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

Sophie pressed herself against a cold metal of the industrial piping, feeling the vibrations of something massive moving through the facility below. The single-horn Harbinger prowled between the processing stations like a caged tiger—all coiled muscle and barely contained violence. Its scarred hide told stories of battles that had probably leveled city blocks.

"Christ," George whispered, his voice tight as piano wire. He was one of the volunteers for this recon. The kid was trying to keep it together, but Sophie could see the tremor in his hands as he gripped his rifle. "How are the workers just... ignoring it?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Down in the maze of conveyor belts and processing stations, human miners went about their business with the kind of mundane focus you'd expect from any industrial operation. Except for the seven-foot alien death machine pacing among them like it owned the place.

"Something's wrong here," Diana murmured, those ice-blue eyes tracking the creature's movement. "Harbingers don't coexist. They dominate or they destroy."

Sophie studied the scene through her scope, trying to piece together what they were actually looking at. The EDF soldiers she could see were maintaining what appeared to be standard patrol patterns, but there was something off about their positioning. Too spread out. Too... casual.

"There," Lyra pointed toward a cluster of soldiers near the main processing hub. "Military personnel. Should we try to make contact?"

Kole shifted nervously beside her. He was the second volunteer. "What if it's some kind of trap?"

"Only one way to find out," Sophie said, though every instinct she'd developed over months of combat was screaming warnings. "We go in soft. Get a situation report."

They moved through the industrial labyrinth with the kind of coordinated silence that had kept them alive on deployments. Sophie took point, her reflexes letting her navigate the terrain while keeping one eye on that prowling Harbinger. Diana ghosted along behind her, power coiled and ready. Lyra brought up the rear, and Sophie couldn't shake the feeling that her teammate was holding something back—had been holding something back since Nebular.

The girl was all sunshine and giggles most of the time, but when things got deadly serious, she had a tendency to... disappear. Not literally. Just mentally. Like she was somewhere else entirely.

As they approached the processing station, Sophie spotted one of the EDF soldiers—a sergeant with the kind of weathered face that spoke of too many deployments in too many hellholes. He was examining a piece of mining equipment, but his eyes kept flicking toward their position.

He'd made them.

"Sergeant," Sophie called out softly, stepping into view with her weapon lowered but ready.

The man's head snapped up, and for just a moment, Sophie saw something flicker across his face. Relief? Fear? Then it was gone, replaced by the kind of professional mask that came with years of military service.

"Jesus, you scared me," he said, moving toward them with what looked like genuine gratitude. "Sergeant Williams, 4th Engineering Battalion. Where the hell did you come from?"

"Sophie Reign, Pathfinder Seven," she replied, studying his body language. Everything about him screamed legitimate military, but something was making her skin crawl. "We're conducting a reconnaissance sweep. What's your status here?"

Williams glanced around nervously, then gestured for them to move closer. "It's... complicated. We've got a hostage situation. The Harbingers showed up three days ago, but they're not behaving like the ones we've seen on other worlds."

"Hostage situation?" Diana stepped forward, her voice sharp with suspicion.

"The civilians," Williams explained, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "The miners, the facility workers. The Harbingers aren't killing them. They're... using them somehow. We think it's some kind of control mechanism."

Sophie felt the first cold touch of real fear. Mind control was supposed to be impossible for Harbingers. At least not recorded yet. They were apex predators, not puppet masters.

"How many personnel do you have operational?" she asked.

"About fifty EDF, maybe twenty support staff who managed to avoid whatever's happening to the others. We've been trying to maintain our positions without triggering a larger response." Williams' eyes darted toward the single-horn, which had paused in its patrol and was watching their conversation with obvious interest. "But it's getting harder. They're learning our patterns."

"What kind of control mechanism?" Lyra asked, and Sophie noticed her teammate's voice had lost its usual bubbly quality.

Williams looked genuinely terrified. "We don't know. But the affected personnel... they're still themselves, mostly. They follow orders, maintain their posts, even hold conversations. But there's something wrong with their priorities. They're more concerned with facility operations than human survival."

That tracked with what Sophie was seeing. The miners below were working with the kind of mechanical efficiency that suggested everything was normal. Too normal.

"We need to establish communication with your command structure," Sophie said. "Get a full tactical assessment before we—"

"Actually," Williams interrupted, "I need to know a few things first. How many personnel did you bring planet-side? What's your support structure? Are there other teams deployed?"

The questions hit Sophie like ice water. Too specific. Too tactical. And the way Williams was asking them—like he was filling out a report rather than coordinating with fellow soldiers.

