OLD-WORLD EXTRA-Chapter 540: Love Letters X

{Forgotten Stranger In Lands of Wisps}

The final section.

Emir stepped forward.

He had entered that place.

A land untouched by time, where the air shimmered with the glow of unseen spirits. Wisps danced in the twilight, whispering nightmares.

A place that wasn't meant to be reached.

Yet here he was.

Here, he would be forgotten.

Here, he would disappear.

It rained.

Of course it rained.

The sky itself mourned him.

At Emir's funeral, they came one by one.

Some spoke. Some couldn't.

Lily clawed at his casket, fingers bleeding, nails cracking, begging for him to come back.

Laura just stared.

At nothing.

Her puffy, swollen eyes said enough.

She had cried herself to sleep every night.

When everyone left, Laura stayed.

She knelt beside where his head should have been.

And she kissed the ground.

And she wept.

Lyra took it the worst.

She shut down. Literally.

She disabled every system she could, every function.

She couldn't handle it.

For days, she searched.

She left no stone unturned. No grain. No atom.

Any sign—anything—that he had survived.

And yet…

Nothing.

Still, she left one path open.

A single way for her to be contacted.

She gave the [key] to Laura and Lily.

Because they were the only ones she trusted.

Because she loved them.

And because she knew…

They would only wake her up if it was about him.

{Like a Cigarette}

Ragnar stared at Emir's image.

Like chain smokers staring at his last cigarette.

He didn't say a single word.

There was nothing left to say.

{Lost}

They were all lost.

Elijah. Sofia. Quinn. Aria. Ava. Junior. Max.

All of them. His students. His people.

And they weren't the only ones.

Faye lost her father.

Again.

Not once.

Not twice.

But thrice.

First, her biological father.

Then, Longshot.

And now… Emir.

The fate he dreaded for her—the fate he fought against— had come true.

She was alone.

Magnus, strangely, was indifferent.

A subject he had poured so much into.

A subject he lost.

And Solis…

Solis was angry.

Furious.

Enraged that Emir was taken from him.

Because Emir was supposed to be his ticket to heaven.

{Lonely Night}

The family met up.

But it was a lonely night.

A night that felt wrong without him.

They gathered in silence, unspoken grief hanging between them.

And then... Nathan noticed.

Emir's Will.

It had been recently updated.

A sinking feeling settled over them as they read the new message.

[I'm not dead yet, you dumbasses.]

Silence.

They read another.

[I didn't have much time to tell Ly all of this, so I opted for this instead.]

Laura's breath hitched.

His words—even in text, it was him.

But then, if this was his last message…

Where the Hell was he?

{Archons}

The gathering began.

They spoke of the Archons.

"Why do you think there aren't many of us?"

The answer was simple.

To rank up, one needed godhood.

And to receive godhood?

You had to consume the Aether Cores of other Archons.

But that was impossible for most.

How could a mere Seraphim kill an Archon?

There was only one other way.

A trial.

One of the Eight Gods could grant you a trial.

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If you won, you became their believer.

And with belief came a Blessing.

This Blessing was a Unique Ability.

The four Archons on Earth?

They had received Aether Cores from the Order.

They had never taken the trials.

Only Amon had known about them.

Because he was a believer.

Because his transformation wasn't just strength—it was a blessing.

"Payment is always exacted for what is bestowed."

Emir was once given a true name.

A name of his path, his Specialization.

But when he tried to process it—

Static.

Blurred.

Muffled.

Unreadable.

Because he hadn't reached godhood.

Because he hadn't gained the privilege.

Only then would he see the truth.

Only then would he glimpse the laws of the universe.

{A Last Card}

This was it.

His final play.

He hadn't planned this.

He hadn't written it beforehand.

But in that moment, as the world crashed down, as his link to his family was about to be severed, his final moments became as a message.

One that made the public—the world—believe that this was where Emir had truly...

Died.

{Azazel's Reincarnation}

The moment Emir's soul left his body, it did not go where he expected it to.

No afterlife. No final rest. Instead, it drifted toward the Astral Nexus.

The universe's core.

And there... they were waiting.

Amon.

Longshot.Alex.Kiera's gang.

People he had lost. People who had died long before him.

Their reactions were immediate.

"The hell are you doing here?"

"You shouldn't be here."

"Go back."

"Son. Listen to me and leave here."

But it was Longshot who was the loudest.

"You should go, boss man. My daughter is still out there. You ain't staying here."

They talked. They argued.

But in the end, he left.

The moment he did, the memory of it vanished.

{The Sultan of the Sands}

The next thing he knew, he was standing at the bottom of a dune.

And before him was the Sultan of the Sands.

A Primordial.

A being so powerful that his very presence made the world tremble.

This was it.

The Trial.

And this one…

This wasn't about battle.

This wasn't about strength.

It was about embodiment.

The Celestial's Act.

A recreation of another time. Another place. Another life.

A Land of Wisps.

The difficulty could be chosen.

Easy.Hard.Impossible.

And then—

One final option.

Hell.

And Emir?

He chose that.

The Sultan's voice echoed:

"You will suffer."

"You will plead."

"You will die."

And Emir only smiled.

"Let's begin."

{The Cohort}

Emir was given a choice.

It was simple yet cruel.

Two marks. Or two companions.

Each mark meant a retry. A second life.

Each companion meant… well, they'd suffer with him.

Emir took a breath.

"Two companions. One mark."

And just like that—

Lyra and Ragnar were coming with him.

'He' smiled.

Not in kindness. Not in malice.

Just… knowing.

"You will regret that choice."

Emir looked at 'Him.'

His gaze unwavering.

"I already do."

