Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything!

“He wants you and the five hundred members of the Shadow Order to eliminate Duke Asher Ashbourne… and his family,” Apollyon said softly, his deep voice echoing through the silent, frost-hardened hall.

Before him stood a woman, unnaturally pale, with crimson hair cascading like spilled wine over a gown of the same hue. Her eyes, the color of frozen blood, glimmered with subtle contempt as she listened.

“He wants the entire Shadow Order for one mission,” she said coldly. “Does he even comprehend the cost?”

Apollyon didn’t flinch. He leaned slightly forward, voice rising with sovereign weight.

“Possession of half the largest Mythril crystal vein known to exist, a vein filled with crystals capable of neutralizing the Abyss force. That vein… is the only path to survival. When the invasion begins, no wall, no fortress, no spell will hold, only this.”

The air grew heavy.

The woman’s lips thinned. She was no ordinary assassin. She was Blood, first of her name, oldest of her order, and its supreme leader. Older than Apollyon. Deadlier than any creature whispered of in the dark.

“You’re saying,” she began slowly, her tone edged with steel, “you want me… to go?”

Apollyon’s eyes locked with hers.

“Yes,” he said. “Kill him… and return swiftly.”

Silence.

Then, with a grace that belied the destruction she carried in her wake, Blood stepped back, bowed deeply, a gesture of respect only she and Apollyon remembered how it began and turned.

Her crimson gown swirled behind her as she strode from the throne hall, each step a silent promise of death.

Apollyon’s gaze dropped again to the parchment in his hand.

His fingers tightened.

He knew Asher’s record. Knew all too well the rise of the man they called the Blood King. A wealthy kingdom now bore Asher’s banner, Everard, once a power of its own, had fallen beneath his black crown.

Asher was a force to reckon with… but before the weight and might of an empire, what Asher had built in under ten years was but a flicker compared to what Apollyon had forged over eight centuries.

There was a reason the world feared him.

His greatest creation, the Death Knights, were born from the Lake of Death, a twisted, unnatural body of water he discovered deep within Eden. That lake no longer existed. He had drained it dry, used every drop to create hundreds of thousands of soldiers, soulless, immortal, unfeeling.

A force unlike any other.

Where they marched, the land withered. Crops rotted. The soil turned gray. Their presence alone was death made manifest. A single legion could overwhelm a kingdom. A full march? It could annihilate the world outside the great empires.

And yet… even with such might…

He still feared the Abyss King.

He had fought in the last great war against the Abyss. He had seen firsthand what came from the void. The Abyss King had not even appeared, and still… an entire civilization had vanished without mercy.

This time, the Mythril Crystal Vein was the only hope of survival.

If claiming it meant eliminating Asher, then so be it.

Let the Blood King rise from the dead again and again, it would make no difference. Blood, the First of the Shadow Order, would lead the mission herself. And with her would come six Awoken Ones, each trained not for glory, but for annihilation. Each one deadly in ways the world had long forgotten.

Blood herself was an Awoken One of the Third Rank.

With her, hundreds of assassins would descend on Ashbourne.

This was no mission.

It was a slaughter.

And this time…

Even Asher would not survive.

…..

The gentle creaks of the carriage echoed in Asher’s ears, a rhythmic lull that blended with the muffled clatter of wheels over cobbled stone. Inside, the air was warm, serene.

Asher sat with one leg crossed over the other, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched the twins opposite him locked in a playful quarrel over a toy.

A small, intricately carved figure made in his image, Kelvin had commissioned a sculptor to craft it, and now it was the coveted treasure of their tiny battleground.

Beside him, Sapphira smiled, the kind of smile that only an angelic woman could wear, equal parts peace and grace. “Your sister will be happy to see you,” she said gently, her voice softer than the wind outside the window.

Asher returned her smile. It had been months since he last saw Mary. Over the past eight months, while he had turned Everard into a bastion of power, Mary had stayed with Lucas, who had not only engaged her but also remained at her side in the Mary Academy through much of that time.

Now that they had officially tied the knot, she had taken leave to the Domain of Adamos, enjoying a long and well-earned retreat.

“Since I missed her marriage,” Asher said with a sigh of guilt softened by warmth, “acknowledging her invitation to visit is the least I can do.”

Sapphira leaned in and gently rested her head on his shoulder. Her silver-streaked emerald hair brushed against his neck as she looked up into his face, her emerald eyes shimmering as they met the glow of his golden ones.

“You’re finally back,” she whispered.

Asher didn’t respond, his smile deepened as he let the silence linger between them.

Sapphira continued, more quietly now, the comfort of the moment making her voice tremble with emotion. “Asher… maybe it’s time we calm down. Focus on what’s ours. The wars… the conquests… they’ve made you distant. Our army is massive now, yes, but so many of our soldiers are still struggling at the Gold Rank. You hold the Mortal Scroll, the key to their growth. You can help them. You can help build the wall. Help the people. “

She paused and exhaled, as though her words had been held back for weeks.

“The battles have kept you away.”

Asher turned to look at her, a teasing glint in his eye. “Weren’t you the one speaking of war before I returned?”

Sapphira chuckled, the sound like bells in the morning sun. “I only burn when you’re not around,” she said with a playful glint of her own. “We’re like fire and water, Asher. I can only play my role properly when you’re near.”

Asher smiled and leaned back, the weight in his chest easing just a little. The world could wait, for now, he was home.

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