The Game's Extra: Azhriel Odyssey

As soon as the trembling voice of the Merfolk General came through the earpiece, Kayden's expression changed.

It felt like something was wrong.

"Sir Kayden, I think you should really come and see this." The Merfolk Spoke.

Those words weren't spoken with urgency alone—they carried something else. A fear that seeped through the device like cold water.

Kayden's eyes narrowed sharply. He turned to glance at Vereshia beside him. The silver-haired woman caught the look instantly and gave a firm nod.

"Go," she said calmly, already pulling her sword back into position. "I'll hold the line here."

"I won't be long," Kayden said, fire beginning to spark around his boots.

With a blast, he shot into the sky like a comet, his figure wrapped in brilliant red and yellow flames.

The very air cracked and sizzled as he broke through clouds, his speed causing sonic booms behind him.

Each explosion launched him faster and farther.

He flew across miles of forest, over craggy mountains and desolate burned lands still smoking from the battle.

Every second counted. Every instinct inside him screamed that whatever the General saw—it wasn't just unusual.

It was dangerous.

Finally, he reached the southern coast—the border between land and the endless stretch of the South Sea.

Kayden slowed, coming to a hover high in the air.

And then he froze solid as he saw it.

His eyes widened, as his chest tightened. His heart pounding like a war drum in his ribs.

"Holy… fucking…" The words slipped out before he could stop them, barely a whisper, as his eyes locked onto the impossible sight before him.

It wasn't just a terrain. No, it wasn't even an island.

No—it was a whole continent.

And it was moving.

A colossal landmass, far too massive to measure, loomed across the blackened sea. It stretched far beyond the horizon.

Kayden couldn't even see its end. It moved slowly—impossibly slowly—but the weight of its presence was undeniable.

The whole five continents itself seemed to groan under its arrival.

And surrounding the landmass… was mist.

Dark, choking mist like a living shroud. Black fog rolled off its edges, swallowing everything in its path.

The ocean turned pitch-black wherever the mist touched, as if the very sea was dying beneath it.

Lightning flickered within the clouds above it, and strange sounds echoed out—low groans and screeches that didn't belong in any natural world.

Kayden didn't needed anyone to tell, what it was. He felt it deep in his core.

The Lost Continent.

It was really appearing after 28 years.

And it was moving toward them.

Still hundreds of miles away— But it was coming.

Kayden's hands clenched into fists.

The students had just started their semester they weren't ready for this.

His earpiece crackled again, and the voice of the Merfolk General returned—tense but more composed.

"Sir…"

Kayden's voice was calm, but it shook with power.

"We're going to need immediate assistance. Contact any available Archon in range. Tell them this is of utmost importance, what we have feared had shown. "

"Yes, sir."

Kayden didn't wait for the reply. He turned and shot back toward the battlefield with another boom of fire.

******

The wind outside the command tent blew gently, but the air inside felt heavy.

Eric Burns, the Archon of Flame and father of Alicia Burns, stood with arms folded, eyes narrowed deep in thought.

His dark red cloak rustled with the breeze, but his mind wasn't focused on the weather—it was on the continent that now moved like a ghost from forgotten legends.

Beside him stood Arson Windgale, the Archon of Wind. He was calm as always, a half-smile playing on his lips, though his eyes carried weight.

These two, feared and respected across all nations, had arrived almost two minutes later the call was sent.

They had directly gone to check on the black continent.

Kayden and Vereshia stood before them respectfully. Not kneeling, but with heads lightly bowed, as was proper when standing before Archons.

"No need for all that," Arson said casually, waving his hand. "We're not here to play royalty."

Eric didn't speak. His eyes were still distant, clearly turning through thoughts faster than most minds could follow.

Arson glanced sideways at him.

"Still thinking about it?"

Eric exhaled slowly. "Yes, i don't get it but it feels slower, than twenty eight years ago ."

Eric's voice came quiet but firm. "At the speed it's moving… six, maybe seven months at most before it reaches the southern borders."

Kayden's jaw tightened.

"And when it does?" Vereshia asked carefully.

