I Got My System Late, But I'll Become Beastgod-Chapter 112: Riya’s Resolve

The battlefield was a canvas of chaos.

While Aamir’s fists clashed against the old Elite warrior, somewhere amidst the flames and smoke, Riya stood amidst a circle of fallen Calonian and Navarran soldiers, her breath ragged, wand glowing faintly with residual energy.

Her uniform was torn, cheeks smudged with dirt, but her eyes still burned with defiance.

A gust of wind carried a ripple of silence across her section of the battlefield. Then—

"So, you’re a mage too," a calm yet chilling voice echoed.

Riya turned.

A woman walked toward her with graceful steps. She was clad in a sleek black battle suit, a red Calonian crest stitched on her chest. Her eyes glowed with unnatural blue, and flames danced across her fingers while water spiraled gently around her ankles — no wand, no incantation.

The woman stopped ten meters away, tilted her head. "Let’s find out how strong your magic really is."

Riya’s fingers tightened around her wand. Her voice didn’t waver.

"I may not be as skilled as you... but I’ll try my best to defeat you."

She raised her wand, murmuring the chant. Water surged from the ground, twisting upward into the shape of a massive serpent. It let out a roar and lunged at the woman.

The woman didn’t move.

She simply lifted her hand, and with a flick of her wrist, a spiral of fire and water merged together—like a coiled storm—and shot forward.

The serpent shattered mid-air, splashing into harmless mist.

"Not bad," the woman said, brushing her long hair aside. "But you’re weak."

Riya gritted her teeth. Her heart thundered, but she refused to back down.

"I’m not weak." Her wand pointed forward, power building at the tip.

"Flame Art: Fire Dragon’s Wrath!"

The air distorted from the heat.

A colossal dragon, wreathed in crimson fire, erupted from her wand. It snarled, coiling upward, then shot toward the Elite with a scream that shook the ground.

The woman raised her brow, as if amused.

She whispered something—no chant, no wand—and responded with her own spell.

Her fire dragon rose from her hands, twice the size, denser, hotter, and more alive.

The two dragons clashed.

For a moment, it seemed like Riya’s would hold.

But then... hers began to dissolve.

The Elite’s dragon devoured it whole—then surged forward, roaring, unstoppable.

"No—!"

Riya barely had time to shield herself.

The flames crashed into her, engulfing her in searing heat and blinding light. Aamir, mid-fight, turned his head.

"Riya!"

He dashed forward, but the firestorm stood like a wall between them.

Within the flames...

Riya felt nothing but heat.

Then—

Silence.

The pain faded.

The world around her melted into white.

She floated, suspended in an endless, glowing void.

"Where... am I?"

Then she heard it.

A voice — ancient, divine, comforting.

"Riya."

She turned. Five figures stood before her, shrouded in light.

They weren’t human. Their presence was overwhelming yet serene.

One stepped forward — a woman cloaked in dancing flames.

Her voice was calm, pure, filled with divinity. "You are not meant to die here, child. You have potential. You have heart. You have resolve."

Another voice followed, flowing like water over stones.

"We are the Five Elemental Deities."

One by one, they stepped forward.

"I, Goddess of Fire, bless you with the divine flames of rebirth."

"I, Goddess of Water, grant you the tide’s grace and fury."

"I, God of Air, bestow upon you the speed and sharpness of the storm."

"I, God of Earth, bless you with the will of nature, and power over the land beneath your feet."

The final figure stepped forward — taller than the rest, cloaked in glowing white.

"I am not an Elemental Deity. I am the Origin. The God of Magic, Ruler of Mana, Creator of all Spells."

His voice was layered with countless echoes.

"I grant you the gift of infinite mana. But heed this — power corrupts. Use it only with wisdom and compassion."

They all raised their hands. A cascade of divine energy washed over her.

"Now go."

Light consumed everything.

Riya’s eyes opened.

Flames flickered around her, but they no longer burned.

Aamir’s face appeared beside her, eyes wide, breathing heavy.

"Thank God... Riya! You’re okay!"

She sat up and grabbed his sleeve.

"Yeah... I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll handle her now. You go finish your fight."

From behind, the old man lunged at Aamir again.

Aamir turned just in time, catching his fist. The old man grinned.

"You’ve got your fight, boy. Stay focused."

Aamir nodded and turned back.

Riya stood. Her hair danced as if in wind, her body glowing faintly with the mana of five elements.

The Elite woman narrowed her eyes.

