Reborn As A Beastman With A System

"But remember, we may not head north, yet we can extend our searches to the east and south, particularly along the Tara Hills. It's there we might find many in need," Logan continued, outlining his plan to welcome survivors from all backgrounds, including beastman of any race.

Originally, this inclusive strategy met with resistance from Barnett and others in the tribe.

In time, however, even old Grandpa Barnett conceded, aligning with Logan's vision.

Logan aspired to rule not just as a king among his wolf kins, but as an emperor over all beastmen. To him, integration was essential, uniting the varied tribes was the only way to achieve his lofty goal.

Yet, his leadership style balanced mercy with ruthlessness. "While I am open to accepting all," he declared, "any beastmen who challenges our laws will face severe consequences."

Integrating the beastmen tribes wasn't seen as particularly challenging, given their shared identity. Despite the internal diversity, all recognized themselves as part of the greater orcish race, albeit split into different branches.

But Logan sometimes pondered the absurdity of this notion. "To group all orcs under one identity seems as preposterous as lumping all humans together, regardless of their distinct races," he mused. "Just as high elves differ from gray elves, there's a world of difference between a us and a Quilboar."

"Surely the notion that wolves and pigs are of the same lineage is as absurd as it sounds, isn't it?" Logan mused aloud, reflecting on the complex tapestry of orcish kinship.

"In a way, the term 'beastmen' serves as a banner uniting numerous diverse clans," he continued thoughtfully. "But, let's not get bogged down in semantics. If the tribes don't embrace their beastal identity, how can I aspire to rule them all?"

"Alright, Airlan, head back!" commanded Jean.

With a majestic twist in the air, Manticore executed an elegant turnaround. But just as it had cleared a few dozen meters, a sharp hiss cut through the air, and the creature abruptly wheeled around again. It possessed the head of a lion and a mouth brimming with fierce teeth, yet it issued a noise eerily reminiscent of a scorpion's warning.

"Airlan, what troubles you?" Jean inquired urgently, reaching out to soothe Manticore's furrowed brow.

The manticore responded with another roar, its gaze fixed intently on the distant Black Wind Mountains.

"Something out there has marked us for attention!" Logan quickly deduced, releasing Jean's hand to brace himself atop Manticore's back, his hand firmly gripping the hilt of his wolf scimitar.

"Are we being targeted by monsters?" Jean gasped, her face blanching at the thought.

"Stay calm," Logan reassured her, his voice steady. "It seems to be a creature of equal might to Airlan."

Manticore's intelligence was not to be underestimated. It would never linger if faced with a superior foe; retreat would be immediate. Only a challenge from an equal would provoke such a stance.

Suddenly, a piercing cry echoed from the Black Wind Mountains. From its depths, a vast gray-white avian beast surged skyward, answering Manticore's challenge with a fierce screech.

Logan and Jean watched intently as the creature revealed itself. It bore the head of an eagle and sported ornate curls like those of a phoenix upon its neck. Its body was sleek, adorned with six wings and armed with sharp claws and a lengthy tail. The feathers were a mix of gray and white, resembling the ominous calm before a storm.

This formidable bird was only marginally smaller than Manticore, hinting at a potential battle of titanic proportions.

"Warcraft: Thunderbird

Level: 5 (approaching Level 6)

Attributes: Thunder, Water, Wind

..."

Logan studied the creature's attributes and commented, "Though it's nearing Level 6, it still belongs to the Level 3 class of monster."

The Thunderbird, despite its thunderous appearance, primarily harnessed the powers of water, summoning storms with each roar. Adding the wind attribute seemed an overkill.

"Not all flying beasts are graced with the wind's prowess," Logan noted with a hint of concern.

"What are we to do?" Jean fretted. "Although Airlan is a capable flyer, she is outmatched in the skies. Her strengths lie in ground combat."

Logan reassured her, "Take heart, Jean. This Thunderbird wields thunder, water, and wind, a tri-elemental adversary. Yet, should it dare to swoop close, Airlan will seize her opportunity."

Jean's prowess was formidable, though her actual combat experience was nearly nonexistent, making her apprehension understandable.

Logan felt a twinge of misfortune. "If only I had thought to bring a bow or a crossbow," he mused regretfully.

Just then, the Thunderbird, having observed them for a while, emitted a sharp cry and surged into action.

