OLD-WORLD EXTRA-Chapter 530: An Invitation II

"It's been a while, hasn't it, big guy? Heard you've been filling in your shoes recently." Emir let a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, I manage. You know, Lord. Seems you've been busy, too. Rough work hiding in the shadows, isn't it?"

Isidore chuckled, though the sound was as cold as metal scraping against metal.

"Busy? That's a bit of an understatement, don't you think? Takes a lot to keep everything together when people are out there making a mess of things."

"Oh, I wouldn't know."

Emir shot back, the faintest mockery hiding behind his words.

"Never had a taste for picking up after other people's messes."

"Good thing you're not running the show, then."

Isidore crossed his arms, his dark eyes unblinking.

"Otherwise, you'd be buried six feet under with that attitude."

Emir gave a dry, humorless chuckle.

"Six feet? You aiming a little low these days?"

Isidore didn't miss a beat.

"Nah, got better things to waste my time on than sizing coffins for a guy who can't figure out which side he's on."

"Guess it makes sense you'd think that way."

Emir leaned forward just a touch.

"Only one who'd know which side they're on is someone too scared to leave it."

"Oh, I leave my side all the time."

Isidore's lips curled into a razor-thin grin.

"Just gotta keep an eye on the hired help, make sure they're worth their weight."

Emir tilted his head, that mocking smile never leaving his face.

"Lucky for you I'm not your hired help, then. Besides...

His voice lowered.

"We both know I don't come cheap."

Isidore let out a dry laugh.

"You? I'd say you're about as cheap as they come. Swagger around like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, but in the end, you're just another gun for hire, aren't you?"

"Oh, you're right about the weight."

Emir's tone went even colder.

"Difference is, I'm willing to carry it, while you're too busy handing yours off to others." "Careful with the accusations, big boy."

Isidore's voice matched his opponent's, dropping to a dangerous low.

"We wouldn't want that weight to crush you when you're this high up."

Emir laughed, a sound meant to unsettle.

"If that's a threat, you're gonna need more than words to make it land."

"Oh, don't worry."

Isidore shrugged.

"When I make threats, they don't need repeating."

"Good to know."

Emir nodded as if he learned something new.

"Just make sure you're around when it's time to make good on them."

With that, their match ended and Isidore's expression hardened, finally getting to the point.

"I'm sure your dumbass is wondering why I invited you today. Well, good for you, because I'm willing to answer."

"Go ahead then."

"But first, I'd like you to tell me something."

Isidore leaned in.

"What's with you and Ragnar? Quite the... unusual bond, isn't it?"

Emir's eyes narrowed.

"Why the interest?"

Isidore chuckled, tapping a finger against his chin.

"Let's just say, your little 'teamwork' during the test caught my attention. Or rather... your thoughts did."

At that, Emir felt a shift in the air, one that he didn't react to.

"My thoughts?"

Isidore's tone turned almost playful.

"Oh, don't act surprised, I know that you know. I could practically hear you, muttering to yourself at the end..."

He paused, then recited, word for word, the thoughts Emir had at the time, mocking him with

every phrase, savoring every word.

"''Is it Ragnar?""

"''But what? What did I miss?""

"...'Shit!""

"'The thoughts...' 'They'll know everything.""

Emir stayed expressionless as Isidore continued, voice dripping with amusement.

"''I'm fucked!""

When Isidore finally reached the end of his script, he continued in a more serious tone:

"The way you two worked together? It wasn't natural. Not at your level. Unless... Ragnar

wasn't a stranger to you."

Emir shrugged.

"Maybe we just clicked."

Isidore's eyes darkened.

"Don't play dumb. The only way that would make sense is if you both were... Subjects."

Emir pretended to yawn, as nothing he heard was of importance.

"Maybe that too, who knows."

Surprised with such a weak reaction, Isidore continued:

"Of course... I considered that, but it didn't make sense. Subjects are watched, controlled. If they're not useful, they're killed. It's what happened to all the chosen before you. But you- you're a known escapee. Got yourself a galactic bounty to prove it. The Order couldn't reel you in, so they tried to crush you, failing spectacularly."

Emir just raised a brow.

"You done yet?"

Isidore ignored him, pressing on.

"But Ragnar? If he really is a Subject... then he pulled off a flawless escape. The Order doesn't

even know he exists. To them, he's as good as dead."

Emir didn't respond, and after a moment, Isidore let out a frustrated breath.

"You see... I took a peek into Ragnar's mind."

Emir's stomach dropped, but he kept his poker face.

"I glimpsed into his dream... a dream where some voice taught him how to..."

His voice trailed off as his face turned into disgust.

"Well, it's better left unsaid."

Emir didn't know what to say.

Out of all things... Isidore saw 'that.'

What he just heard was unlike anything he expected.

It was good that his trust in Ragnar wasn't for nothing but...

He was more of an idiot than he thought.

Emir quickly left it at that, not wanting to think about it any longer than he had to.

"I didn't learn much that day, but I left with doubts."

Isidore gave Emir a look, amused.

"And you, with all your little moves, made me more suspicious."

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

Emir gritted his teeth.

'Damn.'

The Streisand effect had backfired on him.

"Since then, I've kept an eye on things, waiting... And now, I think I've pieced it all together."

Emir straightened his back, knowing that things were about to get serious.

"You're

one

kidnapped Aria, aren't you?"

Emir looked back at him, expression unchanging, then simply said:

"No."

Isidore chuckled, but there was an edge to it.

"Your DNA trick threw me off for a bit. But when I looked deeper... everything clicked."

Emir stayed silent, watching him.

"And I know you expected me to figure it out eventually. But you didn't care."

Isidore continued, his eyes glinting:

"Because of what you did with Auric."

His smirk grew darker.

"That little... bomb you planted? Brilliant work. Especially for a fifteen-year-old. I don't

know what the Order is feeding you kids but I wish they'd spare some for my retard of a son..."

He sighed.

"Auric's walking around, paranoid, convinced there's a traitor. He's rough with everyone,

always trying to provoke someone into slipping up, doing everything by himself."

Emir shrugged.

"Seemed like the logical move."

Isidore nodded, genuinely impressed.

"And now he's suspicious of all of us. Thinks someone's gone to bed with the Order. Not just a

light tease, first base, but full-on fucking. Thinking that one of us is involved in making the monsters mad, knowing how to corrupt Aether cores."

Emir said nothing, just watched as Isidore's smile faded, the man clearly aware that Emir had

them checkmated.

"Sure, we can't put the blame on you now, it'd only look like we were deflecting blame, but

there isn't any need for that. After all, even with all your smarts..."

Isidore leaned back, relaxing on his throne.

"Power trumps all. I'm sure you were reminded of that today."

Emir let out a chuckle, crossing his arms.

"Is that it? Here I thought you actually had something meaningful to say."

He began to dematerialize, the VR room flickering around him.

"Goodbye, Lord."

But just before he completely vanished, he heard Isidore's voice echo through the virtual

space.

"See you at the banquet."

And then, darkness...

Blink.

All that pizzazz was for an invitation.

'Fucking pure-blood.'