The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice-Chapter 139: The Speach of The Egoist

(POV: Caspian)

Caspian sat in his dorm room, flipping through his phone.

The screen flickered with a new notification.

A message from Elana.

He exhaled, running a hand through his silver hair as he opened it.

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> Tournament Structure Announcement – S-Class

#Round 1: Group Stage (30 teams, 6 groups of 5)

•Each team plays 4 matches within their group.

•Top 2 teams from each group advance to Round 2.

#Round 2: Knockout Stage (12 teams, 6 matches)

•Winners of each match advance to Round 3.

°Losers are eliminated.

#Round 3: Quarterfinals (6 teams, 3 matches)

•Winners of each match advance to Round 4.

•Losers are eliminated.

#Round 4: Semifinals (1 match, including 1 bye)

•Top-ranked team gets a bye to the final.

•Other two match determine the remaining finalist.

#Round 5: Finals and Ranking Matches

•Final match determines the champion.

•Ranking matches determine the 2nd to 5th place teams.

~Meeting at 5:00 PM today (March 17, 2033) at Auditorium S-Class.

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Caspian leaned back in his chair, absorbing the details.

"So they're making this a full-fledged tournament…"

It made sense. The Academy was filled with future elites, and the best way to test them was through direct combat. But what really mattered was the reward.

Then caspian checked the time. 4:45 PM.

"I should go."

---

The evening sun cast long shadows over the academy as Caspian made his way through the pathways.

Students walked in groups, their voices buzzing with excitement.

Caspian ignored the chatter.

His thoughts were elsewhere.

His team—Team Z.

"It's not a bad team."

But it wasn't perfect either.

Caspian had no idea how well they would work together. And in this kind of tournament, teamwork mattered just as much as strength.

Would they trust him as a leader?

Would he even lead them?

Caspian sighed as he neared the S-Class Auditorium.

.

The grand hall was already filled by the time Caspian arrived.

Rows of students sat in elevated seats.

The ceiling stretched high, embedded with intricate mana-infused patterns that flickered with soft light.

On the massive stage, a man stood at the podium.

The professor.

Caspian narrowed his eyes slightly.

He had expected it —the vice principal.

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The man's presence alone was overwhelming.

Caspian took a seat near the back.

...

(POV: Lyrius Ryder)

Lyrius sat near the middle row.

This tournament was big and —Academy wasn't just some isolated institution. Their performances were broadcasted to the entire world.

It wasn't just about winning here. It was about status, reputation, and proving yourself to be above the rest.

Lyrius exhaled.

Then—the vice principal stepped forward.

Then he spoke, his voice was calm—

"So. Let's begin."

He glanced at the rows of students.

"As you all know, the tournament is not just for entertainment." He paused. "It is a battleground. It is a test of who among you deserves to rise—and who deserves to be forgotten."

A few students shifted in their seats.

Some looked confident, others a little nervous.

Lyrius leaned forward slightly.

He liked this guy already.

"You might be thinking, 'It's just an internal event. What does it matter?'"

The vice principal smirked.

"It matters because the world is watching."

The tension in the room thickened.

"This tournament's performance report will be shared globally. Your families will see it. Your enemies will see it. The guilds, the nobles, the mercenary leagues—everyone who holds power will be watching."

A heavy silence followed.

It wasn't just about winning now. It was about being seen.

The vice principal continued.

"And I know the next question on your mind." He stepped forward, placing both hands on the podium. "How will we determine the ranking of teams with the same number of wins?"

A pause. Then, with a sharp smile, he said:

"Time."

Several students exchanged glances.

"The faster you eliminate your opponents, the higher you place." His voice was smooth, unwavering. "It's not just about victory—it's about how quickly you crush the opposition."

Lyrius smirked.

The vice principal's gaze sharpened.

"Now, let's get to the real point."

His eyes swept across the hall, scanning each and every student.

"Let me ask you one thing. Why are you all here?"

A brief silence.

Then, a voice rose from the back.

"To become the strongest."

The vice principal nodded slowly.

"Yes. That's it."

He leaned slightly forward, his presence overwhelming.

"So tell me," his voice lowered, almost a whisper, "when you're fighting with your team, will you get the chance to become the strongest on your own?"

No one answered.

The silence spoke for itself.

The vice principal smirked.

"No, you won't." His voice was sharp. "Because when you rely on others—you put a leash on your own potential."

Lyrius clenched his fists slightly.

"Your team can be strong. They can support you. But when the moment comes, when it's just you standing in front of an enemy who won't hold back—" The vice principal's voice turned cold.

"Will you still be waiting for help?"

A few students visibly tensed.

"You should be thinking, 'I will be the one to lead. I will be the one to end the fight. I will not rely on them. They will rely on me.'"

Lyrius felt his heartbeat quicken.

"That's what it means to become the strongest. Not unity. Not teamwork. But an unshakable belief that you alone can stand at the top."

Then, from the front row, a student raised his hand hesitantly.

"But—" he hesitated before speaking. "Unity is strength, isn't it?"

The vice principal's gaze snapped to him.

"Unity?" He chuckled. "That's what the weak say when they don't believe in themselves."

A pause.

"Unity doesn't make you strong. It only ensures that the weakest link doesn't collapse immediately."

Lyrius grinned.

"Finally. Someone who gets it."

The vice principal's eyes narrowed.

"Your team is only useful as long as you are stronger than them. Otherwise, you're nothing more than dead weight."

Another silence.

Then he continued, voice calm but cutting like a blade.

"Strength isn't given. It's taken."

"Loyalty means nothing if you aren't powerful enough to demand it."

"And history never remembers those who relied on others to survive."

The words sank deep into the room.

"Some of you will hate me for saying this." His smirk widened. "Some of you will refuse to believe it."

Then he shrugged.

"And that's fine. Because by the time this tournament is over, the weak will be forgotten."

"That's the difference between those who win and those who don't."

The vice principal straightened.

"So, remember this—when you step into the arena, don't think about your team."

His gaze darkened.

"Think about yourself."

And with that, he turned away from the podium, leaving the hall in complete silence.