Strongest Radioactive System

The oppressive mist still clung to the air, wrapping the world in its eerie shroud as Volk stood by the mouth of the cave. He didn't bother hiding his irritation, his sharp eyes narrowing at the gathered members of the horde. They milled about hesitantly, shuffling their feet, avoiding his gaze, and mumbling excuses that barely rose above whispers. The sound of the silence outside was unsettling, yes, but the tension inside the cave was growing unbearable.

One goblin, the smallest and most timid, spoke up, his voice trembling. "M-Maybe we should wait a bit longer, Volk. You know… just to be sure? The mist might still be dangerous."

A second goblin, older and scarred, nodded in agreement. "Yeah. What's the harm in waiting another hour or so? We don't even know what's out there. If we go now, we might just be walking into a trap."

An ogre, massive and imposing, crossed his arms over his chest and rumbled his agreement. "The mist feels… wrong. You felt it too, Volk. This place is unnatural. If we leave now, we might regret it."

Volk turned slowly, his eyes locking onto the ogre with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel. His lips curled into a sneer as he took a deliberate step forward. "Regret it?" His voice was low, dangerous, the kind of tone that made even the most hardened warrior flinch. "You're afraid of regret? Or is it just fear? Cowardice, maybe?"

The ogre stiffened but didn't respond, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Another goblin piped up nervously, wringing his hands. "We're just saying, Volk. It's not cowardice. It's caution. There's no point in rushing out there and getting killed if we can avoid it. Right?"

Volk's eyes snapped to the goblin, his expression darkening. "Caution?" he hissed, his voice rising with each word. "You call this caution? Huddling in a damp, cramped cave, too afraid to step into the light? Is that what the horde has become? A pack of sniveling, spineless wretches, cowering in fear of shadows?"

The goblins and ogres exchanged uneasy glances, murmuring among themselves, but none dared to meet Volk's furious gaze.

"Let me make something very clear," Volk continued, his voice booming now, reverberating off the cave walls. "We are not sheep. We are not prey. We are a horde! A force to be reckoned with! We have faced beasts, skyborne foes, and this cursed mist, and we have won. And now you stand here, shaking in your boots, telling me we should wait? For what? For the mist to swallow us whole? For the creatures out there to grow bold and come knocking at our door?"

He began pacing, his movements sharp and restless, his words cutting through their excuses like a blade. "You talk of caution, of safety, as if such things exist for us. We are warriors. Survivors. The moment we start hiding, the moment we let fear dictate our actions, we have already lost! Do you think the world will wait for you to feel brave enough? Do you think the monsters out there will care if you're ready? No! They will tear you apart the moment you hesitate. And if you stand here, frozen in fear, then you might as well dig your own graves now."

The smallest goblin whimpered, shrinking back against the cave wall. One of the ogres opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it when Volk turned his burning gaze on him.

"You dare call yourselves a horde?" Volk spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "A horde stands united. A horde fights, no matter the odds. A horde doesn't cower! If you cannot face the mist, if you cannot summon the courage to step outside this pathetic little hole in the ground, then you do not deserve to stand among us. You are not warriors. You are not my horde. You are nothing."

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of Volk's words hung heavy in the air, pressing down on each of them like a physical force. The goblins and ogres shifted uncomfortably, their faces a mixture of shame and fear.

Finally, one of the older goblins stepped forward hesitantly, his head bowed. "You're right, Volk," he said quietly. "We've let our fear control us. But… it's not easy. The mist, the silence… it's unnatural. It gets inside your head. We're not saying we don't want to fight. We're just…"

"Weak?" Volk finished for him, his tone icy.

The goblin flinched but nodded reluctantly.

"Well," Volk said, his voice softening slightly but still firm, "then it's time to stop being weak. Strength isn't given. It's earned. And it's time for you to earn it. We are leaving. Now."

The horde hesitated, exchanging uncertain looks, but the fire in Volk's eyes brooked no argument. Slowly, grudgingly, they began to gather their things.

Volk crossed his arms, watching them with a critical eye. "Good. You're learning. But don't mistake this for a choice. You either walk out of this cave with me, or you stay here and die alone. The mist doesn't care about your excuses. And neither do I."

With that, he turned sharply on his heel and strode toward the cave's entrance, his steps purposeful and unyielding. One by one, the members of the horde followed, some muttering under their breath, others silent and resigned.

As they stepped into the mist, the oppressive silence outside was like a living thing, wrapping around them and amplifying every creak of armor, every shuffle of feet. The tension was palpable, but they moved forward, united in their fear and determination.

Volk led the way, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression hard and unyielding. Behind him, the horde followed, their steps heavy but resolute.

They had no choice now.

The oppressive silence enveloped them like a suffocating shroud as they trudged forward through the mist. Each step seemed heavier than the last, and though they had left the cave, the world outside felt no less confining. The thick fog swallowed everything in its path, blurring shapes and obscuring distances. What little light filtered through was dim, barely enough to distinguish the forms of their comrades a few paces away.

But something felt wrong.

The first to voice it was a goblin, his sharp eyes darting nervously around as he whispered, "Why's it so dark? It was morning when we came out... wasn't it?"

