I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod-Chapter 76: Gifts of Power, Whispers of War
Chapter 76: Gifts of Power, Whispers of War
"So, who’s next?"
King Veerendra asked, his gaze sweeping over the remaining group.
He pointed toward someone. "Ah, you, young man. Come forward."
Seenu stepped up, straight-backed but nervous.
The King picked a thin, worn book from the golden chest beside him. "This is the Ten Slash Technique," he said, holding it up. "I heard you use the sword—so this would be a good match for you. If mastered perfectly, this technique allows you to deliver nine precise slashes in rapid succession. And the tenth?" He looked Seenu directly in the eye. "It can cut through the very fabric of matter itself. No armor, no shield, no magic barrier can withstand it."
Seenu bowed respectfully as he accepted the book, then stepped back, his expression burning with determination.
As Seenu stepped back, he couldn’t help but stare at the book in his hands. Ten slashes... and the final one could cut through anything?
He clenched his jaw. This wasn’t just a technique—it was a challenge. One he couldn’t afford to fail.
He thought of his past, the times he froze up during mock battles. This time, he would master it. No matter what.
Next, Kunal stepped forward confidently.
"Ah, Kunal Singhaniya. You favor daggers, don’t you?" Veerendra said with a knowing smile. "This—" he pulled out a scroll sealed with crimson wax, "—is Dancing Daggers. It’s a rare movement technique, perfect for a dagger user. With it, your every step becomes a feint, every movement a potential kill."
Kunal nodded, his eyes gleaming. "Thank you, Your Majesty." He took the scroll and moved aside.
Raj leaned over and whispered, "Dancing Daggers, huh? Gonna pirouette your enemies to death?" Kunal shot him a glare. "Jealous because you can’t dance?" Aamir chuckled. "Honestly, I can already imagine Kunal moving like a shadow. That technique sounds deadly in his hands." Kunal rolled the scroll between his fingers. Though he smiled, he was already planning out how many hours he’d dedicate each day. His family’s legacy demanded nothing less.
Then came Raj.
"Hmm, so you’re Raj," Veerendra said, examining him closely. "You rely too much on brute force and your fists, I hear. But you carry a sword now. Good."
He selected a thick book with a black leather cover. "This is Mountain Splitting Slash. It’s a one-hit technique. If your opponent is of equal strength—or just a bit stronger—you can defeat him in a single blow. But against someone far stronger... you’ll need to wear him down first."
Raj accepted the book with a quiet nod, gripping it tightly as he returned to his place.
Now it was the ladies’ turn.
Meera stepped forward.
"And may I know your name, pretty lady?" the King asked with a charming smile.
Raj whispered behind his hand, nudging Aamir, "This old man sure knows how to flatter women."
Aamir subtly kicked him in the ankle. "Shut up."
"I’m Meera Gouri," she replied confidently.
"Gouri? Are you related to Rizwana by any chance?"
"Yes, she’s my mother."
The King’s eyes widened. "Ah, so you’re the daughter of the Head of Vasundhara... Impressive lineage."
He handed her two short manuals tied together with silver thread. "This is Fang of the Crescent Moon. It’s a dagger technique that uses rapid spinning slashes while dodging. It creates an illusion of moon-shaped afterimages. Each step strikes from a different angle. If both daggers land a simultaneous blow from blind spots—" he snapped his fingers, "—it’s fatal."
Meera curtsied slightly, took the manuals, and stepped back with quiet grace.
Aamir whispered, "Remind me never to duel her in the dark." Meera turned back and smirked, clearly having heard him.
Finally, Riya approached.
"A mage, I presume?" the King said, lifting a palm-sized red tome. "Then this should be yours. Flame Dragon’s Wrath. As the name suggests, it summons a dragon made of flames. One of the most devastating fire spells ever created. Used properly, it can reduce an entire battalion to ashes."
Riya’s eyes widened in awe as she carefully accepted the book, her hands trembling slightly.
"You okay?" Meera asked softly, noticing Riya’s trembling hands. "Yeah," Riya replied, voice tight. "It’s just... this is the strongest spell I’ve ever held. If I mess up while casting it..." "Then don’t mess up," Meera said, nudging her shoulder playfully. Riya laughed nervously. "No pressure, huh?" frёeωebɳovel.com
The chamber fell quiet. All stood with their newly earned gifts, hearts pounding with purpose.
