OLD-WORLD EXTRA-Chapter 504: Four Monster Tides

The evening sky cast a muted glow over a cafe's balcony,

It overlooked the upper district where Emir, Lyra, and Ragnar sat.

Between them was heavy smoke, dissolving into the cold air.

Emir leaned back in his chair, a half-burnt and smoldering cigar rested between his fingers.

Puff... He exhaled a thin stream of smoke, watching it rise.

"Did you want to talk about Arthur?"

Lyra spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence.

She sat on a low stone bench against the glass window, knees pulled up to her chest.

"What do we even say?"

Ragnar huffed out a laugh, deep and rough like gravel.

"Well, I guess he's still alive..."

He took a drag from his own cigar, the ember flaring bright orange.

"If you can call that living."

Emir chuckled softly and ran a hand through his dark hair, letting the silence linger for a moment before answering.

"Just because he's got cybernetics installed now doesn't make him any less alive than he was... Though I guess this's what they'd call character development, no?"

Lyra's smile widened, and she shrugged, playing along.

"If you mean being blown apart by your own greed and pieced back together like a broken toy, then yes, quite the development."

The three exchanged glances, the kind only shared between those who knew each other far too well and knew just when to tiptoe around an unspoken truth.

"It's odd, isn't it?"

Ragnar mused, tapping ash from the end of his cigar into the air, letting it flow.

"This world... the way things play out sometimes, it's almost like it's scripted. Truly scripted. And yet, the smallest changes send it spinning in new directions."

Emir's smile slipped into something more pensive.

"A lie..."

Lyra and Ragnar's attention sharpened, though neither moved nor spoke.

"They made me believe it was a novel, some grand story already written. I hated that, but still used it... What happens now, after something like this? How can I be sure that tomorrow isn't my promised date?"

Lyra's eyes darkened, the playfulness slipping away.

"It isn't. I won't let it."

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees.

"And besides... It's not supposed to be predictable, is it? That's the point. The twists and turns, the chaos-makes it all so much more... real."

Emir nodded, a 'normal' smile returning to his lips.

"Real, yes. And what a mess real life is."

Ragnar's rumbling laugh rolled through the air again, breaking the tension that had begun to build.

"Reality is often stranger than fiction... I've always thought of it as an exaggeration, but this shit is a fucking mess for real. I just wonder how long it'll be before he tries something retarded again. What was it? Envy? Ambition? Or just plain stupidity?"

"All three... and unfortunately, if he gets out of this with his mind intact, I don't think we'll see anything truly stupid again."

Emir took a final drag from his cigar and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

"Unfortunate."

The ember hissed and died, smoke curling into thin trails that vanished as quickly as they

came.

"Well, here's to surviving another day."

He raised an imaginary glass, eyes glinting as he met theirs.

"One day closer to the promised end."

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A silence fell over them again, heavy.

Lyra shifted, crossing her arms over her chest.

She hated it when he talked like that, but she kept her face composed, neutral.

Ragnar's had his eyes narrow slightly, his smile thinning.

He felt the same as his supposed "arch-enemy."

But they didn't argue or protest.

Not tonight.

"Cheers."

...

...

Two Days Later

Emir sat on a throne below a pawn, his head straight, lowered so that he couldn't see who sat opposite him, covered by a purple fog.

He waited for a moment or two, allowing everyone to settle, then spoke:

"Good day, Mr. Player. Thank you for inviting me to your esteemed gathering once again."

Like last time, a ripple of greetings began with him as the origin.

"Peace be upon you, Malik ul-Sout."

"Howdy, Mr. Player! Howdy, everyone!"

"I hope your week went well, Mr. Player."

"Hello... Mr. Player."

"This's the best of days, Mr. Player!"

"My most sincere greetings, Mr. Player. I pray that your path continues to shine brightly

before you."

Like an exact repetition of the last gathering, the person on his right went first, then the left, then the right, then the left, and so on, until it ended with the fanatic, Mr. Board.

Pa...

A hum of acceptance resounded.

It snaked its way to their ears, drumming their heads purely due to its weight.

