt. "ESCAPE! LET ME HUNT YOU. LET ME ENJOY THIS LITTLE GAME OF YOURS!" His footsteps didn''t falter, his pace slow and deliberate, savoring every inch he closed between them. Each time his boot hit the ground, Song Woo-Ji flinched, a terror consuming him that seemed to make the air thick with dread. And then, Bong Me-Eon managed it¡ªa flash, barely enough mana for one more teleportation. She clenched her teeth, feeling the magic drain the last of her strength as she forced herself and Song Woo-Ji to vanish in a burst of light. But as they reappeared a few yards away, Volk''s laughter echoed again, louder, more mocking. "BRAGA HAHAHAHAHA! AMUSING AMUSING¡­" Without a hint of hurry, he turned toward them, resuming his steady, relentless advance. "IS THIS ALL YOU''VE GOT?" he sneered, his voice laced with ridicule. "RUN! RUN AGAIN, WEAKLINGS! I WILL CATCH YOU EVERY TIME." His eyes gleamed with an unholy fire as he took another step forward. Bong Me-Eon''s heart sank; her entire body screamed in protest as she tried to summon even a sliver of mana. But it was useless; her reserves were completely depleted. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She exchanged a hollow glance with Song Woo-Ji, the resignation clear in their eyes. They had reached their limit. Volk loomed over them now, towering and unyielding. He lifted his arms, each muscle rippling with power as he prepared to bring down his fist. "NO MORE GAMES. ACCEPT YOUR FATE, HUMAN SCUM!" he snarled. His eyes glowed with feral glee, his breath hot and heavy as he prepared to strike the final blow. As his hand began its descent, a strange resistance halted him mid-motion. His eyes narrowed as he tried to push through, but his arm froze, hovering inches from Bong Me-Eon. "HUH?" Volk grunted, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. He stared at his own hand, flexing his fingers as if trying to understand why his body had betrayed him. Then, a chime resonated in his mind. Ding! | System Update Completed. | Chapter 193 - 193: Escape! Volk''s powerful arm hung in the air, frozen mid-swing, his fingers so close to Bong Me-Eon''s face he could practically feel the heat radiating from her skin. Yet he couldn''t move, couldn''t bring his fist down, couldn''t finish them. He gritted his teeth, straining with every ounce of strength to force his arm to obey him. But it was no use; his entire body was locked in place, as if bound by chains unseen. He growled, his frustration boiling over. "SYSTEM?" he roared internally, the rage simmering in his mind. His heart thudded as he tried to shake his limbs free, but every muscle seemed encased in iron. That system had been silent through all this¡ªthrough every smash, every kill, every ounce of power he had drawn to crush the pathetic enemies at his feet. Now, just now when he was about to finish it? Now, the system intervened? "WHAT¡­ WHAT IS THIS?!" Volk''s deep voice rumbled, barely a whisper through clenched teeth. Around him, his Horde of Orcs and Ogres had also become locked in place, their confusion spreading like wildfire. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They began to murmur, eyes darting in all directions as they fought the same paralyzing force that bound their Warchief. "Warchief¡­ I can''t¡­ I can''t move!" bellowed an Ogre, his voice cracking with panic. "What''s happenin'' to us?" an Orc nearby muttered, twisting his body, eyes wide as he looked down at his trembling arms. "Did we get cursed? Warchief? Is this¡­ some kinda magic?" An older Orc''s voice rang out, thick with terror. "Never¡­ felt anything like this. Even those cursed sorcerers didn''t have this power! This¡­ this is unnatural!" "It''s like chains! I can''t even scratch my nose!" shouted another Ogre, his eyes wild with helplessness. "Someone¡­ break us free!" Volk could hear the fear rippling through his Horde, feel the dread rising around him. The cries, curses, and mutters tangled together, building into a crescendo of confusion. "Warchief, this isn''t right!" a young Orc whimpered. "I thought you were gonna crush them!" An Orc shaman struggled, straining against the invisible bonds. "By the gods! There''s nothing I can do against this force!" he howled, sweat dripping down his face. "It''s like some¡­ otherworldly hand gripping us!" "I''m not made for this! Let me fight, let me break something!" a larger Ogre roared, trying in vain to move his bulky arms. "Warchief! What should we do?" Each Orc and Ogre seemed to turn to Volk, desperate for their Warchief to lead them, to break them free from this strange paralysis. But he could do nothing¡ªonly stand there, watching the fear ripple across his warriors, his voice swallowed in a choking silence. Then, a notification materialized before Volk, the familiar ding echoing hollowly in his ears: Ding! | The host has made a huge error. | The words hung before him, mocking him with their cold detachment. Using a glitch in a system, causing a big problem to the main system. His fury simmered beneath the surface as he read the words again and again. A glitch? His strength, his rise to absolute dominance, dismissed as some error? Around him, the murmurs and mutters of his Horde grew louder, the panic setting in as the realization began to dawn. "Warchief''s frozen too!" cried a voice from the crowd. "What does this mean? Are we¡­ Are we all cursed?" "Does this mean he''s not in control of it? Was his power a¡­ mistake?" The terrified words cut deep, raking at Volk''s pride like claws. He struggled, pushing against the frozen lock with every fiber of his being, feeling the taunt of the system weighing on him. The notification shifted, another message appearing before his eyes, taunting him with cold precision: Please wait¡­ System troubleshooting¡­ ¡­ On the other hand, opposite of them, Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji stared in shock, their breaths caught in their throats as they watched the towering figures of the Orcs and Ogres, as well as their monstrous leader, Volk, frozen as if ensnared by some invisible force. Volk''s hand was suspended in the air, his expression a twisted mask of rage and confusion, locked in place only inches from them. "What¡­ what is going on?" Bong Me-Eon whispered, eyes wide as she scanned the battlefield, her heart pounding as an eerie silence replaced the chaos of moments before. Song Woo-Ji''s hands trembled, and he swallowed, unable to look away. "I don''t know," he whispered back. "But whatever it is, it''s powerful enough to paralyze even them. I thought¡­ I thought nothing could stop them." Suddenly, a faint crackle of bones echoed beside them, and both of them jerked, spinning to see a familiar figure¡ªa skeleton warrior, thin and ragged, its skull tilting to the side as it looked up at them. The hollow eye sockets seemed to blink with concern, and a skeletal hand rose in a sort of cautious salute. "Master?" it rasped, its hollow voice echoing strangely in the stillness. "Lady Bong Me-Eon? What¡­ what in the name of the gods is going on?" Song Woo-Ji''s eyes widened, and he looked down at the skeleton warrior, a creation he had almost forgotten in the madness of recent events. "What¡­ How did you get here?" The skeleton pointed toward the direction of the battle. "I was drawn to the disturbance. And I¡ª" Its eye sockets flicked back to the hulking figure of Volk. The skeleton recoiled, bones clattering as it took a nervous step back. "Gods above¡­ Song Woo-Ji, that creature! I remember him¡ªhe''s the one that slaughtered you in the Draconic Graveyard Domain!" Song Woo-Ji grimaced, giving a stiff nod. "I know¡­ believe me, I remember." The skeleton''s jaw dropped as it continued to look at Volk. "But¡­ he''s not moving? None of them are. Why¡­ why isn''t it moving?" Song Woo-Ji shook his head, confusion in his voice. "I¡­ I don''t know. They were about to kill us, and then suddenly¡­ this happened." The skeleton scratched its skull, baffled. "Strange. Very strange." Its hollow gaze flickered with an odd excitement, and it turned back to Song Woo-Ji, bone fingers flexing. "Should I kill him, master? Take him out while he''s paralyzed?" Song Woo-Ji let out a weary laugh, his voice tinged with frustration. "No. You wouldn''t even be able to scratch him. And the moment whatever this is wears off, he''ll squash you into dust. It''s better if we use this chance to leave. Recover. And¡­ tell others about what we''ve seen here." The skeleton nodded, a serious gleam in its eye sockets. "Yes, master. You''re right." It looked to Bong Me-Eon, then back to Song Woo-Ji. "Come, I will help you both." With that, the skeleton warrior reached out, its bony fingers wrapping around Bong Me-Eon and Song Woo-Ji''s arms with surprising care, helping them rise to their feet. It pulled them gently, guiding them over the rubble-strewn battlefield as they cast wary glances back at the frozen horde, the silence thickening around them like a tangible weight. Volk''s gaze seemed to follow them, still locked in fury, his face frozen in place. Each slow step away felt like an eternity, the faint clicks of the skeleton''s bony feet echoing through the unnerving stillness. Chapter 194 - 194: Back at... As Song Woo-Ji and Bong Me-Eon were cautiously pulled away by the little skeleton, Volk felt an odd, creeping sensation within him¡ªa pull, faint at first, then growing, filling his entire body. It was foreign, disorienting. He shook his head, trying to dispel it, but the pull grew stronger, spreading from his chest to his limbs, his fists loosening from their rock-like grip. His breaths quickened, the cold weight of dread settling in his gut. The Horde behind him began to shift uncomfortably. Several Orcs looked down at their hands, alarm spreading as they realized they were growing smaller, their muscles shrinking. The ones who had been transformed into towering, battle-hardened Ogres were now feeling that power drain from their bodies, like sand slipping through their fingers. One Orc warrior, his voice shaky with fear, cried out, "What¡­ what''s happening to us?" His voice wavered, frantic as he looked around, seeing the others go through the same horrifying change. "I¡­ I''m shrinking! What sorcery is this?" Another, previously a massive Ogre with tusks the size of daggers, raised his hands in terror as they rapidly shriveled, returning to the rough but slender build of a regular Orc. "My power¡­ It''s gone! My strength is¡­ fading!" All around, the Horde erupted into a storm of panicked voices, their shouts echoing across the battlefield as they scrambled to comprehend what was happening to them. Some clawed at their skin as if they could hold onto their former selves, while others staggered, trying to keep balance as their hulking bodies shrank back into the lean, wiry frames of their original Orc forms. "Is this a curse?" one of them shouted, voice thick with fear. "Are we being punished? Did we anger the gods?" Another roared in frustration, pounding his fist into the ground only to find the force behind his punch diminished, the impact pitiful compared to what it had been moments before. "I was strong¡ªstronger than ever before! What dark magic has stolen it from me?" Closer to Volk, a particularly burly Orc who had enjoyed his transformation into an Ogre looked up, his voice was a desperate plea. "Warchief! What¡­ what''s going on? Why are we losing our power?" The other Orcs and those who had previously stood as proud Ogres turned to Volk, their voices a chorus of questions, confusion, and rising desperation. They looked to him for answers, clinging to the hope that their Warchief, their indomitable leader, would explain it all and somehow fix whatever cursed thing was happening to them. But Volk remained silent. His jaw was clenched, muscles tightening as he forced himself to ignore the chaos around him. He could feel it too¡ªhis own transformation beginning. His biceps, which had swelled with incredible strength, were deflating, the dense layers of power he had wielded with such ease slipping away, shrinking him back to his old form. The towering, monstrous stature that had once made him the terror of all who faced him was draining out of him, bit by bit, like a nightmare retreating with the dawn. Deep down, Volk knew what this was. The system¡ªthe very thing that had granted him these powers, had given him the strength to become the Horde''s unshakable leader¡ªwas somehow behind this. It was the same presence that had frozen him moments ago, the same force that had bound him and the Horde in place. He could feel it, lurking in the corners of his mind like an overseer pulling the strings. And now, it was retracting its gift, pulling back the strength it had given him and his Horde. An Orc stumbled forward, gripping Volk''s arm in a desperate plea, his eyes wide with fear. "Warchief, say something! Do you know what''s happening to us?" But Volk held his silence, ignoring the question. He tightened his fists, teeth gritted, as he tried to resist the steady transformation. His vision blurred as his towering form shrank further, until he was no longer the monstrous Ogre but a strong, albeit normal, Orc once more. The Horde''s panic was already a storm, but when they felt an unseen force dragging them down, their panic transformed into sheer terror. Each Orc felt as though invisible chains wrapped around their ankles, jerking them toward the ground. The sensation wasn''t painful, but it was unnervingly powerful, as if some invisible hand had reached from the earth to claim them. They tried to fight it, planting their feet, clawing at the dirt, but there was no resisting the pull. It was inevitable, unyielding, like gravity itself had doubled. "Wh-What''s happening now?" one Orc cried out, his voice trembling. He clawed at the ground, fingers tearing through the soil, trying to anchor himself, but the pull continued, relentless. Another Orc let out a scream, his voice breaking as he yelled, "Are we being dragged to the underworld?! Is this how we''re going to end?!" Closer to Volk, a former Ogre shrieked in pure dread, digging his nails into the ground, his voice choked with fear. "Warchief! Save us! Do something!" He scrabbled at the ground, muscles straining as he fought against the invisible grip pulling him down. Orcs and former Ogres alike continued to shout in horror, their voices rising into an almost discordant symphony of panic. They clawed at each other, scrambling, trying to hold onto anything solid to resist the force. Some grabbed onto rocks or trees, only to be yanked backward, their nails breaking as they desperately tried to find something to hold onto. One after another, they lost their grip, sliding across the ground like leaves caught in a violent wind. "NO! I WON''T BE TAKEN! I WON''T GO!" one of them roared, his fists pounding the ground in sheer denial, trying to fight back against whatever fate awaited him. Another Orc thrashed, his voice filled with raw panic. "Is this our punishment for challenging the gods? For facing¡­ that¡­ creature?" His voice was a mix of sobs and anger, each word dripping with despair. They all turned toward Volk, their eyes pleading for answers, hoping their Warchief would somehow break free of whatever was binding them. But Volk, in the midst of the uproar, stood silently. He was calm¡ªalmost unnaturally so. He felt the pull as well, but he did not resist it. His muscles were relaxed, his face resolute as he allowed the force to claim him. He watched as his warriors struggled, thrashing and crying out, but his stance remained solid, his expression unreadable. One by one, as the pull became stronger, his warriors began to disappear into the earth, dissolving into shadows, each one vanishing with cries of disbelief and despair. "Warchief! Don''t leave us! Warchief!" And then, in one great sweep, darkness overtook Volk''s vision. The dragging sensation intensified, pulling him downward, swallowing him whole. He could feel himself falling, sinking deeper, into a strange, weightless void. He couldn''t see or hear anything; it was as if he had been pulled out of reality itself. And suddenly, he felt solid ground beneath his feet. The darkness faded, and he looked around. The familiar stone walls, the cold, echoing chambers, the endless rows of forgotten bones and relics¡ªhe was back. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He was standing in the catacomb. The place he had been before all this, before the world of the tablet had swallowed him whole. One by one, his warriors reappeared beside him, each Orc and Ogre stumbling onto the stone floor, bewildered. They looked around in shock, eyes wide, breathing heavy as they tried to make sense of it. "Back¡­ here?" one Orc whispered, looking around, barely believing it. Chapter 195 - 195: Glitch Abuse As soon as Volk''s feet touched the cold stone of the catacomb, a bright screen flickered into his vision. The words materialized in large, unforgiving letters, shimmering with an almost accusatory intensity: Ding! | The Host Has Committed a System Violation: Glitch Abuse Detected | Volk''s eyes narrowed as he read, his face tense. He could almost feel the system''s disapproving glare through the glowing text. More lines began to appear, each word firm and final: | While the System was Updating, the Host accessed powers without limitation, exceeding intended limits and exploiting an update vulnerability. | This has been deemed a serious infraction. | The words lingered ominously, and for a moment, Volk felt a pang of irritation, his hands clenching. But the message continued, cutting off any frustration he might feel: | Warning: | This is not how the system is designed to function. | Abusing glitches or unintended power flows can lead to severe consequences, destabilizing both user abilities and the System''s balance. | Such actions threaten the integrity of your status as Host and the stability of your powers. | Another line flashed, bold and undeniable: | Future misuse of this nature will result in penalties, or worse, potential removal of Host privileges. | The System is not a limitless well to be drained without consequence. | Respect the constraints, or face disciplinary action. | The system''s warning felt almost personal, the cold, mechanical tone somehow laced with reprimand. The final line appeared with a grim finality: | Abusing update periods or exceeding boundaries is detrimental. | This warning is final. | Do not repeat this. | Volk''s jaw tightened as the screen faded out. He could feel the lingering weight of the warning pressing down on him, like an unshakable shadow. Volk''s eyes narrowed as another message glowed before him, every word etched with an air of finality and consequence. | In order for the System to function optimally and sustainably, the Host must adhere to the following condition: | The message paused, as if to ensure he was paying attention. | The Host shall not exceed three minutes of usage in Radioactive Form. | Volk''s mouth opened wide, his jaw dropping as he tried to process the restriction. Three minutes? S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He could barely hold back his strength for that long! But the system continued, unwavering. | Failure to comply will result in a severe consequence: | The Host will lose all control, entering a mindless state with no return. | This is the only solution. | The words hit Volk like a hammer. He, the Warchief, would be reduced to a mindless brute if he pushed beyond this limit. It was unthinkable. Just as he was starting to grasp this new limitation, the screen shimmered with more text, piling on the news that he dreaded most. | Due to the Host''s abuse of the glitch during the recent update, a recalibration is required. | Effective immediately, the Horde will be dispersed. | The Host''s allies¡ªOrcs and Ogres alike¡ªwill be randomly scattered across Orzaroth. | Proximity to the Host''s core power source, the nuclear vessel¡ªSolluha''r is not guaranteed. | A sinking feeling gripped Volk''s chest. His Horde¡ªthe warriors who had battled beside him, who had laid siege to the Death Monarch¡ªwould be flung to distant, unknown lands. They could be anywhere, cut off from his power, his protection. He would be alone once more, without the army he had painstakingly built. The final words blinked before him with a grim, mechanical determination: | This measure is to ensure system stability and prevent future misuse. | The screen faded, and Volk was left in the silence of the catacombs, his thoughts swirling. The weight of the system''s warning¡ªand the knowledge of his scattered Horde¡ªhung over him like a shadow, dark and unyielding. Volk clenched his fists, his voice rumbling in the stillness of the catacomb. "What do you mean, I can''t use my power? What did you expect me to do? Sit back and let that worm slip through my fingers? The System User was there, taunting me, mocking me! You can''t expect me to just wait around and be beaten!" His tone dripped with frustration, his chest heaving as he struggled to rein in the rage simmering within. After a pause, the system''s cold, mechanical voice echoed in response, | The System''s purpose is to support the Host''s survival and growth. | One decisive victory over a rival System User would have sufficed. | However, the Host pursued the opponent relentlessly, even beyond initial mission parameters. | Volk glared at the message, his brow furrowing. "So what? Am I just supposed to stop fighting because you say so? You don''t understand. Humans don''t quit. Humans don''t stop until their enemies are ground to dust beneath their feet!" He growled, feeling every inch of his orcish nature boiling over with indignation. The system''s voice returned, calm and unyielding. | Indeed, humans have an unbreakable spirit, a relentless drive to overcome the impossible especially if it regards their survival. | It is a trait that enabled them to evolve and survive, even in the darkest times. | Their persistence pulled them from caves, allowed them to conquer lands, and built civilizations. | The words hung in the air, ringing with a strange wisdom. Volk scoffed, shaking his head, but there was a pause in his retort as if some small part of him grasped the truth of what the system was saying. | But know this, Host, | the system continued, | pride in superiority cannot be your sole guide. There are limits, necessary boundaries that exist to protect not just you but also the structure of the system itself. | Had the Host not chased after pride, not strained the power past its limits, the system would remain intact, and the Horde would remain together. | Such an unyielding chase beyond purpose risks more than battle¡ª it risks unraveling the foundation that supports you. | The implication stung, almost like a slap across Volk''s face. Pride. The system was blaming his pride. His human pride. He spat on the ground, refusing to look at the shimmering message before him, but he couldn''t quite brush off the truth in it. The screen blinked again, as if sensing Volk''s struggle to accept the message. | Let this be a lesson: | Pride and power, unchecked, do not lead to strength but to instability. You are already the best System User¡ªan undisputed force. | Your survival and the Horde''s growth must take precedence. If survival means walking away from a fight, then the Host must consider that course. | The advice struck a nerve. "Walk away?" he muttered, his voice rough with defiance. "You think I could just walk away?" | Not every battle requires a relentless pursuit. Know when to fight. Know when to conserve. Not for pride, but for progress. | The screen''s glow faded slowly, leaving Volk in the dim, echoing chamber of the catacomb, his thoughts twisting and turning. This¡­ ''lesson'' wasn''t just about power. It was about control, about survival. The system didn''t see pride as strength; it saw it as a risk, a threat to his very existence. However, Volk would be annoyed. Yet he can somehow understand the system. It tells him that even though he grasped the system, he must not view it as an enemy. Volk feels guilty; although he wants to use the system in any way he can, he doesn''t want to be its dog. He would follow each of its advice, but instead, he became rebellious. That''s why, even though he feels something is wrong when he realizes he is not returning to being a normal Orc despite surpassing the time limit, he chooses to abuse it instead. Chapter 196 - 196: I am, an Orc! In the damp, eerie silence of the catacombs, the Orcs glanced around, their breaths clouding in the frigid, musty air. The flickering torches cast eerie shadows along the stone walls, their wavering light illuminating twisted carvings and strange runes etched into the ancient stones. Every so often, the low rumble of far-off water echoed through the halls, lending an unsettling heartbeat to the ancient tomb around them. A young Orc stepped forward, scratching at the back of his neck, eyes darting uneasily to Volk. "Uh, Warchief," he started, his voice hesitant, "is this¡­ is this place doin'' this to us? It''s gotta be, right? It''s this catacomb that brought us back?" His voice carried a mixture of awe and frustration, tinged with the faintest quiver of fear. Volk''s sharp gaze shifted, his eyes narrowing as they fell upon the Orc. Slowly, he nodded, his expression stone-cold, his silence far more oppressive than any answer he could''ve given. The other Orcs exchanged worried glances, their murmurs filling the space like the rustle of dead leaves, small whispers piling up like snow before a storm. "But¡­ but why, Warchief?" another Orc spoke up, his voice barely more than a murmur. "We''d started to carve out our place in that ranker world. We were building, we were gaining strength. We could live there. In peace." Volk''s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening like a storm cloud rolling over an unbroken sky. The silence grew thick as he stepped forward, the ominous weight of his approach causing the orcs around him to fall back slightly. Without a word, he reached out, his massive hand clamping down on the head of the Orc who''d spoken. The Orc''s eyes went wide, but before he could react, Volk wrenched him downward, smashing his head into the stone floor with a bone-cracking bang! BAM! Volk''s fist descended upon him, smashing again and again, each strike resounding through the catacombs like thunder. BAM! Another blow, cracking against the Orc''s cheekbone, driving him deeper into the cold, unyielding ground. BAM! BAM! Volk''s fists pounded mercilessly, like war drums, each strike sending reverberations through the walls and through the hearts of every Orc in the chamber. "W-Warchief!" one Orc stammered, eyes wide in terror, but he could only watch as Volk''s knuckles split and bruised with each strike, yet his relentless fury didn''t pause. Blood splattered across the stones, and the Orc beneath Volk could barely twitch in response. BAM! Volk''s knuckles crashed against the battered Orc''s head, the sickening crunch of bone and flesh filling the air. Volk''s face twisted with a primal fury, his eyes gleaming in the torchlight with a fire that could devour the world. And with one final strike, he pulled back his fist, breathing heavily as he stood over the Orc''s limp body. He straightened, wiping his blood-splattered hand across his chest. His breathing was harsh, ragged, yet his stance remained as steady as stone. The other Orcs stood there, paralyzed, some wide-eyed in horror, others confused. The one Volk had beaten was barely conscious, groaning as the others caught him, dragging him back into the crowd. The silence was thick, so thick it felt like a presence of its own, like a dark spirit lingering in the catacomb. Volk''s gaze swept over them, fierce and unyielding, and the other Orcs looked away, some gripping their weapons in fear. "Did you all forget," he growled, voice low and cold, "what you all are?" The question hung in the air, sharp and stinging. Some Orcs looked down, others shuffled uncomfortably, but no one answered. They didn''t know what he meant, or maybe they were too afraid to answer, caught between confusion and Volk''s growing fury. Volk''s voice exploded, shaking the walls with his thunderous roar. "HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHAT YOU ARE?" They flinched, every single one of them, feeling his rage ripple through them like an unstoppable wave. The disbelief and contempt in his voice struck them to the core. "You want peace?" Volk sneered, his eyes narrowing as he looked at them one by one, each Orc withering under his gaze. "Do you think that''s what we were born for? To sit in a world and live quietly, like dogs tied to a leash?" Their hearts thundered in their chests, something primal stirring within them as he spoke. The raw power of his words wrapped around them like chains, binding them to his every syllable. "I was born into this blood," Volk snarled, his fists clenching tightly. "Born for war, for battle, for conquest. I am an Orc." His words struck with the weight of a hammer, each one driving deep into their souls, awakening something that had been sleeping, something fierce and unyielding. His gaze grew distant, yet fiercer, as if staring through the stone walls, across worlds. "The Warlocks, the Dark Elves¡­ those bastards think they can live well after humiliating us and sending us by hiding in this realm below, by trapping us here, cutting us off from our true strength? Do you really think I''ll settle for scraps, for ''peace''?" He spat the word as if it were poison. "Someday, they will know what it is to fear us. Someday, they''ll pay for every ounce of blood we''ve spilled, for every battle we''ve lost." A shiver ran through the gathered Orcs, his words burning into their minds. "We are warriors, born in blood and raised in the fires of war!" Volk roared, his voice filling the chamber, every word resounding with a primal power that seeped into their bones. "Our purpose isn''t peace. Our purpose is power, glory, strength! We are the storm that shatters empires, the fire that consumes nations!" The Orcs looked at one another, their hearts pounding, something raw and untamed stirring within them. Volk''s words weren''t just words¡ªthey were a call, an awakening. They were reminding them of who they were, what they were. It was more than Volk''s strength; it was his unbreakable spirit, his fierce, undying drive to conquer. His eyes bore into them, fierce and relentless. "You all want a safe haven?" His voice was dripping with disgust, and the Orcs shifted, suddenly ashamed. "If you''ve forgotten who you are, if you think we''re here to hide from war¡ªthen go! Run and find your peace somewhere else! But I am an Orc!" He clenched his fists, his face contorting with an intensity that sent a shiver down their spines. "I am Volk, and I will never cower, never hide. I was born for this!" His words dripped with ferocity, every syllable biting into them like teeth. The Orcs could feel their hearts racing, their blood heating, each word fanning a fire within them they''d forgotten was there. Volk''s vision was their vision, his fury their fury. They hadn''t been meant to live quietly, to settle for anything less than battle. They''d lost their way. But Volk, he was here to remind them. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Someday, we''ll tear down the walls of the worlds above," Volk declared, his voice low and dark, heavy with promise. "Someday, the Warlocks, the Dark Elves¡ªthey''ll tremble before us. And until that day, I will fight, I will conquer, and I will remember what it means to be an Orc." Silence followed, thick and heavy, every Orc feeling the weight of his words settling deep within them. And then, Volk''s gaze met theirs, fierce, unyielding. "ARE YOU ALL AN OOOOOORRC?" he bellowed, his voice crashing over them like a wave, thundering through the very core of their beings. The silence held for a heartbeat, two, and then¡ª "Yes!" one shouted, his voice fierce and wild. "ORCS!" another cried, his eyes wide with a newfound fury, his fists clenched tightly. A chorus erupted, voices blending into a single, thunderous roar. "WE ARE ORCS! WE ARE ORCS!" The walls seemed to shake with the power of their chant, their voices blending into a force that felt like it could shatter mountains. They had remembered. They had awakened. Chapter 197 - 197: Lower realms danger The moment Volk saw the system notification, it felt like a spark igniting an inferno in his heart. Ding! | The host has one day to rest and prepare to take off to the Orzaroth realm. | Volk nodded, eyes narrowing as he turned his attention back to the gathering of Orcs before him. The fire in his gaze was fierce, hungry, like a beast barely held in check. He straightened, casting a shadow that seemed to tower over each of them, embodying the primal essence of their kin¡ªa force not meant to cower, but to conquer. "ONE DAY!" he roared, his voice echoing through the vast catacomb halls, rumbling and resounding as if the very walls were absorbing his strength. "YOU HEAR ME, ORCS? WE GOT ONE DAY!" The Orcs stared, breaths held, hearts pounding. Even the one he''d beaten was back on his feet, fists clenched, standing amidst the others with a look of fierce determination. They hung on his every word, each question he threw at them like an iron weight. "Tell me! Will we be satisfied in just one ranking world?" Volk''s voice, already loud, seemed to vibrate with an even greater intensity, each word a challenge, a dare. The gathered Orcs bellowed back, voices rising like a tidal wave. "NO!" they shouted, their own shouts merging into a primal chorus that made the walls shake. "WE WANT MORE!" The Orc Volk had struck down was in the front now, shouting louder than the others, his voice ragged but defiant. "WE WANT ALL REALMS! WE WANT TO TRAMPLE THEM ALL!" The words seemed to fuel Volk further, a fire stoking an inferno. He grinned, fierce and dark, the flickering torch light casting shadows across his face that made him look more beast than Orc. "WELL THEN!" he barked, his voice powerful and relentless, slicing through the air. "DON''T THINK IT''LL BE EASY!" He paused, the silence stretching as the Orcs grew still, the weight of his words sinking in. "You think it''s as simple as marching in and taking what''s ours?" he continued, pacing slowly, his boots echoing against the stone floor with each measured step. "Out there, there may be lower realms more dangerous than any you''ve ever seen. Places twisted and strange, filled with horrors that would turn your blood to ice." The Orcs stiffened, their anticipation and excitement tempered with a creeping unease. The idea of unknown realms brought a wary glint to their eyes, but there was no fear, only a readiness¡ªa need to know what lay beyond. Volk raised a hand, counting off with his thick fingers as he began listing off these terrifying realms. "FIRST! There could be an Abyssal Spire! It''s a twisted tower that stretches up forever. Its walls are carved from the bones of dead gods, and its floors drip with the blood of lost souls. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Each floor''s filled with horrors that crawl from the shadows, creatures with more teeth than sense. They hunt anything that enters¡ªshadows that become solid, claws that pierce through flesh without mercy. "It''s a place where even the ground turns on you. Weaklings? They don''t last a second." Several Orcs shifted uncomfortably, muttering to themselves. Their faces twisted in a blend of horror and awe, picturing the monstrosities Volk described with vivid detail. "SECOND!" Volk thundered, cutting off their murmurs. "There could be a Bleeding Swamp! Maybe it''s a realm of nothing but black, thick muck that smells like the rot of a thousand dead things. "The trees have eyes¡ªalways watching, always waiting. Each step you take, the ground tries to pull you down. "The water? "It''s red as blood, filled with leeches the size of wolves, and they''ll latch on and suck you dry in seconds. If the creatures don''t take you, the swamp itself will. A place of endless hunger." He spat on the ground, the act of pure disgust. The Orcs grimaced, several of them glancing at one another, their expressions shadowed with doubt. The idea of the swamp''s grotesque, lurking inhabitants weighed heavily on them, the very description enough to make even the bravest among them think twice. "THIRD!" Volk''s hand dropped, his gaze darkening further as he continued. "There could be a realm called Silent Gorge¡ªa place of perpetual night. It''s said there''s no sound there, not a whisper, not a breath. The darkness is so thick it''s like it seeps into your skin, drowning you from the inside. "And in that darkness? There are things¡­ things that move, things that hunt, things that get into your mind, twistin'' your thoughts. There''s no safety, no light, and no mercy. A single step can end you." The Orcs listened, their faces paling slightly. There was no pride, no bravado among them, only the stark realization of the realms they would face. They couldn''t fathom such places, each one darker and deadlier than the last. "FOURTH!" Volk roared, his voice even louder, cutting through their unease. "There could be a realm called Screaming Mountains too! These peaks are cursed, riddled with voices that never stop, screaming for eternity, and every voice belongs to someone who fell there. "They say the wind itself turns to knives, slicing flesh, drawing blood. The rocks crumble underfoot, dropping you into pits of spikes, flames, and worse. It''s not a place for cowards. Only the strongest survive." Excitement mingled with fear in the Orcs'' eyes, the terror of it all blending with a growing eagerness. Their pulses quickened, a wild anticipation flickering in their minds. They could almost hear the tortured screams, feel the sharp sting of the wind on their skin. "FIFTH!" Volk''s voice dropped lower, each word carrying a weight that made the air feel thicker, harder to breathe. "Maybe a Mirror City. It''s a place that looks like a city of glass, but each mirror holds a shadow, a copy of you that''s stronger, faster, meaner. Every time you kill one, two more take its place. "There''s no end, only endless battles against yourself, until your mind breaks or your body does. A place that forces you to face what you are¡­ and devours the weak." The Orcs were silent, staring at him, their eyes wide and shining with a mix of emotions¡ªfear, awe, anticipation. Volk''s words had painted vivid scenes in their minds, realms of unimaginable horror and danger, yet the thrill of conquest stirred within them, a spark of desire to crush these terrors, to prove themselves against the worst the worlds had to offer. Volk''s gaze raked over them, fierce and unyielding, his presence demanding, challenging. "AND THERE''S MORE," he said, voice dropping to a low growl. "Worlds we can''t even imagine, horrors that would make the gods tremble. But here''s the truth¡ªyou''ll only survive if you remember what you are!" His words hit them like hammer blows, each one striking at the heart of their primal nature, each one stirring the beast within them, the unbreakable spirit of warriors who refused to die, who refused to surrender. Volk could see it, the fire rekindling in their eyes, the uncertainty replaced by a burning resolve. "So I ask you, once again¡ªwill we be satisfied with just one ranker world?" he bellowed, his voice echoing, roaring through the catacombs, a challenge and a promise all in one. "NO!" The crowd of Orcs responded, louder, fiercer than before, their voices united in one deafening roar. Volk''s grin was dark, a flash of teeth as he took in the determination on their faces, the fierce loyalty. Even the Orc he had beaten was there, battered but standing tall, shouting with the others, his eyes blazing with the same fierce desire for conquest. "GOOD!" Volk shouted, his voice booming with finality. "This journey won''t be for the faint-hearted. It won''t be for the weak. We''ll face terrors beyond imagining, fight enemies who''ll show no mercy. "We''ll go to places where every breath will feel like our last. But we''re not running from it." He took a step back, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "We''ll tear through the Orzaroth realm and any others that stand in our way. They will remember our names. And they will fear us." The Orcs'' hearts thundered in their chests, the fire of his words igniting a flame that could not be extinguished. "REST WELL!" Volk''s final command echoed through the hall, fierce and unbreakable. "Tomorrow, we conquer the Orzaroth realm!" Chapter 198 - 198: Strange Dream The torches in the vast catacombs cast flickering shadows across the rugged stone walls, creating a dim, eerie ambiance as the Orcs gathered around their Watchief. The stale, ancient air filled their lungs, and every Orc had their eyes on Volk, waiting for his next command. They could see his eyes glint with a feral spark, the weight of untold plans hidden behind a steadfast gaze. The atmosphere buzzed with tension, a mix of curiosity and trepidation, as the Orcs dared to address him with their questions. One of the older Orcs stepped forward, bowing his head in respect. "Watchief, what do you mean by that?" he asked in a low, gravelly voice that rumbled through the quiet room like distant thunder. Volk''s jaw tightened, his muscles twitching as he sized up the crowd, the spark in his eyes hardening to steel. "It means," he said, pausing for emphasis, "that when we land in the Orzaroth realm, nothing is certain. Maybe it''s a realm that doesn''t take kindly to outsiders or it does. But it''s best we assume the worst. "Like we could be facing unknowns¡ªterrain that won''t welcome us, beasts that''d tear through us without a second thought, and¡­ other dangers." Another Orc leaned forward, expression both curious and anxious. "But we''re together, right? As a Horde?" His voice held an edge, his words uncertain. Volk''s expression darkened, his lips pulling into a tight line as he clenched his fists. "Yes. We''re a Horde, always. But this isn''t a simple march into a new world." He let his gaze sweep over the crowd, lingering on each Orc. "Orzaroth¡­ it''s unpredictable. Even the syst¡ªcatacomb doesn''t control where each of us will land. We may touch down near each other¡­ or we may be scattered across realms¡ª" The Orcs shifted uneasily, glancing at each other, whispers rippling through the ranks. Volk saw their worry, their discomfort at the unknown. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The truth was, he didn''t want them to panic. If they knew the full extent of their separation in the new realm, the Horde''s morale could shatter before the battle even began. For an Orc, trust in one''s Horde was sacred¡ªa bond forged through battle and shared blood. If they feared for one another, feared that each battle might be fought alone, the confidence he''d so carefully built might falter. No, Volk would keep their fears at bay. There would be no weakness tonight. He squared his shoulders, his voice resonating with firm resolve as he listed the potential dangers they might face. "When we touch down, we can land anywhere. Be prepared. Some of you might find yourselves in a land of endless lava plains, searing your flesh with every step." A low murmur of concern passed through the group. Lava plains¡ªhot, relentless, treacherous ground that could melt through armor. "And some," Volk continued, his voice deep and unyielding, "may be thrust into a freezing wasteland, where the air bites like blades and the ground is a death trap of ice and shadows. "Where the cold seeps into your bones, making every breath feel like your last." Several Orcs shifted uncomfortably, imagining the brutal chill of such a place. The tension grew thicker, their eyes fixed on Volk. "There are seas in Orzaroth that hold creatures with teeth like spears, monsters that''ll pull you under and feast on you alive. Imagine endless water, nothing to stand on, just the icy depths pulling you down." More murmurs spread through the group, eyes darting from Volk to each other, uncertain yet riveted by his words. "And some of you," he said, his voice lowering ominously, "could land in poison swamps, where the air itself is toxic, breathing itself a challenge. The ground seeps with muck, ready to pull down anyone who missteps." The Orcs swallowed, the vivid imagery of each hellish landscape hardening their expressions, steeling them for the dangers that awaited. But Volk wasn''t finished. "Acidic marshlands, where the very earth can burn you alive. Shadowed forests, filled with beasts that blend with the night, their claws sharper than any steel." He paused, his voice even lower, as if speaking directly to their core fears. "Cursed plains, where the air carries the wails of the dead, a place that drains your strength, leaving only your bones." The Orcs listened, hearts pounding, breaths growing shallower. Yet their eyes burned with resolve. "And," Volk added, his voice a solemn growl, "even the chance that we may not land together. That''s the reality of going to unknown lower realms, like this Orzaroth. It''s not just about surviving the elements¡ªit''s about surviving alone." The silence stretched, heavy and charged. The Orcs took a collective breath, each of them weighed down by the thought of fighting in isolation. But then, as if by unspoken agreement, they each nodded, one by one, their gazes hard and unwavering. They would stand by Volk''s side, no matter what lay ahead. They would prove their worth as Orcs. Satisfied, Volk nodded back, approving of their resolve. The Orcs dispersed, some murmuring among themselves about the dangers Volk had described, others choosing to rest, preparing themselves for the journey ahead. They lay down, each mind filled with the promise of Orzaroth, a realm where survival was a relentless, endless battle. Volk found himself a place apart from the others, his mind heavy with thoughts as he lay back, staring up at the stone ceiling. It was rare for him to feel the weight of his own words, to be burdened by the uncertainty of a mission. Yet tonight, he could feel it¡ªthe unspoken tension, the knowledge that come tomorrow, they would face the unknown. Soon, his heavy eyes closed, and sleep claimed him. In the depths of his slumber, images flickered through his mind, a chaotic blend of memories and sensations. He was not in Orzaroth; he was somewhere else entirely. Earth. Volk''s brow furrowed in his sleep, his body tensing as scenes from his past played out, echoing with voices from a time long gone. Cold, sterile rooms, walls of white and gray, a hum of electric lights above. He could see them¡ªthe scientists that had experimented on him, the people who had brought him to this strange, magical world. Their faces were obscured, but he recognized their voices, clinical and detached. "Look at his body¡ªit''s twitching," one of them said, his voice filled with an unnerving mix of curiosity and calculation. "Do you think the experiment is working?" A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, followed by the shuffling of feet and the clinking of metal instruments. They stood around a cold steel table, papers scattered across it, each one marked with strange, intricate formulas. "Should we test it?" another voice asked, hesitant yet filled with intrigue. "We can''t. We don''t have the funding for a full-scale test. Not yet." There was a sigh, a pause, filled with frustration. "But we can''t just leave it. We''ve come so far¡­" "But the risk," one voice argued, tense. "If something goes wrong, if it fails, we''re liable for more than just a failed experiment. There''s no budget for damages." Silence hung in the air as they debated, the tension thick and almost palpable. One of them reached out, fingers grazing the instruments on the table. "We need to know if it''s viable. The board won''t approve another dime without results." Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. One scientist, a woman with a clipped, precise tone, folded her arms, her gaze sharp and unyielding. "We could perform a minor test¡ªjust enough to see if he responds." "Agreed," said another, almost reluctantly. "But nothing invasive. Not until we''re certain." The argument continued, their voices merging into a cacophony, each word laced with careful, clinical detachment, as if Volk was a mere specimen on a tray. He could feel it¡ªthe cold bite of metal restraints, the prick of needles as they prepared to test his limits, to push him further. In his mind, they loomed over him, masked faces peering down, surgical tools gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. The glint of metal was a promise, a threat, as they circled him like predators ready to pounce. And then, suddenly, the image shifted, the lab fading, dissolving into the darkness of the catacombs. His brow relaxed, his body settled, and he opened his eyes. Volk blinked, the shadows of the past fading from his mind as he took in the quiet scene around him. The warrior Orcs lay sprawled across the floor, resting soundly, their breaths deep and even. He frowned, mumbling to himself as he studied their still forms, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him. "Strange¡­" he muttered under his breath, casting a final glance at his slumbering Horde. Then, settling back against the cold stone, he let sleep claim him once more, the weight of tomorrow''s battles fading into the quiet of the night. Chapter 199 - 199: Disturbance In the dark, silent cavern, Volk lay sprawled against the stone floor, his heavy form motionless in slumber. The air was dense, the atmosphere almost suffocating as if the entire room held its breath. A faint tremor began to ripple through the floor, barely noticeable at first, like the distant hum of an approaching storm. It quivered beneath Volk''s thick hide, a subtle vibration that would barely have stirred a mouse, let alone the formidable Watchief. But the tremor didn''t stop there. It grew steadily stronger, pulsing like the beat of a monstrous heart, sending soft waves up his spine, yet Volk barely shifted. His breathing remained deep and steady, his face buried into the crook of his arm. The tremor became a low, rumbling sound, almost like the rumble of an earthquake rolling underfoot, growing and growing until it became impossible to ignore. Outside the circle of his slumber, the Orcs stirred, eyes darting around in confusion. Some staggered to their feet, clutching their weapons and looking for a source of the disturbance. Another tremor shook the floor, this one strong enough to rattle the stone walls. One of the Orcs, his eyes wide, stared at his chief''s unmoving form and barked, "What''s going on?! We need to wake the Watchief! If there''s danger, he needs to know!" But Volk merely shifted, turning his face to the other side as if sinking deeper into his dreams. He gave a slight snort, completely oblivious to the rising chaos around him. Another Orc, a stout warrior with a scar slicing through one eye, shoved forward and looked at Volk''s massive form lying there, untouched by the disturbance. "Someone! Get him up already!" he shouted, frustration creasing his brows. He stepped forward, pounding a fist against Volk''s arm. Nothing. Volk''s eyelids didn''t even flicker. He was like a boulder, impervious and unyielding. The scarred Orc grumbled under his breath, "By the gods, he''s really out this time. All right¡ªlet''s try harder!" He gestured to two more Orcs nearby, and the three of them positioned themselves on either side of the sleeping Watchief, each taking aim as they prepared to jostle him awake. One of them raised a club high above his head and brought it down with a solid thwack! against Volk''s shoulder. The sound echoed through the cavern, the club vibrating from the force, yet Volk merely mumbled and turned, scratching his head as though brushing away an insect. "Is this some kind of spell?" another Orc muttered, worry etching into his voice as he glanced between Volk and the others. "He''s sleeping like a rock!" "More like a mountain!" a voice hissed from the back, nervousness lacing each word. "A mountain that won''t budge!" More Orcs gathered around, exchanging anxious glances, unsure of what to do. Some grabbed loose stones from the ground, muttering under their breaths, and began to hurl them at their Watchief. Thunk! Clink! Stones clattered off Volk''s back, rolling uselessly to the side. An Orc with a deep, growling voice raised his arms, trying to calm the increasingly panicked Horde. "Enough! We need something bigger." He eyed a massive chunk of stone nearby, his expression a mix of determination and desperation. "Bring that over here. If this doesn''t work, nothing will!" Two Orcs grunted, heaving the stone with all their might until they positioned it above Volk. With a shared nod, they let it fall, sending it crashing onto Volk''s side with a resounding BOOM! The Watchief merely grumbled, his brow furrowing, his lips parting to release a low, half-mumbled growl. "Hngh¡­ let me sleep¡­" he muttered, scratching at his shoulder, his voice thick with drowsiness. His hand fell back to his side, and, as though nothing had happened, he drifted deeper into slumber. The Orcs surrounding him groaned, some shaking their heads in disbelief, while others clutched at their weapons, the tremors beneath them growing fiercer with each passing second. "This is ridiculous!" an Orc cried, exasperation clear in his tone. "We''ve been throwing everything we can find at him, and he''s not even stirring! What is it going to take to wake this beast?" Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A young, wiry Orc looked nervously at the shaking ground beneath them, his voice barely more than a whisper. "If the Watchief doesn''t wake up soon, we''ll be buried alive! The walls are gonna crumble!" An elder Orc, his voice gravelly and worn with age, scowled and crossed his arms. "Maybe he''s enchanted. Some kind of spell put on him, or worse¡ªsomething''s bound him here." He leaned down close to Volk''s ear and shouted with all his might, "WAKE UP, YOU GREAT LUMP OF ROCK!" Volk snorted, but his eyes remained closed. His breathing was steady, deep, utterly unphased by the mounting danger. "I''m telling you, it''s useless," another Orc muttered, shaking his head in defeat. "We''ve hit him with everything we''ve got. He''s like a boulder¡ªnothing''s going to stir him." Yet, even as despair began to settle over the Horde, they couldn''t abandon their leader. One by one, they lined up, each taking their turn to strike, shove, yell, anything they could think of, but it was no use. Volk was trapped in his sleep, far from the world of their cries and pleas. Meanwhile, the tremors continued, louder now, filling the air with an ominous rumble. Stone dust trickled from above, cracks spider-webbing across the ceiling. "Watchief!" a young Orc screamed, voice trembling as he stared wide-eyed at the cracking walls. "The ceiling''s coming down! Please! We need you!" But Volk remained still, utterly unfazed, his breathing steady, locked in the world of his dreams. The Orcs could do nothing but watch, torn between despair and loyalty. They were losing hope¡ªuntil one Orc, his voice filled with a last, desperate plea, shouted into the growing chaos: "Orzarth take me if I give up now! WATCHIEF, IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, WE NEED YOU! WAKE UP, NOW!" And with that, something shifted in Volk''s dreams. He stirred, just barely, his brow twitching, a faint frown settling across his face. The voices reached him, echoing in his mind like distant thunder. Somewhere, through the haze of sleep, he could hear them¡ªfaint, frantic, filled with worry and fear. The distant echoes grew sharper, louder, until they swelled in his mind, voices clashing, pounding at the edges of his consciousness. "Wake up¡­ Watchief¡­ danger¡­ we need you¡­" He felt a jolt, a sudden flash of discomfort like the sharp edge of a blade scraping against stone. Then came a harder sensation, almost like the crash of a hammer against his side, as if someone had struck him full force. Volk frowned, scratching absently at his head as he turned over, sinking once more into the comforting darkness of sleep. The Orcs, meanwhile, exchanged hopeless glances, realizing they''d tried everything. As a final act of desperation, they began to chant, their voices rising together as they cried out, "WAKE UP, VOLK! WAKE UP, WATCHIEF!" Volk shifted, the chant pricking at his mind, pulling him slowly from the clutches of his deep slumber. It was as if he could feel their panic, their fear and loyalty, seeping into his consciousness. The pounding grew louder, the voices piercing through, until finally, with a groggy, annoyed growl, Volk''s eyes opened a sliver, blearily taking in the anxious faces surrounding him. He blinked slowly, his vision clearing as the world came into focus, and his mouth twisted into a half-snarl, half-yawn. "What¡­ what''s all this racket?" he muttered, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep. He looked around, his brows knitting together in confusion at the sight of his Horde, their expressions a strange mix of relief and anxiety. "Watchief!" one of them cried, stepping forward. "You''re awake!" "Finally!" another muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. "We''ve been trying to wake you for ages!" Volk''s gaze hardened, taking in the scene before him. "What¡­ what''s going on?" he asked, his voice growing more alert as he noted the worry etched into each Orc''s face. His muscles tensed, his senses sharpening. "And why do you all look like you''ve seen a ghost?" The Orcs shared a look, some sighing in relief, others smirking at their Watchief''s familiar scowl. "Long story, Watchief," one of them said, "but trust us¡ªyou''re lucky we didn''t just leave you to snore away." Volk growled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. "Lucky? Hmph. I''d say it''s you who''s lucky¡­ I didn''t dream of taking my axe to the lot of you." The Orcs laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that filled the cavern, the tension breaking as their Watchief''s familiar strength filled the room once more. Chapter 200 - 200: Swallowed The air in the cavern had become thick with dust and tension, the walls pulsing with a strange, steady hum that seemed to build with each second. Volk''s brow furrowed as he looked around at the anxious faces of his Orcs, his voice echoing in the vast space. "What''s the problem, Horde?" he barked, irritation flashing in his eyes. His voice came out low and gravelly, sharp enough to cut through the din of muttered voices and creaking stone. An Orc stepped forward, the tremor of fear visible in his gaze as he gestured around them. "Watchief¡­ the cave¡­ it''s crumbling." "Crumbling?" Volk''s brows knitted together. He cast a sweeping glance around him, his gaze following the jagged cracks spider-webbing along the walls, winding their way like veins of some massive, ancient creature coming to life. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble more insistently, as though something monstrous lay just below, struggling to break free. Before he could fully take in the sight, a flickering system screen blinked to life in his line of vision, glowing ominously against the dim light of the cavern. Ding! | TIME ESTIMATE: 30 SECONDS TO THE ORZAROTH REALM! | THE HOST MUST PREPARE¡­ BECAUSE THE PROCESS WOULDN''T BE PAINLESS EVEN IF THE HOST AND THE HORDE WERE ORCS!" Volk''s jaw clenched, the words a stark reminder of the fate looming over them. "Alright!" He snapped his head back to his Horde, eyes blazing with a fierce determination. "Brace yourselves because we are now on our way!," he commanded, his voice hard and unyielding. "We''re heading down to the Orzaroth realm. The place where they''ve sent our wives, our partners¡ªour symbiotic halves." His voice was like iron, ringing out clear and firm. "We must find them. Unite. Complete the Horde! Dominate the realm. Invade the other lower realm and finally go back to the higher realm for our payback against these Warlocks and Dark elves!!" The Orcs nodded, some swallowing nervously, others gripping their weapons tighter as if clinging to the only lifeline left in this collapsing world. They had come here through countless battles, fought side by side, bled together. They could feel the weight of Volk''s words, and the mission was clear: survival, unification, completion. But even as resolve hardened in their chests, the ground shuddered violently beneath their feet, the tremors intensifying, and a low, guttural groan echoed through the cavern. A deep crack split across the ground right before Volk''s eyes, spreading out like a web of dark lines ready to engulf them whole. He watched as stones began to drop from the ceiling in a slow, relentless rhythm, a precursor to the inevitable collapse. CRACK! The ground lurched, and another tremor hit, more violent than the last. The entire cavern seemed to convulse, a giant beast thrashing against its own restraints. The noise was deafening, like the wailing of some ancient spirit coming to claim them. KABAARRRGHH! KABAAAARRGH! KABAAAARRGH!! The Catacomb itself felt almost alive, as though it were drawing a long, agonized breath, preparing for a final release. Suddenly, the ceiling high above began to split, small pieces falling first, each landing with a crunch that echoed off the stone walls. Cracks raced down the walls, intertwining and crossing, widening like the mouth of a great, unseen beast poised to swallow them whole. "WATCHIEF!" one of the Orcs screamed, voice raw and desperate as he clutched his head. "THE GROUND¡ªIT''S¡ªIT''S¡ª!" The earth below them began to crumble, the once-solid stone transforming into a treacherous, shifting floor. The cavern shuddered, sending Orcs stumbling, desperately clawing for footing as the ground gave way beneath them. Some teetered on the edge, wide-eyed and terrified, clutching at the earth as if it would hold them back from the yawning abyss that had begun to form. "We''re all going to be swallowed!" one of the younger Orcs cried, his voice a frantic wail as he scrambled backward, watching in horror as the floor broke apart in jagged chunks. "Stand your ground! Don''t panic!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the panic like a blade. He stood rooted, his own feet slipping as the ground buckled beneath him, yet his stance was defiant, unyielding. But even his voice couldn''t fully silence the rising wave of dread that gripped the Horde as the very earth under them trembled with relentless fury. The Catacomb groaned again, a sound so deep it vibrated through their bones, and the cracks expanded, large pieces of stone dropping away, leaving yawning chasms that reached deep into the darkness below. Then, without warning, the ground fell away under the feet of one of the Orcs near Volk. He let out a piercing scream, AAAARRGHHH! hands grasping desperately at the edge as his feet dangled over the void. Another Orc tried to grab him, but the stone crumbled between his fingers, slipping through like sand. The Orc fell, his scream echoing into the darkness until it was swallowed by silence. The rest of the Horde watched, their faces twisted in horror, as their brother disappeared into the chasm, leaving nothing but the chilling memory of his final, desperate cry. The fear spread like wildfire, and one by one, they all began to scream, voices mingling into a frantic cacophony. "No¡ªno! This isn''t happening!" one Orc shouted, his eyes wide with terror, hands shaking as he gripped his weapon like it could somehow save him from the collapsing earth. "Hold fast!" another yelled, though his voice trembled with barely contained fear. "Watchief!" another Orc screamed, his voice breaking, "The ground¡ªit''s swallowing us! What do we do?" But Volk barely heard them. His gaze was locked forward, his jaw set, even as the ground fractured further beneath him, the inevitable descent bearing down on them. Yet, despite it all, his eyes gleamed with an indomitable spirit. He inhaled deeply, pulling in the chaos around him, the screams, the fear, the tension¡ªhe could feel it all, pounding in his chest. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He threw his head back, his voice rising over the din, raw and filled with a primal ferocity. "LOK''TAAAAAR¡­ OGAAAAAAR!" The battle cry reverberated through the cavern, piercing the panicked cries of his Horde. They joined in, their voices a chorus of rage and defiance as they rallied together, fists clenched, weapons raised, their screams mingling into a single, bloodthirsty roar. "LOK''TAAAAAR¡­ OGAAAAAAR!" The Catacomb groaned, its final breath, as the ground split wide open, swallowing them whole one by one. The Orcs fell, each plummeting into the darkness, their cries fading as they were pulled into the abyss. Volk was the last to fall, the ground giving way beneath him as he felt the rush of air pulling him down. His eyes flared with determination, his mouth still open in that battle cry as he plunged into the darkness. His mind sharpened, each sense heightened as he felt himself hurtling toward the unknown. They were descending into the Orzaroth, thrown into the maw of the next realm with no promise of return. They would be scattered, separated, broken¡ªbut Volk knew, as his scream echoed through the darkness, that they would find each other again. This wasn''t the end. It was only the beginning. Together, or apart, they would conquer. Chapter 201 - 201: Awakened Dark elf From beneath the barren, twisted soil of the Orzaroth realm, a slender, jet-black hand clawed its way through the ground, talons scraping against loose stone with a sharp scrrrrk. The hand rose higher, soon revealing a forearm cloaked in a midnight shimmer, and then a shoulder, as an entire figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the earth. She was tall, slender yet powerful, her silhouette both elegant and predatory. This was Urza''lin, the Sorceress of the Void and warrior of the Dark Elves from the upper realm, now exiled to the depths of Orzaroth. As she rose to her full height, Urza''lin stood still, catching her breath, though her face twisted into an expression of disdain. Her dark, piercing eyes narrowed as she muttered, voice dripping with resentment. "That damned... Orc." Her hand clenched, talons digging into her palm as she spoke aloud, her words thick with venom. "Almost bested me¡­ me, Urza''lin! To think that savage beast had the audacity¡ªno, the strength¡ªto challenge my might." The memories of her battle in that cursed catacomb flickered in her mind like jagged shards of broken glass. She saw Volk, his twisted, monstrous Horde at his back, tearing through her defenses with brutal force. His sneering face haunted her, and she spat in disgust. "He nearly killed me, that¡­ beast. How? An Orc¡ªno, an Ogre-Orc hybrid of some sort were usually normal but that Orc, something unnatural, he has something unnatural, twisted." Urza''lin''s eyes darkened as she recalled the reason she had even found herself weakened in the first place. It had been an unfortunate turn of events¡ªshe had been in the midst of her preparations to storm the warlocks'' stronghold, her own strength reaching a pinnacle when she first encountered Volk. But something went wrong¡ªno, someone interfered. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching. She would never forget that fateful ambush from the upper realm''s Hunters, those detestable, so-called "peacekeepers." It was they who had wounded her, driving her to a point of desperation and then being sent on a mission to subdue Orcs because it would be easy¡­ "Easy my ass," she cursed. Now, that ease had forced her retreat into the lower realms. Urza''lin tone grew bitter, resentful. "Forced me down here, to these disgusting, savage lands. Stripped of my status, of all my magic¡­ of my control." The memory of her power, now diminished and scattered, gnawed at her pride. She had come to the lower realms with a mission¡ªto enslave and unite the savage Orcs under her banner, to rally them in an unstoppable army against the warlocks who had opposed her. She had planned to use the Orcs'' brute strength to overwhelm the magic of those damnable warlocks, to watch them crumble under her forces. And yet¡­ here she was, trapped and vulnerable. Urza''lin clenched her fists, feeling the dirt crumble between her fingers as her anger simmered. "This was not the way it was meant to go," she muttered, her voice cold and vengeful. "I should have enslaved those brutes and wiped out every warlock in my way. But instead, I was thrown into battle unprepared, weakened, humiliated. And that thing¡ª" She spat, thinking of Volk''s snarling face once more. "¡ªhad the audacity to stand against me." Her gaze hardened, determination burning anew in her eyes. She would not let this setback defeat her. No, she would rise from this pit, stronger than ever. She knew the way back to the upper realms¡ªalbeit difficult, the path was not impossible. But she needed power to forge it. She needed strength, an army, and absolute control. "First," Urza''lin muttered to herself, the bitterness in her voice replaced with a dark, hungry ambition. "I must gather an army." Her gaze flickered with malice as she envisioned her next steps. "Find those Elves lurking in the shadows¡­ twist them to my will. Break every Orc Ogre that comes my way." She chuckled coldly, the sound echoing in the empty silence. "By using their elven wives or symbiotic mates here¡­ well, they''ll make perfect leverage." A cruel smile tugged at her lips as her plan unfurled in her mind, taking on a twisted clarity. "Yes¡­ I''ll use them against their mates. Make them watch as their kin fall in line beneath my power, their hearts torn and broken, helpless to do anything but serve." Urza''lin''s eyes gleamed with malevolent satisfaction. The Orcs were a prideful, stubborn species, their wills strong, but that only made it all the more exhilarating. She would grind down that pride, one by one, until they bowed at her feet. "I''ll have them all in chains, groveling before me¡­ or dead. Or worse, I''ll force them to male children and then sacrifice those disgusting mutts!" With each word, her vision became clearer, each step of her plan meticulously crafted. "Yes, yes, yes!" She muutered. "I''ll build my strength here, find out exactly what realm I''ve landed in¡­ Orzaroth, or whatever they call it. Find every opportunity, every ally or slave I can exploit." She narrowed her eyes, surveying the barren landscape, taking in the harsh, twisted land around her. "I''ll tear through it, bend it to my will. Then, when I''ve gathered enough strength, enough bodies in my horde, I''ll return. And I''ll wipe those warlocks from existence. They won''t stand a chance." S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. She paused, savoring the satisfaction that came with the thought. She could almost see it now: the broken forms of her enemies, the elves and Orcs alike, begging for mercy they would never receive. But first¡­ the immediate task at hand. Her eyes roamed the desolate landscape, calculating and cold. She needed to understand where she was, to scout this unknown realm. "If there are Elves," she said aloud, voice dripping with scorn, "I will find them. And I''ll crush any resistance they have to offer." Her voice softened, but the threat hung heavy in the air. "This realm¡­ it''s nothing but my stepping stone. Every creature here will bow before me." Taking one final, calming breath, Urza''lin steeled herself, mentally preparing for the long journey ahead. But as she stared into the uncharted depths of Orzaroth, her mind spun with schemes, dark fantasies of conquest and revenge. She would turn this realm upside down. And when she had what she needed, when the warlocks lay in ruin and her Hunters lay in graves, her vengeance would be complete. Not long, Urza''lin stalked into the dark forest, her eyes narrowed, body tense as she slipped between twisted trees and thick, choking vines. The forest was alive with the faint, unsettling sounds of nocturnal creatures prowling unseen¡ªsnapping branches, the rustle of leaves, the occasional eerie whisper of wings slicing through the damp night air. Yet despite her keen hearing and sharpened instincts, she couldn''t pin down a single creature. They were there, lurking just out of reach, but every time she turned, every time she poised herself to strike, there was nothing. Only the stillness of the shadowy trees. Swish¡ªa branch moved in the corner of her eye. Urza''lin spun around, teeth bared, only to find empty air. She exhaled sharply, fists tightening. "These blasted lower-realm pests," she muttered, voice laced with contempt. She could feel them¡ªjust out of sight, slipping through the shadows, taunting her. There was movement all around her, too swift and subtle for her to catch hold of. Again, she whirled, her gaze sweeping the darkness, searching. Nothing but shadows. Again and again, the faintest hint of movement teased her vision¡ªshapes darting in the periphery of her sight, slithering through the blackness. She bared her fangs, a curse hissing between them. "Cowardly creatures." She couldn''t afford to waste her magic on mere scouting; she needed to preserve every precious drop she had left. Her reserves had already been dangerously depleted during her last battle in the catacomb, and the energy she''d used to cast that final spell to banish the damned Elves alongside her had left her nearly drained. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her dagger, knuckles white. The forest was mocking her, it seemed. Every rustle of leaves, every crack of a twig felt like a twisted joke at her expense. Her instincts screamed at her to attack, to lash out, to remind this cursed forest that she was no common prey. But she couldn''t. Not yet. Not until she understood what she was dealing with. A whispering rustle to her left. She spun, her vision sharp, narrowed, focusing on the flicker of movement¡ªbut there was only darkness. It was maddening. These creatures, whatever they were, were as elusive as shadows themselves. Her patience wore thin, and she growled, her voice a low snarl. "I will find you, vermin. And when I do, I will rip you apart, piece by piece." She moved cautiously, every step precise, silent. But again, as soon as she took another step, something darted at the edge of her vision. She cursed, catching only the briefest flash of silver glinting in the moonlight before it vanished. What in the void was this place hiding? She was no stranger to the unknown, but this was different. The creatures in this realm, whatever they were, had a skill that disturbed her¡ªevading her senses, slipping just beyond her grasp. Her frustration grew with each passing second. She had been a predator in countless realms, bending beasts and men alike to her will. This place, however, seemed to defy her power. Here, she felt almost¡­ vulnerable. The thought clawed at her pride, a bitter reminder of her weakened state. She hated it, loathed every second of this indignity. But she couldn''t afford to lose herself to fury. She had to be cautious. These creatures, though lower-realm spawn, could pose a danger in her current state. A movement, closer this time, quick and sharp. Her senses flared, her body ready to strike¡ªyet once more, the moment passed, and there was nothing. "Damn you!" she spat, the words laced with venom. "Hiding in shadows like rats¡­ I will find you. I will skin every last one of you if I must." Her eyes burned as she searched, breath steady but laced with irritation. She knew she couldn''t afford to waste more energy. The spells she''d woven to banish the Elves alongside herself had drained her deeply, drawing from reserves she couldn''t replenish in this cursed realm. Even her most basic magic felt heavy, sluggish. Here, the air was thick, almost hostile, leeching at her power. She was no fool. She would save her strength. She could afford no more mistakes. Urza''lin''s senses remained sharp, attuned to the slightest hint of movement, every flicker of shadow. She crept forward, her feet soundless on the soft earth, scanning her surroundings. Every brush of wind, every rustle of leaves, every whisper of unseen creatures prickled against her skin. Yet each time she prepared herself to strike, they vanished, slipping through her grasp like smoke. Her frustration grew, simmering beneath her calm, deliberate movements. Minutes dragged by, each heartbeat thudding in her ears. The sense of being watched¡ªstalked¡ªgnawed at her. She knew she was not alone, knew she was not the only predator in these woods. But her vision, her senses betrayed her. Her magic was all but spent, and the creatures, whatever they were, remained elusive. She stopped, her chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. Silence blanketed the forest, and she stood, unmoving, her gaze sweeping over the twisted trees and darkened foliage. The creatures had stopped. For now. But she knew they would return, lurking, taunting her. Her fingers itched to tear into something solid, to remind this realm that she was no easy prey. And then, without warning, she felt it¡ªa shift, a tremor. Her entire body stilled, her senses sharpened to a razor''s edge. The air grew colder, heavier, pressing down on her like an invisible weight. She looked up, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the inky sky above. Chapter 202 - 202: Raining Meteors Across the vast, untamed landscapes of the Orzaroth Realm, creatures of myth and magic stirred in their ancient, primal rhythms. Each realm, as diverse as the lives it held, played host to creatures of tremendous power and otherworldly splendor. And tonight, as shadows lengthened and night crept across the land, they all lifted their heads to the sky, to a sight that would shatter the tranquility of their existence. From the heavens, a fiery streak appeared¡ªa blazing, furious meteor tearing through the cosmos with an energy that could only foretell calamity. --- In the heart of the Whispering Mire, a swamp that stretched endlessly under a canopy of twisted, gnarled trees, the air was thick and dense with the scent of damp earth and decaying foliage. The murky waters bubbled as strange, luminous insects flitted in the darkness, their bodies pulsing with pale blue light. Nestled amid a bed of rotting leaves was the giant Murkwyrm¡ªa massive serpent covered in scales like polished obsidian, each reflecting the eerie light around it. It rested, coiled and watchful, as tiny tendrils of fog swirled around its form. Suddenly, the ground trembled, and the creature raised its head, forked tongue flicking in the air. A brilliant flash of light pierced through the dense canopy above, followed by a distant, roaring sound that seemed to shake the very trees. The Murkwyrm''s golden eyes narrowed, its long body uncoiling slowly as it fixed its gaze on the blazing comet descending toward the swamp. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. As it neared, the light illuminated the creature''s scales, casting strange shadows that danced along the water''s surface. With a hissing screech, the Murkwyrm dove into the swamp, seeking cover as the meteor struck the edge of the mire. A shockwave of energy tore through the swamp, sending waves splashing against trees and lifting clouds of mist in all directions. The serpent watched from its hiding place as the impact sent the swamp into turmoil, the once-still waters now churning with a terrible intensity. --- In the Emberveil Peaks, high in the jagged, fiery mountains, a colossal wyvern with scales like molten rock basked on a ledge near a smoldering volcanic vent. This was Magmathra, the Fireheart Wyvern, feared by all who dared approach her territory. Her wings, tattered from centuries of combat, fanned out as she absorbed the heat from the volcanic rocks. Her eyes, two pits of simmering embers, scanned the star-streaked sky above her domain. Suddenly, she saw it¡ªa flash of bright, otherworldly light that outshone even the stars. The meteor''s descent burned in her eyes, a trail of fire and smoke that tore across the night. With a deafening roar, Magmathra rose, her wings flaring out as she let out a warning scream, sensing the foreign energy as it approached. The mountain shook beneath her feet as the comet struck a nearby ridge, sending a river of molten rock cascading down into the valleys below. Magmathra watched as the lava flow spread, her roar mingling with the rumbling earth, a declaration that this invasion of her domain would not go unanswered. Her eyes fixed on the smoking crater, and with another thunderous shriek, she dove toward it, leaving the mountain''s safety to face this mysterious intruder. --- Far to the east, in the Vale of Glimmering Fens, the land was alive with bioluminescent flora and crystals that pulsed with radiant hues. Flocks of ethereal, transparent birds swooped low over the shimmering pools, their feathers leaving trails of light in their wake. Amidst this magical landscape, a group of sylphs¡ªdelicate, winged spirits of the fens¡ªdanced over the waters, their laughter like the ringing of tiny bells. They twirled in a beautiful, synchronized dance, oblivious to the dark sky above. But as the meteor tore through the heavens, a sudden flash broke the rhythm of their movements, and they stopped, their laughter stilled. They looked up, wide-eyed, as the meteor''s fiery tail reflected in the pools below. The sylphs whispered among themselves, voices trembling with fear and awe as the fiery trail descended. When the comet struck, its light burst forth, casting long shadows and causing the crystals around them to hum with energy. The impact rippled through the fens, sending shockwaves that distorted the pools and made the light-drenched flora sway as if in a fierce storm. The sylphs clutched one another, trembling as the ground beneath them vibrated. Their once-peaceful vale was transformed, a scene of beauty thrown into chaos by the force of the strange, fiery visitor. --- Deep within the Thornhollow Forest, the trees grew so dense and tall that only a thin layer of twilight ever reached the forest floor. Towering beasts called Shadestalkers, great creatures with long, spiny limbs and bodies camouflaged to blend with the shadows, prowled here. These creatures, with eyes that glowed faintly in the dark, moved silently through the underbrush, hunting their prey. One such beast, larger and older than the others, paused, raising its head to sniff the air. The scent of something alien, something potent and otherworldly, had reached its senses. Suddenly, the sky above flared with blinding light. The meteor''s tail tore through the branches, cutting a jagged path of fire that momentarily illuminated the entire forest. The Shadestalker reared up on its hind legs, growling in confusion and anger as the ground shook beneath it. Branches cracked, leaves fell like rain, and the forest shuddered with the impact. When the comet struck, it hit with such force that the ground split open, sending a wave of raw energy rippling through the trees. The Shadestalker howled, its usually silent form trembling as the shockwaves passed, leaving it dazed and uncertain in its once-familiar hunting grounds. --- In the Northern Icelands, where the freezing winds howled and ice stretched endlessly beneath a moonless sky, the Frostborn¡ªa towering creature forged from the essence of ice itself¡ªslumbered in its glacial prison. Its crystalline form glowed faintly with a cold blue light, eyes shut, body encased in a thick layer of ancient frost. The Frostborn''s domain was a place of desolation, of eternal winter, where nothing dared disturb the silence. But tonight, something shattered that stillness. A sudden warmth cut through the icy air, the sensation foreign and unsettling. The Frostborn stirred as a brilliant flash of fire cut across the horizon. It opened its eyes, ancient and filled with cold wisdom, staring out as the meteor drew nearer. It could feel the heat, a terrible force that clashed with its own icy essence. As the comet struck, the ground split open, cracks racing across the glacier and sending up geysers of steam as ice met fire. The Frostborn roared, the sound low and rumbling, a sound that echoed for miles across the frozen wasteland. Steam hissed around it as it rose from its prison, no longer content to lie dormant while such a powerful force invaded its territory. --- One by one, across the Orzaroth Realm, powerful beings stirred as the meteor''s impact echoed throughout the land. Each creature, each landscape, felt the tremors of the comet''s arrival, a shockwave that shattered the natural balance and introduced something alien, something powerful. The realm had been peaceful, but the comet''s arrival shattered that tranquility, sparking fear, fury, and curiosity in the hearts of its inhabitants. And as the dust settled, as the shockwaves faded, they didn''t know that a new era would begin to dawn over Orzaroth¡ªone where these ancient, powerful beings would either face this threat or be consumed by it. Chapter 203 - 203: Volk Descends Volk plummeted down, his body stretched and twisted in the strange kaleidoscope of colors and shapes around him. A chaotic blur of shimmering light and unfathomable darkness surrounded him. The sensation of weightlessness turned to an all-consuming, pulling force that yanked at him from every direction, like he was being unspooled through space itself. His vision warped, narrowing to a pinpoint before expanding again, colors flashing and swirling in dizzying patterns. His ears rang with a high-pitched whine that rose to a fever pitch, drowning out all thought and reason. WHOOOOOOMPH! Another tug pulled at him, harder than before, a pull so intense it felt like his very bones might dislocate. His skin burned, the force tearing at him as though it meant to scatter him across this strange void. "Raaaaaagh!" He snarled, but his voice vanished into the endless maw around him, lost in the terrible, roaring silence. His thoughts began to blur, slipping, sliding¡ªNo! He shook his head furiously, clenching his fists. He wasn''t going to let this damned force swallow him whole. He was Volk, Warchief of his horde, bound for Orzaroth with a purpose. This would not be the end of him! With a savage growl, Volk swung his fist directly at his own jaw. CRACK! The impact echoed inside his head, pain slicing through the fog as his teeth clashed, the sting forcing him back into focus. His jaw throbbed, but he held onto that sharp, biting pain, clenching his fists tighter. Another surge of force tugged at him, yanking harder, trying to drown him in the storm of spinning colors. No¡­! Stay awake! He jabbed his fingers into his arm, digging his nails into the flesh until they nearly pierced skin. The pain seared through him, bringing a brief, blessed clarity. But then, like a wave rising from the deep, the pull intensified again, stronger than ever. His head swam, his vision blurring as if he were looking at the world through fractured glass. With a wild, desperate snarl, Volk punched himself square in the chest, BOOM! His ribs jolted with the impact, and his heart skipped a beat, but it was enough to sharpen his mind for another agonizing moment. "Come on, you bloody brute, stay awake!" he grunted, fighting the weight that pulled at his limbs. Another heaving yank twisted his body, and he felt his senses slipping again, like trying to grab smoke with bare hands. BITE! He clenched down hard on his tongue, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth. The pain lashed through him, fiery and raw, forcing his eyes open against the dizzying vortex of light. He could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribs, faster, harder, each thud a fight against the pull threatening to consume him. "Hrrrrgh!" He hammered his fists into his own shoulders, each blow sending bolts of pain through his body as he battled to keep his senses intact. However, the force¡ªoh, that relentless, merciless force¡ªwas like a monstrous hand, reaching deeper with each tug, prying apart his thoughts, scattering his focus into the maelstrom. The grip tightened, and his body felt heavy, his arms like weights. But Volk wasn''t finished yet. His mind was screaming, his instincts roaring, "Do whatever it takes, Volk, don''t let it win!" He clawed his face, scratching along his cheek, the sharp sting lancing through the haze. He forced his eyes to stay open, even as they felt like they were going to pop out of his skull. His breaths came in short, choked gasps as he fought to keep from slipping into the void, every second another battle, another desperate attempt to stay conscious. The pull grew stronger, dragging him down, faster and faster. His limbs felt like lead, his breaths shallow, each one a struggle. His mind blurred, consciousness slipping further and further from his grasp, a faint sliver of light in the growing darkness. His hand jerked up to strike himself again, but the energy wasn''t there. No...! Not yet! With one last, exhausted effort, Volk tried to clench his fists, but his fingers twitched uselessly, his strength drained, his mind a fog. The tugging force finally tore through him, relentless, devouring. His vision darkened, a cold numbness swallowing him. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, his mind drifting, his thoughts fading like whispers in the night. ¡­ Beneath the thick canopy of towering trees, two women ran frantically, their feet bare, skimming across the moss-covered forest floor. The moonlight filtered in patches through the leaves, casting an eerie glow on their deep brown skin, slick with sweat and dirt, blending almost seamlessly into the shadows. Their expressions were painted with pure terror, breaths coming in short, panicked bursts as they glanced over their shoulders, eyes wide with dread. The taller of the two, her long, dark hair tangled and wild, looked at her companion with frantic eyes. "D-Do you think we can hide up ahead?" she whispered, her voice trembling as her gaze darted through the dense trees. The other woman, shorter but muscular with sharp, fierce eyes, shook her head. "I... I don''t know!" she replied, her voice barely a whisper, though every syllable seemed to echo in the dense silence. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure it would give them away. She could feel the eyes of the forest on her, every shadow twisted into a lurking figure. "We need to be smarter," the taller woman murmured, gripping her friend''s arm, a trace of desperation in her touch. "Maybe if we split up, he won''t be able to follow both of us!" But even as she spoke, her voice faltered, uncertainty clouding her expression. "No, we can''t!" the shorter one hissed back, her dark eyes flicking around wildly. "We''ll be weaker alone. And you''ve seen what he does to those he finds alone¡­" She trailed off, and the horror in her eyes told a story of its own. "But where do we go?" the first woman whispered, swallowing hard, her hands shaking as she wrung them together. Her gaze shifted to the left, then the right, searching desperately for a way out. "If we keep running, we''ll exhaust ourselves before he even catches up." The second woman sucked in a deep breath, glancing up at the trees around them. "Maybe... maybe we can climb, find a spot up high?" She looked up into the dense tangle of branches overhead. "If we''re high enough, maybe he won''t see us. We just have to be quiet." "No," the taller woman shook her head. "He has those dogs¡ªthey''d sniff us out, and there''s nowhere to go if he catches us up there!" Her face twisted in frustration, torn between choices, every option leading them to possible doom. "Why can''t we think of anything? We''re trapped, aren''t we?" As if on cue, a low, guttural sound echoed through the forest¡ªthe unmistakable, menacing bark of a hunting hound. Both women froze, eyes widening as they stared into the shadows from where they''d come. Another bark, closer this time, followed by a snarl that sent shivers down their spines. They exchanged a glance, terror mirrored in each other''s gaze. "I told you," the shorter woman mouthed, hardly able to breathe. "They''ll find us no matter where we go. We can''t¡­ we can''t outrun him." "Shh," the taller one whispered, clutching her friend''s arm. "Maybe¡­ maybe if we''re quiet, they''ll pass us by. Just stay still." But as the two crouched low, every muscle tensed, a figure emerged from the shadows, the silhouette of a man trailing behind a small pack of massive, hulking hounds. His voice slithered through the darkness, cold and dripping with amusement. "Where are you¡­?" he called, his tone deceptively sweet, mocking, each word laced with cruelty. The two women pressed themselves tighter into the shadows, but it was futile. The man''s dark figure loomed just beyond the trees, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning the area with an eerie calm. His dogs began to sniff at the ground, inching closer to the spot where the women had just stood moments before. They were huge, with jaws powerful enough to snap bones, eyes glowing faintly in the dim moonlight as they caught their quarry''s scent. "Ahh, there you are¡­" the man murmured, his voice almost a whisper, yet somehow carrying with a weight that chilled them to the bone. He chuckled, the sound low and mocking, savoring the chase like a twisted game. The shorter woman clutched her friend''s hand, eyes wide as she whispered, "He''s going to find us. Any second now, he''ll¡­ he''ll¡ª" Her words were cut off as one of the hounds raised its head, ears perked, its nose twitching as it caught their trail. It let out a low growl, beginning to edge toward them, lips curled back to reveal rows of sharp, lethal teeth. The taller woman squeezed her friend''s hand, heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst. "Run, just run!" she mouthed, barely breathing as she felt the oppressive presence of the hunter creeping closer. The shadows seemed to close in, and there was nowhere left to go, nowhere to hide. But just as the dogs were about to find them, a strange light appeared in the sky, flickering faintly before bursting into a fiery streak. It was a meteor, blazing through the night like a beacon from another world, growing larger and brighter as it descended. The hounds halted, their gaze lifting to the sky, ears pricked in confused alertness. The man''s mocking smile faltered as he, too, looked up. His eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his face as he watched the meteor hurtle toward them, its descent rapid, trailing fire and smoke. The women clung to each other, momentarily forgotten in the spectacle. Boom! With an earth-shaking crash, the meteor slammed into the ground nearby, sending a wave of heat and debris through the air. The shockwave hit the man and his hounds, knocking them back, scattering them like leaves in a storm. The two women shielded themselves, eyes wide with shock, barely able to comprehend the miraculous intervention that had saved them. As the dust began to settle, the forest fell silent once more, save for the faint crackle of embers where the meteor had impacted. The two women, still trembling, watched as their pursuer scrambled to his feet, disoriented and enraged, a mixture of shock and fury on his face as he realized that his prey had just slipped from his grasp¡­ for now. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 204 - 204: Brute As the dust finally settled, a hush fell over the forest, deep and still, as if holding its breath. The two women, still trembling, gazed ahead, eyes wide and unblinking. There, looming from the crater, was a massive figure, unlike anything they had ever seen. The creature''s skin was a rugged, deep green, muscles bulging and rippling beneath his flesh like corded steel. He towered above them, each limb thick and powerful, his chest bare but for the scars criss crossing his torso, marking countless battles. His face was fierce and angular, with a broad nose and tusks jutting from his lower jaw, teeth glinting like ivory under the pale light. Dark, fiery eyes smoldered beneath his thick brow, gazing down at them with an intensity that made their blood run cold. Frozen in place, the women could only stare, breaths shallow, chests heaving. The figure''s presence alone felt like an unspoken threat, the sheer weight of it pressing down on them as they remained still, hearts pounding in their chests like a war drum. Every instinct screamed at them to run, yet they couldn''t tear their eyes away. A snap from behind them broke their trance. Turning, they spotted the man with long blonde curls, his face contorted in a fury so sharp it seemed to burn. His hounds, large and menacing, stood by his side, each beast with hackles raised, lips curled back to expose glistening fangs, as though they could sense their master''s rage. His eyes darted between the crater and the two women, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Who the hell interrupted my Servus and Sarvas hunt?" he spat, his voice a low, venomous snarl that cut through the still air. The hounds barked and snarled with each curse word, fangs gleaming as they mirrored his anger. "Who dares interfere with my domain? This forest is mine!" The man took a step forward, his face contorted with fury, but then he stopped. His sneer faded as his gaze lifted to the crater, where the enormous figure had fully emerged, shadowing them all. The blonde''s expression shifted, eyes widening, mouth dropping open, the sheer shock freezing him in place. "Kabam¡­!" he muttered, the word escaping his lips in a whisper of disbelief. "What the¡­? An Orc?" The surprise turned quickly to horror, and his voice rose, laced with genuine panic. "What is an Orc doing here, in the Foramina Kingdom? Aren''t they supposed to be in the Canyon of Blood and Valley of Orcs?" His voice trembled, his mind struggling to grasp the situation, to make sense of this impossible sight. The massive Orc looked down at him, barely acknowledging his confusion with a disdainful snort. Every muscle in the Orc''s frame was taut, coiled as if ready to unleash fury with the slightest provocation. It was clear he was no ordinary creature; he radiated a primal force, as if he were a living weapon forged in the heart of battle itself. His mere presence seemed to bend the very air around him, thickening it, as if the forest itself was bowing to his might. The blonde''s shock morphed into something darker, a flicker of madness sparking in his gaze. His lips twisted into a savage grin, and he straightened, eyes gleaming with a deadly resolve. "There''s an Orc here," he muttered, the words filled with a quiet, almost reverent fury. The tone in his voice shifted, deepening, each word dripping with the promise of violence. "Servus¡­ Sarvas¡­" he said, rolling the names of his hounds with a low growl, his hand gesturing toward the towering figure. "Prepare yourselves. We''re going to fight." The hounds snapped to attention, their fierce barks echoing through the forest, each of them lowering into a predatory stance. The two women, watching this deadly escalation, felt terror creep through their veins like ice, knowing they were about to witness a battle between creatures they couldn''t hope to understand. ¡­ With a cruel smirk, the blonde man raised his hand, commanding his hounds. "Servus! Sarvas! Make him regret ever stepping into my forest." The two massive hounds shot forward, muscles rippling beneath their shaggy fur, fangs bared like glistening daggers. The air buzzed with the power of their vicious intent, and their heavy paws thundered against the ground, sending shivers up through the earth as they closed in on the massive Orc. Each leap they took was accompanied by a ferocious growl, their eyes burning with unrestrained bloodlust. They closed the distance within seconds, lunging for his back, aiming for any exposed skin, eager to sink their fangs into their prey. Servus leapt first, jaws snapping down like a bear trap onto the Orc''s shoulder. Sarvas lunged at his legs, aiming to bring the giant down by tearing through his hamstring. Their claws raked across his dense skin, leaving no visible mark, as if they were nothing more than paper scratching against stone. Servus tightened his bite, grinding down harder, trying to tear flesh and muscle. The strength behind his jaws would have crushed a normal man''s bones into dust. But this Orc''s skin was unyielding, a fortress that defied all logic. "Rrrrrrrgh! Grrrawwwr!" The hounds snarled in frustration, bloodthirsty eyes wide with disbelief as their strongest attacks barely even dented the Orc''s skin. They clawed and bit, with more and more force, their barks growing more frantic. Yet, the Orc didn''t even flinch. His focus remained elsewhere, as if these beasts, with their bloodlust and desperation, were mere insects. The blonde man''s grin faltered, his expression shifting from confidence to a twisted sort of confusion. His eyes went wide, and his voice came out in a disbelieving murmur. "What¡­? They aren''t even¡­ not even a scratch?" The hounds'' eyes turned round, comically large with shock, their fierce expressions giving way to a confused, almost innocent surprise. Their fangs, so deadly and sharp, had met nothing but an immovable mountain of flesh. For the first time, the powerful beasts hesitated, glancing back at their master with big, bewildered eyes, whining in confusion. The man clenched his fists, rage bubbling beneath the surface. "How dare he¡­" he hissed, a glint of desperation now edging his gaze. "Fine, if you want to play that way, brute, I''ll show you real power." From the folds of his coat, he retrieved a small, crinkled scroll, tinged with the faint glow of arcane runes. He handled it carefully, muttering to himself, "This scroll¡­ bought it for a fortune. Tier five wizard''s magic sealed in here¡­ I''m that a low level brute creature like this Ogre would stand no chance!" His voice trembled slightly, as if even he was a little awestruck by the raw power it held. Unfurling the scroll, he began to chant in a low, sonorous tone, each word carrying a weight that reverberated in the air. The forest around him responded instantly, the very trees bending slightly as if they, too, felt the presence of an ancient magic awakening. The sky darkened, clouds rolling overhead as a powerful force gathered. The air grew thick, charged with the sizzling energy of the spell, and sparks began to leap from the scroll in crackling tendrils of red and gold. The ground beneath them trembled, vibrating with the spell''s intensity as if the earth itself was being torn open. A deep rumble echoed through the forest, sending smaller creatures scurrying for cover as a wild gale whipped through the trees, bending them like reeds. Tendrils of lightning cracked and sizzled around the scroll, striking at random, hissing with raw, arcane fury. In one swift motion, he released the magic, and a blinding column of fire and lightning surged forth, spiraling in on itself like a tornado made of molten energy. It crackled and boomed, shaking the air with an ear-splitting roar. The pillar of magic spiraled up, twisting in an intricate dance, feeding off the raw energy in the air until it was a towering inferno of magical wrath. The magic surged toward the Orc, smashing down with the force of an avalanche, aiming to obliterate everything in its path. KABAM! The explosion rocked the forest, sending waves of energy rippling outward. The impact cratered the ground, leaving a smoking, smoldering circle where the Orc stood. Smoke billowed from the center of the blast, and the blonde man squinted through the haze, eagerly awaiting the sight of his fallen foe. But as the smoke cleared, a deep and heavy silence fell over them. The blonde man''s confident smirk faded, replaced with a horrified stare. His hounds'' ears drooped, their eyes wide with utter disbelief. There, standing in the middle of the blast zone, was the Orc-completely unharmed. Not a scratch marred his skin. He stood still, shoulders relaxed, as if nothing of note had occurred. Slowly, he turned his head, dark eyes narrowing with an irritated glint as he looked over his shoulder. His heavy brow furrowed, his gaze boring into them with a simmering anger, as though they were nothing more than a minor nuisance. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Hmmm?" Chapter 205 - 205: Updates As Volk stood amidst the smoldering clearing, smoke swirling around him like dark banners, a faint glimmer caught his attention. Squinting, he saw what appeared to be a transparent interface, flashing several lines of text across his vision. He blinked, unsure at first, but then his eyes widened as the message revealed itself. DING! | System Update Acquired! | Words scrolled across his vision, the strange glow illuminating them in the dim forest. Update: | ''Radioactive Horde Command'' now available! | Note: Command function unavailable. User does not currently have an assembled horde. | A faint frown tugged at Volk''s mouth. He flexed his fingers, itching with anticipation. This feature had potential¡ªunimaginable potential. But without a horde to command, he couldn''t unleash its full power. He grumbled, disappointed yet intrigued. New Feature: ''All-Seeing Eyes'' Activated! Grants the ability to reveal basic information about any life form within sight. Now that was useful. With a subtle focus, he let his gaze shift toward the two trembling figures in front of him. As if on command, words began materializing in the air before him. --- Target: Name: Lira Kesh Age: 24 Gender: Female. Race: Human Ethnicity: Barbarian Background: Tribal Nomad from Southern Orzaroth Strength Level: Average Agility Level: Above Average Fear Level: High Target: Name: Mareen Suul Age: 26 Gender: Female. Race: Human S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Ethnicity: Barbarian Background: Hunter from Southern Orzaroth Strength Level: Below Average Agility Level: Average Fear Level: Extreme --- Volk felt a thrill of satisfaction pulse through him. He''d always hated guessing the strengths and intentions of potential enemies¡ªor allies. Now, he could see through them with just a look. This "All-Seeing Eyes" feature was a game-changer. The two women stood there, their wide, fearful eyes fixed on him. Lira''s lips trembled, and Mareen looked as though she might bolt if her legs hadn''t frozen in place. He could practically feel the terror radiating from them, their breaths coming fast and shallow. He let out a low growl, half from irritation at being watched and half from amusement at their shock. His eyes continued scanning the system updates as if savoring each line, and he smirked when he reached the next one. Ding! | New Feature: ''Radioactive Signal'' | Enabled! Note: Signal tracking feature unavailable. Map data required. | The words flickered ominously, but Volk understood. This "Radioactive Signal" might let him locate other significant creatures or dangers around him¡ªif he had the right equipment to map it. He clenched his fist, feeling a surge of excitement mingling with frustration. The system was evolving with him, granting him new tools with every battle, every enemy defeated. It was far from perfect, but it was something he could work with. The thought was interrupted by a loud BANG! against his back. A solid force slammed into him, just hard enough to make him grunt. The sting was minimal, but it was enough to make his brow furrow with irritation. He clenched his jaw, taking a deep, rumbling breath. Slowly, Volk turned, muscles coiled and ready. And there, standing a few feet away, were the culprits: two hounds with wild eyes and teeth bared, their snarls sharp enough to slice the air itself. The hounds backed up, surprised and trembling. But standing behind them, smugly satisfied, was a man who could only be described as absurdly flamboyant. He was tall, with a shock of blond curls that fell over his shoulders in waves, and a well-trimmed beard that framed his sneering mouth. His clothing was elaborate, a royal blue coat with embroidered golden patterns, a ruffled white shirt, and several rings that glittered on his fingers. The blonde man''s eyes widened, and his face twisted with shock and anger. He sneered, spitting out his words. "Who dares to interrupt my hunt for my Servus and Sarvas? Do you even know who I am, you filthy brute?" The hounds barked as if echoing their master''s curses, lunging forward with snapping jaws, each snarl laced with bitter rage. Volk took a step forward, his massive form looming over them. His brows lowered, and he fixed the man with an unamused glare, his voice low and gruff, "Hmmm?" The blonde man''s expression faltered for just a second, a glimmer of fear flashing behind his feigned arrogance. His voice dripped with contempt, but Volk could see the subtle tremor in his grip, the way his fingers danced nervously over his ornate rings. "You¡­ filth!" the blonde spat, trying to hold onto his dignity. "You have no idea who you''re dealing with, do you?" He hesitated, his eyes darting to Volk''s towering form, those deep-set eyes glowing with barely restrained menace. In a flash of insight, the blonde realized he wasn''t going to win this. This was no ordinary beast. The creature before him was formidable, and possibly one of those elite warriors rumored to lurk in the Canyon of Orcs or the Valley of Orcs. His mind raced. He needed an out, and fast. Grumbling, he reached into his pocket, his hand closing over a smooth scroll tucked within the folds of his robe. "I never thought I''d need to use this," he muttered under his breath, his tone a mixture of frustration and resignation. With a flourish, he yanked the scroll free and held it high, its edges rimmed in a faint golden light. The air around it seemed to warp, as if even the elements feared what was coming. Volk''s eyes narrowed as the blonde whispered a string of incantations in a language that sounded like the hiss of molten metal, each word intensifying the light. Then it began. The scroll lifted from the man''s hand, hovering in the air as if held by invisible threads. It trembled, shaking violently before splitting open with a soft crack! The edges unraveled, and bright, cascading streams of light poured forth from its surface, streaking the sky like molten stars. First, a single band of light swirled around the man, then another, and another. Threads of blinding brilliance weaved into each other, twisting and merging, forming a radiant cocoon that pulsed and expanded. Each pulse sent waves of energy rippling through the forest, the trees shuddering under its might, leaves trembling and lifting off their branches, caught in the violent vortex. The light exploded outward, flooding the forest in an ethereal, almost blinding glow. Colors shifted, refracting through the air in a kaleidoscope of reds, blues, and greens. It painted the trunks of trees and the ground below in surreal hues, illuminating every stone and shadow. Faint symbols glowed within the streams, flickering in and out of existence, runes from some forgotten ancient language that pulsed with raw power. The entire forest seemed to hum in response, a low, otherworldly sound that made Volk''s bones vibrate. The light twisted, then folded in on itself with a flash so bright it could have been mistaken for a star going supernova. And then, in an instant, it collapsed inward, forming a point of condensed light. With a crackling pop! the blonde man disappeared, the light dissipating in a cascade of falling embers, scattering like fireflies as the night reclaimed the forest. Volk blinked, stunned. "Huh?" He stared at the spot where the blonde man had just been. The faint smell of scorched air hung around him, and the embers slowly faded, leaving the world silent once more. Suddenly, a screen materialized before Volk''s eyes, his system''s familiar, mechanical voice chiming with a ding. DING! | Mission: Catch the Blonde Man before he could reach the Baron Mansion. | Reward: Radioactive Magic Gauntlet | Failure Penalty: All-Seeing Eyes Deactivated | Volk''s brows furrowed as he scanned the details, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. It wasn''t the threat of losing his newly acquired All-Seeing Eyes or even the allure of the Radioactive Magic Gauntlet that struck him the most. It was the fact that he had been given a mission here, in this unknown realm. A challenge from his system, issued directly to him, targeting that insolent blonde. He understood the implications. His system didn''t waste its energy; it only guided him when there was something vital, something important at stake. If it wanted him to catch this man, it wasn''t just about the gauntlet. There was something deeper, some hidden advantage waiting if he succeeded. A grin spread across Volk''s face, wild and fierce, his sharp teeth glinting in the faint moonlight. His heart began to beat faster, the thrill of the hunt electrifying his veins. The ground beneath him seemed to hum with his excitement, as if the earth itself was trembling in anticipation of what he would do next. "All right!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the trees around him as his fist clenched with renewed determination. Chapter 206 - 206: Just give me the way! As Volk steadied himself, brushing the last bits of fading light from his vision, a realization hit him. The blonde man was gone. Really gone. And not just a regular disappearance. The sensation he felt ¡ª the disorientation, the intense light ¡ª it all pointed to teleportation. Volk frowned, scratching his chin. How was he supposed to hunt down a man who could just blink out of existence like that? His jaw clenched in frustration, his eyes narrowing as he replayed the scene in his mind. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His system didn''t give impossible missions ¡ª that much he knew. There had to be a way to track that arrogant little prick, but how? Then, as if reading his thoughts, a new screen flickered to life in front of him, its blue hue casting a soft glow on his face: DING! | Host has unlocked a new ability: Universal Growing Language. | The description scrolled beneath it, explaining that Volk could now use two additional universal languages ¡ª not just with creatures or people but with anything sentient, including rocks, trees, or even the ground itself. His brows raised, momentarily impressed. But then he huffed, dismissing the notion of talking to dirt and rocks. No, he had a better idea. He turned his gaze toward the two women standing just a few paces away. The system hadn''t only unlocked the language ability; it had helpfully highlighted their names in faint green above their heads: Lira and Mareen. Both were shaking visibly, their faces pale, their breaths shallow as they watched the giant, muscular Orc who had just withstood both hounds and powerful magic. Another notification blinked. DING! | Would Host like to activate Universal Growing Language with the two nearby targets? | Volk grunted in affirmation, nodding toward the screen. The system shimmered briefly, and then, as if a switch had been flipped, a strange warmth settled in his mind. It felt like he''d unlocked a new gear in his head, and suddenly, the speech of the two women became clearer, less garbled. At first, the two stood frozen, rooted in fear, eyes wide as they took in the enormity of him. Lira, a short but well-built woman with brown skin and dark braids that fell down her back, was the first to try speaking, but her words came out as a whisper, barely audible. "Y-you¡­ You''re not¡­ like the others¡­" she stammered, clutching a stone necklace hanging around her neck. Her eyes darted to Mareen, who looked equally petrified, her knuckles white as she gripped a wooden staff decorated with carved symbols. Volk raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he waited, his expression half-curious, half-annoyed. "Well?" he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "You got something to say? Spit it out." Mareen tried to straighten up, swallowing hard. Her voice came out shaky, but there was a hint of defiance in her eyes. "W-we¡­ w-we¡­ don''t¡­ don''t know anything about¡­ about you. But¡­ but we know him. The man you faced." She looked away, but her eyes were drawn back to his towering figure, and she winced slightly. "He''s¡­ he''s¡­ a¡­ a noble." Volk tilted his head, leaning down a bit so that he could hear them better, his gaze fixed on them intently. They flinched as he moved closer, their breaths hitching as they took in his massive frame, his skin a deep, mottled green that seemed to ripple with muscle beneath. His arms were thicker than their waists, covered in faint scars, and his tusks gleamed dangerously as he grinned. "Start from the beginning," he demanded, his voice softer but no less intimidating. "And don''t leave out any details." Lira bit her lip, glancing at Mareen, who gave a reluctant nod. The two women seemed to gather their courage, their eyes darting between each other and Volk. Finally, Lira took a shaky breath, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "He¡­ he''s one of the Servithian nobility," she managed, her eyes widening as Volk''s expression darkened. "They¡­ they live in the Foramina Kingdom, far east from here¡­ beyond the cliffs." Her hands trembled as she spoke, clutching her necklace as though it might shield her. "People say they¡­ they don''t have mercy¡­ that they hunt for sport. Like he was¡­ like he was doing with us." Volk''s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed her words. The Servithian nobility¡­ That explained the arrogance, the cruelty. But it didn''t answer the most pressing question. "Which direction?" he growled, his gaze sharp. The two women exchanged a nervous glance, hesitating. Mareen looked down, biting her lip as though weighing whether or not to answer. Then, with a deep breath, she lifted her gaze to meet his. "He¡­ he''ll be heading back to the Foramina Kingdom," she murmured, her voice steadying slightly. "But there are¡­ There are dangers along the way. The Servithians don''t travel alone. They''ll have¡­ creatures with them¡­ monsters." "Monsters?" Volk''s eyes gleamed with interest, his lip curling into a grin. "What kind?" Lira and Mareen exchanged a fearful look, but Volk''s gaze was relentless, pinning them down, demanding answers. "The worst kind," Mareen whispered, her voice barely audible. "Flesh-eaters¡­ shadowbeasts¡­ creatures that don''t die easily." She shuddered, her eyes distant as though haunted by memories. "They¡­ they come out at night, hunting anything that dares to cross into their lands. And they serve the Servithians." Volk grunted, his expression a mix of intrigue and annoyance. He''d hoped for more precise directions, but at least they can communicate with him now. Volk''s patience was wearing dangerously thin, his brow furrowed, and his massive hands clenched in frustration. He''d been trying to get these two to give him a straight answer, but they seemed more interested in dodging his questions than actually helping him. With a sharp intake of breath, he clapped his hands, the sound echoing through the dense forest like thunder. The two women jolted, snapping out of their whispered conversation, eyes wide as they looked up at him, trembling like leaves in a storm. Volk leaned forward, looming over them like a dark mountain, his gaze fixed and intense. "I don''t need stories. I need one thing. Which. Direction," he demanded, enunciating each word with growing impatience. "Point. Your. Hands. And be done with it." Lira and Mareen exchanged glances, their expressions darting between fear and hesitation. Mareen opened her mouth as if to speak, but her voice faltered, and she only stammered out a few uncertain words. "W-we¡­ it''s¡­ well¡­ I mean, it''s not so simple¡­" Lira chimed in, nodding as though her life depended on it. "Y-yes, you see, Foramina is¡­ it''s beyond several ridges, and¡­ well, there are landmarks, but they''re tricky to follow if¡­ if you''ve never traveled that way before. Some¡­ some say there are places that move. Like, when you go back¡­ things have shifted¡­ " Mareen jumped in, her voice wavering but somehow finding more confidence in the stall tactic. "Yes! And the Servithian guards, they¡­ they set traps. Traps we don''t even know how to avoid ourselves. We barely escaped when we did¡­ and that was only because they didn''t think we were worth the trouble of chasing¡­" Volk''s eye twitched, and he resisted the urge to growl. "I don''t need to know about shifting trees or guards or traps. Just. Give. Me. A direction." Chapter 207 - 207: Hounds The two women glanced at each other again, clearly buying time, though their voices took on an increasingly rambling quality, words tumbling out faster than their thoughts seemed to form. "Well, you see," Lira said, clasping her hands together nervously. "It''s actually kind of¡­ well, confusing. There''s the west path, which leads around the cliffs, but¡­ um, the western cliff can sometimes look like the northern one, especially when the mist rolls in. And if you don''t go exactly as the shadows fall¡­ well, you could end up doubling back¡­" "Yes! And there''s that forest where the howling winds come from," Mareen added, nodding rapidly. "It messes with your sense of direction. One moment you think you''re going south, then you''re somehow¡­ walking east! People have been known to get lost for days, and by the time they make it out, they''re nowhere close to where they started." Volk''s patience was wearing thinner with every word they spoke. His massive fingers curled into fists, and he planted his feet firmly on the ground. His gaze darkened, his lips pressed into a line, and a low growl escaped his throat. He leaned closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "I don''t care about wind tricks or shadow cliffs. I need you to show me the way. Just one point. One direction. Now." But the two women, perhaps sensing his growing irritation, exchanged yet another wary glance, their nervousness clearly reaching new heights. Mareen swallowed hard and continued, almost as if talking about their endless misdirections was the only thing keeping them safe from his wrath. "But¡­ but¡­ it''s not just about direction!" she stammered, clutching her necklace again as if it were a protective charm. "Once you get past the ridges¡­ there''s this river. It''s shallow enough to cross but¡­ but only in certain places! And¡­ and the water''s strange, sometimes. People say it carries¡­ curses. "It''s why the Servithians use it as a natural barrier. We''ve only ever heard rumors about where to cross safely¡­" "And then there are the stone pillars," Lira added, nodding fervently. "They''re ancient, from some forgotten era, and they hum with¡­ energy. We''ve heard if you pass by them without knowing the right chant, they¡ª" Volk''s patience snapped. He stomped his foot on the ground with enough force to shake the nearby trees, and the two women yelped, stumbling back, eyes wide with terror. "Enough!" he barked, his voice a rumbling thunder. "I get it. You''re afraid. And I understand. But I''m not here to hurt you. I just need one direction. Just point. And everything will be fine." The two women flinched but held each other''s gaze, their expressions caught somewhere between reluctant trust and deep-seated fear. Lira''s hand trembled as she raised it, her index finger wavering as she pointed, hesitating as though the motion itself might bind her to a dire fate. Mareen looked at her, clutching her arm tightly, and the two seemed to be silently weighing their options once more, almost as if even now they feared they might give him the wrong answer. A pause hung in the air, and finally, as Volk''s glare turned sharper than a honed blade, Mareen''s eyes filled with panic. She shouted, almost as if in desperation, "We¡­ we don''t know! We really don''t! We''ve never traveled that far ourselves! We only know the rumors. "We were just trying to escape the huntsmen ¡ª we never paid attention to how to reach the Foramina Kingdom. We have no idea!" Tears streamed down the faces of Lira and Mareen, each drop glistening under the dappled light that broke through the forest canopy. Their voices quivered as they sobbed, words spilling over one another in desperation. "We''re¡­ we''re just slaves," Mareen stammered, her fingers twisting the fabric of her tattered tunic. "They took us from our tribes¡­ from our brothers¡­ from sisters¡­ mothers and fathers¡­ our families¡­" Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Lira nodded rapidly, her own voice choked with fear. "We don''t know anything about Foramina, or the paths. We''ve only ever been brought to the outskirts to hunt¡­ to fetch¡­ We''re just... tools for their hunger games, nothing more, nothing less." Their words came out in a feverish rush, tangling over each other as if they feared every breath might be their last. The forest around them seemed to echo their panic, amplifying their helplessness. Volk''s fingers tightened around the haft of his axe as his patience dissolved into a seething irritation. "So¡­ all of this," he growled, his eyes narrowing into an icy glare, "all this time I wasted¡­ for nothing? You said all that stuff for nothing?" Lira and Mareen recoiled, clutching each other tightly. "Please spare us, we just want to live¡­ we don''t want to die¡­" They looked at him with wild eyes, shaking their heads as if somehow, through sheer denial, they might alter the outcome. But the fire of his rage burned hotter. "All because you couldn''t say you didn''t know?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, a low and terrifying promise. "Fine then. If you wasted my time," Volk lifted his massive axe, the blade glinting in the light, "I''ll make sure you won''t waste anyone else''s." He tilted the blade toward them, its weight gleaming with a predatory intent. "Don''t worry. You won''t feel a thing." Just as he readied his swing, a sudden, mournful bark shattered the tense silence. Then another whimper, pitiful and lonely, broke through the clearing. It was followed by a low, sorrowful howl, echoing with the unmistakable sound of abandonment. Volk froze, his brow furrowing. The sound was¡­ familiar. His gaze turned away from the trembling women, his mind racing. The hounds. The blonde man''s hounds. He recalled their fierce snarls and loyalty to their master, but the pitiful sounds he now heard were the cries of animals left behind, abandoned in confusion. It struck him with a strange clarity. The blonde man had fled, leaving his own hounds behind. If the beasts were still around, maybe they had a trail. Perhaps they could lead him back to their master, and he''d finally find the answer he sought. Volk lowered his axe slowly, his rage transforming into a calculating gleam as he turned his gaze back to Lira and Mareen. "Seems you''re in luck," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice carrying an odd detachment. "You''re free to go." The two women blinked, their terror morphing into disbelief, and then into a tentative hope. They dared not speak, too fearful it might shatter the miracle before them. Volk didn''t bother waiting for them to fully comprehend their escape. He turned on his heel and marched toward the sound of the whimpers, leaving the two stunned women in his wake. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he heard them stumble away, whispering fervent prayers of gratitude. He paid them no more mind. His focus was now on the fading cries of the hounds, the abandoned beasts who could lead him straight to his quarry. With a new way to thread to, Volk marched forward, his steps heavy and deliberate, his senses sharp. He would track that blonde coward, find the answers he needed from the system, and, if the gods favored him, settle whatever unfinished business there is. Chapter 208 - 208: Trailing As Volk continued his march toward the sound of the two whimpering hounds, his focus narrowed on his goal. His mind buzzed with plans, envisioning the chase, the capture, and finally the answers he sought. But then¡ª "Wait!" S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A small voice cut through his concentration. Volk paused, his massive form looming in the dim forest light, and turned his head. There, a few paces behind him, stood the two girls: Lira and Mareen. They had been spared and were now free to run, to disappear into the woods and vanish from his sight forever, yet here they were, watching him with an intensity he hadn''t anticipated. Volk frowned, crossing his arms as he faced them. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone gruff and impatient. "Didn''t I say you''re free to go? So go. This doesn''t concern you." The two women exchanged a quick glance, and then Mareen stepped forward. "We¡­ we know that, but¡­ you¡­ need us." Volk let out an exasperated huff, turning his head to refocus on the hounds. The urge to continue his pursuit tugged at him, an invisible thread pulling him forward. "What for?" he demanded, looking over his shoulder. "I''m not sure if you''ve noticed, but I don''t need help from two clueless runaways." Lira swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "We aren''t¡­ clueless." She cast her eyes down, her words gathering momentum like a stone rolling down a hill. "Look, we don''t know where we are exactly, but we do know who¡­ who abducted us. We lied before, okay? About knowing this place, the paths, everything." She hesitated, then added softly, "We¡­ i don''t know the blonde man either." Volk''s eyes narrowed as he processed this, a flash of irritation prickling his patience. "So, everything you told me before? All lies?" They nodded, shame crossing their faces, though Mareen was quick to clarify, "We¡­ We were scared! And if you knew we were useless¡­ you might have killed us." Volk let out a low growl, his irritation rising. "That''s it? So you wasted my time. And now you''re wasting more of it." He turned to follow the hounds once more, grumbling under his breath, but he''d only taken a single step before Mareen''s voice cut in again. "You''re going to follow those hounds now, aren''t you?" Volk paused, casting a baleful glare over his shoulder. "Obviously." Lira''s lips twitched, trying to suppress a nervous smile. "Well¡­ that''s¡­ actually kind of smart." Volk''s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What''s your point?" "The hounds," Mareen explained, her words stumbling over themselves in her haste, "They''ll lead you somewhere, yes, but what if it''s a place of danger? Or a trap? Or a place where you won''t be able to catch the blonde man. They could turn on you the second they find their master, and without knowing anything about this land¡ª" Volk waved her off, his patience visibly wearing thin. "I don''t need help to deal with a couple of dogs. And why should I believe you?" Mareen stepped forward, holding her hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Let me tell you something about me," she said, her voice trembling but determined. "I¡­ I''m a hunger¡ªa hunter and tracker, trained since childhood to find trails, spot signs, sense creatures before they sense me. It''s in my blood, in my bones. In the mountains where I was born, my people taught me to read the earth like words on a page. "The way moss grows, the curve of a footprint, a broken twig¡ªthey all speak to me. And in these lands, new though they are to me, I¡­ I feel the signs, I see them in a way you might not." Volk regarded her silently, his gaze unreadable. "Why does that matter to me?" "Because," she pressed, "I can help you catch him. I can read the movements of those hounds, the forest around us. I know enough to give you a better chance of success." Volk let out a heavy, exasperated breath. "And if you''re lying to me again?" Lira and Mareen exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them before Lira spoke up, her voice steadier now. "Then¡­ kill us. Right here. We won''t stop you. All we want is to catch that man, get a map, and be on our way." Volk considered them for a long moment, his expression darkening as he weighed his options. Then, with a sharp nod, he stepped closer to them, towering over their slight forms as he grabbed them each by the back of their tunics and hoisted them up effortlessly. "If you lie to me again," he rumbled, his voice low and dangerous, "you''ll pay a steep price." They both nodded fervently, the fear in their eyes unmistakable, but so was the spark of determination. Without another word, Volk adjusted his grip, securing them under his arms as he surged forward, the wind rushing past them in a blur of motion. With the hounds'' scent and two allies¡ªor liabilities, only time would tell¡ªat his side, Volk charged forward, his path clear, his intent sharper than ever. ¡­ The forest stretched on endlessly, dense and wild, swallowing every sound beneath its towering trees. A tangled mass of ancient trunks and sprawling branches formed a canopy so thick that sunlight barely managed to pierce through. What few rays made it down to the forest floor dappled the landscape in patches of muted green and warm amber. It was a place of deep shadows, where unseen things seemed to skitter away, half-glimpsed at the edges of vision. Each step Volk took was heavy and sure, shaking loose the damp, earthy smell of moss, bark, and fallen leaves that had long settled. The air was thick with the murmur of life¡ªsmall creatures scurrying underfoot, insects buzzing through shafts of light, and an ever-present whisper of distant rustling that hinted at creatures lurking just out of sight. Around him, the undergrowth tangled in wild knots. Brambles caught at his legs, vines hung like claws, and roots jutted out from the ground, eager to trip the unwary. Even Volk, with his massive strides, had to keep his focus steady. Beside him, Mareen and Lira moved more nimbly, their familiarity with woodland terrain helping them dodge and weave through obstacles that Volk simply barreled through. The forest''s dense, living heartbeat seemed to grow quieter as they progressed, as though the very life of the place was holding its breath, aware of their mission. And then, they came to an open stretch where the ground broke into a series of intersecting trails, each leading off into the forest like a tangled web, splitting and diverging as if the creatures had been running through in a frenzy. Four distinct trails lay before them, winding and crisscrossing, the fresh prints barely visible in the soft, damp earth. Mareen stepped forward, crouching down to inspect them, her gaze sharp and attentive as she reached out, fingers brushing the faint imprints. Volk folded his arms, watching her with a faint frown. "You know which way?" Mareen took a deep breath and leaned closer, her fingers tracing the first trail with a feather-light touch. "This trail," she began, pointing to the one on the far left, "seems fresh¡­ but it''s deceptive. The paw prints are shallow, the stride wide. This is a ''feint,''" she said, glancing up at Volk with a glint of satisfaction. "The hounds here moved fast, but light. See how the claw marks barely disturb the ground? It''s a trick¡ªwhoever sent them wanted anyone following to be fooled into thinking they took this path first. They rushed through here, but they didn''t linger." Volk tilted his head, observing as she continued. She moved to the second trail, her fingers ghosting over the earth as she scrutinized it. "Now, this one here¡­ it''s messier. See these deep impressions?" She pointed to several prints, the soil clearly gouged. "The hounds moved slower here, more deliberately, possibly when they were sniffing around to pick up scents. There''s more weight, and the spacing between the prints shows they were hesitant. "I''d say this trail is where they took a moment to¡­ reconsider, maybe waiting on their handler''s cue. But in the end, they left this one, too." She took a few slow steps to the third trail, where the earth was noticeably more churned up, and let out a soft hum of interest. Her fingers traced the path of each step as if reading a line of text. "Now, this one¡­" Mareen''s eyes lit up, her voice taking on a quiet thrill. "The hounds moved fast here, yes, but there''s something else." She pointed to a series of sharp claw marks, deep enough to have torn small chunks of soil free. "Here, the hounds have committed fully. The steps are balanced and quick, and you can see how they pressed harder here than in the other trails. This is the trail of a creature intent on reaching something. They''re not scouting or testing here¡ªthey''re committed." She straightened up and looked to the final trail, her eyes narrowing as she took it in. "And this fourth trail¡­" Her brows furrowed as she leaned over it, examining the faintest scuff marks. "This one is unusual. It''s like they doubled back here, almost as if trying to cover their tracks. It''s muddied, but only faintly¡ªsee how these prints are overlaid?" She pointed, showing how several paw marks seemed stacked atop each other. "They circled here, either trying to throw off pursuit or waiting. It''s a stalling technique." Finally, she turned back to the third trail, pointing decisively. "This one," she said firmly, "is the real path. The hounds were focused and clear in their purpose when they took this route. If we follow here," she added, her voice growing more assured with each word, "we''ll be on their true trail. The hounds might even lead us to where their handler is going. They can''t hide their intention once they commit like this." Chapter 209 - 209: Loyal Hounds The forest seemed endless, each shadow and twisted tree blending into the next, creating an ever-shifting maze of brambles, vines, and looming branches. As Volk, Mareen, and Lira continued along the tangled paths, the trails they''d been following grew more convoluted, filled with odd twists and crisscrosses that only deepened the sense of confusion. Mareen''s eyes stayed sharp, flicking between the various tracks on the forest floor as if she were reading some hidden language woven into the soil. "See here?" she whispered, crouching low once again and brushing aside a cluster of leaves, revealing a faint, almost invisible set of prints just off to the left. "They tried to mask their tracks with a false lead¡ªanother circle, doubling back." Her voice was laced with focus, and she traced a claw mark half-buried beneath a layer of forest debris. "These hounds... their master is thorough. But he didn''t count on us being just as relentless." Volk grunted in agreement, but a flicker of impatience crossed his face. The more they veered from the original trail, the more distracted he felt. Every twist and diversion made him wonder if they were only wasting time, but Mareen''s careful pace and unerring sense for each faint scuff and paw print reassured him just enough to keep going. Moving forward, they entered a dense section of forest where the light had nearly vanished. The canopy overhead was woven so thick that it choked out any stray sunbeam that dared to intrude. A damp chill hung in the air, the kind that clung to their skin and seemed to slow time. It was here, surrounded by silence so complete it was deafening, that Mareen stopped once more, raising her hand to halt them. She pointed into the distance, past the tangled brush and between two massive, moss-covered oaks. "There," she murmured, her voice barely a breath. Volk squinted, following the line of her outstretched finger. Through the gloom and the twisted branches, he spotted movement in the distance¡ªa pair of dark, sleek shapes prowling low to the ground, gliding through the forest like wraiths. The hounds. Their outlines were just visible in the dim light, their bodies taut and powerful, every muscle coiled like a spring. They moved with predatory grace, sniffing the air with twitching noses, alert but silent. Even from this distance, Volk could see their eyes glinting with an unnatural, eerie light, scanning their surroundings for any sign of an intruder. "They''re on the move again," Mareen whispered, crouching lower behind a thick tree trunk, her gaze unwavering. Lira, beside her, sucked in a sharp breath, clutching a small stone as if it could ward off the very beasts they tracked. "If they catch our scent¡ª" "They won''t," Mareen interjected, her voice calm but edged with quiet authority. "They''re focused on something up ahead. Something they''re bound to return to." She glanced at Volk, a spark of determination in her eyes. "This is our chance." They continued their quiet pursuit, slipping through the underbrush like shadows. Volk moved with surprising stealth for his size, each step barely a whisper against the forest floor. The hounds'' trails grew fresher, their paw prints more defined, as they made their way deeper into the forest. Volk''s eyes narrowed, focused on every twist and turn as Mareen guided them. With each step, she scanned the trail carefully, her fingers brushing against each print left by the hounds, deciphering the direction like it was some unspoken language only she could understand. A thick canopy of branches loomed overhead, casting mottled shadows across their path, while the muted sunlight that trickled through the leaves danced in patches upon the ground. Strange scents filled the air, mingling with the faint, almost musky trail the hounds had left behind, leading them through the winding forest paths with each footfall. Volk grunted, turning to Mareen. "Just keep following them. I need that blonde wretch, not his pets." Mareen nodded, glancing back to Lira, who trailed a bit further behind, her eyes darting nervously from side to side. She clutched her makeshift weapon tightly, ready to defend herself from any sudden threat. The silence was broken only by the occasional snap of a twig underfoot, and the soft rustle of leaves as they pressed on, tracking their prey like hunters on the trail of a beast. After several minutes, they passed through a dense thicket, where branches seemed to claw at them, their sharp ends snagging on clothing and armor alike. Volk brushed off a stubborn vine that had wrapped around his arm, muttering curses under his breath. They emerged on the other side, and there, just ahead, he saw the two hounds again¡ªsleek, dark shadows moving with an unnerving quiet, their noses skimming the ground as they weaved in and out of sight between the trees. The group paused. Volk held up a hand, and they crouched low, watching as the hounds continued their path, seeming oblivious to their presence for now. Volk took a steadying breath, his eyes trained on the hounds. He wasn''t about to let them slip away. "They''ve got a scent," Mareen whispered, her gaze fixed intently on the hounds. "Then we keep close," Volk growled. He leaned forward, eyes locked on his quarry. "But don''t let them see us." With careful steps, they followed, keeping to the shadows as they moved in a wide arc, never getting too close, but never losing sight of their targets. Mareen pointed out small, almost imperceptible indicators along the way¡ªa paw print half-hidden under a leaf, a broken branch, a disturbed patch of earth. It was as if every tiny detail held a message, guiding them forward. The hounds'' path led them through dense brambles and under fallen logs, until they reached a small, clear brook that bubbled quietly through the undergrowth. The hounds paused there, lapping at the water with quick, sharp motions, their dark coats shimmering faintly in the dim light. Volk tensed, watching as they drank, his muscles coiled, ready to spring if the need arose. Just then, one of the hounds lifted its head, its ears pricked forward, nose twitching as it sniffed the air. Volk, Mareen, and Lira froze, pressing themselves flat against the ground, holding their breath as the hound''s gaze swept over their hiding spot. Its eyes gleamed in the shadows, scanning for any movement. After a tense moment, the hound lowered its head, returning to its drink, apparently none the wiser. Mareen let out a silent sigh of relief, casting a wary glance back at Volk, who gave a barely perceptible nod, signaling for them to keep moving. They waited until the hounds finished at the brook and continued down the path, then slowly resumed their pursuit. They followed the hounds through narrow trails and winding paths, ducking under low-hanging branches and squeezing between thick bushes that seemed to claw at them with every step. Mareen kept her eyes fixed ahead, focused entirely on the trail, while Volk''s gaze flicked between their surroundings, ever watchful for any sign that the hounds might have noticed them. But just when they thought they''d mastered the art of silent pursuit, something shifted in the air. One of the hounds halted abruptly, its body tensing as it turned its head, sniffing at the air once more. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk stilled, his eyes narrowing, realizing that the hounds were becoming more alert. He motioned for Mareen and Lira to crouch lower, and they obeyed, their breaths shallow as they waited, hoping the hounds hadn''t detected them. Yet the hounds'' noses twitched, and a low growl escaped their throats, vibrating through the silence of the forest. They turned in unison, their eyes locking directly onto the trio hiding in the brush. Lira let out a quiet gasp, but Volk remained motionless, his gaze locked onto the hounds with grim determination. For a moment, there was a tense standoff¡ªthe hounds staring at them, hackles raised, teeth bared, while Volk, Mareen, and Lira held their ground. But then, to everyone''s shock, one of the hounds snarled and lunged at its companion, clamping its powerful jaws around the other''s neck. The sudden savagery of the attack was horrifying. The two hounds tore into each other with brutal efficiency, snapping and biting, their fangs gleaming in the shadows. Blood spattered the ground as they wrestled, locked in a vicious death grip, their snarls and growls echoing through the forest like the cries of wild beasts. Lira stifled a scream, watching as the two hounds clawed and bit at each other with relentless ferocity, as if compelled by some unseen force. Chapter 210 - 210: Hunters Direction The two hounds descended into a frenzy of violence, their loyalty driving them to self-destruction. It began with a low growl, a rumbling snarl that erupted into a guttural roar. The larger of the two lunged forward with a wet, tearing CHOMP!, its jaws snapping down onto the other''s shoulder. Flesh gave way with a sickening RIP!, spraying blood in an arc that splattered the forest floor in crimson streaks. The smaller hound let out an agonized yelp, its voice high-pitched and broken, before retaliating with a savage bite to the throat. CRUNCH! Bones cracked audibly as its teeth sank deep into the vulnerable flesh. The larger hound shook violently, trying to dislodge its attacker, its claws scrabbling at the ground with a scratching SKRRRKK! It howled in pain but didn''t relent. Instead, it twisted its body with feral strength, tearing itself free with a wet SCHLORP!, leaving a ragged chunk of flesh dangling from the smaller hound''s jaws. Blood gushed from the wound in spurts, steaming as it hit the cold forest air. The smaller hound, emboldened by its strike, lunged again, this time clamping onto the larger one''s ear. With a brutal jerk, it tore the ear clean off with a loud RRRRIIIIPPP!, the sound of cartilage snapping reverberating through the trees. The larger hound howled in fury, its red-stained fangs flashing as it retaliated by lunging forward, teeth sinking into the smaller one''s hind leg. A sickening POP! echoed as the joint dislocated, the limb hanging limp as the larger hound dragged its opponent across the ground, smearing blood and fur in its wake. The smaller hound, now crippled, fought back with a desperate frenzy. It lashed out with its claws, scoring deep gashes across the larger one''s face with a wet SHLICK! One claw caught the larger hound''s eye, and with a nauseating PLUCK!, the orb was torn free, dangling from its socket by a bloodied sinew. The larger hound snarled louder, its fury unchecked despite the mutilation. It slammed its body into the smaller hound, pinning it to the ground with a resounding THUD!. Its jaws closed around the smaller hound''s throat with a deep CRUNCH!, and with a savage jerk, it tore free a chunk of flesh, spraying the surrounding foliage in a dark, arterial spray. The smaller hound gagged and coughed, blood bubbling from its throat as it scrabbled weakly at its attacker. SNAP! SNAP! CHOMP! The larger hound continued its assault, tearing apart its rival piece by piece. It wasn''t just a fight¡ªit was a massacre, a grotesque display of loyalty and savagery. The forest seemed to echo with the sound of tearing flesh, splintering bone, and guttural growls. Far behind, Mareen, Lira, and Volk watched the gruesome spectacle with wide eyes. Mareen clutched Lira''s arm, her voice trembling as she said, "I-I think they''re...killing each other so we can''t follow their trail anymore. Hounds like these¡ªthey''re loyal to the death. They must''ve known we were close and decided to destroy themselves before leading us to their master." Volk''s face twisted in fury, his teeth grinding audibly as he processed Mareen''s words. "Loyalty?" he spat. "They wasted my time with this madness!" Without another word, Volk surged forward, his massive legs propelling him through the forest at breakneck speed. The ground shook under his weight as he ran, every step thundering like a war drum. Branches and vines snapped against his armor with sharp TWANGS!, but he didn''t slow. His focus was singular¡ªthe hounds. By the time Volk reached the mangled bodies, it was too late. Both hounds were motionless, their bodies mutilated and soaked in blood. One had its throat torn open, the other''s skull crushed and leaking brain matter onto the dirt. Their lifeless eyes stared blankly into the canopy above, their final act of defiance complete. Volk roared, the sound echoing through the trees like an earthquake. "DAMN IT!" He slammed his fists into the ground, cracking the earth beneath him. "I needed them!" Mareen and Lira cautiously approached, their steps hesitant as they saw Volk crouched over the corpses, his massive hands trembling with barely-contained rage. Mareen swallowed hard, her voice shaking as she said, "We...we can still figure out where he went. Let me look." Volk''s head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing. "You''d better not waste my time again." Mareen nodded, her fear momentarily overshadowed by determination. She knelt by the corpses, examining the ground and surrounding area with a sharp, calculating gaze. She pointed to faint drag marks leading away from the scene. "The hounds were heading in this direction before they stopped. It''s likely that their master¡ªthe blonde man¡ªisn''t far." Volk rose to his feet, towering over her. "And you''re sure?" Mareen met his gaze, swallowing her fear. "Yes. I''m sure." Volk studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Good." He motioned for them to follow. "Let''s move. Go!" With that, the trio set off once more. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. ¡­ The blonde man appeared in a burst of radiant light, his body spinning uncontrollably for a moment before landing with a heavy THUD! on the damp, mossy ground of the forest. He crumpled into a heap, gasping for air as if he had just been dragged from the depths of a freezing lake. Each breath was a ragged, desperate pull, his chest rising and falling in sharp, erratic motions. He clawed at the ground with trembling fingers, curling his hands into fists as though anchoring himself to the world to steady his frantic mind. "Damn it... damn it all..." he croaked, his voice hoarse and barely audible over the rush of blood pounding in his ears. Beads of sweat formed on his pale skin, dripping down his temples as he tried to force his lungs to obey him. "That... thing¡­ that monster..." The memory of the hulking Orc flashed before his mind''s eye, a towering wall of muscle and rage that seemed impervious to anything. His heart raced at the thought, sending fresh waves of panic through his already taxed body. He clutched his chest, doubling over as another jagged breath escaped his lips. "That wasn''t... normal. That wasn''t normal!" For what felt like an eternity, the blonde man lay there, his breathing shallow and uneven, his golden curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. He tilted his head up slightly, staring at the canopy of trees above, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze. The calm of the forest around him was at odds with the storm raging in his chest. He finally managed to roll onto his back, his breaths becoming slightly steadier. "An Orc... from the Valley of Orcs," he whispered, his voice trembling. "There''s no other explanation. It was... too strong. Too resilient. It wasn''t just a regular brute. No, it must''ve been one of their warriors¡ªor worse, a chieftain." He propped himself up on his elbows, his muscles aching with the effort. "I was lucky to escape. Lucky..." His words trailed off as he stared into the distance, his expression darkening. "But why was it there? That''s not their territory. The Valley of Orcs is leagues away. What could''ve brought one so far?" As he muttered to himself, his mind raced with comparisons, drawing on every scrap of information he''d ever learned about the Valley of Orcs and its denizens. "Their strength... it''s said to be unparalleled. Even among the higher ranks, no human knight has ever bested one in single combat. And their resilience... their skin alone is thick enough to turn aside blades and arrows like rain on stone." He closed his eyes, the image of Volk''s unflinching face seared into his memory. "And that one... it didn''t even notice the Tier Five spell. It was as if¡ªno, it was something else entirely." His breathing finally began to slow, his body sinking deeper into the soft earth beneath him. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts threatening to consume him. "I need to report this... to Father. He''ll know what to do. He must." Chapter 211 - 211: Foreboding feeling Summoning his strength, the blonde man pushed himself to his feet, his legs wobbling like a newborn fawn''s. He placed a hand on a nearby tree for support, his golden curls catching the faint sunlight filtering through the leaves. After steadying himself, he straightened and began brushing off his clothing, his expression tightening into one of resolve. "Father will know," he muttered again, as though repeating it would solidify it as truth. He adjusted his coat, took a deep breath, and started forward, his steps quickening. But after just a few strides, he froze mid-step, his entire body going rigid as his eyes widened in shock. "No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hand instinctively reached for his chest, as if clutching at something that was no longer there. A wave of cold realization washed over him. The connection. The faint thread of magical energy that bound him to his hounds¡ªtheir lifeblood and loyalty intertwined with his own¡ªwas gone. It wasn''t just distant or weak. It was severed. Completely severed. "They''re... dead?" His voice trembled, disbelief thick in every syllable. He took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, no. That can''t be. They... they wouldn''t. They couldn''t. Not both of them." He stumbled against the tree behind him, his mind racing. "What could''ve... No, it doesn''t matter. They were supposed to buy me time. But for the connection to be severed... so quickly..." His eyes darted wildly, as if searching for an answer in the shadows of the trees. The weight of the realization bore down on him, sending a chill through his spine. "That... monster," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It must''ve caught them. And if it caught them..." He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "It''s coming for me." The blonde man reached into his coat with trembling hands, fumbling for the magic teleportation scroll. His breath hitched as he pulled it out, the familiar texture of the enchanted parchment giving him a flicker of hope. "Let me make this work again," he muttered to himself, his voice shaky but determined. "Hmmm." Unrolling the scroll, he focused his energy on the intricate runes etched onto its surface, chanting the activation words under his breath. The air around him began to hum softly, faint sparks of light flickering around the edges of the scroll. But then¡ªFZZZZZT! The hum sputtered out abruptly, leaving only an eerie silence. The scroll disintegrated into ash in his hands, the magical energy dissipating into the air like a dying gasp. "What?!" he screamed, staring at his empty palms in disbelief. "No, no, no!" He clenched his fists, crushing the remaining ashes, and threw them to the ground in frustration. His golden curls fell across his face as he bent over, seething. "Damn it all to the Abyss!" The blonde man paced in frantic circles, muttering to himself. "Why didn''t it work? Did I use too much mana earlier? Was the scroll defective and can only be used once? Damn those merchants and their faulty goods!" His voice rose with each word, his anger bubbling over. But then, just as quickly as his rage flared, he stopped. He took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to calm down. "No... I can''t panic. Not now." He ran a hand through his hair, straightening his posture. "Why am I rushing? That Orc... It can''t possibly find me. Not without the hounds. They''re dead now, so the trail ends with them." Reassuring himself, the blonde man let out a shaky laugh, his body relaxing slightly. He dropped to the ground in a slouch, leaning back against the thick trunk of a tree. The forest floor was damp and cool, a stark contrast to the firestorm of nerves still simmering within him. He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky through the canopy of leaves. "I''m fine. I''m safe." He closed his eyes, letting the stillness of the forest seep into him. "That Orc might be strong, but it''s just a brute. No intelligence. It probably doesn''t even know where to start looking now that the hounds are gone." For a moment, he allowed himself to relax, the tension draining from his limbs. A strange emptiness filled him, though, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Something felt... off. Something was missing. "What is this?" he whispered, clutching his chest as if trying to locate the source of the unease. The absence of his hounds weighed heavily on him, like losing a piece of himself. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Tch, useless sentimentality," he muttered, shaking his head. "They were just tools. Replaceable. Nothing more." Refocusing his thoughts, he sat up straighter, his expression hardening. "No matter. This could still work to my advantage. I''ll return to Father and report everything. That Orc is valuable¡ªfar more than I realized." A sinister smile curled at his lips as the gears in his mind began to turn. "Yes, once we capture it, it''ll make the perfect slave. Enslavement magic can bind even the strongest creatures if done right. And with its power, it''ll be unstoppable under our control." The blonde man''s eyes glinted with a cruel light as he leaned back against the tree, picturing his imagined future. The Orc, bound and shackled, its immense strength turned into a weapon at his family''s command. He could already hear the praise his father would lavish upon him. "Yes," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "We''ll make it kneel." The blonde man leaned back against the tree, his smirk still lingering as he envisioned the glory that awaited him. His thoughts drifted to the Orc, its massive frame bound in chains, kneeling before his father''s court. He could already feel the weight of his father''s approving gaze, the pride in his voice as he praised his cunning. "Yes," he whispered again, almost dreamily. "This will all be worth it. That brute will serve us... and it will serve me." But then, like a creeping shadow, a sensation began to settle over him¡ªa subtle but undeniable feeling of wrongness. It started as a faint prickling at the back of his neck, like the sensation of being watched. He frowned, the smirk fading from his lips as his fingers drummed against his knee. "What is this...?" he muttered, sitting up straight. His golden hair fell into his face as he tilted his head, trying to listen to the forest around him. It was quiet, too quiet. The usual symphony of chirping insects and rustling leaves was absent, replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. The unease deepened, spreading through his chest like a cold fog. He clutched his shirt, his heartbeat quickening. "No, no, I''m overthinking it. The hounds are gone. But I''m sure the Orc can''t track me. I''m safe, like always..." He said the words aloud, as if hearing them would make them true. But the feeling didn''t go away. Instead, it grew stronger, an almost physical weight pressing down on him. His thoughts began to spiral, racing through every detail of his escape. The teleportation spell had worked perfectly; he had landed far enough away. The hounds had sacrificed themselves, ensuring no one could follow their trail. So why did it feel like something was closing in on him? The blonde man stood abruptly, pacing back and forth. His boots crunched against the damp leaves as he muttered to himself, his voice low and frantic. "Think, think! What am I missing? The Orc can''t possibly know where I am. It''s impossible. The hounds took care of that. And yet..." His mind flickered back to the moment the hounds had died. He had felt it¡ªa sudden severing of their connection, as sharp and final as the snap of a thread. Their loyalty had been absolute, their deaths a testament to their devotion. So why did their sacrifice feel... hollow? Chapter 212 - 212: Gauntlet Equipped "No," the blonde man said firmly, shaking his head. "I''m just shaken up. That''s all. That monster caught me off guard, but it''s not invincible. It can''t be. I''m overthinking it." He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. But as he tried to calm his nerves, the feeling of wrongness only intensified. It clawed at the edges of his mind, whispering insidious doubts. His pacing quickened, his movements erratic as he tugged at his hair in frustration. "What is it?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty forest. "What am I missing?" And then it hit him. His eyes widened, the color draining from his face as realization struck. His breath caught in his throat, and his body went rigid. "The slaves..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. The memory came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. The two women, trembling in fear as they cowered before the Orc. Their ragged clothes, their desperate expressions. He had dismissed them as irrelevant, mere background noise in the chaos of his escape. But now, the image of their faces burned in his mind, their wide eyes filled with terror. "No," he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to banish the thought. "It can''t be. They wouldn''t... they couldn''t..." But the doubt was already there, gnawing at him like a relentless parasite. "They were slaves," he reasoned aloud, his voice tinged with desperation. "Barbarians, uneducated, terrified. There''s no way they would have followed me. They''d have run as far away from that Orc as possible. Wouldn''t they?" The silence of the forest offered no reassurance. The blonde man''s pacing resumed, his steps more frantic than before. His mind raced, replaying every detail of the encounter. He remembered how the Orc had spared them, how it had allowed them to leave. Why? Why would a creature of such brute strength and savagery let two helpless slaves go free? Unless... His breath hitched as the pieces began to fall into place. The Orc wasn''t just a mindless beast. It had let the slaves go for a reason. "Damn it!" he hissed, slamming his fist against a tree. The bark splintered under the force of the blow, but he barely felt the pain. "Those wretched women! They must have followed me! That''s the only explanation!" He clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists. "They''re guiding it. Leading it straight to me." Panic surged through him, his earlier confidence crumbling like ash. If the Orc was tracking him, then time was no longer on his side. He needed to act¡ªand fast. The blonde man''s breath hitched, and a cold sweat ran down his back as he saw the shadow loom over him. His body went rigid, his heart hammering like a drum in his chest. No, no, no... His instincts screamed at him to flee, to get as far away as possible. Without daring to turn around, he stepped forward, his trembling legs dragging his body one shaky step at a time. But as he prepared to break into a sprint, something clamped around him¡ªa massive, unyielding force that made him feel like a child caught in the grasp of a giant. "AHHH!" the blonde man screamed, his body hoisted effortlessly off the ground. His feet dangled helplessly, and his stomach dropped as he was spun around to face his captor. His widened eyes met Volk''s, and the sight made his blood run cold. Volk''s massive form loomed over him, the dim light of the forest casting shadows across his hulking frame. His piercing gaze locked onto the blonde man with a mixture of satisfaction and irritation. "Finally," Volk rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, like the growl of an earthquake. The blonde man could only gape, his mind scrambling for a way out of this nightmare. And then it happened. Ding! A translucent notification appeared before Volk''s eyes: | Mission Complete: Capture the Blonde Man. | Reward: Radioactive Magic Gauntlet unlocked. | Failure Penalty: All-Seeing Eyes Deactivated. | Status: SUCCESS. | Volk''s lips twitched into a smirk as he read the notification. The system had delivered its promise. He had his target. The blonde man, however, saw none of this. His panic overwhelmed him, and he did what he did best: talk. "Y-you ogre! Unhand me this instant!" he screeched, his voice cracking as he flailed uselessly in Volk''s iron grip. "Do you have any idea who I am? Do you even know what you''ve done? You''ve just made the worst mistake of your miserable, brutish life!" Volk arched a brow, his grip tightening slightly. "I am Maxillian Geisler, the third son of Baron Geisler! My father is the lord of this region, a man of unparalleled power and influence! "If you lay even a single finger on me¡ªwait, you already did! No, no, it''s fine! Let''s start over! Just put me down and I''ll forget this ever happened! Yes, that''s it!" S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk didn''t move, his expression unreadable. The blonde man¡ªMaxillian¡ªcontinued, his words tumbling out in a frantic stream. "You don''t understand! My father commands armies! Legions of knights! Mages who could incinerate you with a mere thought! If you hurt me, they will come for you! "They will find you, wherever you hide, and they will make you regret the day you dared to cross the Geisler name!" Still, Volk said nothing, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And let''s not forget my brothers!" Maxillian pressed on, his voice rising with desperation. "My eldest brother, Victor, is a master swordsman! He''s defeated dragons, for crying out loud! And my other brother, Julius, is a warlock who has summoned demons to fight at his side! "You''re done for, ogre! Done for, I tell you! But! But! There''s still a chance! If you release me now, I''ll¡ª" Maxillian''s words faltered as he felt something strange. The massive hands holding him¡ªno, the right hand¡ªbegan to change. The rough, calloused skin of Volk''s palm shimmered, an eerie metallic hue spreading across it like liquid metal. "What... what is that?" Maxillian stammered, his eyes fixated on the transformation. Volk glanced at his hand, his expression shifting to curiosity. A green, radioactive glow began to emanate from his palm, spreading up his forearm as the system activated. The metallic surface solidified into a sleek, armored gauntlet that fit Volk''s hand perfectly, as if it had been crafted just for him. The glow pulsed with a faint hum, casting an otherworldly light on the surroundings. Ding! | Radioactive Magic Gauntlet equipped. | The gauntlet crackled with raw energy, faint wisps of green radiation spiraling from its surface. Volk flexed his fingers experimentally, the gauntlet responding seamlessly to his movements. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Looks like I''ve got something new," he rumbled. Maxillian, however, was far from amused. His face paled as he stared at the glowing gauntlet. "W-wait a minute... what are you doing? No, no, NO! Put me down! I mean it!" Volk turned his attention back to his captive, his grip tightening ever so slightly. Maxillian yelped, his arms flailing as he tried to squirm free. "Let''s see if this thing works," Volk mused, more to himself than anyone else. "No! Don''t you dare!" Maxillian shrieked. "I''m warning you¡ª" CRACK! The sound of bones shattering echoed through the forest as Volk''s grip unintentionally tightened too much. Maxillian''s body went limp, his wide eyes frozen in a look of utter disbelief. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth as his head lolled to the side. Volk blinked, releasing the blonde man''s lifeless body, which crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll. "Huh," Volk muttered, examining the gauntlet. "Guess I don''t know my own strength." Chapter 213 - 213: Baron Territory In the sprawling halls of Baron Geisler''s mansion, a meeting room bristled with tension. A grand table stretched the length of the chamber, its surface polished to a mirror-like shine. Surrounding it were advisors, military strategists, and key members of the household. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and the faint tang of wine, but even these luxuries couldn''t mask the anxiety permeating the room. The Baron himself, a towering figure with a thick salt-and-pepper beard, sat at the head of the table. His piercing gray eyes swept across the room, scrutinizing every face as if daring anyone to speak out of turn. Despite his formidable presence, his brow was furrowed in thought, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as the discussions raged around him. "This kingdom is fracturing," one advisor began, a wiry man with spectacles perched on his nose. His voice was sharp, cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "The king''s failure to name a successor has thrown the realm into chaos. The princes are gathering their allies, and if we delay our decision any longer, we risk being left in the cold." "Left in the cold?" Another man, broader and red-faced, slammed his fist onto the table. "Do you think we''re some minor house to be overlooked? We are Geisler! A barony of strength, with lands that feed half the western province! Any prince would grovel for our support!" "But at what cost?" a woman countered, her voice calm but firm. She was dressed in flowing robes, her sharp green eyes betraying a keen intellect. "Throwing our lot in with the wrong prince could be disastrous. If they lose, the victor will strip us of our titles and lands. We must choose wisely." "Prince Aldric has the largest army," another advisor chimed in, his voice measured. "He''s young, yes, but his forces are disciplined, and his coffers are deep. Aligning with him would secure our position." "But what of Prince Leander?" the spectacled man interjected. "He may lack Aldric''s numbers, but his alliances with the mage guilds make him a formidable contender. A single battalion of battlemages could devastate an entire army." "And then there''s Prince Orlan," the broad-shouldered man muttered. "Cunning bastard, that one. He doesn''t fight with swords or magic¡ªhe fights with whispers. He''s already turned half the nobility against each other. Backing him might keep our heads on our shoulders." The room descended into a cacophony of arguments, voices rising and overlapping as each advisor championed their preferred candidate. The Baron listened in silence, his expression unreadable. Finally, he raised a hand, and the room fell silent. "We will not rush into this decision," he said, his voice a low rumble that commanded attention. "The Geisler name carries weight. We will not squander it by pledging fealty to a prince without careful consideration. "Continue gathering intelligence. I want to know their movements, their strategies, their weaknesses. Only then will we decide." "But, my lord," the woman in robes pressed gently, "time is of the essence. Every moment we delay, the balance of power shifts. Already, reports suggest that Aldric''s forces are advancing toward the central plains." "Let them march," the Baron said with a dismissive wave. "Aldric seeks to intimidate his rivals, but he cannot win the throne with brute force alone. This game is not won on the battlefield¡ªit is won in the shadows, with alliances and betrayals." The discussion shifted to logistics: the state of the barony''s army, the condition of the treasury, and the political maneuverings of neighboring lords. The advisors debated fiercely, their voices rising and falling like waves crashing against a cliff. "We must also consider the smaller factions," someone pointed out. "The minor lords and barons like ourselves. A united coalition could tip the scales in any prince''s favor. If we act as mediators¡ª" S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Mediators?" scoffed the broad-shouldered man. "That''s a role for cowards. We are not fence-sitters. When we act, we act decisively." As the argument continued, the tension in the room grew palpable. The weight of their decision hung over them like a storm cloud, each advisor acutely aware of the stakes. Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door cut through the heated debate. The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward the entrance. "Enter," the Baron commanded, his voice tinged with irritation. The heavy oak door creaked open, and an attendant stepped inside, his face pale and his eyes wide with urgency. He bowed deeply before addressing the room. "My lord," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "Forgive the interruption, but... something has happened." The Baron''s eyes narrowed. "Speak." The attendant swallowed hard, his gaze flickering nervously across the gathered advisors. "It''s the pendant, my lord. The pendant of the young master Maxillian... it... it has shattered." A heavy silence fell over the room, the implications of the attendant''s words sinking in like a stone thrown into a still pond. All eyes turned to the Baron, whose expression darkened like an approaching storm. Baron Geisler''s chair scraped violently against the floor as he stood, his towering frame casting an imposing shadow over the trembling attendant. His eyes burned with fury, his thick salt-and-pepper beard quivering as his jaw clenched tightly. The room fell deathly silent, every advisor holding their breath as the Baron strode toward the terrified servant. "You dare interrupt this meeting?" the Baron roared, his voice echoing through the grand chamber like thunder. His powerful hands grabbed the attendant by the collar, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The fine fabric of the servant''s tunic bunched in the Baron''s iron grip, choking the man slightly. "We are in the midst of deciding the fate of this barony! The future of our lands and people lies in these discussions, and you burst in with nonsense about a pendant? Are you a fool, or do you have a death wish?" The attendant''s legs dangled as he clawed weakly at the Baron''s wrist, his face turning red. "M-my lord, I¡ª" "Silence!" Geisler bellowed, shaking the man like a ragdoll. "Do you know what is at stake here? The kingdom teeters on the brink of war! Princes vie for power, alliances are forged and shattered in the shadows, and every baron, count, and duke is choosing sides! "If we misstep¡ªif we back the wrong prince¡ªwe lose everything! Our lands, our title, our lives! Do you understand that, you wretch?" The room''s occupants watched in stunned silence, their faces pale. No one dared intervene. "The people of this barony depend on us," Geisler continued, his voice a guttural snarl. "Every farmer in the fields, every soldier in the barracks, every merchant in the markets¡ªthey all look to me for protection and leadership! "I carry the weight of their lives on my shoulders! And you come here, interrupting this vital council, over some trinket? Do you think I have time for your idiotic ramblings?" The attendant choked out a desperate, garbled response, but the Baron wasn''t finished. "And let me remind you," he hissed, his face mere inches from the servant''s, "there is no danger in this barony. None! My forces patrol every road, every village, every forest. "Bandits fear us, monsters steer clear of our borders, and the rival lords know better than to provoke Geisler! "So tell me, you pathetic worm¡ªwhat in all the hells could possibly have happened to my son Maxillian that would shatter his pendant?" The Baron''s words hung in the air like the toll of a death knell. He pulled the servant closer, his free hand twitching as though ready to strike. Chapter 214 - 214: Gauntlet "I¡ªI don''t know!" the attendant stammered, his voice breaking with panic. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "My lord, I swear, I don''t know! The pendant¡ªit was fine just this morning! But now it''s... it''s shattered!" Geisler''s expression darkened further, his fury boiling over. He raised the servant higher, his massive arm bulging with effort. "You don''t know? You don''t know? Then what use are you to me? Perhaps I should crush your skull right now and save myself the trouble of hearing more of your drivel!" The attendant shrieked, his eyes wild with terror. "Wait! Please, my lord! Please! I can show you! The pendant¡ªit''s here! It''s here!" The Baron froze, his rage momentarily halted by the man''s frantic plea. He lowered the servant slightly, his grip still tight, and barked, "What do you mean, it''s here? Speak quickly, or I will send you to the afterlife without a second thought!" The servant fumbled at his belt, his hands shaking so badly that he nearly dropped the small leather pouch he was carrying. "I-I brought it, my lord! The pendant¡ªyour son''s pendant¡ªit''s inside!" Geisler''s eyes narrowed suspiciously. With a growl, he yanked the pouch from the servant''s hands and dropped the man unceremoniously to the floor. The servant crumpled, gasping for breath, as the Baron turned his attention to the pouch. Pulling it open, Geisler reached inside and withdrew the shattered remains of the pendant. His brow furrowed as he studied the fragments, his expression shifting from anger to confusion. The pendant''s once-perfect surface was now cracked and broken, its intricate design marred by jagged lines. The faint glow it had always emitted was gone, leaving it dull and lifeless. "What is this?" the Baron muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "This pendant was enchanted¡ªcrafted by the finest mages in the capital to ensure Maxillian''s safety. It was supposed to protect him, to warn us if he was in danger. How could it be shattered?" The room remained silent, the advisors too afraid to speak. Even the broad-shouldered man, usually unshakable, looked uneasy. Geisler clenched his fist around the pendant fragments, his knuckles turning white. "Something has happened to my son," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And I will find out what." ¡­ Meanwhile, amidst the grim stillness of the forest clearing, Lira and Mareen crouched beside the lifeless body of the fallen noble Maxillian. His fine clothes were now soiled with dirt and blood, his expression frozen in a mix of arrogance and terror. The two women rummaged through his belongings, their hands trembling as they worked. "Here," Lira whispered, pulling out a folded parchment from a hidden compartment in his cloak. Her hands shook as she unfolded it. "A map... no, wait... there''s two of them." Mareen leaned closer, her face pale and her breathing uneven. "Two maps?" she repeated, her voice quivering. "Why would he carry two?" Lira shrugged, her nerves getting the better of her. "Does it matter? We just need to give it to him before he gets angry again." Mareen nodded reluctantly. Together, they turned toward Volk, who stood a short distance away, his attention fixed on the glowing metallic green gauntlet that had now fully enveloped his right arm. He flexed his fingers experimentally, the metal shifting and pulsing with a faint radioactive hum. The faint glow illuminated his rugged, battle-scarred face, casting eerie shadows across his tusks and crimson eyes. "Um... Volk?" Lira called hesitantly. Her voice wavered, but she managed to catch his attention. Volk turned his head slowly, his piercing gaze locking onto them. The two women flinched under his scrutinizing stare, the weight of his presence making them feel small and insignificant. "What do you want?" Volk growled, his deep voice reverberating through the clearing. Mareen held up the two maps with trembling hands. "W-we found these," she stammered. "There''s a large-scale map... and a smaller, detailed one. Which do you want?" Volk''s eyes narrowed as he considered their words. After a moment, he let out a derisive snort. "Obviously, the large-scale one," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Why would I waste my time on something small and useless?" The two women exchanged nervous glances before carefully handing over the larger map. Mareen''s fingers brushed against Volk''s clawed hand as she passed it to him, and she recoiled as though burned. Volk smirked, his sharp teeth glinting in the faint light. "Go," he commanded, his voice cold and dismissive. "You''ve done your part. I don''t need you anymore." Lira and Mareen hesitated for a moment, their fear anchoring them in place. But when Volk''s eyes narrowed dangerously, they quickly turned and fled, their footsteps crunching against the forest floor as they disappeared into the trees. Volk let out a low chuckle, his amusement echoing in the silence. Unfolding the map, he studied its intricate details, his smirk widening. "This will make things easier," he muttered to himself, tucking it away into his belt. His gaze then shifted back to the gauntlet. The radioactive glow had grown stronger, the metal feeling almost alive as it pulsed in sync with his heartbeat. He raised his hand, admiring the lethal beauty of his newfound weapon. "Let''s see what this thing can do," Volk said, his voice low and filled with anticipation. He clenched his fist, and suddenly¡ª BOOM! A deafening explosion erupted from the gauntlet, sending a shockwave rippling through the forest. Trees nearby shuddered, their leaves trembling violently as if in fear of the power unleashed. Volk laughed, "HAHHAHAHAHA!" the sound guttural and raw. "Boom! Boom! Boom!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist into the ground repeatedly. Each strike sent out another devastating burst of energy, the ground quaking beneath him. Craters formed where his fist landed, the forest floor splitting apart with violent cracks. The radioactive energy surged through him, feeding his strength and amplifying his already terrifying power. Volk''s laughter echoed through the woods, a sound of triumph and unrelenting ferocity. With one final strike, he stood, the forest around him now eerily silent save for the faint hum of the gauntlet. "Not bad," Volk muttered, a grin spreading across his face. "Not bad at all." He turned in the direction marked on the map, his crimson eyes gleaming with determination. "But this is not enough." Chapter 215 - 215: Worm Snake Volk crouched low to the ground, his massive hands digging into the soil with relentless force. Each scoop of earth seemed easier than the last, the radioactive magic in his gauntlet humming with purpose. The more he dug, the more he felt connected to the strange, pulsing energy within the gauntlet. "Ground Burrower," Volk muttered to himself, the words appearing in his mind as though whispered by the gauntlet itself. He could feel its intent¡ªthis wasn''t just a weapon of destruction. It was a tool of dominance over the very terrain itself. He dug deeper, the soil flying around him in great clumps. The sensation of the gauntlet adapting and learning from his actions filled him with a strange sense of exhilaration. It was as if the weapon had a mind of its own, and it thrived on his aggression. Suddenly, Volk froze. His instincts screamed at him, warning him of something lurking beneath. The ground beneath him trembled slightly, and a faint, guttural sound¡ªlike the grinding of stone¡ªreverberated through the earth. "What now?" Volk growled, his crimson eyes narrowing. Without hesitation, he continued digging, his massive fists striking deeper into the ground. The gauntlet pulsed with radioactive light, carving through the layers of dirt like a knife through butter. Then he saw it¡ªa glimpse of something pale and smooth, writhing in the dirt below. It was massive, its segmented body glistening like wet marble under the faint glow of the gauntlet. "A worm?" Volk mused, tilting his head. "Or something worse?" Without waiting for an answer, Volk slammed his gauntlet down onto the creature''s body. CRACK! The impact sent a tremor through the ground, and the massive white worm squirmed violently, its body contorting in pain. The creature let out a wet, guttural shriek that seemed to echo through the burrow. "Hah!" Volk barked out a laugh, his tusks glinting as he grinned. "You don''t like that, do you?" S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He slammed his gauntlet down again, this time with even greater force. BOOM! The worm convulsed, thrashing so violently that chunks of dirt and rock were flung into the air. Its movements were erratic, like it was trying to retreat but couldn''t escape Volk''s relentless assault. Volk felt a surge of ecstasy as he continued his assault. Each punch sent a jolt of energy through his arm, the gauntlet feeding off his brutality. The ground beneath him shook with every blow, the worm''s pained shrieks like music to his ears. "Squirm, you slimy thing!" Volk shouted, his voice filled with savage glee. He struck again. WHAM! This time, the worm''s body twitched in spasms, leaving faint streaks of luminescent fluid oozing from the damaged segments. But then, the trembling stopped. Volk paused, his gauntlet still glowing as he stared at the worm''s battered body. The air grew thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint dripping of its strange, glowing fluid. Then, the ground directly in front of him split apart with a deafening roar. RIIIIIIIIP! A massive head burst forth from the earth, revealing itself in full. It was serpent-like, with milky-white scales covering its elongated face. Two gleaming black eyes locked onto Volk with unmistakable hatred, and its mouth opened to reveal rows of jagged, glistening teeth. The creature hissed, its voice a blend of fury and pain. Volk''s smirk returned, wider than ever. "Finally," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Something worth fighting." Volk stood his ground, staring down the massive worm-like serpent as it coiled and thrashed before him, its milky-white body smeared with glowing ichor from where his gauntlet had battered it. The air was thick with tension, the creature''s hissing filling the tunnel like the sound of steam escaping a broken pipe. The serpent lunged first, its jaw opening wide to reveal rows of needle-like teeth that glistened with venom. Volk dodged easily, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That all you''ve got?" he taunted, his voice echoing off the earthen walls. The creature slammed into the ground where he had stood, sending a spray of dirt and rocks in all directions. Volk leaped to the side, his massive frame moving with surprising agility. As he landed, he brought his gauntlet down onto the serpent''s side with a thunderous BOOM! The serpent shrieked, its body convulsing violently. Luminescent fluid sprayed from the wound, splattering against the walls and floor. Volk laughed, the sound deep and rumbling. "Weak," he muttered, shaking his head. The worm twisted its body, its tail whipping around like a massive club. It came at Volk with enough force to crush stone, but he raised his gauntlet and caught it mid-swing. The impact sent a shockwave through the tunnel, but Volk barely flinched. "Pathetic," he said, gripping the tail tightly. He swung the massive creature like a flail, slamming it into the walls and floor with reckless abandon. CRASH! BOOM! SMASH! Each impact sent chunks of earth and rock flying. The worm''s shrieks grew more desperate, its body writhing in futile attempts to escape. Volk finally released it, throwing it against the far wall with a deafening THUD! The creature lay there for a moment, dazed and barely moving. Volk walked toward it slowly, his heavy footsteps echoing ominously. "Come on," he said, rolling his shoulders. "I know you''ve got more fight in you." The serpent lifted its head weakly, its black eyes filled with a mix of hatred and fear. It lunged again, slower this time, its movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Volk sidestepped easily, slamming his fist into its head with a resounding CRACK! The creature crumpled to the ground, its body twitching. Volk crouched beside it, tilting his head as he studied it. "Is that it?" he asked, his tone mocking. "I was hoping for more." The worm hissed weakly, its body coiling in on itself as if trying to shield itself from him. Volk chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "You''re not even worth killing," he said, standing up. "But I''m not done with you yet." He grabbed the creature by its tail, dragging it across the ground like a sack of grain. The worm thrashed feebly, its strength all but gone. Volk swung it around again, slamming it into the walls and floor with reckless abandon. WHAM! BAM! CRASH! The tunnel shook with each impact, dust and debris raining down from above. The serpent''s shrieks grew quieter, its movements weaker. Volk finally let it go, tossing it to the ground like a discarded toy. The creature lay there, its body battered and broken. It let out a low, pitiful hiss, its black eyes dimming. Volk crouched beside it once more, his smirk replaced by a look of mild boredom. "You''re lucky I''m in a good mood," he said, tapping the serpent''s head with his gauntlet. "I''ll let you go. But next time¡­" He leaned in closer, his crimson eyes glowing with menace. "You''d better be stronger." The serpent hisses weakly, its body trembling as it tries to slither away. Volk watched it go, his smirk returning. "Pathetic," he muttered, shaking his head. He stood up, flexing his gauntlet-clad hand. The radioactive glow pulsed faintly, as if responding to his thoughts. "Let''s see what else is out there," Volk said to himself, turning and walking deeper into the tunnel. Chapter 216 - 216: Tracking Meanwhile, on the other side, the scene was grim as Baron Geisler and his squad of knights approached the site where Maxillian''s mangled body lay sprawled. The air was thick with the acrid scent of death, mingled with the damp musk of disturbed earth. The knights, clad in gleaming silver armor adorned with the sigil of the Geisler house¡ªa snarling wolf beneath a crescent moon¡ªspread out in a disciplined formation. Each step they took was deliberate, their boots crunching against the dirt with a sound that reverberated in the eerie stillness. Baron Geisler dismounted his jet-black steed with practiced ease, his sharp eyes scanning the area. Despite the sight of his son''s twisted and lifeless form, his expression remained stony and detached. His face, angular and lined with the marks of a man accustomed to command, betrayed no flicker of emotion. "Secure the perimeter," he ordered in a cold, measured tone. "Yes, my lord," the knights replied in unison, spreading out to ensure there were no lurking dangers. Geisler approached the body, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. He stood over his son''s corpse, his shadow falling across the bloodied and broken form. Maxillian''s once-proud noble attire was now shredded, the fabric soaked in crimson. The young man''s face, though pale and lifeless, still bore a trace of his last expression¡ªshock and terror. One of the knights, a seasoned veteran named Sir Aldred, knelt beside the body, examining it with a clinical precision that matched his lord''s demeanor. He lifted the shattered remnants of Maxillian''s pendant, its magical energy long since dissipated. "My lord," Aldred began, his voice steady, "the pendant''s destruction indicates he was likely killed by an overwhelming force. The magical feedback alone suggests the assailant''s power was far beyond what Maxillian could withstand." Geisler gave a faint nod, his gaze shifting to the ground around the body. The earth was deeply gouged, as though something massive had been dragged across it. Faint footprints¡ªlarge, irregular, and inhuman¡ªwere visible in the disturbed dirt. "Continue," Geisler said simply. Aldred gestured to the footprints, his brow furrowing. "These tracks¡­ they belong to a monstrous humanoid, possibly an ogre or a variant thereof. The sheer size and depth suggest incredible physical strength. The spacing indicates it carried a significant weight, perhaps a weapon or a person." Another knight, a younger man named Sir Deyric, stepped forward, pointing toward smaller, lighter footprints nearby. "These belong to two women," he said. "Their strides are uneven¡ªshorter and hesitant. They were likely moving under duress, perhaps as captives or unwilling companions." "Notice the pattern here," Aldred added, gesturing to the footprints. "The humanoid moved ahead with purpose, while the women''s paths show hesitation, suggesting fear or reluctance." Geisler remained silent, his gaze sweeping the area. The knights continued their investigation, meticulously piecing together the story written in the earth. Deyric crouched near a patch of trampled grass and plucked a small scrap of fabric from a thorny bush. The cloth was rough and dyed with natural pigments. He held it up to Aldred, who inspected it closely. "This fabric is crude," Aldred noted. "It''s woven from wild fibers, not the refined textiles of a city. These women are likely from one of the tribal territories, not an urban center." Deyric nodded. "Their bare footprints also suggest they come from a tribal background. The lack of shoes and the callused patterns on their soles are indicative of those who live in untamed environments." Geisler finally spoke, his voice cutting through the murmurs of his knights like a blade. "A tribal connection complicates matters. The tribes have no allegiance to the crown, making it difficult to ascertain their motivations. Were they abducted? Or are they accomplices to this creature?" Aldred stood, his armor clinking softly. "It''s unclear, my lord. But their presence here, with such a creature, suggests an unusual dynamic. We''ll need more evidence to determine their role." Geisler turned his attention to the horizon, his piercing gaze scanning the distant woods. "What of the path forward?" Deyric pointed to faint drag marks leading away from the scene. "The creature carried something¡ªor someone¡ªaway from here. These tracks are erratic, as though it moved at great speed. It''s heading toward the eastern forest." Geisler''s lips tightened into a thin line. "And the creature itself?" Aldred gestured to the claw marks and blood smears around the area. "Judging by the brutality of this scene and the signs of a struggle, the creature possesses not only immense strength but also a sadistic streak. It toys with its prey, taking pleasure in their suffering." The baron''s gaze darkened. "This beast killed my son, left him in the dirt like refuse, and now flees deeper into the wilderness. Yet it was accompanied by two women, likely tribes folk, who may hold the key to understanding its motives." Suddenly, a panicked voice broke the silence. "My lord!" The knights turned to see another attendant rushing toward them, holding something in his trembling hands. Geisler stepped forward, his expression hardening. The attendant fell to his knees, presenting a shattered piece of metal¡ªit was part of Maxillian''s enchanted pendant. "My lord," he stammered, "this was found near the body. It¡ªit''s as though the pendant was¡­ torn apart from within." S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Geisler took the broken fragment, his gloved fingers tightening around it. His expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of something¡ªanger, perhaps¡ªpassed through his eyes. "Prepare the men," he commanded. "We move east at first light. This creature will not escape my justice." "Yes, my lord!" the knights replied in unison, their voices resolute. Geisler turned back to his son''s lifeless form, his gaze lingering for a moment before he mounted his horse. Without another word, he spurred the animal forward, his knights falling into formation behind him. Not long, the group halted abruptly, the air heavy with the weight of their investigation. Sir Aldred knelt again, scrutinizing the diverging sets of footprints. His gloved hand hovered over the lighter impressions, tracing their delicate but deliberate path. "My lord," Aldred began, his voice measured yet edged with curiosity, "the tracks of the two women veer off here." He gestured toward a trail that led toward denser woods, where the foliage seemed to clutch at the ground with greedy fingers. "They appear to have split from the larger tracks. Perhaps they''ve fled the creature¡­ or were released." Baron Geisler remained on horseback, his posture rigid yet commanding. His cold eyes followed Aldred''s gesture, lingering on the faint impressions of bare feet. "And the creature?" Geisler asked, his voice like the scrape of steel against stone. "The larger tracks head east, deeper into the wilderness," Deyric responded, pointing to the gouges in the dirt. "The depth of these impressions and the way the ground is churned suggest it''s moving quickly¡ªpurposefully. "It''s carrying something or someone, though the drag marks are inconsistent. It may be encumbered but not significantly slowed." The knights exchanged glances, their unspoken question lingering in the air: Which path to follow? Aldred rose, brushing the dirt from his knee and turning to Geisler. "My lord," he began cautiously, "we have two trails before us. If we pursue the women, they may offer answers, perhaps even a connection to this creature. However¡ª" Geisler interrupted him with a raised hand, his expression unchanging. "No!" Chapter 217 - 217: Incoming "No." The knights fell silent, their eyes fixed on their lord. Geisler dismounted his horse, his boots crunching against the earth as he strode forward. He stopped near the larger tracks, staring down at the deep indentations as though they were a personal affront. He clasped his hands behind his back, his fingers tightening around his wrist. When he spoke, his voice was calm, deliberate, yet brimming with an icy intensity that sent a chill through his men. "We follow the beast," Geisler declared. "These women are irrelevant. They are pawns in a game far greater than their insignificant lives. If they survive, they may return to their tribes, but their role here is finished." He turned to Aldred, his gaze hard and unyielding. "Do you think I care for their motives? For their survival? No. I care only for the creature that crushed my son¡ªmy blood. Maxillian may have been young, arrogant, even reckless, but he was mine. "This monster dared to challenge the honor of House Geisler, and for that, it will pay in blood." Geisler paused, his hand gesturing toward the east. "We march forward. Every step it takes is a step closer to its reckoning. If it believes it can escape, it is mistaken. My son''s life will not be reduced to a fleeting memory in the dirt. I will ensure that the last thing this creature sees is my blade." The knights straightened, their resolve steeling in the presence of their lord''s cold fury. "Yes, my lord," they said in unison, their voices firm. With that, Geisler mounted his horse again, spurring it forward along the larger trail. The knights followed in a disciplined line, their armor clinking softly as they moved. Hours passed as they traversed the rugged terrain. The eastern woods grew darker, the trees towering overhead like silent sentinels. The path became more treacherous, the ground uneven and riddled with roots that clawed at their boots. Yet Geisler''s resolve never wavered. His gaze remained fixed ahead, his thoughts consumed by vengeance. Suddenly, a low rumble echoed through the forest, causing the knights to halt. The sound grew louder, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to shake the ground itself. From the shadows ahead, a massive figure emerged¡ªa snake-like worm, its pale, segmented body glistening with viscous slime. Its eyeless head swayed as it hissed, revealing rows of serrated teeth that dripped with venom. "Prepare yourselves," Aldred commanded, drawing his sword. The knights formed a defensive line, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. The worm lunged, its gaping maw snapping toward the nearest knight. But these were no ordinary men; they were Geisler''s elite. "Strike true!" Aldred bellowed. The knights moved with precision, their blades slicing through the worm''s flesh. The creature shrieked, its segmented body thrashing violently. Green ichor sprayed from its wounds, but the knights pressed on, their attacks coordinated and relentless. Geisler watched from horseback, his expression unchanging. "It''s merely an obstacle," he muttered to himself. "Nothing more." With a final, guttural scream, the worm collapsed, its body convulsing before falling still. The knights stood over its carcass, their armor splattered with its blood, their breaths coming in sharp gasps. "Onward," Geisler ordered, his tone as cold as ever. "This beast is nothing compared to what lies ahead." The knights nodded, falling back into formation as they resumed their march. The trail of the monstrous humanoid awaited, and with it, the promise of vengeance. ¡­ The dense canopy of the forest loomed over Volk as he continued his relentless excavation, digging deeper into the earth with the precision of a predator stalking prey. His green-skinned muscles rippled as the radioactive gauntlet pulsed with energy, effortlessly breaking through the soil and roots that would have hindered any ordinary being. The vibrations from his efforts echoed faintly in the forest, a steady thud-thud-thud that seemed to meld with the natural rhythms of the wild. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He exhaled deeply, his breath misting in the cool air. The work was exhilarating, yet taxing. Dirt and grime smeared his face, but there was a satisfaction in the simplicity of the task. Volk paused for a moment, leaning on the gauntlet as it emitted a faint, ominous hum. "Phew," he muttered to himself, glancing at the roughened skin of his other hand. His brow glistened with sweat, and he instinctively raised his arm to wipe it away. But then he froze. The gauntlet¡ªthe radioactive beast encasing his arm¡ªwas still active. Its metallic green sheen glimmered faintly in the filtered sunlight. Volk''s instincts screamed at him to tread carefully. A single careless motion could turn the smallest graze into something catastrophic. The energy radiating from the gauntlet wasn''t just dangerous; it was unpredictable. Volk pulled back his arm slowly, almost reverently, as if appeasing a temperamental deity. His eyes narrowed, studying the intricate patterns etched into the metal. Tiny arcs of green electricity crackled along its surface, a constant reminder of the power it held. He clenched his jaw, his focus razor-sharp. With his free hand, he reached into a small leather pouch tied to his waist and withdrew a tattered cloth. Carefully, with deliberate movements, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, his muscles coiled as if expecting an explosion. The gauntlet buzzed faintly in response to the proximity of his hand, but Volk''s steady control kept it in check. "Easy," he muttered, his voice low and measured, like calming a feral beast. Each pass of the cloth was meticulous, ensuring no part of his skin brushed against the volatile weapon strapped to his arm. His breathing slowed, his heart steadying as he completed the task. When he was done, he let out a long, satisfied exhale. "There," he said with a smirk, tossing the cloth back into his pouch. "Can''t let a little sweat get in the way of perfection." He flexed his fingers experimentally, the gauntlet responding with a subtle hum. The power it offered was intoxicating, but Volk was no fool. He knew better than to let it control him. "It''s a tool," he muttered, as if reaffirming the thought to himself. "Not a master." Straightening up, he glanced at the churned earth around him. The digging was done, the ground beneath his feet now a chaotic mess of overturned soil and fractured roots. Volk grinned, his tusks glinting in the dappled light. "Well," he said, dusting off his hands, "that''s enough playtime. Exercise is done. Now¡­" He turned, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Time to find the horde." Suddenly, a chime echoed in his ears, a sharp, resonant ding that snapped him to attention. A translucent system screen materialized before him, its glowing text stark against the forest''s shadowy backdrop. --- DING! New Mission: Destroy the entire cavalry of Baron Geisler without turning into Radioactive Form. Rewards: Directions to each member of the Horde, including their wives. Failure: Gauntlet Disappearance. --- Volk''s eyes narrowed as he read the mission details. His grin faded, replaced by a contemplative frown. "So, they''re already on their way," he mused, cracking his neck. "Figures." He reread the mission, his gaze lingering on the conditions. No radioactive form? He snorted. "What''s the fun in that?" he muttered, flexing his gauntlet-clad hand. But then his lips curled into a smirk. "Guess it''s a good challenge." The stakes were high. The gauntlet had proven itself invaluable, and the thought of losing it wasn''t an option. His mind raced, piecing together a strategy. "Cavalry, huh?" he murmured, his grin widening. "Let''s see how they handle a little guerrilla warfare." Volk glanced at the path ahead, his senses sharpening. Somewhere out there, Baron Geisler''s men were marching toward him, armed and ready. But they weren''t ready for Volk. With a final glance at the system screen, Volk clenched his fist, the gauntlet glowing faintly in response. "Let''s get to work," he said, his voice a low growl. Chapter 218 - 218: Choosing Path Volk''s heavy boots crunched against the ground as he marched onward, the gauntlet on his arm humming softly with latent energy. The forest around him began to thin out, giving way to a peculiar crossroads of terrains. He stopped abruptly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scanned the expanse before him. To his left, a sprawling forested area stretched as far as the eye could see. The canopy was dense, the undergrowth thick with tangled roots and shrubs. Shadows danced between the trees, making it both a haven for ambushes and a labyrinth for the unwary. Straight ahead lay a towering rock mountain, its jagged peaks clawing at the sky. The air grew colder as it loomed in the distance, its steep cliffs and loose scree presenting both a challenge and an opportunity. And to his right, an ominous underground cave yawned open, its entrance a black void that seemed to swallow the light. A faint, damp breeze wafted from its depths, carrying with it the faint stench of decay and something¡­ alive. Volk crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in thought. "Three paths," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "Each one could lead to either an advantage¡­ or my failure on the Mission." He turned his gaze back to the forested area, his sharp eyes scanning the treetops. The forest seemed like the most logical choice at first glance. It offered cover, natural barriers, and countless opportunities for ambushes. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "If it were just me," he muttered, tapping the gauntlet against his thigh, "I''d tear through them in there like a shadow in the night. The trees would block their sight, the undergrowth would slow their mounts, and I could pick them off one by one." He paused, his smirk fading. "But¡­" Volk shook his head, his expression darkening. "The cavalry isn''t stupid. They''re well-trained, and I''d wager they''re prepared for terrain like this. Hell, they might even see it as the most obvious place for me to go." He took a step closer to the edge of the forest, letting his hand brush against the rough bark of a tree. The forest felt alive, pulsing with the energy of countless creatures hidden within. For a moment, he entertained the idea of using the terrain to his advantage, but then his instincts screamed at him to reconsider. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "Forests are a trap, but not for them¡ªfor me." Volk began pacing, his boots leaving faint imprints in the dirt as he continued to speak aloud, reasoning with himself. "First," he said, holding up a finger, "they probably have incendiary weapons. That blonde brat I crushed was no simple soldier; he was a noble. If his father''s men are anything like him, they''ll come prepared to smoke me out." He glanced back at the forest, imagining it ablaze. "Doesn''t matter how thick the trees are. One spark, and the whole place becomes an inferno." He raised a second finger, his gaze narrowing further. "Second, it''s too predictable. If I can see the forest as a viable ambush point, they can too. They''d expect me to hide there, to use the shadows and the cover to my advantage. That means they''ll send scouts or even lure me into a trap of their own." Volk stopped pacing, turning back to the forest with a scowl. His gauntlet hummed softly, almost as if agreeing with his assessment. "Third," he growled, clenching his fist, "the forest is a double-edged sword. Sure, I can move quickly and strike from the shadows, but so can they. Cavalry might not navigate well in there, but infantry will. And if they''re smart¡ªand I''m betting they are¡ªthey''ll deploy both. I''d be surrounded in no time." He exhaled sharply, his breath misting slightly in the cool air. The forest, once appealing, now felt like a death trap waiting to spring shut. "Not worth it," he muttered, taking a step back from the treeline. "Too many variables. Too many ways to die." He turned his gaze toward the other two paths, his mind already weighing the pros and cons of each. But as he moved, he couldn''t help but glance back at the forest one last time. "Beautiful place," he said softly, almost wistfully. "Shame it''s useless to me right now." sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. With that, Volk adjusted the gauntlet on his arm and turned away, his steps resolute as he prepared to choose another path. Soon, his eyes shifted from the forest to the dark, gaping maw of the underground cave to his right. The damp air wafting from its depths felt like the exhale of some ancient beast, heavy with moisture and laced with decay. He took a few steps closer, his boots crunching softly on the rocky ground. "Hmm¡­" He tilted his head, scrutinizing the cave entrance. "Underground¡­ A place to hide, maybe ambush, but¡­" He paused, running a gloved hand along the edge of the gauntlet. Its surface shimmered faintly in the dim light, its power humming softly as though attuned to his thoughts. His crimson eyes narrowed, and he let out a low grunt. "Something doesn''t sit right," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Caves have their advantages, sure. Narrow paths, low visibility¡ªforces them to fight me one-on-one." He smirked for a brief moment, imagining the cavalry''s helpless faces as they funneled into the cramped tunnels, only to be met with his raw power. But then his smirk faded. His instincts screamed against it. "No," he muttered, shaking his head. "Caves aren''t just confined spaces. They''re traps¡ªworse than the forest." He turned to look at the entrance again, this time with a hint of disdain. "And if I''ve thought about using it, so have they." He began pacing again, his heavy footfalls echoing faintly. His voice grew more resolute as he listed off his reasoning. "First," he began, holding up a finger, "water. Caves always have water somewhere¡ªpools, underground streams, something. And water doesn''t care who you are. If they figure out I''m in there, all they''d need is a few clever tricks. Flood the damn place, and I''d drown like a rat." He stopped, turning to glare at the cave entrance as though it were mocking him. "Second," he growled, raising another finger, "visibility. Sure, I can see in the dark better than they can, but that doesn''t mean I''m untouchable. They could light the place up with torches, or worse, smoke me out like a hive of bees. One good choke point, and I''d be cornered." Volk rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing further. "Third," he said, raising a third finger, "terrain. Sure, it''s tight and confined, but that doesn''t just apply to them. My movements would be limited too. Swinging my axe? Forget it. Using the gauntlet''s full power? Risky as hell. The ceiling could collapse, or worse, the whole damn cave could cave in." He stopped pacing, planting his feet firmly on the ground. His crimson gaze bore into the cave entrance, his scowl deepening. "No, this isn''t a place for a fight," he muttered. "Too much can go wrong, and I''m not in the mood to test my luck against rocks and water." Volk took a step back, turning his gaze to the remaining path: the towering rock mountain ahead. "At least up there," he said, pointing toward the rugged peaks, "I''ll have the high ground. And if they try anything clever, I can just toss boulders down at them." He turned away from the cave, his mind made up. "Clever bastards might think I''d hide in there," he said over his shoulder, addressing the cave as if it were listening. "But I''m not stupid enough to walk into my own grave." With that, Volk adjusted the gauntlet once more and began walking toward the rock mountain, his steps firm and purposeful. Behind him, the cave entrance loomed, a dark reminder of the dangers he chose to avoid. Chapter 219 - 219: Rock mountain As Volk approached the looming rock mountain, his crimson eyes gleamed with anticipation. The terrain ahead was a jagged colossus, its uneven cliffs stretching into the sky like the broken teeth of a fallen giant. The ground beneath him shifted with loose gravel, and the air grew cooler as the shadow of the mountain enveloped him. A low, satisfied chuckle rumbled from his chest as he slowed his pace, surveying the terrain with the sharp precision of a predator. "This," he muttered to himself, his voice deep and filled with approval, "is perfect. Absolutely perfect." He stopped to place a massive hand on the rough surface of the mountain. The stone was solid and cold, unyielding to his touch. His gauntleted fingers scraped against it, producing a faint metallic screech as he traced the potential lines of destruction. "A natural fortress," Volk said, stepping back to take in the full view. "No cavalry in their right mind would want to charge up a slope like this. Too steep, too unstable. Their horses would panic, their formation would crumble, and they''d be nothing but sitting ducks." S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His gaze roamed higher, spotting loose boulders scattered across the cliffs like ammunition waiting to be used. "And these," he said with a smirk, gesturing toward the boulders, "are just begging to be put to work. I can roll them down, one after another, like giant bullets. Let''s see how those tin-can knights deal with rocks the size of wagons!" He crouched down and scooped up a handful of loose gravel, letting it fall through his fingers. "Even this," he mused, "could work in my favor. A single landslide, and I could bury half of them alive. They''d never even see it coming." Volk rose to his full height, his mind spinning with possibilities. "But why stop there?" he continued, pacing along the base of the mountain. "I could collapse the whole damn thing if I wanted to. Just one good strike from the gauntlet in the right spot, and the entire side would come crashing down. Let''s see their cavalry charge through an avalanche." He laughed at the thought, a deep, guttural sound that echoed through the quiet air. "And if they do somehow make it up here," Volk said, turning his gaze to the narrow paths and jagged cliffs, "they''ll be forced to come at me one by one. No room for their precious formations, no chance to flank me. Just me and them, face to face. It''ll be like shooting fish in a barrel." He clenched his gauntleted fist, the metallic green surface shimmering faintly as it responded to his excitement. "I could even use the gauntlet to tear chunks of rock out of the mountain," he added, flexing his fingers. "Turn them into weapons. Boulders, spikes, walls¡ªanything I need. This place is a playground, and they''re the toys." Volk paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as he admired the sheer scale of the mountain. "They won''t know what hit them," he said, his voice low and almost reverent. "This mountain isn''t just my battleground¡ªit''s my ally. Together, we''ll crush them." With a sudden burst of energy, Volk broke into a run, his massive frame barreling toward the mountain. His heavy steps sent small rocks skittering ahead of him, and his deep laughter echoed through the valley as he charged forward. "This is going to be fun!" he roared, his voice filled with savage glee. As he reached the base of the mountain, Volk began to climb, his gauntlet sinking into the rock like a claw. Each pull and step was deliberate, his massive body moving with surprising agility. This was his stage, and he was ready to put on a show. ¡­ Baron Geisler and his cavalry of knights arrived at the scene with a tense, calculated air. The clearing where the massive humanoid had once stood was a chaotic mess of churned earth, scattered debris, and faint impressions of enormous footprints. The faint light of the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the landscape, painting an ominous picture of destruction. Geisler dismounted his horse with practiced ease, his steel-clad boots hitting the ground with a solid thud. He surveyed the area with sharp, unrelenting eyes, his cold expression betraying none of the simmering anger that burned beneath the surface. The knights behind him dismounted as well, their armor clinking as they spread out, scanning the terrain. "Report," Geisler commanded, his voice like a blade cutting through the stillness. One of the knights stepped forward, his helmet tucked under his arm. "My lord, the tracks are fresh. The creature moved with considerable speed, and its weight left deep impressions in the soil." Geisler nodded, his gaze fixed on the ground. He crouched to examine the marks, his gloved fingers tracing the edges of one of the footprints. "Humanoid," he muttered to himself, "but far larger than anything natural. This is no mere beast. This is a creature of war, a weapon." Another knight approached, gesturing toward the surrounding terrain. "My lord, the tracks seem to diverge in multiple directions. It''s unclear which path the creature took. There are signs leading toward the forested area, others toward the rock mountain, and faint indications of movement near the underground cave system." Geisler rose to his full height, his cape billowing slightly in the breeze. He turned to face his men, his expression unreadable. "Three paths," he said, his tone measured. "And no clear indication of which it chose. We must decide carefully. A mistake here could cost us precious time¡ªand more importantly, our target." The knights exchanged uneasy glances. The weight of the decision pressed heavily on all of them. "The forested area," one knight suggested, stepping forward. "It offers cover and concealment. If the creature sought to evade us, the forest would be the most logical choice." "But my lord," another interrupted, pointing toward the rock mountain, "the forest may be a trap. It''s too easy for such a large creature to hide there, yes, but also too easy for it to ambush us. The rock mountain, however, provides high ground. If it intended to fortify itself or prepare for an attack, that would be the ideal location." "And the underground cave?" a third knight chimed in. "If the creature sought to disappear entirely, there''s no better place. The caves are vast, twisting, and dark. A creature of this size could vanish into the depths, and we''d never find it." The debate grew louder as more knights joined in, each presenting their reasoning. "The forest would allow it to outmaneuver us!" "But the rock mountain is a natural fortress¡ªit would be foolish to ignore it!" "The caves are treacherous; we could lose men just searching for it!" Geisler listened in silence, his piercing gaze shifting between the arguing knights. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, his fingers drumming rhythmically as he considered their points. Finally, he raised a hand, and the knights fell silent immediately. "This creature," he began, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of menace, "is not merely fleeing. It is thinking, planning. Its actions are deliberate. We must assume it has chosen the terrain that best suits its needs¡ªterrain that offers both defense and offense." He turned to the knight who had suggested the forest. "The forest is indeed an excellent place to evade us. But it is also flammable. If it thought we would pursue it there, it would know we could easily destroy its cover with fire. It would not risk such vulnerability." He shifted his gaze to the knight advocating for the caves. "The underground cave system offers concealment, yes. But this creature has proven it is bold. To retreat into darkness is the act of prey, not a predator. This is not a creature that hides." Finally, he gestured toward the rock mountain. "The mountain is the answer. High ground, natural defenses, and abundant ammunition. From there, it could face us head-on while turning the terrain against us. It is the only logical choice." The knights nodded, murmuring their agreement. "Then the mountain it is," Geisler declared, his tone resolute. But as they began to prepare for their march, a low rumble echoed through the air. The ground beneath their feet trembled slightly, and small stones began to dislodge from the direction of the mountain. The knights froze, their hands instinctively going to their weapons. "What was that?" one of them whispered, his voice tinged with unease. The rumble grew louder, more insistent, like the growl of an enormous beast. Geisler''s eyes narrowed as he turned toward the mountain. "It seems," he said coldly, "that our prey is not content to wait for us." With a sharp motion, he drew his sword and pointed it toward the mountain. "Knights! Forward! The hunt continues!" The cavalry roared in unison, their voices a blend of fear and determination, as they began their march toward the rumbling mountain. Chapter 220 - 220: Rain of Rocks The cavalry advanced cautiously as they neared the base of the imposing rock mountain. The ground grew uneven, littered with smaller stones that clattered beneath their horses'' hooves. The towering cliffs loomed above them like jagged teeth, casting long, menacing shadows in the fading light. The once confident march of the knights had turned hesitant, their eyes darting nervously at every crack and crevice. The oppressive silence was broken only by the sound of wind whistling through the rocks and the faint, ominous echoes of falling debris in the distance. A knight near the front of the formation pulled back on his reins, causing his horse to rear slightly. "My lord, this place feels¡­ wrong," he murmured, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound calm. "Hold your tongue," barked another knight, his face pale but resolute. "We are here on Baron Geisler''s orders. Do not falter now." Baron Geisler, riding at the center of the formation, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the mountain''s peak. His expression was as cold and unyielding as the stone before them. Yet, even he could not ignore the strange tension that seemed to thicken the air. And then it began. A sharp crack echoed from above, followed by a low, rumbling growl. All eyes shot upward, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. A boulder, massive and jagged, broke free from the cliffs and began to hurtle toward them. "MOVE!" someone screamed, and chaos erupted. The knights scrambled to steer their horses out of the boulder''s path, but it was too late for one. The massive rock slammed into the ground with a deafening BOOM, sending up a plume of dirt and shattered stone. The unfortunate knight beneath it was crushed instantly, his armor crumpling like tin under the immense weight. A spray of blood and viscera painted the nearby ground, eliciting horrified gasps and cries from the others. "By the gods!" one knight shouted, his face pale as he yanked his horse away from the carnage. "What in blazes is happening?!" another demanded, his voice shaking. Baron Geisler raised his hand sharply, silencing the panicked murmurs. "It''s the creature," he said coldly, his voice cutting through the din. "It knows we''re here." As if on cue, another boulder came crashing down, this time striking the ground near the rear of the formation. The impact sent horses rearing and knights sprawling, their cries mingling with the shrill neighs of terrified steeds. "Scatter! Spread out!" one of the senior knights commanded, his voice hoarse as he tried to regain control of the situation. "Don''t bunch together! It''s targeting groups!" But the command only added to the chaos. The once-organized cavalry dissolved into a frenzy of movement, knights shouting conflicting orders as they tried to avoid the deadly rain of stone. CRACK-BOOM! Another rock fell, crushing two knights who had barely managed to steer their horses away from the previous impact. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The sound of shattering bones and twisting metal was sickening, followed by the agonized screams of those caught in the debris. "It''s a massacre!" one knight cried, his face streaked with sweat and dirt as he frantically urged his horse forward. "Keep moving!" another shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "We have to get closer to the mountain¡ªit''s the only way to stop this!" But as they pressed on, the situation grew even worse. The rocks fell faster now, as if the mountain itself had come alive, determined to obliterate them. "Look out!" a knight screamed, pointing upward. A cluster of boulders, loosened by some unseen force, tumbled down the slope in a cascade of destruction. The rocks smashed into the cavalry with unrelenting force, crushing three more knights in a single instant. Blood pooled on the ground, mixing with the dirt and creating gruesome mud. Severed limbs and shattered armor littered the area, a horrifying testament to the unrelenting assault. "THIS IS MADNESS!" one knight wailed, clutching his sword as if it could somehow protect him from the relentless onslaught. "We can''t stop here!" another shouted, his voice thick with panic. "We''ll be wiped out if we stay in the open like this!" Baron Geisler, still atop his horse, clenched his jaw as he surveyed the carnage. His eyes were looking at his knights as if they were nothing but mere pawns and their lives didn''t even matter to him. In his eyes, there was only hatred and desire for vengeance against the killer of his son. Despite the chaos around him, he remained eerily calm, his piercing gaze fixed on the mountain. "This is no mere beast," he muttered, more to himself than to those around him. "It fights with the land itself. A calculated defense, designed to break us before we even reach it." One of his knights, bloodied but alive, rode up beside him. "My lord, we must retreat! This terrain¡ªthis enemy¡ªwe''re at a disadvantage!" Geisler''s eyes narrowed, and he turned to the knight with a look that could freeze fire. "Retreat? Do you suggest we run like cowards? Like prey?" His voice was cold and cutting. "My son''s blood demands vengeance, and I will not leave until the one responsible is dead." "But the losses, my lord¡ª" "Losses are the cost of war!" Geisler snapped, his voice rising. "Do not speak to me of cost while my son lies broken and cold! We will press on!" The knight swallowed hard and nodded, though his hands trembled as he tightened his grip on the reins. Another CRACK drew their attention upward just in time to see yet another massive boulder plummeting toward them. "MOVE!" Geisler barked, spurring his horse forward. The knights scattered, but the rock still claimed another victim, flattening horse and rider in a sickening explosion of blood and flesh. As they drew closer to the mountain, the barrage intensified. The boulders seemed to come from every direction now, as if the mountain itself had become an instrument of death. "Keep pushing forward!" Geisler commanded, his voice unwavering despite the chaos. "The creature is watching us¡ªtesting us. We must not falter!" But even as he spoke, another cluster of rocks came crashing down, killing four more knights in one horrifying moment. Blood coated the ground, the air thick with the smell of iron and the acrid stench of fear. The knights'' numbers dwindled, their once-proud formation reduced to a desperate, panicked scramble. And then, as they neared the base of the mountain, the rumbling grew louder, deeper, like the growl of some ancient beast. Geisler pulled his horse to a stop, raising a hand to halt what remained of his cavalry. His eyes narrowed as he stared up at the mountain, where the falling rocks had momentarily ceased. "Steady," he murmured, his voice low but firm. The ground beneath them began to tremble, and the knights looked around in alarm. "What now?" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible over the growing rumble. And then, from above, the largest boulder yet broke free, hurtling toward them with terrifying speed. "FORWARD!" Geisler roared, his sword raised high. "FACE IT WITH COURAGE OR DIE WITH COWARDICE!" The knights surged ahead, their fear seemed to be outweighed by their loyalty-or perhaps their terror of their Baron''s wrath. The mountain''s trap had been set, and they had no choice but to meet it head-on. Chapter 221 - 221: Rock throw At the top of the mountain, Volk stood like a hulking god of destruction. The jagged peaks framed his monstrous silhouette, the faint glow of his gauntlet casting eerie green light across the craggy terrain. His wide grin revealed sharp teeth, and his eyes gleamed with exhilaration as he surveyed the chaos below. The sound of clattering hooves and panicked screams echoed up to him, filling his ears with a symphony of fear and carnage. "Hah!" Volk roared, his laughter rumbling like thunder. "You puny fools dare to chase me? Then have a taste of the mountain''s wrath!" With that, he crouched low, his massive hands gripping the edges of a boulder larger than any man. He strained for a moment, the muscles in his arms bulging as he heaved it upward. The gauntlet on his hand glowed brighter, humming with energy that seemed to pour strength into his every fiber. "Take this!" he bellowed, lifting the boulder above his head. He turned to look down at the figures scrambling below, their spears and armor glinting like ants scurrying from fire. Volk let out an earth-shaking roar and hurled the boulder over the edge. It tumbled through the air, spinning with terrifying momentum before it slammed into the ground with an earth-shaking BOOM! The impact shattered stone and sent dirt spraying in all directions. From the distance, he could hear the cries of terror as the cavalry scrambled to avoid the deadly projectiles. "Ha! Run, little worms!" Volk shouted, his voice booming like a war drum. "But you can''t escape the mountain''s fury!" He turned to grab another boulder, this one slightly smaller but just as deadly. "Think you''re safe? Think again!" He launched it with a grunt, the boulder soaring through the air like a missile. It struck a group of knights attempting to regroup. Their screams were brief as the stone smashed into them, leaving only broken bodies and twisted armor in its wake. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "BOOM!" The sound of impact sent a thrill through Volk''s massive frame. "Yes! That''s what I''m talking about!" he roared, his laughter echoing across the mountain. He slammed his fist into the ground, grabbing another rock. His hands worked with reckless speed, the gauntlet amplifying his strength beyond anything he had ever felt. "More! More!" Volk growled, his voice thick with exhilaration. "Let''s see how many of you are left after this!" He hurled another boulder, his scream louder and fiercer this time. The sheer force of his throw caused the rock to crack in mid-air, sending shards raining down like deadly shrapnel. "CRACK-THUD-BOOM!" Below, the knights tried to shield themselves, but it was futile. The shards tore through armor, flesh, and bone, leaving behind a crimson mist that hung in the air. "Come on, you cowards!" Volk taunted, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his booming voice. "Is this the best your so-called Baron can muster? A bunch of tin men squished under rocks? Pathetic!" Grinning wickedly, he grabbed yet another boulder, this one jagged and uneven. "Here''s a special one for your Baron! Let''s see him dodge this!" He lifted the rock with ease and slammed it down on the cliff''s edge, sending it careening down the slope with terrifying speed. The boulder smashed into a tree on its way down, splitting the trunk in two before hurtling toward the knights. The resulting crash was deafening, the ground shaking violently under the force of the impact. "BOOOOM!" Volk planted his hands on his hips, surveying the destruction with satisfaction. His breath came in heavy, steaming gusts, but he wasn''t tired. No, the gauntlet thrummed with energy, invigorating him with every throw. "This is fun!" Volk shouted to the heavens, his voice echoing into the vast sky. He picked up another stone and held it aloft, admiring its weight. "Think you can climb this mountain? Think again!" He tossed the boulder with a wild laugh, this time aiming for the cavalry''s rear. The stone crashed into their ranks, scattering horses and men like ragdolls. "BOOM! CRUNCH!" "Hah! Right on target!" Volk bellowed, his chest heaving with laughter. He slapped his knee with a resounding THWACK before grabbing yet another boulder. "I should charge you worms for this show!" The more he threw, the louder his screams became, each throw fueled by the exhilaration of destruction. He launched rock after rock, each one landing with devastating accuracy. "Take this!" he roared, the veins in his neck bulging as he hurled another stone. "...And this!" "...And THIS!" Each word was punctuated by the crash of stone meeting earth, the screams of knights, and the clatter of metal. The mountain''s base had become a graveyard of shattered boulders and mangled bodies. The longer Volk threw, the more frenzied his laughter became. His muscles burned with the sweet ache of exertion, and the gauntlet hummed in harmony with his chaotic energy. "Let''s see you climb now!" Volk bellowed, throwing his arms wide as if daring the cavalry to defy him. "Come on! Show me what you''ve got!" But even as he taunted them, the knights below faltered. Their once-determined march had become a desperate scramble for survival. For every step they took closer to the mountain, Volk sent them reeling back with another rain of death. Satisfied with the carnage, Volk planted his hands on his hips and surveyed the battlefield. Blood, broken armor, and the bodies of fallen knights littered the base of the mountain. The surviving cavalry was scattered, their formation shattered beyond repair. Volk wiped the sweat from his brow carefully, his gauntleted hand moving with precision to avoid scratching himself. "Well, that was a good workout," he muttered, smirking to himself. Then, with a deep breath, he readied himself for whatever chaos would come next. "Time to see if they''ve got any fight left in them." Volk flinched slightly as the arrow struck the rock mere inches from where he stood, embedding itself with a sharp THUNK! He blinked, then slowly turned his head to look at the quivering projectile. For a moment, there was silence, save for the faint whistling of the mountain winds. "Well, well," Volk muttered, his lips curling into a toothy grin. He crouched next to the arrow, examining it like a predator sizing up its prey. "Looks like they''ve got some fight left in them after all. Hah! That''s more like it!" Straightening up, Volk turned his gaze downhill, his eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield below. Among the broken boulders and crushed bodies, he spotted a handful of knights regrouping behind their shields. One of them¡ªa wiry figure with a bow¡ªnocked another arrow and aimed upward, his posture trembling but determined. Volk''s grin widened into a full-blown snarl. "You dare shoot at me?!" he bellowed, his voice booming across the mountain. "Good! Let''s see how long you last!" Another arrow whistled through the air. Volk''s sharp eyes tracked its path with ease. He didn''t move until the last second, sidestepping gracefully as the arrow zipped past his shoulder. THUNK! It embedded itself into another rock behind him. "Hah! Missed me!" Volk taunted, slapping his knee with a resounding THWACK! "You''re gonna need a lot more than sticks to take me down!" Without missing a beat, Volk grabbed a jagged boulder the size of a wagon wheel. The gauntlet on his hand pulsed with energy as he hefted it above his head, the veins in his arms bulging with raw power. "Catch this!" he roared, launching the massive rock downhill with terrifying force. Chapter 222 - 222: Fight back The boulder soared through the air like a meteor, spinning wildly before slamming into the ground with a deafening BOOOM! The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the earth, shattering smaller rocks and kicking up a cloud of dust. The knights scattered, shouting in panic as debris rained down around them. "Keep shooting, cowards!" Volk yelled, grabbing another boulder with a gleeful laugh. "Let''s see if you can hit me before I crush every single one of you!" An arrow zipped past his ear, so close he could hear the whoosh of its flight. Volk turned his head, his grin unfaltering. "Nice try!" he called out, waving mockingly at the archer. He hurled another rock, this one smaller but faster. It shot through the air like a cannonball, slamming into a shield wall and sending knights sprawling. CRACK! BOOM! "Hah! Down you go!" Volk shouted, pounding his fist against his chest. Another arrow came flying toward him, this time aiming for his face. Volk didn''t bother dodging; he tilted his head slightly, letting the arrow glance off the thick skin of his temple. PING! The arrow splintered on impact, falling harmlessly to the ground. Volk burst out laughing. "Is that all you''ve got?!" he roared. "You think these little toothpicks can stop me?!" He grabbed two smaller rocks, one in each hand, and hurled them in quick succession. The first rock struck a knight directly, shattering his shield and sending him flying. The second rock smashed into the ground near the archer, forcing him to dive for cover. "Run, little worms!" Volk bellowed, his laughter echoing across the mountain. "Or better yet, keep trying! I''m just getting started!" Another volley of arrows came his way, this time from multiple archers. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he tracked their trajectories. With a sudden burst of movement, he leapt to the side, rolling across the rocky terrain with surprising agility for someone his size. WHOOSH! WHOOSH! THUNK! The arrows struck the ground where he had been standing moments earlier. Volk rose to his feet, brushing dirt off his shoulder with exaggerated nonchalance. "Missed again!" he jeered. "You''re gonna need to do better than that!" He grabbed another boulder, this one smooth and round. "Here, let me show you how it''s done!" he said, chuckling darkly. He spun in place once, twice, building momentum before releasing the rock with a mighty heave. The boulder arced through the air, its shadow passing over the terrified knights below. BOOM! It landed with catastrophic force, shattering into countless pieces that rained down like shrapnel. The screams of the knights below only fueled Volk''s energy. "More! More!" Volk shouted, his voice cracking with excitement. "Come on! Show me what else you''ve got!" Another arrow came flying toward him, this time aiming for his chest. Volk caught it mid-air with a loud SNAP! sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He examined the broken shaft in his hand, chuckling to himself before tossing it aside. "Pathetic!" he spat. "You''re not even trying!" Grabbing a cluster of smaller stones, Volk began pelting them downhill in rapid succession, each throw accompanied by a wild shout. "Take this!" CRACK! "And this!" THUD! "And don''t forget this one!" WHAM! The knights below were in utter chaos, their ranks crumbling under the relentless assault. Some tried to flee, others desperately fired arrows in a last-ditch effort to slow him down. Volk dodged and weaved, more for his own amusement than out of necessity. "Hah! You call that aim?!" he taunted, leaping onto a higher ledge for a better vantage point. "I''ve seen blind goblins shoot straighter than you!" The mountain seemed to come alive under Volk''s onslaught. Rocks rained down in an unrelenting barrage, the ground below littered with shattered stone and broken bodies. Volk stood tall at the peak, his laughter echoing like thunder as he reveled in the chaos. "You wanted to play with the mountain?" he roared. "Well, the mountain plays back!" ¡­ The knights were frantic, their once-proud ranks now a scattered, disheveled mess under the relentless onslaught of boulders raining from above. Arrows flew upward, whistling through the air with desperation rather than precision, each one arcing high before losing momentum and falling uselessly back to the earth. "Keep firing!" shouted one of the knights, his voice cracking with strain. "We just need one lucky shot!" The others obeyed, drawing their bows and loosing arrows as fast as their trembling hands would allow. The sky above them seemed to shimmer with the flurry of arrows, but not a single one reached its mark. Instead, gravity turned their defiance into futility, dragging their shafts down to bounce harmlessly off the rocky slopes or lodge themselves in the dirt. "It''s no use!" cried another knight, his voice filled with panic. "The mountain''s too steep! The arrows can''t even reach him!" "Shut your mouth!" barked a senior knight, his face red with exertion. "Aim higher! If we can get him in the eye or¡ª" BOOM! Another massive boulder came crashing down, obliterating the very spot where the senior knight had been standing moments earlier. His body was flung sideways like a ragdoll, the metal of his armor screeching as it scraped against the rocks. The other knights screamed, some diving for cover, others frozen in shock. "Sir Drelan''s gone!" one of them shouted, his voice trembling. "What do we do?! What do we do?!" "We hold formation!" barked another, trying to rally his comrades. "We''re knights of the Barony! We don''t break!" But their formation had already crumbled. Fear was a poison spreading rapidly through their ranks, infecting even the most seasoned soldiers. Each thundering impact from above only tightened its grip on their hearts. "Damn that creature!" one of the archers spat, his hands shaking as he nocked another arrow. "It''s playing with us!" The archer loosed his shot, only to watch it veer wildly off course and plummet to the ground far short of its target. "Why won''t these damn arrows reach?!" he snarled, throwing his bow down in frustration. "It''s the mountain!" another knight shouted. "The incline''s too steep! The gravity''s against us!" "Then what the hell are we supposed to do?!" The panic was palpable now, a feverish cacophony of voices and clattering armor. Some knights tried to regroup, others looked to the Baron for orders, their eyes pleading for guidance. Baron Geisler stood apart from the chaos, his cold gaze fixed on the peak of the mountain. Even as boulders crashed down around him and his men fell to their deaths, he remained unnervingly composed. "He''s taunting us," the Baron muttered to himself, his gloved hand stroking his chin. "That beast thinks itself invincible." Another boulder came hurtling down, striking the earth with such force that it sent a spray of dirt and shattered rock into the air. The knights nearest to it were knocked off their feet, their cries of pain echoing through the valley. "Baron!" one of the knights shouted, scrambling to his feet. "We need to retreat! We can''t fight him like this!" "Retreat?" Baron Geisler''s voice was a low growl, cold and sharp as a blade. He turned to the knight who had spoken, his icy eyes narrowing. "You think retreat is an option?" The knight faltered under the Baron''s gaze, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for words. "Our arrows can''t reach him!" another knight interjected. "We''ll all be crushed before we can even get close!" Baron Geisler said nothing at first. Instead, he reached into a pouch at his side, his fingers brushing against the weathered parchment of an old scroll. He pulled it out, holding it aloft for all to see. The knights fell silent, their eyes widening as they recognized the artifact. "The creature thinks it can mock us," the Baron said, his voice calm but laced with a quiet fury. "It thinks it can slaughter my son, destroy my men, and hide behind its mountain like a coward." He unrolled the scroll, the ancient runes etched into its surface glowing faintly in the dim light. "Well," the Baron continued, his lips curling into a thin smile. "Let''s see how it fares when the mountain itself turns against it." Chapter 223 - 223: Not very effective The knights exchanged uneasy glances. "Baron," one of them ventured cautiously, "are you sure that''s wise? The power of that scroll¡ª" "¡ªis exactly what we need," Geisler interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "This is no ordinary enemy. If we hesitate, we''re as good as dead." He turned his attention back to the peak of the mountain, where the monstrous figure of Volk could just be glimpsed through the clouds of dust and falling debris. "Enjoy your high ground while you can, creature," the Baron murmured. "Because I''m about to bring it crashing down." With a flourish, he held the scroll out in front of him and began to chant the incantation inscribed upon it. The air around him seemed to ripple, the temperature dropping sharply as a strange energy filled the valley. The knights watched in stunned silence as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. "What''s happening?!" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible over the rising hum of magic. The Baron''s chant grew louder, the runes on the scroll glowing brighter with each passing second. "Brace yourselves!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the growing cacophony. "The mountain is about to awaken!" ¡­ At the top of the mountain, Volk had just heaved another boulder down the slope with a resounding grunt, sending it careening toward the panicked cavalry below. The echo of its impact brought a wicked grin to his face. "Another one bites the dust!" he roared, slamming his massive hands together. The gauntlet on his arm hummed faintly, resonating with his excitement. "Come on, puny humans! Is that all you''ve got?" But then, something strange began to happen. The earth beneath his feet gave the faintest shudder, so subtle at first that he barely noticed it. Volk paused mid-motion, his sharp eyes narrowing as he glanced down at the rocky terrain. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Hmm?" he muttered, scratching the side of his tusked jaw. "What''s this?" The tremor returned, stronger this time. Small pebbles and bits of dirt around him began to shift, sliding ever so slightly down the incline. Volk frowned, standing to his full height and planting his feet firmly. Another quake. And this time, it wasn''t just a shudder¡ªit was a deep, guttural vibration that seemed to pulse through the mountain itself. Loose rocks tumbled down the slope, creating a cascade that grew in size and volume with every second. "What in the name of the Horde?" Volk growled, his voice a low rumble. He glanced over his shoulder at the horizon, half-expecting some colossal beast to emerge from the distance. But there was nothing¡ªjust the endless stretch of sky and the distant peaks of other mountains. The ground bucked beneath him again, more violently this time. Volk staggered slightly, his massive frame adjusting instinctively to the shifting terrain. He crouched low, spreading his arms for balance. "Okay, this is new," he muttered, his eyes darting around. "Did I hit something I wasn''t supposed to? Some kind of underground monster, maybe?" The tremors grew in intensity, shaking the very foundations of the mountain. Deep cracks began to spiderweb across the surface of the rocks, splitting the ground around Volk into jagged fissures. Dust and debris filled the air, creating a thick, choking cloud that obscured his vision. Volk coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. "What the hell is this?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the chaos. "Some kind of magic trick?" Another violent quake nearly sent him to his knees, and Volk let out a low growl of frustration. He slammed a massive fist into the ground, steadying himself. "Enough of this nonsense!" he roared, his voice booming like thunder. "If you''re trying to scare me, you''re wasting your time!" The tremors intensified further, now accompanied by an eerie, low-pitched hum that seemed to emanate from deep within the mountain. Volk''s sharp ears perked up, and his expression darkened. "Ah," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "So that''s what this is." He stood up straight, brushing the dust off his shoulders as though the mountain itself wasn''t in the midst of tearing itself apart. "They think they can scare me?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "These puny humans with their fancy tricks? What a joke." The mountain bucked again, and a massive boulder dislodged from a nearby cliff, crashing down mere feet from where Volk stood. The impact sent a shower of sharp rocks flying in every direction, but Volk didn''t even flinch. Instead, he threw his head back and let out a booming laugh that echoed across the peaks. "Is that all you''ve got?!" he roared, his voice dripping with mockery. "A few shakes and a little dust? You''re going to have to try harder than that!" He stomped his foot down, the ground beneath him cracking even further. "I''m not some fragile little human who''ll cower at the first sign of trouble!" Volk shouted, slamming his fists together. "I am an OOOORC!" The gauntlet on his arm flared to life, its green metallic glow cutting through the dust-filled air. Volk raised his arm high, clenching his fist as the energy within the gauntlet surged. "You think you can break me with your pathetic tricks?!" he bellowed, his voice filled with both fury and glee. "This mountain is my throne! And you''re just worms crawling at its base!" Another tremor rippled through the ground, but Volk stood firm, his feet planted like the roots of an ancient tree. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he looked out over the chaos with a glint of savage delight in his eyes. "Come on, then!" he roared, his voice shaking the very air. "Let''s see what else you''ve got! I''m not going anywhere!" ¡­ Below the trembling mountain, Baron Geisler stood among his knights, his face a mask of cold fury. Dust and debris rained down from above as the rumbling quakes slowly began to subside. His grip on the reins of his horse tightened, the leather creaking under the pressure of his gloved fingers. His jaw was set, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burned with barely restrained anger. The knights around him were less composed. Some coughed through the settling dust, their faces pale with fear and exhaustion. Others looked nervously toward the looming peak, their hands gripping weapons that suddenly felt inadequate. "Is¡­ is it over?" one of the younger knights stammered, his voice trembling. Another knight, an older veteran with a scar running down his cheek, spat onto the ground. "Over? That thing isn''t done with us yet." Baron Geisler remained silent, his eyes fixed on the mountain. The faint sounds of boulders crashing and Volk''s distant laughter still echoed down to them, a mocking reminder of their failure. One of the knights mustered the courage to approach the Baron, bowing his head slightly as he spoke. "My lord, the low-level scroll¡­ it didn''t work. The creature¡ª" Geisler''s gaze snapped to the knight, his icy glare cutting him off mid-sentence. The knight immediately fell silent, taking a step back as the weight of the Baron''s disappointment bore down on him. "Of course, it didn''t work," Geisler said, his voice low and venomous. He dismounted his horse with deliberate precision, his boots crunching against the rocky ground as he landed. "I was a fool to think such a paltry thing could faze that beast." Chapter 224 - 224: Pain The knights exchanged uneasy glances, their fear of the Baron outweighing their terror of the creature above. Geisler straightened his coat, brushing off imaginary dust as he paced in front of his men. "Do you know what separates us from the monsters we hunt?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with disdain. The knights remained silent, their eyes following him as he walked. "Preparation," Geisler continued, his tone sharpening. "Intelligence. Strategy. These are the tools of civilization, the tools of power. And yet, here we are, fumbling in the dirt like peasants, hoping a single scroll would save us from our incompetence." He stopped abruptly, turning to face his men. "That creature killed my son," he said, his voice rising slightly. "It crushed him like an insect and laughed as it did so. Do you think it will show any of you mercy?" sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The knights lowered their heads, shame and fear etched into their faces. Geisler''s lips curled into a sneer. "Pathetic." He reached into the pouch at his side, pulling out a bundle of rolled parchment tied with golden ribbons. The knights'' eyes widened as they recognized the intricate designs etched into the scrolls¡ªhigh-level magic, the kind reserved for only the most dire of circumstances. "My lord¡­" one of the knights began, his voice shaky. "Are those¡ª" "Yes," Geisler snapped, cutting him off. "These are not the toys I entrusted to my fool of a son. These are tools of destruction, forged by the finest mages of the kingdom. Tools worthy of dealing with a creature like this." He unfurled one of the scrolls, the magical symbols glowing faintly in the dim light. The knights recoiled slightly as a wave of energy radiated from it, the sheer power almost tangible. "But¡­ seven of them?" another knight dared to ask, his voice barely above a whisper. Geisler turned to him, his expression cold. "Do you think one will be enough?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "This is not some wild beast you can bring down with arrows and swords. This is a monster¡ªa threat to my barony, to my name, to my legacy." He rolled the scroll back up with a snap, tucking it securely into his belt. "If I must raze this entire mountain to ash, so be it. Let the creature see the might of a true noble. Let it understand what it means to cross Baron Geisler." The knights stared at him, a mixture of awe and terror in their eyes. "My lord," one of them said cautiously. "If these scrolls are used together¡­ the destruction could be¡ª" "¡ªnecessary," Geisler interrupted, his voice hard as steel. "Do you question my judgment, knight? Do you think you know better than I how to avenge my son and protect this barony?" The knight quickly shook his head, stepping back into the crowd. Geisler took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Enough talk," he said, his tone final. "Prepare yourselves. We march on that mountain, and we will not stop until that creature lies broken at my feet." As the knights began to organize, their fear temporarily overshadowed by their leader''s commanding presence, Geisler turned his gaze back to the mountain. He reached down, brushing his fingers over the hilt of his sword. His voice dropped to a near-whisper, but the venom in his words was unmistakable. "Let''s see if these scrolls aren''t enough to bring that beast to its knees." Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet trembled again, this time accompanied by a low, ominous rumble. All heads turned toward the mountain as a cascade of boulders began to tumble down the slopes once more. Geisler smirked. "It knows we''re coming." ¡­ At the summit of the rocky mountain, Volk''s deep, guttural laughter echoed through the jagged peaks. He hurled another boulder down the slope, his grin stretching wide as he imagined the chaos it caused below. Each throw brought him immense satisfaction. His voice boomed, mocking the humans below. "Come on! Is that all you''ve got? You''re supposed to be warriors!" he bellowed, his voice filled with mockery. "I am Volk, the Orc! Your arrows? Feh! Your spells? Feh! Bring me a real fight!" But then, his laughter abruptly stopped. His ears twitched, catching something faint but unusual. The air around him felt heavy, charged. A low hum vibrated through the atmosphere, and Volk''s keen instincts picked up a sudden shift in the sky. He glanced up, his grin faltering. Dark clouds had gathered unnaturally fast, swirling above the mountain like a vortex of doom. The air crackled with energy, and a flash of light illuminated the sky. A split second later, a thunderous CRACK echoed, and a bolt of lightning slammed into the ground mere feet from where Volk stood. Volk''s grin returned, though it was more cautious this time. "Oh, so now we''re playing with storms, huh?" he muttered, flexing his fingers within the radioactive gauntlet. Before he could taunt further, another bolt struck, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. The impact jolted him, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his massive frame. He staggered back slightly, shaking off the sting. "Ha! Is that the best you''ve got?" he roared, pounding his chest defiantly. "That''s nothing! Just a shoulder jab!" But the storm wasn''t done. Another bolt, brighter and more vicious than the last, came down with pinpoint accuracy, slamming into his back. Volk growled, the pain sharper this time. A third bolt followed, then a fourth, and then they came in rapid succession. CRACK! BOOM! CRACKLE! Each strike sent a wave of searing pain through him, like red-hot needles piercing his thick hide. Volk gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out, but the relentless assault was beginning to wear him down. His muscles twitched involuntarily, and the faint smell of singed flesh began to waft in the air. "Alright, this is starting to get annoying," he growled, shaking his head as another bolt slammed into his side, forcing him to one knee. He glanced at the gauntlet, half-expecting it to shield him somehow, but it offered no reprieve from the storm''s wrath. The sky flashed again, and a massive bolt descended, striking him directly in the chest. Volk let out a guttural roar, the pain intense enough to make him stumble. His breathing grew heavier, the electricity coursing through him leaving faint burns along his exposed skin. "Pain¡­," he muttered to himself, his voice low and almost contemplative. "This is pain¡­ real pain." He tried to rise, only for another bolt to strike his leg, forcing him down again. The mountain shook under the ferocity of the storm, debris tumbling around him. Volk''s mind raced, the unrelenting strikes finally making him consider the gravity of his situation. "These puny humans¡­" he muttered, his voice filled with both anger and admiration. "They actually found a way to hurt me." The bolts showed no sign of stopping, each one more powerful than the last. Volk could feel the weight of the storm pressing down on him, as if the heavens themselves were trying to crush him. His breaths came in ragged bursts, his body trembling under the relentless onslaught. "What should I do now?" he mumbled to himself, glancing around as if the rocky terrain might offer a solution. His mind, usually consumed by battle lust, was now forced to think. "I ain''t gonna dodge these forever¡­ but what''s the plan, Volk? You''re not dying here. Not to a damn storm." Another bolt struck him, and Volk clenched his fists, his glowing gauntlet pulsing faintly as if reacting to his frustration. But for the first time in a long while, the mighty Orc was unsure. Chapter 225 - 225: Rampage The storm raged above like an enraged deity, lightning striking the summit with unrelenting fury. Each bolt exploded into the ground with ear-splitting cracks, sending showers of debris into the air. The once-quiet mountain now roared with chaos, a battlefield between man-made magic and the indomitable force of Volk, the Orc. Volk crouched low, his feet planted firmly on the trembling stone. His breathing was heavy, and faint scorch marks covered his dark, muscular frame. Steam rose from his shoulders where lightning had struck him moments before. His radioactive gauntlet glowed faintly, the greenish hue pulsating like a heartbeat. "Give me more!" Volk roared into the storm, his voice a guttural boom that matched the thunder. He grabbed a nearby boulder, its jagged edges digging into his palms. With a grunt, he heaved it over his head. The muscles in his arms rippled, veins bulging as if his body itself rebelled against the storm. "Here! TAKE THIS!" His shout reverberated off the mountainside. With a mighty throw, he hurled the boulder into the tempest below. It tore through the air, whistling violently as it descended. The impact was deafening¡ªa bone-rattling BOOM! as the boulder slammed into the slope, scattering rocks and crushing anything in its path. But Volk didn''t stop. He was relentless. Grabbing another stone, he repeated the process. Each throw was faster, harder, more brutal than the last. His movements became a violent rhythm, his body an unstoppable machine of destruction. He alternated between taunting the soldiers below and laughing maniacally as his projectiles sent panic through their ranks. The mountain groaned beneath his feet as Volk''s fury intensified. Every boulder he threw dislodged more rocks, sending cascades of debris tumbling down the slope. The air was filled with the sharp CRACK of breaking stone and the terrified shouts of the knights below. --- S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Down the slope, the chaos was palpable. Knights shouted over the din, their once-disciplined formation devolving into disarray. "Hold your ground!" one shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the constant THUD of falling rocks. A massive boulder struck the ground near the knights, sending up a cloud of dust and shards of stone. One unfortunate soldier wasn''t quick enough. The boulder struck him square in the chest, the impact crushing his armor like paper. His scream was short-lived, replaced by the sickening CRUNCH of metal and bone. "Sir! We''re losing too many men!" another knight yelled, his voice tinged with panic. Baron Geisler''s face was a mask of fury. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the battlefield. The stormlight flickered across his weathered features, making him look like a vengeful wraith. "We''ve come too far to turn back!" he barked. His voice cut through the chaos like a whip. "This beast killed my son! We will not falter now!" The knights exchanged uneasy glances. Their Baron''s resolve was undeniable, but the reality of their situation was grim. "Keep firing!" Geisler commanded. "I don''t care if it takes every arrow in your quivers. Bring that monster down!" The archers obeyed, their hands trembling as they nocked arrows onto their bows. The sky above them groaned as another boulder soared through the air, its shadow briefly darkening their ranks. "Loose!" shouted an officer. Arrows filled the air, whistling as they soared toward the mountain''s summit. But the ascent and the storm conspired against them. Most arrows fell short, clattering uselessly against the rocks. --- Above, Volk smirked. He watched the arrows fall harmlessly around him. Occasionally, one came close, embedding itself in the ground nearby with a dull THUNK. Volk ignored them, his confidence unshaken. "Is that all you''ve got?" he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery. He grabbed a particularly massive boulder, its size requiring both hands to lift. His muscles strained, his breath coming in sharp bursts as he hoisted the enormous rock above his head. "Let''s see you dodge THIS!" he roared, his voice merging with the thunder. With a heave, he sent the boulder plummeting down the slope. It bounced and tumbled with devastating force, striking the earth with a BOOM that reverberated for miles. Volk leaned forward, his keen eyes watching as the boulder obliterated a group of knights who had been too slow to scatter. Their screams were short-lived, drowned out by the roar of the impact. He laughed, the sound deep and cruel. "Run, little humans! Run while you still can!" But as he turned to grab another rock, something caught his attention. Suddenly, a single arrow struck the stone near his feet with a sharp TWANG. Volk froze, his glowing eyes narrowing. "Well, well," he muttered, kicking the arrow aside. "Looks like you''re finally trying." More arrows followed, a relentless volley that forced Volk to move. He sidestepped one, ducked under another, and swatted a third out of the air with his gauntlet-covered hand. The gauntlet''s green glow intensified with each deflection, feeding on the kinetic energy. Volk grinned, his tusks gleaming in the stormlight. "Is that all you''ve got?!" he roared, his voice filled with mocking glee. The archers below adjusted their aim, their frustration evident. They shot faster, their arrows coming in tighter clusters. But Volk was nimble despite his size. He dodged and weaved, his movements almost graceful for someone so massive. When an arrow came close to his face, he caught it mid-air, snapping it in half with a sharp SNAP. "Nice try!" he sneered. The fight continued, growing fiercer by the second. Volk''s laughter echoed across the battlefield as he resumed his assault, hurling rocks with renewed vigor. Each throw was accompanied by a shout, his voice booming with energy. "Take this!" he yelled, launching a boulder that crashed into a cluster of knights, sending them flying like ragdolls. "And this!" Another rock followed, its impact shaking the ground. The knights below were in chaos. Their formations were shattered, their morale dwindling with every strike. "Hold your ground!" Baron Geisler shouted, his voice a beacon of authority. The knights rallied, their discipline returning despite the overwhelming odds. But even as they fought to regroup, the storm and the Orc continued to batter them relentlessly. On the mountain, Volk felt the ground tremble. It was subtle at first, a faint vibration beneath his feet. But it grew stronger with each passing moment. Volk paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked around. The storm still raged above, but this new sensation was different. It was unnatural. "What now?" he muttered, his voice low. The trembling intensified, the rocks around him shifting slightly. Volk''s instincts kicked in, and he crouched low, his massive frame tensing like a coiled spring. "Trying another something new, are you?" he said, a smirk returning to his lips. But even as he mocked, his senses remained sharp. He could feel the change in the air, the weight of something unknown pressing down on him. The ground beneath his feet shifted suddenly, a low rumble emanating from deep within the mountain. Volk''s smirk faltered, replaced by a look of wary curiosity. "Interesting¡­" he murmured, his glowing eyes scanning the terrain. The rumbling grew louder, a deep, resonant GRRRRRRRR that seemed to come from the mountain itself. Volk''s grin returned, wider and more menacing than before. He cracked his knuckles, the gauntlet glowing brighter in response. "Alright, humans," he said, his voice dripping with anticipation. "I don''t like the lightning, so I''ll end this now." Chapter 226 - 226: Rock mountain Blast The mountain trembled under Volk''s fury as he raised his massive gauntlet high above his head. The air was thick with tension, the storm raging around him, and lightning lashing at his frame with growing intensity. Each bolt slammed into him, CRACK! ZAP! BOOM!, leaving faint scorch marks on his skin. He ignored it all, his focus unyielding. He slammed the gauntlet into the rock below. BOOM! The earth groaned as cracks began to spread outward from the point of impact, snaking like jagged lightning bolts across the mountain''s surface. The sound was deafening, like the roar of a thousand thunderclaps compressed into a single moment. Volk grinned savagely, his tusks gleaming in the chaotic light of the storm. "You want to play with storms, little humans? Let me show you what real power looks like!" Another slam followed. BAAAM! The force sent a wave of rock fragments flying outward, some rolling down the slope while others shot into the air like shrapnel. The ground beneath Volk shuddered violently, as if the mountain itself was recoiling from his raw strength. The storm responded in kind. A bolt of lightning, sharper and brighter than any before, shot down from the heavens, aimed directly at Volk''s back. CRRRAAAACK! It struck him squarely, the impact lighting up the entire peak in an electric-blue glow. Volk let out a grunt of pain, but instead of falling, he straightened up. His eyes glowed brighter, defiant against the storm''s fury. "Is that it?!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the valley. "You''ll have to do better than that!" His gauntlet rose again. He slammed it into the ground with even more force. WHAAAAM! The mountain screamed in protest, large chunks of rock breaking free and tumbling down the slope. Clouds of dust billowed up, mixing with the rain to create a suffocating haze. Volk was relentless. He moved like a beast possessed, slamming the gauntlet down again and again. Each strike grew stronger, the cracks beneath him widening into gaping chasms. His muscles bulged with effort, veins popping against his dark skin as he poured every ounce of strength into his task. Below, the cavalry was in chaos. "Another one! Incoming!" The knights scrambled as massive rocks tumbled down the mountainside, some as large as houses. Each impact shook the ground, sending smaller stones flying like deadly projectiles. A knight cried out as a boulder crushed him, the sickening CRUNCH of metal and bone echoing in the chaos. Another was thrown from his horse as the ground beneath him gave way, his scream cut short by the rumbling of the earth. Baron Geisler''s face was grim, his sharp eyes darting between the mountain and his men. He clenched his fists, cursing under his breath. "Damn it, hold your ground!" he roared. Above, Volk slammed the gauntlet again. KRAAASH! The force was so powerful that it sent him skidding backward. The ground beneath him buckled, large slabs of stone tilting and sliding as the mountain began to give way. Volk steadied himself, planting his feet firmly on the unstable surface. The lightning strikes intensified, ZAP! BOOM! ZAP!, each one brighter and louder than the last. They hit him relentlessly, the pain growing sharper with each bolt. His body ached, but Volk''s grin never faltered. "This is nothing!" he roared, his voice cutting through the storm. "I''ve felt worse from my morning stretches!" With one final roar, Volk raised the gauntlet high. He could feel the energy surging within him, the radioactive glow of the gauntlet pulsating wildly. "Time to end this!" He brought the gauntlet down with all his might. BAAAAAAM! The mountain seemed to explode from within. The ground beneath Volk fractured violently, massive chunks of rock breaking free and hurtling into the air. The entire slope began to collapse, the sound a deafening cacophony of CRASH! BOOM! KRRRRRRAAAAK! Volk stood amidst the chaos, watching with satisfaction as the mountain crumbled around him. But he wasn''t done yet. As the rocks began to fall, Volk leapt into the air, his massive form defying gravity for a brief, exhilarating moment. The wind rushed past him, carrying with it the smell of rain, dirt, and ozone. He reached out and grabbed hold of one of the larger boulders, his fingers digging into its rough surface. For a moment, he hung there, suspended in the air with the falling debris. A wicked grin spread across his face. "Let''s make this interesting." With a roar, Volk twisted his body, using the momentum to swing himself onto the boulder. His feet landed firmly on its surface, and he crouched low, balancing as the massive rock hurtled toward the ground. Below, the knights stared in horror as the shadow of the falling rock¡ªand the monstrous Orc riding it¡ªgrew larger and larger. "What in the¡ª?!" one knight stammered, his voice choked with panic. "Move! Move!" another screamed, yanking on his horse''s reins. Baron Geisler''s eyes widened, but his expression remained steely. "Brace yourselves!" he commanded, though his voice carried an edge of desperation. Volk laughed, the sound booming like thunder. "Here I come, little humans!" The boulder hit the ground with earth-shattering force. KABOOOOOOM! The impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, knocking knights off their feet and causing horses to rear in terror. The ground cracked and splintered, creating a crater where the boulder had landed. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk stood in the center of the destruction, his massive form towering over the chaos. Dust and debris swirled around him, obscuring him for a moment before he stepped forward, his glowing gauntlet cutting through the haze like a beacon of doom. "Round two?" he growled, his eyes locking onto the injured knights. The battlefield grew eerily silent for a moment as Volk''s massive form stood before the cavalry. The ground beneath him seemed to tremble in submission, the weight of his presence alone causing a suffocating tension to spread through the knights. He slowly turned his head, his glowing gauntlet crackling faintly with radioactive energy. His crimson eyes scanned the rows of knights, but it wasn''t their trembling hands or pale faces that caught his attention. It was the man standing at the forefront. Baron Geisler. Volk couldn''t explain it, but something about the man set him on edge. It wasn''t fear¡ªVolk feared nothing¡ªbut a primal instinct flared within him, a whisper that this man, while smaller and weaker than him, posed a unique threat. Was it the sharpness of his gaze? The unwavering way he gripped his weapon? Volk didn''t know, but the feeling gnawed at him. His lip curled into a snarl. "You seem dangerous" he muttered under his breath. "Let''s test that theory." As if the heavens themselves sought to add drama to the scene, a massive boulder suddenly tumbled down the mountain behind Volk. Its descent was chaotic, carving a jagged path through the debris before launching into the air, arcing directly toward him. Volk didn''t flinch. With a smooth motion that belied his immense size, he twisted his body and caught the edge of the boulder with one hand. WHUMP! The force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, but Volk held firm, his muscles bulging as he redirected the massive rock with a casual flick of his wrist. "Let''s see how you handle this!" he roared, hurling the boulder straight at Baron Geisler. The Baron barely had time to react. The massive boulder tore through the air with a deafening WHOOSH, its sheer size blocking out the sun for a brief moment. It struck him square in the chest, lifting him off the ground and sending him hurtling backward in a straight, brutal line. He crashed through the ranks of knights like a cannonball, scattering them like leaves in a storm. His body disappeared into the haze of dust and debris, leaving only the panicked cries of his men behind. "Baron Geisler!" one knight screamed, his voice cracking with despair. "The Baron''s down! What do we do?!" Chapter 227 - 227: Barons power Volk didn''t wait for the knights to regroup. He surged forward, his gauntlet glowing brighter as he closed the distance between himself and the remaining cavalry. The first knight raised his sword, but Volk swatted him aside with a backhanded strike. THWACK! The man flew through the air like a ragdoll, his armor crumpling with a sickening CRUNCH as he collided with the ground. "Hold the line!" another knight shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the chaos. Volk slammed his fist into the earth. BOOM! The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, knocking horses off their feet and sending knights sprawling. "Arrows! Ready the arrows!" a voice screamed. The surviving archers scrambled to nock their arrows, their hands trembling as they drew their bows. A volley was loosed, the air filling with the sharp whizz of projectiles. Volk laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the earth. He raised his gauntlet, letting the arrows bounce harmlessly off its surface. TINK! TINK! TINK! "Your metal weapons means nothing to me," he bellowed, his voice dripping with mockery. "You might as well be throwing twigs!" The knights charged, desperation etched into their faces. Their swords gleamed in the dim light as they closed the distance, shouting battle cries meant to mask their fear. Volk met them head-on. One knight swung his blade in a wide arc, aiming for Volk''s neck. Volk ducked effortlessly, the blade slicing through empty air. Before the knight could recover, Volk grabbed him by the arm and slammed him into the ground. WHAM! Another knight lunged, thrusting his spear toward Volk''s chest. Volk caught the spear mid-thrust, snapping it in half with his bare hands. He grabbed the knight by the helmet and hurled him into a cluster of his comrades. CRASH! The knights began to panic. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "He''s unstoppable!" "Retreat! We need to¡ª" "There''s no retreat! Stand and fight!" But their courage was waning, their once-coordinated attacks devolving into a chaotic frenzy. Volk was a whirlwind of destruction, his gauntlet smashing through shields and armor like they were made of paper. A knight tried to flank him, aiming for his exposed side. Volk spun around, his massive foot connecting with the man''s chest. THUD! The knight was sent flying, his scream fading as he disappeared into the distance. The ground was slick with blood, the once-proud cavalry reduced to a scattering of broken bodies and shattered weapons. Horses neighed in terror, rearing and bucking as their riders were thrown to the ground. Volk stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked down at his gauntlet, the radioactive glow pulsing steadily, as if feeding off the chaos around him. "Is this all you''ve got?" he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. A knight, barely standing, raised his sword one last time. "For the Baron!" he cried, charging with all the strength he could muster. Volk didn''t even bother to move. He caught the sword with his gauntlet, the blade shattering on impact. The knight stared in disbelief before Volk grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. "Tell me," Volk growled, his voice low and menacing. "Was it worth it?" The knight''s only response was a choked gasp before Volk hurled him into the wreckage of his fallen comrades. The battlefield fell silent, the only sound the distant rumble of thunder and the soft crackling of Volk''s gauntlet. He turned, surveying the destruction he had wrought. The cavalry was no more. But the mission was not done yet. Volk cracked his neck, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Pathetic," he muttered, his voice carrying over the lifeless field. "They didn''t even make me sweat." He turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, where the remains of the cavalry''s leader had disappeared. "I hope you''re still alive, little human," he said, his grin widening. "I''m not done with you yet." Suddenly, Volk''s arrogant form of speaking died in his throat, his eyes snapping wide as the air around him crackled with an immense and unfamiliar energy. A faint hum filled the battlefield, growing louder and sharper until it was a deafening screech. Instinct kicked in, and Volk''s muscles coiled like steel springs. "Move!" At the very last moment, Volk shifted his weight and sidestepped, his massive frame defying expectations of speed. The air where he''d stood split open with a blinding flash as a devastating surge of magic ripped through the space. BOOM! The impact tore through the ground, sending shards of earth and rock flying in every direction. The shockwave alone nearly sent Volk stumbling. Behind him, the remnants of the rock mountain weren''t spared. The blast carved through its base, leaving a gaping, smoldering hole that hissed with residual energy. Dust and debris rained down, coating the battlefield in a dense fog. Volk turned toward the source of the attack, his breath heavy with both exertion and surprise. His glowing gauntlet twitched at his side, the radioactive energy humming erratically. From the haze, a voice rang out. It wasn''t just angry¡ªit was seething, dripping with venom and righteous fury. "You filthy, wretched beast," the voice snarled. The fog began to clear, revealing Baron Geisler. His once-polished armor was scuffed and dented, but his posture was unyielding, and his grip on his sword and shield was steady. His face was a mask of controlled rage, his eyes locked onto Volk with a hatred that could burn through steel. "You dare lay your filthy hands on my son? My knights? My legacy?" Volk snorted, though his heart pounded in his chest. "Your son begged for mercy like a coward." He smirked, letting his words drip with mockery. "Your knights are nothing but scraps under my boots." Baron Geisler''s grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles turning white. "My son was a fool, but he was my fool!" His voice cracked like thunder. "You robbed him of his chance to learn! To grow!" The Baron''s shield glimmered faintly, magic coiling around its edges like smoke. "And my knights¡­ they fought for their honor, for their land, and you butchered them as if they were cattle." Volk rolled his shoulders, raising his gauntlet. "Sounds like they got what they deserved." Geisler''s voice dropped, cold and menacing. "You¡­ will pay for their lives, you vile Ogre. Every drop of blood you spilled will be repaid a hundredfold." And with that, he charged. Volk barely had time to react. Baron Geisler moved with the precision and speed of a predator. His sword lashed out in a blinding arc, and Volk brought his gauntlet up just in time. CLANG! The impact sent sparks flying, the sheer force of the blow making Volk''s arm tremble. "What the¡ª" Volk grunted, stepping back. The Baron didn''t let up. He was relentless, each strike of his sword a calculated blow aimed to exploit openings in Volk''s defense. His shield wasn''t just for blocking; he used it like a battering ram, slamming it into Volk''s torso with bone-jarring force. THUD! BANG! SLASH! Volk staggered, the blows coming faster than he could counter. For the first time, he felt a flicker of unease. "This isn''t normal," Volk muttered, dodging a thrust aimed for his neck. "This guy¡­ moves like a strong earth martial artist with swords and shields!" Chapter 228 - 228: Absorb? The fight continued as it became a blur of movement and sound. Volk didn''t know why the system appeared and disappeared once again. It was only brief but he knew it was the system still. With the help of the system! His system! Volk swung his massive fist, aiming for Geisler''s head. The Baron ducked, his shield coming up to block the follow-up punch. CLANG! The force sent Geisler sliding back, but he dug his heels into the ground, refusing to fall. "Not bad," Volk growled, smirking despite himself. "But let''s see how you handle this!" He slammed his gauntlet into the ground. BOOM! The earth cracked and shifted, chunks of rock flying toward Geisler. The Baron leapt into the air, landing gracefully and rolling forward to close the distance. "Your tricks won''t save you, Ogre!" Geisler roared, his sword glowing with a faint, golden light. Volk dodged, sidestepped, and parried, his movements fluid despite his size. But no matter how hard he struck, Geisler met him blow for blow. Volk launched a boulder-sized punch. Geisler deflected it with his shield, the impact ringing out like a gong. BAM! He retaliated with a spinning slash, his sword narrowly missing Volk''s torso. "Why won''t you just die?!" Volk roared, his frustration boiling over. "Because I have a purpose!" Geisler shouted back. His voice was steady, unwavering. "Unlike you, who lives only to destroy!" The fight raged on, each exchange more brutal than the last. Volk grabbed a massive rock and hurled it at Geisler. The Baron raised his shield, the rock shattering into a cloud of debris. CRASH! Before Volk could follow up, Geisler darted forward, his sword flashing in a deadly arc. SLASH! The blade glanced off Volk''s shoulder, drawing blood. Volk snarled, more out of surprise than pain. "You actually hurt me," he muttered, his eyes narrowing. "And I''ll do it again," Geisler replied coldly, his sword steady. For every move Volk made, Geisler had an answer. Volk charged, swinging his gauntlet in a wide arc. Geisler ducked low, slamming his shield into Volk''s knee. WHAM! The blow forced Volk to stagger, and Geisler capitalized, delivering a swift slash to Volk''s side. The fight wasn''t just physical; it was a battle of wills. Volk''s raw power clashed against Geisler''s discipline and technique, the two combatants locked in a deadly dance. The battlefield bore the scars of their struggle-craters, shattered rocks, and bloodstains marked the ground. Volk grinned, wiping blood from his lip. "You''re tough, old man," he admitted. "But you''re just delaying the inevitable." Geisler smirked angrily, his shield raised. "We''ll see who breaks first." S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And with that, they clashed again, the air ringing with the sound of their battle. Volk''s laughter erupted, loud and mocking, echoing across the battlefield like a battle drum. He lunged forward, his massive gauntlet gleaming under the broken sky. His blows rained down like meteors, each strike forcing Baron Geisler to raise his shield in desperate defense. The ground trembled with every collision, sending smaller rocks skittering in every direction. "You and your precious son deserved to die!" Volk roared, his voice carrying a dark, guttural tone that seemed to vibrate through the air. He swung a massive fist, the gauntlet glowing faintly with energy. Geisler raised his shield, bracing himself. BOOM! The impact threw him back several feet, but the Baron dug his heels into the dirt and steadied himself. His shield was dented, the emblem of his family marred, but his grip on it was firm. "You dare speak of deserving?" Geisler spat, his voice laced with fury. He straightened, his sword poised. "My son was a noble, a protector of the realm! What are you? A filthy, murderous beast who crawls out of the dirt to bring ruin!" Volk grinned, his teeth glinting in the dim light. "A protector?" He barked a laugh, the sound dripping with derision. "You call killing your own people for sport protection? Your knights raid villages, slaughter families, and burn homes, all for your twisted entertainment. Why can''t I enjoy killing you the same way you enjoy hunting them?" Geisler''s face twisted in disdain. "Don''t you dare compare those savage, mindless barbarians to the noble men of this kingdom!" he snarled, stepping forward with his blade raised. --- The Baron''s words were venomous, each one spat with vitriolic precision. "Your people are nothing but the same like us beasts!" Geisler roared, his shield raised high. "You pillage, you destroy, and you infest the land with your filth. You don''t build. You don''t create. You only take!" He swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing Volk to step back. CLANG! The blade met the gauntlet, sparks flying. "Barbarians! Vermin!" Geisler continued, his voice growing louder with each syllable. "All of them live in mud and call it a home. They smear dirt on their faces and call it war paint. They are nothing more than animals pretending to be men!" Volk''s smirk faltered. For a brief moment, his eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. The fight escalated, blows exchanged like a relentless storm. Volk growled, his patience thinning. He struck the ground with his gauntlet, sending a shockwave rippling toward Geisler. BOOM! The Baron leapt into the air, avoiding the brunt of the blast. "You talk too much," Volk sneered, throwing a massive punch. Geisler ducked under it, his sword flashing in retaliation. SLASH! The blade glanced off Volk''s side, drawing a thin line of blood. "And you think too little," Geisler retorted, his tone icy. --- Volk laughed again, the sound harsh and wild. "You call them animals, yet you humans are the ones who act like predators. Those people, those human tribes¡ªthey fought to survive. You hunt them for sport, for glory. What''s more savage than that?" "Survival?" Geisler spat, sidestepping another swing of the gauntlet. He slammed his shield into Volk''s chest, forcing the Orc to stumble. "Survival is what cowards and beasts use as an excuse for their crimes! Those two and their kind are too weak to rise above your base instincts, too foolish to understand true honor or civilization!" Volk''s grin returned, sharper than ever. "Honor? Civilization?" He raised his fist high, bringing it down with all his might. CRASH! The ground beneath them cracked and shifted. "What''s honorable about sending knights to slaughter unarmed villagers? What''s civilized about gutting a mother in front of her child? I''m sure there is nothing to deny my accusations!" Geisler''s expression twisted further in rage. "They are nothing! They are pests who infest the fringes of the kingdom. Their lives are worth less than the dirt beneath your feet!" Volk snarled, his fist flying toward Geisler''s head. The Baron brought his shield up just in time. BANG! The force of the blow sent him skidding back, but he didn''t fall. "Say that again," Volk growled, his voice low, amused and dangerous. "They. Are. Nothing," Geisler hissed, his eyes burning with hatred. The battle surged into chaos, the tension thick enough to choke the air. Volk''s blows came faster and harder, each one a thunderclap that shook the battlefield. BOOM! CRACK! THUD! Geisler matched him step for step, his shield absorbing the relentless attacks while his sword sought openings in Volk''s defenses. The knights watched in stunned silence, too afraid to intervene. Volk''s breathing grew heavier, his muscles burning with exertion. But he couldn''t stop. Not now. Geisler''s face was flushed, sweat dripping down his temples. But his resolve was unshaken. "You can''t win," he said, his voice steady. "You''re just a brute, swinging blindly in the dark." Volk grinned, his gauntlet glowing faintly. "Maybe. But I''m a brute with a mission." Suddenly, Volk faltered. His vision flickered, and a faint glow appeared before him. A system screen materialized, its edges shimmering with light. Ding! | Absorb? | The single word floated in the air, its meaning clear but its implications unknown. Volk''s eyes narrowed. He had no idea what this was¡ªor why it was appearing now. "What the hell¡­?" he muttered under his breath, his fists still clenched. Geisler saw the flicker of hesitation and prepared to strike again. The battle wasn''t over, but he somehow felt that something had changed. Something neither of them could yet understand. Chapter 229 - 229: Some Tricks The fight continued as it became a blur of movement and sound. Volk didn''t know why the system appeared and disappeared once again. It was only brief but he knew it was the system still. With the help of the system! His system! Soon, another clash commenced! Like earlier, another glowing screen hovered before Volk''s eyes, pulsing faintly as if mocking his confusion. Ding! | Absorb? | The single word hung in the air, daring him to act, but Volk hesitated. His thick fingers twitched, the gauntlet humming faintly as if in anticipation. "What in the hell does that really mean?" Volk growled under his breath, his tone a low rumble like distant thunder. He squinted at the screen, but its meaning remained elusive. He scanned the battlefield around him, his sharp eyes searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat might explain the prompt. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. He caught no hint of hazardous magic particles, no noxious aura. It made no sense. "What am I supposed to absorb?" he muttered. Baron Geisler, standing a dozen paces away, used the momentary pause to adjust his stance. His battered shield still bore Volk''s hand-shaped dents, and his sword gleamed faintly in the pale light of the storm-filled sky. Volk narrowed his eyes. "You," he muttered, his voice as sharp as the blade aimed at him. "You''re hiding something." Geisler''s lips twisted into a faint smirk. "You''re observant for a beast," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "But it won''t save you." Volk''s massive chest rumbled with laughter. "Oh, I don''t need saving. But you might, little man." The Orc moved first, closing the distance between them in a blur of muscle and rage. His gauntlet hummed as it swung, the air cracking under its weight. WHOOOSH! Geisler sidestepped, his movement precise and efficient. The gauntlet smashed into the ground where he''d stood, sending dirt and debris flying. BOOM! Volk didn''t stop. He pivoted on his heel, swinging his other fist. SWISH! This time, Geisler raised his shield just in time. The impact was deafening, a metallic CLANG! that reverberated through the air. Geisler grunted as the force of the blow sent him skidding backward, his boots digging furrows in the dirt. "Ogre you are losing strength," he admitted grudgingly, his shield arm trembling from the strain. "You will never win." Volk grinned, baring his sharp teeth. "Let''s test that theory, shall we?" The Orc pressed the attack, his movements growing faster and more calculated. He feinted with his left hand, forcing Geisler to raise his shield, and then swung low with his right. CRASH! The gauntlet clipped the edge of the shield, sending sparks flying. Geisler retaliated with a swift slash of his sword. The blade cut through the air with a sharp WHISTLE! Volk dodged, his movements surprisingly agile for his massive frame. As the fight dragged on, Volk began to notice a pattern. Geisler''s attacks were sharper, faster, and stronger than they should have been. His strikes carried a weight that hinted at magic, but there was no visible aura, no telltale glow. Volk frowned. "You''re using magic," he said, more a statement than a question. Geisler''s smirk returned. "I don''t," The Orc growled. "Heh! You don''t fight like any human I''ve ever seen. But your tricks won''t save you." Volk shifted his approach, his attacks becoming more probing. He tested Geisler''s defenses, throwing feints and light jabs with his gauntlet. Each time, Geisler countered with an almost mechanical precision, his sword flashing like lightning. CLANG! THUD! SWISH! Volk''s blows came faster and harder, each one aimed to overwhelm Geisler''s defenses. The ground trembled with every strike, cracks spidering out from where the gauntlet met the earth. Geisler''s movements remained deliberate, but Volk noticed something. Whenever the Baron attacked, his strikes were magically enhanced, his sword cutting deeper and faster. But when he dodged or evaded, the magic seemed to vanish. The realization clicked into place. "You''re conserving your strength," Volk said, a hint of admiration in his tone. "Smart. But it won''t be enough." Geisler didn''t reply. His expression was one of grim determination as he lunged forward, his sword aimed for Volk''s chest. SWISH! Volk sidestepped, the blade missing him by inches. He retaliated with a massive swing of his gauntlet. BOOM! Geisler blocked it with his shield, but the force sent him stumbling. Volk laughed, the sound booming across the battlefield. "You''re not bad for a human. But let''s see how long you can last." sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He crouched low, his massive frame coiled like a spring, and then leapt into the air. The ground shuddered beneath him. Geisler''s eyes widened as Volk descended like a meteor, his gauntlet aimed squarely at the Baron''s head. CRASH! Geisler rolled to the side just in time, the impact sending a shockwave through the ground. The fight grew more brutal with each passing moment. Volk''s attacks were relentless, his gauntlet smashing through rock and dirt as he pursued Geisler. The Baron, despite his injuries, held his ground, his sword and shield moving in perfect harmony. SLASH! CLANG! BOOM! The battlefield was a cacophony of sound, the clash of metal and the roar of the gauntlet blending into a symphony of destruction. Finally, Volk decided to end it. He slammed his gauntlet into the ground with all his might. BAM! The earth trembled, cracks radiating outward in a spiderweb of destruction. Geisler stumbled, momentarily losing his balance. Volk seized the opportunity. He surged forward, his gauntlet raised high. WHOOSH! The final blow came down like a hammer, smashing into Geisler''s shield. CRUNCH! The shield shattered, fragments flying in every direction. Geisler was thrown backward, landing hard on the ground. Volk stood over him, breathing heavily, his gauntlet humming with residual energy. Geisler struggled to his feet, blood dripping from his forehead. His sword was still in his hand, but it trembled as he raised it. "I will find your tricks!" Volk said, his voice a low growl. "Just give up." Geisler''s lips curled into a defiant snarl. "Just a scratch," Before Volk could respond, the glowing screen reappeared, floating before him. Ding! | Absorb? | Volk hesitated, his eyes flicking between the screen and Geisler. The Baron, sensing the pause, lunged forward with a desperate cry. But Volk was ready. He sidestepped the attack and slammed his gauntlet into the Baron''s chest, sending him sprawling. As Geisler lay on the ground, coughing and struggling to rise, Volk stared at the screen. "What the hell are you trying to tell me?" he muttered. The fight reignited with ferocity, the battlefield now a war zone of shattered earth and scorched debris. Baron Geisler, battered but unbroken, rose to his feet. His sword glinted in the dim light, the edge sharp and deadly again and again. His shield, though dented and cracked, remained steady in his grip. Volk cracked his neck, his hulking frame towering over the human. He flexed his gauntlet-clad hand, the hum of its latent power growing louder. His lips curled into a savage grin. "Ready for another round, little man?" Geisler''s gaze was unwavering, his eyes filled with determination. "I''ll bring you down, beast," he spat. Volk didn''t wait for an invitation. He lunged forward, his massive gauntlet swinging in a brutal arc. WHOOSH! Geisler raised his shield just in time, the impact sending a deafening CLANG! through the air. The force of the blow forced him back several feet, his boots carving trenches into the dirt. The Baron retaliated with a swift slash of his sword. SWISH! The blade cut through the air, aiming for Volk''s exposed side. The Orc twisted, narrowly evading the strike. His gauntlet came up in a counterattack, aiming for Geisler''s torso. BAM! Geisler ducked, the gauntlet whistling past his head. He pivoted on his heel, bringing his shield around in a crushing bash. THUD! The edge caught Volk''s shoulder, staggering him slightly. Volk laughed, the sound deep and menacing. "Not bad, human. But not good enough." The Orc surged forward again, his attacks growing faster and more aggressive. He jabbed with his gauntlet, each strike aimed to break Geisler''s defenses. CLANG! CLANG! BOOM! Geisler deflected each blow, his shield bearing the brunt of the attacks. He moved with calculated precision, his footwork keeping him just out of Volk''s reach. But Volk noticed something. With every swing of Geisler''s sword, every raise of his shield, there was a faint shimmer¡ªa fleeting aura that seemed to enhance the Baron''s movements. Chapter 230 - 230: Defeat Volk noticed that the aura wasn''t just enhancing his strikes; it was amplifying his entire body. Geisler''s reflexes were faster than a human''s should be, his strength enough to hold back the monstrous force of Volk''s blows. Even his footwork was unnaturally precise, allowing him to evade attacks that should have been unavoidable. Volk growled, his frustration mounting. "What''s this trickery, Baron? You can''t match me without some strange crutch, huh?" Geisler smirked, his shield rising to block another incoming strike. "You wouldn''t understand, beast. This is discipline. Training. Something your savage kind could never comprehend." The taunt only fueled Volk''s fury. He slammed his gauntlet into the ground, the impact sending a shockwave rippling through the earth. ? KABOOM! The ground split beneath Geisler''s feet, but the Baron leapt back, landing gracefully on solid ground. Volk charged again, his gauntlet swinging like a battering ram. Geisler sidestepped, his sword flashing in a counterattack. SWISH! The blade nicked Volk''s arm, drawing a thin line of blood. The Orc''s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn''t expected the human to land a hit. Volk''s movements became more calculated. He started testing Geisler''s defenses, throwing feints and probing strikes. Each time, the aura flared faintly around the Baron''s sword, shield, or feet, guiding his movements and enhancing his power. The realization hit Volk like a bolt of lightning. "So that''s it," he muttered. "You''re channeling some sort of energy into your body." Geisler didn''t respond, his focus entirely on the fight. Volk grinned. "Let''s see how long that trick of yours lasts." The fight intensified. Volk''s blows became heavier, faster, more relentless. BOOM! CRASH! THUD! The ground trembled beneath their feet, each clash of gauntlet and sword echoing like thunder. Geisler held his ground, his shield absorbing the brunt of Volk''s attacks. His sword lashed out whenever there was an opening, each strike precise and deadly. SLASH! CLANG! Volk began to notice a pattern. The aura only appeared when Geisler was attacking or defending. It wasn''t constant. It flared briefly, then faded, only to reappear when needed. Suddenly, Volk had an idea. He pressed the attack, forcing Geisler to channel his magic repeatedly. Each time the Baron''s sword clashed with his gauntlet, the aura flared brighter. Volk grinned. "Let''s see how much more you''ve got." The glowing screen reappeared in the corner of his vision. "Absorb?" Volk hesitated for a moment, then made his decision. He triggered the ability. The moment Volk activated the absorb function, he felt a strange pull, as if the air around him was shifting. Geisler swung his sword again, the blade glowing faintly with the aura. But this time, as the aura flared, it was drawn away, siphoned into Volk''s gauntlet. Geisler''s eyes widened in shock. "What¡ª?" The Baron tried to channel his magic again, but nothing happened. The aura was gone. Volk didn''t give him a chance to recover. He surged forward, his gauntlet smashing into Geisler''s chest with devastating force. KABAM! Geisler was thrown backward, his body crashing into the ground with a sickening THUD! Volk stood over him, breathing heavily, his gauntlet humming with newfound energy. "So that''s what you were hiding," he said, his voice low and menacing. Geisler coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He looked up at Volk, his expression a mixture of anger and disbelief. The Orc grinned. "Your tricks won''t save you now, human." Volk stared down at the broken man before him, his gauntlet still crackling faintly with residual energy. The Baron lay sprawled on the ground, clutching his chest, blood seeping through his dented armor. Despite the obvious agony, Baron Geisler began to laugh. It was a hoarse, wheezing sound at first, but it grew louder, more menacing, filling the desolate battlefield with an air of grim finality. "You... you beast," Geisler rasped, his voice laced with venom. "You might''ve won this fight, but don''t think for a second it changes anything. Do you know where you are, you filthy creature? This land isn''t yours. "The Grand Canyon, the Valley of Orcs¡ªthey''re leagues away from here! You''re far from your tribe, far from your savage kin. You''re alone." Volk remained silent, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing slightly. The gauntlet on his arm tightened with a faint hum, but he made no move to interrupt. Geisler coughed violently, spitting blood onto the dirt. He gritted his teeth and continued, his voice growing steadier. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Do you think you''ll get away with this? Killing me? Killing my knights? Hah! You''ve only sealed your fate." His lips curled into a cruel smile, exposing bloodstained teeth. --- "You see, you oversized brute, I''ve already sent the signal." His words came out slow and deliberate, his eyes boring into Volk''s. "The surrounding barons... oh, they know. They know what you are. A monster. An abomination. Do you think they''ll let you roam free? No, no, they''ll hunt you down like the dog you are." Volk''s expression darkened, but he remained rooted in place, his massive frame towering over the Baron like an executioner waiting for the condemned to finish his plea. Geisler let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, you might think you''re strong now. But strength alone won''t save you from the fury of the nobles. They''ll send their armies, their mages, their mercenaries. And when they find you, they won''t just kill you. No... no, that would be too kind." The Baron''s voice dropped to a near whisper, his tone dripping with malice. "Do you know what they''ll do to a rare warrior Orc like you? A freak who killed a baron''s heir and his entire cavalry?" His lips twisted into a smirk. "They''ll take your head. Mount it on a pike for all to see. Your arms? Your legs? Hah! Sold to the highest bidder. The nobles love their trophies, you see. A warrior Orc''s skull makes for quite the conversation piece." Volk''s jaw tightened, his tusks baring slightly. His gauntlet began to glow brighter, but still, he didn''t speak. "And your heart," Geisler sneered. "Ah, yes, your heart. They say a warrior Orc''s heart, when boiled, makes a fine elixir. Increases stamina, they claim. The nobles will pay a fortune for it. "Perhaps they''ll even feast on your liver at their banquets, laughing about how easily you fell. I am just a Baron, imagine I alone could hurt, what more if there''s a thousand of them!?" Geisler shifted slightly, groaning in pain but refusing to stop. "You think you''re a predator, don''t you? But out here, you''re the prey. Do you think the other tribes will come for you? Hah! They won''t even know you''re gone until it''s too late. You''re nothing but a lost beast, wandering into a trap you''ll never escape." Volk''s fists clenched, the earth beneath him cracking slightly under the pressure. "And let''s not forget the bounty," Geisler continued, his tone almost giddy now. "Oh, the bounty they''ll place on your head. Every mercenary from here to the capital will be after you. You''ll be hunted day and night. There''ll be no rest for you, no hiding place. They''ll track you to the ends of the earth, and when they find you... hah!" He coughed again, his body wracked with pain, but he forced himself to sit up slightly, propping himself on one arm. "You think killing me will end this?" he spat, blood dripping from his lips. "No, beast. Killing me is just the beginning. My death will light a fire¡ªa fire that will burn through your kind until there''s nothing left but ash. "They''ll use my death as an excuse to wipe out every warrior Orc, every savage tribe they can find. Your people will pay the price for your arrogance." Volk''s eyes flickered with a mix of anger and something else¡ªcontemplation, perhaps, or the faintest hint of unease. Geisler noticed and seized the moment. "Do you hear me, you wretched creature? Your actions here will doom your kind. The tribes will suffer. The valleys will burn. And you''ll be the cause. You''ll be their downfall." The Baron''s laughter returned, weaker now but no less deranged. "And do you know the best part? Even if you escape¡ªif you somehow survive the hunters and the armies¡ªyou''ll never escape the guilt. The knowledge that you brought ruin to your people. That your lust for blood and destruction condemned them all." He collapsed back onto the ground, breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell in ragged motions, each breath a struggle. Yet his lips still curled into that smug, defiant smile. "Go ahead," he whispered, his voice barely audible now. "Do it. Kill me. But remember my words, beast. Remember them when you''re running, hiding, watching your kind die. You''ll carry my death with you forever." Volk stood still, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the dying man. His glowing gauntlet pulsed faintly, the hum of its power almost drowned out by the wind. For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Geisler''s eyes fluttered shut, his body slackening as exhaustion overtook him. The last remnants of his defiance lingered on his face, a final act of defiance even in the face of death. And then, silence ensues. Chapter 231 - 231: Rewards Volk''s breathing slowed as the battlefield fell silent, save for the faint rustle of the wind and the distant cries of crows circling overhead. The system''s chime pierced through the stillness, sharp and clear. DING! The notification glimmered in his vision. | Mission: Destroy the entire cavalry of Baron Geisler without turning into Radioactive Form. | Rewards: Directions to each member of the Horde, including their wives. | Failure: Gauntlet Disappearance. | Status: Completed. | Volk blinked. The words lingered in front of him, glowing faintly before vanishing like dissipating smoke. He felt a faint magical pulse, followed by a rhythmic vibration against his thigh. His hand instinctively moved to his armored animal-hide shorts. He fished out the rough, folded map that the two barbarian girls had handed him earlier. The parchment had felt inconsequential before¡ªanother relic from desperate humans clinging to survival¡ªbut now, it radiated with an otherworldly energy. The surface glowed faintly as he unfolded it, revealing a far grander depiction of the world than he''d anticipated. The map was divided into intricate sections. It bore the names of Nine Human Kingdoms, sprawling across a single massive continent, each marked with intricate borders and tiny, illegible scribbles indicating towns, castles, and strongholds. Volk''s sharp eyes swept across the parchment until his attention was drawn to the colossal mass of land to the east. "Unexplored Elven Continent," he muttered. The words were etched in elegant, ancient script. This landmass dwarfed the human kingdoms by a staggering magnitude. Volk''s tusks glinted as he leaned closer. Seven times larger? His brow furrowed. It was a world unto itself, a mysterious frontier untouched by humanity¡ªor so the map claimed. His gaze shifted back to the continent of the Nine Kingdoms. A faint dark green mark pulsed in the western edge, accompanied by a single word: Warchief. "Me," Volk said softly. The word reverberated in his mind. He had been named Warchief by his people¡ªa title that denote strength, leadership, and responsibility. His eyes scanned further. The dark green mark was dangerously close to the Grand Canyon and the Valley of Orcs, the ancestral lands of his kind. He ran his fingers over the map, tracing the lines of the human territories. . It became painfully clear: three Baron Territories stood between him and the safety of his homeland. One of them bore a label that sent a chill down his spine: Baron Geisler''s Territory. Volk growled, his gaze flickering back to the ruined battlefield. The thought of staying here, even for another moment, felt like madness. Suddenly, the map began to shift again, as though alive. Another color bled into the parchment, forming small, pulsating dots. Horde Members. "My horde," Volk murmured. His voice was low, filled with a strange mix of hope and dread. The dots marked the locations of his scattered tribe. Some were near¡ªclose enough to consider saving. But others... Volk''s heart sank. A new color emerged alongside some of the dots, one that made his stomach twist. Red. When he focused on the red dots, words emerged beside them: Perished Horde. --- Volk''s tusks bared instinctively, and his fist tightened around the map. "Perished," he growled, his voice trembling with fury. His people weren''t just scattered¡ªthey were being hunted. His gauntlet flared briefly, sensing the tension within him. He studied the map further. The red dots were clustered dangerously close to the Baron Territories. The realization hit him like a warhammer to the chest. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. If he lingered here, if his presence became known, the surrounding barons would undoubtedly converge upon him. Volk muttered to himself, piecing together his options. "Three Baron Territories between me and the Valley. Baron Geisler''s lands are here. If his signal reached others..." He paused, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing. "They''ll come. I''ll be surrounded. No escape. The only reason you all exist is because all the Orcs don''t matter to us, they are just creatures used to strengthen our human race!" His mind raced. Each second felt heavier than the last. The Baron''s dying words rang in his ears: They''ll hunt you. They''ll tear you apart. Your kind will pay for your arrogance. Volk snarled. The human was dead, but his warning still held weight. If the surrounding barons were already aware of him, then his window of opportunity was razor-thin. He traced the map again, focusing on the green dots. Some were dangerously close to red zones, others farther away but isolated. A surge of determination coursed through him. He couldn''t let his horde fall apart. "Move," Volk muttered to himself, folding the map with care. "I can''t stay here. Not for long." He rose to his full height, his massive frame casting an imposing shadow over the battlefield. His eyes swept over the carnage¡ªthe shattered bodies of knights, the crushed remains of their cavalry. He felt no remorse for them, but he couldn''t ignore the consequences. The map''s glowing warmth faded as he slipped it back into his shorts. His gauntlet hummed, a silent reminder of the system''s reward. He flexed his fingers, feeling the raw power coursing through the enchanted artifact. Volk took a deep breath, the air thick with the stench of blood and ash. He turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the distant silhouettes of mountains marked the edge of the Grand Canyon. His destination was clear. But first, he had to move. "Three barons," Volk growled to himself, his voice low but resolute. "Three obstacles. Then the Valley. Then the Horde." He clenched his fists, the gauntlet glowing faintly. "What do I do first, again?" And with that, Volk began to move, his massive strides carrying him toward the next chapter of his brutal journey. Not long, with his strides toward the horizon were strong, he suddenly halted abruptly when he felt another vibration against his thigh. The map¡ªit was alive again. He reached into his armored hide shorts, pulling out the glowing parchment. Its surface shimmered like molten emeralds as new details began to unfurl across it. At first, the dark green markings of his horde still pulsed faintly, scattered across the human kingdoms and the edge of the Grand Canyon. But as he stared at the elven continent, his eyes narrowed. A new color emerged¡ªyellow-green dots scattered across the sprawling, unexplored landmass. Volk''s jaw tightened, his tusks bared as realization struck. "Elves?" he muttered, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. "My elven horde members... in the elven lands?" His mind worked quickly. The map''s markings didn''t need explanation; the truth was self-evident. Those yellow-green dots represented elves who were part of his horde. Their wives from the upper realm ruled by the Warlocks and Dark Elves. Before he could dwell further, the map pulsed again, and golden letters appeared in the air before his eyes. DING! | The Warchief won''t be a Warchief without a horde. | Mission: Collect a new member of the horde and form a new horde in the Orzaroth Realm. Adopt all the scattered Wild Orcs and join them to the new starting horde. | Rewards: Exact location and status of the original horde members and a random radioactive horde power up! | Failure: Horde marks disappearance. | Status: Ongoing. | Volk''s grip on the map tightened. The system had spoken. Its instructions were clear. He couldn''t waste time. Without his horde, he was nothing but a lone survivor¡ªa fragment of what he was meant to be. His people needed him, and now he had a new mission: not just to survive, but to rebuild. But there was no room for hesitation. The map''s message lingered in his thoughts as he refocused on the path ahead. "The Orzaroth Realm," he growled under his breath, rolling the map carefully and slipping it back into his shorts. "If I''m to be Warchief, then I''ll start by gathering what remains." Chapter 232 - 232: Territorial Backups Baron Geisler''s Territory: The Alarm Meanwhile, far from Volk''s location, a low, ominous wail echoed across Baron Geisler''s territory. WHOOOOO-OOO! WHOOOOO-OOO! The sound was unmistakable¡ªa deep, resonating horn accompanied by the faint crackle of magical pulses. The alarm''s cry carried through every village, castle, and farmland under the Baron''s jurisdiction. It was not a sound anyone wished to hear. Farmers in the fields froze mid-swing, their scythes hanging limply in their hands. The women gathering water by the river dropped their buckets, watching the horizon with wide eyes. Children playing near the gates stopped their games, their laughter silenced as the chilling sound reached their ears. Inside the bustling markets of the main town, merchants paused mid-barter, their voices trailing off. Customers turned their heads toward the towering bell tower in the center of the square. "That can''t be..." a merchant muttered, his voice trembling. Another whispered, "The alarm... but that means¡ª" "The Baron," an older man cut in, his face pale. "Does it mean that the current Baron has fallen." The wail of the horn reverberated even into the grand halls of Castle Geisler. Servants stopped their cleaning, their eyes darting to one another. Knights training in the courtyard lowered their weapons, dread settling over their ranks. "What''s going on?" one young squire asked, his voice cracking. "Quiet!" barked a senior knight, though his own face betrayed unease. "The Baron can''t fall. He''s... he''s Geisler." But even as he spoke, the truth weighed heavily in the air. In a secluded chamber within the castle, the stillness of the Baron''s private library was broken by the wailing alarm. The room was lined with towering shelves of ancient tomes and scrolls, their spines cracked with age. At its center stood an old man, draped in flowing robes, his long white beard nearly reaching the floor. The wizard, Gerhardt, slammed the heavy tome he had been reading shut. His gnarled hand clenched into a fist, and his brow furrowed deeply as he muttered a string of curses under his breath. "That damned fool," he spat, his voice laced with both anger and frustration. "I warned him. I told him¡ªnever travel without more knights, especially not to those outskirts!" Gerhardt paced the room, his ornate staff tapping against the stone floor with each step. "What kind of creature could have done this?" he muttered. "An entire cavalry wiped out? Even Geisler himself?" His voice grew louder with each word. He stopped abruptly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. "Unless..." He slammed his staff down with a resounding CRACK. "Could it be the Prince''s meddling?" he snarled. "That boy would do anything to eliminate Geisler. Even hire... whatever did this!" Gerhardt''s mind raced, piecing together possibilities. "But what if it wasn''t the Prince?" he muttered. "What if... what if this is something worse?" His gaze drifted toward the nearest window, where the distant mountains loomed like silent sentinels. "Some monstrous beast," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "Or..." His eyes widened. "Don''t tell me..." He gripped the edge of a nearby desk. "A monster?" --- Gerhardt''s face twisted in anger as he thought of the possibility. "If it''s one of those savage monsters... then the Baron deserved it!" he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "That arrogant fool," he continued, pacing again. "Always boasting about his prowess. Always underestimating the enemy. How many times did I tell him? ''Bring more knights, bring more mages,'' I said. But no. He had to prove himself. Had to flaunt his strength." Gerhardt shook his head, his long beard swaying. "And now look where it''s gotten him. Dead. And his entire cavalry¡ªgone. What a waste." He paused, staring at the towering shelves of books around him. "If this is truly a monster... then we''re not that much in danger if it''s alone. But if it''s enough to wipe out the cavalry that fast, it should be a whole lot of them¡­" His words trailed off, replaced by a grim silence. Suddenly, the door to the library burst open, and a young mage-in-training stumbled in, his face pale. "Master Gerhardt!" the boy exclaimed. "The alarm¡ªwhat does it mean?" Gerhardt turned to him slowly, his expression a mix of anger and resignation. "It means, boy," he said, his voice cold, "that the Baron is dead. And that something far worse than him is now out there." The young mage''s eyes widened at Gerhardt''s words. His voice trembled as he asked, "What should we do, Master Gerhardt?" The old wizard turned, his gaze fierce and unwavering. He gripped his staff tightly, the gnarled wood thrumming with latent power. "We prepare for war," he said firmly, his voice echoing through the library. Hours later, the preparations in Baron Geisler''s territory reached their peak. The once bustling villages and markets were now silent, save for the rhythmic clatter of armor and weapons. The Baron''s army, a formidable force of knights, foot soldiers, and mages, stood in perfect formation. Rows of shields gleamed under the harsh sun, their polished surfaces reflecting the fiery determination etched on every soldier''s face. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Their faces were masks of fury. Fury for their fallen leader. Fury for their comrades who had perished. Fury for the monster that dared challenge their might. The knights stood in three solid phalanxes, their tall kite shields locked together like an impenetrable wall. Each shield bore the emblem of House Geisler¡ªa crimson wolf howling at the moon. Behind them, rows of archers waited, their longbows strung with taut sinew, arrows knocked and ready to fly. The mages were scattered amongst the ranks, their robes billowing in the wind, hands glowing faintly with magical energy. Their faces were grim, their eyes fixed on the horizon. The foot soldiers, armed with spears and swords, filled the gaps, their expressions hardened by years of battle. Some muttered prayers under their breath. Others simply tightened their grips on their weapons, their knuckles white with tension. At the forefront of the formation stood Gerhardt, his staff planted firmly in the ground. The old wizard''s piercing blue eyes scanned the gathered army, his face a mask of grim resolve. He raised his staff high, and a pulse of magic swept over the soldiers, filling them with renewed vigor. "We march," Gerhardt bellowed, his voice carrying over the assembled troops, "to avenge the Baron! To avenge your brothers! And to show the world that no beast, no savage, no monster, can stand against the might of House Geisler!" A deafening roar erupted from the army. Shields clanged against swords, and the air vibrated with the sound of their battle cries. "FOR THE BARON!" "FOR OUR HONOR!" "FOR VENGEANCE!" Chapter 233 - 233: Wild Orcs Meanwhile, deep in a dense, shadowy forest, Volk tread carefully through the underbrush. The towering trees above formed a canopy so thick that only dappled sunlight broke through, casting eerie patterns on the ground. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, and the distant calls of unseen creatures echoed faintly. Volk pulled out the map once again. It vibrated softly in his hands, its surface glowing with shifting colors. He studied it closely, his sharp eyes scanning the markings. The dark green dots representing his horde members still pulsed faintly, scattered across the human kingdom and the Grand Canyon. The yellow-green markings in the elven lands glowed faintly, representing the elves tied to his horde. The red dots, the perished members, remained a painful reminder of those he had already lost. But now, a new color has appeared. It was a silvery-metal hue, unlike anything he had seen before. The silver markings were scattered in two distinct patterns. Some were single lines, while others were double lines. As he traced the markings with his finger, Volk''s brow furrowed in thought. "Silver," he muttered to himself. "And transparent inside... what are you?" The lines seemed to represent something alive, but not human. After some deliberation, Volk came to a conclusion. "These must be... other tribes." His voice rumbled softly. "The one-line markings... What are they?." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "And the two-line markings too." He stood still for a moment, his mind racing. The map was guiding him, urging him to rebuild. To gather. "The horde," Volk whispered. "If I''m to be a Warchief, I need them all. So I must check them all." Not long. The markings closest to him were a cluster of single-line silver dots. He didn''t know what they were, however, they were near, perhaps a few hours'' travel through the forest. Volk''s decision came quickly. "Single line first," he muttered. He tucked the map back into his shorts and adjusted his gauntlets. His eyes scanned the forest ahead, his senses sharp for any sign of movement. The air was still, but Volk knew better than to trust it. As he began his march, his massive frame moved with surprising stealth, his steps barely disturbing the forest floor. The distant sound of birdsong faded as he pushed deeper into the woods. The forest was quiet save for the faint rustle of leaves under Volk''s heavy boots. He pulled out the map once more, its soft glow lighting his rugged features as he scrutinized the markings. His eyes landed on the nearest silver line¡ªa single circle¡ªand he paused, his brow furrowed. "What kind of monster is this?" he muttered to himself. "An Orc like me... or one of those Ogres like my Radioactive form?" His massive finger traced the line on the map, and he noticed the cluster it represented: six dots. He tilted his head, narrowing his gaze. After a moment of careful observation, his lips curled into a surprised grin. "Four females... and two males," he murmured. "So, it''s Orcs, not Ogres. Single line means Orc. Double line must mean Ogre." Satisfied with his deduction, Volk tucked the map back into his armored shorts. He shook his head and laughed softly to himself. "And here I thought I''d find some hulking brute waiting to smash me into the dirt." As he pressed forward, the sunlight filtering through the forest canopy grew dimmer. His thoughts churned as he moved, his sharp mind dissecting the situation. "How do I invite an Orc to join my horde?" he wondered aloud. "Do I demand it? Fight them? Offer something in return?" The question lingered, unanswered. Volk''s instincts told him that brute force might not work. Orcs were proud, stubborn creatures, much like himself. If he came in swinging, they''d resist out of principle, even if they respected his strength. "Respect," he muttered. "Maybe that''s the key." With that thought, Volk straightened his posture and continued, the massive trees parting slightly as he approached the silver markings. The faint sound of conversation reached Volk''s ears before he saw them. The voices were gruff, tinged with the harsh accent of his kind. He slowed his pace, peering through the dense underbrush. There they were: six Orcs. Two males and four females stood in a loose circle, their postures relaxed but alert. They wore patched leather armor and carried crude weapons¡ªaxes, clubs, and daggers. One of the males had a large scar running down his face, his hand resting on the hilt of a jagged blade. The females looked equally fierce, their sharp eyes scanning the forest as they talked. Volk emerged from the trees, his massive frame causing a branch to snap loudly underfoot. The Orcs whipped around, weapons drawn, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of him. "Who goes there?" barked the scarred male, his blade gleaming in the dappled light. Volk raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Easy," he rumbled, his deep voice carrying a note of calm authority. "I''m not here to fight." The Orcs didn''t lower their weapons, but their tension eased slightly. The females exchanged glances, their expressions wary but curious. One of them, a tall female with braided hair and a chipped axe, stepped forward. "You''re... like us," she said, her voice tinged with suspicion. Volk nodded. "I am." The scarred male scowled. "That doesn''t mean you''re welcome here, stranger. State your business." Volk took a step closer, his massive presence causing the group to instinctively take a step back. He kept his voice steady, respectful. "My name is Volk. I''m forming a horde." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. The Orcs exchanged looks, their expressions shifting from suspicion to intrigue. "A horde?" one of the younger females asked, her brow furrowing. "What for?" "To reclaim what''s ours," Volk said simply. "To fight back against the humans who hunt us, the Ogres who see us as lesser, and anyone else who thinks we''re just fodder for their wars." His words seemed to strike a chord. The Orcs lowered their weapons slightly, their postures relaxing further. The scarred male stepped forward, his expression skeptical. "And what makes you think we''d follow you, Volk? We don''t even know you." Volk met his gaze evenly. "I''m not asking you to follow me blindly. I''ll prove myself if I have to. But I''m offering something none of us have had in a long time." "What''s that?" the braided female asked, her voice softer now. "A purpose," Volk said firmly. The group fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Volk extended his hand, his massive palm open in a gesture of trust. "I''ll ask once, and I''ll respect your answer. Will you join my horde?" The Orcs hesitated, their eyes darting between Volk and each other. Finally, the scarred male stepped forward, his scarred face set in a determined scowl. He reached out and clasped Volk''s forearm in a firm grip. "You''ve got guts, Volk," he said gruffly. "I''ll follow you." One by one, the others stepped forward, their expressions resolute. Each clasped Volk''s arm, pledging their allegiance. