Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 192: Ch : The Women of White- Part 1

The air over the battlefield shimmered beneath the high sun, and the rhythmic thunder of boots echoed as the soldiers of Grand Duchess Amanda marched forward.

They bore their banner high—golden lilies on a deep violet field—and chanted in unison.

"For the glory of the Duchess!"

But glory never came.

Without warning, the sky split open with a searing white light. A deafening silence engulfed the field before a wave of divine force swept through the advancing troops.

Screams were swallowed before they could form, armor melted like wax, and bodies disintegrated where they stood.

Within seconds, the vanguard was obliterated—no blood, no fire, just vanishing forms swallowed by that merciless radiance.

And then, quiet.

The light faded, revealing the impossible.

Where moments ago lay churned dirt and corpses, now spread green grass, vibrant and untouched.

The battlefield had become a meadow of unnatural beauty, fresh with the scent of spring. In its heart stood a lone woman, impossibly beautiful, untouched by war.

Her white hair floated around her like a halo. Her eyes, devoid of pupils, glowed with the eerie calm of something beyond mortality.

She radiated serenity and devastation in equal measure.

The few surviving guards of the Grand Duchess froze, terror rooting them in place. None could mistake what they were seeing—it was no mortal, no mere mage. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

"That… that's no woman. That's a demon."

One of the guards whispered, voice shaking.

"No. That's a goddess."

Said another hoarsely.

The ethereal being turned her gaze toward the horizon, where more enemy forces lay in wait. That single, unblinking stare sent chills down every spine.

One older soldier turned to a young man standing near him—a courier, barely old enough to hold a sword.

"You. Run. Get back to the Grand Duchess. Tell her what happened here. Go!"

He barked, grabbing the boy's arm.

The boy's face paled.

"But… what about you all?"

"We'll hold her off. She might look like a goddess, but she bleeds like the rest. Run, boy. Someone needs to live to tell the tale."

The man said grimly.

The young soldier hesitated, then nodded.

As he turned to flee, a glimmer of light surged toward him.

The beautiful woman had noticed his retreat—and she wasn't about to let him go. A blast of pale magic screamed across the field.

Before it could reach him, the other guards threw themselves into its path, shielding him with their bodies and mana.

The impact flung them backwards, burning their armor and limbs, but they stood—barely.

"Run!"

One of them roared.

Tears in his eyes, the young man bolted, the ground beneath him cracking from residual energy. He didn't look back.

He ran for what felt like hours. His uniform tore, his legs ached, and a gash across his side made each breath sharp.

At one point, he stumbled across a skirmish between enemy scouts. An arrow grazed his thigh, and he was forced to crawl through the underbrush.

He remembered—through pain and fear—that there was a village nearby. A small outpost, said to be under friendly control. It was his only chance.

Blood loss dulled his senses, and his steps grew slower. He barely registered that his vision was narrowing.

But just as his knees buckled and his body slumped forward, he saw a shadow approach—tall, composed, and cloaked in authority.

A hand reached out and caught him before he could hit the ground.

The boy lifted his hand weakly, his fingers fumbling with a small token: the insignia of the Grand Duchess. He pushed it toward the man before him, lips barely able to form words.

"G-Grand… D-Duchess…"

Kyle Armstrong looked down at the broken, bloodied youth in his arms. His sharp eyes scanned the insignia, the wounds, and the direction the boy had come from. His expression darkened.

The boy passed out in his arms, breath shallow but steady.

Kyle stood there for a moment, silent.

Then he looked up toward Queen, who circled high above, and spoke softly.

"Go. See what happened."

With a piercing cry, it soared into the skies. Kyle looked toward the direction of the obliterated battlefield, the winds carrying faint traces of burned ozone and foreign mana.

Something had arrived.

And it wasn't from this world.

The faint, pulsing glow of divine mana clung to the unconscious boy like a shroud.

Kyle stood over him, sharp eyes narrowed with unease.

He had felt mana of many kinds in his life—corrupted, refined, wild—but this… this was sacred. And yet, it reeked of danger.

A low whistle broke the silence as Bruce crouched down beside the boy, his fingers pressing against the youth's wrist.

"He's alive. But he's out cold. Whatever he ran into must've been a nightmare."

Bruce confirmed.

Kyle didn't respond immediately, gaze still fixed on the divine energy wrapping around the boy like invisible chains.

It wasn't his. That much was certain.

"He won't last long like this. His pulse is weak, skin's burning. If we leave him alone, he'll die before dawn."

Bruce added, glancing up.

Melissa stood a few steps away, rubbing her arms. Her usual fire was dimmed, eyes troubled.

"I don't like this, Master. His aura—it's wrong. Not evil, but it's making my skin crawl. I've never felt mana like this before. It's… too clean. Too cold."

She shivered.

Kyle finally turned to look at her.

"That's because it isn't his."

Melissa blinked.

"Then—?"

"It's divine mana. Something brushed him on the way here. Something powerful enough to mark him like this and still let him live."

Kyle said quietly, voice tense.

Bruce frowned, standing up.

"So you're saying something—someone—used him as a message?"

"Or a warning. Either way, we don't have time to guess."

Kyle said.

High above, Queen returned from its patrol, a silent shadow descending in a graceful arc. It landed on a nearby post, its wings folding in with a sharp rustle.

Kyle raised his hand and touched the faint pulse of mana linking him to it.

Queen's report was wordless but clear—no enemies nearby, no lingering presence of that divine force within the immediate vicinity.

"They're gone. Whatever did this isn't close."

Kyle muttered.

Bruce crossed his arms, clearly uncomfortable.

"Then what do we do with the kid? If we bring him back, he might die. If we leave him, he definitely will."

"Bring him back. He needs treatment. Whatever marked him might've also damaged him."

Kyle ordered.

Bruce grunted.

"You sure about this?"

"No. But if he came here instead of dropping dead in the woods, there's a reason. And I want to know what it is."

Kyle said.

Bruce bent down again, carefully scooping the boy up in his arms.

The divine mana surrounding the boy rippled with the motion, but didn't resist. Even so, Bruce's brow furrowed.

"I don't like it. It feels like I'm holding a time bomb."

He muttered.

"You're not the only one. Let's move before that thing decides to come looking for its messenger."

Kyle replied, already turning toward the village.

Melissa gave the boy one last wary glance, then followed close behind. Queen flapped its wings and took flight again, circling high above as a silent guardian.

The boy's breathing was shallow but steady. Whatever he had seen, whatever he had run from—it had left its mark.