Path of the Extra

There was something Azriel had been thinking about for a while.

His future self—now dead—had said something that lingered in Azriel's mind ever since. Well, there were a lot of things he had said that stuck with him… but one, in particular, refused to fade.

That Azriel was supposed to be saved by Joaquin on that day, instead of being sent to the Void Realm.

That this world was more than just a book he had read.

That the book followed him—no matter what—making his arrival in this world inevitable.

No matter what he did, it was as if it had always been his fate to come here.

And yet, that very book was something unknown. Even the gods themselves didn't seem to know what it was.

Even the gods themselves didn't seem to know how Azriel had arrived in this world, calling him an anomaly.

Something else had brought him here.

At the very least, it was something—or someone—capable of hiding from the God of Time and the Goddess of Death.

Ynoth. A word. An era.

But what did the Goddess of Death mean?

…The Goddess of Death, who was apparently missing.

Azriel had a theory about the book.

That the book was not a book at all.

But a timeline.

A timeline where Azriel was never supposed to exist.

But then… what happened to the original Azriel? The one in the book? The one in that timeline?

Did he get sent to the Void Realm as well? Somewhere else? Another realm entirely?

Or was it even the original Azriel to begin with?

Was it truly the original timeline, or just one where another future self had interfered?

And if that Azriel had interfered… why hadn't he made it back?

Did he die?

Or… was there something else?

It was only a theory, of course.

Well, part of his theory.

His conversations with the God of Time and Xian Feng had only reinforced his suspicions—confirming things he had already considered and shifting the way he thought about certain others.

It changed what he was planning to do.

And it made Azriel realize something else.

How utterly fucked he was.

…And that was simply depressing.

That realization lingered as Azriel slowly walked toward the sound of battle.

Celestina and the others must have been there.

He had already made up his mind.

Even if it cost him his friendship with Celestina—if it meant she would become stronger, then so be it.

The God of Time must have thought the same thing.

He wanted Azriel to play that role as well.

The role of a villain—one that would force those around him to grow stronger.

It was a bit like Vergil in the book.

And Xian Feng.

…No. Xian Feng was simply a villain.

Azriel, playing the role of a villain—walking through the academy while everyone else watched, powerless to stop him.

It would push them.

But now…

Now, he had started to think about something else.

Not just them. Not just Celestina.

But himself.

Jasmine.

His family.

Everyone he cared about.

Azriel was stuck.

And with that realization came another one.

A single word.

Freedom.

That was all he wanted.

A future where he could live as he pleased.

Where he could see the end on his own terms.

The curse—or perhaps, the blessing—bestowed by the Goddess of Death would have to be broken.

He wanted to be happy.

With those he loved.

With those who were left to love him.

To be free from the gods.

From fate itself.

He was grateful that the God of Time hadn't tried to read his mind.

Or maybe he had—and just hadn't dug deep enough.

Perhaps because he thought that Azriel was thinking just like him.

Hence, giving him [Villain's Script].

Azriel was grateful for that.

Because if his theory was correct…

It would bring him one step closer to being free.

And for that—

Azriel had to fool everyone—even the gods.

No matter the cost.

*****

It happened the moment the entire floor collapsed—rubble and stone crashing down, burying everyone alive.

Celestina and the others were lucky.

Sir Henrik's wind affinity had softened most of the debris, cushioning their fall. He had even shielded Celestina with his own body—just in case.

But it wasn't until they climbed out of the wreckage that they truly realized just how lucky they were.

Lucky to be alive.

The Grade 3 Abyssal was not just a storm of bones.

The floating mana core had never really been floating at all.

They had all been fooled.

It had been using an ability—hiding its real body all along. The only thing it had ever shown them was its mana core.

Which meant…

The real body had been in front of them the entire time.

And when the floor collapsed—when the wreckage finally settled—it revealed itself.

A void creature.

Humanoid in shape, draped in black robes, its face a decayed skull with hollow black eyes.

But that wasn't what shocked them most.

It was what stood on top of that void creature.

Azriel.

And the Black-Antlered King.

The Grade 3 Abyssal had been standing exactly where they had fallen. And when the rubble came crashing down, the Abyssal's true body—weak and fragile—had been caught beneath it all.

They had been crushed.

Naturally, Celestina and the others were stunned.

Shocked.

And at the same time… relieved.

Azriel was alive.

But it was only then—when they finally got a good look at him—that they realized just how horrible his condition was.

His body was mangled beyond recognition.

His face, almost unrecognizable.

And then—

They felt it.

The entire flow of mana in the air shifting—pulling toward him.

A vortex of mana spiraled around him, drawing in an overwhelming amount of energy.

Their eyes widened.

Because something like this—this kind of phenomenon—could only mean one thing.

Azriel's mana core was leveling up.

He was ascending.

He was about to become Grade 3 Advanced.

But there was no time to process that.

Because at that moment—

The Grade 3 Abyssal stood up—

—and ran for its life.

They had no choice.

They had to chase after it.

Leaving Azriel behind was the only option.

After all… no one could interfere when someone was undergoing a mana core evolution.

Not even if they wanted to.

The dome's structure was shattered—dozens of pathways broken apart as they pursued the Grade 3 Abyssal through the ruins.

But it was barely hanging on.

Most of its bones were gone—

Crushed.

Broken beneath the rubble.

All that remained were a few intact ones, its last remaining weapons.

And yet—even then—despite everything, despite the disadvantage it was at—

It was still deadly.

And their battle…

Was anything but easy.