OLD-WORLD EXTRA-Chapter 404: Twice In A Row

Amon's words carried an oppressive weight, far exceeding the casual tone of his expression.

The resulting pressure forced Emir's head down, and the burden behind the reminder nearly overwhelmed him.

But he was not one to remain subdued for long.

'Aether Overdrive'

He chanted inwardly, unleashing a momentary surge of power that lifted his strength by several grades, bordering Serpahim's second subrank, Exarch.

His Core pulsed, and Aether congregated towards him.

Emir then commanded the Aether to coat his body, and that was what happened, as it enveloped him while also circulating through him, amplifying his defense.

Gritting his teeth, he readied himself and raised his head, his inky eyes swirling.

He met Amon's gaze head-on, defying the principal's insinuation.

The room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of their silent confrontation, a tension so high that it felt as if a knife could cut through it.

If one looked at how they usually interacted, one might forget that Amon was the strongest being on Earth.

It wasn't Isaac Klien, as the world believed, but Amon.

His power was absolute, his presence commanding.

Every head must bow, every tongue must confess-Amon was the strongest Celestial of Earthkind.

Students, professors, even the Elite-all feared him.

It wasn't merely because he held authority over them, but because he possessed a terrifying capacity for retribution.

In simple words, he could be a nightmare if he wanted to be.

They used him and made deals with him, but there was a line they didn't dare to cross.

And while that 'line' wasn't defined, it certainly included the protection of his students.

Amon's casual demeanor masked a formidable force capable of bending the entirety of Earth to his will, and Emir, standing before him, felt the full weight of that reminder.

To put it into perspective for those slow, he was the same rank as the chess pieces in Setrenc, the gathering of powerhouses.

Aether would react violently to his true name, just as it would to theirs, unlike those directly beneath him in rank.

The difference between sub-ranks in the Archon rank was just that significant.

Isaac Klien was an exception, as that wasn't his real name.

Being a Thief, he naturally hid it.

Though the chess pieces had been in that rank for much longer, Amon's strength might still rival theirs, thanks to his overpowered Specialization.

It was no exaggeration; the sole demonstration of his prowess proved that. Throughout the relentless hours they had spent fighting and trapping the Tyrants, Amon had wielded only one ability-Ethereal Chains, a power he had acquired from killing a Reaper.

The sheer potential of that ability, if unleashed in full, was unimaginable. One could only speculate how devastating it could be if used all at once against a single target.

Again, if it hadn't been emphasized enough, with the best possible preparation, Amon had the potential to end even the Sun itself.

Truly... Emir was playing with fire every time he teased him, but he wasn't about to back down, he wasn't scared, not even close.

"Stop... bluffing, I ain't... falling for... it."

As he barely spoke those words without stuttering, Amon released his hold over him, allowing him to straighten his back and let out a long breath.

"That's nice to hear, son~."

Emir, dismissive of the comment, simply muttered, "...Whatever," before standing up and striding toward the door.

"Don't forget to check out the mission details tonight, you'll be going out this Friday." Without turning around, he asked:

"And my reward?"

A soft laugh resounded behind him, ticking him off, but he let Amon speak, only clicking his tongue in response.

"You'll have to stack missions for that."

Not giving him the reaction he wanted, Emir stepped out, the door sliding shut behind him.

Slowly, his demeanor did a one-eighty as his frown turned into a calm smile, too calm to be seen by cameras.

'You're not the only one who can play those games~.'

His act went off without a hitch, and he managed to loosen Amon's tongue, earning a vital piece of information.

The principal and his Thief of a friend suspected Emir was only there in the Academy to gather information on his father and would leave once he had it.

They openly planned to string him along, stretching his patience as much as they could without exhausting him and causing him to turn against them.

This revelation indicated they were unaware of his animosity with Arthur, his secondary objective being to kill him.

His primary goal, of course, remained the survival of his family and vengeance towards those who forced his father to disappear.

