LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

The air crackled with an ominous surge of energy as the Younger Woman, Donovan, Theran, Miriam, and Mikhail huddled together, their battered bodies trembling from the relentless torment they had endured.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, their muscles quaking under the strain of exhaustion, yet their eyes burned with a fierce resolve.

The moment had come—a desperate gambit forged from sheer necessity. As one, they pooled their remaining strength, summoning mana from the deepest recesses of their souls.

A low hum filled the air, growing louder and deeper with every passing second.

The forest, dark and foreboding, seemed to recoil in response to the sheer concentration of power being gathered. Shadows flickered wildly, spiraling around the group as the raw energy distorted the space around them.

The mana pulsed and writhed, taking on a life of its own, glowing with an eldritch, otherworldly light that bathed the scarred earth in hues of deep crimson, violet, and black.

Lyerin, standing just meters away, watched with an amused smirk. His arms hung loosely at his sides, his posture relaxed as though he were enjoying some kind of private joke. "Oh?" he drawled, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Are we trying something new? How exciting! Do go on. I love surprises."

The Younger Woman's hands trembled as she chanted under her breath, her voice trembling yet unyielding.

Her mana swirled around her fingers like ribbons of liquid fire, burning so bright it illuminated the agony etched across her features.

Beside her, Donovan gritted his teeth, his fists clenched so tightly that blood trickled from his palms.

The air around him shimmered as he channeled his remaining energy into a focused point, his eyes glowing with a fierce determination.

Theran, Miriam, and Mikhail formed a triangle, their combined mana intertwining like threads of a web.

The ground beneath their feet cracked and split, black tendrils of magic seeping through the fissures as they worked in unison.

Eldritch symbols etched themselves into the air, glowing faintly before igniting with violent bursts of power.

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A deafening boom shattered the tension as the first wave of their attack was unleashed.

From Miriam's hands erupted a torrent of shadowy tendrils, writhing and snapping like serpents with a mind of their own.

Hisssss!

The tendrils slashed through the air, their tips glowing with dark energy as they raced toward Lyerin.

At the same moment, Donovan unleashed a barrage of mana blades, each one shimmering with a sinister, ethereal light.

The blades cut through the air with a high-pitched shiiiiing, converging on Lyerin in a flurry of deadly precision.

Theran's spears of blood-red energy followed, streaking through the sky like comets. Whooosh! Whooosh!

Lyerin stood in the midst of the onslaught, his eyes alight with gleeful anticipation.

"Yes! That's it! Give me everything you've got!" he cried, throwing his arms wide open in mock surrender.

The attacks collided with Lyerin in a cacophony of sound and light. BOOOOM!

The ground shook violently, trees splintering and collapsing under the force of the impact.

A dense cloud of smoke and debris erupted into the air, blanketing the battlefield in a suffocating darkness.

The Younger Woman fell to her knees, gasping for air, her body trembling from the sheer amount of mana she had expended.

For a moment, silence reigned. The oppressive, suffocating quiet stretched out endlessly, broken only by the faint crackle of residual magic dissipating into the atmosphere.

The five of them stared into the cloud of smoke, their hearts pounding as they dared to hope.

But then, a sound emerged.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Slow, deliberate applause echoed from the center of the destruction.

The smoke began to clear, and there, standing amidst the devastation, was Lyerin—completely unharmed. His coat, now slightly singed at the edges, fluttered gently in the breeze.

His expression was one of pure, unbridled amusement, his grin stretching wider than ever before.

"Oh, that was adorable," Lyerin said, his voice ringing out like a taunt. "I mean, really, I almost felt that one. Almost." He tapped a finger against his chin, feigning deep thought. "I particularly liked the part where you all gave it everything you had, only for it to amount to absolutely nothing. Truly inspiring."

Miriam's shadow beasts, still writhing in the air, lunged at Lyerin in a last-ditch effort to land a blow. But Lyerin waved a hand lazily, and the beasts disintegrated mid-air, their forms unraveling into wisps of smoke.

"Do you Borgias assassins ever learn?" Lyerin asked, his tone mockingly sympathetic.

"This little routine of yours—charging up mana, throwing flashy attacks, hoping for a miracle—it's so... predictable. I was expecting more creativity. You're supposed to be the best, aren't you?"

"Shut up!" Donovan shouted, his voice hoarse with rage. He staggered forward, his legs barely holding him up. "We're not done yet!"

"Oh, please," Lyerin said, rolling his eyes. "Spare me the dramatic declarations. You're done, all right. You're crawling on the edge of nothingness, clinging to scraps of hope that will never save you. And you know what? I love it."

He took a step forward, his boots crunching against the shattered ground.

"Come on, then," he said, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Show me your next trick. Let's see what's left in that pathetic little arsenal of yours. Or are we finally ready to accept the truth?"

The five of them exchanged glances, their faces pale and drawn. They had poured everything into that attack—all their mana, all their strength, all their hope. And it had meant nothing.

Lyerin chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "That's what I thought."

But then, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Donovan, with the last ounce of his strength, hurled a final mana blade, its edge glowing faintly as it cut through the air. Lyerin caught it effortlessly, holding it between his fingers as he examined it.

"Pathetic," he said, crushing the blade into nothingness.

And with that, Lyerin burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the ruins of the forest like a cruel symphony.