Chapter 482: Buried Alive

Chapter 482: Buried Alive



Emir regarded Amon with a measured expression, much more than usual, as if he was on guard.

"I'm perfectly fine. Just tired a little from... handling things."

Amon's brow furrowed, and he took a step closer, his voice lowering.

"Fine, huh? Wouldn't call the loss of an arm 'tired a little' but alright."

It seemed that Emir was right to react that way as Amon's words were getting a little heated. "What do you want to say?"

Silence responded to his question, and they stared at each other, looking like they were about to fight.

"Shouldn't you be chasing Judas right about now?"

"...You... hahhh."

Amon sighed and looked away, disappointment obvious in his eyes.

"Nothing justifies what you did."

"Maybe."

"...What happens when it's someone important to you? Would you think it's fair to play with lives then?"

A chilling smile crept across Emir's face, devoid of warmth.

"It won't happen. I exist to ensure that."

Frustration crept into Amon's voice as he locked eyes with him again.

"This isn't a game."

"Is it? Your strongest professor thinks otherwise."

"You... you're dragging yourself into unnecessary chaos. It'll tear you apart."

Emir remained unflinching, the intensity of Amon's words rolling off him like water.

"I know it will, but it's what I am, whether I like it or not. I won't change; I can't." Scoffing, he added:

"And you think I'm losing control? Hardly. I'm exactly where I want to be. This chaos creates opportunities. It isn't simply a pit; it's a ladder. I wield it for my own interests. It doesn't move me."

Amon clenched his fists, barely able to hold himself back.

"You think you're invincible? You're just a ticking time bomb. One more slip, and you'll bring everyone down with you."

Emir's gaze darkened, his calm demeanor almost unsettling.

"And what would you have me do? Fight what I am? Become weak? Stand aside and wait for the next disaster? If I-"

Amon cut him off, his voice softening:

"You have to learn how to quill your insanity. Those poor students don't deserve what you've allowed to be done to them."

Emir raised his hand in mocking surrender.

"Those who cannot keep up are expendable. The world is harsh. I'm sure you know that best."

Amon sighed once more, exasperation etched on his face.

"I just... I hate so much about the things you choose to be."

Turning around, the principal disappeared, leaving Emir by his lonesome.

'... Whatever. He doesn't know. His ignorance is to be expected.'

Ticked off, Emir looked at where Amon stood for a few seconds, then walked forward, exiting the room, not bothering to spare Lionheart a glance as he left the station.

...

Not more than a minute later, Emir could be seen approaching an area with the same pace he previously displayed.

The bloodied cloak draped around him flapped softly with each step, the tattered edges brushing against his shoes.

His curved sword was still slung over his shoulder, his remaining arm resting on its hilt.

Around him, the ruin was quiet, a stark contrast to all that had reigned minutes earlier. Emir had passed many scenes of massacres, both monsters and humans.

It was a sorry sight.

But, as anyone would expect, he didn't spare them a second glance.

He previously planned to have some small talk with Lionheart, but since Amon interfered, he had no more time to waste.

The final act of this mini 'arc' was upon him.

A breeding ground of advancement.

And it all started with the three students who had yet to be found.

Max's goons. Arthur's bullies.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

The worst of the lot.

If not for their relation to the red-haired young master, Emir wouldn't have even bothered to save them.

Rather, they were quite fortunate to struggle before their young master, it made saving them much easier.

Shadow Squad reported certain hideous happenings to Max, and if they reached their end, Emir's life might as well have been over; Blackwood's head, Ignatius, would make sure of it.

'Hm.'

Once Emir neared a large rock sitting awkwardly against a column in a corner, he kicked away the dead Templar rats around him and leaned on it.

He then peaked into the tunnel to his right, his senses alert for any signs of movement.

But instead of movement, he picked up on a sound that replaced the silence.

It was muffled but obvious, especially to a hunter like Emir.

"Damn... bastards!"

It was the familiar voice of a male student.

One filtered through rubble, sounding as if it had originated from somewhere deep.

'Found you.'

Emir quickly scanned the area and vanished, reappearing high above on the ceiling, his blade inserted into the metal without a sound, holding him up like a chandelier.

He looked down and the events of the 'novel' unfolded before him.

Five men, all from Templar, stood scattered around a small pit, watching a boy as he dug a person-sized hole with his bare hands.

That was why Emir laughed.

Character development.

A 'named character' was going through that right in front of him.

It was beautiful.

The boy's now pale, raw, and bloodied hands trembled as he continued to dig, each handful of

dirt heavier than the last.

His dead augmented suit tore the more he dug, rubble scratching it apart as they randomly

fell down the claustrophobic pit.

And soon enough, the pit was nearly six feet deep.

"Almost there, big man!"

"Just a bit more, you can do it!"

The soldiers encouraged him to keep going as if it were a fun sport.

"Show us the Pride of the Elite!"

They were right. He could. And did.

While his body barely functioned, trembling nonstop, and his spirit was nonexistent, he dug

himself a resting place.

Max wouldn't allow his body to rot down here in the open.

"Hah!"

With a loud grunt, he threw out the last pieces of debris and fell to his knees, then to his side,

and then finally on his back, eyes staring at the ceiling.

His quick actions surprised the rats as they finally quietened down, only now processing what

they were about to do and who they were about to do it to.

But before they could second guess their purpose, their leader began to send down dirt and

rubble, burying Max alive.

They looked at him with a flinch and slowly copied his actions.

It wasn't long before the rubble was up to his chest, the weight of it pressing down on him

and crushing his broken bones.

""

No cries for help were heard, just near-silent grunts as each handful of the pit returned.

The scene was truly grim. Nothing was funny about it anymore.

A fifteen-year-old child was being buried alive, and he would die a slow, agonizing death,

more so due to his Celestial nature.

Incredible pain would be inflicted, up to a point where even Emir would react to it.

But, even then, he had no intention of intervening to save Max from that pain.

He wasn't going to follow the 'novel.'

Gradual character development be damned, he would force Max to change, to become a

proper soldier... he'd sculpt him through pain.

Emir had no time to coddle him.

It was a twisted, brutally pragmatic way of looking at things, but it could just work.

"Ugh..."

The boy's grunts grew fainter as the rubble continued to encroach upon him, his entire body obscured, leaving only his face.

After a second of hesitation and one more shove, even his head was fully covered.

He could no longer breathe.

They had condemned him to death.

'...It's time.'

And just as that happened, Emir dropped down behind one of the soldiers.

His curved blade flashed, and all five of them were cut down, seemingly at once. Their heads flew and then rolled on the ground, three of them joining Max in his grave.

Their bodies collapsed into the dirt a second later, dead before they even knew it.

Emir, not caring for them one bit, flicked his right hand, conjuring and shooting out a small needle that struck a hidden drone high up in the wall.

It was recording this scene since the beginning for reasons more obvious than any other.

Blackmail.

Purple had them torture the boy not for sadistic pleasure but for personal gain.

Emir had no intention of allowing that to happen.

Sure, it might make things a lot more interesting, chaotic, just what he liked, but it would

make things harder for him and the Academy as a whole.

One simply couldn't imagine the public backlash if even a single image of this scene surfaced.

Especially if its 'intended audience' had received it, the Academy would be under a world of

pressure.

Shaking his head, Emir pointed at it, and a cloak-covered man stepped out of one of the holes

in the walls, landing next to it.

Knowing that it was dealt with, Emir looked back at the pit, and spoke, his voice devoid of

sympathy:

"You've made your bed, boy... Now lay in it."