"So, anything I should know before I start walking through these doors?" Vespar turned back to face the fragment.
"Not much," the fragment replied, a faint smile forming on his lips. "But remember this—people think these sins are weaknesses, things that will drag you down, be your demise."
He paused, and the smile deepened, almost knowingly.
"But if wielded correctly... they're the greatest weapons—tools powerful enough to bring even gods to their knees. Inside these doors, you're not meant to win. You're meant to understand. Feel them. Embrace them. That is the only way to uncover who you truly are."
With those words, the fragment gave a low bow—and vanished into thin air.
Vespar blinked.
"Dramatic fker," he muttered. "But he's me... so I guess I'm a dramatic fker too."
Turning back, he opened the door.
The moment he stepped through, it shut behind him with a quiet finality.
The atmosphere shifted—heavy, yet calm; dominating, yet strangely motivating.
The room stretched long and empty, six towering pillars holding it upright like silent sentinels. It felt like a king's court abandoned by time.
At the far end, a throne sat elevated—pure black crystal, laced with veins of gold that glinted faintly in the dim light.
"Look at him… walks in like he owns nothing—talks like he wants nothing. And yet, if he wanted to, thrones would follow him if he just looked their way."
The voice echoed only in thought, tinged with both amusement and appraisal, as its owner rose from the throne.
His attire was modest—a maroon Victorian-style shirt, plain black trousers, and a flowing, understated robe. A black crown rested on his head, a single red crystal burning at its center like a silent eye.
And yet—the way he moved, the way he stood—
even the mightiest of emperors would kneel before a single word from him.
"You really kept me waiting."
He chuckled, eyes sharp but warm. "Still, good to see you. Feels like meeting a version of me that forgot he was born for more." Pride spoke as a table and two chairs appeared— each on their sides.
"So, are we gonna fight? Or is this some kind of test you've got for me, Mr. Pride?" Vespar asked, dropping into the seat across from him.
Pride chuckled. "See, that's your problem. Always expecting a fight or some grand trial."
"That's why you're here," Pride said, his tone still light but layered with something heavier. "To understand that not all fights are about weapons or bloodshed."
He leaned back, eyes sharp.
"Some wars are won with nothing but presence. Charisma. Attitude. The way you look at a man and make him question whether he should kneel or run."
Vespar tilted his head, half-skeptical. "So... you're saying I can win without lifting a finger?"
Pride smirked. "Not quite. I'm saying you've already got the kind of presence that makes people follow. But presence without purpose? That's just noise. You need to learn when to stand tall and when to let your people fight for you. A true king doesn't just fight. He commands."
Vespar raised a brow. "And why do you think I'm a king? Or that I want to be one? Sounds like a hassle. I'll be enough on my own."
Pride didn't flinch. His voice lowered, calm but cutting.
"You will be enough. I know that. But what happens when the world turns on you? When empires join hands just to bring you down? When masterminds gather—not to challenge you, but to break you?"
He paused, gaze steady.
"You can protect yourself, sure. But your wife… she may end up paying the price for the enemies you made alone."
"Come on, I'm just here to finish off one corrupted dude. Why the hell would I need a whole damn kingdom for that?" Vespar grumbled, irritation flickering as Pride mentioned Lilith being dragged into it.
A smile crept onto Pride's face.
"Just a corrupted dude? He's been here for over fifty years. And fifty years… is a long time to make powerful friends."
He leaned back casually, crossing one leg over the other.
Vespar leaned back, arms crossed, the weight of the room finally settling in. He wasn't arguing anymore—but he wasn't fully convinced either.
"…So you're saying I need people," Vespar muttered. "Power, a crown, all that crap just to kill one guy."
Pride gave a low chuckle, shaking his head.
"No. I'm saying you need to understand yourself. Because you don't walk like a killer—you walk like a king who doesn't know he's wearing the damn crown."
He stood now, pacing slowly around the throne.
"You want to know what pride is, Vespar? It's not arrogance. It's not some bloated sense of self. That's ego. Ego shouts. Pride stands. Unshaken. It is the fire that lets you say, 'I exist, I matter—and I will not kneel.'"
Vespar tilted his head. "Sounds a lot like arrogance with a fancy cape on."
Pride smiled. "That's the danger. Without control, pride turns into poison. You start thinking you're better than everyone. You stop listening. You burn bridges and call it confidence. That kind of pride? It'll eat you alive."
He stepped closer, tone lowering with gravity.
"But when you master it? When you carry it not as a weapon, but as a responsibility… it becomes your spine. It lets you inspire loyalty—not fear. It turns words into commands, and silence into pressure. That's the kind of pride that builds empires."
Vespar was quiet for a beat. "And if I don't want an empire?"
"Then one will still rise around you, whether you like it or not. Because people follow fire—even if it doesn't want to be followed."
Pride's eyes flickered with an amused gleam. "You carry it already, Vespar. In the way you talk. The way you look at people like they're not threats—just noise. But let me ask you this…"
He leaned in, voice soft now.
"What happens the day someone you love is caught in that noise—and you weren't ready?"
Vespar's jaw clenched slightly. "Then I burn it all down."
"And that's why you're here," Pride said. "To learn when to burn… and when to build."
Vespar exhaled, looking off to the side. "…That still sounds like a leash. Like you're telling me to become something for the sake of others."
Pride raised a brow. "No. I'm telling you to become what you already are—so others stop trying to define it for you."
