Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 221: The Beastkin (2)

What does it mean to be in a novel?

The advantages of living in a world derived from a novel.

In a novel, everything is designed with purpose. Take the villains, for instance. To create a compelling antagonist, the author has to build them with layers, history, and motives. These arenʼt just obstacles—theyʼre people, often crafted to make the reader connect with them, even sympathize, despite their actions.

Itʼs just that in a story, every villain has a past, right? And as a reader, you learn about that past, you understand what twisted them into what they became. And when theyʼre written well, those pasts arenʼt there just for show—they bind the characters to the readers, creating empathy, or at the very least, understanding.

One would know what these people have gone through, where theyʼve faltered, and the choices that drove them.

I kept my gaze fixed on the arena below, eyes zeroing in on Valeria and the young foxkin standing across from her. The crowd was buzzing with anticipation, their energy infectious, but my mind was focused elsewhere, piecing together details I knew all too well.

One of the main reasons I came to Andelheim was, of course, to make a name for myself, to win this tournament, and to start establishing a reputation. But there was more to it than that—a deeper reason tied to this city and the people in it. Andelheim wasnʼt just a place for fame; it was a city heavy with the past of certain characters, key pieces woven into the background of this world.

The boy standing across from Valeria was one of those pieces. One half of a pair of foxkin siblings, young beastkin whoʼd suffered more than most could imagine. Slaves to some bastard whoʼd twisted their lives beyond recognition, both this boy and his sister had been nothing but tools in the hands of a cruel master. In the story, they hadnʼt had a chance to escape; pain and anger had festered until it warped them, leaving them vengeful and ruthless.

The boy would grow into a formidable villain—a blade honed by years of suffering, a force of vengeance that would one day shake the story. His sister would follow a similar path, her innocence buried beneath bitterness and survival instincts.

But they hadnʼt started as villains. Not really. This world, meticulously crafted to create the deepest antagonists, had pushed them to the edge. And here I was, standing on the edge of their story, knowing more than they would ever understand about the forces that shaped them.

”Found you,” I murmured under my breath, like confirming the final piece of a puzzle. The tournament had brought them here, and for once, I had a chance to alter that path.

I shifted in my seat, watching Valeria and the boy lock eyes, feeling the weight of the moment.

ʼVitaliara,ʼ

I called silently, and her familiar voice responded almost immediately, echoing within my mind.

[Yes?]

I kept my gaze fixed on the boy, watching the tension in his stance, the subtle fury simmering just below his composed exterior. ʼ

Can you sense anything... unusual about him?

ʼ I asked.

She fell silent, focusing on the boy from afar. A moment later, her voice returned, thoughtful but edged with something darker. [The amount of resentment and death energy heʼs carrying… itʼs not normal. Far from it. For one so young, heʼs seen far more than most, and the energy of it clings to him like a shadow.]

Her words confirmed what Iʼd suspected. This wasnʼt just a kid fighting in a tournament. This was someone whoʼd been forced to confront the worst life had to offer, someone already tainted by darkness.

As I watched the boy, Vitaliaraʼs voice returned, quieter but tinged with a note of disgust. [Thereʼs something else,] she murmured, as if hesitant to speak. [A binding magic… Itʼs faint but insidious, woven deep within him. Like chains, though more refined. Not just any magic—this is binding magic of the cruelest kind.]

Her words echoed what Iʼd already guessed.

Slave pacts.

Brutal magic that latched onto the spirit, leaving no freedom. Only obedience. I nodded to myself, the pieces of this twisted puzzle slotting into place with a sickening certainty.

ʼCan you locate the one responsible?

ʼ I asked silently. ʼ

You should be able to trace the connection, now that your strength has returned.ʼ

The weight of her regained power was undeniable.

