Reborn As A Beastman With A System

Indeed, adversity breeds opportunity, at least that's how Logan viewed the early signs of famine sweeping across the land. While small and medium-sized tribes scrambled to ration their dwindling food supplies and barter their goods, pots, iron, anything of value, just to survive a little longer, the Silver Mane Tribe saw a different horizon.

As famine inched from its nascent stage toward a more dire middle phase, many tribes found themselves teetering on the brink of collapse, unable to sustain themselves. This looming chaos, Logan knew, signaled a pivotal moment for the wastelands. Uncertainty reigned, and no one could predict how many tribes would weather this storm.

Yet for the Silver Mane Tribe, chaos was a ladder. Their robust workforce turned what was a crisis for many into a strategic advantage. The tribe's winery, bustling and efficient, was on track to outpace Canyon City's own, with production estimates soaring from 50,000 to 60,000 kilograms of wine monthly. And with the mastery of their processes, those numbers were only expected to climb.

Sugar and perfume production told a similar tale of burgeoning success. While Canyon City boasted impressive maltose outputs, the Silver Mane Tribe was ramping up its sugar production to significant levels.

The perfume venture, under the diligent supervision of Elizabeth, had recently secured a hefty 500 kilograms of product in a variety of scents, signaling readiness for expansion, a move Logan and his advisors eagerly endorsed.

Money was flowing, and with it, the palpable sense of a tribe on the rise. Logan, once deeply involved in the winery's daily operations, had since transitioned to a role more befitting his vision, overseeing quality as a final check rather than an active participant.

His days were now heavily booked with the running of the tribe's burgeoning enterprises, leaving little time for the simpler pleasures, like visiting Jane's steamed buns shop. The earnest woman was already planning her third outlet, her enthusiasm undampened by the challenging times. Logan, busy as he was, had chosen not to interfere, letting her entrepreneurial spirit run free.

After another long day, Logan washed the remnants of the winery from his hands, his thoughts already drifting to Jane's shop as he adjusted his attire and stepped out to the bustling energy of the tribe's center.

"Hello, Lord Chief!" A voice broke through his reverie.

Turning, Logan was greeted by the sight of Abate, a werewolf whose face was alight with excitement. The young scout rushed over, delivering a salute that was as enthusiastic as his grin.

"What brings you such joy, Abate?" Logan inquired, a smile playing on his lips as he recognized the familiar exuberance of his subordinate.

"Chief, we posted a recruitment notice, and there are already candidates eager to discuss opportunities with you!" Abate reported, barely containing his excitement.

"So soon?" Logan expressed his surprise, a spark of interest igniting in his eyes. The tribe's prosperity seemed unstoppable, and every new development brought them closer to their ambitious goals.

The bustling city hall of Canyon City had become the unlikely stage for Logan' strategic endeavors just two days prior. Here, amidst the clamor and commerce, he had posted a series of recruitment notices that were anything but ordinary.

The first notice was a bold call to arms for the Silver Mane Tribe, inviting combat professionals from levels 1 to 6 to join, with no restrictions on race or current profession.

The second elevated the stakes, targeting seasoned fighters from levels 4 to 6, with compensation scaling impressively from one gold coin per month for level 4s, to two for level 5s, and a generous ten gold coins for those rare level 6 warriors.

The third notice catered to a different skill set, seeking life professionals, three gold coins monthly for beginners, ten for intermediates, thirty for seniors, and a special interview process for the masters of their crafts.

To ensure these notices caught every potential eye, Logan had agreed to a steep monthly fee of thirty gold coins, a sum that ensured prominence and visibility in the bustling city hall.

Abate, tasked with managing the reception of these ambitious calls to recruitment, now beamed with excitement as he relayed the fruits of their efforts to Logan. "Yes, Chief, a group of mercenaries led by a level 6 warrior has responded. They saw the notice and wish to meet with you!"

