Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 340: Ch : Resisting With all your Might- Part 1

Silvy dashed through the darkened forest, her breath coming in shallow bursts as she neared the edge of the city.

She could see the faint glow of their campfires ahead—a flickering hope in the night.

’Just a little more... I need to warn them.’

But her instincts screamed a second too late.

The air shimmered. A circle of divine glyphs burst open before her, and out of the light stepped Goddess Charrin herself, radiant and cruel, accompanied by several robed priests.

Silvy skidded to a halt, drawing her mana-infused bow in a fluid motion.

"So, you’ve come to stop me."

Goddess Charrin’s eyes narrowed slightly, not with anger, but with amusement.

"You run with such desperation. Did you truly think I would let you reach your allies so easily?"

Silvy aimed, but her hands trembled. She knew she wasn’t strong enough to fight a goddess. Not yet.

The High Priest stepped forward, bowing his head slightly to his goddess.

"My lady, you need not waste your divine hands on this creature. Allow me to take care of her. It would be a shame to stain your presence with her blood."

Charrin considered the request for only a moment before nodding.

"Very well. I have matters of greater importance awaiting me."

Her gaze settled briefly on Silvy, a flicker of disdain behind her composed smile.

"That one’s soul... Armstrong’s soul... refuses to rest. It howls within the seal. I must go tame it."

She vanished in a burst of light, and for a heartbeat, Silvy’s knees nearly gave way.

’Kyle is still alive...He’s fighting. Even now. I need to do the same.’

The thought rang like a bell in her chest.

The Grand Priest watched her with thinly veiled hunger.

"An elf. What a prize."

He chuckled as he raised his staff.

"You will fetch quite the reward. If we can learn how to extract your mana... perhaps immortality is finally within our grasp. The gods will be pleased."

Disgust twisted Silvy’s face.

"You talk about immortality while standing on the corpses of your own people?"

"Sacrifices must be made for greatness. Come quietly. You’ll live longer."

The priest said casually, his staff glowing with divine symbols.

Silvy narrowed her eyes.

"I’ll die free before I ever become a lab rat."

The priest’s smile faded.

"So be it."

He launched a blast of divine energy toward her, radiant and heavy.

Silvy leapt to the side, her bow shimmering into her hands as she drew a mana arrow midair and fired it toward the priest.

He blocked it easily with his staff, but the ground where it struck cracked with force.

"You’re good. But not enough."

The priest muttered.

Silvy didn’t answer. She launched three more arrows in rapid succession, one to distract, one to blind, and the last aimed right at his chest.

The priest dodged, but the blinding shot caught his eyes, and Silvy charged forward, transforming her bow into a curved mana blade.

The two clashed, divine mana meeting elven mana in bursts of raw force. The priest struck with brutal precision, aiming to cripple rather than kill, but Silvy was agile and unpredictable.

Her blade danced, landing glancing blows that made the priest growl in frustration.

"You little pest—"

He raised his staff and struck the ground. Roots burst from the earth, glowing with divine magic, wrapping around Silvy’s legs. She slashed at them, but more came, winding upward.

"Your power is limited. Mine is gifted by the gods."

He hissed.

"I don’t need divine power. I have my own."

Silvy spat, mana flaring around her.

With a cry, she unleashed a blast of mana in all directions, shattering the roots and pushing the priest back a few steps.

She dashed through the trees, not to escape, but to reposition. The priest tried to follow, but Silvy was faster, striking from the shadows with arrows that burned through his robes.

"You’ll regret this!"

He shouted.

But Silvy had already vanished into the trees again. Her breath was ragged, and her body bruised, but her spirit had never burned brighter.

’Kyle is still fighting. And so will I. Until the end.’

The High Priest watched the forest line where Silvy had vanished, his face dark with fury. One of his robed subordinates stepped forward hesitantly.

"Shall we pursue her, Lord Priest?"

He didn’t turn around.

"Yes. Do whatever it takes. Bring her back alive if you can—dead, if you must. An elf’s mana cannot be allowed to run free. Especially not after what she’s seen."

"But what of you, my lord?"

The priest finally turned, his eyes flashing with something close to obsession.

"The Goddess may call upon me at any moment. I must be there when she does. Her will must never be kept waiting."

With that, he strode back toward the temple, his divine staff clutched tightly in his hand. Behind him, the remaining priests gave chase, fanning out through the woods in pursuit of Silvy.

But Silvy, bleeding and breathless, had already broken their perimeter.

The woods had bent to her desperation, her footsteps a blur of determination. She left no trace.

Every priest that dared to follow her met a swift and silent end, arrows striking through the dark, her blade cutting through holy garments without hesitation.

Her body ached, and her lungs burned, but she pressed on. She had to.

By the time the fires of the rebel camp came into view, she was barely upright.

She stumbled past the perimeter guards who immediately recognized her and called for Melissa.

Melissa appeared almost immediately, striding toward her, concern flashing across her face.

"Silvy—what happened? Where’s Kyle?"

The name made Silvy pause. Her shoulders tensed, and she looked away.

Melissa’s voice sharpened.

"Where’s Kyle?"

Silvy clenched her fists.

"Gather everyone. I’ll explain when we’re all together."

Melissa didn’t argue. The look in Silvy’s eyes unsettled her more than any battlefield could.

Within ten minutes, the command tent was filled. Bruce, Varron, Amana, and every key figure of Kyle’s command structure sat or stood, waiting in heavy silence.

Silvy stood before them, still stained with blood and grime, her hair disheveled, her voice barely steady.

She took a deep breath.

"Kyle... has been captured."

Gasps rippled through the room. Amana’s eyes widened, and Bruce took an involuntary step forward.

"What? What do you mean captured?"

Melissa’s voice cracked.

Silvy nodded slowly.

"The Goddess Charrin is back. She has descended fully. Kyle tried to stop her... but she sealed him away."

Bruce slammed his hand on the table.

"You’re saying the strongest of us—our commander—was taken?!"

"He didn’t go down easily. He fought until the last moment. Even when sealed, his soul kept resisting her. That’s how I know he’s still alive."

Silvy snapped, her voice hardening.

Amana’s fists were trembling at her sides.

"How did this happen...?"

"They used a ritual. One that drained the life force of hundreds, if not thousands. Kyle tried to stop it, but the crowd turned against him. Charrin appeared with her divine form and overwhelmed him with a memory seal. She said it would bury him inside himself forever."

Silvy explained.

Bruce gritted his teeth.

"So what now? What are we supposed to do without him?"

Silvy looked around the room.

"We survive. We push forward. Kyle didn’t build this rebellion to be dependent on one man. He trained us. He trusted us. That means we fight until we can free him."

Melissa’s voice was still shaking.

"But... what if we can’t?"

Silvy stepped closer, her tone sharper than before.

"Then we burn the divine to the ground trying." freēwēbnovel.com

A heavy silence followed.

Then, slowly, Amana stepped forward.

"What do you need from us, Silvy?"

Silvy didn’t hesitate.

"Time. I’ll lead a scouting mission back to the sanctuary. But we need to fortify, prepare for a siege, and spread the word—Kyle isn’t dead, and this war isn’t over."

Bruce looked at her, nodding.

"Then we hold. Until he returns."

Melissa wiped her eyes.

"No matter how long it takes."

And so, in that command tent, a vow was made. The rebellion would not fall. Not while Kyle Armstrong still lived.

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