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

The divine gateway sealed shut behind them, and the god of war's boots scraped against the polished white marble of the gods' realm as he was half-dragged, half-walked through the long corridor.

His once-proud shoulders slumped, his armor cracked and scorched from the battle, and his eyes burned—not from pain, but from shame.

"I could have won. You should have let me fight. At least dying by his hand would have meant I lost in battle, not like this—like a coward pulled from the field."

He muttered for the third time, glaring sideways at the goddess beside him.

Lucia didn't respond.

His voice rose, bitterness slipping into every word.

"I am the god of war. I have fought endless battles, crushed realms, shattered nations! I will not be remembered as a defeated relic who had to be saved like a mortal child!"

Still, Lucia didn't look at him. Her eyes were ahead, fixed on the glowing doors at the end of the corridor.

"Are you listening to me?!"

He snapped.

"I heard you. I just chose not to respond to delusions."

She said softly.

He scowled, his fists clenching.

"You don't understand what it means to be a warrior—"

"I understand that you lost. And I understand that the only reason your consciousness still clings to your body is because Chief God Arkenas deems you useful. Now stop whining."

She said sharply, stopping in front of the massive golden doors.

The doors creaked open, revealing a blinding chamber of light and celestial runes, where Arkenas sat on his high throne of radiant crystal.

He looked pristine, as if carved from starlight itself—an eternal being untarnished by the passage of time.

The Chief God smiled as they entered.

"Ah, there he is. My victorious general. Welcome home."

Arkenas said, his tone far too cheerful to be sincere.

The god of war's expression twisted with suspicion.

"You look pleased. Tell me, what is it you're planning, Arkenas?"

The Chief God waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing away a fly.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Everything is under control."

"I was humiliated. You said I would reshape the world. That I would become the cornerstone of the new era."

The god of war growled.

"And you will. All you have to do is rest. Go to sleep, and when you awaken, the world will be in perfect balance. One where your strength will matter again."

Arkenas replied with the air of someone indulging a child.

Something about those words sent a chill through the god of war's spine.

"I don't need rest. I need a chance to redeem myself."

Arkenas rose from his throne, stepping down toward the god of war like a father approaching a favored—but failing—child.

"You've done enough. And now… now it's time to give back what you borrowed."

The god of war's brows knit.

"What do you—?"

But his words slurred. His knees buckled.

His vision blurred.

"Wait—what… did you…?"

His legs collapsed beneath him, and Arkenas caught him gently, whispering like a lullaby,

"Sleep."

The last thing the god of war saw before darkness swallowed him was Arkenas' smile—far too pleased, far too hungry.

His consciousness faded.

Lucia watched the scene in silence, her lips tight. When the body was suspended midair, encased in a crystalline shell that hovered near Arkenas' throne, she finally spoke.

"You're going to extract the souls of the gods he absorbed. And use them to forge new ones."

She said.

Arkenas turned to her with a radiant smile.

"You always were the clever one."

Lucia's eyes narrowed.

"That wasn't the agreement. The gods were to be replaced naturally—reborn into the cycle and elevated when worthy."

Arkenas' gaze darkened.

"That method failed. Time and again, we trusted the cycle, and it birthed nothing but disobedience. Rebellion. Cowards who turned their backs on our design."

Lucia folded her arms.

"Perhaps because your design was flawed."

The Chief God's presence flared with divine pressure, and for a moment, Lucia felt as if gravity itself had turned against her.

He stepped toward her slowly.

"I said… do not question me."

She held her ground.

"You are not like the others. You've been loyal, Lucia. That's why I kept you. That's why you're still here. Do not waste that privilege."

Arkenas said, calmer now, almost fond.

Lucia's jaw clenched, but she bowed her head.

"As you command."

Arkenas turned away, gesturing with a hand, and the floating crystal shell glowed brighter.

Energy began to pulse through the chamber—divine energy, ancient and chaotic, the echoes of long-dead gods stirring within the war god's sleeping form.

The Chief God raised both arms.

"A new age is upon us. No longer will gods be born from chance. No longer will chaos decide who ascends. From now on, we shape them. We mold them. We forge them like weapons in fire."

Cracks of divine lightning surged across the floor, forming glowing patterns that stretched to the walls.

Lucia watched silently as the chamber filled with rows of empty vessels—blank slates of divine flesh, prepared to receive the essences Arkenas was extracting.

Each one pulsed faintly, waiting for life to be breathed into them.

"These will be gods worthy of the throne. Obedient. Controlled. Perfect."

Arkenas whispered.

Lucia did not speak.

But in her heart, something felt wrong.

As the extraction ritual began in full, and the war god's body pulsed with stolen divinity, she closed her eyes for a moment.

In the stillness, she remembered Kyle's face—calm, resolved, unshaken.

A mortal who had defied fate itself.

And for the first time in a long while, Goddess Lucia wasn't sure if Arkenas truly had everything under control.

Lucia walked in silence, her steps echoing through the crystalline corridors of the gods' realm. The grandeur around her—glowing walls, floating sigils, radiant mist—felt hollow.

Each step felt heavier, as if her body no longer fully belonged to her. Arkenas' presence still clung to her skin like chains.

But finally, as she reached the secluded quarters assigned to her, something shifted.

The oppressive pressure receded.

Lucia gasped and clutched her chest. The invisible strings that held her upright loosened, allowing her to breathe as herself—for the first time in what felt like eternity.

The Chief God's control had weakened, if only slightly.

"This isn't right…Kyle… I need to warn him…"

She whispered, gripping the wall for support.

She reached for the desk, struggling to summon a projection, a message—anything that could reach him.

The ritual, the new gods, the war god's fate—it was all building toward something terrible. Kyle needed to know.

But just as her mana stirred, a numbness crept into her limbs. Her vision blurred.

"No…"

She stumbled toward the bed, trying to resist the sudden exhaustion overtaking her. Her mana fizzled like dying embers.

"This… this isn't sleep…"

Her thoughts slowed, tangled in fog.

She tried to fight it—to hold on, to stay awake long enough to do something, anything.

But her body collapsed onto the bed, and her eyes shut before she could open a gate.

No dreams greeted her. No visions. No messages from beyond.

Only an empty, hollow dark.

Lucia had fallen into a sleep not of her own choosing—and this time, she could not wake.