"Why do you need those details?" Diana asked, her hand moving subtly toward her sidearm.

Williams smiled, and Sophie realized with crystalline clarity that they'd just walked into a trap.

"Because," he said, his voice losing all pretense of military courtesy, "the Coordination Authority is very interested in detailed intelligence regarding EDF response capabilities."

The spark that danced across Sophie's fingertips was so brief she almost missed it. Her probability field, activating for the first time since they'd landed.

Something was about to go catastrophically wrong or hopefully right.

---

Two kilometers away, Commander Pierce watched the tactical feeds with growing unease. His surveillance drones were providing crystal-clear imagery of the facility, and what he was seeing made his stomach clench with familiar dread.

"Sir," Elena Vasquez called out from her position at the communications array, "Pathfinder Seven has made contact with facility personnel. Should we establish overwatch protocols?"

Pierce stared at the displays, watching as Sophie's team approached what appeared to be a routine military briefing. But he could see things that the recon team couldn't. The positioning of the other soldiers throughout the facility. The way the civilian workers had subtly shifted their locations. The single-horn Harbinger that was now moving with deliberate purpose rather than random patrol patterns.

It was a trap. And he was about to watch five of his people walk straight into it.

"Sir?" Vasquez pressed. "Overwatch protocols?"

Pierce's throat felt dry. On the screen, he could see Williams talking to Sophie, could see the way the man's posture had shifted from nervous to confident. Whatever was happening down there, it was about to get ugly.

"Maintain observation," he said finally. "Do not engage."

"Sir, if they're compromised—"

"I said maintain observation!" Pierce snapped, his voice cracking. "We need to assess the full scope of the situation before committing additional resources."

The squadron exchanged glances. In the tactical displays, they could all see what was developing. And they could all see that their commander was paralyzed by something he wasn't sharing.

---

Back at the processing station, Williams was no longer bothering to hide his true nature. "Five personnel, light armament, minimal support backup. The Authority will be pleased."

His hand moved toward his communication device, and Sophie's probability field exploded into chaos.

"All stations," Williams said into his comm, "we have Pathfinder Seven personnel at Processing Station Delta. Initiate containment protocols."

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Alarms shrieked through the facility like tortured metal. The single-horn Harbinger let out a sound like a landslide and began moving toward their position with predatory intent.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The civilian workers—the miners who'd been operating equipment with such mundane efficiency—suddenly turned toward them with coordinated precision. And as they raised their hands, the industrial platform beneath Sophie's feet began to buckle and twist as gravitational fields tore at the very structure of reality.

"Geo manipulation!" Diana shouted, throwing up a null zone that froze a section of shifting metal in place. The effort turned her face pale, but she held the field steady. "They're bringing down the platform!"

George opened fire on Williams, but the sergeant moved with combat-trained precision, diving behind a processing unit while returning fire with clean accuracy. Kole tried to provide cover, but the platform was shifting beneath their feet like a living thing.

The affected miners weren't just using their powers—they were coordinating them. One group liquefied the flooring while another twisted the support beams. A third team manipulated the overhead gantries to rain debris down on Sophie's position.

It was like fighting a geological disaster that could think.

Sophie's luck field was spinning probability threads in directions she couldn't predict or control. A support beam twisted away from Diana just as she needed cover. Kole slipped on suddenly-liquefied metal flooring. A piece of falling debris knocked Williams' aim off just as he was lining up a shot on George.

"Lyra!" Sophie called out as the platform shuddered beneath them. "Whatever you're holding back, now would be good!"

Her teammate looked at her with an expression Sophie had never seen before—equal parts apologetic and terrifying.

"Finally," Lyra said, and tossed her rifle aside.

What happened next shattered every assumption Sophie had made about her bubbly, hyperactive teammate.

Lyra's human form began to shift and expand, her frame stretching upward as muscle mass doubled and then tripled. Her arms lengthened and thickened, developing additional joints that provided impossible leverage. But she didn't stop there.

Extra limbs erupted from her shoulders and back—not human arms, but serrated appendages that looked like they could punch through tank armor. Her torso broadened into something that belonged in humanity's worst nightmares, all corded muscle and grace.

She'd turned to some ape kind of monster.

"Shape shifting. Right, well of course!" Sophie thought.

The creature that had been Lyra launched itself at the nearest group of miners with inhuman speed. Her multiple limbs moved in perfect coordination, each one striking different targets while her enhanced strength sent bodies flying through the air like ragdolls.

