Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Lucavion's movements slowed, his estoc held casually at his side, as if even the effort to keep it raised was unnecessary. He glanced at Lira, who stood trembling, her blade quivering in her grip as the effects of the forbidden pill began to gnaw at her body. Then, with an unsettling calm, he turned his gaze to the crowd.

"Tell me something," Lucavion said, his voice cutting through the arena like a blade, amplified not by magic but by sheer conviction. "How does the Cloud Heavens Sect always seem to produce so many 3-star and 4-star disciples?"

The crowd murmured, the question hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

"And yet," he continued, gesturing lazily toward Lira, "their techniques… they lack refinement. Their strikes lack purpose. They swing as if strength alone is enough to win. How do you explain that?"

The murmurs grew louder, rippling through the audience as curious glances and hushed exchanges spread like wildfire.

"Or perhaps," Lucavion said, his tone growing sharper, "you've noticed other things? Little things. Like how the Cloud Heavens Sect disciples, with all their supposed 'discipline,' are seen wandering the red-light district every night of this tournament. How does a sect so focused on 'purity' and 'control' reconcile that?"

SWOOSH!

Lira slashed, trying to shut him down.

'Shut up!'

Lucavion sidestepped Lira's strike effortlessly, the sharp edge of her blade slicing through empty air. His expression didn't change; his eyes were calm and mocking as he looked at her, not as a warrior but as something beneath his notice.

"Did I strike a nerve?" he asked, his voice loud and casual, carrying effortlessly over the arena. The crowd murmured, a mix of shock and intrigue rippling through them.

"Shut up!" Lira shouted, her voice trembling with rage. She channeled more mana into her blade, the air around it crackling with energy as she unleashed another technique. A torrent of wind burst forth from her blade, a cutting storm of mana aimed straight at Lucavion.

He didn't flinch. He didn't dodge. His estoc flicked upward with a calculated, almost lazy movement, and the storm dissolved in an instant, its force dissipating harmlessly into the air. The crowd gasped, stunned into silence by the ease of his deflection.

"Impressive showmanship," Lucavion said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But that's all it is, isn't it? A show. No substance. No control."

Lira's grip tightened on her sword, her knuckles white as she gritted her teeth. The forbidden pill coursing through her veins gave her strength nearing a 5-star Awakened, a power she had never felt before, yet it felt meaningless. Every strike, every technique was countered effortlessly. It was like fighting an unmovable wall, one that didn't even seem to notice her existence.

With a scream of frustration, she launched another attack, channeling her sect's signature technique. "Cyclone Rend!" she cried, the air around her blade compressing into a spiraling mass of destructive wind. She slashed forward, the cyclone roaring toward Lucavion with devastating force.

He moved again, stepping into the attack rather than away. His estoc danced, precise and deliberate, striking at the core of the cyclone. In an instant, the spiraling wind unraveled, the technique collapsing into harmless gusts. Lucavion stepped out unscathed, his smirk widening.

"Is this really the strength of the Cloud Heavens Sect?" he asked, turning his gaze to the audience once more. "How do they reach such heights, I wonder? Certainly not through skill. Certainly not through discipline. So what's their secret?"

Lira's heart pounded in her chest as she charged again, her blade flashing through the air in a flurry of strikes. She used everything—every technique, every ounce of mana—but it didn't matter. Lucavion's estoc deflected every blow, his movements never faltering. He wasn't even using mana beyond a 2-star capacity, yet her attacks couldn't touch him.

"You seem desperate," he remarked, his voice infuriatingly calm. "Is it because you're running out of tricks? Or is it because you know the poison won't save you now?"

Lira froze mid-strike, her eyes widening. "W-what?" she stammered, her voice barely audible.

Lucavion chuckled, stepping back to give her space. "Oh, did you think I didn't know? The poison you put in my food, the poison you used on the Silver Flame Sect disciples in the quarterfinals—it's all so predictable. You thought it would give you the edge, didn't you?"

The crowd's murmurs turned to gasps, the accusations hanging heavy in the air. Lira's face paled, her hand trembling on the hilt of her blade.

"I got rid of it," Lucavion said, his smirk sharp as a blade. "Did you think I'd let something so petty stop me? Poison, pressure on the inns, underhanded deals—it's all you know, isn't it? The only way the Cloud Heavens Sect stays relevant is through manipulation and deceit."

