Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger

Chapter 429: EX 429. The Divine Existences.

Ignatius studied Leon for a long moment, then let out a slow sigh. He remembered the words spoken to his apparition in his daughter’s death space.

Don’t be a scumbag the next time we meet.

It seemed he had almost repeated the same mistake.

He coughed lightly.

"My apologies," he said. "I only wished to know if my daughter is well."

Leon met his gaze. And scanned him in an instant, Ignatius looked completely human. No horns. No draconic sigils. Just a father asking about his child.

Leon noted it absently.

’Elizabeth is half human,’ he thought. ’He’s a full dragon. For him, this is a complete transformation.’ The thought passed as quickly as it came.

"She’s in another timeline," Leon said calmly.

"....."

Selena, Darian, Luke, and the Governor all reacted at once. Pity crossed their faces as they looked at Ignatius. Leon’s answer was technically correct,

yet delivered in a way that twisted the mind. It made a person question their own sanity. Was Leon serious? Or was he deliberately phrasing the truth in the most unsettling way possible?

Ignatius stood frozen, caught between relief and confusion, unsure whether he had just been reassured... or subtly tormented.

Ignatius did not sit with that confusion for long.

Leon spoke as they walked, his voice calm, almost distant, as he laid everything bare. The war against corruption. The truth of the world. The primordials, those so-called creators of existence, and how they had already decided the fate of every living thing. How their timeline was treated as a disposable sacrificial lamb, offered so that another part of reality could limp forward.

With every word, Ignatius felt something heavy settle in his chest.

This was not a war that could be won by strength alone. It was not even a war that allowed hope in the way he understood it. Their end had been written long before they were born, long before dragons took to the skies or demons crawled out of corruption.

Knowing that their struggle, their losses, their resistance were all part of a predetermined script made him feel smaller than he ever had in his long life.

For the first time, power felt meaningless.

Ignatius had always believed that strength was the answer to everything.

That if one became strong enough, nothing could stand in their way. But this truth shattered that belief with cruel efficiency. His power was not enough. Not even close.

He glanced at Leon then, really looked at him.

The boy had a way out. A safer place. Another timeline where he did not need to shoulder this burden. And yet he had chosen to come back. Chosen to fight for a doomed world.

’Is this how someone with true power acts? Ignatius wondered.’

The thought lingered only briefly before he pushed it aside. The headquarters of Zion loomed ahead, and the weight of what Leon had revealed pressed down on all of them as they continued forward in silence and in that silence Leon finally took Zion in properly.

It was beautiful.

Not in a loud, defiant way, but in something calmer. People moved through the streets without fear clinging to their backs. Children laughed. Workers spoke casually as they passed one another. No one ran. No one looked over their shoulders. When Leon had first arrived, there had been shock, then caution. Once it was clear there was no panic, life simply resumed.

They had accepted their fate.

Leon understood it instantly. Instead of drowning in a future they knew would end in tragedy, they had chosen the present. And the present, for now, was good.

So they lived fully, worked with discipline, and smiled without restraint. Not because they believed they would survive, but because they refused to waste what remained.

Some would call it pointless. Leon didn’t. He saw resolve in every step.

As they neared the headquarters, Leon finally spoke."They seem... happy. Despite everything."

Selena glanced around, her expression softening.

"That would be because of the leader."

Leon looked at her, interest sharpening. "The leader?"

She explained as they walked. How this person had unified the survivors after the shutdown. How they kept order without cruelty, hope without lies. How Zion wasn’t held together by fear, but by trust. When Selena finished, Leon’s gaze had drifted ahead, thoughtful.

He wanted to meet the leader, and luckily, it won’t take long for that to happen.

Leon finally reached the headquarters of Zion, and the difference was immediate.

Compared to the surrounding structures, this building carried weight. Not beauty for comfort, but dignity earned through purpose. Its walls stood firm and deliberate, as if the place itself understood the burden of leadership. Leon walked beside his parents, the governor, and Ignatius as they entered, the air inside was cooler and heavy with silence.

A long corridor stretched ahead of them, straight and narrow, its polished surface reflecting faint light from runic veins embedded in the walls.

Their footsteps echoed as they advanced, the sound measured and unhurried. At the far end stood a massive door, taller than any Leon had seen within Zion, carved with symbols that spoke of unity, sacrifice, and resolve.

The doors opened.

Beyond them lay a vast hall, shaped like a ceremonial amphitheater. Rows of elevated seats rose in tiers behind them, curving outward toward the walls. At the front stood a wide stage, and upon it were twelve seats arranged in a clean arc. Above them, set slightly higher and commanding the space, rested a single throne.

Every seat was occupied.

As Leon stepped inside, the figures seated there turned their attention toward him as one. No murmurs followed. No whispers. Just silence, thick and deliberate.

Leon’s gaze swept across the hall, calm and assessing, taking in the leaders of Zion without pause. He said nothing as he continued forward, his presence cutting through the stillness like a blade drawn slow from its sheath.

Every presence in the hall carried the weight of divinity.

It pressed down like distant stars, restrained yet unmistakable. These were beings who had crossed the Divine Stage, entities whose mere attention could bend battlefields. They had gathered not out of curiosity alone, but because word had spread with frightening speed.

Someone had appeared at the heart of Zion without warning. Someone who ignored protocols, barriers, and laws that had protected them since the shutdown.

That alone would have been enough to summon scrutiny.

But then came the second message.

The intruder had requested a gathering.

Murmurs had followed. Doubt. Suspicion. A few flashes of irritation from those unaccustomed to being summoned by anyone. Yet all resistance had ended the moment the leader spoke. No explanation. No debate. Just a single instruction.

Attend.

So they came.

Now, as Leon walked forward beneath their collective gaze, silence ruled the hall. Not the tense kind born from hostility, but something sharper. Measurement. Appraisal. Every divine mind present weighed him, tested him, searched for cracks.

And found none.

Leon felt it, the way their attention brushed against him like probing fingers, but he didn’t slow. His steps echoed calmly across the polished floor as if this were his place to stand, as if the divine existences meant nothing more than scenery.

Some frowned.

Some narrowed their eyes.

One or two leaned forward without realizing it.

Because no matter how they looked at him, one truth settled uncomfortably deep in their minds.

Whoever this young man was, he had not come here to ask for permission.