Strongest Radioactive System-Chapter 318: Beration, not celebration

The battle against the bat creatures raged on, the air filled with an unsettling mix of screeches and the rhythmic whir of the Horde’s new gliders. Victory felt within reach, but it wasn’t going to come quickly—or easily. Each passing moment was a grind of blood, sweat, and sheer willpower, as the Horde pushed themselves to their limits to adapt and overcome their monstrous foes.

Volk stood at the heart of the chaos, his crimson eyes burning with determination. He barked commands, his voice cutting through the cacophony like a blade. "Goblins, flank left! Orcs, cover their ascent! Ogres—keep the skies clear above them! You’re not here to decorate the ground with your failures!"

One of the goblins zipped through the air, his tiny glider spinning erratically as he dodged a bat creature’s talons. His movements were jerky and unrefined, but he managed to stab his dagger into the beast’s leathery wing. The creature let out a guttural shriek before veering off course, slamming into a tree with a sickening CRACK.

"Good hit, goblin! Now get back into formation before you’re plucked out of the sky!" Volk barked, pointing toward the center of their aerial ranks.

The goblin nodded frantically, his glider wobbling as he darted back into position.

An orc let out a battle cry as he drove his blade into the chest of another bat creature, the sheer force of the attack sending the monster spiraling downward. But before the orc could revel in his victory, another bat swooped down from above, its claws raking across his glider. The orc grunted in frustration, struggling to maintain control as his glider wavered dangerously.

"ORC!" Volk roared, his voice sharp with urgency. "Pull up! Pull up now, or you’ll crash!"

The orc obeyed, yanking on the controls with all his strength. His glider tilted upward just in time to avoid the jagged rocks below, though the strain on his face made it clear how close he’d come to disaster.

"Don’t get cocky!" Volk snarled, his eyes narrowing. "One kill doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. Stay sharp, or I’ll personally throw you into the next fight without a glider!"

The orc growled in acknowledgment, his grip tightening on the controls as he steeled himself for the next round.

Meanwhile, the ogres were proving to be a mixed blessing. Their sheer size and strength made them formidable against the bat creatures, but their lack of agility was a constant problem. One ogre swung his massive club, striking a bat creature mid-air with a resounding BOOM. The beast crumpled under the force of the blow, its body plummeting to the ground like a stone.

But another ogre wasn’t so lucky. His glider wobbled precariously as he swung at a bat creature, missing by a wide margin. The momentum of his swing threw him off balance, and his glider tilted dangerously to one side.

"OGRE!" Volk shouted, his voice filled with frustration. "What did I say about overcommitting to your swings?! Balance first, attack second! You’re no use to us if you crash into the ground like an idiot!"

The ogre grumbled but adjusted his stance, managing to steady himself just as another bat creature swooped toward him. This time, he waited for the right moment before swinging, his club connecting with a satisfying THWACK that sent the beast hurtling into the canopy below.

Despite the mounting casualties among the bat creatures, the fight was far from over. The monsters seemed endless, their dark shapes flitting through the air like shadows, their screeches reverberating through the forest. Every time the Horde gained ground, another wave of bats would descend, their talons flashing like blades in the moonlight.

Volk clenched his fists, his sharp mind racing as he analyzed the battlefield. He could see the progress his Horde had made—their movements were more coordinated now, their strikes more precise—but there were still too many mistakes, too many openings for the bat creatures to exploit.

"GOBLINS! Don’t cluster together! Spread out and use your speed to outmaneuver them!" Volk shouted, his voice laced with urgency. "Orcs, watch the goblins’ backs! If one of them goes down, it’s on you!"

The goblins scattered, their gliders weaving through the air like darting swallows. One of them managed to outflank a bat creature, driving a small spear into its side. The beast let out a piercing shriek, thrashing wildly before collapsing into a heap on the forest floor.

"Good! Keep at it!" Volk roared, his lips curling into a grim smile. "Show these monsters what happens when they cross the Horde of Lyern!"

The tide of battle began to shift. The Horde was no longer just surviving; they were fighting back with growing confidence and skill. The goblins darted through the air like tiny assassins, their blades and spears finding their marks with increasing accuracy. The orcs formed a solid line of defense, their swords and axes cleaving through the bat creatures with brutal efficiency. And the ogres, despite their clumsiness, used their immense strength to devastating effect, their massive weapons smashing through the enemy ranks like battering rams.

