Starting out as a Dragon Slave

The room seemed to close in around them, the atmosphere heavy with Belgaroth’s overwhelming presence and the rumbling flames of his aura. But for Isaac, all this slowly faded away, dissolving into the blur of memories. Before him, Akane stood straight, shoulders slightly forward, legs bent in a perfect combat posture. Her breathing was calm, regular, her fists rising gently, maintaining a perfectly mastered guard.

It was no longer the slave with empty eyes that he saw. It was the warrior she had been, that indomitable fighter he had observed from the stands, that living flame in the arena, defying monsters and gladiators with deadly grace.

Isaac clenched his fists, holding back a shiver that ran down his spine. I cannot hit her... he thought, but deep down, he knew he would have no choice.

- "Isaac, focus," whispered Naesha behind him, her voice low and tense.

He nodded, taking a deep breath. Akane didn’t move. Her eyes were empty, but her body... her body remembered. She was there, somewhere under this cursed hold, locked in her own chains.

Without warning, she leapt forward, her feet seeming not even to touch the ground. Isaac raised his arms in a cross, blocking the first blow that exploded against his forearms. The power of the impact made him step back a few centimeters, his muscles trembling under the impact. She hasn’t lost anything... he thought, gritting his teeth.

Akane didn’t give him time to catch his breath. She turned on herself, her foot describing a perfect arc that split the air with millimetric precision. Isaac tilted his head, dodging by a hair’s breadth, but already, she followed up with a lightning hook, her fists cleaving space with methodical violence. He parried, deflected, absorbing the blows without striking back.

- "What are you doing?!" exclaimed Naesha, her voice betraying slight panic. "She’ll destroy you if you just keep defending!"

- "I can’t... I can’t," he whispered between parries.

But Akane wasn’t slowing down. Each blow delivered, each movement executed reminded Isaac of the long battles she had fought in the arena. Her technique was perfect, a deadly ballet of direct strikes, subtle dodges, precise attacks. Her style hadn’t changed. Despite the chains, despite the humiliation, her body remembered every sequence, every step, every block.

She moved closer, gliding across the floor like a shadow, and her hands began to dance before her. Isaac narrowed his eyes. He knew this movement. It was the same one she used to disorient her opponents in the arena: a series of false strikes, quick, seemingly disordered, but carefully calculated to create an opening. freewebnøvel.coɱ

The first blow came, fast as lightning. Isaac blocked it with his elbow, but Akane pivoted on herself, her foot rising for a circular kick that crashed against his guard. The impact resonated in his arms, and Isaac felt his breath briefly cut off. She’s not holding back anything...

A flash came back to him: Akane in the arena, her fists smashing the ribs of a Northern colossus, her feet sweeping the ground to throw a gladiator twice her size. Her ability to chain movements, to destabilize her opponents through the fluidity of her movements, was intact.

She accelerated. Isaac parried, dodged, but still didn’t counter-attack. Naesha, standing back, observed, her daggers ready, but she seemed to hesitate. Isaac merely deflected the blows, his breath growing heavier as the impacts continued.

- "Damn it, Isaac!" shouted Naesha. "Hit her! She’s going to kill you!"

But Isaac couldn’t. Not her. Not Akane.

A straight punch flew directly at his face. Isaac avoided it just in time, feeling the air whistle against his cheek. Akane didn’t pause. She spun around, her right foot rising with the precision of a guillotine. Isaac intercepted the blow, his two forearms absorbing the shock. The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly, and a wave of pain ran through his arms.

She’s stronger than before... he realized, astonished. Her raw power, once impressive, seemed to have been multiplied tenfold. The collar around her neck pulsed gently, runes illuminating with each blow she delivered. Isaac then understood: Belgaroth made her more powerful... at the cost of her freedom.

- "Akane!" he suddenly shouted, breaking the rhythm of the fight.

She didn’t stop. Her eyes, empty, betrayed no emotion, no memory. Just an imposed, mechanical will. Isaac absorbed a new sequence, his feet sliding slightly on the ground, but he still didn’t strike back. Each impact resonated within him, reviving memories of their training sessions, of her fierce fights in the arena.

- Why... why must I fight against you?

An uppercut split the air. Isaac avoided it just in time, but the kick that followed hit him squarely in the chest, throwing him backward. He straightened up immediately, his incandescent eyes fixing on Akane with an icy determination.

- "I won’t hit you," he whispered, his fists clenched. "But I will get you out of there."

She didn’t respond, her fists rising again, her posture perfect, flawless. The collar pulsed, and Isaac felt a new surge of power run through Akane’s body.

- "Akane... if you can hear me, I’m sorry..." he whispered, his eyes burning with an intense orange glow. "But I will free you from this monster, whatever it costs me."

A heavy silence settled, broken only by their heavy breathing and the distant echoes of the titanic battle between Lazare and Belgaroth.

The air had thickened around them, saturated with electrical tension, each breath charged with contained violence. Isaac and Akane stared at each other, eyes plunged into each other’s, two inexorable wills ready to clash. But it wasn’t just a fight. It was a confrontation of convictions, of shared pain, of unspoken love and broken promises.

