Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 16 - : Registration

Isaac took a deep breath and pushed open the creaky door of the Raven's Guild. The inside was no more inviting than the outside: the air smelled musty, a mixture of sweat, cheap alcohol and cold tobacco. A few hunters were seated, hard-looking men and women in shabby armor, their weapons lying carelessly beside them. Some looked at him with indifferent eyes, others with a gleam of amused contempt.

One man, seated behind a shabby counter, barely raised his head as he saw him approach. Bald, his face scarred, a poorly extinguished cigar wedged between his lips, he looked more like a criminal than a guild leader.

- What do you want, kid?" he growled, without even looking up from his newspaper.

Isaac placed his hands on the counter, clenching his fists slightly.

- I want to register.

The man raised an eyebrow before bursting out laughing, a raucous, mocking laugh that drew the attention of several hunters.

- Hear that, Marco? The kid wants to sign up!

A colossus with tattooed arms, sitting nearby, chuckled as he raised his glass.

- Is he lost or what?

Isaac clenched his jaw but remained silent. He'd expected this kind of welcome.

The manager finally sighed and pulled a dusty old register from under the counter.

- Well, you look decided. Name?

- Isaac Mordred.

- Rank?

- F.

The man stopped writing and looked up in disbelief.

- Do you really want to sign up here with an F rank?

- I need dungeons. I don't care what the conditions are.

An evil smile stretched across the manager's face.

- Oh, yeah? In that case, welcome to the Raven's Guild.

He slid a form in front of him.

- Signature here. We take 70% of your winnings, you have no insurance and if you die in a dungeon, we forget about you the next day. Still up for it?

Foster grabbed the pen without hesitation and signed.

The man burst out laughing.

- You've got guts, I'll give you that. We'll see how long you last.

Isaac retrieved the registration paper and carefully placed it in his pocket. One more step had been taken, but it wasn't enough to calm the restlessness rumbling inside him.

The man behind the counter watched him for a moment before crushing his cigar in an ashtray overflowing with ashes and cigarette butts.

- You look like you're in a hurry.

Isaac didn't reply, merely held his gaze.

- Sorry to dash your dreams, but we're not sending you to a dungeon just yet.

He scribbled a few notes on a battered ledger, then looked up at him again.

- Come back here at 3pm. We'll assign you to a team.

Isaac nodded, containing the frustration bubbling up inside him. Waiting? He hated it. He was tired of feeling like a prisoner in his own body, eaten away by this strange hunger that wouldn't let go.

The receptionist looked at him doubtfully, before huffing and crossing his arms.

- Do you at least have equipment?

- I've got all I need.

The man arched a skeptical eyebrow, but didn't inquire further. He stamped the form, tore off a piece of paper and handed it to Isaac.

- Here. You're officially a crow now. Congratulations... or condolences, that's up to you.

Giggles erupted around them. Several hunters slumped on the guild's shabby sofas stared at him, amused by his presence.

Isaac didn't give them a single glance. He simply turned and left.

As soon as he passed through the door, he took a deep breath of the outside air. A smell of pollution and humidity filled his lungs.

Just a few more hours to kill.

His hands trembled slightly. He clenched them, trying to ignore the nagging sensation rising inside him. This hunger, this visceral urge to go hunting again... It wouldn't go away until he found a way to satisfy it.

He looked down at his forearm. The bluish scales weren't visible, hidden beneath his skin, but he knew they were there. Tangible proof that his body had already begun to change.

Isaac walked aimlessly through the streets of Paris, his mind invaded by a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. His registration was done, he was officially a member of the Raven's Guild. But this was only the first step.

Wait until the afternoon?

The idea was unbearable. His body tugged, his skin itched, as if something was trying to awaken inside him. He needed action. He needed to feel the adrenalin of combat.

He walked through several alleyways, hands deep in his pockets. His neighborhood was far from brilliant, but he had never paid attention to the misery that surrounded him. Yet today, every detail seemed clearer, sharper. The old man sitting against a wall, a plastic cup trembling in his bony hands. The shifting shadows of drug addicts wandering aimlessly, looking for a fix. The murmurs of young guys exchanging envelopes in a dark corner.

The world was rotten.

And he was going down with it.

A violent cramp ripped through his stomach.

- Fuck..." he muttered through clenched teeth.

He leaned against the nearest wall, one hand clutching his stomach. Hunger was coming back, stronger, more oppressive. He'd never known such a sensation. It wasn't a simple urge to eat. It was... deeper. More primal.

As if his own body was crying out for something he couldn't give it.

He closed his eyes, trying to control his breath. He couldn't lose control here, in the middle of the street.

A noise caught his attention.

A rustling, a muffled groan.

And voices.

- Stop struggling, bitch.

- Don't be like that, you like it, don't you?

- Shh, there's nobody here. Just the three of us...

Isaac stopped dead in his tracks.

His heart began to pound harder.

There, in the shadow of a narrow alleyway, three men encircled a frailer figure. A young girl, pressed against a filthy wall, her clothes torn. One covered her mouth, another held her wrists.

She was trembling.

She struggled weakly.

And then her gaze met Isaac's.

His eyes...

They were big, terrified.

And for a moment, he no longer saw the girl.

He saw the other one.

The girl from the barracks.

The one who'd asked him if he was all right.

The one who had whispered his name, "Mordred", with a gentleness that was almost unreal in this hellhole.

The one who... was going to be sent to the Colosseum.

Something exploded inside him.

Without thinking, he moved.

- Let her go.

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

The three men turned to him.

One of them squinted.

- Get lost, kid. None of your business.

Isaac didn't answer. He took a step forward.

The man covering the girl's mouth winced.

- Fuck, is he deaf or what?

- You want a slice, don't you?" sneered another. Too bad, it's already taken.

Isaac felt his blood boil.

Before he knew it, his body was moving.

In one swift movement, he grabbed a piece of broken wood from the ground and smashed it over the head of whoever was holding the girl's wrists.

CRACK.

The man screamed as he collapsed against the wall.

The other two reacted immediately.

- Bastard!

The one who appeared to be the leader pulled a knife from his belt and lunged at him.

But he was too slow.

Isaac pivoted, narrowly dodging the blade, and in one fluid motion, sent his right fist into the man's face.

A sinister crack sounded.

The man staggered backwards, blood pouring from his broken nose.

The third man, covering the girl's mouth, tried to pull her with him like a shield.

- Don't move where I can't reach! he shouted.

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Mistake.

Isaac crouched slightly, then leapt.

His fist shot out like a bolt of lightning and crashed into the man's stomach.

The impact was so violent that the man immediately spat out his breath, dropping the girl to her knees.

But Isaac didn't give her time to regain her composure.

He grabbed her collar and smashed her against the wall.

- You're nothing but trash," he breathed, his voice trembling with rage.

The man opened his mouth to reply-but Isaac struck again.

Again.

Again.

Until his face was a bloody pulp.

He felt something move inside him.

His right arm tingled, his scales wanting to come out.

No. Not now.

He clenched his fist and forced himself to breathe.

The other two were already down, groaning in pain.

The girl was huddled against the wall, trembling.

Isaac knelt down in front of her, trying to calm his own breathing.

- Are you all right?" he asked in a softer voice.

She gasped slightly, then nodded, her eyes misty with tears.

He held out a hand.

She hesitated.

Then, slowly, she took it.

And for a brief moment, Isaac felt a little of that burning rage subside.

Just a little.