The Game's Extra: Azhriel Odyssey

Slash.

Azhriel's sword, wrapped in cold mist, cut through the air. A red glow flashed nearby as another cadet disappeared in a pillar of light.

+10.

He let out a quiet breath. He had gathered a good number of points by now—probably enough to reach the top fifty. But that wasn't enough. Not for him.

Solas had given him a clear order: finish in the top ten. Azhriel had no plans of falling short.

He slowly turned his head in one direction, his voice calm and cold.

"How long are you all going to keep hiding?"

The hidden figures froze.

They had been well concealed with an assassination technique, not making a single sound, their presence hidden with care. Yet somehow, he had still noticed them.

One by one, they stepped out from behind the trees.

Among them, the one at the front caught Azhriel's attention immediately. He knew that face well—too well.

'David,' Azhriel thought quietly.

David's smug expression twisted slightly.

"Woah, dude, how did you even find us?" he asked, whistling like it was all a joke.

The six others hiding behind the trees stepped out one by one, forming a loose circle around Azhriel.

But Azhriel didn't answer.

He just stared.

The air grew still. A soft breeze moved through the trees, and in that brief second, David caught a clear glimpse of Azhriel's eyes—deep, piercing, and calm as frozen lakes.

Arrogant.

David's frown deepened. He didn't like those eyes. Not one bit. They reminded him of someone—someone who looked at him the same way, like he was trash, like he didn't belong.

Someone, who was so weak that he could crush him in minutes yet he always watched him with the eyes that looked down on him.

Still, he didn't lash out right away. He had seen Azhriel fight. The guy was strong—maybe too strong. If anything, David wanted him in the group. Maybe later, he could crush that pride of his.

But then Azhriel spoke, a faint smile playing on his lips as he gave a low laugh.

"Wow, David. I didn't think you'd actually take the exam like everyone else."

David narrowed his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. "Also... do I even know you?"

Azhriel smiled a little wider, but the warmth never reached his eyes.

"Oh, you do. You know me goddamn well."

David stared at him, confused.

"Actually," Azhriel said, voice sharp with mockery, "I thought you'd just get in by begging your daddy. Using his position like always."

The other cadets glanced at each other. Whispers stirred. Everyone knew David's father was an instructor. Everyone knew David got away with things no one else could. Bullying. Stealing credits. Dodging punishment.

All protected by a name.

Azhriel knew it too. He had once lived under that shadow, powerless. A manaless nobody. No one had listened then. No one had cared.

But now? Now he had power. And he had no intention of letting David walk away without a beating.

David's eyes went dark, his mouth twitching into a sneer.

That was the final straw.

"You fucking bastard," he spat, his voice rising with rage. "Attack him! All of you! Now!"

And like a trigger being pulled, the battle began.

Azhriel ducked low, the blade slicing through the air just inches above his head. His movements were fluid, precise—no wasted motion. In the same breath, he flicked his wrist, and a cold shimmer ran along the ground.

A sharp spike of ice burst upward from the earth behind him.

The attacker's eyes widened. He twisted his body at the last second, trying to avoid it—but it was too late. The spike grazed past his side, then pierced clean through his stomach with a sickening crunch.

"Argh!" the cadet cried out, blood splattering onto the forest floor.

Azhriel didn't stop.

As the first cadet dropped to the ground with a groan, clutching his side in pain, Azhriel's feet were already moving. His eyes, cold and focused, scanned the others as they surrounded him.

Two came from his left, one with a heavy hammer and the other holding two short daggers. They weren't wasting time—they knew what Azhriel had just done, and they were scared, but they charged anyway.

The one with the hammer swung first. It was a wide, heavy blow, meant to crush him in one hit. But Azhriel stepped forward instead of back.

The hammer missed his shoulder by an inch and slammed into the ground, cracking the earth.

Azhriel raised his hand, ice forming around his palm. With a burst of mana, he sent a sharp shard flying into the attacker's chest.

The hammer-user gasped and stumbled back, eyes wide, before falling to his knees.

Azhriel didn't wait. The dagger-user was fast. Too fast to give him time to prepare a spell, but not fast enough to beat Azhriel's instincts.

The twin blades flashed toward him—one aiming for his ribs, the other for his neck.

He twisted sideways, the blade meant for his ribs slicing through the edge of his coat. But the other one—Azhriel raised his arm, and the dagger dug into it.

Blood sprayed out, but Azhriel didn't flinch.

Instead, with his other hand, he drove a solid punch straight into the attacker's face. There was a crack, and the cadet flew back, crashing into a tree and collapsing.

Three down.

The rest hesitated. Only David stood firm, teeth clenched, eyes full of fury.

David's mana flared. A greenish aura surrounded him as winds burst out from him flying the leaves and dust away.

"Don't just stand there! Kill him!" David shouted to the last three cadets.

They nodded, drawing their weapons. One was a wind user same as David, the other had lightning flickering along his arms. The last one had a large metal shield and axe—clearly a tank-type knight.

This time, they attacked together.

Wind shot forward as—sharp blades of air cut through the space in front of Azhriel. He jumped to the side, avoiding the first wave, but lightning followed.

The user's hands glowed bright as he released a bolt aimed straight at Azhriel.

The bolt struck—Azhriel raised a wall of ice, but it shattered under the force.

Smoke and steam filled the air for a moment.

"Did we get him?" the lightning user asked.

The answer also came fast.

From within the smoke, a figure dashed forward. Ice wrapped around Azhriel's arms as he reappeared, the mist trailing behind him like a cloak.

Azhriel didn't stop.

He went straight for the wind user first—kicking off the ground and sliding underneath the axe wielder's swing. He appeared right in front of the wind user and punched upward.

A sharp crunch of ice exploded from his fist as it connected with the cadet's chin.

The wind user flew backward, unconscious before he hit the ground.

The axe wielder charged next. He raised his heavy shield and stomped toward Azhriel, trying to pin him down.

But Azhriel placed his hand on the ground. Spikes of ice burst out in a circle around him, forcing the tank to stop or get impaled.

The moment of hesitation was enough.

Azhriel moved again, getting behind him with swift footwork, and sent a shard of ice straight at the back of his knee.

The cadet cried out, falling to the ground with a thud.

The lightning user tried to help, but Azhriel spun around and launched several small shards at him, fast like bullets.

The first few missed as the lightning user dodged, but one caught the cadet in the leg, another in the shoulder.

The fight was over for them.

Red flared, in six different places. A pillar of light followed.

+60.

Only David remained.

He was sweating, face pale as he saw the rest of his team getting defeated by a single man.

"You bastard," he spat. "Who are you?"

Azhriel slowly walked toward him, blood still dripping from the cut on his arm. He didn't bother healing it.

David growled and summoned more wind. The wind wrapped around his arms and legs as it swirled sharply.

Blades of wind snapped forward like whips, but Azhriel dodged, weaving between them. His foot slid forward, and he brought his arm up. A blade of cold formed in his hand, shining blue.

He slashed.

The wind armor broke apart like wet paper.

Azhriel pulled his hood down. David's eyes widened. His mind for a moment blanked.

"Huh, Azhriel?" He stumbled back, panic in his eyes. "What?, wait—!"

Azhriel didn't wait. He kicked David in the stomach. Hard.

David flew back and hit a tree hard, coughing up blood.

Silence filled the air for a moment.

Then a voice echoed through the arena, loud and shocked.

"D-Did you see that?! An unknown cadet just took down seven others alone!" the announcer shouted in disbelief.

Right after, loud cheering erupted from the crowd watching the battle from the academy's viewing area. Roars and applause thundered like a wave.

The fight was over.