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

Ever since Noah’s return, the Eclipse faction had been buzzing one way or another.

But there was one thing that didn’t create that much of a buzz, especially for the older members.

”Is he always such a hard worker?” someone said from the side of the dock. ”I mean the man comes back from literally nowhere, finds out his... what, mom or something died, and now he’s out here at the crack of dawn training our leaders to get stronger?”

”Yup.” The woman next to her didn’t even look away from the training area. ”Mentality monster. Heard he was the first human ever to fight a female Harbinger. The Widow. Solo.”

”Okay but also...” a third voice, lower, conspiratorial. ”Has anyone else noticed he got taller? Like when did that happen?”

”Girl.”

”I’m just saying what everyone is thinking.”

”You’re saying it out loud though.”

”The white hair too. I don’t know why it works but it works.”

”It really does.”

”Do you think he’s single? Like genuinely, actually single?”

”Four girlfriends.”

”...So?”

Laughter broke out down the line.

Noah was twenty feet away and could hear every word. He chose not to acknowledge this.

---

The training had been going for six days now and the progress was real but uneven, which was exactly what he had expected.

He had two posts set up in front of him, one for demonstration and one for whoever was currently going. The rest of the OGs were spread across the dock with their own posts, working through repetitions with the quiet focus of people who had accepted that this was going to take as long as it took.

”Lucas,” Noah said. ”Come here.”

Lucas walked over, wiping his knuckles on his training gear. He had been at his post for the last forty minutes and his post looked like it had been in a disagreement with something significantly larger than a human fist. Cracked at multiple points, composite material separating in lines that radiated from a central impact zone.

Noah looked at it.

”You’re almost there,” he said.

”Almost isn’t there,” Lucas said.

”No but almost means the gap is small. Your problem is the last ten percent of the movement. Everything before contact is right, the compression is right, the angle is right. Then right at the moment of impact your body adds force instead of maintaining the point.” Noah picked up a small piece of broken composite from the ground and held it up. ”You’re trying to hit through it. I need you to hit to a specific depth inside it. Like there’s a target two inches past the surface and that’s what you’re aiming for. Not the post. What’s behind the post.”

Lucas looked at the piece of composite. Then at his post. He walked back, reset his stance, and hit it.

The sound was different from every previous attempt. Still not a needle hole, still not clean, but the crack that ran through the post was narrower than before. Focused in a way it hadn’t been.

Lucas looked at it for a second. ”Hm.”

”That’s it,” Noah said. ”That feeling right there. Build on that.”

He moved down the line.

Seraleth had hit a wall two days ago and was still sitting in front of it. Not for lack of trying. She had probably put in more repetitions than anyone else out here, her post showing the evidence of that, practically destroyed at this point, but the destruction was spread across the surface rather than concentrated to a point.

”You’re thinking too much,” Noah said, stopping beside her.

She looked at him. ”I’m supposed to think. That’s how I learn things.”

”Not this one. This one has to stop being a thought and start being a reflex. Your body knows how to do it, I’ve seen it almost happen twice this week. You keep interrupting it right before it does.”

”How do I stop interrupting it?”

”Stop trying to feel it happen. Just hit the post.”

She looked at him like he had said something unhelpful.

”I know how that sounds,” he said. ”Do it anyway.”

She turned back to the post and hit it. Same result as the last twenty attempts.

”Again,” Noah said. ”But this time don’t think about the technique at all. Think about something else entirely.”

”Like what?”

”Anything. What did you have for breakfast?”

She blinked. ”Eggs.”

”Were they good?”

”They were acceptable.”

”Hit the post.”

She hit the post.

The crack that appeared was narrow. Concentrated. Not a needle hole but closer to one than anything she had produced in six days.

She stared at it.

”That,” Noah said, and moved on before she could overthink what had just happened.

Lila was at the far end of the line, working alone the way she usually worked, not asking for corrections, not looking for feedback, just repeating the movement over and over with the methodical patience of someone who had decided to solve the problem by sheer volume of attempts. Her post was in bad shape. She had been hitting it correctly maybe one in every eight tries, which was actually better than anyone except Lucas, but she kept losing the consistency.

