Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner Chapter 551: Divergence

Within the hour, Eclipse teams had boarded transports and scattered across the eastern sector.

Behind each transport, drones flew in formation. Compact units with stabilized caras, broadcasting everything to the public feed. They were live.

Inside one of these transports on route to the northern settlent cluster, Noah’s team prepared for deploynt. The cabin was spacious enough for twelve people plus equipnt, configured with facing bench seats and overhead storage. Screens mounted along the walls showed the exterior view, flight teletry, and a small window displaying their livestream chat scrolling past too fast to read individual ssages.

Noah sat near the front, reviewing mission paraters on his tablet. dical supply escort to Settlent Gamma-Nine, which was experiencing what local authorities called a "severe plague outbreak." The symptoms listed were vague—fever, respiratory distress, rapid onset. Nothing that matched standard disease profiles, but frontier dicine was often imprecise. Their job was simple: deliver the supplies, ensure they reached the dical facilities intact, get paid.

They’d picked up a cargo from another location after leaving the faction and now headed for delivery.

Marcus sat across from him, watching the chat scroll. "We’re at sixty thousand viewers already. Contract hasn’t even started."

"People like dical missions," Reyna said from her position near the rear. She was checking her weapon for the third ti, a nervous habit Noah had noticed during previous deploynts. "Makes us look heroic instead of just violent."

"We are heroic," another recruit said. Chen, Noah rembered. The sensory specialist who’d been with them since the North aftermath. "We literally saved original family heads from a terrorist organization. That’s objectively heroic."

"Yeah, but that was a black mission that was never aired. And punching things looks cooler on cara," Marcus replied. "dical escort is gonna be boring as hell to watch."

"Boring pays the sa as exciting," Noah said without looking up from his tablet. "And personally, I prefer boring."

The team chuckled. Several of them had been on the blob contract a couple of hours ago. Boring sounded great compared to that ss.

A woman sitting near the transport’s starboard viewport spoke up. "Anyone else notice the Mommy Club is trending again? Diana’s fanbase is insane."

"They made t-shirts," Chen added, pulling up sothing on his own tablet. "Look at this. ’Freeze Mommy’ with Diana’s face. They’re selling them at settlent markets."

"That’s disturbing," Reyna said.

"You an profitable," Marcus corrected. "Sophie’s "Reigners" are doing the sa thing. Except theirs say stuff like ’Calculated Chaos’ and have probability equations on the back."

Noah had heard about this. The streaming initiative that was supposed to make Eclipse more transparent and trustworthy had spawned an entire ecosystem of fan culture he didn’t fully understand. Each core team mber had developed their own following, complete with dedicated fan pages, rchandise, and increasingly creative nicknas.

"Kelvin’s tech enthusiasts are the weirdest," another recruit said. Torres, Noah thought. "They don’t just watch his streams. They analyze every piece of equipnt he uses and try to reverse-engineer his designs."

"Has anyone actually succeeded?" Chen asked.

"One guy built a working plasma rifle based on KRO’s shoulder cannon. Posted the schematics online. Kelvin had to issue a statent saying that was illegal and please stop."

"Did they stop?"

"Hell no. Now there’s three different versions and people are arguing about which one’s more accurate."

The conversation shifted to Seraleth’s fanbase, which had apparently exploded after soone started making artistic renderings of her in various combat poses. The images were respectful but definitely emphasized her seven-foot fra and the way her armor fit. Shirts with slogans like "Fear the Elf" and "Lilivil’s Finest" were selling faster than printers could produce them.

Noah’s own fanbase was complicated by the dragons. People didn’t just follow him—they followed Nyx, Storm, and Ivy as individual entities. There were entire discussion boards dedicated to analyzing dragon behavior, debating which one was strongest, creating elaborate theories about their origins.

"Nyx gets the most fanart," Marcus said, still scrolling through content on his tablet. "People love that final boss energy he gives off. All that fire and intimidation. They call him the Red Death King."

"Storm’s got the playful angle," Chen added. "After that thing where he gave recruits rides, people lost their minds. He’s got a whole subsection of fans who just want to pet him."

"Ivy’s the elegant one," Reyna said. "Grace and power. Plus there’s sothing about a dragon that uses plants instead of fire that people find fascinating."

Noah listened without comnting. The dragon worship was strange but harmless. As long as people didn’t actually try approaching Nyx, Storm, or Ivy without permission, he didn’t care what they posted online.

The transport’s pilot spoke over intercom. "Approaching Settlent Gamma-Nine airspace. ETA fifteen minutes. Weather’s clear, temperature’s reading twenty-two degrees. No complications expected."

