“YOU REALLY!!”

Zenveil’s voice was a thunderclap in the cavern, filled with a fury that echoed off the jagged walls.

Before Volk could react, the Warlock and his monstrous steed, Dozer, were already upon him.

The air split with a booming sound, and in the blink of an eye, Zenveil’s sneering face was inches from Volk’s.

Bang!

The massive paw of the three-headed beast, controlled with precision by Zenveil’s dark magic, swung toward Volk with blinding speed.

KaBang!

The impact was like a boulder colliding with Volk’s chest.

The force drove him deep into the earth, with the ground swallowing him in a cloud of dust and debris.

His bones groaned under the heavy pressure, and for a moment, the world was nothing but a blur of pain.

His mind spun, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue. But even as the world dimmed around him, Volk clung to consciousness, his heart pounding in defiance.

He wasn’t dead.

Not yet.

GRAAAAAAHHHHH!!!

The other Orcs, standing at the ready, felt the tremor in the ground as Volk was buried beneath it.

Rumble!

They knew he was still alive, and could feel the pulse of his life force even beneath the tons of rock and dirt.

Without hesitation, they turned their attention to Zenveil, ignoring the snarling beast in front of them.

Their eyes gleamed with a single-minded determination.

They were now Grum-gar Orcs, born and bred not for battle anymore, but violence.

They wouldn’t wait for Dozer to turn its attention back to them.

With a collective roar, the Grum-gar Orcs charged forward, weapons raised high.

GURRAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!! GRAAAAAAGGHHAAAAAAHHH!!!

The cavern echoed with the clashing of metal and the guttural cries of war.

The Orcs in their Grum-gar forms were nothing short of terrifying, one could their bodies swollen with muscle and rage.

They were a force of nature, raw and untamed, their movements fueled by sheer brute strength.

There was no finesse in their attacks, only violence—pure, unrelenting violence.

One Grum-gar Orc swung his heavy axe toward Zenveil’s head.

Swoosh!

The air whistled as the weapon descended, but Zenveil was quick.

The Warlock ducked, the blade missing him by mere inches. But the Orc was undeterred, his momentum carrying him forward.

He slammed into Zenveil with the full weight of his massive body.

Bang!

The impact sent Zenveil staggering back, his dark robes fluttering as he struggled to regain his footing.

Another Orc, his eyes wild with fury, lunged at Zenveil, claws extended like a predator going in for the kill.

He swiped at Zenveil’s chest, tearing through fabric and flesh alike.

Rip!

Blood splattered onto the stone floor, but Zenveil barely flinched. He hissed in pain, his eyes narrowing as he lashed out with a curse.

“DAMNED BRAINDEAD ORCS!”

But the Grum-gar Orcs weren’t done.

They were relentless, driven by the primal need to crush their enemy, turn it to pieces.

One of them bit into Zenveil’s shoulder, teeth sinking deep into flesh.

Crunch!

The Warlock howled in agony, “Aaaaarrghh???” his voice a mix of rage and disbelief.

He tried to shake the Orc off, but the creature held firm, his jaws locked tight.

“GET OUTTTTT YOU SHHIIITTT!!!”

Another Orc slammed into Zenveil’s side with a bone-crushing headbutt, the sound of skull meeting bone resonating through the cavern.

Thud!

Zenveil cursed again, his voice a low, venomous snarl. He could feel his control slipping, the seething rage within him boiling over.

“You… WORTHLESS… VERMIN!”

His voice cracked as he spoke, the words dripping with malice. But the Orcs were past hearing.

They were lost to the bloodlust, their only goal to tear Zenveil apart, piece by piece.

One by one, the Orcs attacked, their strikes chaotic, their movements unpredictable.

There was no strategy, no coordination.

Just brute force.

An Orc leaped onto Zenveil’s back, clawing and tearing at his robes, trying to drag him down.

Another lunged at Zenveil’s legs, his powerful jaws snapping at the Warlock’s knees, trying to bring him to the ground.

Snap!

Zenveil was surrounded, his vision filled with nothing but snarling faces and swinging weapons. His own magic surged in response, dark energy crackling at his fingertips as he tried to fend them off. But there were too many, and they were too strong.

Their blows landed with sickening force, each one driving him further into a corner.

Bang!

Crack!

Volk, deep beneath the ground, felt the vibrations of the battle above.

The pain that wracked his body was like fire, burning through every nerve even though he was still in Radioactive Form, he didn’t expect this.

