Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner-Chapter 153: Eclipse vs...

Serena and Damien stood facing each other, breathing hard, their bodies aching from the relentless onslaught. The crowd watched in awed silence, knowing the next exchange would decide it all.

Then—they moved.

Serena shot forward first, blood tendrils lashing out like whips, carving through the air with deadly precision.

Damien’s roots surged in response, forming twisting, coiling barriers that blocked, deflected, and countered in an instant.

But this time, neither relied solely on their abilities.

Serena ducked low, spun, and delivered a sharp roundhouse kick aimed at Damien’s ribs.

He twisted his body, barely avoiding the impact, then retaliated with a palm strike, his hand coated in hardened bark.

The blow connected, sending Serena skidding backward, but she used the momentum to whip her blood tendrils out like spears, forcing Damien to leap aside.

Mid-air, Damien flicked his wrist.

A vine shot out, anchoring him to the ground, and he launched himself back toward Serena, fist cocked back.

Serena saw it coming.

She sidestepped, her fingers forming a crimson javelin in an instant.

’Now.’

She thrust it forward—straight at Damien’s chest.

But Damien was just as fast.

A single thorn, small but glistening with poison, shot from his sleeve like a bullet.

Serena’s javelin struck home first.

The sharp tip pierced into Damien’s chest, sending him staggering back, blood spraying across the ground.

But his thorn had already connected—embedding itself in Serena’s shoulder.

Her body locked up instantly.

’Damn it… paralysis.’

Damien stumbled, his vision blurring, before crashing backward against the barrier.

Serena tried to take a step forward.

Her legs wouldn’t move.

Her body collapsed onto the ground.

The entire crowd of students went still.

Then—

[Five.]

[Four.]

[Three.]

[Two.]

[One.]

[Match Over.]

Neither got up.

A draw.

The crowd of students erupted but very quickly the hype died down. Healers rushed to attend to the yes 2 fighters.

As soon as the countdown ended, a team of healers in white coats rushed into the ring, moving swiftly to attend to Damien and Serena. The two fighters lay on the ground, both barely conscious but still breathing.

One healer immediately placed a glowing hand on Damien’s chest wound, the deep gash sealing itself little by little. Another knelt beside Serena, injecting a fast-acting antidote into her arm to neutralize the paralysis running through her bloodstream.

Noah watched as they were carefully helped up, their battle-worn bodies struggling but refusing to show weakness. These were clearly experienced fighters. Their movements, their instincts, their strategies—this was how good humans could be.

And yet—

Noah exhaled slowly, his hands in his pockets.

’Against Harbingers, they’re just cannon fodder.’

No matter how skilled, how talented, how refined human fighters were, the moment they faced one of them—the outcome was almost always the same. It was a massacre.

His gaze flickered as Damien and Serena were led away for further treatment, the respect in the crowd’s eyes clear. They had fought like warriors.

But warriors weren’t enough.

The murmurs and cheers around him grew louder as the remaining spectators turned their full attention to the third ring.

The Year 3 battle had begun.

Noah shifted his stance, his focus now on Roland Pike versus Andreis Novak.

This was where the real difference would show.

Roland Pike was on one knee, his breath heavy, sweat dripping from his brow. Around him, dozens of razor-thin paper sheets hovered in the air—some fluttering, others locked in precise formations like shields, spikes, and blades. His once-pristine uniform was cut and torn, his left sleeve completely missing, exposing a bleeding gash on his arm.

Ten meters away, Andreis Novak stood his ground. His right leg trembled slightly, a deep gash along his ribs staining his uniform red. His chest rose and fell rapidly, exhaustion evident—but the grin on his face never wavered.

"You know," Andreis panted, rolling his shoulders, "for a guy who fights with arts and crafts, you’re surprisingly hard to kill."

Roland smirked, wiping a streak of blood from his lip. "And you’re fast… but not fast enough."

A hush fell over the crowd. The tension was palpable. The next exchange could decide everything.

Andreis vanished in a burst of wind and dust.

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A blur of motion zigzagged across the ring, darting unpredictably as he closed the distance. Roland’s papers shifted instantly, forming barriers and launching sharpened projectiles, but Andreis moved too fast. His sheer speed made him a ghost, impossible to pin down.

