LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

As the early dawn light barely touched the horizon, Lyerin stood just outside the Stonehooves Tribe's territory to check the city.

The soft hum of distant wind was the only sound for miles. His brow furrowed as he glanced at the mission notification floating in his mind's eye.

Ding!

To become a level one tribe, the host must invite at least twenty hoofed creatures to the area of the Eldritch Stonehooves Tribe.

He huffed a quiet sigh of disbelief.

"Hmmm, it's really inviting again huh?" Lyerin mumbled. His gaze drifted to the abandoned city surrounding him, then back to the virtual notification.

The ruined magical world wasn't the same as this world, but he accepted that. He clenched his fists.

This world—though less familiar—was manageable. He glanced at the flickering streetlights, cracked pavement, and dilapidated structures ahead. "Not a problem but I didn't expect it to be different from the ruined magical world leveling up counterpart and it's back to level one."

The morning air carried an eerie chill, though the sun hadn't risen yet.

Just beyond his tribe's peaceful grounds lay the decaying cityscape—a stark contrast.

The city, ruined after only three days of apocalyptic decay, was littered with abandoned, broken-down cars, their metal frames rusting and screeching as the wind moved through them.

Tall, leafless trees with twisted branches swayed in unnatural rhythms, creaking like old bones.

Some buildings were crumbling, others still standing tall but battered, with shattered windows reflecting nothing but darkness. Street Lights flickered intermittently, casting unsettling shadows on the cracked streets. It was a desolate world, heavy with silence, save for the distant echoes of… something.

Lyerin shook his head and turned his attention to where the girls and Corora were probably sleeping, they were only his companions inside the tribe's shelter for now. He knew they had to stay safe. He turned sharply and headed toward them, one could hear his boots thudding heavily against the ground.

Sophia, ever watchful, was on his trail, her face pale with fear as Lyerin noticed her.

He stopped suddenly, causing her to almost stumble into him. His gaze fixed on her with intensity. "No matter what happens, don't come out. Understand?" His voice was low but firm. "Lock the door. I repeat, lock the door.

And if they wake up, don't let them leave either. Got it?"

Sophia's trembling hands fidgeted with the edge of her dress, with a barely above a whisper voice. "Okay."

To ensure her compliance, Lyerin scooped her up in his arms, her sudden gasp of surprise echoing in the quiet. Her face flushed a deep red as he carried her back to the shelter, setting her down gently at the door. He looked her dead in the eye, his tone soft but firm. "Look, Sophia. Whatever happens, you stay here. You don't let them come out.

Understand?"

She nodded quickly, her cheeks still burning with shyness, her heart racing. "Uhuhm," she managed to stammer out, nodding vigorously.

Satisfied, Lyerin turned on his heel and left, not forgetting to shut the door behind him with a soft thud. His long strides took him far from the safety of the tribe's territory. He moved with purpose, and his broad figure cut through the stillness of the city.

The shadows of the crumbling buildings and eerie trees closed in around him, like ghosts from the past.

Suddenly, a sharp, guttural sound pierced his ear.

"Grrrrhhhh…"

The noise was wet, labored, like something scraping against the back of a throat filled with fluid.

Lyerin stopped, tilting his head slightly as his sharp eyes scanned the environment.

Emerging from the shadows came the Eldritch Fleshers—humans, or what was left of them. Their once-pale skin was now veined with black, with their eyes heavy void of darkness.

Thick, inky liquid dripped steadily from their mouths, noses, and ears.

The creatures moved in a jerking, unnatural gait, and their bodies twisted and contorted by the black goo that festered within them.

"Gahhhhhh-hhhha…" Another one wheezed, its breath rattling painfully in its chest, as if fighting to escape the confines of its ruined lungs.

"Rrrrruunnnh…" A third emitted a long, drawn-out moan, echoing hauntingly in the hollow streets.

A fourth, larger than the others, gurgled a sound resembling a distorted laugh, its grotesque smile stretching unnaturally across its face. "Haaaahhh…"

Lyerin remained calm, with a single brow raising in mild amusement.

These creatures were no more than irritants to him. He lifted his arm slowly, a simple gesture, beckoning them forward. His hand moved as if time itself had slowed. "Come," he whispered softly.

The Eldritch Fleshers halted for a moment, with their grotesque forms twitching violently. Then, as though they understood, they moved toward him with a feverish hunger. Black liquid dripped from their mouths, splashing onto the cracked pavement with small, sickening splats.

"Slluurrrp…"

The first Flesher reached him and, without hesitation, bit deeply into Lyerin's outstretched hand. The sound of tearing flesh echoed sharply in the quiet dawn.

"Crunch… Riiiip."

Lyerin watched impassively as the creature's teeth sank deep into his hand, peeling away skin and muscle.

The pain was sharp but fleeting. He merely smiled as he watched the Flesher gnaw greedily at him.

Another Flesher lurched forward, but it swiped its hand across Lyerin's face. The nails were jagged, ripping at his facial skin. Making his expression shifted instantly. His calm demeanor hardened, eyes narrowing dangerously as he bit down—hard—on the creature's outstretched arm.

"Crush!"

The sound of bone and tendon snapping under his teeth reverberated loudly.

The Flesher let out a piercing, inhuman screech, stumbling backward as black liquid spewed from its wound.

Lyerin spat the mangled flesh to the ground and narrowed his eyes, phew!

his voice a low growl. "That's enough. You don't amuse me anymore."

His body began to change. His muscles became bloated pulsing with energy, looking dark and dangerous. His calm and collected aura shifted into something more menacing, more primal, more malicious, and malevolent.

The rectangular pupil in his eyes slowly transformed, deepening into a rich, violet crimson red.

The Eldritch Fleshers, sensing the shift in his atmosphere did not seem to care as they lunged at him en masse. But before they could reach him, Lyerin's transformation was completed.

"Boom!"

The sound of the explosive strange black aura goo reverberated like thunder, shaking the very ground beneath him.

The Fleshers were thrown back in all directions, with their broken bodies hitting the pavement with wet thuds, some crashing into the abandoned cars and trees with sickening cracks.

Lyerin stood there in the midst of the carnage, his appearance now completely changed. His once brown hair had turned pitch black, his skin pale as marble and veined with pulsing black lines that glowed faintly with a violent red hue.

The fur that covered his large, muscular arms was now jet black, a stark contrast to the white of his skin. He was still nine feet tall, a hulking figure of raw power, but now there was something even more sinister about him. His presence exuded an aura of danger, a violent force just waiting to be unleashed again.

He glanced around briefly, his expression indifferent.

The Eldritch Fleshers were no longer a threat as long as he still had adrenaline Mana left, even if he was bitten by them. Now, they lay strewn about the city's remains like discarded trash.

Lyerin took a deep breath, filling his lungs with a cold air.

With a final glance toward the ruins of the city, his eyes focused on something distant. "Time to catch some horses," he mumbled to himself before walking calmly into the eerie dawn, leaving nothing but wreckage.