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

The Nexus Arena's administrative level presented a complete turnaround to the battle-scarred proving grounds below. Where students fought and bled under harsh lights, the highest-ranking military officials in the Eastern Sector now sat in climate-controlled comfort around a gleaming obsidian table. The boardroom's panoramic windows offered a god's-eye view of the dimmed arena below—empty now, but tomorrow it would once again fill with the roars of spectators and the clash of combat.

Commander Owen of the 12th Academy sat with his back straight, face impassive despite the tension headache building behind his eyes. Beside him, Vice Commander Albright scrolled through performance metrics on his tablet with barely concealed impatience. Eleven other academy leadership pairs completed the circle, their hushed conversations creating a low murmur that died when the central holographic projector activated.

The emblem of the Supreme Command rotated in the air for a moment before resolving into the stern face of Supreme General , transmitting from the Ark. Even through the blue-tinted hologram, his piercing gaze commanded immediate attention. The massive space vessel he commanded orbited Earth, a constant reminder of humanity's precarious position in the war.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Supreme General's voice came through with crystal clarity. "I won't waste time with pleasantries. You know why we're here."

Owen did know. They all did. The assignment had been clear: force an alpha-class awakening among the tournament participants. S, SS, or SSS-ranked soldiers—the kind that could turn the tide against the Harbingers.

"I've reviewed the current tournament data," the supreme general continued, as additional holograms materialized showing student rankings, power levels, and combat records. "Not a single participant has shown indicators of potential alpha-class awakening. This is unacceptable."

Commander Isabella "Bella" of the 3rd Academy leaned forward, her sharp features highlighted by the hologram's blue glow. "With respect, General, perhaps we're pushing too hard too fast. Last year was an anomaly. Two S-ranks from one tournament isn't the norm—it's unprecedented."

"Anomalies are exactly what we need in this war," countered Commander Jackson Hayes of the 7th, a barrel-chested man with a voice that matched his imposing physique. "The Harbingers don't care about normal. They care about overwhelming force."

Commander Zhao of the 1st Academy—always impeccably presented with not a silver hair out of place—tapped a manicured finger against the table. "Lucas Grey was no anomaly. He was cultivated, carefully guided to his breaking point. That's how you create an S-rank."

"Breaking point," echoed Commander Wei Chen of the 11th, the youngest of the academy heads. "That's really what we're discussing here, isn't it? How far we're willing to break these kids before they either transform or shatter."

Owen felt a pang of appreciation for Wei's candor. At thirty-five, Wei was still close enough to his own academy days to remember being on the other side of these cold calculations.

Vice Commander Albright snorted. "If they shatter, they weren't worthy of being defenders in the first place."

Owen shot him a warning glance. "Every student in this tournament has already proven their worth, Albright."

"Proven, yes," Commander Eliza Morgan of the 4th interjected, her analytical mind always seeking patterns. "But not transcended. The data is clear—our randomizer algorithm isn't producing the pressure needed. Winners face increasingly difficult opponents, yet we've seen no breakthrough transformations."

"Perhaps the algorithm needs adjustment," suggested Vice Commander Li of the 6th, a soft-spoken man whose brilliant tactical mind was often overlooked because of his reserved nature. "The current parameters might be too... predictable."

"Or perhaps," drawled Commander Reginald Clarke of the 5th, leaning back in his chair with the casual arrogance that had always grated on Owen's nerves, "some academies simply lack the caliber of students needed for alpha-class potential." His gaze lingered meaningfully on Owen.

Silence descended on the room. Everyone knew where this was heading.

"You mean the Cannadah incident," Owen said flatly, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Seventeen dead from your top twenty-five," Clarke replied with false sympathy. "Quite a setback for the 12th."

"A setback we've overcome," Albright cut in before Owen could respond. "My son Adrian not only survived Cannadah but is currently undefeated in this tournament."

