From Ruin to Reign Leander's Unbreakable Will novel Chapter 463

Every gaze zeroed in on Leander. Twelve Chief Arbitrators loomed above him like a descending tempest. A lineup like that could level a small nation before anyone even blinked.

He had taken down three Chief Arbitrators earlier—an unbelievable feat on its own.

But twelve?

No one in their right mind thought he still had a chance.

To everyone watching, he had only one logical option: swallow his pride for now, step back, play along… then think of something later.

Because if he said one wrong word, all twelve would strike at once.

He’d be crushed before he could take a second breath.

Three against twelve wasn’t just a difference in headcount.

It was a gulf in absolute strength.

The whole crowd watched in suffocating silence. Above, the twelve Chief Arbitrators hovered like divine judges, waiting for his decision.

"Join you?" Leander let out a low chuckle. "I’ve already answered that more than once. In this entire world, there isn’t a single faction I’d bow to.

"I fight for myself—and for my homeland. You expect me to kneel to your Arbitration Office and help you terrorize the world? Keep dreaming."

His gaze sharpened into blades. He swept his eyes across the twelve, lips curling in a sharp, mocking grin.

"Enough talking. Since Jeframon burned his soul just to open that gate and drag you here… why would I waste his effort?"

He lifted his hand lazily, giving the twelve a smile dripping with contempt.

"Come at me together. Dead men walking don’t get to negotiate—no matter how many of you show up."

Silence slammed across the valley. Faces went slack.

He was really about to fight twelve Chief Arbitrators alone?

That wasn’t courage—that was pure lunacy.

Worse, he wasn’t even pretending to respect them.

He flat-out called them dead men.

How bold could one man be?

"Jeff Ashcroft, you must be sick of living!"

The Flame Witch’s stare turned glacial. Flames surged beneath her feet, her robes rising in the heatless wind, her pupils like frozen crystal.

Beside her, Edis—the Master of the Fable Court—flicked his coat aside. A fist slid out of his sleeve, gleaming with killing power.

Dholous, the Son of Europa, lifted the Sword of Light to his chest, ready to carve a path through the air.

And the remaining nine were no less terrifying.

Their life force pulsed like ocean tides, depths impossible to measure.

Give them even the tiniest opening, and they would unleash a strike capable of ripping Leander apart.

His answer had completely wiped out whatever patience they had left.

"Enough talking." Leander’s voice stayed level.

During the fight with Reefus and the other two, he had already sensed it—the spiritual energy inside the Bloodjadea leaves was reaching its eruption point.

And a treasure like that, once it peaked, would quickly lose its potency.

If he dragged this out, he’d miss the perfect moment to gather it.

He couldn’t afford delays.

Even facing twelve Chief Arbitrators, he needed to finish this quickly.

The moment the words left his mouth, he didn’t wait for anyone to react—he moved first.

His figure shot upward, wind exploding around him. He streaked into the sky like a bolt of deep-blue lightning, aiming straight for the Chief Arbitrator standing in front.

"Hmph!"

The man in front wore a short-sleeved shirt, bronze muscles bare and bulging. He was a notch stronger than Reefus and the other two combined.

Seeing Leander charge, he didn’t dodge—he just snorted and threw a punch.

The air split into thin, jagged seams.

A massive fist shadow—over a hundred feet wide—filled the heavens and slammed toward the blue streak like a mountain collapsing.

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