One miner tried to trap her in liquefying concrete. She punched through the shifting surface, grabbed him by his work vest, and hurled him into a processing machine with enough force to crumple industrial steel.

Meanwhile, Diana was playing a desperate game of defense against three miners who were working together to create gravitational distortions. Her null zones could freeze sections of the attack, but she couldn't cover everything at once.

"Sophie!" Diana's voice was strained with effort. "I can't hold them all!"

Sophie was already moving, her enhanced reflexes allowing her to navigate the shifting terrain while firing carefully placed shots from her Ravager rifle. The weapon's stun setting required precise targeting against opponents who were actively trying to collapse the ground beneath her feet.

She dropped two miners with shots to center mass, but more were emerging from other parts of the facility. And the single-horn Harbinger was still advancing, having shrugged off the debris that Sophie's probability field had initially thrown in its path.

George and Kole were engaged in a running firefight with Williams and two other soldiers who'd revealed their true allegiances. The young men were holding their own, but Sophie could see they were being pushed back toward the platform's edge where a fifty-foot drop waited.

That's when her probability field decided to get creative.

A damaged piece of mining equipment suddenly reactivated, its automated systems interpreting the geological chaos as a routine operation. The machine extended a drilling apparatus directly into the single-horn's path.

The Harbinger sidestepped with casual ease, but the movement put it off balance as debris—dislodged by the drill's vibrations—fell from overhead. The creature ducked, which positioned it perfectly to be struck by a section of conveyor belt that one of Lyra's throws had knocked loose.

Sophie watched in fascination and growing horror as causality bent around her like light around a black hole. Every event created the next event, building toward some conclusion she couldn't see.

The conveyor belt strike knocked the single-horn sideways, directly into a mining cart that had been set in motion by the gravitational manipulation. The impact sent the creature stumbling toward Kole's position.

Kole was focused on his firefight, didn't see the massive alien bearing down on him until it was almost too late. Sophie's heart stopped as she realized what was about to happen. The single-horn's trajectory would put it directly behind the young soldier just as he was reloading.

She launched herself across the platform, adrenaline spike allowing her to cover the distance in heartbeats. But as she tackled Kole clear, her probability field triggered another cascade.

Their combined momentum sent them rolling directly into the path of industrial equipment falling from the overhead structure. Sophie threw Kole clear, but the movement put her in perfect alignment with the single-horn's recovery swing.

The creature, having missed its initial target, spun with fury and threw a punch that could have caved in a bunker wall.

Sophie saw the massive fist approaching her face with crystalline clarity. She could feel the air displacement, could calculate the kinetic energy that was about to turn her head into paste. Time stretched like taffy as she realized her probability field had created the exact scenario she had been trying to prevent.

Then there was a sound like reality tearing, and the single-horn jerked backward as something punched a hole clean through its chest.

The creature toppled forward, its massive form hitting the platform with enough force to crack the metal decking. Behind where it had been standing, purple energy swirled and coalesced into a familiar figure.

Noah lowered his hand, void energy still crackling around his fingers like he'd just fired a cannon made of the universe's most devastating handgun.

"Babe," he said with that particular grin that meant he was trying not to show how terrified he'd been. "Miss me?"

"Noah..." She half breath and choked his name.

"Hey," he said, walking towards her to help her up, "I thought I had it bad with three hundred armed miners trying to kill me."

Sophie felt relief flood through her system as she realized her boyfriend had just saved her life with probably the most dramatic entrance in military history.

"But looking at this situation," Noah continued, gesturing at the transformed Lyra who was currently using four arms to hold down two miners while punching a third with her fifth appendage, "I'm thinking you guys might have had it worse."

---

At the overwatch position, Pierce stood frozen as the chaos unfolded on his displays. His entire squadron was watching the feeds, seeing their people fighting for their lives against overwhelming odds.

"Sir!" Elena Vasquez's voice cut through his paralysis. "Request immediate permission to deploy support! They're being overrun!"

Pierce's face had gone ashen, his usual arrogance replaced by something that looked like raw panic. "Negative. We maintain position."

"Sir, they need covering fire! We can establish an extraction corridor—"

"I said negative!" Pierce's voice cracked like a whip, but there was no authority behind it. Only fear.

The squadron members exchanged looks that spoke of rapidly dissolving confidence. Below them, their teammates were fighting for their lives, and the man who was supposed to be making tactical decisions was frozen by whatever demons were eating him alive.

Something was very wrong with Commander Pierce. And everyone was starting to notice.