E-Rank or SSS-Rank: I Awakened a Skill That Shouldn't Exist
Chapter 174: Ron’s Last Stand

Chapter 174: Ron’s Last Stand <Grand>

Chapter 174

The door to the vast chamber slammed open as a group of enforcers in dark uniforms stormed in—only to stop dead in their tracks.

Crackling arcs of lightning still danced wildly across the ruined room, even though the battle had long ended. The electricity wasn’t just for show—getting caught in one of those stray bolts meant instant regret, maybe even death. Jagged cracks webbed across the floor and walls, signs of a clash between forces beyond reason—like two titans had collided here.

Yet it wasn’t the damage that left the enforcers frozen. It was the lone figure lying at the far end of the room.

One of the officers cautiously stepped forward, carefully avoiding the deadly lightning streaks, and approached the fallen body. Gasps echoed behind him as others recognized who it was.

"Crimson Scales," he whispered. The infamous Class S hero lay unconscious—beaten, bloodied, and utterly still.

"Who the hell could’ve done this?" one enforcer asked in a hushed voice.

His partner didn’t answer immediately, his eyes fixed on his unmoving form. "I... I don’t know. But if it was that young guy from earlier... we’re lucky we weren’t the ones sent in to deal with him."

Nods followed his words. They all came to the same terrifying conclusion: anyone capable of putting down Crimson Scales—one of the most feral, unstoppable Class S heroes—was no ordinary opponent.

That was a monster.

No... an elite monster.

---

Meanwhile, far from Arc...

Aboard the massive guild airship Zom, Han stood stiffly, fists clenched at his sides, eyes focused ahead.

"It has to be them," he muttered through gritted teeth. "The Cursed... damn them."

Moments earlier, during his own skirmish with the elusive Crimson Scales, he’d received an urgent system alert. As a guild leader, every elite under his command was tracked. When Ron’s health bar plummeted into the red zone, he knew something had gone horribly wrong.

Ron was fighting for his life—or for Serenya’s.

Across from him, Aiden, Ronan, and Clara sat quietly in separate seats, their expressions grim. Ronan was healing but still far from full strength. Judging by Han’s tense demeanor and pale face, they understood: something was terribly wrong.

They needed to get to Serenya—fast.

---

Back in Serenya...

"AHHHHHH!"

A blood-curdling scream ripped from Ron’s throat as he clutched his bleeding torso. His face twisted in pain, but he refused to fall.

With a roar, he hurled his hammer into the air—though it hit nothing. Without missing a beat, he drew power into his fist until it glowed with raw energy, then slammed it into the earth beneath him.

The ground trembled violently. Stones tore free and shot in all directions, propelled like cannonballs toward his enemies—the twisted Third Eye freak and the metal-clad terror, Metallo.

Sensing imminent danger from the incoming boulders, Metallo reacted instantly. With a loud clang, he summoned a reinforced metallic dome around himself.

BOOOOOOM!

BAMMMMMM!

The impact of the attack echoed like thunder, shaking the very foundations of the battlefield.

The Third-Eye Freak, meanwhile, managed to narrowly evade the blast, leaping to a nearby rooftop. But just as he prepared to retaliate, a chill ran down his spine.

Ron was right in front of him.

He stood silently, holding the very Warhammer he had thrown skyward minutes ago.

Freak eye’s third eye widened in alarm. He tried to retreat—but it was too late.

A sudden, crushing pressure pressed down on the area.

Ron had activated the Warhammer’s gravitational skill.

Freak eye body stiffened, struggling under the multiplied weight. Ron didn’t hesitate. With a furious shout, he brought the Warhammer down—aiming directly for the third eye.

If that eye was destroyed, Freak eye would be nothing more than a cripple in this fight.

Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, the Third-Eye Freak twisted his body at the last second. The hammer struck his right shoulder instead.

CRACK!

The sound of bones shattering echoed across the battlefield.

Freak eye let out a sharp cry, unable to suppress the pain.

But Ron wasn’t done.

Like a berserker, he lifted his Warhammer again—ready to finish the job.

Swish!

Pain exploded through his torso.

