Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner - Chapter 472

Chapter 472: Genocide

A transport cart moved through the Ark’s interior corridors with the kind of efficiency that came from decades of military optimization. Noah sat beside Sophie, watching the massive station’s inner workings pass by through the cart’s transparent panels.

The corridors were wide enough to accommodate heavy equipment, their walls lined with directional markers and safety protocols in multiple languages. Personnel moved in organized streams—some in combat gear heading to training facilities, others in technical uniforms carrying tablets and equipment cases, a few in formal dress similar to what Team 7 wore.

“Sector 7-B, Administrative Wing,” the cart’s automated system announced. “Estimated arrival at tribunal chamber: four minutes.”

Kelvin leaned forward, trying to catch glimpses of everything they passed. “It’s like a city. An actual city floating in space.”

“Three hundred thousand people,” Brooks said from her position at the front of the cart. “That’s larger than most colonial settlements. The Ark maintains its own agriculture, manufacturing, medical facilities—everything needed to sustain operations indefinitely.”

They passed a massive observation window that looked out onto Earth below. The planet hung against the void like a blue marble, clouds swirling in patterns that had existed long before humanity had learned to leave its surface.

Diana stared at it for a moment. “Hard to believe everything we’ve been through happened down there somewhere.”

“And on a dozen other worlds,” Sophie added quietly.

The cart took a turn into a different section, and the atmosphere changed immediately. The corridors here were quieter, more refined. The walls were still metal and functional, but the lighting was warmer, the spaces designed more for deliberation than combat. This was where decisions got made—the administrative heart of humanity’s war machine.

They passed other personnel in formal uniforms, most of them carrying the kind of rigid posture that came from knowing their work affected millions of lives. A few glanced at the cart as it passed, their expressions ranging from curious to carefully neutral.

“Sector 7-A, Command Administration,” the automated voice announced. “Arrival in ninety seconds.”

Brooks turned to face them. “When we get there, the other commanders will meet us before we enter. They’ll have final instructions. Listen carefully and follow exactly what they say.”

The cart began slowing as it approached their destination. Through the transparent panels, Noah could see a wide plaza-like area where several corridors converged. Personnel moved through the space with purpose, some entering what looked like conference rooms, others waiting in designated areas.

And standing near one of those designated areas, wearing dress uniforms that looked uncomfortably formal, were Commanders Mei Lein, Cassandra Beaumont, and Viktor Volkov.

The cart came to a smooth stop, and the doors slid open with a soft hiss.

“This is it,” Brooks said. “Remember—you’re soldiers. Act like it.”

They filed out of the cart in formation, boots hitting the deck plating with synchronized precision. The plaza was larger than it had appeared through the panels, easily capable of holding hundreds of people. Holographic displays on the walls showed deployment schedules, mission briefings, and what looked like real-time tactical updates from various fronts.

Mei spotted them first and moved forward, her expression carefully controlled. “On time. Good.”

Cassandra and Volkov joined her, forming a small circle that excluded the foot traffic moving through the plaza. Other personnel gave them space, either out of respect or recognition that something official was happening.

“How are you holding up?” Cassandra asked, directing the question at all of them but her gaze lingering on Noah.

“We’re ready,” Noah replied, though his hand unconsciously moved to his pocket where the coin rested.

“No, you’re not,” Volkov said bluntly. “But you’re as ready as you’re going to be.”

Mei pulled out a tablet, consulting notes she’d probably reviewed a hundred times already. “Last-minute reminders. First, maintain military bearing at all times. The tribunal will be looking for any sign of disrespect or insubordination. Second, answer only what’s asked. Don’t volunteer information, don’t speculate, don’t try to predict where questions are leading.”

“Third,” Cassandra added, “if you can’t prove something happened, don’t claim it as fact. The tribunal has heard thousands of testimony sessions. They can tell the difference between witnessed events and theories.”

Brooks moved closer to the group. “They’re going to push hard on Lucas’s disappearance and the events on Earth. Those are the incidents where your story sounds most implausible. Stay consistent with what you told us, but be prepared for aggressive questioning.”

“What about Captain Seraleth’s testimony?” Sophie asked. “And the Queen of Lilivil?”

“Already submitted to the tribunal,” Mei confirmed. “They’ve reviewed it. Whether they believe it is another matter.”

Volkov’s jaw tightened. “The biggest problem is Lilivil itself. A planet doesn’t just explode. The tribunal is going to want explanations for that destruction, and ‘we don’t know what happened’ isn’t going to satisfy them.”

Kelvin shifted his weight nervously. “What if they ask about things we genuinely can’t explain?”

“Be honest about the limits of your knowledge,” Cassandra said. “But understand that every ‘I don’t know’ weakens your overall credibility.”

