Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger

Samantha's knees pressed into the cobblestones, her heart beating unevenly as the weight of realization sank in. 'The Lord himself had offered to help me… and I doubted him.'

Shame flickered across her face, but it was quickly drowned by relief as she clutched Pascal close.

The boy, however, didn't share his mother's turmoil. His small hands fidgeted with the fabric of his cloth, his wide eyes locked downward, too shy to look up. 'The Lord… held me. Spoke to me. Could this really be real?' The thought alone was enough to make him wonder if he had drifted into a dream.

Leon broke the silence, his voice firm yet calm. "You may rise."

One by one, the citizens lifted themselves from the ground. Their gazes lingered on him, reverent and cautious. Leon offered a faint smile, steady as ever. "You can continue with your activities."

He turned his attention to James. "Let's go."

Without another word, the three of them—Leon, Racheal, and James—made their way back toward the manor. The citizens watched in hushed awe as their figures receded into the distance, the weight of their new reality settling over Shantel like a quiet dawn.

Samantha's eyes softened as she looked down at her son. "I hope you didn't disrespect the Lord on your way here."

Pascal froze. The memory of his struggles in Leon's arms flashed through his mind, his lips trembling as a grave look settled on his young face.

Samantha caught it instantly. She shook her head gently, brushing her hand through his short brown hair. "You don't have to panic. The Lord is a benevolent man. I'm sure he didn't take it to heart."

Pascal swallowed hard, then nodded. "I hope so. Next time I see him… I'll make sure to apologize properly."

Samantha's lips curved into a warm smile. "That's my boy." She gave his head a final pat, her voice softening. "Come, let's head home."

****

The heavy wooden doors of the manor shut behind them, sealing away the sounds of the city. Leon, Racheal, and James walked straight through the halls until they entered the office.

Leon settled into the high-backed chair behind the desk, his posture steady, and his expression unreadable. Racheal sank into the couch at the side, arms folded as if she were simply observing, while James took the seat directly across from Leon.

Leon leaned back slightly, his voice low but firm. "Alright. You can give the report."

James drew in a breath, steadying himself before speaking. "We've completed the restoration process… but things aren't looking so good."

Leon's eyes narrowed, his silence urging James to continue.

And so he did. Piece by piece, James laid the state of Shantel bare. The more he spoke, the clearer the picture became, and a thought carved its way into Leon's mind: 'How have they been surviving up until now?'

The truth was brutal. From James's report, it became clear Shantel was standing on its last leg. The tyrant bear's presence had severed all contact with the outside world, forcing the city into a fragile self-sufficiency. That fragile balance wasn't sustainable; a city could only support itself for so long before cracks formed.

And then came the abomination.

It wasn't the destruction of property that shattered Shantel's foundation, it was the lives lost. A self-sufficient city depended on one critical thing: division of labor. Every role mattered. Some defended the territory. Some grew food. Others built and repaired. That balance was what had kept them afloat all this time.

But the abomination's rampage had broken it. Too many were gone. The defense force was now helping with reconstruction, but practitioners couldn't do everything forever. Shantel's greatest problem wasn't resources, nor shelter—it was manpower.

Leon sat in silence as the weight of the report pressed against him. His gaze sharpened, but his mind turned quickly. A city without enough hands is already halfway to collapse.

****

Leon hadn't forgotten his initial goal. This was, after all, just a trial, a simulation meant to push him and the others toward a particular end, or break them along the way. That goal wasn't to act as some city manager. No, it was far from it.

If he wanted, Leon could stand up right now, walk out of the manor, and leave Shantel to its fate. It wasn't his responsibility. And no, it wasn't some savior complex that kept him rooted here either. Leon had a plan for Shantel.

Pandora was vast. His true task—to find the source of corruption and erase it—was daunting even with his strength. Reuniting with his squad would help, but even then, handling all the powerful opponents would be only part of the challenge. What about the menial tasks? The groundwork?

That was where division of labor came in. Leon didn't need followers because he was weak, he needed them because no one man could handle everything. If those followers fell into trouble, then it only made sense for him to intervene.

Closing his eyes, he sank into thought.

'How do I solve this problem?'

One idea flashed, clones. His Mirror Split could now create more than one copy. But he quickly dismissed it. Sustaining multiple copies for long stretches would bleed his aura reserves dry. Short-term, yes. Long-term, not a chance.

Another path began to take shape. Leon opened his eyes, careful to avoid James's gaze so the man wouldn't fall under his hypnotic pull. "How many cities are in the Tyrant's Forest?"

James straightened, voice steady but heavy. "There are many cities, my lord… but most were destroyed after the Tyrant Bear's appearance."

Leon had already suspected as much. He knew how Pius had used the bear to harvest lives, feeding corruption with each death. But the Tyrant's Forest was massive. Not all cities could have fallen. Somewhere out there, survivors would remain. And Leon was willing to gamble on that.

Leon leaned back in his chair, his tone calm but firm. "James, get your squad ready. You'll head out and check for any city that still has survivors. If you find any, bring them back."

James rose to his feet immediately. "Yes, my lord." He bowed deeply and turned to leave, his eagerness showing in the sharpness of his movements.

Leon watched him with a faint smile. 'At least his spirit hasn't dulled.' But just as James reached the door, Leon's voice cut through the room.

"Where do you think you're going?"

James froze, puzzled, and turned back. His brow furrowed. "To gather my men, my lord."

Leon shook his head lightly. He extended a hand, and his aura rippled. A shimmer split away from him, taking shape until a perfect duplicate stood by his side. The clone's presence wasn't as overwhelming as Leon's own, but the air around it still carried weight enough to press against the chest.

"This copy will be accompanying you," Leon said, folding his arms. "It's not as strong as me, but it's more than capable of handling anything in the forest."

James's eyes widened, his chest tightening at the sight. The lord was sending a piece of himself, entrusting his safety to his own power. Emotion welled up in his throat as he dropped to one knee, head bowed. "I will make sure not to fail you, my lord."

Leon's lips curved in faint satisfaction. "Good. You may go."

Without another word, James rose, bowed again, and left the office with the clone following silently behind him. The room fell quiet once more.

Leon's gaze shifted toward the couch. Racheal sat with her arms crossed, watching him with that unreadable expression. An idea suddenly sparked in his mind, as he turned his body toward her fully, his violet eyes narrowing with intent.