Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss-Chapter 50: First Strike At Fuchsia

Ren and Thorn changed into dark, inconspicuous clothing, pulling cloaks over their attire to hide their identities. The heavy fabric draped over their shoulders, blending them perfectly into the night.

"Before we go," Ren said, "there are a few rules we must follow."

"We won’t use our names when we leave here." Ren said, adjusting his gloves. "From now on, I’m First. You’re Last. No exceptions."

Thorn nodded, pulling his hood further over his face. "Got it."

Ren continued. "Limited communication when in battle. We don’t want our voices recognized later. Keep everything short, gestures if necessary."

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"And if we have to retreat, we do it fast. No hesitation."

Thorn smirked. "So no heroic last stands?"

Ren gave him a flat look. "Not unless you want to die."

Thorn chuckled but took the warning seriously. "Understood. Anything else?"

"Yes. We go in hard and fast. If it can be done in a second, don’t drag it out to three. We want to be gone before any form of reinforcements arrive."

"And of course, that has the added benefit of making it hard for them to track us."

With the final rules in place, Thorn placed a firm hand on Ren’s shoulder.

In an instant, the world blurred, and a cold sensation spread through Ren’s body as they teleported to the capital.

They arrived in a dark room, the air heavy with dust. Ren felt the pull of teleportation drain his blood, but he had prepared for this. He steadied himself quickly.

The soldier he had sent ahead stood at attention and saluted. "My lord, all is prepared."

Ren gave him a nod of approval. "Well done. When we return to Ross estate, you’ll be rewarded."

The soldier bowed before stepping back into the shadows. Ren reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin, and left it in the room. He still had the one with the soldier but two coins were better than one.

He turned to Thorn. "Let’s move."

With their cloth masks covering the lower halves of their faces, they slipped out through the window and into the night.

For a moment, they stood on the rooftop, taking in the sprawling capital city beneath them. The view was breathtaking.

"Welcome to Steadfast." Ren said with a smirk.

The capital of Albion was a massive, intricate city, built in tiers that climbed toward the grand palace at its highest point.

The lower districts were dense and chaotic, a sea of rooftops with narrow alleys and winding streets illuminated by flickering lanterns.

The outer districts, where merchants and commoners lived, were filled with bustling markets and stone-paved roads, even at this hour still alive with late-night revelry.

The closer one moved to the heart of the city, the more refined the architecture became. Mansions with grand courtyards, beautifully decorated towers that reached toward the sky, and well crafted bridges that connected various parts of the noble quarter.

From their vantage point, they could see the tall walls of the palace, illuminated by torches and giant lanterns, standing as a silent guardian over the kingdom.

The noble quarter was alive with distant music, the sound of wealth and power thriving even in the late hours.

And standing between the noble quarter and the rest of the city was the vast coliseum where the King’s Tournament would be held, sitting like a sleeping beast.

"Woah." Thorn said, for the first time in a long time, at a loss for words.

Ren smirked but didn’t waste anymore time enjoying the view. "Let’s go."

As they moved across the rooftops, Ren spoke in a low voice. "We need to kill five people from Fuchsia."

"I know where two of them should be. With your information-gathering blood bound object, we’ll find the remaining three. But tonight, we’re taking out only one."

Thorn nodded. "Who’s the target?"

"A merchant named Fiske. That’s his front. He’s actually Fuchsia’s human trafficker. The one who makes people disappear when nobles need them gone. He’s a Rank 3 Knight like me, so don’t expect an easy fight."

Thorn let out a low whistle. "Where is he now?"

Ren’s eyes flickered toward the outer city’s grand district. It was a good thing he’d read the game’s wiki pages as much as he’d done. "The Golden Keep. High-end casino. Four stories tall, well-guarded."

Within ten minutes, they arrived at their vantage point, crouching on a nearby rooftop overlooking the Golden Keep.

The building was extravagant, its large windows glowing with warm, inviting light. Music and laughter spilled from within, blending with the sounds of clinking coins and the occasional outburst of victory or frustration.

Ren pointed to the roof. "Guards."

A small team of men patrolled the rooftop, armed and alert. Not a large number, but enough to be a problem.

Ren reached into his cloak and pulled out a coin. With a grunt, he tossed it toward the guards.

Before it landed, he teleported to it, snatched it out of the air, and in one swift motion, slit the throat of the nearest guard. Completing the rotation of his strike, he stabbed the neck of the second guard.

Before the third guard could react, Thorn appeared behind him and slit his throat, silencing him forever.

The rooftop was theirs.

Peeping into the obnoxiously bright rooms of the casino, Ren decided that entering right now would be a bad idea.

With a few gestures, he told Thorn the plan. They’d crawl outside the walls of the building, out of the reach of the light of the street, until they found their target.

Fortunately for them, the outer walls of the building were decorated with bright stones, giving them lots of handholds.

With a nod, they began crawling.

The murmur of the casino patrons inside created a constant background noise, covering their movements as Ren led the way to the windows of the second floor, where Fiske was known to conduct business.

In the game, the Golden Keep had been an empty husk but here, it was alive. It didn’t matter though. He knew where he was going.

Within minutes, he found their target.

Fiske sat at a card table in a private room, surrounded by a small entourage of well-dressed men.

The man had let himself go, with a rotund figure and an air of arrogance, laughing loudly as he sipped from what looked like a golden goblet.

Ren raised three fingers and dropped them one after the other. When the last finger dropped, they burst into the room.

Ren moved fast, hurling a knife that embedded itself into the throat of one of Fiske’s men before the others could react.

Thorn followed up, cutting through another before he could even draw his weapon. Chaos erupted instantly.

Fiske staggered back, knocking over his chair. "Who the hell—?!"

Ren lunged, aiming for his heart, but while Fiske had neglected his physical training, his instincts were still sharp.

Armor appeared out of thin air, covering him and repelling the attack as he drew his own weapon, a wickedly curved saber crackling with energy.

"You think you can just waltz in here and kill me?!" Fiske snarled, slashing forward.

Ren barely dodged, the blade grazing his cloak. Thorn engaged with the remaining patrons—several of whom were also Knights—forcing him into a brutal melee.

Fiske’s saber moved with surprising speed, unlike what his bulk would suggest.

Ren dodged, knowing that getting in contact with Fiske’s saber could mean instant death.

He gritted his teeth, keeping his focus. Fiske was strong, but he was also sloppy, used to intimidation rather than real battles.

Ren feinted left, then flicked a coin behind Fiske. He teleported instantly, reappearing behind him. Before Fiske could react, Ren plunged his dagger between his ribs.

Fiske choked, eyes wide. "No…"

Ren twisted the blade. "Yes."

Fiske crumpled, lifeless.

Across the room, Thorn ripped the throat out his last opponent, clutching his stomach. A deep gash ran across it, blood soaking into his shirt.

"Damn it." Thorn grunted, clutching the wound.

Ren didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Thorn and, with a thought, teleported them back to the room in the inn.

The sudden shift left him lightheaded, the strain of teleportation and blood loss from powering his teleportations hitting him all at once.

Then, Thorn collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily, his eyes turning glassy. "Fuck."

Ren shook his head, forcing his own exhaustion aside. Thorn was hurt. Badly.

He needed a healer. And he needed one now.