Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra-Chapter 589: Too op, needs to get nerfed (2)

Vitaliara pressed her paw against his chest, her golden energy seeping deeper, weaving through the fractured remains of his core. The light pulsed—steady, unwavering—as it worked its way through the cracks, forcing them to mend, binding together what should have been beyond repair.

Lucavion could feel it.

Not just the healing, but her focus. The sheer force of her will as she poured every ounce of herself into fixing him.

And yet—

[Reckless. Idiotic. Suicidal bastard.]

Her voice was sharp, each word laced with something that was neither anger nor frustration, but something deeper.

Something raw.

[Do you have any idea how close you were? Do you understand how fragile this is?]

Lucavion exhaled slowly. He didn't answer.

Not because he didn't know, but because he did.

Because the more she spoke, the more her words trembled at the edges, the more she pushed her energy into him with too much force, as if trying to make up for the fact that she hadn't been able to stop him from doing this in the first place.

[If I wasn't here—] she growled, her tail flicking in agitation, [—you'd be dead. DEAD, Lucavion.]

Another surge of light. A sharp pulse of warmth burrowed into his core, forcing the shattered fragments to align, to stabilize.

The pain dulled.

The wrongness receded.

[What were you thinking? Oh, wait, you weren't thinking! No, of course not! You just threw yourself into something you weren't ready for—again—because gods forbid you ever consider your limits like a normal person!]

Lucavion let out a slow breath, eyes flickering open just slightly.

She was close. Too close. Her ears flattened, her fur bristling, her tail lashing like she wanted to smack him across the face with it. But her paws—one on his chest, the other hovering just above his abdomen—did not waver.

He could see it. The way her glow flickered at the edges, the way her body trembled from the sheer exertion.

She was using everything.

Every ounce of life energy she had to stabilize his core, to pull him back from the precipice.

And she wasn't stopping.

[Stupid. Infuriating. Suicidal.]

A harsh exhale. Her claws pressed ever so slightly into his skin.

[Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I want to fix the mess you make of yourself every damn time?]

Lucavion said nothing.

Because she didn't mean it.

Not really.

The moment she saw him crumbling, she had acted without hesitation. The moment she realized his core was cracked, she had moved before even thinking.

Because the truth was—

She would always fix him.

Because she couldn't bear the alternative.

[You should be grateful I even bother with you, you reckless idiot.]

Her voice shook—just slightly.

Lucavion closed his eyes again.

A flicker of a smirk ghosted his lips. Not in amusement. Not in arrogance.

Just because.

Because he knew.

And because she needed to say it.

So he let her.

And stayed silent.

The last of Vitaliara's energy settled into place, a final pulse of warmth threading through his body before fading. The pain, the unbearable wrongness that had plagued his core, dulled into something distant, something bearable. His body no longer felt like it was on the verge of collapse.

Lucavion inhaled slowly.

It was over.

Or so he thought.

Then—

Something felt off.

His breath hitched, his body tensing. Instinctively, he reached inward, searching for the familiar presence of his [Devourer of Stars] core—the deep, endless abyss of starlight mana that had always been there, humming beneath his skin, silent but constant.

But now—

Nothing.

A vast, empty void.

It was gone.

His eyes snapped open, sharp and alert, locking onto Vitaliara.

"Vitaliara?" His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it. A quiet urgency.

She didn't hesitate. Didn't falter.

[I sealed your core.]

Lucavion's breath stalled.

"What?"

Vitaliara exhaled, her golden eyes firm, unwavering.

[Are you deaf? I said I sealed your core.]

Lucavion stared at her, waiting for an explanation, waiting for something that made sense.

[I couldn't allow any mana to enter your core, no matter what.] Her voice was sharp, but beneath it, something softer lurked. [Right now, your core is in such a fragile state that any disturbance—any at all—could cause the crack to widen.]

His fingers twitched. His core—his connection to it—was severed. He couldn't even feel it.

"Then… what did you actually fix?"

Vitaliara's tail flicked. [I saved your meridians. I stabilized your connection to the core. But I didn't remove the crack completely.]

A pause.

[I can't.]

Lucavion's eyes narrowed.

[Not as I am now.]

Her words hung between them, unspoken weight pressing down.

He exhaled slowly. "Then…"

[Yes. It will take a while. And until then, you won't be able to use your core.]

Silence.

Lucavion processed the words carefully, methodically.