A level 6 warrior? The notion briefly surprised Logan. Such individuals were among the elite, not just in skill but in their rarity within Canyon City. Level 6 warriors were pillars of military might, often commanding their own destinies through sheer power and prowess.

Logan understood the underlying currents well. The life of a mercenary, even one so skilled, was fraught with uncertainty, a steady income of ten gold coins per month was a beacon many couldn't ignore.

"Let them come. I wish to meet this warrior," Logan decided after a moment's contemplation. His strategy wasn't merely about hiring muscle; it was part of a larger vision, and loyalty was a secondary concern to capability and the realization of his ambitious plans.

"Yes, Chief!" Abate responded with a salute before hastening away to arrange the meeting.

About thirty minutes later, the Kasha Hotel's grand hall, a frequent meeting spot for the tribe's important discussions, filled with the heavy tread of newcomers. Abate returned, this time with seven imposing figures in tow, six burly Beastmen and one unusually small ratman.

The leader, a formidable black bear beastman named Ralph, carried the bearing of a level 6 warrior. Flanking him were five level 5 orc warriors, each exuding a rugged tenacity, while the ratman, an anomaly in this brute assembly, was revealed to be a level 5 summoner, a specialist among fighters.

Logan assessed the group, his eyes calculating and keen. Here before him were not just mercenaries but potential key pieces in the intricate game of power and survival that the Silver Mane Tribe was playing within the vast, unforgiving wasteland.

The sight before Logan was nothing short of intriguing, a hulking bearman nearly three meters in height standing alongside a diminutive ratman, barely scraping 1.3 meters. The stark contrast in their statures made their partnership all the more fascinating, yet the air of competence they exuded was undeniable.

"You are actually brothers?" Logan couldn't hide his astonishment upon hearing Ralph, the bearman, introduce himself and his unlikely sibling.

"Yes!" Ralph confirmed with a nod, his large eyes studying Logan carefully, searching for a reaction but finding none.

Logan cut straight to the chase, "Are you willing to work for my tribe for the reward I offer?"

"Very willing!" Ralph's response was immediate and firm.

"Excellent," Logan continued, introducing himself with a sense of pride, "My name is Logan, and I am the chief of the Silver Mane Tribe in the Southern Wasteland!"

Ralph and his companions exchanged stunned glances, their expressions shifting from curiosity to surprise. They had assumed Logan was merely a recruiter, not the chief himself. Logan, sensing their disbelief, let a faint smile play across his lips before a pale white fighting spirit sparked from his fingertips.

Ralph's demeanor shifted instantly. The display of power was subtle yet profound, especially to someone of Ralph's experience. As a level 6 warrior, he could immediately sense that Logan's strength surpassed his own. This realization reinforced Ralph's respect for Logan, not just as a chief, but as a formidable warrior in his own right.

"Ralph greets the Chief. We are willing to serve the Chief," Ralph said, rising to salute formally.

The other six orcs looked perplexed until Ralph leaned in to whisper an explanation. Moments later, they too stood and offered their salutes, their earlier confusion replaced by a mix of respect and awe.

"Hahaha, no need to be so formal. Our Silver Mane Tribe welcomes everyone to join us!" Logan laughed, his voice carrying a welcoming warmth.

"Silver Mane Tribe," Ralph repeated under his breath, committing the name to memory.

As they continued to talk, Ralph shared more about his group's background. They had once operated a small but proud mercenary group. However, harsh times had fallen upon them. Struggling to make ends meet, their group slowly disbanded as members drifted away in search of better prospects.

"We were actually here looking to join another mercenary group or pick up any mission that could sustain us," Ralph explained. "But when we saw your recruitment notice and the generous rewards offered, we knew we had to come."

Logan listened, nodding thoughtfully. It was clear that Ralph and his team were not just skilled warriors but also survivors, adaptable and resilient, exactly the kind of people the Silver Mane Tribe needed as they navigated the treacherous currents of the wasteland.