The Cursed Extra-Chapter 113: [2.61] The Countdown Begins

"Everyone in this room thinks they know who’s going to die. Only I know they’re wrong."

***

I let my face cycle through appropriate emotions.

First confusion. As if I didn’t understand why Vance was looking at me.

Then fear. Eyes widening and breath quickening in visible distress.

Finally, a nervous attempt to look away. Breaking eye contact with the submissive gesture of someone accepting their inferior position. My hands trembled slightly in my lap. My shoulders hunched even further.

Vance’s smile widened at my apparent discomfort. Showed more teeth. Satisfaction gleamed in those empty eyes. He’d gotten what he wanted. Confirmation that I was terrified. Confirmation that I remembered my place.

He turned back to face the platform with obvious triumph. Already dismissing me from his thoughts.

Keep thinking you rattled me. Keep believing you’re the predator and I’m the prey.

It’ll make what comes next so much sweeter.

"Questions?" De Clare called out, though her tone suggested she hoped there wouldn’t be any. Her flask was already back in her hand.

A brave Aurum student raised his hand. Undeterred by her obvious lack of interest. He was young. Eager. With the kind of fresh-faced enthusiasm that hadn’t yet been ground down by the academy’s reality.

"Professor, what exactly are the objective markers we’re supposed to retrieve?"

De Clare sighed. The sound carried through the hall with theatrical exasperation.

"Goblin chieftain totems. Each section of the warren has one. Usually kept in the deepest chamber where the strongest goblins nest." She took another pull from her flask. "You’ll know them when you see them. They’re covered in bones, skulls, and other charming decorations. The goblins consider them sacred. They get very upset when you take them."

The eager student paled slightly at this description. Several of his classmates shifted uncomfortably.

Another hand went up from House Argent. This one attached to a young woman with sharp features and assessing eyes.

"What about equipment restrictions?"

"Bring whatever you want, within reason." De Clare shrugged. The gesture somehow conveyed profound indifference to their survival. "No siege weapons. No explosives that could collapse the tunnels. No poison gas that might drift into other sections. Use your common sense."

A pause. Heavy with implied insult.

"Assuming any of you possess such a thing."

Fen’s voice cut through the nervous murmur that followed. Loud and demanding in a way that made several nearby students flinch.

"What happens if we encounter something other than goblins down there?"

De Clare’s amber eyes found the wolf-kin student. Something like approval flickered across her scarred face.

"Smart question. The warrens occasionally house other creatures. Dire rats. Cave fishers. The occasional owlbear that wandered in looking for easy prey. The ecosystem down there is more complex than most people realize."

She paused. Her expression shifted into something more serious. More honest.

"If you encounter something beyond your capabilities, retreat and report it. Dead heroes impress no one. There’s no glory in dying to prove a point."

Except that’s not entirely true.

There’s at least one encounter that’s been deliberately arranged.

In the original story, Team 7’s death hadn’t been caused by random bad luck or overwhelming goblin numbers.

The Morgenthorne family had arranged for the safety wards in their section to fail. Created a trap that would eliminate Rhys while appearing to be a tragic accident.

Someone had paid the right people. Manipulated the right systems. Ensured that a commoner who threatened their mining interests would simply... disappear.

The plan was elegant in its simplicity.

Remove a potential threat while providing Leo with motivation for future heroics. Kill four birds with one stone. Then let the protagonist angst about it for a Chapter or two before moving on to more important matters.

But they don’t know I know.

And they certainly don’t know I can do something about it.

"Departure is set for dawn, one week from today," De Clare announced. Brought my attention back to the present. Her voice had shifted again. Taking on the tone of someone delivering final instructions. "Spend the time wisely. Train together. Plan your approach. Make peace with whatever gods you pray to."

Another pause. Longer this time.

"Some of you won’t be coming back."

A collective, sharp intake of breath hissed through the hall.

The casual bravado that had filled the room moments before evaporated like morning mist. Replaced by the cold weight of mortality.

Some students looked at their teammates with new eyes. Suddenly aware that these might be the last faces they saw. Others stared at the floor. Unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze.

De Clare watched this reaction with something that might have been satisfaction. Might have been disappointment. Hard to tell with her.

"Dismissed. Try not to embarrass yourselves too badly between now and then."

The hall erupted into nervous chatter as students began filing out.

I remained seated for a moment longer.

My eyes tracked every subtle shift in the room’s dynamics. Cataloged information that might prove useful later.

The political landscape was already transforming around me.

Stronger teams gravitated toward one another. Their voices low and urgent as they discussed tactics and potential alliances. House Aurum’s elite clustered around Leo. House Argent’s schemers formed their own smaller conclaves. No doubt already planning how to exploit this assessment for maximum advantage.

Meanwhile, the weaker groups huddled in corners. Faces drawn with the dawning realization that no amount of last-minute preparation could bridge the vast gulf between their meager abilities and the deadly challenges that awaited them.

Some were trying to look brave.

Most were failing.

And then there’s Rhys.

My attention settled on Rhys Blackwood. He hadn’t stirred from his position. Sat frozen in place. His gaze fixed on the team assignments with the vacant stare of a condemned man awaiting execution.

The projection had already faded. But he was still looking at the space where it had been. As if hoping the names might rearrange themselves into something less terrible.

His calloused hands clutched his weathered spear with such force that his knuckles had blanched to a bloodless white. Deep furrows of worry carved themselves into the skin around his forest-green eyes.

The raw tension in his shoulders told a story even clearer than words.

He knows. Maybe not the specifics, but he knows this is a trap.

Instinct, probably. Border folk developed a sense for danger that city-raised nobles never quite grasped. They had to. Out there, missing the signs of an ambush meant death.

And right now, every instinct Rhys possessed was screaming that something was wrong with this picture.

The smart play would be to approach him directly. Offer assistance in exchange for loyalty.

But that would draw attention from exactly the people I need to avoid.

The Morgenthornes had eyes everywhere. House Vermillion’s information network rivaled House Argent’s. They would certainly notice if a worthless extra from House Onyx suddenly started cultivating connections with their designated victim.

I’ll have to be more subtle. More indirect.

Time to set the stage.

I stood slowly. Maintained my facade of injury-induced weakness. My movements were careful. Deliberate. Carried the stiffness of someone still recovering from a brutal beating.

A few students glanced my way. Their expressions ranged from pity to contempt. Before dismissing me from their thoughts.

Exactly as planned.

As I shuffled toward the exit, keeping my head down and my shoulders hunched, I passed Seraphina’s row.

The silver-haired healer was gathering her journal. Preparing to leave with the rest of our assigned team.

Her grey eyes met mine.

They held the unsettling intensity of someone who had noticed something that didn’t fit. And was now trying to figure out exactly what that something was.

Another problem to manage.

At least she’s on my team now.

I broke eye contact first. Let my gaze skitter away like a nervous animal. My feet carried me toward the doors.

The performance continued.

But I could feel those winter-sky eyes on my back. Watching. Analyzing. Cataloging inconsistencies that would keep her up at night.

One week.

Seven days to prepare. To plan. To position every piece exactly where it needs to be.

The game is beginning in earnest. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

And I don’t intend to lose.