Sheʼd grown far stronger in recent days as she had recovered her energy from the two of her ʼsubordinates?ʼ

[Indeed,] she replied, her voice sharper, brimming with purpose. [In fact, this might be easier than usual—whoever bound him wasnʼt cautious, likely confident that no one would detect it. But be warned, Lucavion; the connection could be fragile. Iʼll need a moment.]

ʼTake the time you need,ʼ

I assured her, my gaze remaining steady on the boy below. The arena was charged with excitement, oblivious to what lay beneath the surface of this match.

All the better. Thanks to the scene Iʼd stirred up moments ago, the attention was still on me. Slipping away now, or making any rash moves, would invite a hundred suspicious glances.

Also, it was not like this was for the worse.

ʼI canʼt act immediately.ʼ

In the novel, it was revealed that these kids were not just threatened by the Slave Pact. They were also being threatened by the people of their village, as all of them were captured.

ʼThough…..ʼ

Well, the sad part is, that they were already sold.

These foxkin siblings thought they were fighting for something—their freedom, perhaps, or the hope that their village was safe. But I knew the bitter truth.

The master who held them had woven more than chains; he had built an illusion, a shimmering, hollow promise that bound them as tightly as the pact.

Somewhere in their minds, they clung to the belief that their people were safe, hidden away in a place where they could live in peace. But that ”sanctuary” was no more than a mirage, a carefully crafted lie to keep the siblings compliant.

In time, theyʼd learn the truth. I remembered the scene vividly: the moment when one of the foxkin, a friend from their village, was found in a nobleʼs quarters—a baron who had purchased him as if he were livestock.

It was that terrible revelation, that silent confirmation of betrayal, that shattered whatever fragile hope the siblings had held onto.

And that was when their lives twisted beyond redemption. They didnʼt merely lose hope; they became consumed by fury, a rage so fierce it broke through the bindings of their pact, even though pain wracked their bodies with every rebellious thought.

They fought back against their master and his allies, driven by a hatred so deep that it gave them the strength to defy even death.

In the story, it was then, at their lowest, their bodies beaten and on the verge of collapse, that a shadowed organization appeared—a group that thrived on the fractured, the vengeful, the broken.

They promised the siblings power, guidance, and a path to vengeance. The siblings accepted, not because they wanted salvation, but because they wanted retribution, no matter the cost.

CLANK!

But as I was lost in my thoughts, the sudden act of weapons clashing brought me back to reality.

ʼWell…..Letʼs see what you can do, against an opponent like this, My Lady Knight.ʼ

Would she emerge victorious, or not….It was time to find that fact.

********

As the match between Valeria and the young beastkin boy was about to begin, the crowdʼs murmur quieted, a hush settling over the arena.

Valeriaʼs fingers flexed around the hilt of her sword, her mind focused but her instincts still uneasy.

–SWOOSH!

The moment the match began, the boy charged forward, his movements a blur of speed and intensity. Valeria tensed, surprised by how quickly he closed the distance, his bare hands clawed and ready. Despite his unarmed approach, every muscle in his body was coiled, radiating a fierce, predatory energy.

She raised her Zweihander, intending to meet his attack head-on, but the boy moved with an agility that was hard to follow. He sidestepped her initial swing, ducking low before springing up, his claws slashing with surprising force.

”Fast—!”

CLANK!

She blocked, but the impact of his strike reverberated through her arms, nearly causing her to lose her footing.

SWOOSH!

ʼThat strength…!ʼ

she thought, shocked by the raw power behind his small frame. It was as if a truck had collided with her, each strike landing with a weight that belied his young age and small size.

Valeria adjusted her stance, bracing herself against his relentless assault. But the foxkin boy wasnʼt giving her any reprieve—he twisted around her, his movements fluid and precise, each strike aimed at her weak points with uncanny accuracy.

She managed to deflect some blows, but each time she blocked, she felt the sheer force of his attacks testing the limits of her defenses.

ʼThis boy… he fights like a beast….ʼ

The fight was not going to be an easy one. She could see that.