I was reborn-ish into a world where everyone have useless-kinda-skills

In one of the castle’s grand meeting rooms, King Xerxes and his three children—Xhiva, Xander, and Xemera—stood around a massive table draped with a map of the continent. The king’s brow was furrowed as he traced the placement of his armies with a practiced hand.

“What’s all the commotion out there?” the king asked, glancing up with mild disinterest as distant shouts and the sounds of crumbling stone filtered in through the open window.

Xander, the tall, lean prince with a blade always at his side, leaned casually against the window frame, having observed much of the chaos unfolding below. He hesitated briefly before responding, “It seems that Roy, the red-haired one of the summoned, tested his skill... on the king’s tower.” He cast a careful look at his father. “It appears the entire tower took the brunt of the blow, father.”

The king hardly looked up from the map. “Think it can be repaired by tomorrow’s ball?”

Xander shook his head. “Highly doubtful.”

“Then showcase it tomorrow as a testament to our kingdom’s unrivaled destructive power. No wall—nor castle—stands in our way.” He moved one of his generals’ figurines on the map with a curt nudge. “And casualties?”

“One of our own,” Xander replied, his tone solemn. “A guard stationed in the tower.”

The king sighed, massaging his temples. “A pity,” he muttered, dismissing the matter.

Xemera stepped forward, her face set with fierce determination. “Father, why did you agree to a duel with this fool?”

The king finally moved to the window where Xander stood, observing the scattered remains of the tower’s upper walls. Xhiva, his rotund, food-loving son, remained slouched in his chair, more concerned with the array of delicacies before him than with the chaos outside.

“There are two reasons,” the king replied. “One, to avoid even the slightest shadow of weakness on our throne. Imagine the talk if word spread that I declined a challenge?”

“Father, our people would never doubt you,” Xemera insisted, pride swelling in her voice.

The king offered a tight, mirthless smile. “Perhaps. But if that were always true, the throne of a thousand crowns would be much less decorated. Better to uproot doubt before it spreads.” He lowered himself onto a high-backed chair, his gaze drifting to the ornately painted ceiling above them. “And second… something that even surprised me.”

Xemera’s curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, Father?”

The king raised an eyebrow toward Xhiva, who looked up between bites of honeyed pastry. “Xhiva, remind me—what is my skill?”

Xhiva swallowed hurriedly, licking his fingers as he replied, “Veritas Gaze, Father. Your gaze alone reveals the truth, a power feared across the realm. Even a flicker of dishonesty trembles under its light.”

The king nodded, satisfied, and continued, his children hanging onto his every word. “When that fool boasted about his ‘top-of-the-line’ artifact, it was an obvious lie.” He paused, noticing his children’s unsurprised expressions. But then he added, “However, the next thing he said—that it was a marvel of his world—that was true.”

Xemera gasped, her face a mix of disbelief and indignation. Xhiva set down his food, looking stunned, while Xander, usually lost in his own thoughts, raised an intrigued eyebrow.

The king exhaled, almost reluctantly. “The man may be a fool, but even a fool’s truth can hold power. I’m not so foolish myself as to let slip the opportunity to harness whatever technology his world can offer.”

There was a sudden knock at the door. Straightening, the king dismissed his children with a wave. “We’ll resume our strategy discussions later. Each of you should prepare for tomorrow’s ball; representatives from far and wide will attend, and I expect you all to bring pride to our house.”

“Enter,” he called out, and the head chef and several assistants stepped inside, each bowing deeply.

“My king, the royal kitchen stands ready for your duel preparations,” the head chef announced. “With your permission, we’ll ensure that you prevail against this challenger who dares face you in the art of baking.”

The king’s gaze sharpened with determination as he moved through the assembled chefs. “Victory will be absolute.”

******

It was finally Niles’ turn to showcase his skill. He hadn’t bothered to read any instructions—he just said, “Barrier!” and, with a flicker of light, a translucent, blue-tinged wall the size of a door emerged in front of him. Intrigued, he swung his arm, and the barrier moved in sync. “Huh, this is actually pretty neat,” Niles murmured, watching the barrier follow his hand, swaying left, then right.

The others watched cautiously from a safe distance, their nerves still on edge after the previous mishaps. Roy, secretly hoping for a minor disaster that might overshadow his own catastrophic cannon misfire, sighed in disappointment. Gustavus, however, looked impressed—it was the first useful thing he’d seen Niles do since they’d met.

Aurelia smiled, pleased. At least Niles had been granted something that seemed somewhat practical. With any luck, he might be able to wield it in the duel against King Xerxes.

When he finished, Niles canceled the skill with a dramatic flourish, dropping his hand like he was dismissing a mic. He turned to his “planet buddies,” grinning with pride that his skill demonstration hadn’t ended in catastrophe.

“Well done, Sir Niles!” the assistant applauded. “Thank you for sharing your skill.”

Niles took a deep bow, as if he’d just been given a prestigious award. “It doesn’t get better than this!” he declared, flexing his arms. “I say it’s time to skip to town.”

The assistant looked alarmed. “You’re not planning to dodge the duel, are you?”

“What? No!” Niles looked almost hurt. “I just want to see the town.”

The assistant hesitated but finally admitted, “Due to... the accident”—he gestured to the wrecked castle tower, still smoldering from Roy’s mishap—"we’re all confined here until it’s safe again.”

Niles sighed, his excitement deflating. It seemed bureaucracy, his age-old nemesis from Earth, had followed him here.

“Well,” he said, “guess I’ll start making connections right here. Do a little networking.”

“Networking?” Aurelia echoed, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, making friends. Like I did with Roy and Gustavus here,” he said, slinging his arm around his ‘planet buddies.’ “Right, guys?”

Roy gave him a sidelong glance. “I’d use my cannon on you, but I’m too tired. Guess I’m out of mana or something. Actually, I’m pretty sure I need to lie down.”

“Oh no, please!” Niles threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Spare the rest of the castle; it never hurt you!” Gustavus chuckled, and even Roy let out a reluctant laugh.

“Roy, you know, I could try my healing on you,” Gustavus offered, wiggling his fingers like a ghostly puppeteer near Roy’s face.

Roy leaned away, horrified. “No, thanks! The only person you ever tried to heal died horribly, remember?”

“Pretty poor save rate for a healer,” Niles joked, and they all broke into laughter. Somehow, in the midst of the absurdity, there was a real sense of camaraderie.

“Anyway,” Niles said after a beat, dusting himself off “I’m going to take a stroll around the castle, anyone, care to join me?”

The assistant piped up nervously, “Actually, Sir Niles… Sir Roy and Sir Gustavus, as well as myself, still need to stay back to report the… recent incidents.” He shot a pointed look at Roy, who avoided his gaze with a sheepish shrug.

“But Sir Niles, since you and Lady Aurelia weren’t involved in any of the accidents, you’re free to go for a stroll,” the assistant added, with more relief than professionalism.

Aurelia, managing to suppress her own grin, gave him a steady nod. “Lead the way, oh master of networking.”

Roy sighed, waving them off with a smirk. “Have fun, you two. Just don’t go breaking any towers.”

Niles threw an exaggerated salute back at him. “No promises.” And with that, he and Aurelia set off, leaving the others to face the castle’s inevitable questions.