LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

The forest was alive with the ambient hum of mana energy, a serene contrast to the carnage Lyerin had left behind.

His body, though still aching and battered, bore the signs of someone who had endured unimaginable trials and emerged stronger, if not completely sane.

A satchel bulged at his side, filled with the mana crystals he had harvested from his latest exploits.

Each crystal pulsed faintly, casting a soft glow that illuminated his bloodstained figure as he trudged through the dense woodland.

As he neared a crossroads, his heightened senses detected movement ahead. He paused, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the trees.

A subtle shifting of leaves betrayed the presence of others.

Soon, emerging from the shadows, a group of soldiers materialized, clad in the familiar makeshift armor of the temporary members of his new tribe.

Their weapons were drawn, but not raised—a precaution more than a threat. They stood at a distance, their eyes wary and cautious.

Lyerin halted, adjusting the strap of his satchel as he offered them a smirk. "Well, well," he said, his tone light but carrying an undertone of weariness. "What are the odds of running into you lot out here?"

The soldiers didn't immediately respond. Their eyes flickered to the satchel at his side, the faint glow of the mana crystals catching their attention.

One of them, a stocky man with a scar running down his cheek, finally spoke. "We could ask you the same thing, Lyerin." His voice was steady but tinged with tension.

"Relax," Lyerin replied, raising a hand as if to show he meant no harm. "Just passing through. On my way back to the tribe." He took a step forward, but the soldiers didn't move, maintaining the gap between them.

Another soldier, a younger woman with sharp eyes, crossed her arms. "You've been gone a while," she said. "The others were starting to wonder if you'd come back at all."

Lyerin chuckled, the sound low and almost mocking. "You know me. Always chasing something… bigger." He tapped the satchel at his side, the gesture casual but deliberate. "And wouldn't you know it, I found exactly what I was looking for."

The atmosphere crackled with an unspoken tension. The soldiers remained at their distance, their stances guarded. Lyerin, unbothered, leaned against a nearby tree, his grin unwavering.

"So," he began, tilting his head, "how's the tribe holding up? No disasters while I was away, I hope?"

The scarred soldier exchanged a glance with his companions before replying.

"They're fine. Busy, but fine. Everyone's been working hard to establish the new base for you. The walls are holding, and the statue… it's still pulsing with that strange energy."

Lyerin's grin widened. "Good. Means it's doing its job." He straightened, his tone growing more curious. "And the people? No complaints, no mutinies?"

The younger woman frowned slightly. "Why would there be complaints? We're temporary members, sure, but we know the deal. We work, we survive. It's simple."

"Simple," Lyerin echoed, nodding slowly. "Good to hear. I like simple."

Despite the casual tone of the conversation, the soldiers' unease was palpable.

They remained rooted in place, their hands hovering near their weapons.

Lyerin's reputation preceded him—his erratic behavior, his penchant for throwing himself into danger, and his near-unnatural strength were enough to unsettle even the bravest among them.

"You've been… busy," the scarred soldier said, gesturing vaguely toward Lyerin's bloodstained clothes. "Looks like you've seen more action than the rest of us combined."

Lyerin glanced down at himself, feigning surprise. "This? Oh, just a little scuffle. You should see the other guys." His grin turned sharp, almost predatory. "Or what's left of them."

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, a tall man with a spear, spoke up hesitantly. "We've heard stories, Lyerin. About the beasts you've been hunting. They say you've been going after things no one else would dare touch."

"Stories?" Lyerin repeated, his tone amused. "Is that what they're calling it now? Sounds like I've made an impression."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "They also say you're reckless. That you'll get yourself killed one day."

Lyerin laughed, the sound loud and unrestrained. "Maybe," he admitted, his voice laced with a strange kind of joy. "But what's life without a little risk? Besides," he added, his gaze locking onto hers, "I'm still standing, aren't I?"

The soldiers shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Despite their wariness, there was no denying the respect they held for him.

Lyerin's strength, his unwavering confidence, and his ability to lead—even in the most chaotic of circumstances—had earned him a begrudging admiration.

"You're heading back to the tribe, then?" the scarred soldier asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"That's the plan," Lyerin replied, pushing off the tree and adjusting his satchel. "I've got what I need, and I've had my fun. Time to put these crystals to good use."

The woman hesitated before speaking again. "And the tribe? What happens after all this… work is done?"

Lyerin's grin softened into something more thoughtful. "That," he said slowly, "depends. For now, we focus on survival. After that… who knows?"

The soldiers nodded, though their expressions remained cautious.

The conversation drew to an uneasy close. Lyerin began to move forward, but the soldiers stepped aside, maintaining their distance.

"You've done well," Lyerin said as he passed them, his tone surprisingly sincere. "Keep it up."

The scarred soldier inclined his head slightly. "We'll see you back at the base."

Lyerin didn't respond, his focus already shifting to the path ahead. As the soldiers watched him disappear into the forest, the tension lingered in the air like a storm cloud.

"He's… something else," the younger woman murmured, her voice barely audible.

The scarred soldier nodded.

And with that, they turned and made their way back, the uneasy encounter etched into their memories.

The soldiers stood clustered together, their breaths shallow as they watched Lyerin's figure fade into the dense underbrush, carrying his spoils of mana stones like trophies from a hunt.

The oppressive silence of the jungle surrounded them, broken only by the occasional call of distant beasts. Each soldier exchanged wary glances, their expressions conflicted.

"He's weak right now," one of the younger men, Donovan, whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands gripped his weapon tightly, knuckles white.

"Look at him… limping. We've seen how insane he is when he's full strength. If we wait any longer, we might not get another chance."

A seasoned soldier, Theran, narrowed his eyes, still staring in the direction Lyerin had disappeared. "You think he's weak?" he hissed.

"That's what he wants you to think. Have you not seen what he's done? Half of the creatures we couldn't even dream of facing were slaughtered by his bare hands! And you think a little exhaustion makes him vulnerable?"

Another soldier, Miriam, frowned, her voice trembling but resolute.

"Theran's right. Lyerin isn't just strong—he's cunning. You've seen how he plays with those beasts, how he lures them. What if this is a trap? What if he wants us to follow him so he can pick us off one by one?"

Donovan shook his head fiercely. "No. This isn't a trap. He's alone.

He didn't even notice us watching him. He's distracted—probably thinking about those damn mana stones.

If we don't act now, we'll lose the best opportunity we've had since we joined this so-called tribe!"

"But why now?" another soldier, Mikhail, asked cautiously. He seemed hesitant, his voice uncertain. "Why not wait until we're all rested and regrouped? Why take the risk when we don't know what state he's really in?"

"Because!" Donovan snapped, his frustration boiling over. "Every second we wait, he gets closer to the tribe. If he's dangerous here, imagine what he could do if we let him get stronger! He's a monster. And if we don't stop him, we'll be next on his list of prey."

Theran's lips curled in a grimace. "You think he doesn't know we've been tailing him? He's not stupid. He's playing a game with us. Lyerin isn't like the beasts he hunts—he's far worse. And if we fail to kill him..." His voice trailed off, and his jaw clenched tightly.

Miriam nodded slowly, though her expression betrayed her fear. "If we let him live, we're gambling with everyone's lives. Do you think he'll just let us walk away when he's done with us? Once he decides we're of no use, we're as good as dead."

"But what if he's not our enemy?" Mikhail interjected, though his voice lacked conviction. "I mean... he's kept us alive so far, hasn't he? He's fought those beasts, led us to safe zones, and protected us when things got rough. Maybe we don't understand him, but what if he's just—"

"A lunatic," Donovan cut him off sharply. "He's a lunatic, Mikhail. Don't let his acts fool you. He didn't save us out of kindness. He did it because we're his tools. Tools he'll toss aside the moment he finds something better—or if he just gets bored."

Theran grunted in agreement. "I've seen men like him before. They think they're gods, untouchable. But every god has a weakness. We just have to find his and exploit it."

Miriam's voice softened, almost pleading. "But what if we're wrong? What if attacking him only makes things worse for us? What if—"

"Enough!" Donovan barked, cutting through the rising tension. He turned to face the others fully, his expression set with grim determination. "We can sit here all day debating the what-ifs, but every moment we waste is another moment he gets further away. I say we follow him. We corner him. And we end this madness before it's too late."

The group fell into a tense silence, the weight of the decision hanging heavily over them. Finally, Theran exhaled deeply, his hand tightening around his weapon. "If we do this, we do it together. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Agreed?"

One by one, the soldiers nodded, their faces pale but resolute.

"Let's do it," Donovan said, his voice low and steady.

"Let's do it," Miriam echoed, though her hands trembled.

The rest of the group murmured their agreement, their voices blending into a unified resolve. They adjusted their weapons, steeling themselves for what lay ahead.

And as they stepped into the jungle, following the faint traces of Lyerin's trail, the oppressive silence of the forest seemed to deepen, as if the world itself held its breath.