Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

I watched as Riken moved, his body trembling with raw, untamed fury. The hatred inside him surged, twisting his face into a mask of pure rage, his claws extending, muscles coiling in preparation for a strike that held nothing but vengeance.

The air around him seemed to pulse with his anger, his mana spilling out in waves as if he could no longer contain it.

A part of me understood that feeling, that deep, simmering wrath that came from betrayal and loss. But I also knew what lay on the other side of it.

Hatred only hollows you out,

leaving nothing but an empty shell, a life swallowed by revenge and fury.

I'd seen it happen before, to others, and to myself. And I wouldn't let that fate befall this kid if I could help it.

That was not why I was here.

'These two must have crossed many lines already.'

Being a slave to the dark mage.

It wouldn't be an occupation that one would live their lives cleanly. That much was obvious.

I understood that these kids had crossed a threshold, one they couldn't simply turn back from. Their lives, twisted by captivity and deceit, had left them with scars that couldn't be erased. Normalcy was beyond their reach now.

What they needed wasn't peace but retribution,

a chance to reclaim a measure of control over their shattered lives. That was what I could give them if nothing else.

I shifted my gaze to the Shrouded Whisperer, his hand alight with dark, writhing mana as he snarled in frustration. This man was a 3-star mage by reputation, which should have made him formidable.

But I knew better—he was a dark mage operating on the fringes, with no allegiance to any organization, and that came with limitations. I'd seen enough of his spells to know he relied on corrosion, illusions, and enslavement; his magic wasn't built for raw combat but for manipulation, for bending and breaking others over time. He had spent so long hiding behind his enslaved pawns that he probably hadn't faced a true fight in years.

I took a deep breath, my focus sharpening as I felt the mana gather within me, the [Flame of Equinox] flickering to life, a controlled, simmering heat.

FLICK!

And then with a flick of my hand, I felt the flame bolt rushing forward.

And then it was gone.

The controlled blaze cut through the dark mana surrounding the Whisperer, tearing apart his defenses with swift, searing precision. But I didn't go for the final blow. No, this wasn't my victory to claim. I merely opened the path, clearing the shadows for the one who truly deserved this vengeance.

I stepped back, my eyes shifting to Riken, who stood there, trembling with fury and resolve, his claws extended as he faced the man who had stolen his life and the lives of so many others. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his eyes blazing with purpose, and I knew that he was ready.

"Go," I murmured, nodding toward his fallen master.

Riken took a step forward, his gaze locked onto the Whisperer, his expression unyielding. But before he could move, a voice broke through the silence.

"Riken!" The girl—his sister–Sena, her voice tight with fear and confusion—stared at him, her eyes wide, pleading. "What are you doing? Don't you know… our people are in his hands! He has them, Riken! We can't do this!" Her voice wavered, thick with desperation, clinging to the last threads of the lie they'd been fed.

Riken paused, his face twisting with a mixture of anger and pain as he turned to her. "No," he said quietly, his voice trembling. "They're not. They were never in his hands… It was all a lie, Sena." His voice cracked as he continued, each word heavy with the weight of a shattered belief. "I know because he didn't know… he didn't know Mune."

The girl's face softened, confusion flickering in her eyes. "Mune? Who…?" She didn't understand, couldn't, because she hadn't shared that part of her brother's life. But as she looked into Riken's eyes, seeing the raw certainty there, something in her shifted. She took a shaky breath, the trust she had in her brother slowly overpowering her fear.

Riken took another step forward, his gaze shifting back to the Whisperer, his expression hardening once more. "You took everything from us. You stole our hope, fed us lies… and you thought we'd never know." His voice was cold and steady, the fury within him focused, deadly.

The Whisperer tried to scramble backward, his hands grasping at the dark mana around him, but his spells faltered, his illusions shattering in the face of Riken's unrelenting rage.

This was Riken's moment, a chance to reclaim his life from the ashes of everything this man had burned down. And as he closed the distance, I stepped back, letting him take what he needed.

