"I stand above all." "They bow before me." "The world is mine to command." He stands alone on the battlefield. The weight of his name bends the air. His enemies tremble. Their blades lower before they strike. They do not fight him. They cannot. The weak bow. The strong falter. The earth shifts beneath his feet. He is Pride. He is Absolute. All kneel before him. None dare defy. He is the unbreakable! He is the throne itself! A single blade rises. A single voice refuses to bow. A mistake, he tells himself. A momentary lapse in their faith. But then, another. And another. The weight beneath his feet feels unsteady. He bellows, commands. But they do not listen. They do not kneel. Their eyes— Their faces— They see through him. His strength was never his. It was their fear. Their obedience built his throne. And now, it is collapsing beneath him. The throne is cracking. The whispers are shouts. He was never invincible. And now they know.
