Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 202: Ch : My Master Can- Part 2

The temple's interior was a crumbling shell of its former glory. Cracked stone pillars loomed like broken teeth, and faded murals of long-forgotten deities peeled off the walls like dead skin.

The air was thick with dust and something far worse—corrupted divine energy. The once-holy ground was no longer sacred.

The only thing keeping the structure from falling into ruin were the etched ruins carved into its bones, glowing with unstable mana.

Kyle's boots echoed softly as he stepped into the space, his movements calculated and precise.

He could feel the misaligned flow of divine and arcane forces—the result of time, neglect, and poor ruin maintenance.

This place wasn't just abandoned; it had been left to rot.

Kyle reached out, spreading his mana thin like a web, sensing the layered traps and mana disruptions scattered across the floor.

A shallow smirk crossed his face.

"Sloppy work. All bark, no bite."

He murmured.

With precise shifts in his aura, he bypassed one trap after another, never so much as disturbing the dust on the floor.

Step by step, he moved deeper into the ruinous temple, until the mana thickened around him like fog—he was close.

Racheal followed from a short distance behind, her expression a mix of awe and disbelief.

Her sandals scuffed softly against the stone as she tried to mimic his path but struggled to keep up.

"How are you even walking like that? Those traps—my master changes them every week."

She whispered, watching the floor where Kyle's foot had landed moments before.

"Then she should try harder."

Kyle muttered without turning.

Racheal looked around nervously.

"Just… be careful. I don't know what she's rigged up recently. If she knew someone was coming—"

"We're already here."

Kyle cut in flatly. His hand was resting on a moss-covered door ahead. "And I have no intention of playing by her rules."

Before Racheal could react, Kyle pushed the door open.

The room beyond was quiet, deceptively so.

A circular chamber lined with relics and shattered statues sat like a heart surrounded by rotting veins.

Faint lines of ancient mana pulsated through the stone floor, leading toward a raised platform at the center.

Racheal, seeing that Kyle had already entered, rushed forward.

"Wait—!"

She began.

Kyle turned sharply, one hand snapping out to grab her by the back of her collar before she could cross the threshold.

He pulled her to a stop with no effort, and her feet skidded slightly on the slick stone floor.

"Don't charge in like a fool. Unless you've decided you're tired of living."

He said coldly.

Racheal blinked in confusion, caught between frustration and embarrassment.

"What do you mean? I don't see—"

Kyle didn't answer with words. Instead, he pulled a coin from his coat pocket—small, nondescript.

But when his fingers wrapped around it, a layer of mana began to coat its surface, curling around it like mist.

With a flick of his wrist, Kyle sent the coin flying into the room.

The moment it crossed the threshold, the air around it twisted—and then the world split open with a thunderous boom.

The explosion shattered the silence, sending out a shockwave that blasted through the chamber.

Dust, stone, and magical debris flew outward like shrapnel.

Where the coin had landed was now a scorched crater, the ornate floor melted down to raw, cracked stone.

Whatever trap had been lying in wait was powerful enough to obliterate everything in its path.

Racheal's eyes widened in horror.

"That—That was her special seal... She said only she could walk through it without dying."

Her voice trembled.

Kyle stared at the destruction, unimpressed.

"Then she overestimated herself."

He turned to her, expression calm and unwavering.

"If you'd walked in first, you would've died. She doesn't care if someone steps into a trap just to prove a point. She only cares if they survive it."

Racheal shivered.

"She's not evil… just… twisted."

Kyle didn't comment. He adjusted his coat and stepped into the smoking chamber, debris crunching under his boots.

"Let's move. Your master's games are growing tiresome."

______

The smoke and residual mana gradually settled as Kyle and Racheal stepped through the shattered threshold into the central chamber.

Even with the worst of the divine seal dispersed, the atmosphere remained heavy—thick with warped holy energy and erratic runes buzzing on the walls like flies. fгeewebnovёl.com

Kyle's sharp eyes instantly locked on to the heart of the room—a powerful, stationary mana signature curled up like a coiled serpent at the center of the wreckage.

It pulsed faintly, but it was undeniable in its density. That was no trap.

Racheal's breath hitched beside him.

"Master!"

She cried out, her voice echoing across the chamber.

Before Kyle could stop her, she ran toward the collapsed figure in the center of the mana signature.

His instincts screamed at him to intercept, to halt her reckless charge, but before he could move, the figure on the floor stirred.

A single hand rose from beneath a mess of tangled robes and long, uncombed hair, palm facing outward.

Kyle's body tensed. His mana surged in anticipation. If this woman tried to attack, he would retaliate with lethal precision.

But the hand did not release a spell or unleash any devastating technique.

Instead, the figure groaned softly, propped herself up on one elbow, and tilted her head toward Kyle with a bleary, half-lidded stare.

The smell of old alcohol and ancient incense clung to her robes like a second skin.

"That wasn't very nice of you…You destroyed all my beautiful equipment. Do you have any idea how many months it took me to get those relics calibrated?"

She muttered, her words slightly slurred.

Kyle narrowed his eyes.

"You mean the divine traps set to incinerate anyone who stepped foot in here?"

"Yes, those. Art takes sacrifice. Yours, ideally. But now I'll have to remake everything. What a pain…"

She said, blinking slowly as if his answer didn't faze her in the slightest.

Racheal dropped to her knees beside the woman and began checking her condition, brushing dust and bits of scorched fabric off her master's sleeves.

"Why are you drunk again? You said you'd stop doing this—especially when the seals were active!"

She hissed, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

Her master blinked again, this time looking at Racheal with a puzzled frown.

"Did I say that? Sounds like something I would say. Probably meant it too. But then… the wine was just so lonely sitting there on the altar."

Racheal groaned into her hands.

"You're impossible."

Kyle stayed where he was, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly.

Still, his eyes never left the master. Her condition might have appeared pitiful, but the pressure rolling off her was anything but.

Even slumped, even drunk, her mana was vast and ancient—refined by decades of brutal focus and experimentation. She was dangerous, regardless of her current state.

"You must be the infamous master ruinist. The one Racheal said was the best in the world."

Kyle said slowly, voice carefully measured.

The woman didn't respond immediately. She was staring at him now—really staring. Her gaze wavered with drink, but there was a sharpness behind it that pierced through the haze.

"You're the one who broke my divine seal. Interesting. Not many people would've made it through without triggering the third backlash… You're not just some noble brat."

She said, more to herself than anyone else.