It wasn't that she didn't want him to use it. Normally, she wouldn't have sealed it at all.

But—

He was different.

[You are one of the most talented people I have ever seen,] she muttered, staring at him with something unreadable in her eyes. [Maybe the most talented.]

Lucavion raised an eyebrow slightly, but she wasn't done.

[Even when you're not cultivating, I've seen it. You unconsciously draw mana into your core, without even thinking.]

That much was true. His connection to mana was instinctual, effortless. He barely needed to try.

But now—

That talent, the thing that had always given him an edge—

Was a danger.

[And I will not take that risk.]

Her voice was final. Absolute.

Lucavion's gaze remained steady on her, unreadable, his mind turning over the weight of her words. He had spent years refining his control over mana, sharpening his instincts until drawing it into his core was as natural as breathing. And now—he was being told not to breathe.

"Then, how long will it take?"

Vitaliara hesitated for only a moment before replying.

[I don't know.]

Lucavion's eyes narrowed slightly.

[From the way I am now, it shouldn't take more than a year.]

A year.

More than a year.

That was… a long time.

Lucavion didn't flinch, didn't react outwardly, but his mind ran the calculations. A year without his [Devourer of Stars]—without the core that had carried him through battle after battle, the core that had defined his growth.

That was a severe handicap.

[But,] Vitaliara continued, [you can still use your [Flame of Equinox].]

Lucavion's eyes flicked downward, to the corpse before him. Aldric lay in pieces, the once-formidable warrior reduced to a mere bloodied ruin at his feet. The battle was over.

Yet, the price remained.

"...Sigh."

He exhaled, his shoulders loosening ever so slightly as reality settled in.

Reckless.

That was the word, wasn't it?

What he did was reckless. Charging past his limits, forcing his body into something it wasn't ready for, pushing beyond what should have been possible.

And now he was paying for it.

His lips twitched, amusement flickering in his expression despite everything.

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"Well..." He murmured, his gaze lingering on Aldric's remains. "I was planning on using my master's name, but I guess we'll postpone that a bit later."

Vitaliara's ears twitched. [Hmph. You should be grateful you're still alive to postpone anything.]

Lucavion chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. His core was sealed, his mana crippled, and yet, as his smirk returned, there was no regret in his voice.

"Still not bad."

Lucavion exhaled, his breath still uneven but steadying. His body ached—more than it ever had—but it was no longer screaming in protest. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed himself up, his muscles straining as he forced himself to stand.

Vitaliara watched him, her golden eyes sharp, but she said nothing.

When he was finally upright, he let out a slow breath and turned to her. His expression was unreadable for a moment, his gaze lingering on her before he spoke.

"...Thank you."

His voice was quiet. Sincere.

Not the usual teasing lilt, not the smooth arrogance he wore like armor.

A genuine thanks.

Vitaliara's ears twitched. Her tail flicked once. Then, she turned her head slightly, as if avoiding his gaze.

[Hmph. Don't get sentimental.]

Lucavion's lips curled slightly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

With that, he turned his attention to Aldric's corpse.

His eyes scanned the body carefully before settling on the gleam of a bracelet wrapped around the man's arm. His gaze flickered lower, landing on the spatial ring that still sat on Aldric's finger.

And then—his spear.

Lucavion smirked.

"I will be taking these."

He stepped forward, crouching slightly as he slipped the bracelet from Aldric's lifeless wrist. It was well-crafted, intricate in its design, something far too valuable to leave behind. He inspected it briefly before securing it in his own storage.

Next was the spear.

Even in death, the weapon retained an imposing presence, its shaft imbued with the faint traces of wind mana, the edge sharp and unyielding. Lucavion ran a hand over it, feeling the weight, the balance.

"Not bad."

With a flick of his wrist, he stored it away, then reached for the spatial ring. He rolled it between his fingers, smirking to himself.

Spatial storages couldn't be placed inside one another. That meant he'd have to go through this one later.

No rush.

Finally, his gaze drifted beyond the battlefield, toward the horizon where the first traces of dawn began bleeding into the sky.

The night had felt endless.

Yet here was the sun, as if nothing had happened.

Lucavion let out a quiet chuckle, then turned his head slightly toward Vitaliara.

"You have a lot of questions, don't you?"

She didn't hesitate.

[Yes.]

Lucavion let the word linger in the air for a moment before exhaling through his nose.

Then, without another word, he reached down—

And grabbed Aldric's severed head.