Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 87: Government Announcement

Isaac, still sitting on the edge of his bed, slowly caught his breath. His body was still pulsing with a new, unsettling energy—yet strangely satisfying. He reached out for his phone on the nightstand, the glow of the screen briefly illuminating his face.

As soon as he opened the news app, his eyes were immediately drawn to the headlines. Notifications were piling up, all repeating the same central topic—relentless, obsessive:

- "Series of Hunter Disappearances: New Emergency Protocol Enforced by the Government and the Hunter Bureau."

Isaac frowned. With a quick flick of his thumb, he scrolled through the article. Every line seemed to tighten the weight in his chest:

- "In recent weeks, the frequency of hunter disappearances—ranks B, A, and even S—has reached alarming levels. The affected dungeons show no obvious signs of abnormal hostile activity during preliminary explorations, yet entire teams continue to vanish without a trace."

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair, still damp with cold sweat. The article continued, bold and formal:

- "In response to these repeated incidents, the government, in collaboration with the Hunter Bureau, is instituting a new nationwide mandatory safety protocol. From today onward, any guild, team, or independent hunter wishing to enter a dungeon must include at least one hunter ranked two levels above the dungeon’s classification, if available. This measure applies to all dungeons up to rank C. For higher ranks, where such hunters are scarce, extreme caution remains mandatory."

Isaac reread the final sentence slowly, and a weary sigh escaped him. The logic behind the protocol was clear, but its implications were heavy: the world was sliding into a kind of invisible war. And the authorities still had no real understanding of what they were up against.

- "This is getting serious..." he murmured into the silence of his room, setting his phone down beside him.

The message was clear: no one was safe anymore. These disappearances weren’t random, nor isolated incidents. Something—or rather, someone—was behind it all. Something precise. Methodical. Merciless.

Finally, Isaac stood, leaving that thought behind—for now. He needed to act quickly, but for the moment, he had more immediate priorities. His body was responding again, fully, despite the residual ache from his recent transformations.

He got dressed swiftly—black jeans, a simple pullover—slipping his phone into his back pocket. As he descended the apartment stairs, he could already hear Léna moving about downstairs, likely preparing coffee or something to eat.

That familiar sound brought Isaac a strange sense of comfort amidst the chaos slowly unfolding around him. As he reached the ground floor, he paused for a moment, watching Léna as she stood over the kitchen counter, calmly preparing their breakfast with serene, unbothered focus.

Paris – National Hunter Bureau HeadquartersCouncil Chamber, 9:30 a.m.

The Council Chamber was drenched in a frozen silence, disturbed only by the faint rustling of pages being turned by tense, anxious fingers. The large oval desk, made of polished oak and gleaming enough to reflect the faces of those seated around it, was surrounded by eight elegant chairs—now occupied by the most influential figures of the French Hunter Bureau.

At the head of the table sat Laurent Varennes, President of the Bureau. In his sixties, his impeccably styled gray hair framed a strict face lined with deep creases. He was reviewing the weekly report with meticulous care. To his right sat his long-time deputy and right-hand man of ten years, Julien Courval, clutching his pen with visible tension as he waited for his superior’s reaction.

Around the table sat:

Commander Alexandre Moreau, former rank-A hunter, head of national operational security.

Marguerite Delorme, director of logistics and strategic supplies, a sharp-eyed woman known for her rigor.

Arnaud Lécuyer, head of magical research and analysis, a young prodigy renowned for his unwavering calm.

Olivia Fontaine, senior advisor for diplomacy and public relations, delicate-featured with a cutting gaze.

Jean-Baptiste Rivière, military general overseeing coordination between hunters and the French army, a massive man with a weathered face.

Hélène Martel, head of high-rank hunter management, visibly troubled of late.

The silence soon became stifling—until Varennes slowly raised his head and removed his glasses in a deliberate gesture.

- "We’ve lost... ten more hunters this week," he said. "Four entire teams wiped out in dungeons previously deemed low-risk. Two rank Bs. Three rank Cs. This is unacceptable."

His voice was cold, implacable, laced with a carefully restrained anger.

Julien Courval exhaled slowly, speaking in a grave tone:

- "We’ve also lost two magical reconnaissance drones and several pieces of highly classified equipment. Material losses have increased by twenty-five percent compared to last week. Our reserves of synthetic mana are dropping at an alarming rate."

Commander Moreau clenched his jaw, nodding slightly.

- "I’ve already ordered all teams to heighten their vigilance, but... I have to be honest. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with. These... ambushes... are surgical. Someone—or something—is targeting our best hunters with terrifying precision."

Marguerite Delorme spoke up, her voice cold and crisp:

- "If this trend continues, we soon won’t be able to properly equip even our most elite hunters. Our supplies are running dry, and costs are spiraling out of control."

- "And public opinion is growing increasingly anxious," added Olivia Fontaine, her tone firm. "We must restore trust. Otherwise, we’re staring down the barrel of mass unrest."

President Varennes slowly set his glasses on the table and looked each council member in the eye with a weighty gaze.

