Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent

Kyle strolled through the village with an almost lazy gait, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded as he soaked in the early afternoon sun.

The wind was mild, the air smelled of freshly turned earth, and birds chirped overhead as if life in the village couldn't be more peaceful.

To any observer, Kyle looked like a man without a single worry in the world.

But beneath that calm exterior, his mind was anything but relaxed.

He was sensing. Reaching out with the threads of his mana, brushing it against the world around him like invisible tendrils feeling for a pulse.

And among the scattered auras of his people, something faint but unmistakable kept tugging at his senses—like a persistent whisper in a quiet room.

'Divine energy.'

He exhaled slowly. It wasn't overwhelming yet, but it was there. New. Unnatural.

Kyle followed the strongest trail, weaving through streets and alleys until he spotted a familiar face—one of the older farmers, a man named Halem, who was unloading crates of freshly harvested vegetables.

There was a lightness to the man's movements that hadn't been there before. The hunched back was straighter. His once-quiet demeanor now buzzed with something else. Energy? Confidence?

Divinity.

Kyle approached, wearing his usual crooked smile.

"Halem."

The farmer turned and stiffened slightly at the sight of him.

"Y-Young Master! Didn't expect to see you here today. I—I hope everything's alright?"

Kyle tilted his head.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Halem blinked.

"Me?"

"You look different. Healthier. Livelier. Something changed?"

Kyle said, his tone easy, unreadable.

The farmer chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Ah… that. Yeah, I guess I've found a new sense of direction lately. Confidence, you might say. It's like I finally understand what I should be doing."

Kyle's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, though his smile never faltered.

"Direction, huh? Or is it protection?"

Halem blinked again, caught off guard.

"You… you noticed?"

Kyle shrugged.

"Just a feeling."

The farmer laughed nervously.

"Well, yes, I've started attending sermons. There's a new priest in the nearby settlement. Talks about the grace of the divine, how we're not alone in this world, you know? I've been visiting when I can. It's helped, honestly. I've been sleeping better, working better… even my wife says I seem younger."

Kyle nodded, his gaze drifting for a moment to the nearby fields.

"Must be nice."

Halem seemed encouraged.

"If I may say so, Young Master… if things ever feel too much, you can turn to the gods too. They offer peace. Support. We don't have to carry everything alone."

Kyle turned back to him, eyes unreadable.

"That's kind of you, Halem. But I'm afraid that's not for me."

"Oh?"

"The source of all my misfortunes is the gods themselves. Why would I ever ask them for help?"

Kyle said, voice low but sharp.

Halem's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He looked confused, almost embarrassed, as if he'd touched a sore nerve without realizing it.

Kyle clapped him lightly on the shoulder before walking away.

"Take care of your fields. And your faith."

As Kyle left, his smile faded. He no longer had to guess—this was proof.

The divine had started to seep into his village.

It was subtle, like a disease in its early stages—barely visible, but there, multiplying.

The farmer was only the beginning. Kyle could feel others, too. Faint divine signatures in the wind, in the soil, clinging to people like fine dust.

He ground his teeth.

They were moving faster than expected. The temples, the priests, their silent influence—it was all coordinated.

And now that a god had descended in the holy lands, it was clear their mission was spreading outward with fervor.

He had no doubt this was intentional. His village, his people—he was being targeted.

Kyle looked up at the sky, expression unreadable.

"So, this is how it begins."

A war not of swords or fire—but of belief, of influence, of slow conquest through kind words and glowing sermons.

He would not allow it.

They could send all the priests they wanted. Whisper promises of salvation and offer shiny miracles to his people. But Kyle would fight them with truth, with reason—and if that failed, then with force.

He had been preparing for war.

Now, it seemed, he would also have to prepare for faith.

Kyle made his way to the main building, the worn wood of the floor creaking softly beneath his steps. As he approached the office, voices filtered through the half-open door.

"You need to rest, Melissa. You can't keep pushing yourself like this. The curse might be dormant, but your body still needs time."

Bruce said, his tone gentle but firm.

"I'm not in pain anymore. I can handle myself, Bruce. I won't slow things down."

Melissa replied curtly.

Bruce sighed in clear frustration.

"That's not the point. You won't help anyone if you collapse."

Kyle paused for a moment, letting the exchange finish before knocking once and stepping inside.

Both Bruce and Melissa turned to him in surprise.

"Young master."

Bruce greeted, bowing slightly.

Kyle nodded and leaned against the doorframe.

"Bruce. Are you aware that a rat managed to crawl inside our little sanctuary?"

Bruce stiffened.

"...I've been meaning to look deeper into that. I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened."

Kyle waved a hand dismissively.

"Don't apologize. We'll use this breach. If there's one rat, there are more. I'll use this to flush them all out… and uproot everything they've buried."

Bruce straightened with resolve.

"I'll begin preparations immediately."

"No. Keep everything as it is. We need them to feel comfortable. I want them to think they've succeeded."

Kyle said.

"Understood."

Then Kyle turned his gaze to Melissa.

"And how are you holding up?"

Melissa gave a small smile, standing straighter than before.

"I'm fine, really."

But Kyle's sharp eyes didn't miss the faint pallor on her skin or the slight tremble in her fingers.

The curse was progressing.

Even if she no longer admitted to the pain, it was eating away at her, slowly.

Kyle frowned.

"You're pushing too hard again."

"I can take it. Please, Kyle. I need to be useful."

She said quickly.

"You already are. I need you to last longer than a few weeks, Melissa. You don't have to prove anything."

He said, voice soft.

Her smile faltered, just a little, but she nodded.

Kyle stepped inside fully, his presence grounding the room.

"Bruce, keep monitoring the divine-tainted. And Melissa… take shifts. No arguments."

"Yes, young master."

Bruce replied.

Melissa hesitated, then murmured.

"Alright."

Kyle didn't believe her. But for now, he let it slide.

He had enemies within and a war looming on all sides.

But this—his people—he would protect them, no matter what it took.

Kyle lingered a moment longer, eyes fixed on Melissa.

He could feel the weight she carried—not just the curse, but the pressure to be someone he could rely on. She didn't want to fall behind. She didn't want to be left behind.

"After this is over, I'll find a way to remove that curse entirely. You won't carry it forever."

He said quietly.

Melissa's eyes widened, and for the first time in days, something close to hope flickered there.

"Is it a promise?"

She asked.

Kyle gave a faint smile.

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

And with that, he turned to leave.