SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Chapter 277: Chapter 277: The Birth of a Bond

The creature advanced with a dragging scrape of voidsteel, its purple blade pulsing like a dying star.

Aubrelle, blind and trembling, reached out into the darkness.

”P-Please... someone—help me...”

The creature didn’t hesitate.

It lunged.

A single, swift arc of voidsteel cut through the air—

SHHK—!

Pain exploded across her face as the blade slashed over both eyes, carving a burning line of agony and plunging her into absolute darkness.

Aubrelle screamed—

but the sound was drowned by something far louder.

WHUMPH—!

Light erupted behind her—blue, violent, alive. The garden ignited with ethereal radiance as petals rose from the ground and dissolved into glowing dust.

Above her, a sphere of azure brilliance cracked open—

a spiritual egg splitting apart midair.

KYRAAAAAAH!

A crystalline cry shattered the night.

Blue flames spiraled downward, coalescing into wings—

too large, too fierce to belong to any ordinary familiar.

A young celestial bird emerged—avian, radiant, its feathers burning with blue fire. Not yet the tiny companion he would one day become—

but his true form, a newborn star wrapped in feathers.

Pipin.

Born in the heartbeat between her pain and the creature’s next strike.

He dove downward, blue fire wrapping him like armor. The Void Stalker swung its crimson blade—

FWOOOOOOOM—

Azure flame engulfed the monster’s torso. Void flesh sizzled, cracked, and tore as the Stalker screeched—

a sound like metal being ripped apart by a god.

It staggered back, half its chest melted, two arms hanging uselessly.

Pipin landed before Aubrelle, wings unfurling in a brilliant shield of blue light.

Aubrelle reached out with shaking fingers, brushing warm feathers made of pure mana—

a fleeting comfort before her strength finally broke.

Her world dimmed. Her breathing slowed. The terror and pain swallowed her whole.

Pipin folded his luminous wings around her, lowering his body to cradle her unconscious form as blue embers drifted gently over her hair—

protecting her even as darkness claimed her.

He chirped once—soft, protective, mournful—his glowing red eyes fixed on the advancing Void creature.

The Void Stalker staggered again, trying to rise despite the massive wound burning through its torso. Its remaining voidsteel blades scraped against the stone, sparks hissing with each shaky step.

Pipin hissed, feathers flaring, red eyes blazing like coals.

And then—

The air changed.

Life itself flooded the garden.

From the shattered hallway behind them—where a Gate Room connected to distant allied territories—came a whirl of green light. That gate had been opened the moment reinforcements received the distress call.

Footsteps echoed.

And through the doorway stepped a single figure:

Elenara au Sylvanel.

Matriarch of the Sylvanel. One of the Eight Pillars of the world. A sovereign in nature magic.

She walked with the fury of a storm contained within a calm, regal frame.

Her deep green eyes swept the destruction:

the bodies,

the ruined garden,

Evelyne’s fallen form,

and the little girl curled beneath a phoenix-like familiar with burning red eyes.

Her expression hardened into a blade.

”Void filth,” she whispered. ”You dare stain Rosenthal soil?”

The garden obeyed her wrath.

VWOOM—

Vines thicker than tree trunks burst from the ground, snapping upward with impossible speed.

SHLNK—SHLNK—SHLNK—

They impaled every lesser Void creature still crawling, climbing, or slithering across the estate.

Creatures behind hedges.

Creatures clinging to walls.

Creatures leaking from dying rifts.

All silenced in a heartbeat.

Only the wounded Stalker remained, hissing defiantly.

Elenara flicked her wrist.

A massive vine burst from the soil beneath the Void Stalker—

thick, thorned, and alive with nature’s wrath.

SHRRRAK—!

It impaled the creature from below, driving through its abdomen and spine before erupting out its back in a violent spray of void ichor.

The Stalker was lifted several meters into the air, dangling like a broken puppet.

Then—

THRUM—THRUM—THRUM—

Dozens of smaller thorn-spikes shot outward from the main vine, ripping through the creature’s limbs, chest, and neck from the inside.

Its voidsteel blades fell from its hands with a dull clang as its body twitched, suspended midair—

the silhouette of a monster pinned like an insect on a spear of living earth.

Its form convulsed once... twice...

Then the vine tightened—

CRACK.

The Stalker’s body collapsed into drifting ash.

Silence.

Elenara moved toward Aubrelle.

Pipin tensed, wings still spread protectively, red eyes glowing like burning coals—but she knelt beside them, lowering her hand slowly, respectfully.

”Easy,” she murmured. ”You did well, little one.”

Pipin hesitated... then lowered his wings just enough for her to reach Aubrelle.

Elenara touched the girl’s chest gently, letting soft waves of nature mana stabilize her failing breath.

The vines around them grew upward into a protective dome, blocking any remaining danger.

She brushed a blood-stained strand of hair from Aubrelle’s cheek.

”I arrived too late... but I am here now.”

The protective dome of vines pulsed faintly, the last flickers of battle dying around it.

