Reborn As A Beastman With A System

On the eastern fringe of an immense, forested mountain range, stretching thousands of kilometers into the heart of the continent, lay a small encampment. Nestled among ancient trees whose roots whispered of ages past, the camp was alive with the hushed anticipation of dozens of warriors clad in battle-worn armor, their breaths mingling with the morning mist.

At the very heart of this martial assembly, a young man could be found sprawled indolently upon the lush grass, which grew tall enough to conceal a fully grown man. A casual observer might mistake him for a carefree human youth, but a closer inspection would reveal startling anomalies.

His ears, large and tufted, twitched occasionally, while his facial features, though predominantly human, were accentuated by a distinctly lupine black nose and two menacing fangs that glinted ominously. His hair, a magnificent cascade of white that deepened into shades of blue at the tips, framed his face like the majestic mane of a mythic beast.

This was no ordinary young man; he was a Wolf-man, belonging to the storied Beastman tribes of the region.

Indeed, the boy was Covinas, a werewolf of the Silver Mane Tribe, and the encircling warriors, far from human, were his kin and guardians. Their presence here was no mere chance; they were on a mission, under the guidance of their young chief, who, despite his non-human appearance, had an origin story as unusual as his current guise.

Suddenly, from the dense thicket that bordered their temporary abode, emerged a figure of imposing stature, nearly three meters in height, racing towards the camp. The assembled Wolf warriors, far from alarmed, prepared for the arrival. This figure, a scout, halted before Covinas, dropping to one knee with a mix of reverence and urgency.

"Report to the young chief, we've located the wolf pack, three miles hence!" he announced.

Covinas, momentarily roused from his repose, queried with a newfound alertness, "So quickly? And their numbers?"

This young chief, known among his people as Covinus, bore another name in a life now distant— Damien. Merely two months prior, he had been an ordinary human, embarking on an adventure in Indian Creek with friends, only to find himself inexplicably transported to this world and transformed into a Wolf Beastman on the cusp of adulthood.

Adopted into the Silver Mane Tribe, he found not just a new identity but a title of considerable prestige. As the chief's eldest son, he was thrust into a role of leadership among a people both ancient and resilient, neither the strongest nor the weakest of the neighboring tribes but proud and fierce nonetheless.

Covinus, or Damien, was initially bewildered by his sudden translocation and transformation. However, he soon embraced his new reality, especially upon discovering the existence of gods, magicians, warriors, thieves, knights, and an array of fantastical professions in this world. His enthusiasm for this discovery knew no bounds, fueled by his prior life as an aficionado of fantasy and adventure.

Yet, he was quickly humbled by the arduous path to power in a world where strength was both a gift and a hard-won achievement. The young chief was determined, though. His new life among the Silver Mane Tribe promised him an opportunity to ascend to heights of power and influence he had never dared dream of in his previous, human existence.

On this fateful day, Covinus ventured to the edge of the enigmatic Black Wind Mountains, his heart set on a bold endeavor—to capture a pack of wolves. For a Beastman of his standing, the mastery of a wolves cavalry, or the even more prestigious frost wolf cavalry, represented the pinnacle of military might within the wolf type beastman tribes.

The Silvermane Tribe, to which Covinus belonged, indeed had its own wolves cavalry, albeit a modest one. The scarcity was twofold: firstly, the wolves had begun to suffer from the effects of inbreeding due to a lack of fresh blood within the ranks, leading to a high mortality rate among the pups.

Secondly, the tribe's resources were stretched thin, barely managing to sustain the current pack of over a hundred, with a significant majority being male wolves designated for his adoptive father's elite forces.

Covinus stumbled upon this untamed group of wolves by chance over a month ago. Given the vast and perilous expanse of the Black Wind Mountains, home to creatures of legend and lore, venturing deep into its heart was a risk Covinus was not willing to take lightly. Yet, the opportunity to bolster his tribe's strength with these wild wolves was too enticing to ignore.

"A total count, including the cubs, numbers over one hundred and twenty," reported a beastman guard with due reverence.

"It's peculiar indeed that the pack's alpha is but a third-level wolf," Covinus mused, puzzled by the anomaly. Despite the oddity, the chance to enhance his tribe's cavalry was an opportunity he was determined not to let slip through his fingers.

With resolve, he commanded, "Prepare yourselves, we move at once," addressing the assembly of fifty or so towering Wolf-man warriors that formed his personal guard. Each warrior, standing at a formidable 2.8 meters, represented a significant force, a gift from his adoptive father and a symbol of his high status within the tribe.

