LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Christopher Borgias' mind was spiraling in desperation, his body trembling with the searing pain shooting through his feet.

The creatures closed in on him, their monstrous forms looming over him like shadows of death, but his rage, his pride, burned brighter than the pain. He glared at the figure standing behind the creatures, the one who had been taunting him—Lyerin.

"Who are you?" Christopher shouted, his voice hoarse with agony, but filled with fury. "Who the hell do you think you are? You'll die for this! You think I'm the only one? You think I'm the last? Lucius will come for you!

Aria will find you, and when she does, you'll wish you were never born! Varus, Kira—they're stronger than me, stronger than you could ever imagine!" His voice cracked, his breathing ragged, but he couldn't stop.

The words tumbled out of him in his desperation and of defiance. "They'll tear you apart! You hear me? They'll hunt you down like the dog you are! You'll suffer—suffer more than you ever made me!"

Christopher's voice grew louder, more erratic as the creatures moved closer. "Lucius will find you, you bastard! He'll kill you without a second thought, and he'll enjoy every moment of it! Aria's shadows will haunt your every step—Varus will poison you, make you beg for death! Kira will carve you up like the piece of meat you are! They'll make sure you suffer—mark my words!

You can't escape them! No one escapes the Borgias! No one!"

But his words were futile.

The creatures descended upon him with a ferocity that left no room for mercy.

Clawed hands gripped his arms, pulling them out of their sockets. His scream echoed through the dungeon as another set of talons raked across his torso, ripping through his flesh with ease.

The pain was unimaginable, his body torn apart, piece by piece. His vision blurred, darkened, but in his final moments, he looked up—up at Lyerin, with his eyes blazing with intense hatred.

Lyerin stood there, watching impassively as the creatures ripped the little assassin of Borgias to shreds. His lips curled into a mocking smile. "You should be thankful," Lyerin said, his voice soft but cutting. "At least you won't be the ruin of your family." He chuckled, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement as the little assassin of Borgias's dying gaze remained fixed on him.

Lyerin stepped forward, his voice growing more authoritative as he spoke, addressing the corpse with an eerie calmness. "Selling out your comrades," Lyerin continued, his tone shifting to one of cold disdain, "it's the ultimate sin in the assassin's path. No assassin, no matter how skilled, no matter how powerful, survives alone.

Our strength comes from the shadows we move within, from the allies we conceal. To betray them, even in death, is to betray the very code that keeps us alive."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, even though the little assassin of Borgias was no longer there to hear them. His voice grew more intense, laced with a simmering rage beneath the calm. "The moment you sell out your comrades, you lose everything. Your name, your honor, your purpose.

It would mark the end of your career—your death would be a welcomed release compared to the suffering you would face. You think revealing their names will save you? It won't. No one would ever trust you again, even in death. You would become nothing but a tool—a pawn to be used and discarded."

Lyerin's eyes glinted with malice as he stepped closer to the remains of Christopher, speaking almost as if to himself. "And do you know why, little assassin of Borgias? Because the moment an assassin betrays his comrades, he's no longer an assassin. He's just a coward. A traitor. An enemy to those who once stood by him in the shadows.

And for that... no assassin would ever let him live."

Lyerin straightened, his expression unreadable now as he surveyed the bloodied scene. "This was your end, little assassin of Borgias Family. And it was more merciful than you deserve." He turned to leave but froze suddenly, his expression changing as a chill swept over him. His eyes went wide, and he stood stock-still, staring off into the distance as if he were seeing something that wasn't there.

"Lucius and Varus…" Lyerin muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

His mind reeled back, unearthing memories that he had tried to bury long ago. He remembered Lucius, that arrogant bastard, so full of himself and his talents. He could see him clearly in his mind—Lucius' cocky smirk, the way he always stood tall, confident, knowing that no one could touch him.

Lucius had mocked him, tormented him, believing himself untouchable because of his position in the Borgias family. But that wasn't what haunted Lyerin the most.

It was that day.

That cursed day when Lucius had ended his mother's life by the orders of the elders.

Lyerin's face twisted with rage as the memory replayed in his mind. He had been helpless, powerless, as Lucius mocked him, taunted him with every blow. "You're nothing, Lyerin," Lucius sneered. "You'll never be anything more than a slave. A pawn in this world. Your mother knew that.

That's why she was so easy to kill."

The memory burned like a brand in Lyerin's mind. His fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms as the hatred simmered inside him, boiling to the surface.

And then there was Varus.

The twisted, cruel Varus.

Lyerin could still feel the pain, the searing agony of being used as a poison tester for Varus' experiments.

Varus had enjoyed it—watching Lyerin suffer, writhing in pain, begging for the torture to end. And Varus had only laughed, mocking him, telling him that this was his fate.

That he was nothing but a test subject, a tool for Varus to refine his poisons.

Lyerin's body trembled with fury as the memories flooded back in vivid detail.

Every moment of suffering, every lash of pain, every drop of poison that had coursed through his veins came rushing back, consuming him with rage.

His face contorted, with his eyes seemed to burn with a fire that had not dimmed over the countless years.

His anger boiled over, and suddenly, Lyerin threw his head back and laughed—a loud, maniacal laugh that echoed through the dungeon, reverberating off the stone walls.

"Fortunate… fortunate that I chose this dungeon!" he cried out, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Or else, I would've had a hard time finding them! This moment… this moment is mine!" His laughter continued, wild and unrestrained, the hatred and fury inside him lessening with every word, through the fire in his eyes never wavered.

He took a deep breath, composing himself, though the manic gleam in his eyes remained. "This is the moment I've been waiting for," Lyerin whispered, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "Lucius, Varus… I'll make them pay. I'll make them suffer for every second they make me endure. And when I'm done with them… they'll beg for death, just like I did."

His laughter faded, and as he calmed, a soft ding echoed in his mind. Lyerin blinked, his focus shifting as he looked at the notification that appeared before him.

[ Ding!

[ You have completed the mission, you made your Stonehooves Tribe level up to two!

[ You have leveled up your Stonehooves Clan members 34/10 naturally. ]

Lyerin's eyes widened in delight, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. "Excellent," he murmured. "Now... now I can level up to the Second Cycle, peak twelfth stage whenever I want." His mind raced with possibilities, the thought of rising in power filling him with excitement. He could feel the energy thrumming through his veins, the power building up inside him, waiting to be unleashed.

But that wasn't all. His eyes glinted with anticipation as he thought of the Cragar'Throm Clan. "Not just me," he mused. "I can level up the Cragar'Throm Clan as well. Their power... their loyalty...

I can increase it all." The thought filled him with a heady sense of control, of power. He could bend the clan to his will, strengthen them, make them the perfect tools for his vengeance.

But then, another notification appeared before him.

[ Ding!

[ Before the host can extend the level up of anything in the Stonehooves Tribe, the host must choose an evolutionary path for the evolving Stonehooves Tribe Cragar'Throm Clan members. ]

Lyerin's excitement faltered as he read the message. His brow furrowed in thought. "An evolutionary path?" He mumbled, and then he began to contemplate, "What path should I choose for them?"

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