Starting out as a Dragon Slave-Chapter 90: This Time, It’s Not Just a Minor Threat

The calm imposed by Yvan had barely settled when the snow froze again.

The wind picked up slightly—but it was no longer the chaotic blizzard from before. This was a cold shiver, ordered, controlled, as if the dungeon itself were holding its breath.

And then...

Two vertical, slitted pupils gleamed through the mist about fifteen meters ahead unnaturally yellow, burning. They were visible for the span of a heartbeat. Then, gone.

No footsteps. No sound. Just the immediate absence of light.

— "Contact," Yvan whispered.

He raised his sword in one sharp, calm, controlled motion.

And in the seconds that followed, the ground exploded.

A metallic shriek cut through the air—sharp, slicing, like the scream of two blades clashing in a vacuum. A flash of light tore the mist apart. But no enemy was visible.

The team cried out, stumbling back, hands shielding their eyes.

— "WHAT—?!" shouted Charlotte. "What was that?!"

Isaac didn’t move. He was watching Yvan.

The Rank A hadn’t dodged. He had countered.

And now, his sword was vibrating in the air, moving so fast it blurred—nearly invisible to the naked eye. The waves of mana emanating from it struck the ground in concentric shockwaves, pushing the snow back in pulses.

Yvan wasn’t even looking at his opponent. He felt them.

— "Don’t stand there!" Isaac shouted, turning to the rest of the team. "GET BACK!"

Victor, his armor half-frozen from the aura of the attack, struggled to his feet.

— "But... we can’t just leave him alone! We—"

Isaac stepped between them, his voice sharper than ever:

— "This isn’t a normal monster. What you just felt? That’s the exact reason behind the government’s new emergency measures. It’s them. The ones hunting our Hunters down one by one."

They froze.

— "You won’t see it. You won’t track it. It’s above everything you’ve ever fought. Even I have to wait for the right moment to strike."

Charlotte opened her mouth, but Isaac raised a hand.

— "Listen to me. You have one mission now: find the boss. Kill it. Close this dungeon. That’s your only way out."

Sophie, the healer, nodded, her eyes trembling.

— "And you... what about you? You’re not coming with us?"

Isaac slowly turned his head toward the invisible storm raging just meters away—where Yvan’s blades still cut through the air.

His orange pupils glowed with calm, terrible intensity.

— "I’m staying here. And I’ll do what it takes to keep you alive."

Léon, the most clear-headed of them all, was the first to move. He grabbed Charlotte by the arm.

— "Come on. He’s right. There’s nothing we can do here. Let’s find that damn boss."

Yvan said nothing. He continued his duel with the void. His movements were like a ritual dance, each strike of his blade slicing the air with divine regularity.

Isaac positioned himself on the edge of the fight. Waiting.

Not out of fear.

But out of strategy.

He didn’t want to disrupt Yvan. A wrong move, a mistimed step, and the rhythm of this lethal choreography could collapse.

He watched.

He felt movement at the edge of perception—footsteps that left no prints, traces of mana, a being too fast, perhaps invisible, or manipulating perception itself.

The kind of enemy you only touch after it’s already chosen to kill you.

And Yvan... was holding his own.

— "Impressive..." Isaac murmured. "He doesn’t see it... but he reads it in the flow."

Another whistle. A fine cut appeared on Yvan’s cheek. Blood.

But he didn’t flinch. Instead... he smiled.

— "There you are," he murmured to himself.

And his sword accelerated again.

Isaac felt his mana wings quiver on his back, ready. His mana core beat like a second heart.

— "When you give me an opening... I’ll strike."

They had left reluctantly, their hurried footsteps crunching through the packed snow. The line formed by the remaining five was disorganized, each of them casting anxious glances behind them, hoping to catch a glimpse of Isaac or Yvan through the mist.

But they saw nothing.

Only the echoes of blades and the tearing of air followed them.

— "Damn it... it was a mistake leaving them there, I’m telling you..." Victor growled, gripping his greatsword with both hands, his knuckles white.

— "And do what? You want to die chasing an invisible enemy?" Léon shot back, striding ahead. "Isaac was right. We’d only slow them down. We’d be dead in ten seconds."

Charlotte walked in the middle of the group, a sphere of fire floating above her palm. The magic flickered, unstable from the cold.

— "I can’t even stabilize my heat magic. This dungeon is a nightmare," she muttered.

— "Keep moving," Sophie said, her voice firm despite the fear in her eyes. "We need to find that boss and shut this portal. It’s our only shot."

They advanced for another ten minutes, the blizzard now replaced by an oppressive calm. The snowdrifts became more irregular, with translucent ice formations rising like crystalline spires, giving the plain an almost ceremonial appearance.

And then—

A crack.

Not a scream. Not a roar.

Just that sharp, distinct sound.

— "Oh no... not these things again..." Charlotte muttered.

Three ice ramps burst from the ground with a brutal hiss. Frost lines snaked and rose, converging toward them at terrifying speed.

— "FORMATION!" Victor shouted. "GET READY!"

