Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner - Chapter 520

Chapter 520: Red wedding – Part 1
Kelvin limped back across the frozen battlefield, KROME’s damaged frame protesting every step with mechanical groans that made his teeth ache. His hands worked frantically across the holographic interface projected inside the cockpit, green light flickering from his eyes as technopathy flowed through every damaged system.

The left arm was responding now—barely. He’d jury-rigged a connection through secondary pathways that weren’t designed to handle that much load, but it would hold. Maybe. The fusion containment chamber was stabilizing, though the readings still made him nervous. Neck actuator was functional enough. Chest armor was… well, compromised was putting it nicely, but the structural integrity was holding at sixty-three percent.

“Come on, come on,” Kelvin muttered, forcing damaged servos to reconnect, rerouting power through circuits that sparked in protest. “Just need you functional for another—”

SHRIIIIEEEK—

The sound cut through the air like a knife. Kelvin’s head snapped up just in time to see Storm—Noah’s wyvern, that black-scaled lightning nightmare—plummet from the sky and crater into the permafrost three hundred feet ahead.

Ice exploded outward. Snow and debris created a temporary whiteout. When it cleared, Storm was buried under tons of frozen earth, only his tail visible, twitching.

Then Kelvin saw what had hit him.

A three-horn Harbinger, easily nine feet tall, was charging toward the crater where Storm lay buried. Its legs ate up ground with terrifying speed, each footfall cracking ice. This one was different from the one Kelvin had fought—leaner, built for speed rather than raw power. Its three horns curved back like blades, and its expression held cold intelligence.

“Oh, shit—Storm, hang on!” Kelvin started forward, KROME’s damaged systems protesting as he pushed them. His targeting systems came online, tracking the charging Harbinger, calculating firing solutions. “Just need another ten seconds to—”

A blue glow began emanating from the crater.

Kelvin felt it before he saw it properly—a prickling sensation across his skin, the way the air tasted before a lightning strike. The glow intensified, turning the snow around the crater into brilliant sapphire.

Then the ground started vibrating.

Not shaking. Vibrating. High-frequency oscillations that made Kelvin’s vision blur, that traveled up through KROME’s feet and into the cockpit. The blue light was getting brighter, more intense, and Kelvin could feel the electrical charge building.

Whoooozzzzz—

The sound was like a generator spinning up, except organic, alive, and absolutely furious.

BOOM!!!

Storm erupted from the crater like a missile launched from a silo. Ice and stone exploded outward in a perfect sphere. The wyvern’s shriek was pure rage and joy mixed together, a sound that made Kelvin’s ears ring even through KROME’s audio dampeners. Lightning danced across Storm’s black scales, crackling between the blue patterns that covered his body like circuitry.

The three-horn Harbinger barely had time to register what was happening before Storm was on it.

Except Storm wasn’t on it. Storm was past it. The wyvern moved so fast that all Kelvin saw was a circular streak of lightning, a perfect ring of electrical discharge hanging in the air where Storm had been a microsecond before. The Harbinger spun, trying to track the movement, but Storm was already gone—a black and blue blur that disappeared into the storm clouds overhead.

The three-horn stood there, looking up, probably wondering what the fuck had just happened.

“Okay,” Kelvin muttered, watching the lingering electrical discharge fade from the air. “I guess you’re doing just fine.”

He turned and started back toward the facility proper, already pulling up comms. “Sophie, you there?”

Static crackled for a moment, then Sophie’s voice came through clear and professional. “Kelvin. Status?”

“One three-horn down. KROME’s damaged but functional. Heading back to provide support.” He navigated around a crater that probably used to be a defensive position. “Give me a mission update.”

“Grey forces are inside the facility, lower levels. They’re encountering minimal resistance so far—most of the Purge operatives are focused on surface defense.” Sophie’s tone was clipped, efficient. “Recruits are holding their own against foot soldiers. Casualties are lighter than projected.”

“And the team?”

“Lila’s engaged with a three-horn on the eastern approach. She’s holding her own.” A brief pause. “Diana might need fire power. She’s been locked in combat with her three-horn for 20 minutes. Momentum control is keeping it at bay, but she can’t close the engagement.”