However, what he didn’t know was that it was the fear that truly paralyzed him.

The hesitation that gnawed at his heart, holding him back from unleashing his true raging potential.

The old Grak’thor’s words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his limitations.

A Labor Orc like you… can only mutate twice.

What if it was true?

What if this was his limit?

What if he transformed again and didn’t get stronger and stronger, but instead, he just burned out the time back to his Orc form and got killed?

He could feel the energy inside him, the radioactive power that had once saved him in battle. But if he tapped into it now, what would be left of him?

Would he even survive?

What if his power is enough!

What if this power is restricted like his Grum-gar form?

Can only only powered up twice.

His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with both pain and fear. He was angry—furious, even—but the anger was tainted by something else.

Something darker.

The fear of the unknown.

The fear of dying. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His mind was a storm, torn between the urge to fight and the fear of what that fight might cost him.

Volk’s growl echoed through the earth around him.

GRAAAAAAAGGHH!!!!!

The sound was deep and guttural, vibrating through the stones like a distant earthquake. He could feel the weight of the earth above him, pressing down on his chest, trying to smother him. But he wasn’t ready to die.

Not yet.

With a snarl, he bit down on his tongue, he instantly felt the sharp pain cutting through the fog of fear that clouded his mind and he got angry!

He forced himself to move, feeling his muscles straining as he began to dig through the earth.

Not long, his hands clawed at the dirt, tearing through rock and stone as he burrowed upward.

The pain in his body was a distant memory now, drowned out by the sheer force of his will.

He could feel the anger building inside him as clawed up, a burning rage that threatened to consume him entirely. But he embraced it, welcomed it, letting it fuel his every movement.

Growl!

Scratch!

Dig!

Above, the battle raged on.

Zenveil, now pushed to his limit, felt his control slipping further with every passing second.

The Orcs were like a mindless muscle swarm, their sheer numbers overwhelming. His vision blurred, the world spinning as he staggered backward, trying to put distance between himself and the relentless horde.

However, there was no escape.

The Orcs were everywhere, biting, clawing, tearing at his flesh with an almost animalistic ferocity.

“YOU DAMNED ORCS!”

Zenveil screamed, his voice raw with frustration and pain. His hands glowed with dark energy, the power within him surging as he unleashed a wave of magic.

After that, the muscle of the three headed Dozer began to expand with massive force.

Kabam!

The force of it sent several Grum-gar Orcs flying, and then one could see their bodies crashing against the cave walls with bone-jarring impacts.

Boom!

Bang!

But the victory was short-lived.

The Grum-gar Orcs picked themselves up, with their eyes blazing with undiminished and even fury.

They were beyond pain, beyond fear.

They were driven by something far more primal—the need to destroy, to obliterate their enemy, no matter the cost.

And then, something changed.

Zenveil’s eyes narrowed as he felt the power within him shifting, growing.

The dark magic that had fueled him for so long now seemed to be feeding on his anger, his desperation. His body began to swell, muscles expanding as his form grew larger and larger.

His laughter filled the cavern, deep and sinister.

“HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA!”

The Grum-gar Orcs faltered, their charge slowing as they beheld the transformation before them.

Slowly, Zenveil and Dozer’s body had become a towering behemoth, his once human form now monstrous, grotesque.

Whole Dozer became taller and wider.

He loomed over the Orcs, and each of them seemed to feel his body radiating dark energy that crackled in the air around them.

The Grum-gar Orcs, who had moments ago been filled with nothing but bloodlust, now hesitated.

Fear crept into their eyes as they realized the sheer scale of the creature before them.

They had been warriors, yes, but this?

This was something else entirely.

Zenveil’s laugh echoed in the cavern, a sound that was more beast than man.

He relished the fear in their eyes, the way they shrank back from him. “YOU’RE NOTHING!” he bellowed, his voice shaking the very walls of the cave. “NOTHING!”

But then, the ground beneath them trembled.

A crack appeared in the stone, snaking its way across the cavern floor with a low, rumbling growl.

The Orcs’ eyes widened in shock as the crack grew larger, spreading outward like a spider’s web. And then, with a deafening boom!, the ground exploded upward.

Volk emerged from the earth like a force of nature, one could see his body was still coated in dirt and blood, and his eyes were burning with a fire that had not been there before.

His fist was already in the move as he erupted from the ground, GURAAAA!! a blur of movement that Zenveil barely had time to register.

BAM!

Volk’s fist connected with the jaw of the center head of the three headed beast where Zenveil was.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep