LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

In the Kingdom of Rose, nestled deep within its grandiose castle, a figure sat draped in a flowing black robe.

The throne upon which he rested was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, intricately carved from the dark wood of an ancit forest, adorned with crimson roses that seemed almost to bleed.

The man's posture was one of utter ease, his back reclined against the throne, with his gaze lazily following the graceful movemts of performers before him.

They danced and twirled, their colorful costumes a blur of motion and joy.

Yet, despite the spectacle, the man seemed unimpressed, and his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

But th, without warning, something shifted. His eyes, which had be half-lidded in boredom, suddly snapped op, sharp and alert.

The faintest of frowns creased his brow as he felt a disturbance, something foreign yet familiar tugging at the edges of his consciousness. His head turned slowly, almost mechanically, as if drawn by an invisible force, and his gaze fixed on a point far beyond the walls of the castle. His expression darked, the playful disinterest vanishing tirely as he murmured to himself, "Excommunicado?

Borgias Family?"

His voice, though soft, carried a weight that made those a him pause in their actions, ssing a change in the atmosphere.

The performers faltered, their rhythm disrupted by the sudd tsion that filled the hall.

The man on the throne, however, paid them no mind. His focus was elsewhere, his thoughts racing as he processed the implications of what he had just ssed.

Something significant had occurred within the Borgias Family, something that had set off alarms within him—alarms that could not be ignored.

…

Back within the confines of the Borgias Family's stronghold, the room was thick with the oppressive silce that had settled after the brave man's death.

The man in the black suit stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the now-still corpse, his thoughts a whirlwind of calculations and conjectures.

The air in the room felt heavier, lad with the aftereffects of the dark magic that had be unleashed.

The members of the Borgias Family, still reeling from the evts, watched the man with a mixture of fear and awe, unsure of what he might do next.

Finally, one of the more sior members of the family, his voice trembling slightly, spoke up. He explained who Lyerin was—a halfling, the son of Lyuz.

The man in the suit tilted his head slightly, his expression obscured by the shadow that clung to his face. "A halfling?" he mused aloud, his voice laced with curiosity. "And he is Lyuz's son too?"

He lifted a hand to his chin, as if deep in thought, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the stubble on his jaw.

The shadows that obscured his face shifted slightly, but still, his features remained hidd, only the outline of his sharp cheekbones and the faint glint of his eyes visible. He considered the implications of what he had just learned.

How did this Lyerin awak such a powerful tity as the Torture Parasitic Tree?

A tree of such malevolce should only be within the grasp of those who had reached the sixth cycle of mana. And yet, this halfling, who should not possess such strgth, had somehow not only awaked it but had controlled it with a terrifying level of mastery.

Before he could ponder further, the Thousand Shadow Panther, still licking its wounds from the earlier counter, raised its head and spoke, its voice a low, growling rumble. "The halfling… he might have tak it from me," the panther admitted reluctantly, its pride clearly wounded.

"Wh I gave my mana to the halfling, I did not realize it was being drained… It was subtle, but wh I tried to teleport, I felt weaked, as if something had be tak from me."

The man in the suit turned his gaze to the panther, his expression inscrutable. The others in the room, however, gasped in disbelief.

The very idea that a halfling—a creature considered inferior in many magical societies—could siphon mana from one of the Guardian Beasts was unthinkable. Yet here they were, confronted with the impossible.

The man in the suit began to pace slowly, his mind piecing together the puzzle laid before him.

Lyerin had somehow drained the Thousand Shadow Panther's mana—an act that should have be beyond his capabilities. But it happed.

The members of the Borgias Family had confirmed it, and the panther's testimony only solidified the reality of the situation. This was no mere anomaly or fluke. It was something far more dangerous.

And th the man in the suit spoke again, his voice cutting through the silce. "Where did he learn such things? How does he possess knowledge that we, the Borgias Family, do not? What else does he know?" His questions hung in the air, each one a dagger aimed at the heart of their assumptions.

Suddly, as if answering the growing tsion in the room, two shadows began to materialize beside him.

They coalesced into humanoid figures, their forms dark and indistinct, yet undiably powerful.

These were no ordinary beings—they were the Shadow Envoys, elite agts of the Borgias Family, tasked with the most delicate and dangerous missions.

The man in the suit turned to them, his posture still casual but with an undercurrt of authority. "What have you found?" he asked, his tone demanding yet calm.

One of the Shadow Envoys stepped forward, its voice a whisper that seemed to bypass the ears and speak directly to the mind. "We have traced Lyerin Borgias to two pottial bases of his tribe, but both locations are shrouded in powerful concealmt magic. We could not locate him or his tribe directly, but there are signs… indications of his presce. He is close, but elusive."

The man in the suit nodded, his expression still unreadable. His aura, however, grew darker, the shadows a him thicking as if drawn to his rising intsity. He understood now.

This was no ordinary threat.

Lyerin Borgias was not just a rogue elemt or a mere nuisance. He was a descdant who had turned his back on the family, but more than that, he was someone who had delved into the darkest, most forbidd corners of magical knowledge. He had done what the Borgias Family, with all their power and influce, had not.

"He understands the ruins of the magical world better than us," the man in the suit muttered, almost to himself. "He has knowledge that could pose a greater threat to us than any external emy. This is no ordinary situation. We are dealing with someone who could unravel everything we have built, someone who could challge the very foundations of our power."

The room remained silt as his words sank in, each member of the Borgias Family feeling the weight of the realization.

Lyerin was not just a problem to be dealt with. He was a threat that had to be eliminated—swiftly and with extreme prejudice.

The man in the suit stood straighter, his decision made. He turned to the Shadow Envoys, his voice cold and final. "We may have to consider the unthinkable. Perhaps it is time to declare an Excommunicado against the halfling named Lyerin Borgias."

A collective gasp filled the room. Excommunicado was a term reserved for the most dangerous of emies, those who had betrayed the Borgias Family in such a way that they were marked for death by every member, every ally, every force that the family could muster.

It was a death stce, not just in the physical sse, but in every conceivable way.

The target of an Excommunicado would be hunted until they were utterly erased from existce, their name and deeds consigned to oblivion.

"Excommunicado?" one of the family members dared to whisper.

"Yes," the man in the suit responded, his tone leaving no room for argumt. "He has forsak his ties to the family. He has shown that he is willing to turn our own secrets against us. For that, there can be no mercy."

The man's words were like a hammer striking an anvil, final and irrevocable.

The decision was made. Lyerin Borgias would be marked, hunted, and destroyed, no matter the cost.

The Borgias Family would not tolerate a threat from within, not wh the stakes were so high.