Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Lira gritted her teeth and pressed on, unleashing her full arsenal of techniques. Each one carried the refined elegance of the Cloud Heavens Sect, honed over years of practice. And yet, none of them so much as grazed her opponent.

Falling Gale Blade

Lira\'s blade descended in a series of fluid, spiraling slashes, each strike amplified by wind mana. The technique was designed to disorient and overwhelm opponents with its speed and unpredictability. Yet Lucavion moved between the strikes as if he could see the wind itself, his estoc batting her blade aside with ease.

"Your wind has no bite," he remarked. "Just a breeze pretending to be a storm."

Rising Feather Step

Lira launched herself into the air, her blade gleaming as she executed a series of aerial strikes. Her footwork was immaculate, each movement perfectly balanced to land with devastating precision. Lucavion sidestepped her descent effortlessly, his blade meeting hers with a casual flick.

"Graceful," he said, his tone almost admiring. "But all for show."

Stormcall Arc

She channeled her mana into her blade, creating a wide arc of condensed energy that roared through the air toward him. The sheer force of the technique sent a gust through the arena, and the crowd gasped as the arc closed in on Lucavion. He deflected it with a single, sharp movement, the energy dissipating harmlessly.

"Impressive in size," he commented, "but empty in purpose."

Dancing Tempest Waltz

Lira\'s strikes became a blur of movement, her blade dancing around her as she closed the distance with unparalleled speed. It was a technique meant to create openings through relentless pressure. Yet, Lucavion matched her pace, his estoc always where it needed to be, meeting her blade and disrupting her flow.

"A dance without rhythm," he mused. "You\'re chasing the steps without feeling the music."

Heaven\'s Edge Fang

She unleashed a piercing thrust imbued with her Intent, the force behind it sharp enough to shatter lesser defenses. The crowd gasped as the sheer pressure of the strike cracked the arena floor beneath her. But Lucavion tilted his body ever so slightly, her blade missing by a hair\'s breadth. His estoc snapped upward, redirecting her momentum harmlessly.

"A predator\'s fang, dull and misaligned," he said. "A pity."

Veil of Whirling Petals

Her final technique summoned a storm of wind blades, dozens of shimmering edges surrounding her as she launched them toward him in a cascading assault. The arena filled with the sound of slicing air as the crowd held its breath. Lucavion moved through the storm as if the blades weren\'t even there, each step precise, his estoc dispersing every strike aimed at him. Your journey continues on M V L

"Beautiful," he said, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "But meaningless without purpose."

By the end of her sixth technique, Lira\'s breath came in short gasps, sweat dampening her brow. She glared at him, her frustration and disbelief etched into her features. Her strikes had been relentless, each one carrying the weight of her rank and the pride of her sect, and yet, he remained unscathed.

Lucavion, on the other hand, stood as calm as ever, his breathing steady, his stance relaxed. His estoc, coated with only a faint layer of mana, looked almost fragile compared to her glowing blade. And yet, he had deflected everything she\'d thrown at him with an ease that made her feel like a novice.

"You\'ve tried so hard," he said, his voice carrying just enough mockery to sting. "But there\'s no refinement in anything you\'ve done."

Her blade trembled in her grip as his words cut deeper than any wound could.

"You don\'t understand the essence of your techniques," he continued, his smirk softening into something almost pitying. "You wield them as if learning the motions was enough. But techniques are more than that. They require understanding, precision, purpose. You lack all of it."

Lira\'s vision blurred with anger, her chest tightening as the weight of his words settled over her. She raised her blade again, but Lucavion simply shook his head, stepping back and lowering his estoc slightly.

"This isn\'t a fight," he said, his voice low and calm. "It\'s a demonstration of everything you\'ve failed to grasp."

The crowd fell silent, their eyes fixed on the arena as Lucavion\'s words echoed through the space. And for the first time in the tournament, the Silent Thunder stood frozen, her confidence shaken to its core.

Lira\'s chest heaved as she stood motionless, her blade trembling slightly in her grip. The weight of the crowd\'s stares bore down on her. Her gaze flicked around the arena, taking in the expressions of those watching her. Some spectators wore narrowed eyes filled with suspicion, others whispered among themselves, their lips moving too quickly for her to decipher. A wave of unease washed over her, tightening her throat.

