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

Noah was reviewing tactical positions when one of his team members, Martinez, approached with the kind of hesitant expression that meant bad news was coming.

"Sir, we've got some supply discrepancies that need your attention."

"What kind of discrepancies?" Noah asked, though he suspected he already knew.

"Food rations, mostly. About fifteen percent of our emergency supplies are unaccounted for. Could be inventory errors, but..." Martinez shrugged. "The amounts match what we've been distributing to the civilian population."

'Taking extra food. Normal behavior for people in distress. Makes sense—they've been surviving on minimal resources for days.'

"Understandable," Noah said calmly. "People in crisis situations often take more than they immediately need. It's a survival instinct."

But Martinez wasn't finished. "There's more, sir. We're also missing some ballistic equipment— as well as three tactical knives, four sidearms, and a field scanner. Tech crew reported missing portable scanners and communication boosters as well."

Noah felt his analytical mind shift into higher gear. 'Food theft was understandable. Equipment theft suggested different motivations. More organized. More tactical.'

"How much equipment total?"

"Significant enough to matter, sir. The missing scanners alone represent serious tactical capability if they end up in the wrong hands."

Noah nodded thoughtfully, maintaining his calm exterior while his mind catalogued implications. 'Organized theft of military equipment. By people who supposedly don't know we're coming. By refugees who should be grateful for rescue, not planning contingencies.'

"We'll manage with what we have," he said finally. "Double-check our remaining inventory and make sure our critical systems are secured. But don't make accusations. These people have been through trauma—sometimes that manifests in behaviors that seem suspicious but are actually survival responses."

Martinez looked relieved. "Understood, sir."

As the soldier walked away, Noah found himself studying the civilian camp with renewed focus. 'Food, weapons, scanners, communication equipment. If I were planning some kind of operation, those would be exactly the resources I'd need. The question is—operation against what?'

---

An hour later, the tribal leader approached with his usual blend of deference and quiet authority. Behind him walked six individuals who moved with the kind of confident alertness that suggested they were used to being in charge.

"Commander Eclipse," the leader said formally, "we've selected volunteers who know the residential areas well. They can guide your soldiers to the most important locations."

"Excellent," Noah replied. "How many of my personnel are you comfortable with for the reconnaissance mission?"

"We were thinking a small group would be less intimidating to any civilians we might encounter. Perhaps six of your soldiers with six of our guides?"

'Even numbers. Mixed groups. Perfect for ensuring my people are never in tactical superiority during the mission. Either he's being genuinely diplomatic, or he's making sure my soldiers are manageable if something goes wrong.'

"That sounds reasonable," Noah said. "I'll select personnel who are experienced in civilian interaction protocols."

As they finalized the arrangements, Noah found himself watching the volunteers' faces. They listened with the kind of focused attention that suggested they were memorizing details rather than just following conversation. Professional attention. Not the scattered focus of traumatized civilians.

'Too attentive. Too organized. Too ready with solutions that happen to benefit their strategic position.'

Twenty minutes later, Noah positioned himself on a rocky outcropping that provided overwatch of both the main camp and the departure route for the reconnaissance teams. The mixed groups had left—his soldiers maintaining standard patrol formation while the civilian guides moved with the kind of terrain knowledge that came from long familiarity.

That's when he spotted movement at the northern perimeter.

Communications Specialist Biden was walking back toward the camp, carrying his portable equipment and looking like someone who'd been up all night working on a technical problem. Normal. Expected. Exactly what should happen when someone finds a better signal position.

But something was wrong with the picture.

Noah locked his eyes on the soldier, focusing on Biden's approach pattern. The man was walking with confidence, but he kept glancing back toward the terrain he'd come from. Not the behavior of someone who'd been working alone. The behavior of someone who'd been interacting with other people.

'He's been talking to someone. Out there, away from camp, away from our security perimeter. Talking to whom?'

Noah began a casual sweep of the main camp, ostensibly checking on his soldiers' positions but actually conducting an informal headcount. Yesterday they'd accounted for approximately three hundred civilians. Standard procedure in humanitarian situations—you always knew your numbers.

Now, watching the groups scattered across the crystalline terrain, something felt different.

'Too few people. The crowd looks smaller, but the activity level is the same. Where did the missing personnel go?'

A more careful count confirmed his suspicions. They were down at least forty civilians from yesterday's numbers. And checking his mental roster of his own personnel, he realized three soldiers were unaccounted for—not the ones sent on the reconnaissance mission, but others who should have been at their assigned posts.

'Forty civilians missing. Three soldiers missing. Biden returning from unauthorized contact. Equipment theft. Too much coordination.'

Noah made his decision.

He approached one of the civilian groups, selecting an older woman who'd been among the most vocal in expressing gratitude yesterday. Someone who'd seemed genuinely distressed and relieved by their rescue.

"Excuse me," he said, "I wanted to check how you and your family are managing with the temporary shelter arrangements."

The woman looked up with immediate understanding, responding with the same look of gratitude and appreciation. "Oh, we're doing much better now that you're here. The children especially feel safer."

Noah nodded politely and walked away, his mind racing.

'Fascinating,' he thought wryly, remembering the code word kelvin and himself used when they went to meet Elise Rowe back on earth at the Nexus arena. Looking back now, those were fun times.

