The sky above the battlefield was dark, and the air crackled with the scent of ash and blood.
Lyerin stood at the edge of a crumbling ruin, his Pig Orcs gathered behind him like a storm ready to strike. His mind was clear, his resolve cold and sharp as steel.
The notification still hung in his vision, the sweet sound of triumph echoing in his ears.
Ding!
[ The Stonehooves Tribe Spirit has been elevated to level three. ]
Lyerin's lips curled into a grin as he surveyed the remaining participants.
The Sevarin, Volcaris, and Thrylos clans were the last remnants of resistance in this city of blood and ruin.
He could feel their presence in the distance, scattered, but strong. It was time to wipe them out.
With a gesture, his Pig Orcs moved, their eyes gleaming with newfound power.
They had evolved along with the Stonehooves Tribe Spirit, their strength growing with each battle.
