Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 77: Mental state

A blinding flash of light, followed by that characteristic dizziness.

Mordred was snatched violently out of the draconic world, and a moment later, Isaac opened his eyes abruptly in the darkness of his bedroom, panting, brow beaded with sweat. The familiar ceiling of his apartment greeted him once again, bathed in pale moonlight filtering through the half-open blinds.

A heavy silence reigned in the room, broken only by the distant sound of a few late-night cars. But in this apparent calm, something was rumbling beneath the surface.

[Ding.]

The system notification appeared before his eyes, familiar, almost reassuring.

[You have absorbed an additional 18 Moonstones.]

[Dragon scale evolution in progress...]

[Transformation: your body now displays draconic scales on your upper torso].

[Total number of active scales: 63].

Isaac looked down at his arm. The black scales, gleaming and hard as rock, had spread, no longer confined to his arm: they now climbed up to his shoulder, then onto his left pectoral, drawing a menacing organic armor. He stood up slowly, took off his T-shirt and walked towards the mirror.

What he saw chilled him.

Scales blended into his skin as if they had always been there. His upper torso now seemed partially reptilian. Bluish-black veins pulsed beneath the scales, and every beat of his heart made this strange coating vibrate. He placed his hand on his chest, where the scales were beginning to form an almost complete layer.

- What’s become of me...?" he murmured, halfway between fear and fascination.

He slowly put his shirt back on and returned to his bed, but sleep was not going to come easily tonight.

No sooner had he closed his eyes than a flood of images took hold of his mind.

Screams. Pleas. Blood.

Slaves impaled around the mine. Inert, hanging bodies, eyes still open, frozen in pain.

The groans of the man he’d seen beaten senseless. The open wounds, the torn flesh.

And Akane. The scarred back, the bruised shoulders, the empty eyes. The trembling voice saying, "What you see is only one percent."

Isaac opened his eyes abruptly, sweating and gasping for breath. He straightened up, rubbed his face, stood up, paced up and down his small living room.

But every time he closed his eyelids, the images returned. The slaves’ faces, the screams, the cracking whip, Akane’s gaze, Belgaroth’s mocking eye. The Queen’s look, pale and premonitory. The king’s laughter announcing the invasion.

It was unbearable. He wanted to scream.

He sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, his trembling hands resting on his knees. He closed his eyes once more... and this time, it wasn’t fear or pain that overwhelmed him, but a slow, burning, icy... rage.

Cold rage. An anger of absolute clarity.

- They suffer... over there... every day," he murmured, his voice cracking. And I sleep here. I eat. I breathe. And they bleed.

He stood up abruptly, walking towards the mirror, his eyes filled with a new glow.

- I’m their only hope. The only bridge between the two worlds. If I falter... then they’re lost.

His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.

- Akane... the slaves... my own world... they all need me. No one will come to save them. Then it’ll be me. I’ll get them out. All of them.

Then, in a firm, icy voice, staring into his reflection, he said:

- I will become... the most powerful hunter this world has ever known.

At the same moment, a searing heat spread through his chest. He brought a hand to his sternum, breathless.

[Ding.]

[The mana core reacts to your mental state].

[Spontaneous evolution in progress...]

[Level of emotional catalysis reached.]

[Your mana core is tinted: Current color: Orange - Instability mastered].

[A sensory alteration phenomenon is underway].

His pupils in the mirror slowly turned incandescent orange, edged with fine golden veins. He approached, panting slightly, his eyes glowing with a new fire.

His mana was boiling in his body like never before. This wasn’t raw magic... this was something else. This was will transformed into power. A burning engine, fueled by anger, pain and resolve.

He fell to his knees, breathless but strangely lucid. Far from frightening him, this new power reassured him.

The rest of the night was short, but restorative. After allowing the wave of energy to stabilize, Isaac had finally managed to calm his breathing, to channel this cold rage into iron determination. He spent the early hours of the morning training in the silence of his room. No lightning kata today, just repetitions of fluid movements, combinations of movement, balance and breath.

Every blow, every gesture was a silent prayer for those who could no longer pray.

