The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice-Chapter 151: Weight of the Fight
(POV: Caspian)
It was always like this.
Caspian's breath was steady. Measured.
But something was off.
The match had barely begun, yet his opponents were moving like veterans.
They were adapting too fast.
Even Rafael.
Caspian had fought plenty of dual-blade users before.
They were fast. They relied on rhythm—on flow. The trick to beating them wasn't speed, but breaking their momentum.
And yet—
Every time he tried, Rafael was ready.
Not just reacting—anticipating.
Caspian exhaled slowly.
He adjusted his stance—not into an elegant sword form, but something looser.
Less disciplined.
Less predictable.
Because if Rafael already knew what Caspian was supposed to do—
Then Caspian would do something else.
Rafael came in fast—again.
Caspian could have blocked with his sword.
He didn't.
Instead, he let go of his blade with one hand and reached—grabbing Rafael's wrist.
The other blade came for his ribs—Caspian turned his shoulder, taking the hit on his armor. It rattled, but he didn't let go.
A beat. A moment of imbalance.
Then—
Caspian shifted his weight, yanking Rafael forward.
It wasn't elegant. It was a brawler's move.
A half-throw, half-shove—forcing Rafael off-balance.
Caspian's knee shot up—straight to Rafael's stomach.
Crack.
[One Capsule remains Rafael]
Not enough to eliminate him.
But enough to shake him.
Rafael stumbled back, gasping for air.
His eyes widened.
Like he hadn't expected Caspian to fight like that.
Caspian rolled his shoulder, gripping his sword again.
"Not as fast as you thought, huh?" Caspian said.
Rafael's smirk returned.
The cracks were forming.
Not just in his capsule—but in his confidence.
.
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(POV : Calenthir)
The cold metal of the dagger fit snugly in her grip.
Her breath was steady.
One step, one strike, one slash.
That was all that mattered.
Her opponent—Rowan—moved swiftly, a spear in hand. The girl had precision, skill, and a predatory awareness.
Rowan lunged—Calenthir vanished.
A portal opened behind Rowan in the same instant, and Calenthir stepped out—dagger slashing toward the girl's exposed back.
The strike should have landed.
But Rowan wasn't an idiot.
She twisted, barely dodging, her spear coming up to deflect the blade.
Metal screeched against metal. Sparks flew.
Calenthir exhaled.
This was her fight.
And she had it under control.
Until—
A gust of air rippled through the battlefield.
Calenthir's instincts screamed.
Something was wrong.
She turned just in time to see Ciroth Haines closing in.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
Ciroth wasn't her opponent.
He was supposed to be Kairos'.
Her grip tightened around her dagger.
"Kairos!" she barked. No response.
Her mind snapped to a single conclusion—
He hesitated.
And because of that—
She was alone.
Ciroth grinned as he strode forward.
"Well, well," he mused. "Looks like you're in a bit of trouble."
Calenthir ignored him.
She couldn't afford to waste energy on words.
Rowan was still in front of her. Ciroth was closing in.
A pincer formation.
If she let them dictate the flow, she was done.
She had to move first.
Calenthir threw a dagger at Ciroth.
A feint. A distraction.
And it worked.
Ciroth sidestepped, flicking his rapier to knock the blade aside—a fraction of a second delay.
Calenthir took that second and teleported.
A portal snapped open behind Rowan.
Calenthir stepped through, already slashing—
But Rowan expected it this time.
The spear spun, catching the dagger mid-swing. The impact rattled Calenthir's wrist, but she absorbed the force, twisting her body into a kick.
Rowan blocked it with her forearm, grunting.
For a second, they were locked in a brutal exchange.
Strike. Dodge. Counter.
Calenthir's mind worked fast—calculating, adjusting.
She could still win.
Until Ciroth reentered the fight.
He moved like a shadow.
One second, he was meters away. The next—
He was at her side.
Rapier flashing—aimed at her ribs.
Calenthir barely teleported in time.
But not far enough.
The blade grazed her side as she reappeared, her capsule flashing red.
One hit.
[2 capsules left Calenthir]
Two more, and she was out.
Rowan and Ciroth pressed in—ruthless, relentless.
Calenthir was fast.
Her mind strained under the constant calculations—where to teleport, how to strike, when to counter.
She blocked Rowan's spear, twisted, parried Ciroth's rapier—
But her body was slowing.
Her stamina was running thin.
And then—
She miscalculated.
Rowan's spear came in low.
Calenthir dodged left.
Right into Ciroth's blade.
Pain. A burst of red light.
Her second capsule shattered.
She was on her last life.
A second of silence.
Then Ciroth laughed.
"Where's your partner?" he mocked. "I thought you weren't supposed to fight alone."
Calenthir's breath came sharp, ragged.
Her vision flicked to the side—
Kairos.
Standing there.
Watching.
His hands clenched, but his feet planted to the ground.
He still hadn't moved.
He still hesitated.
Something snapped inside Calenthir.
