Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything!

“He saw a future with me as his ruler. A future where he could sit upon a throne, rule his people in peace, while the rest of you hide behind tall trees and fight over an armor you aren’t even sure exists.”

Asher’s voice rang out like thunder over the battlefield, unwavering and sharp.

Kael’Zheran let out a low, amused chuckle, the sound guttural and laced with disdain. His golden mane shifted as he stepped forward, his clawed hands flexing.

“You expect us to bow to a human?” His lips curled back in a sneer. “I would rather kneel before the rotting corpse of a dwarf than bend to your treacherous kind.”

Asher shifted, lowering into a stance that made the earth beneath him seem to still.

“I do not plead for your consent,” he said, voice steady, eyes locked onto the two kings before him. “Bend the knee… or die with your pride.”

Before the words had settled into silence, Rak’kon, the Wolf King, bared his fangs and roared. The great axe in his grip gleamed as it came free with a heavy clank of runes.

“I will drink from your skull, human!”

With no further warning, Rak’kon drove his feet into the ground, dirt exploding beneath him as his massive frame surged forward like a thunderbolt. His raised axe came down with the force to split mountains.

Asher sidestepped at the last instant, the axe narrowly missing him and carving deep into the stone floor. Before Rak’kon could recover, Asher shifted his weight and feinted a strike to the right. Instinctively, the Wolf King unleashed a horizontal slash, raw, brutal, wide.

But Asher was no longer there.

He flowed left, an eruption of speed, and with a violent thrust, drove his sword into Rak’kon’s ribcage.

The great beast staggered back, pain lacing his howl. Then, his eyes went wide.

Ice.

From the wound, blue frost hissed outward like a living curse, creeping rapidly along his fur and flesh. In a flash of desperation, Rak’kon swung down and severed the spreading frost with his axe, roaring as the pain surged through him. Shards of frozen blood sprayed across the ground.

He glared at Asher, now standing tall, his massive whitewood claymore resting over one shoulder, steam rising from the blade’s faint chill.

“Kill him!” Rak’kon bellowed, fury splitting his throat.

Twenty thousand heavy wolf infantry roared in unison, their tomahawk axes raised, muscles taut, bodies primed for war. The air itself seemed to tense with bloodlust.

Asher’s voice boomed above them.

“I honored the oath. I challenged you, both kings! Not one after the other, but together. Let the end be decided here, between us three!”

But Rak’kon wasn’t listening. He was already mid-air, axe drawn back for another crushing blow.

A golden streak streaked upward like a lightning bolt and met him head-on, a massive shockwave splitting the sky as Kaelor collided with Rak’kon mid-flight.

The Wolf King was sent hurtling through the air, his body tumbling like a ragdoll before crashing into the earth and carving a massive crater.

Kael’Zheran’s eyes narrowed.

There stood Kaelor, once the savage Minotaur King, now reborn, clad in black and gold armor forged in the light of his Lordship, Asher. It pulsed with unseen power. A colossal axe was slung across his back, and his eyes burned with rings of crimson light, deep as blood and just as furious.

“He made me stronger, Kael’Zheran,” Kaelor’s voice growled like a rolling avalanche. “Strong enough to face you. And my people” he gestured behind him “are strong enough to reduce your dens to rubble. Even if it comes at a steep cost. Surrender now. Kneel… and you’ll rise anew.”

Kael’Zheran scoffed, mane bristling, claws twitching as lightning arced around his forearms, crackling with contained fury.

“You’re already a lost king,” he spat.

In the distance, Rak’kon rose from his crater, his fur scorched with frost, his lips curled back in silent rage.

Kael’Zheran’s growl deepened as he raised one clawed hand, ready to give the order.

“Bring me their hea—!”

But the command was never finished.

Asher appeared before him, a blur of motion, fist drawn back like a bowstring at full stretch. Kael’Zheran’s instincts surged, and he raised a palm to intercept, but then his eyes widened.

Two ice spikes burst through his chest from behind, crystalline and deadly, their jagged tips glinting red.

