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The notification still hung in his vision, the sweet sound of triumph echoing in his ears.

Ding!

[ The Stonehooves Tribe Spirit has been elevated to level three. ]

Lyerin\'s lips curled into a grin as he surveyed the remaining participants.

The Sevarin, Volcaris, and Thrylos clans were the last remnants of resistance in this city of blood and ruin.

He could feel their presence in the distance, scattered, but strong. It was time to wipe them out.

With a gesture, his Pig Orcs moved, their eyes gleaming with newfound power.

They had evolved along with the Stonehooves Tribe Spirit, their strength growing with each battle.

Their muscles bulged with the same ferocity as Minotaurs, and their wounds only seemed to make them stronger, feeding off the pain like it was fuel for their bloodlust.

But Lyerin wasn\'t satisfied yet. His tribe had grown to level three, but there were still more enemies to crush.

He needed to destroy the Tidalblade Clan, the Moltenfist Tribe, and the Mindspire Circle. Only then would his dominance be complete.

---

Sevarin: Tidalblade Clan

Representative: Marinus Tidecaller

The Tidalblade Clan had taken refuge near the harbor, their elemental magic in sync with the raging ocean nearby.

Marinus Tidecaller, their leader, was a tall, imposing figure with the aura of the sea itself.

Water churned around him, spiraling like sentient tendrils ready to strike. He stood atop the pier, watching as the tides crashed violently against the shore.

"They\'re coming," Marinus said, his voice calm but edged with tension.

Behind him, the Sevarin warriors, lithe and swift as the currents they controlled, prepared for battle.

Their tridents gleamed, and their bodies moved like water, flowing with grace and lethal precision.

They had been watching Lyerin\'s advance, understanding the danger he posed.

"Prepare the defenses," Marinus ordered, raising his hands to the sky. The ocean responded to his command, and waves surged higher, forming a barrier between the shore and the city. "He will not pass."

But Lyerin was not interested in engaging in a protracted fight.

As his Pig Orcs approached the harbor, their grotesque forms illuminated by the dull light of the overcast sky, Lyerin raised his hand, and a single gesture sent them charging forward.

The first wave of Sevarin warriors struck, water tendrils lashing out, but the Pig Orcs absorbed the blows, their bodies swelling with power.

They roared, growing stronger with each strike, and when they retaliated, their strength was terrifying.

Lyerin watched with a quiet satisfaction as his Pig Orcs began to overpower the Sevarin.

Marinus tried to summon the full might of the ocean, but it wasn\'t enough.

Lyerin\'s tribe was relentless, tearing through the water defenses with brute strength and crushing the Sevarin warriors beneath their feet.

In the end, Marinus Tidecaller fell, his body thrown into the ocean by a massive Pig Orc, swallowed by the very tides he had commanded.

---

Volcaris: Moltenfist Tribe

Representative: Ignar Flameheart

The Moltenfist Tribe had entrenched themselves in the industrial district, where the air was thick with the stench of molten metal and fire.

Ignar Flameheart, their representative, stood atop a smoldering platform, his fists ablaze with volcanic heat.

He was a hulking figure, his skin glowing with embers and his eyes burning with rage.

"Let him come," Ignar growled, his voice like the rumble of an erupting volcano. "We\'ll melt him down like slag."

His tribe, the Volcaris, were creatures of fire and fury.

They had taken the molten pits and turned them into fortresses, their forges spewing smoke into the sky.

The very ground beneath them trembled with the heat of the magma that ran through their veins.

But Lyerin was no fool. He knew that a direct assault against the Volcaris would be dangerous.

Instead, he unleashed a barrage of explosive stones, sending them flying into the heart of the industrial complex.

The buildings erupted in flames, and the ground shook as explosions rippled through the district.

The Pig Orcs, their bodies enhanced with the strength of the Minotaurs, charged into the inferno, their flesh scorched but unyielding.

They fought with reckless abandon, smashing through the defenses and overwhelming the Volcaris with sheer brute force.

Ignar Flameheart roared, his fists blazing as he fought back, but Lyerin\'s Pig Orcs were relentless.

Even as Ignar unleashed his volcanic fury, melting the ground beneath him, the Pig Orcs only grew stronger, their rage fueled by the heat of the battle

In the end, Ignar was consumed by his own flames, his body reduced to molten slag as the Pig Orcs razed the industrial district to the ground.

---

Thrylos: Mindspire Circle

Representative: Vetrax Mindbender

The Mindspire Circle had taken refuge in the old university district, their psychic powers bending reality around them.

Vetrax Mindbender, the leader of the Thrylos, sat atop a spire of cracked stone, his mind extending far beyond the physical realm.

His pale skin and elongated head marked him as a master of psychic manipulation, and his eyes gleamed with otherworldly knowledge.

"The others have fallen," Vetrax murmured, his voice echoing in the minds of his followers. "But we will not."

The Thrylos warriors, their minds linked in a psychic network, stood ready.

They were fewer in number than the other tribes, but their psychic abilities made them a formidable force.

They could bend the minds of their enemies, turning them against each other with a mere thought.

But Lyerin had prepared for this.

As his Pig Orcs approached the university, he activated the Stonehooves Tribe Spirit\'s new ability:

Mindshield.

A shimmering barrier of psychic energy surrounded his tribe, protecting them from the Mindspire Circle\'s manipulations.

Vetrax\'s eyes widened in shock as he realized what was happening. "Impossible!" he hissed. "He\'s... resistant to our powers!"

The Pig Orcs, unhindered by the psychic attacks because of their adaptation, charged forward, their massive forms smashing through the Mindspire\'s defenses.

Vetrax tried to rally his forces, but it was too late. The Pig Orcs tore through the Mindspire warriors with terrifying efficiency, their bodies immune to the mental assaults that had once crippled their enemies.

In the end, Vetrax was left alone, his mind shattered by the overwhelming force of Lyerin\'s tribe.

The once-great psychic master was reduced to a broken husk, his body limp as the Pig Orcs crushed him beneath their feet.

---

Meanwhile, high above in the shadowy realm, the Overseer and the six-handed shadows watched in growing horror.

They had seen the impossible: Lyerin\'s tribe had evolved to level three, and with each new victory, they became more powerful.

"This is abnormal!" one of the shadows cried out, its voice trembling. "How can a participant like Lyerin rise so quickly? He\'s not supposed to have access to the resources needed to elevate his tribal spirit to such a level!"

"We should end this now," another shadow growled. "Absorb Earth like we do with the planets of losers. It\'s the only way to stop this madness."

But the Overseer, his expression grim, shook his head. "No. If we do that, the other planets under the Asura Empire will rebel. They\'ll see this as a sign of weakness, and we cannot afford that."

"Then what do we do?" one of the shadows asked, desperation creeping into its voice.

The Overseer\'s eyes gleamed with dark intent. "We send the Elite Elves of the Asura Army. Let them deal with Lyerin and his tribe. They are the only ones capable of stopping him now."

The shadows fell silent, their forms flickering in the dim light. The decision had been made.

The Elite Elves of the Asura Army were coming for Lyerin.

And the true battle was about to begin.