The Game's Extra: Azhriel Odyssey-Chapter 40: The Entrance Exam-2.

Unlike the written exam, the combat test was something else entirely—ever-changing and unpredictable.

Some year it was one-on-one duels. Other times, battle royales or monster-slaying challenges. But this year, Azhriel knew... it would be different.

There were three trials, this year.

Power.

Will.

Combat and Survival.

Each designed to test not just strength, but spirit, and the will to push through harsh paths.

After the theory exam, orders came quickly. All students were directed to the Training Dome. Azhriel didn’t wait for the announcements to finish. He already knew the place well—its layout, its secrets.

He walked swiftly through the city-like academy, passing towers, floating gardens, and spiraling runes that shimmered in the sky. Eventually, the Dome appeared on the horizon, massive and glinting in the sunlight.

The White Crystal Dome.

It rose like a giant pearl, its surface seamless, catching the sunlight and scattering it into rainbows. Four massive gates were set up, each forming a line of waiting students.

Azhriel didn’t wait much. He bypassed the second gate, even though it had the shortest line. Instead, he moved to the third.

Was there a reason?.

Yes, a pretty big one.

She would be here.

His favourite character in the game.

Inside, the dome was like a cathedral of battle. Dozens of elevated fighting podiums floated across the vast space, bound by mana circuits and hovering platforms.

Weapons of every kind lined the sides—swords, spears, bows, axes. On another wall stood mechanical training dummies, rune-bound and glowing with quiet menace. Near them, advanced simulation pods—VR units for testing spells and tactics.

The hum of magic swelled slightly, like a breath being drawn in.

Azhriel stepped forward as his number was called, his boots making no sound on the polished white crystal beneath.

The open area stretched ahead of him—circular, wide, and surrounded by faintly glowing white walls of mana that isolated the arena from the rest of the dome.

Students gathered around the edges, some watching with interest, others too nervous about their own upcoming trials to care.

Instructors and examiners observed from elevated platforms, some holding tablets, others watching through enchanted lenses.

A cold voice echoed from above, laced with no emotion—only command.

"Power Evaluation—Begin."

As if responding to the words, a wide circle lit up beneath Azhriel’s feet. Complex magical patterns spun to life, forming a glowing array, while a golden column of light shimmered ahead.

Before him, a single armored dummy stood tall—enchanted, reinforced, unyielding to anything below high-tier magic.

Azhriel moved without a word.

His body dipped low, one hand resting calmly on the hilt of his sword. The air around him chilled subtly, as frost crept along the sheath, white mist curling from its edges. His breath remained steady.

And then—

Slash.

A gleam of light trailed behind his blade, almost too fast to follow. A thin arc of ice shot out like a blade of winter itself, whistling through the air.

The moment it touched the dummy—

BOOM.

A burst of frigid wind tore through the air, sweeping across the arena. Mana surged like a silent blizzard as the dummy’s arm was cleaved clean off, the exposed cut instantly frosting over.

The ice spread like wildfire—coating metal, seizing joints—until the icy bloom reached its neck and froze it mid-motion.

For a moment, silence lingered.

Then the magical voice echoed once more:

"Evaluation: Exceptional Grade."

Some students blinked. Others flinched as the temperature dipped unnaturally. A few examiners whispered among themselves, their gazes sharper now.

Azhriel simply stepped back. His expression didn’t shift, not even slightly.

That hadn’t been his strongest attack.

But he was a disciple of an Archon.

And even his restraint had to make a statement.

"You passed. Wait for a moment—you will be teleported directly to your next trial," the instructor said as he descended from the viewing platform, his voice curt but acknowledging.

Azhriel gave a slight nod. On the surface, he remained the same—calm, unreadable, detached. But deep within, something stirred. A quiet thrill pulsed through his veins. It had been a long time since he felt that spark—genuine excitement.

Moments passed.

Then, the magic circle beneath his feet flared once more, bathing him in runes of violet and white. A faint humming filled the air as mana pulsed around him like a heartbeat. Azhriel felt the magic tug—gentle but firm.

In the blink of an eye, he vanished.

During the teleportation, something strange occurred.

It didn’t feel rough or disorienting. Instead, the space around him felt... warm. Soothing, almost. Like a familiar embrace—welcoming him, recognizing him.

But it lasted only a moment.

The comfort snapped away like a thread cut loose, and the next instant, his feet touched solid ground.

He opened his eyes.

He now stood in a vast room—dimly lit, silent, and boundless. The air pressed in around him, dense with unfamiliar magic. It was as if the space itself breathed slowly, waiting.

Then, unexpectedly, a voice rang out—soft, lighthearted, bubbly completely at odds with the weight of the chamber.

"So you’re next, huh?"

The sudden sound broke the silence like sunlight through a clouded sky. Azhriel turned instinctively—and stopped just to be starstruck.

For a full second, he didn’t breathe.

He didn’t even blink.

His thoughts, usually sharp and composed, scattered like autumn leaves in wind.

One word anchored them all.

Gorgeous.

Utterly Pure Gorgeous.

The girl stood with a relaxed posture, hands behind her back, swaying ever so slightly as if the tense atmosphere didn’t affect her in the slightest.

Her hair was a cascade of deep magenta, falling past her waist like liquid starlight, shimmering faintly with each movement.

Those long strands caught the light, glowing faintly as if kissed by galaxies. But it was her eyes...gods those—twin stars shaped like blossoms of magenta light—that caught him the hardest. Star-shaped pupils, unusual and mesmerizing, glowed gently in the dim room.

Her skin was smooth, like polished moonstone. Her face was sharp and yet sweet, high cheekbones balanced by a delicate jawline. A gentle smile played at her lips—teasing, innocent, and infectious.

Vidallia De Astra.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel