Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything!

“He’s alive…” Morgana gasped, her voice soft, trembling on the edge of disbelief and awe.

She stared at the count collapsed near the doors, her breath catching as memories of whispered stories echoed in her mind. She had never met the Blood King, but his legend had reached even the marble halls of Silvermoon. Her mother, who rarely paid attention to matters outside their domain, had asked about him more than once.

Every few years, someone would swear he had fallen, and every time, he returned.

There had never been a man like him. Not in any era. Not in any empire.

“People die, and they stay dead,” she murmured. “But not him…”

Aaron’s hands clenched on the table.

“We have to kill him,” he said sharply. “You’ve heard the accounts. He’s a madman. He butchered millions in Everard. He exterminated the noble bloodline of Mormont down to the last child and their guards with them!”

Reuel leaned forward, rage flickering in his dark eyes. “He brings war wherever he goes. Blood and fire trail behind him like hounds. Do you know what he told my wife? He threatened to send my head to her in a ballroom, my head!”

His palm slammed against the table, making the relief map of Eden tremble under his fury.

“If we allow a madman like him to grow unchecked,” Reuel growled, “then the next head he claims could wear a crown, an imperial one.”

But Elowen did not flinch. Her fingers remained delicately folded, her posture calm and precise, even as her golden eyes narrowed.

“The Sacred Flame Empire,” she said coolly, “does not desire war. Especially not with a man who has known nothing but war since the day he held a baron’s title.”

Aaron turned to her, expression tightening into disgust. “Are you suggesting the empire is afraid of a duke?”

Elowen chuckled, but there was no warmth in the sound.

“The empire fears nothing,” she replied smoothly. “But the merchant guild, whose coin fuels the empire’s peace, seeks no war as long as they can afford stability. The imperial family… stands with them.”

Her words hung in the air like a blade suspended above the table. A clear message: the empire would not commit to a war just to please wounded pride.

Morgana’s gaze drifted back to the count still gasping on the floor.

“Whether you call him mad… or cursed… or divine,” she murmured, “Asher is alive again. And that, my lords, should trouble all of us.”

Everyone turned to her.

“Which is why I propose a peaceful approach,” Morgana said, her tone steady, each word deliberate. “The Abyss is stirring. Galvia is already at war with my nation. The wisest path is unity, not more bloodshed. The North must not tear itself apart now.”

She looked to the others, her poise unshaken.

But Aaron rose slowly, eyes narrowing, his jaw clenched.

“You will send your army to aid us,” he declared, voice sharp as tempered steel, “or you shall have no claim to the Mythril crystal vein. Not a single shard.”

Elowen remained seated, unbothered.

“If war is the price for access,” she said coolly, “then I reject it.”

“So do I,” Morgana added, her voice low but firm.

Aaron’s chuckle was humorless, his contempt thinly veiled. “Is that right?”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

With a sweeping turn of his cloak, he strode from the chamber, each heavy step echoing like thunder across the stone hall. In mere moments, his tall form disappeared beyond the arched doorway, leaving behind a silence thick with tension.

….

A massive brown eagle soared above the clouds, wings outstretched in silent majesty as it glided effortlessly through the thin, biting air. It hung in the sky for a moment, then took a steep dive, slicing through the heavens like a blade.

As it broke through the cloud veil, the world below emerged, an expanse of white.

Snow drifted gently from the heavens like ash from God’s forge.

Below, as far as the eagle could see, a frozen wilderness stretched endlessly: trees laden with frost, mountains cloaked in ice, and, rising like an ancient titan from the snow, a citadel.

The citadel was unlike any other. Towering walls fifty meters high formed an unbroken ring of ivory stone. Its ramparts were wide enough for entire battalions to march across, and perched at its four corners were monstrous war engines—Disaster-Class Ballistas.

Each emplacement featured a Mother Ballista, flanked by two smaller Daughters, arranged in a precise triangular formation that could annihilate even a dragon mid-flight.

Guarding the walls were knights clad in heavy black armor. Their pauldrons bore the carved sigil of a tower, and they stood like statues of war, hands resting on obsidian-tipped spears that reached twice their height.

The moment they sighted the eagle, two hundred spears angled skyward in perfect synchrony. Ballistas clicked into place, their massive limbs groaning as they adjusted aim.

But just before the order to fire could be given, there was a brilliant flash of golden light.

In mid-air, the eagle twisted and shimmered, feathers morphing into cloth and skin. A man descended from the light, a tall figure in a cloak of wind-battered feathers, his eyes sharp and piercing.

His voice boomed like thunder over the wall:

“I come bearing words for the Emperor, from His Highness, Aaron Nethaneel!”

Within the Citadel…

In a vast hall of icy pillars and vaulted shadows, a man sat not on the throne, but on the steps leading to it. A simple, deliberate gesture of power.

He was Emperor Apollyon Galvia, sovereign of the south’s most militaristic empire. His long robes were dark crimson, lined with the pelt of a white direwolf, and his crown rested on the arm of the throne rather than his brow.

In his hand, he held a rolled leather parchment, its seal now broken. He said nothing.

The echo of heels striking cold stone approached from behind, sharp, rhythmic, deliberate.

Without turning, the Emperor raised the letter higher, signaling silently.

His golden eyes narrowed.

“Aaron dares send me words,” he murmured.

“Oh?” A coquettish reply. “What did it say?”

Apollyon lifted his head. “Kill Duke Asher Ashbourne and his entire lineage.”

…..

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