E-Rank or SSS-Rank: I Awakened a Skill That Shouldn’t Exist

Ronan looked at Little One with his usual blank expression, his tone flat and devoid of amusement.

"…What exactly are you thinking?"

Little One cleared his throat, his grin tugging at the edges of mischief.

"Well, you know… Elexa is an extremely pretty young woman. Honestly, it's almost impossible for a young man not to be swayed by her charm. In fact—" he gave a mock sigh, "—if it weren't for the small fact that I'm already married, who knows? Maybe she and I would've been the ones married by now."

That last remark earned him a glare sharp enough to cut steel from Balor. The younger brother's jaw tightened, his eyes carrying every ounce of murderous intent. But Little One, either brave or simply insane, acted as though he didn't notice and leaned even closer to Ronan.

"So tell me," he continued, voice eager. "What's the real reason behind you wanting to carry her? Come on, no need to be shy—you're a man. Mature, even if you're still young. I'd understand."

Balor nearly groaned aloud, dragging a hand down his face. Sometimes, I truly wonder if this fool isn't a lunatic in disguise. Who asks something so ridiculous—while we're marching through a damn war zone?

But Little One was relentless. He noticed Ronan's silence stretching on, and pressed harder.

"So? What's your answer?"

Finally, Ronan arched an eyebrow. "So… what you're asking is why I'm carrying her?"

"Exactly!" Little One nodded rapidly, smiling as if he'd just won a game.

"Simple," Ronan said, his tone as calm as ever. "If I let Balor keep carrying her, we'd collapse before reaching the support camp. In a war like this, wasting time like that is not just foolish—it's suicidal."

Little One's smile faltered. Then it disappeared completely. His face twitched. What the hell kind of answer is that? Is this guy playing dumb, or does he really not get what I'm insinuating?

But he refused to give up. Not yet.

"Alright, alright," he pressed again, leaning in with mock seriousness. "Let's say you were alone with Elexa. Just you and her. No one else. What would you do?"

Ronan turned his head slowly, his gaze landing on Little One like the weight of an executioner's blade. "Why would we even be in the same room?"

Little One groaned, clutching his head. "Just… just imagine it happens, alright? She's there. You're there. Alone. You stare into her dazzling eyes… what then? What do you do?"

Balor should've shut the conversation down, but by now even he was a little curious. This was Ronan, after all. A man who wore no emotions on his face. Did he actually feel anything at all?

Ronan kept walking, his silence dragging longer and longer until at last he spoke again. His voice was steady, cold, and sharp.

"There's only one reason I'd ever be trapped alone in a room with her."

Little One leaned forward, eyes glimmering. "And that reason is…?"

Ronan didn't flinch.

"…She'd probably be trying to kill me. And if she ever tried it—then it would be the last thing she ever did."

Both Little One and Balor froze mid-step, their minds blank. The implication behind Ronan's words was clear: he'd kill Elexa without hesitation if she ever raised a blade against him.

Little One's face twitched violently, his earlier grin collapsing into disbelief.

"…This guy. He's completely hopeless."

Balor dragged a tired hand across his face, sighing heavily. For all the chaos of war, nothing could prepare them for Ronan's brand of insanity.

The two exchanged a silent thought and came to the same conclusion.

Ronan wasn't emotionless.

The trio pressed forward in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Little One walked with his usual restless energy, but even he seemed uncharacteristically subdued, his gaze flicking warily around the battlefield littered with corpses and broken weapons.

And Ronan—his eyes weren't on the ground before him, but on the larger picture. He wasn't thinking of wounds or exhaustion. His thoughts were locked on the war itself.

The beasts were only pawns. Their slaughtered bodies meant nothing. The true threat had yet to reveal itself—the Dark Emissaries. Until every one of them was cut down, this war would never end.

That thought froze Ronan mid-step. A cold, suffocating wave of danger pressed against him. His instincts screamed.

Without hesitation, Ronan spun on his heel. In one fluid motion, he tossed Elexa's unconscious form back into Balor's arms and unsheathed the twin blades strapped at his side. Purple aura burst from his body, cloaking him in a violent haze.

He didn't wait for the others to understand. He had already gathered every shred of energy left in him. His blades crossed, his focus sharpened to a single point.

"—Vibrant Slash."

The twin blades ripped through the air, unleashing a massive, X-shaped crescent of violet energy that surged forward with an ear-splitting roar.

Only then did Balor and Little One see the source of the threat.

