Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 592: Figure

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The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of a single enchanted lantern resting on the polished ebony desk. A faint hum of mana pulsed through the air, the only indication that this chamber was not as simple as it appeared. The thick stone walls, reinforced with protective runes, ensured absolute privacy—no stray ears, no lingering eyes.

The figure stood near the desk, his posture composed, his gaze lowered in deference. In front of him, a small, levitating communication crystal pulsed with soft, rhythmic light.

Then—

A voice.

Low, steady, but absolute. A voice that carried the weight of command, of a power that did not need to be raised to be felt.

”Yes, Your Majesty.” The figureʼs tone was unwavering, a perfect mask of obedience. ”Everything is going well.”

A pause.

Then the voice from the crystal responded, smooth yet edged with quiet authority.

”Good.”

The word carried weight, a silent expectation woven into a single syllable.

The voice continued, its cadence deliberate, unwavering.

”We need Varenthia and the trade routes under our control. I donʼt want any discrepancies.”

The figure inclined his head slightly. ”There will be none.”

The glow of the crystal flickered, pulsing in time with the voiceʼs next words.

”Aldric?”

The figureʼs expression remained calm, composed, as he delivered his next words.

”He is doing fine.” His tone was measured, devoid of urgency, but laced with quiet assurance. ”While it is true that his unruly nature surfaces from time to time, it is nothing beyond our expectations. For now, it serves our needs rather than hinders them.”

A brief silence followed. Then the voice in the crystal responded, its cadence smooth, calculated.

”I knew Aldric was someone like this.” There was no hint of surprise in the statement, only a quiet amusement, as if the speaker had long understood the nature of the man they had chosen. ”But that is fine. Someone like that is needed for a place like Varenthia. A brute with a sharp mind, unshackled by useless notions of nobility, yet still bound by the hunger for power. That kind of ambition will stabilize our hold.”

The figure inclined his head slightly. ”As expected of Your Highness, the Crown Prince. Your foresight is unparalleled.” His voice carried the perfect amount of reverence—neither too eager nor too subdued, striking that delicate balance of deference that only a man of his caliber could maintain.

The crystal flickered, a sign that the connection was nearing its end.

”Continue to monitor things,” the Crown Prince said, his voice distant now, as if his mind had already moved on to the next grand plan. ”Ensure that Aldric does not stray too far. He is useful, but only if he remains within our grasp.”

The figure nodded once more, ready to seal the conversation.

But then—

Something shifted.

A sharp, unnatural pulse.

The artifact in his pocket shook.

A deep, unnatural vibration trembled through the air, an omen of something wrong.

The figureʼs body stiffened, his hand darting to his coat, gripping the artifact tightly as he pulled it free.

The runes along its surface were glowing— erratic, pulsing like a dying heart.

”What?” His voice, usually composed, cracked.

”How can this be?”

The crystal flickered, and the Crown Princeʼs voice cut through the sudden tension. ”Did something happen?”

The figure could barely breathe. His fingers tightened around the artifact, his pulse roaring in his ears as the runes continued to twist and distort, as if the very foundation of what they were meant to track had been shattered.

His voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and disbelieving.

”Your Majesty… Aldric…”

The artifact pulsed one last time.

And then—

It stopped.

Cold. Silent.

”...Aldric is dead!”

The figureʼs grip on the artifact tightened as he lifted it to eye level, his mind racing.

The gem was no longer shining.

Not flickering. Not dimming.

Just—dead.

The artifact that had always pulsed with Aldricʼs presence, that had tracked his every movement through the city, was now as lifeless as cold stone.

He exhaled sharply, trying to steady his thoughts.

Then, from the communication crystal—

”Stay calm.”

The Crown Princeʼs voice cut through the panic like a sharpened blade—commanding, firm. ”Explain. How can he be dead? Didnʼt you ensure that no threat would occur?”

The figure forced himself to inhale, to steady his voice. ”We did. We made sure of it.” His fingers dug into the gemstoneʼs surface. ”The artifact detects every high-level fighter entering Varenthia. If anyone strong enough to kill Aldric had entered the city, we would have known.”

A pause.

A deadly, suffocating pause.

Then—

”Then explain.” The Crown Princeʼs voice was colder now, edged with something that made the figureʼs throat tighten. ”How is he dead?”

His mind churned through the possibilities, grasping at answers, but there was only one truth.

”I donʼt know.”

The words tasted bitter.

Because they should have known.

They should have seen this coming.

Aldric was a 6-star Awakened. A force of nature in battle. Not a man who could simply be cut down in the streets like some common mercenary.

And yet—

The artifact was dead.

Meaning Aldric was dead.

Which meant…

Something was in Varenthia that their artifact had not detected.

And that was an impossibility.

Unless—

The figureʼs breath slowed.

Unless what had killed Aldric was not something the artifact could track.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

The figure kept his head bowed, his grip tightening around the lifeless artifact as if willing it to spark back to life—to prove that this was all some sort of temporary malfunction. But the stone remained cold, its once-vibrant pulse extinguished as if it had never held a trace of Aldricʼs presence at all.

The Crown Princeʼs voice cut through the silence like a sharpened blade.

”You donʼt know?”

It was quiet, measured, but beneath that forced composure was something far more dangerous—rage.

The figure swallowed, choosing his next words carefully. ”Your Highness, I swear we have accounted for every variable. The artifact is absolute in its detection—no strong presence has entered Varenthia without our knowledge. There should be no force capable of killing Aldric, not without us knowing.”

”Then explain why I am being told that he is dead.”

The Crown Princeʼs words landed like hammer blows, each one pressing the weight of responsibility deeper into the figureʼs chest.

He exhaled, trying to regain his focus, trying to think. ”It doesnʼt make sense,” he admitted, his voice lower now, laced with frustration he had no right to show. ”But for now, we must investigate before we conclude anything. I will send men out immediately. If Aldric truly is dead, then we will find out who is responsible.”

The silence on the other end of the crystal stretched, taut with unspoken threats.

Then, finally, the Crown Prince spoke again, his tone colder, sharper than before.

”I refuse to believe that Aldric is dead.”

The figure stiffened, not daring to interrupt.

”He was not a fool,” the Crown Prince continued, voice unwavering. ”Aldric was a warrior of his own making, a man who clawed his way up with sheer will. For him to simply disappear without a trace, without even a whisper of a greater power behind it? No. That is not something I will accept.”

The figure hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. ”Then I will confirm it myself. I will find proof.”

”If he is dead,” the Crown Prince continued, his voice dropping just slightly, turning more insidious, ”then I expect the name of the one responsible. I donʼt care who they are. I donʼt care what it takes. But I will have an answer.”

The figure let out a slow breath, pressing his free hand against the desk to steady himself. ”Understood, Your Highness.”

Another heavy pause.

Then, a final parting remark, delivered in a tone that sent an undeniable chill through the room.

”I will not tolerate any failure.”

The connection ended.

The glow from the crystal faded into nothingness, leaving the chamber darker, colder.

The figure remained still for a long moment, staring down at the dead artifact in his hands. His pulse was steady, his expression unreadable, but in the quiet of the room, one truth settled heavily in his mind.

****

The fight was over.

With Aldricʼs severed head lying in the dirt and Lucavionʼs blood-drenched figure standing above them, the Black Veilʼs will to fight shattered.

The clatter of weapons falling to the ground continued, one after another. Surrender.

Even the strongest among them—those who had fought tooth and nail against Draven, Vyrell, and Soren—had no choice but to yield.

The spear-wielding warrior, the silent axeman, and the swift assassin—they all stood still, their eyes sharp but resigned.

They werenʼt fools.

They had fought hard, but the war had already been decided.

Draven exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. ”Tch… finally.”

Vyrell adjusted his coat, flicking the blood off his blade before sheathing it. ”A clean ending.”

Soren let out a rough chuckle, gripping his warhammer like he wasnʼt quite ready to let go yet. ”Shame. I was just getting warmed up.”

Lucavion, still standing atop the rooftop, gave a lazy stretch, his smirk unwavering. ”Well, you could always fight me next if youʼre that eager.”

Soren immediately scoffed. ”Tch. I like keeping my head attached to my shoulders, thanks.”

Draven ran a hand through his hair before turning to his men. ”Round up the prisoners. Take the high-rankers to the underground cells. The rest? Strip them of weapons, lock them up for now—weʼll decide what to do with them later.”

His men nodded and moved swiftly, restraining the surviving Black Veil fighters.

The three strongest—Aldricʼs lieutenants—offered no resistance as they were bound in heavy mana-restricting chains.

Draven eyed them carefully, watching their expressions.

Not broken. Not afraid.

Just waiting.

ʼTheyʼre still dangerous,ʼ he thought.

They would need careful handling.

Still, it didnʼt matter. Not today.

The city belonged to them now.