I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod-Chapter 133: A Tample In The Mist

The forest was unusually quiet.

No wind.

No growls.

No rustling leaves.

Just the steady rhythm of Aamir’s boots sinking softly into moss.

Spark padded beside him, the little beast’s tail flicking side to side. His glowing scales shimmered faintly, pulsing with each breath. He was alert—ears twitching, nostrils sniffing the damp air.

Aamir glanced around, unease creeping in.

"This place feels different today."

His voice was low, more to himself than Spark. The air felt heavier. Almost like the forest was holding its breath.

Spark chirped in quiet agreement.

Aamir slowed his pace, letting his senses guide him. It wasn’t just the quiet. It was the kind of quiet that felt placed, like something had asked the wind and the animals to hush.

"Every time I get used to this dungeon, it throws something new at me," he muttered under his breath.

He glanced at the trees—they looked the same as always, tall and ancient—but somehow they felt like they were watching him.

"You feel it too, huh?" he asked Spark.

The little beast didn’t reply. He just stayed close to Aamir’s leg, his glowing tail twitching.

Aamir tightened the straps on his wrist bracers.

"Alright... let’s find out what’s got the forest holding its breath."

Aamir thought back to the last time the forest was this quiet. It had been right before a rogue thunderbeast had charged him from the underbrush.

But this time, it wasn’t fear in the air—it was something deeper. Like reverence.

They crossed a narrow stone bridge, its surface slick with moss. Vines hung from above like a curtain of green, brushing lightly against Aamir’s shoulders. He pushed them aside.

Spark paused on the other side, his little claws tapping the stone anxiously.

Aamir followed—and then stopped in his tracks.

His breath caught.

Before him stood an ancient temple, half-eaten by the jungle. Towering stone walls leaned under the weight of vines and roots. Cracks ran through the archway. Chipped statues flanked the entrance, one missing a head, the other with its arm stretched upward—like it once held something.

The wide stone doors were ajar, just enough to slip through.

The air around the temple felt heavier.

Not oppressive—but sacred.

Aamir stepped closer and noticed strange markings burned into the outer stone—barely visible beneath the moss. They weren’t letters, but symbols. Spirals. Lines. Geometric curves.

He didn’t recognize any of them.

"Looks like some kind of language..." he murmured, tracing one with his finger.

The stone was cold—but as he touched it, a faint warmth pulsed beneath.

He jerked his hand back.

Spark hissed.

Aamir looked at the cracked statues flanking the gate. One’s face had been completely destroyed, but the other still wore a grim expression—eyes narrowed, mouth agape like it had been shouting when it turned to stone.

"Who were you yelling at?" Aamir whispered.

He turned his eyes back to the doors. They were still slightly open, almost inviting.

"Places like this usually mean one of two things," Aamir muttered, gripping his dagger.

"Answers... or trouble."

Sometimes both.

"What is this doing out here...?"

He stepped forward, fingers brushing against the weathered stone. The carvings were deep—old, but not ruined.

"Did someone build this before the dungeon was born?"

Spark whined softly behind him.

Aamir looked down and grinned.

"What’s wrong, boy? Don’t like spooky ruins?"

But Spark didn’t chirp this time. He just stared at the open entrance, glowing eyes wide.

Aamir tilted his head, then looked back at the doors.

They beckoned him.

With one hand on the hilt of his dagger, Aamir slipped inside. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel-com

Golden light filtered from cracks above. Dust floated lazily, and the air smelled of age—of stone and stories.

The main chamber was massive.

Murals covered the walls—layered history carved into every inch. Most were faded, some broken. But a few... a few looked untouched by time.

Some murals were chaotic—entire scenes of war etched in frantic lines. Others showed harmony: beings of light forming circles, hands extended toward beast-like creatures that seemed to kneel before them.

One wall in particular caught his eye.

It showed two figures: One draped in shadows, horned, standing on a pile of bones. The other stood tall, shrouded in radiant fire, their arm stretched toward the sky. Around them were twelve floating beings, like the ones he saw earlier.

Each floating figure had a unique symbol in front of them. Crescent. Flame. Chain. Spiral. A sun with a crack in it.

"Are they... gods? Guardians?"

He wasn’t sure.

Spark sniffed the wall nervously, then pulled back as if repelled.

