Ex-Rank Awakening: My Attacks Make Me Stronger-Chapter 121: EX . Scent Of Death

The notification hit Leon like a slap across the face.

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[WARNING: CURSE FIELD INTENSIFIED]

Debuff Applied: All Stats Reduced by 1000%

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"What...?" Leon’s eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. "A thousand percent?"

He almost didn’t believe it. A debuff like that shouldn’t even be possible, at least not outside an SSS-rank demon domain. Before he could even begin to process a counter, another message blinked into view.

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[ERROR: Host Body Exceeds Threshold]

Stats Increased by ????

Unable to Fully Debuff Host

Final Debuff Applied: All Stats Reduced by 30%

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The new values slid into place.

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Current Stats:

Strength: 2169>1518

Senses: 1702 >1191

Vitality: 1944>1360

Stamina: 1614>1129

Speed: 1641>1148

Aura: 1951>1365

---

Leon stared at the numbers, blinking.

"...Now that’s convenient."

The question marks puzzled him. Some unknown system force was kicking in, blocking or negating the worst of the curse. He didn’t know what triggered it, but he wasn’t about to complain. Whatever the cause, he’d take it. Right now, he had no time to dwell on mysteries. He had a squad to rescue.

His jaw set, and he started moving again.

---

Back at the pool, Eleanor’s nails dug into the marble rim until they cracked. Her breath came in ragged bursts, hair wild, eyes locked on the scrying image with a look of pure disbelief.

"How—how is he able to withstand a 1000% debuff!?" she screamed.

The chamber trembled with her fury.

That wasn’t just a normal curse field. The entire corridor Leon was standing in had been layered with inscribed curse runes—ancient glyphs meant to amplify debuffs by an extreme margin. The field was calibrated for complete stat collapse, meant to bring even an S-rank trial taker down to negative values, paralyzed, and helpless.

But Leon still stood. Not only that, he moved like it was nothing more than a weighted vest.

Eleanor stumbled back from the pool, a rare chill running through her veins.

"Is he even... human?"

The air behind the curse demon shifted. Heavy stomps echoed. New shadows emerged from the mist, hulking demons with massive upper bodies, arms dragging across the ground like war clubs. Their lower halves were stunted, but their shoulders were wider than two men, muscles bulging with grotesque strength.

These weren’t scouts. These were enforcers.

The curse demon stepped back, its job done. Now came the raw violence.

Leon exhaled once, cracking his neck. His eyes gleamed with challenge.

"Come at me."

The ground shook as the demons roared and charged.

Leon didn’t wait.

He charged too.

The demon brute’s fist came like a cannonball, a blur of muscle and rage that cracked the air as it connected squarely with Leon’s jaw.

Or so it seemed.

With a hollow shatter, the body broke apart into glowing motes of blue light, it was a clone from Mirror split.

The demon’s eyes widened in disbelief, the realization landing a fraction too late.

As Leon was already behind them.

And in a single motion, smooth and precise, his sword rose like a guillotine. The cursed demon barely had time to glance over its shoulder. As the blade carved through its neck before the breath to scream could form. Its body collapsed in silence, and the oppressive aura vanished like a dream ending at dawn.

[System Notification]

Debuff Cleared.

Stat Penalty Removed.

The ease with which it was dispelled told Leon everything, the master mind behind this never expected it to be broken. They had placed all their faith in that one cursed ability. That miscalculation had just cost them everything.

He turned toward the demon brutes, the real muscle of this ambush, and gave them a lopsided smile.

"Now that’s better."

The demons froze. Some primal whisper clawed at their minds, urging them to run. But instincts were slow, and Leon was faster.

"Come at me now," he said casually, sword falling to his side as he stepped forward.

None of them moved.

So Leon did.

He vanished, then reappeared mid-charge. The last thought that flickered through the brutes’ minds wasn’t fear, but confusion.

"Why tell us to come... if your just going to come first?"

The slaughter was clinical and efficient. Leon danced through them like a predator among cattle, steel singing, eyes locked forward. One fell. Then two. Then five. He didn’t even break stride.

His boots kicked through demon blood as he marched toward the next signal on his squad tracker.

"This is so easy... I haven’t even used my points yet."

Then his gaze narrowed.

" But Whoever set this up... is going to die badly."

Deep within the cave...

Eleanor stared into the glowing pool, lips trembling.

And then she felt it. Not through the pool, but through her bones.

A scent.

Death.

The pool’s reflection shifted and Leon’s eyes flicked up from the blood-soaked ground and met hers through the vision.

Eleanor gulped, throat dry.

Somewhere in her core, something ancient and instinctive whispered:

You’re prey.

****

As Leon dashed through the winding tunnels of the demon-crafted cave, each step sent cracks echoing through the earth beneath his boots. The stale, cursed air didn’t faze him. The scent of brimstone, the heat from distant hellfire veins, the low snarls of lurking beasts, they were all just background noise now.

What did catch his attention was the faint, chilling ripple at the edge of his senses.

He was being watched.

Leon didn’t flinch. If anything, he grinned.

"Good," he muttered, eyes gleaming as they narrowed ahead. "Watch closely."

Let them see.

Let whoever was behind this bear witness to every step he took, every demon that crumbled before him, every trap turned useless. Let them feel the weight of their failure as the pieces of their perfect plan shattered in real time. Because when they saw how easily he dismantled everything they’d built... only fear would remain.

The deeper he went, the stronger the resistance. Demons of all shapes and sizes lunged at him from the dark, one masked its body in mirrors, another bent light to hide, one even split into dozens of shifting shadows. But none of their tricks slowed him. Each encounter ended the same: with Leon cutting them down, fast and brutal, never stopping, never wasting a second. His blade gleamed red and black in the lightless tunnel. It wasn’t just battle anymore. It was judgment.

He was getting close now.

The tracker pulsed on his wrist, a blink of soft blue in the dark. It blinked again. Then faster.

"I’m almost there," Leon breathed, not slowing his pace.