Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

For the whole semifinal time, Valeria watched from the stands, her heart steady, her mind calm. She had already fought her own battle in the semifinals, and though she had lost to Varen, she found herself surprisingly at peace. It wasn't a bitter defeat—it was a duel where she had given her all, every ounce of strength and discipline honed over years. Her loss wasn't due to arrogance or miscalculation but because her opponent was simply stronger. It was a reminder of how far she still had to go, a humbling yet invigorating experience.

Now, her focus was entirely on Lucavion. He stood opposite Lira in the arena, his posture relaxed, his blade held almost carelessly. It was infuriating, that smirk he wore—so dismissive, so confident. And yet, Valeria couldn't look away.

From the first exchange of blows, it became clear that this wasn't just a battle of swords. It was a clash of ideologies, of personalities. Lira, fierce and desperate, fought with the overwhelming might of her sect's techniques. Her strikes were powerful, her movements calculated, but there was something hollow about them. Valeria recognized it immediately—Lira was fighting to prove something, not to herself, but to the world. Every slash of her blade was steeped in frustration, her techniques trying to shout louder than Lucavion's words.

Lucavion, on the other hand, was silent, his movements deliberate. He didn't fight to prove his strength; he fought to unearth truths. His every action seemed designed to strip away Lira's composure, exposing not just the flaws in her technique but the fractures in her pride.

Valeria's fingers twitched as she watched Lucavion deflect a particularly brutal technique—one she recognized as the Cloud Heavens Sect's signature move, Cyclone Rend. He sidestepped it with maddening ease, his estoc flicking out to disrupt the technique's flow. It was like watching an artist dismantle a poorly constructed painting, stroke by stroke.

And as the fight raged on, Valeria couldn't help but compare herself to both fighters. She had stood in that arena just hours ago, against an opponent whose strength eclipsed hers. But she hadn't lost her composure, hadn't succumbed to desperation. Her loss had been clean, and she had walked away with her head high. Lira, however, was crumbling before her eyes, her pride unraveling with every taunt, every failed strike.

And then there was Lucavion. Valeria's lips pressed into a thin line as she watched him toy with Lira—not physically, but mentally. He wielded words as skillfully as he did his blade, each one finding its mark, digging into Lira's insecurities. It was a kind of fight Valeria wasn't used to, one that relied on understanding your opponent's mind as much as their techniques.

'He's not just fighting her,' Valeria knew. 'He's exposing her.'

It wasn't just Lira he was exposing. His words cut deeper, reaching into the very foundation of the Cloud Heavens Sect. The crowd murmured, their whispers growing louder with every revelation he uttered. Valeria glanced around, noting the unease on the faces of the spectators. He was doing what no one dared to—challenging not just a fighter, but an institution.

A part of Valeria admired him for it. She had always followed the rules, respected the structures of power, and upheld the principles instilled in her as a knight. But Lucavion… he didn't care about rules. He fought with a purpose beyond personal victory, tearing down facades and forcing people to confront uncomfortable truths.

But another part of her bristled at his methods. He was too reckless, too smug. Watching him, Valeria felt a strange mix of respect and exasperation. His confidence bordered on arrogance, and yet… he was effective. Every strike, every word, served a purpose, and by the time the fight drew to a close, Lira was a shadow of the fighter she had been at the start.

When Lucavion finally landed the decisive blow, the arena fell silent. Lira knelt on the ground, her blade slipping from her grasp, her aura flickering like a dying flame. The fight was over, but the echoes of it would linger far longer. The whispers in the crowd had turned into an uproar, and even from her seat, Valeria could feel the shift in the air.

Lucavion turned, his smirk firmly in place, but there was something in his eyes that gave Valeria pause. Was it satisfaction? No… it was something deeper. A quiet, burning determination that went beyond the fight, beyond the tournament.

Then as she sat in the stands, her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the arena even as Lucavion disappeared from view. The roar of the crowd seemed distant, muffled by the tumult of thoughts swirling in her mind. She replayed his words, dissecting them, trying to separate hyperbole from truth.

"Living furnaces."

The phrase had struck a nerve, its weight pressing heavily against her chest. She had grown up in a world of discipline and honor, one where strength was earned through effort and sacrifice. The idea that the Cloud Heavens Sect, revered and feared across the land, could engage in something so vile—made her stomach twist.

Her fingers tightened against her arms. Was it true? Could they truly be capable of such horrors? Using children, orphans, the forgotten—turning them into tools to fuel their cultivation?

The more she thought about it, the harder it became to dismiss.

Valeria's mind wandered back to the sect disciples she had encountered during the tournament. She thought of Lira—proud, powerful, but hollow. There had always been something about her aura that felt off, a faint imbalance that Valeria couldn't place. Was that the result of the sect's methods? Could it be that Lira's strength wasn't her own, but stolen, torn from the lives of innocents?

