Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 28 - : The coliseum

Mordred awoke slowly, a metallic taste filling his mouth. A dull pain wracked his skull, and every muscle in his body seemed to protest in unison against his every movement. He painfully opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the oppressive darkness surrounding him.

A rancid smell of sweat, dried blood and filth invaded his nostrils. He was lying on a cold stone slab, his bruised back pressed against an irregular wall, without a single blanket to soften the hardness of the floor. The air was heavy, stifling, charged with an almost palpable tension. He could hear heavy breathing, discreet murmurs and the steady clanking of chains.

Slowly, he raised his head and surveyed his new surroundings.

He was locked in a cell more cramped than those in the slave dormitory, but far more sinister. The walls were rough stone, damp and covered with dark streaks that resembled dried blood. Thick, reinforced bars closed the only exit, and beyond, he could see other similar cells lined up in what looked like a long underground prison corridor.

But that wasn't what immediately caught his attention.

The prisoners.

Here, they were different from the exhausted, starving slaves he'd encountered in the mine. The men who shared his cell were far more imposing, their bodies marked by years of struggle and survival. Some had gnarled muscles, developed by incessant fighting rather than back-breaking work. Others bore deep scars, evidence of ancient confrontations. Their gaze was not deadened like that of the slaves in the barracks; on the contrary, a dangerous gleam shone in their eyes, that of beasts ready to bite at the slightest provocation.

Mordred swallowed slowly, his instincts immediately warning him that he was no longer simply a slave thrown into the hell of forced labor. He was now in an entirely different world, one where weakness meant death.

A dark-skinned man with arms as thick as wooden beams stared silently at him, leaning against the wall in front of him. His shaven head gleamed in the harsh light of a torch hanging outside the cell, and a hideous gash crossed his face from arch to chin.

- A new one, eh..." he murmured in a deep, gravelly voice.

Mordred didn't answer immediately, assessing the situation, weighing the risks. In this prison, he was no longer just a weak, broken slave. But neither was he a confirmed fighter.

He was Isaac, an E-rank hunter, thrown into a weakened body, in an environment where any misstep could sign his death warrant.

Another prisoner, leaner but with sharp features and arms covered in tribal tattoos, burst out laughing as he struggled to his feet.

- This one won't last a day," he spat contemptuously. Dragons like to send fresh meat, but this one looks too damaged already.

Mordred ignored the provocation and leaned slowly against the wall, trying to analyze the situation with the little information he had. He observed the other cells, the dark silhouettes moving about them, the chains rattling with the movements of half-asleep prisoners. In the distance, he could hear the howling of another unfortunate... or perhaps a hungry beast.

- Don't you talk, kid?" asked the shaven-headed man, raising an eyebrow. Quiet ones either die quickly or bite harder than they should.

Mordred exhaled slowly and straightened his head slightly.

- I don't intend to die here," he replied simply, his voice hoarse with fatigue and pain.

The big man chuckled softly, his piercing gaze seeming to weigh the value of this statement.

- We'll see about that. Welcome to the Colosseum, kid. Here, you have two options: die like a dog, or learn to bite before you get eaten.

- Which is it?

- Every night, you're sent to fight monsters you've never seen before, and the more you win, the more powerful the monsters will be, and you're made to do this just for the amusement of the grandiose dragon people, HAHAHA don't faint when you see the dragon king, it might give you a shock.

The hours ticked away slowly in the oppressive darkness of the cell. Mordred, leaning against the cold wall, hadn't slept a wink. Sleeping here, surrounded by criminals, assassins and arena fighters, would have been suicide. He simply observed, listened and analyzed.

Some prisoners slept soundly, others remained alert, suspicious of one another. There was an unspoken hierarchy here, a law of the jungle where only the most ruthless survived.

Then, without warning, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. A massive figure loomed behind the bars. A dragon guard, another one, but this time dressed in heavier armor and a dark cape that gave him a more official air.

- Get up, you vermin," he growled as he jerked open the cell door with a metal key. It's time for your death.

A heavy silence settled over the cell. Some prisoners raised their heads in curiosity. Others simply shrugged, accustomed to such scenes.

Mordred rose slowly to his feet, stretching his aching limbs slightly. He knew that if he hesitated too long, the dragon-guard would not hesitate to drag him along by force.

- Did you sleep well, kid?" said the shaven-headed man with a smirk.

- Not really," replied Mordred as he stepped out of the cell, taking one last look around.

The dragon-guard grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him forward through the dark, damp corridor. The other cells scrolled past on either side, pairs of curious eyes watching him in silence.

They climbed a narrow staircase hewn out of the stone, the walls becoming less rough as they went. Finally, a solid metal door opened onto a well-lit room, its walls covered with rudimentary weapons and armor.

The armory.

The place reeked of leather oil, metal and sweat. Several other prisoners, all destined for battle in the arena, were already there, some trying on pieces of armor, others sizing up the weapons hanging on the racks.

The dragon-guard pushed Mordred further into the room.

- Stand over there," he ordered sharply. Let's see if you look like something other than a bag of bones in those rags.

An imposing man with tanned skin, probably a human, approached with a blasé air. His leather apron was covered with burn marks and scratches. He was undoubtedly the armorer responsible for the gladiators' equipment.

- Average height, muscles in shambles... Ever worn protective gear, kid?" asked the man without looking up.

- More than you think," replied Mordred, crossing his arms.

The armorer blew loudly and grabbed a set of reinforced leather which he threw in front of him.

- Put this on. It's not metal, but at least you'll have a chance of not dying on the first blow.

Mordred grabbed the pieces of armor and slipped them on quickly. The leather, though aged, hugged his body with a lightness that pleased him. He preferred it to the heavy steel plates that hindered mobility.

The dragon-guard watched him with a mocking sneer.

- It won't do you much good if you don't know how to handle a weapon. So take your pick.

Mordred slowly turned his head towards the weapons rack, detailing every blade, every axe, every mace. There was everything: short swords, daggers, spears, bows... but his gaze came to rest on a thin, black blade, slightly longer than the others.

A katana.

He slowly reached for the scabbard and drew the blade. It was heavier than it looked, but perfectly balanced. The almost matte black steel barely reflected the light of the torches hanging on the walls.

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freewebnσvel.cøm.

He twirled it slightly in his hand, testing the grip. A familiar, almost reassuring sensation ran through his arm. He may not have been at the top of his game here, but this weapon... it suited him.

- This one," he declared without hesitation.

The dragon-guard raised an eyebrow before sneering.

- A katana, eh? A slave with refined tastes... Whatever. You won't have long to enjoy it.

He snapped his fingers, and two more guards entered the room.

- Now that you're equipped, let's see if you can stand up for more than a few minutes in the arena. Get ready, it's almost showtime.

Mordred tightened his grip on the katana, a shiver running down his spine.

The arena awaited him.