Re-Awakened :I Ascend as an SSS-Ranked Dragon Summoner
Chapter 360 - 360: A cruel world

Noah tested his restraints again, feeling the raw power coursing through his evolved physiology. He could break free—the bonds that had held him before his transformation would be like tissue paper now. But Bruce's agonized whimpering reminded him why he couldn't leave. Not yet.

"You know," Noah said, breaking the silence as Kruel continued studying the displays, "if you're really interested in understanding what makes humans tick, I could offer you a chance to study the phenomenon up close."

Kruel's massive head turned, intelligence gleaming in those predatory eyes. "Oh? And how exactly would you propose to do that from your current position?"

"A fight," Noah said simply. "You against me. If I win, you let me go. You get to observe human determination and adaptability under the most extreme pressure possible."

The three-horn's laugh was like grinding stone. "You already lost to the Widow, young soldier. What makes you think you'd fare any better against me?"

Noah sighed theatrically. "Fine. I'll face 'mother' again." He looked directly at the Widow, his voice dripping with mock concern. "How is that maternal complex working out for you? Still trying to adopt every species you encounter through violence?"

The Widow's tail lashed dangerously, but Kruel held up a massive hand before she could respond. His eyes had taken on a calculating gleam.

"An interesting proposition," Kruel mused. "The Widow has already demonstrated her superiority over you once. It would be... educational to see if your recent physical changes have affected your combat effectiveness."

"I am not a puppet to dance for your amusement," the Widow hissed, her voice carrying harmonics that made the air vibrate. "I have already proven my dominance over this whelp."

Kruel's gaze shifted to her, and something in his expression made even the deadly assassin take a step back. "You seem to forget your place, Widow. When I require a demonstration, you provide it. Unless you believe your previous victory was... accidental?"

The threat was subtle but unmistakable. The Widow's jaw clenched, but she inclined her head. "Of course, Commander. I would be happy to remind the human of his limitations."

"Excellent," Kruel said, then gestured to one of the single-horn guards. "Prepare to move the prisoner. We'll conduct this test in an impromptu...combat chamber."

But as the guard moved toward Noah's restraints, something on the peripheral displays caught Kruel's attention. His eyes widened slightly, then he threw back his massive head and laughed—a sound that shook dust from the ceiling.

"Magnificent!" he exclaimed, pointing at the screens showing massive human vessels descending through the orbital approaches of all three planets. "Look at this! The humans have sent reinforcements for their reinforcements. Their military leadership truly is underwhelming sometimes."

Noah followed his gaze and felt his blood run cold. Those ships were massive—colony vessels, probably carrying thousands of people. People who had no idea what they were flying into.

"Prepare the testing chamber," Kruel commanded, but his attention remained fixed on the displays. "Widow, you may use whatever force you deem necessary. Consider it... practice for what's to come."

The Widow's smile was predatory. "With pleasure, Commander."

"Where are you headed?" Noah asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.

Kruel's expression grew thoughtful, almost philosophical. "Before we begin your education in combat futility, perhaps you deserve an education in perspective, young soldier."

He moved closer to Noah's restraints, his massive frame casting shadows that seemed to swallow light itself.

"You spoke earlier of your childhood being 'ruined,'" Kruel continued, his voice taking on the tone of a lecturer. "How your parents abandoned you for the safety of their precious Ark. How this shaped your grudge against my species." His laugh was cold. "Do you have any conception of how pathetic that sounds to a being who has witnessed the birth struggles of forty-three different species?"

Noah remained silent, recognizing that Kruel was building toward something. The three-horn was clearly the type who enjoyed the sound of his own voice, and right now, buying time for his team on the outside was more important than defending his ego.

"Allow me to educate you about true abandonment," Kruel said, beginning to pace with predatory grace. "Harbinger young are not born into families. We are not nursed on nutrient-rich tissues or coddled in protective environments. We emerge from our birthing chambers already capable of violence, because anything less means immediate death."

