LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

Chapter 372: Behavioral pattern

As the sun sank below the horizon and the moon began its quiet ascent, the soldiers prepared for their next attempt. This time, they would heed Lyerin’s words—or at least, they thought they would. Clad in darkened armor to blend with the shadows, their weapons sharpened and their nerves stretched thin, they ventured into the dense, quiet forest under the cover of night.

The once-familiar terrain now felt alien, cloaked in an oppressive darkness that seemed to swallow their every step. The forest was eerily still, the usual rustle of leaves and chirping of insects absent. The soldiers whispered among themselves, their voices low and uncertain, as if afraid to wake something sleeping.

Caron, leading the group, gestured for silence. His eyes darted around the clearing ahead, scanning for any sign of movement. Behind him, the younger soldier who had been wounded the previous day gripped his weapon tightly, his knuckles white. “Do you think it’s watching us?” he murmured, barely audible.

“Quiet,” Caron hissed, though his own grip tightened on his blade. “If it’s out here, it’ll hear us before we see it.”

Hours passed as they moved carefully through the forest, each shadow a potential threat, each rustle a sign of the beast. But no matter how far they traveled, there was no sign of the Noctis Predator. No glowing eyes in the dark, no heavy footfalls or guttural growls. The forest remained stubbornly silent.

Frustration began to seep into the group as the night wore on. They exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence faltering with each passing moment.

“This is ridiculous,” one of the older soldiers muttered under his breath. “We’re out here chasing ghosts.”

“Maybe it’s not even here anymore,” another whispered. “What if it moved on? Or worse, what if it’s waiting for us back at the tribe?”

Caron’s patience snapped. “Enough,” he growled, his voice low but commanding. “We’re not leaving until we find it. Keep looking.”

But as the hours dragged on, their search proved fruitless. The forest remained empty, its silence mocking their efforts. By the time the first light of dawn began to break through the trees, the soldiers were exhausted, their spirits broken.

They trudged back to the tribe in defeat, their armor and weapons weighing heavier with every step. The younger soldier who had spoken up earlier broke the silence first. “I don’t understand,” he said, his voice tinged with desperation. “Lyerin said it would be weaker at night. But it’s like… it wasn’t even there.”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” another soldier replied bitterly. “Maybe he was wrong. Or worse, maybe he lied.”

Caron didn’t respond. He kept his eyes forward, his jaw clenched as he tried to suppress the gnawing doubt that had taken root in his mind.

When they finally reached the tribe, the sun was fully risen, casting its harsh light on their defeated forms. The villagers stared as the soldiers stumbled back into the camp, their heads low and their spirits lower.

Lyerin, as if sensing their return, appeared near the edge of the tribe with his usual air of casual amusement. He leaned against a wooden post, watching them with a smirk that only deepened their frustration.

“Back so soon?” he drawled, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like a blade. “I take it your nocturnal hunt didn’t go as planned?”

Caron shot him a glare but said nothing. The younger soldier, however, couldn’t hold back. “It wasn’t there,” he said, his voice shaking with frustration. “We searched all night, and there was no sign of it. How do you explain that?”

Lyerin tilted his head, his golden eyes glinting with mock curiosity. “No sign of it, you say?” He tapped a finger to his chin thoughtfully. “How very peculiar. Perhaps,” he said, his smirk widening, “you were simply looking in the wrong place.”

The soldiers exchanged exasperated glances, their collective patience worn thin. “And where,” Caron asked, his voice low and dangerous, “would the right place be?”

Lyerin chuckled, the sound infuriatingly calm. “Ah, but that’s the question, isn’t it? Perhaps next time, you should pay closer attention to its patterns. After all, even the most fearsome beast has a lair to return to.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the soldiers to stew in their frustration and confusion. They couldn’t shake the feeling that Lyerin was toying with them, dangling just enough information to keep them chasing after shadows.

As the morning wore on, the soldiers regrouped, their conversation heavy with doubt and determination. They would rest, regroup, and try again. But for the first time, a seed of doubt began to take root among them—doubt not just in their own abilities, but in Lyerin’s true intentions.

