Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra-Chapter 669: Reynald Vale (2)

"…Oh."

It slipped from her without thought—quiet, startled. It wasn't like her to be surprised.

But this? This wasn't an exam anymore.

It was a trial by fire.

The candidates onscreen were scattering, some of them barely holding formation. A few were already on the ground—wounded, conscious, but clearly out of the fight. One young woman tried to cast a barrier, only for it to flicker and shatter under the claws of a spellhound. Another group, huddled at the far side of the ridge, was trying to channel a group teleport—but the array was flickering, unstable.

Valeria leaned in slightly.

'That's at least a 4-star threat level. That's—'

The projection flared again, this time shifting to another sector: a shattered courtyard bordered by what looked like a crumbling fortress wall. Quite a lot of candidates were holding position here—barely—and leading them was a face Valeria recognized.

Reynald Vale.

Sturdy stance. Broad-shouldered. Sword braced in front of a collapsing barrier. The moment the view settled on him, it became obvious—he wasn't just fighting. He was shielding. Holding the line so the others behind him—two injured, one unconscious, and one desperately trying to stabilize the wounded—could reach the sigil-marked circle glowing faintly near the edge of the frame.

The safe zone.

"Come on—come on," Valeria murmured, eyes fixed.

Reynald's blade shimmered with an overcharged enchantment, and with a guttural shout, he struck down a mana-warped leoghul that had pounced straight for the healer. The force of the blow cracked the earth beneath them.

Then—finally—he turned, grabbed the nearest injured candidate by the collar, and dragged him across the finish line.

The glyph flared. Light surged. The monsters froze mid-step—bound by the zone's restrictions—and the barrier shimmered to life around the group.

Safe.

The scene panned out as a voice crackled faintly through the ambient sound system in the inn:

"—And with that, Reynald Vale and his team have cleared Phase Four of the Trial! Exceptional tenacity shown in Sector Twelve! Viewers, if you were watching, you know that was no ordinary escape—what a moment!"

Valeria's fork paused mid-air as the voice from the ambient enchantment rang out again—clearer this time, imbued with just enough presence to cut through the low murmur of conversation in the inn.

"Reynald Vale, ladies and gentlemen! That's leadership under pressure if I've ever seen it. Sector Twelve is officially cleared. What a sequence!"

Her brow furrowed slightly.

'That wasn't there before.'

She glanced toward the ceiling rune, watching as faint threads of sound magic shimmered down into the projection. The inn's broadcast had updated—not just the image, but the experience. Professional commentary. Public feed enhancements. Arcane amplification tuned for clarity.

'They're making it into a spectacle.'

It made sense. The Candidate Trials weren't just a test; they were entertainment. The city pulsed with energy, and the Trials were now its central flame. Public inns, private salons, even market stalls had started projecting parts of it.

And, Valeria had to admit—though she wouldn't say it aloud—it worked.

The tension was real. The victories satisfying. The failures sharp.

And then—

The projection shifted again.

The view panned over the recently stabilized safe zone, the camera arcane-eye swooping lazily through the protective dome, passing over the exhausted, the injured… and then—

Him.

Sitting casually atop a sloped piece of broken masonry, his coat lazily draped over one shoulder and that infernal smirk playing at the edge of his mouth.

A black cat rested on his shoulder like it owned the world.

Lucavion.

Her body stilled. freёnovelkiss.com

"...Lucavion," she murmured, so quietly the word barely escaped her lips.

He hadn't moved. Not when the glyph had flared. Not even when Reynald had stumbled across the line with half his team bleeding. Lucavion was already there—waiting—as if the whole ordeal had nothing to do with him.

'So he was here already.'

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

'I didn't watch yesterday. Didn't realize he'd already cleared this phase.'

The scene held on him for a beat longer. The cat yawned. Lucavion leaned back, folding his hands behind his head, utterly unbothered by the carnage outside the barrier.

'Of course he's relaxed. He's always like this.'

And yet… there was something about it.

Not arrogance. Not bravado.

It was comfort. Like he already knew the outcome.

Valeria exhaled softly, the sound half a sigh, half something else—something unreadable.

'Still playing your games, are you?'

She tore her gaze from the screen and took another bite of her meal, slower now.

'So… what now?'

The Trials had entered a new phase—one no longer shaped by prestige or clean duels, but by chaos. Survival. Adaptability. She'd seen how such crucibles could forge not just skill, but myth. And it seemed one such story was already forming.

Around her, the ambient chatter had shifted. She hadn't noticed at first, too caught in the flicker of the broadcast. But now the voices rose clearer—louder, animated.

"That Reynald kid... did you see how he dragged that unconscious one with him?"

"Didn't even hesitate. Just picked him up like deadweight and kept going."

"Reminds me of the old days. That kind of grit—it's rare now."

At the far end of the inn, a father lifted his son onto his lap, pointing toward the projection with a spark in his eyes. "See that, pup? That's courage. That's what it means to protect someone."

A pair of apprentices seated nearby leaned in over their plates, whispering with wide eyes.

"They're calling him The Bastion. Can you believe that?"

"Already? Gods, that's fast."

"Yeah, but it fits, doesn't it? The way he held the line—just stood there while everything fell apart. Like a wall."

Valeria's fork paused again, just above her plate.

The Bastion.

The name hung in the air, echoing gently from table to table like a growing tide.

She leaned back slightly, letting the voices flow past her, around her, through her.

It wasn't surprising. That kind of act—defensive, selfless, clear—it spoke to something primal in people. In a city like Arcanis, so wrapped in ambition and masks, a simple story of one man shielding others resonated more than any bloodline ever could.

And Reynald... he had played the role perfectly.

'They'll remember him for this,' Valeria thought, not with envy, but with a tinge of calculation. 'Not just his performance, but the image of it. The stance. The urgency. The weight.'

She turned her gaze briefly back to Lucavion's frozen posture onscreen—arms behind his head, cat on shoulder, eyes half-lidded like the world didn't require his attention just yet.

'And then there's you.'

No title. No nickname. Just Lucavion.

She wondered how long that would last.

The projection flickered slightly, stabilizing as the camera shifted—its arcane lens adjusting to the movement inside the safe zone.

Valeria, still chewing, noticed it first—the slight change in Lucavion's posture.

He wasn't lounging anymore.

He stood.

Not with urgency. Not with alarm. But with a familiar tilt of his head, eyes latching onto something just beyond the barrier's edge.

"Ho?" His voice came faintly through the enhanced broadcast, carried by ambient enchantments.

Valeria's breath caught. That sound—quiet, amused, drawn out like he'd just discovered something entertaining.

Lucavion's smirk unfurled like a well-practiced mask. That same expression. Equal parts arrogance, anticipation, and devil-may-care charm.

And she knew that smile.

It was the smile he put on his face when he was about to do something crazy.

'No... what are you—'

He moved.

Not with ceremony. Not with build-up. He vanished from the stone slab in a blur, a streak of slate and black shadow, the cat leaping from his shoulder with an indignant mrrrow! as he launched forward.

Gasps echoed throughout the inn.

"What?!"

"Did he just—?!"

Valeria's eyes locked onto the scene, hand unconsciously gripping the edge of her table.

Across the projection, the newly stabilized zone shimmered again—barrier rules adjusting—and then—

CLANG!

A shockwave erupted through the illusion frame…..