I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod-Chapter 88: Tournament Dawn

"...No way."

Aamir’s breath caught in his throat, the words barely registering in his mind. He blinked, staring at the screen that hovered in front of him, its soft glow illuminating his surroundings. His eyes widened as the text flickered, offering more details than he could comprehend in a single moment.

"I got the Unbreakable Sword... and I didn’t even know that?" he muttered under his breath, still trying to process the new revelation.

Curious, Aamir instinctively clicked on the sword’s icon, and more information began to unfold before his eyes. Text appeared line by line, each word carrying with it an overwhelming weight.

Weapon Name: Black Ashblade

Material: Bone of the Bahamut

Class - Mythic Relic

Weapon Rank: S-rank (Unbreakable Weapon)

Origin: Crafted from the remains of a Bahamut, the God’s Dragon. Its bones are one of the hardest known materials in the universe.

Note: No one has ever seen a Bahamut and lived. Even its remains are believed to be lost to time.

His jaw slackened, the magnitude of this discovery slowly sinking in.

"This sword... was made from that?" he whispered, barely able to fathom what he was reading.

Luman, who had been silently observing him. His voice broke the silence, a touch of curiosity in his tone. "If it’s made from a Bahamut’s bones, then it must be from the highest class of beast—the Apex Class. You’re kidding? It’s one of the most dangerous creatures to ever exist."

Aamir continued to stare at the sword, now humming softly with a quiet power that seemed to pulse in sync with his heartbeat. "Yeah..." he mumbled, his mind racing. The weight of holding such a weapon, one forged from the bones of a creature no one had even seen and survived, was immense.

Luman gave a slight nod, sensing the gravity of the moment. "Anyway, you should sleep now. Tomorrow your matches start, and you need to be well-rested."

Aamir agreed, his thoughts still clouded by the implications of the sword in his possession. As Aamir lay down, staring at the ceiling, fragmented memories of his past battles flooded his mind—moments when his sword never chipped, even when clashing with enemies stronger than him. He had always chalked it up to good luck or durability enchantments.

But now it made sense.

That blade had been enduring, waiting, adapting with him.

He clenched his fist. "How long have you been mine... and why reveal yourself now?"

The glow of the system interface dimmed, fading into the night as his thoughts drifted into uneasy dreams—of dragons, ash, and bones that screamed..

The Next Day

The morning arrived in a whirlwind of anticipation and excitement. The streets surrounding the grand stadium were alive with activity, the air buzzing with the sounds of eager spectators, vendors hawking their wares, and fans shouting in support of their countries. Flags from all corners of the world fluttered in the wind, each one a symbol of pride for the nations participating in the tournament.

Aamir, along with his fellow contestants, walked through a special entrance into the Contestants’ Zone. The area was filled with the hum of mana and a palpable tension that seemed to settle into the bones of everyone present. The warriors were all dressed in uniforms, each one bearing the emblem of their respective countries, their faces serious and eyes focused on the challenges ahead.

Meanwhile, in the spectator stands, Kunal quietly found his seat. Though he wasn’t participating, his presence here was deliberate. He made his way to the public audience stands, finding a quiet corner that offered an excellent view of all five stages spread out across the vast arena.

Once seated, Kunal opened his book and began flipping through the pages, the surrounding noise fading into nothing more than background static. He had come to watch the matches, but he preferred the solitude of his book to the chaos around him.

"Um... excuse me," a soft voice interrupted his concentration.

Kunal didn’t look up immediately, simply muttering, "Yes, why not. You can sit."

He heard the sound of light footsteps as the girl settled beside him, her movements fluid and graceful, almost noble in nature. She didn’t seem like one of the ordinary spectators. Kunal finally glanced up, but the girl was already looking ahead, her eyes fixed on the massive stage where the tournament would unfold.

The girl sat down with practiced poise, her back straight, her presence serene. She wore a high-collared cloak, navy blue with silver trim, and an ornate pin that resembled a crescent moon held the fabric together at her chest.

Kunal flipped another page, pretending not to notice—but he was observant by nature.

Moon sigil... from Lunareth, perhaps? Royalty?

