Strongest Radioactive System

A tense, simmering silence followed the harpy leader's sharp command. The words "Prepare to enter" hung in the air like a poison cloud, and it wasn't long before dissent began to ripple through the gathered flock. First came the shuffling of talons against stone—the restless scraping of claws as several harpies hesitated, their wings twitching nervously. Then, the murmurs started. Soft at first, uncertain whispers exchanged between uneasy comrades, but they grew louder, sharper, like cracks spidering across glass.

"Why should we go in?" one harpy finally blurted, her voice cutting through the heavy stillness. She was a smaller figure, her pale green feathers shivering with agitation as she turned toward the leader. "What proof do we have that they're even worth pursuing? The Orcs are vengeful, yes—but they're not clever. If they're hiding, let them rot in there. Why risk our necks to pull them out?"

The leader's yellow eyes flared, his talons curling into fists, but before he could snap back, another voice joined the dissent.

Read exclusive content at empire

"She's right. This stinks of a trap!" This harpy, taller and broad-shouldered with streaks of crimson feathers along his arms, stepped forward. His beak-like teeth clicked with frustration as his wings extended slightly for emphasis. "We've seen it before. Orcs lure enemies in when they're weak and desperate. You said it yourself—they're vengeful. What if they're just waiting to collapse the cave on top of us? What if we're walking into their graves along with them?"

"And what if we're overthinking it?" another harpy snapped back, her voice a sharp screech as she spun on her talons to glare at the dissenters. Her deep violet feathers bristled against the wind as she sneered. "You think Orcs are that smart? You think those lumbering brutes planned all of this just to catch us in a trap? It's not like they have the brains for it. They're running. Hiding. They're too broken to fight us, and now you want to let them slip away like cowards?"

"You don't know that!" The broad-shouldered harpy growled back, his talons scraping against the stone with an audible screech. His wings flared fully now, a gesture of rising anger. "You're gambling all our lives on a guess. They've disappeared into the dark, and you don't find that suspicious? Not even a little? We can't just charge in there blindly because you want glory!"Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The violet-feathered harpy's sharp laugh rang out, a mocking sound that grated on the ears. "Glory? You think I care about glory? I care about finishing the fight. I care about making sure these disgusting creatures don't crawl out of that hole and ambush us later. If you're too much of a coward to fight, then stay out here and preen your feathers while the rest of us clean up this mess."

The insult hit hard. The broad-shouldered harpy's eyes darkened as he stepped forward threateningly, his muscles tensing beneath his crimson plumage. "Watch your tongue, Vyrna. Calling caution cowardice is the mark of a fool who doesn't live long enough to learn better."

The argument began to unravel into chaos.

Harpies on both sides of the disagreement flared their wings, raising their voices into a cacophony of barks, screeches, and accusations that echoed against the cave walls. Each faction dug in stubbornly, refusing to yield.

"What's the matter, afraid of the dark?!" sneered one of Vyrna's supporters, her blue-tipped feathers ruffling smugly as she jabbed a clawed finger toward the dissenters.

"Afraid of dying for no reason, you brainless idiot!" another harpy shot back, his feathers flaring red like a warning beacon. "We're warriors, not rats scurrying into traps. If you want to throw your life away, do it alone!"

"The leader gave an order! You want to question him now?"

"An order to die doesn't need to be followed!"

The leader's expression grew darker with every shouted word, his talons grinding into the rocky ground beneath him. He remained silent for as long as he could, watching his warriors tear into each other with barely restrained fury. Their wings beat violently against the air, their arguments growing louder and more volatile by the second.

Another voice rose above the din—sharp and frantic, a younger harpy with wide, uncertain eyes. "Listen to yourselves! Do you not hear it? The quiet? That's not normal. Nothing about this is normal! We're being played!"

"And what would you have us do? Fly away with our tails tucked between our legs? What happens when they regroup? When they're stronger? What happens when—"

"ENOUGH!"

The leader's roar shattered the growing chaos like a hammer against glass. The flock froze instantly, wings stilling, voices falling silent. The air grew heavy, each harpy turning to face their furious leader as he straightened to his full height. His yellow eyes burned with barely restrained rage as he swept his gaze across the group.

"You bicker like hatchlings! You screech and squawk over fears and guesses while our enemies hide within that cave! Have you forgotten who we are? Have you forgotten the shame of letting a horde of Orcs retreat right beneath our wings?"

He pointed toward the cave entrance, his talon extended like a blade.

"We are the masters of the skies! The hunters who stalk from above! Do you think we can let these filthy creatures crawl away unpunished? Do you think we can allow them to regroup, to heal, and return with vengeance tenfold?"

Some of the harpies lowered their heads in shame, their feathers wilting beneath his sharp words. But others held their ground, stubborn and uncertain.

The broad-shouldered harpy stepped forward once more, his tone respectful but firm. "Leader, we understand. But rushing into the unknown serves no purpose. We can starve them out. Wait them out. There's no need to charge into darkness where we can't fight properly. What's the hurry? Let them suffer where they cower."

The leader's eyes narrowed into slits. "And give them the time to plot? To surprise us when we least expect it? No. If they hide in the dark, then we will drag them into the light. If you're afraid to fight, step aside. The rest of us will handle this."

The murmurs began again, softer now, but still heated. The division was clear. Some harpies shuffled nervously, unwilling to voice their dissent aloud but unwilling to follow their leader into the unknown. Others flared their wings with fierce resolve, ready to march—or fly—straight into the depths of the cave.

"Fine." The leader's voice dropped to a low growl, his talons flexing once before he folded his wings tightly against his back. "Those of you who would abandon the fight, stay here. But when the rest of us return victorious, don't expect to share in the spoils. You can keep your pride and your cowardice. The real warriors will press forward."

Silence.

The group split, the tension hanging like a guillotine over their heads. Some harpies stepped back, their faces darkened by shame or frustration. The others turned their gazes toward the cave, their eyes blazing with grim determination.

And slowly, the group began to prepare for what lay ahead.