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

Night time passed quickly and by dawn, the entire area was buzzing.

Recruits were already moving through the clearing, rolling up bedrolls, stamping out dying fires, organizing gear the way people do when they’ve done the same thing multiple times and know what needs to happen. The air carried that particular energy of imminent departure, conversations happening in quick bursts between tasks, people checking their belongings one final time before the journey back.

The sky was lightening from deep purple to pale blue, the stars fading one by one as the sun prepared to crest the horizon. Birds were waking up, their calls echoing through the forest surrounding the clearing. The temperature was cool but not uncomfortable, the kind of morning that promised a decent day for hiking.

Noah sat near the remains of their fire, watching the organized chaos while Nami packed their shared supplies. She moved with care, folding blankets into tight squares, securing straps on bags, making sure nothing would shift or rattle during the walk back.

Pip appeared from the direction of the yellow section of camp, his own bag already slung over his shoulder, his hair even more disheveled than usual. He was grinning in a way that suggested he had something to say and was very pleased with himself for thinking of it.

”Morning,” Pip said cheerfully, plopping down on the log beside Noah. ”Sleep well?”

”Well enough,” Noah replied.

”Good, good.” Pip’s grin widened. ”Funny thing though. I woke up around midnight, needed to relieve myself, you know how it is. Walked past your sleeping area on the way back and noticed something interesting.”

He paused dramatically.

”Both of you were gone. Like, completely absent. Empty bedrolls, no sign of either of you anywhere in camp.”

Nami’s hands stilled on the bag she was packing. Her shoulders tensed slightly, though her face remained neutral when she turned to look at Pip.

”So?” she asked, her tone carefully casual.

”So,” Pip continued, his grin somehow getting wider, ”I’m not judging or anything. You’re both adults, technically. Well, close enough anyway. And honestly, you two fit together pretty well. The serious focused type and the mysterious strong silent type. Classic pairing, really. I’ve read enough stories to know how this goes.”

”Pip,” Nami said, her voice dropping into a warning tone.

”I’m just saying!” Pip held up his hands defensively, though his expression remained gleeful. ”Disappearing into the woods together in the middle of the night, coming back before dawn. I can put two and two together. And like I said, no judgment. If anything, I think it’s—”

”I could never be with Burt,” Nami cut him off sharply.

The words came out harder than probably intended, carrying an edge that made Pip’s grin falter slightly. Nami’s face had flushed, whether from anger or embarrassment was difficult to tell, but her jaw was set in that stubborn way that suggested the topic was absolutely closed.

”We weren’t together,” she continued, her voice firm. ”We both happened to need some air at the same time. That’s all. Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen. Ever.”

She turned back to her packing with movements that were slightly too aggressive, shoving items into the bag with more force than necessary.

Pip looked between them, his expression shifting from teasing to uncertain. ”I was just joking around. Didn’t mean to—”

”It’s fine,” Nami said, not looking at him. ”Just drop it.”

An awkward silence settled over their small group. Pip fidgeted with his bag strap, clearly regretting his attempt at humor.

Nami glanced sideways at Noah. Just a quick look, her eyes flicking toward him and then away. Like she was checking for something. Waiting for something.

Noah said nothing. His attention had already drifted, his mind turning over thoughts about the Black Room that Valen had mentioned yesterday. What would it actually be like? The recruit who’d explained it had said people died there sometimes, that it was the final test before becoming a dragon knight. And the reward was a blessed item, something that bonded with you specifically.

’Like Ego’s hammer,’ Noah thought, remembering Render and how the weapon had moved with the Dragon Knight, how it had seemed almost alive in his hands. ’If I could get something like that, something that actually enhances my capabilities instead of just adding redundant power, that would be worth the risk.’

He was vaguely aware of Nami still looking at him, could feel her gaze even without meeting it directly. But whatever she was waiting for, whatever response she expected, Noah didn’t provide it. His thoughts were elsewhere entirely, already past this moment and moving toward what came next.

After several seconds of silence, Nami made a small frustrated sound and returned to her packing with renewed intensity.

Pip cleared his throat awkwardly. ”So, uh, when do you think we’re moving out? Looks like most people are almost ready.”