Kelvin was already activating KROME’s thrusters before Sophie finished speaking. “Roger that. Heading to Diana’s position now.”

The thrusters roared to life, lifting KROME off the ground. Kelvin pushed them harder than he probably should have given the damage, but Diana needed backup and that was all that mattered. The frozen landscape blurred beneath him as he accelerated, following the coordinates Sophie fed to his HUD.

He found Diana thirty seconds later.

She stood in the center of what used to be a defensive courtyard, now a battlefield of shattered concrete and twisted metal. Her ice-blue eyes were focused with absolute concentration on the three-horn Harbinger ten feet in front of her.

The Harbinger was pushing forward, step by agonizing step, against something invisible. Its muscles strained. Its claws dug furrows in the concrete. Every movement forward came with visible effort, like it was walking through molasses made of solid steel.

Diana’s hands were extended, and Kelvin could see the slight tremor in her fingers. She was pouring everything into maintaining the Dead zone—that momentum nullification field that turned physics into her personal plaything. But the strain was showing.

“Diana,” Kelvin said over comms, angling his approach. “I need you to release the Harbinger on my count of three.”

“What?” Diana’s voice came back tight with concentration. “Are you insane?”

“Sweetheart, trust me!” Kelvin adjusted his trajectory, coming in low and fast from behind the Harbinger. KROME’s targeting systems locked onto the back of the alien’s skull. “Three!”

“Kelvin—”

“Two!”

The Harbinger gained another inch, pushing harder against Diana’s field.

“One!”

Diana released the Dead zone.

The effect was immediate. The Harbinger, which had been straining against immovable resistance, suddenly found nothing pushing back. It lurched forward, off-balance, momentum carrying it toward Diana with lethal intent.

Kelvin hit Mach 1 exactly as the Harbinger entered its charge.

BOOM—

The sonic boom arrived first. Then KROME’s fist, carrying every ounce of momentum from the thruster-assisted flight, connected with the back of the three-horn’s skull.

The impact was beautiful. The Harbinger’s head snapped forward with whiplash force. Its entire body followed, lifted off the ground by the sheer kinetic transfer. It flew forward, face-first, and hit the concrete hard enough to create a trench as it plowed through the courtyard.

Kelvin’s thrusters cut out. KROME hit the ground in a crouch, skidding to a stop beside Diana in a spray of ice and debris.

“Is this suit awesome or what?!” Kelvin’s grin was audible in his voice, pure excitement overriding the pain from his earlier fight.

Diana looked at him, at KROME’s damaged suit, at the crater where the Harbinger had landed. A small smile touched her lips. “It’s not bad at all.”

The Harbinger pushed itself up from the trench, shaking its head. Blood dripped from its nose and mouth. But its eyes were clear and absolutely furious.

“Alright,” Kelvin said, bringing KROME’s arms up. “You do what you do best. I’ll give this asshole more than it can handle.”

Diana nodded once. Her hands came up, and the air around her shimmered as she prepared to lock down the battlefield.

Kelvin activated the thrusters and launched skyward.

The Harbinger, seeing Diana as the easier target, charged. Its speed was impressive—it closed half the distance in under a second. Diana waited, perfectly calm, until it committed fully to the attack.

Then she froze it mid-leap.

The Harbinger hung in the air, every ounce of its momentum suddenly nullified. Its expression shifted from rage to confusion as it realized it wasn’t moving. Diana’s hand rotated, and the Harbinger rotated with it—a puppet on invisible strings.

She reversed its momentum.

The three-horn flew backward, not falling but propelled, and slammed into a concrete barrier with enough force to crack it.

“Now!” Diana called out.

Kelvin was already diving. KROME came down like the fist of an angry god, both arms extended, pile drivers armed. He hit the Harbinger while it was still embedded in the concrete.

CHUNK-CHUNK-CHUNK—

Three pneumatic strikes in rapid succession. Each impact drove the Harbinger deeper into the barrier. Stone crumbled. The alien’s natural armor cracked. It tried to swing at Kelvin, but Diana was faster.

She locked its arms mid-swing. Held them in place.

