Starting out as a Dragon Slave

The room seemed to tremble under the impact of the monstrous blows exchanged between Lazare and Belgaroth. Each of their exchanges released terrifying shock waves, distorting the air, fracturing the stone walls, making the floor itself vibrate. Belgaroth’s ardent flames crackled around him, snaking along his massive arms, carving trails of fire on the ground. His arrogant, almost savage smile never left his face as he swung his fists like war hammers, each blow releasing an incandescent wave.

Lazare dodged, his movements subtly deflecting the energy, compressing the air around him to propel himself with millimetric movements. The flames never touched him directly, turning away around him, sometimes exploding in bursts of light. But Belgaroth, far from being annoyed, seemed to be enjoying this incessant ballet.

- "So this is the best humans have to offer?" he mocked, his rumbling voice resonating throughout the room. "Running... hiding... playing the dancing shadows."

Lazare, his breath measured, observed his movements with piercing acuity. Each of Belgaroth’s attacks was methodical, brutal, but with calculated precision. The red dragon was far from being a simple brute; each strike seemed to anticipate a possible retreat, forcing Lazare to move into zones of weakness.

- "Why are you here?" whispered Lazare, his eyes scrutinizing Belgaroth with icy intensity. "What is your mission?"

Belgaroth laughed, a guttural and contemptuous laugh, slightly shaking his broad shoulders.

- "Mission? Oh, you really think we act out of obligation? No, guild master... it’s a pleasure. We’re here for the simple pleasure of destruction. You know what’s most amusing about you humans? You’re so fragile, so easy to break... especially your females."

Lazare didn’t flinch, but his fingers tensed slightly. His mana vibrated around him, the air charging with a subtle pressure, as if the molecules themselves were responding to his contained rage.

- "Why now? Why here?" he insisted, his voice taking on a harder tone.

Belgaroth tilted his head, his eyes glowing with an amused glint.

- "Why not? The Empire is tired of waiting. It’s time to have some fun... And this land, this world you love so much... it will burn. Slowly. Just enough for you to see it disintegrate beneath your feet."

Lazare struck the floor with a sharp movement, creating a wave of pure mana that propagated in a perfect circle around him. Belgaroth bent his knees slightly, his smile widening, then he disappeared.

- "Too slow!" called a voice behind Lazare.

The guild master turned around, his two hands tracing an invisible arc. Space warped, air compressed, but Belgaroth emerged through this distortion, his claws crackling with black flames slicing the air in a supernatural howl. Lazare barely dodged, but a trickle of blood beaded on his cheek.

- "Starting to give way, isn’t it?" Belgaroth taunted, his fangs gleaming with a sadistic light.

Lazare didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the dragon’s movements, analyzing each variation in his mana, each oscillation in his attacks. He noticed the runic patterns gently pulsing on his forearms, the burning glow that radiated from his scales as he channeled his energy.

- "Dragons really exist, Isaac wasn’t lying," Lazare breathed between breaths.

Belgaroth burst into laughter, a guttural sound that echoed throughout the room.

- "Oh, we exist... and we’re going to have fun here. You think I’m the only one? Ah... human females will appreciate it so much... their skin so soft... their scent so... alive."

An icy shiver ran down Lazare’s spine, but his face remained impassive. He swept the air in front of him with a precise movement, and space warped again, compressing the distance between the two of them. This time, Belgaroth didn’t move, taking the impact head-on, his incandescent scales shining under the invisible force. A deep murmur resonated in the room, and the runes engraved on his chest lit up, absorbing the attack as if it were nothing more than a light breeze.

- "There," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Now we can really begin."

He disappeared.

Lazare didn’t have time to blink before a fiery fist crashed against his chest, propelling him backward with unprecedented violence. The shock wave cracked the floor for several meters, and a burning breath filled the air. Lazare straightened up, his breath shorter, but his eyes still as cold.

- "What exactly are you?" he whispered as he rose.

Belgaroth stepped forward slowly, his reddening eyes narrowing with terrible amusement.

- "I am the heir to a world you cannot even conceive. And you... you will disappear with the rest of your insignificant species."

Silence fell again. Lazare slowly resumed his guard position, his fingers tracing subtle circles in the air around him. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he took a deep breath.

- "Very well... it’s time."

His voice vibrated in the air, deeper, more resonant. The atmosphere changed abruptly, charging with a new density, an electric tension that made the walls themselves tremble. Lazare spread his arms slightly, and a complex symbol appeared on the floor, engraved with lines of pure mana, swirling beneath his feet.

- "I’ll show you... what a human can really do."

Belgaroth narrowed his eyes, a predatory smile stretching his lips.

- "Finally, you stop playing."

Lazare slowly raised his right hand, a luminous circle drawing itself in the air around him, filaments of pure energy running along his fingers. His gaze fixed on Belgaroth, and in his eyes shone a light of absolute resolution.

- "Absolute Transcendent..."

Isaac, on the other side of the room, faced Akane. The warrior’s eyes, emptied of all will, stared at an invisible point in front of her, her body taut like a bow, ready to strike. He knew, deep down, that she was being controlled. But seeing her like this, reduced to this state of slavery, her movements dictated by another, tore his heart out.

A flood of memories burst into his mind. Their exchanges of blows in the arena, her smiles full of defiance, her eyes shining with rage and life... Today, she was nothing more than a shadow of herself, a weapon wielded by Belgaroth.

