The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 75

Chapter 75: A Memory Stained in Blood

He was strong. Stronger than most. Perhaps stronger than he allowed himself to believe.

But his path was different.

And she did not know how to tell him that it was fine to walk his own road instead of chasing hers.

She turned away from the balcony, stepping back into her chambers.

The soft glow of enchanted lanterns illuminated the high ceilings, casting delicate patterns across the walls.

Her fingers brushed against the wooden desk near her bedside.

A collection of letters lay there, unopened. Invitations, political reports, personal messages from noble houses—all things that required her attention.

[A/N: Request don’t come online like Wedding cards]

She would deal with them later.

For now, she allowed herself to breathe.

To feel the weight of the world beyond duty, beyond expectations.

Her gaze flickered toward the mirror.

And for a moment, she looked at herself not as a princess, but simply as Vynesaa.

The girl who had once run through the palace gardens barefoot, who had laughed under the shade of ancient trees, who had listened to the voices of spirits before she had understood what they truly were.

The girl who had a brother that she cared for.

Her lips parted slightly, as if to say something.

But there was no one here to listen.

The thought lingered in the air, weightless and unspoken.

And then, just as it was about to fade, something else surfaced in her mind.

Ed.

Her brow furrowed slightly.

He had been off lately.

Not in an obvious way.

Not in a way that others would notice unless they paid attention.

But she had.

There was something in his movements—a hesitation, a distance.

Something unsettled.

She did not know if it was doubt, anger, or something else entirely.

She cared. But not enough to ask.

Not enough to pry into something that he clearly did not want to share.

Still…

She would keep watching.

Even if she did not say it, she would see.

And when the time came, perhaps she would understand.

For now, tomorrow awaited.

——-——+————

[POV: Ed]

“How can I kill them?”

The thought had surfaced so suddenly, so completely, that for a brief moment, it did not even feel like his own.

His fingers curled into fists, his breath uneven.

He had been standing still for too long, the cold night air biting against his skin.

The wind carried the distant sound of laughter from the palace, but he barely heard it.

Because in his mind—he was somewhere else.

Somewhere far darker.

Memories.

Memories that did not belong to Ed.

Memories that belonged to Caspian.

The dim corridors of Arcwright Manor.

The weight of a cold gaze.

The sound of footsteps echoing against polished marble floors.

Pain.

Not just physical—but deeper.

The kind that seeps into the bones, that settles behind the ribs like an illness that never fades.

The look of disgust in his father’s eyes.

The sharp, dismissive words from his mother.

The way Eirlys never turned to acknowledge him, no matter how many times he tried to reach out.

Every single moment. Every single wound.

It was all back.

“I should kill them.”

The thought came again.

Stronger this time. A quiet, deadly whisper at the back of his mind.

Not out of desperation. Not out of childish anger.

But because they deserved it.

A shudder ran down his spin.

His heartbeat felt too slow, too steady for the storm that raged inside him.

And then, as the tide of hatred threatened to swallow him whole—

He stopped.

Not because the anger faded. Not because he suddenly forgave.

But because he understood.

“I’m too weak.”

Even if he stormed back to the human continent now, even if he walked straight into Arcwright Manor—what would change?

They would crush him. The same way they always had.

It didn’t matter how much he had learned, how much he had trained.

He wasn’t ready.

And nothing disgusted him more than the thought of standing before them again—only to fail.

His breath came out slow. Measured.

This was fine.

Because these past four years had not been wasted.

If the Caspian of the past had been helpless—then the Ed of the present was anything but.

His fingers flexed slightly, feeling the faint, crackling warmth of Air Magic.

Arianna had not been an easy teacher. She did not coddle.

She did not allow weakness.

“You can die without regret, or you can live and make something of yourself.”

That was the first thing she had ever told him.

And he had chosen to live.

To survive.

To become something greater.

Ed exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar pull of his points system—the silent weight of everything he had gained.

511,000 unused points.

A number that meant nothing to anyone else.

But to him, it was everything.

It was the blood, the sweat, the fights, the moments he had stood on the edge of death only to claw his way back.

It was proof that he had not just endured—but thrived.

And yet, 188,400 points had been spent.

Not on power.

Not on strength.

But on something far more valuable.

Memories. Emotions.

Everything he had been forced to throw away to survive that night when he ran from the Lupivores.

He had sacrificed a part of himself back then.

Had stripped away his emotions, had forced himself to become nothing more than instinct and willpower—because that was the only way to survive.

But now…

Now, he had reclaimed those pieces.

And with them, he had reclaimed the rage.

Ed lifted his gaze toward the sky.

The stars were bright tonight.

The stars that had watched him survive.

His lips curled slightly. Not into a smile, but into something colder.

“Not yet.”

He would not rush this. He would not throw himself into a battle he could not win.

But one day—he would return.

And when he did, it would not be as the weak, forgotten son of the Arcwright family.

It would be as Ed.

A name that they would learn to fear.