Reborn As A Beastman With A System

"Please, take a seat," Logan said, gesturing broadly to the plush chairs arranged around the polished oak table.

Begon, his uncle, nodded appreciatively and chose a seat next to Logan, who also found himself a chair directly across. The room settled into a quiet anticipation.

Logan's eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and respect as he spoke, "The Duskin tribe is truly magnanimous. To think they sent us a sixth-level powerhouse as an envoy."

The messenger from Duskin, Kule, maintained a composed facade, though his expression faltered ever so slightly. Despite his control, it was clear that Logan had seen through his considerable strength.

Could it be that our intelligence was flawed? Kule pondered, scrutinizing Logan. Is he not merely a fourth-level warrior as we presumed? After a moment, he dismissed the thought. The difference between the fifth and sixth levels was too great; sixth-level warriors could harness and project their fighting spirit, manifesting it through combat techniques.

In contrast, those below that threshold contained their spirit solely within their bodies, each advancement refining and enhancing their physical form until the fifth level, where their peak physical condition allowed them to channel the spirit outwardly.

And yet, Logan's aura suggested he hadn't breached the fifth level.

Overhearing the exchange, Begon expressed his astonishment, "You've ascended to the sixth level? It's remarkable to see such progress after all these years apart."

Kule chuckled, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Indeed, fortune smiled upon me. I joined a prominent mercenary group last year and received mentorship from an eighth-level lieutenant. It was that guidance that ushered me to the sixth level."

His smile widened as he turned to Begon, "You should venture out more, old friend. Your potential has always surpassed mine. Staying confined within the tribe's daily squabbles, never testing yourself in real combat, it's truly a waste of your talents."

Begon remained impassive, reflecting on their past. They had been close, taking on the mercenary path together years ago. Time had passed, and now, after nearly a decade, Kule stood before him, transformed and vastly more powerful.

For nearly a decade, Begon had been mired at the fifth level, his time consumed by the burdens of tribal governance, causing his martial prowess to languish.

He had nearly resigned himself to this fate, but witnessing his old comrade Kule stride past the formidable barrier that had long thwarted him stirred a dormant fire within him.

Kule, facing Logan, explained the purpose of his visit with a note of urgency. "The chief dispatched me because the wilderness has grown perilously chaotic, and it's simply too unsafe for less capable hands!"

Logan raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet not overly concerned by the revelation of Kule's familiarity with his uncle. "Indeed, the wilderness are fraught with peril. However, I suspect your chiefs might take a leaf out of our book on how to manage these dangers," he replied with an easy smile.

Kule offered a sheepish grin in response, his discomfort visible. His tribe, the Duskins, had sent him as a safeguard against the predatory Silver Mane tribe, which had recently inflicted significant losses on them. This tension not only heightened the other tribes' vigilance towards both Silver Mane and Duskin but also strained Duskin's trade relations, impacting their smaller ventures severely.

"Let's cut to the chase," Logan shifted the conversation to pressing matters. "When will the 60,000 kilograms of grain be delivered?"

Kule sighed, weighing his words carefully. "Given the food shortages, Chief Silvermane, we propose a payment in gold coins instead."

A mamut could transport 50,000 kilograms and an escort of werewolf warriors accounting for another 10,000 kilograms, were complicated by a worsening famine that made the availability of grain unpredictable at best.

Logan paused, taken aback by the shift from grain to gold, but then he nodded in understanding. "Gold coins are indeed more straightforward under these circumstances," he conceded, recognizing the practicality of the alternative amidst the crisis.

Seeing Logan's acquiescence, Kule quickly laid out their offer: "The sixty thousand kilograms of grain will be valued at the current market price for rye, totaling fifty-eight gold coins."

He added with a hopeful tone, "Moreover, our chief requests that in exchange for one hundred gold coins, your tribe returns all the captured wargs to us."

"Impossible!" Logan responded immediately after Kule finished. His voice was firm, betraying no room for negotiation. "We've seized fifty-four wargs from your tribe. At five gold coins each, that totals nearly three hundred gold coins. And you propose to settle this with just forty-two gold coins?"

Kule's brow furrowed in frustration. "But those wargs are rightfully ours..."

He tried a different angle, "Plus, your tribe is still facing a food shortage, correct? If you return the Wolf to us, I'm authorized to add an extra fifty gold coins. With the increasing scarcity of food, that money could help your tribe stock up."

It was well-known, though not openly acknowledged, that the Duskin had their informants within the Silver Mane tribe, aware of their limited food reserves.

Logan laughed off the proposal, the strategy clear in his mind. "Thank you for your generosity, envoy. However, the warg is a strategic asset, especially now as the wilderness grows ever more turbulent. If we decide to sell, finding buyers won't be difficult. So, if you're interested, you'll need to meet the market price."

Logan knew too well the strategic importance of the wargs, especially given the current shortage. There was no way he'd release them at such a steep discount as proposed by Chief Duskin.

"Uncle, please escort our guest to finalize the trade," Logan said, dismissing the meeting with a decisive wave.

Kule opened his mouth, perhaps to suggest the fifty gold coins weren't his final offer, but Logan turned away, signaling the end of the discussion. Begon stood up, ready to lead Kule out, leaving the envoy to contemplate his limited options.

As they exited the council hall, Kule resigned himself to relay the outcome to his chief and to consider their next move.

Logan tapped into his tribal system interface, intrigued by a recent notification. It seemed another member of his tribe had made a significant advancement.

"Activate system interface," he commanded.

The display sprang to life, presenting a detailed overview:

Name: Logan

Age: 10 years old

Occupation: Fourth-level warrior (Experience: 62/100)

Prestige: 1678 (Threshold: 1000)

Practice Level: 6/10

Position: Chief of the Silver Mane Tribe

Nation: 3873

Military Forces: 753 warriors, 206 Warg Cavalry

Stables: Warg...

Territory: 1620 square kilometers

Marketplace: Open

Professional Inheritance: Open

Sub-professional Inheritance: Open

Logan noted the update in the warrior ranks, a second-level warrior had ascended to the third level. This brought the total to four warriors advancing in just the past fortnight. His own experience points had also increased, from fifty-eight to sixty-two.

Yet, these advancements paled in comparison to the surge in his prestige since his rousing speech about constructing a warrior temple, which had boosted his reputation by over 1,200 points and it was still climbing. Logan pondered the mysterious influx of reputation. With over 3,000 tribe members, the numbers didn't quite add up.

His reputation now far exceeded the 1,000-point threshold. He wrestled with the decision to break through to the fifth level, tempted by the power it would confer. However, he also recognized the value of his reputation as a reserve to be tapped during emergencies, especially given the tribe's looming food crisis. It could prove crucial for survival, a way to trade prestige for much-needed supplies.

In the end, Logan decided against upgrading. Retaining his reputation points could be vital in times of need, and he could always opt to increase his warrior level later.

About half an hour later, Begon reentered the council chambers.

"The Duskin werewolf prisoner has been escorted away," he reported succinctly, confirming the departure of the captured foe.

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