Vespar narrowed his eyes. "You keep saying that. 'What I am.' And what the hell is that, huh? A ruler? A symbol? A martyr with good hair?"
Pride laughed—loud, honest. "Good hair, sure. But no. You're potential, Vespar. Raw, wild, and untamed. That's why the world will either fear you—or follow you."
He stepped back toward the throne, but didn't sit.
"Most men chase greatness to feel big. You? You avoid it to feel free. But it's already tethered to your name. That kind of presence? You can't run from it. You have to learn to wield it."
Vespar tilted his head, voice quieter now. "And what if I don't want to lead anyone? What if I just want to protect what's mine, live free, stay outside the system?"
Pride's smile faded, replaced with something deeper—wiser.
"Then you'll find yourself dragged into every system you ignore. You don't have to want the throne, Vespar. But if you don't control the battlefield, someone else will. And their war will touch the ones you love, with or without your permission."
Vespar's jaw worked for a moment. His fingers tapped his leg. He hated how the words made sense.
"…So then what? I fake the part of a king? Wear a crown and learn to talk pretty?"
Pride's voice softened, but his eyes were blazing.
"No, boy. You become the storm people bow to—not because you demand it, but because they know you could demand it… and choose not to."
He paused.
"Rulership isn't about titles. It's about responsibility. And pride—real pride—is the discipline to carry your power without letting it carry you."
Vespar looked down, the silence settling between them. No snark. No comeback. Just the weight of a truth that had always lingered in his blood but never had a voice.
Finally, he muttered, "...And if I fail?"
Pride gave a knowing smile.
"Then fail forward. But do it standing tall, with your eyes open. Because pride isn't about never falling… it's about getting up like the ground was never yours to kneel to."
Vespar met his gaze—and for the first time, didn't look away.
Vespar leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes darker now—not with anger, but with thought.
"…Alright," he said slowly. "Let's say you're right. I need people. I need a throne, or whatever it becomes. I get it. I'm not strong enough alone… not for what's coming."
He looked up, gaze locked with Pride's.
"But I don't know how to lead. I've never ruled anything. So teach me—where the hell do I start?"
Pride's smile didn't widen, but it deepened—like a fire being stoked.
"That question," he said, "is the first step to becoming something dangerous."
He walked a few steps, hands behind his back like a monarch teaching a prodigy.
"Start by understanding this: Rulership isn't about control. It's about influence. Fear might earn you obedience—but loyalty? Loyalty is born from shared purpose. From trust. You want people to follow you? Give them a reason to believe in where you're headed."
Vespar frowned. "And what if I don't know where that is yet?"
Pride turned back to him. "Then be honest about that. Your people don't need a perfect king—they need one who bleeds like them, but refuses to fall. Be the first to rise. The first to take the hit. The first to admit failure, and the last to abandon them. That is how you begin."
Vespar ran a hand through his hair, digesting every word. "…Sounds heavy."
"It is," Pride said. "But it's also freeing. You don't have to have all the answers. You just need to gather those who can help you find them. A ruler isn't a god. He's a beacon. Light the path. They'll follow."
Vespar's voice was quiet now. "And if they doubt me?"
Pride's reply came without pause.
"Let them. Doubt is good—it means they're thinking. What matters is not making them never doubt you. It's proving, time and time again, that you won't break under it."
There was a long silence.
Then Vespar stood up, slowly. Still unsure. Still raw.
But now… ready.
"I don't know what kind of king I'll be," he said. "But I'll make damn sure the world regrets trying to make me one."
Pride laughed—loud, fierce, proud.
"Spoken like a man who just met himself for the first time."
Pride's laughter slowly faded, replaced by something deeper—solemnity, maybe even respect.
He stepped forward, the quiet weight of centuries in his stride.
"You've got the fire," he said. "But fire alone doesn't make a king."
He reached up.
With slow hands, Pride removed the black crown from his head. The red crystal at its center pulsed faintly—like a heartbeat, old and eternal. It wasn't just metal. It wasn't just a symbol.
It was authority. Responsibility. A dare.
He held it out, not as a test—but as a gift.
"This crown isn't mine anymore. It never was, really. It was waiting—for someone who walks like he owns nothing, and speaks like the world owes him nothing… but could take it all if he wanted."
Vespar hesitated. His eyes didn't move from the crown.
"…Why give it to me?"
"Because," Pride said, voice steady, "I see what you don't. You think you're just here to kill a man. But you were born to lead an era."
Vespar took the crown—not like a conqueror snatching glory, but like a man picking up a sword he swore he'd never carry.
It was heavy.
He held it in his hands, staring at the reflection of his own uncertain face in the crimson gem.
"…I don't know if I'm ready," he muttered.
"You're not," Pride said simply. "That's why you'll be great."
__________
Future Vespar: Haha, I still remember that talk with Pride. He's responsible for the man I am now.
Author: When did you show up? Anyway—how's Adam?
Future Vespar: He's fine. Just sent him to tame that dragon that's been tearing up Jane's garden.
Author: Yo bro, are you out of your damn mind?! He's only 10, and you sent him to tame a f*cking dragon?
Future Vespar: Genchana. Don't worry, he's strong enough. Also… aren't you the author? Doesn't that mean you sent him on the quest?
Author: Oops!—wait a second… since you gained godhood, didn't you take over the story?