Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger - Chapter 363

Chapter 363: EX 363. Primal Spar
The clash between Leon and Malachi tore through the training hall in a blur of motion, each collision shaking the reinforced ground beneath them.

The hall was built to withstand monsters in human form, yet even its walls quivered under the force of their exchange.

Leon met Malachi strike for strike, his focus locked on the primal energy roaring off the beast man like a living tempest.

Far away in the throne room, Alexander watched through his viewing orb, the scene reflected across its surface with perfect detail.

His expression tightened in disbelief.

He had only meant to check on Leon’s sudden arrival with several visitors.

Leon was free to use the palace as he pleased, but an emperor still had to know who walked within his walls.

Instead of a simple inspection, he found himself staring at a duel that made his breath catch.

“That amount of primal energy… how is he even able to move?” Alexander muttered, leaning closer. The primal aura bleeding off the visitor was terrifying—so dense it looked like a burden that should have crushed him outright.

The emperor’s brows furrowed.

“Even Francis doesn’t have such a massive reserve.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration.

What Malachi carried inside him wasn’t something a body should be able to contain. Rank could offset the weight, but this was far beyond the line any Rank 8 being had the right to cross.

And yet Malachi fought like it was nothing… almost light on his feet.

A spark of recognition flickered in Alexander’s eyes.

“Fascinating,” he whispered. Then, more quietly, “But why does he look familiar?”

Back in the hall, Malachi hit the ground hard, sending cracks through the training floor.

His fur was ruffled, his body covered in small injuries, and blood still dripped from the wound on his head.

But none of that slowed him. Primal energy pulsed from him in rapid bursts, each one stronger than the last.

Leon hovered above the ground, gaze fixed on the beast man below.

Malachi stared up at him, breathing hard, eyes wild with realization.

“I’m almost there,” Malachi said, voice trembling with excitement.

“I can feel it…”

He tightened his grip on his staff as if anchoring himself to the moment.

“I will owe you my life for this opportunity you have given me.”

Leon didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Every instinct in him stirred. Something colossal was gathering beneath the surface.

Malachi closed his eyes for a heartbeat.

Then, under his breath, he whispered,

“Journey’s Art… ninth form.”

The effect was instant.

The raging primal storm in the hall fell silent.

The air stilled so completely it felt wrong, as if the world itself forgot to breathe.

One moment Leon stood in a familiar training hall, and the next, the scenery warped—everything dissolving into a starless void.

The only light came from Malachi, glowing like a sun beginning to awaken.

Behind him towered the silhouette of an emperor formed entirely of primal energy, the construct so vast it seemed endless, its presence a weight on reality.

Leon’s pulse quickened.

‘This is it.’

Malachi opened his eyes. His voice was steady now, almost divine in its certainty.

“Primal Heaven’s Matchless Authority.”

His staff moved—

and the void answered.

****

As Malachi swung the staff, the colossal silhouette of the primal emperor behind him moved in perfect symmetry.

Their forms rose and fell like a single being.

With every inch the staff cut through the void, Malachi’s rank climbed, his essence sharpening, his presence swelling until the strike looked ready to implode like a furious supernova aimed straight at Leon.

But the instant it neared Leon, just a few inches from his face, the staff seemed to freeze.

Not just the staff. Everything. The whole world stopped.

Only, it wasn’t truly frozen.

If one looked closely enough, Malachi’s staff was still moving, but at a speed so impossibly slow that it might as well have been suspended in time.

Leon exhaled softly, a quiet ripple against the stillness.

“You’ve helped in my enlightenment,” he said, his voice steady.

“So you have every right to be honored by what comes next.”

Extreme Art burned through him, mapping every thread of Malachi’s primal energy.

From the way Malachi generated it deep in his core, to the flow that rippled through his limbs, to the way he shaped, felt, and unleashed it—Leon had captured everything.

And this ninth form, Malachi’s now complete and ascendant strike, gave Extreme Art the final detail it needed.

A new art was ready to be born.

Leon raised his chin.

“I Am Primal Extreme form….. Sovereign Manifestation.”

The declaration didn’t echo. It thundered through the void like a divine verdict.

Primal energy surged around him, forming a towering figure of pure primal light at his back. The being rose higher and higher, until Malachi’s own manifestation looked like an ant before a god.

Even the void seemed to bow beneath its presence.

Time lurched.

Malachi felt movement return to his limbs as his staff continued its path.

But the moment he regained control, he saw it, Leon’s manifestation, vast and impossible, primal energy woven to perfection.

His breath caught.

This… this was it.

This was what perfection was supposed to feel like.

The realization struck him with the force of revelation, but he didn’t stop swinging.

He couldn’t.

This was the moment he had chased his entire life.

His manifestation struck at Leon’s, primal authority roaring forward—

—and Leon answered.

He stepped into the strike, and Malachi saw only a single palm descending. A palm as wide as a galaxy, radiant and endless.

Then the world turned white.

****

Everywhere was dark at first.

Malachi drifted in that quiet void, weightless, stripped of sound and sensation. Then a warm current slipped through his body, gentle at first, then steady. It pulled him back toward himself, back toward breath, back toward awareness.

His eyes opened.

The rough stone ceiling of the training hall swam into view. A soft clink followed, and he turned his head just enough to see Leon standing beside him, sliding an empty healing potion vial into his inventory. Leon didn’t look winded. He didn’t even look like someone who had taken part in a clash that shook an entire domain. His hair wasn’t out of place. His breathing was smooth. His gaze was clear.