Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner-Chapter 363: Day 4 in hell (Storm versus Kruel

Cassandra stood in the center of the killing field, her hands clenched at her sides as concussive energy began building in her core. The air around her started to shimmer with barely contained force, small stones lifting from the ground as her power awakened fully for the first time in a year.

Kruel watched with mild interest, his massive frame relaxed despite being surrounded by the carnage he’d just created. "So," he said conversationally, "before I dissect you to discover what makes you special, do you have anything even mildly amusing to say? Some final words of defiance? A stirring speech about human courage?"

Cassandra’s eyes met his, cold steel against predatory fire. "Yeah. I’ve got something."

She took a deep breath, power coiling in her muscles like a compressed spring.

"You talk too much."

The words had barely left her lips when she unleashed everything she had. The concussive blast erupted from her body like a nuclear shockwave, a sphere of pure kinetic force that turned the air itself into a weapon. The ground beneath Kruel’s feet didn’t just crack—it liquefied, turned to powder by forces that could level city blocks.

Kruel’s expression shifted from mild interest to complete boredom as the blast hit him. His feet slid backward perhaps six inches through the devastated terrain, his shirt and shorts disintegrating under the assault, but his skin remained unmarked.

"Disappointing," he sighed, brushing dust from his now-naked torso. "I was hoping for something more creative."

Cassandra didn’t give him time to finish his critique. She was already moving, using her repulsion field to launch herself thirty feet to the left while charging another attack. The focused shockblast she sent at his head could have punched through starship armor—instead, it just made Kruel turn his head slightly to follow her movement.

"Hit and run tactics," Kruel observed, beginning to walk toward her new position with unhurried steps. "Textbook asymmetric warfare. Though I should mention—running from a superior opponent is generally more effective when you can actually outrun them."

He moved.

One moment he was fifty feet away, the next he was beside her, his fist descending like a falling moon. Cassandra threw herself backward, her repulsion field adding velocity to her desperate escape. Kruel’s punch missed her by inches but created a crater twenty feet deep where she’d been standing.

"Son of a bitch!" Cassandra screamed, slamming her palms together and sending a concentrated burst of air pressure at Kruel’s chest. This was a technique she developed which she named Atmospheric Pounding.

The attack hit with the force of a hurricane compressed into a baseball-sized area, the sound barrier shattering multiple times in rapid succession.

Kruel looked down at his chest where the attack had hit, then back at her. "Are you warming up, or is this your best effort?"

Cassandra’s answer was a ground-rupturing strike that split the earth between them, creating a fissure that ran for half a mile in both directions. She followed it immediately with a charging ram attack, using her concussive force to accelerate herself to superhuman speeds as she aimed for Kruel’s midsection.

He caught her.

His hand closed around her throat like a vise, stopping her momentum instantly. For a moment, she hung there, her feet dangling off the ground, looking into eyes that held the accumulated deaths of forty-three civilizations.

"So far," Kruel said thoughtfully, "there’s nothing extraordinary about you yet."

Cassandra’s response was to grab his wrist with both hands and channel every ounce of her internal rupturing ability directly into his arm. Kruel’s wrist began to visibly vibrate with pressure being infused by her. The concussive force erupted inside his limb, a technique that should have turned bone to powder and muscle to jelly.

Kruel’s grip didn’t even loosen.

"Interesting approach," he mused. "Internal damage. I haven’t encountered that particular application in several star systems."

Then he threw her.

Cassandra became a human missile, flying three hundred feet through the air before slamming into a rocky outcropping. The impact should have killed her instantly, but her enhanced physiology and last-second repulsion field absorbed just enough of the force to leave her merely broken instead of dead.

She pushed herself to her feet, blood streaming from a dozen wounds, her left arm hanging at an unnatural angle. The taste of copper filled her mouth, but her eyes still burned with defiance.

"I swear to defend Earth and her people," she gasped, her voice carrying across the devastated landscape. "To stand as guardian against all threats, to sacrifice my body, my comfort, and if necessary, my life in service to humanity’s continued existence."

Kruel paused in his approach, genuinely intrigued. "A battlefield oath? How wonderfully primitive."

"This I vow," Cassandra continued, raising her good arm as concussive energy began building again, "as a soldier of the Earth Defense Force!"

