The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice-Chapter 172: No Way Out

(POV: Caspian)

"Demon?" Caspian’s voice cracked slightly. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

He stared at the man before him, tied, unable to move.

"What the hell are you talking about? I’m not a demon."

The man — white hair, green eyes sharp as glass — didn’t flinch.

"Strange, then," the man said quietly. "I can read the memories of everyone I meet. Everyone. Except those two kinds of people — people strong enough to block me..."

He leaned in, eyes narrowing.

"...or demons."

Caspian’s heart thudded once — heavy.

What kind of ability is this...? he thought, mind racing.

The man didn’t give him time to catch his breath.

"That’s my first suspicion," the man continued. "The second —"

He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed.

"—If you’re not a demon, tell me this... Where’s the ’Colossus’?"

Caspian blinked. "What?"

"The weapon," the man said, voice like a low cut of steel. "The Wolf. A demon-forged relic. Only those with Outer lineage can hold it. No human can summon it And yet...."

The man tilted his head slightly.

"I saw you wield it."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Caspian replied sharply.

"I thought you’d say that."

A quiet knock on the door.

A man in a long coat stepped in — face hidden beneath a black mask. He walked past Caspian, silent, and slid a crystal disk onto the table between them.

The man pressed a rune.

Click.

A projection flared to life — hazy at first, then clear.

Caspian saw it.

Himself.

On the entrance exam field.

Holding the weapon.

The black, jagged blade gleamed — the same violet energy crackling at its edge.

Caspian felt his blood run cold.

"Where’s the weapon?" the white-haired man asked again, his voice quieter, deadlier.

Caspian clenched his fists.

He had no choice.

’What should I do... Bloodmoon?’ Caspian whispered inside his mind.

{Show them.} came the calm, deep voice of Bloodmoon.

Caspian exhaled, slow.

"Fine."

In a soft pulse of violet light, the blade appeared in his hands — its presence sharp, unnatural even in this dark room.

The violet glow painted his face in a cold hue.

He lifted his head.

"...Who the hell are you?" Caspian asked.

The masked man beside the projector stepped forward without a word — flipping a black ID card toward him.

Bold letters glared back.

HASS — External Intelligence Agency

Caspian stared.

HASS...?

The intelligence arm of the World Council —.

The violet glow of the summoned sword still flickered faintly in Caspian’s restrained hands — a soft hum against the thick air of the interrogation room.

Kismet leaned back in his chair, hands clasped loosely in front of him, eyes fixed on Caspian.

Gac, the masked agent, chuckled under his breath.

"And you’re still telling us you’re not a demon?" Gac scoffed.

Kismet didn’t even look at him.

"You really think we’re fools?" Gac added with a crooked smile.

"You’re right," Kismet said quietly, his eyes never leaving Caspian. "We are fools...."

Caspian swallowed down the pressure building in his chest.

There’s nothing I can do.

No mana. No strength.

I’m tied up. They’re stronger... and I don’t even know who the hell they are.

Wait!

I have seen this guy somewhere where was it?

’...’

’News’

Yes he was in news kismet criminal who run away from ruined continent.

Criminal and a HASS Agent.

What the fuck is this combination of a criminal and a HASS Agent.

He sucked in a slow breath and forced his voice steady.

"Look... let’s talk this out."

Kismet raised an eyebrow, motioning faintly with his hand. The violet sword in Caspian’s grip dimmed.

"You can believe whatever you want," Caspian continued, locking eyes with him, "but I’m not a demon. You think that because I have the Colossus... which I got during a trial at the Arcwright estate."

"That’s where I claimed the weapon."

Kismet’s eyes didn’t shift. He stayed still, watching.

"And secondly," Caspian pressed, "you can’t read my memories. That’s... what’s scaring you, isn’t it?"

A faint hum flickered between them.

Kismet finally blinked.

The corner of his mouth lifted — just barely.

Not a smirk. Not anger. Something else.

"Scaring?"

Caspian leaned slightly forward, shackles clinking.

"But while we’re at it... aren’t you Kismet? The one who broke out of the Ruined continent prison a few days ago?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"So, tell me... how can I not think you’re a demon?"

His words dropped into the air.

And inside his head —

’I haven’t read about him at all in the novel... so is he...? A demon? A rogue piece? Or... is this something bigger?’

’What if he thinks I’m a demon... because he’s one too? And he’s got some plan... and I’m part of it.’

Kismet stared for a long moment.

Then, slowly — he leaned back.

"Hm... I get it now," Kismet murmured. "You’re not a demon."

He flicked his fingers once.

"Gac... step outside."

"Ok."

The masked agent hesitated for a second — then gave a slight bow and walked out without another word. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Silence returned.

Kismet leaned forward again —

His voice dropped lower.

"I’m going to say some words... If you understand even one of them... just say yes."

Caspian tensed.

Kismet stared into his eyes.

"Europe."

A chill shot down Caspian’s spine.

"Australia."

Caspian blinked.

What...?

His throat dried up.

Is he...?

Kismet watched his face carefully, his expression unreadable — neither smug nor threatening.

"Well?" Kismet asked softly.

The room stayed dead silent.

Caspian’s thoughts screamed.

Is he... a transmigrator? Just like me?

Is he... like me?

Caspian’s mind raced.

Another transmigrator... in this world?

Should I tell him?

Caspian’s thoughts circled tightly.

Play dumb... or be straight about it?

He weighed the options fast.

No. If he’s really a transmigrator — and strong — having him as backup is better than making him suspicious.

Caspian gave a slow nod.

"Yeah... I know those words."

Kismet gave him a look — flat, unreadable.

A slight pause.

"Oh," Kismet said, leaning back slightly in his chair, "is that so."

"...What?"

Caspian blinked.

That’s it?

Kismet tilted his head.

"You seem... confused," he said simply.

"No. Sorry... didn’t expect that reaction."

Kismet gave a small breath — almost a soundless chuckle.

"Why? You thought you’re the only one?"

He shook his head slightly.

"You’re the third I’ve met."

Caspian blinked.

"...Third?"

Kismet gave a small nod.

"Yeah."

He didn’t elaborate.

The silence sat there, not heavy — but present.

Caspian shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly.

"And the other two?"

Kismet’s eyes stayed calm.

"Not your concern... yet."

He leaned forward just enough for his voice to drop.

"But if you’re smart... you’ll learn to keep your head low. This world has a way of chewing people like us apart when we think we’re special."

Then he leaned back again, gaze steady.

"Just some advice."

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