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.

the others, they also had the most

the boy that guarded her was

voice echoed within

the previous rulers of the Criminal

in the room knew what

governed all the activities of the Underworld were members of the

power and wealth

their children would also rise up to take

Hence, the culling.

related to the three Councilors were killed

was confirmed

be thanking you, Fenrir. Your Mercenary Gang took

this, her charming smile radiating so much goodwill,

he

black armless jacket on, exposing his muscular physique, and he wore pretty baggy

he appeared to be a ruffian who seemed barely interested

Still, he reluctantly remained.

"Whatever…" He murmured.

come on. Don't be so modest, Sir Fenrir." Lord Rouge

Bleue joined and

could not be the furthest thing from each

had balding blond hair, Bleue

he was using Magic to appear

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

"Of course! We understand."

"Yes! We understand!"

words clearly pissed off the Mercenary Gang's Chief, but he maintained control over his

for a purpose. Why don't we

was Lord Noir—an old man with gray hair and a snake-like

the room, he was dressed

black cape, and jewels that had dark tints

attitude was reminiscent

the current patriarch of the original family that began the Obsidian Council,

immaculate presentation made it

to him, the other two members of the Obsidian Council

And… perhaps they were.

"You're right, Lord Noir!"

"Right indeed, Lord Noir!"

man sighed, also finding their bickering

glanced at Scylla and nodded slightly—his pure black irises telling her to

on the original plan, the Mercenary Gang has sent their forces to cripple the Blanc House