The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 62

Chapter 62: The Witch or Master

Caspian—no, Ed—lay on the soft bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind still reeling from what he had just experienced.

Bloodmoon’s memories weren’t just glimpses of the past; they were pain, suffering, and an eternity of torment.

And yet, despite it all, Bloodmoon remained—changed, yes, but still here.

A presence in his mind.

A voice that carried the weight of something ancient, something broken.

A sigh escaped Ed’s lips.

{You’re quiet,} Bloodmoon finally spoke, breaking the silence.

Ed exhaled sharply. “Just… thinking.”

{That is new.}

He ignored the jab, rubbing his temples.

The memories still pulsed behind his eyes—each death, each resurrection.

The monsters. The darkness.

The endless, excruciating cycle.

Then, after a long pause—

{I am confused, brat.}

Ed blinked. Bloodmoon sounded… uncertain.

{Why am I immortal?} The sword’s voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something else.

Something hollow.

{How do I turn into a sword? What am I?}

Ed swallowed. He didn’t have an answer.

Bloodmoon continued, more to himself now.

{I was… something else, wasn’t I? Before the blade. Before the hunger.}

Ed hesitated. “Yeah.”

A pause. Then—

{Then what was I?}

Ed opened his mouth, then closed it.

What was Bloodmoon before he became a sword?

A wolf-like beast?

A child lost in the abyss?

A thing forged in suffering?

“I don’t know,” Ed admitted.

Bloodmoon hummed, the sound reverberating through Ed’s mind.

{Can I be made?}

“What?”

{If I was turned into this… then could it happen again?}

Ed had no idea. The thought unsettled him.

{This doesn’t make sense.} Bloodmoon’s voice had an edge now. {Nothing about me makes sense.}

Ed ran a hand down his face.

His head hurt.

This conversation was starting to spiral, and he was the one who had to deal with it.

“Look,” he said finally, “We’ll figure it out.”

Bloodmoon didn’t respond immediately.

Then—

{Hmph. Convenient excuse.}

Ed snorted. “Maybe. But let’s be real—right now, If I want answers, I need to get stronger first for your memories more Fragment.”

Another pause.

Then a sigh, low and resigned.

{Tch. Fine. I’ll wait. Bloodmoon grumbled. But this one left me on a cliffhanger, brat. I don’t like cliffhangers.}

Ed smirked.

“Yeah? Welcome to my life.”

{Goodnight brat}

.

“Don’t be nervous,” Zareth said, though his tone was far too casual for someone giving last-minute advice.

Ed shot him a flat look. “That’s easy for you to say.”

Zareth merely smirked, arms crossed as he leaned back against the entrance wall.

“True. But I am the one giving you tips, so technically, if you fail, it’s also my failure.” Zareth said.

“That… doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Zareth clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Good. You’re finally getting it.”

Ed groaned, running a hand through his hair.

This was just like cramming for an exam—except instead of multiple-choice questions, it was an opponent that could very well break every bone in his body.

Zareth had spent the past hour explaining everything—stances, counters, weaknesses, breathing techniques—like a guy desperately trying to shove a semester’s worth of knowledge into his friend’s head right before the test.

Now, the time had come.

Ed took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The doors to the training stadium loomed ahead—massive, reinforced, and eerily silent.

They were thick.

With a deep, mechanical groan, the doors slid open.

Ed stepped through.

And froze.

The sheer scale of the training stadium hit him all at once.

It was enormous.

The ground stretched out endlessly, a pristine green field that made even the largest football stadiums look pathetic in comparison.

High-tech training equipment lined the far edges—combat dummies enchanted with auto-repair, weight stations that adjusted to the user’s strength, and various magical constructs designed to simulate real battle scenarios.

But that wasn’t the most impressive part.

ZING!

A low hum vibrated through the air as the roof began to open.

Gears shifted. Metal groaned.

And then—

Light.

Golden sunlight poured in, cascading over the field.

The once-enclosed stadium now felt boundless.

For a moment, Ed simply stood there.

Breathed it in.

Then—

A figure in the center of the field caught his eye.

His chest tightened.

A woman stood there, waiting.

She was tall, poised, and entirely unfazed—as if she had been standing there since the beginning of time itself.

Emerald-green hair cascaded down her back, glistening under the sunlight.

It was long but unrestrained, flowing freely with an almost unnatural smoothness.

Her eyes—deep, piercing green—locked onto him the moment he stepped in, as if she had sensed him before she even turned.

She did not move.

She did not speak.

She simply watched.

Ed swallowed.

“Uh, Zareth…?” he muttered under his breath.

Zareth, standing beside him, let out a lazy whistle.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s the witch I was talking about.”

Ed approached the center of the stadium, every step feeling heavier under the weight of the elf’s unwavering gaze.

She stood tall, arms crossed, her posture exuding effortless confidence.

Up close, her presence was even more intimidating—sharp, assessing, like she could see through every thought in his head.

Zareth gave him a light shove forward.

“Go on. Introduce yourself.”

Ed shot him a glare before turning to face the elf.

“…I’m Ed,” he said. “I’m here to train.”

The elf’s expression didn’t change. She studied him for a moment, then spoke—her voice cool and smooth.

“Arianna Sylvalis.”

Her name hung in the air.

“I was told you wish to learn.”

Ed straightened. “Yeah.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Then tell me—what do you know?”

Ed hesitated. “About what?”

“Combat. Magic. War.” She said.

“…I know how to fight.” Ed replied

“Do you?” Arianna asked.

There was something in her tone—not mockery, not dismissal, but challenge.

Ed clenched his fists. “I know.”

Arianna’s green eyes flickered with something unreadable.

She took a step forward, her presence pressing down on him like a stormcloud.

“Very well,” she said. “Let us see what you know.”

She turned, gesturing toward the field.

“You will take a test.”

Ed tensed. “What kind of test?”

Arianna didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she raised her hand.

The ground rumbled.

From the earth, three constructs rose—tall, humanoid figures made of stone and wood, their joints creaking like old trees in the wind.

Ed’s heart pounded.

“You must defeat them,” Arianna said simply. “Or at least, impress me,”