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The braided female was the last. She hesitated for a moment before gripping his forearm tightly. "Don''t make us regret this," she said, her voice carrying a note of warning. Volk grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. "You won''t." As they stood together, Volk suddenly felt a subtle shift in the air. Chapter 234 - 234: Volk vs All The air grew tense the moment Volk clasped forearms with the last Orc. Something in their body language shifted¡ªa subtle hardening, a slight narrowing of their eyes, and the faintest tightening of their grips on their weapons. Volk wasn''t caught off guard. He''d expected something was off from the way they exchanged looks, but the speed at which they moved was startling. The scarred male lunged first, his jagged blade slicing through the air with a whoosh. Volk barely sidestepped in time, the blade grazing past his ribs with a sharp swish. A club swung toward his face from the left, but he ducked, the heavy weapon missing him by mere inches and hitting the trunk of a tree with a loud CRACK! Volk leaped backward, gaining distance from the sudden ambush. His sharp eyes scanned the group as they spread out, encircling him like predators stalking prey. "What''s the meaning of this?" Volk growled, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. The braided female sneered, her chipped axe gleaming in the slanted sunlight. "You don''t get to just ask us to join you. What kind of fool walks into these woods thinking he can build a horde without spilling blood?" Another Orc, a younger male with sharp teeth and wild eyes, barked a laugh. "This forest isn''t some fairy tale! It''s ruled by gangs, and your casual demand is an insult to us and our pride." The scarred male stepped forward, his voice dripping with disdain. "You want a horde? Prove you''re worthy of leading one. Defeat us¡ªall of us¡ªat once!" Volk''s brow furrowed, and he let out a long sigh, his breath visible in the cool forest air. He wasn''t surprised by their hostility. Orcs were a proud and combative race; respect wasn''t something they handed out freely. Still, this was far from ideal. Shaking his head, Volk glanced toward the distant tree line. He could feel it¡ªthe subtle vibrations of the ground beneath his feet. Humans were coming, likely the first wave of Baron Geisler''s enraged knights or the so called other Barons. He didn''t want to waste time explaining or reasoning. These Orcs wouldn''t listen, and frankly, Volk didn''t care to explain himself. If they needed a fight to be convinced, then so be it. Volk flexed his massive hands, the thick muscles of his forearms rippling as he stepped forward into the center of the circle. The group tensed, their weapons ready. "Fine," Volk said, his voice low and gravelly. "But don''t blame me when you regret this." With a faint hum of magical energy, Volk''s gauntlet materialized around his right hand. It glimmered in the afternoon sunlight, the intricate runes etched into its surface glowing faintly. The sight of it made the six Orcs hesitate, their eyes narrowing as they took in the weapon''s otherworldly appearance. The braided female scoffed, tightening her grip on her axe. "A fancy glove won''t save you, stranger." Volk didn''t respond. He simply clenched his gauntleted fist, the metallic plating emitting a faint whine as it adjusted to his movement. They came at him all at once, their roars echoing through the forest like a cacophony of thunder. The scarred male led the charge, his blade slicing downward in a powerful arc. Volk raised his gauntlet to block, the impact ringing out with a resounding CLANG! Sparks flew as metal met magic, and the scarred Orc stumbled back, his blade vibrating in his hands. From the side, the younger male lunged with a dagger aimed at Volk''s ribs. Volk twisted his body, the blade narrowly missing him, and delivered a swift backhand with his gauntleted hand. WHAM! The younger Orc flew several feet, landing with a heavy thud against a tree. The braided female and another Orc, wielding a spiked mace, attacked in unison. The female swung her axe with deadly precision, while the mace-wielder aimed for Volk''s knees. Volk ducked under the axe, the blade passing just over his head with a sharp whoosh. He stomped his foot down on the incoming mace, the ground shaking with the force of his movement. BOOM! The mace shattered, its wielder crying out in shock as the weapon''s fragments scattered across the forest floor. The other two Orcs joined the fray, their movements fast and calculated. One wielded dual knives, slashing at Volk from both sides, while the other used a crude spear, jabbing at him relentlessly. Volk found himself dodging and weaving, his gauntlet absorbing some of the blows but leaving him little room to counterattack. The scarred male roared, charging again with his blade raised high. This time, Volk didn''t dodge. He met the Orc head-on, his gauntleted fist slamming into the flat of the blade with a deafening BANG! The sword shattered, and the scarred Orc staggered back, his hands bleeding from the force of the impact. Volk pressed the advantage, his movements a blur of raw power and precision. He caught the spear-wielding Orc by the shaft of his weapon, snapping it in half with a single twist. CRACK! A swift kick sent the Orc sprawling, his weaponless hands scrabbling at the dirt as he tried to regain his footing. The fight dragged on, the forest ringing with the sounds of battle¡ªCLANGS, THUDS, and SHOUTS¡ªas Volk systematically dismantled his opponents. The braided female was the last to fall. She came at Volk with a feral scream, her axe swinging wildly. Volk sidestepped her first strike, caught her wrist on the second, and slammed her into the ground with a resounding BOOM! Breathing heavily, Volk stood over the fallen Orcs. They groaned in pain, their bodies battered and bruised but alive. Volk raised his gauntleted hand, its glow fading as the magic receded. "Enough," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I don''t have time for your pride. You wanted strength? You''ve seen it." The scarred male struggled to his feet, his legs shaking as he faced Volk. He nodded slowly, his expression one of grudging respect. "You''re strong," he admitted. "Stronger than any Orc I''ve ever fought." S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The braided female groaned from the ground, propping herself up on one elbow. "Fine," she muttered. "We''ll join your horde. But don''t think we''ll go easy on you just because you won this fight." Volk allowed himself a small smirk. "Good. I wouldn''t want it any other way." As he extended a hand to help the braided female to her feet, the distant sound of marching reached his ears. His smile faded. The sound of marching was growing louder, faint at first but unmistakable¡ªa steady rhythm of boots trampling the earth, accompanied by the metallic clatter of armor and weapons. The humans were drawing closer, and Volk didn''t need to see them to know they were coming in numbers far greater than he could face alone. He turned to the six Orcs, who were now gathered in a rough semicircle around him. They still bore the bruises and scrapes from their fight, but their eyes were alert, their bodies tense and ready for action. They had seen his strength and acknowledged it, but now it was time for them to prove their worth to him. "Listen carefully," Volk said, his voice calm but firm, cutting through the ambient noise of the forest like a blade. "We don''t have much time. The humans are on their way, and they won''t stop until they''ve hunted us down. If we want to survive, we need to move now¡ªand we need to make sure they can''t track us." Chapter 235 - 235: Escape Volk''s eyes swept over the group, his gaze sharp and calculating. The gauntlet''s system interface was still active, hovering faintly in his peripheral vision. He could see their names, levels, and basic stats displayed in glowing runes. Scarred Male: Level 18, specializing in melee combat and survival tactics. Braided Female: Level 17, a swift and precise fighter with strong leadership instincts. Young Male with Dagger: Level 14, an agile skirmisher, ideal for quick strikes and distractions. Mace-Wielding Orc: Level 16, strong but slow, excellent for creating obstacles. Spear-Wielder: Level 15, a defensive fighter with solid endurance. Dual Knife Fighter: Level 13, skilled in stealth and ambush tactics. These are the reasons Volk can beat them: he is level twenty-five and found it easier to fight. He also had these advantages when he fought the Baron, which is why Volk can defeat him easily. However, the Baron was also level twenty-five, just like Volk. His men, or the cavalry that Volk destroyed, were not far in levels compared to their Baron. Although the levels of the Orcs in front of him were respectable, they were not high enough to stand against a full human army. Volk knew that their strengths lay in speed, cunning, and adaptability¡ªnot in direct confrontation. Soon, he proceeded to the plan. "We''re going to split into two groups," Volk began, his tone even. "I''ll lead one group to the east, away from the humans'' path. The other group will head west, creating a distraction. Your job isn''t to fight them head-on but to mislead them, confuse them, and slow them down." The scarred male frowned, his deep voice rumbling. "A distraction? What kind of distraction?" Volk smirked. "The kind that makes them think they''ve already found us. Start fires, leave tracks, break branches¡ªmake it look like a large group was traveling west. But keep moving. Never stay in one place for too long." He pointed to the braided female and the young male with the dagger. "You two are fast and resourceful. You''ll lead the distraction team. Take the dual knife fighter with you. Your job is to keep them chasing shadows while we circle around and head south." The braided female nodded, her expression serious. "Understood." Volk continued, his voice steady and commanding. "Scarred male, you''re with me. You and the spear-wielder will help carry supplies and cover our tracks. Mace-wielder, you''re with them." The mace-wielding Orc glanced at the braided female, then back at Volk. "Why me? I''m not fast like them. Plus, I have a name¡­" "Introduce yourself later," Volk said simply. "You''re strong, so it''s better to make sure you''ll make sure they can knock over trees, boulders, anything that can slow the humans down. Use your strength to leave a path of destruction that makes it look like an entire horde passed through." The mace-wielder grunted but nodded, clearly understanding his role. Soon, the preparation for the distraction commenced. "Now, move quickly," Volk said, gesturing for them to scatter. "But remember¡ªdon''t get caught. If they corner you, don''t fight unless you have no other choice. Your job is to buy us time, not to die pointlessly." The braided female, already taking charge of her team, turned to the others. "You heard him! Let''s go!" Her group moved swiftly, gathering sticks, dry leaves, and anything flammable. Within minutes, they had set up several small fires along their intended path, the smoke beginning to rise in thin columns that would catch the humans'' attention. The dual knife fighter crouched low, using his blades to carve false trails into the soft earth, while the mace-wielder toppled a small tree with a loud CRACK! The sound echoed through the forest, a perfect bait for the approaching army. Meanwhile, Volk led his group eastward, his pace steady but deliberate. He moved with the confidence of someone who knew the terrain instinctively, even though he had not been in the area even for a short time. The scarred male walked beside him, glancing occasionally at Volk''s gauntlet. "That thing," he said, his voice low. "What is it?" "A tool," Volk replied curtly, not breaking stride. "One that helps me see things others can''t." The scarred male grunted, accepting the answer without further question. The spear-wielder lagged slightly behind, his sharp eyes scanning the forest for any signs of pursuit. "Do you think they''ll take the bait?" "They will," Volk said with certainty. "Humans are predictable. They''ll chase what''s obvious, especially when they''re angry and looking for revenge." Soon, the distraction should be taken to action. Back to the west, the braided female''s team was executing their part of the plan flawlessly. The fires they had set were now roaring, sending thick plumes of smoke into the sky. They left broken branches and overturned rocks in their wake, creating the illusion of a large, clumsy group on the move. The young male with the dagger darted ahead, slashing at tree trunks to leave fresh marks. He turned to the braided female, his voice tinged with excitement. "Think this''ll fool them?" "It doesn''t need to fool them for long," she replied. "Just enough to keep them off Volk''s trail." sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The mace-wielder, sweating from the effort of his labor, leaned against a tree for a moment. "How long do we keep this up?" "Until we can''t hear their marching anymore," the braided female said. "Now stop whining and push that boulder over. It''ll block their path for at least an hour." With a grunt of effort, the mace-wielder heaved against the boulder, sending it crashing down a slope with a thunderous BOOM! Soon, their marched continues. Volk glanced at the map as they moved, noting the positions of the approaching humans. The distraction was working; the bulk of the army had veered westward, chasing the false trail. But a smaller group was still heading east, following what must have been the remnants of his original tracks. "Scarred male," Volk said, his tone sharp. "We need to pick up the pace. The humans are splitting up, and some are still on our trail." The scarred male nodded, his expression grim. "What about the others?" "They''ll be fine," Volk said confidently. "They''re strong, and they know what they''re doing." For now, all they could do was trust the plan and keep moving. After traveling for a short time, Volk stopped in his tracks as the youngest of the Orcs¡ªthe wiry male with a dagger always in hand¡ªtilted his head and asked, "What are the humans?" The question caught Volk off guard. His brow furrowed as he turned to face them, the forest shadows dancing across his rough features. "What do you mean, what are humans? You don''t know?" They have been running for a while, creating distractions and now they are telling him that they have no idea what humans are? Are these Orcs really from this realm or they were sent here from other dimensions just like them? Are they really that wild? The six Orcs exchanged glances, their expressions varying between confusion and curiosity. The braided female folded her arms, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Hmm?" The mace-wielder grunted innocently, resting his massive weapon on his shoulder. "Uh?" The spear-wielder was also curious, his tone cautious. "Humans?" Chapter 236 - 236: Suicidal Horde Volk sighed, it seems he needed to explain, running a hand over the gleaming surface of his gauntlet. He hadn''t expected to become a teacher, but it was clear these wild Orcs were as uninformed as they were defiant. "Humans," he began, his voice steady, "are creatures like us. Flesh and blood. But they''re smaller, weaker. They don''t have our strength or endurance." The group nodded, their expressions ranging from mild interest to boredom. "But what they lack in physical strength," Volk continued, his tone darkening, "they make up for with numbers, weapons, and cunning. They build massive armies, wear shining metal armor to protect themselves, and use tools that can pierce even the toughest hide. They are relentless." The young dagger-wielder''s brow furrowed. "Tools? Like this?" He held up his weapon. "Not like that," Volk replied, shaking his head. "Their weapons are long-range. They can strike you down from a distance before you even get close. Arrows, bolts, fire¡­ things that explode." This caught their attention. The braided female straightened, her eyes narrowing further. "Fire? Explosions?" "Yes," Volk said grimly. "And their leaders are clever. They use tactics, strategy. They''ll encircle you, cut off your escape, and grind you down until you have no choice but to die or surrender." The group stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. But then the braided female''s expression shifted, her lips curling into a sneer. "So¡­ they''re cowards." The mace-wielder barked a laugh, the sound loud and guttural. "Hiding behind their little toys because they''re too weak to fight us head-on? That''s pathetic!" The spear-wielder slammed the butt of his weapon into the ground. "And you want us to fear them because of that? Let them come! We''ll crush their shiny armor and feast on their soft flesh!" Volk was speechless to their reactions. Each of the Orcs responded in their own way, their emotions on full display: The braided female''s face twisted into disdain. "Humans sound like nothing more than pests. Weak, skittering creatures who rely on tricks. I''d like to see one try to fight me without their toys. I''d break them in half with my bare hands." The scarred male''s eyes gleamed with anger. "If they''re so clever, why haven''t they wiped us out already? I''ll tell you why¡ªthey''re afraid. Afraid to face us in real combat." The young dagger-wielder grinned wickedly. "If they use fire and explosions, we''ll use the forest. Let''s see how clever they are when they''re surrounded by flames and have no way out." The mace-wielder laughed again, louder this time. "Shiny armor? Let''s see how shiny it is after I flatten it! Their metal toys won''t save them from a real fight!" The spear-wielder''s lips curled into a snarl. "We''ve hunted beasts ten times their size. If humans are so fragile, they''ll fall just as easily. Let them come!" The dual knife fighter remained silent but smirked, sharpening his blades against each other, clearly relishing the thought of slicing through human ranks. As if the fury were ignited, the group grew more animated, their voices overlapping as they fed off each other''s confidence and anger. "They won''t stand a chance!" "We''ll rip them apart!" "Their shiny metal won''t protect them from us!" "Let them come! We''ll make them regret ever stepping into our forest!" Volk watched them carefully, his jaw tightening but was almost down the ground. Their rage was palpable, their disdain for the unknown humans boiling over into arrogance. It was clear they believed themselves invincible, despite having never encountered the humans'' true might. Soon, Volk decided to give them doubts. As the noise died down, Volk shook his head slowly. "You don''t understand," he said, his voice calm but firm. "This isn''t a fight you can win through strength alone. The humans have entire armies¡ªthousands of soldiers, each equipped with weapons designed to kill creatures like us." But his words only seemed to fan their flames. "We''ll fight to the death if we have to!" the braided female declared. "Better to die standing than to live in fear of these cowards!" The scarred male nodded in agreement. "We''ve survived this long without running. Why start now?" The young dagger-wielder smirked. "If they''re coming for us, let''s make sure they regret it. Their shiny little toys won''t save them from the bloodbath we''ll bring." Volk was beginning to feel frustration. Volk felt a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. He understood their pride, their defiance, but he also knew it could get them killed. If they rushed into battle against an organized human force, they wouldn''t stand a chance. Yet how could he convince them? These were wild Orcs, unaccustomed to taking orders or thinking beyond the immediate fight. To them, fear was weakness, and retreat was unthinkable. For the first time since meeting them, Volk felt genuinely uncertain. Should he try to force them to flee, knowing it would only sow resentment? Or should he let them fight, knowing it could lead to their deaths? The map in his gauntlet glimmered faintly, marking the positions of the advancing humans. Time was running out, and Volk had to decide. For now, he stood there, watching the defiant faces of his new horde, his mind racing. What was the right choice? What should he say? Suddenly, Volk''s lips curled into a sly grin as an idea formed in his mind. He couldn''t let these six hot-headed Orcs throw their lives away in a reckless charge. If he wanted to keep them alive and build something greater, he had to appeal to their primal instincts¡ªstrength, hunger, and pride. Raising his hand to silence their fiery declarations, he spoke with an air of authority. "I understand your rage. I feel it too," Volk began, his deep voice carrying through the forest like a low growl. The six Orcs paused, their angry mutterings subsiding as they turned to him, eager to hear their new leader''s thoughts. "I''ve seen humans fall. I''ve crushed them beneath my hands and torn through their ranks. But let me tell you this: fighting them now would be foolish." He let those words hang in the air for a moment, watching as confusion and skepticism flickered across their faces. The braided female, always the most vocal, scowled and stepped forward. "Foolish? They''re nothing but prey! Why should we wait when we can take their lives now?" Volk raised a hand to stop her, his expression unyielding. "Because, warriors, I don''t want to waste them." The six Orcs were shocked, waste them? S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The group blinked in unison, their expressions ranging from bewilderment to curiosity. The scarred male tilted his head, his lips curling into a puzzled sneer. "Waste them? What are you talking about?" Volk''s grin widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dappled sunlight. "I don''t want to fight the humans now because they''re more useful to us alive... for now." This statement caused a ripple of confusion. The young dagger-wielder scratched his head, his pointed ears twitching. "Useful? Humans? What kind of trick is this, Warchief?" Volk leaned in, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone, forcing them to listen closely. "Their flesh and blood. Their bones. All of it. That''s what I''m talking about." Chapter 237 - 237: Another horde ahead Soon, Volk was thinking of a grand feast! The braided female frowned. "You mean... food?" "Yes, food!" Volk barked, his voice brimming with conviction. He gestured toward the forest, as if envisioning a grand future. "We are building something here. A new horde. A mighty horde! And what better way to celebrate this union than with a feast? Not just any feast¡ªa feast of humans!" The group''s eyes widened at the thought. Volk''s tone grew more intense, his words like a hammer striking an anvil. "Think about it. Their flesh roasted over the fire, their bones turned into weapons, their blood spilled in honor of our new alliance. A true celebration of strength and unity!" Well, that was his intention anyway. The scarred male nodded slowly, a grin spreading across his scarred face. "A feast... a celebration... I like this idea, Warchief." Volk held up a hand. "But we cannot celebrate with just the six of you. That would be selfish. Greedy. I am no weakling who hoards glory for himself! If we strike now, we risk losing too many, or worse¡ªalerting the humans to our plans." The braided female frowned. "So what do we do?" Volk crossed his arms, his tone decisive. "We wait. We bide our time. We use this moment to grow stronger. To gather more warriors. Every Orc out there is a potential ally. "Every one of them adds to our strength. When the time is right, when our numbers swell like a rising tide, we will strike. And the humans will fall beneath our blades!" The reactions of the Orcs was surreal. The braided female''s eyes gleamed with excitement, her earlier anger replaced by a feral grin. "A grand feast... and a bigger horde to share it with. I like this plan." The mace-wielder laughed heartily, slamming his weapon against the ground with a loud CLANG. "The humans won''t see it coming! They''ll be too busy trembling in their little metal suits while we roast their friends!" The spear-wielder, ever cautious, nodded thoughtfully. "It makes sense. A horde isn''t a horde if it''s small. We need to be unstoppable when we move." The young dagger-wielder smirked, his sharp teeth glinting. "And when we do move, their flesh will be ours. I''ll carve it myself!" Even the dual knife fighter, usually silent, grunted in approval, his blades flashing as he sharpened them in preparation for the promised hunt. His confidence surged like a thick warrior blood. Inside, Volk was grinning for a completely different reason. They believed him. Every single one of them. He had spun the lie with such conviction that their fiery pride had been channeled into something useful. He clenched his gauntleted fist, feeling the weight of his deception. "Let''s go!" he commanded, his voice booming through the forest. "We have allies to find and humans to prepare for our feast!" "Lok''Tar Ogar!" they roared in unison, their voices echoing through the trees, filled with bloodlust and anticipation. As they began to move, Volk muttered under his breath, a sly grin on his face. "Let''s go, indeed. Lok''Tar Ogar." He wasn''t just gathering a horde. He was buying time, maneuvering them away from the humans, and preparing for the next stage of his conquest. Volk knew he would need their loyalty and their strength. Even if it meant spinning more lies along the way. The forest buzzed with the murmur of Volk''s growing horde. Wild Orcs of all shapes and sizes, scarred and feral, now marched under his banner. He had recruited forty members, and every one of them bore bruises, gashes, or broken weapons from the battles it took to make them submit. It wasn''t hard, not for him. The process was simple: beat them into the ground, show them his dominance, and they would swear loyalty. But it was no easy task. Groups of four, five, sometimes six wild Orcs at once had come at him. And the stakes had been high. "If I lose," Volk had declared during those challenges, "the horde leaves me. You can have it all." Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. It never came to that. With his unwavering strength, shit is easy. With every battle, Volk''s reputation grew. His gauntlet shone brightly as he pounded the ground, sending shockwaves through the earth that disoriented his foes. His strikes were precise, powerful, and overwhelming. The fights were short, brutal, and decisive. By the time Volk stood over yet another bruised and groaning Orc gang, they were already swearing their allegiance through bloodied lips. "Warchief!" they would cry, slamming their fists to their chests. Volk would nod, his face grim but victorious. "Welcome to the horde." Soon, they were now an army. As the numbers swelled, the newest recruits brought tales of another group of Orcs further ahead. This time, the story wasn''t about a ragtag gang of wildlings. No, this was different. Volk was walking at the head of his horde when one of the newer recruits¡ªa lean, wiry Orc with sharpened teeth¡ªjogged to catch up with him. "Warchief," the recruit began, his tone low and cautious. "What is it?" Volk asked, keeping his eyes forward. "There''s... there''s another gang ahead," the Orc said hesitantly. Volk stopped in his tracks, and the entire horde followed suit. The rustle of leaves and the occasional grunt of an Orc were the only sounds in the still forest. Volk turned to the recruit, his sharp gaze pinning him in place. "How many?" Volk asked, his voice calm but firm. The recruit swallowed hard, glancing at the others as if unsure whether he should continue. "At least thirty," he said finally. "Maybe more." Volk crossed his arms, his gauntleted hand glinting in the dappled sunlight. "Thirty, almost the same as us, we are just a little bigger," he repeated thoughtfully. "A big group. How does one Orc command so many?" The recruit hesitated again, but another member¡ªa burly female Orc with a broken tusk¡ªstepped forward to answer. "The leader," she said, her voice tinged with both awe and bitterness. "He''s... not like the others." Volk raised an eyebrow. "Not like the others? Explain." "He''s a gladiator," she said, her hands clenching into fists. "An escaped one. From the human arenas." The murmurs in the horde grew louder at this revelation. Volk''s eyes narrowed. "A gladiator? You mean he fought in the human pits?" The female Orc nodded. "Yes. They say he fought beasts, humans, Ogres, even other Orcs. And he won. Over and over. That''s why so many follow him. He''s that strong." Soon, a strange feeling was poured to them. The mention of the gladiator sparked unease among the ranks. Volk could hear their muttered concerns. "He survived the human arenas?" "Those places break the strongest warriors." "If he escaped, he must be even stronger than the Warchief." Volk remained silent, letting them voice their doubts. His gaze was distant, as if weighing the information carefully. Finally, he raised a hand, silencing the group. "So," he said slowly, "this gladiator escaped the arenas, built a gang of thirty Orcs, and now he''s ahead of us." He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "That''s a dangerous plot twist." The horde fell silent, watching him closely, waiting for his next move. Chapter 238 - 238: Confrontation The forest was darker here, the canopy thick with gnarled branches that clawed at the sky. Sunlight barely seeped through, casting the clearing in a hazy twilight. At the center of this gloom, an Orc stood¡ªa mountain of muscle and menace. His skin was a mottled gray-green, scarred and rough like the bark of an ancient tree. A jagged, broken tusk jutted from his lower jaw, and his eyes glowed faintly with a predatory gleam. Thick cords of muscle wrapped around his arms, and his chest was bare except for a necklace of human teeth strung tightly around his neck. In his hand, he held a cruelly forged axe, the edges darkened from countless battles. This was Kragath, the arena gladiator. Soon, he would prepare his massive sword and shield made of hardened wood and steel. Kragath stood motionless, his piercing gaze locked on the group of Orcs approaching through the forest. His warriors, thirty strong, milled about the clearing behind him, sharpening their weapons or feasting on dried meats. They were a disciplined lot, hardened by their leader''s ruthless training. One of his warriors, a wiry, dark-skinned Orc with sharp features, stepped forward. "Chief," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "those Orcs. Should we attack them? They''re nearing our territory." Kragath didn''t turn to look at the speaker. His eyes stayed fixed on the approaching figures. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "No," he said after a pause, his voice deep and deliberate. "Spilling blood for no reason weakens the horde. I will not waste our strength on a fight that has no honor." The warrior frowned, his hand tightening around the hilt of his blade. "Then what, Chief? Let them come to us unchallenged?" Kragath''s lips curled into a grim smile, and he finally turned to face his follower. "No. I will challenge their leader to a Mak''Gora. If we fight them head on¡ªgang to gang, there will be huge consequences to each side and I won''t like that¡­" And then, Kragath would mumble to himself, ''and they won''t like it too. So yes, he would proceed to the Mak''Gora Decision. Mak''Gora is a traditionala Orc ritual from that was written on their bloodline. It is a formal challenge or duel that often involves combat, typically between two Orc individuals. The ritual serves as a means to resolve disputes, restore honor, or establish dominance, and it is deeply rooted in Klingon values of honor and strength. During a Mak''Gora, the participants engage in combat until one of them is unable to continue, often leading to the death of one combatant. The process is highly ritualized, with strict rules and a code of conduct that reflects the Orc warrior ethos. The outcome is considered a matter of honor, and the victor gains respect and status. The warrior flinched at the word, his brows furrowing in concern. "Mak''Gora?" he asked hesitantly. "But, Chief, none of the other gangs ever accept your challenge. They all know you''re from the human arenas. They fear you." Kragath chuckled darkly, his broken tusk glinting in the faint light. "Fear is a weakness," he growled. "If this one turns down the challenge, his horde will know he is a coward. And if he accepts... well, then I''ll show them why I am their rightful leader." The warrior nodded reluctantly, though doubt flickered in his eyes. As Kragath turned his attention back to the approaching group, he squinted at the figure leading them. The Orc at the front walked with a commanding presence, his head held high and his steps purposeful. His armor glinted faintly, and a strange gauntlet adorned his hand, pulsing with faint energy. Kragath narrowed his eyes, watching the stranger with growing intrigue. "Plus, look at him," Kragath muttered, almost to himself. "That one will accept." ¡­ Soon, enough, Volk marched at the head of his newly formed horde, his sharp gaze sweeping over the clearing. The air here was heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint metallic tang of blood. He could feel the eyes of Orc''s gang boring into him, their suspicion and hostility practically tangible. As they drew closer, Volk raised a hand, signaling his group to halt. He stepped forward alone, his gauntlet gleaming as he walked confidently into the enemy''s territory. Kragath strode out to meet him, his axe resting casually on one shoulder. The two Orcs stood face to face, their imposing figures casting long shadows across the clearing. "What brings you to my land, stranger?" Kragath asked, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. Volk met his gaze unflinchingly. "I am Volk, Warchief of this horde," he said calmly. "And I bring a warning." Then, he gestured broadly to the forest around them. "Humans are coming," he said. "Not just hunters or small patrols. An army. They march to avenge their fallen Baron." Kragath''s eyes narrowed. "Humans? Here?" "Yes," Volk said firmly. "Their numbers are great, and they are angry. They want Orc blood. If we do not unite, they will slaughter us all." Behind Kragath, murmurs broke out among his warriors. Some looked uneasy, others skeptical. Kragath tilted his head, studying Volk closely. "Why should I believe you?" he asked. Volk stepped closer, his voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. "Because I have seen them. I have fought them. They wear shining armor and carry weapons that gleam like the sun. They ride beasts of war and chant songs of conquest. They march to kill, to burn, to destroy. And they will not stop until every Orc in these forests is dead." After that call of unity, Kragath would let out a low growl, his hand tightening on his axe. "If they come, we will fight them. Let them taste our steel." Volk shook his head. "You don''t understand. This isn''t a fight we can win alone. They outnumber us, out-arm us. If we fight them separately, they will crush us. But if we stand together, as one horde, we can break their lines, slaughter their knights, and send them running back to their cities in fear." The murmurs among Kragath''s warriors grew louder. Some nodded in agreement, while others crossed their arms and glared at Volk with suspicion. "And what happens after?" Kragath asked, his voice laced with distrust. "You want me to bend the knee to you? To follow your orders?" Volk met his gaze steadily. "I don''t care who leads," he said. "All that matters is survival. If you''re strong enough to command this horde, then prove it. But first, we must fight together." Kragath stared at Volk for a long moment, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Finally, he nodded slowly. "You speak well," he said. "But words are wind. Strength is what matters among Orcs. If you want my horde to join yours, then prove your worth. Fight me in Mak''Gora." Volk smirked. "I thought you''d never ask." The horde erupted into cheers and roars of anticipation as the two Orcs prepared to face off. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the promise of violence. Volk clenched his gauntlet, the faint hum of its power resonating in his ears. He had no intention of losing this fight. If he was to unite the Orcs, he would do it the only way they understood: through strength and dominance. Chapter 239 - 239: Warm Up The clearing was alive with anticipation. Orcs from both hordes formed a wide circle, their roars and chants echoing through the dense forest. Volk and Kragath stood at the center, sizing each other up like two massive predators on the verge of battle. Volk rolled his shoulders, his gauntlet humming faintly as he flexed his fingers. Kragath stood opposite him, his massive axe resting on the ground but within easy reach, its jagged edge gleaming in the faint light. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Kragath was the first to speak, his voice a low rumble. "You walk into my territory, speak of unity, and dare to challenge me in Mak''Gora. Tell me, stranger¡ªwho are you?" Volk smirked, his sharp tusks glinting. "I am Volk. A Warchief from a realm beyond this one. I fight to unite the Orcs and face the threat of the humans. Who are you to deny me this?" Kragath''s lips curled into a grin. "Kragath. Arena Gladiator, Champion of the Bloody Sands, and the one who will crush you if you are unworthy." Volk''s gaze didn''t waver. He raised his gauntlet, pointing it directly at Kragath. "Mak''Gora!" "Mak''Gora!" Kragath roared in response, his voice shaking the very trees around them. The crowd fell silent as the two warriors lunged at each other. Volk''s gauntlet flared with energy as he swung a brutal right hook, aiming for Kragath''s side. But the gladiator was fast¡ªhis axe came up in a smooth arc, intercepting the blow with a deafening CLANG! Sparks flew as metal met magic. They separated, circling each other like wolves. It was their first clash, a masterful first clash! "You''re strong," Kragath said, his tone almost approving. "Most Orcs can''t withstand a single clash with me." Volk shrugged, his eyes never leaving Kragath''s. "I was born strong. Strength is my birthright." Kragath chuckled. "Born strong? I earned mine. Every scar on this body, every bone I''ve broken¡ªit''s all been forged in the arenas." They charged again. Kragath''s axe came down in a heavy vertical slash, but Volk sidestepped, his gauntlet catching the haft of the weapon and twisting it aside with a burst of energy. BOOM! The ground beneath them cracked under the force. Volk spun, his fist racing toward Kragath''s ribs, but the gladiator ducked and retaliated with a sweeping kick. Volk staggered back but remained on his feet, with his smirk widening in glee. "You fight well," Volk said, his tone almost playful. "But I''m not one of your arena opponents." Kragath straightened, his axe resting on his shoulder. "Not True. You may think you''re better upon surviving my techniques but this is just a test. Plus, the arenas taught me to expect the worst, but you¡ª" He pointed his axe at Volk. "You fight with purposeful arrogance." After that, he would fake an attack in which Volk would fall too. "See, you are easy¡­" Kragath said. The two Orcs resumed their circling against each other, their muscles taut and their eyes locked. "You talk of purposeful arrogance," Kragath said. "What is it? Why risk your life to unite these gangs? Isn''t it better to live by yourself with your little strength?" Volk''s gauntlet pulsed with energy as he tightened his fist. "Because the humans are coming. They''ll wipe us out if we stay divided." Kragath snorted. "Humans. I''ve fought them in the arenas. Their knights, their swordsmen, even their champions. They''re soft. Weak. What makes you think they''re a threat? Plus, I am sure they won''t come after us even if you killed a high noble, so what makes you think you are too important for them to chase?" "I just know that I will be the Orc''s new hope. I also know they''re soft when it''s one-on-one, but I need to show them what will come to them," Volk countered, his voice rising with conviction. "And they don''t fight alone. This would make them a perfect celebration for the new beginning of the Orc age! They come in waves, endless and relentless. I will unite all of us and I''ll make sure they will be nothing more than corpses on their battlefields and a symbol of the Orc''s new beginning!" Kragath''s expression hardened. "You are talking big, you think you''re the one to unite us? To lead us? You think that''s easy? And you think you are the only one who also had that dream? Where are they now? Huh? Where?" "I don''t know," Volk said, stepping forward. "But it''s better to have a dream than to be stuck in a cave and die in hunger!" With that, he lunged again. This time, he fainted to the left before driving his gauntlet toward Kragath''s chest. The gladiator reacted instinctively, swinging his axe to block, but Volk''s real attack came in the form of a sweeping kick that knocked Kragath off balance. Kragath recovered quickly, his axe slamming into the ground with a thunderous THUD! to steady himself. He grinned through gritted teeth. "You''re clever. I''ll give you that." Immediately, the air grew thick with tension as they clashed again, their strikes more powerful, more calculated. Kragath''s axe cleaved through the air with deadly precision, each swing forcing Volk to move faster, react quicker. WHOOSH! CLANG! BOOM! The sounds of their battle echoed through the forest, sending birds scattering from the trees. "You move like a gladiator yourself," Kragath said between strikes. "Where did you learn to fight?" Volk parried a heavy blow with his gauntlet, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through the ground. "I didn''t learn," he said, his voice strained. "I fought. Every day. Every moment. I fought to survive." Of course, Volk was lying to his teeth, he wouldn''t say it''s from the system. Kragath''s eyes narrowed. "Survival. The ultimate teacher." Their weapons collided again, sending a spray of sparks into the air. Volk pushed forward, his gauntlet glowing brighter with each strike. "And you? Did you enjoy spilling blood for the humans'' entertainment?" Kragath snarled, his swings growing fiercer. "Enjoy it? No. But it made me stronger. Strong enough to never be their slave again." Volk would sneer, "Heh!" And then he would add, "Never be a slave again but don''t have the guts to go against them and dominate them!?" BANG! They broke apart once more, both of them breathing heavily. The circle of Orcs around them watched in awe, their chants and cheers growing louder with each clash. Kragath wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, his grin feral. "You''ve got fire, Volk. I haven''t faced someone like you in years." Volk nodded, a rare flicker of respect in his eyes. "And you''re no ordinary Orc. Your strength is impressive. You''ll be a great commander in my horde!" Kragath laughed, the sound deep and booming. "Impressive? Coming from you, that''s high praise. But you haven''t seen anything from me, yet!" They began to circle again, their muscles tense, their weapons ready. "Yes, this isn''t over," Kragath said, his grin fading. "I''ve seen what you can do, and now it''s time to see your limits. I will now show you some little true power of mine!" Volk raised his gauntlet, its glow intensifying. "Why not them all and not best around the bush?" Chapter 240 - 240: Huh? What? The forest seemed to hold its breath as Volk and Kragath squared off once more. The circle of Orcs surrounding them erupted into roars, their voices forming a deafening wall of sound. Neither warrior flinched. Their focus was razor-sharp, their muscles coiled like spring-loaded traps. Kragath''s grin widened as he raised his massive axe, the jagged blade catching the sunlight and casting menacing reflections on the ground. "If that''s what you want," he growled. "Show me what kind of Warchief you really are." Volk''s gauntlet hummed with energy as he raised it in defiance. "And you, gladiator. Show me if you''re more than just a slave who fights for scraps." Their weapons clashed with a BOOM! The force of their collision sent shockwaves rippling through the ground. Volk slid back a few feet, his boots digging furrows into the dirt. Kragath didn''t budge. Instead, he surged forward, his axe slicing through the air with terrifying precision. Volk ducked, the blade missing his head by inches, and retaliated with a lightning-fast jab. His gauntlet struck Kragath''s ribs with a CRACK!, but the gladiator barely flinched. He swung his axe in a brutal backhand, forcing Volk to leap back. "You''re quick," Kragath said, his voice carrying a grudging respect. "But quick won''t save you." Volk didn''t reply. He darted in again, his gauntlet glowing as he delivered a flurry of punches aimed at Kragath''s torso. Each blow landed with a THUD!, but Kragath countered with a sweeping kick that caught Volk in the side. WHAM! Volk tumbled but rolled back onto his feet, his gauntlet raised defensively. "Smooth," he muttered, his breathing heavy. "Too smooth." Kragath smirked. "You noticed." The gladiator launched himself forward, his movements fluid and unpredictable. He swung his axe low, forcing Volk to leap, and then twisted mid-swing, bringing the weapon around in a diagonal slash. Volk barely managed to block, his gauntlet sparking violently as it absorbed the impact. "Where did you learn to move like that?" Volk demanded, his voice strained. Kragath pressed the attack, his strikes relentless. "The arenas," he said between swings. "They don''t just train your body. They train your mind. Your reflexes. Every opponent teaches you something new." Volk grunted as he dodged another slash, his gauntlet firing off a burst of energy to push Kragath back. "You fight like Baron Geisler," he said. "But better." Kragath laughed, a harsh, guttural sound. "Humans are weak, even their best warriors. But they have tricks. Tricks that even Orcs can learn and I teach it to you now," he said. Volk charged, his gauntlet aimed at Kragath''s chest, but the gladiator sidestepped with eerie grace. His axe came around in a brutal arc, forcing Volk to twist his body unnaturally to avoid the blade. SHING! The edge of the axe grazed Volk''s armor, tearing through the leather and leaving a shallow cut beneath. Kragath''s axe began to glow faintly, a strange energy radiating from its jagged edge. His movements became even smoother, his strikes more precise. Volk''s eyes narrowed. "You''re using it," he said, his tone accusatory. Kragath grinned. "Of course. The energy. I learned to harness it from watching the humans. It''s not magic. It''s instinct. Focus. You should try it." Volk scowled, his gauntlet pulsing as he gathered energy. "I don''t need tricks to beat you." Kragath lunged again, his axe carving through the air with terrifying speed. Volk blocked with his gauntlet, but the force of the impact sent him stumbling back. Kragath didn''t let up. He pressed forward, his strikes so fast and fluid that Volk barely had time to react. Volk was on the defensive now, his movements growing more desperate. Each of Kragath''s attacks came within a hair''s breadth of landing a fatal blow. CLANG! WHAM! CRACK! Volk''s gauntlet sparked wildly as it absorbed hit after hit. His breathing grew labored, his muscles burning with exertion. "You''re slowing down," Kragath taunted, his strikes unrelenting. "Is that all the strength of a Warchief?" Volk grit his teeth, refusing to yield. He ducked under a horizontal slash and retaliated with an uppercut, his gauntlet flaring as it connected with Kragath''s jaw. KABOOM! The impact sent Kragath staggering, but he recovered almost instantly, his grin never fading. "You''ve got power," he admitted, spitting blood onto the ground. "But power means nothing without control." Volk''s mind raced. Kragath''s energy-enhanced movements were too unpredictable, too smooth. It was like fighting a storm. Every time Volk thought he had an opening, Kragath was already one step ahead. Kragath swung his axe in a vicious overhead strike, and Volk raised his gauntlet to block. The impact sent a shockwave through the clearing, the ground beneath them cracking under the force. BOOM! Volk''s knees buckled, and for a moment, it seemed like he might fall. "Give up," Kragath said, his voice calm but commanding. "You''ve fought well, but you can''t win." Volk glared up at him, his eyes burning with defiance. "I''m not done yet." With a roar, he pushed Kragath back, his gauntlet glowing brighter than ever. He unleashed a barrage of punches, each one faster and more powerful than the last. KRAK! BAM! WHOOSH! Kragath struggled to keep up, his energy-enhanced movements faltering under Volk''s relentless assault. But just as Volk thought he was gaining the upper hand, Kragath''s axe swung in a wide arc, forcing him to leap back. Both warriors were panting now, their bodies battered and bruised. The forest around them was littered with broken branches and craters from their attacks. Kragath smirked, his grip tightening on his axe. "You''re good," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "Almost like those top tier I''ve faced in years." Volk raised his gauntlet, its glow unwavering. "And you''re strong," he admitted. "Strong enough to lead. But I''m stronger." They locked eyes, their determination unshaken. "Are you gonna get serious now?" Kragath asked, his grin widening. Volk nodded, his gauntlet pulsing with renewed energy. "Yes, I''ll finish you off now!" Kragath tightened his grip on his axe, the energy coursing through it crackling audibly. He raised it high, his biceps bulging as he prepared to bring the weapon down in a devastating slash. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. At the same time, his off-hand sword gleamed, positioned for a secondary strike. This dual-weapon approach was a hallmark of his arena days, a strategy that had crushed countless opponents. Volk stood his ground, his gauntlet humming faintly, his stance low and calm. "Die with honor, Warchief!" Kragath roared, bringing his axe down with earth-shattering force. But Volk was gone. KRA-KOOM! The axe smashed into the ground where Volk had stood, splitting the earth in a jagged crack. Dust and debris exploded into the air. For a moment, Kragath''s confident grin faltered. Then, from his blind spot, Volk darted in. SWOOSH! The air hissed as Volk''s fist shot forward. Kragath twisted at the last second, narrowly avoiding the blow. He swung his sword in retaliation, but Volk ducked under it effortlessly. Kragath blinked. "Lucky," he muttered, spinning around to face Volk again. He surged forward, his axe sweeping horizontally in a wide arc. Volk backflipped out of range, his movements fluid and precise. Kragath pressed the attack, his axe and sword moving in tandem like a whirlwind of steel. Each strike was calculated, his years of gladiatorial experience evident in every motion. But Volk weaved through the onslaught like a shadow. KLANG! The axe missed his head by mere inches. SWISH! The sword grazed the air where his torso had been. Kragath growled in frustration, his attacks becoming more ferocious. "Stand still!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the forest. Volk didn''t respond. He stayed light on his feet, dodging and sidestepping every blow. His gauntlet remained inactive, his fists loose at his sides. It was as if he didn''t need to attack¡ªhe was letting Kragath exhaust himself. The gladiator snarled, shifting tactics. He feinted with his sword, drawing Volk to the left, and then brought his axe around in a brutal diagonal slash. Volk leaned back, the blade missing him by a hair''s breadth. Kragath followed up immediately, thrusting his sword toward Volk''s chest. Volk twisted his body, the blade grazing his armor but failing to pierce it. "What are you?" Kragath growled, his breath heavy. "How are you predicting my moves?" Volk finally spoke, his tone calm and measured. "I''m not predicting anything. I''m just watching." The fight dragged on, Kragath''s movements becoming more erratic. Sweat dripped from his brow, his chest heaving with exertion. Volk, in contrast, seemed unbothered. His breathing remained steady, his eyes sharp. Kragath swung his axe in a massive overhead strike. Volk stepped to the side effortlessly. THUD! The axe embedded itself in the ground, and Kragath had to wrench it free. The realization dawned on him then. Volk wasn''t just lucky. He wasn''t guessing. He was reading Kragath''s every move. Every shift of his shoulders, every twitch of his fingers¡ªVolk was seeing it all. "No... impossible," Kragath muttered, his voice filled with disbelief. Volk smirked faintly, his stance unchanging. "Your movements are too obvious. Too rehearsed. Arena fights don''t prepare you for real battles." Kragath roared in defiance, his pride wounded. He charged at Volk, his weapons swinging wildly. But Volk continued to evade, his motions smooth and deliberate. KLANG! WHOOSH! THUD! Each missed strike left Kragath more vulnerable. Volk began to counter subtly¡ªnudging Kragath off-balance with a shoulder check here, redirecting a swing with a light push there. The crowd of Orcs watching the fight started to murmur. Kragath, the undefeated gladiator, was being toyed with. Kragath made one final attempt, channeling all his remaining energy into a devastating double strike. He raised both his axe and sword, the weapons glowing brightly as he brought them down with all his might. Volk sidestepped at the last second. BOOM! The weapons hit the ground, creating a crater. Before Kragath could recover, Volk stepped in. His gauntlet flared with light as he delivered a precise punch to Kragath''s ribs. CRACK! The impact sent Kragath flying back, his weapons slipping from his hands. He crashed to the ground, groaning in pain. Volk approached him slowly, his gauntlet dimming. He stood over the fallen gladiator, his expression unreadable. "Accept defeat!" Chapter 241 - 241: You have no idea Kragath groaned, clutching his ribs as he sat up, his labored breathing echoing in the tense silence. The surrounding Orcs remained frozen, their gazes fixed on the two warriors. Then, with a grunt of effort, Kragath muttered, "Okay." He extended a hand as if accepting defeat and offering peace. Volk nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. "You''ve made the right choice," he began, taking a step forward. But as he reached out, Kragath''s fingers twitched. Suddenly¡ªSWOOSH! The arena-hardened Orc lunged forward with a speed that belied his injuries. His fingers curled into claws, aiming for Volk''s throat. The crowd gasped, their collective breath held in suspense. But Volk''s reflexes were sharper. He sidestepped with uncanny grace, Kragath''s strike missing him by inches. WHOOSH! S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk spun around, his eyes narrowing. "Really?" he barked, his voice sharp with disappointment. Kragath grinned wickedly, showing bloodied teeth. "Mak''Gora isn''t about honor. It''s about survival, Warchief. Life and death." Volk growled, raising his gauntlet and pointing it directly at Kragath, who was crouched like a wounded predator. "Do you even understand what you''ve just done?" Volk began, his tone rising. "You call yourself an Orc¡ªa warrior¡ªbut you''ve insulted the very spirit of Mak''Gora. This wasn''t just a fight; it was a test of leadership! A test of worthiness!" He paced back and forth, his frustration boiling over. "And you? You chose to sully that! You chose to strike me down like a coward! A dishonorable coward!" Kragath sneered, blood dripping from his mouth. "Honor?" he spat. "What good is honor when you''re dead? You think the humans care about honor? You think they won''t stab you in the back the moment they can?" Volk stopped pacing, glaring at Kragath. "I''m not a human!" he snapped, his voice reverberating through the clearing. "We are Orcs! We have traditions, principles! Mak''Gora is sacred! It''s a duel to prove strength and resolve, not an excuse for treachery!" Kragath laughed bitterly, his body trembling from the effort. "Sacred? Tell me, Warchief, how many Mak''Goras have you fought? How many times have you put your life on the line?" "Enough to know what it means," Volk replied coldly. "Enough to know that leadership isn''t just about brute strength. It''s about trust, respect, and unity. Without those, a horde is nothing but a rabble of fools swinging axes at shadows." Kragath dragged himself to one knee, his axe clutched weakly in his hand. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes burned with defiance. "You speak like a human," he hissed. "Mak''Gora is not about unity. It''s about survival. It''s about killing your opponent before they kill you. That''s the only rule that matters." Volk scoffed. "That''s the rule of desperate men. Of scavengers and beasts. You''ve fought in human arenas too long, Kragath. Their corruption has tainted you." "Tainted me?" Kragath''s voice rose. He staggered to his feet, his legs shaking but holding firm. "You think you''re better because you''ve read some scrolls or heard some stories about honor? Let me tell you what Mak''Gora really is¡ªit''s a fight for your life. No rules. No mercy. Only the strong survive. That''s the way of the Orcs!" Volk shook his head, his expression hardening. "No, that''s the way of the weak. The way of those too afraid to build something greater. You''re stuck in the past, Kragath, clinging to an outdated idea of strength. The world is changing, and if you don''t adapt, you''ll be left behind." Kragath laughed again, though it was laced with pain. "Adapt? By following your so-called honor? By letting my guard down and trusting you to spare me? No. I''ll fight until my last breath, Warchief. That''s the only way I know." Kragath roared, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. His axe flared with energy as he lunged at Volk, swinging wildly. CLANG! Volk raised his gauntlet, deflecting the blow. Kragath followed up with a series of strikes, each one faster and more desperate than the last. But Volk was ready. He dodged and parried with precision, his movements calm and measured. "You''re done, Kragath," Volk said, his voice steady. "You can barely stand. This fight is over." "Not until one of us is dead!" Kragath bellowed, raising his axe for one final strike. Volk stepped in close, his gauntlet glowing. He slammed his fist into Kragath''s chest. BOOM! The impact sent Kragath flying backward. He hit the ground hard, his weapons clattering beside him. Blood pooled beneath him as he struggled to breathe. Volk walked over, standing above the fallen gladiator. He knelt, pressing the gauntlet against Kragath''s neck. "You''re finished," he said, his tone cold. Kragath coughed, blood spilling from his lips. His defiance flickered, replaced by a flicker of fear. Volk leaned in closer, his voice low. "I told you¡ªI''ll spare you for now. But try something like that again, and I won''t hesitate to end you. Do you understand?" Kragath nodded weakly, his strength finally giving out. The gauntlet hummed softly as Volk rose to his feet, turning to address the crowd of Orcs. They were silent, their faces a mix of awe and fear. "Mak''Gora is over," Volk declared. "Kragath has lost. The horde moves forward¡ªtogether." And with that, he walked away, leaving Kragath broken but alive. Meanwhile, Kragath lay sprawled on the blood-soaked dirt, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. For a moment, there was only silence, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. Then, unexpectedly, a sound emerged¡ªa weak, raspy chuckle. Volk paused mid-step, turning to glance back at the fallen gladiator. The chuckle grew louder. It rumbled from Kragath''s chest like the first tremor of an earthquake. His cracked lips parted, revealing bloodied teeth, and the sound swelled into something deeper¡ªa laugh. The laugh started as a dry, broken sound, barely audible over the whispers of the gathered Orcs. But it refused to fade. It grew, rumbling in Kragath''s throat like a storm brewing in the distance. "Huh¡­" he muttered between shallow breaths, his voice ragged yet defiant. "Heh¡­heh-heh¡­ha¡­ha-ha-ha¡­" The Orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their confusion evident. Some stepped back, their instincts telling them something was wrong. Kragath''s laughter deepened, taking on a guttural edge. His body shook violently, not from pain or exhaustion, but from the force of his mirth. Blood dripped from his split lip, but he didn''t seem to notice. "Ha¡­ha-ha¡­HAHAHA!" The sound echoed through the clearing, bouncing off the surrounding trees. It was wild, untamed, and unsettling. The kind of laugh that didn''t just fill the air but dug into your bones, making your skin crawl. "What''s wrong with him?" an Orc muttered, gripping his weapon tightly. Another shrugged, his eyes darting nervously between Kragath and Volk. "He''s gone mad¡­" But Kragath wasn''t mad. At least, not entirely. His laughter continued, each burst louder and more unhinged than the last. It rose like a crescendo, building toward something unstoppable. Volk turned fully, his brow furrowing as he watched Kragath convulse on the ground, clutching his stomach. "What''s so funny?" he asked, his tone cold but tinged with curiosity. Kragath ignored him, his laughter breaking into fits and starts. His voice was raw, cracking under the strain, but still, it persisted. "You think this is over?" Kragath wheezed between gasps. "You¡­ha-ha-ha¡­you really think¡­ha-ha-ha-ha¡­you''ve won?" Volk''s eyes narrowed. "You lost. Accept it." "Lost?" Kragath repeated, his laughter roaring back to life. "You don''t understand, Warchief. You''ve¡­ha-ha-ha¡­you''ve only just begun to fight." The sound grated on the nerves of the surrounding Orcs. One of them, a towering brute with jagged scars crisscrossing his chest, growled low in his throat. "Shut up, Kragath," he snarled, stepping forward. Kragath''s laughter didn''t waver. If anything, it grew louder, almost triumphant. "Enough!" the scarred Orc roared. He stomped toward Kragath, raising a massive foot, and slammed it down onto his chest. THUD! Kragath grunted but didn''t stop laughing. The sound spilled from his lips, even as blood bubbled up and stained his teeth. Another Orc, smaller but no less furious, joined in. He swung a heavy fist, smashing it into Kragath''s jaw. The impact echoed like a drumbeat. But Kragath''s laugh only stuttered, resuming even louder than before. "Why won''t you stop?" the smaller Orc growled, his voice trembling with frustration. "Hit him again!" another shouted. They piled onto him, fists and feet raining down in a flurry of violence. Each blow landed with sickening force¡ªTHUD! CRACK! SMACK!¡ªbut Kragath remained undeterred. His laughter filled the air, drowning out the sound of their strikes. "Enough!" Volk barked, his voice sharp as a blade. The Orcs hesitated, pulling back reluctantly. But even as they stepped away, Kragath''s body twitched, and his laughter rolled on. Kragath spat blood onto the ground, his chest heaving as he finally began to quiet. His voice was hoarse, but his words were clear. "You¡­ha-ha¡­you think you''ve won," he said, his tone laced with defiance. He turned his bloodied face toward Volk, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "But you¡­ha-ha-ha¡­you have no idea." The words hung in the air like a curse, chilling the gathered Orcs to their core. Chapter 242 - 242: The reason Volk narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the bloodied, laughing form of Kragath. The other Orcs had fallen silent, their earlier frenzy fading into a tense stillness as they watched their Warchief confront the fallen gladiator. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "What are you talking about, Kragath?" Volk asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. Kragath''s laughter faltered for a moment, his shoulders shaking as he drew in a wheezing breath. But then it returned, louder, deeper, more manic. "What¡­am I talking about?" Kragath rasped, his lips curling into a crimson-streaked grin. His voice was strained, yet it carried an eerie, mocking edge. "What am I talking about?" He repeated the question, louder this time, the words punctuated by laughter. "What am I talking about?" he bellowed, his voice cracking but unrelenting. He dragged himself into a half-sitting position, leaning on his battered arms. "Oh, you really don''t know, do you? HA! What am I talking about?!" The other Orcs exchanged uneasy glances, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. Volk''s jaw tightened. "Enough games. Speak clearly." Kragath ignored him, his laughter growing even more unhinged. "What am I talking about?!" he roared again, slamming his fist into the ground. Blood dripped from his knuckles, but he didn''t seem to care. "What am I talking about?!" One of the younger Orcs in the crowd shifted uncomfortably, his brows knitting together. "What is he saying?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Another Orc, older and scarred, growled in frustration. "He''s just mad. Beaten too many times. Ignore him." But Kragath''s laughter didn''t let them. It was infectious in the worst way, gnawing at their nerves and demanding attention. "Do you have any idea¡­" Kragath finally gasped, his voice dropping into a hoarse whisper that was somehow even more menacing than his earlier outbursts. He tilted his head, fixing Volk with a bloodshot glare. "Do you have any idea what you''ve done?" Volk didn''t flinch, but his gaze sharpened. "I''ve defeated you. I''ve claimed your horde. That''s all." Kragath chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Is it, though? Is that all you''ve done?" He spat blood onto the dirt and grinned, his teeth stained red. "You beat me. You humiliated me. And now you think it''s over?" The air grew heavier with every word he spoke, the tension thickening like a storm cloud. "Do you have any idea what you did?" Kragath asked again, his tone mockingly calm. His eyes scanned the gathered Orcs, lingering on their wary expressions. "Beating me¡­ Becoming a new Chief¡­ Forming your little horde¡­" The Orcs bristled at his tone, but no one spoke. Even Volk remained silent, his eyes locked on Kragath as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. Kragath smirked, his head lolling slightly as he leaned back against the dirt. "No? None of you? Really?" His voice dripped with derision. "You don''t have the faintest idea what you''ve done?" The gathered Orcs exchanged confused glances, their earlier bravado now replaced with unease. "What is he saying?" one of them muttered. Another growled under his breath. "He''s just trying to mess with us." But Volk wasn''t so sure. He stepped closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over Kragath. "Enough riddles. If you have something to say, say it." Kragath tilted his head back and let out another laugh, this one quieter but no less unsettling. "Oh, I''ll say it," he murmured, his voice a chilling whisper that seemed to seep into the very ground. "But first¡­" He paused, his bloodied lips curling into a twisted grin. "Ask yourselves¡­ What have you really done?" The question hung in the air like a blade, leaving Volk and his horde to stare at Kragath in bewilderment. None of them could answer, not even their Warchief. And the silence that followed was louder than any battle cry. Kragath''s bloodied chest heaved as his laughter finally subsided, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The Orcs around him shifted uncomfortably, their earlier confidence replaced with unease. Volk stood tall, his piercing eyes fixed on the fallen gladiator, waiting for his cryptic mockery to unravel into something tangible. Kragath tilted his head, his gaze sweeping across the gathered Orcs with a strange mixture of disdain and pity. His voice, low and hoarse at first, carried the weight of a confession that demanded to be heard. "You fools," he began, his lips curling into a grim smile. "You think you''ve won something. You think you''ve done something great by beating me down. But do you have any idea what you''ve just destroyed?" "What are you talking about?" Volk demanded, his tone sharp. Kragath coughed, blood spattering his chin, but the grin never left his face. "What am I talking about?" he echoed, the words dripping with derision. "I''m talking about me. About the burden I''ve carried. The sacrifices I''ve made. The chains I''ve worn so you¡ªall of you¡ªcould still walk this land!" The Orcs stirred, their expressions darkening. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but no one dared to interrupt him. Kragath leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Volk''s with a feral intensity. "You think I''m just some brute who fought in the human arenas for sport? Some savage who clawed his way to power for glory?" He spat on the ground, the crimson-stained saliva a stark testament to his wounds. "No. I was your savior. The reason the humans didn''t wipe you out the moment they laid eyes on you." The Orcs exchanged glances, their confusion mounting. "What do you mean?" one of them finally asked, his voice barely above a growl. Kragath chuckled, a bitter, hollow sound. "This region? This forest? The mountains you hide in? It should have been cleansed long ago. The humans wanted to eradicate us. They wanted our heads on pikes and our bodies fed to their hounds." He jabbed a finger into the dirt, his voice rising with every word. "And do you know what stopped them? Me! I stopped them! By playing their game. By bowing my head. By offering them just enough blood to satisfy their hunger without making them think we were worth a full-scale war." The Orcs recoiled, their faces twisting in a mix of disbelief and disgust. "I fought in their arenas," Kragath continued, his voice raw with emotion. "I spilled blood for their entertainment. I let them chain me, whip me, starve me¡ªall so they wouldn''t look too closely at the rest of you. All so they wouldn''t think it was worth hunting you down like animals!" His eyes burned as he glared at the gathered crowd. "Do you think I enjoyed it? Do you think I wanted to kneel to those weaklings in their shiny armor? I hated it. Every moment of it. But I did it. For you." One of the Orcs growled, his fists clenching. "You call that saving us? You betrayed your own kind! You let them take Orcs!" "Yes, I did!" Kragath roared, his voice shaking with fury. "I let them take a few. A handful. To keep the rest of you alive!" The crowd bristled, but Kragath pressed on, his tone hardening. "You think you''re so righteous? So pure? Tell me, what would you have done? Fought back? Died like dogs? Left your families to be hunted down, slaughtered, or worse?" Kragath''s gaze swept over the group, his expression a mask of contempt and sorrow. "You have no idea what it means to bear this kind of burden. To know that every swing of your weapon, every drop of blood you spill, is another day of survival for your people." He turned his eyes to Volk, his voice softening. "And you. You think you''re a leader now? A Warchief? Do you have the stomach for it? The will to do whatever it takes to keep your horde alive? Even if it means staining your soul in ways you''ll never wash clean?" Volk''s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Kragath laughed bitterly. "I didn''t just fight in their arenas. I negotiated with their lords. I gave them what they wanted¡ªblood, sport, submission¡ªso they wouldn''t come looking for the rest of you. "And now? Now that you''ve beaten me? Now that you''ve claimed my horde?" He spread his arms, his grin turning into a snarl. "You''ve broken the balance. You''ve destroyed the fragile truce that kept the humans from marching into this forest and burning everything to the ground." The crowd erupted in murmurs, some of the Orcs looking uneasy, others furious. "Lies," one of them spat. "You just want us to pity you." "Is it pity," Kragath shot back, "if it''s the truth?" Another Orc growled. "You should have fought them, not bargained with them!" Kragath''s laugh returned, harsh and grating. "Fought them? With what army? With what weapons? You don''t even know the size of their forces, the strength of their steel. You''re just blind fools who think courage alone can win wars." Volk stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Enough. If what you''re saying is true, then tell me this: what happens now?" Kragath''s laughter faded, leaving only a grim smile. "Now?" He leaned back, his bloodied body trembling with exhaustion. "Now, you deal with the consequences. You deal with the humans who will come looking for me. For all of you." He chuckled softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You''ve killed your savior. Let''s see if you can save yourselves." The Orcs fell silent, the weight of Kragath''s words settling over them like a storm cloud. Even Volk found himself at a loss, the enormity of what he''d just learned leaving him with more questions than answers. "What¡­have we done?" one of the Orcs finally muttered, echoing Kragath''s earlier taunt. Kragath smirked, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back. "Exactly," he murmured. "What have you done?" Chapter 243 - 243: Threat Kragath''s battered frame trembled as he fixed his eyes on Volk, his smirk fading into something far colder. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he let out a slow, gravelly sigh. "You," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, but each word carried like a thunderclap in the silence. "You think you''re strong. You''ve reached the twenty-fifth stage of a Mana Orc. That''s impressive for someone like you, I''ll give you that. But do you even know what that means in the grand scheme of things?" Volk''s brows furrowed, his fist still clenched at his side. "What are you talking about now, Kragath?" "What am I talking about?" Kragath spat, forcing himself to sit upright despite the immense pain wracking his body. His eyes glinted with a dangerous light. "I''m talking about the monsters you''re about to face. You think you''ve accomplished something, climbing to twenty-five? "Reaching that stage is nothing compared to the nightmares that dwell in the service of the humans. Especially under her¡ªthe Viscountess." He leaned forward, his bloodied fingers clawing at the dirt. "You''re strong, Volk. I''ll admit that. But compared to the true champions I''ve seen in the arenas¡­compared to the ones who fight under her banner? You''re a pebble against a mountain." Kragath''s voice gained strength, fueled by rage and bitter memories. "Let me tell you about them¡ªthe champions of the human arenas. The ones who stand at the pinnacle, with levels beyond your comprehension. Seven names, Volk. Seven nightmares who''ve carved their names into the flesh of thousands." He raised a trembling hand, pointing at Volk as if daring him to listen. One finger. Xerath, the Bladewind of Avarice. "A peak Fortieth-stage Berserker, the very air trembles when he swings his dual greatswords. He moves like a storm, faster than the eye can follow, slicing through legions in seconds. His blades? "Forged from dragon bone and infused with mana so potent it burns the air around him. He doesn''t fight. He annihilates. Every swing of his sword is a death sentence. You wouldn''t last a heartbeat against him." Two fingers. Saphira, the Crimson Viper. "A Thirty-Ninth-stage Sorceress-Assassin. She doesn''t kill with brute force¡ªshe doesn''t need to. Her poisons seep into the mind, twisting her prey into puppets before she slaughters them. "She can vanish into the shadows, reappearing with her daggers buried in your throat. I''ve seen her bring entire armies to their knees without spilling a drop of her own blood." Three fingers. Gorath, the Beast of Black Iron. "A Thirty-Eighth-stage Gladiator. This one? A walking fortress. His skin is tougher than steel, his strength unmatched. "Even arena champions have shattered their weapons against his hide. He fights barehanded, crushing skulls like ripe fruit. They say he once tore an ogre limb from limb for daring to insult him." Four fingers. Ilena, the Soul Reaver. "A Thirty-Seventh-stage Necromancer. She doesn''t just kill¡ªshe claims. Every warrior who falls to her joins her undead army, bound to her will for eternity. "Her magic corrodes flesh, shatters bone, and breaks spirits. Even the bravest Orcs I''ve known wept at the thought of facing her. She doesn''t stop until everything around her is a graveyard." Five fingers. Kael, the Stormborn Spear. "A Thirty-Sixth-stage Elemental Warrior. His spear dances like lightning, striking with the fury of a tempest. "He commands the skies themselves, calling storms to tear his enemies apart. One strike from him isn''t just an attack¡ªit''s an act of nature. He''s turned entire battlefields to ash with a single thrust." Six. Varya, the Scarlet Tempest "A Thirty-Fifth-stage Duelist. Her grace is as deadly as her speed. She wields twin rapiers, slicing through flesh before her opponents even realize they''ve been cut. "Her movements are a blur, her attacks relentless. She doesn''t just defeat her enemies¡ªshe humiliates them, dancing around their attacks as if they''re children." Seven fingers. Drakos, the Iron Warden. "A Fortieth-peak Juggernaut. The strongest. The most unyielding. He''s a mountain that moves, a titan that crushes everything in his path. "His hammer can split the ground, his shield can withstand dragonfire, and his sheer presence can make armies falter. He is the champion of champions, the living embodiment of the arena''s brutality." Kragath''s voice dropped, his earlier fury giving way to something colder. "These aren''t just warriors, sir, the new Orc horde leader. They''re legends among us Gladiators. Monsters shaped by the arenas, tempered in blood and pain. And you? You''re just an Orc who got lucky." Volk''s jaw tightened, his muscles tensing as he listened. Kragath sneered. "You think defeating me means anything? I was just a tool. A puppet to keep the humans entertained. The champions I''ve named¡ªthey''d kill you before you could even lift your weapon. "And without me? Without my protection? You''ll all be thrown into the pits eventually. You''ll be chained, beaten, and forced to fight until you''re nothing but a broken husk. He gestured weakly to the gathered Orcs, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "These fools think you''re their savior. Their Warchief. But they don''t see what I see. You''re just another pawn. "Another body to be thrown into the grinder. And when the humans come for you¡ªand they will come for you¡ªyou''ll wish you''d listened to me." Kragath''s lips twisted into a weak, mocking smile as he leaned back against the dirt. "Enjoy your little horde while it lasts, Volk. Because soon enough, you''ll be just like me. A slave. A dog. "Fighting for scraps in their arenas. And when that day comes? Remember this moment. Remember how you thought you were strong." The Orcs around him shifted uneasily, their earlier defiance replaced with uncertainty. Volk stood silent, the weight of Kragath''s words hanging heavily in the air. Soon, his eyes darkened, his towering frame casting a shadow over the battered Kragath. He stared down at the once-proud Orc, his expression blank but his presence suffocating. The silence was palpable, heavy enough to choke the air out of the surrounding Orcs. Then, finally, Volk spoke, his voice low, calm, and chilling. "And?" Kragath froze, his lips parting slightly in confusion. "W-what?" Volk stepped closer, his boots crunching against the dirt with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm. Each step sounded like the tolling of a death knell. He stopped just short of Kragath, his gaze piercing, unrelenting. "Is that all?" Volk asked again, his tone laced with a quiet venom that sent shivers down every spine in the vicinity. Kragath''s mouth opened to speak, but no words came out at first. He swallowed hard, his bravado wavering. "I¡­ I told you¡­ the champions¡­ the arena¡­" Volk tilted his head slightly, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator playing with its prey. "Really?" He leaned down, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "are there more?" he asked. Kragath''s breath hitched. "I''m warning you! You don''t understand what''s out there! The champions¡ª" "Yeah?" Volk interrupted, his voice rising slightly, but still measured and cold. Kragath blinked, his confidence visibly eroding under Volk''s steady gaze. "You don''t care?!" he barked, attempting to summon his earlier fury, but his voice cracked. "You think so?" Volk said simply, standing tall again. His presence was towering, oppressive. "I don''t care?" Kragath''s hands trembled as he pushed himself slightly upright, his voice rising in desperation. "You arrogant fool! You don''t understand! They''ll hunt you down! They''ll carve through you and your horde like paper! The Viscountess will¡ª" Volk raised a hand, silencing him instantly. The sheer weight of his presence was enough to make even the surrounding Orcs unconsciously take a step back. "Viscountess?" Volk said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You think I fear her? You think I fear her champions? You think I fear anything that stands in my path?" He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that resonated in the chests of everyone present. Kragath''s face twisted in anger and panic. "You don''t get it! You''re just another Orc! You''re¡ª" "I am Volk," he interrupted again, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He took another step forward, his towering form now casting Kragath entirely in shadow. "I am not just another Orc. I am the one who defeated you. The one who crushed your pride. The one who spared your miserable life." Kragath flinched, his earlier confidence now completely gone. "Y-you¡­ You don''t understand¡­" Volk crouched down, his eyes level with Kragath''s. The intensity of his gaze was suffocating. "Can you elaborate what I don''t understand?" He asked again. Kragath''s breaths came in shallow gasps, his composure completely shattered. "They''ll come for you!" he stammered, his voice trembling. "They''ll¡­ they''ll come for you¡­ and when they do¡­ you''ll wish you''d listened to me!" Volk''s smirk widened. "Let them come." His voice was calm, unwavering. Kragath''s hands clawed at the dirt, his body trembling as he tried to summon some vestige of defiance. "You¡­ you don''t¡­" He paused, his voice breaking. "You don''t know what you''re doing. You''re condemning us all!" sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk leaned in closer, his face mere inches from Kragath''s. "So?" Kragath let out a choked laugh, but it was hollow, filled with fear. "You''re¡­ insane¡­" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "No," Volk said softly, his voice like a knife sliding between ribs. "How so?" Kragath''s laughter faltered entirely, replaced by a shuddering silence. The Orcs surrounding them watched, wide-eyed, as their once-feared leader crumbled into a shadow of his former self. "I-I¡­" Kragath stuttered, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "Y-you have no idea¡­ what you''re dealing with¡­" Volk rose to his full height, his gaze never leaving Kragath. "And you," he said, his voice cold and final, "Do you have any idea what I am capable of?" Kragath fell silent, his body trembling as he stared up at Volk, the weight of his presence crushing what little resolve remained. The gathered Orcs looked on, their faces pale with awe and terror, as their new Warchief stood victorious, unshaken, and utterly commanding. Chapter 244 - 244: Changes Suddenly, Volk''s expression shifted, the heavy tension in the air snapping like a taut string breaking. He stood tall, his lips curling into an unexpected smirk. Then, to the surprise of all, he began to clap. The sound was slow and deliberate at first, each clap echoing through the silent crowd like the toll of a great bell. Clap. Clap. Clap. The Orcs around him exchanged confused glances, unsure of what to make of this abrupt change in tone. Even Kragath, battered and trembling, looked up with a mix of confusion and suspicion. "Well said, Kragath," Volk began, his deep voice breaking the uneasy silence. He continued clapping, the sound now quicker, sharper. "You know what? I agree with you." Kragath blinked, his jaw slack. "W-what¡­?" "Yes." Volk nodded, his smirk widening. "You deserve credit. All of it. Without your sacrifice¡ªyour willingness to become the lapdog of humans¡ªnone of this would have been possible." He began to pace slowly around Kragath, his eyes scanning the gathered Orcs as he spoke. "It''s true. If not for you, those monsters¡ªthose humans¡ªwould''ve swept through this forest like a flood. They would''ve wiped out every last one of you. Without your¡­ bravery?" He paused, pretending to consider the word before nodding. "Yes, let''s call it bravery. Without your bravery, this horde wouldn''t exist. I wouldn''t have been able to gather you all under one banner." Kragath narrowed his eyes, unsure if Volk was mocking him or genuinely agreeing. "I did what I had to¡ª" "And you did it well!" Volk interrupted, his voice booming with theatrical enthusiasm. "A dog. A slave. A shield. You were all those things for them. And because of you, because you bore that humiliation, they allowed this forest to survive. They allowed the Orcs to live." The gathered Orcs murmured amongst themselves, uneasy. Volk''s tone was strange¡ªtoo friendly, too approving. "And let''s not forget the humans," Volk continued, his voice dropping into a mockingly reverent tone. "Those terrifying, shiny warriors. Their swords, their magic, their overwhelming numbers. Truly, Kragath, you were right to fear them." He paused and turned to face the horde directly. "Let''s all take a moment to remember how frightening they are." He held up his hands, as if summoning the fear itself. "Their glittering armor! Their endless ranks! Their champions who stand so tall, so powerful! They are everything we Orcs should fear. Right?" Some of the Orcs nodded hesitantly, others frowned, uncertain where this was going. "RIGHT?" Volk barked suddenly, his voice sharp enough to make them jump. "Yes!" Kragath interjected, desperate to regain some ground. "That''s what I''ve been trying to tell you! They''re too strong! You can''t¡ª" "But!" Volk held up a hand, silencing Kragath immediately. His smirk faded, replaced by a cold, commanding stare. "Times have changed." The words hung in the air, heavy and absolute. "What did you say?" Kragath stammered, his voice weak. "I said, times have changed." Volk''s voice was like a hammer, each syllable striking with deliberate force. "You speak of the past, of chains, of submission. But let me ask you, Kragath¡­" He crouched down, his eyes locking onto the fallen Orc. "Do you see chains on me? Do you see fear in my eyes? Do you see submission in my stride?" Kragath''s lips trembled, but he said nothing. Volk rose to his full height, towering over Kragath like a monolith. "Those humans you feared? Those champions you cowered before? They''re not gods. They''re not invincible. They''re flesh and blood, just like us. And flesh and blood can break. It can bleed. It can burn." He turned to the horde, his voice growing louder, more fervent. "We are not slaves. We are not dogs. We are Orcs! Born to fight. Born to conquer. Born to rise above those who would chain us!" The Orcs began to stir, their unease melting away as Volk''s words ignited a fire within them. "You call yourself our savior, Kragath," Volk continued, his voice a thunderous roar now. "But all you did was buy time with cowardice. And now that time is up. Because I''m here. And I don''t kneel. I don''t bow. And I sure as hell don''t fear humans!" He pointed a gauntleted finger at Kragath, his voice filled with scorn. "You speak of sacrifice as if you''re the only one who''s bled for this horde. But let me make one thing clear. Your time is over. Your fear dies here. Your chains end now. Because I am Volk, and this horde will never kneel again!" Kragath''s face twisted, a mix of anger, fear, and humiliation. "You''re a fool¡­" he muttered weakly. "No, Kragath," Volk said, his voice calm once more, dripping with finality. "You''re just scared, and I will show why you are scared!." The horde erupted in a deafening cheer, the sound shaking the very ground beneath them. Volk turned his back to Kragath, his gauntlet shining in the dim light. "To prove to all of you that times have changed," Volk said again, quieter this time, but no less powerful. And with that, he walked away, the horde following him like a tide. Not long, Volk''s footsteps came to a halt, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the uneven terrain. The Orcs behind him also stopped, their murmuring subsiding as they looked to their leader for guidance. Then, without warning¡ª DING! A sound rang in Volk''s head, clear and distinct, like a hammer striking steel. His vision flickered, and there it was¡ªa system notification hovering in front of his eyes, etched in radiant energy. [ Mission Complete: The Warchief''s Call! ] | Objective: Form a new horde in the Orzaroth Realm by adopting scattered Wild Orcs or Ogres. | Reward: Exact location and status of original horde members. Random radioactive horde power-up. | Failure: Horde marks disappearance. | Status: COMPLETED. | A brief moment of satisfaction flashed in Volk''s eyes as he read the completion message. But his focus was interrupted by an abrupt shift in the air. It started faintly, almost imperceptibly, like the gentle hum of a distant storm. Volk stiffened. His senses were sharp, attuned to even the smallest disturbances, and this¡­ this was unusual. His brows furrowed as he scanned the surroundings, and then he felt it. At first, it was so weak that even Volk questioned if it was real or just his imagination. The ground beneath his feet seemed to quiver ever so slightly, like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant. The Orcs behind him began murmuring again, confusion rippling through their ranks. One of the newly recruited Wild Orcs stepped forward, his face twisted in a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Warchief¡­? Do you feel that?" Volk raised a hand, silencing him immediately. "Relax," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "Stay still. Watch." --- The Horde''s Reactions The vibrations intensified, growing from a barely-there tremor to something tangible, almost alive. The Orcs began to shift uneasily. "What is this?" one gruff voice called out, its owner scratching at his chest as if trying to brush off an unseen insect. "Is it the humans?" another asked, his hand already reaching for his weapon. "No¡­ it''s something else¡­" murmured a female Orc, her eyes narrowing as she stomped her foot, trying to match the rhythm of the vibration. The sensation spread through their bodies now. It wasn''t just the ground¡ªit was them. The vibration started weak, like a faint shiver running up their spines. Then, it grew stronger, sharper, resonating deep within their bones. One Orc let out a startled gasp. "My arms¡ªthey''re¡­ shaking!" He held up his hands, the fingers trembling like leaves in a storm. Another clutched at his chest, his voice a mix of awe and fear. "It''s like my heart''s beating too fast, but I''m not even running!" Volk''s eyes narrowed. He turned, scanning his horde, taking in their various reactions. One Orc stomped his foot repeatedly, as if trying to quell the vibrations coursing through his legs. Another gritted her teeth, flexing her arms as if fighting to keep them still. A younger Orc dropped to one knee, slamming his fist into the dirt to steady himself. "What''s happening to us?" one called out, his voice tinged with panic. "It feels¡­ it feels like my blood is boiling!" shouted another, his veins bulging visibly against his green skin. "Silence!" Volk barked, his voice cutting through the growing cacophony like a blade. "Relax," he repeated, his voice calm but firm. He stood tall, his gauntleted hand raised as if to hold the vibrations themselves at bay. "Whatever this is, it''s not an attack. Focus. Let it happen." But the Orcs couldn''t relax. The vibrations only grew stronger. Their bodies trembled violently now, their muscles twitching uncontrollably. One Orc''s legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching at his chest. Another let out a guttural roar, swinging his axe wildly in an attempt to expel the strange energy. Volk, however, remained calm. His body vibrated just as much as the others, but his expression was one of cold focus. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, feeling the energy coursing through him. "It''s not pain," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "It''s power." As the vibrations reached a fever pitch, something incredible began to happen. The Orcs'' green skin glowed faintly, an ethereal light pulsing beneath the surface. Their eyes widened as they looked at one another, the glow spreading like wildfire through the horde. "Oh shit?" one whispered, staring at his glowing hands in awe. "Am I¡­ changing?" another asked, his voice trembling with both fear and wonder. The vibrations reached their peak, and then¡ªjust as suddenly as they had started¡ªthey stopped. The silence that followed was deafening. From his position behind the horde, Kragath watched the entire scene unfold, his battered body slumped against a boulder. His jaw, already bruised, dropped open further as he took in the sight before him. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "This can''t be," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His eyes darted from one glowing Orc to the next, then to Volk, who stood at the center of it all like a beacon of power. The gauntlet on Volk''s arm shimmered faintly, pulsating in time with the light radiating from the horde. "No¡­ no, this isn''t possible," Kragath muttered, his voice rising in pitch. "That energy¡­ that''s an Orc magic!!" He tried to stand, his legs shaking beneath him, but the sheer weight of the realization forced him back down. His hands gripped the dirt as he stared at Volk, his face pale with a mixture of awe and terror. "This can''t be!" Kragath shouted, his voice cracking. "You¡­ what are you?!" Chapter 245 - 245: Not enough The eerie silence following the mysterious vibrations enveloped the forest like a dense shroud. The once rowdy horde of Wild Orcs, gruff and unrefined, stood frozen in place. Each Orc examined themselves and the others, their breath catching in their throats. What had just happened? Their coarse laughter, feral grunts, and occasional curses had been replaced by the sound of rustling leaves and the faint hum of residual energy in the air. Volk stood in their midst, a towering figure, his piercing eyes darting over his newfound horde. His gauntlet shimmered faintly, emitting soft pulses of energy that seemed to resonate with the faint glow now emanating from every Orc. He clenched his fist, feeling nothing strange. However, as Volk looked at others, he knew that the system reward seemed not to focus on him but the new members of his horde. The change was undeniable. It wasn''t just him¡ªit was all of them. Suddenly, one by one, they would all notice the changes in their comrades. A bulky Orc near the back took a cautious step forward, his boots crunching against the dirt. His brows furrowed as he stared down at himself. Where once his body had been wrapped in poorly tanned animal hides, stitched haphazardly together with sinew, he now wore something entirely different. Gleaming metal adorned his torso¡ªa chest plate forged from a material that shimmered like liquid steel in the dappled sunlight. He ran a trembling hand over the surface, the texture unfamiliar. The light clinking sound of his gauntlet against the plate was as alien to him as the sensation of wearing something so solid. His jaw hung open, his tusks gleaming. "W-What¡­?" His voice was a guttural rasp, disbelief thick in his tone. Soon, the next thing comes. Another Orc, a female with braided hair and a scar running down her cheek, caught sight of her reflection in a nearby puddle. She gasped sharply, a sound that seemed almost too delicate for someone of her size. Her fingers traced the intricate carvings etched into the pauldrons now resting on her shoulders. They were decorated with runes glowing faintly, pulsating as if alive. "This¡­ this can''t be real," she whispered, her voice trembling. Her eyes darted to her comrades, desperate for confirmation. A young Orc with a chipped tusk stared at his newly armored arms. His bracers were engraved with swirling patterns resembling flames. They flickered faintly, like embers being fanned. He flexed his hands, testing their weight, and then slapped his chest plate. Clang! The resounding metallic echo startled him. "By the ancestors of all the Orcs and believers of the Orc horde," he muttered, his wide eyes scanning the group. "We''re¡­ warriors now?" Others in the horde began to take notice. Murmurs spread like wildfire. "What is this armor? It feels so light!" sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I look like one of the war legends my grandmother used to tell me about!" "Are we dreaming? Is this magic?" Meanwhile, Volk didn''t know or care if something changes in him, his presence stood apart from the horde, his presence even more commanding and intimidating than before. The light of his gauntlet intensified for a brief moment before settling into a steady, rhythmic glow. His armor had undergone the most dramatic transformation. His previously rugged, cobbled-together gear was now a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Blackened steel interwoven with jagged, glowing green veins covered his torso. His pauldrons flared outward like the wings of a great beast, and his greaves glinted with every subtle movement. He shifted his weight, testing the armor''s flexibility. The plates moved with him seamlessly, as if they were part of his very skin. His massive gauntlet felt heavier but more potent, the runes carved into it glowing brighter than ever. "Is there a change in me too?" Volk thought to himself as he still couldn''t notice, his sharp eyes scanning the bewildered horde, but after that he shook his head, "nor that important." The collective awe of the Orcs began to turn into one eighty degree. Their initial shock gave way to something deeper¡ªpride. They straightened their backs, their breaths coming quicker. Their glowing armor, no longer a source of confusion, now filled them with an almost intoxicating sense of invincibility. An older Orc with a deep, gravelly voice let out a booming laugh. He slammed his fist into his chest plate with a thud that echoed through the clearing. "We''re no longer the scattered rabble we once were!" he roared. His voice carried an unmistakable weight, stirring the emotions of those around him. Others joined in, their voices overlapping as they celebrated. "Look at us! We''re warriors!" "This is the start of something great!" "The humans won''t stand a chance against us now!" Amidst the growing fervor, not all Orcs reacted the same way. A younger female Orc with bright, curious eyes stared intently at the intricate patterns on her bracers. She traced them with her fingertips, her brow furrowing. "Where did this come from?" she muttered. "This isn''t just armor¡­ It''s something more." Nearby, a grizzled Orc with battle scars criss crossing his arms stood apart from the group. His hand rested uneasily on the hilt of his weapon. "This power," he murmured under his breath, "it feels¡­ unnatural. What did we tap into?" As the Orcs continued to marvel at their transformations, a low, almost imperceptible hum filled the air once more. The vibrations returned, but this time they weren''t random. They pulsed in unison, like the beat of a great drum. The horde fell silent, their laughter and chatter fading as they turned to Volk. He raised a hand. "Relax, it was just one of my welcoming gifts to join the horde," he commanded, his voice steady and calm. The vibrations grew stronger. The glowing runes on their armor began to shine brighter, casting an eerie light over the clearing. The Orcs shivered involuntarily, the energy coursing through them once more. "What''s happening now?" one of them asked, his voice tinged with nervousness. ¡­ On the other hand, behind the Horse''s army. Kragath watched the spectacle unfold. His battered body leaned against a tree, his eyes wide with disbelief. The once-proud warrior, who had mocked Volk and his horde not long ago, now felt a chill run down his spine. "This¡­ this," he muttered, his voice shaking. His jaw hung slack as he watched the transformations continue. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the rising fear in his chest. "Came from him?" ¡­ As the vibrations subsided, the Orcs stood tall, their glowing armor settling into a steady shimmer. The air was thick with an unspoken question. They turned their eyes to Volk, their leader, the one who had brought them together and led them to this moment. It was the female Orc from earlier who broke the silence. Her voice was soft but carried an unmistakable reverence. "Warchief," she said, her wide eyes glistening with a mix of awe and confusion, "did¡­ did you really do this for us? Is this preparation against humans that will come to us?" All eyes turned to Volk, their gazes filled with anticipation and wonder if it really came to him. The forest seemed to hold its breath, awaiting his answer. Chapter 246 - 246: Incomplete The question hung in the air, the female Orc''s wide-eyed wonder drilling into Volk like a spear. "Warchief," she repeated, her voice trembling with awe, "did you do this?" Volk paused for a moment, his glowing gauntlet slowly unclenching. His sharp eyes shifted to her, then scanned the faces of his newly transformed horde. They were looking at him with something unfamiliar¡ªreverence. Their wild, untamed natures were tempered by their curiosity and newfound loyalty. He glanced downward, feigning contemplation, but in truth, he was focusing on the system screen hovering faintly in his peripheral vision. Suspended in the air before him, the text glowed ominously: Mission Completed! The Warchief won''t be a Warchief without a horde. Mission: Collect a new member of the horde and form a new horde in the Orzaroth Realm. Adopt all the scattered Wild Orcs and join them to the horde. Rewards: Exact location and status of the original horde members and a random radioactive horde power-up! Failure: Horde marks disappearance. Status: Completed. Volk squinted at the display, his lips pressing into a firm line. The completion of the mission explained the strange vibrations and the incredible transformations his horde had undergone. But it didn''t explain how. Why was the system granting them power in this way? And why not him? Or is he getting jealous? Seems like it. He dismissed the thought for the moment and turned his attention back to the female Orc. He let out a low, rumbling chuckle, shaking his head slightly before responding. "Yes," Volk said, his voice like rolling thunder, "it came to me. It came to us¡ªa gift for the Horde. A gift earned through blood, sweat, and perseverance. "It is proof that we are no longer scattered and weak. We are warriors now. A proud horde, forged in the fires of hardship and united under one banner!" Just as he finished speaking, the familiar ding! of the system interrupted his thoughts. New Mission! The host, or the Warchief, was an Orc and an Ogre. The horde would be incomplete without an Ogre! Mission A: Defeat all the Ogres around. Mission B: Enslave all the Ogres. Mission C: Kill all the Ogres. Failure: Loss of the Horde authority and power-up. For the first time in a long while, Volk felt his pulse quicken. His confident expression faltered, just for a fraction of a second, but long enough that he immediately turned his back to the horde to hide it. "What is this?" he muttered under his breath. His eyes narrowed as he read the mission again. Unlike previous tasks, this one offered no rewards¡ªjust choices. Dangerous choices. Volk''s mind whirled as he paced in the shadow of a nearby tree, muttering aloud to himself. His voice was low and rumbling, but the horde could hear snippets of his words. "Defeat all the Ogres¡­" He let the words hang in the air, tasting their weight. "It''s not impossible. I''m strong enough. My horde has proven itself capable. But to fight Ogres¡­" He clenched his fist, the gauntlet tightening with a faint creak. "They''re not like Orcs. They''re bigger, meaner, and more stubborn than a mountain. Fighting them would mean losses. Heavy losses." Volk rubbed his chin, his sharp tusks gleaming. "But defeating them would send a message. The Orcs would grow bolder, more confident. A victory over the Ogres would solidify my leadership¡­" He paused, shaking his head. "But at what cost?" He shifted his focus to the second option. "Enslave all the Ogres," he murmured. His lip curled slightly in distaste. "To enslave¡­ that''s not the way of the Horde. Orcs may dominate, but we don''t stoop to chains and collars. Enslaving them would create dissent. "Resentment. They''d bide their time and strike back when we''re weakest. No. Enslaving them is no solution¡ªit''s a slow poison." S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His tone grew more resolute as he dismissed the idea, but the third option loomed before him like a dark shadow. "Kill all the Ogres," he said quietly, the words heavy on his tongue. His gauntlet flexed reflexively. "Wipe them out completely. Remove their threat forever. It would be the simplest solution. A final one." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head again. "No. That''s not the way of a Warchief. Orcs and Ogres may have their differences, but they''re not so different. "Killing them all would be more than just a waste¡ªit would be a betrayal of what it means to be part of the Horde. A Horde unites, not destroys. So what should I do? There''s no telling how rare they are, and maybe we could use them in the future too¡­" Volk stopped pacing, crossing his arms as he gazed out at his horde. They were watching him silently, waiting for his decision. He could see the potential in them, their newfound strength and unity. He had a responsibility now¡ªa duty to lead them wisely. "This system," Volk growled under his breath. "It''s evolved somehow. The missions are more complex. No rewards this time. Just risks. And consequences." He clenched his gauntlet one last time, exhaling deeply. "There''s only one choice that preserves the integrity of the Horde." Volk turned back to his horde, his expression calm but resolute. His deep voice boomed across the clearing as he addressed them. "We march forward," he declared. "This time, we must test the armor that I have given to all of you! So on this day, we confront the Ogres. We face them in battle, prove our strength, and defeat them. But we do not enslave. We do not slaughter needlessly. We are warriors, not butchers!" The horde let out a collective roar of approval, their faith in their Warchief unshaken. Deep down, however, Volk knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. The Ogres were not to be underestimated, and the system''s lack of clarity was unsettling. But he pushed the doubt aside. "For the Horde," Volk muttered to himself, his gauntlet glowing faintly as he clenched it tighter. "Let''s see what fate has in store." The horde marched forward, their freshly transformed armors gleaming in the dappled sunlight breaking through the forest canopy. The metallic clinking of their steps resounded like a growing thunderstorm. Despite their enthusiasm, questions began bubbling among the Orcs, some muttering to one another until one finally asked. "Warchief," a particularly bold Orc called out, his voice rough and sharp, "why do we need to beat Ogres? We''ve already proven our strength. What''s the point?" Volk turned, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the curious warrior. He straightened his stance, his gauntlet glowing faintly with latent energy as he addressed them. "It''s simple," Volk began, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs. "This battle isn''t just about strength. It''s about testing our new power. Testing the armors we''ve been gifted. These are no ordinary pieces of steel¡ªthey''re symbols of our new beginning. A beginning that demands we push ourselves against the toughest foes." The Orc scratched his head, his expression puzzled. "Then¡­ why not use them on Goblins? They''re everywhere, and they''d be easy to kill." A few other Orcs nodded in agreement, murmuring their assent. Volk let out a guttural laugh, his tusks gleaming as he grinned. "Goblins?" Volk repeated, his voice tinged with disdain. "Goblins are weaklings! Their bones snap like twigs, their blades dull like rust. Fighting Goblins would dishonor the armors, dishonor the Horde, and dishonor me as your Warchief. We need a challenge worthy of our strength!" Another Orc, his helmet slightly tilted, raised a clawed hand. "What about humans then? They''re strong enough. We''ve all seen their shiny armors and big armies." Volk''s expression darkened, his grin fading into a grim determination. "The humans will come," he said, his voice low and ominous. "They are not forgotten. They will be the final feast of blood upon the declaration of the Horde''s new beginning. But first¡­" He gestured ahead, his gauntlet glowing brighter. "¡­we conquer the Ogres. The humans will tremble when they see what we''ve become." The Orcs, though still not entirely understanding the finer details, erupted into a raucous cheer. To them, it didn''t matter why or how¡ªwhat mattered was that they were marching toward bloodshed. Chapter 247 - 247: Wild Orc First fight Into the Stinking Forest The march led them into a forest thick with twisted trees and moss-covered boulders. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The deeper they went, the heavier the air became. A foul stench clung to everything, a mix of rotting meat and decaying vegetation. Even the hardened Orcs wrinkled their noses and coughed, waving the air in front of their faces. "This place reeks," one Orc muttered, his voice muffled by the stench. "Is this where the Ogres live?" Volk asked, his sharp eyes scanning the area. "Aye," another Orc replied, his voice grim. "This is one of their hideouts. They live deep in places like these. Places no one else wants." Volk nodded, his gaze lingering on the trees. Their bark was dark and sticky, oozing a black resin that added to the forest''s suffocating atmosphere. The ground squelched underfoot, every step a reminder that they were trespassing in a hostile territory. The horde moved cautiously, their earlier enthusiasm dimmed by the forest''s oppressive aura. The occasional snapping of a branch or rustling of leaves set them on edge. Hours passed, and frustration began to seep into the horde. Despite the warnings of the Orcs who claimed this was Ogre territory, they hadn''t seen a single one. Volk''s jaw tightened as he scanned the area, his patience wearing thin. "Are you certain this is where they live?" Volk demanded, his tone sharp. "Yes, Warchief," one of the scouts replied, bowing his head slightly. "The Ogres are here¡­ somewhere. They don''t stay in one place. They move in small groups, hunting or fighting among themselves." Volk grunted in acknowledgement but said nothing more. He gestured for the horde to press forward, his sharp eyes flicking between every shadow and movement. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they found one. It was crouched by a stream, its massive frame hunched as it drank. The Ogre was a grotesque creature, its body covered in thick, scarred hide and patches of rough hair. Its bulging muscles rippled as it moved, and its tusks jutted upward from a wide, slobbering mouth. A massive club lay at its side, the weapon looking like it could smash through boulders with ease. Completely different from Grumgar and Radioactive form. Volk raised a hand, signaling the horde to stop. The Orcs fell silent, their breaths hushed as they stared at the monstrous creature. "This is it," Volk murmured, his voice low but firm. He turned to one of the Orcs beside him, a warrior whose armor gleamed faintly in the dim light. "You. Attack it." The chosen Orc''s eyes widened, his grip tightening on his weapon. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the Ogre and then back at Volk. "Warchief?" he asked, his voice uncertain. "You heard me," Volk growled, his gauntlet glowing faintly. "Attack it. Prove the strength of our horde." The Orc swallowed hard but nodded. He stepped forward, his weapon clutched tightly in both hands, as the rest of the horde watched with bated breath. The chosen Orc¡ªGarzuk¡ªstepped forward, his boots sinking into the foul-smelling muck beneath him. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, and his eyes darted nervously to the massive Ogre ahead. Normally, seven Orcs were needed to take down a beast of this size and strength. But now, he stood alone. His fingers trembled as they gripped the hilt of his blade, and he turned his head slightly to glance at the horde behind him. Their faces told him everything. Some looked back at him with pity, others with skepticism. A few even smirked, already writing him off as a doomed fool. "You hesitate?" Volk''s voice thundered, slicing through the oppressive silence. His crimson gauntlet glowed faintly as he pointed at Garzuk, his tone laced with fury. "You dare show weakness before the Horde?" Garzuk swallowed hard. "Warchief¡­ maybe we could¡ª" "Silence!" Volk roared, his voice echoing through the forest. "You will follow my command, or you will be a disgrace to the Horde! Do you hear me? A disgrace!" The word hit Garzuk like a hammer to the chest. To be called a disgrace was worse than death. His hands tightened around his weapon, his knuckles whitening. There was no choice now. He had to fight. The Ogre, still unaware of the incoming challenge, bent down to drink again from the stream. Its grotesque body shifted, and a low growl rumbled from its throat. "Attack, now!" Volk barked, his eyes narrowing. Garzuk inhaled sharply and surged forward with a battle cry that was half-hearted at best. His blade swung downward in a clumsy arc, aimed at the Ogre''s exposed side. CLANG! The sound of steel meeting hide echoed through the forest, but the blade barely scratched the Ogre''s thick skin. The creature roared in rage, its beady eyes turning toward Garzuk as it reached for its massive club. "Faster, Garzuk! Do not let it recover!" Volk shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. Garzuk tried to adjust his footing in the slippery mud, raising his shield just in time as the Ogre''s club came crashing down. BOOM! The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, and Garzuk staggered back, his shield dented but still intact. His arms quivered from the force of the blow, but he managed to stay on his feet. "Move, you fool! Do not stand there like a tree waiting to be chopped!" Volk snarled. "Circle it! Attack its legs! Make it fall!" Garzuk nodded shakily, his fear evident in every step as he sidestepped around the Ogre. The beast swung its club again, but Garzuk barely managed to duck, the weapon missing him by inches. WHOOSH! The air screamed as the club passed over his head, and Garzuk fell to one knee in the mud. "Get up!" Volk bellowed, his fists clenched. "You call that fighting? You''re embarrassing the Horde! Use your shield, damn it!" Garzuk scrambled to his feet, raising his shield just as the Ogre spun and lashed out with its massive fist. BAM! The shield absorbed most of the impact, but Garzuk was still sent skidding backward, his boots carving deep trenches in the muck. He coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to stay upright. "Again!" Volk roared. "Press the attack! Your armor can take more than you think! Stop cowering and fight!" Garzuk gritted his teeth, his fear slowly giving way to determination. He charged forward again, slamming his shield into the Ogre''s knee with all his strength. THUD! The Ogre growled in pain, its massive frame wobbling slightly. Seizing the moment, Garzuk swung his blade at the creature''s leg, this time managing to leave a deep gash. "Yes!" Volk shouted, his voice filled with fierce approval. "That''s it! Keep at it! Bring the beast down!" But the Ogre wasn''t finished. It roared, lifting its club high and bringing it down in a devastating arc. CRASH! Garzuk raised his shield just in time, but the force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground. His shield arm hung limp, the bone likely fractured. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he forced himself back onto his knees. "Stand up!" Volk commanded, his eyes blazing. "You are an Orc! Pain means nothing! Get up and fight!" Garzuk roared, more out of desperation than courage, as he pushed himself to his feet. His legs trembled, and his vision blurred, but he pressed on. He feinted left, then rolled to the right, narrowly avoiding another swing of the Ogre''s club. "Good! Use your brain for once!" Volk shouted. "Now aim for its arms! Disarm it!" Garzuk lunged, his blade slicing across the Ogre''s forearm. The beast howled, dropping its club for a brief moment. "Now, Garzuk! Strike again! Do not give it a chance to recover!" Volk yelled. Garzuk swung his blade upward in a desperate arc, slashing the Ogre''s shoulder. SLASH! Blood sprayed, painting the ground and Garzuk''s armor. The Ogre stumbled, its movements growing sluggish as it tried to grab Garzuk with its massive hands. "Duck!" Volk screamed. Garzuk obeyed instinctively, dropping to the ground as the Ogre''s hand swiped over his head. "Now! Finish it!" Volk commanded, his voice like thunder. Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Garzuk drove his blade upward, piercing the Ogre''s chest. THUD! The beast let out a final, guttural roar before collapsing to the ground with a deafening crash. The forest fell silent, save for Garzuk''s ragged breaths. He stood over the fallen Ogre, his body trembling and his armor dented and bloodied. Volk stepped forward, his imposing figure towering over Garzuk. He clapped his hands slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad," Volk said, his voice carrying a hint of approval. "But you''re still clumsy. Next time, I expect better." Garzuk nodded weakly, his exhaustion evident. The rest of the horde erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the forest as they celebrated their comrade''s victory. Volk raised a hand, silencing them. His eyes scanned the horizon, his expression unreadable. "This is only the beginning," Volk said, his tone grave. "There are more Ogres out there. And I will force you all to face them all." Chapter 248 - 248: Training The hulking Ogre lay sprawled on the forest floor, unconscious and bloodied. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, mingled with the swampy stench of the forest. The Orcs, still catching their breath from the brutal encounter, gathered around the fallen beast, their faces a mixture of awe, unease, and a tinge of pride for Garzuk''s resilience. "What should we do with it, Warchief?" one of the Orcs asked, his voice cautious. "Do we finish it off? Drag it back as a trophy?" Volk stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet gleaming in the faint sunlight piercing through the thick canopy above. He stared down at the Ogre with an expression that betrayed no sympathy, but also no interest. "Leave it," Volk commanded, his tone flat but absolute. "Leave it?" another Orc questioned, his brows furrowing. "But it''s¡ª" "Do I look like I care for a useless lump of meat?" Volk interrupted, his voice rising. He gestured toward the deeper parts of the forest with a sweeping motion. ''There were humans coming, and if the Baron is a threat, it means that some could take on Volk too. It''s better to be sure and full of energy than to waste it dragging some of this filthy meat as a trophy. They can have as many trophies as they want after this,'' he thought. "We''re not here to waste time dragging bodies. We''re here to test your worth and the strength of your new armor! You want trophies? Earn them in battle, not from fallen trash." The Orcs fell silent, though a few exchanged uneasy glances. Volk''s fiery gaze silenced any murmurs of dissent. He turned away, the folds of his cape swishing behind him as he strode toward the darker parts of the forest. "Move out!" Volk barked. The Orcs trudged forward, their boots squelching in the mud. The deeper they ventured, the darker and more oppressive the forest became. Twisted trees loomed overhead like skeletal sentinels, their gnarled branches forming a labyrinth of shadows. The stench grew worse. It was no longer just the scent of damp earth and decaying vegetation. It was something else¡ªsomething alive and rank, like unwashed flesh soaked in rot. Volk''s nose flared as he sniffed the air. "They''re close," he said, his voice low but carrying authority. "How can you tell, Warchief?" one of the younger Orcs asked nervously. "Because I can feel it," Volk replied. Of course he''s an Ogre too. His Radioactive Form that was weakened for now. "Ogres stink of cowardice and brute arrogance. That smell you''re gagging on? That''s what stupidity smells like." A few Orcs chuckled nervously, but their laughter died quickly as the forest ahead began to rumble. THUD. THUD. THUD. The ground trembled beneath their feet. Bushes rustled violently, and trees swayed as something massive pushed its way through the dense foliage. Then they appeared. Three Ogres lumbered into view, each one towering over the Orcs. Their grotesque bodies were covered in thick, patchy hides, and their faces were twisted in permanent scowls. One carried a massive club fashioned from a tree trunk, another wielded a jagged boulder, and the third had nothing but its massive fists, each as large as an Orc''s torso. The Orcs tensed, gripping their weapons tightly. Garzuk, still nursing his injuries, shifted uncomfortably toward the back of the group. "Warchief," one of the Orcs whispered. "What''s the plan?" Volk raised a hand, silencing the question. His crimson gauntlet pulsed faintly as he pointed toward the Ogres. "You''ve trained enough," Volk said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "Now it''s time to prove yourselves." He stepped back, folding his arms. "Take them down. All of you." The Orcs hesitated, their eyes darting between the massive Ogres and Volk. "What are you waiting for?" Volk snarled. "An invitation? Attack!" One of the Orcs, emboldened by Volk''s command, let out a war cry and charged forward. The others followed suit, their cries echoing through the forest as they surged toward the Ogres. The first Ogre roared, swinging its club in a wide arc. WHOOSH! The air screamed as the massive weapon tore through it. The lead Orc barely managed to duck, the club passing over his head by inches and smashing into the ground with a deafening BOOM! S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Get behind it!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "It''s slow! Use your speed, you fools!" Two Orcs darted to the sides, their blades glinting as they slashed at the Ogre''s legs. SLASH! SLASH! The beast bellowed in pain, swiping at them with its free hand. One Orc managed to dodge, but the other was caught by the backhanded blow. THWACK! The Orc was sent flying, crashing into a tree with a sickening crunch. "Focus!" Volk roared. "Don''t scatter like frightened Goblins! Work together!" Meanwhile, the second Ogre hurled its boulder toward the group. CRASH! The massive rock smashed into the ground, sending a shockwave that knocked several Orcs off their feet. "Get up!" Volk barked. "You call yourselves warriors? Stand and fight!" The third Ogre charged into the fray, its massive fists swinging wildly. One Orc raised his shield just in time to block the blow. BANG! The impact dented the shield and sent the Orc staggering back, but he held his ground. "Good!" Volk shouted. "Now counter! Strike its arm!" The Orc obeyed, thrusting his blade into the Ogre''s exposed arm. SHUNK! The beast roared, its arm hanging limp as blood gushed from the wound. The battle raged on, the forest filled with the sounds of clashing steel, roaring Ogres, and Volk''s relentless commands. "Don''t stand there! Attack its back!" "Shield up, you idiot! Do you want to die?" "Flank it! Make it fall!" The Orcs, though clumsy and inexperienced, began to adapt under Volk''s guidance. They worked together, using their numbers and agility to outmaneuver the Ogres. The first Ogre fell to its knees after an Orc drove a spear into its side. THUD! "Finish it!" Volk commanded. Another Orc leaped onto the Ogre''s back, plunging his blade into its neck. The beast let out one final, gurgling roar before collapsing to the ground. The second Ogre, now surrounded, swung its fists wildly, trying to fend off the attackers. "Keep it distracted!" Volk ordered. "One of you, go for its legs!" An Orc darted forward, slashing at the beast''s Achilles tendon. SNAP! The Ogre let out a blood-curdling scream as it toppled forward. The Orcs swarmed it like wolves, their blades stabbing and slicing until it lay still. The third Ogre, realizing it was outmatched, tried to retreat. "Coward!" Volk spat. "Don''t let it escape!" The Orcs pursued, their war cries shaking the forest as they descended upon the fleeing beast. SLASH! CRUNCH! THUD! Moments later, the Ogre lay dead, its massive body riddled with wounds. The Orcs stood over their fallen foes, panting and bloodied but victorious. They turned to Volk, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and exhaustion. Volk stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet glowing faintly. He looked at each of them, his expression unreadable. "You fought well," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "But this is only the beginning. There are more Ogres out there. They will be your stepping stones or you could be in their stomach." The Orcs nodded, their spirits bolstered by the hard-fought victory. Volk turned away, his mind already planning the next move. Chapter 249 - 249: Ogre Raid The dense forest seemed to tremble under the weight of heavy footfalls. The pungent stench of Ogre musk saturated the air, making even the hardy Orc warriors wrinkle their noses in disgust. But the scent also carried with it the thrill of another challenge. Volk, standing at the forefront, his crimson gauntlet gleaming ominously, raised his hand to silence the murmurs among his horde. "They''re close," Volk announced. His voice, like the growl of a predator, sent a ripple of anticipation through the Orcs. The sound of snapping branches echoed from deeper within the forest, accompanied by guttural growls that sent birds fluttering from the treetops. The Orcs tightened their grips on their weapons, their fingers brushing against the newly reinforced armor that gleamed even in the dim light. Volk''s gaze was sharp, his piercing eyes scanning the shadows as the vibrations beneath their feet grew stronger. "Steady," Volk commanded, his voice low but firm. From the dense underbrush, four Ogres emerged. Each was more imposing than the last. Their bulging muscles, covered in patchy, grime-caked skin, flexed as they stepped forward. Each carried a crude weapon: one swung a massive spiked club, another wielded a tree trunk as though it weighed nothing. The third clutched a massive boulder, and the fourth''s bare fists were as large as an Orc''s entire torso. The Orcs bristled but did not falter. They had faced Ogres before. This time, they were better prepared. "Form up!" Volk barked. The horde moved with an efficiency that had been absent in their earlier skirmishes. Shields locked into place, and spears pointed forward in a bristling line. The front row crouched slightly, creating a defensive phalanx. Behind them, archers knocked crude but deadly arrows. The Ogres roared, their guttural cries shaking the very ground. One charged forward, its tree-trunk club swinging downward in a devastating arc. WHOOSH! "Brace!" Volk shouted. The shield wall held firm as the club slammed into it. BOOM! The impact reverberated through the horde, but the Orcs stood their ground. The Ogre snarled, confused by the resilience of its smaller foes. "Now!" Volk commanded. "Pierce its flank!" Two Orcs darted out from the sides, their movements swift and precise. Their spears glinted as they stabbed into the Ogre''s exposed ribs. SHUNK! SHUNK! The beast howled in pain, swinging its massive arm to swat them away. "Evade!" Volk barked. The Orcs rolled away just in time, the Ogre''s arm crashing into the ground where they had stood moments before. Meanwhile, the second Ogre hurled its boulder toward the formation. "Scatter!" Volk yelled. The horde split like water, the massive rock landing with a thunderous CRASH! that sent dirt and debris flying. "Regroup!" Volk''s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Archers, aim for the eyes!" The archers loosed their arrows in a coordinated volley. TWANG! TWANG! The arrows flew true, striking the second Ogre in the face. THUNK! THUNK! The beast roared in agony, clawing at its eyes as it stumbled backward. "Push forward!" Volk shouted, his gauntlet glowing faintly with an intimidating red aura. The Orcs surged forward, their blades flashing as they targeted the second Ogre''s legs. SLASH! CRACK! The beast fell to its knees, its towering frame shaking the ground as it collapsed. The third Ogre, enraged by the sight of its fallen comrade, charged directly at the horde. Its spiked club swung in wide, devastating arcs, scattering the front line. "Do not break ranks!" Volk bellowed. "Surround it! Shields up!" The Orcs rallied, circling the rampaging Ogre. The beast''s wild swings glanced off their shields with deafening CLANGS! but did not break them. "Go for the knees!" Volk ordered. Four Orcs rushed forward, their axes and swords biting into the Ogre''s legs. THUD! The beast crashed to the ground, flailing helplessly as the Orcs swarmed it. The fourth Ogre, seeing the tide turn against its kin, hesitated for a moment before letting out an ear-splitting roar. It charged at Volk directly, its massive fists raised high. Volk stood his ground, his crimson gauntlet pulsing with a fierce light. "Come to me, then," Volk growled, his voice dripping with challenge. The Ogre''s fists came crashing down. BOOM! Volk sidestepped at the last moment, the ground where he had stood exploding into a crater. He raised his gauntlet, channeling its power into a concentrated strike. WHAM! The gauntlet connected with the Ogre''s arm, sending a shockwave rippling through its massive frame. The beast stumbled, its balance momentarily broken. "Now!" Volk roared. "Take it down!" The Orcs pounced, their weapons sinking into the Ogre''s flesh like a pack of wolves tearing apart their prey. SLASH! STAB! CRUNCH! Within moments, the forest was silent except for the ragged breathing of the victorious horde. The Ogres lay defeated, their massive forms sprawled across the battlefield. Volk surveyed the scene, his sharp eyes taking in the bloodied but triumphant faces of his warriors. "You''ve done well," he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "You fought as one. Efficient, ruthless. This is what it means to be a horde." The Orcs, still catching their breath, exchanged glances. It seems their Warchief was satisfied and it was satisfying for them too. The forest grew eerily silent as Volk''s horde pressed onward. Their confidence had grown with each victory, and the energy among the warriors was palpable. The scent of blood lingered in the air, mingling with the damp, earthy smell of the dense woods. Volk led the way, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows for movement. Every creak of the trees, every snap of a branch, sent a ripple of anticipation through the horde. "Stay alert," Volk commanded, his voice a low growl that carried authority. The Orcs moved as a unit, their steps synchronized, their weapons gleaming in the faint shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopy above. The armor they wore seemed to hum faintly, resonating with their collective determination. It wasn''t long before the faint sound of guttural grunts and heavy footsteps reached their ears. Volk raised a fist, and the horde froze. Ahead, the underbrush rustled, and the ground trembled ever so slightly. "They''re close," muttered one Orc, his grip tightening on his spear. "Form up," Volk ordered, his tone calm but firm. The Orcs moved quickly, shields raised, weapons ready. The front line crouched slightly, creating an impenetrable wall of steel and muscle. From the shadows emerged another group of Ogres¡ªfive this time, their brutish forms even more imposing than the last group. Their skin was a mottled mix of gray and brown, their eyes small and pig-like, yet filled with a savage intelligence. Each carried a weapon more terrifying than the last¡ªa jagged metal club, a spiked chain, and even a boulder the size of an Orc''s torso. The Ogres snarled, their breath coming out in visible puffs as they eyed the horde. "Steady!" Volk barked. One of the Ogres let out a deafening roar and charged, its massive feet shaking the ground with each step. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. BOOM! BOOM! "Hold the line!" Volk shouted. The horde braced themselves, shields locking together as the Ogre barreled into them. CRASH! The impact was thunderous, but the Orcs held firm. Their reinforced armor absorbed much of the force, and the Ogre, momentarily stunned by their resilience, stumbled back. "Flank it! Spears to the sides!" Volk commanded. Two Orcs darted from the formation, their movements precise and practiced. SHUNK! SHUNK! Their spears pierced the Ogre''s thick hide, drawing a bellow of pain. Another Ogre, enraged by the attack on its companion, swung its spiked chain in a wide arc. "Duck!" Volk roared. The Orcs dropped to the ground as the chain whipped overhead, tearing through the air with a sharp WHOOSH! "Counterattack! Aim for the legs!" The horde surged forward, their weapons targeting the vulnerable joints of the massive creature. SLASH! CRACK! The Ogre roared in pain, its knees buckling as it fell to the ground. The Orcs swarmed it, their weapons flashing as they delivered blow after blow. Meanwhile, the third Ogre hurled its boulder toward the center of the formation. "Scatter!" Volk commanded. The horde split apart like water, the massive rock landing with an earth-shaking THUD! "Archers, focus fire on that one!" Volk pointed toward the boulder-throwing Ogre. The archers nocked their arrows and loosed them in unison. TWANG! TWANG! The arrows struck true, embedding themselves in the Ogre''s face and neck. THUNK! THUNK! The beast staggered, its hands clawing at its wounds as it let out a pitiful howl. The fourth Ogre charged into the fray, swinging its jagged club wildly. Its attacks were powerful but unfocused, each swing tearing through trees and sending splinters flying. "Draw its attention!" Volk ordered. Chapter 250 - 250: Intelligent Ogre Two Orcs stepped forward, banging their shields together to create a cacophony of noise. CLANG! CLANG! The Ogre turned toward them, its beady eyes narrowing. "Now, the legs!" Volk roared. Three more Orcs darted in from the sides, their axes biting into the Ogre''s legs. CHOP! THUD! The beast fell forward, its massive frame shaking the ground as it hit the dirt. The fifth Ogre, seeing its comrades defeated one by one, hesitated. It looked around, its brutish mind clearly calculating whether to fight or flee. "Don''t let it escape!" Volk shouted. The horde moved as one, encircling the lone Ogre. It swung its crude weapon in desperation, but the Orcs were too coordinated. They darted in and out, landing blows and retreating before the beast could retaliate. SLASH! STAB! CRUNCH! Within minutes, the last Ogre fell, its massive body collapsing in a heap. The forest grew silent once more, save for the ragged breathing of the victorious horde. The Orcs looked at one another, their faces a mix of exhaustion and pride. Their movements had been sharper, their attacks more precise. They were learning, growing stronger with each battle. Volk stood at the center, his crimson gauntlet faintly glowing as he surveyed the battlefield. A faint smirk played on his lips. "You''re improving," he said, his voice carrying over the group. "But there''s still room for growth. The enemy won''t always be this predictable." The Orcs nodded, their expressions determined. But before they could celebrate their victory, a low rumble shook the ground. The Orcs froze, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound. From the shadows of the forest, a far larger figure emerged. The ground trembled beneath its massive feet, and the very trees seemed to sway with its approach. The beast was an Ogre, but unlike any they had seen before. It towered over the others, its frame impossibly broad and muscular. Its skin was a dark, mottled gray, almost like stone, and its eyes burned with an eerie crimson light. In its hands, it carried a weapon that could only be described as a massive slab of jagged rock, shaped into a crude but devastating blade. The horde stared in stunned silence as the enormous Ogre stepped into the clearing. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "What¡­ is that?" one Orc muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his smirk fading as he studied the colossal creature. "It seems we''ve found their leader," Volk said, his tone grim but laced with determination. The massive Ogre let out a deafening roar, the sound echoing through the forest like a thunderclap. The horde tensed, their weapons ready, as they awaited Volk''s command. The enormous Ogre''s guttural voice boomed through the clearing like a drumbeat from the heavens. "ME NO LEADER," it roared, its words simple and fragmented but carried with immense force. "WHY YOU ATTACK YOUNGSTERS?" The Orcs froze, their battle-ready stances breaking. The sight of an Ogre speaking, using words rather than mindless roars or grunts, sent a ripple of disbelief through the horde. "He¡­ it talks?" one Orc muttered, his voice quivering. Another Orc''s knees began to tremble. "Chief¡­ that''s¡­ that''s an intelligent Ogre!" The realization spread like wildfire. The once-bloodthirsty warriors, who had charged headlong into previous battles, now glanced nervously at one another. Some began to shuffle backward, their courage evaporating in the face of this anomaly. "Chief," one of the older Orcs stammered, stepping forward hesitantly. "This¡­ this is not like the others. We should go back. This is unnatural!" The panic rippled outward. "Chief Volk, please! We don''t need to fight this thing!" "It''s¡­ it''s too big! And it''s smart!" "Chief, look at its weapon! It''s huge! One swing could take out half of us!" More voices rose, some pleading, others shaking with fear. "Let''s regroup! Find another target!" "This isn''t worth it! We''re warriors, not¡­ not suicides!" Volk stood silent, his crimson gauntlet resting against his side, unmoving despite the chaos around him. His sharp eyes were locked on the towering Ogre, studying its every movement. The fear among his warriors grew. "Chief, please!" "Volk, we''ll die here!" "Why fight it? Let''s go!" But Volk raised his hand, palm open and fingers spread, commanding silence. "Hush," he said, his tone calm but carrying the weight of absolute authority. The Orcs fell silent, though their eyes darted nervously between their Warchief and the Ogre. Volk wasn''t listening to their panicked pleas anymore. His focus was entirely on the massive creature before him. Something stirred deep within his mind, an ache that felt familiar yet foreign. He narrowed his eyes, the memory clawing its way to the surface. A sensation washed over him, a powerful deja vu. This wasn''t the first time he had encountered a creature like this. No¡­ this reminded him of something else. His original horde. Back before he had been torn from them and thrust into this realm. Back when his warriors, his true kin, could ascend into their terrifying Grumgar forms¡ªhalf-Ogre monstrosities fueled by raw, unnatural power. The transformation was chaotic, violent, and absolute. It made them unstoppable, much like his own radioactive form. And now, this Ogre standing before him¡­ it was different from the wild brutes they had fought so far. Its posture, its weapon, its words¡­ they all carried echoes of that same transformation. This wasn''t just an Ogre. It was something closer to him and his lost warriors. Volk''s eyes flicked upward, and a translucent system screen appeared before him, visible only to his gaze. Hovering just above the Ogre''s head, glowing text began to display the creature''s information. ¡ª Name: Gar''ruk the Rememberer Race: Proto-Ogre (Ascended Form) Level: 33 Attributes: Strength: 450 Agility: 120 Intelligence: 80 Endurance: 500 Skills: Boulder Smash: Gar''ruk uses his massive weapon to create shockwaves that shatter the ground and stagger enemies. Tremor Roar: A deafening roar that shakes the surroundings, instilling fear and breaking enemy formations. Adaptive Instinct: Enhanced intelligence allows Gar''ruk to strategize and counteract enemies mid-battle. Resilience of Stone: Takes significantly reduced damage from physical attacks. Description: Gar''ruk is a rare, ascended Proto-Ogre who has retained fragments of higher intelligence from a bygone age. Unlike his brutish kin, he is capable of speech and reasoning. Though he appears as a mere wild beast, his presence marks the remnants of a powerful lineage that once rivaled the gods. ¡ª Volk''s eyes narrowed as he read the text. Proto-Ogre? Ascended Form? The terms were new to him, but they resonated deeply, scratching at the edges of his memory. This was no ordinary creature. And yet, it was clear that it wasn''t fully one of his own. The Ogre, Gar''ruk, tilted its massive head slightly, its fiery red eyes locking onto Volk. "WHY YOU HURT YOUNG?" Its voice rumbled like distant thunder. The accusation hung heavy in the air, and Volk could feel the weight of it pressing down on him. He lowered his hand, silencing the panicked murmurs of his warriors. He could sense their fear, their hesitation. This creature had shaken them to their core. But Volk¡­ Volk wasn''t afraid. He stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet glowing faintly as he clenched his fist. "This isn''t just another Ogre," Volk said, his voice calm but loud enough for his warriors to hear. "This is something else entirely, so I hope the Orcs will be prepared." Behind him, the Orcs whispered among themselves, their fear giving way to curiosity. But Volk didn''t wait for their questions. His focus remained entirely on Gar''ruk, the towering beast whose mere presence was enough to shake his hardened warriors. For now, he simply stared into the burning eyes of the so-called Rememberer. Chapter 251 - 251: Nah The atmosphere in the forest shifted, the air thickening like a suffocating fog. Every Orc present could feel it. Their hearts beat faster, their instincts warning them that something was dreadfully wrong. They had fought Ogres before, yes¡ªwild, savage beasts driven by brute force and primal rage. But this¡­ this was different. Fifteen Orcs. That was the number needed to stand a chance against an intelligent Ogre. Every warrior knew this as gospel, drilled into their minds by countless tales of failed battles and massacres. And yet, the horde, bolstered by their newfound armor and the victories they had claimed earlier, stood on edge but confident. Victory was within their grasp. Volk''s command hung in the air, his crimson gauntlet subtly glowing as he prepared to give the order. But Gar''ruk moved first. The towering Proto-Ogre, with muscles like boulders and eyes that gleamed with a sinister, knowing light, didn''t roar or charge like the other Ogres. No, his steps were slow, deliberate, and chillingly calm. The ground beneath him trembled with each step, the vibrations spreading through the forest floor like ripples in a pond. The Orcs tightened their grips on their weapons, their breaths shallow. They expected an attack, a monstrous swing of Gar''ruk''s massive weapon or a deafening roar. But instead, the Ogre turned away. "Wha¡­ what''s he doing?" one Orc whispered, his voice barely audible. "Stay sharp," Volk said, his voice a growl. "Don''t let your guard down." Gar''ruk lumbered over to the body of one of his fallen kin¡ªa massive Ogre that had been defeated just moments ago. Its body with still remaining life form lay sprawled across the forest floor, its chest caved in from the brutal blows it had suffered. The Orcs watched, confusion flashing across their faces. Gar''ruk knelt down, his enormous frame dwarfing the fallen Ogre. His movements were slow and deliberate, almost reverent, as if he were performing some sacred ritual. His massive hand reached out, fingers curling around the still alive but unconscious Ogre''s head. "What¡­ what''s he doing?" another Orc muttered, stepping back instinctively. "No idea," another replied, his voice trembling. Volk narrowed his eyes, his instincts screaming at him to intervene. But something held him back¡ªa strange, gut-wrenching sense of foreboding. And then it happened. With a sudden, brutal motion, Gar''ruk''s hand clenched, his fingers digging into the fallen Ogre''s skull with a sickening crunch. The sound was wet and visceral, like a melon being crushed underfoot. The Orcs recoiled, some gasping audibly. "What the¡ª" "Is he¡ª" Before anyone could finish their thoughts, Gar''ruk lifted the lifeless body into the air as if it weighed nothing. Blood dripped from the wounds, pooling at his feet. The Ogre tilted his head back, his mouth opening unnaturally wide, revealing rows of jagged, yellowed teeth. The Orcs froze, their eyes widening in horror. "No¡­ no way¡­" one stammered, his voice barely a whisper. And then, Gar''ruk bit down. Crunch! The sound of bones snapping echoed through the clearing, louder than any war cry. The Ogre''s teeth sank into the flesh of its fallen kin, tearing away a massive chunk. Blood sprayed, painting his face and chest in crimson streaks. The Orcs recoiled, some turning away, unable to watch. Others gripped their weapons tighter, their knuckles whitening as fear coursed through them. "He''s¡­ he''s eating it!" "No! That''s impossible!" "Chief, what is this?! What is he doing?!" Volk didn''t respond. His eyes were locked on the grotesque scene before him, his mind racing. This wasn''t normal behavior¡ªnot for Ogres, not for any creature in this cursed forest. Gar''ruk chewed, the wet, sloshing sounds of flesh and sinew filling the silence. His jaw moved methodically, his eyes closing as if savoring the taste. Blood dripped from his lips, pooling at his feet. He swallowed audibly, the motion of his throat visible even from a distance. And then he went back for more. His massive hands tore into the body, ripping it apart like a child tearing into a piece of bread. Chunks of muscle and fat were pulled free, devoured with brutal efficiency. The sound of his feeding was relentless¡ªcrunch, squelch, rip! Some Orcs began to back away, their courage faltering. "This¡­ this isn''t right," one muttered, his voice shaking. "This isn''t a fight. This is¡­ this is something else!" "Chief!" another shouted, his voice cracking. "We can''t face that! We''re not prepared for¡­ whatever that is!" "Silence!" Volk barked, his voice cutting through the rising panic like a blade. "Hold your ground!" But even Volk couldn''t deny the knot of unease twisting in his gut. Gar''ruk continued his gruesome feast, his breathing growing heavier with each bite. Steam rose from his body, mingling with the blood-soaked air. The Ogre''s muscles seemed to ripple and grow, his already enormous frame swelling with newfound strength. The Orcs watched in horror as the wounds on Gar''ruk''s body¡ªsmall cuts and scrapes from previous battles or hunts before it came here¡ªbegan to close. The flesh knitted itself back together, leaving no trace of injury. "He''s¡­ he''s healing!" "It''s the blood!" "No! It''s not just the blood. It''s¡­ something else!" Gar''ruk finally stopped, his feast complete. He dropped the mangled remains of the fallen Ogre, the body now unrecognizable. Blood dripped from his hands and face, his chest heaving with deep, guttural breaths. He turned back to the horde, his fiery red eyes burning brighter than ever. "YOU SEE NOW," he roared, his voice shaking the very trees around them. "ME STRONGER. ME REMEMBER." The Orcs stood frozen, their confidence shattered. The Orcs stood frozen, their confidence shattered. The victories they had claimed earlier now felt like distant memories, meaningless in the face of this abomination. Volk, however, stepped forward, his gauntlet glowing faintly as he clenched his fist. His crimson eyes locked onto Gar''ruk, unflinching. "This changes nothing," Volk said, his voice cold and firm. "We are the horde. We do not retreat." Gar''ruk tilted his head, a cruel smile spreading across his blood-streaked face. "GOOD," he rumbled. "ME LIKE FIGHT." Gar''ruk loomed over the horde, his massive frame casting a shadow over the blood-soaked clearing. His fiery red eyes darted between the Orcs, his sharp, broken-toothed grin almost feral. But there was a shift in his expression¡ªsomething cunning and calculating. Despite his bravado, the Ogre understood his position. He was outnumbered, and while his strength was undeniable, he wasn''t invincible. "ME LIKE FIGHT," Gar''ruk boomed, his guttural voice reverberating through the air. "BUT ME NOT FOOL. FOUR OF YOU. ME FIGHT FOUR. YOU WIN, ME WORK UNDER YOU." The horde froze, glancing at one another in confusion. An intelligent Ogre was already terrifying, but an Ogre proposing terms of combat? That was unheard of. "What''s he saying?" one Orc muttered, gripping his weapon tightly. "He''s proposing¡­ a deal?" another whispered, his brow furrowed. Volk stood silent for a moment, his crimson eyes narrowing as he studied Gar''ruk. The Ogre''s massive chest heaved, and though his demeanor was bold, Volk could see it¡ªthe faintest flicker of uncertainty. Gar''ruk was stalling. "Chief," one Orc spoke hesitantly, his voice tinged with fear. "What should we do? Should we¡­ accept?" Volk raised his hand, silencing the murmurs. He stepped forward, his crimson gauntlet catching the faint rays of sunlight filtering through the trees. The horde parted for him instinctively, their eyes filled with expectation. Volk looked Gar''ruk straight in the eye, his expression cold and unreadable. Then, he smirked. "Nah," Volk said casually, his voice dripping with disdain. "Beat him up." The horde erupted into motion. Gar''ruk''s grin faltered, his confidence wavering as the Orcs surged toward him. "WAIT! NO¡ª" The first Orc struck, his battle-axe swinging toward Gar''ruk''s legs. The Ogre leapt back with surprising agility for his size, the blade whistling past him and embedding itself in the ground with a resounding thunk. "TO THE FLANKS!" Volk barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "SURROUND HIM! DON''T GIVE HIM SPACE TO BREATHE!" The horde obeyed instantly, spreading out to encircle Gar''ruk. The Ogre growled, his massive fists clenching as he prepared for the onslaught. "TOO MANY!" Gar''ruk roared, his voice tinged with panic. One Orc lunged forward, shield raised high. Gar''ruk swung his massive arm, the force of the blow sending the shield splintering into pieces with a deafening CRACK! The Orc was thrown back, crashing into a tree with a grunt of pain. "KEEP MOVING!" Volk shouted. "HE''S STRONG BUT SLOW! DON''T LET HIM FOCUS ON ONE OF YOU!" The horde adjusted their tactics, darting in and out like a swarm of hornets. One Orc swung his sword at Gar''ruk''s side, while another aimed for his legs. The Ogre roared in frustration, spinning to defend himself. His fists lashed out wildly, each strike powerful enough to shatter bone, but the Orcs stayed just out of reach. "TO THE KNEES!" Volk commanded. "BRING HIM DOWN!" Gar''ruk stumbled as an Orc''s hammer connected with the back of his knee, the sound of the impact echoing through the clearing. The Ogre''s massive frame wavered, but he didn''t fall. "AGAIN!" Volk shouted, his eyes gleaming with determination. "DON''T LET UP!" Two Orcs charged from opposite sides, their weapons slamming into Gar''ruk''s legs simultaneously. The Ogre let out a guttural scream, his knees buckling. He dropped to one knee, his fists pounding the ground in frustration. "ENOUGH!" Gar''ruk roared, his voice desperate. He swung his arm in a wide arc, sending two Orcs flying with a single swipe. His chest heaved, his movements becoming more erratic. "ME NOT LOSE!" "KEEP PRESSURE!" Volk yelled, stepping closer. "HE''S ON HIS LAST LEGS!" The horde pressed forward, their confidence growing with each passing second. They struck in coordinated bursts, their blows landing harder and faster. Gar''ruk tried to fight back, but his movements were sluggish, his massive body unable to keep up with the relentless assault. "FOCUS THE WEAK SPOTS!" Volk bellowed, pointing to the joints in Gar''ruk''s massive arms and legs. "HE CAN''T DEFEND THEM ALL!" The Orcs obeyed, their strikes targeting Gar''ruk''s vulnerable points. The Ogre''s roars grew weaker, his massive frame swaying like a felled tree. Finally, with one last, desperate swing of his arm, Gar''ruk collapsed to his knees. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling from exhaustion and pain. Blood dripped from countless wounds, pooling at his feet. The horde stepped back, their weapons still at the ready. They looked to Volk, waiting for his command. Volk approached slowly, his crimson gauntlet gleaming in the dim light. He stopped a few feet from the S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. fallen Ogre, his gaze cold and unyielding. Gar''ruk looked up at him, his fiery red eyes flickering with a mix of fear and defiance. "Me... no lose," the Ogre muttered weakly, his voice barely audible. Volk smirked. "Oh, you''ve already lost.". Chapter 252 - 252: Suicidal Call The clearing grew eerily silent. The only sounds were the shallow breaths of the Orcs and the faint rustle of the leaves in the wind. Volk stared at Gar''ruk, whose massive frame knelt in the dirt, trembling from exhaustion. Blood pooled beneath the Ogre, but there was something off¡ªsomething unnatural in the way his body quivered. Gar''ruk made a low, guttural sound, almost like a growl, but it carried a strange rhythm. His head hung low, his massive shoulders rising and falling like tidal waves. The Orcs exchanged wary glances, their weapons still raised, but none dared move closer. "What''s he doing?" one of the Orcs whispered, his voice shaking. "Is¡­ is he surrendering?" another asked, his grip tightening on his weapon. Volk narrowed his eyes, his instincts screaming at him. There was no surrender here. The air had changed¡ªthicker, heavier, charged with something primal. Gar''ruk wasn''t broken. He was waiting. Volk stepped forward, his gauntlet gleaming as he raised a hand to silence the murmurs. "Stay back," he ordered, his voice firm but low. His crimson eyes scanned Gar''ruk, watching every twitch of muscle, every labored breath. "Something isn''t right." Gar''ruk''s growl grew louder, resonating like a drumbeat. His massive hands dug into the dirt, clawing at it as if trying to anchor himself. Then, he froze. The sudden stillness was deafening. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, his instincts screaming louder than ever. "Gar''ruk," he called, his voice sharp, trying to break the tension. "What are you doing?" The Ogre didn''t respond. Instead, his chest expanded, filling with an unnatural breath. The sound of his lungs inflating was wrong¡ªwet and guttural, like a storm brewing inside him. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His massive frame quaked, his head slowly lifting, his eyes glowing faintly with an ominous light. "Get back!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. But before anyone could react, Gar''ruk threw his head back and unleashed a deafening roar. "RAAAAAAAAARGH!" The cry wasn''t just a sound. It was a force. The ground trembled violently beneath them, cracks spiderwebbing through the earth as if the land itself recoiled from the Ogre''s rage. Trees swayed and groaned, their branches snapping under the sheer pressure of the sound. The air vibrated, thick and oppressive, wrapping around the Orcs like an invisible chain. Several Orcs stumbled, clutching their ears as the roar pierced through them. Some fell to their knees, their weapons clattering to the ground. "WHAT IS THIS?!" one shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony. "IT''S LIKE MY HEAD''S GOING TO SPLIT!" another cried, dropping his axe as he doubled over. Volk stood firm, though his body tensed against the sheer weight of the sound. His gauntlet glowed faintly, reacting to the unnatural energy radiating from Gar''ruk. The Ogre''s roar seemed to stretch on forever, a primal, unrelenting scream that carried the weight of something ancient and terrible. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. The silence that followed was almost worse. Gar''ruk''s body slumped forward, his massive hands falling limp at his sides. His chest heaved one last time before his entire frame collapsed to the ground with a thunderous THUD. The Orcs stared in stunned silence, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. None of them moved, their eyes locked on the lifeless form of the once-mighty Ogre. "Is¡­ is he dead?" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible. Another stepped forward hesitantly, his weapon trembling in his hand. "Chief¡­ what just happened?" Volk didn''t answer immediately. His crimson eyes remained fixed on Gar''ruk''s corpse, his mind racing. The cry wasn''t just a death wail. It was a call. A warning. He clenched his gauntlet, the metal creaking under the pressure. His jaw tightened, the weight of realization settling over him like a storm cloud. Finally, he turned to face the horde, his expression grim. "Be prepared," Volk said, his voice cutting through the fear like steel. The Orcs stiffened, their confusion giving way to unease. "Prepared for what?" one of them asked, his voice trembling. Volk glanced back at Gar''ruk''s body, his gauntlet glowing faintly as he clenched it into a fist. "Something''s coming." The forest seemed to come alive with an eerie, unnatural energy. The rustling of leaves above them grew louder, but it wasn''t from the wind. The faint sound of wings flapping reached Volk''s ears. He turned his gaze skyward, squinting through the dense canopy of trees. From the shadows of the branches, dark shapes shot upward. Flap-flap-flap! Birds¡ªlarge, sleek, and utterly foreign to him¡ªburst out of the trees in panicked flocks. Their cries were sharp and unnatural, almost metallic, as though fear itself had given them voice. Their wings gleamed with faint magical hues, leaving shimmering trails behind them as they vanished into the sky. "What the¡ª" one of the Orcs started, his eyes wide as he followed the strange creatures. "Birds don''t fly like that," another muttered. "Not unless¡ª" "Yeah," Volk interrupted, his voice sharp and commanding. His eyes scanned the shifting forest, the tension in the air growing thicker by the second. The birds weren''t the only ones fleeing. Out of the underbrush, small, glowing creatures began darting into the open. Volk frowned, his gaze locking onto them. They weren''t like any animals he''d ever seen before. Some had sleek, crystal-like bodies that shimmered with pale blue light. Others resembled small foxes, their tails ablaze with flickering, golden flames. They dashed through the clearing, their movements frantic, their luminous forms leaving trails of light behind them. "Chief¡­" an Orc whispered, taking a step back. Volk held up a hand to silence him. His eyes narrowed, watching the creatures weave and scurry past. Their movements weren''t random¡ªthey were all heading in the same direction. Away. From something. The buzzing came next. A low, droning hum that grew louder with each passing second. Volk''s eyes darted to the edges of the clearing as a swarm of insects poured out of the foliage like a living river. Beetles with glowing carapaces. Moths the size of a human hand, their wings pulsating with faint green light. Even monstrous centipedes, their segmented bodies radiating a dull red glow, scuttled past in a frenzy. "By the Horde¡­" one of the Orcs muttered, his face pale as he watched the tide of insects rush past their feet. Volk frowned. Insects didn''t flee unless the very earth itself had turned against them. He opened his mouth to issue a command but stopped short. The ground trembled beneath him. At first, it was faint¡ªso subtle it might have been the weight of his imagination. But then it grew stronger. Thud¡­ Thud¡­ The tremors came in steady intervals, like the beat of a massive drum. Each one was heavier than the last, rippling through the ground and shaking loose the dirt at their feet. "Chief!" one of the Orcs cried, stumbling as the earth shook harder. THUD. THUD. The vibrations were no longer subtle. The tremors rattled the forest, shaking trees and sending loose branches tumbling to the ground. The rhythmic thudding was joined by a deep, guttural rumble¡ªlow and ominous, like the growl of some ancient beast waking from slumber. Volk''s crimson eyes darted from one side of the clearing to the other. The forest was alive with noise now¡ªbirds screeching, insects buzzing, the ground groaning under an unseen weight. Yet, through the chaos, his instincts honed in on something else. A presence. "Hold your ground!" Volk commanded, his voice sharp and cutting through the rising panic of his horde. But the Orcs were not listening. "This isn''t right, Chief!" one of them shouted, his eyes darting around wildly. "This place¡ªit''s cursed! We shouldn''t be here!" "We need to leave!" another pleaded, gripping his axe tightly as his knuckles turned white. "Look at the animals!" a third cried. "Even the forest is running away!" Volk turned, his crimson gaze locking onto the panicked faces of his horde. He raised his hand high, demanding silence. "Enough!" he barked. The Orcs froze, their fear momentarily subdued by the force of Volk''s voice. "This isn''t the time for cowards!" Volk growled, his voice like steel. "Whatever it is, we face it! We are the Horde!" "But Chief¡­" one of them muttered, his voice trembling. "This doesn''t feel like something we can fight." Volk''s eyes narrowed. "Are you Orcs or mewling goblins?" he spat. "Stand your ground!" The tremors grew stronger still, the earth beneath their feet shifting and groaning. A loud CRACK split the air as a nearby tree toppled, its ancient trunk splitting clean in two. And then, through the trees, the first shadow appeared. It was massive, looming over the forest like a mountain come to life. It moved with deliberate, thunderous steps, the ground quaking with every motion. The Orcs froze, their gazes locked on the colossal silhouette. "What is that¡­" one of them whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise. Volk''s jaw tightened. His gauntleted fist clenched at his side as more shadows emerged behind the first, each one massive and monstrous, their movements slow but purposeful. He didn''t need the system to tell him what was coming. "Be prepared," Volk said, his voice low but steady. His crimson eyes burned with resolve as he stared at the encroaching shadows. Chapter 253 - 253: Gang of Ogres The forest seemed to hold its breath as the rumbling grew louder. The vibrations in the ground felt like a drumbeat, heavy and deliberate, and each step seemed to echo with ominous intent. The shadows that had loomed large moments ago now emerged fully into the dim, murky light of the forest. The Ogres were massive, towering over even the tallest of the Orcs. Their skin was a mottled patchwork of grays, greens, and browns, with warts and scars marking their grotesque faces and thick, muscular limbs. Their matted hair hung in greasy tangles, and the stench that accompanied them was unbearable¡ªa rancid mix of sweat, decay, and unwashed filth. Their tusks protruded unevenly from their jaws, yellowed and chipped, but sharp enough to puncture steel. Each carried crude but brutal weapons: spiked clubs, jagged axes, and rusted blades, all stained with what could only be dried blood. Their armor was a collection of scavenged metal pieces, animal hides, and bones, strapped together haphazardly but functional in their savagery. Beady eyes glared down at the Orcs, glinting with malice and a twisted sort of intelligence. The largest Ogre stepped forward, his breath rasping heavily, fogging the air with a noxious mist. His voice boomed, shaking the very leaves on the trees. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Who come here? Tiny Orcs... think big enough to face us? Bah!" He spat to the ground, the globule steaming where it landed. "Orcs not welcome. You leave, or you DIE!" The Orcs bristled at the insult, but their formation held firm. Volk stepped forward, his presence imposing despite his smaller size compared to the Ogres. His golden armor gleamed faintly in the muted light, and his eyes burned with determination. One of the Orcs behind him whispered, barely audible, "What are they waiting for? Why haven''t they attacked yet?" The largest Ogre growled, his heavy jowls quivering. "You speak? You want fight? Or you too scared?" His thick fingers pointed accusingly, his hand so massive it could easily crush the skull of an Orc with a single squeeze. Volk raised his hand, silencing his horde. His voice was calm but commanding. "We come here not to run. We come here to conquer. If you think we''re afraid, then you''re even dumber than you look." The Ogres erupted into guttural laughter, their bellies shaking. One slapped another on the back with enough force to send him stumbling forward. "Orc think they strong!" said a shorter, squatter Ogre with an oddly high-pitched voice. "Horde of Orcs no match for one Ogre, let alone us! HA! Maybe we squish you quick. Maybe we play with you first!" Another Ogre chimed in, his voice like gravel grinding in a deep pit. "We no like Orcs. Orcs weak. Orcs coward. Orcs run from fight!" One of Volk''s warriors, unable to hold back his rage, stepped forward. "Watch your mouth, you filthy overgrown beast!" The largest Ogre''s face darkened, his grin fading into a dangerous snarl. He bent down, bringing his face level with the Orc. "What you say, little worm? Say again, so I hear before I crush you into dirt." The Orc hesitated, his earlier bravado faltering under the Ogre''s intense glare. Volk stepped in before the situation escalated. "Enough." His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension. "We didn''t come here to argue. If you want a fight, then stop barking and prepare yourselves." The largest Ogre straightened, his thick neck cracking audibly. "You sure, little Orc? You sure you no run? No cry for mercy when we squish you and your friends?" Volk met his gaze unflinchingly. "You think I''m afraid of you? Your size doesn''t scare me. Your smell, maybe." He smirked, letting the insult hang in the air. The Ogres growled, their hands tightening around their weapons. One snarled, "You got big mouth for small Orc. We shut it soon." The Orcs behind Volk shifted nervously, their confidence shaken by the sheer size and ferocity of the Ogres. One of them whispered urgently to Volk, "Warchief¡­ these aren''t like the other Ogres. They''re smarter¡­ stronger. Maybe we should¡ª" Volk shot him a glare that silenced him instantly. "Cowards have no place in my horde," he said, his voice cold. "If you''re too scared to fight, you can leave now." The Ogre leader chuckled darkly. "Your Orcs scared. They shaking like leaves. Maybe we no need fight. Maybe you leave now, save yourselves." Volk didn''t flinch. "Enough talk. If you''re ready to die, then come. But I warn you, Ogres¡ªthis horde is not like any you''ve faced before." The largest Ogre grinned, revealing rows of jagged teeth. "Good. We like Orcs with fight. More fun to break!" The two groups began to spread out, forming a makeshift battlefield in the dense forest. The Orcs, though outmatched in size, formed tight ranks, their new armor glinting faintly. The Ogres stood in a loose, chaotic line, their sheer mass and raw power making them seem invincible. Volk turned to his horde. "Hold the line," he commanded. "Stay together. Follow my orders, and we will crush them." The Ogres snorted and stomped the ground, their massive feet shaking the earth. The largest Ogre raised his weapon high, a crude but deadly spiked club, and bellowed, "COME, ORCS! SHOW US HOW YOU DIE!" Volk raised his sword, pointing it directly at the Ogre leader. "Horde, prepare to fight!" The forest fell silent for a brief moment, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, with a deafening roar, both sides charged. Each of their steps sent tremors through the earth, shaking the surrounding trees. Their guttural roars reverberated through the forest, a cacophony of primal fury that made even the most battle-hardened Orcs flinch. For a brief moment, it seemed as though the weight of the Ogres'' sheer presence might crush the Orcs before the battle had truly begun. Volk, standing in the center of his horde, raised his hand. His voice cut through the madness, sharp and commanding, like the crack of a whip. "Hold your ground!" he barked. "Focus on defense! Shields up! Form the wall!" The Orcs scrambled to obey, their earlier confidence wavering in the face of the towering, snarling Ogres. Shields clanged together as they hastily formed a defensive line, their movements hurried and chaotic. Spears bristled outward from between the gaps, but many wavered, the trembling hands of their wielders betraying their fear. The Ogres wasted no time exploiting the disarray. One surged forward with a bellowing roar, swinging a club the size of a tree trunk. WHOOOM! The impact against the front of the shield wall sent a ripple of force through the Orcs. They stumbled back, their formation bending dangerously under the brute strength of the attack. Volk''s eyes narrowed. "Tighten the line!" he commanded. "Push back! Don''t let them break through!" An Orc near the front, barely holding his ground, shouted in desperation, "Warchief, they''re too strong!" Volk''s voice rose above the din. "They''re strong because you let them be! Stand firm, or you''ll be the reason we fall!" Another Ogre lunged, this one wielding a jagged axe. It came down in a sweeping arc, aimed to cleave through both shields and flesh. CLANG! A shield caught the blow, its bearer staggering but holding his ground. The Ogre sneered, preparing for another strike, but Volk''s sharp command rang out: "Brace! Lock shields together! Use their weight against them!" Chapter 254 - 254: We surrender The Orcs began to adjust, their movements slowing as they found rhythm in Volk''s orders. Shields interlocked, creating a unified wall. The next time an Ogre struck, THOOM! the shield line absorbed the blow with a dull, resounding thud. Though the force made their boots dig into the earth, the line did not break. "Good!" Volk roared, pacing behind them like a predator watching over its pack. "Now, stabilize! Front row, focus on defense! Second row, spears ready! Don''t thrust yet¡ªwait for my signal!" The Ogres, noticing the growing cohesion, grew more aggressive. One of them grabbed a nearby boulder and hurled it toward the line. WHIRRR¡ªCRASH! It smashed into the ground just shy of the Orcs, spraying dirt and debris. Another Ogre roared, charging headlong at the formation, its jagged blade aimed straight at the shields. Volk''s eyes flicked to the charging beast. "Front line, brace! Second row, strike at its legs when it gets close! Stay together!" The Orcs followed his commands. As the Ogre barreled toward them, its weapon smashed down onto the shields, sending sparks flying. But as its momentum carried it forward, the spears from the second row jabbed out in unison, aiming for its thick, muscled legs. THUNK! THUNK! The tips bit into flesh, eliciting a howl of pain from the Ogre. It stumbled, its knee buckling. "Pull back and reset!" Volk shouted. "Don''t overextend!" The Orcs obeyed, retreating just enough to reform the line. The injured Ogre thrashed wildly but failed to land another hit as it tried to retreat, limping back toward its allies. The battle continued like this, a grueling test of endurance. At first, the Ogres'' relentless assault rattled the Orcs. Blows fell heavy and fast, the ground shaking with every impact. Yet, as Volk''s voice cut through the chaos again and again, the Orcs began to adapt. Their movements grew sharper, their defenses sturdier. One Ogre, frustrated by the impenetrable wall, reached down and grabbed one of the shields, tearing it away with a roar. The Orc behind it barely had time to react as the Ogre''s fist swung toward him. "Duck! Roll to your right!" Volk shouted. The Orc dove to the ground, just narrowly avoiding the crushing blow. Another Orc stepped forward to fill the gap, shield raised high. "Good! Cover each other! No gaps!" Volk commanded, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and pride. The Ogres'' ferocity began to falter as their efforts were met with unyielding resistance. Every time they struck, the shields held firm. Every time they overcommitted, the spears darted out, striking at legs and arms, drawing blood. "Push forward!" Volk finally called, his voice rising like a battle horn. "Step by step! Drive them back!" The Orcs began to advance. Their shield wall moved as one, inching forward with each synchronized step. The Ogres, unused to such organized resistance, began to hesitate. One swung its club wildly, but the shield wall absorbed the blow without faltering. Another tried to charge but was met with a line of spears that drove it back with a pained roar. By now, the Orcs were no longer trembling. Their movements were confident, their shields a unified bulwark. Each command from Volk was met with instant obedience. The line advanced relentlessly, forcing the Ogres to retreat step by step. Volk smirked as he watched the tide turn. "That''s it," he said under his breath. "You''re learning. Good." The Ogres, now bloodied and frustrated, growled in frustration. One of them slammed its weapon into the ground, sending a shockwave that knocked a few Orcs off balance. "Recover!" Volk barked immediately. "Back in formation! Don''t let them intimidate you!" The Orcs scrambled back into position, their shield wall re-forming almost instantly. The next Ogre that charged was met with a coordinated counter strike. Spears jabbed into its legs, forcing it to stumble. The shields pressed forward, slamming into its torso and sending it crashing to the ground. "Finish it!" Volk commanded, and a flurry of spear thrusts ended the Ogre''s struggles. The remaining Ogres hesitated, glancing at one another. Their confidence, once overwhelming, was now shaken. The Orcs, on the other hand, stood tall, their line unbroken. Volk paced behind them, his voice calm but filled with authority. "See? They''re not invincible. They bleed like any other beast. You''re Orcs of the Horde¡ªact like it!" The Orcs roared in response, their voices filled with newfound pride and determination. The Ogres, sensing the shift in momentum, roared back in defiance. And then, with a final command from Volk, the Orcs prepared to push forward again. The battle was far from over, but the tide had turned. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The battlefield hung in an uneasy silence, broken only by the labored breaths of the weary combatants. The Ogres, battered and bloodied, slumped where they stood, their massive forms heaving as they struggled to stay upright. Across from them, the Orcs remained in their tight formation, shields locked, and spears poised, though the tension in their lines had eased. The Ogres had spent their fury against the unyielding defense, and now they looked more like overgrown beasts than unstoppable juggernauts. Volk stood behind the Orcs, his arms crossed and his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. His mind worked quickly, weighing the benefits of ending the fight now against the potential gains of prolonging it. Sweat trickled down his temple, but his stance remained strong, his presence an anchor for his horde. One of the Orcs near the center of the line turned his head slightly, daring to speak over his shoulder. "Warchief," he rasped, voice hoarse from the tension of battle. "They''re done. One more push, and they''ll fall. Should we end it now?" The murmurs of agreement rippled through the Orc ranks. The idea of a swift and decisive victory was tempting, especially after enduring the relentless attacks of the Ogres. Many of them still bore minor injuries and bruises, even if the shields had done their job. Volk raised a hand, silencing the whispers. His eyes remained fixed on the Ogres, watching their labored movements and the flicker of confusion in their dim, animalistic gazes. He took a deep breath, then turned to address his warriors. "No," he said firmly, his voice carrying a weight that silenced even the grumbles of dissent. "We fall back." The Orc who had spoken looked bewildered. "Fall back?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Warchief, they''re vulnerable. One more push, and we can¡ª" "Fall. Back." Volk''s voice was like steel, brooking no argument. He stepped forward, his presence alone enough to cow the protesting Orc. "Look at yourselves. You''re still clumsy. Your shield formations falter under pressure. Your spear thrusts are imprecise. "Yes, you''ve done well, but there''s more to learn. These Ogres are tired, yes, but so are you. Do you think you''ll learn anything from a fight you win too easily?" The Orcs exchanged uncertain glances. The logic was sound, but the idea of retreating when victory was so close was foreign to their bloodthirsty instincts. Still, Volk''s reputation and the undeniable authority in his tone made them nod reluctantly. As the order spread, the Orcs began to pull back, their movements deliberate and measured. The Ogres, seeing the retreat, blinked in confusion. Their hulking forms swayed on unsteady legs, and their primitive minds struggled to process what they were witnessing. Relief washed over their brutish faces, though their expressions were still wary. Volk watched as the Ogres slumped against trees or collapsed onto the ground, their weapons lying forgotten beside them. The massive creatures were too exhausted to pursue, and their breaths came in guttural wheezes. For a moment, it seemed as though the battle had truly ended. But Volk had other plans. Chapter 255 - 255: Ogres Shackles The Orcs regrouped at a safe distance, their lines straightening under Volk''s watchful gaze. He paced before them, his eyes sharp and assessing. "Look at them," he said, gesturing toward the recovering Ogres. "They think it''s over. They think we''re done." The Orcs followed his gaze, watching as the Ogres drank from muddy streams and slumped into uneasy rests. Confusion flickered across their faces. "Warchief," one of them said hesitantly, "if we''re not done, then why did we fall back?" "To train you," Volk said simply, his voice carrying a note of challenge. "Do you think you''ve mastered your new strength? Your armor? Your formations? No. You''ve merely tasted the beginning of what it means to fight as a unit. And those overgrown beasts?" He gestured at the Ogres, who were now licking their wounds. "They''re perfect for this." The Orcs exchanged looks, slowly beginning to understand. The retreat wasn''t weakness¡ªit was strategy. Volk wasn''t letting them win too easily, but neither was he letting them lose. He was using the Ogres as training dummies, pushing his horde to the brink and beyond, sharpening them into a weapon worthy of the Horde''s legacy. An hour later, the Ogres stirred, their strength partially recovered. They rose from their positions, stretching their massive limbs and growling slowly among themselves. The relief they had felt earlier was replaced by confusion when they saw the Orcs reforming their line in the distance. The lead Ogre tilted his head, scratching it with a dirt-encrusted hand. "What¡­ what Orcs doing?" he muttered, his voice a rumble of broken syllables. "They¡­ leave?" Before he could make sense of it, the Orcs began to advance again. Shields locked, spears bristling, they moved in a coordinated formation that was far more disciplined than before. The Ogres grunted in alarm, their primitive minds struggling to comprehend why the Orcs would return after retreating. Volk''s voice rang out from behind the line. "Shields up! Spears are steady! Advance at half pace¡ªcontrol your movement!" His commands were sharp, precise, and the Orcs obeyed without hesitation. The Ogres roared in frustration. One of them grabbed a boulder and hurled it at the advancing line. The rock flew through the air, spinning wildly. WHOOOM! CRACK! It smashed into the ground just short of the Orcs, sending dirt and debris flying. "Hold!" Volk commanded. "Maintain formation! Keep moving forward!" The Orcs stepped over the debris, their shields held firm. They were no longer rattled by the display of brute strength. They had learned to trust their armor and their formation. As they closed the distance, the Ogres, now on their feet and snarling, prepared to charge. The clash that followed was a test of endurance and discipline. The Ogres, despite their size and strength, found themselves outmaneuvered by the disciplined Orcs. Every charge was met with a wall of shields, every swing of their clubs deflected or absorbed. The Orcs'' spear thrusts became sharper, targeting weak points with growing precision. Yet, Volk did not allow his horde to finish the fight. Whenever it seemed like they could deliver a decisive blow, he ordered them to retreat, to reform, to advance again. The cycle repeated, grinding down the Ogres both physically and mentally. The Ogres, for all their brute strength, were not clever creatures. Their frustration grew with each failed attack, their roars turning to desperate bellows. They could not comprehend the strategy unfolding before them. They were strong, yes, but strength alone was not enough against an enemy that refused to falter. Hours passed, and the battlefield became a war of attrition. The Orcs, though tired, moved with increasing precision. Their shields locked together like an impenetrable fortress, their spear thrusts sharp and deadly. The Ogres, on the other hand, were stumbling, their massive forms sluggish and weary. Finally, one of the Ogres, its massive body sagging with exhaustion, raised its hands in a gesture that seemed almost human. "We¡­ give up!" it bellowed, its voice cracking with desperation. "No more fight! We¡­ done!" The Orcs paused, their weapons still at the ready, unsure how to react. Their eyes flicked to Volk, who stood at the back of the line, his expression unreadable. A faint smirk crossed his lips as he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "Well, well, well" he said. "It seems even beasts can learn to surrender." The battlefield was quiet, save for the shallow, ragged breaths of the battered Ogres. Their hulking forms sagged under the weight of exhaustion, their bloodied fists dragging against the dirt. Across from them, the Orcs stood in formation, shields locked and spears held high. They were tired, too, but their discipline remained unbroken. Victory hung heavy in the air, yet no one moved to claim it. Volk broke the silence, stepping forward from his position at the back of the line. His imposing figure cut a stark contrast against the fading light of the forest. His golden eyes scanned the defeated Ogres, their massive forms slumped like discarded mountains. "You said you surrender," Volk began, his voice low and deliberate. "What do you mean by that?" The Ogres exchanged uncertain glances, their large, dirt-encrusted faces contorted in confusion. Their dull minds couldn''t form a cohesive answer. They looked to each other for guidance, but none came. Finally, one Ogre muttered, "We¡­ no fight no more." Volk tilted his head. "And what do you plan to do now?" The Ogres blinked, as if the question was entirely foreign to them. "We¡­ no know," another mumbled, scratching its head with a hand large enough to crush a boulder. Volk''s lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes betrayed none of his thoughts. "I see. Then perhaps I''ll give you an option." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Would you like to join my horde?" The silence that followed was deafening. The Ogres didn''t react immediately, their sluggish minds processing the proposition at a glacial pace. However, the reaction among the Orcs was immediate and explosive. "What?!" one of them bellowed, his voice tinged with disbelief. He turned to Volk, his eyes wide with fury. "Warchief, you can''t be serious! Ogres? In our horde?" Another Orc stepped forward, shaking his head vehemently. "They''re brainless, Warchief! They eat their own children! They''ll eat us if they get hungry enough!" A chorus of agreement erupted among the Orcs, their voices overlapping in a chaotic din. "They''re beasts, not warriors!" "They can''t even hold a spear properly!" "They''ll mistake us for food in the middle of the night!" "We should kill them now before they turn on us!" S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The anger and frustration in their voices were palpable, and for a moment, it seemed like the discipline Volk had instilled in them was unraveling. The Orcs were no strangers to violence or hardship, but the idea of inviting their lifelong enemies into their ranks was too much for many to bear. Volk let the uproar continue for a moment, his sharp eyes sweeping over his warriors. Then, with a single, commanding gesture, he raised his hand. "Silence!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. The Orcs fell quiet, though their discontent was still written plainly across their faces. "You doubt my decision?" Volk said, his tone cold and unyielding. He stepped forward, his presence like a storm rolling over the battlefield. "Do you think I make this choice lightly? Do you think I don''t know what these creatures are?" He gestured toward the Ogres, who remained slumped and silent, their confusion palpable. "Yes, they''re beasts. Yes, they''ve eaten their own. But they''re strong. Stronger than any of you. And if I can bend that strength to my will, then our horde will become unstoppable." The Orcs shifted uncomfortably, their earlier confidence replaced by a mix of uncertainty and fear. Volk''s words were undeniable, but the thought of sharing their ranks with Ogres still made their blood run cold. "Trust me," Volk continued, his voice softer now but no less commanding. "Have I ever led you astray? Did I not guide you to victory time and time again? You''ve seen what discipline and strength can achieve. These Ogres will be no different. I''ll mold them as I''ve molded you." The Orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their resistance slowly crumbling under the weight of Volk''s authority. Reluctantly, they nodded, though their expressions remained wary. Chapter 256 - 256: Rewards Volk turned back to the Ogres, who had been listening in silence, their simple minds unable to grasp the full weight of what was happening. "You want to join my horde?" he asked again, his golden eyes locking onto theirs. The Ogres nodded slowly, their massive heads bobbing like mountains shifting in the wind. Volk narrowed his eyes. "I''m not convinced." He stepped closer, his presence looming over them like a predator stalking its prey. "If you''re serious, then prove it. Are you willing to work? To follow my commands without question?" The Ogres hesitated, their faces scrunching up in concentration. Finally, they nodded again, their movements clumsy but deliberate. "Good," Volk said. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of small, metallic objects. They gleamed faintly in the fading light, their surfaces etched with strange, glowing runes. Without a word, Volk tossed them toward the Ogres. The objects landed with a dull clink in the dirt. The Ogres stared at them, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease. "Put them on," Volk commanded, his voice brooking no argument. Slowly, the Ogres picked up the objects, examining them with their massive, calloused hands. They were shackles, designed to fit around their necks, wrists, and ankles. The Ogres hesitated, but under Volk''s piercing gaze, they began to put them on. The moment the shackles clicked into place, the air around them shifted. A faint, invisible force rippled through the clearing, sending a shiver down the spines of everyone present. The runes on the shackles flared to life, glowing with an eerie, pulsating light. The Ogres'' eyes widened as the energy coursed through their bodies, their massive frames trembling as the phenomenon took hold. The transformation was subtle at first. The Ogres'' slumped postures straightened, their shoulders squaring as if a great weight had been lifted from them. Their breathing steadied, the labored wheezing replaced by deep, powerful inhalations. Their eyes, once dull and unfocused, began to gleam with a newfound clarity. Then, as if driven by some primal instinct, the Ogres stood tall, their massive forms casting long shadows over the clearing. They threw their heads back and released a thunderous roar, the sound reverberating through the forest like an earthquake. It was a sound of defiance, of renewal, of power reborn. The Orcs watched in stunned silence, their earlier doubts momentarily forgotten. The Ogres, now brimming with energy, looked stronger, more menacing than ever before. Yet there was something different about them¡ªa sense of control, of discipline, that had been absent before. Volk crossed his arms, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Now," he said, his voice cutting through the lingering echoes of the roar, "let''s see what you''re truly capable of." Volk''s eyes flickered to the glowing system message that hovered just above his line of sight. The words floated in golden clarity, as if etched into the fabric of the air itself: Mission! The host, or the Warchief, was an Orc and an Ogre. The horde would be incomplete without an Ogre. Mission A: Defeat all the Ogres around. Mission B: Enslave all the Ogres. Mission C: Kill all the Ogres. Failure: Loss of Horde authority and power-up. The host has taken Mission A and Mission B: Enslave all the Ogres. Status: Completed. Rewards: Shackles of Ogres - Controls the Ogres and shares their magical resistance against magic and hazardous spells with the entire horde. Volk''s golden eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the information. His gaze dropped to the shackles now adorning the Ogres, their runes still faintly glowing with latent energy. The chains attached to the shackles dangled loosely, their ends severed, leaving the Ogres free to move. And yet, the effect was undeniable. These were no longer the unbridled beasts of chaos that had charged recklessly into battle. These were creatures bound by a higher authority¡ªhis authority. Volk allowed a small, satisfied smile to creep across his face. "Alright," he muttered under his breath, turning his attention to the Ogres. "Let''s see what you can do." Volk stepped forward, his voice booming across the clearing. "Ogres!" he barked, his tone sharp and commanding. The newly shackled beasts flinched slightly at the sound, their massive heads turning toward him in unison. "Line up!" There was a moment of hesitation as the Ogres exchanged confused glances, their simple minds struggling to process the order. But then, almost instinctively, they began to shuffle into a rough line. Their movements were clumsy at first, their massive bodies bumping into one another as they tried to find their places. "Straighten up!" Volk snapped, his voice laced with irritation. "Shoulders back! Feet apart! Stand tall!" The Ogres obeyed, their postures improving with each barked command. They stood as best as their hulking forms allowed, their broad shoulders squared and their massive feet planted firmly on the ground. The sight of the towering creatures standing in organized formation sent a ripple of astonishment through the Orcs. "By the gods," one of the Orcs muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They''re actually listening." Another Orc nodded, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I''ve never seen an Ogre take an order in my life. And now¡­ this?" Volk ignored their murmurs, his focus entirely on the Ogres. "Good," he said, his tone softening slightly. "Now, we''re going to do some drills. Follow my instructions exactly, or there will be consequences. Understood?" The Ogres grunted their assent, their deep voices rumbling like distant thunder. "First," Volk began, "raise your arms. Both of them. As high as they''ll go." The Ogres complied, their massive arms lifting skyward. Their movements were slow and deliberate, their muscles straining as they extended their limbs. The sight was almost comical¡ªgiant, lumbering creatures awkwardly reaching for the sky like children trying to touch the clouds. "Good. Now lower them. Slowly!" Volk barked. The Ogres did as they were told, their arms descending with surprising control. The ground seemed to tremble slightly under the weight of their movements, but they managed to avoid any catastrophic collisions. "Now squat!" Volk commanded. The Ogres hesitated, their faces scrunching up in confusion. "Squat¡­ what?" one of them rumbled, its voice slow and gravelly. "Bend your knees and lower your body!" Volk snapped impatiently. "Like this!" He demonstrated the movement himself, his powerful frame sinking into a low squat. The Ogres attempted to mimic him, their massive bodies lowering awkwardly toward the ground. One of them nearly lost its balance, its enormous arms flailing wildly as it struggled to steady itself. "Keep your weight centered!" Volk shouted. "Don''t just drop like a sack of rocks!" The Ogres adjusted, their movements becoming slightly more controlled. By the time they managed a proper squat, sweat was already dripping from their foreheads. The Orcs watched the spectacle with a mix of awe and amusement. "They''re actually doing it," one of them said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I never thought I''d see the day." "They look ridiculous," another Orc muttered, though there was a hint of admiration in his tone. "Ridiculous or not," a third Orc chimed in, "they''re learning. And fast." Volk''s voice cut through their murmurs. "Enough chatter!" he barked, his gaze snapping to the Orcs. "Pay attention! This is as much for you as it is for them. Watch how discipline transforms even the most chaotic beings." Turning back to the Ogres, Volk continued the drill. "Now, run in place! Knees high! Don''t stop until I say so!" The Ogres groaned in protest but obeyed, their massive legs pumping up and down. The ground shook beneath them, their heavy footsteps creating a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that echoed through the clearing. "Higher!" Volk shouted, his voice like a whip crack. "I said knees high! Don''t slack off!" The Ogres pushed themselves harder, their knees rising to nearly chest height. Their breaths came in loud, ragged gasps, but they didn''t stop. "Now forward!" Volk commanded. "Charge to that tree and back! Full speed!" The Ogres lumbered forward, their massive bodies moving with surprising speed. They crashed through the underbrush like living battering rams, their movements clumsy but powerful. The Orcs couldn''t contain their amazement any longer. "They''re running¡­ like warriors," one of them said, his voice tinged with awe. "Not just warriors," another Orc added. "Like a disciplined unit. I don''t believe it." Volk allowed himself a small smirk as he watched the Ogres return, their breaths heaving but their movements more coordinated than before. "Good," he said. "Now again. Faster this time!" S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Ogres groaned but obeyed, their determination growing with each command. They were learning, adapting, becoming something more than the mindless beasts they had been. Finally, after countless repetitions of squats, running, and various other drills, Volk raised his hand. "Enough," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. The Ogres collapsed to the ground, their massive bodies heaving with exhaustion. And yet, there was a glimmer of pride in their eyes, a sense of accomplishment that hadn''t been there before. Volk turned to the Orcs, his expression stern. "You see now what discipline can achieve. These Ogres were nothing but wild animals a day ago. And now? They''re becoming soldiers. Warriors. Members of this horde." The Orcs nodded reluctantly, their earlier skepticism giving way to begrudging respect. As Volk looked back at the Ogres, the faint glow of the runes on their shackles caught his eye. There was a sudden ripple in the air, a subtle but undeniable shift in the energy around them. The shackles seemed to pulse faintly, their light growing brighter for just a moment. Then, as if triggered by some unseen force, the Ogres stood up. Their exhaustion seemed to vanish, replaced by an almost supernatural vitality. They threw their heads back and released a deafening roar, their voices shaking the very earth beneath them. Volk smirked, they were going to die if this continued, so with his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Now," he said, his voice cutting through the roar like a blade, "let''s rest for now." Chapter 257 - 257: Comfortable scent The Orcs lounged around the makeshift camp, their armor clinking softly as they settled into a moment of well-earned rest. The earlier battles with the Ogres had left them physically tired but emotionally charged. As the crackle of the fire cast flickering shadows across the clearing, groups of Orcs began to chatter amongst themselves, their voices filled with a mix of awe, humor, and camaraderie. "I still can''t believe it," one burly Orc said, running a hand across his sweat-slicked brow. His voice carried a hint of amazement. "We fought those giants. And not only did we survive, we won. You saw how huge they were, right? Like mountains with arms." Another Orc, younger and leaner, laughed as he poked at a stick in the fire. "Aye, I saw you freeze up when one swung that club at you. Thought you were gonna piss yourself!" "Shut it!" the first Orc barked, but his grin betrayed his words. "You weren''t much better, you know. Scrambling around like a headless chicken when Volk yelled at you to hold the line." The younger Orc chuckled, shaking his head. "You''re right. I didn''t think we''d make it through that first charge. But when Volk shouted that command¡ª''Hold the defense!''¡ªit was like my body just moved. Didn''t even think about it. Just raised my shield and hoped for the best." Another cluster of Orcs leaned against a fallen tree, their conversation quieter but no less lively. "Did you see those Ogres?" one of them murmured, his voice low as though speaking the word ''Ogre'' might summon one from the darkness. "The way they moved¡­ It wasn''t like before. They were smarter, more coordinated." "Smarter?" another Orc scoffed. "They''re still brutes, even if Volk got ''em in line. Did you see that big one stumble when Volk made him squat? Funniest thing I''ve seen all day." "Funny, sure," the first Orc replied, his tone more contemplative. "But did you notice how they didn''t give up? They kept going, even when it was clear they were outmatched. Almost makes me respect the bastards." A few Orcs near the edge of the group exchanged quieter, more personal reflections. "I thought I was dead," one of them admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "When that Ogre swung its fist at me¡­ I froze. Just stood there. If Volk hadn''t yelled at me to duck¡­" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Same here," another Orc said, his tone somber. "I''ve fought plenty of battles, but nothing like this. Those things could crush us with a single blow. And yet¡­ we''re still here. Still standing." "Because of Volk," a third Orc interjected firmly. "He''s different. He doesn''t just fight; he commands. Makes you believe you can do the impossible." The others nodded in agreement, their expressions a mix of gratitude and awe. Volk stood apart from the others, his piercing golden eyes scanning the camp. He could hear snippets of their conversations, their words a testament to the battles they had faced together. However, his attention was elsewhere¡ªfocused on the shimmering system interface that only he could see. Each Orc and Ogre in the camp was listed in neat, glowing text, their names, races, and levels displayed with crisp clarity. The Orcs, hardened warriors all, ranged in levels from 16 to 20. The Ogres, now shackled and bound to his command, were even more formidable, their levels hovering between 29 and 30. He studied the information with a critical eye. This wasn''t just a horde¡ªit was becoming a disciplined army, each member a piece in a larger, more intricate puzzle. The sound of heavy footsteps broke his concentration. Volk turned to see one of the Ogres approaching, its massive form looming over him. The shackle around its neck clinked softly with each step, the severed chains swaying with its movements. "Warchief," the Ogre rumbled, its voice deep and guttural. "Why¡­ you smell like Ogre? You¡­ an Orc." The question hung in the air like a challenge. For a moment, the camp fell silent, every Orc and Ogre turning to look at Volk. Volk tilted his head, a sly smile playing at his lips. "My bloodline," he said simply, his voice calm and steady. "It''s not just Orc. It''s Ogre as well." The reaction was immediate. The Orcs erupted into murmurs, their voices a mixture of shock and disbelief. "What did he just say?" one Orc whispered, his eyes wide. "Ogre blood?" another muttered, shaking his head. "That can''t be right." "Is that why he''s so strong?" a third Orc speculated, his voice tinged with awe. "Because he''s part Ogre?" The Ogres, meanwhile, stared at Volk in stunned silence. Their simple minds struggled to process the revelation, but the impact was clear. For the first time, they looked at him not just as a leader but as something more¡ªa kindred spirit, perhaps even a kin. Volk let the moment stretch, savoring the weight of their gazes. Then, an idea began to form in his mind. If he was destined to transform into his Radioactive form in the future, why not begin planting the seeds of loyalty and awe now? Clearing his throat, Volk raised his voice so that all could hear. "Listen up!" he called, his tone commanding yet inviting. "I can see the questions in your eyes. The doubts. The curiosity. You want to know more, don''t you?" The Orcs and Ogres nodded, their attention fully on him now. "Then sit down," Volk said, gesturing for them to gather closer. "I''ll tell you a story." There was a moment of hesitation before the horde began to move, their curiosity overriding their weariness. They settled around him in a rough semicircle, their eyes fixed on their Warchief. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk waited until the last of them was seated, then took a deep breath, letting the silence build. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and deliberate, drawing them in like a flame draws moths. "Alright," he said, his golden eyes glinting in the firelight. "Listen closely. This is a story you won''t want to miss." The camp fell into an expectant hush, every face turned toward Volk, their anticipation palpable. The distant group of Orcs, lounging against the far side of the campfire, let out a chorus of chuckles. Their laughter was guttural and coarse, a sharp contrast to the hushed atmosphere surrounding Volk. "Oi, what''s all this about a story, eh?" one of them called, his voice dripping with mockery. "Didn''t know we were at a bedtime camp, eh boys?" Another Orc from the same group smirked, leaning forward with exaggerated curiosity. "Maybe the Warchief''s got a fairy tale for us. You think it''s about Orcs finding golden treasure?" The group burst into laughter again, their voices echoing across the clearing. The Orcs from Volk''s side bristled. One of them, a tall warrior with a prominent scar across his jaw, rose to his feet. "Shut your filthy mouths!" he bellowed, his deep voice cutting through the laughter. "The Warchief''s about to speak!" Another Orc stood up beside him, pointing a finger toward the other group. "You think this is funny? You want to mock him? Go ahead and see what happens when Volk hears it!" The laughing Orcs exchanged wary glances, their chuckles fading into uneasy murmurs. They may have been bold, but they weren''t foolish enough to push their luck. One by one, they quieted, leaving the camp in a tense silence. Satisfied, the Orcs loyal to Volk turned back toward their Warchief, nodding in deference. Chapter 258 - 258: Story telling Volk''s golden eyes swept over the gathered crowd, his presence commanding every ounce of their attention. He waited a moment, letting the silence deepen, before speaking. "Do you believe," Volk began, his voice low and measured, "that an Orc can become an Ogre? That an Orc and an Ogre can be one?" The question hung in the air like a thundercloud, drawing confused murmurs from both sides of the horde. "That''s ridiculous," one Orc muttered, shaking his head. "How could an Orc become an Ogre?" "It''s impossible," another said, his brow furrowed. "We''re strong, but we''re nothing like those giants. They''re¡­ different." An Ogre grunted, its voice a low rumble. "Ogre¡­ born Ogre. Orc¡­ born Orc. No same." Another Ogre nodded slowly, scratching its head. "Ogre big. Ogre strong. Orc¡­ not same strong." One of the Orcs stood, clenching his fists. "And what would we even gain from it? Ogres are stupid. They can''t think for themselves. I''d rather stay an Orc than be one of them!" The arguments continued to flow like a river, each voice adding to the growing cacophony of disbelief. "Ogres don''t fight like us," an older Orc said, his tone dismissive. "They swing their clubs around without thinking. Orcs are warriors. We fight with purpose." "Have you seen how they eat?" another Orc scoffed, his lip curling in disgust. "They''d swallow a rock if they thought it tasted good. No Orc would stoop to that." "They''re beasts," an Ogre grunted, surprisingly agreeing with the Orcs. "Not like us. We¡­ warriors. Orcs¡­ warriors too. No same beast." Volk allowed the conversation to continue, his sharp gaze observing every word, every gesture. Finally, when the voices began to wane, he raised his hand, silencing them with a single motion. "You''re all wrong," Volk said, his voice cutting through the night like a blade. "Orcs can become Ogres. In fact, Ogres were once Orcs." The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Volk''s words sinking into the minds of his audience. "That''s a lie!" an Orc shouted, his voice trembling with anger. "We''re nothing like them! How could that be true?" "Let me tell you why," Volk said, his tone steady. "It''s because of the Warlocks. They turned Orcs into Ogres. They took our people¡ªour brothers, our sisters¡ªand twisted them into mindless beasts of war. They stripped them of their identity and made them into weapons." A wave of fury rippled through the horde. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Warlocks?" an Orc spat, his face contorted with rage. Volk would reply and say yes, "they were somehow related to mages." The Orc would be angry, "Like those cursed magic-wielding cowards!? They think they can turn us into slaves?" "Never!" another Orc roared, pounding his chest with a clenched fist. "We''re warriors, not tools for their schemes!" An Ogre growled, its massive hands clenched into fists. "Ogre¡­ not slave. Ogre fight¡­ for self. Not Warlock." The cries of defiance grew louder, the horde''s anger uniting them in a shared hatred for their unseen enemies. "They think we''re weak," an Orc shouted, his voice rising above the din. "But we''re not! We''re Orcs! We fight for ourselves, not for anyone else!" "And Ogres," another added, his gaze shifting toward their massive allies, "you''re part of this too. They used you, just like they tried to use us. But we''re not their pawns!" Volk raised his hand again, and the horde fell silent, their eyes fixed on him with a newfound intensity. "But what if," Volk said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "you don''t have a choice?" The question lingered, heavy with implication. The horde stared at him, their fury tempered by a flicker of uncertainty. "What if they take everything from you?" Volk continued, his golden eyes scanning the crowd. "Your freedom. Your will. What if they make you fight against your own kin, and you can''t stop them?" The weight of his words settled over the horde, their expressions shifting from anger to something darker¡ªfear. For the first time, they began to understand the true horror of what Volk was describing. Volk stood tall, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features. His golden eyes gleamed with a fiery intensity, and his voice lowered to a grim tone, making every Orc and Ogre present lean in closer. "They wouldn''t stop," Volk said slowly, letting the words sink in. "The Warlocks¡­ they wouldn''t just stop at turning our kind into monsters. No. They would take the weakest among us, those too broken to resist, and slaughter them like cattle. And then, they would force the strong ones, the Ogres, to reproduce. Breeding them like livestock." The crowd of Orcs and Ogres collectively froze, disbelief flashing across their faces. "But that''s not all," Volk continued, his voice sharpening like a blade. "They would weave spells into the very souls of those newborns. Spells that stripped them of their freedom, their identity. Spells that made them nothing but loyal dogs to the Warlocks. Mindless weapons to be used in their wars." The Orcs erupted. "WHAT?" one of them roared, his voice echoing through the forest like thunder. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Those cursed Warlocks! How dare they?!" "They breed us like pigs?!" another shouted, slamming his axe into the ground. "We''re not animals! We''re warriors!" "They want to strip our souls away?" an older Orc growled, his weathered face contorted with rage. "I''d rather die a thousand deaths than let them take my spirit!" Even the Ogres, typically slow to react, growled deeply, their massive hands curling into fists. "Warlock¡­ bad," one Ogre rumbled, his voice shaking with anger. "Ogre¡­ not dog. Ogre¡­ warrior!" "Ogre fight¡­ not breed!" another bellowed, his heavy foot stomping into the ground with enough force to crack the earth beneath him. "Ogre¡­ no slave!" The rage of the horde swelled like a tidal wave, each voice adding to the chorus of fury. "Curse the Warlocks!" "Kill them all!" "They''ll pay for what they''ve done to us!" Volk let the anger simmer for a moment, watching as the fury united Orcs and Ogres alike. Then, he raised his hand, commanding silence once more. "And that," Volk said, his voice cutting through the din like a whip, "is why they feared us. They didn''t fear our strength. They feared our spirit. They feared the very thing they tried to break." The crowd fell silent, their eyes locked on Volk as he continued. "But the Warlocks underestimated us. They underestimated the spirit of the Orcs. Because even as they twisted and broke us, as they turned us into Ogres and shackled us to their will, they couldn''t destroy the fire inside us. They couldn''t destroy our essence. And do you know what happened then?" One of the younger Orcs, wide-eyed and trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation, dared to ask, "What¡­ what happened?" Volk''s lips curled into a grim smile. "Our ancestors, the ones they twisted into Ogres, escaped." The reaction was immediate. "They escaped?" an Orc exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief. "They broke free of the Warlocks'' chains?" another asked, his eyes lighting up with hope. "Did they kill the Warlocks?" an Ogre bellowed, his massive hands trembling with barely contained excitement. "Did they have their revenge?" "Did they destroy those cursed spellcasters?!" The questions came in rapid succession, the Orcs and Ogres leaning forward eagerly, their anger now tempered with a burning curiosity. "How did they escape?" "Did they fight their way out?" "Did they burn the Warlocks'' towers to the ground?" "Tell us!" Volk raised his hand again, and the camp fell silent once more. The anticipation was palpable, every pair of eyes fixed on him, every ear straining to catch his next words. "The ancestors," Volk said, his voice steady and deliberate, "escaped because the Warlocks underestimated their spirit. The Orcs who became Ogres may have been twisted in body, but their will was unbroken. And it was that unbroken will that led them to freedom." He let the words hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the horde. "And yes," Volk added, his eyes narrowing, "they fought back. They turned on their masters. They struck fear into the hearts of the Warlocks, showing them that no magic, no chain, no curse could ever truly break an Orc¡ªor an Ogre." The crowd erupted once more, their voices a thunderous roar of approval and anger. "That''s right!" "They thought they could break us, but they were wrong!" "Warlocks beware! We''re coming for you!" Even the Ogres joined in, their guttural voices adding a deeper resonance to the chorus of defiance. "Ogre¡­ fight back!" "Ogre¡­ no slave! Ogre¡­ warrior!" Volk watched them, his expression unreadable. But deep down, he felt a spark of satisfaction. The seed he had planted was taking root, and the horde was beginning to see the truth of his words. Now, it was only a matter of time before they were ready to face the real enemy. Chapter 259 - 259: New purpose Volk''s face darkened, and his voice lowered to a grim tone that sent shivers through the gathered crowd. "However¡­" he began, his voice slow and deliberate, drawing their full attention, "they lost." The Orcs froze, their expressions twisting from anger into disbelief and fear. "Lost?" one Orc whispered, his voice barely audible, as if speaking the word might make it real. "They lost?" another repeated, his hands gripping his weapon tightly. "How could they lose?!" "That can''t be!" an older Orc growled, his face pale despite his hardened features. "Our ancestors were the strongest warriors! How could they lose?" The Ogres were slower to react, but even they exchanged uneasy glances, their growls fading into a tense silence. "No¡­ no lose," one Ogre muttered, shaking his massive head. "Ogre¡­ no lose." The murmurs grew louder, panic creeping into the voices of the horde. "They lost? Then what chance do we have?" "If even they couldn''t win, how can we fight against the Warlocks?" "Does this mean¡­ we''re doomed?" A younger Orc clutched at his chest, his breaths coming fast. "They killed them all? Every one of them?" "What kind of power could defeat an entire army of Ogres and Orcs?" The fear was palpable now, spreading like wildfire through the horde. Volk let it simmer for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the panicked faces. Then, just as the tension reached its peak, he spoke again. "But before they fell¡­" Volk''s voice cut through the chaos like a blade, silencing the crowd instantly. "Before their defeat, they made one final, desperate act of defiance." The Orcs and Ogres stared at him, their fear giving way to a tense anticipation. "They sent their children away," Volk continued, his voice steady and deliberate. "Down to the lower realms, to a place where they could grow stronger, free from the Warlocks'' grasp. A place where they could one day return¡­ to have their revenge." "Children?" an Orc blurted out, his eyes wide with shock. "Lower realms?" another asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What does that mean?" a third demanded. "What lower realm?" Volk turned to face the horde fully, his golden eyes glowing with a fierce intensity. "This realm," he said, his voice firm. "Orzaroth. The very ground you stand on. It is the lower realm. And you¡­ all of you¡­ are their descendants." The Orcs gasped, their jaws dropping as they exchanged incredulous looks. "This realm?!" one shouted. "We''re in the lower realm?!" "They sent their children here¡­ and we''re their children?" "Does that mean we were meant to carry out their revenge?" The questions came in a flood, the horde struggling to process the revelation. "But why send us here? What''s so special about this place?" "What does it mean to be in a lower realm? Are we weaker than them?" sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Why didn''t they just fight harder and win?" Volk raised his hand, silencing the clamor once more. His voice took on a calm, almost teaching tone as he explained. "The lower realm," Volk said, "is a plane of existence different from the higher realms where the Warlocks dwell. It is a place of lesser strength, lesser magic. "The creatures here are not as powerful as those above. But that is precisely why they sent you here. To grow, to learn, to forge your strength in a crucible far from the Warlocks'' reach." The horde absorbed his words, their initial panic giving way to a cautious understanding. "So¡­ the lower realm is like training grounds?" one Orc asked, his voice tinged with hope. "But if this is the lower realm," another said, "does that mean there are higher realms? Realms where Orcs and Ogres are even stronger than us?" Volk nodded, a grim smile playing on his lips. "Yes," he confirmed. "The higher realms are places of unimaginable power. Realms where Orcs and Ogres like us live and fight at levels you can scarcely comprehend. "And one day, when you are ready, you will ascend to those realms. You will face the Warlocks and their forces. And you will fulfill the destiny your ancestors entrusted to you." The Orcs and Ogres exchanged glances, their fear replaced by a growing determination. "So, we''re not just here to survive," one said, his voice growing stronger. "We''re here to prepare. To become strong enough to face them." "To become warriors who can finish what our ancestors started," another added, gripping his weapon tightly. "To prove that the spirit of the Orcs and Ogres can never be broken," a third declared, his eyes blazing with resolve. Volk watched them, the spark of determination catching fire in their eyes. He nodded, satisfied. "Yes," he said. "But you must be ready. The path ahead will not be easy. The Warlocks are still out there, and they will not rest until they have destroyed everything we stand for. "But with strength, with unity, and with the unyielding spirit of our ancestors, we will rise. And we will show them what it means to be Orcs and Ogres." The Ogres erupted in cheers, their booming voices shaking the forest around them. Their excitement was raw and primal, each shout laced with years of pent-up frustration finally finding an outlet. "FIGHT!" one massive Ogre roared, raising his meaty fists high above his head. "NO LOSE! NEVER LOSE AGAIN!" Another slammed his enormous foot into the ground, causing the earth to quake. "WARLOCKS PAY! MAKE THEM FEEL OGRE FIST!" "REVENGE!" a third bellowed, his voice carrying across the clearing. "OGRES NO SLAVE! OGRES FREE!" The cheers grew louder and more chaotic, blending into a cacophony of anger and triumph. "SMASH THEM ALL!" "NO MORE CHAIN!" "WARLOCKS FEAR OGRES NOW!" "WE STRONG! WE WIN!" The Orcs, slightly more composed, began adding their voices to the mix. "For the ancestors!" "For the horde!" "Let them see our wrath!" An older Orc clapped his hands together, his voice shaking with emotion. "Finally¡­ finally, we have a purpose beyond just surviving!" A younger Orc jumped up and down, swinging his axe wildly in the air. "We''ll show them what Orcs and Ogres can do together!" The female Ogres joined in, their voices higher but no less fierce. "NO TAKE OGRE BABY AGAIN!" "FIGHT FOR FUTURE!" Even the usually stoic members of the horde found themselves swept up in the fervor. Volk watched with a faint smirk, letting the chaotic celebration run its course. But after a while, he raised a hand, his sharp eyes glinting. "Enough." The command sliced through the noise like a blade, and slowly, the horde quieted. The silence hung heavy for a moment before one Orc stepped forward, his brows furrowed. "Warchief," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Is that it? Is there¡­ more to the story?" All eyes turned to Volk, their faces filled with expectation. Volk let the question hang in the air, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he said, "Yes. There is more. Much more." The horde leaned in closer, their anticipation palpable. "Elves," Volk said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Elves?" several Orcs echoed, their confusion evident. "Yes," Volk continued, his tone calm but commanding. "Elves. They were our ancestors'' wives." Chapter 260 - 260: Rarity The reaction was instantaneous. "WHAT?!" an Orc shouted, his jaw practically hitting the ground. "Elves?!" a female Orc gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Those dainty, skinny things?!" "No way!" another Orc yelled, shaking his head violently. "That can''t be right! Warchief, are you joking?!" The Ogres, slower to process the information, tilted their heads in confusion. "ELVES¡­ WIVES?" one rumbled, scratching his head. "SKINNY PEOPLE?" another asked, his massive brow furrowed. The female Ogres snorted, their reactions ranging from disbelief to outright disgust. "NO WANT SKINNY WIFE!" one declared, folding her massive arms. "OGRE NO NEED POINTY-EAR WOMAN!" another added, her nose wrinkling. The Orcs continued to mutter among themselves, their reactions varied and chaotic. "But how? Elves and Orcs are so¡­ different!" "I thought elves hated us!" "Does that mean we have elf blood in us?!" "Eww, I don''t want elf blood!" "Wait, does that mean the Ogres do too?!" The female Orcs, in particular, seemed to take the news personally. "Are you telling me our ancestors couldn''t find proper Orc women?" one demanded, her hands on her hips. "They had to go for elves?" "Why would anyone choose an elf over an Orc?!" another snapped, glaring at the male Orcs as if the decision had been theirs personally. A younger female Orc crossed her arms, pouting. "I don''t care if they''re our ancestors; they had bad taste." The male Orcs, meanwhile, were equally split. "Maybe it makes sense," one mused. "Elves are magical, right? Maybe they made our ancestors stronger." "Stronger? Or weaker?" another countered, his voice skeptical. "Look at us. We''re nothing like elves!" "Do you think elves would still marry Orcs now?" one young Orc asked, his face red. "Shut up!" an older Orc barked, smacking him on the back of the head. "Don''t embarrass yourself!" Volk raised his hand again, silencing the uproar. His golden eyes glinted as he surveyed the horde, their shocked and outraged faces reflecting their inner turmoil. "I understand your reactions," Volk said, his voice calm yet firm. "But this is the truth. The elves were not just our ancestors'' wives¡ªthey were their partners in battle. "Their strength and magic combined with the raw power of Orcs and Ogres. Together, they were unstoppable. Together, they built a legacy we now carry." The horde fell into a tense silence, digesting his words. Even the most vocal dissenters seemed to reconsider, their expressions softening as they thought about the possibility. Finally, an older female Orc spoke, her voice steady. "If they fought with us¡­ if they shared our struggles¡­ then maybe they weren''t so bad." The Ogres grunted in agreement, their earlier skepticism fading. "SKINNY PEOPLE¡­ STRONG?" one mused, tilting his head. "IF FIGHT TOGETHER¡­ THEN OKAY," another rumbled. Volk smirked, satisfied with their reactions. "Good," he said. "Because this story isn''t over. And if you think this revelation was surprising, just wait until you hear what comes next." The horde leaned in closer, their curiosity reignited, as Volk prepared to continue. Volk took a deep breath, preparing to drop the next bombshell. The horde, leaning forward in rapt attention, was not prepared for what came next. "Whenever elves and Orcs mated," Volk began, his voice steady, "their offspring were¡­ unique." The crowd stiffened, hanging onto his every word. "If the child was male," Volk said, "it would be an Orc." There was a beat of silence. "And if the child was female," Volk continued, his voice cutting through the tension, "it would be an elf." The reaction was immediate and explosive. "WHAT?!" a younger Orc shouted, nearly dropping his weapon. "FEMALE ELF?!" an older Ogre roared, his voice shaking the trees. "THAT MAKE NO SENSE!" another bellowed, pounding his fist into the ground. But none reacted more intensely than the female Orcs. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" one screamed, her eyes blazing with fury. "MALE ORCS ONLY?!" another snapped, shoving the male Orc nearest to her. "This is outrageous!" one snarled, stomping her foot with enough force to crack the ground beneath her. "Do you mean to tell me that our ancestors¡ªOUR ancestors¡ªfavored elves over us?!" The chaos was absolute. "I don''t believe it!" "This is ridiculous!" "Elves stealing our men?! Our legacy?!" "Warchief, are you sure this isn''t some lie made up by the Warlocks to mess with us?" "WHY ONLY MALE?!" a female Orc yelled, stepping forward to glare at Volk. "ARE WE NOT GOOD ENOUGH?!" Another growled low in her throat. "Our ancestors were fools! Elves couldn''t survive without magic, and yet they''re considered better than us?" "They probably didn''t have a choice," one male Orc muttered, shrinking back under the glares of the females around him. "Don''t make excuses!" a particularly burly female snarled, jabbing a finger at him. "They should have fought harder!" The male Orcs, meanwhile, looked caught between confusion and fear, trying not to meet the seething glares of their female counterparts. "I-I mean¡­ maybe it wasn''t so bad?" one stammered, his voice faltering. "The elves did help us¡ª" "HELP?!" a female barked, cutting him off. "Do you think birthing their skinny daughters was helping us?! We''re the backbone of this horde!" Another male Orc timidly raised a hand. "But Warchief, if the males were Orcs, didn''t that mean the elves contributed something useful?" This only earned him a smack upside the head from a nearby female. "You''re lucky we don''t contribute your skull to the pile, you idiot!" Even the Ogres were getting riled up. "SKINNY GIRL BETTER THAN ORC WOMAN?" one grunted, looking genuinely perplexed. "NO MAKE SENSE!" another agreed, crossing his massive arms. "ORC WOMAN STRONG. WHY CHOOSE SKINNY GIRL?" A female Ogre snorted. "SKINNY GIRL USELESS. NO CARRY CLUB, NO SMASH ENEMY." "SKINNY GIRL NO COOK GOOD FOOD!" another added, glaring at the male Ogres as if they personally had made the decision. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a blade, and Volk could see that the female Orcs'' jealousy was reaching a dangerous boiling point. He raised a hand to calm the storm, his golden eyes scanning the furious crowd. "ENOUGH!" Volk''s voice thundered, silencing the chaos instantly. The horde turned to him, their faces still twisted with anger and frustration. "Listen to me," Volk said, his tone firm but calm. "I understand your anger. I understand your frustration. But let me remind you of something." He gestured to the female Orcs, his gaze sweeping across them. "You are rare. You are strong. You are irreplaceable." The female Orcs blinked, their anger momentarily giving way to confusion. Volk continued, his voice softer now but no less commanding. "The elves may have been our ancestors'' wives, but look around you. Who stands by your side now? Who fights with you? Who bleeds with you?" He pointed at the male Orcs. "It''s them. Your brothers. Your mates. Your comrades." He shifted his gaze to the male Orcs, his expression hardening. "And you¡ªtreasure these women. They are the lifeblood of our horde. Without them, we are nothing. They are warriors, just like you, and they deserve your respect." The male Orcs nodded quickly, their expressions sheepish but determined. "Yes, Warchief!" "They''re strong, Warchief!" S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "We''ll treat them better!" The female Orcs softened slightly, their pride bolstered by Volk''s words, though a few still muttered under their breath. Satisfied, Volk took a step back. "Good. Now that we''ve cleared that up, we don''t have much to discuss anymore." The horde, though still buzzing with residual energy, fell silent, so it ends here huh? Chapter 261 - 261: March The human knights marched in unison, their polished armor reflecting the dim light of the setting sun. Their boots pounded the dirt road in rhythmic unison, CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!, a sound that sent shivers down the spines of any who might dare to oppose them. The air was thick with tension, and the distant cries of crows circling above only heightened the ominous atmosphere. At the forefront of the column, mounted on a massive, scaled magical lizard that hissed and snapped at anything too close, was the infamous Gerhardt, the old mage. His mage''s uniform, adorned with golden threads and arcane runes, shimmered faintly with magical energy. His face, lined with age but alight with fervor, scanned the horizon with a gaze that promised no mercy. Suddenly, Gerhardt''s booming voice erupted across the battlefield, a sound so powerful it seemed to rattle the very trees nearby. "KNIGHTS! FORM YOUR RANKS!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the clamor of armor and marching feet. "THE FILTHY ORCS ARE NEAR! READY YOUR WEAPONS!" The soldiers immediately obeyed, the sound of swords unsheathing and spears being readied filling the air like a chorus of steel. Shields clanked as they were raised, forming an impenetrable wall of gleaming metal. "REMEMBER WHY WE MARCH!" Gerhardt roared, his magical lizard rearing back and letting out a bone-chilling screech. The soldiers flinched but held their ground. "THESE SAVAGES TOOK OUR LAND!" he continued, his voice rising with each word. "THEY SLAUGHTERED BARON GEISLER, OUR BELOVED RULER, IN COLD BLOOD! WILL WE STAND BY AND ALLOW SUCH AN INSULT TO OUR HONOR?" "NO!" the knights shouted in unison, their voices thunderous and resolute. Gerhardt raised his staff, its tip crackling with raw magical energy. The light illuminated his weathered face, making him look more like a wrathful god than a man. "THEN LET US SHOW THESE VERMIN THE POWER OF CIVILIZATION! LET THEM SEE THE WRATH OF THE BARON''S AVENGERS!" The knights cheered, their cries echoing across the land like the roar of an unstoppable storm. The mage''s fiery words had lit a flame in their hearts, turning their fear into righteous fury. The army''s banners, depicting the Baron''s coat of arms, fluttered violently in the wind. The crimson and gold symbols stood out against the darkening sky, a beacon of vengeance and power. Five hundred strong, the knights marched onward, their formation perfect, their discipline unwavering. "ARCHERS!" Gerhardt bellowed, his sharp eyes darting to a unit of bowmen riding behind the main force. "READY YOUR ARROWS! IF THE ORCS COME CLOSE, WE WILL RAIN HELL UPON THEM!" The archers, clad in lighter armor, quickly nocked arrows tipped with glimmering steel. Their bows creaked under the strain, their faces set with grim determination. Gerhardt''s voice dropped slightly, but the menace in it only grew. "Let no one falter," he hissed, his tone colder than the autumn wind. "We march not just to kill, but to cleanse. These beasts do not deserve the breath in their lungs. They are a blight on this world. And we," he paused, pointing his glowing staff toward the horizon, "are the cure!" The knights roared again, their voices filled with bloodlust and resolve. The ground beneath them seemed to tremble as the column pressed forward. The weight of five hundred armored men, each step a declaration of vengeance, was enough to intimidate even the most stalwart of foes. "BE READY!" Gerhardt shouted again, his staff pulsing with energy. "THESE ORCS WILL TRY TO AMBUSH US, LIKE THE COWARDS THEY ARE! BUT WE SHALL BE READY FOR THEM!" "YES, GRANDMASTER!" the soldiers replied, their voices ringing with obedience and loyalty. The mage''s lizard hissed again, its glowing eyes scanning the surroundings. It seemed to sense the tension in the air, the inevitable clash of steel and blood that awaited them. "DO NOT FORGET YOUR TRAINING!" Gerhardt barked, his voice cutting through the ambient noise like a blade. "YOU ARE THE PRIDE OF THIS LAND, THE SHIELD OF OUR PEOPLE! LET NO ORC''S AXE PIERCE YOUR ARMOR! LET NO OGRE''S CLUB CRUSH YOUR SPIRIT!" "FOR THE BARON!" a knight shouted, and the cry was quickly taken up by the rest of the army. "FOR THE BARON!" "FOR OUR LAND!" "FOR HONOR AND GLORY!" As they advanced, the terrain grew darker, the thick trees casting ominous shadows across their path. Gerhardt, ever vigilant, raised a hand to slow the march. "HALT!" he commanded, his voice sharp and unwavering. The column stopped instantly, the silence broken only by the rustling of leaves and the faint hiss of the lizard beneath him. Gerhardt narrowed his eyes, scanning the darkness. His staff glowed brighter, casting eerie light across the trees. "KNIGHTS!" he called, his voice low but carrying. "This is no ordinary march. You are not fighting ordinary beasts. Keep your wits about you. Stay close to your brothers and sisters in arms. And remember¡ªthere is no greater glory than dying for our cause!" The soldiers nodded, their faces a mixture of fear and determination. The younger knights clutched their weapons tightly, their knuckles white. The veterans, though hardened, kept their gazes fixed on the horizon, knowing that death could come from any direction. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The mage turned his attention back to the path ahead, his expression unreadable. "The Orcs think themselves clever," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "But their savagery will be their undoing. They will learn the true meaning of fear." And with that, the army continued its march, their footsteps pounding like a heartbeat of war, the air around them heavy with the promise of bloodshed. Suddenly, the steady march of the five hundred knights slowed as five distinct figures rode forward from the rear ranks, their magical beasts stirring awe and fear even among the hardened soldiers. Each mage, cloaked in robes of varying colors that shimmered with an arcane glow, approached Gerhardt. Their beasts were as strange and menacing as their masters: one rode a wingless wyvern with scales like molten lava; another a crystalline stag whose antlers pulsed with a soft blue light; the third sat atop a serpentine creature that seemed to swim through the air as though it were water; the fourth commanded a hulking, horned feline with glowing green eyes; and the last, a cloaked figure, rode a pitch-black arachnid that clattered menacingly with each step. The knights murmured among themselves as the mages approached. Their conversations were tinged with unease and respect. The presence of these individuals only underscored the gravity of the situation. Gerhardt, seated on his massive lizard mount, raised his staff high, its tip glowing brighter with each passing second. His voice rang out like thunder, cutting through the murmurs and silencing the crowd. "Mages!" he bellowed, addressing the five. "Step forward and hear my words. What lies ahead is no mere skirmish. This is no trivial exercise in spellcraft. "This is war. You stand on the precipice of history, and your actions will determine whether you rise as legends or fall as forgotten corpses. "Not just that, you are all fighting for humanity too! This is your chance to enhance your magic and use it in real time combat, you hear me! Be prepared!" The mages urged their beasts closer, their faces a mixture of youthful determination and quiet dread. Chapter 262 - 262: Enemies spotted The mage atop the wyvern, a young man with fiery red hair and a matching cloak, was the first to speak. "Master Gerhardt, we are ready. We''ve trained for this. We¡ª" "Silence, boy!" Gerhardt snapped, his tone harsh and commanding. The young mage flinched, his wyvern letting out a low growl. "Do not presume to tell me what you are ready for. You have no idea what awaits you beyond that treeline." He gestured toward the dark forest ahead, where shadows danced ominously. The crystalline stag rider, a woman with sharp features and silver hair, spoke up next. "We''ve studied the spells, Master Gerhardt. We''ve practiced the rituals. We¡ª" "Practice means nothing when faced with the chaos of battle!" Gerhardt interrupted again, his voice cutting through her words like a blade. "A thousand incantations will not save you if your hands tremble. A single misstep, a single moment of hesitation, and you will fall. And let me be clear: there will be no time to mourn you." The other mages exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence faltering under Gerhardt''s piercing gaze. The mage on the serpentine beast, a wiry man with sunken eyes, finally asked, "Then why bring us here if you doubt our abilities?" Gerhardt turned his attention to him, his expression dark and severe. "Because, apprentice, you will either prove your worth here or die trying. That is the way of the Order. No mage who has ever stood in this position has done so without earning it. "But earning it is not enough. Surviving this battle will determine whether you are worthy of the title of true mage." The youngest of the group, a girl barely out of her teens who rode the horned feline, spoke in a trembling voice. "Master Gerhardt... what if we¡ª" "What if you die?" Gerhardt finished for her, his voice cold. "Then you die with honor. But mark my words, if you falter, if you flee, if you betray the Order''s creed, your death will be neither honorable nor remembered. "The knights at your back would sooner cut you down themselves than allow such disgrace to fester in their ranks." S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The girl paled, her grip tightening on her reins. The cloaked figure on the spider, silent until now, finally spoke in a gravelly voice. "You speak of death as though it is inevitable, Master Gerhardt. Yet you brought us here knowing the risk. Are we truly so expendable?" Gerhardt''s eyes narrowed, his staff flaring with light. "Expendable? No. Crucial. You are the spear that will pierce the heart of the enemy. You are the fire that will burn their wretched forms to ash. "Without you, this army is vulnerable. With you, it is unstoppable. But only if you prove yourselves." He straightened in his saddle, his voice rising to address the entire army. "KNIGHTS! MAGES! HEAR ME!" The soldiers and mages alike turned their attention to him, the air thick with anticipation. "This is not just a battle! This is vengeance! This is justice! The filthy Orcs and their vile horde have taken from us what can never be replaced. "They have spilled noble blood, desecrated our lands, and spat upon our honor. Today, we make them pay. Today, we remind them why humanity rules this realm!" The knights cheered, their voices a deafening roar that shook the ground. The mages exchanged uncertain glances, but even they could not deny the surge of adrenaline coursing through them. Gerhardt turned back to the mages, his tone quieter but no less intense. "You may not survive this day. But if you do, you will emerge as true mages, worthy of the Order''s legacy. You will carry the pride of our people on your shoulders. You will be heroes." He leaned forward, his eyes burning with conviction. "But if you falter, if you fail, you will be nothing more than ashes in the wind. So I ask you now: Are you ready to sacrifice everything for glory?" The mages, their expressions a mixture of fear and determination, nodded. "Good," Gerhardt said, a cruel smile playing at his lips. He raised his staff high, its light piercing the gathering gloom. "THEN LET US SHOW THESE FILTHY ORCS THE TRUE MEANING OF POWER!" The knights erupted in cheers again, their cries echoing across the battlefield. The mages steeled themselves, their beasts growling and hissing in anticipation. The army moved forward, the weight of five hundred souls marching toward destiny, each step bringing them closer to the clash that would define their lives¡ªor end them. The human army continued its march, their boots stomping in rhythm, a sound that echoed through the quiet forest. The tension was palpable but manageable, with knights occasionally adjusting their grips on their swords or murmuring quiet prayers. The magical beasts the mages rode let out occasional growls or hisses, their glowing eyes scanning the horizon. Gerhardt sat tall on his magical lizard, his old but sharp eyes narrowing as he looked ahead. At first, there was nothing unusual. The treeline ahead was still, the path before them clear. He raised a hand to halt the army briefly. "Stay vigilant," he commanded. "These savages are cunning in their ambushes." The knights nodded, their armor clinking as they straightened their posture. The mages exchanged glances, their beasts restless but controlled. Then, faintly, a shadow appeared on the horizon. It was almost indistinguishable at first, a small blur that might have been a trick of the light. But it didn''t waver or vanish. Instead, it grew. "What is that?" whispered a young knight at the front, his voice trembling slightly. Gerhardt''s eyes narrowed further, and his grip on his staff tightened. "Silence," he snapped, his voice cutting through the murmurs. The shadow grew larger, splitting into multiple shapes, each one towering higher and broader than expected. "Is it... a caravan? Or reinforcements?" one of the knights asked, trying to reassure himself. "No," muttered a grizzled veteran near him, his eyes fixed on the shadows. "Look at the way they move. That''s not human." The realization spread like wildfire through the ranks, whispers growing louder as the shadows approached. Each step of the unseen figures seemed to reverberate through the earth, faint tremors felt under their boots. "Hold the line!" Gerhardt barked, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the unease even he felt. As the figures drew nearer, more details became clear. The shadows weren''t just large¡ªthey were massive, hulking shapes that moved with a precision that belied their size. They were in formation. "A formation?" one mage on his crystalline stag said incredulously. "They''re savages! How could they¡ª" Gerhardt silenced him with a glare. "This is no ordinary horde," he muttered. "They''ve been trained." The knights were no longer murmuring. Their silence spoke volumes, their collective fear hanging heavy in the air. The tension thickened with every step the shadows took closer. When the figures finally emerged from the treeline, the sight froze the entire human army in place. Orcs. But not just any Orcs. The front line was composed of monstrous warriors, their green and gray skin covered in scars that told stories of countless battles. They were heavily armored, each plate dented and battered but functional. Their weapons were crude yet deadly, some wielding massive cleavers, others heavy clubs embedded with sharp spikes. Behind them stood the towering Ogres, their immense size dwarfing even the largest of the human knights. They were draped in heavy chains, but these weren''t bindings of submission. The chains wrapped around their massive arms and torsos, their ends cut and jagged, swinging like weapons of their own. "What... what are those chains?" a knight stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "They look like beasts bound for war," another muttered, his hand trembling on the hilt of his sword. "Quiet!" Gerhardt snapped, though his own voice carried a slight tremor. His lizard mount shifted uneasily beneath him, sensing the rising tension. The Orcs'' formation was unnervingly organized. Each rank moved with precision, shields raised, weapons at the ready. Their steps were synchronized, their presence exuding an aura of discipline that seemed entirely out of place for a horde of so-called savages. "They''re... they''re an army," one of the mages whispered, disbelief etched across her face. "Impossible," Gerhardt growled, though his tone lacked conviction. "They''re beasts. Brainless brutes. This must be some trick, some illusion!" But as the Orcs and Ogres came closer, the reality of their appearance shattered any illusions the humans might have hoped for. The Orcs'' armor gleamed dully in the faint sunlight, patched and repaired with scraps of metal and bone. Their faces were grim, eyes burning with an unnatural intensity. The Ogres were even more terrifying. Their chains clanked with every step, the sound echoing like a death knell. Some had added spikes and blades to their bindings, turning them into makeshift weapons. Their eyes glowed faintly, a feral intelligence behind them that defied their brutish reputation. "Dear gods," one knight muttered, crossing himself. "What are we facing?" "They''re just Orcs," Gerhardt snapped, though his voice wavered. "And those... things... they''re just bigger Orcs. Hold your ground!" The human ranks shuffled, shields raised a little higher, swords held a little tighter. But the fear was palpable. As the Orcs and Ogres came closer, their numbers became more apparent. This wasn''t a small warband. This was a force, organized and ready for battle. And at their head stood a figure unlike the rest. Though still obscured by shadows, the leader''s presence was undeniable. His armor was larger, more ornate, and his stance exuded authority. The knights could feel his gaze, even at a distance, piercing through their ranks like a predator sizing up its prey. Gerhardt clenched his staff, his knuckles white. "Prepare yourselves," he commanded, his voice losing some of its earlier force. "This is no ordinary fight. Steel your hearts. This is a test of your resolve!" The knights shouted their affirmations, but their voices were tinged with hesitation. Even the mages, their beasts growling and hissing, seemed uncertain. The clash between two armies was inevitable. But for the humans, standing against the terrifyingly organized horde of Orcs and Ogres, it already felt like they were at a disadvantage even with their numbers. Chapter 263 - 263: Orc side formation 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). sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Level Five: Purge the Invaders Objective: Completely wipe out the entire human army. Leave no survivors. Reward: Radioactive Ban Nullified ¡ª 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¡ªtoday, 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¡ªcrush 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¡ªtheir 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¡ªcripple 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¡ªthe 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. "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." Chapter 264 - 264: Face off He stepped forward, towering over the questioning Orc, his shadow long and foreboding. His voice dropped into a growl that seemed to vibrate in their very bones. "These humans... these so-called knights and mages... they carry the bloodline of the Warlocks." Gasps rippled through the crowd. The mere mention of the Warlocks sent a chill down their spines. Volk let the shock settle before continuing, his voice rising with righteous fury. "Yes! The very Warlocks who butchered our ancestors! The ones who turned Orcs into mindless beasts, who tried to enslave our bloodline in the higher realm! "They thought they had wiped us out, leaving nothing but ashes and chains in their wake. But we are here! Their mistake was letting even a single Orc survive!" The Orcs stirred, murmurs of anger and disbelief spreading like wildfire. "Warlocks?" one growled. "Here, in this realm?" "They think they can run from us?" another snarled, pounding a fist against his shield. Volk raised a hand, silencing them. His voice thundered now, resonating across the field. "You may think these humans are weak, but they are the descendants of those who sought to destroy us. "Their blood carries the same arrogance, the same hunger for domination! And if we let even one of them live, they will regroup, grow stronger, and once again seek to annihilate us!" An enraged growl erupted from one of the Ogres, his massive fists slamming into the ground. Chains rattled ominously as others joined in, their deep voices blending with the rising cries of the Orcs. Volk''s eyes blazed as he continued. "Do you not understand? They left NOTHING of our ancestors alive in the higher realm! Not their villages, not their families, not even their children! "They butchered us down to the last infant, turning our bloodlines into mere whispers of the past!" The Orcs and Ogres roared in unison, fists and weapons raised high. The fury in their eyes mirrored the fire in Volk''s voice. He took another step forward, his boots crushing the soil beneath him as if to emphasize his point. "Now, it is our turn! To repay the blood debt that has stained the very fabric of our existence! We will not just defeat them¡ªwe will erase them. Leave NOTHING alive, just as they left nothing of our ancestors!" The crowd erupted into a frenzy. "They will know the fury of the horde!" one Orc shouted. "Warlocks or not, their blood will soak this earth!" another bellowed. "Warchief!" one Ogre roared, his chains rattling as he slammed a fist into his chest. "We will crush them all! For our bloodline! For vengeance!" Volk raised both arms, commanding their attention once more. "Do you feel that fire in your hearts? That is the spirit of our ancestors, burning brighter than ever! Their vengeance flows through our veins! Their screams of defiance echo in our war cries!" The Orcs and Ogres stomped, roared, and clashed weapons against shields. The ground itself seemed to tremble under their fury. But Volk wasn''t finished. He lowered his arms and took a step closer to the front lines, his voice dropping into a sinister growl that made every ear strain to listen. "Today, we don''t just fight for land or victory. We fight for our bloodline, for our honor. We fight to ensure that no human, no Warlock, ever dares to cross us again. We fight to show them that their reign of terror ends here!" S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Orcs howled in agreement, their rage boiling over. The female Orcs hissed and growled, baring teeth, their fists clenched tightly. The Ogres roared louder, pounding the ground with their massive hands. Volk''s grin widened, satisfied with the flames he had stoked. "And when the last human lies broken at our feet, the ancestors will look down upon us and see that the bloodline of the Orcs is stronger than ever! Now, my horde, tell me¡ªwill you let these humans live?" "NEVER!" they roared, their voices shaking the very forest. "Will you show them mercy?" "NONE!" "Then prepare yourselves! For today, the blood of the Warlocks flows, and the vengeance of the Orcs begins!" The horde erupted in a deafening roar, their cries of fury and agreement echoing far and wide. Weapons were raised, shields slammed together, and the very air seemed to vibrate with their bloodlust. Volk, standing tall at the head of his horde, nodded in approval. "Then let them come," he muttered under his breath, his crimson eyes gleaming. "And let them learn the true meaning of despair." The shadows of the human army stretched far across the land, their presence growing steadily as the figures approached. At first, it was but a speck in the distance, barely noticeable, but soon, that speck grew larger, more imposing, and the very air seemed to vibrate with the weight of their approach. Every footstep of the advancing army was a rumble in the earth, a testament to their numbers and strength. The marching of hundreds, maybe thousands, of humans on foot, their armor gleaming in the fading light, created a terrifying spectacle, the clinking of their weapons and shields reverberating like the sound of an impending storm. But it wasn''t the sheer number of soldiers that made the ground feel as if it were trembling under their advance. It was the six leading figures, far more menacing and powerful than any mere foot soldiers. At the head of them, an old man rode upon a magical lizard, his posture straight and imposing despite his age. The creature was massive, its scales reflecting the light with an eerie, unnatural gleam, a creature born from the depths of arcane magic itself. The old man''s robes billowed out behind him as if they were made of shadows, his face hidden beneath a dark hood, but his presence was undeniable. At the rear of the old man, five mages rode their own terrifying mounts, each one a distinct figure, as if they had been drawn from the deepest, most forgotten corners of the magical realms. Their beasts were as strange as their masters, each one exuding an aura of danger and power that would make even the bravest of warriors hesitate. The first mage rode a wyvern unlike any seen before. Its wings were short and frail-looking, yet the creature moved with terrifying grace, its scales a molten red that seemed to pulse with the heat of the earth itself. Faint trails of smoke curled from its nostrils, and its eyes burned like embers, casting a fiery glow on the landscape. The mage seated atop it was cloaked in dark red, his hands raised as if feeling the heat of the creature''s body, channeling the power of fire that burned within. The second mage, a woman draped in silver and blue, commanded a majestic, crystalline stag. Its form was delicate yet unyielding, with antlers made of sharp, frosty-blue crystals that seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. The stag moved with an ethereal grace, as if it barely touched the ground, its every step leaving behind shimmering trails of frost that hung in the air like whispers of magic. The woman''s eyes were as sharp as ice, and the air around her seemed to freeze in response to her will, creating a biting chill that followed her every movement. The third mage sat atop a serpentine creature, its body long and sinuous, twisting and coiling through the air as though it were swimming through an invisible ocean. Its scales were deep green, but with flashes of silver light reflecting off of them, creating the illusion of water running through its body. The mage himself was wrapped in a flowing green cloak that seemed to blend into the natural surroundings, his presence nearly as fluid as the serpent he rode. His hands wove through the air in smooth, graceful motions, and the magical energy that surrounded him rippled like the surface of a pond disturbed by a stone. The fourth mage rode a hulking feline beast, its body covered in dark fur and jagged black horns that curved out from its head like the twisted branches of a tree. The creature''s eyes glowed a sickly green, a supernatural light that seemed to pierce through the darkness. Its every step left deep impressions in the ground, and when it moved, it moved with the terrifying speed and grace of a predator stalking its prey. The mage atop it was an enigma, his dark cloak flowing around him like a shadow, his face concealed beneath a hood, but the power that radiated from him was palpable. The very air around him seemed to vibrate with unnatural energy, as if the ground itself was afraid of his presence. The fifth and final mage rode upon a creature of darkness itself¡ªa massive, pitch-black arachnid whose body was covered in chitinous armor that shimmered like ink in the moonlight. The creature''s legs were long and spindly, moving with an unsettling, jerky rhythm, and the sound of its many legs clattering across the earth was enough to make the hairs on the back of one''s neck stand on end. The mage, cloaked in black, sat atop the arachnid''s back with an eerie calm, his eyes glowing faintly red beneath his hood. The creature exuded an aura of dread, and every step it took seemed to be one closer to some dark, inevitable fate. As these six powerful figures drew closer, the ground beneath them seemed to pulse with a palpable tension, as if the earth itself was afraid of their approach. The human army behind them was a sea of steel, their armor gleaming and shields raised, their weapons ready for the coming clash. The knights, soldiers, and mages all stood ready, their faces grim and determined. But it was the magical beasts and their riders that truly stole the breath from the air. Their magical presence was overwhelming, as if reality itself bent and twisted around them. The air shimmered with the power they wielded, making the very atmosphere thick with energy. The armies of Orcs and Ogres, who had been preparing for a clash with what they thought would be a simple, mundane enemy, now felt the full weight of the opposition. The air was charged with anticipation, fear, and a sense of inevitability, as if the world itself held its breath, waiting for the moment when these two forces would collide. The tension was unbearable, and yet, neither side moved. The Ogres and Orcs stood firm, their weapons clenched tightly, eyes locked on the human forces ahead of them. Their commanders, Volk among them, stood at the forefront, waiting for the right moment to give the command. But the humans, too, were at the edge of their seats, preparing to unleash their fury. The ground trembled beneath their feet as the two armies, separated by only a few hundred yards, waited for the battle to begin. Chapter 265 - 265: Arrogant Emissary The humans hesitated for only a moment before their ranks parted, and from the mass of steel and banners stepped a single figure on horseback. The emissary wore polished plate armor that glinted in the faint light, adorned with the sigil of a golden griffon perched atop a crimson shield. He carried himself with the haughty air of someone who had never known fear or doubt in his life. His horse, a magnificent white steed with golden barding, trotted forward with a confidence that mirrored its rider''s demeanor. Volk, standing tall at the forefront of his formation, watched the emissary''s approach with faint amusement. His crimson eyes flickered, a sardonic grin playing on his lips as he noted the man''s utter lack of hesitation. Does he not see us? Volk thought, his gaze sweeping over the ranks of Orcs and towering Ogres behind him. Is he blind to the hulking forms and gleaming weapons? Or is he truly that foolish? The emissary reined in his horse just beyond the reach of any arrows or thrown weapons, raising a gauntleted hand as if to demand silence. The human soldiers behind him straightened, their discipline evident in their rigid stances. The air was thick with tension as every Orc, Ogre, and human waited to see what this solitary rider would say. The emissary''s voice rang out, sharp and imperious, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Horde of Orcs and beasts! I am Sir Reginald Godfrey, emissary of the Kingdom of Aelinthor and representative of its might and divine right!" His voice carried an air of absolute authority, tinged with a sneering condescension that set Volk''s teeth on edge. "You stand upon land that does not belong to you," Sir Reginald continued, his tone dripping with disdain as his piercing gaze swept over the ranks of Orcs and Ogres. "You foul creatures have trespassed upon the sacred territory of our realm, and for this act of insolence, you will answer with your lives¡ªunless..." He paused dramatically, his lips curling into a smirk that Volk found almost comically arrogant. "...you surrender immediately." The Orcs behind Volk bristled, growling low in their throats. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The Ogres tightened their grips on their weapons, their massive forms shifting restlessly. But Volk raised a hand, silencing them with a single gesture. He wanted to hear this human out. "Your crimes are numerous!" Sir Reginald declared, pointing an accusing finger at Volk as though he were lecturing a disobedient child. "You have dared to rise from the filth of your hovels, dared to breathe the same air as men of honor, and dared to dream above your station! Your very existence is an insult to all that is good and pure in this world!" His voice rose with righteous indignation, his words laced with venom. "You vermin have slaughtered Baron Geisler, a noble protector of this land, and for this heinous act, the kingdom demands recompense!" Volk''s grin widened, his fangs glinting as he leaned slightly forward. This man is either incredibly brave or completely mad. Reginald continued, oblivious to the growing tension among the Orcs and Ogres. "Therefore, by the decree of King Aldemar III and the divine will of the gods, you are hereby ordered to lay down your arms, bow before the might of the kingdom, and submit yourselves to our mercy." He spat the last word as if it pained him to offer even that much. "Failure to comply will result in your complete and utter annihilation." He shifted in his saddle, his smirk deepening. "And for your crimes, your leader¡ª" his gaze settled squarely on Volk, "¡ªthis abomination who dares to call himself a Warchief, will be executed publicly as a warning to all other beasts who dare to challenge human supremacy." The Orcs erupted in furious growls and snarls, their hands clenching their weapons tightly. The Ogres stomped their feet, the ground trembling beneath their massive weight. But Sir Reginald was not finished. "Furthermore," he added, his voice rising above the commotion, "all female Orcs and beasts will be taken into custody to ensure they no longer propagate their vile spawn. Your males will be culled, and any survivors will be enslaved to atone for their sins!" He laughed coldly, his eyes gleaming with malice. "That is, if any of you survive the might of Aelinthor''s army. Which I highly doubt." The sheer audacity of the man left even the Ogres momentarily stunned. One of the female Orcs, standing near the front, let out a guttural snarl, her hand twitching toward her weapon, but Volk raised his hand again, commanding silence. His grin had transformed into a full, toothy smile, his crimson eyes glinting with a dangerous light. Sir Reginald leaned forward slightly, as if daring Volk to challenge his words. "Well? What say you, beast? Do you have the sense to surrender, or shall we proceed to grind your pathetic horde into the dirt where it belongs?" The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Then Volk, still smiling, threw his head back and let out a booming, guttural laugh that echoed across the battlefield like thunder. The sound was so sudden, so unexpected, that even the confident Sir Reginald faltered, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second. The Orcs and Ogres behind Volk erupted into laughter as well, their voices mingling into a cacophony of deep, mocking bellows that drowned out the human emissary''s indignant spluttering. Volk lowered his head, his laughter subsiding into a wicked chuckle as he met Sir Reginald''s gaze. "You humans," he said, his voice low and filled with dark amusement, "never fail to entertain me." Sir Reginald''s eyes narrowed at Volk''s laughter, his face darkening as the echoing mockery from the Orcs and Ogres rolled across the field. He pulled his horse to a sharp halt, his grip on the reins tightening as his jaw clenched. Then, with an exaggerated sniff of disdain, he raised his gauntleted hand to silence the humans behind him. "You dare laugh?" he said, his voice dripping with incredulity and rage. He turned his horse in a tight circle, making a show of his composure as though to reassert his authority. "You dare mock me? You dare mock the Kingdom of Aelinthor? You dare mock civilization itself?" His voice rose with each question, until it was practically a roar. The human soldiers behind him stood straighter, feeding off his anger as they pounded their shields in rhythmic unison. Sir Reginald pointed an accusatory finger at Volk, his tone turning colder, sharper. "Do you not understand your position, you grotesque abomination? You and your filthy horde of brutes and savages stand at the mercy of the most powerful kingdom this world has ever known. "You stand against the finest warriors, the most skilled mages, and the divine favor of the gods themselves! Do you truly believe that your pitiful, crude weapons and primitive tactics can stand against the might of Aelinthor?" He pulled his horse closer, his sneer deepening as he spat the next words like venom. "You are not warriors. You are beasts¡ªmindless animals who happen to walk upright. You are parasites, blights upon this earth, whose very existence offends all that is noble and just! And you have the gall to laugh in the face of your executioners?" The Orcs growled lowly behind Volk, and even the Ogres grunted in irritation, their massive fists tightening on their weapons. But Sir Reginald wasn''t finished. "You do not speak," he snarled, his voice filled with scorn. "You do not mock. You do not breathe without the permission of your betters. You and your kind should be grateful we even offer you the mercy of surrender! "If it were up to me, you''d all be slaughtered like the vermin you are, your corpses burned to ash and scattered to the winds so that no trace of your filth remains." Sir Reginald sat taller in his saddle, his voice dripping with exaggerated righteousness. "But, alas, the king in his infinite mercy believes there is value even in trash. So here you stand, granted the undeserved privilege of choosing whether to live on your knees or die on your feet. "And yet, instead of groveling for forgiveness, you stand there laughing, as though you have even the faintest hope of survival." He leaned forward, his sneer transforming into a twisted smile. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear. You are not negotiating from a position of power. You are insects standing before the boot that will crush you. You are carrion waiting to be feasted upon by crows. "Your fate is sealed, and whether you surrender now or die screaming later, the result will be the same. The Horde of Volk will be nothing more than a forgotten stain on the pages of history." Reginald straightened, his tone becoming mockingly cordial. "But do go ahead and make your little jokes. Laugh while you can, Warchief. It will make your inevitable fall all the more entertaining." He paused, his smirk deepening as he let his final words sink in. "And when you are begging for mercy, remember this moment. Remember the chance you squandered. Remember that you could have spared yourself and your people this fate." With that, Sir Reginald pulled his horse around with a flourish, his polished armor gleaming in the fading light. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, as though Volk and his horde were beneath even his contempt. "Harumpf," he snorted loudly, the sound echoing as he spurred his horse back toward the human lines. Volk watched him go, the smile on his face now a tight, dangerous line. The human soldiers erupted into cheers as their emissary returned, their morale surging as they clanged their swords against their shields in deafening unison. Their war cries grew louder, and the rhythmic pounding of their armor reverberated like a drumbeat of impending war. "HAH-HAH-HAH!" The humans shouted as one. "GLORY TO AELINTHOR! GLORY TO THE KING!" Their voices rose into a cacophony of screams and chants, their confidence swelling like a tidal wave. Volk turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming as he leaned closer to an Orc standing just to his right. His voice was low, barely audible above the human din, but filled with an unmistakable edge. "Here''s what you gotta say," Volk murmured, his lips curling into a small, wicked smile. "Say these, say that..." Chapter 266 - 266: As fast as it begins Volk''s sinister grin quickly disappeared, replaced by a scowl of irritation. Without warning, he kicked the Orc he had whispered to¡ªa sharp, forceful blow that made the Orc stumble forward. The other Orcs exchanged confused glances but said nothing, knowing better than to question their Warchief''s actions. The kicked Orc turned to face Volk, his face a mixture of confusion and betrayal. Volk''s crimson eyes narrowed, and his voice was cold and biting. "No hesitation. Go." Reluctantly, the Orc trudged forward, crossing the battlefield under the watchful eyes of both armies. The humans noticed the lone figure moving toward them, and murmurs rippled through their ranks. "What''s this?" Sir Reginald sneered, leaning forward in his saddle. "A deserter? Or perhaps a pathetic attempt at negotiation?" As the Orc drew closer, Gerhardt, the old magician, narrowed his eyes. His gnarled hand tightened on his staff, the faint shimmer of a protective spell forming around him. "Stay sharp," he barked at the knights nearest him. "This might be a trap." But before the humans could react further, the Orc let out an ear-splitting roar and broke into a full sprint. His powerful legs churned the earth as he lunged straight for Gerhardt. The old magician''s eyes widened in shock. "What¡ª?!" CRACK! The Orc''s massive axe cleaved downward, smashing into the magical barrier Gerhardt had hastily conjured. The force of the blow sent ripples of energy radiating outward, and the ground beneath the magician cracked. The human soldiers froze in stunned disbelief as their supposed emissary attacker tried again, roaring with unrelenting fury. Volk, standing atop the hill, let out a guttural growl. "Stupid," he muttered. "Not what I wanted¡­ but fine." He raised his hand high into the air. "OGRES! ATTACK!" The battlefield shook as the Ogres charged forward, their chains clanking ominously. Each step they took was like a drumbeat of doom, their hulking forms casting massive shadows over the field. They roared in unison, their voices echoing across the plain like thunder. "HRRRAAAARRGGHHH!" Weapons in hand¡ªclubs made from uprooted trees, jagged stone axes, and massive chunks of rock¡ªthey barreled toward the humans, leaving deep craters in the ground with each step. The knights scrambled into formation, their previously confident shouts turning into desperate commands. "Hold the line!" Sir Reginald bellowed, his voice cracking under the strain. "Stand firm!" The human mages began chanting, their hands glowing with arcs of magic, but the Ogres were relentless. They closed the distance with terrifying speed, their bloodshot eyes locked onto the humans like predators sighting prey. The first Ogre reached the human front line, lifting its colossal club high into the air. WHAM! The weapon came crashing down with the force of a meteor, shattering shields and flinging knights like ragdolls. "FOR THE HORDE!" roared another Ogre, hurling a boulder that smashed into the knights'' formation, scattering them like leaves in the wind. Chaos erupted as the Ogres collided with the human army, their sheer strength and ferocity turning the battlefield into a maelstrom of destruction. Stones and weapons flew, blood sprayed, and the deafening sound of metal clashing with flesh and bone filled the air. Volk stood at the crest of the hill, watching the carnage unfold. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, but his mind remained calculating. This was only the beginning. He raised his hand again, signaling the Orcs to hold their position. "Wait," he muttered to himself. "Let them break before we make our move." Below, the Ogres roared with renewed vigor as they continued their onslaught, slamming their weapons into the human ranks. Their monstrous voices drowned out the screams of the humans, and their massive forms loomed like giants in a nightmare. The battle had begun. Volk''s voice cut through the cacophony of battle like a blade. "Shamans! Release the smoke! Do not attack¡ªspread and surround them! Let the Ogres keep their attention!" His tone was sharp and commanding, with no room for hesitation. The Orc shamans, scattered among the horde, exchanged glances and quickly nodded. Each one began chanting in guttural tones, their voices resonating with ancient power. Their staves, crudely fashioned but brimming with primal energy, began to glow with faint green and black hues. Smoke began to seep from the tips, wisps at first, barely noticeable against the chaos. The human army hardly paid it any mind at first. The Ogres were their primary focus¡ªhulking, roaring monstrosities that were tearing through their ranks. Soldiers were frantically trying to regroup, screaming orders and cries for help as the giant beasts swung their massive weapons. But the smoke didn''t stop. It grew thicker, curling and weaving around the battlefield like a living entity. At first, it hugged the ground, tendrils creeping around the feet of the human soldiers. The acrid smell of burning vegetation filled the air, making some of the knights cough and wave their hands in irritation. "Stay in formation!" Sir Reginald bellowed, his voice cracking with urgency. "It''s just smoke¡ªdo not let it shake you!" The shamans continued their chants, louder and more insistent. Their voices intertwined, creating a low, ominous hum that reverberated across the battlefield. The smoke thickened, turning into a dark, rolling fog that obscured vision. Within moments, the battlefield was cloaked in an impenetrable haze. Human soldiers began stumbling over one another, their movements disoriented as the once-clear sightlines were completely cut off. "What is this sorcery?!" Gerhardt shouted, gripping his staff tightly. His magical lizard hissed in agitation, its clawed feet scraping against the ground. The old mage muttered a spell, and a faint light surrounded him, but even that could only pierce a few feet into the growing smog. The smoke seemed alive. It clung to the humans, seeping into their lungs and burning their eyes. Soldiers coughed violently, some dropping their weapons to clutch their throats. The sound of their choking mixed with the distant roars of the Ogres, creating a symphony of dread. The Ogres, unaffected by the smoke, continued their assault. Their towering forms loomed like shadows in the fog, their roars and the deafening crash of their weapons the only constants in the chaos. But even they began to slow, realizing they were no longer the center of attention. The humans were scattering, their tight formations breaking apart as the fog clouded their discipline and their courage. "Knights, regroup!" Sir Reginald''s voice rang out, though it sounded strained, almost panicked. "Follow my voice! We hold our ground¡ª" His command was cut short by the sudden sound of heavy breathing nearby. A human soldier screamed as a massive shadow lunged out of the smoke, an Ogre''s club smashing into the ground where the soldier had been standing moments before. Chaos reigned supreme. Meanwhile, Volk watched from his vantage point. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, the smoke curling around him like a dark crown. He grinned, satisfied with the unfolding chaos. The humans were doing exactly what he expected: panicking. His Ogres were the perfect distraction, drawing attention while his shamans worked their magic. The shamans'' chanting reached a fever pitch. The smoke grew thicker still, becoming a swirling vortex of darkness that blotted out the sun. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Even the magical beasts of the mages began to grow restless, their glowing forms flickering as if the smoke was sapping their strength. "Surround them!" Volk commanded, his voice booming. "Shamans, push the smoke further! Orcs, spread out and encircle them¡ªleave no gaps!" The Orcs obeyed without question. They moved swiftly and silently through the haze, their bulky forms surprisingly agile as they positioned themselves around the human army. Despite their size, they made little noise, their heavy footfalls muffled by the thick smoke. The humans, unaware of the Orcs'' movements, struggled to regroup. "Sir Gerhardt! We need light! We can''t see anything!" one of the mages shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. Gerhardt''s face was pale, sweat dripping from his brow. He muttered incantations under his breath, summoning a bright orb of light that floated above him. It cast a small circle of clarity, revealing the terrified faces of the knights around him. But the light only seemed to anger the smoke, which surged and twisted as if it were alive, pushing back against the magic. Volk''s grin widened. He stepped forward, raising his arms as if to embrace the battlefield. "Fools," he muttered to himself, his voice filled with contempt. He turned to the Orcs closest to him, their green faces barely visible through the haze. "Prepare yourselves. This isn''t a battle; it''s a slaughter. Let them squirm." Then, as the shamans continued their work, Volk raised a hand and clenched it into a fist. "This is it," he said to no one in particular. "This is how I''ll break them." His eyes narrowed, his focus unwavering. He felt a surge of anticipation, a deep hunger for the power that awaited him. The notification of his mission rewards echoed in his mind. "I will make this quick," Volk muttered, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I need my full power back." Chapter 267 - 267: Small War Volk stood amidst the swirling, living smoke, his crimson eyes gleaming like embers in the night. His towering form loomed over his warriors, a beacon of ruthless command and unrelenting confidence. The battlefield was an evolving storm of chaos¡ªan orchestra of clashes, cries, and the deep rumble of the Ogres'' guttural roars. The humans, disoriented and struggling to regroup, were fighting blind. It was the perfect moment to strike a decisive blow. Volk raised his voice, cutting through the din like a war drum. "Ogres! Front and center!" he roared, his voice a rumbling thunder that made the ground seem to quake. The Ogres, their massive forms shrouded in the impenetrable smoke, paused their rampage for a moment and turned toward him. Their glowing eyes pierced the fog, burning with primal ferocity. "You will focus on the magic users!" Volk commanded, pacing before them like a lion before its pride. "See those glowing figures on their beasts? Those are your targets. They wield the power that could turn this battle. If you let them live, they will bring ruin upon us all! "Rip them apart! Crush their bones! Smash their beasts into the dirt! Let them know the terror of facing the might of true warriors!" The Ogres snarled in response, their deep growls vibrating through the air. They tightened their grips on their weapons¡ªmassive clubs, crude axes, and jagged stone hammers, each one capable of obliterating anything in its path. The chains around their wrists and necks clinked ominously, adding to their fearsome presence. "But Warchief," one of the Ogres rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "They ride strange beasts. They glow with magic. How do we fight that?" Volk''s gaze snapped to the questioning Ogre, and he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. "How do you fight that?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "You are the fight! Your strength is unmatched! Your resilience is legendary! These so-called mages are nothing but cowards hiding behind their spells! Their glowing beasts? They''re just animals! You''re Ogres! You were born to crush! To conquer! To dominate!" The questioning Ogre hesitated, but then straightened, a new determination hardening his features. The other Ogres began to growl in agreement, their confidence swelling like a rising tide. Volk raised his arm and pointed toward the humans. "Do not hesitate! Do not stop until they are reduced to nothing but blood and ash! Let the Warlocks'' descendants know the wrath of the bloodline they tried to destroy!" The Ogres howled, their voices deep and guttural, echoing across the battlefield. Their massive feet began to stomp in unison, a terrifying rhythm that resonated through the earth. The smoke swirled around them, almost as if it were feeding off their fury. "And you, Orcs!" Volk barked, turning to his smaller yet equally ferocious warriors. "Do not get in their way! Stay in formation! Surround the humans! Cut off their retreat! Let the Ogres do what they do best! But if any of those mages try to escape, you are to intercept them and make sure they regret the attempt!" The Orcs roared in response, their voices filled with bloodlust. They tightened their grips on their weapons, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of battle. Volk turned back to the Ogres, his voice rising to a crescendo. "Remember your strength! Remember your ancestors! Show these humans what happens when they dare to stand against the Horde! Go now! Wipe them out!" The Ogres needed no further encouragement. They charged forward, their massive forms shaking the ground with each step. The smoke parted around them as if bowing to their might, revealing the glowing figures of the mages and their beasts. The humans'' line of defense faltered as the Ogres barreled toward them. The sight was enough to send a ripple of panic through the ranks. "Hold the line!" Sir Reginald shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "Defend the mages!" But it was too late. The Ogres reached the mages with terrifying speed, their massive weapons swinging through the air with devastating force. The crystalline stag of one mage shattered under a crushing blow, sending shards of glowing blue crystal flying in all directions. The mage screamed as he was flung from his mount, his body hitting the ground with a sickening crunch. Another Ogre lunged at the mage atop the serpentine beast. The mage tried to cast a defensive spell, but the Ogre''s sheer speed and power overwhelmed him. The serpent was slammed into the ground, its ethereal form flickering before dissipating entirely. The remaining mages scrambled to regroup, their spells lighting up the smoke-filled battlefield in flashes of brilliant color. But the Ogres were relentless, their brute strength and unyielding determination cutting through the humans'' defenses like a scythe through wheat. Volk watched from his position, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. He turned to the Orc shamans. "Keep the smoke thick! Blind them! Make them choke on it!" The shamans obeyed, their chants growing louder. The smoke thickened further, turning the battlefield into a swirling vortex of darkness. Volk''s gaze shifted back to the chaos. His plan was unfolding perfectly, and he could feel the promise of victory pulsing in his veins. "They are still strong," he muttered to himself, his voice low and dangerous. "I needed to weaken your magicians and yes their magicians only so they won''t sense what I would do next." S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk stood at the heart of the battlefield, his piercing red eyes darting across the chaos like a predator surveying its prey. His hulking frame towered over the smoke and flames that engulfed the combat zone. Each shout he bellowed carried authority, rage, and unrelenting command. "Orcs! Form up! Keep the humans pinned!" he roared, his voice booming over the cacophony of war. "Do not let a single one escape! If they turn their backs, run them down like the dogs they are!" The Orcs roared in acknowledgment, their ferocity redoubling as they tightened their ranks. Their shields clanged together, forming an impenetrable wall as they surged forward, forcing the human soldiers further into disarray. Volk turned his attention to the shamans. "Keep that smoke rolling! Blind them! Suffocate them! Make their mages choke on their own spells!" The shamans intensified their incantations, the air thickening further with acrid smoke that twisted and coiled like living shadows. Human soldiers coughed and sputtered, their vision obscured as they swung their weapons wildly, hoping to hit something¡ªanything. "Archers!" Volk barked, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Pick off their stragglers! Focus on the ones trying to regroup! Make them pay for every step they take!" The Orc archers unleashed a hail of arrows, their sharp tips whistling through the air before finding their marks. Screams of pain erupted from the human lines as soldiers fell, clutching at arrows buried deep in their flesh. Volk''s eyes snapped to the Ogres, who were locked in brutal combat with the mages and their monstrous mounts. "Ogres! Stop playing with your food!" he snarled. "Finish them! Smash their beasts! Shatter their bones! I want their screams to echo through the heavens!" The Ogres roared in response, their massive weapons swinging with renewed ferocity. One Ogre grabbed the crystalline stag of a mage and crushed its glowing antlers in his fist before slamming the beast into the ground. Another Ogre hurled a boulder at the mage on the horned feline, the impact sending both beast and master sprawling. Volk''s orders came rapid-fire, each one calculated to exploit the humans'' weaknesses. "Frontline warriors! Press forward! Do not give them room to breathe! Shamans, keep the rear covered! If any mage dares to flee, bring them down with your curses! Orc spearmen, cut through their formations like the tusks of a boar!" The battlefield obeyed Volk''s commands like an extension of his will. The Orcs and Ogres moved with precision and brutality, their combined efforts overwhelming the human forces. "Look at them!" Volk shouted, his voice dripping with disdain. "Pathetic! Weak! They came here thinking they could match us, but all they''ll find is death!" Despite the humans'' attempts to rally, Volk''s relentless aggression left them no room for recovery. Even the intimidating figures of the mages began to falter under the unrelenting assault. One of the human mages, desperate to turn the tide, attempted a massive spell, his hands glowing with arcane energy. But before he could finish, an Ogre slammed into him, his weapon crushing the mage''s staff and sending shards of glowing wood flying. Volk sneered, his lips curling into a feral grin. "Is this the best they have to offer?" he growled. "Warriors! Show them what it means to face a true horde!" He scanned the battlefield, his mind working furiously to maintain control over every aspect of the fight. "Left flank! Push harder! They''re weakest there! Center ranks, hold your ground! Right flank, cut them off! Encircle them! Do not let them escape!" The humans'' cries of desperation grew louder as Volk''s forces tightened their grip. The mages, once seen as an impenetrable wall of power, were now occupied and scattered, their beasts either slain or gravely wounded. Volk''s blood boiled with excitement as the tide of battle shifted entirely in his favor. His chest heaved with adrenaline, and the scars lining his muscular frame glistened with sweat and blood. Suddenly, Volk paused, his gaze snapping to the nearest shaman. "Prepare the next wave!" he commanded. "We will finish this in one fell swoop! Leave nothing behind! Not a soldier, not a beast, not even a whisper of their existence!" As the shamans chanted and the Orcs pressed forward, Volk''s massive, muscular body began to shift. His veins bulged unnaturally, glowing faintly with an eerie green light. His flesh rippled as though something immense was stirring within him. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms, and a low, guttural growl escaped his lips. "I will make this quick," he muttered to himself, his voice heavy with anticipation. "It''s time to reclaim my full power." Chapter 268 - 268: Gerhardt Old man Gerhardt sat atop his massive lizard mount, his weathered face etched with lines of age and experience. His sharp eyes darted across the battlefield, trying to make sense of the chaos unfolding before him. The acrid smoke from the Orc shamans hung in the air, obscuring the view of his forces and stifling the sharp coordination the humans relied on. He clenched his staff tightly, the enchanted wood glowing faintly as his thoughts raced. He mumbled to himself, his voice low and gravelly, "So, this is what they were hiding... perhaps this is why Baron Geisler fell. Not because of his incompetence, not because of his overconfidence, but because these wretched beasts have numbers far beyond expectation. Orcs in the hundreds, if not thousands... And those Ogres..." His gaze flickered to the monstrous figures in the distance, their shackled limbs swinging massive weapons with unnatural ease. "The Ogres..." he murmured again, almost in disbelief. "Slaves, but not mindless. Look at them¡ªmagic resistant, brutal in strength, and yet they obey like trained hounds. How did they manage to subjugate such creatures? Orcs... Orcs shouldn''t have the capability to wield such discipline. They shouldn''t..." His thoughts faltered for a moment as he tried to reconcile the image of the feral, chaotic brutes he had fought in the past with the organized, terrifying force before him. But then he straightened, shaking his head and exhaling sharply. "No matter," he growled under his breath. "We have magic on our side. Five second-class middle-stage magicians stand at my back, each one powerful in their domain. They are young, yes, but their potential is vast. And I... "I am a third-class magician. I have fought wars before; I have crushed greater forces than this rabble. These Orcs are numerous, yes, and those Ogres will be troublesome... but they are not invincible. They will fall, just like the others." His mind worked furiously as he mumbled a plan, speaking softly to himself but with growing confidence. "First, we focus on the Orcs. Their numbers are their strength, but also their weakness. Divide and conquer. We break their formation, scatter them like leaves in the wind. "The smoke is an obstacle, but it works both ways. They can''t see us either. We''ll use it to our advantage." He pointed his staff slightly, tracing invisible lines in the air as he imagined the battlefield unfolding. "The mages will cast wide-area spells to disrupt their ranks. Fire to scorch their frontlines, ice to hinder their movement, lightning to break their morale. "We''ll target their leaders, the ones giving orders. Without leadership, their so-called discipline will crumble, and they will revert to the mindless beasts they truly are." His lips curled into a small, confident smirk. "Once the Orcs are in disarray, we deal with the Ogres. They are powerful, yes, and resistant to magic, but they are slow. Lumbering beasts. "If we can incapacitate them¡ªbind their limbs, immobilize them with earth magic¡ªthey will be vulnerable. A single focused strike, a blade enchanted with piercing runes, or perhaps a well-placed explosion spell... that will bring them down." He nodded to himself, his confidence growing with every word. "Yes, it''s a simple plan. We overwhelm them with our superior firepower, and we don''t give them time to retaliate. "They may have numbers, but numbers mean little in the face of true power. We have strategy, coordination, and the blessings of the gods on our side." Suddenly, the faint roar of a command rang out from the enemy''s lines. Gerhardt''s attention snapped to the Orc leader, his eyes narrowing as he saw the massive, muscular figure directing the horde with terrifying precision. "What...?" Gerhardt muttered, his confidence flickering for the first time. "He commands them with... intelligence? No... that cannot be right." He strained to hear the words, but the smoke and noise swallowed most of them. Still, the results were clear. The Orcs began to shift and move with alarming efficiency. "They''re spreading out... surrounding us," Gerhardt realized, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That smoke, it wasn''t just a defensive tactic. It''s a distraction, a cover for them to encircle us!" His jaw clenched, and he felt a rare flicker of fear. "This... This is not the Orc horde of old. This is something different. Something... more." He gritted his teeth and slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, the impact sending a faint ripple of magical energy through the air. "Plan B," he growled to the mages behind him. "We knew this might happen. Prepare the defensive formations! If they think they can surround us, we''ll make them regret it. Let them close in. When they''re within range, we''ll unleash hell upon them. Fire, ice, lightning¡ªeverything. They won''t know what hit them." He turned back to the battlefield, his eyes burning with determination. "This will be an easy fight," he said, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. As if to mock him, the Orc leader''s voice roared out again, cutting through the chaos like a war drum. Gerhardt''s gut churned as he realized that every move the humans made, every adjustment they attempted, seemed to be anticipated and countered by the Orc leader. "Who is he?" Gerhardt muttered under his breath, gripping his staff tighter. "No Orc should be capable of this..." The battlefield was shrouded in an impenetrable haze as the Orc shamans relentlessly conjured thick, curling plumes of smoke. It rolled across the terrain like an unrelenting tide, blotting out the sun and reducing visibility to mere inches. The human soldiers, already uneasy from the strange and disciplined movements of the Orcs and the terrifying presence of the Ogres, began to falter in their resolve. Mutters and coughs spread through their ranks as the choking fog wormed its way into their lungs and obscured their sight. Gerhardt, seated atop his magical lizard, waved his hand irritably in front of his face, his patience wearing thin. "Damn this infernal smoke!" he snarled, his aged voice cutting through the murmurs of confusion among the human army. He glanced at the five mages flanking him, their own magical beasts shifting uneasily beneath them. "Enough of this!" he barked. "This is a trivial nuisance! Clear it at once! Do you intend to let this rabble blind us?" The five mages exchanged tense glances before nodding in unison. Each began weaving intricate patterns into the air with their hands, their chants blending into a low, rhythmic hum that resonated through the battlefield. The air around them shimmered as their spells took shape, each mage commanding a different element. "Ventus Gale!" cried the mage atop the crystalline stag, her voice carrying the weight of authority as she summoned a roaring wind. It swept forward, slicing through the smoke like a blade, but as soon as it carved a path, the smoke seemed to surge back, thicker and more malevolent. "Fulgur Lance!" shouted another mage, his voice trembling slightly as he hurled a bolt of lightning into the murk. The crackling energy illuminated the darkness for a fleeting moment, revealing only swirling shadows and shifting forms before the smoke swallowed the light whole. "Pyra Nova!" bellowed the mage astride the molten wyvern. A blazing sphere of fire erupted from his outstretched hand, hurtling into the smoke. The explosion should have cleared a large area, but instead, it seemed to ignite the haze itself, causing it to glow a sinister red before settling back into its oppressive grayness. The old mage on the air-swimming serpent hissed through clenched teeth as she unleashed a wave of purifying water, hoping to dampen the smoke and make it dissipate. For a moment, it seemed to work, but then the water vaporized into steam, adding to the disorienting chaos. Gerhardt clenched his jaw, his frustration boiling over. "They are toying with us!" he snarled, gripping his staff so tightly his knuckles whitened. His eyes darted to the battlefield, searching for any sign of the enemy. "This isn''t just a smokescreen. They''re focusing their efforts on keeping us blind!" The realization sank into the mages as their spells continued to falter against the persistent smoke. One by one, their chants faltered, their confidence waning. "This isn''t natural smoke," murmured the mage on the black arachnid, her voice low and uneasy. "It''s infused with magic¡ªchaotic, malevolent magic. They''re not just hiding themselves; they''re suffocating our senses." "Then fight through it!" Gerhardt snapped, though his own unease was growing. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He could feel it now¡ªthe deliberate intent behind the smoke, the way it seemed to coil around them, probing and pressing like a living thing. "We are magicians! Masters of the arcane arts! We will not be outwitted by savages and beasts!" Yet, despite his bravado, Gerhardt''s mind was racing. The smoke was unnatural, yes, but it was more than that. It was a strategy¡ªa clever, insidious one. The Orc leader wasn''t just trying to obscure their vision; he was manipulating their focus, making them waste precious energy and resources on clearing the haze while his forces remained hidden. As this realization dawned, the smoke thickened further, now accompanied by faint, eerie sounds¡ªlow growls, distant thuds, the scrape of metal on stone. It was impossible to tell where the noises were coming from, adding another layer of confusion and dread to the already tense human army. Gerhardt''s lizard mount shifted uneasily beneath him, its glowing eyes darting into the fog. The old mage tightened his grip on the reins and raised his staff high. "Enough!" he roared. "Cease your spells!" The mages halted their efforts, their faces pale and drawn as they looked to Gerhardt for guidance. "Group together!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the rising panic. "Form a defensive circle! Prepare for whatever is coming. This smoke is not the threat; it is a distraction. The real attack will come soon, and we will be ready for it!" The mages and soldiers scrambled to obey, their movements hurried and jittery. Shields were raised, weapons were drawn, and chants for protective wards began to echo through the ranks. The air grew heavy with anticipation, every sound amplified by the oppressive silence that followed. Gerhardt sat still atop his mount, his eyes scanning the smoke as his heartbeat quickened. Something wasn''t right. The air itself seemed to pulse with energy, an ominous, growing pressure that made his skin crawl. And then, he felt it¡ªa surge of magical power so intense it sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes widened in shock as he turned his gaze skyward, where the source of the disturbance seemed to originate. The smoke parted slightly, revealing faint, swirling lights high above, their colors shifting and flickering with raw, untamed energy. "Oh no..." Gerhardt whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and dread. His grip on his staff tightened as he felt the sheer magnitude of the magical fluctuation descending upon them. "What is that?" Chapter 269 - 269: Here I go! High above the battlefield, Volk floated, suspended in the endless expanse of the blue sky. His massive, grotesque form¡ªa blend of raw muscle and unnatural energy¡ªseemed to consume the space around him. His radioactive Ogre-like body radiated an eerie green hue, casting a faint glow on the clouds that drifted lazily around him. The air sizzled faintly with his presence, a reminder of the raw, devastating power he now held. His elongated limbs, each rippling with grotesque strength, stretched outward, and his enormous, twisted frame looked almost serene against the tranquil backdrop of the heavens. Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance, his thoughts racing. The system''s punishment after fighting the undead monarch still echoed in his mind, an ever-present reminder of his limitations. "The radioactive state is restricted until specific conditions are met..." Volk clenched his massive fists, his nails digging into his palms as his frustration surged. When the punishment had first been imposed, he''d believed it would take an eternity to regain the full extent of his abilities. A slow, painstaking process of rebuilding his strength, perhaps over years, or even decades. Yet now... He grinned savagely, the thought forming a plan as sharp as the clouds slicing across his field of vision. Every human death seemed to chip away at the system''s restrictions. Every fallen body brought him closer to liberation. "Kill humans... regain power..." What if he didn''t stop there? What if he eradicated not just the humans on this battlefield, but every last one in the Orzaroth realm? The idea burned in his mind like an ember catching fire. His grin widened, exposing jagged teeth as he considered the implications. "If there are no humans in this world," he mused aloud, his voice deep and resonant, carrying an almost divine timbre in the open sky, "then does that mean my power won''t come back?" He entertained the thought further. What if he became a force of extinction, an entity that wiped clean the stain of humanity from the Orzaroth realm entirely? The system had imposed rules, yes, but rules were meant to be broken¡ªtwisted to his advantage. He tilted his head, pondering with a kind of brutal curiosity. If there were no humans, would the system itself collapse? Would he transcend its boundaries? Become something more than what even it could comprehend? Or perhaps... perhaps there was something even greater at stake. Volk''s glowing eyes shifted toward the infinite blue above him, his massive chest expanding as he inhaled deeply. What if this punishment wasn''t about humanity? What if this realm¡ªthis entire lower plane¡ªwas a test, and his ascension was inevitable? What if his mission wasn''t merely to regain his power but to prove himself worthy of a higher existence? "Destroy them all," he murmured to himself, the words vibrating through his radioactive form. His thoughts took darker turns. Could he reshape Orzaroth itself? Rule it with his horde? Turn this lower plane into a kingdom of ash and bone, free of humanity and brimming with his loyal Orcs and Ogres? He could almost hear the laughter of the system in the back of his mind, mocking him for his ambitions, but Volk ignored it. He would twist its game. A savage glint entered his eyes as his gaze shifted downward, piercing through the haze of smoke that blanketed the battlefield. Below, the battlefield churned with chaos. The humans were scrambling, their mages exhausting themselves to dispel the persistent fog. His shamans had done their work well. Neither the humans nor the Orcs could see him now, hidden as he was within the sky and the smoke. "This," Volk rumbled, his voice carrying an ominous weight, "this is my plan. A smokescreen for their doom." He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The humans would not see him coming. Neither would his own forces, sparing them the fear of witnessing his radioactive form. It was better this way. His horde would continue their relentless attack, ignorant of the monster looming above, ready to unleash annihilation upon their enemies. Volk flexed his immense limbs, his form pulsating with the greenish glow of radioactive energy. The system''s grip on him was weakening with every human that fell. Soon, he would be free. Free to crush, to destroy, to ascend. "This is how it ends," he growled, his grin widening into a maniacal smile. "No one survives. No one lives to speak of this day." With a final glance at the sky¡ªa silent promise to himself that this would not be the last time he gazed down from such heights¡ªVolk shifted his focus back to the battlefield. He crouched midair, his bulging muscles coiling with potential energy, and spread his massive arms wide, his radioactive glow intensifying. "I''ll make this quick," Volk declared to the empty sky, his voice brimming with anticipation. "And then, I''ll take it all back." With a deafening roar that split the heavens, Volk slashed through the air with his enormous claws, sending a ripple of power cascading around him. His radioactive aura crackled and hissed as he descended rapidly, slicing through the smoke with an unrelenting force. The clouds seemed to part for him, as though bowing before his might. The battlefield grew closer, the chaotic sounds of war swelling in his ears. As Volk hurtled toward the ground, his grin turned feral. As Volk descended through the air, his massive form cutting through the haze of smoke like a god of destruction, his right hand began to tighten into a fist. It was a simple motion, but it radiated an unimaginable sense of menace. His muscles bulged grotesquely, veins glowing with a sickly green light as radioactive energy began to converge in his palm. The energy came slowly at first, swirling lazily around his hand in wisps of glowing green mist, but it rapidly became more aggressive. Crackling tendrils of power lashed outward, colliding with the surrounding air and creating a high-pitched zzzzzt! that echoed ominously. The air itself seemed to ripple and distort as the power intensified, and the convergence of radioactive magic within his grasp began to form a concentrated orb. It pulsed rhythmically, like a second heart, beating louder and stronger with each passing moment. THUMP. The orb grew denser. THUMP. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The glow became blinding, turning the green mist into a searing, neon beacon. The sound of the battlefield below¡ªwar cries, clashing weapons, screams of pain¡ªseemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the sheer presence of the growing energy in Volk''s hand. His clenched fist was now at the center of a swirling maelstrom of radioactive magic, and every fiber of his being poured into feeding its hunger. As his descent slowed, Volk''s hand trembled, not with weakness, but with the overwhelming intensity of the force he held. The orb of power in his grasp expanded and contracted erratically, its surface roiling with unstable energy, as if threatening to explode prematurely. The smoke screen below thinned slightly, revealing glimpses of the battlefield, but even the hardened warriors and mages on both sides faltered. All eyes were drawn upward to the figure of Volk, his radioactive form glowing brighter and brighter against the backdrop of the sky. The orb was no longer just energy¡ªit was pressure. An oppressive force that seemed to crush the very air around it. It was as if Volk had captured a fragment of the sun itself, condensed it, and then demanded it obey his will. The ground beneath him began to tremble, the vibrations radiating outward in ever-widening circles. Volk''s lips curled into a cruel grin as he growled through clenched teeth: "Nuclear..." His voice was deep and resonant, carrying with it a weight that seemed to anchor the battlefield itself. The word hung in the air, heavy and ominous, sending chills down the spines of everyone who heard it. The radioactive energy in his fist flared violently, the orb growing impossibly bright and then dimming in an erratic rhythm. It screamed with raw, unrelenting power, vibrating at a frequency that seemed to resonate within the very bones of those who dared to watch. As he drew closer to the ground, his descent slowed further, each second stretching into an eternity. The closer he got, the tighter his fist became, and the orb of energy responded by compressing further, its surface now smooth, glowing, and impossibly dense. The pulsing light in his hand turned sharper, the glow no longer just green but tinged with hues of gold and crimson. The battlefield below seemed to hold its breath. Even the mages, distracted by their own struggle to clear the smoke, faltered as they felt the raw magical fluctuations rippling through the air. Volk''s grin widened, and his voice boomed again, louder this time, reverberating across the battlefield. "ECHOOOOO!" The word was a promise, a declaration of the devastation to come. The orb in his hand pulsed in sync with the final syllable, its energy swelling to the brink of containment. The ground beneath him began to crack, spiderweb fractures forming even before he landed. Each tremor grew more violent, sending shockwaves across the battlefield as if the earth itself was trembling in anticipation of what was about to come. As Volk approached mere feet from the ground, the intensity of the energy in his fist reached its peak. The greenish glow was now an unbearable radiance, casting everything in a sickly light and burning itself into the eyes of those who dared to look. The orb seemed alive, writhing and snarling like a caged beast desperate to be unleashed. Volk opened his mouth, his voice rising to a deafening crescendo, shaking the very air around him. "BOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!" And with that final roar, Volk''s fist slammed into the earth. Chapter 270 - 270: Massacre The battlefield was alive with chaos as Gerhardt stood surrounded by his comrades, their collective breath catching in their throats. The old mage''s hands trembled, gripping the reins of his magical lizard as a deep, ominous rumble echoed through the smoke. At first, it was faint, barely noticeable above the din of battle, but it grew louder, deeper, more insistent with each passing moment. "What... what is that?" one of the mages whispered, their voice barely audible over the low-frequency hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Gerhardt didn''t answer immediately. His sharp, weathered eyes scanned the horizon, his magical senses tuned to the eerie fluctuations in the air. His heart pounded as the pressure built, heavy and oppressive. It wasn''t just sound¡ªit was weight, like a mountain pressing down on their chests. The other mages began to notice it too. One clutched at their chest, gasping, while another muttered incantations under their breath, trying to create a protective barrier around themselves. "I feel it," said one, their voice cracking with fear. "It''s... it''s magic, but not like anything I''ve ever felt before. It''s... wrong." Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Silence!" Gerhardt barked, his authoritative tone cutting through the growing panic. His own heart raced, but he wouldn''t let the others see his fear. "Focus your minds. This is nothing but a distraction. Hold formation!" But even as he spoke, the rumbling intensified. The very ground beneath their feet seemed to shudder, and the air around them grew thick, almost suffocating. One mage fell to their knees, clutching their head. "I can''t think¡ªit''s too much! What is this?!" "Stand up!" Gerhardt barked again, his voice a mix of fury and desperation. He turned to the others. "Concentrate your power! We must dispel this¡ªwhatever it is!" The rumble deepened, transitioning into a low, pulsing vibration that they could feel in their bones. The mages exchanged panicked glances, their once-confident expressions now filled with dread. "It''s not stopping," another mage murmured, their hands trembling as they tried to summon a spell. "It''s¡ªgods, it''s getting stronger!" The wind began to pick up, swirling around them in unpredictable patterns. Loose dirt and debris were whipped into the air, creating a chaotic vortex that stung their eyes and obscured their vision. "Gerhardt, this isn''t normal!" one of the younger mages shouted, their voice breaking. "This... this is something else!" The old mage didn''t respond immediately. His mind raced, piecing together every bit of information he had. Could this be the Orc leader''s doing? No, impossible. No single being could produce this much magical pressure¡­ could they? Plus, the leader was clear just in the middle stage mana magical beasts. He was higher than that by five stages. Soon, the vibrations intensified further, now accompanied by a deep, resonating hum that made their ears ring. Gerhardt''s magical lizard shifted nervously beneath him, its claws scraping the ground as it let out a low growl of unease. Suddenly, the shockwave hit. It wasn''t a physical force but an auditory one¡ªa deafening BOOM that seemed to come from the heavens themselves. The mages reeled back, clutching their heads as the sound wave blasted through them. The ground quaked violently, cracks spider webbing through the earth as a gale-force wind tore through the battlefield. The mages screamed, some shielding their faces with their arms while others stumbled and fell to the ground. And then... nothing. The rumbling stopped. The vibrations ceased. The suffocating pressure in the air lifted, and the battlefield fell eerily silent. For a moment, no one moved. The mages exchanged wide-eyed looks, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Gerhardt sat frozen atop his lizard, his brow furrowed in confusion. "¡­That''s it?" one of the mages finally said, their voice tinged with disbelief. Another let out a shaky laugh, standing up and brushing the dirt off their robes. "Was... was that all? That terrifying buildup... and nothing happened?" A wave of nervous chuckles rippled through the group. "Maybe it was some kind of bluff," one suggested, trying to mask their relief with bravado. "Or maybe they failed," another sneered, emboldened by the apparent anticlimax. "All that noise, all that pressure, and nothing to show for it? Pathetic." One of the younger mages collapsed to the ground, laughing hysterically. "I thought we were going to die!" they gasped between bouts of laughter. "All that panic for nothing! What a joke!" Gerhardt narrowed his eyes but said nothing. His instincts screamed at him that this wasn''t over. A mage leaned on their staff, sighing heavily. "I''ve never felt anything like that before, and it was all for show. I mean, really, what kind of failure¡­" The laughter grew louder, some mages shaking their heads in mockery, others letting out exaggerated sighs of relief. "I suppose this Orc leader isn''t as clever as he thought," one said smugly, adjusting their robes. "To think we were actually worried about¡ª" A faint tremor beneath their feet interrupted them. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it made Gerhardt''s eyes widen. "Quiet," he snapped, his voice cutting through the mocking laughter. The others fell silent, their amusement fading as they noticed the grim look on Gerhardt''s face. "What is it?" one mage asked nervously. The old man didn''t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the horizon, his magical senses reaching out. He felt it again¡ªthat same oppressive, unnatural magic from earlier. Only this time, it wasn''t just pressure. It was intent. The faint tremor grew stronger, the ground vibrating beneath them in steady pulses. .The sky above seemed to darken slightly, as though something massive was blocking the sun. Gerhardt''s throat went dry. He looked up, his heart sinking as he saw a massive figure descending from the sky, its grotesque, glowing body radiating pure destruction. "Oh no¡­" he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands tightened around his staff, his knuckles white. "Oh gods, no." The battlefield was a cacophony of chaos as the air itself seemed to vibrate with an oppressive, suffocating power. Gerhardt, perched atop his magical lizard, was frozen in place, his aged face twisted in horror. He clenched his staff so tightly his knuckles turned white. His eyes darted around frantically, but no source of the overwhelming power could be seen. And then he felt it. A pulse. A deep, resonant thrum that seemed to originate from everywhere at once. It wasn''t sound¡ªit was force, rippling through the ground and the very air around them. The knights staggered, their armor clinking as they tried to steady themselves, looking to their commanders for guidance. "EARTH MAGIC!" Gerhardt suddenly screamed, his voice carrying over the din like a thunderclap. His shout snapped the mages and knights out of their stunned confusion. "IT''S GROUND MAGIC, OR SOMETHING WORSE! PREPARE YOURSELVES!" One of the younger knights stumbled forward, his face pale. "What''s happening, Lord Mage?" he stammered, his voice quivering. "Where is it coming from? Who''s attacking us?" "I DON''T KNOW!" Gerhardt bellowed, his voice thick with both frustration and terror. His head whipped from side to side, his magical senses reaching out desperately. The pressure was unbearable, like a tidal wave crashing over them. "I¡ªCAN''T¡ªSEE IT! DEFEND YOURSELVES! PREPARE FOR IMPACT!" The knights murmured nervously, their once-proud formation beginning to waver. A few clutched their swords and shields tighter, while others began muttering prayers to their gods. The mages, sensing the imminent threat as keenly as Gerhardt did, sprang into action. They raised their staffs and began to chant in unison, their voices weaving together in an ancient incantation. Magic circles flickered into existence around them, glowing with vibrant hues of blue, green, and gold. "MAGIC BARRIER!" Gerhardt roared, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground. A golden dome of light shimmered into existence, spreading outward to encompass as many knights as possible. The other mages followed suit, their barriers joining together to form a multilayered shield around the human army. But the pressure didn''t stop. It only grew stronger. The earth beneath their feet began to quake violently, fissures snaking across the ground with loud, cracking sounds. The air grew thick with an oppressive energy that made it difficult to breathe. One of the knights fell to his knees, gasping for air. "What is this?!" he cried out, his voice filled with panic. "I can''t... I can''t move!" "It''s coming!" another mage yelled, their face drenched in sweat as they struggled to maintain their barrier. Gerhardt''s heart pounded in his chest as he felt the energy build. It was unlike anything he''d ever experienced¡ªa raw, chaotic force that defied comprehension. And then, realization struck him like a lightning bolt. "N o... no, no, NO!" he screamed, his voice cracking. He turned to the other mages, his face a mask of terror. "RETRACT THE BARRIERS! FOCUS THEM ON YOURSELVES! NOW!" Chapter 271 - 271: Bullet hordes "But what about the knights?!" one of the younger mages protested, their hands shaking as they maintained their spell. "DO IT, OR YOU''LL DIE WITH THEM!" Gerhardt snapped, his voice harsh and unyielding. The mages hesitated for only a fraction of a second before complying. The shimmering barriers that had once protected the knights collapsed inward, condensing around the mages in tight, impenetrable spheres of light. The knights looked up in confusion and betrayal. "Wait¡ªwhat are you doing?!" one of them shouted. "PROTECT YOURSELVES!" Gerhardt barked, his voice trembling. "GET AWAY FROM EACH OTHER! SPREAD OUT!" But it was too late. The oppressive energy reached its zenith, and the first explosion tore through the ranks of the knights with a deafening BOOM. A soldier at the front of the formation was thrown into the air like a ragdoll, his armor shattering into pieces before he hit the ground in a lifeless heap. Then another. And another. One by one, the knights began to explode. The force wasn''t from an external attack¡ªit was internal, as if the pressure building around them had turned their very bodies into bombs. Blood sprayed into the air, mixing with the acrid smoke that now hung over the battlefield. The screams were deafening. A knight near the center of the formation clutched at his chest, his eyes wide with terror. "HELP ME! SOMETHING''S INSIDE ME!" he shrieked before his body burst apart in a grisly explosion. Another soldier tried to run, only to fall to his knees as his legs gave out. He let out a guttural scream before his body erupted into a shower of gore. The explosions came faster now, a horrifying chain reaction that ripped through the ranks of the human army. Limbs and armor were flung through the air like debris in a storm. The once-disciplined formation was reduced to utter chaos, soldiers scrambling in every direction in a futile attempt to escape their fate. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Gerhardt and the mages watched in horror from within their protective barriers. The old man''s face was pale, his hands trembling as he clutched his staff. "This... this isn''t possible," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the carnage. "This kind of power¡ªit''s monstrous..." A younger mage beside him vomited, unable to stomach the gruesome scene unfolding before them. "What kind of magic is this?!" they choked out, tears streaming down their face. "It''s not magic," Gerhardt muttered, his voice hollow. "It''s something far worse." The chain of explosions finally slowed, leaving the battlefield eerily silent. The once-proud human army was reduced to a field of shattered armor, broken weapons, and unrecognizable remains. Gerhardt''s hands shook as he tightened his grip on his staff. He turned his gaze toward the swirling smoke, where he could just make out the faint silhouette of a massive figure descending from the sky. "It''s him," he whispered, his voice trembling. "The Orc leader... This is his doing." The other mages stared in stunned silence, their protective barriers flickering as their concentration faltered. "What... what do we do now?" one of them asked, their voice barely above a whisper. Gerhardt didn''t answer immediately. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "We survive," he said finally, his voice filled with grim determination. "No matter what, we survived!" The battlefield, eerily quiet after the devastating chain of explosions, was now a macabre graveyard. Gerhardt and the mages huddled together, their magical barriers shimmering faintly as they tried to comprehend the monstrous power that had just annihilated the human army. The silence stretched unbearably, broken only by the faint crackling of fires consuming broken banners and splintered wood. But then, a sound¡ªa deep, low whoosh¡ªbegan to echo through the smoky haze. It grew louder, a rushing noise that seemed to slice through the heavy air like a blade. Gerhardt''s heart sank as the sound crescendoed into a deafening roar. Out of the smoke, a figure hurtled toward them with terrifying speed. It was small at first, just a dark blur against the churning gray, but as it drew closer, its shape became clear. An Orc. The creature''s eyes were wild with confusion, its limbs flailing as it flew through the air. Its mouth opened in a terrified roar, its jagged teeth bared. "What¡ª" one of the younger mages started to ask, but the question was cut short as the Orc slammed into their barrier with a thunderous CRASH! The force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the protective dome, and the mages staggered under the strain of maintaining it. The Orc, stunned but alive, let out a guttural growl. Its disorientation lasted only a moment before its gaze snapped to the mages. A feral glint appeared in its eyes as it raised its crude weapon¡ªa jagged axe stained with dried blood¡ªand struck. The barrier flared, sparks flying as the axe bounced off the magical shield. But the impact left a visible crack in the shimmering wall of light. Gerhardt''s eyes widened. "They''re targeting us mid-air!" he shouted. Another sound¡ªwhoosh!¡ªcut through the chaos. "Another one!" a mage cried, pointing toward the smoke. This time, two Orcs hurtled through the air, their faces twisted with confusion and rage. They slammed into the barrier at opposite sides, their weapons striking in unison. The magical dome shuddered violently, its cracks spreading like spiderwebs. The mages strained under the pressure, their chants faltering as their focus wavered. "Hold the barrier!" Gerhardt bellowed, his voice commanding. But even as he spoke, the sound came again¡ªwhoosh, whoosh, whoosh! Three more Orcs, their muscular bodies spinning uncontrollably, were launched toward the group. They crashed into the barrier with explosive force, their combined weight and power causing the shimmering wall to flicker dangerously. "They''re coming too fast!" one of the mages cried out, sweat streaming down their face. Gerhardt clenched his staff, his mind racing. "This isn''t random... this is planned!" he snarled. As if to confirm his suspicions, the sound came again¡ªlouder this time, deeper. The ground itself seemed to tremble as a new shape emerged from the smoke. A massive figure, green and hulking, hurtled through the air like a boulder shot from a catapult. Its sheer size cast a shadow over the mages as it descended upon them. "It''s¡ªan Ogre!" someone screamed. The creature slammed into the ground just in front of the barrier, the impact sending a shockwave that knocked several knights off their feet. The Ogre''s immense bulk towered over the mages, its face a mask of bewilderment that quickly turned to rage. With a deafening roar, it swung a massive club down onto the barrier. The magical shield fractured under the blow, shards of shimmering energy flying outward. The mages staggered, their voices faltering as they struggled to hold the barrier together. Before they could recover, another whoosh sounded, and then another. More Ogres emerged from the smoke, their colossal bodies crashing into the battlefield like falling meteors. Each one landed with earth-shaking force, their roars blending into a symphony of chaos. "This can''t be happening," one of the mages whispered, their voice trembling with fear. And then it did. A final sound¡ªa deep, guttural roar¡ªrumbled through the smoke. The ground quaked violently as a monstrous green figure, even larger than the Ogres, emerged. Its muscles rippled with unearthly strength, and its glowing eyes burned with malevolent intent. The massive figure lunged forward, moving with terrifying speed for something its size. It crashed into the barrier, its immense weight and force shattering the weakened shield completely. The mages were thrown backward, their protective spells collapsing under the assault. Gerhardt hit the ground hard, his staff clattering away from him. Pain shot through his body as he struggled to sit up, his vision blurry. He looked up just in time to see the monstrous figure¡ªa massive, mutated Orc¡ªcharging toward them. With a bone-crushing impact, the creature tackled the nearest mage, the force sending the unfortunate magician flying into a broken wagon. The others barely had time to react before the beast swung its massive arms, striking two more mages and sending them sprawling. Despite their magical shields, the mages groaned in pain, their barriers barely holding against the sheer physical might of the attacker. Blood trickled from the corner of Gerhardt''s mouth a s he watched the monstrous figure rear back for another attack. "This... this can''t be happening," he muttered, his voice weak. But it was. Chapter 272 - 272: Relentless The battlefield had descended into an unrelenting nightmare. The haze of smoke continued to billow around them, thick and choking, obscuring all but the immediate vicinity. Gerhardt and the remaining five mages, the sole survivors of what was once a formidable human force, stood shoulder to shoulder, their magical barriers flickering weakly with each desperate chant. Fear gnawed at their hearts, their minds racing for answers against the onslaught they faced. Then, the sound came again¡ªwhoosh!¡ªsharp, piercing through the dull roar of the battlefield. Another Orc was launched through the murky air, its body spinning like a ragdoll as it hurtled toward the cluster of mages. The creature''s eyes were wide with panic, its arms flailing uselessly. Yet, as it came into focus, its fear gave way to rage, and it raised its crude weapon mid-flight, targeting the nearest mage. "Here it comes again!" one of the mages screamed, their voice breaking in terror. The Orc crashed into the magical barrier with a deafening BOOM!, its jagged axe striking the glowing wall. The impact reverberated through the mages'' defenses, sending shockwaves that forced them to stumble backward. Before they could recover, the sound returned¡ªwhoosh, whoosh!¡ªthis time in rapid succession. Two more Orcs emerged from the smoky veil, their feral snarls filling the air as they careened toward the group. They struck the barrier almost simultaneously, their weapons slamming against the protective dome with bone-jarring force. "Focus! Focus the barrier!" Gerhardt shouted, his voice hoarse from exertion. But even as they poured their remaining strength into the shield, another sound erupted¡ªa guttural roar that grew louder and more menacing with each passing second. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Out of the haze, an Ogre appeared, its massive body hurtling through the air like a boulder fired from a siege engine. The ground trembled as the creature landed just short of the barrier, its weight sending a shockwave through the earth. The beast staggered for a moment, its confusion evident, but then its glowing eyes locked onto the mages. With a roar that shook the battlefield, it charged forward, swinging a tree-trunk-sized club. The barrier flickered dangerously as the club struck, its light dimming under the sheer force of the blow. Gerhardt gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face. "This can''t hold much longer!" a younger mage cried out, their voice laced with panic. Another whoosh cut through the air. This time, four Orcs flew toward them, their bodies twisting unnaturally as they soared. The group barely had time to react before the creatures crashed into the barrier from different angles, their weapons smashing against the weakened shield. Cracks spread across the magical dome like fractured glass. Gerhardt''s eyes darted frantically, searching for a solution. "Hold it together! Just a little longer!" he barked. But the assault didn''t let up. From the smoke came another Ogre, larger and more terrifying than the last. It slammed into the ground with such force that the earth split beneath its feet. Without hesitation, the beast lunged forward, ramming into the barrier with its immense shoulders. The shield shattered. The explosion of magical energy knocked Gerhardt and the mages to the ground, their protective spells disintegrating under the Ogre''s relentless assault. "Regroup!" Gerhardt shouted, scrambling to his feet. But even as he spoke, the sound of another tackle¡ªdeeper, heavier¡ªechoed through the battlefield. The smoke churned violently as a hulking shadow emerged. It was another Ogre, its grotesque frame towering over the remnants of the human force. Its charge was slower, deliberate, but the sheer weight of its movements made the ground quake with every step. "Brace yourselves!" Gerhardt yelled, raising his staff. The Ogre plowed into the group, its massive arms outstretched. The impact sent two mages flying, their bodies colliding with broken wagons and debris. One screamed in agony as their arm bent at an unnatural angle; the other lay motionless, their head slumped to the side. The remaining mages scrambled to their feet, their faces pale with terror. And then it happened again. Out of the smoke came another tackle. This time, it was faster, more brutal, as an Ogre twice the size of the previous one barreled into the group. The beast''s roar drowned out the mages'' cries as it slammed into them with devastating force. Gerhardt was thrown backward, his body skidding across the dirt. His vision blurred as pain wracked his body, but he forced himself to stand, his staff trembling in his grasp. "They''re toying with us," he whispered, horror dawning on his face. The cycle repeated. Orcs were hurled like projectiles, followed by Ogres, their tackles becoming more destructive with each wave. The longer it went on, the more devastating the attacks became. Each tackle was a calculated blow, targeting their dwindling numbers with ruthless precision. The ground was littered with debris and bodies, the air thick with smoke and the stench of blood. Suddenly, a massive shadow loomed over the battlefield. It was another Ogre, larger and more terrifying than anything they''d faced. The beast roared, its deep voice reverberating through the chaos, and then it charged. Gerhardt barely had time to react before the colossal creature tackled him directly, its immense weight crushing his magical shield like paper. Pain exploded through his chest as he was thrown backward, colliding with a jagged rock. Coughing up blood, he looked up at the towering figure, his vision swimming. "This¡­ this can''t be how it ends," he muttered, his voice weak. But the Ogre wasn''t done. It raised its massive fists, ready to deliver the killing blow. The battlefield was an unrelenting storm of chaos, and Gerhardt, along with the five remaining mages, was barely holding on. Their once-pristine robes were scorched and torn, their faces marked with exhaustion and desperation. The relentless assault from the Orcs and Ogres had pushed them to their limits, and yet, something more sinister was beginning to unfold. The Ogre that had been tackling them with devastating force appeared once again. Emerging from the thick smoke, its monstrous frame loomed larger than life. Its skin was dark green, mottled with scars and streaks of glowing veins that pulsed with an eerie light. The beast bellowed, its guttural roar sending shivers through even the most stalwart of the mages. "There it is again!" one of the younger mages cried, their voice trembling. "It''s the same one! That Ogre¡ªit''s not like the others!" Gerhardt''s sharp eyes narrowed as he studied the beast. His mind, despite the turmoil, was sharp enough to piece together the pattern. "That''s it¡­" he muttered under his breath, clutching his staff tightly. "It''s only one! The others¡­ they''re distractions!" The realization spread through the group like wildfire. "They''ve been using the other Ogres to bait us, to keep us occupied," another mage said, his voice edged with both fear and understanding. "Then let''s deal with it!" Gerhardt snapped, his commanding voice cutting through the din. "Prepare yourselves! Channel everything into stopping this one. No more distractions!" The mages nodded, their resolve hardening. Together, they began chanting in unison, weaving a complex spell designed to trap and neutralize the relentless Ogre. Their combined magic formed a glowing net of ethereal chains, shimmering in hues of blue and gold. The air around them crackled with energy as the spell grew in strength. But before they could unleash their counterattack, a sound erupted from the smoke¡ªa deep, resonant voice that carried a chilling power. "Nuclear¡­" The word cut through the chaos like a blade. It was spoken with such authority, such venom, that the mages froze momentarily. "What¡­ what was that?" one mage stammered, his hands trembling. Gerhardt''s eyes darted frantically across the battlefield, searching for the source. The smoke churned violently, obscuring everything beyond a few feet. Then came the second word, louder, more menacing: "Devastation¡­" The voice reverberated across the battlefield, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. The mages'' spells faltered as a sense of dread crept into their hearts. "Stay focused!" Gerhardt barked, though his own voice betrayed his unease. And then, the final word thundered through the battlefield, echoing like the roar of an ancient beast: "SPOOOOOOOOOOORE!!!" Chapter 273 - 273: Lucky The very air seemed to vibrate with the force of the shout, and an instant later, the battlefield erupted into chaos. Out of the swirling smoke, five streams of raw elemental energy shot toward the mages. Each one was different, representing a primal force of nature. A blazing pillar of fire roared forward, its heat searing even through the thick barrier. A torrent of water followed, twisting and writhing like a serpent as it crashed against their defenses. Jagged spikes of earth erupted from the ground, hurtling toward them with lethal precision. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A crackling bolt of lightning arced through the air, its blinding light momentarily illuminating the battlefield. And finally, a swirling vortex of wind howled toward them, its sharp edges cutting through the smoke like knives. The attacks came with terrifying speed and precision, giving the mages no time to react. "Shield!" Gerhardt screamed, his voice breaking under the strain. The mages poured every ounce of their power into reinforcing their barrier. The glowing dome of energy flared brilliantly as it absorbed the onslaught, but it was clear the strain was too much. Cracks began to spread across its surface, each one accompanied by a sickening crack that echoed like a death knell. The fire struck first, its searing heat causing the barrier to waver and dim. The water followed, smashing against the weakened dome and spreading fractures like spiderwebs. The earth spikes shattered through the outer layers, embedding themselves in the magical field with a series of explosive impacts. The lightning struck next, its raw energy coursing through the cracks and sending shockwaves through the mages. And then came the wind. The vortex collided with the barrier, its razor-sharp edges slicing through the remaining defenses with terrifying ease. The barrier exploded outward in a shower of sparks and light, leaving the mages exposed and vulnerable. The force of the destruction knocked the group off their feet. Gerhardt hit the ground hard, his staff clattering away from him. Pain shot through his body as he scrambled to his knees, his vision blurred and his ears ringing. "We''re exposed!" one of the mages cried, their voice filled with terror. Another mage tried to conjure a new shield, but their spell fizzled out, their mana reserves completely drained. Gerhardt''s heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to stand. His eyes darted toward the smoke, and he knew¡ªwhatever had unleashed that attack wasn''t finished. "That Ogre is having fun¡­" he whispered, his voice barely audible. The ground trembled once more, and Gerhardt felt the air grow heavier, thick with an oppressive energy that made it hard to breathe. From the smoke came a shadow, larger than anything they had faced thus far. It moved with purpose, each step shaking the earth, and Gerhardt''s blood ran cold. "No¡­" he muttered, gripping his staff tightly. The battlefield, now a wasteland of smoldering craters and shattered earth, lay heavy under the weight of silence. Smoke still clung to the air, swirling and choking the dim sunlight as if the sky itself mourned the devastation. Among the wreckage, Gerhardt and the five remaining mages struggled to rise. Their bodies were battered, their magical reserves depleted, and their spirits hanging by a thread. They had endured wave after wave of assault, only to now feel the oppressive weight of inevitability closing in on them. Suddenly, the oppressive silence was broken. From the smoke emerged a familiar figure¡ªthe Ogre. Its massive, hulking frame towered over the battlefield, each step it took reverberating like a drumbeat of doom. Its grotesque, battle-scarred body seemed to glow faintly, its veins pulsing with unnatural energy. But it wasn''t just the Ogre''s physical presence that filled the air with dread¡ªit was its expression. It grinned. Not a feral, mindless grin, but something calculated, something terrifyingly human. The Ogre''s voice boomed, low and guttural, dripping with menace. "Lucky¡­" it growled, each syllable drawn out, mocking. Its glowing eyes scanned the broken mages, relishing their suffering. "Three minutes¡­ are¡­ up." The words cut through the mages like a blade. Gerhardt''s head snapped up, his eyes wide with both horror and disbelief. The younger mages shivered uncontrollably, clutching at their staffs like lifelines, their lips trembling as they muttered incoherent prayers. The Ogre didn''t wait for a reply. With a sickeningly casual gait, it turned and walked back into the thick smoke, its hulking silhouette disappearing into the haze. For a brief moment, there was nothing but the sound of the mages'' ragged breathing and the faint crackle of distant fires. And then, BANG! The smoke exploded outward in a violent gust, as if the very air itself had been punched by an unseen force. The sheer intensity of the blast blew back everything¡ªdebris, ashes, and even the battered mages themselves. The winds roared with the fury of a tempest, revealing the battlefield in stark, brutal clarity. In the epicenter of the cleared smoke stood Volk. His figure, no longer obscured, was unmistakable. Gone was the towering radioactive form that had struck fear into their hearts. He was back in his Orc form, his muscular physique gleaming with a sheen of sweat and blood. His glowing red eyes pierced through the battlefield like twin embers of a raging fire. His aura was no less overwhelming, however; it was a condensed storm of power, as if all the devastation he had wrought had coalesced into this singular, terrifying presence. Volk tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. Then, to the shock of everyone, he bowed. It wasn''t a mocking gesture or a half-hearted dip of the head¡ªit was a genuine, respectful bow, his arm crossing over his chest with the precision of a soldier showing reverence to a worthy opponent. "My apologies," Volk said, his voice polite, almost cordial, but underlined with a chilling undertone. "May I ask¡­" He straightened, his gaze locking onto Gerhardt and his surviving comrades. "Can we take your lives now?" The mages stared, dumbstruck. They were too stunned, too exhausted, to respond. Gerhardt opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out¡ªonly a hoarse gasp, as if the weight of the entire situation had crushed his ability to form coherent thoughts. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity. Volk''s crimson eyes glinted with dark amusement as he raised his hand, making a small, almost dismissive signal. At once, the battlefield erupted into chaos. From all directions, Ogres and Orcs surged forward. Their roars echoed like thunderclaps, their footsteps pounding the earth with relentless ferocity. The ground trembled beneath the sheer weight of the charging horde. "No¡­" Gerhardt whispered, his voice cracking. The first wave hit like a battering ram. An Ogre, wielding a massive club fashioned from a broken tree trunk, swung it with bone-crushing force. The mages scrambled to conjure what little barriers they could, but their defenses were like glass against a sledgehammer. Orcs swarmed in, their blades gleaming wickedly in the fractured sunlight, their war cries drowning out the desperate shouts of the mages. Despite their injuries, Gerhardt and the others fought valiantly. Fireballs, ice shards, and lightning bolts flew from their staffs, taking down swathes of the enemy. But for every Orc or Ogre that fell, two more took its place. The sheer numbers, combined with the ferocity of the assault, were overwhelming. Amidst the chaos, Volk stood still, watching the carnage unfold with a detached, almost clinical interest. "They were strong," he mused to himself, his tone soft, almost regretful. "But strength is not enough." As the mages'' screams filled the air, Volk let out a slow, deep breath. His expression softened¡ªnot with pity, but with satisfaction. This, he thought, was the natural order of things. And soon, there would be nothing left to oppose him. Chapter 274 - 274: Fall As Gerhardt stood in the midst of the chaos, his breath ragged and his staff trembling in his hands, memories began to flood his mind like a rushing river. Every swing of an Ogre''s club, every roar of an Orc, every flicker of his faltering mana shield seemed to peel back the layers of his life, exposing the moments he had buried deep within his heart. He remembered his youth, a time when dreams were larger than life, and the world felt boundless. Back then, he was a scrawny boy with a spark of mana barely perceptible, even to himself. The other apprentices at the academy mocked him mercilessly. "Gerhardt the Hollow," they had called him, laughing at his inability to even light a candle with magic. While others soared through their lessons, he floundered, his mana reserves stubbornly refusing to grow. But Gerhardt had never been one to give up. He devoted himself entirely to the study of mana, pouring over ancient tomes until his eyes burned and practicing incantations until his voice gave out. Years turned into decades, and while his peers had long since surpassed him, achieving heights of power he could only dream of, he had finally clawed his way to the first stage of magical mastery. The memory of that moment was still vivid. He had cried that day, tears of triumph and bitterness mixed together. It had taken him half his life to reach a point most mages achieved in their teens. But it wasn''t enough. With a ferocity born of desperation, he pushed himself harder, enduring countless failures, injuries, and setbacks. Slowly, agonizingly, he reached the second stage. By then, his hair had begun to gray, and the spark of youth had faded from his eyes. Yet, his determination burned brighter than ever. And now, after a lifetime of struggle, he had finally attained the third stage¡ªa pinnacle of power he had once thought unreachable. When he achieved it, he had felt invincible, like a titan among mortals. When Baron Geisler, the ruler of this territory, had perished in battle, Gerhardt hadn''t mourned. He had seen it as an opportunity. "The Baron fell because he was careless," Gerhardt had thought. "But I am stronger. I will show this world the might of a third-stage mage!" He had thrown himself into this campaign with reckless enthusiasm, eager to finally prove himself. He had envisioned himself cutting down hordes of enemies, his power unmatched, his name whispered in awe. But now¡­ As an Ogre''s massive club smashed into his barrier, sending him skidding backward, Gerhardt felt his confidence crumble. His chest heaved as he struggled to maintain the protective spell, his mana reserves dwindling faster than he could replenish them. "What is this?" he thought, his eyes darting to the swarm of Orcs and Ogres that surrounded him. "How can this be happening? I am in the third stage! I worked my whole life for this power!" An Orc lunged at him, its blade glinting wickedly in the firelight. Gerhardt raised his staff, summoning a blast of fire that incinerated the creature mid-air. But no sooner had the Orc fallen than another took its place. "These are just Orcs!" he thought desperately, his mind racing. "Simple beasts! Brutes! How can they be overpowering me?!" His eyes flicked to Volk, the Orc leader, standing at the edge of the battlefield. There was something terrifyingly composed about him, as if he were orchestrating the entire fight with the precision of a master tactician. "An Orc," Gerhardt thought, his heart sinking. "A mere Orc¡­ outmaneuvering me? Overpowering me? No¡­ it can''t be!" The realization hit him like a physical blow. He wasn''t invincible. His decades of struggle, his hard-won power¡ªnone of it mattered in the face of this overwhelming force. And for the first time in his life, Gerhardt felt a bone-deep fear he couldn''t shake. The battlefield roared with chaos as explosions of magic and the guttural cries of Orcs and Ogres filled the air. Gerhardt''s heart pounded like a war drum, his once-proud robes now tattered and scorched, his mana reserves dangerously low. He gritted his teeth, clutching his staff tightly, trying to stave off the panic that threatened to consume him. Amid the mayhem, a sudden cry rose above the din¡ªa voice filled with pain and despair. Gerhardt turned his weary gaze toward the source, and his heart sank. The mage who rode the wingless wyvern, with its molten lava-like scales, was in dire straits. The wyvern flapped its tattered wings weakly, embers flickering from its cracked hide. Its once-majestic form now bore deep gashes, blackened burns, and signs of fatigue beyond measure. Its rider, the mage cloaked in crimson, barely clung to the saddle, his staff dangling limply in one hand. The mage tried to raise his staff, summoning a desperate burst of flame toward an advancing Ogre. The fire surged forward, a brilliant, defiant arc of heat and fury, but it lacked the strength it once carried. The Ogre shrugged it off, roaring as it continued its relentless march. The wyvern let out a low, mournful growl, its body trembling as it struggled to stay aloft. Its wings flapped erratically, each beat weaker than the last. The mage, sensing the creature''s imminent collapse, pulled on its reins and shouted, "Hold on! Just a little longer!" But the wyvern could no longer comply. Its molten scales dimmed as though its fiery core was flickering out. With a keening wail, it began to descend. The sight was agonizingly slow, each agonized beat of its wings a futile attempt to regain altitude. The mage gripped the reins tightly, his bloodied face set in grim determination, but his own injuries left him powerless to aid his mount. Gerhardt watched helplessly as the wyvern''s descent turned into a spiraling plummet. It struck the battlefield with a deafening crash, molten scales flaring one last time before dimming completely. The ground trembled beneath the impact, and a plume of dust and embers rose into the sky. The mage, thrown from his saddle, hit the ground with a sickening thud. His staff rolled away from his limp hand, and his crimson robes, once a symbol of power, were now torn and bloodied. For a moment, there was silence. Gerhardt wanted to look away, but his eyes remained fixed on the fallen mage. The man stirred weakly, raising his head to meet the oncoming horde of Orcs and Ogres. His face was etched with despair, but also a flicker of defiance. He reached for his staff, his trembling fingers brushing against it, only for an Orc to stomp down, shattering it into splinters. The mage let out a guttural cry of anguish, his defiance snuffed out like a candle. The wyvern, still barely alive, let out a final, pitiful growl. It attempted to shield its master with its massive, battered body, curling around him protectively. But the Orcs showed no mercy. They surged forward, hacking at the creature with brutal efficiency until it moved no more. Gerhardt felt a chill run through him as he watched this macabre display. The fire that had once burned so brightly in his fellow mage''s eyes was extinguished, leaving only an empty, hollow gaze that stared into the abyss. He turned his head away, his breathing shallow and uneven. "This¡­ this can''t be happening," he murmured under his breath. His mind raced with questions, his chest tightening as he struggled to process what he had just witnessed. A third-stage mage like Gerhardt himself, a master of flame, reduced to nothing. A wyvern of molten majesty, crushed like an insect beneath the relentless tide of Orcs and Ogres. He clutched his staff tighter, his knuckles whitening. His body trembled¡ªnot from exhaustion, but from the cold grip of dread that now coiled around his heart. Is this the beginning of the end? he wondered, his eyes darting across the battlefield, where the tide of battle was rapidly turning against them. The battlefield descended into pure chaos, and Gerhardt could only watch in horror as one by one, his comrades fell, their once-mighty magical beasts brought low by the relentless assault of the Orcs and Ogres. The mage astride the crystalline stag with glowing blue antlers was the next to falter. The stag, its shimmering form a beacon of arcane elegance, had been tirelessly evading attacks, its crystalline hooves leaving trails of frost in the air as it danced away from danger. But even its grace and speed couldn''t save it from the tide of brutality. An Ogre hurled a massive stone that shattered against the stag''s flank, sending shards of crystal scattering like broken glass. The beast let out a haunting cry, its antlers dimming as frost spread across its body, not from its own magic, but from the life force ebbing away. The mage on its back tried to channel a protective barrier, but an Orc''s spear tore through the shield and found its mark in the stag''s side. The mage cried out, leaping from the saddle as the stag collapsed, its once-radiant form dull and lifeless. Before the mage could recover, a group of Orcs descended upon him, their savage blades gleaming. His desperate incantations were drowned out by their war cries as they ended him without mercy. