Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent

Kyle didn't waste a second. As soon as the puppet collapsed, he rushed past it and dropped to his knees beside Silvy's bed.

"Silvy?"

He called softly, but there was no response.

His voice sharpened.

"Silvy!"

Still nothing. Her chest didn't rise, her body didn't stir—there was no breath, no twitch, not even the faintest sign of life.

Kyle pressed two fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse. His mana flared as he dove into her core, seeking the gentle warmth of her essence, her soul, her mana. But—

There was nothing.

Her vessel was empty.

Completely.

"No."

Kyle breathed. He pushed more mana in, trying to ignite something—anything. He focused on every fragment of her he remembered, every spark of power she'd ever shown. But there was only silence.

There was no external force lingering, no curse, no magical toxin. No trace of harm left behind.

Which meant…

His eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the puppet's shattered form. He reached out again, more carefully this time, scanning Silvy's body inch by inch. His jaw clenched.

"She didn't die. Her soul and mana… they were taken. Pulled out."

He whispered.

Likely at the very last second, before he arrived. The puppet had been stalling—reaching for her, not to kill, but to steal. To extract.

And now—

"Her body's still intact. But not for long."

He muttered.

Without her soul anchoring it, the physical form would begin to fail. Maybe a few days at best… a week if he fed her enough mana.

But once the threads that tied her spirit to the body faded entirely, there would be no bringing her back.

Footsteps echoed behind him. The elf healer returned, hurrying through the tent's flap with a panicked expression.

"Young Master! I heard the fighting had stopped—"

He froze when he saw Kyle hovering over Silvy. Then, he rushed forward, pushing his sleeves up and placing his hand over Silvy's heart.

At first, he smiled.

"Her body's unharmed. Good, very good—she must've been protected from—"

"She's not breathing."

Kyle said quietly.

The healer paused. His fingers moved again. Then again. His smile faded.

"…She isn't…That can't be…"

He admitted, voice unsteady.

"She's gone."

The words came out heavier than Kyle expected.

The elf sat down heavily.

"But… there's no sign of soul damage. No trauma. Just… absence. She's not here."

Kyle nodded once, eyes fixed on Silvy's still face.

The elf looked up.

"Do you know what happened?"

Kyle didn't answer right away. He glanced at the shattered puppet.

"I think… it took her."

"Took?"

The healer echoed.

"Her soul. Her mana. Stolen and sent somewhere else. Probably to its master."

Kyle's voice was cold and steady.

"Silvy's body still has time—but if her soul doesn't return before the bond fades completely, she'll be lost. Forever."

The elf's face turned pale. He looked at the woman lying still on the bed, and his shoulders sagged.

"Then… perhaps it is better if we prepare for that. Even if she returns… there's no guarantee she'll be the same. A soul pulled and twisted like that—it won't come back whole. She may wake up as someone else."

Kyle stood slowly.

"Death deserves rest. Sometimes… letting go is the merciful choice."

The healer added gently.

Slap.

The sound echoed through the tent. Kyle's hand trembled slightly from the impact.

"Don't. A death like this is not rest. It's just becoming another puppet for the divine."

He said sharply.

The healer touched his cheek but didn't protest.

"I don't care how impossible it sounds. I don't care how broken she comes back. She's coming back. Silvy is coming back. And until then, you—"

He jabbed a finger at the elf's chest.

"—will keep her body alive. I don't care what it takes. You keep her stable. You do not let her fade."

The healer bowed his head.

"Yes, my lord."

Kyle turned back to Silvy, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"I'm going to get you back, Silvy."

He whispered.

______

Melissa returned to Kyle's side, her boots still caked in dirt from rushing between tents and barking orders to soldiers and staff alike.

Behind her, the last of the army had gathered — tired, shaken, but safe.

She gave them a quick glance, counting heads, double-checking injuries, ensuring that no one was left behind. Satisfied, she turned toward her young master with a focused expression.

"We've cleared the area, young master. Everyone's accounted for. What do we do next?"

She reported.

Kyle's eyes, cold and unreadable, shifted toward the distant horizon.

He stood beside Silvy's tent, the memory of what had just happened still clinging to the air like smoke after a fire. His jaw tightened slightly before he spoke.

"We go after her. If the gods won't come down to us… then we'll go up to them."

He said.

Melissa blinked.

"You mean—"

"Yes. We're going to the gods' domain."

There was no hesitation in his voice. Only resolve.

Melissa frowned.

"But… how do we even get there? That's divine territory."

"We'll find a way. We'll break open the skies if we have to. But we're not leaving Silvy behind."

Kyle replied, as though it were the simplest truth in the world.

Melissa didn't question him further. She simply nodded. That was all she needed to hear.

Far away, in the cold chambers of the divine realm, Goddess Lucia sat on her throne, cradling a small orb in her hand.

Within it, soft glimmers of ethereal light danced and shifted — the essence of a soul, one that pulsed with life and memories. An elf soul.

"A remarkable catch. And powerful, too."

She mused softly to herself, tilting her head as she studied the orb.

She was surprised.

Elf souls did not typically return to the cycle. They were reborn through the elf tree, deeply bound to the natural mana of the world.

But this one… this one had been harvested personally by her puppet. It had bypassed the usual channels — not taken by death, but stolen directly before it could return to the tree.

"A personal harvest. How curious."

Lucia whispered, almost amused.

She tapped the orb with her nail, watching the ripples of energy spiral through the transparent sphere. The soul was dormant — asleep, unaware. But intact. Whole.

And valuable.

She reclined slightly in her seat, pondering what to do. She had no real interest in elves.

But she did have an interest in Kyle Armstrong — the man who had felled Charrin and caused a ripple of fear to echo through the divine halls.

A soul like this… he would come for it.

A slow smile touched her lips.

"I could trade it. Yes… he'd want it back. I could use it to bargain. Make him surrender his crusade. End this game before it grows too bloody."

She whispered.

Yes. It was a good plan.

She raised her hand and sent out a thread of divine command.

"Return. You've done well. Come back now."

She whispered to her puppet.

But there was no response.

Her smile faded slightly. She tried again. A stronger command.

No matter what she did, the goddess could no longer feel her power around her. She had no idea what was happening.