Khaedor's chest was blown straight through by Leander's punch, his body erupting into flames and disintegrating on the spot.
The moment Leander's gaze swept across the group, everyone recoiled instinctively and fell into utter silence.
"What kind of punch was that?"
Halia stood frozen, her eyes darting restlessly.
No one understood Khaedor's abilities better than she did. With her current cultivation, defeating him was nothing more than a fantasy she never dared entertain.
That was why Khaedor consistently held first place, while she could only remain second.
As a half-Blood Clan hybrid, Khaedor carried the inherited might of the Blood Clan. Once he awakened his vampiric body, his wings turned into hardened, blade-like weapons. But even with that monstrous strength, he failed to lay a scratch on Leander.
Leander tore those wings apart with nothing but his hands—then ended Khaedor with a single strike.
She simply couldn't comprehend how Leander achieved such overwhelming force. That punch carried a blazing, obliterating fire. And she, a fire-type metahuman, was leagues beneath that level.
Leander's cold gaze swept over them again. No one dared respond. Even a few experts in the Transcendent Realm staggered backward, unable to steady their breathing.
More than twenty people were present, over a dozen ranked on the International Combat Units list, yet every one of them stood rigid, breath caught in their throats.
Khaedor was brutally strong, and Nicholas—body-tempering commander of the Bloodthorn Mercenaries—was also a powerhouse. Together, their teamwork alone was terrifying. But Leander eliminated both of them.
None of them had the courage left to defy someone capable of such power.
A relic certainly held value, but staying alive mattered more.
"He just suppressed the entire rankings by himself?"
Seth inhaled sharply, completely shaken.
The Armored Duo exchanged a wary glance and lowered their proud heads without hesitation.
Leander had once clashed with the Shadow Division, and although the positive and negative chiefs eventually smoothed the conflict over, plenty of elites still held a grudge. They believed Leander was too conceited. The twins had been part of that group.
But now, all of that resentment had to be swallowed. In this world, power overshadowed everything. Leander's strength was enough to disregard the Shadow Division entirely. Even if he acted distant and untouchable, none of them had the right to criticize him.
That was what true power meant—power dictated the rules.
With just one glance, Leander pressured everyone present into submission. Then, he shifted his attention toward the Flame Goddess, Halia. "Halia, are you still planning to fight me?"
Her expression froze. After a tense moment, she forced a stiff, strained smile.
"You must be joking, Sovereign Ashcroft. With the way you killed Khaedor in one blow, even if we all joined forces, who among us would dare challenge you?"
Her words sounded like flattery, but they were simply the truth.
Leander had blown Khaedor apart. He had now claimed the top spot on the International Combat Units list. No one here could match him.
"You know when to bow to the wind."
Leander let out a faint smirk before turning toward Seth.
"I know Mr. Gardner. Since I've already taken action today, I'll extend Shadow Division a favor as well."
His voice deepened, and a chilling killing intent seeped outward.
"From this moment forward, none of you are allowed to run rampant in Astria.
"If anyone causes trouble here—and I encounter you—I'll kill you on the spot. No exceptions. Understand?"
Faces tightened throughout the crowd. Leander was effectively placing limits on every ranked powerhouse present, and for people accustomed to standing above the masses, his command felt suffocating. Yet no one was willing to accept it.
But Leander's strength left them no room to argue. No one dared speak. They could only stand rigidly as the atmosphere grew heavier and darker.
"Well said, Iron Sovereign, Jeff Ashcroft!"
A booming laugh echoed from the distance, slicing through the tense air.
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