Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Lothar's heart sank. This was it. The last hope of escape, of survival, had been dashed. The very men he had relied on to escape and warn Korvan had been caught—no, hunted down—and dragged back like prey.

The young man turned his gaze back to Lothar, his expression unchanging. "Now," he said, taking a step forward and raising his estoc once more. "I believe we can now start talking with our blades, no?"

Lothar's eyes flickered with renewed determination, the fear and desperation momentarily replaced by a savage resolve.

He would not go down without a fight. His pride, his strength, his reputation—none of it would allow him to simply lie down and die.

With a guttural roar, Lothar surged forward, his body suddenly invigorated. The wound in his side that had drained his strength moments ago began to seal itself, his internal mana surging to accelerate his healing. His body mended with unnatural speed, and he knew this moment of surprise would be his best—and perhaps last—chance.

Most people wouldn't expect such rapid recovery. Most would think him too weak, too wounded, to launch a full attack. But Lothar was going to show this bastard his true strength. His axe, heavy and menacing, flared to life as it became engulfed in flames, the bright red-orange mana coating the blade with a crackling intensity.

The [Art] he had trained for years, the Flame Cleaver, roared to life, his fiery mana spiraling around him in a blazing aura. Heat radiated from his body as he channeled everything into his next strike. The flames danced along the length of his axe, growing brighter and fiercer with each step he took toward the young man.

"I'LL BURN YOU ALIVE!" Lothar bellowed, his voice filled with both rage and determination. His muscles tensed, and with all his strength, he swung the blazing axe toward the young man, the air sizzling from the sheer heat and force of the strike.

The flames leaped from the blade in an arc, a wave of fiery mana streaking toward the young man, intent on consuming him.

But the young man… merely watched.

With a calm, almost amused expression, he observed Lothar's desperate attack, the fire closing in fast. At the very last second, the young man's body moved. In a single fluid motion, his estoc glinted with that ominous black starlight once more. His eyes, glowing with purple energy, tracked every movement of the incoming flames.

"Void Starfall Blade. Starline."

CLANG!

The estoc met the flaming axe, but instead of being consumed by the fire, it cut through the blazing energy with terrifying ease.

The force of Lothar's strike was deflected, the flames dispersing harmlessly as the young man's sword cut through the wave of heat like it was nothing more than air.

Lothar's eyes widened in disbelief as his full-powered attack was rendered meaningless. But before he could even process it, the young man struck back.

SWISH!

With a lightning-fast strike, the young man's estoc slashed through the air, meeting Lothar's body with such precision and speed that the bandit leader had no time to react. The blade cut through his flesh, piercing deep into his chest.

「Void Starfall Blade. Eclipse Star Trail」

Lothar gasped as the young man's estoc pierced through his chest with unnerving precision, the blade sinking deep into his flesh. For a brief moment, pain surged through his body, but his instincts kicked in, and he forced himself to keep moving.

'This won't be enough to take me down,' Lothar thought grimly, gritting his teeth as he mustered his strength. As a 3-star Awakened, his body had been tempered through countless battles. His physical resilience was something he prided himself on, capable of enduring hits like this multiple times.

A twisted grin spread across his face as he felt the fire still surging through his veins, his axe glowing with the mana that fed his flames. "You think this is enough to stop me?" he growled, his eyes wild with desperation. He raised his hand, preparing to unleash the hidden spell he had kept up his sleeve for moments like this—his final gambit.

BOOM!

An explosion of fire erupted around him, flames scorching the air in a violent burst. The heat roared outward, consuming the space between him and the young man, creating a wall of destruction.

But something was wrong.

Lothar's grin faltered as he felt a sudden, unnatural pull from within. The mana in his body—his own energy—wasn't responding as it should. His flames flickered erratically, and instead of surging with power, his mana began to churn, spinning out of control. He coughed, his body shaking as his mana refused to follow his commands. Panic set in as he realized that something was horribly wrong.

His core—his mana core—was going berserk.

