LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

High above the twisted battlegrounds, far beyond the sight of mortal eyes, the Overseer and the council of six-handed shadows convened in their darkened chamber.

The walls flickered with the light of ancient runes, and the shadows themselves seemed alive, shifting and murmuring as they watched the unfolding chaos below.

At the center of their attention was the participant Lyerin and his astonishing rise to power.

The Overseer, draped in his flowing robes of dark energy, remained silent as the six-handed shadows began a heated debate.

"What is this madness?" one of the shadows rasped, its voice like the crackling of dry leaves. Its six arms waved erratically in the air, a clear sign of agitation. "How could this Lyerin, manage to give his Pig Orcs the ability of the Minotaurs? That's impossible!"

"Impossible, indeed!" another shadow added, its deep, guttural voice filled with incredulity.

"The Minotaurs' strength is legendary—doubling in power when wounded. But the Pig Orcs? They are crude creatures, brutes with no such natural abilities. And yet... they've gained this power."

The chamber buzzed with uncertainty, the shadows moving and twisting as they pondered this mystery.

The Overseer remained still, his eyes gleaming with a quiet intensity as he listened to the growing tension.

"This cannot be!" a third shadow, its form bulkier and more solid than the others, boomed.

"We designed this system. We know the rules. The Pig Orcs should never have been able to inherit such a trait. Their hatred and savagery is one thing, but the Minotaur's resilience and strength in injury is something altogether different."

The shadows swirled around the Overseer, their whispers now a cacophony of questions and theories.

How did this happen?

How had Lyerin's tribe of Pig Orcs become twice as strong when injured, like the Minotaurs?

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There had to be some explanation, something they had missed.

The Overseer, his presence commanding even among the ancient shadows, finally raised a hand, silencing the room. His voice was smooth, almost amused, as he spoke.

"You are all too focused on what you think is possible. You forget that the elevation of the tribal spirit has deeper implications than just a simple increase in power." His eyes gleamed, reflecting the light of the runes. "This, my fellow overseers, is the result of Lyerin's Stonehooves Tribe Spirit reaching level two."

The shadows quieted, their many eyes focusing on the Overseer.

One of the more analytical shadows, its voice soft but sharp, asked, "But how? The Stonehooves Tribe was tied to Minotaur traits only in the most rudimentary sense. The Pig Orcs should not have had any access to the Minotaur's unique ability. They are a completely different race, with their own history."

The Overseer's eyes narrowed slightly, a faint smile curling at the edge of his lips. "Ah, but you see, the Pig Orcs and the Minotaurs share a bond far deeper than most know."

The chamber fell silent. The six-handed shadows leaned in, eager to hear more.

"The Minotaurs and the Pig Orcs," the Overseer began, "though different in form and function, share a mutual hatred rooted in the blood-soaked soil of their origins. In the ancient days, before the Great Collapse, the Minotaurs were feared for their resilience and ferocity in battle. They thrived on pain, growing stronger as they bled. This was the hallmark of their power.

However, the Pig Orcs, lesser in physical strength but far more numerous, were no less brutal."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

"The Pig Orcs were born from that same warlike savagery. Their race was forged in the fires of conflict with humans like Minotaur. For centuries, they fought a brutal, unending war—one that saw entire landscapes leveled in their wake.

"The Pig Orcs, unlike the Minotaurs, did not have the benefit of physical fortitude. Instead, they relied on sheer numbers and unbridled hatred to overwhelm their enemies. And it is this hatred that is key."

The shadows listened intently, their focus solely on the Overseer now.

"When the Stonehooves Tribe Spirit was trying to reach level two, it drew not only from the physical strength of its members but from the deep, shared bloodline of hatred between the Pig Orcs and the Minotaurs.

"The Pig Orcs' fury and their brutal history with the Minotaurs acted as a catalyst, allowing them to tap into the Minotaurs' trait of growing stronger when injured in the level two. It is not a perfect inheritance of the ability, but it is close enough."

The shadows stirred again, but this time with understanding rather than confusion.

"So," one of the shadows mused, its tone contemplative, "the Pig Orcs and Minotaurs, though unrelated, share enough of a violent past that the elevation of the tribe spirit merged their traits."

"Precisely," the Overseer said with satisfaction. "The Stonehooves Tribe Spirit, at level two, was able to enhance the Pig Orcs with a fragment of the Minotaurs' ability. It is a natural occurrence, though rare."

"But this elevation—this level two—should have been impossible for Lyerin to achieve so quickly," one of the shadows said, its voice tinged with unease. "The resources required for such an ascension are vast. How did he manage it? And what will happen now that his tribe spirit is reaching level three?"

The Overseer waved a hand dismissively. "The answer is simpler than you think. Lyerin is resourceful. He has used every advantage at his disposal, from manipulating the Pig Orcs' hatred to directing their aggression toward his enemies. This is not a man who waits for resources to fall into his lap. He creates his own opportunities."

The shadows murmured among themselves, still troubled by the rapid rise of Lyerin's power. One spoke up, its voice laden with concern.

"Should we be worried? If Lyerin can continue to elevate his tribe spirit like this, what will stop him from amassing a force that even we cannot control?"

The Overseer's expression darkened, his amusement fading. "It is true that Lyerin's progress has been faster than anticipated. But remember, his resources are still limited. The further he ascends, the more difficult it will be for him to sustain such growth without proper support."

"But he is dangerous," another shadow said quietly. "Even without full access to resources, he has managed to achieve what should have taken others far longer. And now, his Pig Orcs possess a trait that could turn the tide in battles to come."

The Overseer nodded slowly. "Yes, Lyerin is dangerous. But that is why we chose him, is it not? We wanted to see what would happen when someone with nothing to lose was thrown into the chaos. And now we are seeing the results."

The shadows fell silent, each contemplating the Overseer's words.

"But there is something else," the Overseer added, his voice lowering. "The Pig Orcs' shared hatred with the Minotaurs is not the only reason for their newfound strengthen. Their bond with Lyerin is deepening. He is not just leading them—he is becoming a part of them. His influence over them is growing stronger with every victory. This is why their strength is evolving alongside the tribe spirit."

"And what happens if he reaches level three?" one of the shadows asked, its voice barely above a whisper.

The Overseer's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "If Lyerin's tribe spirit reaches level three, the Pig Orcs will become something far more dangerous than mere brutes. They will become an army capable of reshaping this battlefield."

The shadows exchanged uneasy glances.

"Then we must watch him closely," one of them said. "If he continues to grow at this rate, he could become a threat to all of us."

The Overseer nodded slowly. "Indeed. But for now, we let the game play out. Let us see how far Lyerin can climb before the weight of his own power brings him down."

However, as soon as they look, their eyes went wide.