Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra - Chapter 1033 The Pink Knight and the Frost Mage (3)
Chapter 1033 The Pink Knight and the Frost Mage (3)
“Watch the left!”
Another knight came barreling for him.
Elara snapped her fingers—
[Slipcast: Shatter Shard.]
A crystal dagger materialized mid-air at Ren’s flank and detonated—
CRACK!
The burst of frost knocked the knight’s swing off-balance just long enough for Ren to dodge.
“Thanks!” he barked.
Elara didn’t answer.
She was already moving.
The third knight had locked onto Valeria, shield raised, mace glowing. They clashed in a burst of sparks—steel against phantom steel.
Its mace swung in heavy arcs—controlled, calculated—each blow designed not to kill, but to overwhelm. Valeria parried the first strike cleanly, her blade sliding along the phantom metal with a hiss of ghostlight.
The second one—
Too close.
The knight slammed its shield forward, catching Valeria square on the forearm and forcing her back half a step. The illusion’s enchantments crackled: yellow-gold sparks danced where the shield had struck.
Ren cursed. “She’s boxed—”
Elara’s palm lifted—
[Ice Needle—]
But Valeria beat her to it.
Her boot twisted across the fractured stone, weight shifting with a practiced precision that Elara recognized instantly—not in form, but in memory. That was a technique you only learned from real combat, not academy drills.
The knight raised its mace again—
brought it down—
Valeria moved.
Not away.
Through.
She ducked under the swing by an impossibly small margin—hair brushing the shockwave—and used the downward momentum to slide along the knight’s blind angle. Her blade flashed once, a clean silver line against the illusion’s black armor.
CLANG—!
The knight staggered, but Valeria wasn’t finished.
Her wrist rotated, blade turning flat for the briefest heartbeat—
—and she stepped into the knight’s stance, her shoulder brushing past the phantom armor.
A half-spin.
A sharp pivot.
A diagonal cut that traced the exact contour of the knight’s weak point.
Beautiful.
That was the only word Elara’s mind supplied.
The blade struck with such elegance, such punishing precision, that the knight’s form flickered—
stuttered—
then broke apart in brilliant shards of gold light.
Silence.
Then Liliana exhaled all at once. “Okay—holy hell.”
Ren pushed his hair back, wide-eyed. “That wasn’t textbook. That was… something else.”
Valeria straightened, blade lowered at her side. Her breathing was steady. Calm. Controlled.
Her hair fell neatly back into place.
Not a strand out of line.
Elara blinked once, chest tightening faintly—not with fear, but recognition.
She’s strong. Very strong.
And what unsettled Elara wasn’t Valeria’s power.
It was the quiet sense that the Olarion princess hadn’t even started showing her full skill.
Valeria didn’t look satisfied.
She looked… measured.
As if that entire engagement had been a warm-up.
Elara felt the frost at her fingertips fade, her breath steadying. The team took a brief moment to regroup.
Liliana approached first.
“Elowyn,” she said, brow raised, “your casting—how did you bend Snap Freeze like that earlier? And Glacier Vein—yours curves instead of anchoring. That’s not normal.”
Elara hesitated for a fraction of a breath.
‘Right. They saw.’
She forced a faint smile. “I’ve just… been working on it.”
Liliana blinked. “Working on it? That looked like years of refinement—”
Ren cut in. “If that’s what ‘working on it’ looks like, I’m terrified to see what mastery is.”
Elara shrugged lightly. “Practice.”
She kept her tone mild.
Simple.
Forgettable.
But Valeria…
Valeria didn’t forget.
Her purple eyes—sharp as winter steel—rested on Elara with a quiet, unblinking intensity. Not accusatory. Not suspicious.
Just… observant.
As if she were reading the frost lines Elara had carved across the battlefield and dissecting every subtle deviation. As if she understood that Elara’s “unorthodox magic” wasn’t a mere quirk—but a signature.
A breath passed.
Valeria finally looked away. “The next wave is coming.”
As if summoned by her words—
The dome trembled.
A low, vibrating rumble rolled through the illusion ruins like distant thunder approaching fast. The ground beneath their feet shuddered, dust drifting from cracked stone.
The air tightened.
Liliana’s bow rose instinctively. “That’s… heavier than before.”
Ren braced his spear. “What are we expecting?”
Elara felt the mana pressure shift—coiling around their ankles, rising like a cold tide.
‘Something big.’
‘Something coordinated.’
Valeria inhaled once, blade lifting into ready stance.
Her purple gaze locked forward—
steady, poised, unflinching.
