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

The spring shimmered before them, a vast pool glowing with a brilliance so pure that even the air seemed to tremble under its weight.

Mist drifted upward in soft waves, each droplet infused with divine power so dense it pressed against their skin, like an invisible hand testing their resolve.

The chamber was silent but for the low hum of the spring, a living resonance that echoed in their bones.

None of them moved.

Even Grand Duchess Amana, who had stood steadfast in countless battles, lingered at the edge with narrowed eyes, as though measuring the weight of the choice before them.

Silvy clasped her hands together, caught between reverence and fear. Bruce crossed his arms, his steady composure cracked by the uncertainty in his gaze.

And Melissa, though she stood close to Kyle, clenched her fists tightly, her breath uneven.

Kyle's eyes scanned the spring, unblinking.

Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward. His boots echoed against the smooth stone floor, each step carrying the quiet certainty of someone who had already resolved himself.

When he reached the water's edge, he slipped a few glass bottles from his cloak.

Bruce's brow furrowed.

"Young master… what are you doing?"

Kyle crouched down, dipping one of the bottles into the spring. The divine water flowed into it with a soft glow, the glass trembling faintly as though it struggled to contain such purity.

"This water isn't only for us. There are others who couldn't come here, others who deserve this chance. I'll bring it to them myself."

Kyle answered calmly.

He corked the first bottle and filled another, his movements precise and unhurried.

The others exchanged glances.

The weight of his words wasn't lost on them—Kyle wasn't just thinking of their group, but of a future that extended far beyond this moment.

After filling several bottles, Kyle stood and faced them.

"But that's for later. For now, all of you need to bathe in this spring. Submerge yourselves. Let it cleanse you."

No one moved. The divine energy pouring from the spring was suffocating, demanding submission, and every instinct screamed at them to stay away.

Melissa bit her lip, her eyes darting between Kyle and the spring. Finally, she took a step forward.

"If young master says it's safe… then I'll go first."

Her voice carried no hesitation this time. She walked into the water, the surface rippling around her ankles, then her waist, then her shoulders.

With one final breath, she dipped beneath the surface. The spring responded instantly, the glow around her intensifying as though it recognized her.

For a long moment, she was swallowed whole.

When she rose again, her expression was one of awe. Her chains—the ones she had carried silently in her heart—felt lighter, almost gone.

The divine power clung to her, but instead of weighing her down, it lifted her, purifying the shadows she hadn't even realized were still inside.

Seeing Melissa emerge unharmed, the others found their courage.

Bruce strode forward next, muttering.

"If she can face it, then so can I."

He ducked his head beneath the water, and when he surfaced, his broad shoulders gleamed with faint light, his usually stern face softened by a rare look of reverence.

Silvy followed, hesitant but determined, pressing her hands together before submerging herself.

She shivered as she emerged, but her eyes were brighter, as if a fog had finally lifted from her soul.

Amana was last, moving with regal grace into the spring.

The moment she lowered herself, the glow around her surged with intensity, as though the water itself acknowledged her will.

When she surfaced, the chamber seemed to hold its breath, the noble's aura sharpened, refined by the spring's touch.

Finally, Kyle himself waded in.

Unlike the others, the spring pulsed violently around him, waves of divine light rising higher with every step.

When he submerged, the glow dimmed, as though the spring itself struggled to contain him.

But when he resurfaced, the water stilled. His expression was calm, unreadable, but the power radiating from him was undeniable.

As they climbed from the spring, droplets of divine light clinging to their skin, something shifted.

On the back of each of their hands, faint patterns began to glow.

Slowly, they sharpened into distinct crests, each one different—symbols that seemed to pulse with individuality yet carried the same divine weight.

Amana raised her hand, frowning at the crest etched into her skin.

"What… is this?"

Kyle glanced at each of their hands, his expression thoughtful.

"It's your qualification. The mark of one who can hold a seat in the divine council of gods."

He said simply.

His words left the chamber silent. Silvy stared at her crest as though it were too heavy for her to bear, her lips parted but no words coming.

Bruce flexed his fingers, testing the glow, while Melissa traced hers with trembling hands, almost afraid it would disappear.

"The council of gods…? That is what this spring prepares us for?"

Amana's voice was quiet, but steady.

Kyle nodded.

"This was the last step. The trials tested your hearts. This spring purified your souls. With these crests, you've been acknowledged. You can now stand in the divine realm as more than mortals."

Silvy finally found her voice, though it shook.

"But why us? We didn't seek to be gods."

Kyle's gaze lingered on her for a moment before sweeping over the group.

"Because you were chosen by circumstance, by resolve, by me. The divine throne is collapsing, and it needs those who won't falter. Whether you wanted it or not, you've earned it."

A heavy silence fell, the weight of his words sinking deep.

Yet beneath that heaviness, there was also a spark—an unspoken understanding that their journey had carried them here for a reason greater than themselves.

Kyle turned toward the chamber's exit, his cloak shifting with his movement.

"Our last preparation is finished. It's time. The divine realm awaits."

He said, his tone decisive.

Melissa tightened her grip over her crest, her heart pounding. Bruce squared his shoulders, already readying himself for what lay ahead.

Silvy drew a steadying breath, and Amana's eyes narrowed with quiet resolve.

And Kyle, walking at the front, bore the weight of it all without hesitation, each step carrying them closer to the realm where gods sat in judgement—and where their fate, and his, would be decided.

Chief God Arkenas leaned back upon his throne, his fingers tapping the golden armrest with growing irritation.

The system of divine selection floated before him, its intricate lattice of light and runes pulsating with power far beyond what even he had intended.

Each line of energy twisted and turned, selecting mortals and weaving fate without pausing to acknowledge him.

For a long time, Arkenas had believed himself the master of this structure—he had built it, after all, layered it with his own mana, infused it with the rules that would ensure his supremacy.

Yet now, as the symbols of chosen mortals lit up one by one, he realized the system no longer responded to his commands.

Every attempt to override it was repelled, as though the divine power itself had grown a will, no longer bound to his intentions.

He scowled, his aura rippling like a storm across the god's realm.

This was not how it was meant to unfold. He was supposed to control every outcome, every ascension, every soul chosen for godhood.

But instead, the system worked as if testing him—choosing mortals he had not approved, granting them authority without his sanction.

For the first time in an age, Arkenas felt the faintest chill of unease.