The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 64

Chapter 64: The Weight of the Sword

The morning air was crisp.

Distantly, birds chirped.

Ed rolled his shoulders, adjusting his grip on the wooden sword in his hand.

The weight felt unnatural—not heavy, but wrong.

Like a tool that hadn’t yet become an extension of his body.

Across from him, Zareth stood with his arms crossed, expression unimpressed.

“You holding that sword or is it holding you?” he asked, squinting.

Ed exhaled sharply. “I’m trying, alright?”

“Trying to do what? Summon a demon with bad posture?”

Ed gritted his teeth.

He wasn’t new to fighting—he had strength, reflexes, the instincts of someone who had survived far worse than a sparring match.

But swordsmanship?

Technique?

That was something else entirely.

Zareth walked up and nudged Ed’s knee with his foot. “Bend your legs. Don’t stand like a tree.”

Ed adjusted. “Like this?”

Zareth tilted his head, staring. Then he shook his head. “No. Now you look like you’re about to take a dump in the middle of the field.”

Ed groaned and straightened up.

“Why do I feel like this isn’t training and you just wanted an excuse to insult me?”

Zareth smirked. “Because you’re slow. And insulting you keeps me entertained. So technically, I’m multitasking.”

Ed scowled but didn’t argue.

He had the distinct feeling that arguing would just make things worse.

Zareth twirled his wooden sword effortlessly, like it was weightless.

“Alright, let’s get serious. First rule of sword fighting—” Zareth said.

“Don’t get hit?” Ed guessed.

Zareth grinned. “Wrong. First rule is: don’t look stupid while getting hit.”

Ed blinked. “That’s not—”

“Second rule,” Zareth interrupted, “don’t rely only on your sword. Your legs, your shoulders, your whole body—use them.”

Ed shifted slightly, feeling the balance of his weapon.

Zareth made it look easy.

“Let’s test something,” Zareth said. “Try to hit me.”

Ed hesitated. “Just… hit you?”

“Yes, obviously. Or are you planning to ask permission first?”

Ed narrowed his eyes. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe.” Zareth shrugged. “Now stop stalling and try.”

Ed adjusted his grip and stepped forward, his movement controlled.

He wasn’t reckless—he was faster than Zareth.

Stronger.

He wouldn’t let this annoying prince humiliate him so easily.

His wooden sword lashed out, fast and sharp.

Thud.

The strike met nothing but air.

Zareth had barely moved, just a subtle shift to the side.

“Congratulations,” Zareth said, tone dry. “You just attacked an innocent gust of wind.”

Ed’s jaw tightened. “Let me try again.”

“By all means.”

This time, Ed swung lower, aiming for Zareth’s ribs.

Again, the prince dodged with minimal effort.

“Are you actually trying?” Zareth tilted his head. “Or is this your way of warming up?”

Ed exhaled through his nose.

He wouldn’t let frustration get to him.

He was faster.

That meant if he pressed the attack hard enough, Zareth wouldn’t be able to dodge forever.

He stepped in again, this time feinting left before striking right.

Zareth moved—but this time, Ed had anticipated it.

CRACK

A sharp crack filled the air as his wooden sword grazed Zareth’s shoulder.

A pause.

Zareth glanced at the point of impact, then at Ed.

His smirk widened.

“Not bad.”

Ed wasn’t done.

He pressed forward, swinging again.

His strikes came faster, sharper, more controlled.

Zareth still dodged, still deflected—but not all of them.

Ed’s next strike clipped his wrist. Another thud against his ribs.

Zareth chuckled. “Alright. You’re not completely hopeless.”

Ed exhaled, sweat beading on his forehead.

His grip tightened.

He could do this.

But then—

His sword stopped moving.

Ed’s eyes widened.

Before he could react, something slammed into his stomach.

A dull thump echoed as Zareth’s wooden sword struck his torso, knocking the breath from his lungs.

Ed staggered back, gasping.

“Dead,” Zareth said simply, completely relaxed.

Ed scowled. “You—”

“Again,” Zareth cut in, twirling his sword.

Ed grit his teeth. “Fine.”

He tried. And tried again.

And again.

Each time, he got faster. His movements grew sharper.

He landed more hits—small ones, but hits nonetheless.

But Zareth still won every time.

After the tenth failed attempt, Ed dropped his sword and flopped onto the ground with a groan. “I hate you.”

Zareth sat down beside him, grinning. “Hate is just another word for admiration. You’ll get there.”

“Shut up.”

They sat in silence for a while, catching their breath.

A warm breeze rustled through the grass.

“You’re not actually bad, you know,” Zareth said suddenly.

Ed turned his head, skeptical.

“No, really. You’re just… sloppy. No technique, no control. But you’re fast. You react quickly, and that’s not something you can teach.” Zareth said.

Ed didn’t say anything.

THUD!

He sat on the ground.

His thoughts were a tangled mess.

Failing wasn’t what upset him—he had faced setbacks before.

“Isn’t a teacher supposed to teach students how to fight?” Ed finally muttered, voice low.

“That’s what you’re stuck on?” Zareth asked.

Ed exhaled sharply. “I mean, yeah. I get that I lost. I get that I have no technique. But isn’t her job to teach me?”

Zareth chuckled. “That’s not how it works, Ed.”

Ed frowned. “Then how does it work?”

Zareth turned slightly, “Arianna isn’t just any instructor. She’s said to be the best teacher. And you don’t get to be the best by teaching just anyone.”

Ed’s fingers curled into his palms. “So what? She just picks favorites?”

“No,” Zareth said simply. “She picks students worth investing in.”

Ed glanced at him, skeptical. “And I wasn’t?”

Zareth smirked. “If she thought you weren’t worth it, you wouldn’t have gotten a second chance.”

That made Ed pause.

Zareth continued, “Think about it. She didn’t fail you because you were weak. If you were weak, she wouldn’t care. She failed you because she saw potential in you. If she didn’t, she would’ve just ignored you completely.”

Ed let that sink in.

It still didn’t sit right with him.

He didn’t like the idea of someone judging him based on potential instead of actual results.

But… he couldn’t deny that getting a second chance was better than outright rejection.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “So I just have to get better.”

Zareth shrugged. “Pretty much.”

A brief silence settled between them.

Then—

“You know,” Ed said, leaning back, “you could’ve told me all this before I spent an hour brooding about it.”

Zareth grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Ed groaned. “I despise you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll live.”

From a distance, perched on the elevated balcony overlooking the training grounds, Vynesaa watched the scene below with a detached expression.

Her lavender eyes,flickered over the two figures in the field—Zareth, effortlessly maneuvering his wooden sword, and Ed, struggling to match his pace.

She clicked her tongue. “Pathetic.”