Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss

Dawn slowly crept towards them like a thief, chasing away the veil of night above them.

The sun rose slow and golden behind the 27th Peak, its light crawling across the mountain's frozen face like a jealous lover. Snowflakes glimmered like sparks in the pale light, and the wind, though still sharp, had gentled with the coming of morning.

The makeshift camp was already gone. The tents had been packed, the fires stamped out, and the smoke that had curled lazily just hours before had now dispersed.

What remained was a crowd of hopefuls, lean figures wrapped in cloaks, armored men and women with hard eyes, young prodigies brimming with energy, all gathered before the great sealed gates of Carthage.

Ren stood with Lilith and Thorn at the outer edge of the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the field of competitors.

He'd spent the time scoping out every warrior he could see, and his senses, honed after a year of surviving the mountains, were ready for the task. It didn't take long to pick out the threats.

"See them?" Ren said quietly, his chin tilting toward a trio standing apart from the rest.

They were tall and grim looking, their expressions unreadable beneath fur lined hoods and ash gray scarves that covered the lower halves of their faces.

Their skin was pale, but their eyes narrow and dark, their cheekbones sharp and high. One had a sheathed blade curved slightly at the edge, an eastern design. They were foreigners. Ren didn't need to ask where they were from.

"They're from beyond the Arondale range." He murmured.

Lilith followed his gaze. "Far east?"

"Yeah. I've read about them."

From the game's wiki, of course. Two of the ruling families of Carthage were easterners.

"Their Tree of Power is called the Gifting Tree." Ren said. "It grants powers like a lottery. Each person gets something different. Something like a Divine Gift. Now that I know the real source of the Divine Tree, maybe it's something Yggdrasil is experimenting with to create Divine Gifts of his own."

Thorn snorted under his breath. "Sounds chaotic."

"It is. But for them to be here, that means their 'gifts' have matured. High level users. Don't underestimate them."

He kept his eyes on the trio. They didn't speak nor gesture. They simply stood still, eyeing everyone around them, their presence like still water hiding a deep current underneath. The one with the curved blade stared forward, calm as stone.

"They'll be a problem," Ren said, "especially if their abilities complement each other."

He shifted his gaze again, his eyes landing on the second group he had picked out.

A family.

The six of them stood close together, dressed in formfitting armor, their dark cloaks trimmed with red threads.

They all had red hair, thick and glossy, ranging from copper to wine dark. Each of them bore the same sharp nose and jawline, the same subtle tilt of the brow.

Nobles.

Albion blood.

"The Rosefield family." Ren muttered.

Lilith raised an eyebrow. "As in the same Rosefield we know?"

Ren nodded. "Yeah. Vesper's family."

He frowned as the memories of Vesper Rosefield flashed through his mind. The boy had first approached them when Ren had been heading to the capital to represent his family, and had later become the Red Prophet, controlling the infected of Albion.

Ren had killed him with his own hands.

"Just because they are Rosefields, they mustn't be underestimated. For Rosefields to make it this far, they're definitely not weak."

Thorn clicked his tongue. "You think they're all siblings?"

"Not necessarily." Ren's tone was grim. "But I'm sure if they head back down to Albion, they'll be powerful enough to do whatever they want. Either way, they're our competition."

The Rosefields stood like a wall. Perfect posture, calm expressions, their eyes scanning the crowd with idle disinterest, as if they were already above it all. One of them, a tall young man with a lion's mane of red, locked eyes with Ren for half a second. Then he looked away.

"I don't like them." Thorn muttered.

"They're dangerous." Ren said. "They've been raised to see people like us as obstacles."

Lilith chuckled, crossing her hands over her chest. "Then let's be the kind of obstacle that ruins bloodlines."

Ren smiled faintly. Around them, the wind picked up, and the mountain groaned. Then the air shifted.

It began with a deep toll, a bell so heavy it seemed to ring through the bones of the mountain itself. The sound echoed down the cliffs and across the snow, swallowing all conversation and motion in the crowd.

One toll.

Then another.

Each toll came slower than the last one, but each one was somehow louder and the same volume at the same time.

The crowd before the gate fell completely silent, all heads turning in unison to the sealed wall of stone before them.

Then, with a low groan, the gates of Carthage began to open.

Snow flurried as the massive doors parted, stone grinding against stone.

The sigil of Carthage, three towers enclosed in a ring, split down the middle, its halves sliding aside to reveal a narrow path beyond, carved into the dark interior of the mountain.

From the opening, a man walked out.

It was the same clerk who had sat beneath the pavilion, taking names and processing registrations.

He now wore a thick, slate gray coat, the sigil of Carthage sewn into its chest in silver thread. His hair was tied back in a tight knot, and his face was unreadable as he stepped into the snow.

Flanking him were six guards in full armor, each one carrying a halberd. Their helmets gleamed even in the dim morning light, and their footsteps were even. Ren was sure that some militaries back on earth would cry in envy at the display.

The clerk stopped just ahead of the gates, lifted a scroll from the folds of his coat, and unrolled it with a crisp snap.

He cleared his throat once, his voice calm and cold.

"You have gathered here because you believe yourselves worthy of Carthage." He said. "You believe your bloodline is strong, your powers unmatched, and your lives of value."

He scanned the crowd without emotion.

"Carthage does not care for belief. Carthage values proof." This chapter was made possible by the MV_LEMPYR community.

A ripple went through the competitors.

"The exam begins now. You have until sundown to complete the task. Pass, and the gates remain open to you. Fail, and you will not be allowed to return."

He rolled the scroll back up with slow precision, then handed it to one of the guards.

"You will enter through the gate in teams, three at a time. Await your name. Once called, you will proceed forward and receive your instructions."

He turned without another word and walked back through the gates, the guards following in perfect formation behind him.

The sound of the grinding stone resumed as the doors slowly widened further.

Ren, Thorn, and Lilith shared a look.

The exam had begun.