Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything!

The skies above were a brooding canvas, streaked with charcoal clouds that swirled like ink in water. From the high balcony flanked by twin braziers, their flames swaying gently in the rising wind, a lone figure stood.

Sapphira.

Her silken robe fluttered in the breeze, the hem brushing the ornate stone beneath her feet. The silver streak in her otherwise oily-black hair gleamed under the firelight, like moonlight caught in a raven’s wing. Her eyes, sharp and sorrowful, gazed over the sprawling cityscape of Nineveh, the capital of Ashbourne Dukedom.

It was a city forged from ambition, protected by the paladins and it’s great height, far above the ground. The most secure stronghold in the land, yet paradoxically, the least populated. After its miraculous transformation into a city of wonder, an urban haven beneath Asher’s vision, it had drawn the interest of every noble house and merchant prince within a thousand leagues.

And yet… none were allowed permanent residence.

Only those who lived there before the transformation were permitted to remain. All others, no matter their coin, titles, or influence, could visit, could marvel at the towers and gleaming streets, could bask in the glory of Asher’s creation… but they could not call it home.

It was his decree.

Sapphira knew why. It wasn’t arrogance, it was protection. Nineveh was a seedbed for a new age, and he wouldn’t allow it to be trampled before it bloomed.

Still, pressure had mounted. Even the steward had made a case, several in fact, urging her to reconsider the rule in his absence. She had listened. She had weighed the possibilities. But even now, with four long months of silence… she hesitated.

It was not her decision to make.

The world believed him dead. Slain somewhere beyond the Veil, in Eden, swallowed by its chaos.

But she didn’t believe it.

Couldn’t.

He was flame and iron and vision. Not a man who vanished quietly into the dark. He was her fire, her storm. And even though she hadn’t heard his voice or felt the warmth of his embrace for seasons now, the bond they shared had not dulled.

The noble houses still loyal to House Ashbourne remained steadfast, for now. Their confidence lingered, bolstered by her calm… but she knew doubt was beginning to whisper in their ears. If too much time passed, if too many questions remained unanswered…the result would be unsightly.

Soft footsteps broke the stillness behind her, delicate yet confident.

She turned, the movement slow, composed.

Mia stood there with a sly smile. “Duchess Sapphira,” she said playfully, a lilt in her voice.

Sapphira’s face broke into a smile, brief, but genuine. Then came the sigh, long and tired, exhaled from a place deep within.

Her fingers drifted to the ring on her hand.

It was unlike any other in the world, a masterpiece forged not just from precious metal, but from memory, love, and promise. Crafted from liquid silver, it spiraled elegantly from the base to nearly the tip of her middle finger like a coiled spring. At its crown bloomed a single petal of blackened steel, so delicately carved that it looked alive, trembling ever so slightly as though caught in unseen wind.

A living memory of him.

A vow.

She rubbed it gently with her thumb as the flames crackled beside her and the night deepened, unsure if the tears in her eyes were from the wind…

…or from the ache of waiting too long.

“What do you think he’s doing now?” Sapphira asked, her gaze lingering on the heavens, as if she could somehow glimpse Asher’s face among the stars.

Mia followed her eyes, her voice soft and steady. “Looking for a way to return.”

But Sapphira shook her head faintly, the corners of her lips curling into a wistful smile. “No. He’s looking for a way to get stronger.”

There was a pause, then a fire behind her eyes.

“I know Asher. I know he’s suffered a great loss… maybe even at Aaron’s hands. But not in a thousand years could a man like Aaron truly kill him.”

Mia clenched her fists, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “Aaron is shrewd. Capable of anything to get what he wants. He has Yuna Mormont abducted, tied to his bed like a conquest!”

Sapphira didn’t flinch. Her poise remained intact, like a queen, forged. Only after a heartbeat did she turn her head slightly, her violet eyes resting on her personal attendant.

“Aaron will answer for what he’s done,” she said, her voice cool and resolute. “Do not seek vengeance for the wolf. Let it be. Asher will not let his sister’s tears fall in vain.”

With that, she turned and left the balcony. Her steps were steady, her bearing regal as she walked through the arched threshold into the sacred hall of Nineveh.

“How are Atreides and Merlin?” she asked calmly, her voice echoing softly in the silence of the grand chamber.

“They’re both asleep,” Mia replied.

“Good—”

But the word hung in the air, unfinished, as Sapphira’s smile vanished.

In the center of the sacred hall, flames erupted without warning. They roared up from nothing, spiraling skyward, conjuring heat that pushed the air back with a heavy pressure. The sacred braziers dimmed as this new fire dominated the space, growing larger, shaping itself, into a figure.

Tall. Male. Ears tapered to long points. Hair cascading to his waist. His coat was regal, high-collared.

Sapphira’s heart clenched. She knew this form.

Alexander.

A pride of Cyrenia. A monster clothed in charm.

“Alexandra,” the flaming apparition said with a warm, familiar smile, his voice smooth as silk, “I am on my way.”

Sapphira’s gaze turned to steel.

“I thought I told you to get out of my territory,” she hissed, “and never return.”

Alexander chuckled, folding his arms with infuriating ease. “You belong to me by fate. And I’m not coming to talk. I’m coming to take what’s mine.”

The flames flared wildly around him.

“You,” he said, voice turning possessive and venomous, “you are mine.”

Sapphira’s fists clenched at her sides, her body trembling, not with fear, but with fury. “I don’t want this filth in my sight.”

Paladins charged forward at her word, but the flames surged higher, the heat lashing at their skin.

Alexander’s voice rose like a tide of malice. “I’m coming, and when I do, I will cleanse this world of the disgusting vermin you spawned with that filthy human. Then you and I will create a true heir, one worthy of ruling a glorious empire like Cyrenia.”

“You wretch,” Sapphira growled. “I’ll have your tongue for this—!”

But before the sentence could be completed, the flames scattered into floating embers, vanishing as suddenly as they’d appeared.

Silence reigned.

“It was an astral projection, My Lady,” Mia said quietly behind her.

Sapphira didn’t answer. She stood frozen, her eyes locked on the place where he had stood. Her hands trembled slightly. Not with fear… but with rage.

Her gaze fell to the ring on her finger.

Her lips parted. Her breath caught.

‘Asher… where are you?’

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