OLD-WORLD EXTRA-Chapter 481: Signs Of Life

Emir remembered.

He realized... He trembled.

A moment passed.

He forced himself still, pressing down the tremor in his hands.

Slowly, his face went cold, and he closed his eyes.

Unknowingly to him, a single black tear slipped from his right eye, tracing a path down his face.

It left a faint, inky trail that shimmered before dropping to the ground.

And then, just like the name that summoned it...

It had vanished.

Once that happened, Emir began to click his thumb and index fingers at specific intervals, only stopping after a few seconds had gone past.

At that moment, a certain procedure had repeated itself, and apparently, it wasn't the first time this happened since it was first 'noted.'

{Procedure conditions met.}

{Initiating procedure.}

{Decoding Morse Code.}

{P:.--.}

{Complete.}

{Adding to previous 12 procedures.}

{Johnson. Third P...}

{Sentence incomplete, requiring further input.}

{Procedure termination delayed.}

{Sending to Lyra's database.}

{Authorization requested.}

{Authorization sent.}

{Lyra system 20175182109 accepted data.}

{Procedure complete.}

{Wiping information.....}

{...}

{...}

"Hmm..."

Groggily, his eyes opened back up, and he glanced at the remnants of the walls surrounding him as if nothing strange had just happened.

"...Hey, Shadow Squad."

Two heartbeats later, four men materialized at his call, surrounding him from all directions. "Sir."

He glanced at them, then pointed at Aquila.

"Joe. Dump this guy with the rest of them. We can't have any more dying today."

One of the cloaked men nodded and rushed to hoist Aquila over his shoulder, glancing at his leader one last time before leaving the room.

Emir stared at him in silence, while the others in the Shadow Squad exchanged quick glances, their unease clear.

And then one of the men, Jax, finally gathered his courage and broke the silence:

"Sir, was that... are you alright?"

Emir's eyes drifted over to him, narrowing just slightly.

"Do I look unwell to you?"

Jax hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

While Emir looked like everything but "well," he couldn't exactly say that now, could he?

"Of course not; i-it's just... that last encounter. It was close."

Emir's gaze sharpened further, as if snapping out of a fog.

"I'm fine. Close, yes, but not close enough to end me."

He showed a smirk, but it lacked any of his usual 'charm.'

It screamed danger.

"Are you worried I can't handle it?"

"N-No, sir. Just... we noticed you were, uh, lost in thought."

Emir gave him a curt nod, brushing off the concern.

"Nothing that concerns you."

The question hung in the air, and the squad's silence stretched for a little until Donavan cleared his throat.

"Permission to ask, sir."

"Granted."

"Why didn't you order us to interfere back there? If you died... we..."

His voice dropped, clearly unsure if his words were considered disrespectful.

"Azazel can't function without you."

Emir looked at him for a while and his smirk died down.

"Your name?"

At that moment, the poor spy thought that everything was over, yet he still answered the question, his loyalty unquestionable.

"I-It's Donavan, sir."

Nodding, Emir patted his shoulder and revealed a genuine smile.

"Well, Donavan, it's because you would've been a burden."

Not minding his words one bit, he hid a sigh of relief and saluted.

"Understood, sir."

Just as their conversation ended, Ben quickly bowed his head, unable to mask his stuttering

voice.

"Forgive us, sir. We've been with you for some time now, seen you face a lot... yet that was-"

He paused, unsure how to describe it.

"Different. Please dismiss their rude questions as simple curiosity."

Emir held Ben's gaze, letting a moment of silence pass before speaking.

"It's fine... Don't worry. I dislike killing the 'named' ones."

The men shared a glance, not knowing what he meant, but knew better than to push any

further.

But then all of a sudden, Ben shifted, his head snapping upwards.

"Apologies for interrupting, sir, but I have news."

"Go ahead."

"Thank you. About the bodies... the Seraphims. There's no trace of them. The 'opportunist'

who took them left no clues behind."

Emir frowned, running a hand over his chin as he processed the consequences of this

information.

"So, Judas wasn't bluffing."

He glanced up, addressing all four men now.

"It's likely the work of the Praying Lady. She's gathering 'resources' for her next attack in

advance. No Astral would leave Seraphim bodies behind unless they were stripped of their

cores."

Jax raised a brow.

"What should we do if we find him? Do we intervene, or...?"

Emir chuckled.

"Find him? You won't. He's likely on the other side of the planet right now."

Embarrassed, he nodded and hid behind his leader, internally vowing to never ask a question

again.

Ben, covering for his mate, stepped forward and asked:

"And Aquila, sir? Will we let Lionheart heal him or...?"

Emir simply nodded.

"Yeah, no mind games here. I just want him back in the lineup. He knows this isn't a free

pass."

The men exchanged glances again, this time with subtle approval.

Emir's approach was incredibly strict, but they understood the necessity.

Otherwise, Azazel wouldn't have thrived as such.

"Anything else?"

Jax cleared his throat multiple times, his calm face masking the turmoil within.

"Sir, there's been word from a few of our scouts. They've found her last location."

Emir's expression turned bright, knowing who he meant.

"...Lyra." "Yes, sir. No signal yet, but signs point to her being active. She's alive."

Emir's smile widened.

"Stay on her trail. Report anything you find. She might be in more trouble than we can

imagine."

With that, the men nodded and dissolved back into the surroundings, as silent as they had

come.

'I hope that she's alright...'

Emir, after a moment of thought, proceeded to head towards Lionheart.

But, right before he could leave the room, a figure appeared directly in front of him.

There was no questioning who this figure was, the power behind his existence engraved itself

in his surroundings.

His clothes were spotless as they always were, and no speck of blood, dirt, or dust adorned

him.

If one looked at him, they wouldn't be able to imagine that he had just fought and defeated a

terror, a world-ending disaster.

A Behemoth.

Right, that figure was Amon, the principal of the Academy, and the strongest Celestial on

Earth.

He seemed relaxed, yet that changed the moment his eyes scanned Emir's body.

Concern was obvious, like a king looking at his prince, a father, and his son.

But his words didn't show that.

He wasn't about to give him ammo to embarrass him later.

"You look like you're one foot into the grave."