I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod-Chapter 199: Enter Planet Sacre!

The ship’s metal corridors stretched endlessly, their polished walls reflecting the faint blue glow of spirit-lamps. The hum of engines echoed deep in the belly of the vessel, steady and powerful, like the heartbeat of some slumbering beast. Aamir walked slowly, his boots tapping lightly against the steel floor, eyes roaming with curiosity.

This ship was far bigger inside than it looked from the outside. A labyrinth of rooms, training halls, resting quarters, and chambers for young werewolves to live, learn, and train. He had been in plenty of places—fortresses, guild halls, even dragon nests—but something about this ship’s interior felt different. Almost like it was alive.

He turned down a corridor and pushed open a wide metal door.

Inside, laughter and shouting filled the air. Several werewolf children were gathered, playing—or rather, fighting. Their claws were out, their teeth bared, though not with murderous intent. It was a game, yet rough enough to leave bruises.

Aamir leaned against the doorframe, watching silently.

Among them, one boy was cornered, refusing to join. He shook his head furiously as the other kids shoved and taunted him. But before the boy could be forced into the mock fight, a girl stepped forward.

She was small, no older than ten or eleven, but her stance was firm. She stood between the boy and the others, her arms spread wide like a shield.

"He said no. Then it’s no."

Her voice was steady, not loud, but enough to make the other kids pause.

Aamir’s eyes softened.

For a brief moment, the ship melted away, and he saw himself years ago—on the ground, bruised and beaten. Guards had surrounded him, ready to drag him off like dirt. But then... Riya.

She had stepped forward in the same way, standing between him and danger with nothing but her courage. "If he said no, then it’s no."

Aamir’s chest tightened. He exhaled slowly, then walked in.

"Hai, kids. Any problem here?"

The children froze at the sight of him. Some of them shifted uneasily, their ears twitching. But one boy stepped forward. Taller than the rest, a little older. His eyes gleamed with pride, the type born from too much flattery and too little discipline.

"Hai, uncle," the boy said with a smirk. "It’s none of your business, so stay out of it."

Aamir blinked. Then chuckled. "Uncle, huh? You know... I might’ve let you go with just a scolding. But calling me uncle? That’s insulting."

The boy’s smirk vanished. Without warning, he lunged forward, his leg snapping up in a sharp kick aimed at Aamir’s chest.

But before his foot could connect—Aamir vanished.

The boy stumbled, confused, as Aamir’s voice came from behind him.

"Hm? What are you doing? Trying to hit me? Well, I’m standing here. Not there."

The boy spun around, anger flooding his face. "You dare mock me?!"

Aamir’s eyes hardened, his tone dropping like iron.

"When someone says no, it means no." His words cut through the air like blades, each one pressing into the boy’s ears. "And if you have power, use it to protect others. Not to hurt them. Next time you even think about bullying someone..."

Aamir didn’t finish. Instead, he turned toward the corner of the room where a massive training machine stood.

It was a reinforced device—built to withstand the blows of werewolf warriors. They used it to measure strength. Punches that could level walls, even crack skyscrapers, usually left the machine dented but intact.

Aamir walked up to it, placed his palm lightly against the cold metal... and then struck.

The punch cracked through the air like thunder.

The entire machine shattered, steel splintering and collapsing in a heap of sparks and broken parts. The children gasped, wide-eyed, stepping back in shock.

Aamir dusted his knuckles calmly, turning back to the boy. His voice was cold, yet not cruel.

"I’ll not let you go easily. You’re just a kid. So tell me—who taught you this? Who told you it was fine to bully others?"

The boy hesitated, biting his lip. Finally, he muttered, "Our parents. They told us that commoners are for play. They’re beneath us. We can do anything we want with them."

Aamir’s jaw clenched. His voice rose, sharp and furious.

"Oh no. That same nobility shit again? Listen, kid. Throw it out of your head right now."

The children flinched. None of them dared move.

Aamir stepped forward, pointing at them one by one.