”Soon probably,” Noah replied, finally engaging with the conversation again. ”Valen said we’re heading back this morning. No reason to delay.”

”Right, yeah.” Pip stood, clearly eager to escape the tension he’d accidentally created. ”I’m gonna go check on my actual roommate, make sure he hasn’t forgotten half his gear like usual. See you guys on the trail?”

”Sure,” Noah said.

Pip left quickly, his usual bouncy energy slightly subdued.

Nami finished packing in silence. When everything was secured, she stood and brushed dirt from her pants with deliberate care, her movements controlled in a way that suggested she was working very hard to appear completely normal.

”We should get ready to move,” she said, her tone perfectly neutral now, all traces of earlier frustration smoothed away. ”Looks like they’re forming up.”

Noah nodded and stood, grabbing his own bag. Around them, the clearing was indeed organizing into something resembling formation. Instructors were calling out instructions, directing recruits to gather by color, preparing for the march back to training camp.

The column formed with less chaos than their departure had involved. People knew the drill now, understood the pace and formation. Reds clustered toward the front, yellows in the middle, greens taking up the rear with instructors scattered throughout to maintain order.

Noah, Nami, and Pip found their usual position in the middle section, the three of them falling into step together as the column began moving. The awkwardness from earlier had faded somewhat, replaced by the simple focus required for hours of hiking through forest terrain.

Werner’s voice carried back from the front of the red section, already talking loudly about the competition results.

”Hundred plus cores,” he was saying with obvious pride. ”That’s more than double what yellows managed, and greens barely broke eighty. Total red domination, exactly like I predicted.”

His friends laughed and agreed, their voices mixing with similar conversations happening throughout the red section. Pride and satisfaction evident in every word.

The yellows were quieter, conversations more subdued. They’d come in second, which wasn’t terrible, but the gap between them and the reds was larger than most had expected.

The greens seemed almost relieved to have the competition over, their discussions focused more on getting back to regular training than on dwelling on results.

The forest path was easier to navigate in daylight, the morning sun filtering through the canopy and illuminating the trail clearly. The temperature rose gradually as they walked, comfortable warmth replacing the dawn chill.

Hours passed in steady hiking. They stopped once around midday for a brief meal, recruits spreading out to rest sore feet and drink from canteens. The conversations during the break were relaxed, the competitive tension from the past week fading now that results were settled.

When they resumed, the afternoon stretched out in more walking, more forest, more gradual progress toward camp. Noah let his mind wander, thinking through what he’d learned during the competition, analyzing the techniques he’d used, planning how to continue improving.

The Vital Point Technique was close to mastered now. He could execute it consistently, could maintain concentration through combinations and sequences. But there had to be more to it, deeper applications he hadn’t discovered yet.

’Valen said it was about disrupting energy distribution at junction points,’ Noah thought, watching the path ahead blur slightly as his enhanced perception picked out details in the undergrowth. ’But that’s just the basic application. There’s probably advanced variations, ways to chain disruptions or target multiple points simultaneously. Something to ask about once we’re back.’

By late afternoon, familiar landmarks began appearing. Trees he recognized from the journey out, clearings they’d passed before. The training camp was close.

’Not exactly the route we followed to get to the hunting grounds. Did the instructors do that intentionally?’

Or maybe they had a different reason besides making them walk for days to get to the hunt site. Either ways, Noah wasn’t going to push it further.

When they finally emerged from the forest and saw the wooden palisade walls, a collective sigh of relief went through the column. Home, or as close to home as any of them had in this place.

The gates stood open, instructors waiting inside to receive them. The recruits filed through in orderly fashion, their earlier formation dissolving as people headed toward their respective barracks, eager to drop heavy bags and collapse onto actual beds.

Noah was walking toward the red barracks when a voice called out across the central yard.

”All recruits to the assembly area! Immediately!”

It was Constable Ironside, his massive frame unmistakable even at a distance. His voice carried that particular quality of command that made ignoring it literally unthinkable.

The crowd of tired recruits changed direction, flowing toward the large open space used for announcements and general assemblies. Bags were dropped unceremoniously, people finding spots to stand while maintaining rough color groupings.