Diana had been quiet, but now she spoke up. “What’s our worst-case scenario here?”

The commanders exchanged glances, and it was Mei who answered. “Court-martial for desertion. Dishonorable discharge. Possible imprisonment depending on how they classify your unauthorized operations.” She paused. “But that’s if they believe you acted with malicious intent. If they believe you were trying to help, even if you violated protocols, the consequences will be less severe.”

“Best case?” Noah asked.

“Reprimand, probationary period, possible reassignment,” Volkov said. “And that’s only if we can convince them the threat you faced was real and immediate enough to justify your actions.”

A tone chimed from Cassandra’s tablet. She checked it and nodded. “The tribunal is ready for us.”

The plaza seemed to grow quieter, though the foot traffic continued around them. Noah felt his heart rate increase, that familiar pre-combat spike of adrenaline that came before facing something dangerous.

“Remember,” Brooks said one last time, “you’re fighting for your military careers in there. Treat it like combat. Stay sharp, stay focused, and don’t give them ammunition to use against you.”

They formed up again, commanders taking positions around Team 7 like an honor guard. Together, they walked toward the entrance to the tribunal chamber—a set of heavy doors bearing the Earth Defense Force crest in polished metal.

Two guards stood at attention on either side. They saluted as the group approached, then moved to open the doors.

The chamber beyond was exactly as described in the reports Noah had read—austere, intimidating, designed to make anyone entering feel the full weight of military authority. The polished metal floors reflected overhead lighting that eliminated shadows. Three elevated seats dominated the far end, currently empty but positioned to place whoever sat there above everyone else in the room.

And covering the entire wall behind those seats, the Earth Defense Force crest loomed large enough to serve as a constant reminder of what they all supposedly served.

Rows of seats lined both sides of the chamber, most already occupied by personnel Noah didn’t recognize. He caught glimpses of rank insignia that placed many of them among the EDF’s senior leadership—colonels, generals, admirals who’d commanded forces in battles across human space.

They were the gallery, here to observe and report back to their respective commands. Every decision made in this room would ripple through the military structure, setting precedents and influencing how similar cases would be handled in the future.

“Defense positions,” Mei said quietly, gesturing to a table on the left side of the chamber.

The commanders moved to take their seats at the defense table, while Team 7 stood in a line before it, facing the three empty seats that would soon hold their judges. The gallery watched in silence, dozens of eyes evaluating, measuring, forming opinions before a single word had been spoken.

A side door opened, and three figures entered in formation.

Admiral Helena Kross led, her silver hair pulled back in that regulation style that probably predated most people in the room. The scars on her hands were visible even from a distance, testament to someone who’d earned authority through blood rather than politics.

General Roman Thorne followed, his dark skin weathered by years on frontier worlds where death came measured in daily counts. The weariness in his eyes suggested someone who’d sent too many soldiers to die and knew he’d send more.

Colonel Elizabeth Ashford came last, younger than her colleagues but carrying that rigid discipline that came from climbing ranks by following every regulation perfectly. Her military law specialty meant she knew where every procedural trap was hidden.

They took their elevated seats without preamble, the movement synchronized in a way that spoke of hundreds of similar proceedings. The chamber fell completely silent as Admiral Kross activated the recording systems.

“This tribunal is convened under Article 12, Section 4 of the Earth Defense Force Military Code,” her voice carried easily through the acoustically designed space. “The date is October 18th, 2076, Standard Earth Calendar. Let the record show the presence of the accused: Recruit Noah Eclipse, Recruit Sophie Reign, Recruit Kelvin Pithon, and Recruit Diana Frost.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping across them with the kind of attention that missed nothing.

“You stand accused of desertion, unauthorized military operations, and gross negligence resulting in diplomatic complications with allied powers. The specific charges include: abandoning your posts at Vanguard Station without proper authorization, conducting military operations on sovereign territory without EDF approval, and engaging in combat operations that resulted in significant collateral damage.”

Admiral Kross leaned forward slightly. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, Admiral,” Noah said first, his voice steady.

“Not guilty,” Sophie added.

“Not guilty,” Kelvin said.

“Not guilty,” Diana finished.

General Thorne opened a file on his tablet. “Let’s begin with the initial incident. August 29th, you departed Vanguard Station following Recruit Lucas Grey. Commander Lein, your report states that Grey received communication from his family requesting his immediate return to Raiju Prime. Is that correct?”

Mei stood from the defense table. “Yes, General. Grey family sovereignty superseded our jurisdiction in family matters. We authorized his departure.”

“And the rest of Team 7?” Colonel Ashford asked. “They followed him without authorization?”

“They departed approximately four hours after Grey,” Cassandra confirmed, also standing. “We discovered their absence during routine personnel checks.”

