The shaman's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in the depths of his wild looking eyes. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. His gaze raked over Lyerin's Demon Ibex form, from his hooves to his horns, scrutinizing every detail.
Lyerin straightened, his demeanor shifting from calm to commanding as he began to speak. His voice was firm and resonant, carrying the weight of authority and knowledge. "I come from the Kingdom of Rosemary," he started, watching as the shaman, the leader, and the warriors exchanged uneasy glances.
"It is a territory of immense power, ruled by a Royal Family that includes a Grandmaster Magus."
The mention of a Grandmaster Magus sent a ripple of fear through the gathered Ibexes.
They knew well the might of such a being. But why is he telling them this?
Lyerin continued, "Within the kingdom, there are several noble houses, each with their own legions of experienced assassins, magi, and paladins. These are warriors and spellcasters whose skills far surpass those of your tribe's finest."
The leader Ibex's face twisted in a mix of anger and fear. "Why are you telling us this?" he demanded, but there was an edge of panic in his voice.
Lyerin didn't pause. "Your tribe, with its experienced shaman, may think itself formidable. But compared to the forces of the Kingdom of Rosemary, you are but a shadow. Our assassins move unseen, our magi command the elements, and our paladins wield the light itself. The power we hold could reduce your tribe to ashes without a second thought."
The shaman's face drained of color, and the warriors shifted uneasily, their confidence shaken.
The enormity of what Lyerin was saying began to sink in, and they found themselves questioning their earlier bravado.
"And that's not all," Lyerin continued, his voice a cold, relentless tide. "Among the noble houses, the Borgias Family stands out. They hold contracts with several tribes, binding them in alliance and service. One such tribe is the Snow Leopard Tribe, known for their agility and deadly prowess. Another is the Hundred Bison Tribe, whose strength and endurance are unmatched."
Lyerin's words painted vivid images of these powerful tribes, each more daunting than the last. "The Snow Leopard Tribe," he elaborated, "can strike faster than the eye can see, their claws cutting through armor like paper. They are silent, deadly, and utterly loyal to the Borgias Family. And then there's the Hundred Bison Tribe—massive, unstoppable, their sheer brute force capable of toppling fortresses."
The shaman's hands trembled, his earlier confidence now replaced with palpable fear. "Why are you saying this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Lyerin's eyes bored into the shaman's, unyielding. "Because you need to understand the gravity of your situation. You may think you hold power over me, but you are mistaken. I am not alone. I am backed by forces you cannot comprehend, by alliances that stretch far beyond your imagination."
The leader Ibex swallowed hard, his bravado crumbling. "What do you want from us?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
"I want the means to return to my human form at will," Lyerin replied, his tone unyielding. "Failing to provide it will mean invoking the wrath of the Kingdom of Rosemary and its allies. Your tribe will be swept away, your people crushed underfoot by powers far greater than you can oppose."
The warriors exchanged fearful glances, their earlier arrogance replaced by a dawning realization of the threat they faced. The shaman's face was a mask of dread, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of Lyerin's words.
"You think you can threaten us?" one of the warriors spat, though his voice wavered.
Lyerin's gaze locked onto the warrior, his expression cold and resolute. "It's not a threat. It's a reality. One you'd do well to heed."
The shaman's eyes narrowed as he glared at Lyerin. "I don't believe you," he spat. "We've clashed with the Snow Leopard Tribe and the Bison Tribe. We've never heard of any Kingdom of Rosemary or the Borgias Family. Who are you really?"
The shaman stepped closer, his tone dripping with disdain.
"If we kill you right now, do you think your faraway kingdom would even know? Do you think you could escape?"
Lyerin remained calm, understanding the shaman's logic of leaving no witnesses.
"My name is Lyerin Borgias," he stated, his voice unwavering. "I am from the Borgias Family. The reason you've never heard of us is that your Devil Horned Tribe is pathetic and weak. You have only one experienced shaman and the rest are Adept Wildling warriors. You don't even have any Journeyman Wildling warriors, unlike the Snow Leopard Tribe and the Hundred Bison Tribe, who have several Journeyman Wildling warriors and numbers of experienced shamans."
The shaman, the leader, and the warriors of the Devil Horned Tribe stared at Lyerin, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.
How did he know?
Well, Lyerin only knew the Devil Horned Tribe, after all, they became incredibly famous in the past. As for other tribes, he just made it all up.
However, the reality of Lyerin' words about their tribe's inadequacies hit them hard.
The Devil Horned Tribe, consisting of various species, was relatively new to this land.
Their recent clashes with the Snow Leopard Tribe and the Hundred Bison Tribe had left them reeling. To the point that their homes had been raided, forcing them into this unfamiliar territory.
Lyerin's words cut deep. "Even if you level up or improve everything in your tribe, even the grain of sand, or every drop of your water, you won't amount to anything," he mocked, his voice laced with contempt.
However, as he was done speaking, a sudden, a strange, and a mysterious mechanical sound filled the air, causing it to get the feeling of extreme coldness on Lyerin's skin.
[ Ding! ]
Lyerin turned, his eyes widening as a shimmering system screen materialized in front of him.
The words glowed with an eerie light:
[ You have chosen everything in the Devil Horned Tribe as your target to level up infinitely! ]
As if the entire world had come to a sudden halt, and the business with the tribesmen disappeared, Lyerin's confident poise vanished in an instant.
Immediately, he suddenly felt an overwhelming pressure pulling his entire being toward the mysterious screen before him.
The words "Level up?" echoed in his mind, repeating endlessly. "Level up? Level up? Level up?"
The mantra became a relentless cycle, he didn't even realized that his barely whisper voice became relentless as he repeated the phrase over and over and over again.
Not long, Lyerin felt his body froze, and his mind was flooded with memories from his past, each one more painful than the last.
If he had one greatest regret, it was his unique ability that he had wasted.
Back then, in the awakening, he failed to awaken a shadow core, shadow blood, or shadow spirit within the Borgias family, they deemed him useless.
They decided to withhold any knowledge that could help him survive in this magical world. After all, without those three, he was a useless family member, a low-class member of the Kingdom.
Some family member declared Lyerin useless and suggested he be killed. But Lyerin had begged deeply for his life.
Finally, out of sheer amusement, the Borgias family gave him a chance to live.
His task, was supposed to be an impossible mission: count the grains of sand. It was a cruel joke, a task designed to be impossible.
But it was during this futile effort that Lyerin discovered his unique ability.
The ability to level up anything he desires, but he could only do it once. And once, he had used it, there's no turning back!