Strongest Radioactive System

Summoning his strength, the blonde man pushed himself to his feet, his legs wobbling like a newborn fawn's.

He placed a hand on a nearby tree for support, his golden curls catching the faint sunlight filtering through the leaves.

After steadying himself, he straightened and began brushing off his clothing, his expression tightening into one of resolve.

"Father will know," he muttered again, as though repeating it would solidify it as truth.

He adjusted his coat, took a deep breath, and started forward, his steps quickening.

But after just a few strides, he froze mid-step, his entire body going rigid as his eyes widened in shock.

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

His hand instinctively reached for his chest, as if clutching at something that was no longer there.

A wave of cold realization washed over him.

The connection.

The faint thread of magical energy that bound him to his hounds—their lifeblood and loyalty intertwined with his own—was gone.

It wasn't just distant or weak. It was severed.

Completely severed.

"They're... dead?" His voice trembled, disbelief thick in every syllable.

He took a step back, shaking his head. "No, no, no. That can't be. They... they wouldn't. They couldn't. Not both of them."

He stumbled against the tree behind him, his mind racing.

"What could've... No, it doesn't matter. They were supposed to buy me time. But for the connection to be severed... so quickly..."

His eyes darted wildly, as if searching for an answer in the shadows of the trees.

The weight of the realization bore down on him, sending a chill through his spine.

"That... monster," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It must've caught them. And if it caught them..."

He swallowed hard, his throat dry.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"It's coming for me."

The blonde man reached into his coat with trembling hands, fumbling for the magic teleportation scroll.

His breath hitched as he pulled it out, the familiar texture of the enchanted parchment giving him a flicker of hope.

"Let me make this work again," he muttered to himself, his voice shaky but determined. "Hmmm."

Unrolling the scroll, he focused his energy on the intricate runes etched onto its surface, chanting the activation words under his breath.

The air around him began to hum softly, faint sparks of light flickering around the edges of the scroll.

Stay tuned to empire

But then—FZZZZZT! The hum sputtered out abruptly, leaving only an eerie silence. The scroll disintegrated into ash in his hands, the magical energy dissipating into the air like a dying gasp.

"What?!" he screamed, staring at his empty palms in disbelief. "No, no, no!" He clenched his fists, crushing the remaining ashes, and threw them to the ground in frustration. His golden curls fell across his face as he bent over, seething. "Damn it all to the Abyss!"

The blonde man paced in frantic circles, muttering to himself. "Why didn't it work? Did I use too much mana earlier? Was the scroll defective and can only be used once? Damn those merchants and their faulty goods!" His voice rose with each word, his anger bubbling over.

But then, just as quickly as his rage flared, he stopped. He took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to calm down.

"No... I can't panic. Not now." He ran a hand through his hair, straightening his posture. "Why am I rushing? That Orc... It can't possibly find me. Not without the hounds. They're dead now, so the trail ends with them."

Reassuring himself, the blonde man let out a shaky laugh, his body relaxing slightly. He dropped to the ground in a slouch, leaning back against the thick trunk of a tree.

The forest floor was damp and cool, a stark contrast to the firestorm of nerves still simmering within him.

He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky through the canopy of leaves. "I'm fine. I'm safe." He closed his eyes, letting the stillness of the forest seep into him.

"That Orc might be strong, but it's just a brute. No intelligence. It probably doesn't even know where to start looking now that the hounds are gone."

For a moment, he allowed himself to relax, the tension draining from his limbs. A strange emptiness filled him, though, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Something felt... off. Something was missing.

"What is this?" he whispered, clutching his chest as if trying to locate the source of the unease.

The absence of his hounds weighed heavily on him, like losing a piece of himself.

"Tch, useless sentimentality," he muttered, shaking his head. "They were just tools. Replaceable. Nothing more."

Refocusing his thoughts, he sat up straighter, his expression hardening.

"No matter. This could still work to my advantage. I'll return to Father and report everything. That Orc is valuable—far more than I realized."

A sinister smile curled at his lips as the gears in his mind began to turn.

"Yes, once we capture it, it'll make the perfect slave. Enslavement magic can bind even the strongest creatures if done right. And with its power, it'll be unstoppable under our control."

The blonde man's eyes glinted with a cruel light as he leaned back against the tree, picturing his imagined future.

The Orc, bound and shackled, its immense strength turned into a weapon at his family's command.

He could already hear the praise his father would lavish upon him.

"Yes," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "We'll make it kneel."

The blonde man leaned back against the tree, his smirk still lingering as he envisioned the glory that awaited him.

His thoughts drifted to the Orc, its massive frame bound in chains, kneeling before his father's court.

He could already feel the weight of his father's approving gaze, the pride in his voice as he praised his cunning.

"Yes," he whispered again, almost dreamily. "This will all be worth it. That brute will serve us... and it will serve me."

But then, like a creeping shadow, a sensation began to settle over him—a subtle but undeniable feeling of wrongness.

It started as a faint prickling at the back of his neck, like the sensation of being watched.

He frowned, the smirk fading from his lips as his fingers drummed against his knee.

"What is this...?" he muttered, sitting up straight. His golden hair fell into his face as he tilted his head, trying to listen to the forest around him.

It was quiet, too quiet.

The usual symphony of chirping insects and rustling leaves was absent, replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence.

The unease deepened, spreading through his chest like a cold fog. He clutched his shirt, his heartbeat quickening.

"No, no, I'm overthinking it. The hounds are gone. But I'm sure the Orc can't track me. I'm safe, like always..."

He said the words aloud, as if hearing them would make them true.

But the feeling didn't go away.

Instead, it grew stronger, an almost physical weight pressing down on him. His thoughts began to spiral, racing through every detail of his escape.

The teleportation spell had worked perfectly; he had landed far enough away.

The hounds had sacrificed themselves, ensuring no one could follow their trail.

So why did it feel like something was closing in on him?

The blonde man stood abruptly, pacing back and forth. His boots crunched against the damp leaves as he muttered to himself, his voice low and frantic. "Think, think! What am I missing? The Orc can't possibly know where I am. It's impossible. The hounds took care of that. And yet..."

His mind flickered back to the moment the hounds had died.

He had felt it—a sudden severing of their connection, as sharp and final as the snap of a thread.

Their loyalty had been absolute, their deaths a testament to their devotion.

So why did their sacrifice feel... hollow?