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

The temple's interior was like stepping into another world—dim, ancient, and suffocating. Every stone slab exuded divine pressure, and the scent of burning incense hung heavy in the air.

Kyle walked calmly at the front, eyes sharp, his mana threads stretched in every direction to monitor changes.

Behind him, Bruce and Melissa trailed with clenched jaws and hunched shoulders.

They were halfway up the final flight of stairs to the inner sanctuary when Bruce suddenly dropped to one knee.

"Tch... damn it."

He grunted, sweat dripping down his brow.

Melissa stumbled next, clutching the railing as she struggled to stand upright.

"It's… too heavy…"

Kyle paused at the top of the steps, glancing back. He said nothing—only watched.

The divine energy near the sanctuary wasn't just oppressive. It was alive. It wrapped around intruders like chains, testing them, squeezing the breath from their lungs and the mana from their bones.

Kyle could see Bruce's muscles trembling and Melissa's breathing turning shallow. Still, he made no move to help them.

This was necessary.

Power wasn't handed out—it was earned through pain, through grit, through moments like this.

Bruce looked up, locking eyes with his young master.

"Go ahead, young master… we'll catch up. We'll find a way."

Melissa nodded, forcing herself to rise despite the shaking in her legs.

"Don't slow down for us. We'll make it."

Kyle stared at them for a long, silent moment. Then he sighed, eyes narrowing.

"You really think I'm standing here out of concern?"

They blinked.

"My presence is the only thing keeping the temple's defense from tearing you apart. You move an inch without me, and the divine constructs lurking in these walls will devour you alive."

He said flatly.

Bruce winced.

"Of course…"

"But—"

Kyle continued, tone sharper now.

"—I won't help you either. Climb. Fight. Endure. Or crawl."

He turned away.

The divine pressure thickened even more, almost as if it had heard Kyle's words and accepted his challenge.

Bruce grit his teeth and resumed his climb, inch by inch. Melissa followed, lips pressed into a firm line.

Kyle watched them silently for one more second… and that's when it happened.

A sudden crack in the air—like the snap of a dry bone—and a blinding spike of divine energy surged toward him from above.

Kyle spun instantly, raising his sword just in time.

CLANG!

Sparks erupted. His blade intercepted a thin dagger aimed directly at his heart. The force was small—almost negligible—but precise. Lethally precise.

The attacker skidded back with inhuman grace, landing lightly on bare feet.

A boy.

No older than ten, bones jutting from under stretched skin. His frame was so malnourished that Kyle was sure a solid hit would shatter it. Yet, the boy's eyes gleamed—not with pain, not fear.

Amusement.

"Interesting. You're not like the others."

The child murmured, voice hollow and serene.

Kyle lowered his sword slightly, studying the boy.

"You're the vessel."

He said flatly.

The boy tilted his head.

"Vessel? Perhaps. But I prefer being myself. At least… what's left of me."

His aura crackled again—divine and volatile. Not natural. Not stable. This wasn't just a child infused with godly power—this was a god barely restrained by a mortal frame.

Kyle felt it then. Moras. A part of it was within this boy, looking out through his eyes. But something wasn't right.

The god wasn't in full control yet. The boy's own soul was resisting it—barely, but enough to cause instability.

Kyle clicked his tongue.

"You're not ready."

"Neither are you."

The vessel replied, and lunged again.

They clashed in the middle of the stairwell, sword to dagger. Every strike echoed like thunder, shaking the entire floor.

Behind him, Melissa and Bruce huddled close to the wall, shielding themselves from the force of divine mana that crackled with every impact.

Kyle's blade danced, but he kept his strikes shallow. One wrong move, and this body would break beyond repair.

Still, the boy fought with the precision of someone older than time.

"I don't want to kill you."

Kyle muttered.

"That's fine. But I wants to kill you."

The boy said, smiling faintly.

With a burst of unnatural speed, the vessel slid under Kyle's guard and thrust forward. Kyle twisted, dodging by a hair's breadth and slamming the hilt of his sword into the boy's shoulder.

A sickening crack echoed. The boy flew backward, but landed on his feet again.

His shoulder was broken. Yet he didn't flinch.

"You'll break yourself."

Kyle warned him.

"Stop."

But the boy—no, the god inside him—was grinning now.

The vessel's next strike came with a howl of divine energy. As the sword swung down, radiant light wrapped around it—so dense with power that even the walls trembled.

When it clashed with Kyle's blade, a blast of force erupted, a shockwave splitting the stone beneath their feet and sending cracks crawling up the sanctuary walls.

Bruce and Melissa were flung back by the sheer pressure, landing hard against the stairwell.

Kyle stood unmoved.

The air shimmered with lingering power, the heat searing, but he remained perfectly still, sword raised, shoulders squared.

The explosion should have vaporized anything in its path. But not only had he stopped the vessel's strike, he had absorbed the divine backlash radiating from the clash.

The boy's thin lips curled into a small smile.

"Interesting."

He murmured, amusement dripping from his voice.

Then, slowly, the fog in the boy's eyes lifted—and Kyle felt the presence behind them surge forward.

It was no longer just the boy who looked at him.

It was it.

Moras.

Cold and ancient. Alien and vast.

The stare that met Kyle's was no longer playful. It was divine authority condensed into one glance, enough to choke the breath from any living thing.

"Who are you?"

Moras asked, its voice echoing from within the boy's frame, layered and inhuman.

"No mortal should be able to block that strike… not when I have personally descended into this world."

The weight of that voice alone caused the air to bend. Even the ground groaned, and Bruce clutched his chest from afar, struggling to breathe.

Kyle didn't answer.

Instead, he moved.

His feet cracked the floor, and his sword sliced through the haze with impossible speed.

A counterattack.

The divine pressure split for just a moment as Kyle's blade surged toward the vessel's throat.

Moras twisted the boy's body just in time, evading the slash by the breadth of a breath. The sharp wind of Kyle's swing still nicked the vessel's cheek, and a line of golden blood bloomed.

The god's brows twitched.

"So that's your answer…"

Kyle leveled his sword again. "I'm not interested in conversations."

For a moment, neither moved.

The god stared, and Kyle stared back.

Moras's vessel licked the drop of divine blood from its lip and grinned.

"Then come, little mortal. Let's see how long you can stand before me."

The god whispered.

Kyle didn't respond.

He took one step forward.

And the sanctuary shook anew.

Moras's smile deepened, its vessel's limbs twitching with untamed divinity.

"You're intriguing. More than a nuisance—perhaps even entertainment."

It hissed.

Kyle's grip tightened.

"You'll find I'm more than that. But you don't need to know that just yet."