Lyerin stood at the center of the camp, arms crossed, his piercing golden eyes scanning the group of battered and disheartened soldiers. For once, the smirk that so often adorned his face was absent, replaced by a calculating expression that sent shivers through the crowd. The soldiers, weary and wounded from their repeated failures, had gathered around him, their eyes filled with a mixture of frustration, desperation, and, though they would never admit it aloud, a sliver of hope.

He let the silence linger, his gaze sweeping over each soldier as if weighing their worth. The tension was palpable, the kind that made the air heavy and thick. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority.

“You’ve been blundering around in the dark, quite literally,” Lyerin began, his tone sharp and cutting. “Chasing after a beast you clearly don’t understand. You hunt it as if it’s a mere animal, a deer or a bear, when in reality, it’s far beyond your comprehension. Tell me,” he paused, raising an eyebrow, “have you even considered its behavioral patterns? Its instincts? Its needs?”

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. Lyerin sighed, a sound filled with exaggerated disappointment, and began to pace slowly in front of them, his steps deliberate.

“The Noctis Predator,” he said, his voice taking on the cadence of a teacher addressing particularly slow students, “is not just any beast. It is a creature of the night, yes, but more importantly, it is a creature of strategy. It hunts with precision, conserving its energy until the moment of attack. During the day, it rests, hidden away in a lair of its own making, a place where it feels secure.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face them, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve been wandering aimlessly, hoping to stumble upon it. Foolish. Do you think it would leave itself vulnerable to such incompetence? Of course not. It chooses its lair based on three critical factors: proximity to water, cover for concealment, and, most importantly, a vantage point to observe its territory. Have you even thought to look for such a location?”

The soldiers shuffled uncomfortably, their silence speaking volumes. Lyerin clicked his tongue in irritation.

“Let me spell it out for you,” he said, his voice growing colder. “This creature is intelligent. It understands its environment better than you ever could. It will choose a place where it can see you coming long before you see it. A high cliff, perhaps, or the hollow of a large tree surrounded by dense foliage. It will never stray far from a water source—creatures of its size require hydration as much as they require food. And food, my dear soldiers,” he added with a faint smirk, “could very well mean you.”

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A ripple of unease passed through the crowd, but Lyerin ignored it, his voice rising slightly as he continued. “Its lair will be somewhere it can retreat to quickly after a hunt, a place where it can recover and protect itself from larger predators. Have you even bothered to map out the areas surrounding this camp? To identify locations that fit these criteria?”

The soldiers shook their heads, and Lyerin let out a laugh, short and sharp. “Of course you haven’t,” he said. “You’ve been acting like headless chickens, running into the forest with no plan, no strategy, no understanding. And you wonder why you fail.”

He began pacing again, his voice taking on a more deliberate tone, as if speaking to a group of children who needed everything spelled out. “Here’s what you’ll do. You will spread out in groups and scout the area. Start with the water sources—lakes, rivers, streams. Mark them on a map. From there, identify potential hiding spots within a five-mile radius. Look for places that are elevated, concealed, and close to the water. But—and this is crucial—do not engage the creature if you find it. Observe. Learn its movements, its habits. Only then will you have any chance of defeating it.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face them once more, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “This is your only chance. Continue to act like fools, and you’ll end up as nothing more than a meal for the very beast you’re trying to hunt.”

The soldiers nodded slowly, their faces a mixture of fear and determination. Lyerin’s words, harsh as they were, had struck a chord. For the first time, they felt a sense of direction, a plan.

But Lyerin wasn’t finished. He stepped closer to them, his voice lowering to a near-whisper, forcing them to lean in to hear him. “Remember this,” he said, his tone deadly serious. “The Noctis Predator is not just a beast. It is a test. A trial. If you cannot overcome it, you do not deserve to leave this place. Do you understand?”

The soldiers nodded again, more firmly this time, their resolve hardening.

“Good,” Lyerin said, his smirk returning. “Now, go. And try not to embarrass yourselves further.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the soldiers to absorb his words. They exchanged glances, their fear mingling with a newfound determination. This time, they would be prepared. This time, they would succeed—or so they hoped.