OLD-WORLD EXTRA-Chapter 532: Love Letters

Emir wasn't sure if he was dreaming or if the dream was real.

Either way, he saw something.

A future. His future.

Letters stretched out endlessly before him, like invitations to moments yet to come.

He stepped forward and reached for the first one, 'opening' it.

{Banquet}

The letter unfolded a scene. A future that was his—but not for long.

Jamal and Kalahari? Dating. Not exactly shocking, but still, huh. Jamal casually dropped that little bomb while driving Emir to some high-class banquet, making it sound like he was mentioning the weather.

The banquet itself? Typical Elite nonsense. Handshakes, small talk, professors discussing things that barely mattered. Emir played along, caught up with his students, and did what was expected of him.

But here's the kicker—there was going to be an attack.

Only, Emir wasn't the one being attacked.

He was the one doing the attacking.

Well… more like stealing. The whole reason he was there was to map out the security, and if his intel was right, the building's layout was a near-copy of an auction house on Mars. Meaning? He already knew the security measures.

Oh, and about those attackers from Templar? Yeah, they were supposed to crash the party, but Emir had already taken care of them before they even got the chance.

With a smirk, he let go of the letter.

Another one called to him.

{Arsene Lapin}

...Like A Man

A heist. But not just any heist—one designed to give life to a new identity.

Mad Hound.

That was the name Emir had crafted. A name that would start surfacing in the criminal underworld. A fallback. A contingency. If things ever went sideways and he needed to disappear, Mad Hound was his out.

But Emir never worked alone.

Lyra? She went by Plus One.

Kiera? She was the perfect bait, playing Max, the son of Ignatius Blackwood, like a damn fiddle. All it took was a little push—some carefully placed words, a bit of charm—and suddenly, Max was unknowingly handing them inside information about his own family.

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The Blackwoods had been running a neat little scam: selling relics to hunters, then drowning them in so much debt that they became obedient little soldiers. Emir and his crew? They were about to tear that whole system apart.

It was dumb fun to an outside perspective, watching an arrogant but depressed kid stumble over himself for a girl he just began to know.

His thoughts were all over the place.

[I haven't changed… Because… I can't even ask a girl her name! How do you ask someone's name? Why do I want to know her name? Why would an Elite ask a commoner her name? WHAT'S A NAME?]

Right. It seemed that his crush on Safira was a passing thing... or was it?

The boy himself didn't know.

Max, went to his mother, asking too many questions about the family business. A chip in his pocket ensured that every word was heard.

Meanwhile, Ragnar had gone undercover as a financial expert. And because people like Ignatius Blackwood were predictable as hell, Emir helped speed up the process by calling Blackwood's current financial expert and feeding him some paranoia.

"Hey, someone's trying to scam your boss."

Result? The expert warned Blackwood to stay far away from this 'Ragnar guy.'

So, naturally, Ignatius did the opposite.

He hired Ragnar.

And just like that, Emir's crew had their ticket into the Blackwood family's inner circle.

With Ragnar embedded in the Blackwood ranks, the rest of the team slipped in.

Kiera, Nathan, Jake, and Emma? They used Ragnar's access to get through the back doors of the auction house.

Meanwhile, Emir and Lyra? They played the part of high-class nobodies.

Emir, flashing around Black Cards like candy, made sure the room saw him. Meanwhile, Lyra worked her magic, hacking databases to make them appear as hidden heirs of the Blackwood Family.

Checks were run. Backgrounds were verified.

No red flags. No doubts.

And so, when the real auction began, they had front-row seats.

Now, you'd think the priciest item would be some legendary relic or high-tech weapon.

Nope.

It was human-made art.

Handcrafted, untouched by AI, and somehow worth more than an entire planet. A ridiculous waste of money, but hey, rich people were weird.

But Emir wasn't there for the art. He was there for one thing—a ring.

When they won the bid, they were taken to the back for the final verification. Standard protocol. Buyers got one last look before payment was confirmed.

That's when the rest of the team moved.

Ragnar, Kiera, Nathan, Jake, and Emma stormed in. Guns out. Orders shouted. Chaos unleashed.

And Emir? He played the part of the victim.

A weak attempt at fighting back. A carefully timed struggle.

Then, in the mess of it all—he made the switch.