Admiral Kross’s expression could have frozen atmosphere. “Four hours. In those four hours, four recruits managed to requisition transportation, leave a military installation, and disappear into Grey territory. How?”

Volkov rose to address the tribunal. “The Vanguard Initiative operates with more autonomy than standard military units, Admiral. These recruits are trained for independent operations. A certain degree of self-directed action is built into the program’s structure.”

“Autonomy is not abandonment of duty,” General Thorne replied. “Commander Volkov, these weren’t ordinary recruits conducting a routine exercise. These were your most valuable assets departing for an undefined mission without any oversight or authorization.”

The questioning continued, each member of the tribunal taking turns dissecting the timeline, the decisions, the lack of communication. The commanders provided answers, but Noah could see the trap forming—every explanation made their absence sound more deliberate, more like desertion than emergency response.

“Let’s discuss what you actually did during those five weeks,” Colonel Ashford said, consulting her files. “According to testimony, you traveled to Raiju Prime, conducted an investigation into Grey family politics, allied with the Ares family, traveled to a planet called Lilivil, and eventually conducted military operations on Earth. Does that summary match your activities?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Noah replied.

“That’s quite an itinerary for unauthorized personnel.” Admiral Kross’s tone was dry. “Perhaps you can explain what justified these actions?”

Sophie stepped forward slightly. “Admiral, if I may?”

Kross nodded.

“When we arrived on Raiju Prime, we soon found that Lucas’s father, the Grey family head, had been taken. This wasn’t an isolated incident but part of a pattern stretching back centuries—”

“The Eighth Ancestor,” General Thorne interrupted. “We’ve read the testimony. An individual allegedly responsible for kidnapping original family heads for generations, conducting experiments, maintaining operations across multiple worlds. It’s an impressive conspiracy theory.”

“It’s not theory, General,” Noah said firmly. “We tracked him to Lilivil. Found evidence of his operations, the experiments he conducted on the space elves. Captain Seraleth’s testimony confirms—”

“Captain Seraleth’s testimony confirms that someone conducted experiments on her people over a century ago,” Colonel Ashford corrected. “It doesn’t confirm the existence of an Eighth Ancestor or establish a connection to current events.”

Kelvin raised his hand like he was still in school, then lowered it quickly when Diana gave him a look. “With respect, Colonel, the evidence is circumstantial but consistent. The pattern of disappearances, the facilities we found, the shadow soldiers who attacked—”

“Shadow soldiers,” Admiral Kross repeated. “Beings who can use shadow abilities. Who apparently serve this Eighth Ancestor and can be deployed across multiple worlds without detection.”

The skepticism in her voice was palpable.

Mei stood again. “Admiral, we’ve reviewed the evidence independently. The energy signatures from the Earth incident show multiple ability types used in combat. The attacks on Raiju Prime involved coordinated forces with capabilities beyond normal human parameters. While we can’t prove every claim the recruits have made, the basic facts support their testimony.”

“The basic facts,” General Thorne said slowly, “are that five recruits disappeared for over a month, conducted unauthorized operations, and left a trail of diplomatic complications in their wake. Everything else is interpretation.”

The hearing continued, hours blending together as the tribunal examined every decision, every action, every claim. They played recordings of Seraleth’s testimony, showing holographic projections of her describing the facility on Lilivil, the experiments, the hybrid creatures.

They reviewed the Queen of Lilivil’s statement, her careful diplomatic language confirming that humans had helped save her people but leaving strategic ambiguities about what exactly had threatened them.

Through it all, Team 7 stood and answered questions, maintaining military bearing even as exhaustion began to show in small ways—Sophie’s hand finding Noah’s briefly before separating, Kelvin’s fingers tapping against his leg in that nervous pattern, Diana’s jaw clenching when certain questions hit too close.

Finally, as the day wore toward evening station time, Admiral Kross called for a brief recess. “We’ll resume in thirty minutes. The tribunal needs to discuss certain inconsistencies in the testimony.”

The chamber cleared partially, gallery observers filing out to discuss what they’d witnessed. The commanders gathered around Team 7, their expressions showing the strain of hours spent defending actions that defied easy explanation.

“You’re doing well,” Cassandra said quietly. “Better than I expected.”

“They don’t believe us,” Diana observed. “About Arthur, about the kidnappings, about any of it.”

“They’re considering it,” Mei corrected. “That’s different from outright rejection.”

Volkov shook his head. “The problem is Lilivil. Everything else, they might accept as exaggeration or misunderstanding. But a planet exploding? That requires explanation.”

Noah felt the weight of that statement. They all knew what had actually happened on Lilivil, but how could they explain Gigarose? A chaos entity that had hijacked his system and casually destroyed a living planet? It sounded insane even thinking about it.

