The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 97

Chapter 97: Boredom in C Rank portals
Caspian’s gaze flickered over the crowd, his mind sharpening.

The same brats from yesterday.

The one who had been bullying Lyrius.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Caspian’s lips.

“Well,” he muttered under his breath, stepping inside. “Looks like things are about to get interesting.”

.

The room was suffocating. Caspian stepped inside, and before he could even take in the surroundings, the door clicked shut behind him.

A dozen eyes stared at him, full of resentment, hostility, and something else—hesitation.

The arrogant bastard who had been bullying Lyrius the day before, stood at the center, his arms crossed.

Around him, a handful of other students formed a loose circle, cutting off any easy way out.

“Hello,” a voice greeted, mocking.

Caspian met the gaze of the one who spoke. A lanky guy, with sharp features and an overconfident smirk.

“Hi,” Caspian replied, tone dry.

The tension cracked like ice underfoot.

“Why did you help him?” A guy asked, his voice low “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Caspian tilted his head, unimpressed. “Neither do you.”

A beat of silence.

Then, everything exploded.

{Few moments later}

When the dust settled, the room was unrecognizable.

The furniture was overturned, books scattered.

Caspian stood in the center, relaxed, rolling his wrist as if testing it.

Around him, bodies were sprawled on the floor, groaning in pain.

The main guy was against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps, eyes wide with disbelief.

His lackeys fared no better, some curled up clutching their ribs, others too stunned to speak.

Blood dripped from the corner of Caspian’s knuckles.

“We’re sorry! We’ll never come near you again!” someone whimpered.

Caspian crouched, grabbing the main guy by the collar, lifting his barely-conscious form up to eye level.

SMACK!

His fist drove into his face again. He dropped him like trash, watching as the boy coughed, barely keeping himself upright.

“No thanks,” Caspian muttered. “I’ll make sure you’re never able to.”

He stepped over a groaning body, kicking someone aside like dead weight.

“D-Do you know who my father is?!” one of them gasped from the floor, clutching his stomach.

Caspian stilled. Then turned, his gaze settling on the fool who spoke.

“Didn’t your mother tell you?”

SMACK!

The boy collapsed, out cold.

The others watched, terrified. No one moved.

No one even breathed too loudly.

Then, a voice cut through the silence.

“Hey, brat. What the hell are you doing?”

Caspian looked up. A figure stood at the door—an older woman, dressed in formal attire, her presence commanding.

It was the assistant to Duchess Valtira.

Caspian wiped the blood off his knuckles onto his pants. “Some practice.”

The students still conscious gawked.

He had just spoken to the right-hand of one of the most powerful figures in the duchy like she was a common errand girl.

The assistant sighed. “Leave them. The Duchess is calling for you.”

Caspian turned toward the doorway, stepping over another groaning body as he walked past.

He paused for a moment, glancing back at the wreckage of the room, at the bloodied and beaten faces of those who had tried to corner him.

“If I ever see you picking on Lyrius again,” Caspian’s voice was calm, almost indifferent. “You’ll be dead.”

He walked out, the assistant following behind him, while the remaining students lay there, staring at the ceiling, too shaken to even process what had just happened.

Who the hell was this guy?

__________

[2 YEARS LATER]

[5 January 2033]

The air inside the portal was thick with the scent of damp earth.

Dim blue light flickered through the towering trees, casting eerie shadows that danced across the dense undergrowth.

The remains of slain creatures littered the ground, proof of Caspian’s boredom.

He let out a slow breath.

“It’s boring to clear C-rank portals,” Caspian muttered, almost disappointed.

{You lunatic.} Bloodmoon’s voice echoed in his mind.

Caspian’s gaze flicked ahead.

Two massive snake-like creatures slithered out from between the trees, their elongated bodies covered in obsidian scales that shimmered under the portal’s light.

Their tongues flicked, sensing him, their slit-like eyes narrowing with hostility.

Without hesitation, Caspian raised Bloodmoon.

The sword materialized fully in his grip, its form now changed from before.

A spectral purple aura coiled around the blade, taking the shape of a snarling, wolf-like beast wrapping around the hilt.

The monsters lunged.

Caspian didn’t move at first.

He simply exhaled, feeling the weight of Bloodmoon in his grasp. Then, in a single instant—

He vanished.

A blur. A flash of violet light.

The sound of steel cutting through flesh.

The first snake monster’s head flew into the air, its body still twitching as its life drained away.

The second beast barely had time to react before Caspian was upon it.

He spun, his sword trailing streaks of violet energy.

The creature reared back to strike, its mouth opening wide to reveal rows of serrated fangs—

SHING!

A clean slice. The monster’s body split down the middle.

Blood sprayed, drenching the ground in steaming crimson.

Caspian exhaled, lowering his sword.

“Evoke.”

A ripple of mana pulsed from his body.

The monster cores—connects to his core.

He rolled his shoulders.

“Let’s move forward.”

Bloodmoon pulsed, as if amused.

The deeper he ventured, the stronger the creatures became.

He cut through them with practiced efficiency—his blade carving through scales, claws, and fangs like they were nothing more than air.

But his real goal wasn’t these small fries.

His boots scraped against the ground as he finally arrived.

A towering cage of blackened metal stood before him, its bars twisted and reinforced by pulsating sigils.

Inside, a massive figure stirred.

Its presence alone sent a wave of pressure through the air.

A beast with five grotesque, shifting faces, each muttering incoherent whispers in an ancient language. A creature far beyond what this C-rank portal should contain.

Caspian tilted his head. A slow smirk formed.

{Hey, brat, that thing’s at least B+ rank. Be careful.} Bloodmoon’s voice held a rare note of caution.

Caspian exhaled, tightening his grip on his sword.

“Okay.”

And then, he stepped forward.