Volk stood amid the remains of the battle, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

The blood of the fallen beast pooled around his feet, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air.

His orcs were celebrating their hard-won victory, their cheers echoing off the cavern walls. But despite the triumph, Volk couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness inside him.

He thought that the second version would force him to enter his Radioactive form, but it turns out, it can’t.

It was defeated instantly.

Suddenly, he saw the familiar screen.

| Ding!

| Mission completed.

| Reward: Controlled Radiation in your Radioactive Form state is now given to the host. |

The words floated in his vision, but they did little to fill the void inside him.

The battle had ended too quickly. He hadn’t even had the chance to test his abilities or push his limits.

Instead, they had merely survived, overcoming the challenge through sheer brute force rather than skill.

Volk’s satisfaction was short-lived, and a strange hollowness filled his chest. ‘Was that it?’ he thought to himself, staring at the bloodied ground.

He had expected more—wanted more.

There was an undeniable itch under his skin, a craving for something greater, something that would truly challenge him. As these thoughts swirled in his mind, another notification appeared.

| Ding!

| New mission.

| Defeat and show dominance against the Grum-gar Dozer in its fourth Grum-gar evolution.

| Rewards: Team Grum-gar evolution.|

Volk’s heart skipped a beat. A new mission—and one that promised something called “Team Grum-gar evolution,” whatever that meant.

However, he had an idea.

Does that mean his team would get a Grum-gar form too?

He clenched his fists, feeling his pulse quicken with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

The prospect of another fight—an even more dangerous one—sent a thrill through him, but he couldn’t ignore the unsettling mystery of the reward.

What did “Team evolution” entail?

Would it change him?

His Dreadmaw Clan?

His musings were cut short by the rumble beneath his feet.

Rumble!

The cavern, which had been filled with the sounds of victory moments before, fell eerily silent once again.

The ground trembled violently, as though the earth itself was groaning in protest. Volk’s eyes widened, and he barked orders without hesitation.

“Get back!”

The orcs, instinctively trusting their leader, immediately scrambled backward, forming a defensive line.

Their earlier celebration was replaced by tense anticipation as they scanned the cavern for the source of the disturbance.

“Is it not the end yet?”

Grashk asked, his voice laced with disbelief. His grip tightened around his weapon as he glanced nervously at Volk.

Volk’s expression was grim as he shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

As if on cue, a massive, familiar laughter echoed through the cavern, sending shivers down the spines of the orcs.

It was a sound they had heard before—maniacal and mocking, filled with a twisted glee that chilled their blood.

”Kekekkekekkekeke! Nyekekekekekek!”

The air felt like it was closing in one direction with the tension as the orcs watched in horror.

The corpse of the three-headed beast that had been lying lifeless on the ground began to twitch.

Slowly, impossibly, it began to rise again, its massive form shaking off the remnants of death as if it were merely waking from a deep slumber.

“What in the gods’ names…?” one of the orcs muttered, his voice trembling with fear.

The beast’s flesh writhed and shifted, the red, fleshy humanoid creature atop the center head reassembling itself from the blood and gore.

Its body grew larger, more muscular, with veins bulging grotesquely beneath its skin.

The creature’s long ears twitched as it surveyed the orcs with a sinister grin, its eyes glinting with malice.

“You thought you had won,” the creature hissed, its voice dripping with contempt. “But you’ve only managed to anger Dozer—and me. I should thank you, really. Without your interference, I might have remained dormant, trapped within this beast’s decaying flesh. But now… now I am reborn.”

The orcs bristled at the creature’s words, but none dared to move.

Volk’s eyes narrowed as he studied the creature, trying to gauge its new power.

It was undeniably stronger than before—he could feel the oppressive weight of its presence, pressing down on them like a physical force.

The red humanoid creature seemed to delight in their fear, its grin widening as it began to speak again.

“Dozer, you see, has always had a taste for Hornless Orcs. It’s his favorite delicacy. The reason why? Because like you,”—the creature pointed a long, clawed finger at Volk and his tribe—”he has a Grum-gar form too.”

The orcs exchanged uneasy glances.

The term “Grum-gar” was not one they were familiar with, but the way the creature spoke it sent a chill through their bones.

Does that mean?

The orcs shuddered at the creature’s words, their fear mounting with each passing moment.

Grashk, his curiosity getting the better of him, spoke up. “If he’s so powerful, why didn’t he use that form earlier? We killed him twice! How come the three-headed dungeon boss couldn’t stop us?”

The creature’s head snapped toward Grashk, its eyes narrowing dangerously. “Do you really want to know?” it hissed, its voice laced with venom.

Volk and the other orcs braced themselves, unsure of what to expect.

The creature’s presence was overwhelming, and its words seemed to seep into their very souls, planting seeds of doubt and fear.

But despite their trepidation, the orcs couldn’t deny their curiosity. They wanted to know—needed to know—what they were up against.

The creature’s grin returned, wider and more sinister than before. “Kekekekeke… very well. I’ll tell you,” it said, its voice dripping with malevolence.

“Dozer is not just any beast. He is a Grum-gar—a creature born of ancient magic, a relic of a time when the world was young and the gods still walked among mortals. His power is tied to his consumption of flesh, particularly the flesh of Hornless Orcs. The more he devours, the stronger he becomes.

But to reach his full potential, to ascend to his true form, he must consume not just flesh, but the very essence of his prey.”

The creature’s eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as it watched the orcs’ reactions.

“And that is why he chose this form, this three-headed monstrosity. It allows him to consume more efficiently, to absorb the essence of his prey and grow stronger with each kill. But he is patient, oh so patient. He waits, biding his time, until he has consumed enough to evolve, to transcend his current form.”

The orcs exchanged uneasy glances, the creature’s words seemed fake.

Why the hell is he rambling useless sh*t?

“And now,” the creature continued, its voice rising to a fever pitch, “you have given him the opportunity to evolve once more. To ascend to his third Grum-gar form—the most powerful, the most terrifying. And when he does, there will be nothing left of you but bones and ash. Kekekekeke…”

The creature’s laughter echoed through the cavern, sending chills down the spines of the orcs.

It was a sound filled with madness, a twisted joy that seemed to revel in their impending doom.

Volk’s mind raced as he processed the creature’s words.

The creature’s laughter suddenly stopped, and it fixed Volk with a piercing gaze.

“You really want to know why Dozer didn’t evolve earlier?” it asked, its voice low and dangerous. “You see, you see, you see, I was lying all this time, because the truth is, the truth is, the truth is, I am, I am…”

The creatures leaned closer to it, like a madman.

“A WARLOCK!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep