Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 103: A Necessary Sacrifice

Mordred stared intently at the glowing notification before him, time seeming to freeze, the world around him blurring and fading into the distance. Beside him, Kael knelt in the blood-soaked sand, desperately performing chest compressions on the old man’s lifeless body.

- "Come on, old man," Kael murmured in a hoarse, nearly broken voice. "Don’t give up on me now we just survived hell! Breathe, damn it, breathe!"

But Mordred knew. He knew it was too late. He understood the devastating efficiency of his new skill, and he was certain there was no return for the man he had just coldly struck down, even as guilt began to gnaw at his soul.

His orange gaze burned intensely, fixed on the translucent screen floating before him: ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

[Absorption complete: Please choose between: → [Physical Stats] → [Physical Skills]]

He inhaled slowly, briefly closed his eyes, then silently pleaded as if in a desperate prayer:

- "Please, gods, deities, demons—whoever hears this plea... I need this skill. I need his ability to evade death, to strike back before thought even reaches me. Please..."

He mentally extended his will and resolutely selected:

— [Physical Skills].

A profound, terrifying silence followed his decision. Seconds passed interminable, cruel while Mordred waited anxiously, his heart pounding like a wild drum in his chest.

- "Come on," he murmured, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Come on... come on!"

Beside him, Kael continued his chest compressions, each push more desperate than the last, tears beginning to stream down his grimy cheeks.

Then, suddenly, a gentle "DING" resonated clear and pure, like a celestial bell filling Mordred with an almost uncontrollable euphoria.

The notification finally appeared before his eyes:

[New skill acquired]

[Instinctive Awakening : Level 1]

[Description: Your body can now act before your mind can formulate a conscious thought. At this initial level, the skill manifests through subtle and incomplete signs. Caution: Using this skill imposes a significant strain on the body and can only be maintained briefly to avoid serious physical damage.]

Uncontrollable excitement surged through Mordred.

- "YES!" he shouted abruptly, raising his arms to the sky, triumphant despite himself.

Kael jolted violently, nearly dropping the old man’s body, utterly bewildered by Mordred’s unexpected outburst.

- "But... you... what’s happening?" Kael exclaimed, completely lost and anxious.

Mordred, suddenly aware of his overly enthusiastic reaction, quickly resumed his role, feigning a surprised, almost amazed expression.

- "I... I think I heard a heartbeat," he lied swiftly, placing a trembling hand on Kael’s massive shoulder. "Keep going—you might still save him!"

Kael, hopeful once more, redoubled his efforts, driven by the cruel illusion Mordred had created.

But before he could continue further, a squad of dragon guards burst onto the arena’s sand, wielding spears and shields.

- "Step aside immediately!" one of the guards commanded with authority.

Kael looked up at them, his eyes filled with despair, without ceasing his actions.

- "No, you don’t understand!" he cried, his voice choked with distress. "His heart can start again! Give me a little more time, I beg you!"

But the guards remained impassive, approaching relentlessly to seize Kael by the shoulders.

- "That’s enough, human," another guard growled disdainfully. "He’s dead let him rest in peace. Return to your cell, now!"

- "NO!" Kael screamed with uncontrollable rage, struggling violently, trying to escape their powerful grips. "I can save him! Let me try!"

The crowd erupted in cruel, mocking laughter, openly enjoying the tragic spectacle unfolding before them.

- "Look at him beg!" a dragon spectator sneered venomously. "What a pathetic creature!"

The guards, irritated by Kael’s desperate resistance, lifted him unceremoniously, dragging him mercilessly toward the corridors leading to the cells.

- "NO! NO!" Kael shouted, his eyes brimming with tears. "Mordred, help me—tell them! His heart can start again—you said so yourself!"

Mordred slowly turned his gaze away, unable to bear the pain in Kael’s voice. He knew he was the direct cause of this suffering. His chest tightened painfully, guilt knotting his stomach. But he remained silent, allowing Kael to be taken away, screaming and struggling, amid the vile laughter of the draconic crowd.

As he followed the guards obediently toward the cells, Mordred felt a dark anger, a cold rage, rise in his heart. His fists clenched again, his nails digging deep into his palms, drawing a trickle of warm blood.

Once back in the damp, cold darkness of the cell, Mordred found Kael huddled in a dark corner, his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. He approached slowly and sat beside him without a word, gently placing a hand on his massive shoulder.

- "Why..." Kael murmured between muffled sobs. "Why did he have to go like that? After all we’ve survived... why?"

Mordred took a deep breath, struggling to find his words.

- "I’m sorry, Kael... Sometimes, fate is cruel. This world is made of sacrifices," he said slowly, each word laced with bitter truth.

Kael looked up at him with reddened, pleading eyes.

- "Do you really think I could have saved him, Mordred?"

