LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Their combined efforts turned the forest into a battlefield of traps and spells.

The ground behind them was scorched, riddled with spikes, and covered in debris.

Illusions darted through the trees, their ghostly forms adding to the chaos. But even with everything they threw at Lyerin, his laughter remained a haunting presence in the distance, growing louder with every passing second.

Miriam coughed violently, blood staining her lips as she stumbled. "We're… throwing everything we have at him… and he's still coming."

"He's toying with us," Theran said, his voice filled with despair. "He hasn't even tried to catch up yet. He's letting us burn ourselves out."

"Don't think about it!" Donovan snapped, though his own panic was evident. "Just keep moving!"

The forest grew darker as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out toward them.

Their mana reserves were dwindling, each spell and technique taking a toll that they could no longer ignore.

Mikhail's legs gave out for a moment, and he stumbled forward, catching himself on a tree. The glow around him flickered, and he cursed under his breath. "I… I can't keep this up…"

"None of us can," the Younger Woman admitted, her voice trembling. "But we don't have a choice."

The Scarred Soldier slowed his pace slightly, his sharp eyes scanning the terrain ahead.

He spotted a narrow ravine up ahead and motioned for the others to follow. "Through there!" he ordered. "We can use the terrain to our advantage!"

They veered toward the ravine, their breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. The rocky walls provided some semblance of cover, but it wasn't enough to ease their fears. The Scarred Soldier turned to Miriam and Theran, his expression grim. "Set more traps. Whatever you have left."

Miriam nodded weakly, her hands shaking as she conjured another barrier of spinning blades. The spell fizzled slightly, a sign of her depleted mana, but she pushed through the pain. Theran threw down more talismans, each one creating bursts of fire that illuminated the narrow passage.

As they emerged from the ravine, their bodies were pushed to the brink. The Younger Woman collapsed to her knees, her breaths shallow and uneven. "I… I can't…"

"Get up!" the Scarred Soldier barked, pulling her to her feet. "We're not done yet!"

But despite his words, even he was struggling to stand. His vision blurred, and his muscles ached with every movement. The others weren't faring any better. Donovan leaned heavily against a tree, his hands trembling as he tried to steady himself. Mikhail sat on the ground, his head hanging low as he gasped for air. Theran and Miriam were barely conscious, their bodies slumped against the rocky wall of the ravine.

For a moment, the group was silent, the only sound being their labored breathing. The oppressive weight of their situation pressed down on them, and the realization that they couldn't go any further was inescapable. They had given everything they had, and it still wasn't enough.

"I can't… I can't do this anymore," Mikhail muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"None of us can," the Younger Woman replied, tears streaming down her face. "We've… we've reached our limit."

The Scarred Soldier clenched his fists, his body trembling with exhaustion and frustration. "We can't stop… not now…"

But deep down, even he knew the truth. They had nothing left to give. And Lyerin's laughter was still there, echoing through the forest like a cruel reminder of their impending doom.

The air grew heavier, the oppressive silence pressing down on the Scarred Soldier, Younger Woman, Donovan, Theran, Miriam, and Mikhail as they sat, slumped and broken, against the jagged walls of the ravine.

Their breaths were shallow and strained, their bodies trembling with the strain of having pushed beyond their limits.

Every muscle screamed in pain, every ounce of mana in their bodies depleted. They were drained, utterly and completely.

And then it came—the sound they dreaded, the sound they had been running from all along. That laughter.

Lyerin's laughter echoed through the air, faint at first, then growing louder and louder, until it seemed to reverberate through the trees and into their very bones.

It was manic, unrelenting, and laced with a sick sense of amusement.

The group froze, their exhaustion momentarily replaced by sheer terror.

They couldn't see him yet, but they could feel him—his presence, his energy, his bloodlust. It was overwhelming, suffocating, like a predator cornering its prey.

The Scarred Soldier struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against the rocky wall for support.

His legs shook, and his vision blurred, but he forced himself to stand, if only to face the inevitable with what little dignity he had left.

The others followed his lead, though their movements were slow and unsteady. Miriam winced as she pushed herself upright, clutching her side where a faint, sharp pain reminded her of the cost of her forbidden spells.

Mikhail groaned, his hands trembling as he reached for a dagger he no longer had the strength to wield.

The laughter grew closer, until finally, he appeared.

Lyerin stepped into view, his silhouette framed against the darkening sky.

His expression was wild, his grin wide and unhinged, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of exhilaration and madness.

His clothes were torn in places, his hair disheveled, and yet he exuded an air of effortless power. He wasn't even breathing heavily—he was entirely untouched by the chaos they had left in their wake.

For a long moment, none of them moved.

The group could do nothing but stare as he approached, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

Each step echoed in their ears, a harbinger of their doom.

The oppressive energy that radiated from him was unlike anything they had ever felt before. It wasn't just power—it was domination, a suffocating reminder of their insignificance in the face of his might.

Lyerin stopped a short distance away, his grin never faltering.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the six of them, taking in their battered and broken forms.

There was no pity in his eyes, no mercy—only amusement.

For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of the wind through the trees and the faint crackling of the traps they had set earlier, still smoldering in the background.

"Well, well," Lyerin said at last, his voice calm but carrying a chilling edge. "You've made it this far. Impressive. Most don't even try to run, let alone fight. But you... you've given me quite the chase."

The Scarred Soldier clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to say something, to stand his ground, but his body wouldn't obey him. His strength was gone, his mana spent. All he could do was glare at Lyerin, though even that felt futile.

Lyerin chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down their spines. "Oh, don't give me that look," he said, taking a step closer. "I'm not here to finish you off. Not yet, at least. You've amused me too much for that."

The Younger Woman let out a shaky breath, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. "What… do you want?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What do I want?" Lyerin repeated, his grin widening. "I want you to keep running. I want you to keep fighting. I want you to keep amusing me. That's all."

Donovan, his face pale and drenched in sweat, looked up at Lyerin with a mixture of fear and defiance. "You're… playing with us," he said, his voice hoarse. "You're just… playing a game."

Lyerin laughed again, louder this time, the sound echoing through the ravine. "Of course I am! What else would this be? You've given me more entertainment in the past few hours than I've had in years. Your traps, your spells, your desperate attempts to escape… It's all been so deliciously entertaining."

Theran gritted his teeth, his hands balling into weak fists. "You're… a monster," he spat, though his voice lacked the strength to carry the insult.

"A monster?" Lyerin echoed, his grin never wavering. "Perhaps. But I repeat, isn't it better to be a monster than a coward? At least I know what I am. Can you say the same for yourselves?"

The group fell silent, their heads hanging low as they struggled to even stay upright. Lyerin watched them for a moment, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker—something unspoken.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone light but with an unmistakable edge. "You've done well to make it this far. Truly, I'm impressed. But now… you're done. Your mana is gone, your bodies are broken, and you have nothing left to give."

He stepped closer, his presence looming over them like a shadow. "So," he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper, "crawl. If you have no more mana and you're tired, then crawl. Show me how far you're willing to go to survive. Amuse me one last time."

His laughter echoed through the ravine once more, loud and unrelenting, as the group stared at him in stunned silence, their exhaustion and despair swallowing any remaining hope they had.