SHATTERED INNOCENCE: TRANSMIGRATED INTO A NOVEL AS AN EXTRA

“Do you think,” Lucavion continued, voice quiet, smooth, “this world is the only place where life exists?”

Silence.

A beat.

Then another.

The Duke did not answer. Not immediately.

His expression did not change.

And yet—

Lucavion could see it.

That flicker of thought. Of calculation.

That doubt.

The quiet tension of a man who had spent his life grounded in reality, in the certainties of power, of control—only to be confronted with something that threatened to unravel it.

Something older.

Something beyond this world.

Lucavion’s smile widened just slightly.

‘Now….I have gathered your interest….’

The Duke exhaled slowly, his golden gaze steady.

“Of course not,” he said, his voice firm, certain. “There are many legends—angels who have risen to the heavens, demons who come from the demon realm, spirits from the spirit realm. Even if we do not see them, we know they exist. These are the truths of our world.”

Lucavion nodded, as if expecting that response.

“Yes,” he agreed easily. “We may not see them, but we know them. Stories passed down. Scriptures written by those who have glimpsed beyond the veil. A world shaped by what we believe to be its highest forces.”

A pause.

Then—

“That, however…” Lucavion lifted his gaze slightly, his smirk fading into something quieter. Something thoughtful.

“…is not what I am talking about.”

Thaddeus narrowed his eyes.

Lucavion tilted his head back, staring toward the ceiling, as if looking at something far, far beyond it.

“Do you think,” he asked, his voice almost idle, “there are existences beyond the common knowledge? Beyond the heavens and gods that everyone speaks of?”

Silence.

The Duke did not answer right away.

And that—

That was important.

Because for the first time in this conversation, he thought about it.

The mere suggestion of such a thing was absurd. Gods were the pinnacle, the untouchable. The heavens and hells, the divine and the cursed—these were the boundaries of existence.

Weren’t they?

But…

Thaddeus frowned, his thoughts shifting, spiraling down a path he had never truly considered before.

There were no records of such things.

No ancient texts detailing realms beyond the divine. No scholars claiming to have glimpsed something outside of creation itself.

And yet.

“There are no records of such things,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. Measured.

Lucavion chuckled softly.

“There were no records of many things in the past.” He lifted a single hand, gesturing vaguely. “And yet, discoveries were made. Knowledge was rewritten.”

His dark eyes gleamed as he lowered his gaze back to the Duke.

He let the moment stretch, savoring the silence that followed.

Then, softly—

“Do you believe they can exist?”

His words lingered in the air, delicate yet pressing.

Thaddeus did not respond immediately.

Instead, he thought.

It was not a question he had ever considered—not truly. His entire life had been built upon what was known, what was recorded. The gods. The heavens. The realms of spirits and demons. These were absolute truths, the pillars upon which the world stood.

But if those pillars were not the peak? If something lay beyond them?

He exhaled slowly.

Yet—

Something was off.

His golden eyes narrowed at Lucavion, scrutinizing him once more.

Because the way this boy was speaking—

It was not simple speculation.

It was not curiosity.

It was certainty.

As if he knew.

As if this was not just some philosophical musing, but something real.

Something connected.

His jaw tightened.

“Are you saying,” Thaddeus asked, his voice now dangerously low, “that the Kraken—or Aeliana’s illness—was due to something beyond this world?”

The moment the words left his lips, Lucavion smiled.

A quiet, knowing smile.

Indeed.

He tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with a sharp, unreadable glint.

“It was something beyond the confines of this world.” His voice was calm, but there was weight to it—weight that made the air in the room feel heavier, denser.

Then—

His gaze locked onto Thaddeus, and for the first time in the conversation, his amusement dimmed.

“That was why,” he continued, his voice quieter now, steadier, “both your wife and your daughter could never be cured.”

The chamber fell into utter silence.

And Thaddeus—

For the first time in years—

Felt a chill crawl down his spine.

Thaddeus’ fingers curled into fists at his sides.

His golden eyes, once merely sharp, now burned with something deeper.

Suspicion.

How?

How could this boy—this nobody—make such claims?

“How can you be so certain?” His voice was low, controlled, but the weight behind it was undeniable. “How can you speak of this as if it is fact?”

He took a slow step forward, his gaze unrelenting.

“You claim something beyond this world is responsible.” Another step. “You claim that the Kraken—Aeliana’s illness—was never something of this world to begin with.” Your next chapter awaits on My Virtual Library Empire

His voice darkened, pressing against the walls of the chamber.

“Then tell me—what proof do you have? What evidence?”

He was not a man who entertained baseless claims. Words alone meant nothing.

For all Lucavion’s cleverness, for all his confidence, what did he have?

Why should he be listened to?

Silence.

Then—

Lucavion laughed.

A quiet chuckle at first, but it deepened, rich with amusement.

As if this—this very moment—was something he had anticipated.

Then, slowly, he nodded his head.

“Indeed,” he murmured, his smirk never faltering. “From your perspective, it is only natural to doubt me.”

His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable—something undeniably sure of itself.

“After all,” he mused, tilting his head slightly, “you don’t know much about me.”

Thaddeus did not react. He merely watched, waiting, measuring.

And then—

Lucavion shifted.

His posture straightened, his entire presence settling into something different.

Not arrogant. Not playful.

Certain.

And when he spoke again, his voice was steady.

“Then, Duke,” he said, locking eyes with Thaddeus, “let me introduce myself.”

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Lucavion exhaled softly, his smirk lingering as he observed the Duke’s expression shift—ever so slightly.

“By this point,” he began, voice smooth, steady, “you must have understood that the name ‘Luca’ was just a forged identity.”

Thaddeus said nothing at first.

Then, slowly—he nodded.

Lucavion’s smirk widened.

“And if you had maybe one more week,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “you would have found out a part of my real identity.”

His dark eyes locked onto Thaddeus’. Unwavering.

Then—

“Scar on the right eye.”

A pause.

“Use of a long estoc.”

Another step forward.

“One of the rising rogue talents in the empire.”

Silence hung between them, heavy and sharp.

And then—

Thaddeus inhaled slowly, his golden gaze narrowing as understanding clicked into place.

“Lucavion.”

The name left his lips as a statement, not a question.

And in that moment—

A memory surfaced.

A rumor.

A whisper that had begun to circulate throughout the empire, gaining momentum like a storm.

A young man.

A swordsman who had done incredible things—who had shaken the very foundation of the human world.

And alongside that name—

A title.

“The Sword Demon.”

The Duke’s voice was barely above a murmur, but it carried through the chamber like a blade being unsheathed.

Lucavion grinned.

“Yep,” he said, voice light, as if the weight of such a title meant nothing to him.

“That’s one of the names I’m going with.”

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