Reborn As A Beastman With A System

Approaching the Tribe Warehouse, Logan realized, albeit with a hint of amusement, that he had never actually known its location until just now.

Nestled between the manufacturing workshop and the blacksmith shop, he had passed this seemingly derelict structure before, dismissing it as nothing more than an abandoned relic. Yet, standing before it now, he was struck by its size and the paradox of its ramshackle appearance contrasted with the rigorous security measures in place.

As Logan and began neared, a officer charged with the warehouse's security hurried over to greet them with a salute.

"Open the door!" Logan commanded.

"Right away!" the officer responded, signaling to four other officers stationed at the entrance. Together, they heaved against the warehouse door, straining to open it.

Logan watched, puzzled. Could a door so battered be that burdensome?

His question was answered as the doors swung open, revealing their surprising thickness, half a meter of solid wood. The exterior belied the strength within, a clever disguise for such a critical stronghold.

Noticing Logan's amazed expression, Begon chuckled softly. "Looks can be deceiving, right?"

Logan rapped his knuckles against the stout wood, its surface rough and worn yet undeniably sturdy beneath the facade of decay. It was a fitting metaphor for their tribe: resilient, enduring, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Upon hearing his uncle Begon's words, Logan nodded in acknowledgment, clearly intrigued.

"Actually, not quite," Begon began, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shook his head. "This warehouse has been standing since your grandfather founded the Silver Mane Tribe over sixty years ago."

"It once fell prey to flames set by a rival tribe decades ago. In response, we fortified it uniquely. The timber used, stone iron wood, is almost as durable as actual iron. To enhance its resistance to fire, we filled the core with a thick layer of molten iron, creating a barrier over twenty centimeters thick inside the door itself. That's why it's so incredibly heavy."

Begon's eyes sparkled with a hint of excitement. "And there's more to this place than meets the eye!"

Logan mused to himself, impressed by the clever construction. The stone iron wood, tough yet vulnerable to fire, reinforced with iron juice, ensured that even if the exterior burnt, the contents would remain unscathed.

He knew the warehouse stored the tribe's vital supplies, essentially its lifeblood, warranting such robust protection.

Testing the door's heft, Logan pushed against the three-meter-high barrier, which didn't budge, an immovable mass seemingly weighing tons.

"Anything else of interest?" Logan asked, his curiosity piqued, wondering about the secrets that might lie within.

Begon smiled knowingly and gestured for him to step inside.

Inside, the warehouse was lined with rows of wooden shelves stocked with an array of items: armor, weapons, leathers from dragons and mice, and various handcrafted goods.

"Where's the food?" Logan asked, scanning the vast space. He remembered Begon mentioning the purchase of nearly 90,000 kilograms of rye, enough to fill a significant portion of the warehouse.

Indeed, the transaction should have resulted in nine hundred bags of rye, enough to occupy a fifth of the warehouse space.

Yet, apart from the items he had already noted, the space appeared surprisingly empty.

His uncle Begon continued to smile, his expression suggesting that the answer to this mystery was just around the corner.

Begon's face broke into a sly grin as he maneuvered a large wooden frame aside. Squatting down, he grasped an iron ring embedded in the floor and yanked hard, unveiling a two-square-meter iron plate that swung open to reveal a hidden opening below.

Logan gasped, taken aback by the revelation. A true mystery lay beneath!

Peering into the darkness, his eyes adjusted as light spilled in from above, illuminating a vast space below.

"All the food is stored down there!" Begon announced, then descended into the shadows. Moments later, the area below flickered to life with light.

Begon's voice echoed up, "Come down!"

Hesitant but intrigued, Logan followed, stepping onto a staircase that led downward. As he descended, the stairs transitioned into a sloped corridor, drawing him deeper underground. By his estimate, they were at least thirty meters beneath the surface when he reached the bottom.

What he saw next left him astounded, a massive underground chamber, several times the size of the warehouse above, repurposed and aged, with signs of moisture aging some of the wooden structures.

