LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Chapter 307: Building

The soldiers stood in the clearing, still entranced by the towering, pulsating mountain before them. But Lyerin, ever focused, broke the spell of their awe with a sharp command.

"Enough staring. This is not a vacation," he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. Enjoy new chapters from M V L

The soldiers startled, their eyes shifting nervously to him. Lyerin's usual calm was gone, replaced with a strict, almost severe demeanor.

"Do you think this is where the story ends? No. This is where it begins. If you want to survive when I'm no longer here, you'll start listening now."

The soldiers exchanged glances, some confused, others tense. Lucas, always quick to sense the mood, raised his voice tentatively. "What do you want us to do, Lyerin?"

Lyerin's piercing gaze landed on Lucas, and then swept over the rest of them. "We're staying here for now," he said curtly.

"This place is safe enough. Lack of mana means no eldritch beasts lurking in the shadows. But safety is fleeting. And I don't trust fleeting things." His voice dropped into a dangerous growl. "I'll make this place mine, or it will be the beacon when I'm gone. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," a few murmured, but it wasn't enough for Lyerin.

"LOUDER!" he roared, his voice echoing across the clearing. The soldiers jumped, startled. "Do you think this is a game? Do you think I'm doing this for fun? You have one chance to get this right. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" they shouted in unison this time, their voices trembling.

"Good," Lyerin said, his tone calming but no less commanding. "First task—scout the surrounding area. I want full reports on every single thing you find. Every stream, every odd sound, every damn pebble. You don't overlook anything. Move in pairs, no one alone. If you're foolish enough to disobey me, you might not live to regret it."

The soldiers nodded and split into pairs, moving cautiously into the forest, their hands gripping their weapons tightly.

The air was tense as they disappeared into the bioluminescent woods, leaving Lyerin behind, standing tall and watchful.

An hour passed before the pairs returned, their faces varying degrees of apprehension.

They shared their findings: small creatures that seemed harmless, no visible predators, and strange, glowing plants that reacted to their presence.

One soldier mentioned a stream of the glowing liquid they'd seen earlier.

"Good," Lyerin said, his tone clipped. "We'll make use of that later. For now, onto the second task."

He turned toward the center of the clearing, pointing to a patch of flat, moss-covered ground. "We're building a statue."

The soldiers blinked, confused. A murmur of bewilderment rippled through the group.

"A… statue?" one of them dared to ask.

"Yes," Lyerin said sharply. "A statue. Of a Minotaur. And no, it's not up for debate." His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You need something to anchor you here. Something to remind you of who my tribe members are, what you're building, and who we owe our survival to. A symbol. This statue will stand long after I've left, and it will remind us of everything you've learned under the journey."

The soldiers hesitated, unsure how to proceed.

"What are you waiting for?!" Lyerin barked. "Get to work! Start gathering stones, sturdy wood, anything that won't crumble in a week. Move!"

Scrambling, the soldiers rushed off in different directions, their earlier exhaustion forgotten under Lyerin's unrelenting gaze.

They brought back stones—large, jagged pieces of rock from the base of the mountain—along with vines to bind them and wood from the glowing trees, though they hesitated to cut down anything too large.

As they began shaping the base of the statue, Lyerin prowled among them like a predator, his eyes sharp and critical. "That stone is too small. Replace it," he snapped at one pair. "You call that a sturdy base? That'll fall over the moment the wind blows. Redo it."

Another soldier fumbled with the vines, trying to tie them tightly around a stack of stones. Lyerin stopped beside him, his arms crossed. "Is that the best you can do?" he asked, his voice cold. "If this statue collapses because of your shoddy work, everyone here will know it was your fault."

The soldier's face turned red, and he worked faster, sweat dripping from his brow.

Hours turned into what felt like days. The soldiers worked tirelessly, hauling heavy stones, shaping them with makeshift tools, and binding them together with whatever they could find. Their hands became blistered, their muscles ached, and their tempers frayed, but Lyerin allowed no complaints.

"Do you think the world cares about your pain?" he demanded when one soldier groaned in frustration. "Do you think the enemies you'll face will care? No. They'll crush you without a second thought. So suck it up and get it done."

Slowly but surely, the statue began to take shape. The Minotaur's broad shoulders and muscular frame emerged from the rough stone, its head crowned with imposing horns. The soldiers' initial reluctance faded as they saw their progress. Pride replaced their exhaustion, and they worked with renewed determination.

By the time they finished, the statue stood tall and imposing in the center of the clearing. The Minotaur's fierce expression seemed to challenge anyone who looked at it, a silent testament to their hard work and unity.

The soldiers stepped back, admiring their creation. Despite the grueling effort, they couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Lyerin stood before the statue, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he nodded. "It'll do," he said gruffly. "Barely. But it'll do."

The soldiers exchanged tired smiles, knowing that was the closest thing to a compliment they would get.

"Now," Lyerin continued, his tone firm, "you've proven you can work together. But this is just the beginning. This statue isn't just a monument—it's a promise. A promise that I'll set you free from the Borgias Family slavery, even without me. So don't disappoint me."

The soldiers nodded solemnly, their earlier fatigue replaced with determination. They knew the road ahead would be difficult, but for the first time, they felt prepared to face it.

Lyerin stood before the newly constructed statue, his silhouette framed by the pulsating glow of the bioluminescent forest.

His sharp gaze swept over the soldiers, who had gathered around the Minotaur monument with a mixture of pride and confusion.

They had poured their sweat, blood, and tears into its creation, and now, their leader's demeanor had grown even more severe.

"Leave," Lyerin commanded, his voice calm but unyielding.

The soldiers blinked, exchanging nervous glances. One of them, Lucas, took a cautious step forward. "Leave? But why, Lyerin? Didn't we just build this together? Aren't we—"

"Did I ask for questions, Lucas?" Lyerin interrupted, his tone razor-sharp. Lucas froze mid-sentence, his face flushed with embarrassment. "I said leave. All of you. Now."

"But—" another soldier started, but the look Lyerin shot them silenced any protest. Reluctantly, they began to back away, their footsteps hesitant.

"Go beyond the trees," Lyerin continued, his voice now laced with an edge of finality. "Do not linger. Do not look back. Whatever happens here, you will not interfere. If you value your lives, you'll obey this one last order."

The soldiers hesitated, but the weight of his words drove them to action. They shuffled into the shadows of the glowing forest, casting anxious glances over their shoulders as they disappeared into the underbrush.

Once he was alone, Lyerin turned to face the statue.

He exhaled deeply, his breath clouding slightly in the humid air. His hands rose slowly, fingers spread wide, as if to grasp the energy that seemed to emanate from the monument itself.

"This," he muttered to himself, his voice low, "is what it's all been leading to."

The silence deepened as he stepped closer to the statue, his boots crunching against the moss-covered ground.

With a deliberate motion, he placed both hands on the cold stone surface of the Minotaur's chest, and the air seemed to ripple around him.

He began to chant, his voice resonant and filled with power:

"Et odem rerum primae voces…

Ex manu ad lapidem, ad spiritum, ad aeonum...

Exsurgite, figura praetoria…

Da vires, da defensionem, da memoriam!"

As his words echoed across the clearing, the statue began to hum, the vibrations so low and deep they seemed to resonate within the very bones of the earth.

The faint pulsing glow around the monument intensified, a rhythmic heartbeat of energy that spread outward, rustling the glowing leaves of nearby trees.

Lyerin's hands trembled slightly, but his voice did not falter. His chanting grew louder, fiercer, each word sharp as a blade and dripping with ancient authority.

The language was foreign, otherworldly, a tongue not meant for mortal ears. Yet his tone carried with it the weight of understanding and purpose.

"Minotauri custos terrae!

Praesidium nobis in terra ignota.

Ego evoco te, non ut deus, sed ut scutum.

Non servus, sed protector! Exsurgite!"

The statue responded now in earnest. Its surface, once dull and lifeless stone, began to glow with veins of golden light.

The Minotaur's eyes flickered, faint at first, then blazing as though lit from within by molten fire.

The ground beneath Lyerin's feet cracked and split, faint tendrils of energy creeping outward in fractal patterns.

The soldiers, hidden just beyond the tree line, watched with wide eyes.

Though Lyerin had forbidden them to interfere, the spectacle was impossible to ignore. One whispered to another, "What in the world is he doing?"

Lucas, ever curious, hushed the others. "No," he whispered, "it's not what he's doing—it's what he's unleashing."

Lyerin's chanting reached a crescendo. His arms lifted toward the heavens as he bellowed the final invocation:

"Vitam tuam doleo ut figura orbis!

Ad terras ignotas, ad hostes sine metu, surgite!

Non relinquemur in tenebris—fiat lux!"

With that, the statue erupted in a blinding pulse of energy.

Golden light surged outward in all directions, crashing like waves against the trees and washing over everything in its path.

The soldiers ducked and shielded their eyes, feeling the warm yet strangely comforting force ripple over them.

The energy condensed, focusing back into the Minotaur, and the statue shuddered. Lyerin stood firm, even as the vibrations nearly knocked him off his feet.

When the light dimmed, the statue's transformation was complete. Its stone surface now appeared almost alive, as if it could move at any moment.

The Minotaur's eyes glowed steadily, and the hum of power surrounding it had settled into a quiet but constant thrum.

Lyerin stepped back, surveying his work with satisfaction. He muttered to himself, "This will do. Yes, this will more than do."

He turned toward the trees where the soldiers still hid, though he did not look directly at them. "You may return," he called, his voice calm but carrying the same authority as before. "It is done."

The soldiers cautiously emerged, their eyes darting between Lyerin and the now-glowing statue.

None dared speak as they approached, awestruck by the monument's transformation.

Finally, Lucas broke the silence, his voice trembling. "What… what is it now?"