Aamir stared at a specific figure in the mural—the man at the center of it all, standing alone beneath the gods and monsters.

He looked like... himself.

Not in face or form, but in posture. The stubbornness. The way he stood like he had nothing but his fists and still refused to back down.

"Who are you...?"

Aamir stepped back and looked around the temple.

The carvings didn’t feel like history.

They felt like warnings.

Aamir stepped further inside, Spark creeping along behind him.

He squinted at a nearby panel.

It showed a man standing alone—his form surrounded by clawed monsters. The beasts were grotesque: scaled, winged, horned, some with too many eyes or none at all.

But the man stood tall.

He didn’t look afraid.

Around him floated beings of light—they had no legs, only ethereal torsos wrapped in energy. Glowing rings hovered around their bodies, covered in ancient runes.

One of them had a crescent moon etched on its forehead.

"They’re not just spirits," Aamir murmured. "They feel... divine."

The way they were carved, their placement... they weren’t fighting.

They were watching. Judging.

"Was this guy being tested?"

He stepped closer, running his fingers along the cold wall. The carvings thrummed softly beneath his touch, like they were alive—or remembering.

Suddenly—

Spark hissed.

Aamir froze.

Footsteps.

Slow. Heavy.

Echoing through the temple corridor behind him.

The footsteps echoed again.

Closer this time.

Spark flattened himself to the floor, trembling. Aamir could feel the tremor of fear through the soles of his boots.

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger, but he didn’t draw it.

Not yet.

"Whatever’s coming... it’s not just a beast," he whispered.

He considered running—but something about the air told him that wouldn’t help.

The breathing grew louder.

Not panting. Calm. Measured. Like the thing walking in didn’t need to rush.

A predator. One that never had to chase.

"Stay low," Aamir whispered to Spark.

The little beast blinked, glowing faintly, but obeyed.

Aamir crouched lower behind the pillar, heart hammering in his chest.

Then the air shifted. The glow from the murals seemed to dim, like something ancient was turning its head to watch.

Aamir’s hand immediately went to his dagger.

His eyes darted around.

"Could be a beast... Let’s not pick a fight we can’t win," he whispered, ducking behind a broken pillar.

He pulled Spark close, gently placing a hand over the small creature’s snout.

The footsteps stopped.

The sound of breathing filled the chamber.

Aamir peered around the pillar.

A man had entered.

Tall. Shirtless. His long black hair flowed loosely over muscular shoulders. His dark trousers were torn at the knees, and his bare feet made no sound now that he stood still. His entire body radiated controlled strength, like a beast that didn’t need to roar to be feared.

The man’s eyes scanned the temple slowly.

His gaze passed over Aamir’s hiding spot—but didn’t stop.

He didn’t notice me... right?

Or did he just not care?

Then—he turned his back and began walking deeper into the hall, as if bored.

Aamir released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

"He didn’t see us..."

Then—

A hand seized his shoulder.

Aamir’s heart nearly stopped.

"Damn it—he’s too fast. I didn’t even see it coming."

Before he could even blink, he was ripped from behind the pillar and slammed into the stone floor.

"UGHH—!"

Pain flared across his back.

The impact knocked the air from his lungs.

His ears rang.

He rolled onto his side, coughing hard—his vision swimming with stars. The entire room felt like it was tilting.

He’d trained with beasts. He’d faced apex predators. He’d even survived a Crimson Titan overload.

But this was different.

It wasn’t power.

It was precision. A man who knew exactly how hard to hit to ruin your balance, your breath, and your will—all at once.

Blood dripped from his temple. His dagger lay feet away, useless.

He looked up again at the man who’d thrown him like a sack of grain.

Not a scratch on him.

Not even a sigh of effort.

Aamir’s system screamed in his mind—but there was nothing left to do.

He was prey.

And this man was the hunter.

His vision blinked red.

[WARNING: HIGH-THREAT ENTITY DETECTED]

[ESCAPE NOT POSSIBLE]

[DEFENSE BREACHED]

Spark screeched in panic but didn’t move. Even he knew...

This man wasn’t someone you challenged.

Aamir groaned and looked up, face twisted in pain.

The man stood over him, eyes unreadable.

No hate. No anger. No emotion.

Just silence.

Aamir’s instincts screamed for him to run, fight, or surrender—but he couldn’t move.

He was already too late.

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