Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

The moment Lucavion uttered the name

Shrouded Whisper

, the entire inn fell into an eerie silence. Conversations ceased, and every eye turned to them, expressions flickering between surprise, suspicion, and even a hint of fear. The change in atmosphere was as swift as it was absolute, the once-gruff murmurs replaced by an almost palpable tension that hung thick in the air.

Valeria glanced around, trying to make sense of the sudden shift, but the name was unfamiliar to her.

Shrouded Whisper

—the words sounded ominous, cloaked in a secrecy that seemed to ripple through every corner of the room. Whatever it was, it wasn't a name she'd ever heard before, and she felt an uncomfortable prickling along her spine. It was as if Lucavion had spoken a code she didn't understand, an invitation into a world to which she didn't belong.

'What does that even mean?

' she thought, frustration bubbling beneath her confusion. She felt a sense of alienation here, a growing awareness that this wasn't just any gathering place. Her hand instinctively tightened near her sword, her pulse quickening as she observed the faces around them, each one a silent witness to something she couldn't grasp.

The scarred man's sneer faded, replaced by a wary scowl. He hesitated, his gaze flicking between Lucavion and the rest of the inn as if weighing his options. He opened his mouth, but it took him a moment to speak, the earlier confidence replaced by a tinge of uncertainty.

"What do you mean by Shrouded Whisper?"

"What do I mean?"

Valeria's senses sharpened, catching the low murmur of voices, and the subtle shift in the crowd's stance. She could feel the hostility thickening, a coiled readiness in the air that made it clear: they wouldn't be leaving this place in peace.

Not that it bothered her. If anything, the rising tension brought her a strange calm. Facing threats was part of her duty, and she'd never shied away from conflict when it was necessary. Her grip tightened on her sword, her gaze flitting around, assessing each of the men surrounding them.

"I meant what I said, but people like you tend to understand things in a different way."

–SWOOSH! SPURT!

But before she could prepare herself further, a flash of movement burst before her eyes. She barely registered the swiftness of it when a hot, red spray filled the air. Her eyes widened, and she instinctively turned towards the source, her gaze falling upon the scarred man as he crumpled, a gaping, clean hole in his neck.

For a heartbeat, the room was frozen. Then, an outraged roar shattered the silence. "You! BASTARD!" Another man's voice cut through, laced with raw fury, and the already tense crowd surged forward, bloodlust gleaming in their eyes.

Valeria didn't hesitate. Her sword was out in an instant, her stance shifting to brace herself as she cast a quick, stunned glance at Lucavion. He stood there, calm and composed, blood still dripping from his blade, his expression unreadable but steady, as if this was all part of his plan.

"Lucavion," she hissed, but he didn't look her way. Instead, he gave a short, sharp command.

"Get ready, Valeria. Things are about to get messy."

The moment she heard Lucavion's command, Valeria scoffed, feeling a reluctant surge of energy rise within her. She had no idea what he had gotten them into, but now that their blades were drawn and the crowd was closing in with clear intent, there was no backing down.

Her grip tightened around her sword, her expression settling into one of controlled focus

. 'I don't know what game you're playing here, Lucavion,

' she thought bitterly,

'but I won't be some fool just dragged along.'

The thug closest to her lunged forward, his blade flashing in the dim light. With practiced ease, Valeria sidestepped his attack, bringing her sword down in a fluid, powerful arc.

The thug staggered back, clutching his wounded arm, and she heard Lucavion chuckle beside her, unfazed as he deflected another attack with graceful precision.

"Try to keep up," he muttered, sidestepping as his own opponent charged, only to meet Lucavion's swift, calculated strike.

Valeria huffed, eyeing the small band of thugs as they began to circle them. "Just like you to drag me into this mess without warning," she muttered, her voice edged with irritation as she deflected another blow. She had to admit, though, that these weren't exactly formidable opponents; their moves were rough, wild, and lacking any real strategy. It was as if these men relied solely on brute strength rather than skill.

