Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner

”Hold.”

Everyone froze.

Noah glanced at Lucas, but Lucas was already tense, waiting for her report.

Bailey’s breathing was controlled, but there was something sharp in her tone.

”There’s a rhythm,” she whispered. ”A... beat.”

Noah frowned. ”What?”

”A pulse,” Bailey clarified. ”Like a heartbeat.”

A slow, deliberate thump-thump. Faint, but consistent.

Bailey’s voice dropped to a whisper.

”Someone’s watching you.”

Silence.

Then—nothing.

The pulse vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only the quiet hum of distant city traffic. Bailey adjusted her headset, brow furrowed in concentration.

”It’s gone,” she muttered, fingers brushing the ground. ”Could be interference from the old wiring systems. These dorms haven’t been renovated in years.”

Lucas studied the area, eyes scanning the shadows. After a moment, he nodded. ”Keep monitoring. We move forward.”

They pressed on, staying close to the walls. The storage wing loomed ahead, its aged concrete walls a stark contrast to the sleek modern architecture of the main building. Noah noticed a peculiar gap in the security setup—a blind spot where cameras seemed to overlap incorrectly, creating a perfect entry point.

’Too convenient,’ he thought, but said nothing. Sometimes luck was just luck.

The team was halfway to the storage entrance when the lights flickered. Once, twice, then complete darkness swept through the section. Emergency lights should have kicked in, but they remained dead.

”Power outage,” Lucas whispered through the comms. ”Bailey?”

”Local grid disruption. Isolated to this section only.”

Lucas gestured to Noah. ”We’ll check it out. Rest of you, hold position.”

They moved forward carefully, their footsteps nearly silent on the concrete. The darkness was thick, almost tangible, broken only by the distant glow of city lights. Then—a metallic clang echoed through the corridor, like a vent cover being knocked loose.

Noah’s head snapped toward the sound. There, at the edge of his vision—a shadow, darker than the surrounding darkness, ducking around a corner.

Without thinking, he moved. ”Contact,” he whispered into the comm, already accelerating.

”Noah, wait—” Lucas started, but another sound drew his attention—a mechanical whir behind them.

The security doors slammed shut with a thunderous boom, cutting off their retreat. Red emergency lights finally flickered to life, casting everything in a bloody glow.

”Bulkhead’s sealed,” Lucas’s voice crackled through the comm. ”Team’s cut off. Noah, status?”

But Noah was already too far ahead, chasing the phantom figure through the winding corridors. Each turn revealed another glimpse—a flutter of movement, a displaced shadow, always just out of reach.

’Fast,’ he thought, increasing his pace. ’But not fast enough.’

The chase led him deeper into the building, past empty classrooms and locked offices. The emergency lights created strange patterns on the walls, making the shadows dance and shift. Something felt off about their movement, but he couldn’t focus on that now. The target was close.

One more turn, and—

Dead end.

Noah skidded to a stop, eyes narrowing. The corridor ended in a solid wall, no doors, no vents, nowhere for anyone to hide. But then he felt it—a presence behind him, calm and controlled.

He turned slowly.

A girl stood at the other end of the corridor, her white hair nearly luminescent in the emergency lighting. She wasn’t in a combat stance. She didn’t need to be.

Noah tensed. He’d never seen her before, but something about her stance set off warning bells. This wasn’t some random student caught out of bed. The way she held herself, the calm focus in her eyes—this was someone trained. Someone dangerous.

’Not a target,’ he realized. ’A hunter.’

She studied him with mild curiosity, head tilting slightly. ”First year?” she asked, her voice soft and measured. ”Interesting choice, Lucas.”

Before Noah could respond, the air changed. It became... heavy, somehow. Thick. Moving his arm required effort, like pushing through invisible syrup. Even breathing felt wrong, as if the air itself had gained weight.

He tried to step forward, but his foot barely moved. The air around him had become a trap, a bubble where physics itself seemed to break down. Sound died in his throat as he tried to speak, the vibrations of his vocal cords sluggish and weak.

’Can’t move. Can’t breathe properly. Can’t...’

The stillness was absolute, a terrible, suffocating kind of quiet that made every heartbeat feel like thunder. The white-haired girl watched him with those impossibly calm eyes, and Noah realized with growing horror that this was just the beginning.

She was only using a fraction of her power.

’This,’ he thought distantly, ’might be a problem.’

Meanwhile, Lucas faced his own revelation. The bulkhead sealed him in, the team trapped on the other side. He could hear muffled sounds of combat—Oba’s grunt of surprise, Bailey’s sharp intake of breath, Micah’s frustrated curse.

