The Game's Extra: Azhriel Odyssey-Chapter 46: Battle Royale.

"You have changed."

The words drifted on the wind, quiet but firm.

Azhriel didn’t need to turn. He recognized the voice instantly. Still kneeling at the grave, he answered, voice flat and distant—nothing like the warmth he had spoken with moments ago.

"Is that so."

Footsteps approached, steady and unhurried. Then the man appeared beside him, tall and composed. He didn’t say anything at first—just sat down next to the boy in silence.

"You’ve got a new look in your eyes," Alaric finally said, his gaze resting not on Azhriel, but on the grave ahead. "Like you’ve found something. A reason. A path."

"Maybe I have," Azhriel said simply.

There was a brief pause between them. The breeze stirred the grass and leaves.

"So," Azhriel asked, "did you know?"

Alaric was quiet for a beat. Then he replied.

"You mean—did I know you were Cassandra’s son?"

Azhriel gave the smallest nod.

"I knew it. From the beginning," Alaric said, voice gentler than before.

"I see... thank you for making her grave," Azhriel replied, his voice softer now, tinged with quiet gratitude that came from the heart.

"It’s the least I could do for my student," Alaric said, the words carrying weight, old memories reflected in his eyes.

After that, they sat in silence.

But it wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful—like even the wind knew not to speak. Just the two of them, side by side, beneath the wide sky, next to a grave that meant the world.

Then Azhriel rose. He pulled down his hood, covering his face fully from the sunlight.

"I should get going," he said. "The trial will start soon."

With that, he turned and started walking toward the Academy.

Alaric’s voice followed him from behind. "You should meet Elizabeth. She’s been worried about you like crazy."

"I will," Azhriel said, without looking back.

Alaric watched him go, the faintest smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, like mother like son," he muttered with a sigh, the wind carrying his words into the distance.

*****

Azhriel’s steps were steady as he moved toward the main arena.

The structure loomed before him—massive, like a crown of white and gold carved into the land. Its marble walls glistened under the sun, and white stone laced the floor like raging rivers.

Even, before entering he could listen it. The cheers, the roars, the thunder of thousands echoed like a tide, vibrating through the stone. It was alive, pulsing with expectation.

The entrance exam was more than a test. It was a spectacle. It was broadcasted to every continent, to every major city and small kingdom. A reminder to the world—this was where the next generation leaders were born.

He kept his hood low, blending into the line of examinees flowing through the obsidian arches. He slipped in with the crowd, boots clicking softly against the polished floor.

No solo entrance. No unnecessary attention. His steps were just another among hundreds.

But his eyes—sharp and watchful—moved with quiet precision.

He scanned the arena.

The competitors stood clustered in groups. Some radiated nervousness, others excitement. Then there were those who were already drawing the eyes of the crowd.

He saw them, the prodigies.

Chloe Warrens, stood poised like a noble sun, her presence calm and commanding. Her pale-blonde hair shimmered like wheat fields in light, her gaze steady.

Alicia Burns, she stood like a silent flame. Her red-orange hair mirrored the fire in her eyes—confident but measured. Every movement she made was composed, practiced.

He spotted them—Raymond, Samuel, Kevin—each among the crowd, standing tall with the confidence of youth and talent.

But Azhriel didn’t just see them. He observed.

The way Raymond rested his hand on the hilt of his dagger—always ready.

The way Samuel tapped his foot, slightly impatient, yet focused.

Kevin, ever smiling, but eyes always scanning—reading the room.

It wasn’t about raw strength.

It was about control.

Precision.

Intent.

This arena, dressed like a ceremony, was nothing short of a battlefield wrapped in celebration.

Azhriel’s expression didn’t change, but under the shadow of his hood, his eyes gleamed with quiet fire.

Then—he felt it.

A gaze. Firm. Heavy. Commanding.

He looked up.

In the high VIP section, Solas sat silently. His eyes met Azhriel’s with a single message—unspoken, but clear.

Do what you were told.

Azhriel’s gaze didn’t waver. He nodded once, ever so slightly.

I will.

And then—he saw her.

Sitting beside Solas, was the Fairy Archon.

Her beauty was like moonlight wrapped in stardust, and her presence serene yet impossible to ignore. She watched the students with quiet grace.

But as if sensing his gaze, she turned.

Their gazes met.

Azhriel didn’t flinch.

There was no fear, no hesitation.

Instead, with calm respect, he bowed his head slightly.

Then, it came—like a ripple through the sky.

A wave of slight pressure, faint but undeniable, descended from above. It washed over the colosseum, quieting the thunderous cheers of the crowd.

Every student, every instructor, every pair of eyes turned upward.

There, standing high above, his long coat and beard fluttering in the wind, was Alaric.

He raised his hand and spoke—his voice carried by mana, deep and clear.

"Dear examinees," he began, his tone calm yet commanding,

"I will keep this short and simple."

A pause. A hush.

"The final trial of your entrance exam..."

His gaze swept across the arena.

"Will be a Battle Royale."

The words dropped like a stone in still water.

Tension spiked in the air.

Some students straightened, others clenched their fists.

Azhriel remained still.

Not surprised.

Not shaken.

Just ready.

High above, Alaric continued, his voice sharp and steady like a drawn blade.

"These are the rules," he said, not bothering to overcomplicate.

"You will be placed on an island for the next five hours."

A faint buzz spread through the students at the word island.

"In that time, collect as many points from the other cadets as you can. Win fights. Take points. Survive."

His words echoed off the stone walls of the arena.

"Oh, you can also team up. Maybe, it will help so.e of you young folks."

A pause.

"And no one will die, of course—but fight as if you could."

With that a magic circle flared up on the ground cadets were standing on.

The trial’s till now were just to lessen the unworthy.

The real battle begins now.

Snap.

And with a snap, they were all gone.

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