Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1090: Familiar Seats

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Grand Lecture Hall A looked almost exactly as Lucavion remembered it.

The same vaulted ceiling rose far above the rows of blackstone desks, its old arches wrapped in faded runic filigree and the crests of houses whose names had been carved into the Academy long before anyone thought commoners belonged beneath them. Mana-lamps hung between the arches in suspended rings, their light pale beneath the stronger morning glow entering through the upper windows, while more than a hundred students gradually filled the descending rows below.

Lucavion had already taken his seat.

This time, he had arrived early enough to avoid walking through an entire hall of people turning their heads toward him, which he considered a rare example of personal growth.

’Or exhaustion.’

Probably exhaustion.

The desk beneath his arms carried the same smooth blackstone surface as the one from Tier I, though his assigned position had moved considerably. Two days ago, he had been seated high enough to look over most of the hall. Today, his place rested closer to the center, slightly toward the eastern side, with three rows rising behind him and enough students on either side to make the entire arrangement feel considerably denser.

The anti-tampering lines had changed as well.

Thin silver traces ran beneath the stone rather than across its surface, emerging only when someone placed mana against the desk. Lucavion had tested that exactly once after sitting down, mostly because something about being told a surface was protected made touching it immediately more appealing.

The desk had responded by flashing a warning glyph.

He had behaved since.

Mostly.

His examination notice rested beneath one hand while students continued entering through the enormous doors behind him. Some carried books until the final possible moment, scanning pages as they walked. Others murmured definitions beneath their breath, and one boy several desks away had apparently decided that staring at the ceiling with closed eyes constituted revision.

Written examinations remained remarkably consistent across worlds.

Give people swords, magic, inherited bloodlines, and enough mana to level buildings, and they would still spend the final ten minutes before a test convincing themselves that one last definition might save them.

Lucavion leaned farther into his chair.

His body felt considerably better after the bath and cultivation cycle. A faint ache still followed the deeper routes of his meridians whenever he moved too suddenly, yet the Equinox core had settled into a steady rhythm, and whatever fatigue remained felt ordinary enough to ignore.

More importantly, his head felt clear.

He wanted to see what Tier II contained.

That alone remained mildly disturbing.

’Magister Selenne has clearly done something terrible to me.’

His fingers tapped once against the examination notice.

Then stopped.

Someone had taken the desk two positions ahead and to the left.

Lucavion’s gaze lifted.

Pale blond hair.

Broad shoulders held a little too straight.

One hand resting against the edge of the desk while the other arranged two approved quills beside the examination seal with unnecessary precision.

Lucavion stared for a second.

Then his eyes moved one row farther down.

Dain Velzari.

The young conjuration mage was speaking quietly to another student while reclining as far as the chair allowed, though his posture stiffened almost imperceptibly once he noticed Lucavion looking.

Interesting.

Lucavion’s gaze shifted again.

Two desks to his right, one row behind.

Saphielle Morvane.

She had already arranged everything in front of her and now sat with her hands folded neatly over the desk, her expression composed enough that anyone unfamiliar with her would have assumed she had never intentionally raised a stone pillar beneath another student’s landing foot in her life.

Lucavion blinked.

Then he looked back toward Kaireth.

Kaireth had noticed him too.

Their eyes met.

For several breaths, neither moved.

’Again?’

Lucavion glanced around the surrounding rows.

The desk assignments had clearly changed from Tier I. Students who had once occupied the upper rows now appeared near the bottom, several familiar faces had moved across the entire hall, and even the spacing between disciplines seemed different.

Yet somehow, three people from Zone B had ended up within speaking distance of him.

He rested his cheek lightly against one fist.

’Was this arranged?’

It was possible.

Considering his week, it would’ve been almost irresponsible to dismiss the thought immediately.

Still, there were simpler explanations.

The Academy called its seating system shuffled, though a shuffle and true randomness were hardly the same thing. Even back on Earth, creating complete randomness had been more complicated than people liked to pretend. Computers used seeds, physical systems used environmental noise, and most ordinary systems merely produced results random enough for whatever purpose they served, though Lucavion, or Bruce, did not have the necessary knowledge to completely understand.

In the end, Lucavion still understood it on the surface.

The Academy had additional restrictions.

Disciplines had to be distributed.

Known collaborators probably needed separation.

Students with certain accommodations required particular rows.

Invigilators needed sightlines.

Perhaps examination batches were preserved in broad groups while desk positions changed inside them.

Once enough rules were layered over a shuffle, familiar people appearing nearby stopped being particularly remarkable.

’Or someone has a sense of humor.’

Lucavion could respect that possibility too.

In either case, it hardly mattered.

Kaireth was still looking at him.

Lucavion smiled.

The reaction was immediate.

Kaireth’s jaw tightened.

The reaction was where it was at.

Some things survived every shuffle.

Lucavion lifted one hand in greeting.

”Good morning.”

Kaireth stared at him.

Dain’s conversation stopped.

Saphielle looked over.

Lucavion’s smile became warmer.

That seemed to make all three of them more suspicious.

Kaireth spoke first.

”Lucavion.”

His tone carried the restrained patience of someone who had already decided that whatever came next would irritate him.

Lucavion appreciated the confidence.

”We meet again.”

Dain leaned slightly around the student between them.

”You sound happy about it.”

”I am.”

That answer bothered him more than expected.

Lucavion’s gaze moved between the three of them before settling briefly upon the distance separating their desks.

Then he nodded approvingly.

”This arrangement is much safer.”

