Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

'It's different...'

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to focus on the sensation. Human death. It had a strange quality to it—stronger, richer than the death mana I'd absorbed from monsters in the past. It was almost intoxicating, this thick, potent energy that filled the room.

'Humans give off more death mana than most monsters... Why?'

It was a question that I noticed. What made humans so... potent in death compared to beasts?

Monsters were stronger in life, their mana often more vibrant and powerful, but in death... humans left behind something more substantial.

Was it fear? Emotion? Regret? All those human qualities that lingered even after life had left them? I wasn't sure, but I could feel it in the air—the echoes of their final moments. The terror, the pain, the desperation.

It clung to the death mana, making it heavier and richer.

But what about it made the difference?

'Maybe because I am a human, too?'

I meditated on that thought for a while, letting the death mana circulate through my core. Each breath pulled it deeper into my being, and with every passing second, I felt myself grow stronger. But no answer came. Nothing tangible I could grasp.

Before I could dwell on it further, Vitaliara's voice broke through the quiet. [Did you really have to kill everyone here?] she asked, her tone not accusatory but curious.

I opened my eyes slowly, glancing down at her. She sat beside me, her black fur sleek and untainted by the blood that surrounded us, her green eyes watching me intently.

"Did I?" I murmured, repeating her question aloud as I considered it. My gaze drifted back to the bodies lying in disarray around the inn. Men who had spent their lives taking what they wanted, killing for their own gain, and extorting the weak. And now, they had become part of the cycle of death.

Vitaliara's eyes narrowed slightly [I mean, I understand the reasoning... but was it necessary to kill every last one? Some of them could've been spared, couldn't they?]

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Spared? You know better than that, Vitaliara. The moment I let even one of them live, they would have spread the word about me. And you know how things work. It's not just about survival; it's about reputation.

These bandits... if I'd left any of them alive, I'd only be inviting trouble."

[So, it's about reputation?] she pressed. [You are not the one to care about such things.]

"Well….That's indeed not the reason." I admitted, my eyes falling on one of the lifeless faces nearby. "They chose this path….. They preyed on the weak, killed without mercy, and lived by a code of power. It's only fitting that they died by that same code."

[Hehe…Not bad.]

"Was that another test?"

[Just to see if you can survive for long.]

Vitaliara's voice lingered in my mind. [Those who act heroic and believe in second chances often don't get one themselves.]

I couldn't help but smile at that, nodding as I rose to my feet. "That rhymed well," I mused, brushing the dust from my coat. The death mana in the room had been fully absorbed, leaving a strange emptiness in the air where the life force had once lingered. The tavern now felt like a hollow shell, a graveyard for the souls that had once thrived on greed and violence.

As I started to walk toward the door, I glanced down at my estoc, its once gleaming surface now marred by new scratches and dull spots. The blade, which had once been a testament to precision and elegance, was beginning to show signs of wear from the skirmish.

"Tsk," I muttered under my breath, inspecting the blade with a critical eye. "Not my best work."

Vitaliara's voice chimed in with a teasing edge, [You played around quite a bit in there. If you hadn't toyed with them so much, your blade might've been in better shape.]

I sighed, flipping the estoc in my hand and sheathing it with a soft click. "True enough. I got a little carried away. But then again, it was entertaining."

[Entertaining for you, maybe,] she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. [But now look at your sword. You're going to have to deal with it before long, or else it'll fail you at the worst moment.]

"I know," I grumbled.

As I strolled through the quiet streets, I could feel their eyes on me. The people who dared to peek from behind windows or glance as I passed didn't hide their fear. It was in their quickened steps, the way they clutched their belongings tighter as if proximity to me might somehow taint them. A few whispers spread, but none dared to approach.

It was funny, in a way, watching how they recoiled as if I were some sort of beast—well, perhaps I was. After all, I had just beheaded a bunch of their local tormentors in cold blood. Even now, the faint scent of iron clung to my clothes, and some streaks of blood had dried on my sleeves. To them, I must have seemed like some kind of executioner.

'Hmph,' I mused, shaking my head with a small smile. 'I'm not here for their approval anyway.'

The fear in their eyes didn't discourage me; if anything, it was a sign that things were unfolding exactly as they should. Fear is the natural way of things—fear of the strong, fear of death, fear of the unknown. It kept people in line and made them understand the reality of this world. Whether they viewed me as a savior or a monster didn't matter. They wouldn't challenge me. And that was the point.

It was easy for them to forget that in the chaos of war, people like me were often the ones keeping them alive, whether by subduing threats or simply being someone too dangerous for others to attack. As long as I got the job done, their opinions meant nothing.

Vitaliara stirred atop my head, her soft fur brushing against my skin as she shifted. [They're looking at you like you're a monster,] she commented, though her tone was more amused than concerned.

"I wonder why," I replied dryly. "I only decapitated a few people right in front of them. People they hated, but people nonetheless."

[You seem to enjoy it, though,] she teased.

I shrugged. "Fear is a tool. Let them fear me. At least then they won't become a problem."

[Heh, and you wonder why they won't look you in the eye,] she snickered, her tail swishing lazily.

I smirked. "As long as they stay out of my way, I don't care what they think."

That was how things needed to happen anyway.

"But now, I need to move fast."

[They will eventually find out about this, won't they?]

"Indeed."

I glanced around at the fearful faces, knowing the clock was ticking. The bandits wouldn't stay in the dark for long. Word would spread, and Korvan's men would start sniffing around, trying to piece together what had happened. And when they did, the people here—innocent or not—could easily become targets.

The bandits might assume I'd done this to protect someone in town, that there was a connection they weren't aware of. That's how their minds worked—revenge through proxy, through the weak and vulnerable. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that these people could suffer for no reason at all.

[Vitaliara's tail flicked lazily as she perched atop my head.] [So, what's the plan?]

"The plan," I replied, my tone firm, "is to move fast. Before Korvan's men can regroup or retaliate. If they think someone here is responsible, they'll start picking off targets. Better to cut them down at the source before they get a chance."

The locations I had gotten from Roderick and some other bandits were invaluable. It gave me the freedom to move, to hit the bandits before they could organize any sort of counterattack. I knew that taking out Lothar and his crew was just the beginning, but with their network spread thin, I could exploit the gaps and gather even more information as I went.

'And not all the bandits know about the entire network,' I thought. While interrogating them, there were still some locations that were blank.

'But, this should be enough.'

Eventually, we would be getting there anyway.

That was what all mattered at the end.

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