- "The new security protocol has just been enacted. From today, every expedition must include at least one hunter two ranks above the dungeon’s level. I won’t lie to you—this is as much a desperate measure as it is a cautious one."

Hélène Martel spoke in a weary voice:

- "We currently have only five S-rank hunters in the entire country. Five. You all know as well as I do—they can’t cover every dungeon on their own. Not with high-level gates open in Paris, Lyon, Marseille... This protocol may be difficult to maintain."

Jean-Baptiste Rivière leaned forward, his voice gravelly and resolute:

- "Then we need to accelerate the recruitment and training of new talent. We need more hunters capable of handling critical situations without relying solely on the S-ranks. This may be a silent war—but it’s still a war."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Arnaud Lécuyer, who had remained silent until now, calmly adjusted his glasses, his gaze steady and methodical:

— If I may, he said, these attacks are anything but random. They target specific hunters. They’re intelligent, calculated... It’s no coincidence that the teams with the most promising hunters are consistently singled out.

President Varennes furrowed his brow slightly, contemplating the analyst’s words. After a long pause, he finally took a deep breath and looked up at his colleagues.

— Let’s hope the new measures will be enough to limit the damage. We must discover the source of these attacks—and quickly. We need to understand their exact purpose. In the meantime... we must do everything in our power to preserve the lives of our hunters. They are our last line of defense, and they’re falling too fast.

He stood up slowly, his tone grim as he concluded:

— This meeting is adjourned. We reconvene in 48 hours. I expect a detailed report on the protocol’s effectiveness. Thank you, everyone.

One by one, the members rose in silence, slowly filing out of the room. Soon, only Varennes remained, standing before the window, arms crossed behind his back, his face marked with concern.

Something told him things wouldn’t get better anytime soon. freēnovelkiss.com

Paris – Streets outside the Hunter Guild

Isaac walked through the lively streets of Paris, a warm croissant in hand, biting into it slowly as he moved. The morning sun was gentle, a sharp contrast to the tension that now lingered thick in the air.

Around him, people went about their business, carefree, unaware of the silent storm brewing in the dungeons. Isaac glanced at them briefly, a faint, almost nostalgic trace of envy flickering across his expression. That carefree life... was no longer his.

His thoughts drifted, darker, deeper, as he made his way toward the guild:

- "If both worlds go to war... whose body will I be in? Will I be Isaac, the human from this world? Or Mordred, the slave-turned-gladiator, the one who harbors a cold rage against the dragons? Which body... which identity... will dominate when the time comes to choose?"

These existential questions had long haunted him—but today, they felt dangerously real, as if the line between his two lives was beginning to blur. His chest tightened slightly at the thought. He quickly finished the croissant, swallowing both the last bite and his doubts, just as the familiar façade of the Hunter Guild came into view.

There, in front of the large glass doors, he noticed an unusual gathering. Several groups of young hunters—mostly rank E and F—waited nervously, exchanging anxious glances, whispered comments, and fidgety gestures.

He hadn’t even reached the door when one of them, a young man with an unmistakably adolescent face, immediately spotted him.

— Look, it’s Isaac! Isaac Mordred! he shouted, waving his hand. He’s here!

Isaac’s brows drew together slightly, caught off guard by the sudden attention. Before he could even react, a dozen hunters hurried toward him, their voices overlapping in a frantic tangle:

— Isaac! Do you already have a team? We’re looking for a rank C for today’s dungeon...

— Please join us! With the new protocol, we can’t go in without someone two ranks higher!

— We really need you—otherwise, the guild’s going to cancel our raid!

Isaac instinctively took a half-step back, overwhelmed by the palpable urgency in their voices. Their eyes were filled with both admiration and desperation—and for the first time in a long while, he fully grasped the impact of the Bureau’s new protocol. These young, mostly inexperienced hunters had lost their independence. Their survival now depended entirely on hunters like him.

Isaac calmly raised a hand, asking for silence. His voice was steady, reassuring, but firm:

— Easy, please. I understand the situation. But you need to realize I can’t be everywhere at once.

— We get that, replied a young woman with blond hair tied back in a ponytail, nervous but determined. But we really need someone like you. All the other C-ranks are refusing. They don’t want to risk their lives to protect novices...

Isaac sighed inwardly, grasping the complexity of the situation. Experienced hunters would be in high demand—but they would also be the first targets in the event of an ambush. The risk was high, far higher than these young novices could truly comprehend.

His eyes moved across the group. Young faces—some barely out of adolescence—all looked to him with a feverish hope, almost a silent plea.

— Let me think about it, he finally said in a gentle voice. I need to check in with the guild office first, see what they’ve planned for me today. Only then can I give you an answer.

The young hunters seemed to relax slightly, relieved to have at least that chance. They nodded in gratitude, allowing Isaac to finally step through the guild’s doors.

But the moment he entered, Isaac realized his life had just grown even more complicated. The protocol wasn’t just a security measure—it was now an added burden for the most capable hunters. And that weight now rested squarely on his shoulders.

Inside the guild, the atmosphere was just as tense as outside. Hunters clustered together in tight groups, exchanging anxious whispers.