Starting out as a Dragon Slave
Chapter 29: The Colosseum Part 2

Chapter 29: Chapter 29: The Colosseum Part 2

Mordred moved slowly down the dark corridor, following the dragon guards as they led him to his destiny. His heart pounded violently in his chest, a complex mixture of apprehension and fierce determination burning within him. His hand was firmly gripping the scabbard of the black katana he had just chosen. The presence of the weapon brought him a semblance of comfort, a faint but tangible connection with Isaac, the hunter.

At the end of the long, dark corridor, a large metal door decorated with draconic symbols slowly opened before him, letting in a blinding light. Mordred instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. His heart raced as he finally emerged into the vast arena.

He stopped dead in his tracks, impressed despite himself.

The arena was immense, stretching as far as the eye could see under a clear sky, with a floor entirely covered in fine ochre-colored sand, reminiscent of ancient arenas. Bleachers rose all around, capable of accommodating thousands of spectators. Torches, lined up along the high walls, burned brightly, diffusing a stifling heat and a strange smoky fragrance into the air.

Before long, the stands began to fill up. Majestic, immense dragons flew over the arena before landing gracefully. Mordred stood in awe of this fascinating and frightening sight.

Just before touching down, each dragon took on an elegant, imposing humanoid form. Their scales retracted, their wings disappeared and they strode with dignity towards ornate seats reserved for the most important beings.

The audience was clearly made up of an elite, richly dressed, adorned with glittering jewels, with faces imbued with obvious arrogance. Everyone made themselves comfortable, exchanging a few words in hushed tones as they waited for the show to begin.

Suddenly, a powerful, metallic sound burst through the air, a trumpet blaring to announce the arrival of royalty.

All eyes turned skyward as a colossal shadow suddenly enveloped the entire arena.

An immense black dragon slowly descended, towering over the other dragons. Its presence immediately commanded respect and fear, a terrifying aura emanating from every dark scale, faintly reflecting the sunlight. Accompanying him were three slightly smaller but equally impressive dragons, each a different color: silver, red and emerald.

Mordred felt a cold sweat slowly trickle down his temple as these creatures gently landed in the space reserved high up for the nobility. At the last moment, the immense black dragon metamorphosed fluidly into a man with deep black hair, dressed in sumptuous black and crimson garments.

The other three dragons did likewise, adopting their humanoid appearance with nonchalant, icy grace.

Silence filled the arena, everyone holding their breath.

The black dragon, now in human form, took a few steps forward. His domineering aura was palpable even from where Mordred stood. He slowly raised a hand, his dark eyes roaming the stands before coming to rest on the arena.

- Let the show begin! he declared in a powerful, deep, almost hypnotic voice.

At these words, an approving roar immediately resounded from the stands, the dragons stirring with excitement at the prospect of imminent violence.

Mordred swallowed hard. His heart was pounding in his chest, aware that all eyes were now fixed on him and the few gladiators condemned to fight today. He looked around at his fellow gladiators, equally anxious but determined to survive at all costs.

His hand trembled slightly around the hilt of his katana, but he tightened his grip.

Today, he would not die without a fight. No matter the haughty looks of the dragons, no matter their mockery or cruelty. Even if this arena was to become his tomb, Isaac categorically refused to enter as a resigned victim.

He slowly drew his black katana from its scabbard, the dark blade gleaming faintly under the blazing sun.

The sand crunched lightly beneath his feet as he adopted a familiar defensive posture, masterful, ready for battle.

The other gladiators around him did the same, their gazes serious, dark, resigned to kill or be killed.

- Let the games begin! shouted the deep, icy voice of the black dragon, echoing throughout the arena, marking the definitive start of the most brutal ordeal of his life.

And as the opposite arena doors slowly began to open,

A powerful voice suddenly echoed across the vastness of the arena, amplified by some unknown magic to reach all spectators clearly. The master of ceremonies, a dragon in human form dressed in a blood-red and gold tunic, stepped to the edge of a raised platform to address the crowd.

- Dear dragons, noble warriors and distinguished guests! Today, we are witnessing a particularly interesting battle, for we have among us a slave who has dared to openly defy the authority of his masters! he shouted in a theatrical, accusatory voice.

Isaac, under his imposed identity of Mordred, felt the cold stares of hundreds of dragons fall brutally upon him. He could feel their hatred, their contempt, and above all, their thirst for blood. The voice of the master of ceremonies continued, describing his imaginary crimes in a grandiloquent and exaggerated manner.

- Meet Mordred, an arrogant, insubordinate human! He has twice refused to do his duty, even daring to lay a hand on a dragon guard! This unforgivable act deserves exemplary punishment!

The stands suddenly exploded with shouts of rage, boos and insults hurled at him. Mordred remained motionless, his gaze fixed coldly in front of him. He refused to show them the slightest weakness.

- And here’s our human rebel’s first opponent: a vouivre from the Jorhal swamps! shouted the announcer, his voice vibrating with unhealthy excitement. This magnificent beast has never left an adversary alive, and this miserable slave will certainly be no exception!

