Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 154: Beneath the Surface

The cast iron plate emitted a mournful metallic screech as it slowly slid to the side, releasing an icy breath laden with putrid humidity that escaped from the dark bowels of the tunnel. The stale air, saturated with mold and decay, rushed into their lungs like a morbid caress. Mordred, his face sculpted into a mask of impassivity but his eyes blazing with a determination that bordered on obsession, exchanged a look heavy with implications with Ygdrasyle before crouching at the edge of the gaping abyss. freewēbnoveℓ.com

His feet found the first rungs of a metal ladder eaten away by rust, whose slippery surface was coated with a film of viscous moss that stuck under his fingers. He began his descent with calculated slowness, each movement precise despite the tension that contracted the muscles of his shoulders.

As he sank into the darkness, the dull beating at the heart of his soul intensified, like a spectral drum marking his progression toward an inescapable destiny. The pulse of his other identity resonated within him like a magnetic call, increasingly clear, increasingly imperious.

Ygdrasyle followed him in this descent into hell with the feline grace that characterized him, his fluid movements contrasting with his companion’s nervous rigidity. His breathing remained perfectly controlled, a true antithesis to Mordred’s short and irregular breath. When their feet finally touched the ground, they discovered cracked concrete paving, partially submerged under stagnant water of ink-black darkness.

The icy liquid, probably the result of infiltrations following the destruction of the city above, lapped sinisterly with each of their steps.

They now moved through a charcoal gray concrete corridor, dimly lit by failing neon lights that crackled sporadically, casting dancing and nervous shadows on walls stained with suspicious brownish streaks. Before them stretched an oppressive and silent labyrinth, remnant of a high-security prison abandoned during the draconic invasion.

The atmosphere was saturated with a heavy and nauseating stench, a sickening mixture of mold, metallic rust fumes, and coppery traces of dried blood that clung to their throats like a funeral veil.

Gaping armored doors opened like shadow maws on the flanks of the corridor, revealing former cells gutted and abandoned. Each bore the stigmata of panic that had marked the hasty evacuation of guards, urgently requisitioned to face the draconic threat. Here and there, prisoners’ bodies lay huddled in the darkness, mummified by hunger and thirst, their hollow sockets forever fixed on the void of their ultimate despair. Neither Mordred nor Ygdrasyle paid the slightest attention to these silent witnesses of tragedy; their minds were entirely focused on a much more personal quest.

Mordred progressed with almost magnetic determination, guided by a force that transcended simple intuition. It was a visceral, primitive call of almost painful power that pulled him inexorably forward.

His steps resonated with mechanical cadence, rapid and impatient, while Ygdrasyle followed him in vigilant silence, all his senses on alert, watching their backs while scrutinizing the hostile environment with his analytical gaze.

- "Faster," Mordred murmured through his clenched teeth, the words escaping like a hoarse breath.

His entire body vibrated with electrical tension, like a metal wire attracted by an invisible magnet of titanic power. Ygdrasyle raised an intrigued eyebrow but quickened his pace without protest, intuitively understanding that something fundamental was at stake.

Mordred was no longer master of himself; he moved like a sleepwalker guided by a force that surpassed his conscious will.

They crossed several corridors at a hurried pace, nimbly avoiding debris scattered on the soggy floor, puddles of stagnant water, and abandoned remains.

The oppressive silence was broken only by the muffled echo of their steps on the wet concrete, creating an atmosphere of profaned cathedral.

Suddenly, Mordred froze with the brutality of an impact, his breathing becoming labored as he clenched his fists to master the tremors of impatience that shook his entire body.

- "It’s there..." he articulated in a strangled voice, his gaze riveted on a locked armored door that stood before him like an ultimate barrier.

Ygdrasyle observed alternately the door and his companion, gauging with clinical precision the unusual intensity that animated Mordred. A gleam of concern crossed his golden eyes.

- "What are you going to discover behind this door, Mordred?" he asked in a composed voice, despite the apprehension that pierced his tone.

Mordred turned slowly, revealing eyes that blazed with supernatural orange fire, two incandescent braziers in the icy darkness of the corridor.

- "Myself," he replied simply, in a hoarse voice charged with raw emotion.

For the first time, Ygdrasyle perceived in that voice a troubling mixture of feverish anticipation, deep fear, and primitive excitement that made him shiver. He said nothing but his gaze betrayed his incomprehension and a gleam of growing concern. Contenting himself with a resigned nod, he placed his hand on the locked lock.

- "Then let’s not waste any more time."

Beyond the door, the tunnel narrowed and darkened further, as if sinking into the very bowels of the earth. Each of Mordred’s steps seemed to grow heavier with invisible weight, each movement became laborious, as if he were crossing an atmosphere thickened by tangible tension, vibrant with mystical energy.

