A sudden flash of red light caught Lyerin's attention, it was pulsing from time to time, the familiar chime of the system echoing in his ears. He glanced at the small prompt that had popped up in front of him, the message scrolling across his vision.
[ Ding!
[ All the missions will be nullified!
[ The tribe level is not high enough to level up the loyalty in the boundary of the second cycle! ]
Lyerin's brow furrowed as he read the message. But he quickly dismissed it. "Not a problem," he muttered, pushing the notification aside.
He had bigger plans.
The loyalty of his tribe could wait then; there were other things to be done, more pressing matters to attend to.
As long as they would now listen to him, it would be enough.
Without a care in the world, Lyerin reached into his pocket, pulling out a set of scrolls.
The parchment was aged and weathered, covered in ancient runes that glowed faintly in the dim light.
