LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe - Chapter 383

Chapter 383: Taken Mana Cores
As the last echoes of the battlefield faded into the night, the soldiers stood frozen in place, their breaths still heavy with the tension of what they had just witnessed. Before them, the Pig Orcs began to move, their massive, hulking forms illuminated faintly by the moonlight. Slowly, methodically, and with an eerie sense of purpose, they began to leave the scene.

The ground beneath them barely trembled now as their heavy footsteps carried them away, though each step seemed deliberate and full of restrained power. The Pig Orcs moved with a strange grace that belied their brutish appearance—silent, disciplined, almost ceremonial. Their towering bodies cast long shadows across the earth, and the glow from their enchanted weapons flickered like dying embers.

The soldiers, still in shock from the battle, watched in awe. None of them dared to speak at first, as if breaking the silence would somehow disturb the moment. Slowly, one soldier leaned toward another and whispered, “Do you see how they move? It’s… it’s not just brute strength. They’re like a perfectly trained army.”

Another nodded, his eyes wide. “It’s like they don’t just fight together—they think together. Look at how they leave… it’s as if they’re marching back into a war that never ends for them.”

The Pig Orcs, without a single glance back, continued their slow exodus. Their massive forms moved in perfect unison, their heads held high, their backs straight, their weapons resting easily in their hands. Despite the carnage they had left behind and the ferocity with which they had fought, their departure felt neither triumphant nor celebratory. Instead, it carried a somber weight, as if they were returning to an eternal duty rather than a place of rest.

One by one, they disappeared into the darkness, their glowing weapons the last traces of their presence before even those faded from sight. Their silence was haunting; no shouts of victory, no chants, no boasts. Just the rhythmic sound of their retreating footsteps.

A younger soldier, unable to contain his thoughts, finally spoke up. “Why do they fight like that? Like… like they don’t even care about winning or losing. They just… do it. Like it’s what they were born for.”

An older soldier shook his head, his face grim. “Because they probably don’t see it as a choice. Look at them—they’re not like us. Whatever they are, wherever they came from… they’re something else. Something made for this.”

Another soldier, his voice hushed with reverence, added, “They didn’t even look at us. Not once. Like we weren’t even there. Like we’re not worth noticing.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. The soldiers continued to watch the horizon where the last of the Pig Orcs had vanished, their minds racing with questions they couldn’t answer. For all their awe and respect, an unsettling fear began to creep into their hearts. These creatures were not just warriors—they were something far greater, far more alien, than they had ever encountered.

Finally, one soldier, his voice low and almost reverent, broke the silence. “Do you think… do you think this is what Lyerin sees every day? These monsters… his monsters?”

The question sent a chill through the group. They exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing more. Instead, they turned their eyes back to the empty battlefield, where the remnants of the colossal worm lay as a stark reminder of the power they had just witnessed.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, the soldiers reluctantly turned back toward their camp. Their footsteps felt heavy, their thoughts even heavier. Though they had survived the night, they couldn’t shake the feeling that they had been mere spectators to something far beyond their understanding.

Behind them, the battlefield lay quiet once more, as if the Pig Orcs had never been there.

As the soldiers trudged back toward their camp, the thought of the Pig Orcs lingered heavily in their minds. Each of them replayed the battle over and over in their heads—the sheer strength, precision, and otherworldly coordination of the Pig Orcs. One soldier finally broke the silence, his voice low and filled with awe.

“How strong do you think they are compared to us?” he muttered, almost to himself.

Another soldier scoffed lightly, though the sound carried no humor. “Compared to us? They’re leagues beyond anything we could ever hope to be. Did you see the way they fought? It was like… like they weren’t even trying, and yet they crushed that thing.”

“It wasn’t just strength,” a third soldier interjected. “It was… everything. Strategy, skill, discipline. They’re not like us. They’re monsters, plain and simple.”

The group fell into a heavy silence again, their footsteps dragging as the weight of their realization settled in. Finally, one soldier let out a long, weary sigh. “Monsters… yeah. That’s what they are. And here we are, struggling to take down a single beast while they’re out there taking on something ten times its size without even breaking a sweat.”

Another soldier grimaced, shaking his head. “Monsters or not, we need what they’re taking for granted.”

The comment hung in the air for a moment before someone else spoke up. “Speaking of that…” His tone turned hesitant, almost nervous. “We should check the corpses of the beasts. Maybe we can salvage something, anything, from what the Pig Orcs left behind.”

Their eyes widened as the thought sank in. “Yeah,” one said quickly, his voice hopeful for the first time in hours. “If we can find even one mana core, we might still have a chance to leave this place. It’s worth a shot, right?”

With renewed purpose, they turned back toward the battlefield, retracing their steps through the carnage. The air was thick with the lingering scent of blood and earth, the ground littered with the remains of their battles. They approached the first corpse cautiously, half-expecting the Pig Orcs to reappear.

“Check the chest,” one soldier directed as they surrounded the massive, fallen beast. Another soldier moved in, pulling out a blade to cut through the creature’s tough hide. His hands worked quickly, the others watching anxiously as he searched for the mana core.

