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 little goblins shifted nervously, their tiny, malnourished frames trembling under Volk's towering presence. Yet, their eyes—dim and haunted—held a faint spark of something Volk hadn't seen in them before: purpose. One of the goblins, the same small one who had spoken earlier, took a timid step forward and cleared its throat, glancing hesitantly up at him.

"W-We… we need things," it stammered, its voice cracking. "Tools. Wood. Metal. Rope. Anything we can find."

Volk's crimson eyes narrowed as he looked down at the creature. "Things? For what?" he asked, crossing his arms, his voice low and almost predatory. The goblins flinched at his tone, but the little one mustered its courage.

"To… build," it whispered. Its fingers fidgeted nervously, wringing the tattered edge of its sleeve. "If we're to make what my father did, we'll need things to work with. We'll need tools and… and…"

"And what?" Volk pressed, his patience beginning to wear thin.

Aerial Assault Goblins