Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent
Chapter 252 - 252: Ch 252: The Chosen Guest- Part 3

Kyle felt the air shift the moment Lysander nestled quietly against his shoulder. The tension among the elves no longer hissed with fury but hummed with veiled calculation.

The glares still lingered, but now there was a new gleam behind their eyes—one of cautious ambition.

He had anticipated this.

"Elder, I'll be heading to the sacred tree now. There's much I need to confirm."

Kyle said calmly, turning toward the chief.

The elder chief regarded him solemnly, then nodded.

"Do what you believe is right. As long as your actions aim to aid the elf race, you will find no opposition from me."

Kyle offered a faint smile.

"That was always the plan."

With Lysander quietly perched on his shoulder and his cloak billowing behind him, Kyle began making his way toward the heart of the village—the place where the sacred tree stood.

The crowd of elves followed from a distance, whispering, watching with a mixture of reverence, envy, and doubt.

When Kyle arrived, he found the barrier as he expected: a glowing dome of transparent mana pulsing in time with the life of the sacred tree within.

The tree itself was immense—its trunk thicker than any building, its branches coiled upward into the heavens, its leaves a pale, glowing green.

The barrier radiated holy energy.

Divine.

Corrupted.

He stepped forward, and the crowd collectively held its breath. Some gasped. Others smirked behind their hands, waiting for him to be rejected.

Many, Kyle could tell, wanted him to fail—to bounce off the barrier like an unworthy insect so that they could label him a fraud.

Some were already preparing plans for how to exploit him once his image cracked.

But Kyle, without hesitation, stepped through the barrier.

There was no resistance.

The divine energy coiled around him like silk—testing him, then embracing him. He and Lysander vanished from the view of the elves, swallowed by the glow.

A ripple of disbelief ran through the crowd.

"He… he entered?"

Someone whispered.

"That's impossible. Only the chosen—"

"How can an outsider—?"

The elder raised his staff and silenced them all with a single gesture. His voice rang clear.

"The sacred barrier has accepted him. The divine essence that protects and nurtures our kind has acknowledged his presence. You may protest, but this is the will of our tree. Of our ancestors."

The murmurs turned into silence. Some looked ashamed. Others still stared in disbelief, their fists clenched at their sides. No one wanted to accept it—but none could deny what they had seen.

Kyle had walked into the sacred barrier. Alone.

"He is not just an outsider. He is someone chosen by powers we cannot fully grasp. If you still doubt him… then you doubt the very tree that birthed our people."

The chief added.

A heavy silence fell after those words. No one had a response.

Kyle followed the swirling trail of dormant energy through the elf village with calm precision. It was faint, almost faded, but it still pulsed like an echo of the elves' former glory.

The further he walked, the more he could feel it—the undeniable pull of a powerful force buried beneath centuries of decay and divine interference.

And then, he arrived.

The sacred tree stood in the heart of a secluded grove, its massive trunk rising into the sky like a living monument.

Its bark shimmered with hues of silver and emerald, and its leaves glowed faintly with a soft, celestial light. At first glance, it looked majestic—healthy, even vibrant.

But Kyle wasn't deceived.

He could feel it. All around the tree, like an invisible noose, was a dense layer of corrupted divine mana.

It hummed ominously, suffocating the tree's natural aura and preventing its essence from reaching the rest of the village.

The elves weren't suffering because the tree was dying—they were suffering because their lifeline had been sealed off from them.

Kyle stepped closer and raised a hand, pressing it lightly against the invisible barrier. A sharp sting bit into his palm.

"As I thought. The curse isn't on the tree itself. It's the seal around it… separating it from the world."

He murmured.

The barrier was complex, a tightly woven mesh of divine mana laced with corruption so subtle that it could masquerade as holy power to anyone else.

If someone tried to tear it down with brute force, they'd risk shattering the balance and harming the tree in the process.

He had to be more delicate than that.

Kyle glanced toward his shoulder, where Lysander—the small dragon cub—rested. The little creature's golden eyes were half-lidded in boredom, its tail twitching lazily.

Kyle gave it a gentle pat.

"Time for a feast, little one."

Lysander blinked.

"See all this cursed mana choking the tree? I need you to eat it. Carefully. Don't hurt the tree itself."

Kyle pointed toward the barrier.

The dragon tilted its head, then squinted at the barrier as if seeing it for the first time. A moment passed.

And then, as realization struck, it opened its tiny maw and extended one claw to touch the corrupted magic.

The moment its claw made contact, the barrier hissed.

Lysander inhaled sharply, and began to consume the corruption in small, glowing bites.

The divine curse recoiled, writhing as if alive, but it couldn't resist the hungry aura of the dragon. Slowly, the thick layers of taint began to recede.

Kyle let out a slow breath.

"That should do it—"

A rustle behind him cut off his words.

From the shadows surrounding the grove, a group of twisted monsters burst forth.

Their limbs were elongated and malformed, their eyes empty voids, and their bodies radiated the same cursed mana that plagued the elves.

"Of course. There had to be guardians."

Kyle muttered.

The beasts charged at him without hesitation, their claws glinting under the sunlight, saliva dripping from jaws twisted too wide. They looked more like corrupted spirits than natural beings.

Kyle didn't panic. He didn't even flinch.

Instead, he turned slightly and called over his shoulder.

"Keep eating, Lysander. Don't stop, no matter what."

The dragon grunted in acknowledgment, too focused on its meal to spare Kyle a glance.

Then Kyle raised one hand and let his mana flare. A circle of light bloomed beneath his feet, sharp and intricate—layered with sealing runes and compressed barriers.

"I don't have time to waste on you. So let's make this quick.""

He said to the monsters.

The first beast lunged—and vanished in a blur of light and slicing wind.

Kyle's footwork shifted gracefully, and with a flick of his fingers, three more monsters were impaled mid-air by transparent blades conjured from nothing.

Another group tried to flank him, only to be caught in a mana trap Kyle had deployed without moving. They exploded into cursed mist.

One by one, the monsters fell under his relentless, calculated strikes. Kyle didn't use anything flashy or overbearing. Every movement was precise, every cast minimal. It was a clean-up, not a battle.

Within minutes, the grove was silent again.

Kyle straightened and looked toward Lysander, who was licking its lips, the last traces of the cursed mana curling away from its mouth.

The barrier was weakening. The tree's light was already growing stronger, its aura starting to pulse outward again.

Kyle smiled slightly.

"Good work."

Lysander gave a smug chirp and stretched its wings.

As the sacred tree's power began to surge anew, Kyle looked skyward. The first step had been taken. The elves' salvation had begun.

But this was far from over.

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