The Game's Extra: Azhriel Odyssey-Chapter 47: The Battle Royale-1

Azhriel’s eyes fluttered open.

Sharp and clear.

His hand rested on the hilt of Frost Born, already drawn the moment he had been dropped into the battlefield. The cold blade hummed faintly at his side, sensing its master’s intent.

He scanned the area in silence.

A river flowed steadily beside him, the water clear, soft ripples dancing over its surface.

Around him stood scattered trees—tall and sparse, their roots half exposed as if torn by time, their leaves catching glints of sunlight as it filtered down in slivers.

The wind moved gently, brushing against the grass and bending the tall weeds. It wasn’t thick woodland. Not quite a forest.

It was open. Wide.

A place meant for battle.

Crackle.

Azhriel’s body dropped low in an instant—his instincts taking over before his mind could even process.

Zzzt!

A flash of purple lightning whistled through the space his head had occupied a heartbeat ago. It tore past him and slammed into the tree ahead.

The bark blackened, cracked open with trails of smoking cinders, the arrow embedded deep into the trunk like a spear of thunder. freeweɓnøvel~com

He turned his head sharply, eyes narrowed.

He looked in the direction from where the arrow came, however no one came in sight.

His senses stretched outward, scanning the field, the air, the flow of mana—but there was nothing. Whoever had taken the shot had already hide into the terrain.

"Quite a skilled archer, eh," he muttered under his breath.

Swiftly, he moved—no longer staying in the open. Between the trees, he ducked and weaved, knowing well this open ground favored his enemy.

Arrows charged with lightning, moves with even greater speed. And from the angle and strength of the shot, the enemy was probably positioned high.

The terrain was simply not in his favor.

He would like to change that.

---

Far off, high above on the branch of a tall tree, nestled in shadows and leaves, a lone figure crouched low.

Her viridian-blue hair flickered in the light like pure diamonds —striking and yet calm. Her eyes, a brilliant blend of same as her hair, held the sharp clarity of a hawk locked onto prey.

She looked way too beautiful.

"...He dodged?" she whispered, brows drawing close in faint shock.

Her voice was soft, almost melodic. A strange contrast to the force she had just unleashed.

She reached for another arrow, fingers swift—

But paused.

The boy below had moved. Faster than expected. Slipping into the cover of the woods, cutting her line of sight.

She narrowed her gaze.

"This might get interesting."

*****

Azhriel disappeared into the woods, each step quiet, deliberate.

Azhriel wasn’t avoiding the fight—he was making a decision.

Strategy over impulse.

That archer, whoever they were, was good. Good enough to shoot from cover, use elemental magic to increase speed and power, and hide presence like a shadow. But it wasn’t worth it—not yet.

Spending energy and precious time chasing someone who wouldn’t yield many points in the beginning was foolish. If this had been the final hour, maybe he’d have acted differently.

But right now?

He had to move. Find others. Collect points. Conserve strength.

His hand relaxed on Frost Born, mist still curling faintly around him as he moved past old roots and thorn-covered shrubs.

The forest grew darker the deeper he went. The trees stood closer, their branches thick, letting only a little sunlight through. Somewhere not too far, sounds of fighting echoed—sharp and quick.

Azhriel didn’t slow down. His gaze stayed sharp, his mana steady.

He followed the noise and soon found the source—two students locked in a fight. They noticed him just as he stepped closer.

"Mind if I join?" Azhriel asked, his voice sounding cold.

The two fighters looked at each other, then at him. They didn’t say anything.

They just attacked.

*******

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the arena was nothing short of electric. Giant screens floated high above, displaying scenes from across the battlefield—some students clashing in fierce duels, others moving silently through the wild terrain.

But all eyes were drawn to the central screen.

"This is it, ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer’s voice echoed across the stands, excitement pulsing in every word. "Are we finally about to witness the battle that’s been the talk of the continent?!"

A roar exploded from the crowd, cheers and chants rising like a wave.

"The clash between the two strongest candidates of this year’s entrance exam—one bearing the light of the noble Duchy of Dawnlight, the other from the feared Duchy of Umbravane!" the announcer called out.

On the screen, two figures closed the distance between them.

Raymond.

Samuel.

The moment hung still for only a breath—then Samuel moved.

Dark mana coiled around his arm like smoke, writhing with violent energy as he lunged forward. His fist cut through the air, aiming straight for Raymond’s jaw.

But Raymond was faster. With a sharp breath, he tilted his head just in time, the blow grazing past him.

In the same fluid motion, Raymond spun, his leg snapping out in a clean arc toward Samuel’s ribs.

Samuel raised his other arm, catching the kick with a solid block. The force sent a small shockwave through the ground beneath them.

Neither backed away.

Neither smiled.

It was the fight between the protagonist and his sole rival.

Raymond didn’t hesitate. His hand stretched forward, light gathering in a blink into a glowing sphere—the air around it raising in temperature under the heat and brilliance. With a sharp motion, he released it.

The ball of light surged forward, blazing like a falling star.

Samuel didn’t flinch. He raised his hand, and a dark purple shield formed instantly before him, swirling with shadows. It met the light head-on.

The impact echoed.

For a second, the shield held firm—but then, cracks formed. Thin lines of gold pierced through the darkness like veins of fire.

And with a sharp crack, the shield shattered. However it did it work already. The ball of light was gone.

Both stared at each other. They stood still, then it was Raymond who spoke.

"Let’s stop the fight."

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