Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner - Chapter 504

Chapter 504: Fourth brigade
After training concluded, Kelvin retreated to his workshop on the second floor—a space that had grown significantly more organized since he’d claimed it. Tools hung in designated spots, projects occupied labeled workbenches, and the holographic displays showed schematics for three different pieces of equipment in various stages of completion.

He was elbow-deep in a prototype energy regulator when the door chimed.

“It’s open!”

Cora entered with the casual familiarity of someone who’d been here multiple times before. She wore her academy uniform still—the blazer unbuttoned, skirt slightly rumpled from sitting through morning classes, hair in that same short bob cut that made her look perpetually ready for trouble.

“Skipping afternoon classes?” Kelvin asked without looking up from his work.

“Independent study period,” Cora replied, moving to examine one of his workbenches. “Which technically means I can be anywhere doing anything as long as I submit a paper at the end of the week. I’m calling this ‘field research on faction technology integration.'”

“You’re going to write a paper about my workshop?”

“I’m going to write a paper about something. Probably not your workshop.” She picked up a partially assembled device, turning it over in her hands. “What’s this?”

“Portable energy shield generator. Still experimental. The power requirements are insane and the field stability is questionable, but theoretically it could block Category Three attacks for about thirty seconds before the battery explodes.”

“Before it explodes?”

“That’s the experimental part.”

Cora set it down carefully. “You’re going to blow yourself up one of these days.”

“Probably,” Kelvin agreed cheerfully. “But imagine the data I’ll collect right before it happens.”

She laughed, moving to the next bench where a partially disassembled scanner sat surrounded by components. “And this?”

“Upgraded threat detection system. Trying to increase the range and accuracy without making it so power-hungry that you need a backpack battery to run it. Current version can detect Category Four signatures at about two kilometers, but the false positive rate is terrible.”

Cora leaned against the bench, watching him work for a moment. He’d always been like this—completely absorbed in whatever project had his attention, capable of talking about technical specifications for hours while his hands moved with almost intuitive precision.

“I missed this,” she said quietly.

Kelvin paused, glancing up at her. “Missed what?”

“This. You. The workshop. Just… hanging out while you build things and explain why they’re going to either revolutionize combat or explode spectacularly.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive outcomes,” Kelvin pointed out.

“I know.” Cora’s smile was genuine but carried something underneath—nostalgia maybe, or regret. “It’s weird, you know? You guys were gone for what, six months? But it feels like way longer. Like you came back different.”

“We are different,” Kelvin said, returning his attention to the energy regulator. “We fought Harbingers. Saw things that shouldn’t exist. Lost people we cared about.” He was quiet for a moment. “Lucas is still missing. We don’t even know if he’s alive.”

“I know, right?” Cora said. “Lucas Grey, trapped by an ancient enemy. Sounds like something from a story.”

“Yeah, well, stories don’t usually have six-month gaps where nobody knows if the hero’s coming back.”

They fell into comfortable silence, Cora watching while Kelvin continued his work. She’d always been good at this—knowing when to talk and when to just exist in the same space without needing to fill every moment with words.

“Diana seems cool,” Cora said eventually, her tone carefully casual.

Kelvin’s hands didn’t pause, but something in his posture shifted slightly. “She is. Extremely cool. Terrifyingly competent. Has an ability that can stop anything with momentum, which is simultaneously awesome and horrifying.”

“You talk about her a lot.”

“Do I?”

“When we message, yeah. Diana said this, Diana did that, Diana thinks this thing is stupid.” Cora picked at a loose thread on her blazer. “Just noticed, that’s all.”

Kelvin set down his tools, finally giving her his full attention. “Cora—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted quickly. “I’m not—I’m just making an observation. You’re allowed to have friends. Especially friends who are extremely cool and terrifyingly competent.”

“She asked me out,” Kelvin said. The words came out before he’d fully decided to say them.

Cora went very still. “Oh.”

“On Raiju Prime. After this whole thing where we almost died fighting. She just… asked. Very directly. Very Diana.”

“And you said…?”

“I said I needed to think about it.” Kelvin ran a hand through his hair. “Which is probably the most Kelvin response possible. She asks a straightforward question, I give her maximum ambiguity.”

Cora was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was carefully neutral. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah. I think so. Maybe?” Kelvin made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know. How do you know if you like someone versus just thinking they’re really cool and wanting to hang out with them constantly?”

“That’s… that might be the same thing, Kelvin.”

“See, this is why I stick to building things. Things make sense. You input energy, you get predictable outputs. People are chaos engines that occasionally say words.”

Despite everything, Cora smiled. “You’re such a disaster.”

“I prefer ‘work in progress.'”

“You’re a work in progress disaster.”

“Fair.”

Cora looked at him for a beat longer than necessary—just a moment where her expression softened, where something old and familiar flickered across her features before she smoothed it away. “For what it’s worth, I think Diana’s lucky. If she’s into you, I mean. You’re a catch. Even if you are completely hopeless at emotions.”

“Thanks,” Kelvin said. “I think.”

“You’re welcome.” Cora pushed off from the workbench. “I should get going. Actually need to write something vaguely academic if I want credit for this period.”

“Write about the energy shield thing,” Kelvin suggested. “Theoretical applications of portable defensive technology in faction operations. That’s academic-sounding.”

“That’s giving me homework.”

“That’s giving you material. There’s a difference.”

Cora headed for the door, paused with her hand on the frame. “Kelvin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re back. Even if things are different now.” She smiled. “Still beats trying to figure out chi cultivation that I took up in my second year with Master Anng explaining meridian systems for the fortieth time.”

“Anng’s still teaching that class?”

“Anng will be teaching that class until the heat death of the universe. Pretty sure he’s immortal and sustained entirely by disappointed sighs at first-years who can’t find their cores.”

Kelvin laughed, and Cora left, and the workshop returned to its usual quiet hum of half-finished projects and technical possibilities.

But Kelvin sat there for a while after she’d gone, staring at the energy regulator without really seeing it, thinking about casual observations and questions that weren’t really questions and how much easier it would be if people came with technical specifications and predictable outputs.

—

Everything around the faction was on easy mode through out the day until a contract came through Sam’s system around noon—priority flagged, decent payout, location in the eastern territories where Eclipse Faction’s reputation was starting to carry weight.

“Migration route disruption,” Sam explained, pulling up holographic displays for the assembled team. “There’s a seasonal beast migration that passes through this region every year. Category Two herbivores mostly, some Category Three predators following the herds. Usually, it’s managed peacefully—settlements just stay out of the way for a few days, let the beasts pass through established corridors.”

“But?” Noah prompted.

“But this year, something’s blocking the main route. The beasts are getting agitated, changing direction unexpectedly, threatening to stampede through inhabited areas.” Sam gestured at the map. “Settlement coordinator is requesting immediate assistance. They need someone to identify what’s causing the disruption and clear it before several thousand agitated beasts decide to go through the settlement instead of around it.”

“Several thousand?” Diana raised an eyebrow.

“Migration herds are big,” Sam confirmed. “Most of them individually harmless, but that many animals moving together creates its own hazards. Plus the predators following them aren’t going to be friendly if we get between them and their food source.”

“Sounds straightforward enough,” Sophie said. “We identify the blockage, clear it, establish traffic control while the migration passes through. Standard conservation contract.”

“I want to go,” Seraleth spoke up. “This is the kind of work the Lilivil military would handle—maintaining ecological balance, protecting its people from natural phenomena. I have experience with migration management.”

“I’ll go too,” Lila added immediately. “Extra hands can’t hurt, and I’ve done settlement protection work before.”

Noah noticed the way both of them volunteered within seconds of each other, noticed Sophie’s slight frown as she processed the implications of leaving them alone with Noah on a field contract.

“Diana, you’re with us,” Noah said, making the decision quickly. “Kelvin, you stay here and continue working on equipment upgrades. Sophie, you’re coordinating from base with Sam.”

“Actually,” Sophie said, her tone suggesting this wasn’t up for debate, “I’ll join the field team. Sam’s perfectly capable of coordinating from here, and we might need someone with tactical oversight if the situation develops complications.”

“Four people for a migration disruption seems excessive,” Lila observed.

“Four people means we can split into pairs if we need to cover more ground,” Sophie countered smoothly. “Efficiency.”

Diana caught Kelvin’s eye from across the room. He made a gesture that clearly meant *this is going to be interesting* and Diana’s expression agreed completely.

—

They took one of the faction’s ground transports—a reinforced vehicle designed for rough terrain and beast encounters. The drive to the migration corridor took roughly three hours, time that passed in a silence broken only by occasional tactical discussion and Sam’s updates through comms.

Noah sat in the driver’s seat, focused on navigation. Sophie occupied the passenger seat, reviewing intel on her tablet. Seraleth and Lila sat in the back, separated by maybe two feet and an ocean of unspoken competition.

Diana, who’d ended up in the middle back seat between them, looked like she was having the time of her life.

“So,” Diana said eventually, “anyone want to discuss our approach once we arrive? Division of labor, reconnaissance priorities, communication protocols?”

“We should establish a command structure first,” Sophie said without looking up from her tablet. “Clear chain of decision-making prevents confusion in field situations.”

“Noah’s leading,” Lila said immediately. “He’s faction leader, this is his call.”

“Faction leadership doesn’t automatically translate to field command,” Sophie replied. “Different skill sets. I have more experience with coordination and strategic overview.”

“And I have more experience with aggressive threats requiring immediate response,” Lila countered.

“On Lilivil, command structure was determined by expertise rather than rank,” Seraleth contributed. “The person most qualified for the specific situation would lead, regardless of their position otherwise.”

“Great,” Diana said. “So we’ve established that everyone thinks they should be in charge for different reasons. This will definitely help us work together smoothly.”

Noah gripped the steering wheel slightly tighter. “We’re all working together. If decisions need to be made, I’ll make them after consulting everyone’s input. No hierarchy, just teamwork. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Lila said.

“Acceptable,” Sophie agreed.

“Logical,” Seraleth confirmed.

Diana mouthed *compass of oblivion* at the back of Noah’s head and had to suppress a laugh when his shoulders tensed with recognition.

As they travelled in the air, the migration corridor came into view gradually—a natural valley system where generations of beasts had worn paths into the earth. The main route was maybe two hundred meters wide, vegetation trampled flat by countless hooves and claws over decades.

But the herd had stopped moving.

Several thousand beasts filled the valley—herbivores ranging from deer-sized creatures to things that stood as tall as elephants, all milling around in visible agitation. Predators circled the herd’s edges, waiting for opportunities but clearly unsettled by the abnormal behavior.

“There,” Sophie said, pointing ahead. “That’s what’s blocking them.”

About a kilometer up the valley, something massive and crystalline protruded from the ground. It looked like a natural formation, but the angles were too perfect, the surfaces too symmetrical. Energy pulsed through the structure in rhythmic waves, creating interference patterns that made the air shimmer.

“That’s not natural,” Noah observed.

“And it’s definitely disrupting the migration,” Diana added. “Look at how the beasts react when they get close. They’re actively avoiding it, which is why the herd’s backed up.”

They parked the transport at a safe distance and approached on foot, carefully skirting the herd’s perimeter. The beasts were agitated but not aggressive—mostly they just seemed confused, driven by instinct to follow the migration route but blocked by something their senses screamed was wrong.

The crystalline structure was even larger up close—maybe forty feet tall, emerging from the ground at an angle that suggested more of it existed underground. The energy pulses were audible here, a low thrumming that Noah felt in his chest as much as heard.

“Scanning,” Sophie said, pulling out equipment. “Energy signatures are… weird. Not beast-based, not standard awakened human output. This is something else.”

Noah moved closer, his senses also felt the structure was fundamentally wrong. It didn’t belong here. The energy it produced felt artificial, deliberate, placed rather than naturally occurring.

“Someone put this here,” he said. “Recently. This isn’t ancient—you can see where the ground’s still disturbed from installation.”

“Why would someone block a migration route?” Seraleth wondered.

“Lots of reasons,” Lila replied. “Force the beasts into settlement areas, create chaos, make factions look incompetent when they can’t handle it. Standard disruption tactics.”

Before anyone could respond to that observation, movement caught Noah’s attention. People, approaching from the valley’s far side. A lot of people.

They moved with military might, wearing matching tactical gear marked with an insignia Noah didn’t recognize—a shield with four vertical bars across it. Twenty of them at least, possibly more.

And at their head walked a man in his mid-forties, his presence carrying authority. His gear was slightly different from his subordinates—higher quality, more personalized, marked with additional insignia that suggested rank.

He stopped maybe thirty feet from Noah’s group, his expression professionally neutral.

“Eclipse Faction,” he said. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“And you are?” Noah asked.

The man smiled slightly. “Commander Darius Reeves. Fourth Brigade. We need to talk.”