Starting out as a Dragon Slave

The tension in the air was almost palpable, saturated with burning mana and icy determination. Isaac stared at Akane, his fists clenched around the hilt of his katana until his knuckles turned white, his heart hammering in his chest in a desperate rhythm. In front of him, the warrior stood upright, motionless like a marble statue, her eyes once sparkling with life now empty, absent, like two bottomless pits. Her movements, jerky and mechanical, betrayed the cruel grip of the slave collar encircling her neck like a metallic serpent. The blade in her hand glowed faintly, a silver reflection dancing on the cracked ground like a grim omen.

Naesha, a few meters away, moved with spectral grace, her steps making no sound on the cold stone, as if she were merely an ethereal manifestation of death. Her daggers, poised to strike like venomous fangs, caught the few rays of light that filtered into the oppressive hall. Isaac knew his time was running out. Every second that passed was another wave of suffering for Akane, another root Belgaroth planted deeper into her enslaved mind.

- "Isaac... we have to neutralize her," Naesha whispered, her piercing eyes analyzing Akane’s micro-movements with the precision of a predator. "She’s not herself anymore. She’s just a puppet of flesh and bone."

- "No... she’s not a puppet," Isaac replied in a low voice, vibrating with unyielding conviction, his eyes lighting up with an intense orange glow like a setting sun. "She’s there... trapped somewhere. We just have to break her chains."

Akane attacked in chilling silence. Her body cut through the air, swift as a silver serpent, her blade tracing a perfect arc that whistled with a deadly melody. Isaac parried with a fluid, almost instinctive motion, the metal resonating in a sharp crack that sent sparks dancing around them. She didn’t hesitate for a fraction of a second, pivoting with supernatural agility, chaining a horizontal slash with surgical precision that would have slit the throat of any less vigilant opponent. Isaac evaded, his movements calculated to the millimeter, his muscles strained to the breaking point under the effort.

- "You haven’t changed..." he murmured to himself, his eyes following her with a painful melancholy in every step, every strike, recognizing behind the empty mask the one he once knew.

Akane accelerated. Her saber cut through the air with disconcerting speed, her attacks flowing in an uninterrupted deadly symphony. Isaac deflected, parried, stepping back, but still refused to truly retaliate. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he exhaled a sigh weighted with infinite sadness.

- "Alright..." he finally said, as if accepting the inevitable.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his katana, his fingers curling around the cold steel with newfound resolve. He closed his eyes for a brief moment an eternity compressed into a second and when he reopened them, his pupils glowed with incandescent orange, like molten lava. The air around him subtly vibrated, the atmosphere charged with a slight electricity that made the hairs on one’s skin stand up.

Akane rushed at him again, her feet barely touching the ground with supernatural lightness, as if gravity were merely a suggestion to her. Her saber rose, ready to slice through flesh and bone, but this time, Isaac did not evade. His body transformed, becoming translucent, ethereal like a ghostly mist, the blades passing through him without resistance as if he were no longer anchored in the physical world. [Intangibility].

Akane did not slow, unperturbed, but her strikes found no target, slicing through the spectral veil Isaac had become. Through this immaterial form, he observed her movements with painful attention, calculating each step, each rotation, each breath. His heart clenched at the thought of what he had to do, but he knew there was no other path.

- "I’m sorry, Akane..."

He exhaled softly, abandoning his immaterial form, his body returning to tangible reality in a subtle shimmer, and his katana sliced through the air with blinding speed, tracing a perfect line of silver light before colliding with Akane’s blade in an explosion of blue sparks. The impact sent both fighters back a meter, the ground cracking beneath their feet, a testament to the violence of the clash. Isaac granted himself no reprieve, chaining a series of precise strikes, his movements now more aggressive, more calculated, each blow carved by years of painful experience.

Akane matched the infernal rhythm he imposed. Her eyes, still empty like two bottomless abysses, remained fixed on him, her movements fluid, controlled, like a perfectly calibrated war automaton. Her attacks grew more precise, faster, as if something within her instinctively reacted to Isaac’s every motion, a muscle memory that even Belgaroth’s grip couldn’t entirely erase. The two blades clashed with growing violence, the metallic echoes resonating in the hall like the cries of predatory birds.

Akane offered him not a moment of respite. She charged again, her blade vibrating in the air like a taut string ready to snap, tracing lines of shimmering steel before his eyes. He deflected, parried, but each strike grew faster, more precise, more vicious, as if the force controlling Akane was growing impatient.

Then, suddenly, something changed. Her rhythm accelerated abruptly, her silhouette becoming blurry, a deadly mirage, her movements so fast they seemed to layer in distinct temporal phases. Isaac instinctively stepped back, his arms numbed by the intensity of the strikes that resonated deep into his bones. Akane continued her relentless assault without pause, her blade drawing deadly arcs through the air, forcing him to yield ground, again and again.

She’s going to overwhelm me... he thought, his arm muscles trembling under the repeated impacts that threatened to shatter his guard.

It was then that he felt a familiar warmth spreading along his veins like a river of liquid fire, an electric shiver running down his skin from the nape of his neck to his fingertips. His mana pulsed, vibrating painfully under the strain, but Isaac stopped fighting this primal force. He let it rise, welcomed it, let it invade his muscles, his nerves, his bones to the core.

A white, almost spectral glow lit up along his arms, then descended to his legs in luminous filaments. His vision transformed, becoming clearer, sharper, every movement of Akane unfolding with supernatural clarity in space-time. The world seemed to slow around him, submerged in liquid amber. Akane’s strikes, previously blurred, now became distinct, readable, almost predictable in their deadly trajectory.

"[Instinctive Awakening]," he murmured to himself, invoking that wild part of him that had long slumbered.