From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 505

Leander? Jeff? The moment the siblings casually dropped the name of the Southern Wyvern Blade's Chief Instructor, Maeve almost laughed out loud. That was him. Of course it was Leander.

She was taken aback for a moment—never in her wildest thoughts had she imagined that the man she knew so well carried such a staggering identity—leading the legendary Southern Wyvern Blade, and accomplishing feats that seemed almost mythic.

And yet, as she watched the sisters' eyes shimmer with reverence and longing while speaking of the Chief Instructor, the memory of their earlier, scathing critique of Leander made her lips curl into a mischievous smile. The irony of it all was delicious.

"Jeff… he's really that formidable?" Her tone was casual, but her curiosity was deliberate, waiting to gauge the twins' reaction.

Zara didn't hesitate. "Formidable? That doesn't even begin to cover it. He's not just strong—he's a living legend, a god of the martial world. No one even comes close! Back in the Southern Wyvern Blade, he stood before every member and deputy, over 328 feet away, and with one palm shattered a copper cauldron weighing over a thousand pounds.

"And at Hawksridge Summit in Ravenridge, he alone obliterated a Martial Sovereign who had dominated Astria for fifty years, alongside a legendary swordsman who had crossed the seas from Jesund.

"Over the Stormcairn River, he dueled the Tarlyn Guild Patriarch midair—tossing the river into chaos—and finally cut the old master down on the water itself! Even across the Southern Ocean, he faced eleven Transcendents single-handedly—every last one of them fell. The War God Sanctum? Completely annihilated."

Listening to her reel off one unbelievable exploit after another, Maeve felt her mind grind to a halt. Even though she already knew who Leander truly was, hearing his achievements laid out like this made her feel as if she were learning about a completely different being—something carved out of myth rather than flesh.

In just a handful of months, his strength hadn't merely grown—it had mutated into something monstrous, something that no longer fit within the limits of ordinary human power. He'd become a creature of pure legend.

Maeve had once comforted herself. She had spent months climbing her own mountain, rising to the pinnacle of international fame—an icon adored worldwide. She thought that she could at least narrow the distance between them. Now she realized she wasn't even on the same continent. That gap was an abyss.

"One month ago," Zara continued, her voice filled with fervor, "he seized the top spot on the International Combat Units. Not just first place—he became the strongest individual ever recorded since the list was created.

"And just days ago, in the capital, he annihilated an entire squad of Netherweb assassins by himself. Over a hundred killers died that night, including the infamous 'Blood Demon.' The world still hasn't recovered from the shock."

She exhaled in awe, shaking her head slowly. "To call him powerful is pointless now. Our Chief Instructor exists on a plane we can't even reach. He's stepped into a realm where language simply fails."

Zara spoke with an unmistakable awe, every syllable shimmering with admiration. Her eyes glittered as if she were watching those legendary events unfold right in front of her rather than hearing them recounted.

Beside her, Liana's gaze sparkled as she added, "Maeve, you've never stepped into the martial world, so it's almost impossible to picture the scale of the man we're talking about."

She gestured lightly, as though trying to capture the enormity of it. "There's a reason the Southern Wyvern Blade follows him without a murmur of resistance. And only he has the kind of presence that would compel General Leon—the one who controls military command across four entire states—would personally rewrite protocol just to extend exclusive privileges to him."

Her voice softened into reverence. "To us, he's more than a commander. He's the Warlord who lifted Astria to the peak of the martial world. Because he exists, every major power on the global stage watches Astria before they dare make a move."

Maeve snapped out of her astonishment at last, and when she caught sight of the sisters looking as if they were moments away from building a shrine, amusement rippled through her chest.

The pair remained blissfully unaware of the smile tugging at her mouth. Instead, Liana launched into a wistful groan. "You know what still annoys me?" she said. "Zara and I showed up just a little too late."

"If fate had nudged us toward the Southern Wyvern Blade a single week earlier," she continued, "we wouldn't have missed his rise in full blaze—or that thunderous clash on the Stormcairn River that the whole world keeps retelling like a legend."

Maeve bit back her laughter, her tone dipping into playful mystery. "Liana, Zara, why sound so defeated? For all you know, the chance you're moping about might still come around. Or—who can say—you might've already crossed paths with him without realizing it."

The sisters dismissed the idea at once, hands flicking in sync. "Maeve, you make it sound far too easy," Zara said with a helpless little laugh.

Maeve merely curved her lips in a knowing smile, offering no reply. After all—Jeff Ashcroft, the unconquered Iron Sovereign, the undisputed number one on the International Combat Units list… honestly, who could possibly outshine him?

Within the Southern Wyvern Blade, Leander was already the stuff of legend. Every recruit was taught his title and reputation, but no image, no age—strict rules forbade it. As the organization's lifelong Chief Instructor, his personal information was classified to the extreme.

Even seasoned members weren't allowed to reveal them. That was why the sisters never considered the possibility—they simply couldn't make the connection. It was almost laughable—running into a brash, overconfident young man at a hotel and imagining he could be the very force that shakes the world.

Maeve watched the twins remain oblivious, and she let them be. A sly sense of anticipation flickered in her chest. If Liana and Zara ever realized that the Chief Instructor they revered was the very same Leander they had just dismissed, the look on their faces would be priceless.

…

In the eastern district of Yelem, a colossal building in a western style towered above the streets, imposing and solemn like a cathedral carved from stone.

Denzel, bloodied and fierce, moved with the grace and speed of a stalking leopard. He raced through the streets and vaulted over the towering walls. He reached the third floor directly, entering an expansive hall.

There, at the far end, a middle-aged man wearing a white cap stood with his hands folded behind his back, emanating quiet, unshakable authority.

"Dad!" Denzel summoned his innate vitality, and the blood coating his face vanished into steam. His wounds knit together at an astonishing pace, closing fully as he stepped up to stand beside the middle-aged figure.

The man's eyes lingered on the healing scars for a moment, yet he remained silent. He raised a finger, directing it toward the distant horizon, where the tallest cathedral in Yelem pierced the skyline several miles away. His voice was sharp, carrying authority and weight.

"Your great-great-grandfather has returned."