Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss-Chapter 40: Permission From Lord Abram

The ride back to Ross Castle was long but uneventful.

Ren sat atop his horse, his green eyes scanning the familiar yet unfamiliar land around him that had once been his home.

Thorn rode beside him, their small entourage trailing closely behind.

Even though Ren had spent four years away, the roads, the fields, and the sight of the great iron gates still stirred something within him.

It was a mixture of nostalgia and unfamiliarity. Home, but not quite the same.

As they approached the courtyard, they could see figures standing waiting.

At the front, his mother, Lady Maria, stood with her hands clasped, her expression unreadable, until the instant she saw him. Then, her composure broke, and a big smile appeared on his face.

The moment he finally got to the courtyard and dismounted, she rushed forward, her arms wrapping tightly around him.

"My son…" She breathed, her grip firm, as if afraid he might disappear. "You’ve grown so much."

Ren allowed himself to be held, feeling the warmth of her embrace. He appreciated the moment of tenderness in a place that had always valued discipline over affection.

His mother pulled away just enough to study him, her eyes taking in the changes time had wrought.

At fifteen, Ren was taller, his once-lean frame now lined with hardened muscle from years of battle at the border.

His brown hair had grown longer, almost brushing over his sharp, discerning green eyes.

His movements were different. Controlled, measured, efficient. He carried himself like a warrior, his stance steady.

The boy who had left home was gone. In his place stood a seasoned fighter, a Knight who had already carved his place in blood and war.

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"You look just like your father did at your age." Lady Maria whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his face before smiling. "But your eyes… they are yours alone."

Behind her, his elder brothers, Felix and Darius, stood watching with smirks of their own.

Felix, the eldest at twenty-one, was dressed impeccably as always. He still had a leaner build but carried himself with the same effortless confidence.

Darius, now nineteen, had grown broader, his presence as solid as ever.

Felix let out a low whistle. "So, the prodigal brother returns."

Darius grinned. "And looking every bit the war-hardened knight. Tell me, Ren, did the border make you soft or sharp?"

Ren smirked. "Why don’t we spar later and find out?"

Felix chuckled. "Oh, he’s definitely sharper. I approve."

Darius clapped him on the shoulder. "We heard plenty of stories about you. I’ll admit, I expected half of them to be exaggerated, but seeing you now… it seems like they were true."

Ren scoffed. "You both visited the border a few times while I was stationed there. You should know by now that I’m the real deal."

Felix snorted. "True. Still, it’s different seeing you now, standing in front of us like this."

Darius folded his arms. "Father is waiting for you. You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting."

Ren nodded. "Then I won’t keep him."

After more hugs from his mother and a bit more banter with his brothers, he left the courtyard.

The walk to his father’s study was familiar, but this time, even his own footsteps felt different.

He had left as a boy, uncertain of his place. Now, he returned with purpose.

When he arrived, the doors were already open, as if Lord Ross had been expecting him the moment he set foot in the castle.

Inside, his father sat behind his wooden desk, as composed and unreadable as ever. He looked up at his entrance, studying him for a few seconds before setting aside the parchment in his hands.

"Father." Ren bowed at Lord Abram Ross, Lord of the Ross estate.

"Terence." His father said with a nod. "You’ve done well."

"I have received reports from Knight Commander Arlen. You have proven yourself in the border wars, and your ascension to Rank 3 has been noted."

Ren stood tall. "Thank you, Father."

Lord Ross leaned forward slightly. "You now stand as an equal to your brothers in rank. That alone is an achievement, but I expect more."

"You have returned, but your journey is not over. Strength must be continuously honed. A dull blade is no different from a broken one."

Ren met his father’s gaze. "That is why I came with a request."

Lord Ross gestured for him to continue.

"I wish to go to the capital to participate in the King’s Tournament during the birthday celebrations. It is a tradition, and my brothers have competed in the past. I would like the opportunity to do the same."

His father raised an eyebrow. "Your brothers went, and they brought back nothing of worth. Why should I expect a different outcome from you?"

Ren bowed slightly with a confident smile on his face. "Because I intend to win."

Another man would’ve been surprised but Lord Ross just stared at his son, observing him for a long, silent moment.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Very well. You will go."

Ren inclined his head. "Thank you, Father."

Lord Ross waved a hand dismissively. "Do not thank me. Show me I was right to approve this. Do not waste this opportunity."

"Yes, father."

"Now, go. Rest before your next journey. Do not disappoint me."

With a final bow, Ren turned and left the study.

He’d secured his next step. The capital awaited.

As he stepped out into the corridor, Darius and Felix were waiting.

Felix smirked. "So, what did the old man say?"

Ren met their expectant gazes. "I’m going to the capital."

Darius raised an eyebrow. "The King’s Tournament?"

Ren nodded. "Exactly."

Felix let out a low whistle. "Well, well. Finally, something interesting. You know, we tried that before, but the competition was rough."

Darius grinned. "Not that we’re saying you can’t win, but…"

Ren smirked. "I’m not you."

Felix burst into laughter. "Cocky little bastard, aren’t you? Alright, I like it. Go and win, then."

Darius clapped him on the back. "Just don’t come back empty-handed, or Father will never let you hear the end of it."

Ren chuckled. "Noted."