This wasn't.

'She understood perfect Standard Earth English. Yesterday, we needed translation software to communicate. Either they took language courses overnight, or they've been lying about their linguistic capabilities from the beginning.'

He approached his soldiers, who were watching his interaction with obvious curiosity. Maya Melendez stepped forward with professional concern.

"Sir? Everything alright?"

Noah's expression had shifted to something his teammates would have recognized—the focused intensity that meant he'd found a pattern that changed everything.

He raised his hand in a specific military signal:

*On me. Defensive positions.*

His soldiers immediately shifted formation, their training overriding confusion about why their commander was suddenly treating a humanitarian situation like a combat zone.

Noah turned around smoothly, his Ravager rifle coming up in a steady, professional grip aimed directly at the civilian camp.

The reaction was immediate. Shocked faces, confused voices, people backing away from the weapon with the kind of genuine fear that Noah might have believed if not for everything else.

"Sir!" one of his soldiers called out. "What are you doing? These are innocent civilians!"

Noah's voice remained calm and controlled. "I turned off my translator and spoke with our friend here in Standard Earth English. Yesterday, these people needed translation software to understand basic commands. Today, she responded fluently."

The tribal leader was pushing through the crowd, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. "What is the meaning of this? We're grateful for your rescue, but this is—"

"Stand down!" Noah's voice cracked like a whip. "Stop advancing and keep your hands visible!"

But the leader continued moving forward, his voice rising in what sounded like genuine outrage. "You point weapons at refugees? At families who've been hiding in fear?"

"Earth invaders!" The shout came from somewhere in the crowd, and suddenly the pretense shattered completely. "Scourge of our world! Polluters of our sacred ground!"

The voices multiplied rapidly—dozens of people screaming accusations in perfect Standard Earth English, their earlier linguistic difficulties forgotten in their rage.

Noah sighed, his weapon never wavering. "I knew something was wrong. I just didn't realize it was this extensive."

The crowd was making coordinated hand gestures, and the crystalline ground beneath the camp began to shift. Sand and rock moved with unnatural fluidity, revealing hidden weapons caches that had been concealed with geological precision. The team's missing Ravager rifles emerged from the earth, now in the hands of the same "refugees" who'd been expressing gratitude hours earlier.

'Miners. Geological manipulation abilities. They've been using the terrain itself as a storage and concealment system.'

Behind them, Noah could hear the distinctive sound of their transport vessel groaning as sand flowed around its landing struts, pulling it inexorably downward.

"Sir!" Melendez called out, her voice tight with professional calm. "Transport's compromised! We've got hostile contacts on all sides!"

Noah counted quickly. Two hundred people, all armed with stolen military equipment, arranged in a perfect tactical encirclement. His thirty-seven soldiers were trapped in the center of a crystalline amphitheater with limited cover and no escape routes.

"What's your call, sir?" Melendez asked.

Noah's mind worked through options with lightning speed. 'Non-lethal approach. These are still human beings, even if they're trying to kill us. Need to create an exit corridor and regroup at a defensive position. Need to figure out why we're being hunted by the people we came to rescue.'

"Bring them hell," he said quietly. "Non-lethal approach, but make sure they understand why we're trained professionals. I need a corridor to that ridge line—now!"

[Void Blink activated]

Noah disappeared in a streak of dark purple energy, reappearing directly beside the nearest hostile. The man had time to register surprise before Noah's enhanced strength sent him flying backward into three of his companions.

"Regroup on my position!" Noah called out as his soldiers snapped into combat formation. "Controlled withdrawal! Watch your targets—these are still human beings!"

The battlefield erupted into chaos, but Noah's mind remained coldly analytical. 'This was planned. Coordinated. They knew we were coming, knew our capabilities, prepared countermeasures. The question is—how did they know? And what happened to the reconnaissance team?'

As his soldiers fought their way toward the ridge line, Noah made another tactical decision that would have consequences he couldn't predict.

'I need to warn the others. Given the hitch on comms, I'd say this isn't just happening here—this is system-wide. But I can't abandon my team.'

"Melendez!" he called out. "I need thirty seconds!"

She nodded, understanding that whatever he was planning would require covering fire. Noah approached the nearest member of his squad—Corporal Martinez, who was providing suppressing fire with professional competence.

"Martinez! I need you to accept something you won't understand!"

"Sir?"

Noah placed his hand on the soldier's shoulder, feeling the void energy establish a connection that his system immediately registered.

[Domain Link Successfull]

[Match: Martinez]

"I'm going to gather intelligence on our threat situation and return with tactical information. Hold this position, maintain defensive perimeter, and wait for my return. That's a direct order."

"Sir, where are you—"

Noah was already stepping back, void energy swirling around him as he prepared for a jump that would take him across star systems.

"Sophie," he whispered, focusing on the Domain link he'd established with his teammates since the arena days when kelvin got kidnapped.

[Domain link activated]

[Target : Sophie Reign]

The last thing Noah saw before disappearing in a vortex of dark purple energy was Melendez leading his soldiers in a tactical withdrawal that would hopefully keep them alive until he returned.

And somewhere in his mind, the analytical part that never stopped working was already connecting dots that led to conclusions he hoped were wrong.