Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1031: The Pink Knight and the Frost Mage

Wednesday — 09:00 AM

Combat Awareness Trial — Zone C

The morning air inside the staging hall was cold enough to bite.

Not unpleasantly—just sharp, the kind of chill that tightened posture and honed breath. Students filed into their designated waiting lanes, instructors marking attendance with faintly glowing quills. The hum of the illusion domes thrummed beneath the stone floor, steady and foreboding.

Elara stepped into Lane 3.

Silent. Composed. Her hands clasped lightly behind her back, illusion-hazel eyes calm beneath the soft fall of chestnut hair Eveline had given her. She carried herself like Elowyn Caerlin should—elegant, distant, untouchable—but her heartbeat was steady in that way unique to people who weren’t easily rattled.

A handful of students already stood in her assigned group.

Three she did not recognize.

The fourth—

her breath slipped.

Not visibly. Just a slight tightening beneath her ribs, a shift of weight that no one else would notice.

The woman stood with her back to the group, speaking quietly to a proctor. Her posture was a study in strict lines: spine straight, shoulders aligned, chin lifted just enough to acknowledge rank without flaunting it.

Her hair—soft rose-pink, unmistakable in any crowd—fell past her waist in a disciplined cascade, bound with a silver clasp just above the small of her back. When she turned, the light caught the faint metallic sheen woven through the strands, making them shimmer like tempered cherry steel.

And her eyes—striking purple, sharp as an unsheathed blade—passed across the group with quiet evaluation.

Elara felt the weight of that gaze.

Not personal. Not probing.

Just… aware.

Valeria Olarion.

’So she’s here too.’

Valeria wore her uniform like armor—precise, immaculate, fitted close enough to trace athletic lines without sacrificing mobility. A sword strapped neatly along the wrist sheath lay against her forearm, the hilt angled forward in the style used by duelists who favored sudden draws.

Even in stillness, she radiated readiness.

Not a noble’s polished elegance.

A fighter’s discipline.

Elara had seen it once before—across a banquet hall crowded with lies and mana-tinted perfume. But here, without silk gowns and chandelier light, Valeria’s presence was sharper. Less adorned. More real.

One of the boys in their group shifted, whispering to his partner.

“That’s Olarion, isn’t it…? The purge knight?”

“Shut up, she can hear—”

“Don’t say it so loud—”

Valeria’s head did not turn.

But both boys fell silent anyway.

A beat of stillness followed.

Then Valeria shifted—one precise step, then another—and headed toward the small cluster that was Elara’s assigned group.

Elara felt it before she processed it.

That quiet, instinctive tightening beneath her ribs.

Recognition sharpening into something colder.

’She’s… in my group.’

Valeria closed the remaining distance with the controlled stride of someone who had spent years learning how not to waste motion. She didn’t look at Elara directly—not yet. She merely took her place at the edge of the formation, hands relaxed at her sides, as if the entire lane had rearranged itself around her presence.

And strangely—

it had.

Elara didn’t let the reaction show. She only inhaled quietly, almost imperceptibly, as the last two students made their way over.

Both in their early twenties—old enough that the tension in their posture came from lived experience, not youthful nerves.

A man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a defensive stance she recognized instantly:

someone trained to protect before he learned to attack.

And a woman beside him, lithe and precise, her bow case slung across her back with practiced familiarity.

They slowed as they reached the group—eyes flicking first to Valeria, then to Elara, then to each other.

Elara could feel the strangeness before a single word was spoken.

Not fear.

Not excitement.

Wariness.

As if they already understood that whatever group they had been placed into, it wasn’t an ordinary one.

No one spoke.

Valeria didn’t initiate introductions. She simply folded her arms lightly—not closed off, just… waiting. Testing. Watching who would step into the silence.

Elara exhaled quietly and stepped forward.

“Well,” she said softly, her voice carrying more warmth than volume, “since we’re going to be a team for… at least a little while, how about we introduce ourselves?”

A small smile—polite, nothing revealing—touched her lips.

She lifted one hand.

Mana shimmered. Cold gathered.