Noah closed his tablet, focused on the mission. "Alright, everyone listen up. This is a simple escort. We land, we verify cargo integrity, we deliver to the dical facility, we leave. No heroics. No showing off for the caras. Just professional work."

"What about threats?" Marcus asked.

"Local security says plague is contained to dical facilities. No reports of beasts or hostile activity. We’re expecting smooth operations."

"Those are famous last words," Torres muttered.

"Then prove wrong and keep it boring."

The transport descended through atmosphere, and Noah watched Settlent Gamma-Nine resolve from distant dots to actual structures. It looked standard for frontier colonies—prefab buildings arranged in geotric patterns, agricultural zones surrounding the central hub, defensive walls that were more psychological comfort than actual protection against serious threats.

The dical facility was obvious even from altitude. Larger than surrounding structures, marked with universal dical symbols, isolated from residential areas by several hundred ters of empty ground.

They landed on a designated pad near the facility’s cargo entrance. The ramp extended, and Noah led his team out into afternoon sunlight that felt too warm for the season. The air slled wrong, like chemicals. It was sterile and with an underlying sweetness that made his instincts itch.

A woman in dical gear waited near the entrance. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, her clothes wrinkled like she’d been wearing them for days. "Eclipse Faction?"

"That’s us," Noah confird. "We’ve got your dical supplies. Where do you want them?"

"Loading bay three. Follow ."

Noah activated his comm. "Watch Command, this is Team Noah. We’ve landed at Gamma-Nine. Beginning delivery operations."

Sophie’s voice ca back clear and professional. "Copy that, Team Noah. All other teams report green status. Team Diana is approaching their site now. Team Lila is thirty minutes out. Team Lucas is en route to orbital rendezvous. Team Kelvin expects arrival in approximately forty-five minutes."

"Acknowledged." Noah gestured to his team. "Let’s move."

They unloaded cargo under the dical coordinator’s direction, moving sealed crates from transport to facility storage. Each crate was labeled with biohazard symbols and temperature requirents. Standard dical supplies, as far as Noah could tell. Vaccines, antibiotics, diagnostic equipnt.

Except the weight felt wrong. The crates were heavier than dical supplies should be, and when Marcus accidentally bumped one, the contents shifted with a sound that wasn’t quite right. Not liquid sloshing. Sothing more viscous. More contained.

"Everything okay?" the coordinator asked, noticing Noah’s attention.

"Fine. Just being careful."

They finished the delivery without incident. The coordinator signed off on the transfer, paynt processed automatically through Eclipse’s accounts, and Noah’s team loaded back into the transport.

"That was the easiest contract we’ve had in weeks," Marcus said as they lifted off.

"Don’t jinx it," Reyna replied.

Noah stared at Settlent Gamma-Nine shrinking below them, that chemical sll still in his nostrils, and tried to shake the feeling that sothing about this contract wasn’t quite right.

---

[Location: Western Frontier - Settlent Echo-Seven]

[Temp: 18°C]

[Status: Evacuation in Progress]

Lila’s transport touched down in chaos.

Settlent Echo-Seven was burning. Not the entire settlent—just sections of it, smoke rising from structures that had been damaged by what local authorities claid were beast attacks. People moved in panicked streams toward evacuation points, carrying whatever they could grab.

"This is worse than the briefing suggested," one of Lila’s team mbers said. Bella, who’d proven capable during training exercises. "They said minor beast incursion. This looks like a war zone."

"Stay focused," Lila replied, already moving down the ramp. "Our job is evacuation assistance. Help people to the transports, keep them calm, watch for threats."

The settlent coordinator t them halfway across the landing pad. Young guy, maybe twenty-five, with the kind of shell-shocked expression that ca from too much crisis and not enough sleep. "Thank god you’re here. The beasts ca three days ago. We’ve been trying to evacuate since but there’s too many people and not enough ships."

"What kind of beasts?" Lila asked.

"Category Twos mostly. So Threes. They’re not attacking anymore but people are terrified they’ll co back."

"Where are the beasts now?"

"Gone. Disappeared into the forest after the initial attack. Our trackers can’t find them."

That was strange. Beasts didn’t usually attack and then leave without claiming territory. Category Twos and Threes were aggressive but not intelligent enough for tactical retreats.

Lila pushed the thought aside. "Show us where you need help."

They spent the next two hours moving people. Families with children, elderly who couldn’t walk fast, injured who’d been hurt during the initial attack. Lila’s team worked efficiently, using their training to manage crowd control and ensure nobody got left behind.

