LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Chapter 322: Craze ends

Minutes stretched into hours as the battle raged on.

Lyerin's body became a canvas of injuries, each new wound adding to the patchwork of scars that adorned his skin. His breathing grew labored, but his movements remained sharp, fueled by sheer willpower and adrenaline.

He leaped into the air, bringing his fist down on a beast's skull with enough force to crack the ground beneath it. But before he could savor the victory, another creature lunged at him, its jaws closing around his arm.

Lyerin let out a roar, his muscles straining as he pried the beast's jaws apart. Blood poured from his arm, but he didn't stop. With a guttural scream, he threw the monster into its companions, sending them tumbling like bowling pins.

"More!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the forest. "Come at me!"

The creatures seemed to sense his exhaustion. They grew bolder, their attacks more coordinated and ferocious. Lyerin found himself on the defensive, his body struggling to keep up with the relentless assault.

One beast slammed into him with the force of a charging bull, sending him crashing into a tree. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he crumpled to the ground. For a moment, the world spun, and darkness threatened to overtake him.

But then, he laughed.

It was a broken, ragged sound, filled with both pain and defiance. Lyerin dragged himself to his feet, his body trembling. "Not yet," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not done yet."

The creatures closed in, their eyes glowing with the promise of victory. Lyerin clenched his fists, his knuckles white. His body screamed in protest, but his mind refused to give in.

The battle reached its peak. Lyerin was a blur of motion, his strikes fueled by desperation and determination. He took down one beast with a savage uppercut, then spun and delivered a bone-crushing kick to another's leg.

But his body was failing him. His movements grew sluggish, and his vision blurred. A beast's claws tore through his side, sending him staggering. Another struck him from behind, its tail smashing into his spine.

Lyerin fell to his knees, blood pooling around him. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle. The creatures circled him, their growls low and menacing.

For the first time, doubt crept into his mind. Was this it? Was this where his journey ended?

Lyerin forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling under his weight. His eyes burned with an unrelenting fire, and his lips curled into a defiant grin.

"I'm still standing," he said, his voice weak but unwavering. "You'll have to do better than this."

The creatures hesitated, as if unnerved by his resilience. Then, with a collective roar, they charged.

Lyerin met them head-on, his body a whirlwind of destruction. He fought with everything he had, each strike a testament to his indomitable spirit. But the toll on his body was too great. A beast's claw slashed across his chest, sending him crashing to the ground.

This time, he didn't get up.

Lyerin lay motionless, his body broken and battered. Blood pooled beneath him, and his breaths came in shallow gasps. The creatures loomed over him, their victory all but assured.

But even in defeat, Lyerin's spirit burned bright. His lips curled into a faint smile, and his eyes sparkled with defiance.

"Not… bad," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "You almost… got me."

The creatures growled, their eyes filled with both triumph and unease. Then, one by one, they turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Lyerin alone in the clearing.

Lyerin closed his eyes, his body screaming for rest. But even as darkness claimed him, his mind was already plotting his next move. The fight wasn't over. It never would be. He believed.

…

No long, Lyerin stirred, the weight of his battered body pressing heavily against the cold, blood-soaked ground.

His muscles screamed in agony, his wounds throbbed with an intensity that rivaled the fiercest storms, and his breaths were shallow and labored.

For a moment, he thought he was still locked in the violent embrace of combat, caught in the chaos that had pushed him to the edge of oblivion. But as his vision cleared, he realized the scene around him was eerily still.

The beasts, the very monsters that had nearly ended him, lay sprawled around him—dead. Their bodies were twisted and mangled, their eyes lifeless, and their once-menacing forms now nothing more than grotesque remnants of their former power.

Lyerin sat up slowly, his hands pressing against the dirt for support. His laughter, weak but unmistakable, bubbled up from his chest. "So, they didn't finish me off," he muttered, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. "Just my hallucinations."

He dragged himself to his feet, each movement a testament to his indomitable will. As he gazed at the carnage around him, a grin spread across his face, wide and wild. "Coming to this Zordrix World…" he began, his voice growing stronger with each word, "…was the best decision I ever made!"

He paced through the battlefield, his eyes scanning the corpses of the fallen beasts. "Back on Earth," he mused aloud, kicking the lifeless body of a monster that had clawed his side, "I couldn't even dream of this. Families, schemes, betrayals—it was all about politics and power plays."

His tone darkened, the grin on his face faltering for a moment. "Everyone was a damn schemer, waiting for the perfect moment to stab you in the back. No one fought fair, not like this." He gestured toward the scattered remains of his adversaries, his smile returning. "But these beasts? They're honest. Brutal, yes, but honest. They fight to survive, to dominate, not to manipulate. It's…" he paused, searching for the word, "…relaxing."

He crouched beside a particularly large creature, its jaw still locked in a fierce snarl even in death. "You almost got me," he said, tapping its forehead with his bloodied knuckles. "But almost doesn't count, does it?"

Lyerin began collecting the mana stones, the glowing orbs embedded in the beasts' cores. Each one pulsed faintly with eldritch energy, a testament to the power these creatures had wielded.

"One," he counted aloud, prying a stone from a beast's chest with a sickening crunch. "Two… three…" His voice echoed through the clearing as he worked, his hands moving with mechanical precision.

As he stuffed the stones into his satchel, his thoughts drifted back to Earth. "They would've killed for something like this," he murmured, holding up a particularly large mana stone. "Hell, they would've killed me for something half as valuable. But here? Here, I can take what I want, fight who I want, and no one's around to stop me."

He stood, his satchel bulging with mana stones. "This," he said, spreading his arms wide, "is freedom. This is living."

The trek back to his base was slow and arduous, his injuries making every step a challenge. But Lyerin didn't mind. The pain was a reminder of his triumph, a badge of honor he wore with pride.

As he walked, he passed the remains of the creatures he had slaughtered earlier. Each one was a monument to his relentless pursuit of strength, a testament to his determination to push himself to the limit.

He stopped beside the corpse of a beast with shattered horns and a twisted neck. "You put up a decent fight," he said, crouching to examine it more closely. "But you should've aimed for the kill. That hesitation cost you."

Further along, he found another creature, its body riddled with the marks of his brutal assault. "This one," he said, nodding appreciatively, "had some spirit. Too bad it didn't last."

He continued, each encounter sparking a new commentary.

"Your claws were sharp, but not sharp enough."

"Those teeth could've torn me apart, but you didn't get the chance."

"Fast, but not fast enough to outrun me."

With every step, his grin grew wider, his eyes shining with a manic light. The sight of the carnage, the evidence of his dominance, filled him with a sense of satisfaction he hadn't felt in years.

As the sun began to set, casting a blood-red glow over the forest, Lyerin stopped at the edge of a small clearing. The bodies of several beasts lay strewn about, their blood staining the ground.

"Look at this," he said, spreading his arms wide. "A masterpiece." He turned slowly, taking in the scene. "This is what it's all about. Not the scheming, not the politics, but the fight. The thrill. The rush of putting everything on the line and coming out on top."

He looked down at his battered body, his grin softening into a smirk. "Even if it costs me this," he said, gesturing to his injuries, "it's worth it. Every damn second."

Lyerin resumed his journey, his steps steady despite the pain. The base was still miles away, but he didn't care. The Zordrix World had given him what Earth never could—a purpose, a challenge, a reason to push himself beyond his limits.

As he walked, he clutched the mana stones tightly, their glow casting eerie shadows on his face. "These will do for now," he said, his voice low but resolute. "But this is just the beginning."

The forest seemed to echo his words, the trees whispering promises of battles yet to come. And Lyerin, battered but unbroken, welcomed them with open arms.