Starting out as a Dragon Slave

— Departure in five minutes.

Lazare’s voice rang through the prep room, clear and final like the chime of a blade against crystal. It wasn’t a tone that invited discussion, but a statement that set time into motion. Isaac noted the immediate effect it had on the team: spines straightened, gazes sharpened, hands made last checks on gear straps.

The Phantom Unit moved out with a silent efficiency that impressed Isaac. No nervous chatter, no forced jokes to mask tension only the quiet rustle of adjusted equipment and the metallic click of weapons being secured. Every member seemed mentally prepared to depart the moment the command was given, as if waiting had only been a procedural formality.

Isaac, still ill at ease in this new environment, felt the painful dissonance between their organic cohesion and his status as an outsider. His movements felt awkward by comparison too conscious, too deliberate. He followed Lazare in silence through a maze of corridors with understated anthracite-gray walls, punctuated by holographic symbols denoting the various sections of the guild.

The air grew noticeably cooler as they descended deeper into the building. The faint hum of ventilation systems gave way to a particular kind of silence the silence of spaces too well-insulated. Isaac recognized the distinct sensation of a high-security zone, that subtle pressure on the eardrums, as if even the air knew it was being contained.

They finally reached a massive door outlined by a faint blue halo biometric recognition coupled with intrusion wards. The door opened without Lazare having to move a finger, as though the building itself acknowledged its master.

A vast hangar stretched out before them, its impressive dimensions obscured by a play of shadows and lighting. The ceiling, surprisingly high for an underground facility, vanished into orchestrated darkness. Directional lights highlighted only what needed to be seen, leaving equipment and vehicle silhouettes to linger like ghosts in the gloom. freewebnøvel.com

At the center of this theatrical scene awaited their transport, its engine emitting a purr so soft it resembled controlled breathing more than machinery. This was no standard armored van like those used by mid-tier guilds for tactical deployment this was a masterpiece of advanced military engineering.

Roughly eight meters long, the armored vehicle had aggressive aerodynamic lines that suggested serious speed despite its obvious mass. Its light-absorbing black body was covered in subtly embossed geometric patterns defensive runes disguised as aesthetic flourishes for untrained eyes. Isaac noticed the iridescent sheen sliding across the surface when hit at certain angles by light, revealing magical shielding woven directly into the material.

No logos. No identification marks. Even the windows, pitch black, absorbed light rather than reflecting it. A vehicle built not just to transport, but to erase any trace of its existence.

The rear of the vehicle opened in a perfectly silent glide no hydraulic hiss as Isaac had expected. It was as if the material moved by sheer will, revealing an interior that stood in sharp contrast to its sober exterior.

The cabin resembled an ultramodern mobile command center. Two rows of ergonomic black composite seats faced each other, each equipped with silver-hued harnesses that pulsed faintly protection enchantments calibrated to automatically sync with the user’s mana flow upon impact. Along the side walls, individual weapon racks awaited, each slot labeled in glowing runes with its owner’s name.

High-definition tactical screens covered every available surface, displaying a flood of real-time data: topographical maps of target zones, mana concentration analysis, portal activity reports, and creature threat profiles. The data danced like living constellations across the screens, constantly reorganizing according to predictive algorithms.

At the far end of the cabin, a larger communications station hummed quietly, its multiple antennae folded against the ceiling. Isaac recognized the distinctive design of Bureau-grade terminals devices capable of maintaining signal even in zones of high magical interference, directly linked to tactical satellites in orbit. Equipment most A-rank guilds couldn’t even dream of affording.

The cockpit was separated from the main compartment by an opaque black armored partition, creating total isolation. Whoever was driving wasn’t just physically separated but most likely shielded magically and psychically as well an extreme precaution, revealing the sensitive nature of the unit’s usual missions.

The team settled in with the ease of routine. Each member seemed to have a designated spot a personal territory within this confined space. Isaac hesitated for a moment, acutely aware of being the disruptive element in this well-oiled choreography.

