OLD-WORLD EXTRA-Chapter 137: Magnus’s First Move II

Two men locked eyes, and a palpable tension filled the air as they sat on opposite sides of the

room.

A handsome man, with jet-black hair and piercing black eyes, exuded an air of confidence.

The man seated across from him, overweight and resembling the epitome of an average salaryman, seemed out of place in the intense atmosphere.

With a deliberate motion, Emir slowly raised his hand, his fingers curling into a subtle gesture that only a celestial would recognize.

It was a mimicry of an attack, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Emir's gaze remained fixed Vincent, his lips curling into a sly smile as he observed a flicker of unease cross his face.

The confirmation of his suspicions only fueled his amusement, heightening the tension between them. freewēbnoveℓ.com

The room seemed to grow smaller as the silence stretched on, each man waiting for the other to make a move.

Vincent's eyes began to dart nervously, his heavy breathing betraying his apprehension.

He shifted in his seat, sweat glistening on his forehead as he attempted to maintain composure.

Emir's unwavering gaze bore into him, his expression a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

The weight of the moment hung heavy, the stillness broken only by the distant sound of a clock ticking.

Then out of nowhere, Emir's voice cut through the silence, laced with a hint of amusement: "Caught you off guard, didn't I?"

Vincent let out a defeated sigh, his voice tinged with resignation:

"You got me there, Emir. I almost thought you had a hidden weapon in your possession."

Emir's lips curled into a subtle smile, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief as he thought: 'Oh... So we are playing that game now, are we?'

He set his hand down, signaling an end to their silent confrontation.

"Fair enough," he replied casually, his tone betraying none of the tension that had filled the room moments before.

"Just wanted to scare you a bit. Now, let's start talking business."

And as Emir spoke his next words, his voice took on an ominous quality, reminiscent of death itself:

"Why did you come to our shop?"

His words echoed each a chilling reminder of the consequences that awaited those who dared to cross him.

The room seemed to grow colder, the atmosphere heavy with impending danger.

Vincent visibly trembled, realizing that even under the Elite's banner, he would not be safe from Emir's reach.

"L-look..."

He paused for a moment, only continuing after a deep breath.

"Look here, Emir, I am Vincent, of the Gold Leaf family, does that name ring any bells?"

Emir let out a scoff, his voice dripping with disdain:

"So what? You are but a dog of that family if you were sent to us. Or am I wrong in thinking that? Who knows... I mean, the Gold Leaf family could've fallen off while I was grinding out for relics in those ruins."

His words carried a subtle undertone, hinting at a possibility he wanted Vincent to believe, planting doubts in his mind, while simultaneously aiming to agitate him.

However, Vincent remained unfazed, his composure now intact, as he delivered his response:

"The Gold Leaf family, in accordance with the Moon Scribe family, has deemed the Prince Emporium company to have engaged in illegal activities. Actions are now set in motion to combat that."

The tension in the room thickened, and the air crackled with unspoken threats and veiled intentions.

Emir and Vincent locked eyes, each understanding the gravity of the situation and the stakes at hand.

The encounter had escalated from a mere confrontation to a battle of wits and power, with the fate of both individuals hanging in the balance.

Emir's expression underwent a chilling transformation.

The mischievous glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by an icy coldness that signaled impending doom.

It was a face he reserved for those destined to meet a gruesome and traumatic end.

"When will those actions begin?" He asked, his voice void of any emotion, as if the events unfolding before him held no significance.

The change in Emir's demeanor shook Vincent to the core.

And as he looked into Emir's eyes, he could feel the intensity and danger emanating from him.

He knew that now he was talking to the real Emir, a creation of the Order, a formidable tool, a weapon of war.

Vincent struggled to regain his composure, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke, feeling suffocated under Emir's piercing gaze.

"It has already begun," he said, his tone growing louder, his voice strained as if he were suffocating under the weight of Emir's presence.

He had never experienced such overwhelming killing intent before.

It wasn't the fantastical kind, but the kind that conveyed a sense of imminent death, where

one wrong step could unleash a volcano of fury and certain doom.

"I'm only here under the direct command of the Moon Scribe family..."

"They, in collaboration with the Gold Leaf family, have issued a legal document against Prince Emporium."

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Vincent continued, his voice gradually calming down.

"The founder of the company is scheduled to attend a court hearing in three months, where the fate of Prince Emporium and its legal owner will be decided."

His words hung in the air, awaiting Emir's response.

Emir simply let out a tired sigh, the release of breath coinciding with the defusing of the intense killing intent that had gripped the room.

It was as if a balloon had been popped, causing Vincent to startle, still on edge from the presence of the man before him.

The constant shifts in Emir's demeanor unsettled him even more so, leaving him uncertain of

what might come next.

But then something unexpected happened, something that Vincent never anticipated in all

the ways he had imagined this encounter unfolding.

It was a revelation that hung in the air, unspoken until that moment.

Emir uttered a single name:

"The Order."

And as those two words reached Vincent's ears, a profound sense of dread washed over him.

The meaning behind what he said reverberated through his being, shaking him to his very

core.

It was no longer just a conflict between families; it was a direct confrontation with the Order

itself.

Emir's awareness of the truth had been solidified, and while Vincent acted as if that was the case, now it was confirmed that Emir wouldn't care for anything that happened to him.

But before Vincent could fully process that, another name escaped Emir's lips, one that sent shivers down Vincent's spine for reasons he didn't know of:

"Magnus Valerius."

The moment the name registered in Vincent's mind, his body underwent a grotesque

transformation.

His form disintegrated into a gruesome explosion of gore, with limbs soaring through the air,

and blood splattering the surroundings.

The sheer force of the explosion propelled his dismembered body parts in all directions,

painting the room in a macabre display of horror.

Emir remained seated, with an eerie smile etched on his face, his eyes devoid of color, their depths consumed by an abyss of impenetrable blackness, emanating a chilling intensity as he calmly observed the blood dripping from the demolished couch opposite him.

"If you want war, then war is what you will get."

His voice echoed through the room, as blood continued to drip from every surface.

Pressing the solitary button in the middle of the table, he called out:

"We need cleaning service for room 509, and bring me some of your most expensive desserts.

Put it on Vincent's tab."