Reborn As A Beastman With A System

Chapter 208 Treatment of Wounded!

"My Lord Chief," Surshen began, his voice trembling slightly as he bowed deeply, "since the Duskin Tribe has submitted to the Silver Mane Tribe, we are now your people. As members of the Silver Mane Tribe, it is our duty; no, our honor, to stand united against the coalition forces. We dare not take any undue credit for fulfilling this duty!" His words spilled out hurriedly, as if afraid to be interrupted.

Kule and Mamuti exchanged startled glances. They could scarcely believe what they were hearing. Surshen, the ever-defiant and prideful leader of the Duskin Tribe, was groveling with such fervent loyalty. This wasn't the Surshen they knew.

For Mamuti, the shock was personal. He had grown up knowing his fifth uncle to be unyielding, a man who would never bow his head. But something had changed. Ever since Surshen witnessed Logan casually incapacitate Arar, the formidable chief of the Adik Tribe, with a single blow, his defiance seemed to evaporate overnight. That display of raw, unbridled power had rattled him to his core.

Mamuti, too, had been shaken. At first, he rationalized it. His father was only a level six warrior, while Logan stood at level seven, a clear disparity in strength. But even then, a single move to leave a seasoned warrior like Arar critically injured? It was unfathomable. Worse yet, he realized he had underestimated Logan in the past. The last time he came to redeem him, Logan had seemed no stronger than a mere level four. Now, in just a few months, the young chief's power had grown to a degree that seemed almost supernatural.

Kule felt the same. As they watched Logan, both men couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence, a calm yet overwhelming pressure that demanded submission.

Meanwhile, Begon and the others looked on with faint amusement, their eyes flitting between Surshen and his companions. The irony wasn't lost on anyone. The Duskin Tribe, once notorious for its ambition to annex the Silver Mane Tribe, now stood humiliated and desperate. For decades, the Duskin Tribe had boasted superior numbers, yet it had been the unshakable strength of the Silver Mane Tribe's leadership that had kept them at bay. And now? The mighty Duskin Tribe had folded like a weak hand in a game of cards.

Logan regarded Surshen and the others with an unreadable expression, his piercing gaze making their skin crawl. He allowed the silence to linger, watching as beads of sweat formed on Surshen's brow.

At last, he broke the tension. "It's good to see that you've come to understand your place." His voice was calm but carried the weight of authority. "Now, tell me, what are your thoughts on relocating the Duskin Tribe?"

The question was posed with a disarming smile, but to Surshen, it felt like a test. Was this a trap? He hesitated for only a moment before replying, choosing his words carefully. "Master Chief," he said, bowing deeply once more, "we will return to the tribe immediately. By tomorrow, we will begin relocating all our people to the Silver Mane Tribe's territory."

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "So quick? I like that. Very well, ensure your people know that they'll be provided for. The Silver Mane Tribe has enough food and shelter to go around. Let them come without hesitation."

"Yes, Lord Chief!" Surshen responded with a fervent nod. His posture relaxed slightly, though his nerves still hummed with fear. Logan's seemingly mild demeanor only reinforced the memory of his overwhelming strength. He couldn't help but replay the events in his mind. That casual strike, the way Arar crumpled, it was a miracle that he, Surshen, was still alive. On that fateful day in the Duskin conference hall, Logan had clearly held back. Had he chosen otherwise, Surshen doubted he'd be here groveling now.

As Logan turned his attention elsewhere, Surshen exhaled deeply, relief washing over him. The Silver Mane Tribe's young chief had spared him once, and for that, he was willing to abandon his pride. Survival demanded nothing less.

Surshen shifted uncomfortably, his expression betraying his hesitation. The silence was palpable until Logan broke it with a calm but commanding tone. "If there's something else on your mind, speak freely," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his eyes glimmered with authority.

Surshen straightened his back, gathering his courage. "My Lord," he began, voice steady but laced with urgency. "More than 400 of my soldiers are gravely injured. I beg you, in light of their loyalty in defecting and the fact that they are now part of your tribe, please ensure they receive treatment. They cannot be left to die!"

Logan's smile faded, replaced by a deep frown. "What do you mean? Are there no healers tending to these wounded men?" he asked sharply, his eyes narrowing as he fixed his gaze on Surshen.

Surshen faltered slightly but pressed on, knowing this moment was critical. "Perhaps... perhaps it's because the tribe doesn't have enough healers, pharmacists or priests. From what I've seen, they've prioritized treating the wounded of the Silver Mane Tribe first," he admitted hesitantly, glancing at Logan's face for a reaction. Seeing Logan's expression darken, he quickly added, "But some of my men are in dire condition. Last night alone, more than 20 of them succumbed to their injuries!"

Logan's face hardened further as he turned to his uncle Begon and Kro. His voice, now cold and firm, cut through the tension in the room. "What is going on?" he demanded.

Begon and Kro exchanged an uneasy look. Both men lowered their heads, remaining silent under the weight of their chief's scrutiny. Their reluctance to respond only fueled Logan's rising anger. He clenched his fists briefly before releasing them, taking a slow breath to calm himself. He understood.

It was natural that Begon, Kro, and the others had prioritized their own people. The Silver Mane Tribe's wounded had to come first, it was a logical decision when resources were scarce. But Logan also knew that the Duskin Tribe was now part of their fold. The death of over twenty Duskin warriors wasn't just a loss to Surshen; it was a loss to the Silver Mane Tribe as a whole. And that loss was unacceptable.

Logan's voice softened, though it carried an unmistakable edge of authority. "Begon, send word immediately: all priests and pharmacists are to tend to the wounded; every wounded warrior, regardless of whether they're of the Silver Mane Tribe or the Duskin Tribe. The Duskin warriors are no longer captives; they are our people now." He paused, his gaze firm as it swept over the room. "This kind of negligence, where soldiers die because they are overlooked, cannot happen again."

Begon stiffened but nodded quickly. "Understood, my Lord. I'll see to it right away."

Logan's expression didn't soften. "I know resources are stretched thin, and prioritizing our own wounded was a necessity," he acknowledged after a moment, his tone measured. "But these men, these new warriors; they've chosen to stand with us. Their lives are now our responsibility. Make sure every single one of them knows that."

"Yes, my Lord," Begon said, his voice steady, though he felt the weight of his nephew's words. He knew, deep down, that prioritizing their own tribe had been inevitable. With over 2,000 wounded orcs to tend to, even the most skilled healers couldn't handle such an influx at once. But he also understood why Logan had to take this stance; unity was fragile, and the Silver Mane Tribe couldn't afford divisions or resentment among their new members.

Surshen, watching the exchange, felt a mix of relief and gratitude. Logan turned to him and spoke with deliberate reassurance. "Surshen, rest assured, your men are no longer outsiders. They are part of the Silver Mane Tribe now, and they will be treated as such. Go back and tell them they won't be forgotten."

Surshen bowed deeply, his voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you, Lord Chief! I will let them know your kindness and care."

"Good," Logan said with a nod. "You may go."

Surshen and his companions bowed again, backing out of the conference hall with a renewed sense of respect and loyalty for their new chief.

Once the three had left, Logan turned back to Begon. His voice was quieter now, yet still carried the authority of a leader. "Uncle, you weren't wrong to prioritize our own tribe's wounded. I won't deny that. But moving forward, we need to make it clear: whether they're from the Silver Mane Tribe or new members like the Duskin warriors, we are one people now. Treat them all with the same care. Unity depends on it."

Begon nodded, understanding the deeper meaning behind Logan's words. "I'll make sure the healers know, my Lord," he said sincerely.

Satisfied, Logan dismissed the meeting. A few hours later, Kro, Lots, and Allen led a rested contingent of warriors to march out of the Silver Mane Tribe's territory, their confidence bolstered by their leader's resolve.

Meanwhile, whispers spread among the tribe. The Silver Mane Tribe was on the verge of becoming something greater, a force stronger than ever before. The unity of its people, old and new, was the foundation of its future strength. And in the days to come, that strength would solidify further, marking a new era for the Silver Mane Tribe