Silence.

Kaireth’s eyes narrowed.

Saphielle’s fingers tightened once where they rested against each other.

Dain gave him a flat stare.

Lucavion allowed another second to pass.

”Plenty of space.”

Kaireth exhaled slowly through his nose.

”Are you finished?”

”With what?”

”You know exactly what.”

Lucavion looked genuinely thoughtful.

Then his eyes dropped toward the quill resting beside Kaireth’s hand.

”Ah.”

He nodded.

”Don’t worry. I imagine even you would struggle to hit me accidentally from there.”

Dain’s face changed first.

Saphielle looked away.

Kaireth simply stared.

Lucavion could almost admire the restraint.

Two days ago, the three of them had spent an entire combat trial discovering increasingly creative ways for spells, terrain shifts, and friendly attacks to find his position while somehow missing nearly everyone else.

They all knew it.

He knew it.

More importantly, they knew that he knew.

The instructor’s convenient blindness had done little to change that.

Lucavion rested his forearms across the desk.

”What?”

Dain scoffed.

”Still talking about that?”

”Talking about what?”

The answer came so smoothly that Dain’s expression tightened.

Lucavion tilted his head.

”I was complimenting the seating.”

Kaireth’s gaze stayed on him for a long moment.

There was something different in it compared to the first time Lucavion had seen him before Tier I.

Back then, irritation had been mixed with wounded pride and the unpleasant realization that Lucavion had understood exactly what their team had attempted.

Now Kaireth looked more tired of the game than angry about losing it.

Perhaps that was progress.

Or perhaps he had simply learned that giving Lucavion visible irritation tended to reward the wrong person.

Saphielle finally spoke.

”It’s a written examination.”

Lucavion turned toward her.

”Yes.”

”You’re unlikely to be attacked.”

A faint pause followed.

Then Lucavion smiled.

”See? Already safer.”

Dain muttered something under his breath.

Lucavion failed to catch it.

A tragedy.

Before he could ask Dain to repeat himself, Kaireth spoke again.

”Just take the exam.”

Lucavion considered him.

Then he nodded.

”I was planning to.”

That seemed to take some of the momentum out of Kaireth’s irritation.

Lucavion added, almost kindly,

”Try to do well.”

Kaireth’s eyes sharpened.

There it was again.

Lucavion leaned back, satisfied.

’Much better.’

He had barely settled when the first bell sounded.

—RING.

The tone rolled down from somewhere within the ceiling, deep enough that conversations across the hall began dying almost at once.

Students turned forward.

Books closed.

Approved notes disappeared into storage compartments beneath the desks, which sealed themselves with small flashes of blue mana.

At the front of the hall, the enormous doors beside the examination platform opened.

Seven instructors entered.

Lucavion recognized two from Tier I, including the silver-haired examiner whose face still suggested that happiness was an administrative error. The others wore dark Academy robes marked with different faculty trims: Magicians’ Block silver, Strategic Studies blue-gray, Historical Doctrine deep violet, and two colors Lucavion had yet to learn.

’Promising.’

They spread through the hall with practiced efficiency while translucent ward-screens rose between the outer edges of each desk. The barriers remained clear enough for the invigilators to see through while subtly distorting the writing surface from every neighboring angle.

One instructor passed Lucavion’s row.

His eyes flicked briefly over the name plate.

Then toward Lucavion.

There was a pause.

Very small.

Lucavion smiled politely.

The instructor continued walking.

’Famous already.’

How troublesome.

The silver-haired examiner reached the center of the platform.

The hall settled completely.

”Written Evaluation Tier II will begin shortly.”

His voice carried easily through the chamber.

”This evaluation differs from Tier I in both structure and purpose. Tier I measured foundational reasoning across general Academy disciplines. Tier II measures your ability to apply established knowledge to specialized and changing conditions.”

Several students straightened.

Lucavion’s interest sharpened.

”Your examination will contain multiple applied sections. Questions may require quantitative analysis, structural interpretation, resource allocation, established magical doctrine, or discipline-specific judgment. Where reasoning is requested, unsupported conclusions will receive reduced credit regardless of correctness.”

Lucavion’s mouth twitched.

’They really do want the explanation.’

Unfortunate.

”Some problems permit multiple valid methods. You will be assessed according to the coherence of your method, the accuracy of your assumptions, and the suitability of your conclusion.”

That was better.

Much better.

Around him, quills were already being adjusted between nervous fingers.

Lucavion’s gaze briefly returned to the desk.

Conditions.

Methods.

Assumptions.

Something from Chamber 3C stirred at the back of his thoughts.

The examiner continued.

”As before, each completed section will seal once advanced. Certain reference diagrams and canonical materials will be provided where the question requires them. Information expected from prior Academy-level education will receive no supplemental reference.”

There it was.

Lucavion’s enthusiasm moderated slightly.

’Of course.’

Somewhere nearby, Dain seemed almost pleased by that part.

Lucavion decided he disliked him again.

The silver-haired examiner lifted one hand.

Across the hall, blackstone desks responded.

Silver lines brightened beneath Lucavion’s arms, spreading outward in careful geometric patterns before gathering at the center of the desk. Mana rose from the surface like mist, folded inward, and condensed into a sealed examination folio.

One appeared before every student.

Lucavion looked down at his.

The cover remained blank except for his name.

Lucavion.

The letters shimmered once.

Then settled.

His hand moved toward the quill.

The final bell rang.

—RING.

”Begin.”

Every folio in Grand Lecture Hall A opened at once.