Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Valeria arrived at the Crystal Hall at 2:55—thirty-five minutes before her scheduled exam—and still, she wasn't the first.

The path leading to the entrance was already lined with students. Some stood in quiet clusters, whispering. Others sat with knees pulled to their chests, faces pale in the burnished light. No one looked relaxed. Even those pretending to be wore their composure too tightly, like borrowed clothes.

'So the rumors were true.'

She'd overheard it over meals, in the common halls, even passing through the corridor outside Marcus's dorm.

"You'd better be early for Crystal Hall—some students waited over an hour."

"They'll delay you if you're late, and if you miss your call, it counts as a fail."

Valeria hadn't waited to test that policy.

She adjusted the strap of her sword at her back, letting her gaze sweep the hall from where she stood at the outer arch.

The Crystal Hall was… unlike anything else in the Academy.

Dozens of crystalline spires crowned the chamber's roof like a frozen forest, their tips glowing faintly with refracted sunlight, bent into ribbons of color—blues and violets, soft oranges, rose gold that shimmered across the polished floor. The ground was black-veined marble, cold and glossy, as though meant to reflect every step made upon it.

Inside, glass spheres hovered above embedded pedestals, each one pulsing faintly with internal magic—waiting.

And the sound—there wasn't silence.

It was pressure.

Soft, constant, humming pressure. A quiet resonance in the bones of the room itself, like the walls weren't just observing, but remembering.

Valeria stepped into the entry line, her breath catching faintly in her chest—not from nerves, but from sheer presence.

'So this is where they measure us…'

She wasn't used to being measured. Evaluated for battle, yes. Judged on form, discipline, restraint—certainly.

This was not about control.

It was about origin.

She shifted slightly in place, her eyes drifting toward one of the nearby groups—four students clustered just close enough to be whispering, just loud enough to be overheard if one was paying attention.

And Valeria always paid attention.

"—told you it flared gold. I saw it with my own eyes."

"No, it couldn't have been light. It's probably some variant of fire or wind, maybe just really refined—"

"I know what I saw. The sphere didn't even shift colors—it blazed. Bright. And the Magister marked it right there: secondary light affinity."

Valeria blinked once, her gaze turning subtly toward the speaker—a lanky boy in layered robes, speaking with the wide-eyed conviction of someone who'd witnessed something worth remembering.

'Light affinity…?'

Her fingers curled around the strap of her sword again, not in tension, but focus.

Light was rare. More than rare—uncommon enough to mark bloodlines by. There were no known grounded families within the Arcanis Empire with light affinity. Not naturally.

Some whispered that even the Empress herself lacked it.

And when light did appear?

It came from two sources—the Holyland, or bloodlines touched by it.

'Or, if I remember correctly… one of the Ducal Houses in the Lorian Empire. House Valoria, I think.'

She frowned slightly. That alone stirred curiosity.

If a student here had manifested light—even as a secondary—it was quite rare talent.

Valeria narrowed her eyes slightly, scanning the far edge of the chamber.

'I wonder who she is….'

The thought barely had time to settle when the sound came again—clear, deliberate, amplified by spellwork that made it echo across the crystalline spires:

"Student Lucavion."

The name struck the air like a stone dropped in still water.

Valeria's head turned immediately, her body moving before her mind could fully process it.

'Lucavion?'

Her gaze swept the front of the line, toward the gathering of students nearest the instructors' platform—but he wasn't there.

No flash of black. No lazy smirk cutting through the tension like a blade through mist. No lean frame draped in defiance, arms folded like he was humoring the exam itself.

Nothing.

Her eyes scanned again, sharper this time.

Still nothing.

'He's… not here?'

But they'd called his name. Clearly. Deliberately. As if they expected him.

Several students glanced up at the sound, a few whispering as they looked around. One boy near the side even craned his neck, trying to peer down the line.

But no one stepped forward.

Valeria's heart gave a small, inexplicable lurch. Not panic. Not worry. But something in her blood felt pulled—tugged toward something just out of reach.

'Did he forget? No, that's not like him.'

Lucavion, for all his irreverence, never walked into a test unprepared. If anything, he treated them like games.

But this?

'He wouldn't miss something like this.'

Valeria's eyes narrowed.

The Crystal Hall didn't tolerate negligence. This exam was foundational—not just in credits, but in how the Academy categorized you. To miss it without reason was to invite suspicion… or punishment.

And Lucavion? For all his provocations, he wasn't careless. He mocked structure, yes. But only when it served him. He read the rules—then bent them.

But now?

'Did something happen?'

A slow, unwelcome tension coiled at the base of her spine.

She didn't mean to step forward, but her heel shifted, subtle, instinctive.

'No. He wouldn't just vanish. Not without—'

"Ahem."

The sound broke through the crystalline hush, just loud enough to be heard, just amused enough to draw eyes.

A shape moved from the far left of the hall—past a row of waiting students and instructors. Not from the main queue, but from the side arch, where shadows clung longer against the vaulted stone.

"I'm here."

Lucavion's voice was easy. Light. Smoothed over with the faintest layer of mockery—toward the silence, toward the expectation, toward the entire idea of being summoned.

"I'm not late, am I?"

Valeria turned so fast her braid shifted over one shoulder.

And there he was.

Unhurried.

Unbothered.

His coat swayed just slightly behind him as he stepped into view, black fabric catching the refracted light in dull glints, like a predator's smile caught in motion.

And his expression—

A lazy, perfectly placed smirk.

Like he'd planned to walk in exactly then. Like he knew the silence would make the room hold its breath, just long enough for his name to hang in the air like a challenge.

Valeria's mouth twitched. Not a smile. But close.

'Did I just worry for a guy like him?'

The instructors didn't comment.

One of them merely gestured toward the open pedestal with the glowing sphere. Still waiting.

Lucavion didn't hesitate. He moved forward—

—and fast.

Not rushed. But clean. Seamless.

The way he slipped through the dense crowd of students was surgical—without touching a single one.

He moved like water through reeds. Like a breeze through high grass.

So precise it was almost impolite.

Several students stared.

One even stepped back reflexively, though Lucavion had passed him with more than a foot to spare.

Valeria's brow lifted slightly. She'd known he was quick. She'd seen his footwork in that duel.

But this…

'How can he move like that…?'

Valeria's eyes narrowed faintly as she tracked his passage.

There hadn't been a ripple of mana. Not even the faintest flare. No acceleration glyph, no compression, no enhancement technique. Just raw, controlled motion. As if his body knew how to carve through space before space had a chance to resist.

'Not even a breath out of place. No channeling at all…'

It wasn't just fast.

It was trained. Built into the spine. Like every movement had been honed beneath silence and pressure. She'd seen knights train like that. Elite ones. But even then, most of them still had to think about where their feet went.

Lucavion hadn't.

He had simply moved.

The instructor standing beside the pedestal didn't look impressed.

"Student Lucavion," she said, tone clipped with cool restraint. "The instructions for attendance were clear. Arrive early. Present yourself in sequence. Not drift in at whim like this is a theater show."

Lucavion came to a halt before the glowing sphere.

He didn't flinch. Didn't scowl. He merely glanced sideways at the instructor, his smirk softening into something even more maddening—apologetic, but only in theory.

"I thought it best to avoid the crowd," he said mildly, hands at ease behind his back. "Didn't want to trip anyone on my way up. Consider it courtesy."

The instructor blinked once.

Then turned sharply, clearly deciding she didn't have the energy—or the patience—to get into a verbal contest with him. Instead, she stepped aside, one arm extending toward the sphere.

"Place your hands on the sphere. Do not channel mana unless prompted. Let it read you naturally."