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

God of Judgment Minatous sat upon his obsidian throne in the Temple of Verdict, his expression darkening as the energy around him flickered and stuttered.

One by one, the ritual offerings that had flowed into his dominion—the chants, the sacrifices, the blood oaths and trial ceremonies—faded into silence.

The golden light of his divine pillars dimmed. His brow twitched, and he clenched the armrest of his throne hard enough to crack it.

"What… is this?"

He hissed, rising to his feet.

He cast his divine perception down to the mortal world, intending to see which priest or region had disrupted the sacred rites.

But the moment his will descended, he was shoved back violently, as if slammed by an invisible wall.

For a god who presided over balance, law, and order, it was an affront of the highest level.

Minatous's eyes widened.

"Impossible. Who dares—?"

He tried again, this time focusing all his might, calling on his dominion over justice to force an answer from the world itself. Yet the result was the same.

His connection was denied—no, overwritten. A foreign mana was rising rapidly over the continent. He had felt it before… ancient, wild, and dangerously willful.

Kyle Armstrong.

Grinding his teeth in fury, Minatous spun around, his cloak billowing with golden light as he stormed toward the divine gates of his realm.

Moments later, he emerged in the sanctum of the chief god, Arkenas—the Prime Throne of the pantheon, bathed in cosmic light and untouched by mortal corruption.

Arkenas sat calmly upon his grand dais, eyes half-lidded in contemplation as if he had been expecting this.

"Minatous. What brings you here in such… turbulent form?"

He greeted coolly.

"You know why I'm here. The human, Kyle Armstrong—he has desecrated the sacred rituals. My ceremonies have ceased. My influence is cut off!" He pointed a finger accusingly. "You told us his interference was under control."

Minatous growled.

The chief god did not flinch.

"Control is a fluid concept."

Minatous slammed a fist against the marble floor, a ripple of judgment cracking through the tiles.

"He has already slain Charrin and Tirakos. Now he's severing our influence from the mortal world! We do nothing?"

Arkenas waved a hand, and the cracks sealed instantly.

"Measurements are being taken. Lucia is no longer an issue. The world is shifting in our favor. Kyle is strong, yes—but he remains a man."

"He's far more than that. And if we continue to underestimate him, we'll end up like the others."

Minatous spat.

Arkenas opened his eyes fully now, gaze sharp as blades.

"Then you underestimate me, Minatous. I am not like Charrin or Tirakos. Kyle Armstrong will be dealt with—soon."

Minatous wanted to protest again, but the weight of the Prime Throne's will pressed down on him. After a long silence, he bowed slightly.

"Of course… forgive me. I forget myself."

"Focus on your domain. There are many worlds to govern. This one will be ours again—soon."

Arkenas advised.

Minatous left the throne room, but there was no peace in his steps.

Once in his own realm again, the god of judgment stood alone before his mirror of worlds, watching the mortal plane that had slipped so dangerously out of balance.

Despite Arkenas's words, Minatous could not calm the burning discontent inside him. Justice denied was justice undone.

He paced restlessly.

"This is not how it's supposed to go…"

Charrin and Tirakos had fallen, yes—but that had been due to overconfidence, a reckless rush to dominate.

They had underestimated the human, engaged him before understanding him. Minatous would not make that same mistake.

No, he would not sit back and watch from above.

He would descend.

Take on a mortal shell, walk among the people, and see with his own eyes how this Kyle had gained such dominance.

Perhaps he could still stop this threat before it consumed their divine order. He, Minatous, would bring judgment personally.

And if Kyle was truly as dangerous as the signs claimed… then he would be executed by the very law he defied.

But first, he needed preparation.

Not even a god could enter the mortal plane so easily now—not with Kyle's influence infecting it.

A new identity, a stable vessel, a method of descent without tripping the alarms Kyle had so cleverly established…

Minatous turned to his altar of descent and began the ancient preparations.

This time, there would be no error.

In the silent stillness of his divine chamber, Minatous extended a thin thread of divine consciousness across realms, aiming to connect with his most devout priest in the mortal world—a man who had served him faithfully for over two decades.

The god's divine gaze pierced through the boundaries between worlds, descending like a falling sword toward his temple on the mortal plane.

He expected to feel the familiar warmth of prayer and duty awaiting him.

What he found instead was fire.

The sacred hall was in ruins, marble pillars shattered, divine relics reduced to rubble. The walls, once etched with his holy laws, now lay scorched and broken.

At the center of the devastation lay his priest—unconscious, unmoving, his robes torn and stained with ash.

Minatous's breath caught in his throat.

Before he could react, something moved beyond the dust.

A figure stepped into view, cloaked in shadowed mana that writhed like a beast held barely in check.

And then, from within that swirl of violent energy, Kyle Armstrong looked up—his eyes locking directly with Minatous through the divine tether, as if he had been waiting.

Kyle's expression was calm, too calm.

Then his hand rose, fingers splayed as his mana surged outward in a silent wave, coiling around the shattered room.

Minatous tried to pull away—but it was too late.

The divine connection shattered.

A sharp burst of pain slammed through Minatous's chest as he staggered back, coughing violently—and then, to his horror, blood stained his palm. A god bleeding? It was unthinkable.

He collapsed to one knee, divine energy fluctuating violently as his realm trembled for a breath.

"...No. This… This isn't possible."

He muttered, voice hoarse and stunned.

No human—no matter how blessed or powerful—should be able to inflict real damage on a god through a spiritual link. That was a boundary meant to be absolute.

Yet Kyle had crushed it.

Minatous wiped the blood from his lips, eyes narrowed with a mixture of fury and dawning fear.

There was something wrong here.

No human should have this strength. No soul should have such dominance over divinity.

"…Who are you, Kyle Armstrong? And what have you become?"

He whispered, trembling with a suspicion he could no longer deny.

Minatous staggered upright, clutching his chest as the divine energy around him fluctuated wildly.

His mind raced, replaying the image of Kyle's gaze—cold, steady, and far too knowing.

That wasn't the gaze of a mortal challenging the heavens. It was the gaze of someone who had already stood above them once.

"Not a human… not anymore. He knew I was watching. He let me see. That was a warning."

Minatous muttered, eyes wide with disbelief.

His breath came slow and ragged.

Whatever Kyle Armstrong was now, he wasn't just a threat. He was a predator—hunting gods. And Minatous was next.