Strongest Radioactive System

As Volk stood there, watching the last drop of his blood seep into the glowing crystal, a familiar chime echoed in his mind.

| Ding!

The notification was sharp and clear, cutting through the lingering strange heavy atmosphere in the catacomb.

| Mission completed.

| Reach and drip some blood first on the newly forming crystal deep in the dungeon within thirty minutes.

| Rewards: The host will always be sent to a dimension near where the Nuclear Reactor Vessel will be sent to.

| Failure: Death of everyone in the Dreadmaw Clan, including the host.

| Status: Completed. |

Volk blinked, reading the words over again. Immediately, sigh of relief.

Nuclear Reactor Vessel?

Solluha'r?

What the hell did that mean?

He didn't know.

But as long as the reward wasn't death, he was willing to accept whatever bizarre fate the system had in store for him.

The alternative was something far worse.

He shook his head, pushing away the gnawing thoughts.

Survival was enough for now.

Suddenly, before he could ponder further, a sharp shockwave erupted from the crystal.

It rippled through the room, knocking a few of the Orcs off balance.

Volk's body tensed, instinctively stepping back, but the strange force tugged at him.

He felt... light.

Too light.

Like his body was no longer tethered to the ground. His boots no longer felt heavy, his muscles no longer weighed down by the usual burden of battle and fatigue.

Grashk was the first to notice.

His eyes widened, his tusks trembling slightly as he pointed across the room.

"Grok'Thar! What is happening to you?"

Everyone's gaze shot to Grok'Thar, who was staring at his hands in confusion and horror.

His skin—once a robust, deep green—was melting.

Or at least, that's what it looked like. Green liquid dripped from his arms, pooling around his feet.

Grok'Thar looked up at Grashk, his eyes wild with panic.

"I-I don't know!" Grok'Thar stammered. His voice quivered with terror. "The same thing happening to you, Grashk!"

Grashk's head jerked down to look at his own hands.

His skin, too, was melting—thick, viscous streams of green liquid pouring from his body, forming small puddles beneath him.

His muscles quivered as if trying to hold together, but the strange fluid kept leaking out.

Volk felt a deep sense of dread rise in his chest.

He was breathing heavily, immediately his hand instinctively gripped his weapon.

Something was very, very wrong.

This wasn't just the system anymore—he could feel that something more sinister was at play.

He glanced around at the others. Grok'Thar.

Grashk.

Even Grounad.

They were all starting to dissolve, the green liquid spreading across the stone floor like some cursed ooze.

"What... what the hell is going on?" Grok'Thar's voice was panicked, his eyes darting around as if searching for answers in the chaos. "Why is this happening?"

One by one, the Dreadmaw Clan Orcs began to shout in confusion. Their voices overlapped in a cacophony of fear and bewilderment.

"Why is my skin melting?" one of them shouted, stumbling backward.

"I can feel it! I can feel my body slipping away!" another screamed, his voice cracking with terror as the green ooze sloughed off his arms.

Even Grounad, who had always been steady and resilient, was losing his composure. Explore hidden tales at m,v l'e-m|p| y r

His skin, too, was melting away, leaving streaks of green running down his face and chest.

He looked to Volk, desperate for some explanation, some reassurance. But Volk had none to give.

He could only stare in horror as his own body began to feel the strange sensation, as if something were peeling away from him.

Yet no pain. Just... the eerie lightness.

For a moment, the tension in the air was unbearable.

Orcs—proud warriors of the Dreadmaw Clan—stood frozen, paralyzed by a fear that none of them had ever encountered before.

The catacombs that had moments ago been filled with victorious shouts and the sounds of battle now held nothing but the frantic gasps and whispers of panic.

Volk's mind raced. He had fought monsters, faced death countless times, but this—this was beyond anything he had ever experienced.

The system's messages, the strange power of the crystal, the sudden melting... It all felt like some twisted joke, one that was getting out of hand fast.

Volk finally spoke, his voice cutting through the growing chaos. "Everyone... calm down!" His voice was strained, but it held authority. "We need to figure out what's happening. Keep your heads together!"

But the panic in their eyes told him that no words would settle the growing terror.

It was as if the very core of their being—the strength that defined them as Orcs—was slipping away, replaced by a sensation of helplessness they had never known.

Volk glanced down at his own body, finally noticing it himself.

His skin wasn't green anymore.

The familiar, deep green hue that had defined him for so long... was gone.

In its place, there was a pale, almost ashen color, like life had been drained from him. His limbs, while still functional, moved more fluidly, as if a weight had been lifted.

The once oppressive heat in the dungeon didn't bother him, and he realized with a start that he could breathe more easily.

"What...?" he whispered, shaking his head, trying to make sense of it all. Then louder, he said, "Why is your skin not green anymore?"

The words echoed through the chamber. The other Orcs—still dripping with the strange liquid—looked around at each other.

Slowly, the realization dawned on them.

One by one, they lifted their arms, their eyes going wide as they saw their own pale skin, the green tint that had been a symbol of their heritage, their strength, gone.

"Is this some kind of magic?" Grounad muttered, his voice shaking. "What the hell happened to us?"

Grashk, his eyes still wide with shock, turned to Volk. "I feel... lighter. I can move faster, but... what does this mean? What have we become?"

The air was thick with confusion, but in that moment, another chime echoed in Volk's mind.

| Ding!

| The host's body is now cleansed by an unknown high-level radioactivity.

| Level too low to be recognized. |

Volk swallowed hard, his throat dry. Radioactivity?

His body... had been contaminated all this time?

He didn't fully understand it, but the message was clear—something had changed.

Something inside them had been altered in ways they couldn't yet comprehend.

He clenched his fists, feeling the strength in his arms, but also the strange lightness that permeated his every movement.

It was disorienting, as if his body wasn't quite his own anymore.

The other Orcs looked to Volk, their eyes filled with uncertainty.

They had followed him into this dungeon, faced the horrors alongside him, and now they were forever changed. But for better or for worse, that was the question that loomed over them all.

"Volk..." Grounad started, his voice hesitant. "What do we do now?"

Volk stood silent for a moment.

Are they marked?

He felt danger.

But he knew they couldn't turn back now.

Whatever had happened, it was tied to this dungeon, tied to the strange crystals and the system's mission.

Finally, Volk looked up, his eyes hardening with resolve. "We stand together," he said firmly.