The shockwave she unleashed was different this time—not aimed at Kruel, but at the ground beneath both of them. The entire battlefield exploded upward, chunks of rock the size of buildings launched into the air by forces that reorganized the local geography. Cassandra used the chaos to disappear into the storm of debris, her repulsion field allowing her to dance between falling stones that could crush tanks.

"Clever," Kruel’s voice echoed from somewhere in the maelstrom. "Using environmental destruction to mask your position. But you’re still bleeding, still breathing, still producing a heartbeat I can track from miles away."

A massive boulder hurtled toward him from the left. Kruel caught it casually, crushed it to powder with one hand, then looked in the direction it had come from. "Found you."

He leaped toward her position, but Cassandra was already gone, her focused shockblast propelling her through the air like a human cannonball. She ricocheted off three different rock formations, each impact redirected by her repulsion field, building speed with every bounce until she was moving faster than sound itself.

The sonic boom of her passage shattered what remained of the local landscape as she aimed herself at Kruel like a living missile. Her strike projection ability focused all of her momentum into a single point, creating an attack that contained the kinetic energy of a falling meteor.

She hit Kruel square in the back.

The impact created a shockwave that could be felt for miles, turning sand to glass and stone to powder. A mushroom cloud of pulverized earth rose into the sky, and for a moment, even Cassandra dared to hope.

Then Kruel’s laughter emerged from the devastation.

"Now that," he said, turning to face her as the dust settled, "was almost worth my attention."

His torso bore a single mark where she’d hit him—not a wound, not even a bruise, just a slight reddening of the skin. But it was something. Proof that she existed, that her power meant anything at all in the face of his overwhelming superiority.

"Unfortunately," Kruel continued, beginning to walk toward her again, "almost isn’t sufficient."

Cassandra tried to run, but her body was failing. Three ribs were broken, her left arm was useless, and she could taste blood with every breath. Her repulsion field flickered weakly, barely strong enough to keep her upright.

She turned to face him, raising her good arm one final time. The concussive blast she managed was pathetic compared to her earlier efforts—a weak pulse that barely disturbed the air between them.

Kruel reached her in two steps, his hand closing around her skull like it had around so many others.

"Disappointing," he said, beginning to apply pressure. "I expected more from humanity’s supposed elite."

The bones in Cassandra’s skull began to creak. Her vision started to tunnel, darkness creeping in from the edges. This was it—the end of the Vanguard Program, the end of humanity’s hopes, the end of everything she’d fought for.

Craboom!!!

Lightning split the clear sky.

Kruel paused, his head tilting as he listened to something that shouldn’t exist. The electric blue bolt moved with purpose, descending toward their position like a living thing, crackling with power that made the air itself sing.

The sound that followed was wrong—not thunder, but something else. Something that carried the promise of violence in its wake. It grew louder—not atmospheric disturbance, but the scream of something massive cutting through the air at impossible speed. It sounded like a falling missile, like an incoming orbital strike, like the roar of an angry god.

But it wasn’t a missile descending from the storm-filled sky.

It was Storm.

The Wyvern hit the ground between them like a bolt of living lightning, its massive wings spread wide, electricity dancing between its scales. The impact crater it created was perfectly circular, the earth around it turned to glass by the electrical discharge.

*Rarrrgghhhhhhhh!!!!!*

Storm’s roar shook the devastated landscape, its challenge echoing across the killing field like a declaration of war. Lightning gathered in its throat, power that could level mountains building for release.

Then Lucas descended from above, electricity crackling around his form as he rode the lightning itself down from the sky. He landed beside Storm with a thunderous impact, his boots hitting the glassified earth as arcs of power danced between his fingers.

Kruel’s grip on Cassandra’s skull loosened as his attention shifted to this new development. His expression changed from bored superiority to genuine interest for the first time since the massacre began.

"Now this," he said, releasing Cassandra to fall to her knees, "is unexpected. You are the soldier that fell Xallon,"

Lucas’s eyes met Kruel’s across the battlefield, electricity still crackling in the air around him. For the first time since his arrival, the three-horn took a step backward.

"Let’s see what you’ve got, boy," Kruel whispered, his voice carrying anticipation that bordered on excitement.

The real fight was about to begin.