Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything!

Unbeknownst to the greater public, as a few shadowed figures maneuvered behind veils of secrecy, monumental shifts were unfolding across the Ashbourne domain.

The most staggering of them came a week after the grand announcement of the upcoming celebration: Ashbourne declared its independence. The proclamation sent ripples across the continent.

Simultaneously, the long-stockpiled Ashbourne coin—meticulously minted from gold mined solely within their lands—was finally released. In the blink of an eye, the currency that had once been quietly gathered was now flooding every exchange shop and market.

A law was passed: within one month, the Eternal Immortal coin would no longer be accepted within Ashbourne lands. In response, nobles, merchants, and peasants alike surged through city streets to trade their Immortal coins for Ashbourne’s proud new currency. Massive queues lined exchange shops in every city, town, and outpost. The transition was swift, deliberate—and total. Millions of Eternal Immortal coins vanished into collection vaults, carted off to be melted and reforged into Ashbourne’s future.

On the borders, the Grand Aegis forces stood like sentinels atop the mighty Great Dividing Wall. The Scarlett Templar Knights remained at full readiness, their crimson armor glinting beneath the pale skies, prepared to intercept any retaliation from neighboring realms—or even from Prince Aaron himself.

Across the continent, the empire once held together by sheer ambition was unraveling. With the intervention of the Sacred Flame Empire, Aaron’s reinforcements stationed between Intis and Nubis were driven back. What remained of the prince’s dream to restore the Eternal Empire had crumbled. And as if the blow wasn’t already fatal, both House Ashbourne and House Adamos declared open independence, shocking every seat of power across the land.

While the world reeled from the announcements, Asher stood alone upon the high balcony of his stone-castle fortress, gazing across the cityscape of Nineveh. His cloak fluttered behind him, caught in the whispering wind.

It was a far cry from the splendor of Goshen, the marble-wrapped city of gardens; it lacked the ancient gravitas of Tiberias, or the sheer grandeur of Ashkelon’s wonder-built halls. It could not rival the floating city of Paradise, nor even touch the majesty of Titan City, the ocean-spanning jewel housing over 200,000 souls.

Nineveh was the least populated among them all, a modest 60,000 inhabitants—where other cities boasted twice or thrice that. It held little in allure, encased within bleak stone walls, and built more for war than for spectacle. To most, it seemed an odd choice for a duke’s seat—unrefined, severe, more garrison than capital.

Yet to Asher, it was home.

Where others saw cold, grey bastions, he saw loyalty. Where others saw limitations, he saw potential. Unlike the other domains, Ashbourne’s so-called “capital” had no crown jewel. But in Asher’s heart, Nineveh had always been the true center of his realm.

As the wind tousled his white hair, a faint smile curved his lips. Despite the icy air, his thoughts turned to warmth—the coming celebration of his sons, now just weeks away. But the breeze carried more than just winter’s chill. There was something in it… something deeper.

Abyssal.

The cold cut not with the season’s edge, but with a deeper omen. A whisper of the same Abyss Force that had shattered the greatest age the world had ever known. It was coming.

Then he spoke aloud to the voice in his mind.

“You called yourself the Lord Upgrade System. Said you could upgrade anything… and yet you’ve been idle lately.”

[You were content with what you’ve achieved.]

His golden eyes glinted. “Not anymore.”

He stepped forward, eyes scanning the overcast sky above Nineveh.

“I’ve climbed to the height of my bloodline. I’ve rekindled the flame of House Ashbourne’s glory… and yet, when I measure myself against the true titans of this land, I am still small. House El—blessed with their water spirit—why should they kneel before me? Cyrenia, with thrice my population, may one day storm these very walls.”

He exhaled slowly, fog curling from his lips.

“The higher I rise… the farther the summit becomes. Being a duke—it’s not enough.”

He spoke to no one, yet his words carried weight.

“The Emberframed? Shadows compared to the Immortals. I haven’t even faced the Death Knights of Galvia, and I know nothing of how deep the Sacred Flame’s elite truly burn.”

His thoughts spiraled back to the beginning—those desperate days when he first awoke in this body, when peril lurked at every turn. Fortunately, he had the Mortal Scroll at his side.

Now, years later, he found himself once more surrounded by threats—only now they were titanic, monstrous in scope. And again, a silent yearning for the Mortal Scroll stirred within him. Like a ghost of an old companion, always present, always watching.

[Your desire is back?]

He chuckled.

“They are. I vowed before the grave could claim me, House Ashbourne would become a legend. Not a footnote—an impossibility. I will not die a duke. I will not leave my people behind for beasts dressed as men to devour.”

Then, it came.

[Ding!]

A chime resounded in his mind.

[Requirement fulfilled: A Lord’s Desire]

[Would Host like to upgrade the Epic Stronghold ‘Nineveh’ into a Throne Capital City? Yes or No?]

Asher’s eyes narrowed, his lips parting in quiet awe. The wind fell still for a moment, as if the very world awaited his answer.

“Yes.”