Ironside waited on the raised platform, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Valen and the other instructors stood behind him, their faces similarly neutral.

When everyone had gathered and the noise had died down to acceptable levels, Ironside spoke.

”Welcome back,” he said simply. His voice didn’t need to be loud to carry across the assembled crowd. Something about his presence made everyone instinctively quiet to hear him. ”You’ve completed your first major challenge as recruits. The color competition tested your abilities to work as teams, to apply techniques under pressure, to function in wilderness conditions. Some of you exceeded expectations. Others revealed weaknesses that need addressing.”

He paused, letting that statement settle.

”The results are as follows. Red placed first with one ninety seven cores submitted. Yellow placed second with one hundred and twelve cores. Green placed third with nighty eight cores.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Those numbers confirmed what everyone already knew, but hearing them stated officially made them real.

”Red section,” Ironside continued, his eyes scanning the assembled recruits wearing red armbands, ”you performed well. Your coordination was solid, your combat capabilities were demonstrated effectively. However.”

That single word silenced the celebrating reds immediately.

”Do not let this victory make you complacent. The competition was designed as a learning experience, not as validation that you’re already finished with your training. You have a long way to go before any of you are ready to face actual dragons.”

His gaze shifted to the yellows.

”Yellow section, your precision skills were evident in your core collection rate relative to your numbers. One hundred plus cores from a smaller group shows efficiency. But your hesitation in direct engagement situations was noted. Precision means nothing if you’re too afraid to take the shot when it matters.”

The yellows shifted uncomfortably under his assessment.

”Green section,” Ironside’s tone softened slightly, though his expression remained stern, ”ninety-eight cores despite being the smallest color group and having the least direct combat capability shows initiative and adaptability. However, your support coordination needs significant improvement. Reports observed multiple instances where healers and enhancers were working independently instead of as a cohesive unit. That will get people killed in real combat.”

He straightened, addressing everyone again.

”Rest today. Tomorrow, regular training resumes. There’s been some change of plans. So in three days, we begin preparation for the Black Room trials.

”Dismissed,” Ironside said.

The crowd dispersed slowly, conversations starting in hushed tones as people processed what they’d just heard. The Black Room. Three days. The final trial that would determine who actually became dragon knights and who washed out.

Noah walked toward the barracks with Nami and Pip, all three of them quiet.

”Three days,” Pip said finally, his usual quick speech pattern subdued. ”That’s not much time to prepare for something that supposedly kills people regularly.”

”Maybe that’s the point,” Nami replied. ”Can’t really prepare for the unknown. Just have to be ready for anything.”

They reached the barracks and split up, Pip heading to his room while Noah and Nami continued to theirs.

Inside, the familiar space felt almost luxurious after a week of sleeping on the ground. Noah dropped his bag and collapsed onto his bed without bothering to unpack.

”I’m going to sleep for twelve hours,” Nami announced, doing the same on her own bed. ”Maybe longer. Wake me if the camp catches fire, otherwise I’m dead to the world.”

Noah smiled slightly but didn’t respond. His mind was already turning over the announcement, thinking about the Black Room, about what it might contain, about what kind of trial would be dangerous enough that veteran instructors warned about it with genuine concern.

’Three days,’ he thought, staring at the ceiling. ’Three days until whatever comes next.’

In a meeting room on the far side of camp, the instructors gathered around a table covered in papers and reports. Maps of the competition area, tallies of core submissions, notes on individual recruit performance.

Valen stood at the head of the table, his scarred face thoughtful as he organized the documents.

”Overall assessment?” Instructor Sareth asked, taking her seat.

”Better than last year’s group,” Valen replied. ”More competent across the board. Though the usual patterns held. Reds dominated through raw capability, yellows showed precision but lacked aggression, greens adapted but need better coordination.”

”The core numbers were interesting,” Instructor Thane added, pulling out a specific report. ”Reds submitted one hundred ninety-seven. That’s significantly higher than what we typically see from first-time competition groups.”

”They got lucky,” Sareth suggested. ”Found a good hunting ground, managed their time well.”

”Maybe,” Valen said slowly. ”Or maybe there’s more to it.”