Noah watched her for a few repetitions without saying anything.

She hit it wrong three times. Then on the fourth she got it, the sound of it distinct from the others, and she felt it too because she stopped and looked at her hand.

”You had it,” Noah said.

”I know.” She hit the post again. Wrong. ”And now I don’t.”

”What changes between the ones that work and the ones that don’t?”

She thought about it. Actually thought, not a quick answer. ”My shoulder.”

”Show me.”

She went through the motion slowly and Noah saw it, a small rotation in the shoulder on the windup that was throwing the angle off by just enough.

”Lock that joint earlier,” he said. ”Before the wind up starts, not during.”

She tried it. The next hit was clean.

She didn’t say anything. Just reset and did it again.

Clean again.

Noah left her to it.

---

Training wrapped up an hour later. The dock gradually emptied, people heading in for water and food, the usual post-session noise filling the space. Noah was putting the demonstration post aside when he spotted Diana at the far edge of the dock.

She was standing next to Kelvin, who was in the process of being toweled down in the way of someone who had absolutely earned it, his suit partially disassembled at the arms, the cybernetic left arm catching the morning light. Diana had a towel in her hands and she was dabbing sweat off the back of Kelvin’s neck with the easy familiarity of two people who had stopped performing anything around each other a long time ago.

Noah jogged over.

”Kelvin,” he said. ”Can I borrow her for a bit?”

Kelvin looked at Diana. Diana looked at Noah.

”Sure,” Kelvin said, taking the towel from Diana himself. ”I can finish this myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

”You have not,” Diana said.

”I have.”

”Kelvin you literally cannot reach the back of your own—”

”I’ll manage.” He kissed her on the side of the head. ”Go.”

---

They walked to the far end of the dock where the facility’s outer wall met the water, a quiet stretch with a view of the harbor surface above them, light filtering down through the water in shifting patterns.

Diana sat on the edge of the dock with her feet hanging. Noah sat beside her.

For a while neither of them said anything. The water moved. Somewhere above the facility a boat passed, its hull a dark shadow crossing the light.

”How’s the shoulder?” Noah asked.

”Better than last week.” She rolled it slightly. ”Kelvin has me on a recovery program. Very detailed. Very Kelvin.”

”Meaning there’s a spreadsheet.”

”Three spreadsheets.”

Noah smiled. He looked at her hand where it rested on her knee and saw the ring catching the light. Simple band, one stone, the kind of thing that didn’t need to announce itself.

”When did that happen?” he said.

Diana looked at the ring. Something in her face went soft in the way faces went soft when they landed on something they were still getting used to being real.

”Four months ago,” she said. ”He just... showed up at the workshop one evening. Didn’t make a big thing of it. Just sat down across from me and put the box on the table and said he wasn’t interested in waiting anymore.”

”That’s very Kelvin.”

”It really is.” She turned the ring slightly on her finger. ”I used to think I wasn’t built for this. The relationship thing. Like my whole life I was so focused on what my ability could do, what I could contribute, what role I filled. You know? Momentum nullification, the tactical session, being a damn good fine soldier, all of it. I never really thought about the rest.” She paused. ”Then I woke up and Kelvin was there. Had been there the whole time apparently. While I was in that coma he didn’t leave. Not once. Sam had to basically physically move him to get him to eat.”

She went quiet for a second.

”I owe him everything,” she said. ”Like not in a dramatic way. Just actually. He found the void stone. He fixed me. And before all of that he just... stayed. When there was no guarantee I was coming back, he stayed.” She looked at Noah. ”How do you not love someone like that with everything you have?”

Noah looked at the water.

”You don’t,” he said.

She nodded. They sat with that for a moment.

Then Noah said, ”How are you actually doing though. Not the shoulder.”

Diana’s hands went still on her knee.

”I’m fine,” she said.

