Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner-Chapter 256: Broken scrambler

"Yes," Elio murmured, his voice eerily calm now. "Feed me more."

He began absorbing Noah's strikes intentionally, no longer bothering to block. Each impact charged him further until his skin seemed to radiate energy.

Miss Brooks stood up, her concern evident. "He's deliberately taking damage."

"Charging his ultimate technique," Commander Owen realized. "Feedback Detonate." After saying this, he noticed miss Brooks looked at him, then the commander defended himself. "The kids have interesting names,"

Miss Brooks didn't say anything to that. She was instead worried her student was about to throw this match after remarkably coming this far.

Noah sensed the danger too late. Elio had reached critical mass, every hit Noah had landed now pooled into a reservoir of potential force. With unnerving serenity, Elio brought his palms together, compressing the stored energy.

"Thanks for the charge-up," he said softly. "Here's your receipt."

The blast wave caught Noah square in the chest, an explosive release of all accumulated damage. The force lifted him off his feet and slammed him into the containment field, which crackled and warped at the impact point.

[-84 HP]

His chest was burning red as the gear didn't do much to absorb the damage.

"Damn it. Now I have to end this fast before every sees me healing on the spot,'Noah thought.

The crowd gasped. Nobody had hit Noah that hard in the entire tournament. He slid down the containment field, landing in a crouch, one knee and palm on the ground.

Sophie was on her feet now. "Get up, Noah," she whispered. "Use your head, not your emotions."

Noah rose slowly, something shifting in his expression. The anger hadn't disappeared, but now it had crystallized into something more dangerous—cold, focused intent.

"Impressive," Noah said, voice level. "But there's a flaw in your system."

Elio raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You need damage to fuel your ability. But what happens when your opponent simply refuses to lose?"

Noah straightened, chi energy now visibly flowing around his limbs. Not the suspicious dark chi as he'd come to learn that he'd kept hidden, but the conventional white energy that most students could summon to some degree.

"Let's find out."

Noah moved with renewed purpose, no longer simply trying to end the fight quickly. Instead, each movement became calculated, precise. He feinted, drawing Elio into responses that exposed vulnerabilities.

When Elio launched another amplified punch, Noah didn't block it directly. Instead, he redirected the force, using Elio's own momentum to throw him off-balance.

The crowd murmured at the shift in tactics. This was more like the Noah they'd seen in previous rounds—adaptive, strategic.

But there was still something different. An edge. A coldness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Getting serious now?" Elio taunted, but there was uncertainty in his voice.

Noah didn't respond. He simply circled, calculating, waiting.

Elio grew impatient. Without fresh pain to convert, his power boost was fading. He launched forward with a flying knee aimed at Noah's midsection.

This time, Noah was ready. He stepped aside at the last moment, grabbing Elio's extended leg and using the momentum to slam him into the ground.

The impact was brutal. Elio gasped, a flash of genuine pain breaking through his usual pleasure at damage. Before he could convert the force, Noah was on him, pinning the leg at an awkward angle.

"Your ability has another flaw," Noah said quietly, so only Elio could hear. "It works on impact force. Not on sustained pressure."

Noah increased the pressure on the joint—not enough to break it, but enough to send waves of steady pain that Elio couldn't effectively convert.

For the first time, Elio's smile faltered. He bucked and twisted, trying to dislodge Noah's hold, but the position was mechanically sound.

"Get off me!" he snarled, his calm façade cracking.

Noah leaned closer. "I don't have time for this. I have somewhere to be."

With clinical precision, Noah released the leg lock and simultaneously clapped both hands against Elio's ears with controlled force. The sudden pressure change was disorienting, sending Elio's equilibrium into chaos.

Elio's eyes widened, his balance system temporarily scrambled. He tried to stand but staggered sideways, the arena spinning around him.

Noah didn't relent. Before Elio could recover, he delivered a precise strike to the solar plexus—not with rage but with calculated force—driving the air from Elio's lungs.

As Elio gasped for breath, Noah swept his legs, bringing him down hard. The Academy Nine fighter hit the platform with a thud, still disoriented from the ear clap and winded from the body blow.

Noah stood over him, eyes cold. "Stay down."

But Elio wasn't finished. Drawing on reserves of stored energy from earlier in the fight, he lashed out with a desperate kick aimed at Noah's knee.

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The kick connected, sending a jolt of pain up Noah's leg.

[-5 HP]

But instead of retreating, Noah stepped into the pain. In one fluid motion, he grabbed Elio's ankle and twisted, using the momentum to flip Elio onto his stomach. He then drove his knee into the small of Elio's back, pinning him in place while securing an arm lock.

"I said," Noah repeated, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "stay down."

He applied just enough pressure to the joint to make his point clear: further resistance would result in structural damage.

Elio struggled for another moment, then went limp. "I yield," he gasped.

The referee rushed forward. "Winner by submission: Noah Eclipse, Academy Twelve!"

The containment field dissolved as the medical team hurried onto the platform. Noah released Elio immediately, stepping back as the medics checked the Academy Nine student.

The crowd's reaction was mixed—appreciation for Noah's technical finish combined with unease at the cold efficiency with which he'd executed it. This wasn't the same fighter who had won them over with his resilience against Ryker Dawn. This was someone darker, more dangerous.

Noah didn't acknowledge the audience. His eyes went straight to the screen showing the VIP section, locating the Rowes. Elise caught his gaze and raised her champagne flute in mocking salute. Beside her, Marcus Rowe nodded slightly, as if approving a successful experiment.

'I'm coming for you next.'

Noah turned and walked out of the arena without ceremony, ignoring the announcer's attempt to interview him. It was the semifinals and a new thing they did with fighters. The semifinal had merely been an obstacle—a delay in his real mission.

Sophie met him in the corridor, her expression a mix of relief and concern. "That was—"

"Not now," Noah cut her off, already moving toward the exit. "I need to search the VIP section while the Rowes are distracted with the matches."

Sophie grabbed his arm. "We've already checked there. Twice."

"Not during a match. Not when everyone's attention is elsewhere."

"Noah, this could be another trap," Sophie argued, struggling to keep pace with his determined stride. "They're watching you. They're expecting this."

"I don't care."

"You should! Rushing in emotionally is what got Kelvin taken in the first place!"

Noah stopped abruptly, turning to face her. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes—something that made even Sophie, daughter of the Defense Minister, take a step back.

"Kelvin is out there somewhere," Noah said, his voice tightly controlled. "And every minute we wait is another minute they have to—" He couldn't finish the sentence.

Sophie's expression softened marginally. "We'll find him. But not like this. Not by playing directly into their hands again."

"Then what do you suggest?" Noah demanded. "More waiting? More planning while they have our friend? My friend?! If I was the one he wouldn't stop searching, Sophie and you know it!!"

"I suggest you remember who you are," Sophie replied firmly. "The Noah Eclipse I know doesn't let anger cloud his judgment. He analyzes. He adapts to situations. He finds the smart path, not the easy one."

For a moment, Noah's mask slipped, revealing the turmoil beneath—guilt, fear, rage all tangled together. Then, with visible effort, he brought himself back under control.

"Fine," he said finally. "But I'm done playing defense. It's time we set a trap of our own."

Sophie studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Now that sounds like the Noah I know."

Together, they walked away from the arena, leaving behind the roar of the crowd as the next semifinal began. The scrambler appeared to have been broken because why was it showing two students that shouldn't be up against one another.

Lila Rowe versus Adrian Albright.