Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent Chapter 348: Ch 348: In your Honor- Part 2

The divine realm, suspended beyond mortal perception, trembled under a wave of chaos.

The mont the news of Goddess Charrin’s fall reached the immortal skies, ripples of disbelief and panic surged through every corner of the ethereal plane.

Storms gathered in once-serene skies, great cities in the clouds flickered with unstable divine energy, and temples echoed with confused prayers.

Never before had a god been struck down so decisively.

The council chambers—a towering structure of luminous stone and drifting light—buzzed with rage and disbelief.

One by one, gods of every elent and domain appeared, voices raised, robes fluttering in the ambient mana wind, demanding answers.

The once dignified eting hall now crackled with volatile power as divine egos collided.

"What is the aning of this?!"

"Who could have possibly slain a goddess?"

"Are we just going to sit here while humans grow bold enough to defy divinity?"

The Supre Council Head, a withered but ancient god with eyes like twin voids, raised a hand to silence the chaos.

"Enough."

The chamber slowly settled.

"We are down to nine. Nine true gods remain. Charrin was not just slain—she was defeated. Her power devoured by the one you mockingly called a ’mortal.’"

The Head said grimly.

The God of Winds, his cloak ever shifting with tempestuous energy, frowned.

"Then let us seal the world where she fell. That place is tainted."

"And what happens when the one who felled Charrin simply tears through the seal like it were cloth? If soone could stand against her, our petty tricks will not protect us. We must be smarter than this."

Said the Supre God, his voice cold and echoing,

Tension thickened like a stormcloud. No one dared refute him.

The God of Harvest, rot and bloom twisting in a wreath around his crown, offered.

"Then we should destroy the world. Starve it. Let famine end their rebellion before it grows any stronger."

"The one we fear may not need food. Perhaps not even rest. They have already moved beyond humanity. They are sothing... in-between. A fracture."

The Supre God replied.

A heavy silence followed.

Then, from the corner of the chamber, a smooth voice slid through the quiet.

"Use Lucia."

Heads turned.

The suggestion ca from the God of Knowledge, who rarely spoke unless he had calculated the probabilities.

"Even if she walked away from us... even if she betrayed us once... we all know her nature. If we give her the right story, twist the facts, she will hunt our enemy without hesitation."

The God of War slamd his fist on the marble table.

"You want to trust a traitor?"

"We don’t need to trust her. We simply need to deceive her."

The Knowledge God replied.

Murmurs spread across the room. Many gods nodded slowly in agreent. The idea had rit—dangerous, yes, but desperate tis demanded dangerous asures.

"She still doesn’t know who Kyle Armstrong truly is. We can tell her he is the cause of divine corruption. The reason mortals suffer. That he betrayed her. She will act."

Knowledge continued.

"But if she learns the truth?"

Asked the God of Justice, frowning deeply.

"Then we’ll deal with her. The sa way we should’ve dealt with her the first ti."

Another god said.

Discomfort was thick in the air now. Not all gods were on board with the idea.

So exchanged glances, rembering the day Lucia walked away from the divine council, her wings dimming in protest.

Her devotion had always been to the people, not the throne. Using her now—lying to her—might lead to more betrayal... and more loss.

But the Supre God raised his hand again.

"Let it be so."

The decision was made.

"We will reach out to Lucia. But we will not tell her that the one she will fight is Kyle Armstrong. We will say only this: that a force exists, one who corrupted Charrin, who seeks to destroy all divine balance. Tell her that humanity suffers because of him. That it is a rcy to destroy him."

The Head declared.

"And when she finds out the truth?"

Asked the God of Light, voice soft with doubt.

The Supre God turned away.

"Then we will use her until the truth becos irrelevant."

______

In a secluded, silent corner of the divine realm—far from the golden halls of the council and the crashing storms of the other gods—a room sat cloaked in soft shadows.

Within, the only light ca from the faint glow of ethereal lanterns suspended midair, their pale fire casting long silhouettes across the walls.

Amid the gentle hum of mana, a woman stood poised like a sculptor before her art.

Her beauty was otherworldly—hair like starlight spun through silk, skin so pale it shimred, and eyes deep enough to drown in.

Her na was Lucia, once hailed as the Goddess of Grace, now a quiet exile.

Before her stood her "masterpieces."

Life-sized dolls lined the room, crafted with exquisite detail. Each figure had been molded with such perfection they seed ready to speak. But they never would.

Not one had a soul. They were only vessels—shells. The echoes of those she had once failed to save, shaped and rembered with trembling hands.

She reached out, caressing the porcelain cheek of one with uncanny fondness. Her voice, barely above a whisper, called out.

"Hand the azure thread."

One of the dolls—more lifelike than the rest—stepped forward without hesitation, obeying her command. Its movents were smooth, chanical, yet gentle.

It offered her the spool with an outstretched hand.

Lucia accepted it, but her fingers lingered a mont longer on the doll’s wrist. A flicker of sorrow danced across her face.

"Thank you. You always listen."

She murmured.

She turned back to her table, weaving mana into cloth, breathing life into stitches no mortal would ever understand. Her world was quiet, private—until the silence was broken.

A sharp knock echoed, followed by the creaking of her door being flung open. Harsh light spilled into the room.

"By the stars, it’s like a grave in here. Do you always hide in this darkness?"

A rough voice complained.

Lucia didn’t turn around.

"Light makes them look too real."

A figure stepped into the room, brushing dust off their white robe. An attendant of the council.

"You’ve been summoned by the Supre God himself."

The figure announced,

Lucia’s hands froze in their movent. Her head tilted, just slightly, as if considering whether to ignore the ssage.

The attendant clicked their tongue.

"You’re not being asked, Lucia. The council demands your presence."

Lucia finally turned her gaze toward the door. Her eyes were as calm as ever, but a quiet storm began to stir behind them.

"...Very well."

She gently set down her tools, brushing invisible dust from her gown. With one last glance at her dolls—her silent companions—Lucia whispered.

"Watch over them while I’m gone."

The lifelike doll bowed slightly in response.

As she stepped past the threshold, leaving the comforting gloom of her sanctuary, the air around her shifted.

The hallway outside was bright and clinical, filled with divine light, but Lucia didn’t flinch. Her calm expression didn’t falter.

They were calling her back. But they wouldn’t like what she had beco - soone who could not even do what they wanted.