"But it doesn't matter anymore."

A gift.

That's what 'He' was offering.

A boon. A blessing.

Something only Emir could ask for.

And yet—

"No need."

"If you really want to help me… just make sure the reward is worth it."

And 'He' just smiled.

"Smart."

Then the world blurred, and everything faded away.

{The Watcher in the Void}

The others wouldn't know.

Not until it was time.

Not until they reached his rank.

They needed to be strong enough to even enter.

And that…

That would take a long, long time.

Emir would watch.

He would wait.

Watching them suffer. Watching them struggle.

Watching them come so close to death, over and over again.

And yet—

He did not interfere.

Because this was necessary.

Because this was fate.

The Sultan of the Sands warned him.

That he might go insane in the Void.

That the endless nothingness would break him.

And all Emir said was—

"That's fine."

And so, he trained.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Upgrading his abilities. Sharpening them. Refining them.

Until finally—

They reached the rank required.

And at long last—

The door opened.

{A World Shattered}

The land he entered—

It was wrong.

A place where the laws of reality were fractured beyond recognition.

Where physics, magic, and Aether bled together in a twisted, fragmented mess.

Where four seasons cycled in a single day.

Morning: Spring.Afternoon: Summer.Evening: Autumn.Night: Winter.

And Winter…

Winter reached temperatures below absolute zero.

A place where existence itself was unstable.

And within this madness—

He found them.

The Celestials.

Those who had entered before him.

Those who had survived—

But never escaped.

They had built a kingdom here.

A kingdom of the lost.

The ones who failed.

And many of them had died.

And yet... many still remained.

{TombGrounds}

The world they stepped into was red.

Not just in color but in feeling.

Like blood smeared across the sky.

Like the very air was stained with something wrong.

The land itself was a graveyard.

A city of tombs, stretching endlessly.

And before they even had time to process it—

The Depraved attacked.

Twisted figures. Corrupted beyond reason.

Some were mad. Some were starved.

Some were just waiting for something fresh to enter their ruined world.

And all of them?

Wrong.

{Horror}

Beyond the TombGrounds, the land only got worse.

A swamp of blood.

Not water.

Blood.

Thick. Stagnant. Bubbling.

And in the middle of it, a shack.

A single, broken shack.

Something lived there.

Something that spoke.

"You're new."

"Doesn't matter. You'll die soon, anyway."

The being inside knew things.

About the Depraved.

About the strongest of them.

And what it told them was worse than they expected.

"They used to be Archons, you know."

"Not quite gods. Not quite mortal."

"Half-baked. Rotting from corruption. Fighting each other until there's nothing left."

And then, as they were about to leave... it gave one final warning.

"Stay quiet when you get there."

"It can't see you either."

{Hanged Man}

It stood at the center of the realm.

A tree.

Or at least... it used to be.

Now, its branches sagged under the weight of thousands of nooses.

Some empty. Most not. This was where they had come to die.

Where they had ended themselves.

And as Emir stepped closer...

The loop began.

They started killing each other.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

{Trapped In Limbo}

At first, it was just tension. Nothing obvious, nothing to be alarmed about. A few cold stares, a few clipped words. That was normal. Stress could do that.

Then came the resentment.

Then came the hate.

The kind of hate that seeped into their bones, made them flinch at each other's voices, made them imagine—just for a second—how much quieter things would be without the others.

And then—

Someone killed someone.

And nobody reacted.

Nobody screamed. Nobody broke down.

It just... happened.

And then it kept happening.

Over. And over. And over.

They wished for each other's deaths in gruesome, twisted ways.

They smiled at the thought. Relished it.

And then there was Emir.

When he got corrupted, it wasn't just bad. It was instant death.

For everyone. Every time.

The worst part?

He didn't even realize it.

Because unlike the rest of them—unlike Lyra, unlike Rag—he had a mark.

They died, over and over. They were thrown back, over and over.

And every time, they started remembering more.

Until, one by one, they all figured it out.

Without him.

The loops.

The hatred.

The final boss.

Emir.

{Slay The Prince}

Lyra had never thought of Emir as her enemy and never imagined she ever would.

Never.

The loop twisted everything.

Survival became a cruel game.

Betrayal felt like common sense.

Instinct and logic clashed until nothing made sense anymore.

It was a war, but not the kind fought with swords.

No—this war was about choices.

Survival. Instinct told them to lash out, to defend themselves, even against the ones they loved. To consume before being consumed. If they gave in, they would devour each other—one of them would cease to exist, erased by the other's desperate will to live.

Betrayal. If they chose wit over instinct, they could outmaneuver, outthink, outplay. But the moment love became a game, someone would always lose.

Skepticism. If logic ruled, they would keep their distance, never risking the pain of closeness.

Blind devotion. If they gave in to emotion alone, they wouldn't love the person—just the idea of them.

Rivalry. If they fought too hard, if neither bent, the struggle would never end.

Submission. If one side never fought back, there would be nothing left of them.

Too much of any one thing, and their love would rot.

Too much fear, and their freedom would be lost.

Too much longing, and reality would slip away.

Too much pain, and they would stop recognizing each other.

And Lyra understood.

She understood it all as she stood before him.

Emir was already lost. Corrupted. Twisted into something he wasn't. The loop made him the final obstacle, the final monster to slay.

And yet—

Even after everything.

Even after the hatred, the madness, the death.

She still loved him.

Every time she failed, she knelt by a puddle of water.

And in that reflection, she saw herself.

The contradictions. The fears. The truth.

And every time, she learned.

Not just about herself.

Not just about him.

But about what they were.

What they would always be.

So she would slay the prince.

Because that's what love was.