paranoianovel Chapter 137: Magnus's First Move II
Chapter 137: Magnus's First Move II
Chapter 137: Magnus's First Move II
Two men locked eyes, and a palpable tension filled the air as they sat on opposite sides of the
room.
A handsome man, with jet-black hair and piercing black eyes, exuded an air of confidence.
The man seated across from him, overweight and resembling the epitome of an average salaryman, seemed out of place in the intense atmosphere.
With a deliberate motion, Emir slowly raised his hand, his fingers curling into a subtle gesture that only a celestial would recognize.
It was a mimicry of an attack, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.
Emir's gaze remained fixed Vincent, his lips curling into a sly smile as he observed a flicker of unease cross his face.
The confirmation of his suspicions only fueled his amusement, heightening the tension between them.
The room seemed to grow smaller as the silence stretched on, each man waiting for the other to make a move.
Vincent's eyes began to dart nervously, his heavy breathing betraying his apprehension.
He shifted in his seat, sweat glistening on his forehead as he attempted to maintain composure.
Emir's unwavering gaze bore into him, his expression a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
The weight of the moment hung heavy, the stillness broken only by the distant sound of a clock ticking.
Then out of nowhere, Emir's voice cut through the silence, laced with a hint of amusement: "Caught you off guard, didn't I?"
Vincent let out a defeated sigh, his voice tinged with resignation:
"You got me there, Emir. I almost thought you had a hidden weapon in your possession."
Emir's lips curled into a subtle smile, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief as he thought: 'Oh... So we are playing that game now, are we?'
He set his hand down, signaling an end to their silent confrontation.
"Fair enough," he replied casually, his tone betraying none of the tension that had filled the room moments before.
"Just wanted to scare you a bit. Now, let's start talking business."
And as Emir spoke his next words, his voice took on an ominous quality, reminiscent of death itself:
"Why did you come to our shop?"
His words echoed each a chilling reminder of the consequences that awaited those who dared to cross him.
The room seemed to grow colder, the atmosphere heavy with impending danger.
Vincent visibly trembled, realizing that even under the Elite's banner, he would not be safe from Emir's reach.Nôv(el)B\\jnn
"L-look..."
It was as if a balloon had been popped, causing Vincent to startle, still on edge from the presence of the man before him.
The constant shifts in Emir's demeanor unsettled him even more so, leaving him uncertain of
what might come next.
But then something unexpected happened, something that Vincent never anticipated in all
the ways he had imagined this encounter unfolding.
It was a revelation that hung in the air, unspoken until that moment.
Emir uttered a single name:
"The Order."
And as those two words reached Vincent's ears, a profound sense of dread washed over him.
The meaning behind what he said reverberated through his being, shaking him to his very
core.
It was no longer just a conflict between families; it was a direct confrontation with the Order
itself.
Emir's awareness of the truth had been solidified, and while Vincent acted as if that was the case, now it was confirmed that Emir wouldn't care for anything that happened to him.
But before Vincent could fully process that, another name escaped Emir's lips, one that sent shivers down Vincent's spine for reasons he didn't know of:
"Magnus Valerius."
The moment the name registered in Vincent's mind, his body underwent a grotesque
transformation.
His form disintegrated into a gruesome explosion of gore, with limbs soaring through the air,
and blood splattering the surroundings.
The sheer force of the explosion propelled his dismembered body parts in all directions,
painting the room in a macabre display of horror.
Emir remained seated, with an eerie smile etched on his face, his eyes devoid of color, their depths consumed by an abyss of impenetrable blackness, emanating a chilling intensity as he calmly observed the blood dripping from the demolished couch opposite him.
"If you want war, then war is what you will get."
His voice echoed through the room, as blood continued to drip from every surface.
Pressing the solitary button in the middle of the table, he called out:
"We need cleaning service for room 509, and bring me some of your most expensive desserts.
Put it on Vincent's tab."