Volk’s muscles tensed as the countdown to the end of his Radioactive form loomed in his mind.

Four minutes left.

He felt the pressure mounting.

Every second counted, and with each heartbeat, the sense of urgency grew.

He had no time to think, no time to calculate his next move, no time to be distracted by chaos in front.

His attacks were wild, chaotic, but that was all he could rely on now.

The random nature of his strikes was his only hope.

Maybe, just maybe, one of them would erupt and hit the Warlock hard enough to bring him down.

He needed to spam randomly with different effects!

Volk didn’t care about the system mission anymore.

He didn’t care about completing objectives. All that mattered was survival—and making the enemy in front feel any kind of enemy.

The mission felt like a distant echo now, drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears.

He roared, his body glowing with radioactive energy, his fists clenched, ready to swing again.

Yes!

His goal wasn’t just to survive!

He needed to hurt Zenveil!

Break him!

Crush him!

Smash him!

But as he prepared to throw another punch, something cold and solid slammed into his skull.

KABAAM!

Volk was sent flying across the cave, his body crashing into the rough stone wall with a sickening bang.

He crumpled to the ground, dazed, the world spinning around him.

Pain exploded in his skull, but before he could even recover, the ground beneath him erupted with sharp stones, spearing upwards like jagged teeth.

SHHHHK!

The stones pierced through his limbs, pinning him to the ground.

They drove deep into his muscles, trapping him in place.

He roared in pain, GRAAAAAAHHH!! thrashing against the restraints, but the more he struggled, the deeper the stones dug into his flesh.

His radioactive energy flickered, weakening as the minutes ticked by.

Through the haze of pain and struggle, Volk heard the echoing voice of Zenveil.

“I’VE EXPLODED THREE OF MY FIVE HEARTS JUST TO FREE MYSELF FROM YOUR PATHETIC TRICKS!”

Zenveil’s voice was filled with seething fury. His words bounced off the cave walls, twisted with madness. “YOU THINK YOU CAN HUMILIATE ME, YOU DAMNED ORC?! YOU’RE NOTHING! NOTHING! I AM YOUR MASTER!”

Volk snarled, Graaaaaa! trying to wrench himself free, but the stones held firm.

He could hear Zenveil’s pawsteps approaching, slow and deliberate, the sound of a man savoring his victory.

“I am your creator, little Orcs. Without me, you wouldn’t even exist.” Zenveil’s voice grew closer, dripping with venom. “Do you know why? Shall I enlighten you?”

The Warlock finally appeared in Volk’s vision, standing tall and proud, with a lower body of a three headed dog, his pale face twisted with rage.

He looked down at Volk with disdain, his lips curling into a cruel sneer.

Zenveil raised his paw-like hand, the grotesque appendage that controlled the massive three-headed beast that loomed behind him.

The paw crackled with dark energy as it moved closer to Volk’s head.

“LET ME TELL YOU A STORY, ORC. A STORY OF YOUR PATHETIC ORIGIN.”

Zenveil’s eyes gleamed with malevolence as he crouched down next to Volk, his face inches away from the pinned Orc.

The dark particles in his paw danced wildly as he began his tale.

“YOU ORCS… YOU WERE ONCE CREATURES FROM RANDOM RANDOM REALM, BORN WITH HORNS, BORN WITH STRENGTH. BUT YOU WERE TOO POWERFUL. TOO WILD. YOU CAN ALSO TURN INTO AN ORC DEMON FORM, THE SAME WITH YOUR GRUM-GAR FORMS CALLED DIABOLIC FORM!

“AND WE WARLOCKS COULDN’T CONTROL YOU AS YOU WERE. SO WE TOOK YOUR HORNS. YES, YOUR PRECIOUS HORNS THAT MADE YOU STRONG! WE RIPPED THEM FROM YOUR SKULLS!”

Zenveil cackled, his voice rising with madness.

“WITHOUT THEM, YOU WERE WEAK, PATHETIC, JUST LIKE YOU ARE NOW. HORNLESS ORCS. BUT YOU WERE STILL TOO UNSTABLE. SO WE WARLOCKS, IN OUR INFINITE WISDOM, DECIDED TO MIX YOUR BLOOD WITH THE BLOOD OF OGRES.

“YES, THAT’S RIGHT.

