Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner - Chapter 507

Chapter 507: Exploding Sun
The faction building settled into evening rhythm. Some recruits headed to the training hall for voluntary practice. Others gathered in the common area for meals and conversation. The constant activity that characterized the faction’s first weeks had given way to something more sustainable—people actually living here rather than just preparing for the next crisis.

Noah found himself in one of the hallways, heading toward his quarters, when voices stopped him.

“—really fought a four-horn?”

He turned. Three recruits stood near the equipment storage—Chen, Torres, and another newer member whose name Noah was still learning. They looked nervous but determined, like they’d been daring each other to approach him.

“Yeah,” Noah said simply.

“Like, actually fought one?” Torres pressed. “Not just saw it from a distance or helped evacuate while others handled it?”

“Fought it. Me and Lucas Grey. They are worse than category Five threat, four horns, regeneration so fast it could heal from lethal damage in seconds.” Noah kept his voice casual. “It killed three hundred thousand EDF soldiers before we cornered it.”

The recruits exchanged glances, processing that information.

“Do you think—” Chen started, then stopped. “I mean, do you think people like us could ever reach that level? Face threats like that and survive?”

Noah studied them. Chen was maybe nineteen, still getting comfortable with his abilities. Torres was older, mid-twenties, but new to faction work. The third recruit—Noah really needed to learn his name—looked barely eighteen.

“Of course,” Noah said.

“Really?” The unnamed recruit’s skepticism was obvious. “You’re SSS-rank. Lucas was Alpha-rank. We’re just… us.”

“I was ‘just me’ once too,” Noah replied. “A year ago I was a first-year academy student who’d never fought anything more dangerous than a final boss monster in an arcade game. Power doesn’t make you capable—experience does. Training does. Surviving situations that should kill you and learning from them does.”

“But the rank difference—” Torres started.

“Matters less than you think,” Noah interrupted. “Yeah, I’ve got raw power most people don’t. But power without skill just means you destroy things harder. Lucas taught me that. He was Alpha-rank, could level buildings, had lightning that made any threat hesitate. But he spent years learning when to use that power and when not to. That’s what made him dangerous.”

Chen nodded slowly. “So it’s not about being born with the right abilities?”

“It’s about what you do with whatever abilities you have,” Noah confirmed. “Kelvin doesn’t have combat powers. He’s a support specialist with prosthetic arms. But he’s saved my life more times than I can count because he’s smart, creative, and doesn’t quit when things get hard.”

He gestured back toward where they’d come from, where the meeting had just concluded.

“You three were in that meeting. You heard dozens of ideas about handling Fourth Brigade. Some good, some not. But everybody contributed. That’s strength too—knowing when to speak up, when to listen, when to support someone else’s plan instead of pushing your own.”

“I guess,” Torres said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Look,” Noah said, “I’m not going to lie and say everyone can become SSS-rank. Most people won’t. That’s just statistics. But can you become someone who handles Category Three threats reliably? Absolutely. Can you develop skills that make you valuable in situations where raw power isn’t enough? Definitely. Can you reach a level where you’re the person civilians want showing up when things go wrong? That’s entirely up to you.”

The three recruits were quiet, absorbing that.

“Thank you,” Chen said finally. “For being honest.”

“Always,” Noah replied.

As they walked away, Noah continued toward his quarters, but didn’t make it far before running into Seraleth. The seven-foot elf was carrying what looked like training equipment—wooden practice swords that seemed comically small in her hands.

“Noah,” she said, her formal tone carrying genuine warmth. “I was hoping to speak with you.”

“What about?”

“Combat integration,” Seraleth replied. “I have been teaching hand-to-hand techniques to the recruits, but I am uncertain how to properly incorporate chi enhancement into those lessons. My own mastery is recent. I worry I am teaching incomplete methods.”

“You’re doing fine,” Noah assured her. “The recruits are improving fast.”

“But they could improve faster with better instruction.” Seraleth’s expression was earnest. “You and Lila both have more experience with chi in combat applications. Perhaps tomorrow we could coordinate a joint training session? Combine my physical techniques with your energy manipulation expertise?”

“That makes sense,” Noah agreed. “I’ll talk to Lila, set something up.”

“Thank you.” Seraleth smiled, and there was something in the expression that Noah couldn’t quite read. Not just gratitude—something else underneath. “Your leadership is appreciated. The way you spoke to those recruits just now, giving them honest assessment rather than false hope. That is valuable.”

“You were listening?”

“My hearing is… sensitive,” Seraleth admitted. “I did not intend to eavesdrop. But yes, I overheard. And I thought your words showed wisdom.” She paused. “On Lilivil, leaders often tell soldiers what they wish to hear rather than truth. You do not do this. It is refreshing.”

She bowed slightly—a gesture of respect from her culture—and continued down the hallway, leaving Noah standing there wondering if he’d just missed subtext he should have caught.

Before he could analyze that interaction further, Sophie appeared from one of the side corridors.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fine. Just wanted to check in after today. That Fourth Brigade situation—” Sophie stopped, seeming to choose her words carefully. “I know it’s frustrating. Reeves making political threats when we’re trying to build something real.”

“We’ve got a plan now,” Noah said. “The broadcasting strategy is solid.”

“It is,” Sophie agreed. “And I think it’ll work. But it’s also going to put more pressure on us. Every operation becomes public performance. We can’t afford mistakes when settlements are watching live.”

“We won’t make mistakes.”

“Noah.” Sophie’s voice carried something tired. “We will. Eventually. Mistakes happen in combat. Equipment fails. Intel is wrong. People get hurt. And when it happens on a live broadcast—”

“Then settlements see that we handle problems when they arise,” Noah finished. “They see us adapt, overcome, solve things in real-time. That’s more valuable than pretending we’re perfect.”

Sophie was quiet for a moment. Then she smiled slightly. “You’re right. I’m overthinking.”

“You’re being thorough,” Noah corrected. “That’s different.”

They stood in the hallway, comfortable silence stretching between them. Then Sophie moved closer, her hand finding his.

“I’m glad we’re doing this together,” she said quietly. “Building Eclipse, facing all this insanity. I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.”

“Same,” Noah replied.

She kissed him—brief, genuine, the kind of moment that reminded him why they worked despite everything complicating their lives. When she pulled back, her smile was warmer.

“Get some rest,” Sophie said. “Tomorrow starts the real preparation for the north. We’ve got six days before Grey reinforcements arrive. Need you sharp.”

“I will.”

She headed off toward her own quarters, and Noah finally made it to his room. They were sleeping at the station today and possibly for the next few days. The space was sparse—bed, desk, storage locker. He’d been spending most of his time in common areas or training facilities, hadn’t bothered personalizing the quarters much.

He sat on the bed, exhaustion hitting him now that the day’s momentum had finally stopped. Fourth Brigade politics, Lucy’s reinforcements coming, the assault on Arthur’s facility looming, relationship complications he didn’t have energy to fully process.

One problem at a time. Handle what was in front of him, trust his team to handle their parts, keep moving forward.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But tonight, Eclipse Faction had a plan. That was enough.

—

While everyone headed off to do their own thing that evening, one guy in particular stayed busy in his work shop.

Kelvin.

What had started as a basic workspace had expanded dramatically as he’d claimed more room for projects. Equipment occupied every surface—half-assembled scanners, weapon modifications, technical components in various stages of completion.

Diana found him there past midnight, hunched over a workbench with his cybernetic arms deep in some kind of mechanical frame.

“You’re still awake,” she observed.

Kelvin jumped slightly, then relaxed when he recognized her voice. “Could say the same about you.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Diana moved closer, examining what he was working on. “What is this?”

“Running it back,” Kelvin replied, his attention returning to the frame. “Remember on Raiju Prime? When we fought Kruel? I had that nanotech suit. Button on my shirt, tap it, instant armor coverage.”

“I remember,” Diana said. “Saved your life when those Harbingers came at you.”

“And almost killed me when I detonated it along with a transmitter like an idiot.” Kelvin’s laugh was self-deprecating. “Thought I was being heroic, creating a massive explosion. Instead I lost both arms and would’ve died if Storm hadn’t extracted me.”

He gestured at his prosthetic limbs—the advanced cybernetics that had replaced what he’d lost.

“These work great,” Kelvin continued. “Better than organic arms in some ways. But that whole incident? It showed me the fundamental flaw in my original design.”

“Which was?”

“Power consumption.” Kelvin pulled up holographic displays showing technical schematics. “The nanotech suit was compact, responsive, covered my whole body instantly. But it burned through beast cores so fast it was basically disposable. One engagement, maybe two, then I’d need fresh cores. And when I overloaded it for that explosion? It consumed like fifty Category Three cores in three seconds.”

Diana studied the displays, not understanding half the technical specifications but getting the general concept. “So you’re building a better version?”

“Trying to.” Kelvin’s hands moved across the frame, adjusting components. “See, the original was defensive. React to threats, absorb impacts, keep me alive long enough for actual combatants to handle problems. But that’s not enough anymore.”

“Not enough how?”

Kelvin stopped working, turned to face her properly. “Diana, when we fought Kruel, it was Noah and Lucas who actually engaged it. I provided support—scans, equipment, tactical data. When we faced Arthur, same thing. Noah handled direct combat while I stayed back. And when we encountered the widow Harbinger, the first female Harbinger humanity’s ever seen, and you and Noah fought it while I was doing what? Probably monitoring vitals or something equally useless in the actual fight.”

“You’re not useless—”

“I’m not useless,” Kelvin agreed, cutting her off. “I know that. Intellectually, I know support is valuable. But I’m tired of being support. I’m tired of watching the people I care about face existential threats while I hide behind equipment.”

He gestured at the frame on his workbench with something like frustration.

“I left my father’s weapons empire to join the EDF. Ditched billions in inheritance to run through mud like every other soldier because I wanted to make a difference in my own way. Wanted to prove I could contribute something real, not just profit off other people’s fighting.”

“You do contribute—”

“By making you all laugh,” Kelvin interrupted again. “Which I’m damn good at, don’t get me wrong. But when the real shit happens? When Category Fives show up or ancient immortals try to kill us? I’m the guy who cracks jokes while everyone else does the actual fighting.”

Diana was quiet, recognizing that Kelvin needed to get this out.

“So I’m building something better,” Kelvin continued, his voice steadying. “Not just defensive armor. Not just reactive protection. This—” He patted the frame, “—this is going to be something that lets me actually contribute to fights that matter. Something that can stand alongside Noah when he faces threats nobody else can handle.”

“What is it?” Diana asked.

Kelvin’s grin returned, manic and excited. “The Kinetic Resonance Optimized Modular Exoskeleton. KROME for short.”

Diana snorted. “That’s the most Kelvin name possible.”

“Thank you, I tried.” His grin widened. “But seriously, this is different from the nanotech suit. Where that was compact but power-hungry, KROME is bulkier but vastly more efficient. It’s not nanobots—it’s a full exoskeleton frame that interfaces with my cybernetic arms and enhances strength, speed, durability. Built-in weapons systems, integrated shields, power management that can run off a single Category Four core for sustained operations.”

He pulled up more schematics, showing a human-shaped framework that looked like it belonged in military mech divisions.

“It won’t make me Noah-level,” Kelvin admitted. “But it’ll let me engage Category five threats directly instead of hiding. Let me stand in combat situations without being a liability. Maybe even help in fights against a four horn like kruel if the design holds up.”

“That’s ambitious,” Diana said.

“That’s necessary,” Kelvin corrected. “We’re going back north in a week. Assaulting Arthur’s facility. There’ll be elite Purge soldiers, probably Harbingers, who knows what else. And I’ll be damned if I spend that operation on the sidelines again.”

Diana moved to stand beside him, examining the frame more closely. “You’re serious about this.”

“Completely.”

“And you think it’ll work?”

“The math checks out,” Kelvin replied. “The materials are sound. The power management should be efficient enough for sustained combat. The weapons integration is ambitious but achievable. There’s just one problem.”

“Which is?”

Kelvin gestured at a specific component in the design—what looked like a power core housing but scaled larger than standard. “This needs to generate sustained energy output at Category Four levels minimum, preferably Category Five for peak operations. But I need a power source that can actually deliver that without burning out immediately.”

“Can’t you just use beast cores?” Diana asked.

“Cores work for burst power,” Kelvin explained. “Short engagements, high output for limited duration. But KROME needs sustained generation. Hours of operation, not minutes. Beast cores would burn through too fast, same problem as the nanotech suit.”

“So what do you need?”

“Something that generates power continuously,” Kelvin said. “Something stable enough to run for extended periods but powerful enough to fuel combat operations. Basically, I need—”

He stopped, staring at his displays like he’d just thought of something.

“I need something like an exploding sun,” Kelvin said slowly. “Continuous fusion reaction, generating massive energy output in a controlled manner. That’s the missing piece.”

Diana raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking.”

“About the sun part? Yeah, can’t actually build a sun.” Kelvin’s grin was slightly manic. “But the concept—sustained fusion reaction generating continuous power—that’s what KROME needs. And if I can figure out how to miniaturize that principle, create a synthetic reactor that mimics solar fusion on a smaller scale…”

He trailed off, hands already moving across his displays, running new calculations.

Diana watched him work for a moment, saw the absolute focus that took over when Kelvin had a problem to solve. Most people saw the jokes, the humor, the self-deprecating comments about being support. But Diana had fought beside him often enough to recognize what Kelvin actually was.

A genius. The kind that could turn theoretical concepts into functioning technology given enough time and motivation.

“You’re terrifying,” Diana said quietly.

Kelvin looked up, surprised. “What?”

“Everyone looks at me and sees the ice queen,” Diana continued. “They look at Noah and see the dragon summoner. When Lucas was with us, they saw the Alpha-rank lightning user who could level buildings. But they forget what you are.”

“A support specialist with fancy arms?” Kelvin’s tone was self-deprecating.

“A nuclear warhead,” Diana corrected. “You’re the only person who could build explosive technology that could kill a four-horned Harbinger if you had five minutes to prepare. Who creates equipment that changes how entire operations function. Hell, you rebuilt an entire AUTOBOT PLANET IN MINUTES. YOU can look at impossible problems and find solutions nobody else would even consider.”

She gestured at the KROME frame.

“And now you’re building something that might let you fight a four horn directly,” Diana continued. “So yeah, you’re terrifying. I’m just glad you’re on the good side.”

Kelvin was quiet for a moment. Then his grin returned, genuine this time rather than performative.

“Thanks,” he said. “For getting it.”

“Of course.” Diana moved toward the workshop door. “Don’t stay up all night. We’ve got training tomorrow.”

“Just a few more hours,” Kelvin promised, already turning back to his displays. “I’m close to something. I can feel it.”

Diana left him there, surrounded by technology and impossible problems he was determined to solve.

As she walked back to her quarters, she thought about Noah facing Kruel, about the widow Harbinger that had nearly killed them, about Arthur waiting in the north with power that outclassed anything they’d encountered.

And she thought about Kelvin in his workshop, building something that might just close the gap between support specialist and actual combatant.

The Eclipse Faction was getting stronger. Not just through training and recruitment, but through innovation and determination.

They’d need every advantage when the time came to face Arthur’s forces.

But for tonight, progress was enough.