As Lyerin marched forward, his senses heightened by the manifestation of his abilities, he began to feel the whispers of his tribe members creeping into his consciousness.
The subtle hum of their fear, doubts, and deliberations filled the air around him, weaving a web of uncertainty.
One of the tribe members, his voice low, spoke to the others, "Maybe… maybe we should stay. Lyerin's strong. He can handle these monsters. We'd be safer here than anywhere else."
Another, still wiping sweat from his brow after the recent battle, chimed in, "Yeah, you saw what he did to those Fleshers. And the Pig Orcs—they're powerful. We'd never survive out there alone, not with these beasts."
A woman, trembling slightly, interjected,
"But did you hear him earlier? He said we're level thirty now, like it means something.
"What does that even mean? It's like he's playing with us, like we're pawns in some game we don't even understand…"
