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He paused, his eyes widening as he took in the surroundings.

"This… This isn\'t what I imagined the Ranker World would look like," he muttered in disbelief.

The horizon stretched out before him, filled with familiar tall, looming structures, eerily familiar in their design.

Skyscrapers.

Roads.

Even street lights flickered dimly overhead.

His heartbeat quickened.

What the hell? he thought, his hand tightening around his axe.

The scene before him looked too much like Earth.

Literally, like Earth.

The streets, though cracked and littered with debris, still had the markings of a city he could have walked through in his previous life.

Cars sat abandoned on the side of the road, some overturned, windows shattered. And yet, there was something off.

The people—the civilians—were running, panicked, their faces filled with terror.

They wore clothes he could have seen in any modern city: jeans, sneakers, coats, and jackets flapping wildly as they fled down the street.

However, something was different.

The fabric seemed more worn, more rugged, as if these people had been running for their lives for a long time.

Sweat poured down their faces, and fear gripped their every step.

But what were they running from?

Volk\'s eyes scanned the horizon, his breath steady even as his mind raced.

Then he saw it.

A shadow darted between the buildings—fast, predatory.

His instincts kicked in, and he spotted the creature chasing a woman, her scream echoing off the concrete walls.

The thing pursuing her wasn\'t human.

Its hulking frame moved with unnatural speed, fur bristling in the wind, its eyes gleaming yellow in the twilight.

A werewolf.

Its claws scraped the pavement with each step, sparks flying as it closed the distance between itself and the helpless woman.

Clackang! Clackackang!

Volk\'s protective instinct roared to life. His muscles tensed, and without thinking, his hand gripped his axe. His arm raised, the gleaming blade ready to be hurled through the air with deadly precision.

But then—

Ding!

A notification flashed across his vision, stopping him dead in his tracks.

| The host will gain nothing for hurting or killing fellow Dungeon Crack creatures!

| Would you like to continue? |

His body froze. His mind raced.

What? he thought, glancing between the system screen and the werewolf, which was closing in on the terrified woman.

Why?

The system\'s words lingered in his head.

He would gain nothing.

No rewards.

No boost.

Nothing from killing a fellow creature of the Dungeon Crack.

His grip on the axe tightened.

For a moment, he hesitated.

The system had rules—rules he\'d already failed once.

Failing meant growing weaker.

Failing meant being unable to protect his clan, unable to fulfill the mission.

His mind flashed to the faces of the Dreadmaw Clan. And then… to Solluha\'r.

The thought of losing strength, of becoming weak, of not being able to stand by her side—it tore at him.

But wasn\'t he an Orc now?

Shouldn\'t he act like one?

Should he care about rules when his instincts screamed at him to fight, to protect?

Plus, don\'t humans only care about themselves too?

Plus, he\'s not a human anymore, why would he care?

His thoughts swirled in chaos, but before he could make a decision, the werewolf pounced immediately, with its claws outstretched toward the woman.

No!

Without thinking, Volk moved, but he wasn\'t fast enough to stop the beast.

The werewolf\'s claws raked the air, and the woman let out a scream of pure terror.

Schink!

Before the beast could tear into her, a different sound echoed through the street. It was sharp, swift—a whistle through the air.

Thud!

Volk\'s axe struck, but not where he intended.

The blade embedded itself in the woman\'s skull, killing her instantly.

Her scream was cut short, and her body immediately fell limp to the ground.

The werewolf froze, its yellow eyes narrowing in confusion as it stared at its prey, now lifeless on the ground. And then its gaze shifted to Volk, who stood still, his chest heaving as his mind processed what he had just done.

The werewolf\'s snarl filled the air.

Grrraaahhhh!

It bared its fangs, saliva dripping from its maw.

Volk had stolen its kill, and the beast wasn\'t going to let that slide.

It charged, claws scraping against the concrete as it lunged at Volk with unbridled rage.

Volk\'s lips curled into a snarl of his own.

He didn\'t hesitate this time.

Thud!

His fist collided with the werewolf\'s face, a sickening crunch echoing in the street.

The creature\'s head snapped back with the force of the blow, but Volk wasn\'t done.

Bang!

Another punch followed, this time sending the beast crashing into the ground with a resounding thump.

The werewolf growled in defiance, trying to rise to its feet, but Volk didn\'t give it a chance. His massive hands wrapped around its throat, and with a guttural roar, he lifted the creature off the ground, slamming it back down with a bone-shattering KABANG!

The asphalt cracked beneath the weight of the impact, dust rising into the air.

The werewolf\'s body twitched, but Volk wasn\'t done yet.

He grabbed its limbs—one by one—his muscles bulging as he pulled.

Rip!

The sound of tearing flesh filled the air as Volk tore the beast apart, he could hear the sounds of its fur and skin shredding in two mangle pieces like paper.

Blood sprayed, painting the pavement red.

With one final pull, the werewolf\'s mangled body was flung to the side, landing in a heap of torn flesh and broken bones.

Volk stood over the remains, his breath coming in heavy, controlled bursts.

He wiped the blood from his knuckles, his gaze hardening as he looked around at the city.

For a moment, silence fell, broken only by the distant sounds of civilians still fleeing in the distance.

Volk looked up at the tall buildings that towered over him, their glass windows reflecting the fading light of the sky.

This place…

It\'s too much like Earth.

But he wasn\'t human anymore.

Not Earth too.

He stared at his green-skinned hands, the veins pulsing beneath the surface.

He could feel the raw power coursing through his body, the strength that had come with being an Orc.

There was no going back.

"I\'m not a human anymore," he muttered, his voice low, filled with certainty. "I\'m an Orc."

The words hung in the air as Volk turned his gaze back to the mangled remains of the werewolf.

He didn\'t feel regret for what he\'d done.

The system\'s rules didn\'t matter either.

Not when survival was at stake.

Not when the mission required strength.

Volk took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering tension.

The city around him was foreign, and nor Earth.

He had to.

The mission was still in motion, and the countdown was ticking.

His eyes narrowed, scanning the cityscape once more.

There was something bigger at play here.

Something he didn\'t yet understand. But whatever it was, he would face it head-on.

As Volk stood tall, his shadow stretching across the bloodstained pavement, the distant hum of the city grew louder.

He could feel it- more creatures lurking just beyond his sight, waiting for their chance.

With a smirk, Volk turned, gripping his axe tightly.

"I am an Orc!"