The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice

Caspian stepped forward as the second floor faded into nothingness.

A new platform emerged—a vast expanse of smooth black stone stretching into the unknown.

No walls. No doors. No enemy in sight.

His instincts sharpened.

'There's always something.'

A soft whisper brushed against his ears—yet there was no voice.

Then—

The air itself shifted.

Something moved.

Not footsteps. Not wind.

But—presence.

Caspian ducked.

A blade slashed past his head—silent.

His eyes widened.

Nothing was there.

'No shadow. No figure. No outline.'

Yet—something had attacked.

Caspian leaped back, sword raised.

His grip on Bloodmoon tightened.

'An enemy I can't see?'

The whispering grew louder.

And then—

Another strike.

Faster. Sharper. Untraceable.

Caspian barely twisted his body—the blade carved into his shoulder.

Pain flared.

Blood dripped onto the black stone.

Yet—he saw nothing.

His thoughts raced.

'If I can't see it… then how do I fight it?'

Another slash.

This time, he parried blindly.

Clang!

His sword met something real.

For just a split second—

He felt it.

A presence. A form. A weight behind the attack.

Then—it was gone.

Caspian exhaled sharply.

This wasn't just an invisible enemy.

It was something worse.

It wasn't just hiding.

It was erasing itself.

His mind snapped into action.

'Speed is useless if I can't track it.'

'Strength means nothing if I can't hit it.'

There was only one way forward.

He had to rely on instinct.

On prediction.

Caspian closed his eyes.

He wasn't going to see his opponent.

But he could feel it.

The whispers shifted.

The air changed.

Caspian moved—before the attack came.

His blade swung—

And this time—

He struck something solid.

A soundless gasp.

Then—

The invisible form flickered.

A figure—distorted, half-formed, like a shadow torn from reality.

Caspian didn't hesitate.

He attacked again.

This time, he didn't miss.

Bloodmoon tore through the figure—severing it in two.

A final whisper—fading into silence.

Then—

The black stone cracked.

The trial was over.

And ahead of him—

The fourth floor began to rise.

.

The moment the trial began, Caspian knew something was wrong.

The air was unnaturally still, the stone beneath his feet humming with a strange energy.

The walls, which had been solid and unchanging in the previous floors, shifted.

The chamber stretched, twisting itself into something else—a long corridor, impossibly deep, disappearing into a distant, eerie glow.

A single object materialized in front of him.

A clock.

It was massive, nearly touching the ceiling, its golden hands ticking.

Beneath it, glowing numbers burned into the air.

1:00:00

Exactly one hour.

A voice rang out, calm yet absolute.

"Reach the exit before time runs out. Fail, and you will restart from the beginning."

Then, the hands on the clock lurched forward.

The countdown had begun.

Caspian didn't hesitate. He sprinted forward.

The corridor was straight at first, but the moment he stepped into it, the walls groaned—shifting, narrowing, twisting.

Something wasn't right.

He adjusted his stance, his muscles tensing. He knew the Tower never gave simple tests.

If it was only a race against time, it wouldn't be here, on the fourth floor.

Then, the first trap activated.

The ground beneath his feet suddenly disappeared.

A heartbeat later, he was falling—but not into darkness.

Spinning blades emerged from the abyss below, jagged and rusted, waiting for him to be torn apart. The fall would be fatal.

His body twisted midair, instincts honed through countless battles kicking in.

Bloodmoon gleamed as he drove it into the stone wall beside him, slowing his descent with a harsh screech of metal against rock.

Sparks flew. His muscles strained.

A ledge. Ten feet below.

He released the sword at the last second, flipping his body, landing just as the pit sealed itself behind him.

A trap that lasted only a moment. No second chances.

Caspian's heart pounded in his chest.

This was not a test of endurance.

This was a trial of reaction speed, adaptability, and precision.

The Tower wasn't just testing how fast he could move.

It was testing how fast he could think.

He exhaled. Then, he ran.

The corridor warped as he moved, forcing him to constantly adjust. One second, it was a straight path.

The next, the walls closed in, forcing him into impossible turns, split-second decisions.

Each section brought something new—spikes from the ceiling, floors that collapsed, sudden barriers of fire.

But Caspian adapted.

He didn't hesitate. Didn't stop.

His footwork became sharper, more precise.

He used the walls, kicked off them when the ground gave way, slid beneath closing gaps just in time.

His body wasn't just reacting anymore—it was anticipating.

Then, something changed.

The red light in the distance grew brighter.

The exit?

His eyes narrowed. No. Too soon.

And that was when he saw it.

A massive, circular chamber ahead. No paths. No obstacles.

Just a wide-open space—

And in the center, a pedestal.

Atop it, a lever.

A simple lever.

A warning flashed through Caspian's mind. It's never that easy.

The moment he stepped into the chamber, the door behind him slammed shut.

The countdown ticked louder.

10:23... 10:22... 10:21...

Then—

The walls started moving.

Not shifting, not twisting. Collapsing.

The entire room was closing in on him, the stone grinding as it inched closer with every second.

A cold realization struck him.

The lever stops it. But what else does it do?

There was no time to think.

His legs moved on their own, closing the distance in a breath. His hand gripped the lever.

And he pulled.

The walls froze.

For half a second, the only sound was Caspian's breath.

Then, the entire floor dropped.

Not just collapsed—descended.

He was in free fall.

Wind roared past his ears as the chamber spiraled downward, racing toward the red light below.

It wasn't an exit. It was another corridor—one final path.

A single platform appeared, far below.

He had to land on it.

His grip on Bloodmoon tightened. He twisted his body, forcing his descent into control, angling toward the platform.

The speed was too much—he wouldn't make it—

Then—

He landed.

Hard.

But he landed.

His muscles screamed in protest, but he didn't stop. He ran.

The red light was ahead. The true exit.

The countdown roared in his ears—

00:05... 00:04... 00:03...

He lunged forward.

And then—

He crossed the threshold.

The world froze.

The countdown stopped.

Then—

The voice spoke again.

"Trial complete."

The doors before him opened.

The Tower had accepted his victory.

Caspian exhaled, his body screaming from exhaustion. But he didn't fall.

Because beyond those doors lay the next and last trial.