Lysander's eyes narrowed. "You… Don't think that just because you're from the Veyrathis family, I won't take action against you."
"And Don't you have anything to do besides babysitting the brats of the Veylmont family?"
Elias frowned. "Babysitting the Veylmont family? And where exactly did that nonsense come from?"
Lysander's smirk widened. He raised his voice just enough to ensure every noble in the cabin could hear.
"Oh? Where did it come from? Who doesn't know that the Veylmont family only flourished because of the Veyrathis family's backing? Their so-called wealth? All of it, just bargaining from a convenient relationship."
A murmur spread through the nobles seated nearby. Conversations halted, heads turned, and all eyes were now fixed on them.
Lysander had succeeded. He had made sure everyone was paying attention.
"Elias... just leave it. They're just two morons." Dorian muttered, rising from his seat and placing a hand on Elias' shoulder, signaling him to stay calm.
Lysander's eyes narrowed as he stood up, his voice dripping with challenge. "Who are you calling a moron? I challenge you to an arena fight. I won't even use my Marked Echo Aura, just hand-to-hand combat. That way, you can't claim I'm bullying a weakling with my Echo power."
He smirked, his words laced with arrogance. "Agree to it, if you have the guts. Or else, apologize for disrespecting us by calling us morons."
Before Dorian could respond, a noble nearby jumped in, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Didn't you two call him a disabled person first? And now when he responds, you're suddenly offended? How is that disrespectful?"
The atmosphere shifted. All eyes in the cabin were now focused on the exchange.
Garret scoffed, glaring at Dorian. "If he's not disabled, then what exactly should we call him? He couldn't even pass the trial in the first place. His so-called talent of showing future ascension… seems pretty far off to me."
Lysander added to Garret's words, his voice sharp and mocking. "And remember, it was he who bragged about showing Order 4 talent, only to fail miserably."
The noble who had initially tried to defend Dorian fell silent, realizing he couldn't argue with the truth of their words.
The truth was clear: Dorian had been the one to set himself up for ridicule. It was his own foolish boast that had given Lysander and Garret the ammunition to attack him. His claims, his arrogance now, it all seemed hollow in the face of failure.
"I accept the challenge," Dorian said, his voice firm with determination. "You can use your Echo power if you wish."
As the words left his mouth, a weight settled on him. Coming from a wealthy merchant family, he couldn't afford to show cowardice in front of the assembled nobility.
Even a small act of hesitation could ripple through the family's reputation, potentially harming their business. It might not be catastrophic, but it would certainly leave an impact.
Lysander's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That's my boy. Now you actually look like someone from the Veylmont family." He stepped closer, his words dripping with mockery. "If you hadn't agreed, I might have started doubting your bloodline."
He chuckled darkly. "And remember, don't show up to the arena without a Marked Echo Memory. After becoming an Echo, my fists are just looking for a punching bag."
The two boys turned and headed back to their seats, their voices fading into the growing tension in the cabin.
The surrounding nobles exchanged knowing glances, shaking their heads in disbelief. Dorian was about to face a Marked Echo with nothing but a Memory against him? It was a foregone conclusion, the one with the aura of the Shattered Veil would surely win.
For Dorian, it was even worse. Not only was he not an Echo, but he couldn't even tap into the full potential of an Echo Memory without aura. Sure, the Veylmont family's wealth could buy him a Memory, but there was no way for Dorian to compete with someone who had an Echo aura.
"I'm sorry, Dorian," Elias said, his voice filled with regret. "Because of me, you're in this mess…"
Dorian turned to him with a reassuring smile. "Don't blame yourself. Even if you hadn't spoken up, they would have caused trouble anyway."
Elias' eyes lit up with a spark of determination. "If you say so, don't worry about the competition. I'll tell Father to find an Echo Memory that can rival even a Marked Echo."
Dorian simply nodded and sank back into his seat, shaking his head as he tried to calm his thoughts. He was momentarily lost in a daydream, envisioning himself as an Order 1 Anchor, standing above all, when the harsh reality of the situation cut through.
Who cared about the competition? After all, Lysander was just an Echo, and he Dorian, was a future Anchor.
The airship began its ascent, gently gliding towards its destination, leaving the students of Ikorrah City behind, standing in their own city. Ikorrah, situated on the banks of the Foursoul Confluence, was a place where history, mystery, and nature intertwined.
The Foursoul Confluence was a sacred point where the Nyxian Flow, a river shrouded in ancient legend, divided into four powerful streams. The source of the river was unknown, and the myths surrounding it were as deep as the waters themselves. It was said that the Nyxian Flow was born when Nyx, the Goddess of Night, wept. Her tears spilled into the world, creating a river that would bridge the realms of the waking and dreaming worlds.
The river's temperament shifted with the phases of the moon. On a new moon, the waters became turbulent and unpredictable, while under the glow of a full moon, it would calm, taking on a serene and reflective quality. For centuries, ancient civilizations had revered the river, worshiping it as a divine manifestation of Nyx's power.
Yet, in the present era, few believed in such myths. The common people of the age placed their faith in what could be measured and understood, grounded in logic and reason. However, they could not deny the existence of the Seven Pillars of Life, nor the strange phenomena that arose from the Dream Realm. The echoes, the Domains, and the inexplicable mysteries were too real to ignore. Though the debates of logic and faith often lingered in the air, they were rarely spoken aloud in the absence of understanding.
The Nyxian Flow was a blessing to the Southern Continent, stretching a massive four thousand miles from the swamps of the south, winding like a serpent's tail.
For three thousand miles, it flowed with steady purpose until it reached the Foursoul Confluence, where it split into four streams that fanned out like the tips of a flame, each river emptying into the Pontus Expanse Sea in the north.
At the very center of the flame-like spread was Zul'vharra City, thriving amidst the currents of the river on both its sides, drawing life from the waters. The airship, traveling along the bluish, murky waters of the river, drifted slowly northward, carrying its passengers into the heart of the great expanse.
Inside the cabin, students filled the window seats, their faces brimming with excitement. The Foursoul Confluence unfolded beneath them, the river's vastness stretching beyond the horizon, while the arches of Ikorrah's flourishing houses stood proudly behind them. Laughter and light-hearted chatter resonated in the air, blending with the cloud-filled sky above. The sun shone brightly, casting its golden light over the scene, bathing the world in warmth and promise.
The journey had begun, and with it, the students' future, as well as the deep mysteries of their land, lay just ahead.
Ikorrah City was not always located where it stands today. Before the Common Era, it was originally built near the place where the Nyxian Flow formed a lotus-shaped delta before emptying into the sea. However, the strategic value of that land made it a constant battleground. The region was fiercely contested, with Thalasiri and Urun'gazi locked in endless conflict with Zul'vharra City, each vying for control over its wealth, fertile soil, and vital resources.
The Southern Continent, dominated by vast deserts, has always been a land of scarcity. Natural resources are few, and every discovery of a hidden oasis, rare mineral deposit, or ancient relic sparks immediate warfare. Nations rise and fall over these fleeting treasures, and alliances shift like the dunes in the wind.
For centuries, battles raged over the lotus delta, and in time, Ikorrah City was forced to relocate, finding its new home along the Foursoul Confluence, where it now thrives amidst the great river's divided streams.
Even so, the echoes of past conflicts linger, and the struggle for dominance in the desert lands of the south is far from over.