LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Meanwhile, the Skyclaw Brotherhood was locked in a desperate fight against the unrelenting wave of Pig Orcs.

Their wings flapped furiously as they darted through the maze, trying to put distance between themselves and the monstrous Minotaur.

Flap! Flap! Flap!

The air was thick with the sounds of battle—metal clanging, magic crackling, and the fierce grunts of the Pig Orcs as they lunged forward, massive axes swinging through the air.

Velros led his warriors, casting wind magic that made them faster than the Minotaur, but the enemy Pig Orcs seemingly have an endless number and made them tired, causing his brothers to fall one by one.

Velros could see it—the slow, painful decline of his Skyclaw Brotherhood.

"Don't give up!"

He tried to raise their morale.

"We will get through this and win this event!" he added.

Suddenly, his eyes would flicker as he saw one of his brothers fall down.

Talon, one of his closest comrades, was dragged to the ground, and his wings were immediately shredded by a Pig Orc's bladed weapons.

Velros clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to turn back as Talon's cries were silenced by the brutal swing of an Orc's axe.

"HEEELLLPP–"

His heart pounded, but strangely, his mind, slowly, began to drift, like it was slowly detaching itself from the chaos around him.

It was as though time itself had slowed, and his thoughts turned backward, to the origins of the Skyclaw Brotherhood.

Velros could still remember the first day they had gathered, a ragtag group of winged warriors, united by nothing more than a shared desire to rise above the mediocrity that plagued their kind.

The Brotherhood was born in the skies above their homeland, the wind in their faces and their hearts filled with fire.

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Velros had been young then, a fierce and determined warrior, and it hadn't taken long for him to gather the strongest among them.

They were outcasts, rebels, those who believed the sky held no limits.

They believe that they could reach anything in sky as long as they believed them.

In those early days, they competed against rival brotherhoods in the sky tournaments of their planet.

The competitions were brutal and intense, but the Skyclaw Brotherhood had an edge—speed, precision, and an unyielding bond.

Velros led them to victory after victory.

First, they conquered the small village competitions, known as Barangays, where their reputation began to spread like wildfire.

They defeated every brotherhood, no matter how fierce the competition.

As they grew stronger, their ambitions grew with them.

They went from Barangay champions to competing at the Municipal level, where the stakes were higher, and the opponents deadlier. But the Skyclaw Brotherhood, with their seamless coordination and unmatched aerial skills, triumphed.

Their victories were swift and decisive, and Velros quickly became a legend among the winged people.

From Municipal, they soared to Provincial and then City tournaments.

Each battle was harder than the last, but each victory solidified their position as the strongest brotherhood in their world.

Velros led them with unwavering confidence, knowing they were destined for greatness. And soon, their fame reached beyond the skies of their city to the capital of their planet.

The Skyclaw Brotherhood entered the planetary tournaments, where the best fighters from every region gathered.

It was here that they faced their toughest battles, but they never faltered.

They fought with everything they had, pushing themselves beyond their limits.

When they emerged victorious, their wings bloodied but unbroken, the entire world had to acknowledge them as the greatest warriors of their race.

Their triumphs didn't end there. Velros had led them from a small, rebellious faction into an unstoppable force.

Their victories caught the attention of the rulers of the planet and beyond.

It wasn't long before they were chosen to participate in the ultimate challenge—the survival event organized by the Six-Handed Shura race, beings of a ruined magical world, powerful and feared across the cosmos.

This event was not just a tournament—it was a test of strength, strategy, and survival against impossible odds.

The Skyclaw Brotherhood had trained for this moment.

They had faced everything their world had thrown at them, and they believed they were ready for whatever the Shura race could throw at them.

Velros knew this was their chance to prove, not just to their people, but to the universe, that they were the best. And so, they had entered the maze, confident, determined, and ready to face any challenge.

But now, in the twisted corridors of this maze, chased by a Minotaur that seemed to grow more monstrous with every moment, Velros was beginning to feel doubt gnaw at the edges of his mind.

His brothers were dying, one by one, and for the first time, the invincible Skyclaw Brotherhood seemed powerless.

The Minotaur's roars echoed through the maze, its presence a constant reminder of the overwhelming power they faced.

Velros blinked, shaking his head as the present came crashing back into focus.

Another of his comrades fell to the ground with a sickening thud, crushed beneath the Minotaur's club.

His wings crumpled, and his body lay motionless immediately to the ground beside theaze wall.

Velros's heart twisted, but something inside him refused to give in to the despair creeping up on him.

Why were they falling like this?

How had they come so far, only to be hunted like prey in this maze?

The faces of his fallen brothers flashed in his mind—Talon, Zark, Rylin—they had all fought so hard to be here. And for what?

To die in this cursed place?

No.

He clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing as a fire began to burn inside him again.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

They weren't supposed to fall like this.

Sky is the limit!

The Skyclaw Brotherhood was the strongest, the best!

They had fought their way from nothing to the top of the world, and they weren't going to let some monster take that away from them.

Velros straightened, a surge of energy coursing through him as his wings flared out, their powerful feathers cutting through the air.

He could feel the weight of his ancestors watching him, feel the pride of his people back home who had cheered for them every step of the way.

The Jaldir race had put their faith in him, in all of them.

They had come too far to give up now.

With a growl, he turned back to his remaining brothers, who were still fighting desperately, their movements growing slower as exhaustion set in.

"Don't give up!" Velros shouted, his voice ringing through the maze with newfound strength. "I WILL NEVER GIVE UP!"

His shout echoed off the walls, reverberating through the labyrinth, filling his comrades with a renewed sense of purpose.

They were the Skyclaw Brotherhood.

They had faced worse odds before.

They weren't going to die here.

But just as Velros's heart pounded with hope, a shadow loomed towering over him.

The ground shook beneath his feet, and the oppressive presence of the Minotaur filled the air.

His shout seemed to have drawn its attention.

Velros barely had time to react.

His eyes widened as he looked up, and all he saw was the massive, blood-stained club of the beast, descending toward him with the force of a destructive avalanche.

Then after that, everything went black.