Reborn As A Beastman With A System

Logan took a deliberate bite of the sweet potato, and instantly, a sharp, satisfying crunch echoed through the air. His eyes lit up, a mix of surprise and delight dancing in them.

"Exquisite!" Logan couldn't help but exclaim, his voice rich with genuine appreciation. "These sweet potatoes are quite delicious, crispy on the outside, sweet and tender on the inside. Truly, a culinary marvel."

This wasn't an overstatement by any means. The sweet potatoes Logan had prepared were a revelation compared to the mundane, almost monotonous diet he had grown accustomed to. Their sweetness was a stark, welcome contrast to the bland, often tough brown bread that had been his staple in the Silver Mane Tribe.

Back in the tribe, Logan's daily fare consisted almost exclusively of black bread, its taste so dreary and repetitive that it almost induced nausea. On rare occasions, there was meat, but it was usually old bacon or tough, gamey cuts from various beasts, none of which could hold a candle to the succulent flavors of well-prepared pork or beef.

Witnessing Logan's unabashed enjoyment, Begon and Cobos were quick to follow suit, eagerly peeling the skin off their sweet potatoes and taking their first bites.

"Hmm?" Begon's expression turned to one of pleasant surprise. The sweet potato was unlike anything he had ever tasted before: sweet yet crisp, a delightful combination of textures and flavors that was entirely new to him.

Cobos, too, was swiftly won over, hardly taking the time to chew before reaching for another piece.

"Chief, are you certain this crop will yield as much as you've predicted?" Begon asked, his tone carrying a mixture of skepticism and hope. Despite his reservations about Logan's leadership, the promise of sweet potatoes and their potential yield stirred a sense of anticipation within him. A successful harvest could mean a transformative change for their tribe.

Logan met his uncle's gaze with a steady one of his own. "Uncle, as chief of the Silver Mane, would I gamble with our people's future? My plan is to initiate large-scale cultivation of both potatoes and sweet potatoes."

The underlying purpose of this meeting was clear: Logan intended to persuade his uncle about the benefits of adopting these crops widely. Given their short growth cycle and high yield, these vegetables could significantly alleviate the tribe's food scarcity within a matter of months.

"Adopting these crops could indeed be a turning point for us," Begon conceded, though concern creased his brow. "But our current challenge lies in finding enough space to cultivate them. Our rye fields won't be ready for harvest for another two months, leaving us with little room for new plantings."

The vast expanses of the tribe's lands were sown with rye, stretching across thousands of acres of fertile earth. Yet, this year, they were besieged by a relentless drought, threatening to decimate the rye harvest, possibly leaving the fields barren.

Cobos approached Sir Begon with a hesitant yet determined voice. "Sir Begon, considering the dire circumstances, perhaps we should reconsider our approach. Sweet potatoes and potatoes promise a much higher yield. It seems imprudent to invest our efforts in rye fields that might not bear any fruit."

Initially reluctant to voice his opinion, Cobos couldn't silence his conviction any longer. The potential of sweet potatoes and potatoes could very well dictate the tribe's fate.

Begon's gaze landed on Cobos, his brows knitting together in contemplation. "You propose we abandon our rye fields entirely for sweet potatoes and potatoes?" he mused aloud. The very thought of forsaking thousands of acres dedicated to rye, despite the uncertain yield, felt like an immense gamble.

Cobos's suggestion, though bold, was not without merit, reflected in Begon's reluctance to dismiss it outright. The allure of a bountiful harvest from these alternative crops was compelling, yet the decision bore the weight of the tribe's survival.

"No, that won't be necessary," Logan interjected, capturing the attention of both Begon and Cobos with his decisive tone.

They turned to him, perplexed by his confidence.

"If not abandon, then what?" they wondered, their curiosity piqued.

Logan posed a rhetorical question, a slight smile playing on his lips. "What do we have in abundance in the wasteland?"

The question left Lott and Cobos momentarily stumped, their minds racing for an answer.

"The answer is the wasteland itself," Logan revealed, his voice imbued with resolve. "We don't need to sacrifice our rye fields. Instead, let's harness the vast expanses of unused land. We can mobilize our people to clear new fields for planting."

His plan was about acknowledging the rye's precarious yield without resigning to defeat. "While the drought challenges our rye production, even a minimal yield is better than none. Our focus should be on expanding to new lands, supplementing our rye with more drought-resistant crops," Logan elaborated.

Moreover, Logan hinted at a broader perspective, one where magic intersected with agriculture. "The drought, though severe, is but a hurdle. In a world were filled with magic, solutions like water magic could mitigate these adversities, even if on a smaller scale."

Despite Logan's optimistic solution involving water magic to alleviate the drought, he couldn't ignore the glaring reality: magicians were exceptionally rare, beastmen magicians even more so. The Silver Mane Tribe, like many others, hadn't the fortune of having a magician among them, a reality that dampened the tribe's magical prospects significantly.

"Expanding into the wasteland?" Begon echoed, momentarily taken aback by the proposition. Yet, as he mulled it over, a spark of realization ignited in his eyes. The vast, untamed wilderness that bordered their lands indeed held untapped potential, ripe for cultivation.

The idea of salvaging what they could from the rye crop, no matter how meager, seemed suddenly wise in the face of unpredictable yields. "But what of the seeds for these new crops?" Begon inquired, voicing a critical concern. The availability of seeds for potatoes and sweet potatoes, crops unfamiliar to their traditional agriculture, could very well dictate the feasibility of Logan's ambitious plan.

"If seeds are scarce, our discussions amount to naught," Begon added, his tone laced with caution.

Logan, however, met his uncle's concern with a reassuring smile. "Fear not, ny dear uncle. I've already prepared for this. We have ample seeds for both potatoes and sweet potatoes, enough to cover a thousand acres and even more," he assured, confidence brimming in his voice.

Turning to Cobos, Logan inquired about the state of the sweet potato nursery, a crucial component of their agricultural strategy. Sweet potatoes, being a transplantable crop, required careful nurturing to produce viable seedlings for planting.

Cobos responded with due respect, "Master Chief, all is in order at the nursery. We've pruned the plants as instructed, and a fresh batch of seedlings is ready for the fields whenever we are."

Seeing the perplexity still shadowing Begon's features, Logan suggested a visit to the nursery. "Uncle, perhaps seeing the nursery firsthand will clarify your doubts. Let's go see how these sweet potatoes are cultivated," Logan proposed, keen on demystifying the process for Begon and further solidifying his support for the project.

Upon reaching the sweet potato nursery, the trio observed the breadth of Logan's efforts. With a investment of ten reputation points, he acquired a substantial hundred kilograms of sweet potatoes, showcasing the nursery's impressive scale.

"Excellent work!" Logan exclaimed, visibly pleased with the progress. Sweet potatoes, known for their resilience, rarely succumbed to rot when buried, often sprouting multiple generations of seedlings if properly tended.

"Uncle, sweet potato cultivation is fascinatingly simple yet effective. Observe this," Logan explained, demonstrating with ease born from his childhood experiences in southern farmlands. He selected a healthy seedling, nestled it into the soft earth, and confidently covered it, illustrating the uncomplicated nature of their growth.

Begon watched, intrigued by the unconventional method. The notion that sweet potatoes grew from seedlings rather than seeds was a revelation to him, challenging his agricultural preconceptions.

Logan then turned his attention to Cobos, entrusting him with a significant responsibility. "Tomorrow, Cobos, come to my place. I'll hand over another five hundred kilograms of sweet potatoes. Your new role will be crucial — you'll become our leading expert in sweet potato cultivation. It's vital we get this right," he said, his tone a mix of camaraderie and expectation.

Cobos accepted the challenge with a mix of pride and humility, understanding the importance of his assignment. Logan's confidence in him sparked a determination to excel and contribute significantly to the tribe's agricultural future.

Logan then inquired about the timeline for expanding their cultivation efforts. "Uncle, when do we start reclaiming new land for planting?"

Begon, recognizing the urgency, replied without hesitation. "Immediately. This is a matter of survival. I'll coordinate with Reynolds to mobilize our people and begin land reclamation within days."

"Your efforts are truly appreciated, Uncle," Logan said, offering a respectful nod. There was an understanding in his voice. Despite the apparent skepticism his uncle harbored towards him, Logan knew that when it came to the welfare of the tribe, such personal doubts would be set aside. The survival and prosperity of their people stood first, overshadowing individual convictions or reservations.

"Indeed, our tribe faces a pivotal moment," he continued, his tone carrying a weight of seriousness. "We're all players in a grand strategy, with the tribe as our board. Should the board fracture, the game ends for us all." Logan's words, steeped in the urgency of their predicament.

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