Another goblin stopped in his tracks, furrowing his brow. "Yeah, it should be brighter. The sun should be burning through the mist by now."

An ogre, larger and slower to notice, glanced around and muttered, "It's the mist. Must be blocking out the light."

"No," the first goblin said, shaking his head. "This isn't just the mist. Even if it's thick, there should be shadows, outlines of something. But it's like…" His voice trailed off, and his gaze dropped to the ground.

"It's like we're walking in the dark," another finished for him, his voice barely above a whisper.

The realization rippled through the group, and soon the horde began murmuring among themselves, their voices filled with growing unease.

"Maybe we've been walking in circles?" one of them suggested, glancing nervously at the ground.

"No, Volk's leading us straight. He wouldn't let us get lost," another argued, though his voice carried little conviction. Read new adventures at My Virtual Library Empire

"But then why does it feel like this? Why can't we see the sun?"

Volk, striding ahead, had remained silent throughout their nervous chatter. His piercing eyes scanned the surroundings with a focused intensity that none of the others could match. Unlike the others, he wasn't muttering theories or second-guessing their steps. He was observing, every fiber of his being tuned to the strange atmosphere around them.

And strange it was.

It wasn't just the light—or lack thereof—that unsettled him. It was the texture of the air, the way it pressed against his skin. The mist no longer seemed to be merely a passive veil of moisture. It felt heavier, denser, almost alive. Every inhale carried with it a faint metallic tang, as though the air itself had turned hostile.

"Why is it so quiet?" a goblin suddenly whispered, his voice trembling. "Last night, there were roars, growls, footsteps. Now it's… nothing. Not even the wind."

Another goblin nodded, his ears twitching. "Yeah. No birds. No insects. It's like…"

"Like the world's gone dead," an ogre finished grimly.

Volk finally stopped walking, his boots grinding against the damp earth. The silence was absolute now, broken only by the muffled rustling of his horde shifting uneasily behind him. He turned his head slightly, scanning the mist with narrowed eyes. The landscape—or what little of it he could see—offered no clues. The ground beneath them was solid, but beyond that, it was hard to tell where they were anymore.

"I don't like this," one of the goblins muttered, his hands gripping his makeshift weapon tightly.

"None of us do," another replied, his knuckles white around his axe.

"No, I mean... I really don't like this," the first goblin insisted. "Something's wrong. I can feel it."

Volk's eyes flicked to the ground briefly. The grass, damp and flattened under their feet, seemed normal enough. But when his gaze traveled outward, the boundaries of what they had seen earlier—stones, ridges, distant outlines of trees—had vanished. The mist had consumed everything.

"Spread out," Volk ordered, his voice calm but firm. "Find something—anything. Tracks, markings, anything that tells us where we are."

The horde hesitated, exchanging wary glances.

"Now!" Volk barked, his tone sharp enough to cut through their hesitation.

Reluctantly, they obeyed, fanning out in pairs and searching the immediate area. The goblins, with their sharp eyes, crouched low, scanning the ground for clues. The ogres moved slower, their heavy footfalls barely audible on the soft earth.

Minutes passed. The mist seemed to thicken with every breath, clinging to their skin, seeping into their armor. Their movements grew slower, more uncertain, as the oppressive atmosphere weighed on them.

"Anything?" Volk called out, his voice slicing through the silence.

"Nothing!" came the frustrated reply from a goblin.

"Just more mist!"

"It's like the land's disappeared!"

Volk clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting. He could feel the tension in the air, the growing panic among his horde. The mist wasn't just obscuring their vision—it was eroding their morale.

"Keep looking!" he snapped, his voice carrying an edge of irritation.

But deep down, even Volk was beginning to feel it. There was something off about this place. Something unnatural.

"Volk!" one of the goblins called out suddenly, his voice tinged with alarm. "Over here!"

Volk strode toward him, his expression hardening. "What is it?"

The goblin pointed to the ground. "The grass—it's not here anymore."

Volk's eyes narrowed as he crouched down, running his fingers over the earth. The goblin was right. The soft grass that had been underfoot moments ago had disappeared, replaced by barren, rocky soil.

"Strange," he muttered under his breath.

Another goblin approached, his face pale. "Volk, it's not just the grass. The stones, the landmarks—they're gone too. It's like... we're not in the same place anymore."

Volk's gaze snapped upward, scanning the mist once more. His sharp instincts, honed through countless battles, told him that something was amiss. His horde had been moving forward steadily. They couldn't have lost their way, not this badly.

The mist shifted subtly, curling and coiling like a living thing. Volk felt his skin prickle as a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached his ears—a low hum, barely audible, but unmistakably there.

His hand tightened on the hilt of his weapon. "Everyone, regroup!" he ordered sharply.

The horde quickly complied, their movements hurried and nervous.

"What is it?" an ogre asked, his voice low and wary.

Volk didn't answer immediately. His eyes were fixed upward now, scanning the swirling mist above. There was something there, something just beyond his vision. He could feel it.

And then, slowly, he raised his head fully, his gaze piercing through the oppressive haze.