Volk stared at the chieftain, his muscles tensing as he held back the urge to strike.

“What is your problem, chieftain?”

His voice was low, controlled, but there was a hint of frustration.

He didn’t understand why the chieftain had attacked him so suddenly, and more importantly, why the older Orc was so furious.

The chieftain, his eyes filled with seething rage, stepped forward, his massive figure towering over Volk.

His gnarled hands gripped the handle of his sword tightly, and the air around him seemed to grow heavy.

“My problem?” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the cavern. “You dare ask me what my problem is?”

Volk said nothing, standing his ground. He could feel the eyes of the other Orcs and Elves on them, watching in silence.

The older Orcs in particular seemed to be waiting for something.

The chieftain continued, his voice booming with anger.

“I am the chieftain of this tribe! It is my duty, my right, to accept new members into the Dreadmaw Clan! Not yours!” He jabbed a finger at Volk, his face twisted in fury.

“You, a labor Orc, think you have the authority to bring someone into my tribe without my permission? You have insulted me in front of my clan, in front of our ancestors!”

Volk blinked, confused. “I didn’t know—”

“Exactly!” the chieftain interrupted, his voice cutting like a blade.

“You didn’t know! Because you are ignorant! You are not worthy of making decisions for this tribe. You are not worthy of leading anyone, let alone someone like Grounad.” He spat the name like it was poison on his tongue.

The chieftain’s eyes gleamed with anger as he continued.

“By accepting Grounad into our tribe, you have challenged my reign as chieftain. You, who are barely more than a child in the eyes of our people, dare to think you can usurp my authority?”

Volk opened his mouth to speak, but the chieftain wasn’t done. He raised his sword and pointed it at Volk’s chest, his voice shaking with fury.

“Even with my power suppressed, even if I am no stronger than you or the others here, my pride as an Orc Warrior is not something the likes of you can trample on!

“You think that just because you’ve completed the catacomb, you have the right to disrespect me? To disrespect our traditions?”

The older generation of Orcs, who had been standing silently, raised their hands in agreement, their faces stern.

One of them, a grizzled Orc with scars running down his arms, spoke up.

“The chieftain is right. You have disrespected the traditions of the Dreadmaw Clan, Volk. The chieftain must be the one to accept new members. For you to do it without his permission is a grave insult.”

Another elder, her voice rough with age, added, “You have challenged his authority. The punishment for such disrespect is death. Offer your head, Volk, and accept your fate.”

Volk stood there, speechless. He hadn’t known.

No one had told him that only the chieftain could accept new members into the tribe. It was an unspoken rule, one that the older generation seemed to understand instinctively.

However, Volk?

He was from a different world, a different life. And now, he was being condemned for something he didn’t even know was wrong.

As the elders continued to call for his death, Volk’s mind drifted back to his past life. He remembered being in a wheelchair, his body weak and frail.

The adults around him, caregivers and teachers, had always been quick to scold him, to tell him what to do.

Even the smallest mistakes would earn their anger.

He had been powerless then, just as he felt now.

They had lied to his parents, making him out to be a troublemaker, when all he had ever wanted was to live in peace.

Just because he was weak, just because he didn’t know any better, they had abused their authority over him.

The memories stirred a deep hatred within him.

The same hatred he had felt as a child, the same hatred he had tried to bury when he came to this world. But now, it was bubbling to the surface again.

The chieftain and the elders—were they any different from the adults in his past life? Were they just using their authority to oppress him because they could?

Volk’s jaw clenched as the anger inside him grew.

He wasn’t weak anymore.

He wasn’t powerless. And he wasn’t going to stand here and let them dictate his fate.

He was about to speak, about to defend himself, when suddenly, a familiar sound echoed in his mind.

| Ding!

A message from the system appeared before his eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light of the cavern.

| Reach and drip some blood first on the newly forming crystal deep in the dungeon within thirty minutes.

| Rewards: The host will always be sent to a dimension near where the Nuclear Reactor Vessel will be sent to.

| Failure: Death of everyone in the Dreadmaw Clan, including the host. |

Volk’s eyes widened in shock as he read the message.

“What…?” he whispered under his breath. His mind raced.

A crystal?

A new dimension? And what was this about a Nuclear Reactor Vessel?

He didn’t have time to think.

The system had given him a time limit—thirty minutes.

If he didn’t reach the crystal in time, he would lose whatever reward was being offered. And something told him that the reward was more important than anything else happening right now.

After all, the punishment is nothing but death!

His gaze shifted from the system message to the chieftain, who was still glaring at him with fury in his eyes.

The chieftain had no idea what was going on in Volk’s mind, no idea that something far more important than their petty dispute was at stake.

Volk swallowed his salivas hard, trying to keep his composure.

He needed to act quickly.

He couldn’t waste time arguing with the chieftain, not when the system was offering him a way out—possibly a way to survive.

His eyes darted to Solluha’r, his partner.

She was standing a few feet away, her expression one of concern and confusion.

She hadn’t said a word during the confrontation, but now, as Volk’s gaze met hers, she seemed to sense that something was wrong.

Volk took a deep breath.

He didn’t know what to do next, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t stay here and wait for the chieftain to decide his fate.

Not when the system had just handed him a lifeline.

Without saying a word, he nodded to Solluha’r, signaling that they needed to move.

She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod in return, understanding the urgency in his eyes.

But before Volk could make his move, the chieftain raised his sword again, his voice thundering through the cavern.

“How dare you stand there in silence, little Labor Volk? Do you have no respect for your elders? No respect for the traditions of our clan?”

Volk’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to think of a way out.

The system’s message lingered in his mind, urging him to act. But the chieftain was in his way, and Volk knew that if he made the wrong move now, he might not survive long enough to reach the crystal.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep