Strongest Radioactive System

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!!

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!!"