I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod-Chapter 207: Teaching Pran

After the battle with Shamrock’s vassal and the scattered remnants of corrupted beasts, Aamir stood quietly in the forest, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.

The air was still tense, heavy with the lingering echoes of chaos and death. The Crimson System blinked faintly in front of his eyes, a new notification appearing after the waves of energy from the battle subsided.

[Level Up! You have reached Level 84.]

[Bloodline Purity Increased: 38%]

[Experience Gained: +1200 EXP]

Aamir smirked faintly, though there was a trace of disappointment in his crimson gaze. Just one level... he thought. If not for the imposed limits of his system, the sheer power output during the battle could have pushed him several levels higher. But he reminded himself, limits were temporary; training and hunting would always close the gap.

Seemus, who had been standing silently beside him, glanced at Aamir. "Level 84 already? You’ve grown even stronger." His tone carried both admiration and a hint of awe.

Aamir shook his head lightly. "It’s not enough. Shamrock absorbed the Beast. That power... it’s unlike anything I’ve faced. I need to be stronger. Much stronger."

After taking a brief rest, Aamir turned his focus to the beasts that still roamed the forests of Planet Sacre. Unlike the previous encounter with wild werewolves or rogue beasts, this time his approach was different—deliberate, patient.

He began the process of taming, much like he had done on the Vampire Planet. One by one, the strong Titan-tier and Legend-tier beasts approached him cautiously, sensing his aura, the dominance radiating from his very presence.

Beastlord’s Domain hummed faintly in the background, subtly asserting his will over those creatures. Aamir moved through the forests methodically, marking and connecting with each beast.

Some took only minutes to acknowledge him as their master; others, those stronger and more stubborn, required hours, sometimes entire days of persistent assertion.

The process was not violent. He did not force them with raw strength but guided them, earned their respect. Slowly, the forests of Sacre were no longer just a wild, untamed land—they became a kingdom under Aamir’s unseen rule.

By the end of the twentieth day, nearly all strong beasts of the planet had bowed to him, acknowledging his command.

Titans, Legends, and even a handful of the remaining corrupted creatures that had not been fully consumed were reined in, pacified, and marked as his pets.

Seemus watched in quiet awe as Aamir moved among the beasts, a living emblem of authority and balance. "You really make it seem easy," he murmured. "Even creatures that would devour us all... they follow you."

Aamir chuckled softly, though it held a weight of responsibility. "Strength isn’t just about defeating enemies. It’s about guiding, controlling... protecting. That’s why I never killed them. Every life counts, even here."

After the beasts were tamed, Aamir spent a few more days on the planet, walking among his new charges, ensuring the packs were stable and the surviving werewolves were safe.

He observed their interactions, teaching some of the younger werewolves small lessons in discipline, cooperation, and control, much like he had done with the children on the Vampire Planet. Planet Sacre, despite its violence and corruption, began to feel almost... peaceful under his presence.

Finally, after nearly a month in total, Aamir turned to Seemus and the other surviving werewolves. His crimson eyes softened slightly, the weight of command and responsibility momentarily lifting. "I’ve done all I can here," he said. "The planet is safe for now. The beasts are under my control. You all must continue protecting it, and I trust you will."

Seemus bowed respectfully. "We will, Lord Aamir. Planet Sacre has never had a guardian like you."

Aamir smiled faintly, then focused. The air around him shimmered as he activated his portal ability. A rift tore open before him, a swirling passage of light and energy, radiating warmth and power. The beasts and werewolves stepped back instinctively, respecting the space he had created.

"This portal will take me back to the Vampire Planet," Aamir said, his voice calm but resolute. "There are still battles to be fought, and power to regain. The threat of Shamrock and the others won’t wait, and neither will I."

With that, Aamir stepped into the portal. Behind him, the forests of Sacre remained quiet, but alive with the presence of the beasts now bound to his will.

Seemus watched the rift close, his golden eyes reflecting both admiration and a deep sense of loyalty.

He understood that Aamir’s journey was far from over, that each planet, each battle, each decision would shape the universe itself.

The portal snapped shut with a faint hum, leaving Planet Sacre peaceful but forever marked by the hand of its new master.

The air inside the royal hall of the Vampire Kingdom grew heavy the moment Aamir stepped through his portal. His presence filled the chamber instantly—raw, commanding, undeniable. The crimson torches along the walls flickered violently, as though bowing to the energy he carried with him.

Nine vampire lords stood with Zalmic, their crimson eyes widening at the sudden arrival. Every single one of them stiffened under the weight of his aura.

