Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger - Chapter 297

Chapter 297: EX 297. Always Watching.
The battle between Leon and the monstrosity tore through Harlot’s Paradise like a storm made flesh. Every clash sent tremors rippling through the crumbling cityscape, each blow ringing out like thunder. The streets cracked, buildings groaned, and what little still stood from the earlier chaos now fell apart under the sheer force of their fight.

From where he lay half-buried in debris, Lancelot could only stare. His body ached from the savage beating he’d taken at the hands of the golden brute, yet the pain was nothing compared to the disbelief tightening his chest.

That boy, whose aura was unmistakably Rank Four, was matching a High Rank Seven blow for blow.

His eyes tracked their movements, barely keeping up with the blinding flashes of impact that darted across the ruined skyline. “Just… what kind of monster are you?” he whispered hoarsely, uncertain whether he was speaking of Leon or the creature.

A light touch on his shoulder made him flinch.

Lancelot tensed, spinning slightly before freezing when he saw who it was, one of Leon’s clones. The figure said nothing, only pressed a vial into his hand. A faint smile flickered across its face before it dissolved into nothingness, fading like mist.

Lancelot stared at the potion for a long moment before exhaling shakily. “You can still think of me… even in the middle of that?” he muttered, a dry chuckle escaping him. “The mind of a genius is beyond my comprehension.”

He uncorked the potion and downed it in one gulp. A soothing warmth spread through his battered frame. The cuts and bruises didn’t vanish completely, but the worst of the agony dulled. With rest, he’d recover. For now, all he could do was watch.

Not far away, Adrian and Rachel stood on the edge of a shattered rooftop, eyes fixed on the clash in the distance. The grey brutes that had once swarmed the city were no longer a hindrance, their energy drained completely, devoured by the succubus-turned-monstrosity. The air hung heavy with the scent of decay and ash.

All that remained now was Leon and the abomination.

The creature’s blows came down like meteors, the ground splitting under its sheer strength. But Leon met each one head-on, his Ascendant body moving with unnatural precision. He deflected strikes that could level buildings, his blade flashing like a streak of midnight.

They zigzagged across the ruins, their speed blurring into afterimages. The monstrosity lashed out with its tail, the sharp tip whistling through the air, but Leon twisted aside, his movements fluid and effortless. The next moment, several magic missiles streaked toward him, he batted them away, their explosions lighting the sky.

Then he vanished.

The world around them shifted.

The battlefield dissolved into a valley of blades, countless swords jutting from the earth like a graveyard of warriors. Their presence pulled at the mind, whispering serenity instead of rage, a calm before the slaughter.

Leon stood at its heart, Void Blade humming with restrained violence. “Extreme Art: Sword Valley,” he said quietly.

The swords around him flared with pale, incandescent light. Their aura rippled outward, weaving into the creature’s psyche, dulling its senses, pulling it into stillness.

Leon moved.

A black arc split the air, the ground screaming beneath the swing. The monstrosity barely reacted in time, its instincts screaming danger as it tried to pull back. Wings flared, muscles bulged, and its tail whipped out to shield its body.

Too late.

Leon’s blade missed the neck by a breath, instead carving a deep gash across its chest. The cut seethed with destruction, the wound hissing as the creature staggered back, its wings faltering.

The shockwave from the strike hurled it across the street. It smashed through a building, concrete and steel folding like paper before silence returned, trembling silence.

****

“Yes!” The word tore through the air like a roar of triumph.

It came from Alexander Arman, the Emperor himself, seated upon the golden throne of the imperial palace. Despite returning hastily from the imperial guards head quarters, his attention had never once left Leon especially the battle raging within Harlot’s Paradise. Before him floated a massive scrying orb, its surface swirling with the image of a white-haired youth clashing against a monstrous, winged abomination.

At first, sending a Rank 7 professional with Leon had seemed excessive, after all, the cluster that appeared in that forsaken city had only been active for three days. But now, watching the power those creatures possessed… it chilled even him. The one Leon faced was no ordinary anomaly. Its aura was brushing the very limits of Peak Rank 7.

The Emperor’s hands tightened on the armrest of his throne. The veins in his forearms stood out faintly.

The quest had been meant as a test, to gauge the boy’s limits, to see how far his power stretched under real pressure. Never had Alexander intended to throw Leon into the maw of death. Yet the scene before him defied belief.

Leon Kael, a mere Rank 4 Ascendant was trading blows with a creature whose very presence could flatten armies.

His expression shifted slowly, disbelief softening into something far rarer on his face, pride.

At his side, Genevieve, the Empress, watched in stunned silence. Her silver hair caught the light of the orb as her wolf ears twitched sharply, a reflexive reaction to the pressure of the power she felt even through the viewing crystal. Her golden eyes widened, the reflection of Leon’s image burning in their depths.

“Where… did such a monster come from?” she asked softly, her voice caught between awe and unease.

Alexander didn’t answer at once. His gaze lingered on Leon’s figure on the fluid, violent grace of his movements, on the fearless precision with which he fought a creature that should have crushed him.

“I don’t know,” the Emperor said finally, voice low, steady. “And to be honest… I don’t want to know.”

Because deep down, something told him that whatever truth lay behind Leon Kael’s strength was not meant for ordinary men to uncover.

But what he did know was this, clearer than any prophecy, more certain than any divine decree.

Soon, not just the Arman Empire, but the whole of Pandora, would echo a single name—

Leon Kael.