Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss

A shrill, unnatural scream pierced the skies.

The sound erupted from the being that had once been Halwen.

Now, all that was left was an infected whose voice was warped and ragged, its scream a harmony of rage. A twisted song of the Red Plague.

His head jerked upward unnaturally as he howled into the afternoon sky, blood pouring from his ruined mouth as glowing veins snaked across his throat and down his chest.

The scream rolled across the town like a curse.

And the infected, those in the town that were still sleeping beneath floors, crouched in corners, hidden behind barrels and doorways, woke up.

First, one pair of red eyes flared to life in a shattered window.

Then another. And another.

Dozens. Hundreds.

From the rooftops, alleyways, and the creaking boards of abandoned buildings, they emerged like ants from a hive. Bones cracked, joints clicked. They began to run.

"Go!" Ren shouted, his voice hard as steel.

He and Lilith raced down the main street, joining the fleeing warriors. Valen was already far ahead, slicing a path through the horde. Ren and Lilith held the backline, slashing and slamming through the infected as they swarmed in from every corner.

Behind them, the town shuddered with the sound of dozens of infected raking and scrabbling to catch them.

One flung itself from a rooftop, howling. Ren spun, slashing it in mid-air, the blade of his borrowed sword cleaving through its chest. Blood splattered across the cobbles, hissing as it hit the earth.

They were barely keeping ahead.

Then, there was a shout.

One of the soldiers tripped. His bag burst open on the ground, dried meat and grains spilling across the road like blood.

"No!" Another soldier cried. "Forget it! Keep running!"

But the man dropped to his knees, frantically scooping up every bit of food he could, heedless of the approaching growls.

"Idiot!" Ren growled, swerving as he tried to close the distance.

An infected crashed down from above, landing on the soldier with a sickening crunch. The scream that followed was brief, and then abruptly cut off.

Ren didn't slow. His sword flashed, and in a single motion, he cut them both down, his sword slicing through the infected and the soldier.

The soldier that was at the pack winced but said nothing. They all knew it had to be done.

They pushed on, the game coming into view. There were already a few infected there, blocking the place, but valen made quick work of them, freeing up space.

Ren glanced back from the rear of the group to see the wave of infected closing in. Their howls and shrieks filled the air, the eerie sound of clicking bones and gnashing teeth an accompaniment to the whole thing.

Lilith stopped abruptly, turning to glare at the horde, her body glowing faintly as soul energy rose up around her. Her fingers lifted, already forming the threads of Soul Dominion, ready to bind the horde where they stood—

"No!" Ren barked, grabbing her wrist. "Don't use it!"

"But—!"

"Valen!" Ren shouted ahead.

Valen didn't look back. He just nodded once, slowing to a halt as the others sprinted past him.

"Take care of this." Ren instructed as he got to the man. Valen answered with a single nod.

Ren and Lilith turned, racing through the gate as the warriors poured out of the town, breath ragged and steps frantic.

One of the warriors glanced back to see Valen standing at the gate as the horde raced towards him. "What about him?!"

Ren mounted his horse as fast as he could. "He'll be fine!"

They kicked their mounts into motion, thundering down the road, leaving dust and blood behind them.

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Valen stood alone at the broken gate, blades in hand. The town lay in front of him.

He exhaled slowly, a faint buzz humming beneath his skin.

This was the way he liked it. Just him and insurmountable odds. This was why he'd been following Ren. The young lord had delivered.

The infected rushed toward him, a crashing wave of teeth and claws, shrieks rising to a crescendo.

And Valen moved.

He became a blur. Twin swords dancing in his hands like light made metal. He slashed through them as if they were made of straw, spinning and weaving, dodging explosions as the infected began to detonate mid-lunge.

They learned quickly as the fight went on, trying different ways to catch him.

The moment he saw them swell unnaturally, he leapt back, dodging the blast radius. Restoration surged within him, its power constantly recycling, healing his shallow wounds even as they appeared.

One infected managed to nick his cheek, and within seconds, before the plague even had a chance to burrow within him, the skin had already resealed.

Another raked its claws across his side. The gash vanished before he could blink.

His lips twitched in amusement.

Finally! A challenge.

The horde began to retreat, hissing and snarling, their instincts beginning to override their aggression. And then, from their number, two infected walked out.

Both were tall, unnaturally proportioned mutations of what might once have been soldiers. Their arms had been replaced with enormous battle axes, fused to their limbs by bone and muscle. Their eyes burned brighter than the others. They growled in unison and stepped forward.

"Thank you." Valen whispered. Then slowly, a grin spread across his face.

He didn't wait.

He was on them in an instant. He ducked the first swing, his blade tearing through a section of the infected's chest.

He twisted away from the second's attack, flipped over its shoulder, and buried both blades into its spine. The creature howled, swinging wildly, but Valen dropped low, slicing its legs from beneath it.

The first infected charged.

Valen met it mid-stride, parrying the axe, spinning with a speed only a Restoration enhanced body could achieve, severed its arm in a single blow, and plunged his sword into its brain.

The second followed. Valen dashed up the side of a nearby cart, launched off it, and drove his sword through the monster's throat, severing its head.

Both collapsed, twitching.

Valen landed smoothly, not even out of breath.

Clapping echoed behind him.

He turned sharply.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the town square, his pale skin glowing under the sun. His eyes burned like twin coals, and his long black coat fluttered behind him. Red veins pulsed beneath the surface of his neck.

The Red Prophet.

"Well," the Prophet said, voice smooth as oil, "that was… entertaining."

Valen's stance shifted.

"I've heard of you, Valen the Wanderer." The Prophet continued, stepping forward with deliberate slowness. "The master thief of Elnoria. A ghost in the night. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Valen said nothing, blades ready.

The Red Prophet tilted his head, amused. "But I have to ask. Why waste yourself following someone like Terence Ross?"

Still, Valen didn't speak.

The Prophet smiled wider. "With me, you get to fight the entire Church and their powerful members. Isn't that what you crave? An actual challenge? I can give that to you."

He extended a hand, red mist coiling around his fingers like living thread.

"Here's my deal, Wanderer." The Prophet said. "Walk away from Ross. Serve the Red Tree. Be my sword. And I will give you the world."

A dark grin spread across his face. "What do you say?"