Kelvin brought KROME’s knee up into the Harbinger’s ribs. Something cracked. The three-horn snarled, thrashed against Diana’s hold, and somehow—through sheer strength or desperation—broke free of the momentum lock.

Its tail whipped around, caught KROME’s damaged left arm. The limb, already barely functional, sparked and died. The Harbinger grabbed KROME’s head with both hands and pulled, yanking the mech off-balance.

“Oh no you don’t—” Kelvin activated the chest-mounted laser array. At point-blank range, the beams scorched the Harbinger’s torso, forcing it to release its grip.

But it wasn’t done. The three-horn grabbed KROME around the midsection, lifted the several ton mech like it weighed nothing, and slammed it into the ground.

CRASH—

Once.

CRASH—

Twice.

CRASH—

Three times. Each impact sent shockwaves through KROME’s frame. Warning lights cascaded across Kelvin’s HUD. His head bounced off the inside of his helmet despite the padding. Blood ran from his nose.

[STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY: 51%]

MULTIPLE SYSTEMS CRITICAL]

The Harbinger raised KROME overhead, preparing to finish the job by driving the mech through the concrete one final time.

Diana’s Dead zone hit it like a hammer.

The Harbinger froze mid-lift, KROME still held overhead. Diana walked forward, her expression cold, both hands extended. She didn’t just stop its momentum—she reversed it.

The three-horn dropped KROME and flew backward, tumbling across the courtyard in a way that defied inertia. It hit the ground hard, rolled, tried to stand.

Diana’s momentum reversal hit it again. And again. Each time it tried to rise, she sent it sprawling in a different direction, battering it against the environment like a pinball.

“Kelvin!” Diana called out, strain evident in her voice. “Finish it! I can’t hold this much longer!”

Kelvin pushed KROME upright. His left arm was completely dead now, hanging useless. But the right arm worked. The legs worked. And he was pissed.

“Hold it still,” Kelvin said, his voice carrying an edge that had nothing to do with humor.

Diana locked the Harbinger in place. It hung suspended, unable to move, arms spread wide in an involuntary crucifixion pose.

Kelvin walked forward. Not running. Not flying. Just walking, each step deliberate, KROME’s remaining systems diverting all power to the right arm.

The first punch caught the Harbinger in the ribs.

CRACK—

Something broke. The three-horn tried to break free, it even tried to say something but Diana’s field was affecting its lungs, preventing proper air flow.

Second punch. Same spot.

CRACK—

More ribs. The Harbinger’s natural armor was cracking now, spiderwebs of damage spreading across its torso.

Third punch.

CRUNCH—

Kelvin’s fist went through the armor this time, sinking two inches into alien flesh. He pulled back, hydraulics straining, and struck again.

And again.

And again.

He wasn’t being tactical anymore. Wasn’t being efficient. This was rage and frustration and the memory of getting his ass beat by his own three-horn, of watching his systems fail, of nearly dying because his suit wasn’t good enough.

This was memory of his mom.

Each punch landed hardes. The Harbinger’s chest was caving in, ribs pulverized, organs ruptured. Its regeneration tried to keep up, new tissue forming, but Kelvin was hitting faster than it could heal.

“Come on,” Kelvin growled, punctuating each word with another strike. “You. Wanted. A. Fight. Here’s. Your. Fucking. Fight.”

The Harbinger’s eyes began to glaze. Its struggles weakened. Blood—so much black blood—poured from its ruined torso.

One final punch. KROME’s fist went completely through the three-horn’s chest, emerging from its back in a spray of gore.

Diana released the momentum lock.

The Harbinger slid off Kelvin’s fist and collapsed. Twitched once. Went still.

Kelvin stood there, KROME’s right arm dripping with alien blood, chest heaving with exertion inside the mech. His hands shook on the controls. His vision swam. But they’d won.

“Two three-horns,” Kelvin said, his voice hoarse. “Two fucking three-horns in one day. Someone better be writing this down.”

Diana walked over, looking up at KROME’s battered frame. “You alright in there?”

“Define alright.” Kelvin ran diagnostics. The list of damaged systems was longer than the list of functional ones. “I’m alive. The suit’s alive. We’re calling that a win.”

