OLD-WORLD EXTRA-Chapter 539: Love Letters IIIV

Amon stood before Ten Archons.

He cut them down like they were nothing.

Because to him?

They were... Almost.

But he wasn't stronger than poison.

As Emir stood to thank him, Amon coughed blood.

Right. He was poisoned. The same poison that killed Longshot.

A final hail mary by one of the ten.

It seemed that even Amon had limits.

He fell to one knee, his face unreadable.

And then, with a quiet voice, he spoke his last words:

"Don't pity me... death with dignity is better than a life of humiliation."

Then, he was gone.

...

The funeral was simple.

No grand speeches. No eulogies.

Just a grave. Just silence.

Emir stood before it long after everyone had left.

Only he and Lyra remained.

She hesitated before speaking.

"Are you… are you alright?"

Emir swallowed a sob.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He looked up at the sky, blinking rapidly.

"Ah—It's raining… It's a terrible day for rain…"

Lyra frowned.

"It… isn't?"

Emir laughed, short and bitter.

"No, no… it's raining, all right."

He wasn't saddened by this.

By the time of his death, at least Amon would be there, waiting for him in hell.

{No Longer Friends}

Emir didn't even get a chance to mourn.

Because Isaac came for him.

Blaming him for Amon's death.

And maybe?

Maybe he was right.

But Emir wouldn't apologize.

Not now. Not ever.

Because what was done was done.

{New Home}

They had nowhere to go so they descended into the Underbelly.

A place where the worst of the worst thrived.

But it was different this time.

Something Major happened.

At first, it was small.

A few nobodies dead in an alley.

A couple of low-level gangs wiped out.

It was dismissed as nothing but skirmishes.

But then, one day, Keira slaughtered many of them.

It was her lashing out at the ones that had massacred her gang.

She killed the ones who thought they ran the underworld.

Much of the Underbelly choked on its own blood.

It was an all-out war.

All because of one little push.

The Mad Hounds made their home there.

{All Out War}

The war didn't slow down. It escalated.

Ballistic missiles rained down. Sectors burned.

Civilians fled. Monster nests were wiped out.

It was no longer about survival.

It was about annihilation.

And in the middle of it all?

Emir.

He fought alongside the UEF Army, hiding beneath a mask, playing the role of a criminal mercenary.

The UEF was desperate. They took anyone.

And so, the Executioners were born.

His squad. His people.

Infamous. Cursed.

Every handler assigned to them—every Netweaver—dead.

Not from battle. Not from combat.

They all killed themselves.

Connecting to Emir's mind was too much.

And yet, the war continued with them in leading it.

Emir was doing that on purpose.

But it wasn't willy-nilly. He had targets.

The traitors inside the UEF. The ones who sold out the world.

{Facing Them}

The war was just a distraction.

The real battle was at the Ruin.

That's what the Order was after.

And Emir?

He waited for Them.

He fulfilled their objective... only for it to suit him.

{Angel's Assassin}

The first traitor was easy to find.

Hard to kill.

But Emir did.

A silent blade. A single breath.

The man was gone. Erased from the world like he had never existed.

{Public Execution}

The second?

A public execution.

In the middle of a high-class restaurant, deep in the Upper District.

Emir walked in.

He didn't hide. He didn't sneak.

His target sat there, sipping fine wine, laughing with his peers.

Emir walked up to him and shot him in the head.

Silence.

The elites around him froze.

And then chaos. The UEF Guard came rushing in.

But his men were already on them.

They left before reinforcements arrived.

{Scandal Concerto}

The last one?

He went after him in the middle of a dance.

A grand banquet. A hall filled with Elites.

The music played. The wine flowed.

And Emir joined the dance.

He moved through the crowd, his presence unnoticed.

A knife slid between ribs. A whisper in an ear.

"This is for my father."

The man collapsed.

The dance continued.

Emir vanished.

And the scandal of the century had ended.

{The Deep}

Beneath all of this, something was stirring.

Something monstrous.

In The Deep, a Behemoth was about to be born.

A creature that would have ended everything.

Knowledge courtesy of the 'novel.'

But Emir didn't wait.

He went down there himself.

And he killed it before it could even rise.

{Primordial's Visit}

Emir finally slept.

After all the blood, the death, the war—after slaying the Behemoth in the Deep, after solidifying his status as a Seraphim High Lord—Emir finally allowed himself a moment of rest.

His mind, his body, his soul—all exhausted.

And yet, even in sleep, there was no peace.

He expected nightmares.

The usual ones. Fire. Screams. Betrayal.

But instead... she appeared.

The Lady of Time.

A figure outside the threads of fate. Eternal. Untouchable.

Emir stared at her. Annoyed. Suspicious. Wary.

"What do you want?"

'She' didn't answer.

And then, without warning, he was somewhere else.

A void.

A nothingness.

And in that emptiness, he saw something impossible—

Himself.

Older. Different. A version of him that had already lived through everything.

A future Emir standing before the Lady of Time, asking her for something.

{The Name He Gave Himself}

The older Emir spoke with her. His voice was calm. Resigned.

"I want to go back."

"Back to where?"

"To my father. Oliver."

The name echoed in the void.

Sure enough, he was sent back in time.

His father was still alive. Still breathing.

But he was surrounded by death.

Emir—the one watching—felt something twist in his chest.

He watched himself dive into his Father's soul.

He reached for the Corruption lurking inside his father's body, twisting it, influencing it, setting it loose—in an instant, Oliver became a monster.

A beast of rage and vengeance, tearing apart everything that stood in his way.

But once the battle ended—once the blood settled—Haydar looked up…

And saw his own son standing before him.