The three-horn's eyes took on a distant quality, as if seeing across vast expanses of time and space.

"I was spawned in a facility much like this one, alongside seven others of my generation. Within hours of our emergence, we were placed in a single chamber with enough resources to sustain perhaps three individuals. The strong survived. The weak became sustenance for the strong." His smile showed rows of razor-sharp teeth. "I was the only one who emerged from that chamber."

Noah felt his stomach turn, but forced his expression to remain neutral. This was information—horrific information, but potentially useful.

"But that was merely the beginning," Kruel continued, clearly warming to his subject. "Do you know how a Harbinger earns their horns, young soldier? Each one represents a trial overcome, a level of strength achieved that separates us from the lesser beings we were before."

He touched his central horn, the largest of the three, with something approaching reverence.

"My first horn came when I killed my first mentor—a two-horn who had trained me in combat but had grown weak with complacency. My second when I led the successful conquest of the Veltharian system, personally executing their planetary leaders after their surrender. My third..." His eyes gleamed with remembered violence. "My third came when I surpassed my own progenitor, proving that I had evolved beyond the being who had spawned me."

The casual way he spoke of such brutality made Noah's enhanced healing abilities seem almost inadequate by comparison. This wasn't just violence—it was systematic, culturally enforced evolution through trauma.

"And yet here you stand," Kruel continued, "speaking of abandonment because your genetic donors chose survival over sentiment. Claiming that this minor inconvenience somehow justifies your species' continued resistance against genetically superior beings."

He leaned closer, his breath carrying the scent of ozone and old blood.

"I have conquered species whose young are literally consumed by their parents as a rite of passage. I have subjugated civilizations where children are born into slavery and consider freedom to be a myth. I have watched entire populations adapt to conditions that would drive your kind insane within hours."

Kruel straightened to his full height, his presence filling the chamber like a physical force.

"The Korathans of Sigma Prime spend their first decade of life in complete darkness, hunting and being hunted by creatures that consider them prey. They emerge stronger, faster, and more ruthless than any human could ever dream of becoming. The Zel'thari are born without limbs and must grow new ones through pure force of will and cellular manipulation. The Vorthak reproduce by having their young literally claw their way out of their parent's still-living bodies."

Each example was delivered with clinical precision, designed to illustrate just how insignificant Noah's childhood trauma truly was in the cosmic scope of suffering.

"And all of these species—every single one—eventually thrived under our rule once they accepted the fundamental truth of existence: strength is the only currency that matters. Power is the only virtue worth pursuing. Everything else is delusion designed to comfort the weak."

Bruce's agonized whimper from across the chamber provided a perfect counterpoint to Kruel's philosophy, but the three-horn continued as if he hadn't heard it.

"Your species interests me precisely because you seem incapable of learning this lesson," Kruel said, his voice taking on an almost academic tone. "Most civilizations, when faced with overwhelming superior force, adapt. They find ways to serve their betters. They evolve beyond their limitations or they perish in the attempt."

He gestured toward the displays showing the approaching human vessels.

"But humans? Humans send more ships. More soldiers. More resources to be consumed in futile resistance. You fight not because you can win, but because you refuse to accept that you cannot. It's simultaneously the most admirable and most foolish trait I've encountered in seventeen star systems."

Kruel's eyes fixed on Noah with predatory intensity.

"So tell me, young soldier with your tragic backstory and your strangely evolved physiology—when you face the Widow again and she breaks you piece by piece, will you finally understand? Will you see that your grudge against us is nothing more than a child's tantrum against the fundamental nature of reality?"

He moved toward the chamber's exit, his massive frame casting longer shadows as he prepared to leave.

"Because today, young soldier, those ships full of your people are going to learn what the forty-three species before them learned. That the universe does not care about your feelings, your hopes, your dreams, or your determination."

Kruel paused at the threshold, his voice carrying across the chamber with absolute finality.

"It's time humanity understood the cruel nature of existence."