Naesha, who had slipped into the vehicle like a shadow, seated herself in a slightly isolated corner, her expression as unreadable as ever. Beside her, one seat remained empty. Isaac moved toward it instinctively, drawn to the space that seemed to wait for him.

He sat between Naesha, whose silence felt almost tangible, and one of the men with a closed-off expression who didn’t even turn his head to acknowledge him. The message was clear: tolerated, but not yet accepted.

The accidental brush of his elbow against Naesha’s earned him a strange sensation like a faint electric jolt that traveled up his arm.He couldn’t tell if it was an effect of her equipment, but she didn’t react, her gaze fixed on some invisible point ahead. Still, Isaac thought he detected a faint tension in her posture.

Once everyone was seated, the vehicle moved with a smoothness that was unsettling for something of its mass. The doors sealed shut, cutting off all exterior noise instantly. The insulation was so perfect, Isaac might as well have been in space.

The ambient light shifted imperceptibly to a calming blue-gray hue, reducing eye fatigue while maintaining optimal visibility the kind of attention to detail that marked elite-level gear.

Lazare stood at the center of the cabin, perfectly balanced despite the vehicle’s motion, one hand casually hooked on a ceiling-mounted grip. Unlike the other passengers, whose bodies instinctively compensated for the transport’s subtle shifts, he remained motionless as if gravity itself adjusted to him rather than the other way around.

Isaac noticed that even in this seemingly relaxed posture, Lazare maintained perfect equilibrium. His body betrayed no tension, no effort to counteract the forces at play. It was as if he existed in a different frame of reference, untouched by physical laws.

— Alright, he said, his voice calm but pitched with deliberate resonance that carried effortlessly to every corner of the cabin. While we’re en route, I want everyone to listen to Isaac. He’s the only one here who’s seen a dragon up close and come back. Isaac, tell us what you saw and don’t hold anything back.

The words "seen a dragon up close" echoed in the confined space, heavy with meaning. Every gaze turned to Isaac, like spotlights snapping onto him at once.

Even those who had previously shown skepticism were now watching with a new intensity a mix of professional curiosity and primal apprehension. Shadow hunters could feign indifference, but the mention of dragons awakened something ancient a buried, instinctive fear that echoed through shared memory.

Isaac straightened slightly, adjusting his posture to meet their attention. He’d replayed this story in his head hundreds of times since the incident, but speaking it aloud to an audience this capable was different. These weren’t detached bureaucrats or empathetic psychologists they were predators, trackers, trained to sniff out lies and exaggeration. He could feel their sharpened senses parsing every syllable.

— It was... massive, he began, his voice low and slightly hoarse, as if rising from a place deep within.

He paused, searching for the right words.

— Its body was covered in black scales but not uniformly black. They shimmered with red undertones that... didn’t gleam like ordinary metal. It was more organic, more alive. Like embers still glowing beneath ash.

His fingers twitched involuntarily, as if trying to conjure the texture into the air.

— Its head was narrow, elongated not bulky like in the usual illustrations. And its eyes...

Isaac stopped again, swallowing hard. The memory of those eyes still triggered something visceral within him.

— God, its eyes. Slitted vertically, amber-yellow with violet streaks that seemed to... pulse. It wasn’t just looking at you. It was reading you. I felt like it knew every thought I had before I even formed it. Like it had access to a part of me I didn’t control.

A faint shiver coursed through Isaac despite the perfectly regulated cabin temperature. The stern-faced man who hadn’t acknowledged him earlier finally turned toward him, his expression softened by a new curiosity.

— Its voice? he asked his own surprisingly gentle, in contrast with his rugged appearance.

Isaac welcomed the question with a flicker of relief. The memory of the voice was terrifying, but less paralyzing than the eyes.

— Deep. Hissing. But not like a snake more like hot wind rushing through a narrow cavern. It vibrated. Almost like it resonated with your bones. You didn’t just hear its words — you felt them. In your chest. In your skeleton.

