Reincarnated Lord: I can upgrade everything! - Chapter 448

Chapter 448: Blood King [7]
Sirius tilted its massive white-furred head slightly, unbothered.

Asher inhaled deeply.

Together, rider and beast opened their jaws and breathed ruin.

A wave of flame surged forth—not red, but a blazing fusion of orange and blue, hotter than forgefire, wider than a siege tower. It roared across the field like a tidal wave of judgment.

The very air sizzled as the flames struck the volley. In an instant, the arrows ignited, twisted, and disintegrated. All twelve thousand—gone. Incinerated mid-air, reduced to cinders that never even kissed the earth.

Solvane staggered backward atop the rampart, shielding his face with a trembling arm as the radiant heat slammed into him. He watched in horror as his final hope, the coordinated barrage, was turned to smoke.

But Cyclox was not done.

A fresh volley screamed through the air, ballista bolts, thick as tree trunks, hurled from the inner walls with deadly force. Each one aimed straight at Sirius.

Asher’s eyes narrowed. With a single, practiced movement, he slashed twice with his longsword, the Leviathan.

Twin arcs of searing energy exploded from his blade—crescent-shaped sword lights, vast and blinding, tearing through the air like blades of condensed stormlight.

The bolts shattered.

Splinters of burning wood rained down across the battlefield, harmless now.

And then, with a thundering stride, Sirius reached the walls. The great white beast reared back, then unleashed another blast of dragonfire. The city gates—thick, golden-braced, said to be unbreakable—melted inward. The sheer heat and force blew them off their hinges, flinging twisted metal and burning wood into the defenders inside. Dozens of soldiers were crushed beneath the flying wreckage.

Panic erupted.

Then—a sharp sound.

A blade slicing flesh.

King Solvane stood at the center of the parapet, his trembling hand now soaked in blood. He had cut his own palm deep, crimson dripping to the golden stones at his feet.

At that moment, something shifted in the air.

His generals, seeing this act, turned pale, and ran. Their eyes wide with horror, they abandoned their king. Even his most loyal bodyguards began to flee, pushing past one another like rats escaping a sinking ship.

Because they knew.

They knew what came next.

A deep, unnatural rumble cracked through the skies.

From Solvane’s bleeding palm, a blinding force erupted, coiling upward like smoke and lightning. The air screamed. The ground trembled.

Asher’s eyes snapped toward the king, his breath catching. Even Sirius lowered its burning gaze, drawn by the sudden shift.

Solvane’s body began to glow from within. His veins lit like molten metal, his muscles tensing with a power not entirely his own.

Whatever ritual he had begun—it was ancient, forbidden, and final.

Asher narrowed his golden eyes.

The battlefield stilled, every eye now fixed on the mad king of a dying realm.

And in that frozen moment, something darker than war stirred.

Where King Solvane once stood, there was now nothing but scorched stone and a spiraling column of smoke—and then, the air shattered with a thunderous *boom*.

From that smoke emerged a behemoth, a towering nightmare torn from the pages of myth.

Thirty feet tall, its body was an impossible mountain of corded muscle and cracked bronze skin, pulsing with unnatural heat. It wore no armor save for a battle skirt of tattered rags, soaked in dried blood, fluttering in the rising wind like the banners of a forgotten war.

In each colossal hand, it held a cleaver—not crude, but cruelly crafted from solid gold, ancient runes carved into their surface pulsing with molten light. The weight of them bent the air.

But what drew every eye—what froze even the bravest among Asher’s men—was its face.

Or rather, its lack of one.

The creature had a single, massive eye, burning like a furnace, embedded deep in the center of its forehead. No nose. Just that eye—wide, unblinking, and full of hunger.

It locked onto Sirius and Asher with immediate, chilling focus.

The temperature dropped, yet the creature steamed, as though it boiled from the inside.

A tremor shook the ground as it took its first step forward, and with it, the very stones of the wall cracked beneath its feet.

Nero’s voice was hushed with disbelief.

“The One-Eyed God… the Cyclop!”

The god, the people of Everard worshiped.

A creature of legend—the last known godbeast bound by blood ritual, said to have once challenged dragons and torn through mountain strongholds with bare hands. A weapon of extinction, sealed away in chains of soul and fire.

And now… it had been freed.

Its gaze narrowed.

Sirius growled, deep and low, fire licking the edges of its snout.

Asher raised his Leviathan sword, letting the blade rest across his shoulder, his golden eyes locked on the ancient terror now awakened.

“So this is your final prayer, Solvane…” he muttered under his breath. “A god made of flesh and wrath.”

The Cyclops raised both cleavers high, and the air screamed with their weight.

With a thunderous snarl, the Cyclops leapt, its massive frame hurtling through the air with terrifying speed. The twin golden cleavers came down like falling meteors, each swing howling through the air, carrying the weight of mountains and the wrath of gods.

Asher moved not to evade—but to meet it head-on.

Like a man possessed, he soared upward, his body a blur of dark grey and wind-swept silver. With both hands gripping the Leviathan blade, he swung upward—a rising arc of blazing steel against the divine fall of the twin cleavers.

And then—

The collision unleashed a shockwave so violent it didn’t just echo—it screamed.

A blinding burst of light exploded outward, a white-hot ripple that obliterated an entire stretch of Cyclox’s golden wall. Masonry, battlements, and towers were flung into the air like leaves in a storm.

Below, tens of thousands—soldiers and slaves alike—were blown away, tossed across the field like dolls, crashing into stone, banners, and each other.

The very ground beneath the clash cracked, crumbled, and then imploded—a wound carved into the earth.

Asher was sent hurtling backward, his body spinning through the air like a comet, armor trailing sparks. He crashed down nearly a mile away, the force carving a massive crater into the landscape. Dust and smoke shot upward in a towering pillar, masking his figure from sight.

Sirius roared in fury, charging forward like a storm unchained, but even the beast hesitated as the Cyclops stepped forward from the ruin, barely scorched, its single eye glowing brighter than ever.

The monster dragged one of its cleavers across the shattered stone, sending up sparks, as it turned toward the distant crater—toward Asher.

The Blood King had survived the fire. The Blood King had toppled armies.

But now…

He faced a god of war.

The final battle had begun.

…..

A/N: One minute more and I would have missed a day. Thank God!!

By the way, there were issues with the light which is why I fought that deadly battle so close to the deadline