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

Meanwhile, halfway across the galaxy on Vanguard Station, Noah drove his fist into a combat training dummy with enough force to crack its reinforced casing.

[Training Hall 7 - Vanguard Station]

The restricted training facility was one of the few places Team 7 was allowed to go under their house arrest. Two guards stood by the entrance, monitoring their activities while pretending not to watch every move they made.

Noah moved through combat sequences with the kind of focused intensity that came from having too much anger and nowhere productive to channel it. Their normal station issued gear locked in station armory, so he trained hand-to-hand against AI opponents programmed to adapt to his fighting style.

Kelvin worked through technical exercises at a nearby station, his cybernetic enhancements interfacing with virtual combat simulations that tested his reaction time and strategic thinking. He’d been quieter since the interrogations, his usual joking demeanor replaced by something more thoughtful.

Diana practiced momentum manipulation drills in her section of the hall, redirecting kinetic energy in ways that made the training equipment behave in impossible ways. She moved with controlled fury, every technique executed with more force than strictly necessary.

Sophie stood at a tactical console running probability simulations, trying to find patterns in data that might help them understand what Arthur was planning. Her passive ability to manipulate chance made her uniquely suited for predictive analysis, but even she couldn’t find clear answers in the chaos of their situation.

”Again,” Noah muttered to himself, resetting his training dummy and launching into another sequence. Punch, dodge, counter, sweep—movements he’d practiced thousands of times but still felt inadequate when he remembered Arthur simply absorbing his best attacks like they were annoying insects.

”You’re going to break that thing,” Kelvin observed without looking up from his simulation. ”And then they’ll make us pay for it, which seems counterproductive.”

Noah didn’t respond, just hit the dummy harder.

Outside the training hall, other Vanguard recruits had gathered despite regulations discouraging loitering in restricted areas. They pressed against the observation windows, watching Team 7 train with expressions ranging from curiosity to concern to barely concealed jealousy.

”They don’t look like they’re in trouble,” someone muttered.

”Are you kidding? Look at Eclipse. He’s fighting like someone who wants to murder the universe.”

”I heard they went rogue for over a month. Just disappeared without telling anyone.”

”I heard they were on some classified mission that went bad. That’s why they’re restricted.”

The speculation had been building since Team 7’s return three days ago. Without official information, rumors filled the void with increasingly wild theories about what the station’s golden team had actually been doing.

Jackson from Team 3 pushed closer to the window. ”Whatever they did, they had their reasons. Eclipse and Grey saved my life on Sirius Prime. They fought Kruel when the rest of us were getting slaughtered. I’m not about to judge them without knowing the full story.”

”Kruel was different,” Sarah from Team 5 argued. ”That was authorized combat. This is desertion.”

”We don’t know it was desertion. Maybe they were following orders we’re not cleared to know about.”

”Then why are they under house arrest?”

The debate continued, opinions splitting along lines that reflected personal experiences with Team 7. Those who’d fought alongside them on Sirius Prime tended to be more supportive, remembering how Noah and Lucas had been the difference between survival and wholesale slaughter. Others who’d only known Team 7 by reputation were more skeptical, seeing their situation as evidence of arrogance or rule-breaking that had finally caught up with them.

In another section of the station’s training facilities, Lyra worked through combat drills with her new team—Pathfinder Team 4. Her teammates were competent but lacked the raw ability that had characterized Team 7. They moved through sequences with practiced efficiency, but nothing about them suggested the kind of exceptional talent that had made Noah’s squad legendary.

Recruits watching from the sidelines couldn’t help but speculate about the change.

”Why isn’t she with Team 7 anymore?”

”Maybe she couldn’t keep up. Those guys are monsters.”

”Or maybe something happened between them. You see how they don’t even look at each other in the commissary?”

”I heard she betrayed them somehow. That’s why she got transferred.”

”How do you betray your own team?”

None of them came close to the truth, but the speculation added another layer to the mystery surrounding Team 7’s situation. If even their own teammate had requested transfer, what did that say about the group’s internal dynamics?

Lyra executed a flawless takedown on her practice opponent, her movements showing the kind of training that went far beyond standard military instruction. She’d been shaped into a weapon since childhood, and it showed in ways that made experienced instructors uncomfortable.

But she said nothing about her past, nothing about her time with Team 7, nothing that might explain why she’d walked away from the station’s most celebrated squad to join a group of relative unknowns.

Meanwhile, in Commander Beaumont’s office, the three Vanguard commanders and Brooks gathered around a conference table covered in reports and data files. They’d been working for hours, cross-referencing Team 7’s testimony with every piece of independent information they could find.

”Bruce Hilton,” Mei said, pulling up a personnel file. ”SS-ranked telepath, one of the strongest psychics in EDF service. Retired after the Sirius Prime incident six months ago.”

”And he’s been missing for eight days,” Cassandra added, highlighting the relevant dates. ”Which perfectly aligns with Noah’s testimony about enlisting his help to track their enemy.”

