Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Instead of answering directly, the old man posed a different question. "You were unable to gather mana into your core, weren't you? Even though you are the son of a viscount, and your family was given a unique-grade Mana Accumulation Art, you couldn't gather any type of mana, could you?"

I froze, his words cutting deeper than any blade. How did he know about my struggles with mana? My failure to live up to my family's legacy was a wound I kept hidden, a source of shame and frustration.

I clenched my fists around the spear, my voice a low growl. "How do you know about that?"

The old man's gaze was steady, unyielding. "I have seen many in my time, boy. I can recognize the signs of someone who has faced the same struggle. You carry it in your posture, in the way you push yourself beyond your limits, hoping to overcome a hurdle that seems insurmountable."

I looked away, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "What does it matter? I've trained harder than anyone, but nothing changes."

"It matters because you're trying to fight a battle you can't win by normal means," he replied softly.

I could not understand. What did he mean by "by normal means"? What was that supposed to mean?

It is not like there is any other thing in this world.

The old man looked at the weapon in my hands, his gaze lingering on the long spear.

"Spear is not a weapon for you to use," he said, his voice calm but firm.

I narrowed my eyes, a surge of frustration bubbling up. "What does that mean?"

The old man looked into my eyes, his expression unwavering. "Your body is not suited to use a spear."

I narrowed my eyes, frustration bubbling up inside me. "What does that mean?"

Instead of answering directly, the old man posed another question. "Have you ever felt like there are certain movements that you can do better than others?"

I frowned, his words stirring memories from my past. I thought back to the times when my body seemed to flow more naturally when I instinctively moved in ways that felt right. During those moments, I developed a peculiar style of wielding the spear, incorporating fluid and unpredictable movements. It was weird, and others commented on it a lot of times.

Many times, they said that I was fighting a lot differently compared to them.

"Yes," I replied after a moment, nodding slowly. "There have been times when I felt like I could move better, more naturally."

The old man nodded, his eyes reflecting a knowing look. "Of course, that is the case. Because your body was reacting to the specific types of movements, and you subconsciously noticed that while moving as well."

I looked at him, my curiosity piqued. "So what if that's the case? Which weapon is my body suited for then?"

The old man smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. "Ah, that is a question only you can answer. Think about it. For which movements do you feel the most comfortable when doing them?"

I closed my eyes, searching my memories. I tried to recall the times when I felt most at ease, most in sync with my body. Moments during training when everything seemed to click, and my movements were smooth and effortless.

As I delved deeper into my thoughts, a picture began to form in my mind. I saw myself moving fluidly, my body shifting seamlessly from one stance to another.

My hands and arms moved with grace, executing precise and controlled motions.

I imagined myself in the middle of a fight, my body twisting and turning with agility. My strikes were swift and accurate, each movement calculated and intentional. The image in my mind was clear, and without realizing it, I began to move, mimicking the motions I envisioned.

The old man watched me with a knowing smile, his eyes following my movements. He said nothing, allowing me to immerse myself in the exercise.

As I continued, I felt a sense of familiarity wash over me. These movements felt natural, almost instinctual. My body seemed to remember each step, each strike as if it had been doing this all along.

I stopped and opened my eyes, breathing heavily. "I felt it," I said, a note of wonder in my voice. "I could see the movements in my mind, and my body just followed."

Even if my hands held a spear, my body did not move according to it.

A spear was a weapon that focused mainly on stabbing, designed for long reach and powerful thrusts. The essence of the spear was in its directness, its ability to keep an opponent at a distance and strike with precision.

My movements, however, were different. They were fluid, adaptive, and close-range. The spear felt like an extension of myself, but it did not align with the natural flow of my body.

My strikes were not just about reaching out and piercing through; they involved intricate maneuvers, swift changes in direction, and a blend of offense and defense that seemed more suited to a weapon requiring agility and finesse.

I looked at the old man, seeking confirmation. "The spear's essence is in its stabbing, its reach. But my movements... they aren't just about thrusting forward. They are about flowing, adapting, and moving with precision and grace."

The old man nodded, his eyes twinkling with approval. "Exactly. The spear, while powerful and noble, does not align with your natural way of fighting. Your movements are more suited to a weapon that allows for close combat, agility, and precision."

I considered his words, the image of my fluid movements still fresh in my mind. "But what weapon is that? What fits with these movements?"

The old man smiled enigmatically. "Think about the weapons that require such fluidity and precision. Which weapon allows for both offense and defense and thrives on the user's ability to adapt and react swiftly?"

I closed my eyes again, picturing the movements. I imagined a weapon that complemented my style, one that allowed for quick, decisive strikes and seamless transitions. My body twisted and turned, blocking and attacking with equal finesse.

A dagger felt closer to what the old man was hinting at, but even that didn't seem to capture the full scope of my movements. It felt like there was something more, something that required both hands to truly express the fluidity and precision I envisioned.

Slowly, an image began to form in my mind. A weapon that was balanced, capable of both offense and defense, allowing for swift, controlled strikes, and fluid movements.

The weapon was not overly long like a spear but not as short as a dagger.

It was something that did not demand both hands to be wielded effectively as a spear, yet at the same time, something that allowed for a dance of attacks and parries.

A sword.

Not short.

Not long.

A simple, basic sword.

I opened my eyes, a realization dawning upon me. The old man watched me intently, waiting for me to speak.

"A sword," I said slowly, testing the word.

"Indeed." The old man's smile widened, and he nodded approvingly. "Your movements, your instincts, they align with the essence of the sword."

I frowned, still not fully understanding. "But why? Why is my body suited for a sword and not anything else?"

The old man pointed towards my body, specifically to my dantian. "It's because of the same reason you cannot accumulate any mana into your core."

His words hung in the air, and I felt a surge of impatience. I looked at him, waiting for him to speak, but he did not say anything.

'This old man!'

It was so frustrating, to the extent that I wanted to punch him in the face. Well, that may have been an exaggeration, but I was angry, at least.

Thus, I decided to speak.

"What do you mean? Why can't I accumulate mana? What does this have to do with my weapon?"

The old man smiled at my frustration, clearly anticipating my reaction. He paused, letting the silence stretch before finally speaking.

"It is because of your unique body constitution."

He spoke, raising his fingers. From the tip of it, something appeared.

A bunch of characters formed by mana.

"You have what is known as the Physique of the Requiverse."

I blinked, confusion flooding my mind. "The Physique of the Requiverse? What does that mean? I've never heard of it before."

Even in the novel, there was no such thing. Though, it was not like the novel was focused on these physiques. While being a revenge story, Shattered Innocence's main focus was romance fantasy, after all.

The old man's smile widened, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "It's because all those who had this physique died."

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