LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Chapter 271: Gift

Lyerin's eyes gleamed with a cold, knowing light as he stepped closer, his dark robes billowing slightly in the faint, otherworldly wind that seemed to course through the cavern.

He regarded the towering, newly-revived soldier for a moment, his expression inscrutable.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until at last, Lyerin spoke.

His voice was low but carried the weight of authority, each word carefully enunciated, as if savoring every syllable.

"It would seem," he began, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips, "that you've tasted one of the Stonehooves Tribe's greatest blessings."

The soldier, now towering over everyone, stared down at him, his massive chest still heaving from the aftermath of panic and confusion.

Around him, the other soldiers hung on every word, their breath caught in their throats.

No one dared to move, afraid that even the smallest sound might break whatever fragile spell had fallen over them.

"You see," Lyerin continued, his tone almost conversational, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather, "each member of the Stonehooves Tribe, whether they are permanent or temporary, is granted a singular and remarkable gift. It is a gift of life… and of death."

He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.

"In every twenty-four-hour cycle, should a member of my tribe fall—be it from the blade of an enemy, a poison coursing through their veins, a crushing blow, or even the jaws of some monstrous beast—they will be revived."

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Several of the soldiers gasped, their eyes wide with disbelief. Lyerin continued, his gaze never leaving the newly-revived soldier.

"You felt death, did you not? The cold grasp of oblivion, the fading of breath… the stilling of the heart. And yet, here you stand.

"Not as you were, but stronger. Twice as strong, twice as fast, twice as resilient. Your size is but a reflection of the power that now flows through you.

"That strength, can you feel it? Can you grasp the energy and the new you? Do you now realize what kind of human you have become?"

The newly-revived soldier swallowed hard.

His hands, still massive and unfamiliar, clenched at his sides.

He remembered the feeling of the Eldritch Crab's pincer tearing through his chest, the way his life had ebbed away.

At that time, he remembered all his memories from childhood to adulthood, and he accepted that, in that moment, he was truly dead; he had no other choice but to accept that.

A reality.

It was peaceful, yet scary, now that he was still alive and breathing.

That feeling of peace seemed to dig deep into his very soul, to the core of it, and the revived solider was somehow scared of it despite feeling at peace when he was there.

Now, standing here, every sense heightened, every nerve thrumming with newfound energy, he couldn't deny the truth of Lyerin's words.

Lyerin continued, his voice growing colder.

"This gift, however, is not without limits. It can only be used once in a twenty-four-hour period.

"One death, one resurrection. After that, if you fall again… there will be no return. You have been granted another chance at life. Use it wisely."

The cavern was silent, every ear straining to catch his words. Suddenly, Lucas, the military officer, stepped forward, his face pale but resolute.

"Are you saying," he asked, his voice rough, "that no matter how we die—whether we're torn apart by a beast or crushed by falling rubble—we'll be revived?"

Lyerin turned his gaze to him, his eyes cold and piercing. "Yes."

Another soldier, a woman with short-cropped hair and a scar across her cheek, spoke up, her voice trembling. "What if we're poisoned? If our hearts stop, if the toxins shut down our organs?"

Lyerin inclined his head slightly. "Yes, even then."

A third soldier, barely more than a boy, his face pale and eyes wide, stammered, "What about drowning? Or being burned alive? Does it work then?"

"Yes," Lyerin replied without hesitation. "Death is death, regardless of the method. The moment life leaves your body, the tribe's blessing activates. You will be brought back, renewed and more powerful than before."

The questions kept coming, each one spoken with increasing urgency.

"What if we're torn apart? Limbs severed? Organs destroyed?"

"Yes."

"And if we're buried alive? Suffocated?"

"Yes."

"What about death from extreme cold? Frozen solid?"

"Yes."

"Impaled? Decapitated?" Another soldier asked, his voice breaking.

"Yes," Lyerin replied once more, his expression unchanged. "Though it would not be pleasant."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of awe and horror. The implications of such an ability were staggering.

In this apocalyptic world, where death was a constant companion, such a gift was nothing short of miraculous. And yet, there was something chilling about the casual way Lyerin spoke of it, as if life and death were mere playthings.

Finally, a grizzled veteran, his face lined with age and battle scars, asked the question that hung on everyone's mind.

"If… if we have this power, why? Why grant it to us? We're not even permanent members of your tribe."

Lyerin's eyes glinted with something dark and dangerous.

"You serve my purpose," he said simply. "Temporary members you may be, but while you wear the mark of the Stonehooves Tribe, you are under its protection. This gift serves to make you stronger, to push you beyond your limits. For what is survival without adversity? What is strength without challenge?"

The silence that followed was deafening. The soldiers shifted uncomfortably, the weight of Lyerin's words pressing down on them like a physical force.

Lucas spoke again, his voice low and uncertain. "And… if we die again? After using this… second chance?"

Lyerin's lips curved into a cold smile. "Then you die. Truly, and without reprieve."

The gravity of the statement settled over them like a dark cloud. Experience more tales on m v|l e'-NovelBin.net

For a moment, no one spoke.

The enormity of it all was almost too much to comprehend.

The revived soldier, now towering above them, looked down at his comrades, his heart heavy. He had been granted a second chance, but at what cost?

"Do you understand now?" Lyerin asked, his voice soft but deadly. "This is the power of the tribe. The power you wield, if only for a time."

Several soldiers exchanged glances, their faces pale.

One of them—a man with sharp features and a perpetual scowl—asked, "Is this even real? Can it really be true?"

"Yes," Lyerin said. "You've seen it with your own eyes. And you will see more."

He gestured to the revived soldier, now towering above them.

"This is but one example of the power that comes with being part of my tribe. Temporary or not, you carry its mark. Use it wisely."

The soldiers fell silent, their minds racing. The possibilities, the implications, were almost too much to grasp.

The idea that they could die and come back stronger, more powerful—it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

They stared at Lyerin, a mixture of fear and awe in their eyes.

This was no ordinary leader.

This was someone who wielded life and death as tools, someone who played with forces beyond their comprehension.

And yet, Lyerin only watched, a faint smile on his lips. He had said enough. The truth was theirs to grapple with.