Strongest Radioactive System

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—

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—just 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—the 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—there 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.