Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra

–THUD!

Stroud's fist collided with my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over, gasping for breath, the sudden pain radiating through my body.

–THUD!

Before I could recover, another punch landed on my side, sending me sprawling to the floor.

"Get up, Lucavion Thorne," Stroud sneered, towering over me. "The Viscount instructed me to take good care of you, and I'm just following orders."

I struggled to my feet, my body protesting with every movement. Stroud didn't give me a chance to steady myself before he struck again, a swift kick to my ribs that sent me crashing into the wall. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and I knew that this beating was meant to break me, to remind me of my place.

"You're nothing here," Stroud spat, grabbing me by the collar and hauling me up. "Just another criminal, another piece of expendable fodder. Do you understand that?"

I nodded weakly, the world spinning around me. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg or plead. I would endure this just as I had endured everything else.

"Good," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Remember that. You will receive no special treatment, no favors. You will fight and die like the rest of them."

He released me, and I crumpled to the floor, every part of my body screaming in pain. Stroud stood over me, his cold eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Get up," he ordered. "Your training will start tomorrow. Though, as a noble, you should already know a thing or two…..Or maybe not."

Stroud's command rang in my ears, and with a painful effort, I forced myself to my feet, my vision swimming. The taste of blood lingered in my mouth, and every part of my body screamed in agony. But I stood, refusing to let him see me broken.

"You are dismissed," he said, his smirk still in place as he watched me struggle to remain upright.

I turned and left the room, my steps unsteady and my mind reeling from the beating. As I stepped into the corridor, I was greeted by a soldier standing by the door. He had broad shoulders and a strong, chiseled face, his eyes cold and assessing as they met mine.

"I'm Sergeant Brann," he introduced himself, his voice devoid of emotion. "I'll be taking you to the barracks, where you and the other prisoners will spend the night."

I nodded, too exhausted to respond verbally, and followed him down the dimly lit corridor. The silence between us was heavy; the only sound was the echo of our footsteps on the stone floor. My mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead, the fear and uncertainty gnawing at me.

As we walked, Sergeant Brann glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "You're young to be in a place like this," he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "What did you do to end up here?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. "It's a long story," I finally said, my voice hoarse. "One that involves accusations I didn't have a chance to refute."

"That is what all the criminals here say all the time." He replied. "What crime have you been convicted for?"

I did not reply to his question. Because I felt like if I were to reply to the answer, it would look like I was accepting the act.

And I do not.

Never.

"….."

Brann's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't press further. Instead, he gave a small nod. "This place is ruthless and cold," he said, his tone turning serious. "You need to be careful, not just of the enemies you'll face, but of the people inside here as well. Trust is a rare commodity, and betrayal is common."

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I nodded in understanding. "I'll be careful," I replied, my resolve strengthening. "I'll survive this."

After all, in this world, one can even be abandoned by their parents or the person they thought they loved.

So, why can some random people you have met in the military do the same?

Brann's gaze softened for a moment, a flicker of something almost like pity crossing his features before his usual stoic expression returned. "Good," he said simply. "Stay alert and watch your back."

We continued down the corridor until we reached a heavy wooden door. Brann pushed it open, revealing a large, dimly lit room filled with rows of narrow cots. The air was thick with the smell of unwashed bodies and stale sweat.

The room was filled with other prisoners; their faces a mix of hostility and indifference as they took in my presence.

"This is where you'll sleep," Brann said, gesturing to an empty cot near the back. "Rest while you can. Training starts at dawn, and it won't be easy."

I nodded and made my way to the cot, my body aching with every step. As I lay down, the rough fabric of the blanket scratched against my skin, but I was too exhausted to care. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sounds and smells around me, and let sleep take me.

But it was not that easy.

After all, for my whole life, I had always stayed in my family's mansion all the time. And whether it was regrettable or not, life as a noble could not even be compared to this.

All of the habits that I had developed over time were still there, and it was not easy for me to completely remove them or anything.

The habits and expectations ingrained in me from a lifetime of privilege clashed with the harshness of my new environment. I struggled to find a semblance of comfort, but it was a futile effort. The sounds of restless prisoners, the creaking of cots, and the occasional muffled whispers added to my unease.

Just as I was beginning to drift into a fitful doze, a presence loomed over me. My instincts screamed at me, and I turned quickly to see three figures towering above me, their expressions dark and menacing even in the dim light. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and adrenaline surging through my veins.

One of them, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, stepped forward. His eyes burned with hatred and anger. Before I could react, his hand shot out, wrapping around my throat in a vice-like grip.

"It's because of you nobles that I'm here!" he snarled, his voice low and venomous.

His grip tightened, cutting off my air supply, and I gasped, struggling to breathe. Panic set in as I clawed at his hand, but his strength was overwhelming. With a swift motion, he drew back his other fist and slammed it into my face.

–THUD!

Pain exploded behind my eyes, and my vision blurred. The taste of blood filled my mouth as I tried to regain my bearings.

The other two men watched with grim satisfaction, their faces twisted with anger and resentment. They were taking out their frustrations on me, seeing me as the embodiment of the injustice they had suffered.

"You think you're better than us?" the man holding me spat, his grip unrelenting. "You think your fancy title means anything here?"

I couldn't answer, couldn't even breathe, as he continued to squeeze. My vision darkened, and my strength began to fade. Desperation clawed at me, and I kicked out, trying to break free, but it was no use.

I even moved my mana to enhance my body, but since I had yet to reach the second realm, I was not able to gather enough strength at all. Adding to the fact that I was hungry and tired, my body hadn't prioritized my mana at all.

The other two men joined in, raining blows upon me as I struggled to stay conscious.

In the midst of the assault, suddenly, someone appeared right behind them. It was Sergeant Brann. His imposing figure cast a shadow over the men, and the sight of him made them freeze in their tracks, their faces filled with horror.

"I knew something like this was going to happen," Brann said, his voice low and dangerous.

The man holding me loosened his grip, and I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. The attackers turned to face Brann, their expressions a mix of fear and confusion.

"What are you doing?" Brann demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked at each of them in turn.

The men stammered, unable to find their words. "We... we were just... he... he's a noble..."

Brann's gaze hardened. "Have you not been warned about causing a scene in this place?"

The men shook their heads, their fear evident. "We didn't know, Sergeant. Nobody told us."

Brann smirked a cold, merciless smile that sent a shiver down my spine. "If you didn't know before, you know now."

–SWOOSH!

With a swift motion, Brann drew his blade, and before the attackers could react, he swung it in a deadly arc.

–THUD! THUD! THUD!

The sound of steel slicing through flesh filled the air, and the heads of the three men fell to the ground, their bodies collapsing in a lifeless heap.

The room fell silent, the only sound the dripping of blood on the cold stone floor. The other prisoners watched in stunned horror, their faces pale and their eyes wide with shock.

Brann wiped his blade on one of the fallen men's shirts, then sheathed it. He turned to the rest of the room, his expression stern as if nothing happened.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you," he said, his voice cold and authoritative. "There will be no tolerance for insubordination or violence within these walls. You are here to train, to fight, and to die for the Empire. Any deviation from that will be met with the harshest punishment."

No one could answer at all.

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