Isaac, still under his forced identity of Mordred, watched the end of the fight with painful tension. His body trembled slightly with exhaustion, but his mind was strangely alert, electrified by the vision of Akane slowly leaving the sand of the arena to the thunderous cheers of the dragons.
A few minutes later, while the audience was still roaring with excitent at the prospect of the gladiatrix’s next clash with a dragon, Mordred felt a presence approaching his cell. His heart suddenly raced as he saw Akane through the bars, exhausted, bloodied but strangely dignified despite her condition.
Their eyes t in a silence charged with aning. She slowed her pace slightly, their eyes staring into each other’s, a brief but profound connection crossing the space between them. Slowly, a light, discreet but incredibly warm smile stretched Akane’s lips. This simple gesture, this silent acknowledgent of their shared struggle for survival, touched Isaac deeply.
It was the last image he saw of her before a strange, powerful and irresistible sensation suddenly seized him.
His mind was violently drawn out of this world.
Isaac awoke with a start, panting, his body sweating. He sat up abruptly in bed, his breathing jerky, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He was back ho, in his dingy Paris apartnt. The familiar silence, the comforting half-light of his room, everything seed strangely unreal after the brutal hell of the colosseum.
But before he could fully regain his senses, several notifications suddenly piled up before his eyes with rapidity, saturating his mind with new information:
[Ding!]
[Moonstone absorption successful].
[New skill obtained: "Dragon Hand" (active - level 1)]
Isaac stared at the translucent screen in front of him, intrigued and slightly anxious. The description imdiately appeared:
[Dragon Hand (active): level 1]
[Your dominant hand is temporarily covered in blue draconic scales, considerably boosting your attack power ( 50%) and enormously increasing your physical defense. Use limited to 60 seconds].
[Cost: 10 points of Mana]
Isaac stared at his hands curiously, already feeling a strange tingling under his skin. He slowly raised his right hand, watching in fascination as the thin but dense blue scales slowly began to erge beneath his epidermis.
They gradually grew, covering her hand and wrist, until they ford a natural protection that was both magnificent and disquieting.
The blue of the scales glistened softly in the dim light of his room, like a polished sapphire, each one as hard as tal but surprisingly light, like a second skin both resistant and supple.
Isaac slowly clenched his fist, feeling a new force, raw and savage, vibrate powerfully in his fingers.
[Ding!]
[Successful absorption of the physical stats of the Vouivre defeated by Mordred!]
- Sense: 22
- Dexterity: 21
The sensation was imdiate and intense. Isaac closed his eyes in shock as the sudden wave invaded his whole body. His senses suddenly scread, sharply heightened to a level he had never experienced before. The slightest sound, the slightest touch beca incredibly clear. He could clearly hear the regular rhythm of his sister Léna’s breathing in the next room, feel the night breeze glide subtly through the tiny gaps in the windows.
Her eyes, suddenly, perceived the slightest detail despite the darkness. Every speck of dust floating in the air seed sharp, precise, almost luminous. He slowly turned his attention to his fingers covered in blue scales, discovering an agility he didn’t know he had. Every movent was fluid, precise, perfectly controlled.
He rose slowly from his bed, fascinated by the new precision of his movents. A slight dizziness montarily overca him, a consequence of these sudden physical changes, but he quickly regained his balance, surprisingly stable on his feet.
"Fuck..." he murmured in an impressed breath. "So this is what it’s like to absorb a monster’s stats..."
The translucent screen in front of him displayed one last ominous notification:
[Ding!]
[An individual of great importance in the other world is now taking a particular interest in you].
Isaac’s heart leapt violently in his chest, as his mind imdiately recalled the disturbing, captivating gaze of the dragon princess in the stands. Her enigmatic smile, that disquieting curiosity about him... This otherworldly creature had clearly identified sothing in him, sothing he himself was still unaware of.
His gaze returned to the bluish scales on his right hand, glinting softly in the dim light of his room.
He murmured slowly, almost to himself, as if to convince himself once and for all:
- I don’t care what it ans. As long as it helps survive, I’ll take anything that cos along.
He knew full well that this power had mysterious and probably dangerous origins, but for now, all that mattered was getting stronger, whatever the price.
Isaac contemplated his draconic hand for a long mont, cautiously testing its mobility, admiring the fierce beauty of the blue scales. They were solid, robust, carrying a savage strength that instinctively appealed to him.
A sudden thought crossed his mind, charged with intense, confused emotion: Akane. He clearly saw again her discreet, warm smile, at once fragile and full of strength after her fight. This vision imdiately rekindled his fierce determination. Isaac realized at that precise mont that it was no longer just a matter of surviving: he was now going to face the arena and the dragons with a very different, more intense, more personal rage.
His strengthened body, his heightened senses, his newly acquired draconic hand... all this was now to serve a precise purpose.
He clenched his fists tightly, blue scales glinting faintly in the moonlight. The pain, the humiliation, the hardships endured in the other world suddenly took on a clear, precise aning. Never again would he be anyone’s helpless victim. Never again would he let himself be dominated without a fight.
Isaac took a deep breath, his heartbeat now steady and filled with a cold, implacable determination. He knew that the real battle was far from over.
He smiled slowly into the darkness, a hard, mature smile, fully aware of the sacrifices to co.
- No matter what," he murmured in a cold, confident voice, "I’ll be ready. Always ready.
That night, Isaac lay awake for a long ti, silently contemplating the transformation of his body, anticipating future battles.
Issac’s status panel:
[Status]
Na : Isaac
Race : Human
Hunter Rank : E
Statistics :
- Strength : 75
- Agility : 35
- Stamina: 62
- Sense : 49
- Dexterity: 50
- Intelligence: 23
- Mana : 20
Skills:
[Black Stone Skin (Active): level 2 ( 60% defense; 40% attack)]
[Dragon Hand (Active): level 1 ( 80% defense; 50% attack)]
[Earthquake (Active): level 1]
[18 dragon scales]
The next morning, Isaac rose at dawn, still reeling from the strange physical changes of the previous night. He silently observed his right hand, now able to cover itself at will with glistening blue scales, and felt a shiver of excitent and anxiety run down his spine.
This new-found power was exhilarating, but still insufficient to face the growing dangers he would encounter in the next world. He knew perfectly well that he had to strengthen his martial skills. His battle with the vulture had proved his limits. He absolutely had to beco more precise, faster, deadlier.
After a quick breakfast with Léna, Isaac left quickly, crossing Paris to the Guild office. He arrived in front of the discreet building housing the archives reserved for hunters and affiliated adventurers. He pushed open the door, entering the hall where an elderly, jaded-looking man greeted him with no particular enthusiasm.
- Isaac," he mumbled, barely looking up from an old book. What are you looking for today?
Isaac stepped forward, determined.
- I’m looking for manuals on sword techniques. Sothing precise and effective. Do you have those here?
The man raised an eyebrow slightly, then sighed.
- Follow .
Isaac followed the man into a large room filled with shelves covered with dusty, ancient books. The sll of old paper and worn parchnt wafted through the air. The old man absent-mindedly pointed to a shelf a little way off.
- Dig in there. You might find sothing to your taste.
Isaac approached slowly, his fingers gently running over the carefully aligned books. His gaze suddenly ca to rest on a dark-covered manual adorned with stylized golden lightning bolts. His heart leapt with familiar excitent.
He delicately reached for the ancient book, reverently reading the hand-lettered title in elegant calligraphy:
"The Lightning Kata - Oga School".
Intrigued, Isaac gently opened the book, quickly skimming the first few pages avidly. He imdiately recognized the nature of this teaching: it was a style based on a series of fast, unpredictable sword movents, focused on speed, precision and explosiveness.
"This style... it suits perfectly," he murmured, fascinated.
- It’s an old school," intervened the old man, noticing Isaac’s keen interest. The Oga school is renowned for its fast, ruthless style. But be careful, kid, it’s hard to master. It requires exceptional speed and sharp reflexes.
- I’m ready to train hard," Isaac replied without hesitation, determined.
The old man smiled slightly, nodding approvingly before turning away.
Isaac then carefully opened the manual, quickly flipping through the illustrated pages that precisely described the basic movents of the Lightning Kata.
