LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe - Chapter 371

Chapter 371: Consultation
The soldiers, their faces set in stubborn determination, dismissed Lyerin’s advice. His words had stung, yes, but they weren’t about to let his scorn dictate their actions. After all, how could he, sitting in his calm, calculated superiority, possibly understand the gravity of their struggle?

“What does he know?” Caron muttered as they prepared for yet another hunt. The morning sun was already climbing, casting long shadows over the tribe. “We’ve fought this thing for days. We’ve seen its strength firsthand. Fighting at night… it’s just—”

“Ridiculous,” another soldier finished, tightening the straps on his armor. “He just wants to test us, make us feel small. Maybe he’s even mocking us. We’ve survived this long by trusting our instincts, not by listening to someone who watches from the sidelines.”

A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the group, though some soldiers hesitated. The seed of doubt Lyerin had planted lingered in their minds, but pride—and desperation—spoke louder.

As they set out into the woods, the tension among them was palpable. Every rustle of leaves, every snapping twig, sent shivers down their spines. Their hands gripped their weapons tightly, their eyes scanning the dense undergrowth for any sign of their foe.

Hours passed, and the sun climbed higher, bathing the forest in harsh light. The soldiers moved cautiously, their nerves frayed from days of failed hunts and mounting pressure. And then, it happened.

The beast emerged with a terrifying roar, its massive frame cutting through the foliage like a phantom made of muscle and fury. It moved with a speed that belied its size, its glowing eyes locking onto the soldiers with predatory precision.

The battle was brutal. Every trap they set was dismantled in seconds, their carefully laid plans rendered useless by the creature’s overwhelming power. It struck with lethal efficiency, its claws tearing through their defenses, its movements too swift to counter.

One by one, the soldiers fell back, their confidence crumbling under the relentless assault. Shouts of “Hold the line!” and “Regroup!” echoed through the forest, but they were drowned out by the chaos of the fight.

By the time they managed to retreat, dragging their injured comrades with them, the sun was beginning to set. Their armor was battered, their weapons chipped, and their spirits crushed.

Back at the tribe, the mood was grim. The soldiers sat in a loose circle, their expressions a mixture of frustration, exhaustion, and shame.

“This… this is impossible,” one soldier muttered, staring at the ground. His voice trembled with anger. “It’s like it knew everything we were going to do before we did it.”

“It’s too strong,” another added, cradling a wounded arm. “We can’t beat it like this. We need a new plan.”

“Or maybe,” a quieter voice said, “Lyerin was right.”

The group fell silent, the words hanging heavily in the air. Caron clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “No,” he said firmly. “We don’t need him. We can do this. We just… we just need to try harder. Be smarter.”

But as the soldiers looked at each other, the doubt in their eyes was unmistakable. Lyerin’s words echoed in their minds: “At night… it is vulnerable, sluggish, almost lethargic.”

They didn’t want to believe him, but deep down, they couldn’t deny the truth. Their pride had led them to another crushing defeat, and now, as the sky darkened, they were left with nothing but their wounded egos and the bitter taste of failure.

The next day, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the horizon, a group of soldiers, weary from battle and burdened by reluctant humility, approached Lyerin’s quarters. They exchanged uneasy glances, their pride bruised from the repeated defeats and the realization that the man they had dismissed might hold the key to their survival.

Standing before Lyerin’s dwelling, they hesitated, shuffling nervously as though stepping into the lair of the beast itself. Finally, Caron, the de facto leader of the group, squared his shoulders and stepped forward. With a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

Lyerin answered lazily, leaning against the doorframe with his usual air of detached amusement. His golden eyes, sharp and knowing, scanned their faces with a smirk that was equal parts condescending and curious. “Ah, my brave hunters,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Another triumphant tale of your daylight heroics, perhaps?”

Caron’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm. “We came to talk,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in his body. “About the beast.”

“The beast?” Lyerin repeated, raising an eyebrow as though he’d never heard of such a thing. He stepped back into his quarters, gesturing for them to enter. “Do come in. Let’s discuss your latest failure in the comfort of my humble abode, shall we?”

The soldiers entered hesitantly, their eyes darting around the room as though expecting some hidden trap. Lyerin, for his part, settled into a chair with an air of exaggerated nonchalance, steepling his fingers as he watched them.

“So,” he said, his tone casual but laced with mischief. “What would you like to know about the big, scary beast that keeps handing you your collective backsides?”

Caron’s fists clenched, but he forced himself to stay composed. “We need to know everything,” he said. “Its habits, its weaknesses, why it’s so damn strong. You said it’s vulnerable at night. How do you know that? And why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Lyerin chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “Ah, so many questions. It’s almost like you think I owe you answers.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand as his golden eyes glittered with amusement. “But let’s start with the basics, shall we? The creature you’ve been so valiantly failing to defeat is known as a Noctis Predator. A fascinating specimen, really. Strong, fast, intelligent—and, as its name suggests, primarily active at night. You see, during the day, it’s—well, let’s just say it’s not at its best.”

The soldiers exchanged uncertain glances. One of them, a younger man with a fresh wound on his arm, spoke up hesitantly. “But… if it’s weaker at night, why does it seem so strong during the day?”

“Ah, an excellent question,” Lyerin said, clapping his hands together mockingly. “You see, during the day, the Noctis Predator compensates for its sluggishness by relying on sheer brute force. It’s like a cornered animal, desperate and dangerous. At night, however, it becomes… lethargic. Sluggish. Almost comically easy to predict. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Because you’ve been so brilliantly stubborn about hunting it during the day.”

Caron bristled, his pride warring with his growing realization that Lyerin might be right. “If you knew all this,” he said, his voice tight, “why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Lyerin’s smirk widened. “Because,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension, “I thought it would be obvious. I assumed that a group of supposedly skilled hunters wouldn’t need me to spell out something so basic. But clearly, I overestimated you.”

The soldiers’ faces flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, but they held their tongues. They couldn’t afford to alienate Lyerin—not now.

“Alright,” Caron said, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “We were wrong. We should have listened. But now we’re asking for your help. What do we need to do?”

Lyerin leaned back in his chair, studying them with a look of exaggerated contemplation. “Well,” he said slowly, as though savoring the moment, “since you’re finally willing to admit your own incompetence, I suppose I can share a few tips. For starters, stop relying on brute force. This isn’t a contest of strength—it’s a battle of wits. The Noctis Predator may be strong, but it’s not invincible. Exploit its weaknesses. Use the cover of darkness to your advantage. And for the love of all that’s holy, stop trying to fight it head-on. It’s like watching a pack of mice try to take down a lion. Amusing, but ultimately futile.”

The soldiers nodded reluctantly, their expressions a mixture of grudging respect and lingering resentment.

“And one more thing,” Lyerin added, his tone turning serious for the first time. “If you want to survive, you’ll need to work together. No more egos, no more infighting. This beast doesn’t care about your pride or your grudges. It only cares about one thing—survival. So if you want to beat it, you’ll need to think like it. Adapt. Overcome. Or die trying.”

With that, he leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than babysit a group of incompetent soldiers. But do let me know how your next attempt goes. I’m sure it’ll be… entertaining.”

The soldiers left his quarters in silence, their minds racing with a mixture of anger, shame, and determination. They still didn’t fully trust Lyerin, but they couldn’t deny the truth of his words. If they wanted to defeat the Noctis Predator, they would need to change their approach—and fast.