The Game's Extra:Azhrael's Odyssey

The moonlight shone brightly in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the peaks of the vast, snow-laden mountain.

It was an enchantingly beautiful scene, a stark contrast to the bloody spectacle unfolding at the foot of the mountain.

Two shadows streaked past a massive, snow-covered tree with immense speed, shaking loose the snow from its branches.

As they raced through the frozen landscape, a group of black-hooded men in full body armor emerged from the shadows, blocking their path.

The gleam of their weapons was sharp, radiating intense killing intent as a myriad of elemental auras enveloped their blades. In a heartbeat, they launched their attack on the fleeing duo.

Yet, the two figures didn't halt, nor did they glance at their pursuers. One of them, a man, simply waved his hand, and the attackers' magic and auras vanished in an instant.

The elite assassins, hardened by rigorous training, faltered, shocked for just a millisecond. But that moment of hesitation sealed their fate.

Frozen spikes erupted from the ground, piercing through their bodies, as a blue magic circle shimmered in the man's hand, leaving no one standing.

Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the man was moving despite grievous injuries. Severe cuts marred his body, a gaping hole marked his abdomen, and his chest bore the wound of a piercing blow. Blood flowed like a river, yet the man pressed on, undeterred by his mortal wounds.

As they ran, multiple immensely powerful auras descended in front them, forcing the couple to a sudden halt.

In front of them stood a lean man with blonde hair and piercing green eyes as he smirked maliciously, his gaze fixed on the bloodied pair. "Leaving without a proper farewell, Xavian? That's hardly polite,you know " he sneered, his tone dripping with mockery.

The moonlight shifted, casting its silver glow on the faces of the man and woman. The man, tall and imposing, had pure white hair cascading to his shoulders, gleaming like freshly fallen snow.

His sharp, chiseled features were striking, his grey eyes glowing with an icy intensity. He was a dangerously captivating figure.

Beside him, the woman stood, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Despite her pallor and obvious struggle to stay upright, her beauty remained undeniable. She was without a doubt the most beautiful one here.

Her golden locks cascaded like liquid sunlight, each strand shimmering softly in the moonlight. High cheekbones framed her delicate features, her small nose adding to her graceful visage.

Her pink lips, even in her weakened state, were enough to quicken the pulse of any man who looked upon her. Her curvaceous figure and mesmerizing azure eyes held an enchanting allure that few could resist.

Despite the precautions they had taken, the men before them couldn't help but steal lingering glances at her unable to resist her charm.

Xavian's gaze, however, remained fixed on the blonde man, his eyes cold and brimming with anger and hatred.

If looks could kill, the man would have perished a hundred times over. Yet, Xavian did not dignify him with a response.

Instead, Xavian's focus shifted to another figure among the group. This man, sharing the same snow-white hair as Xavian, stood silently, his crimson eyes gleaming with a mysterious intensity.

Though his features were sharp and handsome, his presence paled in comparison to Xavian's commanding aura.

The blonde man, noticing the shift in attention, felt his jaw tighten as his anger simmered beneath the surface.

His pride bristled at being ignored, but he chose to remain silent, a malicious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. After all, victory was already within his grasp.

Without a word, Xavian's simmering rage was directed at the crimson-eyed man, his silent fury speaking volumes.

"Why did you do it?" Xavian asked, his voice thick with grief and betrayal. The question hung in the air, laden with years of trust shattered in a single moment.

His mind couldn't fathom how his own flesh and blood, his brother, who had been with him since the beginning could have done something so vile.

His chest tightened as he looked at his brother, the only family he had left. They were supposed to be a united front, facing the world together.

To think that this man, who had been by his side all these years, could betray him like this—it was a wound deeper than any physical pain and he couldn't accept it. His mind was telling him he was betrayed however his heart.. it was telling him otherwise.

But in his rage and sorrow, Xavian didn't notice the subtle twitch of his brother's body, nor the brief tremor in his crimson eyes. The briefest flicker of hesitation, as though something was amiss, but it was gone in an instant.

Xavian asked again, more desperately this time, his words cutting through the tense silence, "Why?" His eyes searched his brother's face, hoping for some shred of an explanation, some reason for the betrayal before he would be forced to make this final, inevitable strike.

But in reality, the truth of the situation was already clear to him. He and his wife were trapped. Their strength had been drained to the very limits. They were already weakened, standing on the precipice of death. There was no way out of this.

Xavian had spent twenty-two days in relentless battle against demons and dark mages. Though he had emerged victorious every time, barely tiring from the onslaught, the mental stress was still there.

Due to his mental stress and being off guard at his home. He was now facing the cold reality of his situation as the poisoned wound on his chest burned giving him an intense agony.

He had returned to his pregnant wife, expecting to find her safe, protected by his brother and his wife. But instead, he found betrayal waiting for him at the doorstep of his sanctuary.

The weight of it crushed him. His once unshakable trust in his brother had been nothing but a lie. And now, standing here in the moonlit night, it seemed their fate was sealed.

They were at their last ropes.

Breaking through his turbulent thoughts, Xavian felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. Turning his head slightly, his gaze landed on his wife.

Her face was as pale as freshly fallen snow, her strength visibly waning as if every ounce of vitality had been drained from her.

Yet, despite her fragile state, her eyes still held a spark of determination that refused to be extinguished.

"Don't lose yourself so much, my dear," she said softly, her voice a whisper yet firm. "That you fail to notice the signs of manipulation around him."