”Diana.”

She exhaled. Looked at the harbor surface above them. ”I watch training every morning. I stand there and I watch everyone and I know exactly what I’d be doing if I was out there and I just...” She stopped. Started again. ”I was never the strongest person on the team. I know that. But I had a role. I knew what I brought. And right now I don’t bring anything and I don’t know when that changes and some days that’s fine and some days it’s really not fine.”

Noah let that sit without filling it immediately.

”I can’t fix the timeline,” he said after a moment. ”I can’t make the recovery faster or tell you exactly when you’ll be back to full capacity.” He looked at her. ”But I want to do something. If you’re willing.”

She looked at him. ”What kind of something?”

”The kind that gives you something to work with while you’re getting there.” He paused. ”I want you to meet someone.”

Diana looked around the dock. ”There’s no one here.”

”Not yet.” Noah looked out at the open space at the end of the dock. ”Shade,” he said quietly. Then, ”Mask.”

The light changed first.

Not dramatically. Just the shadows at the edge of the dock doing something shadows didn’t normally do, pooling in places where there was no source for them, thickening at the corners of Noah’s peripheral vision. Diana looked left. Then right. Then up.

”Noah,” she said. ”What’s—”

A sound came from nowhere.

Like souls being torn apart and tormented.

That was the only way to put it. A wailing that climbed up from somewhere beneath the dock and surrounded them completely, layered on top of itself, dozens of voices that had never been human screaming all at once. Diana’s head snapped left. Then right. The sound moved without moving, everywhere and nowhere, getting louder without getting closer and Diana’s hand found Noah’s arm without her deciding to reach for it.

Diana stood up.

”What is that noise,” she said, and her voice was doing a reasonable job of staying level.

The shadows kept moving. Something in her peripheral vision, large, there and then not there when she looked directly at it. She turned in a full circle trying to find it.

”Noah what is—”

She stepped back.

Hit something solid.

She turned around.

Shade was looking down at her.

Not from a distance. Right there. Close enough that she could see the texture of the scales, dark and slightly iridescent, the way they caught light differently depending on the angle. The eyes were unblinking, a pale amber that held her reflection in them, and the head was tilted at an angle that suggested genuine curiosity about what it was looking at.

Diana did not move for a full three seconds.

Then she said, ”Oh.”

She looked at Noah.

”So this is one of the ones Kelvin said you alluded to having.”

”Yes,” Noah said.

She looked back at Shade. Shade looked back at her with the same unblinking patience.

”He’s enormous,” she said.

”He is.”

”Is he going to do anything?”

”Not unless you do something first.”

She turned fully to face Shade, which took visible effort, and looked up at him properly. Shade’s head followed her movement with the slow tracking attention of something that had decided she was interesting.

”Okay,” Diana said, mostly to herself.

Noah walked over and stood beside her.

”I can’t fix what happened to you,” he said. ”But I can give you this. He’s bonded to me which means the connection won’t be the same as if you’d bonded him yourself. But he’ll respond to you. Protect you.” He looked at Shade. ”Think of him as support. Something in your corner while you’re getting back to yourself.” He paused. ”And if at any point you decide you don’t want him around anymore, he goes back. No questions. He’s not a replacement for your ability or your place on the team. He’s just...” Noah looked at Shade’s enormous frame, the dark scales, the unblinking eyes. ”A very large, very dangerous emotional support animal.”

Diana stared at him.

Then she punched him in the arm.

Then she hugged him, her arms not quite reaching around properly, her face somewhere around his collarbone.

He hugged her back.

When she pulled away her eyes were wet and she was clearly furious about that.

”So how does this work,” she said, composing herself. ”Do I just summon him? Does he have a call word? How does he know to come to me if he’s bonded to you?”

Noah opened his mouth.

Closed it.

”Ehh,” he said. ”That’s about as far as my plan went with this.”

Diana stared at him. ”You didn’t think past the dramatic entrance.”

”I thought past it a little.”

”How little.”

