As the night deepened, the room was filled with a profound stillness, broken only by the soft, labored breaths of Solluha’r.

Volk’s initial euphoria began to wane as he realized something was amiss. He couldn’t feel the flow of Mana in his body anymore.

The sensation of energy that had surged through him during their union had vanished entirely, leaving him cold and empty.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t summon even a spark of the power he had felt before.

His eyes shifted to Solluha’r, who lay beside him.

Her once radiant skin now looked pale and drained, her chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. Her emerald green hair, once vibrant and flowing like a river of silk, now seemed dull and lifeless.

The sight filled Volk with dread.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice thick with worry.

He gently shook her, hoping for a sign of life, but she remained limp, her energy seemingly depleted.

A thousand thoughts raced through Volk’s mind, and a deep sense of panic began to set in.

Don’t tell me… she couldn’t handle the radiation from me?

He cursed himself silently.

I shouldn’t have pushed her so hard and should have known that my radiation might cause her harm even though she is the Nuclear Reactor Vessel.

He compared Solluha’r’s body to how she looked before—vital, energetic, and full of life—and now she was a shadow of that.

She wasn’t just tired; she was completely spent.

Her body had weakened to the point where it seemed as though she might never recover.

His heart pounded in his chest, along with his breath quickening.

He didn’t know what to do.

He had never felt this kind of helplessness before.

He promised he would always be strong, always seem in control, but now, looking at Solluha’r’s frail form, he felt powerless.

Again and again and again.

Suddenly, Solluha’r stirred. Her hand, though weak, reached out and touched his face, Volk could feel her palm warm against his skin.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a faint smile. “Don’t worry about me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“After three months of rest, we can do this again. But for now, I can’t… I don’t have any more Mana to give you. I just need a little rest.”

Volk felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was tempered by doubt. “Are you sure?” he asked, still uncertain.

Solluha’r giggled softly, her voice a little stronger now. “Yes, I’m sure,” she reassured him. She then wrapped her arms around him weakly, pulling him close.

Despite her weakness, she tried to comfort him, and Volk felt a little of his worry melt away.

Morning came, and Volk woke to find Solluha’r still sleeping. Her breathing was even, her face peaceful.

She looked better than she had the night before, and Volk felt some of his fears ease.

Perhaps what she had said was true—maybe she just needed time to recover.

Just as he began to relax, a loud shout echoed from outside.

“Kaz’rogal!”

The word rang through their bricked wall, and Volk’s heart skipped a beat. He recognized that name—it meant “Mightiest Natural Ability” in the language of his people.

Confused, Volk quickly dressed and hurried downstairs.

Outside, he was greeted by the sight of a large, muscular orc with wild, white hair standing at the entrance.

The old orc studied him with a piercing gaze, sizing him up.

“Looks like you are really our tribe’s Kaz’rogal this year, just like Thrand’or said,” the orc said with a hint of amusement in his voice. He nodded approvingly.

“You’ve already reached the second stage of Mag’Durotan in just one night. That’s impressive. Most of us can’t even reach the first stage after the first night with our lady.”

Volk blinked in surprise.

Second stage?

He hadn’t even realized he had advanced.

His confusion must have shown on his face because the old orc chuckled and stepped forward.

“My name is Gozorm’al,” the white-haired orc continued, his voice carrying the weight of years of experience. “Welcome to the Wildling Camp. I am your elder.”

Gozorm’al reached out and placed a finger on Volk’s chest.

For a moment, nothing happened, but then—Thum!—Volk felt a surge of warm, heated blood that pulse from his chest spreading all over his body, like a deep, resonant power that seemed to reverberate in his bones.

“That’s how you know how strong you are,” Gozorm’al said, pulling back his hand with a satisfied grunt. He then turned and motioned for Volk to follow.

“Come, there’s much to discuss. I will tell you what your responsibilities are as a warrior of our tribe.”

Volk hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the tower where Solluha’r slept.

She seemed stable for now, and he knew he needed to understand what was happening to him.

With a nod, he followed old man Gozorm’al, determined to learn what he needed to protect himself—and her.

As they walked through the camp, Volk’s mind raced with questions.

What did it mean to be a Kaz’rogal?

How had he advanced so quickly?

And more importantly, what did that mean for Solluha’r, who had given so much of herself to him?