"You’re still alive? Impossible."

"Not only alive," Riya said. "I’ve been reborn."

She raised her hand — not her wand. She didn’t need it anymore.

The earth trembled.

Thick vines, massive and thorned, erupted from the ground, spiraling around her.

With a flick of her fingers, the vines lunged toward the Elite woman like striking snakes.

"Tch!"

The woman summoned a wall of water, trying to block them—but the vines tore through it like paper.

One wrapped around her arm. Another around her leg.

"What... How are you controlling nature?!" she shouted.

"Because I’ve been blessed," Riya answered. "By the Earth, the Wind, the Flame, the Waters—and by Magic itself."

The vines slammed the Elite into the ground.

Before she could move, Riya stepped forward.

She raised her hand to the sky.

Air magic shimmered at her fingertips.

"Tempest Fang."

Blades of air slashed out — one, then two, then dozens.

They started slow.

The woman dodged the first few.

But they became faster.

Sharper.

More precise.

A hurricane of invisible razors surrounded the Elite.

She screamed.

Then silence.

Nothing remained.

Only dust, wind, and Riya—standing tall.

She lowered her hand.

Her breathing was heavy. Her magic still surged, but her mind was calm.

She turned toward the battlefield.

"I’m not weak," she whispered. "I told you."

Aamir, locked in combat with the seasoned old man of the Calonian elite, briefly glanced toward the battlefield where Riya stood, her magic flaring like a second sun.

"Yes... I knew it. She’s awakening." A confident grin stretched across Aamir’s face.

Suddenly, a soft chime echoed in his ears, and a translucent screen flickered in front of his eyes.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

One of the 10 Calonian Elite has been defeated by a Marked One.

Aamir clenched his fist. "Yes! That’s one down. Nine more to go."

Turning his head, he barked to the soldiers nearby. "You, go check on Riya! Treat her wounds if she has any!"

The soldier saluted and darted off.

The old man chuckled, his gray hair fluttering slightly under the pressure of Aamir’s aura. "You’re surprisingly calm for someone fighting one of the elite."

Aamir didn’t smile this time. "You’ve been holding back. I can tell. You’re strong, but you haven’t struck to kill."

The old man laughed aloud, a deep, hearty sound that felt oddly warm in the midst of the chaos.

"You’re sharp, boy. But don’t get confused. I’m not a good guy either. Still... I can’t abandon my country—even if the cause is wrong. Orders are orders."

Aamir’s gaze sharpened. "And I can’t let you win either. So... let’s end this!"

"Fine by me." The old man raised his fists, his stance shifting into something far more refined and dangerous.

Elsewhere on the battlefield...

Raj moved like wind through wheat, his fingers dancing over enemy pressure points with surgical precision. With every touch, a soldier crumpled, paralyzed.

"You’re done. And you’re next." Raj whispered, stepping sideways, evading a blade, and countering with two quick taps.

But then—

BOOM!

A fiery meteor-like impact crashed just a few meters away. Dust and flame erupted into the air.

Raj shielded his eyes, his senses alert.

From within the smoke, a silhouette emerged. The smoke parted slowly, revealing a man in his thirties, wiping ash off his tattered tunic.

"Damn it... crashed again," the man muttered, inspecting the tear across his shoulder. He sighed dramatically. "These were my favorite battle clothes too... what a tragedy!"

Raj raised an eyebrow. "You do realize you’re on a battlefield, right?"

The man gave a bright, carefree smile. "Yup! And that’s why I should be even more careful. Bloodstains are hard to remove from white fabric."

Raj’s expression didn’t shift, but his eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?"

The man tilted his head. "You don’t know me? That’s actually kind of insulting. I’m Zenith, Calonia’s Number Seven Elite. The clumsy one."

He grinned. "But don’t worry. I may trip a lot... but I never fall when it counts."

Raj smirked, stepping forward confidently. "Well, we’ll see about that. But by your aura, you’re the real deal."

Zenith dusted his torn cloak. "Of course I am, but I’m not so sure about you. Hope you’re worth my time."

Raj cracked his knuckles. "Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. Let’s not waste breath." Zenith sighed. "Man, alright then." BOOM!

Zenith launched like a bullet, wind screaming behind him as he soared toward Raj with devastating speed and explosive force.

Raj didn’t flinch—he stepped in and threw his fist; their punches collided, unleashing ripples and thunderous shockwaves through the air.

Read 𝓁atest chapters at fr(e)ewebnov𝒆l.com Only