Isaac clenched his fists, his pupils illuminating with an incandescent orange.

- "I’m sorry..." he whispered to himself. "But I’m going to bring you back."

And so began the cruelest duel of his life.

The tension was palpable, like a taut wire ready to snap at the slightest breath. Isaac faced Akane, his fists clenched, muscles stretched to the extreme. At his side, Naesha stood slightly back, her daggers already drawn, gleaming with an almost ghostly light. Her piercing gaze analyzed Akane with cold precision, calculating angles of attack, possible trajectories. But Isaac, he only saw Akane’s face, the one he had observed so often in the arena, the one he had learned to love in silence.

- "Isaac, what do we do?" whispered Naesha, her eyes remaining fixed on the target.

He didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were locked onto Akane’s. She hadn’t changed. Despite the scars, despite the chains, she still had that straight and proud demeanor, even under the yoke of slavery. Her face bore the marks of suffering, but her features remained of a fierce, untamed beauty. Seeing her like this, deprived of her freedom, her mind chained, ignited a spark of pure rage in Isaac’s heart.

- "We bring her back... alive," he finally said, his voice hoarse and tense.

Naesha briefly turned her gaze toward him, a shadow of incomprehension passing in her eyes.

- "Alive? Isaac, she’ll kill us if we don’t do what’s necessary. She’s under the control of that collar, she has no limits."

Isaac nodded, his fists clenching until his knuckles whitened. His mana pulsed in his veins, resonating painfully with his emotions. He felt his heart beating at a frantic rhythm, his vision blurring for a moment, as if Akane’s mere presence revived every memory, every buried pain.

- "I know... but I’m going to free her."

Naesha didn’t reply, but her gaze hardened. She adjusted her grip on her daggers, her muscles tense, ready to pounce at the slightest movement.

Facing them, Akane moved slightly, her empty eyes fixing on Isaac. He perceived a fleeting glimmer in her gaze, a spark of emotion, for a moment... then the emptiness returned, like an icy wave submerging all consciousness.

- "Akane..." Isaac whispered in a trembling voice.

She didn’t respond. With a superhuman leap, she propelled herself forward, her feet sliding across the floor in a movement as fluid as it was lethal. Isaac barely had time to parry her fist, the impact resonating like a thunderclap. The air wrinkled around them, and Isaac felt the raw power of her blow vibrating in his bones.

Akane didn’t slow down. Her foot pivoted, a circular kick whistling toward his temple. Isaac dodged it by a hair’s breadth, feeling the cutting wind brush his face. Naesha then emerged from the shadows, her daggers cleaving the air in a flash of silver. Akane parried with supernatural agility, her arms blocking the blades as if they were mere twigs.

- "Damn, she’s fast!" Naesha hissed through her teeth.

- "She’s not just fast," Isaac replied, eyes fixed on Akane. "She’s... perfect."

The truth was there. Each of Akane’s movements was pure, without flourishes. She didn’t waste a single gesture, each blow was meant to kill. Isaac remembered the hours of training, the fierce fights in the arena, where she surpassed her opponents through technical mastery that was almost unmatched.

The fight resumed with renewed intensity. Akane never seemed to slow down, her attacks following one after another without respite, her fists and feet cleaving the air with surgical precision. Isaac parried, dodged, feeling each impact shake his arms, his legs. Naesha whirled around her, trying to exploit openings, but each blow dealt was deflected, blocked, returned with devastating force.

Isaac’s heart tightened with each contact. Each time he blocked her fist, each time he felt the force of her blows, he remembered their exchanges, the silent alchemy that had established between them over the course of the fights. And today, that same force was directed against him, devoid of all control, of all personal will.

- "Akane!" he suddenly shouted, between two brutal exchanges. "I know you’re in there! I know you’re fighting!"

She didn’t react, her face frozen in a cold, mechanical expression. The collar around her neck pulsed slightly, its engraved runes lighting up with each movement. Isaac saw this light, and a flash of understanding crossed him.

- "Naesha! We need to cut that collar!"

The huntress looked at him, hesitating for a brief moment.

- "If we miss... she kills us," she whispered.

- "We have no choice," Isaac replied, his voice heavy with determination.

They redeployed, changing strategy. Naesha slipped into the shadows, almost completely disappearing from view. Isaac remained facing Akane, his gaze fixed on her, looking for an opening, a moment of weakness, an instant when the light would return to her eyes.

They exchanged another series of lightning-fast blows. Akane attacked relentlessly, each strike faster, more violent than the previous one. Isaac absorbed, parried, feeling his muscles tremble under the impact, but he didn’t let go.

- "Akane! I know you’re in there!" he suddenly shouted, his voice echoing in the room.

A brief flash in her eyes. A fraction of a second.

- "Now!" Isaac shouted.

Naesha emerged from the shadows, her daggers cleaving the air, heading straight for Akane’s collar. But before the blades could reach their target, Akane turned on herself with deadly grace, her leg describing a perfect arc, hitting Naesha squarely in the flank and projecting her several meters back.

Isaac flinched, his fists clenching further. Rage rose in him, burning, devouring. The very idea of seeing her like this, used, manipulated, was unbearable to him.

- "I’ll get you out of there," he whispered, his eyes lighting up with an incandescent orange, his muscles tensing like bows. "I promise you, Akane... I will bring you back."