Strongest Radioactive System

The goblins worked tirelessly, their nimble fingers flying across wood, metal, and rope as they shaped the final components of their strange contraptions. Each step seemed to breathe life into their creations. The Horde stood by, watching with a mix of skepticism and curiosity as the goblins, drenched in sweat and caked in dirt, moved with a determination that defied their frail forms.

At last, the lead goblin—tiny and squeaky but commanding respect among its kind—stood before the largest structure they had built. It raised its arms high, calling for attention, and squeaked out, "Done! We're done!"

The rest of the goblins collapsed onto the ground, exhausted but victorious. Before them stood a series of crude but sturdy harnesses, wings crafted from wood and tightly stretched cloth, and strange devices that gleamed faintly with magical energy. The contraptions looked bizarre, a mix of primitive engineering and faint traces of magic, but there was no denying they were functional.

Volk stepped forward, his crimson eyes scanning the contraptions. His expression was unreadable as he examined the makeshift gliders and equipment. "These will work?" he asked, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs of the Horde.

The lead goblin puffed out its chest, though it still trembled under Volk's gaze. "Y-Yes, Warchief!" it stammered. "They're not perfect, but they'll let your warriors fly short distances! Enough to fight those in the sky or get higher ground quickly!"

The Horde erupted into murmurs of astonishment. Orcs and ogres alike leaned closer, muttering to one another as they eyed the strange devices. The idea of flying was as foreign to them as the stars themselves, and yet here it was—a possibility crafted by the most unlikely of hands.

Volk narrowed his eyes, looking at the goblins with a mix of surprise and grudging respect. "You've outdone yourselves," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. "If these work, we might stand a chance."

The Horde watched as Volk gestured for the goblins to demonstrate the devices. Two of the goblins scrambled forward, picking up a pair of the crude gliders. They strapped themselves in with practiced ease, their tiny hands working deftly to tighten the leather straps around their waists and shoulders. Then, with an audible gulp, they flapped the wings experimentally and launched themselves off a nearby ledge.

For a moment, there was only silence. The goblins soared through the air in clumsy, wobbling arcs, their squeals of terror ringing out. But then, as they adjusted their movements, they began to glide more smoothly. The Horde erupted into cheers and laughter, watching the goblins land on the ground with wide, triumphant grins.

Volk's lips twitched into a faint smile. He turned to his Horde, his voice booming. "You've seen it with your own eyes! These goblins have given us the means to fight on even ground—no, above ground! With this, we will hunt those who think themselves untouchable!"

The Horde roared in approval, their voices echoing through the cavern. The goblins, emboldened by the reaction, hurried forward to distribute the equipment. Each orc and ogre took their turn donning the gliders and harnesses. The straps were rough and the fit awkward, but the warriors adjusted quickly, their hulking forms now adorned with the crude yet functional devices.

The sight was almost comical—giant, muscular orcs and ogres awkwardly flapping wooden wings like oversized birds—but the Horde took it seriously. They adjusted their stances, tested the balance of the contraptions, and practiced small jumps to get a feel for the gliders.

Volk stood at the center of it all, his sharp gaze assessing each warrior as they adapted to the new equipment. He gave pointers where needed, his commanding presence ensuring that no one dared to slack off. Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, he felt a strange sense of pride as he watched his Horde transform before his eyes.

The lead goblin scurried up to Volk, its yellow eyes gleaming with excitement. "Warchief," it said breathlessly, "there's more! The tools—my father's tools—we used them to make these, but there's still potential! If we had more time, more resources, we could—"

"Enough," Volk interrupted, though not unkindly. He placed a heavy hand on the goblin's shoulder, nearly knocking it over. "You've done more than enough for now. Rest. You've earned it."

The goblin nodded quickly, retreating to join its exhausted comrades. Volk turned back to his Horde, his voice rising above the clamor. "Warriors of Lyern! We are no longer bound to the earth! With these wings, we will hunt our enemies in their own domain! Prepare yourselves—our fight is far from over!"

