Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner Chapter 122 Top of the top secrets

The office of the military academy's upper brass was a room of pure authority—cold steel walls reinforced with armor plating, the academy's insignia displayed prominently behind a massive, polished obsidian desk.

The long rectangular table at the center, sleek and minimalist, reflected the dim lighting above. It was a room designed for business, for strategy, for the molding of warriors that would one day stand at the front lines against the Harbingers.

Seated around the table were five individuals, all of them dressed in the crisp, official attire befitting their roles.

At the head sat Commander Owen, the academy's headmaster. Broad-shouldered, aged like a war veteran should be—scarred, grizzled, but still exuding the raw power of a man who had seen battle and walked away victorious. Beside him, Vice Headmaster Commander Albright was an equally imposing figure, though where Owen was rough-hewn steel, Albright was polished brass—sharp, analytical, and unapologetically ruthless.

Across from them sat the three first-year horoom instructors.

Mr. Vain, representing Class 1A, had the sharp, composed deanor of a man who never lost control. His navy-blue military coat was pristine, every button aligned, every fold ironed into perfection. With neatly combed silver-streaked hair and piercing blue eyes, he carried himself with the confidence of soone who knew his students would dominate.

Beside him was Mr. Rourke, the instructor for Class 1C. Where Vain was refined, Rourke was all muscle and swagger. His uniform was the sa as everyone else's, but he wore it loose, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms like steel cables. His dark beard was neatly trimd, but his smirk spoke of a man who enjoyed bending rules just to see if anyone dared to stop him.

And then there was Miss Brooks, horoom teacher for Class 1B.

She sat straight-backed, hands folded on the table, her expression neutral, betraying nothing. Unlike her male colleagues, she wore a white blouse tucked into a form-fitting black pencil skirt, her uniform regulation-tight but still straining against the sheer volu of her curves—a fact emphasized by the way the fabric of her blouse fought against her ample bust. The top buttons remained undone, though whether by intent or because fastening them would be an outright battle was unclear.

Her long, black hair was tied in a professional updo, but a few rebellious strands had broken free, framing a face that, under different circumstances, could have belonged to a model rather than a military instructor. Not that anyone in the room would dare say it aloud.

The air was thick with unspoken tension, a current of authority and expectation bubbling between them as Commander Albright leaned forward.

"Good," Albright began, voice clipped, sharp, and to the point. "I appreciate everyone arriving on ti." His eyes swept across the room, stopping just briefly on Miss Brooks—a flicker of sothing pointed there, but he continued.

"This eting is to address the current dire state of our cadets," he stated plainly, folding his hands together. "And that is why you, as horoom instructors for our first-year students, have been brought in."

A beat of silence followed, one filled with unspoken weight before Commander Owen took over.

"It is no secret," Owen said, his deep, battle-worn voice carrying the gravitas of years spent leading soldiers, "that in the last three years, this academy has managed to produce only one Alpha-class Awakened soldier." He paused, letting that sink in. "A single S-rank talent—Lucas Grey."

Nobody spoke.

They didn't need to.

Lucas Grey. The academy's golden child. A na synonymous with perfection within these walls. The uncontested number one—the only one who had managed to awaken beyond the standard thresholds, reaching a level of power that humanity desperately needed more of.

"And we all know," Owen continued, "that in a short ti, Grey will be graduating."

The implication was clear. There was nobody else waiting in the wings to replace him.

Owen exhaled, placing both hands on the table. "And yet, the Harbingers continue to grow stronger." His eyes scanned the room, landing on each of them as if personally holding them responsible. "Every day, humanity across all its colonies faces an ever-growing threat. We need new soldiers—not just first-generation talents, not just second or third-tier Awakened." His gaze sharpened. "We need warriors that can stand against extinction."

A heavy silence followed.

And then, Owen continued.

"That is why," he said, tone asured, "I expect your full attention on the upcoming interschool competition."

To the rest of the academy, the interschool competition was just another event—a show of prestige, a place for students to test themselves, to win honors, to bring glory to their institutions.

But here? Now?

It was sothing else entirely.

"For us," Owen continued, "it is an opportunity."

To push students to their absolute limits. To force awakenings that might otherwise remain buried. To find the next Lucas Grey before it's too late.

"As always," he finished, his voice dropping into sothing more deliberate, "the instructors who nurture S-ranked talents under their wing will be rewarded handsoly."

A pause.

Then Mr. Vain, ever the professional, adjusted his cuffs and nodded.

