The Game's Extra: Azhriel Odyssey-Chapter 123: To The Brink-2

Three figures sat around a round table draped in red velvet. The air inside the room was heavier than the hall—thick, almost suffocating.

Azhriel’s eyes flicked across the room once, taking in every detail.

In the middle sat Kerip, broad-shouldered and calm, his light red eyes glowing faintly beneath the chandelier’s light.

His slicked-back hair and cold expression made him look composed, but Azhriel could see it—the subtle twitch in his fingers, the faint trace of dark energy leaking from his skin.

He was very annoyed right now.

On either side of him sat the other two, Oluk and Ensuv.

Their faces were duller, their gazes restless, but Azhriel knew better. They weren’t ordinary men. All three of them were demons in disguise.

And the moment he stepped into that room, he felt it.

The air pressed against his skin, like invisible needles pricking every nerve. His instincts screamed. His bloodline pulsed faintly beneath his skin, reacting to the powerful foreign energy in the air.

Azhriel had faced monsters before, but this—this was different.

The pressure was suffocating. The mana leaking from Kerip alone felt like standing before a storm ready to burst. His every breath carried weight, and even the smallest movement of his finger could crush a weaker opponent.

Azhriel didn’t need to fight him to know the truth.

If Kerip wanted, he could kill him in an instant.

As everyone knew, demons never saw humans as equals.

To them, humans were nothing more than insects—fragile creatures meant to be toyed with, crushed, and discarded. Their arrogance was carved into their very blood.

And Azhriel could tell that clearly.

The way they looked at him, the flicker of disdain in their eyes—it was all too familiar.

He also realized something else. He had walked into the wrong room at the wrong time.

Kerip’s expression was cold, his eyes sharp, and there was an edge in the air that made even breathing heavy.

The demon was furious after losing the bid, and though he wasn’t showing it outright, Azhriel could sense the simmering rage behind that calm face.

The only reason Azhriel was still standing, the only reason his disguise wasn’t torn apart yet, was because Kerip didn’t want to cause a scene during the auction by killing a servant.

Keeping his expression neutral, Azhriel walked inside slowly, balancing the tray with practiced ease.

He approached the center table and placed the glasses down beside an ornate incense burner that released soft, sweet-smelling vapors into the air.

The light mist curled faintly around the room, masking his subtle magic traces.

"But we didn’t order anything," Oluk said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the tray, then at the supposed waiter.

Kerip and Ensuv didn’t seem to care much at first.

To them, he was just another servant doing his job. But Oluk’s instincts had always been sharper than most, and something about the boy in front of him felt slightly... off.

"Oh, sir," Azhriel replied with a polite smile. "It’s a complementary service for our honored VIP guests. A token of gratitude from the auction house. Please, enjoy it."

His tone was perfectly calm, perfectly normal. Not a hint of hesitation.

Oluk studied him, still unsure. "I see... though where’s the other one? The waiter who was here before you. We were planning to tip him for his service. Right, my lord?" he said, glancing toward Kerip.

Kerip caught on to Oluk’s tone and decided to play along. "Yes. He was good at his job," Kerip said, his gaze now shifting slightly toward Azhriel.

Azhriel’s smile didn’t falter. His black eyes remained placid, showing no flicker of tension.

"Ah, I’m sorry, sir. His shift for this lounge ended a short while ago. But if you’d like, I can call him back."

There was not a single crack in his act—no nervous twitch, no sudden movement. Just the perfect composure of a trained attendant.

Oluk went silent for a moment before shaking his head. "No, it’s fine. We’ll just tip him later after the auction ends."

"Understood," Azhriel said, bowing again before turning to leave. "Then, please enjoy your evening, gentlemen."

The door closed softly behind him.

Inside the lounge, Kerip finally turned to Oluk, his crimson eyes narrowing. "Why did you ask him that? You noticed something suspicious?"

Oluk’s brows furrowed. "I’m... not sure, my lord."

Kerip leaned forward slightly. "Not sure? What do you mean?"

Oluk hesitated before speaking again.

"My lord, your mana... it’s heavy right now. Anyone normal standing in front of you should have at least flinched. That waiter didn’t even blink. He looked... calm. Too calm."

Kerip’s gaze shifted slowly to the tray of untouched drinks on the table. The glasses glimmered faintly under the chandelier’s light. "So you’re saying something’s off," he muttered.

"Yes, my lord," Oluk replied. "Something about him wasn’t right."

Kerip leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "Fine. We’ll check it later. Don’t drink or eat anything from that tray until the auction’s done."

"Uh..."

A sound broke the tense air. Both of them turned at once—only to see Ensuv, looking pale, holding an empty glass in his hand.

The faint scent of the incense seemed stronger now.

"Idiot," Kerip and Oluk said in unison, their voices cold and sharp.

Ensuv blinked, confused. "W-what? I was just eating."

Oluk and Kerip didn’t say anything for a moment.

They just looked at him silently, as if waiting for something to happen. The air grew heavier, the faint sound of the incense burner filling the quiet room.

Finally, Oluk spoke. "Do you feel anything strange? Dizzy? Nauseous?" he asked, his tone cautious.

Ensuv frowned, glancing down at his empty glass. "No... I feel perfectly fine," he said, clenching his hands to check his strength.

Kerip’s crimson eyes narrowed, a faint trace of killing intent leaking from him.

"Let’s hope that stays the case," he murmured, his gaze shifting toward the gate from where Azhriel had left.

Meanwhile outside Azhriel moved back towards the washroom and returned to the main cast.