The Game's Extra: Azhriel Odyssey-Chapter 41: Cute.

Azhriel—always the embodiment of calm, collected composure—was caught off guard, completely disarmed.

Not just by her beauty, though that alone could make statues weep.

But by the simple, surreal realization that he was meeting her—the girl he’d liked, that he had only seen through a screen, pixelated and distant, now real and radiant, standing just a breath away.

Vidallia tilted her head, the motion graceful, playful. Her smile widened just a little, teasing.

"Hehe, are you really that entranced by your senior’s beauty?" she said, placing a hand lightly against her chest, feigning modesty. "But you know... staring is rude."

Cough.

Azhriel blinked, jolted out of his daze.

’Ah, damn.’

He cleared his throat, looking away quickly. "Sorry."

Across the room, the instructors and professors merely smiled, exchanging knowing glances and shaking their heads slightly.

As if this—this scene of stunned awe—was simply routine when Vidallia De Astra was involved.

"It’s fine, it’s fine," Vidallia said, waving her hand dismissively, her smile never fading. "Let’s not waste any more time. Let’s start your trial."

Azhriel tilted his head slightly. "What is it?" he asked, though he already knew what it was.

"Oh, it’s really nothing much." She raised her hand forward, her fingers glowing softly with magic. "You just have to walk forward and touch my hand. That’s all."

Her words were too casual.

"Hmm," he muttered, his brow lifting. "What’s the catch?"

Vidallia let out a playful hum, her eyes shimmering like stardust.

"Hehe, you’ll see."

"Fine," he sighed.

Step.

The moment his foot touched the ground, his heartbeat spiked. His breath caught in his throat, and an invisible weight pressed down on his shoulders. It was like being dropped into ice water—sharp, jarring, and suffocating.

A strange sensation crawled beneath his skin, like thousands of ants burrowing through his veins. Every instinct inside him screamed one thing—

Danger.

He looked at her—Vidallia—still smiling sweetly, hand extended like nothing was happening.

But it was.

Killing Intent.

She was releasing killing intent. Refined, cold, and coiled like a serpent around his body. It wasn’t wild or reckless like the beasts in Mistwood. No, this was precise—too precise.

’So this is the killing intent of a ranked second year, huh...’ Azhriel thought, his eyes narrowing. ’No wonder only the top ten are allowed to assist the professors. And she is ranked first in them too.’

The intent didn’t just weigh down on him—it slithered through his mind, wrapped around his chest, and pressed against his will. It wasn’t trying to kill him.

It was trying to break him. To make him kneel.

But he didn’t stop. He clenched his fists. Raised his eyes. And took the next step forward.

He knew there were two ways to face killing intent.

First, release your own. Let it flood from your core like a shield, a protective layer that countered the opponent’s malice.

If your killing intent was sharper, stronger, more refined—it would push theirs back, maybe even shatter it completely.

If not, it would still dull the pressure. A buffer between your soul and the weight pressing down on it.

Second...

Endure.

Take it all.

No shield, no release. Just grit your teeth and survive it.

The hard way.

Azhriel’s hand twitched, mana stirring in his chest. He was about to push back—to let his killing intent flare like a sword drawn from its scabbard—

When her voice rang out.

"Uh-uhh. You can’t do that," Vidallia said sweetly, like a teacher catching a naughty child. "You have to endure it."

Her smile didn’t waver, but the pressure increased.

Azhriel’s eyes narrowed.

This was the second trial.

He exhaled slowly, straightened his back, and silenced the roar in his body.

No tricks.

No defenses.

Just will.

He took another step.

The pressure spiked again—like a vice twisting tighter around his ribs. His skin crawled, as if invisible thorns were burrowing into his flesh. Each breath came heavier than the last.

Another step.

It felt like his chest would cave in. His lungs burned. His heartbeat thudded in his ears like a war drum.

Another.

His legs felt like they were weighed down by stone. As if every joint was rusted, every muscle protesting in agony.

Only three steps remained.

His fingers clenched into fists so tight, blood welled from his palms, dripping silently onto the floor.

Two.

He bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The pain grounded him, barely keeping the dizziness at bay.

One.

With a hard breath, he forced himself forward, not with strength—but sheer will. He pushed his body, his mind, his pain—all of it.

And then—

He touched her hand.

It was soft. Small. Delicate—like porcelain warmed by sunlight. But Azhriel was far too winded, too drained, to notice. He simply stood there, gasping, chest rising and falling like he’d outrun a storm.

Ring.

A chime echoed through the room, signaling the trial’s end.

But for Vidallia...

The moment his hand met hers, everything stilled.

Calm.

The weight of her own pressure melted away. A calmness, gentle and pure, washed over her like a flood.

Her mind... cleared.

Her smile faltered—not out of displeasure, but surprise. It was an addicting feeling.

Peace.

That was the only word she could find for what he gave her.

Both stood there in silence, the moment lingering like a delicate thread stretched thin.

Azhriel, still catching his breath moments ago, was the first to recover. His chest slowed, eyes regaining their usual calm. He glanced at the hand still holding his, then shifted his gaze up to her dazed face.

He couldn’t get, why she was like that but he wouldn’t leave a chance.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I don’t mind you holding my hand," he said smoothly, his voice light but teasing. "But I don’t think it’d be good for your image. You know how rumors work—they only need a spark."

His words echoed same like the first time he met her, only now with the roles reversed. He was composed, while she was caught off guard.

"H-huh?" Vidallia blinked, finally snapping from her daze. A stutter escaped her lips as her eyes widened in realization.

A subtle blush crept across her cheeks. She hastily pulled her hand back, flustered, trying to hide the faint color blooming on her face.

’Cute.’

Which Azhriel only thought of as even more cute.

"I-I was just making sure you didn’t pass out, that’s all," she muttered, turning slightly away.

Azhriel chuckled faintly but said nothing more. This was enough for the first time.

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