A colossal fireball, easily the size of a fortress, was descending from the sky. It looked like a miniature sun collapsing upon them, the heavens themselves set ablaze. But strangely, it radiated no heat—only an overwhelming sense of annihilation.

The instant Ronan's slash collided with the incoming fireball, the battlefield shook.

BOOOOOOM!

The explosion cracked the air, splitting the skies apart. Blinding light swallowed the land, followed by choking plumes of smoke and dust.

For several seconds, there was nothing but silence, as though the world itself had stopped breathing.

Then Little One's trembling voice broke through.

"Wh-what… what the hell was that…?"

Ronan didn't answer. His knuckles whitened around his swords, his gaze locked on the smoke. His voice came low and cold, a whisper of recognition.

"…It's him."

A shadow descended through the haze. Step by step, the figure emerged—clad in an obsidian suit of armor that gleamed faintly crimson under the torn skies.

Long crimson hair whipped in the wind behind him, his aura so suffocating it crushed the ground beneath his boots.

A Dark Emissary.

Ronan's expression hardened. He turned sharply to Balor and Little One, his voice calm yet filled with a rare urgency.

"Go. Now. Get out of here. I'll take him."

"What?!" Little One barked, his face twisted with disbelief. "Are you insane?! That's suicide! We nearly died to one of them before, and you think you can fight another one—alone?!"

Balor's expression was no better, caught between panic and rage.

But Ronan didn't flinch. He leveled his flat gaze on them, his tone like iron.

"And tell me—what exactly do you plan to do in your current state? You can barely stand. Your cores are exhausted. If you try to fight, you won't help me—you'll only slow me down. And then we'll all die here."

The brutal truth silenced them both.

Ronan continued, his voice unwavering.

"If you want to help me, then survive. Get patched up. Join back in the war later. That's the only way you'll be useful to me."

Balor clenched his fists but finally lowered his head. Ronan was right. As much as it burned his pride, staying would only drag him down.

Little One's eyes glistened red, as though tears threatened to spill, but he bit them back and forced a trembling smile.

"…Don't worry, Ronan. Your sacrifice will be remembered by the entire world. I swear that on my life."

With that, he turned and lifted Elexa onto his back, staggering as he carried her away alongside Balor.

Behind them, Ronan's lips curled ever so slightly—not in pride, but in mockery.

"Sacrifice? Hero?" His voice dripped with disdain. "What the hell is that clown talking about?"

Ronan's gaze lifted back toward the figure descending from the smoke, his swords gleaming purple with killing intent.

"I'm no hero. I don't make sacrifices. I stay because I have a debt to settle… and this bastard is the one I'll collect it from."

Magus watched the retreating figures of Balor and Little One with a calm, almost serene expression—like a sage observing ants scurry across the ground.

His lips didn't move, but his crimson eyes shimmered faintly, betraying the hunger simmering beneath that tranquility.

Then, with a subtle flick of his hand, he raised a single finger.

From the tip of his digit, the air rippled.

A circular array spiraled into existence, intricate lines etching themselves in silver light, expanding outward with a low, vibrating hum. Sparks leapt across the forming sigil like a web of serpents writhing to life.

A heartbeat later, the array locked into completion.

CRACK—!

A massive bolt of silver lightning burst forth, tearing through the air at a speed the human eye could scarcely follow. Its target: Little One's unprotected head.

But before the lightning could reach its prey—

SZZZT—!!

A figure blurred into its path, twin blades crossing in a downward arc.

Ronan's strike carved the bolt apart, the crackling energy detonating into harmless sparks that fizzled against the ground.

Magus's eyebrow twitched upward, the faintest crack in his composure.

"…He's fast."

Across from him, Ronan stood unwavering. The purple aura surged violently around him, his dual swords humming with restrained power. His gaze was locked on Magus, sharp and merciless.

That calm face. That sage-like expression. The crimson hair flowing behind him like rivers of blood. And now, two distinct techniques unleashed in their brief exchange.

Ronan's suspicion was no longer suspicion—it was fact.

This is him.

The Dark Emissary. The very one who had nearly ended Aiden's life.

Ronan's voice cut through the air like a blade dipped in ice.

"Didn't you hear what I said earlier?"

Magus tilted his head slightly, as though curious.

"I told you…"

The purple glow in Ronan's eyes flared violently, surging severalfold, his aura expanding like a predator's roar.

"…I am your opponent."

To be continued…....

AUTHOR'S NOTE

That's the chapter, everyone!

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– Ultra