"Setrenc welcomes you... Before we begin, do present your scripts, if you have any."

||

||||

By the third second, it appeared that this too was going to be like the last, but just as that thought crossed Emir's mind, a man's voice was heard:

"Mr. Player. I've fulfilled my promise."

It was Mr. King.

He reached forward, placing not one but three scrolls on the table.

"...Three, is it?"

That surprised all but Mr. Player, as he seemed to have been expecting this.

Perhaps it was the reason why he delayed the gathering in the first place.

"Yeah, can't believe my luck with this one... almost got done in, though."

Mr. Player's fog moved up and down as he asked:

"Shall we continue as usual?"

"Yeah, same as always."

With that, their transaction was done, as was the first phase of the gathering.

Yet, the room barely had a chance to quiet before Ms. Knight leaned forward:

"So, ye ever gonna spill what ye're gettin' for all these Scripts? Been a few years now, and that mysterious act's startin' to lose its shine."

What had just happened seemed to be no secret, but rather a common occurrence instead.

Whenever Mr. King stumbled upon a Script, he exchanged it for the same mysterious reward.

Whatever it was, he'd managed to keep it under wraps until now, despite the likely many

prying questions from the other chess pieces.

"Oh, but that would ruin the fun, wouldn't it?

Mr. King chuckled, waving her off.

"And why would I ever let a walking holoscreen commercial in on my plans?"

Ms. Knight feigned offense, clutching her heart with a theatrical gasp. "Commercial, really? How original. Guess that's the best ye could come up with, eh?"

He wagged a finger, his golden rings gleaming under the hazy light.

"Careful now, or you'll turn this into a story about how the little Knight tried to play with fire

and got herself burned."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not willing to let him have the last word.

"Oh, that's rich comin' from someone who sparkles so much ye could be mistaken as a broken

lighthouse."

Mr. King laughed heartily, the sound booming through the room.

"Keep it up, Knight. Maybe I'll throw in a few extra Veez to keep you quiet at next week's

gathering!"

She giggled, ready for the next jab.

"Or maybe ye could spend those Veez hirin' someone to come up with better material for ye!"

Before Mr. King could clap back, Mr. Board finally interfered, his voice sounding obviously

irritated:

"Enough."

Ms. Queen did the same in a poised fashion, her eyes on Ms. Knight.

"There'll be time for that later. Let's hear what matters first."

"Yeah, yeah..."

In response to their words, Mr. Player inclined his head, signaling the gathering's transition

into the second phase.

The room had a more casual air now, and the tensions from earlier had dissipated into the

familiar rhythm of their meetings.

Ms. Knight, always the first to break the silence in her usual carefree manner, stretched lazily

in her seat.

"Well, I've been busy. Took down four monster tides at the Edge a few days ago."

"...Four?"

Mr. Rook's voice was laced with mild disbelief.

"And you didn't get yourself into trouble?"

Ms. Knight's grin widened. "Trouble? Nah. I'm too quick for that. But it was a hell of a fight. They just keep coming, you

know? Thought I might have been up for a new record."

Mr. King chimed in:

"What kind of monsters are we talking about here?"

"Oh, just the usual. A few Behemoths, the giant freak type, commanding their kin, and a

couple of asteroid-throwing brutes, and of course, a bunch of Corrupted bastards. Those ones

are always fun."

"I don't get how you call fighting those Fallen shits fun, but whatever, you do you."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Eh. It's either that or get bored out of my mind while waiting for another mission. You

wouldn't believe how much of a rush it is when you're standing in the middle of a horde with

nothing but your sword and some dumbasses behind you."

Mr. Rook snorted.

"And they call us the weird ones."

"Heh, you're one to talk, Rook."

Ms. Queen added, her voice smooth as always.

"And what's your kin's new obsession with going to the Undying Caverns? I had five ask for

permission just last week. Every time I see one get out, they're covered in more dust than the

last one, like they're competing."

He shrugged his shoulders, knowing that she wouldn't understand.

"It adds to the ambiance."

Mr. Rook was right, as she simply looked at him with a confused gaze.

She was about to say something, but Mr. Board raised his hand, interrupting her, clearly eager

to move the meeting along.

"I'll give my report..."