I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod-Chapter 134: The Man In The Tample

Pain.

That was the only word Aamir’s mind could understand.

His ribs screamed. His back throbbed. His lungs were barely holding onto the concept of breathing. He tried to slide back, crawl away, do anything—but before he could retreat even an inch, a hand clamped around his ankle like a vice.

"No—"

He wanted to scream, to vanish, to turn invisible. Anything but this. But the grip around his ankle was unbreakable—like steel wrapped in anger. His mind raced.

"Is this how it ends?"

The world tilted—and then the floor came up like a fist.

The word barely left his lips before he was lifted off the ground like a ragdoll.

And then—

SLAM.

His body struck the temple floor with bone-rattling force.

SLAM.

Again.

SLAM.

And again.

Each impact stole a piece of him. Ribs cracked. Breath vanished. The air tasted like iron and dust. Thoughts dissolved into pain.

He couldn’t even cry out anymore. Just survive. Just hold on. Just—

Stone cracked beneath his weight. Blood flew from his lips. The ancient dust in the air seemed to dance in horror at the violence being committed.

Spark hissed, leaping forward with surprising fury. The little creature stood between Aamir and the towering figure, his fur bristled, glowing scales brightening as if ready to ignite.

"HISSS!!"

He jumped in front of Aamir, tail flaring with golden light. His tiny frame vibrated with desperate energy. This wasn’t some trained attack—this was raw emotion. Loyalty. Love.

"Chriiik!" he screamed, striking the man’s shin again and again, claws glowing with wild spirit force.

The man glanced down—not annoyed, not threatened. Simply... curious.

"You love him that much?" he said to Spark.

The little creature didn’t flinch. If anything, he stood taller.

Aamir’s blurred gaze locked on Spark’s silhouette. "You idiot... you brave idiot..."

And for a flickering second, he smiled through the blood.

Spark’s glowing body quivered with energy. He didn’t just want to protect Aamir—he was ready to die for him. His tiny claws sparked with aura as he charged and bit into the man’s leg.

"YEEK!" he screeched, refusing to move even when his body trembled with fear.

Aamir saw him through his blurred vision—his last friend standing between him and the end.

He headbutted the man’s shin in protest, baring tiny fangs and glowing claws.

The man—still silent—glanced down at the creature in mild amusement, like one might observe a brave mouse gnawing at a lion’s toe.

Spark didn’t retreat. He smacked his tail hard against the man’s leg again and again, a desperate act of protection.

Aamir coughed hard, blood trailing down his chin as he managed a hoarse voice.

"Wait... wait... just listen to me... I’m not your enemy!"

The man’s hand didn’t move, still gripping Aamir’s leg mid-air.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Oh yeah?" he said. His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous.

"And who exactly gets to decide that—you?"

Aamir gritted his teeth, forcing himself to speak through bloodied lips.

"Look—I don’t know who you are. Or what you’ve been through. But I’m not here to fight you."

He wasn’t even sure if the words mattered. He just didn’t want to die with misunderstanding on his breath.

He flung Aamir’s body down one final time.

THUD.

Aamir groaned, trying to curl into himself as his body trembled from the pain. He forced his head up.

"I’m human! Just like you..." he managed to say, coughing violently.

The man didn’t budge. His arms crossed.

"Strange," he muttered. "Because your life force doesn’t say that."

Aamir blinked.

"W-What...?"

The man crouched beside him, staring into his eyes like he could peel back his soul.

"It’s twisted. You reek of beasts. Corruption. Like something that crawled out of the old world but never finished becoming whole."

Aamir shook his head weakly.

"That’s because... I have a special ability. I can absorb beasts’ energy. And evolve."

A long silence followed.

The man didn’t blink.

"And you think I’m going to believe that?"

Aamir coughed again and gave a tired half-smile.

"Believe what you want. But I’m not lying. I’m trapped here. Same as you."

The man stared.

Then slowly stood, arms behind his back.

"If you’re telling the truth... tell me this—did ’Two Piece’ ever end?"

Aamir squinted through the haze.

"...What?"

The man stepped forward, voice sharper.

"Don’t act dumb. Did it end? The anime."

Aamir blinked in confusion.

"Anime? You mean... T.V. shows? I’ve read about those. We don’t have them anymore. That technology was lost millennia ago."

Vaibhav blinked in disbelief.

"So all of that... All the things we built. The stories, the tech, the world... gone."

His voice cracked on that last word. Not from sorrow. But from disbelief.

He wasn’t just hearing time had passed—he was feeling it crush him.

The man froze.

Aamir continued, confused.

"T.V.s... I think I saw one once. In a museum. People used to watch stories on them, right?"

The man turned his back, exhaling sharply.

"...Millennia...? What year is it?"

Aamir winced and wiped his mouth.

"It’s 3725. Why? What’s wrong?"

The man placed his palm over his face and looked up toward the ceiling.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t joy.

It was despair.

A deep, bitter laugh that echoed off the temple walls like a scream swallowed by time.

"No way..." he muttered. "It’s been... that long?"

He looked broken for a second—like a man who had just realized the world he loved had crumbled into dust long ago.

Aamir sat up slowly, ignoring the agony in his ribs.

"Mister... are you okay?"

The man didn’t answer at first.

Then he turned.

"Kid... before we go any further. Tell me—do you know anyone named Zoravar?"

Aamir’s brow furrowed.

"No... I’ve never heard that name before. Was he someone important?"

The man’s gaze dropped.

"He was."

He looked like he was going to say more.

Then something shifted in his expression. His eyes sharpened.

"Wait. What about Zorwath?"

Aamir’s throat tightened. Just the sound of that name clawed through the air like a curse.

His system pulsed a warning he didn’t need. Memories flashed—blood on marble. Screams. The coldness in his uncle’s eyes as they dimmed forever.

His voice was barely a whisper.

"He’s back."

The man saw it.

"So he’s still alive."

Aamir nodded slowly, voice low.

"He... he came back. We didn’t know. We weren’t ready."

"What’s the world like out there?" the man asked.

Aamir bit his lip.

"It was recovering. There was peace. A tournament was being held. Aryavrata was finally winning the war. And then..."

He looked down.

"They unsealed him. The enemy nations. They thought they could control him. But they were wrong."

The man’s jaw tensed.

"He wasn’t always like this," he muttered.

Aamir looked up.

"You knew him?"

"Knew the man. Not the monster."

The temple fell into silence again.

Even Spark had stopped growling.

Then the man walked forward, crouched again beside Aamir.

"And he wants your energy?"

Aamir hesitated.

Then nodded.

"Yeah. He said I’m... part of him. I don’t even know what that means."

The words tasted like ash on his tongue. Part of him? What did that mean? Was he a piece of the monster? A vessel? A mistake born from the same fire?

Aamir could still hear Zorwath’s voice—the way it echoed, deep and calm and final. As if he wasn’t just speaking words but declaring fate.

"You were made from me, child. You’ll return to me in time."

Aamir shook the memory off, his eyes flashing with resolve.

"Even if that’s true... I’ll choose my path. Not his."

He didn’t say it aloud, but his heart screamed it.

I am not you. I never will be.

The man grunted.

"It means he’s getting desperate. Which is good. Desperate beings make mistakes."

"But I’m not strong enough."

He lowered his head. For the first time in a long time... he wanted to cry.

"I tried. I gave everything. I just... I don’t know if that’s enough anymore."

The silence that followed felt louder than screams.

The man was silent.

Then he spoke again.

"If what you’re saying is true, then Zorwath isn’t at full power yet. He’ll need time to recover completely. Which means..."

He paused.

"You have a window. Not big. But enough."

Aamir’s eyes lit up with hope.

"How much time?"

"Three years. Maybe less. Depends on how fast he finds more energy."

Aamir nodded, clutching his chest.

"Three years... but I don’t even know how to get out of this place. I’ve been stuck here ever since the system dragged me in. There’s no exit."

The man stood and stretched.

"I know how to leave."

Aamir looked up, eyes wide.

"You do?"

"Yes."

A long pause.

"But you’re not ready."

Aamir blinked.

"...Why not?"

The man turned his gaze to the wall carvings.

"Because this place isn’t a prison. It’s a forge. And you haven’t been tempered enough to survive what’s waiting outside."

Aamir clenched his fists.

"Then help me. Train me."

The man raised an eyebrow.

"So eager. Even after I used you as a mop?"

Aamir winced, but held his ground.

"I’ve been hit harder. Well—actually no, that was probably the hardest, but the point is I’m not giving up."

The man smirked faintly.

"You’ve got the fire. That’s good. But fire alone won’t save the world."

"Then give me the tools. Teach me how to turn it into something more."

The mam suddenly leaned in.

"Last question."

Aamir blinked, wary.

"If I told you that training with me might kill you... would you still do it?"

"If I don’t," Aamir replied, "we’re all dead anyway."

That answer made Vaibhav smile for real—for the first time.

Aamir wiped his mouth again, smearing blood across his palm.

"You think there’s hope?" he asked quietly. "Even now?"

The man didn’t answer at first. He looked toward the murals—the history carved into this place like scars on the world itself.

"Hope?" he said at last. "It’s not given. It’s carved. Earned. Bled for. If you want it—you don’t wait. You fight."

He turned to face Aamir again, a strange calm in his eyes.

"The question isn’t if there’s hope. It’s if you’re willing to become the one who brings it."

Then, finally, he extended a hand.

"Vaibhav."

Aamir reached out, gripping the hand.

"Aamir Singh."

They shook.

Spark chirped in confusion, then curled up on Aamir’s shoulder.

Vaibhav released the handshake.

"We start tomorrow."

"And today?"

Vaibhav smiled.

"You rest. Heal. And think about what kind of warrior you want to become. Because once training starts, I won’t go easy. I train heroes. Not survivors."

Aamir gave a tired laugh.

"Good. Because I don’t plan to survive."

He looked up, fire returning to his eyes.

"I plan to win."

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