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

The moment the ceremonial kiss ended and the crowd roared in joy, a new wave of anticipation passed through the grand hall.

The heavy red carpet parted as Crown Prince Mikalius stood up from his gilded seat, his cloak sweeping behind him like a banner of authority.

Every step he took echoed with gravity, and the noise began to hush as the prince made his way toward the newlyweds.

Kyle stood upright, his hand still wrapped around Amana's, as Mikalius approached. His usual relaxed smirk had been replaced by a faint frown—partly from knowing this day wouldn't pass without some royal declaration.

Mikalius halted before him, eyes alight with mirth and burden alike.

"Well then, as the rightful husband of Grand Duchess Amana, you, Kyle Armstrong, shall henceforth take the title of Grand Duke of the Eastern Marches. The royal decree will be signed tonight. Congratulations—and welcome to the family."

The crown prince said, his voice loud enough for the entire hall to hear.

There was polite clapping and muffled gasps, but all eyes were now glued to Kyle, waiting for his reply. For a moment, Kyle said nothing. Then, ever so casually, he raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose I should say thank you."

Kyle said dryly, then gave the prince a sideways look.

But Mikalius, you know I've never been one for ceremonies and crowns. I'll do what I can to help... but don't expect me to forget my own goals. I'm still a free spirit."

Mikalius only laughed, the sound bright and sharp.

"You've always been honest about that. But still… the realm needs you. And I need you. With you and Amana at my side, there's no one left who can stand against us."

Kyle didn't reply, only giving a small nod. The conversation passed as though it were light and political—but beneath the surface, both men understood what was being promised, and what could no longer be avoided.

The atmosphere remained festive. Wine flowed, musicians played, nobles from distant lands toasted, and servants brought out more trays of food than the eye could track.

Even Melissa and Silvy, now dressed in matching silver gowns that mirrored Amana's colors, joined in with the crowd, their eyes never leaving Kyle for long.

But Kyle's own gaze had grown distant.

There was something… off.

The air felt thicker somehow—weighted. The kind of shift that only someone deeply attuned to mana or the flow of fate would feel.

Kyle's fingers twitched ever so slightly, his instincts rising unbidden. It was as though the world was tilting, and something—some presence or force—was coiling just beyond sight.

Kyle excused himself from the crowd and stepped onto the terrace overlooking the capital. The skies above were clear, stars glittering in innocent defiance.

But even under that calm, his heartbeat quickened.

Amana came beside him, soft and radiant in her wedding dress.

"Are you alright?"

She asked, her tone light, but her expression worried.

He didn't answer immediately.

"Something's changing. Something big. The ground's already shifting beneath us, and we're just standing here pretending the world is still the same."

He muttered.

Amana looked at him, startled by the seriousness in his tone.

"Do you think we're in danger?"

"Not immediately. But something's coming. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow. But soon. The gods have been far too quiet. The ones that remain… they're planning something."

Kyle's eyes narrowed.

A cold wind blew across the balcony. Amana shivered, despite herself. Kyle placed his coat over her shoulders, his expression unreadable.

"Whatever it is, we'll face it together. You're not alone anymore, Kyle."

Amana said quietly,

"I know. And that's why I have to be even more careful now."

He replied.

From inside, Mikalius kept a close eye on the two. He had noticed the shift in Kyle's demeanor. And though he didn't possess Kyle's supernatural instincts, he wasn't foolish.

The last time Kyle had been like this, a god had descended and half a city had been wiped off the map.

The crown prince turned to his attendant.

"Send word to our informants across the border. I want every divine artifact, trace of forbidden mana, or strange rumor investigated. Tell them to look for anything that feels... wrong."

The attendant nodded and hurried off.

Mikalius turned back to the crowd, forcing himself to raise another toast.

He had hoped this day would be one of peace. But peace, he realized, was always short-lived when gods walked among men—and Kyle Armstrong had long since ceased to be ordinary.

The hall was beginning to settle as the celebrations wound down, soft music echoing beneath the grand arches.

Kyle offered his hand to the Grand Duchess, and she accepted it with a warm smile. The weight of their vows still lingered between them, but for once, Kyle allowed himself a moment of peace.

"Let's return. Just you and me tonight."

He said quietly.

Amana nodded, her fingers lacing through his. The two began walking toward the private wing of the estate, passing by guests offering polite bows and blessings.

But as they neared the exit, a sharp crackling sound tore through the calm.

Kyle froze.

Behind them, a nobleman—one of the mid-tier lords from the western frontier—stood trembling violently.

His goblet dropped to the floor, shattering. His pupils dilated unnaturally, glowing faintly with gold. Mana surged through him in jagged bursts, like lightning trapped beneath skin.

Kyle turned on his heel instantly.

"Get back."

He said, pushing Amana behind him.

The noble let out a strangled gasp before his body began to bulge. His veins turned black, stretching beneath his skin, and his mouth opened in a silent scream as a violent surge of mana gathered at his core.

"Damn it."

Kyle muttered. In the blink of an eye, he dashed forward, ignoring the startled cries behind him. His hand slammed into the noble's chest, and his mana shot inward, forcibly compressing and containing the energy that was about to explode.

The body convulsed once, twice—then went limp in his arms.

The guests screamed. Soldiers and guards rushed in, swords drawn. The man was dead—but had he exploded, dozens would have followed him.

Crown Prince Mikalius stormed forward, his eyes burning.

"Who let this happen?! Search everyone! This was no ordinary accident—this was a coordinated attack!"

But Kyle's voice cut through the room like steel.

"It won't matter."

Everyone turned to him. His tone was flat. Cold.

"This wasn't voluntary. His will was already gone before he stood up. He was being controlled—divine control. This was a puppet."

Kyle said as he slowly laid the noble's body down. "

Mikalius's jaw tightened.

"Another god?"

Kyle nodded grimly.

"And not a passive one. If they're already infiltrating the hall—our wedding of all places—then this isn't a test. This is a declaration."

He stood up and looked around, meeting the eyes of every noble, soldier, and servant present.

"This wasn't the last attempt. Get ready. Our real enemy just made its move."

Kyle said darkly.

Kyle's gaze swept over the hall, lingering on the frightened faces.

The Grand Duchess stood beside him, her expression composed but her fingers clutching his sleeve tightly. Crown Prince Mikalius clenched his fists.

Thankfully, the wedding had taken place without interruptions.

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