LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

After scattering the tires around the sanctuary, Lyerin stood back and surveyed his work.

The charred rubber still hissed and crackled, releasing tendrils of smoke that curled up into the air.

The sanctuary—a dilapidated, abandoned warehouse—offered little in terms of comfort, but it was the safest place he could find for Corora and the girls.

Lyerin wiped the sweat from his brow, the gritty dirt on his hands smearing across his skin.

The task had been grueling, but necessary.

He glanced at Corora, who sat huddled with the other girls in a corner of the sanctuary.

Their faces were pale, eyes wide with fear and exhaustion.

Lyerin forced a smile, masking the gnawing worry that festered inside him. He wasn't strong enough. Not yet. And Corora—she was too weak to be of any use now. But he couldn't let her see that. She needed hope, not the harsh reality.

"Stay here," Lyerin said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I'll gather supplies first. Make sure you're all safe." He lingered for a moment, holding Corora's gaze, trying to convey a confidence he didn't fully feel. Then, with a final nod, he turned and slipped out into the night.

The city had transformed into a hellscape, a shadow of its former self. Lyerin moved through the darkness with the agility of a predator.

The city loomed around his head, like a twisted version of London's once-vibrant streets. Now, the skyline was jagged, buildings cracked and crumbling, as if the very bones of the city were breaking.

As he moved, Lyerin's senses were on high alert. He could hear the distant groans and snarls of Eldren flesh eaters—mutated humans and horses that had become monstrous in their hunger. He knew they were out there, lurking in the shadows, their grotesque forms twisted by the apocalypse.

Every step he took was calculated, each movement precise, avoiding their paths without ever laying eyes on them.

The knowledge of their presence was enough.

The stench of decay, the eerie silence that followed in their wake, the sound of claws scraping against the pavement—it all painted a vivid picture of the horrors that roamed these streets.

Lyerin's mind raced as he navigated the city, moving swiftly through the streets that had once been filled with life.

Now, the tall structures, reminiscent of London's iconic skyline, stood like broken teeth jutting out of the earth.

Some leans precariously, others had crumbled completely, leaving piles of rubble that blocked roads and alleyways.

Lyerin closed his eyes, taking in the sounds and smells of the city.

The memories of his past life as a slave flooded back, unbidden. He had been used as a resource tracker, forced to find food and supplies for his captors.

It was a skill ingrained in him, one he despised. But now, it was a skill he had to rely on. If he was to build his tribe in the real world, he needed to find resources.

"Food…" Lyerin murmured to himself, his mind sifting through the city's layout. His past life had given him an intimate knowledge of places where supplies could be hidden. But most of those places would be overrun by now. "Supermarkets… No, too obvious. Too many Eldren there by now. The train station… No, too exposed.

The underground market… Possible, but it's likely already raided."

He shook his head, dismissing each option in turn. Every place he thought of was likely teeming with mutated Eldren, their hunger driving them to prowl areas that once served as lifelines for the city's inhabitants.

Lyerin clenched his jaw, frustration building. He couldn't afford to waste time on dead ends.

Suddenly, a thought struck him.

There was one place—one hidden from the masses, a place that even during the early days of the apocalypse had remained relatively untouched.

It was a small, nondescript storage facility, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the city. It was hidden beneath an old department store, its entrance concealed by years of neglect and overgrowth. Hardly anyone knew it existed. And those who did were long gone.

Lyerin's eyes snapped open. "The old department store," he whispered. "It's the only place."

With renewed determination, he moved through the shadows.

The streets were a maze of destruction, but Lyerin's instincts guided him, keeping him one step ahead of the Eldren that stalked the night. He avoided the main roads, slipping through narrow alleys and scaling walls where the debris was too thick to pass.

When he finally reached the department store, he paused, taking in the sight before him.

The building was decrepit, its once grand facade now crumbling, vines creeping up its walls like skeletal fingers.

The entrance was partially blocked by fallen stone and twisted metal, but Lyerin knew where to look.

He circled around to the back, where a small door was hidden beneath a layer of grime and overgrown ivy. He pried it open, slipping inside with practiced ease.

The air was musty, thick with the scent of decay and mildew.

The darkness was oppressive, but Lyerin's eyes adjusted quickly.

He moved through the store, his footsteps silent on the cracked marble floors.

The storage facility was hidden in the basement, accessible only by a narrow staircase tucked behind a display case. Lyerin pulled the case aside, revealing the entrance. He hesitated for a moment, listening for any sounds that might indicate the presence of others. But all he heard was the faint creaking of the old building settling around him.

He descended the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest.

When he reached the bottom, he was met with a surprising sight.

The storage room was filled with people—at least fifty of them.

They were huddled together, a mixture of women, children, and a few men who seemed to be acting as protectors. The room was dimly lit, the flickering light casting long shadows across the walls.

Lyerin pressed himself against the wall, staying hidden in the shadows. He watched as the group argued amongst themselves, their voices low and tense.

"We can't keep feeding everyone," one of the men said, his voice gruff. "We're running out of supplies. We need to start making some hard decisions."

"Are you suggesting we abandon the women and children?" a woman snapped, her tone incredulous.

"It's the only way we'll survive," the man replied coldly. "They're dragging us down. If we get rid of the dead weight, our chances of making it out alive go up—maybe from one percent to five. But if we keep feeding mouths that can't fight, we're all dead."

The others murmured in agreement, their faces grim. Lyerin understood their logic, as cruel as it was. In a world like this, survival often meant making impossible choices. But now that he was here, he had a decision to make.

Should he try to save them?

Could they be useful to him in his quest to build a new tribe in this real world?

Lyerin's eyes narrowed as he focused on the male protectors.

They were rough-looking, as if hardened by the early trials of the apocalypse. But they weren't particularly strong or skilled, at least not in the way Lyerin needed.

They might be more trouble than they were worth.

Perhaps… removing some of them wouldn't be such a bad idea.

With that thought in mind, Lyerin stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself to the group.

The sudden movement drew the attention of the male protectors, who immediately pointed their guns at him, their faces filled with suspicion.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them barked, his finger hovering over the trigger.

Lyerin raised his hands in a gesture of peace, though his eyes remained cold and calculating. "I'm here to save you," he said simply, his voice steady.

The men exchanged glances, and then burst into laughter. "Save us?" one of them scoffed. "You think you can save us? Look at you—you're just one guy!"

Lyerin didn't flinch at the insult. Instead, he took a step closer, with his eyes locking onto theirs with an intensity that silenced their laughter. "You can either join me," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "or you can die here, alone and forgotten. The choice is yours."

The room fell into a tense silence, the protectors' laughter dying in their throats as they considered his words.

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