Mordred clenched his teeth, battling his own guilt before responding with sincere sadness:

- "You did everything you could. Sometimes, despite all our efforts, things just... end badly."

Kael remained silent for a moment, then broke into uncontrollable sobs, burying his face in his calloused hands.

Mordred stayed beside him all evening, silent, watching the cold shadow of night slowly descend upon their cell. Deep inside, he still felt that tearing guilt. But more than ever, a cold conviction burned in his heart:

All of this was necessary. One day, he would make them pay for every laugh, every humiliation, every drop of blood spilled.

The clamour of the Colosseum continued to resonate in the distance, the cruel laughter and triumphant roars of the dragons rising like an insult to Mordred’s ears. Sitting beside Kael, in the oppressive darkness of their cell, he observed in silence the massive warrior now curled up, exhausted by his silent sobs. Mordred remained motionless, outwardly unshaken, but internally agitated by a storm of swirling thoughts.

Hours passed slowly, marked only by the distant sounds of the Colosseum, until suddenly, the theatrical voice of the announcer echoed in the distance, announcing the end of the evening. Mordred slowly raised his eyes to the narrow window, watching the torchlights extinguish one by one, as the dragons took flight with powerful wingbeats.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the stone corridors, announcing the imminent arrival of the dragon guards. They burst in roughly, violently opening the cell door.

- "Up!" one of them ordered with an authoritative and cold voice. "You’re returning to your usual cells."

Kael, his gaze empty and resigned, complied without resistance. Mordred also rose without a word, silently following the guards, his mind already focused on something else: mastering his new skill.

A few minutes later, he was once again locked in his personal cell in the Colosseum. The place, cold and dark, had become painfully familiar to him. Mordred waited patiently for complete silence to settle, the footsteps fading in the corridors, before exhaling deeply.

He stood up slowly, positioned himself at the centre of the room, closed his eyes, and tried to feel within himself this new ability that had cost the old man his life.

- "[Instinctive Awakening]," he murmured softly.

Nothing happened. Not even a faint sensation or a flicker of intuition.Frustrated but determined, Mordred tried again immediately.

- "[Instinctive Awakening]," he repeated, this time with a slightly firmer voice.

Still, nothing.

Minutes passed then tens of minutes as he continued to persist, standing motionless at the center of the room, desperately trying to trigger the elusive skill. With each failure, his inner irritation grew, a dull anger slowly flooding his heart.

- "Did I... did I kill that old man for nothing?" he suddenly thought a cold, painful realization that immediately corroded his conscience like burning acid.

The crushing weight of guilt fell hard upon him, his tormented mind replaying over and over the final moments of the old gladiator: those wide, bewildered eyes, filled with pain and incomprehension.

His hands trembled under the weight of his own judgment, and his breathing grew shallow and erratic.

- "No," he murmured, shaking his head sharply to chase away the doubt. "It was necessary. I had to do it. I had no choice..."

But the thoughts kept returning relentless, oppressive.Furious with himself, Mordred suddenly clenched his jaw and, with a harsh gesture, slapped his own cheek violently.

The pain was sharp and immediate, finally allowing him to regain control over his chaotic emotions. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes once again, focusing all his attention on his new skill, forcing out every distracting thought.

- "Come on... focus... One more time," he muttered with renewed resolve.

- "[Instinctive Awakening]."

This time, a faint warmth passed through his skin—soft and almost imperceptible. Mordred slowly opened his eyes, intrigued. Everything suddenly felt strangely slow, as though the world around him had sunk into thick molasses.

A fly, usually swift and elusive, drifted lazily across his field of vision.Without even consciously realizing it, his body reacted instinctively—his head tilting slightly to the side, perfectly dodging the insect. All of it without the slightest conscious effort. His eyes tracked the fly’s motion with flawless precision, each beat of its wings clearly visible.

A euphoric smile briefly crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a puzzled frown. In this state, he immediately tried to strike—imagining an opponent before him but his body refused to obey, his arm frozen despite his will to move.

- "Impossible..." he muttered in frustration. "I can’t attack in this state... Why?"

A flash of understanding raced through his mind: the skill was still at its initial level far too weak to allow for offensive retaliation. He would need to train it again and again to unlock its full potential.

The skill suddenly dissipated, and a brutal, overwhelming pain crashed over him like a tidal wave. He collapsed heavily to his knees, his breath stolen by the intensity of the muscular agony. Every fiber of his body burned as though on the verge of tearing apart, vicious cramps coursing through his entire form. His muscles were on the brink of rupture under the strain, but they held just barely.

Panting, teeth clenched, Mordred murmured in a trembling voice:

- "When the system says ’strain on the body,’ it really means it..."

He remained on his knees for several long minutes, waiting for the excruciating pain to subside.

Despite the suffering, a determined smile slowly crept across his lips.He had taken a crucial step learned a valuable lesson.