The Psychopathic Beast Emperor-Chapter 83: Meditation

His hand tightened as his fingers pressed against the guy’s vulnerable throat.

One squeeze.

Just one.

Then...

A sound; soft and clear.

A melody drifted through the eatery, cutting through chaos like moonlight through smoke. Like gentle strings; a voice woven with warmth and authority, each note carrying calm, pressing down on rage without force.

Bahamut froze. His grip loosened.

The red in his vision receded, dragged back by the song like a tide obeying the moon.

His breathing stuttered as the boy collapsed to the floor, gasping.

Everyone turned.

At the entrance stood Apollonia.

She walked forward calmly, her presence commanding silence without a word. Her song faded as she raised a hand, eyes settling on Bahamut; It was neither accusing, nor angry.

Just... understanding.

"That’s enough," she said gently.

Bahamut swayed.

Sel was there instantly, catching him before he fell.

The eatery was silent now. Eight boys lay broken on the floor. Tables ruined. Food wasted.

Bahamut sagged against Sel, chest heaving.

"...I am really hungry," he muttered.

Apollonia sighed, the faintest hint of amusement touching her lips.

"And you," she said softly, "are going to eat. Then you’re going to rest. Before you tear this sect apart by accident."

Ren peeked out from behind Sel’s shoulder.

...

The residence was quiet except for the sound of faint breathing for its inhabitants.

Bahamut lay sprawled on his bed, his arms spread, his chest rising and falling slowly. He had eaten... a lot. So much that the last quest on his screen was proving very difficult to complete at this point.

Sel sat on the edge of a low table across the room, cleaning his staff with practiced motions. Neither of them spoke, just in their own worlds. Ren on the hand, lay beside Bahamut, fast asleep.

In front of Bahamut, the system interface glowed.

[Daily Quest Update!]

[Meditate for two hours (Yet to complete)]

[Time Left: 3 hours!]

Bahamut sighed in exhaustion as he turned to Sel.

"...Sel."

Sel didn’t look up. "You’re not dead yet. That’s good."

"Barely," Bahamut muttered. Then, after a pause, "I need help."

That got Sel’s attention. He looked over, his eyebrow lifting slightly.

"With meditation," Bahamut clarified. "I want to learn proper meditation. Not fake sitting-around-looking-wise meditation."

Sel snorted softly. "You mean the kind where you actually shut up?"

"Painfully aware of that requirement," Bahamut replied.

Sel stood, putting the staff inside his storage ring. "Alright. But not in here."

Bahamut frowned. "Why?"

Sel gestured upward. "You need space, height, wind, and stillness. And somewhere you won’t be interrupted by idiots looking to die."

"...Fair."

They left the room together.

Outside the residence, the night had settled in fully. The sky was deep indigo, stars scattered like careless brushstrokes. Lanterns burned low along the pathways, their light soft and nonintrusive.

Three hours to midnight.

Two hours to survive sitting still.

The made their way towards a staircase outside their residence but was connected to it to the top of the building.

It spiraled upward along the outer edge of the residence, wide stone steps curving gently around the tower. There were no railings. Just open air on one side and stone on the other. As they climbed, the sounds of the sect seemed fade, the world slowly peeling away.

By the time they reached the top, the wind greeted them like an old acquaintance.

It was cool, steady, and clean.

The roof was circular, bare stone polished smooth by time. There were no decorations and no furniture. Just a wide open space beneath the stars.

Sel walked to the center and sat down cross-legged without ceremony.

Bahamut hesitated.

His body still remembered the pain from earlier, that he even thought that meditation would be the same.

But he still lowered himself slowly, mirroring Sel’s posture.

The suppressors tugged at him immediately, subtle but firm. A reminder. A leash.

"Before we start," Sel said calmly, "forget everything you think meditation is."

Bahamut exhaled. "I was afraid you’d say that."

"This isn’t about emptying your mind," Sel continued. "That’s a myth people tell themselves because it sounds impressive. Minds don’t empty. They settle."

Bahamut tilted his head slightly, listening.

"Close your eyes," Sel said.

"I’m blind."

"Humor me."

Bahamut closed them anyway.

"Good. Now stop trying to control your breathing."

"...I wasn’t."

"You are."

Bahamut sighed and let go.

His breath stuttered once, then slowly found its own rhythm. In. Out. It was uneven at first. Then it became steadier slowly.

