Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger

Lancelot's eyes rested on Leon, it was unreadable and cold as forged steel. Inside, however, a single thought drifted through his mind. 'What a tiresome youth… prideful to the point of arrogance. Someone like him wouldn't last a day in the Imperial Guards.' To Lancelot, Leon was still a child, a talented one, yes, but a child all the same.

With a motion as effortless as a sigh, he lifted his hand. The invisible chains binding James and his squad dissolved into sparks. Their bodies dropped, only to be caught midair, suspended briefly, and lowered gently to the ground at Leon's side.

James stumbled forward, the moment his boots touched dirt, and bolted toward Leon like a man desperate to cling to his anchor. His words spilled out in a rush.

"Lord, I didn't tell him anything about you! He tracked where we came from himself!"

Leon placed a steady hand on James's shoulder, his touch quieting the man more effectively than words. "It's okay. You and your squad should rest today."

James's chest heaved as relief softened his panic. He looked at Leon then, not just with respect but with reverence. Leon's gaze never wavered from Lancelot as he asked, his tone steady, "Just tell me, James… is that man an enemy or a friend?"

James hesitated, lips parting and closing before the words finally came. "He should be a friend, my lord. But…" His eyes flicked to the golden figure above, voice lowering. "…we shouldn't let our guard down."

Leon gave the faintest nod, still holding his gaze on Lancelot. One more question pressed from his lips, flat and heavy. "Did he kill my copy?"

James stiffened, then shook his head. "No, my lord. It was… something else." He paused, as though debating how much to say, before finishing, "I'll give you a full report later."

Leon's grip tightened once on his shoulder before he let go. "It's fine, James. Rest now."

James's throat worked as he swallowed the lump of tension in it. "Thank you, my lord." He bowed slightly, then motioned to his weary squad. Together, they withdrew toward the manor to recuperate, leaving Leon alone to face the weight in the sky.

The silence that followed was heavy but deliberate. Leon didn't care that the Imperial Guard had heard every word of their exchange. He stood his ground, calm, and waiting, not filling the air with nervous chatter, not asking questions he didn't need to. He simply waited for the man to speak his piece.

Lancelot, far from irritated, observed this disregard with a faint flicker of disapproval hidden beneath the layers of his composure. Finally, he broke the silence.

"I won't beat around the bush," he said, voice low but carrying across the ruined city like a tolling bell. "So I'll be direct."

The pause that followed was razor sharp. His eyes glowed faintly as they bore into Leon's.

"What do you know about corruption?"

*****

Leon froze at the question, his mind sharpening like a blade. 'Corruption? He's here because of that?'

'But why now?' Shantel had been drowning in corruption for years, long before Leon's arrival. Yet the moment he purged it, this golden-clad enforcer appeared from the sky. It didn't add up.

Of course, Leon knew nothing about what James's squad had endured alongside his copy, nothing about the endless waves of respawning undead. But sooner or later, James would give his report, and the truth would surface. For now, Leon had to play carefully.

He leveled his gaze at the lieutenant and said evenly, "I don't know much about corruption. Only that it needs to be destroyed."

Lancelot's blue eyes widened in rare shock. "Destroyed?"

Leon blinked, caught off guard by the disbelief in the man's tone. "Yes. They should be destroyed… or shouldn't they?"

The Imperial Guard's face darkened as though Leon had just uttered something unbelievable. His voice dropped, almost reverent in its disbelief. "Was it you… that destroyed the corruption in this city?"

Leon hesitated. His instincts screamed caution. 'Why is he acting like destroying corruption is impossible?' He weighed his words, choosing each one as if it were a blade in hand. "Yes. I destroyed it. Is there a problem with that?"

Lancelot didn't answer with words. His body blurred as he dropped from the sky, golden boots striking the earth with the weight of judgment. In the next heartbeat, he was beside Leon, his hand flashing to grip his shoulder.

"You're coming with me."

Leon's instincts flared. The void within him coiled like a serpent ready to strike. His body moved before thought, and in the same instant, Tier IV Force Domain erupted around him. The air thickened, the invisible gravity of his will dragging against Lancelot, slowing his movement. Not crushing him, not pinning him like lesser foes, but enough to stall the lieutenant's grip.

It gave Leon the fraction of a second he needed. He slid back, distancing himself, his eyes narrowing like sharpened steel. "What was that supposed to be?"

Lancelot straightened, the golden glow of his armor flickering as his expression twisted in irritation. The Imperial Guards were trained for one thing, absolute obedience, no questions, no resistance. Disorder was a crime; defiance, an insult.

"You will come with me," he said coldly.

Leon's reply came without hesitation, direct and uncompromising. "And why should I do that?"

For the first time, Lancelot's composure cracked. Rage seeped through his voice, his aura flaring like a storm ripping across the sky. "This is why I detest pompous youths. No discipline. No respect."

The ground shook beneath his aura, a Rank 7 presence crashing down like the sea against rock. Yet even as it pressed, Lancelot's thoughts betrayed a flicker of surprise, this boy, this Rank 3 professional, had stalled his movement with raw force alone. Unacceptable.

His teeth clenched. That mistake would not repeat. Whether Leon liked it or not, Lancelot had already decided. The boy would be dragged to the capital.

****

Rachel's fingers brushed the curve of her bowstring, her heart pounding in her chest. 'Shit… why did he have to annoy a Rank S warrior?' The thought stabbed through her mind as she watched the clash unfold. Against someone like Lancelot, Leon didn't stand a chance or so she believed.

She had already drawn half an arrow before his voice cut across the chaos, firm and unwavering.

"Leave it to me. I got this."

Rachel froze, stunned. His words weren't shouted, but the confidence in his tone hit harder than any scream. For a moment, she just stared at him, blue eyes narrowing, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. 'Does he even understand who he's up against?' This isn't some demon or corrupted beast, this is a Rank S.

Leon stood there, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on Lancelot with that same maddening calm he always wore before stepping into the storm.

Rachel's bow wavered. Her instinct screamed to fight, to help, to at least buy him time. But the way he carried himself, like the whole world could crash down and he still wouldn't flinch, forced her to hesitate.

Finally, she exhaled and lowered the bow, her grip tight with lingering doubt. "...I'll leave it to you."

Even as she spoke, her chest twisted. Trust didn't come easily to her, but for some reason, looking at Leon in that moment, it felt like the only choice.