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

Angel landed on a floating slab and immediately launched off it.

She wasn’t trying to close distance this time. She was making Lila track movement in three dimensions simultaneously, using the debris field that Lila had created as her own infrastructure, stepping from piece to piece, platform to platform, never staying on any single surface long enough for Lila to use it against her.

Blood platforms appeared under her feet where the debris wasn’t where she needed it, crimson and solid for exactly the half second each one was useful and gone before Lila could grab them.

Lila tracked her.

Of course she tracked her. Lila tracked everything in the field automatically, the telekinesis processing position and velocity of every object simultaneously the way other people processed breathing. Angel moving through the debris was not the problem.

The problem was what Angel was doing while she moved.

Blood threads were trailing from her wrists as she ran, thin as wire, extending behind her, connecting to surfaces she had already passed over. A web. Not a visible one, not something you saw until it was already built, just threads of hardened blood connecting floating debris pieces to each other in a network that was growing with every platform Angel touched.

Lila felt it when the first thread pulled taut.

She looked at the debris field differently.

’She’s wiring the room,’ she thought.

Angel hit a steel beam with both palms and the blood threads she had laid across the field conducted the impact outward simultaneously, every connected piece vibrating at once, the whole debris network shaking like a struck instrument. The vibration hit Lila’s telekinetic field from thirty different points at the same time.

For exactly one second the field destabilized.

Angel came through the center of it like she had been waiting for that second, because she had been waiting for that second, blood drills on both fists rotating, and she hit a chunk of concrete that was directly in her path and went through it instead of around it, the drills chewing through and the momentum carrying her out the other side already swinging.

Lila sidestepped.

The swing missed by four inches and Lila grabbed Angel’s arm at the wrist and used the momentum, redirecting it with telekinesis layered on top of the physical redirect, and Angel went sideways fast, too fast to fully control, hit a wall section, bounced off it, used it.

She came back at a completely different angle than she had left.

Lila was already somewhere else.

”Did she just,” Diana started.

”Wire the debris field with blood and use the vibration to destabilize the telekinetic hold on it,” Kelvin said. ”Yes. That’s exactly what she did.” He had all four hands running now, auxiliary arms tracking debris trajectories while his main hands worked his tablet. ”The blood conducts force when hardened. She used it as a transmission medium to distribute the impact across the whole field simultaneously. Thirty points of interference at once is harder to compensate for than one concentrated attack.”

”And Lila redirected instead of blocking,” Diana said.

”Lila never blocks,” Kelvin said. ”Blocking is for people who haven’t already decided what the next three moves are.”

Behind them, from further down the corridor, an Ares technician appeared. Then two more behind him. They were looking at their tablets with the expression of people whose tablets were telling them something their tablets had no category for.

The lead technician stopped beside Kelvin. Looked into the training room. Looked at his tablet. Looked back into the training room.

”The structural stress readings on this section,” he said, ”are registering above the threshold we use to flag hull breaches.”

”Interesting,” Kelvin said.

”This is a training room,” the technician said.

”It is,” Kelvin confirmed.

”Those two women,” the technician said, looking at Angel and Lila moving through the debris field, ”are doing this to a training room.”

”They are,” Kelvin said. ”Yes.”

The technician looked at his tablet again. Then at the room. Then at Kelvin. ”How long have these people been on the fleet.”

”A few weeks to a couple of days, I don’t keep track,” Kelvin said.

The technician said something to the other two in rapid Ares.

”I have a question for you,” Kelvin said. ”How redundant is a single section to the fleet? Structurally. If one area were to experience significant internal damage, how does that affect the Eternal Pyre as a whole?”

The technician stared at him. ”The fleet’s architecture is designed with independent stress zones. If the primary structural connectors hold and the damage stays within one section, the fleet formation is unaffected.”

”So if the adjacent sections were cleared of personnel,” Kelvin said, ”and the stress was contained to this area.”

”The fleet continues normally,” the technician said slowly.

”Perfect,” Kelvin said. He pulled out his comm. ”My Glorious King, Aurelius.”

___

Three corridors away, a group of Ares citizens had gathered near a viewport. Not to look at the stars. To look at the wall.

An older woman had her palm flat against it, feeling the vibrations traveling through the structure. Beside her a man was holding a cup of something hot that had been shaking in his hand for the last several minutes.

”The Eclipse people,” someone said.

