The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 63

Chapter 63: The Trial Begins

The training stadium was silent.

This was it.

From the stands, Zareth leaned back lazily, “Try not to die, Ed,” he called out, his voice laced with amusement.

Ed ignored him.

His focus was on Arianna, who had yet to say a word.

Then, finally, she spoke.

“Ed,” she addressed him.

“Before we begin, let me make one thing clear—this is not a battle. This is an assessment. There is no need to prove your strength to me. What I want to see is your foundation. Your control.”

Ed nodded, adjusting his stance.

Arianna studied him for a long moment before continuing.

“You may think power alone will carry you, but power without control is nothing more than a wild beast lashing out blindly. That is what I will be testing today.”

She raised her hand, and with a flick of her fingers, the ground beneath Ed shimmered.

Magic.

A sudden surge of energy rippled through the field as three training dummies materialized, standing eerily still.

They weren’t ordinary dummies—each one was crafted from enchanted wood, reinforced with layers of protective magic to withstand even the strongest blows.

“For the first part of your test, you will face these,” Arianna explained.

“Each one will move, react, and counter your attacks. Your task is simple—defeat them.”

Ed furrowed his brows.

That didn’t sound too bad.

“And,” Arianna continued, her eyes glinting, “you may only use a wooden sword.”

A wooden sword?

Ed barely suppressed a groan.

He had been expecting something more challenging, but a simple test like this?

Against dummies?

This would be easy.

Arianna must have noticed his expression because a knowing smirk played at her lips.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself. If you truly believe this will be simple, then prove me wrong.” Arianna said.

With a sharp flick of her wrist, she conjured a wooden training sword in front of him.

Ed exhaled slowly and bent down to pick it up.

The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt—

The dummies moved.

Fast.

One lunged at him, its movements unnaturally smooth, almost human-like.

Its arms blurred as it swung its blunt wooden sword down at him in a practiced arc.

Ed barely had time to react.

He stumbled back, bringing his own sword up in a rushed block.

CLACK

The force of the impact rattled his arms, sending a sharp jolt through his wrists.

The dummy did not stop.

It twisted on its heel, swinging again, seamlessly transitioning from one strike to the next.

Ed gritted his teeth.

These things weren’t normal dummies.

They moved like real swordsmen.

The second dummy joined in.

Then the third.

Ed found himself on the defensive almost instantly.

Their attacks were relentless, their movements unpredictable.

Every time he blocked one, another would strike from a different angle.

His arms ached. His footing was unsteady.

And then—

Thwack!

A sharp hit landed cleanly against his ribs.

Pain flared through his side.

Before he could recover—

Thwack!

Another strike. This time against his leg. His knee buckled.

Ed fell.

His breath came in harsh pants as he hit the ground.

He barely had time to roll away before a downward strike smashed into the spot where his head had been.

He pushed himself up, gasping.

What the hell was this?

Dummies weren’t supposed to fight like this. They weren’t supposed to think.

His grip on the wooden sword tightened.

He could feel Bloodmoon’s presence stirring in the back of his mind.

{Pathetic.}

Ed ignored it.

He had been careless.

Underestimated the test.

That wouldn’t happen again.

Bracing himself, he lunged forward, swinging at the nearest dummy with all his strength.

The dummy sidestepped.

Ed’s sword cut through empty air.

The momentary overextension cost him—

Thwack!

A strike landed against his back, sending him sprawling.

Damn it!

He slammed his fist against the ground in frustration.

This wasn’t about strength.

It was skill.

He knew how to swing a sword.

He knew how to fight.

But his movements were raw—lacking refinement, lacking understanding.

He was used to overwhelming with force, not technique.

He didn’t have footwork. He didn’t have control.

And Arianna was watching it all.

From the sidelines, her sharp green eyes studied him, expression unreadable.

His attacks were sloppy. His defense was weak.

And yet…

Despite being knocked down over and over again, despite failing so miserably—

He kept standing back up.

Even as bruises formed, even as exhaustion settled into his limbs—

He refused to stop.

That, Arianna thought, was something rare.

She had seen many students over the years—some naturally talented, some prodigies, some desperate to prove themselves.

But very few had this.

This sheer, unyielding determination.

He did not fight with skill, but he fought with something more.

And that—

That was why she decided.

When Ed finally collapsed, gasping for breath, his body aching, his vision blurring from the repeated blows—

Arianna called out.

“Enough.”

The dummies froze.

Ed remained on the ground, panting, sweat dripping from his forehead.

Arianna stepped forward, looking down at him.

“Failure,” she said simply.

Ed clenched his fists.

She wasn’t wrong.

She could end it here.

But then—

She extended a hand.

He blinked up at her.

“You lack technique,” Arianna said. “You lack understanding. But…”

Her gaze held something different now.

“Your mentality is impressive. Most would have given up long ago.”

Ed swallowed hard, not sure how to respond.

Arianna withdrew her hand. “You have two weeks. Learn. Understand. Because next time—”

She turned away.

“You won’t get another chance.”

Ed lay there, staring after her.

Two weeks.

That was all the time he had.

And he would not waste it.

.

Ed sat on the edge of a stone bench outside the training stadium, his wooden sword resting against his knees.

His body ached—bruises forming across his arms, ribs, and legs—but the pain wasn’t what bothered him.

It was the failure.

He clenched his fists.

He had been stupid.

He thought he could rely on strength alone, but that wasn’t enough.

The dummies had outmaneuvered him, outmatched him at every turn.

It wasn’t that they were too strong—it was that he was too unskilled.

A deep sigh escaped him.

“What a joke,” he muttered. “I couldn’t even land a single hit.”

Bloodmoon’s presence flickered in the back of his mind.

{Because you fight like a brainless brute,} the sword’s voice sneered. {No technique. No control. Just swinging wildly like an idiot.}

Ed exhaled sharply. “Not like you’ve been much help.”

{Oh? Would you like me to guide your hand? To make every decision for you?}

Ed frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

{Then figure it out, brat. If you want to get stronger, learn.}

Silence stretched between them before Bloodmoon’s presence faded.

Ed rubbed his face.

Two weeks.

That was all he had.

He needed to improve—not just his swordsmanship, but his understanding of combat.

Footwork.

Timing.

Magic.

He needed it all.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Zareth approaching until a shadow fell over him.

“Not bad,” Zareth said, hands in his pockets.

Ed snorted. “I failed.”

Zareth smirked. “Yeah, miserably. But you didn’t quit. That’s worth something.”

Ed shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

“No,” Zareth agreed. “But you’ve got two weeks. Plenty of time to make a miracle happen.”

Ed shot him a look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Zareth chuckled. “A little.”

Ed sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I don’t have a choice. I need to train.”

Zareth grinned. “Now you’re talking.”

Ed stood, cracking his sore neck.

Two weeks.

He would make them count.