Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 340 What are you goint to do?

His thoughts were not without caution, though. Absorbing mana from those stronger than oneself was a dangerous act, a gamble of will and endurance. But as long as I win… the risks matter little.

Lucavion reached for his flask, perched neatly on a flat stone by the riverʼs edge, and took a measured sip. The burn of alcohol slid down his throat, cleansing the residual taste of blood that still lingered at the back of his tongue. He turned his gaze toward the camp heʼd made earlier—a modest fire crackling faintly beneath the trees, its glow softened by distance.

Lucavion tilted the flask slightly, watching the liquid swirl within before taking another slow sip. The alcohol bit at his tongue, sharp and unrelenting, though it didnʼt carry the burn he wished it would—no warmth pooling in his stomach, no dizzying haze clouding his senses.

Of course not. Regular alcohol holds no power here.

”Baaah…” He scoffed, pulling the flask away as he studied it with a faint, sardonic smile. ”Nothing but a sharp taste left behind, huh?”

For someone who wasnʼt much of a drinker, there was still a strange satisfaction in it—like biting into something bitter after tasting too much sweetness, or the fleeting sting of cold air on a healing wound. It was a stark contrast, and it chased away the lingering metallic tang of blood that clung to his senses.

Itʼs a shame, he thought wryly, swirling the contents idly. No matter how strong the brew, it wonʼt touch me unless itʼs something special. Awakened bodies are too stubborn for that.

And his body? Well… Lucavion let out a low chuckle, his dark eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight.

”Far too different for something as ordinary as this.”

The truth of it was simple. Awakened individuals, those who walked the path of mana cultivation, were no longer constrained by the limits of mortal flesh. Ordinary poisons, toxins, and vices couldnʼt sink their claws into a body that had transcended beyond. Their systems burned through impurities too efficiently, reducing even the strongest drinks to mere flavor and memory.

But Lucavion wasnʼt simply Awakened. His body carried mana that defied the natural rules, cores that spun with an equilibrium alien to most. The [Devourer of Stars] and the [Flame of Equinox]—one born of devouring light, the other balancing life and death—had altered him on a level deeper than blood or bone. He was a vessel of contradictions, and simple alcohol couldnʼt hope to bind itself to him.

Still… He pressed the cool metal of the flask briefly against his lips again, savoring the lingering taste. It does one thing right—it drowns out the blood.

The death mana still simmered in his veins, not chaotic, but undeniably alive, like a chorus whispering just beneath the surface of his skin. It carried the weight of those heʼd slain, a weight he had long since stopped fearing. Yet sometimes, the taste of blood lingered longer than he liked—on his tongue, in his throat, seared into the back of his thoughts.

”This,” he murmured, tapping the flask once before setting it back on the stone, ”is as good a remedy as Iʼll find.”

A faint rustle from behind made him glance over his shoulder. Vitaliaraʼs ethereal form materialized at the edge of the clearing, her soft glow like a wisp of starlight drifting through the dark. Her eyes, deep and ancient, held his for a moment before she moved closer, her form delicate yet brimming with renewed strength.

[Youʼre brooding again,] she teased gently, though her tone carried an undercurrent of something softer. [Do you doubt yourself?]

Lucavion chuckled, though the sound was low and edged with weariness. ”If I doubted myself, I wouldnʼt have struck them down.” He looked at her, his gaze sharp yet knowing. ”But I wonʼt pretend the line we tread is thin. Killing is killing, no matter how justified it seems.”

[And yet, you still hesitate to call it justice,] Vitaliara murmured, stepping closer to the riverʼs edge. Her gaze drifted across the water as if she could see the blood it had already carried away. [You call it necessary.]

”It is necessary.” Lucavionʼs voice hardened, though not unkindly. ”Justice… morality… those are luxuries people speak of when they have time to debate. When theyʼre not clawing to survive or trying to carve something better out of this dying world.”

He looked back toward the trees, the faint smoke from his campfire twisting upward to join the night sky. ”Those men were beyond saving. Their karma—” he paused, his lips quirking into a half-smile, ”—it weighed too much for this world to hold any longer.”

Vitalaira tilted her head, her soft glow brushing against the edges of his perception. [You understand it better than most, Lucavion. Life and death are not a matter of balance. They are a matter of choice.]

Lucavionʼs gaze darkened faintly as he nodded, his thoughts drifting back to the Crimson Serpent Sectʼs broken remains. ”Choice,” he echoed. ”They chose to carve their lives from the blood of others. And I…” He shrugged faintly, a glimmer of something sharper in his expression. ”I chose to end them.”

The river murmured softly, as if agreeing with him.

Vitalaira remained silent for a long moment, watching him carefully. Then, with a small nod, she stepped closer, her presence a calming force against the weight of the night. [And for those you spared?]

