The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice-Chapter 133: A Question From the Past

Elana, the professor overseeing the Magic Theory class, closed the book in her hands and glanced at the students.

"Now that you understand the fundamentals of Magic Zones," she said, "we will conduct practical training after the lunch break. All of you are to gather at the Arcane Field—the academy's largest training ground. Be there on time."

With that, the class was dismissed, and students began rising from their seats, chattering about the upcoming session.

Caspian moves toward the academy's main canteen, weaving through the large corridors.

He was aware of the presence following him before she even spoke.

"Hey, Caspian."

Fianna's voice was soft.

Caspian glanced at her briefly before nodding. "Fianna."

She hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"I know this is… out of the blue. But there's something that's been bothering me for a while." She said.

Caspian said nothing, waiting for her to speak.

"What happened to you… nine years ago?"

Nine years.

That day.

Caspian's gaze remained forward.

What happened?

"We were ambushed by a pack of lupivores," he said evenly. "Somehow, I survived and got separated from my family."

Fianna's brows furrowed. "Separated? What was your security doing?"

"I don't know."

It was the most neutral answer he could give.

Fianna studied him for a long moment. Caspian could feel the weight of her gaze.

But he wasn't going to tell her anything more.

Now wasn't the time.

And then—

"Caspian!"

A different voice called out, breaking the tension.

He turned to see Zareth, walking toward them.

"Let's go," Zareth said simply.

"Where?" Caspian asked.

"The professor is calling us to the disciplinary office. Now."

Fianna frowned. "What happened?"

"Nothing serious," Caspian assured her. "Wait a little."

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push either.

Caspian sighed inwardly. So much for lunch.

.

The room was large.

Seated on one side were the second-year students—Eirak and his group, still sporting injuries from their earlier encounter.

Alongside them sat three third-year students—upperclassmen.

Caspian walked in, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling on the professor seated behind the desk.

A stern-looking man, Professor Aldric, regarded them with a gaze that was both exhausted and utterly unimpressed.

He leaned back in his chair.

The room fell silent as he finally spoke.

"You are all students of this academy," he began, "You have barely started the next or new academic year, and yet, here you are—on your second day, already standing in front of me for fighting."

No one responded.

Aldric's eyes moved over the gathered students, stopping briefly on Caspian before continuing.

"This institution is not a playground," he said. "It is an academy where you—the next generation—are expected to become leaders, scholars, warriors, and magic users of the highest caliber."

His voice darkened slightly.

"And yet, some of you seem far too eager to settle your disputes with violence instead of reason."

Still, silence.

Caspian didn't speak, nor did Zareth.

Eirak and his group, however, shifted in their seats, expressions flickering with irritation.

Aldric exhaled through, as if debating whether to waste more time lecturing.

"Your punishment," he finally said, "is a deduction of 2,000 merit points."

Muffled groans came from Eirak and the others.

That was a lot—losing merit points meant less access to academy privileges, resources, and even advancement in future years.

Aldric's gaze landed on Caspian.

"As for you, Caspian—you're new here, and I don't believe you fully understand the weight of academy rules yet. 1,000 points deduction."

Caspian remained expressionless. Expected.

Aldric straightened in his seat. "This time, I'm letting all of you off with just a deduction. But if any of you—any of you—find yourselves back in this office again for similar reasons…"

He let his words hang in the air before finishing:

"You'll be facing harsher consequences. Expulsion is not off the table."

The room was silent.

Finally, Aldric waved a hand dismissively. "You're dismissed."

Caspian stood, turning to leave alongside Zareth.

'The Principal told me not to take serious action. Must be because of that new guy.' Professor thought.

.

Caspian moved through hallway thinking.

The Academy was regulated by the Supreme Branch—an entity above all noble households.

No protection. No favoritism.

It didn't matter if you were a Duke's son or a commoner.

Here? You either stood on your own… or you fell.

.

Caspian sat alone at the far end of the academy's bustling canteen, staring down at his meal—a simple tray with a bowl of thin soup and a piece of dry bread.

It wasn't much.

But it was all he could afford.

Every new student was granted 1,500 merit points at the beginning of their academy life—a way to sustain themselves until they could start earning through missions and competitions.