It wasn’t until daybreak that his muscles gave way to fatigue. Exhausted, dripping with sweat, he collapsed on his bed without even removing his top, the scales on his half-naked torso glistening faintly in the pale morning light.

He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. And this time, no images of suffering, no screams... just silence. A pause.

The gentle clinking of cups in the kitchen slowly roused him from sleep. He half-opened his eyes, still sluggish, as the soft voice of his sister, Léna, reached him:

- Isaac, get up... I left you some coffee. You don’t want to be late.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. His muscles, though tense, responded perfectly. But it was when Léna turned her head towards him, toast in hand, that she stared at him sharply.

She squinted.

- Wait... What... Isaac? Your eyes?

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. He’d almost forgotten.

- Ah... yeah. I noticed that too," he replied, reaching for the hot mug on the coffee table. They’ve turned orange.

- But that’s... weird! What have you done?! Is this a side effect of your magic?

Isaac shook his head gently.

- Nothing dangerous. My mana core is evolving, that’s all. It’s not common, but it happens. When your body and will begin to align with your magical flow, changes can occur. But don’t panic.

- ...You’ve been fighting again, haven’t you?

He looked at her for a long moment. Then, gently, he smiled.

- Maybe I have. But I’m fine, don’t worry.

She didn’t add anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. She believed him, but she was worried. And deep down, she sensed that something in him had changed, once again.

He got up after gulping down the coffee, put on a black shirt to hide the scales that sometimes appeared near his neck, and grabbed his long coat. He left the apartment, bag slung over his shoulder, and set off at a determined pace in the direction of the Guild.

The Guild’s main hall was already bustling with activity. But as soon as he passed through the doors, something struck him.

The stares.

Hunters, receptionists... many of them now recognized him. And some even averted their eyes when they met his, as if out of caution.

He approached the counter and found, as usual, the old receptionist with gray hair and a keen eye.

- Well," said the old man, crossing his arms and smiling wryly. There’s the little miracle boy. We thought you and your team were dead after the last dungeon... but no, I guess you’re tough.

- Word travels fast, doesn’t it?" said Isaac with a smirk.

- So do exploits. And anomalies even more so," muttered the old man. But hey, I got your card this morning.

He reached under the counter and pulled out a small black case. He opened it, revealing a shiny new card, with the Guild insignia and gold branding:

Grade C - Isaac Mordred. Class: Warrior.

Isaac took the card, turning it between his fingers.

- It’s official, isn’t it?" he asked.

- Yes, it is. And now that you’re Grade C, the rules change," explained the old man, pointing to a bulletin board. From now on, you’ll get 55% of the gross value of the loot from the dungeons. The Guild no longer takes 60 or 70, as with D and E grades.

- Interesting," said Isaac, putting his card away. What about access rights?

- You have access to all the C dungeons, and with a recommendation, you can even join one of the B ranks... as an observer. But that’s a long way off, don’t kid yourself," he added with a sneer.

- I have every intention of getting closer," replied Isaac, straightening up, his gaze determined.

Just then, a familiar voice called out to him behind his back.

- You’re fucking alive!

He turned and saw Jonah, grinning ear to ear, bag slung over his shoulder. He approached and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

- Man, after the whole harpy dungeon thing, I really thought we were going to have your funeral in the next few days.

- It was a close call," Isaac admitted. But I’m still here.

- And in C grade, too, right? I saw your name on the board this morning. Congratulations, you’re officially a big shot now.

- Thank you, Isaac. What are you in for?

- I’ve gone up to C-rank too, man, the weapon my dad bought is enough to get me up there... I was looking for a team for a C-rank dungeon. I need experience and points. Got any plans?

Isaac looked at Jonah in surprise, discovering he had a father, then at the old man behind the counter.

- Got a C-rank dungeon available?" he asked.

The old man sighed and grabbed an overloaded binder.

- For both of you... yeah. I’ve got something not too deep, but well-stocked. An old underground complex infested with insectoid creatures. But I warn you, it’s no walk in the park.

Isaac crossed his arms, his eyes shining.

- Perfect. We’ll take it.

Jonah nodded, equally excited.

- I have a feeling we’re going to sweat again... but I like it.