Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 15 - : Raven’s Guild

The bluish light of his phone screen flickered in the darkness of his bedroom. Isaac was slumped on his bed, one arm folded under his head, the other holding his old phone whose battery threatened to give up the ghost at any moment.

He was scouring the forums, newsgroups and classified ads of the Bureau des Chasseurs. Every major guild had strict entry requirements. Hunters of rank E or F were not even considered.

He bit the inside of his cheek nervously, frustrated.

He couldn't waste time.

Ever since his return from the nightmare that was the other world, something was wrong. He felt... empty.

He had to go back to a dungeon.

He didn't know if it was the energy of the monsters, the thrill of battle, or the power of the moonstones, but he did know one thing: he had to hunt.

Except... he didn't have a guild.

And without a guild, access to the dungeons was impossible.

He exhaled slowly and continued his search.

Announcements were pouring in.

Steel Spear Guild - Reserved for hunters ranked C and above.

Red Dragons - An elite guild, where even B-rankers had to pass rigorous tests.

Aube Brisée - Accepted D ranks minimum.

Isaac grumbled and scrolled again and again. Each announcement reminded him of the cruel truth: he was nothing.

Isaac continued to scroll through the ads on his phone, his tired gaze skipping from one text to the next. His mind was clouded by fatigue, but above all by this strange sensation that wouldn't leave him.

And then, suddenly, it hit.

A violent, brutal, all-consuming shock.

His breath stopped short. His stomach contracted so violently he thought for a moment he was going to vomit. But this was no normal hunger. This wasn't the simple need to eat.

This was a primal hunger, a gaping pit gnawing at his insides.

His body began to tremble. His muscles tensed under the intensity of the craving. His hands closed over his sheets until his knuckles turned white.

It was as if he was craving something he couldn't identify.

No...

He knew what it was.

The fight.

The blood.

Monster energy.

Moonstones.

He brought a trembling hand to his throat, trying to control the hellish sensation. His heart was beating so hard it echoed in his skull like a war drum. He opened his mouth, gasping for breath, but nothing came.

He needed more.

More monsters.

More fighting.

More stones.

His whole body demanded it.

He stood up abruptly and staggered to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water which he emptied in one gulp. But it didn't soothe anything.

He felt something howling inside him, like a hungry beast banging against the walls of his own body.

He leaned against the counter, his hands clenched on the wood, his gaze fixed on the void.

He couldn't stay like this.

He had to find a way back into a dungeon.

No matter the cost.

No matter the risks.

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His gaze slid back to his phone. The ads kept scrolling before his eyes, blurred, insignificant... until this one appeared.

Then he came across it.

Raven's Guild - Open Recruitment.

He blinked and opened the publication.

No rank restrictions.

Group missions and dungeon access guaranteed.

Fast membership with no entrance test.

Conditions:

- Guild takes 70% of hunter earnings.

- A minimum of one dungeon per week is required.

- No refund in the event of death.

70 %.

A bitter sneer formed on his face.

This was theft, pure and simple.

Traditional guilds usually took 30-40% of winnings, but here, an F-hunter... even if he found a valuable artifact, would get next to nothing.

But he didn't care.

Money didn't interest him.

What he wanted was the dungeons.

The monsters.

He could almost feel his heart speeding up just thinking about it.

He clutched his phone. The address of the guild's HQ was in a disreputable neighborhood, a dilapidated former industrial zone.

Everything around this guild screamed "danger".

But it was perfect.

Because he too was becoming dangerous.

Isaac closed his phone and sat up slowly. His legs were still a little shaky after that brutal crisis, but he had no time to wallow in self-pity.

He grabbed his jacket, pulled the hood over his head and left the apartment.

It had been dark for some time now, and there was nothing reassuring about the neighborhood in which he lived. Faulty streetlamps crackled faintly, casting halos of light too weak to chase away the darkness that reigned in the alleyways. The air was thick with humidity, making the atmosphere sticky and heavy.

Isaac strode forward, clenching his fists in his pockets. All around him, shadows moved stealthily: homeless people huddled under cardboard boxes, suspicious-looking youths staring at him in silence, and a few dubious figures posted at alley entrances, discreetly exchanging wads of cash for sachets of gunpowder.

This neighborhood was a dead end for those who lived there.

But Isaac had no intention of rotting here

He quickened his pace, entering a wider avenue where the lights of bars and nightclubs made the night vibrate with gaudy neon. A motorcycle whizzed past a few yards from him, almost knocking him over. He swore through his teeth, but didn't stop.

After a twenty-minute walk, he left the busy streets for a quieter, almost deserted area. An old disused hangar faced him, its half-faded sign betraying a past existence.

This was it.

The Raven's Guild.

Up close, the building looked shabby. The tin walls were covered in tags and rust, and a musty smell wafted from the gaps in the poorly insulated windows. The main door was barely lit by a yellowish bulb dangling from the end of a loose cable.

This was a low-level guild, there was no doubt about it.