"I have several promising cadets," he said smoothly. "I will keep close watch on them in the coming weeks."

Predictable. Vain was always the composed one, calculated in his approach.

Rourke, on the other hand, let out a short chuckle, his tone much rougher, more self-assured.

"Hell," he said, leaning back slightly, "sa here. So real fighters in my class. They just need the right push."

And then silence.

Miss Brooks had not spoken.

Albright's gaze slid toward her, and for the first ti, his expression **shifted—**not just authoritative, but pointed.

"Brooks," he said, his tone too casual to be genuine, "you've been rather quiet."

Miss Brooks didn't blink.

"Do you not have any talents worth ntioning?"

A deliberate needle.

A challenge.

A flicker of sothing unreadable crossed her face, but when she spoke, it was in the sa calm, professional tone as always.

"I will do as my colleagues have said," she replied smoothly. "I will keep watch."

It was a nothing answer—polite, neutral, utterly devoid of any reaction that Albright could sink his teeth into.

And judging by the way his expression tightened ever so slightly, he knew it.

For a brief second, they shared a stare between them.

Then, Albright exhaled, leaning back. "Good."

Commander Owen took that as the signal to end the eting, standing with his usual air of finality. "That will be all. I expect results. Dismissed."

The instructors stood, their movents precise, disciplined.

Miss Brooks was the first to leave.

And if her blouse strained just a little more as she moved, if the tension between her and Albright lingered like an unresolved battlefield—

Nobody said a word.

The mont they stepped out of the eting room, the cold air of the academy halls did little to thaw the competitive atmosphere between the instructors.

Mr. Vain, as expected, was the first to speak.

"Let's be honest," he said, adjusting the cuffs of his pristine military coat, his tone smooth but carrying an unmistakable edge. "The next Alpha-class talent—if there even is one—will co from my class. 1A has always been the strongest, the most disciplined, the most—"

"—spoiled?" Rourke cut in with a smirk, his hands slipping casually into his pockets. He rolled his shoulders, the fabric of his uniform shifting against his broad fra. "You an the ones with the fancy lineage, right? The ones who already think they've made it before even stepping onto a battlefield?"

Vain's expression didn't shift, but there was a tightness in his jaw. "You mistake structure for privilege, Rourke. My students will thrive because they are the best. The Alpha-awakened talent, if one erges, will be from 1A. I'd bet on it."

Rourke let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You'd bet on it? Yeah, well, let's see what happens when the real tests begin. Toughness isn't built on polished floors, Vain. It's forged in the dirt."

Miss Brooks didn't bother indulging in the brewing argunt.

She turned on her heel, walking away with the sa composed grace she always carried.

Her mind was elsewhere.

'The school… searching for sothing that wasn't lost,'

She muttered the words under her breath, gripping the small tablet pressed to her chest.

The screen glowed dimly as she scrolled through the roster of 1B, her students' nas flashing before her in orderly lines. But instead of nas, all she saw were ghosts.

So many were marked deceased—a grim reminder of the Harbinger attack on Cannadah during the last off-planet expedition. Her students. Her responsibility.

Now, only a handful remained.

Her fingers swiped absently down the list.

Adrian Albright. She barely hesitated on the na before continuing.

Kelvin Pithon. A pause. Then another flick.

Then—

Noah Eclipse.

Her scrolling slowed.

Her eyes lingered.

Why?

A breath passed, and then she shook her head, forcing herself to move on.

The trials would begin soon.

She had already made it clear: her students would not fail her.

Not again.

And certainly not this ti.

Commander Albright stood by the grand window of the academy's upper halls, his hands clasped behind his back, watching as Miss Brooks walked away—her figure disappearing down the long corridor.

His lips pressed into a thin line. The woman barely even acknowledged him in that eting.

'That insufferable woman…'

He had given her his son. Adrian Albright. A boy of pedigree, of strength. A natural-born leader.

And yet—

She overlooked him.

No praise. No recognition. No extra attention.

Instead, she put so nobody in the spotlight.

'Noah Eclipse.'

Albright's fingers curled into his palm.

Who the hell was that kid?

Nothing special. No grand lineage. No connections. Just another throwaway cadet.

And yet, Brooks—that woman—gave him more ti than she ever did Adrian.

'She thinks she can make her own choices… as if the system isn't watching.'

His gaze darkened.

'No. She's not getting away with it.'

Everything was already in motion.

By the end of this tournant, he would expose her.

Expose Noah Eclipse.

And when it was over?

Everything would go exactly as planned.