The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice

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Time — 9:30

Test Ranking: 69

Kills: 68

Assists: 0

Total Points: 204

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Caspian stared at the numbers, his brows furrowing.

Bullshit.

"I've killed at least 200," he muttered under his breath. "Are they docking points? Adjusting rankings manually?"

He didn't like this.

'Cheater,'

Well the fact is Ranking were right.

Then he stretched his arms, exhaling slowly.

Rest was a resource, too.

When the clock struck 10:00 PM, Caspian pulled a compact tent from his void storage, setting it up within seconds.

He took out some stored food—dried meat, some fruits, a bit of bread.

Then, the highlight of his evening—

A cup of coffee.

Caspian took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle inside him.

Yes. This was it.

This was why he lived this life.

For the simple pleasure of a hot drink in the middle of a battlefield.

With that, he finished his meal and lay down.

Sleep came instantly.

________

Caspian's eyes snapped open the moment his ring vibrated against his skin. 6:00 AM.

His body was already moving before his mind fully woke up—folding his tent, securing his gear.

Bloodmoon pulsed in his grip, eager.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll get started soon," he muttered.

.

Caspian moved through the shifting landscape.

The ice region was merging with the others—frozen plains cracking to reveal sand dunes, mountain cliffs rising from forests.

And in the distance—

A group of five.

Perfect.

He didn't hesitate. He ran.

The moment they spotted him, weapons were drawn. No words. No pleasantries.

Just battle.

The first opponent lunged—a spear flashing forward, sharp and precise.

Too slow.

Caspian tilted his head, the spear barely grazing past his cheek.

His sword came down, cleaving through the attacker's shoulder, splitting him apart.

One down.

The next two moved in tandem—a swordsman and an archer.

Caspian dodged before the arrow left the string, closing the distance to the archer first.

Slash.

The archer fell, throat slit cleanly.

The swordsman gasped, eyes wide with panic. Too late to retreat.

Caspian's elbow slammed into his jaw, knocking him off balance, then—one quick stab.

Three down.

The last two hesitated.

Then—one of them dropped his weapon, hands raised in surrender.

"P-Please," he stammered. "I have to pass. My family—they're depending on me. If I fail, I—"

The second one dropped to his knees as well. "We'll leave. We won't fight you. Just let us go—please."

Caspian stared at them.

He thought about it.

And then—

SLASH!

Blood painted the ground.

"Try again next year," Caspian muttered, stepping past the bodies.

Hesitation had no place here.

No mercy. No regrets. Just forward.

But before he could go far—

"AAAHHHHHHHH!"

A piercing scream split the air.

Caspian's head snapped toward the sound.

His instincts screamed at him.

And then he ran.

The scream had barely faded when Caspian arrived at the scene—his instincts sharp, his mind already assessing the battlefield.

And what he saw—

A sea of bodies.

Scorched earth.

The air was thick with the scent of burnt flesh, smoke curling upwards from the charred remains of nearly ten students.

Their bodies lay motionless, some twisted in unnatural angles, others barely recognizable under the searing aftermath of flames.

Most of them were silent.

A few were crying.

And at the center of it all—

Death, standing amidst the destruction.

Caspian's breath steadied as he took in the overwhelming heat that radiated from the lone survivor.

Fire.

A swirling storm of crimson and gold, crackling with violent intensity.

A power too strong, too wild.

His mind raced.

A fire ability this strong…

In the novel, there were only a handful of contenders.

Fianna? Celena? Could it be Valti?

No.

As he stepped closer, the details sharpened.

White hair.

Blue eyes.

Clothes stained red.

Caspian's breath hitched.

Fianna Redmond.

His fiancée.

No—his ex-fiancée.

The first person who had never discarded him.

His heart clenched—an emotion he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years clawing its way to the surface.

His rational mind told him to stay put, to observe, to analyze—

But his body moved before he could think.

His feet pounded against the scorched ground, the embers still glowing beneath him, as if something buried deep within him was screaming—

See her. Get closer.

It made no sense.

He knew it was her family—the Redmonds—who had orchestrated his death.

And yet—

She hadn't.

She was the only one who—

Fianna turned.

Their eyes met.

For the briefest moment, something flickered in those cold, blue irises.

Recognition?

No—

Rage.

Before he could react—

She moved.

Faster than he expected.

Blazing.

A blur of red and gold, her entire body wreathed in fire.

Lunge.

CRACK!

A fist slammed into his stomach.

Pain exploded through his core.

THUD!

His vision blurred as his body launched backward, skidding across the ground.

But it wasn't over.

Fianna's silhouette flashed forward before he could fully regain his footing.

Her fist—this time aimed at his face.

Caspian raised his arm.

He stopped it.

The heat seared against his skin, but his grip held firm.

The fight had begun.

_________

Comments Section:

<< "That's the one fight I've been waiting for!"

"YES. GO, FIANNA, QUEEN."

"Rank 5 vs. Rank 68. This is gonna be INSANE.">>

_________

[POV: Darian Vael]

"Ahh"

'Oh, fuck it.'

'Why—why does this feel so good?'

The thrill. The rush.

The way their bodies crumple, their faces frozen in that last moment of horror before everything turns dark.

Hahaha.

Darian's blade tore through another student's chest. Thirty-four.

He liked this.

No—he loved this.

Not the killing. Not the blood. The feeling.

His muscles screamed, his body burned—but he didn't care. This was what he lived for.

To fight. To win.

His next target stumbled back, begging, "P-Please! I—"

SLASH.

His sword silenced the words before they could waste his time.

Darian let out a breath, watching the life fade from the boy's eyes.

Too weak. Not enough.

He wanted more.

More.

Then his taught drifted to white haired guy he meet at first.

'Wait, For me young man,'