Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger

In the Federation, affinities were never given much weight. Everyone knew the tiers ranged from I to VII, but it hardly mattered, most trial takers never awakened an affinity at all, and those who did usually ended up with something weak and unimpressive. The situation was so poor that across the entire Federation, only a handful of people had ever reached Tier III.

It wasn't hard to understand why. Affinity could only be awakened after breaking into C-rank, and unlike other stats, it was fixed. Once awakened, its power could never be raised through effort or training. Because of this, information was scarce, and interest even scarcer.

That perspective shattered for Leon in the Shantel Library. Buried in it's records, he learned of the professionals of Pandora, another people entirely. They too awakened affinities, and theirs were fixed as well. But the difference lay in their sheer numbers and their access to resources. Among them, Tier IV and even Tier V affinities existed. And with those came something the Federation had never truly documented.

Domain.

It explained everything. Why the point requirement to advance his affinity climbed so drastically. Why the climb itself felt like scaling a wall meant to keep the unworthy out. Domain wasn't just a higher step, it was a transformation.

Leon understood that the moment he pieced it together, and it was the reason he did what he did. All the multiplied points from the Stress Multiplier, funneled directly into his Force Affinity.

The copy couldn't mirror this. Leon had only just gained his enhanced affinity; the replica would need to invest its own points to evolve it, and Leon wasn't about to give it that chance. He'd finish it here.

The void rippled outward as his Domain unfolded, a crushing tide of pressure slamming down onto the copy. It froze, forced to its knees, unable to rise. Leon made sure the weight was merciless enough to pin it, but not to wound it, and grant it its own multiplier.

Silent, he bent down and picked up his opponents fallen sword. The steel caught the trembling shimmer of the void around him. He didn't speak a word as he drove the blade straight through the struggling copy's skull.

Its body jerked, spasmed, then stilled.

For a heartbeat, Leon's chest tightened. There was something wrong about it—unnatural—stabbing into a face that mirrored his own. But the unease broke the moment the copy dissolved, its form unraveling into shadow before scattering into motes of dark light that vanished into the air.

And then, across his vision, a new notification appeared.

****

[You have obtained @#@##/@#?? Fragment]

Leon blinked at the strange line floating across his vision. His body was still tense from driving his blade through the copy's skull, but this… this wasn't what he expected.

[Checking compatibility with the fragment]

[Tabulating… tabulating… tabulating… tabulating…]

His brows furrowed. "What the hell?" he muttered under his breath. The messages kept rolling in, one after another.

[High compatibility detected — 99.9%]

Leon's confusion deepened. Ninety-nine point nine? He had no clue what it meant, yet the number screamed significance.

The next message sealed it.

[Initiating synchronization]

"Wait, synchronization with what—?"

The thought cut off as pain unlike anything he had ever known slammed into him. His knees buckled, and he crumpled onto the cold void floor. His hands clawed at his face as if to rip the agony away, but nothing stopped it.

[Suitable organ sacrificed for synchronization]

Blood trickled hot and wet from his eyes, streaking down his face. Leon let out a ragged scream that tore through the void, his voice breaking under the weight of the torment. He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms, his vision flashing red and black.

This wasn't pain, this was desecration. It felt as if nails were being driven through his eyes, hammered again and again, before being twisted deep into the sockets. He wanted to black out, to lose himself, but the void denied him even that mercy.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" His scream echoed endlessly, shattering into the emptiness.

The torment dragged on for what felt like eternity, but in truth it was minutes. Minutes where his world was nothing but white-hot agony. Finally—mercifully—the pain ebbed. Leon collapsed onto his back, chest heaving with phantom breaths that shouldn't exist in his spirit form.

He stared up at the endless dark of the void, eyes stinging, thoughts barely stringing together. One question rose past the haze.

"What… the hell…"

But that was the least of his problems. Unnoticed, the icy blue of his eyes had vanished. In their place burned a deep, royal purple glow, faintly luminous, eerie enough to stain the void itself with its light.

****

In the city lord's manor, Racheal slipped inside with quiet steps, her senses sharpened and bow drawn. Every muscle in her body was coiled tight, because she knew, whatever had drawn Leon here wasn't something to take lightly. An arrow rested against her string, ready to fly at the first sign of danger, and her keen eyes scanned each corner as she advanced.

Her boots pressed softly against the floor, careful to avoid the possibility of traps. Yet the deeper she went, the more her nerves prickled for nothing. There were no wards, no ambushes, not even the lingering presence of servants. The manor was… empty.

She stopped in the middle of a hallway, frowning. "Is he not here?" she whispered under her breath, her bow still raised.

Room by room she searched, methodical, unwilling to let her guard down. Each chamber gave her the same answer, dust, silence and nothing more. Until at last she reached the lord's personal quarters.

Her sharp elven eyes caught it immediately: an opening yawning in the floorboards, jagged around the edges, leading into darkness below. She stepped closer, her instincts flaring.

"I have a feeling he's down there," she murmured, steadying herself.

Resolute, she placed her foot on the spiraling staircase carved into the stone beneath and descended. Every step was deliberate. Her long ears twitched, catching every creak, and faint whisper of the underground air, listening for traps or hidden assailants. But still—nothing. Just the silence.

Until she reached the bottom.

Racheal's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.

Before her stood a black rock, its surface fractured and glowing faintly with a sickly, eerie light. Next to it loomed a chrysalis, pulsing faintly as if alive, drinking in the energy from the stone. With every pulse, the rock shrank ever so slightly, as though consumed.

The air here was heavy, oppressive and wrong.

Her lips parted as a single word escaped. "Corruption?"

Her mind raced. She was a trial taker too, though not human, she received the same trial as the rest.

In that moment a cold certainty stirred in her gut: 'whatever comes out of that cocoon would not be anything good.'

She raised her bow, steadying her aim, her arrow trained on the chrysalis. If it hatched, she'd strike before it drew its first breath.

But then, with a faint crack—

A fracture split across the chrysalis' surface.

Another followed.

Then, with a sound like breaking glass, it began to open.