Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger

Nikko’s gaze lingered on the crystal in her palm, its surface glimmering faintly like frozen starlight. A false crystal, so rare that in the entire history of the Federation, only three had ever been found. And now, one of them rested in her hand.

Her father, the Governor himself, was giving it to her.

She knew their value; anyone with sense did. A false crystal could fabricate a lower-zone presence for a trial taker, letting them enter a weaker trial zone without losing any of their actual power. In the right hands, it meant something dangerous, powerful trial takers slipping into low-ranked zones, able to protect someone without being bound by the zone’s restrictions. For the great houses, it was the ultimate safeguard for their heirs after the first trial.

That’s why her breath had caught when she’d realized the truth, her father wasn’t giving it to her for her own use. He was giving it to Leon.

Her eyes flicked toward Akira, the thought creeping in uninvited.

’No... it couldn’t be... does Father swing that way?’

The Governor noticed the narrowing of her eyes, his brows rising faintly in confusion.

’What’s wrong with her?’

Nikko quickly forced the idea away. ’I must be overthinking things. Father’s had more wives than I can count. Three centuries of the same preferences, it would be strange for him to suddenly change.’

Still, the question gnawed at her.

’Then why is he taking so much care of him?’

She let the thought linger for a while before deciding.

’I’ll ask Leo later, after he teaches me how he did that to Sakura during the display.’

Another realization struck her, and she spoke before thinking. "But why don’t you want to be the one to use the crystal?"

She didn’t mean it as a challenge. She was glad, thrilled, even, that she would get the chance to follow Leon into the trial world. But she wasn’t blind to the truth: if her father went himself, Leon would be far safer.

Akira gave a soft snort. "You have no idea how much I would’ve preferred another person to follow that womanizer—"

Nikko blinked.

"Excuse me?"

The Governor froze mid-sentence, a fleeting look crossing his face,

"Ah. I said that out loud."

A faint shimmer bent the air around him. Lost Time. The moment unraveled like loose thread, rewinding to just before his slip.

"This is because the Federation needs my presence," he said evenly, as if nothing had happened. "We’ve reached a point in the war against the demons where any mistake could be catastrophic. I cannot leave." He paused, his gaze sharp. "But you... I believe you’d do whatever it takes to protect that boy."

"I would give my life," Nikko answered without hesitation.

Akira nearly choked on air. Internally, he cursed Leon in every dialect he knew.

"...Good," he said at last, forcing composure. "Then get ready. You leave for the trial world tomorrow."

"Yes, Father."

She left the command center, the false crystal already stored safely in her inventory.

Akira remained where he was for a long moment, the vast war maps and silent lights of the command room pressing in around him. His thoughts were his own, sharp and private. Then, with a faint shake of his head, his figure dissolved into the air.

****

The Governor’s voice was calm as he discussed plans with his successor Leon and daughter, Nikko Yakomoto, but beyond the command centre, the Federation was anything but peaceful.

The reason was simple. The great purge had begun.

Bal’ark had given Akira every scrap of intelligence on the demonic worshippers. Once Akira passed it to his agents, they wasted no time. Across the Federation, dark enclaves were rooted out and slaughtered. In the Eastern Sector, one such cell was already in the midst of their twisted work.

Beneath a crumbling chapel, a naked woman was bound to a demonic magic circle. Flickering violet flames clung to candles placed in precise, unholy symmetry. Hooded figures in tattered black robes chanted in a guttural, otherworldly tongue.

"Oh great demon Sha’rim," intoned the figure at the circle’s head, "we offer this untouched maiden to you. All we ask is that you grant us your power."

The flames flared in response.

The bound woman’s eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding her face, until she saw who stood at the center.

"Henry... what is happening?"

The leader hesitated for only a breath, the shadows of the hood failing to hide his familiar features.

Her breath caught.

"No... it can’t be. You’re a demonic worshipper."

Henry smiled, almost gently. "Don’t worry, my love. Soon you will be embraced by our Lord."

"You’re insane!" Linda thrashed against her bindings, her voice breaking.

From thin air, Henry drew a ritual dagger, its blade etched with runes that pulsed a faint, malignant red.

"You’ve been blinded by the heretics. Once you enter His embrace, your eyes will finally open."

"Somebody! Help me!"

No answer came.

As Henry raised the blade, but as the blade came down, darkness surged before it could fall. A dome of shifting shadows burst up from the floor, shrouding Linda. The dagger rebounded uselessly off the living darkness, spinning from Henry’s grip.

He staggered back, eyes wide. "Who dares interrupt our Lord’s sacrifice?"

A figure stepped into being atop the shadow dome, the magic beneath her feet bending to her will. Raven-dark hair framed a face carved in cold precision, her azure-green eyes fixed on the cultists with unflinching disgust. The black-trimmed crimson uniform on her shoulders marked her rank.

"Disgusting," she said flatly.

It was Valeria Kael, Leon’s sister, Crimson Commander of the Federation’s Eastern Task Force. The strongest of the cultists barely scraped C-rank. They would be nothing but an afterthought to her.

As Henry opened his mouth to speak he was interrupted by Valeria as she activated her talent,

"Shadow Dominion,"

The shadows began to swell, swallowing the light.

****

The air inside the dim, candlelit chamber seemed to grow heavier as Valeria’s voice cut through Henry’s sputtering words.

Her Extraordinary talent; Shadow Dominion, was not merely control over darkness; it was the ability to seize every flicker of shadow in her reach and bend it to her will as if it were a living extension of herself. With it, she could stretch a shadow until it became a tendril, sharpen it into a blade, or compress it until it was harder than steel. Every change in form, every shift in density, came as naturally to her as breathing.

Now, that mastery turned the cult’s ritual into their tomb. The shadows on the floor began to stir, peeling away from their rightful owners and flowing toward Valeria like black rivers drawn to a single, commanding tide. They rose, writhing into jagged, spear-like protrusions and thick, snake-like coils that rippled in anticipation. The flicker of the violet candlelight only deepened their menace, making them seem alive and hungry.

Around Linda, a protective dome of pure darkness hardened until it gleamed faintly in the unholy light. Around the cultists, however, the shadows thickened and coiled like predators circling prey.

Shadow Master Valeria was no longer standing still, she was acting, and for the demonic worshippers, there would be no escape.