“We tell them we don’t know,” Noah said finally. “We witnessed the destruction, but we don’t understand what caused it.”

“That’s going to weaken everything else,” Brooks warned.

“Better than lying,” Sophie replied. “They’ll know if we make something up.”

The thirty minutes passed too quickly. The tribunal members returned to their elevated seats, and the chamber refilled with observers eager to see how this would conclude.

Admiral Kross activated the recording systems again. “We’ve reviewed the testimony regarding events on Lilivil. Captain Seraleth confirmed that recruits from Team 7 were present on her world, that they assisted with evacuating the population, and that shortly after their departure, the planet suffered catastrophic destruction.”

She paused, and Noah felt his stomach drop at the shift in her tone.

“What Captain Seraleth’s testimony doesn’t address is the cause of that destruction. The tribunal has examined energy readings from the region, sensor data from nearby systems, and reports from ships that witnessed the event.”

General Thorne leaned forward. “The destruction of Lilivil released energy signatures consistent with void manipulation. Specifically, the kind of concentrated void energy that we’ve only seen from one source.”

His gaze locked onto Noah.

“You, Recruit Eclipse, are the only documented human with void manipulation abilities at the level required to cause that kind of catastrophic damage.”

The chamber erupted in whispers. Noah felt Sophie’s hand grip his arm, felt Kelvin tense beside him.

“Admiral, that’s—” Cassandra started.

“Let me finish, Commander.” Kross’s voice cut through the noise. “We’re not claiming intentional destruction. But the evidence suggests that whatever happened on Lilivil, it involved void energy. Energy that matches your documented abilities.”

Colonel Ashford pulled up holographic displays showing energy readings, comparative analysis, data that Noah couldn’t fully process through the sudden roar in his ears.

“The tribunal’s preliminary finding,” Ashford continued, “is that Team 7’s presence on Lilivil directly led to the planet’s destruction. Whether through combat operations, experimental ability usage, or some other factor we don’t yet understand, the evidence points to your involvement.”

“That’s not what happened,” Noah said, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent chamber. “We didn’t destroy Lilivil. We were there, yes, but we didn’t—”

“Then explain what did,” Admiral Kross interrupted. “Give us an alternative explanation for how a planet exploded with void energy signatures matching your documented abilities. Explain why this destruction occurred shortly after your arrival. Explain why we should believe this wasn’t the result of unauthorized ability experimentation gone catastrophically wrong.”

Noah opened his mouth, then closed it. How could he explain? That Gigarose had taken control, obliterated the living planet with a single attack? Who would believe that? He could barely understand it himself, and he’d lived through it.

The silence stretched.

“We’re waiting, Recruit Eclipse,” General Thorne said quietly.

Sophie stepped forward. “Admiral, none of us fully understand what happened on Lilivil. But Noah didn’t destroy that planet. He saved two million lives.”

“By your testimony, yes,” Colonel Ashford replied. “But saving some lives doesn’t negate responsibility for the destruction that followed. The evidence is clear—void energy destroyed Lilivil. Recruit Eclipse is the only person present with those capabilities.”

Mei rose from the defense table, her voice urgent. “Admiral, the recruits have been honest about the limits of their knowledge. Not understanding every aspect of what happened doesn’t make them responsible for—”

“Commander Lein, the tribunal appreciates your defense of your recruits. But we have a responsibility to reach conclusions based on evidence, not speculation or emotional investment in the accused.”

Admiral Kross’s expression was grave as she surveyed the chamber, the gallery, the four young soldiers standing before her.

“The tribunal finds preliminary evidence that Team 7’s actions on Lilivil resulted in the planet’s destruction. While intent remains unclear, the facts suggest that unauthorized military operations conducted by these recruits led directly to a catastrophic event that eliminated an entire world.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Noah felt the chamber spin slightly. The tribunal was blaming him for genocide.

And he had no way to prove otherwise.

“The hearing is adjourned until tomorrow,” Admiral Kross said, her voice final. “At which time, this tribunal will deliver its verdict on all charges against Team 7.”

The gavel fell, the sound echoing through the chamber like a gunshot.

Around them, the gallery erupted in conversation. The commanders were on their feet, already planning their defense for tomorrow. But Noah could barely hear them over the rushing in his ears, the realization that everything they’d done—saving the elves, fighting Arthur, trying to stop the Eighth—might all end with him being labeled a planet-killer.

The doors opened, and guards moved to escort them out.

Through the noise and chaos, Noah caught one final glimpse of Admiral Kross watching him from her elevated seat, her expression unreadable but her verdict clear in every line of her posture.

Tomorrow would bring judgment.

And tomorrow, Noah had no idea how to defend himself against the truth that he couldn’t possibly explain.