Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger

Leon stood amidst the dissolving remains of the abomination, his blade still buried in the marble flesh of what had once been the City Lord. The air was thick with the stench of corruption, black dust breaking apart and scattering into the breeze. Yet, despite the victory that should have felt final, Leon didn't lower his guard. His instincts burned, whispering danger still lingered.

And he wasn't wrong.

The City Lord's head, half-crushed beneath Leon's sword, convulsed one last time before its jaw cracked open unnaturally wide. From within, shadows poured out in streams, wisps of distorted figures rising skyward like smoke escaping a fire.

One after another, they took shape. Men. Women. Children. Their faces twisted by fear, then slowly softening into calm as they drifted upward. These were the souls of those sacrificed to fuel the monstrosity. Leon could see their pain lift with every passing second, their torment ending as they were released from the corruption that had bound them.

He stood silently, his white hair swaying in the breeze, watching them depart.

And then came the last shadow.

It stepped forth not like the others, but fully formed. Small. Fragile. A boy of maybe ten or eleven, his eyes wide and untainted, brimming with innocence. His expression wasn't twisted in fear or agony, it was simply… human.

Leon's grip on his blade tightened. He knew instinctively who this was.

Pius. The City Lord. But not the corrupted tyrant. This was him before the voices, before the power, before the descent into ruin.

The boy looked at Leon with clear eyes and spoke softly, his voice echoing in the forest air.

"Thank you… for saving me. And for liberating the people of Shantel."

Leon said nothing at first. He studied the boy, his expression unreadable, but his thoughts tangled. Slowly, finally, he asked, "Who did this to you?"

The young Lord tilted his head slightly, his lips trembling with a faint, bittersweet smile. "No one is responsible apart from myself."

Leon's brows furrowed, his chest tightening at the answer. That made no sense. Everything he'd seen, the obsession, the corruption, the ceaseless chant of Make Shantel Great Again, it all pointed to some outside force manipulating the man, twisting his good intentions.

But now, hearing this, Leon felt his certainty falter.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice lower, sharper.

The boy's shadow met Leon's eyes with unflinching honesty. His gaze was neither angry nor ashamed, just tired, like someone who had carried too much for too long.

****

Leon stared at the boy, his blade still planted in the dissolving remains of the flesh golem. The midday sun of Pandora beat down on him, yet the chill running through him came from somewhere else entirely.

The boy's voice was soft, clear in a way that felt out of place after all the screams that had filled this battlefield.

"Corruption doesn't come from anywhere but within."

Leon frowned, his knuckles tightening on his sword hilt. "What does that even mean?"

Pius's shadow, his younger self, unmarred by the rot that had consumed his life, met Leon's gaze without flinching. "Corruption is like an idiopathic disease. Its cause unknown, its effects devastating."

Leon's jaw tightened. He shook his head. "No. That's wrong. Everything has a cause. Nothing just… happens. There's always a reason. A spark. A trigger. Something." His voice dropped, sharp and certain, as if defying the boy and the world itself. "Saying it's without cause is just bullshit."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then the boy turned, his gaze wandering past Leon toward the ruined skyline of Shantel, where ash still drifted like snow. "The corruption started when my mother died. But I won't say that was the cause. My brother wasn't affected. Neither was my father. And yet…" His voice faltered, not with weakness but with a strange, hollow acceptance. "In that state, I could feel others like me. Some who woke one day already corrupted. Others who lived in loving homes, only to turn against their families the next morning. That is corruption. It is inside us. Undecipherable. and waiting."

Leon's chest felt heavy. The fire in him, the conviction that every effect had a cause, every event a source wavered. His bravado drained away, leaving him standing in silence. His eyes lowered, and he muttered under his breath, "So after everything… I gain nothing?"

Pius's shadow didn't answer right away. He simply looked at Leon, his form already fading like smoke scattered by the wind. At last, he spoke softly: "I don't know if this will help, but it always helped me. A poem… one my mother used to tell me whenever I felt down."

Leon almost told him not to bother. What good would a poem do against something as monstrous as corruption? But the boy's outline was already breaking apart, drifting away like the other freed souls. For a fleeting moment, Leon realized this was the last trace of Pius left in the world.

So he held his tongue. And he listened.

****

The boy's shadow closed his eyes, voice soft but steady as if reciting something etched deep into his soul.

"He walked the dusty roads alone,

From town to town, a soul unknown.

A quiet man with steady hands,

He offered help where labor stands.

He mended roofs, he tilled the ground,

He soothed the sick, where none were found.

He bore the weight of others' pain,

Yet asked for nothing in return again.

But when the work was said and done,

No coin was given, not even one.

No feast, no thanks, no song, no cheer,

Just whispers fading into fear.

Children stared with cautious eyes,

Elders spoke in hushed replies:

'A stranger comes, and then he goes,

None can tell what he bestows.'

Still onward walked that weary shade,

Through forests deep, where shadows played.

Through mountains high and rivers wide,

He wandered, silent, at their side.

One fateful night beneath the stars,

A pilgrim asked, 'What soul you are?

Why do you toil, yet claim no prize?

Why hide your truth behind disguise?'

The man looked up, his form aglow,

A light the mortal could not know.

He smiled, his voice a boundless flame:

'I am no man, but God, unnamed.

I walk among, in humble guise,

To test the hearts and weigh the lies.

The gifts you spurned were blessings sown—

Yet still I labor, still alone.'

And with those words, he disappeared,

The night fell silent, all was cleared.

The townsfolk wept, the earth stood still,

For they had turned away God's will."

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy, like the last embers of a dying fire. Leon stood unmoving, his sword still in his grip, as the boy's shadow began to unravel into strands of light.

"Thank you," Pius said softly, his voice already fading with the wind. "Thank you for letting me share this with you."

And in the next heartbeat, he was gone, dissolved into nothing, leaving Leon standing in the forest, alone beneath Pandora's unflinching midday sun.

The silence that followed pressed down harder than any battle.