Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss-Chapter 147: Iron In The Mud

The battlefield was quiet as the sky slowly turned gray. Of course, this was not the main reason it was quiet. It was because there was no war.

Most of the dross had been taken off the battlefield, weapons had been recovered, and corpses had been moved. All that remained were the deep furrows in the ground, the pieces of clothes and the shattered weapons.

There was also the barrier of earth, half crumbled, that Ren avoided looking at. That was where they’d protected their father. Where Darius had died.

He swallowed, looking up. The clouds continued to gather, wind brushed against the edges of the world, and the scent of rain hung in the air.

Ren, who was standing at the edge of the field, sniffed, and looked down at the metal coin in his hand.

"You sure this’ll work?" Thorn asked beside him, crouched low and pushing another coin into the ground, burying it with the earth.

His cloak fluttered behind him, damp from mist, the hilt of his sword peeking over his shoulder. Those were his two battle useful imbuements. His cloak was like a writhing shield that Thorn could control to block anything, while his sword could elongate, shrink, and twist around the battlefield, allowing him to kill anyone even from around a corner.

Ren nodded to himself, a memory of a popular anime character coming to mind. "It’ll work." He said. "Once the fighting starts, I won’t have time to move like a normal man. I need to be everywhere at once. This is how."

They had begun at sunrise, and now, the afternoon had crept in unnoticed.

Thousands of coins had been scattered across the fields, buried under the ground. They hadn’t just stopped there but had also gone around the dome, burying coins near every pillar still standing.

Thorn buried another coin into the earth, patting the ground gently over it. "If this works, people will be telling stories about you for centuries. The Ghost Knight of House Ross. The Everywhere Knight."

Ren chuckled dryly at the notion. "I don’t care about the stories." He exhaled. "I just want to end this. One more battle and it’s all over."

Thorn paused, then leaned back on his heels. "What happens if we don’t? What happens if they escape again?"

Ren said nothing for a long while. The wind howled around them.

"Then we fight until there’s no one left to fight."

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Thorn grunted. "Hell of a legacy."

They kept walking, burying coins behind them like breadcrumbs.

"You know," Thorn said softly, "in case I don’t make it out..."

Ren stopped and turned to him, frowning. "Don’t start."

"Just listen." Thorn insisted. "Please."

Ren said nothing.

"In case I don’t... I want you to know that whatever happened with Darius, with Vesper, with Lord Rosefield, it’s not your fault. Not really. No one blames you for it."

They should. Ren said to himself.

"We all made our choices." Thorn continued. "And I want you to live, Ren. I want you to get out of this. Find peace. Lilith. A real future."

"What about your peace, Thorn?" Ren looked away, jaw tight. "You’re not dying."

Thorn gave a weak smile. "That’s the plan. But if it comes down to it, I want you to survive. That’s not a request, it’s a last wish."

"Then don’t make it your last." Ren muttered, kneeling to bury another coin.

They kept walking, silence falling again. The clouds above darkened even more and the first drop of rain hit Ren’s cheek. Then another. Then a thousand.

Soon, the rain was falling hard, soaking their cloaks, and flattening the mud around them. The battlefield soon turned slick under their boots. But they didn’t stop.

Still, they walked. And still, they planted.

Ren pulled his hood up, shaking water from his eyes. Thorn didn’t bother.

"You ever think about what you’d be if all this hadn’t happened?" Thorn asked, voice barely audible under the rain. "If there were no grand adventures for us to go on. No wars. If you were just Terence Ross, third son of House Ross."

"All the time." Ren admitted. "Sometimes I imagine myself as a smith, trying to recreate wonders from the world I left behind. Sometimes I invent something wonderful, sometimes all I have are pieces of trash."

"Sometimes, I imagine myself as a farmer. Somewhere quiet, doing something simple. Tilling the land and figuring out the joys of crop rotation."

"A farmer? You wouldn’t last a week." Thorn said with a grin. "You’ll grow too restless for your own good."

Ren chuckled. Thorn wasn’t exactly wrong. "What about you?" He asked.

"Easy. Tavern owner. I’d own a nice little place by a river. It has to be by a river. I’ll name it something dumb, like Thorn’s Thirst. Or maybe The Sword and Mug. I get to serve people and relax at the same time."

Ren laughed. A real laugh. The first in days.

Thorn smiled, then grew quiet again. "When this is over, what do you say we build that tavern. Together."

"Deal." Ren grinned. "Only if we name it Glorious Ren’s."

"Nah. That name’s too dumb. Even for me." They shared a laugh and continued their work.

They finished the last row of coin placements in silence, and by now, the rain had soaked them through, mud clinging to their boots, water dripping from their sleeves.

Now, the battlefield was an empty sea of mud and iron, waiting for the storm of war.

As they turned back toward the castle, Ren looked over his shoulder at the field.

Every buried coin was an investment. A promise. One to be paid with the blood of the barbarians.

Thorn saw the look in his eyes and nudged him. "They’ll never see it coming."

Ren nodded. "They won’t."

They walked together, heads down, the rain falling harder with each step. The silhouette of Ross Castle stood ahead, and thunder rolled in the distance.

The seeds have been planted. And soon, the flowers shall bloom.