'Hm...'

Emir put his little acting contest on hold as he arrived in his office.

He then sank into his chair, allowing himself a few hours of respite before the next challenge.

'I need to relax a bit. I can't be going up against Mr. Player when I'm tired.'

With that thought, he closed his eyes and took a nap, letting the tension of the day fade away.

...

...

...

He fluttered his eyes open.

There, directly in front of him, sat Mr. Player.

The other chess pieces?

They were covered by the purple 'fog.'

He couldn't see them.

This was another private talk.

Emir had requested it as soon as he arrived, surprising everyone else, who buzzed about how

he had broken another record and created a new one himself-being the first to do it twice in a

row.

"...I'm sorry, but I can't."

The 'fog' before him twisted at those words.

"Why not?"

Emir sighed and looked further down, his head still in the direction of Mr. Player's throne.

"To be completely honest with you... not having a binding contract makes me really uneasy. There exists but one person in the universe outside my blood family who has a deep connection with me without a binding contract... Actually, make that two. I've recently acquired a brother, you see."

Mr. Player hummed for a moment, appearing amused.

"...How did you come to this point?...Such a degree of paranoia is unusual."

As they both silently decided to be honest, he continued to be truthful as well.

"Well, I lost something. It wasn't much, just myself what I believed to be my identity. There are other things that are far more important, but it still affected me... quite a lot." Another hum played out, but this time it was melancholy, matching the somber mood that

drowned the place.

"Child... We are the guardians of humankind, Celestials as numerous as the stars, our might

on a quest to surpass that of our forebears. Yet we are also ill-stared souls, damned and eternally ensnared in a struggle against chaos, vying to control our wretched fates."

Emir closed his eyes, taking in those beautiful words with a smile, almost enchanted.

He could see why Mr. Board was such a fanatic.

The man before him walked the path of sound, for every word he uttered was a symphony in

and of itself.

It was such a poetic way of expressing things that he couldn't help but compliment him:

"...That was beautiful."

Mr. Player's 'fog' shifted up and down as he said:

"I don't mind undertaking a binding pact, but keep in mind that you won't be able to escape

this one like you do the others."

Emir tilted his head.

"How so?"

"Simple... The oaths are anchored to the soul, not to the nanobots. It shall be directly

entwined with Aether, our mother tree."

At Mr. Player's quick explanation, Emir immediately grasped what was left unsaid.

Archons could no longer be killed by their own nanobots, they reached a rank too high, though the nanobots were still used as usual, keeping their internal systems active.

The functionality for punishing a breach of contract was disabled however, leaving them only as recording devices for the Oracle to monitor the contract or the oath itself. Presumably, instead of scrapping the entire system, the Archons influenced their own souls, shackling them, as that was the only way to make sure that death would win.

This raised the question of what came first, the technological binding contract or the soul

binding contract.

Mr. Player, who seemingly expected him to reach such a question, answered that for him:

"The soul came first... Do you not see? The concept of the binding contract was born from it. Your government appropriated this notion, lifting it from the old worldeners who first conceived the nanobots and claiming it as their creation."

'...Ha.'

There was and still is no winter on Earth because its magnetic shield no longer existed...

At least not in the way it used to.

During Arrmagoden, the planet's Magnetosphere was already significantly weakened.

This was due to the ongoing magnetic pole flip, a natural phenomenon where the north and

south poles switched places.

Before the nukes were launched, many other proxy wars took place, and their impact exacerbated the situation, causing the already fragile shield to shatter completely.

As a result, the so-called old worldeners faced cosmic rays, solar wind, and many other

dangers.

To combat that on a human scale, they developed nanobots.

But they didn't use them for long, as life on the surface ceased to exist not so long after that.

And so... given this history, Mr. Player's words made complete sense.

"I understand. But how do I make this oath when I'm only a Seraphim?"

Mr. Player moved his left hand and snapped his fingers.

"Here is how..."