From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 543

Clang!

A heavy tank was cleaved in half by Leander's Dragonfire. He grabbed the two massive steel remnants with one hand and tossed them into the surrounding soldiers, sending them sprawling. Blood and flesh flew in every direction.

With this single strike, nearly a hundred lives were lost instantly.

"Since you made me your target and lured me here, I don't mind playing along!"

Leander's eyes were cold and sharp. Tilting his head slightly, he leaped straight into the crowd. With a single wave of his hand, nearly a hundred men were swept away as if hit by a hurricane.

Blood splattered all over, their life forces flickering out before anyone could react.

These Sahar Wastes, normally fierce and battle-hardened, recoiled as if they had seen a ghost. None dared approach him. Yet, the more they retreated, the closer Leander seemed to follow, moving through the main formation. Every strike of his palm reduced dozens of men to nothing but shredded bodies.

"B*stard! Attack now!"

The commander, stationed inside a tank, watched Leander harvest lives like a Grim Reaper. His heart clenched in terror.

These were elite mercenaries he had painstakingly gathered. With a massive backer providing endless modern weaponry, he had built this armed force, and even among the Sahar Wastes, they wielded considerable influence.

Their numbers had grown to nearly three thousand. Yet in just ten minutes, Leander, with mere gestures and strikes, had killed hundreds.

Not only that, but the tanks and rocket armored vehicles—expensive weapons purchased at high cost—were being torn apart before his eyes. One flaming spear alone had obliterated a rocket armored vehicle. Such losses were beyond what he had ever imagined.

"Attack! All of you, attack!"

His frantic voice echoed over the comms. Though he had Leander's information and understood the power of modern warriors to some extent, he never expected human combat ability to reach such a level.

Destroying tanks with bare hands was unthinkable.

But he had no time to dwell on that. From the moment he accepted this mission, he had been committed. Now he could only order a full-scale attack, hoping to eliminate Leander.

All tanks pivoted their turrets toward him.

Boom!

The three lead tanks opened fire, their railguns aimed directly at Leander.

Whoosh!

Leander moved first. His foot swept across the ground, kicking up sand and debris into a swirling mini-tornado. Wind and dust spiraled high, forming a protective barrier around him.

The three incoming railgun shots slammed into the outer wall of the sand tornado.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The simultaneous explosions reverberated, deafening everyone nearby. The tornado held for a moment but was shredded by the immense force, scattering sand in every direction.

Amid the flying debris, Leander's figure vanished. The remaining tanks could not lock onto him.

Seizing the moment before anyone could react, a figure shot forward like a spear, emerging from the whirlwind of sand.

Whoosh!

Boom!

"This is our Chief Instructor, the strongest in the history of the Southern Wyvern Blade. A Chief Instructor to be revered for life!"

Skyler paused, speaking in three parallel phrases, each word heavy with respect and awe.

Earlier, he had regarded Leander as a rival in Ravenridge. But now, any lingering thoughts vanished.

To him, Leander was no longer a competitor—he was a figure worthy of admiration and reverence, the ultimate Chief Instructor.

The other Southern Wyvern Blade members looked at Leander as well, their gazes unwavering.

They all knew one thing with certainty—this battle would mark the beginning of a new era, a historic chapter in their history.

Leander moved like a phantom, and wherever his Dragonfire passed, it swept everything aside. The three-thousand-strong formation before him was almost completely annihilated.

Heavy tanks and armored vehicles were ripped apart by his bare hands or sliced through by the Dragonfire, reduced to nothing but scrap metal.

At the border of Ivoria, dust and smoke filled the air. Leander, clad in tattered white robes, lifted a middle-aged man in his hand and slowly emerged from the swirling sand.

"Who sent you here to wait for me and attack me?" he asked, his voice cold as he tilted his head toward the man.

The middle-aged man was the commander of this armed force. His face, a typical Middle Eastern complexion, was pale with terror.

"You're a demon…" he stammered, his voice trembling.

In just half an hour, a three-thousand-strong armed unit had been completely wiped out by Leander—one man, alone, leaving nothing standing in his wake.