Strongest Radioactive System

As Volk's hulking form was forced back, his figure faded into the distance, and the field fell silent, a heavy, almost reverent stillness settling over the ground.

The grandmaster's ethereal form wavered for a moment, and she felt a profound sense of calm wash over her—a sigh of relief so deep it touched the very core of her being.

In that fleeting moment, a cascade of memories surged through her mind, vivid and unbidden, each one sharper than the last.

She could see herself as a young girl, eyes wide with wonder as she wandered her family's modest farm.

Her parents, simple folk with calloused hands and kind hearts, taught her everything they knew, her father's laughter filling her memories like a song.

There were endless fields of golden crops, the smell of fresh earth and rain, and quiet nights under a sky filled with stars.

The young grandmaster's teenage years were no less bright. She'd left the farm to join a city school, and though she missed her family, she felt the thrill of independence.

Friends gathered around her, and she was the leader, the one everyone looked up to for guidance and confidence.

Even then, she'd always excelled, her teachers speaking in hushed tones of her potential. Find your next read on empire

They called her gifted, and their praise felt as if it could lift her off the ground. But beneath it, she began to feel a faint stirring of emptiness—a shadow lurking behind every achievement.

The young grandmaster brushed it aside, telling herself it was just ambition pulling her forward.

Then the monster gates emerged, a dark mystery that swallowed her life whole.

She remembered the training camps, the intense drills, and the raw thrill of her first hunt. She was the fastest to ascend through the ranks, her skill outpacing those around her.

As an E-rank, she was nervous, but she learned fast, dispatching her first monsters with precision.

She grew stronger with each fight, D-rank coming almost effortlessly. But with every new rank, she noticed fewer familiar faces, friends who either gave up or… didn't survive.

With C-rank came a reputation. People knew her name, other hunters admired her, and that feeling of emptiness seemed to grow.

The younger grandmaster wore her smile for them all, but deep down, she felt adrift.

Her strength became a burden, separating her from others, yet she kept pushing, seeking some elusive purpose that remained just beyond her reach.

By the time she reached A-rank, she had wealth, fame, and influence.

People called her a hero, the face of humanity's hope. But that hope weighed on her.

She was always the one to save the day, to stand firm when others fell.

The slightly adult grandmaster thought that maybe, at S-rank, she'd finally feel satisfied, fulfilled. Yet, even there, the thrill dulled, and she found herself wondering why she was fighting.

As she became SS-rank, and then SSS-rank, she was praised endlessly, a figure exalted above all.

People looked to her as a beacon of strength, a symbol of all they aspired to be. But no one truly saw her, the girl who had once laughed in the fields of her family's farm, the girl who yearned for something—someone—to share her burdens.

In the endless waves of applause and admiration, she found herself more isolated than ever.

The adult grandmaster was the best, yes, but she was also alone.

And then, she'd met Bong Me-Eon.

At first, she'd chosen Bong Me-Eon for her tragic background, thinking she could be the one to lift Bong Me-Eon from her sorrow, to help her reshape her destiny.

Yet now, in this quiet moment, the truth became painfully clear: she'd chosen Bong Me-Eon not out of kindness, but out of a need she could hardly bear to acknowledge.

Bong Me-Eon had known hardship, real suffering. She was flawed, broken, and resilient, and it was those qualities the grandmaster had sought to understand.

The grandmaster wanted, desperately, to feel that same vulnerability, to understand what drove someone who was not blessed with innate strength or perfect fortune.

She had taken on a disciple not to teach, but to learn.

Through Bong Me-Eon, she had hoped to finally grasp the mysteries of sorrow and struggle, to feel the weight of true connection.

She'd wanted, needed, to understand what it meant to rely on someone, to be relied upon in return, not as a savior but as a companion, a part of someone's life that went beyond her strength or title.

Now, as the grandmaster stood in the ashes of her own power, holding back a monstrous foe, she understood her purpose.

She wasn't just here to save the day; she was here to build a future for Bong Me-Eon and for Song Woo-Ji, a future she would never see but had fought to make possible.

For the first time, she felt at peace, a calm that went beyond the battles and triumphs of her past.

It wasn't happiness, but it was contentment—a quiet, profound acceptance of her place in the lives she cherished.

And as she gazed out over the battlefield, she felt herself drift, her spirit weaving through the remnants of her ash, anchoring her in the present, in this single, perfect moment where she was finally, truly needed.

Suddenly, Volk's massive hand closed around the grandmaster, and she would see his face with a cruel grin spreading as he felt her weaken beneath his crushing grip.

He sneered, "GOTCHA, WEAK WOMAN! YOU DON'T HAVE MANA ANYMORE!"

She was no longer ash, no longer able to slip through his fingers.

Her life, her power—all bound to her mortal form now. But to his frustration, she simply looked up at him, with a defiant glint in her eyes.

She even dared to smile.

"It doesn't matter," she murmured, her voice filled with an unshakable calm. Slowly, she pointed a thumb over her shoulder, toward the hulking figure of Song Woo-Ji in the distance. "He's awakened."

Volk's smirk vanished. His eyes narrowed, and his fury burned hot, consuming him.

"YOU DARE TO PLAY VOOOOOLK!"

His roar echoed across the battlefield as his fingers crushed down, turning her into nothing more than a broken shell, the blood staining his hand and armor.

"Noooo!!!"

Bong Me-Eon's scream cut through the roar of battle, and her body launched forward, an instinctive, desperate attempt to save her master.

She reached out, her hand trembling as she left Song Woo-Ji's side.

However, Volk saw her approach with a dismissive glare and swung his arm backhanded, catching her with a brutal slap.

The force sent her spinning through the air, her body battered and broken, bones cracking as she hit the ground.

She lay still, breathing shallowly, but the bloody mist—her master's final remnants—reformed, swirling around her.

It softened her impact, its dark magic seeping into her wounds, lessening her injuries even as it faded into the air.

Bong Me-Eon trembled, her eyes wide and filled with helpless fury.

But Volk didn't care about her.

His focus was entirely on the figure in the distance—the system user.

The one who had drawn his wrath, who seemed to be gathering some forbidden power.

Volk sneered, his eyes narrowing as he stomped forward, every step shaking the ground.

Song Woo-Ji's form was nearly unrecognizable, his body suspended in a dark aura of red, gray, and green energy swirling around him like a dense fog.

The very air rippled with the force of decay and death, a nauseating stench filling the battlefield.

The thick miasma stretched out, forming an almost impenetrable barrier.

Volk paused, his lip curling in disgust at the sickly, fetid energy surrounding his prey. But he wasn't deterred; if anything, his determination flared brighter.