Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything! - Chapter 425 - 425: Land Of Eden
Asher stirred.
A flicker of light returned to his eyes, faint at first, like a dying ember catching wind. His gaze fixed on the two small figures nestled in Sapphira’s arms. Unreadable at first—distant, detached—but with each passing heartbeat, something began to shift. The air grew taut with tension, as though all the trees and stones and souls around them held their breath.
Slowly, Asher rose from the boulder. Sunlight carved the contours of his bare torso—taut muscle shaped not by vanity but by necessity, by years of battle and burden. He extended his hand, wordlessly.
Sapphira stepped forward, cradling the twins with a kind of reverence only a mother could carry. She handed them over, her hands lingering for a breath longer than necessary. Asher took them into his arms—awkwardly at first, then with increasing certainty—as though rediscovering a lost instinct.
He looked down at them, his expression neither warm nor cold, but intensely focused. The twins stared back with an uncanny seriousness, green and golden eyes locked onto the man whose presence was intimidating yet gentle.
A silent contest ensued—a no-blink battle between father and sons.
When Asher finally blinked, Merlin blinked rapidly in response, his little face scrunching in exaggerated mimicry. Atreides, meanwhile, let out a delighted gurgle, a sound like the smallest victory trumpet ever blown.
“He looks like me,” Asher murmured, his voice hoarse with disuse. His eyes lingered on Atreides, and the corners of his lips lifted into a slow, hesitant smile. It was the kind of smile that rose like dawn after a long, bitter winter—fragile, yet full of promise.
Behind him, Sapphira exhaled softly. A wry smile touched her lips, though it carried more weight than joy. She had anticipated this outcome.
Merlin’s fate was now—
“And he looks like the woman I love.”
The words shattered her thoughts.
She looked up sharply. Asher’s eyes had softened, and his calloused fingers now reached gently for Merlin. The baby responded instinctively, wrapping both hands around the offered finger, as if to say: I know you.
A low, quiet chuckle rumbled from Asher’s chest. Sapphira moved before thought could stop her—closing the space between them, wrapping her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his broad back.
His skin was warm beneath hers, the strength in his body still undeniable. And there it was—her scent. Lavender. Rich, sweet, and soothing. For nearly a century she had bathed in it, and now it clung to her like an aura, unmistakable and familiar. To Asher, it was the smell of home… the memory of peace.
“You were there, weren’t you?” Her voice was a tender whisper, smooth as silk and laced with honey.
“I was,” he replied after a pause. “I heard the gasps when they saw him… Merlin.” He looked down at the green-haired child in his arms, then at the white-haired one nestled beside him. “And Atreides.”
Sapphira’s eyes closed. Her arms trembled slightly as the weight of everything pressed against her—loss, hope, and the aching beauty of reunion.
Around them, the world faded.
Asher’s arms held both boys now, their tiny bodies resting against his chest like fragile anchors pulling him back to the world. His fingers brushed Merlin’s green curls, then Atreides’ snowy white ones. His expression, once cold stone, now bore the cracks of returning life.
“Yes…” Sapphira whispered, her voice trembling. “That’s Merlin. And the quieter one is Atreides.”
She didn’t add your sons—she didn’t need to. The way Asher held them now, as if the war in his soul had found pause, spoke louder than any claim she could make.
Asher let out a breath, one that seemed to carry months of weight. “Merlin… he has your eyes. But something else too. I don’t know what yet.” He leaned in, their foreheads nearly touching. “I’ve found it. A birthmark the shape of a bird,. it’s faint but slightly below his lips. I have it too.”
Merlin responded with a burble. Atreides, undeterred by the lack of attention, shoved a tiny hand toward Asher’s nose.
A soft laugh broke from Asher.
Behind him, Sapphira held tighter, as if afraid that loosening even a finger might cause this moment to vanish. Her lips pressed lightly between his shoulder blades, where his heartbeat thudded strong. Her tears—silent, warm—rolled down her cheek, soaking into his skin.
“I’ve never stopped loving you,” she whispered.
Asher was quiet for a moment, his breath syncing with the twins’. Then, he turned his head slightly toward her.
“I know,” he said. “Even when I wished you had.”
It wasn’t bitter. Just… honest.
Her arms trembled again, not from pain, but relief.
And then Asher whispered, just for her, “You broke me, Sapphira. But these two… they’ve begun to put me back together.”
She let out a soft sob into his back and nodded, holding him as though her life depended on it.
The sun finally broke through the canopy of trees above them, casting golden light upon the four of them. A family, fractured by truth, bound again by something deeper—love that had endured the storm.
And in the distance, Sirius let out a quiet breath, lowering his great head to the ground.
The war wasn’t over, but for this fleeting moment—peace had come.
“Have you seen your name?” Sapphira asked suddenly.
Her voice was soft—almost trembling—like a harp string plucked too hard. It was a delicate question, one steeped in bad memories.
Asher’s chest rose and fell in a deep, weary sigh. “I have. So it’s true… there is a realm beyond Boundless. A place where resources exist that make even our most sacred treasures here seem pale.”
Sapphira nodded, solemn. “Yes. And your enemies have been mining there for years. Four months ago, Aaron uncovered a titanium vein, a large one. Once he equips, his twenty thousand immortals and if they march on us, Ashbourne, we will fall.”
Asher’s expression darkened. He turned his gaze toward her, slow and deliberate. “For you to see this… you must have gone to Eden.”
Another nod.
“And that’s why you sent the Dauntless Knight after me,” he said, piecing the events together aloud.
Again, she nodded, lips pressed tightly.
“But to place your hope in a man barely thirty years old becoming an Awoken One…” Asher trailed off, the doubt plain in his tone.
“I had reasons,” Sapphira said quietly. “You carry the Mortal Scroll. Your comprehension ability is among the highest I’ve seen. And you now possess the King Body—a body said to be the strongest amongst all races. With all that, I believed it was possible. You’ve claimed your name under the position of a lord… and now you can establish a camp in Eden. Begin transporting resources before your brothers make their moves.”
Asher’s expression softened, the cold edge in his tone melting into something warmer, almost wistful. “Is that so? Then before any of that, we should do what matters most. Our children are already two months old. It’s time we celebrate their arrival into this world.”
Sapphira blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.
Then Asher’s lips curved with mischief. “By the way, my True Name is Mig’dal-el—!”
Sapphira’s hand clamped over his mouth with a gasp, eyes wide. “You fool!” she whispered sharply, but it was too late. He had already said it.
She exhaled, releasing him with a reluctant sigh.
“I am Ir-she’mesh. But never speak your True Name aloud again, Asher. Especially not yours—it is a Lord’s Name, and that can give your enemies power. Dangerous power.”
Asher inclined his head, murmuring with exaggerated politeness, “As you say, Lady Ir-she’mash—”
Sapphira winced.
“…she’mesh,” she corrected softly, half-exasperated.
He smirked, but said nothing. His pronunciation had been flawless the first time, but he was teasing her now.
Clearly, he still remembered the old tongues. Clearly, some things hadn’t changed.
