The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice - Chapter 182

Chapter 182: Echoes of the Heart

“Oh fuck.”

Caspian’s voice cracked through clenched teeth as he took in the flood of monsters—over a hundred, dark-aura beasts pouring through the shattered gates like a wave of living shadow.

His earpiece buzzed. “To all units—abort the mission. Find the escape route. Now.”His tone was sharp, decisive—but his body trembled.

“Vera, go. Find the exit. Now.” he barked without turning back.

Vera’s voice came, grim. “But how the hell are you going to handle this alone—?”

“UNLEASH.”

The word echoed unnaturally through the chamber.

A pulse. A low vibration from the ground.

Suddenly—a fifty-meter radius around Caspian turned blood red, veins of burning aura pulsing outward from his feet.The monsters hesitated. Just for a second.

Vera didn’t ask again. He turned and vanished into the corridor.

And Caspian—

Buckled.

His knees hit stone.

Hands to the ground, fingers trembling as if being shocked.

It was too much.

This was the first time he’d summoned everything. All of them. Every monster under his command.

150+ contracts surging through his mind like lightning.

He couldn’t even scream properly.

“AaahhhhHH!” Caspian roared as red light gushed from his eyes, from his mouth, veins glowing beneath skin like molten cracks.

DING!

[Warning: Mental Stability Critical][Mental Load exceeds safe capacity: 94%… 97%… 99%…]

His mind shook like a thin bridge in a storm.

“I sacrifice—ten years of my age!” he gasped.

[Error: Life Sacrifice Failed][User has no measurable lifespan remaining]

Caspian’s eyes widened.

His heart stopped for half a second.

“No measurable… what…?”

The message didn’t make sense.

It repeated.

[You have no remaining lifespan to sacrifice.]

Caspian froze.

“I… don’t have…”

What the hell did this mean?

… was he never supposed to live this long to begin with?

…

The air was getting thicker. Denser. Even breathing began to feel like a task.

Lyrius sprinted down the cracked marble corridor with his heart thudding like a war drum in his ears. The once-pristine structure of the Bastion had aged into ruin, vines creeping up its walls like veins on a dying beast. Crumbled statues of ancient heroes lay broken at his feet.

He could still hear Caspian’s voice echoing in his sound transmitter.

“Abort the mission. Find the escape route. Immediately.”

Something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

“We were so close…” Lyrius muttered under his breath, voice tight with frustration. “Level 3 was almost done…”

Calenthir and Kairos had split off to check the secondary route. Fianna and Oliver were somewhere behind, probably doubling back to find him.

A faint hum pulled his attention as he skidded to a stop near the end of the hall.

It was a room unlike any he’d seen yet—vast, circular, lined with weathered runes and veins of obsidian that pulsed like they were alive. In the center stood a black podium, carved from stone that drank in the light around it. Rising from its top was a dark, cylindrical conduit—no, a funnel—of energy.

Black, smoky mana surged from deep beneath the podium and spiraled upward, through an open column in the cracked ceiling, flowing out like smoke into the sky above.

The Heart of the Bastion.

He didn’t need confirmation. He felt it.

It wasn’t just magic. It was corruption, concentrated into a form so ancient and pure that every fiber in his being told him to run. And yet…

He stepped closer.

Just a few more feet. Just to observe.

“This is the core… this is where everything’s being fueled,” he thought, eyes wide. “This… this energy is feeding the entire dark forest. Even the air out there felt like this…”

But as he moved alongside the black energy column, something strange happened.

A whisper. Barely audible.

“…help… me…”

He froze.

“…What?”

The voice was faint, cracking like static in a broken radio.

Lyrius turned his head slowly toward the column.

There—inside the swirling dark mana—he saw something impossible.

A hand, pale and trembling, reaching out from within the pillar of darkness. Fingers stretched as if clawing through an ocean of tar. Just a second. Maybe less.

And then it was gone—sucked back in as though it had never been there.

His breath caught.

“W-What was that…?”

He stumbled backward, nearly tripping on a fallen stone.

His body told him to run. His instincts screamed it.

But some part of him—some buried part—was curious.

“…A soul? A person?” he whispered to himself.

Then his instincts kicked back in. No time to investigate. Not now.

He turned and ran, not daring to look back.

…

The corridor curved ahead, dimly lit by moonlight. Vynesaa’s focus was steady. Her spirit sense tugged lightly — a subtle pull from the earth itself.

This way… the path is thinning. They’re guiding me right.

Behind her, hurried footsteps clicked against the cracked floor.

“Oh, spirits, this place smells like wet socks,” Marine muttered. “And not even the clean ones — like the ones you forget in your training shoes for three days, then act surprised when they start growing a second life.”

“Marine…” Vynesaa sighed.

“What?” Marine said, catching up beside her, brushing her shoulder. “It does! You’re just used to it ’cause you’re like, nature-tuned or whatever.”

Vynesaa didn’t respond. She stayed focused, tracking the mana threads her spirits were weaving.

Marine didn’t need a response to keep talking.

“You know, this place kinda reminds me of this cave I fell into when I was eleven. I was chasing this boy — Gallen, I think his name was. He had the worst haircut, like bowl-cut but tragic, and he was my first crush.”

Vynesaa raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“We were playing hide and seek, and I literally followed him through a crack in a hill. Got stuck in tunnel for three hours, thought I’d die, started naming the rocks. There was a sharp one named ‘Captain Jabby’ and a moss ball I called ‘Squishblossom.’ Anyway, when I got out, I punched Gallen in the face. He cried.”

Vynesaa blinked slowly. “That… explains a lot.”

Marine grinned. “Right? I’ve had like four crushes since then, but none of them could dodge my arrow better than him. Honestly, I should message him after this mission. Maybe he got hot. Or maybe he still has that haircut”

“…wait-.”

“Hey, Vynesaa, “Do you like Caspian?”

Vynesaa stumbled slightly.

“…What?”

Marine grinned, hopping over a broken stone tile. “Come on, don’t give me that. I asked a normal question! Totally mission-relevant too—”

“We’re in the middle of an operation,” Vynesaa said, face blank, eyes ahead.

“Which is the perfect time to be honest.” Marine nudged her shoulder lightly. “So? Spill.”

“No,” Vynesaa said flatly.

“Oooh? Really? Then I’m free to flirt with him. He’s exactly my type. You know, the ‘quiet and mysterious but secretly soft’ kind. And the white hair is a bonus—he looks like he’s straight out of a books. Very my vibe.”

Vynesaa stopped walking. The spirits were pulsing. The path to the exit was near.

“I think we’re close,” she said.

“Oh, finally!” Marine threw her hands in the air.