The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 52

Chapter 52: Saving Zareth

“Damn it! Where the fuck did he run off to?” Caspian muttered.

His eyes scanned the small room, searching for any clue Zareth might have left behind.

The absence of his friend hit him harder than he expected.

The neatly folded blanket in the corner and the half-eaten piece of bread on the counter only amplified his growing sense of urgency.

He rubbed his temples, exhaling sharply, before his frustration gave way to resolve.

“I can’t just sit here,” he muttered to himself, grabbing his jacket and storming out of the room.

The city streets were eerily quiet in the early dawn light, the occasional distant chatter of birds setting up for the day fading into the background as Caspian broke into a jog.

His mind raced as he thought of where Zareth might have gone.

“Think, Ed, think,” he murmured to himself.

“Where would someone like him go? He’s hiding, but not from just anyone—he’s hiding from pros who might recognize him.”

Then, it struck him.

Caspian abruptly changed direction as he veered toward the eastern edge of the city.

His thoughts drifted back to the first time he had met Zareth—the sullen, defiant prince who had been sitting alone at an ancient pond.

That spot had always seemed to be a sanctuary of sorts for Zareth, a place where he could escape the weight of his past and the fear of his future.

“He has to be there,” Caspian thought, pushing himself to move faster.

The eastern part of the city felt older, its streets narrower and its buildings worn with age.

The people here were few, mostly elders and street vendors who gave Caspian curious glances as he hurried past.

.

Caspian pushed through the underbrush, the scent of damp earth and moss filling his lungs as he approached the entrance.

“Please be here,” Caspian murmured, stepping inside.

But as he stepped into the open area, his heart sank.

The pond lay undisturbed, and there was no sign of anyone having been there recently.

“Damn it,” Caspian growled under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides.

He turned in a slow circle, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the area.

But there was nothing—no footprints, no discarded belongings, no hint that Zareth had come here at all.

For a moment, Caspian felt a pang of uncertainty.

What if Zareth had gone somewhere else entirely?

What if he was already too far to find?

But then, a thought surfaced—something that made his eyes narrow with determination.

“He’s a prince,” Caspian muttered to himself. “He’d try to go somewhere no one would think to look. Somewhere isolated. Somewhere even pros wouldn’t bother with…”

His gaze turned eastward.

“The forest,” Caspian said.

It made sense.

Without wasting another second.

“Unleash,” he murmured.

A figure materialized beside him—a sleek, wolf-like creature with shimmering fur.

The lupivore stood silently for a moment before tilting its head up to look at Caspian, its ears twitching in anticipation.

“You’re up,” Caspian said, crouching slightly to meet the creature’s gaze.

He pulled a small cloth from his pocket—one of the few things

Zareth had left behind in the apartment—and held it out to the lupivore.

“Find him,” Caspian commanded.

“I know you can.”

The lupivore sniffed the cloth intently, its keen nose twitching as it caught Zareth’s scent.

Without hesitation, the creature turned and bolted toward the forest, its movements swift and fluid as it disappeared into the underbrush.

Caspian straightened, his pulse quickening as he took off after the lupivore.

The forest loomed ahead, its towering trees and tangled foliage casting long shadows in the early morning light.

As he ran, the urgency in his chest grew stronger.

“You’d better still be alive, Zareth,” he muttered under his breath.

The forest was vast and wild, its paths winding and unpredictable.

But Caspian trusted the lupivore, its connection to him unwavering as it led the way.

He dodged low-hanging branches and leapt over fallen logs, his breaths coming in sharp bursts as he pushed himself to keep up.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours as Caspian followed the creature deeper into the forest.

The further he went, the more the city seemed like a distant memory, its noise and chaos replaced by the quiet hum of nature.

And then, the lupivore slowed.

Caspian’s heart pounded as he came to a stop beside the creature, his eyes scanning the area.

The lupivore sniffed the ground, its tail swishing as it led Caspian to a faint trail of footprints in the dirt.

“Zareth…” Caspian murmured, his voice tinged with relief.

The tracks were fresh, leading further into the forest.

But relief quickly gave way to unease.

The tracks were erratic, weaving slightly as if Zareth had been stumbling. And beside them, faint claw marks marred the ground, suggesting something—or someone—had been following him.

Caspian’s jaw tightened.

“You’re close, Zareth,” he muttered.

“But so are they.”

The forest was unnaturally silent as Caspian moved deeper into its shadowy depths.

His breath hitched as he noticed broken branches and disturbed foliage along the trail Zareth had left behind.

The tension was suffocating, a cold, invisible weight pressing against his chest.

“Damn it, Zareth,” he muttered, gripping the hilt of his bloodmoon tighter.

His lupivore led the way, its sharp ears twitching and nose to the ground.

Caspian could sense something was wrong.

“ROOAARRRRR”

Suddenly, a guttural roar tore through the stillness.

The lupivore snarled and broke into a sprint, and Caspian followed without hesitation.

His heart raced, his mind screaming at him to move faster.

“Hold on, Zareth,” he muttered under his breath.

As he approached a clearing, the sound of clashing steel and feral growls reached his ears.

He burst through the underbrush, and his blood ran cold at the sight before him.

Zareth stood in the center of the clearing, his blade gripped tightly in his hands as he faced off against a towering beast.

The creature was massive, easily twice the size of a man, with jagged claws and eyes that glowed an eerie crimson.

It was like a tiger with 6 legs.

Blood dripped from its maw, staining the ground beneath it.

Caspian’s eyes widened as he saw Zareth’s condition.

His friend’s once-pristine clothes were torn and soaked in blood.

A jagged wound ran across his side, deep and seeping, staining his movements with visible pain.

Despite this, Zareth stood tall, his blade steady as he faced the beast.

“You stubborn bastard,” Caspian muttered, his grip tightening on his own sword.

Before he could act, the creature lunged at Zareth, its claws aimed to tear through him.

Zareth raised his blade, parrying the strike, but the force of the blow sent him staggering back.

He gritted his teeth, refusing to fall, and retaliated with a slash of his own, his blade carving a shallow wound across the creature’s chest.

But it wasn’t enough.

The beast roared in fury, its claws swiping again.

This time, it caught Zareth across the shoulder, sending him to the ground with a pained cry.

Blood pooled beneath him, and Caspian’s heart dropped.

“Zareth!” he shouted, as he charged forward.

The creature turned its glowing eyes toward him, but it was too late.