OLD-WORLD EXTRA

475  I Know You

Emir moved swiftly, his steps unnaturally calm, almost slow. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Yet, in an instant, he would vanish and reappear in a new position. Behind him, a white cloak—torn and stained with blood—fluttered, remnants of a very recent and untold battle clinging on.

Slung over his right shoulder was his curved sword, and on its tip was a decapitated head, strapped by the hair—its lifeless eyes wide open in an expression of terror.

Emir's appearance was grim; he looked more like a Reaper than the Reapers themselves, but that didn't matter to him.

The current prince wasn't so interested in keeping himself clean, the corruption taking the place of order. By his twentieth step, he had already reached his destination, slowing down as he entered a massive room further in the station. The sight he stumbled upon was straight out of a horror movie. Scattered around him were the figures of HG leaders, laid across the ground, burnt, broken, limbless, and bloodied, their presence imposing no longer.

But not all were there.

Two were missing. Lionheart, who was no more than ten seconds away from reaching the site, and Maharajah, who was no longer among the living.

His body had been reduced to little more than dust, his remains swirling through the air and settling in the dark corners of the ruin.

For him, the battle had ended, just as it had for the rest of the fallen.

All except for one.

Aquila.

He stood alone, barely holding his ground against the masked man. His body trembled with exhaustion, his augmented suit ripped apart, most of the nanobots returning to their neutral state, leaving him half-naked.

His gun arm had it the worst, blue and black, a result of constantly parrying each of the masked man's lightning-fast strikes.

The bayonet on his gun was cracked as well, nearing its end.

Aquila was severely outmatched.

All this... was just entertainment for the man. He moved with such speed that his every action left a blur, his form a series of afterimages.

Bullets flew, but they never found their mark—dodged with lazed ease, almost as though the fight was beneath his attention.

And Emir, who watched from a distance, immediately picked up on who their surprise guest was.

'...It's obvious.'

He wasn't confused as to why he showed up.

Though it went against the 'novel,' he had anticipated this as one of the possible scenarios, drawing from the man's most defining trait—evil.

The masked man hadn't noticed him yet, or at least he hadn't acknowledged him, too entertained by the struggling man in front of him to care about a new addition.

'I'll have your attention alright.'

Emir's hand tightened on the hilt of his curved sword and lowered it, letting the head slip from the blade.

It hit the ground with a dull thud, rolling slightly before coming to a stop.

Just as that happened, eight men landed on the ground behind him, appearing to have come out of the walls and roof.

All wore black, and at first glance, one could notice that the four at the front of the group were in charge, the air about them deadlier than the others. That sight finally caught the masked man's attention, his eyes flickering briefly toward them.

He paused mid-strike and straightened.

Aquila took a stumbling step back, panting, his face pale.

The Shadow Squad, not needing to be commanded, immediately spread out, each man heading to one of the fallen HG leaders.

The masked man's body turned to face one of them, about to attack, but Emir interfered.

"I know you..."

He stepped forward, planting his sword into the ground with a heavy clang.

His cloak settled around him, partially covering the stump where his left arm used to be.

"Can't say I'm surprised though."

Emir gave him a once-over, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a faint smirk, he quipped:

"By the way. Say hi to your cute puppet, your 'chained leader.' I'm afraid that you might need a replacement."

The masked man turned fully towards him now, eyes narrowing.

He glanced briefly at the head on the ground where the head lay, then back at Emir, his tone flat and unimpressed.

"…What happened to you, filth?"

Emir chuckled softly, as though the question amused him.

"Just had some fun with a few priests."

He then tilted his head slightly, running a hand over the hilt of his sword.

"Now, I gotta ask… can you hurt me? Won't it be going against the binding contract?"

There was a pause, the man regarding Emir with both disdain and curiosity.

"I can... because all I'm doing now is playing a mere game. One devoid of killing intent. Nothing more than that."

Emir raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face widening slightly.

'Huh… he actually believes that.'

He chuckled. "Judas. You're insane."

"...I'm afraid I don't know who you're referring to. But tell me, are you any different? If you truly believe this to be reality, well... I would already be dead, wouldn't I?"

'I guess being immune to contracts has its disadvantages as well...'

Shrugging his shoulders, Emir shifted his gaze toward Aquila, who had finally regained his balance, eyes filled with exhaustion.

Blood dripped down his forehead, and his grip on his gun was unsteady, but still, he met Emir's inky eyes and gave him a curt nod.

He wasn't done yet.

Not if there was still a chance to survive.

Emir returned his focus to Judas and the atmosphere grew thick in response.

For a brief moment, all was still.

Then, without warning, Emir's form experienced rapid transformation, pulsating with Aether.

The power he now emanated was on an entirely new level.

There was no mistaking it...

He had ranked up.

No longer a Champion, he had ascended to the Exarch sub-rank.

Not too long ago, Aetheric Overdrive would have only pushed him close to this threshold, but it never would have allowed him to cross it.

This displayed just how rapidly his strength was growing—all thanks to his embodiment and stolen Aether Core.

To call such progress shocking was an understatement.

"You—"

Before Judas could fully process the situation, Emir lunged forward, his glowing blade slicing through the air.

Aquila followed a split second behind, his Celestial Revolver flashing as they moved in tandem.

Shots rang out, and Judas dodged, flashing away. But he was up against Emir, a man who held Flash Step.

In a single step, he was upon Judas, his curved blade raised high, muscles bulging as he swung it down.

"Die."