The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice-Chapter 145: Meeting Vice Principal

(POV: Caspian)

The silence was suffocating.

The five of them—eliminated.

They had all just walked out of the battlefield, but no one spoke.

Lyrius —

Lyrius was shaking.

Team Void | 1 Win | 0 Lose | 3 Points | Time - 25 min 47 sec

Team Z | 0 Win | 1 Lose | 0 Points

Team Dicken | 0 Win | 1 Lose | 0 Points

Team Saga | 0 Matches Yet

----------------------------------

Team Void.

That was the team that eliminated them.

They had taken 25 minutes and 47 seconds to do it.

Longer than the first match but still fast.

They were at the bottom.

---

"Well, that was embarrassing."

Kairos was the first to break the silence.

Then—

Silence again.

Then—

"…So, what now?"

Lyrius' voice was calmer this time, but the edge was still there.

Caspian finally spoke.

"We analyze."

Four pairs of eyes turned toward him.

He met their gazes steadily.

"We made mistakes. We figure them out now, or we'll repeat them."

He looked at Calenthir first.

"You relied too much on hit-and-run tactics. Zane was unpredictable. You should've adjusted."

Calenthir frowned but didn't argue.

Then, Lyrius.

"You fought well," Caspian admitted. "But you hesitated. You copied Varren, but you didn't fully commit to the move. That's why they countered you."

Lyrius' eyes darkened.

He didn't respond.

A heavy silence stretched.

Then, surprisingly—

"…Yeah."

Lyrius exhaled sharply.

"You're right."

Caspian blinked.

That was… unexpected.

Lyrius looked at him, gaze still sharp but no longer outright hostile.

"We're not losing again," he muttered.

Kairos snorted. "Not unless we get another team as ridiculous as Void."

Vera stretched. "Well, at least we're not dead last."

Calenthir rolled her eyes. "Yet."

Caspian let out a slow breath.

They lost.

But at least—they were still talking.

.

[Inside the Lecture Hall]

"Magic Zones are extensions of yourself."

Elara voice was steady.

"Many of you understand this at a surface level."

She let her words sink in before continuing.

"But what most fail to realize is that your zone is not separate from your bloodline. It is inherently connected—whether you are aware of it or not."

She walked slowly, heels clicking softly against the floor.

"If your bloodline is linked to fire, your zone will, in some way, reflect that. It may enhance your flames. It may alter the way they burn. It may allow you to ignite something that should not be flammable at all."

Her gaze sharpened.

"If your bloodline is tied to earth, your zone will strengthen the ground beneath you. It may reinforce your defenses. It may make the terrain itself your weapon."

She paused.

"Every ability—every gift—has a deeper root. And if you do not understand that root, you will never reach mastery."

The hall remained silent.

Even the ones who had been unfocused before were now paying attention.

Because this wasn't just theory.

It was practical.

They had already fought in their first matches.

And now, looking back, some of them realized their mistakes.

They had zones.

And they barely used them.

Elana's expression didn't change, but there was the faintest hint of approval in her eyes.

She could tell they were thinking.

That was good.

"That concludes today's lesson."

Elana's voice broke the silence.

Then, her gaze swept across them once more.

"And before you leave—"

A pause.

"I noticed that only a few of you properly used your zones in the previous match."

Her voice remained calm.

"In your next battles—do not forget."

A brief silence followed.

Then—

Her expression shifted ever so slightly.

"Also. The teams I am about to name—meet the Vice Principal immediately."

The room tensed.

Elana glanced at the list in her hand.

Then, she spoke the first name.

"Team Fyna."

"Team Z"

...

..

.

'What the fuck does he want now?'

Before he could think further, the door to the Vice Principal's office creaked open.

A group of students walked out—expressions neutral, though some looked mildly frustrated.

"Team Z," a voice called.

Our turn.

Caspian exchanged a glance with Lyrius.

Calenthir adjusted her sleeves, looking indifferent.

Vera stood at the back, shifting her weight uncomfortably. Kairos let out a low sigh but followed suit.

The five of them stepped inside.

---

(POV: Lyrius)

The office wasn't extravagant. It was neat.

Not a single paper was out of place. Not a single speck of dust on the shelves.

Everything was precise.

And at the center of it sat Vice Principal Orien.

A thick file rested in front of him, the label clear—Team Z.

As soon as they entered, he flipped it open.

His tone was polite, but there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath it.

"Oh, yes. Very welcome," he said, eyes scanning the first page.

Then, he started reading aloud.

"Caspian. Rank 2nd in the Entrance Exam."

His gaze flickered toward Caspian but gave nothing away.

"Lyrius Ryder. Rank 3rd."

A brief glance at him.

"Calenthir Reyes. Rank 5th."

Calenthir didn't react.

"Vera... ranked 137th."

A pause.

Then, his eyes fell on the last name.

"And Kairos. Rank 15th."

Another silence.

Then, a quiet scoff.

"A top-class group."

He closed the file with a soft thud.

"Tch. Disappointing."

