The Cursed Extra-Chapter 144: [3.17] The Coward’s Rescue Mission (Nobody Asked For)

Chapter 144: [3.17] The Coward’s Rescue Mission (Nobody Asked For)

"Heroes save people because it’s the right thing to do. I save people because dead protagonists make for boring stories. We are not the same."

***

The timeline was screaming at me.

Every second that passed brought us closer to the moment when the Morgenthorne family’s sabotage would kick in. Support beams would crack. Ceilings would fall. Rhys and his team would be trapped in a section that was about to become a mass grave.

The protagonist would arrive dramatically to save the day. That was how the story was supposed to go. He would rescue the survivors. He would be celebrated as a hero. And Rhys Blackwood, the commoner with the spear and the sick sister, would die off-screen. A footnote in someone else’s journey. A sacrifice to fuel character development for a guy who didn’t need it.

Not today.

But I couldn’t just announce my knowledge and lead a rescue mission. That would expose everything I’d worked to hide. The pathetic coward Kaelen Leone couldn’t suddenly transform into a tactical genius without raising questions I couldn’t answer.

I had to maneuver my team into position without revealing that I knew exactly what was about to happen.

Fun times.

"Maybe we should check on them," I said. "I mean, if they’re in trouble and we could help... That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Help each other? As a... as a team?"

I gazed up at Marcus with deliberately wide, anxious eyes, blinking rapidly as though fighting back tears of fear. My entire posture screamed reluctant sacrifice—the performative bravery of someone who expected to be dismissed and was secretly counting on it.

"Your manual says something about that, doesn’t it?" I pressed gently, voice cracking at just the right moment. "About working together? Supporting our fellow... um... House members?"

Marcus hesitated, his expression contorting beautifully. I could practically see the gears grinding in his head, caught in the perfect trap between his instinctive desire to dismiss anything I suggested and his inability to argue against the fundamental academy principle I’d so innocently invoked.

Come on, you rule-following nerd. Take the bait. The manual is practically your religious text. You can’t resist its sacred commandments.

"That’s surprisingly brave of you, Kaelen," Seraphina said, her soft voice carrying an undercurrent I didn’t entirely like.

Something in her tone made me look at her more carefully.

Her grey eyes held a knowing glint. She was studying me again. Building her little mental file. And she was smiling. Just slightly. Just enough to tell me she found something amusing about all this.

She knows I’m acting.

She might not know what I really am. But she knows I’m not what I pretend to be. And she’s watching to see what I’ll do next.

Fantastic. Just what I needed. A suspicious beauty with observation skills.

The sound of combat grew louder. Somewhere in that darkness, Rhys Blackwood was fighting for his life against enemies he couldn’t see while a death trap ticked toward activation around him. His spear would be flashing in the torchlight. His earth magic would be throwing up barriers and traps.

And it wouldn’t be enough.

Nothing he could do would be enough, because the danger wasn’t the enemies he could see. The danger was the ceiling waiting to fall on his head.

Marcus closed his manual with obvious reluctance. The leather cover snapped shut. His face showed the internal struggle of a man whose entire worldview was being challenged, but who couldn’t quite bring himself to ignore someone in need.

There it is. The conscience wins.

"If we’re going to do this, we need to be smart about it," he said finally. His voice had regained some authority, though resignation tinged the edges. "The maintenance tunnel is narrow and potentially unstable. We’ll be vulnerable if we encounter hostile forces. We should proceed in formation, with weapons ready."

Translation: I don’t want to do this, but I can’t say no without looking like a jerk.

"Then we’ll have to be careful," I said. I was already moving toward the leftmost passage. "And hope we’re not too late."

The words tasted prophetic. We had forty-five minutes. Maybe less. Time enough to reach Rhys if we moved quickly. Time enough to pull him out before the collapse began.

Time enough to rewrite a death scene that the narrative had already scripted.

No pressure or anything.

As we entered the maintenance tunnel, I felt the familiar weight of stolen time pressing down on me. Every step took us closer to a confrontation that would test everything I’d learned about manipulation, deception, and the art of appearing weak while orchestrating salvation.

The stone walls closed in around us. The phosphorescent moss grew thinner here. Less light. More shadows gathering in corners and crevices.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching.

Behind me, I could hear Seraphina’s footsteps. Not following the group’s rhythm. Matching mine specifically. Her breath was quiet. Controlled. The breath of someone paying very close attention.

Stop that. Stop matching my pace. It’s creepy.

She was studying my movements with the same intensity she’d applied to the ancient warning symbols. Every step I took was being recorded. Every gesture filed away. She was building a case on Kaelen Leone, and I suspected she wouldn’t rest until she understood the gap between what I showed the world and what I really was.

She knows something. The question is how much. And what she plans to do about it.

The tunnel curved to the right, forcing us to slow down as visibility dropped. Marcus’s torch cast jumping shadows across walls that seemed to press closer with each step.

The sounds of combat grew clearer.

I could make out individual voices now. Shouts of warning. Cries of pain. The ring of metal on stone and the deeper thud of earth magic being channeled through desperate hands.

And underneath it all, a rumbling.

Low. Constant. I could feel it in my teeth more than hear it with my ears.

The mountain was waking up. The supports were starting to fail.

We have less time than I thought.