No sooner had the word "vouivre" been uttered than a terrifying roar echoed through the entire arena, vibrating right into Mordred’s bones. The great iron gates at the opposite end of the arena swung open, releasing the monstrous creature, which entered the arena with terrifying savagery.

The vouivre was immense, a creature with a reptilian silhouette, lanky and muscular, some five meters long. Its scaly skin glowed a dark green, almost black, and its piercing yellow eyes immediately fixed Mordred with savage hunger. A pair of powerful wings, membranous and covered in red veins, flapped slowly behind her, throwing a dry wind across the arena sand.

The master of ceremonies’ voice burst out again, clearly delighted by the show that was about to begin:

- Let this slave understand today what the place of humans is in our world! he shouted with obvious pleasure.

Isaac drew in a deep breath, struggling to shake off the anxiety that threatened to paralyze him on the spot. He gripped the hilt of his black katana, slowly adopting a fighting stance. His fingers tightened firmly around the weapon, almost instinctively returning to his familiar hunter’s stance.

He murmured to himself, concentrating all his remaining energy in his battered body:

- So come on... My little points of easy absorption," he smiled.

Enthusiastic cheers rang out from the stands, accompanied by wild applause and mocking whistles at Mordred. The dragons seemed particularly delighted at the prospect of witnessing a swift and brutal massacre.

Isaac, in the guise of Mordred, ignored the scornful cries, focused solely on the mortal threat before him. His gaze quickly swept over the vulture. Its body, covered in shiny green scales, reflected the sun with a disturbing brilliance. Two immense wings beat the air nervously, sending gusts of sandy wind around her, raising small whirlwinds.

- Let the battle begin!" shouted the announcer, prompting enthusiastic howls from the dragons in the stands.

Without further ado, the vulture charged towards Mordred with staggering speed, its mouth wide open and its sharp claws projecting forward. Mordred felt his sharp hunter’s reflexes immediately take over. He leapt to the side, narrowly dodging the first savage assault.

- Oh, but the wretch is more agile than he looks! wondered the announcer, surprised by Isaac’s deft dodge.

An interested murmur ran through the stands.

Without giving Mordred the slightest respite, the vouivre swung around abruptly, sweeping the space in front of it with its massive tail bristling with bony spikes. Mordred immediately dived to the ground to avoid the lethal impact, then rose to his feet in a clumsy roll. He felt a sharp point graze his arm, opening a bloody gash.

- Oooooh! Almost!" exclaimed the presenter with amusement. Looks like our rebel doesn’t want to die right away after all!

Some dragons in the audience laughed loudly, mocking the human’s apparent weakness, while others stared at him with unhealthy interest, curious to see how long he could last.

Heart pounding, Mordred gripped the hilt of his black katana tightly.

He instinctively activated [Body of Black Stone], even though he knew that in this world he would derive no direct benefit from it, it nevertheless gave him the psychological assurance he needed to face this unequal combat.

The vulture roared again, frustrated by the unexpected agility of its prey. She suddenly spat a jet of acid green flames in his direction. Mordred rolled to the ground again, barely escaping the corrosive flames that immediately scorched the sand behind him.

- Look at that, what surprising agility!" exclaimed the presenter, pleasantly surprised. Perhaps this human will finally provide some entertainment for our majesty!

The crowd reacted with howls of joy at the spectacle, an unhealthy excitement rising to a crescendo at Mordred’s unexpected resistance.

Taking advantage of a brief opening, Mordred suddenly lunged at the vouivre. He drew his black katana with instinctive fluidity, immediately striking one of the beast’s front legs. The blade slid against the thick scales, leaving only a thin superficial gash.

- Ooh! He’s attacking!" shouted the presenter in an excited voice, almost surprised by this unexpected turn of events. Could he have a bit more guts than he looks?

An impressed roar ran through the arena. The dragons were now observing the scene with renewed curiosity, some seeming almost delighted that the fight was going on a little longer.

But the vulture was not at all amused by this resistance. It let out a furious howl before unleashing a series of frenzied, brutal blows, forcing Mordred to back away quickly. He dodged a first attack, then a second, and finally a third, but was thrown off balance by the power of the last blow, which grazed his torso, brutally tearing away the leather protecting his chest.

The audience immediately rejoiced at the sight of blood slowly running down Mordred’s skin.

- Magnificent reaction from the vouivre! exclaimed the euphoric presenter. The human tried to defend himself, but the beast immediately regained control!

Isaac, panting and wounded, tried to regain his composure by quickly observing the vouivre. He had underestimated the monster’s speed and ferocity. Every dodge became more difficult, every breath more painful. He knew he couldn’t hold out much longer.

Yet he clutched the handle of his katana again, categorically refusing to give up. Whatever happened, he would keep on fighting.

He slowly looked up at the vouivre, a slight, provocative smile on his lips, despite the searing pain that invaded his body.

- Do you think I’m going to fall that easily?" he murmured weakly, but with determination. We’re not done yet, you bastard...