Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner-Chapter 138 - 1v8

Kelvin exhaled sharply, glancing at the incoming group before turning to Noah. "Alright, genius, what now? We found our hacker and her little Legion of Doom. You got a plan?"

Noah’s expression didn’t waver. "Simple. Do you still have the video files?"

Kelvin blinked. "Yeah... why?"

"Then run."

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Kelvin frowned. "Wait—what?!"

Noah’s eyes remained locked on the group closing in. "You keep forgetting, it’s not just Raven who’s in deep shit with Albright. I am too. And right now, the only leverage we have against that bastard is on that tape."

Kelvin narrowed his eyes. "So what, we’re really doing this? Blackmailing our own Vice Headmaster?"

Noah let out a bitter chuckle. "Commander Albright fired the first shot. Ever since, my life’s been hell. If this gives me a chance to fight back, I’m taking it." He turned to Kelvin. "Now go. I can’t risk the only person who understands all this tech getting caught."

Kelvin hesitated. He counted the figures in the distance. "You’re not planning on taking them all on, are you?"

Noah smirked. "What? Me? Nah. I’m not crazy."

That was a lie.

Kelvin shook his head. "Damn it, Noah. Be careful. Meet me back at homeroom in thirty minutes." He took a step back, then paused. "If you’re not there..."

Noah flashed a grin. "Then I guess you better come save my ass."

Kelvin muttered a curse before turning and sprinting away, leaving Noah standing alone—ready to face whatever came next.

Noah locked eyes with the masked figures as they came to a halt about eight feet in front of him. He didn’t recognize them—not yet—but the way they carried themselves made it clear. They weren’t here for small talk.

He tilted his head slightly. "Can I help you guys with something?"

One of them, the tallest of the bunch, stepped forward. "Yeah. You can come with us."

Noah exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Afraid that’s not gonna happen."

The masked guy let out a low chuckle. "Listen, kid. We know who you are. Campus celeb, right? Sophie Reign’s boyfriend. The Noah Eclipse. The so-called ’Zombie Boy’ who survived a Category 3 on his first expedition. Hell, you even made it through Cannadah." The guy leaned in slightly. "But none of that means a damn thing to us."

Noah chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Big words for guys too scared to show their faces."

Another one spoke, voice muffled behind their mask. "The mask? That’s for your sake. If you see our faces, we’d have to put you down. Permanently."

Noah sighed dramatically. "You know, the Harbinger I saw on Cannadah had a better chance of scaring me than you guys." He spread his arms. "So come on, then."

His lips curled into a grin.

"Bring it."

Noah sized them up. These weren’t just any students—they were Year 3s. Practically adults, bigger, stronger, and trained for anything. And in a school where everyone had powers, that made them even more dangerous.

The problem? According to every official record, Noah had no combat powers.

Perfect Echo was gone.

Which meant, if he wanted to keep his secret safe, he’d have to fight the old-fashioned way. No Void Blink. No stats boosts. Just fists, legs, and whatever tricks he could pull off with his brain.

Eight on one? Yeah, that was about as unfair as it got.

But was he worried?

Not really.

He had no proof he could take them—no logical reason to believe he could win this fight. But running? That wasn’t an option. Discover more stories at novelbuddy

He’d been dying to punch someone connected to Albright for weeks now.

Adrian—Albright’s son—had turned out to be a decent guy, keeping to his own lane. That meant his options were limited.

So these masked lackeys?

They were about to feel the full weight of Noah Eclipse’s frustration.

Noah stood his ground, feet planted firmly against the concrete, as the tallest of the masked group gave the order.

"Get him."

A broad-shouldered guy—easily six feet and built like a linebacker—snarled and lunged forward. No powers yet, just fists.

Noah exhaled through his nose, body relaxing as his instincts took over. Unlike the Harbinger he had fought before, there were no glowing white precursors, no lethal intents flashing in his vision. But he didn’t need them.

This guy was slow.

Slower than the creatures he had fought on Cannadah. Slower than the feral scavengers in the slums where he had grown up.

And that meant one thing.

He could take him apart.

The masked brute swung a right hook, clearly expecting Noah to be standing there like an idiot. But Noah had already slipped sideways, feeling the wind of the punch pass inches from his nose.

His turn.