Bella worked crowd managent with calmness, her voice carrying authority that kept panicking settlers focused. Another team mber—Kael, who’d joined after Hollowstar—used his enhanced strength to carry heavy equipnt and injured people who couldn’t walk.

"Watch Command, this is Team Lila," she reported during a brief pause. "Evacuation is proceeding smoothly. Approximately sixty percent of settlers have been moved to transports. No hostile contact. Estimate completion in ninety minutes."

"Copy that, Team Lila. All teams report nominal status. Keep up the good work."

Except sothing was bothering Lila. She watched the settlers being loaded onto transports, noticed how so of them moved. Too carefully. Too deliberately. Like they were protecting injuries that weren’t visible. And several had surgical scars—fresh ones, partially healed—visible on their arms and necks.

When one woman stumbled near Lila’s position, Lila caught her automatically. The woman’s sleeve pulled back, revealing a scar that ran from wrist to elbow in a pattern that looked deliberate rather than accidental.

"Are you okay?" Lila asked.

The woman pulled her arm back quickly, covering the scar. "Fine. Just tired."

She moved away before Lila could ask more questions, disappearing into the crowd of evacuees.

Lila activated her comm on a private channel. "Watch Command, this is Team Lila. Sothing feels off here. So of these evacuees have unusual scarring. Might be nothing but flagging it for your awareness."

"Noted," Sophie replied. "Continue evacuation operations. We’ll investigate."

---

[Location: Orbital Station Designation: Aurora-Nine]

[Temp: 21°C (Climate Controlled)]

[Status: Refugee Transport in Progress]

Lucas stood in the docking bay of Orbital Station Aurora-Nine, watching refugee transport ships arrive in steady intervals. Each one carried maybe two hundred people—families, individuals, groups who’d fled from various settlents claiming persecution or danger.

His team maintained security periter while station personnel processed incoming refugees. It was boring work, which Lucas appreciated after months in Arthur’s shadow dinsion. Boring ant nobody was dying.

"Team Lucas, status check," Sophie’s voice ca through comms.

"All green, Watch Command. Refugee processing is running smoothly. No security incidents. These people just look tired and scared."

"Copy that. Maintain current operations."

Lucas watched another ship dock, its ramp extending to disgorge a new wave of tired people. Most looked like normal settlers—working-class families who’d saved enough to flee whatever danger they’d faced. But scattered among them were individuals who moved differently. Too aware of their surroundings. Too tactical in how they positioned themselves.

One of Lucas’s team mbers noticed too. A guy nad Frost, military background, sharp instincts. "Sir, so of these refugees have combat training. Look at how they scan the area. That’s not civilian behavior."

"Maybe they’re forr military," Lucas suggested. "Lots of veterans end up in frontier settlents."

"Maybe."

But Frost was right. Lucas watched more carefully as the next group ca through, noticed subtle things. The way certain individuals kept their hands near concealed carry positions. The way they moved in groups that maintained overlapping fields of vision. The way they communicated with minimal verbal language.

These weren’t refugees. Or at least, not just refugees.

Lucas activated his comm. "Watch Command, this is Team Lucas. Flagging potential concerns with refugee population. So individuals showing tactical awareness inconsistent with civilian background. Might be nothing but wanted you aware."

"Understood," Sophie replied. "Continue operations. We’re monitoring."

Lucas’s team continued security operations, but his instincts were itching now. Sothing about this contract felt wrong. Not dangerous-wrong. Just wrong. Like pieces that should fit weren’t quite aligning properly.

He watched the refugees disappear into station processing, noticed how certain groups stayed together even when authorities tried separating them for docuntation, and filed that information away for later analysis.

---

[Location: Research Station Sigma-Four]

[Temp: 15°C]

[Status: Life Support Maintenance in Progress]

Kelvin stood in front of the biggest piece of engineering nonsense he’d seen in months.

The life support system at Research Station Sigma-Four was sprawling, complex, and absolutely fascinating from a technical perspective. It also made no sense for a station this size. The equipnt could support maybe five hundred people with redundancies and fail-safes that would make military installations jealous.

Sigma-Four’s staff population was listed as forty-three.

"This is the primary oxygen generation system," his guide said. Young woman, technical background based on how she talked. "It’s been showing irregular pressure readings for the past week. We think there’s a leak in the carbon dioxide scrubbers."

Kelvin examined the system, his technopathy reaching into its circuits and processors. Information flooded back—power consumption rates, cycle tis, maintenance logs. Everything functioning perfectly. No leaks. No irregularities.

"Your diagnostics are clean," Kelvin said. "I’m not detecting any problems."