Each page was rich in detail, showing exact postures, angles of attack, precise trajectories of strikes, and above all, how to use internal force to maximize the speed of the blows.
One sentence in particular caught his attention, inscribed in black ink at the top of a page:
"Lightning does not wait. It strikes without hesitation or remorse. The sword must beco lightning: fulgent, precise, implacable."
Isaac felt a determined smile slowly stretch his lips.
"That’s exactly what I need..." he murmured to himself, carefully closing the book.
After asking permission, he took the manual with him. Back at ho, he spent the next few hours relentlessly morizing every position, every transition, every nuance described. His body reacted instinctively, recognizing almost imdiately the kata’s deadly logic, as if it had been tailor-made for him.
The more he practiced, the more he felt a perfect symbiosis developing between himself and the katana. The swift, fluid blade seed a natural extension of his arm, and his movents beca sharper, more precise, more rciless.
As the hours ticked by, Isaac could clearly feel the impact of his new, improved stats. His heightened senses enabled him to accurately detect the smallest details around him, instinctively anticipating every move.
His enhanced dexterity guided each gesture with surgical precision.
- Lightning strikes without warning," he repeated over and over as he reproduced the kata movents with increasing ease. The sword is my lightning, fast and relentless. I am lightning. Fast. Precise. Without hesitation.
As he repeated this samurai mantra, his mind cald, focusing solely on the perfection of his movents. Isaac gradually forgot everything else: the dragons, the pain, the suffering of the arena, his doubts and anxieties. At that very mont, all that mattered was the intimate link between himself, his katana and that lightning kata.
Isaac slowly wiped the sweat from his forehead, his muscles burning with the intense, but extrely satisfying effort. The katana still rested perfectly balanced in his hand, like a natural extension of his body. In front of him, the open manual of the Oga school’s Lightning Kata lay delicately on a small, worn table.
Every detail of the movent, every foot placent, every posture had been etched into his mory with almost obsessive precision.
- The sword strikes like lightning, without hesitation or regret", he murmured once more to himself, repeating the mantra inscribed in the ancestral manual.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly closed his eyes, clearly visualizing the movents he had just morized.
His muscles tensed briefly, ready to unleash the power contained in a single, decisive movent. Then, abruptly, his eyes opened with ferocious determination.
In one fluid movent, Isaac leapt forward, blade lashing out with lightning speed and precision. The katana split the air with a shrill whistle, describing a perfect arc before instantly returning to its initial position.
The movent was so fast, so precise, that it seed to have split the air itself. Isaac slowly opened his eyes again, a satisfied smile on his lips.
This was exactly what he’d been looking for.
[Ding!]
[You have mastered the first Lightning Kata of the Oga School: "Raijin no Kata: Shidensen" (level 1)]
Isaac imdiately felt a new sense of mastery, confidence and precision take root deep within him.
He gazed in fascination at the notification floating before his eyes, carefully absorbing the information of the skill he had just acquired:
[Lightning Kata - Oga School: "Shidensen" (level 1)]
Rapid technique consisting of a single lightning strike of extre precision and speed. Inspired by the fulgurance of lightning, the attack strikes in a straight line with extre speed, making it extrely difficult to dodge. The more dexterity and sense the user gains, the more precise and deadly the attack becos.
Isaac smiled slowly, satisfied. The direct link between this new skill and his increased stats was now obvious to him. The combination of his heightened senses ( 22) and his recently increased dexterity ( 21) made this technique particularly effective.
He then got into position, concentrated as never before, to repeat the precise Shidensen movent over and over again, fine-tuning every detail, every breath, every gesture until he achieved an almost supernatural fluidity.
Finally exhausted, but proud of himself, Isaac gently sheathed his katana. He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, feeling the pleasant fatigue of a perfectly successful workout.
"If I master this technique in the other world, I’ll have a huge advantage," he thought with conviction, his mind drifting to the vouivre, the coliseum, and above all to Akane, her gaze burning with determination and strength after her tenth victory.
Isaac now clearly knew what he had to do: train relentlessly, perfecting every gesture, every breath, until this legendary kata beca second nature.
Because in just two days’ ti, Mordred would have to return to the arena.
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