The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 61

Chapter 61: The Descent into Hell

The ground crumbled beneath him.

He did not know how.

One moment, he was walking—dragging his small body.

The next, the earth had simply given way.

The ice cracked like shattered glass, and before he could react, he was falling.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

His tiny limbs flailed, reaching for something—anything—but there was nothing.

Only the endless drop.

And then—

Impact.

His body hit something hard.

A jagged rock.

Then another.

Then another.

Each one broke him.

His legs. His ribs. His spine.

The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

It did not come all at once.

It came in waves, in bursts—shattering him piece by piece as he tumbled deeper, deeper, deeper.

Until, finally—

He stopped.

.

For a long time, there was nothing.

No movement. No sound.

Just pain.

His body was twisted, his bones shattered, his flesh torn open in ways it never had been before.

If he were anything else, he would have died instantly.

But he was not anything else.

He was him.

So he suffered.

Every nerve, every muscle, every broken piece of him screamed with agony. His small chest barely rose, barely fell.

His vision was blurred, his breathing ragged.

And then—

He breathed.

His body restored itself.

The shattered bones mended.

The torn flesh closed.

The pain faded.

He was whole again.

But he still remembered.

He always remembered.

The feeling of breaking. The feeling of falling.

Even though his body was new, the wounds in his mind remained.

He was so tired.

But he could not stop.

Because he was still alive.

.

He forced himself to stand. His legs trembled beneath him, but he did not collapse.

He had suffered too much to collapse.

The place he had fallen into was dark.

Darker than the night. Darker than the deepest forest.

The walls around him were damp and uneven, covered in something that pulsed—like flesh.

And the sounds—

Gods, the sounds.

Deep, guttural breathing. The scratch of claws against stone.

The slow, sickening sound of something wet moving in the dark.

Something was here.

Many things.

And they had noticed him.

.

The first one ripped him apart.

He never saw it coming.

A shadow lunged from the darkness, far too fast, far too strong.

Claws tore through his small body, splitting him in two before he could even react.

Agony.

Darkness.

Then—

He breathed.

He was back.

Whole.

The monster was still there.

It attacked again.

This time, he saw it.

A hulking beast, covered in shifting, chitinous plates. No eyes. Just a gaping maw, filled with jagged teeth, dripping with something black and steaming.

It did not hesitate.

It killed him again.

Darkness.

Then—

He breathed.

The monster tilted its head, confused.

Then it killed him again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, he felt it all.

Each time, his body returned.

Each time, the monster laughed.

A deep, horrible sound, filled with something like amusement.

And then, more came.

They had seen.

They had smelled him.

They had understood.

He could not die.

So they would play.

.

It did not take long for him to lose count.

The monsters came in waves.

They ripped. They tore. They crushed.

They devoured him in ways he had never thought possible.

Some flayed his skin off slowly, savoring his screams.

Some swallowed him whole, letting his tiny body melt in their stomachs, forcing him to feel himself dissolve before he returned.

Some ripped his limbs off one by one, watching in fascination as they reformed.

They enjoyed it.

He could see it in the way they moved, the way they waited just long enough for the pain to settle in before starting again.

He was not prey.

He was entertainment.

He had no words for what he felt.

No way to describe the horror, the despair, the sheer hopelessness that filled his tiny body every time he returned.

He had stopped screaming long ago.

His throat had no voice left.

He just lay there.

Letting it happen.

There was no point in fighting.

No point in running.

There was nothing he could do.

Nothing but die.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Forever.

.

He did not know how long it had been.

Days. Weeks. Months.

Time had lost meaning.

He no longer reacted when the monsters came.

No longer flinched when their claws found him.

He just lay there.

Waiting.

For what, he did not know.

And then—

For the first time in forever—

The darkness changed.

A sound.

Not the growl of a monster.

Not the sickening sound of flesh being torn.

Something soft.

Something human.

A voice.

Small.

Frightened.

“…Hello?”

His eyes, dull and empty, flickered open.

And there—standing just beyond the writhing shadows—

Was a boy.

The boy was small.

His voice was soft.

His scent was… different.

Not like the monsters.

Not like the beasts that had killed him a thousand times.

The cub lay still, his frail body pressed against the damp, pulsing ground.

He had forgotten how to move, how to breathe without expecting pain.

His mind was empty, a hollow thing beaten into submission by endless suffering.

And yet—

The boy knelt beside him.

Not with claws.

Not with hunger.

But with something gentle.

Small fingers hesitantly reached forward, brushing against the cub’s dirt-streaked fur.

A shiver ran through his tiny body.

This was different.

Not cold.

Not sharp.

Warm.

So warm.

The cub flinched. He did not understand.

No one had ever touched him like this.

No one had ever held him without pain.

The boy hesitated, his bright eyes filled with something the cub had never seen before.

Concern.

“You’re hurt,” the boy whispered.

The cub’s body was whole, unmarked, perfect.

And then, before the cub could react—

The boy picked him up.

The warmth of the boy’s arms wrapped around the cub’s frail body, holding him close.

The cub should have struggled.

Should have fought.

Should have bitten, clawed, escaped.

But he didn’t.

Because this was different.

This was something he had never known.

And so, he let it happen.

He let himself be held.

He let himself be carried.

And for the first time in his endless life—

He did not feel like prey.

.

The boy ran.

Through the twisting tunnels of the abyss, through the darkness where the monsters lurked.

He did not hesitate.

Did not stop.

The cub could feel his heartbeat, pounding like a war drum against his small body.

Ba-dump.

Ba-dump.

Ba-dump.

It was a sound he had never noticed before.

A sound that was alive.

The boy’s breath was ragged, his feet stumbling over uneven ground, but he did not stop.

He held the cub tighter, shielding him against his chest as if he were precious.

The air changed.

Cold stone gave way to open wind.

Darkness gave way to light.

And then—

The boy burst from the cavern, into the valley.

The cub saw it for the first time.

A world without walls.

A world without endless pain.

The valley stretched before them, rolling hills covered in soft green, the scent of wildflowers carried on the breeze.

The sky was blue.

The sun was warm.

The cub blinked, his dull eyes struggling to adjust.

For so long, he had only known the abyss.

Only known darkness.

But this—

This was something else.

Something he could not name.

Something he did not know how to name.

But it was beautiful.

The boy did not stop.

He ran and ran, his breath coming in desperate gasps, his small body trembling with exhaustion.

But he did not let go.

He held the cub close, cradling him like something fragile.

And for the first time…

The cub did not feel like a thing.

He felt like someone.

The scent of woodsmoke.

The sound of voices.

The boy slowed.

Ahead, nestled at the edge of the valley, stood a house.

It was small, but sturdy—built from dark wood, its windows glowing with the soft flicker of candlelight.

A garden stretched beside it, wildflowers swaying in the evening breeze.

The boy stumbled toward the door.

And then—

It opened.

A woman stood in the doorway.

Her hair was long, silver like the moon, her eyes filled with warmth and worry.

“Ethan?” she gasped, stepping forward. “Where have you—”

She stopped.

Her gaze fell to the small, battered creature in the boy’s arms.

To him.

A man appeared behind her, tall and strong, his brow furrowed in concern.

A little girl peeked from behind his legs, her bright eyes wide with curiosity.

The cub froze.

The boy tightened his grip, pressing his forehead against the cub’s.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”

“Ding”

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Memories part -1 ended

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