The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice

Only ninety students remained.

The end was near.

Yet, he hadn't found Vynesaa.

His breath came slow and controlled.

'Where the hell is she?' he thought.

And not just her—'Lyrius, Calenthir Reyes, even Darian—none of them had crossed his path.'

By now, he should have encountered at least one of them.

The examination's final stage had turned into a game of strategy.

The strongest had formed small groups, hunting down the isolated and weak before turning on each other.

It was a simple yet ruthless strategy: eliminate the loners.

He and Fianna had been lucky so far. That luck wouldn't last.

And yet, Caspian had somehow slipped through every major battle without encountering a single familiar face.

**How low is my luck?**

You've been standing there for too long," Fianna muttered beside him.

Her arms were crossed, her eyes scanning their surroundings. "Something on your mind?"

"Regretting teaming up with me?"

Caspian exhaled. "No. Just thinking."

Fianna raised an eyebrow. "A dangerous pastime."

Caspian gave her a sideways glance but didn't argue.

They had been fighting together for 4 days now, covering each other's backs as alliances crumbled and new enemies surfaced.

It was an unspoken agreement—both knew they would eventually have to face each other, but for now, survival came first.

"The strong are grouping up," Caspian murmured. "Yet we're still running around in pairs."

Fianna shrugged. "I don't trust easily."

"You trust me?"

She tilted her head slightly, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. "No."

Then, the wind shifted.

Fianna stiffened first.

Caspian felt it a second later—a disturbance in the silence, an unnatural stillness in the air.

Four figures emerged from the shadows, moving with the ease of seasoned hunters. Two girls, two boys.

'Oh fuck! Really how low is my luck '

Caspian's grip on Bloodmoon tightened.

'And if I am not wrong that violet haired is Varael'

The tallest of the group, a boy with dark violet hair and a confident smirk, spoke first.

"Look what we have here. The blooded noble and the quiet swordsman."

Fianna rolled her shoulders, a faint glow of embers flickering around her fingertips. "You sound pleased to see us."

The other girl, petite with sharp green eyes, let out a light chuckle. "Of course. You're worth of points."

Caspian remained silent, analyzing their stance, their weapons, the way they positioned themselves.

**They're expecting an easy fight.**

The last boy, shorter but built like a brawler, cracked his knuckles. "Let's not waste time, then."

Caspian exhaled slowly. He and Fianna stood back-to-back.

"Any brilliant strategies?" she murmured.

"No."

The moment the first attack came, Fianna moved.

Flames erupted around her, scorching the ground as she twisted away from the stocky boy's lunge.

He barely had time to raise his arms before a blazing arc from her sword forced him back.

The other two—both girls—closed in immediately, one wielding a pair of daggers coated in a shimmering blue poison, the other pulling water from the air to form a spear.

Caspian barely had a second to register Fianna taking on three before his own opponent was upon him.

The violet-haired boy's blade flashed forward, the speed unnatural.

CLACK

Caspian barely parried in time, the impact ringing through his arms.

Fast. Precise.

A second strike came before he even recovered, forcing him to twist sideways.

CLANK

Caspian countered with a downward slash, but the violet-haired boy sidestepped effortlessly.

"You're holding back," his Varael said, voice calm.

Caspian didn't answer.

He was too focused on reading his movements—waiting for a mistake.

Behind him, Fianna was holding off three enemies alone.

The stocky boy she had forced back was charging again, his fists coated in hardened earth.

The air shimmered with heat as Fianna spun to meet him, slashing downward—but her blade stopped inches away from his skin.

A layer of condensed rock had formed over his chest.

"Tch." Fianna pivoted mid-strike, shifting her momentum into a flaming kick aimed at his head.

The stocky boy ducked—but the fire trailing behind her heel erupted on impact with the ground, sending molten cracks racing toward him.

The girl with daggers moved in next, her movements erratic but frighteningly fast.

Fianna deflected one dagger but had to lean back as the second sliced toward her throat.

At the same time, the girl with the water spear thrust forward, her weapon twisting midair—a controlled current extending its reach.

Fianna raised her free hand, and the temperature in the air skyrocketed.

'Infernal Reign.'

A burst of flames exploded from her palm, countering the water mid-strike and evaporating it in an instant.

SLASH!

But she wasn't fast enough to stop the dagger girl from slashing at her side.

Blood splattered against the scorched ground.

Fianna staggered back, gritting her teeth.

Too many opponents.

Too many angles. She could hold them off—but for how long?

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Caspian saw the blood and moved.

A sharp feint drew the violet-haired boy's sword high, just enough for Caspian to break the rhythm of their fight.

He didn't hesitate.

Didn't think.

He lunged forward, closing the gap between them—Bloodmoon flashing upward wolf like head on it's tip.

The violet-haired boy's eyes widened in that brief instant before Caspian's blade tore through his throat.

A choked gasp.

Blood sprayed.

The boy collapsed.

Caspian didn't watch him fall.

Caspian turned.

The moment he did, a silver arc of light slashed through the air.

He barely caught a glimpse before—

Fianna jerked.

Her body froze mid-step.

Her golden-red eyes widened—just for a second. A shallow breath escaped her lips.

For a second, Caspian didn't move.

Didn't think.

The battlefield noise faded into a dull, ringing silence.

Fianna was gone.

Just like that.

The three remaining opponents stood there, eyes shifting between him and Fianna's fallen form.

The stocky boy with the rock-infused fists. The girl with the daggers still dripping with her blood. The one with the water spear, standing exactly where she had been when the elimination strike landed.

They were already looking past her.

They had moved on.

Caspian's fingers curled around Bloodmoon's hilt.

A slow breath.

A single thought.

I want to cut them apart.

No, that wasn't enough.

I want to boil their skin, slice open their throats, hear them beg before I end them.