From Ruin to Reign Leander's Unbreakable Will novel Chapter 351

"That's the Abyssal Godblade—the legendary supreme divine weapon! My god, it's a good thing I came this time!"

"Yeah, who would've thought the four major elite families would be this generous, revealing the Abyssal Godblade to everyone?! If I'm lucky, maybe I'll be chosen by it… Maybe I'll become the sovereign of this era!"

"Please, don't kid yourself. The Abyssal Godblade is a weapon of divine rank—only the top of the top could ever be acknowledged by it. With your cultivation as a mere Martial Master, how could you possibly lift it?"

"Oh yeah? And what about you? You're a Martial Master too!"

At the Southern Shore, countless young talents of Astria's martial world were in a stir. The air buzzed with excitement.

The Abyssal Godblade was the divine sword of modern Astria, spoken of in the same breath as the ancient Sword of Aurion. But the Sword of Aurion had always been shrouded in myth, never once seen by mortal eyes.

Fifty years ago, during the martial assembly between the four major elite families, the Abyssal Godblade had been discovered here—at this very shore.

Back then, the four patriarchs had tried to take the sword away, but none could pull it free, not even move it an inch. In the end, they had built a stone dais around it to conceal and protect it, keeping it hidden from the world.

Though the Abyssal Godblade was known throughout Astria's martial world, few had ever actually seen it. No one expected they'd witness its splendor that day.

Daphne and Claire exchanged a glance, their gazes locking on the sword. Claire sighed softly. "So, that's the Abyssal Godblade… truly a weapon of this age. No wonder they call it the supreme divine weapon."

The Autumnveil Blade in her hand—one of the famed swords from the Warring States Era—was already considered peerless, on par with Jesund's Demonrend. Yet even so, she could feel her own sword trembling faintly, as though oppressed by some immense power, almost bowing in submission.

That was the Abyssal Godblade—king among swords. Wherever it appeared, all blades bowed before it.

Ethan's gaze burned as he stared at it, sparks flickering deep in his eyes.

…

The day before, Gareth had told him that the four families had agreed to unveil the Abyssal Godblade during this martial assembly. Whoever could pull the sword free would be hailed as the sovereign of this age—the strongest of all.

Ethan wasn't particularly skilled with the sword, but pulling out the Abyssal Godblade had become his greatest ambition. If he could do it, it would mean he stood on the path to becoming the mightiest of his generation.

Even Gareth, as strong as he was, hadn't been able to make the sword budge 18 years ago. If Ethan could succeed where his father failed, with the Abyssal Godblade's power in his hands and time to master it, even the monstrous talent Jeff Ashcroft wouldn't be beyond his reach.

However, he wasn't the only one with that idea in mind. Tycen, Eira, and even Daphne all shared the same thought: if they could claim the Abyssal Godblade, they could rule the martial world and roam the earth freely.

Everyone's attention was locked on the sword—everyone except Leander, who seemed completely uninterested. He calmly poured himself another serving of refreshment, savoring it as if the entire spectacle meant nothing to him.

"Mr. Ashcroft!"

After Gareth's announcement, a figure suddenly stepped forward. Heads turned, and the crowd recognized him immediately—it was Theo of the Skycrown Sect, one of the Three Brilliants and Four Beauties, second only to Claire among the young swordsmen.

He clasped his hands and spoke loudly. "Mr. Ashcroft, just to confirm—you said whoever can draw the Abyssal Godblade will be its master. Does that mean anyone here may try?"

Gareth took a gander at him and nodded evenly. "That's right."

The crowd erupted again, and Theo's eyes gleamed with excitement. With a bold step, he strode to the sword and stopped before its hilt. "In that case, I'll go first—and clear the way for everyone else."

A murmur ran through the onlookers. Theo gripped the hilt of the Abyssal Godblade tightly.

"Arrrghh!" He shouted, his entire body straining as his feet sank deep into the sand.

Yet, the Abyssal Godblade didn't move an inch, still embedded firmly in the stone pedestal.

"What is this?"

Unwilling to give up, Theo channeled his inner strength. His aura surged to its peak—the full power of an Elite Grandmaster—pouring into his palms as he prepared to make another attempt.

A full minute passed before Theo suddenly raised both hands and staggered back several steps, sweat already beading and rolling down his forehead.

"Hah! So much for Theo trying to steal the spotlight—ended up making a fool of himself instead!"

"Exactly! Among the Nine Geniuses, Theo doesn't even rank in the top three, and he thinks the Abyssal Godblade would acknowledge him? Fat chance!"

