Strongest Radioactive System

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—they 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—the 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—blades, 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—Ogres. 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—or someone—that 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—split them into smaller, more manageable groups—we 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—time 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.