He pulled out another document, this one showing detailed notes about the competition area itself.

”Before we sent the recruits out, we did a sweep of the hunting grounds. Standard procedure, clearing out any threats that would be too dangerous for trainees to handle. During that sweep, we encountered a nest of beetle creatures.”

The other instructors nodded. They all remembered that fight.

”Tough bastards,” Thane commented. ”Took four of us to clear them out, and we nearly lost Instructor Bren when that big one caught him with its mandibles.”

”Exactly,” Valen agreed. ”Very tough. Heavily armored, aggressive, and they fought in coordinated groups. Dragons are easier to assess sometimes because their color and size tell you a lot about what you’re facing. But beasts? A small one can be vicious, a large one can be docile. These beetles looked manageable at first glance, but they fought like demons. We killed maybe a dozen of them, thought we’d cleared the nest completely.”

He paused, looking at each instructor in turn.

”When the reds started submitting cores, I noticed something. The smell was familiar. Very distinctive, kind of pungent, almost sulfuric. I didn’t place it immediately, but after the second day of submissions, it clicked. These were the same type of creatures we’d fought during our initial sweep.”

”You think we missed some?” Sareth asked.

”More than some. We found evidence of a queen colony that we’d completely overlooked. Which explains why there were more of these beetles around despite our sweep. They’d been spawning from a secondary nest we didn’t know existed.”

”So the reds lucked into finding a whole new nest of these things,” Thane said. ”That would explain the high core count.”

”Except here’s the problem,” Valen continued, his tone growing more serious. ”These beetles gave us a real fight. Four experienced dragon knight instructors struggled to take down a couple dozen of them. Now we’re supposed to believe a group of recruits, most of them barely trained, managed to kill enough of these creatures to harvest one hundred ninety-seven cores?”

The room went quiet as that implication sank in.

”We investigated,” Valen said. ”After the competition ended, before bringing everyone back. We went to the area where the reds had been operating and found their hunting site.”

He pulled out a final document, this one containing sketches and detailed notes.

”Hundreds of dead beetles. Just piled up in this massive clearing, all of them showing similar kill marks. Small penetration wounds, precisely placed, exactly the kind of damage the Vital Point Technique is designed to create.”

”So someone who knew the technique killed them all,” Sareth said slowly.

”Not just someone who knew it. Someone who’d mastered it. Every single beetle we examined had been killed with perfect precision. No wasted strikes, no panic damage, just clean kills that targeted the exact weak points needed to bring them down without wasting effort.”

”Another instructor?” Thane suggested. ”Maybe someone from a different camp happened to be in the area?”

”We would have known. And no other knights were operating in that region during the competition period. We checked.”

”A hunter then? Some local who’s been working that area for years?”

”Hunters don’t use the Vital Point Technique. That’s a dragon knight specific method, taught exclusively in our training programs.”

Valen let them work through the logic themselves, watching their faces as understanding dawned.

”It was one of the recruits,” Sareth said finally. ”Had to be. Someone in the red group has capabilities far beyond what they should possess at this stage of training.”

”Not just someone in the red group,” Valen corrected quietly. ”We know exactly who it was.”

He pulled out a final paper, this one showing a simple name written at the top.

Burt, son of Aldric.

”The same recruit who cracked the dragon scale board,” Thane said, leaning forward to study the report. ”The one who mastered the Vital Point Technique in a single afternoon. The anomaly we’ve been tracking since day one.”

”He killed hundreds of those beetles,” Valen said flatly. ”Alone, presumably, since no other recruit shows signs of that level of capability. Then he somehow convinced or allowed the other reds to claim the cores as their own kills, letting them take credit for his work.”

”Why would he do that?” Sareth asked.

”Good question. Maybe to avoid attention. Maybe to help his color win. Maybe he just doesn’t care about recognition. Point is, we have a recruit who can single-handedly eliminate threats that challenge veteran instructors, and he’s doing it while pretending to be a normal trainee.”

The door opened and Constable Ironside entered, his massive frame filling the doorway. The other instructors straightened slightly in their seats, automatic respect for the senior instructor.

”Discussing the anomaly, I presume?” Ironside’s deep voice rumbled across the room.

