From Ruin to Reign Leander's Unbreakable Will novel Chapter 376

Leander's palm looked harmless—like a breeze brushing across a field. But when it struck, the air around them shattered like glass.

A brilliant light burst through the hall. A circular tunnel of energy spiraled open in midair, glowing and immense, as if someone had torn a hole in the world.

Homer's calm face twisted in shock. A wall of crushing force rolled toward him, heavy as a mountain, unstoppable as an avalanche.

He gasped, stunned. How could someone so young—barely in his twenties—carry such terrifying power?

Panic surged through him. His instincts screamed. He poured every ounce of his strength into his counterstrike, his inner vitality roaring through his veins like fire.

He thrust his palm forward, meeting the blow head-on.

A thunderous crash ripped through the air. The whole of Durham Abbey shook violently. Dust fell from the rafters. Tourists outside turned toward the temple, their faces full of confusion and fear.

A blur of motion shot through the doorway—a body hurled through the air like a cannonball. Shockwaves burst beneath his feet as he fought to steady himself midair, every step cracking the air around him.

Inside, the meditation hall stood untouched. Luna and Janey could only stare, frozen in disbelief.

Even Lydia, who had prepared herself for this, felt her breath catch. She had heard the stories—how Leander once wiped out eleven Transcendent Realm warriors alone in the Southern Ocean. But seeing it with her own eyes was another thing entirely. The calm young man she knew now radiated raw power that shook her to her core.

Quincy stood motionless. The arrogance in his posture had vanished. His chest tightened as cold realization settled in.

Homer—the man who had once ranked eleventh among the International Combat Units, a master whose Burning Stage cultivation was revered across the world—had just been defeated in a single move.

Leander hadn't even stood up. He sat cross-legged, unmoving, his breathing steady, not a single mark on him.

The image branded itself into Quincy's mind like a scar. He couldn't comprehend what he had just witnessed.

Then, from outside, a furious roar shook the sky. "Who are you?"

The voice thundered across the mountain range. The very air trembled. Everyone in Durham Abbey heard it.

Tourists outside looked up in terror.

Above the temple, Homer hovered in midair. His robes whipped wildly in the wind, his presence towering like a storm god.

But his face was twisted with rage. Blood streaked down from the corner of his mouth. His breath came sharp and uneven, and his hands trembled from pain.

"Mommy, what's that?" a small boy cried, tugging on his mother's sleeve.

"Is that a superhero?"

The woman beside him stood frozen, unable to speak.

Inside the temple, Leander rested calmly against the wall, unmoved. "You took my palm and got hurt," he said softly. "Which means this isn't over."

His voice carried clearly through the room. "Tonight, I'll visit the Riverstone estate myself. For now, leave."

He tilted his head, a faint smile forming on his lips. The Riverstone family had caught his interest. Homer's power had surpassed even Ares and Enderman, both men he had already slain. For a family to produce someone stronger than them meant their reach extended beyond any of the four great houses.

He wanted to see for himself how far their power went.

From above, Homer's voice came down like frost.

"There's no need to wait until tonight."

His eyes burned with fury, and his voice cut through the clouds.

"I was careless before. That won't happen again. You've made an enemy of the Riverstone family. That means you've made an enemy of me."

The sound of his challenge boomed across the sky. "Do you dare face me outside?" His voice echoed over the mountain, heavy and cold, while the people below stared upward, pale with disbelief.

He'd dared to strike the abbey where Lydia had lived in peace for nine long years. That was something Leander couldn't forgive.

A violent gust roared beneath his feet. Dust burst upward as he launched himself into the sky.

Homer's eyes widened.

A fist filled his vision, growing larger and larger.

He clenched his jaw and brought his arms up in defense.

"Twin Extremities!" he shouted.

The Great Balance—Mount Martial's most sacred art. Created centuries ago by the sage who founded the mountain, the style had been passed down through generations, evolving into a discipline that even the weak could master.

Homer had once been its top instructor. His mastery was absolute. The twin extremities' energies wrapped around his arms, one hard, one soft, both balanced perfectly. He divided Leander's attack into thirteen separate forces and dissolved them effortlessly.

Leander paused. A flicker of respect passed through his eyes.

"So, you really are from Mount Martial," he said quietly. "That explains a lot." A faint smile touched his lips, his tone softening for a moment.

"Funny thing," he said. "The path I walk now—my own martial art—was born from Mount Martial's teachings. The Great Balance showed me how the world turns."

He tilted his head slightly, his voice darkening again. "Because of that, I'll give you one last chance. Leave now, and I'll let you live."

His eyes sharpened. The warmth in them vanished.

"If you stay," he said coldly, "you die."

The air seemed to stop moving. Even the wind went still. The mountain waited in silence.