Valeria felt her pulse quicken, though she hardly registered her body's readiness. Their surroundings crackled with dark energy, alive with the presence of so many ready to fight—and she knew this was no training ground, no controlled skirmish. Each figure pressing toward them was armed and unrelenting, all with the raw intent to kill.

CLANK!

She parried the following first man's strike, her sword deflecting his heavy blow, but an uncharacteristic hesitation flickered in her movements. Her training as a knight had always focused on disabling, on subduing enemies rather than truly harming them, and the distinction now felt jarring.

Each swing she avoided, every slice she redirected, reminded her of this unfamiliar ground. Even with the instinctual response bred into her through years of knighthood, there was an uncertainty, a small pulse of reluctance each time she lifted her blade.

Valeria moved with precision, her focus narrowing as she deflected each oncoming attack. The first thug lunged at her with a heavy swing, but she sidestepped, her Zweihander slicing through the air to meet his unguarded shoulder.

He stumbled back, clutching his wound as she moved on without a second glance.

Another opponent closed in, his knife aimed for her side, but Valeria's training took over. She twisted her body, bringing her sword down in a quick, clean arc.

The thug barely had time to react as her blade grazed his arm, sending him reeling. Without pause, she blocked a third thug's reckless strike, redirecting it and slashing his arm, forcing him to retreat.

But then the fourth man stepped forward, a sneer twisting his face as he grabbed a mug from a nearby table. With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the drink at her, the liquid splattering across her face. Valeria's vision blurred for a crucial second, her instinct kicking in too late to block the incoming blow.

SLASH!

Pain shot through her abdomen as his blade found its mark, cutting through her armor and mana just enough to leave a sharp, stinging wound.

She gritted her teeth, the adrenaline dulling the pain as she wiped her face, regaining her focus. Ignoring the discomfort, she stepped forward, driving her sword down into the man's leg, her blade slicing through muscle as he collapsed with a howl.

"Hisssss-!"

Valeria took a steadying breath, but there was no time to pause. Another thug charged at her, his face twisted with anger as he swung his club in a wide arc. She parried, her movements swift, but each clash took its toll. The encounters left her with deepening cuts and bruises—a gash along her shoulder, a scrape across her arm, and a painful bruise along her ribs. Her body ached with each movement, her breathing growing heavier as the skirmish wore on.

By the time the sixth opponent stepped forward, she could feel the weight of her injuries, her body protesting with each strike.

'Tch….'

Valeria's grip tightened on her sword as pain flared through her body, her earlier wounds pulsing with each rapid beat of her heart.

But there was no option to relent. She adjusted her stance, bracing herself for the next wave.

Suddenly, she sensed movement from her left—the thug she'd already injured was advancing, a maddened gleam in his eyes as he charged her again.

Blood seeped through the wound she'd left on him, yet he lunged with renewed fury, his face twisted in a grimace of hatred. His voice rang out, raw with rage. "Die!"

He struck wildly, his blade aiming low to throw her off balance, but Valeria parried the blow, her own blade biting into his arm again. He staggered back, his weapon falling from his hand as he gripped his bleeding wound. She turned back toward Lucavion, expecting him to handle the next attacker, only to find him locked in combat with two men who had managed to trap him between them.

'Another one!'

Her senses prickled as she felt movement to her right. She spun, but it was too late. A blade glinted in the dim light, and her eyes widened in a moment of cold realization—she wouldn't be able to deflect in time.

'No!'

The attacker's strike bore down on her, sharp and unyielding, and in a split second, she braced herself for the pain.

But just before the blade met her flesh, a flash of steel swept across her vision, intercepting the strike. The clang of metal rang out as Lucavion's sword caught her assailant's blade mid-swing, stopping it an inch from her side.

And then without even looking her way, he put more pressure on his ankle and forced his body to rotate 90 degrees.

SLASH!

Following that, his estoc, which was glowing black suddenly slashed the man's neck.

SPURT!

With blood spurting all across.

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