Strongest Radioactive System

Lak'Ran raised his hands, palms open wide, as if he were addressing a grand assembly. His voice boomed, commanding attention as it echoed across the crowd.

"Ah, so this is where we're headed, huh?" He began to pace slowly, his eyes scanning the gathered Orcs and Elves, his lips curling into a mocking smile.

"We all knew this was coming. But let me lay it out clearly for everyone."

He turned toward Volk, his sneer deepening.

"At the end of the day, this little Labor Orc, Volk, just hates us. Maybe it's because he feels inferior? Maybe it's because, no matter how many crystals he digs up from the ground, no matter how many Grum-gar forms he awakens, he'll never truly belong."

The crowd was silent, their eyes darting between Lak'Ran and Volk, waiting for more.

"And why? What drives this hatred of his?" Lak'Ran's voice took on a taunting, almost playful edge.

"I'll tell you why. It's simple. It's because, deep down, Volk is jealous. Yes, jealous. You see, he knows that even now, even after everything, his wife—Solluha'r—still carries Luk'Tar in her heart."

Lak'Ran laughed, the sound harsh and grating.

"Isn't that right, Volk? That's what eats you up inside, isn't it? That's what makes you want to get rid of us. You think you can erase Luk'Tar from her heart by accusing me—accusing us—of being traitors?"

The laughter continued, his voice booming over the quiet murmurs of the crowd. "Poor Volk, blinded by rage, driven by jealousy. He just can't stand the fact that he's second best!"

Volk clenched his fists, feeling the weight of Lak'Ran's words press down on him, but he stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Lak'Ran, burning with anger.

The crowd began to whisper amongst themselves, their voices rising like the hum of distant bees. "Volk doesn't have clear evidence," one Orc muttered.

"Maybe Lak'Ran's right," an Elf added. "What if Volk is just angry because of Luk'Tar?"

"I don't know," another voice chimed in, "Lak'Ran's always been loyal to the clan. Why would he betray us now?"

The whispers grew louder, swirling around Volk, filling his ears with doubt and suspicion.

He could hear every word, every skeptical murmur that cast shadows on his claims.

The weight of their doubt pressed on him, but Volk's resolve didn't waver. He couldn't afford to let it.

Lak'Ran grinned, reveling in the crowd's uncertainty. "See?" he said, spreading his arms wide.

"Even they can see it, Volk. Even they know the truth. You're just a jealous fool, trying to bring us down because you can't stand the thought of being second in Solluha'r's heart!"

But then Volk's lips curled into a small, defiant smile. "Heh."

He crossed his arms over his chest, his voice low but clear.

"Or maybe, Lak'Ran, you silenced your own son—Lhum'Baggar—because he found out you were the traitor."

The words hit Lak'Ran like a blow.

It was like a guillotine in his neck that landed from the high heavens.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of fury passing through his face before it was quickly masked.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as his voice rose into a furious roar. "LUK'TAAAAAAAAAR!"

The name echoed across the clearing like a shockwave that everyone—every single Orcs and Elves that there could hear and feel in the little hairs of their skins, and within moments, a figure emerged from the crowd with a thud.

Luk'Tar strode forward, tall and imposing, and his presence commanded immediate attention to everyone in the crowd.

But Volk's sharp eyes noticed it right away—the dark magic particles clinging to him like a shadow, just like Lak'Ran. Another traitor.

Luk'Tar's gaze bore into Volk, and he was filled with righteous fury. "Here I am again, Volk," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

"You only proved yourself right because you won the fight, surprising me with your Grum-gar form that was already in phase two. As an Orc who honors his tribe, I didn't respond to your accusations because I clearly lost due to your surprise.

"And now, you're still unsatisfied. You accuse me, my father, and now my brother?

"Lhum'Baggar sacrificed himself for this clan. He was willing to act as a decoy to lure the Warlocks away so the rest of us could escape. He was a hero, Volk. A hero! And now you stand here, accusing him of betrayal? Of all things?"

Volk narrowed his eyes, his mind immediately came up with a reason to answer Luk'Tar's claim.

"Your brother," he said slowly, "awakened his Grum-gar form in its third phase. The clan would never sacrifice someone with that kind of talent. Not unless they were fools."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, louder this time. Volk could hear them clearly.

"He's right," an Orc muttered. "A young one who's reached phase three of Grum-gar? That's rare. That kind of talent is valuable. Why would the tribe sacrifice someone like that?"

Another voice added, "The clan would never send someone with so much potential to die as bait. Lhum'Baggar should have been with us."

The murmurs grew louder, confusion and doubt spreading through the ranks as they questioned the story of Lhum'Baggar's supposed sacrifice.

Luk'Tar's face twisted in anger, his eyes flashing with frustration. "You're making this up, Volk!" he spat, taking a step closer. "You think you can just throw out accusations and twist the truth to fit your narrative?"

He paused, his eyes narrowing as an idea seemed to take shape in his mind. "Fine. You want proof? Let's settle this the old way, then. Hand-to-hand combat. No weapons, no magic.

Just you and me. If you beat me, I will fetch my brother myself."

The crowd fell silent, the tension in the air immediately went thick and palpable as they awaited Volk's response.

The challenge had been laid out, and there was no turning back now.

Luk'Tar's eyes gleamed with barely concealed malice as he raised his hand and shouted, "KORNUUM DRHAKAR!!!"

The words echoed in the stillness, and the meaning was clear.

This was a challenge of honor—a fight to settle the dispute once and for all.

Volk met Luk'Tar's gaze, his heart pounding in his chest.

He knew this was more than just a fight. It was a test of his convictions, a battle for the truth.

If he lost, the traitors would remain hidden, and Lhum'Baggar's fate would stay shrouded in darkness. But if he won… perhaps he could finally expose the lies that had been woven around the clan for so long.

The crowd shifted, forming a circle around the two Orcs. The murmurs of doubt and uncertainty fell silent as they waited for the inevitable clash.

Volk flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of the challenge settle on his shoulders.

He could sense the strength radiating from Luk'Tar, the darkness clinging to him like a second skin. But there was no turning back now.

He would face this head-on, no matter the cost.

Luk'Tar smirked, his confidence evident. "Let's see if you're truly as strong as you think you are, Volk. This time, I won't be surprised…"

Volk's eyes narrowed, his fists tightening.

The fight was about to begin.