Strongest Radioactive System

Volk narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the bloodied, laughing form of Kragath.

The other Orcs had fallen silent, their earlier frenzy fading into a tense stillness as they watched their Warchief confront the fallen gladiator.

"What are you talking about, Kragath?" Volk asked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Kragath's laughter faltered for a moment, his shoulders shaking as he drew in a wheezing breath. But then it returned, louder, deeper, more manic.

"What…am I talking about?" Kragath rasped, his lips curling into a crimson-streaked grin. His voice was strained, yet it carried an eerie, mocking edge. "What am I talking about?"

He repeated the question, louder this time, the words punctuated by laughter.

"What am I talking about?" he bellowed, his voice cracking but unrelenting. He dragged himself into a half-sitting position, leaning on his battered arms. "Oh, you really don't know, do you? HA! What am I talking about?!"

The other Orcs exchanged uneasy glances, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.

Volk's jaw tightened. "Enough games. Speak clearly."

Kragath ignored him, his laughter growing even more unhinged.

"What am I talking about?!" he roared again, slamming his fist into the ground. Blood dripped from his knuckles, but he didn't seem to care. "What am I talking about?!"

One of the younger Orcs in the crowd shifted uncomfortably, his brows knitting together. "What is he saying?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Another Orc, older and scarred, growled in frustration. "He's just mad. Beaten too many times. Ignore him."

But Kragath's laughter didn't let them. It was infectious in the worst way, gnawing at their nerves and demanding attention.

"Do you have any idea…" Kragath finally gasped, his voice dropping into a hoarse whisper that was somehow even more menacing than his earlier outbursts. He tilted his head, fixing Volk with a bloodshot glare. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Volk didn't flinch, but his gaze sharpened. "I've defeated you. I've claimed your horde. That's all."

Kragath chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Is it, though? Is that all you've done?" He spat blood onto the dirt and grinned, his teeth stained red. "You beat me. You humiliated me. And now you think it's over?"

The air grew heavier with every word he spoke, the tension thickening like a storm cloud.

"Do you have any idea what you did?" Kragath asked again, his tone mockingly calm. His eyes scanned the gathered Orcs, lingering on their wary expressions. "Beating me… Becoming a new Chief… Forming your little horde…"

The Orcs bristled at his tone, but no one spoke. Even Volk remained silent, his eyes locked on Kragath as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning.

Kragath smirked, his head lolling slightly as he leaned back against the dirt. "No? None of you? Really?" His voice dripped with derision. "You don't have the faintest idea what you've done?"

The gathered Orcs exchanged confused glances, their earlier bravado now replaced with unease.

"What is he saying?" one of them muttered.

Another growled under his breath. "He's just trying to mess with us."

But Volk wasn't so sure. He stepped closer, his massive frame casting a shadow over Kragath. "Enough riddles. If you have something to say, say it."

Kragath tilted his head back and let out another laugh, this one quieter but no less unsettling.

"Oh, I'll say it," he murmured, his voice a chilling whisper that seemed to seep into the very ground. "But first…"

He paused, his bloodied lips curling into a twisted grin.

"Ask yourselves… What have you really done?"

The question hung in the air like a blade, leaving Volk and his horde to stare at Kragath in bewilderment.

None of them could answer, not even their Warchief. And the silence that followed was louder than any battle cry.

Kragath's bloodied chest heaved as his laughter finally subsided, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The Orcs around him shifted uncomfortably, their earlier confidence replaced with unease. Volk stood tall, his piercing eyes fixed on the fallen gladiator, waiting for his cryptic mockery to unravel into something tangible.

Kragath tilted his head, his gaze sweeping across the gathered Orcs with a strange mixture of disdain and pity. His voice, low and hoarse at first, carried the weight of a confession that demanded to be heard.

"You fools," he began, his lips curling into a grim smile. "You think you've won something. You think you've done something great by beating me down. But do you have any idea what you've just destroyed?"

"What are you talking about?" Volk demanded, his tone sharp.

Kragath coughed, blood spattering his chin, but the grin never left his face.