Emir acted like he had just saved him.

He knew that Oliver didn't know what he did.

"Go."

Emir told him.

"There's a portal nearby. You stay here, you die. And if you die, our family dies."

Oliver hesitated. He didn't want to leave.

He couldn't leave his damn FAMILY behind.

"GO... NAME YOUR CHILD EMIR."

Emir commanded him.

Announced his authority over him.

And just like that, Oliver had no choice but to obey.

Emir—the one watching all of this unfold—felt his mind unravel.

He had influenced his own birth.

He had named himself.

He created his own fate.

And now, he watched the future him visit the past current him.

Back when he was a baby.

He watched the future him watch the past him.

All three selves existed in the same time in the same place.

So, as he watched his headless self interact with the Lady of Time...

'How can I kill you?'

The future him replaced 'Her.'

"Heavy…. Your question was incredibly heavy. But I should've expected this from Sultan's blood."

He sounded a chuckle, and it soon began increasing in volume until his every laugh resembled a chorus of deranged opera singers.

"…Although expected, seeing it happen in front of my very eyes makes me so incredibly happy."

'...'

{A Fate of Seven Hundred and Seventy-Seven Million}

Emir couldn't wrap his head around it.

He became Starless?

He created his own fate?

It was insane. Impossible.

And yet… the dream made sense now.

Things were finally clearing up.

Emir couldn't help but wonder why 'She' helped the other him, but perhaps it was because he had a relation to the Sultan of The Sands, a fellow Primordial.

But the real question wasn't about him or 'Him.'

It wasn't about fate, or power, or time loops.

It was about 'Her.'

The Lady of Time.

"Why did you help me?"

'She' tilted 'Her' head, as if amused by the question.

And then 'She' showed him.

The future.

The Emir who had failed to save his family.

Not once. Not twice.

He had failed seven hundred and seventy-seven million times.

And in every single fate, his family died.

Every single time.

Until finally, he saw the only way out.

The only path where his family lived.

He had to begin the fight before he was even born.

Urge his own birth. Change fate entirely.

That was why he went back.

That was why he met Haydar.

That was why he influenced his own past.

Because it was the only way.

The only future where he could win.

The Lady of Time knew all of this.

She had seen what would happen if she didn't intervene.

She had seen what would happen if his family died.

The destruction that would follow.

The chaos he would bring.

So she had only one choice:

Make him stronger, faster.

Prepare him.

And now, as Emir stood before Her, he asked the only question that mattered:

"How do I save my family?"

The Lady of Time's answer was simple.

"Kill Solis."

{Tattoos}

When Emir woke up, his body felt different.

Something had changed.

Something deep, something etched into his very being.

He sat up, his hand instinctively reaching for his arm—and froze.

Black markings slithered across his skin. Runes. Words.

A script written in an unknown language, yet one he understood instinctively.

At first, he thought it was some side effect of the dream—the one where he died an uncountable times.

But no, this was something else.

This was power.

The tattoos didn't give him abilities directly. Not in the way he'd expect.

But something in him had unlocked.

His Aether Overdrive—his once overwhelming, redundant burst of power—was corrupted. Changed.

Now, when he activated it, the runes would shift. Black script would crawl across his body, rewriting his reality.

Text of Corruption.

A fusion of his Author's Eyes, his runic reading ability, and the sheer force of Aether itself.

{Fatal Attraction}

Magnus had trained a man for years.

Built him. Molded him. Prepared him for one purpose.

And then, at the very end, he abandoned him.

For Emir.

And now, he wanted revenge.

He wasn't driven by hatred. Not entirely.

No, this was something much deeper.

Fear.

He feared Emir. His strength. His knowledge. The way he always seemed one step ahead, like he could see the story before it was written.

So he wouldn't fight him head-on.

No, that would be suicide.

He would attack from the shadows. From the unknown.

And he knew exactly how to drag Emir out.

The man revealed himself as Amon's killer.

He was the one who had created the poison.

He was the one who led to Amon's death.

Emir saw blood red.

No one could stop him.

No one could hold him back.

He hunted the man down.

And when he finally found him, he killed him.

But, of course... it was a trap.

{Last Prayer}

"Hey… tell me, what is this place called?"

Emir's voice was calm. Too calm.

The leader of the men surrounding him sneered.

"Why the fuck—"

"Tell me."

Emir's eyes darkened—ink swallowing ink.

The man hesitated. Flinched.

"…————."

"Hm… is there another name for it?"

"I already—"

A shadow of death rose behind Emir.

The man swallowed.

"Is there?"

A long pause. A stuttering breath.

"K-Kar Bal or something."

"Kar Babel?"

"Y-Yeah."

Emir nodded. Looked up.

He smiled.

'Ah…'

The promised day was upon him.

He knew it.

He was going to die.

Self-fulfilling prophecy.

Fate.

He didn't know.

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The universe had a twisted sense of humor.

It wanted him to feel the same pain again.

Skewered alive.

And then, a shadow passed overhead.

A missile.

Directly above him.

Lyra was watching the live feed.

She could do nothing.

She screamed, but it was useless.

He was too far.

And then—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Her connection to him vanished.

Panic. Chaos. Pandemonium.

This wasn't Thursday.

This wasn't the time for the gathering.

He couldn't pull that trick again like with Judas.

Emir had sacrificed everything to reach this point.

But in his eyes... he had only lost one thing.

His humanity.

Some would say he never really had it.

But now…

None of it mattered.

Not anymore.

Because his promised death had arrived.

A death set in stone.

A fate that the Oracle had foretold.

And a starless night that witnessed it all unfold.

[End of Volume 4: Carved In Fate's Stone]