A few seconds later—

THUD—THUD—THUD—

Bootsteps. Many.

The doors of the inner garden burst open as Thaleon au Rosenthal sprinted inside, followed by Marie, Renia with the twins, Eldric, and Idran. Their breath caught instantly.

”A—Aubrelle...?” Marie whispered, voice trembling.

Thaleon’s eyes widened in horror.

His daughter lay unconscious amid broken stone and moonlit petals—

blood dried around her eyes, a new, violent scar carved across both lids.

Her breathing was shallow, but present—held steady by the green glow of Elenara’s spell.

Eldric staggered forward. Renia gasped and clutched the toddlers tighter. Idran froze, fists shaking.

And their mother—

Evelyne’s body lay only meters away, still and lifeless.

Marie covered her mouth with both hands. Renia looked away in shock.

Thaleon stepped toward Evelyne once, knees buckling... but he forced himself to stand.

His gaze returned to his living daughter.

”Elenara...” his voice cracked. ”My wife... my child... what happened?”

Elenara rose slowly, nature mana still flowing from her palm into Aubrelle to ease the fading adrenaline and stabilize her pulse.

She bowed her head.

”...Forgive me, Thaleon. If I had arrived sooner, we might have prevented this tragedy.”

Thaleon shut his eyes, jaw tight. Not anger—grief.

Pipin, still glowing faintly, let out a low, protective chirp.

As Thaleon’s gaze fell onto him, the small celestial bird flickered—then dissolved into blue light, vanishing into Aubrelle’s chest.

Elenara watched the phenomenon with raised brows.

”So it’s true...” she murmured. ”The extraordinary talent you spoke of... your daughter awakened a Unique Familiar at the age of eight.”

Thaleon inhaled sharply. Eldric stared at Elenara in disbelief.

”And not only that,” Elenara added softly, ”She has already advanced to the Spark core. At this age... Thaleon, I truly envy what your daughter will become.”

Her tone then shifted—gentle, but firm.

”...Although this is not the moment to discuss such matters.”

A seed of green light appeared between her fingers—

a communication item, blooming into a crystalline flower of mana.

She crushed it lightly between her palms—

BWOOM—

A green shockwave pulsed outward.

Within seconds, dozens of Sylvanel elves appeared through the same internal gate Elenara had used—druids, wardens, spirit-summoners.

They immediately spread through the garden, raising barriers, healing wounded Rosenthal members, sealing lingering void residue, and stabilizing the estate.

Elenara step aside, giving space for Thaleon to kneel beside his daughter.

”She will live,” the Matriarch said quietly. ”Because she fought... because her mother protected her... and because something ancient answered her cry.”

Thaleon nodded, tears gathering in his eyes as he touched Aubrelle’s hand.

”Thank you... Elenara.”

———————————————————————————————————

Aubrelle inhaled sharply. The memory loosened its grip, dissolving like smoke, and the sounds of the present returned—the quiet hum of voices from the banquet hall, distant clinking of glasses, and Pipin’s soft weight on her shoulder.

She blinked beneath the blindfold.

”...I’m back,” she murmured.

Pipin rubbed his small head against her cheek, a gentle trr-rrp vibrating from his chest—comfort, reassurance, a reminder that she was no longer that terrified child bleeding in the garden.

Aubrelle let out a shaky breath.

”I shouldn’t drift like that,” she whispered.

But her thoughts were still tangled in two worlds—the past that scarred her, and the present that demanded her strength.

”...I wonder when I’ll return to the Academy,” she said softly.

Pipin chirped, a firm sound this time—almost chastising.

She smiled faintly. ”I know, I know. I’m not helpless. And you’ll be with me.”

Another chirp—softer, warmer.

Aubrelle adjusted her posture, grounding herself. Through Pipin’s vision, she caught a glimpse of her father across the room—still deep in conversation with the other heads of family, expression tight with the weight of strategy and loss.

She lowered her head slightly.

”Father needs me focused... and the Academy...” Her voice softened. ”The Academy is the only place where I don’t feel like a burden.”

Pipin nipped playfully at a strand of her hair, making her smile again.

”Alright,” she whispered. ”You’re right. I’m not a burden.”

Pipin shifted on her shoulder, feathers brushing her jaw.

A sharp, teasing trr-rrrp? vibrated through him—

a meaning she understood instantly:

”So eager to return... to see your junior?”

Aubrelle jolted, heat rushing to her cheeks beneath the blindfold.

”N–No! That’s not—” She paused, fingers tightening slightly on her cane.

”...or maybe... I want to see him, we always have good conversations.”

Pipin let out another smug chirp.

Aubrelle huffed softly, flustered but smiling.

The little bird settled again against her neck, red eyes glowing with quiet loyalty.

Aubrelle straightened, letting the last echoes of the past fade.

The war was beginning. She would need courage, strength... and the familiar who had answered her desperate cry all those years ago.

”Thank you, Pipin,” she whispered, steadier this time.