Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he looked back at his core. The eerie, black mana had now settled within, its presence dominating the once-familiar space. The more he studied it, the more he realized how profoundly it had altered him.

Curious, Lucavion attempted to channel this energy into a technique he was familiar with, the [Black Blade of Iron].

It was a fundamental skill he had practiced for a year. But as he focused on summoning the familiar raw mana, he felt something strange.

Nothing happened.

The Black Mana inside his core refused to cooperate.

Instead of forming the solid, sharp blade he had mastered, the energy merely swirled chaotically, resisting his attempts to shape it.

It was as if the man had a will of his own, rejecting his efforts to control it in the usual way.

'No. It is not rejecting me. It is just the mana accumulation art of [Black Blade of Iron] can no longer be used.'

It was something that he could understand. After all, the [Black Blade of Iron] was an art that would utilize the raw mana that he stuffed into his core.

The mana that is formed in his core was no longer the same raw, attributeless mana that he would be using.

It was rather different.

The energy from the Shadow Stalker, as well as the energy from the [Serpent Flame Spear], were both attributed mana, and they were somehow mixed.

'It makes sense that I am unable to utilize it.'

In an easy way, the core that was formed by the [Black Blade of Iron] was now serving as a sanctuary for these two mana types to coexist together. Aside from that, there is nothing else that can be considered as the remnants of [Black Blade of Iron] as all of them were now overwritten.

'That brings us to the main problem. How am I going to draw this mana to effectively utilize it?'

Lucavion pondered, searching for an answer in the depths of his mind.

And then, something came to him.

'The [Serpent Flame Spear].'

His family's technique. He had tried to adapt it to his unique condition of reversed meridians, but he had not been able to practice it extensively. The technique was designed to harness the fierce, destructive power of fire mana, channeling it into a deadly spear of flame. But perhaps it could be the key to controlling this new, volatile mix of energies within his core.

Lucavion took a deep breath, and his decision was made. He would try to circulate the mana inside his meridians using the [Serpent Flame Spear] technique. It was a risky move, but it was the only idea that made sense in this situation.

He began by focusing on the mana in his core, willing it to move through his body in the pattern of the [Serpent Flame Spear]. The moment he attempted it, he felt the energies react. The cold, dark mana resisted while the fiery energy surged forward, eager to follow the familiar path. The clash between the two was immediate and intense.

"Argh!" Lucavion gasped as pain shot through his body. His veins felt like they were on fire, the conflicting energies burning him from the inside out. He gritted his teeth, trying to force the mana to obey, but it was like trying to mix oil and water. They simply wouldn't blend, and his body paid the price for it.

His vision blurred, and his limbs trembled under the strain. The pain was almost unbearable, and he could feel his control slipping.

HOWL!

He was on the verge of collapse when suddenly, a loud howl pierced the air, snapping him out of his trance.

Lucavion's eyes shot open, his senses immediately on high alert. The howl was close, too close, and it reminded him of the dire situation he was in. He was in the middle of hostile territory, wounded and vulnerable. This was not the time to be experimenting with dangerous techniques.

'I need to stop,' he realized, forcing himself to halt the circulation of the mana. The moment he did, the searing pain began to fade, leaving him gasping for breath, his body drenched in sweat.

'Don't get excited, Lucavion. They can still pursue you.'

He thought, looking at his own body. Thanks to his strength as a 3-star, his body was already recovering.

'Recover your mana and leave this place as soon as possible.'

And then he focused on mediating, recovering his strength.

********

The air was thick with tension as a group of men, their uniforms adorned with various insignias and medals, gathered around the lifeless body sprawled on the cold, cobblestone ground.

The night was silent, save for the distant murmurs of soldiers and the occasional crackle of a torch.

One of the officers, a tall man with graying hair and a stern expression, knelt down, examining the fatal wound that had ended the man's life. His gloved hand brushed against the blood-soaked fabric, and he frowned deeply.

"He is dead," the officer muttered, his voice low and filled with a mix of frustration and disbelief.

"Yeah, he is," replied another officer, a younger man with sharp features, his eyes fixed on the body. "Rykard didn't stand a chance. Whoever did this... they're not just some common soldier."

The older officer stood up, his gaze hardening as he turned to the guards standing a few paces away, their faces pale in the torchlight. "You there," he barked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Did you see his face?"

The guards, two young men barely out of their teens, stiffened at the question. One of them swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously between the officers.

"He was too fast, sir," the guard stammered, his voice trembling slightly. "It all happened so quickly… we could barely see him. Just a blur, and then he was gone."

"Too fast?" the older officer repeated, his tone sharp with incredulity. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he stared down the young guard. "You're telling me you didn't get even a glimpse of him? Not a single detail?"

The guard hesitated, glancing at his companion for support. The other guard nodded, equally nervous. "We're sorry, sir. We tried to keep up, but… it was like he vanished into thin air. One moment he was there, and the next… he wasn't."

The younger officer cursed under his breath, kicking at a loose stone in frustration. "Damn it! A 3-star warrior, maybe more, and we have nothing to go on? We're blind here!"

The older officer remained silent for a moment, his mind working furiously. He looked down at the body once more, a cold determination settling in his eyes. "This wasn't a random attack. Whoever did this knew what they were doing," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "That stab, and how he was blasted from inside… That technique was powerful. Too powerful."

The younger officer nodded, his expression troubled. "I wonder how we had a soldier like this in our camp. And how come such a strong soldier wasn't registered under a seal? He's a 3-star Awakened, that's certain."

"He must be hiding his strength," the older officer replied, though his tone was laced with uncertainty.

"Hiding his strength…" The younger officer trailed off, his gaze drifting back to the body on the ground. "That can indeed happen. But why? Being a 3-star, he would've gotten a good position inside the military. Why would he try to escape?"

"That's what I don't understand either," the older officer said, his voice edged with frustration. "And on top of that, he killed that bastard Rykard out of all the guards… The Count will be furious."

Suddenly, one of the soldiers standing at attention behind them stepped forward. His movements were hesitant as if he was unsure whether to speak or not. The officers noticed him, and the older one gestured for him to come closer.

"Speak up, soldier," the older officer commanded. "What is it?"

The soldier cleared his throat, his voice wavering slightly. "Sir… I saw something on his face."

The officers exchanged a quick glance before the younger one stepped closer, his curiosity piqued. "Something on his face?" he asked, leaning in with a frown.

The soldier nodded, his eyes darting nervously between the officers. "Yes, sir. There was a long vertical scar over his right eye."

At those words, the older officer's eyes widened slightly. He stiffened, his gaze snapping back to the corpse on the ground. Kneeling once more, he carefully examined the wound—a precise and thin stab, not from a normal sword. His mind raced, connecting the dots, and as he looked back up at the soldier, his expression grew more severe.

"A long vertical scar over the right eye…" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

The younger officer, sensing the shift in the older man's demeanor, asked, "Do you know who it might be, sir?"

The older officer slowly stood up, his face a mask of grim realization. "I have an idea," he said, his tone now carrying a heavy weight. "There's only one man I know who fits that description—a one-star Awakened who uses an estoc of all weapons."

He paused, letting the gravity of the situation sink in before he uttered the name that had come to mind.

"Lucavion."

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