"Feel your weight," Sel said. "Not your body. Your presence. The way you occupy space."

Bahamut frowned faintly.

At first, there was only discomfort. The ache in his muscles. The lingering tightness in his chest. The faint hum of the suppressors wrapped around his core like coiled chains.

Then... something else.

The wind brushing past his skin.

The stone beneath him, cool and solid.

The faint, distant thrum of the sect’s formations far below.

"You fight everything," Sel said quietly. "Your body. Your limits. Even rest. Meditation isn’t surrender. It’s... cooperation."

Bahamut’s jaw tightened.

He didn’t respond.

Minutes passed.

Thoughts came in waves.

Food. Hunger. Violence. The memory of his hand at someone’s throat. The song that stopped him. The system. The timer ticking away.

He tried to shove them down.

"Don’t," Sel said immediately.

Bahamut stiffened. "I didn’t..."

"You did," Sel replied. "Let them pass. Don’t chase them. Don’t fight them. You’re not the thought. You’re the space it moves through."

That... was unfamiliar.

Bahamut loosened his mental grip.

The thoughts didn’t stop.

They slowed.

Time stretched.

At some point, the ache in his body dulled. They did not vanish, they just became... distant. His Self-Healing hummed quietly, no longer scrambling to keep up, but maintaining a gentle balance.

His awareness sank inward.

He noticed things he hadn’t before.

The way the suppressors weren’t just restraints, but filters. Compressing his power into something dense and controlled. Heavy.

The way his heartbeat synced subtly with his breath.

The way his rage, his Brutality, wasn’t a monster clawing to get out, but a furnace. Hot and patient. Waiting for purpose.

"Good," Sel murmured, sensing the shift without looking. "You’re touching it now."

Bahamut swallowed.

For a moment... just a moment, he felt... still.

Not weak, nor strong.

Just present.

The stars wheeled slowly overhead.

The wind carried distant chimes from somewhere deeper in the sect.

Minutes turned into an hour.

Then more.

When Sel finally spoke again, his voice was soft.

"You’re doing it."

Bahamut didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Inside him, something settled into place; not a breakthrough, not enlightenment. Just a foundation. Quiet and unyielding.

The timer ticked down.

Two hours passed beneath the open sky.

And for the first time since arriving at the sect, Bahamut wasn’t fighting the world.

He was letting it exist around him.

...

High above the sleeping world, far beyond lantern light and wandering disciples, there existed a room that had no name. At least not one that was known.

Darkness lived there, not the absence of light, but something older, something intentional. The walls were smooth and black, swallowing sound, swallowing presence. No runes glowed. No incense burned.

At the center of the chamber stood a being.

He was tall. Masculine in outline, though the shape of him refused clarity. Skin, hair, and face... none of it could be truly seen. Only his eyes existed with certainty.

Deep gold.

Not bright, nor warm. But gold that had been buried beneath pressure and age. Gold that had watched civilizations rise, rot, and sink back into dust.

They were open and watching.

He wore white garments reminiscent of an ancient pharaoh; layered linen draped with ceremonial precision, pristine and untouched by time. The fabric caught what little light existed, reflecting it softly, like moonlight on bone.

He stood before a wide opening in the wall, an aperture that revealed the night sky far below.

Stars turned.

Wind moved.

Life continued, unaware.

The aura around him was immense.

Heavy.

A pressure that bent the unseen, like gravity given will. The darkness around him bowed subtly, as though even shadow knew its place.

He did not move.

He did not breathe.

He simply stared outward, gaze fixed on a point far beyond the horizon.

A faint disturbance rippled through the air.

For the first time in a very long while, the golden eyes narrowed by the smallest fraction.

Recognition.

Not surprise, never that.

Interest.

"...So," a voice finally emerged, deep and layered, as though more than one throat spoke in perfect unison.

The sound carried weight and meaning.

"This is the kid Sekhem speaks of, huh? He’s... interesting."

Silence returned immediately after.

The being remained still, white garments unmoving, gaze locked onto the sleeping world below.

Far beneath him, a blind boy sat beneath the stars, meditating.

Far beneath him, a system ticked quietly.

Far beneath him, a path long abandoned had begun to stir.

The golden eyes gleamed.

And the night, unknowingly, held its breath. Whoever that being was, he had noticed Bahamut and found interest in him. Whatever that meant... only he knew.

...

A/N: Good day from this side readers...

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