Jamal's crafted fake replaced the real ring. The actual relic found its way into Ragnar's hands.

The team escaped, leaving Emir and Lyra 'unconscious' for the guards to find.

When they woke up, they did exactly what angry rich people should do—caused a scene.

Emir yelled. Lyra fumed. They demanded compensation, refused to be calmed down, and put so much pressure on the auction house that one of their higher-ups finally caved.

"If necessary, the faction head himself will—"

"Fuck off."

Emir stormed out.

And while the auction house scrambled to salvage their reputation, while the guards scrambled to track down the 'thieves,' while everyone else thought the ring was still somewhere in that building…

The real one was already long gone.

And their only lead?

The Blackwood Family.

{Fate Came Knocking}

Emir knew.

He knew this was the moment. The scene where he and his family were supposed to die.

But no. Not today.

He kept up the act, pretending nothing was off. No sudden moves. No paranoia. He played it cool because the second his enemies sensed something was wrong, they'd scatter like cockroaches. And Emir? He wanted them all in one place.

So, he flipped the script.

Instead of waiting for death, he baited them out.

That's why he started teaching his students Aether control in a… unique way.

Parkour.

Yeah. Parkour.

Emir had his army on standby, waiting on his command.

He was ready.

{Parkour}

One second, they were in class. The next? Running over rooftops like they were in some high-budget action flick.

Buildings, ledges, walls—nothing was off-limits. They pushed their bodies to the limit, Aether coursing through their limbs as they moved.

At first? Chaos. Stumbles, crashes, and near-death experiences.

But then, the magic happened.

They got used to it. Some even started showing off.

Kipas—where they launched off ledges like cheetahs.Prims—two-legged jumps straight to the next platform.Ticktaks—wall-jumping into the next landing spot.

And the roof gaps? Oh man, that was their favorite.

They lived for that rush, like they were stunt doubles in a movie.

But what they didn't know was that Emir wasn't doing this just for training.

This was a setup. A trap.

Templar and the Liberation Army were planning to hit the Academy, kidnap the Elites, turn the whole thing into chaos.

But Emir had already flipped the script.

He took the fight outside before they even knew what was happening.

{Dumbasses}

Emir expected enemies.

He did not expect dumbasses.

Some street thugs saw his students—dressed in their fancy Academy uniforms—and assumed they were easy targets.

Big mistake.

They cornered one of the smaller groups, trying to rob them.

Emir took one look at them and just started laughing.

"Oh, finally," he cracked his neck, grinning. "I can let loose for a bit."

They had no idea what was coming.

{His Heartbeat}

The dumbasses were the warm-up.

The real fight? Celestials. A whole squad of them.

They came fast, weapons drawn.

Emir was there—intercepting them, shielding his students, striking before they could.

But the last group he reached? Aria's.

And it was just in time.

One of the Celestials, stronger than the rest, was about to take them out—until Emir grabbed Aria and flew out of range in a split second.

Her breath hitched.

Not because of the attack.

Because she recognized something.

His heartbeat.

That same, steady, monotone rhythm.

The heartbeat of the man who kidnapped her.

Her eyes widened in realization.

"You."

Emir didn't even look at her.

"Later."

Right now, there were bigger problems.

{Where Is He?}

After the dust settled, Emir did a headcount.

Something was off.

Someone was missing.

Elijah.

They took Elijah.

Templar wanted Emir alone. Isolated. Vulnerable. And taking Elijah? That was their play.

Only…

Elijah wasn't worried.

He was smiling.

"The hell are you smiling about?"

One of his captors asked.

"..."

Elijah tilted his head.

"Do you even know what's happening right now?"

"…Yeah."

The captor scoffed.

"Then why—"

"I swear, if you touch a single hair on my head, you and everyone you know won't see the next light of day."

The guy hesitated.

"How would they—"

"Look."

Elijah sighed, rolling his eyes.

"If there's one thing I know, it's that my brothers are on their way. Right. Now."

Silence.

"If you think I'm crazy…" He smirked. "Just wait till you meet them."

Elijah wasn't bluffing.

Emir and Ragnar were already moving.

And they weren't alone.

Azazel was with them.

This wasn't going to be a rescue mission.

This was going to be a war.

"We're bad men."

Emir cracked his knuckles.

Ragnar grinned.

"But we ain't them."