From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 527

"If you want to keep him alive, show me if you're strong enough to do it."

Leander's expression remained indifferent, eyes burning with a steady divine glow as a spiritual blade once again formed above his head.

The newly arrived Demon Hunter's eyes widened in response, his tone grave. "Jeff Ashcroft, you are a warrior of Astria. Back when I served the Church as a Demon Hunter, I had dealings with your nation's Dragon Emperor. I have always held Astrian fighters in high regard.

"I came here tonight only to retrieve my wayward disciple and return him to the Church of the Holy Light for judgment. There is no enmity between us—must we really shed blood over this?"

His hands stayed hidden in his sleeves, showing no intention of fighting. "Besides, by appearing before you, I have already broken the King Phase Accord. If I were to cross blades with you, that would mean openly defying it. That accord was signed long ago by the King Phase powerhouses of both East and West. It represents the highest law of the martial world.

"I have no wish to tear it apart. So please, take one step back. Let me take this traitor with me. I can assure you—once he returns to the Church of the Holy Light, the punishment awaiting him will be far worse than death itself."

The Church of the Holy Light was what remained after the old Church had fallen—its hidden core, formed by the most powerful surviving masters of that ancient order. The "judgment" he spoke of was indeed the Church's supreme punishment for traitors: a ritual of holy fire that burned the soul itself.

Almost every turncoat from the old Church had perished in that inferno, suffering a torment a hundred times worse than death. But that punishment would never be for Neil.

Neil had once been the Church's most gifted prodigy, handpicked by this very mentor, and the chosen bearer of the Ring of the Sage. A talent like his was far too valuable to discard.

The black-robed master had come not to condemn him—but to bring him back, to have him purified by the High Priest's holy light, and reforged as the backbone of a new generation.

His talk of judgment was merely a ploy to avoid direct conflict with Leander. He believed his words would be enough—that Leander would let the matter go and allow Neil to leave. But Leander's gaze remained as icy as before. "No."

He raised a hand, pointing straight at Neil. "I don't need your so-called trial. When I take his head, that will be judgment enough."

The black-robed elder's eyes narrowed, his tone darkening. "Jeff Ashcroft, I have already made myself clear. He is a traitor of the Church, and according to our sacred law, he must face the judgment of the Church of the Holy Light. Why must you insist on meddling in this?"

He gave a low, cold snort, his voice gaining an edge of threat. "I once shared a strong bond with your Dragon Emperor, and I respect you as Astria's rising power. For the sake of the King Phase Accord, I've no wish to raise my hand against you. But don't mistake that for fear."

Leander's lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. "Is that so? The King Phase Accord, your so-called Church trials—just excuses, all of them. You've already violated the accord simply by standing here. Why pretend otherwise? As for your talk of judgment, it's nothing but a stalling tactic to buy him time. Did you really think I wouldn't see through you?"

As his last word fell, the spiritual blade above him vanished into the void—and in the blink of an eye, it reappeared before Neil, slicing downward toward his head.

A piercing hum split the air as the spiritual blade trembled in the void, producing a sharp sonic boom. Neil's expression shifted drastically, but before the strike could land, a burst of holy light swept across the sky, colliding head-on with the incoming air blade.

As the black cloak fell away, the crowd finally caught a glimpse of the mysterious man's true face—a classic Western visage with blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a proud, high-bridged nose. Between his brows was a faint mark of a sacred sword, radiating an aura of holy mystery.

Seeing the blue light surging toward him, the man's eyes narrowed. He didn't retreat. Instead, he met it head-on, his gaze ice-cold. "Since you insist on fighting, so be it. I'll show you what a true Demon Hunter is really capable of."

As his words echoed through the night, he raised his hand. The Ring of the Sage—Neil's ring—shot from the air and landed in his palm, glowing with radiant holy light. In the next instant, he clenched his fist and threw a punch forward.

A massive fist mark, over thirty feet wide, formed in the air, blazing with pure holy light. Its overwhelming power blew the surrounding clouds apart as it collided with Leander's onrushing form.

Neil's eyes widened in awe and shame. He had possessed the Ring of the Sage for nearly 70 years and could only wield half of its true strength. Yet with a single move, his mentor had drawn out twice that power effortlessly.

The holy light fist came crashing down. Leander didn't dodge. He met it head-on, shoulder-first, slamming into it with unstoppable force.

Boom!

A thunderous explosion split the heavens. The blue light shattered in an instant, and Leander's body was hurled backward several steps, skidding across the air before regaining balance. The black-robed man, by contrast, stood utterly still, cloaked in shimmering holy light—like a celestial being untouched by mortal power.