"I thought no one from the West Coast was coming this year. After all, that place of yours—no resources, no heritage, what kind of decent Wizards could you possibly produce?"
The few people behind him let out low chuckles.
Leon’s face went ashen.
"You—"
"What about ?" The blond man cut him off, his tone light and airy. "Did I say anything wrong?"
He lifted his hand, his fingertip lightly tapping the air.
"The world only knows that Appalachia has the East Coast, has the Seville Empire, has Lord Raphael presiding over the chanical Wizard Civilization. As for the West Coast—" his tail note rose slightly, "Black Sail? Silver Hand? Thorn Holy Tower? Doomsday Bell?"
He rattled off four nas in one breath, then gave a slight shake of his head, the motion as elegant as if he were shooing away a fly.
"To put it bluntly, those organizations of yours placed on the Golden Continent wouldn’t even make the cut as second-rate."
A young Witch in the sa Blood Rose Magic Robe behind him chid in, "Audric is right. I went to Dusk City on the West Coast last year. That place isn’t even on par with the smallest trade post where we’re from."
Dusk City was territory of the Silver Hand, and also the first place Duke had made landfall when he arrived on the West Coast.
Audric.
Duke silently committed this na to mory.
Audric tilted his head slightly, giving that Witch an approving look.
There was no arrogance in that look; instead, it carried a kind of noble, gentle courtesy.
As if his arrogance was innate, needing no deliberate display—re existence was enough.
"So," he withdrew his gaze and looked back at Leon, "I’m just stating facts. You people from the West Coast—aren’t you all just country bumpkins?"
He paused, his gaze sliding past Leon and landing on Vera standing behind him.
Those pale golden vertical pupils lingered on Vera’s face for a mont.
"However—" his tone suddenly shifted, becoming like that of soone appraising an amusing trinket, "this young lady is a little different. Miss Vera from Thorn Holy Tower, isn’t it? I’ve heard of you."
Vera didn’t respond; she rely stared at him coldly.
Audric didn’t seem to mind her silence.
He unhurriedly stepped half a pace forward, those pale golden vertical pupils roaming up and down Vera’s body—from her cool, aloof features to the white Magic Robe of Thorn Holy Tower, then finally back to her face.
"In that West Coast of yours, what respectable Wizard Clan could there possibly be?" His voice wasn’t loud, yet it was piercingly clear.
"What did you say your na was again? Vera? Vera what?"
He didn’t wait for Vera to answer, but supplied it himself.
"Vera Moon Shadow? Moon Shadow—this surna has never appeared on any bloodline genealogy I’ve seen. So—commoner, right?"
The Blood Rose students behind him let out low snickers.
Audric raised his hand to signal them to be quiet, but continued speaking himself, his tone carrying a lofty pity:
"On our Golden Continent, bloodline is everything. How far a person can go is decided from the mont they’re born. People like you—no surna, no bloodline, no idea who your ancestors were—"
He paused, those pale golden vertical pupils slowly sweeping over every West Coast face present.
"Even if you’re lucky enough to拜 a powerful ntor, squeeze your way into a Six-Ring Tower, it still won’t change what you are in your bones."
His voice suddenly lightened, as if he were stating a common truth.
"A lowborn is a lowborn."
The instant those three words landed, the expressions of the young Wizards behind Vera all changed.
Edmond’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked, another student from White Cliff Academy’s face flushed crimson, and even Vera—usually so cold—had a fleeting, almost imperceptible chill flash through her clear eyes.
But she still didn’t speak.
Audric seed quite satisfied with this reaction.
He slowly lifted his hand, smoothing an entirely nonexistent wrinkle at his cuff, the motion so refined it was as if he were at a court ball.
"So then, Miss Vera—" his tail note lifted slightly, "people like you, when you et soone like who has ancient blood flowing in his veins, strictly speaking, ought to salute."
He paused, a hint of amusent flashing through those pale golden vertical pupils.
