Strongest Radioactive System

Volk's voice rang out as the Horde stood gathered just beyond the cave's mouth, their breath clouding in the crisp morning air.

His crimson eyes swept over the mass of Orcs and Ogres, their rough-hewn armor glinting faintly in the pale sunlight. Weapons were gripped tightly in massive hands, and tension hummed through the group like a drawn bowstring.

"Be ready," Volk commanded, his tone sharp as steel. "Always."

The Horde roared their affirmation, a cacophony of guttural shouts that echoed off the rocky cliffs around them.

Orcs thumped their fists against their crude chest plates with loud clang-clang-clang! sounds, while Ogres slammed the hafts of their weapons into the ground, creating deep, resounding boom-boom vibrations that seemed to shake the earth itself. The noise was both chaotic and disciplined, a display of raw power and unity.

Volk's cloak flared as he raised a hand for silence, and the Horde stilled almost instantly.

He began to walk in front of them, his steps deliberate, his voice cutting through the mountain wind like a blade.

"The harpy people may not be the only danger," he said, his tone grave. "Do not look only to the skies. Do not let your guard fall because the cliffs look empty or the ground seems clear. Dangers do not always announce themselves."

The Horde murmured among themselves, glancing toward the jagged peaks and the open sky. A few Orcs shifted uncomfortably, their eyes flickering between the high, craggy cliffs and the shadowy slopes below.

"You will stay alert," Volk continued, his voice rising to ensure none could miss his words.

"If you hear something, see something, feel something—you report it immediately. If you hesitate, you'll die. And if you die, you'll weaken the Horde." His crimson eyes narrowed, the faint glow behind his hood flickering ominously. "I will not tolerate weakness."

The scarred Ogre grunted, his massive spiked club resting on his shoulder. "We'll march, Volk," he growled, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. "We'll stay sharp."

"Then move," Volk said, pointing down the rocky path ahead. "March."

The Horde fell into formation, their heavy boots pounding the earth with a steady thud-thud-thud.

.Armor clanged and creaked as they moved, the metallic din punctuated by the occasional grunt or growl.

Their eyes darted everywhere—up to the vast expanse of sky where clouds drifted lazily, down to the uneven ground littered with jagged stones, and across the ridges of the cliffs where shadows stretched and danced in the shifting light.

Volk walked at the head of the group, his dark cloak trailing behind him like the shadow of a predator.

He kept his gaze forward, but his ears remained tuned to the Horde's movements, every step, every clang, every faint breath.

His own senses stretched out across the rocky terrain, searching for anything that might be amiss.

Hours passed.

The sun climbed higher, casting harsh light across the barren landscape.

The Horde's pace was relentless, the sound of their march echoing endlessly through the mountain valleys.

The rocky path wound through narrow passes and opened onto sweeping ridges that overlooked the rugged expanse below.

Despite their vigilance, nothing appeared—no signs of life, no whispers of wings, no ambushes waiting to spring.

The Ogres grew restless first.

Their heavy bodies were built for brute force, not endless walking.

They grumbled to themselves, their massive weapons clinking against their backs.

The Orcs, too, began to falter in their focus, their eyes drifting more toward their own boots than the surrounding terrain.

Volk stopped suddenly, raising a hand. The Horde halted behind him with a chorus of surprised grunts and the sharp clang of weapons scraping against armor.

"Complacency will kill you faster than any enemy," Volk said, his voice cutting through their growing fatigue like a whip. He turned, his crimson gaze sweeping over the group.

"You think there's nothing out there because you haven't seen it? That's exactly what gets fools killed. Look up. Look around. Look down. Danger doesn't always announce itself with a roar."

The Horde straightened, their grumbles silenced. Some exchanged wary glances, their focus sharpening once again.

Volk continued.

"We move forward, but cautiously. This terrain is too open, too quiet. We need to know what lies ahead before we march into it blindly."

He turned toward a cluster of Orcs at the edge of the group, their wiry frames and keen eyes marking them as scouts.

"You four," he commanded, pointing at them. "Fan out. Search the cliffs, the slopes, and the skies. Look for anything—tracks, signs of movement, disturbances in the terrain. Report back immediately if you find anything."

The scouts nodded, their movements swift and efficient as they slipped away from the group.

They moved like shadows, their forms blending into the rugged landscape as they spread out to search the area. Volk turned back to the Horde. "The rest of you will wait here. Weapons ready. Eyes sharp."

