Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 907: BOOM!

Marisse held his gaze for a long, silent moment, and then, with a small incline of her head, turned away.

Her departure was brisk—measured steps, robes shifting in sharp lines, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in her wake. The students who had followed her moved with her, their whispers starting almost before they cleared the archway.

Lucavion didn’t linger either. His smirk faded into something more neutral, his eyes lowering as though whatever spark had lit him a moment ago had simply been switched off. Without another word, he stepped back into the dispersing crowd, his posture relaxed and unreadable.

For a moment, the yard seemed to still—students glancing between Selenne, Lucavion, and the empty space where Marisse had been, each of them cataloging the scene for later gossip.

Selenne remained in place, her gaze tracking Lucavion’s retreat.

Her violet eyes caught the light, locking with his pitch-black ones for the briefest of moments when he glanced back over his shoulder. There was no heat in her expression—only the faint, assessing glint of someone who had taken note of him and filed the observation away.

Whatever she thought, she didn’t speak it aloud.

She simply turned, her cloak moving in a precise arc, and addressed her group in the same calm, steady tone as before.

”Let us leave as well.”

Selenne’s voice was crisp, final. She pivoted smoothly, her cloak whispering against the stone as she led the group toward the archway.

The students fell in behind her, the murmurs of the courtyard dimming with each step they took away from the scene. The air felt cooler beyond the Martial Arts block, though the tension still clung faintly, like the aftertaste of strong wine.

Elara walked in silence near the rear of the group, her gaze drawn—almost unwillingly—toward the lone figure of Lucavion as he drifted into the crowd. He didn’t speak to anyone. Didn’t look around. He simply moved as though the confrontation had been nothing more than an idle moment in his day.

Her eyes narrowed.

Why?

Why provoke Marisse at all?

Why speak like that in front of everyone—staking himself into a wager with no hesitation?

Her mind replayed the image of him from the night before, standing at the banquet table, tossing barbed words toward the Crown Prince of Arcanis as though royal titles were just decorative flourishes to him.

And now—today—standing against a professor.

It wasn’t carelessness. The way he spoke, the way he pressed until they reacted, it was... deliberate.

For what reason, though?

Her gaze lingered on his back until the crowd fully swallowed him.

Lucavion.

She let the name turn over in her mind, tasting the weight of it.

What are you trying to do?

Elara wasn’t the only one watching Lucavion’s disappearing figure.

Marian’s eyes tracked him with open skepticism, her arms folding as she muttered under her breath, ”Honestly... does he ever stop? Yesterday it was the Crown Prince, today it’s a professor. Tomorrow—what? The Headmaster?”

Aurelian gave a quiet, almost humorless chuckle. ”Wouldn’t put it past him.” His gaze was steady, calculating, but there was the faintest shake of his head. ”It’s like he’s walking around looking for trouble to bite into.”

Selphine glanced between them, her brows drawn. ”No... it’s not just random trouble. He doesn’t waste words. Every time, he aims for people who hold power—then pushes until they show something they didn’t want anyone to see.” She paused, then frowned. ”Still... he’s exhausting to watch.”

The twins, predictably, had no shortage of opinions.

Riven smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. ”I think he likes the sound of his own voice.”

Lysa scoffed. ”He likes chaos, Riven. That’s different. He stirs the pot, watches everyone scramble, and somehow comes out of it looking like he planned the whole thing.”

”Which he probably did,” Aurelian added dryly.

Cedric, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. His voice was low, thoughtful. ”You’re all missing something. He’s not just provoking for fun.” His gaze was fixed in the direction Lucavion had gone. ”He’s watching how people react. Testing them. Seeing who bites and who doesn’t.”

Marian gave him a sideways look. ”That’s one way to justify picking fights.”

Cedric didn’t argue, but his mouth curved faintly, almost grimly.

Cedric’s gaze lingered on the path Lucavion had taken.

”He’s like that indeed,” he murmured.

Aurelian glanced over. ”What?”

Reilan—no, Cedric—looked up, his expression smoothing into something unreadable. ”Nothing,” he said quickly, voice even.

”Hm... okay,” Aurelian muttered, though his tone carried the weight of someone filing the moment away for later.

No one pressed further, and the group continued in silence.

The cobblestone path curved eastward, the shadow of the Martial Arts block giving way to the lighter, more open stretch of the Academy’s east gardens. The sharp tang of metal and faintly sweet, herbal scents began to drift into the air—an unmistakable herald of their next destination.

Ahead, the Alchemy grounds came into view: long, low-roofed buildings flanking a central courtyard, their chimneys releasing slow curls of tinted smoke into the sky. Apprentices in protective coats moved between them, carrying crates of dried ingredients, sealed vials, and oddly-shaped apparatuses that gleamed in the sun.

Selenne didn’t slow her pace. ”Stay together,” she instructed, her tone brisk. ”The alchemists dislike interruptions.”

The group followed, the earlier tension not fully dispersed, each step carrying them deeper into the mix of earthy scents, chemical sharpness, and the faint hum of active magic in the air.

The air grew thicker with every step into the Alchemy grounds—layered scents of dried roots, sharp mineral dust, and the faint metallic tang of transmuted essence weaving together into something both alien and oddly clean.

The grounds themselves stretched wider than Elara had expected. Broad, pale-stone walkways crisscrossed a sprawling courtyard, lined on either side by large, rectangular buildings with reinforced glass windows. Tall chimneys puffed threads of blue, green, and faint gold smoke into the sky, each plume curling and dissipating before it could drift too far.

Selenne stepped through the archway first, her violet cloak catching in a soft draft that carried the scent of simmering decoctions. She didn’t break stride as she began to speak.

”This,” she said, her voice carrying easily across the open space, ”is the Alchemy block—responsible for all potion craft, elixirs, material transmutation, and reagent refinement within the Academy.”

Elara’s gaze swept the grounds. The buildings here were easily as large as those in the Martial Arts or Magicians’ blocks, yet the cobblestone paths between them felt strangely empty. A handful of students moved about—each wearing heavy leather aprons, gloves, or enchanted goggles—but their numbers were sparse compared to the crowded training yards and lecture halls they had seen earlier.

It gave the place a sense of breathing room... though paired with the low, steady hum of distillation arrays and bubbling apparatuses behind the glass, it felt almost eerily quiet.

Selenne gestured to the nearest building, where a faint purple glow pulsed from behind the windowpanes.

”You may be wondering,” she said evenly, ”why there are far fewer students here than in the other blocks.”

Her gaze lingered on the group for a moment, as if weighing whether to elaborate—

BOOM!

The ground shuddered beneath their feet, a deep concussive blast rolling through the courtyard. A plume of emerald-green smoke surged from the far end of the block, spiraling upward like a living thing.

Before a single ember could escape the source, glowing sigils flared to life in the air around them—thin lines of pale gold etching themselves into a dome that shimmered faintly under the sunlight. The barrier snapped into place in less than a heartbeat, the explosion’s heat and shrapnel folding inward, snuffed out like a candle trapped under glass.

Selenne hadn’t moved an inch.

Her cloak lay still at her sides, her posture straight, her expression unreadable—only the faint light fading from the formation stones in the courtyard suggested she had even acknowledged the blast.

The air hummed for a moment as the containment field dissipated, leaving behind the faint smell of burnt herbs and acrid minerals.

”I guess that answers our question....”