Zalmic rose from his throne, his usually composed face breaking into a rare expression of relief.

"Lord Aamir—you’ve returned. What happened on Planet Sacre?"

Aamir’s crimson eyes swept across the room before settling on Zalmic. His voice was steady, almost casual, but carried the kind of authority that made every vampire present bow their heads.

"Nothing unexpected. I finished my work there, tamed what needed to be tamed, and secured the werewolves. That planet won’t be a problem anymore."

The lords murmured among themselves, some in awe, others simply bewildered. For them, "securing" a planet was a task beyond imagination. For Aamir, it sounded like a line in passing.

Then Aamir’s expression shifted slightly—more thoughtful, more deliberate.

"But I didn’t come back just to report. I came because I have something for you, Zalmic. Something I think can change the strength of your kingdom."

Zalmic frowned, curiosity sparking in his golden-crimson eyes. "What is it, Lord Aamir?"

Aamir glanced around the chamber once more, then shook his head.

"Not here. This isn’t the place. Gather your lords. Let’s go outside, somewhere open."

Without hesitation, Zalmic gave a sharp nod. The lords fell into formation, following their king and Aamir as they exited the towering doors of the royal hall. The night air outside was sharp and cool, the crimson moon casting its glow over the capital. They walked in silence, their steps echoing against the cobblestone paths until they reached the vast training grounds behind the palace.

Here, the ground was scarred with past battles—craters, blade marks, dried patches of blood. It was a place meant for warriors, and now, it would serve for something greater.

Aamir stopped at the center of the grounds, his hand resting loosely on the hilt of his blackened sword. His aura pulsed faintly, a reminder of his presence as every vampire stood around him in silence.

Finally, he spoke.

"What I’m going to teach you is called... pran."

The word itself seemed foreign, alien, carrying a weight none of the vampires recognized. The lords exchanged puzzled glances. Even Zalmic raised a brow, unfamiliar with the term.

"Pran?" he repeated.

Aamir nodded. "It’s the essence of life and combat flowing through every being. Different from blood, different from magic, different even from aura. It’s energy that exists in all of us, but few can control it. If mastered, it becomes the foundation to push your strength beyond limits."

He raised his hand, and a faint glow shimmered around his palm—a layered mix of crimson, blue, and faint orange sparks, the fusion of his own pran and adrenaline energy. The ground beneath him cracked under the subtle pulse of power.

The lords instinctively stepped back, their eyes widening.

"This is pran control," Aamir said simply. "And tonight, I’ll show you how to awaken it."

Flashback – Planet Sacre, Before Departure

The skies of Planet Sacre stretched wide and crimson, the light of its twin moons bleeding across jagged cliffs and sprawling forests below. Aamir stood alone atop a high ridge, his arms crossed as the wind tugged at his cloak. His crimson system screen hovered faintly before him, the soft hum of its presence breaking the silence.

He wasn’t watching the horizon—he was thinking.

"Zorwath..." The name left his lips like a curse. His eyes narrowed, memories flashing in his mind of devastation and power that could level entire worlds. "He isn’t just strong. He’s practically unstoppable. If my allies are too weak, they’ll be crushed before the real war even begins."

For once, doubt edged his voice.

Then a calm, synthetic tone spoke in his mind, clear and steady.

[Luman]: Host, I have a suggestion.

Aamir straightened. "Go on."

[Luman]: If you want them to stand against beings like Zorwath, you cannot fight alone. But you can raise their foundation. Teach them something that can be passed down, something universal.

Aamir frowned. "Like what? I can’t give them my system. I can’t force my bloodline onto them. My flames... my domain... none of that is compatible."

[Luman]: Correct. But pran—

The word resonated through his mind like an echo.

[Luman]: Pran exists within every living being, whether vampire, werewolf, or human. It is the breath of life itself, the raw current that drives strength, speed, and will. Unlike your other abilities, pran can be taught. If they learn to control it, their power will multiply.

Aamir blinked, then chuckled, shaking his head. "Pran, huh? It’s so obvious, I almost forgot. The most common energy in existence... but also the one nobody bothers to refine properly."

His eyes hardened, glowing faintly crimson in the night.

"That’s it. That’s what I’ll teach them. If they master pran, they’ll be able to stand on their own feet... maybe even against Zorwath’s shadow."

The decision weighed heavy but settled like iron in his chest. He knew then—before he left this planet, before he set foot back in the Vampire Kingdom—that his allies’ strength would no longer be optional. It would be a necessity.