Before he could ask, a glowing system screen appeared in front of him, hovering in mid-air:

| Name: Volk Mog’ger

| Status: Hornless Orc Tribe Kaz’rogal (Current Year)

| Age:  18

| Level: Second Stage Mag’Durotan

| Passive Ability: Radioactive Form (Duration: Five Minutes) |

Volk was confused as he followed Gozorm’al through the camp.

The revelation that he had advanced to the Second Stage Mag’Durotan overnight was shocking enough, but what truly baffled him the most was the increase in his Radioactive Form’s duration.

Five minutes?

Last time he checked, it was only two minutes. How could it have increased so drastically?

Could it be because of Solluha’r? he wondered.

The connection between them had clearly amplified his power, but to this extent?

It seemed almost unbelievable.

He couldn’t help but feel a massive excitement to it.

If simply being with her could make him this strong, what would happen if they repeated the process?

Would he continue to grow in power? And more importantly, what would that mean for her?

As these thoughts churned in his mind, his gaze returned to the glowing screen floating in front of him.

The sight of the five-minutes duration on his Radioactive Form nearly made his heart stop again.

Don’t tell me… he thought.

Does that mean if I really level up my rank as an Orc Warrior, the duration of my Radioactive Form will increase too?

It seems Volk needed to know if there was a way to help her recover faster, but he was hoping there was a way to avoid putting her through that again.

He couldn’t just stand by and wait for months while she lay weakened.

Respectfully, Volk approached Gozorm’al, his voice earnest and laced with concern. “Elder Gozorm’al, how can I help my partner recover? Is there any way to shorten the three-month wait?”

The old orc paused, turning to face Volk with a knowing grin.

He let out a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the trees, drawing the attention of a few nearby warriors. “Ah, you’re like the others,” Gozorm’al said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Impatient, just like I was when I was young.”

Volk felt his cheeks flush slightly, but he held his ground, determined to find an answer.

Gozorm’al’s laughter slowly subsided, and he regarded Volk with a more serious expression.

“To help your lover recover,” Gozorm’al began, “you must indeed wait for the three months to pass. Her body needs time to replenish the Mana she expended. It is the natural way, and there is wisdom in patience.”

Volk’s heart sank at the thought of waiting that long, but he nodded, preparing to accept the elder’s words. However, Gozorm’al suddenly paused, a glint of something else in his eye.

“Or…” Gozorm’al continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, “you could seek out Magical Crystals. These crystals contain immense amounts of Mana. If your partner consumes them, she could recover her energy much faster—perhaps even in a matter of weeks instead of months.”

Volk’s eyes widened in surprise. “Magical Crystals?” he echoed, feeling a surge of hope. But almost as quickly, his excitement was dampened by Gozorm’al’s next words.

“But,” the elder cautioned, “you are not allowed to leave the tribe’s boundaries or enter the catacombs yet. You’re not ready. You need to prove yourself with contributions to the tribe and grow stronger before you can venture into the dangerous areas where these crystals are found.”

Volk clenched his fists in frustration, his earlier hope slipping away. He had never been good at waiting, especially when someone he cared about was suffering.

But he just nodded.

Gozorm’al seemed to sense Volk’s inner thoughgs inside.

With a stern expression, he reached to his side and drew out a weapon—a long, curved blade with intricate designs carved into its hilt. The old orc flipped the weapon in his hand before tossing it at Volk’s feet. The blade landed in the grass with a solid *thunk*, the metal gleaming in the sunlight.

“Your training starts here,” Gozorm’al declared, his voice carrying the weight of command. “If you wish to be strong enough to protect those you care about, get a crystal outside the tribe or enter a catacomb, you must first learn to master yourself and your power. Only then will you be ready to seek out what you desire.”

Volk stared down at the weapon below him. He had come here seeking answers, and in a way, he had found them. But they weren’t the answers he had hoped for.

Even still, witb a deep breath, he bent down and picked up the blade. Its weight was comforting in his hand, a reminder of the strength he would need to wield. He looked up at Gozorm’al, with an uknown determination hardening in his gaze.

“I’m ready,” Volk said, his voice steady.

Gozorm’al nodded approvingly, making his lips curles nto a small smile. “Good. Let’s see if you have what it takes to be the Kaz’rogal we need.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep