Leon's fist was clenched so tight his knuckles cracked.
But his voice stayed steady.
"This is the Central Islands, not your Golden Continent."
"So what?" Audric's tone lifted slightly at the end. "Rules are the same everywhere. A lowborn is a lowborn, bloodline is bloodline. Change it to a hundred different places, it's still the same truth."
Leon stared at him, and in those eyes something deeper was burning—not anger, but a pride from the depths of his bloodline, a pride that had just been pushed to its limit.
"Audric." His voice suddenly went calm, so calm it was almost abnormal. "You keep saying the West Coast is a backwater, that people like us are lowborn, that bloodline decides everything."
He paused, the corner of his mouth slowly curling up—not a twisted grimace of rage, but a look that was almost a cold sneer.
"In that case, I'd like to ask you—do you dare, with that Golden Dragon bloodline you're so proud of, to fight me in the Sky Arena of the Central Islands?"
