Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 346: Ch : Deft Fate- Part 3

The heavens tore asunder as Kyle and Goddess Charrin clashed again, each strike ringing like a war drum in the sky.

Light and shadow danced violently—her divine radiance a halo of wrath, his abyssal mana a jagged storm.

The world beneath them was no longer a battlefield, but a graveyard of gods and men alike.

"Why resist?"

Charrin snarled, wings spreading wide, a golden storm swirling around her.

"I am salvation! I am purpose!"

Kyle’s response was a whisper—quiet, certain.

"You’re a cage."

With a cry that shook the clouds, she summoned pillars of divine fire from the sky, each one descending like judgment.

Kyle darted through the inferno, his steps carving craters with each burst of mana. His sword flickered like lightning, severing flame and air alike.

Charrin lunged, spear poised, her form a blur of celestial beauty and death. Kyle met her mid-strike, their weapons colliding with an impact that turned night into day.

Charrin’s spear split into seven fragments, each one flying outward and returning to her like birds of prey.

Kyle’s blade fractured, the metal melting under divine pressure—but he didn’t falter. Instead, he wrapped raw mana around the hilt and reforged it mid-swing.

His new blade shimmered with unstable energy, pulsing like a heart refusing to stop.

She sneered.

"Even if you win—look around you. This world is dying."

Kyle’s voice was calm as he blocked another barrage.

"Then I’ll rebuild it without you."

With a scream, Charrin poured her full power into the air—her wings expanding as beams of light stretched to the horizon.

The sky went gold, as if the sun had cracked open. The earth below buckled under the weight of her might.

She was no longer holding back.

"I gave you a chance. Now, vanish."

She said, divine circles spinning behind her like a doomsday clock.

She hurled the divine sigils at him—each one a death sentence, their impact warping reality itself. Trees turned to salt. Rivers boiled.

The nearby city walls collapsed just from the energy brushing past them.

Kyle raised his hand, mana forming a lattice around him.

"Break."

The sigils shattered midair. The recoil snapped the terrain in half, a shockwave leveling mountains in the distance.

Kyle reappeared beside her instantly, mana clawing at her neck.

She twisted just in time, her spear countering the fatal blow—but not without cost. Blood dripped down her arm, radiant and burning.

Her eyes narrowed.

"You’re no mortal."

Kyle’s gaze was iron.

"I never needed to be."

They collided again—one last time—every ounce of their power unleashed. The sky turned black from the sheer concentration of magic.

Lightning danced through the heavens, neither white nor blue but a chaotic mix of every element. Time itself stuttered under the weight of their blows.

The battlefield cratered, swallowing the ruins of the temple. The sacred land burned, the trees ash, the lakes empty.

From miles away, even the soldiers watching could only gape as the battle tore apart the sky.

Finally, Kyle dropped low and whispered something under his breath.

A pulse.

His mana spread like a living storm, weaving itself around Charrin’s divine essence, pulling at her core. Her eyes widened—not in pain, but disbelief.

"You’re unmaking me."

She gasped, floating backward, hands outstretched as her body began to glow—fracture lines forming along her limbs.

Kyle stepped forward, slow, commanding.

"You don’t belong here. Not anymore."

He said.

She screamed, unleashing a final wave of light, enough to turn a city into dust. Kyle’s cloak burned away. His sword shattered once more. His skin cracked.

But he walked through the light.

Mana poured from every wound on his body—refusing to die, refusing to bend.

"I won’t let you take anyone else. You’re done."

He said.

And with one final surge of power, Kyle appeared above her.

His hand plunged forward—not with a weapon, but raw force. His mana crashed into her chest, cutting through the divine like thunder through glass.

Her body began to fall apart—light bleeding from her eyes, her form collapsing, divine energy spilling into the ruined land like evaporating mist.

"No! I was trying to save them—!"

She cried, reaching for him, not with anger now—but fear.

Kyle looked her in the eyes.

"You forgot what saving means."

Her body shattered into dust.

The wind carried her light away.

Silence fell.

All across the land, the glow in the sky dimmed. The divine symbols faded. The pressure that had suffocated the world vanished. It was over.

Kyle stood alone in the ruins—clothes torn, bleeding, breathing hard. His sword was gone. His aura flickered, but he remained standing.

Below, from the edge of the mountains and shattered forests, Grand Duchess Amana, Silvy, Bruce, Melissa, and the surviving soldiers looked up—just in time to see the goddess’s essence disperse into the heavens, like fireflies leaving the battlefield.

He had won.

They all stared in awe, not cheering yet—afraid to break the stillness of the moment.

Finally, Kyle turned to face them, standing atop what was left of the battlefield.

His voice, when it came, was hoarse but firm.

"It’s done."

And that was all they needed.

The cheers erupted. The ground shook not from magic, but the voices of those who had survived. Some cried. Some dropped to their knees. Others looked to the sky and wept in relief.

Kyle descended slowly from the ruined peak, his mana creating steps of light.

Silvy ran toward him first, eyes wide, relief pouring from her.

"You did it."

He gave a faint smile.

"We did."

Behind her, the Grand Duchess approached, her armor scorched, her mantle torn—but her eyes sharp.

"You took down a god. Alone."

She said.

Kyle looked at the devastation, the shattered earth, the sky still trying to knit itself back together.

"No victory comes without cost."

He murmured.

"But it was a victory."

Bruce added, voice resolute.

Kyle gave a single nod, exhaustion finally washing over him.

The dust still hung in the air when Kyle turned his gaze toward the huddled priests gathered near the edge of the ruined sanctuary.

Their robes were singed, their faces pale, and their eyes filled with disbelief. Their goddess—invincible, eternal—was gone.

Kyle’s expression was unreadable as he took a step toward them.

"Duchess, round them up."

He said, voice low but clear.

Amana gave a subtle nod and raised her hand, signaling the nearby soldiers. The priests didn’t resist. Some fell to their knees, others merely stood frozen, their divine chants lost from their lips.

"They still have a purpose. Let them witness the aftermath of what blind faith led to."

Kyle said, his gaze not leaving the trembling men.

One of the younger priests whimpered, clutching his necklace.

"What will become of us?"

Kyle didn’t answer right away. He stared at the ruined sky.

"That depends on what you choose to believe in next."

He turned to Amana.

"They won’t act up again. Not after seeing their ’god’ bleed like any mortal."

Silvy stepped beside him, whispering.

"And if they do?"

Kyle’s eyes flickered with cold fire.

"Then I’ll remind them what fear really feels like."