Isaac exhaled slowly, his fingers sliding along the hilt of his katana. The metal whispered softly as he drew it, the gleam of the blade dancing under the faint lights of the dungeon. The familiar weight of the weapon in his hand, the perfect balance, all of it brought him back to his warrior roots. His gaze hardened, his orange pupils burning with an icy determination.

Akane, for her part, also drew her weapon again.

A thin, elegant blade, slightly curved, designed for precise and lethal strikes. Isaac narrowed his eyes, recognizing in her gestures a new fluidity, a blend of techniques she didn’t have before. It was a hybrid style, a marriage between sharp fencing and the brutal, effective style learned in the arena.

She stepped forward with measured pace, her blade tracing light circles in the air, as if drawing the contours of their combat. Each movement was precise, controlled, with an almost supernatural fluidity. Isaac had never seen Akane move this way. It was a perfected art of war, sublimated by the draconic imprint that Belgaroth had imposed on her.

Silence weighed heavily before everything triggered.

She attacked.

Her blade descended upon Isaac in a flash of pure steel, fast as lightning, cleaving the air with surgical precision. Isaac deflected the blow with a supple movement of his wrist, feeling the impact vibrate along his blade. Akane pivoted without a word, her feet sliding perfectly on the ground, chaining a series of fluid, cutting strikes, without the slightest space between each blow.

She’s faster... and more precise than before, realized Isaac, his muscles stretched to the extreme.

He parried, dodged, absorbed the impacts. Each blow delivered by Akane was a model of technique and power. Her blade never trembled, her body never faltered. It was a deadly dance, a perfectly executed ballet. Isaac struggled to keep up with the rhythm, feeling his forearms vibrate under the intensity of the strikes.

- "She won’t give up, Isaac!" shouted Naesha from the shadows, her daggers ready to intervene.

"I know!" he replied between two exchanges of blades, short of breath. "But I have to bring her back... I have to bring her back!"

Akane didn’t react to his words. Her face remained frozen, cold, emotionless. Belgaroth’s invisible chains pulled at her will, dictated each gesture, each strike. Isaac knew it. She wasn’t responsible for this violence. And yet, she didn’t hesitate. The precision of her attacks, the rhythm of her movements, everything was perfect, as if he were facing a steel automaton.

She went on the offensive with a series of upward strikes, her saber whistling through the air in a deluge of metallic flashes. Isaac parried, deflected, dodged. But each blow was followed by another, faster, more fluid. Akane moved like an invisible wind, her feet gliding across the floor with supernatural lightness.

Isaac felt a slight cut on his cheek. A trickle of warm blood flowed slowly, tracing a scarlet line on his skin. She had struck faster than he had anticipated. His heart tightened, not from pain, but from deep sadness. She’s stronger than ever... but it’s not her. It’s not the real Akane.

She turned, her saber describing a perfect circle around her, before descending upon him again. Isaac countered brutally, the clash of blades releasing a wave of force that made the walls around them vibrate. She didn’t slow down. Her left foot stepped back, and she followed up with a twirling movement, striking with supernatural speed, forcing Isaac to retreat several steps.

Their rhythm intensified. Blows rained down, fast, precise, deadly. Isaac parried, dodged, blocked, feeling his muscles heat up under the effort. He held back each of his blows, always avoiding targeting vital points. He knew perfectly well that he didn’t need to fight this way, that he could stop her... but something within him held him back.

Each impact, each exchange of steel, revived painful memories within him. Their training fights in the arena, her mocking smiles when she made him fall, the discreet bursts of laughter they shared when she gained the advantage. It was more than a fight, it was a reminder of everything they had shared. And today, she was nothing but a shadow of herself.

- "Akane!" he shouted, his pupils shining with a more intense orange. "Wake up, I beg you!"

She didn’t hesitate for a second, her blade cleaving the air in a deadly whistle. Isaac deflected the attack, feeling the raw force behind the blow. She was fast, terribly fast. Her movements were fluid, chaining strikes like a torrent rushing down a mountain, without stopping, without failing.

Naesha slipped into the shadow, looking for an opening, but Akane seemed to anticipate each of her movements, repositioning herself at each attempt, forcing Isaac to focus on defense.

"We can’t stop her without breaking that collar!" growled Naesha, her daggers faintly gleaming.

- "I know... I know..." whispered Isaac, his voice trembling slightly.

His heart tightened with each blow delivered, each deflected strike. He couldn’t... he didn’t want to hurt her. But she, under Belgaroth’s influence, didn’t know this restraint. Her saber flew through the air, seeking weak points, forcing Isaac to his limits.

I don’t want to hurt you... but I can’t let you destroy me either... he thought, his eyes burning more and more intensely.

For the first time, Isaac tightened his grip on his blade. He knew he would have no other choice. If he wanted to free her, if he wanted to save her... he would have to defeat her.

Forgive me, Akane...