Eric looked at her, then gave a slight shake of his head. "Once it touches land… we won't be able to stop what's going to start."

He paused before continuing.

"It's the beginning of a tide we can't push back."

Arson chuckled, but there was no joy in the sound.

"And it's such wonderful timing, isn't it? When the younger generation is just finding its footing. How frustrating."

The air turned colder.

Kayden and Vereshia stood silently. This was beyond their level now. But still, they listened carefully, knowing that decisions made here could shake the future.

Finally, Arson turned toward them.

"Well then, it's decided," he said. "Lord Kayden. Lady Vereshia. You've done your job nicely holding the southern lines. But, it's time for the Vice Principal to return to the academy."

Vereshia blinked. "Ah, okay."

Eric nodded. "Yes. It's time the academy begins full preparations. Inform Headmaster Alaric to return with the others. We'll need the entire council active."

"For the sake of this generation," Arson added. "They'll be the ones to inherit the war. We can only buy them time."

Both Kayden and Vereshia bowed this time—not just out of formality, but also with respect.

"Yes, sir," they said in unison, and with that, they stepped back and left the tent.

The flap closed behind them, and silence returned.

Outside, soldiers shouted, monsters howled, and steel clashed—but inside, only the soft rustle of wind could be heard.

"Hm," Arson murmured, stepping toward the open side of the tent. His eyes looked far toward the distant black fog on the southern sea's edge.

"It seems the pests are already starting to gather."

Eric, still watching the southern horizon, answered calmly.

"It's a given. Dirt always gathers near the most valuable."

********

Clang.

The sharp echo of metal striking metal rang in his ears. As a fight played out.

In the heart of that battlefield, surrounded by bloodied dirt and crumbling stone, stood two figures—locked in a desperate, dying fight.

A woman with flowing golden hair, her armor cracked and blood-soaked, swung her blade with ferocity born of love and duty.

Beside her, a man with white hair, taller and broader, cut through the enemies like a storm held together only by sheer will.

They fought back to back. Tireless. Unyielding.

Even though their bodies were breaking, their eyes never faltered.

But fate has no kindness for warriors.

From behind her, silent and swift—a blade pierced through the woman's back, sliding clean out her chest, covered in red.

"Mom—!"

Azhriel's eyes snapped open.

He sat up in bed, his breath coming in sharp gasps. Cold sweat rolled down his temple, soaking into his shirt. His heart thundered in his chest like a war drum.

"Haah… haa…"

His hand instinctively reached toward his temples. As a sharp pain bloomed in his head, spreading fast, pounding like someone had slammed it against stone over and over again.

His vision swam for a second.

It was another one of those nightmares. The kind that never faded with time. The kind that came with a feeling so real, that it left his body and mind sore long after.

"God…these nightmares…" Azhriel whispered, biting down his lip, as he tried to calm his ragged breath.

He fell back to the bed, as he endured the pain blankly staring at the white ceiling.

Thirty minutes passed—maybe more—before a knock on the door broke the silence.

Azhriel groaned softly, his body still a little sore, but he pushed himself up and walked over.

Click.

The door opened with a soft sound.

He paused.

Standing at the entrance was Solas.

His wore a calm and unreadable face. His hands tucked neatly behind his back. He looked Azhriel over once, silently, then spoke in his usual low tone.

"You've advanced."

Azhriel nodded. "Yeah. It happened recently."

Solas gave a slight nod, not surprised. "Good."

There was a small silence between them before Azhriel raised an eyebrow. "So? Is there something you need?"

Solas didn't beat around the bush. "Come with me. There's something important I need to teach you."

Azhriel tilted his head slightly. "Now?"

"It won't take long," Solas replied. "But it's better you learn this while the academy is quiet. As I will be going for some time."

His voice didn't allow much room for refusal.

Azhriel already knowing where Solas and the other Archons are going nodded. "Alright. Let me grab my coat."

Solas waited quietly as Azhriel pulled on his outer robe, his boots, and followed him into the empty hallway.

The sun hadn't risen fully yet. The corridors were quiet, with only the soft echo of their footsteps filling the silence.