”Yes sir,” Valen confirmed. ”We’ve confirmed that Burt was responsible for the bulk of the red section’s core count. He killed hundreds of those beetle creatures by himself.”

Ironside moved to the table, his eyes scanning the reports spread across its surface. He picked up the document about the beetle kills, reading through the details with careful attention.

”Interesting,” he said finally, setting the paper down. ”The boy continues to exceed expectations while simultaneously hiding his true capabilities. Tell me, Valen, these beetles you encountered during your sweep. How would you rate their danger level?”

”Significant,” Valen replied immediately. ”Individually dangerous, exponentially more so in groups. Their armor is thick enough to deflect most conventional attacks, their mandibles can shear through alloy steel, and they coordinate their movements like a trained military unit. If we had a proper system for classifying these things, they’d be up there with the most serious threats we face.”

”And yet a seventeen-year-old recruit eliminated hundreds of them using a technique he supposedly just learned?”

”Yes sir.”

Ironside was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

”Here’s what troubles me most,” he said finally. ”It’s not that the boy is strong. Exceptional recruits show up occasionally, prodigies with natural talent that exceeds the norm. What troubles me is the control he demonstrates. The precision. The ability to modulate his power so effectively that he can pretend to be average when he’s clearly operating at levels that rival our veteran knights.”

”You think he has formal training,” Sareth said.

”I think he has extensive combat experience,” Ironside corrected. ”Training teaches you techniques, but experience teaches you judgment. The boy knows exactly how much force to apply in any given situation. Knows how to read opponents, how to exploit weaknesses, how to end fights without wasting effort. That’s not something you learn from practice dummies and sparring matches. That comes from real combat against real threats.”

”His background check showed nothing,” Thane reminded them. ”Tavern worker from a small town. No military service, no combat academy, no connection to any knight organizations. Just a normal kid from a normal family.”

”Then either the background check is incomplete, or the boy is lying about his past,” Ironside said simply. ”One or the other. And frankly, at this point, I’m not sure which option is more concerning.”

He straightened, his decision clearly made.

”The Black Room will reveal the truth,” Ironside said, his voice carrying absolute certainty. ”You can’t hide what you are when you’re facing death. You can’t pretend to be weak when survival requires everything you have. The Black Room strips away deception, forces people to show their real capabilities or die trying.”

He looked at each instructor in turn.

”Three days from now, we’ll send them in. And when they come out, we’ll know exactly who Burt really is. The strong ones who’ve been pretending to be weak will be exposed. The weak ones who’ve been acting strong will break. The Black Room doesn’t lie.”

Ironside moved toward the door, then paused.

”One more thing. Increase the difficulty of their preparation training. If the boy is as capable as we suspect, then our standard regimen is too easy. Push them harder. Make the next three days count.”

He left without waiting for acknowledgment, the door closing behind him with quiet finality.

The remaining instructors sat in silence for several moments.

”Well,” Thane said eventually, ”this year’s class just got significantly more interesting.”

”Interesting,” Sareth repeated, a slight smile on her face. ”That’s one word for it.”

Valen gathered the papers, organizing them into neat stacks.

”Three days,” he said. ”Then we’ll see what the Black Room reveals. Whatever Burt is hiding, whatever capabilities he’s been holding back, it’ll all come out.”

He looked at the sketch of the beetle kill site one more time, at the notes describing hundreds of precise kills executed with perfect technique.

”I just hope,” Valen added quietly, ”that we’re ready for what we find out.”

The instructors filed out slowly, each of them carrying the weight of what they’d discussed.

Three days until the Black Room.

Three days until the truth, whatever that truth turned out to be.

In the barracks, Noah lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about blessed items and final trials and whatever waited in a room that supposedly killed recruits regularly.

He had no idea that the instructors were watching him specifically, that they’d figured out his connection to the beetle kills, that they were preparing to push him harder than anyone else.

All he knew was that in three days, something significant would happen.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, the quest notification still sat unchanged.

[Main Quest: Extinguish the Flames]

[Objective: Unknown]

[Progress: 0%]

Three days until the Black Room.

Three days until everything changed.