Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Her head was filled with thoughts as she approached the grand arena, its towering structure looming over the city like a fortress.

What was he implying with his talk of masks, and of people who manipulated others' vulnerabilities? She had left their exchange feeling more exposed than she was comfortable admitting.

Stepping inside, she was greeted by the stark scent of dust and adrenaline filling the arena corridors. As she navigated the winding passageways, her gaze fixed on the glow of the preparation area, she noticed several other fighters already deep in their routines, focused and intent. Her own mind sharpened, shaking off the remnants of yesterday's confusion. She would channel all her focus into today's match, using the clarity her early morning training had granted her.

Just as she was about to settle herself near the entrance to the coliseum, she felt an all-too-familiar presence beside her.

"Well, you seem very much in your element today," came Lucavion's voice, disturbingly close.

She shot him a sideways glance, her expression hardening into a glare as she resisted the urge to sigh. "Did you come to gloat, or do you simply lack anywhere else to be?"

He smirked, unperturbed. "You wound me, truly. I'm merely here to support you, of course."

"Hmm…."

Valeria's expression remained guarded, but inwardly, she couldn't help but feel the tension of his presence—an edge she hadn't felt moments before. There was something about Lucavion's insistent shadow that pushed her focus tighter, her resolve sharper. Despite herself, she allowed his presence to linger.

"When's your match?" she asked finally, her tone casual, though she felt a strange flicker of curiosity.

"Oh, it's already done," he replied with a shrug, adjusting the collar of his coat as though his victory were an everyday affair.

She paused mid-step, a brief flash of surprise crossing her face. She realized with a pang of annoyance that she hadn't thought to ask him, and hadn't even looked at the tournament schedule for his matches. How was it that he always seemed to be there for hers?

"You could have told me," she murmured, half to herself, eyes narrowing as she recalled how she had assumed he'd be waiting until later to compete.

Lucavion's gaze sharpened slightly, though his mouth twitched for little. His expression slightly faltered, though Valeria did not notice it.

However, in an instant, he took control of it again and then smiled teasingly.

"Ah… I should have told you the time of my duel, shouldn't I? You could've had the honor of watching me—maybe even picked up a few pointers."

Hearing his response, Valeria felt a prick of awareness at her own thoughts.

Why had she said that?

The realization settled in, and, despite her best efforts, a faint blush crept over her cheeks.

"You!" She shot him a glare, though the heat rising in her face made it feel less convincing. "You arrogant bastard."

Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel, striding away from him with brisk, determined steps, as if to outpace her own embarrassment. She could sense his gaze on her back, the faintest ripple of amusement lingering in the air behind her. But she didn't dare look back—she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

The cool corridors of the arena, bustling with activity and focused intent, provided the perfect cover. Yet, as she moved further into the preparations area, her heartbeat with a sharper rhythm, his words echoing despite her attempts to shake them off.

Had she really expected him to tell her about his match?

The thought lingered stubbornly, much as she hated to admit it.

*******

Lucavion remained where she'd left him, just outside the arched entryway, half shrouded in the cool, late afternoon shadows.

The faintest breeze tousled a strand of his hair, catching on the cloak he wore, as he let his gaze linger in the direction Valeria had vanished. He'd seen the flush on her face, that brief moment when her pride had slipped just enough to reveal her, and he'd savored it.

There was always something satisfying in catching her off-guard, in finding the chinks in that carefully forged armor she wore so tightly around herself.

He exhaled, an amused chuckle escaping him, hand drifting to his chest where his heartbeat had quickened without his permission.

"That face just now…" He murmured to himself, tilting his head slightly, lips curving in a grin that was both pleased and amused. "Might have made my heart skip a beat."

Letting the thought linger in his mind, he couldn't help but wonder just how deep he could push her next time, how close he could get her to that edge of impatience where her walls faltered.

Lucavion shook his head to himself, the faint grin slipping into something more reserved as he glanced toward the arena's outer courtyard. 'While it's fun,' he thought, brushing a gloved hand over his mouth as though to conceal his expression, 'it's getting a bit harder to keep this face.'

The thought lingered with him as he made his way outside, moving through the bustling crowd until he reached the front rail, where he could watch her match with a clear view. He settled against it, gaze sharp, fixed on the archway where she'd soon appear. The arena hummed with anticipation, the voices and footfalls merging in a familiar din that only half-registered to him. His attention was already singular, anchored in one figure.

He still remembered her first duel. She'd fought formally, every step and swing calculated, crisp, and executed with the precision of her training. But each strike back then had lacked something.

Since then, though, something had shifted. He could sense it in her sword.

'Though faint, she is changing.'

And this change was a good sign. Since, if she were to get stronger, maybe the fate that awaited her in the novel could change?

'If you want to overcome it, you better get strong faster, Lady Knight….'

Just as Lucavion's thoughts drifted to that future—the one looming like a dark, unwelcome specter—Valeria stepped into the arena, her stride carrying the poise and intent of a seasoned warrior. Her pale pink hair cascaded down onto her shoulders, shifting like silk as she moved. She held her sword with practiced ease, her grip firm, the blade gleaming under the afternoon light.

Across the ring, her opponent took his position. He was a tall man, his figure lean but sturdy, and in his hands, he wielded a spear, the polished wood and metal catching glints of light.

He twirled it with a flourish before leveling its sharp, glinting tip toward her.

The contrast between the two combatants was striking.

From his vantage point, Lucavion could see the faint tension in Valeria's posture. Her shoulders were held a touch too high, her stance a shade too tight. It was subtle, but telling—she was still adjusting to the eyes of the crowd, an audience she didn't quite know how to ignore.

Despite the fact that the stands weren't focused on her alone, with other matches drawing scattered cheers and gasps across the arena, some attention inevitably drifted to her. The kind of attention that followed beauty, especially one that bore itself with such visible strength.

And she

was

beautiful, he noted, his gaze sweeping over her again as if to confirm it. There was something striking about the contrast between her delicate features and the cold, glinting steel in her hands, the set determination in her jaw.

It was the kind of image that would inspire respect—or envy.

Then he noticed her gaze shift, scanning the crowd in that quick, nervous way she'd done the day before. He kept his expression neutral and casually leaned against the rail, though his attention was fixed entirely on her.

And as her gaze found him, he saw it—a subtle shift as she held his eyes, the faintest easing in her shoulders, the tension rolling off her with something close to relief.

He let an arrogant smirk play across his face, arms crossed, watching her with a faint look of indulgence, like an audience of one. It was almost enough to make him laugh at her readiness to let her guard down at the mere sight of him. But he held back, the thought settling into silent amusement as she turned back to face her opponent, more grounded, her sword poised with renewed focus.

'Well….Though this kind of development is not good in the long run, for her who is doing this for the first time, she should be given at least this much leverage, shouldn't she? Or else, she may just break.'

Knowing how it felt to be in front of an audience like this and having seen countless youngsters break down on stage as Bruce, Lucavion was familiar with this feeling.

'Well, show them how it needs to be done, Lady Knight. I really am quite expectant of you.'