"You and them are the same. All living beings. You’re werewolves. They’re werewolves. What’s the difference? That you’re a bit stronger? That’s it. Strength doesn’t give you the right to step on someone else. It gives you the responsibility to protect them. To help them. That’s your job."

Silence filled the room. The younger ones shifted nervously, their earlier bravado gone.

The boy who had been bullying Aamir earlier swallowed hard, his arrogance melting away. Slowly, he raised his head.

"Hai... what’s your name?"

Aamir blinked. "My name?" He gave a small smile. "Aamir."

The boy nodded slowly, his voice softer now. "I’m Clark."

Aamir placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Clark... you have power. Remember this. If you have strength, use it in better ways. Protect others. Protect your people. Nobility? Status? That’s foolishness. Don’t believe in that. Believe in what’s right."

Clark stared at him, eyes wide. That admiration—pure, innocent—was something Aamir had seen before. He remembered younger guild members looking at him that way, when he was just starting out.

But this was different. This was a child. A boy on the edge of being molded by either arrogance or kindness.

And today, Aamir had made sure the scales tilted toward kindness.

The girl who had first stood up for the bullied boy stepped closer. She bowed slightly, her eyes shining.

"Thank you."

Aamir smiled faintly. "Don’t thank me. You did the right thing before I even stepped in."

The engines of the ship rumbled beneath their feet, as if echoing his words.

For a brief moment, the room was quiet. The kids no longer looked at each other with arrogance, but with unease—and a hint of respect.

Aamir turned to leave, his coat swaying behind him.

Aamir exited the room, his footsteps echoing faintly in the long corridor of the ship. Just as he turned the corner, he saw a man leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. From the sharpness in his eyes, it was clear he had been listening the whole time.

"This is all bullshit," the man spat, pushing himself upright. "You filled their heads with lies. That’s not how the world works. In this cruel world, only those with power survive. That’s the jungle rule. The weak don’t deserve hope—they deserve to be crushed."

Aamir’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t stop walking. When he came closer, he spoke coldly, his voice steady like steel.

"Shut up. I don’t care about your stupid philosophy. And what I said back there—I’ll prove it someday. If I didn’t believe in my words, you wouldn’t even be standing here right now. You would have died back on the vampire planet."

The man flinched, but Aamir didn’t even bother looking at him again. He simply walked past, his cloak swaying behind him, his presence carrying a weight that pressed down on the corridor itself.

The man’s teeth clenched. His hands balled into fists as his eyes burned with hatred, following Aamir’s retreating figure. His voice was low, venomous, but filled with resolve.

"Just you see... I’ll show you the truth of this world. When we reach my planet, I’ll make you swallow those words."

He remained standing in the dim corridor, shadows covering half of his face, his hatred smoldering like an ember waiting for air. For now, he was silent. But within, the man had already made his vow: if Aamir sought to challenge the laws of cruelty that governed the universe, then he would be the one to prove Aamir wrong—even if it meant destroying him.

Aamir walked through the corridors of the ship, his expression unreadable. The earlier confrontation still lingered in the air, but he refused to waste his energy on it. His eyes were fixed on the stars outside the glass panel, endless and silent, as if the universe itself was waiting for what he would do next.

The ship thrummed softly, each vibration a reminder of the journey ahead. Inside the control chamber, Seemus stood tall, his arms folded. The Werewolf King gave Aamir a respectful nod as he entered. Lord Zalmic was seated nearby, deep in thought, his eyes still carrying the weight of the name Aamir had spoken earlier—Zorwath.

"Everything’s set," Seemus said quietly. "But remember, on Sacre, not everyone will welcome you."

Aamir smirked faintly. "They don’t have to welcome me. They just have to listen when the time comes."

The ship suddenly jolted, lights flickering for a moment before stabilizing. Outside, the vast blackness of space gave way to a glowing blue-and-silver sphere slowly rotating in the void.

"Planet Sacre," the navigator announced.

Aamir’s gaze sharpened, determination burning in his eyes. The land of werewolves awaited.