Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

His quill moved again.

And this time, the words came easily.

The feeling lasted for exactly one question.

Lucavion discovered that rather quickly.

The next problem carried the Mana Imprint principle into a more complicated structure, where several preserved conditions interacted through a shared framework and each change produced consequences elsewhere. He could follow the general relationship well enough to understand why the structure became unstable, yet the terminology surrounding the actual mechanism might as well have belonged to another language. Two expressions appeared repeatedly in the description, both of which the Academy clearly expected every properly educated student to recognize, and neither offered enough surrounding context for him to reconstruct their meaning with confidence.

He stared at the page for a while, attempted one explanation, then stopped before the sentence became something he would be embarrassed to defend aloud.

’There you are again.’

Education.

It kept returning with remarkable persistence.

His understanding of the previous question had come from experience so recent that his meridians still carried the ache of earning it. This one asked him to take the same foundation and move several steps farther, through concepts developed and refined by generations of magicians who had already encountered the problems he was only beginning to recognize.

Lucavion understood the direction.

The road itself remained unfamiliar.

He wrote what he could, left the formal derivation incomplete, and moved on.

That became the rhythm of the remaining examination.

Tier II contained fewer questions than Tier I, though each one demanded considerably more once opened. A single scenario could occupy an entire page, beginning with a magical structure, adding environmental conditions, introducing a failure halfway through its operation, then asking the student to explain what had happened and what should change afterward. Others presented several possible approaches and demanded justification rather than selection, which meant guessing correctly offered very little value when the reasoning beneath the answer remained absent.

Lucavion found that he preferred those.

At least when he understood the subject.

Whenever a problem concerned movement, pressure, resource expenditure, structural weakness, or the consequences created by a decision, he could usually find something to hold onto. Sometimes Bruce supplied the frame. Sometimes Lucavion’s battlefield experience did. Occasionally both lives approached the same problem from different directions and reached something useful in the middle.

Then an unfamiliar term would appear, carrying an entire body of assumed knowledge behind two innocent-looking words, and the ground beneath him would disappear again.

One question relied upon a classification system used for layered runic arrays.

He knew three of the classifications.

The fourth meant nothing to him.

The whole solution depended upon the fourth.

His quill remained above the page for several breaths before he moved forward.

Another described an interaction between two affinity types and expected knowledge of how their mana signatures affected a standard binding framework. Lucavion could imagine several possibilities from experience, though imagining them and knowing which behavior Academy research had already established were entirely different things.

He left half of that answer empty as well.

Then came a historical application problem disguised beneath enough practical detail that he wasted several minutes believing he could solve it, only to reach the final section and discover that the entire scenario depended upon recognizing an obsolete method developed during an Arcanian magical dispute more than a century earlier.

Lucavion stared at the scholar’s name.

The scholar remained stubbornly unfamiliar.

His quill tapped once against the desk.

’I hope you were very important.’

Perhaps the examiner would appreciate that.

Probably not.

He continued.

Around him, the hall had fallen into the peculiar silence produced by more than a hundred people thinking too hard in the same place. Quills scratched against enchanted paper in uneven bursts. Occasionally someone shifted in their chair, or released a long breath after finally reaching an answer, while the invigilators moved between the rows with such measured footsteps that their presence gradually blended into the rhythm of the examination itself.

Time passed strangely inside that rhythm.

Lucavion stopped measuring it after the first hour.

His headache from the earlier memory had faded almost entirely, leaving behind only the occasional pressure whenever his eyes remained fixed on dense script for too long. His body fared slightly worse. Chamber 3C had collected its payment gradually, and sitting still gave him enough quiet to notice the soreness running beneath his ribs and along several meridian routes he had strained before discovering the principle of Mana Imprint.

He adjusted his posture.

The discomfort eased.

His attention returned to the folio.

A final applied section waited.

He answered one problem cleanly, managed perhaps half of another, and spent several minutes dismantling a third before realizing that he lacked the foundational concept required to finish it. By then, irritation had given way to something more useful.

Lucavion had begun recognizing the borders.

That interested him.

Before the Academy, ignorance had often arrived as a vague inconvenience. He knew there were things magicians studied that he had never touched, just as he knew noble heirs spent years receiving instruction unavailable to soldiers learning beneath rain and steel. Those absences had remained distant because his own methods worked well enough for the problems he actually faced.

Now the missing pieces possessed shapes.