”Training again,” the older woman said.

A child pressed their face against the viewport. ”Is it the red haired one or the pale one?”

”Both,” someone said.

The older woman kept her hand on the wall. Another vibration came through, stronger than the last one.

”You know,” she said, ”when King Aurelius said we were taking guests for a mission, I thought about the harbinger they were going to fight.” She looked at the wall. ”I thought, well, at least the danger is out there.”

”I don’t think that anymore,” the man with the cup said.

”No,” the older woman said. ”Neither do I.”

The child pulled back from the viewport. ”If a harbinger gets us at least it will be quick.”

Everyone looked at the child.

”What,” the child said.

Aurelius’s response took four minutes. During those four minutes the fight continued and the walls got worse.

Angel had moved to the ceiling.

Not by flying. By running up a blood ramp she had built against the far wall, a curving structure that went from floor to vertical surface to ceiling in one continuous slope, the blood hardened to a density that held her weight while she moved across it. She hit the ceiling at speed and her momentum carried her across it, boots finding purchase on a surface that wasn’t designed for boots, and she ran across the ceiling of a room that was actively coming apart around her like it was the most natural thing she had ever done.

From the ceiling she had angles on Lila that the floor didn’t give her.

She launched blood spikes downward. Not at Lila directly. At the floating debris between them, hitting specific pieces and driving them toward Lila at angles that the telekinetic field had to compensate for from below.

Lila redirected them.

All of them. Without looking at them individually, the field handling each one automatically while Lila tracked Angel on the ceiling and thought about what came next.

What came next was a blood disc the size of a dining table that Angel had been assembling from the ceiling material without Lila noticing because the ceiling material was dark and the blood against it was dark and Angel had been doing it with one hand while the other hand threw the distracting spikes.

It came off the ceiling at a velocity that produced a sound like something being torn.

Lila grabbed it.

Stopped it three feet from her face.

They held it there. Lila’s telekinesis against Angel’s blood manipulation, the disc vibrating between them, stress fractures appearing in its surface from the opposing forces.

It shattered.

The fragments went everywhere and both of them took some of them and neither of them stopped moving.

---

Aurelius’s authorization came through. Not to detach the section. To clear it.

Within minutes Ares personnel were moving people out of the adjacent corridors and quarters, quiet and efficient, the kind of evacuation that happened when the king said move and everyone moved without needing to know why. The section around the training room emptied.

The fight continued.

---

Angel dropped from the ceiling.

Not fell. Dropped, intentional, both feet aimed at a specific piece of floating debris that she hit with enough force to drive it downward at Lila like a launched projectile while she used the rebound to push herself sideways.

Lila stopped the debris piece.

Angel was already somewhere else, blood ribbons trailing from her wrists, and she grabbed a steel beam from the debris field and swung it like she had been born holding steel beams, the telekinetic field grabbing the other end at the same moment.

They both had the beam.

For two seconds they pulled against each other, the beam bending in the middle from the opposing forces, the metal groaning.

Angel let go first.

The beam launched at Lila with the full force of the telekinetic pull behind it and Angel was already moving in the opposite direction, blood hardening around her forearms into blunt armor, closing the distance from a completely different angle while Lila dealt with the beam.

She got through.

Hit Lila in the shoulder with the armored forearm and the impact cracked the wall behind Lila even though Lila wasn’t against the wall. The force transferred through the telekinetic field and found the wall anyway.

Lila went sideways. Used it. Came back.

Her hand came up and Angel’s next step went wrong. The floor under that foot reversed, a localized gravity flip, not the whole room just that point, and Angel’s step went up instead of down and the momentum she had built going forward suddenly had nowhere useful to go.

Lila’s other hand came up and pushed.

Angel hit the far wall. Made a Lila-shaped impression in it. Dropped to the floor.

Stood up immediately.

Touched the blood from her split lip.

Looked at it.

Looked at Lila.

”Okay,” Angel said. ”Okay.”

Kelvin watched Angel’s expression change from the doorway.

”Diana,” he said.

”I see it,” Diana said.

”She just decided something.”

”Yes.”

”I don’t know if I want to know what she decided.”

”Probably not,” Diana said.

---

Angel spread her arms.

Every cut she had taken during the fight opened slightly, the blood responding to her, and what came out wasn’t ribbons or spikes or anything shaped. It was volume. A red fog erupting outward from her body in all directions, filling the space around her, spreading across the floor and up the walls and into every crack the fight had put in the room.

