LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Lord Victor's smile was cryptic, his eyes seemed to gleam with some deeper knowledge that he wasn't yet ready to reveal. "That, Lyerin," he said softly, "is a question for another time."

Lyerin's lips curled into a thin, calculating smile. "I'll accept," he said in a voice as cold as the dungeon's air, "but only if you grant me access to the second-class dungeons as well."

Lord Victor's eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, his hand absently rubbing his chin. He remained silent for a moment, deep in thought, weighing Lyerin's request.

Granting access to the second-class dungeons was no trivial matter—it was reserved for elite members of the Borgias family. But then again, Lyerin had already proved himself as more than just a pawn. He was dangerous, cunning, and undeniably resourceful.

Victor had to decide: was Lyerin more useful as an ally or a threat that needed to be eradicated?

"Alright," Lord Victor finally said, his voice casual as though he were discussing the weather. "I'll allow it."

Without missing a beat, Lyerin reached out, summoning a stream of transparent magic particles from his fingertips.

They shot forward with blinding speed, striking the Ghost Tree with a deafening PANG! The monstrous tree's ghostly face twisted and contorted in an expression of excruciating agony. Its mouth opened wide, and it let out an eerie, bone-chilling scream that echoed through the cavernous dungeon, reverberating off the walls.

"CRAAAAAAA!" The scream was a tortured wail, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of centuries of suffering. It was a scream that clawed at the minds of those who heard it, causing the dungeon's atmosphere to tremble as though the very fabric of reality was tearing apart.

The roots embedded in the mouths and ears of Lucius, Aria, Kira, and Varus quivered violently, then retreated back into the tree with grotesque speed. The four assassins, still in their trance, were abruptly released, their bodies limp as they plummeted to the ground in a heap.

Thud!

The impact was hard, but none of them stirred. Their faces were pale, their expressions frozen in silent horror, as though their minds had been left behind in the endless torment of the Ghost Tree's illusion.

Lord Victor's eyes flicked toward Lyerin, studying him with renewed interest. "That was the worst form of torture they could have ever endured," he said with a hint of amusement, though his tone was mostly indifferent. "I'll need to remove their memories of this. It wouldn't do to leave them like this. That experience could break even the strongest of minds."

Lyerin's eyes flickered with a cold, detached amusement as he watched Victor prepare the memory removal spell. "It will make them better assassins," Lyerin said with a mocking tone, though his words carried an air of harsh truth. "Consider it a lesson in resilience."

Deep down, Lyerin felt no sympathy for the four.

They had wronged him in ways that neither his past life nor this current one could forgive. For all they had done to him, both then and now, they deserved this torment and more. Yet, Lyerin sighed internally.

This was all he could do for now. He needed to play his cards right, to maintain the delicate balance between suspicion and trust. If he had refused Lord Victor's deal, the elder assassin would undoubtedly have suspected him of being a spy.

Lyerin knew Victor's personality well enough to understand that sparing the four assassins was more than just a matter of mercy—it was a test.

Had Lyerin hesitated, had he shown even the slightest trace of reluctance in agreeing to spare them, Victor would have killed him without a second thought.

The deal was not just about the lives of those four assassins—it was about whether Lyerin could convince Lord Victor that he wasn't a threat to the Borgias family.

Besides, Lyerin was certain that Lord Victor's memory removal spell wouldn't erase everything.

Some remnants of the Ghost Tree's torture would remain in their minds, lingering like shadows in the back of their consciousness. And that, in itself, was a small victory for Lyerin. He had inflicted a lasting scar on their psyches, a scar they would carry with them forever.

That alone was satisfying.

Suddenly, a sharp, ominous sound interrupted their momentary silence.

A faint hum echoed from Lord Victor's magic bracelet, the thin band glowing with a pulsating light as it alerted him to an incoming call.

Victor raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting to be disturbed. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the communication link, his expression one of lazy disinterest.

"Yes?" Lord Victor's voice was casual, almost bored. "What is it?"

The voice on the other end of the line was hurried, urgent. "My lord, someone accessed the second-class dungeon yesterday. It was registered under your name, but after further investigation, we've discovered that the coin used for entry was only authorized for lower-level dungeons."

Victor's demeanor shifted instantly.

The casual indifference melted away, replaced by a rigid tension. His body froze, his eyes widening slightly in shock. It was as if a cold breeze had swept through the room, chilling him to his very core. For a moment, he didn't move. His mind raced, processing the information he had just received.

Slowly, as if in disbelief, Lord Victor's gaze turned toward Lyerin, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You… bastard," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with both shock and fury. "Did you… did you fake the magic particles in your coin to enter the second-class dungeon?!"

Lyerin avoided Lord Victor's gaze, pretending to be preoccupied with something trivial. He whistled softly, the sound casual and innocent, as though he hadn't just been caught red-handed.

Victor's mind spun as he pieced everything together.

Lyerin's rapid rise from the peak of the Initial Cycle to the fifth stage of the Second Cycle as a mana user, the peculiar nature of his magic particle control, the sudden spike in his abilities—it all made sense now.

Lyerin had been masking his true progress, deliberately staying just below the threshold that would trigger alarms and prevent him from accessing lower-level dungeons.

It wasn't that Lyerin lacked the strength to ascend further—he was holding back, keeping himself in the lower stages so that he could continue to access the first-level dungeons.

It was a brilliant move, one that had allowed him to enter the competition where other young assassins were vying for recognition and gain advantage over them.

Victor realized with a jolt that Lyerin had planned everything meticulously.

By tampering with the magic particles in his coin, Lyerin had successfully infiltrated the second-class dungeon and stolen a march on his rivals. His sudden leap in power made sense now—he had absorbed the dungeon's mana to rapidly elevate his abilities, all while ensuring that he didn't draw too much attention to himself.

And then, by attracting Lord Victor's attention, Lyerin had created a smokescreen.

The Torture Ghost Tree, the assault on his competitors, all of it had been orchestrated to make Victor suspect that Lyerin was a spy.

In doing so, Lyerin had manipulated the situation to force Victor into making a deal with him—one that would erase any evidence of his unauthorized dungeon entry.

Victor's shock slowly turned into admiration, albeit laced with frustration. Lyerin had played him perfectly.

The young assassin had engineered the entire situation not just to win the competition, but to ensure that he would be given unrestricted access to the Borgias family's resources.

"You did all of this," Lord Victor said, his voice filled with reluctant admiration, "just for recognition? To ensure your victory in the competition and secure unlimited coins for your… tribe?"

Victor trailed off, his gaze sharpening as he studied Lyerin.

There was something deeper here, something that didn't quite add up.

Lyerin's actions were too calculated, too precise. He wasn't just after personal glory—there was a bigger purpose behind his schemes.

The tribe Victor had mentioned wasn't just a convenient excuse.

There was a hidden agenda lurking behind Lyerin's ambition, and Victor couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"What is it you're really after?" Victor asked, his voice low and intense. "You've gone to extraordinary lengths to achieve your goals. But what is it you truly seek? What is it that drives you?"

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