Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner-Chapter 152: Blood vs Root

As the barrier lowered, Erica stepped out of the ring, rolling her shoulders, the exhaustion settling in.

Follow curr𝒆nt nov𝒆ls on fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com.

Then—cheers erupted.

Her classmates from 1C rushed forward, grinning and whooping, some slapping her back, others pumping fists in the air.

"Holy shit, Erica, you actually won!"

"That was insane! You dried him up like an old sponge!"

"1C REPRESENT!"

Even a few students from 1B and 1D murmured in appreciation. A victory from 1C was unheard of.

And yet—she had done it.

Among the crowd, her closest friends gathered around.

A girl with short, fiery red hair—Melissa—grinned and threw an arm around her shoulders. "That was sick, Erica! You wrecked him!"

Beside her, a tall, lanky boy with glasses—Reggie—adjusted his frames, smirking. "I bet none of them thought a 1C student would even make it past the first round."

Erica exhaled, her lips twitching into a smirk. "Guess they’ll have to rethink their rankings."

A few teachers from the faculty watched with curious expressions, whispering among themselves.

Even students from 1A and 1B—usually the top contenders—were giving her looks of respect, some grudging, others intrigued.

She could see Nathan on the other side, drinking water while healers tended to him.

Their eyes met briefly.

Nathan gave her a nod—a silent acknowledgment.

Erica smirked and nodded back. No hard feelings.

Across the hall, Noah watched quietly, arms crossed.

’Five points for Erica.Submission win,’

He mentally catalogued it. The ranking system worked as follows:

5 points – Submission or Knockout

3 points – Dominant Win

1 point – Draw

Erica now had 5 points to her name.

"Damn," Lucas muttered, rubbing his chin. "Didn’t think anyone from 1C had it in them. But that was—" He exhaled. "That was a fight."

Sophie crossed her arms, watching Erica laugh with her classmates. "She was really good," she admitted.

Noah didn’t respond immediately.

His gaze shifted back to the rings.

Now, everyone’s focus was elsewhere.

In the second ring, Damien Holt and Serena Vaughn were locked in a fierce battle.

Damien, a chlorokinetic, had a potted plant inside the enclosure, roots stretching outward, twisting like living ropes.

Serena, a haemokinetic, had thin, red whips lashing from her fingertips—streams of her own blood weaponized into lethal tendrils.

The two were moving fast, dodging and countering, plant life and blood slicing through the air in a deadly dance.

The crowd shifted, attention now fixed on the year 2 fight.

Noah exhaled, mind already analyzing.

’This one’s going to be brutal.’

The barrier kept both combatants in year 2 locked in as the match continued, making sure both Damien Holt and Serena Vaughn remained in a battlefield of their own.

Damien stood in the center, one hand resting lightly on his plant. The roots had already started to stretch outward, slithering across the ground like living veins.

Serena, on the other hand, had taken a stance a few meters away, her hands already glowing with an eerie red hue. Her blood tendrils flicked and coiled at her sides like hungry serpents, ready to lash out at any moment.

She knew better than to get too close.

She had seen Damien do this before—not in battle, but in practice.

’If I get within range, he’s going to release that damn pollen.’

It was a special kind of spore released by his plants—a hallucinogenic toxin laced with pheromones. If she inhaled too much, she’d be left swinging at ghosts.

A couple of first-years might’ve already charged in blindly.

But not her.

Serena snapped her fingers, and her blood tendrils shot forward in a blinding streak.

Damien reacted instantly.

The roots lunged upward, twisting into a makeshift barrier that caught the tendrils mid-air, the impact sending a sharp whiplike crack through the ring.

Serena clicked her tongue.

’Of course he can keep up at range, too.’

Her blood tendrils shot out in unpredictable angles, slicing the air, curving like whips, and forcing Damien to stay on the move.

But Damien’s plants adapted just as fast.

Roots regrew where they were severed, vines stretched and snapped like whips, and thorns shot out like bullets, zipping toward Serena at breakneck speed.

