LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Don’t have a choice
The medieval Ibexes, now part of the Demon Horned Tribe, stood in a terrified huddle.

Their newly transformed bodies felt alien and unwieldy.

The leader of the Demon Ibex Clan warriors of Demon Horned Tribe, the shaman, and their warriors surrounded them, their laughter ringing out cruelly across the steep mountainside.

“It was really amusing,” the shaman sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. “They thought they could fool us. They thought they could become one of us without paying the price.”

The leader of the tribe chuckled darkly. “Their fight was impressive, I’ll give them that. It almost looked real. But they made a fatal mistake: wild Ibexes don’t speak coherently, and these impostors talked far too well.”

The warriors joined in the mocking laughter, their voices echoing through the night. “What a show they put on!” one of them jeered. “A real battle of life and death. But it’s too bad they were just pretending.”

The medieval Ibexes shivered under the onslaught of derision, their fear mounting. The leader’s grin widened, revealing sharp, predatory teeth. “You are now part of our tribe, yes,” he said, “but you can still transform back to your human forms. The only catch? You’ll die if you do! Hahaha!”

Their laughter grew louder, more maniacal. “And as for your precious females,” another warrior taunted, “if you want them, you’ll have to defeat them. But good luck with that. Our women know the Totem Beast moves! You’d stand no chance! Hahahaha!”

One by one, the kingdom Ibexes began to question their fate, their voices trembling with fear. “How long will this… slavery last?” one of them asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” another added, his eyes wide with terror. “How long until we can be free?”

The shaman’s smile was cold and cruel. “Slavery? Oh, this isn’t slavery. This is your new life. Forever.”

Hearing this, Lyerin finally spoke, his voice cutting through the air with cold certainty. “It will take forever.”

The shock among the kingdom Ibexes was immediate and extreme. They recoiled as if struck, their eyes wide with horror. “Forever? No, it can’t be!” one of them cried, his voice breaking.

Another one fell to his knees, his eyes filling with tears. “I’d rather die as a human than live another day as a filthy beast!”

Lyerin watched them impassively, his face a mask of calm. He squinted slightly, his eyes closing as if in contemplation. He heard the sickening sound of flesh tearing and bones crunching, the despair of his companions manifesting in their actions.

The leader of the Demon Horned Clan, the shaman, and the warriors continued to mock them, their laughter a cruel symphony in the night.

“I thought you all wanted to join our tribe, why must you kill yourselves!?” the shaman intoned, his voice a blend of mockery and finality.

One of them whispered, his voice a broken echo. “I’d rather die…”

Lyerin stood amidst the laughter of the Demon Horned Tribe, his eyes closed, absorbing the sounds of the night.

Suddenly, another grotesque tearing sound of flesh being ripped apart reached his ears. He opened his eyes to a gruesome sight: his companions, the kingdom Ibexes, had reverted to their human forms.

And now, their bodies lay in disarray, flesh scattered, lifeless. The transformation had been their death sentence.

A sigh escaped Lyerin’s lips. He whispered to himself, his voice tinged with melancholy wisdom, “Humans on Earth don’t care about becoming other races or maybe some do. But here, in this magical world, the conflicts with other races have forged a different pride. They cling to their humanity so fiercely that they would rather die than live as something else. It’s a pride that leads to war, and sometimes, to the taking of one’s own life.”

The shaman, the leader Ibex, and the warriors erupted into even harsher laughter, their amusement at the demise of the medieval humans knowing no bounds.

“Look at them,” the leader sneered, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “Why are humans so proud of themselves? What’s so special about being human?”

“Why do they hate becoming non-human so much?” another warrior mocked, his voice dripping with scorn. “It’s pathetic!”

“They think they’re better than us,” the shaman added with a cold, mirthless chuckle. “They’d rather die than accept a new form. How foolish!”

Their ridicule grew louder, more biting, each word a stab at the dignity of Lyerin and his deceased companions.

Lyerin stood there and remained silent, his expression calm and unwavering amidst the verbal onslaught as he couldn’t help but think of his companion that he just met earlier.

Finally, Lyerin spoke, his voice cutting through the derision like a blade. “There’s nothing to understand. We humans simply find that living and dying as a human being preserves our dignity.”

The shaman, the leader Ibex, and the warriors fell silent, their laughter abruptly ceasing.

They stared at Lyerin with incredulous eyes, their faces contorted in disbelief and confusion.

How could this human still be standing, still maintain his composure, while his companions had succumbed to despair and their own death?

“Why are you still standing?” the leader Ibex demanded, his voice filled with astonishment. “Why haven’t you taken your life like your companions?”

Lyerin met their incredulous gazes with an unflinching stare.

He didn’t care about their confusion or their attempts to break his spirit. His voice remained calm as he asked, “Can you give me a proper way to become a human again, whenever I want to?”

The shaman, the leader Ibex, and the warriors stood frozen, their expressions a mix of disbelief and irritation. Lyerin’s calm demand had cut through their mocking laughter, leaving them momentarily stunned.

This human, who had just witnessed the brutal deaths of his companions, now had the audacity to ask them for a way to revert back to his human form.

“You dare to question us?” the leader Ibex sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Who do you think you are?”

“Why would we ever help you?” one of the warriors added, his eyes narrowing with disdain. “You are in no position to make demands.”

Another warrior chimed in, his tone mocking. “Do you think we owe you anything? You are nothing here.”

The shaman stepped forward, his eyes cold and unyielding. “It doesn’t exist,” he stated flatly, his voice echoing with finality.

But Lyerin remained unfazed. He met the shaman’s gaze with a steady, unwavering stare. “I know it exists,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to lie. I want it now.”

The shaman’s eyes flickered with anger, and the leader Ibex growled, his frustration mounting. “Do you want to die now?” he demanded, his voice rising with barely controlled fury. “Is that what you’re asking for?”

The other warriors muttered angrily among themselves, their hostility palpable. But Lyerin didn’t flinch. His voice, calm and resolute, cut through their indignation like a knife.

“You all don’t have a choice on it,” he said simply, his eyes never leaving the shaman’s.