The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice

(Unknown Location)

Drip.

Drip.

The sound of something thick hitting stone.

Blood.

The walls were alive with fungus.

No sunlight ever touched this place.

Only torchlight, flickering against the carved runes of suppression magic, lit the underground abyss that was Black Hollow's lowest level.

Deepest level: Cell Block C-Zero.

Nicknamed by inmates: "The Furnace."

CRUNCH.

A boot ground into a skull, pressing until bone snapped.

"Ahhhhhhh!

The man's last scream choked into silence as brain matter splattered across the glowing embers.

Another body, tossed into the infernal pit.

The killer stood silently, chest rising and falling in rhythm. His hands were bare. His arms covered in ash.

His face?

Calm.

Expressionless.

As if he were folding laundry instead of exterminating a room full of killers.

Another prisoner—a tall brute with tattoos of stitched mouths on his chest—charged forward, madness in his eyes.

"You think you're a god, huh? Who the fuck do you think you—!"

FWOOSH.

A blast of scorching wind ruptured from the killer's palm, launching the brute back into a jagged metal spike that had once been a bedpost.

Pinned.

Bleeding.

The man didn't scream.

But the killer took a step forward, dragging his foot through a line of blood. He stared at the tattooed man as if inspecting a fly.

"You raped six girls."

His voice was cold. Flat. No hatred. Just a fact.

"You laughed during sentencing. Said you'd do it again."

He bent low, eye-level.

"But yo-u are al-lso crimin-al then w-..hy are you he-re....." The man shouted.

"You won't," killer replied

Then he cracked the man's jaw with a flick of his fingers—shattering bone into the brainstem.

The body twitched once. Died.

A scrawnier inmate, half-burned and crying in a corner, pleaded desperately.

"W-Wait! I was innocent! I swear! I didn't—"

"You ran a child-trafficking circle."

"No! I—"

"You used your own niece to bait others."

The killer's voice didn't rise.

He stepped forward. The man pissed himself.

"P-Please—!"

The killer didn't speak again.

Instead, he lifted the man by the throat with a single hand and threw him across the room, into a wall of seething embers, where the bodies of the others had already begun to pile.

The stench was unbearable.

Burned flesh.

Oil.

Urine.

Despair.

Thirty corpses lay in the fire now.

Murderers. Rapists. Warmongers. Sorcerers who played god.

All killed not with anger, but efficiency.

At the center of the room stood the killer—his shoulders coated in soot, his boots heavy with blood, and his eyes glowing faintly with violet light.

He flexed his hand slowly. Bones popped.

"All cleaned up," he muttered.

His voice echoed like gravel down a well.

"Now…"

He looked up toward the ancient rusted grate above.

"Time to escape."

But before he could move—

Clack. Clack.

Footsteps.

Four shadows emerged from the far end of the chamber, stepping out from a tunnel that had once collapsed years ago.

Their faces were hidden behind enchanted masks, carved from obsidian and bone.

One of them laughed lowly, voice like broken glass.

"Well, I'll be damned. Still got it in you, Kismet."

Another flicked a bloodstained coin in the air. "Thirty in five minutes. That's a personal best, even for you."

The third stood silently, hooded in flame-retardant robes, eyes glinting from within.

And the last one—smallest, barefoot—spoke with a faint whisper.

"Are we ready?"

The killer—Kismet—glanced back at the fire.

The bodies were still burning.

"No," he said, finally. "But it's time."

He looked at them.

And for the first time tonight, his lips moved into something like a smirk.

"Let's finish what we started."

...

[POV: Vynesaa]

The classroom felt unusually quiet today.

There were no whispers.

Vynesaa sat straight in her chair, her eyes drifting over the rows ahead.

Her classmates weren't particularly close to her—most weren't even talkative —Not that she blamed them.

Most people didn't know how to approach her.

> "So, students. As your league matches have ended, the teams eligible for the knockout round will move forward." Professor Elara said.

