Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss-Chapter 47: Octavian

The dark corridor was drenched in blood.

A man moved through it like a wraith, his sword carving through bodies as if they were paper.

The corridor was filled with the dying gasps of men who had moments ago thought themselves powerful.

Cloaked warriors, Bloodbound Knights of the criminal organization, Fuchsia, fell before him, their own Bloodbinding abilities proving worthless against his sheer might.

He moved with no hesitation, no wasted motion. He was faster, stronger, and deadlier.

"Pathetic." He spat, stepping over a corpse.

His black hair was combed back impeccably as if he was in the middle of a dinner party and not a slaughter. He bared his teeth, his crimson eyes gleaming with something between disdain and amusement.

His black coat, which had once been pristine, was now stained with the lifeblood of those who dared stand in his way.

A group of three Fuchsia knights lunged at him from the shadows, as if he hadn’t seen them coming from a mile away.

He scoffed as their blades crackled with the power of their Bloodbinding. The shadows definitely wouldn’t save them.

The first came from the right, swinging high, but the black-haired man ducked, stepping forward and slamming his palm against the knight’s chest. A sickening crunch followed as the knight was sent flying into the corridor wall, bones shattering on impact.

The second knight attempted a backhanded slash, but the black-haired man sidestepped, catching the knight’s wrist mid-swing.

With an almost lazy flick of his wrist, he twisted it in an unnatural direction, forcing the knight to his knees with a howl of pain. Before the knight could react, a swift kick to the throat silenced him forever.

The third knight hesitated, fear creeping into his stance. A mistake.

The black-haired man blurred forward, gripping the knight’s face with one hand. "You Fuchsia dogs are all the same."

"Weak."

"Undisciplined."

"You bind your blood to weapons, yet your bodies remain fragile." He tightened his grip.

"Disgusting."

A sickening crack echoed through the corridor as he crushed the knight’s skull in his palm. The body crumpled, lifeless.

He took a moment to adjust his coat before he continued walking.

The corridor opened up into a large entrance hall, complete with marble floors and large pillars starkly different from the bloodstained path he had left behind.

At the center of the hall, three swordsmen stood waiting, their faces covered with wooden masks and their weapons drawn.

Unlike the grunts before, these men radiated discipline.

"Finally." He grunted. "Worthy opponents."

The lead swordsman, who wore a red cloak, stepped forward. "State your name and your purpose, intruder. You’ve cut your way through our men. That is not something we take lightly."

"You expect me to believe those were men and not mannequins?" He grunted in answer.

"It matters not what they were, intruder." The red cloaked swordsman said. "Identify yourself."

"You want to know the bringer of your death?" The black-haired man tilted his head slightly, a smirk forming. "Very well."

"I am Octavian Underwood. Heir of Lord Underwood. And I’m here to see the head of Fuchsia."

The swordsman laughed, leaning on his weapon. "You expect us to let you through after butchering our men? You’ll have to go through us first."

Octavian sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I was hoping you’d say that."

The three swordsmen attacked at the same time.

The first came in fast, his sword flickering in and out of existence, the edge humming with a sharpness beyond normal steel.

Octavian didn’t move until the last second, stepping forward and parrying with his bare hand.

His fingers clamped onto the flat of the blade, stopping it mid-swing. The swordsman’s eyes widened in horror as Octavian’s grip crushed the steel like brittle glass.

Octavian’s free hand lashed out, fingers driving into the swordsman’s ribs. The force sent him skidding back, gasping for air.

The second swordsman flanked him, aiming low for a disabling strike. Octavian caught the blade between his palms, twisting the weapon out of the knight’s grip before slamming his knee into the man’s gut.

The knight doubled over, only to be sent flying across the hall by a brutal kick to the chest.

The third swordsman used the moment to aim for Octavian’s exposed neck. As he would soon learn, that was a big mistake.

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Octavian shifted at the last second, catching the blade against his shoulder, allowing it to bite into flesh just slightly before gripping the knight’s throat. His crimson eyes gleamed. "Nice try."

With a casual squeeze, he crushed the knight’s windpipe before throwing him aside like a broken doll.

The first swordsman struggled back to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth. "W-What… are you?"

Octavian cracked his neck, stepping over the fallen bodies. "The only one in my family who matters."

With that, he walked past them and entered through the doors ahead.

Inside was another room, different from the carnage he had left behind.

It was a small, elegant living space, dimly lit by flickering candles. At the center of it sat a man in a fine noble attire, swirling a glass of deep red wine in his hand.

Familiar golden hair and golden eyes.

The Penny Prince.

Octavian smirked. "I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to be the leader of Fuchsia."

The Penny Prince chuckled, setting his glass down. "And I didn’t expect the heir of House Underwood to come seeking me out. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Octavian strode forward, seating himself across from the Penny Prince. "I have a job for you."

The Penny Prince tilted his head. "Oh?"

"I want my sister dead. And I don’t want it to trace back to me."

The room fell silent.

The Penny Prince leaned back. "If you had gone to one of my lower ranks, they would have rejected this. But you knew that, didn’t you? That’s why you came to me directly."

Octavian smirked. "I knew you’d listen to an offer worth your time."

The Penny Prince steepled his fingers. "And why do you want your dear sister dead?"

Octavian scoffed. "Lilith is a blight on this world, prince."

"She lacks control, she lacks discipline. Mark my words, if she isn’t erased, she’ll be the one to erase the world instead. She’s weak, and she’s a disgrace. I refuse to let her existence taint our house any further."

The Penny Prince watched him for a long moment, a smirk playing on his lips. "Why not kill her yourself?"

Octavian’s smile widened slightly. "Because my father still loves her. And I’m not ready to remove him yet. The old man has his uses."

The Penny Prince chuckled, taking another sip of his wine. "And what do I get out of this?"

Octavian leaned forward, his crimson eyes gleaming. "We both know there’s a war coming. And in return for Lilith’s death, I’ll side with you when your rebellion begins."

The Penny Prince considered this, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement. "A tempting offer."

Octavian said nothing, watching the Penny Prince. He knew that this was a deal the man could not afford to refuse. Not now anyways.

"Very well" The Penny Prince finally nodded. "We have a deal."

Octavian leaned back, a satisfied smirk blossoming on his face. "Good." He stood. "Then let’s see which one of us gets what they want first."

He walked out, leaving the Penny Prince behind.

"Lilith, dearest sister. I hope you’ll love this surprise." He chuckled to himself. "Don’t worry. You’ll have time to appreciate it."

"In the afterlife."