Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 1034  The Pink Knight and the Frost Mage (4)

She muttered something under her breath.

Quiet. Quick. Too soft for Elara to hear.

Not a spell. Not an incantation.

A name.

A stance?

A form?

A promise?

Elara couldn’t tell.

But whatever it was—

the air responded.

Valeria’s blade rose by a fraction—

and the world seemed to narrow into that sliver of silver steel.

No glow. No flare. No dramatic surge of mana.

Just speed.

Pure speed.

The sword didn’t flash because of light—

it flashed because the eye could not keep up.

One moment Valeria stood still—

the next—

the strike was already finished.

Elara actually blinked—

stunned.

For the smallest heartbeat, she swore the sword was longer—

as if steel had extended beyond its own physical limit.

Not magically—

but through sheer velocity and angle, the illusion of reach bending around perception.

A cut so sharp the mind invented continuity where the blade had already passed.

And the Strider—

froze.

A thin, perfect line cleaved across its torso—

not glowing, not bleeding, not exaggerated—

just precise.

Then—

CRACK—

The illusion buckled.

Its chitin plates split along that single invisible seam—

clean, surgical, inevitable.

With a shuddering pulse of gold, the Strider collapsed inward, its entire form disintegrating into motes of light that drifted upward like embers in a reversed wind.

Silence pressed into the ruins.

Liliana’s jaw dropped.

Ren actually forgot to exhale for a moment.

Elara stood frozen in place, ice still blooming faintly across her palms.

Her lungs tightened.

What… was that?

Not spellwork.

Not mana reinforcement.

Not even acceleration magic.

That was—

that was swordsmanship.

Refined enough that the blade seemed to bend the world around it.

Valeria straightened, sliding her sword back to her side with quiet composure. No flourish. No pride. Not even the smallest hint of strain.

She simply murmured:

“…Return.”

And the last shimmer of gold dust settled across the stone.

Ren swallowed. “That….”

Liliana whispered, “That looked like her sword got longer.”

Elara said nothing.

Because she was still replaying the strike in her mind—

again, again, again—

trying to find the seam where motion had become something else.

Elara drew a slow, steady breath.

So that is Olarion’s sword…

She had heard of it, of course. Everyone had.

Stories whispered in noble halls about the Olarion line—

about their discipline and knighthood and how they have fallen.

After all, it was not that hard to miss that in the entrance banquet when Valeria was entangled with Lucavion.

But stories were one thing.

Seeing it…

Elara had never seen the technique in person—never seen the blade move with such terrifying clarity that the world seemed to reshape itself around it. She replayed the moment again in her mind:

The stance.

The pivot.

The cut that wasn’t a cut so much as an inevitability.

 How much of that was what she’s allowed to show…?

And how much is still hidden?

Her chest tightened—not in fear, but in recognition. ‘So there are people like this in the academy…’

Valeria didn’t glance at Ren or Liliana.

She looked only at Elara.

Not long—just a passing second.

But the weight of that second lingered.

Her purple eyes held something unreadable.

Not suspicion.

Not challenge.

Observation.

As if she was quietly filing away who Elara really was beneath the illusion.

Elara’s fingers curled subtly.

Then—

the dome pulsed.

A deep, rumbling thud rolled through the ruins, stronger than before.

Mana hit the air like a cold gust, pressure doubling in a snap.

Liliana stiffened. “Oh no…”

Ren muttered, “What the hell is that—”

Elara didn’t need to guess.

The ruins ahead tore open—

STONE—CRACKING—

light distorting—

a dozen silhouettes flickering into existence at once.

No—two dozen.

Three.

Thirty.

The field filled with shapes—some small and fast, others tall and hulking, some armored, some chitinous, some crawling, some running.

An entire swarm of constructs.

“Damn….What the hell?”

Liliana lowered into a half-crouch, bow trembling but steady enough to fire at a moment’s notice. “This isn’t a final wave—this is a field purge.”

“Whatever….”

Elara felt the mana pressure hit them like a cold current sweeping upward from their ankles to their chests. Her breath tightened. Every construct shimmered with dense illusion-threading: hardened parameters, aggressive pathing, quicker response loops.

This wasn’t one monster.

It was a system.

A battlefield compressed into a dome.

Dozens of constructs—

beasts, knights, crawlers, striders, and hybrid forms—

each one calibrated to take advantage of chaos.

Ren swallowed. “We’re not expected to actually win this, are we?”

“Most groups aren’t,” Valeria said, lifting her blade.

Her purple gaze flicked over the swarm—

calculating, dissecting, choosing.

Elara felt her heartbeat slow.

Not calm—concentrated.

‘Wide field. Multiple speeds. Layered threat angles.’

‘Liliana can’t cover everything.’

‘Ren will get overwhelmed if they break his guard.’

‘Valeria can handle three or four at once, maybe more—but not a wave this big without control.’

Her fingers curled.

‘So I give her control.’

Valeria’s voice cut through the tension.

“Elowyn.”

Elara inhaled. Frost crawled across her palms.

“We carve the field,” Valeria continued. “You restrict. I strike.”

Elara nodded once.

“Ren—hold the midline,” Valeria said. “Liliana—prioritize anything fast.”

“Got it,” Liliana breathed.

The ground beneath them trembled—

and the swarm charged.

A deafening roar of metal, claws, stone, and illusionary shrieks shook the ruins as the constructs surged forward like a living tide.

Valeria moved first.

Not to attack.

To position.

“Elowyn.”

Elara slammed her hands into the cracked stone.

[Frostfall Net.]

A massive lattice of intersecting frost-lines erupted across the battlefield—

not random, not cosmetic, but structured like a spiderweb cast across the ruins.

Beasts tripped.

Knights staggered.

Crawlers slipped and were forced into predictable arcs.

Ren’s jaw dropped. “What the—how big IS her casting range?!”

Liliana didn’t answer.

She already had three arrows nocked, crackling with static.

The swarm collided with the Frostfall Net—

and chaos narrowed into patterns.

Valeria’s blade flashed—

but not the way it had with the Strider.

This was different.

Tighter.

Closer.

More brutal.

No technique name.

No beautiful arc.

Only continuous strikes.

She severed the front line like cutting thread—

knight-forms collapsing, beasts scattering apart into motes of gold.

Elara adjusted her frost-lattice—

forcing heavier constructs to stagger into Valeria’s waiting reach,

forcing faster ones to slip toward Liliana’s line of fire.

[Glacial Thread.]

Thin lines of ice snapped upward, attaching themselves to beast limbs like ghostly tethers, pulling them out of formation.

Liliana fired—

SHZZZT—SHZZZT—SHZZZT—

three arrows in a heartbeat, each one hitting its mark.

“Elowyn—left!”

Elara pivoted—

[Iceprint.]

A sigil flashed under a charging humanoid, its footing slipping half an inch—

enough for Ren to ram his spear through its chest.

“Nice!” Ren barked.

Elara barely heard him.

Her mind was running too fast.

Every spell she cast altered the field.

Every frost-line tightened or loosened the flow.

Every fracture she deployed changed the swarm’s pathing.

She wasn’t just casting.

She was conducting.

Valeria felt it.

For the first time since the trial started—

a faint, fierce smile ghosted at the edge of her lips.

“Elowyn,” she called, “more on the right!”

Already done.

A burst of frost detonated under the right flank—

[Shiver Pulse] slowing a pack of clawed beasts long enough for Valeria to cut through them like collapsing dominos.

The swarm tried to envelope them from behind—

but Elara raised a hand—

[Glacial Spiral.]

A vortex of sharp frost rotated around their rear, pushing constructs back with a low, howling chill that mimicked a winter storm.

Ren froze. “Did she—did she just cast a defensive spiral?!”

Liliana whispered, “Four-star mages don’t do that. That’s advanced-tier shaping.”

Valeria didn’t look back.

“Elowyn is full of surprises.”

Elara’s breath caught.

But she didn’t let it show.

She simply raised her hands—

and pushed harder.

[Slipcast: Shatter Shard.]

[Snap Freeze.]

[Frost Vein.]

[Spiral Anchor.]

Every spell chained seamlessly, her casting speed faster than many instructors’.

The frost-lattice thickened, turning ruins into a battlefield designed for her—

but Valeria moved through it like she’d trained in it her whole life.

Their movements synced.

Unplanned.

Unspoken.

A beast lunged at Valeria—

Elara angled a frost line so its paw slipped—

Valeria’s blade struck the exact moment the limb buckled.

A knight swung at Elara—

Valeria intercepted before Elara even turned—

Elara redirected the shockwave with a burst of frost that sent two beasts tumbling.

Liliana gasped, “How are they—this is impossible—”

Ren, panting, laughed breathlessly. “Impossible my ass. This is genius.”

The swarm dwindled.

Ten constructs.

Seven.

Four.

Valeria finished the last knight with a downward strike—

clean, merciless.

Elara shattered the final crawler with [Fracture Bloom].

Light rained upward.

The swarm disintegrated.

And at last—

the dome fell silent.

Elara lowered her hands—

frost dripping from her fingers like melting glass.

Valeria exhaled once, blade lowering.

Liliana collapsed to a seat on the stone.

Ren fell to his knees, spear clattering beside him.

But Elara—

Elara was steady.

Her breath soft.

Her expression composed.

Valeria looked at her again—

longer this time.