Volk’s jaw clenched as the chieftain’s words echoed in his ears.

His muscles tensed with the weight of a decision he never thought he’d have to make.

He had always respected the older generation even in his past life, had even tried to understand their ways, but this—this was different.

The chieftain was pushing him too far, trying to cling to power and traditions that no longer made sense.

Without thinking, Volk stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. His voice was calm, but the undercurrent of anger was unmistakable.

“Look, old one,” he began, his words dripping with contempt, “you’ve suppressed your body and mana, and you’re still injured. I don’t want to fight such weakness.”

The chieftain’s face contorted in fury, but Volk didn’t stop. “Rest for now,” he continued, his voice growing sharper. “Wait for me. I’ll give you a quick death when I return. If becoming chieftain is what you want me to do, I’ll take that title from you without breaking a sweat.”

There was a stunned silence.

Every Orc and Elf in the chamber stood frozen, their mouths agape, unable to process what they had just heard.

It was as if time had stopped.

Volk didn’t even glance back at the chieftain. He turned on his heel and strode away, his steps echoing in the eerie quiet that followed his declaration.

As Volk disappeared into the shadows of the dungeon, Grounad stood, slack-jawed.

He hadn’t expected this kind of confidence—or was it arrogance? Whatever it was, he admired it.

After a brief pause, Grounad turned to his wife, Mishana. Her pale face glistened with worry, her silver hair catching the dim light of the cavern. She nodded slightly, knowing what he was about to do.

“Wait here,” Grounad muttered, his deep voice laced with urgency. Mishana’s emerald eyes bore into his, but she didn’t object. She trusted him.

Without wasting another second, Grounad took off, with his massive legs pumping as he chased after Volk.

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

The older Orcs and Elves could only watch in disbelief as he vanished from sight.

However, he wasn’t the only one.

Grashk, Grok’Thar, and several others who had followed Volk previously shared a glance, and without a word, they too began to move.

The Elves stood in silence, unsure of what to make of the scene before them.

Solluha’r, standing among the elders, furrowed her brow, clearly torn between staying behind and following her partner.

The older generation of Orcs and Elves exchanged confused glances, but none of them dared speak up.

They were flabbergasted by the sheer audacity of what was happening.

—

Grounad’s heavy footsteps echoed through the winding halls of the dungeon, but he finally caught up to Volk, who was striding ahead with a singular focus.

The dim light of the dungeon’s eerie glow cast long shadows, but Grounad could see the determination in Volk’s gait. He hurried to fall into step beside him.

“Volk,” Grounad called out, slightly breathless. Volk slowed, glancing over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

“This… this is the same as last time,” Grounad said, his voice a mix of curiosity and anxiety. “The greenery, the strange plants—they weren’t here before, but the dungeon layout? It’s almost identical.”

Volk raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

Grounad nodded. “Yeah. It’s the same, but with one critical difference.”

“And what’s that?” Volk asked, his eyes narrowing.

“The numbers,” Grounad replied gravely. “The monsters—they’ve tripled in number. The dungeon is summoning creatures from different dimensions. The traps, the challenges—it’s all going to be a lot worse this time.”

Volk frowned, letting the information sink in. His mind began working quickly, calculating the implications of what Grounad had just said.

Tripled monsters?

Summoned from other dimensions?

This dungeon wasn’t just a death trap anymore—it was something much more dangerous.

And yet, he felt no fear.

Instead, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Then this won’t be a problem,” Volk muttered to himself, more amused than concerned.

Grounad stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, it won’t be a problem? This dungeon’s difficulty has been ramped up to an insane level! We’ll be facing monsters we’ve never even seen before.”

Volk shrugged, his casual demeanor unnerving Grounad. “I can handle worse.” He glanced back at the others who had followed him into the depths. “And besides, we’re not alone.”

The others, Grashk, Grok’Thar, and the few others who had loyally followed Volk, now caught up with them, their faces a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

They had heard Grounad’s warning, but they shared Volk’s confidence.

“So,” Volk said, turning to face his small group, “who’s ready to tear through this dungeon?”

Grashk grinned, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth. “As long as we’re following you, Volk, I think we’ve got a chance.”

Grok’Thar nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m not afraid of a few extra monsters. Let them come.”

Volk couldn’t help but smirk.

The loyalty and confidence of these Orcs were contagious.

They didn’t care about the odds—they trusted him. And Volk? He trusted himself.

No!

He trusted his Grum-gar form and system.

“Good,” he said simply, turning back toward the path ahead. “Let’s move.”

As they began to press deeper into the dungeon, Grounad walked alongside Volk, still troubled by the growing danger. “You really think we can survive this?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with doubt.

Volk glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Survive? Grounad, we’re not here to survive. We’re here to conquer.”

The sheer audacity of Volk’s words left Grounad speechless for a moment. He had followed him down into the dungeon, believing in his strength after their fight, but now he was starting to see something else in Volk—something that wasn’t just strength or confidence.

It was something far deeper.

A will.

A drive.

Something that couldn’t be easily crushed.

Is this really the weak Dreadmaw Clan?

They walked for several more minutes in silence, the air growing colder as the path narrowed and the stone walls began to close in around them.

The faint sound of growls echoed in the distance, the first sign that the dungeon was preparing to unleash its horrors upon them.

Finally, Volk stopped, his eyes scanning the path ahead. “There,” he whispered, nodding toward the faint glow of crystal shards embedded in the walls. “This is where it begins.” Read new chapters at m_v-l’e-NovelBin

Grounad’s grip tightened around his axe as he followed Volk’s gaze. The sound of approaching monsters grew louder, the ground vibrating beneath their feet.

Volk cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders in preparation. “This dungeon may have tripled its threats,” he said, “but that just means more opportunities for us.”

With a quick glance to his comrades, Volk added, “Stay sharp. Watch each other’s backs. And remember—this isn’t just about surviving. We’re here to win.”

The first of the monsters appeared at the edge of the corridor, its snarling face illuminated by the faint glow of the crystals.

Behind it, the sounds of more creatures approaching grew louder, a cacophony of roars and growls that promised an onslaught.

It’s like a stampede of monsters and they were together.

Volk gripped his weapon tightly, his eyes gleaming with determination. “Let’s get to work.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep