LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Lyeirn coughed, with a harsh sound that echoed through the empty buildings. His throat felt dry when he read it again, and then read it again five times, just to be sure. but he quickly composed himself, forcing the discomfort away.

There were more important things to focus on.

His gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sun struggled to break through the thick clouds. He could sense the presence of the parasitic eldritch creatures, lurking just beyond his sight, waiting for the right moment to strike.

They were drawn to humans. And Lyerin knew that his time was running out.

He could no longer level up the entire tribe, it was frustrating. "The Lack of Authority? Who made this shit up?

Lyerin clenched his fist, and just shook his head. "If I couldn't level up the tribe, then perhaps I could level up something else instead?" He mumbled. The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. He could level up his taming ability again.

It sounds like a good idea, one that promised a new form of control over the beasts of his tribe.

But as quickly as the idea came, he shook his head, dismissing it. "No, that won't work," he muttered to himself, his voice low and firm. "If I level up taming, it'll only enhance my ability to control the beasts, not the beasts themselves. They'd remain as they are, stagnant and vulnerable. And when the representatives of the families come, when the bloodbath begins, they'll notice.

They'll sense the decline in dangers in the city would show that there's someone here. Plus, if they see them, the Clan of Muscular Horses of my tribe—they'd fall short of what's needed. They'd be easy prey."

He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. "And even if my humanoid horses leveled up by killing, it would be too slow," he continued, his words barely audible, "the parasitic eldritch creatures would rise to the third Cycle peak these days because of the chemicals and drugs as long as they consume something.

While the horses of my tribe would only reach the fourth or fifth stage of the Second Cycle on my estimate only even if they kill all the Eldritch fleshers around without my ability. They'd be devoured by the drugged eldritch beasts themselves. I'd lose them. Useless... completely useless."

His thoughts raced, analyzing every possible outcome, every potential failure. His mind was a well-honed weapon, sharp and calculating. But even the sharpest blades dull over time, and Lyerin could feel the edges of his confidence starting to fray.

He couldn't risk it.

He couldn't afford to gamble with his tribe's survival.

But then, another thought emerged, cutting through the haze of doubt. "What if I leveled up myself?" The idea was so simple, so obvious, that he almost laughed at how he hadn't considered it sooner.

He looked down at his hands, rough and scarred from countless battles. He had never left the fifth stage of the Second Cycle as a Mana user, nor as an Eldren Warrior. His power had plateaued, but what if he could push beyond that? What if he could break through the barriers that held him back?

Lyerin flexed his fingers, feeling the raw energy that simmered beneath his skin. It was a risk, but it was one he was willing to take.

The more he leveled, the more Eldren Mana he could recover.

He could become stronger, faster, more capable of defending his tribe. He could turn the tide of this endless war.

But he hesitated. His calm exterior masked a whirlwind of thoughts and calculations.

Was this truly the best course of action?

Was he overlooking something crucial?

He closed his eyes, seeking clarity in the darkness behind his eyelids. His breathing slowed, each inhale and exhale measured and deliberate. He needed to be sure, absolutely sure.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. His hand shot out, reaching into the air as if grasping an invisible thread of fate. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, a slight smile curling the corner of his lips.

Without another word, he leapt from the rooftop, landing with a muffled thud on the cracked pavement below.

The city seemed to come alive around him, the silence broken by the soft patter of his footsteps and the distant, guttural growls of the eldritch creatures that roamed the streets.

The eldritch fleshers, grotesque humanoid creatures twisted by some kind of dark magic, soon came into view.

Their skin was a sickly gray, stretched tight over sinewy muscles and jagged bones. They moved with a predatory grace, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light.

Lyerin didn't hesitate.

With a single flash of motion, he drew his blade, with the steel singing through the air. He charged at the nearest creature, his body a blur of motion.

Kachak!

The blade cut through the air with a sharp whoosh, slicing cleanly through the creature's neck. Blood sprayed out in a dark arc, painting the pavement in shades of crimson.

But there was no time to revel in the victory. More fleshers swarmed toward him, their guttural roars echoing through the streets.

Lyerin spun on his heel, his blade carving a deadly path through the air. Each strike was precise, each movement calculated to maximize damage while conserving energy.

He fought with a smile on his face, the adrenaline pumping through his veins like liquid fire.

The thrill of battle, the rush of combat, it was intoxicating.

For a brief moment, he felt invincible.

But the fight wasn't over. As he dispatched an endless amount of fleshers, another wave approached, and noticed that some groups were stronger, with their bodies inked with eldritch runes that pulsed with dark energy.

These were stronger, faster, more dangerous. Lyerin knew he couldn't take them head-on, not without risking serious injury.

He glanced around, his sharp eyes searching for an escape route.

There—a building with a half-collapsed facade. He sprinted toward it, his feet pounding against the pavement. He leapt, grabbing hold of a broken window ledge and hauling himself up.

The creatures snarled below, their clawed hands scrabbling against the stone as they tried to follow.

Lyerin climbed higher, his movements quick, agile and a little rushed. He reached the roof, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts. He crouched low, scanning the streets below for any sign of the fleshers.

But he noticed, fleshers are not the only one who was chasing him, there are other eldritch horses too that aren't a part of his tribe.

They paused, with their nostrils flaring as they scented the air.

Lyerin froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He quickly smeared the gasoline from an abandoned car across his skin, masking his scent. It was an old trick, one he had learned in his past life, but it was still effective.

The horses snorted, their ears twitching as they searched for the source of the smell. But after a few tense moments, they moved on, their hooves clattering against the pavement.

Lyerin let out a slow breath, his muscles relaxing slightly. He leaned against the wall, wiping the gasoline sweat from his brow. "Didn't expect it to be this hard," he muttered to himself. "Killing three hundred fleshers just to reach the Sixth Stage of the Second Cycle... who would've thought? Maybe I got too used to my level up ability?"

He pulled a small stone from his pocket, rolling it between his fingers.

It was smooth and cool to the touch, a comforting presence in the chaos. With a quick flick of his thumb, he sent it flying through the air.

Swoosh!

The stone struck a nearby flesher in the head with a sharp crack, and its skull exploded in a spray of dark ichor.

The creature immediately crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

A soft chime sounded in Lyerin's mind, followed by a familiar notification.

| Ding!

| Mission completed.

| You have reached the Sixth Stage of the Second Cycle as an Eldren Warrior. |

He barely had time to register the achievement before another message appeared.

| Ding!

| Additional reward: You can now level up three things in the tribe every twenty-four time cycles. |

Lyerin was about to complain why only one level, but in a split second, his eyes widened in disbelief. "Three things?" he whispered, almost afraid to believe it.

He read the message again, and again, until the words were burned into his mind.

It was true.

He could now level up anything in the tribe three times.

He took a step back, his mind racing with possibilities.

What should he level up?

The tribe?

Again?

No, that was still blocked by the Lack of Authority.

Himself?

He was already doing that. But the third...

What should he level up?