I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod
Chapter 139: Pran-Anveshan

Chapter 139: Pran-Anveshan

The jungle was slowly waking under a soft golden hue, dew still shimmering on leaves like scattered pearls. Aamir walked beside Vyuk, the two of them silently treading across the grassy floor as birds chirped from the canopy above.

Without warning, Vyuk reached up and plucked a single leaf from a branch that hung low. He held it up between his fingers and said, "You know... everything in this world is connected, Aamir. In ways most people never even notice."

Aamir looked at him curiously. "Connected? How?"

Vyuk smiled faintly, twirling the leaf.

"Take the food chain, for example. We survive by feasting on each other—plants feed beasts, beasts feed other beasts, and sometimes... humans feed both. But it’s not just about survival. It’s about life force. Everything that exists... carries it. That Pran is the thread. The core. And the more you understand it, the more you realize—"

Aamir interrupted, "So if I manage to control that life force... if I could fully grasp that thread...?"

Vyuk completed his thought with a calm, knowing tone, "Then you can become more than a man. Someone who walks between everything. You become a part of the world itself—a step closer to nature’s rhythm. You’ll sense storms before clouds gather, feel lies before words are spoken. You’ll understand the beat of life itself—before it even shows. A being who no longer takes from the world... but walks within it."

A moment of silence passed between them before Vyuk turned, his voice now steady with purpose.

"From today, you’ll begin your next step: Pran-Anveshan—Exploration of External Pran."

He pointed at a moss-covered tree as they reached a quiet glade where sunlight poured through the leaves like liquid gold.

"Life speaks in every leaf, every gust of wind. You must learn to listen."

System Goal Unlocked: Pran-Anveshan

Objective: Sense the Pran in the external world—trees, water, wind, beasts, even humans.

Method: Still meditation, awareness, harmony between heart and breath.

Philosophy: You don’t seek Pran. You notice it. It’s always there.

Result: Can detect a dying tree, an approaching beast, or even a hidden assassin.

Aamir smirked. "Alright. Let’s do it."

Vyuk nodded. "Sit under that tree. Let it teach you."

Aamir settled beneath the wide trunk of an ancient tree. He crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and allowed his breath to slow. First, he felt his own Pran—a soft pink orb inside him, still gently swirling from the night before.

This time, instead of focusing inward, he extended that awareness outward—reaching with his senses, not his thoughts.

At first... nothing.

Then slowly—like a fog clearing from glass—he began to see it.

At first, it was just light—soft, pulsing warmth. But as he listened, really listened, he began to hear something else. Not with his ears... but with his awareness. The rustling leaves weren’t just noise—they were whispers. The distant rumble of a waterfall? A breath. Even the stillness of rocks had a subtle hum—like a sleeping heartbeat. The forest was speaking. It always had been. He’d just never been quiet enough to notice.

The tree above him... glowed.

A faint pink hue, nearly identical to his own life force, shimmered deep inside its roots and bark.

"It’s the same," Aamir whispered. "It’s just like mine."

He expanded his senses further, pushing past the tree’s core. That’s when he saw something new.

Lines. Threads. Currents.

Everything in the jungle... was connected.

One tree’s Pran flowed into the next. The leaves passed energy to the wind, and even the beasts wandering in the distance had faint pulses linked to the forest.

"This entire place is one giant living web..." Aamir murmured in awe.

He focused on a small, fluttering bird perched on a branch nearby. Its Pran was lighter—fast, chaotic, but vibrant. The creature turned its head toward Aamir for a second, as if sensing him in return. For a brief moment, their energy harmonized. Aamir felt the bird’s hunger, its alertness, even the ache in its wings. It lasted only seconds—but that moment was real. It was the first time he had shared Pran with another being.

Then he pushed a little further—just to test something.

He tried sensing Vyuk.

And what he felt... shocked him.

A wave of ancient, endless energy pulsed from Vyuk’s body like a thunderstorm trapped in human form. It was deeper. Sharper. Wider than the jungle itself. The sheer magnitude overwhelmed Aamir, and the connection snapped.

His eyes flew open, heart thudding.

Vyuk raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Peeking into someone else’s body without permission? Bad manners."

Aamir blinked. "Oh please. You’re talking like I saw you naked... which you kinda already are, half the time."

Vyuk chuckled. "Fair enough. But try not to get swallowed next time."