"So swift, Ellan is struggling!" Logan's eyes narrowed as the Thunderbird demonstrated astonishing speed.

True to its nature, the Thunderbird was not just a flyer; it was an embodiment of the wind element, agile and blisteringly fast, unlike the Manticore whose wind attribute merely granted it flight.

Reacting to Logan's alarmed shout, Manticore plunged downwards at breakneck speed.

The Thunderbird streaked through the sky like a living tempest. Observing Logan and his companions dive for cover, it let out another defiant chirp, wheeled around, and prepared to strike once more, its presence as threatening as a brewing storm.

"Here we go again," Logan muttered with a grimace as the battle's intensity heightened.

"Airlan, brace yourself!" he shouted, witnessing Airlan's precarious position.

Beneath Logan, Manticore surged upward once more, evading the relentless Thunderbird.

"You're being too defensive!" Logan exclaimed in frustration. They were trapped, with neither escape nor the strength to confront their adversary head-on.

"Airlan, take the lead!" Jean commanded, rising to his feet with a decisive air.

In response, Manticore beat its wings furiously, propelling them high into the sky with astonishing speed.

Logan cursed under his breath, caught off guard by Jean's audacious maneuver. Had the Manticore's golden mane not been so robust, he would have surely been thrown off.

"What in the world are you planning?" Logan demanded, regaining his balance as Manticore stabilized.

Jean's red hair streamed in the wind, framing her determined profile strikingly against the sky.

"I'm going to show this creature the power of true magic. Remember, I am a Level Six Mage," she retorted confidently.

"But you've always said spellcasting shouldn't be rushed," Logan countered skeptically. He had witnessed Jean's fiery magic annihilate a wight before, but her incantations were notoriously slow. Against agile foes like the Thunderbird, who could strike before a spell was cast, her magic seemed futile.

"Indeed, casting intermediate spells in the heat of battle is impractical. But basic magic?" Jean's voice was tinged with resolve. As she spoke, she conjured two blazing orbs of fire in her palms and hurled them at the swooping Thunderbird.

With a resounding crack, the fireballs struck the Thunderbird's wings and erupted into flames. The fire clung to the feathers momentarily, and Logan held his breath, hoping to see the beast falter. But just as quickly as they had ignited, the flames vanished, leaving the Thunderbird merely startled but unscathed as it soared away at a lower altitude, its pride more wounded than its body.

"No, that fireball was merely basic, low-level fire magic; it can't harm it!" Logan shook his head in dismay.

"Was it too small?" Jean inquired, eyebrow raised in thought.

Logan remained silent, pondering the question. Was size truly the factor?

Jean, undeterred by his silence, didn't wait for an answer. As the Thunderbird swooped in for another attack, the fireball in her hand swelled to a formidable size, four to five times larger than before. The Thunderbird, noting the increased threat, approached with heightened caution, clearly rattled by the escalation.

That was all it took. Jean unleashed a relentless barrage of fireballs, rockets, and musket shots, engaging the Thunderbird in a fierce aerial duel that lasted over ten rounds.

Logan watched helplessly, frustration mounting as Jean, seemingly engrossed in her onslaught, continued her assault.

Desperate to intervene but lacking any means of escape, Logan felt trapped in the unfolding chaos.

"Get back, Airlan!" Jean's voice cracked through the air in urgency. Logan flinched as a streak of lightning zipped perilously close, shearing the air above him.

"Damn, you've enraged the Thunderbird now!" Logan cursed.

"Airlan, dodge!"

"To your right, Airlan quickly!"

Amidst the commands, the Thunderbird, provoked beyond patience by Jean's attacks, retaliated with increased ferocity. Every approach of the beast was marked by a fierce bolt of lightning, threatening to strike them down.

Logan' skin tingled with fear at the sight. "Today might truly be our end," he murmured, the gravity of their situation sinking in.

"What if we try landing?" Jean suggested, her voice tinged with a rare note of fear as another bolt of lightning cracked close by.

"No, it's too risky! On the ground, this beast's speed will surely outmatch us, and we'll be sitting ducks!" Logan immediately dismissed the idea.

"Here we go again!" he sighed as the Thunderbird, growing impatient, intensified its attacks, speeding up and striking more frequently.

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