Reborn As A Beastman With A System

Logan spotted Jean soaring above on her majestic Manticore and couldn't help but chuckle, remarking, "The spectacle of magic never ceases to amaze, especially when wielded by such skilled hands as yours!"

Jean, perched confidently atop her beast, replied with a smirk, "Naturally! After all, I am a sixth-level magician, am I not?"

"Why the hurry with your incantations this time around?" Logan inquired as he leapt onto the Manticore beside her.

"The thunderbird flock appeared so suddenly, alongside the magic barrier. It was all too quick," he observed.

"I simply made an educated guess!" Jean declared.

"A guess?" Logan echoed, his voice tinged with surprise.

"Indeed, a calculated one," Jean explained. "When those thunderbirds attacked and then turned toward the beastmen archers in Duskin, I anticipated they would circle back to your location. So, I preemptively cast the magic circle right above them."

"I took a gamble, really, but those dim-witted birds played right into my hands!" she said, her laughter mingling with the wind.

Logan shook his head in amused bewilderment. "Sometimes, it seems like a fool's errand meets a fool's fortune."

Suddenly, Jean's tone sharpened. "Enemy approaching!"

Logan turned sharply forward, and sure enough, two sixth-level aura warriors had them surrounded.

"You underestimate your foes at your peril!" Logan taunted as he raised his bow.

With a swift motion, he released the arrow. Whoosh! A warrior from the Duskin tribe screamed as he plummeted from the rooftop.

Kule, the other warrior, froze in horror at the sight, his advance halted by fear.

Logan spared him a dismissive glance. It wasn't yet time to strike at the Duskin tribe's leadership. The tribe was already in disarray, and precipitating further chaos would bring no advantage to the Silver Mane tribe.

"Let's pursue those beasts; they think they can escape!" Logan urged, looking northward where a flock of more than twenty thunderbirds fled in panic.

"Should we still chase them, even if more enemies might appear?" Jean questioned.

"Do you think they are like cabbages, growing in clusters?" Logan retorted, rolling his eyes at her naivety.

With a shared resolve, they urged the Manticore northward, chasing the fleeting silhouettes of the thunderbirds against the horizon.

As Logan rode away on the formidable Manticore, a beastmen named Mamuti watched with a mixture of awe and terror. His eyes were wide as he recognized Logan, the young chieftain of the Silver Mane tribe. He recalled Kule's words that the chieftain was merely a fourth-level warrior, yet now, Logan's display of strength was undeniably that of a sixth level, if not higher.

Mamuti couldn't believe it. It had been barely two months since Logan had been freed, and he couldn't fathom how someone could leap from the fourth to the sixth level in such a short span. Doubt and envy clouded his thoughts. "He must have been concealing his true power all along," Mamuti muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing with jealousy over Logan's rapid rise and prestigious status.

Meanwhile, after witnessing Logan and Jean's escape, Kule hurried to assist another warrior from his tribe, one who had just been downed by Logan's expertly aimed arrow. He found the middle-aged warrior, Habak, leaning heavily against a wall, his right shoulder pierced and blood staining the ground beneath him.

"Chief, are you okay?" Kule asked, rushing to his side, his voice laden with concern.

Habak grimaced but managed a nod. "It's nothing fatal. As long as it's not the heart or head, I can manage," he reassured Kule, knowing well the resilience of a sixth-level warrior.

"Where are the two beastmen who attacked you?" Habak asked, his voice tense.

"They've escaped on that flying beast," Kule reported, his eyes tracking the distant speck in the sky.

Habak exhaled slowly, processing the information. "From such a distance, to strike with such precision, he's no mere sixth-level warrior, he must be at least seventh-level. And with a powerful fire magician at his side, they are a formidable duo we cannot afford to provoke."

An hour later, the atmosphere in the Duskin tribal meeting hall was tense and somber. Over a dozen senior officials gathered, their expressions reflecting the gravity of their situation. The recent events signaled a growing threat, one that could no longer be ignored or underestimated.

The arrow had been skillfully removed from Habak's shoulder, and the wound was now neatly bandaged with healing salves.

"Have we accounted for all our losses?" Habak asked, his voice steady despite the pain.

Kule responded with a solemn nod. "Yes, Chief. Four hundred and seventy-eight of our warriors have fallen, and one hundred and fifty-six others are wounded. Among the dead are one hundred and thirty-six soldiers, including three of our fourth-level commanders."

The weight of the catastrophe hung heavy in the air. Just hours earlier, the tribe had been strategizing triumphantly against the Silver Mane Tribe, unaware that disaster loomed.

"I understand," Habak acknowledged grimly.

"And what of Sam?" he inquired, trying to find a silver lining amid the devastation.

"Sam has regained consciousness, but Priest Railot advises that his recovery could take up to half a year," Kule reported.

The memory of the incident caused Kule to shudder. "It was a close call. Had Sam not shielded himself with his warrior's spirit just as the lightning struck, he would not have survived."

Habak let out a relieved sigh. "To have him alive is fortunate. He's not only my brother but a cornerstone of our tribe."

Settling back into his chief's seat, Habak surveyed the downcast faces of the Duskin senior management. "We've faced a grave setback, a disaster we didn't foresee. But it's behind us now," he declared, trying to bolster the spirits of his council.

"Nevertheless, we must devise a strategy to counter the Silver Mane tribe. I invite your thoughts," Habak said, opening the floor to discussion.

Mamuti, seated among the council, watched his father with a mix of skepticism and resignation. 'Deal with the Silver Mane Tribe?' he thought bitterly. 'The chief alone has turned our tribe on its head.'

Though Mamuti had recognized Logan's extraordinary prowess and knew more about his capabilities than he let on, he chose to remain silent. When he heard his father mistakenly refer to Logan as a seventh-level strongman, he decided it was better to keep his observations to himself, unsure of how this information could tilt the already precarious balance of power.

Chief Silvermane, a seventh-level titan of combat, had evolved in power to a point that even he himself initially struggled to believe. Having been astounded by reaching the sixth level, his ascension to the seventh was nothing short of miraculous.

"But to strike down my father with a single arrow," he mused with a mix of awe and fear, "that's a feat no sixth-level warrior could achieve." This undeniable proof compelled him to acknowledge Logan as a true seventh-level behemoth.

Understanding the sheer might a seventh-level warrior wielded, he contemplated the immense potential of Logan, especially given his age. "Could he possibly step into the legendary echelons?" he wondered, the thought both exciting and daunting.

As the Silver Mane Tribe stirred with activity, his focus shifted. Perhaps allying with the vigorous tribe was his best path forward. "Only by standing with the mighty can one become mighty," he reasoned.

Truth be told, his position within his own Duskin Tribe was fraught with complexities. Bound by the strictures of inheritance, he stood no chance of leadership. His eldest brother's mother eyed him warily, as did his formidable fifth uncle and his own father, Chief Duskin.

Ever since his capture and subsequent release by the Silver Mane Tribe, he had been stripped of all authority, reducing his role to merely a ceremonial one. "What value does this tribe hold for me now?" he questioned bitterly.

With keen observation, Mamuti noted the Silver Mane Tribe's expanding influence, aware they wouldn't overlook the Duskin Tribe. Logan, younger yet unmistakably dominant and ambitious, was a force to be reckoned with.

Hours later, the skies bore witness to a remarkable sight, a manticore soaring towards the Silver Mane lands, bearing Logan and Jean. Logan, alight with triumph, had not only escalated in strength but also inflicted severe losses on the Duskin Tribe.

Among the spoils were twenty-seven Thunderbirds, though regret lingered over the escape of the three mightiest Tier 4 birds. As they neared the ground, Jean, peering down at the bustling activity below, exclaimed in wonder, "Wow, look ahead, so many people!"

Logan glanced below, his eyes catching the swathes of tribesmen harvesting a vast expanse of ripe rye. His heart swelled with pride at the sight of his thriving people, their labors a testament to the tribe's growing prosperity.

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