LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

The air in the dungeon grew heavy with tension as the four young assassins stood in silence, staring at the imposing figure of Lyerin. His oppressive aura pressed down on them like an invisible weight, making it hard to breathe.

Lucius, Aria, Kira, and Varus--all of them were skilled killers in their own right, each one trained to endure unimaginable conditions, but Lyerin was something else entirely.

The suffocating pressure radiating from him was enough to make even the most hardened warriors falter.

Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath them, and a massive hand slammed down from one of the towering Mana beasts.

Boom!

The ground cracked under the force, and the four assassins quickly leaped away in unison, retreating to the same direction, narrowly avoiding the strike.

Lyerin watched them with amusement, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the dungeon. His attention was drawn to the White Dust that lingered in the air, noticing that it had turned a sickly shade of purple. His smile deepened as he realized what had happened--the White Dust had absorbed Varus' poison magic, which had been floating in the air like a deadly mist.

That explained why Varus had been so uncharacteristically passive, his breathing labored and heavy.

The very environment they were in was working against them.

Lyerin grinned, his voice dripping with mockery. "What's the matter, Lucius?" he asked, his tone taunting. "Why so quiet? You're usually the loudest one in the room, aren't you? The arrogant, sadistic one who thrives on the pain and fear of others. I remember hearing about that one time when you beat a man to death just because he dared to speak out of turn in front of you.

Didn't you break every bone in his body? And let's not forget that incident when you gutted someone alive, just to prove a point. Where's that fire now, Lucius? Why so meek?"

Lucius' eyes burned with anger, but he said nothing. His jaw was clenched tight, his mind racing as he tried to understand who this man was. He wanted to retort, to scream back, but something about Lyerin held him in check.

It wasn't fear--it was confusion.

How did this man know so much about him?

About all of them?

Lyerin's gaze shifted to Aria, his smile widening. "And you, Aria," he said, his voice cold. "The proud Aria who once drowned a man with just a look. You didn't even have to lift a finger, did you? Your very presence was enough to terrify him to death. You've built quite the reputation, haven't you?

But where's that pride now? Why aren't you glaring daggers at me, Aria? Has your confidence faltered?"

Aria narrowed her eyes but remained silent. Her heart pounded in her chest, not out of fear, but frustration. She had no idea who this man was, but he clearly knew far more about them than they did about him. And that unsettled her.

It wasn't just his power that was overwhelming--it was the knowledge he held over them.

Every word he spoke cut deep, poking at their weaknesses, their pasts, the things they thought no one else knew.

Lyerin turned to Kira next, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, Kira. The ruthless Kira, the youngest prodigy of the Borgias family. I've heard some... interesting stories about you. Like the time you killed your own boyfriend just because he failed a mission. Cold-blooded, isn't it?

You didn't even blink, did you? No hesitation, no remorse. Just another body to dispose of. Tell me, Kira, do you ever feel anything? Or have you completely deadened yourself to the world?"

Kira's hands tightened into fists, but she remained still. Her face was a mask of indifference, but inside, she was seething.

This man knew too much. He had no right to bring up that past--no right to pry into the things she'd buried long ago. But more than that, she couldn't understand how he knew.

Who was he?

How had he gained such knowledge?

Why is he saying those stuff?

Finally, Lyerin's gaze fell on Varus, and his voice took on a more sinister edge. "And then there's you, Varus. The ever-curious poison master. You've killed more people than you can count in the name of your experiments, haven't you? To you, life is just another ingredient--something to be used, discarded, and forgotten.

I wonder... how many innocent people have you tortured and mutilated in the name of your so-called 'progress'? How many are still writhing in agony because of your poisons, their bodies slowly wasting away, trapped in a hell of your making?"

Varus didn't flinch, but Lyerin could see the faint twitch in his eyes, the subtle shift in his stance.

Even the cold and calculating Varus wasn't immune to the taunts. But none of them spoke.

None of them dared.

Lyerin laughed, the sound echoing off the walls of the dungeon. "What's the matter?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Why aren't you saying anything? Normally, I'd expect you to be full of boasts, full of bravado. But now... you're all so quiet. I thought the Borgias assassins were supposed to be fearless.

I thought you thrived on danger. But now? Now you're nothing more than frightened children, cowering in the shadows."

The four assassins huddled closer together, whispering among themselves. Their voices were low, barely audible over the oppressive silence that filled the room.

"Who is this man?" Aria whispered, her voice tense. "How does he know so much about us?"

Lucius shook his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't know. But he's strong. Stronger than anyone we've faced before. And he's in the Second Cycle. That alone should be impossible.

How did he get here?"

"That's what I don't understand," Kira muttered. "Normally, anyone who reaches the Second Cycle is barred from entering the lower dungeons. It's a rule. The dungeons are only for those in the Initial Stage. So how is he here? And why is he after us?"

Varus, ever the pragmatist, spoke quietly. "He's not just strong--he's controlling those Mana beasts like they're nothing. Beast Masters are rare, and they're usually weak themselves.

They can only tame one, maybe two beasts at a time. But him? He's controlling an entire pack of monstrous creatures. How is that even possible?"

Their whispered conversation was filled with questions, but no answers.

They couldn't recall ever encountering anyone named Lyerin in the real world. And they knew the senior members of the Borgias family well enough to know this man wasn't among them. But the fact that he knew so much about them was terrifying. It meant he'd been watching them, studying them, perhaps even for years. But for what purpose?

Meanwhile, Lyerin stood a few feet away, observing them with a faint smile on his lips. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched the four assassins huddle together, their whispered fears echoing in his ears.

Everything is going according to plan, Lyerin thought to himself, his mind cold and calculating. These four were easier to manipulate than I anticipated. I had to suppress my magical aura and drain my Mana to even get into this dungeon making me vulnerable. And in this state could attack me and I'll be helpless. But now, they're too scared to even make a move.

They could attack me together, but they're too hesitant. Too afraid. And that hesitation... is their weakness.

He glanced down at his hand, feeling the flow of some of his Mana slowly returning to him. Using my words to terrify them was enough to buy me time. Now, I've recovered enough Mana to make this interesting.

Lyerin chuckled softly to himself. He could feel his power returning, could feel the energy swimming violently through his veins once again.

It was time to end this little game. He raised his hand, a thin smile on his lips.

"Well," Lyerin said aloud, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Since none of you seem inclined to speak, I suppose this would be considered bullying. But what's the harm in that? I might as well enjoy the show."

With a casual flick of his wrist, Lyerin opened his magic ring, the faint glow of arcane symbols appearing in the air around him.

From within the ring, massive weapons began to materialize, each one perfectly suited for the Cragar'Throm Clan Mana beasts that surrounded him.

The first weapon was a colossal warhammer, its head made of blackened iron and etched with runes of power. It was perfect for the humanoid elk creature, whose massive arms flexed as it grasped the weapon in its thick, gnarled hands.

Next, a long, jagged spear appeared, its tip gleaming with a wicked, serrated edge. The humanoid ibex grabbed it eagerly, spinning it in its hands with a skill that belied its bestial appearance. Its eyes gleamed with bloodlust as it tested the weight of the weapon, preparing for the fight to come.

The third weapon was a massive, spiked club, nearly as tall as the Mountain Sheep humanoid beast itself. The creature hefted the club over its shoulder with ease, the spikes gleaming menacingly in the dim light.

Lyerin's smile widened as he watched the beasts arm themselves. "Let us begin," he said softly. It's time to shine!