I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod-Chapter 211: The Last Stand of Rajasvi

The battlefield of Base Three’s outer court came into sight.

Flames licked the sky. Screams echoed. Blood painted the dirt red. Dozens of resistance soldiers lay sprawled, some cut down, others ripped apart. Three towering figures stood at the heart of the carnage—Zorwath’s generals. Each cloaked in black steel armor, blades glinting with fresh blood.

Two of them already lay dead, their broken bodies crumpled in the dirt. But the third still stood tall, calm and suffocating with murderous intent—Parkh, Zorwath’s strongest general. His crimson-tipped daggers dripped like venom, and his aura pressed down on the battlefield like a storm.

And before him—Aamir’s mother.

She stood surrounded by blood, one hand clutching her stomach where a deep wound spilled crimson across her robes. Her body trembled, her face pale, yet her eyes still burned with fire. She had slain two generals with her own hands, but the cost was written in every ragged breath she took.

The barricade of soldiers around her had collapsed, their defense shattered. The enemy loomed closer.

Her lips moved faintly, trembling but unyielding.

"...Aamir."

An hour ago...

The market of Base Three bustled with noise just moments ago—merchants calling, children laughing, and guards patrolling the busy street. Rajasvi stood near a stall, speaking warmly with an old fruit-seller as she selected apples for the evening meal.

But then—her chest tightened.

Her instincts, honed from years long before she was just "Aamir’s mother," screamed. Her hand froze mid-reach. Slowly, her head tilted upward.

There—high above the sky—three dark silhouettes floated, cloaked in killing intent.

One of them, a tall and sharp-eyed man, spoke first, his tone cold and unshakable.

"Lord Parkh... there she is. The target."

The woman beside him smirked, her lips curling with disdain. "That’s her? Just an old lady? This will be easy."

But the man in the center—the one with crimson-tipped daggers glinting on his belt—did not move. His voice rolled like thunder, low and precise.

"If I were you... I wouldn’t take her so lightly. Look closer. Even now... she’s staring directly at us. She knows we’re here."

Rajasvi’s eyes narrowed, unblinking. She could sense them as clearly as she could feel her own heartbeat.

The female general scoffed. "Doesn’t matter." And with a blur of motion, she shot downward like a meteor, her fist cocked back.

The ground cracked as she struck—

But the impact never came.

Her knuckles stopped dead, gripped tightly by a weathered but unshaking hand.

Rajasvi held her, eyes calm but burning with steel. Her lips curled into a faint smile.

"It’s been years... since I last fought."

The lady general’s eyes widened. She tried to pull back, but Rajasvi’s grip tightened, unrelenting as iron.

Above, Parkh’s voice was like a slow knife.

"I told you... she won’t be that easy."

He descended smoothly, the third general following. Both landed beside their struggling comrade, their presence turning the air heavy, oppressive.

Rajasvi released the female general’s hand, stepping back, her gaze steady.

"So you’re the leader... Parkh. Why are you here?"

Parkh’s eyes glowed faint crimson as he rested a hand on his daggers.

"For you. You are the mother of Aamir. And when you bleed, your son will come running. Our lord sensed his return to Earth. If we hurt you... he will come."

Rajasvi’s heart leapt at those words. "Aamir... returned? He’s alive?"

Her lips trembled, but she steadied herself, whispering, "Thank the gods..."

Parkh’s tone sharpened. "Don’t celebrate yet. He won’t be alive for long."

Rajasvi’s expression hardened, her aura beginning to stir. "You will not touch him. Because none of you will leave here alive."

In a blur, she sprinted forward. Her fist slammed into the female general’s ribs with a crack, sending her skidding back across the market stones. Blood spilled from the woman’s lips as she collapsed to one knee, gasping.

Rajasvi exhaled. "Not that strong after all."

But Parkh raised his hand. "Now. Attack."

The brute-like general roared, charging in. His massive fist swung down like a hammer. Rajasvi crossed her arms in defense—

CRACK!

Bone creaked in her forearm, pain shooting through her body. She gritted her teeth. "Strong... so you’re the brute."

Before she could recover, Parkh vanished. Her eyes widened. He reappeared in front of her, daggers glowing faint red.

The next instant—his strike landed.

THUD!

His palm smashed into her stomach. Blood burst from her lips as her body skidded back, smashing into a wall.

Rajasvi coughed violently, clutching her abdomen. She could feel her strength slipping. "Tch... I can’t fight them one by one..."

Her eyes sharpened. Her hand pressed against her forehead.

"Then... I’ll have to finish this in one move."

From her skin, a mark ignited—five glowing clover-leaves burned into her forehead, radiating golden-green light.

The generals froze. Even Parkh’s calm expression shifted slightly.

"That aura..."

Rajasvi’s body glowed as her energy surged. Her wounds hissed as blood slowed, her veins lit like molten rivers. She lowered her stance, her voice cold.

"This... is my last trump card. And I’ll use it to bury you all."

She dashed forward, faster than the eye could follow. Her fist connected with the brute general’s jaw—

CRACK!

His skull snapped sideways, body flung across the square like a ragdoll. He slammed into a building, the wall caving inward. Blood sprayed as his body went limp.

The female general tried to intercept, blades flashing—

But Rajasvi twisted mid-air, her foot glowing with clover-light. She spun and kicked her directly in the chest.

BOOOOM!

The woman spat blood as her ribs shattered, her body flying backward into the market square, crashing into rubble. Her aura flickered and died.

Two generals. Dead.

Rajasvi staggered, her breath ragged, blood dripping down her chin. She swayed slightly, clutching her side.

Parkh stood silently. His lips curved into a small, dark smile.

"Impressive. Even wounded... you killed them both."