Volkov studied the file with growing concern. ”Hilton could read thoughts from across star systems. If he really was helping these kids hunt someone, and that someone managed to capture him...”

”Then we’re dealing with a threat that can neutralize one of humanity’s most powerful assets,” Brooks finished. ”That’s not something to take lightly.”

Cassandra pulled up another file. ”Vex Marduk. Listed as a person of interest in multiple beast trafficking investigations across four star systems. Known to operate primarily in Grey family territory. And according to shipping records, his last known location was Raiju Prime approximately three weeks ago.”

”Matching the timeline Team 7 provided,” Mei observed. ”They said he was involved in illegal beast trade, that Noah’s companion came from one of his operations.”

”So we have an SS-ranked telepath who disappeared right when Team 7 says he was helping them, and a criminal trafficker who vanished from exactly where they claimed to encounter him,” Brooks said. ”That’s two independent confirmations of their story.”

Volkov wasn’t convinced. ”Or it’s two coincidences they wove into a larger narrative to make themselves look better. Hilton could have disappeared for any number of reasons. Vex could have gone underground to avoid prosecution.”

”You really think they fabricated all of this?” Cassandra asked. ”The original families, the pattern of disappearances, the attack on Earth—all of it just an elaborate story to cover up what, exactly?”

”I think traumatized kids who’ve been operating without oversight for five weeks might have constructed a narrative that makes their actions seem justified,” Volkov replied. ”I’m not saying they’re lying deliberately. I’m saying they might believe something that isn’t objectively true.”

Mei rubbed her temples. ”Whether their story is accurate or not, we have a bigger problem. First, If they turn out being right and saying the truth all along then it means one of the vanguard’s most promising soldier, Lucas Grey is currently missing. And secondly, the tribunal is in four days. We need to present something that either validates their account or proves it’s false. Right now, we’re stuck in this middle ground where nothing can be confirmed.”

”We need concrete evidence,” Brooks said. ”Something that proves the existence of this Eighth Ancestor beyond the testimony of five recruits who are already facing desertion charges.”

”And how exactly do we find that evidence?” Volkov asked. ”Send an expedition to Raiju Prime? Request access to original family records that are none of our business? Launch an investigation into century-old disappearance patterns that no one has ever been able to prove?”

The silence that followed spoke of shared frustration and the reality that they were running out of options. The commanders had put their careers on the line to protect Team 7, and now they couldn’t even prove the kids weren’t delusional or making everything up.

”There’s another angle,” Cassandra said slowly. ”The attack on Earth. EDF forces responded to that incident and filed reports about what they found.”

”Abandoned fortress belonging to a disbanded faction,” Mei replied. ”Nothing that supports the kids’ story about fighting some ancient enemy.”

”But there was damage consistent with high-level ability usage. Multiple bloodline types represented in the destruction pattern. Someone powerful fought there, even if we can’t prove who.”

Brooks pulled up the Earth incident reports, studying the forensic analysis with renewed attention. ”Shadow manipulation residue, blood constructs that had dissolved but left trace markers, metal forging evidence, electrical discharge patterns... the analysis confirms at least four different ability types were used in combat.”

”Which could support the theory of someone with access to multiple bloodlines,” Mei said thoughtfully. ”That’s unusual enough to warrant investigation.”

”It’s still not proof of an Eighth Ancestor,” Volkov countered. ”It’s proof that someone with diverse abilities fought at that location. Could be a team of different users working together.”

Cassandra leaned back in her chair, exhaustion evident in every line of her posture. ”So where does that leave us? Four days until a tribunal that could destroy these kids’ careers and possibly ours too. Evidence that’s suggestive but not conclusive. A story that sounds impossible but has just enough supporting details to make us wonder.”

”It leaves us exactly where we’ve been from the start,” Mei said quietly. ”Trying to protect assets we believe in while the system demands we prove they’re worth protecting.”

Brooks closed the file she’d been reviewing. ”Then we focus on what we can prove. Bruce Hilton is missing. Vex Marduk is missing. The Earth incident shows evidence of multiple ability types in combat. Team 7’s survival rate against Harbinger forces is exceptional. Their tactical decision-making under pressure has been consistently sound.”

”You’re building a character defense,” Volkov observed.

”Because that’s all we have. We can’t prove their enemy exists, but we can prove they’re not delusional kids making up stories. We can show that their actions, even if unauthorized, were based on reasonable conclusions from the information available to them.”

”Will it be enough?” Mei asked.

Nobody answered that question because they all knew the truth. Sometimes, being right wasn’t enough. Sometimes, following the rules mattered more than the reasons you broke them. And sometimes, the system destroyed people who tried to do the right thing in the wrong way.

The commanders sat in silence, surrounded by evidence that almost proved something while proving nothing conclusively.

In four days, they’d stand before a tribunal and argue for the futures of five young soldiers who might have uncovered a conspiracy that threatened the original families, or might have simply lost themselves in a story that made their desertion seem heroic instead of criminal.

For now, they didn’t know which version was true. And that uncertainty might be what destroyed them all.