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Then, the serpentine creature with iridescent scales¡ªits master a mage cloaked in robes of shifting, opalescent hues¡ªbegan to falter. The beast had been gliding effortlessly through the air, its movements hypnotic as it dodged attack after attack. But its grace was shattered when a massive club, swung by an enraged Ogre, caught it mid-flight. The serpentine creature let out a piercing screech as it was flung into the ground, its luminous scales flickering erratically. The mage on its back tumbled to the dirt, clutching a shimmering orb as he attempted to summon a counterattack. But the Orcs were already upon him. His serpentine companion tried to coil protectively around him, its body shimmering with one final burst of energy. Yet, the assault was too fierce. The mage screamed as he was dragged from the beast''s coils and into the waiting blades of his enemies. The hulking feline with glowing green eyes and its rider were next. The feline had been a force of nature, its claws rending through Ogres and Orcs alike with terrifying precision. Its rider, a mage wreathed in emerald light, had fought valiantly, weaving spells of devastation that tore through the horde. But even this duo couldn''t withstand the unending waves of attackers. The feline, its sleek body covered in deep gashes, growled weakly as it faced down a trio of Ogres. One of them raised a jagged club and brought it down with a sickening crunch, shattering the beast''s spine. The mage, his emerald aura flickering, screamed in fury as he unleashed one final spell¡ªa massive explosion of green light that vaporized the closest attackers. But the effort left him drained, and he collapsed to his knees. The remaining Orcs wasted no time, descending upon him with brutal efficiency. Finally, the mage who rode the pitch-black arachnid met his end. The arachnid''s clattering legs had carried it through the battlefield with eerie speed, its gleaming eyes scanning for threats as its master directed devastating attacks from above. But its movements slowed as arrows and spears pierced its carapace, dark ichor spilling from its wounds. The mage tried to retreat, his voice trembling as he chanted incantations to shield himself. But the arachnid let out a final, ghastly hiss before collapsing, its legs twitching in death throes. The mage, now exposed, was left defenseless. He tried to summon a vortex of shadow to obscure his escape, but a massive Orc axe cleaved through the spell and into his chest, silencing him forever. One by one, Gerhardt''s comrades and their mighty beasts were brought down, their efforts to stem the tide crushed under the weight of Volk''s relentless horde. Gerhardt stood frozen, his heart sinking further with every loss. This is the end, he thought, his hands trembling as he clutched his staff. He could feel the despair creeping into his soul, a cold, suffocating grip that threatened to overwhelm him. Chapter 275 - 275: Tough old mage Gerhardt, bloodied and battered, stumbled across the battlefield, every step a testament to his desperation. His staff, a once-pristine artifact of power, was now splintered and smeared with grime, shaking in his trembling hands. His mana reserves were nearly depleted, and his body screamed in agony from the countless wounds carved into his flesh. Yet, his eyes burned with a fierce determination. "I won''t die here. Not like this. Not to them." His voice was hoarse, barely audible above the chaos around him. As he fell to his knees, surrounded by the smoldering ruins of his comrades and their fallen mounts, Gerhardt made a choice that would haunt the battlefield for eternity. With trembling fingers, he reached into his blood-soaked robes and pulled out a rune-carved dagger, its blade gleaming faintly with forbidden magic. Desperate times call for desperate measures, he thought grimly, clutching the dagger tightly. "Mana needs a price," he whispered to himself, his voice laced with both dread and resolve. "If the price is my own flesh, so be it." Without hesitation, he pressed the dagger against his left forearm and carved a deep, precise line into his skin. Blood poured from the wound, but as it did, an eerie blue glow radiated from the cut. Gerhardt winced but continued, his lips muttering incantations through the pain. The runes on the dagger flared to life, consuming the spilled blood and channeling it into his veins, reigniting his mana reserves with a surge of raw, volatile energy. His left arm, trembling from the strain, began to wither slightly, the flesh receding as if devoured by an unseen force. But Gerhardt ignored the pain. He raised his staff, now glowing with unstable magic, and unleashed a torrent of elemental energy at the nearest group of Orcs. Fire, ice, and lightning collided in a devastating explosion, incinerating the attackers and leaving a smoldering crater in their wake. But it wasn''t enough. Gerhardt staggered forward, his body screaming in protest. The loss of blood was making him dizzy, but he gritted his teeth and pressed the dagger against his left thigh next. This time, the cut was deeper, the glow brighter, and the pain sharper. His leg immediately felt weaker, the muscles shrinking as the life force was drained from them. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "More... I need more!" he growled, his voice growing more feral as desperation overtook reason. Another spell erupted from his staff, this time a cascading wave of molten earth that surged across the battlefield, swallowing a dozen Ogres in its molten embrace. The screams of his enemies filled the air, but so did the cries of his own body, which was rapidly deteriorating with every spell cast. Gerhardt''s right hand was shaking violently now, the dagger barely steady as he brought it to his own shoulder. This time, the cut wasn''t precise; it was jagged, brutal. Blood sprayed everywhere as he cried out in agony, the mana pouring into him like a flood threatening to burst its dam. A massive explosion of energy erupted from his staff, disintegrating an entire battalion of Orcs and sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Even Volk, perched atop a mound of destruction, turned his head toward the light. "Still clinging to life, are we?" Volk muttered, a cruel grin spreading across his face. But Gerhardt didn''t notice. His world was a haze of pain and power, his mind fractured by the overwhelming strain. He could barely stand, his body now frail and emaciated, his once-proud figure reduced to a gaunt shadow of itself. As he stumbled, he whispered through bloodied lips, "If my life is the price... then take it all." He carved a final rune into his chest, the dagger falling from his hands as he collapsed to his knees. The rune glowed brighter than any before it, consuming what little strength he had left. He raised his staff one last time, aiming it toward Volk and the horde. "I... won''t... fall... alone!" The battlefield erupted in an enormous explosion of raw magic, a cataclysmic burst that threatened to consume everything in its radius. Gerhardt, his body barely holding together, let out one final cry of defiance as the light enveloped him. As the explosion''s light began to fade and the deafening roar dissipated into echoes across the battlefield, a figure emerged from the smoke unscathed. Volk stepped forward, his muscular form towering over the ruined landscape. His radioactive aura pulsed faintly, shielding him from the devastation Gerhardt had unleashed. A wicked grin spread across his face as he looked down at the crumpled figure of the old mage, barely alive and kneeling amidst the smoldering remains of his futile sacrifice. "Is that all, old man?" Volk''s voice was laced with venomous mockery, deep and resonant, cutting through the silence like a blade. He took a step closer, his boots crushing the charred remains of the battlefield beneath them. "All that fanfare, all that bloodshed, just for... this?" Gerhardt, trembling and barely able to lift his head, glared up at Volk through bloodshot eyes. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him, a wet gurgle escaping his lips instead. Volk crouched down, his glowing eyes narrowing as he tilted his head. "You carved up your own body for this pathetic display of power. And for what? To burn a few Orcs? Kill a handful of Ogres? Pathetic." He stood again, his mocking laughter booming across the battlefield. "You call yourself a third-stage mage? A warrior of magic? Look at you now. You''re nothing more than a husk. A sad, shriveled relic of a dying world." Volk''s words were like daggers, each one stabbing into Gerhardt''s pride. The old mage gritted his teeth, forcing his head to rise a fraction higher. "Oh, what''s that?" Volk leaned in closer, cupping a hand to his ear theatrically. "Are you trying to say something? Go on, mage. Let the world hear your dying words." Gerhardt spat blood, his trembling hand grasping at his broken staff. He managed to rasp, "You... won''t... win..." Volk roared with laughter, throwing his head back. "Won''t win? Do you see this battlefield, old man? Your comrades are dead. Your precious mounts are corpses. And you..." He pointed at Gerhardt, his finger glowing with a faint radioactive light, "are already halfway in the grave." The towering Orc circled him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey. "You thought you could stop me with your ''sacrifices''? That you could harm me with your desperate little spells? I''ve faced gods, old man. You''re not even a worthy distraction." Volk stopped behind Gerhardt, placing a massive hand on the mage''s frail shoulder. The heat of his touch burned through the mage''s tattered robes, eliciting a weak groan of pain. "But don''t worry," Volk whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I''ll make this quick. After all, you''ve suffered enough. And I¡ª" His grin widened, exposing rows of sharp teeth. "¡ªam nothing if not merciful." With a sharp shove, Volk sent Gerhardt sprawling to the ground, his body too weak to resist. He stood over him, raising his glowing fist high into the air. "Any last words, old man? Or should I just end this pitiful charade?" Volk''s grin faltered slightly as Gerhardt''s battered form began to glow faintly, an eerie light emanating from deep within his chest. The old mage''s breathing was ragged, and his body trembled with exhaustion, but his eyes... his eyes burned with a defiant determination. Without a word, Gerhardt clutched his broken staff and drove its splintered end into the ground. The glow intensified, spreading outwards in a rippling wave. A translucent shield of radiant energy materialized around him, shimmering like molten glass. Volk''s radioactive aura pulsed as he took a step back, his instincts warning him of the sudden shift. He frowned, his mocking demeanor replaced by a wary curiosity. "Oh? What''s this? You''re still clinging to life, old man?" Gerhardt didn''t reply. His lips moved in silent incantation, his focus unyielding. Sweat poured down his face as veins of light crawled up his arms, converging at his trembling hands. The shield around him thickened, glowing brighter with each passing second. Volk narrowed his eyes. "You think hiding behind that little bubble will save you? It won''t. I''ll shatter it just like I shattered your comrades!" He lunged forward, his fist glowing with a sickly green light as he slammed it into the barrier. BOOOOM! The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the battlefield, kicking up dust and debris. But when the dust settled, the shield stood firm, its surface unmarred. Volk growled, his muscles tensing. He raised both fists, slamming them down together in a devastating double blow. CRAAAACK! The ground beneath the shield splintered, but the barrier absorbed the attack with an almost taunting resilience. Inside the shield, Gerhardt''s focus never wavered. His internal struggle was immense; he had sacrificed something critical within himself¡ªa fragment of his very essence, perhaps his lifeforce or his mana core. He could feel his body weakening further, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he funneled every ounce of his remaining power into the spell he was conjuring. Volk snarled, slamming his fists repeatedly against the barrier. "What are you doing in there, old man? Hiding? Cowering? You''re only delaying the inevitable!" The Orc leader paused, his chest heaving with frustration. He could feel it now¡ªan ominous energy building within the shield. It wasn''t an attack, not yet. It was something... defensive, protective. Volk tilted his head, his glowing eyes narrowing. "Ah, I see. You''re not attacking me. You''re stalling." A slow grin crept back onto his face as he crossed his arms, standing tall before the glowing barrier. "Fine. Build your little defense, conjure your little spell. I''ll wait. And when you''re done..." He leaned closer, his voice dripping with menace, "I''ll make sure to destroy every last piece of you." Inside the shield, Gerhardt''s voice finally broke the silence, though it was faint, barely audible above the hum of the magic. "I may not win... but I will ensure you don''t leave this battlefield unscathed." Volk''s grin faltered again, just for a moment. Something in Gerhardt''s tone¡ªan unyielding resolve, a hint of finality¡ªsent a shiver through him. "Do your worst," Volk muttered, stepping back. His fists clenched, his radioactive aura flaring wildly as he prepared for whatever the old man was planning. Chapter 276 - 276: Being cursed The translucent shield around Gerhardt pulsed with increasing intensity, its glow now so bright that it bathed the entire battlefield in its eerie light. Inside, Gerhardt''s body trembled violently, his legs barely holding him up as the toll of his sacrifice became evident. His once robust frame was withering away; his skin had taken on a pallid, dry texture, cracking in places as if it were turning to ash. His breath came in shallow, labored gasps, each exhale weaker than the last. The radiant veins of light coursing through his body grew brighter, almost as if his very essence was being siphoned into the spell he was conjuring. His gaunt face twisted with a mixture of pain and determination, his lips still moving in silent incantation. Outside the barrier, Volk watched with a mix of amusement and annoyance. He could feel the raw power building within Gerhardt, and while it intrigued him, it also set him on edge. He took a step back, the glow of his radioactive aura clashing against the mage''s barrier. "Look at you," Volk sneered, his voice laced with mockery. "You''re falling apart, old man. Whatever you''re trying to do, it''s killing you faster than I ever could." Gerhardt didn''t respond. His focus was absolute, his frail hands moving with painstaking slowness as he directed the growing energy. His staff, now little more than a splintered relic, glowed with the same ominous light, resonating with the barrier as if it were an extension of his soul. The battlefield seemed to hold its breath. Even the Orcs and Ogres who had been rampaging moments earlier had paused, their attention drawn to the blinding light emanating from Gerhardt''s shield. The air itself felt heavy, charged with an oppressive energy that made even Volk''s hardened warriors uneasy. "Whatever you''re doing in there, it won''t be enough," Volk growled, his voice rising above the hum of the barrier. "I''ve faced stronger enemies than you. You''re just an old fool clinging to life!" Gerhardt''s eyes flickered open at those words, their dim glow locking onto Volk. He looked frail, broken, and yet, there was an undeniable fire in his gaze¡ªa burning resolve that refused to die. "You speak... as if you''ve already won," Gerhardt rasped, his voice barely audible but filled with defiance. The light within the barrier began to shift, condensing into a singular, pulsating orb at Gerhardt''s chest. The energy was unstable, crackling with raw, elemental force as it threatened to break free. Gerhardt''s body continued to deteriorate, his skin now paper-thin and his movements sluggish, but his hands remained steady as he directed the final stages of his spell. Volk''s grin faltered, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He could feel the magnitude of the magic being unleashed, and it was unlike anything he had encountered before. "Last chance, old man," Volk called out, his voice tinged with a hint of urgency. "Stop this now, and I might let you die quickly." Gerhardt ignored him, his lips moving one final time as he completed the incantation. The orb of energy at his chest flared brighter than the sun, its radiance overwhelming. And then, as the barrier began to crack and shatter, Gerhardt raised his trembling hands, aiming the massive, unstable energy directly at Volk. "This is for everything," he whispered, his voice a mere breath. The scene ended with the shattering sound of the barrier collapsing and the blinding light of the energy release poised to unleash its fury upon the Orc leader. Gerhardt''s trembling hands finally released the pulsating orb of energy. It tore through the air with a deafening roar, a beam of radiant light so intense that it left streaks of afterimages in the sky. The ground beneath it split as the force of the blast rippled outward, creating shockwaves that hurled debris in every direction. Volk stood his ground, his massive, muscular form unflinching as the magical attack hurtled toward him. The energy struck him squarely in the chest, exploding into a blinding cascade of light and thunder. The battlefield was momentarily engulfed in a dazzling display of power, and everything seemed to pause, as though the entire world had held its breath. When the light finally subsided, Volk emerged from the smoke and debris, entirely unscathed. His imposing figure remained rooted where he had been, his radioactive aura shimmering faintly around him like a shield. His lips curled into a mocking grin as he raised a hand to dust off his chest, where the attack had landed harmlessly. "That''s it?" Volk''s deep voice rumbled with disdain, carrying across the battlefield. "That was your grand finale?" He barked out a laugh, the sound raw and guttural. "You wasted your body, your life, for that? Do you not see what I am?" He stepped forward, towering over the frail form of Gerhardt. The Orc leader gestured to his massive frame. "Spells like that don''t work on me. My body¡ªthis glorious body¡ªis saturated with magical resistance. It''s what makes me the apex predator in this forsaken realm. Every ounce of effort you put into that attack..." Volk leaned closer, his grin widening, "...was worthless." Gerhardt''s frail form wavered, his legs barely able to support him. His body looked like it would collapse at any moment, the toll of his sacrifice leaving him a husk of his former self. And yet, as Volk''s words rang out, the old man didn''t flinch. Instead, a faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on Gerhardt''s cracked lips. Volk''s mocking laughter faltered as he noticed the expression. He straightened, narrowing his glowing eyes at the human mage. "What are you smiling about?" Volk demanded, his voice sharp, the confidence in it flickering for the first time. Gerhardt didn''t reply. He simply stood there, barely alive, the faint smile refusing to leave his face. The scene ended with Volk''s towering form looming over the enigmatic, broken mage, a growing sense of unease creeping into the Orc leader''s mind. Volk took a step back as Gerhardt''s dry, cracked lips twisted into a crooked smile, and then, against all expectations, the frail old man began to laugh. It was not the laughter of a defeated man. It wasn''t the laughter of a broken mind. It was deliberate, guttural, and haunting¡ªa sound that echoed with defiance, even in the face of death itself. The laugh grew louder, reverberating across the battlefield like a taunt, making even Volk''s hardened warriors pause. The air grew heavier, as if the very land bore witness to something momentous. Gerhardt''s withered hand lifted weakly, pointing at Volk with a shaking finger, his grin widening. "Do you think... this is victory for you?" Gerhardt rasped, his voice hoarse but gaining strength as he spoke. "You stand there, mighty in your invulnerability, mocking me, mocking us all, believing you''re untouchable. You think I didn''t know my magic wouldn''t harm you? You think I didn''t know?" He coughed violently, spitting blood onto the ground, but his laughter didn''t waver. His words continued, each one dripping with venom. "Of course, I knew," Gerhardt hissed, his sunken eyes glowing with a spark of defiance. "I spent my entire life studying the arcane. I''ve read the tomes, dissected the spells, and tested every possibility. I knew your kind, Volk. I knew my magic wouldn''t touch that grotesque, magic-resistant body of yours. But magic¡­ isn''t all I learned." Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. The warriors around him exchanged uneasy glances, unsettled by the strange energy in the air. "You''ve won this battle, Orc," Gerhardt spat, his voice rising in intensity. "But your so-called triumph is a shallow one. Because what I''ve cast upon you isn''t a spell meant to harm you now. No, it''s something far worse. It''s a curse¡ªone that will chain you to this forest for the rest of your miserable existence!" Volk''s expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "A curse?" he repeated, the word laced with disbelief. "Yes, a curse," Gerhardt replied, his voice almost triumphant. "You''ll never leave this place, Volk. Do you hear me? Never! The moment you try to pass beyond these trees, this forest will rise against you. Every magical beast, every spirit, every living entity within this cursed land will turn its fury upon you. And do you know why?" Gerhardt leaned forward, his skeletal frame trembling as he glared up at Volk. "Because you''ve claimed dominion here, haven''t you? You''ve enslaved the creatures of this realm, warped them to your will, corrupted their very nature. And now, they''ll see you as nothing more than a threat, an invader, a blight upon their existence!" Volk''s muscles tensed as Gerhardt''s words sank in. The towering Orc shifted his stance, suddenly feeling the oppressive presence of the forest around him. The trees seemed darker, the shadows deeper, as though the very land listened to the mage''s curse. "You''ve won nothing, Volk," Gerhardt sneered, his laughter turning bitter. "You''ll rule this cursed forest, yes. You''ll be the king of your decaying throne, but you''ll never move beyond it. Never!" His voice cracked, yet it still held a chilling power. "You''ve traded freedom for dominance, power for imprisonment. This is your fate, Volk! The mighty Orc lord, caged by the very forest he sought to conquer!" Volk growled, his fists clenching, but Gerhardt continued undeterred. "And do you know the best part?" Gerhardt''s voice dropped to a whisper, forcing Volk to lean closer to hear him. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "This curse doesn''t care how strong you are, how many armies you command, or how invulnerable your flesh may be. It''s not about power. It''s about balance. The forest itself will see to it that you remain here, forever, until the day you wither away, just like me." A shudder passed through Gerhardt''s body as his strength began to fade, but his smile remained. "Enjoy your victory, Orc. Savor it. Because it''s the last freedom you''ll ever know." As the last word left his lips, Gerhardt''s body convulsed, the final reserves of his life force expended. His skin, now as dry and brittle as ancient parchment, cracked and crumbled. His eyes dulled, the faint glow of magic extinguished. With one last exhale, his body slumped forward, lifeless and drained, collapsing into a heap of ash and bone. The battlefield fell silent. Volk stared at the remains of his adversary, the weight of Gerhardt''s words settling over him like a suffocating fog. His warriors watched their leader, waiting for his response, as the shadows of the forest seemed to stretch closer, almost as if they were watching too. Chapter 277 - 277: New Mission System Notification: Ding! Host power recovered! | Three minutes have been extended to twenty-five minutes for the manifestation of your Radioactive Form. | Volk''s triumphant laughter boomed across the battlefield. GURAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! His massive fists pounded against his chest, the sound echoing like thunder as his warriors roared in celebration. His hulking frame trembled with excitement as his power surged through his veins, his radioactive aura flickering like a storm. Then¡ª Ding! Another system notification appeared before Volk, halting his laughter. New Mission Alert! Objective: Conquer the Path of Absolute forest Domination! Volk leaned closer, his glowing eyes scanning the details as the system unfurled the list of seven missions: 1. Eradicate the Forest Beasts of the Northernn Valley of Orcs. Description: Within the confines of this cursed forest, creatures of immense power have been stirred by Gerhardt''s curse. These beasts have been imbued with ancient magic and an unnatural bloodlust, driven to eliminate the Orc lord and his horde. Your mission is to locate their dens, defeat their leaders, and reclaim dominance over the forest. Be wary: some creatures are unlike anything you''ve faced before¡ªmasters of camouflage, aerial assault, and venomous attacks that can bypass even your radioactive resistance. Their cunning knows no bounds, and their combined strength rivals even your enhanced form. Each victory will weaken the curse''s hold on you, but failure will mean endless waves of predators hunting you down relentlessly. 2. Harvest the Core of the Ancient Tree of Souls Description: Deep in the forest lies the Ancient Tree of Souls, an entity that serves as the heart of the forest''s magical energy. This tree has awakened to your presence and sees you as a plague to be eradicated. The tree''s core contains a unique magical essence capable of unraveling parts of the curse. However, reaching the core will be no simple task. Its roots stretch across miles, summoning forest spirits, enchanted roots, and guardian treants that can regenerate endlessly. Even worse, the tree''s essence emits waves of energy capable of dispelling your radioactive form for brief intervals, leaving you vulnerable. Extracting the core will require immense strategy, speed, and resilience. 3. Subjugate the Rebel Orc Tribes Description: Not all Orcs are loyal to Volk. Several splinter groups within the forest, sensing the curse''s weakening of your control, have risen in rebellion. These tribes are led by former chieftains who have tapped into the forest''s magic to bolster their strength. They view you as a usurper and have allied themselves with the beasts of Northern forest of Orzaroth. To solidify your dominance, you must eliminate their leaders or force them into submission through battle. Beware their guerrilla tactics, traps, and overwhelming numbers. Their leaders possess unique magical abilities bestowed upon them by the forest spirits. Locate the Shard of Temporal Reversal Description: Somewhere within Northern forest of Orzaroth lies the Shard of Temporal Reversal, a relic capable of turning back time for a limited duration. This shard can potentially undo the curse, but it comes at a cost. Acquiring the shard requires traversing the Caverns of Endless Time, a labyrinth filled with illusions, temporal anomalies, and creatures that exist outside of time itself. Each wrong step could trap you in an endless loop, forcing you to relive past failures indefinitely. Success will demand cunning, patience, and an unyielding will. 5. Build the Bloodforge of the Undying. Description: To overcome the curse, you must construct the Bloodforge of the Undying, a legendary structure that amplifies your power and binds the forest''s magic to your will. To build this forge, you must collect rare materials scattered across the Northern forest of Orzaroth: volcanic ore from the Molten Crags, spectral essences from fallen spirits, and the blood of the cursed forest beasts. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Each material is heavily guarded, and the act of gathering them will draw the attention of the forest''s defenders. Time is of the essence; failure to complete the forge will leave you at the mercy of the curse. 6. Slay the Guardian Spirit of Northern forest of Orzaroth. Description: At the heart of the curse lies the Guardian Spirit of Northern forest of Orzaroth, an ethereal being that embodies the forest''s wrath. This spirit cannot be harmed by conventional means and has the power to manipulate the environment against you. It can summon hurricanes, floods, and firestorms to decimate your forces. To face the spirit, you must first weaken it by destroying its anchors¡ªthree ancient totems hidden deep within the forest. Each totem is guarded by elite beasts and traps designed to break even the strongest warriors. Destroying the totems will weaken the spirit, allowing you to face it in its true form. 7. Conquer the Great Outpost Beyond the Forest. Description: Beyond the forest lies the Great Outpost, a bastion of human resistance filled with skilled knights, elite magicians, and advanced weaponry. This outpost serves as a rallying point for humans seeking to destroy you. To escape the forest and cement your power, you must conquer this outpost. The outpost is fortified with walls enchanted to repel magic, ballistae capable of piercing Ogre flesh, and warriors trained to counter Orc tactics. Victory will require strategy, overwhelming force, and the element of surprise. Once the outpost falls, the curse will lose its grip entirely, and your dominion will extend beyond the forest''s boundaries. Ding! The notification faded as Volk''s glowing eyes scanned the list. His laughter returned, louder and more menacing than ever, shaking the battlefield. He turned to his horde, their faces filled with awe and anticipation. "Gather your strength!" Volk bellowed, his voice like thunder. "We have work to do. The forest will bow to me, and beyond it... the world!" ¡­ Volk''s enormous frame strode through the forest, the ground trembling beneath his feet as his Orc and Ogre horde followed in his wake. Yet, despite his triumphant demeanor and the radioactive power thrumming within him, his mind was far from settled. The notification of the seven missions replayed in his thoughts like an incessant drumbeat. Each one seemed critical, each one promising untold rewards or catastrophic consequences. He glanced at his warriors, their brutish faces filled with blind loyalty and bloodlust. For them, it was simple¡ªkill, destroy, conquer. But for Volk, the decision wasn''t so easy. Stopping abruptly, he raised a hand, halting the march. The horde quieted, watching him with anticipation. Volk rubbed his chin, his glowing eyes narrowing as he pondered aloud, his deep voice resonating like distant thunder. Volk paced back and forth, his massive claws tracing patterns in the dirt. "The beasts of this cursed forest are a menace. Killing them would prove my dominance over this land. If I take this path, I''d gain control of the forest itself. Every predator would either fall to me or serve me. Their pelts, bones, and magical cores could strengthen my army. My Ogres could wield their bones as weapons, and their blood could be used in rituals to enhance my shamans. And imagine¡­ a forest that obeys my command instead of fighting against me!" He growled, his eyes narrowing. "But the risk¡­ oh, the risk! These beasts aren''t just animals¡ªthey''re imbued with Gerhardt''s curse. Some of them might be stronger than me, even in this form. "They''ll attack from the shadows, using the forest itself to trap and ambush me. I could lose my best warriors to them, and even if I win, my forces might be too depleted to handle the other challenges. "Worse, what if the forest spirits retaliate? Killing these beasts could make the forest even angrier." He stopped pacing and looked up at the towering canopy above him. "The Tree of Souls¡­ its core is the very heart of the forest''s magic. If I claim it, I''ll not only weaken the curse but also harness its power for myself. Imagine¡­ a radioactive Orc with control over life itself! "My power would grow beyond imagination. My enemies would kneel before me, unable to resist the magic flowing through their veins that I could control. And the forest would be mine, no longer a threat." He grimaced, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "But that tree is ancient. Its roots spread for miles, and its guardians will stop at nothing to protect it. Spirits, treants, and who knows what other monstrosities will stand in my way. And the tree itself? "It could unleash waves of energy that even I might not withstand. What if it traps me in one of its roots, draining my strength until I''m nothing but a husk? The reward is tempting, but the risk¡­ it''s enormous." Volk clenched his fists, his radioactive aura flaring briefly. "The rebel tribes are a thorn in my side. If I bring them to heel, I''ll have more soldiers, more shamans, and more strength to crush my enemies. Their numbers could swell my horde into an unstoppable force, and their magic, weak as it is, could still prove useful. Plus, breaking their leaders would send a message to anyone else who dares defy me." He sighed, a rare moment of exasperation. "But those rebels are cunning. They''ve aligned themselves with the forest beasts, using their knowledge of the terrain against me. They''ll set traps, launch ambushes, and weaken my forces before I can even reach them. "And even if I win, integrating them into my horde could cause dissent. Some of my loyal warriors might not trust them. What if they betray me again, right when I''m dealing with the other missions?" He tilted his head, his glowing eyes flickering with interest. "The Shard of Temporal Reversal¡­ now that''s something intriguing. With it, I could undo mistakes, retry battles, or even reverse the curse entirely. "Its power could turn the tide of any situation in my favor. If I wield it, I could become invincible, always one step ahead of my enemies. Imagine rewinding time to crush my foes before they even know what hit them!" His expression darkened. "But the Caverns of Endless Time¡­ I''ve heard the stories. Illusions that twist your mind, creatures that defy logic, and temporal traps that could leave me stuck in an eternal loop. "What if I get lost there, reliving the same failure over and over? And what if the shard itself has a cost? Time magic is dangerous¡ªit could backfire, erasing me or my horde from existence altogether." Volk smirked, imagining the forge in his mind. "The Bloodforge¡­ a structure that amplifies my power and binds the forest''s magic to my will. With it, I could overcome the curse entirely and become unstoppable. "My radioactive form could last indefinitely, and my enemies would crumble before me. The materials needed to build it would strengthen my warriors along the way, and completing it would solidify my reign." His smirk faded. "But gathering those materials¡­ volcanic ore, spectral essences, cursed blood¡­ it''ll take time and effort. Each material is guarded by creatures or forces that will drain my resources and manpower. "And building the forge itself could attract the attention of every enemy in Orzaroth. What if they unite against me, seeing the forge as the ultimate threat?" Volk''s radioactive aura flared again, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "The Guardian Spirit is the source of this curse. Killing it would break the curse completely, freeing me from its grip. "It would prove my dominance over this cursed land, and no one would ever dare challenge me again. Its death would also send a message to the forest: Volk rules here now." He snarled, baring his teeth. "But that spirit is no ordinary foe. It can manipulate the very elements against me, summoning storms, earthquakes, and fire. It''s not bound by the same rules as mortal beings. "What if I can''t harm it? What if its death triggers an even worse curse? And finding its totems¡­ that''s a task in itself. Each one will be a fortress of traps and defenders." Volk turned his gaze toward the horizon, imagining the outpost in flames. "The Great Outpost is a prize worth taking. Conquering it would give me control of this region, access to human resources, and the ability to expand my reign beyond the forest. "Their knights, magicians, and weapons would become mine, adding to my unstoppable force." His voice grew grim. "But that outpost¡­ it''s fortified to the teeth. Walls enchanted to repel magic, ballistae that could pierce even an Ogre''s hide, and soldiers trained to counter Orc tactics. "A direct assault would cost me dearly, and if I fail, my reputation would suffer. What if the humans rally, bringing reinforcements from beyond? The forest would still be against me, and I''d be fighting a war on two fronts." Volk sighed, his massive shoulders heaving as the weight of the decisions pressed down on him. He glanced at his horde, their eager faces looking to him for guidance. "Which one¡­ which one do I choose?" he muttered to himself, his voice low but filled with frustration. "Each path has its rewards, but the risks¡­ they''re all too great. Yet I must decide, for hesitation is death. But where to begin?" As he resumed his march, his mind churned with possibilities, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of each mission. For Volk, this was not just about survival¡ªit was about forging his legacy as the most fearsome leader Orzaroth had ever seen. Chapter 278 - 278: Declining the system Volk''s march slowed as his massive feet crushed the underbrush beneath him. His radioactive aura dimmed ever so slightly, though its ominous hum continued to ripple through the air. The forest canopy above cast fractured beams of light onto his hulking figure, yet his glowing eyes, filled with an uncharacteristic depth of thought, were focused inward. The notifications still lingered in his mind, each mission outlined with haunting clarity. They weren''t just options¡ªthey were crossroads, each leading to a future fraught with potential and peril. He scratched his chin with a clawed hand, his brow furrowed in a rare moment of contemplation. The horde behind him hesitated as they watched their leader slow, uncertain whether to pause or press forward. Volk''s imposing figure was like a monolith, immovable yet radiating energy that could erupt at any moment. His silence was unnerving, his deep breaths resonating like the distant rumble of a storm. Volk gritted his teeth. His voice, though low, reverberated through the forest as he muttered his thoughts. "The beasts of this forest¡­ they''re relentless. Killing them would give me control, but at what cost? I''ve already felt the sting of their ambushes, their claws and fangs tearing into my warriors. And the curse¡­ that damned curse. "What if it strengthens them the moment I strike? What if this mission isn''t a victory but a trap? My forces are strong, but are they strong enough to face the unknown lurking in these woods?" His eyes narrowed, his thoughts shifting to the Tree of Souls. "Its power¡­ it''s undeniable. The heart of the forest itself, beating for centuries. If I claim it, I could reshape this land to my will. But the risks? I''ve heard the stories. Spirits that guard it, roots that can crush even the strongest of Ogres. "What if it consumes me instead? What if I become nothing more than another ghost trapped in its branches? No¡­ this isn''t a simple task¡ªit''s a gamble." He turned his gaze to the horizon, where the rebel Orc tribes roamed freely. "My kin¡­ or are they? They''re rebellious, foolish, and weak. Bringing them under my banner would strengthen my forces, but at what cost? Disloyalty festers like a disease. "What if they betray me again, right when I need them most? And their alliances with the beasts of the forest¡­ it''s unnatural. I''d be walking into a den of vipers, trusting them not to strike." Volk clenched his fists, his radioactive energy pulsing. The thought of the Shard of Temporal Reversal danced through his mind. "Time itself¡­ bending to my will. Rewriting failures, seizing opportunities. It sounds perfect. But time magic is a dangerous thing. What if it twists me? What if I undo more than I intend? And the Caverns of Endless Time¡­ they''re no place for even the bravest warriors. "Illusions, traps, creatures that defy reality. It''s a labyrinth designed to break the strongest minds. Can I afford to lose myself there?" He exhaled sharply, his breath steaming in the cool forest air as his thoughts shifted to the Bloodforge of the Undying. "A forge that amplifies my power, that binds the magic of this land to me. Its promise is seductive. But the materials¡­ the battles I''d have to fight to gather them¡­ they could drain my forces, leave me vulnerable. "And the forge itself¡­ what if it draws enemies from beyond the forest? What if it becomes the very reason I fall?" Volk growled, his voice rising. "And then there''s the Guardian Spirit of Orzaroth. Killing it would break this curse once and for all. But a spirit isn''t like a man, or even a beast. It''s an embodiment of this land, an ancient force that can''t be fought with strength alone. "What if I can''t harm it? What if its death triggers something even worse? The thought of facing it¡­ it''s exhilarating, but also maddening." Finally, his thoughts turned to the Great Outpost Beyond the Forest. "A fortress brimming with human soldiers, enchanted walls, and weapons meant to destroy creatures like me. Conquering it would send a message, expand my reign. But their defenses are no joke. "Ballistae that could pierce my strongest Ogres, soldiers trained to counter my tactics. And if I fail¡­ no. Failure isn''t an option. But attacking them now, when the forest still stands against me, would be suicidal." Volk stopped entirely, his massive form casting a long shadow over the forest floor. He looked down at his hands, at the faint glow of radioactive power that pulsed through his veins. "Every mission¡­ every single one of them is a double-edged sword. The rewards are vast, but the risks¡­ the risks could destroy me and my horde. "Am I strong enough to take them on? Are my warriors ready? Or am I biting off more than I can chew, chasing power without considering the cost?" He sighed, a low rumble that made the Orcs behind him exchange uneasy glances. "What''s the point of power if I waste it chasing the wrong goal? Every step I take could lead to victory¡­ or disaster. I''ve already gained so much, fought so hard. "But this isn''t just about me. My horde depends on me to lead them. If I choose wrong, they''ll pay the price too." Volk''s glowing eyes scanned the forest, his gaze heavy with the weight of responsibility. The tension in the air was palpable as his warriors waited for his command. For a long moment, Volk said nothing. Then, finally, he shook his head, his expression resolute. "No," he growled, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "I can''t take a mission this time. Not now. Not while the forest still curses me, while my power is unsteady. I''ll wait. I''ll grow stronger. "When the time is right, I''ll choose the path that leads to true dominance. Until then, we march forward, surviving and crushing anyone who dares oppose us." With that, Volk raised his arm, signaling his horde to continue. The forest trembled as the march resumed, but the questions lingered in Volk''s mind, gnawing at him with every step. ¡­ Volk trudged forward, his massive frame moving with deliberate, rhythmic strides that left deep impressions in the forest floor. The horde followed silently, their collective energy subdued as though even they sensed their leader''s contemplative mood. The crackle of his radioactive aura, usually pulsating with menace, now felt more muted, a low hum that mirrored the storm brewing within Volk''s mind. His brow furrowed deeply as his eyes swept across the dense foliage, but his gaze wasn''t on the trees or the path ahead. Instead, it was inward, tangled in the labyrinth of thoughts he couldn''t shake. His claws flexed and unflexed at his sides, his fists clenching intermittently, a physical manifestation of the turmoil roiling in his chest. For perhaps the first time, doubt¡ªa sensation foreign to Volk¡ªtugged at his core. "Why?" he muttered under his breath, his deep voice barely audible over the crunch of leaves beneath his feet. "Why did I decline the system?" The words hung in the air, unanswered, but they festered, gnawing at him with every step. He glanced at his hands, the faint glow of his radioactive energy pulsating beneath his skin. His power was immense, capable of leveling armies, yet the system had offered him even more. Missions¡ªeach one a stepping stone to unparalleled strength. Rewards that could cement his dominance over this wretched forest and the cursed lands beyond. Yet he had said no. He, Volk, who had never turned away from power, had refused the very thing that promised to elevate him. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The thought churned in his mind like a storm, each wave of doubt crashing against the shores of his conviction. "It wasn''t the missions themselves," he muttered, his glowing eyes narrowing. "No¡­ it was something deeper. Something¡­" He trailed off, his jaw tightening as if the words themselves refused to form. Volk replayed the missions in his mind, each one unfolding with crystal clarity. "Every one of them was perfect," he admitted begrudgingly. "No risk, the rewards clear. The system''s guidance would have guaranteed success. I could have brought the forest to its knees, shattered the curse, conquered the humans, and built an empire worthy of my power." He paused, the trees looming around him like silent witnesses. His claws flexed again, and a growl rumbled low in his throat. "But that''s exactly the problem," he snarled. "No risk. No challenge. It''s too perfect, too¡­ easy." His eyes flickered with a dangerous light as he continued to march. "Since when has life ever handed me anything without a fight? The system''s missions feel¡­ wrong. Like a hand guiding me to where it wants me to go. I''m no puppet. If I''m going to carve my path, it''ll be by my own will¡ªnot some unseen force pulling strings." The thought of testing the system lingered, a dark and tantalizing idea that fed his pride. "What happens if I don''t take its missions? Does it get weaker? Does it punish me? Or does it start offering more¡­ desperate bargains?" He smirked at the thought, though his expression quickly soured. "Or maybe it doesn''t care. Maybe I''m nothing but another pawn in its game." Yet there was another layer, a deeper reason for his refusal, one that gnawed at him even more fiercely. Every mission, no matter how enticing, had one glaring commonality: they all tethered him to this place. "Stay in the forest," he muttered bitterly. "Fight the beasts, claim the Tree, hunt the Spirit. All of it ties me here, like chains around my ankles. Why? Why does the system want me bound to this cursed land?" He shook his head, his radioactive glow intensifying for a moment before dimming again. "It''s too convenient. The missions all focus on consolidating power here, but what about beyond? What about the elves?" His voice lowered, almost a whisper now, as though speaking the word aloud might summon them. "Their symbiotic magic, their strength¡­ their connection to this land. They''re not just an alliance; they''re the key to true dominion." He bared his teeth in a grimace. "The system doesn''t even mention them. Not once. Either it doesn''t know, or it doesn''t want me to know. And that''s reason enough to tread carefully." Volk''s mind drifted to the elusive elves. Their magic was unlike anything else¡ªa fusion of nature and power, symbiotic and potent. The rumors of their culture, their partnerships, their unions¡­ it all pointed to strength beyond mere numbers. "They''re not just allies," Volk murmured, his eyes gleaming. "They''re partners. Wives. Power shared through bonds. If I can find them, if I can forge that connection¡­ I won''t just rule this forest. I''ll rule everything beyond it." The thought stirred a fire within him, a vision of a future where his power was unmatched, where the elves stood at his side, their magic intertwining with his radioactive might. But the system''s silence on their existence was glaring. "The system wants me distracted," Volk growled. "Tied up in missions that keep me from the real prize. But I won''t be its pawn. I''ll find the elves. I''ll claim what''s mine. And I''ll do it on my terms." Volk''s steps grew heavier, more deliberate, as his resolve solidified. He shook his head, the tension in his brow easing as his lips curled into a faint, defiant smirk. "I can''t take a mission this time," he muttered, his voice low but firm. "Not when the real prize lies beyond the system''s reach. Let it dangle its rewards. Let it scheme and plot. I''ll play my own game." With that, Volk raised his head, his glowing eyes scanning the path ahead. The horde behind him moved with renewed energy, sensing their leader''s unwavering determination. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation, as Volk marched forward¡ªone step closer to claiming his destiny. Chapter 279 - 279: Nothing Volk led the march, his massive form towering over the Orcs and Ogres who followed in disciplined silence. The rhythmic thud of countless feet echoed through the dense forest, a steady drumbeat to the otherwise still air. Despite the powerful energy that seemed to radiate from the group, Volk''s brow furrowed deeper with every step, his glowing eyes narrowing as an uneasy sensation wormed its way into his chest. At first, it was faint¡ªnothing more than an itch at the edge of his consciousness. He ignored it, chalking it up to his earlier defiance of the system. Refusing the missions was an act of rebellion, a rejection of the very thing that had promised him power. "It''s just paranoia," he told himself, his voice low, as though saying it aloud would banish the thought. But as they marched, the sensation grew stronger. It gnawed at him like an insidious whisper in the back of his mind, quiet yet persistent. Volk''s heavy boots sank into the soil with every step, but the sound of his march began to feel¡­ distorted. Wrong. Each stride seemed to carry weight beyond the physical, as though unseen chains were forming around his ankles. The gnawing intensified. Volk clenched his fists, the radioactive energy beneath his skin flaring in response to his agitation. His hulking frame remained steady, his expression stoic, but inwardly, a subtle panic began to scratch at the corners of his mind. "What is this?" he muttered under his breath. The Orc beside him glanced up briefly before looking away, knowing better than to question their leader''s private musings. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s senses were razor-sharp, honed by years of bloodshed and survival, and yet, this¡­ this was different. It wasn''t an enemy''s presence he could crush. It wasn''t the sting of an incoming blow or the crackle of magic he could counter. This was something intangible, crawling through his thoughts like a shadow lurking just beyond his sight. It felt like eyes¡ªdozens, hundreds, thousands of unseen eyes¡ªbearing down on him. Watching him. Judging him. Waiting for something. The march continued. The sound of rustling leaves grew louder, more oppressive. The canopy above seemed to stretch and close in, blocking out more and more of the sky. The air itself thickened, as if resisting their passage. Volk''s breaths came heavier, though not from exertion. His radioactive energy buzzed more erratically now, flaring in jagged bursts that rippled through the ranks like shockwaves. Still, the feeling remained. Punishment? The thought crept back into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome: Will there be a punishment? The system had been quiet. Too quiet. It hadn''t chastised him for refusing the missions. It hadn''t issued another prompt or tried to tempt him back into compliance. The silence was worse than any reprimand. Volk growled low, his sharp teeth grinding together. "Why does it feel like I''ve broken something?" he murmured to himself. His radioactive glow flared briefly, illuminating his face with a sickly green hue. Punishment. He rolled the word around in his mind like bitter poison. The system had always promised rewards, power, growth¡ªbut what if its benevolence masked a sharper edge? What if his rebellion came at a cost? Was he about to pay for his arrogance? Volk glanced at his surroundings, half-expecting to see something¡ªanything¡ªemerge from the trees. A beast sent to drag him down. A force to crush him for daring to deny the system''s guidance. The gnawing in his chest grew stronger, spreading outward like cracks in a wall. Time stretched. The march grew longer, endless. Every minute dragged into hours, or perhaps it only felt that way. Volk wasn''t sure anymore. The air grew heavier with each step, as though the very atmosphere was pressing down on him. His glowing eyes darted toward the forest edge, searching for signs of movement. Nothing. Still nothing. The gnawing became unbearable. It wasn''t just in his chest anymore¡ªit was everywhere. Crawling through his veins. Scratching at his mind. Clawing at his bones. His muscles tensed involuntarily, the energy in his body surging in fits and starts, pulsing erratically like a heartbeat gone mad. Volk''s jaw clenched, his mind racing. "Is this the punishment? To make me feel hunted, to break me before it even strikes?" His radioactive aura flared suddenly, a wave of heat radiating outward. The Orcs and Ogres nearest to him stumbled slightly but quickly recovered, silent in their discipline. None dared ask their leader what was wrong. Volk didn''t stop walking. He refused to stop. To halt now would mean acknowledging that the unseen weight pressing down on him had won. "No," he growled, the word low and guttural. "You don''t own me. I refuse to bend." The gnawing intensified further, as though his defiance had provoked it. Every step felt heavier now. Each movement became a herculean effort, as if his limbs were wading through invisible tar. Volk''s vision swam briefly, dark shadows flickering at the edges. He blinked them away, forcing himself to focus. "This is nothing. NOTHING," he snarled aloud, his voice booming and echoing unnaturally through the forest. His radioactive glow flared brighter, green energy pulsing like an angry heartbeat. The forest itself seemed to recoil, the trees swaying slightly, as if bending away from his defiance. Yet the sensation didn''t leave him. It clung to him like a second skin, smothering, consuming, devouring. Volk''s footsteps slowed, just barely¡ªbut he noticed. "No¡­ I won''t¡­ I won''t stop!" His voice roared out, cutting through the silence like a blade. The gnawing sensation reached a crescendo. It was everywhere now, writhing inside him, tearing at his pride, mocking his resolve. For a fleeting moment, Volk almost expected the worst. For the ground to crack open beneath him. For the forest itself to rise up and strike him down. For his radioactive energy to implode, leaving him as nothing but ash. But then¡­ Nothing Happened The sensation stopped. It didn''t fade away gradually. It didn''t ease into silence. It simply¡­ ceased. Volk froze mid-stride, his entire body tensed and ready for something¡ªanything¡ªto happen. His radioactive glow pulsed faintly, confused, flickering like a sputtering flame. Silence. He stood still, his ears straining for any sound, any sign that the forest had turned against him. But there was nothing. Just the rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant chirp of an unseen bird. Volk blinked. His glowing eyes narrowed suspiciously, his sharp teeth bared in a low growl. "That''s it?" he said, his voice echoing faintly through the trees. "Nothing?" A strange mix of relief and irritation surged through him, clashing like oil and water. He let out a long breath, his chest rising and falling slowly as the tension bled from his muscles. The Orcs and Ogres around him dared not speak, but they sensed it too. Whatever had just happened was over. Volk straightened, shaking his head as though trying to clear the lingering unease. "Hmph," he grunted, resuming his march with a deliberate stride. "It was nothing." Yet, in the back of his mind, Volk couldn''t shake the thought: Was it really nothing? Chapter 280 - 280: Horn Volk marched at the head of the column, his enormous, hulking frame cutting through the forest like an unstoppable force. The Orcs and Ogres followed in orderly silence behind him, their synchronized steps a steady drumbeat, almost hypnotic in its rhythm. For a while, everything felt¡­ still. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk couldn''t quite describe it. A strangeness lingered in the air, a feeling he couldn''t shake. It wasn''t the gnawing sensation from before. That maddening itch¡ªthe weight of unseen eyes¡ªhad vanished as abruptly as it came. Now, in its place, there was something else. Something¡­ tranquil. Peace. Volk''s radioactive energy, which had been flaring and rippling in angry bursts moments before, softened into a quiet glow. The forest, once oppressive and suffocating, now felt¡­ calm. The air felt lighter. Even the rhythmic thud of boots against dirt became softer, less menacing. For the first time in what felt like ages, Volk''s thoughts weren''t clawing at the edges of his mind. Volk frowned slightly, his sharp teeth clenching and unclenching as he mulled over the sensation. Peace? It was something he knew but chose to forget. Now, he believed is shouldn''t be something that he should had ever allowed himself to feel. For Volk, there should always be violence now. Rage. Power. A leader. A conqueror. A destroyer. And yet, here he was, walking beneath a canopy of ancient trees, the soft glow of light filtering through the branches. The air was still. The world was still. It was as if the very forest had breathed out a long-held sigh, and the weight of all that had transpired¡ªGerhardt''s fall, the clash of mages, the System''s silent pressure¡ªsimply¡­ melted away. Volk didn''t trust it. He cast a glance over his shoulder. The Orcs and Ogres marched with perfect discipline, their focus unwavering, but even they seemed different. Their faces, hardened and war-worn, looked strangely at ease. Their breathing was steady. Their eyes were calm. Volk''s glowing gaze flickered back to the path ahead. "Peace," he muttered to himself, the word bitter on his tongue. He spat it out like bile. "Why does it feel like a trap?" And yet¡­ the feeling persisted. The trees stretched endlessly around them, their branches swaying gently, as though cradling the world in a delicate embrace. Leaves drifted lazily from above, spinning in the quiet air before settling on the ground. Even the sounds of nature¡ªbirds chirping, the rustle of unseen creatures¡ªseemed muted, distant, like echoes in an empty hall. Volk''s steps slowed just a fraction, his massive boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the cool, clean air. The stillness was¡­ soothing. For the first time, Volk realized how tired he felt. Not physically¡ªhis body was a forge of raw strength and radioactive energy¡ªbut in his mind. His thoughts, always sharp and buzzing with purpose, now floated aimlessly, like leaves drifting on a calm river. It was so unnatural. His brow furrowed deeply as his glowing eyes narrowed at the trees around him. The peace was a trick, it had to be. Nothing in his world was ever this still. This quiet. This¡­ gentle. "What is this feeling?" he growled to himself. His voice, low and gravelly, broke the silence like a rock striking still water. It echoed faintly, swallowed quickly by the forest. The marching continued behind him, but even the sound of his army seemed softer now, muffled, almost dreamlike. Volk''s mind wandered. His thoughts drifted to memories long buried¡ªmoments of stillness he had never allowed himself to dwell on. The quiet before a battle. The strange calm that always came when he stood over a conquered enemy. And now, this¡ªthis maddening peace that made him feel¡­ vulnerable. The sensation only deepened as they marched. The air became so still that Volk could hear his own heartbeat, slow and steady, thudding against his chest like a distant war drum. His radioactive energy had dulled to a faint hum, pulsing quietly beneath his skin. His enormous muscles, always primed for combat, began to feel unnaturally loose, relaxed. Volk shook his head, trying to break free of the strange lull that surrounded him. His sharp teeth clenched harder. "What is this sorcery?" he muttered, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. The forest offered no answers. The wind refused to respond. Even the shadows seemed to stretch a little farther, blanketing the path ahead in a serene darkness. Volk''s grip tightened on the hilt of his massive blade. The weapon felt heavy in his hand¡ªunfamiliar, as though it belonged to someone else. That was when he realized the truth: The peace was a weight in itself. It wasn''t the crushing, suffocating weight of the System''s pressure. It wasn''t the gnawing anxiety of unseen punishment. This was different. It was a smothering stillness that seeped into the soul, a calm so profound it began to feel oppressive. Volk could almost hear it¡ªsomething whispering beneath the quiet. A lullaby, faint and haunting, carried on the unmoving air. "No," Volk growled, his voice breaking the calm again. "This is not real. It cannot be real." The march stretched on. Time lost all meaning. Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes stretched into hours. Volk began to wonder if he would ever escape the stillness, if this peace would stretch on forever, swallowing him whole. The air grew heavier with every step, pressing down on his shoulders like invisible hands. The edges of his vision blurred slightly, as though the very world was softening, folding in on itself. "Enough," Volk hissed, his patience finally splintering like cracked stone. He came to a halt, his massive body rigid with tension, his glowing eyes scanning the forest around him. The Orcs and Ogres behind him stopped as well, confused, but silent. Volk glared into the trees, his radioactive energy flaring faintly in warning. The glow pulsed like a heartbeat, sharp and jagged, fighting against the smothering stillness that surrounded them. For a moment, the peace deepened. The silence pressed harder. Volk''s teeth ground together as his grip tightened further. Then¡ª A horn. It came from nowhere, splitting the air like a lightning strike. A deep, echoing blare that rolled through the forest like a shockwave. The sound hit Volk like a physical force, snapping him back to reality. His radioactive glow flared bright and wild, shattering the last remnants of the peace. The forest erupted into motion. Birds scattered from the canopy. The shadows stretched and twisted. The horn sounded again, louder this time, its call vibrating deep in Volk''s chest. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his grin sharp and predatory. "There it is," he rumbled, his voice filled with renewed vigor. The stillness was gone. Peace was shattered. The hunt was on. Chapter 281 - 281: From above The forest had erupted into chaos. The unnatural peace that once weighed on them was now gone, replaced by a cacophony of sound and movement that sent shivers down spines and rattled bones. Volk stood at the head of his massive horde, his radioactive glow flaring brighter in warning as his sharp gaze snapped upward. From above, a howling wind began to sweep through the canopy. The air itself seemed to grow claws. Leaves scattered like startled birds, spinning through the air as though desperate to flee. Then¡ª WHOOSH. Something streaked down from the sky, slicing through the branches with deadly precision. A single, blackened shape whistled as it fell, followed by an explosive BOOM that sent dirt and debris flying into the air. An Ogre roared as it stumbled back, its armored flesh now dotted with long, thin gashes where the wind itself had struck. Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed into slits. "What was that?" Soon, the Sky Darkens It began slowly, subtly, like the first drops of rain before a storm. More shapes¡ªdark and darting¡ªcut through the air above them, their speed so great they blurred against the sky. No one could make out what they were, but they moved with purpose, circling like birds of prey. Then the wind came. SHRRRK! The first gust hit with the force of a whip. It wasn''t a natural breeze¡ªno, this was magic, a slicing torrent of wind that tore at their ranks. An unlucky Orc near the front staggered back, howling in pain as blood sprayed from his shoulder where the wind had cut him like a blade. "RAISE YOUR SHIELDS!" Volk bellowed, his deep, commanding voice booming like thunder through the clearing. His command echoed above the chaos, a clear order in the midst of confusion. The attack intensified. More unseen forces¡ªWHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH¡ªbegan to rain down from above. Each streaking shape brought devastation: strange objects that struck the ground like stones hurled by giants, exploding into bursts of dirt and shrapnel. "What IS THIS!?" roared an Ogre, his voice shaking with confusion and pain as another magical gust swept past, slicing through his massive arm. Blood sprayed, and his roar turned to a pained growl as he dropped to one knee. Volk''s eyes darted through the chaos. He still couldn''t see the attackers. Were they beasts? Mages? Or some new, unseen foe? The creatures above were swift¡ªtoo swift to follow with the eye¡ªand their wind magic struck from all angles, unpredictable and relentless. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The ground itself was turning into a death zone. THUD. Another projectile struck the earth, shaking the ground beneath their feet. An unlucky Orc near the impact site was flung back like a rag doll, his body broken and crumpled. Ogres, massive as they were, stumbled as the shockwaves reached them. And still¡ª SHRRAAAK! The slicing wind magic continued, cutting through their flesh in thin, jagged lines. At first, the wounds seemed shallow, but they burned. They stung. Blood poured freely, turning the forest floor a dark, wet red. Volk''s radioactive energy flared violently. His glowing aura pulsed like an angry heartbeat, illuminating the chaos around him. His sharp teeth ground together as he surveyed his faltering horde. His army was powerful¡ªOgres, Orcs, brutes of the battlefield¡ªbut this attack was insidious. It came from above, from unseen enemies who struck with speed and precision. "SHIELDS!" Volk roared again, his voice echoing with wrath. "DEFENSIVE FORMATION!" The Orcs obeyed immediately. Barking in their guttural tongue, they locked their shields together in a tight, overlapping wall of iron and wood. The Ogres followed suit, using their massive, armored forearms to shield themselves and crouching low, forming makeshift barriers of flesh and stone. The sound of wind magic slicing through the air became deafening. Each gust slammed against the shields like an invisible hammer, sending vibrations through the ranks. The Orcs grunted under the force of each strike, their muscles straining to hold their ground. "STAY LOW!" Volk barked, his voice like iron. He planted his feet firmly in the ground, his massive form unmoving as the wind whipped past him. "HOLD YOUR POSITIONS! THEY CANNOT BREAK US!" But even as Volk commanded, his mind raced. The attacks weren''t stopping. If anything, they were growing stronger. The wind''s fury became sharper. The streaking projectiles fell faster, harder, each explosion shaking the very earth beneath their feet. Volk clenched his fists, his radioactive power rippling wildly around him like a storm barely contained. Who were these attackers? How were they so coordinated? He didn''t know. For all his experience, for all his strength, this was something new. He could feel it¡ªtheir intent. Whoever was up there wasn''t just attacking. They were testing him. Testing them. The slicing winds weren''t fatal, not yet. The falling projectiles were aimed to scatter, to injure, to overwhelm¡ªnot to kill. Volk''s brow furrowed deeply, his eyes glowing brighter with rage. "They''re toying with us," he muttered under his breath, his voice a growl. Another shockwave rocked the ground, and another Ogre roared in pain, his massive back struck by the brunt of the attack. The shield formation was holding, but just barely. The Orcs crouched low, teeth gritted, as their shields buckled under the repeated pressure of the attacks. Blood dripped from cuts and gashes where the wind had found its way through. Some shields began to splinter, their wood cracking with every impact. The Ogres fared no better. Though their bodies were enormous and their skin like armor, the constant barrage was wearing them down. They growled, they cursed, but they did not falter. Volk stood tall in the center of it all. His radioactive aura flared brighter and brighter, its sickly glow searing into the darkness. His fists clenched tighter as his teeth bared into a snarl. "IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE?!" Volk roared at the unseen attackers, his voice splitting through the chaos like a jagged bolt of lightning. His challenge echoed through the forest, daring whatever was up there to show itself. The wind answered. Another slicing gust swept past him, tearing a line across his cheek. The cut was shallow, but it stung. Volk''s radioactive glow flared in anger. The horde continued to hold, but Volk knew their options were dwindling. The attacks were unrelenting. Their shields were their only defense, but how long could they hold out? How long before exhaustion set in? How long before the enemy struck in earnest? Volk growled low in his throat, his glowing eyes scanning the sky, searching for answers. His mind raced through possibilities, through plans, but every option felt thin, desperate. For now, all they could do was hold. The wind howled again, the projectiles fell faster. Volk realized something, is this a curse of that human? Is it the beginning? Or the system punishment to him? Chapter 282 - 282: Arrogant Birds The air grew thick with an eerie tension as the barrage of attacks slowed to a halt. The slicing winds became softer, the storm of projectiles ceased, and for the first time since the chaos began, the forest held its breath. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of disturbed leaves and the pained groans of Ogres and Orcs alike as they steadied themselves. Volk''s radioactive glow dimmed slightly as his sharp gaze shot upward. Through the clearing smoke and debris, a shadow emerged against the gray sky¡ªgraceful and yet mocking. Wings, broad and feathered, flapped with a smooth rhythm, keeping the figure aloft as it began its descent. Slowly, deliberately, the creature came into view: a male harpy, his long, sharp talons curled beneath him, his lithe body draped in dark feathers that shimmered faintly under the dim light. His face, human-like but unnervingly angular, wore an expression of open disdain¡ªa smug sneer stretched across his lips as his glowing, yellow eyes locked onto Volk. Volk straightened to his full height, standing like an unshakable colossus at the center of his horde. His fists unclenched, though his aura still flickered with dangerous energy. He tilted his head, his voice low and commanding as it echoed through the tense clearing. "Why are you attacking us?" The harpy didn''t answer right away. He landed softly on the ground, talons sinking into the earth as his wings folded behind him. He straightened his back, his smirk deepening as he looked Volk up and down, clearly unimpressed despite the immense radioactive power that crackled off the Orc leader. Finally, the harpy spoke, his voice high and sharp, like wind whistling through blades. "Because you and your horde are disgusting." The words hung in the air, poisonous and deliberate. Volk''s expression darkened, his glowing eyes narrowing into furious slits. Around him, the Orcs growled low in their throats, fists tightening around their weapons, teeth bared in a mix of pain and anger. Even the injured Ogres, still steadying themselves, glared toward the feathered figure, their breaths heavy and seething. Volk let the harpy''s insult hang for a moment, as if tasting its weight. His radioactive aura began to hum again, low and ominous, like the beginnings of an earthquake. "Disgusting?" Volk repeated, his voice gravelly and cold. "Do you think us weak? Do you think us beneath you?" The harpy tilted his head mockingly, his yellow eyes glowing faintly in amusement. "I think you''re a stain on this land. Like filth that needs to be washed away." Volk''s lips peeled back into a feral grin, revealing rows of jagged teeth. His voice dropped even lower, carrying with it the weight of a threat as old as war itself. "Keep testing me, bird." Volk''s tone was soft, dangerous. "If you and your kind keep toying with us, I will make you regret it. We will hunt you¡ªall of you¡ªfrom the skies. We''ll drag you from your perches and rip your wings off your backs. One by one. Until not a single feathered corpse remains." The harpy blinked once¡ªslowly¡ªand then smiled. It wasn''t a kind smile, nor one of fear. It was cold, cruel, a predator''s grin that matched Volk''s own. He took a step forward, talons digging deeper into the dirt, his wings flexing behind him as though preparing for flight. "Do what you see fit, monster," the harpy hissed, his voice laced with venom. "Because we will do the same to you and every last one of your kind." Volk''s glow pulsed once, a dangerous surge of energy, but the harpy didn''t flinch. Instead, he spread his wings wide, feathers snapping out like blades. The air whipped around him again, carrying a faint hum of magic as if the wind itself bent to his will. Then he laughed¡ªhigh, sharp, and mocking¡ªbefore launching himself back into the sky. The sudden rush of air sent dust spiraling, and in seconds, the harpy was gone, vanishing into the canopy above. Volk watched him disappear, his grin fading into a deep scowl. His fists clenched, and the air around him shimmered with radioactive tension as his army began to regroup behind him. The injured Ogres groaned. The Orcs muttered curses under their breaths. Volk''s gaze lingered on the sky, glowing eyes searching the horizon. The harpy''s words echoed in his mind, stoking the embers of a deeper fury. "We''ll see who gets hunted," Volk muttered to himself, his voice a low growl. And somewhere above, unseen in the swirling clouds, the harpies waited¡ªwatching, mocking, and ready. The sky darkened¡ªnot from clouds or the passage of the sun, but from a constant swarm of attackers that swooped and whirled above Volk and his battered horde. The harpies had returned. Dozens, maybe hundreds, their silhouettes like jagged shadows cutting through the gray. Wings flapped in unison, their sharp cries echoing across the battlefield as if the air itself was screaming. From the heavens, they rained down chaos. Sharp gusts of slicing wind whirled like invisible blades, shredding armor, gouging flesh, and slicing at exposed skin. Volk stood at the center of it all, his towering figure still unyielding, but even he could feel the shift in the air¡ªlike a storm that refused to relent. "DEFEND YOURSELVES!" Volk''s voice thundered, booming louder than the howling winds that tore through his ranks. The Orcs roared in response, their war cries defiant, but their movements desperate. Shields were raised in shaky formations, their iron surfaces scraping and screeching against each other as the winds battered them relentlessly. Even the Ogres, their massive bodies hunched and scarred, curled into makeshift barriers of flesh and stone, planting their weapons into the earth to anchor themselves. Yet the storm did not stop. The harpies circled above like vultures with a cruel intelligence, their attacks synchronized, their strikes deliberate. From the skies, they hurled jagged stones, imbued with swirling currents of wind magic that made them fall with terrifying speed¡ªeach projectile crashing into the horde with earth-shaking impact. BOOM! An Ogre groaned as a stone struck his shoulder, splintering his bone with a sickening crack. The massive beast collapsed to his knees, trembling as he tried to lift his club again. CRASH! An Orc screamed as he was hurled backward, a wind blade severing the shield he clutched in two before tearing through his side. He fell, twitching, blood pooling into the trampled dirt. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s brow furrowed, his glowing radioactive aura intensifying as he ground his teeth together in fury. "HOLD THE LINE!" he bellowed, his voice breaking through the chaos. But there was no line to hold. The harpies'' tactics were relentless and maddening. They swooped low, talons outstretched, dragging Orcs from the ranks and hurling them into the air like broken dolls. Bodies twisted and flailed, falling back to the ground in sickening thuds that made Volk''s fists tighten. Worse yet, whenever the horde tried to counterattack¡ªhurling spears, shooting arrows, or bellowing war cries¡ªthe harpies simply ascended higher, their mocking laughter echoing like ghostly whispers across the battlefield. And still, the wind did not relent. Chapter 283 - 283: Missions Volk squinted upward as he saw it again¡ªanother wave. This time, the harpies carried with them sharpened javelins, glinting cruelly as they hovered ominously over the horde like reapers in the clouds. Volk''s jaw tightened. "SHIELDS UP!" he roared. Orcs scrambled, raising battered shields above their heads, forming makeshift domes of steel and bone. The Ogres growled, hunching their massive bodies over their smaller kin in a show of unity. The harpies struck. FWOOOOOSH! The first wave of javelins fell, hurtling down like deadly rain. The impact was monstrous. Shields splintered. Screams erupted as the deadly projectiles pierced through armor, embedding themselves deep into flesh. BOOM! BOOM! CRASH! Volk''s glowing fists pulsed as he swatted an oncoming javelin out of the air with a swing so powerful that it sent shockwaves across the dirt. But the attacks kept coming, each one breaking away more of their already fraying defenses. All around him, his army crumbled piece by piece. An Orc near Volk let out a final roar as he was impaled through the chest, his shield useless against the unrelenting barrage. Blood sprayed into the air, hot and red against the pale gray sky. Volk felt his rage boil as he turned his gaze upward, staring at the circling harpies, their mocking screeches drilling into his ears. He couldn''t reach them¡ªnot from here. And that fact gnawed at his pride, sinking its claws deep. "Cowards," Volk growled under his breath, his radioactive aura flaring outward with every furious pulse of his body. The earth beneath him cracked as his power intensified, but he knew even his might couldn''t break the skies. More harpies descended in quick swoops, claws lashing at exposed throats, backs, and limbs. Some Orcs fell outright, others staggered, screaming as blood sprayed in arcs. The winds howled louder, as if the harpies themselves were commanding the very air to suffocate Volk''s forces. Suddenly, Volk caught sight of another attack incoming¡ªa storm of wind magic condensed into spinning vortexes. These attacks carved through the ground like blades, tearing up dirt and flinging Orcs aside as if they weighed nothing. Volk''s fists trembled at his sides. He gritted his teeth as he forced himself to remain calm. Think, think, think! Their options were diminishing. The harpies were too high to strike with physical weapons, and magic defenses barely lasted against their unrelenting attacks. "FOCUS ON DEFENSE!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the storm like a whip. "TURTLE DOWN UNTIL THEY TIRE!" It wasn''t a strategy he relished¡ªdefense had never been Volk''s style. But right now, survival outweighed pride. The Orcs obeyed. Shield domes formed again, bodies clustered tightly together beneath layers of iron and skin. The wounded were dragged into the center of the formations. Ogres, their massive bodies riddled with gashes and embedded projectiles, formed a final, outer barrier, their broad backs shielding their smaller brethren. The storm raged on. THWACK! A javelin pierced an Ogre''s shoulder, sinking deep. The beast grunted but didn''t fall. FWOOOOOSH! Another wind blade slashed across an Orc''s shield, leaving a gouge the width of a fist. Volk planted himself at the front, arms raised high, his radioactive energy radiating like a beacon of defiance. The air around him shimmered with heat and raw power, and even as the winds pushed against him, he stood firm, a mountain amidst a hurricane. The harpies continued their assault, but Volk could see the first hints of hesitation in their movements. Their cries seemed more frustrated now¡ªless mocking, more impatient. They wanted Volk and his forces to break. But they hadn''t broken. Not yet. Volk grinned through gritted teeth. "Is that all you''ve got, cowards?" he snarled toward the skies. And then¡ª Ding! The sound cut through the chaos like a bell tolling in the distance. Volk froze, his glowing eyes narrowing as the familiar notification rang in his head. Then he smiled. --- [New Missions Available] 1. Scare Off the Harpies (Minimal Conflict) Objective: Force the harpies to retreat through sheer intimidation. Reward: Partial Map to Orzaroth (Section 1 of 4). Failure: You and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 2. Kill 25 Harpies Objective: Eliminate at least 25 harpies. Reward: Partial Map to Orzaroth (Section 2 of 4). Failure: You and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 3. Kill 100 Harpies Objective: Eliminate a significant portion of the harpy flock. Reward: Partial Map to Orzaroth (Section 3 of 4). Failure: You and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 4. Kill the Harpy Commander Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Objective: Defeat the harpy leader orchestrating the attack. Reward: Full Map to Orzaroth. Failure: You and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 5. Exterminate the Harpy Flock Objective: Wipe out the entire harpy population attacking you. Reward: Map to Orzaroth + Elven Refugee Token. Failure: You and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. 6. Capture a Harpy Alive Objective: Capture one harpy without killing it. Reward: Harpy''s Whistle (Summons harpies for limited assistance). Failure: You and your forces remain stranded on the human continent for three years. --- Volk''s radioactive glow pulsed faintly as he stared at the screen, jaw clenched tightly. The windstorm screeched around him, waves of dust and debris swirling violently against his massive figure. His thoughts churned like molten stone. "Three years¡­?!" The mere idea gnawed at him, like chains slamming shut around his neck. Staying stranded here¡ªin the miserable human lands, surrounded by the constant threat of death and no path forward¡ªwas unacceptable. Three years was a lifetime in a war, in a march, in a leader''s journey. His Orcs would stagnate, their morale crushed under the weight of futility. He growled low in his throat, his sharp teeth grinding together like iron. "Scare off the harpies?" The easiest mission. Volk almost laughed. How could he scare an enemy that was raining death from the skies, laughing as they did so? These harpies weren''t frightened prey. They were predators¡ªagile, untouchable, and taunting. To scare them off without shedding their blood would require overwhelming intimidation¡­ but Volk''s forces were already battered. His warriors were struggling just to shield themselves. A show of power would require resources Volk didn''t want to waste. "No," Volk muttered, voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Weak leaders scare off their enemies. Strong leaders end them." "Kill 25 harpies?" A reasonable challenge. Twenty-five was a small dent in their numbers, enough to turn the tide and force a retreat. But Volk frowned, his glowing gaze narrowing as he calculated the risks. It would require breaking their defensive formation¡ªsending his Orcs out into the open, where harpy talons and wind blades could tear through their ranks like wheat before the scythe. The cost in lives would be steep. Is a quarter of the map worth it? Volk thought bitterly. "Kill 100 harpies." This was an escalation¡ªa bloodbath waiting to happen. If his forces were already struggling to survive a relentless storm, how could they hope to eliminate a hundred of the winged fiends? Even if they succeeded, their losses would cripple the horde, leaving them vulnerable for the journey ahead. Volk''s pride bristled at the thought of the harpies grinding his army down through sheer attrition. "Damnable birds," Volk spat. "Kill the Harpy Commander." Now this mission¡­ Volk''s eyes glinted darkly. If he could strike at their leader, it would send the entire flock spiraling into disarray. A decapitated force was a broken force, and Volk understood that better than anyone. This was his favorite option¡ªquick, decisive, brutal. But there was a problem: the Harpy Commander was undoubtedly hidden. Somewhere high above the battlefield, beyond reach, watching his forces like a spider in its web. Volk clenched his fists. Reaching the leader would require a solution¡ªsome way to defy the skies. "Could we¡­" Volk paused, his mind spinning. He''d need magic, catapults, something to bring the harpies to him. He filed the thought away for later. "Exterminate the harpy flock." The boldest mission. The most rewarding. The map, plus the elven refugee token¡ªa diplomatic bargaining chip he desperately needed. If Volk could annihilate the harpies here, he would achieve absolute dominance over the battlefield, and his path to the elven lands would become clearer than ever before. But Volk was no fool. Extermination wasn''t a challenge. It was a war. To kill every single harpy meant outlasting them, breaking their will, and fighting to the very last. The cost in Orc lives would be devastating. Could they even survive such a battle? "Ambitious," Volk murmured, "but madness if unprepared. "Capture a harpy alive?" Volk''s brow furrowed. The strangest option. Why capture one? It wasn''t Volk''s style to take prisoners when he could leave behind corpses. Yet the Harpy''s Whistle was intriguing¡ªan item capable of summoning the very creatures currently attacking them. Turning enemies into tools? That was tempting. But how would they even capture a harpy? The moment his warriors lunged to grapple one, they''d be torn apart midair. The harpies would never allow themselves to be caught. "Risky. Impractical," Volk muttered. Chapter 284 - 284: To the Trees The wind roared like a living beast, its claws tearing through the air as the harpies continued their relentless assault. High above, dark, winged shapes twisted and dove, their talons gleaming like polished daggers, their wind spells slicing into flesh and armor alike. Volk''s forces were faltering. Ogres groaned under the pressure, Orcs bled through their teeth, shields trembling as the wind blasts beat against them like invisible war hammers. The cries of anguish mixed with guttural growls of defiance as Volk''s horde tried to hold their ground, but the air was a merciless enemy. Volk stood at the center of the chaos, unyielding, radiating raw power, his radioactive glow flickering erratically as his eyes narrowed. He watched his warriors suffer. He watched them bleed. And he would not allow this to continue. His fist shot into the air¡ªan immediate and commanding signal. The Orcs froze. The Ogres paused mid-groan. Even amidst the onslaught, Volk''s presence demanded obedience. His voice erupted like a thunderclap, louder than the windstorm itself, his orders booming across the battlefield. "TO THE TREES!" The command echoed, rolling over the horde like a wave of fire. At first, there was hesitation¡ªconfusion writ large across the battered faces of his soldiers. The Orcs blinked, panting, their shields shaking. The Ogres, already hunched from pain, glanced up at the twisted branches of the towering, ancient trees that ringed the field. "MOVE, YOU WORTHLESS MAGGOTS!" Volk roared, the force of his shout sending ripples through the ground itself. "The skies are death! HIDE in the heights! Go¡ªbefore I make you regret every breath you take!" The words were enough. Orcs, battered and bloody, scrambled into motion. Their shields clattered as they abandoned their positions, sprinting toward the line of colossal trees that bordered the battlefield. Towering giants of bark and branch, their limbs stretched toward the heavens like grasping claws¡ªold and gnarled, ancient sentinels of nature untouched by war. Ogres followed with heavy, limping steps, their massive frames dragging behind, shoulders hunched to shield themselves from the harpies'' deadly swoops. The air screamed with the sound of talons scraping steel, of wind magic crashing like invisible axes, but Volk''s forces moved with desperation. Volk stalked forward, his radioactive glow spreading like an ominous haze around him. "FASTER!" he barked, his voice cracking like a whip. "Or do you WANT to be picked apart like cattle?" The Orcs didn''t need telling twice. They reached the trees, weapons strapped to their backs, fingers clawing into rough bark as they began their frantic climb. The old trunks groaned under their weight as dozens¡ªhundreds¡ªof green-skinned warriors scrambled upward, disappearing into the shadows of the canopy. Branches creaked and snapped under the Ogres'' heavy hands as they dragged themselves into cover, growling with effort. Above, the harpies screeched. Their victory cry turned into something angrier, more frustrated, as their prey scattered beneath the protection of the forest. The dense foliage, like a fortress of nature, obstructed their view and disrupted their attacks. Wind blades sliced into branches, but they didn''t reach flesh. Volk''s lips curled into a grim smirk as he stalked to the forest''s edge, his radioactive glow flickering ominously as he watched his horde vanish into the shadows. Within the twisting labyrinth of branches, the Orcs found confidence again. They hid within the dense canopy, crouching on thick limbs, their breaths ragged but steady. The harpies'' slicing winds still echoed above, but they could not reach them. The Orcs grinned as they peered upward, their predator instincts slowly returning. For once, they were hidden¡ªunseen¡ªand in the shadows, they were dangerous. Some began to draw their bows. Others quietly fingered their axes, waiting. The Ogres clung to the lower branches, their heavy breaths shaking the leaves around them as they stared upward with narrowed eyes. Volk prowled through the dark undergrowth below, his footsteps thunderous despite his attempts to move quietly. His presence was unshakable. He moved from tree to tree, his sharp voice carrying up through the canopy as he addressed his warriors. "LISTEN CLOSELY," he growled, his tone low and full of dark promise. "We wait here. We think here. The skies are their strength¡ªbut they are also their weakness. Let them swoop. Let them taunt. We will not be cattle beneath their claws." The Orcs listened, their sharp eyes glinting from above. Volk could feel their morale rising, their confidence being rekindled. He paused at the base of one of the trees, his massive form still glowing faintly. He tilted his head upward, his crimson gaze burning through the shadows. "Be ready," Volk continued, his voice quieter now but no less commanding. "We are patient hunters. This is our ground now. The fools above cannot take what they cannot see. And when I give the signal¡ª" Volk''s grin widened, his teeth flashing. "¡ªwe drag them down, screaming." --- Volk leaned back against the gnarled trunk of a tree, the radioactive haze around him pulsing faintly in time with his breath. His muscles remained tense, his mind a storm of thoughts. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He needed a strategy. As strong as his forces were, the skies were untouchable, and brute strength alone would not win this battle. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, his massive frame still as stone. The gnawing weight of his earlier decision¡ªrejecting the system missions¡ªclawed at the back of his mind. He''d gambled on hiding, on biding his time, but he could not deny the danger his forces were in. "Is this enough?" he muttered to himself. Above, the harpies screamed in frustration, unable to find their quarry. Talons slashed fruitlessly at branches, wind magic shattered against bark, but it was all wasted effort. The horde remained hidden, silent hunters waiting in the dark. For now. --- Volk''s glowing eyes narrowed as he peered through the branches. This temporary respite would not last long, and he knew it. The harpies were intelligent. Persistent. They would find a way to flush them out¡ªso Volk needed to act first. He needed to think. The ground trembled faintly beneath his boots as he stepped forward, his gaze still upward, his mind spinning through possibilities. How could he reach them? How could he strike back? "Hiding won''t save us forever," Volk growled quietly to himself, more for his own ears than anyone else''s. "We''ll need to bleed them. But first¡ª" He exhaled deeply, the radioactive light around him pulsing brighter as his resolve hardened. "We think. We plan. And then we take their wings." High above, the harpies continued their search, screeching angrily into the dark canopy. But the horde waited, silent and deadly, like coiled vipers ready to strike. The forest had become their refuge. For now. Chapter 285 - 285: Nowhere to run The forest trembled. At first, it was subtle¡ªa faint rustling that could have been mistaken for the wind. The leaves shivered, and the branches swayed, their movements erratic and unnatural. A strange quiet settled over the hidden horde. The usual sounds of battle above¡ªthe screeching of harpies, the gusts of slicing wind¡ªseemed to dull, muffled by some invisible force. Volk''s brow furrowed. His glowing eyes scanned the canopy, sensing something amiss. The Orcs and Ogres in the branches froze, gripping their weapons tighter as an eerie tension seeped into the air, like the calm before a violent storm. Then it began. CRACK. A single, sharp sound echoed through the forest. A branch splintered violently above, falling with a slow, almost deliberate grace. The broken limb crashed to the ground, leaves scattering like droplets of blood. The Orcs glanced around, confused. Their nerves were taut. CRACK-CRACK. Another sound. Then another. Louder this time. Closer. Branches snapped and groaned in protest, their wood splintering with unnatural force. Leaves cascaded downward, fluttering like green snow, caught in erratic bursts of wind that shouldn''t have been there. "W-what''s happening?" one Orc muttered, his voice breaking the uneasy silence. Volk''s gaze snapped upward, his senses sharp. His radioactive glow intensified as his instincts screamed at him. Something was wrong. And then, the first tree fell. BOOOOOOOM! The earth shook with the impact. A mighty trunk, thicker than ten Orcs standing shoulder to shoulder, exploded at the base, sending it toppling like a titan brought low. Leaves and debris erupted into the air, choking the light and filling the canopy with chaos. The Orcs above screamed, clutching at branches as they swayed dangerously, nearly throwing them off. The Ogres on the lower limbs flinched, their massive hands gripping bark as the vibrations pulsed through the trees. One of them lost his balance, crashing to the ground below with a sickening THUD. Volk''s roar cut through the madness. "HOLD YOUR GROUND!" But it didn''t stop. CRAAAAAACK¡ªBOOOOOM! Another tree splintered and fell, its massive trunk shearing through smaller branches like a blade through flesh. The roots, ripped violently from the earth, sent cascades of soil and stones flying. The noise was deafening¡ªa primal symphony of snapping wood, collapsing giants, and screaming warriors. The Orcs could only watch helplessly as the forest, their shelter, turned against them. The canopy that once protected them now betrayed them, raining down destruction. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Leaves fell like a torrential downpour, their bright green turning black with dirt and blood. Volk''s eyes darted across the collapsing grove, trying to pinpoint the source of the destruction. His mind raced. What was causing this? The harpies? No. This was something else¡ªsomething bigger. "WHAT IN THE PIT IS HAPPENING?!" Volk bellowed, his voice shaking the branches near him. Above, the harpies circled, their laughter echoing like haunting bells. They weren''t attacking anymore¡ªthey were watching. Enjoying the spectacle. CRACK. BOOOOOM. CRACK. BOOOOOM. Tree after tree was ripped apart. Mighty trunks groaned as their ancient bodies gave way, shattered by some unseen force. Entire portions of the forest began to fall like dominos, their roots screaming as they were torn free from the earth. Ogres bellowed in confusion, their massive bodies forced to leap from collapsing branches. Some landed with crushing force, rolling to their feet with bloodied limbs. .Orcs clung to the swaying canopy, only to be thrown loose as their perch gave way beneath them. "VOLK! WHAT DO WE DO?!" an Orc screamed from above, his voice shrill and panicked. Volk''s hands curled into fists, his radioactive glow pulsing brighter¡ªan ominous beacon of his fury. "GET DOWN! EVERYONE¡ªON THE GROUND! NOW!" His command sent a ripple through the horde. Orcs scrambled down tree trunks, sliding and leaping in desperation. Ogres dropped like boulders, their massive frames crashing into the earth, shaking it anew. But the destruction wasn''t stopping. The falling trees were like a wave of annihilation, crashing closer, ever closer. It was as if the forest itself had turned into a living storm, tearing itself apart to devour them. Volk''s gaze whipped upward just in time to see a massive tree hurtling toward him. Its roots were still clinging to chunks of earth as it fell with terrifying speed. "MOVE!" Volk dove to the side just as the tree crashed into the ground, sending an earth-shaking shockwave that rippled outward. Dirt and debris exploded into the air, chunks of wood flying like shrapnel. Volk rolled to his feet, his radioactive glow now a searing blaze against the darkening chaos. The horde gathered on the ground, panting and bleeding, their numbers scattered amidst the debris. The air was thick with dust and falling leaves, the light dimmed by the storm of destruction. Volk stood at the center, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths. His glowing red eyes burned as he glared at the horizon, where the destruction seemed to have started¡ªan unseen force still tearing its way closer. The harpies were still above, circling like vultures, their mocking laughter echoing through the chaos. Volk could feel their gaze¡ªpiercing, judging¡ªas if they reveled in his struggle. "You think this will stop us?" Volk growled, his voice like a rumbling earthquake. "Is that it?! HAH! You cowards can burn this forest to the ground, and we''ll still find you! We''ll tear you out of the sky with our bare hands!" The harpies gave no reply. Only more laughter. But Volk felt it then¡ªa shift in the air. A gnawing sensation. The source of the destruction was close. Very close. The ground rumbled beneath his boots, faint at first, like distant thunder. His warriors felt it too, their eyes widening in terror as the earth trembled once more. Volk''s glare narrowed. He stood tall, unbroken, despite the chaos around him. "Whatever comes for us next, let it try," he growled to himself, his radioactive glow blazing brighter as he prepared for the unknown. The forest fell silent for a breath¡ªa single, fragile moment of calm. And then the next tree exploded. The destruction surged forward, unstoppable and hungry. Chapter 286 - 286: Cave The chaos seemed endless. The roaring winds above, the screeching laughter of the harpies, and the relentless destruction crashing through the forest were an orchestra of calamity. The horde¡ªOgres and Orcs alike¡ªwas caught in a storm of panic and fury, the ground trembling beneath them as trees shattered and fell like brittle bones. Leaves swirled in violent spirals, whipped up by unseen currents, coating the ground like a carpet of decay. Volk clenched his jaw as he surveyed the battlefield, his glowing red eyes flickering through the choking dust and debris. His horde was faltering. The once mighty Ogres, some already bruised and bloodied, were stumbling over toppled trunks and sinking into the disrupted earth. The Orcs, whose confidence had been unshakable mere minutes ago, were now shouting and snarling in desperation, leaping and darting to avoid falling debris and piercing attacks from above. "MOVE! KEEP MOVING!" Volk''s voice thundered through the chaos like a war drum, a beacon of authority cutting through the growing fear. But even as he barked orders, Volk knew the truth. This wasn''t sustainable. Above, the harpies soared through the darkened sky like malevolent wraiths, their wings slashing through the air as they unleashed their devastating wind magic. Each gust was a blade¡ªa merciless assault that could slice through flesh, tear apart armor, and leave deep wounds in the earth. FWOOSH. SLASH. The sound was incessant, an unending whistle of death as warriors fell to their knees, their bodies marred by wounds that sprayed blood like crimson mist. "AAAGHHH!" A nearby Orc stumbled, clutching his side where a deep gash had been carved. Another collapsed, his head whipping back from a sudden blow. Volk watched as a third Orc, attempting to sprint forward, was snatched mid-air by an unseen force¡ªhis limbs flailing wildly before a shrill screech echoed above and his body was hurled back down, shattering against a stone with a sickening CRUNCH. Volk growled, a deep, rumbling sound of frustration and fury. He could feel the harpies mocking him¡ªtheir screeches and laughter taunting his inability to strike back. His forces were exposed. Vulnerable. And every second that passed saw their numbers thinning further. The ground beneath Volk shuddered as another massive tree crashed down, exploding into splinters and broken bark that flew in every direction. The wind carried the smaller shards, slashing at exposed skin and armor alike. An Ogre beside him staggered as one of the larger fragments impaled his shoulder, sending the beast roaring in pain before dropping to one knee. "VOLK! WHAT DO WE DO?!" an Orc captain shouted over the din, his voice hoarse and panicked as he shielded his face from the storm of debris. Volk''s eyes narrowed. He felt the weight of their desperation, their fear clinging to him like a heavy chain. But beneath that, deep within, his fury burned. It blazed¡ªunrelenting, unstoppable, and ready to explode. He would not let this horde crumble beneath him. Not here. Not today. "SHIELD UP! FORM LINES! DON''T STOP MOVING!" he roared, his voice booming with such power that even the harpies above seemed to hesitate for a moment. "USE THE FALLEN TREES FOR COVER! ANYTHING! WE DO NOT BREAK! DO YOU HEAR ME? WE DO NOT BREAK!" The Orcs and Ogres scrambled to obey, their movements frantic but fueled by his words. They began clustering behind fallen trunks, using the shattered remains of the forest as makeshift barricades. The wind magic still struck hard, FWOOSH! SLASH!, but now it met the resistance of solid wood, leaving long scars across the bark rather than slicing flesh. Volk''s eyes darted toward the treetops, trying to spot the harpies amid the swirling dust and leaves. There had to be a way out of this. Every instinct in him screamed to keep moving, to find shelter, to outmaneuver their airborne tormentors. Staying here meant death¡ªeither by the harpies'' attacks or by the forest collapsing around them. Another gust of wind tore through the canopy, shattering branches like glass and sending sharp splinters raining down. Volk snarled, covering his face with one thick arm as the debris sliced shallow wounds across his forearm. "DAMN THEM!" An Ogre nearby, barely visible through the choking dust, bellowed as a falling branch crashed onto his back, driving him to the ground. The beast struggled, shaking the massive limb off his shoulders before rising again, blood streaking his gray skin. Volk growled, his patience fraying. His gaze flickered across the battlefield, searching, searching¡ªthere had to be something. A plan. An opening. A chance. "LOOK FOR COVER! FIND A PATH OUT OF THIS PLACE!" he barked to his horde, his voice rising above the chaos. The forest groaned as more trees splintered and fell, but Volk refused to give in to despair. He scanned the horizon, his glowing eyes cutting through the swirling dust and shadows. The air was thick, suffocating, and every breath burned with the taste of dirt and blood. He could hear his warriors shouting¡ªorders, curses, cries of pain¡ªas the harpies continued their relentless assault. Suddenly, through the haze, Volk saw it. A gap in the carnage. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A dark mouth carved into the earth, partially obscured by fallen trees and debris. It was a cave¡ªhidden, unassuming, but unmistakably there. The ground around it had been torn up, likely from the collapsing trees, revealing its entrance like a secret waiting to be discovered. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his mind snapping into focus. "THERE!" he roared, pointing a clawed finger toward the cave. "TO THE CAVE! NOW! ALL OF YOU! MOVE! MOVE!" The Orcs and Ogres hesitated for only a heartbeat before obeying. They surged forward, scrambling over fallen trunks and shattered branches, ducking beneath the relentless slashes of wind. Volk turned, his gaze snapping upward to where the harpies circled. Their silhouettes cut across the swirling dust like dark wraiths. He could feel their eyes on him, mocking, laughing¡ªas if they believed they had him cornered. But Volk grinned, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. "You''ll regret this." He turned and began running, his massive frame tearing through the battlefield as he led his horde toward the cave. The sound of harpy screeches followed him¡ªangry, frantic¡ªas if they had sensed his intent. The wind magic intensified, FWOOSH! SLASH!, but Volk did not falter. The cave loomed ahead, dark and gaping, a promise of refuge. And a chance. Volk''s mind raced as he sprinted forward, his boots pounding against the earth. He needed a plan. A way to strike back. A way to turn the tide. And as he dove into the shadowed mouth of the cave, he knew he would find it. One way or another. Chapter 287 - 287: Better idea The cave was dark, its vast walls swallowing the flickering torchlight and stretching into a shadowed abyss. The air inside was heavy, stale, and tinged with the metallic scent of blood. The horde of Orcs and Ogres had stumbled in, panting and injured, their massive frames huddled together in exhaustion. Deep gashes marred their limbs, jagged wounds oozing thick blood that pooled slowly on the cold stone floor. Every heavy breath they took echoed against the stone walls like low, mournful groans. For a time, there was only silence¡ªa crushing, oppressive silence¡ªbroken only by the faint whimpering of a wounded Orc who clutched his bleeding side. A single torch was thrust into the ground, its flame sputtering weakly as if it, too, might die out at any moment. Then, one of the larger Ogres stepped forward, his footsteps booming like distant thunder. His face was contorted in a mixture of pain and anger, a snarl curling his lips. He jabbed a thick, bloodied finger toward the rest of the horde. "ENOUGH! We can''t sit here like cowards!" His voice roared through the cave, shaking loose dust and pebbles from above. "They attacked us! They slaughtered our brothers! Are we going to let those winged bastards pick us apart and mock us? Huh? IS THAT WHAT WE ARE NOW?!" The gathered warriors let out low growls and murmurs of agreement, their collective anger simmering like lava beneath their wounded forms. Orcs muttered curses under their breath. Ogres pounded their fists into the stone floor, the vibrations carrying their frustration deeper into the cave''s depths. "Revenge," snarled a smaller but fierce-looking Orc captain, his tusks stained red from blood. "We take revenge. We don''t let this insult stand. Those birds won''t leave this cave alive once they come looking for us." "Aye! They''ll regret flying low enough to fight us!" Another voice joined in, a grizzled Orc warrior whose face was marred by deep scars and burns. His single remaining eye blazed with vengeance. "We trap this cave. Make it their grave. Bury them in stone and fire! They''ll choke on their own pride!" An Ogre at the back growled lowly. "Traps alone aren''t enough. Those harpies are fast, faster than we are. If we fight them in the open again, we''ll be cut down before we even see them coming. We can''t afford to lose more of our numbers." The crowd stirred at this, their murmurs turning more heated as disagreements broke out. "Then what do you suggest?!" barked one of the larger Orc captains, his thick arms crossed as he glared at the Ogre who spoke. "Sit here and wait to die? Because that''s all that''ll happen if we don''t strike back now." "No, you fool," snapped the Ogre, baring his jagged teeth. "We need to lure them inside. Trap them where their wings are useless. Once they''re in here, they''re ours. We''ll crush them. Break their bones with our hands. Rip their wings from their backs and hang their carcasses from the walls!" The Orcs erupted into approving snarls, their bloodlust momentarily overriding their exhaustion. "And how do we do that, huh?" someone shouted from the crowd. "How do we drag them in here? They''re cowards! They won''t fight us in tight spaces. They''ll just keep striking us from above!" A silence fell again, though this one was thick with tension. The problem was clear. The harpies had the advantage in speed and height. Even now, hiding in the cave, Volk''s horde was trapped¡ªcornered like prey, wounded, and bleeding out. Any misstep could see them wiped out entirely. "Smoke," suggested one of the quieter Orcs suddenly, stepping forward and catching the attention of the others. "We burn wood at the cave entrance. Thick smoke. Clouds they can''t see through. They''ll have to come inside or fly blind." A few heads nodded at this, but another Orc growled. "And what happens when they don''t come? Huh? When they just wait outside, circling us like vultures? We''ll die in here, choking on the same smoke we make! That''s suicide!" The tension boiled over as warriors began shouting over one another. Ideas and plans were hurled like spears, each one met with either snarls of agreement or scornful growls. "Collapse the entrance! Trap them inside with us! We''ll fight them to the last!" "No! Collapse the entrance and we''ll be buried too, idiot!" "Use bait! Send out scouts to lure them in! We''ll ambush them once they''re close enough!" "Too risky. We''re too weak. If they catch the scouts, they''ll slaughter them and come back for us anyway!" Back and forth the arguments raged, their voices bouncing off the stone walls in a cacophony of frustration and desperation. Volk sat silently through it all, his massive frame hunched forward on a rock at the cave''s center. His crimson eyes stared down at the floor, unblinking and unreadable, while the horde''s chaotic discussion swirled around him like a storm. Minutes passed. Perhaps an hour. The fire from the single torch crackled faintly, the only steady sound amidst the noise. The wounded groaned softly in the corners, their bodies tended to by others, but their fate seemed no better than the rest. Finally, the shouting began to die down. Exhaustion had crept into their voices¡ªdesperation taking its place. Many warriors slumped back against the stone walls, their initial fire replaced with wary determination. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "So traps it is, then," muttered the scarred Orc captain bitterly, spitting blood to the side. "We''ll rig the whole cave¡ªwalls, floor, even the ceiling. If those damn harpies follow us in here, they won''t live to see daylight again. We''ll crush them. Even if it''s the last thing we do." Grunts of agreement rippled through the group, and slowly, the warriors began to nod. It wasn''t perfect, but it was a plan¡ªa sliver of hope in the darkness. And then¡ª "Wait." Volk''s voice cut through the air like a blade, low and rumbling but full of an undeniable authority. The warriors froze mid-movement, all heads turning toward him. Volk slowly rose to his feet, his towering form casting a long, monstrous shadow across the cave floor. His red eyes gleamed faintly in the torchlight as he stared down at the gathered horde, his expression calm, controlled¡ªbut dangerous. "I have a better idea." The words were spoken softly, but they carried with them an ominous weight¡ªone that made even the fiercest warriors shift uneasily on their feet. For a moment, there was only silence. The sound of dripping blood echoed faintly in the distance, the only noise as Volk''s words settled over the group like a heavy fog. Then, quietly, Volk began to smile. Chapter 288 - 288: Plan The flickering torchlight cast shadows over Volk''s face as he stood tall amidst the wounded, weary horde. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, their sharp gleam cutting through the lingering darkness like shards of molten iron. The air in the cave was heavy¡ªso thick with tension that every ragged breath, every subtle movement of the wounded, seemed to press against the walls. The horde watched him with a mix of awe and uncertainty, their bloodied forms frozen in place as if the weight of his mere presence held them still. Volk tilted his head slightly, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips as his gaze swept across the horde. His voice came out deep, smooth, and deliberate¡ªeach word rolling like thunder, both calm and full of raw power. "Your plans are good." Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The warriors stirred slightly, pride flickering across their tired faces. It was rare for Volk to offer praise, and those two words carried the weight of a hundred compliments. He gestured toward the scarred Orc captain, his clawed hand slicing lazily through the air. "A trap. Simple, effective, and bloodthirsty. They follow us into the cave, and we collapse the ceiling over their heads. Quick death. Clean. Brutal. That''s how we like it, isn''t it?" The scarred captain grunted approvingly, his single eye flashing with a mixture of pride and bloodlust. The other Orcs and Ogres murmured in agreement. Volk turned to the smaller Orc strategist, who had suggested smoke and bait. His smirk softened slightly, though his tone remained as commanding as ever. "Smoke to blind them. Clever. We''ve never fought harpies before, and you''d use their speed against them. "Turn their skies into a graveyard of shadows where wings are useless, and their claws will grasp only empty air. You understand war well. Your mind is sharp." The Orc strategist puffed his chest out, a hint of pride replacing his earlier anxiety. He looked at his peers with a glare, as if daring them to challenge his brilliance. Volk didn''t stop there. His gaze shifted to the massive Ogre at the back¡ªthe one who had suggested luring the harpies inside and tearing them apart limb by limb. Volk''s smile turned predatory, a hint of menace curling at the edges of his lips. "And you. You want to rip them apart with your bare hands. To snap their bones. To dangle their wings from your fists like trophies. That''s the heart of a true warrior. The kind of ferocity that shakes the ground and tells the enemy their death is coming." The massive Ogre growled softly in approval, his chest rumbling like a dormant volcano ready to erupt. His fists clenched at his sides, itching for the fight Volk described. Volk slowly began pacing around the flickering torch, his enormous form casting shifting shadows across the cave walls. His voice grew heavier, darker¡ªfilling the silent chamber with a steady pulse of authority that wrapped around every soul like an iron chain. "All of you have thought well. Your blood burns with rage. Your minds scream for revenge. And your plans? They are solid. Worthy of this horde." A murmur of satisfaction rippled through the warriors, their shoulders squaring as they stood a little taller. Volk''s praise was rare, and the weight of his approval filled them with a fresh spark of energy¡ªraw and unrelenting, as if the very act of hearing his voice had reignited their will to fight. But just as quickly, Volk''s smirk vanished, replaced by a sudden, sharp snort. The sound echoed off the stone walls, jarring in its abruptness. His crimson eyes narrowed into slits, their glow intensifying as his face twisted into something like scorn. "But it''s not enough." The murmurs died instantly. Warriors blinked and stiffened, their pride faltering as they looked at him with uncertainty. Volk stepped forward, his heavy boots striking the stone floor like war drums. Each step resonated through the cave, his looming figure pulling their attention as if he were a force of nature itself. He raised his chin, his voice dropping into a slow, measured cadence that filled every crevice of the cavern. "You think the harpies will come here without caution? Without suspicion? They''re beasts of the sky. They strike from above, where they can watch us like prey. They''ve already seen us bleed. They''ve seen us run. They think we''re weak, broken, crawling into the shadows to lick our wounds." Volk let those words hang in the air, his gaze burning into every warrior before him. "And that is exactly what we must let them believe." The horde exchanged glances, their faces twisting in confusion. A few Orcs shifted uneasily, while the Ogres furrowed their brows, uncertain of what Volk was suggesting. One of the captains cleared his throat and stepped forward. "But Volk, if we hide¡ªif we let them think we''re weak¡ªthey''ll press their advantage. They''ll pick us off one by one." Volk''s crimson eyes flashed, and the captain immediately took a step back. Volk raised his fist, the sharp claws catching the torchlight as his voice grew colder, more calculated. "Listen to me." The cave seemed to freeze around him, his words snapping like a whip. "We will not lay our traps here. No, we will draw them in deeper. Further into the cave¡ªinto the abyss where light doesn''t reach, where they cannot use their speed. They will think we''ve fled¡ªtoo wounded, too broken to stand and fight. They will follow. And when they do, they will be walking into their own graves." A collective murmur rippled through the horde, understanding beginning to dawn on their faces. "But Volk," one of the Orc strategists called out hesitantly. "What if there''s¡­ something else deeper in the cave? What if we''re not alone in here?" The question hung heavy in the air, the shadows of the cave suddenly seeming darker, deeper¡ªas if they were listening, waiting. The horde shifted uneasily. Whispers of monsters and horrors hiding in uncharted places flickered through their minds. Volk stopped pacing. He turned toward the speaker, his expression unyielding, his red eyes blazing like coals pulled from the depths of a furnace. Slowly, Volk raised his fist, his massive hand clenching so tightly that the leather of his gauntlet groaned under the strain. The gesture alone sent a wave of reassurance through the horde¡ªa silent declaration of power and resolve. "Then we will kill it." The words were spoken with such finality, such raw confidence, that it shattered the lingering doubt in the air. Volk''s crimson eyes swept across his warriors, and he bared his teeth in a savage, dangerous grin. "If there''s a monster deep in this cave, we''ll tear it apart. We''ll rip it limb from limb and drink its blood if we have to. Nothing will stop us. Not the harpies. Not this cave. Not whatever darkness lies ahead. Because we are the horde. And we do not break." The horde erupted into a chorus of growls and snarls, their bloodlust reignited. Warriors slammed their weapons against the stone floor, the sound echoing through the cavern like a war chant. Ogres pounded their fists into their chests, their deep roars shaking the walls. The injured bared their teeth, pushing through their pain as they raised their fists in solidarity. Volk stood amidst the chaos, unmoving, unyielding¡ªthe storm at the center of it all. His crimson eyes burned brighter than ever, he was ready. Chapter 289 - 289: No traps The harpy warband circled the cavernous entrance like a flock of dark omens silhouetted against the twilight sky. Their wings sliced through the wind with rhythmic precision, carrying them effortlessly in wide, lazy arcs above the jagged maw of the cave. Their iridescent feathers shimmered faintly under the failing light, each beat of their wings scattering dust and debris into the air below. The hum of their gliding flight resonated faintly across the valley, an eerie whisper that underscored the stillness settling over the land. The harpy leader¡ªa tall, sinewy figure with charcoal-colored feathers streaked with silver¡ªhovered slightly above the others. His wings extended gracefully, his sharp talons curling and uncurling with agitation as his piercing yellow eyes fixed on the dark void of the cave''s entrance. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His gaze was predatory, scanning every shadow, every crevice, as though daring something within to make a move. And yet, nothing came. No movement. No sound. Just the yawning mouth of the cavern staring back at him like a beast lying in wait. The other harpies circled lower, gliding smoothly over the terrain as their sharp eyes combed through the brush, the boulders, and the faint tracks left behind by the Orcs and Ogres. Their talons skimmed the ground lightly as they banked into turns, their feathers ruffling against the wind before they ascended again into the air. A few of them barked terse observations to one another, their voices sharp and birdlike¡ªclipped sounds that cut through the silence like blades. "Tracks lead inward. Fresh. They didn''t scatter. They all went in together." "What of the traps?" came another voice, sharper this time. It was from a younger harpy who dipped low, sweeping close enough to the ground to disturb a patch of dirt before lifting into the air again. "There''s nothing. No pits. No tripwires. No spikes. Not a single sign of a trap anywhere near the entrance." "Unlikely," another harpy interjected, her tone cold and skeptical as she narrowed her keen eyes. Her green feathers bristled slightly against the wind. "They''re Orcs. Vengeful creatures. Sloppy with their rage, but cunning in their own brutish way. Why would they retreat without leaving something behind?" A murmur of agreement rippled through the circling flock. The leader frowned deeply, his thin lips curling into a snarl as he descended further into the airspace above the cave. He hovered for a long moment, his wings beating softly as his gaze swept over the entrance. It was dark¡ªpitch black¡ªand uncomfortably quiet. He clicked his beak-like teeth together softly, his eyes narrowing as an unsettling thought began to gnaw at the edges of his mind. "They''re hiding something," he muttered, his voice barely louder than a growl. "They know we''d expect traps. They know we''d be cautious. This silence isn''t an accident. It''s deliberate." The younger harpy from before flapped into place beside him, her expression torn between confusion and curiosity. "But leader, if they wanted us to think there were traps, wouldn''t that mean there are traps? Or¡­ no? Are we overthinking it?" "Of course we are, you fool!" barked another harpy, who swooped closer to join the conversation, his impatience evident. His blood-red feathers ruffled as he gestured toward the cavern. "They''ve gone in. Maybe they''ve given up. Maybe they''re licking their wounds deep in that cave. Maybe they''re too broken to fight. Why else would they retreat so far in without a single fight or barricade?" "It''s a bluff." The leader''s voice snapped across the group like a whip. The harpies quieted at once, their circling growing slower and tighter as they focused on him. His eyes glowed faintly with intensity as he continued, his tone sharp and commanding. "They know we''re watching. They know we''d expect resistance at the entrance. But think¡ªhow many times have we fought Orcs? How many times have they retreated, only to draw us into their traps? If we charge in recklessly, they''ll have us exactly where they want us." "But there are no traps, leader." The statement came from another harpy, this one with an air of calm confidence about her. She swooped low, gliding over the ground just outside the cave and sweeping it with a sharp gaze. "We''ve flown close. We''ve scouted every corner of the brush and stones around the entrance. There are no markings. No signs of pits. No pressure stones. Nothing. It''s too clean. Too empty." A tense silence fell over the group as they processed the words. The wind picked up slightly, tugging at their feathers and scattering dry leaves across the ground. The cave loomed in the background, as silent and still as it had been when they arrived. The leader clenched his talons, his wings flaring slightly as his frustration simmered to the surface. "Then what are they playing at? Orcs don''t just give up. They''re too stupid for something like that. So tell me¡ªif there are no traps, if they''ve fallen silent, why are they waiting?" No one answered. The harpies circled lower now, their movements slower and more deliberate. The tension among them grew like a suffocating fog, each of them glancing warily at the cavernous opening below. The shadows within seemed deeper now¡ªdarker¡ªlike an abyss that swallowed everything whole. Another harpy finally spoke, her voice shaky. "What if they''re dead? Or¡­ waiting for something? Maybe there''s nothing left to fight." "Then why are there no bodies?" the leader snapped, his yellow eyes flashing dangerously as he glared at her. "If they fought something else inside, there would be remains. Blood. Signs of struggle. No¡ªthis is deliberate. This is their game." And yet, as the minutes dragged on and nothing happened¡ªno movement, no sound¡ªthe leader''s suspicion began to waver. The shadows remained still. The silence stretched endlessly. Another harpy, the youngest of the group, finally broke the stalemate. With a burst of impatience, he tucked his wings and dove toward the ground, landing in a crouch just outside the cave. The soft thud of his talons echoed faintly against the stone. "There''s nothing here, leader!" he called back, his voice ringing with smug defiance. "We''re wasting our time! Look! No traps! Nothing!" The others exchanged hesitant glances. One by one, a handful of them followed his lead, gliding down to perch on the rocks and soil near the cave''s entrance. Their wings folded close to their bodies as they scanned the ground one last time. And still¡ªnothing. No movement. No traps. The leader hovered above, his eyes narrowing further as a sense of unease crept up his spine. The quiet¡­ the emptiness¡­ it was unnatural. But as more harpies descended, the pressure grew. He couldn''t deny them forever. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he dropped toward the ground, his talons skimming against the dirt as he landed heavily. The rest of the harpies followed suit, their forms clustering near the cave entrance like a pack of vultures sensing weakness. "Fine," the leader growled, though his voice remained taut with distrust. He looked toward the darkness beyond, the flickering shadows dancing against the walls of the cave like silent sentinels. "If the cowards want to hide, we''ll drag them out ourselves. Prepare to enter¡ª" The words barely left his mouth before something deeper inside the cave shifted. Chapter 290 - 290: Discussion A tense, simmering silence followed the harpy leader''s sharp command. The words "Prepare to enter" hung in the air like a poison cloud, and it wasn''t long before dissent began to ripple through the gathered flock. First came the shuffling of talons against stone¡ªthe restless scraping of claws as several harpies hesitated, their wings twitching nervously. Then, the murmurs started. Soft at first, uncertain whispers exchanged between uneasy comrades, but they grew louder, sharper, like cracks spidering across glass. "Why should we go in?" one harpy finally blurted, her voice cutting through the heavy stillness. She was a smaller figure, her pale green feathers shivering with agitation as she turned toward the leader. "What proof do we have that they''re even worth pursuing? The Orcs are vengeful, yes¡ªbut they''re not clever. If they''re hiding, let them rot in there. Why risk our necks to pull them out?" The leader''s yellow eyes flared, his talons curling into fists, but before he could snap back, another voice joined the dissent. "She''s right. This stinks of a trap!" This harpy, taller and broad-shouldered with streaks of crimson feathers along his arms, stepped forward. His beak-like teeth clicked with frustration as his wings extended slightly for emphasis. "We''ve seen it before. Orcs lure enemies in when they''re weak and desperate. You said it yourself¡ªthey''re vengeful. What if they''re just waiting to collapse the cave on top of us? What if we''re walking into their graves along with them?" "And what if we''re overthinking it?" another harpy snapped back, her voice a sharp screech as she spun on her talons to glare at the dissenters. Her deep violet feathers bristled against the wind as she sneered. "You think Orcs are that smart? You think those lumbering brutes planned all of this just to catch us in a trap? It''s not like they have the brains for it. They''re running. Hiding. They''re too broken to fight us, and now you want to let them slip away like cowards?" "You don''t know that!" The broad-shouldered harpy growled back, his talons scraping against the stone with an audible screech. His wings flared fully now, a gesture of rising anger. "You''re gambling all our lives on a guess. They''ve disappeared into the dark, and you don''t find that suspicious? Not even a little? We can''t just charge in there blindly because you want glory!" The violet-feathered harpy''s sharp laugh rang out, a mocking sound that grated on the ears. "Glory? You think I care about glory? I care about finishing the fight. I care about making sure these disgusting creatures don''t crawl out of that hole and ambush us later. If you''re too much of a coward to fight, then stay out here and preen your feathers while the rest of us clean up this mess." The insult hit hard. The broad-shouldered harpy''s eyes darkened as he stepped forward threateningly, his muscles tensing beneath his crimson plumage. "Watch your tongue, Vyrna. Calling caution cowardice is the mark of a fool who doesn''t live long enough to learn better." The argument began to unravel into chaos. Harpies on both sides of the disagreement flared their wings, raising their voices into a cacophony of barks, screeches, and accusations that echoed against the cave walls. Each faction dug in stubbornly, refusing to yield. "What''s the matter, afraid of the dark?!" sneered one of Vyrna''s supporters, her blue-tipped feathers ruffling smugly as she jabbed a clawed finger toward the dissenters. "Afraid of dying for no reason, you brainless idiot!" another harpy shot back, his feathers flaring red like a warning beacon. "We''re warriors, not rats scurrying into traps. If you want to throw your life away, do it alone!" "The leader gave an order! You want to question him now?" "An order to die doesn''t need to be followed!" The leader''s expression grew darker with every shouted word, his talons grinding into the rocky ground beneath him. He remained silent for as long as he could, watching his warriors tear into each other with barely restrained fury. Their wings beat violently against the air, their arguments growing louder and more volatile by the second. Another voice rose above the din¡ªsharp and frantic, a younger harpy with wide, uncertain eyes. "Listen to yourselves! Do you not hear it? The quiet? That''s not normal. Nothing about this is normal! We''re being played!" "And what would you have us do? Fly away with our tails tucked between our legs? What happens when they regroup? When they''re stronger? What happens when¡ª" "ENOUGH!" The leader''s roar shattered the growing chaos like a hammer against glass. The flock froze instantly, wings stilling, voices falling silent. The air grew heavy, each harpy turning to face their furious leader as he straightened to his full height. His yellow eyes burned with barely restrained rage as he swept his gaze across the group. "You bicker like hatchlings! You screech and squawk over fears and guesses while our enemies hide within that cave! Have you forgotten who we are? Have you forgotten the shame of letting a horde of Orcs retreat right beneath our wings?" He pointed toward the cave entrance, his talon extended like a blade. "We are the masters of the skies! The hunters who stalk from above! Do you think we can let these filthy creatures crawl away unpunished? Do you think we can allow them to regroup, to heal, and return with vengeance tenfold?" Some of the harpies lowered their heads in shame, their feathers wilting beneath his sharp words. But others held their ground, stubborn and uncertain. The broad-shouldered harpy stepped forward once more, his tone respectful but firm. "Leader, we understand. But rushing into the unknown serves no purpose. We can starve them out. Wait them out. There''s no need to charge into darkness where we can''t fight properly. What''s the hurry? Let them suffer where they cower." The leader''s eyes narrowed into slits. "And give them the time to plot? To surprise us when we least expect it? No. If they hide in the dark, then we will drag them into the light. If you''re afraid to fight, step aside. The rest of us will handle this." The murmurs began again, softer now, but still heated. The division was clear. Some harpies shuffled nervously, unwilling to voice their dissent aloud but unwilling to follow their leader into the unknown. Others flared their wings with fierce resolve, ready to march¡ªor fly¡ªstraight into the depths of the cave. "Fine." The leader''s voice dropped to a low growl, his talons flexing once before he folded his wings tightly against his back. "Those of you who would abandon the fight, stay here. But when the rest of us return victorious, don''t expect to share in the spoils. You can keep your pride and your cowardice. The real warriors will press forward." S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Silence. The group split, the tension hanging like a guillotine over their heads. Some harpies stepped back, their faces darkened by shame or frustration. The others turned their gazes toward the cave, their eyes blazing with grim determination. And slowly, the group began to prepare for what lay ahead. Chapter 291 - 291: Confuse them The shadows in the cave swallowed everything whole¡ªthe light, the sound, and even the faintest sense of time. It was as though the very air had thickened, suffocating any trace of clarity or warmth. The Ogres and Orcs moved like spectral figures through the murk, their lumbering forms occasionally silhouetted by the fleeting glow of torchlight before they were consumed by darkness once more. Volk stood in the center of his horde, his gaze sharp and calculating as he observed the task before him. His eyes gleamed like predatory embers, cutting through the dark. "Cover everything," he ordered, his voice a low snarl that carried through the echoing chambers. "Every track, every footstep, every scuff of claw or hoof. I want nothing left behind that those winged pests can follow. Confuse them. Trap them in their own arrogance. Let them believe they''re the hunters¡ªuntil the dark swallows them whole." The Ogres grunted in understanding, their massive, calloused hands clawing through the rocky ground as they moved to erase the trails. With each scrape and sweep, they disturbed the dirt and dust, scattering loose stones in odd, misleading patterns. Their heavy footsteps¡ªnormally seismic thuds¡ªwere muted as they worked meticulously, placing debris in strange formations to obscure where they had come from and where they might have gone. The Orcs moved swiftly, their smaller but more agile bodies weaving through the shadows like predatory wraiths. They used dry twigs, dead leaves, and loose branches to craft confusing patterns across the cave floor. Some Orcs dug shallow trenches, only to fill them again with scattered rubble. Others dampened their trails with wet earth or crushed moss, blurring the lines between their movements and the natural decay of the cave. "Make it look natural," Volk growled as he stalked between his warriors, his sharp gaze piercing their efforts. "Harpies are sharp-eyed. They''ll see any hint of something deliberate. Muddy their senses. Make them second-guess every step. If they look to their left, the answer will be on the right. If they look down, it will come from above. I want them blind. Blind and desperate." The task was grueling, almost absurdly intricate. Each movement required thought, precision, and patience¡ªqualities that Volk''s horde was rarely called upon to exercise. Sweat trickled down the brows of Orcs as they crawled over jagged rocks, smoothing surfaces or smearing them with deceptive handprints. Ogres scraped at stone walls, creating unnatural abrasions to suggest movement where there had been none. The illusion had to be perfect. "There! That wall¡ªit looks too smooth. Roughen it up. And you¡ªwhat are you doing? That trail leads somewhere. Start again! Leave them with nothing but a labyrinth of nothingness!" Volk barked commands as he strode through the chaos, his tone a venomous whip that spurred his horde into further, frantic activity. The cave grew louder with the sounds of their efforts¡ªgrating stones, muffled curses, the crack of twigs under careful boots¡ªbut none of it escaped the confines of the deep, stifling dark. Volk''s strategy was clear: transform the cave into a maze of dead ends and false leads, a graveyard of confusion where their enemy''s sharpest weapons¡ªsight and speed¡ªwould become useless. As the work stretched on, exhaustion began to gnaw at the horde. The Orcs'' shoulders sagged, their hands raw and bloodied from scraping rock. The Ogres moved slower, their massive bodies taxed from bending low to conceal their trails. Yet Volk''s presence was a force that refused to let their momentum wane. His words were relentless, a constant drumbeat of command and contempt. "You call this hiding?!" he spat when an Orc faltered, pausing to wipe sweat from his face. Volk''s voice echoed off the walls, venomous and cutting. "Do you think the Harpies will give you a moment to rest? Do you think they''ll wait while you catch your breath? MOVE! The moment we stop is the moment we lose. If you want to live, then bury yourself in this darkness! Let it become your ally! Or let it become your tomb!" The fire in Volk''s voice reignited their resolve. The horde moved again¡ªfaster, harder, as though possessed by Volk''s unrelenting will. They scattered broken weapons across false paths, mimicking signs of a desperate retreat. They smashed small stones into jagged shards, creating the illusion of a struggle where none had occurred. They used moss, mud, and soot to paint misleading trails across the walls, crafting paths that looped back on themselves like serpents devouring their own tails. And all the while, Volk watched. He prowled through the cave like a shadow made flesh, his presence inescapable. He would pause occasionally, crouching low to run his claws over a newly crafted path, scrutinizing every detail. If he was dissatisfied, the offending Orc or Ogre would be sent back to do it again¡ªthis time perfectly. Hours passed¡ªor perhaps it was only minutes. In the suffocating dark, time lost all meaning. The torchlight had burned low, reducing their world to a hazy gloom punctuated only by the dull gleam of sweat and blood. Yet the horde pushed on, driven by something primal: survival. Volk''s vision had become their lifeline. His unrelenting voice had drowned out their fatigue and fear. Finally, when the last stone had been disturbed, when the last footprint had been smudged into oblivion, Volk called for a halt. His voice echoed through the cave like the crack of thunder. "Stop." The horde froze. The only sound was the rasp of their heavy breaths, the faint drip of water from somewhere deep within the cave. Volk surveyed the scene with a calculating eye. The cave entrance was an unrecognizable chaos of false trails, broken ground, and cryptic marks that led nowhere. It was perfect. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He straightened, his crimson gaze sweeping over his horde as he spoke. "They will come. When they do, they will stumble over their arrogance. They will fly in circles like fools, searching for something that does not exist. And when they are weakest¡ªwhen they are blind and lost¡ªwe will strike. This cave will not be our grave. It will be theirs." The horde remained silent, their exhaustion palpable, but in their eyes burned a fierce determination. Volk turned back toward the depths of the cave, his voice dropping to a growl. "For now, we go deeper. Prepare yourselves. If the Harpies do not kill us, whatever lies in this cave might. Either way, we fight. Either way, we survive." And with that, the horde began to march again, their steps echoing in the dark like the tolling of a war drum. Chapter 292 - 292: Desperation The harpy people descended in waves, gliding silently through the thick air, their sharp eyes piercing the gloom of the forest floor that surrounded the yawning maw of the cave. At first, there had been certainty among them¡ªa predator''s confidence¡ªas they believed they could easily snuff out the orcs and ogres who dared flee into the shadows. But that certainty had turned to frustration. Each new trail they followed, every broken twig or overturned stone, led nowhere. A sharp-eyed scout landed with a flurry of wings and hissed, "This makes no sense!" He kicked a pile of disturbed stones scattered across the ground, sending pebbles skittering in every direction. His talons clicked as he paced back and forth, his head twitching sharply as he scanned the surroundings. "They were here! I know they were here! Look at these marks!" Another harpy landed nearby, folding her wings neatly against her back. Her voice was dripping with impatience. "Yes, we''ve been saying that for the last hour. So where are they now? If they were wounded, they couldn''t have moved quickly." "But the trails go everywhere!" snarled another scout, perching on a branch above them. He stabbed a clawed finger toward the ground below. "Here it looks like they doubled back. There it looks like they ran in circles. And that path over there? It just¡­ stops. It stops like they vanished into thin air!" Murmurs of discontent rippled through the harpies as they began to gather in groups, perched on branches or hovering just above the ground. Frustration was written across their faces, and tension crackled like a storm ready to break. Talons clicked and flexed anxiously, wings beat the air in restless agitation. "It''s like they''re playing with us!" another harpy shouted, her voice shrill as her wings flared open. "They''re mocking us! They''re laughing at us while we chase our own tails! Do you all not see how absurd this is?! We are harpies! Why are we flying in circles like crows scavenging scraps?" The harpy leader stood to the side, watching his kin argue and bicker like children. His keen eyes narrowed, taking in the chaotic scene before him. The once-efficient hunting party had devolved into frustration, their confidence chipped away by the maddening complexity of the trails. Every footstep they traced, every scuff of dirt they investigated, seemed deliberate yet meaningless. One scout landed hard in front of him, his wings flaring wide as his chest heaved with barely contained rage. "Leader, this is pointless! The orcs and ogres are stupid, yes, but even they could not have hidden so completely unless¡­ unless they are dead! Maybe they killed each other or starved in the dark! We waste our time!" The leader''s talons tapped rhythmically against the bark of a low tree branch as he considered the words. His silence weighed heavily on the others, who waited with bated breath. For a long while, the leader said nothing. The only sounds were the rustling of wings, the whispering of the wind through the leaves, and the distant drip of water echoing from within the cave. Another harpy broke the silence. "We''ve spent too much time chasing nothing! The ogres are clumsy and slow, the orcs reckless and obvious. They wouldn''t have the sense or skill to pull this off!" "Exactly!" another chimed in, their wings snapping in irritation. "The trails are wrong! It''s like they were crafted just to confuse us. They would not have the time to do this unless they were desperate. Unless they¡ª" "ENOUGH." The leader''s voice cut through the air like a blade. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The forest fell silent in an instant, every harpy turning their gaze toward him. He stood tall, his wings partially spread, casting jagged shadows across the ground. His golden eyes burned with a sharp, predatory gleam¡ªa look that silenced any further protests. "Desperation? You think this reeks of desperation? Of course it does. Look around you. Do you not see it? Do you not feel it?" The leader''s voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. His words slithered like smoke, curling into the ears of those who listened. "They are wounded. They are broken. And they are terrified. They have taken great pains to hide from us because they know they cannot fight us. "Every false trail, every disturbed stone and misleading path¡ªit reeks of fear. Desperate creatures will always go to great lengths to conceal their weakness. This cave is their last refuge. "They think they can escape us in the dark, but they are fools. They crawl like rats into the shadows, hiding their wounds and broken pride. And we¡ªwe¡ªwill pull them into the light and rip them apart." The harpies began to murmur, their frustration giving way to a simmering excitement as the leader''s words took root in their minds. "You say the trails are deliberate? Good. That means they still live. You say the trails are confusing? Even better. That means they are panicking. "You think they''ve hidden themselves so completely because they are clever? No. It is because they are weak. Weak, wounded, and waiting to be finished." The leader''s face twisted into a wicked smile, his sharp teeth gleaming as he spread his wings fully, casting his shadow across the entire clearing. "We have them cornered. Their hiding tells me everything I need to know. They will die cowering in the dark, surrounded by their failures. "They believe the shadows will save them, but the shadows will betray them. Now¡ªkeep moving! Follow every inch of that cave. Do not stop until we''ve dragged every last one of them into the open! Keep going! GO!" The harpies let out a chorus of sharp cries, their wings snapping open in unison as they took to the air. Frustration turned to bloodthirsty determination, their movements becoming a coordinated flurry of purpose. They dove back toward the cave''s entrance, their sharp eyes narrowing as they scanned every crevice and every shadow for any sign of their prey. And all the while, the leader remained behind, watching them go. His smile never faltered as his golden eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. "Run deeper, little beasts," he muttered under his breath. "Run as deep as you like. The dark will not save you from us." With that, he spread his wings and glided silently toward the cave entrance, his figure vanishing into the gloom. The hunt was far from over. Chapter 293 - 293: Rest Meanwhile, deep within the winding bowels of the cave, Volk and his horde of orcs and ogres finally reached a cavernous chamber. The air was cool, damp, and heavy with the faint echo of dripping water. It was a wide, expansive space, its ceiling rising into shadow, and it offered a measure of safety¡ªat least for now. Jagged stone formations jutted from the ground like the teeth of some sleeping behemoth, and small pools of water reflected dim light from the torches carried by the horde. After hours of frantic marching, crawling, and strategizing, the horde finally came to a stop, their bodies sagging from the strain of the unrelenting pursuit. Volk turned to face his soldiers, his eyes sweeping across the battered horde. The orcs and ogres were covered in sweat, blood, and grime, their heavy breathing filling the cavern like a deep and ragged chorus. Cuts marred their green and gray skin, and their muscular bodies sagged from exhaustion. Some leaned against cave walls, others dropped to their knees, weapons clattering beside them. "Rest," Volk commanded, his voice deep and resonant, carrying across the cavern like a low rumble of thunder. "Sit. Breathe. Let your bones and muscles recover." For a brief moment, there was silence¡ªjust the sound of crackling torches and water trickling through the cave. Then, a low, uneasy murmur rippled through the horde. A particularly broad-shouldered orc stepped forward, his brow furrowed and his tusks bared in worry. "Rest? Now? Are you sure, Volk?" Another voice chimed in, this time an ogre with a deep, gravelly tone. "What if the harpies find us? They''re above us¡­ circling. Always circling. If we sleep, we''ll be defenseless! They''ll swarm in and rip us apart." Volk''s sharp eyes darted to the speaking ogre, silencing him with a single glare. He took a step forward, his heavy boots echoing against the stone. His presence alone made the cavern feel smaller, the shadows darker. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Do you think I haven''t considered that?" he said coldly. "Do you think I''ve brought you here just to be slaughtered in your sleep like cattle? You insult me¡ªand yourselves¡ªwith such fears." The murmurs quieted. The horde looked up at Volk, their leader, with uncertainty clouding their tired faces. Volk took a deep breath, his broad chest rising as he straightened his posture. When he spoke again, his voice was slow, deliberate, and commanding¡ªa voice that cut through fear like a blade. "Listen to me. The harpies rely on the sky. Their wings, their vantage¡ªthey are creatures of the open. We are now deep within this cave, surrounded by stone on all sides. Do you think they will follow us here so easily? No. "They will hesitate. They will be cautious. Why? Because they know we are not fools. We are orcs. We are ogres. We are a horde that strikes even when we are wounded. And a cornered beast is far deadlier than one at ease." The orcs and ogres exchanged glances, the faintest glimmers of understanding flickering across their tired faces. Volk continued, his voice rising with intensity. "The harpies expect us to be on edge. They expect us to set traps, to fight desperately, to throw ourselves against them in blind rage. And because they expect it, they are cautious. "Right now, they are circling, sniffing around like wary wolves. They''re looking for signs of us. But we''ve given them nothing. Do you understand? Nothing." He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist, the torchlight casting deep shadows across his face. "No noise. No fire. No movement. To them, we are ghosts. We are shadows that have melted into the stone. And the longer we remain silent, the more their confidence will waver. They will question themselves. "They will doubt their instincts. They will ask, where did we go? They will wonder, did we double back? Did we flee deeper into the caves? Are we already gone? Their hesitation is our shield. Their confusion is our armor." A smaller orc, his face streaked with dirt and sweat, raised a hand timidly. "But¡­ what if they don''t hesitate? What if they come anyway?" Volk turned his piercing gaze on the orc, and a cruel smirk tugged at his lips. "Then we will tear them apart. If they are foolish enough to follow us here, they will learn that even in the dark, we are not prey. We are hunters. "We will smash their bones against the stone and stain this cave red with their blood. Let them come. Let them see what awaits them in the dark." The tension in the room shifted. It was subtle at first¡ªa few nods, a few fists clenching, a few backs straightening. Volk''s words slithered into their minds, solidifying like iron. "But listen well," Volk continued, pacing slowly in front of them. "For now, we rest. We recover. I know you are weary. I see it. Your blood runs, your bones ache, your bodies scream for respite. Take it. "We have bought ourselves time, and we will use it wisely. If we move now, wounded and tired, we give them what they want. We show weakness. And we are not weak. Not you. Not us." A few more voices murmured hesitantly, but Volk raised his hand again, silencing them. "The harpies are relentless, yes, but they are not invincible. If they find us¡ªand I doubt they will¡ªwe will be ready. For now, I need every one of you to rest, even if only for a moment. "Close your eyes. Let your wounds mend. Trust in me. I will keep watch. When the time comes, I will wake you, and we will strike as one. But for now¡ªrest. That is my command." Slowly, begrudgingly, the orcs and ogres began to settle. Some slumped against the cave walls, others laid their weapons beside them as they lowered themselves to the cold stone floor. The tension in their shoulders began to ease, though the flicker of wariness remained in their eyes. Volk stood tall at the center of the chamber, his arms crossed, his presence a steady pillar of confidence and strength. One by one, the horde obeyed his order. One by one, their heavy eyelids began to droop. Exhaustion overtook them like a heavy blanket, pulling them into restless slumber. The cavern grew quiet¡ªeerily so. The only sounds were the faint, rhythmic breathing of the horde and the distant, eternal drip of water echoing through the cave. Volk watched over them, his sharp eyes glinting in the low torchlight. His mind remained sharp, calculating, always planning the next move. And as the last orc finally surrendered to sleep, the cavern fell into silence. The horde¡ªhis horde¡ªwas at rest. But Volk remained awake, unblinking, his eyes fixed on the dark depths of the cave. Chapter 294 - 294: Preparation Volk sat silently against the jagged wall of the cave, his hulking frame a statue in the dim torchlight. His eyes were closed, but his mind remained sharp¡ªcalculating, scheming. Around him, the horde lay sprawled across the cold stone, their heavy breathing mingling with the soft drip of water echoing from the cavern''s depths. Orcs and ogres, bruised and battered, snored and groaned in their slumber, unaware of the quiet storm brewing within their leader''s mind. Volk''s eyelids fluttered, and he opened his eyes¡ªcold, sharp, glowing faintly with steely resolve. Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his feet, each movement calculated and soundless. His massive form towered over the resting horde, his shadow stretching long and ominous across the cavern floor. He took a moment to survey them, the warriors who had entrusted their lives to him. For all his bravado earlier, Volk knew the truth in his gut: If the harpies truly wanted to find them, they would. The cave''s darkness was no fortress. It was temporary¡ªan illusion of safety. The harpies were sharp-eyed predators. They could follow blood trails, pick up lingering scents, and they had patience on their side. Hiding in the cave was nothing but a delay of the inevitable. The horde might rest for a few hours, but soon enough, the harpies would descend like a swarm of death. Volk clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. This place will be our tomb if we let it. He had spoken confidently earlier¡ªcrafted a lie, a story to soothe the fears of his tired soldiers. And it worked. It bought them the rest they desperately needed. But Volk knew better than to trust fate. Victory wasn''t won through hope; it was won through action. If the harpies were going to come, he would not wait for them to strike first. No, he thought, his fist tightening. I will face them. Alone, if I must. Silently, Volk turned toward the cavern''s exit. His heavy boots moved with uncharacteristic grace, barely making a sound as he slipped away from his slumbering horde. Each step carried the weight of his decision¡ªone that he bore alone. He would not risk waking them. If his plan failed, if he fell out there under the open sky, the horde would still have a chance to recover, regroup, and fight another day. They don''t need to know what I''m doing. Not yet. Emerging into the dark tunnel leading toward the cave''s mouth, Volk took a deep breath. The air here was colder, sharper, alive with faint echoes of the wind outside. He could almost sense the harpies¡ªthose arrogant birds¡ªcircling above, waiting for their moment to strike. Let them come, Volk thought darkly as his lips curled into a smirk. Let them fly down, full of confidence, thinking they have cornered us. I''ll make them regret underestimating me. Volk wasted no time. If he was going to lure the harpies into a trap, he had to act fast, and he had to be meticulous. Every second counted. He scanned the tunnel, his sharp eyes catching every detail¡ªthe way stones jutted from the walls, the loose gravel along the ground, the sharp, splintered edges of wooden beams long abandoned by miners who once used these caves. A plan began to form, and Volk''s mind became a storm of ideas. First, he needed choke points. Harpies were agile, fast, and deadly in open spaces, but here in the cave, their wings were a liability. Volk began moving rocks¡ªhuge boulders that others would deem immovable. His powerful hands gripped stone after stone, sweat pouring down his brow as he carefully rearranged them into narrow, maze-like pathways.Any harpy that entered would be forced to fly low or weave between walls of jagged rock, robbing them of their advantage. "This will slow them down," Volk muttered to himself, his voice low and dark as he shoved another massive boulder into place. Next, he needed traps¡ªreal ones. Volk gathered every resource he could find in the tunnels. From the broken wooden beams, he fashioned crude but effective spike traps. He snapped off sharp shards of wood, wedging them into the ground at angles where an unwary harpy might land, impaling themselves. He placed them beneath piles of loose gravel, covering them so they remained hidden to the untrained eye. He worked tirelessly, his mind fixated on every detail. He strung tripwires made from old rope across narrow pathways, tying them taut. Volk knew harpies were sharp, but if they were chasing him in anger, they wouldn''t see every wire¡ªespecially not in this dim cave. Each wire would trigger a collapse¡ªloose stones and boulders he rigged overhead, ready to fall and crush anything below. "You''ll think twice about coming down here, won''t you?" Volk growled to himself, a savage grin forming as he checked each mechanism, ensuring they would hold. He even prepared fire. Volk tore strips of cloth from his cloak and wrapped them around discarded bones and sticks. He dipped them into pools of old, oily water he found deeper in the cave, likely remnants of some forgotten seepage. Once lit, they would burn hot and bright¡ªenough to disorient the harpies'' keen eyes and send them careening into the traps he''d laid. Time slipped away unnoticed as Volk worked, sweat pouring off his brow and dripping onto the stone. His muscles ached, his hands bled from gripping splintered wood and sharp stones, but he did not falter. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Every trap, every barrier, every piece of his plan was carefully, brutally efficient. Finally, Volk stepped back to admire his work. The cave tunnel was no longer just a passage; it was a gauntlet. A death trap. If they come for me, Volk thought as he wiped blood from his calloused hands, they won''t leave alive. But he wasn''t done. Volk turned his gaze toward the mouth of the cave. He needed bait. The harpies would need a reason to come down, to follow him deeper into his web of traps. He grabbed one of the sharp wooden shards and sliced open his forearm with a hiss. Blood welled up and dripped to the ground. Volk smeared it across the stones, down the tunnel walls, leaving an unmistakable trail. To any harpy, it would look like prey¡ªwounded, bleeding, and desperate¡ªfleeing deeper into the cave. "Come find me, you winged bastards," Volk snarled, his voice echoing faintly into the dark. He could already imagine the harpies'' cries of frustration, their arrogance turning to fear as his traps sprang to life. Satisfied, Volk moved back to the final chamber where his horde still rested, unaware of the carnage he was preparing outside. He sank down to his knees against the cold stone, his breathing heavy but controlled. "It''s ready," he murmured to himself, his lips curling into a grim smile. "If they dare come, I''ll make them pay." For now, Volk closed his eyes. The traps were set, the plan was in motion. All he needed to do was wait. Chapter 295 - 295: Confirming the trap As the horde slumbered deeply, their heavy bodies sprawled across the cave floor, lulled into a sense of temporary safety, Volk remained silent in the shadows. His sharp eyes flickered in the dim light as the last of his soldiers succumbed to exhaustion. But while they rested, Volk''s mind was anything but idle. His thoughts churned like a storm, cold and calculating, sifting through countless possibilities, weighing risks and rewards. His earlier words, filled with confidence and conviction, had been nothing more than a facade. The harpies would eventually find them if they really searched¡ªand Volk knew that all too well. His plans had always been fluid, adapting to the ever-changing circumstances around him. The truth of the matter was, Volk had not been playing for time at all; rather, he had been playing for opportunity. He needed no rest. He needed no reprieve from the battle that was to come. While his horde trusted him and succumbed to sleep, he had already made up his mind. The harpies'' feigned hesitation meant nothing to him. The moment they set foot in the cave, Volk would be waiting¡ªnot with a trap, not with some twisted decoy to mislead them, but with direct confrontation. A challenge. A fight. As quietly as a shadow, Volk rose to his feet. The cave floor was cold beneath him, but his body was as steady as ever, each movement deliberate and controlled. He checked his weapons, making sure his axe was securely fastened to his back, his blade sharp, and his hidden daggers within easy reach. He inhaled deeply, the cool cave air filling his lungs, and then, without a sound, he turned and slipped through the cavern''s winding passages. Each step was measured, as though he were walking across a battlefield rather than a cave. He didn''t fear the dark¡ªhe thrived in it. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The torchlight behind him faded into nothingness as he ventured deeper into the tunnels, leaving his horde behind to recover. He knew what awaited them outside, but he didn''t need to wait. He could face it head-on, while they were still weak and unaware. And as he entered the deeper recesses of the cave, his thoughts began to focus. .The harpies were likely still watching, still circling high above. But Volk knew something they didn''t: the terrain below was not their domain. He could hear the sound of the harpies above, their wings cutting through the air with a distinct whoosh, but they didn''t realize what lay beneath them. The harpies would descend, expecting an easy slaughter, but what they would find instead was a deadly arena, a place where they were the prey. He smiled grimly, reaching into his satchel and pulling out his tools¡ªropes, rocks, sharpened spikes, and hidden snares. These were not the typical traps meant to deceive or confuse. No, these were designed for one thing: pure, unrelenting destruction. He began working quickly, each movement swift and practiced as he set about his task. First, he located the narrow passage that led to a precipice above a chasm, just beyond the area where he suspected the harpies would land. With his rope and carefully tied knots, he rigged a series of spikes¡ªlong, jagged pieces of iron and stone¡ªinto the walls, creating an almost invisible net of death. The ropes, wound tightly and secured into place, would snap taut when disturbed, causing the spikes to drop down into the path below. Anyone who came through the narrow passage would find themselves impaled in a deadly trap, unable to escape. Next, he turned to the floor. The terrain here was uneven, littered with small boulders and jagged rocks. Perfect for what he had in mind. With quick precision, he set small, concealed tripwires across the cave floor, attaching them to large rocks and boulders. Once triggered, these would send the rocks tumbling down, crushing whatever unfortunate creature wandered too close. Some of the boulders were massive, weighing several tons, and if a harpy or even an ogre wasn''t careful, they would be flattened instantly. The rocks were silent, yet deadly, and Volk knew they would be perfect for trapping anyone who tried to rush in without thinking. As he worked, he continued to plan, his mind constantly shifting. The harpies would likely try to flank him, attempting to drop down from above or come from multiple angles. But Volk had anticipated this. He set up hidden spikes in the ground, covered them with loose gravel and dirt, ensuring they blended seamlessly with the surroundings. These spikes, when triggered by weight, would shoot upward like venomous fangs, impaling anything that dared to step too close. Then, he began to set up his final defense: the pit. It was deep, wide, and positioned just beyond a low rise, hidden from view unless one was looking directly down. The pit was lined with sharpened wooden stakes, each one placed with extreme care. It would be nearly invisible to anyone above, and its depth ensured that any creature that fell into it would be trapped and impaled, unable to climb out. Volk didn''t stop there, though. He set up a series of mirrors, polished stones that would reflect even the faintest light from his torch. The idea was simple¡ªdistract and disorient. The harpies relied on their keen eyesight, but with the right angle of light, they would be blinded, confused, unable to pinpoint their target. Finally, he set the most subtle trap of all: the scent. He knew that harpies, like many creatures, relied on their senses. If they could smell their prey, they would know where to strike. Volk had gathered a mixture of herbs, blood, and decaying meat. He scattered it in various places throughout the cave, ensuring that the harpies would detect the scent and think they were being drawn into a trap, following false leads and false scents that would ultimately lead them into his other traps. When it was done, when the last of the ropes were tied, and the final tripwires were set, Volk stepped back and surveyed the cavern. It was now a deadly maze of hidden spikes, snares, and pits. The cave was transformed into an arena of death, a place where no one would survive if they underestimated the danger that lay in wait. Volk''s heart pounded with a mix of excitement and anticipation. This was no longer about waiting. It was about confronting his enemies directly. He had prepared everything he needed, and now all that remained was to let the harpies make their move. As he stood there, his body tense with readiness, he heard a faint rustling¡ªa whisper of movement. The harpies were drawing closer. They had fallen into his trap. And when they came, they would find out that the hunter was no longer hiding in the shadows. Volk grinned fiercely. "Next is to go to them directly." Chapter 296 - 296: Crouching silently Volk trudged through the darkness of the cave, his massive frame moving silently, deliberately, step by step. The oppressive quiet wrapped around him like a heavy shroud, broken only by the faint echo of his boots pressing into the dirt. His mind was alight with focus, his crimson eyes scanning every inch of the cavern''s winding passages. He was heading back toward the trail his horde had worked so hard to obscure. Why? Because Volk knew something his horde didn''t. The harpies would eventually piece the trail together, would follow it relentlessly, driven by their leader''s resolve. His earlier words to his horde had been a calculated lie¡ªa temporary salve to calm their weary, bleeding bodies. "They won''t find us." But Volk knew better. They would come. The gnawing certainty burned in his chest like a coal, and so he took it upon himself to turn predator. If the harpies wanted blood, he would give them war. Every step Volk took down the false trail brought him deeper into a state of heightened awareness. He observed everything¡ªthe way the disturbed dirt shifted where his horde had tread, the scattered, broken roots, and the faint indentations of massive Orc and Ogre feet. He noted the subtle twists in the cave walls where shadows pooled thick like ink, places where ambushes could be set, and areas where the harpies might feel emboldened to gather. Every contour of the trail felt like a carefully drawn map burned into his mind, piece by piece, allowing him to strategize as he walked. Familiarization. He was becoming one with the terrain. Volk crouched at intervals, sinking his fingers into the dirt, testing the ground beneath his feet for firmness. He studied the stalactites above and traced the air for moisture. His mind calculated everything, constructing an unseen battlefield where each corner of the cave was a potential kill zone. His pace was slow, agonizingly so, as if time itself dragged with him. But Volk didn''t care. This was not about speed. This was about control. At times, he stopped entirely. He would glance up, his breath steady but sharp. He swore he could almost hear the harpies¡ªfaint whooshing noises, far off but drawing closer. His pulse remained steady, controlled. As Volk reached the cave''s mouth, where the false trail faded into the darkness beyond, he stepped out into the gloom of the dense forest once again. Here, the air was sharper, colder, and carried the faint scent of blood. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A lingering, sickly sweetness tainted it, like the aftermath of slaughter. His sharp eyes immediately scanned the skies above. Nothing. Not yet. But Volk could feel them. He kept moving, following the disrupted trail that had led his horde to safety. The broken branches, crushed leaves, and muddy earth painted a tale of the harpies'' pursuit. It was subtle¡ªhow some tracks overlapped others. They''ve been here already. They had scouted this area, perhaps trying to judge whether it was safe to move deeper. The thought twisted Volk''s mouth into a humorless smirk. Cautious little birds. Volk ventured further, his movements fluid and unrelenting. Soon, as the trees thinned slightly, he caught sight of them: faint figures silhouetted in the darkness, perched on high branches like shadows brought to life. Harpies. Dozens of them. Their feathers glistened in the moonlight as their talons dug into the bark of the ancient trees. Some muttered among themselves in hushed tones, their harsh voices carried faintly on the wind. Volk crouched low, observing them, his every breath controlled. He saw their leader¡ªa hulking male harpy with dark plumage and a crooked beak¡ªcircling above the others like a vulture. His wings beat slowly, deliberately, as if to remind his flock that he alone commanded the skies. Volk''s fists clenched. The ground beneath him cracked faintly from the pressure of his rage. He watched, unmoving, as the harpies began to settle further into their positions, as if preparing to make a move into the cave. Their patience would soon wear thin. Now, Volk thought, now I know their numbers. He rose slightly, slipping back into the shadows of the forest, his footsteps soundless. The battle was coming, and Volk would greet it like an old friend. His crimson eyes burned in the dark as a cruel smile curled across his lips. However, Volk would turn around and leave. The tunnels stretched before Volk like the twisting veins of some slumbering beast, their dark, earthen walls glistening with faint moisture. He crouched low, his breathing steady but deliberate as the echo of his steps vanished into silence. Shadows swam along the rough edges of the cave, the soft drip-drip-drip of water falling from stalactites like a heartbeat in the gloom. This deep underground, light was a forgotten concept. The air was thick and damp, carrying an earthy weight that clung to Volk''s lungs. Volk''s sharp crimson eyes glimmered faintly as he moved, every step calculated, every motion devoid of hesitation. He had left his horde behind to rest, deceiving them with his earlier words. They needed their strength, but Volk knew the truth¡ªthis was his fight. If he wanted to complete the mission, he must face the harpies by himself. To do that, he had to use every ounce of cunning at his disposal. Ahead, the faint screeches and rustling sounds of the harpies filtered down the tunnel, muted by the winding stone corridors. The birds were close. Volk could feel it in his bones. Yet instead of charging forward like some mindless brute, he moved with the precision of a predator¡ªsilent, invisible. Crrrnnch. The sound of gravel shifting under his foot made him freeze. Volk''s head snapped down. His hulking form crouched even lower. His ears strained for any sign that the harpies had heard the noise. Moments passed¡ªagonizingly slow¡ªas the cave itself seemed to hold its breath. Then, a distant laugh rang out from further in the tunnel, shrill and mocking. It sounded like the leader. Volk''s lips curled into a silent snarl. They were still overconfident. Good. The warlord moved again, taking a different path through the branching tunnels. He crept like a shadow, brushing past jagged walls and ducking beneath low-hanging rock formations. Occasionally, the dim glow of a distant harpy torch flickered across the walls, but Volk stayed hidden. He navigated deeper, using his memory of the cave system and the faint hints of their footsteps¡ªscratches on the stone, dislodged pebbles¡ªas his guide. The air grew colder the closer he crept toward the surface tunnels. A faint breeze, sharp and biting, whispered through the cave. Volk knew he was nearing the entrance again. A wicked plan had already formed in his mind, and it would only take time and patience to execute it. The harpies might have expected an ambush deep in the cavern, but they would never anticipate him doubling back. Emerging near the mouth of the cave, Volk straightened. The soft gray light of the overcast sky above seeped through the jagged opening, casting everything into a cold monochrome. The mountains loomed like ancient sentinels outside, their jagged spires tearing into the heavens. But Volk had no time to admire the view. He turned his attention to the task at hand. Chapter 297 - 297: Trapping the birds completely The Traps Begin Volk''s massive hands moved swiftly, his mind working faster than ever. His years of survival on the battlefield made him an expert at guerrilla warfare. Now, it was time to put that experience to work. He started by digging shallow trenches along the cave''s entrance, using sharp rocks to carve through the dirt. His thick fingers gouged through the earth with brutal efficiency. The first layer of traps had to be invisible. The harpies were smart enough to look for obvious dangers, but Volk knew how to trick them. With precision, Volk buried sharpened stakes¡ªbroken spearheads and splintered bones he scavenged from the cave. He coated them with the sludge of cave fungi, their poisonous spores potent enough to cause paralysis if inhaled. Volk smirked. If the harpies landed, they''d have no idea what awaited them until it was far too late. Sssshhhk¡ªshhhtk! The sound of dirt being overturned echoed faintly. Volk''s movements were methodical but feral, like an animal digging a den. Once the trenches were camouflaged with loose gravel and dead leaves scattered outside the cave, he moved on to the next layer of traps. Volk scanned the perimeter for natural chokepoints, finding several narrow ledges where the harpies might land to investigate. He set up tripwires¡ªthin, almost invisible lines made of sinew and braided threads stripped from abandoned armor straps. Each tripwire was connected to a series of weighted stones. If a harpy stepped on one, the stones would come crashing down with enough force to shatter bones. Krrrsshhh! Thunk! Volk tested one of the traps, ensuring it worked perfectly. A sharp grin spread across his face as the stones plummeted, creating a dull, echoing boom in the surrounding cliffs. But that wasn''t enough. Not for Volk. The harpies'' greatest advantage was their ability to fly. Volk knew that well. He tilted his head back, crimson eyes narrowing as he studied the sharp rocks that jutted out from the cave''s ceiling like jagged teeth. With a grunt, he hefted several heavy chains he had scavenged earlier¡ªrelics of some forgotten dungeon further inside the cave. They rattled ominously as he pulled them up the cliff face. Volk anchored them to cracks in the rock, fashioning crude but deadly harpoon traps. Once triggered, these makeshift chains would swing outward like whips, lashing at anything caught in the airspace near the cave. Volk grinned darkly. Harpies may be fast, but their pride made them careless. If they tried to hover or descend all at once, they would be sliced apart. With the traps above and below complete, Volk turned his attention to sealing off potential escape routes. He piled debris¡ªfallen boulders, broken tree limbs, even remnants of the Ogres'' crude shields¡ªagainst several gaps near the entrance. Each pile was rigged with deadfalls. If the harpies tried to push through, everything would come crashing down, leaving them no way out. Dust covered Volk''s massive form as he worked. His breathing remained steady, though his muscles burned with exertion. He wiped the sweat from his brow, leaving streaks of dirt across his pale skin. As the final trap was set, Volk surveyed his work. The ground outside the cave looked untouched, but beneath its surface lay sharpened stakes, hidden pits, and poisoned trenches. Tripwires crisscrossed the narrow ledges. Above, the swinging chains hung silently, waiting like predators in the dark. Volk knelt down, placing his massive palm on the ground. His lips moved in a low murmur¡ªperhaps a prayer to some forgotten war god, or perhaps simply a promise to himself. "This is the price of arrogance," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. Volk rose to his feet, his towering form casting a long shadow over the entrance. He stepped back, his eyes narrowing as he watched the traps in eerie silence. The harpies would come. They had followed him this far. Their pride wouldn''t allow them to turn back. His mind replayed the system''s words: Kill the harpies. Complete the mission. Volk clenched his fists. A dark, cruel light glimmered in his eyes. The harpies thought they had the advantage, attacking his horde while they were weakened. But now, they were the ones being hunted. With his preparations complete, Volk retreated a short distance into the cave. He blended into the shadows, becoming an invisible sentinel. Soon, he went back to the birdmen. From here, he could watch and wait. Every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, ready to strike when the time was right. The cave fell silent once again. The traps were set. The battlefield was ready. Minutes ticked by, though they felt like hours. The only sounds were the faint whispers of wind and the distant cawing of circling harpies. Volk remained perfectly still, his chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths. In the heavy silence, anticipation hung thick in the air. Then, far off, Volk heard it¡ªthe faint rustle of wings cutting through the wind. The corners of his mouth twitched into a cruel smile. "I am coming¡­" ¡­ Volk, his mind sharp and his senses heightened, retraced the steps his horde had left behind, carefully following the faint trail through the dense forest. The trees seemed to loom even taller as he ventured deeper, their thick canopies blotting out much of the sky. He moved quickly and silently, aware that the harpies could be watching from above, their keen eyes scanning the surroundings. His thoughts were a whirl of strategy, calculating every potential outcome, every weakness in the harpies'' movements. He knew they would expect him to be cautious, to hide away in the cave where his horde rested, but Volk was never one to shy away from the frontlines. He was certain the harpies would think they had him cornered, that their pursuit of him would be easy. But they were wrong. The moment their guards dropped, he would strike, and he would strike hard. As he navigated the forest, he sensed the oppressive weight of silence around him. His sharp ears picked up the slightest rustle, the distant flapping of wings, and even the subtle whisper of wind in the trees. The harpies were nearby, just out of sight. They knew something was off¡ªwhy hadn''t he set any more traps? Where was the usual defensiveness that orcs were known for? Volk slowed his pace as he approached a clearing where the trail seemed to converge. His instincts screamed that the harpies were close, and with each step, his senses flared. He crouched low, staying in the shadows, waiting for the right moment. The subtle fluttering of wings reached his ears once again, and he tensed. Finally, after what felt like hours, his sharp eyes caught movement at the edge of the clearing. A harpy, its wings beating slowly, hovered just above the ground, its eyes scanning the area. Volk held his breath, making sure not to make a sound. His heart beat in time with the rhythmic flap of the harpy''s wings. He had found them. A sudden sense of satisfaction filled him. The time had come. He had tracked them down, and now, it was his turn to strike. The harpies were oblivious to his presence, unaware that the very predator they sought to hunt had quietly slipped into their midst. Volk took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, preparing to make his move. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 298 - 298: Offer Deep within the suffocating embrace of the cave, Volk crouched low against the uneven stone floor The air was damp, thick with the earthy tang of moss and moisture. Faint streaks of light danced from cracks in the ceiling, illuminating jagged walls that seemed to close in with every passing moment. The distant drip, drip, drip of water echoed endlessly, each droplet a subtle reminder of the oppressive silence that had settled over his horde. Shadows loomed large, flickering and twisting like specters as the dim light hit the cavern''s stalactites. Volk''s sharp crimson eyes pierced through the gloom, watching the faint movements of the harpies far ahead. They flitted in and out of view, their silhouettes sharp against the sparse light. Wings fluttered softly, producing faint whoosh, whoosh sounds that carried through the otherwise still cavern. The harpies weren''t in any rush. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. They glided gracefully, their talons clicking against the stone as they landed occasionally to inspect their surroundings. Volk''s hand clenched into a fist. The calloused leather of his gloves creaked with the strain of his grip. He was moments away from unleashing chaos upon them. The traps had been set, the plans laid. All he had to do was to attack directly. Yet, a sharp pang of realization clawed at his mind. His gaze narrowed as he studied the harpies.p Their wings beat in perfect rhythm, their coordinated movements far too precise to exploit. Volk''s thoughts churned like a storm. The realization hit him harder than he cared to admit¡ªhe had no aerial advantage. If the battle extended beyond the confines of the cave, his forces would be shredded apart. The harpies could soar high above the reach of his warriors, their wind magic slicing through flesh and armor alike. The sound of his own breathing grew louder in his ears. He needed to rethink this. His mind raced, combing through scenarios. A frontal attack? Suicide. Ambush? Risky. But what if he didn''t fight? What if he offered something else? He straightened, his hulking form rising from the shadows like a beast emerging from slumber. The harsh scrape of his boots against stone echoed in the cavern. His horde, scattered and hidden among the rocks, shifted nervously at his sudden movement. They looked at him with wide, questioning eyes, but Volk raised a hand, silencing them. "I will speak to them," he said, his voice low yet commanding. His steps were deliberate, his every movement calculated as he strode toward the faint glow where the harpies had gathered. Each step sent a faint crunch, crunch through the cave as his heavy boots crushed stray pebbles underfoot. When he emerged into the light, the harpies turned to face him. Their golden eyes gleamed like molten coins in the dimness. They spread their wings wide, feathers shimmering faintly in hues of silver and sapphire. There was a sharpness to their gazes, a predator''s instinct that made even Volk''s seasoned skin prickle. The leader stepped forward, a tall harpy with sharp, angular features and wings that stretched wider than any of the others. His feathers were darker, almost black, edged with streaks of gold that glimmered faintly. He tilted his head, studying Volk with an expression that was equal parts amusement and disdain. "You''ve decided to surrender?" the leader asked, his voice dripping with mockery. The other harpies snickered, their laughter echoing like cruel wind chimes. Volk smirked, his sharp tusks glinting faintly in the dim light. "Surrender?" he repeated, his deep voice rolling through the cavern like distant thunder. "No. I came to offer you something far greater than a fight." The harpies stilled, their laughter fading into an eerie silence. They exchanged glances, their brows furrowing in confusion. "I am Volk," he declared, his voice steady and commanding. "Leader of this horde. Slayer of men, conqueror of dungeons. I do not kneel. I do not beg. And I do not waste time with meaningless battles." The harpy leader crossed his arms, his talons tapping against the stone. "And what exactly are you offering, beast?" "An alliance," Volk said simply, his crimson eyes locking onto the leader''s golden gaze. "Join me. Lend me your wings, your power. Together, we could lay waste to the human kingdoms, carve out a realm of our own. No one would dare oppose us." There was a pause. Then, the cavern erupted in laughter. The harpies howled with amusement, their laughter high-pitched and grating. Some doubled over, clutching their sides, while others pointed at Volk as though he were the punchline to some cosmic joke. "You''re insane!" one of them cackled, her wings fluttering as she struggled to stay upright. "You think we would follow you?" The leader''s laughter was quieter, but no less mocking. He stepped closer to Volk, his golden eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Do you truly believe we would stoop so low? To join forces with ground-dwelling brutes like you? Your kind is nothing but filth. Clumsy, stupid, barbaric." Volk''s smirk didn''t falter. He folded his arms across his broad chest, standing tall amidst their ridicule. "I expected this," he said calmly. "Your arrogance blinds you. You think yourselves superior because you can fly. But wings mean nothing without a purpose, without a leader to guide you." The harpies continued to laugh, their voices rising in a cacophony of scorn. "And you think you are that leader?" the harpy leader sneered. "You''re delusional." Volk took a step closer, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the smaller harpy. "Laugh all you want," he said, his voice a low growl. "But tell me this¡ªhow many battles have you fought? How many have you won? Do you even understand the cost of true victory?" The harpy leader''s smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly masked it with a scoff. "Your kind is weak," Volk continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "You prey on the defenseless, on those who cannot fight back. But against a real enemy? Against someone who won''t stop until they''ve ground your bones to dust? You''d crumble. You''d flee." The laughter began to waver, some of the harpies shifting uncomfortably. But the leader held his ground, his gaze hardening. "We don''t need you," he said coldly. "And we certainly don''t fear you." Volk chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver through the cavern. "Fear? No, I don''t expect you to fear me. Not yet. But if you continue down this path, you will. That, I promise." The harpies bristled, their wings flaring in agitation. The leader stepped forward, his talons scraping against the stone as he stared Volk down. "You speak as though you''ve already won," he said. "But your words are empty. We are not like you. We don''t grovel in the dirt, begging for scraps. We soar above it all, untouchable." "Untouchable?" Volk repeated, his smirk widening. "Is that why you''re here, deep in this cave, chasing after my horde? Because you''re untouchable?" The harpy leader''s jaw tightened, his feathers ruffling in irritation. "You may laugh now," Volk said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "But remember this moment when the ground is stained with your blood. When your wings are clipped, your bodies broken. Remember that you had a chance to join me, to stand as equals. And you threw it away." The harpies stared at him, their laughter silenced. For a moment, the cavern was deathly quiet, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, the harpy leader laughed¡ªa sharp, bitter sound. "Do what you will," he said. "We will never bow to the likes of you." He turned, spreading his wings wide. The other harpies followed suit, their gazes filled with contempt as they prepared to take flight. Volk watched them go, his smirk fading into a cold, calculating expression. He had planted the seeds of doubt, of fear. And that was enough¡ªfor now. Chapter 299 - 299: So be it Volk stood amidst the clearing where the harpies circled above, his imposing figure unyielding even under their mocking gaze. His crimson eyes gleamed with fervor as he raised his voice, projecting authority and unwavering confidence. "Listen to me, winged hunters of the skies! You look down on us, but I see strength in your kind. I see a future where the harpy people rise higher than ever before, not as scattered bands but as a unified force. "And I¡ªVolk¡ªoffer you that future. Together, we could carve a path of conquest so glorious that your names will echo in the winds for generations!" He took a step forward, his voice swelling with fervent conviction. "What do you gain by attacking us? Scraps of fleeting satisfaction? A moment of dominance? I offer you something far greater. A legacy. Power. "Glory that will transcend the skies you glide through. Together, we could dominate the forests, the mountains, the very heavens themselves!" Volk clenched his fists, his voice taking on a steel edge. "Imagine what we could achieve! The harpy people, no longer prey to mere humans or beasts, no longer mocked as scavengers but feared as rulers! "You could have lands to call your own, riches beyond measure, and the strength to defend it all. All I ask is your cooperation. I promise you victory, prosperity, and respect¡ªthings no one else has dared to offer you!" The harpies above exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from amusement to skepticism. Slowly, a chorus of mocking laughter began to rise. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. One harpy, his feathers tinged with silver and his wings shimmering under the faint light, flew lower, his piercing voice carrying disdain. "You think we''d believe the words of an orc? Your promises are as empty as your skull, ground-walker! You talk of glory, yet you skulk in caves, hiding like frightened prey. Do you think us fools?" Another harpy, her plumage a brilliant shade of red, swooped closer, her talons gleaming like polished blades. "You speak of uniting us, but what could you possibly offer? You''re nothing but a desperate brute trying to save his pitiful horde. What makes you think we''d ever ally ourselves with your kind?" Their laughter intensified, echoing mockingly across the clearing. They jeered, their words dripping with contempt. "Glory? From an orc? We might as well ally with worms!" one shouted. "What future can you offer us when your present is so pathetic?" another chimed in, drawing further waves of derisive cackling. Volk''s expression remained steady, though a faint flicker of frustration crossed his features. He straightened his stance, trying to maintain his composure even as their mockery cut deeper. "Mock me if you will," he said, his voice steady but sharp. "But understand this: you may laugh today, but the winds of fate are unpredictable. If you reject my offer, you may find yourselves regretting it when we rise beyond your reach." The harpy leader, who had been silent until now, descended further, his wings flapping with deliberate slowness as he locked eyes with Volk. "You speak boldly for someone who hides in the shadows. But you are mistaken if you think your words can sway us. You presume too much, orc." His voice grew colder, laced with irritation. "Your arrogance knows no bounds. Do you think we need you? That we, the rulers of the skies, would ever stoop so low as to align with the likes of you?" The air grew tense as Volk''s patience began to waver. Despite his attempts to maintain control, the harpies'' scornful words struck deep. He raised a hand, about to respond, but the harpy leader interrupted with a furious cry. "Enough of this farce! You dare waste our time with your empty promises? You insult us with your delusions of grandeur! Leave, orc, before we show you why the skies belong to us!" Volk''s resolve cracked under the sheer disdain and hostility. Realizing the futility of pressing further, he exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly. He had hoped to avoid further conflict, but their pride and anger were unyielding. For now, there was no choice but to retreat. Suddenly, standing before the harpy group, Volk''s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Are you all sure?" His words carried a weight that made even the leader of the harpies hesitate momentarily. The leader, a wiry, sharp-eyed male harpy with feathers dark as midnight, scoffed loudly, masking the unease brewing within. "Of course! What could you possibly do, filthy orc? You''ve run out of tricks. Do your worst!" The other harpies echoed his laughter, though some shifted uncomfortably. Volk smiled¡ªa slow, dangerous curl of his lips. "Very well," he said, his tone unnervingly calm. And then, without warning, his body began to change. A low, guttural rumble emanated from Volk''s chest, growing louder and deeper with every passing second. His green skin began to darken, taking on an earthy, almost stone-like hue, and his body seemed to expand. His muscles swelled grotesquely, veins pulsating visibly under his thickening skin. The harpies watched in mounting disbelief as his transformation began. His arms grew first, bulging unnaturally, the muscles twisting and contorting as they doubled in size. The sound of stretching, tearing flesh and the crack of reshaping bone filled the air. Volk''s hands turned monstrous, each finger extending into thick, brutal claws capable of rending steel. "What¡­ what is this?!" one of the harpies stammered, her voice trembling. Volk''s legs followed next, elongating and broadening until they resembled the thick, gnarled trunks of ancient trees. His feet became massive, each step he took causing the ground beneath him to tremble and crack. The harpy leader took an involuntary step back, his bravado fading. "You''re¡­ not an orc anymore," one of the harpies whispered, her wide eyes fixed on Volk. The transformation continued relentlessly. His torso expanded, ribs and spine jutting grotesquely as his chest barreled out. His shoulders broadened to an impossible degree, and the faint, green glow of something primal and raw began to emanate from beneath his skin. His head tilted back, and with a guttural roar, his face contorted and morphed. His jaw widened unnaturally, his teeth growing into jagged, ogre-like fangs. Two small horns erupted from his forehead, curling menacingly upward. His eyes glowed with a fiery orange light, exuding pure, unrestrained power. The harpies could do nothing but stare, frozen in stunned horror. Feathers rustled uneasily as a wave of fear swept through the group. One younger male harpy took a hesitant step backward, his sharp talons scraping against the rocks. "Leader," he whispered, "this¡­ this isn''t normal. We should¡ª" "Silence!" the leader barked, though his voice cracked ever so slightly. He flared his wings defiantly, but the sweat dripping down his temple betrayed his growing fear. Meanwhile, Volk''s transformation reached its zenith. His back arched, massive, jagged spikes erupting along his spine with sickening cracks. His voice, now a deep, guttural growl, rumbled through the air. .He stood before them not as an orc but as an ogre¡ªa towering behemoth of pure intimidation. The sheer size of him was overwhelming. He loomed over the harpies like a living mountain, his every breath sending gusts of hot air toward them. His claws flexed, and the ground beneath him seemed to shatter with every shift of his weight. The harpies were no longer laughing. "What¡­ what have you become?" another harpy choked out, her voice barely a whisper. Volk grinned, his massive tusks gleaming menacingly. His voice was a deep, resonant growl that sent shivers down their spines. "I''ve become your reckoning," he said, his tone calm but laced with raw, terrifying power. The leader gulped audibly but tried to maintain his composure. "You think this changes anything? Numbers are on our side!" Volk took a slow, deliberate step forward, and the harpies flinched. His massive clawed hand reached out, grabbing a nearby boulder and crushing it effortlessly in his grip. Shards of stone rained down, and the sound echoed ominously. "Are you all really sure?" Volk asked again, his voice quieter now but no less terrifying. The harpies exchanged uneasy glances, the once-united flock now riddled with doubt. The oppressive aura emanating from Volk sapped their confidence, and even the leader found himself struggling to respond. In the heavy silence that followed, Volk stood tall, his monstrous form radiating dominance. His glowing orange eyes swept over the group, daring them to test his resolve. The leader clenched his fists, his wings twitching nervously. And yet, even he could not mask the fear creeping into his voice as he growled, "We''ll see who stands victorious." Volk''s grin widened. "So be it." Chapter 300 - 300: Massacre Volk prowled through the dense underbrush, his hulking frame obscured by shadows that clung to his radioactive aura. The faint glow of his toxic power lit the area around him, casting an eerie green hue over the cracked earth and dead leaves. He moved silently, each step calculated, each breath purposeful. His molten eyes scanned the canopy above, and his ears perked at every faint flutter of wings. The harpies were close¡ªhe could feel their presence like a dagger pressing against his skin. Suddenly, a piercing cry echoed above, slicing through the stillness of the forest inside this cave. Volk''s lips twisted into a grin as the first harpy dove from the sky, her talons gleaming like polished steel. "Finally," Volk growled, his voice reverberating like the grumble of an earthquake. The harpy swooped toward him, her talons outstretched, aiming to tear into his flesh. But Volk didn''t flinch. Instead, he stood his ground and clapped his massive hands together with such force that the air rippled in a deafening shockwave. BOOM! The harpy screeched as the powerful blast struck her mid-air, sending her spiraling uncontrollably. Her wings faltered, and she crashed into the trees, snapping branches as she plummeted to the ground in a crumpled heap. Volk stepped forward, his radioactive form humming with raw energy, his grin widening as the forest inside this cave erupted with more cries. The remaining harpies, enraged, descended in a coordinated attack. Two darted toward him from opposite sides, their sharp wings cutting through the air like scythes. "Is that all you''ve got?" Volk sneered, clapping his hands again. BOOOOOM! Another thunderous wave of compressed air shot outward, slamming into the harpies like a tidal wave. They were thrown back, their wings flailing as they struggled to regain control. One slammed into a tree trunk with a sickening crack, while the other managed to hover unsteadily, her sharp gaze locked onto Volk. More harpies circled above, their glowing eyes narrowing as they observed his devastating power. One of them let out a shrill command, and a group of four dove simultaneously, their talons gleaming like daggers in the pale light. Volk snarled, his radioactive glow intensifying. His fists clenched as he raised one hand and slammed it into the ground. The earth quaked beneath him, sending jagged cracks racing outward. A plume of toxic green energy erupted from the ground, engulfing the diving harpies. Their cries turned to choking gasps as they were caught in the noxious fumes, their feathers burning and falling away like ash. "You''re in my territory now!" Volk roared, his voice a thunderous bellow. One particularly large harpy, her feathers shimmering with a golden hue, dove toward him with incredible speed. Her talons, wreathed in wind magic, aimed directly for Volk''s head. He reacted with inhuman speed, leaping into the air to meet her. BOOM! His clap sent another shockwave crashing into her mid-dive. The harpy managed to twist her body just enough to avoid the full brunt of the attack, but the force still sent her spiraling off course. Volk didn''t give her a chance to recover. He shot forward, his radioactive aura leaving a burning trail in the air, and grabbed her by the throat. "You thought you could stop me?" Volk growled, his grip tightening as the harpy struggled, her talons clawing desperately at his arm. With a flick of his wrist, Volk hurled her downward. She crashed into the earth with an impact that shook the forest inside this cave floor, a crater forming around her limp body. The remaining harpies hesitated, their circling patterns growing erratic. Fear began to creep into their cries as they realized the full extent of Volk''s power. But one of them, a male with black feathers streaked with crimson, screamed a rallying cry and dove toward Volk, leading the others in one final, desperate attack. Volk laughed¡ªa low, guttural sound that sent chills down their spines. He raised his arms wide as if inviting their assault. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Come, then!" he roared, his radioactive form blazing brighter than ever. "Let''s see how long you can last!" As the harpies closed in, Volk clapped his hands together with unprecedented force. BOOOOOOOOOM! The shockwave this time was monumental, tearing through the air like a hurricane. Trees were uprooted, the earth split, and the harpies were thrown like ragdolls. Those that were closest to him were obliterated on impact, their bodies disintegrating into ash. The survivors flapped desperately, their wings battered and broken, as they fell to the ground in heaps. Volk stood amidst the destruction, his radioactive glow flickering ominously. The air around him was thick with the scent of burning feathers and scorched earth. His chest heaved with exertion, but his grin never faltered. One last harpy, the male who had led the charge, crawled toward him, his wings torn and useless. He glared up at Volk with defiance even as blood dripped from his beak. "You... won''t win," the harpy rasped. "The skies¡­ belong to us¡­" Volk crouched down, his glowing eyes locking onto the harpy''s. "The skies might belong to you," he said, his voice dripping with menace. "But the ground is where you''ll meet your end." With one final clap, BOOOOOM! the harpy''s life was extinguished, his body reduced to dust. Volk straightened, his radioactive glow dimming slightly as he surveyed the battlefield. The once-proud harpies lay defeated, their bodies strewn across the cave. He exhaled deeply, his grin fading into a satisfied smirk. "This," Volk muttered to himself, "is what happens when you cross me." As the harpy people scattered to escape, panic rippled through their ranks like an earthquake tearing apart a fragile structure. The leader shouted commands, but chaos consumed them. Wings beat frantically against the air, the sounds of feathers slicing through the wind mixing with cries of alarm and fear. Suddenly¡ªsnap! One harpy darted too low and triggered a concealed trap. A massive spiked net whipped upward from the forest inside this cave floor, ensnaring the unfortunate harpy mid-flight. She screeched, flapping wildly, but the sharpened edges of the net tore at her wings, leaving her trapped and bleeding. Another harpy swooped high, attempting to climb into the sky and call for reinforcements. Wham! A hidden catapult released from the ground, launching a weighted boulder that smashed into his torso. He spiraled downward, colliding with the earth in a lifeless heap. The remaining harpies paused mid-flight, their frantic movements faltering as they scanned the terrain with terror-filled eyes. Boom! A firebomb ignited behind them, setting the treetops ablaze and forcing them into a more confined path. "This can''t be happening!" one of the younger harpies cried, her voice trembling. She darted left, only to trigger another trap¡ªa line of poisoned barbs launched from the shadows, embedding into her delicate wings. With a scream, she plummeted to the forest inside this cave floor, writhing as the venom began to take hold. The leader gritted his teeth, his sharp eyes narrowing as he tried to assess the situation. "Hold your positions! Form into defensive flocks!" he bellowed, but the harpies were beyond reasoning. Their panic drove them blindly into the air, into the ground, into traps that Volk had meticulously prepared. One harpy zigzagged through the forest inside this cave, thinking she''d found an escape route. Suddenly, the ground beneath her gave way, and she plunged into a pit filled with sharpened stakes. Her body landed with a sickening crunch. Another harpy, trying to pull her free, flapped desperately near the edge of the pit but was struck by a hidden dart that pierced her throat. Blood bubbled up as she collapsed beside her fallen comrade. The leader''s frustration boiled over. "Cowards! Fly higher! Stay above the treetops!" But as the surviving harpies ascended, a massive net fired from the canopy, wrapping around three of them and dragging them down with a series of ear-piercing cries. The remaining harpies hesitated, wings beating furiously as they hovered in place, unsure whether to retreat or press on. Thunk! Another trap activated¡ªa volley of flaming arrows arced through the sky, forcing the hovering harpies to scatter again. The leader swore under his breath, clutching his spear tightly. "Regroup! We need to¡ª" His words were cut off as the ground erupted beneath him. Volk''s cunning traps had included hidden pressure plates, and now, the harpy leader found himself blasted backward by an explosion of shrapnel and smoke. The harpies that remained attempted to dive back into the trees to evade the relentless assault. But here too, Volk had anticipated their every move. Concealed nooses of reinforced vines snapped tight around their legs and wings, yanking them violently into the air. They thrashed and screamed, dangling helplessly above the forest inside this cave floor. Everywhere they turned, there was another trap, another death waiting for them. They tried to regroup, but the confusion was too great. Harpies collided mid-flight, some crashing to the ground in a heap of broken wings and limbs. Others tried to ascend higher but were relentlessly pursued by flaming projectiles, explosions, and smoke that choked their lungs and stung their eyes. The harpy leader, now battered and bloodied, stared around in disbelief. His proud flock, once so untouchable in the skies, was being systematically obliterated. "This... this can''t be happening," he muttered, clutching his weapon. His sharp eyes searched the shadows, and then he saw him¡ªVolk. Emerging from the darkness like a shadow given form, Volk stood tall amidst the carnage, his radioactive glow barely illuminating his twisted grin. His voice cut through the cacophony of screams and flames, cold and mocking. "Run if you want. Fly if you can. But this forest inside this cave will be your tomb. You brought this upon yourselves." The harpies, seeing Volk, let out cries of fury and desperation, but their numbers were too diminished to mount a proper counterattack. One by one, they fell into the traps, their bodies littering the battlefield. Chapter 301 - 301: Clueless horde The harpy people fell one after another, their screeches of fury fading into silence as Volk''s traps and sheer might brought their reign of the skies to a bloody end. The last harpy, their leader, glared defiantly at Volk before succumbing to the crushing blow of his axe. The battlefield, littered with feathers and blood, was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves disturbed by the lingering breeze. Then, the familiar chime echoed in Volk''s ears. Ding! You have destroyed all the harpies. Reward: A complete map and direction to the elven territory of Orzaroth. Volk''s sharp eyes widened as a translucent map unfurled before him, glowing faintly in the dim light. Detailed routes to Orzaroth sprawled across the projection, showing landmarks, forests, rivers, and guarded borders. The elven territory was now within reach¡ªa goal he''d long coveted. A toothy grin spread across Volk''s face. "Finally," he muttered, his voice low but triumphant. The harpies had been formidable, their persistence and cunning nearly exhausting his patience, but now they were gone, and the reward was his. He turned back toward the cave, his powerful strides crunching over broken branches and scattered feathers. Entering the cave, he saw his horde¡ªOgres and Orcs alike¡ªstill sprawled out in exhausted slumber. Blood-streaked and battered, their faces were serene in rest, unaware of the battle that Volk had fought and won on their behalf. Volk stood silently for a moment, his gaze sweeping over them. These warriors, his kin, had trusted him to lead them, and while their strategies and strength were valuable, there were times when he had to shoulder the burden alone. Watching them rest, their chests rising and falling rhythmically, a rare warmth spread through his chest. He muttered under his breath, "They don''t even know¡­ not yet." Slowly, he settled down against the cool stone of the cave wall, leaning back as he allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation. He felt the aches and pains of the battle creeping up on him, but it was a good pain¡ªa reminder of victory. His heavy lids closed, and for the first time in a long while, Volk allowed himself to rest, a content smirk lingering on his face. The map to Orzaroth was his. The harpies were no more. And his horde, oblivious to the danger that had been vanquished, would wake to a new day without the shadow of harpy wings looming over them. For now, Volk allowed himself the peace of sleep. Tomorrow, they would march toward the elven lands, and a new chapter of conquest would begin. ¡­ Two days passed in the damp, cold confines of the cave. The stillness was broken by the soft groans and heavy stretches of the horde waking up. The Ogres cracked their knuckles, their towering frames shifting as they rolled stiff shoulders. The Orcs rubbed their eyes, fangs flashing briefly as they yawned in unison. The air carried the faint scent of soot and damp earth, but a peculiar sense of peace settled over them. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they had slept deeply, uninterrupted by the sounds of battle, the clanging of weapons, or the desperate screams of the dying. One of the younger Orcs, his green skin marred by shallow scars from recent fights, blinked sluggishly as he stretched his arms. "That was... that was the best sleep I''ve had in years," he muttered, almost disbelieving. He turned to an older Orc sharpening his blade. "Do you feel it? Like we actually rested for once?" The elder Orc paused, looking up from his blade with a grunt. "Hmph. Feels strange. My muscles aren''t burning, my head isn''t pounding. Almost feels like I''ve gone soft," he said, though a faint smile tugged at his cracked lips. An Ogre leaned against the cave wall, his massive frame nearly blocking out the dim light filtering through the entrance. "You''re not wrong," he rumbled, his deep voice echoing. "I don''t remember the last time I didn''t wake up aching everywhere. Feels... unnatural." Another Orc joined in, his tone light-hearted. "Unnatural? It feels like a damn miracle. You don''t get nights like that in the wild. I woke up and didn''t even think about sharpening my weapon first thing. That''s how good it was." The group burst into chuckles, the tension from the past battles momentarily lifting. Conversations blossomed among them, recounting their exhaustion before this rare respite. One Ogre joked about how he had dreamed of eating an entire mountain of roasted boar, while an Orc bragged that his dreams involved slaughtering an endless wave of enemies without getting tired. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk, leaning against a jagged rock at the cave''s edge, observed them with his sharp, calculating eyes. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and a sly smirk played on his lips. He allowed their laughter to fill the cave for a few moments before clearing his throat. The sound carried an authority that silenced the chatter instantly, drawing every gaze to him. "Good sleep, was it?" Volk began, his tone dripping with amusement. His gaze swept over the group, his smirk widening. "Do none of you remember why we came here? Why we''re hiding in the shadows of this cave like prey?" The horde exchanged confused glances, their laughter fading. One Orc hesitantly spoke up, scratching his head. "Uh... we were training? Fighting? Running, maybe? It''s all a blur." Volk''s smirk turned into a sharp grin. "Running. Chased like animals. By harpies." Gasps and murmurs rippled through the group. The realization dawned on them like a cold splash of water, and some of them shifted uncomfortably. "Harpies?" one Ogre repeated, his voice laced with both confusion and embarrassment. "You mean those feathered pests from the sky were hunting us? Impossible! I will kill them!" Volk looked at the Ogre and laughed inwardly. Last time, you were black and blue, beaten to the point of almost crying, and now you act like you don''t remember? How shameless. But considering that Ogres were brain-dead idiots, he could only sigh. Ultimately, Volk nodded, his grin fading into a serious expression. "Yes. Those ''feathered pests'' who have been hunting us relentlessly, waiting for a moment of weakness to finish us off. The ones who tore through the trees and nearly bled us dry. And yet, you all slept so soundly as if we had won a grand victory." The group fell silent, their gazes dropping to the cave floor. Some muttered curses under their breath, while others clenched their fists in shame. "But," Volk continued, his voice growing louder and more commanding, "that''s why I''m here. To think ahead, to ensure your survival." He let the words sink in before delivering the next blow. "Do you think they''ve simply given up? That they''ve flown away, defeated, while you lot snored away the hours?" The Orcs and Ogres tensed, their earlier relaxation replaced with renewed unease. "If they haven''t left," one Orc dared to ask, his voice wavering, "then why haven''t they attacked us yet?" Volk leaned forward, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Because they''re cautious. They think we''ve laid traps. They know we''re vengeful creatures, and they suspect we''re waiting for them to strike. That hesitation is the only reason you''re alive right now." The horde exchanged uneasy glances, but Volk raised a hand to silence any questions. "And it''s not just their fear that keeps them at bay. I''ve already dealt with them, scouted their movements, and ensured they''ll hesitate to come near us again for now." The horde blinked in surprise, a wave of admiration washing over them. "You... you dealt with them?" one of the younger Orcs asked, his voice filled with awe. "Alone?" Volk didn''t answer directly. Instead, he turned his back to them, his voice carrying a note of finality. "You''re safe for now. But it''s not over. We need to recover fully before we make our move." The group erupted into cheers, their earlier doubts and fears replaced with renewed confidence. They clapped their hands, stomped their feet, and roared in agreement. "For Volk! For the horde! For Warchief!" they shouted with their lungs and chest out, their voices echoing off the cave walls that they were in like a grumbling volcano. Volk allowed their enthusiasm to build before turning back, his expression fierce and commanding. "Rest for now," he ordered. "Heal your wounds, sharpen your weapons, and regain your strength. When the time comes, we''ll make our comeback, and those harpies will wish they''d never crossed us. We will make them pay!" The horde roared in agreement, their spirits lifted. "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAR!!" "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAR!!" "LOK''TAR OGAAAAAR!!" One by one, they began to settle back into their makeshift resting spots, their trust in Volk''s leadership solidified. As the cave fell silent once more, Volk watched them with a faint smirk, his mind already calculating their next move. Facing the harpies, made Volk a little humble, fortunately, he can access through his power now and his Radioactive form was much longer, if not, they would have been defeated. What if they met another group of Monsters and he already used his Radioactive form? It seems he needed to strengthen his horde from ground, water and land! Chapter 302 - 302: Accident As the dim light of dawn broke through the cracks and crevices of the cave, casting faint shadows across the jagged walls, Volk stood tall amidst his resting horde. The once-quiet cave began to stir as the faint rustling of ogres and orcs waking filled the air. Volk''s crimson gaze swept across his warriors, the remnants of bloodied battles still staining their skin. The fire in his eyes betrayed the storm brewing in his mind¡ªa fierce determination tempered by careful calculation. He raised his arm slowly, commanding silence. The air in the cavern grew heavy, the gravity of his presence drawing all eyes to him. Volk''s voice, deep and resonant, echoed through the space. "Brothers, sisters," he began, his tone carrying an undeniable authority. "The time of hiding is over. This day, we reclaim the skies and the ground beneath it." The orcs and ogres straightened, their fatigue momentarily forgotten, their chests swelling with resolve. Volk walked to the center of the cavern, his footsteps purposeful. He stopped, turning sharply to face them all. "But before we ascend, before we face those who dare hunt us," he said, his voice sharpening, "there is work to be done." He gestured toward a cluster of ogres to his left. "You, check every nook and cranny of this cave. I want no blind spots. Map out the tunnels. If there are secondary exits, I need to know about them. Mark each with something visible¡ªclaw marks, rocks, anything that will guide us swiftly if we must retreat or flank." The ogres nodded, their heavy brows furrowing in concentration as they prepared to carry out their task. Volk turned to a group of orcs seated near the mouth of the cave. "You," he commanded, pointing at them with a clawed finger, "return to the trails we left yesterday. Obscure them further, but not too perfectly. Let the harpies think they still have the upper hand. Make it messy¡ªchaotic. Scatter rocks, create false paths, leave faint traces that lead to dead ends." An orc raised his hand hesitantly. "But, Lord Volk," he said, his voice gruff, "won''t they see through such tricks?" Volk smiled coldly, his tusks glinting in the dim light. "Let them see through it," he said. "The more they think they''re clever, the deeper they''ll fall into our web. Trust me. Confusion is our weapon now." He pivoted again, addressing another cluster of his warriors. "You will scout the surface," he barked. "Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Study their formations, their movements. Count their numbers. If the skies are still full of their kind, report back immediately. If the skies are clear, we advance." A ripple of murmurs spread through the horde, but Volk silenced them with a raised hand. "This task is vital," he said. "Without this information, we are blind. And blind warriors are dead warriors." He paused, letting his words sink in, then turned to his most trusted lieutenants. "The rest of you," he said, "will prepare. Sharpen your weapons. Reinforce your armor with what you can find. The harpies believe they hold the skies, but I intend to clip their wings. When the time comes, we will show them the strength of those who fight for survival, not arrogance." Volk''s pacing came to a halt. He stood at the center once more, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed his troops. His voice dropped lower, but its intensity did not waver. "Today is not about vengeance," he said. "It is about reclaiming our right to exist. They think us weak because we hide. Let them think it. Let them descend into this cave, into the heart of our strength. And when they do¡ª" His fist shot into the air, clenching tightly. "We will crush them!" The cave erupted in a chorus of roars and battle cries, the sound reverberating through the cavern like thunder. Volk let the fervor swell before raising his hand again to restore order. "And now," he said, his voice steady, "to the surface. Let the skies know we do not cower. Move out!" One by one, the orcs and ogres began their tasks. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The scouts crept toward the cave''s entrance, their movements deliberate and silent. The ogres lumbered deeper into the cave, their massive forms disappearing into the darkness as they mapped the tunnels. Others set about sharpening their weapons, their faces grim and determined. As his warriors dispersed, Volk remained still, his eyes fixed on the faint light filtering into the cave. ¡­ Volk was making his way back along the concealed trails his horde had left behind, his mind still stewing over the potential confrontation with the harpies, when the first complaints reached his ears. An Ogre limped toward him, his massive leg marred by deep, jagged wounds. "Chief!" the Ogre growled, frustration etched into his face. "This trail is cursed! My leg¡ªit got sliced by something sharp. I didn''t even see it!" Volk raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, another Orc stumbled forward, clutching his shoulder where a crude spike trap had embedded itself. "It''s not just him, Chief! I almost lost my arm back there! What kind of magic are these harpies using?" More voices began to rise from behind, echoing through the dense undergrowth and faintly along the cave walls. One Ogre collapsed onto his knees, gritting his teeth as he pulled out a series of sharpened stakes lodged in his side. "I thought this path was safe!" he snarled. Another Orc, bloodied but seething, stormed to Volk''s side. "We''ve already lost two of our best trackers, Chief! Something''s wrong. Are we being hunted?" Volk''s eyes darted to the surrounding trees and ground, and an uncomfortable realization dawned upon him. These weren''t traps set by the harpies¡ªthey were his traps. He''d meticulously crafted and laid them to ensure the enemy couldn''t escape if they followed. They were designed for winged creatures swooping low or descending to the forest floor in search of an advantage. Yet somehow, his own horde had managed to trigger nearly all of them. Hahaha he almost choked on his own saliva. The chorus of complaints only grew louder. "I stepped into a loop snare!" cried a particularly enraged Orc, hoisting his swollen, bound leg into the air. "I nearly lost my head to a tripwire!" shouted another, whose helmet was now grotesquely dented from where a log trap had struck it. "Are we fighting ghosts or harpies?" "My axe broke trying to hack through some hidden spikes!" "My foot! My foot! It''s gone!" wailed an Ogre, who was currently being supported by two Orcs, his face pale with shock. Volk froze for a moment, his usually commanding composure wavering. His eyes were saying something else, but immediately he knew he should compose himself. He clenched his jaw and quickly assessed the situation, only to realize the damage was far worse than he initially thought. Almost every member of his horde bore fresh wounds¡ªcuts, punctures, gashes, and bruises, all inflicted by his own traps. Yes, almost every member of his horde bore fresh wounds¡ªcuts, punctures, gashes, and bruises, all inflicted by his own traps. By his own very traps! Volk couldn''t help but laugh inwardly inside. Somehow, he is enjoying this but he knew he shouldn''t because these creatures were simple minded and might think that he is their enemy. He didn''t want his small backup army to lose trust in him. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted. One particularly sharp-witted Orc narrowed his eyes at Volk. "Chief, this doesn''t feel like harpy work. Their magic is precise and designed to wear us down from the air. These traps¡ªthey''re too crude for harpies but too effective against ground forces like us." Another Ogre joined in, his tone accusing. "Yeah, Chief, these traps look like something we''d make." Volk could feel the weight of dozens of eyes boring into him, each questioning his leadership. He cleared his throat awkwardly, raising a hand to silence the murmurs and grumbles. He straightened his posture, drawing upon the authority that had always been his strength. "It seems the harpies are craftier than we gave them credit for," Volk said, his voice gruff but steady. "They must have anticipated our retreat into the forest and set these traps to demoralize us. It is known that with their sharp eyes, and minds, they can pick up anything¡­ interesting¡­" A few of the Orcs exchanged skeptical glances, but most nodded along, their anger redirecting toward the harpies rather than their leader. Volk continued, his expression grim. "This only proves their cunning. They fear us¡ªfear me¡ªso much that they''ve resorted to desperate measures. We''ll take these wounds as badges of honor, proof that even cornered vermin are willing to strike out before they''re crushed beneath our boots!" The horde let out a scattered but half-hearted cheer, though the pain and frustration in their eyes lingered. As Volk turned away, he muttered under his breath, "Damn harpies," knowing full well that the only ''vermin'' responsible for this disaster was him. Chapter 303 - 303: Disabling traps The cavern loomed large and dark, its jagged walls faintly illuminated by the dim, bioluminescent moss that clung to its edges. The cavern floor was a sprawling labyrinth of uneven stone, cracked crevices, and puddles of stagnant water. Each step echoed with a hollow tap-tap as the massive horde of Orcs and Ogres trudged forward. Their guttural voices reverberated off the walls as they argued and grunted, brimming with anticipation. Many of them, clad in rough-hewn armor, carried crude weapons¡ªjagged axes, chipped swords, and clubs studded with bone. They were ready for war, ready to charge into the open air and face the harpy people. Volk stood at the edge of the group, silent and calculating. The skeletal remains of his undead subordinates formed a quiet, macabre ring around him. Their bones clinked softly, a hollow clack-clack, with each subtle movement. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, though he kept his hood drawn low to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. He had already dealt with the harpies, a fact he had chosen to keep hidden from his horde. The battle had been swift and brutal. Feathers and blood had painted the cold stone red as he cut through their ranks with methodical precision. Every harpy''s shriek, every desperate screee of wings beating against his encroaching horde of undead, still lingered in his ears. But his horde didn''t know. The Orcs and Ogres hadn''t seen the lifeless bodies scattered across the rocky terrain far above them. They hadn''t seen Volk''s traps snapping shut with snap-crack! precision or the cruel spikes hidden beneath the loose gravel impaling their foes. They didn''t know how the battle had ended before it had even begun. And Volk intended to keep it that way. Volk''s voice cut through the restless grumbling like a blade through flesh. "Hold," he commanded, his tone low and calm, yet filled with authority. The horde stopped, though the air remained heavy with anticipation. Weapons scraped against stone as they shifted in their hands, the Orcs and Ogres glaring at each other with barely restrained impatience. One particularly massive Ogre, with a scar that split his face in two, stepped forward. His voice was deep and gravelly, like the rumbling of distant thunder. "We''re ready, Volk. The harpies won''t stand a chance against us." His lips curled into a savage grin, revealing jagged, yellow teeth. The others grunted in agreement, some slamming their weapons against their shields with loud clang-clang! sounds of approval. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk turned to face them fully, his cloak billowing slightly as he moved. His undead minions shuffled behind him, their hollow sockets gazing lifelessly ahead. "No," he said, his voice carrying a hint of steel. "We''re not ready." A chorus of protests erupted from the horde. "Not ready?" "We''ve waited long enough!" "The harpies are cowards! Let us spill their blood!" The Ogre with the scar snarled, his muscles rippling as he clenched his fists. "Why should we wait? We''ve trained. We''ve prepared. The harpy people will fall before our strength!" Volk raised a hand, and silence fell, though the tension in the air was palpable. "The harpies are cunning," he said, his voice measured. "They''ve littered the surface with traps. Hidden pits. Poisonous spikes. Their strategy is not to face us head-on but to whittle us down with ambushes. If we charge forward recklessly, we will lose far more than we gain." The horde murmured among themselves, but the fire in their eyes dimmed slightly. Volk could see doubt creeping into their minds, but it wasn''t enough. Not yet. He gestured to the depths of the cave behind them. "I set traps as well," he continued. "Traps designed to counter the harpies'' ambushes. But they must be studied. Improved. If we rush forward now, we''ll be walking into their claws blindly. We need to go back. Study the traps. Understand their weaknesses and strengths. Only then will we be truly prepared to face the harpy people." The Ogre growled low in his throat. "Study? We''re warriors, not scholars. Why waste time on such nonsense when we could be spilling blood?" Volk''s gaze hardened, and his aura shifted. The undead at his back stirred, their bones scraping together with a chilling creeeek-creeek. "Do you think war is just about strength?" he asked, his voice as sharp as a blade. "Do you think brute force will win you victory? If you charge forward without strategy, you''ll die. Your bodies will be torn apart, your blood will soak the ground, and the harpies will feast on your flesh. Is that what you want?" The Ogre took a step back, his confidence faltering. The rest of the horde fell silent, their eyes fixed on Volk. The weight of his words pressed down on them, as heavy as the stone walls surrounding them. "We go back," Volk said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We study the traps. We prepare. And when the time comes to face the harpies, we will crush them. Not as reckless fools, but as an unstoppable force." The horde hesitated, their defiance wavering. Volk could see the gears turning in their minds, their reluctance clashing with their survival instincts. He knew it wouldn''t be easy to convince them. They were Orcs and Ogres, creatures of instinct and bloodlust. But Volk had faced worse challenges. He had faced death itself and emerged victorious. He could handle this. The Ogre with the scar grunted, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine," he said grudgingly. "We''ll do it your way. But this better not be a waste of time." Volk nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It won''t be," he said. "I promise you that." With that, the horde turned and began making their way back into the depths of the cave. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the cavern, a rhythmic thud-thud-thud that reverberated off the walls. Volk followed behind them, his undead minions moving in eerie silence. He felt a flicker of satisfaction. The harpies were already dead, their traps dismantled. But his horde didn''t need to know that. They needed to believe in the threat. They needed to believe in the necessity of preparation. Only then would they be ready for the battles to come. As they descended deeper into the cave, Volk''s mind raced. He would use this time to strengthen his control over the horde, to cement his authority. He would study their weaknesses, their strengths, and ensure that they were as prepared as they believed themselves to be. And when the time came to reveal the truth about the harpies, he would do so in a way that would solidify his place as their leader. The horde grumbled and muttered as they moved, their frustration palpable. But they followed. They obeyed. And that was all that mattered. Volk allowed himself a small, grim smile. The cave was eerily silent when night fell. Only the faint drip-drip of water seeping through the jagged stone ceiling and the low, rhythmic snores of the Horde broke the oppressive stillness. The massive forms of Orcs and Ogres lay sprawled across the cavern floor, their heavy bodies rising and falling with each breath. The makeshift camp was littered with crude bedrolls, scattered weapons, and the remnants of a hasty meal. A low, smoky fire in the center of the chamber crackled weakly, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls like restless spirits. Volk lay still among them, his hood pulled low, his body shrouded in the thick, black cloak that made him appear like little more than an ominous shadow. His breathing was slow, deliberate, blending seamlessly with the quiet rhythm of the slumbering Horde. His undead minions, hidden deeper in the cave, stood motionless, like statues carved from bone and malice. The Horde thought he, too, slept. They thought he shared their exhaustion after the long day of marching, planning, and arguing. But Volk didn''t need sleep¡ªnot like they did. He opened his eyes. The crimson glow in his gaze was faint, barely noticeable in the dim firelight. He shifted slowly, carefully, like a predator moving through tall grass, ensuring that even the sharpest ears in the Horde wouldn''t hear a thing. The rustle of his cloak was softer than the whisper of a breeze. His movements were calculated, each one deliberate and precise. He had perfected this routine over countless nights. This was not the first time he moved among the Horde unnoticed, and it wouldn''t be the last. Rising to his feet, Volk stepped silently over the sleeping forms of his followers. His boots touched the stone floor with practiced grace, producing no more sound than the soft pat-pat of falling leaves. He navigated the camp with an almost supernatural ease, weaving between snoring Orcs and sprawled Ogres. One particularly massive Orc stirred in his sleep, a low growl rumbling from his throat as he shifted position. Volk froze, his muscles coiled like a spring. The Orc mumbled something incoherent, then rolled onto his side, his breathing evening out once more. Volk moved on. He reached the edge of the camp and paused, glancing back over his shoulder. Chapter 304 - 304: Outside The Horde was oblivious, lost in their dreams of battle and bloodshed. Satisfied, Volk stepped into the deeper shadows of the cave, where the faint firelight couldn''t reach. The darkness swallowed him whole, and he became one with it, a phantom gliding through the void. The deeper he went, the quieter the cave became. The snoring faded into the distance, replaced by the faint echoes of his footsteps against the stone¡ªsoft tap-tap-tap sounds that seemed to stretch endlessly in the cavernous space. The air grew colder, sharper, as if the cave itself was holding its breath. Volk welcomed the chill. It was familiar, a reminder of the countless nights he had spent alone, planning, scheming, and acting in the shadows while others rested. Eventually, he emerged into a narrow tunnel that led upward, toward the surface. The path was treacherous, winding and uneven, with loose stones that threatened to shift underfoot. But Volk knew it well. He had traveled it many times before, laying the very traps he was now returning to dismantle. He ascended with ease, his every step careful and precise. His boots scraped against the stone with the faintest scritch-scritch, a sound that would have been lost entirely if not for the oppressive silence around him. As he climbed, his mind wandered. The Horde believed his warnings about the harpies. They believed his insistence that the traps needed to be studied. But Volk knew better. The traps were a charade, a smokescreen to keep the Horde occupied, to buy him time. The harpies were already dead, their bodies reduced to lifeless husks by his hand. There was no threat, no ambush waiting on the surface. But the Horde didn''t need to know that. They needed purpose, direction, something to rally around. Volk provided that, even if it was built on lies. He reached the first trap, a pit concealed beneath a thin layer of gravel and dried leaves. The mechanism was simple yet effective, designed to give way under the weight of a harpy and send it plunging onto the sharpened spikes below. Volk crouched beside it, his fingers brushing against the edge of the pit. The faint clink of metal spikes shifting echoed in the tunnel as he carefully began to disarm it. Piece by piece, he dismantled the trap. The spikes were pulled from their sockets with a soft creak, the gravel smoothed over with quiet precision. When he finished, the pit looked like nothing more than an ordinary patch of rocky ground. He moved on. The next trap was a cluster of tripwires strung between jagged stalagmites, connected to a crude but deadly mechanism involving a falling slab of stone. Volk disarmed it with the same meticulous care, his hands moving deftly in the darkness. The wire twanged faintly as he severed it, and the stone slab shifted slightly before he secured it in place, ensuring it would pose no threat to anyone passing through. One by one, he dismantled the traps, each one vanishing into obscurity as if it had never been there at all. His movements were precise, methodical, like a craftsman undoing his own masterpiece. The process was slow, deliberate, and utterly silent. By the time he reached the last trap¡ªa particularly vicious contraption involving poison-tipped spikes¡ªhours had passed. The faintest hint of predawn light was beginning to filter into the cave, casting a pale, cold glow on the stone walls. Volk straightened, his task complete. The traps were gone, erased from existence. The surface was now as empty and barren as it had been before he began his campaign against the harpies. He stood there for a moment, his crimson eyes scanning the area, ensuring that no trace of his work remained. Satisfied, he turned and began his descent. The journey back to the Horde''s camp was as silent and careful as his ascent had been. The faint tap-tap of his boots against the stone was the only sound in the oppressive stillness of the cave. When he reached the camp, the Horde was still asleep, their heavy snores filling the air. Volk moved among them like a shadow, slipping back into his place without a single sound. He lay down, his cloak wrapping around him like a shroud, and closed his eyes. To the Horde, it would seem as if he had never left. ¡­ The next morning arrived with the faint echoes of stirring bodies and low, guttural grunts. The Horde slowly roused from their sleep, stretching their bulky limbs and shaking off the last vestiges of slumber. The dying embers of the fire crackled weakly, spitting faint sparks as one of the Orcs nudged it back to life with a long stick. The air was heavy with the familiar stench of unwashed bodies, burnt meat, and the faint metallic tang of weapons. Orcs barked orders at one another, their deep voices ricocheting off the cavern walls. Ogres stomped around the camp, their heavy footfalls thud-thudding like distant drums. Weapons were picked up, armor adjusted, and the Horde prepared to move once again. Volk stood apart, his cloak draped around him like a mantle of shadows. His undead minions remained unseen, hidden deeper within the darkness of the cave. His crimson eyes scanned the Horde as they prepared, watching their movements with a calculating gaze. "Time to move," Volk said, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. The Horde gathered quickly, their focus shifting to their leader. The massive Ogre with the scar, who had been the most vocal about charging forward, stepped closer. He grunted as he slung a massive spiked club over his shoulder. "Finally. The harpy people won''t know what hit them," he said, a savage grin splitting his face. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk nodded, though his expression remained unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. "Stay alert," he said. "We''ll be moving through territory they''ve likely trapped. Keep your eyes open. Any sign of their work, you report it to me immediately." The Horde grunted in acknowledgment, though some exchanged uneasy glances. They remembered Volk''s warnings from the previous day, about the cunning traps that littered the surface. The tension in the air was palpable as they fell into formation, the Orcs and Ogres lining up in a chaotic but effective marching order. Volk led them forward, his steps steady and deliberate. The cavern''s twisting passageways stretched before them, illuminated only by the faint bioluminescent moss clinging to the walls. The Horde moved cautiously, their weapons held at the ready, their eyes darting to every shadow and crevice. But as they pressed onward, an unease began to creep through the group. The traps Volk had warned them about were nowhere to be seen. The first to notice was a wiry Orc with a patch over one eye. He stopped abruptly, his brow furrowing as he crouched down to inspect the ground. "This doesn''t feel right," he muttered, running his hand over the gravel. "There should be something here. A pit, a tripwire¡ªanything." Another Orc joined him, his heavy boots crunching on the stone. "Maybe we''re in the wrong place," he said, though his voice was uncertain. The scarred Ogre growled, his impatience flaring. "Keep moving," he snapped. "You think the harpies are just going to sit there waiting for us? Volk knows what he''s doing." The others hesitated but eventually obeyed, their concerns buried beneath the weight of the Ogre''s authority. Volk, walking at the head of the group, kept his gaze forward, his expression unreadable. He could feel their unease growing, their questions bubbling beneath the surface. But he knew they wouldn''t press him. Not yet. The same pattern repeated itself as they continued their march. Places where traps should have been were conspicuously empty. No pits. No wires. No poison-tipped spikes. The Horde grew restless, their murmurs spreading like ripples through the group. "Where are they?" one Orc whispered. "This doesn''t make sense," another muttered. But each time doubt surfaced, Volk kept them moving. His presence was a commanding force, one that quelled their uncertainty with a single glance. "The harpies may have moved their traps," Volk said without breaking stride. His voice was calm, authoritative, but offered no further explanation. And the Horde, despite their doubts, followed. The air grew lighter as they neared the cave''s exit. The faint, cold light of morning seeped into the darkness, casting long, pale beams across the jagged stone walls. The sound of dripping water grew fainter, replaced by the distant whhhsssshhh of wind sweeping through the mountains beyond. As they emerged into the open air, the Horde paused, their eyes adjusting to the brightness. The cave''s mouth opened onto a sprawling landscape of rocky cliffs and jagged peaks, bathed in the soft light of dawn. The sky above was a pale, washed-out blue, streaked with wisps of gray clouds. A brisk wind whipped through the group, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and frost. Volk stepped out first, his cloak billowing behind him as he surveyed the terrain. His crimson eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the barren rocks and distant slopes. There were no harpies, no signs of life. The battlefield he had left behind was already reclaiming itself, nature swallowing the evidence of his ruthless efficiency. The Horde gathered behind him, their grumbling replaced by silence as they took in the vast expanse before them. For a moment, no one spoke. The unease about the missing traps was forgotten, swept away by the sheer scope of the land before them. Volk turned to face them, his hooded figure silhouetted against the morning light. "We move forward," he said, his voice firm. "Stay sharp. The harpy people won''t be far from here." And with that, he led them onward, his steps steady and sure as he guided the Horde into the unknown. Chapter 305 - 305: Horde ready Volk''s voice rang out as the Horde stood gathered just beyond the cave''s mouth, their breath clouding in the crisp morning air. His crimson eyes swept over the mass of Orcs and Ogres, their rough-hewn armor glinting faintly in the pale sunlight. Weapons were gripped tightly in massive hands, and tension hummed through the group like a drawn bowstring. "Be ready," Volk commanded, his tone sharp as steel. "Always." The Horde roared their affirmation, a cacophony of guttural shouts that echoed off the rocky cliffs around them. Orcs thumped their fists against their crude chest plates with loud clang-clang-clang! sounds, while Ogres slammed the hafts of their weapons into the ground, creating deep, resounding boom-boom vibrations that seemed to shake the earth itself. The noise was both chaotic and disciplined, a display of raw power and unity. Volk''s cloak flared as he raised a hand for silence, and the Horde stilled almost instantly. He began to walk in front of them, his steps deliberate, his voice cutting through the mountain wind like a blade. "The harpy people may not be the only danger," he said, his tone grave. "Do not look only to the skies. Do not let your guard fall because the cliffs look empty or the ground seems clear. Dangers do not always announce themselves." The Horde murmured among themselves, glancing toward the jagged peaks and the open sky. A few Orcs shifted uncomfortably, their eyes flickering between the high, craggy cliffs and the shadowy slopes below. "You will stay alert," Volk continued, his voice rising to ensure none could miss his words. "If you hear something, see something, feel something¡ªyou report it immediately. If you hesitate, you''ll die. And if you die, you''ll weaken the Horde." His crimson eyes narrowed, the faint glow behind his hood flickering ominously. "I will not tolerate weakness." The scarred Ogre grunted, his massive spiked club resting on his shoulder. "We''ll march, Volk," he growled, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. "We''ll stay sharp." "Then move," Volk said, pointing down the rocky path ahead. "March." The Horde fell into formation, their heavy boots pounding the earth with a steady thud-thud-thud. .Armor clanged and creaked as they moved, the metallic din punctuated by the occasional grunt or growl. Their eyes darted everywhere¡ªup to the vast expanse of sky where clouds drifted lazily, down to the uneven ground littered with jagged stones, and across the ridges of the cliffs where shadows stretched and danced in the shifting light. Volk walked at the head of the group, his dark cloak trailing behind him like the shadow of a predator. He kept his gaze forward, but his ears remained tuned to the Horde''s movements, every step, every clang, every faint breath. His own senses stretched out across the rocky terrain, searching for anything that might be amiss. Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, casting harsh light across the barren landscape. The Horde''s pace was relentless, the sound of their march echoing endlessly through the mountain valleys. The rocky path wound through narrow passes and opened onto sweeping ridges that overlooked the rugged expanse below. Despite their vigilance, nothing appeared¡ªno signs of life, no whispers of wings, no ambushes waiting to spring. The Ogres grew restless first. Their heavy bodies were built for brute force, not endless walking. They grumbled to themselves, their massive weapons clinking against their backs. The Orcs, too, began to falter in their focus, their eyes drifting more toward their own boots than the surrounding terrain. Volk stopped suddenly, raising a hand. The Horde halted behind him with a chorus of surprised grunts and the sharp clang of weapons scraping against armor. "Complacency will kill you faster than any enemy," Volk said, his voice cutting through their growing fatigue like a whip. He turned, his crimson gaze sweeping over the group. "You think there''s nothing out there because you haven''t seen it? That''s exactly what gets fools killed. Look up. Look around. Look down. Danger doesn''t always announce itself with a roar." The Horde straightened, their grumbles silenced. Some exchanged wary glances, their focus sharpening once again. Volk continued. "We move forward, but cautiously. This terrain is too open, too quiet. We need to know what lies ahead before we march into it blindly." He turned toward a cluster of Orcs at the edge of the group, their wiry frames and keen eyes marking them as scouts. "You four," he commanded, pointing at them. "Fan out. Search the cliffs, the slopes, and the skies. Look for anything¡ªtracks, signs of movement, disturbances in the terrain. Report back immediately if you find anything." The scouts nodded, their movements swift and efficient as they slipped away from the group. They moved like shadows, their forms blending into the rugged landscape as they spread out to search the area. Volk turned back to the Horde. "The rest of you will wait here. Weapons ready. Eyes sharp." The Horde obeyed, forming a loose circle with weapons drawn. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The air grew tense as the minutes dragged on, the silence broken only by the faint whisper of the wind and the occasional clink of shifting armor. Some of the Orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their hands tightening on their weapons. The Ogres stood stoic but watchful, their heavy breaths filling the void. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the first scout returned. He approached Volk with quick, sure steps, his expression grim. "Nothing," the scout said, his voice low but steady. "No tracks. No signs of movement. The cliffs are empty." Moments later, the other scouts returned, one by one, each with the same report. No traps. No enemies. No signs of life. The Horde murmured uneasily, their earlier restlessness returning. Volk listened to the scouts'' reports without a word, his face unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. When the last scout finished speaking, he nodded once, his crimson gaze turning toward the distant horizon. "Then we move forward," he said. His voice was calm, unshaken, but carried an edge that left no room for argument. The Horde obeyed, their unease fading into silence as they fell into formation once more. And so, they marched again, their footsteps echoing through the barren expanse, moving ever closer to whatever awaited them beyond the mountains. Inside Volk''s mind, a storm brewed. The weight of his decisions pressed heavily on him, though he wore his stoic mask as if nothing troubled him. His crimson eyes remained forward, but his thoughts churned with guilt. The truth gnawed at him like a parasite. He had already dealt with the harpy people¡ªslaughtered them all during the long, lonely nights when his horde slept in ignorance. It was for their sake, he told himself. If he hadn''t acted, the harpy people would have overwhelmed the horde, picking them apart from the skies with surgical precision. Volk clenched his fists under his cloak, nails digging into his palms. If it weren''t for the cave''s natural cover, he might have been forced to reveal his radioactive form¡ªhis greatest and most dangerous trump card¡ªto every single member of his horde. And that was unacceptable. His radioactive form was a weapon, but it came with a price. The raw, destructive energy he could unleash wasn''t something he wanted his followers to witness, let alone understand. It was power meant for enemies, not allies. If they saw it, fear could spread like a plague. Fear bred distrust, and distrust was poison to any leader. He exhaled softly, a sound almost lost in the brisk wind. But even as guilt and pragmatism warred within him, another thought struck him. They needed an aerial assault force. As he glanced at the distant peaks and the open sky, a grim realization crept in. If the harpy people had been more organized or numerous, even his covert actions might not have been enough. His horde lacked a way to counter threats that came from above. The idea planted itself firmly in his mind. He would need a solution for the future¡ªsomething that could keep his forces safe from aerial predators. But before he could think further, a sudden commotion broke his thoughts. "Tracks!" one of the Orc scouts shouted, his voice sharp with urgency. The scout came running back toward the group, his boots skidding on loose gravel. "Fresh tracks¡ªnearby! Harpy people!" The Horde erupted into murmurs and growls. Weapons were adjusted, armor tightened. The scarred Ogre stepped forward, his massive form looming over the scout. "How fresh?" he demanded, his tone a mix of suspicion and eagerness. The scout nodded quickly. "Fresh enough that they might still be here. Just over the ridge." Before Volk could issue an order, his vision suddenly blurred. Ding! A translucent screen appeared before his eyes, faintly glowing with golden light. The suddenness of it made him pause, though his expression betrayed nothing. The text on the screen was sharp, clear, and impossible to ignore. --- Mission: Find the lair of the harpy people within thirty minutes. Failure Consequences: The map to the elven continent will lose half of its information. Rewards: Ten Aerial Assault Goblin Slaves. --- Volk''s jaw tightened, but the message wasn''t finished. Another series of options appeared below the primary mission: --- Optional Timed Objectives: Complete in 25 minutes: Lose one-quarter of map information. Rewards: 15 Aerial Assault Goblin Slaves. Complete in 20 minutes: No map penalties. Rewards: 20 Aerial Assault Goblin Slaves. Complete in 15 minutes: Bonus resources included. Rewards: 25 Aerial Assault Goblin Slaves. Complete in 10 minutes: Enhanced Goblin Squadron. Rewards: 30 Elite Aerial Goblin Slaves. Complete in 5 minutes: Maximum reinforcement potential. Rewards: 50 Elite Aerial Goblin Slaves with Artillery. Chapter 306 - 306: Harpy Mission Volk''s crimson eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information. His mind raced, calculating the risks and rewards. The message wasn''t just an annoyance¡ªit was a demand. The penalty for failure, the reward system, the pressure of a ticking clock¡ªit all felt like a cruel joke. But there was no time to dwell on it. Volk glanced at the scout who had found the tracks, then at the restless Horde behind him. If they could find the lair quickly, he could secure a vital resource. He had no illusions about what the "goblin slaves" implied. They would be disposable assets, perfect for aerial engagements. He straightened, his expression hardening into something cold and unyielding. "We move immediately," Volk barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. He turned to the scarred Ogre and pointed toward the ridge. "You''ll lead the main force along this path. Weapons ready. Move cautiously but swiftly." The Ogre thumped his chest in acknowledgment, bellowing orders to the others. Volk then looked to his scouts. "You''ll fan out again," he commanded, his tone icy and precise. "Focus on the skies and the ridges. If there''s a lair, I want its location now. Report the moment you find it. No delays, no mistakes." The scouts nodded, their faces tense but determined as they sprinted off into the wilds. Finally, Volk''s gaze turned to the remaining members of his horde. "The rest of you will stay in formation. Weapons ready. Keep an eye on everything¡ªrocks, cliffs, shadows. Harpies aren''t the only threat in these mountains." The Horde roared their agreement, their energy renewed by the possibility of battle. Volk stepped forward, leading the way as they moved with a mixture of speed and caution. His eyes flicked toward the translucent screen still hovering at the edge of his vision. The timer had already begun counting down. 29:15¡­ S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The seconds ticked away relentlessly. The Horde advanced, their boots pounding the ground with a steady rhythm. Scouts darted through the terrain, their sharp eyes scanning every crevice and outcropping. The tension was palpable, a coiled spring ready to snap. Finally, as the timer reached the twenty-minute mark, the scouts began to return. One by one, they arrived, their expressions grim but unified in their reports. "Nothing," the first said, shaking his head. "No sign of the lair," said another. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he processed the information. His mind raced, considering the possibilities. The harpy people couldn''t have vanished entirely. There had to be something they were missing. For now, however, he gave no outward reaction. "Hold position," he ordered, his voice calm but firm. "We keep moving forward. The lair will reveal itself soon enough." And with that, Volk led his Horde onward, his crimson gaze fixed on the distant peaks as the timer continued its relentless countdown. As the scouts returned one by one with empty-handed reports, Volk''s crimson eyes narrowed. His fingers twitched under his cloak, tapping against his thigh as he weighed his options. He could feel the timer ticking in the back of his mind, each passing second a silent taunt. Finally, he let out a low, sharp breath and reached into the leather pouch hanging from his belt. The worn material creaked softly as his hand brushed past dried herbs, sharpened flint, and a handful of polished black stones. His fingers closed around a tightly rolled piece of parchment. With a smooth motion, Volk unfurled the map, its edges fraying from wear. The detailed contours of the mountain range stretched out before him in inked precision. Rivers marked as faint blue lines cut through the jagged terrain, while peaks and cliffs rose like scars across the parchment. Tiny symbols dotted key locations¡ªancient ruins, caves, narrow passes, and forgotten paths that twisted through the wilderness. Volk''s eyes darted across the map, scanning it with a hunter''s intensity. The Horde stood behind him, their restless murmurs a background hum, but Volk tuned them out. His focus was absolute, the weight of the mission pressing on him. He crouched low, spreading the map across a flat boulder, and began to mumble to himself. "The harpy people wouldn''t stay near the lower ridges," he muttered, his voice low but firm, as if thinking aloud helped him sharpen his focus. "Too exposed. Not enough vertical coverage. They thrive on high ground¡ªcliffs, overhangs, places where they can swoop down with the advantage of altitude." His finger traced a path along the map, stopping at a steep ravine marked by narrow cliff lines. He shook his head. "No. Too narrow. Their wingspan would make it impossible to maneuver efficiently. They''d risk being trapped if someone were to corner them there." He shifted his attention to another area¡ªan open plateau surrounded by dense trees. His lips tightened as he stared at it. "No. They avoid dense tree cover. Harpies prefer open skies. The canopy would hinder their flight, and they wouldn''t have a clear line of sight for aerial ambushes." The wind rustled the edges of the map, and Volk pressed it flat with one hand while continuing his murmurs. His thoughts were a relentless torrent, each possibility examined and discarded. "What about here?" His finger stopped on a marked cave system at the base of a jagged peak. He squinted, his mind racing through the logistics. "It''s deep enough to provide shelter... but the entry point is too exposed. Any attack on their lair would pin them inside. Too risky for them. They wouldn''t make that their stronghold." He moved on, his sharp eyes landing on a cluster of towering spires farther north. The jagged shapes bristled with danger, their sharp edges resembling the talons of some ancient beast. Volk''s brow furrowed. "These spires¡­ they''re high enough to give them dominance over the sky," he mused, his voice dropping even lower. "Plenty of perches for roosting. Open air for their maneuvers. Natural barriers against ground assaults. And they''re close enough to major passes to strike travelers or invaders without venturing too far from their lair. This¡­ this could be it." He paused, his gaze lingering on the spires, then shifted to another marked location¡ªa jagged cliffside riddled with narrow ledges. "Or here," he added, his voice laced with doubt. "The ledges could work as makeshift nests. The height would give them security. But it''s exposed to the wind. Harpies are resilient, but constant battering from mountain gales would weaken their defenses over time." Volk sighed and straightened, his eyes never leaving the map. His mind ticked through every possibility, every terrain feature that could serve as a harpy lair. His mumbling grew louder, almost as if he were arguing with himself. "Not too low. Not too high. Not too open, but not too closed. They''d want altitude for ambushes, but they''d avoid places that are easily collapsed or cornered. They''re cunning, but cautious. This¡­" His finger tapped on another location, an overhanging cliff with multiple escape routes leading into the sky. "This might be it. But then again¡­" He traced a line between the spires and the cliffside. "If they''re mobile, they could shift between these spots. Use one as a decoy while the true lair remains hidden. Or they could divide their forces¡ªsome here, some there. But if they''ve consolidated, they''d pick the stronger defensible position." Volk stood abruptly, folding the map with practiced ease. He turned toward his Horde, who watched him with a mix of impatience and curiosity. His voice, sharp and commanding, cut through their mutterings. "We spread out," Volk said, his tone brooking no argument. He stepped forward, his crimson gaze sweeping over the gathered Orcs and Ogres. "The harpy people could be in one of three locations. Scouts, you''ll head north to the spires. Stay low, stay quiet. Report back the moment you find signs of activity." The scouts nodded, their faces grim as they prepared to set off. "The rest of you will form three groups," Volk continued, gesturing with sharp, precise movements. "One group will sweep the ravine. Search for tracks, nests, or any signs of movement. The second group will head to the cliffs. Focus on the ledges¡ªcheck for fresh droppings, feathers, or disturbed rock. The final group stays with me. We''ll take the overhanging cliff." He turned to the scarred Ogre who had been his de facto second-in-command. "You''ll lead the group heading to the ravine," Volk said. "Keep your eyes sharp and your weapons ready. Harpies don''t fight fair. They''ll attack from above if they think they can catch you off guard." The Ogre thumped his chest, a low grunt of acknowledgment rumbling from his throat. Volk''s gaze hardened as he addressed the entire Horde. "Expect ambushes. Expect traps. Expect the unexpected. Harpies are fast, vicious, and intelligent. If you see one, there are likely more waiting just out of sight. Do not chase them blindly. Stay in formation, stay alert, and report anything unusual immediately." The Horde roared their agreement, their weapons clanging in a symphony of readiness. Volk folded his arms, his crimson eyes narrowing. The map and his deductions had given them a chance¡ªa thread to follow in this deadly game. Now it was up to them to find the harpy lair before time ran out. The translucent timer in his mind ticked down, relentless and cold, as the Horde began to spread out into the jagged wilderness. Chapter 307 - 307: Cry As Volk watched his horde spread out, their heavy boots crunching against the loose gravel and scattered rocks of the mountainside, he let out a silent breath. His hand rose to his brow, pretending to adjust his hood, but in truth, he was wiping away the thin sheen of sweat forming there. His fingers brushed over his scarred skin, cool against the heat of his concealed tension. Do I really have to do this? he thought, his crimson eyes narrowing. The mission screen in his vision still loomed at the edges, the timer ticking down mercilessly. The choices he had made thus far weighed heavily on his shoulders. The lies he told the Horde to keep them unified. The secrets he buried to keep them loyal. The things he had done in the dead of night to ensure their survival¡ªthings they could never know. He adjusted his cloak once more, making sure the gesture seemed natural. He couldn''t afford to show weakness. Not now. Not ever. "Damn this mountain," he muttered under his breath, his voice too low for anyone to hear. The winds carried his words into the void as if the elements themselves conspired to drown him in silence. "Damn these harpies. Damn this mission system and its cursed games." As if on cue, a sharp cry broke the quiet tension. "Chief!" Volk turned sharply, his crimson eyes locking onto one of the scouts sprinting toward him. The Orc was breathless, his broad chest heaving as he skidded to a halt, scattering dust and loose stones. The scout''s face was pale beneath his green skin, his eyes wide and wild with a mixture of excitement and fear. "What is it?" Volk demanded, his tone sharp and clipped. He stepped forward, towering over the scout, his presence an unyielding wall. "Report." The scout gulped down air, his voice cracking as he spoke. "I¡ªI saw it! A giant bird, Chief! Huge, with wings that blocked out the sun!" He stretched his arms wide as if trying to demonstrate its size. "It was perched on a rocky spire, circling a village below. Looked like¡­ like some kind of harpy tribe." The Horde, scattered nearby, froze at the words. Their murmurs began as a ripple before growing into a wave of excited chatter. Weapons clanged against armor as the warriors exchanged glances, their faces lighting up with anticipation. "A giant bird?" one of the Ogres rumbled, his voice a deep growl. "Could it be a harpy king? Or some kind of guardian beast?" Volk raised a hand, silencing the noise instantly. His crimson gaze bore into the scout. "You''re certain?" The scout nodded vigorously. "Yes, Chief! Its feathers shone like silver in the sun. Its eyes glowed red. And it was massive¡ªbigger than anything I''ve seen before! The harpies seemed to bow to it like it was some kind of god!" Volk''s jaw tightened. A giant bird. A harpy tribe. A guardian, perhaps? His mind raced with possibilities. This wasn''t just a random gathering of harpies; this sounded like an organized force. A stronghold. And that bird¡­ it could be a problem. The timer ticked in his vision, an ever-present reminder of the stakes. Volk straightened, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Everyone, prepare yourselves!" The command struck like thunder. The Horde erupted into a flurry of motion. Orcs tightened their belts, adjusted their armor, and strapped their weapons into place. Ogres tested the weight of their clubs and axes, their massive forms casting long shadows against the rocky ground. The metallic symphony of blades sliding from sheaths and shields being locked into position filled the air. "Check your gear!" Volk barked, his voice echoing across the mountain. "Sharpen your weapons! Ready your bows! Harpies are fast, and they won''t fight fair. Expect them to come from the skies, from the shadows, from places you''d never think to look. Stay vigilant!" The Orcs thumped their chests in unison, a resounding CLANG! that echoed like a war drum. Their eyes gleamed with determination as they fell into formation. Volk stalked through their ranks, his crimson gaze sharp as he inspected their readiness. His voice carried over the din, issuing orders with a precision that left no room for doubt. "Shield bearers, to the front! Archers, I want eyes on the skies at all times. If you see even a feather, you call it out. Mages, focus on area spells¡ªdon''t let them cluster together!" The Horde moved with military efficiency, their actions practiced and deliberate. Even the massive Ogres, who were often slow to respond, followed Volk''s commands with surprising speed. "Keep your lines tight!" Volk continued, his voice rising as he strode to the front. "Do not stray. Do not lose focus. Harpies are predators. They''ll target the weak and the distracted. If you see one of your comrades falter, you cover them. No one fights alone!" The Horde roared their agreement, the sound reverberating across the mountains. Volk paused, his eyes scanning the horizon. The wind carried the faint screech of distant birds, their cries sharp and mocking. He clenched his fist, the leather of his glove creaking under the strain. He turned back to his Horde, his voice dropping to a growl that carried the weight of command. "Remember this: we are not just fighting harpies. We are hunting them. They think they own these skies, but they''re wrong. Tonight, we take their stronghold. We take their pride. And we remind them why the Horde is unstoppable!" The warriors responded with a thunderous roar, their bloodlust ignited. The anticipation of battle crackled in the air like a storm on the verge of breaking. Volk drew his weapon, the blade gleaming like a shard of night. He raised it high, his crimson eyes blazing with intensity. "We move out," he declared, his voice a clarion call that demanded absolute obedience. The Horde surged forward, their steps a unified march that shook the earth beneath them. Volk turned, his gaze fixed on the distant spires where the harpy tribe awaited. A grim smile tugged at his lips. "Let us hunt those biiiiirds!" The Horde began their march with Volk at the lead, his crimson eyes scanning the terrain like a hawk. The air was heavy with anticipation, every step echoing against the jagged cliffs and barren rock of the mountain range. At first, the path was unremarkable. The ground beneath their boots was dry and cracked, a patchwork of dirt and scattered stones. The only sound was the rhythmic clanking of armor and weapons, the occasional grunt from an Ogre adjusting the weight of their massive club. Volk walked in silence, his weapon sheathed but his senses on high alert. His mind churned, analyzing every detail of the landscape. The peaks above loomed like silent sentinels, their sharp edges cutting into the pale sky. Thin wisps of clouds hung low, casting faint shadows across the rocky ground. Yet, for all its natural beauty, the area felt¡­ empty. Too empty. "There''s nothing here," grumbled one of the Orcs, his voice low but audible enough to break the stillness. "Keep moving," Volk snapped, his tone cutting through any potential dissent. He didn''t look back, his focus locked forward. "Tracks don''t always show themselves immediately. Harpies are clever. They don''t leave a trail unless they want to." The Horde continued, their march steady and relentless. The barren land began to change subtly. The ground grew softer, speckled with loose gravel and patches of dry grass. Volk''s sharp eyes caught the faintest impressions in the dirt¡ªsmall depressions that could easily be dismissed by the untrained. He knelt, brushing his gloved fingers over the marks. "Tracks," he murmured to himself. His voice was low, almost drowned out by the shuffle of the Horde behind him. He rose swiftly, motioning for the group to keep moving. As they pushed forward, more signs began to appear. A few scattered feathers, dark and jagged, stuck out from the earth like forgotten relics. Volk paused to pick one up, rolling it between his fingers. It was coarse and smelled faintly of sweat and blood. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "They''re near," he muttered under his breath. The tracks grew more frequent as the Horde moved deeper into the mountains. Scattered bones¡ªsmall and brittle¡ªlittered the path. Claw marks gouged into nearby rocks told of harpy talons gripping for purchase. Volk''s hand hovered near his weapon as the tension in the air grew thicker. "There!" shouted one of the scouts, pointing toward a patch of dirt where the ground was churned up in violent patterns. Volk strode forward, crouching to inspect the site. The indentations were deep and chaotic, as though a great struggle had taken place. Scraps of torn fabric clung to nearby bushes, and claw marks crisscrossed the ground. He narrowed his eyes, his mind piecing together the scene. "A feeding ground," he said finally, his voice cold and calculating. He stood, brushing the dirt from his gloves. "They dragged something¡ªor someone¡ªhere. Likely prey. They don''t linger long in one spot. This is fresh." The Horde murmured amongst themselves, their excitement bubbling beneath the surface. Volk raised a hand, silencing them with a single gesture. "Stay focused," he ordered. "The tracks are getting clearer. They''re leading us somewhere." They pressed on, the signs of harpy activity growing more blatant with every step. Feathers littered the ground in increasing numbers, some of them smeared with dried blood. Broken branches and disturbed earth marked the passage of creatures both swift and brutal. The occasional low growl or grunt rippled through the Horde as the warriors tightened their grips on their weapons. And then it came¡ªa sound that froze the entire Horde in their tracks. A piercing cry shattered the stillness, reverberating through the mountains like a thunderclap. The sound was sharp and mournful, a wailing screech that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Volk''s head snapped up, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scanned the skies. "What was that?" one of the Ogres rumbled, his deep voice tinged with unease. "A bird," Volk said tersely, though his jaw tightened as the cry echoed again. This time, it was closer, louder, more desperate. It wasn''t just any bird¡ªit was massive, its voice carrying the weight of something ancient and primal. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The cry came again, a long, drawn-out wail that sent shivers through the Horde. It wasn''t just a call; it was a lament, a sorrowful scream that seemed to claw at the soul. "It''s looking for something," Volk muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on the horizon. His mind raced, analyzing the sound. A harpy? No. Something bigger. Something angrier. The Horde pressed forward, their steps cautious now, every sound magnified in the oppressive quiet between the bird''s cries. The path narrowed, forcing them into single file as they wound through a jagged pass. The cries grew louder, more insistent, each one laced with frustration and grief. Volk''s hand rested on the hilt of his weapon, his knuckles white beneath his gloves. His mind churned with possibilities. A guardian? A mate? A scout? Why is it crying? What''s it searching for? Finally, as they rounded a sharp bend, the source of the cries came into view. Perched atop a massive spire of rock was a bird unlike anything Volk had ever seen. It was enormous, its wings folded against its body, but even at rest, its sheer size was awe-inspiring. Its feathers shimmered in the pale light, a blend of silver and charcoal that seemed to ripple like liquid metal. Its talons, each the size of a man''s arm, gripped the rock with a force that made cracks spiderweb outward. The bird''s head tilted back as it let out another cry, its beak wide and sharp as a scythe. Its glowing red eyes scanned the horizon, blazing with fury and sorrow. The Horde froze, their collective breath catching in their throats. "There it is," Volk said quietly, his voice steady but laced with an edge of grim determination. He turned to his warriors, his crimson eyes burning with command. "We''ve found our prey." Chapter 308 - 308: Strong The beast stood on the spire like a monarch surveying its kingdom. Its immense wings spread halfway open, their span easily twice the height of the tallest Ogre in the Horde. Each feather shimmered like molten silver, refracting the dim mountain light into shards of radiance that danced across the rocky terrain. Its chest, broad and powerful, rose and fell with each labored breath, the metallic sheen of its feathers making it appear as though it were sculpted from living steel. Its head, sharp and angular, seemed almost regal, crowned by a jagged crest of obsidian-like spikes that ran down its neck. Its glowing red eyes burned with fury, scanning the Horde below with an almost disdainful intelligence. The talons gripping the rocky perch dug deep grooves into the stone, each claw curved like a scimitar and dripping with a viscous, black ichor that hissed and smoked where it fell, melting the stone it touched. Volk''s crimson eyes locked onto the beast, and his lips curled into a tight snarl. He felt the weight of the Horde''s collective hesitation pressing against his back. He could sense their unease. This wasn''t just another foe¡ªit was a force of nature, a predator honed to perfection by centuries of dominance. But hesitation was not an option. "Attack it!" Volk roared, his voice slicing through the tension like a war drum. His blade shot upward, catching the light, and with that single motion, the Horde sprang into action. The ground trembled as the Ogres charged, their massive frames shaking loose boulders and sending debris tumbling down the mountainside. Orcs followed closely behind, their battle cries echoing through the peaks as they raised their weapons. Archers loosed volleys of arrows, their tips glinting like shards of sunlight as they arced toward the beast. The first arrows struck, clanging harmlessly off the creature''s metallic feathers like stones against steel. Ping! Ping! The sound rang out, a mocking reply to their efforts. The beast didn''t flinch. It tilted its head, those glowing red eyes narrowing as if in amusement. Then it moved. With a single, thunderous beat of its wings, the creature launched itself from the spire. The gust of wind it created was like a storm, throwing the nearest Orcs off their feet and sending arrows spiraling uselessly into the air. WHOOSH! Dust and loose stones kicked up in its wake, forcing the Horde to shield their eyes. "Hold the line!" Volk bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. He pointed his blade forward, signaling the Ogres to press the attack. The beast descended like a meteor, its talons outstretched and its cry piercing the air like a blade. KREEEEEEEEE! The first Ogre, a massive warrior wielding a tree-sized club, swung with all his might. The club struck the beast''s side, the impact reverberating through the air with a deafening BOOM! But the creature barely shifted, its feathers absorbing the blow like armor. It retaliated instantly, one talon slashing across the Ogre''s chest. Sparks flew as claw met armor, and the massive warrior staggered back, his chestplate torn and smoldering. Another Ogre roared and charged, swinging an enormous axe in a wide arc. The blade connected with the beast''s wing, carving a shallow groove through the metallic feathers. The creature screeched, a sound so loud and sharp it felt like nails scraping across the soul. It whipped its head around, its beak snapping shut inches from the Ogre''s face with a CRACK! Orcs swarmed in, their smaller frames darting between the Ogres to strike at the beast''s legs and underbelly. Swords, spears, and daggers rained down in a flurry of attacks. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! Most blows glanced off, their weapons scraping uselessly against the creature''s impenetrable feathers. "Focus on its wings!" Volk commanded, his voice a beacon amidst the cacophony. The archers adjusted their aim, targeting the creature''s joints where the wings connected to its body. A few arrows found their mark, piercing the softer, thinner membranes. The beast shrieked in pain, its wings faltering for a moment as blood¡ªthick and black as tar¡ªdripped to the ground. But the creature was far from finished. It lashed out with its talons, sweeping them across the ground in a wide arc. The Horde scattered, diving for cover as the claws tore through the earth, leaving deep gouges in their wake. One Orc wasn''t fast enough and was sent sprawling, his shield shattered into splinters. The beast reared up, its wings spreading wide. It flapped once, the force of the wind enough to send several Orcs tumbling backward. Dust and debris clouded the air, obscuring the battlefield. Volk moved through the chaos like a shadow, his blade flashing as he struck at the creature''s legs. His attacks were precise, aiming for the joints where the armor-like feathers thinned. Sparks flew with every strike, but the beast''s movements were too quick. It twisted and snapped at him, its beak narrowly missing as he ducked and rolled out of the way. An Ogre roared, charging in with a massive hammer. He brought it down with a thunderous CRASH! The ground trembled as the hammer struck the creature''s back, forcing it to stumble. The beast screeched in rage, its tail lashing out like a whip and catching the Ogre in the side. The massive warrior was sent flying, his body crashing into a boulder with a sickening THUD! "Regroup!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the din. The Horde fell back, forming a tight circle around the creature. The Ogres braced themselves, their weapons at the ready, while the Orcs shifted into flanking positions. The archers nocked fresh arrows, their aim steady despite the tremors running through the ground. The beast hissed, its chest heaving as it glared at the assembled Horde. Black ichor dripped from its wounds, staining the ground beneath it. Its feathers, once pristine, were now marred with gashes and streaks of blood. Yet, for all their efforts, the beast stood tall, defiant, and unbroken. "It''s strong," one of the Ogres muttered, his voice a low growl. His massive hands gripped his weapon tightly, the veins in his arms bulging with the effort. "But not unbeatable," Volk said, his voice firm. His crimson eyes burned with determination as he raised his blade once more. "We''re wearing it down. Stay together. Stay focused. We''ll take it down¡ªpiece by piece if we have to." The Horde roared in unison, their resolve unshaken despite the monster''s overwhelming power. They tightened their formation, preparing for the next wave. The beast, sensing the renewed determination of its foes, spread its wings once more, its glowing red eyes narrowing. It let out a final, ear-splitting KREEEEEEEE! before launching itself back into the fray. ¡­ The cacophony of battle surrounded Volk, yet he stood apart from the chaos, his crimson eyes locked onto the beast. His Horde fought valiantly, their roars and cries mingling with the screeches of the monstrous bird. The ground shook beneath their relentless attacks, but Volk was not there to simply join the fray. He had a different role¡ªa purpose far more critical. His sharp gaze studied the creature with an intensity that bordered on predatory. The beast was majestic in its terror, its massive wings beating the air in powerful bursts that sent gusts of wind ripping through the battlefield. Each flap scattered dust and debris, obscuring vision and throwing off the Horde''s coordinated strikes. The metallic sheen of its feathers caught the light, their surfaces appearing almost impervious to damage. It moved with a combination of raw power and grace, each motion a calculated strike that sent Ogres and Orcs sprawling. Volk''s mind raced as he analyzed its every move. Those feathers¡­ they''re not just armor, are they? They''re absorbing impact, deflecting blows. His eyes narrowed as he watched an Ogre''s hammer glance off the creature''s flank, the sound of the impact ringing out like steel against stone. It''s like the feathers are alive, reacting to each strike to minimize damage. He observed the way its talons gripped the earth, gouging deep trenches into the rocky ground. They weren''t just weapons; they were anchors, stabilizing the beast even against the combined assault of his Horde. It''s using the terrain to its advantage, Volk thought, his sharp mind piecing together the creature''s tactics. Every motion is deliberate. It''s not just fighting¡ªit''s outthinking us. His gaze shifted to its head, where the jagged crest of obsidian-like spikes gleamed menacingly. The spikes seemed almost ornamental at first glance, but the way they flared when the beast screeched suggested otherwise. A defense mechanism? Or maybe¡­ a signal? Volk wondered, his brow furrowing. As he watched, the creature let out another ear-splitting cry, its glowing red eyes narrowing as it scanned the battlefield. The sound seemed to invigorate the beast, as though it drew strength from its own voice. The Horde faltered briefly, their movements slowing under the oppressive weight of the sound. Volk gritted his teeth, his ears ringing from the piercing wail. That cry isn''t just a call¡ªit''s a weapon. He shifted his focus to the beast''s movements, the way its massive wings folded and unfolded with mechanical precision. The wings weren''t just tools for flight¡ªthey were shields, battering rams, and blades all at once. When an Orc charged from the side, the beast pivoted, one wing snapping outward with a WHUMP! The edge of the wing struck the Orc like a greatsword, sending him flying across the battlefield. Volk''s eyes narrowed further, his mind calculating. The wings are its greatest weapon. But they''re also its greatest liability. They''re massive, cumbersome¡­ and vulnerable at the joints. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. His gaze traveled downward, to the creature''s legs. Thick and muscular, they ended in talons that dripped with black ichor. Each step the beast took left smoldering imprints in the ground, the acidic liquid eating away at the stone. But as Volk watched, he noticed something peculiar: the beast''s movements were deliberate but not fluid. There was a stiffness in its stride, as though it favored one leg over the other. He studied the leg more closely, his sharp eyes catching the faintest hint of discoloration beneath the layers of feathers. A faint scar ran along the joint, its surface raw and uneven. An old injury, Volk realized, his lips curving into a sly smirk. That''s why it''s relying so heavily on its wings. It''s compensating for a weakness in its leg. But there was more. Volk''s eyes darted to the creature''s underbelly, where the feathers thinned slightly, revealing patches of exposed skin. He observed how it kept that part of its body shielded, turning its side toward the attackers and keeping its vulnerable underside out of reach. It knows its weaknesses and is guarding them well, he thought, his admiration for the beast growing despite himself. As the battle raged on, Volk began to notice patterns in the creature''s movements. When the Horde pressed too close, it would rear back, spreading its wings wide to create a buffer. When they tried to attack from range, it used its cry to disrupt their focus and scatter their formations. Its strategy was as sharp as its talons, its instincts honed by countless battles. Volk''s mind worked tirelessly, cataloging every detail, every motion, every reaction. The wings are armored. The talons are acidic. The cry disrupts coordination. But it''s not invincible. He replayed the creature''s movements in his head, dissecting each action with surgical precision. The old injury slows it down. The underbelly is soft. The wings can''t shield everything at once. Suddenly, his crimson eyes widened. His breath hitched as the pieces of the puzzle snapped into place. The wings¡ªthey''re the key. He watched as the beast lashed out with a powerful flap, sending another wave of Orcs sprawling. For all their strength and versatility, the wings were massive, unwieldy. When fully extended, they left the creature exposed at the joints and along its underbelly. Volk''s lips curled into a feral grin, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. He clenched his fist, the excitement coursing through him like a storm. The creature was strong¡ªimmensely so¡ªbut it wasn''t invincible. It had a weakness, and now Volk saw it clearly. He straightened, his blade gleaming as he raised it high. The battlefield seemed to slow around him, the cacophony of battle fading into the background. His voice rang out, cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Prepare yourselves! I''ve found its weakness!" Chapter 309 - 309: Renewed Volk''s voice thundered over the chaos, clear and commanding despite the raging battle. His blade caught the dim light as he pointed toward the massive bird''s wings and legs. "Focus your attacks on its joints and underbelly! Bring it down!" The Horde erupted into action, their ranks tightening and their movements sharpening with purpose. The Ogres roared, their voices like rolling thunder, and charged with renewed vigor. Each of them swung their massive weapons with deadly intent, aiming for the joints of the creature''s wings. Orcs surged forward, spears and axes at the ready, targeting the softer flesh of the beast''s exposed underbelly. But the beast was far from defenseless. As if sensing its peril, the bird unleashed a deafening cry that echoed through the peaks. KREEEEEEEEE! The sound rippled through the battlefield like a shockwave, causing the Horde to falter momentarily. Some clutched their ears in pain, their weapons wavering as the sound assaulted their senses. Volk pressed forward, cutting through the confusion with his blade and his voice. "Hold your ground! Push through it!" His crimson eyes burned with determination as he advanced, his every step deliberate. The beast reacted violently. It reared back, its wings unfurling with a powerful WHOOSH that sent gusts of wind tearing through the air. Dust and debris swirled around the battlefield, blinding some of the Horde and forcing them to shield their faces. With a sharp beat of its wings, the bird leaped into the air, its talons slicing through the ground where the front line had stood moments before. Ogres swung their weapons upward, trying to catch the beast mid-air, but the creature was too quick. It swooped low, its talons raking across the battlefield. SLASH! The sound of claws tearing through armor and shields filled the air as Orcs scrambled to evade the deadly strikes. One Ogre managed to block a talon with his massive hammer, but the force of the blow sent him staggering backward, his feet dragging deep grooves into the earth. Archers loosed volley after volley, their arrows whistling through the air. Most glanced off the creature''s metallic feathers with a sharp PING! A few found their mark, embedding themselves in the thinner membranes of its wings. Black ichor dripped from the wounds, hissing as it hit the ground. The bird shrieked in fury, the sound reverberating through the canyon. Its red eyes blazed like twin suns, filled with a rage that seemed to fuel its every movement. It lashed out with its wings, the sharp edges slicing through the air like blades. One wing struck a group of Orcs, sending them sprawling across the rocky terrain. Another wing caught an Ogre in the side, the impact so forceful that his armor dented inward with a resounding CRUNCH! Despite its ferocity, the Horde pressed on. "Don''t let it escape!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. He raised his blade high, his crimson eyes fixed on the creature''s weakened leg. "Target its leg! Bring it to the ground!" Ogres charged once more, their massive frames crashing against the bird''s side like battering rams. One swung a colossal axe at the creature''s injured leg. The blade bit deep into the joint with a sickening CHUNK! The bird screeched in agony, its talons scrabbling for purchase as it staggered. The Orcs seized the opportunity, swarming the beast''s underbelly. Spears and axes struck at the exposed flesh, tearing through the thinner layers of protection. Black ichor sprayed across the battlefield, the stench of it burning their nostrils. But the bird fought back with relentless fury. It lashed out with its talons, sweeping them across the ground in wide arcs. One Orc was caught mid-stride, his shield shattered with a CRACK! as he was thrown backward. Another Ogre swung his hammer, but the bird twisted, its massive beak snapping shut inches from his face with a bone-rattling SNAP! The beast flapped its wings violently, the gusts knocking several attackers off their feet. It tried to take flight again, its injured leg trembling under its weight. But the Horde was relentless. "Archers!" Volk barked. "Pin down its wings!" The archers adjusted their aim, targeting the joints of the creature''s wings. Arrows streaked through the air, their tips glinting like silver as they found their marks. The beast screamed as more arrows pierced its wings, pinning them to the rocky terrain. It thrashed wildly, the ground trembling beneath its massive frame. Volk pushed forward, his blade flashing as he struck at the creature''s leg. His strikes were precise, each one chipping away at the weakened joint. The beast roared in pain, its movements growing increasingly frantic. The Horde closed in, their attacks coordinated and unrelenting. The Ogres swung their weapons with devastating force, targeting the creature''s leg and underbelly. Orcs swarmed over the beast, their blades cutting deep into its flesh. The archers continued their assault, their arrows raining down like a storm. The bird fought with everything it had. Its talons tore through the ranks, its wings lashed out, and its cries shook the air. But its strength was waning. The injuries to its leg and wings left it vulnerable, and the relentless assault of the Horde was taking its toll. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the beast let out a guttural, haunting howl. HOOOOUUUUUUUUU! The sound echoed through the mountains, a mournful cry that sent a chill down the spines of even the most hardened warriors. Its massive frame trembled, its legs buckling as it collapsed onto the rocky ground. Volk lowered his blade, his chest heaving as he surveyed the scene. The beast lay before them, its once-majestic form battered and bloodied. The Horde stood victorious, their weapons slick with black ichor, their bodies battered but unbroken. For a moment, silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the labored breathing of the warriors and the faint, pained moans of the defeated bird. Then, Volk straightened, his crimson eyes gleaming with triumph. "The beast falls," he said, his voice low but firm. "Prepare yourselves. The real battle begins now." The Horde barely had time to savor their victory. The massive bird, broken and bloodied, lay still on the rocky terrain. Its labored breathing filled the air, mingling with the heavy panting of the warriors. Volk''s crimson eyes remained fixed on the beast, his instincts tingling with unease. Something wasn''t right. "Hold your positions!" Volk commanded, his voice cutting through the murmurs of triumph. The Horde hesitated but obeyed, their weapons still in hand. Then, it happened. The beast''s massive body twitched, a subtle movement at first¡ªa faint ripple across its battered feathers. But it quickly grew more pronounced. Its talons scraped against the ground, claws digging deep furrows into the rocky soil. The creature''s head lifted slowly, its glowing red eyes narrowing with renewed focus. Volk''s grip on his blade tightened. "Back! Fall back!" he roared, stepping in front of his Horde. Before anyone could react, the bird let out a low, guttural growl. Its wings, tattered and pinned by arrows, began to quiver. The beast hauled itself upright, its injured leg trembling under its weight. With a pained but determined screech, it began to drag itself toward a small cave carved into the side of the mountain. "What is it doing?" one of the Orcs muttered, his voice laced with unease. Volk''s eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze tracking the creature''s movements. "Stay alert!" he barked. "Do not lower your guard!" The Horde followed cautiously, their weapons raised as they watched the beast crawl toward the cave. Its massive frame cast an ominous shadow over the entrance, the jagged rocks framing it like the maw of some ancient beast. Volk''s instincts screamed at him to stop the bird, to finish it before it reached the cave. But something held him back¡ªa dark curiosity, a need to understand what was driving the creature. He motioned for the Horde to hold their position, advancing alone toward the edge of the cave''s entrance. The air inside the cave was thick, damp, and heavy with the stench of decay. Volk''s sharp eyes scanned the dim interior, his vision adjusting quickly to the shadows. What he saw sent a chill racing down his spine. Scattered across the cave floor were the remains of numerous creatures¡ªbones, scraps of flesh, and broken weapons. In the center of the carnage stood a small, humanoid figure, its green skin glistening with sweat and its wide, terrified eyes locked on the approaching bird. "A goblin," Volk muttered under his breath. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The goblin let out a panicked squeal, its tiny hands clutching a rusted dagger as it tried to back away. But the bird was relentless. It lunged forward with surprising speed, its massive beak snapping shut around the goblin''s frail body. CRUNCH! The sound of bones breaking echoed through the cave as the creature swallowed its prey whole. Outside, the Horde watched in horrified silence as the beast''s form began to change. The bird''s tattered feathers shimmered faintly, their metallic sheen growing brighter. Its injured leg straightened, the deep gashes along its joints knitting themselves together as if by magic. Black ichor seeped from its wounds, sizzling as it hit the ground and dissipating like steam. Volk''s eyes widened in shock. "It''s¡­ regenerating." The bird let out another ear-splitting cry, this one sharper and louder than before. KREEEEEEEEE! The sound reverberated through the mountains, shaking loose stones from the cliffs and causing the ground to tremble beneath the Horde''s feet. The beast''s eyes glowed brighter, burning with a fiery intensity that sent shivers down Volk''s spine. Its wings spread wide, no longer tattered but fully restored, their edges gleaming like polished steel. The bird threw its head back and let out a guttural howl, a sound filled with both pain and rage, and yet beneath it lay something else¡ªpower. Volk''s grip on his blade tightened. His voice, calm but laced with urgency, carried over the rising tension. "Prepare yourselves. This isn''t over." Chapter 310 - 310: Second Round The air grew heavy as the monstrous bird stretched its rejuvenated wings. It towered above the Horde, its already colossal form now even larger. Its metallic feathers gleamed with an eerie brilliance, and the sheer size of its shadow seemed to engulf the warriors entirely. The ground trembled under its shifting weight as it stepped forward, its talons digging deep into the earth. Volk tightened his grip on his blade, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scanned the creature. This wasn''t the same beast they had nearly defeated. It was larger, faster, and emanated a palpable aura of malice. "Stay together!" Volk bellowed, his voice carrying over the sound of the creature''s wings beating once more. "We face it again! Form ranks!" The Horde moved swiftly, their fear suppressed by discipline honed in countless battles. Ogres hefted their massive weapons, standing at the forefront as the first line of defense. Orcs tightened their grip on spears and axes, their eyes flickering between the beast and their leader. The archers notched arrows, their fingers trembling slightly as they pulled the strings taut. Then, without warning, the bird lunged forward. THUD! CRASH! Its massive talons slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave rippling through the battlefield. The Horde staggered but held their ground. "Attack!" Volk roared, charging forward with a burst of speed. His blade gleamed in the dim light as he led the assault, slicing through the air toward the creature''s exposed leg. The Ogres surged behind him, their war cries echoing like thunder. BOOM! CLANG! Massive hammers and axes crashed against the bird''s legs and wings. The metallic clang of their weapons striking the beast''s armor-like feathers echoed across the canyon. But this time, the bird retaliated with ferocity. Its wings swept outward, creating gusts of wind so strong they sent Orcs flying backward. WHOOSH! THUMP! Bodies hit the ground hard, some skidding across the dirt as they scrambled to regain their footing. An Ogre swung his hammer in a wide arc, aiming for the bird''s knee. The weapon connected with a deafening CRACK! But the beast barely flinched. Instead, it reared back and lashed out with its talons. SQUELCH! One talon tore through the Ogre''s shoulder, sending blood spraying into the air. The massive warrior staggered, his hammer slipping from his grasp as he fell to one knee. The archers loosed another volley of arrows, their projectiles whistling through the air. THWIP! THWIP! The arrows struck the bird''s wings, but most bounced off harmlessly. Only a few embedded themselves in the thinner, membranous sections of its wings, drawing black ichor that hissed as it hit the ground. Volk darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a sweeping talon. His eyes darted over the beast''s form, searching for the weaknesses he''d identified before. But its movements were faster now, its strikes more precise. The weak points they had exploited earlier were harder to reach, buried under layers of glowing, regenerated flesh. "Regroup!" Volk shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. "Ogres, focus on its legs! Archers, aim for the joints in its wings! Orcs, keep it distracted!" The Horde adjusted their tactics, moving with renewed coordination. Ogres swung their massive weapons with brutal force, their strikes aimed at the bird''s legs. Orcs swarmed around the creature, their movements quick and agile as they slashed at its sides and underbelly. But the bird was relentless. KREEEEEEEEE! It let out a piercing cry, its sound vibrating through the air and into their very bones. The warriors faltered, some dropping their weapons to clutch their ears. The bird took advantage of their momentary weakness, its massive beak snapping down toward a group of Orcs. SNAP! The ground shook as the bird''s beak slammed into the dirt, narrowly missing its targets. Volk seized the opening, darting forward with his blade. His sword flashed as he aimed for the bird''s knee joint, driving the weapon deep into the exposed flesh. SLASH! Black ichor sprayed from the wound, splattering across Volk''s armor and face. The bird screeched in pain, its injured leg buckling slightly. But instead of collapsing, it reared back and spread its wings wide. With a powerful WHOOSH!, it beat its wings, creating a windstorm that sent warriors flying in all directions. Volk was thrown off his feet, landing hard on his back. THUD! The impact rattled his bones, but he rolled quickly to his feet, his blade still in hand. He scanned the battlefield, his mind racing. The Horde was struggling. The Ogres were being pushed back, their massive frames no match for the bird''s newfound strength. Orcs were scattered, their attacks unable to penetrate the beast''s reinforced defenses. The archers were running out of arrows, their quivers nearly empty. Volk''s jaw tightened. He had fought countless battles, faced enemies far stronger than this beast. But something about this fight felt¡­ different. The bird''s regeneration, its increased size and speed¡ªit defied logic. "Leader!" one of the Ogres shouted, his voice desperate. "We can''t hold it much longer!" Volk''s eyes narrowed. He gripped his blade tighter, his mind working furiously to find a solution. But no matter how he analyzed the situation, one question lingered in his mind. Why was the bird growing stronger? The creature let out another deafening cry, its body glowing faintly as it lashed out with renewed vigor. The Horde fought valiantly, their attacks relentless, but they were being overwhelmed. Volk''s crimson eyes locked onto the beast''s form, scanning it for any signs of weakness. Then, something caught his attention¡ªa faint glow emanating from the bird''s chest, pulsing in time with its movements. His eyes widened. Could that be its core? Before he could act, the bird let out a guttural howl, louder and more powerful than before. KRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! The sound reverberated through the canyon, shaking loose stones from the cliffs and causing the ground to tremble. Volk stumbled, his vision swimming as the sound rattled his mind. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. But as he steadied himself, a new thought crept into his mind¡ªone that filled him with unease. Why did it feel like the bird was fighting with purpose? Why did it feel¡­ like it was toying with them? The bird''s glowing eyes locked onto Volk, and for a brief moment, it felt as though the creature was looking directly into his soul. Volk''s eyes snapped to the hulking forms of the Ogres amidst the chaos. Their immense strength, which had been barely holding the bird at bay, was now the key to turning the tide. His mind worked rapidly, formulating a strategy that could exploit their brute power. "Ogres!" Volk''s voice boomed across the battlefield, cutting through the screeches of the beast and the clamor of battle. His commanding tone was sharp, urgent, brooking no argument. "Use the stones! Anything large enough to crush its wings¡ªthrow them! NOW!" The Ogres exchanged quick glances, their eyes narrowing with understanding. One of them, a massive brute named Goruk, let out a guttural growl. "We hear you, Leader!" he rumbled. His massive hands reached for a jagged boulder nearby, hefting it as if it weighed nothing. The other Ogres followed suit, their massive frames lumbering toward the scattered debris of the battlefield. Some grabbed loose boulders, while others tore chunks of stone straight from the mountainside, their raw strength sending fissures spidering across the rocky surface. "Keep it distracted!" Volk barked at the Orcs and archers. "Don''t let it focus on them!" The Horde sprang into action, their weapons striking the bird''s legs, wings, and underbelly in a relentless assault. CLANG! CLASH! Axes and swords rang against the metallic sheen of its feathers, keeping the beast''s attention divided. The first boulder flew through the air with a thunderous WHOOSH! Goruk''s mighty throw sent it hurtling toward the bird''s torso. CRASH! The rock collided with the beast''s chest, eliciting a pained screech. The bird recoiled, flapping its wings violently in an attempt to steady itself. But the Ogres were relentless. Another boulder followed, this one aimed at the bird''s right wing. THUD! The impact sent feathers flying, and the beast staggered. It screeched in defiance, its glowing eyes narrowing as it spread its wings wide. Volk''s sharp gaze tracked its every movement. The beast''s resistance was fierce, but he could see the subtle shifts in its posture¡ªthe way its once-fluid movements were growing sluggish, the faint tremble in its legs as it struggled to maintain balance. "Again!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the cacophony. "Don''t stop until it falls!" The Ogres redoubled their efforts. WHAM! CRASH! Boulder after boulder rained down on the giant bird, each one striking with bone-shaking force. The ground beneath their feet trembled with every impact, cracks splintering across the rocky terrain. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. At first, the bird seemed unyielding. Its screeches grew louder, more defiant, as it lashed out with its talons and wings. One massive claw swiped at an Ogre, narrowly missing as the brute ducked and rolled to the side. WHOOSH! The sheer force of the strike sent a gust of wind rippling across the battlefield. But the relentless assault began to take its toll. The bird''s movements grew jerky, its once-mighty wings faltering as the weight of the attacks bore down on it. THUD! Another boulder struck its left leg, causing the creature to buckle slightly. Black ichor seeped from multiple wounds, hissing and steaming as it hit the ground. "Leader, it''s weakening!" Goruk shouted, his voice booming with grim determination. Volk''s eyes remained locked on the beast. "Keep pushing!" he ordered, his tone sharp. "Break its spirit! Show it no mercy!" The Ogres roared in unison, their voices echoing through the canyon as they continued their assault. The bird''s cries of defiance began to shift, the sharp notes of anger giving way to something else¡ªpain. CRASH! A particularly large boulder struck the bird''s back, forcing it to the ground. Its massive frame heaved with labored breaths, its wings trembling as it struggled to rise. But the Ogres didn''t relent. They pressed their advantage, their massive hands hurling stone after stone at the wounded beast. The bird let out a final, heart-wrenching cry, its voice filled with anguish as its body collapsed under the relentless barrage. KREEEEEEEEH! The sound echoed through the canyon, fading into a haunting silence as the beast''s head hit the ground with a resounding THUD. For a moment, the battlefield was still. The Horde stood frozen, their weapons lowered as they watched the massive creature''s body lie motionless before them. Its glowing eyes dimmed, the fiery light extinguished as its chest rose and fell with slow, shallow breaths. Volk remained rooted in place, his crimson eyes locked on the fallen beast. His hand gripped his sword tightly, his knuckles white with tension. Despite its apparent defeat, he didn''t move closer. Finally, the massive bird let out a faint, pitiful groan before falling completely still. The tension in Volk''s shoulders eased slightly, though his sharp gaze remained wary. "Hold," he commanded, his voice steady but low. "Stay alert. This thing has surprised us before." The Horde remained on edge, their breaths heavy as they waited for any sign of movement. But the bird lay still, its once-mighty form reduced to a battered, lifeless heap. Volk stepped forward slowly, his blade gleaming in the dim light. His eyes narrowed as he approached the beast, his sharp instincts scanning for any sign of life. He paused a few feet away, his expression unreadable as he studied its massive frame. And then, without warning, he looked up, his mind racing with a question he couldn''t yet answer. Why had this creature fought so fiercely? What had driven it to such lengths, even in the face of overwhelming odds? But for now, the battle was over. And the Horde''s leader, ever watchful, remained ready for whatever came next. Chapter 311 - 311: Reward: Goblins As the colossal bird''s lifeless body lay sprawled across the battlefield, the heavy silence that followed its defeat was broken by a soft ding. Volk''s crimson eyes flicked upward as a translucent screen materialized before him, its glowing letters floating mid-air. Congratulations! You have defeated the Titan Harpy Guardian! The words felt almost mocking, their sterile cheer contrasting sharply with the brutal battle that had just unfolded. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he scanned the rest of the notification. Rewards unlocked: - Aerial Assault Goblins (50 units) A muscle in his jaw twitched. Goblins? he thought. The horde had endured a harrowing fight, losing blood and sweat against a towering beast, and this was their reward? He quelled the surge of irritation that rose in his chest. For now, he needed to focus. The notification vanished as Volk turned back to his horde. The Ogres and Orcs were spread out across the battlefield, panting heavily, their weapons slick with the bird''s strange, black ichor. Despite their exhaustion, they stood tall, waiting for their leader''s next command. "What now, Leader?" an Orc called out, his voice hoarse but steady. His question rippled through the group, their gazes locking onto Volk with anticipation. Volk sheathed his blade in one smooth motion, his eyes scanning the rocky terrain. "There are goblins in this area," he said, his voice firm, brooking no doubt. "They are part of our reward for slaying this beast. We will find them." "But where are they?" another Orc grumbled, glancing nervously at the bird''s carcass. "We''ve seen no sign of them." "Search the area," Volk ordered sharply. His voice cut through the murmurs of uncertainty. "Goblins are resourceful creatures. They may be hiding. Spread out and look. And remember¡ªdo not harm them. They are ours now. Bring any you find back to me." The horde grunted their acknowledgment, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten as they moved into action. Ogres lumbered toward the jagged cliffs, their heavy steps leaving deep impressions in the dirt. Orcs fanned out across the battlefield, their keen eyes scanning the rocky crevices and shadowy alcoves. Volk remained where he was, his gaze following his warriors as they dispersed. His sharp mind churned with possibilities. Where would goblins hide in a place like this? --- The search began in earnest. An Ogre named Goruk led his group to the edge of a narrow ravine. The steep drop was lined with jagged rocks, and the faint sound of trickling water echoed from below. "Check the crevices," Goruk rumbled, gesturing to the narrow ledges along the ravine''s walls. The Orcs in his group obeyed without question, leaning precariously over the edge to peer into the shadows. One of them, a wiry female named Kraa, squinted at a dark recess just below the lip of the ravine. "There''s something here," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the wind. She reached down cautiously, her fingers brushing against the rough stone. But as her hand probed deeper, she found nothing but empty air. With a frustrated growl, she pulled back and shook her head. "False lead," she spat. Goruk grunted in acknowledgment, his heavy brow furrowing. "Keep looking," he said, his tone grim. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. --- Elsewhere, a group of Orcs combed through the rocky outcroppings near the battlefield. Their sharp eyes scanned every shadow, their hands prying apart loose rocks and shifting piles of debris. "Anything?" one of them asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "Nothing," another replied, shaking his head. He kicked a small rock aside, his frustration evident in the sharpness of his movements. "Goblins don''t just vanish," the first Orc muttered, his eyes narrowing as he looked around. "They must be here somewhere." --- The hours dragged on, and the sun began to dip lower in the sky. The Horde regrouped near Volk, their expressions a mixture of frustration and fatigue. "Leader," Goruk rumbled, his deep voice filled with resignation. "We''ve searched everywhere. There''s no sign of goblins." The Orcs echoed his sentiment, their voices a cacophony of frustration. Volk''s crimson eyes burned as he looked out over the battlefield. His warriors'' reports were consistent¡ªdespite their exhaustive search, they had found nothing. But Volk refused to believe it. The notification had been clear. The goblins were here. "There should be goblins here," he said, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the crowd''s murmurs. "Keep searching!" His words carried an edge of finality, and though the Horde hesitated, they obeyed. With grunts of acknowledgment, they fanned out once more, their movements slower now, weighed down by fatigue. Volk remained where he was, his gaze fixed on the ground. His mind churned with frustration and doubt. Could the system be wrong? No. It never is. Just as the weight of uncertainty threatened to settle over him, a faint sound reached his ears. Sniffle¡­ hic¡­ sniffle. Volk''s sharp hearing caught the weak, pitiful cries. He froze, his crimson eyes narrowing as he focused on the sound. It was faint, almost imperceptible amidst the rustling wind and distant echoes of the horde''s search. But it was there. He turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto the direction of the sound. It was coming from near the rocky crevice where the giant bird had emerged earlier. Without a word, Volk moved. His steps were silent but purposeful as he approached the area, his heart pounding in his chest. The faint cries grew louder as he drew closer, each sniffle and whimper pulling him forward like a thread. He stopped just short of the crevice, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the shadows. The cries were coming from within. Volk''s jaw tightened. He gripped the hilt of his sword, his sharp instincts telling him to remain cautious. And yet, something about the sound¡ªso weak, so helpless¡ªmade him hesitate. He stepped closer, his crimson eyes scanning the darkness. The faint cries continued, growing softer now, as if whatever was making them had sensed his presence. Volk took a deep breath, steeling himself. And then, without hesitation, he stepped into the crevice, the shadows swallowing him whole. He descended further into the narrow crevice, his heavy boots crunching against the loose gravel underfoot. The weak cries guided him like a haunting melody, growing louder yet still faint, echoing off the cold, damp stone walls. The air grew cooler as he moved deeper, the faint smell of earth and decay wafting into his nostrils. His crimson eyes, sharp and piercing in battle, were of little use here in the overwhelming darkness. Shadows crowded in on all sides, the faint light from above barely penetrating this forgotten place. The cries continued, fragile and pitiful, tugging at something deep within him. Volk stopped in his tracks, his hand brushing against the rough stone wall for balance. He strained his ears to pinpoint the sound, but the echo distorted its location. His sharp mind raced. What''s down here? Could it really be goblins? Or something worse? Volk straightened, his imposing frame taking up much of the confined space. With a low growl of frustration, he called out, his voice deep and commanding, reverberating through the narrow cavern. "Horde! Bring me torches!" His voice traveled up the crevice, reaching the horde above. After a moment of muffled voices and hurried footsteps, a few Orcs appeared at the edge of the opening, peering down into the darkness. "Leader?" one of them called. "Are you alright?" "I said torches," Volk barked, his tone brooking no delay. "I need light down here. Now!" The Orcs exchanged a quick glance, then rushed off to gather what he''d demanded. Moments later, one of them reappeared, carefully lowering a lit torch into the crevice using a makeshift rope of leather straps. The flickering flame illuminated the narrow walls, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to shift and writhe like phantoms. Volk grabbed the torch and held it high, the warmth and light pushing back the oppressive darkness. The faint cries came again, this time clearer, leading him further into the depths. He stepped cautiously, his movements deliberate as he scanned the dimly lit space. The light from the torch revealed jagged rocks and patches of dried moss clinging to the damp walls. The floor was uneven, scattered with small bones and scraps of unidentifiable refuse. And then, he saw them. Huddled in the far corner of a shallow alcove were goblins. Their small, wiry forms were curled in on themselves, pressed tightly together as though trying to disappear into the stone. Their skin, a sickly green, was marred with cuts and bruises, and their bony limbs trembled visibly even in the low light. They looked emaciated, their ribs stark against their thin frames. Volk''s crimson eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. There were five of them, no more than scraps of life, their wide, glowing eyes staring back at him with a mixture of fear and desperation. One of them¡ªa youngling, by the looks of it¡ªlet out another weak cry, its voice cracking. The sound was pitiful, almost unbearable. The goblins recoiled as Volk stepped closer, their small hands covering their faces or clutching at each other. They pressed themselves further into the corner, as if trying to meld with the cold stone to escape his towering presence. Volk stopped a few feet away, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow over the trembling group. He crouched slightly, lowering the torch so its light bathed the goblins more clearly. They flinched, their fear palpable in the tense air. For a long moment, he said nothing, his sharp gaze assessing them. So this is what''s left of the so-called reward, he thought bitterly. Their pitiful state stirred a mixture of emotions within him¡ªdisgust, pity, and a simmering anger. It wasn''t directed at them, but at the creature that had done this to them. The realization came to him like a thunderclap. The bird. His crimson eyes darkened as the pieces fell into place. These goblins had been prey. The giant bird hadn''t just been a guardian¡ªit had been a predator, using this dark, forgotten space as its larder. These goblins had been nothing more than food, waiting to be consumed. "By the gods¡­" he muttered under his breath. The torchlight flickered as his grip tightened on its handle. One of the goblins whimpered, drawing his attention back to them. Their fear was like a physical weight pressing against him, their trembling forms so fragile they seemed on the verge of breaking. Volk took a deep breath, steadying himself. He couldn''t let his anger show¡ªnot now. He straightened, towering over the goblins but keeping his movements slow and deliberate. His deep voice, usually commanding and sharp, softened slightly as he addressed them. "You don''t have to be afraid," he said, his tone steady but not unkind. The goblins didn''t respond, their wide eyes darting between him and the torch. Volk knelt, setting the torch on the ground beside him so its light was less harsh. He rested his forearm on his knee, lowering himself to their level without coming too close. "The bird is dead," he said firmly. "It can''t hurt you anymore." The goblins exchanged wary glances, their movements hesitant and small. One of them¡ªa slightly larger one that seemed to act as their leader¡ªlifted its head just enough to peer at him. Its glowing yellow eyes were filled with suspicion and a flicker of hope. "I killed it," Volk continued, his voice resolute. "It won''t hurt you again. None of them will." The larger goblin blinked, its trembling slowing slightly as it processed his words. The others remained huddled, their fear deeply ingrained. Volk shifted slightly, ensuring he wasn''t blocking their only escape route. "You''ve been through enough," he said, his voice low and even. "But you''re safe now. You have my word." The larger goblin hesitated, then took a tentative step forward. Its movements were slow, cautious, as though expecting Volk to lash out. But Volk remained still, his sharp gaze unwavering but not hostile. "I don''t want to hurt you," he said simply. "I want to help you." The larger goblin stopped a few paces away, its bony hands clutching at its sides. Its glowing eyes searched Volk''s face for any sign of deceit. Volk held its gaze, his expression steady and serious. Slowly, the goblin nodded, a tiny, tentative gesture that seemed to signal its acceptance. The others began to stir, their wide eyes flickering with something other than fear. One by one, they moved closer, their small forms huddling together as they cautiously approached him. Volk didn''t move, allowing them to come to him at their own pace. The torchlight danced across their battered faces, highlighting their gaunt features and the scars that marked their skin. They were pitiful to look at, their suffering etched into every line of their bodies. When they finally reached him, the larger goblin spoke, its voice weak and raspy. "You¡­ you killed the bird?" Volk nodded once, his expression firm. "Yes." The goblin swallowed hard, its thin frame shaking as it whispered, "Thank you." Volk didn''t reply immediately. Instead, he reached out slowly, his massive hand open and unthreatening. The larger goblin hesitated, then placed its tiny, trembling hand in his. "You''re with me now," Volk said, his voice carrying a weight of finality. "No one will hurt you again." The goblins nodded, their movements small but filled with a fragile hope. For the first time, Volk saw a glimmer of trust in their eyes. As the flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the walls, Volk stood, his towering frame a shield against the darkness. His crimson eyes flicked toward the spot where the bird had emerged earlier, a grim determination settling over his features. "Stay close," he said, his voice steady. And with that, he turned, leading the way back toward the small cave where the giant bird''s reign had begun. Chapter 312 - 312: Interview Volk crouched low, his imposing frame balanced delicately to avoid intimidating the small creatures. The goblins¡ªif they could even be called that in their current state¡ªremained huddled together, their wiry forms still trembling. Their wide, glowing eyes flicked to him nervously as he knelt before them, his crimson gaze sharp yet unusually patient. He rested his forearm casually on one knee, his other hand holding the torch aloft to keep the faint, flickering light steady. The shadows danced across the jagged walls of the small cave, giving the scene an eerie but oddly intimate atmosphere. "You," Volk said, his deep voice cutting through the tense silence. He pointed to the larger goblin, the one who had shown the most courage by stepping forward earlier. "Tell me. How did you survive down here?" The goblin flinched at first, shrinking back slightly before steeling itself. It glanced nervously at its companions, then hesitated, its bony hands fidgeting in front of its thin chest. Volk tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening just enough to encourage the creature to speak. "I¡­ We¡­ lived here," the goblin stammered, its voice barely more than a whisper. "Deep under¡­ away from the light." Volk narrowed his eyes. "Away from the light? Why?" The goblin hesitated again, its yellow eyes darting toward the others as though seeking their approval. When none of them moved to stop it, the creature continued, its voice quivering but growing steadier as it spoke. "It¡­ it hurts," the goblin admitted, its words slow and deliberate. "The bright¡­ burns our skin. We can''t stay in it. Too much¡­ and we¡ª" Another goblin, a smaller one with wide, fearful eyes, whimpered softly and buried its face in its thin arms. The larger goblin paused, its expression grim. "We get weak," it finished, glancing back at Volk. "The dark is¡­ safe." Volk listened intently, his sharp mind absorbing every word. He nodded slightly, urging the goblin to continue. "We hide," the larger goblin said, its trembling hands gesturing vaguely toward the cavern walls. "In holes, under stones. Always close to food." "Food?" Volk repeated, his voice calm but probing. "What food?" The goblin hesitated again, its thin frame shaking slightly under the weight of his gaze. After a moment, it pointed toward the scattered refuse on the cave floor¡ªbones, scraps of unidentifiable material, and what looked like remnants of small animals. "Rats," it said quietly. "Bugs. Sometimes¡­ mushrooms. When we''re lucky." One of the smaller goblins whimpered again, and Volk''s gaze shifted toward it. The creature shrank back under his scrutiny, clutching its bony knees to its chest. "Keep going," Volk said, returning his attention to the larger goblin. His tone was steady, patient but insistent. "How did you find enough? For all of you?" The larger goblin''s gaze dropped to the ground. "We take turns," it murmured. "One¡­ two go out. Look for food. Bring back what we find. If it''s not enough¡­ we share." "And if it''s still not enough?" Volk pressed, his voice low. The goblin flinched at the question, its trembling increasing. "Then we wait," it whispered, its words almost inaudible. "We wait for the strong to eat¡­ so the rest can stay hidden." Volk''s crimson eyes darkened at the admission. The survival of the fittest, even among their own kind. It was brutal, but not surprising. "What about water?" he asked, his tone softening slightly. The goblin pointed toward the far end of the cave, where a faint glimmer of moisture caught the torchlight. "There," it said. "A crack¡­ in the stone. Water drips down. Enough for us." Volk nodded slowly, his mind piecing together the grim reality of their existence. But there was more he needed to know. "Why here?" he asked, his voice steady but firm. "Why this place?" The goblin glanced toward the others again, its gaze lingering on the smallest one before it spoke. "The bird," it said, its voice trembling anew. "It found us. Took us. Brought us here." Volk''s jaw tightened. "Why?" The goblin hesitated, its trembling hands clutching at the tattered remnants of its clothing. "To eat," it said finally, its voice breaking. "It took us¡­ one by one. When it was hungry." The smaller goblins whimpered, their thin bodies curling in on themselves as if to hide from the memory. Volk''s grip on the torch tightened, the flame flickering as his knuckles whitened. "How long?" he asked, his voice low and cold. The goblin shook its head, its yellow eyes glistening. "We¡­ don''t know," it said, its voice barely audible. "Time is¡­ dark. Always dark. No end." Volk exhaled slowly, his crimson eyes narrowing as he processed their words. Their lives had been nothing but fear and darkness, a constant struggle for survival under the shadow of a predator. "And before the bird?" he asked, his tone softening. The goblin blinked, surprised by the question. "Before¡­" it began, then trailed off, its gaze growing distant. "We were¡­ outside," it said after a long pause. "In the forest. The trees¡­ were big. Tall. We hid under them. Found food in the dirt. Dug holes to sleep." Its voice grew quieter, tinged with a strange mixture of nostalgia and sorrow. "The forest was¡­ better. Safer. Until¡­" "Until what?" Volk prompted. The goblin''s gaze hardened, its trembling slowing as a flicker of anger replaced its fear. "Flying ones," it said, its voice low but firm. "They came. Took us. Like the bird. But¡­ worse." "Worse how?" Volk asked, leaning closer. "They hurt us," the goblin said, its words sharp and bitter. "Tied us. Beat us. Made us walk¡­ far. To the bird. They gave us to it." The smaller goblins whimpered again, their frail forms trembling as the memories resurfaced. Volk''s expression darkened, a cold fury simmering beneath his calm exterior. "The flying ones¡­" he murmured, his mind racing. The harpy people. They weren''t just threats¡ªthey were slavers, preying on the weak and offering them as sacrifices. He exhaled slowly, his gaze returning to the goblins. "You don''t have to fear them anymore," he said firmly. "They won''t hurt you again." The goblins didn''t respond immediately, their glowing eyes filled with a fragile hope that bordered on disbelief. But Volk''s tone left no room for doubt. For the first time, the largest goblin straightened slightly, its trembling subsiding as it met Volk''s gaze. "Thank you," it said quietly, its voice steady despite the tears that glistened in its eyes. Volk stood in the dim cave, the weak light of the torch in his hand flickering against the uneven stone walls. His mind churned as he gazed at the trembling goblins before him. Were these creatures truly victims of the "flying people"? Could their memories of the attackers be trusted? He squatted again, lowering himself to their level, his crimson eyes narrowing in thought. "Flying people," he muttered under his breath. The term gnawed at him, scratching the back of his mind like a half-remembered nightmare. He exhaled deeply, his breath escaping in a visible puff of mist in the damp cave air. Finally, he broke the silence. "Tell me more," Volk said, his voice calm but probing. "These flying ones. What did they look like?" The goblins exchanged nervous glances, their yellowish eyes flickering with uncertainty. Finally, the largest among them spoke, its voice hesitant but steady. "They¡­ have wings," it said, gesturing weakly with its bony arms. "Big. Feathers." "Wings and feathers," Volk repeated, his tone neutral. "What else? What about their faces?" The goblin hesitated, its gaze darting away. "They¡­ like us, but not like us," it murmured. "Hard faces. Sharp eyes." Volk frowned, his brow furrowing. "Not like you? What do you mean? Were they larger? Smaller? Did they wear armor?" The goblin shook its head, its thin frame trembling slightly. "Not larger. Same size. But¡­ strong. They had¡­ claws." "Claws," Volk echoed, his voice thoughtful. He leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting to the cave''s ceiling. "And their voices? What did they sound like?" The goblin''s expression darkened. "High," it said. "Shrill. Like¡­ screaming. Always screaming." A smaller goblin whimpered, covering its ears as if the memory of the sound was too much to bear. Volk tilted his head, his sharp eyes narrowing further. "What did they scream?" he pressed. "Words? Or just sounds?" The goblin hesitated, then shrugged weakly. "Words," it said, though its tone was uncertain. "But¡­ strange. Not ours. Couldn''t understand." Volk leaned forward again, his crimson eyes narrowing as he considered the information. So the flying ones were humanoid but winged, spoke in an unfamiliar tongue, and were predatory enough to enslave and offer goblins as sacrifices. But their motives still eluded him. "What did they want from you?" Volk asked, his voice low and measured. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The goblin hesitated, its hands wringing nervously. "We¡­ don''t know," it admitted. "They took us. Gave us¡­ to the bird. Didn''t speak to us. Only screamed." Volk exhaled sharply, his frustration mounting. There was something missing¡ªsome critical piece of the puzzle he couldn''t yet see. "How many of them?" he asked, his tone sharpening. "Were there dozens? Hundreds? Did they come in waves or all at once?" The goblin flinched at the sudden intensity of his voice. "Not many," it said quickly. "Ten? Maybe more. But strong. We couldn''t fight." Volk''s gaze darkened. Ten or so flying warriors had been enough to overwhelm and capture an entire group of goblins. His horde had struggled against a single giant bird. What chance would they have against an organized force of aerial combatants? He sighed deeply, rubbing his temple with one hand. The problem gnawed at him like an itch he couldn''t scratch. His horde was powerful, yes, but they were grounded¡ªbound to the earth by their size and weight. They had no way to deal with threats that could attack from above. "If only¡­" Volk muttered, his voice trailing off. The goblins glanced at each other nervously, their expressions a mix of fear and curiosity. One of the smaller ones finally spoke, its voice trembling but audible. "Our fathers¡­" it began hesitantly, its gaze fixed on the floor. Volk''s head snapped toward the goblin, his crimson eyes narrowing. "Your fathers?" he repeated. "What about them?" The goblin hesitated, its thin fingers fidgeting nervously. "They¡­ used to build things," it said finally, its voice barely above a whisper. "Build things?" Volk echoed, his tone sharp with interest. "What things?" The goblin shrugged, its expression uncertain. "Don''t know," it admitted. "They¡­ made wood into shapes. Put it together. Big shapes." "Big shapes," Volk repeated, his voice thoughtful. He leaned back slightly, his sharp mind racing. "What for? Did they use these¡­ shapes?" The goblin shook its head. "Don''t know," it said again. "We were¡­ too small. But they worked all the time. Hammering. Cutting." Volk''s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of realization sparking in his mind. He straightened, his grip on the torch tightening as he processed the goblin''s words. If their fathers had been builders, skilled enough to create large structures or tools, then perhaps¡­ The goblin tilted its head, its yellowish eyes narrowing in confusion. "Why?" it asked hesitantly. "What do you need?" Volk didn''t answer immediately, his mind too preoccupied with the possibilities. Finally, a slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "There''s potential here," he murmured to himself, his voice low but tinged with excitement. The goblins flinched slightly at the sudden change in his demeanor, their nervous gazes darting to each other. Volk turned back to them, his crimson eyes gleaming with newfound determination. "Your fathers may have been builders," he said, his voice steady and confident. "But now, you will be the ones to rise." Chapter 313 - 313: Recalling the past The little goblin hesitated, its gaunt fingers fidgeting with the loose threads of its ragged tunic. Its yellow eyes, wide with fear and uncertainty, glimmered faintly in the torchlight as Volk loomed above. The other goblins shrank back against the rocky walls, their expressions wary, but the little one seemed to draw strength from Volk''s intense gaze. Slowly, it began to speak. "My father¡­ he was strong," the goblin said, its voice trembling but growing steadier as it continued. "Not strong like your ogres or orcs, but¡­ clever. Always working, always building. He made things with his hands, strange things that glowed in the dark or sang when the wind touched them. The birdmen¡­ they didn''t like that." Volk tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing with interest. He leaned closer, his towering figure casting an even darker shadow over the diminutive creature. "What things?" he asked, his voice low but commanding. "What did your father build that angered them?" The goblin swallowed hard, its bony chest rising and falling rapidly as it tried to muster the courage to continue. "He made weapons," it said finally. "Not like yours. Not swords or axes. He called them¡­ tools. But they hurt the birdmen. My father said they were for protection, to keep us safe. But the birdmen came. They¡­ they said we were dangerous." Volk''s brow furrowed, his sharp mind racing to piece together the fragments of the story. He crouched down, bringing himself closer to the goblin''s level, his voice softening slightly. "Go on," he urged. "What did they do when they came?" The goblin''s face twisted in anguish, its memories clearly painful. It looked away, its voice faltering as it continued. "They came from the sky, screeching like demons. Their wings blotted out the sun. They tore through the village, breaking everything. They said¡­ they said we didn''t deserve to live. That we were¡­ abominations." It paused, its small hands clenching into fists. "My father tried to fight them. He used one of his tools¡ªit shot fire, bright and hot, and it burned one of the birdmen''s wings. But there were too many. They broke his arms, ripped his tools apart. My mother¡­ she tried to hide me, but they found us. They¡­ they took me." Volk''s jaw tightened, a surge of anger flaring in his chest. "They took you to feed their beast," he said, his tone icy. "And the rest of your people?" The goblin''s voice broke as it spoke, tears streaming down its gaunt cheeks. "They killed them. All of them. My friends, my brothers, my mother and father. They said¡­ they said it was punishment for defying them. And the children¡­ they kept us alive, but only to feed the bird." The cave fell silent, the weight of the goblin''s story pressing heavily on everyone present. Even the other goblins, who had remained silent until now, bowed their heads in grief and fear. Volk stood slowly, his crimson eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and determination. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "And your father," Volk said after a long pause. "These tools he made¡­ did you see how he built them? Do you remember anything about them?" The little goblin hesitated, its tear-streaked face twisting in concentration. "I¡­ I don''t know," it said finally. "I was small. But I remember¡­ shapes. Pieces of metal, wood. They fit together. He would carve runes into them, whisper words I didn''t understand. And¡­ there was light. A glowing crystal, blue and bright. He called it the heart." "The heart," Volk repeated, his mind latching onto the detail. He crouched again, his intense gaze boring into the goblin. "Where did he get it? This crystal?" The goblin shook its head, its expression apologetic. "I don''t know," it said. "But he always said¡­ the heart is the key. Without it, the tools are just¡­ broken things." Volk''s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. A crystal that could power magical tools¡ªif he could find something similar, perhaps he could arm his horde against the birdmen. The thought filled him with a flicker of hope, though it was tempered by the realization that such a discovery would not come easily. "Your father," Volk said after a moment. "Did he teach anyone else to build these tools? Are there others who know how to make them?" The goblin''s face fell, and it shook its head. "No," it said softly. "My father was the only one. He tried to teach, but¡­ the others were afraid. They said his tools would bring danger, and they were right. When the birdmen came, they blamed him. They said it was his fault." Volk exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but there were still so many questions, so many unknowns. He leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking to the other goblins. "And you?" he asked, addressing the group. "Do any of you remember anything about these tools? Anything your parents might have said or done?" The goblins exchanged nervous glances, their expressions uncertain. Finally, one of them stepped forward hesitantly, its voice barely above a whisper. "I remember my mother¡­ she said the tools were powerful, but dangerous. She said they could hurt the birdmen, but they could hurt us too if we weren''t careful. That''s why no one wanted to use them." Volk nodded slowly, his mind racing. The tools were powerful enough to pose a threat to the birdmen, but they required skill and knowledge to wield safely. Without someone to guide them, they could be as much a liability as an asset. Still, the potential was undeniable. If he could find a way to recreate these tools¡ªor better yet, improve upon them¡ªhis horde might stand a chance against the aerial menace. He turned back to the little goblin, his expression softening slightly. "You''ve been through much," he said, his voice quieter now. "But your father''s work¡­ it might be the key to your freedom. To all our freedom. If you can remember anything else, anything at all, it could make a difference." The little goblin hesitated, its expression conflicted. Finally, it looked up at Volk, its yellow eyes filled with a mixture of fear and hope. "I''ll try," it said softly. "For my father. For my people." Volk nodded, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Good," he said. "Then we have a starting point." He straightened, his gaze sweeping over the group of goblins. "You''ve survived despite everything," he said, his voice firm and commanding. "You are stronger than you know. And together, we will make those who hurt you pay." The goblins stared at him, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. Slowly, one by one, they nodded, their fear giving way to a flicker of determination. Volk turned back to the little goblin, his crimson eyes gleaming with newfound purpose. "Tell me everything you can remember," he said. "Every detail, no matter how small. And together, we will turn that knowledge into power." Chapter 314 - 314: Aerial Assault Goblins The little goblins shifted nervously, their tiny, malnourished frames trembling under Volk''s towering presence. Yet, their eyes¡ªdim and haunted¡ªheld a faint spark of something Volk hadn''t seen in them before: purpose. One of the goblins, the same small one who had spoken earlier, took a timid step forward and cleared its throat, glancing hesitantly up at him. "W-We¡­ we need things," it stammered, its voice cracking. "Tools. Wood. Metal. Rope. Anything we can find." Volk''s crimson eyes narrowed as he looked down at the creature. "Things? For what?" he asked, crossing his arms, his voice low and almost predatory. The goblins flinched at his tone, but the little one mustered its courage. "To¡­ build," it whispered. Its fingers fidgeted nervously, wringing the tattered edge of its sleeve. "If we''re to make what my father did, we''ll need things to work with. We''ll need tools and¡­ and¡­" "And what?" Volk pressed, his patience beginning to wear thin. The goblin gulped, glancing back at its companions for support. They all huddled together, their heads bobbing as if silently urging it to continue. "And time," it said at last. "It won''t be fast, but if we try¡ªif we remember¡ªmaybe we can make something." The request was almost laughable. Volk looked at the tiny goblins¡ªfrail, starving, with hands that trembled even as they clung to one another¡ªand then at the scattered remnants of his horde, who stood watching with a mixture of confusion and faint amusement. A bark of laughter escaped him, harsh and humorless. "You think you can build something?" Volk asked, his tone laced with disbelief. He gestured broadly at the goblins, their feeble forms barely capable of standing upright. "You, who look as though a stiff breeze could blow you away? What could you possibly make that would be worth the effort?" The little goblin didn''t shrink back this time. Instead, it raised its chin slightly, its yellow eyes glinting with a faint hint of defiance. "It doesn''t matter what we look like," it said, its voice steadier now. "If you give us what we need, we''ll try. That''s all we can do." Volk stared at it for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to the surprise of everyone present, he gave a sharp nod. "Fine," he said, his tone curt. "You want materials? We''ll give you materials. But don''t waste my time." He turned to his horde, his voice booming as he barked out orders. "Gather everything we have¡ªwood, metal scraps, ropes, even cloth. Anything that might be useful, bring it here." The orcs and ogres exchanged dubious glances but didn''t dare argue. They grunted their acknowledgments and began scattering in all directions, scouring the area for supplies. The goblins, meanwhile, seemed to come alive at Volk''s begrudging approval. Their hunched postures straightened slightly, and their eyes glimmered with a strange light as they huddled together, whispering hurriedly. It was as though some dormant instinct had been awakened within them¡ªa primal memory of a time when their kind had been creators, not just victims. As the materials began to pile up¡ªplanks of wood, twisted scraps of metal, frayed ropes, and even a few battered tools¡ªthe goblins moved with surprising efficiency. They scrambled over the supplies, sorting them into neat piles with quick, precise movements. Their small hands, though calloused and dirty, were surprisingly nimble as they began to assemble makeshift tools from the available scraps. Volk watched with a mixture of bemusement and skepticism. The goblins worked with a kind of frenetic energy, their bony frames darting back and forth like overactive ants. It was almost comical¡ªthese tiny, half-starved creatures, chattering excitedly as they hammered and tied and carved with an intensity that bordered on obsessive. "They look like a bunch of children at some human academy," Volk muttered under his breath, his lips twitching in a rare, fleeting smirk. "Building some school project for a teacher''s approval." Indeed, there was an odd, almost youthful enthusiasm to their movements. The goblins bickered over designs, gesturing wildly with their thin arms as they debated the best way to attach a plank or secure a joint. One of them, a particularly tiny creature with a squeaky voice, seemed to have taken on the role of leader, barking out instructions in a tone that was both commanding and utterly absurd coming from such a small figure. "No, no, no! The rope goes there, not there!" it squeaked, waving a stick emphatically at its companions. "And tie it tighter! If it''s loose, the whole thing will fall apart!" Volk raised an eyebrow, folding his arms as he leaned against the cave wall. He had to admit, the goblins were far more organized than he''d expected. Despite their frail appearance, they moved with purpose, their hands deftly weaving ropes, hammering nails, and carving intricate patterns into the wooden planks. "What exactly are they making?" one of the orcs muttered, scratching its head as it watched the goblins with a bemused expression. Volk didn''t answer immediately. His sharp eyes scanned the goblins'' work, noting the crude but functional designs beginning to take shape. It was clear that the goblins had a vision¡ªalbeit one that was difficult for anyone else to decipher. Hours passed, and the goblins showed no signs of slowing down. Their initial hesitation had vanished, replaced by a kind of feverish determination. They worked tirelessly, their thin bodies drenched in sweat but their eyes alight with purpose. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk found himself strangely fascinated by their progress. Despite their small size and apparent fragility, the goblins displayed a level of creativity and ingenuity that was both unexpected and impressive. They used every scrap of material to its fullest potential, turning even the most unassuming items into essential components of their project. Finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the goblins stepped back from their creation, their faces flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. Before them stood a bizarre, ramshackle contraption that defied easy description. It was part cart, part trebuchet, part¡­ something else entirely. Volk approached the structure, his crimson eyes narrowing as he examined it closely. "What is it?" he asked, his tone skeptical but tinged with curiosity. The tiny goblin who had been acting as the leader stepped forward, its chest puffed out with pride. "It''s¡­ not done yet," it admitted, scratching its head sheepishly. "But it''s a start. This¡­ this will help us. It''s like what my father used to build, but¡­ simpler. Safer." Volk raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "And you think this will work?" he asked, his voice low and probing. The goblin hesitated for a moment, then nodded firmly. "It has to," it said simply. "We''ll keep working until it does." For a moment, Volk said nothing. Then, a slow, rare smile spread across his face. "Good," he said, his voice filled with a rare note of approval. "Then keep going. Show me what you can do." The goblins'' faces lit up with a mixture of relief and determination. They turned back to their work, their small hands moving with renewed energy as they began to refine and improve their creation. Volk stepped back, folding his arms as he watched them. For the first time, he felt a flicker of genuine hope. These goblins, as pitiful as they had seemed, might just prove to be the key to his horde''s survival¡ªand perhaps even its ultimate victory. Chapter 315 - 315: Flight Test The goblins worked tirelessly, their nimble fingers flying across wood, metal, and rope as they shaped the final components of their strange contraptions. Each step seemed to breathe life into their creations. The Horde stood by, watching with a mix of skepticism and curiosity as the goblins, drenched in sweat and caked in dirt, moved with a determination that defied their frail forms. At last, the lead goblin¡ªtiny and squeaky but commanding respect among its kind¡ªstood before the largest structure they had built. It raised its arms high, calling for attention, and squeaked out, "Done! We''re done!" The rest of the goblins collapsed onto the ground, exhausted but victorious. Before them stood a series of crude but sturdy harnesses, wings crafted from wood and tightly stretched cloth, and strange devices that gleamed faintly with magical energy. The contraptions looked bizarre, a mix of primitive engineering and faint traces of magic, but there was no denying they were functional. Volk stepped forward, his crimson eyes scanning the contraptions. His expression was unreadable as he examined the makeshift gliders and equipment. "These will work?" he asked, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs of the Horde. The lead goblin puffed out its chest, though it still trembled under Volk''s gaze. "Y-Yes, Warchief!" it stammered. "They''re not perfect, but they''ll let your warriors fly short distances! Enough to fight those in the sky or get higher ground quickly!" The Horde erupted into murmurs of astonishment. Orcs and ogres alike leaned closer, muttering to one another as they eyed the strange devices. The idea of flying was as foreign to them as the stars themselves, and yet here it was¡ªa possibility crafted by the most unlikely of hands. Volk narrowed his eyes, looking at the goblins with a mix of surprise and grudging respect. "You''ve outdone yourselves," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "If these work, we might stand a chance." The Horde watched as Volk gestured for the goblins to demonstrate the devices. Two of the goblins scrambled forward, picking up a pair of the crude gliders. They strapped themselves in with practiced ease, their tiny hands working deftly to tighten the leather straps around their waists and shoulders. Then, with an audible gulp, they flapped the wings experimentally and launched themselves off a nearby ledge. For a moment, there was only silence. The goblins soared through the air in clumsy, wobbling arcs, their squeals of terror ringing out. But then, as they adjusted their movements, they began to glide more smoothly. The Horde erupted into cheers and laughter, watching the goblins land on the ground with wide, triumphant grins. Volk''s lips twitched into a faint smile. He turned to his Horde, his voice booming. "You''ve seen it with your own eyes! These goblins have given us the means to fight on even ground¡ªno, above ground! With this, we will hunt those who think themselves untouchable!" The Horde roared in approval, their voices echoing through the cavern. The goblins, emboldened by the reaction, hurried forward to distribute the equipment. Each orc and ogre took their turn donning the gliders and harnesses. The straps were rough and the fit awkward, but the warriors adjusted quickly, their hulking forms now adorned with the crude yet functional devices. The sight was almost comical¡ªgiant, muscular orcs and ogres awkwardly flapping wooden wings like oversized birds¡ªbut the Horde took it seriously. They adjusted their stances, tested the balance of the contraptions, and practiced small jumps to get a feel for the gliders. Volk stood at the center of it all, his sharp gaze assessing each warrior as they adapted to the new equipment. He gave pointers where needed, his commanding presence ensuring that no one dared to slack off. Though he wouldn''t admit it aloud, he felt a strange sense of pride as he watched his Horde transform before his eyes. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The lead goblin scurried up to Volk, its yellow eyes gleaming with excitement. "Warchief," it said breathlessly, "there''s more! The tools¡ªmy father''s tools¡ªwe used them to make these, but there''s still potential! If we had more time, more resources, we could¡ª" "Enough," Volk interrupted, though not unkindly. He placed a heavy hand on the goblin''s shoulder, nearly knocking it over. "You''ve done more than enough for now. Rest. You''ve earned it." The goblin nodded quickly, retreating to join its exhausted comrades. Volk turned back to his Horde, his voice rising above the clamor. "Warriors of Lyern! We are no longer bound to the earth! With these wings, we will hunt our enemies in their own domain! Prepare yourselves¡ªour fight is far from over!" The Horde erupted into another cheer, their voices shaking the very walls of the cavern. For the first time in what felt like ages, hope burned brightly among them. And as Volk looked out over his transformed Horde, he allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. Volk raised his hand, silencing the cacophony of cheers from his Horde. His crimson eyes scanned the warriors before him, now awkwardly outfitted with the goblin-made gliders. The initial novelty had faded, replaced with a sense of purpose. But Volk wasn''t one to leave things to chance. "These contraptions," he began, his voice booming through the cavern, "are untested in real combat. The sky is not forgiving. If you cannot handle these wings, you will fall. And if you fall, you die." The weight of his words pressed on the Horde. The orcs and ogres stiffened, gripping their new gear tightly. The goblins, still gathered near the edges of the cavern, exchanged nervous glances. Volk let the silence linger for a moment, then barked, "We test them now!" The command was met with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Volk pointed toward the cavern''s upper ledges, natural platforms jutting out like jagged steps toward the ceiling. "Get up there. All of you equipped with wings, climb. You''ll jump and glide. No excuses, no hesitation." The Horde obeyed immediately, their movements swift despite the cumbersome gliders. Ogres lumbered toward the walls, their powerful arms hauling their massive bodies upward with surprising ease. Orcs followed, their wiry frames scaling the jagged rocks with practiced agility. The cavern echoed with the scrape of boots, the clang of armor, and the occasional grunt of effort. Below, Volk watched with a critical eye, arms crossed over his chest. He observed every misstep, every hesitation. The goblins, too small to climb, scurried to the base of the walls, shouting haphazard advice. "Don''t lean too far forward!" one squeaked. "Flap harder on the left!" another piped up. When the first ogre reached the top of a ledge, Volk barked, "Jump!" The ogre hesitated for a heartbeat, looking down at the dizzying drop. Then, with a roar, it leapt into the void. The crude wings spread wide, catching the air with a hollow whumph. The ogre''s descent was shaky, the wings wobbling under the strain of its massive body. But it glided nonetheless, landing with a thunderous crash on the ground below. The cavern erupted into cheers. Volk raised his hand again, silencing them. "Next!" he ordered. One by one, the Horde leapt from the ledges. Some glides were smooth, others chaotic. An orc spiraled out of control, landing face-first with a loud thud that sent dust flying. Another overshot the landing zone, slamming into a rock wall with a painful crack. Volk''s sharp gaze tracked each attempt, his mind calculating who was adapting and who was struggling. "You call that flying?" Volk snarled at one orc, who had barely managed to glide a few feet before crashing. "Try again, and this time, act like you''ve got more than mud between your ears!" The orc, battered but determined, scrambled back up the wall. As the tests continued, Volk began to see patterns. The ogres, though strong, struggled to maintain control due to their size and weight. The orcs, more agile, adapted faster but lacked the brute strength to power through turbulence. The goblin-made contraptions were far from perfect, but they were functional. It was a start. Finally, after what felt like hours, Volk raised his hand. "Enough!" The Horde gathered before him, sweat-soaked and bruised but standing tall. The goblins shuffled nervously at the edges, their yellow eyes darting toward Volk as if awaiting judgment. "Not bad," Volk said, his tone grudging. "You''re clumsy, slow, and half of you look like you''re trying to wrestle the wind instead of glide on it. But you''ll learn. You''ll adapt. Because if you don''t, you''ll die." His words were harsh, but the Horde responded with a unified roar of determination. The orcs beat their chests, and the ogres pounded the ground with their massive fists. Volk turned his gaze toward the goblins, his expression softening ever so slightly. "These wings¡ªyour work¡ªhave given us a fighting chance. You''ve proven your worth to this Horde." The goblins'' faces lit up, their chests puffing with pride. One of them, the lead goblin who had overseen the construction, stepped forward. "W-Warchief," it stammered, "we can make them better! Stronger! Just give us more time and¡ª" "You''ll get your time," Volk interrupted. "But for now, we''ve got more work to do." He turned back to the Horde, his crimson eyes blazing. "This was just the beginning. You''ve tasted the sky. Now, we master it. Prepare yourselves¡ªwe move out at dawn." Chapter 316 - 316: Surface The Horde of Lyern stirred to life before the first light of dawn. The cavern, their home for what felt like an eternity, was alive with movement and purpose. Orcs adjusted their armor, their gruff voices echoing as they strapped on crude gliders built by their newest and smallest allies. Ogres hefted their massive weapons, occasionally testing the contraptions strapped to their backs with experimental flaps that sent gusts of air through the cavern. The goblins, exhausted but energized by a sense of accomplishment, darted between the larger warriors, checking straps, muttering final instructions, and occasionally dodging a careless swipe from an ogre''s swinging arm. At the center of it all stood Volk, his crimson eyes scanning his Horde with a mixture of pride and scrutiny. His presence alone commanded order amidst the chaos. One by one, he barked commands, and his warriors snapped to attention, their movements sharpening under his gaze. "Today, we leave this pit," Volk growled, his voice cutting through the noise like the edge of a blade. "No more hiding. No more waiting. We march, but this time¡ª" his gaze swept over the small group of goblins standing nervously at the edge of the gathering, "we march with new allies. These goblins have given us the tools to fight the enemy in their own domain. They are part of the Horde now. Treat them as such." The goblins straightened under the weight of his words, their wide, yellow eyes darting nervously at the towering orcs and ogres around them. The larger warriors muttered among themselves, some grumbling, others nodding in agreement. Volk''s decree was absolute, and no one dared challenge it. With a sharp gesture, Volk signaled the start of their march. The Horde began to move, their collective presence a thundering echo within the cavern. Boots clanged against the stone, the rhythmic pounding reverberating like a drumbeat of war. The ogres, massive and slow, took the rear, their heavy footfalls sending small vibrations through the ground. The orcs moved with a hunter''s grace, their steps precise and calculated. And weaving between them, almost invisible in comparison, were the goblins, their small frames darting to and fro as they struggled to keep up. The journey toward the mouth of the cave was slow, deliberate. Every step was a reminder of their purpose, every movement a testament to their unity. The light of torches flickered against the jagged walls, casting long shadows that danced across the cavern ceiling like restless spirits. As they ascended, the air began to change. The damp, musty scent of the underground gave way to something crisper, cooler. A faint breeze whispered through the cavern, carrying with it the promise of open skies. The goblins, unused to such a sensation, paused occasionally to sniff the air, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Volk, at the front, led them with unwavering confidence. His heavy boots struck the ground with purpose, each step a declaration of his resolve. The torch he carried illuminated the path ahead, the warm glow casting his imposing shadow against the cavern walls. Behind him, his Horde followed, their formations tight, their eyes fixed on the path ahead. As they neared the mouth of the cave, the light grew brighter, the breeze stronger. The first hints of dawn painted the rock walls with hues of gold and amber, a stark contrast to the cold, dark interior they were leaving behind. The goblins shielded their eyes, squinting at the unfamiliar brightness. When they finally emerged into the open, the Horde came to a halt. The sight before them was breathtaking. The world stretched out in all directions, vast and wild. Rolling hills blanketed in morning mist, ancient trees that reached for the heavens, and a sky painted in hues of orange and pink. The air was crisp, alive, carrying the distant calls of birds and the rustle of leaves. The orcs and ogres stood tall, their chests swelling with the fresh air. For a moment, even the most hardened among them seemed softened by the beauty of the world outside. The goblins, too, stood in awe, their eyes wide as they took in the expanse before them. Volk turned to face his Horde, his crimson eyes gleaming in the light of dawn. Behind him, the rising sun cast a halo of gold around his towering frame. "This is where we fight," he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of his conviction. "This is where we reclaim what is ours. With these wings, with these new allies¡ªtogether, we will conquer the skies." The Horde let out a unified roar, the sound echoing across the hills and trees. The goblins, emboldened by the display, joined in with high-pitched squeaks, their voices blending with the deeper cries of the orcs and ogres. And so, they began their march. The landscape around them shifted as they moved. The hills gave way to dense forests, the trees towering above them like ancient sentinels. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the ground. The Horde moved as one, their formations unbroken despite the uneven terrain. The goblins, though small, proved resourceful. They scurried ahead, scouting the path, pointing out obstacles, and occasionally clambering up trees to get a better view. Their nimbleness complemented the brute strength of the orcs and ogres, creating a sense of balance within the group. Volk observed it all, his mind racing with possibilities. The addition of the goblins had shifted the dynamics of his Horde. They brought something new, something vital. As he watched them work, a rare flicker of hope stirred within him. The journey was long, the march arduous. But the Horde pressed on, their resolve unwavering. They were no longer just warriors bound to the ground. With the goblins at their side, they were something more¡ªsomething greater. And as they moved deeper into the wild, Volk allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. This was just the beginning. The Horde of Lyern came to an abrupt halt as Volk raised his hand, signaling them to stop. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, and the sound of gnawing echoed faintly in the distance. Ahead of them, in a clearing just beyond the trees, lay the skeletal remains of the giant bird they had slain the previous day. Its bones, gleaming unnaturally white in the morning light, were scattered like the remnants of some ancient monument. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But it wasn''t the bones that held their attention¡ªit was the creatures crouched upon them. The bat-like beings were hunched and grotesque, their leathery wings folded tightly against their sinewy bodies. Their skin was an ashen gray, mottled with veins that pulsed faintly in the sunlight. Sharp claws scraped against the bird''s bones as they tore off remnants of flesh, their elongated jaws revealing rows of jagged, blood-stained teeth. Long, angular ears twitched, alert to the slightest sound, while their glowing, crimson eyes darted nervously across their surroundings. There were dozens of them, perhaps more, scattered around the clearing. They moved with an eerie grace, their movements almost predatory, as though they were as much scavengers as hunters. Occasionally, one would hiss, the sound like the tearing of fabric, before plunging its fangs into the remaining sinew. Volk observed the scene carefully, his crimson eyes narrowing as he took in every detail. These creatures were unlike the harpies or the giant bird they had faced before. They exuded an unsettling aura, a sense of cunning and malice that set his instincts on edge. He turned to his Horde, his voice low but commanding. "These¡­ things," he said, gesturing toward the bat-like creatures, "are our first target. They have already defiled our kill. Let them serve as the perfect test for what we''ve built." The orcs and ogres stiffened, their weapons at the ready. The goblins, though smaller and less confident, mirrored their movements, gripping their tools and gliders with determination. "But remember," Volk continued, his voice rising slightly. "This is no ordinary fight. We''re not grounded anymore. These creatures have wings, but so do we. Prove to me that what we have created is not just tools¡ªbut power!" The Horde roared in unison, their battle cries shaking the very trees around them. Even the goblins joined in, their high-pitched screeches blending with the deeper, guttural cries of the orcs and the booming voices of the ogres. Volk raised his hand again, silencing them with a single gesture. "Prepare for combat," he commanded. "It''s time for the test run." The Horde sprang into action. The goblins scurried among the larger warriors, distributing final adjustments to the gliders and weapons they had crafted. Orcs and ogres strapped themselves into their makeshift flight gear, their movements hurried but precise. The goblins checked every strap, every joint, ensuring that the contraptions would hold. Volk stepped forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow over his warriors. His eyes flicked between the bat creatures and his Horde, calculating every possibility. He gripped the hilt of his weapon tightly, his crimson gaze sharpening. "Spread out," he ordered, his voice cutting through the rustling of leaves and the faint screeches of the bat creatures. "Let''s see if these creatures can handle what we''ve become." As the Horde moved into position, the bat creatures seemed to sense the shift in the air. Their movements became more erratic, their crimson eyes glowing brighter as they hissed and screeched, their wings unfurling in preparation for flight. Volk smirked, his voice a growl of anticipation. "Let the hunt begin." Chapter 317 - 317: Real time The Horde charged forward with their newly crafted gadgets strapped to their backs, their formations breaking into an uncoordinated mess as they prepared to confront the bat creatures. The ogres were the first to leap, their large gliders straining under their bulk as they launched themselves awkwardly into the air. Fwoosh! The wings of their contraptions flapped with a mechanical groan, sending them lurching upward in an uneven arc. One of the ogres tilted too far to the right, spinning uncontrollably before slamming into a tree with a thunderous CRASH!. "Ughh!" he groaned, pulling himself up as branches rained down around him. The orcs were no better. Their smaller frames made the gliders easier to maneuver, but they were erratic in their movements, zigzagging through the air with no sense of direction. One soared too low, clipping the edge of a rock, while another spiraled upward, only to stall and plummet to the ground in a heap. The goblins¡ªsmall and nimble¡ªhad better luck getting airborne, but their enthusiasm was their undoing. They flitted about like oversized dragonflies, colliding with each other mid-air or forgetting entirely how to land. Volk stood at the center of the chaos, his crimson eyes narrowing as he observed the pandemonium. His fingers twitched at his sides, and his jaw tightened as he fought back the urge to shout. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he cupped his hands around his mouth and roared, his voice booming like thunder across the battlefield. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! ORC, YOU''RE NOT A DRUNK BIRD, STOP SWERVING!" he bellowed, pointing at a particularly clumsy warrior. The orc in question flailed, his glider tilting dangerously to one side before he managed to straighten it out. "Ogre! Stop trying to crush the air! Fly! Your weight isn''t the problem¡ªit''s your lack of balance! Keep your arms steady!" An ogre growled in frustration but followed Volk''s advice, his massive frame stabilizing slightly as his glider began to level out. "And you, goblins!" Volk turned his fiery gaze toward the smaller creatures buzzing around like chaotic bees. "STOP FLYING INTO EACH OTHER! Space yourselves out or I''ll toss you all into the trees myself!" The goblins squeaked in terror but quickly began to spread out, their movements becoming less erratic as they adjusted their flight paths. One of the bat creatures took notice of the disorganized Horde and launched itself toward a goblin, its claws outstretched and its jaws snapping with a feral screech. "LEFT! DODGE LEFT!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The goblin barely managed to veer to the side, the bat creature''s claws missing him by inches. The little goblin squealed in fright, his glider wobbling precariously before he managed to regain control. Volk growled under his breath, his hands tightening into fists. "This is a mess. We''ll be picked off one by one at this rate. Focus, you fools!" Another bat creature swooped low, aiming for an orc who was struggling to ascend. The orc raised his weapon to block but overcompensated, his glider pitching backward as he flailed helplessly. "STOP SWINGING WILDLY! Stabilize first, then strike!" Volk shouted, his voice carrying over the screeches of the bat creatures. The orc gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip on the glider''s controls before steadying himself. With a sharp, focused swing, he brought his weapon down on the bat creature''s wing, severing it with a sickening SNAP!. The creature shrieked in agony, spiraling to the ground in a flurry of leathery wings and blood. "Yes! That''s it!" Volk roared, a fierce grin spreading across his face. "That''s how it''s done! Pay attention to your movements, and don''t panic!" He turned his gaze upward, scanning the chaos for more errors to correct. His sharp eyes caught sight of an ogre who was struggling to climb higher, his glider straining under his weight. "OGRE! Push your weight forward, not back! You''re too heavy to rely on the wings alone¡ªuse momentum to your advantage!" The ogre grunted in acknowledgment, leaning forward as he flapped his glider''s wings with renewed vigor. Slowly but surely, he began to ascend, his massive frame cutting through the air with surprising grace. Meanwhile, one of the goblins managed to outmaneuver a bat creature, darting around its claws and landing a precise strike on its side with a small dagger. The bat creature screeched, retreating as the goblin let out a triumphant cheer. Volk''s eyes gleamed with approval as he watched the goblin dart away, his movements fluid and confident. "Finally," Volk muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile. "One of them is improving." Volk''s sharp eyes darted from one struggling Horde member to another, his jaw set in frustration. Though some had begun to adapt, the battlefield was still rife with mistakes that grated on his nerves. With the cacophony of clashing weapons, screeching bat creatures, and the occasional THUD of a clumsy ogre or orc crashing to the ground, Volk''s booming voice cut through the chaos like a war drum. "NO! Not like that! You''re flying sideways, idiot!" he roared, pointing furiously at a wobbling goblin whose glider spun in a slow, pathetic spiral toward a cluster of trees. "Do you want to impale yourself on a branch?! Adjust the left wing, NOW!" The goblin squeaked in terror, fumbling with the controls. He managed to level out at the last second, his tiny legs flailing wildly as he regained altitude. "Orc! Stop flapping like a dying fish!" Volk snapped, his voice full of exasperation. He jabbed a finger at a stout orc whose massive glider was struggling against the air. "It''s not about brute strength! Match the rhythm of your wings with your speed! You''re not smashing rocks; you''re gliding! Use finesse, not force!" The orc growled but complied, his movements becoming more controlled as he started to gain some semblance of balance. Volk''s attention shifted to an ogre who was floundering near the treetops, his massive frame swinging back and forth like a pendulum. "OGRE! What did I just say about balance?!" Volk bellowed, his voice raw from shouting. "You''re not a wrecking ball! Keep your center of gravity steady! Lean forward, not backward!" The ogre grunted, his face twisted in concentration as he adjusted his posture. Slowly, he began to stabilize, his glider no longer swaying wildly. Another goblin zipped past, his small glider wobbling dangerously as he weaved between bat creatures. Volk watched as the goblin barely avoided a swipe from one of the monsters, his glider tilting so far to one side that he was practically hanging by a thread. "GOBLIN! What are you doing?! That''s not dodging; that''s falling!" Volk roared, his crimson eyes blazing. "Use the air currents to your advantage! Tilt the wings properly, and you won''t have to risk your neck every time something swings at you!" The goblin nodded frantically, adjusting his controls. He managed a sharp turn that sent him soaring upward, narrowly avoiding another attack. But Volk wasn''t satisfied yet. His gaze swept across the battlefield, catching sight of another orc who was swinging wildly at a bat creature, his glider jerking with every strike. "ORC! Have you learned nothing?!" Volk shouted, his voice practically shaking the leaves from the trees. "Your glider isn''t a toy! Stabilize before you attack, or you''ll just end up feeding yourself to those things!" The orc growled in frustration but took a deep breath, steadying his glider before lunging at the bat creature. His blade sliced cleanly through the monster''s wing, sending it plummeting to the ground with a guttural screech. "Better!" Volk barked, nodding in approval. "But next time, aim for the throat. We''re not here to make them suffer; we''re here to win!" Despite the progress, there were still too many errors for Volk''s liking. His voice rose again, cutting through the din like a whip. "ALL OF YOU, LISTEN UP! STOP MOVING LIKE HEADLESS CHICKENS! Watch your surroundings! Coordinate with each other! If one of you falls, it''s your fault for not covering each other''s backs!" The Horde began to respond to his commands, their movements gradually becoming more cohesive. Orcs and goblins paired up, covering each other as they maneuvered through the air. Ogres, though slower, used their size to block incoming bat creatures, giving the smaller fighters room to strike. Volk''s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of another ogre struggling to ascend. "OGRE! What did I say about momentum?! Stop flapping like you''re drowning and use your weight to your advantage! Push forward, not upward!" The ogre grunted in acknowledgment, his massive glider tilting forward as he gained speed. His movements became more fluid, his bulk cutting through the air like a boulder rolling downhill. Volk allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction before his attention snapped to another goblin who was hesitating mid-air, his small hands trembling as a bat creature closed in on him. "GOBLIN!" Volk roared, his voice sharp with urgency. "DON''T JUST SIT THERE! If you freeze, you die! Move, or strike¡ªdo something! Your life depends on it!" The goblin squeaked, his eyes wide with fear. But Volk''s words seemed to spark something in him. With a shaky breath, the goblin tightened his grip on his dagger and lunged at the bat creature, driving the blade into its chest. The monster let out a piercing screech before tumbling to the ground. "Good!" Volk shouted, his lips curling into a grin. "Now do it again! And this time, don''t look like you''re about to piss yourself!" Slowly but surely, the Horde''s movements began to improve. The goblins became more agile, darting through the air with surprising precision. The orcs started to find their rhythm, their gliders slicing through the sky with increasing control. Even the ogres, cumbersome as they were, began to move with a certain grace, their massive wings propelling them forward with steady power. Volk''s voice softened slightly as he observed the changes, though it still carried the weight of authority. "Yes¡­ that''s it," he muttered under his breath. "You''re finally starting to understand." He stepped back, his sharp gaze scanning the battlefield. The Horde was no longer a chaotic mess of flailing limbs and crashing bodies. They were fighters now¡ªrough around the edges, but fighters nonetheless. A faint smirk played across Volk''s lips as he crossed his arms, his crimson eyes gleaming with pride. "Finally," he muttered, his voice low but filled with satisfaction. "They''re grasping it." S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Chapter 318 - 318: Beration, not celebration The battle against the bat creatures raged on, the air filled with an unsettling mix of screeches and the rhythmic whir of the Horde''s new gliders. Victory felt within reach, but it wasn''t going to come quickly¡ªor easily. Each passing moment was a grind of blood, sweat, and sheer willpower, as the Horde pushed themselves to their limits to adapt and overcome their monstrous foes. Volk stood at the heart of the chaos, his crimson eyes burning with determination. He barked commands, his voice cutting through the cacophony like a blade. "Goblins, flank left! Orcs, cover their ascent! Ogres¡ªkeep the skies clear above them! You''re not here to decorate the ground with your failures!" One of the goblins zipped through the air, his tiny glider spinning erratically as he dodged a bat creature''s talons. His movements were jerky and unrefined, but he managed to stab his dagger into the beast''s leathery wing. The creature let out a guttural shriek before veering off course, slamming into a tree with a sickening CRACK. "Good hit, goblin! Now get back into formation before you''re plucked out of the sky!" Volk barked, pointing toward the center of their aerial ranks. The goblin nodded frantically, his glider wobbling as he darted back into position. An orc let out a battle cry as he drove his blade into the chest of another bat creature, the sheer force of the attack sending the monster spiraling downward. But before the orc could revel in his victory, another bat swooped down from above, its claws raking across his glider. The orc grunted in frustration, struggling to maintain control as his glider wavered dangerously. "ORC!" Volk roared, his voice sharp with urgency. "Pull up! Pull up now, or you''ll crash!" The orc obeyed, yanking on the controls with all his strength. His glider tilted upward just in time to avoid the jagged rocks below, though the strain on his face made it clear how close he''d come to disaster. "Don''t get cocky!" Volk snarled, his eyes narrowing. "One kill doesn''t mean you can let your guard down. Stay sharp, or I''ll personally throw you into the next fight without a glider!" The orc growled in acknowledgment, his grip tightening on the controls as he steeled himself for the next round. Meanwhile, the ogres were proving to be a mixed blessing. Their sheer size and strength made them formidable against the bat creatures, but their lack of agility was a constant problem. One ogre swung his massive club, striking a bat creature mid-air with a resounding BOOM. The beast crumpled under the force of the blow, its body plummeting to the ground like a stone. But another ogre wasn''t so lucky. His glider wobbled precariously as he swung at a bat creature, missing by a wide margin. The momentum of his swing threw him off balance, and his glider tilted dangerously to one side. "OGRE!" Volk shouted, his voice filled with frustration. "What did I say about overcommitting to your swings?! Balance first, attack second! You''re no use to us if you crash into the ground like an idiot!" The ogre grumbled but adjusted his stance, managing to steady himself just as another bat creature swooped toward him. This time, he waited for the right moment before swinging, his club connecting with a satisfying THWACK that sent the beast hurtling into the canopy below. Despite the mounting casualties among the bat creatures, the fight was far from over. The monsters seemed endless, their dark shapes flitting through the air like shadows, their screeches reverberating through the forest. Every time the Horde gained ground, another wave of bats would descend, their talons flashing like blades in the moonlight. Volk clenched his fists, his sharp mind racing as he analyzed the battlefield. He could see the progress his Horde had made¡ªtheir movements were more coordinated now, their strikes more precise¡ªbut there were still too many mistakes, too many openings for the bat creatures to exploit. "GOBLINS! Don''t cluster together! Spread out and use your speed to outmaneuver them!" Volk shouted, his voice laced with urgency. "Orcs, watch the goblins'' backs! If one of them goes down, it''s on you!" The goblins scattered, their gliders weaving through the air like darting swallows. One of them managed to outflank a bat creature, driving a small spear into its side. The beast let out a piercing shriek, thrashing wildly before collapsing into a heap on the forest floor. "Good! Keep at it!" Volk roared, his lips curling into a grim smile. "Show these monsters what happens when they cross the Horde of Lyern!" The tide of battle began to shift. The Horde was no longer just surviving; they were fighting back with growing confidence and skill. The goblins darted through the air like tiny assassins, their blades and spears finding their marks with increasing accuracy. The orcs formed a solid line of defense, their swords and axes cleaving through the bat creatures with brutal efficiency. And the ogres, despite their clumsiness, used their immense strength to devastating effect, their massive weapons smashing through the enemy ranks like battering rams. But the fight wasn''t swift. It was a war of attrition, a test of endurance and determination. Sweat dripped down Volk''s face as he barked command after command, his voice hoarse but unwavering. He could see the exhaustion in his Horde, the strain in their movements, but he also saw their resolve. "Hold the line!" Volk shouted, his voice ringing with authority. "We''ve come too far to lose now! Fight like your lives depend on it¡ªbecause they do!" Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last bat creature fell, its body crumpling to the ground with a dull THUD. The forest fell silent, the air heavy with the scent of blood and sweat. Volk stood tall, his crimson eyes scanning the battlefield. His Horde was battered and bruised, their new gliders covered in scratches and dents, but they were alive. They had fought, they had adapted, and they had won. A faint smirk played across Volk''s lips as he took a deep breath, his chest heaving with exhaustion. "Not bad," he muttered, his voice low but filled with pride. "Not bad at all." As the final bat creature crumpled to the ground with a sickening THUD, the forest fell into an eerie silence. For a brief moment, the Horde stood frozen, their eyes scanning the battlefield, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, as the weight of their victory sank in, a roar of triumph erupted from their ranks. The goblins whooped and cheered, their small forms bounding into the air, gliders abandoned on the ground as they celebrated. The orcs slammed their weapons against their shields with thunderous CLANGS, their cries echoing through the forest. Even the ogres, bruised and battered, let out deep, guttural bellows of victory, their massive fists raised high. But just as the jubilation reached its peak, Volk''s booming voice cut through the noise like a blade. "Silence!" he bellowed, his crimson eyes blazing as he stepped forward. The cheering faltered, and the Horde quickly fell quiet, their triumphant expressions fading under Volk''s glare. "Celebrate?" Volk spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think this calls for celebration? Look around you!" He gestured sharply toward the battlefield, littered with the shattered remains of gliders, broken weapons, and the bloodied bodies of both the bat creatures and his own Horde. "This wasn''t smooth. This wasn''t efficient. This was a mess!" The goblins, who had been practically glowing with pride moments earlier, now shrank back, their wide eyes darting to the ground. The orcs exchanged uneasy glances, and the ogres shifted uncomfortably, their massive frames hunched as if trying to shrink under Volk''s withering gaze. "You call this progress?" Volk continued, his voice rising with fury. "You were sloppy! Uncoordinated! Half of you didn''t even know where you were supposed to be, let alone how to execute an effective attack!" He turned sharply to one of the goblins, whose face was smeared with soot and whose glider was missing a wing. "You," Volk snapped, his tone icy. "How many times did I tell you to maintain formation? Do you even know the meaning of the word?!" The goblin stammered, his small hands wringing together nervously. "I¡ªI thought¡ª" Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You thought wrong!" Volk barked, cutting him off. "You broke formation three times, and each time you almost got yourself killed. If the enemy had been stronger, you''d be nothing more than a smear on the ground!" He turned to an orc next, his eyes narrowing. "And you! What in the gods'' names were you doing? Swinging blindly at anything that moved? You''re not an ogre, you fool! Use your head or lose it!" The orc''s jaw tightened, but he nodded stiffly, his face flushed with shame. Volk paced in front of the Horde, his crimson eyes scanning each member with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. "You want to celebrate? Fine. Celebrate when you''ve earned it. Celebrate when your movements are precise, when your formations are unbreakable, when your enemies don''t even have a chance to lay a claw on you before they''re dead at your feet. That''s when you celebrate. Not now." The Horde stood in tense silence, their heads bowed as Volk''s words sank in. After a moment, Volk let out a heavy sigh, his expression softening slightly. "But," he said, his tone calmer now, "you fought. You endured. And you survived. That means something. It means you have potential. But potential isn''t enough." He straightened, his crimson eyes blazing once more. "We''re not here to scrape by. We''re here to dominate. To conquer. To be the force that every creature fears when they see us coming. And if you want to be that force, then you''ll need to be better. Much better." The Horde nodded, their expressions a mixture of determination and shame. "Good," Volk said, his voice firm. "Now pick up your gear, repair your gliders, and prepare for the next fight. There''s no rest for the weak, and right now, you''re all still weak." As the Horde dispersed to carry out his orders, Volk stood alone for a moment, his sharp mind already analyzing the battle. He knew they had made progress¡ªhowever rough and unrefined¡ªbut it wasn''t enough. Not yet. Not until every movement, every strike, was flawless. The sound of hammers on metal and the murmurs of the Horde filled the air as they began their work, and Volk allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. They would get there. He would make sure of it. . Chapter 319 - 319: My hunt As Volk strode ahead of the Horde, his sharp, crimson eyes swept across the rugged terrain, scanning for any movement in the dense underbrush or atop the jagged cliffs. The forest was alive with the sounds of nature¡ªcrickets chirping, wind rustling through the treetops, and distant calls of nocturnal predators. But beneath these natural sounds, Volk detected something else: the faint crunch of heavy paws against the undergrowth and the guttural snarls of predators marking their territory. He raised a hand, signaling the Horde to stop. Their armor clinked softly as they halted, weapons ready but still. Volk motioned for silence, and the Horde obeyed, their gazes following his as he fixed his attention on a shadowy clearing ahead. There, illuminated by streaks of pale moonlight, were three hulking beasts. Their forms were massive, each standing nearly twice the height of an ogre, with sinewy limbs rippling under thick, matted fur. Their heads were wolf-like but distorted, with elongated snouts lined with jagged teeth that gleamed even in the faint light. Their eyes glowed an unnatural yellow, and each movement they made exuded a terrifying, predatory grace. Volk crouched low, narrowing his eyes to focus on the creatures. One of them¡ªa pack leader, he presumed¡ªstood taller than the others, its fur darker and its posture more confident. It sniffed the air, the ridges along its snout flaring as if it had caught their scent. The beast let out a low growl, the sound reverberating through the clearing like a warning bell. The other two flanked it, their bodies hunched and coiled like springs ready to launch. Their claws dug into the earth with each step, leaving deep gouges in the soil. Volk noted their patterns¡ªhow they moved in sync, circling their leader but never crossing its path. These were not mindless beasts; they were organized, intelligent predators. The pack seemed to be guarding something. In the center of the clearing lay a carcass¡ªlarge, perhaps a stag or a boar. The meat was partially devoured, its bones picked clean in some places but still dripping with fresh blood in others. Around it, the earth was littered with scraps of fur and shards of bone, evidence of the beasts'' recent feast. Volk''s mind raced as he observed. He could see the tension in their movements, the way their muscles tensed and relaxed, as if they were ready to defend their meal at a moment''s notice. Their eyes scanned the perimeter, sharp and calculating. These were apex predators, confident in their strength, but Volk also saw their vulnerability. They were focused on the clearing, their attention centered on the carcass and any potential threats to their prize. Volk turned slightly, glancing back at his Horde. They stood ready, weapons in hand, but he raised his hand again, signaling them to stay put. "Stand by," he whispered, his voice barely audible yet firm. The orcs exchanged glances, their hands tightening around the hilts of their weapons. One of the ogres shifted his massive weight, causing the ground to tremble slightly. Volk shot him a sharp glare, and the ogre froze, his expression sheepish. Volk turned back to the clearing, his mind already formulating a plan. These beasts were dangerous, yes, but not invincible. Their strength lay in their coordination, their ability to work as a unit. If he could disrupt that, he could exploit their weaknesses. Still crouched, Volk adjusted the gauntlets on his hands, the faint hum of magic emanating from the runes etched into the metal. The Horde behind him watched in silence, their expressions a mix of awe and anticipation. "Wait here," Volk said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This is my hunt." The goblins exchanged nervous glances, their small hands fidgeting with their tools. One of them opened his mouth to protest, but an orc quickly silenced him with a firm hand on his shoulder. They all knew better than to question Volk when he spoke like that. Volk straightened, stepping forward with the measured grace of a predator himself. His boots made no sound against the forest floor as he approached the clearing. The beasts hadn''t noticed him yet, their attention still focused on their meal and the surrounding shadows. He stopped at the edge of the clearing, his crimson eyes narrowing as he studied them one last time. The pack leader''s ears twitched, and its head jerked up, its glowing eyes locking onto Volk. A low growl escaped its throat, and the other two beasts immediately turned toward him, their bodies lowering into defensive stances. Volk smirked, his gauntleted hand flexing as he prepared to engage. "Let''s see what you''re made of," he murmured under his breath. The pack leader let out a deafening roar, its muscles coiling as it prepared to charge. The other two beasts followed suit, their snarls filling the air as they lunged toward Volk with terrifying speed. Behind him, the Horde watched in tense silence, their breaths held as their leader faced the monstrous predators alone. As the beasts lunged toward Volk, their claws raking the air with deadly precision, he moved. His body blurred, vanishing in a shimmer of light just as the pack leader''s jaws snapped shut where his neck had been. SHOOM! He reappeared a few paces to the side, his gauntleted fists already crackling with energy. Without hesitation, he drove his palm forward, unleashing a concussive blast that struck one of the smaller beasts square in the side. BOOM! The force sent the creature sprawling, its massive body crashing into a nearby tree with a sickening crunch. The pack leader howled in fury, its golden eyes blazing with rage. It charged again, its powerful limbs tearing through the soil as it closed the distance in seconds. But Volk had already teleported. FWOOSH! He reappeared behind the beast, his crimson eyes gleaming with calculated intent. "You''re fast," Volk muttered, "but not fast enough." The second beast lunged at him from his blind side, its claws extended and glinting in the pale moonlight. Volk didn''t turn to face it. Instead, he simply shifted his weight, vanishing just as the creature''s claws sliced through empty air. He reappeared atop a nearby boulder, surveying the chaos with calm precision. The smaller beast he had struck earlier was back on its feet, snarling as it shook off the blow. Its companion joined it, and together they flanked the pack leader, their eyes locked onto Volk with animalistic hatred. The three beasts moved in unison, spreading out in an attempt to corner him. Volk smiled faintly. "Clever," he muttered. They charged simultaneously, their massive forms barreling toward him like unstoppable forces of nature. Volk waited until the last possible moment, his gaze sharp and unyielding. Then, just as their claws and fangs descended upon him, he vanished again. WHOOSH! Reappearing in the center of the clearing, Volk extended his hands outward. The runes on his gauntlets flared to life, and arcs of crimson energy surged from his palms, lashing out like whips. CRACK! CRACK! The energy struck the nearest beast, wrapping around its limbs and dragging it to the ground. It howled in pain, thrashing wildly as Volk tightened his grip, the energy burning through its thick hide. The pack leader roared, leaping over its fallen comrade to reach Volk. Its claws swiped at his torso, the blow powerful enough to shatter stone. But once again, Volk was gone. ZAP! He reappeared behind the pack leader, slamming his gauntleted fist into the back of its head with a resounding THUD! The creature stumbled forward, shaking its massive head as if trying to clear the stars from its vision. "You''re strong," Volk said, his voice calm but laced with menace. "But brute strength isn''t enough." The two smaller beasts regrouped, charging at Volk with renewed ferocity. They coordinated their attacks this time, one striking high while the other lunged low. Volk sidestepped the first, his movements almost too fast to follow, and teleported just as the second beast''s jaws snapped shut where his leg had been. Reappearing a few feet away, he raised his hand, releasing a concentrated blast of energy that tore through the smaller beast''s shoulder. BOOM! The creature screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground with blood pouring from its wound. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The pack leader, now enraged, roared so loudly that the trees shook. It charged Volk head-on, its claws glowing faintly with an eerie golden light. Volk narrowed his eyes, sensing a shift in the beast''s power. This wasn''t blind fury anymore¡ªit was a calculated, final attempt to take him down. The leader''s claws descended toward Volk in a blur of motion. For a moment, it seemed impossible for even Volk to avoid the attack. But just as the claws were about to connect, Volk teleported, reappearing directly above the beast. "Enough," he said coldly. With both hands, Volk unleashed a massive surge of energy directly onto the pack leader''s head. KA-THOOM! The blast engulfed the beast in a crimson explosion, its roar turning into a gurgled cry as it collapsed under the weight of the attack. The remaining beast, seeing its leader fall, hesitated. Its glowing eyes flicked between Volk and its fallen comrades, the primal instinct to survive warring with its loyalty to the pack. Volk gave it no time to decide. In a single motion, he raised his hand and released another burst of energy. ZAP! The blast struck the creature in the chest, sending it hurtling backward into a tree. Its body went limp, sliding to the ground with a heavy thud. For a moment, the clearing was silent, save for the faint crackle of energy dissipating from Volk''s gauntlets. He stood amidst the carnage, his crimson eyes scanning the fallen beasts to ensure none of them would rise again. One by one, the creatures let out their final, labored breaths, their massive forms going still. Volk exhaled slowly, lowering his hands as the runes on his gauntlets dimmed. Behind him, the Horde erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the forest. But Volk didn''t join them. His gaze remained fixed on the pack leader''s lifeless body, a faint frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Too predictable," he muttered to himself. Turning back toward the Horde, he raised a hand to silence their cheers. "The beasts have fallen," he said, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "But don''t celebrate yet. I only dealt with them so all of you could rest." Chapter 320 - 320: Real threat As the Horde began to settle down, exhaustion finally overtaking their adrenaline, they prepared to rest. Ogres, orcs, and even the newly-joined goblins sprawled across the clearing, some leaning against trees while others simply collapsed on the soft forest floor. The air was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, the occasional grunt, and the low hum of wind rustling through the trees. Volk leaned against a boulder, his crimson eyes scanning the dark horizon. His gauntlets rested in his lap, still faintly glowing from the battle, though their energy was now calm. He had no intention of relaxing¡ªnot yet. Though the beasts were defeated, something about the way they moved and attacked lingered in his mind. They had been organized, perhaps unnaturally so. Suddenly, the low murmurs of the Horde began to shift. Whispers turned into chuckles, and chuckles grew into bursts of laughter. One of the orcs, a burly figure with jagged armor, slapped his knee and called out, "Did you see him earlier? The way he vanished and reappeared like a shadow! I swear, I thought the beast had swallowed him at one point, and then¡ªpoof!¡ªhe''s behind it, blasting its hide off!" Another orc chimed in, his rough voice brimming with awe, "Too fast, I tell you! One moment he''s there, the next he''s gone. How does someone move like that?" An ogre, lying on his side and gnawing on the remains of a roasted leg from earlier, pointed a massive finger toward Volk. "You must teach us! Or at least tell us your trick. No one moves like that unless they''ve got something hidden!" Volk''s lips twitched into a faint smile, though he tried to suppress it. He shifted his weight and folded his arms, pretending to ignore the growing excitement around him. But it was impossible not to hear them as their voices grew louder, their spirits high despite their earlier exhaustion. "I bet it''s magic!" one of the goblins piped up, his small frame practically vibrating with energy. "You all saw those flashes of light! And the way the big beast couldn''t even touch him¡ªmagic for sure!" "That''s what it is," Volk finally said, his voice low but carrying enough weight to silence the chatter for a moment. The Horde turned to look at him, their eyes gleaming with curiosity and respect. "It''s just magic. Nothing more, nothing less." The words were meant to downplay his abilities, but instead, they only fueled the Horde''s amazement. "Just magic?" one of the orcs repeated, his tusks glinting as he grinned. "You''re too modest, Chief. That was no ordinary spellwork. If we could all do what you did, there wouldn''t be a creature alive to stand in our way!" Another round of laughter rippled through the group, and Volk, despite himself, couldn''t help but chuckle along. He leaned back against the boulder, his usually sharp demeanor softening ever so slightly. For once, he let himself enjoy the moment. The celebration slowly began to unfold. Someone pulled out a skin of mead, passing it around until it reached even the smallest goblins. The ogres started a rhythmic beat, pounding their fists on the ground like drums, while the orcs roared out songs of victory in their guttural tongue. Even the goblins joined in, their high-pitched voices a strange but endearing harmony to the deeper tones of the larger warriors. Volk found himself at the center of their praises. "Chief, tell us! How do you move so fast? Can you teach us?" "Were you born with magic, or did you learn it from some ancient wizard?" "Chief, when you vanished, I thought you had left us to fight alone¡ªbut then you were everywhere at once! Ha!" Volk raised his hand to quiet them, though his expression was uncharacteristically warm. "Enough. It''s not as grand as you think. I''ve simply... trained." This only prompted more laughter. "Trained to teleport? That''s rich!" "It''s true," Volk said, smirking faintly. "Years of practice. Dedication. A bit of luck. And maybe just a pinch of raw talent." The Horde erupted into another round of cheers and laughter. One of the goblins scampered up to Volk, his wide eyes gleaming with awe. "Can you show us again, Chief? The disappearing thing? Just one more time!" Volk sighed, though there was no real irritation in it. "Perhaps tomorrow," he said, waving the goblin away. "For now, rest. We''ve all earned it." But the Horde was in no mood to sleep. The ogres had started arm wrestling, their roars of triumph shaking the very ground. The orcs were sparring in mock battles, their axes clashing in a display of brute strength. The goblins, always resourceful, were darting around collecting shiny stones and discarded trinkets, chattering excitedly about building something with their newfound treasures. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk watched it all, a strange sense of pride swelling in his chest. This was his Horde. Chaotic, loud, and utterly unpredictable. But they were his. And though he would never admit it out loud, their celebration warmed something deep within him. For tonight, at least, he would let them have their victory where they could finally feel at ease on dealing with the threat from the sky. ¡­ The night was calm, but Volk''s senses, honed through years of battles and survival, stirred him from sleep. At first, it was faint¡ªa subtle whisper in the wind that brushed past his cheek like an unseen hand. He shifted slightly, his eyes still closed, but the sensation only grew. The air felt different, charged, as though the forest itself was holding its breath. Volk frowned in his sleep, his instincts battling his exhaustion. The distant rustling of leaves seemed almost intentional, like a melody played just out of tune. His brows furrowed, and he rolled onto his side, gripping the ground beneath him. The cool earth did nothing to quell the feeling that something was watching, waiting. And then, the wind shifted again, carrying with it an unfamiliar scent. It was subtle, almost indistinguishable from the earthy aroma of the forest, but it carried a strange undertone¡ªfeathers and something faintly metallic. Volk''s crimson eyes snapped open. He didn''t move immediately, his body rigid as he listened. The distant sounds of his Horde sleeping surrounded him, their snores and grunts blending into the night''s natural symphony. Yet above it all, there was something else. A flutter. A faint, rhythmic sound carried by the breeze, so soft it almost blended with the rustle of leaves. Slowly, Volk sat up, his movements deliberate and silent. His gaze shifted to the treetops, scanning the darkness. The night sky stretched above him, speckled with stars, but something moved among them. Shadows danced against the moonlight, obscured by the thick canopy. He rose to his feet, his boots pressing soundlessly into the ground. His hand instinctively reached for his blade, though he didn''t unsheathe it. Instead, he stepped away from the slumbering Horde, his head tilting toward the sky. The wind whispered again, this time colder, and Volk''s sharp eyes caught it¡ªa fleeting shape cutting through the clouds. "A bird?" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. But no ordinary bird could stir the air like this. No ordinary bird could carry this weight in its presence. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze piercing through the shadows as another shape emerged. The faint glint of moonlight reflected off feathers, massive wings cutting through the sky with a grace that seemed almost supernatural. Volk''s breath hitched as he took a step forward, his boots crunching against a stray twig. The sound seemed deafening in the quiet night, but the bird didn''t react. It was too high, circling above the forest like a silent predator. He followed its movements, his neck craning as it dipped and rose, its silhouette blending seamlessly with the clouds. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed more. Another shape. And another. "How many...?" Volk whispered, his voice trailing off. The birds weren''t just circling. They were searching. Their movements were too precise, too calculated. The air grew heavier as realization struck him¡ªthese were no ordinary creatures. The largest bird swooped low for a moment, just enough for Volk to catch a glimpse of its piercing, glowing eyes. His stomach twisted. Those weren''t the eyes of a beast. They were intelligent, calculating. He took another step forward, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. The wind picked up again, swirling around him, carrying the sound of feathers cutting through the air. It was deafening now, a constant rhythm that seemed to echo in his chest. "Another sky people?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze sharpened, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. The largest bird tilted its wings, shifting direction as it dipped lower. For a fleeting moment, Volk saw it clearly. Its feathers were dark, almost black, with faint patterns that shimmered like silver under the moonlight. Its beak was curved and sharp, and its talons glinted like forged steel. But it wasn''t just a bird. It couldn''t be. There was something humanoid in its shape, the way its head turned as if scanning the ground below. The realization hit Volk like a blow to the chest. "Owl people?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of wings slicing through the air. The thought settled heavily in his mind, his instincts screaming at him to prepare. These creatures weren''t here by coincidence. They were searching for something¡ªor someone. Volk''s jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving the sky as the largest bird let out a low, haunting cry. It echoed through the forest, chilling in its resonance, and Volk''s hand tightened on his sword. He didn''t know what they were after, but he was certain of one thing. They were a threat. Chapter 321 - 321: Wake up! Volk''s eyes narrowed as the unsettling presence of the winged figures above continued to stir the unease in his chest. The faint, rhythmic sound of beating wings grew louder, drilling into his ears. His jaw clenched, and he turned abruptly toward his Horde. "GET UP!" Volk''s voice roared through the night like a crashing thunderclap, reverberating off the trees. The sharpness of his tone shattered the stillness, cutting through the snores and groans of his slumbering warriors. "WAKE UP, YOU SLOTHFUL DOGS! GET TO YOUR FEET RIGHT NOW!" Some stirred sluggishly, rolling over on the uneven ground, groaning as if swatting away an imagined fly. Others blinked groggily, their eyes barely open, uncomprehending. Volk''s patience, already thin, snapped further. "I SAID WAKE UP!" His voice was raw with fury, loud enough to rattle the loose stones on the forest floor. He stomped forward, kicking at a nearby ogre who remained sprawled on the ground. "You think you can sleep through this? YOU THINK THIS IS THE TIME FOR DREAMING? DO YOU WANT TO DIE WHERE YOU LIE? GET UP! NOW!" A few members of the Horde scrambled to their feet, their movements jerky and uncoordinated. Weapons clanged as they fumbled for their gear, still half-asleep and confused. "MOVE!" Volk snarled, his crimson eyes flaring in the darkness. "THIS IS NOT A DRILL! THIS IS NOT A DREAM! THERE''S SOMETHING OUT THERE, CIRCLING ABOVE US! YOU''D BEST BE READY, OR YOU''LL BE THE FIRST TO FALL!" Nearby, an orc yawned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Volk stalked over, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him upright. "DID YOU NOT HEAR ME, YOU LUMBERING FOOL? OR DO YOU NEED ME TO SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU? GET. UP. NOW!" A commotion began to ripple through the camp. Some members of the Horde scrambled in panic, tripping over themselves as they rushed to grab their weapons and armor. Others moved more calmly, their faces stoic as they checked their gear with practiced efficiency. Volk''s voice rose above the chaos, a relentless storm of commands. "YOU! GRAB YOUR SPEAR AND CHECK THE PERIMETER! YOU THERE, GET THE TORCHES LIT! I WANT LIGHT¡ªBRIGHT ENOUGH TO BURN OUT THE STARS!" A goblin scurried past, clutching a shield almost too large for its frame. Volk bellowed at him, his voice like the crack of a whip. "DON''T JUST RUN IN CIRCLES, YOU PATHETIC WHELP! TAKE YOUR POSITION! EVERYONE¡ªFORM RANKS! I WANT DISCIPLINE, NOT THIS SLOPPY CHAOS!" Despite his fury, some of the Horde remained oblivious, still curled up and snoring loudly. Volk''s eyes narrowed dangerously as he marched over to the worst offenders. "YOU DARE TO SLEEP WHILE THE ENEMY CIRCLES ABOVE?!" he roared, kicking over a makeshift bedding pile. The ogre sleeping there jerked awake, his eyes wide with confusion. "I''LL TEAR YOUR DREAMS APART IF YOU DON''T STAND UP THIS INSTANT! MOVE, OR I''LL DRAG YOU TO YOUR FEET MYSELF!" A goblin muttered something incoherent in its sleep, rolling over to face away from Volk. His patience snapped entirely. He grabbed a nearby helmet and hurled it at the offending goblin''s head. CLANG! The sound rang out, and the goblin shot upright with a yelp, clutching its skull. "YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?" Volk shouted, his voice seething with rage. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP, ALL OF YOU! I''LL NOT HAVE MY HORDE CAUGHT UNAWARES BECAUSE OF YOUR LAZINESS!" Finally, the entire Horde began to stir. Some were still sluggish, rubbing their eyes as they staggered to their feet. Others, more alert, snapped into formation, their weapons gleaming in the flickering torchlight. "DO YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?" Volk continued, pacing through the camp like a raging storm. "OUT THERE, IN THE SKY, SOMETHING WATCHES US! SOMETHING HUNTS US! YOU THINK IT WILL WAIT FOR YOU TO ROLL OUT OF BED AND RUB THE SLEEP FROM YOUR EYES? YOU''D BEST BE READY, OR YOU''LL BE NOTHING MORE THAN A MEAL FOR WHATEVER''S OUT THERE!" An orc, still dazed, dropped his shield as he scrambled to strap on his armor. Volk rounded on him immediately. "PICK THAT UP! NOW! IF YOU CAN''T HOLD YOUR WEAPON, YOU''RE BETTER OFF DIGGING YOUR OWN GRAVE!" He turned to address the entire Horde, his voice booming over the din. "THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING! BE READY, OR BE DEAD! I WON''T TOLERATE WEAKNESS, AND NEITHER WILL THE ENEMY!" The Horde was finally beginning to organize, their movements more coordinated as they formed ranks and checked their weapons. But Volk wasn''t done. He continued to shout, his voice a relentless hammer driving nails into their ears. "EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU WILL BE READY!" he bellowed. "IF I SEE ONE MORE OF YOU LAGGING BEHIND, YOU''LL ANSWER TO ME PERSONALLY! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A chorus of hurried affirmations rose from the Horde, their voices a mix of fear and determination. "I CAN''T HEAR YOU!" Volk roared. "LOUDER!" "YES, CHIEF!" they shouted, their voices echoing through the forest. Satisfied but still bristling with tension, Volk stalked back to the center of the camp. His crimson eyes flicked to the sky, scanning for any sign of the figures that had been circling above. The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the faint, ominous sound of wings. He turned back to his Horde, his voice low but no less commanding. "Stay sharp. Stay alive. Whatever''s out there, we''ll face it together. But make no mistake¡ªthere''s no room for mistakes. Not tonight." Meanwhile, the formation was completed, and the Horde stood in uneasy silence, the atmosphere tense and charged as the wind picked up, rustling the leaves of the trees around them. The once comforting darkness of the night now felt oppressive, the flickering torchlight casting dancing shadows on the ground. Some warriors shifted uneasily on their feet, clutching their weapons tighter as a feeling of being watched crept over them like a predator stalking prey. It was subtle at first¡ªa flicker in the corner of a goblin''s vision, a darting shadow against the treetops. A low murmur began to ripple through the group. "Did you see that?" one goblin whispered, his voice trembling as his wide eyes scanned the canopy above. An orc snarled, baring his teeth as he glared at the nervous goblin. "Quiet, runt! You''ll scare yourself to death before anything comes for you." Yet, even as he spoke, his grip on his axe tightened, his eyes darting upward. The torches seemed dimmer now, their light failing to reach the heights of the trees or the cloudy sky above. Something was wrong. The darkness was no longer still; it seemed alive, shifting and swirling like a living thing. And then they saw it¡ªa fleeting shadow, moving too fast to pinpoint. "There! Did you see that?" another goblin hissed, pointing upward with a shaking finger. "Shut it!" an ogre growled, his deep voice carrying authority. But even he couldn''t hide the unease in his tone. His eyes, usually filled with confidence, flickered with uncertainty as he scanned the heavens. More shadows appeared, darting between the treetops, blending into the inky blackness. They weren''t shapes the Horde could easily describe¡ªwinged figures, gliding silently through the night, their outlines blurring with the movement of the clouds. "They''re circling us," a goblin whispered, barely audible over the sound of the wind. The observation sent a ripple of fear through the group. Whispers turned to murmurs, and murmurs grew into a low rumble of unease. The Horde was a force to be reckoned with on the ground, but the skies were unfamiliar, unreachable. The thought of an enemy above, unseen and untouchable, set their nerves on edge. "What are they waiting for?" an orc muttered, his voice a growl of frustration. He swung his axe experimentally, as though trying to dispel the feeling of helplessness. "Could be scouts," another warrior said, his tone grim. "Could be sizing us up." The shadows grew bolder, swooping lower now, their silhouettes just barely visible against the faint light of the clouds. A goblin yelped and ducked as one passed overhead, its wingspan wide and imposing. "They''re watching us," one goblin whimpered, clutching his spear so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "They''re hunting us." "Enough!" the ogre barked, his deep voice cutting through the growing panic. "Hold your ground! They''re just birds¡ªnothing we can''t handle!" Yet, even as he spoke, his eyes flicked nervously to the sky. The shadows above weren''t just birds. They were too coordinated, too purposeful in their movements. Whatever they were, they were waiting for something. The Horde''s unity began to falter as the sense of vulnerability settled over them. The ground warriors were accustomed to combat against things they could see and strike. This¡­ this was different. The enemy above moved in the shadows, unseen and unreachable, their presence a constant reminder of the Horde''s limitations. "They''re testing us," an older goblin murmured, his voice low and grim. "Waiting to see if we''ll break." But they wouldn''t break. Not with Volk among them. As the Horde shifted uneasily, their gazes drifted toward their leader. His crimson eyes burned in the dark, scanning the skies with an intensity that seemed to pierce the night itself. His presence was like an anchor, a reminder that even in the face of the unknown, they had a leader who would guide them through. Still, the shadows continued to circle, their movements a silent mockery of the Horde''s helplessness. Every warrior''s eyes were on the skies now, weapons ready, hearts pounding. Soon enough, a shadow from the sky slowly fluttered down. Chapter 322 - 322: Be prepared The wind stilled for a moment, the oppressive tension giving way to an eerie silence. Every warrior in the Horde froze as a figure descended from the sky, its massive wings beating against the air with a deep, rhythmic whoosh. The torches flickered violently as the creature landed gracefully on the edge of their gathering, its talons gripping the rocky ground with unnerving precision. It was unlike anything they had seen before. The being stood tall, its humanoid frame clad in sleek, feathered armor that shimmered faintly in the torchlight. Its face was distinctly owl-like, with large, piercing eyes that seemed to see through flesh and bone. A hooked beak glinted under the faint light, curved in what might have been a mocking smirk. Its plumage was a mix of silvery grays and blacks, blending perfectly with the night, and its wings, now folded against its back, radiated an aura of quiet power. The Horde tensed. Weapons were drawn, claws flexed, and the goblins held their breath as the owl-being surveyed them with a mixture of disdain and amusement. "Interesting," the figure began, its voice smooth and lilting, dripping with condescension. "An orc, ogres, and goblins¡­ all marching under one banner. Such a curious sight. I must say, your preparedness is¡­ commendable." The Horde bristled at the mocking edge in his tone, but no one dared to act without Volk''s word. The owl-being''s eyes swept across the assembled warriors, lingering briefly on the ogres'' hulking forms before settling on the smaller, scrappy goblins. It tilted its head to the side, as though studying a peculiar insect. "How quaint," it continued, taking a step forward. Its talons scraped against the ground, sending a shrill skreee through the tense air. "To think that such a rabble could stand together, let alone face what lurks above." S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. A low growl rumbled through the Horde, but it was Volk who stepped forward, his crimson eyes blazing. The owl-being''s gaze snapped to him instantly, and something in its demeanor shifted. The smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a flicker of irritation. Then, just as quickly, the mocking grin returned. "And there he is," the owl-being said, spreading its wings slightly, as if to emphasize its dominance. "The leader of this little band of misfits." It let out a soft chuckle, a sound that sent chills through the Horde. "I must admit, I didn''t mean to startle your¡­ charming group. Nor do I come with any grand intention to oppose you. But you¡­" It jabbed a taloned finger in Volk''s direction. Volk narrowed his eyes but said nothing, his stance steady and unyielding. "There''s something about your existence," the owl-being continued, its tone shifting to one of disdain. "It irritates me. That face of yours. That presence. It''s¡­ how shall I put it? An offense to my senses." The Horde shifted uneasily. The goblins exchanged nervous glances, and even the ogres glanced at each other, their usual confidence shaken. Volk stood unmoving, his gaze locked on the creature before him. The owl-being tilted its head again, the mocking smirk growing wider. "Perhaps taking your life would be enough to rid me of this irritation. A simple act of cleansing. Yes¡­ I think that would do nicely." It spread its wings suddenly, the motion sending a powerful gust of wind through the camp. Several goblins staggered backward, shielding their faces from the blast. "But don''t look so worried," the owl-being said with a laugh, its voice echoing through the night like the cry of a predator. "I''ll give you time to prepare. Consider this my generosity." It flapped its wings once, lifting itself off the ground in a smooth, effortless motion. The Horde tensed, some raising their weapons instinctively, but the owl-being only hovered above them, its piercing gaze sweeping over the group one last time. "Oh, and one more thing," it called out, its tone dripping with mockery. "Try not to embarrass yourselves too much. It would be such a shame for all this effort to amount to nothing." With that, the creature threw its head back and let out a mocking laugh, the sound echoing into the night as it soared higher into the sky. Its silhouette disappeared into the clouds, leaving only the faint rustle of its wings and the lingering sting of its words. The Horde stood in stunned silence, their breaths uneven, their grips tightening on their weapons. For a moment, no one spoke. All eyes turned to Volk, waiting for his command, for his reaction. But Volk stood still, his crimson eyes fixed on the sky where the owl-being had vanished. The camp was quiet. The tension from the owl-being''s departure had settled into a tense buzz among the Horde. Though the warriors were prepared, their weapons sharp and their formations disciplined, the night itself began to shift. At first, it was subtle¡ªso faint that it barely registered to most. The wind, which had been steadily brushing against their skin, rustling the sparse foliage, and carrying the faint smells of earth and battle, began to lose its presence. The change was so gradual that it seemed almost natural. A gust that would have once brushed past an ogre''s face slowed into a mere breath. The goblins, ever sensitive to their environment, tilted their heads in confusion. One even muttered, "Strange¡­ it''s too still." But their murmurs were drowned out by the disciplined clinking of armor as they checked and rechecked their equipment. Volk stood at the center of the camp, his crimson eyes scanning the horizon. The eerie silence clawed at his senses. It wasn''t just the absence of wind. The night itself seemed to grow heavier, oppressive, and unnatural. The usual sounds of nocturnal creatures¡ªthe chirps of insects, the occasional rustle of hidden animals¡ªfaded into an eerie void. It was as if the world around them was holding its breath. The goblins were the first to truly notice the change. They looked to one another, their large eyes darting about nervously. One tugged at the hem of another''s tunic and whispered, "Do you feel that?" "Feel what?" the second goblin replied, though his voice was barely audible. "The air," the first one said, voice trembling. "It''s¡­ wrong." Even the ogres, typically unconcerned with subtleties, began to shift uneasily. One of the larger ones grunted, his deep voice breaking the stillness, "Feels¡­ empty." Volk''s gaze sharpened. His instincts, honed through countless battles and encounters, screamed at him to pay attention. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the air around him. The wind that had once danced around his skin was gone, replaced by a hollow, static stillness. Even his breath seemed to hang heavier in his chest, as though the atmosphere itself was thickening. "Leader," one of the orcs called out hesitantly, breaking through the silence. "Something''s not right." Volk turned, his expression grim. "I know." His voice was firm, but within, a gnawing unease took hold. He raised a hand to silence the growing murmurs of his Horde. The goblins clustered together, their small forms trembling slightly. One of the younger ones clung to a nearby ogre''s leg, seeking some semblance of safety. The ogre, for once, didn''t brush the goblin off. Instead, he stared into the distance, his usual bravado replaced with a quiet apprehension. The stillness grew more pronounced. The faintest echoes of sound¡ªthe scrape of metal, the shifting of armor¡ªfelt deafening against the eerie quiet. The air, once alive with the vibrancy of nature, felt stagnant. It pressed against their skin like an invisible weight. A goblin dropped his spear accidentally, the clatter reverberating like thunder in the unnaturally silent night. Everyone turned to the source, their eyes wide with tension, as though the sound itself had drawn the attention of something unseen. Volk''s jaw tightened. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. The realization struck him like a hammer blow. This wasn''t a natural stillness. It was deliberate. It was the kind of quiet that preceded an ambush, the moment of calm before a storm. The Horde felt it too. Their uneasy shuffling slowed to a standstill as the oppressive atmosphere settled over them. Their instincts, sharpened from years of survival and battle, screamed at them to be ready. The goblins gripped their weapons tightly, their knuckles white. The orcs and ogres squared their shoulders, their eyes darting to Volk for guidance. A low whistle from one of the orcs broke the silence. "The wind," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Where''s the wind?" Volk''s crimson eyes narrowed. The realization hit him fully now. The wind wasn''t just absent¡ªit was stolen. The air had been claimed by something. His thoughts raced. This couldn''t be a coincidence. The owl-being''s earlier visit, the eerie stillness¡­ it all felt connected. He turned to face his Horde, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. "This isn''t natural," he said, his tone sharp and commanding. "Something is here." The Horde braced themselves, their formations tightening instinctively. Even the goblins, who had been cowering moments ago, straightened their backs. Volk tilted his head to the sky, his eyes scanning the dark expanse above. The clouds hung low, their edges faintly illuminated by the moonlight, but nothing moved. Not a single bird, not even the faintest shadow of a predator. The silence felt deafening now, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Then he saw it¡ªa faint, flickering movement far above, hidden within the swirling clouds. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Volk''s sharp eyes caught it. His heart quickened. "Be prepared!" Volk''s voice erupted, shattering the fragile stillness. It echoed through the camp, his powerful command cutting through the tension like a war drum. Some of the Horde jumped at his sudden shout, their nerves already frayed. The ogres and orcs immediately drew their weapons, their eyes scanning the darkness. The goblins huddled closer together, their small frames shaking but their weapons ready. "Get up!" Volk bellowed again, his voice rising to a roar. "Form ranks! This isn''t a drill! I want every single one of you ready for battle!" The Horde scrambled to obey. Weapons were drawn, armor adjusted, and formations snapped into place. The goblins scurried to the edges, their bows and daggers at the ready. The orcs and ogres formed a solid wall of muscle and steel at the front, their eyes blazing with determination. Volk''s gaze returned to the sky. The faint flicker of movement was gone, swallowed by the oppressive darkness. But he knew better than to trust the silence. Something was coming. Chapter 323 - 323: Sky become ours The air exploded with movement as the owl people swooped down from the heavens, their wings slicing through the stillness. They moved with precision and arrogance, their mocking laughter echoing through the camp like a chorus of disdainful crows. "You fools!" one of the owl people cried, his voice sharp and high-pitched, carried effortlessly by the thinning wind. "You think your crude weapons and lumbering forms can match us in the skies? Stay grounded, where you belong!" Another swooped lower, his sharp talons grazing dangerously close to the heads of the goblins. "Pathetic!" he sneered, pulling up sharply into the air and performing a taunting loop. "You''ll never touch us!" The Horde bristled under the verbal barrage, their grips tightening on their weapons. Volk, however, stood calmly in the center of the chaos, his crimson eyes following the owl people''s every move. A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The owl people, emboldened by their perceived superiority, grew bolder. One lingered in mid-air, his wings flapping leisurely as he hovered over the Horde. His eyes gleamed with smug amusement as he surveyed the orcs, ogres, and goblins below. "Look at you all," he mocked, his voice dripping with contempt. "Grounded beasts, clawing at the sky! You¡ª" His words cut off abruptly. A shadow flickered behind him, subtle and swift, moving in the moonlight''s glow. His sharp eyes caught it a fraction too late. BAM! The impact sent him spiraling through the air, his wings flailing uselessly as he plummeted downward. His mind reeled from the force of the blow, stars exploding in his vision. He tried to process what had happened, but his body hit the ground with a sickening thud before he could comprehend. Dazed, his gaze flickered upward. Through the haze of pain and confusion, he saw it¡ªa massive form soaring in the moonlight, its shadowy outline unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat. "An¡­ Orc?" he muttered weakly, his vision fading. It couldn''t be. Orcs didn''t fly. That was their domain, their birthright as masters of the skies. Yet, as the darkness claimed him, the last thing he saw was the impossible¡ªa hulking orc, his body clad in the makeshift contraptions forged by goblin ingenuity, gliding through the air like a predator reclaiming its place in the food chain. ¡­ The battlefield fell into stunned silence as the owl people hovered in midair, their mocking confidence shattered. The sight before them was beyond comprehension. Orcs¡ªthose hulking, land-bound brutes¡ªwere now defying the natural order. They were flying. Not leaping, not climbing, but soaring. One owl man, his silvery feathers shimmering in the moonlight, blinked in disbelief. "How is this¡­ possible?" His voice trembled, his keen eyes narrowing as he tracked the hulking figure of an orc gliding through the air, his outstretched arms controlling the rudimentary wings attached to his back. "This is a trick!" another owl man spat, his wings beating furiously as he flew higher, trying to gain distance. "An illusion to scare us. Orcs don''t¡ªcan''t¡ªfly!" But the evidence was undeniable. One after another, the Horde took to the skies, their crude but effective gear carrying them upward. It wasn''t graceful at first; the goblins wobbled in their harnesses, ogres flapped oversized contraptions that creaked with each movement, and some orcs barely missed crashing into each other. Yet, they flew. Below, Volk stood with a commanding presence, his sharp gaze locked on the owl people above. "Horde!" he bellowed, his voice booming across the chaotic field. "Take to the skies! Make them regret thinking they owned the air. Show them that even their domain can be conquered!" His words struck like lightning, and the Horde erupted with cheers, their confidence soaring as they leapt into action. One by one, the Horde rose, their movements gaining stability with every passing second. The goblins, despite their small frames, maneuvered quickly, their contraptions zipping around like darting insects. The orcs powered their wings with brute strength, propelling themselves upward with every mighty flap. The ogres, slow but terrifying, gained height with heavy beats, their massive frames looming like airborne siege engines. The owl people watched in disbelief, their confident smirks replaced by stunned stares. "This¡­ this can''t be happening!" one of them shrieked, dodging clumsily as a goblin shot past him, cackling with glee. "Orcs can''t fly!" another shouted, narrowly avoiding an ogre who barreled through the air like a boulder hurled by a giant. Their confusion turned to panic as the Horde swarmed them, laughing and taunting as they closed the distance. A goblin zipped in front of an owl man, sticking out his tongue. "Not so tough now, are ya?" he jeered before flipping upside down and darting away. An orc barreled past, his laughter booming. "This your sky? Looks like our sky now!" The owl people''s arrogance crumbled as the Horde pressed their advantage. The air became a chaotic battleground, filled with the flapping of wings, the creak of makeshift gears, and the triumphant roars of the Horde. Volk, still grounded, observed the battle with a calculating gaze. His crimson eyes tracked every movement, noting the flaws in both his Horde''s attacks and the owl people''s panicked defenses. His mind worked rapidly, identifying openings and opportunities. "Don''t let them regroup!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Use their confusion. Push them apart. Make them scatter!" The Horde responded with fervor, their attacks growing more coordinated. A group of goblins surrounded an owl man, their smaller frames darting in and out like wasps, jabbing at him with sharpened spears. The owl man''s cries of frustration filled the air as he flailed, unable to keep up with their erratic movements. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. An ogre caught an owl man by surprise, his massive frame crashing into him like a battering ram. The owl man spiraled downward, his wings struggling to regain balance as the ogre bellowed a triumphant roar. Despite their initial confusion, the owl people tried to regroup. Their leader, a broad-winged figure with feathers like burnished gold, called out commands. "Form up! Use the wind currents to your advantage! Don''t let them outmaneuver us!" But it was too late. The Horde had fully adapted to their newfound wings, their laughter growing louder as they overwhelmed their airborne foes. Volk smirked, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Now, now," he murmured to himself, his voice carrying a dark amusement. "They thought themselves untouchable. Let''s see how they handle being humbled." Raising his voice again, he called out, "Horde! Slow down! No need to end this too quickly." The fighters paused, glancing toward him mid-battle. Volk''s expression was sharp, his tone dripping with authority. "Spare them for now. They''re no longer opponents. They''re practice targets. Make them earn their defeat." The Horde roared with approval, their laughter echoing through the skies as they pulled back slightly, their movements becoming more deliberate. One goblin cackled as he poked at an owl man''s wings with a stick. "Not so high and mighty now, huh?" he teased, zipping out of reach before the owl man could retaliate. An orc grinned as he circled an owl woman, his broad shoulders blocking her attempts to escape. "What''s wrong? You were laughing a moment ago!" The owl people''s leader, still trying to rally his troops, glared down at Volk, his golden eyes blazing with fury. But even he couldn''t deny the truth. The sky, their sacred domain, was no longer theirs. Volk stood below, arms crossed, his crimson eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as he observed the humbled owl people fluttering around in disarray. Their once-mighty arrogance had crumbled into desperation and fear. The Horde now controlled the skies, and the owl people''s sacred dominion had been thoroughly violated. But Volk wasn''t done yet. His sharp gaze swept across the battlefield, calculating his next move. The Owl people''s confusion wasn''t enough¡ªhe needed to cement this humiliation, to make sure they never underestimated the Horde again. He raised his voice, a commanding roar that silenced even the chaotic winds. "Release the ogres!" The Horde paused, momentarily stunned by the command. A murmur rippled through them, and the goblins exchanged glances, their excitement evident. Slowly, the enormous ogres, who had thus far been hovering at the fringes of the battle, stepped forward. Their massive frames cast shadows over the entire battlefield as their crude flying contraptions creaked ominously. The owl people, still scrambling to regroup, froze mid-flight. Their sharp eyes widened in horror as they turned to face the incoming behemoths. The ogres, with their gigantic wings strapped to their backs, looked impossibly menacing, their muscular forms barely constrained by the crude gear that kept them aloft. "W-what are those?" one owl man stammered, his voice trembling. "Impossible!" another gasped, his feathers bristling. "How can something that massive fly?!" The golden-feathered leader''s jaw tightened as he stared at the ogres, his wings twitching nervously. He had seen many things in his life, but this defied logic. "This¡­ this isn''t natural¡­" With a deep, guttural roar, the ogres leapt into the air, their enormous wings beating with a sound like thunderclaps. The air itself seemed to vibrate as they ascended, their hulking forms defying all expectations. Each movement was raw power incarnate, a blend of brute strength and relentless will. The owl people scattered in panic, their formations breaking apart as the ogres barreled toward them. One owl man screamed as an ogre flew directly in front of him, the sheer size of the creature casting him in shadow. The ogre grinned wickedly, his massive hand reaching out as if to swat the smaller figure from the sky. "Is this the best you''ve got?" the ogre bellowed, his voice a booming echo. "You think your little wings can save you from me?" The owl man flapped furiously, narrowly dodging the ogre''s grasp. But the effort was futile¡ªno matter how fast he moved, the ogres closed the distance with terrifying ease. Another ogre, with a makeshift helmet barely clinging to his enormous head, flew directly at a group of owl people, his massive wings stirring the air into a vortex. "Run, little birds!" he taunted, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. The owl people''s fear reached a fever pitch. They had always seen themselves as the masters of the skies, untouchable and dominant. But now, they were being hunted, their superiority turned into a cruel joke. From below, Volk smirked, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. "That''s right," he muttered to himself, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Let them feel it. Let them know that their domain is no longer theirs." Raising his voice again, he called out to the Horde. "Horde! Show them what true power looks like! Remind them that no matter how high they fly, there''s always someone who can bring them down!" The Horde roared in response, their laughter mingling with the cries of the owl people. The ogres, emboldened by Volk''s words, became even more relentless. One ogre barreled past a terrified owl man, his massive frame causing the smaller figure to spin uncontrollably in his wake. The ogre laughed, his deep voice reverberating through the air. "What''s wrong? Can''t handle a little turbulence?" Another ogre hovered menacingly in front of an owl woman, his enormous fists clenched. "Go ahead," he sneered. "Fly away. See if you can escape me." The owl woman''s wings faltered, her eyes darting around in search of an escape. But there was none. The ogres were everywhere, their massive forms dominating the skies. Volk watched it all unfold, his smirk growing wider. The owl people''s terror was palpable, their once-proud demeanor shattered beyond repair. From above, the golden-feathered leader gritted his teeth, his sharp eyes narrowing as he surveyed the chaos. His pride burned like fire, but even he couldn''t deny the truth. The skies no longer belonged to the owl people. And below, Volk stood triumphant, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "This is just the beginning," he declared, his tone cold and commanding. "Today, the sky becomes ours!" Chapter 324 - 324: Sky Torture The battle raged in the skies as Volk''s Horde relentlessly pursued the owl people. One by one, their majestic forms descended, driven down not by injury alone but by fear and exhaustion. At first, the owl people tried to resist, clinging to the last shreds of their pride. They flapped their powerful wings with desperate determination, diving and weaving in intricate patterns to evade the Horde''s relentless onslaught. But it was no use. The Horde, with their crude yet effective flying contraptions, had turned the skies into a battlefield where cunning and sheer tenacity outmatched elegance and tradition. The owl people''s aerial grace, once unrivaled, now seemed inadequate against the unrelenting pressure of their foes. Each time one attempted to ascend higher, an ogre or a goblin would rise to meet them. Each time they regrouped to strategize, a shadow would pass over them¡ªa hulking ogre or an agile goblin swooping down to scatter them once more. The goblins were relentless, darting around with surprising agility, their strange new gadgets keeping them aloft. They cackled gleefully as they swooped in and out of formations, their crude weapons glinting in the moonlight. "Down you go!" one goblin shouted, flinging a weighted net at an owl man. The net tangled in the owl''s wings, sending him spiraling to the ground with a panicked squawk. The ogres, on the other hand, were blunt instruments of terror. They didn''t need speed or finesse. Their sheer size and strength were enough to unnerve even the bravest of the owl people. One ogre grinned wickedly as he grabbed an owl man mid-flight, holding him up as if he weighed nothing. "Think you''re so high and mighty, huh?" the ogre taunted before flinging the owl man downward like a ragdoll. The owl people began to falter. Their formations broke apart, their once-unified flight patterns devolving into chaotic, desperate attempts to evade capture. The golden-feathered leader shouted commands, his voice sharp and commanding, but his words were drowned out by the cacophony of battle. Volk watched from below, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. His Horde was winning¡ªnot just the fight, but the psychological battle as well. The owl people, once so proud and untouchable, were now grounded in every sense of the word. "Keep pushing!" Volk roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "Break their will! Show them that no one¡ªno one¡ªcan stand above the Horde!" The Horde roared in response, their voices a thunderous chorus of triumph. They surged forward with renewed vigor, their crude flying contraptions buzzing and creaking as they pursued the owl people relentlessly. One by one, the owl people fell. Some landed hard, their wings crumpled beneath them. Others managed to glide down more gracefully, their expressions etched with defeat. The golden-feathered leader, still aloft, watched in growing horror as his people were brought low. Below, Volk crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "Look at them," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Once kings of the sky, now groveling in the dirt." The golden-feathered leader hovered above the fray, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. He gritted his teeth, his talons clenched tightly. "Cowards!" he bellowed at his people. "Stand and fight!" But his words fell on deaf ears. A young owl woman landed nearby, her wings trembling as she folded them against her body. She looked up at the leader, her eyes filled with shame. "We can''t¡­ We can''t fight them," she whispered. "They''re¡­ unstoppable." The leader''s jaw tightened, his feathers bristling with frustration. He refused to accept this outcome. "Fools!" he shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. "We are the masters of the sky! We cannot¡ª" "Can''t you?" Volk''s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. The golden leader snapped his gaze downward, his eyes locking onto Volk''s. The orc stood tall, his presence commanding even from the ground. "Face it, birdman," Volk said, his tone dripping with disdain. "Your sky isn''t yours anymore." S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The leader''s feathers fluffed in anger, but before he could respond, another cry echoed from above. "Leader! It''s no use!" Another owl man descended, his wings flapping weakly. "They''re¡­ they''re too much. We can''t hold them off!" The golden-feathered leader''s eyes darted between his people and the encroaching Horde. His pride warred with the reality before him. Slowly, begrudgingly, he began to descend as well, his wings folding as he landed among his defeated kin. And then, only one remained in the sky¡ªthe golden-feathered leader himself. His wings spread wide, he hovered high above, the last remnant of his people''s once-dominant pride. Volk tilted his head back, his crimson eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Interesting," he murmured. The leader stared down at Volk, his sharp eyes filled with defiance. "You may have bested my people," he called, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "But I will not fall so easily!" Volk chuckled, a low, menacing sound that sent shivers through those who heard it. "Oh, don''t worry," he said, his voice calm but laced with something darker. "I wouldn''t want you to." Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, Volk''s expression shifted. His eyes brightened, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Actually¡­" he said, his voice rising in pitch. "I''ve just had an idea." Volk''s crimson eyes gleamed with mischief as he observed the golden-feathered leader hovering in the sky, defiant yet helpless. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, a grin spreading across his face. His Horde, now fully grounded and gathered, awaited his command, their eager expressions a mix of excitement and curiosity. "Alright, listen up!" Volk bellowed, his booming voice silencing the chatter of the goblins and ogres alike. "I have a plan, but it''s not going to be about swords or flying. No, no. We''re going to¡­ uh, let''s just say, teach this bird a lesson in humility. Grab him!" The Horde erupted into motion. Goblins with their newfound aerial skills darted upward, their movements clumsy but effective. The golden-feathered leader squawked in indignation as he tried to dodge, his wings flapping furiously. But the goblins, grinning wickedly, worked together like a swarm of hornets, corralling him until an ogre leapt impossibly high, his massive hands closing around the leader''s flailing form. The ogre landed with a resounding thud, holding the owl man aloft like a prized trophy. "Got ''im!" the ogre declared, his grin splitting his face. The leader squirmed in the ogre''s grasp, his golden feathers ruffled and his pride thoroughly dented. "Unhand me, you brutes!" he screeched, but his protests fell on deaf ears. Volk smirked, stepping forward and pointing at the golden-feathered leader. "Good! Now, we''re going to play a little game. No weapons, no magic, just¡­ teamwork. Toss him here!" "Toss him?" the ogre repeated, scratching his head. "Yes, toss him! Think of it as practice!" Volk barked. "And don''t let him touch the ground, or you''ll be running laps until your legs fall off!" The ogre grinned, seemingly excited by the new task. With a mighty swing, he launched the golden-feathered leader into the air. The owl man squawked in alarm as he soared upward, his wings flapping uselessly against the momentum. "Catch him!" Volk shouted, pointing at a group of goblins. The goblins, quick to obey, scrambled to position themselves. One goblin leapt into the air, his small hands outstretched. He managed to intercept the owl leader mid-flight, his body jerking from the force of the catch. "Gotcha!" the goblin crowed triumphantly, only to realize he was now falling with the owl man in tow. "Don''t you dare hit the ground!" Volk yelled, his voice carrying a tone of mock seriousness. Another goblin darted forward, leaping into the air to intercept his comrade. With a deft swipe, he batted the owl leader upward, sending him soaring again. The Horde erupted into laughter, their voices mingling with the golden leader''s indignant cries. "What is this madness?!" the owl man screeched, his wings flailing uselessly as he was batted from one goblin to another like a makeshift ball. "It''s training!" Volk declared, crossing his arms and watching with satisfaction. "Now, ogres! Your turn!" An ogre, eager to join in, bounded forward. His massive hand swept upward, swatting the owl leader with surprising precision. The force sent the unfortunate leader flying across the field, where another ogre was already waiting. "Nice hit!" the second ogre said, catching the leader in his giant hands. He tossed him upward, and a nearby group of goblins scrambled to intercept. The game continued, growing more chaotic and hilarious with each passing moment. The owl leader''s protests devolved into incoherent squawks, his pride long since battered into submission. The goblins, always inventive, began adding their own flair to the game. One goblin performed a spinning leap before striking the owl leader with his foot, sending him into a high arc. Another attempted a backflip, though he missed entirely and landed face-first in the dirt. "Keep him in the air!" Volk shouted, his laughter booming across the battlefield. The ogres, not to be outdone, started competing to see who could throw the owl leader the farthest. One particularly enthusiastic ogre launched him so high that for a moment, it seemed he might escape entirely. But a swift-flying goblin intercepted him, flapping his wings madly as he guided the leader back toward the ground. "Impressive catch!" Volk called, nodding in approval. The Horde, despite their rough coordination, were clearly having the time of their lives. Laughter echoed through the field as goblins and ogres alike stumbled, collided, and occasionally missed their target altogether. Even the grim-faced orcs cracked the occasional smile as they watched the spectacle unfold. Volk stood at the center of it all, his arms crossed and his grin wide. "This," he said to himself, "is exactly what we needed. Training and morale-building. I''m a genius." The owl leader, now thoroughly humiliated, could do little more than squawk weakly as he was passed from one member of the Horde to another. His golden feathers were ruffled beyond recognition, and his once-proud demeanor had been replaced with sheer resignation. "Don''t drop him yet!" Volk called out, his voice carrying a mischievous edge. "We''re just getting started!" The Horde roared in agreement, their laughter and cheers blending into a cacophony of joy. Volk watched the scene with a rare moment of unguarded mirth, throwing his head back and laughing until his sides hurt. Chapter 325 - 325: Anything? The golden-feathered owl leader, his once-proud plumage now dull and disheveled, flapped weakly as he hovered just above the ground. His pride was shredded, his dignity long since tossed aside like a forgotten relic. His piercing eyes, once filled with superiority and confidence, now carried a desperate, pleading light as he turned to Volk, who stood at the center of his chaotic Horde like a warlord presiding over a festival. "P-please," the owl leader croaked, his voice cracking with exhaustion and humiliation. "I beg you¡­ this is beneath even the vilest of creatures. Spare me this disgrace!" Volk raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he considered the words. A sly smirk tugged at his lips. "Spare you? Hah! Where was your mercy when you mocked us earlier? Where was your dignity when you threatened my life like some pompous overlord? You didn''t seem to think we deserved any mercy then." The leader flinched, his beak opening as if to retort, but before he could speak, one of the ogres stepped forward. The towering figure, grinning ear to ear, loomed over the owl leader like a mountain casting a shadow over a lonely tree. "This one''s too noisy," the ogre rumbled, his massive hand swatting the owl leader with surprising speed and precision. Thwack! The owl leader squawked in shock as the blow sent him spinning through the air, his wings flailing helplessly. He landed unceremoniously in a heap several feet away, groaning as he struggled to right himself. Before he could recover, a goblin darted forward, his small frame a blur of motion. "My turn!" the goblin cried gleefully, leaping into the air and delivering a swift kick to the owl leader''s side. Bam! The leader let out a pitiful screech as he was sent skidding across the ground, his feathers scattering like autumn leaves. He managed to lift his head, his gaze filled with despair as he looked toward his fallen comrades. The other owl people, who had surrendered earlier and now sat bound and huddled together, watched the scene unfold with wide, horrified eyes. Their regal demeanor was shattered, replaced by an oppressive silence born of sheer fear. They exchanged nervous glances, their talons clutching at the dirt as they tried to shrink into themselves. "This¡­ this isn''t right," one of the bound owl people whispered, his voice trembling. "Our leader¡­ reduced to this¡­?" Another shook his head, his eyes darting between Volk and the ogres. "Did you see that? That beast of an orc just swatted him like a fly! And those goblins¡­ they''re laughing! Laughing while they humiliate him!" Meanwhile, the owl leader was once again lifted into the air, this time by an orc who spun him around by his leg like a toy. "He''s too light!" the orc complained, shaking the leader for emphasis. "How is this guy supposed to be a challenge?" Volk chuckled darkly, stepping forward. "Oh, don''t worry," he said, his vodripping with amusement. "He''s not here to be a challenge anymore. He''s here to be a lesson. A lesson for you, your people, and anyone else who thinks they can look down on my Horde." The owl leader gasped, his wings trembling as he looked up at Volk. "L-leader Volk," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I¡ª" Whack! An ogre''s massive hand sent him tumbling once more, cutting off his words. The Horde burst into laughter, their voices ringing out across the field as the owl leader was batted back and forth like a ragdoll. Goblins scampered around him, occasionally darting in to deliver swift kicks or playful jabs, while the ogres continued to swat him whenever he tried to rise. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "This is what happens," Volk announced, his voice commanding and sharp, "when you underestimate us. When you think my Horde is nothing but a band of savages." He gestured grandly to the chaos around him. "Look at us now! Goblins, ogres, orcs¡ªtogether, we''ve brought down your so-called superior kind. And now?" He laughed, his voice booming. "Now, we''re having fun at your expense." The owl leader groaned as he was batted into the air once more, his body limp as he surrendered to the inevitable. The laughter of the Horde was a cacophony that seemed to echo endlessly, drowning out any shred of resistance he might have had left. From their place on the ground, the surrendered owl people could only watch, their fear deepening with every swat, every laugh, and every declaration of victory from Volk. Their leader, once the pinnacle of pride and power, was now nothing more than a plaything for the Horde. And at the center of it all stood Volk, his grin wide and his laughter unrestrained. "Let this be a lesson!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "To the sky people, to the land people, to anyone who dares cross my Horde¡ªwe are not to be underestimated!" The golden-feathered leader let out one final, weak groan before being swatted once again, the blow sending him sprawling at Volk''s feet. Volk looked down at him, his grin softening slightly. "You know," he said conversationally, "you could''ve avoided all this if you''d just kept your beak shut." The owl leader didn''t respond, his gaze unfocused as he lay crumpled on the ground. "Take him away," Volk commanded, turning to his Horde. "We''re not done with him yet." The battlefield grew eerily silent as Volk''s booming voice echoed, "Next!" His finger jabbed forward, pointing directly at the huddled group of bound owl people. The gesture sent an icy shiver through their already trembling forms, their feathers puffing slightly in involuntary panic. They exchanged horrified glances, their golden eyes wide with fear and disbelief. The leader''s broken form still lay in the dirt nearby, barely conscious, his once-majestic plumage disheveled and stained. The sight of their proud figurehead reduced to a mere plaything had already crushed their spirits, but now, Volk''s command to move on to them felt like the final blow. One of the younger owls, a slender figure with pale gray feathers, began to sob openly, his muffled cries breaking the tense silence. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please, we didn''t mean any harm. We surrender¡­ we¡­" His words trailed off as a larger owl beside him nudged him sharply with a wing, urging him to keep quiet. Volk tilted his head, his piercing gaze sweeping over the group like a predator sizing up prey. He took a deliberate step forward, his heavy boots crunching against the dirt. "What''s this?" he said mockingly, his voice laced with amusement. "You''re scared already? I haven''t even started yet." The Horde around him chuckled darkly, their laughter rumbling like an ominous storm. Goblins hopped from foot to foot in gleeful anticipation, while the ogres crossed their massive arms, their toothy grins promising no mercy. The orcs stood tall, their eyes gleaming with an almost sadistic joy as they waited for Volk''s next move. One of the older owl people, a dignified figure with streaks of white in his feathers, pushed himself forward despite the bonds tying his wings. "Great leader Volk," he began, his voice trembling but still holding a note of formality. "I¡­ we humbly beg for your mercy. We were wrong to oppose you. Please¡­ spare us." Volk raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he considered the plea. He tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Spare you?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery. "Spare you¡­ like you spared us when you swooped down with your superiority? Like you spared us when you threatened to take my life simply because my existence irritated you?" The older owl''s beak opened and closed, but no words came out. His head drooped, his courage faltering under Volk''s scornful gaze. "Thought so," Volk muttered, his smirk widening. "Next!" he barked again, gesturing sharply toward the remaining owl people. The younger owl who had sobbed earlier began to cry again, louder this time. "Please!" he wailed, his voice cracking. "We''ll do anything! Anything you want! Just don''t¡­" His words dissolved into incoherent sobs as he buried his face in his bound wings. The other owl people shifted uncomfortably, their bindings rustling as they tried to comfort the younger one while also shielding themselves from Volk''s intimidating presence. Volk snorted, unimpressed. "Anything, huh?" he repeated, his voice cold and detached. He stepped closer, towering over the group as his shadow loomed ominously over their trembling forms. "Do you even know what ''anything'' means? Or are you just saying it because you''re scared of what happens next?" "P-please," another owl stammered, a female with speckled brown feathers. Her voice quivered as she looked up at Volk, her golden eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "We''ll serve you. We''ll do whatever you command. Just¡­ just don''t hurt us anymore." Volk stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, until one of the ogres broke it with a low chuckle. "They''re so pitiful, boss," the ogre rumbled, his voice thick with amusement. "Are we really gonna waste more time on ''em?" Volk raised a hand, silencing the ogre instantly. His eyes never left the female owl, who flinched under his gaze but didn''t look away. The rest of the owl people began to chime in, their voices overlapping in desperate pleas. "We''ll work for you!" "We''ll teach you our ways!" "We''ll fight for your Horde!" "We''ll do anything! Please, Volk!" The cacophony of begging grew louder, each voice more desperate than the last. Some owls were practically prostrating themselves on the ground, their heads bowed so low their beaks nearly touched the dirt. Others were weeping openly, their once-proud demeanor shattered. Volk finally raised a hand, and the cries of the owl people fell silent almost immediately. His piercing gaze swept over the group, his smirk returning as he slowly repeated their final, collective plea: "Anything?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried an unmistakable weight that made the owl people shudder. The way he drew out the word, letting it hang in the air, sent chills down their spines. "Yes," the older owl said, his voice barely audible as he nodded. "Anything." Volk''s smirk widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "Good," he said, his tone dangerously calm. "Then let''s see just how far your ''anything'' goes." Chapter 326 - 326: Take us to them The tension in the air thickened as Volk, his tone both commanding and curious, asked, "Fly us to the Elven Continent." The owl people exchanged fearful glances, their golden eyes darting between one another. Their feathers bristled, not in defiance, but in panic. The female owl, still trembling from her earlier plea, took a cautious step forward. "W-we can''t¡­" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. Volk''s sharp gaze narrowed as he stepped closer. "Can''t?" he repeated, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Or won''t?" The female flinched but held her ground. "It''s not that we refuse," she said quickly, her words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to explain. "It''s¡­ it''s that we''re not equipped to carry such heavy loads. We''re built for speed, not strength. Carrying even one of you for such a long journey would be¡­" "Impossible?" Volk interjected, his tone mocking yet probing. She nodded hesitantly, her feathers trembling under his scrutiny. "Yes¡­ impossible. But¡­" She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the other owl people as if seeking their silent agreement. "There are¡­ others who can." Volk raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He crossed his arms and tilted his head, his tusks glinting as he grinned. "Others, you say?" The older owl, the one with streaks of white in his feathers, stepped forward. His voice was steadier, though it still carried the weight of caution. "Yes, great leader Volk. There are those among the winged tribes who are built for such tasks. They are the eagle people¡ªstronger, larger, and capable of carrying great weights across vast distances." Volk''s eyes gleamed with intrigue, but his expression darkened as he leaned closer. "And where are these eagle people?" The older owl hesitated, his beak opening and closing as if weighing the consequences of his next words. Finally, he sighed and said, "They reside in the high peaks, far from here. They rarely leave their territory and are¡­ not ones to cooperate easily." Volk''s grin widened, his sharp teeth on full display. "Not ones to cooperate easily, you say? That sounds like a challenge." The owls exchanged nervous glances, their feathers rustling as they shifted uncomfortably. The younger owl from earlier, his pale gray feathers still damp from tears, spoke up timidly, "They''re proud¡­ very proud. Even more than us. If you wish to¡­ to gain their help, you''ll need to prove yourself." Volk let out a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed across the clearing. The Horde, standing behind him, chuckled along, their amusement at the owls'' predicament evident. "Prove myself?" Volk repeated, his tone dripping with amusement. "I think I''ve proven myself enough by not turning all of you into practice dummies." The owl people flinched at his words, their heads bowing lower in submission. Volk''s laughter subsided, and he straightened, his eyes glinting with determination. "Fine," he said, his voice carrying the weight of command. "Take me to the eagle people. Let''s see if their pride can hold up against the Horde of Lyern." The older owl hesitated but nodded. "As you wish, great leader. But¡­ be warned. The eagle people are not just strong. They are cunning, and they do not take kindly to outsiders." Volk smirked, his confidence unwavering. "Good. I wouldn''t have it any other way." The scene ended with the owls reluctantly preparing to guide Volk and his Horde, their fear evident in their every movement as the shadow of their new leader loomed over them. The journey to the mountain peaks was an arduous one, testing the resolve of Volk and his Horde at every step. Though the goblins had crafted ingenious flying machines, their mana reserves were not infinite, and the weight of the orcs, ogres, and other hulking members of the Horde made sustained flight a luxury they could not afford for long stretches. At first, the group attempted to ascend using the machines, gliding between the jagged cliffs and steep inclines. The wind, sharp and biting, tore at their clothes and flesh, forcing them to grit their teeth and push forward. The owl people, serving as reluctant guides, flapped their wings effortlessly above, their movements smooth and practiced. They occasionally glanced back at the struggling Horde, their expressions a mix of pity and concealed smugness. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Keep moving!" Volk bellowed, his voice echoing through the craggy expanse. His fiery gaze swept over his Horde, many of whom were sweating and panting from the effort of scaling the rugged terrain. The ogres grumbled, their massive hands gripping onto rocks that crumbled under their immense weight. One of them slipped, a shower of pebbles tumbling down the slope, and he barely caught himself with a roar of frustration. The goblins, though more nimble, were equally strained. Their small frames shivered in the biting cold, and the effort of carrying the delicate components of their machines weighed heavily on them. Volk himself marched with relentless determination, his broad shoulders cutting through the wind as he led the way. He would occasionally glance at the owl people soaring above, his jaw tightening. They had the audacity to fly leisurely while his Horde struggled, but he bit back his irritation. They were his ticket to the eagle people, and he wouldn''t jeopardize the mission by snapping too soon. As the terrain grew steeper, the flying machines began to sputter and falter. The mana crystals embedded in their cores flickered, their once-bright glow dimming. The goblins managing them began shouting in panic, scrambling to stabilize the devices before they fell apart mid-air. "Land those things now before you crash them!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The goblins obeyed, landing awkwardly on the rocky path. A few of the machines tipped over, spilling their parts onto the ground. One goblin, his face smudged with grease and soot, looked up at Volk with wide, nervous eyes. "W-we need to recharge them, my lord. Without mana, they''re useless!" Volk scowled but nodded. "Then we''ll walk. Pack them up and keep moving!" The Horde groaned collectively but complied. The machines were disassembled and strapped to the backs of the ogres, who grumbled under the added weight but bore it without complaint. The climb became a grueling ordeal. The air grew thinner, making every breath a laborious effort. The wind howled mercilessly, and the rocky path was littered with treacherous loose stones that threatened to send them tumbling into the abyss below. "Watch your footing!" Volk barked as one goblin stumbled, nearly losing his balance. The goblin caught himself and nodded quickly, his face pale. Hours turned into what felt like days as they trudged upward. The sun began to set, casting long shadows over the peaks and painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold. The temperature plummeted further, and the Horde wrapped themselves in whatever cloaks and furs they had brought. The owl people, still gliding above, occasionally called out directions, their voices barely audible over the wind. "This way! The path narrows here¡ªbe careful!" "About time they did something useful," Volk muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from one of the ogres. As night fell, they set up a makeshift camp on a small plateau, the only flat space they could find. Fires were lit, casting flickering shadows against the jagged cliffs. The goblins huddled together for warmth, while the ogres and orcs took turns keeping watch. Volk sat near the largest fire, his sharp eyes scanning the peaks above. The owl people perched nearby, their silhouettes barely visible in the darkness. Volk could hear their soft murmurs, though he couldn''t make out their words. He didn''t care. His mind was focused on the challenge ahead. When dawn broke, the journey resumed. The path grew even narrower, forcing them to move in single file. The cliffs on either side were sheer drops, the kind that made even the bravest warriors swallow hard. The wind seemed to mock them, pulling at their clothes and threatening to unbalance them with every step. "Almost there," one of the owl people called out. Volk clenched his fists, his determination unwavering. "Almost there" wasn''t good enough. They would reach their destination, no matter the cost. By the time they reached the higher peaks, the Horde was exhausted. Even Volk''s indomitable energy seemed slightly dimmed, though he refused to show it. The owl people landed gracefully ahead, gesturing to a towering cliff in the distance. "There," the older owl said, pointing with a feathered hand. "The eagle people make their home on those peaks." Volk stared at the distant cliffs, his eyes narrowing. The journey had been brutal, but they had made it. And now, he thought with a grim smile, it was time to see just how proud these eagle people truly were. Chapter 327 - 327: Unexpected events The towering peaks where the eagle people were said to reside stood before them, a breathtaking yet ominous sight. Craggy cliffs jutted skyward, their edges sharp as blades, and the swirling winds carried an eerie silence. The air was colder now, biting against the skin and chilling the resolve of even the hardiest members of the Horde. Volk, his eyes narrowing, stepped forward with his Horde trailing behind, the exhaustion from their arduous climb barely concealed under their stoic expressions. The owl people landed gracefully on a nearby ledge, their wings folding neatly behind them. Their leader, an older and more imposing figure with feathers that shimmered in the dim light, gestured toward a large plateau. "This is where the eagle people dwell," the leader said, his tone calm and measured. "We have brought you as promised." Volk studied the area. The plateau was barren save for a few scattered boulders and patches of snow. It was eerily quiet. Too quiet. He frowned, his sharp instincts tingling. He turned to the owl leader. "Where are they? You said this was their home." The owl leader''s beak curled into what could only be described as a smirk. "Oh, they were here once," he said cryptically. "But it seems they''ve flown off for now." Volk''s jaw tightened. He felt the tension in his Horde as they murmured amongst themselves, exchanging wary glances. The ogres shifted uneasily, their massive frames casting long shadows in the thin mountain light. The goblins whispered nervously, their small hands clutching the remains of their now-useless flying machines. "You brought us all this way," Volk growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Where. Are. They?" The owl leader spread his wings dramatically, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. "Oh, they are far from here," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "And you¡­ well, you''ve been far too trusting for your own good." Before Volk could respond, a sharp whistle pierced the air. In an instant, the owl people took to the skies, their wings creating powerful gusts that sent snow and dust swirling around the plateau. The sudden movement startled the Horde, who instinctively raised their weapons, though their fatigue and dwindling mana reserves were evident in their sluggish reactions. "What is this?" Volk roared, his voice booming across the cliffs. The owl leader''s mocking laughter echoed above them. "You fools! Did you truly believe we would help you? You''ve depleted your mana reserves, your machines are useless, and you''ve walked right into our trap. This plateau is ours, and here, the wind listens to us." The wind seemed to answer his call, shifting abruptly. A sudden gust nearly knocked several goblins off their feet, and the ogres braced themselves against the onslaught. The Horde''s formation faltered as the owl people dove from the skies, their sharp talons gleaming in the light. "Attack!" Volk bellowed, his command cutting through the chaos. The Horde scrambled to defend themselves, but the situation was dire. The owl people were swift and cunning, weaving through the air with practiced ease. They struck from above, their claws raking against armor and shields before retreating back into the sky. The orcs swung their massive weapons wildly, trying to swat the attackers out of the air, but their heavy blows met only empty space. Volk, his mind racing, observed the battlefield with cold precision. He could see the Horde''s weakness¡ªthe exhaustion from the climb, the lack of mana to power their machines, and the unfamiliarity of fighting against such agile foes in a place where the wind itself seemed to conspire against them. One owl warrior swooped down toward a goblin, who barely had time to raise his shield before being knocked flat. The goblin''s panicked cries echoed as the owl warrior circled back for another attack. Volk''s eyes narrowed, and with a flick of his wrist, he summoned a jagged spear of dark energy. He hurled it with deadly accuracy, striking the owl mid-flight. The creature screeched in pain, spiraling downward before crashing onto the plateau. "Regroup!" Volk commanded, his voice carrying over the howling wind. "Use their arrogance against them!" The Horde struggled to follow his orders, their movements sluggish but determined. The goblins huddled together, using their shields to form a protective barrier. The ogres, despite their size, worked to shield the smaller members of the Horde, their massive frames serving as cover. The owl leader, hovering high above, laughed. "You think you can resist us here? This is our domain! You''re nothing but insects scrambling in the dirt!" Volk''s eyes burned with fury as he turned his gaze upward. "If you think we''ll go down so easily, you''re dead wrong," he growled. The owl people continued their assault, but Volk noticed a pattern in their movements. They were overconfident, taunting and mocking the Horde rather than focusing on efficient attacks. Their laughter and jeers grated against his nerves, but it also revealed their arrogance¡ªa weakness he intended to exploit. As the battle raged on, Volk''s sharp mind worked to turn the tide. He barked orders, instructing the goblins to use the scattered remains of their machines as improvised weapons. The goblins, quick-witted and resourceful, began hurling gears and pipes at the owl people, forcing them to dodge and disrupting their rhythm. The ogres, under Volk''s direction, hurled massive boulders into the air, their sheer size and force making them difficult to avoid. One boulder struck an owl warrior squarely, sending him plummeting to the ground with a sickening thud. The tide began to shift, but the battle was far from over. The owl leader, still circling above, screeched in anger. "You''ll regret defying us, you ground-bound scum!" Volk''s lip curled into a feral grin. "Regret? You''ll wish you''d never crossed me." As the wind howled and the battle raged, Volk''s unyielding determination inspired his Horde. Though the odds were against them, they fought with a fierce resolve, proving that even in the most dire circumstances, they were not to be underestimated. The owl people continued their relentless assault, their laughter echoing across the plateau. Their leader, high above, flapped his massive wings, stirring up powerful gusts that threatened to unsteady the already fatigued Horde. The situation seemed grim. Each member of the Horde struggled to stand their ground, shields raised and weapons gripped tightly, but the odds appeared insurmountable. Then, Volk stepped forward, his shadow looming large in the dim light. His expression was calm, almost too calm for someone supposedly cornered. He raised a hand to quiet the murmuring Horde, his sharp eyes fixed on the circling owl people. "Is that all you''ve got?" Volk''s voice cut through the noise like a blade. The owl leader, his feathers glinting in the faint light, sneered. "Arrogant to the end, aren''t you? Your mana reserves are gone, your machines useless. You''re at our mercy!" Volk tilted his head, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You think you''ve won because we walked up here? Because we didn''t immediately retaliate?" He chuckled darkly, a sound that sent a ripple of unease through both his Horde and the owl people above. The owl warriors paused mid-flight, their confident movements faltering slightly. The leader narrowed his eyes. "What are you playing at, orc?" Volk turned to his Horde, his voice carrying a commanding edge. "You think I''d drag all of us up here without a plan? You think I''d let our mana reserves run dry without preparing for something greater?" He reached down, gripping one of the flying devices that the goblins had worked tirelessly to create. "This isn''t over. In fact¡­" His eyes gleamed dangerously as he glanced back at the owl leader. "It''s just begun." The Horde exchanged puzzled looks, but their confusion turned to awe as Volk pressed a hidden rune on the side of the machine. A soft hum resonated, growing louder and louder until the entire device glowed faintly with stored mana. "Your arrogance blinded you," Volk continued, his voice rising. "You assumed we''d be foolish enough to waste our mana reserves during the climb. But all that mana? It wasn''t used. It was stored." S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The owl leader''s face twisted in disbelief. "Impossible!" Volk didn''t bother responding. He merely raised his arm, activating his own flying device. With a deafening roar, the machine flared to life, and in an instant, Volk shot into the sky, leaving a gust of wind in his wake. The owl warriors gasped, their confident jeers replaced with stunned silence. The Horde below erupted into cheers as they followed their leader''s example. One by one, the goblins, orcs, and ogres activated their devices, the soft hum of stored mana filling the air. And then, they ascended. The sky that had once belonged to the owl people was no longer their exclusive domain. The Horde soared upward, their formation tight and disciplined despite the initial awkwardness of some. Volk took the lead, his figure a blur as he moved with astonishing speed and precision. "Show them the meaning of true battle!" Volk roared, his voice carrying across the heavens. The owl warriors, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, found themselves on the defensive. Their graceful dives and taunting swipes were now met with calculated counterattacks. Goblins flanked them with surprising agility, hurling small but devastating projectiles from midair. Orcs, larger and heavier, used their brute strength to tackle the owl warriors, sending them careening out of formation. And the ogres¡ªmassive, lumbering forces of destruction¡ªwere terrifying in the air. Their movements were less precise, but what they lacked in finesse, they made up for in raw power. One ogre swung a makeshift club, catching an owl warrior mid-flight and sending him crashing into the cliffside with a sickening thud. The owl leader, watching his forces falter, screeched in rage. "How dare you! The sky belongs to us!" "Not anymore!" Volk''s voice rang out as he propelled himself toward the leader. He moved like a shadow, weaving through the chaotic battle with an ease that was almost supernatural. The owl people were no longer taunting or mocking. Panic set in as they realized they were losing control of the fight. Their once-confident movements became erratic, their coordinated strikes devolving into desperate attempts to fend off the Horde. Below, the remaining Horde members who hadn''t yet taken to the sky cheered and shouted encouragement. They watched in awe as their comrades dominated a battlefield that had initially seemed impossible to conquer. Volk grinned as he closed in on the owl leader. "You made one fatal mistake," he said, his voice cold. "You underestimated us." The leader snarled, attempting to dive away, but Volk anticipated the move. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a blast of dark energy toward the owl, clipping his wing and sending him spiraling downward. "Spare them!" Volk bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. "They''re not worth killing yet. Let them be our training tools!" The Horde obeyed with gusto, their laughter filling the air as they swatted the remaining owl warriors back and forth, like prey caught in a predator''s claws. The owl leader, dazed and battered, managed to stabilize his flight, hovering just out of reach. He looked down at his defeated warriors and back at Volk, his expression a mixture of rage and fear. "You''ll regret this, orc," he hissed, his voice trembling. Volk smirked. "You said that before. Look where it got you." The Horde''s laughter grew louder as the owl warriors were thoroughly humbled. And above it all, Volk''s voice rang clear, commanding, and full of triumph. "This is only the beginning. Learn your place in the sky¡ªor be crushed beneath it." Chapter 328 - 328: Lost mountain The sun burned high above the mountain peaks, illuminating a chaotic and humiliating scene for the owl people. The Horde of Volk, now masters of the air, zipped through the sky with their makeshift flying devices, turning what had begun as a desperate battle into a merciless game of humiliation. The once-proud owl warriors, who had boasted of their supremacy in the skies, were now scattered like leaves caught in a tempest. Their wings beat frantically, trying to maintain altitude, but the relentless pursuit of the Horde gave them no chance to regroup. Goblins darted about like wasps, their high-pitched laughter grating in the ears of their enemies. Orcs and ogres, though less agile, made up for their lack of finesse with raw power, smashing into owl warriors mid-flight and sending them spiraling down in undignified tumbles. "Ha! Look at this one flapping like a fish out of water!" a goblin cackled, diving past an owl warrior who was desperately trying to dodge incoming attacks. Another goblin swooped low, tossing a small, crude explosive at an owl''s talons. The blast wasn''t strong enough to cause real harm, but it singed the feathers and caused the owl to screech in frustration. "You think you own the skies? Think again!" Volk hovered in the center of the chaos, watching his Horde unleash their creativity. His sharp eyes tracked every movement, ensuring none of his warriors went too far¡ªthis was a game, not an execution. Still, the amusement in his smirk was impossible to miss. "Ogre Squad!" Volk bellowed, his voice cutting through the laughter and screeches. "Your turn!" The massive ogres, who had been biding their time, roared in excitement. Their flying devices hummed to life, groaning under their sheer weight. The owl people''s eyes widened in horror as the hulking figures launched into the air with surprising speed. One ogre barreled toward an owl warrior, who barely managed to dodge. But before the owl could stabilize, the ogre reached out and grabbed his wing. With a laugh that echoed like thunder, the ogre spun in midair, using the owl like a ragdoll before tossing him toward another ogre. "Catch!" the first ogre shouted, and the second ogre snatched the owl out of the air. "No, no, no, no!" the owl screamed as the ogres played their own version of catch, throwing him back and forth like a ball. Volk watched, his arms crossed, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "And they call themselves rulers of the skies." S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The remaining owl warriors tried to escape the madness, but the goblins were quick to block their paths. "Where do you think you''re going?" one goblin sneered, darting ahead and cutting off an owl''s retreat. The trapped owl turned to flee in another direction, only to find himself surrounded by orcs. One of the orcs grinned, swinging a massive club lazily. "You wanted a fight in the skies, didn''t you? Don''t quit now." As the Horde tightened their grip, the owl people''s once-proud demeanor crumbled. One by one, they were plucked out of the sky and subjected to the Horde''s games. Some were tied to crude flying contraptions, spun around in dizzying circles, and sent spiraling down toward the mountain slopes before being caught at the last moment. Others were forced into mock races, their wings aching as goblins zipped past them, taunting them for their slowness. The laughter of the Horde echoed across the peaks, a sharp contrast to the pitiful cries of the owl people. Yet Volk, ever the strategist, kept his eyes on the leader of the owl warriors, who had managed to stay above the fray. The owl leader''s wings beat steadily, his keen eyes darting across the battlefield. He barked orders, trying to rally his warriors, but his voice held a tremor of fear. He watched as his proud flock was reduced to playthings, their dignity stripped away by the relentless onslaught. "Hold the line!" he screeched. "Regroup! We can still¡ª" His command was cut off by the sudden roar of an ogre. The massive figure shot up from below, swinging a club that narrowly missed the owl leader. The gust of wind from the swing knocked the leader off balance, forcing him to flap frantically to regain control. "Running out of ideas, are we?" Volk called out, his voice dripping with mockery. The leader glared down at him, his beak clenching tightly. "You think this is over, orc? This humiliation will cost you dearly!" Volk tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "Oh? And who exactly is going to make me pay? You?" The Horde erupted in laughter at Volk''s taunt, their morale soaring as they continued to dominate the skies. Below, the fallen owl warriors lay in heaps, their wings battered and their pride shattered. They watched helplessly as their leader remained the last one standing, circling high above. The goblins jeered, waving their weapons in the air. "Your boss is next!" one of them shouted. Volk raised a hand, silencing the Horde. His smirk faded, replaced by a look of calculated menace. "Enough playing," he said, his voice low but firm. The Horde stilled, their laughter fading into a tense silence. All eyes turned to Volk as he pointed a single, commanding finger toward the owl leader. "You''re the last one left," Volk said, his voice carrying an air of finality. "Let''s see if you''re worth the trouble your arrogance has caused." The owl leader froze, his sharp eyes narrowing as Volk''s words sank in. But Volk wasn''t finished. A dark grin spread across his face as he added, "Are you ready?" The owl leader hovered above the battlefield, his wings beating slowly, as if savoring the moment of silence. He looked down at Volk and his Horde, his beak curling into what could only be described as a sinister grin. The once-proud warriors of his flock, beaten and humiliated, lay scattered across the ground like broken feathers. Yet there was no despair in his eyes. Instead, they glimmered with something dark¡ªa knowing satisfaction that sent a chill through the air. "You think you''ve won, don''t you?" the owl leader began, his voice echoing across the peaks. The rasping edge in his tone cut through the silence, commanding attention. "You, with your ragtag band of beasts and cobbled-together toys, flying where you don''t belong. You may have bested us today, but do you even realize where you are?" Volk''s eyes narrowed, his sharp senses picking up on the ominous shift in the atmosphere. The wind, already subdued since their arrival, seemed to grow eerily still, as if even nature itself was holding its breath. The other members of the Horde exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier bravado tempered by the owl leader''s cryptic words. The leader spread his wings wide, his silhouette a menacing shadow against the gray skies. "This is no ordinary mountain, you fools!" he bellowed, his laughter ringing out in jagged, mocking bursts. "You have brought your filthy Horde to the Lost Mountain¡ªa place even your kind would never dare enter if you knew the truth. The mountain of my ancestors, where the wind whispers warnings, and the mist hides horrors beyond your comprehension." The goblins shifted uneasily, their earlier laughter now replaced by murmurs of uncertainty. One of them muttered, "Lost Mountain? What''s he talking about?" The owl leader continued, ignoring their confusion. "Do you know why this place is called the Lost Mountain?" He didn''t wait for an answer, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and malice. "Because those who set foot here without knowing its secrets¡­ never leave! The mists will consume you, the beasts hidden within will tear you apart, and the very mountain itself will ensure your doom. No outsider has ever escaped its grasp!" Volk folded his arms, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features. "Is that so? Then why are you still here, bird?" he said, his voice laced with disdain. The owl leader''s grin widened. "Because we are the keepers of this land! This mountain is our sanctuary, and we know its ways. But you¡­ you and your pitiful Horde are nothing but intruders. You don''t belong here, and the mountain will see to it that you pay the price for your arrogance." The Horde, now fully attentive, began to stir uneasily. Even the ogres, who were typically unfazed by threats, shifted their weight nervously, their massive hands gripping their weapons tightly. The owl leader''s voice dropped to a chilling whisper that seemed to carry unnaturally across the distance. "And you, Volk¡­ bringing your filthy Horde here was your greatest mistake. You''ve doomed them all, and for what? Your petty ambitions? Your lust for conquest? Mark my words, this mountain will devour you, and it will take its time doing so." Suddenly, his laughter erupted again, wild and unhinged. The sound grated on the ears of the Horde, sending shivers down their spines. "Oh, the irony," he cackled, "that you think you''ve won! But you haven''t even begun to lose!" The wind began to pick up, swirling faintly around them. Yet it was no ordinary breeze¡ªit carried a strange weight, almost as if it were alive, curling around their ankles and tugging at their clothes. The goblins whispered nervously, their instincts screaming that something was very wrong. "And now," the owl leader said, his voice dripping with mockery, "I may fall, but I''ll do so knowing that my death will seal your fate. The mists will rise soon. And when they do¡­ oh, how you''ll scream. How you''ll beg for mercy from the misty beasts that dwell within these peaks!" At the mention of the misty beasts, several goblins gasped audibly. Stories of such creatures had circulated among various tribes for generations¡ªphantoms of the mountains that could tear flesh from bone in an instant, moving silently through the fog. But no one had ever confirmed their existence. The owl leader''s eyes burned with triumph as he looked down at Volk one last time. "Good luck, Volk," he spat. "You''ll need it. But luck won''t save you. Nothing will." And with that, he let out a final, defiant cry, his wings faltering as he finally succumbed to his injuries. His body plummeted from the sky, crashing into the rocky ground below with a sickening thud. Blood pooled beneath his broken form, but his expression remained eerily victorious, a chilling grin frozen on his beak. The Horde stood in tense silence, staring at the lifeless body of the owl leader. But his words lingered, echoing in their minds like a haunting refrain. Volk''s eyes flicked to the horizon, where a faint mist had begun to roll in from the higher peaks. A single thought pierced the heavy silence: What now? Chapter 329 - 329: The mist thickens The Horde hesitated at the edge of the descending path, the steep trail snaking down into the unknown depths of the mountain. Volk stood at the forefront, his gaze scanning the jagged rocks and shifting shadows below. Though the owl leader''s body lay broken and lifeless, his parting words clung to their minds like a ghostly whisper. The Lost Mountain. A place where mists swallowed invaders whole, and beasts hunted in silence. The air itself seemed heavier, charged with an unnatural stillness that made every breath feel labored. "We move," Volk ordered, his voice sharp but steady, slicing through the oppressive quiet. "Stay alert. Watch your steps. No one strays from the group." The Horde began to descend in cautious silence. Each step was measured, their boots crunching against loose gravel and ancient stone. The trail narrowed precariously at points, forcing the group into a single file, with Volk leading and the ogres bringing up the rear. The goblins, smaller and lighter, moved with relative ease, though their wide, darting eyes betrayed their unease. As they ventured deeper, the mists began to creep in around them like pale, ghostly tendrils. It started faintly, a thin veil that wove through the rocks and clung to the ground. But with each passing moment, it thickened, swirling and coiling around their legs. The mists felt alive, brushing against their skin with an unnatural chill. "Do you hear that?" one of the goblins whispered, his voice trembling. Volk turned sharply, silencing him with a glare. "Focus. Fear feeds these kinds of places. Don''t give it power." But even Volk couldn''t deny the sounds that began to filter through the mists. Low, guttural growls echoed faintly from unseen depths, followed by the crunch of shifting stones, as if massive claws scraped against the mountain. The noises were sporadic, fleeting, and always distant¡ªyet close enough to unnerve even the hardened ogres. "I don''t like this," one of the ogres grunted, his deep voice carrying a note of unease. He shifted his massive club from one hand to the other, his eyes scanning the swirling fog. "Feels like somethin'' watchin'' us." Another sound echoed¡ªa sharp, piercing roar that reverberated through the rocks, sending shudders through the entire group. The goblins froze, clutching their weapons tightly, their knuckles pale. Even Volk paused for a moment, his ears straining to pinpoint the source. "Keep moving," Volk commanded, his voice firm but lower now, as if unwilling to stir the mountain further. The path grew steeper and more treacherous, forcing them to slow their pace. The mists thickened further, reducing visibility to mere feet. Shadows danced on the edges of their vision, twisting and contorting into shapes that seemed almost humanoid before dissipating into nothingness. Occasionally, a sudden, sharp movement would catch the Horde''s attention¡ªa flash of something darting through the fog or the faint rustle of disturbed gravel. The tension was palpable, a living thing that wrapped itself around their throats and refused to let go. "Did you hear that?" a goblin whispered again, his voice barely audible. "I said quiet!" Volk barked, his patience fraying. But even Volk could hear it now: a rhythmic, low growl that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. It was accompanied by a deep, rumbling vibration, as if the mountain itself was breathing. The wind, which had been eerily still, began to stir, carrying faint, unplaceable sounds¡ªwhispers that danced at the edge of hearing, growing louder and clearer with every step. They spoke in no language Volk recognized, but their tone was unmistakably hostile. The goblins huddled closer together, their nerves fraying with each passing moment. One of them tripped on a loose stone, letting out a small yelp that echoed far louder than it should have. The group froze, every eye scanning the mists, every breath held. Then came the sound of movement¡ªsomething heavy shifting just beyond the veil of fog. It was slow and deliberate, accompanied by a faint scraping, as if claws dragged against stone. "Eyes up," Volk ordered, his voice a harsh whisper. He raised his weapon, his gaze fixed on the shifting shadows ahead. The scraping stopped, replaced by a low, guttural snarl. It was close now¡ªtoo close. Volk''s heart pounded, but he refused to let his fear show. Instead, he stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "Whatever''s out there," he growled, "it''ll regret testing us." The Horde braced themselves, weapons drawn, their nerves stretched taut. The mountain seemed to hold its breath, the mists closing in tighter around them. And then, from somewhere deep in the fog, another roar erupted¡ªlouder, closer, and filled with unmistakable malice. Volk tightened his grip on his weapon, his eyes scanning the dense white void ahead. "Stay close," he commanded. "We don''t stop until we''re through this." The Horde began to move again, their steps slower, their movements more deliberate. The sounds of unseen creatures persisted, following them like a predator stalking its prey. Occasionally, the roars would echo again, as if the mists themselves were mocking them. Soon, the mists swirled thicker around the Horde as they descended further into the mountain''s depths. What had once been treacherous but visible ground beneath their feet began to vanish, swallowed whole by the encroaching fog. The trail they followed disappeared inch by inch, leaving them to navigate blindly. The last glimpses of grass, jagged stones, and loose gravel faded into an endless expanse of white. The mist wasn''t just dense; it was alive. It curled and twisted in unnatural patterns, tendrils reaching out as though testing the Horde''s resolve. Each breath they took felt damp and heavy, the air clinging to their lungs. "Is it¡­ thicker now?" one of the goblins stammered, his voice shaking. Volk glared at him but didn''t respond. He too had noticed the oppressive change. The mist had grown not only heavier but colder, an unnatural chill that seemed to seep into their bones. Each step felt heavier, as though the very ground beneath them had turned against them. The sounds began as faint whispers¡ªsoft, indistinct, and fleeting. They came from all around, darting from one side to the other. Sometimes it sounded like voices murmuring words too faint to decipher. Other times, it was a low, guttural growl, like a predator preparing to strike. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Do you hear that?" an ogre asked, his voice breaking the silence like a hammer striking a gong. "We all hear it," Volk snapped, his tone low and tense. "Keep moving. Ignore it." But ignoring the noises was easier said than done. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, as if the mist itself carried them. Shapes began to form in the fog¡ªdark, shifting silhouettes that seemed to move when no one was looking. "Over there!" a goblin shouted, pointing frantically into the mist. "Quiet!" Volk barked, but his gaze followed the goblin''s trembling hand. There was nothing there¡ªjust the mist, swirling and coiling like a living thing. Yet even Volk couldn''t shake the feeling of being watched. The sounds became clearer. What had once been faint whispers now resembled guttural snarls and the crunch of something heavy moving just out of sight. Occasionally, there was the sharp crack of a branch breaking or the scrape of claws against stone. The noises were uncomfortably real, sending shivers down the spines of even the ogres. "I don''t like this," one of the ogres muttered, gripping his weapon tighter. "It''s like they''re circlin'' us." The goblins huddled closer together, their small forms trembling as they scanned the mist for any sign of movement. Some muttered prayers to deities they hadn''t spoken of in years. Others simply gripped their weapons and stared into the void, their wide eyes filled with fear. The ground beneath them seemed to vanish entirely. Where there had once been a trail of loose stones and dirt, there was now only mist. Each step felt like venturing into the unknown, the solid earth below replaced by a soft, almost spongy sensation that sent a jolt of unease through the group. "Where''s the path?" a goblin whispered, his voice barely audible. "There is no path," Volk growled, his tone sharp but steady. "We make our own." But even Volk couldn''t ignore the growing sense of unease. The mist clung to him like a second skin, its cold touch unnerving. The sounds grew louder, closer, and more distinct. The growls now had depth and weight, as if the creatures making them were no longer distant echoes but right beside them. A sudden roar erupted from the mist, loud and guttural, sending the Horde into a frenzy. The goblins screamed, clutching their weapons tightly. The ogres shifted uneasily, their massive forms tense and ready for combat. "Hold!" Volk shouted, raising his hand to calm the group. "It''s just a trick of the mist. Stay together!" But even Volk wasn''t so sure. The roar had felt real¡ªtoo real. And now, the shapes in the mist seemed more solid, more defined. Occasionally, a flicker of movement would catch his eye¡ªa dark form darting just out of reach. The whispers returned, louder this time and accompanied by a strange hissing sound. It slithered through the mist like a serpent, curling around the group and filling their ears. The goblins covered their ears in desperation, their faces pale with terror. "Keep moving!" Volk roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. But the mist had other plans. It seemed to thicken further, wrapping around them like a cocoon. The white void became suffocating, and the sounds of their own footsteps began to fade, replaced by the constant growling and hissing. Another roar erupted, this time closer¡ªtoo close. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps, the ground trembling beneath their feet. Whatever was out there, it wasn''t hiding anymore. "Form up!" Volk commanded, his voice sharp and unyielding. The Horde obeyed, forming a tight circle with Volk at the center. Weapons were drawn, eyes scanning the mist for any sign of movement. The goblins crouched low, their small forms trembling but ready. The ogres stood tall, their massive clubs and axes gleaming in the faint light. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of their own ragged breathing. Then, from the mist, came a low, guttural growl. It was followed by another, and then another, until the air was filled with the sound of unseen predators. Volk''s grip on his weapon tightened. His heart pounded in his chest, but his face remained stoic. "Whatever''s out there," he muttered under his breath, "it''s going to regret facing us." The growls grew louder, accompanied by the sound of claws scraping against stone. The shapes in the mist grew closer, their forms taking on terrifying clarity. They were massive, hulking beasts, their glowing eyes piercing through the fog like lanterns. "Ready yourselves!" Volk shouted, his voice echoing through the mist. The Horde braced themselves, their weapons raised. The tension was unbearable, the weight of the mist pressing down on them like a physical force. And as the first beast''s glowing eyes locked onto Volk, a deafening roar erupted, signaling the start of the battle. Chapter 330 - 330: Fake or real The Horde stood frozen, their weapons clenched tightly, eyes darting through the oppressive mist. The tension in the air was suffocating, each member straining to catch any sign of movement in the swirling fog. The growls and snarls that had surrounded them moments ago seemed to vanish, replaced by an eerie silence. "Was it just... noise?" a goblin whispered, his voice trembling. "Don''t let your guard down," Volk growled, his eyes scanning the void. "This mist is alive. Tricks and illusions are its weapons." Suddenly, a faint rustling noise broke the quiet, barely audible but enough to send a chill through the group. The sound grew louder, closer, morphing into a series of wet, slithering noises. The mist around them seemed to ripple, its tendrils shifting and curling like living creatures. The goblins huddled closer, their small forms trembling. Even the ogres, usually stalwart and fearless, shifted uneasily, their massive hands gripping their weapons tighter. Then, without warning, a shape emerged from the mist¡ªa massive, hulking form that loomed over the group. Its body was indistinct, more shadow than substance, but its glowing red eyes burned through the fog like embers in a fire. "It''s real!" one of the goblins screamed, his voice cracking with terror. The creature let out a guttural snarl, the sound vibrating through the air like a thunderclap. Its form shifted and twisted, the edges of its body dissolving into the mist before reforming. It moved with a predatory grace, its steps silent but deliberate as it approached the Horde. "Hold your ground!" Volk bellowed, raising his weapon. "It''s testing us. Don''t break formation!" But fear was a powerful force. One of the goblins broke ranks, stumbling backward as he tried to put distance between himself and the creature. "No!" Volk roared, but it was too late. The monster lunged, its massive maw opening wide as it closed the distance in an instant. The goblin barely had time to scream before the creature snapped its jaws shut around him. The sound of crunching bones and tearing flesh filled the air as the goblin was lifted off the ground and swallowed whole. The Horde stood in stunned silence, their faces pale with shock. But then, something strange happened. The creature paused, its body flickering like a flame in the wind. Its glowing eyes dimmed, and its form began to dissolve, breaking apart into tendrils of mist. The goblin, still whole and unharmed, dropped to the ground with a thud, gasping for air. "What¡ªwhat just happened?" the goblin stammered, his eyes wide with terror. The monster let out a final, guttural growl before disappearing completely, its body dissolving into the mist as though it had never been there. "It wasn''t real," Volk muttered, his eyes narrowing. "A trick of the mist." "But I felt it," the goblin whispered, clutching his chest. "It was real. The pain, the teeth¡ªit was all real." Volk knelt down, his eyes scanning the goblin''s trembling form. There were no wounds, no blood¡ªnothing to suggest he''d been attacked at all. Yet the fear in his eyes was undeniable. "The mist is more dangerous than we thought," Volk said, rising to his feet. "It can manifest illusions so vivid they feel real. But it''s still a trick. It can''t harm us if we don''t let it." "Tell that to my soul," the goblin muttered, earning a sharp glare from Volk. "Steel yourselves!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the fear. "This mountain wants us to falter, to break. But we won''t. Stay together, stay strong, and trust in each other. The mist is mysterious." The Horde trudged through the relentless mist, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint shuffle of feet and the occasional creak of their armor. Volk led the group with sharp vigilance, his eyes scanning the swirling fog that seemed to press in from all directions. The memory of the last encounter weighed heavily on them, the fear of being deceived again by phantom monsters lingering in their minds. The mist thickened further, its tendrils creeping along the ground like searching fingers. The air felt heavier now, each breath a laborious effort. The faint whispers they had grown accustomed to became louder, sharper, resembling a cacophony of indecipherable voices that grated against their nerves. Something was wrong. Volk''s instincts screamed at him. He slowed his steps, raising a hand to signal the Horde to stop. The goblins halted immediately, their small frames tense with unease. The ogres gripped their weapons, their knuckles white against the hafts of their massive clubs. "Stay close," Volk commanded, his voice a low growl. "The mist is playing tricks again, but this time¡­ it feels different." The Horde nodded silently, their eyes darting nervously through the fog. The whispers seemed to grow louder, coalescing into a rhythm, a strange cadence that set their hearts pounding. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Volk saw it. A shadow moved within the mist. It was faint at first, just a flicker of movement that could have been the fog shifting. But then it grew larger, more defined. The shape was massive, its outline jagged and uneven, like a creature formed from the mist itself. It had no clear form, no face, but its presence was undeniable. "Another trick," one of the goblins whispered, his voice shaking. "It''s just like the last one. It''s not real." "Maybe," Volk replied, his gaze locked on the creature. "But don''t assume anything. Stay alert." The shadow moved closer, the mist parting around it like water around a ship''s hull. It was slow, deliberate, each step echoing in the unnatural silence. The whispers grew louder still, almost deafening now, as if the mist itself were alive and screaming. Volk tightened his grip on his weapon. Something about this one felt¡­ tangible. The air around it seemed heavier, denser, as though it were warping reality itself. The creature stopped just a few paces from the Horde, its formless body writhing like a mass of shadows caught in a storm. It towered over them, its presence oppressive and suffocating. The whispers stopped abruptly, plunging the group into a silence so complete it was almost deafening. One of the ogres stepped forward, his massive club raised. "It''s just another illusion," he grunted, his voice steady despite the tension in his stance. "Watch this." He swung the club with all his might, the weapon cutting through the air with a loud whoosh. The mist creature didn''t flinch. Instead, the club passed through it harmlessly, just as they had expected. "See?" the ogre said, turning back to the group. "Nothing but smoke and¡ª" Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Before he could finish, the creature lunged. It moved with blinding speed, its shadowy form twisting and contorting as it struck. The ogre stumbled back, clutching his arm. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining the ground beneath him. The Horde froze, their eyes wide with shock. "It''s not fake!" one of the goblins screamed, his voice breaking the silence. "It''s real! It''s real!" The creature reared back, its form shifting and solidifying as it prepared to strike again. Volk stepped forward, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with determination. "Hold your ground!" he bellowed. "This one isn''t like the others. Fight!" The Horde snapped out of their stupor, their weapons raised as they prepared to face the very real danger before them. But even as they moved to defend themselves, the creature let out a low, guttural growl, its form rippling with malevolent energy. Volk tightened his grip on his blade, his mind racing. The rules of this mist had just changed. The mist clung to them like a living thing, a shroud that swallowed sight and sound, leaving only the oppressive silence and the occasional, nerve-shredding roar of unseen creatures. Volk led the Horde through the fog, his every step deliberate and cautious. The ground beneath them was uncertain, shifting between solid stone and slick, unsteady soil. Even the wind, which had once been a faint whisper, seemed to have abandoned them. Around them, shadows danced in the mist, flickering in and out of existence like ghosts. The Horde tightened their formation, weapons drawn and eyes darting nervously through the swirling fog. The air was thick with tension, and every faint rustle or distant growl set their nerves on edge. "This place is cursed," one of the goblins muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. "It''s like the mist is alive." "Quiet," Volk snapped, his voice low but firm. "Keep your focus. Whatever''s out there, we''ll deal with it." The words were meant to reassure, but even Volk couldn''t deny the unease crawling up his spine. The mist played tricks on the eyes, turning every shadow into a lurking predator and every faint sound into a threat. Suddenly, a monstrous form emerged from the fog ahead, its hulking shape grotesque and unnatural. The Horde braced themselves, weapons raised, ready to strike. But as they watched, the creature dissolved into the mist, leaving nothing but empty air. "Another fake," one of the ogres grumbled, lowering his club. "This mist is just toying with us." But before they could relax, a second creature appeared, this one smaller but no less menacing. It charged at them with terrifying speed, its glowing eyes piercing through the fog. The Horde attacked, their weapons swinging through the air¡ªonly to find that this creature, too, was nothing more than mist. "This is madness," another goblin whispered, his voice shaky. "How can we fight what isn''t real?" As if in answer, a third creature appeared, this one snarling and snapping its jaws. It leaped at one of the ogres, and for a moment, they hesitated, unsure whether it was another illusion. The ogre swung his club hesitantly, and the creature passed through him like smoke. "See? Nothing but tricks," the ogre muttered, but his confidence was short-lived. A fourth creature materialized behind him, its claws raking across his back. He roared in pain, stumbling forward as blood seeped through his armor. "That one''s real!" Volk shouted, his voice cutting through the confusion. "Some are illusions, but not all of them!" The Horde froze, their eyes darting frantically between the shifting shadows in the mist. The line between real and unreal blurred, leaving them paralyzed with uncertainty. A goblin screamed as another creature lunged at him, its massive jaws closing around his arm. He swung his dagger wildly, but it passed harmlessly through the creature''s form, leaving him unscathed. The goblin collapsed to the ground, trembling and clutching his arm as if he could still feel the phantom pain. "Focus!" Volk roared, his voice a thunderous command. "If it''s real, it''ll leave a mark. If it''s fake, ignore it!" But his words did little to quell the panic spreading through the ranks. The mist seemed to close in on them, the whispers rising to a deafening chorus of laughter and growls. Creatures appeared and disappeared all around them, their forms shifting and warping, some real, some not. A massive clawed hand swiped at an ogre, leaving a deep gash across his chest. He stumbled back, roaring in pain, as another creature lunged at him¡ªonly to vanish before making contact. "We can''t tell which is real!" a goblin cried, his voice breaking with fear. "How do we fight this?" Volk''s jaw tightened as he parried a strike from a creature that dissolved into mist. The Horde was in disarray, their formation crumbling under the relentless onslaught of illusions and genuine attacks. Another creature leaped at them, its glowing eyes filled with malice. This one was real; Volk could feel the weight of its presence as he struck it down with a swift slash of his blade. But as it fell, another appeared, and then another, each more menacing than the last. The Horde was exhausted, their movements sluggish, their strikes less precise. Every swing of their weapons felt like a gamble, unsure whether they were striking at an actual threat or wasting their strength on shadows. Then, through the chaos, one of the goblins turned to Volk, his eyes wide with fear. Blood dripped from a shallow cut on his cheek, his breathing ragged. "Leader," he gasped, his voice trembling, "what do we do now? How do we fight something we can''t see? Something we don''t understand?" All eyes turned to Volk, their fear and confusion mirrored in his own. For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the whispers in the mist fading to a haunting silence. Chapter 331 - 331: Mist of fear The mist wrapped around them like a suffocating blanket, shifting and swirling, obscuring everything in sight. The growls and snarls of unseen monsters reverberated through the fog, a cacophony that set the Horde''s nerves on edge. Volk stood in the middle of the disarray, his sword in hand, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows for any hint of truth amidst the deceit. The Horde was struggling, their breaths ragged, their strikes more erratic with each passing moment. Everywhere he turned, the mist seemed alive, conjuring forms that loomed over them with malicious intent. Yet Volk knew better now. Some of the creatures weren''t real. They were nothing more than illusions meant to drive them to despair. But others¡ªthe real ones¡ªwere deadly enough to cause chaos among even the strongest of his Horde. Volk''s mind raced as he observed the attacks. The fake creatures dissolved into nothing when struck, leaving only the frustration of wasted energy. The real ones left marks, drawing blood and sapping their strength. He gritted his teeth, frustration mounting as he tried to discern the pattern, to make sense of the chaos. But there was no clear solution. The mist monsters moved too quickly, too erratically. Real or fake, they blended into the fog, their forms flickering in and out of existence like phantoms. Volk clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his weapon. Then it hit him. He wasn''t just fighting illusions; they were fighting their own fear. The mist preyed on their uncertainty, their hesitation. It was a test of trust, of instinct. But how could they trust their instincts when the very ground beneath them seemed to lie? Volk closed his eyes for a moment, shutting out the madness, shutting out the swirling mist. In that brief moment of darkness, he listened¡ªtruly listened. The growls were there, but they weren''t everywhere. The whispers were faint, and the air itself felt lighter without the visual distractions. "Close your eyes!" Volk roared, his voice booming through the fog. The Horde turned to him, confusion and fear etched into their faces. "What?" a goblin stammered, barely able to hold his trembling dagger. "Close your eyes!" Volk repeated, louder this time. "All of you! Trust me!" "Close our eyes? But the monsters¡ª" "Do it now!" Volk''s command was like a whip crack, and slowly, reluctantly, the Horde began to comply. One by one, they hesitated, unsure whether to trust his strange order. An ogre was the first to obey, dropping his massive club and squeezing his eyes shut. His breath came in heavy, uneven gasps, his muscles tensing as if bracing for an unseen attack. A goblin followed, clutching his weapon tightly as he shut his eyes, trembling like a leaf in a storm. Another ogre, then another goblin, then more. Each of them closed their eyes, their hands gripping their weapons, their postures defensive. The mist seemed to react, swirling faster, the fake monsters appearing more frequently, their forms larger and more grotesque. One lunged at a goblin, its massive jaws snapping mere inches from his face. He flinched but kept his eyes closed, his grip tightening on his weapon. "Good!" Volk barked, his own eyes still open as he watched over them. "Don''t open them, no matter what you hear, no matter what you feel! Just trust me!" The Horde obeyed, their breathing heavy but steady. The mist monsters became more aggressive, their movements erratic and unpredictable. One swung its massive claw at an ogre, who stood still, unflinching. The claw passed through him harmlessly, dissolving into the mist. Volk grinned. It was working. But then, one of the real monsters appeared. Its glowing red eyes pierced through the fog as it crept closer to an unsuspecting goblin. Volk moved like lightning, his blade slicing through the creature before it could strike. It let out a pained roar, its form collapsing into the mist, leaving no trace behind. "Keep your eyes closed!" Volk shouted again, his voice filled with authority. "You''re safe as long as you listen to me!" The Horde tightened their formation, their eyes firmly shut. The mist seemed to grow angrier, the whispers rising into a deafening cacophony. The fake monsters lunged and roared, their forms growing more distorted and monstrous. But none of the Horde flinched. Volk''s eyes darted around, watching for any signs of the real monsters. He struck swiftly and decisively, cutting them down before they could harm his people. The mist began to falter, its grip loosening as the Horde refused to give in to its illusions. The air grew quieter, the growls fading into the distance. The mist monsters appeared less frequently, their forms dissolving more quickly. Volk kept his focus, his every movement precise as he dispatched the remaining real creatures. Finally, the mist began to clear. The thick, oppressive fog lifted, revealing the rocky terrain beneath their feet. The growls and whispers were gone, replaced by an eerie silence. "Open your eyes," Volk commanded, his voice calm but firm. The Horde obeyed, their eyes blinking against the sudden clarity. They looked around, their expressions a mix of relief and awe. The mist was gone, the monsters vanquished. "You did well," Volk said, his voice carrying a rare note of pride. "You trusted me. And we won because of it." The Horde let out a collective sigh of relief, their tense shoulders relaxing. They had survived the mist, the illusions, the real and fake threats. And they had done it together. Soon, the air grew lighter, and as the last remnants of the oppressive mist dissipated, the Horde stood in stunned silence. Then, like a dam breaking, laughter erupted. It started as a nervous chuckle from one goblin, then spread like wildfire until it became a roaring celebration. They laughed with relief, with joy, and with the exhilaration of surviving what had felt like certain doom. "Did you see that? The mist just vanished!" one goblin exclaimed, waving his arms as if to push away invisible fog. "And those monsters¡ªfake ones, real ones¡ªI couldn''t even tell anymore!" an ogre bellowed, his booming laughter shaking loose pebbles from nearby rocks. Another goblin, smaller than the rest, jumped up and down, his high-pitched giggle infectious. "I thought we were goners! But Volk knew! Volk knew exactly what to do!" All eyes turned to Volk, who stood a little apart from the group, his arms crossed and his expression thoughtful. But even Volk, their steadfast leader, couldn''t suppress a small grin as he watched the Horde celebrating. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as the goblins, ogres, and other creatures crowded around him. "Volk!" one of them called out, a goblin with a lopsided helmet that barely stayed on his head. "How did you know? How did you figure it out?" "Yeah!" another chimed in, his eyes wide with admiration. "You knew the fake ones from the real ones! And that trick with the eyes¡ªhow did you think of that?" Volk raised a hand, silencing the questions with a single motion. "It wasn''t magic," he began, his voice calm but firm. "It wasn''t some ancient knowledge passed down through generations. And it wasn''t because I had some hidden insight into these creatures." The Horde leaned in, hanging on his every word. Even the ogres, usually too impatient for speeches, looked at him with genuine curiosity. Volk pointed to his head. "It was logic. Think about it. The mist played with our senses. It showed us things that weren''t real. But the real monsters? They left marks. They hurt us. That''s the difference. Once I realized that, I had to gamble on one simple truth: the mist relies on our fear. If we didn''t see it, if we didn''t react to it, it lost its power." The Horde murmured among themselves, nodding at his explanation. It made sense, after all. But one goblin, braver than the rest, raised his hand timidly. "But¡­ but Volk, how did you know it would work? What if the monsters were still real, even if we couldn''t see them?" Volk let out a laugh, deep and hearty, that startled the Horde. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. "I didn''t." The crowd fell silent, staring at him with wide eyes. "I didn''t know," Volk admitted, his grin widening. "It was a gamble. A big one. But sometimes, you have to take risks when the odds are stacked against you." He shrugged, his tone casual, as if he hadn''t just gambled with all their lives. "I figured we were already in trouble, so why not try something different?" The Horde stared at him for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. "A gamble!" one ogre roared, slapping his massive thigh. "Our leader''s just as crazy as the rest of us!" "And it worked!" another goblin shouted, throwing his hands into the air. The laughter grew louder, echoing off the rocky terrain. The tension from before melted away as the Horde celebrated their survival, their trust in Volk, and the sheer absurdity of it all. Volk stood in the middle of the commotion, watching them with a faint smile. He couldn''t help but chuckle along with them. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he said, shaking his head. "But remember this: sometimes a gamble pays off. And sometimes it doesn''t. Next time, I''d rather we not rely on luck." The Horde''s laughter continued, unabated, as they began recounting their individual moments of panic and relief. One goblin mimicked the way another had screamed when a mist monster lunged at him, earning uproarious laughter from the group. An ogre demonstrated how he had blindly swung his club, hitting nothing but air, which only added to the hilarity. But as the celebration carried on, Volk''s eyes turned to the mist lingering at the edges of their vision. Though it had cleared enough to reveal the path ahead, he could see it shifting and swirling, as if biding its time. The roars and whispers had stopped, but the mist was still there, still alive in some way. He frowned, his instincts warning him that this reprieve was temporary. Turning back to his Horde, he raised a hand again, silencing their laughter. "Listen up!" he barked, his tone commanding. The Horde quieted instantly, their eyes snapping to him. "We''re not out of this yet. The mist might be gone for now, but it''ll come back. And when it does, we need a safe place to rest." One of the goblins raised a hand. "What do we do, Volk?" Volk scanned their surroundings, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the rocky terrain. "We find a cave," he said firmly. "Somewhere we can barricade ourselves in if we need to. Somewhere the mist can''t reach us." The Horde nodded, their earlier joy replaced by determination. As they began to gather their belongings and prepare to move, Volk took one last look at the mist in the distance. It was still there, swirling ominously. "We''ll be ready," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. Then, louder, he called out to his Horde, "Move out! Let''s find shelter before night falls!" sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. And with that, they began their cautious descent, the echoes of their earlier laughter fading as the weight of the mist''s threat settled back upon them. Chapter 332 - 332: Strange Quiet The night settled over the misty mountain, blanketing everything in a suffocating darkness that seemed almost tangible. Inside the cramped, hidden cave, the Horde sat in tense silence, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of a small, makeshift fire. Shadows danced on the walls, twisting into shapes that mimicked the monstrous forms they had encountered earlier in the mist. The quiet was unsettling. The sound of their own breathing and the occasional crackle of the fire felt deafening in the stillness. It was as if the very world outside had been swallowed whole, leaving them alone in a void. Then, a sound broke through the silence¡ªa low, guttural growl that seemed to echo from the mist itself. The Horde froze, their eyes darting to the cave entrance. One goblin clutched his knees, rocking slightly as if trying to comfort himself. "It''s just the wind," he whispered, his voice trembling. But then came another sound, this one sharper¡ªa snapping noise, like the breaking of brittle bones. It was closer, more distinct, and undeniably unnatural. "That''s no wind," muttered an ogre, his deep voice barely above a whisper. He gripped his massive club tightly, his knuckles whitening. The sounds outside grew louder, more varied. A low rumble, a high-pitched shriek, and something that sounded like claws scraping against stone. The noises seemed to come from every direction, surrounding the cave like an unseen predator circling its prey. The smallest goblin, barely more than a child, clung to the leg of a larger goblin. "What is it? Are they¡­ are they real this time?" "No one knows," grunted another ogre, his eyes locked on the entrance. "And I don''t want to find out." The scraping grew louder, closer, and was joined by the sound of something wet, like the slithering of a massive serpent dragging itself across the ground. The Horde huddled closer together, their collective breath hitching as the noises intensified. Volk sat at the edge of the group, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on the faint outline of the cave entrance. He didn''t speak, didn''t move, but his mind was racing. He could feel the fear radiating from his people, their trust in him balanced precariously on the edge of their growing panic. A sudden roar split the night, so loud and guttural that it seemed to shake the very walls of the cave. It was followed by the sound of heavy, pounding footsteps that stopped just short of the entrance. The Horde flinched as one, some of the goblins letting out small cries. One ogre instinctively raised his club, ready to swing at whatever might come through the opening. Then, silence. The absence of sound was almost worse than the noise itself. It pressed down on them, heavy and suffocating, as if the darkness outside was alive and waiting. "What¡­ what''s out there?" a goblin whispered, his voice barely audible. Volk finally spoke, his voice low but firm. "It doesn''t matter." The Horde turned to him, their eyes wide with fear and desperation. "If it''s real, we''ll deal with it," Volk continued. "If it''s not, then it''s just the mist playing tricks on us again. Either way, sitting here and trembling won''t help." "But what if it gets in?" one goblin asked, his voice cracking. "It won''t," Volk said, his tone brooking no argument. "We''ve blocked the entrance well enough. Whatever''s out there can''t get to us." As if to challenge his words, another roar echoed outside, followed by a chorus of shrill, inhuman screams. The sounds were more intense now, more visceral, and the Horde clutched their weapons tightly. One of the ogres shifted uncomfortably, his massive frame casting a shadow over the smaller goblins. "It''s getting louder," he muttered, his deep voice betraying a hint of unease. Volk''s gaze remained steady, though his mind was anything but calm. He couldn''t show fear. Not now. Not when they needed him to be their anchor. The sounds continued¡ªscraping, growling, shrieking¡ªinterspersed with occasional thuds that sounded like something heavy hitting the ground. The Horde couldn''t tell if the noises were moving closer or farther away, but each sound felt like a fresh assault on their already frayed nerves. A sudden, piercing howl filled the air, followed by what sounded like laughter¡ªdeep, guttural, and mocking. The sound sent a shiver down their spines, and one of the goblins whimpered, covering his ears. "Make it stop," he pleaded, his voice muffled. "I can''t take it anymore." "It''s just noise," Volk said sharply, his tone cutting through the panic. "Don''t let it get to you." But even Volk couldn''t deny that the sounds were growing more intense, more invasive. They seemed to worm their way into their minds, amplifying their fear and feeding the mist''s malevolent presence. The fire flickered, its light dimming as if even it were being consumed by the oppressive atmosphere. Shadows grew longer and darker, and the walls of the cave seemed to close in around them. "Volk," one of the goblins said, his voice barely a whisper. "What if¡­ what if this place really is cursed? What if the mist never lets us go?" Volk didn''t answer immediately. He stared at the fire, his expression unreadable. Then, he looked up, his eyes sharp and determined. "We''ll get through this," he said firmly. "We''ve survived worse. The mist won''t break us." The Horde nodded hesitantly, clinging to his words like a lifeline. Another roar echoed outside, followed by the sound of something crashing into the rocks near the entrance. The entire cave shook, and dust fell from the ceiling. "Enough," Volk said, standing abruptly. His commanding presence silenced the whispers and murmurs. "This is just another trial. We''ve faced danger before, and we''ll face it again. But right now, we need to rest. No more worrying, no more listening to the noises outside. Rest. That''s an order." The Horde exchanged uneasy glances but ultimately nodded. One by one, they began to settle down, though their grip on their weapons remained tight. Volk sat down near the entrance, his eyes scanning the shifting shadows beyond the cave. The sounds continued, but he forced himself to block them out, focusing instead on the slow, steady breaths of his people as they drifted into a restless sleep. The morning came not with the warmth of sunlight, but with the same oppressive grayness of the mist that had haunted them throughout the night. It seeped into the cave like an unwelcome guest, brushing against their skin and carrying with it an eerie stillness that made every breath feel heavier. One by one, the Horde stirred awake, their expressions groggy and pale. The night had been restless for most, filled with dreams that blurred the line between reality and the horrors of the mist outside. The fire had long since burned out, leaving only a faint trail of smoke curling into the stale air. The silence was deafening. After the cacophony of monstrous roars, shrieks, and scraping claws that had surrounded them, the absence of sound now felt like its own kind of predator, lying in wait to pounce the moment they let their guard down. A goblin sat up, rubbing his eyes with trembling hands. "It''s¡­ quiet," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His words echoed faintly in the confined space, as if the mist itself were mocking his attempt to break the silence. Another goblin, older and scarred, shot him a sharp glance. "Don''t say it like that," he hissed. "Quiet doesn''t mean safe." "But¡­" the younger goblin stammered, looking toward the cave''s entrance, where the mist coiled like a living thing. "Shouldn''t we¡­ check? Maybe it''s over?" An ogre sitting near the back snorted, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "Over? Do you think those things just stop because we got lucky for one night?" His voice was rough and gravelly, but there was a trace of unease in it. "No, they''re out there. Watching. Waiting." "Waiting for what?" another goblin asked, his voice trembling. "For us to step out," the ogre replied grimly. The group fell into uneasy silence, the weight of his words pressing down on them. The thought of stepping into the mist again, after everything they had endured, was enough to make their stomachs churn. "But it''s¡­ too quiet," another goblin whispered, clutching his knees to his chest. "Last night, it was all roars and screams. Now there''s nothing. Isn''t that worse?" The ogre narrowed his eyes at him. "Worse how?" The goblin hesitated, his gaze flicking nervously to the mist. "Because¡­ because it feels like they''re gone. But what if they''re not? What if they''re just¡­ hiding? Waiting for us to think it''s safe?" "That''s ridiculous," another goblin interjected, his voice strained but defiant. "Monsters don''t hide. They attack. If it''s quiet, it means they''re gone." "Or it means they''re smarter than we think," the scarred goblin muttered darkly. The tension in the cave was palpable, each word adding another layer to the mounting anxiety. Even the ogres, usually stoic and composed, seemed unsettled by the debate. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The smallest goblin, barely more than a child, clung to the leg of one of the ogres. "I don''t want to go out there," he whimpered. "What if they''re waiting for us?" The ogre patted his head awkwardly but didn''t say anything. His silence spoke louder than words. One of the goblins near the entrance shifted uncomfortably, peering into the swirling mist beyond. "We can''t stay here forever," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. "If they''re out there, we''ll have to face them eventually. Right?" Another goblin scoffed. "And what if they''re not out there? What if we''re just scaring ourselves over nothing?" "Nothing?" the older goblin snapped, his voice rising. "Did you see what happened last night? Did you hear those roars? Those weren''t nothing!" "That was last night!" the other goblin shot back. "This is now! Look outside¡ªthere''s nothing there!" "Because we''re still inside the cave!" the older goblin yelled. "Step out, and we''ll see just how much ''nothing'' is waiting for us!" The argument escalated quickly, voices overlapping in a cacophony of fear and frustration. Some argued that they should stay put until they were certain it was safe, while others insisted that staying would only prolong their suffering. "The mist isn''t going anywhere!" one goblin shouted. "And neither are we if we keep hiding!" another retorted. "Enough!" the ogre near the back bellowed, his deep voice cutting through the noise like a thunderclap. The goblins fell silent, turning to him with wide eyes. He glared at them, his expression dark. "Arguing won''t get us anywhere. We need a plan." "A plan?" one of the goblins muttered. "What kind of plan? We can''t even agree on whether to stay or leave!" Another goblin shook his head. "This isn''t about plans. This is about survival. And if we want to survive, we need to stop being afraid of shadows." "But what if they''re not shadows?" the smallest goblin whispered, his voice trembling. "What if they''re real?" The group fell silent again, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. Finally, all eyes turned to Volk. He had been sitting quietly near the fire''s remains, his expression unreadable. His sharp eyes scanned the group, taking in their fear, their uncertainty, and their desperate need for guidance. "Volk," one goblin said hesitantly. "What¡­ what should we do?" Another goblin chimed in, his voice tight with fear. "Do we stay? Do we go? Tell us." Even the ogres, usually so independent, looked to him now, their massive forms looming in the dim light as they waited for his decision. Volk didn''t answer immediately. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on the mist outside. "Let''s go outside," he suddenly muttered. Chapter 333 - 333: Strange day The oppressive mist still clung to the air, wrapping the world in its eerie shroud as Volk stood by the mouth of the cave. He didn''t bother hiding his irritation, his sharp eyes narrowing at the gathered members of the horde. They milled about hesitantly, shuffling their feet, avoiding his gaze, and mumbling excuses that barely rose above whispers. The sound of the silence outside was unsettling, yes, but the tension inside the cave was growing unbearable. One goblin, the smallest and most timid, spoke up, his voice trembling. "M-Maybe we should wait a bit longer, Volk. You know¡­ just to be sure? The mist might still be dangerous." A second goblin, older and scarred, nodded in agreement. "Yeah. What''s the harm in waiting another hour or so? We don''t even know what''s out there. If we go now, we might just be walking into a trap." An ogre, massive and imposing, crossed his arms over his chest and rumbled his agreement. "The mist feels¡­ wrong. You felt it too, Volk. This place is unnatural. If we leave now, we might regret it." Volk turned slowly, his eyes locking onto the ogre with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel. His lips curled into a sneer as he took a deliberate step forward. "Regret it?" His voice was low, dangerous, the kind of tone that made even the most hardened warrior flinch. "You''re afraid of regret? Or is it just fear? Cowardice, maybe?" The ogre stiffened but didn''t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor. Another goblin piped up nervously, wringing his hands. "We''re just saying, Volk. It''s not cowardice. It''s caution. There''s no point in rushing out there and getting killed if we can avoid it. Right?" Volk''s eyes snapped to the goblin, his expression darkening. "Caution?" he hissed, his voice rising with each word. "You call this caution? Huddling in a damp, cramped cave, too afraid to step into the light? Is that what the horde has become? A pack of sniveling, spineless wretches, cowering in fear of shadows?" The goblins and ogres exchanged uneasy glances, murmuring among themselves, but none dared to meet Volk''s furious gaze. "Let me make something very clear," Volk continued, his voice booming now, reverberating off the cave walls. "We are not sheep. We are not prey. We are a horde! A force to be reckoned with! We have faced beasts, skyborne foes, and this cursed mist, and we have won. And now you stand here, shaking in your boots, telling me we should wait? For what? For the mist to swallow us whole? For the creatures out there to grow bold and come knocking at our door?" He began pacing, his movements sharp and restless, his words cutting through their excuses like a blade. "You talk of caution, of safety, as if such things exist for us. We are warriors. Survivors. The moment we start hiding, the moment we let fear dictate our actions, we have already lost! Do you think the world will wait for you to feel brave enough? Do you think the monsters out there will care if you''re ready? No! They will tear you apart the moment you hesitate. And if you stand here, frozen in fear, then you might as well dig your own graves now." The smallest goblin whimpered, shrinking back against the cave wall. One of the ogres opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it when Volk turned his burning gaze on him. "You dare call yourselves a horde?" Volk spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "A horde stands united. A horde fights, no matter the odds. A horde doesn''t cower! If you cannot face the mist, if you cannot summon the courage to step outside this pathetic little hole in the ground, then you do not deserve to stand among us. You are not warriors. You are not my horde. You are nothing." The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of Volk''s words hung heavy in the air, pressing down on each of them like a physical force. The goblins and ogres shifted uncomfortably, their faces a mixture of shame and fear. Finally, one of the older goblins stepped forward hesitantly, his head bowed. "You''re right, Volk," he said quietly. "We''ve let our fear control us. But¡­ it''s not easy. The mist, the silence¡­ it''s unnatural. It gets inside your head. We''re not saying we don''t want to fight. We''re just¡­" "Weak?" Volk finished for him, his tone icy. The goblin flinched but nodded reluctantly. "Well," Volk said, his voice softening slightly but still firm, "then it''s time to stop being weak. Strength isn''t given. It''s earned. And it''s time for you to earn it. We are leaving. Now." The horde hesitated, exchanging uncertain looks, but the fire in Volk''s eyes brooked no argument. Slowly, grudgingly, they began to gather their things. Volk crossed his arms, watching them with a critical eye. "Good. You''re learning. But don''t mistake this for a choice. You either walk out of this cave with me, or you stay here and die alone. The mist doesn''t care about your excuses. And neither do I." With that, he turned sharply on his heel and strode toward the cave''s entrance, his steps purposeful and unyielding. One by one, the members of the horde followed, some muttering under their breath, others silent and resigned. As they stepped into the mist, the oppressive silence outside was like a living thing, wrapping around them and amplifying every creak of armor, every shuffle of feet. The tension was palpable, but they moved forward, united in their fear and determination. Volk led the way, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression hard and unyielding. Behind him, the horde followed, their steps heavy but resolute. They had no choice now. The oppressive silence enveloped them like a suffocating shroud as they trudged forward through the mist. Each step seemed heavier than the last, and though they had left the cave, the world outside felt no less confining. The thick fog swallowed everything in its path, blurring shapes and obscuring distances. What little light filtered through was dim, barely enough to distinguish the forms of their comrades a few paces away. But something felt wrong. The first to voice it was a goblin, his sharp eyes darting nervously around as he whispered, "Why''s it so dark? It was morning when we came out... wasn''t it?" Another goblin stopped in his tracks, furrowing his brow. "Yeah, it should be brighter. The sun should be burning through the mist by now." An ogre, larger and slower to notice, glanced around and muttered, "It''s the mist. Must be blocking out the light." "No," the first goblin said, shaking his head. "This isn''t just the mist. Even if it''s thick, there should be shadows, outlines of something. But it''s like¡­" His voice trailed off, and his gaze dropped to the ground. "It''s like we''re walking in the dark," another finished for him, his voice barely above a whisper. The realization rippled through the group, and soon the horde began murmuring among themselves, their voices filled with growing unease. "Maybe we''ve been walking in circles?" one of them suggested, glancing nervously at the ground. "No, Volk''s leading us straight. He wouldn''t let us get lost," another argued, though his voice carried little conviction. "But then why does it feel like this? Why can''t we see the sun?" Volk, striding ahead, had remained silent throughout their nervous chatter. His piercing eyes scanned the surroundings with a focused intensity that none of the others could match. Unlike the others, he wasn''t muttering theories or second-guessing their steps. He was observing, every fiber of his being tuned to the strange atmosphere around them. And strange it was. It wasn''t just the light¡ªor lack thereof¡ªthat unsettled him. It was the texture of the air, the way it pressed against his skin. The mist no longer seemed to be merely a passive veil of moisture. It felt heavier, denser, almost alive. Every inhale carried with it a faint metallic tang, as though the air itself had turned hostile. "Why is it so quiet?" a goblin suddenly whispered, his voice trembling. "Last night, there were roars, growls, footsteps. Now it''s¡­ nothing. Not even the wind." Another goblin nodded, his ears twitching. "Yeah. No birds. No insects. It''s like¡­" "Like the world''s gone dead," an ogre finished grimly. Volk finally stopped walking, his boots grinding against the damp earth. The silence was absolute now, broken only by the muffled rustling of his horde shifting uneasily behind him. He turned his head slightly, scanning the mist with narrowed eyes. The landscape¡ªor what little of it he could see¡ªoffered no clues. The ground beneath them was solid, but beyond that, it was hard to tell where they were anymore. "I don''t like this," one of the goblins muttered, his hands gripping his makeshift weapon tightly. "None of us do," another replied, his knuckles white around his axe. "No, I mean... I really don''t like this," the first goblin insisted. "Something''s wrong. I can feel it." Volk''s eyes flicked to the ground briefly. The grass, damp and flattened under their feet, seemed normal enough. But when his gaze traveled outward, the boundaries of what they had seen earlier¡ªstones, ridges, distant outlines of trees¡ªhad vanished. The mist had consumed everything. "Spread out," Volk ordered, his voice calm but firm. "Find something¡ªanything. Tracks, markings, anything that tells us where we are." The horde hesitated, exchanging wary glances. "Now!" Volk barked, his tone sharp enough to cut through their hesitation. Reluctantly, they obeyed, fanning out in pairs and searching the immediate area. The goblins, with their sharp eyes, crouched low, scanning the ground for clues. The ogres moved slower, their heavy footfalls barely audible on the soft earth. Minutes passed. The mist seemed to thicken with every breath, clinging to their skin, seeping into their armor. Their movements grew slower, more uncertain, as the oppressive atmosphere weighed on them. "Anything?" Volk called out, his voice slicing through the silence. "Nothing!" came the frustrated reply from a goblin. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Just more mist!" "It''s like the land''s disappeared!" Volk clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting. He could feel the tension in the air, the growing panic among his horde. The mist wasn''t just obscuring their vision¡ªit was eroding their morale. "Keep looking!" he snapped, his voice carrying an edge of irritation. But deep down, even Volk was beginning to feel it. There was something off about this place. Something unnatural. "Volk!" one of the goblins called out suddenly, his voice tinged with alarm. "Over here!" Volk strode toward him, his expression hardening. "What is it?" The goblin pointed to the ground. "The grass¡ªit''s not here anymore." Volk''s eyes narrowed as he crouched down, running his fingers over the earth. The goblin was right. The soft grass that had been underfoot moments ago had disappeared, replaced by barren, rocky soil. "Strange," he muttered under his breath. Another goblin approached, his face pale. "Volk, it''s not just the grass. The stones, the landmarks¡ªthey''re gone too. It''s like... we''re not in the same place anymore." Volk''s gaze snapped upward, scanning the mist once more. His sharp instincts, honed through countless battles, told him that something was amiss. His horde had been moving forward steadily. They couldn''t have lost their way, not this badly. The mist shifted subtly, curling and coiling like a living thing. Volk felt his skin prickle as a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached his ears¡ªa low hum, barely audible, but unmistakably there. His hand tightened on the hilt of his weapon. "Everyone, regroup!" he ordered sharply. The horde quickly complied, their movements hurried and nervous. "What is it?" an ogre asked, his voice low and wary. Volk didn''t answer immediately. His eyes were fixed upward now, scanning the swirling mist above. There was something there, something just beyond his vision. He could feel it. And then, slowly, he raised his head fully, his gaze piercing through the oppressive haze. Chapter 334 - 334: Giant rumbles The mist parted like a curtain, and there it was¡ªa giant. Not just any giant, but a being so massive that it seemed to embody the mountain itself. Its colossal form loomed above them, casting an oppressive shadow that made even the mighty ogres in the horde seem like tiny, insignificant insects. Its torso alone was wider than any cave they had encountered, a wall of rippling muscle and coarse, stone-like flesh. Its head, crowned with jagged horns that scraped against the swirling mist, tilted slightly, as though listening to the very earth beneath its feet. The creature''s breath came in deep, guttural exhalations, each one reverberating like distant thunder. Even from a distance, Volk could feel the sheer weight of its presence, an ancient, primal force that made his instincts scream to retreat. Its eyes, glowing faintly in the dimness, swept across the mist-covered land, seemingly unbothered by the haze that blinded them. "What the hell is that?" a goblin whispered, his voice trembling as he clutched his weapon tightly. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Some kind of mountain spirit?" another guessed, his wide eyes fixed on the creature''s enormous, clawed hands that dragged across the ground, crushing everything in their path. "It''s a giant," one of the ogres rumbled, his voice low with awe. "Bigger than any we''ve ever seen. Bigger than any I''ve ever seen." "Look at it!" a goblin hissed, his voice rising in panic. "Its foot is bigger than an ogre!" The horde murmured nervously, the fear in their ranks palpable. Some instinctively stepped back, others tightened their grip on their weapons, and a few looked to Volk, waiting for his command. "Let''s attack it!" one of the ogres growled, slamming his fist into his palm. "Bring it down before it notices us!" "No," Volk snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. "But Volk!" the ogre protested. "If it sees us, we''re dead anyway! Better to strike first!" "And how, exactly, do you plan to strike it?" Volk spat, his piercing gaze silencing the ogre instantly. "You think your pitiful axe will even scratch it? Look at its legs! You can''t even reach its knees, let alone its chest! Or its head!" The horde fell silent, their bravado quickly fading under Volk''s scathing words. "Fools," Volk muttered under his breath. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. He could feel the faint stirrings of his rage, the energy deep within him that called for release, for destruction. If he transformed into his radioactive form, he might stand a chance. Might. But that wasn''t the problem. Transforming here would draw attention¡ªnot just from the giant, but from whatever else lurked in these cursed mists. And even if he could defeat it, the cost to his horde could be catastrophic. No, brute strength wasn''t the answer. Not here. "Listen to me," Volk said, his voice low but commanding. "We''re not attacking it." "What?" several voices exclaimed at once, disbelief and fear mingling in their tones. "You heard me," Volk growled, his eyes narrowing. "We''re not fighting it. We''re letting it pass." "Let it pass?" a goblin echoed, his voice incredulous. "What if it steps on us?" "Then don''t give it a reason to notice us!" Volk snapped, his glare silencing the goblin. "This isn''t some common beast you can stab or shoot. This is a creature of the mountain¡ªan ancient force. If we make one wrong move, we''re all dead. Do you understand me?" The horde nodded reluctantly, their fear evident in their eyes. "Good," Volk said, his tone brooking no argument. "Now, listen carefully. We move slowly. No sudden movements, no noise. Keep your weapons sheathed. Don''t even breathe too loudly. We stay low, we stay silent, and we let it pass. Got it?" The horde murmured their agreement, though their unease was clear. "I said, got it?" Volk barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through their hesitation. "Yes, Volk!" they replied in unison, though their voices trembled. Satisfied, Volk turned his gaze back to the giant. It hadn''t noticed them yet, its massive form lumbering forward with slow, deliberate steps. Each footfall sent a tremor through the ground, the vibrations rattling their bones. "Move," Volk ordered, his voice low but firm. "Now." The horde began to move, their steps careful and deliberate. The goblins crouched low, their small forms blending into the mist. The ogres, though much larger, moved with surprising grace, their heavy footfalls muffled by the damp ground. Volk led them, his sharp eyes never leaving the giant. He watched its movements carefully, noting the rhythm of its steps, the way its glowing eyes scanned the land. He gestured for the horde to stop whenever the giant''s gaze swept in their direction, and they froze, barely daring to breathe. The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as they crept through the mist, each step a test of their patience and discipline. The giant''s massive form loomed closer and closer, its sheer size making it impossible to ignore. "Volk," a goblin whispered, his voice barely audible. "It''s too close. What if it sees us?" "Then don''t give it a reason to look," Volk replied coldly, his eyes fixed on the giant. The horde continued to move, their hearts pounding in their chests. The giant was so close now that they could see the texture of its skin, the deep cracks and ridges that marked its ancient body. Its breath washed over them, warm and humid, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and stone. "Stay low," Volk whispered, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Stay quiet." The giant paused, its massive head tilting slightly as though listening. The horde froze, their breaths catching in their throats. For a terrifying moment, the creature seemed to focus on them, its glowing eyes narrowing. Volk held up a hand, signaling for them to stay still. The giant sniffed the air, its massive chest rising and falling with each breath. Then, slowly, it turned away, its attention shifting to something in the distance. "Move," Volk whispered urgently. The horde resumed their careful march, their movements slow and deliberate. The giant continued to move away, its massive form disappearing into the mist. When it was finally out of sight, the horde let out a collective sigh of relief. "We did it," a goblin whispered, his voice trembling. "Quiet," Volk snapped, his gaze still fixed on the mist where the giant had disappeared. "We''re not safe yet." The horde nodded, their fear keeping them silent as they continued their careful journey through the mist. As the horde slowly trudged through the oppressive mist, their breathing still unsteady from the nerve-wracking encounter, the tension in the air refused to dissipate. Each step felt like a gamble, the dampness of the mist clinging to their skin like a warning they couldn''t shake. Volk led them cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning the swirling veil around them. Every shadow seemed to shift, every sound felt magnified, as though the mountain itself was watching them. The moment of reprieve was shattered by a low, distant rumble. The sound echoed through the mist, like a landslide rolling down unseen slopes. Volk froze, his hand shooting up in a sharp signal for silence. The horde stopped in their tracks, their eyes wide as they strained to listen. The rumble grew louder, closer. It wasn''t the sound of falling rocks. It was something heavier, deliberate¡ªa rhythm they now recognized. Thud. The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet. Thud. The vibrations grew stronger. Thud. The horde''s collective breath caught as a familiar, towering shape began to emerge from the mist. The giant was returning. The creature''s massive form materialized, its bulk blocking out what little light filtered through the mist. Its glowing eyes pierced the fog, scanning the area with a slow, deliberate intensity. The horde instinctively shrank back, some dropping to their knees in an attempt to make themselves as small as possible. "Stay calm," Volk hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. "No sudden movements." The giant''s gaze swept over them, pausing momentarily. Volk''s hand twitched, ready to signal the horde to scatter if necessary. The creature''s glowing eyes lingered, its head tilting slightly as though it were considering them. The air felt suffocating, the weight of its presence pressing down on them. Each second stretched into an eternity as the horde waited for the inevitable¡ªan attack, a charge, a single step that would crush them where they stood. But the giant didn''t move toward them. Instead, it turned slightly, its massive shoulders brushing against a rocky outcrop as it began to lumber past. Thud. Thud. Thud. Its footsteps reverberated through the ground, each one a reminder of the immense power it wielded. The horde remained frozen, their eyes darting between Volk and the giant, unsure if it was truly ignoring them or merely toying with them. "Keep your heads down," Volk ordered quietly, his voice sharp and commanding. "No noise. Not even a whisper." The horde obeyed, their fear palpable. A goblin crouched so low that his chin almost touched the ground, his trembling hands gripping his dagger as though it could protect him. One of the ogres shifted uneasily, his large frame making him a conspicuous figure despite his best efforts to remain still. The giant continued to move, its massive form disappearing into the mist once more. The horde collectively exhaled, their relief short-lived as Volk''s hand shot up again. "Don''t relax," he growled, his voice low but firm. "It''s not over." The words barely left his mouth before the tremors began again. Thud. Thud. Thud. The horde''s eyes widened in disbelief. The giant was returning once more. "Why is it coming back?" a goblin whispered, his voice trembling. "Quiet!" Volk snapped, his glare silencing the goblin instantly. The giant emerged from the mist again, its glowing eyes sweeping over them as it lumbered closer. The horde pressed themselves against the ground, their hearts pounding in their chests. Volk''s mind raced. Why was it circling them? Was it aware of their presence, or was this some instinctual behavior? His sharp eyes studied the creature''s movements, searching for any clue that might explain its actions. The giant paused, its massive head turning slowly as it sniffed the air. The sound was deep and guttural, like the rumble of an earthquake. The horde held their breath, their muscles tensed as they awaited its next move. Volk''s hand remained steady, signaling them to stay still. He could feel their fear, their desperation to act, to do something¡ªanything¡ªbut he knew that any movement could spell their doom. The giant''s gaze lingered on them again, its glowing eyes narrowing. For a terrifying moment, it seemed as though it might finally attack. Its massive shoulders shifted, and it took a step toward them. Thud. The ground shook violently, the vibrations rattling their bones. A goblin let out a stifled gasp, quickly clamping a hand over his mouth as Volk shot him a warning glare. The giant paused again, its head tilting as though reconsidering. Then, without warning, it turned and began to lumber away, its massive form fading into the mist once more. Volk exhaled slowly, his sharp eyes never leaving the spot where it had disappeared. "Don''t. Move," he commanded, his voice a low growl. The horde remained frozen, their breaths shallow as they waited. The silence stretched on, the tension unbearable. Minutes passed, though it felt like hours, before Volk finally lowered his hand. "Move, quietly," he ordered. "We''re not safe yet." The horde began to creep forward, their movements cautious and deliberate. The fear in their eyes was evident, but they trusted Volk''s leadership. As they moved, the tremors began again. Thud. Thud. Thud. The giant was circling back. Volk gritted his teeth, his sharp mind calculating their next move. They couldn''t keep waiting for it to pass¡ªthey needed to find cover or risk being noticed. "Quiet down!" he hissed, his voice sharp and commanding. "Not a word. Not a sound." The horde obeyed, their fear keeping them silent. The giant loomed closer, its massive form once again emerging from the mist. Volk clenched his fists, his sharp eyes fixed on the creature as it lumbered past. This time, it didn''t pause. It didn''t sniff the air or turn its glowing gaze toward them. It simply passed. As the tremors faded into the distance, Volk allowed himself a brief moment of relief. "Keep moving," he ordered, his voice low but firm. "And stay alert. Anything can happen now." Chapter 335 - 335: Stared at The moment the giant''s colossal silhouette vanished into the swirling mist, leaving nothing but the faint tremors fading into the distance, the horde froze. For several seconds, the eerie quiet pressed down on them, heavy and suffocating. Then, like a dam breaking, the tension shattered. A goblin suddenly leapt to his feet, his face breaking into a wide grin. "It''s gone!" he yelled, his high-pitched voice ringing out. "It didn''t notice us!" The declaration spread like wildfire. Another goblin cheered, his gnarled hands clapping together with giddy excitement. One of the orcs let out a bellowing laugh, slapping his massive thigh in disbelief. Even the stoic ogres exchanged glances, their tense postures relaxing as their lips curled into faint, toothy smirks. "We did it!" shouted another goblin, his small frame bouncing with energy. "It just walked away!" A wave of exhilaration swept through the group. The oppressive weight of fear was gone, replaced by a dizzying sense of triumph. They had survived. Against a creature so massive, so impossibly large that the ogres had seemed like toddlers in comparison, they had stayed still, silent, and unseen. And now, it was over. One by one, the horde erupted into celebration. The goblins darted around, their sharp voices overlapping in excited chatter. "Did you see how it didn''t even look at us?" "I thought it was going to squash me flat!" "Volk''s the smartest leader ever!" An orc roared with laughter, grabbing a goblin by the scruff of his neck and spinning him in circles. The goblin squealed in protest before dissolving into laughter, his stubby arms flailing. One of the ogres leaned back against a jagged boulder, his enormous chest heaving as he let out a booming laugh. "Ha! That thing was big, but it''s nothing compared to us!" Another ogre joined in, pounding his fist against his chest. "We''re the strongest horde alive! Nothing can stop us!" Volk, standing at the front of the group, crossed his arms and watched the scene unfold. His piercing gaze softened slightly as he allowed himself a small smirk. The energy of the horde was infectious, their joy palpable. For a moment, even he felt a flicker of pride. "Hey, did you see Volk?" one goblin exclaimed, pointing at their leader. "He didn''t even flinch when the giant came back!" "Of course he didn''t," another goblin said, puffing out his chest. "Volk isn''t scared of anything!" "Volk!" an orc bellowed, his voice cutting through the noise. "You''re a genius! That whole ''don''t move'' thing? Brilliant!" The horde cheered in agreement, their voices echoing through the misty terrain. Volk raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Genius, huh?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "More like common sense." The celebration continued to escalate. A goblin climbed onto an orc''s shoulders, waving his dagger in the air like a banner. "We''re unstoppable!" he yelled. "Even giants can''t scare us!" The orc laughed, spinning around in circles as the goblin held on for dear life. Nearby, another goblin attempted to climb onto an ogre''s back, only to be swatted away with a grunt of annoyance. "We should make a song about this!" one goblin declared, clapping his hands together. "The Ballad of the Silent Horde!" "Ballad?" an orc snorted. "More like the Tale of the Unseen Warriors!" The horde burst into laughter, their voices mingling with the distant hum of the mist. The oppressive atmosphere that had hung over them for so long was forgotten, replaced by an almost childlike glee. Volk sighed, shaking his head as he watched the chaos. "You fools act like we''ve already won," he muttered, though his tone lacked its usual edge. Despite himself, he couldn''t suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips. A goblin ran up to him, his eyes shining with excitement. "Volk, Volk! You were amazing back there! How did you know it wouldn''t attack us?" S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "I didn''t," Volk replied bluntly, crossing his arms. "It was a gamble." The goblin stared at him, his mouth falling open. "A gamble?!" "What, you think I''ve got all the answers?" Volk shot back, though his tone was more teasing than harsh. The goblin scratched his head, his expression shifting from awe to confusion. "Well... it worked, so who cares?" "Exactly," Volk said with a smirk. As the goblin scampered off to rejoin the others, Volk turned his gaze back to the horizon. The mist still swirled around them, thick and unyielding. Despite the horde''s celebrations, the unease in his gut hadn''t entirely disappeared. The laughter and chatter of the horde reached a fever pitch, their voices echoing like a triumphant chorus. But just as the noise reached its peak, a deep, low rumble cut through the air. The horde froze. The sound grew louder, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet. Volk''s smile vanished, his sharp eyes narrowing as he scanned the mist. The ground beneath their feet began to quiver, a faint tremor at first, almost indistinguishable from the echoes of their laughter. One of the goblins paused mid-cheer, his ears twitching as he glanced at the ground. "Did you feel that?" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the jubilant noise of the horde. Another tremor followed, this one stronger, making loose stones skitter across the ground. A goblin lost his footing and fell backward, his gleeful expression shifting into confusion. "What''s going on?" Before anyone could answer, the trembling grew more intense. The horde''s celebratory voices began to waver, replaced by murmurs of unease. The once-lighthearted laughter faded, swallowed by a deep, resonant rumble that seemed to rise from the depths of the earth itself. The ogres glanced at each other, their massive frames swaying slightly as the vibrations traveled upward. One of them grunted, gripping the hilt of his weapon tightly. "Something''s not right." The orcs, ever vigilant, instinctively reached for their blades, their sharp eyes darting around the misty terrain. The goblins, always more expressive, clung to each other, their chatter now filled with panic rather than excitement. The rumble grew louder, deeper, and more ominous, as if the entire mountain range was groaning under some colossal weight. It wasn''t just the sound¡ªit was the feeling of it, a vibration that seemed to crawl up their spines and settle in their chests. Every heartbeat felt like it was in sync with the earth''s trembling. Volk stood at the front, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon. His instincts screamed at him that something was coming, something far worse than the giant they had narrowly avoided earlier. "Quiet!" he barked, his voice cutting through the rising panic. But the horde was already losing their composure. The goblins yelped, their wide eyes darting around as they backed away from the epicenter of the vibrations. The orcs, usually stoic, shifted uneasily, their fingers tightening around their weapons. Even the ogres, who rarely showed fear, exchanged worried glances. The rumbling intensified, now accompanied by a strange, grinding noise that sounded like boulders being dragged against each other. The air grew heavy, almost suffocating, as if the very atmosphere was pressing down on them. "Is it an earthquake?" one of the goblins squeaked, his voice trembling. "Earthquakes don''t make noises like this," an orc replied, his deep voice laced with tension. The sound grew louder still, an all-encompassing cacophony that drowned out even their thoughts. It was as if the mountain itself was alive, groaning and roaring in fury. The ground shook violently now, cracks forming in the rocky terrain beneath their feet. Dust and debris fell from above, creating a choking haze that mingled with the ever-present mist. "Volk!" one of the goblins cried, clutching at his leader''s arm. "What''s happening?!" "Stand your ground!" Volk snapped, though his own eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. The rumble reached a deafening crescendo, so loud it felt like their eardrums might burst. The entire world seemed to vibrate with the sheer force of it. Rocks tumbled from the surrounding cliffs, and the mist swirled in chaotic patterns, as if reacting to the disturbance. And then, as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped. The silence that followed was absolute, almost unnatural. The horde stood frozen, their breath held as they waited for whatever came next. The only sound was the faint rustling of the mist, curling and twisting around them like a living thing. Volk''s eyes darted around, his instincts screaming at him that the danger wasn''t over. His gaze shifted upward, scanning the mist-shrouded peaks of the mountain. And then they saw it. Emerging from the swirling mist like a phantom, the giant returned. Its massive form towered over them, even more imposing than they had remembered. Its upper body loomed high above, its head turning slowly as if searching for something¡ªor someone. The horde''s collective breath hitched as the giant''s glowing eyes locked onto them. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint whistle of the wind. It didn''t move. It didn''t roar. It simply stared. Volk''s jaw tightened as he met the creature''s gaze, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his blade. "No one move," he whispered, his voice low but commanding. The giant tilted its head, its glowing eyes narrowing slightly. And then, with deliberate slowness, it changed its expression. Chapter 336 - 336: The giants roar The giant before them inhaled deeply, its massive chest expanding like a mountain preparing to collapse. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, it unleashed a deafening roar. ROOOOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! The sound wasn''t just loud¡ªit was cataclysmic, a force of nature that struck them like a hurricane made of noise. The air itself seemed to shatter, vibrating with a power that pressed against their chests and rattled their skulls. The mist around them swirled violently, dispersing for an instant before being sucked back in by the sheer force of the roar. The goblins were the first to fall. Their sensitive ears betrayed them, their small bodies convulsing as they screamed in pain. "Aaaaaahhhhhh! It hurts! It hurtsssss!" one goblin shrieked, clutching his ears and stumbling backward. "Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!" another wailed, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his face. "We''re gonna die! We''re gonna diiiiieeeeee!" a third cried, collapsing onto his knees before crumpling entirely, his face contorted in agony. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. One by one, the goblins dropped like leaves in a storm. Some clawed at their ears, desperate to block out the sound, while others curled into fetal positions, their high-pitched cries drowned out by the giant''s roar. The orcs, larger and sturdier, fared only slightly better. At first, they gritted their teeth and growled, trying to resist the overwhelming sound. "Gaaaaaahhh! What is this devilry?!" one bellowed, his voice trembling under the weight of the sound. "Stand firm! We''re orcs! We¡ªaaaarrghhh!" another tried to rally, only to collapse to his knees as blood trickled from his ears. "Volk! What do we¡ªaaaahhhh! Volk!" one shouted, his face twisted in anguish before he too toppled over, his massive hands clasped tightly over his ears. The orcs fell slowly, each letting out guttural groans and cries that echoed through the chaos. Their muscular frames shuddered as they writhed on the ground, the pain too much even for their formidable bodies. And then, the ogres began to falter. Their deep, rumbling voices boomed as they tried to fight back against the sound. "Graaahhhhh! What¡­ what is this¡­?!" one roared, his voice breaking as he staggered backward. "My head! My HEAD!" another bellowed, pounding his fists into the ground as if trying to anchor himself. "We can''t¡­ we can''t¡­ noooo!" a third groaned, his massive hands gripping his skull as he sank to his knees. The ogres fell last, their immense frames collapsing like felled trees. Even as they lay on the ground, their fingers dug into the dirt, their roars of defiance turning into moans of defeat. "Volk¡­" one managed to mutter weakly, his voice trembling as he glanced up at their leader with desperate, pain-filled eyes. "What do we¡­ do¡­?" Everywhere Volk looked, his horde was in chaos. The goblins lay crumpled, their small bodies shaking as they whimpered in pain. The orcs were on their hands and knees, their fierce expressions twisted into masks of torment. The ogres, the strongest among them, were sprawled on the ground, their booming voices reduced to pained groans. Even as they fell, most of them kept their hands clamped over their ears, their faces contorted as if the roar was drilling into their very souls. Blood seeped from the ears of some, a stark reminder of the sheer power of the sound. Volk stood in the midst of it all, his own ears ringing, his vision slightly blurred from the pressure. But he didn''t move, didn''t falter. His gaze locked onto the giant, whose glowing eyes burned with a primal fury. "Hold on¡­" Volk muttered under his breath, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He could feel the weight of his horde''s pain, their suffering pressing down on him like a mountain. And yet, he stood firm, defiant in the face of the impossible. The giant''s roar finally began to fade, the sound dissipating into the mist like a storm retreating into the distance. But the damage had been done. The horde lay scattered and broken, their cries and groans the only sounds now filling the void left by the roar. Volk''s jaw tightened as he surveyed the scene, his heart pounding with a mixture of rage and determination. His horde was down, but they weren''t out. Not yet. The giant inhaled once more, its chest swelling like a vast, unyielding balloon of destruction. For a brief, horrifying moment, everything was still¡ªtime itself seemed to pause, the mist curling unnaturally around its massive form. Then it released another deafening roar. ROOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! The earth trembled violently beneath the horde, the sound ripping through the air like a tidal wave of pure agony. The pressure was unbearable, a physical force that slammed into them, shattering any hope of resistance. The goblins were the first to succumb again. "AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! NOT AGAIN!" one shrieked, clutching his head so tightly it seemed like he was trying to crush his own skull. "It''s killing us! It''s¡ªgaaahhh!" another wailed before falling flat on his face, twitching as blood streamed from his ears. "We can''t¡ªhelp¡ªaaaahhhh!" a third stammered, his tiny hands clawing at the dirt before collapsing in a heap. Their high-pitched screams echoed pitifully against the relentless roar. Their faces were pale, their small frames trembling as blood trickled not just from their ears but also from their noses and mouths. The orcs, who had barely managed to rise after the first roar, faltered once more. "No¡­ not again! NOOO!" one bellowed, his deep voice cracking as he fell to his knees, his hands futilely clamping over his ears. "My ears¡­ my head¡­ it''s¡­ bursting!" another growled, his face contorted in raw agony as blood began to seep from his eyes. "Volk! We can''t¡ªaarghhh! We can''t take this!" one shouted desperately before slamming his fist into the ground, the impact doing nothing to alleviate his suffering. The orcs'' groans and cries mixed with the goblins'' screams, creating a symphony of torment. Their larger bodies shuddered violently, their faces twisted in expressions of pain and terror as blood flowed freely from every orifice. Even the mighty ogres, who had managed to remain upright moments ago, could no longer withstand the onslaught. "This¡­ is¡­ impossible!" one rumbled, his voice breaking as he staggered backward, his immense hands gripping his head. "My body¡­ feels¡­ like it''s¡­ tearing apart!" another groaned, his knees buckling before he collapsed heavily onto the ground. "VOLK! DO SOMETHING!" a third roared, his booming voice filled with desperation as blood began to drip from his massive tusks. The ogres fell like great, crumbling mountains, their enormous frames writhing in agony. Their deep, guttural cries echoed painfully as they pressed their heads to the ground, as though seeking some escape from the unrelenting roar. Volk, standing amidst the chaos, felt his ears ringing again, his vision blurring. He remained on his feet, but he could feel the giant''s roar pressing down on him like an iron fist, the vibrations rattling his very bones. But something about this second roar felt¡­ different. "Why is it roaring again?" Volk muttered under his breath, his sharp eyes narrowing as he focused on the massive creature. "It could''ve attacked by now. Why¡ª" His thought was cut short as he heard a chilling sound¡ªwet, gurgling noises coming from the fallen horde. He turned his gaze to them, his eyes widening in shock. The goblins'' small mouths were open, their cries of pain now mixed with blood that poured from their lips. "It''s¡­ inside me! It''s¡ªackkk!" one sputtered, choking as crimson dripped from his chin. "My¡­ my eyes!" another goblin screamed, clawing at his face as blood streamed from his eye sockets, painting his green skin red. The orcs were no better. Blood flowed from their ears, noses, and mouths in a horrific torrent. "It''s¡­ tearing us apart from the inside!" one orc gasped, his hands trembling as he reached out toward Volk. "I can''t¡­ I can''t see!" another groaned, his eyes bloodshot and leaking scarlet tears. The ogres'' suffering was equally terrible. "My chest¡­ it feels like it''s exploding!" one rumbled, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. "VOLK! WE''RE¡­ DYING!" another bellowed, his deep voice breaking into a desperate, pitiful wail as blood poured from his ears and nostrils. Volk''s heart pounded as he surveyed the gruesome scene. His horde¡ªhis warriors¡ªlay in ruin, writhing in agony as their bodies betrayed them. Blood painted the ground beneath them, pooling in dark, glistening puddles. Their cries of pain, once so defiant, were now weak and pleading. The roar finally died down, leaving behind an eerie silence broken only by the labored, blood-choked breaths of the fallen horde. And then, as one, they all turned their gazes to Volk. "Volk¡­ what do we do now?" one goblin asked weakly, his voice trembling with fear. "Leader¡­ save us¡­" an orc groaned, his bloodied hand reaching out. "Tell us¡­ tell us what to do¡­" an ogre rumbled, his massive body shuddering as he struggled to stay conscious. All their eyes¡ªred-rimmed, bloodshot, and filled with desperation¡ªwere on him. Their pain, their terror, their fading hope¡ªthey placed it all in Volk''s hands. And for the first time, Volk felt the full weight of what it meant to lead. Chapter 337 - 337: Too easy The giant opened its colossal mouth again, the maw stretching wide enough to swallow mountains, and then it roared¡ªa sound so deafening that it felt like the world itself would split apart. ROOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! The air trembled violently, the ground beneath their feet cracked open in jagged fissures, and the sky seemed to ripple as if the roar were tearing through reality itself. Volk braced himself instinctively, his feet digging into the trembling earth, but around him, the scene descended into chaos once more. The goblins screamed first, their high-pitched wails barely audible over the overwhelming force of the roar. "Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!" one shrieked, collapsing to his knees with his small hands desperately clawing at his ears. "My head! My head is going to explode!" another wailed, his body convulsing violently as blood sprayed from his ears. "It''s worse! It''s worse this time!" a third managed to cry out before he fell flat on his face, twitching, his green skin now pale and drenched in blood. The orcs fared little better. Their larger frames shook uncontrollably, their muscles failing them under the oppressive force of the sound. "It''s killing us!" one bellowed, his deep voice breaking into a guttural moan as he toppled over, blood trickling from his eyes. "My ears! My body! I can''t take this!" another growled, his massive hands clutching his head in desperation. "VOLK! HELP US! DO SOMETHING!" a third roared before collapsing to his knees, blood pouring from his nose and mouth in thick rivulets. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The ogres, mighty and steadfast, were beginning to falter now. Their deep voices turned into pitiful groans, their hulking bodies buckling under the invisible weight of the sound. "Is this¡­ the end for us?" one rumbled weakly, his voice trembling as blood oozed from the corners of his eyes. "Leader! We''re¡­ we''re dying!" another bellowed, his massive frame shuddering violently before crashing to the ground like a felled tree. "VOLK! TELL US WHAT TO DO!" a third cried out, his booming voice filled with desperation as he clawed at the ground, his massive tusks stained crimson. Blood was everywhere now, pooling around their fallen bodies, painting the ground in dark streaks of red. Goblins clutched at their heads, orcs writhed in pain, and ogres lay motionless, their labored breaths the only sign they were still alive. Volk stood amidst the devastation, his mind racing. What could he do? His horde¡ªhis warriors¡ªwere falling one by one. Each of their cries of agony stabbed at his soul like a blade, and the guilt was unbearable. For the first time in his life, Volk didn''t have an answer. One goblin turned his bloodied face toward Volk, his wide, terrified eyes filled with tears. "Leader¡­ why aren''t you helping us?" "Why can''t you save us?" another groaned, his voice filled with betrayal. "VOLK! SAY SOMETHING!" an orc bellowed, his blood-soaked hand reaching out toward him before slumping to the ground. The cries of his horde grew fainter as one by one they succumbed to the force of the roar. The air grew heavy with despair. For a moment, even Volk felt the crushing weight of hopelessness pressing down on him. This was it. They were all going to die here. The giant roared again, the sound growing even more violent, more unforgiving. The ground shook harder, cracks spreading further and deeper. Volk''s sharp eyes caught the horrifying sight of blood erupting from the ears and eyes of the goblins closest to him. "AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" one screamed as his head fell forward, his body twitching violently before going limp. "LEADER! IT''S OVER!" another goblin shrieked before collapsing, his small frame shivering before it went still. The orcs groaned in unison, their massive bodies convulsing on the ground. "It''s too much¡­ we''re going to die!" one grunted, blood pooling beneath his head. "We trusted you, Volk¡­ and now¡ª" another started to say before his voice broke into a choked sob, his body going limp. Even the mighty ogres were succumbing. "This can''t¡­ be happening¡­" one rumbled weakly, his voice cracking as his hulking frame shuddered. "We can''t survive this¡­" another groaned before falling silent, his massive body unmoving. Volk''s heart pounded as he stood in the middle of this nightmare. The roar continued, but Volk¡­ wasn''t falling. Why? His sharp mind latched onto the oddity. The sound was deafening, the pressure unbearable, yet he was still standing. His ears weren''t bleeding, his body wasn''t shaking. He blinked, momentarily stunned by the realization. "Why am I¡­ fine?" he muttered to himself, his eyes darting around the battlefield of his fallen horde. The realization began to spark something in him¡ªa question, an idea, a hope. As the roar finally began to die down, the horde turned their bloodied, tear-streaked faces to him once more. Despite their pain and fear, their eyes pleaded with him for guidance. "Volk¡­" one orc croaked weakly. "What¡­ do we do now?" "Leader¡­ save us¡­" an ogre rumbled, his voice barely audible. Volk''s eyes narrowed as his mind raced. There had to be a reason he wasn''t affected. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. Whatever the answer was, he was going to find it. For his horde, for their survival. He wasn''t going to let them die here. Not like this. The battlefield was a cacophony of agony and despair. Volk stood at the center of it all, the unyielding pillar in a sea of suffering. The roars of the mist giant had subsided, but their echoes lingered in the air like a haunting melody. Around him, the members of his horde clung desperately to life. Their cries for salvation, their pitiful pleas for help, reverberated in his ears. "Leader... Volk..." croaked a goblin whose frail, green body was twisted unnaturally on the ground. Blood dripped from his ears, pooling beneath him. His small hand reached out, trembling as though grasping for something¡ªanything¡ªthat could save him. His wide, bulging eyes stared at Volk with a mixture of fear, pain, and betrayal. "Why aren''t you... doing... something?" Nearby, an orc groaned, his massive frame convulsing violently. His tusks were slick with blood, and thick rivulets of crimson ran down his face from his eyes and ears. "Leader... it hurts... it hurts so much... why... why is this happening to us?" His voice was ragged, filled with desperation as he clawed at his own chest, as though trying to rip the pain out of his very soul. The ogres, once indomitable titans of the horde, were reduced to groaning heaps of muscle and misery. One of them, his colossal hand clutching his head, let out a guttural cry. "Volk! Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!" His voice was a thunderous boom, but it carried no strength¡ªonly helplessness. His knees buckled, and he fell forward, his head smashing into the ground with a sickening thud. Blood poured from his ears like a waterfall, staining the earth beneath him. Volk''s sharp gaze darted from one fallen warrior to the next. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He felt something gnawing at him, an invisible weight pressing down on his chest. His heart pounded in his ears, but it wasn''t fear¡ªno, Volk had long since abandoned fear. It was something else, something he couldn''t place. As more members of his horde succumbed to the invisible force, Volk''s unease grew. There was something off about all of this. The giant... its roars were devastating, yes, but was that it? Was that all it took to dismantle his mighty horde? The realization hit him like a blade to the gut. It was too easy. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the battlefield. Goblins, orcs, ogres¡ªall of them were collapsing one by one, their bodies writhing in pain before finally going still. He watched as the life drained from their eyes, their final gasps escaping their lips. It was horrifying, yes, but it was also... wrong. "Why... why is it so easy?" Volk muttered to himself, his voice low and filled with suspicion. His eyes darted toward the mist giant, which stood motionless now, its towering form shrouded in the oppressive fog. The giant made no move to attack, no sign of aggression. It simply loomed over them, a silent sentinel. More of his horde fell. A goblin let out a final, pitiful cry before his body went limp. An orc groaned deeply, his voice breaking as his massive frame crumpled to the ground. An ogre, the last of the titans, let out a thunderous bellow that quickly turned into a gurgle as blood poured from his mouth. Volk clenched his teeth, his frustration boiling over. "No... no, this doesn''t make sense. It''s too easy! It''s too¡ª" His voice caught in his throat as the last of his horde collapsed. All of them, silent and still, their bodies strewn across the battlefield like broken dolls. The silence that followed was deafening. Volk stood alone now, the only one left standing. His chest heaved with anger and confusion. "This isn''t right... this isn''t real..." he muttered, his sharp eyes narrowing as he turned his gaze back toward the mist giant. But then, something changed. The air grew colder, heavier. Volk''s sharp instincts screamed at him, warning him of danger. He felt a presence¡ªa dark, malevolent presence¡ªthat made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Slowly, he turned his head. And then he saw it. A creature stood before him, its form shrouded in shadow and mist. It was massive, its grotesque body supported by eight long, spindly legs that seemed to blend seamlessly with the fog around it. Its face¡ªif it could even be called that¡ªwas an unholy amalgamation of sharp mandibles and glowing, soulless eyes that bore into Volk''s very soul. Volk''s breath hitched. His fists clenched tighter as he stared at the monstrous being. The mist swirled around it, as though it were a part of the creature itself. And then, in the suffocating silence, Volk opened his mouth to speak¡ªbut no words came out. He stood frozen, his mind racing, as the eight-legged monstrosity loomed over him, its many eyes glinting with a sinister intelligence. Chapter 338 - 338: Web The realization struck Volk like a thunderclap, freezing him in place. His sharp gaze darted over his surroundings, and the mist that had seemed so endless began to shift, revealing threads of a glistening, sticky substance that crisscrossed the air. It wasn''t just mist. It was a web¡ªan enormous, sprawling web. His breath caught as he finally understood: they had walked into a trap the moment they entered the cave. The sounds of the mist, the roars of distant creatures, even the oppressive silence¡ªit had all been a fa?ade, a sinister orchestration of illusions meant to disorient and corral them like prey. The spider''s lair wasn''t just the cave; it was the entire mist-shrouded mountain. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s eyes dropped to his arms, and his stomach churned. His muscular frame was tightly bound in layers of silken thread. The webbing was translucent yet strangely alive, shimmering faintly as it clung to him like a second skin. Every movement he made caused it to constrict further, its tensile strength pressing against his flesh like iron bands. His shoulders tensed, and his mind raced. "No... no, this can''t be!" Volk growled, his voice a low rumble filled with anger and disbelief. He strained against the bindings, his muscles bulging as he tried to rip himself free. Veins popped along his forearms and neck, and his teeth clenched so hard it felt as though they might shatter. "Break!" he snarled, twisting and turning with all the strength he could muster. The threads groaned slightly under the pressure, but they didn''t snap. Instead, they seemed to tighten further, constricting his movements more. The spider silk dug into his skin, unyielding and suffocating. Volk''s breathing grew ragged. Sweat beaded on his brow and dripped down his temples as he threw his entire body into the struggle. His mind burned with rage. He was Volk! The leader of the horde! A being who had faced countless battles and conquered every obstacle! And now, he was bound like an insect, helpless and exposed. "YOU WON''T HOLD ME!" Volk bellowed, his voice echoing through the misty expanse. He twisted his torso violently, trying to create leverage. The webbing creaked, the sound teasing him with the promise of a break¡ªbut it was a cruel lie. He slammed his feet into the ground, attempting to anchor himself and pull with his upper body. The force caused his muscles to ripple like waves, his raw strength manifesting in every fiber of his being. He let out a guttural roar of defiance as he strained harder, harder, harder! The air around him seemed to tremble with his effort. Yet, the webbing held firm. It wasn''t just strong; it was unnatural. Volk''s sharp instincts screamed at him that this wasn''t ordinary spider silk. This was something far more sinister, imbued with an otherworldly resilience. "Come on!" Volk growled, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. His claws extended, digging into the silk, but even their razor-sharp edges couldn''t pierce it. His arms trembled, his strength faltering as exhaustion began to creep in. He threw his head back and roared again, his defiance echoing through the mist. He wasn''t just fighting the web; he was fighting the crushing realization that, for the first time in a long time, he was powerless. And yet, the web refused to yield. Volk''s breaths came in ragged gasps now, his powerful chest heaving as he paused for a brief moment, his mind racing. He couldn''t break it, couldn''t overpower it. His arms felt like lead, his legs trembling under the strain. For the first time, he was forced to confront the undeniable truth: he couldn''t win this battle with strength alone. As the thought struck him, he froze, his head tilting downward. His sharp eyes scanned the webbing binding him, the glistening threads that shimmered faintly in the dim light. And then, like a dagger to the heart, the final, most chilling realization hit him. The webbing wasn''t just around his body¡ªit was inside him. He could feel it now, threads of the same sticky material running through his veins, his muscles, even his thoughts. His struggle had been futile from the start. Volk''s lips parted in a low, guttural growl, but the sound was laced with a rare and bitter emotion: doubt. "I... can''t..." he muttered under his breath, the words foreign and venomous to him. He tilted his head upward, and there it was¡ªthe eight-legged monstrosity looming above him. Its soulless eyes glittered with malevolent amusement as if mocking his futile efforts. It had been watching the entire time, letting him struggle, letting him fight against the inevitable. Volk stared at the creature, his jaw tightening as fury boiled in his chest. But for the first time, it was accompanied by a dark, gnawing sensation he hadn''t felt in years. Helplessness. Volk''s muscles strained once more as he roared with defiance, every fiber of his being screaming against the unyielding web. Sweat poured down his body, mixing with the faint glow of his skin under the misty light. His veins bulged, his claws scratching furiously at the unrelenting threads. His growl reverberated through the air, but it felt as though the webbing only mocked him, refusing to yield despite his monstrous strength. "Come on!" Volk bellowed, his voice breaking with the raw intensity of his exertion. His massive frame shook, and his legs stomped against the ground, creating small tremors. He twisted, pulled, jerked¡ªevery motion was a desperate attempt to find even the slightest weakness in his bonds. For a moment, his struggles paused. He glared at the spider perched above him. Its grotesque form, a nightmarish amalgamation of fur, fangs, and shimmering eyes, loomed over him with silent amusement. It was waiting, letting him waste his energy, savoring his defiance. "No," Volk growled, his teeth grinding. "You don''t get to win!" His focus returned to the web. He bent forward, his claws scratching at the threads around his left arm. Rip! Tear! Snap! He imagined the web breaking under his might. His claws pressed deeper, and though the silk flexed slightly, it remained unbroken. The faint stickiness on his claws only added to his frustration. With renewed vigor, Volk arched backward, pulling his shoulders with such force that the sinews in his neck stretched taut. His roars shook the cavern, the echoes bouncing back as though mocking him. "I won''t stay trapped!" His eyes burned with determination as he redoubled his efforts, jerking his torso and thrashing his legs against the oppressive hold of the web. Minutes felt like hours as he pushed himself to his limits. His claws chipped against the silk, his muscles screamed for rest, and yet he refused to give up. "Break!" he yelled, his voice trembling under the weight of his anger and desperation. Suddenly, the spider shifted. Its hulking form descended slightly, its massive legs clicking against the silken strands with an ominous rhythm. Volk''s breathing hitched as he felt its eyes lock onto him. The beast had grown bored of waiting. The spider moved closer, each step deliberate and heavy, causing faint vibrations to ripple through the webbing. Its fangs glistened, dripping with venom that hissed faintly as it touched the threads below. Volk''s heart pounded like a war drum, but his growl only deepened. He wasn''t afraid¡ªhe was enraged. As the spider loomed closer, Volk thrashed even harder. His entire body twisted, his arms pulling with ferocious strength, his legs kicking furiously. "Come on!" he roared, his voice raw with desperation and fury. The silk groaned under his relentless assault, but it still didn''t give. Your next chapter awaits on My Virtual Library Empire The spider''s grotesque head dipped lower. Its multifaceted eyes reflected Volk''s struggling form, its mandibles clicking with eager anticipation. It opened its mouth, revealing curved fangs that gleamed with venom. "NO!" Volk roared, his voice booming like thunder. His left arm jerked violently, and this time, something shifted. The web around his wrist began to fray, the tension loosening ever so slightly. Volk felt it and redoubled his efforts, yanking and twisting until, with a loud snap, his left arm broke free. Time seemed to slow as Volk stared at his liberated hand. His claws flexed, and a savage grin spread across his face. The spider lunged, its fangs descending toward him, but Volk was faster. He swung his free hand upward with all his might, slamming his clawed fist directly into the spider''s grotesque face. CRACK! The impact sent shockwaves through the creature''s massive body, forcing it to rear back with a deafening screech. Volk didn''t waste a second. His freed hand clawed at the silk binding his torso, tearing at it with relentless fervor. The webbing resisted, but with his immense strength now focused on one side, it began to give way. The spider, recovering from the blow, lunged at him again. Volk ducked his head and slammed his shoulder forward, ramming into the creature''s face. The force sent it skittering backward, its massive legs thrashing wildly. "You''re not the hunter here," Volk snarled, his voice a low, menacing growl. "You''re the prey!" With one arm free, he fought with the ferocity of a cornered beast. His claws ripped at the webbing while he simultaneously defended himself from the spider''s relentless assaults. Each time it lunged, Volk met it with a devastating punch or swipe, forcing it to retreat momentarily. The webbing continued to tear under his assault, and the silk around his right arm began to fray. The tension in the air was palpable, the spider growing more desperate as Volk''s strength proved to be far greater than it had anticipated. Finally, with a feral roar, Volk wrenched his body forward. RIP! The web around his torso tore apart, freeing his other arm. His claws flexed, and his grin widened. Now it was time for the real fight. Chapter 339 - 339: Binded The cavern trembled as Volk stood tall, both arms free at last, his massive claws flexing with anticipation. The air was thick with tension, the mist swirling eerily around him and the monstrous spider. Its multiple eyes gleamed, reflecting the faint light filtering through the silken lair, and its mandibles clicked menacingly. The beast hissed, a sound that reverberated through the chamber, vibrating the webbed walls and stirring the air like the growl of a storm. Volk rolled his shoulders, feeling the stiffness in his muscles dissipate as adrenaline surged through him. "You wanted a fight," he growled, his deep voice echoing in the cave. "Now you''ve got one." The spider moved first. Its massive legs shot forward, each step a thunderous quake against the silken ground. Volk braced himself as the creature lunged, its fangs glistening with venom, aiming directly for his chest. With lightning reflexes, Volk sidestepped the attack, his boots grinding against the sticky webbing beneath him. He twisted his body and swung his clawed hand upward in a wide arc. SLASH! The impact sent a spray of ichor into the air as his claws carved into the spider''s thick exoskeleton. The beast screeched, a piercing sound that made the cavern tremble. It reared back, its front legs flailing wildly, trying to swipe at Volk. He ducked under one leg and rolled forward, slamming his shoulder into the spider''s body with the force of a battering ram. The spider stumbled, its massive form crashing against the webbed walls. Silken threads tore and snapped as Volk pressed his advantage. He leaped onto the creature''s back, his claws digging into the hard shell for leverage. The spider thrashed violently, trying to dislodge him, but Volk held on, his muscles straining against the beast''s wild movements. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Not so tough now, are you?" Volk roared, slamming his fists into the spider''s carapace repeatedly. BAM! BAM! BAM! Each strike reverberated through the cavern, sending shockwaves through the creature''s body. Cracks began to form on its armor, faint lines spreading like spiderwebs across its surface. The spider shrieked again, its mandibles snapping furiously as it twisted its massive body. With a sudden burst of strength, it reared up on its hind legs, throwing Volk off balance. He tumbled to the ground, landing hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him. The spider wasted no time. It lunged forward, its fangs aimed straight for his throat. Volk rolled to the side just in time, the venomous fangs burying themselves in the ground where he had been moments before. He kicked upward with both legs, slamming his boots into the spider''s face. The creature recoiled, ichor dripping from its mouth. Volk sprang to his feet, his breath coming in heavy pants. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the creature. It was fast, strong, and relentless. But Volk was faster, stronger, and far more relentless. The spider charged again, its legs pounding the ground like war drums. Volk met it head-on, his claws slashing through the air with blinding speed. CLANG! CLASH! SLASH! The sound of claws against exoskeleton echoed through the cave as the two titans clashed. One of the spider''s legs shot out, aiming to skewer Volk. He caught it mid-strike, his massive hands gripping the segmented limb. With a roar, he twisted and pulled, the sickening sound of chitin snapping filling the air. The spider screeched in agony as Volk tore the leg clean off and threw it aside. "How does that feel?" Volk snarled, his voice dripping with savage glee. The spider staggered, its balance compromised. But it wasn''t done yet. It reared back and shot a thick stream of webbing from its spinnerets, aiming to ensnare Volk once more. He dodged to the side, the webbing splattering against the wall in a sticky mess. Volk seized the opportunity, charging forward with a roar. He leaped into the air, his claws glowing faintly with the energy coursing through his body. He brought both hands down in a powerful double strike. CRUNCH! His claws sank deep into the spider''s head, sending cracks spiderwebbing (ironically) across its surface. The creature thrashed wildly, its legs flailing in all directions. Volk was thrown backward, skidding across the ground, but he quickly recovered, pushing himself to his feet. The spider hissed, its movements more erratic now, the pain clearly taking its toll. Volk grinned, wiping a smear of ichor from his face. "You''re not looking so good," he taunted, his voice laced with mocking confidence. The spider lunged again, its movements slower but no less ferocious. Volk ducked under its snapping mandibles, his claws raking across its underbelly. A fresh spray of ichor splattered the ground, the thick liquid hissing as it burned through the webbing. The creature staggered, its legs trembling as it struggled to stay upright. Volk circled it like a predator stalking wounded prey, his eyes gleaming with savage satisfaction. "Is that all you''ve got?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "I thought you were supposed to be a nightmare." The spider let out one final screech, its body quaking as it prepared for a desperate last stand. Volk braced himself, his claws flexing as he prepared to deliver the finishing blow. Volk stood over the crumpled form of the spider, his chest heaving, his claws dripping with its dark ichor. He smirked, satisfied that the monstrous creature had finally fallen. "That''s what happens when you mess with Volk," he muttered, brushing some of the sticky webbing from his arms. Around him, the cavern was eerily quiet, save for the faint dripping of liquid pooling from the spider''s wounds. But something wasn''t right. The spider wasn''t moving, yet Volk couldn''t shake the feeling that it wasn''t truly dead. He narrowed his eyes, stepping back cautiously. Its massive body lay motionless, but the air around it seemed charged, an unsettling tension that made Volk''s instincts scream. He raised his clawed hand, prepared to deliver one final, decisive blow, when suddenly¡ªCRACK! The sound split the silence like a thunderclap. Volk froze as the spider''s massive form twitched violently. Its cracked exoskeleton began to shift, the chitin flaking away in large, brittle pieces. CRACK! CRUNCH! SNAP! The sounds grew louder, more intense, echoing through the cavern as the spider''s outer shell splintered and fell away. "What the¡ª?" Volk growled, his voice trailing off as he took a step back. From beneath the shedding carapace, a gleaming, steel-like body emerged, its surface smooth and reflective, like polished armor. The spider''s eyes, once dull and lifeless, now burned with an eerie crimson glow, their intensity drilling into Volk. Its mandibles, larger and sharper than before, clicked together with a menacing rhythm. The creature stood taller now, its legs more defined, like jagged spears glinting in the faint light of the cavern. Volk''s eyes widened as he took in the transformation. This wasn''t the same creature he had fought moments ago. This was something far worse. The spider hissed, a low, rumbling sound that sent vibrations through the ground beneath Volk''s feet. It lunged without warning, its speed astonishing for something so massive. Volk barely had time to react, throwing himself to the side as one of its razor-sharp legs slammed into the ground where he had stood. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the cavern, cracks spidering out across the floor. Read exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire "Damn it!" Volk cursed, rolling to his feet. His clawed hand flexed, the muscles in his arm taut as he prepared to strike. He launched himself at the creature, his fist aimed squarely at its head. WHAM! His punch connected, but instead of the satisfying crunch of exoskeleton, Volk felt a jarring pain shoot up his arm. It was like punching solid steel. "Argh!" he grunted, pulling back as he cradled his hand. The spider didn''t even flinch. Its glowing eyes seemed to mock him as it raised one of its legs and swung. Volk ducked just in time, the leg whistling past his head and carving a deep gouge into the cavern wall. The force of the swing sent shards of rock flying, some grazing Volk''s skin. He growled, his frustration mounting. "You''re tougher than you look," he muttered, his eyes narrowing. "Fine. Let''s see how you handle this!" He charged again, this time weaving around the spider''s strikes with agility that belied his massive frame. He aimed for its legs, his claws slashing out in rapid, precise movements. Sparks flew as his claws met the spider''s armored limbs, but his attacks barely left a mark. The spider retaliated, its movements a blur. One of its legs lashed out, catching Volk in the side and sending him sprawling across the ground. He skidded to a stop, groaning as he pushed himself up. His ribs ached, but he didn''t have time to dwell on the pain. The spider was relentless. It lunged again, its mandibles snapping dangerously close to Volk''s head. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly bite. Before he could recover, another leg slammed into the ground beside him, trapping him in place. "Not today!" Volk roared, grabbing the leg with both hands. With a mighty effort, he twisted and shoved, forcing the spider back a step. It screeched in anger, its mandibles clicking furiously as it prepared for another assault. Volk knew he couldn''t keep this up. The creature was faster, stronger, and nearly impervious to his attacks. Sweat dripped down his face as he racked his brain for a solution. But before he could come up with a plan, the spider moved again, this time with terrifying precision. It lunged low, its legs wrapping around Volk in a blur of movement. He struggled, roaring in defiance as the spider''s silken threads shot out, binding him in place. His arms were pinned to his sides, his legs immobilized as the creature spun him like a toy. "No! Not like this!" Volk growled, thrashing against the webbing. But the more he struggled, the tighter the bindings became. The spider''s glowing eyes watched him intently, as if savoring its victory. With one final hiss, the spider tightened the web around Volk, leaving him completely immobilized. He was suspended in midair, his body cocooned in the creature''s silken prison. The fight was over. Chapter 340 - 340: Fight fight fight Suspended in the suffocating cocoon of spider silk, Volk''s mind raced. He flexed every muscle in his body, but the webbing was impossibly tight, pressing against his skin like steel cables. The spider loomed before him, its eight glowing red eyes locked onto his cocooned form, its mandibles clicking with a sound like grinding metal. Each click reverberated in the cavern, an ominous promise of his impending doom. But Volk wasn''t one to give up. His thoughts churned as he analyzed every possible escape route. The silk was too strong to break through with brute force, and his limbs were pinned, robbing him of the leverage he needed. He growled in frustration, his sharp teeth bared as he glared at the monstrous creature. The spider leaned closer, its mandibles dripping with venom that hissed as it fell onto the rocky ground below. Volk could feel its hot, acrid breath washing over him, the air thick with the stench of decay. It was mocking him, savoring his helplessness. Volk''s eyes darted around the cavern. He had to think of something fast. Suddenly, a thought struck him¡ªa memory of his sidestep teleportation ability. It wasn''t a skill he used often, primarily because it was disorienting and drained his energy. But now? It was his only chance. His breathing slowed as he focused, his mind zeroing in on the precise mechanics of the ability. Sidestep wasn''t a simple blink¡ªit required a destination, a fragment of space where he could force his body to reappear. The webbing tightened as the spider began to reel him closer, but Volk didn''t panic. "Focus," he muttered under his breath. "Pick a spot. Just one spot." The air around him shimmered faintly, a telltale sign of his energy building. The spider paused, its head tilting slightly as if sensing the shift in the atmosphere. But before it could react, Volk''s body flickered¡ªand vanished. WHOOSH! In a flash, he reappeared a few feet away, the remnants of the webbing falling away from his body. His feet hit the ground with a solid thud, and he staggered briefly, his vision swimming. The teleportation had drained him more than he expected, but there was no time to rest. The spider let out a screech of rage, its massive legs skittering as it turned to face him. Its glowing eyes burned brighter, and for a moment, Volk swore he saw a hint of surprise¡ªor was it fury? "Miss me, ugly?" Volk growled, cracking his neck. His claws flexed, and his lips curled into a feral grin. "Let''s see how tough you are without your little tricks." The spider lunged, its movements a blur despite its massive size. Volk dodged to the side, his body moving with a newfound sharpness. His sidestep had left him drained, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins made up for it. The spider''s leg slammed into the ground where Volk had stood, shattering the rock into jagged pieces. Volk didn''t wait for the next attack. He darted forward, his claws slicing through the air as he aimed for the creature''s exposed joints. CLANG! His claws connected with its armored hide, sending sparks flying. The impact jarred his arm, but he didn''t relent. He struck again and again, aiming for weak points, looking for any vulnerability in the creature''s newly-shed, steel-like form. The spider screeched, its massive legs swinging in retaliation. Volk ducked, rolled, and sidestepped, his movements a blur of controlled chaos. Each time he dodged, he countered with a swipe of his claws, a punch, or a kick. His strikes weren''t doing much damage, but they were keeping the spider off balance. "Come on!" Volk roared, his voice echoing through the cavern. "Is that all you''ve got?" The spider didn''t answer¡ªnot with words, at least. Instead, it reared up on its hind legs, its massive body casting a shadow that swallowed Volk whole. Its mandibles opened wide, dripping venom that sizzled as it hit the ground. Volk''s eyes narrowed. "Big mistake." He waited until the last possible second, then sidestepped again, the air shimmering as he disappeared and reappeared behind the creature. With both hands free now, he slammed his fists into its exposed abdomen. The impact was like a thunderclap, the force reverberating through the cavern. The spider shrieked, its body convulsing as it whipped around to face him. Volk smirked, already moving. He leaped onto one of its legs, scaling the massive limb with agility that defied his bulky frame. The spider thrashed, trying to shake him off, but Volk held on, his claws digging into its armored hide. He climbed higher, his target clear: the spider''s head. "Let''s see how you like this!" he snarled, driving his clawed hand toward one of its glowing eyes. The spider screeched, its legs flailing as Volk''s claws pierced the sensitive orb. A burst of dark ichor sprayed out, coating Volk''s arm, but he didn''t care. He yanked his arm back and struck again, aiming for another eye. But the spider wasn''t done yet. With a sudden, violent motion, it threw itself against the cavern wall, slamming Volk into the jagged rock. Pain exploded through his body, but he refused to let go. "You''re not getting rid of me that easily!" he roared, his claws raking across its face. The spider screamed again, its movements growing more frantic. It slammed itself into the wall again and again, each impact driving the breath from Volk''s lungs. But he held on, his determination unshakable. Finally, with one last, desperate thrash, the spider managed to throw Volk off. He hit the ground hard, skidding across the rocky surface. He groaned, pushing himself to his feet as the spider turned to face him once more. Its body was battered, ichor leaking from its wounds, but it was still standing. Its glowing eyes burned with fury, and its mandibles clicked with renewed aggression. Volk wiped the blood from his mouth, his grin returning. "Round two, huh? Fine by me." Volk tightened his fists, his knuckles cracking like thunderclaps as he squared up against the massive spider once more. Its legs skittered on the cavern floor, the sound sharp and unnerving, like knives scraping against glass. The glow of its many eyes reflected off the slick walls, casting eerie, fractured shadows all around them. The air was thick with the smell of venom and the stale scent of the cave, a suffocating mix that only fueled Volk''s adrenaline. The spider lunged first, its massive front legs stabbing down like twin lances. Volk rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing weight. The ground trembled with each strike, cracks snaking outward from the impact points. He surged forward, his claws gleaming as he aimed for the softer joints between the creature''s armored plates. CLANG! His claws scraped against the exoskeleton, sparks flying as the spider twisted its body with unnatural speed, slamming into him with one of its massive legs. Volk flew backward, crashing into the cavern wall with a force that made his vision blur. Pain lanced through his back, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet. "You think that''s enough to take me down?" Volk spat, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He cracked his neck and flexed his claws. "I''ve faced worse than you in my sleep." The spider let out an ear-splitting screech, its mandibles clicking furiously as it charged him again. This time, it unleashed a stream of webbing from its spinnerets, the thick, sticky threads hurtling toward him like a net. Volk sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the web, but the spider was relentless. Another volley came, forcing him to dive and roll, his movements becoming more frantic as the webbing came closer and closer. "Tch, persistent bug," Volk growled, his muscles coiling as he leaped onto the creature''s back, claws digging into the ridges of its armored body. The spider thrashed wildly, trying to shake him off, but Volk held firm, his claws raking across its exoskeleton with brutal precision. The spider screeched again, its body twisting in ways that defied logic. It reared back, slamming into the cavern ceiling, trying to crush Volk against the jagged rocks. He grunted as shards of stone rained down around him, but he didn''t let go. With a roar of his own, Volk pulled himself up to the spider''s head, aiming for its cluster of glowing eyes. He struck with all his might, his claws sinking into the soft, jelly-like orbs. Dark ichor sprayed out, the spider''s shrieks reaching a fever pitch. But just as he thought he had the upper hand, the spider''s movements became even more frantic. It began spinning, its massive legs moving in a blur as it created a vortex of webbing around itself. Volk''s grip faltered as the sticky threads caught his arms, his legs, his torso. "Damn it!" Volk snarled, struggling against the ever-tightening web. The spider''s spinnerets worked with terrifying speed, encasing him in layer after layer of thick, silken threads. His arms were pinned to his sides, his legs immobilized as the cocoon grew around him. He thrashed and roared, his claws tearing through the first few layers, but the webbing was unyielding. It clung to him like a second skin, growing heavier and more suffocating with each passing second. The spider''s glowing eyes watched him with cold, alien intelligence, as if mocking his futile efforts. Volk''s breathing grew labored as the cocoon tightened, pressing against his chest and constricting his movements. His vision blurred as exhaustion began to take hold, his once mighty roars reduced to strained growls. For the first time in a long while, doubt crept into Volk''s mind. He had faced countless enemies, survived insurmountable odds, but now he was trapped, powerless, and at the mercy of a creature that seemed unstoppable. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. The spider''s mandibles clicked ominously as it loomed over him, its venomous fangs dripping with a lethal promise. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing for a way out, but the web held him fast, its sticky strands absorbing every ounce of his strength. He gritted his teeth, refusing to let despair take root. "I will get out," he growled, his voice muffled by the cocoon. "You will see." The spider hissed in response, its glowing eyes narrowing as it prepared to strike. Find more to read at My Virtual Library Empire Chapter 341 - 341: Ready Volk gritted his teeth as the sharp, searing pain lanced through his side. The spider had struck with blinding speed, one of its jagged legs slashing across his ribs. Blood dripped down his torso, but he didn''t fall. He stood tall, defiant, his fiery eyes locked onto the massive creature in front of him. The spider loomed closer, its legs clicking against the stone floor, its mandibles dripping with venom that hissed as it touched the ground. Volk''s breathing was heavy, each inhale bringing a sharp ache to his injured side. But he didn''t care about the pain. His focus wasn''t on himself anymore. He spun around, taking in the sight of his horde. They were wrapped in thick, silken webs, their bodies suspended in grotesque, contorted poses. The goblins hung limp, their small forms completely cocooned. The Orcs twitched occasionally, their muscles straining against the sticky threads. The Ogres, massive as they were, looked disturbingly vulnerable, their hulking frames rendered helpless by the spider''s relentless weaving. Volk''s heart pounded in his chest, not from fear, but from raw, boiling anger. This wasn''t how his horde would go down¡ªnot trapped like insects, not silent and still while he was left alone to fight. He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms as he roared with everything he had. "WAKE UP!" His voice echoed through the cavern like a shockwave, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the thick mist. He lunged toward the nearest webbed form, a goblin, and with a single, brutal swipe of his claws, tore through the sticky strands. The goblin''s face was pale, its eyes fluttering as if trapped in a deep sleep. "Wake up!" Volk bellowed again, his voice cracking with desperation and fury. He shook the goblin''s small body, its limp form barely responding. "You''re not dead! Get up, damn it!" The spider hissed behind him, but Volk didn''t turn. He didn''t have time to fight it¡ªnot yet. His horde was his priority. He moved to the next cocoon, an Orc this time, and tore through the webbing with ferocity. The sticky strands clung to his claws, resisting every swipe, but Volk was relentless. His arms burned with effort, his wounds screamed in protest, but he didn''t stop. "You''re Orcs! You''re stronger than this! Don''t let some overgrown bug take you down!" The Orc''s face was exposed, its tusks bared, but its eyes remained closed. Volk slammed his fist into the ground, sending a small shockwave through the cavern. "Wake up!" he screamed again, his voice filled with raw, unyielding determination. He tore through more webs, moving from one horde member to the next. Each time, his claws shredded the sticky prisons, his voice echoing louder and louder. "You''re goblins! You''re Orcs! You''re Ogres! You''re MY horde!" Behind him, the spider skittered closer, its many eyes glowing with malice. It lashed out with its legs, but Volk sidestepped the attacks without missing a beat. His focus was absolute, his determination unshakable. "Do you hear me?" he roared, slamming his fist into the stone beside a webbed Ogre. The impact cracked the ground beneath him, sending tremors through the cavern. "You''re MY horde! You don''t get to die here! Not today!" The spider lunged, its fangs aimed straight for his back, but Volk twisted at the last second, its venomous strike barely missing him. He roared back at the creature, his defiance palpable, before turning back to his horde. "Wake up, damn it!" he yelled again, his voice hoarse but still powerful. His claws worked furiously, cutting through the thick webbing that bound the massive Ogre in front of him. The threads resisted, their sticky grip almost impossible to break, but Volk didn''t care. He was a force of nature, unstoppable in his mission. And then, finally, as he tore through the last layer of webbing, the Ogre''s chest heaved. A low, guttural groan escaped its lips as its eyes fluttered open. Volk froze for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the awakening giant. The Ogre blinked, its gaze unfocused but slowly sharpening as it looked at Volk. "You¡­" the Ogre rumbled, its voice low and gravelly. "...Boss?" A grin spread across Volk''s face, fierce and wild. "Damn right, it''s me!" He reached up, slapping the Ogre''s massive shoulder. "Now get up! We''ve got a fight to win!" The Ogre, still groggy but fueled by raw anger, let out a guttural roar and lunged toward the massive spider. Its enormous fists swung through the air with earth-shaking force, aiming straight for the spider''s head. The impact of the blow, if it landed, would have shattered stone, but the spider moved with terrifying speed. Its eight legs skittered across the cavern floor, a blur of motion as it dodged the attack. The Ogre''s fists hit the ground instead, sending tremors through the chamber and dislodging chunks of rock from the ceiling. The spider countered in an instant, its sharp legs darting forward like spears, slashing at the Ogre''s arms and chest. The Ogre grunted in pain but didn''t back down, swinging wildly again and again, determined to buy time for Volk. Volk, his claws slick with his own blood and the sticky residue of webbing, grit his teeth as he moved to the next cocoon. His body ached, and his vision blurred from exhaustion, but he refused to stop. The sight of his horde trapped like prey was seared into his mind, and he knew every second counted. "Wake up, damn it!" Volk growled as he ripped into another web. This one was an Orc, its green skin barely visible beneath the thick layers of silk. Volk''s claws tore through the strands, but they clung to him with a maddening resistance. Every swipe was a battle, the webs pulling back like they were alive. Behind him, the Ogre let out another roar as the spider struck again, its fangs scraping against the Ogre''s shoulder. The massive creature stumbled but kept fighting, swinging its fists like battering rams. Volk didn''t have time to look back. "Get up!" Volk shouted, shaking the Orc''s limp form as its face became visible. "You''re not dead, and I''m not letting you die here! Do you hear me? You''re an Orc! You''re a warrior!" The Orc groaned faintly, its head lolling to the side, but it didn''t wake. Volk cursed under his breath and moved to the next one. A goblin this time. Its small body looked pitifully fragile, completely wrapped in webbing that seemed thicker than usual. Volk''s claws shredded through the layers, his hands moving faster than he thought possible. His arms burned, his muscles screaming in protest, but he didn''t care. "Wake up, you little runt!" Volk snarled, gripping the goblin by its shoulders. "You''re not weak! You''re part of my horde! So act like it and wake the hell up!" The goblin twitched, its small fingers curling slightly, but its eyes remained closed. Volk growled in frustration and slammed his fist into the ground beside it, sending a shockwave through the cavern. "Don''t make me repeat myself!" The spider, sensing the commotion, turned its attention toward Volk. Its legs moved with deadly precision, slicing through the air as it charged toward him. The Ogre intercepted it with a roar, slamming its shoulder into the spider and forcing it back. "Boss! Keep going!" the Ogre bellowed, its voice strained but defiant. "I''ve got this!" Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk didn''t need to be told twice. He moved to the next cocoon, his claws already tearing into the webbing. His hands were raw, his knuckles bleeding, but he didn''t stop. Each cocoon he opened revealed another face, another member of his horde. One by one, he freed them, and each time he shouted, his voice filled with both rage and desperation. "Wake up! Fight back! You''re not going to die here!" The goblins were the first to stir, their small bodies trembling as they opened their eyes. One of them groaned, its voice weak but determined. "Boss¡­?" "That''s right," Volk snarled, gripping the goblin''s shoulder. "Now get your scrawny ass up and help me!" The goblin nodded weakly, its eyes sharpening with resolve. It stumbled to its feet, grabbing a jagged rock from the ground and standing beside Volk. Next were the Orcs. Their hulking forms took longer to rouse, but when they did, their growls echoed through the cavern. One of them, its tusks gleaming in the faint light, grinned fiercely at Volk. "We''re not done yet, are we?" "Not even close," Volk growled back, a savage grin spreading across his face. The Ogres were last. Their massive bodies were the hardest to free, the webbing almost refusing to let go. Volk''s arms felt like lead, his claws barely moving, but he pushed through the pain. Each Ogre he freed groaned deeply, their voices like rolling thunder as they slowly stood. Find your next read on My Virtual Library Empire "Wake up!" Volk bellowed one last time, his voice echoing through the cavern with the force of an earthquake. The spider hissed furiously, its body spinning in place as it prepared to attack again. But now, the horde was waking. One by one, the goblins, Orcs, and Ogres stood beside Volk, their eyes blazing with renewed fire. "Boss¡­" one of the Orcs said, its voice trembling with a mix of fear and awe. Chapter 342 - 342: Tough and slippery The spider moved like a shadow given form, its massive legs skittering with unnerving precision across the cavern floor. Every time one of the goblins lunged with a jagged rock or an Orc swung its crude blade, the creature evaded effortlessly, leaving only a gust of air and a cloud of dust in its wake. Its eight gleaming eyes seemed to taunt them, reflecting the faint light of the cavern as if mocking their efforts. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk growled deep in his throat, his frustration mounting as the fight dragged on. The horde attacked relentlessly, but the spider''s speed was unmatched. Every movement was calculated, every counterattack aimed to disorient and divide them. It lashed out with its front legs, sending an Ogre crashing into a wall with bone-rattling force. "Stay together!" Volk barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Don''t let it split us up!" The horde regrouped, forming a loose circle around the creature. Goblins scrambled over the rubble, flanking it from the sides, while Orcs and Ogres closed in from the front. The spider hissed, its fangs clicking as it realized it was surrounded. But even as they tightened their formation, the spider''s movements grew more erratic, almost playful. It lunged at an Orc, forcing the warrior to duck, then skittered backward before an Ogre could land a crushing blow. "Damn it!" Volk roared as his claws swiped through empty air. "It''s too fast!" He could feel the frustration radiating from his horde. The goblins snarled in frustration, their attacks missing by inches. The Orcs gritted their teeth, their weapons scraping uselessly against the cavern floor. Even the Ogres, usually so confident in their brute strength, hesitated, their massive fists unable to connect. The spider, emboldened by their struggle, suddenly lunged forward, its fangs aimed directly at a goblin. The small creature let out a terrified shriek, its body freezing in fear. "No!" Volk''s voice thundered as he dashed forward, grabbing the goblin and pulling it out of harm''s way just in time. The spider''s fangs snapped shut on empty air, its hiss of frustration echoing through the cavern. The horde''s morale was wavering. They couldn''t keep up with the spider''s speed, and every failed attack only seemed to embolden the creature further. Volk''s mind raced as he tried to think of a strategy. Then it hit him¡ªa memory from one of their earlier hunts, where they''d cornered a smaller but equally slippery predator. "Enough!" Volk''s voice boomed, silencing the cacophony of battle. He pointed a clawed finger at the horde, his eyes blazing with determination. "We''re not going to fight this thing on its terms. We trap it!" The horde looked at him, confused but hopeful. "Trap it?" an Orc growled, dodging a swipe from the spider. "Yeah, trap it!" Volk shouted, his mind working quickly. "Goblins, you''re the bait. Keep it distracted. Orcs, Ogres¡ªstart moving those rocks! Block its escape routes!" The goblins exchanged nervous glances but obeyed, darting around the spider and throwing small rocks to keep its attention. The creature hissed angrily, its legs twitching as it turned to face them. Meanwhile, the Orcs and Ogres began moving the larger stones scattered throughout the cavern, forming a crude barricade around the spider''s position. "Hurry up!" Volk yelled as he joined the effort, his claws digging into the rocky floor as he dragged a massive boulder into place. The spider seemed to realize what they were doing. It lunged at the goblins with renewed aggression, forcing them to scatter. "Stay on it!" Volk roared. "Don''t let it get through!" The horde worked with desperate urgency, their movements a chaotic symphony of shouts, grunts, and the grinding of stone against stone. Slowly but surely, the barricade took shape, forming a rough circle around the spider. But the creature wasn''t going down without a fight. It skittered up the side of the barricade, its legs clawing at the rocks as it tried to climb over. "Not so fast!" an Ogre bellowed, slamming a massive rock into the spider''s side. The impact sent the creature tumbling back into the enclosure, its legs flailing. Volk saw his chance. "Now! Close it off!" The horde moved as one, shoving the final rocks into place and sealing the spider inside the makeshift trap. The creature screeched in fury, its legs slamming against the barricade in a frantic attempt to escape. Breathing heavily, Volk stepped back to survey their work. The spider was trapped, its massive body pacing angrily within the enclosure. The horde let out a collective sigh of relief, their exhausted faces breaking into triumphant grins. "It''s done," Volk muttered, his claws flexing as he stared at the captured creature. But deep down, he knew this wasn''t over yet. The horde''s cheers of triumph echoed through the cavern, but Volk''s eyes remained fixed on the trapped spider. The creature wasn''t panicking as he had expected. It wasn''t throwing itself against the walls of its rocky prison in desperation. Instead, it paced, its eight legs moving with eerie precision, its sharp claws clicking against the cavern floor. Its multiple eyes glinted with a malevolent intelligence that made Volk''s stomach churn. "Don''t get cocky!" Volk growled, his voice cutting through the celebration. "This thing isn''t done yet." The horde quieted, their weapons raised as they closed in on the spider. An Ogre stepped forward, towering over the others, his massive club resting on his shoulder. "Let me at it, Volk!" the Ogre bellowed, his voice full of confidence. "I''ll crush it in one blow!" "Wait¡ª" Volk began, but the Ogre had already charged forward, raising his club high. The spider didn''t flinch. It waited until the last possible second, then lunged forward with terrifying speed. The Ogre swung his club with all his might, the air around it whistling as it came crashing down. CRACK! The club struck the spider''s exoskeleton with a deafening impact, but instead of splintering or cracking, the tough, black armor absorbed the blow. The force reverberated back through the club, making the Ogre stumble. "What the¡ª" the Ogre muttered, staring at the unscathed spider. The creature retaliated instantly, one of its legs lashing out and slamming into the Ogre''s chest. The giant warrior was sent flying backward, crashing into the barricade with a thunderous BOOM! The horde froze, their confidence shattered as they stared at the unyielding spider. "Is that all you''ve got?!" Volk roared, stepping forward to take command. "Get back in there! All of you!" The Orcs and goblins hesitated for only a moment before charging. The cavern erupted into chaos as weapons clashed against the spider''s impenetrable exoskeleton. Axes and swords bounced harmlessly off its armored body, leaving only shallow scratches. Goblins hurled stones and spears, but the projectiles either missed or glanced off the creature without effect. The spider hissed, its massive legs moving with deadly precision as it deflected attack after attack. An Orc lunged at it with a battle axe, aiming for one of its eyes, but the creature twisted its body, the blade sliding off its carapace with a screech. "Keep at it!" Volk shouted, slamming his clawed fist into the spider''s side. His own strength, formidable as it was, barely left a dent. "It can''t hold out forever!" But the spider could. Its movements were deliberate, calculated. It was a predator toying with its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. The Ogres, growing more frustrated by the second, launched an all-out assault. They attacked from every angle, their massive fists and clubs raining down on the spider like a thunderstorm. The cavern shook with each impact, dust and debris falling from the ceiling. Still, the spider remained unbroken. "It''s too tough!" one of the goblins screeched, dodging a swipe from the creature''s clawed leg. Discover stories at My Virtual Library Empire "It''s like hitting a damn mountain!" an Orc growled, his blade snapping in half against the spider''s side. "Shut up and fight!" Volk roared, refusing to admit defeat. He leapt onto the spider''s back, digging his claws into the gaps in its exoskeleton. For a moment, he thought he had found a weakness, but the creature reared up, throwing him off with a violent shake. The battle raged on, but it was clear they were losing ground. The spider moved with increasing confidence, its strikes growing more aggressive. It swiped at a goblin, sending the small creature flying into a wall. An Ogre attempted to pin it down, only to be thrown aside like a rag doll. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, the spider launched itself toward the barricade. The horde scrambled to block its path, but it was too fast. Its legs tore through the rocks, scattering them like pebbles. "No!" Volk shouted, his voice echoing through the cavern. The spider skittered out of the trap, its massive form disappearing into the shadows. For a moment, there was only silence, the horde staring at the broken barricade in disbelief. Volk clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as frustration boiled within him. They had underestimated it, and now it was loose. Chapter 343 - 343: Wrapped up The cavern trembled under the frenzy of the spider''s movements. As if enraged by the horde''s persistence, the massive creature shifted from defense to an all-out assault. Its eight legs moved with terrifying speed, skittering across the rocky floor, each step echoing like thunder. The horde braced themselves, weapons drawn, but the atmosphere had shifted. The spider was no longer retreating¡ªit was hunting. "Hold the line!" Volk bellowed, his voice booming over the chaos. "Don''t let it divide us! Goblins, flank it! Ogres, back me up!" The horde moved to obey, but the spider was faster. It surged forward with lightning speed, its legs slicing through the air like deadly scythes. The first victim was a goblin, who darted too close. FWIP! The goblin barely had time to scream as a thick strand of webbing shot from the spider''s abdomen, wrapping around his torso. His comrades lunged to save him, but the spider yanked him away with a violent tug, dragging him into the shadows. "Grobbit!" one of the goblins cried, panic evident in his voice. "Stay together!" Volk roared, slamming his fist into the ground. "Do not scatter!" But it was no use. The spider darted to the left, then to the right, faster than their eyes could follow. It fired another web, this time ensnaring an Orc. THWACK! The Orc swung his axe wildly, trying to cut himself free, but the sticky threads only tightened around him, binding his arms to his sides. He toppled to the ground, thrashing and cursing as the spider dragged him toward its lair. "Volk! Help!" he shouted, his voice growing fainter as the darkness swallowed him. "Keep fighting!" Volk commanded, his claws tearing through a strand of webbing as it flew toward him. "We can still¡ª" FWIP! Another goblin was caught mid-leap, the webbing wrapping around his legs and yanking him out of the air. He screamed in terror, his voice cutting off as the spider slammed him against the wall. One by one, the horde fell. "Volk, it''s too fast!" an Ogre roared, swinging his massive club in desperation. The weapon struck the ground with a deafening BOOM, but the spider easily dodged the blow, its legs skittering across the rubble. "Stop panicking!" Volk growled, his frustration boiling over. "We''re not done yet!" But the spider was relentless. It leapt onto the ceiling, clinging to the jagged rocks as it unleashed a barrage of webs. Goblins and Orcs scrambled to evade, but the strands were everywhere, crisscrossing the battlefield and snaring them like flies. THWIP! A goblin was yanked off his feet, his high-pitched screams echoing through the cavern. CRUNCH! An Ogre fell next, his massive form crashing to the ground as the webbing wrapped around his arms and legs, pinning him down. "Keep moving!" Volk shouted, his claws tearing through the strands that reached for him. "We''re not giving up! Not like this!" But the spider was an unstoppable force. Its legs lashed out, striking down those who dared to get close. An Orc lunged at it with a spear, but a single swipe sent him flying into the barricade. The webbing followed, cocooning him before he could rise. "Volk!" the Orc shouted, his voice desperate. "I can''t¡ª" The spider dragged him away, his pleas for help fading into the darkness. Volk''s chest heaved as he tried to rally his forces, but his commands fell on deaf ears. The horde was overwhelmed. Ogres, goblins, Orcs¡ªnone were spared. "Don''t give up!" Volk screamed, his voice cracking with rage. "We are the horde! We don''t lose to some overgrown bug!" But his words did little to stem the tide. The spider moved like a blur, ensnaring its prey with precision. The webbing piled up, forming thick, sticky mounds around the cavern as more of Volk''s warriors fell. FWIP! An Ogre swung his club one last time before the webbing encased his arms, pulling him to the ground. "Volk!" he roared, his voice tinged with fear. "It''s¡­ too strong!" "No!" Volk snarled, slamming his fist into the ground. "We can still¡ª" His words were cut off as the spider turned its attention to him. For a moment, their eyes locked¡ªeight glinting black orbs staring into Volk''s furious glare. "Come on, then!" Volk roared, spreading his arms wide. "You want me? Try it!" The spider hesitated, then lunged. Volk barely dodged, his heart pounding as the creature''s massive legs slammed into the ground where he had stood. Find your next read on My Virtual Library Empire But even Volk couldn''t escape forever. The spider''s next move was too fast. THWIP! A strand of webbing caught his arm, pulling him off balance. He clawed at it, his sharp nails slicing through the sticky material, but more strands followed. THWACK! THWIP! The webbing wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides. He thrashed and roared, his muscles straining against the unyielding bonds, but the spider only tightened its grip. "No!" Volk roared, his voice echoing through the cavern. But as the spider loomed over him, its fangs glinting in the dim light, Volk knew they had underestimated this creature. One by one, his horde had fallen, and now he was the last. The spider loomed over Volk, its massive body pulsating with eerie confidence. Its legs clicked against the stone floor, the sound like the ticking of an ominous clock. This wasn''t the frantic, defensive creature they had faced before. No, this time, it seemed to have learned. It anticipated his every move, its dark eyes gleaming with a predator''s certainty. Volk''s heart thundered in his chest as he glared up at the monstrous beast. His claws flexed, the sharp edges glinting faintly in the dim light. "You think you''ve won?" he spat, his voice a low growl. "Think again." Without hesitation, Volk teleported. In a flash, he was out of the webbing that had ensnared him moments ago, reappearing a few feet away. His muscles rippled as he landed, claws at the ready, his yellow eyes blazing with determination. The spider didn''t flinch. Instead, it turned toward him with a deliberate grace, almost as if it had expected this. Its legs spread wide, forming an imposing stance that blocked any potential escape. The air grew heavy with tension as the two adversaries faced off. Volk charged. His movements were lightning-fast, his claws a blur as he slashed at the creature''s legs. Shk! Shk! Sparks flew as his strikes glanced off its armored exoskeleton. "Damn it!" Volk snarled, dodging to the side as one of the spider''s legs came crashing down where he had been standing. The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing through the stone floor, a grim reminder of the creature''s raw power. The spider retaliated with a flurry of attacks, its legs stabbing and slicing through the air. Volk weaved through them, each movement precise and calculated. He teleported again, appearing on the spider''s back. With a roar, he drove his claws into its tough exoskeleton, trying to pry open a weak spot. "Take this!" he growled, using all his strength to dig deeper. The spider shrieked, a high-pitched, grating sound that reverberated through the cavern. It thrashed wildly, its massive body twisting and turning as it tried to shake Volk off. But Volk held on, his claws embedded in its armor. "You''re not getting rid of me that easily!" he shouted, his muscles straining as he pulled. Suddenly, the spider flipped onto its back, slamming Volk into the ground with bone-jarring force. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he rolled away just in time to avoid being crushed as the creature flipped back over. "You''re tough," Volk muttered, coughing as he climbed to his feet. "But so am I." The spider didn''t give him a moment to recover. It lunged at him, its fangs gleaming. Volk barely managed to teleport out of the way, reappearing behind it. He lashed out with his claws, but the spider anticipated his move, twisting its body with unnatural speed. One of its legs struck him square in the chest, sending him flying across the cavern. BAM! Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk hit the wall with a sickening thud, pain radiating through his body. He staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth. "You''re starting to piss me off," he growled, wiping the blood away. The spider charged again, its legs pounding against the ground like drumbeats of doom. Volk teleported once more, this time reappearing directly in front of its face. He swung his claws with all his might, aiming for its glistening black eyes. The spider jerked its head back, narrowly avoiding the strike. Its fangs lashed out, snapping inches from Volk''s face. He jumped back, his instincts screaming at him to keep moving. The fight continued, a brutal dance of speed and strength. Volk''s claws and teleportation gave him an edge, but the spider''s sheer size and resilience made it a relentless opponent. Each time Volk thought he had the upper hand, the spider adapted, countering his attacks with terrifying precision. Sweat poured down Volk''s face as he dodged another strike. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his stamina waning. The spider, however, showed no signs of slowing down. Its movements were as quick and deadly as ever. "I need to end this," Volk muttered, his eyes narrowing. He teleported again, this time aiming for the spider''s abdomen. With a roar, he drove his claws into it, tearing at the thick web-producing organ. The spider screamed, a sound that shook the very walls of the cavern. It reared up, its legs flailing wildly. For a moment, Volk thought he had finally done it. But the spider wasn''t finished. It slammed its body against the ground, sending a shockwave through the cavern. The force knocked Volk off balance, and before he could recover, the spider''s legs wrapped around him with crushing force. "No!" Volk roared, struggling against its grip. The spider wasted no time. Its webbing shot out, wrapping around Volk''s arms and legs. He fought with everything he had, his claws tearing through the sticky threads, but the spider was relentless. The webbing tightened, cocooning him inch by inch. "Damn it!" Volk growled, his voice muffled as the webbing covered his face. Despite his strength and determination, the spider''s relentless assault was too much. Within moments, Volk was completely wrapped up, his body immobilized in a thick cocoon of webbing. The spider loomed over him, victorious, its fangs clicking ominously. For the first time, Volk felt a flick anger! Chapter 344 - 344: Struggle "Damn it!" Volk growled, his voice muffled as the webbing covered his face. Despite his strength and determination, the spider''s relentless assault was too much. Within moments, Volk was completely wrapped up, his body immobilized in a thick cocoon of webbing. The spider loomed over him, victorious, its fangs clicking ominously. For the first time, Volk felt a flicker of doubt. Had he underestimated this creature? Was this the end? The cavern fell into a strange, tense silence, broken only by the subtle sounds of the spider''s mandibles clicking together as it stood over the cocoon that had become Volk''s prison. Wrapped tightly in layer upon layer of the spider''s webbing, the cocoon pulsated faintly, almost imperceptibly at first¡ªa mere ripple of motion, like the stirring of a dormant beast. Experience new tales on My Virtual Library Empire The spider tilted its massive head, its multifaceted eyes glinting with an unreadable expression. Was it curiosity? Alarm? Confidence? Whatever it was, the spider did not retreat. Instead, it reached out with one of its slender, dagger-like legs, nudging the cocoon as though to test its strength. Inside, Volk could feel the crushing pressure of the webbing around him. Every breath was a struggle, every muscle screamed in resistance as he pushed against the sticky, unyielding layers that clung to him like a second skin. Yet, his determination burned hotter than ever. "This won''t hold me," Volk thought, his mind racing as he focused all his strength. His body tensed, veins bulging against the constrictive threads. Then, without warning¡ªthump. The cocoon pulsed. It was faint at first, almost as if the movement were an accident or the result of some residual twitch of Volk''s trapped body. But then it came again, stronger this time¡ªTHUMP. The spider froze, its massive form leaning closer to inspect the disturbance. Another pulse followed, and then another, each more pronounced than the last. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. The cocoon trembled now, vibrating with a force that seemed to grow exponentially with every passing second. Inside, Volk''s rage surged. His body strained, his muscles coiling with a raw, almost feral energy. The pulse wasn''t just random movement¡ªit was a deliberate, building force, a gathering of power that resonated from deep within him. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The trembling grew, the cocoon shaking violently in response. Threads of webbing began to snap, small but audible cracks cutting through the tense air. The spider hissed, stepping back slightly. It could sense that something was wrong. Its instincts screamed at it to act, but it hesitated for just a moment too long. The cocoon shuddered violently now, each pulse like the pounding of a war drum. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The vibrations spread outward, causing loose pebbles and debris to dance across the cavern floor. It wasn''t just Volk struggling inside anymore¡ªit was as if the cocoon itself had become a vessel for some primal, unstoppable force. The spider screeched, its legs skittering across the ground as it moved to reinforce the cocoon. Webbing shot from its abdomen in thick, rapid streams, layering over the trembling mass in desperate attempts to contain it. CRACK! A small tear appeared in the cocoon, a jagged line that glowed faintly with an otherworldly energy. The spider didn''t hesitate this time. It lunged forward, wrapping the cocoon with more webbing, tighter and denser than before. Its legs moved with frantic precision, spinning and weaving as fast as its body could manage. The tear disappeared under the new layers, but the pulsating energy didn''t stop¡ªit grew stronger. THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The vibrations were deafening now, echoing through the cavern like the rumble of an earthquake. The air itself seemed to ripple with the force emanating from the cocoon. "SCREEEEEE!" The spider screeched in fury, pressing its weight down on the cocoon to subdue the growing power. Its massive legs pinned the struggling mass to the ground as it continued to reinforce the webbing, each new layer thicker and stickier than the last. The cocoon fought back, shaking and thrashing with increasing intensity. Threads snapped and whipped through the air like taut strings breaking under pressure, but the spider was relentless. For every layer that tore away, it added two more, its movements a blur of precision and desperation. Finally, the trembling began to subside, the violent pulses fading into faint quivers. The cavern grew still once more, save for the spider''s labored breaths and the faint, strained creaking of the cocoon''s reinforced webbing. The spider paused, its legs still pressing down on the cocoon as it watched for any further signs of movement. Satisfied that the threat had been contained, it released a low, guttural hiss, its mandibles clicking together in what almost sounded like triumph. The cavern was still, save for the faint sound of the spider''s legs tapping against the stone floor as it circled the cocoon. The monstrous arachnid hissed, pausing to assess its work. Layers upon layers of webbing encased Volk, the cocoon now nearly as wide as the spider itself, reinforced to the point where it seemed impenetrable. The faint pulses from inside had subsided again, reduced to little more than the occasional tremor. For a moment, the spider seemed satisfied. Its mandibles twitched in what could only be described as smugness as it rested one massive, chitinous leg on the cocoon, asserting its dominance. This was its domain, its trap, and nothing¡ªno creature¡ªescaped from its clutches. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. But then¡ªtwitch. The cocoon trembled. The movement was subtle, almost imperceptible, but the spider''s multifaceted eyes caught it immediately. It hissed, rearing back slightly, its mandibles clicking together in agitation. And then it happened again. TWITCH. The tremor was stronger this time, a ripple running through the entire cocoon. Threads groaned under the sudden tension, small strands snapping audibly in the cavern''s silence. The spider didn''t wait. Instinct kicked in, and it moved with terrifying speed, its legs a blur as it began spinning more webbing. The strands flew from its spinnerets, thick and sticky, binding the cocoon tighter, smothering the tremors before they could grow. TWITCH-TWITCH-TWITCH! The cocoon jerked violently now, like a beast trapped in chains, thrashing against its bindings. The spider screeched in fury, its legs darting around the cocoon as it worked frantically, adding layer after layer. Each new thread gleamed in the dim light, taut and unyielding, but the vibrations didn''t stop¡ªthey grew stronger. Inside, Volk''s rage boiled over. He could feel the weight of the webbing crushing him, the suffocating layers pressing down on his chest, but his defiance burned brighter than ever. He wasn''t just fighting to escape¡ªhe was fighting to prove that nothing, not even this monstrous spider, could keep him bound. BOOM! The cocoon lurched, the force of Volk''s struggle creating a shockwave that echoed through the cavern. The spider staggered back momentarily, its legs scraping against the ground to regain balance. "SCREEEEEE!" The spider shrieked, doubling down on its efforts. More webbing flew, thicker and faster than before. It wrapped the cocoon again and again, each layer heavier than the last, until the entire structure gleamed with a sticky, metallic sheen. But Volk wasn''t done. THUMP! The cocoon trembled so violently that loose stones fell from the cavern walls, clattering to the ground. The spider hissed in frustration, its movements becoming increasingly frantic. It knew that if it couldn''t subdue the cocoon now, it would lose its prey entirely. Inside, Volk''s muscles coiled like steel cables, his raw strength building to a crescendo. His mind was a storm of fury and determination, every fiber of his being focused on one goal: breaking free. He could feel the webbing tightening around him with every tremor, but he welcomed the pressure. It was a challenge, a test of his power, and he would not lose. SNAP! A single strand of webbing gave way, then another, and another. The cocoon began to bulge, the threads groaning under the strain as Volk pushed harder and harder. The spider screeched again, its mandibles flaring as it slammed its legs down on the cocoon, trying to pin it in place. Its spinnerets worked overtime, producing more webbing at an impossible pace, but the cocoon was alive now, a writhing, heaving mass of resistance. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The cocoon trembled with explosive force, each pulse stronger than the last. The spider''s legs slipped, its footing unsteady as the vibrations grew. It clung desperately to the cocoon, trying to smother the power building within, but it was too late. With a deafening CRACK, a massive bulge formed on the side of the cocoon, the webbing splitting open to reveal a flash of dark, muscular flesh. The spider hissed in alarm, its eyes narrowing as it spun more webbing to patch the tear, but the bulge grew larger. And then, with a final, earth-shaking BOOM, a massive, muscular hand burst through the cocoon. The hand was gargantuan, its veins bulging with raw power, its fingers clenched into a fist that glowed faintly with an unnatural energy. The spider staggered back, its mandibles twitching in disbelief as it watched the hand flex, tearing away more of the webbing with each movement. Volk wasn''t just breaking free¡ªhe was emerging, stronger and angrier than ever. Chapter 345 - 345: More Spidey The cavern trembled as Volk burst free from the cocoon, his form now something far beyond his previous self. No longer was he just an Orc¡ªhe was something monstrous, something primal. His new Ogre form stood towering and thick with pure, unadulterated muscle. Gone was the brutish bulk of a typical Ogre; in its place was a sculpted monstrosity of sinew and power, a titan carved from stone itself. His veins pulsed like molten rivers beneath his skin, and his fists clenched with enough force to shatter bones like twigs. And then¡ªBOOM! A roar exploded from his throat, not just a cry of rage but a war declaration that sent shockwaves through the air. The cavern walls cracked, dust and debris raining down as the sheer force of his bellow reverberated through the mountain. The spider recoiled. For the first time, it hesitated. But only for a moment. SCREEEEE! The beast shrieked, its hesitation vanishing as its predatory instincts took over. This was still prey¡ªit had to be. No matter how much stronger it had become, everything could be subdued. It had caught Volk once, and it would do so again. The spider lunged, its eight legs skittering at unnatural speed, fangs dripping with venom as it came in for the kill. Volk grinned. The first strike came¡ªa wicked lunge with needle-sharp fangs, aimed straight for Volk''s throat. The venom within them was powerful enough to liquefy a boulder from the inside out, but¡ªBAM!¡ªVolk didn''t dodge. He caught the fangs with his bare hands. The impact alone cracked the ground beneath him, but his grip was unyielding. His fingers dug into the chitinous exoskeleton like iron clamps, stopping the deadly bite in its tracks. The spider shrieked in fury and thrashed, trying to rip free, but Volk squeezed. CRACK! A fracture ran through one of its fangs. The spider spasmed, its many eyes blinking in shock. But it wasn''t done. With terrifying agility, it launched another attack¡ªa rapid flurry of strikes from its serrated forelegs, each capable of slicing through solid rock. SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! But Volk barely moved. Each deadly leg crashed against him, aiming for his torso, his limbs, even his head. The cavern rang with the clang of chitin striking flesh, but Volk didn''t even flinch. His skin was like reinforced steel, his muscles absorbing the blows with ease. The spider shrieked in frustration and skittered backward, recalculating. It had other weapons. The next attack was venom. Its fangs reared back, and with a deep hiss, it spat. A stream of thick, greenish-black liquid shot toward Volk, a substance so corrosive that it sizzled mid-air. The ground where it landed moments later melted into a bubbling sludge. Volk stood there, watching it with mild interest. Then, as if mocking it, he flexed his arms. His skin, bathed in a faint glow, shrugged off the venom like rainwater. The spider froze. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. But it wasn''t done yet. It had one final weapon. Desperation kicked in, and the spider leapt into the air, twisting its massive body mid-flight. Its spinnerets flared wide¡ªFWOOOOSH!¡ªreleasing a massive tidal wave of silk. It wasn''t aiming for just Volk now. It aimed for the entire cavern. A web storm descended, thick, sticky, and reinforced. The strands wrapped around Volk instantly, layer upon layer, faster than even his enhanced strength could rip apart. He growled, struggling for a moment, but more silk came. The spider poured everything into it, wrapping him tighter and tighter. His limbs became bound, then his torso, then his legs. The silk compacted, forming an ever-thickening cocoon. Within seconds, Volk was gone. Silence. The spider finally stopped, panting, its legs trembling. It had done it. The cavern was still. The only thing remaining was the massive cocoon hanging from the ceiling, pulsating slightly as whatever was inside still twitched. The spider hissed in victory, stepping back. But then¡ª RIPPPPP! A deep, guttural sound echoed through the chamber. The spider''s eyes widened in horror. RIIIIIP! The cocoon began to bulge. The webbing¡ªits strongest, most reinforced webbing¡ªwas being torn apart like mere paper. And then¡ªBOOM! A massive, muscular arm exploded outward, strands of silk dangling from its fingers like torn fabric. Volk''s voice rumbled through the cavern, low and menacing. "You really thought that would work?" The spider''s many eyes trembled, its legs twitching erratically as it skittered backward in a panicked frenzy. It had wrapped him up, cocooned him, used its strongest silk¡ªhow? How was he still standing? No, worse¡ªhow was he completely unharmed? Volk stepped forward, the thick remnants of the webbing still clinging to his muscular form, but he barely paid it any mind. He flexed once, and the remaining silk disintegrated into useless strands, falling to the floor. His hulking figure, rippling with unnatural strength, loomed over the spider like a nightmare made flesh. Discover exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire The spider screeched, its mandibles clacking together in rapid, desperate beats. Then¡ªFWOOSH!¡ªit lunged. This time, there was no strategy. No careful attack pattern. No illusions, no calculated webbing. It was pure, blind desperation. Its eight legs curled inward, its fangs bared, its venom-dripping stingers primed to pierce through anything in its path. It didn''t care where it struck¡ªso long as it killed him. Volk barely blinked. The first strike came¡ªa downward slam from one of its serrated forelegs, aiming directly for his skull. CRACK! Volk caught it mid-air. The impact sent shockwaves through the cavern, splintering the rock beneath his feet. The spider thrashed, its massive leg struggling in his grip, but he didn''t budge. His fingers tightened, and¡ªCRUNCH!¡ªhe snapped the leg in half. The spider shrieked. It reeled backward, but Volk was already moving. BOOM! His fist slammed into its face with the force of a battering ram, sending the entire creature skidding back across the cavern floor. Its body crashed into the rocky walls, BOOM! CRASH! THOOM!¡ªthe stone cracked and split apart from the sheer force of impact. But Volk wasn''t done. The spider twitched, attempting to get up¡ªBOOM!¡ªanother fist sent it sprawling. It hissed, barely managing to lift itself with its remaining legs¡ªBOOM!¡ªVolk''s knee smashed into its thorax, caving in part of its exoskeleton. The spider wailed. It tried to flee. It tried to crawl away, but Volk grabbed one of its remaining legs and yanked¡ªhard. The beast was ripped backward, its body slamming into the ground again. THUD! It twitched violently, its legs curling inward. Volk loomed over it, his breath steady, his eyes cold. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. The spider shivered beneath his gaze, its many eyes filled with something Volk had seen in countless creatures before¡ªfear. He lifted his foot. The spider screeched one last time, its legs frantically scrabbling for purchase, trying to retreat¡ª BOOOOOOOOOOOM! Volk''s foot came down. The entire cavern shook. The floor beneath them split apart, a massive crater forming where the spider''s body once lay. A sickening SPLAT! echoed through the chamber, accompanied by a spray of thick, black ichor splattering in every direction. The spider''s form was gone. Reduced to nothing more than a grotesque, flattened mess. Volk exhaled slowly, lifting his foot from the crater. His eyes narrowed in disgust. "¡­Too weak." Silence. For a moment, everything was still. The cavern, the walls, the remains of the battlefield¡ªnothing moved. Then¡ª Skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter skitter¡­ Volk''s ears twitched. His gaze slowly lifted toward the darkness beyond the cavern. The sound grew louder. Closer. Faster. What is that? The cavern trembled as the skittering grew deafening. From the shadows, one spider emerged. Volk didn''t hesitate. BOOM! His foot came down, and the creature burst into pulp, its thick exoskeleton shattering like fragile glass beneath his stomp. Before the remains even settled, two more crawled out from the darkness. BOOM!¡ªone crushed. BOOM!¡ªanother turned to mush. Then three more came. Then four. Then five. The flood began. A wave of grotesque, skittering monsters poured from the cavern walls, their thick legs clattering against the stone, their soulless eyes glowing like eerie lanterns in the darkness. Their sharp mandibles clicked, their venom-dripping fangs bared wide as they rushed toward him, hunger and rage filling their hollow forms. Volk exhaled. He cracked his knuckles. "Fine." His lips curled into a wicked grin. "I''ll crush every last one of you." And so he did. BOOM!¡ªone. BOOM!¡ªtwo. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!¡ªthree, four, five in quick succession. Their bodies exploded under his sheer strength, their exoskeletons snapping like twigs, their innards spraying across the battlefield. But they didn''t stop. More and more poured in. A tide of grotesque, writhing arachnids, each one larger than the last. Their numbers doubled, tripled, multiplied with every passing second. Volk''s grin widened. "Come on then." BOOM!¡ªanother stomp. BOOM!¡ªa punch sent one flying into the wall, shattering it on impact. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!¡ªhis fists tore through the swarm, bodies rupturing, limbs flying, black ichor drenching the cavern floor. Yet they just kept coming. The spiders piled on top of one another, forming a writhing, chittering mass of legs and fangs. They swarmed toward him, a never-ending tide of nightmare fuel. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk didn''t back down. He lunged forward, his fist colliding with the first wave¡ªBOOOOOOM!¡ªa shockwave erupted, sending dozens flying. He ripped through their numbers, grabbing one by the legs and hurling it into the others¡ªCRASH!¡ªtheir bodies shattered on impact. He grabbed another by its bloated abdomen and squeezed¡ªSPLURCH!¡ªit popped like an overripe fruit, drenching him in black ichor. His movements became a blur. His muscles tensed, coiled, unleashed with every attack. One spider tried to leap at him¡ªBOOM!¡ªa backhand sent it flying. Another tried to web him¡ªBOOM!¡ªhe ripped through the silk and slammed it into the ground. Yet the tide never stopped. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. More. They climbed over each other, screeching, desperate to overwhelm him. But Volk¡ªVolk was a storm. Each step he took left a crater. Each punch he threw shattered bones. Each kick he delivered sent bodies exploding into mist. And still, they just. Kept. Coming. He stomped. He crushed. He ripped. He tore. Ichor flooded the cavern floor, thick and pungent, soaking the ground in the remains of his enemies. The air reeked of death. Yet Volk barely even breathed heavily. His muscles bulged. His eyes glowed. His grin never once faded. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of slaughter¡ª The skittering stopped. The tide of spiders hesitated. The remaining few twitched, their mandibles clicking nervously. They could sense it now. Fear. Volk took a step forward. The cavern shook. The remaining spiders flinched. His grin stretched wider. "What''s wrong?" He cracked his knuckles, ichor dripping from his hands. "Don''t tell me that''s all you''ve got." Silence. Then¡ª From deep within the cavern, a new sound emerged. A deep, guttural chittering. Volk''s grin slowly faded. Chapter 346 - 346: Spider Boss The cavern trembled. A shiver ran down Volk''s spine as a deep, guttural chittering filled the air. He squinted into the darkness. The smaller spiders had all fled. Their corpses littered the ground in heaps, their black ichor staining the cavern floor. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Then¡ª THUD. A single step. The entire cavern shook. Volk''s eyes widened. His muscles tensed. THUD. THUD. Another step. The tremors grew stronger. Dust and loose rocks rained down from the ceiling, the very walls of the cave quivering under the sheer weight of what was approaching. From the abyssal depths of the cavern, eight massive, glowing eyes slowly blinked open. The darkness itself seemed to breathe. Then it moved. Volk exhaled slowly. His fingers curled into fists, knuckles cracking like gunfire. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of something ancient, something primal. The weight of its presence pressed down on him, crushing, suffocating, making even the simple act of breathing feel wrong. Then¡ª A leg emerged from the darkness. It was massive¡ªtwisted, jagged, covered in thick, black chitin that gleamed in the dim light. The surface was scarred, cracked, as if it had weathered countless battles and emerged unscathed. Then another leg. Then another. Then another. The sheer size of it was monstrous. The ground groaned beneath its weight as it stepped forward, the cavern shuddering like a dying beast. Volk had fought big monsters before. He had crushed them beneath his fists, shattered their bones, ripped them apart with his bare hands. But this¡ª This thing was in a league of its own. The intensity of its presence grew with every step it took. It was slow. It was deliberate. It was unrushed. As if it knew it had nothing to fear. Volk''s breath came out in a slow, controlled exhale. His muscles tensed. His senses sharpened. THUD. It was closer now. The cavern walls seemed to warp around its presence, as if reality itself was bending under the weight of its existence. The ground beneath Volk''s feet cracked, unable to handle the sheer gravity of the thing that was approaching. Then¡ª It emerged. The largest spider Volk had ever seen. It dwarfed everything else in the cavern. Its body was colossal, its legs like massive pillars that could crush mountains. Its abdomen was bloated, covered in thick, pulsating veins that glowed faintly with an eerie, bioluminescent light. Its head¡ªif it could even be called that¡ªwas a grotesque fusion of mandibles, fangs, and layered chitin. Eight enormous eyes gleamed like molten gold, staring down at him with an intelligence far beyond that of a simple beast. Its fangs dripped with venom thick enough to sizzle against the stone below. It did not attack. It did not roar. Experience exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire It simply stood there. Watching. Observing. As if judging him. The intensity of its presence was suffocating. Volk gritted his teeth. His heart pounded like a war drum, his muscles coiled like loaded springs. Then¡ª The spider took one more step. And now¡ª It was right in front of him. The moment stretched, silent and tense. Then¡ª Volk grinned. A sharp, toothy grin. His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. His massive, muscle-packed ogre body tensed like a coiled spring. Then¡ª He exploded forward. BOOM! The force of his charge shattered the ground beneath his feet, sending a shockwave rippling through the cavern. His muscles bulged, veins surging with raw power. Dust and debris erupted in his wake as he launched himself at the monstrous spider with the force of a living missile. The spider moved. SHK-SHK-SHK! Its enormous legs skittered, shifting with terrifying speed. The cavern trembled as it reared up, its fangs dripping venom, its chitinous body casting an immense shadow over Volk. Volk twisted midair¡ª WHAM! His fist slammed into the spider''s leg. The impact was like a cannon blast, sending a shockwave through the cavern. Chitin cracked¡ªjust barely. The spider staggered, but it wasn''t enough to bring it down. It struck back¡ª SWOOSH! A massive leg swept toward him like a battering ram. Volk roared¡ª BOOM! He met the attack with a punch of his own. The sheer force of their collision sent both of them skidding back, cracking the stone beneath them. The air howled with the sound of their clash. Then the spider lunged. Its grotesque, fanged maw snapped forward, trying to take Volk''s head off in a single bite. SHING! Volk ducked, barely avoiding the monstrous fangs as they sank into the stone behind him. Venom hissed and bubbled as it melted through solid rock. He twisted¡ª BAM! BAM! BAM! A flurry of punches rained down on the spider''s head, each strike booming like thunder. But¡ª The spider didn''t even flinch. Its exoskeleton was too damn tough. S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Volk''s fists ached from the impact, but he grit his teeth and kept swinging. The spider retaliated. SPLAT! A web shot from its spinnerets¡ªfast, precise. Volk dodged¡ªbarely. The webbing splattered against the wall behind him, instantly hardening like steel. Another shot¡ª FWIP! Volk twisted, but the second web caught his arm. SNAP! He ripped it apart with brute strength¡ª But the spider was already on him. Its legs moved with inhuman speed, stabbing down like spears. CLANG! Volk raised his arms in a desperate guard as the first leg struck. The sheer force sent him skidding backward, his feet carving trenches into the stone. SHK! SHK! SHK! Another leg. Then another. A relentless onslaught. Each strike was like a battering ram, shaking the cavern, breaking the ground beneath them. Volk dodged, twisted, countered with crushing blows¡ª But it wasn''t enough. The spider wasn''t fighting like a beast. It was fighting smart. It was testing him. And then¡ª It changed tactics. SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT! A barrage of webbing shot toward him from multiple directions. Too many. Too fast. Volk tried to dodge, but¡ª SNAP! A webline wrapped around his leg. Then another. And another. SHINK! SHINK! SHINK! More and more strands latched onto his limbs, yanking him backward. His muscles bulged, veins straining as he tried to rip free¡ª But this time¡ª It wasn''t just one web. It was hundreds. The spider yanked. Volk slammed into the ground. The impact cratered the stone beneath him. He growled, struggling, roaring, muscles swelling with effort. But the spider was relentless. More webbing piled onto him, layer after layer, wrapping around his legs, his arms, his torso, his neck. The world darkened as the thick, sticky threads buried him alive. His struggles slowed. His roars became muffled. The last thing he saw before darkness swallowed him was the spider''s massive, gleaming eyes staring down at him. Then¡ª Everything went black. The darkness pressed in. The webbing constricted around him, suffocating, tightening like an iron cage. Volk could barely move. His muscles bulged, veins pulsing, but the sheer weight of the silk refused to give. His breath came in ragged growls. His body screamed for movement. His instincts roared at him. And then¡ª A single thought ignited in his mind. No. His blood boiled. His heart slammed against his ribs, each beat like a war drum. No! His teeth clenched. His bones creaked under the sheer pressure of his rage. NO! And then¡ª BOOM! A shockwave erupted from within the cocoon, the force of it shaking the cavern walls. Cracks spiderwebbed through the stone as Volk''s body twitched beneath the layers of silk. The spider, looming above, flinched. Its many eyes twitched in confusion. Its legs skittered uneasily across the rocky floor. Then¡ª The cocoon pulsed. A tremor ran through it. The spider froze. Another pulse¡ªstronger this time. THUMP! Then another. THUMP! And another. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The pulsations grew wild, violent, like something inside was about to detonate. The entire cocoon shook, trembling like it was about to explode. And then¡ª RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH! A monstrous roar split the air. The cavern shuddered. Then¡ª CRACK! A single, massive tear split through the cocoon. Strands of silk snapped like whipcords, writhing in the air like severed limbs. The spider screeched in alarm. It scrambled back, its legs clicking wildly as it sensed the danger. But it was too late. BOOOOOOM! The entire cocoon exploded. A blast of force tore through the cavern, sending rock and debris flying. Dust and shattered stone erupted outward as a single, monstrous figure emerged from the wreckage. Volk. His skin was drenched in sweat and webbing, his muscles swollen with fury. His chest heaved, his breath coming in heavy, animalistic growls. His entire body radiated power, steam rising from his skin. His eyes¡ª Were locked onto the spider alone. A slow, wicked grin spread across his angry green face. He flexed his fingers, feeling the raw strength coursing through his veins. Then, he took a step forward. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. The ground beneath him splintered. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. He took another. CRUNCH. A stone shattered beneath his foot. The spider flinched. Volk grinned wider. And then, in a voice that rumbled like a coming violent storm that ready to destroy everything on its path¡ª He laughed.