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

Lady Senra entered her guest room and immediately flinched, her breath catching as the dense pressure of Kyle's mana hung in the air like a storm cloud.

He didn't even look at her—just sat there, composed, arms crossed, eyes shut as if awaiting nothing more than time to pass. It made her nerves fray even further.

'Don't be intimidated. This is your home.'

She repeated in her mind.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, it was hard to believe when Kyle Armstrong—the Kyle Armstrong—was in her house, and everything about him radiated danger and judgment.

Gathering her courage, she smoothed her dress and walked further inside.

"Young Lord Armstrong. Might I ask why you've come to my estate unannounced?"

She said, her voice holding an edge of forced calm.

Kyle finally opened his eyes and tilted his head, an amused glint dancing in his gaze.

"Lady Senra. why don't you try thinking for yourself? What do you suppose you might have done to deserve a visit from me?"

He said slowly,

A cold sweat crawled down her back.

"I… I don't know what you mean. I have nothing to hide."

She replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

Kyle's smile widened just slightly.

"Good. Then you won't mind if I begin a personal investigation—after all, I'm quite eager to find out who's been betraying their empire and sabotaging the army."

Lady Senra paled.

Kyle stood up, his boots echoing ominously on the polished floor.

He didn't wait for her response, simply began to walk around the room slowly, glancing at the walls, the furniture, the intricacies of the place. His silence was louder than any threat.

She bit her lip.

'No. This can't happen. If he finds anything…'

A flick of her wrist was all it took.

From the corner entrance, the guards stepped forward—three men in dark armor who worked as her personal enforcers.

While they weren't political experts, they were loyal and unaware of Kyle's reputation beyond being a nobleman with unusual influence.

One of them stepped forward.

"Lord Armstrong, we must ask you to stop. Lady Senra has not permitted this search. Please return to your seat or exit the room."

Kyle paused mid-step.

He turned, slow and deliberate. His gaze swept over the men without urgency—just cool calculation.

"Did she not tell you who I am?"

He asked, voice low, almost curious.

The guards stood their ground, spears raised.

"I said stop. Or we'll be forced to act."

The lead one repeated.

Lady Senra's heart thundered in her chest.

"Please, let's not make this any more unpleasant than it needs to be, Lord Armstrong."

Kyle's gaze snapped to her. The amusement in his expression vanished, replaced with something far colder.

"Unpleasant? Lady Senra, you've already crossed that line the moment you dared poison my men."

He echoed softly.

Then, without another word, his mana exploded outward.

The room groaned under the sudden force—curtains blew open, vases cracked, and the three guards were immediately thrown back into the walls, their weapons clattering to the floor.

They didn't even have time to scream.

Lady Senra stumbled back in horror, catching herself against a table.

"You—You're mad! This is an attack on nobility—on the court!"

Kyle walked toward her, unbothered, composed as ever.

"This isn't an attack. It's a warning."

He said.

He leaned down slightly, his voice now a whisper against her ear.

"The next time you conspire against me, Lady Senra… you won't get a visit. You'll get judgment."

She didn't respond. She couldn't. Her mouth was dry and her legs weak.

Kyle stood straight again and left her there, frozen, as he stepped past the fallen guards. Behind him, the weight of his words crushed the room far more than his mana ever could.

______

Kyle walked through Lady Senra's grand estate with measured, unwavering steps, his gaze cold and analytical as he scanned every inch of the opulent surroundings.

Gold trimmings, imported art, and priceless furniture lined the hallways—but none of that interested him. He wasn't here for luxury. He was here to confirm what he already knew.

Divine energy. Faint, but unmistakable.

Kyle extended a hand and allowed a thin stream of his mana to stretch outward, seeking the remnants of divine interference.

The trail wasn't even subtle—whoever had taught these nobles how to serve the gods had done so carelessly.

His mana followed the thread like smoke chasing a scent, leading him up marble staircases, through servant corridors, and finally to the attic.

The locked door crumbled at his touch.

Inside was a hidden altar—elaborate and grand, tucked away beneath a lattice of wood and divine inscriptions.

Vials of sacred oils, bowls of ashes, ornate prayer beads, and gold offerings were meticulously arranged in a circle.

The room pulsed with divine mana strong enough to rival a small temple's.

Kyle stood in silence for a moment, studying the structure. This wasn't just an offering spot. It was a full-blown conduit.

A place to channel divine energy directly into the mortal realm.

His expression darkened.

Without hesitation, Kyle walked toward the center, raising his hand. Mana surged around his palm as he brought it down onto the altar.

There was a blinding flash of light as the symbols shattered, the altar cracked, and the divine energy recoiled violently before being smothered by Kyle's power.

A shockwave rippled outward, shaking the walls and snapping wooden beams.

The false sanctum was no more.

A cry of fury echoed from behind him.

Lady Senra, disheveled and wide-eyed, burst into the attic just in time to witness her secret altar crumble into ruin.

"You bastard! What have you done?! Do you have any idea—any idea—what you've destroyed?!"

She shrieked.

Kyle didn't even turn to look at her.

"A gateway."

She ran forward, trying to salvage what she could, but it was too late.

The runes had been crushed, the offerings disrupted, and the divine link severed. The attic trembled, and the entire house groaned under the spiritual collapse.

Dust rained from the ceiling as the very foundation of her estate started cracking.

"You ruined everything! Why?! Why would you—?!"

She screamed.

Only then did Kyle look at her, eyes glinting with unfeeling steel.

"For what? Some divine favors? A taste of wealth and recognition? You sold your soul for gold. You risked this empire for a false promise. You poisoned my soldiers and built shrines to those who would see your people rot."

He took a step toward her, each word a hammer blow.

She clenched her fists.

"You don't understand! We were desperate—!"

"No. You were greedy."

Kyle interrupted, his tone final.

She flinched as though struck.

"This wasn't survival. This was ambition. And now… this is your reckoning."

As Kyle walked past her, the house shook again, the pillars groaning beneath the weight of divine rejection.

The destroyed altar had been the keystone holding back the wrath of the gods and the price of their interference. Now it was gone. And so was the shield it had offered.

By the time he left Lady Senra's estate, the staff were rushing around in panic, the structure nearly caving in. But he didn't look back. He had more work to do.

And he didn't stop.

That day, ten noble houses fell.

Each one had hidden altars, concealed offerings, or stockpiles of divine relics used to channel power into their schemes.

Each one tried to plead or fight or reason. And each one fell beneath Kyle's hand—swift, ruthless, and unstoppable.

Temples were burned.

Divine conduits were shattered.

And the gods watching from afar felt their anchors in the mortal realm begin to vanish, one after another.

Kyle didn't need the emperor's permission or the crown prince's signature.

He acted with the authority of a man who knew that gods bled, and those who served them out of cowardice deserved no better than the tyrants they worshipped.

By the time the sun set, word had spread. Kyle Armstrong had begun purging the empire—and nothing would stand in his way.