But after the 1,000-point deduction, Caspian's balance had dropped to a mere 500 points.

"...Oh, fuck," he muttered under his breath.

The realization hit him hard. He barely had enough left for a week of meals.

If he didn't start earning points soon, he'd be completely broke.

I should take a mission next weekend.

The academy followed a strict weekly schedule:

Monday to Friday → Classes ran from 9:00 AM to 2:00 PM. After that, students could train, attend clubs, or do personal studies.

Saturday & Sunday → The weekend. Students could take missions to earn merit points—hunting, research, portals, or other assigned tasks.

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Missions were voluntary, but for students like Caspian, they weren't just an option. They were a necessity.

As he took another bite of bread, his thoughts shifted.

Elana would likely announce the formation of 5-person teams in the next few days.

That meant he had to start thinking about which group to join—or risk getting left with a team of random students.

But that was a problem for later.

Right now?

He checked the time.

Two minutes before class starts.

His eyes widened.

Oh, shit.

If he was late, he might lose even more points.

Shoving the last bite of bread into his mouth, Caspian jumped to his feet and running.

After one minute.

It hit him—

He didn't even know where the next class was.

Bad habit. Doing things before thinking.

Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his phone and opened the academy map. His next class was at the Arcane Training Grounds—a massive open-field training facility on the opposite side of campus.

Far.

Too far.

No time to think.

Caspian took off running.

His boots pounded against the stone pathways as he sprinted through the academy grounds, dodging between students and nearly knocking over a few along the way.

"Oi! Watch it!" someone yelled.

Caspian ignored them. He had less than two minutes.

And then—

From the corner of his eye, another figure was running beside him.

A familiar voice called out—

"You're late."

Caspian glanced over.

Darian.

The tall, sharp-eyed student matched his pace effortlessly, his expression unbothered despite the full sprint.

Caspian scoffed. "Fucker, so are you."

Darian grinned. "Then let's make it interesting."

"…What?"

"A race."

Caspian raised an eyebrow, still running. "You want to race—when we're already running?"

Darian smirked. "First one to reach the training grounds wins."

Caspian let out a breath. No time to argue.

"Fine."

"On three."

Caspian clenched his fists.

"One—"

"Two—"

"Three!"

And then they exploded forward.

.

The Arcane Training Grounds were vast, stretching across a massive open field. This was where students learned the practical applications of magic, trained their spells, and tested their abilities in real combat scenarios.

By the time Caspian and Darian burst through the entrance, the class was already assembled.

A group of students stood in a semi-circle, attentively listening to Elana, who stood in the center, arms crossed, a sharp look in her eyes.

The moment her gaze fell on them—

Shit.

Caspian barely had time to catch his breath before she spoke.

"50 points deduction. Both of you."

Her tone was calm, but the weight of her words hit like a hammer.

Caspian clenched his jaw.

Not even five minutes into class, and I already lost more points.

Darian let out a small sigh. "Not even a warning?"

Elana raised an eyebrow. "You think you deserve one?"

Caspian and Darian exchanged glances but said nothing.

The rest of the class watched in silence, some smirking, others murmuring under their breath.

Elana turned away. "Since you two are already here, you might as well pay attention."

She raised her hand, and the ground beneath them trembled.

A transparent dome of energy expanded around her, shimmering with light.

"This," she said, "is the first concept of today's lesson—Magic Zones."

Elana lifted her hand, and the dome around her shifted, morphing into different shapes.

.

1. Attack Zone

The dome around her condensed, turning red as the air inside it vibrated with power.

"This is an Attack Zone."

She swiped her hand, and suddenly—a spear of fire shot out, moving so fast that the air around it cracked.

But the moment the spear reached the edge of the zone—it stopped, as if hitting an invisible wall, before disintegrating into nothing.

"In an Attack Zone, offensive spells gain increased speed, precision, and strength within its area."

Caspian watched carefully.

"It's most effective for close-range combatants who rely on quick, high-impact magic. However," she continued, "the drawback is clear—long-range attacks are impossible. If your opponent stays outside your zone, you're at a disadvantage."

The dome faded, and a new one appeared—this time, a solid blue barrier.