Reborn As A Beastman With A System

Chapter 177: Storm Rising!

As soon as Artom began to speak, all eyes turned to him. Though he was part of the younger generation, his status as Arar's eldest and most cherished son commanded respect from everyone present, including the leaders of the Adik tribe and the eight chiefs.

Artom met their gazes with a confident smile, his demeanor calm. "We aren't the only ones considering a united front against the Silver Mane Tribe," he announced, his voice clear and steady.

A wave of confusion rippled through the eight chiefs, their brows furrowing in curiosity. "What do you mean, Artom?" one chief asked, leaning forward, eager for clarification.

"Have you forgotten, my esteemed chiefs, that many tribes have been driven away by the Silver Mane Tribe?" Artom reminded them, his tone light but pointed. He emphasized the words "driven away," making the message clear.

The chiefs exchanged uneasy glances, a hint of realization dawning. However, the choice of words stirred irritation among them. They shot cold looks in Artom's direction, but he merely smiled back, unfazed.

Internally, Artom felt a flicker of disdain. How could these leaders be so fearful? They were paralyzed by their own cowardice, dreaming of borrowing food from their oppressors instead of standing up to them. It was infuriating. In times like these, food was a treasure.

Even if the Adik tribe had ample supplies, he wouldn't consider sharing with these timid chieftains, especially since their own reserves were dwindling.

"If the Silver Mane Tribe were not so powerful and ambitious," Artom thought, "my father's strategic genius would have long since absorbed these weaker tribes into the Adik tribe."

He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the room once more. "We are prepared to form an alliance with the Qatar tribe and other neighboring tribes. Together, we will send a united force against the Silver Mane Tribe."

The room buzzed with intrigue. "If we unite with the Qatar tribe and other smaller clans, our strength will far exceed that of the Silver Mane Tribe," Artom continued, his confidence growing. "Right now, they haven't fully consolidated their power. This is our chance."

The chiefs leaned in, their interest piqued. "And what about the Beastmen who are hesitant to align with the Silver Mane Tribe?" one of the elders asked. "Can we sway them to our side?"

"Exactly!" Artom replied, his enthusiasm contagious. "With our coalition, we can offer them a better alternative. Those who are wary of the Silver Mane Tribe's growing influence may see the merit in joining us instead. With their support, taking down the Silver Mane Tribe will be much easier."

Artom's gaze swept over the chiefs, his voice unwavering. "And let's not forget my father's prowess as a leader. You all know he is a level six warrior, as are many of our commanders and officials. The Silver Mane Tribe, once a small band of only a couple thousand, may have grown, but their leadership hasn't developed overnight."

The atmosphere shifted as the chiefs absorbed his words. They nodded slowly, the seeds of determination being planted. Perhaps there was a path forward, one that involved unity and strength rather than fear.

Artom smiled, sensing the shift. "Together, we can challenge the Silver Mane Tribe and reclaim our dignity. Let us act before it's too late."

The chiefs, their resolve hardening, exchanged glances of newfound purpose. They were beginning to see that perhaps Artom's vision was the way forward after all.

If the Adik tribe could truly rally the Qatar tribe and other smaller tribes into a formidable coalition, the likelihood of crushing the Silver Mane Tribe would increase dramatically. The idea seemed more and more plausible with every word spoken.

Artom's reasoning struck a chord. How many truly strong warriors could the Silver Mane Tribe have at the top, considering they had only risen to power in a few short months? Their leadership, no matter how vast their forces, couldn't match the battle-hardened veterans of older tribes. And then there was Arar, a legendary eighth-level warrior, a force to be reckoned with in his own right.

The chiefs began to nod, the pieces falling into place. This alliance might actually be possible.

The eldest Beastman chief, weathered and wise, pondered for a moment before turning his gaze to Artom, then to Arar. "But how will we convince the Qatar tribe and the others to join us?"

Arar responded without hesitation, his voice filled with the confidence of someone who had already considered every possibility. "You need not worry about that. The Qatar tribe and the rest of the smaller clans know very well the threat the Silver Mane Tribe poses. They've witnessed its rapid expansion just as we have. And let's not forget, food is in short supply everywhere.

If even the Adik tribe is struggling with resources, do you think the Qatar tribe isn't also facing hunger?"

His words hit home. The chiefs exchanged looks of realization. It was true; the famine had spared no one, and food was becoming as valuable as gold. Even the most reluctant tribes would be tempted to join an alliance if it meant access to food.

Artom, sensing the shift in the room, seized the moment. "So, chiefs, where do you stand on this coalition?" he asked, his eyes scanning the faces of those still deep in thought.

One by one, the chiefs began to speak.

"My Black Knight tribe is ready. We will join the coalition!" one chieftain declared with conviction.

"The Taka tribe will also stand with you!" another echoed.

The momentum grew. One after another, the chiefs gave their agreement, their voices rising in unison.

"The Silver Mane Tribe is too great a threat to ignore," one chief stated firmly. "We cannot let them continue to swallow our tribes whole."

"That's right!" another growled. "It's time we destroyed them before they destroy us!"

The council hall buzzed with the chiefs' newfound determination. Their anger at the Silver Mane Tribe had turned into a rallying cry for action.

Artom observed their passion with a faint, knowing smile, though inside, he held nothing but contempt for their sudden bravado. *Fools,* he thought. *Once we've dealt with the Silver Mane Tribe, you'll all be easy prey for the Adik tribe.*

The chiefs were blind to his thoughts, however, caught up in their own fury.

Soon, the council hall emptied, leaving only Arar and Artom alone, father and son in the quiet aftermath of a successful strategy session.

"Father," Artom said, breaking the silence, "let me go and speak with the Qatar tribe. I'll convince them to join us."

Arar chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with pride. "You think you're ready for that, do you?"

Artom smiled confidently. "Chief Lero of the Qatar tribe isn't a fool. He knows the danger the Silver Mane Tribe represents. He won't reject an opportunity to form a coalition, especially when food is at stake."

"And once the Qatar tribe joins us," Artom continued, "the smaller tribes will follow. They won't want to miss the chance to be part of something that ensures food and safety."

Arar leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "You've grown into quite the strategist, my son. Very well. Go and secure the alliance. The sooner we unite, the stronger our position will be."

"Understood, Father. I'll set out immediately," Artom replied with a respectful bow.

As Artom left the room, Arar watched him go, pride swelling in his chest. This coalition, once a vague idea, was now becoming a reality. Soon, the Silver Mane Tribe would face their downfall, and the Adik tribe would emerge stronger than ever.

Meanwhile, the Silver Mane Tribe, oblivious to the growing storm, continued to expand and thrive, unaware of the forces that were quietly assembling against them.

Logan, the tribal chief of the Silver Mane Tribe, stood at the bustling dock town, surveying the ongoing construction with a thoughtful expression. He wasn't alone; accompanying him were Astali, the wise and formidable leader of the Snake People, Begon, another trusted chief, and a figure who appeared somewhat out of place: Tyton.

Tyton, back from his time away in Canyon City, was now regarded as somewhat of an "idler," though not by choice. He was on a well-earned break, having worked tirelessly for the tribe. Yet, despite his supposed relaxation, he couldn't resist tagging along with Logan to the dock town when he heard about the changes taking place there.

As they walked through the town, Tyton's eyes darted around, taking in the transformation. He had only been gone for five or six months, but everything felt different; like the whole tribe had shifted into a new era of prosperity and power. He barely slept on his first night back, his mind spinning as he compared the tribe he had left with the one he had returned to.

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The changes were overwhelming.

Tyton felt a strange mixture of pride and unease creeping up on him. The Silver Mane Tribe had grown stronger; much stronger. When he had left, the tribe's fourth-level warriors were a respectable force. Now, though, he had learned there were two hundred fourth-level warriors, and even more intimidating, there were dozens of fifth-level masters walking among them.

The tribe had even hired additional mercenary fifth-level masters, but their own had already reached twenty or thirty in number.

And where did that leave him?

Still at the fourth level, not yet close to breaking into the fifth. His confidence, once solid, now wavered as he realized just how far behind he had fallen. His role in Canyon City as chief steward of the wine shop suddenly felt trivial compared to the sheer strength swelling within the tribe. What would he do if he came back to serve in the military?

With his current level, he'd be an ordinary junior officer at best.

Lost in thought, Tyton barely noticed Logan turning toward him, the chief's deep voice cutting through his reverie. "What's on your mind, Tyton?"

Tyton snapped back to reality, startled. "Ah? Oh, nothing, Chief," he stammered, shaking his head quickly as if to dismiss his thoughts.

Logan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "You've been back a few days now, but it seems you're still adjusting to the changes."

Tyton could only manage a rueful smile in return. He wasn't the only one marveling at the tribe's rapid progress. Astali and Begon, though experienced leaders in their own right, shared knowing smiles. The transformation of the Silver Mane Tribe had been so vast and swift that even they, who had witnessed much over the years, found it hard to believe at times.

Astali, in particular, observed Tyton with mild curiosity. She found it odd that Logan, a chief known for his careful choices, showed such warmth toward Tyton, who was, after all, only a fourth-level warrior. She wondered what had earned him such favor, but kept her questions to herself for now.

Tyton, eager to steer the conversation away from his own insecurities, turned his gaze to the scene around them. Everywhere he looked, orcs were busy constructing new homes and buildings. The scale of the development was staggering, and curiosity got the better of him. "Chief, what's the plan for this dock town?" he asked, looking at Logan. "Are you resettling our people here on a large scale?"

Logan nodded, his expression turning more serious as he took in the scene alongside Tyton. "Indeed. The dock town will be key to our tribe's future. We're expanding not just for trade, but to secure new settlements for our people. The growth of the Silver Mane Tribe means we need new spaces; strongholds, really; to support our numbers and resources."

Tyton's gaze swept over the town again, this time with deeper understanding. The bustling orcs, the construction, the sense of urgency, it was all part of a greater plan. The Silver Mane Tribe wasn't just expanding, it was fortifying itself for something greater, something inevitable.

The tribe was preparing for war.

Tyton swallowed, a sudden weight settling in his chest. He realized now that the changes weren't just about strength or resources. The Silver Mane Tribe was gearing up for something that would test every one of them.

And whether he liked it or not, he would need to find his place in that future.