As they walked through the rugged terrain, Lyerin's mood lightened, and he began to joke and act goofy, he couldn't help it, he just got the power he wanted.
Even though he accidentally used it on a tribe, just not that big of a problem.
The shaman, however, wasn't so easily distracted. He approached Lyerin, his eyes narrowed with curiosity.
"So, Lyerin," the shaman began, "you say that our tribe has already been detected by a kingdom? The Kingdom of Rose, to be precise?"
Lyerin, lost in his thoughts and the beauty of the mountains, nodded absentmindedly. "Yes, that's right. If your tribe isn't in a contract or business partnership with any of the noble families within the kingdom, you're in serious danger. Even fleeing would be a terrible decision. You'd all be turned into sport, enslaved."
The shaman's eyes widened, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
The Ibex warrior leader and the other warriors, who had been walking behind them, halted as well, their expressions mirroring the shaman's shock.
"Does that mean we cannot move anymore?" the shaman asked, his voice rising in pitch.
The warrior leader's face was pale, his usual stoic expression replaced by a look of utter disbelief.
The warriors muttered among themselves, their voices tinged with panic. "We're trapped?" "We can't escape?" "What do we do now?" "No, maybe he is telling lies."
Lyerin turned to face them, about to offer some reassurance, when suddenly a system screen materialized before his eyes with an accompanied sound.
[ Ding! ]
Only he could see it.
The screen displayed a long message:
[ Congratulations, for the other worlder Lyerin.
[ For surviving in this ruined magical world for this amount of time, you won't be turned into an Eldritch being back in the real world
[ The otherworlder named Lyerin will be back on Earth for thirty minutes.
[ Keep on surviving. ]
Lyerin's heart pounded in his chest.
Shocked, he looked down at his hands, knowing that he was still in a monstrous and muscular state. His fingers trembled, and he could almost see his reflection in his goat-like pupils.
"Oh no," he muttered to himself, realizing the implications. "If I keep being in this monstrous state, I'll be turned into a monster, worse than normal radioactive zombies.
"I need to grasp a transformation scroll to turn back into a human or I would be done for."
The cheerful, happy-go-lucky aura that had surrounded him vanished in an instant. He turned to face the shaman, the warrior leader, and the warriors, his expression now deadly serious.
He needed to address the tribe and make his intentions clear.
"Everyone," Lyerin says to grab their attention, "I want to welcome you all into a new era for our tribe. We face incredible challenges ahead, but together, we can overcome them. We must be vigilant, strong, and united. We have the potential to rise above our circumstances and thrive."
The shaman, the warrior leader, and the warriors listened intently.
"As part of this tribe, I pledge my loyalty and my skills to ensure our survival and prosperity," Lyerin continued. "But there is one thing I need in return. A tool that will allow me to maintain my humanity and continue fighting alongside you as an equal. I humbly and respectfully ask for the scroll of transformation to turn back into a human."
As they continued their walk, the shaman suddenly stopped and turned to Lyerin with a smile. He held out a scroll, its parchment old but clearly well-preserved. "Here," he said, his voice steady. "This is the scroll you requested."
Lyerin's eyes widened in surprise and then filled with joy. He accepted the scroll with both hands, bowing slightly. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "Thank you for accepting me into your tribe and for granting my request. I promise to use this opportunity to prove my worth to all of you."
The warriors and the leader watched him intently as he carefully unrolled the scroll. However, as soon as his fingers brushed the ancient paper, he froze.
The atmosphere around them shifted, becoming tense and oppressive.
A massive pressure emanated from Lyerin, but it seemed that the warriors were prepared.
A system screen appeared before Lyerin's eyes, displaying a message in bold, ominous text:
[ A defective human transformation scroll has been detected.
[ If used, will result in a transfigured human form, becoming an unrecognizable humanoid creature.
[ Would you like to level it up to remove the defect or make the defect worse!?
[ Current special ability: Level cycle (1). ]
The air seemed to grow heavy, almost suffocating, and tense as Lyerin turned his gaze to the shaman. His expression was painted with a mix of anger and betrayal. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, with his voice becoming low and dangerous.
The shaman's demeanor shifted from his earlier friendliness to a stern, unyielding posture. "Why would we truly accept an outsider into our tribe? And why would we honor the request of someone who does not belong? You really think it would be easy!?"
Lyerin's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, a dark laugh escaped his lips. "You're right," he said after a few seconds, his tone cold and accepting. "Why would you follow my request? Why would you grant anything to an outsider like me?"
He let the scroll fall from his hands, fluttering to the ground.
The warriors and the leader watched him with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
The tension in the air was like a bladed wind that somehow slash connection in the air between them, and for a long moment, no one spoke.
Lyerin's mind raced, recalling the path that had brought him here. He had seen the tribe's potential, their strength, and their unity. He had believed, for a fleeting moment, that he could be a part of something greater. But reality had a cruel way of reminding him of his place.
"I see now," Lyerin said slowly, "that my hopes were misplaced. You have no reason to trust me, to accept me, or to help me. I came here thinking I could find a place to belong, but I was mistaken."
The shaman's expression didn't not even soften, his gaze remained strong and wary. "You speak of understanding, yet you know so little of our ways. Trust is not given freely; it must be earned through deeds, not words. Plus, after your threat, we haven't made an agreement yet, why would we trust you!? And join our tribe? You must be wishing death sentence, he who isn't proud of his origin is not worthy to join anything!"
Lyerin nodded, acknowledging the truth in the shaman's words.
They were right.
He got carried away because he managed to not waste his secret ability that made him regret all his life on random things like counting the sand. Now, understanding the situation, he realized that he was still in the middle of a dangerous position.
The leader of the Ibex warriors stepped forward, his eyes piercing into Lyerin's. "You speak of joining us, of seeking revenge and offering help. But words are just that—words. Seize him!"