Possessing a private army was a privilege rarely granted, marking Covinus's unique position. The entire tribe boasted only seven to eight hundred adult warriors, making his personal guard a significant and rare asset.

The allowance of such a personal force by his adoptive father was a mystery to Covinus, diverging from the norm where leaders seldom permit heirs to wield their own military might, especially in such disproportionate numbers.

Despite the puzzling nature of his father's decision, Covinus embraced this advantage with open arms, recognizing the strength and protection it afforded him and his ambitions for the Silvermane Tribe.

Covinus had handpicked each of the fifty-plus warriors under his command, ensuring that every individual was an elite among their kind. Their unity and prowess were unmatched, a testament to his discerning eye and leadership.

With a unified cry of assent, they plunged into the dense underbrush of the jungle, their movements swift and silent. Covinus, a formidable fourth-level warrior himself, led this elite squadron. His warriors, no less impressive, were all at least second-level fighters, lending their group an extraordinary speed and agility.

In mere moments, they had stealthily navigated the terrain to position themselves less than two hundred meters from their target—a pack of wolves. Covinus, with a strategic whisper, commanded, "Spread out with caution. Our priority is to secure the mother wolf and her offspring."

His warriors nodded, understanding the importance of his directive. Capturing the young wolves was crucial for breeding purposes, allowing for the integration of these fierce creatures into their cavalry from a tender age. While the adult wargs presented a challenge to tame, their tribe was well-equipped with skilled trainers ready for the task.

Nonetheless, securing the adults was a risky endeavor with a lower chance of success.

Suddenly, a keen-eyed warrior whispered urgently to Covinus, pointing towards their quarry. Covinus's gaze sharpened as he assessed the pack leader—a level 3 Wolf with the wind attribute and a host of skills. Knowledge of the creature's capabilities flooded his mind.

"This alpha is weaker than expected. Securing it could ensure our dominion over the entire pack," Covinus mused, a plan forming in his mind.

He swiftly ordered, "Bring me the advanced animal trap."

The command was met with immediate action as a werewolf warrior handed him the sophisticated device designed to ensnare creatures up to level 5. Covinus examined the trap, confidence surging within him. This tool was more than capable of capturing the alpha, a pivotal move in their strategy.

Meanwhile, the warg pack, oblivious to the impending threat, continued their peaceful existence mere meters away. The cubs frolicked under the watchful eyes of their mother, while the alpha lay nearby, a picture of serene authority.

Without warning, Covinus darted through the forest canopy, closing the distance to the alpha with astonishing speed. Simultaneously, his warriors emerged from their hidden positions, encircling the pack with precision and stealth. The trap was set, and the moment of action had arrived, marking the beginning of a significant chapter for the Silvermane Tribe and its young chief.

The moment the alpha warg sensed danger, it sprang to its feet, its instincts kicking in to let out a warning howl. But before a sound could escape its throat, a massive net, heavy as if laden with a thousand kilograms of stone, plummeted from the sky.

The alpha, in a desperate attempt to dodge, twisted its body, but the net descended with relentless speed, ensnaring it completely in its unyielding grasp.

Simultaneously, a rain of precisely targeted traps descended upon the unsuspecting pack, ensnaring cubs and adult wargs alike in their unforgiving hold.

"Don't bother struggling. You, a mere level three creature, haven't the slightest chance of breaking free from this net!" Covinus declared from his vantage point on a nearby tree. He watched with a mix of satisfaction and resolve as the alpha warg gnashed its teeth futilely against the net, even as it conjured wind magic in a frantic bid for freedom.

Just then, several wolves, by sheer luck or intelligence, evaded the initial onslaught and charged with ferocious determination towards Covinus, their intent clear—they sought to rescue their alpha.

With a scoff, Covinus faced the oncoming threat head-on. "As if a handful of second-level wolves could intimidate me!" he taunted. With a swift, powerful punch, he sent one of the attackers reeling through the air, its cry of agony echoing through the forest.

Not stopping there, Covinus moved with a blur of speed, his feet leaving afterimages in the air as he dealt with two more assailants trying to flank him. They too were launched away with screams of defeat, leaving no doubt about the young chief's formidable battle prowess.

Covinus's display of power served not only as a stern rebuke to the wargs' futile resistance but also as a stark reminder of the strength and authority he wielded.

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