I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod
Chapter 147: The Gate and the Grief

Chapter 147: The Gate and the Grief

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The sound echoed—deep, slow, and deliberate. It wasn’t just footsteps. It was warning.

Aamir stood still, eyes fixed ahead. In front of him loomed a massive stone gate, carved with mysterious symbols from an ancient language. There was no door—just an open archway, but nothing passed through it. The jungle stretched endlessly beyond, yet something about it felt... sealed.

Far behind him, Master Vyuk stood silently, arms crossed. His voice came sharp and clear despite the distance:

"Aamir. That gate... is the exit. Defeat the beast, and it shall open."

Aamir nodded, calm and determined. "Then I’ll defeat it."

But just then—

A wave of pressure washed over him like a collapsing ocean.

His breath hitched.

"What... the hell is this...?" he muttered, shivers racing up his spine. His entire body felt heavy—like the dungeon itself had turned against him.

Goosebumps.

Real ones.

It had been five years since he’d felt fear like this. Not even the worst dungeon trials had caused it.

And then—

THUD.

From the mist of the trees... something emerged.

It was black. Humanoid. Walking on two legs, but crooked—unnatural. Its arms were long, clawed, nearly brushing the ground. Its nails were jagged and deadly.

Its face... twisted.

Its mouth... gaping.

And from it, tears flowed. Constant. Endless.

Aamir narrowed his eyes and activated Appraisal. His system screen flared crimson.

[System Appraisal – Active]

Name:Griefhoul Lurkur

Level:10

Trait:Emits psychic energy causing hallucinations and emotional distortion.

Effect:Traps the target in their deepest guilt and nightmares. Prolonged exposure leads to madness.

"Level 10...?" Aamir blinked. "Master said it was Level 9. It evolved..."

The creature stood still. Motionless. But its aura screamed rage and sorrow.

Aamir stared it down.

"You look strong... but I don’t care how powerful you are. I’m leaving this place—because out there, people are waiting for me. People who believe in me."

His voice cracked.

A whisper.

"...I hope so."

Suddenly—

The beast disappeared.

And in its place—Riya.

Her body drenched in blood. Eyes hollow.

"Aamir... I thought you would come for me. But you didn’t."

"No. That’s not true... I—"

"Liar."

The voice came from behind. He turned—his mother.

"You said you’d protect me... but you never did."

Then—Seenu and Raj.

"We called you brother. You let us die."

Kunal appeared next.

"You were my first friend, Aamir. You left me. Alone."

And then...

All of them together:

"You let us die...

You let us die...

You killed us..."

Aamir fell to his knees, grabbing his head.

"NO! STOP! PLEASE—"

Then—

A spark.

A voice.

Inside his mind.

"Aamir. Get a hold of yourself."

He froze.

That voice...

"L-Luman...?"

It had been years.

"Yes. I’m back. Your mental defenses are being warped by the beast’s field. Locate the beast with your Pran-sense. Its real body is nearby. You must strike it before it warps your mind completely."

Aamir’s eyes widened. "Luman... where have you been? I thought I lost you."

"Later. Focus. Move now."

Aamir closed his eyes. He forced his mind to clear.

Pran energy surged inside him. His senses sharpened.

And then—there.

A flicker to his left. A disturbance in the fog.

"Found you."

He dashed forward, blade drawn.

In one smooth arc—he swung.

FWOOOSH!

The illusions shattered. The mist burned away.

And there—revealed in its true form—stood the Griefhoul Lurkur, hissing as black steam rose from its skin.

Aamir stood firm, eyes burning.

"You almost had me. If my friend hadn’t helped me... I’d be lost."

The beast tilted its head. Its maw opened wide... like it was laughing.

And then—

A voice crawled from its throat like rusted chains.

"You... are... like... us... Why... fight... me...?"

Aamir flinched.

"You... can talk?"

"I don’t waste words... on insects... But you... you’re different. Become my servant. You understand grief... despair... you belong with us."

Aamir’s knuckles tightened around his blade.

"Enough of this shit."

His voice cracked like thunder.

"I hate people who think they’re superior. Who look down on others. I’ve crawled through hell for five years. I’ve earned every scar—every drop of power."

His eyes glowed crimson.

"I’m not yours. I’m no one’s servant."

"I am Aamir Singh. And you—are just another obstacle."

The Griefhoul Lurkur let out a monstrous screech.

Aamir raised his sword.

The Griefhoul Lurkur’s distorted voice echoed through the clearing—

"You seem to misunderstand...

I’m not asking you.

I’m giving you an order."

Aamir’s eye twitched. His lips curled into a grin of pure defiance.

"Then you didn’t hear what I said..."

He vanished.

CRACK—!

Aamir reappeared mid-air, his leg drawn back—then launched a devastating kick into the beast’s chest.

"I’m. Not. Interested!"

BOOOOOOM!

The impact sounded like thunder. The Griefhoul Lurkur flew backward like a cannonball, smashing through trees and colliding into a jagged wall of stone. The rocks exploded into dust, fragments flying across the clearing.

Aamir landed smoothly, his cloak swaying behind him.

The beast crawled from the rubble. Its body cracked and hissing.

It stared at Aamir with glowing, hollow eyes.

"You’re strong..."

Then—it vanished.

SWOOSH!

