LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Lyerin's feet finally touched the solid ground of the sanctuary, and the relief that washed over him was almost palpable.

The journey had been long and arduous, filled with danger and darkness that still clung to him like a shadow. But now, standing in the safety of the sanctuary, surrounded by familiar faces, he allowed himself to relax—if only for a moment.

Corora was the first to approach him, her eyes filled with concern as she looked him over. "You're back," she said softly, her voice a mix of relief and worry. "Were there any problems?"

Lyerin shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Nothing I couldn't handle," he replied, trying to downplay the weight of the horrors he had faced. He didn't want to burden her with the details of what he had seen, what he had done. "I need you and the others to stay here, take care of the supplies. Don't come to the ruined magical world.

It's too dangerous for now, I'm going to do something…"

Corora's expression softened, and she nodded in understanding. "Of course," she said, her voice steady. "We'll be fine here." Then, without warning, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss.

The warmth of her touch, the gentle pressure of her lips, it all reminded him that despite the chaos of the world, there were still moments of peace, moments worth fighting for.

When the kiss ended, Lyerin gave her a reassuring nod before turning away, his mind already shifting back to the task at hand. He knew he couldn't stay long, not with so much left to do. He needed to return to the ruined magical world and finish what he had started.

The journey back was swift, and before long, Lyerin found himself standing in the bustling markets within the Rose Kingdom.

The marketplace was a strange sight, filled with a chaotic blend of the mundane and the magical.

Stalls were lined with everything from enchanted trinkets to rare magical ingredients, and the air was thick with the scents of exotic spices and the hum of low conversations.

Lyerin moved through the market with purpose, his eyes scanning the wares with the practiced ease of someone who knew exactly what he was looking for. He purchased supplies—food, weapons, magical items—anything that would be of use to his tribe.

As he moved from stall to stall, he could feel the weight of the coin Lord Victor had given him, a small but powerful token that granted him access to resources beyond what most could imagine.

When his bags were full and his coin purse lighter, Lyerin made his way to a nearby teleporter.

The device was ancient, its surface covered in runes that glowed faintly with arcane energy.

The operator, a wizened old man with eyes that seemed to see through the veil of reality itself, eyed Lyerin with mild curiosity but said nothing as Lyerin showed the coin.

With a nod, the old man activated the teleporter, and in a flash of light, Lyerin was transported to the outskirts of the mountain where his tribe resided.

The mountain was quiet, save for the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds. Lyerin took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs as he began to trace the perimeter of his territory.

He moved with the silent grace of a predator, his senses alert for any sign of danger.

The land was vast and wild, but it was his—every tree, every rock, every blade of grass was part of the territory he had claimed.

Satisfied that there were no immediate threats, Lyerin returned to the center of his territory, where he had already begun preparations for the next phase of his plan.

From his magic space ring, he pulled out an array of items: ritualistic tools, enchanted stones, and finally, a large, intricately carved statue.

The statue depicted a horned creature, its features both majestic and terrifying, a perfect representation of the power and mystery that Lyerin sought to embody in his tribe.

Lyerin set the statue down in the center of a carefully drawn circle, its placement precise and deliberate. Then, taking a deep breath, he began to chant, his voice low and resonant.

The words that flowed from his lips were ancient, their meaning lost to time but their power unmistakable.

"Viloran tas eviara,

Morgis te draenor,

Kyrius nos falren,

Enathar me varon."

The chant echoed through the air, each word pulsing with energy that seemed to vibrate through the very ground beneath him.

Lyerin continued, his voice growing stronger, as if the ancient words were rolling smoothly off his tongue with practiced ease.

"Tyran vas morloren,

Sevria lun estoran,

Kelorae no moritan,

Virel nos tharn."

As the final words left his lips, the ground beneath the statue trembled, and with a low rumble, the statue began to rise.

It was as if the earth itself was responding to the ancient magic, lifting the statue until it stood tall and proud, a symbol of the territory Lyerin had claimed.

The creature's horned visage stared out over the land, its presence both awe-inspiring and ominous.

Lyerin stepped back, his chest heaving with the exertion of the ritual. He could feel the magic settling around him, solidifying the bond between himself and the land.

This was his territory, his tribe, and now, with the statue in place, it was marked as such for all to see.

Suddenly, a familiar chime echoed in his mind, followed by a system notification that appeared before his eyes.

[ Ding!

[ Would you like to level the Stonehooves tribe? ]

Lyerin didn't hesitate. He nodded, and the notification shifted, displaying a new message.

[ Simple Mission:

[ Invite at least twenty horned creatures and make them stay around the territory for two minutes. ]

A laugh bubbled up from Lyerin's throat, a sound of genuine amusement.

"This is easy…"

He had expected something like this, and he was more than prepared.

Reaching into his magic space ring once more, Lyerin pulled out a small bottle. The glass vial was unassuming, but the liquid inside shimmered with a strange, iridescent light.

He tossed the bottle into the air, and with a flick of his wrist, released a pulse of magic.

The aura that erupted from his hand was invisible to the naked eye but powerful enough to amplify the effects of the liquid. As the magic made contact with the bottle, it exploded with a thunderous

Kaboom!

The shockwave that followed was immense, rippling through the air and shaking the very ground.

A thick, slimy smell wafted through the air, a scent that was both nauseating and strangely enticing.

Lyerin stood still, his senses on high alert as he waited.

At first, there was nothing but silence.

Then, from somewhere in the distance, he heard it—a faint rumble, the sound of hooves pounding the earth.

It was quiet at first, barely audible, but it grew louder with each passing second.

The ground beneath him began to vibrate, the sound of countless hooves thundering towards him.

Rubble! Rubble!

Lyerin's heart pounded in his chest as the rumbling grew into a deafening roar.

"Come! Come! My Stonehooves Tribe!"

He would shout in glee!

The trees around him shook, leaves falling like rain as the sound of the approaching beasts filled the air. And then, emerging from the shadows of the forest, they came—horned creatures, their eyes glowing with a fierce, red light.

They charged towards him, with their bodies massive and powerful, and their hooves tearing up the earth as they ran.

Lyerin stood his ground, his heart racing but his mind calm. He watched as the creatures drew closer, their eyes locked on him with a mixture of anger and hunger.

The first of the beasts reached the edge of the territory and stopped, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air.

It was followed by another, and another, until a small herd of the horned creatures stood before him, their red eyes glowing in the dim light.

They were angry, their breaths coming in ragged, heavy pants as they glared at him, but they did not cross the boundary.

They could feel the magic in the air, the power that Lyerin had infused into the land.

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