Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 226: Ch : An Invasion- Part 3

The moment Kyle stepped into the enemy camp, the ground itself seemed to still.

He made no attempt to mask his presence; instead, he allowed his aura to flood the field like a rising tide, oppressive and sharp.

The soldiers nearby stiffened, their instincts screaming danger.

It didn’t take long before the Saintess and the Grand Priest appeared at the front of the formation, both cloaked in holy vestments that shimmered faintly with divine energy.

"Well, well. The young master of the cursed village. I commend your wisdom for understanding the futility of resistance. Have you come to surrender?"

The Grand Priest said, folding his hands behind his back.

Kyle didn’t bother replying. His expression remained cold, eyes sweeping the crowd as if assessing the worth of each soul present.

Unbothered by the silence, the Grand Priest gave a signal, and a young priest stepped forward from the ranks, moving to bind Kyle.

"I suggest you stop. One step closer and I won’t hold back."

Kyle said, voice calm but heavy with intent.

The priest hesitated for a split second—but the confidence instilled in him by his elders overcame reason. He lunged forward.

A flash of silver cleaved the air.

By the time anyone processed what had happened, the priest’s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless and cleanly sliced.

Gasps erupted all around. Some stepped back. Others gripped their weapons, hearts racing.

The Saintess narrowed her eyes.

"Are you declaring war on the divine? You stand before the vessel of the Goddess herself. You will find no forgiveness for this insult."

She asked.

Kyle’s eyes flicked to her, indifferent.

"I’m not here to declare anything. I’m here to offer one final warning. Turn back. Leave this land. Or every last one of you will be buried here."

His tone was plain, but it held a chilling conviction. The Saintess’s hands trembled slightly. Whether from rage or fear, even she couldn’t be sure.

"You dare mock our cause? You are a child with a sword—nothing more. The Goddess’s will is absolute, and we are her hand. You? You’re barely a shadow of a man."

The Grand Priest snapped.

He turned to the Saintess.

"It’s time. Show this arrogant boy the weight of divinity."

The Saintess took a breath, raising her staff. Holy glyphs shimmered around her, pulsing with divine mana.

Light bloomed at her feet, radiant and pure. The clouds above parted, a beam of energy descending as if summoned by the heavens themselves.

Her voice echoed, layered with another that did not belong to her—a whisper of the Goddess’s power speaking through her.

Most would kneel under such pressure.

But Kyle did not.

He stood there, unwavering, watching the display with a faint, bitter smile.

"What’s wrong? Waiting for me to kneel? Submit?"

Kyle asked, lifting a hand.

The divine light surged toward him—but stopped, sputtering out just a few feet before touching him, unable to land the blow.

Confusion rippled across the Saintess’s face. The Grand Priest stepped forward, eyes wide.

"Impossible. That was divine judgment—!"

Kyle raised his sword. The edge shimmered faintly with his mana, saturated with his essence and resolve.

"You think the divine can reach me? The heavens rejected me once. I dragged myself through the abyss and climbed out with teeth and blood. I’ve already faced gods and what they left behind."

He asked, voice low.

His mana swelled around him, pressing back against the holy energy. Cracks formed beneath his feet from the sheer force of it.

"I won’t repeat myself. You have until nightfall to retreat. After that, I won’t hold back."

The Grand Priest clenched his fists, veins pulsing.

"Blasphemer...!"

But the Saintess held up a hand, stopping him. Her eyes remained fixed on Kyle, sweat beading her forehead.

The divine within her trembled.

For a moment—just a breath—she felt as though something far older and darker than her goddess stood in front of her. Something that had seen the divine... and chosen defiance.

"...You’re not human."

She whispered.

Kyle turned his back on them without another word.

That single act of dismissal stung more than any insult.

The Grand Priest screamed after him.

"You won’t walk away from this!"

But Kyle didn’t stop. The soldiers, once ready to charge, hesitated. The ground still felt heavy with his presence, and none dared test his warning.

As Kyle walked calmly back toward the village, his eyes rose to the sky.

"Let’s see how long your goddess can protect you. I’ll carve her truths apart, one miracle at a time."

He muttered.

The Saintess trembled with barely contained fury, her grip tightening around her staff as Kyle turned away.

His words echoed in her mind—sharp, blasphemous, a direct challenge not just to her authority but to the Goddess itself. Her knuckles turned white as her breathing grew rapid.

"You will regret every word you said against Her! You may have defied Her light once, but divine punishment is absolute!"

She shouted, voice shaking with rage.

Raising her staff high, she began to chant, invoking sacred syllables that glowed with gold and white light.

Her mana flared wildly, seeking to answer the call of divinity.

But the casting was slow, the flow of her mana unsteady. Her breath was already uneven, her body straining to handle the sacred power she had been forcing herself to wield for days.

Before the final verse could leave her lips, Kyle reappeared in front of her in a blink. She gasped, too stunned to react.

With calm efficiency, Kyle grabbed her staff mid-chant, his hand closing around it just below the golden headpiece.

His own mana flared—a dense, suffocating black-blue that swallowed the Saintess’s glow with ease. As it surged around the staff, her casting shattered like a mirror under a hammer.

The divine light faltered and died instantly.

The Saintess staggered back, still holding onto her staff, but Kyle didn’t let go. His grip was iron.

"Your tricks won’t work on me. I’m not weak like the others you’ve crushed under borrowed power."

He said coldly.

She grit her teeth, fury bubbling up again as her face flushed.

"Let go! You dare touch a relic of the Goddess—!"

She demanded, trying to pull her staff away.

But no matter how hard she pulled or twisted, the staff didn’t budge.

Kyle stood his ground, barely moving, eyes steady and devoid of fear.

"You don’t understand. This world doesn’t need blind followers. It needs people who think. Who act. Not tools who scream ’divine’ and hope the world kneels."

He said, his voice steady and unyielding.

The Saintess let out a frustrated cry and shoved her weight backward, trying to tear the staff free.

But her strength was nothing compared to Kyle’s, especially now that he had absorbed the mana from the trial.

"You mock what you don’t comprehend. She chose me—"

She hissed.

"Then maybe it’s time you asked yourself why."

Kyle interrupted, eyes narrowing.

The Saintess faltered. For a moment, her grip loosened.

Kyle let go of the staff with a slight push that forced her a step back.

"I’m giving you a chance. Take it. Leave. Because next time, I won’t stop at your staff."

He said, voice low.

He turned again, this time for real.

The Saintess stood frozen, her chest heaving, hands gripping the staff like a lifeline.

And for the first time, uncertainty flickered in her eyes.