OLD-WORLD EXTRA

Chapter 23: Long Night II

As the battle raged on, Emir's movements became a breathtaking display of combat prowess.

His footwork danced with perfect synchrony, and his body weaved and dodged with astonishing speed and accuracy.

The knives of his adversaries moved in slow motion compared to his own strikes, not only due to his TDS ability but also his skill.

Emir's knife was an extension of his arm, an instrument of swift and precise death.

It slashed through the air, leaving trails of crimson in its wake.

His wrist flicked effortlessly, allowing him to change angles and deliver devastating slashes to his opponents.

With each strike, he found vulnerable spots on his adversaries' bodies, causing fatal wounds that brought them crashing to the ground, their lives extinguished.

His sharp and unwavering eyes scanned the chaotic room, anticipating the next move of his enemies.

His light and nimble footwork carried him effortlessly through the chaos, allowing him to glide between opponents, his knife cutting through the air in deadly arcs.

He moved while always a step ahead, exploiting every opening.

The fatigue from his previous fight continued to weigh him down but was pushed aside by sheer willpower and adrenaline.

His mind was a well-oiled machine, calculating and executing each move with lethal efficiency.

With every opponent that fell beneath his blade, Emir's confidence swelled, as he was simply letting loose, killing all that he sees.

He knew the risks and consequences of a single misstep, but he didn't allow that doubt to creep into his mind.

After killing another of their members, he then focused his attention on the leader, the one who had sent the boy after him.

Their leader was watching the fight with a sneer on his face, as if he was enjoying the spectacle.

'You won't be enjoying yourself for too long, friend,' Emir thought as he charged at him, knife poised to strike.

The leader scrambled to his feet and lunged, his knife aimed at Emir's heart.

Emir sidestepped with a hair's breadth of distance, the blade narrowly missing its mark.

In a single fluid motion, he slashed forward, his arm extending, and the knife found its destination, slicing his opponent's neck.

A gasp escaped the leader's lips before his head rolled off his shoulders, life ebbing away, silenced forever.

The room fell silent, except for the sound of Emir's heavy breathing.

He looked around at the bodies lying on the ground, their blood staining the floor.

It was a gruesome sight, but it had to be done.

Emir took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

He was no stranger to combat, having been in numerous fights before.

However, this particular battle had taken a toll on him, not because of the adversaries' skill or their overwhelming numbers, but due to the sheer volume of lives he had taken.

He looked around at the remaining members of the group, who were staring at him in shock and fear.

"I suggest you all leave," he said, his voice cold and menacing.

"And don't ever cross me again."

They scrambled to their feet, fear etched across their faces, and frantically tried to flee the room.

'We can't have them live now, can we?'

But Emir, with silent determination, swiftly closed the distance, his knife gleaming ominously in the dimly lit room.

As the first fleeing figure reached the doorway, Emir lunged forward, his body a blur of motion.

His right arm extended with the knife slicing through the air, finding its mark in the back of the unsuspecting individual.

A strangled gasp escaped their lips as they collapsed to the floor, life slipping away from them.

The remaining members, realizing the dire situation, turned to face Emir, their eyes widened with terror.

But it was too late.

Emir's instincts took over, and he rushed forward, each step calculated and purposeful, closing the gap between him and his next target.

With a swift sidestep, Emir evaded a desperate swing of a knife aimed at his throat.

He retaliated with a ruthless thrust of his own, his arm extending with a surgeon's precision.

The blade found its mark, plunging into the chest of the assailant.

A guttural cry of pain filled the room as they crumpled to the ground.

The room then became filled with chaos, screams, and the desperate clatter of footsteps.

Emir was unfazed however, as he moved, tracking down each fleeing adversary one by one, his strikes a symphony of violence.

His training allowed him to exploit every opening, every moment of vulnerability, and they gave him the biggest opening by showing their backs to him.

As another adversary tried to escape through a narrow passage, Emir anticipated their path and swiftly closed in.