Movement caught their attention. Lila was limping toward them across the battlefield, and Kelvin’s heart nearly stopped before he realized the blood covering her wasn’t red. It was black—Harbinger blood, coating her from head to toe like she’d bathed in it.

Her fight had left no visible wounds on her body, but her expression carried exhaustion that went bone-deep.

“Please tell me you didn’t fight your three-horn alone,” Diana said.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” Lila’s smile was tired but genuine. She looked at the corpse at their feet, at KROME’s damaged frame, at Diana’s slightly trembling hands. “We’re a mess.”

“We’re alive,” Kelvin corrected. “There’s a difference.”

They started moving toward the facility proper, following the coordinates Sophie was feeding them. Around them, Eclipse recruits were still engaged with Purge operatives—brief exchanges of gunfire, chi-enhanced combat, the controlled chaos of people who’d trained for this but were experiencing real war for the first time.

Kelvin watched Chen use his sensory abilities to call out enemy positions while Marcus and another recruit coordinated takedowns. They were holding their own. Actually holding their own against professional soldiers, and something about that made Kelvin’s chest tight with pride he didn’t have words for.

They reached the facility’s interior, navigating through corridors that showed signs of recent combat. Scorch marks, blood, bodies. Grey soldiers had been through here, clearing rooms with professionalism.

Sophie’s voice came through comms: “Grey forces have secured the lower levels. They’re converging on a central chamber. You should—” Static interrupted her. “—portal. They found a portal.”

“Say again?” Diana asked.

“There’s a portal. Red light, spatial distortion. Grey forces are holding position, waiting for—”

The transmission cut out completely.

Kelvin, Diana, and Lila exchanged glances. Then they started moving faster, following the coordinates to the lower levels, taking stairs three at a time despite their exhaustion.

They found the Grey soldiers first—two dozen of them, weapons raised, forming a defensive perimeter around a massive chamber. Commander Hight stood at the front, her expression grim.

“Eclipse team,” she said, nodding as they approached. “You’re going to want to see this.”

They pushed through the perimeter.

The chamber was enormous, cathedral-sized, with a ceiling that disappeared into darkness. And dominating the center was a portal—a tear in reality that bled red light, edges crackling with energy that made Kelvin’s teeth ache. Through the portal, he could see glimpses of another world. Red sky. Tall architecture. Things moving that didn’t look remotely human.

And standing in front of the portal, calm as anything, was Arthur.

He looked exactly as they last saw him—young, maybe mid-twenties, with features that would have been handsome if not for the complete absence of warmth in his eyes. He wore simple clothes, nothing tactical, like he’d just been out for a walk and happened to end up in a fortified Purge facility.

Next to him stood two people Kelvin had seen before but took a second to remember. Lila’s sharp intake of breath told reminded him exactly who they were.

The Rowes. Lila’s parents.

The woman had Lila’s eyes—same ice-blue, same sharp intelligence. The man had her build, same lean grace. They stood on either side of Arthur like honor guards, their expressions were neutral and detached.

Not prisoners. Collaborators.

Diana’s hand went to Kelvin’s arm, squeezing once. A warning and a reminder.

Noah had been explicit: Do not engage Arthur. If you see him, you run. That’s an order.

But Noah wasn’t here. He was in his domain with the Widow, and they were staring at the man responsible for more deaths than Kelvin could count, standing next to the parents who’d abandoned Lila and clearly chosen Arthur over their own daughter.

Kelvin looked at Diana. Saw her jaw tighten. Saw her calculating odds, assessing threats, coming to the same conclusion he was reaching: they should retreat. Call for backup. Wait for Noah.

Then he looked at Lila.

Her expression was perfectly calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came right before someone did something absolutely stupid and irreversible.

Her hands weren’t shaking. Her breathing was controlled. But her eyes—her eyes held something that made Kelvin’s stomach drop.

Diana saw it too. “Lila,” she said quietly. “We should—”

“No,” Lila interrupted, her voice carrying across the chamber. “We’re not running.”

Arthur’s lips curved into a small smile, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Well,” he said, his voice carrying a soothing calm. “This should be interesting.”