”I thought about giving him to you. The part after that needs some work.”

She looked at Shade. Shade looked at her. The tail moved slightly, a slow sweep across the dock.

”We’ll figure it out,” Noah said. ”We’ll spend some time, you and him, see how the dynamic develops. The bond might extend partially just from proximity and time. It’s not exact science.”

”You’re making this up as you go.”

”Little bit.”

She almost laughed. Actually almost.

---

Sam found them twenty minutes later.

He came across the dock at a pace that wasn’t running but wasn’t walking either, his tablet in his hand, and he stopped in front of Noah with the look of someone who had just seen something on the sensors and was still deciding how to present it.

”There’s a ship,” Sam said. ”Sitting above the facility. Just hovering. Hasn’t made any aggressive movement, hasn’t hailed us on open channel. Came in on a secure EDF frequency and requested a meeting.”

He turned the tablet around.

The image from the surface drone was clear. A ship, mid-size, the kind used for official delegations rather than military operations. And on its hull, unmistakable even through the water’s distortion.

The EDF insignia.

Noah looked at it for a moment.

”Let them in,” he said.

---

The conference room felt different with strangers in it.

Four of them, all in dress uniforms, the kind worn when the point was to remind you who you were talking to. None of them were familiar. No faces Noah recognized from his time in the EDF, no names that connected to any history. Just four brass-level representatives sitting across the table with the prepared stillness of people who had rehearsed this.

Noah sat at the head of the table. Lucas to his right. Sophie across from the delegates. Lila and Seraleth further down. Kelvin at the end with his tablet face down, which meant he was paying full attention.

”Mr. Eclipse,” the lead delegate started. A woman, mid-fifties, the kind of composed that came from years of rooms exactly like this one. ”We appreciate you agreeing to meet with us.”

”You came to my house,” Noah said. ”What do you want?”

A beat.

”We’re here to discuss a potential reintegration of Eclipse into the EDF’s operational framework,” she said. ”Given the current threat landscape, specifically the confirmed five horn sighting in Sector Seven, the council believes that a unified response structure would—”

”You want us back,” Lucas said.

”We want to open a dialogue about—”

”That’s a yes,” Lucas said.

The delegate looked at him briefly. ”We’re prepared to offer full operational autonomy within an EDF framework. No oversight on day to day decisions. Access to EDF assets across all four quadrants, not just the Eastern Cardinal. All prior disciplinary matters relating to Article 47 invocations permanently closed.” She looked at Noah. ”Eclipse would operate as its own division. Your people remain your people. You answer to no one except in matters of direct planetary defense.”

The room was quiet.

Noah looked at the table.

Sophie was looking at the delegates. Kelvin had picked up his tablet and put it back down. Seraleth was watching Noah’s face.

”Let me make sure I understand,” Noah said. ”You’re offering us a title and wider access to things we’re already operating without, in exchange for putting Eclipse under an EDF umbrella.”

”The resources alone would—”

”We have resources.”

”Not at this scale. Not with a five horn—”

”We know about the five horn,” Lucas said. ”We knew before you sent this delegation. Your intel isn’t the leverage you think it is.”

The lead delegate’s composure held but something behind it shifted slightly.

”Mr. Eclipse,” she said. ”I want to be direct with you.”

”Please,” Noah said.

”The EDF needs you. Not Eclipse as an organization. You specifically. Your capabilities, your assets, your...” she paused, ”dragons. Nothing on our roster comes close to what you represent right now. Against a five horn, without you, our projections are not favorable.”

”I appreciate the honesty,” Noah said. ”My answer is no.”

”Noah.” The delegate’s composure cracked just slightly, just enough. ”There is one more thing the council asked me to convey.”

The room stayed quiet.

She looked at him directly.

”Your parents,” she said. ”They’ve asked to see you. Personally.”

Nobody moved.

Noah looked at the delegate across the table. His face didn’t change. His hands on the table didn’t move. The room held whatever it was holding and nobody said anything and nobody looked away from Noah’s face.