Not fear. Not frustration.
Rage.
"You coward!" she spat.
Kairos flinched.
But he still didn't move.
Her heart pounded.
She had one capsule left.
One chance.
She wasn't going to waste it.
Even if she had to fight alone.
Calenthir exhaled.
The pain, the exhaustion—none of it mattered.
If she was going down—she was taking one of them with her.
She moved.
Fast.
A portal snapped open behind Rowan.
Calenthir didn't teleport through it.
She threw a dagger instead—from the front.
Rowan dodged—right into the second dagger flying out of the portal.
It slammed into her shoulder.
Her capsule cracked—her second life gone.
One more hit, and Rowan would be eliminated.
For a split second, Calenthir thought she could turn this around.
And then—
Ciroth struck.
A single, precise thrust.
Aimed at her spine.
She felt the impact before she saw it.
The capsule on her back shattered.
Game over.
Her body hit the ground hard.
Her vision blurred.
A sharp ringing filled her ears.
And through the haze, she saw Kairos.
Still standing.
Still frozen.
Still useless.
Calenthir forced herself up, just enough to glare at him.
"You—" Her voice was hoarse, filled with venom. "You had one job."
Kairos' face was pale.
His mouth opened—closed.
No excuses came.
No words at all.
Calenthir let out a bitter, hollow laugh.
Then she vanished.
Eliminated.
[Calenthir Eliminated]
...
(POV: Lyrius)
Lyrius never liked fighting.
But he hated losing even more.
His heart pounded in his chest as he faced Xieran, the strongest member of Team Saga still standing.
Xieran was a brute.
Tall. Muscular. A hammer the size of Lyrius' torso resting on his shoulder. A powerhouse built for destruction.
He had already copied Xieran's movements throughout the match.
The way he swung, the way he stepped, the way his body shifted right before an attack.
It wasn't perfect—copying someone's style didn't mean he gained their power.
But it gave him a window.
A fraction of a second to act before they did.
And that was all he needed.
Xieran grinned, rolling his shoulders.
"You're faster than I expected," he admitted. "Most people don't dodge my swings."
Lyrius said nothing.
Words didn't matter here.
Only actions.
Xieran moved first.
A single step forward—the ground cracked beneath his weight.
The hammer came down.
Lyrius barely had a second to react.
His instinct screamed—jump.
He didn't.
Instead, he increased his own gravity, forcing himself down faster than normal—dodging under the hammer's arc instead of away from it.
The hammer slammed into the floor behind him, creating a massive dent.
Lyrius' fingers tightened into a fist.
His turn.
He snapped his fingers—
And Xieran's gravity tripled.
The brute's body sank. His knees buckled. His hammer—too heavy to lift.
Lyrius didn't waste the opportunity.
He rushed forward, fists coated in earth magic, striking Xieran across the jaw—hard.
The impact sent Xieran skidding back.
But he didn't fall.
His eyes sharpened.
"Not bad," Xieran muttered. "But—"
He grinned.
Then threw the hammer.
Lyrius barely had a second to process before the massive weapon spun toward him—way too fast.
Shit.
He twisted his body, using gravity to push himself sideways—not fast enough.
The hammer grazed his shoulder.
His capsule flashed red.
One hit gone.
His breathing was rough, uneven.
Focus.
Xieran had one capsule left.
Lyrius had two.
He could end this now.
One good hit.
Lyrius clenched his fists.
He ran.
Xieran lifted his hammer, bracing for impact—
Fake.
Lyrius jumped.
Mid-air, he flipped his gravity—pulling himself toward Xieran at an impossible angle.
The brute's eyes widened—
Too slow.
Lyrius' knee slammed into his face.
A second later—Xieran's last capsule shattered.
Eliminated.
[Xieran Eliminated]
Lyrius landed, panting.
He had won.
He had beaten Xieran.
But he wasn't celebrating.
His own two capsules were already gone.
One left.
And then—
A shadow.
A blur.
A girl.
Rowan.
She was already attacking.
A spear lunged for his throat.
Lyrius barely dodged.
His feet stumbled, his balance off—too slow.
The second strike came.
He tried to increase his gravity to force himself down—Rowan predicted it.
She twisted mid-air, flipped her spear, and drove the blunt end into his gut—
Direct hit.
The capsule on his back shattered.
Lyrius collapsed to his knees.
It took a second to register.
He was out.
He had lost.
He had—
He had—
His body shook.
No.
No, no, no.
His hands clenched the ground.
Why?
Why was he so useless?
He had copied their moves. He had adapted. He had tried.
But in the end—
It wasn't enough.
The match was still going.
He could hear Caspian still fighting. He could hear Kairos breathing heavily in the distance.
They were still standing.
And he wasn't.
A bitter laugh crawled up his throat.
He buried his face in his hands.
"Fuck me," he whispered.
"Fuck me."
He had wanted to win.
But wanting wasn't enough.
And now—
He was gone.