He could see where his understanding stopped.

He could see the places where intuition carried him into the problem, only for terminology to block the next step, and he could distinguish those from the places where even perfect terminology would have done little because the principle itself remained unfamiliar.

That difference mattered.

Lucavion’s quill slowed.

’So this is what I lack.’

The thought sat more comfortably than he expected.

Perhaps because a weakness with edges could be studied.

A weakness without edges merely waited to surprise him.

The final page appeared.

Lucavion worked through it carefully, reached the last answer space, then read the remaining prompt twice before deciding that whatever heroic act of reasoning the Academy expected from him required knowledge he simply did not possess.

He left the space empty.

His fingers loosened around the quill.

For several breaths, he sat there while the folio remained open beneath him, its pages carrying a strange mixture of dense answers, scratched corrections, incomplete explanations, and several unapologetically blank spaces.

Tier II had gone...

Lucavion tilted his head slightly.

’Somewhere between respectable and educationally concerning.’

Fair enough.

A silver line appeared along the upper edge of the folio.

Then the final bell rang.

—RING.

The sound descended through Grand Lecture Hall A with enough weight to pull every remaining quill to a halt.

"Time."

The silver-haired examiner’s voice carried from the platform.

"Place all writing instruments upon the desk. Examination folios will seal automatically. Students will remain seated until collection is complete."

Lucavion set his quill down.

Across the hall, several people did so much more reluctantly.

One student near the lower rows attempted to finish a final word before the spell reached his desk, only for the ink beneath his quill to flash pale blue and refuse to settle onto the page. A few quiet groans followed from elsewhere, quickly swallowed beneath the first movement of the collection formation.

The blackstone beneath Lucavion’s arms hummed.

Silver lines emerged from within the desk, spreading around the examination folio until they formed a thin rectangular frame. The pages lifted together, though neither wind nor visible hand touched them, and the cover closed over Lucavion’s answers with a soft snap.

His name flashed across the surface.

Lucavion.

Then the entire folio dissolved into pale particles.

He raised an eyebrow.

The same thing occurred across the hall.

More than a hundred sealed examinations broke apart almost simultaneously, filling the descending rows with streams of silver-white light that rose above the desks before curving toward the vaulted ceiling. For several seconds, Grand Lecture Hall A looked less like an examination chamber and more like someone had released a flock of luminous birds beneath its arches.

The streams gathered overhead.

Then they separated according to faculty marks and descended toward several crystal repositories waiting beside the examination platform, reforming into sealed folios one after another.

Lucavion watched the process.

’Showing off.’

There were undoubtedly simpler ways to collect paper.

Then again, if one possessed an ancient magical Academy, perhaps ordinary stacks had become offensive on principle.

The repositories sealed with synchronized clicks.

"Collection complete," one of the invigilators announced.

The ward-screens surrounding the desks faded.

Conversation returned almost instantly.

At first it came as a low murmur, then expanded through the hall as chairs shifted and students finally allowed several hours of frustration to become sound.

"That final structure was absurd."

"You thought that was the difficult one?"

"Don’t speak to me."

"I left half the doctrine section empty."

Someone laughed farther down.

Another person sounded close to mourning.

The silver-haired examiner waited for the noise to settle enough that he could be heard without competing against it.

"You may leave."

That was apparently all the permission the hall required.

Students began rising in clusters.

Lucavion remained seated.

His gaze had returned to the place where the folio had vanished.

More specifically, to one question that remained considerably clearer than everything surrounding it.

A sustained mana imprint preserves the intended shape and position...

His fingers shifted against the desk.

Preservation as immobility.

A range rather than a fixed state.

The idea had made sense while he wrote it.

Now that the examination had ended, it began moving again inside his thoughts.

Inside Chamber 3C, he had discovered the principle by accident because his previous method had started tearing at him. He gave those spheres enough instruction to keep themselves within acceptable limits, then allowed the surrounding mana to move them instead of treating every change as something that needed immediate opposition.

But the examination had framed the problem differently.

The imprint itself had been perfect.

That was what bothered him.

Perfectly preserved shape.

Perfectly preserved position.

Perfectly wrong once the environment changed.

Lucavion’s eyes narrowed slightly.

’So the problem wasn’t really the strength of the imprint.’

It was what the imprint believed success looked like.

His thumb traced once across the edge of the desk.

That felt important.

A magical structure could perform exactly as instructed and still fail because the instruction had become unsuitable.

