OLD-WORLD EXTRA

Chapter 524: ᛈᛜᛞᛎᚬ ᚾᛃᛂᛊ ᚾᛜ ᛞᛎᚬ



Everything happened quickly and quite smoothly after that.

It wasn't unexpected by any means, these kinds of operations were beneath their level.

By sundown, the digital pings in their terminals confirmed Morgiana's success.

The name of Purple's so-called friend flashed in front of them, illuminated by a holoscreen in the middle of the room.

{Bijeli}

Emir grinned, immediately recognizing the pattern.

"We got it."

Ragnar, leaning against the wall near the room's balcony, pushed off and let out a low whistle.

"Girl actually pulled it off."

Judal scoffed and stood up from the couch.

"She's not a massive liability like you."

Stretching his arms, Ragnar did shoot back, a rare occurrence.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm staying here, anyway. Someone needs to cover her escape."

He gave Emir a pointed look before his eyes darted to Judal and Judas, standing a few feet away.

"Guess it's you three now."

Before any of them could reply, Ragnar stepped closer, his Aether flaring around him like a ripple of heat in the air.

A portal shimmered into existence between them, its edges crackling.

Ragnar jerked his chin toward the swirling doorway.

"Go."

Judas didn't wait.

He stepped through without hesitation, his usual arrogance masking any sign of caution. Judal was the same, though he didn't forget to flip off Ragnar as he followed his twin brother.

Emir lingered a second longer, exchanging a knowing look with Ragnar before allowing the portal to swallow him whole.

It spat them out just below the heart of the slums, under the glow of a broken neon sign.

They looked around, identifying their surroundings, and seconds later, Amon's voice buzzed in their minds, more tense than usual:

[Three locations. Divide and search. Bijeli's home, which is near the black market's south gate, a bar he frequents, Last Stand, and a brothel on the outskirts, past the market,

neighboring the casino, Caravan Alcazar.]

[I'll take the house.]

Emir spoke first, calling dibs on what he believed to be the right location, the reason too complicated to list on the fly.

Judal smirked, his features twisting into something mocking.

"Of course, you go for the boring choice."

"You just want the brothel."

"Damn right I do~!"

Judal already turned away, not caring for any clapbacks.

Uncharacteristically, Judas said nothing again and just headed off toward the bar.

Emir looked at them for a little while as their figures became smaller and smaller, disappearing off into the distance, then turned left, following the coordinates he was given.

In no more than three Flash Steps, he reached the house, a three-story building roleplaying as an inn.

The top floors had the makings of a house, but the bottom was designed like a storefront, with swinging saloon doors, large glass windows, and the like.

It was likely an open bar just a few years ago, but as the sector's wealth accumulated to the zero point one percent of people, it shut down as did its competition.

These types of buildings, due to their prime location, were usually purchased by gangs, but it seemed that Purple had beat them to the punch, hiding her little friend here.

And, surprisingly, she hadn't bothered to renovate it at all, which was peculiar-especially considering her... interesting design choices for that underground church.

Its walls were patched with mismatched metal plates, and the windows were smeared with grime.

Breaking in was laughably easy; the door gave way with a single, deliberate push.

It was almost too easy, as if she had given every assassin a free pass to Bijeli's head.

'...Wait.'

Emir's eyes widened slightly and he rushed in, climbing up the stairs, in two steps.

Once he was on the second floor, he sniffed twice and followed the distinct scent of blood. Though it mingled with the acrid scent of burnt ozone, he could not miss the familiar coppery

tang.

It led him to a door, which he immediately smashed through, entering what appeared to be his private room.

'I knew it.'

There, he saw what he expected.

Bijeli's body was slumped against the far wall, his eyes wide open, terrified, almost in

disbelief.

His chest was in ruin, the flesh torn apart with precise cuts.

Emir crouched, studying the wounds.

"Hm... the attacker ended this guy's life in one attack. The cuts..."

His hand reached out and traced the biggest scar, which ran from the top of his left shoulder

to the bottom of his stomach.

"Clean... but why? No torture will work on a dead man... unless..."

Emir pushed the body away, revealing the reason.

Runes written in blood.

臺□□□□□ □□□□ □ □□□

He looked at the arcane for a while, staring, then after a smirk, he reached out to it, wiping it

off with his palm.

The augmented suit automatically cleaned him of the blood, and he stood up.

Emir proceeded to look around, scanning the room, appearing to be searching for something. But... he saw nothing of note. It was just the usual bed, desk, and cupboard combo.

'Hm.'

Closing his eyes, he focused on the smell, and that was when his smirk turned into a smile.

He found something.

The scents of singed hair and scorched fabric lingered, mingling with something else— something faint but distinct.@@novelbin@@

A floral note, cloying and artificial.

It was the killer's perfume.

His brow furrowed as he traced the scent across the room, following the trail out into the

street.

Footsteps joined the trail, extremely faint impressions in the dust, but with his incredibly improved senses, even they couldn't escape him.

Emir followed them through the alleys, going left and right, acting just short of a Guard dog.

An extremely dignified one, sure, but one nevertheless.

The trail led him into the black market, which he entered under a mask, not wanting to be identified by the guards or any others.

The killer mustn't know that he was coming for them.

Unfortunately, however, the trail had reached an end.

Not because there was no more of that floral scent, but because there was too much of it.

He had reached the area near the food stalls, and there, all the scents mixed in together,

making it near impossible even for his senses.

"Just my fucking luck..."