As Volk stood amidst the cheering crowd, the sound of their voices filled the air, rising in a symphony of triumph and adoration.

His victory over Luk’Tar felt fresh, and his massive Grum-gar form still pulsed with the lingering energy of the fight.

The Orcs and Elves chanted his name, “Volk Champion!” “Volk Champion!”

Their voices echoed through the tents, and for a moment, Volk let himself bask in the glory of his triumph.

Then, suddenly, his vision blurred, and a familiar system notification materialized before his eyes.

| Ding!

| Duration: Zero.

| The host will now turn back to being normal, or if the host wishes, the host could stay a rampaging mindless beast. |

Volk blinked, and he sneered, “No way!” He mumbled.

Instantaneously, he felt a shift within his body. His towering, titan-like form began to change. His muscles, once bulging with an almost uncontrollable power, started to contract.

First, his massive and thick arms slowly reduced in size, the thick cords of muscle smoothing out as they retracted.

His chest followed, the broad expanse narrowing, his pectorals no longer jutting out with such extreme definition.

The transformation continued down his torso, his rock-hard abdomen softening into the tightly packed muscles of his regular form.

His legs, too, grew slimmer, their immense power condensed into the more manageable frame of a warrior Orc.

His skin, which had taken on a faint greenish glow, returned to its natural, earthy tone.

Finally, his head, once enlarged and fierce with rage, returned to its normal size, now his face lost the sharp, monstrous angles that had come with his Grum-gar transformation—radioactive form.

As Volk completed his transformation, his breathing steadied, and he flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar strength of his regular form.

The crowd around him continued to cheer, seemingly unfazed by his change.

“Volk Champion!” “Volk Champion!”

To them, he was still the champion who had defeated Luk’Tar, still the Orc who had earned their respect and admiration.

But then, a voice broke through the cheers, sharp and filled with venom.

“Luk’Tar was a fool!” the voice spat out.

The crowd quieted slightly as an older Orc stepped forward, his eyes narrowed in disdain.

“He accepted the KORNUUM DRHAKAR challenge, thinking Volk was just a normal Labor Orc, easy to defeat. He thought he could hide his dishonor by avoiding the crystal that would have exposed him for what he really is!”

Like magic, the crowd began to murmur in agreement. “But what happened? Luk’Tar lost! He lost because Volk is the true champion!” the older Orc continued, his voice rising with each word. “Luk’Tar thought he could keep his secrets, but the truth always comes out!”

As the older Orc finished, another Orc, this one younger, stepped forward, his face contorted in anger.

“Luk’Tar has always been shameless! I remember when he challenged me for my place in the tribe, knowing I was injured and couldn’t fight back. He didn’t care about honor then, and he doesn’t care about it now!”

A third Orc, his voice rough and full of bitterness, added, “Luk’Tar betrayed me too! He promised to help me when my family was struggling, but he took what little we had for himself. He’s nothing but a liar and a cheat!”

The crowd’s murmurs grew louder, their voices blending into a chorus of condemnation. “He’s always been this way!” “Luk’Tar is no true warrior!” “Volk showed him what real strength is!”

The voices overlapped, each one adding to the growing tide of resentment against Luk’Tar.

Volk stood in silence, his brow furrowed as he listened to the accusations.

The cheers of the crowd had turned into something darker, something bitter and vengeful. He could see it now—if he had lost, these same people would have turned on him just as quickly.

This awareness made him tighten his jaw, but he remained quiet, letting the crowd have their say while letting them pass through his ears.

But as the Orcs and Elves continued to vent their anger, Volk’s attention was suddenly drawn to a figure standing at the edge of the crowd.

His keen eyes focused on her, a young Elven woman with delicate features and long, green hair.

“Isn’t she the one with the thief?”

She was oblivious to his gaze, her head bowed, and her shoulders trembling slightly as if she were holding back tears in pain.

The woman’s lips moved, barely a whisper, but Volk’s sharp ears caught the words. “All of you are wrong,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. “All of you are wrong.”

Volk’s brow furrowed as he watched her, and the crowd’s accusations faded into the background as he focused on her, intrigued by the sorrow that seemed to envelop her.

The woman, Solluha’r, closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting back to memories she had kept hidden in her heart.

“Luk’Tar was not like this, he is kind, brave and won’t do such things,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.

“There was kindness in him. I remember when he saved that young Orc boy from drowning. He didn’t want anyone to know, but I saw it. I saw the way he risked his life to save another.”

Her words were lost on the crowd, but Volk heard them clearly. His eyes narrowed as he listened, his curiosity was growing in a steady pace.

Solluha’r’s voice grew more steady as she continued, her memories pouring out like a flood.

“And the time he gave his food to the elders when the harvest was bad. He went hungry for days, but he didn’t tell anyone. He did it because he cared, because he knew they needed it more than he did.”

Volk’s expression softened slightly as he listened, a flicker of something—pity, perhaps—crossing his features.

“And then there was the day he found that injured wolf,” Solluha’r murmured, her eyes filling with tears.

“He nursed it back to health in secret, even though the others would have killed it. He let it go when it was strong enough to survive on its own. He wasn’t always this way… he wasn’t always so lost.”

As Solluha’r spoke, her mind was flooded with memories of Luk’Tar, not as the disgraced warrior he was now, but as the Orc she had once known. Her heart ached as she remembered those memories with him.

She clenched her fists, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Why, Lu’Tark?” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. “Why did you have to accept that duel? You could have just ignored him… Why did you have to prove yourself? Who is he even?”

Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and pain, the memories of the moments she had shared with Lu’Tark.

Although they had never even kissed, they already expressed the feelings they had for each other. And now, all of it was shattered.

Solluha’r’s eyes filled with tears as she remembered the bond they had shared, a bond that had been torn apart when her talent was revealed.

She had accepted her fate, knowing that her place was with the tribe, not with Lu’Tark.

However, the news of his capture of the skinless venomous earth mole had rekindled her hope, a hope that had now been dashed once again.

“Why, Lu’Tark?” she whispered again, her voice barely audible. “Why did it have to end like this?”

As she stood there, lost in her despair, a shadow fell over her. She looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting the gaze of Volk, who had been watching her silently.

His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, something that made her heart skip a beat.

Volk, who had remained silent through it all, watched Solluha’r with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper—something he couldn’t quite place.

“I wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t did that to me first,” he suddenly said.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep