I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod-Chapter 106: March Toward the Warfront
Chapter 106: March Toward the Warfront
Three days had passed since Aamir and his companions returned from Valtania. Though their bodies still ached from the brutal training sessions during the tournament arc, none of them allowed themselves to rest. The specter of war loomed over the continent, and every moment counted.
Inside the training hall, the sound of weapons clashing echoed. Sweat glistened on brows, and flames of determination burned in every eye.
"Alright, everyone! Get your gear ready!" Afreen’s voice rang with authority as she entered the hall, her long crimson coat fluttering behind her. "Today, we move out."
Aamir, tightening the straps on his gauntlets, approached her. "Miss Afreen, where exactly are we heading? I mean... where will the war actually begin?" ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
Afreen turned to him, adjusting her gloves. "Good question. You already know that our continent—Eridoria—is surrounded by three others. To the east lies the Valtor Continent, where you’ve just returned from—home to Valtania, Maravalia, and Danovia."
Aamir nodded, recalling the massive colosseum of Valtania, the blood-soaked fields, and the ancient techniques passed on by their king.
"To the west of Eridoria," she continued, "is Zhinai, which consists of Kyokai, Carnelia, and Zhonghua—lands of mystic arts and ruthless warlords."
"And southeast lies Kyrope," Afreen added, her tone lowering slightly, "where the last three nations—Arora, Valkoria, and Zendor—are located. You know that much, don’t you?"
"Yes, ma’am," Aamir said.
She pulled out a map and laid it across the table. "Now listen carefully. In the center of our continent, surrounded by Aryavrata, Calonia, Galvia, and Navarra, there’s a vast piece of land—once called the No Man’s Land. We now call it the Non-Occupied Territory. That’s where this war will begin."
Raj stepped forward, brows knitted in concern. "But ma’am... isn’t that land infested with beasts? Won’t they interfere during battle?"
Afreen smirked slightly. "Good point, Raj. Twenty years ago, that land was indeed crawling with wild, high-rank beasts. But ever since the ’Beast Purge Campaign,’ it’s been largely cleared. Only low-rank beasts remain now. They might growl, but they won’t roar. In other words, nothing we can’t handle."
"Sounds manageable," Seenu muttered, adjusting his robe. "Still, I’d prefer fighting humans to dealing with a pack of wild fangs mid-battle."
"You might get both," Riya said dryly.
After that, they all got into the Runewheeler and headed toward the front lines.
After hours of travel in heavily armored Runewheelers, they finally reached the outer border of Aryavrata. Beyond it stretched an eerie silence—the Non-Occupied Land. It looked like a place frozen in time, where shattered weapons and bones peeked out of the dirt, remnants of old wars.
Afreen stepped out first. The wind tousled her black hair as she approached the watchtower. A soldier, clad in dark green armor and carrying a glaive, saluted sharply.
"Commander Afreen!" he barked. But his eyes shifted toward the Runewheeler behind her, and his expression darkened as he saw the teenagers step out. "Ma’am, pardon me... but this is no place for children."
Aamir furrowed his brows, but Afreen raised a hand to stop him.
"Don’t jump to conclusions, soldier," she said coolly. "These two—Aamir and Seenu—were appointed Commanders personally by General Haider Ali. And the rest—Raj, Kunal, Meera, and Riya—are Lieutenants. They’ve Survived a full fledged assasin attack. That’s more than most veterans can claim."
The soldier’s eyes widened, disbelief washing over his face. "C-Commanders? But they’re so young..."
Raj scratched the back of his head and said with a grin, "Guess war doesn’t check your age before dragging you in, huh?"
The soldier blinked, speechless.
"And besides," Kunal added with a teasing smirk, "Don’t underestimate teenagers with trauma, and talent. That’s a deadly combo."
Afreen chuckled. "You’ll get used to them. Now take us to the war camp. We’ll be setting up Command Tents by dusk."
As the group moved forward, the tension in the air thickened. The sky above the Non-Occupied Land seemed darker than usual, as if nature itself was holding its breath.
The final battle had yet to begin. But for Aamir and his friends, their war was already in motion.
Aamir and his friends stepped out behind Afreen, their boots crunching the dry earth beneath. Ahead of them lay rows of tents, each one marked with the flag of Aryavrata. But it was the largest one, in the center, that caught their attention.
"That’s where the strategists and generals are," Afreen said without looking back. "Follow me. Don’t speak unless spoken to. This is a room where wars are shaped, not dreams."
The group nodded, their expressions serious. There was no joking now—not when their next steps could change the fate of the continent.
They entered the command tent, where a long wooden table stood in the center, surrounded by high-ranking officials. Maps were spread across it, pins and markers stuck at critical points. Around the table sat the finest minds of Aryavrata, including the Guild Leader of Nalanda and several commanders with years of battlefield experience.
All conversation stopped the moment the group entered. Every eye turned toward them.
One man, with sharp features and graying hair, leaned back in his chair and said in a cold voice, "Why are there children here? This is no academy."
Before Afreen could respond, a calm yet firm voice cut through the tension.
"They’re not just children."
Everyone turned toward the center of the table, where a tall man with a commanding presence sat—General Haider Ali.
He stood, placing both hands on the map before him. "These two," he said, nodding toward Aamir and Raj, "will be serving under me. They are Commanders now."
Gasps of disbelief echoed around the room.
An older tactician, dressed in faded military robes, narrowed his eyes. "Commanders? These kids? They’ll be dead before they can give their first order."
Aamir clenched his fists but said nothing. He could feel the eyes on him—some full of doubt, others filled with amusement. But Haider Ali didn’t flinch.
"You underestimate them," the general said, his tone calm but sharp. "They’ve faced death more times than you can count. They survived Valtania and returned stronger. I made them Commanders for a reason."
The older tactician stood, raising a hand in protest. "You’ve made a mistake, Haider. This is a war, not a trial ground for your students. Our soldiers need leaders, not hopefuls."
Haider Ali’s gaze turned steely. He locked eyes with the man and spoke slowly, "Are you saying I made the wrong decision?"
The tent grew silent.
The tactician held the stare for a few seconds—then sat down slowly. "...No, sir."
"Good," Haider Ali said, then looked at the others around the table. "Because anyone who questions my orders in front of my soldiers has no place giving them."
A heavy silence followed. Aamir’s heart was pounding. He had never been in a room like this, where every word carried weight, where every look could start or end a war.
"Now," Haider Ali continued, turning to one of the younger tacticians, "start explaining the strategy."
The tactician unrolled a larger map and placed it on the table.
The tactician’s finger hovered over the northern edge of the map, tapping twice.
"Calonia’s forces are marching in from the east, as expected," he said, voice steady. "But earlier this morning, our scouts confirmed that Navarra’s army is advancing from the north. And among the Calonian ranks... soldiers bearing the black-and-gold sigil of Valkoria have been spotted."
A ripple of murmurs swept across the room.
"Wait—Valkoria?" one of the tacticians spoke up, disbelief in his tone. "They were neutral. Why would they suddenly ally with Calonia?"
"Navarra as well," another added grimly. "Their last treaty with Aryavrata was just signed three years ago."
The man presenting the map frowned, adjusting a pin on the northern side. "We’re not sure why, but our spies confirmed it. Navarra and Valkoria are now openly supporting Calonia’s offensive."
Haider Ali’s jaw clenched slightly. "And who’s commanding this coalition?"
"Not Ivanka," the tactician replied. "She’s missing. The one leading the combined army... is General Michael of Navarra."
Gasps erupted. Several commanders straightened in their seats, a few exchanging uneasy glances.
"Michael..." an older strategist muttered, stroking his white beard. "He’s a ghost on the battlefield. A tactician with a flawless record. Every army he’s led has never known defeat."
"He’s just as dangerous as Ivanka," another added.
Haider Ali narrowed his eyes, thinking deeply. Ivanka doesn’t move without reason. If she’s absent, she’s planning something else... or something worse. He didn’t speak those words aloud—but the weight of that thought pressed heavily on his mind.
"Whatever they’re planning, we need to be ready on both fronts," Haider said, stepping closer to the map. "Our forces will need to split. Aryavrata’s eastern battalions will engage Calonia and Valkoria. I’ll lead the central push. Commander Aamir, Commander Seenu—you’ll take charge of the southern wing, where the terrain will be rough. That’s where they’ll test our flanks."
Aamir blinked. "The southern front?"
"Yes," Haider replied, his voice sharp but supportive. "It’s dense, uneven, and forested. Perfect for ambushes. That’s why I’m sending you. I trust your instincts. Keep your unit mobile. Avoid full engagement unless absolutely necessary."
Haider Ali’s words rang through the tent like thunder.
"I’ll give you both two hours. Choose the best team to accompany you, then be ready to move."
He looked across the table at the stunned tacticians and seasoned warriors. His gaze was unflinching, powerful—commanding not just respect, but silence.
"And one more thing," he added, his eyes scanning the room.
A subtle murmur began, but it was cut short when Haider raised his hand.
"Carnelia has confirmed they’re sending reinforcements. A full battalion. Their elite cavalry will arrive within the next two days."
Gasps and quiet cheers followed. Carnelia’s cavalry was legendary.
"And Kyokai..." Haider’s voice softened with a slight grin. "They’ve already arrived. They’re waiting for our signal."
Aamir and Seenu exchanged glances. Kyokai—the mystic warriors of the west. Trained in spiritual warfare, their arrival changed the game.
Haider finally turned his eyes back to the two teenage commanders.
"You asked me why I chose you," he said, voice low but resolute. "Here’s your answer. You’ll be leading real soldiers, fighting real enemies, and commanding real lives. You will make mistakes. But you’ll learn. You’ll adapt. And you’ll survive."
Aamir swallowed hard.
Seenu gave a faint nod, his expression unusually serious.
Haider stepped closer. "The southern front will break or hold based on your leadership. You’ll face scouts, ambushes, terrain that eats armor, and shadows that don’t belong to anything human. But I trust your instincts more than I trust the old tactics of cowards who’ve forgotten how to fight."
He turned back toward the table.
"Now go."
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