Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

Chapter 338 Take it

The faint crackle of the lantern and the heavy, ragged breathing of the wounded mercenaries were the only sounds filling the room. The air was heavy, thick with exhaustion and the coppery scent of blood. Zirkel sat slumped against the wall, his axe resting beside him, its edge dull with dried crimson. Around him, the surviving Mad Dogs quietly tended to their wounds—wrapping bloodied cloths around gashes, gritting their teeth through the pain, and sharing brief glances of mutual understanding.No words were spoken. There was nothing to say.

Then—

CREAK.

The door groaned open, its hinges screeching loud enough to cut through the suffocating silence. Every head in the room snapped toward it, hands instinctively reaching for nearby weapons. The lantern's flickering light stretched shadows across the entrance, and for a breathless moment, no one moved.

A figure stepped inside.

He moved with deliberate calm, his boots echoing softly on the creaking wooden floor. The faint light of the lantern revealed him slowly—first the dark cloak that fluttered faintly behind him, untouched by the stale air of the room. Then the slim, polished estoc resting lazily at his hip, the blade still faintly shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

And finally, his face—Lucavion's face. His dark eyes, cold and unreadable, swept over the room with detached precision, lingering for no longer than a second on each man. He looked like he had walked out of a painting, untouched by the chaos they had endured, his sharp features unmarred by exhaustion or injury.

The door clicked shut behind him.

For a moment, no one dared to speak. Zirkel's mismatched eyes narrowed as he pushed himself upright, the scrape of his axe dragging against the floor breaking the silence. The tension in the room was suffocating, a quiet challenge unspoken but understood by everyone present.

Lucavion finally spoke, his voice calm and smooth, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Looks like I'm right on time."

Zirkel's lips curled into a scowl, his voice low and gravelly as he eyed their employer. "You've got some damn nerve showing up now."

Lucavion's smirk was faint, but it carried an edge. "I figured you'd miss me."

One of the mercenaries swore under his breath, his grip tightening around a bloodied dagger. Another let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp.

"What do you want?" Zirkel growled, his mismatched gaze burning into Lucavion. "Here to tell us we did a great job? Half my men are dead, and we're lucky to still be breathing."

Lucavion's expression didn't falter. He stepped further into the room, his cloak trailing behind him as he moved with the same unshakable confidence that had unnerved them all from the start.

"You survived," he replied simply, his gaze settling on Zirkel. "That's what matters."

Zirkel's scowl deepened at Lucavion's maddening calm. His mismatched eyes locked onto their employer,

"Did you miss me?"

Aether snorted, as though offended by the suggestion.

With a swift motion, Lucavion swung into the saddle, his cloak fluttering in the stable's dim light. The mare shifted beneath him, eager and restless.