Strongest Radioactive System

Volk wiped the blood off his hands and flicked some of those to the side, he was still processing the world he had stepped into.

The city streets were chaotic, the scent of fear and blood were spreading like heavy mist in the air, everywhere.

As he stood amidst the towering buildings, a new system screen flashed before his eyes.

Ding!

The mechanical chime echoed in his head, and his eyes flicked to the floating screen.

| Current Rank:

| Orcs - Rank 881: 1 Kill |

___

| Top Ranked:

| Asuras - Rank 1: 1890 Kills |

His brow furrowed in surprise.

Rank 881?

One kill?

He glanced down at the dismembered remains of the werewolf, and immediately, a sneer tugged at his lips.

He'd just started, but the highest ranker—this Asura—had nearly two thousand kills?

Volk clenched his fists, the blood on his knuckles cracking.

His eyes scanned the area around him, falling on the other creatures stalking through the streets.

Some of them were monstrous, others twisted versions of animals he had once known, but all of them shared the same goal.

Their attention was focused on the weaker beings—the frail ones running for their lives.

Volk squinted, piecing things together.

Wait a minute... His mind raced, his eyes darting from one fleeing figure to another.

Are we… in some kind of Ranker webtoon world?

The realization of what was happening seemed to hit him hard, like a punch to the gut, piercing through his muscular abs.

He'd read stories like this back in his old life, devouring webtoons and novels about apocalyptic scenarios and ranking systems.

The dimensional cracks, the monsters pouring through, the weak fighting for survival—it all started to make sense now.

And we...

He glanced at his hands again, at the muscular hands, the veins pulsing with unnatural and destructive power.

We're the monsters?

He couldn't help but let out a low chuckle, though there was no humor in it.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him.

In his past life, he'd always imagined being one of the survivors, one of the humans fighting off the monstrous invaders. And now?

He was on the other side of the equation, a beast from another dimension, sent to destroy.

Volk was speechless.

The sheer absurdity of it left him momentarily stunned.

Suddenly, the sound of something heavy being kicked echoed from behind him.

He turned and saw the mangled corpse of the werewolf sliding across the pavement.

The Orcs from his clan were standing there, their eyes wide, waiting for him to lead.

"Young Warchief!" one of them growled, his voice low and uncertain. "What do we do now?"

Volk blinked, his mind snapping back to the present.

The Orc behind him glanced at the humans—those fragile creatures still darting through the streets, trying to escape the monsters that were slowly closing in on them.

Volk's gaze followed.

He watched as a blob-like creature slithered through the street, its gelatinous form undulating with sickening squelches.

A human—a woman in torn clothing—was sprinting down an alley, her breath ragged and panicked.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

She stumbled over debris, her face pale with terror as the blob closed in on her, its amorphous shape pulling her into its mass with a wet schlorp.

Volk's jaw tightened. He turned back to his clan. "We need to kill as many as we can," he said, his voice calm but firm. "If we don't, all of you will shrink. And soon, you'll be as weak as goblins."

The Orcs looked at each other, hesitant. One of them, a large, scarred brute with tusks chipped from battle, pointed toward the humans. "These things?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. "You want us to kill… those weaklings?"

Volk's eyes followed the Orc's gesture, landing on a group of terrified humans huddled behind a broken-down vehicle.

They were shaking, eyes wide, whispering frantically among themselves as they watched the monsters roam the streets.

"Yes," Volk said, his voice steady. "Them."

The Orcs shuffled nervously.

They weren't used to killing something that couldn't fight back.

They thrived on the thrill of battle, the adrenaline that came from facing a strong opponent. But here… these humans were different.

They weren't warriors.

They were prey.

"But Warchief…" one of the younger Orcs muttered, scratching his head. "These things are too weak. There's no glory in it. Are you sure this is the right move?"

Volk's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Look around you. See the monsters?" He pointed to the blob creature that had now finished absorbing its prey, its gelatinous mass rippling as it moved on to find its next victim.

"They aren't attacking each other. Only the weak things."

The Orcs followed his gaze, watching the other creatures moving through the streets.

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The werewolves, the blobs, the twisted beasts—they weren't fighting amongst themselves.

They were all focused on hunting the same prey.

The weaklings.

Realization dawned on the Orcs, and a murmur ran through the group.

Volk watched them for a moment, his mind whirring as he processed the situation.

"I know, although we shouldn't do it, we would be weakened if we don't. Just consider them a hunting target for a real things," he said. Making the Orcs behind him narrowed their eyes and then immediately nodding their heads.

This world, the ranking system, the apocalypse…

It was like a twisted game, where the strong preyed on the weak to climb the ranks. And right now, the Orcs were at the bottom. Rank 881.

If they wanted to survive—if they wanted to keep their strength—they had to follow the rules of this world. They had to play the game.

"Do it," Volk commanded, his voice like steel. "Hunt them. Kill them. Or we all shrink."

The Orcs shifted uneasily, their eyes darting between Volk and the humans.

There was still hesitation in the air, uncertainty hanging over the group like a dark cloud.

Volk's hand shot up suddenly, and his voice boomed, "Wait!"

The Orcs froze, staring at him, waiting for his next command.

Volk's brow furrowed, his mind racing.

Something felt off.

Yes, they needed to kill, but there had to be a smarter way to approach this. He wasn't a mindless brute, and neither were his clan. He had to think strategically.

If this really is a ranking world, there must be a way to climb quickly.

A way to exploit the system.

He glanced at the nearby buildings, the humans still running, the monsters continuing their hunt. His mind flashed to the leaderboard—Asuras with 1890 kills.

They had to be killing efficiently, not just wandering aimlessly like beasts.

Volk lowered his hand, eyes sharp as he scanned the city. He could feel the weight of the system, the unspoken rules of this twisted world pressing down on him. But he wasn't about to make a rash move.

He was smarter than that.

Stronger.

With a deep breath, Volk nodded to himself.

"Let me think first," he said, his voice calm but authoritative.

The Orcs stood at attention, waiting, as Volk's gaze swept over the city once more. Somewhere

The Orcs stood at attention, waiting, as Volk's gaze swept over the city once more.

Somewhere out there, the higher ranks were playing the game. But Volk wasn't going to rush in blindly.

He would figure this out. And when he did, nothing would stop him from climbing to the top.