LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

The tall man charged forward, his spear gripped tightly in his calloused hands, his heart pounding with adrenaline and desperation.

He wouldn't let Lyerin go after his comrades—not when he was the only one who could buy them time.

With every ounce of resolve, he lunged at Lyerin, his movements fast, sharp, and calculated. Yet, no matter how precise or forceful his attacks were, Lyerin always slipped away effortlessly, like a shadow evading the light.

Lyerin darted sideways, his body moving with a fluid grace that defied reason. "Oh, come now," he said, his tone light and taunting. "Is that all you've got? Surely you can do better than this. You're supposed to be the strongest of them, aren't you? The big hero, the noble sacrifice?"

The tall man spun on his heel, thrusting his spear with a ferocious roar. But Lyerin wasn't there.

He had already shifted, reappearing a few feet away, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Missed again," Lyerin said with a chuckle. "You're really making this too easy. Are you even trying?"

The tall man didn't respond. His breaths came heavy and labored, but his resolve remained unbroken.

He adjusted his stance, feinting left before slashing right, but once again, Lyerin slipped away, his movements almost playful.

The mocking laughter that followed was sharp and biting, like daggers against the tall man's pride.

"Ah, that's better," Lyerin said, leaning casually against a tree as if he had all the time in the world. "You're starting to put some spirit into it. Not that it'll help, of course."

With a growl, the tall man lunged again, his spear slicing through the air with deadly precision.

For a moment, he thought he had him—thought he saw the blade of the spear connect. But then the figure before him dissolved like smoke, and Lyerin's laughter echoed from behind.

"Too slow," Lyerin said, his voice carrying a mocking edge. "You'll need to be faster than that if you want to catch me."

The tall man spun around, his teeth clenched in frustration.

He launched another series of strikes, each more aggressive than the last, but Lyerin continued to evade him with maddening ease.

He sidestepped, ducked, and twisted, always staying just out of reach, his movements effortless and taunting.

"Is this really the best you can do?" Lyerin asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "All that bravado, all that determination—and this is all you have to show for it? I'm disappointed."

The tall man's chest heaved as he paused to catch his breath.

His hands were trembling now, but he tightened his grip on the spear, refusing to give in. "You won't get past me," he said, his voice firm despite the strain in his body. "I'll stop you, no matter what it takes."

Lyerin smirked, his head tilting to the side. "Oh, really?" he said. "And how exactly do you plan to do that? You can't even land a single hit on me. What makes you think you can stop me?"

The tall man didn't answer. He charged again, his movements wild but determined, his spear slicing through the air in a flurry of strikes. But Lyerin danced around him, his laughter growing louder and more mocking with each failed attempt.

"Missed," Lyerin said as he sidestepped a thrust. "Missed again," he added, ducking under a swing. "Oh, so close that time—but still missed."

The tall man growled in frustration, his attacks growing more desperate.

He tried everything—feints, sudden changes in direction, even throwing his spear in a last-ditch effort to catch Lyerin off guard. But nothing worked. Lyerin avoided every attack with the same infuriating ease, his mocking laughter never ceasing.

"You're really not very good at this, are you?" Lyerin said, leaning against a tree once more. "I mean, I appreciate the effort—it's almost cute, really—but you're just not cut out for this kind of thing."

The tall man retrieved his spear and prepared to attack again, but Lyerin held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"Wait, wait," Lyerin said, his tone light and mocking.

"Before you try again, let me give you a little advice. You're too predictable. I can see every move you're going to make before you even make it. If you want to have any chance of hitting me, you'll need to be a little more... creative."

The tall man's grip tightened on his spear, his knuckles white. "I don't need your advice," he said through gritted teeth. "I just need to stop you."

Lyerin chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, such determination," he said. "It's almost admirable—if it weren't so utterly hopeless."

The tall man lunged again, his spear aimed straight for Lyerin's chest. But once again, Lyerin moved with inhuman speed, dodging the attack and reappearing behind him. "Missed again," he said, his voice right in the tall man's ear.

The tall man spun around, his spear slashing through the air, but Lyerin was already gone, his laughter echoing from a different direction.

"You're really making this too easy," Lyerin said, his voice carrying from the shadows. "At this rate, I might as well let you wear yourself out before I even bother fighting back."

The tall man paused, his chest heaving, his body trembling with exhaustion and frustration.

He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer, but he refused to give in. He adjusted his grip on the spear and prepared for another attack.

But before he could move, he felt a strange sensation—a prickling at the back of his neck, as if something was watching him.

He froze, his eyes darting around the forest, but he saw nothing. The air seemed to grow heavier, and a chill ran down his spine.

Then he heard Lyerin's voice, soft and mocking, coming from behind him. "You've been fun," Lyerin said, his tone almost playful. "But I'm afraid the fun is over—for you, at least."

The tall man turned, his spear raised, but before he could react, his vision went black. He felt a sharp pain, then nothing at all.

The last thing he heard was Ly

erin's laughter, echoing through the forest like a haunting melody.