LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe - Chapter 112

Chapter 112: Excommunicado
In the Kingdom of Rose, nestled deep within its grandiose castle, a figure sat draped in a flowing black robe.

The throne upon which he rested was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, intricately carved from the dark wood of an ancient forest, adorned with crimson roses that seemed almost to bleed.

The man’s posture was one of utter ease, his back reclined against the throne, with his gaze lazily following the graceful movements of performers before him.

They danced and twirled, their colorful costumes a blur of motion and joy.

Yet, despite the spectacle, the man seemed unimpressed, and his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

But then, without warning, something shifted. His eyes, which had been half-lidded in boredom, suddenly snapped open, sharp and alert.

The faintest of frowns creased his brow as he felt a disturbance, something foreign yet familiar tugging at the edges of his consciousness. His head turned slowly, almost mechanically, as if drawn by an invisible force, and his gaze fixed on a point far beyond the walls of the castle. His expression darkened, the playful disinterest vanishing entirely as he murmured to himself, “Excommunicado? Borgias Family?”

His voice, though soft, carried a weight that made those around him pause in their actions, sensing a change in the atmosphere.

The performers faltered, their rhythm disrupted by the sudden tension that filled the hall.

The man on the throne, however, paid them no mind. His focus was elsewhere, his thoughts racing as he processed the implications of what he had just sensed.

Something significant had occurred within the Borgias Family, something that had set off alarms within him—alarms that could not be ignored.

…

Back within the confines of the Borgias Family’s stronghold, the room was thick with the oppressive silence that had settled after the brave man’s death.

The man in the black suit stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the now-still corpse, his thoughts a whirlwind of calculations and conjectures.

The air in the room felt heavier, laden with the aftereffects of the dark magic that had been unleashed.

The members of the Borgias Family, still reeling from the events, watched the man with a mixture of fear and awe, unsure of what he might do next.

Finally, one of the more senior members of the family, his voice trembling slightly, spoke up. He explained who Lyerin was—a halfling, the son of Lyuzen.

The man in the suit tilted his head slightly, his expression obscured by the shadow that clung to his face. “A halfling?” he mused aloud, his voice laced with curiosity. “And he is Lyuzen’s son too?”

He lifted a hand to his chin, as if deep in thought, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the stubble on his jaw.

The shadows that obscured his face shifted slightly, but still, his features remained hidden, only the outline of his sharp cheekbones and the faint glint of his eyes visible. He considered the implications of what he had just learned.

How did this Lyerin awaken such a powerful entity as the Torture Parasitic Tree?

A tree of such malevolence should only be within the grasp of those who had reached the sixth cycle of mana. And yet, this halfling, who should not possess such strength, had somehow not only awakened it but had controlled it with a terrifying level of mastery.

Before he could ponder further, the Thousand Shadow Panther, still licking its wounds from the earlier encounter, raised its head and spoke, its voice a low, growling rumble. “The halfling… he might have taken it from me,” the panther admitted reluctantly, its pride clearly wounded. “When I gave my mana to the halfling, I did not realize it was being drained… It was subtle, but when I tried to teleport, I felt weakened, as if something had been taken from me.”

The man in the suit turned his gaze to the panther, his expression inscrutable. The others in the room, however, gasped in disbelief.

The very idea that a halfling—a creature considered inferior in many magical societies—could siphon mana from one of the Guardian Beasts was unthinkable. Yet here they were, confronted with the impossible.

The man in the suit began to pace slowly, his mind piecing together the puzzle laid before him.

Lyerin had somehow drained the Thousand Shadow Panther’s mana—an act that should have been beyond his capabilities. But it happened.

The members of the Borgias Family had confirmed it, and the panther’s testimony only solidified the reality of the situation. This was no mere anomaly or fluke. It was something far more dangerous.

And then the man in the suit spoke again, his voice cutting through the silence. “Where did he learn such things? How does he possess knowledge that we, the Borgias Family, do not? What else does he know?” His questions hung in the air, each one a dagger aimed at the heart of their assumptions.

Suddenly, as if answering the growing tension in the room, two shadows began to materialize beside him.

They coalesced into humanoid figures, their forms dark and indistinct, yet undeniably powerful.

These were no ordinary beings—they were the Shadow Envoys, elite agents of the Borgias Family, tasked with the most delicate and dangerous missions.

The man in the suit turned to them, his posture still casual but with an undercurrent of authority. “What have you found?” he asked, his tone demanding yet calm.

One of the Shadow Envoys stepped forward, its voice a whisper that seemed to bypass the ears and speak directly to the mind. “We have traced Lyerin Borgias to two potential bases of his tribe, but both locations are shrouded in powerful concealment magic. We could not locate him or his tribe directly, but there are signs… indications of his presence. He is close, but elusive.”

The man in the suit nodded, his expression still unreadable. His aura, however, grew darker, the shadows around him thickening as if drawn to his rising intensity. He understood now.

This was no ordinary threat.

Lyerin Borgias was not just a rogue element or a mere nuisance. He was a descendant who had turned his back on the family, but more than that, he was someone who had delved into the darkest, most forbidden corners of magical knowledge. He had done what the Borgias Family, with all their power and influence, had not.

“He understands the ruins of the magical world better than us,” the man in the suit muttered, almost to himself. “He has knowledge that could pose a greater threat to us than any external enemy. This is no ordinary situation. We are dealing with someone who could unravel everything we have built, someone who could challenge the very foundations of our power.”

The room remained silent as his words sank in, each member of the Borgias Family feeling the weight of the realization.

Lyerin was not just a problem to be dealt with. He was a threat that had to be eliminated—swiftly and with extreme prejudice.

The man in the suit stood straighter, his decision made. He turned to the Shadow Envoys, his voice cold and final. “We may have to consider the unthinkable. Perhaps it is time to declare an Excommunicado against the halfling named Lyerin Borgias.”

A collective gasp filled the room. Excommunicado was a term reserved for the most dangerous of enemies, those who had betrayed the Borgias Family in such a way that they were marked for death by every member, every ally, every force that the family could muster.

It was a death sentence, not just in the physical sense, but in every conceivable way.

The target of an Excommunicado would be hunted until they were utterly erased from existence, their name and deeds consigned to oblivion.

“Excommunicado?” one of the family members dared to whisper.

“Yes,” the man in the suit responded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “He has forsaken his ties to the family. He has shown that he is willing to turn our own secrets against us. For that, there can be no mercy.”

The man’s words were like a hammer striking an anvil, final and irrevocable.

The decision was made. Lyerin Borgias would be marked, hunted, and destroyed, no matter the cost.

The Borgias Family would not tolerate a threat from within, not when the stakes were so high.