Chapter 131: When the children die

The orcs laughed, their deep, guttural voices echoing through the war-torn streets as they held their ground against the relentless assault of the human Ranked Pillars.BRAHAHAHHAHAHA!

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Bullets whizzed through the air, and the loud, thunderous BANG! BANG! BANG! of gunfire filled the atmosphere, but the orcs barely flinched.

Their thick hides and bone clubs absorbed the brunt of the attacks, and their confidence only seemed to grow with each failed human assault.

Volk stood amidst his horde, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the battlefield.

His heart was thumping so hard, not from the heat of battle, but from a growing time that was being wasted.

He could even hear the ticking clock in his mind.

Every second slipping away felt like sand through his fingers.

The system's countdown felt fast—forty minutes left, and still, they were no closer to victory.

His jaw clenched.

They needed to end this.

Fast.

"We don't have time for this," Volk muttered under his breath, gripping his axe tighter.

His thoughts turned to his Grum-gar form—the towering, radioactive behemoth that could turn the tide of battle in an instant.

If he could just tap into that power, they could finish this once and for all.

But before he could voice his plan, a deep chuckle rose beside him.

Grashk, his friend orc in the same age, now holding a massive, bone club he wielded like a shield, turned to Volk with a knowing grin.

"I know what you're thinking… You think you can turn into Grum-gar form?"

Grashk said, his voice thick with amusement. "Even if you try, you won't be able to, Volk." He grunted as he raised his club, blocking another barrage of bullets from the Pillars' guns.

Volk was surprised, "How do you-" then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he growled, half-deflecting a blast with his own axe, the edge of it scraping against the incoming projectiles. Searᴄh the NôᴠelFirё.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Grashk's laughter rumbled deep in his chest as he slammed his club into the ground, sending a shockwave that rattled the nearby debris.

"Our wives," he said, eyes glinting with mischief. "We can only turn into Grum-gar if they are near. But now… they are realms apart. We can't transform, not while they're so far away."

Volk felt a jolt of surprise course through him. He hadn't known this. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the information. He had been counting on his Grum-gar form as a last resort, but now…

"How can that be?" Volk asked, his voice tight as he parried another incoming attack with his axe. "What if we transform? What does it mean?"

Grashk raised his bone club high, and with a savage grin, he brought it crashing down into the earth again, cracking the stone beneath their feet.

"If we transform," he began, his voice almost reverent, "it means we don't need our wives anymore. And if we don't need them, it means we can do whatever we want. Plus, it's a sign we'll never shrink again. That's why we protect the elven witches. That's why we always return to them."

Volk's mind began to spin.

Protecting the witches—that had always been the priority for orcs like Grashk.

They believed their power was tied to them. But Volk had never needed a wife to transform.

Back when he first unlocked his radioactive form, he didn't have Solluha'r by his side.

How had he managed to awaken his power then?

"Why was I able to transform without my wife? Why could I use the Grum-gar form back then?" Volk demanded, his voice laced with confusion.

Grashk glanced at him, his grin fading slightly. "You were in a territory," he said simply.

"A territory filled with battle, blood, and the energy of war. Especially magic. That's why you could. But if you had been in the Catacombs, facing the Warlock without a wife, you wouldn't have been able to transform. That's the way it works."

Volk felt a knot of frustration form in his chest. Experience more content on mvl

So that was the secret?

It had to do with the territory?

It didn't matter now.

He didn't have time to dwell on it.

Whether or not Grashk was right, Volk was still confident in his system.

He could still transform into his radioactive form.

But the question remained—how would the other orcs react? If he used his radioactive form, which was similar to Grum-gar, would they start to believe they didn't need the witches anymore?

Would it change their entire belief system? And if that happened, how could he control them?

His thoughts began to run as he deflected another volley of attacks from the Ranked Pillars.

Grashk was right about one thing—if the orcs thought they no longer needed their wives, it could lead to chaos.

They might refuse to return to their old ways, and that would cause a rift in their ranks.

Especially, right now.

Volk couldn't afford that right now.

But there was something else gnawing at him—why had he been able to transform without a wife, while the others couldn't?

How had he broken the rules that bound his kind?

He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts.

It didn't matter.

What mattered now was completing the mission.

The children they had captured were useful as hostages, but Volk knew it would take time to wear down the Pillars and kill them all. And time was something he didn't have.

He needed to lure the Ranked Pillars into a trap.

A quick, decisive strike.

His mind sharpened as he watched the battlefield unfold before him.

The humans were relentless, but Volk could sense their exhaustion. Their mana reserves were running low.

The speed and ferocity of their attacks were beginning to falter.

That's when Volk knew it was time to act.

A cold smile curled across his lips as he turned to his horde. "Get ready," he commanded, his voice low but filled with authority. "We'll lure them in."

The orcs grinned, their bloodlust rising. Even Grashk, who had been musing about their inability to transform, nodded in agreement.

They were eager for battle, and Volk could feel their excitement building.

Volk raised his axe, the heavy blade gleaming in the pale light of the dying sun. His muscles tensed as he prepared for the next wave of attacks.

The human Pillars were nearly spent.

He could see it in their movements—their hesitation, their slower reactions.

As the next barrage of human firepower hit their shields, Volk stepped forward, blocking with his axe.

Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off his weapon, and for a moment, the battlefield seemed to still.

The humans were tiring, and the orcs were ready.

Volk turned toward the building where the children were held.

He glanced at them, huddled together, eyes wide with terror.

They were weak, defenseless.

A perfect bait.

With a deliberate motion, Volk raised his axe high into the air.

The human Pillars watched in horror, their eyes widening as they realized what was about to happen.

Without a second thought, Volk brought the axe down, aiming directly at the children.

The battlefield fell silent, save for the soft whimpering of the terrified children.

The Ranked Pillars, though weakened, sprang into action, their voices rising in panic.

"NO! STOP HIM!"

Volk's grin widened as he felt the tide of the battle finally turning in his favor.

The trap was set.