But the fight wasn’t swift. It was a war of attrition, a test of endurance and determination. Sweat dripped down Volk’s face as he barked command after command, his voice hoarse but unwavering. He could see the exhaustion in his Horde, the strain in their movements, but he also saw their resolve.

"Hold the line!" Volk shouted, his voice ringing with authority. "We’ve come too far to lose now! Fight like your lives depend on it—because they do!"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last bat creature fell, its body crumpling to the ground with a dull THUD. The forest fell silent, the air heavy with the scent of blood and sweat.

Volk stood tall, his crimson eyes scanning the battlefield. His Horde was battered and bruised, their new gliders covered in scratches and dents, but they were alive. They had fought, they had adapted, and they had won.

A faint smirk played across Volk’s lips as he took a deep breath, his chest heaving with exhaustion. "Not bad," he muttered, his voice low but filled with pride. "Not bad at all."

As the final bat creature crumpled to the ground with a sickening THUD, the forest fell into an eerie silence. For a brief moment, the Horde stood frozen, their eyes scanning the battlefield, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, as the weight of their victory sank in, a roar of triumph erupted from their ranks. Read exclusive chapters at novelbuddy

The goblins whooped and cheered, their small forms bounding into the air, gliders abandoned on the ground as they celebrated. The orcs slammed their weapons against their shields with thunderous CLANGS, their cries echoing through the forest. Even the ogres, bruised and battered, let out deep, guttural bellows of victory, their massive fists raised high.

But just as the jubilation reached its peak, Volk’s booming voice cut through the noise like a blade.

"Silence!" he bellowed, his crimson eyes blazing as he stepped forward. The cheering faltered, and the Horde quickly fell quiet, their triumphant expressions fading under Volk’s glare.

"Celebrate?" Volk spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think this calls for celebration? Look around you!" He gestured sharply toward the battlefield, littered with the shattered remains of gliders, broken weapons, and the bloodied bodies of both the bat creatures and his own Horde. "This wasn’t smooth. This wasn’t efficient. This was a mess!"

The goblins, who had been practically glowing with pride moments earlier, now shrank back, their wide eyes darting to the ground. The orcs exchanged uneasy glances, and the ogres shifted uncomfortably, their massive frames hunched as if trying to shrink under Volk’s withering gaze.

"You call this progress?" Volk continued, his voice rising with fury. "You were sloppy! Uncoordinated! Half of you didn’t even know where you were supposed to be, let alone how to execute an effective attack!"

He turned sharply to one of the goblins, whose face was smeared with soot and whose glider was missing a wing. "You," Volk snapped, his tone icy. "How many times did I tell you to maintain formation? Do you even know the meaning of the word?!"

The goblin stammered, his small hands wringing together nervously. "I—I thought—"

"You thought wrong!" Volk barked, cutting him off. "You broke formation three times, and each time you almost got yourself killed. If the enemy had been stronger, you’d be nothing more than a smear on the ground!"

He turned to an orc next, his eyes narrowing. "And you! What in the gods’ names were you doing? Swinging blindly at anything that moved? You’re not an ogre, you fool! Use your head or lose it!"

The orc’s jaw tightened, but he nodded stiffly, his face flushed with shame.

Volk paced in front of the Horde, his crimson eyes scanning each member with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. "You want to celebrate? Fine. Celebrate when you’ve earned it. Celebrate when your movements are precise, when your formations are unbreakable, when your enemies don’t even have a chance to lay a claw on you before they’re dead at your feet. That’s when you celebrate. Not now."

The Horde stood in tense silence, their heads bowed as Volk’s words sank in.

After a moment, Volk let out a heavy sigh, his expression softening slightly. "But," he said, his tone calmer now, "you fought. You endured. And you survived. That means something. It means you have potential. But potential isn’t enough."

He straightened, his crimson eyes blazing once more. "We’re not here to scrape by. We’re here to dominate. To conquer. To be the force that every creature fears when they see us coming. And if you want to be that force, then you’ll need to be better. Much better."

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The Horde nodded, their expressions a mixture of determination and shame.

"Good," Volk said, his voice firm. "Now pick up your gear, repair your gliders, and prepare for the next fight. There’s no rest for the weak, and right now, you’re all still weak."

As the Horde dispersed to carry out his orders, Volk stood alone for a moment, his sharp mind already analyzing the battle. He knew they had made progress—however rough and unrefined—but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. Not until every movement, every strike, was flawless.

The sound of hammers on metal and the murmurs of the Horde filled the air as they began their work, and Volk allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. They would get there. He would make sure of it.

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