King Veerendra stepped forward once more. "These gifts I’ve given you," he said, his voice echoing through the hall, "are all Rank A techniques. They will grow alongside your strength and mastery. Use them well."
Then, he asked, "So, are all of you going to represent Aryavrata in the World Tournament?"
Aamir stepped ahead and answered, "Yes, Your Majesty. Everyone here—except Kunal."
The King tilted his head. "Oh? But why not you, Kunal?"
Kunal rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Ahe... Sir, I’m not really into fighting. I’m more interested in books."
"Ah, so you’re a nerd with strength, huh?" Veerendra chuckled. "Then why don’t you come and read from the Royal Palace’s library? There are plenty of valuable books here. You might enjoy it."
Kunal brightened. "Thank you, sir. I’d love that."
The King nodded. "Good. Then we’ll see each other at the tournament. Even if you’re not fighting, I hope you’ll still be there, Kunal."
"Yes, sir," Kunal said with a smile. "But I thought only the top twelve participants are allowed to go where the tournament takes place?"
"You heard right," the King replied. "But I’ll speak to Haider. Don’t worry—we can make an exception this time."
"Thank you, sir."
"Then farewell," the King said with a proud look. "We’ll meet again soon."
With that, the group left the royal chamber, leaving the King behind.
As they walked down the palace corridor, Aamir stretched and said, "Well, that wasn’t bad at all. Master was worried for nothing."
"Speak for yourself," Seenu said. "I was sweating buckets back there." "You didn’t show it," Raj said with a nod of approval. Aamir looked at the golden hall fading behind them. For once, it felt like the path ahead was real—tangible. Not just a dream anymore.
Rajesh, walking ahead of them, turned around and smirked. "So, kids... Are you leaving today, or staying here for a while?"
Seenu answered first, "We’d love to stay, but Aamir and I have training starting again tomorrow. So we’ll be heading back."
"Yeah," Raj added. "Same for me. Training starts right away."
Rajesh nodded. "Understood. Then rest here for now—we’ll arrange the portal for your return."
Meanwhile, at Nalanda University...
Inside Haider’s office, Afreen leaned against the window, arms crossed.
"So, Haider... What were you talking about earlier?" she asked.
Haider’s face was serious. "I’m worried about this year’s tournament. I don’t think it’ll go as smoothly as people expect."
"Because of the students who were attacked?"
He nodded. "Yes. I fear those same forces will strike again. They won’t dare attack while our students are at Nalanda... but once they arrive in Valtania, where the tournament takes place, it’s a different story."
Afreen frowned. "There aren’t many security forces stationed there, are there?"
"Exactly," Haider said. "That’s why we need to be cautious. And make preparations... in secret."
Far away... from the deserts of Aryavrata, beyond the Shivering Dunes and the Zephyr Sea, lay the foreign land of Galvia—a kingdom of ever-clouded skies and twisted pine forests. It was a land where the language was different, the people were colder, and power whispered through shadows.
On a small island off Galvia’s eastern coast stood a fortress darker than night itself—the base of the Green Serpent Guild. Though part of Galvia by geography, the guild lived by no king’s law. They killed for coin, for silence, for power.
On the highest wall of this jagged castle stood a man cloaked in deep crimson. His face was obscured by a bone-white mask etched with an emerald serpent. The moonlight reflected off his armor like blood on steel.
Behind him, another man dropped to one knee, his voice trembling.
"Guild master... all the assassins we sent after the Aryavratan students... they’re dead. Every last one."
The man in crimson didn’t flinch. His gaze remained locked on the stormy horizon.
"So... they’ve grown stronger."
He turned slightly, his voice calm but venomous.
"No matter. We were not tasked to kill them in their homeland. We’ll do it elsewhere."
He walked along the battlements, his boots echoing against stone.
"Send word to the others. Prepare our best. When the World Tournament begins, so will the hunt."
The kneeling man hesitated. "And if anyone discovers—?"
The crimson figure stopped, deadly still.
"No one must know we were hired. That is our first and final priority."
He raised a hand, and green mist curled around his fingertips like living smoke.
"Let Aryavrata believe this is fate. Let the world think it’s coincidence."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he whispered,
"Send the Serpent’s Fang unit. The best we have. This time... we strike from the shadows."
Lightning cracked in the distance. Thunder rolled across the sky.
Beneath that storm, the island fortress of the Green Serpent Guild pulsed like a heart ready to bleed.
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