LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

The atmosphere in the room grew even darker, like a thick, suffocating air that pressed solid-hard against the chests of everyone in the courtroom.

As if on cue, the center of the room began to warp and twist, the shadows coalescing into a solid form.

The ground beneath them started to tremble, and from the darkness, a grotesque, towering tree began to emerge. Its bark was pitch black, glistening like the exoskeleton of some ancient insect, with jagged, sharp edges that seemed to pierce the very air around it.

The surface of the tree was slick, as though covered in a sheen of dark oil, and it pulsed with a sickly, rhythmic beat that resonated in the chests of everyone who looked upon it.

Lyerin stood in front of the terrifying spectacle, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "Voila," he said, his voice carrying a tone of mock celebration. "Now you see it, don't you?" His words hung in the air, dripping with a cruel sense of amusement.

The members of the Borgias Family were frozen in shock, their eyes wide with horror as they watched the tree slowly materialize before them.

They could hardly believe what they were seeing.

This was no ordinary tree.

They could feel that thing was something far more sinister, something that defied the natural order.

The dark, shiny roots of the tree began to crawl across the floor like living tendrils, snaking their way toward each person in the room.

The roots wrapped around their legs, slithering up their bodies like the coils of a snake, binding them in place with an unyielding grip.

"W-what is this…?"

Lord Victor's voice trembled as he felt the cold, slick roots encase him. He struggled, trying to break free, but the roots only tightened their grip, squeezing the air from his lungs.

The others in the room were similarly ensnared, their faces contorted in a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Lyerin chuckled softly, watching their futile attempts to escape. "Oh, don't bother trying to resist," he said, his tone almost pitiful. "These roots are quite special. You see, they're made to suppress anyone who's not a seventh cycle Mana user. And let's be honest…" He paused, looking around the room with a condescending smirk. "Not a single one of you is anywhere near that level."

The realization of their powerlessness sank in, and the room was only filled with their suffocating silence. But the true horror was only just beginning.

One by one, the mouths of the Borgias Family members were forced open by some unseen force.

They tried to fight it, to clamp their jaws shut, but it was no use. Their mouths were pried wide, leaving them vulnerable and helpless.

Suddenly, from the ends of the roots that bound them, thin, worm-like tendrils began to emerge.

These tendrils were covered in small, sharp teeth, glistening with a viscous fluid.

The tendrils wriggled and squirmed, searching for their targets, and then, with a horrifying inevitability, they began to burrow into the open mouths of their victims.

The sensation was beyond anything they had ever felt—an invasion of their very being.

The roots forced their way deeper, inch by inch, sliding down their throats, choking off their screams before they could even escape.

Lyerin's laughter filled the chamber, the sound echoing off the walls. He watched with a perverse satisfaction as the powerful, once-proud members of the Borgias Family were reduced to trembling, helpless figures. "You Borgias always loved your Shadow Cores so much," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Well, consider this tree your worst nightmare."

As he spoke, the black roots began to pulse, the bulges within them traveling slowly down their length.

The bulges grew larger, swelling ominously as they made their way toward the mouths of the victims. Lyerin watched closely, his eyes glittering with anticipation.

The bulges reached the mouths, and with a sickening slurp, they were forced down the throats of the Borgias Family members.

The reaction was immediate.

Their eyes bulged, their bodies convulsed as the bulges—whatever they were—entered their bodies.

Gooey, yellow-green liquid began to ooze from their ears, mouths, noses, and even from the corners of their eyes.

The fluid was thick, foul-smelling, and it dripped down their faces, staining their clothes and pooling on the floor beneath them.

The sight was repulsive, a visceral representation of the nightmare they were trapped in.

Lyerin's grin widened as he took in the sight. "Disgusting, isn't it?" he remarked, almost casually. "That's what happens when you ingest the essence of the Torture Parasitic Tree. It slowly devours you from the inside out, consuming your soul, your mana, your very life force. And the best part? You'll be conscious the entire time, fully aware of the pain, but completely unable to stop it."

The helplessness in the room was palpable.

Each member of the Borgias Family was locked in their own personal hell, their bodies wracked with unimaginable pain, but unable to scream, unable to fight back. And Lyerin stood there, relishing in their suffering, his expression one of twisted pleasure.

But then, amidst the chaos and the grotesque spectacle before him, Lyerin's sharp instincts sensed something amiss.

He felt a slight tremor, a disturbance in the air that alerted him to danger.

The spider web trap he had laid out earlier had been triggered.

Someone was approaching, fast.

No, incredibly fast!

His eyes darted toward his mother, Lina, who was standing in stunned silence, with her face incredibly pale with shock.

Lyerin moved quickly, his expression shifting from amusement to concern. He appeared beside Lina in an instant, his voice softening as he spoke to her. "Mother," he said gently, "sleep now. You've suffered enough."

Lina looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and confusion.

Before she could say anything, Lyerin placed his left hand on the back of her neck, channeling a soothing energy through his touch.

Lina's body relaxed, immediately, her eyes fluttering shut as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Lyerin caught her as she began to slump, cradling her with a surprising tenderness.

Without wasting a moment, Lyerin reached into his coat and pulled out a small, rolled-up magic scroll. He quickly unfurled it, tossing it onto the ground.

The scroll ignited, its edges burning away to reveal a glowing magic circle beneath them.

The circle expanded, with its light growing brighter until it enveloped both Lyerin and his mother.

Sweat began to bead on Lyerin's forehead as he concentrated, guiding the magic to ensure his mother's safety.

The process was delicate, and he couldn't afford any mistakes. But he needed to be faster—incredibly fast!

The light from the circle intensified, wrapping around Lina's unconscious form like a protective cocoon.

As soon as she was secure, the circle began to pulse, preparing to transport her away from this place, away from the horror that had unfolded.

But just as the circle was about to complete its work, Lyerin felt a sharp sting on his right hand.

Kachak!

He gasped, a low groan of pain escaping his lips.

"Urghh…"

The pain was sudden, unexpected, and intense. His vision blurred for a moment as he tried to focus, tried to identify the source of the attack.

Before he could react further, the light from the magic circle flared one last time, and then both Lyerin and his mother were gone, swallowed by the teleportation spell.

The courtroom was left in chaos, the bodies of the Borgias Family members still writhing in agony, their minds trapped in a nightmare they couldn't escape.

And in the shadows of the now empty room, a pair of glowing cat-like eyes appeared, watching the scene with a predatory intensity.

The eyes narrowed, a silent promise of what was to come next, as the darkness reclaimed the space, leaving nothing but the echoes of suffering behind.