Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 600: Pink Knight

The ground trembled beneath the thundering hooves of the charging warhorses. A woman rode at the front, her armor catching the light in gleaming flashes of silver and steel. Her dark cloak billowed behind her, snapping against the wind as she led the charge, a blade drawn and ready in her hand. The knights at her back followed without hesitation, their polished armor forming a sea of steel and determination. Dust rose in thick clouds from the earth as they advanced, their war cries building into a deafening roar.

Ahead, the enemy knights formed their lines, shields locked, spears angled forward. The battlefield stretched wide, open terrain with nowhere to hide—only steel, skill, and fury would determine the victor. The woman did not slow, her focus narrowing to the line of enemies before her. Her grip on the reins was steady, her warhorse responding with a powerful surge as they closed the distance.

”Shields up! Brace for impact!” a voice from the opposing ranks bellowed.

She raised her sword high, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade through flesh. ”FORWARD!”

The force of knights behind her roared in response.

”YES! CAPTAIN VALERIA!”

The impact came in a collision of bodies and steel. Horses reared, metal clashed, and cries of pain mixed with the brutal symphony of war. Valeria struck first, her sword carving through an enemyʼs raised shield, the force of the blow sending the knight staggering back. Another came at her from the left—she twisted, parrying the downward strike with ease before driving her blade forward, slipping between the weak points in his armor.

A spear thrust toward her side. She leaned, letting the tip scrape against her pauldron, then wrenched the weapon from the knightʼs grasp with a sharp flick of her wrist. He had no time to react before she drove her boot into his chest, knocking him off his horse.

All around her, the battle surged, steel meeting steel in a brutal dance. Her knights pushed forward, breaking the enemyʼs formation with relentless force. Blood stained the earth beneath them, the scent of sweat and iron thick in the air.

Valeria did not slow. She was the tip of the spear, the force that would drive through the enemy line. A knight clad in crimson armor locked eyes with her from across the chaos—his stance low, his greatsword raised in challenge.

The knight in crimson armor urged his warhorse forward, his greatsword gleaming under the overcast sky. His movements were controlled, precise—he was no reckless fool swinging blindly into the fray. He was calculating, watching her, measuring her stance.

Valeriaʼs grip tightened on her sword as she met his charge, boots braced in the stirrups. Their warhorses surged toward each other, pounding across the battlefield. The moment they came within striking distance, the knight swung first—his greatsword carving a brutal arc toward her side.

SHHNG!

Valeria twisted her upper body, the blade whistling just past her armor. She countered with a swift cut toward his exposed gauntlet. CLANG! He parried, the impact jarring through her arm. Their weapons clashed again, steel on steel, ringing out over the chaos.

ʼPeak 4-star… Heʼs skilled, but predictable.ʼ

She feinted to his left, baiting his parry—then snapped her wrist, reversing her bladeʼs momentum in a tight, deceptive cut. SCHNK! The tip of her sword nicked the crimson knightʼs shoulder, slicing through the leather straps securing his pauldron. It loosened but did not fall.

He grunted, shifting his grip. Instead of retreating, he drove his warhorse into hers, using sheer weight to throw her off balance.

THUD!

Valeria lurched as the impact rocked her seat, her horse snorting in protest. The knight capitalized, raising his greatsword overhead for a downward strike meant to split her helm in two.

She let go of her reins.

As the blade came down, she leaned back, almost parallel to the saddle, the tip of his sword missing her face by inches. WHOOSH! As soon as it passed, she snapped upright and lashed out with her own blade.

SHNK!

Her sword carved through the straps of his damaged pauldron, sending it clattering to the ground.

The knight hissed, his movements stiffening. Valeria could see it now—his left side was exposed, his armor compromised. She pressed the attack.

ʼHeʼll guard his weak spot. Iʼll strike where he thinks I wonʼt.ʼ

She feigned another swing toward his left—he instinctively shifted his greatsword to intercept—then, in the same instant, she dropped low, hooking her boot around his stirrup. With a sharp yank, she pulled.

CRACK!