Owen kept his expression neutral, though internally he was counting to ten. Albright's obsession with his son's achievements had grown increasingly tiresome over time since the tournament selection even started.

"Surviving is not the same as thriving," Commander Zhao observed coolly. "The 1st Academy lost no students on expeditions because our training prepared them properly."

"Prepared them to hide, perhaps," Albright retorted. "While the 12th engaged the threat directly."

Commander Nadia Petrov of the 2nd, who had been quietly observing until now, cleared her throat. Her accent still carried traces of her Eastern European origins. "This posturing does nothing to address our primary concern. We need at least one alpha-class awakening from this tournament, or Supreme Command will question our methods—possibly our leadership."

The weight of her words settled heavily on the room. They all knew what happened to academy commanders who failed to produce results.

"Nadia's right," Commander Thomas Reynolds of the 8th said, his weathered face grave. "My Jayden Smoak didn't become S-ranked because we were lucky. He transformed because we engineered the perfect pressure conditions. His rivalry with Lucas was the catalyst."

"Spite," Commander Zhao nodded with something almost like pride. "Pure, burning spite between those two boys produced two S-ranks in one tournament. Although, his happened after the tournament,"

The hologram of the supreme General shifted slightly as he adjusted his position aboard the Ark, the massive vessel's subtle movements detectable even through the transmission. "This is precisely why I've gathered you today. Results, not excuses."

"So what are you suggesting?" asked Commander Leila Hassan of the 9th, who had remained thoughtfully silent until now. "That we deliberately foster animosity between high-potential candidates?"

"It worked before," said Commander Reynolds with a shrug.

"It's more than animosity," Commander Bella of the 3rd clarified. "It's about creating the right kind of desperate situation—where students have no choice but to transcend their current limitations or face complete defeat."

"Which brings us back to adjusting the algorithm," Vice Commander Li said.

The General's hologram leaned forward, giving the eerie impression he was reaching across space directly into their boardroom. "I've already authorized the recalibration of the matchmaking system. Starting tomorrow, the difficulty curve increases exponentially, not linearly."

Owen frowned. "General, that could lead to serious injuries."

"Better injured than dead at the hands of the Harbingers," Commander Hayes boomed. "We can heal broken bones. We can't resurrect soldiers who weren't strong enough in the first place."

Vice Commander Maya Ortiz of the 10th, who had medical training before joining the military, shook her head. "There's a fine line between pushing students to their limits and breaking them permanently. Some injuries can end promising careers before they begin."

"A risk we must take," the supreme General stated flatly, his voice carrying the cold calculation of someone who had to think in terms of species survival, not individual welfare. "The Harbingers don't care about long careers. They care about extinction—ours."

Static briefly interrupted the transmission as the Ark passed through a disturbance field, a reminder of the immense distance between the orbiting command vessel and Earth.

Owen looked around the table, wondering how many of them still remembered that these were teenagers they were discussing. Young men and women who had already sacrificed normal lives to train as humanity's defenders.

"What about the Purge?" Commander Wei asked quietly, naming the shadowy opposition group that had been gaining momentum. "If word gets out that we're deliberately endangering students..."

"The Purge doesn't understand what's at stake," Commander Clarke dismissed with a wave of his hand. "They want peaceful coexistence with an enemy that sees us as cattle."

"Nevertheless," Commander Hassan cautioned, "public opinion matters. The academies exist because humanity trusts us with their children."

"They trust us to create soldiers capable of ensuring human survival...their survival," corrected the Supreme General, his holographic eyes scanning the room. "That's precisely what we're doing."

Albright leaned forward, his ambition barely concealed. "My Adrian has been showing remarkable potential. In the right matchup, under sufficient pressure—"

"This isn't about individual glory, Albright," Owen cut him off, his patience finally wearing thin. "It's about finding whoever has the capacity to reach alpha-class, regardless of which academy they represent."

"Hmmmph~" Albright didn't say anything further.

