LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

As he reopened his eyes, his aura began to manifest, a faint glimmer at first, hovering like a thin mist around him.

The atmosphere changed subtly, as if the very ground beneath him was responding to his energy.

The aura started to swell, undulating with a rhythmic pulse.

Then, in a sudden surge, his power erupted, flooding the space with his energy.

It was raw and unrefined, yet intense, carrying a unique mix of unpredictability and strength.

One of the six warriors, the silver-haired man, crossed his arms and let out a faint scoff. "It's lacking focus," he muttered. "Powerful, sure, but undisciplined. Like a blunt blade."

The woman with violet eyes tilted her head, a mocking smile twisting her lips.

"I've seen raw talent before, but this... it's as though he's holding back. Or maybe he's simply not aware of the depth of his own power."

The man with the bone-chilling aura gave a small, nearly imperceptible nod.

"He's strong, yes. But it's like watching a caged storm, more fury than finesse. Untrained, and that will be his downfall if he's not careful."

The bronze-skinned man let out a low chuckle, flexing his muscular arms.

"Strength is there, I'll give him that. But without precision, he's like a hammer where a scalpel is needed. He would be impressive if he learned to control it."

The spectral figure, eyes narrowing with mild disdain, murmured, "There's something…off about his energy. It's almost normal, yet there's an underlying current that warns me to keep my distance. I've never sensed anything like it—mysterious, and honestly, unsettling."

Finally, the older, regal man raised an eyebrow, lips pressed into a thin line.

"It's true, he's at the third cycle of Eldren Mana, middle stage, but it's puzzling. I can sense restraint within him, something holding him back. Whether it's intentional or not, I don't know. But one thing's certain: he's no ordinary warrior."

The six exchanged silent glances, each nodding as though coming to a mutual understanding.

One of them stepped forward, his gaze locking with Lyerin's as he assessed the young chief.

After a brief silence, he nodded slowly and said, "It appears you're telling the truth. You're in the third cycle, middle stage. Not an easy feat… but you still have much to learn."

The atmosphere between Lyerin and the six newcomers was tense, each figure radiating their own intensity.

Lyerin narrowed his gaze, holding his position with an unnerving calm, though an undercurrent of frustration simmered just below his stony expression.

His patience waned with each word spoken, each skeptic tone tossed his way by those who dared to question his authority.

One of the six, a man with a harsh sneer, finally broke the silence. "You really think you're some kind of... leader, don't you?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, every word laced with disbelief and barely contained hostility. "After all, who are you? A lucky player from a survival game? A pretender?"

Lyerin's eyes darkened, but he maintained his composure.

"I am here to make a deal with you. Not to be judged on my 'aura,'" he replied calmly, letting his words sink in with chilling clarity.

"You're here because you need an out, aren't you? Not to quibble over the details of my accomplishments."

The man scoffed, ignoring Lyerin's words. "Oh, and look at this arrogance! As if he's some kind of... grandmaster over us."

He sneered at Lyerin, his tone drenched with scorn.

"As if we'd really let you—of all people—tell us what to do. I mean, do you even understand the first thing about commanding an actual force, not a ragtag group of wannabes?"

Lyerin's eyes glinted, though his voice remained soft. "Careful," he replied, his tone icy.

"You're not in a position to lecture me on leadership. And I assure you, my 'group' is anything but ragtag. But feel free to underestimate us. That mistake could be... educational for you."

But the man continued, his voice rising as his frustration and sarcasm poured out unchecked.

"Educational?" He scoffed, throwing his hands up. "Oh, so what, you'll teach us with your... What magical minotaur skills? Your 'tribe'? Please. You think we're all just pawns for you to move around, don't you?"

Lyerin gave him a pointed look. "You're here because you're running from something, or am I mistaken?"

His calm was relentless, his demeanor unshakable.

"It's either align with me, for your own survival, or face the consequences that are inevitably coming your way."

The sneering man's expression twisted, and he was about to retort again when one of the other six placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Enough," he said with quiet authority, eyeing Lyerin cautiously.

"You remember who this is, don't you?" He leaned forward, voice dropping. "Lyerin Stonehooves. The one who decimated his opponents in the survival game with that... minotaur power. You've heard the stories. It wasn't just him; it was his entire tribe."

Silence fell as the others shifted, exchanging uneasy glances.

The sneering man's demeanor faltered slightly, the memory of Lyerin's reputation finally giving him pause.

Lyerin allowed a faint smirk to tug at the corner of his lips, savoring the shift in atmosphere.

Does this guy want to be decimated too?

Although, Lyerin was much weak, the spirit of his tribe was already level four.

He won't even fear them if he was weaker, what more if he's stronger?

After a moment, another figure, a woman with steely eyes, spoke up, attempting to shift the conversation to safer ground.

"So... what would we need to do, then? To temporarily join your tribe, I mean. You mentioned a ritual. Is it some kind of... oath? Or... are we bound by a spell? What exactly would be required of us?"

Lyerin's gaze fixed on her, calm but piercing. "It's a ritual, yes, but it's not enslavement. This is a mutual alliance. We don't bind people against their will."

The others, seemingly reassured by his tone, began to pepper him with questions, their uncertainty still evident. "But what exactly is this ritual?" one of them asked, folding his arms skeptically.

"Are we tied to you, somehow?" another pressed, his voice suspicious. "How do we know you won't just control us like puppets?"

"What are the risks?" asked a third, her eyes narrowed. "You say it's temporary, but is there a way for you to enforce this against us if we refuse to comply later?"

Lyerin met each question with his steely gaze, allowing the barrage of inquiries to wash over him. A fourth one spoke up, "If we become part of your tribe, can you guarantee we'll still retain our freedoms?"

"And what of our own allegiances?" another chimed in, glancing warily at his comrades. "We have other loyalties. Other alliances. How do we know this won't interfere with them?"

A sixth voice, quieter but equally apprehensive, finally asked, "Can you truly protect us from the families?"

Lyerin's patience stretched thin, and the faintest edge of irritation crept into his expression. He glanced at the six, a bemused smile twisting his lips as he let out a dry chuckle.

"Do you all know the oath?" he asked, voice low but resonant, as if daring any one of them to back down. The group fell silent.

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