Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger - Chapter 338

Chapter 338: EX 338. On His Knee
As Leon and the Dragon Lord clashed, the skies over Dragon Mountain convulsed with every strike.

Fire and force collided in blinding flashes that split the clouds apart, shaking the realm itself. Each blow from Leon cracked the air; each counter from Eragon tore apart the ground beneath them.

But amid the chaos, Leon’s gaze wasn’t only on his opponent,.it was fixed inward, analytical even in the middle of carnage.

He’d noticed something.

When the Dragon Lord had begun his monstrous transformation, it wasn’t just flesh and power that had changed.

The cores inside Eragon had changed too. Each pulse of fury, each surge of corruption twisted them further.

The more bestial Eragon became, the more the cores followed suit, reacting, reshaping and darkening.

Leon had seen it clearly.

And while the corruption didn’t concern him, it was something he could cleanse later but the possibility of losing those cores altogether wasn’t an option he’d allow.

Those cores belonged to Elizabeth.

He would not let them die with the beast.

So, he decided to use the Dragon Lord’s own rage as fuel.

To transform the cores instead of destroying them.

The divine man and the corrupted dragon slammed into each other again, the force of their blows warping the air into molten shockwaves.

Leon’s thoughts cut through the chaos:

‘A professional’s core fades after death… but a beast’s does not.’

He parried a swipe from the dragon’s molten claws, letting the impact push him backward through the air.

His aura rippled outward as he steadied himself.

“I’ll even have the added benefit of awakening the cores,” he muttered under his breath, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

The tempo of their clash began to plateau, brute strength meeting brute strength, a deadlock of divinity. Leon’s grin widened slightly.

“Time to take it up a notch.”

In an instant, his body blurred. He broke from the melee, sliding backward through the air, widening the distance.

Energy gathered around him like a storm as his right hand rose.

Void blade shimmered into existence, silent and black shaping itself and humming with the vibration of nothingness itself.

Eragon’s eyes widened, his instincts screaming.

Leon pointed the tip toward him.

“Let’s see how many you can take before you break.”

The words carried no malice, only cold amusement.

Leon had marinated this beast long enough; now it was time to enjoy the harvest, to drink the wine of his labor.

The Dragon Lord roared, molten veins glowing brighter as he lunged forward, driven by fury and humiliation.

Nothing was more maddening to a dragon than being toyed with by prey.

The moment he moved, Leon’s voice cut through the storm.

“EXTREME ART — HORIZON CLEAVE!”

He swung the Void Blade in a smooth, vertical arc.

A blinding aura slash tore through the air, stretching from horizon to horizon. The impact was instantaneous.

SHHHH—CRACK!

The Dragon Lord froze mid-lunge. His eyes darted downward.

A line of blood traced across his right shoulder.

His entire right arm tore free, severed cleanly from his body.

The limb crashed to the ground far below.

Eragon screamed, clutching the cauterized wound, his bellow echoing through the mountain valleys.

His molten blood spilled across the rocks, sizzling as it hit the ground.

Leon watched him calmly, Void Blade still humming in his hand.

His expression didn’t change—but his eyes glimmered with something dangerous.

This was only the beginning.

****

Corruption.

It was the most dangerous force known across Pandora, it was unpredictable, unfathomable, and utterly merciless.

Eragon had tried to master it.

Somehow, he’d used corruption as a tether, to anchor Elizabeth’s cores to himself.

That alone proved his terrifying ingenuity.

To merge another being’s cores, especially those of a professional, was supposed to be impossible. Yet the Dragon Lord had done it, twisting his own essence into a grotesque bridge of power.

But there were limits to this tame corruption.

It could mutate flesh. It could empower. It could destroy.

But it did not grant immortality.

And that was why, as Eragon’s severed arm lay smoldering in the rubble, it did not grow back.

His body pulsed, his molten veins writhing in pain but the flesh refused to heal.

Leon knew exactly why.

“You might’ve bound those cores to yourself with corruption,” he murmured, watching the dragon Lord stagger, “but you don’t have its undying nature.”

The Void Blade in Leon’s hand hummed, the air vibrating around its edge.

He moved before the next breath could fall.

Flash.

A streak of black light slashed across Eragon’s scales, followed by another, and another. Each strike found a weakness, each strike shattered divine flesh that was once thought invincible.

Whenever Eragon tried to summon a Law, Leon’s Force Affinity crushed it.

Whenever he uttered a word in Dragon Tongue, Leon’s voice answered, speaking the same words with greater authority, the language bending to him.

Whenever Eragon tried to counterattack, Leon was already there, blocking, redirecting, and striking again.

It was relentless.

A symphony of precision and destruction.

The Dragon Lord roared in anguish, his every motion met with punishment.

He swung with his left claw, Leon severed it.

He attempted to take flight, Leon ripped through his wings.

His horns cracked under a blow, fragments scattering into the molten earth.

And still Leon kept going.

He didn’t end it swiftly.

He didn’t crush the dragon in one strike.

He wanted him to fight back.

If he left no sliver of hope, Eragon would retreat into despair and that wasn’t what Leon wanted. He wanted him to struggle, to claw for survival, to believe he still had a chance.

That made it all the more satisfying when reality crushed him.

By the time the battle reached its lull, the once-majestic Dragon Lord of Flames was on his knees, a broken, bleeding ruin of his former self. Both arms gone. Wings shredded. Horns splintered. His right foot torn away, molten blood pooling beneath him.

He trembled under the weight of his own defeat.

Leon stood before him, silent for a long moment, his white hair drifting in the heated wind.

Then his gaze shifted, to the faint light pulsing beneath Eragon’s chest.

The cores.

He could feel it. They’d been fully transformed and awakened through the chaos of the rage of the dragon lord.

Leon’s expression softened into something cold and resolute.

“You have your uses after all.”