"Sin: Pride."
Kaiden whispered it, and the air shifted.
Violet arcs of raw arcane power spiraled up his arms. Instead of being chaotic, their movement was elegant and smooth. His pupils sharpened as radiant indigo flooded his irises, glowing with an intensity that made the crypt's shadows recoil.
He exhaled.
The Sin of Pride didn't twist him. Didn't turn him into some delusional tyrant barking orders and proclaiming godhood. The Sin Stances weren't cartoonish caricatures; they were amplifiers. Reflections of what was already there.
He didn't become a raging bull when entering Wrath Stance, but it made it easier to let go.
And Pride?
Pride simply reminded him of the truth.
That he had come far.
That he had fought hard.
That he had earned every damn piece of what he had.
