An Extra’s POV

In a vast and beautiful room, furnished finely with the best kinds of items anyone could find, there was a long table.

This table had five chairs lined before it.

Two were placed in the left, two in the right to the final chair—which also looked the most prestigious—was at the very front.

The head of the table.

Seated on each of these seats were people who were dressed rather uniquely—though most of them had fancy wears.

The chandelier up above, the fine murals all over the pristine space, the regal carpets, and the exquisite curtains; all of these things sanctified this entire room as purely bourgeois.

As such, the people presently seated had to reflect such dignity.

Other than a rough-looking man that sat with his arms folded, fleshing his bulging muscles and his barely covered chest, everyone else was dressed appropriately for the meeting.

They also had entourages who stood behind them.

Each of the regular four seats had two people standing behind them.

However, the majestic seat in front of them all had only one person standing.

The young man who stood there wore a pure black suit, with pure black hair and blue eyes shimmering from his blank eyes.

He looked stoic as he placed both hands behind him and stood behind his mistress.

Indeed…

The one who sat in the most prestigious position was none other than Lady Scylla, the only Slave Trader who currently operated within the United Human Alliance's borders.

Her long, blond hair was coiled, and it fell on her purely red dress.

Her beautiful and delicate face would be more than enough to fool anyone. It hid the truly savage and ruthless persona she had within.

With her lips giving off the hue of red, and her violet eyes echoing nothing but danger, she smiled at the people who had gathered before her.

There was Noir, Rouge, and Bleue of the Obsidian Council.

And then, Fenrir, the Chief of the Mercenary Gang.

These were the members of her New Order; heralds of the Undertaking.

Behind them were their subordinates. For the Mercenary Gang Chief, two of the Deadly Three stood behind him.

most qualified

that guarded her was

Scylla's voice echoed within the

previous rulers of the Criminal Underworld. They won't be a threat

in the room knew what

Triumvirate that governed all the activities of

had enough power and wealth to do and

that their children would

Hence, the culling.

person related to the three Councilors were killed

was

Your Mercenary Gang

radiating so much goodwill, Fenrir grunted and

of a beast, and while he had

his muscular physique, and he wore pretty baggy trousers, with

he appeared to be a ruffian who seemed barely interested in the

Still, he reluctantly remained.

"Whatever…" He murmured.

on. Don't be so

Bleue joined

not be the furthest thing from

balding blond hair, Bleue appeared to be lanky;

was using Magic to

won't stop me from charging you full price for our services." Fenrir

"Of course! We understand."

"Yes! We understand!"

off the Mercenary

believe we all gathered here for a purpose. Why don't we get to

one who spoke was Lord Noir—an old man with gray hair and a snake-like expression

in the room, he was dressed the most

cape, and jewels that had dark tints

pale skin and composed attitude was reminiscent of a classical depiction of the Vampire

patriarch of the original family that began the Obsidian

made it impossible not to

members of

And… perhaps they were.

"You're right, Lord Noir!"

"Right indeed, Lord Noir!"

sighed, also finding

black irises telling her to go

the Mercenary Gang has sent their forces to cripple the Blanc