Reborn As A Beastman With A System

From the day they joined the Silver Mane Tribe, they felt the weight of restrictions pressing down on them like an iron shackle. No preaching, no spreading of their beliefs; it was a silent agreement everyone followed. The rules were clear, and even the most passionate priests dared not challenge the authority of the tribe's young chief, Logan. The disappointment simmered within them, but they held their tongues. For now, they were in no position to push back.

Then, as if the tides had shifted, permission came down: they could preach at last. The news spread quickly among the priests, lighting a fire of excitement. Yet, a cloud of confusion lingered. Why had Logan invented such elaborate tales about their ancestors and the warriors of the past? To some, it felt like rewriting history. They couldn't understand why he would craft stories that might only serve to embellish. Yet, a few of the wiser ones shrugged it off with quiet acceptance. "If it allows us to spread our teachings, let him spin his tales," they thought. "What does it matter, so long as our voices can finally reach the tribe?"

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One fateful day, Logan called the tribe together, his voice carrying through the valley. "The Temple of Warriors is complete!" he declared. "From this day forward, any tribesman may come to pay tribute to those who gave their lives for the Silver Mane." The words struck deep, and almost immediately, a wave of emotion rolled through the crowd. Those who had lost loved ones in battles gathered in droves, clutching keepsakes and wearing expressions of quiet reverence. The Temple of Warriors became a sanctuary for the grieving, a sacred space to honor the fallen and recall their bravery.

It wasn't long before Barnett, a seasoned warrior himself, received word of the temple's opening. He arrived with anticipation, his sons Begon and Reynolds by his side. Barnett had spent years fighting for the tribe, and with each passing year, he had begun to feel the toll of time. His hope for advancing to the seventh level of warrior strength had dimmed, a dream he had nearly surrendered to age. But on this day, something remarkable stirred within him.

Standing in the temple, surrounded by the memories of fallen comrades, Barnett felt a surge of energy as if a great spirit was guiding him. He closed his eyes, and before he knew it, he broke through the plateau that had held him for decades. The power flooded through him, rejuvenating his body and spirit, until he realized he was no longer bound to the limitations of the sixth level. Astonished, he turned to his sons, who looked at him with disbelief and pride.

"Father," Begon stammered, his eyes wide with awe. "Did you… make a breakthrough?"

Barnett nodded, barely containing his own excitement. "Yes. After twenty years of waiting… I didn't think it was possible." He took a deep breath, feeling the newfound strength coursing through him. "But here I am, at the seventh level. I feel as if I have a second chance, a new spring in my life."

His sons shared a look of astonishment. But before Barnett could continue, he paused, sensing something different about them. Their auras… they had changed.

"Wait a moment," he said, narrowing his eyes at Begon and Reynolds. "You're not at the fifth level anymore. Have you…?"

Both sons broke into grins, nodding in unison. "Yes, father," Begon said, his voice brimming with pride. "We broke through to the sixth level… right here in the Temple of Warriors."
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Their father's jaw dropped as he listened, astonished by their sudden progress. And they weren't the only ones. "Kro, Lots, and even two of the younger warriors… they, too, made breakthroughs here," Begon explained, his voice carrying the awe of someone who had witnessed something miraculous.

Barnett was speechless. The temple seemed to hold a power beyond any of them, a blessing to those who dared to seek it. As he looked at his sons and considered the wave of progress sweeping through the tribe, he couldn't help but wonder. Was this the work of the spirits of the warriors? Was it some gift from their ancestors, responding to the reverence they were finally receiving?

Whatever the reason, Barnett knew one thing for certain: the Silver Mane Tribe was changing, and he would stand at its forefront, embracing the dawn of this new era alongside his family and his tribe.

They had all advanced in strength simultaneously, something so unusual it left the family in awe.

"Power from the ancestors? Or fallen warriors?" Barnett muttered, his brows furrowed as he repeated Logan's theory, glancing with a mix of curiosity and disbelief toward his grandson. It was unlike anything he had ever heard, and the idea seemed almost too fantastical to take at face value. After all, the old man was not easily swayed by the unexplained.

Just then, Logan emerged from the kitchen, a faint smile on his face as he saw his uncles gathered in the yard. "Uncle Begon, Lots, you're both here?" he greeted them warmly.

"Indeed, we are," Begon and Reynolds replied with a nod, returning his gaze with looks of curiosity and expectation.

"Please, sit down," Barnett gestured toward them with a calm, almost calculated smile, his eyes never leaving Logan. The invitation was both casual and commanding, a sign of the respect the family held for him. Begon, Reynolds, Logan, and Barnett settled themselves around the table, creating a perfect circle, a gathering of three generations bound by blood and secrets.

The atmosphere became dense, as if something unspoken hovered in the air. The three elder men fixed their gazes on Logan, a silent demand for answers. Barnett's piercing eyes scrutinized every inch of his grandson's face, searching for clues that only Logan could reveal. Begon and Reynolds, sensing their father's silent interrogation, waited as well, unwilling to break the stillness that had settled over them. They knew this wasn't the time for idle chatter.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Barnett leaned forward, his voice a low murmur edged with both curiosity and caution. "Logan," he asked slowly, "can you explain to your grandfather… just what is your true strength?"

Begon and Reynolds glanced at each other, their faces mirroring their confusion. To their knowledge, Logan was a seventh-level warrior, an impressive feat for his age. Yet their father's question hinted at something deeper, something unexpected.

"Wait…" Begon began, his eyes widening as he looked between his nephew and father. "Isn't Logan a seventh-level warrior?"

Barnett sighed, a wry smile crossing his lips. "You've both been misled by this young man," he said, shaking his head. "He's not seventh level."

The revelation landed like a stone dropped in still water. Begon and Reynolds stared at Logan, shock evident in their expressions. They had taken pride in his achievements, but now, to realize that he had hidden something so significant…

"Not seventh level?" Begon stammered, barely able to believe it. Only a month ago, he had been assured by a respected master that Logan had indeed reached the seventh level. Could he have advanced again so soon? Eighth level, perhaps? The thought seemed almost impossible.

Logan met their stares with calm confidence, a faint but knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had anticipated this moment. He knew they would eventually question his rapid progress; it was only natural for those closest to him to seek the truth.

Finally, he broke the silence, his tone calm yet laced with a subtle challenge. "Grandfather, Uncle Begon, Uncle Reynolds," he began, "have you considered why all three of you experienced breakthroughs today, at the very same time?" His voice carried a slight note of amusement, as if he enjoyed the riddle he was posing.

The three men froze, their expressions shifting from confusion to astonishment. They hadn't stopped to consider the extraordinary timing of their simultaneous advancements.

Barnett's gaze grew more intense, locking onto his grandson. "Are you saying," he asked slowly, "that this… phenomenon is the ancestral power you spoke of? The power of fallen warriors?"

Logan nodded subtly, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly assurance. "There's more to our lineage than any of us imagined. Ancestors or fallen warriors, their strength flows through us. Today was only the beginning."

A profound silence fell over them again, yet this time it was filled with wonder, as if they were on the cusp of understanding something far greater than themselves. Barnett, Begon, and Reynolds exchanged glances, each of them realizing that their family's legacy might be more powerful, and more mysterious, than they had ever dared to believe.

In the past, when Begon had first told Barnett that his grandson, Logan, had been accepted as a disciple by the legendary Lord and had reached the seventh level of warrior strength, Barnett had been overjoyed. The excitement had stayed with him for days, the pride swelling in his chest. After all, Logan wasn't just any grandson, he was the future of the Silver Mane Tribe. The stronger he grew, the brighter the tribe's future would be.

But now, as he looked at Logan again, something gnawed at Barnett. His grandson had already broken through to the seventh level, yet Barnett sensed that Logan's true strength far exceeded that. The growth was too rapid; 'unnaturally' rapid.

It was only a short while ago that his eldest grandson had taken on the mantle of chief, but in that brief time, he had transformed into something more than just a leader. Logan didn't just manage the tribe; he seemed to be steering it toward an unstoppable future. His actions, his strategies, they weren't just smart; they were visionary.

Barnett tried to recall his own earlier thoughts. The tribe had always developed at a steady pace, but lately, its progress seemed almost... unnervingly fast. Sometimes he even wondered if the Silver Mane Tribe he once knew was the same tribe under his grandson's leadership. 'Had Logan really grown so much in so little time?'

Is this still the Silver Mane Tribe? And more pointedly, 'is this still my grandson?'

As if sensing his grandfather's inner turmoil, Logan chuckled softly. "Grandpa, you're probably thinking that I'm just rambling nonsense, aren't you?"

Barnett's sharp gaze never wavered. Logan was his blood, but his power was growing in ways Barnett couldn't fully understand. Could this be true?

"Nonsense?" Logan's smile widened as he leaned forward. "Well… maybe it sounds like nonsense, but it's not, really. In truth, I've tapped into something far older than we've ever imagined." He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before continuing. "I've awakened a power deep within our bloodline; a power connected to the ancient ancestors."

Barnett, Begon, and Reynolds exchanged confused glances. "Power from ancestors?" Barnett muttered under his breath. It was a phrase that had never crossed his mind. 'What could he possibly mean by that?'

Logan seemed to sense their disbelief, his tone shifting to one of patient explanation. "Think about it this way: thousands, maybe tens of thousands of years ago, there were mighty werewolf ancestors, some of them even more powerful than we can imagine. Our bloodline has forged a connection with them, and through that, we've gained... well, 'benefits'."

"Benefits?" Begon repeated, his eyes narrowing in thought. "What do you mean by that?"

Logan nodded, his expression growing serious. "It's a gift passed down from those ancient ancestors, a gift that transcends generations. You can think of it as something akin to a bond between our souls. Some might call it 'anti-ancestorism,' though it's not quite that. It's more like an ancient pact. When I'm training or trying to advance, it's as if I'm being aided by a higher power, by the very essence of the ancestors themselves."

He paused for a moment, glancing at his father and uncles. "I think, after today's breakthroughs, you've all felt it too, haven't you? That strange surge of energy, almost like divine assistance?"

Barnett, Begon, and Reynolds all exchanged looks of stunned realization. Each of them had indeed felt something, something almost mystical, that had aided their progress. But they had never been able to explain it. 'Could it be what Logan was saying?' The idea of ancestral power was a concept so foreign to them, they couldn't quite wrap their heads around it.

"Grandpa," Logan said, his voice softening, "this gift from our ancestors has already begun to manifest within me. I've reached the ninth level." He let the words hang in the air, watching as Barnett's face shifted from confusion to shock.

"Ninth level?" Begon gasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Ninth level?" Reynolds echoed, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Barnett sat back, his gaze fixed on Logan, the realization slowly settling in. 'Ninth level?' It was almost unimaginable.

"Are you saying," Barnett asked, his voice barely audible, "that you've already reached the ninth level... and you're not stopping there?"

Logan nodded, his face breaking into a confident grin. "I'm not stopping. Not yet. I think it won't be long before I break through to the tenth level. The power's still growing within me."

A heavy silence fell over the group. Barnett, Begon, and Reynolds sat there, stunned, as the enormity of what Logan had said sank in. The young man they had once seen as just a promising leader was now a figure of almost mythical power. And the Silver Mane Tribe; 'their' tribe, was on the brink of something much bigger than any of them had ever imagined.

"Grandpa," Logan added with a wry smile, "it's not just about me. This power is flowing through all of us now. I can't say where it will take us, but I know one thing for sure: the future of the Silver Mane Tribe has just entered a new era."

Barnett's chest swelled with pride, but there was something else in his heart too; a spark of fear. What kind of power had his grandson truly awakened? And how far could it take them?

But for the first time, Barnett understood one thing completely: Logan was no longer just his grandson. He was something more, something beyond what Barnett had ever imagined. The Silver Mane Tribe's future was now in the hands of a force that was both ancient and terrifyingly new.