Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

The murmur of voices rose steadily in the cavern, fractured by the palpable tension between groups of survivors. As Aeliana leaned against the jagged wall of the basin, her breaths shallow and uneven, she watched as the survivors began to form their factions.

The mercenaries were the first to pull together, their rough, pragmatic demeanor evident in the way they spoke in clipped sentences and sized up their surroundings. They didn't waste time with sympathy, instead prioritizing survival. One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek, barked orders to the others.

"Stay sharp," he growled. "This place isn't safe. Could be more traps, or worse."

The soldiers, clad in battered uniforms, formed a tight, disciplined group. Their weapons were drawn, their postures defensive. They huddled together, their eyes scanning the area for threats. Despite their training, they exuded unease, their discipline barely masking their fear.

Meanwhile, the adventurers were scattered and disorganized. Some clung to one another, their voices panicked and trembling, while others wandered off aimlessly, driven by a mix of curiosity and desperation. A few argued loudly about whether to explore or wait for rescue.

In contrast to the rising commotion, Aeliana remained a solitary figure, her frail form and veiled face casting her as an afterthought in the chaos. Her trembling body was both a blessing and a curse—it made her seem insignificant, yet it also marked her as vulnerable prey.

She kept her head down, leaning heavily on the rock wall behind her as she tried to steady her breathing. The air here might have been calm, but her body was still wracked with the residual strain of her ordeal. The dampened corruption within her gnawed at her resolve, forcing her to focus on staying upright.

But she couldn't remain unnoticed forever.

Two mercenaries, a burly man with a shaved head and a wiry woman with a dagger strapped to her thigh, noticed her. They exchanged a glance before approaching, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

The man crossed his arms as he loomed over her. "You don't look like you belong here," he said bluntly, his voice rough like gravel. "Where's your weapon?"

The woman tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing. "What's with the veil?" she asked, her tone laced with suspicion. "You hiding something?"

Aeliana's fingers curled into fists beneath her sleeves, her nails biting into her palms. She straightened as much as her body would allow, forcing herself to meet their gazes.

"I survived the same whirlpools you did," she said, her voice low but steady. "That's all you need to know."

Her tone carried an edge of quiet determination that caught the pair off guard. The man raised an eyebrow, while the woman's lips twitched into a faint sneer.

"Feisty, huh?" the man muttered, scratching his chin. "Not worth the trouble," the woman replied, her gaze lingering on Aeliana for a moment longer before she turned away.

They walked off, their murmurs fading into the general din of the cavern. Aeliana exhaled shakily, the tension in her chest easing slightly.

The survivors began cautiously moving through the cavern, curiosity and necessity driving them to investigate their surroundings. As they ventured deeper, they discovered ancient ruins embedded in the rocky walls.

The ruins were adorned with intricate symbols, their designs spiraling and interlocking in mesmerizing patterns. The symbols pulsed faintly with a soft, otherworldly glow that seemed to resonate with the strange distortions in the air.

"Look at this," a soldier murmured, running his gloved hand over the carvings. "These symbols… they're old. Older than anything I've seen."

"They're tied to the distortions," another soldier speculated. "This place isn't natural. It feels… wrong."

Aeliana, despite her physical weakness, felt her mind sharpen as she studied the ruins from a distance. The pulsing symbols drew her attention, their faint fluctuations oddly familiar.

'These patterns… they're like mana flows,' she thought, her sharp mind instinctively analyzing their rhythm. The way the symbols pulsed reminded her of the erratic patterns of the corrupted mana within her own body.

She pushed herself forward, the strain in her limbs forgotten for a moment as curiosity overtook her fear. 'Could this place… be tied to my illness?'

Her gaze lingered on the glowing ruins, her thoughts racing. If the distortions in this place were connected to the ancient carvings, perhaps they held answers.

As Aeliana moved closer to the ruins, a faint light caught her attention. It flickered in the distance, different from the glow of the moss or the symbols. The light was softer, almost ethereal, shimmering with a subtle brilliance that reminded her of starlight.

She paused, her breath hitching. The glow was faint, but it seemed to ripple through the air, creating a path that led deeper into the cavern.

'What is that?'

Her body ached, her illness still gnawing at her resolve, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the distant glow. The air seemed to hum faintly, resonating with something deep within her.

Aeliana took a hesitant step forward, her curiosity outweighing her fear. Whatever that light was, it felt like it was calling to her.

Aeliana's gaze remained fixed on the distant glow, the soft, ethereal light flickering like starlight against the muted gray of the cavern. It called to her, pulling her forward despite the ache in her body and the unease that gnawed at the edges of her thoughts. Each step felt heavier than the last, but she pressed on, her curiosity overriding her fear.

The air around her seemed to hum faintly, the strange energy of the place resonating with her corrupted mana. Her breaths were shallow, her body trembling as she drew closer to the glowing ruins.

But then, a presence nearby broke her focus.

From the corner of her vision, Aeliana noticed movement. Two figures emerged from the shadows of the jagged rocks, their footsteps heavy and deliberate. Her heart sank as she recognized them—their faces were familiar, though not significant enough to recall in detail.

They were adventurers she'd seen fighting on the Fourth Station.

Her mind flashed back briefly to the battle. While her attention had been on another—Luca—their faces had passed through her periphery. They had been skilled, she supposed, but nothing about them had held her interest.

Now, however, their presence felt different.

The two adventurers stopped a few paces away, their gazes locking onto her like predators sizing up prey.

"Little missy," the taller of the two drawled, his tone sickeningly casual. His grin was sharp and predatory, his eyes trailing over her trembling figure with an intent that sent a chill down her spine.

The other man, shorter and wiry, tilted his head as his lips twisted into a smirk. "What are you hiding under that veil?" he asked, his voice laced with mock curiosity.

Aeliana's fingers clenched tightly around her sleeves. It had been a long time since she'd encountered such overt lust, but the memory of similar gazes flashed in her mind like a searing brand. The disgust, the pity, the derision—it all felt the same.

Her heart pounded, but she kept her voice steady. "Nothing that concerns you," she said sharply, taking a step back.

The taller man chuckled darkly, exchanging a glance with his companion. "Oh, I think it does," he said, stepping closer. "A frail little thing like you wandering around here? What could you be hiding?"

The wiry man reached out, his fingers aiming for the edge of her veil.

Aeliana's reaction was immediate and instinctual. Her hand shot up, slapping his hand away with more force than she thought she could muster.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, her voice low and venomous.

The man stumbled back a step, momentarily caught off guard by her sharpness. His smirk faded into a scowl as he rubbed his hand where she'd struck him.

"Well, now," the taller man said, his tone darkening. "You've got some fire, don't you? I like that."

Aeliana's chest heaved as her anger flared, pushing back the weakness in her body. Her hands trembled, but she forced herself to straighten, meeting their leering gazes head-on.

"I said," she repeated, her voice ice-cold, "don't touch me."

The two men exchanged glances, their amusement replaced with something more dangerous. The tension in the air grew thick, and Aeliana could feel the weight of their intent pressing down on her.

The wiry man's smirk twisted into a snarl, his pride clearly stung. "Bitch," he spat, his voice low and venomous.

Before Aeliana could react, he moved.

His speed was blinding, the kind of agility only an Awakened could muster. In an instant, his hand darted forward, the distance between them vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Aeliana barely had time to gasp before his fingers grasped the edge of her veil.

"No—" she started, her voice sharp with panic. But it was too late.

With a single, fluid motion, he ripped the veil away, the delicate fabric fluttering to the ground like a discarded leaf.

And she saw it.

The usual reaction.