An Extra's POV: My Three Fiancees Hate Me-Chapter 162: Almost died

Boom!

Quin shot back, slammed onto the river’s surface, rolled once, and skidded to a stop. His boots hissed as they glided over the water. He looked up—Luke was already rushing at him like a bullet.

Quin smiled, unbothered.

"You seem too confident in your abilities," he said.

Luke didn’t respond. His tendrils lashed forward, vicious and jagged like spears. Quin moved back, feet skating on the surface, and leapt into the air. His sword came down in a gleam of silver.

Luke pulled back just in time. The attack slammed into the river, splitting the current in two and sending a massive wave outward. Water sprayed everywhere.

Luke looked around for Quin but couldn’t see him.

"Look behind," Quin’s voice whispered.

Luke spun instantly, tendrils whipping around like wild snakes. Quin ducked under them, graceful as a shadow, and lunged forward, sword gleaming.

"You can’t defeat me!" Luke shouted. He threw both hands forward, forming a burning black fireball that exploded inches from Quin’s chest.

Boom!

Steam blasted upward, masking everything. The river churned under the heat.

But when the water fell back down, Quin was still standing. Unharmed. Sword resting lazily on his shoulder.

Luke froze. His face twisted in disbelief.

Quin met his stare calmly.

"Did you really think you stood a chance against me... because you got one hit in before?" he said, eyes sharp. "Don’t be deluded."

Then he vanished.

Luke turned again, frantic, senses flaring. He scanned the space, but Quin wasn’t invisible. He was moving—so fast Luke couldn’t even track him. His body became a blur, a sliver of movement slicing through the river air.

Luke tensed.

Suddenly—

Quin darted in from the side, sword already mid-swing. Luke barely twisted, a tendril coiling around his neck at the last second, taking the full blow.

Crack!

He was flung back violently, skidding and bouncing off the river’s surface before sinking under.

Quin watched quietly. He walked forward, boots still touching water like it was solid.

He stopped and looked down.

Luke shot up from beneath with shocking speed, black tendrils spiraling behind him, water trailing his body like a comet tail.

"What exactly are you?" Quin muttered. He sidestepped as Luke erupted from the water, narrowly dodging.

Luke’s face was twisted in rage now. He didn’t speak. He just charged, tendrils snapping.

Quin parried them one after the other, effortless and clean.

Quin stepped forward, closing the gap instantly, and went for another cut. Luke leapt back and threw a fireball.

Quin sliced through the black flames without pausing.

Luke kept attacking. He was breathing heavily now. His swings were wild, desperate. Each step backward sprayed water. Each fireball was sloppier than the last.

"You’re getting sloppy," Quin said. "Tired already?" freewebnoveℓ.com

Luke growled and pushed forward again. His tendrils tried to box Quin in, but Quin slipped through, reading his movements like a book.

Another strike—Quin ducked. A tendril whipped—Quin cut it clean.

Luke hissed in pain.

"You fight like someone who only recently got power," Quin said. "No discipline. No foundation. You’re not dangerous—you’re just loud."

"Shut up!" Luke roared.

The tendrils exploded outward, dozens now, writhing in every direction. Black flames erupted around him in a ring, crackling and unstable.

He screamed, his voice raw. "You don’t know anything about me!"

"You’re right." Quin’s voice came from the air.

Then his blade came down like lightning.

Luke raised a wall of tendrils—but they shattered. The sword sliced through them like they were paper.

He was thrown back again, hitting the island hard. Rocks cracked beneath his back and blood sprayed from his mouth. He tried to rise—but his arms shook. His legs trembled.

Quin didn’t approach yet. He waited. Watching.

Luke growled. His body ached. His vision was blurring. But he refused to fall. Rage poured through him. A blind, overwhelming anger.

"I’ll kill him."

He let go. He let the rage consume him.

His tendrils thickened—more wild, less human. His skin blistered, flames erupting from his shoulders, black and smoking. His mouth stretched into a scream.

He leapt again.

The sky above the river went dark from the smoke. Tendrils flooded toward Quin.

This time, Quin stood still.

He waited for the impact.

At the last second, he struck—not with power, but precision. His sword moved like a whisper, slicing in between tendrils, cutting them mid-air, severing them easily.