Not forming weapons.

Sinking into the structure.

The blood spread through every fracture in the concrete and steel like water finding channels, traveling up through the support columns, into the ceiling beams, through the floor foundation, threading itself into the bones of the room until the room itself was full of her.

Lila felt it.

She stopped thinking in objects.

She started thinking in mass.

She reached outward and grabbed the room. Not what was in it. The room. The walls, the ceiling supports, the reinforced foundation beneath the floor. Everything, taken together as one connected structure, and she squeezed.

The room groaned.

Not a creak. A groan that traveled through the structure from every surface simultaneously, the sound of something large being asked to do something it wasn’t built for. The walls moved inward by centimeters. The ceiling dipped. The floor pressed upward.

Compression. The whole room shrinking around Angel.

Angel looked at Lila across the contracting space.

”Oh,” she said. ”We’re ending it? Bet.”

She clapped her hands.

The blood inside the walls expanded.

Not outward. Internal. Every fracture the blood had filled pushing against the structure from the inside, the walls fighting the compression with expansion from within, the ceiling pushing back up, the floor pushing back down. The building caught between two forces.

Lila compressed harder.

Angel expanded harder.

The walls stopped moving inward.

Then stopped moving at all.

Then started making a sound that walls should not make, a deep structural groan that had nothing to do with cracking or breaking, the sound of something being held in two directions at once and refusing to choose.

Kelvin and Diana looked at each other.

”They’re fighting through the building,” Diana said.

”Compression versus expansion,” Kelvin said, his voice very quiet. ”She filled the structure with blood and now they’re using the room itself as the battleground.” He looked at the walls. At the ceiling. At the floor. ”Whatever gives first, the room loses.”

”And the fleet,” Diana said.

Kelvin looked at the walls connected to the adjacent sections connected to the structural spine of the Eternal Pyre running through every vessel in the formation.

”And the fleet,” he said.

---

The pulse released.

Not an explosion. Not a detonation. A release, the two forces canceling each other in the same instant and all of that accumulated structural energy going somewhere, traveling outward through the floor into the deck below, through the walls into the cleared adjacent sections, through the structural connectors running the length of the ship and into the fleet formation beyond.

Every vessel in the Eternal Pyre felt it.

A deep resonant shudder, subtle enough that you could miss it if you weren’t paying attention, present enough that you couldn’t if you were. It traveled through connected hulls, through floors and walls and ceilings, through the bones of a civilization that had been moving through space for fifty years.

Three corridors away the older Ares woman felt it pass through the wall under her palm and kept her hand there until it stopped.

The child looked at the ceiling.

The man’s cup stopped shaking.

In his quarters, Aurelius felt it under his feet. He was sitting at his desk reading something and he stopped reading and looked at the floor and felt the shudder pass through and said nothing. Just sat with it for a moment. Then went back to reading.

---

The room was still standing.

But nothing in it was straight anymore.

The floor had warped into long rolling waves, the reinforced concrete set into curves that had no right existing in a flat surface, frozen mid-movement like something had stopped time while the floor was still deciding what shape it wanted to be. The walls bowed, some inward and some outward, their surfaces smooth and deformed. The ceiling dipped in the center like a bowl, the support beams twisted into slow spirals.

The room hadn’t broken.

It had bent.

At the center of the warped floor, two figures on their backs.

Angel laughed first. Breathless, staring at the dipped ceiling, at the twisted beams, at the emergency lighting throwing strange shadows across surfaces that used to be flat.

Lila groaned. Then laughed. The real version, not the controlled one.

Neither of them moved toward standing.

From the doorway, Kelvin and Diana looked at the warped floor. At the wave crests of frozen concrete. At the spiral beams. At the bowl ceiling.

”The room didn’t break,” Kelvin said.

”No,” Diana said.

”It warped,” Kelvin said.

”Yes.”

He looked at Angel and Lila lying in the middle of it.

”Permanently,” he said.

”Probably,” Diana said.

Kelvin stood there for a long moment looking at the preserved disaster of what used to be a training room.

”For the record,” he said, to the warped ceiling, to the twisted beams, to nobody and everybody, ”I was here for safety monitoring purposes. I want that noted. I was the responsible one.”

From the warped floor, both women laughed harder.