LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Lyerin wiped the sweat from his brow as he dashed out of the minotaur maze of his Stonehooves Tribe, the echoing sounds of chaos and insectoid screeches fading behind him.

His body hummed with adrenaline, but his mind was already racing ahead to the next challenge.

They would never escape death, and the dimension they were in, one victory only set the stage for the next battle.

As he paused to catch his breath in the shadow of a dilapidated maze, a soft chime echoed in his mind.

Ding!

[ You have destroyed two tribes.

[ Your Stonehooves Tribe Spirit was elevated to level two.

[ Would you like to elevate it to three? ]

A grin slowly spread across Lyerin's face, his sharp eyes flickering with a mix of satisfaction and hunger.

He stood a little straighter, glancing around at the corpses of the bird men, the remnants of what was once a thriving people of civilization in the sky.

Now, it was nothing but a decaying deceased for the powerful and the twisted Pig Orcs.

"Of course," he whispered to himself, his voice carrying a quiet confidence. "Elevate it to three."

For a heartbeat, there was silence, and then the sound that always sent a surge of pride through him rang out again.

Ding!

[ Destroy three participants' groups to level up the spirit to three! ]

The smile on Lyerin's face widened into something far more dangerous.

He had come too far to back down now.

The ascension of his tribe spirit was key, not just for his own power but for the incoming beasts.

With each level, the Stonehooves Tribe would grow stronger, their influence spreading like wildfire across this apocalyptic battlefield.

"Fun fun fun," he murmured to himself, feeling the surge of determination flare inside him. "This is fun…"

As if on cue, the horizon seemed to darken, a tangible shift in the air as distant rumblings of chaos began to reach his ears.

The sky was thick with the scent of ash and blood, and somewhere far off, he could almost sense the earth tremble under the weight of a monstrous horde on the move.

The Pig Orcs.

A fierce, savage tribe of brutal warriors, known for their unstoppable ferocity.

Their tactics were crude but effective—burn everything, kill everything. And now, it seemed, they had set their sights on Lyerin's enemies.

His grin didn't falter as he thought of the fate that awaited the others.

The Araknae and the Brutarians had already met their end.

Now, it was the turn of the others.

---

Far to the east, the Olerai, a once-proud race of nature-bound warriors, were being decimated.

The Greenveil Family, led by Elandra Leafshadow, had taken refuge deep within the ancient forests, their connection to the earth thought to be their salvation. But the Pig Orcs, with their relentless assault, had turned that sanctuary into a deathtrap.

Flames licked the treetops as the Olerai warriors fell one by one, their bodies trampled beneath the iron boots of the Pig Orcs.

Elandra Leafshadow, her emerald eyes wide with terror, could only watch in helpless despair as her people were slaughtered.

The great trees that had once protected her family groaned and split, crashing down into the burning forest floor.

With a final scream of rage, Elandra summoned the last of her power, sending a wave of vines and thorns to entangle her enemies. But it was too little, too late.

A single-handed, brutish Pig Orc tore through the defenses, its massive axe cleaving through the vines like they were nothing more than paper.

With a sickening crunch, the blade found Elandra's chest, silencing her forever.

The Greenveil Family was no more.

---

To the north, the Shadowclaw Syndicate, led by Nerith Shadowfang, had always thrived in the darkness.

The Seraphians were masters of stealth and subterfuge, their black wings allowing them to move unseen, striking from the shadows with deadly precision. But against the Pig Orcs, stealth was no longer an option.

The brutal onslaught had driven them out into the open, forcing them to confront their enemies head-on.

Nerith, his obsidian wings unfurled, stood at the forefront of his remaining forces, his cold, calculating eyes scanning the battlefield.

He had thought himself untouchable, his Syndicate's methods too elusive to be caught in such a blunt attack. But the Pig Orcs had overwhelmed them, pushing them out of their carefully laid traps, burning their hideouts to the ground.

"Cowards," Nerith spat, watching as his people scattered, their wings clipped, their bodies torn apart.

He flared his wings, trying to rise above the chaos, but the relentless pursuit of the Pig Orcs grounded him.

They were coming from all sides, their bloodthirsty roars filling the air as they closed in.

For the first time in his life, Nerith Shadowfang felt fear. But it was fleeting.

His end came swiftly—a spear through the heart from a Pig Orc warrior who barely spared a glance as his body fell lifeless to the ground.

The Shadowclaw Syndicate was no more.

---

And then there were the Zygrons.

Far below the waves, the Deepwater Legion, led by Sirena Deepwater, had believed they were safe in the depths of the ocean.

The Zygrons were a proud race, their dominion over the sea unmatched. But even the depths of the ocean could not protect them from the wrath of the Pig Orcs.

In a frenzy of violence, the Pig Orcs had found a way to drive their forces into the underwater city, their weapons coated with a foul magic that allowed them to breathe and move beneath the waves.

Sirena, her sapphire scales gleaming in the dark waters, had fought valiantly alongside her legion, her trident flashing with deadly precision as she speared Pig Orc after Pig Orc.

But there were too many of them.

The waters were thick with blood, the once beautiful coral reefs now nothing more than a graveyard of bones and shattered shells.

Sirena watched in horror as her people were slaughtered, their bodies sinking into the depths, lifeless and cold.

A massive Pig Orc, its skin a sickly green, charged at her with a roar, its war hammer raised high.

Sirena met its attack head-on, her trident clashing with the hammer in a violent spark of magic and steel. But the Pig Orc was too strong, its brutal strength overwhelming her.

With a final, crushing blow, the hammer struck Sirena's chest, shattering her armor and sending her spiraling into the abyss.

The Deepwater Legion was no more.

---

Lyerin stood back on the Stonehooves Tribe, watching the distant smoke rising from the east, the north, and even the sea in this survival game.

The Pig Orcs were efficient, he had to give them that.

They had done his work for him, wiping out his competitors with terrifying ease.

"With the level two talent because of the Stonehooves Tribe level two Spirit, the Pig Orcs gained the rage of Minotaur where it would become twice stronger and bigger once they went back up. So, this is not a surprise."

He felt the stone around his neck pulse with power, his connection to the Stonehooves Tribe Spirit growing stronger with each victory.

The tribe's strength was tied to the destruction of its enemies, and with each group that fell, the spirit within him grew more potent.

Ding!

[ The Stonehooves Tribe Spirit has been elevated to level three. ]

Lyerin's grin returned as he felt the surge of power course through him.

The Pig Orcs may have been the ones to carry out the dirty work, but it was Lyerin who would reap the rewards.

He turned away from the smoke and the distant sounds of battle, his mind already planning his next move.

With a final glance at the burning horizon, Lyerin whispered to himself, "Let's call the Shuras now, I am sure that they already picked it up!"