"I NEED NO SUCH THING AS HOPE!" Pride howled. The words ripped through the collapsing palace, shaking fractured mirrors in their frames. It was not calm anymore. Not polished. Not superior. It was loud, furious, defensive. And to Ludwig, standing beneath that storm of golden light and shattered authority, it sounded like the sweetest thing Pride could have possibly said.
The final crack in the mirror, the one Ludwig needed to finalize this absurdly long fight. It was not in the palace walls, nor in the dome, nor in the endless reflective surfaces Pride had used to turn his existence into worship. It was in Pride himself. In that howl. In the contradiction burning behind those golden eyes. A perfect being should not need hope. A perfect being should not reject needing it with rage. A perfect being should not need to answer the accusation at all.