He unconsciously placed a hand on his sternum, as if to illustrate the phantom sensation.

— The worst part was... its voice was seductive. Even knowing it was a predator, something in it made you want to keep listening. Kind of like...

— Like an auditory drug, the red-haired woman interjected softly, her fingers pausing momentarily in the meticulous cleaning of her weapon.

Isaac nodded slowly, acknowledging the unexpected understanding.

Lazare, who hadn’t moved an inch, nodded as well, his calculating eyes recording every nuance of Isaac’s response.

— And its capabilities? he asked with clinical interest.

Isaac drew a deep breath, shifting into a more technical mindset. It was easier to talk about practical elements quantifiable things than subjective impressions.

— It flew, but not like birds or the flying monsters we normally encounter in dungeons. Its flight was... sovereign. Like gravity was just a suggestion it could choose to ignore. It also manipulated fire, but not crudely or explosively.

He paused again, searching for an apt comparison.

— It was precise. Surgical. Like each flame was a separate tool it could control individually. It knew exactly where to strike, when. At one point, it created a wall of fire that encircled two of my teammates but the flames didn’t consume them immediately. They advanced inch by inch, like they were prolonging the terror.

A collective shiver ran through the group subtle but unmistakable. The image evoked a calculated sadism that went far beyond simple predation.

— The most terrifying part was how he controlled the surrounding mana, Isaac said. Within a certain radius maybe fifteen, twenty meters he... suffocated it. Like he was absorbing or neutralizing all magical energy. My magical reflexes, the basic defensive spells we all trigger instinctively in danger — none of it worked. It felt like suddenly being amputated of a sense.

He turned slightly toward the man with ritual tattoos climbing up his neck the one he’d identified as a possible wielder of forbidden energies.

— And I think he could see through illusions. Shin, our illusionist, tried to cloak us... The dragon laughed. Not roared, not growled laughed. A sound so human it was obscene.

A tense murmur passed between two of the team members too quiet for Isaac to catch the words, but the tone alone was enough to understand their unease. Naesha, still stoic beside him, showed no visible reaction, yet her stillness had taken on a deeper quality as though she had become pure focus.

— Durability level? asked the tattooed redhead calmly, her fingers resuming their meticulous dance over the intricate mechanisms of her impulse sniper.

The question was asked with the clinical precision of a professional evaluating a technical obstacle, but Isaac could still sense the tension lurking just beneath her voice.

— Physical attacks felt almost... pointless. Our blades bounced off his scales like they were hitting reinforced metal. Energy projectiles were either absorbed or deflected by what looked like a natural protective field. I think it would take a very specific coordination to even hope to injure him maybe exploiting a precise anatomical weak point at the exact moment he activates certain abilities, when his attention is split.

Isaac paused, caught by a particularly painful memory.

— The worst part... was that he was playing with us. He could’ve killed us all in seconds, I’m sure of it. But he didn’t. He took his time. Like a cat waiting for the perfect moment to rip the wings off a fly. He seemed... amused.

That last word fell into the silent cabin like a stone. The idea of a creature so powerful regarding seasoned hunters as mere playthings was more chilling than any physiological description.

A heavy silence settled as each person processed the implications of his account in their own way. Finally, Lazare spoke, his voice steady and decisive:

— Good. Keep noting everything you sense once we’re in the dungeons. Every detail matters. Any energy fluctuation, any unusual creature behavior, even the faintest intuition I want it all.

Isaac noticed Lazare never questioned his account, never asked for proof or additional clarification. That apparent trust was either the result of a thorough prior vetting or the reflection of an impressive ability to read the truth on his own.

The rest of the ride passed in thoughtful silence, each team member seemingly immersed in their own mental preparations. Isaac watched them discreetly, observing their expressions, their subtle gestures. The tension emanating from them had shifted now more focused, sharper. His testimony had turned what might’ve felt like a routine mission into something much more significant.