Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything!

The sharp click-clack of heels echoed across the grand marble floor—a sound clear and rhythmic, like a quiet drumbeat in the sacred silence of the hall.

The floor, made from seamless white marble, stretched unbroken from the throne room into the far-reaching hallways, its surface polished to a glass-like sheen. No lines, no tiles—only a pristine expanse that reflected the golden and white walls.

The sound reached Asher’s ears and drew his gaze toward the entrance. He turned slightly, raising a brow with quiet curiosity just as his wife strode into the Sacred Hall with urgent grace. Her long coat fluttered faintly behind her as she moved, and her black heeled boots struck the floor with decisive intent.

Each step echoed with purpose, her silhouette framed by the towering double doors she had just passed through.

Her dark hair flowed over her shoulders, and a faint flush colored her cheeks—not from exertion, but from awe. Her eyes scanned the hall quickly, then locked onto Asher’s before darting toward the windows, drawn by the light and wonder beyond.

“You used it?” she breathed, voice catching with a mixture of disbelief and awe.

Without waiting for a response, she crossed the room and moved toward the tall arched window. Her steps slowed as she reached the glass, one hand rising to rest lightly on the carved edge of the frame. She leaned forward, lips parting slightly as she beheld the miraculous city below.

Her breath hitched.

The world beyond was a dream given form—a wondrous beauty in the sky, hovering far above the land. From the castle’s elevated spires, the clouds themselves drifted lazily past, sometimes brushing the outer balconies and windows, cloaking parts of the tower in wisps of silver fog. The light refracted off their edges like pearls in the sun.

From their vantage, the rest of Nineveh unfurled like a divine tapestry. The deep blue of the cobblestone roads shimmered like rivers of sapphire. The white-and-black rooftops formed elegant geometric patterns. The glistening moats and silver-leaved trees gave the illusion of a utopia pulled from legend.

To those below, watching from the distant earth, the city must have looked like a celestial kingdom, and the castle, like a palace for immortals.

The way the clouds coiled around the upper towers made it seem as though God had descended and carved out a sanctuary for himself, beyond reach, beyond comprehension.

And there, among it all, stood Asher and his wife—no longer bound to the ground like other mortals, but inhabitants of a new order. A city elevated not just in height, but in wonder, vision, and myth.

She stood silently by the window, drinking in the sight. No more words came. None were needed.

For this was Nineveh reborn.

All of a sudden, her breath slowed, soft and measured, as Asher stepped forward and slid his arms around her waist.

He pulled her gently against him, the warmth of his touch grounding her amidst the splendor around them. His lips curved into a quiet smile as he spoke, his voice low, threaded with tenderness.

“What do you think of our new home?”

Sapphira leaned into him, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. Her smile bloomed—gentle, radiant, and unforced—like the first rays of dawn casting golden light across the horizon.

In that moment, it outshone the sacred hall around them, its glory reflected not in marble or gold, but in her serenity.

“The kids will find it like no other,” she said softly, her voice carrying the melodic quality of hope and memory combined.

Asher closed his eyes for a breath. The scent of lavender clung to her like a whisper—not overpowering, but soothing, like incense in a holy temple. It wrapped around him and settled deep in his chest, calming the thrill still lingering from Nineveh’s ascension.

Then, something tugged at his attention. He glanced down.

“Why are you wearing boots?” he asked, amusement dancing in his tone.

“I’m testing out attires,” she said, turning to face him with a graceful pivot, her veil swaying. “Trying to decide what I shall wear on that day. What do you think about the boots?”

Asher clicked his tongue and shook his head slightly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“I’ve grown to love you barefoot,” he said. “You look like a damsel from the clouds—no, a goddess. You drift in like a dream, your feet untouched by the world, white and beautiful above the ground… and when you move your wings… God! It’s like the skies open.”

Sapphira blinked, then lowered her gaze shyly. A gentle red hue blossomed on her cheeks as she batted her lashes, trying—and failing—to hide the flicker of joy in her expression.

Without another word, she turned and began walking toward the exit with long, poised strides.

But halfway down the hall, she paused.

In a slow, graceful motion, she bent to unbuckle the boots. One by one, she stepped free, her feet rising gently off the ground, hovering just above the marble, as though even the earth itself revered her presence.

She rose.

A few inches, then a little more—her figure drifting with effortless grace. Her veil fluttered behind her. A soft glow caught in her hair as light poured through the stained-glass windows above.

A smile—hidden from Asher—spread across her face, subtle and full of tenderness, laced with affection. And with not a word more, she flapped her wings and flew from the hall.

Asher stood in silence, watching the empty doorway she left behind. His heart, full already, seemed to swell further.

Yes.

This was home.

Shortly after Sapphira’s departure, the sharp echo of boots tapping steadily against marble drew Asher’s attention once more.

Nero entered the sacred hall, clad in a forest-green gambeson that reached down to his thighs. The material, sturdy yet well-fitted, was toggled neatly at the right side, allowing ease of movement while still maintaining a knightly presence. At his side hung two blades—his trusted longsword and a custom-crafted short sword, forged longer than the common make, tailored for his unique dual-style combat.

Walking ahead of him was Kelvin—silver-haired, graceful, and dressed in the impeccable garb of a nobleman’s steward. His deep-blue tailcoat and polished black shoes contrasted sharply with the worn, utilitarian garb of Nero behind him.

Cradled in Kelvin’s arm was a thick ledger bound in red leather, its golden clasps gleaming beneath the light spilling in from the tall windows. A calm, knowing smile graced his face as he stepped into the hall.

“This is a wonderful development, My Lord,” Kelvin said, his voice smooth and respectful. “I had almost begun to believe you would never bring Nineveh in line with the grand visions you have for the others. And yet… here it stands. A city worthy of the myths to come.”

He halted before the Asher, bowing his head slightly in reverence.

“It was the beginning,” Asher replied, his tone reserved but resolute. He clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze steady. “And now, it must be the proof.”

“Indeed,” Kelvin said with a small nod. “The preparations are complete. The colosseum—thanks to your last-minute adjustments—now seats two thousand comfortably. Its white stone arches glimmer under the morning sun. I daresay it will be the talk of every realm.” He bowed again, lower this time. “All is ready, My Lord.”

Asher’s eyes narrowed slightly as he turned his attention to Nero, who now stood upright, hands loosely resting by his swords.

“You will represent House Ashbourne on that day,” Asher said, voice firm, carrying weight. “Train with everything you have, Nero. Knights of domains, far and near, champions, and swordmasters, will come. And when they do, this will not just be a tournament.”

He stepped forward, his shadow falling over the floor, voice growing quieter but no less intense.

“This will be a statement to the world: Can Ashbourne truly stand free from the imperial family? Can we be sovereign in strength? That day will give them our answer.”

Nero didn’t flinch. He nodded once, slowly.

“I understand, My Lord. I won’t let you down.”