This was the first time Leon had ever stood against a true Rank S.
No tricks like the battle with Eleanor's master. No controlled spar meant to temper his edge. This was a clash against a powerhouse, a realm reserved for legends whose very presence bent the battlefield.
Leon's gaze locked on Lancelot, it was steady and unwavering.
Without hesitation, he burned every attack points he had accumulated for the day. The surge was immediate, a torrent of strength rushing into his body, swelling his muscles, sharpening his senses, feeding his veins with raw, crackling energy. There was no stress multiplier this time, but the sheer quantity was enough to turn his body into a weapon. Temporary, yes. But he would make it count.
His domain burst forth like a storm. It didn't fully suppress Lancelot, the man's sheer will and rank resisted it but the weight pressed on him enough to tip the balance.