"Shut up!" Lira screamed, her voice cracking as she swung her blade with all her might. Her mana flared wildly, her strikes growing more desperate and erratic. But it was useless. Lucavion's estoc moved like a shadow, deflecting every attack with an ease that only deepened her despair.

On the other hand, Lucavion continued his display.

"Did anyone notice how strange the quarterfinals were? How did the Silver Flame Sect's disciples move slower than usual, how did their strikes lack power and precision? Didn't that seem… odd?"

Gasps rippled through the stands, and a few spectators nodded hesitantly, their expressions shifting from confusion to suspicion.

"Why would that happen?" Lucavion pressed, his tone mocking yet razor-sharp. "Could it be… poison? Could it be that the Cloud Heavens Sect, so desperate to maintain their image, resorts to underhanded tactics to secure victory? Because I can tell you right now, they poisoned me before this match."

The murmurs turned into a full-blown uproar, the audience's shock and disbelief filling the air like a storm. Lira's face paled further, her lips trembling as she shook her head vehemently. "No! That's not true! You're just trying to—"

"Enough," Lucavion snapped, his voice silencing her like a thunderclap. He pointed his estoc toward her, his gaze cold. "Your sect's lies run deep, Lira Vaelan. You might be able to fool some people, but not me. And certainly not the audience here."

He turned back to the crowd, his voice booming with accusation. "You've all heard of the pressure the Cloud Heavens Sect puts on others, haven't you? How they manipulate and bully those who can't defend themselves? Even here, in Andelheim, they've shown their true colors. They pressured the innkeepers to deny me a place to rest before the fight."

Gasps filled the arena, and all eyes turned toward the section where Marquis Ventor and the other dignitaries sat. The murmurs turned to shouts of indignation, and Lucavion wasn't done yet.

"But don't take my word for it," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "Why don't we ask Madam Iron Matron? Madam, didn't Elder Xue herself come to you to demand you refuse me a room?"

All eyes turned toward a woman seated near the dignitaries—a broad-shouldered, no-nonsense figure with a presence as unyielding as the steel she was named for. Mariel Farlon, the Iron Matron, rose slowly, her expression grim.

"Yes," she said, her voice carrying over the noise like a hammer striking an anvil. "That's true. Elder Xue came to me personally, threatening my business if I dared to offer Lucavion a place to stay."

The arena exploded with outrage, the audience's fury directed squarely at Elder Xue. The elder's face twisted into a mask of barely restrained rage, her hands clenching tightly as she rose to her feet.

"Enough of this!" she shouted, her voice amplified by mana. "These are baseless accusations meant to tarnish the name of the Cloud Heavens Sect! This man is a liar and a troublemaker!"

Lucavion tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Baseless? Oh, Elder Xue, I'd say they're anything but. And it seems the crowd agrees."

The audience's cheers for Lira had turned into jeers, their faith in the sect crumbling under the weight of Lucavion's words. Elder Xue's expression darkened further, her fingers twitching as if she might act despite the consequences.

Lucavion turned to Lira.

"You've never earned anything," he said, his voice growing colder. "Your strength isn't your own. Your sect's success isn't its own. You've built your empire on lies, on the suffering of others. And now, when faced with someone who sees through it, you crumble."

Lira's vision blurred as the forbidden pill began to take its toll, her body trembling from the strain. Her strikes faltered, her movements growing sluggish as Lucavion stepped forward, his eyes locked on hers.

"This is the best you can do?" he asked, his voice cutting through her like a blade. "With all your stolen strength, with all the lives your sect has destroyed, this is it?"

Her blade slipped from her hands, clattering to the ground. She fell to her knees, her body shaking as Lucavion loomed over her, his presence an unshakable weight.

"You thought the forbidden pill would save you," he said, his voice low and cold. "But you're just proving my point. Without your tricks, without your lies, you're nothing. Just another hollow shell pretending to be strong."

The crowd erupted into chaos, their voices a mixture of outrage and disbelief. Lira's vision swam as Lucavion turned to face the audience, his voice rising above the din.

"This is the Cloud Heavens Sect!" he declared, his words sharp and unrelenting. "This is the truth behind their power. Lies, manipulation, and deceit. But today, the world sees them for what they truly are."