Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra-Chapter 487: Master (3)

Aeliana felt… strange.

The room, the voices, the weight of her father's glare—none of it fully registered. It was as if her mind had split into two: one half replaying Madeleina's words over and over, the other fixating on Lucavion's unsettling ease as he had spoken.

Madeleina's voice still echoed in her skull. "She took and took and took—until there was nothing left of you!"

Aeliana's jaw clenched.

It wasn't true.

No—it wasn't that simple.

What else could she have done? What would Madeleina have done, if she were the one trapped in that sickbed? If she were the one who had spent years suffocating under everyone's expectations, unable to change anything, unable to be anything other than what they saw?

It was easy to speak from the outside.

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Easy to judge.

Aeliana exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking off the lingering weight of those thoughts. Enough.

She wasn't going to let Madeleina of all people rattle her.

And yet—

Her eyes flickered sideways.

Lucavion.

She hadn't reacted at the moment—too caught up in her own storm—but now, in the aftermath, she found herself replaying his words.

The way he had spoken to Madeleina.

The way he had peeled her apart like he had seen her before.

Not just as a manipulator. Not just as a liar.

But as someone he recognized.

'You, who have never felt the loss of someone you wanted to save…'

Aeliana's fingers twitched.

That kind of certainty didn't come from mere observation. That was spoken from experience.

And that was what unsettled her.

Because there were already too many unknowns about Lucavion—too many things she didn't understand.

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Aeliana had read many books in her years of confinement. Histories, battle records, political strategies—anything to make the world beyond her room feel less like a dream and more like something tangible.

And in those pages, there were countless ominous names.

The Bloodhound of Raviel. The Butcher of Hallow's End. The Phantom Reaper.

So when she first heard Sword Demon, her initial reaction was mild.

A title like that could belong to anyone—a half-decent swordsman who had caused some trouble but would eventually be forgotten. If she hadn't heard of it before, then it was either recent or insignificant.

But as she listened—

As she watched—

She realized something was wrong.

Her father's expression.

She had seen him angry before. Seen him serious, seen him melancholic.

But never like this.

Never stressed.

Or maybe—

Fearful.

The way his jaw had locked. The way his grip had subtly tightened. The way his eyes, sharp and unwavering, seemed to darken with something close to dread.

And then—

Then she heard it.

"Starscourge Gerald."

Her breath caught.

That was a name that needed no introduction.

A name etched into history.

A name so infamous, so legendary, that even she—trapped within the walls of her sickness—had read about him.

The lone swordsman who had carved through armies.

The man who had broken battle formations that were thought to be impenetrable.

The warrior who had once stood against an empire—and forced it to retreat.

Aeliana's gaze flickered to Lucavion.

The casual way he had spoken. The ease with which he let the words fall from his lips.

Like it was nothing.

Like it was natural.

Her heartbeat quickened.

If Lucavion's master was him—

Then who the hell was Lucavion?

"What?"

The word slipped past Aeliana's lips before she could stop it.

It wasn't just surprise—it was realization.

Slowly, piece by piece, things started falling into place.

Lucavion's strength. His unnatural precision. The way he fought like someone who had seen countless battles, despite his age.

His energy.

That strange black light—fluid, shifting, laced with glimmering stars.

No one else had ever displayed anything like it. No one else had ever seen anything like it.

And now—

Now, she knew why.

Because there was only one man in history known for wielding something similar.

Starscourge Gerald.

A man who defied conventions. A warrior who had once stood alone against an empire.

His power was an anomaly, something that scholars, mages, and historians alike had failed to understand.

And Lucavion—

His power was the same.

The realization sent a shiver down her spine.

She had felt it before, hadn't she? That same eerie sensation when she first saw him fight. That same gut feeling that something about him was different, something beyond just skill or talent.

And now, she understood why.

Lucavion—this man sitting so casually before them, smirking as if this were all a game—

Had been trained by the one person who had once rewritten the rules of war itself.

Lucavion leaned back in his seat, his smirk deepening. The very picture of ease, as if the weight of his words wasn't still settling like a storm in the room.

"What? Are you surprised, Little Ember?"

Aeliana felt her mouth twitch. This guy—

Even now, even after throwing that revelation into the air, he was still acting like this? Like he had just told her the weather, rather than upending everything she thought she knew?

She refused to let him get away with it so easily.

"That's a pretty big statement," she said, tilting her chin slightly. "There have been countless people who claimed they were acquaintances of Starscourge Gerald. None of them were telling the truth."

She let the words hang, watching him carefully.

'Let's wipe that expression off your face, you bastard.'

Lucavion hummed, completely unfazed. If anything, the amusement in his dark eyes only grew.

"Hmm? That makes sense. There are countless leeches that would do that."

He didn't even try to argue. Didn't try to defend himself. Just acknowledged the statement like it was a passing comment.

That irritated her more than it should have.

"Then—" she started, but—

"I've told you before, but let me repeat myself."

Lucavion cut her off smoothly, his voice dipping lower, quieter.

"I don't lie."

Aeliana stiffened slightly.

There was something in his tone.

Something unwavering.

Something that made the air feel heavier.

His smirk hadn't faded, but it was different now—less playful, more certain.

Like a man who had no need to convince anyone.

Because he already knew the truth.

And as much as Aeliana wanted to push back—

She had a feeling she wouldn't win this time.

"Then… if that is true…" Aeliana narrowed her eyes, her voice measured, careful. "What exactly are you here for?"

She could feel her father's gaze flicker between them, silent but watching. Calculating.

"You are the disciple of one of the strongest in the entire world. So why are you here?" Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her dress. *"And—" she tilted her head, "wasn't Starscourge Gerald affiliated with the Loria Empire?"

Lucavion said nothing, merely listening. His expression unreadable now.

"Why did you think it was a good idea to come here, to the enemy nation, and reveal this fact?" Her amber eyes glinted. "Don't you think we will take you as a prisoner to blackmail Starscourge Gerald?"

Silence.

For the first time since their conversation began, Lucavion didn't immediately smirk, didn't throw back a teasing remark.

He simply stayed still.

The playfulness in his dark eyes dimmed, just slightly.

Then—

"Well… There is no need to do that."

His voice was quieter now, devoid of amusement.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Aeliana caught the faintest shift in his expression.

It wasn't sadness.

But it was something close.

"Since Master is no longer here."

The words settled into the chamber like a weight.

Heavy. Absolute.

Aeliana's breath caught.

Her father, who had been so still, so tense, exhaled sharply through his nose. His fingers, still curled against his chair, tightened further.

And Lucavion—

Lucavion simply sat there, his usual grin absent.

Not mourning. Not grieving.

Just stating a fact.

Starscourge Gerald—the man who had once rewritten the course of war.

Was gone.