Strongest Radioactive System

The battle began with a sudden ferocity that took even the seasoned warriors by surprise.

The younger orcs, still green in their experience, hesitated for only a fraction of a second before they charged forward, weapons raised. But it was enough time for the wild boars to lunge, immediately their massive bodies were crashing through the underbrush with terrifying speed.

"Hold your ground, Mag'Durotans!" bellowed one of the armored orcs, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Do not let them push you back! Use your hands if you can't use your weapons properly! The hazardous magic particles are sapping your strength!"

Volk barely had time to register the command before a wild boar, its tusks gleaming with a sickly green light, barreled toward him. He swung his club with all his might, the heavy weapon connecting with a dull thud against the boar's side.

The beast let out a shrill squeal of pain but didn't slow down. It twisted its massive body, attempting to gore him with its tusks.

"Keep moving, young Mag'Durotan!" shouted another armored orc from the front lines. "Don't let them pin you down! Use your hands when your weapon fails you!"

Volk felt a surge of determination rise within him.

As the boar came at him again, he sidestepped the charging beast and swung his club again, in a split second, the heavy impact sent the boar crashing to the ground.

Kabam!

The air around him was thick, oppressive, as if the very forest were pressing down on him. He saw the other younglings faltering under the weight of the magic particles in the air, their movements becoming sluggish as their strength waned.

But to Volk's surprise, he felt… fine.

The oppressive atmosphere that seemed weighed so heavily on the others barely touched him. If anything, he felt a strange resistance within him, a force that kept the debilitating effects of the particles at bay.

"Get to its flanks!" commanded the armored orc who had spoken before. "Their strength is in their size and momentum! Don't face them head-on—move to their sides and strike where they're weakest!"

Volk nodded, though he wasn't sure if the orc could see him. He focused on the boar, trying to remember his training. He feinted to the left, drawing the beast's attention, then quickly shifted to the right, bringing his club down hard on its hind leg.

The boar stumbled, and Volk seized the opportunity, swinging his club again and again until the beast collapsed to the ground.

But there was no time to celebrate his small victory.

Another boar was already charging toward him, and he could hear the shouts and cries of his fellow younglings as they struggled against the relentless assault.

"Watch your flanks, damn it!" roared another armored orc, his voice filled with frustration. "You're not in this alone! Support each other, Mag'Durotans! Don't get separated!"

Volk gritted his teeth, trying to keep the armored orc's advice in mind as he ducked and weaved through the chaos. He noticed the way the others faltered, their movements becoming sluggish as their energy was drained by the magical particles. But he felt no such weakness.

It was as if the magic particles, which affected everyone else so severely, simply passed over him without consequence. He felt strong, focused, his movements as quick and precise as ever.

A young orc near Volk was knocked to the ground by a particularly vicious boar, and Volk barely managed to pull him out of the way before the beast could finish him off.

The young orc looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes, his hands trembling as he tried to get back to his feet.

"Get up!" Volk shouted, grabbing the orc by the arm and hauling him to his feet. "We don't have time for fear! Fight, damn it!"

The young orc nodded, swallowing hard as he picked up his weapon and rejoined the fray.

Volk turned his attention back to his own fight, trying to ignore the burning in his muscles as he swung his club at another boar.

"Keep moving!" came another shout from the armored orcs, their voices a constant presence in the battle. "Don't let them corner you! If you stop, you're dead!"

Volk could feel the truth of their words in every aching muscle.

The boars were relentless, their sheer size and strength overwhelming the younger orcs.

For every beast they brought down, two more seemed to take its place. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat, and the ground was slick with mud and gore.

But despite the overwhelming odds, Volk was surprised to find that he wasn't weakening as much as the others.

Or maybe the magic particles were affecting him, yes, but not to the extent that they were draining the strength of his comrades. He didn't have time to dwell on the why of it, but he could see the looks of confusion and surprise on the faces of the older orcs whenever they glanced in his direction.

"Why isn't that young Mag'Durotan weakening?" one of the armored orcs muttered, his voice just loud enough for Volk to catch as he swung his club at another boar. "He should be on his last legs by now…"

"Focus on the fight!" snapped another armored orc. "We can figure out why later—right now, we need to survive!"

The battle raged on, the young orcs struggling to keep up with the unrelenting assault.

Volk rolled out of the way of a charging boar, coming up on his feet just in time to bash it across the head with his club.

The beast staggered, but it didn't go down.

"Get its legs, Volk!" shouted an armored orc, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. "Take out its legs and it'll go down!"

Volk did as he was told, immediately his club connected with the beast's front leg with a sickening crunch.

The boar let out a pained squeal, collapsing to the ground, but even as it fell, it lashed out with its tusks, catching Volk across the chest. He stumbled back, the breath knocked out of him, but he didn't go down. He felt the sharp pain where the tusks had struck him, but it only fueled his determination further.

"Don't stop!" the armored orc yelled, his voice a mixture of encouragement and command. "If you fall now, you won't get back up!"

Volk nodded grimly, pushing through the pain as he brought his club down on the boar's head, finally ending its struggle. He didn't have time to catch his breath before another boar was on him, and he could hear the shouts of the other younglings as they fought their own battles.

The ground was littered with the bodies of fallen boars, but there were still more of them, their glowing eyes filled with a malevolent intelligence that sent a chill down Volk's spine.

He could feel the fatigue setting in, the magic particles gnawing at his strength, but he refused to give in.

"Remember your training!" shouted an armored orc as he decapitated a boar with a swift swing of his massive axe. "We trained you for this! Stay focused, stay alive!"

Volk tried to do just that, his mind racing as he fought off yet another boar.

The beasts were relentless, their sheer numbers threatening to overwhelm the younger orcs despite the best efforts of the armored veterans. And then, suddenly, something changed.

The boars, as one, stopped their assault.

The clearing fell eerily silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of the orcs and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

The boars turned as one, immediately their glowing eyes fixed on something in the distance.

Volk followed their gaze, ignoring his breath catching in his throat as he saw what had captured their attention.

Emerging from the shadows of the forest was a creature unlike any hazardous boars around.

It was massive, easily twice the size of the largest boar they had encountered. Its skin was a mottled green, almost black in places, and its tusks were long and jagged, curving wickedly upward. Its eyes glowed with a sickly green light, and a deep, guttural growl rumbled from its throat as it surveyed the battlefield.

One of the armored orcs, with a voice trembling in fear, spoke in a hushed tone. "It's a Hazardous Warthog… Everyone, stay still."

Volk could feel the fear in the air, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. The armored orc continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do not move. Do not even breathe if you can help it. This creature is beyond us. Even with our Grum-gar form, we are no match for it.

It hunts those who are cleaner or untainted by the hazardous magic. If it sees us, it will attack."

But it was too late.

The Hazardous Warthog's eyes locked onto Volk, and in that instant, Volk knew there was no escaping it.

The beast let out a deafening roar that shook the very ground beneath their feet, and then, with terrifying speed, it charged directly at him.

"Run!" one of the armored orcs shouted, but Volk couldn't move. His legs felt like they were made of lead, his heart pounding in his chest as the beast bore down on him.

There was no time to think, no time to react.

All he could do was close his eyes and brace himself for the impact that was sure to come.