Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra - Chapter 614

Chapter 614: Young man, and a scene (2)
Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The flare of mana was too violent, too sharp—unrestrained fury coiling outward in a wave of violet pressure, knocking over trays and rattling lanterns. The air shimmered as if a furnace had opened mid-square, and a few bystanders instinctively raised weak barriers, shielding themselves from the backlash.

Someone shouted from the edge of the gathering: “Stop him!”

“That level of mana—he’s going to kill someone!”

Aurelian stepped forward, his voice sharp. “Enough! He’s just a mercenary, that attack could—!”

Selphine’s hand moved too, not to stop Aurelian, but to reinforce him. If they had to intercept this, they’d do it together.

But they didn’t take more than two steps before three uniformed figures moved in front of them—blocking the way.

The sigils on their cloaks shimmered with authority: House Crane.

One of them, a senior attendant with graying temples, raised his hand toward Aurelian and Selphine.

“Young masters,” he said coldly, “this is House Crane’s internal matter. Do not interfere. Let the young heir defend his honor.”

Aurelian’s jaw tensed. “Defend—? That wasn’t dueling. That was bullying!”

Another attendant’s voice cut in, sharper. “You’ll find that to the noble courts, there is little difference.”

Before another word could be spoken—

The noble attacked.

Mana snapped in the air like a breaking whip. Arcane sigils lit up across his forearms, crackling as a barrage of force-magic spiraled outward toward the black-eyed boy. It wasn’t just a warning shot.

It was a real strike.

A blow meant to stagger, bruise, break.

The boy didn’t move.

He didn’t need to.

Because just before the attack could land—

Everything stopped.

Not in the literal sense.

But in a feeling.

A sensation.

Like the entire world had taken in a breath—and forgotten how to exhale.

For a split second—just one—a presence expanded into the square.

And it was cold.

Not icy, but empty.

As if space itself had forgotten its weight. The festival lights dimmed for the blink of an eye. The crowd stopped shifting. Mana hung frozen in the air like water caught mid-boil.

No one could breathe.

Aurelian’s hand halted mid-reach, his fingers trembling.

Selphine’s voice caught in her throat.

Even the House Crane attendants glanced around, their stances faltering.

The white cat on the boy’s shoulder lifted its head.

Its golden eyes narrowed.

And then—

The black-eyed boy finally spoke again.

His voice was quieter now. But it cut through the air like obsidian.

“Exuding killing intent before me?”

“Are you ready to get killed yourself?”

In his eyes—

A flicker.

Black fire.

Tiny. Controlled.

But unmistakable.

The noble’s face twisted into confusion—then panic.

Because the instant that flame blinked to life—

The pressure shattered.

His own mana buckled beneath it.

His arms jerked.

His stance broke.

And the spell he was casting collapsed mid-air, dispersing into glowing fragments like ash in the wind.

“AAAAAAH!”

He screamed.

The force hit him—not from an attack, but from within—as if something had reached into his core and cracked the flow of his magic. He stumbled back, collapsing to one knee, gasping for breath.

His two companions froze, not daring to step forward.

And all around them—

Silence.

The stillness shattered.

With a sharp clang of steel against scabbard, one of the attendants of House Crane moved—

Faster than the crowd could process.

His blade gleamed in the festival lights as he lunged toward the black-eyed boy, eyes burning with duty and outrage. “You!” he roared. “What have you done?!”

Aurelian took a step forward on instinct.

Selphine’s hand tensed near her side, mana already gathering—

But before either of them could act—

The boy moved.

One blink—and he was gone from where he stood.

The white cat leapt with him, still perched gracefully as the boy landed atop a vendor’s table a few paces back, his robe trailing behind him like smoke.

Mana flared around him now—

Subtle, dark, restrained.

But vast.

Like a tide held back only because the moon hadn’t yet given it permission to rise.

He stood tall, one foot perched on a wooden beam, hands still slack at his sides.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said calmly, his voice smooth with that same untouchable edge. “As you can all see—my hands never moved.”

He raised both arms slowly, palms open. Unarmed. Steady.

The crowd murmured again. People exchanged glances. Even the vendor he stood upon didn’t dare speak.

“You’re lying!” the second Crane attendant shouted, pointing at the count’s heir, who still writhed, clutching at his own chest as if his mana had betrayed him. “Then how do you explain this?!”

The boy tilted his head, blinking once, as if genuinely confused.

“Explain it?” he echoed. “Must I?”

He crouched lightly on the beam, chin resting on one gloved hand in mock contemplation.

“Because to me,” he said, voice dropping just a hair colder, “it looks like a textbook case of Arkanic Collapse.”

A breath of recognition rippled across the crowd. Even Aurelian stiffened.

“You don’t mean—” he muttered.

Selphine finished for him, quietly: “A mana backlash.”

The black-eyed boy straightened.

“It’s a phenomenon,” he explained, loud enough for the crowd to hear, “when a mage loses control over his spellcasting pathways—mana swells beyond his circuit’s capacity and the internal flow backfires.”

He tapped the side of his head once, then his chest. “Basic mistake. Happens when you flare too hard, too fast—especially when you’re… emotionally compromised.”

His eyes flicked down toward the trembling noble heir.

“Tragic, really,” he added, tone laced with mock sympathy. “Mid-four-star rank, and no control? Must’ve skipped the part of training that wasn’t spoon-fed.”

Gasps. A few stifled laughs. No one dared be loud—but they didn’t have to be.

The humiliation burned louder than any words.

“Shut your mouth,” the lead Crane attendant growled, advancing again, blade still raised.

But the boy didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

He only said, “Careful now. If you lose control next, we might start to think it runs in the family.”

And again—he smiled.

That same, unreadable, unnerving smile.

And something in the crowd shifted again.

Not in favor of Crane.

The tension held for one long, burning moment—until the boy tilted his head once more, just slightly.

And grinned.

Not a friendly grin.

Not even a mocking one.

It was the kind of smile someone wore when they knew the rules better than you—and were about to use them like a blade.

“House Crane, was it?” he said aloud, voice echoing faintly across the terrace.

The attendant paused mid-step, blade still drawn but faltering ever so slightly.

The boy’s gaze swept the watching crowd now—making sure they were listening. Oh, and they were.

“Interesting house,” he went on. “One of reputation. Of power. Of pride.”

He pointed lazily to the noble heir still groaning on the ground, clutching at the aftershocks of his own mana collapse.

“And yet its heir lacks the most basic human respect. Threatening two innocents in public, in broad daylight, no less. All because he felt a little wind in his circuits and mistook it for thunder.”

Gasps rippled, scattered like dry leaves on a wind.

“Worse,” the black-eyed boy added, now pacing slowly atop the vendor’s table with the grace of someone who knew he was untouchable in this moment, “he did so during the Festival of the First Flame.”

A stunned hush followed.

Then—

Murmurs.

Someone whispered: “He’s right…”

“The capital’s supposed to be under harmony law during the festival…”

“That’s a direct breach—”

He paused, then leaned slightly forward, his tone softer—almost thoughtful, though each word carried weight like falling stones.

“This plaza lies beneath the protection of the royal decree. Imperial harmony. That’s the rule, isn’t it?”

He turned to the Crane attendants, who were now locked in place, tension flickering in their stances.

“Or… am I mistaken?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Tell me—does House Crane consider itself above the royal family’s laws? Or are you simply ignoring them entirely?”