Reborn As A Beastman With A System

*Chief Ruler System?" The words echoed through Logan's mind, a blend of disbelief and awe stitching his thoughts together. With a swift mental command, he accessed the complex interface hidden within his consciousness.

Logan, since the day he found himself hurled through the time into this new existence, knew of the mystical system that lay embedded within his very being. It was an magical construct that allowed him to perceive not just his own attributes but also gauge the potential and strength of those around him.

His journey had been nothing short of a fantastical saga, where even the beastmen under his command could evolve, echoing the mechanics of a game where each vanquished foe brought them closer to their next evolutionary leap.

His werewolf guards, fierce and loyal, gained experience through battle, each victory a step towards greater power. Logan took pride in their growth, for their advancement contributed to his own, a symbiotic relationship where the rise of one heralded the ascent of the other.

Beyond the battlefield, the system offered a marketplace, a digital bazaar that catered to the most diverse of needs - from the seeds of crops that could flourish in the harshest of terrains to the essentials for rearing livestock and nurturing cubs.

This marketplace was a trove of technological marvels; desert rice cultivation techniques, advancements in energy, and even the blueprints for televisions and automobiles were within reach, assuming one had the requisite gold coins or reputation to trade.

Yet, Logan was acutely aware of the exorbitant prices attached to items of technological significance, a reminder of the limits of his current capabilities.

The activation of the Chief's Rule System was an unexpected twist in his journey. As Logan delved deeper into the system's interface, a detailed panel materialized in his mind's eye, laying bare the intricacies of his domain and his people:

- Name: Logan

- Age: 10 years

- Occupation: Fourth-level warrior

- Position: Chief of the Silvermane Tribe

- Population: 2188 werewolves, with a detailed breakdown of their ranks and roles.

This chapter upload first at NovelUsb.Com

- Military Forces: Comprising 665 warriors and 76 Warg Cavalry.

- Territory: Spanning 1620 square kilometers.

- Mall and Inheritance Systems: Both unveiled and accessible.

The detailed system presented a comprehensive overview of the Silvermane Tribe's current standing, far surpassing the granularity of the previous system. Logan pondered over the information, familiarizing himself with the nuances of this upgraded interface. It revealed not only the tribe's strengths but also areas ripe for improvement.

Three paths for leveling presented themselves, with the first being through the accumulation of experience. As his warriors ascended in rank, so too would he gain experience, inching closer to the threshold needed for his own evolution to a fifth-level warrior.

The concept of reputation as a means to ascend in rank was as clear to Logan as the crystal, in the Silvermane Tribe. In the eyes of his people, their support and veneration were not just sentiments but a tangible force. As long as his people offered their worship, trust, and support, Logan would gather reputation.

Venturing into the realm of self-improvement presented the third path to advancement. This route demanded perseverance and solitary dedication, a stark contrast to the communal gathering of reputation. It was the essence of self-reliance, challenging Logan to refine his skills without shortcuts. However, the daunting nature of this journey often seemed insurmountable.

Reflecting on his temporal odyssey, he noted that despite his diligent practice, progress remained elusive. The rigorous demands of self-improvement made the temptation to find easier paths alluring, for the fear of stagnation at his current level was a shadow that loomed large over his ambitions.

Curiosity then drew Logan toward the concept of professional and sub-professional inheritances. With a mere thought, a majestic temple materialized in his mind's eye, its inhabitants figures of potential and promise, yet their faces shrouded in mystery.

"Welcome, Logan, to the temple of professional inheritance," a voice echoed, its tone imbued with gravity and grandeur. "Here lies the path to legacy and learning. But first, you must manifest this temple in the realm of the tangible, for only then can its true power be harnessed by your kin."

The revelation that these temples needed to be constructed in the physical world to unlock their full potential was a novel concept for Logan. It promised a convergence of the mystical and the material, where the members of the Silvermane tribe could embrace destinies beyond their wildest dreams.

The distinction between professional and sub-professional temples became apparent as Logan delved deeper. The former was a sanctuary of martial and mystical pursuits, while the latter celebrated the vital, everyday crafts that sustained and enriched life—herbalists, beast tamers, and smiths found their honor here.

This revelation was a beacon of hope and strategy for Logan. With such capabilities at his command, the ascendancy of the Silvermane tribe seemed inevitable, their growth exponential.

However, the world beyond the system beckoned. The familiar call of "Logan, Logan..." pierced his concentration, drawing him back to the tangible world.

"Grandpa!" Logan responded, his voice tinged with affection and respect.

"What are you in a daze so intently? Join me here," beckoned Barnett, his figure a bastion of strength and wisdom. As Logan stepped forward, the lessons of the system intertwined with the reality of his tribe, the future bright with untold possibilities.

With a swift understanding of the gravity of the moment, Logan approached his grandfather with a mixture of reverence and a slight unease. "Grandfather!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing respect and a hint of unfamiliarity. Barnett had been a figure of legend to Logan, more a myth than a man, retreating into seclusion after his tenure as chief ended over a decade prior.

Their interactions were scarce, limited to the grand ceremonies and sacrifices that punctuated the life of the tribe, where Barnett was more a specter of the past than a tangible presence.

"Come, sit!" Barnett commanded, gesturing towards the chief's seat with a profound sense of ceremony.

"But Grandfather, I—" Logan began, his confusion apparent. He was acutely aware of his new title as chief, yet the rapid transition felt overwhelming, almost premature.

"Fear not, for you are the chief now. This chair, and the fate of the Silver Mane Tribe, are yours to command," Barnett declared, his voice a deep well of conviction. He saw the hesitation in Logan, a natural reaction for someone suddenly thrust into such a monumental role.

Acknowledging his grandfather's assurance, Logan glanced towards his two uncles and the commanders, gauging their reactions. Their indifference was a clear sign; hesitation would serve no purpose here. With a mixture of determination and the weight of his new responsibility, Logan took his place upon the chair, his movements betraying none of his inner turmoil.

Barnett observed this transition, a flicker of surprise and pride in his eyes. For a moment, he thought he glimpsed the makings of a king in Logan, a leader who might just be extraordinary.

"The new chief of Silver Mane, Logan!" Barnett proclaimed, his voice ringing out as if to cement the reality of Logan's ascension.

Yet, Barnett was not blind to the currents of dissent that ran through the tribe. His gaze hardened as he looked towards his second and fifth sons, well aware that their ambitions might stir unrest.

Simultaneously, as if on cue, Logan's uncles and the commanders approached, their actions synchronized, a show of loyalty and respect that governed their society. "We acknowledge the chief!" they declared, their kneeling forms a symbol of submission.

"Uncles, commanders, please rise. There's no need for such formalities," Logan responded, his voice carrying a mix of authority and graciousness. He was under no illusion about the loyalties of his uncles, aware that their support might be conditional at best.

Yet, with Barnett's imposing presence as a bulwark, Logan felt a certain security, an assurance that no overt challenge to his authority would be mounted.

As for the commanders, Logan recognized their position as outsiders to the chief's lineage, yet he saw their allegiance as crucial to the cohesion of the tribe. In his heart, he knew that time would be the ultimate arbiter of loyalty and respect. With patience and wisdom, Logan was prepared to win over all, friend and skeptic alike, forging a united Silver Mane under his leadership.