Aamir’s instincts screamed. He turned just in time to block a flurry of slashes with his sword—Ashblade.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The creature’s claws scraped against the blade like metal grinding metal—fast, furious, and sharp enough to slice steel.

Aamir gritted his teeth. "Not bad."

He twisted his blade, golden-red energy surging through it.

"Let’s see you block this—Pran Crescent Slash!"

He swung.

A golden arc of energy shot toward the beast like a curved blade of light, tearing through the air with deadly speed.

But the Lurkur—deflected it with one spin of its claws, and came rushing in again.

"I see now..." it growled.

"You’re not just strength. You’re potential. Raw... beautiful... chaos."

Aamir’s eyes narrowed. He knew this wasn’t a beast that could be defeated with swordplay alone.

He took a deep breath—then did something unexpected.

He threw his sword aside.

THUD.

Ashblade embedded into the earth behind him.

The system shimmered before his eyes.

[Title Change Activated]

Current Title: Martial Combatant

All Physical Stats Boosted: +35%

Pran and Reflex Amplification: Active

Warning: Cannot switch title for the next 10 minutes.

His muscles tensed. Veins pulsed. Pran flooded every corner of his body.

He felt faster.

Sharper.

Limitless.

The beast lunged again.

But this time—Aamir moved differently.

He dodged the first slash with a clean sidestep, slammed his elbow into the beast’s face, spun behind it, and delivered a spinning back kick that sent it stumbling.

Then—he chased it.

One step—two—three—his fists became a blur.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Every strike hit like a warhammer.

The Lurkur swung wildly to counter—but Aamir ducked low, swept its legs out, and punched upward into its gut, lifting the massive beast a few feet off the ground.

As the beast fell back—Aamir grabbed its wrist mid-air, twisted it, and threw it over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

The forest shook.

Dust clouded the battlefield.

Aamir stood over the fallen beast, his breath calm. Controlled.

"You wanted me to kneel?"

"Then stay down."

The Griefhoul twitched... and let out a low laugh.

"Good... very good..."

"Now... I’ll stop holding back."

The aura around the beast began to change.

Its skin darkened. The ground beneath it cracked. Its tears turned crimson, dripping like blood.

Aamir took a step back, his fists clenched tight.

"So you weren’t serious yet..."

He smirked, eyes glowing.

"Good. Because neither was I."

The air trembled.

The Griefhoul Lurkur’s aura surged like a storm of shadows, twisting the wind into unnatural spirals. Its claws elongated, and its body pulsed with malevolent energy.

But Aamir didn’t flinch.

Instead, he took a deep breath—and whispered under his breath:

"Titan Pulse... First Form."

[Crimson Titan Form: First Gate – ACTIVATED]

– Physical Attributes Amplified by 320%

– Crimson Energy Veins Engaged

– Internal Limit Breaker: UNLOCKED

– Duration: 30 minutes

– Energy Drain: High

BOOM—!

A shockwave exploded outward from Aamir’s body, shaking the ground beneath him.

Crimson light erupted through his skin like lightning in human form. Glowing veins of molten red streaked across his arms, chest, and face, pulsating with raw power. His eyes turned deeper—no longer just crimson, but a blazing furnace of will and wrath.

His muscles expanded—not grotesquely, but refined, like steel forged a thousand times over.

Even Vyuk, watching from a distance, narrowed his eyes.

"He’s pushing it... but if he’s using Titan Form now, that means he knows this isn’t a warm-up anymore."

The Griefhoul snarled, reacting to the surge in energy.

"What is this...?"

Aamir stepped forward—every step cracking the ground.

"This?" Aamir said calmly. "This is the weight I’ve trained to carry."

He launched forward, vanishing mid-dash—leaving behind only a red streak in the air.

The beast barely had time to react before—

CRACK!!

Aamir’s fist collided with its gut, sending it soaring into the sky.

Before the Lurkur could even descend, Aamir was already above it.

"Let’s see how you like gravity."

He spun mid-air and hammer-kicked the beast back down, smashing it into the earth like a meteor.

KA-THOOM!

A crater exploded in the ground. Dust and rock flew in every direction.

But Aamir wasn’t done.

He descended like a thunderbolt, landed on the crater’s edge, and rushed in—blitzing the beast with a flurry of enhanced martial strikes:

LEFT. RIGHT. SPINNING KNEE. SHOULDER SLAM. ELBOW STRIKE.

Each blow shook the dungeon’s forest like thunderclaps.

The Griefhoul screamed, swiping in desperation, but Aamir weaved through every attack, his Crimson Titan Form making him too fast, too strong, and too precise.

"You made a mistake challenging me here."

"This dungeon didn’t break me. It made me."

Finally, Aamir spun, raised his hand high, and channeled energy into his palm—his crimson veins glowing brighter.

"Titan Pulse: Devastation Fang!"

He brought the enhanced palm strike down onto the beast’s chest like a hammer of the gods.

BOOOOOOOM!

A massive explosion of red energy engulfed the battlefield.

When the light faded, the Griefhoul was half-buried in rubble, twitching, its shadowy form dimming.

Aamir stood above it, chest rising and falling, crimson glow still pulsing from his body.

"You still want me to kneel?" he asked, his voice cold.

The beast growled, slower now... but a strange grin stretched across its monstrous face.

"Good... yes... this is it... this is the power..."

"But you... you still don’t know what you’re holding back..."

Aamir narrowed his eyes.

"Then I’ll break through that too."