LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Unconfirmed chaos
Suddenly, the leader handed a scroll to Lyerin, who received it with a calm neutral look. Yet as soon as he saw the scroll, his eyes widened in shock.

This tribe—it couldn’t be.

His mind began to recollect the memories back to the stories he had heard, stories of kingdoms that destroyed this Kingdom to the ground.

It was because the Borgias Family had reared and enslaved a tribe crucial to attaining the level of Grand Wizard.

This tribe’s blood was said to clear and refine a wizard’s mind, making breakthroughs to the next level possible.

The power and business that bloomed from this control had caused a devastating shift in the kingdom.

When the truth spread, the kingdom was razed to the ground by others, and the Borgias family had fled, disappearing to places unknown.

The tribe was known as the Horned Devil Tribe, consisting of strong Devil Horned Beasts with precious blood.

The enlightenment hit Lyerin hard, but he kept his composure, accepting the scroll without a word. He closed his eyes, refusing to read it, and began his transformation.

As he focused on the scroll’s power, he felt his body start to change. His skin tingled and then ditched as coarse hair sprouted. His muscles shifted and grew, making him taller and more imposing. His face elongated, forming a snout with sharp teeth, and two large, curling horns emerged from his forehead. His hands and feet became clawed, his fingers elongating and thickening, and a short, muscular tail sprouted from his back.

The transformation was both painful and exhilarating, as if filling Lyerin with a strange, primal power.

The leader and the others watched in shock as Lyerin transformed into a humanoid goat-like creature.

Their eyes widened, jaws dropped, and they exchanged nervous glances.

The sight was both terrifying and awe-inspiring, and the leader had to steady himself before speaking.

“This is… incredible,” he stammered, his voice shaky. “The Borgias Family’s reputation is well deserved.”

The other men, equally stunned, nodded in agreement but kept their thoughts to themselves.

They had expected something impressive from someone associated with the Borgias, but witnessing such a transformation firsthand was another matter entirely.

Lyerin, now fully transformed, felt a new strength coursing through his veins. His senses were heightened, his muscles coiled and ready. He could smell the fear and awe in the men around him, and it gave him a strange sense of satisfaction.

Despite the shock, he remained composed, taking in the reactions of his companions.

Not long, the leader and the others finished their transformation too.

The leader cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “We must proceed with caution. Our mission remains the same. Observe the tribe, blend in, and avoid detection at all costs. If we’re found out, our lives are forfeit.”

The men nodded, steeling themselves for the task ahead.

The transformation scroll had given them the means to infiltrate the tribe, but the real challenge lay in maintaining their cover.

Suddenly, like a storm breaking without warning, Lyerin lunged at the leader. His eyes gleamed with a wild intensity, his muscles coiling and uncoiling like springs as he launched his attack.

The leader staggered backward, caught completely off guard.

“What in the—” the leader started, but his words were cut short as Lyerin’s head collided with his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Attack each other!” Lyerin roared, his voice echoing through the trees. “Fight like there’s no tomorrow, or we will all die! They are coming!”

The group stared at him, shock and confusion plastered on their faces.

The leader, scrambling to his feet, shouted, “What is the meaning of this, Lyerin?”

But Lyerin was beyond reason. He lowered his head, his curved horns gleaming in the moonlight, and charged again. “I fight to have the women,” he bellowed, his voice a savage growl. “I will have them all alone, for myself!”

The leader and the others exchanged bewildered glances, the weight of Lyerin’s words sinking in.

He is a Borgias family member—he must have known something. Even though this looked like madness.

“Do it!” Lyerin’s voice thundered again. “Or we all die here tonight if they come!”

Hearing this, the atmosphere became tense, each man wrestling with the decision of why he was doing this. But looking at Lyerin’s eyes with fear on it, their survival instincts overrode reason.

One by one, they squared off, their horns lowering, muscles tensing for the fight.

The first to act was a burly man named Harken.

Graaaa!!

With a guttural shout, he charged at the nearest fighter, their horns clashing with a deafening ring. It was as if the forest itself held its breath, the night air vibrating with the sound of battle.

Lyerin moved through the chaos like a whirlwind, his horns and hooves a blur of deadly precision. He was a force of nature, his movements precise and deadly. He disarmed one opponent with a swift kick to the chest, sending the man sprawling into the dirt.

Another he felled with a brutal headbutt, leaving him gasping for air on the forest floor.

“Fight!” Lyerin shouted, his voice a whip cracking through the night. “Fight and let me prove that all the women are mine!”

The group had transformed into creatures driven by primal survival.

Their humanoid forms morphed, revealing long, curved horns—like ibex or demonic goats. Their eyes glowed with an otherworldly fire, their movements feral and vicious.

One of them, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, swung his horned head at Lyerin.

Lyerin ducked, the horns slicing the air just above him. He retaliated with a swift uppercut of his own horns, driving them into the man’s ribs, followed by a knee to the chest that sent the man crumpling to the ground.

The forest floor became a battlefield, littered with fallen warriors and streaked with blood. Lyerin was relentless, his attacks unyielding. He fought with the precision and ferocity of someone who had seen countless battles and emerged victorious from them all.

A young fighter, barely more than a boy, lunged at Lyerin with a wild cry. Lyerin sidestepped, grabbing the boy’s horn and twisting it until the boy fell to the ground. He shoved the boy aside, his focus already shifting to the next opponent.

The leader, regaining his footing, attempted to rally the remaining fighters. “Hold your ground!” he shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the sounds of combat.

Lyerin’s hooves flashed again, cutting down another adversary to the steep ground.

Meanwhile, while they were fighting each other like madmen, up an uphill mountain steep, there were shadows that emerged from the other side of the mountain.