\'Why are they looking at me like this?\' she thought, her grip tightening on her sword. \'How did this happen? I\'m supposed to be the victor, the one they admire, not... this.\'

Her gaze snapped back to Lucavion, who stood before her, calm and composed as if he hadn\'t just humiliated her in front of thousands. His smirk widened as her eyes locked onto his, her fury barely contained. He tilted his head, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"What?" he asked with mock innocence. "Are you waiting for the poison to act or not?"

Lira\'s eyes widened, the sharp intake of her breath betraying her shock. For a fleeting moment, panic crossed her face, her carefully constructed composure cracking. \'How does he know?\' she thought, her mind racing. That was exactly what she had been thinking. She had counted on the poison to weaken him further, to give her the upper hand if the fight dragged on. But how could he possibly know that?

Lucavion\'s smirk deepened, his gaze gleaming with a quiet, cutting triumph. "Did you think I didn\'t know?" he said, his tone light but carrying an edge that made her blood run cold. "After all, isn\'t this exactly what the Cloud Heavens Sect excels at?"

Lira\'s heart sank, her grip on her sword faltering for a split second. She didn\'t respond, but the slight tremor in her hand betrayed her growing unease. The crowd murmured louder now, their whispers an oppressive cacophony in her ears.

Lucavion took a step closer, his estoc still resting at his side, his movements deliberate and unthreatening. Yet every word that followed felt like a strike to her core.

"Poisoning people, drugging them, and then taking advantage of them," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Especially men, isn\'t that right?"

The crowd gasped audibly, the weight of his accusation hanging heavy in the air. Lira\'s face burned, her anger boiling over, but beneath it was a flicker of fear. She opened her mouth to retort, to deny, to strike back with words as sharp as her blade, but nothing came out.

The memory of her mother\'s instructions, the image of her sect\'s carefully maintained reputation, flashed through her mind. She couldn\'t let this escalate. She couldn\'t let his words define her, define the sect. And yet, she had no idea how to regain control of the narrative spiraling away from her.

Lucavion tilted his head slightly, his smirk softening into something cruelly pitying. "What\'s wrong, Silent Thunder? Cat got your tongue?" His voice dropped, his next words meant for her ears alone. "Or are you too busy wondering when the poison will actually do its job?"

Her blade trembled in her grasp, the weight of his gaze, his words, and the crowd\'s suspicion pressing down on her like a storm she couldn\'t escape. Lira knew she had to act, but for the first time in her life, she didn\'t know how.

Lucavion\'s smirk widened, his confidence radiating like a blade poised to strike. He lowered his estoc slightly, tilting his head as if studying her—a predator toying with prey. His voice was calm, but the words that followed cut through the growing tension like a knife.

"If that\'s what you\'re waiting for," he said, his tone light but sharp enough to sting, "then you shouldn\'t waste your time. It won\'t come."

Lira\'s breath hitched, her eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about?" she demanded, though the faint tremor in her voice betrayed her growing unease.

"You\'re waiting for it to take effect, aren\'t you? Hate to disappoint you, Silent Thunder, but it\'s gone. I got rid of it already."

Her eyes widened, and for a split second, panic flashed across her face. \'Impossible,\' she thought, her grip on her blade tightening. \'He can\'t have known. He can\'t have removed it...\'

The crowd murmured louder now, a mixture of gasps and whispers rippling through the arena. Lira\'s chest tightened as she felt their judgmental eyes on her, their faith in her wavering with every word Lucavion spoke. Her sect\'s reputation, her own pride—both were being shredded before her very eyes.

Lucavion stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His smirk never wavered, his gaze piercing as he lowered his blade even further, a deliberate gesture of disdain. He gestured toward her with a faint flick of his wrist, as though inviting her to strike.

"Come," he said, his voice dropping low enough to be heard by her alone, though the venom in it was unmistakable. "For the first time in your life, come and get something on your own. Try, Lira Vaelan. Try to take something without parasiting off someone else."

Her fury ignited, a blazing fire that burned away her composure. His words struck at the very core of what she prided herself on, cutting through the layers of control and poise she had so carefully cultivated. Her knuckles whitened around her blade, her entire body tensing as her mana surged in response.

"You think you know me?" she spat, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "You think you understand what I\'ve fought for? You\'re nothing—a worm crawling in the dirt, and I\'ll crush you like one."

But Lucavion didn\'t flinch. His smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with an infuriating calm that only stoked her anger further. "Then do it," he said simply, his voice a cold, taunting whisper. "Come and prove it."