But when he reached the cavity where the core should have been, his hands froze. He turned back to the group, his face pale. “It’s… gone.”

“Gone?” another soldier echoed, disbelief lacing his voice. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” the first soldier said, shaking his head. “There’s nothing here. It’s completely stripped out.”

Panic began to ripple through the group as they hurried to check the other fallen beasts. One after another, they found the same result: the mana cores were missing.

“They took them,” one soldier finally said, his voice trembling with anger and fear. “The Pig Orcs… they took all the cores!”

A heavy silence descended over them as the realization struck. Without the mana cores, they couldn’t power the portal. And without the portal, they were trapped in this place.

“So… what do we do now?” someone whispered, their voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts.

Another soldier clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. “We can’t fight them for the cores. You saw what they did to that worm! If we go up against them, we’re dead.”

“But if we don’t have the cores, we’re stuck here,” another argued, his voice rising in desperation. “We need to figure out something!”

One soldier rubbed his temples, his expression grim. “We have to talk to Lyerin. He’s the only one who might have a solution. He sent those Pig Orcs, didn’t he? Maybe he knows what they’re doing with the cores.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, none of them particularly eager to face Lyerin again, especially after realizing how little power they truly had in this world compared to him. But as the weight of their predicament pressed down on them, they knew they had no choice.

“Fine,” one soldier said finally, his voice filled with reluctant determination. “We’ll go back and ask him. But if he doesn’t have an answer…” He trailed off, the unspoken implications clear to everyone.

With heavy hearts and uncertain steps, the soldiers turned away from the battlefield, leaving the hollow corpses of the beasts behind.

As they trudged back to their camp, their collective silence grew heavier with each step. The weight of their situation bore down on them, each soldier lost in their own swirling thoughts. It was only a matter of time before someone broke the oppressive quiet.

“What if Lyerin says it’s not his responsibility?” one soldier asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper. The question sent an immediate ripple of unease through the group.

Another soldier, walking at the front of the group, stopped abruptly and turned back, his brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”

The first soldier hesitated, glancing at the others for support before speaking again. “I’m just saying… he might not care. He’s made it clear before that we’re not his problem. What if he just shrugs and says, ‘Figure it out yourselves’?”

A murmur of agreement spread through the group as the soldiers exchanged nervous glances.

“He did say that his deal with us was done,” another soldier pointed out, his tone grim. “The portal, the tribe—he already gave us what we needed. He doesn’t owe us anything anymore.”

“But he’s the one who sent those Pig Orcs,” a younger soldier argued, his voice tinged with frustration. “Why would he send them here if it wasn’t connected to us? Surely he knows what’s going on!”

“Maybe,” the older soldier replied cautiously. “But what if it was just for his own reasons? Lyerin doesn’t strike me as the type to explain himself to anyone, let alone us.”

The group fell into an uneasy silence again as they walked, each of them turning the question over in their minds. Finally, one soldier let out an exasperated sigh, his voice laced with anger and desperation.

“So what do we do if he does say it’s not his problem? Do we just sit here and rot? Do we fight the Pig Orcs for the mana cores, knowing they’ll kill us? Or do we just… give up?”

“Giving up isn’t an option,” another soldier snapped, his tone sharp. “We’ve come too far for that. If Lyerin won’t help us, we’ll find another way.”

“Another way?” someone else echoed skeptically. “Like what? Every beast in this area has either been killed or chased off by those Pig Orcs. There’s nothing left for us to hunt. And without mana cores, we can’t power the portal. So tell me, genius—what’s this ‘other way’ you’re thinking of?”

The soldier didn’t reply, his jaw tightening as he stared at the ground.

“Exactly,” the skeptic continued, his voice growing louder. “There isn’t another way. We’re completely dependent on Lyerin, whether we like it or not. If he decides we’re not worth his time…” He trailed off, the implications of his words hanging heavily in the air.

“Then we’ll make him care,” another soldier said suddenly, his voice firm and resolute.

The group turned to look at him, their expressions a mix of confusion and curiosity.

“Make him care?” one soldier repeated, frowning. “How do you plan to do that?”

“I don’t know yet,” the resolute soldier admitted. “But if he’s the only one who can help us, then we’ll find a way to make him listen. We’ll appeal to his logic, or his sense of pride, or whatever it takes. We’ll remind him that we’re his allies—or at least, that we’re useful to him.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” another soldier asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

“Then we’ll deal with that when it happens,” the resolute soldier replied, his tone unwavering. “But for now, we focus on what we can do. And that means talking to Lyerin and figuring out what he knows about those mana cores.”

The group fell silent again, but this time, the atmosphere was slightly less heavy. While the uncertainty still loomed over them, there was a spark of determination in their hearts—a small but vital reminder that they still had some agency in this strange and unforgiving world.

“Alright,” one soldier said finally, his voice steady. “Let’s go. The sooner we talk to him, the sooner we can figure out our next move.”

With that, the group picked up their pace, their footsteps growing more purposeful as they made their way back to the tribe. But even as they marched, the lingering question hung in the back of their minds: What if Lyerin really says it’s not his responsibility?