Which meant...

His attention dropped toward his hand.

For one dangerous instant, he wanted to try it.

Just a little Equinox mana.

A small manifestation above his palm.

Give it shape.

Then pressure.

Then change the condition while preserving the imprint and see what happened when—

The ache beneath his ribs pulsed.

Lucavion stopped.

His expression flattened.

’Right.’

The body had opinions.

Unfortunately.

He could probably manage a small experiment.

He could also probably turn a small experiment into a larger one the moment something interesting happened, then discover several minutes later that Selenne had been correct about understanding the structure before forcing his body through the same lesson twice.

Lucavion rested his hand flat against the desk.

’I’m not that stupid.’

A pause.

’Enough.’

That qualification felt important.

Students continued filing toward the exits while Lucavion remained where he was, his thoughts circling around the same principle from slightly different angles.

Then something touched him.

Barely.

A sensation more than pressure.

His attention shifted.

Someone was looking at him.

Lucavion lifted his head.

Lavender eyes met his across the thinning crowd.

Isolde.

She stood several rows lower, surrounded by a small group of students already gathering around her as they prepared to leave. Two wore Lorian colors. Another Lucavion vaguely recognized from yesterday’s examination. One young noblewoman was speaking to Isolde directly, judging by the way her face remained turned toward her, while another waited at her shoulder with the patient attention people naturally gave someone whose rank made departure a group activity.

Yet Isolde’s eyes were on him.

Lucavion went still.

So did something older inside him.

For a heartbeat, the hall seemed strangely narrow.

White-blonde hair caught the light spilling through the upper windows, turning almost silver along its edges, while her pale complexion and immaculate posture gave her the same porcelain beauty Lucavion remembered far too well. Nothing about her expression revealed strain. Nothing about the people around her suggested they had noticed where her attention had gone.

Then Isolde smiled.

It happened gently.

Beautifully.

The sort of smile that softened her entire face just enough for anyone watching to wonder who had earned it.

And several people did watch.

The young man beside her followed the change with visible curiosity. Another student glanced toward the direction of her gaze before becoming distracted by someone moving between the rows.

Lucavion simply looked back.

He knew that smile.

Or perhaps that was the problem.

He knew too many versions of it.

The girl who had once smiled at a younger Lucavion.

The woman from yesterday whose words could place three meanings beneath a single courtesy.

The Isolde who had learned long ago that people looked more closely at beauty than at the hand moving behind it.

Lucavion’s lips curved.

His own smile answered hers.

Neither of them moved.

Then Isolde turned away.

Just like that.

She said something to the students around her, and the group began moving toward the eastern aisle with her naturally taking the front. Within several seconds, pale hair disappeared between uniforms and Academy robes before the crowd carried her toward the doors.

Lucavion watched the space she had left behind.

’Did that on purpose, didn’t she?’

Of course she had.

Someone surrounded by four people in active conversation had very little reason to spend several seconds staring across an examination hall unless she wanted the person on the other side to notice.

And he had noticed.

Lucavion’s eyes lowered.

A faint residue still lingered through the mana around that distant section of the hall.

Thin.

Almost delicate.

He focused.

There.

The trace had already begun dispersing into the ambient mana, though its origin remained clear enough once he knew where to look. Isolde had threaded mana through her gaze, barely enough to sharpen the sensation of being watched and make his instincts catch upon it.

His smile faded by a fraction.

’That was...’

Intentional.

Certainly.

Aggressive?

That was harder.

A warning after yesterday?

A reminder that she was watching him?

Or had she simply wanted to see whether he would recognize what she had done?

Lucavion exhaled slowly and leaned back against the chair.

"Sigh..."

Understanding magic might actually prove simpler.

His gaze lingered upon the doorway through which Isolde had disappeared.

’You really are difficult to read.’

And coming from him, that was beginning to feel like a compliment.

—————A/N—————

Looking at it back, the written exam tier I, was really lackluster. The writing was subpar and it did not convey any of the things I wanted to. Therefore, the Chapters 1002-1003-1004 has been rewritten, it is much better than before though that would not guarantee the quality.

Aside from that, I did not consider that Lucavion was a noble before he was banished and as a noble he would have received education even if he did not manage to master the family’s spear or cultivate. Now, I have incorporated all these aspects into the written exams as well.

That is another contiunity error solved. As I move forward, I will the continuity errors that I encounter and will update on them.

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