Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything! - Chapter 440 - 440: You're Devils
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Jessica hissed, her voice rising with panic as her boots echoed against the cold stone floor. Flames from the sconces lining the narrow corridor flickered across her face, revealing lines of stress carved deep into her brow. She gripped her gown to keep pace, trailing behind her son. “How could Count Marrowind and his entire household be slaughtered—and I hear nothing of it? Why hasn’t the realm erupted with this news?”
“We’ll find that out once we’re out of this gods-damned castle,” Kohath snapped, his jaw clenched as he led her through the hidden passageway, flanked by six of their most trusted guards. The air was stale and musty, thick with the scent of ancient dust and iron.
Above them, high on the battlements of Castle Verna, the stillness of night shattered.
A black shape fell from the sky like a hawk diving for prey, landing on the rampart with a metallic thud that jolted the sentries to full alert. They spun, spears raised—only to freeze.
Before them stood a man dressed in tight-fitting black leather armor, lean and coiled like a serpent. A silver scarf trailed from his neck, catching the moonlight like a ghost’s shimmer. His hood concealed all but the cold gleam of his eyes.
“In the name of Duke Asher Ashbourne,” the figure declared, his voice devoid of warmth—steel wrapped in ice, “surrender or perish.”
“Kill this bastard!” one of the knights barked, lunging forward.
He didn’t make it far.
A flash of silver. A wet gurgle. The knight staggered as a dagger punched into his throat, blood bubbling from his mouth as he collapsed like a felled tree.
Gasps rang out—then another blur of motion.
Behind the stunned guards, a second figure had appeared silently, like a shadow peeled from the night. Another Angel. Before the men could react, both assassins moved in unison.
Daggers flew.
Silver arcs whispered through the air, and throats split open like parchment. Soldiers clutched at their necks, eyes wide with disbelief as life spilled from them.
The Angels switched places in a blur, crossing through the middle of the formation. Where they passed, men dropped, decapitated cleanly, their helmets tumbling away.
No bell rang. No cry escaped.
Silence returned as two of the Angels descended from the ramparts and unlatched the iron gate. It creaked open to reveal a third figure—clad like them, but with a blue scarf flowing from his neck. His steps were calm, deliberate, as though he walked through a garden rather than into enemy territory.
It was Lan.
As he entered the courtyard, armored soldiers burst forth from the inner keep—dozens of them, fully equipped, their shields gleaming and weapons drawn. They fanned out, forming a defensive line. Every eye was fixed on the Angels on the ramparts.
Lan stopped in the middle of the courtyard. The wind tugged at his scarf as he slowly drew his dagger, the sound of steel sliding free echoing like a death knell.
“Surrender,” he said, voice cold and unbending, “or die.”
“Unleash your battle force!” the castle garrison commander roared, thrusting his sword into the air.
That was his last command.
The Angels threw their daggers once more.
But this time, something changed. Mid-air, the weapons ignited, bursting into glowing embers. The assassins vanished, consumed in the same blaze.
A breath later, they reappeared, right beside the bodies their daggers had struck.
Screams followed.
The courtyard exploded into chaos. Soldiers swung their weapons wildly, but they were fighting ghosts. The Angels danced between them, blades carving clean through gaps in armor with surgical precision. Each strike was fatal. Each step deliberate.
Blood soaked the flagstones.
Some tried to flee, only to round a corner and find an Angel waiting, emerging from glowing coals that sizzled in the air before fading into darkness.
By the time the moon reached its zenith, Castle Verna’s garrison was no more.
The hunt had begun.
…
After a grueling crawl through the damp, suffocating tunnels beneath the keep, Jessica, her son Kohath, and their remaining knights finally emerged onto the outskirts of Castle Verna. Moonlight spilled across the grassy rise, and the chill of night wrapped around them like a shroud.
Not far ahead, a dark forest loomed—an inviting sanctuary compared to the death they had fled. But between them and salvation stood a row of mounted men, cloaked in black, their steeds silent and still as gravestones.
At their front, a figure dismounted—a man whose blue scarf fluttered like a banner of execution.
Lan.
“The great grandson of the architect said you would emerge from this passage,” Lan said, his tone as casual as if he spoke of weather. He tilted his head slightly, studying them. “I doubted him. But… here you are.”
He flipped his dagger into the air.
In an instant, it ignited into embers, dissolving into flickering flames. Kohath’s eyes widened in recognition, his thoughts racing. ‘Are these… soldiers from Eden?’
Lan vanished.
He reappeared mid-air, ember-light spiraling around him, dagger once again in his hand. Before Kohath could fully react, the blade ripped past him—barely grazing his cheek—and buried itself in the throat of the knight behind him.
Whoosh!
A blink—and Lan seized his blade again, vanished, and reappeared at the next knight, whose eyes didn’t even have time to widen before the dagger kissed his jugular. Blood sprayed across the grass.
The last knight raised his sword, trembling—only to freeze.
Kohath had fallen to his knees, hands clutching his neck, blood trickling between his fingers. His eyes stared at nothing, wide and disbelieving.
“Kohath!” Jessica’s scream ripped through the still night as she dropped beside him, cradling her son’s limp body. Her breath hitched, tears streaming down her cheeks. “No… please, no…”
Lan stepped forward, crouching before her. His eyes, soulless, glacial—met hers.
“Do you realize the mercy Duke Asher showed you by not sending us sooner?” His voice was a low whisper, coiled with quiet fury. “Have you never read of the angels of wrath—messengers of death sent by I Am?”
He turned his head toward the final surviving knight.
“We are their incarnates.”
Puchi!
A fireball erupted from Lan’s palm, searing through the air and engulfing the man in flame. His scream tore through the night, echoing against the trees. The Angels around him remained impassive, as motionless as statues—inhuman in their calm.
Jessica flinched as the light danced across their dark garb. She clutched her son’s body, weeping openly now.
“You’re… devils…” she rasped.
Lan’s lips curled in a cold smile. “Don’t scream, Lady Jessica. You opened your doors to the devil the moment you went against His Lordship.”
He turned toward his men. “Hang her. As she hung the innocent maid… and Lady Kira.”
“Yes, Chief,” one of the Angels replied without hesitation.
Jessica’s scream echoed into the forest.