"What am I talking about?" he echoed, the words dripping with derision. "I'm talking about me. About the burden I've carried. The sacrifices I've made. The chains I've worn so you—all of you—could still walk this land!"

The Orcs stirred, their expressions darkening. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but no one dared to interrupt him.

Kragath leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Volk's with a feral intensity.

"You think I'm just some brute who fought in the human arenas for sport? Some savage who clawed his way to power for glory?"

He spat on the ground, the crimson-stained saliva a stark testament to his wounds. "No. I was your savior. The reason the humans didn't wipe you out the moment they laid eyes on you."

The Orcs exchanged glances, their confusion mounting. "What do you mean?" one of them finally asked, his voice barely above a growl.

Kragath chuckled, a bitter, hollow sound. "This region? This forest? The mountains you hide in? It should have been cleansed long ago. The humans wanted to eradicate us. They wanted our heads on pikes and our bodies fed to their hounds."

He jabbed a finger into the dirt, his voice rising with every word. "And do you know what stopped them? Me! I stopped them! By playing their game. By bowing my head. By offering them just enough blood to satisfy their hunger without making them think we were worth a full-scale war."

The Orcs recoiled, their faces twisting in a mix of disbelief and disgust.

"I fought in their arenas," Kragath continued, his voice raw with emotion. "I spilled blood for their entertainment. I let them chain me, whip me, starve me—all so they wouldn't look too closely at the rest of you. All so they wouldn't think it was worth hunting you down like animals!"

His eyes burned as he glared at the gathered crowd. "Do you think I enjoyed it? Do you think I wanted to kneel to those weaklings in their shiny armor? I hated it. Every moment of it. But I did it. For you."

One of the Orcs growled, his fists clenching. "You call that saving us? You betrayed your own kind! You let them take Orcs!"

"Yes, I did!" Kragath roared, his voice shaking with fury. "I let them take a few. A handful. To keep the rest of you alive!"

The crowd bristled, but Kragath pressed on, his tone hardening. "You think you're so righteous? So pure? Tell me, what would you have done? Fought back? Died like dogs? Left your families to be hunted down, slaughtered, or worse?"

Kragath's gaze swept over the group, his expression a mask of contempt and sorrow. "You have no idea what it means to bear this kind of burden. To know that every swing of your weapon, every drop of blood you spill, is another day of survival for your people."

He turned his eyes to Volk, his voice softening. "And you. You think you're a leader now? A Warchief? Do you have the stomach for it? The will to do whatever it takes to keep your horde alive? Even if it means staining your soul in ways you'll never wash clean?"

Volk's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Kragath laughed bitterly.

"I didn't just fight in their arenas. I negotiated with their lords. I gave them what they wanted—blood, sport, submission—so they wouldn't come looking for the rest of you.

"And now? Now that you've beaten me? Now that you've claimed my horde?"

He spread his arms, his grin turning into a snarl. "You've broken the balance. You've destroyed the fragile truce that kept the humans from marching into this forest and burning everything to the ground."

The crowd erupted in murmurs, some of the Orcs looking uneasy, others furious.

"Lies," one of them spat. "You just want us to pity you."

"Is it pity," Kragath shot back, "if it's the truth?"

Another Orc growled. "You should have fought them, not bargained with them!"

Kragath's laugh returned, harsh and grating.

"Fought them? With what army? With what weapons? You don't even know the size of their forces, the strength of their steel. You're just blind fools who think courage alone can win wars."

Volk stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Enough. If what you're saying is true, then tell me this: what happens now?"Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Kragath's laughter faded, leaving only a grim smile. "Now?" He leaned back, his bloodied body trembling with exhaustion.

"Now, you deal with the consequences. You deal with the humans who will come looking for me. For all of you."

He chuckled softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You've killed your savior. Let's see if you can save yourselves."

The Orcs fell silent, the weight of Kragath's words settling over them like a storm cloud.

Even Volk found himself at a loss, the enormity of what he'd just learned leaving him with more questions than answers.

"What…have we done?" one of the Orcs finally muttered, echoing Kragath's earlier taunt.

Kragath smirked, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back. "Exactly," he murmured. "What have you done?"