Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 161: Ch : Selling the Stone - Part 1

Chapter 161: Ch 161: Selling the Stone – Part 1

Night fell over the village like a shroud, cloaking every corner in a deep, oppressive silence. But Kyle was wide awake.

Through the bond he shared with Queen, he felt the disturbance long before any normal person would have noticed it.

Queen, perched far above in the skies, scanned the land below with unblinking vigilance.

The moment even the faintest of movement turned toward Kyle’s room, it relayed the signals to him.

A dozen people—no, more—were approaching. Silent, careful, but not careful enough.

Kyle smirked from where he sat in his room, eyes closed in mock rest.

He moved.

Using his precise control over mana, Kyle etched a complex web of runes into the very walls and floor of the room—silent, invisible to the naked eye, but deadly.

The trap wasn’t designed to kill, not yet.

It was meant to immobilize. Humiliate. Strip away any sense of stealth his enemies might rely on.

As the first intruders slipped through his door, Kyle didn’t even glance their way.

One by one, they crossed the threshold, and the trap activated.

The mana flared beneath them and locked their limbs in place, sealing them in mid-motion, some crouched, some mid-step—every one of them paralyzed.

The panic that rippled through the group was satisfying.

Kyle opened his eyes, his voice calm.

“Did no one teach you that stealing from nobles carries consequences?”

Panic turned to muffled screams. He stepped forward, tapping the floor lightly, and the trap deepened, tightening around their mana flow and forcing several of them unconscious.

Once Kyle confirmed that no more presences lingered nearby, he sealed the room completely.

With a flick of his hand, the door shimmered and vanished—replaced by a barrier only he could control.

That was phase one.

Now came the second part.

If any stragglers remained—ones cautious enough to hold back earlier—then he needed to draw them out.

Kyle stepped outside into the chilled night air, cloaked only in a simple overcoat and a small pouch slung at his side, deliberately mimicking the look of someone carrying something valuable.

The bait was irresistible.

He walked slowly, taking the path near the back alleys between inns, where torchlight barely reached. He didn’t look back, but he didn’t have to.

He felt them.

Shadows shifting behind him. Footsteps—barely audible, but still there. Breaths held. Weapons drawn.

He kept walking.

Then—killing intent.

They struck.

Three at once, their blades flashing in the moonlight. Kyle twisted to the side, his footwork effortless, and dodged the first strike.

The second he blocked with a burst of mana at his side, forming a momentary shield. The third he allowed to glance off his shoulder, letting the attacker think he had succeeded.

That illusion didn’t last.

The moment they thought he was vulnerable, they lunged again—this time revealing themselves fully.

And that was when Kyle struck.

His sword left its sheath in a single, fluid motion.

The first attacker collapsed with a hole in his chest.

The second tried to retreat, but Kyle’s blade caught his leg, and Queen, from above, dropped a small mana-imbued shard that exploded into light and flame around him.

The third never had time to scream.

From the shadows, Kyle’s elite force surged into motion.

Silent, deadly, efficient. They struck without hesitation, cutting down the stragglers who had followed Kyle with murderous intent. There were no questions, no mercy.

By the time the battle ended, more than two dozen bodies littered the outskirts of the village—those who had dared to challenge Kyle’s claim.

He stood at the center of it all, his blade faintly glowing with residual mana.

But by morning, it was as if nothing had ever happened.

Every corpse, every bloodstain, every broken weapon had been erased from existence. Kyle’s cleanup team, already instructed beforehand, moved under the veil of night.

They worked swiftly, covering tracks, disposing of remains, and repairing the signs of battle before the sun ever touched the village.

When dawn broke, the village was clean. Calm.

Visitors poured in with no knowledge of what had happened just hours ago.

The inns bustled. Merchants arranged their goods. Nobles sent their attendants to confirm auction arrangements.

And Kyle?

He was already seated at the edge of the auction platform, calm and composed, sipping tea like nothing had happened.

Only Bruce, standing at his side, exchanged a brief glance with him.

“Everything has been dealt with.”

Bruce said quietly.

Kyle gave a nod.

“Good. Then let’s begin the final preparations.”

From far above, Queen circled silently, its golden eyes watching everything.

And beneath that unblinking gaze, the village held its breath—unaware of how close it had come to spilling blood into daylight.

As dawn cast a warm glow over the village, the visiting nobles and merchants emerged from their inns and rented homes, excitement in their eyes and greed in their hearts.

Word had spread of the previous night’s secret efforts—many had spent small fortunes hiring mercenaries and assassins to seize the mana stone Kyle had acquired.

By now, they expected chaos. Blood in the streets. At the very least, signs that Kyle had been shaken or weakened.

But when they arrived at the auction grounds, their expressions soured.

Kyle was already there, seated calmly on a raised platform with a cup of hot tea in hand.

He looked pristine, not a hair out of place, his attire sharp and his eyes calm.

At his side stood Bruce, ever silent, ever watchful. Behind him, Queen circled in the distant sky, its golden wings casting a faint shimmer in the sunlight.

The tension grew as more visitors filtered in, many of them expecting to witness Kyle’s downfall.

Instead, they found nothing had changed.

No dead bodies. No missing guards. No signs of attack. The village streets were clean, peaceful, and abuzz only with auction preparations.

A few of the bolder nobles stepped forward, forcing smiles onto their faces.

“Young Master Kyle, you’re up rather early. I trust your night was… restful?”

One of them said.

Kyle met the man’s eyes and gave him a polite smile.

“Uneventful. Nothing happened.”

he replied, sipping his tea.

The words struck harder than any threat could.

A heavy silence fell on the group, their smirks fading.

They all understood the meaning behind those words.

Kyle knew.

He knew about the mercenaries. About the assassins. About every plot whispered in the dark. And yet, here he sat—completely untouched. Alive. Calm. In control.

The implied warning was clear

‘Try again, and you’ll vanish just like the others.’

One by one, those who had dared to scheme against him looked away.

Their faces paled, and some quietly stepped to the side, pretending they had nothing to do with anything.

A few more, anxious to change the subject, spoke up.

“Well then, shall we begin the auction, Young Master Kyle? Everyone’s eager to see the mana stone you’ve worked so hard to secure.”

A merchant cleared his throat.

Kyle let the silence stretch for a moment longer, letting their unease settle in full, before finally nodding.

“Very well. Let the auction begin.”

He said. He stood slowly, the morning breeze catching his coat as he stepped to the center of the platform.

From far above, Queen let out a single shrill cry.

The visitors looked up at it, uneasy.

And deep down, they all came to the same conclusion

‘If last night was uneventful, then Kyle Armstrong must be far more terrifying than they thought.’