LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Chapter 261: Reason of coming

The silence following the ritual was thick and heavy, pressing down on the group as they stood in the cold shadow of the mountain.

The soldiers shifted uneasily, eyes flickering between each other, waiting, unsure.

Lyerin stood at the center of the blood-stained earth, his face calm and impassive as if the blood sacrifice was nothing more than a simple task completed.

He clasped his hands behind his back, casting his gaze toward the towering peak, seemingly lost in thought.

At last, Lucas, a young lieutenant from the military contingent, cleared his throat.

It was a tentative sound, barely audible above the rustling wind that whispered around them, carrying the echoes of Lyerin's chant into the distance.

Stepping forward, Lucas straightened, his hand unconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword as he regarded the chieftain with a mixture of awe and unease.

"Sir…" Lucas began, his voice respectful, almost hesitant. "If I may ask, what… what exactly did you just do here? And… why?"

Lyerin's head turned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Lucas.

There was a moment of silence, as if he were considering whether the question was worth answering

Lucas swallowed, feeling his pulse quicken. He hadn't expected Lyerin to respond.

The man was notorious for keeping his motives hidden, especially back in the survival game.

But, unexpectedly, Lyerin's lips curved into a small, amused smile. He looked directly at Lucas, his gaze sharp, almost playful.

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"Why?" he repeated, as though tasting the word.

"Well… I wanted to leave a mark here. Something enduring." He glanced back at the dark peak looming overhead, his eyes glinting with something dangerous.

"You see, beneath this mountain lies a beast… a force of nature bound by stone and shadow. When it rises, it will seek flesh, vengeance—perhaps a feast." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "And I intend to guide it."

Lucas felt his stomach drop, a cold wave of dread washing over him. He looked around and saw similar expressions on his comrades' faces—anxiety, horror, disbelief. But Lyerin continued, a strange, almost casual amusement in his tone.

"I plan to manipulate the beast," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but in the silence, it felt as though his words echoed off the very stone of the mountain.

"I'll send it to my tribe. To test them, you understand." He gave a faint chuckle, as if the thought alone entertained him. "Without adversity, they will never grow stronger. I must forge them, mold them… and for that, they need a true enemy."

Lucas blinked, feeling as though his senses had betrayed him. His mind whirled, trying to grasp what Lyerin had just revealed.

He glanced at his fellow soldiers, who wore expressions of open-mouthed shock.

He must have heard wrong.

Did Lyerin say he intended to unleash a beast upon his own people?

"But…" Lucas stammered, his mouth dry. He was almost afraid to ask, afraid of the answer. "Why would you do that?"

Lyerin sighed, his gaze lifting to the dark horizon beyond the mountain as if envisioning something far away.

"Because," he said softly, "as a leader, it is my duty to ensure that my tribe remains vigilant. To grow. To evolve. If I make them invincible from the start, they will only grow complacent. No… they need battles, adversaries, challenges worthy of their strength."

A slight smirk played on his lips as he returned his gaze to Lucas and the others. "And besides," he added with a casual shrug, "it's a little… dull, isn't it? A tribe without conflict? Where's the fun in that?"

Lucas' heart hammered against his chest, each beat drumming into his ears.

This man—this Warchief of the Stonehooves Tribe—spoke of his own people as though they were pawns on a board, pieces to be maneuvered, tested, broken if necessary.

Lucas swallowed hard, glancing at the other soldiers.

They, too, looked uneasy, shifting from foot to foot as a collective shiver seemed to creep up their spines.

The chill wasn't from the mountain air alone; it was the fear growing like ice in their veins, a nameless dread at the thought of following a leader who wielded such callous power.

Lyerin seemed to sense their unease, and his smile deepened, a glimmer of something unreadable in his gaze.

However, the truth simmered beneath his calm expression, an unspoken ambition sparking like a hidden flame.

Inside, he was already thinking of the battles to come, of his tribe rising through trials of blood and fire.

The thought alone thrilled him.

His ability to manipulate, to level his people up like pieces in a grand game, gave him endless possibilities.

The tribe would need defenders, yes—but what of attackers?

Special units for ambushes, and sensors to detect threats? He could shape them, form them into a military force of unparalleled power.

They would become a living weapon, divided into groups with distinct roles, strengths, weaknesses.

An invincible tribe would be a dull one.

No… he wanted diversity, complexity, a living web of warriors bound by loyalty and the thrill of combat.

But all this he kept hidden, letting only the faintest hint of his amusement show as he looked at Lucas and his companions, who stared at him as though he were a being from another realm—a creature from the depths of the mountain itself.

"Well," Lyerin said at last, clapping his hands together, his tone brisk, almost cheerful. "Now that we've accomplished what we came here for, there's no sense lingering. Our next destination should be far more interesting."

The soldiers' brows furrowed as they exchanged wary glances. Lucas dared to ask, his voice uncertain, "Our… next destination?"

Lyerin's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint.

"The ocean," he said simply, his voice as smooth as the wind whispering over the mountain.

"It's time we explore the depths. Imagine what mysteries await us there… and perhaps, what other adversaries we can conjure for the tribe. The deep ocean holds creatures few have seen, after all."

Lucas and the soldiers fell silent, their breaths caught in their throats.

As the dark mountain loomed behind them, casting long shadows over the blood-stained ground, Lyerin turned and began to walk, his steps sure and purposeful.

The others could only follow, hearts pounding, minds racing, as they trailed behind this chieftain of the Stonehooves Tribe, whose ambitions seemed as boundless as the very mountains and oceans themselves.

However, something in their hearts, they couldn't explain.

It's like what Lyerin did was indeed scary in their thoughts but somehow they get him.