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LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

What if a power to level up or upgrade everything—your way of living, battle skills, military prowess, etc.—but this power is limited to your Eldritch tribe. Would you expand your tribe to rise above all adversaries, would you use it to gain more personal power or use it to toy with everyone? Lyerin wanted nothing more than peace on himself, but all he had was regret. He possessed a secret ability that allowed him to quickly excel at anything he chose, but he could only use it once. While others had to spend a long time to reach higher levels or master new skills, he only needed to complete a simple, specific task to level up. However, he had already used this ability to count a specific number of sand grains to save his own life. After that, his existence became a living hell. One day, he was unexpectedly sent back in time, where he would witness numbers appearing in the sky, signaling the end of the world again—an apocalypse he despised the most! But Lyerin realized he could use his ability once more, this time on a certain group of people. A TRIBE! ``` [ Ding! ] [ You have chosen to level up knife slash! As a Wildling of your tribe, you can level up your knife slash. ] [ Condition: Slash the knife 500 times. ] [ You have chosen a random tree to level up! The tree is part of your tribe; you can level it up. ] [ Condition: Water the tree 300 times. ] [ You cannot level up anymore due to your limited rank within the tribe. Raise your rank in the clan first. ] [ Condition: Give honor to the tribe. ] [ You have reached the peak level of your tribe. If you want to level up further, improve and level up your clan! ] [ Condition: Level up the Ancestral Healing Ritual, level up the Newborn Den, and level up the tribe's farm. ] ``` With this overpowered ability, can he still hold onto his selfish wish for peace within himself? Warnings: 1. Cold, Calculated and Cunning MC. 2. After 100+ chapters will be bloody.

Notorious_911 · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
400 Chs

Destroyed

The battlefield had descended into chaos.

The Brutarians and Webweavers, once confident in their defenses, now found themselves facing an unstoppable nightmare.

Gorn Ironmaul stood in the center of the carnage, his chest heaving as he swung his warhammer with all his might. But it wasn't enough.

The Pig Orcs, already monstrous in size, had begun to double in height and bulk.

Their tusks gleamed in the firelight, their muscles rippling grotesquely as they tore through the Brutarian defenses like they were made of paper.

CRACK!

Gorn's hammer collided with one of the Orcs, but instead of the sickening crunch of bone, there was only a dull thud.

The Orc barely flinched, a malicious grin spreading across its face before it backhanded Gorn with the force of a battering ram.

WHAM!

Gorn flew through the air, crashing into the stone wall behind him, the impact leaving a crater in the rock.