’He’s adapting,’ Andreis realized as he narrowly avoided a flying paper spear. ’I can’t keep dodging forever. My speed only works if I can actually hit him.’

He feinted left—then vanished completely.

A sharp CRACK echoed through the ring

Andreis had rebounded off the ring’s wall, using it as a slingshot to accelerate toward Roland’s blind spot. The sheer force behind his movement made the ground tremble as he rocketed forward, his fist cocked back for a finishing blow—

But Roland didn’t move.

He didn’t even turn to face him.

Instead, his papers quivered.

Then, all at once, they exploded outward.

Roland whispered, "Checkmate."

A hidden lattice of micro-thin paper fibers, already spread across the ring, suddenly tightened.

The moment Andreis breached Roland’s defense, his body clipped one of the near-invisible strands.

A thin red line appeared across his cheek.

Then another on his shoulder.

Then—his momentum halted abruptly.

Andreis stumbled mid-air, his own speed betraying him as the invisible threads coiled and sliced into his skin.

His eyes widened. "Wha—?!"

Roland finally turned, a grim smile tugging at his lips. "You’ve been running through my trap the whole time."

With a flick of his fingers, the threads constricted.

Andreis gritted his teeth, muscles tensing as he struggled. If he stopped moving, he lost. But if he kept going, he’d be shredded apart.

"No," Andreis growled. "Not… happening!"

A faint blue glow erupted from his feet.

Roland’s eyes narrowed.

The air warped around Andreis. His speed ability shifted—not into movement, but into vibration.

The paper threads shuddered.

Then—SNAP.

BOOM.

Andreis disappeared.

Roland barely had time to react before Andreis reappeared right in front of him, fist already in motion.

Roland’s arms snapped up—paper armor forming in an instant.

IMPACT.

A shockwave erupted as Andreis’ punch connected. The ring floor cracked beneath their feet.

Roland was sent flying, crashing into the barrier with a thunderous boom. His paper armor shattered on impact, fragments raining down like torn feathers.

The entire crowd gasped.

A moment of silence followed.

Roland tried to stand. His fingers twitched, his breath ragged. But his legs wouldn’t move.

His vision blurred. His body was spent.

Andreis, still standing, staggered but refused to fall. Blood trickled down his temple as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

The countdown began.

5… 4… 3…

Roland’s fingers curled into a fist. He tried to push himself up.

2… 1…

His body failed him.

0.

The match was over.

The crowd erupted. Some cheered, some groaned in disappointment, but all were in awe of the insane battle they had just witnessed.

Andreis, still catching his breath, looked down at Roland. For a long moment, he simply stood there.

Then, he extended a hand.

"You almost had me," he admitted, a tired smirk tugging at his lips.

Roland scoffed, staring at the offered hand before sighing. He reached out, and Andreis pulled him up.

Roland’s grin was weak but sharp. "Next time, I won’t almost win."

Andreis chuckled. "Then I’ll just be faster by then."

They clasped hands—a warrior’s respect.

The battle was over.

But the war for the interschool tournament had only just begun.

Noah, Lucas, and Sophie stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the ring as the echoes of the previous battle still lingered in the air. The sight of Roland and Andreis pushing each other to their absolute limits had sent a clear message—qualifying wouldn’t be easy.

Everyone wanted to represent. Everyone wanted to make a name for themselves.

Lucas crossed his arms, exhaling sharply. He wasn’t cocky, but he understood the weight of his position. Lucas Grey—the number one student. No matter who he faced, it was going to be a challenge. Not because they were better, but because they knew exactly who he was. His reputation alone meant that every opponent would come at him with everything they had.

Sophie, standing beside him, said nothing. She remained quiet, her expression unreadable as the randomizer on the massive screen above the arena lit up, preparing to select the next set of fighters.

Noah, however, found his mind racing.

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The first-year students were divided into three classes—1A, 1B, and 1C. He could be pit against anyone.

A tense silence fell over the crowd as the randomizer whirred to life. Names flashed rapidly on the screen in a blur of letters and colors.

The audience leaned forward in anticipation.

Then, with a loud ding, the first name appeared.

Noah Eclipse vs…