LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Chapter 278: Allocation

The relief that washed over the chamber was short-lived.

Just as the soldiers began to steady their breaths and wipe sweat from their brows, the air shifted again. It thickened, darkened.

Shadows along the ancient stone walls began to writhe and twist like living things.

Their shapes were formless at first, but then, one by one, they peeled away from the walls.

The first ghostly wisp darted toward a soldier near the edge of the group.

He barely had time to raise his arms in defense before it plunged straight into his chest.

He screamed, a bone-rattling cry that sent the others staggering backward.

"What is happening?!"

"More of them! They're everywhere!"

"Keep them away!"

Panic erupted like a wildfire, each soldier's fear feeding off the next.

More shadows broke free, swirling around the chamber in a malevolent dance.

They lashed out, sinking into the bodies of the nearest soldiers.

Limbs thrashed, eyes rolled back, and gasps of pain echoed off the stone walls. It was chaos.

"Get it out! Get it out!" one man shrieked, clawing at his own chest as if trying to rip the darkness from within.

Another soldier stumbled, falling hard onto his knees.

His fingers dug into the stone, leaving bloodied trails as the dark tendrils took hold.

"Help me!" a young recruit cried, his voice raw.

He reached for his comrade, but the man beside him was already writhing, consumed by his own battle.

"Fall back!" shouted Lucas, trying desperately to rally them. "Group together! Don't let them separate us!"

His words barely penetrated the clamor.

The shadows were relentless.

They moved with a terrible, predatory grace, choosing their targets with precision.

Another soldier collapsed, his body contorting as darkness spilled from his eyes and mouth.

It was as if each shadow sought to break its host from the inside out.

"No! Get out of me!" yelled a burly man, his hands clawing at his throat as if he were choking on the dark smoke filling him.

He collapsed, shuddering violently. "I won't...be...taken..."

"Stay together!" someone else screamed. "Don't let them—"

The soldier's words were cut off as a shadow plunged into him, silencing him instantly.

The chamber became a cacophony of screams, shouts, and desperate prayers.

Weapons clattered to the ground, forgotten.

Boots scraped against stone as men tried to back away, only to find themselves cornered.

One soldier, eyes wide with terror, lunged at a dark wisp barreling toward him.

He swung his sword, the blade slicing through nothing but air. "It's no use! You can't fight them!"

The soldiers' eyes darted around, seeking any kind of refuge, but there was none.

The shadows seemed infinite, a tidal wave of darkness that would not be stopped.

For a fleeting moment, despair gripped them all.

But then they turned to Lyerin.

Standing amidst the chaos, the leader of the Stonehooves Tribe was a stark contrast to the pandemonium around him.

Where the soldiers flailed and panicked, he was calm—too calm. His eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

As a shadow lunged for him, he raised a hand, and with a flick of his wrist, he cast it aside.

The dark form shrieked, dissipating like smoke in the wind.

Another shadow came, and Lyerin stepped forward, slicing through it with nothing but his presence.

The darkness recoiled.

He moved with the grace of a predator, each motion calculated, each strike precise.

Shadows that approached him found themselves repelled, torn apart by an unseen force.

"Focus!" he barked, his voice carrying over the din. "Do not let fear consume you!"

But the soldiers were too far gone. Read latest stories on m_v-l'e|-NovelBin.net

One by one, they were being taken.

Dark tendrils snaked around them, slipping into their skin.

Each man became a battlefield of light and darkness, their bodies twisted by the struggle within.

"Hold on!" shouted Lucas, his voice cracking as he tried to rally what few remained untouched.

"Fight it! Don't let them—" He was cut off as a shadow lunged at him. He dodged, barely, but the darkness swirled back, relentless.

"Chief Lyerin!" someone screamed, desperation thick in his voice. "We can't...we can't hold them!"

Lyerin's eyes flashed with something akin to irritation. "Weakness," he muttered under his breath. "You let your fear control you."

A shadow lunged at him, and he caught it mid-air, crushing it with an audible crack.

Black mist leaked from between his fingers before vanishing.

He turned, his gaze sweeping over the chaos, and for a moment, he seemed almost disappointed.

Another shadow lunged for him.

This one was faster, more determined.

It clawed at his chest, trying to find purchase.

Lyerin's face darkened, and with a low growl, he unleashed a burst of energy.

The shadow evaporated instantly, shrieking as it went.

"Pathetic creatures," he spat, his voice low and cold.

But for the soldiers, there was no respite. Another wave of shadows poured forth from the walls, relentless and hungry.

One by one, the remaining men were taken, their screams echoing long after their bodies went limp.

Even those who fought with all their might eventually succumbed, collapsing to their knees as the darkness invaded their minds.

Lyerin stepped forward, his expression one of grim determination.

"This ends now," he said, his tone icy. He raised both arms, drawing in power from the chamber itself.

The air crackled around him, and for a moment, the shadows hesitated.

But before he could act, the last shadow found a target.

It slipped past the soldiers and dove toward him.

Lyerin's eyes narrowed.

He would not be so easily taken.

In a flash, he turned, fending off the darkness with a single, calculated strike.

Lyerin's eyes glinted as he took in the chaos around him.

Shadows still crawled along the walls like a jumping spider ready to strike anytime, retreating into the darkness but watching, waiting.

The soldiers stumbled to their feet, gasping for breath, their faces pale and sweat-soaked.

A few clutched their weapons as if they were the last lifelines they had. But it was clear to Lyerin that they were broken—frightened.

The dark battle had scarred them, and their eyes now sought him out, wide with a desperate, unconscious dependence.

Good.

He raised a hand, and as if sensing his command, the lingering shadows paused, curling back into the edges of the chamber.

The flickering, oppressive darkness seemed to recede ever so slightly.

Lyerin exhaled slowly, surveying the shaken faces before him.

They looked to him as if he were their last hope, and while that suited his purpose, he knew it was not enough.

Subtly, Lyerin focused inward, turning his attention to a small, ethereal interface only visible to him: the Loyalty Bar.

Thin threads of glowing energy connected him to each of the soldiers.

The bar hovered just beneath his gaze, shimmering with faint blue light, its segments gradually filling.

It was at level ten—low.

Too low.

Frustration flickered across his features.

After everything they had faced together, it seemed their loyalty still hovered at a tentative level.

It wasn't nearly enough for what he needed.

Lyerin knew he had guided them through the darkness, shielded them from death, and granted them knowledge beyond their comprehension.

Yet their hearts clung to doubt and fear.

He suppressed a sneer of impatience.

Loyalty, true and unwavering, would require more than simple heroics or brute strength.

He needed to drive them deeper into the web of dependence until leaving him became inconceivable.

The soldiers shifted uneasily, glancing at one another, their expressions clouded.

He could feel their fear but also the growing threads of awe and reluctant respect.

Perhaps they were beginning to understand just how reliant they were on him.

A flicker of satisfaction sparked in Lyerin's eyes.

This battle had been a test, a necessary step. But more work needed to be done.

He turned away from the murmuring soldiers, who now gathered in clusters, whispering fervently.

Lyerin's thoughts churned as he considered his next steps.

The Loyalty Bar could be leveled further, but this place—the darkened chamber with its whispering shadows and oppressive air—was not the right stage.

He needed a new place, a new challenge that would draw them deeper into his orbit and force them to see him not just as a leader, but as the force that governed their very survival.

Lyerin's gaze fell upon the ancient-looking disk resting in the center of the chamber.

It glimmered faintly, its surface etched with runes from a forgotten civilization.

He felt its pull, the energy radiating from within it.

Whatever lay ahead, this artifact might be key.

It whispered promises of power and trials that would test their limits—and theirs alone.

Another piece of the puzzle.

Slowly, he turned back to the soldiers, their eyes still filled with questions and unspoken pleas.

They were scared, yes. But they were also willing to follow.

He would use that.

He would deepen their dependence until they were bound to him by more than temporary oaths—bound by loyalty, by survival, by need.

"It seems we have more to accomplish," he said, his voice echoing off the chamber walls. "Rest while you can. We leave soon. There is still much to be done."

The soldiers exchanged glances, uncertainty and fear dancing in their eyes, but none spoke up.

None dared.

Lyerin's presence had become an anchor, whether they liked it or not. He watched them for another moment, feeling the faint pulse of their loyalty threads tighten just a bit more.

The bar would rise.

He would see to it.

But first, they needed a new trial.

Just so he could make sure.