“You underestimated your foe.”

Asher’s deep voice rumbled into his ears, then came the punch.

It landed beneath his chin with a thunderous crack, sending a shockwave through his skull. Kael’Zheran’s neck snapped back, bones creaking under the force, and for the first time in centuries, he felt genuine pain.

Seeing their kings in such dire state, the entire army erupted. War cries shattered the air as twenty, thirty, forty thousand warriors surged forward like a storm unleashed.

But from the base of the cliff, Minotaurs in black and gold adamantine armour, heavier than any forged by man, leapt upward, their great axes raised high.

They landed behind Asher, boots cracking stone, their formation solid, weapons ready. Though outnumbered two to one, they did not flinch. Their resolve was a wall unyielding.

But Asher knew. He could see it. Their foes were not fodder.

These were elites, beasts hardened by centuries of bloodshed, their strikes capable of cleaving through armor and bone alike. The tide would crash. The wall would fall. He would lose everything.

And in that exact moment, his eyes changed.

A low hum echoed through the battlefield, blue flames exploded from his body in a pillar of searing radiance. But it wasn’t fire as they knew it, it was something else.

The flames licked the earth and froze it, a frost so cold it cracked stone, but within that frost was a heat so intense it could melt steel.

It burned, and it froze, in the same breath.

An unnatural existence.

Kael’Zheran’s breath caught as he raised his axe, but Asher was gone.

He felt it, the air parting behind him and he spun, only to find Asher midair, his massive claymore descending fast, the edge a silver blur, his entire body consumed by the flickering blue-white fire.

Kael’Zheran reacted on instinct alone. Lightning burst from his legs as he shot skyward in a blinding arc of energy, but his eyes widened when he saw not one, not two, but three massive crescent arcs made of condensed mana and swordlight slicing through the air toward him.

Each arc screamed like the wind before a storm.

Below, Rak’kon roared, having carved a bloody path toward Simon, Chief Paladin of Ashbourne. The seasoned warrior swept his long spear toward the king’s legs, but Rak’kon evaded with wild precision, grabbed the shaft and snapped it in half with one hand.

A weapon that had faced Imperials, and won, shattered like brittle wood.

Before Simon could react, Rak’kon gripped his head with a single massive hand. The Wolf King snarled, fangs glinting, ready to crush the skull of Ashbourne’s finest.

But his eyes flickered, a chill running down his spine.

Something was behind him but it was already too late.

With a single fluid motion, Asher appeared in a blur, and his whitewood claymore, sharpened to divine precision, swept clean through Rak’kon’s neck.

His head flew high into the air, trailing blood and steam.

Silence descended like fog.

Asher reached down and picked up the tooth necklace Rak’kon had once worn with pride, pride of the hunt, it was called. He turned, squatting slightly as he looked across the battlefield at Kael’Zheran.

“Do not mistake me for a benevolent fool.”

He stood tall, the ring pried from the necklace in one hand, his blade in the other. The moment he did, the golden ring on his finger fused with the other, the new runes searing bright crimson and folding over the gold like blooming fire.

A hum swept through the field. Every wolf warrior felt it in their soul.

And they fell to one knee, one after another, like trees in a storm.

Kael’Zheran stared in disbelief as tens of thousands bowed. Half the army was gone, not in body, but in spirit.

Asher raised his sword, pointing it at the Werelion King.

“Come,” he said, voice quiet but absolute. “I’ll give you the death befitting a king.”

Kael’Zheran’s golden eyes narrowed.

Their clashes so far had told him much, enough to know this was no ordinary swordsman. This human wielded his blade with the control beyond a swordmaster, every movement carved from purpose, every strike aiming for the kill.

Badum. Badum.

Asher’s heartbeat.

It pounded like a war drum, like a death bell tolling for the end of an age.

And suddenly, Kael’Zheran saw what he’d only sensed until now.

This wasn’t just a man.

This wasn’t just a lord.

This was reckoning made flesh. The emotions in him were violent, wrathful, wild and could be felt from his mana.

And to face it… would be madness.

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