Orzuk smiled, though his expression was now more serious. “You’ll need to help out around the clan, contribute to the tribe. It’s part of your responsibility as Kaz’rogal. You might assist with weaponry, help with food distribution, or even help build towers for the elves. You can choose where you want to contribute—that’s your reward as Kaz’rogal.

But remember, even though you have the title, your contribution needs to be consistent. The crystal records it all. If you get lazy, you won’t be given the same amount of Magic Crystal as others who are contributing.”

Volk was speechless.

This was more complex than he had imagined.

The title of Kaz’rogal came with privileges, but it also came with responsibilities that he hadn’t considered. Before he could ask more questions, Orzuk clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck, Volk. Don’t let that old man get to you,” he said with a grin before turning and walking away, leaving Volk standing alone in the bustling area outside the training ground.

As Orzuk’s figure disappeared into the crowd, Volk’s gaze shifted around the camp.

This wasn’t the typical orc settlement he had expected.

Instead of tents and crude huts, the tribe lived in solid houses made of brick, some towering high above the ground, while others were nestled closely together, forming narrow alleyways.

Some parts of the camp were clean and orderly, with well-maintained roads and tidy homes, while others were dirty, with mud and refuse littering the streets.

Towers loomed in the distance, their stone faces weathered by time, and Volk could see orcs moving about on them, standing watch or maintaining the structure.

Volk began walking, taking in the sights and sounds of the camp.

The air was thick with the smell of smoke, wood, and something else—something metallic and sharp that he couldn’t quite place. His steps led him through a maze of medieval establishments.

He passed by a blacksmith’s forge, where the rhythmic clang! clang! of hammer on metal echoed in the air.

The blacksmith, a hulking orc with soot-stained green skin, was pounding away at a glowing blade, sparks flying with each strike.

Volk considered stopping to help, imagining himself learning the craft, but something pulled him further along.

Next, he passed a construction site where orcs were working together to build a new tower.

The sound of stone grinding against stone, the creak of wooden beams being lifted into place, and the shouts of orcs coordinating their efforts filled the air.

Volk thought about joining in, helping to erect a structure that would stand for generations, but somehow, his body kept walking.

As he wandered, he passed by a food distribution area, where orcs were handing out baskets of vegetables and grains.

The scene reminded him of how little he had actually eaten since arriving in this world. He thought about the meals he had back on Earth, the simple pleasure of eating, and he felt a pang of nostalgia. But the orcs here didn’t seem to eat much, relying more on Mana for sustenance.

This fact only deepened his curiosity.

Finally, Volk’s wandering brought him to a meat establishment.

The sight made him stop in his tracks.

The building was sturdier than the others, with thick wooden beams and a sign hanging over the door that depicted a slab of meat on a bone.

Inside, the air was cooler, the temperature maintained by some kind of enchantment, and the scent of raw meat hung heavy in the air.

Thunk! Thunk!

The sound of cleavers hitting cutting boards echoed through the space.

The walls were lined with hooks from which hung large cuts of meat—slabs of red flesh, some with bone still attached, others neatly trimmed and wrapped in parchment.

It was a surprising sight in a tribe that didn’t seem to value eating much.

As Volk stood there, taking it all in, an orc wearing a butcher’s apron approached him.

The orc was large, even by orc standards, with broad shoulders and a belly that hinted at a life spent indulging in the goods he sold. His skin was a deep green, almost the color of moss, and his tusks were chipped and worn, suggesting a life of hard work. His eyes were sharp, though, glinting with intelligence and curiosity.

“Looking to buy some meat?” the butcher asked, his voice rough like gravel.

Volk shook his head, still trying to make sense of it all. “No, I… I was just wondering why there’s meat here. I thought orcs didn’t eat much, just vegetables and such.”

The butcher laughed, a deep, booming sound that filled the small shop. “Ha! You must be new around here, kid. Orcs are omnivores, kid. We love meat, but it’s not easy to come by. These cuts come from the creatures in the forest, but you can’t just eat them raw.

They’re saturated with hazardous magic particles, the same kind that’s out there beyond the tribe’s borders.”

Volk’s curiosity deepened. “Hazardous magic particles? You mean like the kind of magic that’s in the air?”

The butcher nodded, wiping his hands on his apron. “Exactly. The forest outside is teeming with it. Everything out there—plants, animals, the very air you breathe—it’s all charged with those hazardous magic particles. It’s dangerous to eat these things without proper preparation. That’s where I come in.

I cleanse the meat, making it safe for consumption. It takes time, but it’s worth it for a good meal.”

Volk was fascinated.

The thought of eating meat again, something so familiar from his life on Earth, made his mouth water. But the idea of radioactive properties intrigued him even more.

Could his body, altered by this world, handle the radiation? Or could it somehow absorb it, like how he harnessed the Mana in the air?

After all, isn’t he a radioactive creature?

As the butcher continued to explain the process, Volk’s vision suddenly blurred, and a familiar ding! rang in his ears.

A notification appeared in front of his eyes, the words glowing softly in the dim light of the shop:

| Ding!

| Would you like to use the Radioactive Absorption ability? |

Volk stood in the butcher’s shop, his curiosity still piqued by the radioactive properties of the meat hanging around him that he ignored the system screen in front of him.

When he turned his attention to it, he saw the reward that was given to him last time but something inside him made him refuse it. He wasn’t here for power—at least not right now.

He wanted to understand this world, to learn more about the dangers lurking beyond the safety of the tribe’s borders.

“Huh,” Volk said, as if musing aloud. “So that’s the danger outside, huh? But… can’t we find places with less of these hazardous magic particles? You know, better places for food?”

The butcher, who had been wiping down a cleaver, paused and shook his head slowly. “It ain’t that simple, kid. You don’t get it yet. We’re hunted, see? By the two strongest rulers of this realm. Dark Witches and Red Warlocks.

To them, we’re like their favorite prey. Even if we found somewhere without hazardous magic particles, it wouldn’t matter. Those bastards would track us down eventually. The only places they avoid are the ones like this—saturated with radioactive energy. So, we’ve got no choice but to stay in these dangerous areas. Keeps us hidden, keeps us alive… for a while, at least.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep