LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

The atmosphere in the camp shifted the moment Lyerin made his decree.

The soldiers, desperate to return to Earth, hung on his every word, their hopes reignited, albeit with a flicker of apprehension.

Lyerin, standing at the center of the gathering, crossed his arms over his chest and let a faint smirk play on his lips. His crimson eyes gleamed with an unspoken challenge.

"You want to use the portal?" he said, his voice smooth and commanding, cutting through the nervous murmurs of the crowd.

"Then you must prove yourselves. Bring me mana beast cores, strong ones, and only then will I consider letting you through."

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of his words sinking in.

Mana beasts were dangerous creatures, and while they had hunted before, they had always done so in tightly coordinated groups, their efforts focused on survival.

This, however, felt different. It felt like a test—a cruel, calculated test designed to weed out the weak.

"How many cores do you need?" one soldier asked hesitantly.

Lyerin's smirk widened. "As many as you can carry," he said, his tone laced with amusement. "But the quality matters more than the quantity. Bring me something… impressive."

The soldiers bristled under the implied insult, but no one dared to argue.

Instead, they dispersed, gathering their weapons and supplies before venturing into the surrounding forest.

Their determination was palpable, their movements fueled by the singular goal of returning to Earth. Yet, even as they set off, Donovan, Theran, Miriam, and Mikhail lingered at the edge of the camp, their eyes locked on Lyerin.

Donovan's jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. He didn't need to say it aloud—he knew what the others were thinking.

Lyerin had likely wiped out the mana beasts around the tribe.

It was the kind of manipulative move that was entirely in character for him, a way to toy with them, to watch them struggle and fail.

Yet, the thought of confronting him, of accusing him in front of the soldiers, sent a shiver of fear down Donovan's spine.

They couldn't risk it. Not when Lyerin held the power to expose their identities as Borgias Family members.

"We'll play his game for now," Donovan muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.

The others nodded reluctantly, their expressions grim. They knew they had no choice.

The soldiers scattered into the forest, their footsteps crunching against the underbrush, their breaths fogging in the cool air.

At first, the hunt seemed promising.

Tracks and claw marks suggested recent activity, and some even found tufts of fur or snapped branches that hinted at nearby mana beasts.

Yet, as the hours stretched on, their optimism began to wane. Your next read awaits at empire

One by one, they returned to camp, their expressions heavy with frustration and exhaustion.

Some carried broken weapons, others bore fresh scratches and bruises, but none had succeeded in their hunt.

The forest was eerily devoid of life, as if the mana beasts had vanished overnight.

Theran stumbled back into the clearing, his axe slung over his shoulder, his face flushed with irritation.

"Nothing," he growled, tossing the weapon to the ground. "Not even a rabbit, let alone a mana beast."

Miriam emerged moments later, her bow clutched tightly in her hands. "Same here," she said, shaking her head.

"I tracked a trail for nearly an hour, only for it to disappear without a trace. It's like the beasts know we're hunting them."

The murmurs of frustration grew louder as more soldiers returned, each recounting similar experiences.

Some speculated that the beasts had migrated, driven away by the recent activity in the forest.

Others whispered darker theories, their voices hushed with fear.

Perhaps the mana beasts had been eradicated, wiped out by some unseen force.

Donovan, standing near the edge of the camp, exchanged a glance with Mikhail. They both knew better. This wasn't a coincidence. This was Lyerin's doing.

"He's playing with us," Mikhail muttered, his voice low. "He's already killed the beasts, hasn't he?"

Donovan nodded grimly. "Probably," he said. "But we can't say anything. Not here. Not in front of them."

His gaze shifted to the other soldiers, who were growing increasingly restless.

If they found out that Borgias Family members were among them, their anger would be explosive.

Lyerin had crafted the perfect trap, forcing them into silence while the others were left to struggle and despair.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the camp, the soldiers gathered around the central fire, their voices a mix of anger and confusion.

"This isn't normal," one soldier said, his voice tinged with frustration. "There should be beasts out there. We've hunted in these woods before."

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong places," another suggested, though her tone lacked conviction.

"Or maybe someone's playing games with us," a third muttered darkly, his eyes flicking toward Lyerin's tent.

The tension in the camp was palpable, the air thick with unspoken accusations.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Yet, no one dared to voice their suspicions openly.

They knew better than to challenge Lyerin directly. His power, his cunning, and his reputation as a merciless manipulator were enough to keep them in check.

Later that evening, as the fire crackled and the soldiers nursed their bruised egos, Lyerin emerged from his tent.

His crimson eyes swept over the group, his expression calm, almost amused.

"Well?" he said, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade. "Have you brought me what I asked for?"

The silence that followed was deafening. No one dared to meet his gaze. One by one, they lowered their heads, their shame and frustration laid bare.

"No cores?" Lyerin said, his tone light, almost teasing. "How disappointing."

Donovan clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

He wanted to shout, to accuse Lyerin of sabotaging the hunt, but he knew better. Instead, he forced himself to remain silent, his jaw tight with suppressed anger.

Lyerin's gaze lingered on him for a moment, a faint smirk playing on his lips as if he could sense Donovan's thoughts.

Then, he turned to address the rest of the soldiers.

"Perhaps you need more time," he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "Or perhaps you're not as skilled as you thought. Either way, the portal remains closed until you fulfill your end of the bargain."

With that, he turned and strode back to his tent, leaving the soldiers to stew in their frustration.

Donovan and the others exchanged a tense glance, their unspoken agreement clear: they would play along for now, but they couldn't trust Lyerin. Not when he held all the cards.