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.

they also had the most qualified of

for Scylla… the boy that guarded her

echoed within the bright room, causing everyone to give her their

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

in the room

of the Underworld

had enough power and wealth

deaths, there was the fear that their children would also

Hence, the culling.

related to the three Councilors

was

Your Mercenary Gang took care of everything practically

charming smile radiating so much goodwill, Fenrir

he had a bald chin, traces

muscular physique, and he wore pretty baggy trousers, with boots serving

a ruffian who

Still, he reluctantly remained.

"Whatever…" He murmured.

Don't be so modest, Sir Fenrir."

Indeed!" Bleue joined and

be the

blond hair, Bleue appeared to be lanky; with

using Magic

from charging you full price

"Of course! We understand."

"Yes! We understand!"

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

for a purpose. Why don't we

one who spoke was Lord Noir—an old man with gray hair

of everyone in the room, he

and jewels that had dark

and composed attitude was reminiscent of a classical

the current patriarch of the original family that began the Obsidian Council, Lord Noir was met with the respect of

immaculate presentation made it impossible not to adore

him, the other two members of the Obsidian Council

And… perhaps they were.

"You're right, Lord Noir!"

"Right indeed, Lord Noir!"

sighed, also finding

Scylla and nodded slightly—his pure black

their forces to cripple the Blanc House while completely eradicating the Jaune