There it was.

A rustle moved through the class. A few shoulders tensed, some sighed in relief.

Others didn't react at all—either pretending to already know or trying not to show disappointment.

Elara continued, unfazed by the shift in energy.

> "Knockouts begin next week. All selected teams—you have six days. Prepare yourselves."

Vynesaa noticed Kairos sitting near the back, arms folded, his usual relaxed expression unreadable. Caspian, as always, was near the edge of the row, writing something into a notebook with the same calmness he always wore. He didn't even glance up.

> "The last three teams," Elara said, her voice dipping just slightly, "you're demoted to Section A, effective immediately."

A single exhale escaped someone in the second row. A quiet "shit" under their breath.

Vynesaa caught a girl two seats ahead with her hand half-raised, only to lower it again.

> "That means," Elara added, "you will now attend classes with the lowest ranked division. And be treated as such until you improve."

That stung.

But again, Elara wasn't here to cushion blows.

Students began reaching for bags, assuming that was the end of the announcement. Elara didn't stop them.

But just as the first few chairs screeched back—

> "Yes—one more thing."

Everyone froze mid-motion. Half-standing students slowly eased back into their seats.

> "You'll now be required to join a club. One that aligns with your strength—or your weakness."

Vynesaa blinked. A club?

> "Combat, Tactics, Alchemy, Elemental Control, Beast Taming, Rune Studies,news paper,games—there are several. You'll receive the list today. Visit them, and choose by the end of the week."

A pause. She let it linger.

> "And starting tomorrow," Elara added, "your schedule shifts."

This got everyone's attention.

> "Your first three classes will remain in your current division. But your fourth class—the most critical one—will be held with students who share your elemental affinity."

A new murmur spread. That was unexpected.

Vynesaa leaned forward slightly. Her affinity was Nature, or more precisely, Spirit-Nature hybrid—an oddity even among elves.

Who would she be with? Elves? Some humans? Would it be all supportive magic? Or deep elemental tuning?

Elara continues —

"You will train with others of similar magical core structures. That includes spell formation, domain crafting, mana theory, and real-world simulations."

Vynesaa tapped her nails lightly on the desk.

That meant she'd be with other spiritual affinity users—and probably a few from older years, too. It made sense. General education could only carry them so far. After the qualifiers, students would have to specialize if they hoped to survive field missions.

Elara turned back toward the blackboard, the faint chalkmarks of yesterday's lesson still ghosting across the surface.

Without looking back, she finished:

"Enough chatter," Elara said. "Let's return to the core of today's theory class. Turn to page ninety-three—ether conduction arrays."

Pages rustled. The mood didn't shift.

Vynesaa didn't open her book right away. Her eyes wandered across the room. Most of her classmates were still distracted—whispering.

She saw fianna tapping her foot, half-reading. Calenthir was already scribbling notes at high speed, brows furrowed. Lyrius, strangely, was quietly watching Elara like he was memorizing her speech pattern.

"Conduction Array magic skill required sunlig—

Vynesaa wasn't listening anymore.

Her mind was already elsewhere.

She thought about her own team first.

They'd made it. Of course they had. They weren't perfect, but their synergy was better than most.

'But now the landscape has changed with stronger teams in the competition. To succeed, i'll need to adapt quickly and build her strength at an accelerated pace. Every match matters, and i can't afford a single loss. The stakes are higher, and my strategy will need to be robust and flexible to overcome the challenges posed by these formidable opponents.'

Then her focus turned to lecture once again.

Vynesaa opened her notebook, copying down the first few lines just to keep her hands moving.

But still her thoughts lingered.

The affinity class could be a game-changer for many, but she remains skeptical about its relevance to her own growth. Having been schooled at the palace, she's already been exposed to a vast array of knowledge and skills, making her wonder if this class will offer anything new or valuable to her specifically. Despite this, she might still find unexpected benefits or insights that challenge her perspective.

And for her… that was still a question without an answer.