The Horde obeyed, forming a loose circle with weapons drawn.

The air grew tense as the minutes dragged on, the silence broken only by the faint whisper of the wind and the occasional clink of shifting armor.

Some of the Orcs exchanged uneasy glances, their hands tightening on their weapons.

The Ogres stood stoic but watchful, their heavy breaths filling the void.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the first scout returned. He approached Volk with quick, sure steps, his expression grim.

"Nothing," the scout said, his voice low but steady. "No tracks. No signs of movement. The cliffs are empty."

Moments later, the other scouts returned, one by one, each with the same report. No traps. No enemies. No signs of life.

The Horde murmured uneasily, their earlier restlessness returning.

Volk listened to the scouts' reports without a word, his face unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood.

When the last scout finished speaking, he nodded once, his crimson gaze turning toward the distant horizon.

"Then we move forward," he said. His voice was calm, unshaken, but carried an edge that left no room for argument.

The Horde obeyed, their unease fading into silence as they fell into formation once more.

And so, they marched again, their footsteps echoing through the barren expanse, moving ever closer to whatever awaited them beyond the mountains.

Inside Volk's mind, a storm brewed.

The weight of his decisions pressed heavily on him, though he wore his stoic mask as if nothing troubled him. His crimson eyes remained forward, but his thoughts churned with guilt.

The truth gnawed at him like a parasite.

He had already dealt with the harpy people—slaughtered them all during the long, lonely nights when his horde slept in ignorance.

It was for their sake, he told himself. If he hadn't acted, the harpy people would have overwhelmed the horde, picking them apart from the skies with surgical precision.

Volk clenched his fists under his cloak, nails digging into his palms.

If it weren't for the cave's natural cover, he might have been forced to reveal his radioactive form—his greatest and most dangerous trump card—to every single member of his horde.

And that was unacceptable.

His radioactive form was a weapon, but it came with a price.

The raw, destructive energy he could unleash wasn't something he wanted his followers to witness, let alone understand.

It was power meant for enemies, not allies. If they saw it, fear could spread like a plague. Fear bred distrust, and distrust was poison to any leader.

He exhaled softly, a sound almost lost in the brisk wind.

But even as guilt and pragmatism warred within him, another thought struck him.

They needed an aerial assault force. As he glanced at the distant peaks and the open sky, a grim realization crept in.

If the harpy people had been more organized or numerous, even his covert actions might not have been enough. His horde lacked a way to counter threats that came from above.

The idea planted itself firmly in his mind. He would need a solution for the future—something that could keep his forces safe from aerial predators. But before he could think further, a sudden commotion broke his thoughts.

"Tracks!" one of the Orc scouts shouted, his voice sharp with urgency.

The scout came running back toward the group, his boots skidding on loose gravel. "Fresh tracks—nearby! Harpy people!"

The Horde erupted into murmurs and growls.

Weapons were adjusted, armor tightened. The scarred Ogre stepped forward, his massive form looming over the scout. "How fresh?" he demanded, his tone a mix of suspicion and eagerness.

The scout nodded quickly. "Fresh enough that they might still be here. Just over the ridge."

Before Volk could issue an order, his vision suddenly blurred.

Ding!

A translucent screen appeared before his eyes, faintly glowing with golden light. Experience tales with empire

The suddenness of it made him pause, though his expression betrayed nothing.

The text on the screen was sharp, clear, and impossible to ignore.

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Mission: Find the lair of the harpy people within thirty minutes.

Failure Consequences: The map to the elven continent will lose half of its information.

Rewards: Ten Aerial Assault Goblin Slaves.

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Volk's jaw tightened, but the message wasn't finished.

Another series of options appeared below the primary mission:

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Optional Timed Objectives:

Complete in 25 minutes: Lose one-quarter of map information. Rewards: 15 Aerial Assault Goblin Slaves.

Complete in 20 minutes: No map penalties. Rewards: 20 Aerial Assault Goblin Slaves.

Complete in 15 minutes: Bonus resources included. Rewards: 25 Aerial Assault Goblin Slaves.

Complete in 10 minutes: Enhanced Goblin Squadron. Rewards: 30 Elite Aerial Goblin Slaves.

Complete in 5 minutes: Maximum reinforcement potential. Rewards: 50 Elite Aerial Goblin Slaves with Artillery.