Shapes burst out in the wake of the ramps: Glider Yetis. Three in total this time. Not as many as during the first encounter... but much faster.

And more importantly... no Isaac.

Charlotte launched her fire orb, but one of the monsters slid sideways, bouncing onto a freshly generated ramp, dodging the spell fluidly, almost elegantly.

— "HOLY SHIT, THEY’RE JUMPING!" Léon yelled, backing off.

The Yeti turned sideways, veered sharply, and charged Victor, who barely blocked the impact with his sword, sliding two meters back from the force.

— "He’s too heavy! I won’t be able to take many more hits!"

— "Aline! Cast a slowing spell!" Sophie shouted as she retreated.

— "It’s not me, I’m the healer!" Aline cried, panicking.

— "SHIT!"

The second Yeti leapt at Charlotte, who cast a fire cone. The spell hit, partially burning the creature’s shoulder—but not enough to stop it. It slid beneath her, sweeping her legs and sending her crashing to the ground.

— "Charlotte!" Sophie cried out.

Victor ran to her, grabbing her sleeve and pulling her aside just before the third Yeti smashed the ground where she’d been with an ice-charged arm.

— "They’re surrounding us!" Léon hissed. "They’re reading our rhythm, our escape angles... they’re not as dumb as they look!"

The group fell back into a tighter circle, panting.

— "Damn, Isaac, you handled these things alone?..." Victor muttered while blocking another strike. "We’re way out of our depth."

— "We have to keep moving!" Charlotte yelled, blood on her lip, raising her arms to cast another attack. "Don’t stand still, they love stationary targets!"

One of the Yetis generated a ramp under their feet.

— "HIT THE GROUND!" Léon screamed.

Everyone dove flat as the creature soared over them in a perfect line, its slashing strike cutting the air just above their heads.

Charlotte rolled onto her knees in the snow, spitting blood.

— "This is bullshit! They’re synchronized!"

— "We won’t last like this," Victor growled, spitting onto the ground. "I’ve blocked three hits—I won’t block another."

The fight spiraled into chaos.

They dodged on instinct, retreating constantly, overwhelmed by the terrain.

And in this pressure, the absence of Isaac and Yvan was felt more than ever. Without someone to read the battlefield, to take to the skies, to cleave through in a single motion, the group was left naked, exposed... human.

Charlotte trembled, but lifted her head.

— "We can’t fail. They’re fighting to the death behind us... If we screw this up, they’ll die for nothing."

Victor nodded, sweating, blade trembling in his hands.

— "Then we fight. To the end."

The battle raged on, without respite.

Breathing ragged, faces streaked with sweat and frost, the team held on—but barely.

Their bodies were covered in bruises, shallow cuts, deep contusions. No mortal wounds... but too much fatigue. Too much tension. Too much fear.

— "They move like dancers!" Victor growled as he blocked another blow. "They’re not monsters, they’re war machines!"

Charlotte hurled spell after spell, her hands numb from the cold, her magic growing unstable.

— "My mana’s half gone... I won’t last much longer," she breathed, swaying.

The Yetis, however, seemed tireless. They slid, rebounded, their frosty breath escaping sharpened fangs. None had fallen. None had bled.

Suddenly, a deep howl echoed through the plain, shattering the rhythm of the battle.

A cry from elsewhere, far deeper than any they’d heard before.

The three engaged Yetis froze mid-glide, halting their charge in one fluid motion. Their massive bodies shifted, eyes turning southwest—through the snow.

The group of Hunters stood still, panting, weapons still raised.

— "What’s happening?" Léon whispered, hands trembling on his dagger.

— "They’re... stopping?" Charlotte wavered, her weakening fire circle flickering at her feet.

— "This isn’t over..." Sophie murmured.

Because they were coming.

Emerging slowly from the fog, walking calmly, five new Yetis approached. But these were different.

Their posture was not combative. They weren’t sliding. They walked slowly, almost solemnly, in tight formation. They didn’t roar. No gestures of aggression.

And most of all...

They were speaking.

A guttural, rough language of clicks, growls, and deep intonations. The three combatants immediately responded, the exchange more animated, but not hostile.

Charlotte, still kneeling, stared in disbelief.

— "They... they’re talking to each other?"

— "I’ve got no clue what they’re saying," Victor muttered, sword still raised.

Suddenly, one of the newcomers stepped forward.

Slowly. Majestically.

He was slimmer than the others, though still massive. His fur was a pale gray, nearly silver. He wore a crude, worn hide cloak, and in his right hand held a mana staff—carved from a column of ice, etched with glowing runes.

The group stared at him, frozen between fear and confusion.

The Yeti raised his staff.

A pale blue light spread from the crystal at its tip, enveloping the area in a calming aura. The snowfall softened. The wind stilled. Even the mist seemed to retreat slightly around them.

And then, with a crisp snap, a magical wave touched the ground.

Charlotte stiffened.

— "That was... a translation spell...?"

The Yeti slowly lifted his head.

And in perfect, deep, gravelly French, he spoke:

— "Humans... we are not your enemies."

Silence.

The group stood frozen.

No one understood what had just happened.

No one knew what to say.