Strongest Radioactive System

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—every 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.
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Behind him, his horde—the Ogres and Orcs—watched 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—every 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!