She twisted her body, dodging the first wave—then gritted her teeth as a thorn scraped past her shoulder, drawing a thin gash.

’Tch. Fast.’

But she wasn’t the only one taking damage.

A particularly sharp blood spear shot through Damien’s shoulder, forcing him back a step.

He barely winced.

The wounds weren’t the problem.

The problem was the blood.

Serena smirked.

’Got him.’

Her blood—her weapon—was still attached to him.

In an instant, she manipulated it, forcing the red tendril to extend, constricting around his arm like a coiled serpent.

Damien didn’t hesitate.

With a snap of his fingers, his plant released the spore.

A cloud of greenish mist erupted between them.

Serena’s smirk vanished.

Shit.

It was instant.

Her vision warped.

The world around her distorted, shadows shifting, figures appearing in the corner of her eyes only to vanish the moment she turned to face them.

She knew this sensation.

Damien’s pollen.

’It’s starting.’

Her blood tendrils whipped out wildly, slashing through nothing.

And Damien?

He was watching. Waiting.

’Three seconds. That’s how long it takes before they start seeing illusions.’

He’d used this trick before. It never failed.

But Serena?

She’d seen it too.

’Breathe slow. Stay still. Close your eyes.’

It wasn’t about what she saw.

It was about what she heard.

The sound of roots stretching, shifting.

The air whistling as thorns were launched.

She didn’t need to see to fight.

She moved on instinct.

Her blood hardened instantly into a shield, blocking three incoming projectiles.

Her other tendrils—still wrapped around Damien’s arm—yanked.

Hard.

Damien’s balance broke for just a second.

But a second was all she needed.

The hallucination was still affecting her.

But her instincts were sharper.

Her blood surged from her fingertips, twisting into a spiral drill-like construct.

Aiming right for him.

Damien gritted his teeth.

He saw it coming—but she was faster than expected.

’She’s already compensating for the hallucinations? What a pain.’ Continue your adventure at novelbuddy

His roots exploded from the ground, forming a massive flower-like structure that engulfed him entirely, sealing him inside like a protective cocoon.

Serena’s blood drill slammed into the plant wall—but instead of piercing through, the roots absorbed the impact, shifting like a fluid mass.

Then—they lashed out.

Serena barely dodged, twisting mid-air as vines whipped past her, carving deep lines into the stone beneath her feet.

She landed with a sharp exhale.

Damien emerged from the cocoon, completely unharmed.

Their eyes met.

A pause.

A breath.

No more holding back.

Damien’s plants surged like a living beast, thorns, roots, and vines weaving together, forming massive, writhing appendages that struck out at lightning speed.

Serena’s blood rippled, splitting into multiple tendrils, each one moving independently—some hardening into spears, some sharpening into blades, others forming thin, nearly invisible threads that could slice through flesh like wire.

The fight became erractic.

Blood and plants clashed in mid-air, the impact sending shockwaves through the ring.

Damien launched a barrage of thorns.

Serena’s blood formed a spinning saw that deflected them.

Serena tried to ensnare him with her tendrils.

Damien’s roots intercepted, tangling them mid-air.

Damien lunged forward, a plant-covered fist aiming for her ribs.

Serena countered, her blood forming a hardened gauntlet, blocking the blow.

Their attacks started chaining together.

It was no longer one move at a time.

It was combos.

The crowd o students and teachers were in awe.

The difference between year 1 and year 2 was clear.

Where the first-years fought with raw talent and instinct, these two fought with calculated precision.

’Damn,’ Noah thought, watching from the sidelines. ’This is an entirely different level.’

Lucas let out a low whistle. "They’re insane."

Sophie, usually composed, was gripping her arms. "They’re…too fast."

The last exchange sent them both skidding backward.

Serena was panting.

Damien’s clothes were torn.

Both had bruises and minor cuts.

But neither was close to giving up.

They locked eyes.

Then—they moved.

The crowd of students erupted as they clashed again.

The fight was far from over.