Strongest Radioactive System

The harpy warband circled the cavernous entrance like a flock of dark omens silhouetted against the twilight sky.

Their wings sliced through the wind with rhythmic precision, carrying them effortlessly in wide, lazy arcs above the jagged maw of the cave.

Their iridescent feathers shimmered faintly under the failing light, each beat of their wings scattering dust and debris into the air below.

The hum of their gliding flight resonated faintly across the valley, an eerie whisper that underscored the stillness settling over the land.

The harpy leader—a tall, sinewy figure with charcoal-colored feathers streaked with silver—hovered slightly above the others.

His wings extended gracefully, his sharp talons curling and uncurling with agitation as his piercing yellow eyes fixed on the dark void of the cave's entrance.

His gaze was predatory, scanning every shadow, every crevice, as though daring something within to make a move. And yet, nothing came.

No movement. No sound. Just the yawning mouth of the cavern staring back at him like a beast lying in wait.

The other harpies circled lower, gliding smoothly over the terrain as their sharp eyes combed through the brush, the boulders, and the faint tracks left behind by the Orcs and Ogres.

Their talons skimmed the ground lightly as they banked into turns, their feathers ruffling against the wind before they ascended again into the air.

A few of them barked terse observations to one another, their voices sharp and birdlike—clipped sounds that cut through the silence like blades.

"Tracks lead inward. Fresh. They didn't scatter. They all went in together."

"What of the traps?" came another voice, sharper this time. It was from a younger harpy who dipped low, sweeping close enough to the ground to disturb a patch of dirt before lifting into the air again.

"There's nothing. No pits. No tripwires. No spikes. Not a single sign of a trap anywhere near the entrance."

"Unlikely," another harpy interjected, her tone cold and skeptical as she narrowed her keen eyes. Her green feathers bristled slightly against the wind. "They're Orcs. Vengeful creatures. Sloppy with their rage, but cunning in their own brutish way. Why would they retreat without leaving something behind?"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the circling flock.

The leader frowned deeply, his thin lips curling into a snarl as he descended further into the airspace above the cave. He hovered for a long moment, his wings beating softly as his gaze swept over the entrance. It was dark—pitch black—and uncomfortably quiet. He clicked his beak-like teeth together softly, his eyes narrowing as an unsettling thought began to gnaw at the edges of his mind.

"They're hiding something," he muttered, his voice barely louder than a growl. "They know we'd expect traps. They know we'd be cautious. This silence isn't an accident. It's deliberate."

The younger harpy from before flapped into place beside him, her expression torn between confusion and curiosity. "But leader, if they wanted us to think there were traps, wouldn't that mean there are traps? Or… no? Are we overthinking it?"

"Of course we are, you fool!" barked another harpy, who swooped closer to join the conversation, his impatience evident. His blood-red feathers ruffled as he gestured toward the cavern. "They've gone in. Maybe they've given up. Maybe they're licking their wounds deep in that cave. Maybe they're too broken to fight. Why else would they retreat so far in without a single fight or barricade?"

"It's a bluff."

The leader's voice snapped across the group like a whip. The harpies quieted at once, their circling growing slower and tighter as they focused on him. His eyes glowed faintly with intensity as he continued, his tone sharp and commanding.

"They know we're watching. They know we'd expect resistance at the entrance. But think—how many times have we fought Orcs? How many times have they retreated, only to draw us into their traps? If we charge in recklessly, they'll have us exactly where they want us."

"But there are no traps, leader."

The statement came from another harpy, this one with an air of calm confidence about her. She swooped low, gliding over the ground just outside the cave and sweeping it with a sharp gaze. "We've flown close. We've scouted every corner of the brush and stones around the entrance. There are no markings. No signs of pits. No pressure stones. Nothing. It's too clean. Too empty."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

A tense silence fell over the group as they processed the words. The wind picked up slightly, tugging at their feathers and scattering dry leaves across the ground. The cave loomed in the background, as silent and still as it had been when they arrived.

The leader clenched his talons, his wings flaring slightly as his frustration simmered to the surface. "Then what are they playing at? Orcs don't just give up. They're too stupid for something like that. So tell me—if there are no traps, if they've fallen silent, why are they waiting?"

No one answered.

The harpies circled lower now, their movements slower and more deliberate. The tension among them grew like a suffocating fog, each of them glancing warily at the cavernous opening below. The shadows within seemed deeper now—darker—like an abyss that swallowed everything whole.

Another harpy finally spoke, her voice shaky. "What if they're dead? Or… waiting for something? Maybe there's nothing left to fight."

"Then why are there no bodies?" the leader snapped, his yellow eyes flashing dangerously as he glared at her. "If they fought something else inside, there would be remains. Blood. Signs of struggle. No—this is deliberate. This is their game."

And yet, as the minutes dragged on and nothing happened—no movement, no sound—the leader's suspicion began to waver. The shadows remained still. The silence stretched endlessly.

Another harpy, the youngest of the group, finally broke the stalemate. With a burst of impatience, he tucked his wings and dove toward the ground, landing in a crouch just outside the cave. The soft thud of his talons echoed faintly against the stone.

"There's nothing here, leader!" he called back, his voice ringing with smug defiance. "We're wasting our time! Look! No traps! Nothing!"

The others exchanged hesitant glances. One by one, a handful of them followed his lead, gliding down to perch on the rocks and soil near the cave's entrance. Their wings folded close to their bodies as they scanned the ground one last time. And still—nothing. No movement. No traps.

Experience exclusive tales on empire

The leader hovered above, his eyes narrowing further as a sense of unease crept up his spine. The quiet… the emptiness… it was unnatural. But as more harpies descended, the pressure grew. He couldn't deny them forever.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, he dropped toward the ground, his talons skimming against the dirt as he landed heavily. The rest of the harpies followed suit, their forms clustering near the cave entrance like a pack of vultures sensing weakness.

"Fine," the leader growled, though his voice remained taut with distrust. He looked toward the darkness beyond, the flickering shadows dancing against the walls of the cave like silent sentinels. "If the cowards want to hide, we'll drag them out ourselves. Prepare to enter—"

The words barely left his mouth before something deeper inside the cave shifted.