Before him opened an austere cell, carved into the black rock glistening with humidity. At the center of this confined space, suspended by thick runic chains that pulsed with bluish light, floated a human body in a state of semi-consciousness. Isaac’s silhouette oscillated in flickering light, prisoner of an uncertain state of existence, at the border between life and the beyond.

Mordred advanced with the hypnotic slowness of a sleepwalker, his gaze magnetized by his human double. His steps resonated with mechanical regularity, guided by an irresistible attraction that transcended his will. His flaming pupils, blazing with intense orange, now entirely dominated his gaze, shining with the ardent brilliance of miniature suns. The world around him faded, engulfed by this essential truth that pulsed before him.

- "Mordred? Mordred, answer me!" Ygdrasyle’s voice, tinged with growing concern, was lost in the void.

But Mordred heard nothing more. His consciousness had shrunk until it encompassed only one reality: this body suspended in sepulchral silence was the lost half of his being, his true origin, his first identity. He extended a trembling hand toward Isaac, his fingers brushing the icy skin of his alter ego.

The impact was immediate and striking. A blue spark, pure and blinding, sprang between their two bodies like an electric arc. Then, without warning, a silent explosion of lightning light invaded the cell, a detonation of raw magical power that violently illuminated the dark space. Ygdrasyle leaped back, protecting his eyes with his forearm, blinded by this mystical blast.

Mordred and Isaac were instantly enveloped in an incandescent halo, their bodies drawn to each other by supernatural gravitational force. Their flesh merged in a process of unheard-of violence, their essences mixing in forbidden alchemy. A deep, primal cry emerged from their unified throat while titanic energy escaped from their fusion, making the stone walls vibrate and cracking the rocky walls in an underground rumble.

Ygdrasyle remained petrified, paralyzed by a mixture of stupor and horrified fascination at this impossible metamorphosis, this violation of natural laws unfolding before his eyes.

When the light finally faded, cathedral silence reigned again. Mordred was kneeling at the center of the cell, his transfigured body haloed with an aura of ardent energy that undulated like liquid flames. His silhouette had straightened, gaining in stature and presence, now endowed with perfectly balanced musculature that evoked ancient statuary.

His jet-black hair cascaded to his shoulders in thick and brilliant locks, framing a face with sharp features of dangerous and almost divine beauty. His skin had taken on a golden hue, traversed here and there by subtle draconic scales that caught the light like crystal fragments.

When he slowly opened his eyelids, his eyes revealed two permanent braziers of deep orange, two miniature suns that burned with unequaled inner power.

A cascade of notifications then materialized in his field of vision, projected by the system in characters of fire:

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[Complete fusion successfully completed. Unified identity restored.]

[STATISTICS INCREASE]

[Physical strength: ×2]

[Speed and Agility: ×2]

[Endurance and Vitality: ×2]

[Mana reserves and Magical power: ×2]

[SKILL IMPROVEMENT]

[All existing physical and magical skills have doubled in efficiency and intensity]

[Unique skills merged:]

[Absolute Intangibility - MAX Level reached]

[Transcendent Combat Instinct - MAX Level reached] [UPDATED RANKING]

[You have transcended the A-rank limit]

[New rank assigned: SS]

Mordred breathed deeply, savoring the intoxicating sensation of this tenfold power that flowed in his veins like divine nectar. He rose with fluid and predatory grace, each movement revealing perfect mastery of his new abilities.

A few steps away, Ygdrasyle contemplated him, frozen in a state of deep shock. His breathing was irregular, his golden eyes dilated with disbelief.

- What is... what did I just see? he thought, completely destabilized.

Never had he witnessed a transformation of such magnitude. This brutal, almost divine metamorphosis had just radically upset his perception of Mordred. The latter, who already seemed exceptional before, had just reached a dimension of power that defied understanding. The aura of raw and savage force that emanated from him cruelly reminded Ygdrasyle of his own mortal condition.

- "Mordred..." he finally murmured, his voice almost suffocated by stupefaction. "What exactly did you just accomplish?"

Mordred slowly lifted his gaze toward him, the orange light of his eyes illuminating the sculpted contours of his transfigured face. When he spoke, his voice resonated with new depth, charged with transcendent authority:

- "Ahaha..." A low and hoarse laugh escaped his lips. "I had not anticipated such a... radical metamorphosis."

He contemplated his hands with almost mystical fascination, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists, feeling the titanic energy that now pulsed freely within them.

- "My identity is finally complete. My body has become whole. I have finally become what I was destined to be from the beginning."

A subtle smile, imbued with aristocratic savagery, stretched his perfect lips.

- "From now on, nothing and no one will be able to stand in my way. The world will discover what absolute power truly means."

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