Lyrius clenched his jaw.

What?

Disappointing?

They had strong fighters. Even if they lost their match, they weren't weak.

His fingers twitched, but he forced himself to remain still.

Orien leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together.

"I assume you all know why you're here," he said, voice even.

Silence.

Nobody answered.

He exhaled through his nose.

"Then I'll make it clear. This isn't some consolation talk. I don't care if you feel bad about losing. That's your problem."

His eyes sharpened.

"What I care about—"

A tap on the file.

"—is the way you lost."

His gaze flickered between them.

"You had coordination issues. You had misplays. And some of you—" His gaze landed on Vera. "—were nothing more than dead weight."

Vera flinched but said nothing.

But Orien wasn't finished.

He turned to Caspian.

"You're Rank 2, yet you let your team crumble. You had the tools to lead, but you didn't."

A brief pause.

"Or maybe... you just didn't care."

Caspian's face remained blank.

Orien moved on.

"Lyrius. You had the tools to carry. Gravity-based abilities, incredible adaptability—yet you hesitated. You relied too much on external factors instead of taking control."

'Hesitated? Bullshit.' Lyrius thought.

Orien glanced at Calenthir.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

"And you. A portal user. Spatial manipulation—one of the most broken abilities in combat."

He leaned forward.

"Yet, you used it like a goddamn escape mechanism. A crutch, rather than a weapon."

Calenthir's lips pressed together, but she didn't argue.

Orien finally settled on Kairos.

"You. You had openings. You had a clear shot at securing an elimination multiple times. Yet, you second-guessed yourself. You weren't playing to win—you were playing to survive."

Kairos exhaled but remained silent.

Then, Orien sat back.

"You all had potential."

He tapped the file once more.

"Yet, your performance? Mediocre at best."

His gray eyes flickered over them.

"And let me make something very clear—I do not give a damn about your potential."

A cold finality settled in his voice.

"I care about results."

Lyrius' nails dug into his palm.

He knew they lost.

He knew they had flaws.

But hearing it laid out like this—so bluntly, so ruthlessly—made something burn inside him.

'You hesitated.'

Was that really it?

Was he really the type to hold back?

"No."

Lyrius wasn't someone who hesitated.

He wasn't someone who played it safe.

So why—why the fuck had he lost?

His jaw tightened.

Orien glanced at the clock.

"That's all for today," he said. "Now get out."

A simple dismissal.

"Wait!"Orien said.

"Also —There's no such thing as a strong team—only strong individuals."

Lyrius turned.

Fine.

Let him think whatever the fuck he wanted.

Next time—

They wouldn't just lose.

They'd crush whoever stood in their way.

They No I will crush whoever stood in my fucking way.

As Team Z turned to leave, Orien's voice cut through once more.

"And one more thing."

They paused.

"Meet me in front of the training ground at 5:00 AM. Sharp."

Orien leaned back in his chair.

"I see potential in your team."

A brief silence.

"But you're useless."

His words were direct. Cutting.

"I thought you'd show me something great—" He scoffed. "—but you disappointed me."

His fingers tapped against the table rhythmically.

"When the principal asked which teams had the best chance of winning this tournament, I gave two names."

He leaned forward, voice dropping to a near-growl.

"And you—let me down in the first match."

He exhaled.

"Now get out."

A moment later, they were gone.

---

(Morning, 5:00 AM)

The training grounds were silent.

The sun had yet to rise , and a cold morning mist clung to the air.

Yet, despite the early hour, a total of five teams stood waiting.

No one spoke.

Some were still groggy from the lack of sleep.

Others, like Lyrius and Caspian, stood with arms crossed, watching silently.

Orien arrived precisely on time.

He wasn't dressed like a professor today—no formal attire. Just a fitted combat uniform and gloves, as if he were ready for battle.

His eyes scanned the gathered students.

"Good," he said. "You're all here."

Then—

A thick stack of papers landed on the ground in front of them.

"Pick them up."

No one moved.

His gaze hardened.

"Pick. Them. Up."

Hesitantly, they did.

Inside, it wasn't some basic training schedule.

It was a breakdown.

Tactics. Mistakes. Glaring weaknesses.

Each team's match was analyzed in detail.

For some, it was brutal. Every mistake, every misstep—laid bare on the paper in front of them.

Then, Orien spoke.

"Teamwork?" He scoffed. "Support?" A bitter chuckle followed. "I won't waste my time on such things."

His eyes landed on Caspian, then drifted to the others.

"You lot think battles are won because you have allies?" His voice dripped with ridicule. "That's why you lost."

He tapped his foot against the ground.

"I don't train teams—I train winners."

A heavy silence followed

Then, with a smirk, Orien snapped his fingers.

The battlefield shifted.

The ground beneath them rumbled, stone tiles shifting like a puzzle.

A massive, glowing tower erupted from the earth. It stood tall, its presence imposing, stretching into the sky like a monument to power.

At its base, a single, wide entrance awaited.

"The rules are simple." Orien crossed his arms. "You enter alone."

He let that sink in.