“Positions,” she said.
The ruins ahead began to distort—
light bending, stone warping—
as the third wave tore through the dome.
And then—
—KRSHHHHH!
The next threat emerged.
And it was not small.
The distortion didn’t break all at once this time.
It peeled.
Like something behind the illusion was cutting its way through the fabric of the zone itself.
The air buckled.
Stone warped.
A deep, bone-heavy thrum rolled across the field like distant artillery.
Liliana’s breath tightened. “That’s—way too dense for a mid-wave.”
“No kidding,” Ren muttered, spear braced. “What did they put in this batch?”
Elara felt the pressure compress around her ankles first—
mana sinking like cold water rising up her legs.
Valeria’s fingers curled around her hilt.
“Brace.”
The word wasn’t barked.
It didn’t need to be.
It landed with the weight of a command she’d given a thousand times.
The distortion snapped.
—WHOOOOM!
Stone exploded outward in a shower of rubble and dust. A reinforced archway caved inward as something enormous forced its way through the illusion boundary.
A humanoid silhouette.
No—
humanoid only in shape.
It stepped forward, the ground trembling under its weight.
A Basilican Strider.
Valeria’s jaw set. “That’s a mid-4-star construct.”
The Basilican Strider stepped fully into the ruin-field.
Chitin plates glistened in muted gold.
Four limbs—jointed wrong.
A hunched, predatory poise.
Its breath steamed in low, misting exhales that reeked of raw mana.
Ren’s knuckles whitened around his spear.
Liliana’s bowstring creaked.
Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
Elara felt the weight of it settle into the dome—heavy, deliberate, intelligent.
‘Not good.
Not ideal.
But possible.’
Valeria stepped forward one pace.
“Elowyn,” she said quietly, “restrict its movement. Anything that slows its limbs.”
Elara nodded.
She didn’t need to ask how.
Her mind was already moving—rapid, instinctive calculations snapping together like winter branches under strain.
‘Striders lean right when they lunge.
Joint spacing: narrow. Faster than knights but weaker at the hind pivot.
If I can force the pivot to misalign—
Valeria can strike the opening.’
Ren shot her a quick glance. “You know this thing?”
“Enough,” Elara murmured.
The Strider moved.
Not charged.
Appeared.
It lunged with terrifying acceleration, its claws carving a deep trench into the fractured stone as it launched itself across the field.
Liliana shouted, “Incoming!”
Ren braced—
Valeria pivoted—
Elara moved.
[Glacier Vein.]
A spiral of ice raced outward, not in a straight line—
but in a curve, hugging the ground like a frost serpent.
The Strider’s front limb stabbed down to adjust its weight—
and hit the slick curve—
SKRRR—!
It didn’t slip.
It overcompensated.
Its posture angled too far inward, weight punching onto its lead limb at the wrong moment.
Valeria saw it instantly.
“Elowyn—again.”
‘She understands the angle. Good.’
Elara dropped lower—
hand to the ground—
mana twisting into another curved path—
[Glacier Vein—secondary loop.]
The second spiral intersected the first, forming a subtle, icy arc that forced the Strider’s back legs into a tighter stance.
Its movement was still fast.
Still lethal.
But suddenly—
Predictable.
Valeria blurred forward.
Her footsteps were nearly silent on the stone. Her blade lifted in a clean, precise line—an angle Elara hadn’t seen before.
A stance built not on flourish—
but inevitability.
[Sword of Olarion: Knight’s Descent.]
Valeria vanished for half a heartbeat.
The air split in a silver arc.
CLANG—!
Her strike slammed into the Strider’s upper carapace, carving across the joint of its raised limb. Sparks—golden illusion sparks—scattered in a fan.
The monster reeled.
Ren lunged in, spear thrusting toward the exposed knee joint.
“Push it back!”
Ren’s strike forced the Strider sideways, but it retaliated instantly—
a sweeping backhand of its elongated arm.
“Elowyn—”
Already on it.
[Shiver Pulse.]
A rippling wave of frost burst from her palm, crawling across the ground and crawling up the Strider’s chitin.
The creature stuttered—
limb twitching at the sudden cold in its false nervous system.
Valeria’s gaze flicked toward Elara once.
Approval—not spoken, not shown—
just felt.
Then she moved again.
Her gaze tracked the Strider’s stagger—
its limbs twitching under Elara’s frost, its footing compromised, its carapace split at the upper joint.
She moved closer, breath steady, blade low.
Then—
She muttered something under her breath.
