Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 138: Ch : Changing Tides - Part 2

He explained the mechanisms of the cursed barrier, the ruined seals, and how the monsters had been drawn in by the unstable mana.

He spoke of how he broke the seals manually and dismantled the corrupted array, ultimately shattering the ritual from within.

The Duke listened in silence, fingers steepled beneath his chin. His face remained unreadable, unmoved even when Kyle spoke of his encounter with Tirakos.

"You faced a god alone and you claim to have won."

The Duke finally said, more a statement than a question.

Kyle set his cup down with a soft clink.

"I wouldn't call it a victory. Tirakos's physical form failed before the fight truly began. I merely survived what was left of it. But I'm confident I'll win when we meet again."

He replied calmly.

There was no arrogance in his tone—only certainty, cool and composed.

The Duke's expression didn't change, but the air in the room shifted slightly, like a silent note being struck between them.

"A good job. Though you were late returning. Points will be deducted."

The Duke said after a beat.

Kyle didn't argue. He simply nodded, accepting the judgment without complaint.

"Anything else to report?"

The Duke asked.

Kyle paused.

He thought about mentioning Margrave Ricca—the incident with the herb master, the curse, the monsters, the foreign mana.

But something told him not to.

The Duke's eyes were just a little too sharp, his tone just a little too expectant. It wasn't a real inquiry—it was another test.

Kyle met his father's gaze and replied smoothly.

"No. That is all."

For the first time in the meeting, a flicker of something—perhaps surprise—flashed across the Duke's face.

He didn't press.

"Very well. You've passed my trial. "As promised, your reward: a piece of land south of the main estate. You may claim it as your own."

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the Duke said finally, rising to his feet.

Kyle stood and bowed his head in thanks.

"I appreciate the gift."

Without another word, Kyle turned and exited the office, leaving behind only the soft click of the closing door.

Once alone, the Duke returned to his desk.

From one of the bottom drawers, he pulled out a thick envelope and slid out a document—a map of land tucked far south, on the very edge of the Armstrong territory.

To most, it would look worthless. Barren soil, broken terrain, and no visible resources.

But the Duke knew better.

Hidden beneath its cracked surface were veins of rare minerals and natural mana springs, dormant but potent.

The land would not give up its secrets easily. It was a place that required vision, patience, and strength.

The Duke studied the map for a moment longer before folding it and sealing it with Kyle's name.

"A new challenge. Let's see what you make of this, my son."

He murmured to himself, placing the envelope aside.

______

The next morning, the atmosphere in the estate's grand dining hall was anything but quiet.

Even before Kyle entered, whispers fluttered through the air like buzzing insects.

Heads turned, conversations hushed for a moment, and then resumed in full force—only louder this time, voices thick with speculation and disbelief.

"That's him, right? The Duke's useless son?"

"No way he's useless if he saved an entire village!"

"They say he fought a god—can you believe that? A god!"

"I heard the ruins themselves exploded and he walked out alive!"

Though the actual details of what had happened were still shrouded in mystery, the story had grown wild with each retelling.

Kyle, once dismissed and ridiculed by most of the Duchy, was suddenly at the center of every conversation.

When Bruce and Melissa stepped into the dining hall, they didn't go unnoticed either.

For the first time in a long while, people moved aside respectfully for them.

Guards and attendants nodded their greetings, and nobles offered faint but polite smiles.

Bruce stood taller than usual, his chest puffed out with pride. Melissa had a rare, satisfied gleam in her eyes as they made their way toward their seats beside Kyle.

A group of guards approached them before they could sit.

"Is it true? About the village and the monsters? What really happened? When did Young Master Kyle change?"

One asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, then crossed his arms.

"Change? Who said he changed? He's always been like this. You were just too blind to see it."

He scoffed.

Melissa nodded in agreement, coolly sipping her tea.

"Our young master's been extraordinary from the start. The rest of you just didn't bother looking past the surface."

The guards fell silent, embarrassed by the truth in their words. Bruce and Melissa didn't indulge them further.

After breakfast, they excused themselves and headed out to their usual private training grounds for a spar.

But what they found there left Bruce stunned.

An entire group of armored soldiers were lined up, shoulder to shoulder, weapons in hand and eager expressions on their faces.

The moment they saw Bruce, they stepped forward, speaking all at once.

"We heard about what happened!"

"You're the commander of Young Master Kyle's elite guard, right?"

"We want to join his side too—how do we sign up?!"

Bruce blinked.

"What…?"

One soldier stepped forward, voice bold.

"Is there recruitment happening? We'll do whatever it takes to join."

Bruce raised both hands and tried to calm the commotion.

"There's no recruiting going on. Everyone, go back to your posts. This isn't some military fair."

He said firmly.

His words had the opposite effect.

A murmur swept through the soldiers, followed by narrowed eyes and pointed looks.

"I get it. He's scared."

Someone said from the back.

Another nodded.

"Yeah, he knows we're more qualified to stand beside the young master. He's trying to keep his position safe."

Bruce's face twitched.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me! You're afraid you'll be replaced!"

The soldier snapped.

Fury danced in Bruce's eyes, and his hand inched toward the hilt of his blade—but before he could explode, a hand touched his shoulder.

Melissa stepped forward with a calm, icy look on her face.

"That's enough, Bruce."

She turned to the crowd.

"If you want to prove yourselves, I'll give you a chance. One-on-one. If any of you can defeat me, you'll be allowed to stand beside our young master."

The mood shifted instantly.

The guards cheered, readying themselves with confidence. But they didn't know what they were stepping into.

The first challenger lunged, only to be brought down in seconds by Melissa's swift, brutal counter.

The next lasted a bit longer—ten seconds, maybe—before crumpling to the ground from a single strike.

One after another, they fell.

Some barely touched their weapons. Others didn't land a single hit.

And Melissa remained unshaken, not even winded, as she dispatched them all with practiced grace.

By the end, the training ground was littered with groaning soldiers and wide-eyed spectators.

Bruce, who had long since cooled off, crossed his arms with a smug grin.

"Still think you can replace us?"

No one dared answer.

Melissa brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and turned back toward Bruce.

"That should keep them quiet for a while."

And just like that, the hierarchy reestablished itself—and the legend of the young master's shadow guards grew a little bit more.