Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss-Chapter 58: Failure

As always, the city of Steadfast stretched out beneath them like a slumbering beast.

It was so late in the night that it was inadvisable to be outside. The lanterns illuminating the streets had burned so low that shadow claimed some of the streets and most of the alleys.

From the rooftops, Ren and Thorn moved like ghosts, their cloaks blending into the night as they moved through the aerial pathways of the city.

This late at night, all that was left outside was the foot patrols of the guards, keeping the King’s peace.

"You sure we’re going the right way?" Ren murmured, crouching beside Thorn as they looked down at the quiet plaza below.

Thorn was focused, his fingers lightly brushing the surface of his blood bound pendant, the imbued object that helped him track the metaphysical trails people left behind.

Today, he’d caught the trail of the second Swordsman that had been at the Fixer’s house. He exhaled, his eyes not moving from whatever he was seeing.

"Trail’s weak up here." He murmured. "The bastard’s actively trying to be sneaky and it’s affecting the trail. We’ll have to go down."

"Fuck." Ren sighed. "I hate having to dodge the street patrols. Very tiring."

Thorn smirked. "You and me both, but this kind of search takes time and focus. It’s… delicate."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Delicate? You make it sound like your search is an art form or something."

"That’s because it kind of is." Thorn said. "Everybody leaves trails and it’s not like the trails are color coded for easy searching."

"Filtering through all the traces left behind is a nightmare. You think it’s just following a single path, but it’s not. I have to sort through everything. Every person who’s passed through, their magic residue, the scents, the shifts in the air."

He made a face. "It’s like trying to pick out the one clean piece of fruit from a pile of rotting garbage. And let me tell you, most of it is garbage."

Ren chuckled. "So what you’re saying is, your job is basically digging through a heap of filth, trying not to get any of it on you?"

Thorn shot him a look. "Pretty much. And I swear, sometimes it feels like it."

"Really?" Ren frowned. "So, you use more than just your eyesight?"

"The eyesight isn’t even the most reliable sense. I use every sense organ I have. Touch, smell, sight, hearing."

Thorn grimaced. "It’s like reaching into a barrel of week-old fish guts and pulling out something that might be an apple. Except, you’re not even sure it’s an apple. And the whole time, you’re trying not to gag."

Ren smirked. "And yet, you do this willingly."

Thorn groaned. "Shut up. Just be glad you don’t have to do it."

Ren chuckled again, shaking his head. "Alright, let’s go down before I start thinking about what it actually feels like to dig through week-old fish guts."

With a few hopes and some crawling added, they descended into the alleyway below.

Thorn landed lightly beside Ren, glancing around the dark that surrounded them. The trail was stronger here, the traces of their target detectable through Thorn’s Bloodbinding.

They moved quickly, weaving through the alleys, careful not to draw attention.

But luck was not on their side.

A team of patrolmen rounded the corner ahead of them, and the moment their eyes landed on Ren and Thorn, the tension spiked.

"Halt! Identify yourselves!" One of the patrolmen barked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Ren and Thorn slowed their pace, exchanging a quick glance.

The patrol consisted of five men, two were standard guards, but the other three carried themselves with the discipline of trained Knights. Fighting them outright would be risky. And they couldn’t afford to kill them or there would be even more patrolmen on the streets by tomorrow.

Thorn sighed dramatically. "Well, so much for a quiet night."

Ren kept his voice level as he spoke with them. "We’re just passing through. No need for trouble."

The lead patrolman narrowed his eyes. "That’s not how this works. You’re masked, armed, and skulking around in the dead of night. You’ll submit to an inspection. Now."

Thorn smirked. "Yeah, that’s not happening."

One of the Knights stepped forward. "Then we do this the hard way."

Ren and Thorn moved first, reaching for the patrolmen before they could fully draw their weapons.

Ren twisted, grabbing the nearest guard’s wrist and slamming him into the wall before he could react.

Thorn went low, sweeping the leg under another, toppling him to the ground. The remaining three Knights were faster, drawing their swords and charging in like bulls.

Ren glanced around with gritted teeth. They couldn’t use their full abilities now, not against Knights of Albion. Since he’ll be participating in the king’s tournament, an event with lots of spectators, there was a chance of someone recognizing his abilities.

Luckily, they’d left no witnesses at their only two assassinations.

They’d have to rely purely on skill. Luckily, these Knights were Rank 2 soldiers who hadn’t seen actual battle.

One of the Knights swung at Thorn, but he sidestepped fluidly, using the momentum to shove the attacker into a stack of crates.

Ren ducked under another’s blade, striking the man’s gauntlet with the hilt of his dagger, forcing him to drop his weapon.

He spinned back, ducked below the swing of the third Knight, and responded with an uppercut under the chin.

The Knight’s head snapped back and he fell down, unconscious.

Thorn deflected a strike with the flat of his blade, and raised his leg, kicking the Knight in front of him to his partner. They both went down in a tangle of limbs.

Taking advantage of the opening, Ren and Thorn dashed into the adjacent alley.

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"After them!" The lead Knight, who was still on the floor, shouted. But by the time they got to their feet and scrambled into the alley, Ren and Thorn were already gone.

Not just gone from the street but gone from the capital.

The night had ended in failure. But they would be back.