Ron staggered, his eyes wide. Something had pierced his already injured stomach—deep and cruel.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the pain. Freak eye charged another beam from his third eye, hoping to end it—but Ron leapt back just in time, dodging the blast by inches.

Freak eye cursed under his breath.

Despite his injuries, despite everything thrown at him, Ron was still fighting.

Still standing.

---

Ron stood alone in the open field. His breaths came ragged and shallow.

He pressed a trembling hand to the ground, drawing energy from the earth to restore his stamina. But the exhaustion didn’t fade—it only grew worse.

"Ahh... ahh..."

His breathing was labored. His body screamed in agony.

He looked down at the metallic spear impaled through his gut, protruding straight out the other side. Blood poured from the wound.

With a growl, he gripped the spear—and yanked it out.

The pain was searing. But he didn’t cry out.

He tore a strip from his trousers and pressed it against the bleeding, tightening it with a makeshift knot. Then, slowly, he picked up his Warhammer again.

Still not done.

Still fighting.

---

From a distance, the two dark emissaries twitched, visibly unnerved.

They had been certain Ron would fall after that last brutal attack. But somehow... he was still standing.

Barely.

What they failed to realize, however, was that Ron wasn’t still on his feet because of strength—he was running on sheer willpower. The determination not to let Serenya fall was the only thing keeping him upright.

But even will has its limits.

Ron staggered, his body faltering as a pained yelp escaped his lips—quiet, yet loud enough for Metallo to hear.

Hope flickered in the metal man’s eyes.

Now.

He summoned a long metallic rapier and charged forward, aiming to end the battle in a single, decisive thrust.

But he never reached his target.

A frigid blast of frost surged through the air, enveloping him in an instant.

Crack!

Crrrrrreeeechhh...

In mere seconds, Metallo’s body slowed—then stiffened—as ice crawled up his limbs. His movements dulled, and the first signs of freezing overtook him.

He gritted his teeth and snapped his gaze toward the source of the attack.

Standing back to back with Ron was Laura.

The injury she had sustained earlier was now frozen over, sealed with her own ice. Her eyes burned—not with cold, but with unyielding fire.

"I’m not letting you die here," she said firmly.

Ron’s voice was rough. He tried to sound strong, but the strain was clear. "What are you doing, young miss...?"

"You can’t win alone. Please—let me help."

Laura readied her ability, power swirling around her.

Ron shook his head weakly. "You... still don’t have full control over your powers. It’s too dangerous..."

But Laura didn’t move.

She wasn’t going to run—not after everything Ron had done for her and Serenya.

---

FWOOM!

BOOM!

A bright yellow beam tore through the air toward Laura’s head.

Her eyes widened. She had no time to react.

But just in time, Ron raised his arm—blocking the blast.

The impact was brutal. Blood sprayed from his trembling hand—but it didn’t burst apart like it should have. Instead, he gritted his teeth and held his ground, silent in his agony.

Inside, he was breaking.

Every cell screamed.

He couldn’t fight much longer.

And time... was running out.

Where was Han? Where were the reinforcements?

---

Suddenly—

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

A terrifying scream erupted from ahead.

Laura snapped her head forward.

Metallo—eyes now glowing an unnatural crimson—had broken free of the ice.

His fury had evolved into something monstrous.

"You all need to DIE!!" he roared, voice booming across the battlefield.

He raised a hand to the sky.

All around them, metal groaned and shrieked. Doors, machines, shattered fragments of vehicles—every stray metallic object in the area began to shake violently, lifting into the air.

Then they started to form.

Laura’s breath caught in her throat.

Hundreds upon hundreds of metal spears, long and wicked, glowing with an ominous energy that screamed of death, floated above them like a cursed storm cloud.

Her blood turned to ice.

There was no way to dodge. No way to block. If those rained down—

They’d be obliterated.

Then—almost unwillingly—Laura’s eyes flicked toward the second emissary.

Her heart sank even further.

The third eye on the man’s forehead had begun to expand—glowing brighter with each passing second. Power pulsed from it like a bomb ready to go off.

Her knees buckled.

She dropped to the ground, breath hitching, despair washing over her like a wave.

