Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything!

Slash!

Steel met sinew with a brutal hiss. A sword cleaved clean through the wolf’s thick neck, sending its blood arcing across the snow. The beast, towering as tall as a man, collapsed with a final, shuddering growl, its lifeblood melting crimson trails into the white.

The man who felled it didn’t even flinch.

Reuel, cloaked in a dark fur coat, chuckled as he wiped his blade clean against the creature’s pelt. His laughter echoed through the wintry glade, his face a portrait of handsome cruelty, as if sculpted from ice and vanity.

He tilted his head upward toward the stone ramparts of the nearby fortress, 15 feet high, stark against the pale sky—where two women watched him with unreadable expressions.

And not just any women.

They were gems of Tenaria, paragons of beauty and power rarely seen in the same breath.

Nephis Nyx stood with quiet poise, her violet mage robes fluttering gently in the wind. The prodigious heir of the Nyx Household, a prestigious duchy sworn to House Zaur, she had become the whispered name in every court across the Kingdom of Intis.

Men sought her hand. Nations coveted her allegiance. But it was her mind and magic that commanded awe.

At just thirty-nine, she had already defeated Ancient-ranked mages—feats that would place her on equal footing with the mighty Exalted and even the Legendary ranks within the elusive Awoken Realm.

In a world where few ever even glimpsed the power of an Awoken One, she had proven herself capable of one day reaching their ranks.

A walking miracle. An irreplaceable asset. A weapon wrapped in silk and grace.

Standing beside her was another wonder—Sylvia, the Jewel of the Empire, and Reuel’s concubine. She glowed with breathtaking elegance, her beauty so refined it made the snow around her seem dull.

More radiant than Nephis in every feature, save for power. Sylvia’s talents could not match the mage’s terrifying potential, but she needed none. She was crafted for the throne room, not the battlefield.

Reuel raised his sword in mock salute, grinning wide.

“You see that?” he called to the guards gathered behind him. “That’s how I’ll take the Mad Duke’s head.”

He laughed again, light-hearted and cruel.

But the wind shifted.

From the woods beyond, the hush of snow-laden trees gave way to the low thud of boots and the rustle of armor. The forest stirred. Then, the foliage parted, and a contingent of one hundred marched into view—silver armor gleaming under the pale sunlight, each step precise and disciplined.

At their head rode Prince Aaron, his presence like a blade of ice slicing through the tension.

He dismounted with calm confidence, eyes sharp beneath his fur-lined helm.

“I doubt you’ll be taking the head of the only swordsman to reach the Awoken Realm at twenty-five,” Aaron said coolly, his voice laced with warning.

Reuel cocked his head, resting the blade across his shoulder as if it were weightless.

“I don’t need a sword to kill him,” he replied. “My eyes are enough. One glance… and he’ll drive his own blade through his heart.”

Aaron gave a faint, bitter smile. “Then you’ve clearly never met him.”

He strode forward, stopping beside Reuel and casting a slow gaze over the small town that sprawled behind the walls. It was a settlement barely clinging to significance, with frost-kissed roofs and narrow cobbled streets winding between squat stone buildings. Smoke drifted from chimneys. The scent of iron hung in the air.

“This is your third town. You still need to expand your influence,” Aaron said, voice low. “Summon more of your people. Rally the banners. If he arrives before you’ve gained a proper foothold, you won’t be able to hold him back. Not even with a thousand men.”

Reuel’s brow furrowed. He knew Aaron was right.

Because this was Eden—the Primordial Realm, the proving ground of legends. A sacred place beyond the veil of the known world, where power did not flow from birthright, but from influence.

Here, titles meant nothing if they could not be enforced.

Here, armies came not from inheritance, but from the strength of one’s will, one’s aura of command, one’s accumulation of authority.

Even one as dangerous as Asher—the so-called Mad Duke—would arrive in Eden limited, his forces capped at a hundred. It would be the one window in which he was truly vulnerable.

There would be no better time to strike. No better moment to end a man destined for the crown.

Unless…

Unless he sensed the trap and chose not to come.

But Reuel doubted that. The Mad Duke was many things—but he was no coward.

And he would come. Because he had to.

The Kingmaker could only be found in Eden.

As the two rulers walked side by side toward the iron-bound gates, a hush fell between them, broken only by the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots.

Reuel glanced at Aaron with a raised brow. “I heard the rumors are true. You abducted Yuna Mormont from House Adamos. The Mad Duke will not take kindly to the disappearance of his sister’s closest friend.”

Aaron’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening beneath the weight of pride. “Has the number one assassin of the shadow order ever failed a job? Besides It matters little what Asher feels,” he said flatly. “He’ll be dead before she ever gives birth to my child.”

Reuel stopped briefly, squinting at him with quiet calculation. Then he chuckled, the sound low and dry. “I see.”

Aaron resumed his stride, speaking in a measured tone. “You should focus on transporting more miners to the Mythirl Veins. If we can tap into those gemstone reserves, we’ll stand shoulder to shoulder with Sacred Flame and Galvia in terms of resource power.”

His voice was cool now, almost clinical. The matter of Yuna—her abduction, her will, even her pain—was dismissed in his eyes. Relegated to a mere consequence of conquest and legacy.

“She carries my seed,” he added coldly, “and that alone gives her purpose. Whatever protest she made changes nothing.”

Reuel said nothing more. But his silence was not agreement—it was the silence of men too accustomed to a world where cruelty often wore the mask of strategy.

…

A/N: End Of Volume 5: The Duke’s Reckoning!!!

See you next year!!

Kidding!

!!Read the Author’s Thoughts !!

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!