RUMBLE!

The very bones of the stronghold quaked. From the fortress walls to the tallest towers of the castle, everything trembled with a deep, thunderous growl that echoed across the land. Chickens scattered in a frenzy, cattle bawled in panic, and people stumbled, clutching onto walls, carts, and anything they could find for support. Yet, as people braced for injury or collapse, they realized—astonishingly—that a faint golden radiance shimmered across the city, forming a protective veil. No one was harmed. The divine light bore them up gently as the trembling intensified.

The sound grew louder still, a guttural roar, like the earth itself being torn from the continent, louder than the stampede of ten thousand war elephants.

From Silverleaf to Nimrim, from villages to farmlands, heads turned and eyes widened. Farmers dropped their tools. Travelers abandoned their wares. Children stood still in awe. All eyes fixed on Nineveh.

And then—they saw it.

Nineveh was rising.

A colossal slab of land, dense with stone, soil, and city, began to ascend into the sky, surrounded by three smaller floating landmasses orbiting it like satellites. Dust and light swirled around the base, and as it lifted, so did the hearts of those watching—torn between disbelief and reverence.

Gasps filled the air. Some cried out and pointed. Others fell to their knees, overwhelmed. In moments, hundreds had gathered, watching with mouths agape as the floating city rose steadily into the sky until it hovered five hundred meters above the earth.

Atop that island in the sky, Asher stood motionless, struck speechless by what he beheld. For all his ambition, even he hadn’t imagined this level of majesty. His eyes traced the walls, now far taller than it once was. It was now fifty meters high.

The rectangular city was wrapped in gleaming white walls, on which hung black banners bearing the sigil of House Ashbourne: a howling white wolf.

The cityscape had transformed entirely.

The roads had changed from packed dirt and common stone to smooth blue cobblestone, stretching from the city square all the way to the outlying homes.

Dirt paths were nowhere to be found. Two grand statues stood flanking the main gate—on the right, Asher, clad in his legendary armor, his sword embedded in the earth. On the left, Sapphira, robed as a priestess, her face veiled in mystery, arms outstretched as if in blessing. Together, they formed the Pillars of Legacy, guardians of the floating stronghold.

All across Nineveh, rooftops had been transformed. Once mundane clay tiles were now black slate, gleaming beneath the sun. The buildings, painted in a striking contrast of white and black, carried an air of solemn grace and martial elegance.

Asher’s castle had grown beyond recognition. Its courtyard now stretched wide enough to house over a thousand citizens, with lush gardens, training fields, and tranquil groves. Stables sprawled at the east end, expanded to accommodate dozens of steeds and carriages. The guard barracks were reinforced and enlarged, ready to house a true army.

Green fields, vibrant and soft as velvet, rippled in the wind—ideal for horse riding or leisurely strolls under the high sky. The air was cooler here, thinner but purer, kissed by sunlight and touched by clouds drifting lazily above and below the floating city.

Asher moved quickly, heart pounding, to the Sacred Hall. He pushed open the grand doors and beheld a vision of glory. Golden pillars lined the chamber, the walls painted a luminous white, and the banner of House Ashbourne hung prominently on the left—its fabric catching sunlight pouring from tall, arched windows on the right.

At the end of the hall, atop an elevated dais, stood a new throne—not carved by hands but seemingly grown from the very earth, a throne of wood so ancient it gleamed like gold-veined stone. It radiated a primal power, as if the land itself had forged it for him.

He approached one of the tall windows and gazed out.

Clouds drifted peacefully around the city, curling beneath the floating land, painting the view in shades of silver and blue. A shimmering blue moat surrounded the inner castle walls, wide enough to carry boats, with channels spreading like veins across the city. These waterways allowed for seamless travel—by carriage and by boat.

The boats resembled elegant chariots with canopies, built for comfort and guided by three blue dolphins with snowy-white bellies. Some dolphins bore spiraled white horns upon their foreheads, like aquatic unicorns, and varied in size—some small and swift, others large enough to pull luxurious barges.

Stone bridges arched over the water-channels, beautifully designed for foot traffic and horse-drawn wagons alike. They gave the city a layered charm.

At the very heart of the city stood a massive tree, its trunk broad as a watchtower, its bark dark brown and roots sprawling to the very edge of the floating landmass. Its leaves sparkled with dew that never dried, and whispers from the amazed people claimed it was the Tree of Life!

Asher stood silently, eyes wide, heart thundering. He turned to look at the three smaller floating islands, each orbiting Nineveh gracefully.

They, too, were breathtaking—one cloaked in dense forests and shimmering lakes; another blooming with tiered gardens and vineyards; the last crowned with an open-air temple to the stars.

Nineveh had become more than a stronghold.

It had become a legend—a city in the sky, a throne among clouds.

And Asher, for the first time in a long while, truly felt the extraordinary prowess of the Mortal Scroll.

___

A/N: This is almost two chapters combined into one. Enjoy and don’t scream for more, I feel like my brain juice has been sucked dry.

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