Espiritu_Santu

VOLK SMAAAAASSH!

Reincarnated with a body like a nuclear bomb, let's turn this magical world into a nuclear wasteland!

As someone who loved fighting, Volk Mogger was the most miserable of them all.

Born with a small frame, tiny limbs, and underdeveloped muscles, he struggled to grasp anything that was taught to him. He was relegated to merely watching others fight—whether on the internet, on television, or in real life.

One day, while riding in his wheelchair, he was abducted and taken to a strange place for a radioactive experiment, which ultimately failed.

However, Volk soon discovered that he had been reincarnated in a magical world as a member of an Orc horde, which was hunted by higher life forms despite merely wanting to establish a land where they could honor their traditions and build a home alongside their symbiotic partners, the Elven Witch races.

Suddenly, a system screen appeared before Volk, announcing that he had acquired the power to transform into an invincible radioactive titan who yearns to be the strongest of them all.

However, this transformation had a time limit, and to extend that limit, he had to win! But win what?

Ding! 

| Beat up the Orcs thief who stole your spoil and a chance to have a wife!

| Reward: Extend the radioactive time to 2 minutes. 

| Failure: Minus 1 minute.

| Current radioactive time: 2 minutes. |

Strongest Radioactive System

The shadows in the cave swallowed everything whole—the light, the sound, and even the faintest sense of time.

It was as though the very air had thickened, suffocating any trace of clarity or warmth.

The Ogres and Orcs moved like spectral figures through the murk, their lumbering forms occasionally silhouetted by the fleeting glow of torchlight before they were consumed by darkness once more.

Volk stood in the center of his horde, his gaze sharp and calculating as he observed the task before him. His eyes gleamed like predatory embers, cutting through the dark.

"Cover everything," he ordered, his voice a low snarl that carried through the echoing chambers.

"Every track, every footstep, every scuff of claw or hoof. I want nothing left behind that those winged pests can follow. Confuse them. Trap them in their own arrogance. Let them believe they're the hunters—until the dark swallows them whole."