Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger

Chapter 437 437: EX 437. EX Rank Origin

Leon stood in the dim hush of his core space, the glow of origin pulsing like a distant star. The core's voice returned, steady and grave, filling the void around him.

"Corruption," it said, "had reached a volatile point."

Leon listened without interrupting as the explanation unfolded.

"What corruption sought now was no longer balance. It wanted to shatter it. It wanted to become something it was never meant to be…Perfect."

"In the Era of Pandora, corruption had first chased power, creating mutants and twisted evolutions to imitate the law of perfection. In this era, it had gone further. It had achieved death. Something only perfection could grant. The demons born from corruption could now die, and that alone was proof that imperfection had crossed a forbidden line."

"These were not signs of growth. They were symptoms of identity loss.

Imperfection had forgotten its role."

Leon felt a chill crawl through his thoughts as the core continued.

"Imperfection was not meant to erase death, nor wield it cleanly. Its purpose was decay, limitation, entropy. By learning to grant true death, corruption was trying to wear perfection's skin."

Leon finally spoke, his voice tight.

"What happens if it succeeds?"

The core fell silent for a moment, the light around it dimming. When it spoke again, its tone carried finality.

"If perfection and imperfection could no longer coexist, the imbalance would grow beyond repair. Origin would fracture. Existence would collapse inward. From the weakest mortal to the highest primordial, none would survive.

Not even the core itself."

Leon's false heart began to pound, sharp and uneven, the sound echoing faintly through the void. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay grounded.

"Then why hasn't it done it already?" he asked. "If corruption wants perfection so badly, what's stopping it?"

The core's light flared once, bright enough to push the surrounding darkness back.

"Because it was missing a vital piece," it said.

Leon felt the weight of the words before they fully settled.

"You."

Leon staggered back a step, the words landing heavier than any blow.

"Me?"

The core's light pulsed, steady and indifferent.

"Yes. It has always been you. From the very beginning, you were its final objective."

Leon frowned, disbelief tightening his chest. He searched himself and found nothing that felt worthy of such attention. He was strong, yes, but strength alone could be found anywhere. He had bled, struggled, clawed his way forward like countless others. There was nothing about him that screamed inevitability.

"I don't understand," he said quietly. "I'm not special."

"..." The core remained silent at first, wondering how Leon could act so shamelessly in this situation; however, it let the thought go and answered without hesitation.

"You have always been important, Leon. From the moment you were born. When imperfection realized what you were, it desired you."

Leon's jaw tightened.

"Why?"

The light flared brighter.

"Think carefully. What differentiates you from all others? Not power you gained. Not knowledge you learned. Something innate. Something no one else can replicate. Not even the primordials can see through it."

Silence stretched.

Leon's thoughts spiraled inward, stripping away layers until only the core of his existence remained. Every path he had walked. Every impossible leap he had taken. Every boundary he had shattered.

One answer stood at the foundation of it all.

"…My EX-rank talent," Leon said slowly. "[Attack]."

"Correct."

The word echoed like a verdict.

The core continued,

"And why do you believe you possess such a talent?"

Leon had no answer.

He had asked himself that question countless times, usually in passing, usually dismissing it as luck or destiny. Talents were tied to the soul. Their strength was shaped by resonance with the Trial World, by affinity, by circumstances at awakening. That was the explanation everyone accepted.

But Leon had never quite fit that mold.

[Attack] was not merely powerful. It was absolute in its simplicity. Growth through action. Progress through conflict. A concept so fundamental it bordered on law rather than ability.

Everything Leon had become rested on it. Strip it away, and the rest of his power collapsed like a house without a foundation.

Yet its origin had always been a blank space.

Leon lifted his eyes to the core, unease crawling up his spine.

"…So why do I possess such a talent?"

The core spoke with a calm certainty.

"It was a contingency."

Leon frowned, the word settling strangely in his mind.

"A backup plan?"

"Yes," the core replied. "A backup plan."

Leon listened as the explanation unfolded. "All laws were born from Origin, yet Origin did not rule them. That authority belonged to the primordials, the architects who shaped the laws and chose the absolute law of perfection as the foundation of existence, rather than seeking balance." Leon nodded slowly. He followed the logic. It was cold, but it was clean.

The core continued.

"When corruption was born from the law of imperfection trying to restore balance and losing control in the process, another response was triggered. Your talent, [Attack], was born from the law of perfection attempting the same thing."

Leon stiffened. The words hit harder than any blow. His talent was born from the absolute law of perfection itself.

The core was not finished.

"This perfection was not the same perfection the primordials wielded."

Leon's confusion returned.

"What do you mean?"

"The primordials controlled perfection indirectly," the core said. "They governed the lesser laws beneath it. Power, death, motion, change. That is not true dominion. Corruption, on the other hand, was born directly from the true absolute law of imperfection. And your talent was born directly from the true absolute law of perfection."

Understanding dawned slowly, heavily. That was why the primordials could not see through [Attack]. Why they could not contain corruption. Both forces stood outside their reach.

Yet the core pressed on.

"The law of imperfection sought balance through force and chaos. It became corruption. The law of perfection chose a different path."

Leon felt his breath slow.

"It relinquished control."

The words echoed.

"A law cannot be left unguided," the core said. "If it is, existence collapses. So perfection entrusted itself not to a primordial, nor to a god, but to a mortal."

Leon's false heart thudded.

"A mortal whose soul survived a dead era and was reborn into this one. A mortal capable of recognizing weakness, and growing from it. The primordials were too consumed by their own perfection to understand balance. You were not."

Leon stood silent before the core, the truth settling into him like weight and fire all at once.

"You were chosen," the core concluded, "because you could understand both perfection and imperfection. And because you could carry them without breaking."

Author's Note: Merry Christmas.