Luke howled.

"You want me to fight seriously?" Quin asked.

He disappeared again.

Then—three clean strikes.

One across the side.

One across the thigh.

One straight into Luke’s abdomen.

Blood poured.

Luke staggered, eyes wide. His body refused to move.

Quin stood behind him now, calm, bored.

"This is why I didn’t try harder. You’re not worth it."

Luke turned with the last of his strength and screamed. He thrust his last tendril forward—shaped like a spear.

Quin sidestepped it.

Then he kicked.

The blow hit Luke’s chest with a sickening crunch. He flew back over the river, hit the water, skipped across like a stone, and finally sank deep.

Silence.

Quin waited.

Seconds passed. The river rippled. No movement.

But then—whoosh!

A blur shot underwater, swimming so fast it barely looked human. Luke. Bleeding. Burning. Fleeing.

Quin sighed. "Coward."

He raised his sword, channeling mana.

With one swing, the river split open for a dozen meters, parting the water in a perfect arc. But Luke had already curved off course.

Quin’s eyes narrowed. The river had nearly swallowed Luke, his body reduced to a blur weaving under the surface. Wounded. Fast. But not fast enough.

Without a word, Quin took off.

His feet skimmed the water with each step, barely making a splash. He moved like he was gliding along the water.

He followed the trail of blood beneath the surface. Luke was leaving behind more than just water. His movements were faltering. Slower. Weaker.

"You won’t crawl away," Quin muttered.

He swung his sword. An arc tore through the river like a lightning strike.

Luke screamed in pain underwater, creating bubbles.

Luke burst out, flung upward by the force. He hit a flat slab of floating rock near the center of the river, coughing hard. Blood ran down his chin. One of his tendrils had been severed completely.

He looked up—barely—just as Quin landed softly across from him.

"You’re still coming?" Luke rasped, his chest rising and falling. "You already... won."

"No," Quin said, eyes cold. "You ran. That’s not the same."

"I finish what I start," Quin said.

Luke screamed. His tendrils surged again, his flames burned brighter—flickering like the last breath of a dying torch. He charged in with a final roar, throwing everything he had left.

Quin didn’t move.

The tendrils shot toward him.

Then—slash!

He cut through them all in a single arc.

Another step. Another swing.

The sword pierced straight through Luke’s chest.

Luke froze. His eyes widened. His mouth fell open—but no words came out. He dropped to his knees, shaking, blood spilling down his front.

Quin pulled the blade free and turned away.

Luke’s body toppled into the river.

It floated briefly, then slowly sank, drifting beneath the surface. Down into the cold. The current pulled at him gently, as if trying to carry him further from the world.

His eyes were open. Unmoving.

Then—

Thud.

A heartbeat.

Faint. But there.

His finger twitched.

Another heartbeat. A small crack of black flame lit beneath his chest.

Down in the darkness, Luke’s eyes moved. Not fully. Not fast. But they moved.

His body slowly started to heal under the water as he lay there.

His lips parted.

No sound came out.

Just breath.

Slowly, his breathing stabilized. He kicked his leg and swam out of the water. He looked in the direction of the island, his blood boiling. He believed he had grown strong, and he was able to take anything and anyone—only for Quin to completely destroy him. He had almost died now.

Luke decided that he wasn’t chasing anymore. He would return and continue growing stronger somewhere that Quin wasn’t. But the moment he thought all those thoughts, he felt a piercing pain in his head.

"Arghhhhhh." The pain got higher and higher.

After a few seconds, the voice came, and it started instructing Luke.

"Take him down, take him down." The voice played on repeat inside his head, so much that he wasn’t able to think of anything else, and soon, his sense of danger and preservation vanished, and all that was left was the undying lust to kill Noel and Riven.

His eyes went cold and empty, and a small crack appeared on his face. He started swimming in the direction of the island again, swimming faster as his body healed up even more.

Finally, he made it to the island—a part of it where no one was—and he climbed on.

"I’m going to eat you, Riven," he said in a cold tone.

[Author’s note: sorry if the writing of this Chapter felt off and not my usual style, I was trying something new and it’s not going to continue in the future Chapters, only this one]

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