Rajasvi straightened, her eyes blazing despite her shaking body. "You’re next."

Parkh unsheathed his crimson daggers. His aura burst outward, black and red, making the ground quake.

"No... old woman. You’ve already reached your limit. And now... I’ll finish it."

The two locked eyes, the market crumbling around them—

And the battle for Aamir’s mother’s life began.

Rajasvi’s aura flared, the five-leaf clover mark burning bright on her forehead. Parkh only smiled faintly, spinning his twin crimson daggers once before letting them vanish back into their sheaths.

"No blades. You deserve to die by my hands."

Rajasvi steadied her stance, blood dripping from her lip. "Then come, coward."

In the next instant, they collided.

BOOOM!

Their fists met, the shockwave blasting apart the market square, toppling stalls and sending fire scattering into the air. Sparks danced between their knuckles as their auras clashed.

Parkh’s knee shot upward—fast as a spear. Rajasvi twisted, blocking with her forearm. Pain shot through the bone, but she countered, slamming her elbow toward his temple.

He ducked. His fist whipped across her jaw—

CRACK!

Her head snapped sideways, blood spitting from her mouth. But before he could follow through, she caught his wrist, yanking him forward. Her knee crashed into his ribs with crushing force.

Parkh grunted, his body jerking back. For the first time, his expression shifted.

Rajasvi didn’t stop. She stepped in, her fists blurring like a storm. Punches rained down on him—torso, jaw, gut, ribs. Each strike glowed with the energy of her five-leaf seal, her blows carving cracks into the stone beneath their feet.

Parkh blocked some, deflected others, but her ferocity drove him backward.

Finally—her fist connected cleanly.

SMASH!

His head whipped back, blood flying. His body staggered into the remains of a stone wall, cracking it.

Rajasvi’s chest heaved, her bloodied lips curling. "Not so strong without your daggers, are you?"

But Parkh only smirked, wiping blood from his chin. "I was testing you. Now... I’ll stop holding back."

He blurred.

Before she could react, his elbow slammed into her sternum. Her breath exploded from her lungs. She stumbled—then his knee drove into her abdomen.

CRACK!

Her body doubled over. Parkh’s hand lashed out, seizing her by the hair, yanking her upward. His fist pummeled into her ribs once—twice—each strike digging deeper.

Rajasvi’s vision blurred, her body screaming in pain. But her instincts didn’t falter.

She drove her head forward—SMASH!—headbutting him straight across the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted. Parkh released her, hissing.

Rajasvi staggered back, panting, but managed a bitter laugh. "Still not enough to finish me."

Her aura flickered again, five-leaf seal blazing one final time. She surged forward with a roar, her fist coated in clover-light, and smashed it into Parkh’s chest.

BOOOM!

The ground cratered beneath them. Parkh skidded back several meters, clutching his chest, coughing blood.

But as the light dimmed from her mark, her knees buckled. Her strength was spent.

Parkh straightened slowly, his grin cruel despite the blood dripping down his face. "You are strong. Stronger than most I’ve fought. But you’ve reached your limit."

Rajasvi tried to lift her fists again—but her body betrayed her, her arms trembling, blood soaking through her robes.

Parkh stepped forward, calm, composed. He reached down, grabbed her by the throat, and hoisted her into the air.

Her feet dangled above the ground, her breath choked.

The bodies of the two dead generals lay in the dirt beside them.

And Parkh’s crimson eyes glowed faintly as he tightened his grip, looming over her broken form.

Meanwhile, Aamir was sprinting across the war-torn plains, his fury consuming him.

The blue flames that wreathed his body grew hotter, brighter, until they roared like a living inferno. Each step scorched the earth, carving blackened craters into the soil. Trees that lined his path ignited as he passed. Even the air trembled, rippling with heat.

He didn’t care.

His crimson eyes burned with only one thought. "Please... let me reach her in time."

But fate had already struck.

The moment he burst into the shattered outer court of Base Three, the scene froze his blood.

Flames licked the sky. Ash rained down like black snow. And there—in the center of the battlefield—stood a tall, broad-shouldered man. His grip was firm around a frail woman’s throat.

Rajasvi. His mother.

Her bloodied robes fluttered weakly in the wind, her silver hair matted with sweat and blood. Her pale lips trembled, and her half-closed eyes shifted—locking on him.

For a heartbeat, the world stilled.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile.

And her final breath carried a single word, fragile and soft:

"...Aamir."

CRACK!

Parkh’s fingers tightened. Her neck snapped like dry wood.

Her body went limp.

Aamir’s eyes widened in disbelief. The roar of fire in his ears went silent. His mind blanked—empty, numb, as though the world itself had been erased.

The strongest woman he knew. His guide. His mother.

Gone.

Her body slid from Parkh’s grasp, falling lifelessly onto the scorched ground with a dull thud.

Dust swirled. Blood pooled. The silence was deafening.

Parkh looked down at her corpse, then up at Aamir. A slow, cruel smile stretched across his face.

"So this is the great Aamir’s mother..." His voice dripped with mockery. "She begged. She struggled. But in the end—she broke, like everyone else."

He planted his boot on her body, pressing down slightly, as though claiming his kill.

Aamir didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

But the flames around him began to tremble, surging higher, devouring the battlefield.

His clenched fists shook violently, knuckles white, as the veins in his arms bulged and glowed.

His lips parted, his voice low and hollow—like death itself speaking.

"...You killed her."

The air cracked. The ground quaked beneath his feet. His aura pulsed like a storm tearing through the earth.

For the first time in his life, Aamir wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t calm. He wasn’t controlled.

He was wrath.

Parkh’s grin only widened. "Yes. And next... I’ll kill you too."