Vyuk suddenly stood. His voice changed—firm and sharp.

"Alright, enough sitting. Get up."

Aamir stood, still buzzing from what he felt.

"What’s going on now?"

Vyuk cracked his knuckles. "Show me your defense. If someone attacked you right now, could you protect yourself?"

"Of course. I’ve got techniques."

Vyuk didn’t wait.

He lunged.

Without thinking, Aamir extended his hand. Blue flames erupted, forming a semi-transparent barrier around him.

BOOM!

Vyuk’s punch landed on it with a solid impact. The shield trembled but held.

Vyuk narrowed his eyes. "Sturdy. I like it."

He struck again.

Then again.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

The ground beneath Aamir’s feet cracked. The barrier flickered.

"What the actual hell...?" Aamir grunted, sweat forming on his forehead. "This thing can tank Apex-class beast attacks—what are you?!"

Vyuk stepped back, arms crossed. "Impressive. But don’t get too confident. That barrier is strong... but it has weaknesses."

Vyuk’s voice softened slightly, almost imperceptibly. "The one who taught me... he could form a shield so thin it danced like silk. Yet it deflected blades sharper than thought. I was just a scared boy then. Thought he was a god." He smiled faintly, lost in memory. "Turns out, he was just a man. But a man who truly understood Pran." Then his gaze hardened. "I want you to be better."

He walked slowly around Aamir, analyzing.

"You can enhance it. Layer it. Make it so flexible that it bends instead of breaks."

"Right..." Aamir muttered, absorbing the feedback.

Vyuk suddenly asked, "What kind of fighter are you, anyway? Bare-handed? Blades? Elementalist?"

Aamir adjusted his stance slightly, watching Vyuk with new eyes. It wasn’t just his strength that was impressive—it was his control. He fought like a man who had nothing left to prove, like his power came not from dominance... but understanding. It made Aamir’s usual pride feel childish. "This guy... he’s more than strong," Aamir thought. "He’s what strength should look like."

Aamir responded without hesitation. "I’m trained in swordplay—but honestly, I use my fists more. I’m stronger that way."

Vyuk grinned. "Good. That means you’ll be like me."

He raised his fist and pointed it toward Aamir.

"A fighter who doesn’t need a weapon. But if he ever draws his sword..."

He smirked.

"...it means everything ends."

Aamir chuckled. "Speaking of swords..."

He reached into his dimensional space and pulled out a long, slender blade. Its design was ancient—dark metal etched with glowing crimson lines that pulsed like veins. The moment the sword appeared, the air around it seemed to grow heavier.

Vyuk’s eyes locked onto it instantly. His expression changed.

He stepped forward, slowly, like he was approaching something sacred. Then, without asking, he grabbed the sword from Aamir’s hand and examined it. His grip tightened.

"Where... did you get this?" Vyuk asked, his voice unusually quiet.

Aamir scratched his head. "I found it in my academy’s vaults. Everyone else tried to lift it—but it rejected them. When I touched it... it just accepted me. Like it had been waiting."

Vyuk’s jaw clenched slightly. "Do you know who this belonged to?"

"No clue," Aamir said honestly. "You recognize it?"

Vyuk looked at the blade as if staring into a ghost. "It was Zorwath’s. This... this was his sword."

Aamir’s eyes widened. "Wait... what?! This sword belonged to him? The guy who wants to destroy everything?"

Vyuk nodded grimly. "Yes. But the sword didn’t choose him. It accepted him once. Then it slept. For centuries. Until now."

"Then why me?" Aamir asked, confused.

"Because it saw something in you," Vyuk said. "Something stronger. Something better. Maybe... a chance to correct what Zorwath broke."

Aamir looked at the blade, now back in his hand. It no longer felt heavy. It felt right.

"That’s not all," Aamir said. He reached into his storage again and pulled out his black armor—engraved with the same crimson etchings, pulsing in sync with the sword.

Vyuk’s jaw dropped. "Kid... are you collecting all his stuff?"

Aamir shrugged. "Hey, it’s not like I planned it. It just... happened. The armor responded to me just like the sword."

Vyuk crossed his arms, his tone gruff but eyes curious. "Well, it’s yours now. Don’t let it control you."

But deep in his thoughts, Vyuk wondered:

"Why did these items choose him? There’s something... deeper. That energy inside him—it’s not just Pran. It’s something older. Something... that remembers."