From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 552

"At last, it's him," the Infernal Crown Transcendent master murmured the words, yet every Transcendent Realm master around him caught them clearly. Power sharpened their hearing far beyond that of normal men.

Heads turned at once—respect mixed with disbelief.

"Mr. Shaffer, you recognize him?" one asked.

Odron Shaffer, nineteenth on the International Combat Units list and known as the Rage Lion, no longer exuded the menace of a predator. His throat felt constricted, and his breath was short, as though an unseen force was choking him. Remaining airborne became impossible. He fell directly to the ground.

The others followed without hesitation, all eyes on him as they awaited his response.

Odom took a deep breath, gazed at the distant sound enveloped in blue light, and finally forced the truth from his lips. "He's Jeff Ashcroft. Ranked number one on the International Combat Units list, the most powerful man ever to live—the Iron Sovereign."

A wave of sharp breaths cut through the crowd. Silence crashed down like a heavy curtain.

Odron stayed frozen, eyes fixed on the blue-lit silhouette. His mind was pulled back to a nightmare he would never forget—the Aorinth Peaks.

Back then, almost all the names on the International Combat Units list had assembled. The only two missing were the King of Thunder, ranked fourteenth, and the Sword Master of Yamora, fifteenth. Khaedor, the God of Madness, had led the group with Halia, the Flame Goddess. They planned to assault the core area and await the awakening of an ancient relic.

One command from Leander had shut everything down.

At that time, Leander was ranked fifth. Odron did not fear him; instead, pride swelled within him.

Let him offend everyone, he had thought. With Khaedor and Halia around, what can he really do?

That smug fantasy had shattered in moments.

Halia had suffered several brutal blows before she fled in panic. Khaedor had lost even more. In front of all the masters present, Leander ripped the Blood Clan wings from his back with his bare hands. Nicholas, the leader of the Bloodthorn Mercenaries, also died alongside him.

Then, fifteen Chief Arbitrators from the Arbitration Office had descended together.

Leander had faced all of them alone.

Every single one had fallen.

That battle had crowned him number one on the list. No rival, no equal.

From that moment, Odron took a strict oath: never to cross Jeff Ashcroft, regardless of the reason.

Fear once dominated his heart, but now his feelings surpassed mere fear—what he felt was reverence.

His mind shouted.

A single slash extending almost a thousand feet. One strike instantly destroyed ten supersonic fighter jets. What kind of monster can do that? Who could face such madness? Even a King Phase master stepping into this chaos might not do any better.

His eyes swept across the battlefield.

Outside the town, bodies lay stacked like broken dolls. Tank shells were torn into twisted scraps. Helicopter blades stuck out of the sand at uneven angles. The ground clearly showed signs of total destruction.

On the way here, Odron had believed two nations were clashing in the Sahar Wastes.

Now the truth was clear before him.

This was not war; it was Jeff Ashcroft.

That crescent air blade still burned in his mind. In a century of battles, Odron had never seen a weapon so terrifying. Even laser cannons looked like toys beside it.

In the past, a few King Phase masters had faced armies, but most of those battles involved no more than a few hundred infantry. That was nothing compared to what Leander confronted now—an entire special operations brigade built for modern combat. Only a handful had ever dared challenge the great powers of their age, and every one of them had been crushed by overwhelming firepower, erased from the field, and lost to history.

Leander had achieved the impossible. He had boldly entered modern warfare and emerged victorious.

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