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

The Grand Priest descended the pristine marble stairs of the Holy Temple, his expression calm and beatific.

As he passed through the gilded halls, lower-ranking clergy and temple servants bowed their heads and greeted him with reverence.

He returned each gesture with a soft smile, his voice kind and encouraging.

"Blessings be upon you. May the Goddess's light guide you always."

He murmured, his hands clasped lightly at his chest.

To all eyes, he was the very image of a benevolent leader—compassionate, wise, unshaken.

But the deeper he walked beneath the temple, the thinner that mask grew.

By the time he reached the cold, narrow staircase leading down to the basement, his smile had faded completely.

His expression hardened into something colder, calculating.

He unlocked the heavy iron door at the end of the stairwell and stepped into a dimly lit room, where the stone walls were lined with faintly glowing runes.

A soft, eerie hum filled the air—resonating with divine energy.

Inside, another priest sat at a long wooden table. He was robed in dull grey, unlike the white and gold worn above.

His attention was fixed on a small child standing in the center of the room. The girl couldn't have been older than seven.

She had short brown hair, large eyes, and a hopeful look that clashed with the grim atmosphere of the chamber.

As soon as she saw the Grand Priest enter, her eyes lit up.

"Grand Priest! Did I do good? Am I helping you now?"

She chirped happily, as if seeing a beloved relative.

The Grand Priest's face softened once again, though this time it was a curated smile—devoid of warmth.

"Yes. You're helping more than you know. Thanks to you, many people will live better lives. You're doing a beautiful thing."

He said gently, walking toward her.

That was all the orphan girl needed to hear. Her smile widened in innocent pride.

Then the divine mana struck her.

The runes on the floor flared to life, and a pulse of shimmering white energy enveloped the child.

She gasped, but her voice quickly dissolved into static, swallowed by the overpowering hum.

Her eyes rolled back.

Her hair lost all color, bleaching into stark white. Her skin followed. Even her irises faded into glowing hollowness, empty of self.

The divine mana did not just change her—it devoured her.

She trembled violently, trying to move her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Her limbs jerked unnaturally, then froze in place.

And then she stood still—completely motionless.

The other priest sighed, setting down his quill.

"That's the last one. We've exhausted the remaining divine mana. We can't prepare any more Saintesses until the Day of Sacred Renewal. The divine well must refill."

He muttered, rubbing his temples.

The Grand Priest's jaw clenched, and his smile vanished once again.

"Three Saintesses lost. Three, in just a matter of weeks. And we've only managed to create two in that same time."

He muttered bitterly.

He looked at the newest puppet, the white-haired child staring blankly at the wall, no longer recognizing herself.

"I had hoped we'd gain ground more quickly. This is not acceptable."

The priest looked wary.

"Should we consider drawing from the reserves? We could—"

"No. We need the reserves intact. If our enemies move more aggressively, we'll need every ounce of divine force."

The Grand Priest snapped. Then, in a quieter voice, he added.

He began pacing, his hands behind his back.

"Our neighbors grow bold. Some among them have already begun to resist the Goddess's truth. We must reclaim what is ours—but not recklessly. Not without tools."

The seated priest nodded solemnly.

"Then we'll wait. The Sacred Ritual will renew the divine spring in three weeks' time. We'll have mana then. Enough for at least five conversions."

"Good."

The Grand Priest stopped in front of the child, lowering himself to her level.

He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll serve well. Just as all the chosen do. The Goddess will guide your steps now."

He murmured, voice like silk.

The girl did not respond. Her expression was vacant, her will erased.

Only the hum of the divine runes filled the silence.

As the Grand Priest turned away, he exhaled with slow restraint.

"Let the world celebrate its false freedom. We'll remind them soon enough—what it means to defy the divine."

He said quietly.

______

The next morning, the training grounds buzzed with a heavy silence.

Dozens of soldiers stood in formation, eyes sharp but uncertain, as Kyle walked toward them.

The ground was damp with morning dew, and the air thrummed with tension.

Grand Duchess Amanda stood beside her elite guards, her posture as poised as ever, but even her expression was grim.

Kyle surveyed the faces before him—his own troops and Amanda's finest. All of them were loyal, brave, and capable. But what he was about to ask of them went far beyond courage.

"This will be the hardest thing you've ever done."

Kyle said, his voice calm but firm.

His gaze swept across the crowd.

"If you fail, you will die. No battle, no blade—just your own mana tearing you apart from within."

A few gasps rippled through the ranks, but no one interrupted.

"Which is why, I'm giving you one chance. You can step away now, and I won't think less of you. Go back to your families. Live."

Kyle continued.

A long silence followed.

Then, slowly, a few soldiers did step back—older men with children, younger ones with uncertain eyes. No one judged them. No one dared.

The rest remained. Eyes forward. Spines straight.

Even Amanda's guards did not flinch. The Duchess gave Kyle a faint nod, silent but resolute.

Kyle smiled, faint and approving.

"Good. Then let's begin."

He opened his system interface in his mind, feeling its familiar pulse.

All this time, the system had quietly absorbed passive mana from the environment. Every breath, every step he took drew in that ambient energy—enough to make an untrained body rupture if it tried to handle it all at once.

And now, he would use it.

"Your bodies are ready. You've been breathing mana. Living with it. Letting it grow inside you. Now, we'll detonate that power."

Kyle said aloud, his voice echoing across the field.

The soldiers tensed, eyes widening.

"You won't grow stronger through training or drills today. You'll fight your own weakness from the inside. Either you conquer your mana—or it consumes you."

He raised his hand. Mana burst from his core like wildfire.

A pulse of energy exploded outward, and one by one, soldiers collapsed to the ground, their bodies twitching, faces contorted in silent struggle.

Amanda's guards dropped next, eyes rolling back as the internal storm of mana overtook them.

It wasn't pain alone—it was transformation. Madness and clarity. Power and death.

Kyle exhaled deeply and looked up at the sky.

"Good luck."

He whispered.

Then his own knees gave out, and his vision faded.

The last thing he heard was the familiar chime of the system in his mind.

[System Update Initiated. Synchronizing Mana Core…]