The watch reacted again.
Not subtly.
The tourbillon inside the Royal Oak shuddered, slowed for half a heartbeat, then spun with violent precision—faster than it ever had before. Emrah stopped walking.
His gaze locked onto the car across the gallery.
Bugatti Tourbillon.
The latest model. Untouched. Untamed. A machine born from excess, obsession, and engineering pushed far beyond reason.
"So that's you," Emrah murmured.
The feeling hit him instantly—deep, unmistakable. This wasn't just a car. This was aligned. As if the Infinity Watch recognized a sibling. A counterpart forged not by gods, but by human arrogance reaching toward divinity.
Emrah adjusted his grip on the cane and walked forward.
The Bugatti gallery was quiet, almost reverent. Marble floors. Soft lighting. A cathedral built for speed. Sales associates glanced at him briefly—then looked away. No one rushed him. No one questioned him.
He smiled faintly.
"Call your manager," Emrah said calmly to the nearest attendant.
The man blinked. "Sir?"
"I don't repeat myself."
Minutes later, the manager arrived—a well-dressed man with practiced confidence and cautious eyes.
"How may I help you, sir?" the manager asked politely.
Emrah didn't sit.
He pointed his cane—not aggressively, just decisively—toward the Bugatti Tourbillon.
"I want that exact car."
The manager hesitated. "That model is… extremely limited. There's a waiting list. Years long. Even if money—"
"I won't take no for an answer."
The room seemed to tighten.
Emrah reached into his pocket, withdrew a black card, and placed it gently on the table between them.
Tap.
"You will sell me this car," he said evenly. "Today. Not tomorrow. Not after a meeting. Not after a phone call to headquarters."
The manager swallowed. "Sir… Bugatti doesn't operate like that."
Emrah leaned forward slightly, his eyes cold but calm.
"Then today," he said, "Bugatti learns something new."
Silence.
The watch pulsed once more, slow and deliberate—like a heartbeat agreeing with him.
The manager looked from the card… to the car… then back to Emrah.
"I'll… make a call."
Emrah straightened, already knowing the answer.
Because time itself had already chosen.
And the machine had answered.
Emrah sat behind the wheel, still staring at the Bugatti's interior, his pulse slower than his thoughts.
A car… reacting to the Infinity Watch?
It made no sense.
His mind spiraled—not in panic, but in calculation. Too many coincidences. Too many "chance encounters." Too many objects of impossible value simply appearing in his path.
Nothing comes to someone like me this easily, he thought.
There has to be someone—or something—behind this.
A manipulator. A watcher. A force that understood causality far better than he did.
The soft sound of footsteps pulled him back.
The manager stood beside the open door, holding out a key fob that looked more like a relic than a piece of technology—polished metal, engraved insignia, weight that felt deliberate.
"And this," the manager added, offering a black entry card edged with gold, "is access to the Bugatti Mausoleum. You may customize the vehicle however you wish."
Emrah accepted both without a word.
The moment he sat fully inside and closed the door, the world shifted.
The dashboard went dark.
Then—
SYSTEM POP-UP DETECTED
CONGRATULATIONS, SUBJECT: INFINITY
YOU HAVE FOUND ONE OF THE HIDDEN INFINITY WEAPONS
Emrah froze.
"…What?"
His eyes narrowed instantly. That's impossible.
"A car?" he muttered aloud. "You expect me to believe a car is an Infinity Weapon? What am I supposed to do—run my enemies over?"
The system responded immediately, tone neutral, almost amused.
CLARIFICATION:
This object contains a fragment that once belonged to an Infinity Weapon.
That fragment has bonded with the vehicle's core architecture.
As a result, the entire construct has ascended classification.
Emrah exhaled slowly.
"So it's not really new," he said. "It belonged to someone else."
CORRECTION:
The fragment did.
The weapon did not.
The pause that followed felt… intentional.
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:
You are the first being in the universe to obtain a brand-new Infinity Weapon.
One not inherited.
One not stolen from history.
One not claimed from a fallen figure of importance.
CONCLUSION:
This indicates that you are a figure of importance.
Emrah scoffed quietly.
"Sugarcoating," he muttered.
He wasn't offended—but he wasn't fooled either.
Still… he didn't deny the pull in his chest. The sense that something had recognized him long before today.
The car hummed softly as he pulled onto the road, Dubai stretching before him—glass, gold, temptation, danger.
INITIATING ABILITY OVERVIEW
The system's voice flowed smoothly as the city blurred past.
ABILITY ONE: Adaptive Form
This weapon may transform into any known car model instantaneously.
Condition: Pairing required.
"Fine," Emrah said without hesitation.
He placed both hands firmly on the wheel.
The response was immediate.
The watch pulsed.
The engine answered.
No resistance. No delay.
It felt less like activation—and more like recognition.
PAIRING COMPLETE
Status: MASTER CONFIRMED
Emrah smiled for the first time since entering the car.
ABILITY TWO: Weapon Manifestation
This unit can generate and deploy any form of weaponry across its surface.
Ranged. Melee. Defensive. Conceptual.
"…That's excessive," Emrah said, clearly pleased.
He drove through the city once more, letting the feeling settle into his bones. Then, calmly, he returned to the front of the gallery.
He stepped out.
Placed his hand on the hood.
The Bugatti vanished.
Gone—folded neatly into his pocket domain as if it had never existed.
Gasps echoed behind him.
Someone dropped a tablet.
Another whispered a prayer.
Emrah didn't look back.
He got into his Lamborghini Urus, drove back to the hotel, and handed the keys to the valet as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Then, without ceremony, he headed straight for the restaurant.
By the time he sat down, hunger finally caught up to him.
"For breakfast," he said calmly, "bring me everything."
And somewhere, far beyond Dubai, in the Prison back In Istanbul, Aykut Yılmaz sat on the edge of his bunk, staring at the wall as if he could burn a hole through it with hatred alone. Prison didn't break him—it sharpened him. Every passing day carved the same name deeper into his mind.
Emrah Aybeyli.
He stood and walked to the bars.
"Guard," Aykut said calmly. "I need to make a phone call."
The guard looked him over, unimpressed. After a moment, he shrugged.
"One call. Five minutes."
The door buzzed open.
Aykut was escorted to the corridor phone. He sat down, lifted the receiver, and prepared to dial—
The phone rang.
Aykut froze.
The guard frowned. "That's not possible. No one requested a call."
Slowly, Aykut brought the receiver to his ear.
"…Hello?"
The line crackled.
Then a voice came through—clear, controlled, untouched by static or emotion.
"I can free you from this prison."
Aykut's breath hitched.
"And in return," the voice continued, "you will end Emrah Aybeyli."
Aykut leaned forward, blood pounding in his ears.
"…Who are you?" he asked.
A pause.
Then, quietly—
"Just a friend."
The call ended.
The dial tone hummed.
The guard stared at the phone. "That line shouldn't even be active…"
Aykut slowly placed the receiver back. His hands were steady now. His eyes burned with something new.
Certainty.
Far away—hidden behind layers of encrypted networks, satellites, dormant servers, and forgotten systems—
A man watched the prison feed in real time.
Not through magic.
Not through time travel.
Through control.
Every outdated camera.
Every unsecured line.
Every piece of legacy technology humanity had abandoned but never truly shut down.
The Mastermind.
He did not move through time.
He reached backward, manipulating the past through its own machines.
Because the past was careless.
And careless systems were easy to own.
Aykut Yılmaz was now a piece on the board.
And Emrah Aybeyli
Was the anomaly that needed to be erased.
Checkmate had begun.