Strongest Radioactive System

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—our brothers, our sisters—and 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—fear. 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—or 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.