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

The third Fury crouched low, her broken wrist dangling, her other hand flexed like a claw.

Her breaths came in quick bursts as she stared at Lilith through the blindfold, head twitching slightly every second.

That was the rhythm of her Sight, her ability to see glimpses of the next second, predictions dancing through her brain faster than most could think.

And yet, she was afraid.

Lilith rolled her shoulders and began circling.

"I thought you were supposed to be able to see the future." Lilith said conversationally, like she wasn't stalking her prey. "And here I was worried this would be a challenge."

The Fury hissed, blood dripping down her elbow. "I do see it. Every move, every twitch. But…"

Lilith darted forward with a flick of her wrist. A knife blurred, then another, aimed at her chest, then her thigh, then a feint at her shoulder.

The Fury twisted with unnatural grace, ducking and sidestepping each attack.

"…but you're too fast." She muttered, parrying the final knife with a clawed finger. She could see Lilith's moves, but Lilith could take her off guard, by moving faster than her predictions for just a second.

And in a fight such as this, a second might as well have been an eternity.

Lilith smiled.

"I'm not just fast." Her voice was cold. "I'm angry."

She came again, this time with a sudden burst of speed, blades moving in wide arcs. The Fury backpedaled, narrowly evading the flurry, only to stumble on uneven ground.

Her eyes widened as Lilith's hand descended, knife glinting in the moonlight as it headed straight for her heart. With a grunt, she adjusted at the last second, her prediction saving her again.

Barely.

Lilith lunged low, and her elbow smashed into the Fury's ribs with a crack.

The woman flew back, landing hard. Her body bounced once against the earth.

She coughed blood and scrambled upright, shaking.

"I see it! I see your attacks— but I can't… why can't I keep up?!"

Lilith approached slowly, not even breathing hard.

"Because you see the moves," she whispered, "but not the intentions."

She threw a knife, then darted left. The Fury predicted the path and spun right, to avoid an attack that never came.

Lilith had feinted.

The next second, she was already behind her. A slash opened the Fury's calf, sending her stumbling again.

"You see the moment." Lilith murmured, stepping in. "I am the moment."

The Fury shrieked and slashed wildly, blood dripping down her leg. Her remaining hand moved fast, trying to catch Lilith off guard, but the rhythm was broken. The gap between her vision and her body had widened.

Lilith ducked beneath a desperate strike and drove her knee into the Fury's stomach. The woman gasped, and Lilith caught her by the throat, lifting her off the ground.

"I've had to smile while people questioned my sanity." She said, voice shaking with emotion. "I've had to pretend to be quiet while watching someone try to seduce my husband."

She slammed the Fury into the ground hard enough to make the snow bounce.

"And now…" She raised her knife. "You get to help me let go."

The Fury threw her hand up for a final desperate attack, one last prediction, one last dodge, but Lilith was already past it.

Her knife slipped under the Fury's hand and pierced her shoulder, nailing her to the frozen ground.

The Fury screamed.

Lilith knelt beside her, brushing back the blood-matted hair from her blindfold.

"You were fast." Lilith whispered. "But I was angry. And I don't lose when I'm angry."

The Fury choked, spitting blood. "I— I saw myself winning—"

"You saw wrong." Lilith twisted the knife and leaned close. "Now stay dead."

With a final thrust, she slid her blade across the woman's throat.

The screaming stopped.

The clearing around them was silent. Even the wind around the blizzard edge held its breath.

Lilith stood slowly, blood trailing down her arm and splattered across her cheek. She turned back to the battlefield, her gaze calm again.

Stress… relieved.

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Thorn ducked low as a blur of movement cut the air where his head had just been.

The second Fury was already closing in, her footsteps light as feathers, her blindfold fluttering with each step like she could still see everything. Maybe she could.

Her claws glinted in the moonlight as she swiped again. Thorn jumped back, his breath ragged.

He'd gone from racing in a jungle to jogging nonstop in a blizzard, and had ended up in this fight.

Sometimes, he felt like Lilith and Ren forget that he's the least powerful one among them. The normal one. He didn't have their strength, nor endurance, and that wasn't more apparent than right now.

He raised his bone arm defensively, trying to block the blow from the Fury.

Normally, he'd have his lengthening sword in one hand, cloak moving around him like a second shield. He felt half-naked without them.

It was like forgetting your lines in the middle of a play. Every instinct was muffled. Every swing felt clumsy.

But the Fury didn't stop.

She moved like wind, slicing in, slicing away, reading his stance before he even shifted weight.

Clack!

Her claw scraped across his bone arm, a flash of sparks igniting between them. She twirled away before he could retaliate, graceful and frustrating.

Thorn snarled and lunged forward, his left fist swinging in a tight arc.

She wasn't there anymore.

She'd already predicted the strike, twisting aside and slashing at his ribs. Only a last second pivot saved him from being gutted, but her claws still scraped across his side.

Thorn grunted in pain and backed away, clutching his side. The cloth was torn, blood warm against his skin. The cold of the clearing seeped in, sliding deep into his bones.

"You're slower than I expected." She said softly, her voice oddly disappointed. "I thought you'd be more… clever."

"Sorry." Thorn spat, trying to mask the burn in his lungs. "I left my genius at home."

He charged again, swinging high, feinting low, but she read it all.

She always read it.

Every movement, every angle, every attack. It was like she was already two steps ahead. He couldn't land a single clean hit.

It wasn't a fight. It was a performance. And the worst part? She had written the script already.

He slammed his bone arm into the ground, sending a spray of snow through the air, covering himself from view, then he swept through the side, hoping to take her off guard.

His eyes widened as she danced behind him, her claws traveling across his back in a shallow slice. He spun, rage and fear mixing in his chest.

She was toying with him. Cutting deeper every time.

And he couldn't stop her.

Thorn stumbled back, his boots sliding against the snow. His breath came fast and uneven. His entire body felt heavy.

'I'm not fast enough. Not smart enough. Not good enough.'

Another slash grazed his arm. He nearly dropped to one knee.

She stood across from him, blindfold fluttering, claws glinting.

"You're not the one." She said gently. "You were never the one."

And for the first time in a long time, Thorn felt it. The bitter taste of helplessness.

Despair bloomed in his chest.

He was going to die.