The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice-Chapter 113: Entrance Exam [13] :I am Not a thief

[POV: Caspian]

It was afternoon now.

Click.

A new update flashed onto the screen.

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**Caspian [Students Left: 18]

**Rank: 6

**Kills: 179

**Assists: 5

**

Time: 2:30 PM

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Caspian dusted himself off, glancing at Vynesaa, who was still hovering a little too close. He sighed

’Let’s go then Vynesaa,"

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Vynesaa and Caspian moved through the battlefield.

The air was thick with tension.

"There might be strong ones around here," Vynesaa muttered, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings.

Just as she spoke, a suffocating presence washed over them.

Heavy. Predatory.

Both of them tensed. Then, without a word, they broke into a sprint.

They both knew.

A massive battle was taking place nearby.

When they arrived, chaos unfolded before them—two teams of five locked in a brutal melee, their weapons clashing, spells detonating in bursts of color and destruction.

Caspian immediately recognized most of them.

Figures who had been named in the novel.

Some important, some destined to be stepping stones.

He and Vynesaa halted just out of sight, watching the carnage.

The fighters were battered, their movements slowing, their limbs weighed down by exhaustion.

Then, as if on cue, the remaining combatants staggered, struggling to stay on their feet.

This was it—the perfect moment.

Caspian grinned and darted forward. "Vynesaa, don’t come. They’re my points."

One of the students, barely standing, choked on his own breath. "W-What? Points?!"

Before he could comprehend the nightmare unfolding, a massive vine speared through his chest.

Vynesaa, unfazed, had already begun her own massacre.

Her vines stretched across the battlefield like hunting serpents, striking with pinpoint precision.

Five opponents collapsed within seconds, their bodies entangled in the writhing flora.

She turned back to Caspian. "I left five for you. Don’t waste them."

The remaining enemies, realizing their grim fate, scrambled to retreat.

Caspian didn’t let them.

He moved like a phantom, his sword carving through the wounded with clinical efficiency.

Blood painted the ground.

In mere moments, the battlefield was silent.

The only sound was Caspian’s steady breathing and the rustling of Vynesaa’s vines retracting into the earth.

He exhaled slowly.

Something about this… felt exhilarating.

A notification flickered before him.

**Click.**

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**Rank: 4**

[Participants left: 8]

[Time: 3:00 pm]

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"Oh," Vynesaa mused. "You ranked up."

Caspian stared at the notification. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. "Nice."

______

[POV: Darian]

’Being in a team is irritating. It makes you feel weak,’ Darian thought.

He never liked relying on others.

Strength was something you carved out yourself—not something you shared.

But in a battlefield like this, survival demanded cooperation, even if it was temporary.

He glanced at Oliver Atticus, a formidable presence even among the elite.

That guy was strong. Dangerous, even.

Then there were the other two—one girl, one boy.

They weren’t just filler.

They were competent.

The initial fight between their teams had proven that much.

It was a natural conclusion to team up, but Darian kept his guard up.

Trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

A sharp sensation pricked at his senses. His body tensed. Something had changed.

’Why does it suddenly feel… small?’

It wasn’t just him. The others felt it too.

The space around them, once buzzing with tension, now seemed to shrink under the weight of something overwhelming.

Heavy. Countless presences converging at one point.

No one needed to speak. Instinct drove them forward.

They ran, drawn toward the pressure, toward the clash of power they could feel but not yet see.

And yet—when they arrived, it was over.

The battlefield was empty.

No, not empty. Silent.

The ground, littered with fresh blood, told the story of a battle that had ended mere moments before their arrival.

Darian’s eyes flicked upward.

There, standing in the midst of the carnage, were two figures.

A girl with vivid pink hair, her stance relaxed. And beside her, a white-haired boy, his presence as calm as the still air around them.

’Tch. That bastard.’

Recognition flared in Darian’s mind.

He knew that face.

He didn’t even need to think. His body reacted before his brain did.

He lunged forward, instincts screaming for battle.

He didn’t care about the situation. He didn’t care why they were there.

All he knew was that white haired bastard was standing right in front of him—and that was reason enough to fight.

Clank!

The sharp clash of steel echoed across the battlefield as Darian pointed his blade at Caspian.

His stance was aggressive, his expression laced with confidence—no, arrogance.

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"Fight me one-on-one," Darian demanded, his voice unwavering.

Caspian exhaled sharply, his eyes flickering toward the group behind Darian.

They were outnumbered.

Caspian couldn’t refuse.

"Alright," he replied, stepping forward, his grip tightening around bloodmoon.

Vynesaa and the others didn’t move, understanding that this was between the two of them.

Darian lunged first, his sword carving a brutal arc through the air.

Caspian sidestepped, letting the blade graze past as he countered with a precise thrust.

Darian twisted his body, deflecting the strike at the last moment, but Caspian could already see the cracks forming in his opponent’s tempo.

Fast—but not fast enough.

Darian gritted his teeth, launching a flurry of slashes, but Caspian weaved through them, his movements fluid and effortless.

His footwork was impeccable, his reactions sharp, and Darian was beginning to feel it.

"Tch—" Darian scowled, increasing his speed, but Caspian stepped in close, his sword barely grazing Darian’s cheek as he whispered, "You’re too slow."

Darian’s frustration exploded as he swung wildly, but Caspian ducked under the blade, pivoting behind him and landing a swift kick to Darian’s side.

The force sent him stumbling, but he dug his heels into the dirt, regaining his footing.

He panted, eyes burning with defiance, but Caspian stood before him, unfazed.

"Where the hell are the last two participants?" Caspian mused, his gaze flickering around.

Darian wiped the small trickle of blood from his cheek, his grip on his sword tightening. "Don’t get cocky."

Caspian smirked, his stance as relaxed as ever. "Then come at me again."