A thin pillar of ice spiraled upward from her palm—clean, crystal-clear, not a single fracture in its structure. It caught the white-blue light of the illusion dome runes, scattering it across her face like frost-kissed glass.

“I’m Elowyn Caerlin,” she said. “Four-star ice mage.”

Ren blinked.

Liliana’s eyes widened just slightly.

Valeria’s gaze sharpened with interest—not surprise.

Elara let the ice dissipate into mist with a soft exhale.

“Alright,” she said, “your turns.”

The tall man cleared his throat and stepped forward, giving a small half-smile that didn’t quite hide the veteran’s firmness behind it.

“Ren Aldric,” he said. “Four-star close combatant. Spear primary, short-blade secondary. I hit things until they stop getting back up.”

Liliana snorted under her breath.

“Accurate,” she murmured.

Ren shot her a flat look. “Would you like to introduce yourself instead?”

She raised both hands. “By all means, please, continue ruining your own mystique.”

Elara’s lips tugged at the corner—subtle, but genuine.

Liliana stepped forward next, hand brushing her bow case.

“Liliana Crestfall. Four-star archer. Conductive arrows, static channels, ranged control. I keep things off your backs.”

Ren muttered, “And occasionally shoot very close to my head.”

“It builds trust,” she said, deadpan.

“It builds trauma.”

Valeria’s quiet exhale almost passed for a laugh—but not quite. Her focus slid over the group, settling with measured weight.

Finally, she spoke.

“Valeria Olarion,” she said, tone low and even. “Four-star, Knight.”

She didn’t display her magic.

She didn’t need to.

The confidence in her voice was enough.

“Right…” Ren muttered under his breath.

But Liliana—

Liliana Crestfall’s reaction was immediate.

Recognition.

Her eyes widened just a fraction, breath catching in a way she tried—and failed—to hide.

“The Olarion line…” she murmured before she caught herself. “Ah—sorry. Just… wasn’t expecting a Knight cadet in a freshman trial.”

Her posture shifted unconsciously—more respectful, more wary. House Crestfall wasn’t large, but it had enough noble blood to understand exactly what it meant for an Olarion to stand beside them rather than above them.

Ren glanced at Valeria, then at Liliana. “Knight, huh? That explains the posture.”

Liliana nudged him sharply with her elbow. “Ren, please—”

“What?” he whispered. “I’m complimenting her.”

“You’re breathing near her with too much confidence.”

“I breathe like this normally.”

Elara fought the urge to smile.

Valeria didn’t.

She simply looked between the two of them with an expression that was neither amused nor annoyed—just… resigned. As if this reaction was familiar. Expected. And beneath that: the faintest trace of someone who had long since stopped trying to correct people’s assumptions.

“My lineage isn’t relevant for a trial,” Valeria said quietly.

The steadiness in her voice wasn’t defensive—it was practiced.

A line she’d delivered before.

“And yet it matters,” Liliana said before she could stop herself.

Ren groaned softly. “Lil—”

But Valeria cut the tension with nothing but silence.

Her eyes didn’t flicker.

Her expression didn’t shift.

She simply stood there, the weight of Olarion name sitting around her like cold, polished steel—acknowledged, understood, unspoken.

Elara felt the subtle change in the air.

Valeria wasn’t offended.

She was prepared.

She had felt this just now….

Just like before, how she was in the duchy.

She’d lived under its weight too long for any of this to be new.

Elara recognized the feeling.

“Formation,” Valeria said at last, moving past the topic with clean efficiency. “We need it before the dome activates.”

Ren straightened. “Right. Easiest setup: two front, one mid, one rear.”

“Frontline is obvious,” Liliana said, glancing between Valeria and Ren.

Valeria nodded once. “Aldric and I take forward pressure.”

Elara added, “I’ll hold midline. I can freeze space or cover gaps depending on the threat.”

Liliana tapped her quiver lightly. “And I’ll stay back. Ranged control works best if I’m not tripping over your boots.”

Ren snorted. “Or shooting my head.”

“Still statistically zero casualties.”

“From you, anyway.”

Just then the voice of the instructor arrived.