"Is that book on rune theory?" she asked suddenly, her voice soft but clear.

Kunal blinked. Most people wouldn’t recognize the subject from a glance.

"...Yes."

"I thought so. The binding glyph on the corner is from the old Everen Codex. Not many people study those anymore."

That caught his attention. He glanced sideways, really looking at her for the first time.

"You’re not just here for entertainment, are you?"

She gave him a faint smile. "Neither are you."

Kunal shut his book slowly. "Touche."

Back in the arena, the spotlight flashed on the central stage. A well-dressed man with spiky blonde hair and a beaming smile stepped forward, gripping a microphone with a flourish.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the greatest spectacle of our era—The World Tournament of Wizardry and Warfare!" he boomed, his voice echoing across the stadium.

The crowd erupted into cheers.

"I’m your host, John! I’ll be guiding you through every thrilling match, every explosive clash, and every unforgettable moment!" he added, his enthusiasm infectious.

The crowd roared once again in response, their excitement palpable.

John raised a hand for silence, signaling that it was time for the important details.

"Before the matches begin, allow me to explain the format and rules. We have 144 contestants—the best of the best from across the world! Each group contains 12 students, one from each participating nation. These groups are further divided into 3 mini-groups of 4, and each mini-group will battle in a single-elimination format."

Gasps of excitement spread through the crowd as they processed the scale of the tournament. This was no ordinary competition. This was a battle of the most powerful warriors, wizards, and tacticians.

"The winner of each mini-group will advance to the second round—meaning three representatives from every group will move forward!"

John pointed toward the giant projection above the stadium, which displayed the group diagrams. Aamir, along with the other contestants, could see the groups and their respective lineups. Aamir’s eyes scanned the screen, his heart racing as he realized he was in Group 1, and more specifically, in Mini-group B of Group 1. The three other contestants in his mini-group were from Carnelia, Galvia, and Valtania—each one a powerful opponent in their own right.

Aamir’s eyes stopped on the Carnelian contestant in his mini-group.

A boy with crimson hair and a lean, wiry frame stood tall, arms crossed as he smirked at the screen. His aura was flaring subtly, more out of instinct than arrogance.

Name: Min-hyuk Ryu – Rank A Combatant.

Luman’s voice boomed in his head. "Careful with that one. He seems pretty strong."

"Good to know," Aamir said, narrowing his eyes.

Then his gaze shifted to the Galvian representative—a girl with silver hair and eyes like static lightning. She seemed calm, but the mana pressure she radiated was sharp and biting.

"Let me guess," Aamir whispered. "She’s the assassin-type."

"Wrong," Luman replied. "She’s a strategist mage. Electro-mancer with a perfect win record. Won’t hit hard—but she’ll never let you land a hit either."

"How do you know about all this?" Aamir asked, raising an eyebrow at Luman.

Luman chuckled lightly. "Because I’m an AI, remember? Part of your system. I have access to your skills, so I used Appraisal."

Aamir blinked, then sighed. "And here I was thinking you were some kind of all-knowing god."

Luman smirked, his tone smug. "What do you think I am, not all-knowing? I have access to almost all the knowledge of this world."

Aamir rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah... show-off."

John’s voice boomed again. "Now, as you can see, there are three stages in the arena. Since there are 9 matches happening every day, we will run three matches simultaneously, followed by a brief intermission. After that, three more matches will take place, and then we’ll take a longer break of one and a half hours before finishing with the remaining 3 matches."

The crowd’s excitement grew even more as they realized the scale of the event.

John raised his fist, his face shining with enthusiasm. "Only the strongest, smartest, and most adaptable will survive this gauntlet! So get ready..."

The crowd went wild, their energy surging like a wave.

"Because Round One... begins now!!" John declared, his voice carrying the weight of anticipation and excitement.

"I have only one thing to say," John declared. "Let the world witness your strength!"

The stage was set, the air thick with tension, as the tournament officially began. Aamir, Seenu, and the other contestants were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that this battle would shape their destinies. And for Aamir, the weight of the Unbreakable Sword would be his constant reminder that the tournament was more than just a test of strength—it was a fight for survival, and only the strongest would emerge victorious.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fre𝒆webnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