Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger - Chapter 351

Chapter 351: EX 351. Royal Rumble
The moment Leon and Elizabeth stepped through the archway of the Crucible, the noise swallowed them whole.

Outside, the crowd had sounded loud enough to shake the trees.

Inside, it felt like they’d walked into the heart of a living storm.

The roar hit them from every direction at once—voices layered over voices, a rolling tide of excitement that vibrated through the stone beneath their feet.

Leon paused just inside the entrance, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

“Now that’s something.”

Elizabeth leaned closer, her gaze drawn upward. “How did it get so big…?”

The arena at the center shouldn’t have fit into the building they had walked into.

From the outside, the Crucible was enormous, but the battlefield stretching before them was impossibly vast, a floating island of stone and shifting terrain suspended in a pocket of distorted space.

Waterfalls poured into nothingness along the edges.

Lightning crackled around distant pillars. The entire battlefield breathed.

Leon followed the distortion lines along the ceiling and walls, recognizing the faint shimmer of folded space.

“They must have brought in a powerful mage with a strong affinity for space. One powerful enough to warp the interior.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“My thoughts exactly.”

They moved deeper into the stands, weaving past groups of beastmen with painted faces and travelers clutching enchanted binoculars. Conversations dimmed briefly as eyes followed them, curious, lingering, almost confused.

Elizabeth, with the glow of her three-core physique, carried a presence that made people blink twice.

Leon’s presence was quieter, but no less striking; even wrapped in modest clothes, he held the effortless poise of something not quite mortal.

A few couples in the nearby rows exchanged glances that held a spark of insecurity, but Leon and Elizabeth paid the attention no mind.

They settled into their seats just as the arena floor erupted, stone blooming upward in a burst of dust and fire.

Before the shockwave even faded, a figure flashed into view on a platform high above the crowd.

A goat beastman, horns curled like polished obsidian, hooves thudding against the wood.

His vest glittered with sequins, and he held what could only be described as a microphone fashioned out of enchanted crystal.

He thrust it toward the sky and bellowed, voice amplified until it shook the seats.

“ARE YOU READY FOR A SHOW?!”

The crowd answered with a roar so loud the stands vibrated.

“YES!!!”

The goat-man grinned wide enough to show every sharp tooth as he spun in a circle, soaking in their frenzy.

“GOOD! Because after today—after everything you’re about to witness—nothing else in your life will even come close!”

The arena shook as the crowd erupted again.

“YEAH!!!”

Elizabeth leaned forward, eyes bright. Leon watched the stage, expression calm but alert.

The show had begun.

****

The goat-man lifted his crystal mic again, his excitement rolling through the arena like thunder.

“The contestants,” he shouted, pacing along the platform with sharp, confident steps, “have already been chosen from across all of Pandora! Handpicked through the preliminaries during the last cycle!”

Cheers rolled across the stands, but the goat-man suddenly grew still. His expression shifted. The air followed suit, tightening with a quiet weight.

“But…” His voice dropped, steady and solemn. “We should not forget why this tournament exists.”

The entire Crucible seemed to inhale at once. Conversations died. Even the wind quieted.

“For three long years,” he said, each word striking like a hammer. “Years longer than they should be… we Pandorians have lived under the shadow of a plague.”

Every spectator felt the anger rising, sharp and familiar, a flame in the chest.

“Corruption,” the goat-man growled.

“A sickness that has taken from us without mercy. Our lands. Our loved ones. Our future.”

Murmurs swept through the crowd—agreement, sorrow, rage.

“We have lost too much already. And that…” He lifted the mic again, eyes hard,

“is why the rulers of Pandora have united. Why they have joined hands with a mysterious figure who has brought hope where none existed.”

Another wave of voices surged.

“Yes!”

“This tournament,” he shouted, “won’t only be for glory!”

“Yes!”

“It won’t only be for riches!”

“YES!”

“It won’t even be for revenge!”

The next roar shook the stadium.

“YES!”

“This tournament,” he said, raising both arms high, voice cracking the air with raw conviction, “will be for the great future of Pandora!”

The Crucible exploded with the loudest cheer yet. People leapt to their feet, fists raised, voices breaking as excitement turned into something fierce and desperate.

Even Leon felt it stir inside him, a pulse of heat beneath his calm exterior.

Beside him, Elizabeth straightened, her eyes brightening.

The goat-man, satisfied, spun toward the massive battlefield.

“So let us cheer,” he cried, “for the warriors brave enough to test their strength! For those stepping forward to fight for all of Pandora!”

The arena erupted again.

And then—light.

Thousands of magic circles flared across the colossal floating stage.

They covered every inch, glowing in layered colors, humming with power.

One by one, figures stepped out of the light. Beastmen. Humans. Elves. Mages. Warriors. Some clad in armor, others in nothing but battle robes. Their auras hit like a wall.

A wave of divine-stage pressure rolled over the stands.

Leon leaned forward slightly.

“They’re all Rank Seven and above.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught. The sheer force gathered on one battlefield was enough to threaten an empire.

The goat-man flashed a wicked smile, his tail flicking behind him.

“Oh!” he shouted. “And one more thing!”

The crowd leaned in.

“This tournament…”

He grinned.

“…is going to be a royal rumble!”

The Crucible shook as every spectator screamed at once.

“YES!!!”

****

The goat-man lifted the mic again, his grin stretching wide as the last echoes of the crowd died into a tense hush.

The air in the Crucible felt charged, thick enough to grab with both hands.

“The Campaign,” he shouted, pacing along the railing with a swagger that matched the roar in his voice,

“will demand the strongest Pandora has to offer. Just reaching the divine stage isn’t enough!”

A ripple of murmurs rolled through the spectators—some excited, some uneasy.

“The rulers need warriors who can carry their own weight. Fighters who won’t crumble the moment they set foot inside the Hallow!”

Gasps. Excited whispers. A few nervous laughs.

Leon glanced across the battlefield, noting how several contestants straightened, their auras flaring in competitive response. Elizabeth leaned slightly toward him, her gaze sharpened.

The goat-man raised a finger.

“So the rules…” he said, letting the sentence hang, “are very simple.”