The flames he had summoned sputtered and died out, leaving him standing in a pool of failure and agony. He stumbled, his hand clutching at his chest as the sensation of his mana spiraling out of control grew stronger. It was as if the very core of his being was tearing itself apart.

The young man watched with an eerie calm, his eyes glowing with that same purple energy. He took a step closer, his blade still glistening with the ominous black starlight, and met Lothar's gaze, his expression unreadable.

"You can feel it, can't you?" the young man said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "The instability. Your core is about to explode."

Lothar's eyes widened in horror as he gasped for breath, his body trembling. His mana was spiraling, going wild inside him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The young man's voice was cold and precise as he continued, his gaze unwavering. "If you want to stop this, there's only one way."

Lothar tried to speak, but his voice came out in a ragged, desperate croak. He could feel the pressure building inside him, his core on the verge of shattering.

"Tell me the location of your main base," the young man said, his words sharp and cutting. "Though I can find it myself, I'd rather save the trouble. Do that, and I'll stop your core from going berserk."

Lothar's face contorted into a smirk, his lips twitching with bitter amusement despite the agony coursing through his body. He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth as he struggled to speak. "Do you... think I'm a fool?" he rasped, his voice weak but laced with defiance. "You're not... promising to save me.

Just to stop my core from exploding. Which means... you'll kill me the moment I tell you... where the base is."

The young man's expression didn't change, but there was a slight flicker of amusement in his eyes. He nodded calmly, acknowledging the truth in Lothar's words. "Of course," he replied with a smile. "Isn't that the sort of strategy you bandits often employ? I figured I'd try it once, see how it felt."

Lothar let out a weak, gurgling laugh, the sound hollow and strained as blood dripped from his lips. He spat on the ground, his smirk still intact despite the growing horror of his situation. "Go to hell... you bastard," he spat, his voice defiant even in his last moments.

The young man tilted his head slightly, a faint, almost disappointed sigh escaping his lips. "I suppose that's your answer then," he said quietly, shaking his head as he took a step back.

Without another word, the pressure inside Lothar's body reached its breaking point. His core, unable to contain the wildly spiraling mana, gave way.

BOOM!

Lothar's insides exploded in a violent eruption of energy, his body convulsing as the force tore through him from the inside out. Blood sprayed from his mouth and nose as his limbs jerked uncontrollably, the violent release of mana sending shockwaves through his body. His eyes widened in one final, silent scream before everything went dark.

His body collapsed to the ground, lifeless, the remnants of the explosion still shimmering faintly around him.

The young man stood over the corpse, his expression calm and indifferent. He sheathed his estoc, his gaze lingering on Lothar's remains for only a moment before turning away. "Such a waste," he muttered under his breath. Vitaliara padded up beside him, her eyes glinting in the dim light as she let out a soft purr.

"Looks like I'll have to work a little bit more." With that, the young man turned to face the remaining bandits, who were now staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. Their faces were pale, and they stood frozen in place, trembling as they processed what had just happened to Lothar. The room was thick with the stench of blood and death, and the weight of their impending doom pressed down on them.

The young man's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, cold amusement. He crossed his arms casually as if completely unbothered by the carnage around him.

"Well then," he said, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of menace, "it seems we've come to a bit of a crossroads, haven't we?"

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking over the terrified faces of the bandits. "I'll make this simple," he continued, his tone almost conversational. "Those who choose to speak and tell me what I want to know—well, at least you'll have the dignity of a proper burial."

His smirk widened, and he gestured casually toward Lothar's lifeless body, still twitching from the aftermath of the explosion. "As for those who choose to stay silent… well, you'll end up just like him."

The bandits' eyes darted toward Lothar's remains, a collective shudder running through them. The sight of their leader's twisted, blood-soaked corpse sent chills down their spines. They had seen death before—caused it, even—but nothing like this. The silence stretched, and the young man let it linger, savoring their fear.

"So," he said, his voice sharp and cutting, "who's going to speak first? You have ten seconds."

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