LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe - Chapter 375

Chapter 375: New beast
Lyerin’s smile widened as he watched the soldiers squirm in the silence, their fear and uncertainty practically oozing from their expressions. He tilted his head slightly, golden eyes gleaming with mischief. “Would you like a clue about your new adversary?” he asked casually, his voice lilting with an almost playful mockery.

The soldiers stiffened, their eyes darting to one another. They didn’t dare answer immediately, unsure if his offer was genuine or another one of his manipulations. But before anyone could muster the courage to speak, Lyerin raised a hand, silencing them with a single graceful gesture.

“No need to answer,” he said smoothly, the corners of his mouth curling upward as if amused by their hesitation. “Because I already know you’ll want to hear what I have to say. Let’s not pretend otherwise. You’ve stumbled into something far beyond your understanding, and frankly, it’s laughable how unprepared you all are. But lucky for you,” he added, his voice dropping to a lower, more ominous tone, “I’m feeling generous tonight.”

He leaned back against the nearest surface, his posture as casual as ever, but his words carried the weight of someone utterly in control. “Let me explain,” he began, his voice now taking on a lecturing tone, “based on the delightful descriptions you’ve provided me. This new beast of yours… it’s no ordinary predator. In fact, it’s something of a rarity, even in worlds like this one. If you thought your first quarry was a challenge, well, this one makes it look like a mere house pet.”

The soldiers watched him intently, their faces a mix of dread and reluctant fascination. Lyerin’s smile only widened as he continued, his words deliberate, almost theatrical. “From what you’ve told me, its size alone would classify it as an apex predator. But size isn’t what makes it dangerous. No, the real threat lies in its intelligence and adaptability. You mentioned its movements—quick, precise, almost mechanical in their efficiency. That tells me it’s not just hunting for survival; it’s hunting with purpose. It knows its prey, studies its habits, and strikes where it’s weakest.”

He began pacing slowly, his voice weaving a tapestry of information that seemed to trap the soldiers in their own realization. “Its ability to blend into its surroundings, to move silently despite its size—that’s a skill honed through generations of survival. This is no brute force creature relying solely on its strength. It’s a calculated killer, one that understands the art of the hunt far better than any of you.”

Lyerin paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. “And the shadows you described, the way they seemed to move with it… that’s not a trick of the light. That’s a natural camouflage, a symbiotic relationship between the beast and the environment. The darkness isn’t just hiding it—it’s part of it. You’re not fighting a singular entity; you’re fighting something that’s become one with the night itself.”

He turned to face them fully now, his expression sharpening. “And then there’s its roar. Ah, yes, the roar you so vividly described. That wasn’t just a sound to intimidate; that was a territorial declaration. It was letting you—and every other living creature—know that it’s the king of this domain. It doesn’t fear you. It doesn’t see you as competition. In fact…” He smirked, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. “I’d wager it finds you amusing. Insignificant nuisances, scurrying about in its territory like blind mice.”

The soldiers shifted uncomfortably, their faces pale as Lyerin’s analysis tore through whatever fragile confidence they had left. But he wasn’t done yet.

“And finally,” he said, his voice softening, though his words still carried a razor-sharp edge, “there’s the timing of its attack. You’ve been hunting at night, as I suggested. Smart move. But this beast, it doesn’t adhere to simple patterns. It doesn’t need to be bound by the cycle of day and night. It chooses when to hunt. And when it does, it doesn’t just go after the weakest prey—it goes after what challenges it most. Do you understand what that means?” He let the question hang in the air for a moment, his golden eyes glinting with a dangerous light.

“It means it chose to show itself to you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, but carrying the weight of absolute certainty. “It wasn’t by chance that you saw it. It wanted you to. It wanted to test you, to see if you were worth its time. And judging by the fact that it left you alive…” He chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Well, I think you know what that means.”

