Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 390: Ch : The Root - Part 6

The wind howled across the ruined valley, kicking up dust and ash where life once thrived. The sky above was stained with shades of orange and gray—permanent bruises inflicted by corrupt mana lingering in the atmosphere.

Amid this desolate terrain, four scouts hid within the jagged rocks, peering down at the shifting mass of formless monsters that patrolled the last shard’s location.

What had once been a scattered, chaotic horde now moved in coordinated patrols, their movements sharp and predatory.

"They know!"

Whispered one of the scouts, jaw tight with dread.

"They know we’re getting closer."

Another nodded grimly.

"And they’re guarding the crystals like it’s sacred ground now."

They all turned to the eldest scout, who said quietly.

"We need to report this back to the young master. If he knows the enemy is growing more organized, he’ll change strategy."

"But we won’t all make it back. They’ll chase us."

Muttered the youngest, a boy no older than seventeen, with short black hair and a thin scar over his cheek. His hands trembled slightly.

The leader’s expression hardened.

"Then only one of us needs to. The rest will hold them back."

There was silence for a moment before the boy’s eyes widened.

"You mean... me?" 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

"You’re the fastest...And this is bigger than any of us. We trust you."

Said the scout softly.

The boy swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

"I won’t fail."

With a final look at the others, he sprinted into the fading light, tearing across the dead terrain.

But the monsters noticed. Screeches rose behind him—formless, writhing shadows that surged forward in pursuit. The scout didn’t look back.

He knew what his comrades were buying him: time.

The wind roared in his ears, and his lungs burned. Sharp rocks tore at his boots, and the landscape twisted underfoot. The scout pushed himself harder.

Then a shadow landed before him.

A monstrous creature—twisted and lean, its limbs stretching unnaturally long, its eyes glowing with hatred—leapt toward him.

The scout yanked out his dagger and ducked, slashing at the creature’s leg. It howled, but more surged toward him.

He turned and fled again, zigzagging through scorched ruins and broken trees. But exhaustion was catching up. His vision blurred, and his legs staggered.

They caught him.

A heavy claw slammed him into the dirt, forcing the breath out of his chest. He rolled, dazed, barely raising his arm as another monster lunged.

Then something pierced the air with a shriek.

A great shadow flashed past him—a blur of silver feathers and cutting wind. A hawk.

The hawk dove with surgical precision, its talons glowing faintly with mana. It slammed into the attacking monster’s face, tearing through its head with a burst of kinetic energy.

The creature howled and dissolved into smoke, but more surrounded them.

The hawk flared its wings and perched defensively in front of the scout, eyes burning with mana-infused clarity. The monsters lunged again.

The hawk’s wings shimmered with mana as it beat them once—blasting a pulse of energy outward that sent the first wave staggering.

With a sudden flap, it launched itself into the air, circled, and dove.

Claws slashed. Beaks pecked. Feathers carved like blades.

One monster tried to intercept midair, leaping unnaturally high. But the hawk twisted mid-flight, spinning and slashing its wings across the creature’s chest.

The momentum cleaved straight through. It crumpled into corrupted mist.

Another creature barreled in, jaws wide. The hawk spun, gathering wind, and let out a piercing screech as it fired compressed air like a cannon from its wings.

The blast exploded into the creature’s chest, throwing it back a dozen feet.

The scout, watching in awe and disbelief, forced himself to move.

"I can’t stay here... I have to run."

With the hawk defending him, he slipped away—running toward the ridgeline, where he could see the faint outlines of friendly territory.

But behind him, more creatures arrived. Too many.

The hawk flapped high once again and screeched, its call echoing like a command across the skies.

Suddenly, other shapes appeared in the clouds—smaller hawks and birds, all converging in a deadly flock.

They dived into the monsters, a coordinated storm of wings and talons, using the same mana-infused techniques to slash, blind, and distract.

The young scout didn’t know if it was a miracle or a coincidence. But he wouldn’t waste it.

He stumbled over a ridge, lungs searing and legs cramping, until he collapsed just outside the village ward boundary.

Soldiers came running at the sight of him, barely catching the trembling message he gasped before fainting in their arms:

"They’re moving. The last four shards are heavily protected. They know. We have to act now—before it’s too late."

The boy’s breath came in short, ragged gasps as he leaned against a tree, blood trickling from a shallow wound on his side.

Just when he thought the danger had passed, the silver hawk circled overhead and gave a sharp cry before dipping low. It flapped once, then hovered in place, clearly waiting for him.

"You want me to follow you?"

He asked, wiping the sweat off his brow.

The hawk screeched again, then turned mid-air and flew low, deliberately slow enough for him to keep pace.

Gripping his torn cloak and willing his legs to move, the scout stumbled forward.

Every few minutes he expected another ambush, another monster to leap from the shadows—but none came.

Wherever the hawk flew, the beasts seemed to scatter or stay hidden. It was guiding him through the forest like a divine protector.

Somehow, against all odds, the scout emerged from the dense cursed woods. The air cleared, the oppressive mana lessened, and the landscape opened into a wide valley.

And standing at the center of it was a man in dark armor, a crimson cloak fluttering behind him.

Kyle Armstrong.

The young master stood tall, his piercing gaze scanning the horizon. The hawk let out a sharp cry and descended in a smooth arc, landing gracefully on his shoulder.

The scout froze. A noble. A real noble—on the battlefield?

Kyle’s eyes narrowed as he spotted the boy.

"You’re one of the forward scouts. What did you find?"

He said, voice firm.

The scout, still panting, snapped into attention.

"Young master! Apologies—I didn’t expect to see you here..."

Kyle stepped forward.

"Forget that. What did you see?"

The boy swallowed hard and steadied his voice.

"The monsters... they’re gathering. Around the last four shards. They’ve tightened security. Patrols are thicker, more organized. Almost military."

Kyle’s jaw clenched, but he nodded.

"Understood."

The hawk clicked its beak and made another short gesture with its wing. Kyle gently brushed its feathers and turned back to the scout, his voice low but resolute.

"You did well. Now rest. I’ll handle the rest."

The scout’s knees buckled as the tension finally left his body, but Kyle caught him before he fell. With a simple gesture, he called over one of the nearby soldiers.

"Take him to the healers. He’s earned it."

The scout looked up, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Young master... you’re really going to fight them yourself?"

Kyle gave a faint, cold smile.

"Of course. If they’ve grown bold enough to tighten defenses, it means they’re afraid. And when gods feel fear, it means we’re close to tearing them down."

The hawk let out a piercing cry again, as if echoing Kyle’s resolve.