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

Lucia entered the divine hall with unhurried grace, her footsteps echoing across the celestial marble.

Pillars of starlight spiraled toward the high domed ceiling, and each god present radiated with divinity—an orchestra of power, tension, and judgment.

The entire divine council had gathered, all seated on their respective thrones of domain, yet it was clear from the silence that she was the last to arrive.

Her eyes scanned the room briefly. There was suspicion in the air. Resentment. And something else—urgency.

She didn't like it.

"Quite the welcoming party. I see I was summoned last. How deliberate."

Lucia said, voice smooth like silk and barbed with scorn.

The Supreme God, seated at the farthest throne cloaked in golden illumination, exhaled slowly. His divine form pulsed with restrained authority.

"Lucia. We require your gift."

He said at last, calm and measured.

Lucia tilted her head slightly.

"My gift?"

Her voice was casual, but her eyes sharpened.

"I remember being called a traitor not long ago. Now suddenly I'm needed?"

Some of the gods shifted uncomfortably, while others scowled openly.

"We have lost a piece of divine balance. One of our own is gone."

The Supreme God said without elaboration.

Lucia's brows twitched slightly.

"Gone?"

She echoed.

"You mean dead?"

There was a pause.

"We need someone to prevent further collapse. Someone with a particular understanding of… divine boundaries. You, Lucia, possess what none of us do anymore."

The Supreme God continued, ignoring her question.

"My independence?"

She asked with a smirk.

"Your clarity."

He answered, tone crisp.

Lucia laughed softly, the sound echoing coldly in the divine chamber.

"You mean my disobedience. My refusal to bow and play savior or tyrant. And now, after shunning me, you dare to ask for help?"

"You are still one of us."

The Supreme God said.

"I stopped being one of you when you allowed mortals to be crushed under your wars. When you let your arrogance rewrite the purpose of divinity."

Lucia replied flatly.

"Enough. We did not call you here to listen to your sermons!"

Snapped the God of Judgment.

But the Supreme God held up a hand to silence them. His tone dropped, softer now.

"Lucia, you see the threads of fate better than any god here. You know the realm is shifting. Mortals are restless. Their prayers thin. Their loyalty… wanes."

Lucia folded her arms.

"Because you treated them like tools."

The Supreme God leaned forward.

"Then help us fix it."

Lucia's smile faltered.

"So that you may retain power?"

"So that we survive. We are not requesting that you fight. Only that you intervene—calm the tides of change. Quiet the unrest."

He said evenly.

"And if I refuse?"

The chamber tensed.

"You won't. Because whether you believe it or not, you still care. You still mourn what has been lost."

The Supreme God said.

Lucia's throat tightened. She hated that he was right—hated more that he knew it.

He continued gently.

"No one will replace her… yet. We are prepared to wait. To give her absence time to settle. But only if you cooperate."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You're using her name to bind me again."

"Her sacrifice must not be in vain."

The Supreme God said carefully, avoiding the word death.

Lucia turned away, hiding the emotions twisting in her chest. Her fingernails dug into her arm.

"You're all still the same. Manipulative cowards hiding behind grand titles and celestial thrones."

"And yet, here you are."

The God of Chains murmured.

Lucia spun around, her aura pulsing, but she calmed herself quickly.

After a long pause, she finally spoke.

"Fine. I'll help. Just once."

A ripple of surprise moved through the gods.

Lucia continued.

"But listen well: I am not your weapon. I won't be used again. Whatever task you want me to do, I'll do it my way."

The Supreme God gave a slow nod.

"That is all we ask."

Lucia turned to leave, but as she stepped away, her voice rang out once more—quiet and resolute.

"One favor. One act. That's all you get."

And with that, she vanished from the divine council—her presence gone like falling petals in wind. Behind her, the gods remained still. Satisfied. For now.

None of them told her the full truth.

None of them mentioned the mortal who had brought their world trembling.

And none of them warned her…

…that she would be hunting Kyle Armstrong.

As Lucia vanished beyond the shimmer of divine mist, a tense silence hung over the council hall.

The God of Judgment, clad in obsidian robes that crackled with divine law, leaned forward, voice low but firm.

"I don't trust her. Lucia has never truly returned to our side. Her presence feels like a sword dangling above us all."

He said.

The Supreme God's expression remained unreadable, his golden eyes reflecting the wavering lights of the chamber.

"That is because you still see her as a liability. But I see her as what she is—a goddess. And like all of us, she is bound to the divine will."

He replied.

"She's resisted it before. She could do it again."

Judgment snapped.

"Even if she does resist, she cannot escape her nature. No matter how far she runs, no matter how many humans she chooses to protect… in the end, divine power will call her home."

The Supreme God said coolly.

He rose from his throne, towering above the gathered gods.

"Lucia may waver. She may even rebel. But in the grand tapestry of fate, all threads return to the loom. If we play our parts well, no sacrifice will be in vain."

The gods bowed their heads, unease still simmering behind the divine calm.

As the grand gates of the royal capital opened, the sound of horns echoed across the streets.

Trumpets blared from every tower and balcony, announcing the return of the victorious army. Streamers flew.

Flowers rained down. Cheers rose in waves, crashing louder than any war cry the soldiers had ever heard.

Kyle rode at the head of the formation, his armor battered but gleaming under the afternoon sun.

His cape, torn at the edges, fluttered in the wind like a banner of survival. Behind him marched soldiers who had stared down divinity—and lived.

People swarmed the streets. Women wept. Children held up hand-painted signs. Old men bowed low. All of them chanted his name: not just as a hero, but as something more. A symbol.

Melissa blinked at the overwhelming joy around them, struggling to match the cheer outside with the turmoil still echoing inside her chest.

"This… doesn't feel real."

She murmured to Bruce, who rode beside her.

Bruce gave a soft grunt of agreement.

"It's strange. After everything… the killing, the screaming, the despair—this peace almost feels foreign."

She nodded.

"It's too clean."

Bruce adjusted the straps of his shoulder guard, then looked ahead.

"Still, it's better than silence. Let them celebrate while they can. It'll steady them for the next storm."

The soldiers kept formation, but many couldn't help smiling or waving back. Some wept quietly, overwhelmed by the reception. It had been so long since any of them had felt welcome, wanted, alive.

And at the center of it all was Kyle.

He said nothing. His eyes were calm, scanning the crowd, memorizing faces—not in joy, but in caution.

He saw the hope on their faces. The desperate belief. To them, his victory over a goddess meant the impossible could be achieved. It meant the gods could bleed.

But Kyle knew better than anyone—this was not the end.

This was only the beginning.

Behind the crowds, hidden behind closed shutters and deeper shadows, not all eyes were friendly. Whispers traveled fast in a capital like this.

News of Goddess Charrin's fall had spread across like wildfire. Some temples had already closed their gates.

Others had sent word to the divine realm, seeking guidance. And some… were already preparing to strike back.

But for now, the capital rejoiced.

And in that fragile celebration, for one moment, peace truly reigned.