The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice-Chapter 124: A Disappointment That Stings

(POV: Caspian Arcwright)

The sky stretched endlessly above the open-air podium.

The air buzzed with an almost tangible energy — the restless murmurs of thousands peoples.

The podium stood at the heart of the gathering, towering above the sprawling crowd.

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Magical screens suspended in the air broadcasted the faces of the top 10 candidates, flickering with their names and achievements.

And Caspian was standing among them.

His heart pounded in his chest, his breathing tight and shallow.

His fingers twitched at his side, curling and uncurling as he tried to calm himself.

Get it together.

But it was easier said than done.

He'd faced killers, monsters, and brutal battles — yet somehow, this felt different.

Thousands of eyes were on him.

Caspian swallowed hard.

I wasn't prepared for this.

Back in the Arcwright household, attention had always been unwanted.

He clenched his fists.

This is what I wanted, right?

.

Then his thoughts wandered back to how he was eliminated.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling.

Anger? No.

Sadness? Not quite.

Disappointment? Yeah... that was it.

I couldn't stop replaying that moment in my head — that moment when I felt her presence behind me, that cold sensation at my neck right before my vision faded.

Vynesaa.

I didn't expect her to attack me like that.

If she had challenged me directly — even at my weakest — I would've respected it.

I would've admired the courage.

But... that?

That wasn't like her... or maybe it was.

I shifted my eyes toward her. She stood at the far end of the line, shoulders stiff, face turned away.

She didn't dare meet my gaze.

She knows what she did.

It wasn't that I held some kind of grudge. If this was just some normal sparring match, I wouldn't care.

But this wasn't just about a fight — this was her.

I knew Vynesaa's nature well. I had read about her in the novel. She was prideful — obsessed with victory — yet always valued her strength above cheap tricks.

The girl I read about wouldn't have attacked me from behind.

Not like that.

I had assumed... no, hoped... she was the kind of person who wanted to win the right way.

I thought maybe she even admired me.

I'd noticed the way her gaze would linger a little too long, the way her presence would always conveniently appear when I was alone.

At first, I dismissed it — childish infatuation, I told myself.

But time passed. She's seventeen now — mature enough to understand her own feelings.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I mistook her fixation for something else.

Whatever.

It still felt... awful.

Not because I lost. Losing didn't matter. I'd been second before — back in my old world, I lost countless times in almost everything.

It felt awful because — for the first time — I thought someone genuinely cared about me, and I might've been wrong.

.

The interviewer's voice cut through the noise.

"And now," the man announced, "Caspian— the man who claimed second place out of one million participants!"

The crowd erupted — cheers, whistles,and few jeers.

Caspian forced himself to smile.

The interviewer approached him, the crystal microphone hovering uncomfortably close.

"Tell me," the man asked, voice dripping with curiosity, "How does it feel to take second place?"

For a second, Caspian froze.

The crowd felt like a living thing, shifting and stirring with every breath.

Say something... anything.

Then the words came.

"Awful."

The noise died — a brief, heavy silence blanketing the field.

The interviewer blinked, clearly surprised.

"Awful?" he echoed. "That's... an interesting choice of words."

Caspian exhaled slowly, his thoughts sharpening. He looked the man in the eye and spoke clearly.

"Second place is just the first loser."

That sparked a reaction — murmurs rippling through the crowd. Some laughed. Others seemed unsure how to respond.

The interviewer tried to smile. "But surely you're proud of how far you've come?"

Caspian shrugged. "I'm proud of my growth. But if you're asking if I'm satisfied?" He shook his head. "Not even close."

More murmurs followed — this time more approving.

"So what's next for you?" the interviewer asked, sensing momentum.

Caspian's gaze shifted toward the magical screens — his own face staring back at him. He clenched his fist, feeling the ache of old injuries beneath the surface.

"They should wait until they see me next time."

It wasn't cocky — just calm. Certain.

The crowd stirred, whispers growing louder. He didn't need to hear the words to know what they were saying.

Who is this guy?

Wasn't he just some no-name?

Good.

The interviewer turned to her next, his smile confident once more.

"And now, our first-place champion — Princess Vynesaa El'Leather!"

The crowd roared, her name echoing across the stadium.

Vynesaa stepped forward, her back straight and chin high. She radiated poise — the image of royalty.

"Congratulations," the interviewer greeted her. "How does it feel to take first place in this year's exam?"

Vynesaa smiled —

"It feels.....appropriate."

The crowd cheered again — loud and proud.

"Appropriate?" the interviewer repeated. "A bold answer."

"I worked hard for this," Vynesaa said smoothly. "I trained harder than anyone else. I've earned my victory."

Her voice carried strength — her usual confident tone. She was playing her role well — the strong, untouchable princess.

But as Caspian watched, he saw her fingers tighten slightly at her side — the way her gaze lingered on the ground for just a moment longer than normal.

She wasn't satisfied.

Not with this.

Not with herself.

The interviews ended soon after. Now it was time for Award Caremony for top three candidates.

The students started murmuring among themselves.

Oliver was laughing with nobles, playing off his defeat like it didn't bother him. Darian was surrounded by commoners, boasting about his strength.

Vynesaa remained where she stood, silent and still. Her gaze kept drifting toward Caspian — but this time, she didn't approach him.

As for Caspian...

He stood alone.

He wasn't angry. He wasn't even bitter anymore.

But he wasn't satisfied.

He clenched his fists.

<<Now Welcome Our chief guest of the Caremony The King Thalodir Atticus and Queen Elizabeth Atticus >>