[Are you sure?] Vitaliara's voice echoed in my mind, laced with a trace of caution. I knew she could see things I couldn't—the lingering karma that clung to these two, the weight of choices they'd been forced to make even in their youth. She could sense that they weren't like other children; their lives had already been marked by darkness, their paths altered in ways that couldn't easily be undone.

I nodded to myself, letting out a quiet breath

. 'No, I'm not sure,'

I admitted, my gaze steady on Riken as he closed in on the Whisperer, a storm of resolve in his every step

. 'But I can't think of a better way for them to find closure. This man took everything from them, shaped them through lies and chains. If I deny them this…'

I hesitated, feeling the weight of it.

'They could be lost forever.'

Vitalara's voice softened, thoughtful. [Sometimes, vengeance is a hollow thing, Lucavion. But I understand… You're giving them a choice they never had before.]

'Exactly,'

I replied.

'This isn't just vengeance for them; it's a chance to reclaim something that was stolen. They deserve that much.'

Riken's sister, Sena, watched in silent awe, her hands trembling, yet she didn't move to stop him. The bond of trust between them ran deep, deeper than the fear instilled by the Whisperer's lies. And Riken—his face was filled with a quiet, determined rage as he raised his claws, finally ready to take back the life that had been stolen from him.

The Whisperer tried to cast, tried to summon whatever dark energy he had left, but his hands trembled, his spells unraveling against the strength of Riken's will. I stepped back, letting Riken finish what he needed to.

Let this be the moment he takes control,

I thought, feeling Vitaliara's presence steady beside me in agreement.

Riken advanced, his footsteps slow and deliberate, each step a silent promise of retribution. The Whisperer's eyes widened, his expression flickering between disbelief and fury as he stared at the boy he had once controlled, now defying him with an unyielding, cold rage.

"How dare you go against me!" the Whisperer spat, his voice trembling with indignation. "How dare you, Riken! Who do you think you are?" His hands scrabbled at his sides, clawing for the remnants of his failing power. "I'm the one who raised you, who gave you strength, power! Everything you have—you owe it all to me!"

But Riken's gaze remained steely, unflinching, and he didn't falter. The boy took another step forward, his fists clenched, his every movement filled with purpose.

The Whisperer's face twisted, his eyes glinting with scorn. "So what if a bunch of useless beasts were sold?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "What does it matter? They were nothing—worthless, expendable! You should be thanking me, you and your sister. I gave you purpose. I made you more than what you were!"

Riken paused, his claws flexing as his face contorted in disgust. The words sank in, stirring memories of every grueling hour of training, every lie, every forced act of obedience. His shoulders shook, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he looked upon the man who had stolen his life and twisted it into something unrecognizable.

"You took everything from us," Riken said, his voice low, barely more than a whisper, but filled with a venom that made the Whisperer shrink back. "Our family, our home, our chance at freedom… All of it, for your twisted games." He took another step, and the Whisperer stumbled, a flicker of fear finally breaking through his haughty demeanor.

"I'm not your weapon," Riken continued, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "I never was."

The Whisperer opened his mouth to speak, to snarl, but Riken didn't give him the chance. With a swift movement, he struck, claws slicing forward, the culmination of every ounce of pain, every betrayal, poured into that single blow.

The Whisperer let out a strangled scream as he fell, his face twisted in shock and horror. And as his body hit the ground, the silence that filled the room was heavy, final—a quiet victory for the two children whose lives had been stolen.

Riken stood over him, breathing heavily, his expression torn between relief and grief. The weight of his freedom settled over him, both liberating and painful as if every scar and memory he'd endured had finally found its place.

Sena approached, her eyes wide, her hands still shaking as she reached out to her brother, wordlessly acknowledging the end of their torment. I watched them, allowing them their moment, hoping that this would be the first step toward healing, toward reclaiming the lives they'd been denied.

This was their choice,

I thought, feeling Vitaliara's silent approval.

And perhaps, it's the only way forward.