He lunged at them from behind, his arm arcing forward, the knife flashing in the dim light.

The blade found its mark, severing the vital arteries in their neck.

Blood sprayed, painting the walls in macabre patterns as their life force ebbed away.

Emir pursued the final escaping victim.

Cornered and gasping for breath, they turned to face him, desperation etched across their face.

But their resistance was futile.

Emir closed in, and his knife struck, finding its mark in their chest.

Their scream pierced the air, mingling with the chorus of anguish that had filled the room.

Finally, only one was left alive, a single man was cowering in fear, hiding away in the corner of the room.

'Let's see what I can get from you,' Emir thought as he grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back to the room where they were moments before they all died.

Throwing him on a chair, Emir looked at the broken man, his eyes filled with fear as he stared up at him.

"Why did you send that kid after me?" Emir asked, his voice low and menacing.

The man trembled in his grip, but refused to answer.

Emir pressed the tip of his knife against his throat.

"Speak," he growled.

The man stammered, finally revealing the truth.

"We were hired to take you out," he said.

"Someone wanted you dead."

"Who?" Emir demanded, pressing the knife a little harder against his skin.

"I don't know," the man whimpered.

"...I swear, I don't know."

Emir considered his words for a moment before finally nodding.

"Alright, I believe you."

The man let out a sigh of relief, thinking that he was going to be spared.

But Emir had other plans.

He couldn't let him live, not after going against him.

"I promise I won't tell anyone." He pleaded.

"I know," Emir said with a smile.

"But that's not good enough..."

"You and your people forced me to this, if you didn't accept that hit job, none of this would have happened today, you all wouldn't have died... Don't blame me for your death, blame your leader."

Just as he finished talking, Emir swung his knife, slicing the man's neck, not even allowing him to speak his final words.

Stepping back amidst the fallen, he cast his gaze upon the lifeless body sprawled before him.

His chest heaved with exertion, yet his body was untainted by the battle, save for the blood staining his hands and the victorious gleam in his eyes.

With a mix of anguish and defiance, he looked at minced-up bodies around him, a silent testament to the consequences of his actions.

It was a necessary evil, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

'I'd kill for a cig... But I guess I already did...' He thought while letting out a sigh.

"Just... Why? What twisted being sent me here? …What twisted game are they playing?" He breathed.

"Fucking Dumbasses! Goddammit!" He roared, irritation boiling up inside of him.

"Damn you... DAMN YOU ALL FOR FORCING MY HAND!!" He bellowed, his voice reverberating through the room as he lashed out, delivering a powerful kick to the chair before him.

It soared through the air, crashing violently into the wall.

In the aftermath, a solemn calm settled over him, a stark reminder of the lengths he was willing to go to survive, and the fact that he would have to get used to this sooner than later.

Emir then cleaned up the scene as best he could, erasing any evidence of him being there, as he wiped his knife clean on a dead man's shirt and sheathed it while heading towards their leader.

'Let's see what you've got over here...' he thought while checking his body.

He retrieved a piece of paper from the leader's pocket, confirming what that man said.

'So, another one, huh? Well, he didn't lie at least.'

It was a hit job, and Emir was the target, but now the tables have turned.

Emir was the hunter, and they were the prey.

…

After a few minutes of going around, checking their bodies, and confirming that all were dead, Emir left the building, making his way back to the boy who was waiting outside.

The boy looked at him with a mix of fear and awe, as if he couldn't believe what he had just witnessed.

"You're amazing." He said quietly.

Emir shrugged.

"It's just what I do..."

"But... Are you alright?" The boy asked.

"Got an itch in the back of my throat only a 12 gauge can reach but besides that, I'm fine..." Emir said with a snicker.

"Anyways, let's go. We need to get you home."

He nodded silently, and they set off back towards the slums.

'Two hits in one night, a bit wild for my first day as a hunter... But oh well, experience is what I want, so please keep them coming.' Emir mused to himself, not realizing that his hand was still shaking due to the mental anguish he had gone through.

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