The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice

Caspian stepped forward, looking the boy up and down.

"Where is Lyrius right now?"

The boy didn't answer. His gaze darted left and right.

"Just… follow me," he muttered.

Caspian stopped walking.

His instincts screamed.

Something wasn't right.

This boy was nervous. Too nervous.

"Wait a minute," Caspian said coldly. "Let me call him first."

The boy panicked.

"N-No need! I already know where he is!" he stammered.

That was all the confirmation Caspian needed.

Within a second—he moved.

He closed the distance in a blur, grabbing the boy by the neck and slamming him against the doorframe.

"Tell me the truth." Caspian's voice was ice-cold.

The boy broke down instantly.

"P-Please! Help me!" he sobbed.

Caspian's grip tightened.

"Help you?" he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. "You were about to lead me into a trap. Why should I help you?"

The boy started crying.

"They—they're hurting my brother!"

Caspian's eyes darkened.

"Who?"

"Eirak and Jaxar! Those second-years!"

Caspian exhaled.

"They—hic—they said if I brought you to them, they'd let my brother go!"

Caspian stared at him.

A second-year student, selling out a first-year to save his own brother.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, Caspian scoffed.

"And you thought betraying me would make you stronger?"

The boy flinched.

Caspian glanced at his student ID.

[Name: Lior Vernhardt]

[Second-Year Student]

"So even second-years aren't safe from their bullying."

The moment Lior saw Caspian reading his ID, his shoulders slumped.

"I… I didn't have a choice," Lior whispered.

Caspian released him, stepping back.

"How many of them are there?" he asked.

Lior wiped his tears. "A-Around 9 or 10."

Caspian sighed.

"10 against 1. Typical."

He pulled out his phone.

Dialing a number.

Lior looked confused.

"W-Who are you calling?"

Caspian didn't answer.

After a moment, he hung up.

Then, he turned to Lior.

"Let's go."

Lior hesitated. "A-Are you sure?"

Caspian gave him a look.

"Weren't you about to trade me for your brother?" he said coldly. "Don't act like you suddenly care."

Lior winced.

Caspian rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.

"Just tell me where they are."

Because now?

His blood burned like molten steel in his veins.

His hands clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms, but the pain barely registered.

Eirak.

Jaxar.

The names echoed in his mind, louder than anything.

These bastards—his so-called brothers.

The same ones who had tormented him for years. The ones who had beaten him until he could barely breathe, who had broken his ribs like they were mere twigs, who had taught him the taste of blood and the feeling of utter helplessness.

And now, they were here.

His breathing grew heavier. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

For a moment, his vision blurred—memories of the past trying to claw their way back.

Not again.

Never again.

The second-year guiding him hesitated before stopping in front of a large, isolated storage room.

The faint flickering of the lanterns barely illuminated the inside.

A soft, broken whimper. A choked sob. The sound of laughter—mocking, cruel, inhuman.

Caspian stepped inside.

What he saw made his blood turn to ice.

A boy—completely naked, his body covered in bruises—was bound by thick ropes, tied like an animal to a wooden post. His head hung low, hair disheveled, his body trembling violently from humiliation and pain.

Students—about ten of them—were surrounding him.

Laughing.

Taking pictures.

And then—

One of them unfastened his pants and pissed on the boy.

Caspian stopped breathing.

Everything around him faded. The walls, the people, the dim lighting—none of it mattered anymore.

All he could see was himself in that position. His younger self. The helpless boy who had begged for mercy, only to be met with more pain.

The students hadn't noticed him yet, but two figures at the center of the room had.

Eirak Arcwright.

Jaxar Arcwright.

One of them sat atop a crate, arms crossed, wearing the same infuriating smirk. Jaxar.

The other stood with his arms behind his back, looking down at the tied boy like a king watching an insect struggle. Eirak.

"Oi, oi," Jaxar chuckled, kicking the bound boy's face lightly, making him fall sideways. "Don't pass out yet. We're just getting started."

"Right," Eirak said,He crouched down, grabbing the boy's hair, forcing him to look up.

He let go, making the boy collapse into the puddle of filth beneath him.

Caspian moved.

Before either of them could react—

CRACK!

Caspian's fist connected with Jaxar's face, sending him flying back into a pile of crates. The impact was so strong that the wood shattered beneath him, splinters scattering across the floor.

Before anyone could even process what had happened—

BANG!

Caspian's leg shot forward, slamming straight into Eirak's jaw. The older boy staggered, barely staying on his feet, blood dripping from his split lip.

For a brief second, silence filled the room.

Then—

"Kill him!" one of the lackeys screamed.

The other second-years lunged at Caspian at once.

Caspian fought back like a rabid wolf, his movements sharp, precise, brutal. He grabbed the wrist of the first attacker, twisting it with a sickening snap.

Another student swung at him, but Caspian ducked, driving his elbow into the guy's ribs hard enough to make him collapse, coughing violently.

But there were too many.

Ten against one.

Someone grabbed Caspian's arm. Another struck him in the gut. A third kicked him from behind.

Pain exploded through his body, but he didn't stop fighting.

Even as fists rained down on him—

Even as blood dripped from his nose—

Even as his vision blurred from the sheer number of enemies—

He laughed.

A wild, bitter laugh, echoing through the room like a war drum.

You think I'm scared of pain?

His torn lips curved into a bloody grin.

Eirak and Jaxar stepped forward, their expressions twisted with anger and sadistic pleasure.

"You should've stayed quiet, little brother," Jaxar sneered.

Eirak grabbed the front of Caspian's shirt, yanking it open, tearing the fabric apart. "Let's remind you who's in charge here."

The lackeys pinned Caspian down.

Jaxar cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, let's start by breaking a few of his ribs."

And then—

BOOM!

A shockwave blasted through the room.

Before Eirak could even react, his body was sent flying. He crashed against the wall, hard enough to crack the stone.

Jaxar barely had time to turn his head before—

A blur of silver and black shot forward.

Zareth.

The elven prince stood in the center of the chaos.

A heavy, suffocating pressure filled the room. The air around him shimmered, distorting with the sheer force of his presence.

Silence.

Pure, deathly silence.

Zareth turned his gaze toward Caspian, his usually calm expression darkened with rage.

"Who the hell gave you insects permission to touch him?"

Jaxar groaned, struggling to rise from the ground. "Tch… Who the fuck—"

CRACK!

Before he could even finish speaking, Zareth's foot smashed into his stomach, sending him rolling across the floor like a ragdoll.

Zareth flicked his wrist, and golden energy surged around him.

The second-years froze in fear.

Caspian, still pinned down, could only watch as his old tormentors trembled before the person he had called for help.

For the first time in his life—

Jaxar and Eirak looked afraid.