Strongest Radioactive System

The forest had erupted into chaos.

The unnatural peace that once weighed on them was now gone, replaced by a cacophony of sound and movement that sent shivers down spines and rattled bones.

Volk stood at the head of his massive horde, his radioactive glow flaring brighter in warning as his sharp gaze snapped upward.

From above, a howling wind began to sweep through the canopy.

The air itself seemed to grow claws. Leaves scattered like startled birds, spinning through the air as though desperate to flee.

Then—

WHOOSH.

Something streaked down from the sky, slicing through the branches with deadly precision.

A single, blackened shape whistled as it fell, followed by an explosive BOOM that sent dirt and debris flying into the air.

An Ogre roared as it stumbled back, its armored flesh now dotted with long, thin gashes where the wind itself had struck.

Volk's glowing eyes narrowed into slits. "What was that?"

Soon, the Sky Darkens

It began slowly, subtly, like the first drops of rain before a storm. More shapes—dark and darting—cut through the air above them, their speed so great they blurred against the sky.

No one could make out what they were, but they moved with purpose, circling like birds of prey.

Then the wind came.

SHRRRK!

The first gust hit with the force of a whip. It wasn't a natural breeze—no, this was magic, a slicing torrent of wind that tore at their ranks.

An unlucky Orc near the front staggered back, howling in pain as blood sprayed from his shoulder where the wind had cut him like a blade.

"RAISE YOUR SHIELDS!" Volk bellowed, his deep, commanding voice booming like thunder through the clearing. His command echoed above the chaos, a clear order in the midst of confusion.

The attack intensified. More unseen forces—WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH—began to rain down from above.

Each streaking shape brought devastation: strange objects that struck the ground like stones hurled by giants, exploding into bursts of dirt and shrapnel.

"What IS THIS!?" roared an Ogre, his voice shaking with confusion and pain as another magical gust swept past, slicing through his massive arm.

Blood sprayed, and his roar turned to a pained growl as he dropped to one knee.

Volk's eyes darted through the chaos. He still couldn't see the attackers.

Were they beasts?

Mages?

Or some new, unseen foe?

The creatures above were swift—too swift to follow with the eye—and their wind magic struck from all angles, unpredictable and relentless.

The ground itself was turning into a death zone.

THUD. Another projectile struck the earth, shaking the ground beneath their feet. An unlucky Orc near the impact site was flung back like a rag doll, his body broken and crumpled.

Ogres, massive as they were, stumbled as the shockwaves reached them.
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And still—

SHRRAAAK!

The slicing wind magic continued, cutting through their flesh in thin, jagged lines. At first, the wounds seemed shallow, but they burned.

They stung.

Blood poured freely, turning the forest floor a dark, wet red.

Volk's radioactive energy flared violently. His glowing aura pulsed like an angry heartbeat, illuminating the chaos around him.

His sharp teeth ground together as he surveyed his faltering horde. His army was powerful—Ogres, Orcs, brutes of the battlefield—but this attack was insidious.

It came from above, from unseen enemies who struck with speed and precision.

"SHIELDS!" Volk roared again, his voice echoing with wrath. "DEFENSIVE FORMATION!"

The Orcs obeyed immediately.

Barking in their guttural tongue, they locked their shields together in a tight, overlapping wall of iron and wood.

The Ogres followed suit, using their massive, armored forearms to shield themselves and crouching low, forming makeshift barriers of flesh and stone.

The sound of wind magic slicing through the air became deafening.

Each gust slammed against the shields like an invisible hammer, sending vibrations through the ranks.

The Orcs grunted under the force of each strike, their muscles straining to hold their ground.

"STAY LOW!" Volk barked, his voice like iron. He planted his feet firmly in the ground, his massive form unmoving as the wind whipped past him. "HOLD YOUR POSITIONS! THEY CANNOT BREAK US!"

But even as Volk commanded, his mind raced.

The attacks weren't stopping. If anything, they were growing stronger. The wind's fury became sharper.

The streaking projectiles fell faster, harder, each explosion shaking the very earth beneath their feet.

Volk clenched his fists, his radioactive power rippling wildly around him like a storm barely contained. Who were these attackers? How were they so coordinated? He didn't know. For all his experience, for all his strength, this was something new.

He could feel it—their intent. Whoever was up there wasn't just attacking. They were testing him. Testing them.

The slicing winds weren't fatal, not yet. The falling projectiles were aimed to scatter, to injure, to overwhelm—not to kill.

Volk's brow furrowed deeply, his eyes glowing brighter with rage. "They're toying with us," he muttered under his breath, his voice a growl.

Another shockwave rocked the ground, and another Ogre roared in pain, his massive back struck by the brunt of the attack.

The shield formation was holding, but just barely.

The Orcs crouched low, teeth gritted, as their shields buckled under the repeated pressure of the attacks.

Blood dripped from cuts and gashes where the wind had found its way through. Some shields began to splinter, their wood cracking with every impact.

The Ogres fared no better. Though their bodies were enormous and their skin like armor, the constant barrage was wearing them down. They growled, they cursed, but they did not falter.

Volk stood tall in the center of it all. His radioactive aura flared brighter and brighter, its sickly glow searing into the darkness. His fists clenched tighter as his teeth bared into a snarl.

"IS THIS ALL YOU HAVE?!" Volk roared at the unseen attackers, his voice splitting through the chaos like a jagged bolt of lightning. His challenge echoed through the forest, daring whatever was up there to show itself.

The wind answered.

Another slicing gust swept past him, tearing a line across his cheek. The cut was shallow, but it stung. Volk's radioactive glow flared in anger.

The horde continued to hold, but Volk knew their options were dwindling.

The attacks were unrelenting.

Their shields were their only defense, but how long could they hold out? How long before exhaustion set in? How long before the enemy struck in earnest?

Volk growled low in his throat, his glowing eyes scanning the sky, searching for answers. His mind raced through possibilities, through plans, but every option felt thin, desperate.

For now, all they could do was hold.

The wind howled again, the projectiles fell faster.

Volk realized something, is this a curse of that human?

Is it the beginning? Or the system punishment to him?