Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

The disciples of the Cloud Heavens Sect watched Lucavion's fight with wide-eyed focus, their expressions a mix of astonishment and intrigue. Each had anticipated a drawn-out battle, given that Lucavion's aura suggested he was, at best, a peak 2-star Awakened. Yet, what they had just witnessed defied their expectations.

"That… technique," one of the disciples murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might disrupt the memory of his movements. "He didn't even summon his mana fully."

Another disciple nodded, his gaze still locked on Lucavion, who stood relaxed, his estoc lightly resting at the defeated man's throat. "He read through every move as if the fight was choreographed. Six seconds… That's all it took."

For disciples trained in rigorous swordsmanship and the arts of combat, the display was nothing short of impressive. They were all 3-star Awakened, well-versed in the basics and subtleties of swordplay, but none of them could say with confidence that they would have dispatched an opponent so effortlessly.

"It's not his strength," a disciple beside them remarked, her brow furrowed in thought. "It's his form and precision. His understanding of the blade. Even though he's only a peak 2-star Awakened, he wielded his estoc like an extension of himself."

They exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing among them. It was rare to see someone at his level dispatch an opponent so cleanly without relying on raw power or overwhelming mana.

Finally, Zerah, the Senior Disciple, spoke up, her eyes narrowing as she watched Lucavion's form. "Skill like that… it shouldn't be ignored. He might not have the raw power of a 3-star Awakened, but he's clearly someone we should keep an eye on." She looked at her disciples, her tone authoritative.

After the previous day's confrontation with Lucavion, Zerah and the other disciples hadn't wasted any time. The moment they were alone, Zerah had quietly ordered a background check on him. Information within this world traveled at its own pace, and she knew it would likely be three or four days before any details came back. But with the tournament stretching over several days, that wait was acceptable.

In the meantime, they had approached a tournament official under the pretense of innocent curiosity. A few well-placed words about one of their disciples "taking a fancy" to the young swordsman, coupled with a small but persuasive amount of gold, ensured they'd get what they wanted. The official, his eyes gleaming with understanding, had been more than willing to oblige.

"A man named Lucavion's next match?"

he had said with a casual grin, tucking the gold discreetly into his sleeve.

"I'll get that for you."

That was exactly how they ended up here, as they did not want to look at all those lists that were pinned on the bulletin board of the tournament center.

And now, at this right moment, Zerah had an outline of this guy named Lucavion.

'Heh...Arrogant bastard….Even if you are somehow talented, with your measly strength like this, you think you can act like that before us?'

She thought, remembering the fight.

Yesterday, Zerah had mulled over the encounter with Lucavion, and an unsettling thought had crossed her mind. She had replayed the incident from a more detached perspective, analyzing his timing. The moment he'd intervened—just as Valeria seemed close to engaging with them—felt too precise, too intentional, as if he had planned to obstruct them from the start. The realization only fueled her irritation.

'An arrogant bastard through and through,'

she thought, her eyes narrowing at the memory. He carried himself with the typical swagger of a "sect genius," the kind commonly seen in the lower-ranked sects, where anyone with a hint of skill was put on a pedestal. His precision in the fight, while admirable, only confirmed her theory. In a low-ranked sect, Lucavion's sword skills would surely be considered remarkable enough to earn him an inflated sense of superiority.

Zerah's gaze hardened as she considered his intentions.

'Of course,'

she thought, the pieces falling into place,

'that insufferable arrogance was because he's used to admiration. And now he's likely got his eye on Valeria—typical, really. Men like him, spoiled by attention, always see women as prizes to be won.'

The more she thought about it, the clearer the picture became.

Zerah's jaw tightened as her simmering disdain for Lucavion intensified, her inner resentment flaring at the thought of him—a mere disciple of some likely insignificant sect—daring to cross paths with them so boldly.

The audacity was almost laughable, but more than that, it was infuriating. For her, who had been raised with discipline and tradition in one of the most respected sects, men like Lucavion embodied the worst kind of arrogance. Spoiled by superficial talent and minimal competition, they strayed from order and respect due to those of higher standing.

'Men like him,'

she thought darkly, her hands curling into fists at her sides

, 'think themselves untouchable, flaunting their skills and treating everything—everyone—like a conquest to be taken. They forget that there are rules, boundaries they don't get to cross just because they think they're exceptional.'

The more she dwelled on it, the more her anger grew. The Cloud Heavens Sect had earned its status through generations of discipline, countless hours of training, and sacrifices made by their disciples.

After all, in the time when the Cloud Heavens Sect acted up, at that time, the traditional values of the world were rather strict when it came to women.

Most of them were not even allowed to cultivate and form a core, let alone other things. It was the founding Matriarch, who had gone against the will of the whole world and created the sect. She had put her blood and sweat into achieving a position in this world, which was why they could cultivate this freely.

This legacy was the heart of Zerah's conviction. The Cloud Heavens Sect had not only risen from the blood and sweat of its founding Matriarch, who had defied the entire world to give women a place of power, but it had also thrived in a society that had long stifled women's potential.

Her Matriarch had sacrificed everything to secure that right, carving out a space where women could cultivate freely, form cores, and become forces to be reckoned with. Every disciple who walked their halls carried this legacy, a living testament to the Matriarch's defiance and strength.

And yet, men like Lucavion—men who never faced such barriers, who strutted around as if the world were theirs by birthright—had the audacity to act as though they understood power, as though they had truly earned their place.

Everything had been handed to them, opportunities lining their paths, unchallenged by prejudice or restriction.

Zerah's anger hardened into determination as she thought of Valeria.

Talented, strong,

and with a spirit that reminded her of the sect's founding principles. Valeria was the kind of woman who deserved to stand with them, to carry the legacy forward—not to be wasted around men like Lucavion, who saw women as mere prizes or allies to charm.

'Yes,'

Zerah thought, her gaze steady with resolve,

'Valeria belongs with us, among those who understand the value of true discipline, of earned respect.'

If she could guide Valeria toward their side, away from the distractions of arrogant men, the Cloud Heavens Sect would gain a worthy ally and sister.

A slow, cold smile spread across her face as she settled her resolve.

'If you refuse to follow the order of things, then don't blame me for being… impolite.'

Lost in her thoughts, she was a little late to notice that someone stepped up beside her, the faint shuffling of robes snapping her back to the present. She glanced over to see one of her fellow disciples watching her with a curious, almost mischievous smile.

"Senior Sister, what's on your mind?" the disciple asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Zerah blinked, quickly masking her previous thoughts with a practiced, composed expression. "Nothing of consequence," she replied smoothly, her voice steady and calm. She gave a slight shake of her head, casting off the intensity of her inner resolve.

The disciple chuckled, not pressing further, though her gaze lingered knowingly. "We were just discussing something, Senior Sister," she continued her tone light. "Since we've all finished our fights for the day… shouldn't we head somewhere for a drink? There's this rumored spot nearby, and I hear some rather interesting…

pets

gather there."

A sly glint shone in her eyes, and the other disciples nearby exchanged amused glances, clearly in on the plan. Zerah could feel the playful tension among them; this wasn't an unusual suggestion. After the heat and rigor of the fights, some relaxation and diversion were commonplace.

After all this type of freedom was what the world owed them, after all years of oppression, wasn't it?

Zerah's lips curved into a faint smirk as she felt a slight tingle 'somewhere.'

"A drink, then," she said, her tone approving. "Lead the way."

----------A/N-----------

This chapter should give you a complete insight into what kind of Sect the Cloud Heavens is, and I will not waste any more chapters regarding this.