’They need help,’ he thought, but the door mechanism was fried. The only way forward was through the service tunnel ahead. He moved quickly, following the red emergency lights until he reached the access hatch.

It opened with surprising ease.

The tunnel beyond was well-lit, unlike the rest of the section. Clean too, as if recently maintained. Lucas stepped through, every sense alert for danger.

He made it exactly ten steps before a slow clap echoed through the space.

”I have to admit,” a familiar voice called out, ”I thought you’d be harder to split up.”

Lucas turned, muscles tensing as he recognized the figure stepping out of the shadows.

Jayden Smoak smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

”Hello, old friend.”

The realization hit Lucas like a physical blow. This wasn’t an infiltration.

It was an ambush.

Back in the corridor, Noah felt the air change. It became... heavy, somehow. Thick. Moving his arm required effort, like pushing through invisible syrup. Even breathing felt wrong, as if the air itself had gained weight.

The white-haired girl took a single step forward, her movement fluid and precise. ”I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I? Since you came all this way to visit.” Her voice carried a hint of amusement. ”Diana Frost. Second seat of Academy 8.”

Noah’s eyes widened. Second seat? He’d heard whispers about the top ranks of other academies, but they were just stories to first years like him. Until now.

”Don’t fight it,” she advised, her tone almost sympathetic as she watched him struggle against the invisible force. ”It only makes it worse,”

The stillness was absolute, a terrible, suffocating kind of quiet that made every heartbeat feel like thunder. Diana watched him with those impossibly calm eyes, and Noah realized with growing horror that this was just the beginning.

He could feel it in the way she held herself, in the casual confidence of her stance—she was only using a fraction of her power.

’So this,’ he thought distantly, watching his breath fog in the unnaturally still air, ’is what the power of a number 2 feels like. This is what we walked into.’

Behind the sealed bulkhead, the night erupted into chaos.

Bailey felt him before she saw him—a void in her sound mapping, a place where echoes simply ceased to exist. She didn’t need to turn around.

”Still hiding in shadows, Milo?” Her voice carried a hint of old rivalry.

A low chuckle emerged from the darkness behind her. ”Still playing with sound waves, Bailey?” Milo’s voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. ”Some things never change.”

The shadows around them began to writhe, taking on substance and weight. Bailey’s fingers twitched, ready. They’d done this dance before.

Above, Micah found himself face-to-face with Maya, her silver hair catching what little light remained. She perched on a maintenance platform, legs dangling casually over the edge as if this were just another late-night chat.

”Gravity boy,” she said, lips curving into a familiar smirk. ”Been a while.”

Micah cracked his knuckles, floating a few feet off the ground. ”Light show,” he returned the greeting. ”Still playing with illusions?”

Maya’s response was immediate—the world around Micah fractured into a thousand refractions, light bending and twisting until up became down and solid ground became questionable reality.

Meanwhile, Oba faced Viktor across the courtyard, neither moving, both remembering their last encounter. Viktor’s force fields had left Oba with three broken ribs. Oba’s redirected energy had put Viktor in the medical wing for a week.

”No hard feelings about last time?” Viktor asked, already raising his hands as translucent barriers began forming in the air.

Oba’s response was a slight shift in stance, his body ready to absorb and redirect any impact. ”Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The air crackled with tension as both combatants waited for the other to make the first move. They knew each other’s abilities too well for reckless attacks.

’Different battleground,’ Oba thought, studying the layout. ’Different stakes.’

Bailey’s fingers brushed the ground, sending out pulses of sound that mapped Milo’s growing shadow construct. ’He’s gotten faster,’ she noted, feeling the darkness spread like ink through water.

Micah hovered, trying to distinguish reality from Maya’s light show. ’New tricks,’ he thought, watching as the world kaleidoscoped around him. ’But the principle’s the same. Light can’t change gravity.’

They were all veterans of previous clashes, familiar with each other’s basic moves and countermoves. But something felt different tonight. The stakes were higher, the intent sharper.

These weren’t training exercises or competition matches.

This was war.

Viktor struck first, launching a barrage of force field projectiles that turned the air into a maze of transparent razors. Oba moved like water, each dodge precise, letting the momentum build for his counterattack.

Above, Maya’s light show intensified, fracturing reality into a dizzying array of false images while Micah relied on his gravity sense to stay oriented.

And in the shadows, Bailey and Milo began their deadly game of cat and mouse, sound waves clashing against living darkness.

The night was about to become very, very interesting.