Noah’s fist shot up like a bullet, driving into the guy’s ribs just under his arm. A sharp grunt of pain followed. Noah didn’t stop—he pressed forward, stepping into the taller fighter’s space and slamming an elbow straight into his solar plexus.

The guy staggered, wheezing.

"You—"

Noah didn’t let him finish.

He pivoted, shifting his weight onto his back foot, and drove a vicious front kick straight into the masked goon’s knee. The joint bent awkwardly, and the guy let out a choked yell as he collapsed onto it.

Noah didn’t care.

He was already moving.

A hammer fist to the back of the guy’s neck. A knee to his gut. Another punch—this time, aimed straight for the jaw.

The brute hit the ground. Hard.

The other Year 3s froze for a second.

Noah rolled his shoulders.

"Who’s next?"

No one spoke.

But they weren’t retreating either.

Noah could feel the tension in the air, the way they shifted their footing. They were waiting for their leader’s signal.

Sure enough, the tallest one stepped forward.

"Enough games," he muttered. "You think one win means anything?"

He motioned to another one of his men.

This time, two came at Noah at once.

He exhaled slowly.

’Two’s trickier.’

They split, one moving for his left, the other for his right.

One feinted with a low punch. The other came in high with a swinging elbow.

Noah moved before either landed. He ducked, letting the high elbow cut through the air above him, while at the same time sweeping his leg outward. His foot slammed into the ankle of the guy throwing the punch, knocking his balance off.

Before the guy could recover, Noah shot up like a spring, landing a brutal uppercut straight under the mask.

The impact was satisfying.

The guy went down, his body jerking as he hit the pavement.

But the second one—he was still standing.

Noah turned, raising his arms just as a fist crashed into his forearm. A sharp sting ran up his arm, but he ignored it, shoving the guy’s arm away and countering with a straight jab to the throat.

A choked gasp.

The masked goon stumbled back, clutching his neck.

Noah was already moving again.

He stepped forward, faked a left hook, then spun—driving his elbow into the side of the guy’s head.

The crack of bone against bone echoed.

Another one down. The Barracks Taught Him Well

Noah let out a slow breath, shaking his hands out.

He hadn’t taken a single hit yet.

That was good. He couldn’t afford to.

This wasn’t just some brawl—this was about endurance. The moment they realized he was fighting above what was expected of a powerless Year 1, everything would change.

’Keep it clean. No system abilities. No Void Blink. No cheat skills.’

The key to winning this fight wasn’t just strength—it was knowing when to strike, where to strike, and how to break them down piece by piece.

Growing up in the barracks, he had learned early. Fights weren’t about being the strongest. They were about lasting.

And he’d been waiting for this moment.

Round Two

"Tch."

The leader clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Stop screwing around. Take him down!"

This time, three rushed in at once.

It was a bad situation.

But not impossible.

Noah took a single step back, measuring their movements.

One had his hands up in a boxer’s stance. The second was already mid-air, aiming for a flying knee. The third was holding back, waiting for an opening.

’First one’s my priority.’

Noah met the flying knee head-on—sidestepping at the last second and grabbing the attacker mid-air. Using his own momentum against him, Noah twisted, hurling him toward the boxer.

The two crashed together, sprawling onto the ground.

That left number three.

Noah saw the incoming fist and ducked, feeling it rush past his ear. His counter was immediate—grabbing the guy’s wrist and twisting hard. The masked goon yelped, his body forced sideways.

Noah capitalized, driving his knee into his ribs.

Once. Twice.

The body crumpled.

The other two had barely scrambled up when Noah lunged, closing the distance.

A right hook to the first.

A roundhouse kick to the second.

The masked figures hit the pavement, groaning.

Four left standing.

Noah straightened, rolling his neck.

"So, are we done, or do I have to keep embarrassing you?"

The leader sighed, shaking his head.

"You’re really making us work for this, huh?"

Noah smirked. "I aim to please."

Then—

BANG!

The pavement cracked as something slammed into it next to Noah’s foot.

A crater.

’Shit.’

One of them had finally used their ability.

The masked figure flexed his fingers. "No more holding back."

Noah exhaled.

This was what he had been trying to avoid.

’If I keep this up, I’m going to have to use my system.’

But even as he thought that—his hands clenched into fists.

Maybe… just maybe…

He wouldn’t mind showing them just how out of their depth they really were.