From Outcast to Overlord The Unyielding Heir (Leander Ashcroft) novel Chapter 545

Thup-thup-thup.

Rotor blades had hammered the sky as six gunships tore through the clouds, dropping low with murderous intent. Dust had whipped into spirals along the streets. Torre's squad had frozen, faces pale, throats tight, every nerve screaming danger.

AH-1 Cobra attack helicopters were built by Agylae in the '60s to rain hell from the sky, and decades later, they were still packing the same brutal punch.

Each one had looked like a weapon given wings.

A crewman operated an enhanced Gatling gun at the nose, sweeping across a fierce one-hundred-fifty-degree arc. At the same time, a heavy cannon was mounted below—a weapon that once commanded worldwide attention.

These guns were designed not for easy targets but to demolish heavily armored vehicles. They could pierce almost twenty inches of steel with each shot. A single precise hit could destroy a tank, leaving it riddled with holes as if devoured from within. The power of one shell far surpasses that of a Barrett rifle, making it seem trivial.

Deadlier still, missile pods were mounted under the frame, each warhead strong enough to drop a skyscraper. Once loose, they could latch onto targets at close range and hunt them down, turning the battlefield into a killing ground.

With weapons like that, one AH-1 Cobra attack helicopter was enough to wipe out a force of 3,000 soldiers, including armor and vehicles.

Six flying side by side meant the sky itself had become a full strike brigade.

No one could fathom what kind of disaster would call for that kind of response.

Stunned silence swept through the group. Every head slowly turned.

All eyes landed on Leander.

No explanation was needed.

He was the one who had torn through 3,000 troops by himself.

The enemy had failed to break him.

Now they were changing the rules.

"Get moving. Don't look back."

Leander had raised his arm.

A surge of unseen power had exploded outward, scooping Torre's team off their feet and hurling them down the road. Boots had scraped across dirt as they were forced away, bodies fighting a current they could not stop.

"Chief!" Their voices had cracked, carried away by wind and fear.

Leander had chosen to stand alone.

Better one man take the storm than let everyone be buried under it.

Their hearts wanted to go back, but their minds understood the danger. A single shot from those guns would eliminate them before they could reach him.

…

Once they were beyond the last buildings, Gisela grabbed Torre's sleeve, her eyes trembling. "He's really staying behind to fight all six of the AH-1 Cobra attack helicopters?"

Vane brought her fist down into her palm, breath sharp. "Captain, he's carrying this because of us. Walking away feels wrong. We can't leave Chief to fight that alone."

Boomer had stepped forward, teeth clenched. "If he's going down, I'm right there with him."

That idea persisted with nearly all of them.

Leander had defeated a force of 3,000 men alone, but that strength still seemed insignificant compared to an AH-1 Cobra attack helicopter in the sky.

One gunship throwing death from a distance was already too much to handle.

Six flying together felt like a death sentence.

What they wanted was to stay, fight at his side, move forward, and fall back together. If the mission died, they would die with it.

None of them wanted to live as the ones who ran.

Clang, clang, clang.

His eyes drew into slits. So this is what the new age looks like.

He had previously flipped through magazines with pictures of the AH-1 Cobra attack helicopter, considering them as distant curiosities. Now, seeing them alive and roaring was like peering into the mouth of a beast.

Missiles and rockets were bad enough, but the true terror was the anti-armor cannon mounted beneath the frame. This gun alone had the power to crush an Infernal Crown Transcendent as if they were made of chalk.

Khaedor, the God of Madness and a famed body-forger, could not survive a direct hit. Likewise, Nicholas, the leader of the Bloodthorn Mercenaries, would meet the same end. A single shell could tear either of them in two.

Even the Blood Demon's domain couldn't withstand such an assault; one mighty blast would demolish that crimson realm and grind his true form to dust.

A cold truth settled in Leander's chest.

No way I tank that head-on with just Primordial Energy and my own body.

So, this is what modern weapons look like... power that blows straight past the King phase.

Twelve rivers of flame steadily narrowed the gap, striking toward Leander as gunners directed their fire. Far from the chaos of battle, beneath layers of concrete and steel, an underground command center was illuminated with screens. Several uniformed officers stood silently, their eyes fixed on the live feed.

They were waiting.

They wanted to watch this martial prodigy get shredded under the star's overwhelming barrage.

On the display, Leander finally made his move.

Crack!

He tore his arm free from his torn clothing, pulling away the tattered fabric. The pieces dropped to the ground, exposing dense, well-defined muscles and a frame that seemed forged from steel.

Leander tipped his head back toward the screaming sky, eyes blazing with hunger for battle.

"Today, I test these war machines with nothing but a mortal body," he thundered. "Come on. Let the steel show me what it's got."