Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 108: Ch : A Dangerous Plan - Part 4

The first rays of sunlight hadn't yet touched the sky when Kyle opened his eyes.

The world was silent—too silent—and the air was thick with tension and magic. His instincts prickled even before his feet touched the ground.

Mana was rising fast, wrapping itself around the village like a coiled serpent waiting to strike.

He dressed swiftly, securing his weapons with practiced hands. Every breath he took, he could feel the divine energy accumulating.

The ritual was underway.

Reaching out with his bond, Kyle sent a mental command to Queen.

'Get Silvy ready.'

The hawk, resting by the window, let out a quiet, sharp cry and soared into the sky, vanishing into the soft, dark hue of the pre-dawn air.

Kyle stepped out into the village square and paused.

His brows furrowed. The streets were empty, but not with the usual peace of sleep. No birds sang, no windows creaked open.

It was… still.

Too still.

He crouched beside the nearest villager, slumped against a bench. Their breathing was shallow, peaceful—but unnaturally so. Kyle placed his hand gently over the villager's chest and frowned.

Their mana was being drawn out.

It wasn't death. Not yet.

But every villager was being used like a mana conduit to fuel the summoning. He rose, his eyes hard.

'I need to hurry.'

Kyle sprinted through the streets, moving with purpose. His senses sharpened as he neared the temple.

He looked up just once—Queen soared overhead in wide arcs. Then, he felt Silvy.

Her mana flared like a beacon, sharp and potent, from her vantage point across the square.

It was controlled, condensed, and far more powerful than she had shown before.

Kyle smirked.

'Good. She's ready.'

But as he stepped toward the temple, a pair of guards moved to block him.

"Stop right there—"

One began, but he never finished.

Kyle blurred between them, hands moving with precision.

A quick strike to the side of the neck, a twist of the wrist—and both guards crumpled without even a shout.

More came, but they fell just as easily. Kyle was too quick, too exact. Their training didn't matter.

Only when he reached the main stairway did the air shift.

A stronger pressure pressed against his skin, and from the top step, the familiar voice of High Inquisitor Charles rang out.

"Are you here to support the ritual, stranger?"

Kyle raised his gaze.

Charles stood with his usual calm, hands folded behind his back like a benevolent priest. But the surge of mana around him was anything but kind.

Kyle gave a slow smile.

"I'm here to support myself."

Charles sighed.

"A shame."

Without warning, more guards surged from behind the temple walls—these ones sharper, more fluid in their movements.

Their auras were stronger. Elite temple guards.

Kyle had no time to waste.

They came at him in unison, blades flashing.

Kyle danced between strikes, his body flowing with trained ease.

Every punch, kick, or throw was calculated. Bones cracked, bodies hit the ground—but it wasn't without effort.

His lungs burned, and his body strained. Unlike before, he had to exert himself now.

And then Charles moved.

The High Inquisitor stepped forward, raising one hand. A golden sigil burned into the air, and Kyle's instincts screamed.

The force of the divine mana slammed into him like a wave, pushing him back.

He gritted his teeth, anchoring himself to the ground. The pressure was crushing—like the sky had decided to lean on him.

Charles walked forward slowly, as if admiring Kyle's stance.

"Impressive. You use mana well. Your control, your instinct… they're refined. You could have been something great. Why waste your potential by standing against us?"

He said.

Kyle's breath came short, but his gaze was steady.

"I don't follow gods. Especially not ones that need to steal power from the helpless to descend."

Charles tilted his head.

"You think mortals would give it freely?"

"They might…If they weren't asleep."

Kyle said.

Charles's eyes darkened. His next attack was a blur—a lance of divine energy streaking toward Kyle's chest.

Kyle dropped low and rolled, barely dodging it as the ground behind him exploded. His shoulder throbbed from the impact, but he kept moving.

Every part of his body screamed that he wasn't ready for this fight—not in this form.

But Kyle didn't need to win.

Not yet.

He just needed to buy enough time. Time for Silvy. Time to end the ritual before it finished.

His hand tightened into a fist, and he let out a slow, measured breath.

'I'll make this work. Somehow.'

High Inquisitor Charles's face twisted slightly, the faintest crack in his otherwise calm demeanor.

Kyle's words had clearly struck a nerve.

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His shoulders squared, and his eyes sharpened with cold resolve as divine energy swirled around him.

"You think I need external power to end your life? Fine. No borrowed power. No tricks. I will face you fairly, mortal to mortal. Let us see if your arrogance holds."

He said, voice calm but seething.

Kyle gave a slight nod.

"Glad we're on the same page."

Just as Charles raised his hand to summon another sigil, a burst of concentrated mana struck him hard in the side.

The sound cracked like a whip, and Charles staggered, pain flashing across his face.

The sheer force of the attack disrupted the flow of divine energy around him.

His head snapped to the direction of the shot, but the thick mana mist hanging in the air made visibility nearly impossible.

Kyle didn't waste the opportunity.

He surged forward, footsteps silent within the swirling mist.

His blade was already in motion before Charles could even react. The edge caught the High Inquisitor across the torso—deep, clean, and punishing.

Charles gasped, his body jerking back from the impact.

Another mana arrow tore through the air.

It hit him square in the shoulder, spinning him around and dropping him to one knee.

Kyle didn't hesitate. A final blow to the back of Charles's neck sent the man collapsing to the floor, unmoving.

Silence fell.

Kyle remained still for a moment, his breath sharp in his throat. The divine pressure in the air began to fade. The temple seemed to exhale. He had won.

But his brow furrowed, not in triumph—but in irritation.

He knew who had fired the arrows.

'Silvy.'

He turned his gaze skyward and raised his arm. A moment later, Queen swooped down gracefully, landing with practiced ease on his leather-covered forearm.

"Send her a message. She didn't need to waste that much mana."

Kyle said in a low tone.

Queen let out a soft cry and took off again, flying over to the distant rooftop where Silvy crouched.

With precise coordination, Queen landed beside her and immediately began pecking gently at her shoulder.

"Ow—alright! I got the message! I'll stop wasting my damn energy!"

Silvy hissed, swatting at the hawk.

Queen gave her one last, pointed peck before hopping back and taking to the skies again.

Silvy muttered under her breath, rubbing her shoulder.

"Stupid bird. Acting like I'm some reckless kid."

But her lips quirked into the smallest smile as she watched Queen fly back.

This was the first time Silvy had fired a shot because she wanted to and it made her feel librated.