OBS Chapter 524: ᛈᛜᛞᛎᚬ ᚾᛃᛂᛊ ᚾᛜ ᛞᛎᚬ
Chapter 524: ᛈᛜᛞᛎᚬ ᚾᛃᛂᛊ ᚾᛜ ᛞᛎᚬ
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.]
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.
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..."