"It’s a pity you West Coasters have no such custom. After all, you don’t have a single proper bloodline family over there. You bow and scrape to everyone, call everyone ’my lord,’ and over ti, you forget where you ought to stand."
Duke stood among the crowd, his gaze calmly fixed on the confrontation in the field.
Every word of Audric’s speech fell into his ears, not a syllable missed. There wasn’t much expression on his face, only his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Golden Dragon Bloodline..."
A very soft whisper sounded beside him.
Duke glanced sideways and saw a young Wizard in a gray robe discussing with his companion. The man lowered his voice and said, "The Blood Gold Clan, one of the top bloodline legacies on the Golden Continent. It’s said they even signed pacts with the Dragon Race..."
"A Golden Dragon Bloodline that appears once every five hundred years, and he just happens to be the one." Another Wizard picked up, unable to hide the envy in his tone. "I stayed on the Golden Continent for three years and heard all kinds of rumors about that clan. From the day they’re born, their people are destined to stand at the top of the pyramid. Resources, heritage, connections—they lack nothing."
"Not just that." A third voice cut in; it was a shrewd-faced middle-aged Warlock who looked like an accompanying instructor from so faction. "For the Blood Gold Clan, once the Golden Dragon Bloodline awakens, their physical body rivals the Dragon Race, their elental affinity skyrockets, and they even gain so of the Dragon Race’s Talents. It’s said this generation’s Audric awakened at eighteen, and the very day of his awakening, he crushed the skull of a Level 2 Demon with his bare hands."
Duke’s brows twitched slightly.
"There’s sothing even more outrageous." That middle-aged Warlock lowered his voice, but couldn’t suppress the awe in his words. "A Level 6 Mage Lord on the Golden Continent once publicly stated that barring accidents, Audric Blood Gold is one of the most promising young people in the last three hundred years to break through to Level 4."
Duke withdrew his gaze and looked again at the blond man in the field.
Those pale golden vertical pupils, those fine scales, that innate, bone-deep arrogance—now all had an explanation.
The Golden Dragon Bloodline was one of the top bloodlines on the Golden Continent, but even in this clan, not every generation produced a bearer of that bloodline.
Bloodlines of that level tended to pass on sporadically, sotis only appearing once after many generations.
No wonder he dared to act so brazenly in front of everyone from the West Coast.
No wonder the condescending ease in his eyes felt so much more genuine than any affected arrogance.
Because to him, those words weren’t insults at all—rely statents of fact.
Leon took a step forward, completely blocking the space between Vera and Audric.
"Audric!" His voice was low, like thunder held down by force. "Have you said enough?"
Audric’s gaze left Vera and lazily fell onto Leon’s face.
A hint of interest flickered in those pale golden vertical pupils, like a cat spotting a mouse that dared bare its teeth at it.
"And you are?"
"Leon, Silver Hand." Leon enunciated each word.
Audric was silent for a mont.
"The Holy Silver Knight Order?" The corners of his mouth slowly curved upward. "The Knight Order that fought the Abyssal Demons five thousand years ago?"
"As long as you know." Leon’s voice grew even heavier.
Audric nodded.
Then he said, "But that was five thousand years ago. What do you have now? A Wizard Organization called the Silver Hand, guarding a few small cities and living off tolls?"
The Blood Rose students behind him laughed again.
Leon’s face turned livid.
But Audric no longer looked at those laughing students. He only watched Leon quietly, those pale golden vertical pupils carrying a hunter’s calm.
"Leon, was it?" he said. "Your ancestors indeed deserve respect—but that’s your ancestors, not you."
He paused, his tone as light as if reciting a fact.
"You stand here shouting at . Do you know what would happen on the Golden Continent if soone of your birth dared offend soone like ?"
Leon didn’t answer.
Audric answered for him.
"You’d have your legs broken and be thrown out of the city," he said. "Not because you’re weak, but because you lack the self-awareness a lower-born should have."
His voice wasn’t loud, yet it hamred into the ears of every Wizard present, each word like a nail driven in.
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