The knight lost his balance. His warhorse reared, and he tumbled from the saddle, crashing onto the blood-soaked earth with a thunderous THUD!.

Without hesitation, Valeria dismounted, landing smoothly beside him. The crimson knight groaned, rolling onto his knees, but she was already moving.

Her sword flashed downward.

CLANG!

He barely raised his weapon in time, catching her strike. Sparks burst from the impact. He forced himself to his feet, swinging his greatsword in a wide horizontal sweep—FWSSH! She ducked, the blade slicing empty air above her head.

Before he could recover, she surged forward, twisting her body into a brutal upward slash.

SCHKK!

Her sword cut across his chestplate, a deep gouge splitting the metal. He staggered, his grip faltering. Valeria seized the moment. She turned her blade, gripping it with both hands—then drove the pommel straight into his helm.

CRACK!

The force sent him crashing to the ground. His greatsword slipped from his hands, landing with a dull thump beside him.

Panting, Valeria stood over him, sword raised, eyes locked on his heaving form.

”Yield,” she commanded, her voice like steel.

The crimson knight groaned, coughing, his body too battered to rise. Slowly, his gauntleted hand lifted—then struck the ground once, twice, in surrender.

Valeria exhaled through her nose, stepping back.

Valeria turned her head, her gaze shifting past the battlefield to the looming castle that stretched across the horizon. Its stone walls stood tall and imposing, the banners of the opposing forces still fluttering in defiance. Yet, even from here, she could see the tide of battle shifting in her favor.

Her knights, alongside the soldiers entrusted to her by her father and Marquis Vendor, had pressed deep into enemy lines. The once-disciplined formations of their foes had fractured, their retreat evident in the way they desperately tried to regroup. Bodies littered the ground—fallen knights, both friend and foe, painting the earth in streaks of crimson.

And there, amidst the chaos, the enemyʼs strongest warrior—the 5-star Vassal—had been subdued.

He was on his knees, his heavy armor dented, his weapons stripped from him. Several of her knights surrounded him, their blades held steady, though they seemed wary. Even beaten, even disarmed, a warrior of his caliber was still dangerous.

Valeria exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders before glancing down at the crimson knight she had just bested. His breaths were labored, but he was still conscious. She could respect that—holding onto oneʼs will even in defeat. But he was no longer her concern.

She turned, scanning the battlefield until her eyes landed on a familiar figure. ”Ser Orin!” she called out.

A knight in silver and black armor strode toward her, his sword still stained from battle. ”Captain.”

”Watch over this one,” she said, gesturing toward the crimson knight. ”Make sure he doesnʼt try anything foolish. If he does, cut him down.”

Ser Orin nodded, stepping forward as two more knights moved in to assist. Valeria gave them no further glance.

Her eyes were fixed on the castle.

It loomed in the distance, an iron beast that still stood defiant against her assault. The main gate was closed, its drawbridge lifted, yet she could see movement along the battlements—archers repositioning, soldiers bracing for the inevitable siege.

They would not surrender easily.

Valeria clicked her tongue, her fingers tightening around the reins. Another prolonged fight. Another needless waste of life.

She did not want that.

Her warhorse moved beneath her, hooves pressing firm into the blood-stained earth as she urged it forward. The sound of battle was fading now—her forces had gained the upper hand, and the enemy knights had begun either retreating or surrendering. Yet, even with their forces crumbling outside the walls, those within the castle still clung to their weapons.

ʼFools. Do they even know what theyʼre fighting for?ʼ

Her gaze remained fixed on the looming fortress, her mind already set. If she could prevent further bloodshed, she would.

She rode ahead, passing by her knights, ignoring the distant cries of the wounded, and stopped just outside the castleʼs main gate. There, she raised her sword high into the air, her voice ringing with authority.

”BARON!”

Her voice echoed against the towering walls. The soldiers upon the battlements stilled, their bows half-drawn, their spears held uncertainly in their hands.

”BARON GODFREY!” she called again, her tone cutting through the uneasy silence that followed. ”You stand accused of heinous crimes! By decree of Marquis Vendor, you are under arrest!”