How... how were they supposed to survive this?

This was it.

Laura was certain of it—she was going to die.

Even if, by some miracle, she managed to awaken her powers again like she had against the Red Vanguard, it wouldn’t be enough. Not against this. Not against the storm of death hurtling toward them.

It felt like final judgment had come.

Her breath hitched. Her limbs froze. Her heart pounded in helpless dread.

Then she felt a presence beside her.

Ron wasn’t looking at her with anger, fear, or frustration. His eyes were soft—gentle even.

He looked at her like an older brother would a younger sibling—concerned, protective. And in that moment, Laura realized... to Ron, that’s exactly what she was.

Just a girl. His junior sister.

She turned to him, confused, as he suddenly smiled.

Why the hell is he smiling?

Is he crazy? she thought.

Then—everything erupted.

Metallo’s spears of destruction rained down from the sky like a divine punishment. The Freak-Eye unleashed a barrage of glowing blasts—all of them aimed straight at the two of them.

Laura barely had time to react before Ron pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tightly in a protective hold.

Then—he moved.

He turned his broad back to the coming death, using his own body as a shield.

His entire frame began to glow a brilliant, golden yellow as he channeled every last drop of Earth Essence he had left. The very ground trembled beneath him as his body hardened like stone—like a living fortress.

And then... the hellstorm hit.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The first wave of spears slammed into him with bone-crushing force. His stone body held—for a while. But the attacks didn’t stop.

And Ron’s defense began to crack.

Blow after blow crashed down. The glowing yellow aura dimmed... then flickered... and finally—vanished.

Then came the sound Laura would never forget.

Splorch. Crack. Tear.

The spears began to punch through.

They pierced his flesh. Shattered his bones. Tore into his legs, his arms—his chest. One drove straight through his heart.

But Ron never let go of her.

Laura remained cradled in his arms, barely scratched—his body had taken it all.

She stared, wide-eyed, frozen in disbelief. Her brain refused to process what she was seeing.

Then... silence.

The rain of spears stopped.

The battlefield went eerily still.

And somehow—somehow—Ron was still standing.

He staggered forward and slowly looked down at her, his lips still curled into that same warm, gentle smile.

Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes.

She could finally see it clearly—his condition.

He was riddled with wounds. Spears still impaled nearly every part of him—his arms, his thighs, his chest. Blood ran down like a crimson river. No normal man could survive that.

And even as an awakened warrior with a Prime Body, Ron was done for.

"Don’t cry for me..." he said weakly, the smile still on his face. "You see? I’m smiling myself."

Laura shook her head in disbelief, her chest aching, but Ron kept speaking—his voice fading, but his words piercing her soul.

"Please... tell the young master I tried. I really tried to help. I know he’ll understand."

Laura choked on a sob as his eyes dimmed slightly.

"And tell Kate... not to be sad. Let her know I’ll watch over her. And our child."

His voice trembled.

"I have work to do... on the other side. So I’ll be going first. But tell her... not to hurry over. That would break my soul."

His smile widened faintly.

"And if Lord Troy and Lady Shayla return... give them my regards. I wanted to thank them—for everything. But... I guess I won’t get the chance."

Laura was sobbing now, her body trembling as tears poured down her face. She clutched her chest as if trying to hold her heart together.

Ron gave her one last nod.

"Take care of yourself, Laura... and take care of those around you."

He turned away from her—toward Metallo and Freak-Eye.

His smile disappeared.

His eyes hardened.

Then—he raised his hammer with both hands.

Metallo flinched, startled at the sudden motion.

With what little strength he had left, Ron brought the hammer crashing down, unleashing a final shockwave that rippled across the battlefield.

It wasn’t meant to kill.

It was his farewell.

Ron smirked faintly.

"See you in hell... fuckers."

Then he exhaled—

—and never breathed again.

But he didn’t fall.

Ron remained upright, unmoving—his hammer still gripped tightly in both hands, planted firmly in the ground. His body, pierced and bloodied, stood like a monument carved from stone. Even in death, he protected what mattered most.

He died on his feet.

Not as a warrior defeated...

...but as a shield that never broke.

---

To be continued...

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