LEVEL EVERYTHING UP in my Eldritch Tribe

While the chaos of the Minotaur's maze unfolded, with screams and clashes echoing from every direction, Lyerin stood calmly in the center of the Stonehooves Tribe.

The tension in the surrounding maze was thick, but here, surrounded by his tribe and allies, Lyerin radiated an air of absolute control.

His gaze never wavered, not even as he heard distant sounds of the birdmen's frantic struggles against unseen forces.

Lyerin's expression remained cool as he scanned the gathered crowd of new human members who had recently joined the tribe.

He raised his voice, commanding the attention of everyone around. "Listen up! We have work to do!" His words were sharp, slicing through the ambient noise with the precision of a blade.

"Dig! I need trenches dug all around this area. We're going to fortify this place. And you, yes you—go fetch more stones to reinforce the kitchen!"

The new members were speechless, but with eyes wide and a mix of respect and fear, they immediately set to work.

They dug furiously into the earth, their shovels clanging against stones and roots.

The ground was tough, unyielding, but Lyerin's tone brooked no argument.

They worked tirelessly, sweat pouring down their faces, while Lyerin continued to bark orders.

"Deeper!" he shouted, pointing to a spot that had been inadequately dug. "We're not building a playground here; this is going to be a proper defense line. Dig deeper!"

To anyone watching, it would seem like Lyerin was preparing for an incoming assault, but his calm demeanor never wavered.

Even as an occasional Raging Pig Orc trudged in from the maze, hauling massive tree branches and chunks of wood on its back, Lyerin merely nodded in approval.

The Pig Orcs dumped their burdens unceremoniously in a heap, grunting with satisfaction before marching back into the maze, eager to bring more resources to their master.

"The trolls' meat!" Lyerin called out, his voice booming over the laboring tribe members. "Bring out the meat! We'll feast today while others fight and struggle!"

Several of the Pig Orcs had dragged in the fresh carcasses of trolls and other wild beasts that Lyerin's Mana beasts had slain earlier.

The thick slabs of meat glistened, the faint scent of blood mixing with the crisp air. Lyerin gestured for the humans to handle the meat, waving his hand with casual authority.

"Cook these!" he shouted, pointing at the trolls' meat. "We don't need spices. Troll meat is rich and delicious on its own. Just roast it over the flames until it's done!"

The new human members scrambled to obey, setting up makeshift spits and fires.

Smoke began to curl into the air as the flames roared to life, licking at the chunks of meat that had been skewered on wooden stakes.

The kitchen area they had hastily constructed was rudimentary at best—a circle of stones and mud, with spits made of scavenged branches. But it was efficient, and under Lyerin's direction, it soon became a hub of activity.

"Faster!" Lyerin commanded, pacing back and forth like a general on the battlefield. "We don't have all day!"

The humans moved with urgency, flipping the meat, adjusting the flames, and making sure every piece was cooked to perfection.

The smell of roasting meat filled the air, a mouthwatering aroma that momentarily pushed the chaos of the surrounding maze to the back of everyone's minds.

Corora, ever dutiful, walked among the workers, ensuring that Lyerin's commands were being followed to the letter.

She approached Lyerin, who had taken a brief respite near the grand statue of the Stonehooves Tribe, his eyes watching the kitchen's progress with satisfaction.

"Lyerin," Corora said, her voice respectful yet curious. "Why are you having us cook so much? The fighting hasn't even reached us yet…"

Lyerin glanced at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before breaking into a sly smile.

"Because we need to eat, Corora. There's no point in worrying about what's going on out there if we're starving in here. Besides," he added with a casual shrug, "a good meal boosts morale. And I don't know about you, but I've had enough of dried rations."

Corora nodded, though she couldn't quite shake the odd feeling of calm in this moment of brewing chaos.

She turned back to the others and helped guide the new tribe members as they rotated the spits and stoked the fires.

The trolls' meat sizzled, fat dripping into the flames and sending up sparks that danced in the air like fireflies.

Lyerin leaned back against the base of the towering statue, his eyes half-closed.

He looked as if he were taking a leisurely break rather than overseeing a bustling tribe in the middle of a survival game.

His fingers absentmindedly traced the intricate carvings at the base of the statue—depictions of the Stonehooves Tribe's battles, triumphs, and legacy.

Nearby, children from the tribe watched with wide, fearful eyes, clinging to each other as the sounds of distant fighting continued to ring out.

Sensing their fear, Lyerin straightened up and approached them, a soft smile replacing his usually stern expression.

"Hey there," he said gently, kneeling down to meet their eye level. "No need to be scared. Look."

He raised a hand and, with a flick of his wrist, conjured a small orb of light that danced in the air before bursting into a shower of colorful sparks.

The children gasped in delight, their fear momentarily forgotten.

"What's that?" a little girl asked, her eyes sparkling as she watched the magical display.

Lyerin chuckled, creating more orbs of light that spun and twirled like tiny stars. "Just a little magic trick," he said, his voice warm and reassuring.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. You see? The world is full of magic, and not all of it is bad."

The children laughed and clapped, reaching out to touch the shimmering lights, which vanished the moment they came into contact with their tiny hands.

Lyerin continued to perform small tricks—flowers blooming from his fingertips, birds made of light flitting through the air before dissolving into sparks.

Each act was simple, but it brought a sense of normalcy and joy to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

As the meat finished cooking, the tribe members began to gather around the makeshift kitchen, their faces lighting up at the sight of the hearty meal that had been prepared.

Plates made of broad leaves were piled high with steaming chunks of troll meat, and everyone dug in eagerly, savoring the rich, savory flavors.

Lyerin took a seat at the edge of the kitchen, his back against the cool stone of the statue.

He watched his tribe eat, their spirits lifted by the simple act of sharing a meal.

The contrast between this peaceful gathering and the chaos unfolding in the maze behind them was stark, but Lyerin relished it. Here, they were safe, fed, and together.

Corora approached him again, sitting beside him with a plate of her own. "You seem awfully calm," she said, her tone light but tinged with curiosity. "Most people would be preparing for an attack, but you're… having a barbecue."

Lyerin smirked, popping a piece of meat into his mouth. "Why waste energy on worrying?" he said with a shrug. "I've learned that sometimes, the best way to fight is to just live well. And right now, that means enjoying a good meal."

Corora shook her head with a smile, unable to argue with his logic.

She glanced back at the bustling tribe, the children laughing, the fire crackling, and the scent of roasted meat filling the air. At this moment, at least, they were at peace.

And Lyerin, ever the strategist, knew that in the game of survival, morale could be just as powerful a weapon as any sword or spell.

However, he was also aware that this was not about morale; he was simply hungry.