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.

had the most qualified of their members

Scylla… the boy that guarded

suppose we should begin with some good news." Scylla's voice echoed within the bright

the Criminal

in the room knew what that

of the Underworld were members of the Royal

and wealth to do

was the fear that their children would also rise up to

Hence, the culling.

person related to the three Councilors were

one was

thanking you, Fenrir. Your Mercenary

this, her charming smile radiating so much goodwill,

was reminiscent of a beast, and while he had

muscular physique, and he

to be a ruffian who

Still, he reluctantly remained.

"Whatever…" He murmured.

be so modest, Sir Fenrir." Lord

Indeed!" Bleue joined and

could not be the furthest

an overweight middle-aged man who had balding blond hair, Bleue appeared

was using

from charging you

"Of course! We understand."

"Yes! We understand!"

clearly pissed off the Mercenary Gang's Chief, but he maintained

a purpose. Why don't we get

spoke was Lord Noir—an old man with gray hair and a

everyone in the room, he

a black cape, and jewels that had dark tints

attitude was reminiscent of

patriarch of the original family that began the Obsidian

and immaculate presentation made it impossible not to adore

him, the other two members

And… perhaps they were.

"You're right, Lord Noir!"

"Right indeed, Lord Noir!"

also finding their bickering to

slightly—his pure black irises telling her to go ahead with

forces to cripple the Blanc