The Game's Extra: Azhriel Odyssey-Chapter 39: The Entrance Exam-1.

Days slipped by like whispers in the wind.

Now, Azhriel stood before the colossal black gates of the academy, etched with ancient runes that shimmered faintly with magic. They pulsed like the heartbeat of something far older, far grander than the stones they adorned.

A breeze brushed past him, stirring his cloak as he gazed upward at the vastness beyond the threshold. A strange feeling settled in his chest—faint, familiar, and distant.

Nostalgia.

The Academy of Eldoria.

Even now, standing on the cusp of it again, he couldn’t help but admit—it looked more like a sovereign empire than any mere institution.

Towers pierced the skies like spears of marble and crystal, mana-infused rail lines stretched through floating platforms, and the great barrier around the academy shimmered under layered enchantments—wards so complex that most mages wouldn’t understand them even in a lifetime.

And that wasn’t even the core of it.

The Academy grounds alone were massive, housing dozens of specialized districts, research towers, elemental fields, coliseums, and enchanted forests.

But beyond that, the city surrounding the Academy—Academia Prima—was larger than most capitals. It was said even on the fastest beast, it would take ten full days just to circle its outer perimeter.

A city within a fortress, a fortress within a sanctuary.

The birthplace of many legends.

Now, the gathering place of the Golden Generation.

He exhaled, a long breath that misted in the crisp morning air, his eyes lingering on the vast cityscape one last time.

The sky above was clear, painted in hues of soft blue and white, the sun just beginning to climb its way up.

Below it, the academy city stretched endlessly, teeming with magic, ambition, and the weight of a thousand dreams.

And now, he was part of it.

Without another word, Azhriel turned and walked toward the gathering—no, the huddle—of new students. Dozens had already assembled outside the colossal gates, excitement and nerves thick in the air.

Some wore noble emblems with pride. Others kept their heads low, dressed in plain clothes with sharpened eyes. There were humans, elves, beastkin, dwarves, and even rarer folk—each one a future prodigy, or a doomed star.

Then—creak—boom!

The ancient gates of Eldoria stirred.

They groaned open, slow and majestic, their runes flashing brighter as the enchantments shifted.

A surge of awe ran through the crowd as the heavy doors parted fully, revealing the long crystal pathway that led them into the Academy proper which was lined with silver trees, soaring archways, and distant artifacts floating in the air like anchored stars.

And just like that, the future had begun.

The students stepped forward. Some hesitated. Others surged ahead.

Azhriel walked calmly among them, his expression unreadable.

There were no nerves. No excitement.

Only one thought echoed in his mind, cold and certain—

"Welcome... to the hell."

The others around him chattered with anticipation, wide-eyed at the grandeur of floating towers and sky-piercing spires, at the living statues guarding the roads and the ethereal music humming faintly through the air. But for him, it was different.

He didn’t see wonder.

He saw a battlefield veiled in black and red.

A stage for monsters wearing youthful faces, olderly skins and more.

However for now, they were safe.

******"

The entrance exam of the Academy was split into two main parts—one of theory, and one of combat.

The theory part was just as it sounded—a written exam filled with questions about magic, combat strategy, history, and runes. But the combat test... that was what separated the dreamers from the capable.

Azhriel sat quietly among the crowd of students, his number tag resting neatly in his hand. Through the crowd he had seen some familiar old faces, however he didn’t disturb them.

Thousands of students had come with their utmost preparation to pass the exam. Some with nerves, some with pride—but most just filled with tension of the unknown.

Soon, his number was called. He stood and walked toward the exam hall.

The room was silent. The air was heavy, the kind that demanded focus. Rows of seats stretched across the hall, each one occupied by students already deep into their concentration.

At the front stood a professor—stern, eyes sharp behind his glasses, not missing a single movement.

Azhriel sat on the seat allocated to him.

"You all have two hours to write the exam," the man said in a flat, strict voice. "Anyone who takes even a second more will be failed."

The instructor’s voice was calm, but carried the weight of finality. No second chances. No exceptions.

The desk was a smooth slab of stone, etched faintly with mana-resistant runes to perhaps prevent cheating.

A white sheet shimmered into place before him, letters and symbols glowing faintly on its surface — the theoretical exam had begun.

He glanced around.

Some students seeing the question appeared confident, already beginning to scribble, however some had their faces pale with tension. Others also hesitated, chewing on their quills, eyes darting as panic settled in.

The silence of the room was almost oppressive, broken only by the soft rustle of parchment and the faint ticking of a magical hourglass placed at the front of the hall.

Azhriel leaned back for a moment, scanning the questions.

Mana structure formations, elemental stability principles, magical law theory, rune decryption, and even basic enchantment logic.

Each question though basic was designed, not to test only memorization, but understanding. It wasn’t enough to know—one had to think, to reason with brain itself.

He picked up his pen.

With a steady breath, he began writing. His hand moved in precise, calm strokes, not hurried, not slow—like someone solving a puzzle he’d seen before but from a slightly different angle.

The minutes passed, the silence deepened, but for Azhriel, it didn’t matter.

This was the easy part.

Tick.

Ring.

The hourglass on the professor’s desk chimed softly, its last grain of golden sand falling through the neck. The time was up.

Without hesitation, Azhriel set his pen down. His eyes scanned over the sheet one final time—not with anxiety, but quiet assurance. The answers, written in neat, clear strokes, reflected the time he had spent in game.

’Top fifty... should be no problem.’ he thought calmly.

With a flick of the instructor’s hand, the exam papers shimmered faintly and rose into the air like a flock of well-trained birds.

They hovered momentarily, then flew toward the desk, landing in a perfect, organized stack with not a single page out of place.

The instructor gave a small nod. "You may leave."

Azhriel stood up, pushing his chair in neatly. With quiet steps, he exited the room.

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