Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent
Chapter 232 - 232: Ch 232: Curse of the Goddess- Part 3

The priests gathered anxiously around the Grand Priest, their robes dusted with ash and the scent of fading divine magic lingering in the air.

Confusion clouded their faces, panic beginning to bubble beneath the surface.

"What now, Your Holiness? The Saintess… she's gone. Disappeared."

One of the younger acolytes asked, his voice trembling.

Another priest added.

"Without her guidance, we're lost. What if she never returns?"

Murmurs of fear spread like wildfire.

Some dropped to their knees, praying desperately. Others cast glances toward the distance, toward the village they had tried to conquer, the very place now thick with mana—mana not theirs.

A grizzled veteran stepped forward.

"Perhaps… we should surrender. Maybe they'll show mercy. We invaded their land. We won't be forgiven, but we might be spared."

The suggestion caused an uproar. Arguments broke out among the ranks—some priests nodding in agreement, others condemning the idea as heresy.

The Grand Priest raised his hand.

Silence fell.

"Have you so little faith in our Saintess? Do you truly believe the Goddess would forsake us? That She would allow Her chosen vessel to fall to a mortal?"

He asked, his voice calm and resonant.

The crowd quieted, ashamed but uncertain.

As if summoned by his words, a blinding surge of divine mana burst through the sky.

Golden light poured across the heavens, illuminating the land and basking the priests in warmth. A collective gasp rose from the group. Some fell to their knees in awe.

"Behold! The Goddess Seraphina has not abandoned us. Her power lives on! Our Saintess is alive, and her divine mission continues!"

The Grand Priest declared, spreading his arms wide.

Relief and fervent cheers spread through the group. Hope bloomed once more.

But deep inside, the Grand Priest felt only dread.

He recognized that mana surge for what it was—not a blessing, but a desperate strike.

And it had failed. The Saintess was gone, and her divine connection—while flaring brightly—had vanished just as suddenly. It was over. Their mission had failed.

He narrowed his eyes and steeled his resolve.

It was not a loss.

It was… a beginning.

"Brothers, sisters, go to the village. Show them your faith. The Goddess will protect you. I will remain in the shadows to guard you. Trust me."

He said with solemn gravity,

The priests, buoyed by his divine charisma and the miracle they had just witnessed, nodded in reverence.

They gathered what remained of their supplies and began the trek toward the village, banners of the faith held high.

As the last of them disappeared down the hill, the Grand Priest turned the other way.

He chuckled quietly.

"Fools. Sacrifices must be made for greater revelations. And I will be the one to carry them."

He muttered.

His robes swirled as he moved swiftly through the forest, abandoning his flock without hesitation.

His mind raced with plans—to regroup, to begin again, to find new vessels and new lands to continue his divine experiments.

"I survived this. And next time, I will be ready. I will find stronger bodies, more loyal minds—"

He whispered to himself.

A shadow flickered across his path.

He halted.

The forest was too quiet. The birds had gone silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

He turned slowly, mana gathering at his fingertips.

A figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in an aura of death. Its presence snuffed the light around it like a candle under water.

Its voice was low, distorted, like ten voices speaking in unison.

"You've run far enough."

The Grand Priest took a step back, eyes wide.

"Who—what are you?"

The figure tilted its head.

"The one sent to clean up your failure."

"My experiments—my work—it was all in Her name! She wanted this. The Goddess wanted this!"

The Grand Priest spat, raising a barrier of divine magic.

The figure didn't respond. Instead, it raised a single hand. Darkness surged forward like a tidal wave, crashing through the priest's defenses like paper.

He screamed as the shadows wrapped around him, crushing his mana, choking his breath.

"No—! Wait! I can still be useful! I can—"

"Your usefulness has expired. You will not be granted another chance."

The shadow said coldly.

There was a final flash of light.

And then silence.

Only the wind remained, whispering through the trees, carrying away the last echoes of the Grand Priest's ambition.

______

The sun dipped lower as the priests and soldiers stood at the village gates, waiting.

At first, they murmured reassurances to each other, clinging to faith. Surely the Grand Priest was simply preparing something from the shadows—watching over them, just as he promised.

But time passed.

The divine warmth that had surged through the air earlier was gone, fading into a chilly wind that left behind silence and doubt.

The once-bright expressions on their faces twisted into confusion and dread.

One of the younger priests shifted uneasily.

"Shouldn't he be here by now?"

A soldier nearby snorted.

"He's not coming."

Another priest turned sharply.

"How dare you! The Grand Priest would never—"

"He would. And he has. We were never important. Just bodies for his cause."

The soldier interrupted, eyes bitter.

That single sentence rang out like a bell.

Whispers spread. Some priests looked around, searching for any sign of their leader, but their hope dimmed with each passing moment.

And then, before the argument could break into full chaos, a voice rang out from the side.

"You're not wrong. He left you. I watched him run. Didn't even hesitate."

Sasha said, stepping from the treeline with a casual grace that sent a wave of tension through the group.

Gasps echoed among the abandoned forces.

She stood there alone, arms crossed, silver runes glowing faintly on her skin.

The presence around her was suffocating. She was clearly no ordinary villager. Even the priests, who had once channeled divine mana, could sense the danger she represented.

"But, if you surrender now, you will live. As prisoners, for now. It's more mercy than you deserve—but my lord believes in order over bloodshed."

Sasha continued, her gaze cool and sharp.

There was a long silence.

The priests faltered, gripping their staffs, uncertain. But it was the soldiers who moved first.

One by one, weapons clattered to the ground.

Helmets were removed.

Hands were raised.

They had fought for faith, for orders—but none of them were fools.

The Saintess was gone. The Grand Priest had betrayed them. The war was lost.

"We surrender. We only fought because we were ordered to. We've seen the truth now."

One of the captains said, stepping forward and bowing his head.

Sasha nodded once.

"You made the right choice."

The priests wavered, pride and fear clashing on their faces. But surrounded by surrender and facing the cold reality of their abandonment, even they eventually let their staves fall.

One of them whispered.

"What will happen to us?"

Sasha's lips curled into a thin smile.

"You'll answer to our young master. Pray that he's in a forgiving mood."

She said, glancing toward the village.

The priests swallowed hard, dread settling in their hearts.

Sasha turned on her heel and gestured for them to follow.

"Move. Any tricks, and you'll regret it."

The surrendered group trailed behind her in silence, their steps heavy with uncertainty. The war was over—and judgment was waiting just ahead.