From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 383

Dorian pointed a finger straight at Leander, his eyes flashing cold light, a commanding aura rolling off him like a storm.

Behind Leander, Nathan and the other two unconsciously took a step back. The weight of Dorian's military presence alone was enough to make their spines stiffen.

"Wait—that's the major general from the Northern Military District… Dorian Riverstone?"

"It really is him!"

Among the crowd were plenty of seasoned onlookers, and several had already recognized the pillar of the Riverstone family.

"They say Dorian controls a tenth of the Northern Military District's military affairs—his authority's enormous. Even the provincial governor gives him leeway. And now he's here, personally, with armed troops? Looks like he's come to demand justice for his two sons."

"Of course he has. Those two are his only sons, and both were crippled by that young man. No matter how steady Dorian's temper is, no father could swallow that."

The whispers swelled into a low murmur of alarm. Dorian's presence alone, flanked by so many armed soldiers, made it clear—this was no casual visit.

Corin exhaled in relief the instant Dorian appeared. Facing someone like Leander, who had once thrown Quincy off Westvale Peak without a second thought, he'd been trembling. But now that a major general was here—one commanding an entire division and backed by live ammunition—Leander's arrogance would have to meet its limit. Surely, this time, he wouldn't dare strike again.

Beside Leander, Yvette's expression hardened. Her brows drew tight.

Leander might be unmatched in strength, but as far as she knew, he had never crossed paths with the government or the military—much less someone of this rank.

A major general was no ordinary title. In Astria, men like Dorian Riverstone carried immense power; to use force against one wasn't just reckless—it was tantamount to challenging the dignity of the entire military.

No individual, no matter how powerful, could stand against a nation.

Yet while Yvette's chest knotted with worry, Leander remained still as stone, his gaze calm and unreadable.

Even with a major general standing before him, his face didn't waver. He looked up slightly, his tone as even as ever.

"So, the Riverstones really do have some pull—sending a major general over a grudge."

He paused, his voice faint but cutting. "What now? You've come to avenge Quincy and Skelly? Is this how the Riverstone family gets its way?"

He spoke as though the rifles aimed at him didn't exist.

Dorian's eyes narrowed, the cold in them deepening.

"Impressive," he said slowly. "I've met plenty of promising young men in my life—but none this arrogant.

"In all of Highcliffe, even the heirs of the four major elite families wouldn't dare stand openly against my family. I'm curious—what gives you the confidence to do something so insane?"

The question rippled through the crowd. Ever since word spread that Quincy and Skelly Riverstone had been thrown off Westvale Peak, Highcliffe had been in uproar. But no one knew what the culprit truly relied on—what kind of backing it took to defy the Riverstones so brazenly.

After all, even the children of Astria's most powerful figures wouldn't dare go that far.

Leander's reply was calm, almost lazy.

"What gives me the right? The fact that they barged in without knowing their place. I don't go easy on people like that."

He glanced at Dorian, unflinching. "Throwing them off Westvale Peak was mercy. If I'd chosen to kill them on the spot—so what?"

A stunned silence fell.

Dozens of rifles were locked on him, a single command away from turning him into a corpse. Yet Leander spoke without fear, his words ringing through the air like thunder.

Even against the muzzle of an army, his arrogance burned brighter than ever.

"How insolent!"

Dorian's roar cracked through the air as he raised his hand—then slammed it down like a gavel.

"Cuff him! Bring him in for trial!"

At once, every soldier surged forward, ready to subdue Leander.

…

Inside the intensive care unit, Quincy finally stirred. His eyelids fluttered open, and the faint beeping of monitors filled the sterile air.

"Quincy! You're finally awake!"

Logan rushed to his grandson's bedside. When he saw the once-proud young man lying pale and broken, his heart clenched. A tear—thick and heavy—slipped down his weathered cheek.

"Grandpa…"

Quincy's voice was weak, his face twisting as pain shot through every limb.

"Don't talk, Quincy. Don't move. You need to rest."

Logan's tone softened, but his eyes darkened with murderous rage.

"Don't worry. Your father's already leading the men to deal with that lunatic. You and Skelly will get justice. The Riverstones won't let this go."

Quincy froze, his eyes snapping open.

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