Whispers rippled through the crowd. Theo's face flushed red. After a brief salute toward Gareth, he slipped back into the crowd, his pride clearly stung.

The first challenger had failed.

"Well then," a new voice called out. "Since Theo's already tried, I, Kian Hart, should at least give it a shot."

Kian, another of the Three Brilliants and a disciple of the Stonepeak Sect, stepped forward confidently. He placed one palm firmly on the hilt of the sword.

Three minutes later, his face had turned pale, and his shirt was drenched in sweat. With a guilty expression, he too retreated.

Another failure.

Gareth and the other three patriarchs of the elite families remained seated, calm and unbothered. Ever since they had agreed to reveal the Abyssal Godblade to the world, they had prepared themselves for the possibility that someone might one day take it away—or that no one ever could.

One after another, several among the Three Brilliants and Four Beauties stepped up to try their luck, yet each attempt ended the same way—in failure. Even a few young Elite Grandmasters who fancied themselves above the rest walked up with confidence and left defeated.

…

An hour passed. Out of the hundreds of young martial elites gathered, only a handful had yet to attempt—Ethan, Tycen, Eira, Daphne, and Claire.

All eyes turned toward them. To everyone present, if there was anyone left who could possibly be recognized by the Abyssal Godblade, it had to be one of these five.

At last, Tycen of the O'Brien family stepped forward. His gaze hardened, and mist began to swirl around his right hand, condensing into the shape of a massive handprint, as though a giant glove of inner strength had formed over his own.

"That's the O'Brien family's secret martial art—the Perfect Hand!" someone exclaimed while many gasped in marvel.

"Power of the dragon—rise!"

With a roar, he unleashed everything he had. The ground beneath him split in a violent explosion, sending waves of sand and dust flying. The blast engulfed him completely, forcing Daphne and the others to leap backward as their hearts trembled.

"Did he succeed?" someone gasped.

No one else had caused such a commotion. The moment the ground split apart, nearly everyone believed Ethan had done it—that the Abyssal Godblade had finally chosen its master.

"As expected, the Ashcroft family truly is heaven's chosen! Ethan is the rightful heir to the Abyssal Godblade!"

The younger generation murmured in awe, their faces filled with admiration and disbelief. Tycen and the others, meanwhile, looked grim and defeated. Even among the prodigies of the age, it seemed Ethan alone had been deemed worthy—or so they thought.

The sea breeze gradually cleared the lingering dust, and Ethan's figure came back into view. The crowd froze, their expressions twisting into shock.

"What… How is that possible?"

Ethan himself stood motionless, face pale, eyes wide in disbelief. He had unleashed the Ashcroft family's ultimate technique, poured every ounce of inner strength into the strike—yet the Abyssal Godblade hadn't moved an inch.

He staggered back a few steps, staring at his own trembling hands, mind blank. He had always believed himself to be the chosen one, at least 60% confident he could pull the blade free. But the truth was merciless—it hadn't even acknowledged him.

"Even Ethan failed…"

A heavy silence fell. Not a single person spoke.

Gareth and the other patriarchs could only shake their heads, sighing deeply.

Eighteen years ago, no one had been able to draw the Abyssal Godblade. Now, 18 years later, even with the finest talents of Astria gathered here, the result remained unchanged.

"Could it be," Gareth murmured, looking up at the sky, "that no one in this world is fated to wield the Abyssal Godblade?"

Leander, who had been quietly sipping his beverage all this while, drained his cup and glanced up, amusement flickering in his eyes as they drifted toward the sword. He was genuinely curious—what sort of divine artifact could defy every genius who tried to claim it?

At that moment, the long-silent Abyssal Godblade suddenly sang. The clear ring of its sword cry echoed across the beach.

Gasps erupted as a thunderous crack split the air. The sand and stones around the sword pedestal exploded outward, and a surge of blue light shot into the sky. A blinding beam pierced the heavens before collapsing into a single streak that plummeted straight down—landing in the sand just half a foot from where Leander sat.

Every gaze snapped toward him, eyes wide.

Leander chuckled softly, utterly unruffled, and reached out to grasp the hilt. A thunderous dragon's roar erupted, shaking the sea and sky. Waves crashed backward as the tide recoiled, spraying foam into the air.

The Abyssal Godblade—the weapon that no one had been able to move—rose easily in Leander's hand. Its blade gleamed with a piercing blue light, edges so clear they were nearly transparent, brilliance radiating in all directions.

For a heartbeat, the entire shore fell silent. Not a single breath could be heard. The world itself seemed to hold still as the Abyssal Godblade finally found its master.