From Ruin to Reign Leander's Unbreakable Will novel Chapter 372

Inside the glass tank, a young man floated motionless. His chest was bare, his muscles tight and sculpted like carved stone.

The crimson liquid around him shimmered faintly, pulsing like it was alive. It flowed into his skin and out again, over and over, as if the fluid itself breathed with him.

His face was striking and unnervingly perfect. Every feature looked carved by purpose, too symmetrical to be human. His eyes stayed closed, his expression empty, like he was lost in a dream too deep to escape.

"Son of Judgment."

Reefus muttered the words under his breath. Inside the Arbitration Office, countless ranks existed, far beyond what the world knew.

There were thirty-six Chief Arbiters like him. Above them sat sixteen Supreme Arbiters. Yet between them stood something rarer—a being beyond comparison, known only as the Son of Judgment.

Each Son of Judgment was chosen personally by the Chief Arbitrator. Once chosen, he underwent a rebirth that no ordinary human could endure. He was submerged in a mixture of Doomlight and the blood of three hundred sacrificed children, his body reforged until it became a living weapon.

The last Son of Judgment had died years ago, struck down in battle against Astria's Dragon Emperor. The young man floating now was his successor.

Reefus had heard of him three years ago. Out of hundreds of candidates trained from childhood, this one had stood above all others. His talent was terrifying.

At an age when most men were still students, he had already entered the Martial Sovereign stage, thanks to the help of Doomlight and all Supreme Arbiters. Soon after, he had volunteered for the ritual, the one where he would bathe in the blood of sacrificed children.

He had been in that chamber ever since. Three years of silence. Three years of blood and light.

Reefus turned away from the tank and looked toward the sixteen thrones of ice lined up across the dark hall.

"Your Highnesses," he said quietly, "the Son of Judgment still sleeps. He hasn't absorbed all the power within the blood. Shouldn't we wait before sending him against Jeff?"

A low laugh came from the shadows.

"Reefus, there is nothing to fear.

"He has already taken in most of the blood's power. Only the last spark remains."

A dark figure on one of the thrones leaned forward. The light from his black robe flickered like fire trapped under ice.

"He was supposed to awaken in another month. But since this Jeff Ashcroft keeps testing our patience, we'll bring his awakening forward."

The man raised his hand.

A deep rumble filled the air.

The liquid inside the tank began to surge. It bubbled and twisted violently, glowing brighter as it churned. Steam rolled across the floor.

The red liquid thinned with every pulse, burning away until only a thin layer was left.

Then, all at once, the young man's eyes snapped open.

Two flashes of light burst out from his pupils.

The glass tank shattered in a single thunderous crack, shards flying across the room.

Through the mist and drifting smoke, heavy footsteps echoed. The young man stepped out of the haze. His skin gleamed faintly red, as if lit from within. His gaze was cold, sharp, and filled with faint traces of bloodlight.

Reefus felt the weight of the air crush around him. His heart pounded. He forced his breath steady, bowed low, and spoke with respect.

"Chief Arbitrator of the Fourteenth Division," he said. "I greet you, Son of Judgment."

The young man didn't reply. He only nodded slightly. His power still lagged behind Reefus', but his presence pressed down with absolute authority.

This was the Son of Judgment—the weapon born to stand beside the Supreme Arbiters. Even those ranked above him in strength would kneel before his title.

"Of course." His voice was flat, but it carried command. He turned toward the icy thrones and knelt on one knee.

Silence fell again as he turned from the thrones and walked past Reefus. His bare feet tapped against the cold floor until he vanished through the great doors.

Reefus frowned. His gut twisted with doubt. He looked back at the frozen thrones and asked carefully, "Your Highness, are you certain he can defeat Jeff?"

A cold snarl echoed through the chamber. "Reefus, do not forget who he is.

"For three years, the Water of Judgment and the blood of the sacrificed have become one with his soul. Beneath the King Phase, he is invincible."

Reefus froze, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"What? He's invincible as long as King Phase and above don't show up?"

He turned toward the massive doors where the young man had just left. His pulse quickened. His expression twisted in shock as he stared at the empty hall.

The youth stepped out of the dark palace and raised one hand. A blood-red cloak flew through the air and wrapped around his shoulders. Against his tall frame, it flowed like liquid fire, fierce and regal.

"Jeff Ashcroft," he murmured.

He turned his head toward the eastern sky. His eyes narrowed, and a killing light gleamed in their depths.

"You'll be the first step beneath my feet. The first name that makes the world remember me."

He pressed one foot to the ground. The stone cracked. A violent shockwave erupted beneath him, tearing through the courtyard. The earth shattered in every direction, sending shards of rock flying into the air.

In the next heartbeat, his body vanished. Only a streak of blood-red light shot across the heavens, racing east toward the distant horizon.

Thousands of miles away, Leander stood inside Durham Abbey. The quiet hum of the wind filled the hall. He was about to visit Lydia when his steps suddenly faltered.

He turned his head sharply toward the western sky. "Hm?" His eyes narrowed, and a strange chill rippled through his chest. It wasn't pain. It was instinct, deep and primal, like the moment before lightning struck. He felt it in his bones—someone powerful was coming for him. His nemesis.