“THE MIGHTY OGRES. IT TOOK COUNTLESS EXPERIMENTS, COUNTLESS FAILURES, BUT EVENTUALLY, WE SUCCEEDED AFTER COUNTLESS OF YEARS. WE CREATED YOU! THE ORCOGRE! FAR WEAKER THAN REAL OGRES. AND FAR WEAKER THAN THE HORNED ORCS YOU ONCE WERE.”

Zenveil’s voice dropped to a whisper, but it was no less menacing.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW? YOU’RE NOTHING MORE THAN A SUCCESSFUL EXPERIMENT FOR WAR AGAINST THESE DARK WITCHES. YOU AND YOUR KIND WILL NEVER BE AS POWERFUL AS YOU COULD HAVE BEEN. YOU NEED FIVE FULL MUTATIONS JUST TO EVEN STAND A CHANCE AGAINST A REAL OGRE. BUT EVEN THEN… YOU’RE STILL JUST A WEAPON!

A WEAPON FOR US WARLOCKS TO USE!!!”

Volk’s vision blurred with rage.

GRAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

His body trembled as the radioactive energy within him surged, fighting against the pain, fighting against the humiliation.

His mind screamed to break free, to tear Zenveil apart with his bare hands. But the stones held him tight, and the Warlock’s dark magic was seeping slowly into his skin, pinning him down.

Zenveil’s paw hovered over Volk’s head, the dark particles swirling faster now.

He grinned, his eyes wild with insanity.

“And now, I’ll show you what true power looks like. Watch closely, little buzzwark Orc. I’ll inject you with a little something… a reminder of who owns you.”

Volk’s eyes widened as the paw made contact with his temple.

The dark particles surged into his skull, filling his mind with searing pain. He roared, GRAAAAAAAA!! the sound ripping from his throat in agony, his body convulsing as the magic invaded him.

“YES!”

Zenveil screamed, his voice ringing with maniacal glee.

“That’s it! SCREAM! Scream like the worthless creature you are! That’s all you’re good for! Scream for me! Scream for your master!”

Volk’s roar grew louder, more primal, echoing through the cave like a beast being slaughtered.

His muscles bulged, straining against the stone spikes that held him, his veins pulsing with the radioactive energy that was barely keeping him alive.

The pain was unbearable, it’s was like a white-hot fire that consumed his entire body.

“THAT’S RIGHT! Scream more! Suffer more! That’s what all you Orcs should do! How dare you try to rise above your creators?! HOW DARE YOU HUMILIATED ME!!?

WE made you! WE are the reason you exist! Without us, you are nothing! NOTHING! SO… YOU SHOULD CALL US YOUR MASTERS!”

Zenveil’s laughter grew louder, more unhinged. He was completely lost in his own madness now, his eyes gleaming with the twisted joy of watching Volk writhe in pain.

But inside Volk, something was changing. Beneath the pain, beneath the agony, a new feeling was rising—RAGE.

Volk’s mind was a maelstrom of fury.

Zenveil’s words, the torture, the humiliation—it all blended together into one singular emotion.

He had been beaten down, trapped, and humiliated, but he wasn’t finished yet.

He wouldn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop.

The fire in his chest burned hotter, brighter, until it consumed everything else.

Volk’s eyes snapped open, glowing with radioactive energy. His lips curled back into a snarl, his teeth bared in a fierce grin.

“YOU ARE…NOT VOOOOOOOOOOOLK…MASTEEEERRR!!!” His voice was low, but it was filled with raw, untamed desire to ruin.

Zenveil blinked, momentarily startled by the sudden shift in Volk’s demeanor. “What did you say?!” he spat, his paw tightening its grip on Volk’s head.

But Volk didn’t answer with words. He answered with a roar—a roar so loud and powerful that the very stones pinning him to the ground began to crack and crumble.

“RAAAAAAAGHHHHH!”

The radioactive energy surged through Volk’s body, expanding outward in a violent wave of power.

The stones shattered under the force, and Volk exploded free from his restraints, his entire form glowing with a blinding light.

Zenveil stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock. “NO! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!”

But it was too late.

Volk was beyond reason now, beyond pain.

He was pure rage, pure destruction, and he was coming for Zenveil.

Zenveil barely had time to scream before Volk’s fist, crackling with energy, shot forward.

KABAM!!

The force of the blow sent shockwaves through the cave, the very ground shaking beneath them.

“VOLK RAMPAAAAAAAAAAAAGGEEE!!!!!!!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep