LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

The afternoon sun bore down on the training grounds, casting long shadows across the cracked earth.

The heat weighed heavily in the air, mingling with the sweat and desperation of the tribe members.

Every now and then, a roar from one of the beasts echoed through the clearing, sending nervous shivers down the spines of the tribe.

They were still learning, but Lyerin's sharp eyes didn't miss the hesitations, the trembling hands, the fear.

They weren't ready yet.

They couldn't be trusted to fight the real threats.

Gregor stood among the others, his one remaining arm clutching a spear.

He looked determined, but the fear in his eyes betrayed him. He had already failed once today, and Lyerin's cold dismissal had left him desperate to prove himself.

The shame of his earlier failure burned through him like a fire, but Lyerin's words cut deeper. "Useless," he had called him. Gregor could still hear it echoing in his head, mocking him.

Lyerin stood a few feet away, his arms crossed, watching the training with detached amusement.

The Pig Orcs around him stood ready, their eyes scanning the field for any sign of danger.

They were the only ones who didn't hesitate, the only ones who acted without fear.

Lyerin trusted them more than the humans at his feet.

Suddenly, a beast burst from the underbrush.

It was a twisted, gnarled thing with thick black fur and a grotesque maw filled with sharp teeth.

Its eyes glowed red, and its snarl sent a ripple of fear through the tribe.

The ground shook as the creature charged forward, its massive body barreling toward the group.
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"Hold your ground!" Lyerin shouted, his voice sharp and commanding.

The tribe members stiffened, their hands gripping their weapons tighter.

Gregor, standing at the front, froze. His heart pounded in his chest as the beast's monstrous form grew larger with every passing second.

His feet refused to move, his body locked in place by fear.

The creature was terrifying.

It was nothing like the beasts they had fought earlier.

"Gregor!" Lyerin's voice cut through the air like a whip. "Move!"

But Gregor couldn't.

The beast was nearly upon him now, its eyes fixed on him, its jaws opening wide for the kill.

He could feel the hot breath of the creature, the ground trembling beneath him.

Just as the creature leapt forward, ready to tear Gregor apart, a blur of movement came from Lyerin's side.

One of the Pig Orcs, standing with a massive axe strapped to its back, roared and hurled the weapon through the air with frightening speed.

Whoosh!

The axe spun through the air, a deadly arc of steel, and embedded itself into the side of the beast with a sickening thud.

The creature's snarl turned into a gurgling howl of pain as it collapsed to the ground, its body twitching and writhing in the dirt.

Black blood pooled beneath it, seeping into the cracked earth.

Gregor stood frozen, his body trembling, his spear hanging loosely in his grip.

The beast lay dead before him, but the terror in his eyes remained. He hadn't moved.

He hadn't acted.

He had failed again.

Lyerin's eyes narrowed as he approached, his steps slow and deliberate. The air around him felt heavy, almost suffocating. The Pig Orcs watched in silence, their weapons lowered, but their eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Gregor dropped to his knees before Lyerin, his one hand trembling as he reached out toward him. "Please... Chief," he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Please give me another chance. I'll do better. I swear it. Just... one more chance."

Lyerin stared down at him, his face cold and emotionless. His words came out like ice. "You had your chance, Gregor. Twice now, you've failed." His voice dripped with disdain. "I told you I don't need cowards in my tribe."

Gregor's head hung low, his body shaking with shame. He knew he had no excuse. "I'll do anything, Chief," he pleaded, his voice cracking.

"I'll prove myself. I can't leave. I need to stay here... for her." His eyes flicked toward Krisella, standing in the distance. "For Krisella."

Before Lyerin could respond, there was a shuffle of movement. Krisella stepped forward, her face pale but determined.

She walked toward Lyerin, her steps slow and deliberate.

As she reached him, she knelt beside Gregor, her head bowed in a sign of submission.

"Chief Lyerin," Krisella's voice was soft but steady. "Please... forgive Gregor. He's trying. He just needs time. Let him stay, and I'll make sure he never hesitates again."

Lyerin's eyes flicked to Krisella, his smirk returning. "Oh, your name is Krisella?" he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You are begging for him? How touching. You're risking a lot for someone who's already proven himself worthless."

"Please," she said again, her eyes filled with desperation. "Give him another chance. He'll do better. I swear it. He just needs more training."

Lyerin regarded her for a long moment, his amusement fading.

His gaze flicked between Krisella and Gregor, watching as they both knelt before him.

For a brief second, he considered their plea, wondering if there was some twisted value in keeping Gregor around just to toy with them both.

But before he could speak, a sound rumbled in the distance, faint but growing louder with each passing second.

Lyerin's eyes narrowed as he looked up, his senses sharpening.

The sound wasn't from a beast.

It was something else, something mechanical.

The sky began to darken, shadows cast across the field as a low, rhythmic hum filled the air.

Whup-whup-whup.

The noise grew louder, more distinct, as the ground beneath them vibrated from the sheer force of the approaching threat.

The tribe members, still scattered around the training grounds, looked up, their eyes wide with confusion and fear. "What is that?" one of them muttered, glancing toward Lyerin for answers.

Lyerin's gaze was fixed on the sky. His eyes narrowed into slits as he saw them—helicopters.

Dozens of them.

They swarmed the horizon, their black shapes cutting through the clouds like vultures circling a carcass.

His heart rate quickened, though his expression remained calm, almost indifferent.

The mechanical beasts of the sky moved with precision, their rotors slicing through the air with a deafening thrum.

As they drew closer, Lyerin could make out the insignias painted on their sides.

These weren't mere scouts.

This was a military force.

One of the tribe members looked up, his face pale with fear. "Chief," he whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that?"

Lyerin's lips curled into a smirk as he murmured under his breath, just loud enough for those closest to hear. "Government."