Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra - Chapter 694

Chapter 694: Show
The moment the rest time ended, a deep, resonant chime rang through the air—clear, final.

No more waiting.

Now came the declarations.

There was a hush—not the silence of nerves, but the razor-fine stillness that only came when blood was imminent. All eyes shifted to the center dais, where an ethereal glyph pulsed above a crystalline platform. The platform shimmered with recognition as a name lit it in violet:

Edran Sylven – Rank 7

He stepped forward with deliberate calm. No hesitation. No uncertainty.

“I challenge,” he said, his voice projected by mana amplification across the basin, “Mireilla Dane.”

The glyph flickered, adjusted.

Challenge Accepted. Combatants: Edran Sylven vs. Mireilla Dane.

A ripple of power shot through the platform as mages stationed around the basin raised their staves. Arcane runes spiraled outward, blooming across the ground like lightning trapped in glass. The stone beneath the fighters cracked, then rearranged—sinking, rising, forming an arena of interlocking obsidian hexes.

A dueling circle.

Elementally attuned.

Mireilla stepped in, slow and measured, her expression unreadable. The roots she’d already called were still buried—waiting. Listening.

They thought vines were only for grasping.

Let him find out.

Across from her, Edran drew his longsword. Sleek, matte-black steel, its edge faintly humming with pressure. He held it in one hand—confidently, but not carelessly.

He exhaled once. His mana surged. A violet sigil flared across his wrist.

Crescent Pulse—First Form: Mirror Shatter.

A burst of kinetic force exploded from his foot as he lunged.

—BOOM!

He was already in front of her. His blade arced, a diagonal slash aimed to cut through her from shoulder to hip with terrifying speed.

But the roots beneath her had already responded.

Verdant Ward – Heartroot Spiral.

The stone cracked. A twisting coil of bark and vine erupted between them, catching the blade mid-swing. The impact detonated in a shower of splinters and momentum—but it stopped the blow.

Mireilla didn’t flinch.

Her eyes gleamed.

“You’re fast,” she said.

Edran growled. “You’re stalling.”

He twisted his wrist—Second Form: Phantom Echo. A follow-up slash from the same momentum, delayed by half a second and delivered at double speed.

He expected the root to fail.

It did.

The root failed—cleaved clean through by the second strike. But Mireilla was already gone.

—WHOOSH!

She sidestepped with almost eerie grace, her cloak fluttering behind her as she ducked low beneath the follow-up slash. A vine snapped up from the ground, catching her fall, and slung her sideways into a roll that brought her to her feet again just beyond the blade’s arc.

Not a flinch.

Not a gasp.

Just movement. Pure, clean, measured.

Edran turned, blade sweeping wide.

—CLANG!

It scraped the edge of a summoned root—but Mireilla wasn’t there anymore.

‘He’s too focused on the sword. Predictable.’

Her mana flared faintly at her ankles, just enough to send a signal down through the buried network.

Verdant Technique – Weaver’s Net

Vines rippled outward below the obsidian tiles, unseen. They weren’t meant to strike yet.

Just to listen.

Edran’s mana surged again, more aggressive this time. His stance widened, anchoring his feet. The sigil on his forearm deepened into an array of interlocking rings.

“Let’s end this.”

Crescent Pulse – Third Form: Breaker Crescent

His sword swept in a wide horizontal arc—too wide for precision. But that wasn’t the point.

—BOOOOM!

A semicircular wave of compressed force erupted from the swing, cleaving the field in a sweeping surge. The air howled as the blast tore toward Mireilla like a guillotine of violet energy.

She didn’t move.

Not forward.

Not back.

She knelt.

And whispered:

Verdant Technique – Root Cage: Hollow Spiral

The ground shattered.

—KRSHHHH!

A whirling shell of reinforced vines curled upward around her in a corkscrew of bark and thorns, absorbing the force of the attack in spiraling deflection. The crescent wave struck the outer shell and fractured, its kinetic edge turned inward on itself.

The impact kicked up a cloud of dust and leaves.

Edran narrowed his eyes.

He could still feel her mana.

She hadn’t run.

‘She’s bracing. Good. Makes this simple.’

He charged.

Footwork precise.

Power tight in his core.

They were both Mid Rank-4. Equal in tier. Equal in mana pool. Equal in raw power.

But Mireilla?

She wasn’t built to clash.

She was built to unmake.

As Edran closed the distance again, he raised his sword overhead.

Crescent Pulse – Fifth Form: Mooncleaver Drop

The blade descended like judgment—hard, heavy, fast enough to split a boulder.

—THOOOOOM!

The strike landed on her shield of vines—

—and sank.

Not pierced.

Not deflected.

Sank.

Edran blinked.

The vines gave—not resisting, but folding around his blade like a trap waiting for pressure.

And now they pulled.

Verdant Technique – Thornbind: Widow’s Maw

—SNAP!

Thorns jutted from the vine cage, curving around his wrists and elbow. He tore back, but the barbs had already dug in.

Blood bloomed.

—SHNK!

A shallow cut. Then another.

He swung wildly with his free arm, carving away the vines—only for a second layer to snap upward and grab his ankle.

He stumbled.

Mireilla’s voice came, low and dry. “Shouldn’t have stood still.”

He gritted his teeth. “You’re hiding.”

“I’m waiting,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”

—CRACK!

Roots split the tiles beneath him.

The ground gave out just enough for him to lose balance.

And Mireilla moved.

Not fast—but precise. Her footwork made no sound.

From the side of her leg, a looped vine slithered upward, then hardened into a whip—coiled with embedded thorn barbs.

Verdant Technique – Snaplash: Serpent’s Tongue

—CRACKK!

It lashed across his shoulder before he could turn. His coat split open with a spray of crimson. He roared and twisted his body, unleashing mana in a pulse.

Crescent Pulse – Fourth Form: Radiant Push

—BOOMM!

A full-body discharge threw her back, vines snapping under the sudden wave. She rolled—gritted her teeth as the air slammed from her lungs—but regained footing.

‘Tch. He’s adapting. Stop giving him space.’

She reached toward the center of the field.

There—under the third tile.

The trap was ready.

The moment he advanced again, she pivoted and pressed her palm to the ground.

Verdant Technique – Bloomtrap: Parasitic Latch

—THWACK!

A spine of thorned vine erupted from beneath Edran’s rear heel—piercing his boot, not deep, but deep enough.

Enough to poison.

A viridian glow spread up his calf.

He froze, blinking in confusion.

“What…?”

She smiled—tight and sharp. “Mana constrictor venom. Drains output. Just a little.”

She flicked her wrist.

Another vine snapped forward and ripped the sword from his hand.

Edran reached for it.

Too slow.

Mireilla was already on him.

Verdant Technique – Ironbark Gauntlet

Her hand, encased in bark and living thorns, slammed into his stomach.

—WHUMP!

He gasped.

Then another to his ribs.

—THWACK!

He dropped.

His knees hit the obsidian.

Vines coiled around his throat, his wrist, his chest—gentle but immovable.

He couldn’t move.

Not because he was broken.

But because every decision he made, she’d seen coming.

Mireilla leaned close, her breath calm.

“You never lost because I was stronger,” she murmured. “You lost because you thought I had to be.”

—THUNK.

His sword landed far from reach.

The arena fell into silence.

Above them, the glyph flared again.

Victory: Mireilla Dane

The mages released the boundary.