And Elder Xue… Valeria had seen her fury during the fight, the way her composure had cracked under Lucavion's taunts. That wasn't just anger. It was fear. Lucavion's accusations had hit a nerve, and Xue's desperation to silence him only added weight to his claims.

"He planned this," Valeria murmured under her breath, recalling the precision with which Lucavion had delivered his words. He hadn't spoken out of anger or recklessness. Every sentence had been a blade, carefully aimed to cut through the sect's carefully constructed facade.

But were his words true? Or was he simply a master manipulator, weaving lies to sow chaos?

Valeria's thoughts were a maelstrom of conflict as she sat in the stands, the crowd's uproar fading into the background. She tried to dissect the storm of emotions stirring within her, but the pieces didn't quite fit. Lucavion's words, his actions—they were calculated, deliberate. But was he truly a liar? Could someone with such a sharp mind and unyielding confidence fabricate lies this precise, this devastating?

Her gaze remained fixed on the now-empty arena. The name "Lucavion" lingered in her mind, carrying with it a myriad of impressions—frustration, curiosity, respect, and something she couldn't quite name. He was arrogant, reckless, even infuriating at times. Yet, there was a strange sincerity beneath it all, a conviction that made her hesitate to dismiss him entirely.

A liar? The question lingered, heavy and unresolved.

Valeria clenched her fists against her arms, her heart tightening with an unfamiliar weight as she thought of him. He was always so sure of himself, so maddeningly calm. If he were truly a manipulator, then why did his actions feel less like deceit and more like a relentless pursuit of truth? She hated doubting her instincts, yet here she was, tangled in contradictions.

"Why does it feel like this?" she murmured under her breath, her voice almost lost amidst the cacophony of the crowd. It wasn't just his words that unsettled her—it was the gnawing ache in her chest, the strange pull she felt whenever her mind strayed to him. It was infuriating, confusing, and impossible to ignore.

With a deep breath, Valeria rose from her seat. She couldn't let this uncertainty fester any longer. She needed answers, needed to confront him, to piece together the truth from the fragments of her scattered thoughts. Talking to Lucavion—about her fight, about his—felt inevitable. Perhaps seeing him would bring clarity to the storm raging within her.

Her steps were steady but brisk as she descended from the stands, her mind fixated on finding him. The corridors beneath the arena buzzed with activity—attendants rushing about, voices echoing in hushed whispers—but Valeria paid them no mind. Her focus was singular, her resolve unshaken.

As she approached the contestants' quarters, a figure caught her eye. Elder Xue stormed past her, her robes billowing with the force of her movement. Valeria instinctively stepped to the side, her breath catching as she saw the elder's face—a mask of barely contained fury. Xue's hands trembled at her sides, her aura crackling faintly as if struggling to contain the storm within.

Valeria paused, her gaze lingering on the elder's retreating form. The scene only deepened her unease. Lucavion's fight had clearly struck a nerve, his words cutting through not just Lira but the foundation of the Cloud Heavens Sect itself. And now, Xue's anger seemed less like righteous indignation and more like the desperation of someone cornered.

'But at the same time….. what was Elder Xue doing here? It couldn't be right?!

Valeria's mind raced as she stared at Elder Xue's retreating form. The elder's movements were erratic, her aura flickering with wild intensity. It wasn't just anger—it was something deeper, something darker. Desperation, perhaps. Fear.

'What did you do, Lucavion?' she thought, her chest tightening.

Her imagination spiraled, unearthing worst-case scenarios. She pictured Lucavion lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, that maddening smirk wiped from his face. She saw Elder Xue standing over him, her blade dripping crimson, her aura suffocating the air around them.

'No. No, no, no!' The images burned in her mind, each one worse than the last.

Before she realized it, her feet were moving, carrying her toward the contestants' quarters at a near run. The corridors blurred around her, the buzz of voices and the shuffle of footsteps fading into the background. All that mattered was getting there—getting to him.

As she turned a corner, she nearly collided with Elder Kael. The elder's sharp eyes flicked to her, his expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion. But she didn't stop. She barely registered his presence, her focus unshakable.

Kael's brows furrowed, but he didn't pursue her. She was already gone, her form disappearing down the corridor.

The air grew heavier as she approached the contestants' quarters, a chill settling over her as if the tension in the building had taken on a life of its own. Her heart pounded, each beat a reminder of the urgency driving her forward.

When she finally reached the door to the lounge, she hesitated for the briefest of moments. Her hand hovered over the handle, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't want to open it—not if her imagination had been right. But she had to.

Steeling herself, she pushed the door open.

The scene inside made her heart lurch. Lucavion stood near the center of the room, his posture relaxed but his clothes stained with blood. His arm hung at an unnatural angle, his estoc resting lightly in his grip.

But at least he looked alive.

"Haaah…."

And that was fine for her for now.

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