"This entire space was originally a small copper mine," Begon began, as they walked through the expansive area. "By the time your grandfather discovered it, the copper had already been depleted."

He gestured around, "This is the main chamber, and it connects to several smaller offshoots. As kids, your father, your uncles, and I used to play here. Sometimes, your grandfather would use this space to teach us combat skills."

"With your father's ascension as chief, he transformed it into a underground granary to safeguard our provisions." Begon's narrative filled the cavernous room as Logan absorbed the grandeur and history enveloping them.

Logan surveyed the neatly stacked grain in a corner and the thoughtful conversion of the space. "I see, but it's really secure down here!" he nodded, appreciating the ingenuity of using such a hidden stronghold for storage.

Had it not been for his uncle Begon, Logan would never have discovered such a secure enclave within the tribal warehouse.

Silently, Logan approached the grain pile and began releasing the wheat from the system storage, the volumes of grain appearing in real-time.

As Logan stepped back, a sizable mound of food materialized, ten thousand kilograms, precisely one hundred bags, with the system inventory allocated by grid units, each holding a hundred bags. He repeated the process thirty-four times.

"Uncle, we now have a total of 334,700 kilograms of wheat here," Logan announced, watching for Begon's reaction.

Begon stared in utter astonishment at the small mountain of grain before him, struggling to grasp the reality of what he was seeing. He pulled a bag closer, tore it open, and ran his fingers through the wheat, lifting a handful to inspect.

"Good! Good! Good!" he exclaimed, each word laden with approval and amazement.

Logan observed his uncle's excitement with a detached air, noting inwardly how deeply invested Begon was in the well-being of the tribe. In another life, perhaps his uncle would have made an excellent chief.

"White wheat?" Begon suddenly gasped, his surprise turning to sheer disbelief.

"Yes, this white wheat cost less than the rye you bought!" Logan replied with a chuckle, revealing the frugality of his purchase.

He had spent just over 300 gold coins on this vast quantity of white wheat, whereas Begon had used almost 90% of the tribe's savings, around 120 to 130 gold coins, to buy more than 90,000 kilograms of rye.

Logan had his reasons for shunning rye; its rough texture and the dense, hard bread it produced were almost inedible to him. With a slight difference in price and his current financial flexibility, opting for the more palatable white wheat had been an easy decision for him.

"What it's cheaper than rye?" Begon was skeptical, knowing the usual market rates where white wheat typically fetched nearly double the price of rye.

Then, Logan began to share his foresighted strategy, explaining how he secured such a deal on the white wheat, casting light on a future that promised more than just sustenance for their tribe.

Upon hearing this, Begon couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "So that's how it stands."

He sighed, a trace of regret lining his voice. "I certainly didn't fare well with this batch of rye. Had I let my nephew handle the purchase, we might have secured tens of thousands more kilograms, and of the finer white wheat no less."

"That young lady's name is Jean, isn't it?" Begon queried, turning his attention to his nephew. He remembered greeting her the previous evening.

Observing the wolf girl's attire and demeanor, Begon could immediately tell she was from a notable lineage, perhaps the progeny of a significant tribal leader or a powerful figure.

And she wasn't just any ordinary girl; the monster she commanded was far mightier than any he had encountered.

His nephew had ventured out and returned with such an impressive companion. Begon couldn't help but be impressed by his nephew's prowess.

Yet, his admiration was mingled with concern. His nephew might hold the title of chief, but compared to the larger tribes and formidable entities like Jean's family, their Silver Mane Tribe seemed insignificant.

"Could it be possible for her to agree to marry into our tribe and become the chief's wife?" Begon pondered aloud, his thoughts swirling with the implications of such a union.

Logan caught his uncle Begon's inquisitive glance. He was taken aback by his uncle's uncharacteristic behavior, Begon was usually stern during discussions.

However, today was different. After their visit to the tribe's warehouse, Begon's usual frostiness had thawed into a warm and affable demeanor which even surprised him.

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