Elara Voss had always believed history was a weapon. In her cramped apartment in 2026 New York, surrounded by dusty tomes on ancient empires, she'd dreamed of wielding it like a sword. But dreams don't pay bills, and neither did her adjunct professor gig. That night, as lightning cracked the sky outside her window, she pored over a rare manuscript – a crumbling scroll purporting to detail the "Echo Thrones" of a lost civilization. "Bullshit," she muttered, tracing the faded runes. "But if it were real... imagine absorbing the souls of queens past."
The storm raged harder. A bolt struck the power line outside, and everything went white. Pain seared through her chest. The world spun, books flying like ravens in a gale. Her last thought: This can't be how it ends. Not yet.
When Elara opened her eyes, the storm was gone. Replaced by... chains? Her wrists burned, bound in iron manacles. She lay on a cold stone floor, the air thick with incense and rot. Torches flickered on walls etched with the same runes from her scroll. What the hell? She bolted upright, heart pounding. This wasn't a dream. Her modern jeans and hoodie were gone, swapped for a ragged tunic stained with mud.
"Get up, scum!" A burly guard in leather armor kicked her ribs. "The auction starts at dawn. Pray some lord buys you before the mines do."
Auction? Mines? Elara's mind raced. This was Veiloria – she recognized the heraldry from her studies. A fantasy empire from obscure myths, where rulers cultivated "echoes" – soul fragments of ancestors – to gain immortality and power. But myths weren't real. Unless...
A notification flickered in her vision, like a glitchy HUD:
[System Awakening: Echo Cultivation Unlocked][Host: Elara Voss (Reincarnated Soul)][Level: 0 – Servant Class][Echo Slots: 1/10][Available Echo: Fragment of Queen Isolde (Regressed Knowledge – History +10%)]
Holy shit. She was in an isekai. Regressed, with a system. And if her knowledge was right, the Echo Throne at the empire's heart could make her a god. But first, survive the slave auction.
As guards dragged her into the bustling market square, dragons wheeled overhead, their scales glinting like emeralds. Vendors hawked glowing artifacts, and nobles in silks bartered for lives. Elara's eyes locked on a cloaked figure in the shadows – tall, with eyes like smoldering coals. He watched her intently, a faint scar curling his lip into a smirk.
"Who's that?" she whispered to a fellow captive.
"The Dragon Prince, Thorne. Exiled for treason. They say he devours echoes to fuel his curse."
Elara swallowed. History whispered warnings: Thorne was a villain in the tales, destined to burn empires. But in her regressed knowledge, villains often hid truths. As the auctioneer called her lot, she activated her first echo. Power surged – Isolde's wisdom flooded her mind, revealing a hidden weakness in the chains.
With a twist, she broke free. Chaos erupted. And as she fled into the alleys, Thorne's voice echoed behind: "Interesting. A queen's soul in a servant's body. This could be fun."
[End of Chapter 1 – To Be Continued...]