The soldiers were deathly silent now, their earlier bravado utterly extinguished. Lyerin’s smile widened, a predator savoring the fear of its prey. “So, my dear soldiers,” he concluded, spreading his arms in a mock gesture of generosity, “there’s your clue. A beast like this doesn’t just live in the shadows—it is the shadows. And if you want to stand even the slightest chance against it… well, let’s just say you’ll need far more than brute strength and numbers.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Now then, are you ready to admit how woefully out of your depth you are? Or shall we continue this delightful game of yours until there’s nothing left of you but regret?”

Lyerin raised an eyebrow at the soldier who had dared to step forward. The man’s voice was steady, though his trembling hands betrayed the courage it had taken to ask. “Chief,” the soldier said, his tone respectful but firm, “how do we deal with this beast? You seem to know more than you’ve let on.”

For the briefest moment, Lyerin looked genuinely taken aback, his golden eyes narrowing as he studied the soldier. A slow, almost amused smile crept across his face. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice laced with mock surprise, “it seems there’s still a sliver of spine left among you. Color me impressed.” He took a step closer, the air around him heavy with authority. “Very well. Since you’ve asked so nicely, I’ll tell you. But let me be clear—what I’m about to say will not be easy to execute. If you fail, it won’t be the beast’s fault. It’ll be yours.”

The soldiers straightened, their attention fixed entirely on him. Lyerin’s voice lowered, taking on a tone of deliberate precision. “To deal with a creature like this, you first need to stop thinking of it as a mere beast. It is not. This predator operates on instincts that far surpass your simple understanding. It’s a being of the night, one that thrives in shadows and moves with purpose. If you want to defeat it, you must outthink it, outmaneuver it, and most importantly—outlast it.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. “The first step,” he said, “is understanding its patterns. From what you’ve described, it’s territorial. That means it has a home, a den, or at the very least, a preferred hunting ground. But don’t expect it to stay in one place for long. It’s clever, and it knows you’re hunting it. That’s why you failed last night. It was already one step ahead of you, anticipating your every move.”

Lyerin began pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. “To catch it, you need to disrupt its patterns. Think about the environment—it uses the terrain to its advantage, so you must learn to do the same. Set traps, yes, but not just any traps. They must be precise, hidden, and, above all, designed to limit its mobility. Force it into a corner where its speed and agility mean nothing.”

He stopped and turned to face them, his golden eyes glinting in the firelight. “Now, about the traps. You’ll need something stronger than ropes or wooden stakes. This creature has the strength to tear through anything less than reinforced steel. Use the strongest materials you can find—chains, spikes, nets laced with mana-infused fibers. And position them in places it wouldn’t expect. Think like the predator. Where would it least expect an ambush? That’s where you strike.”

One of the soldiers hesitantly raised a hand. “But, Chief, how do we bait it? It’s too smart to fall for ordinary lures.”

Lyerin’s smile widened, his amusement evident. “Ah, an excellent question. You’re learning.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “This creature doesn’t hunt for food alone. It hunts for the thrill, for the challenge. To bait it, you must become the challenge. Create a scenario where it believes it has the upper hand—a weakness it can exploit, a mistake it can capitalize on. But make no mistake, this is a dangerous game. If you falter for even a moment, it will turn your bait into its meal.”

He straightened, his gaze sweeping over the group. “And one more thing. This creature is most vulnerable in moments of overconfidence. When it believes it has already won, that is when you strike. Hit it hard, hit it fast, and leave no room for escape. It will fight back, of course, but that’s where your numbers come in. Overwhelm it with coordinated attacks. Surround it, confuse it, and wear it down until it has no strength left to resist.”

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier confidence replaced with a mix of fear and determination. Lyerin smirked, clearly enjoying their discomfort. “Do you see now why you failed? You’ve been treating this as a simple hunt, but it’s not. This is a battle of wits, a war of attrition. If you’re not willing to think, to plan, and to adapt, then you might as well march into its den and offer yourselves as sacrifices.”

He stepped back, his voice taking on a lighter, almost mocking tone. “But don’t worry. You’ve got me, after all. And while I find your struggles endlessly amusing, I suppose I’d rather see you succeed. If only to prove that even the most hopeless of fools can learn, given enough time and pressure.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Now go. You have work to do. And remember—don’t waste my advice. I won’t repeat myself.”