”Theyʼll remember tonight,” Lucavion replied simply. ”Whether they use that memory to crawl back into the darkness or walk away from it… thatʼs their choice. For now, theyʼve earned the right to make it.”

Vitalaira purred softly in approval, the faintest smile curving her lips. [You tread a dangerous path, Lucavion. But you do not tread it blindly.]

Lucavionʼs smirk returned, faint and sardonic, though there was an edge of something unspoken beneath it. He turned his gaze back to the moon, letting its distant light wash over him once more. ”Blind or not, the path is mine to walk.”

He rose from the water then, the droplets glistening faintly as they trailed down his scarred, moonlit skin. The fire from the camp crackled in the distance, its faint glow calling him back, but he lingered a moment longer by the river, listening to its song.

Perhaps it was Vitaliaraʼs gift—her ability to see the death others carried—that allowed him to justify his actions. Or perhaps it was just him, making peace with the weight he chose to bear.

Either way, the line he walked remained his alone to tread. And tonight, at least, he walked it unflinching.

Lucavionʼs smirk curved faintly as he reached for the edge of the riverbank, rising fully from the water. Droplets trailed down his skin in thin rivulets, glimmering faintly in the moonlight before falling soundlessly to the earth below. His toned body, scarred and forged from countless battles, was as stark as the night itself—unapologetically real.

A voice, familiar yet tinged with indignation, broke the calm.

[Hey… give a warning before you leave.]

Lucavion turned his head slightly, not particularly surprised to see Vitaliara standing there with an uncharacteristic tension in her expression. She was perched delicately at the riverʼs edge, her usual ethereal glow catching in the darkness like threads of starlight. Yet her eyes—her very alive eyes—were fixed squarely on him.

A faint snort escaped him as he grabbed his trousers, unfazed and uninterested in rushing. ”Youʼre late with that, Vitaliara. Iʼm already out of the water.”

Her glow flickered ever so slightly, though her gaze remained steady. [I wouldnʼt need to be late if youʼd act with a shred of decorum, Lucavion.]

He huffed a quiet laugh, low and edged with teasing. ”Decorum?” He pulled his shirt from the branch where it hung, shaking off the moisture before draping it lazily over his shoulder. ”Since when do you care for that?”

Vitalaira shifted slightly, her tail flicking behind her in what he recognized as agitation—or perhaps something closer to flustered indignation. It was a rare sight, and Lucavion didnʼt let it slip by unnoticed.

”Hmph.”

Her voice came again, clipped and defensive. [Itʼs not as if I want to look. Itʼs just… unavoidable.]

He paused briefly, his sharp gaze flicking toward her sidelong, amusement glimmering in his dark eyes.

ʼUnavoidable, huh?ʼ

Sure.

Lucavion pulled the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, his movements deliberate yet unhurried. Beneath the half-shadow of his damp hair, his smirk deepened, sharp and knowing.

”Itʼs not like you donʼt enjoy the view, Vitaliara,” he drawled lazily, his tone half-serious, half-mocking. ”You peeper.”

[Who—who is a peeper?!]

Her voice rose in a flustered protest, and though she tried to sound indignant, the edges of her words wavered ever so slightly. A faint glow pulsed brighter across her form, as though her very essence rebelled at his accusation.

Lucavion tilted his head, feigning deep thought as he fastened his coat. ”Letʼs see. Youʼre here, watching without warning, and lingering for longer than necessary. That sounds like peeping to me.”

[I am not!] she shot back, her glow sparking like an ember briefly flaring to life. [You are the one wandering around shirtless in the moonlight, like youʼre posing for a statue.]

Lucavion chuckled, a low and quiet sound that cut through her words with maddening ease. ”Posing, huh? Iʼll take that as a compliment.”

[It wasnʼt!]

Her tail swished with growing vigor now, the starlit edges of her form pulsing faintly in tandem with her indignation.

Vitalairaʼs form glimmered faintly, her glow softening as she visibly reined in her agitation. The swishing of her tail slowed, though the occasional flick betrayed the embers of lingering indignation. She drew herself up slightly, her starlit presence settling into the calm grace she so often wore like a mantle. Her sharp eyes, however, remained fixed on Lucavion as he adjusted the fastenings of his coat.

[Now what?] she asked, her voice steady again, though her tone carried a note of quiet scrutiny. [What are you going to do?]

Lucavion paused mid-motion, the final buckle of his coat clicking into place as a smirk crept back onto his lips. He tilted his head, his gaze slipping toward her, gleaming faintly beneath the damp fall of his dark hair.

”What am I going to do?” he echoed, as though the question had never occurred to him before. His voice was slow, edged with a deliberateness that hinted at both mischief and calculation. ”That is a good question.”

Vitalaira narrowed her eyes slightly, waiting for an answer that, she knew by now, would not come without its own flourish.

Lucavion let the silence hang for a beat longer, his smirk deepening into something sharper—something distinctly him.

”I will need to save one final daughter before the academy.”