From Ruin to Reign Leander's Unbreakable Will novel Chapter 462

Seth and the rest lifted their eyes to the heavens. The so-called big shots from the International Combat Units—guys who normally strutted around like kings—were all wearing that same shaken, ghosted stare.

Even Halia, proud to a fault, retreated on instinct. She pressed herself to the cliff face and kept her mouth shut.

A crushing force smothered the entire valley. Twelve silhouettes stood suspended in midair, like they owned both sky and earth.

Twelve Chief Arbitrators.

Just seeing them together was enough to make your scalp go cold.

The Arbitration Office had twenty-four Chief Arbitrators in total. With Reefus and Orianna already taken out by Leander, and Jeframon having burned away his own soul, that number dropped to twenty-one.

And now, more than half of what was left had appeared in a single sweep.

Twelve Chief Arbitrators like this could make any powerhouse nation tense up. Showing up as a group, it felt like the Arbitration Office had unleashed its second line of monsters.

With a whoosh, a spear of fire cut through first, clearly the vanguard. It ballooned into a roaring sun of flame, so hot the air warped and wailed. In the heart of it stood a woman's curvy outline, relaxed as if she were strolling through a garden.

Her blaze was tighter, brighter, far heavier than Halia's. The heat she gave off rolled over the valley like a runaway kiln.

One lazy glance from her felt like it could snag your soul. Even those iron-willed ranked elites felt their hearts stutter, nearly slipping the second she showed herself.

"Wait… that's the Flame Witch?"

Halia gaped at the alluring figure, all the color draining from her face.

Flame Witch—that was the title people truly feared. They called Halia the Flame Goddess, which sounded grander on paper, but she wasn't fooling herself.

Ten of her stacked together still wouldn't touch the Flame Witch.

They were both fire-element metahumans, sure, but the distance between them was a canyon.

The Flame Witch's fire was born from an ancient source hidden in the western mountains—The Blaze. Its strength and eerie nature were on a level Halia couldn't even compare to.

The Flame Witch lifted her gaze and fixed it on Leander. Her voice was smooth as honey, yet cold enough to cut. "So, you killed Reefus… and the others?"

Leander didn't blink. His eyes stayed flat and frosty.

He didn't bother replying.

He only curved his lips. "So, Jeframon burned his soul to pin a portal down and drag you here quicker. To take me out, he really emptied his whole chest, huh."

The corners of his mouth still held that easy smile. Staring down Twelve Chief Arbitrators, he looked bored, not scared.

"What?" The Flame Witch's eyes narrowed to slits. "You're… Jeff Ashcroft?"

The instant her words landed, the other eleven Chief Arbitrators went still as well. Every gaze snapped to Leander. Murderous intent gathered, thick and suffocating, like a storm rolling in.

"So what if I am?"

Leander replied like it was nothing, hands folded behind him as he faced all twelve without blinking.

"You really took down Reefus and the other two?"

The Flame Witch's gaze sharpened, faint surprise flickering in her eyes.

Leander's name carried just as much weight in the Arbitration Office as any of theirs. Almost every top-ranked fighter there had heard of him.

Not only because he was their number-one execution target, but because his strength was terrifying.

The Arbitration Office had stood for centuries, watching kingdoms rise and collapse. Every major conflict in history had their shadow behind it.

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