The Horde erupted into another cheer, their voices shaking the very walls of the cavern. For the first time in what felt like ages, hope burned brightly among them. And as Volk looked out over his transformed Horde, he allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction.

Volk raised his hand, silencing the cacophony of cheers from his Horde. His crimson eyes scanned the warriors before him, now awkwardly outfitted with the goblin-made gliders. The initial novelty had faded, replaced with a sense of purpose. But Volk wasn't one to leave things to chance.

"These contraptions," he began, his voice booming through the cavern, "are untested in real combat. The sky is not forgiving. If you cannot handle these wings, you will fall. And if you fall, you die."

The weight of his words pressed on the Horde. The orcs and ogres stiffened, gripping their new gear tightly. The goblins, still gathered near the edges of the cavern, exchanged nervous glances.

Volk let the silence linger for a moment, then barked, "We test them now!"

The command was met with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Volk pointed toward the cavern's upper ledges, natural platforms jutting out like jagged steps toward the ceiling. "Get up there. All of you equipped with wings, climb. You'll jump and glide. No excuses, no hesitation."

The Horde obeyed immediately, their movements swift despite the cumbersome gliders. Ogres lumbered toward the walls, their powerful arms hauling their massive bodies upward with surprising ease. Orcs followed, their wiry frames scaling the jagged rocks with practiced agility. The cavern echoed with the scrape of boots, the clang of armor, and the occasional grunt of effort.

Below, Volk watched with a critical eye, arms crossed over his chest. He observed every misstep, every hesitation. The goblins, too small to climb, scurried to the base of the walls, shouting haphazard advice. "Don't lean too far forward!" one squeaked. "Flap harder on the left!" another piped up.

When the first ogre reached the top of a ledge, Volk barked, "Jump!"

The ogre hesitated for a heartbeat, looking down at the dizzying drop. Then, with a roar, it leapt into the void. The crude wings spread wide, catching the air with a hollow whumph. The ogre's descent was shaky, the wings wobbling under the strain of its massive body. But it glided nonetheless, landing with a thunderous crash on the ground below.

The cavern erupted into cheers. Volk raised his hand again, silencing them. "Next!" he ordered.

One by one, the Horde leapt from the ledges. Some glides were smooth, others chaotic. An orc spiraled out of control, landing face-first with a loud thud that sent dust flying. Another overshot the landing zone, slamming into a rock wall with a painful crack. Volk's sharp gaze tracked each attempt, his mind calculating who was adapting and who was struggling.

"You call that flying?" Volk snarled at one orc, who had barely managed to glide a few feet before crashing. "Try again, and this time, act like you've got more than mud between your ears!"

The orc, battered but determined, scrambled back up the wall.

As the tests continued, Volk began to see patterns. The ogres, though strong, struggled to maintain control due to their size and weight. The orcs, more agile, adapted faster but lacked the brute strength to power through turbulence. The goblin-made contraptions were far from perfect, but they were functional. It was a start.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Volk raised his hand. "Enough!"

The Horde gathered before him, sweat-soaked and bruised but standing tall. The goblins shuffled nervously at the edges, their yellow eyes darting toward Volk as if awaiting judgment.

"Not bad," Volk said, his tone grudging. "You're clumsy, slow, and half of you look like you're trying to wrestle the wind instead of glide on it. But you'll learn. You'll adapt. Because if you don't, you'll die."

His words were harsh, but the Horde responded with a unified roar of determination. The orcs beat their chests, and the ogres pounded the ground with their massive fists.

Volk turned his gaze toward the goblins, his expression softening ever so slightly. "These wings—your work—have given us a fighting chance. You've proven your worth to this Horde."

The goblins' faces lit up, their chests puffing with pride. One of them, the lead goblin who had overseen the construction, stepped forward. "W-Warchief," it stammered, "we can make them better! Stronger! Just give us more time and—"

"You'll get your time," Volk interrupted. "But for now, we've got more work to do."

He turned back to the Horde, his crimson eyes blazing. "This was just the beginning. You've tasted the sky. Now, we master it. Prepare yourselves—we move out at dawn."