"Perhaps," interjected Commander Morgan thoughtfully, "we should consider creating specific matchups rather than relying solely on the algorithm. Strategic pairings based on combat style incompatibility or personal history."

The General's hologram nodded slowly. "A hybrid approach. I like it."

"You're talking about manipulation beyond simple difficulty scaling," Commander Hassan observed.

"Call it what it is," Commander Wei said. "Psychological warfare against our own students."

"I call it necessary," Commander Reynolds countered. "Lucas and Jayden would never have reached S-rank without their rivalry pushing them beyond their limits."

"Then it's decided," the supreme general concluded, his voice carrying the weight of command across the vast distance between the Ark and Earth. "The algorithm will be recalibrated for increased difficulty, and you will manually override certain matchups to create optimal pressure conditions."

Owen felt a heaviness in his chest. This was the dark truth of the Ark Initiative—the secret purpose of the academies that no recruitment brochure would ever mention. They weren't just training soldiers; they were forcing evolutionary leaps through carefully orchestrated trauma.

"One last thing," the supreme general added, the transmission briefly fragmenting before stabilizing. "Supreme Command has authorized the deployment of combat stimulants for the final rounds."

Even Commander Clarke looked surprised at this. "Stims for students? That's unprecedented."

"So is the Harbinger offensive projected for next quarter," the Supreme General replied grimly. "We need alpha-class awakened soldiers, and we need them now. The situation up here—" he glanced around what must have been the Ark's command center before continuing, "—is more precarious than what you're being told in the official briefings."

The implications of his statement hung heavy in the air. If the Supreme General was admitting vulnerability from his position aboard humanity's most powerful vessel, the situation was dire indeed.

As the meeting concluded and the General's hologram dissolved, the commanders began to file out. Owen remained seated, staring at the tournament brackets still hovering above the table. Young faces, statistics, potential power ratings—clinical data that represented real young people who had no idea they were pawns in a much larger game.

Vice Commander Albright paused at the door. "Coming, sir?"

"In a moment," Owen replied without looking up.

When the room had emptied, he finally allowed his composure to crack, rubbing his temples with a weary sigh. Seventeen deaths from the Cannadah expedition still haunted him. Seventeen promising young lives cut short because they hadn't been strong enough—because he hadn't prepared them adequately.

If pushing the remaining students to their breaking point could prevent another Cannadah, wasn't that worth it? Even if it meant playing god with their development, even if it meant risking their physical and mental well-being?

Owen didn't have an answer. He only knew that tomorrow, he would watch from above as young men and women fought battles made deliberately, calculatedly harder than they needed to be—all in the hope that one of them might break in just the right way to become something more than human.

Something that might finally turn the tide against the Harbingers.

Something worth the cost.

But he didn't have to contemplate this alone.

Aboard the ark, the supreme General rubbed his head in pure exhaustion.

'Another crop of children to the slaughter. Another generation we're molding into weapons.' the Supreme General stood before the vast viewport, the endless void of space reflecting his hollow gaze. His uniform—impeccable in the holographic transmission moments ago—now hung loosely on his frame as he allowed his shoulders to slump under the weight only he could feel.

'We've become exactly what we swore we'd never be. Sparta reborn. Ancient Rome with spaceships. Breaking children to remake them stronger.' He pressed his palm against the cold glass, watching the distant Earth rotate slowly beneath them. 'How many times have I condemned the Harbingers for seeing us as resources, not beings? Yet here I stand, calculating acceptable casualty rates among teenagers.'

His reflection stared back at him—lines carving valleys into his face that weren't there when this all began, when this war began, almost a century old.

'Monsters fighting monsters. That's what we are. But monsters don't feel this... hollowing. This ache.'

The Ark's engines hummed beneath his feet—humanity's greatest achievement and perhaps its funeral pyre.

'We need miracles to survive. S-ranks. SS-ranks. But at what point does survival become meaningless if this is what it costs? If this is what we become?'