Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Aeliana could barely breathe.

The world was slipping—flickering between two realities, both equally surreal, equally horrifying.

The cavern. The Kraken.

And beyond that, the strange, dream-like dimension that clawed at the edges of her vision.

There was something watching.

Waiting.

⍀☌⋔⏃⟒⍀☌⏃⟒⍀⍜⌰⌿☌⏃⟒⍀⍜☌⏃⟒⍀☌⏃⟒…

The noises filled her head, incomprehensible whispers that slithered through her thoughts like oil, twisting around her mind, sinking into her very being.

She didn't understand—couldn't understand—but they were there, pressing against her skull like a thousand unseen hands.

Yet, despite that, her eyes kept returning to him.

Lucavion.

Standing before that thing.

Before the Kraken.

It was huge. Unfathomably massive. A creature born of nightmares, its grotesque form pulsating with an abyssal energy that made the very air vibrate. It radiated power, its sheer presence enough to crush lesser beings into the ground.

And he was still there.

Facing it.

Fighting it.

Her body burned, her cursed veins pulsing, her breath ragged, but her mind couldn't let go of a single, brutal thought.

'Why is he fighting?'

This thing—this monster—was after her.

Not him.

So why?

Why wasn't he just letting it take her?

Why was he standing there, blade drawn, grin sharp enough to cut through the very fabric of existence itself?

She hated him.

She hated him.

Didn't she?

Didn't she?

'I hate him…'

The thought echoed in her head, trying to take root, trying to cling to her like a lifeline. But even as she forced herself to hold onto it, she saw it—

That look in his eyes.

That madness.

That smile.

A twisted, exhilarated grin spread across his face, his dark eyes alight with something wild, unhinged.

Like he was enjoying this.

Like the fight itself was what mattered.

Like everything—this place, this moment, her suffering—

Like it was all just a game to him.

Her stomach twisted.

Her vision blurred.

The whispers clawed at her mind again.

But she couldn't look away.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

*******

The Kraken loomed before me, its abyssal eyes gleaming with something beyond primal hunger. Recognition. Understanding. A knowing that stretched past the physical, past the battlefield, past the clash of blade and limb.

And beneath that knowing, I felt it.

A pulse. A tether. A resonance deep within my core, thrumming in time with the eldritch energy swirling around the creature. It wasn't just a monster, not just another obstacle to be cut down. No—this thing was something else.

And it was calling to me.

'Indeed… this sensation…'

It was the same as when I had first forged my core, when I had shattered my limits under the weight of [Devourer of Stars]. That dream—that vision—where countless stars burned across an infinite void. And mine?

Mine was black.

Even then, I had known. There was something else in me, something beyond the system of cultivation I had been taught. Gerald had felt it. Master had warned me of it.

And now, standing before this thing—this grotesque convergence of abyssal energy—I felt it again.

Familiar.

For the first time since the battle began, I hesitated.

And in that hesitation, the Kraken struck.

BOOM!

A massive tentacle lashed out, warping the very air with its sheer force. My body moved on instinct—too late. The impact grazed my side, pain flaring sharp and electric as the force sent me skidding across the ruined stone.

I landed in a crouch, exhaling through my teeth. The pain settled, a dull ache already fading into the background, pushed aside by something sharper.

Excitement.

'Heh. Sloppy.'

And yet, my lips curled into a smirk.

Because now, I was sure.

This wasn't just an anomaly. It wasn't just some overgrown sea horror with regeneration too annoying for its own good.

The thing inside the Kraken—the thing that resonated with me—was something more. Something deeper.

Something waiting.

I straightened, rolling my shoulder as the starlight along my estoc pulsed, faint embers of void-light flickering through the air. The Kraken reared back, its remaining limbs writhing, but its abyssal gaze never left mine.

It knew.

And so did I.

"As expected," I murmured to myself, absently tapping my estoc against my shoulder, my voice barely louder than the crackle of abyssal energy in the air. "When it comes to lore and fantasy, a romance-fantasy novel falls short in expansion."

The Kraken loomed, its grotesque form shifting, distorting, as though it too was listening. The resonance between us deepened, the pulse in my core growing stronger. The weight of the moment pressed against my skin, but my mind was elsewhere.

'Shattered Innocence.'

In the original novel, this entire event—the emergence of a Kraken in the Thaddeus Duchy—had barely been a footnote. A brief mention, a passing reference, nothing more. The book never explored it, never lingered on the details of the destruction it wrought, the chaos it left in its wake.

Because it didn't matter.

Not to the story. Not to Elara's path.

The book skipped over it entirely, jumping straight to the academy arc after her banishment, using fragmented flashbacks to hint at the devastation that had unfolded. Stay updated via My Virtual Library Empire

A Duchy nearly destroyed.

A Duke who almost lost his right arm.

A shift in the political landscape, power scrambling to fill the void left in the wake of the disaster.

And, most importantly—Elara.

The novel barely scratched the surface of what this event did to her. How it shaped her, how it carved itself into her story like an unspoken scar.

It was a choice of the author, and it could be understood.

I could understand it.

The choice of the author. The way the story was structured.

'Shattered Innocence' had always been more about Elara than the world she existed in. It was her journey, her suffering, her growth. Everything else—the political shifts, the tragedies of others—was simply background noise, events meant to propel her forward.

And I could respect that.

After all, a tightly woven narrative had its strengths. A story that didn't meander, that stayed focused on its protagonist, was compelling in its own way.

But at the same time…

It didn't do her justice.

Elara had taken my place in the original story. She was the one who had fought the Kraken. The one who had somehow found Aeliana.

And she was the one who had befriended her.

Aeliana—who was never your typical noble lady. Who didn't fit into the mold of delicate refinement the world expected of her. Who carried her scars with an inherent resentment, because no matter how strong she was, no matter how much she endured—there was always someone who had it easier.

And that someone was Elara.

Their dynamic had been interesting.

Elara, the protagonist, blessed by fate. Beautiful, powerful, beloved. And Aeliana, born cursed, carrying the weight of her affliction in every fiber of her being.

Of course, she had resented her.

And yet, somehow, they became friends.

Not because Elara pitied her, nor because Aeliana wanted to be saved. But because Elara was stubborn in the way only a protagonist could be. And Aeliana, for all her resentment, found herself intrigued.

The book had painted their friendship in fragmented moments, scattered through flashbacks—small glimpses into the past, scattered breadcrumbs meant to make Elara's later grief more impactful.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

It was never about Aeliana.

It was about Elara's loss. About the pain of losing a friend, rather than the depth of the bond itself.

And now, standing here—living in the unwritten pages of this world—I found myself irritated by that fact.

Because I was seeing Aeliana in real-time. I was watching her struggle, watching the way her body trembled, the way her breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps. I could feel the weight of the whispers clawing at her mind, see the way she refused to look away from me, even as she drowned in whatever hell her body was forcing her through.

'It may be a bit cruel and hard for you….'

The words I had spoken might have been harsh.

I knew how hurtful they can be.

'But, you see….Hatred is a strong feeling.'

With a condition like hers, I wanted her ending to be different.