"But the pressure readings—"

"Are false positives. Your sensors need recalibration, not your scrubbers."

The guide looked relieved. "So it’s an easy fix?"

"Should be." Kelvin moved deeper into the facility, following the life support network. His team spread out with him, each person handling different sections of the system. They were streaming, of course, though Kelvin suspected most viewers found infrastructure maintenance deeply boring.

He reached the containnt section, and sothing made him pause.

The life support system extended into areas that weren’t on the station’s public layout. Sections that should have been storage or unused space based on the schematic he’d reviewed during transit. But power consumption readings showed active environntal controls, temperature regulation, air circulation.

Hidden rooms. Or at least, rooms the station wasn’t advertising.

Kelvin’s technopathy pushed deeper, accessing systems that weren’t ant to be accessible remotely. Security protocols tried blocking him, which just made him more curious. He’d broken military-grade firewalls before. Research station security was child’s play.

The data that ca back made his blood run cold.

Environntal controls configured for biological containnt. Temperature settings matching optimal growth conditions for organic samples. Air filters designed to prevent microscopic particle escape. Pressure systems maintaining positive and negative zones depending on containnt level.

This wasn’t life support maintenance. This was containnt facility infrastructure.

"Watch Command," Kelvin said quietly, moving away from his guide. "This is Team Kelvin. We have a problem. This station isn’t what the briefing suggested. The life support system I’m looking at is configured for biological research. High-level stuff. The kind that requires serious containnt protocols."

"Are you certain?" Sophie’s voice carried new tension.

"Completely certain. I’m looking at the actual system specs right now through my technopathy." Kelvin examined more data, his enhanced perception letting him process information faster than normal humans could read. "Power consumption is off too. They’re using way more energy than a station this size should need. Sothing else is running here. Sothing big that requires serious juice."

Static for a mont. Then Sophie again: "Team Kelvin, maintain your position. Do not alert station personnel to your concerns. We’re looking into this."

Kelvin acknowledged, trying to keep his expression neutral. His guide was watching him, and the last thing he needed was to spook potential hostiles.

But his mind was racing. Life support systems configured for containnt. Power consumption suggesting large-scale operations. A research station in the middle of nowhere that hired Eclipse to do basic maintenance.

Sothing was very, very wrong.

---

[Location: Eclipse Headquarters - Watch Command]

[Temp: 22°C]

[Status: All Teams Deployed]

Sophie stared at the tactical display showing all five team positions across the eastern sector. Sam stood beside her, pulling up contract details on multiple screens simultaneously.

"Run the client information," Sophie said. "All five contracts. I want to see who hired us."

Sam’s fingers moved across his tablet. Data populated the screens. "Team Noah’s contract ca through a dical consortium called Frontier Health Solutions. Team Diana’s mining rescue was posted by New Horizon Excavations. Team Lila’s evacuation request ca from Settlent Echo-Seven’s local governnt. Team Lucas’s refugee transport was organized by Humanitarian Relief Network. Team Kelvin’s maintenance contract was filed by Sigma Research Group."

"Cross-reference paynt processing."

"On it." Sam worked for another minute, his expression growing more concerned. "Paynt originated from different accounts, different financial institutions, different planets. But..." He pulled up another layer of data. "All five paynts were processed through the sa interdiary clearinghouse. A company called ridian Services."

"What’s ridian Services?"

"Financial managent firm. Handles transaction processing for clients who want anonymity or complexity in their paynt structures. It’s legal but commonly used by people who don’t want direct paper trails."

Sophie felt cold settling in her stomach. "So all five contracts, despite appearing completely different and coming from different clients, are actually being paid by the sa source."

"It’s possible they’re using ridian for legitimate reasons," Sam said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

"Team Lila reported unusual scarring on evacuees. Team Lucas flagged tactical awareness in refugees. Team Kelvin just discovered his ’research station’ has containnt-level life support systems." Sophie looked at the tactical display again, at five teams scattered across the eastern sector, each one dealing with contracts that had seed routine until details started surfacing. "Sam, we need to assu the worst here. These aren’t random contracts. This is coordinated."

"You think soone targeted us specifically?"

"I think soone hired Eclipse for five different jobs, made them look legitimate and separate, and we walked right into it because we were too focused on building reputation through streaming."

Sam was already pulling up more data. "If that’s true, then what’s the actual mission? What are we really doing out there?"

Sophie didn’t answer. She was watching the screens, watching her teams operate in five different locations across the sector, and trying to figure out what they’d just been tricked into transporting, rescuing, or maintaining.

"Get communication with all team leaders," Sophie said. "Priority channel. Now."