CHAPTER 33: EX 33. BROKEN PRIDE

The cult leader burst through the hallway like a man possessed, his black robes trailing behind him, boots pounding against broken tiles. He didn’t look back—not until he heard a furious voice echo behind him.

"Where do you think you’re going!?"

Adrian had snapped out of his stunned daze, surging forward with burning resolve. He gritted his teeth, shield clutched tightly in one hand, sword gleaming in the other.

But no matter how hard he pushed, the gap only widened.

’Damn it! He’s faster!’

Of course he was. Adrian was still F-rank, and the leader, judging by his presence and control, was at least E-rank. Worse—Adrian had no speed-enhancing skills or movement gear. His build was a Tanker, not a rogue .

’I can’t let him get away!’

His muscles screamed as he forced himself to move faster.

Ahead, the cult leader grimaced as he glanced over his shoulder, spotting Adrian still on his tail despite the odds.

’What are these heretics breeding?! Why was a new Trial Taker strong enough to wipe out our entire team!?’

Fear twisted in his gut. Not just fear of death—but of what this boy represented.

’If this one gets the chance to grow stronger... he could ruin everything.’

He turned sharply down a service corridor, aiming for a shimmering crack in the mall’s barrier—a hidden escape point created only for him, invisible to all others.

’I have to report this to the higher-ups. This boy... he must be erased before he becomes a threat to the Will of God.’

His hands surged with dark mana as he reached for the glyph controlling the passage.

Just a few more steps—

But the moment he reached it—

the barrier vanished.

Dissolved in an instant like smoke under wind.

The leader skidded to a halt, eyes wide.

"What?!"

Then—

CRACK.

A foot slammed into his skull like a hammer blow, sending him spinning through the air. His body whistled like a missile as it flew backward—straight toward Adrian.

Adrian’s eyes widened as he saw the tumbling form hurtling toward him.

"...That counts as an attack," he muttered, setting his shield forward.

And the instant the cult leader collided with the shield, the stored kinetic energy erupted outward—reversing the blow with full force.

The man slammed into the tile floor so hard the ground cracked beneath him. His body convulsed once, then stilled.

His last thought before darkness took him:

’How...?’

Silence returned. Dust hung in the air. As Adrian stood, panting lightly, eyes locked on the unconscious cultist sprawled in front of him.

And then he turned.

His gaze landed on the one who had delivered the kick—

Leon Kael.

For a moment, Adrian blinked, caught off guard—not by Leon’s sudden reappearance, though that raised questions.

No.

It was what he carried.

A demon corpse—slung casually over one shoulder.

Its severed head, tied neatly to Leon’s belt like a grotesque trophy.

Adrian’s mind stuttered.

’Wait...Don’t tell me.’

His thoughts tried to form something logical. Something sane. But they just... stopped.

He stared at Leon, at the corpse, at the blood, at the calm expression on his rival’s face.

’He didn’t go missing during the battle... he was—fighting this thing?’

His mind short-circuited.

’What in the hell did this guy just fight... and how is he still standing?’

****

The cult leader lay sprawled at his feet, unconscious and broken.

But Adrian’s attention had already shifted.

His eyes were glued to the thing Leon casually carried over his shoulder.

At first, he couldn’t breathe.

Even in death, the demon’s presence radiated pressure—a weight that pressed against Adrian’s skin like a smothering hand. The sheer malice lingering in its corpse made the air feel heavy.

His instincts screamed.

This wasn’t just any demon.

This... thing... had been powerful.

Adrian’s thoughts reeled as he unconsciously clenched the hilt of his sword.

No way... That pressure... That’s at least—

"D-rank," he muttered under his breath.

Maybe even higher.

His eyes darted to the corpse’s warped limbs, the clawed hands, the horns that had cracked against some brutal impact. It was clearly killed in direct combat.

It didn’t make sense.

Demons were naturally stronger than humans. Always had been. A demon’s rank couldn’t be compared evenly to a trial taker’s.

’So how—?’

His voice escaped before he could think.

"Where did you go?"

He had to know. Maybe... just maybe, he was overthinking things. Maybe Leon had found the body already dead. Maybe he—

Leon interrupted that last, desperate hope with a shrug.

"I sensed a C-rank demon in the building. So I went to take it out. No big deal."

Adrian froze.

And then—

"C-RANK!?" he blurted, the words cracking in the air like a thunderclap.

His control shattered, composure lost. His thoughts spiraled.

A C-rank demon—killed—by Leon?

How is that—?

His gaze slowly moved over Leon’s relaxed posture, the faint cuts on his shirt, the quiet confidence in his tone.

There was no arrogance in his voice. No smugness.

It wasn’t a boast.

To Leon, it really wasn’t a big deal.

That truth hit harder than any attack.

Adrian stood there silently, looking down, fists slowly curling at his sides. His gaze flicked to the floor, then back to Leon.

’Is this the ability of someone who’s lost their drive...? Or is this just raw, monstrous talent?’

He didn’t know.

And that frightened him more than anything.

’Will I... ever be able to catch up?’

The thought pierced him deeper than he expected.

His knuckles turned white.

He hated this feeling.

The same feeling that had once haunted him during his first week in the elite class. The feeling of being judged, dismissed, pitied.

He was the only one born without noble blood—without legacy. A Grounder who had clawed his way into the top. He trained longer. Fought harder. Pushed himself further than anyone else.

Except... him.

That stupid white-haired boy who barely seemed to try... and still stood higher.

Adrian buried that insecurity back then, locking it away. But he didn’t heal it. He replaced it.

With pride.

With disdain for the weak.

With the sharpness of a blade pointed outward so it wouldn’t turn inward.

That’s why, when Leon had finished his first trial late, Adrian attacked. Not with weapons, but with words, with fury.

With denial.

Because deep down... he feared this exact moment.

Where the one he tried to bury in his own perception... rose above him so far he couldn’t even see his back.

"No."

Adrian snapped out of his spiral.

He looked up. "What?"

Leon stood with the demon still on his shoulder, eyes calm, but sharp as steel.

"That look on your face," Leon said flatly. "It’s obvious. You’re thinking whether you can ever catch up to me."

Adrian flinched—just slightly—but it was enough.

He hated being seen through. He loathed it.

But the realization began to take hold.

Leon had seen it. Not just his reaction—but his doubt, his fear, his soul beneath the armor.

Before Adrian could speak—

Leon walked past him, the demon corpse still slung on his shoulder like luggage.

Without looking back, he said:

"Just know that no matter what you do... you won’t be able to catch up."

And then, with maddening casualness:

"And to make you feel better... you’re not the only one."

Adrian stood there in stunned silence.

"..."

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A/N: What do you guys think of Leon’s personality.

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