chapter 7: cracks in the mirror
the cold wind swept through the shattered ruins of the once-glorious city, a brittle reminder of a world that had long forgotten peace. jagged stone pillars leaned precariously, the sky painted in bruised purples and angry reds, as if the heavens themselves mourned the chaos below. the air tasted metallic — thick with the scent of blood and rust, a perfect reflection of the violence that had consumed this place.
ren stood at the edge of a broken bridge, the jagged edges beneath his boots a sharp echo of his own fractured mind. his chest rose and fell unevenly, pride clenching his throat like a vice. the words from the last encounter with lysandra — the sin of envy — replayed relentlessly in his mind.
"you think you're invincible?" her voice still cut through his thoughts. "pride without wisdom is a path to ruin."
he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. no one would make him feel small. no one would ever outshine him. not again.
but the truth whispered like a ghost beneath his bravado — he was tired. weary of the endless struggle, the isolation wrapped tight around his soul. madness was no longer a distant threat; it was creeping closer, a shadow in his peripheral vision, waiting.
"if i fall," ren muttered, voice raw, "i will drag the world down with me."
he turned away from the chasm below, footsteps heavy yet resolute, heading toward the city's heart where his next challenge awaited. the sin of wrath, a being as volatile and burning as the firestorm that once razed these lands.
approaching the ruined cathedral, the scent of ash and charred wood filled the air. broken stained glass windows framed the sky like shattered jewels. the door groaned as ren pushed it open, each creak echoing like a warning.
inside, the flickering flames danced along the walls, casting monstrous shadows. and there, amidst the rubble, stood a figure—scarred, eyes burning with fury—wrath incarnate.
"ren," the figure growled, voice rough as grinding stone, "you carry pride like a crown, but even kings fall."
ren met the burning gaze, unflinching. "then i will rise again. every time."
wrath stepped forward, flames licking at the hem of his cloak. "your strength feeds on chaos, but chaos will consume you."
"maybe i want to be consumed," ren replied, a cold smile cutting through the tension. "maybe losing myself is the only way to win."
a storm of flames erupted as wrath unleashed his fury. ren dodged, heart hammering, mind razor-sharp despite the madness pressing at the edges. every strike tested his limits, every moment a battle for sanity and survival.
between blows, ren's voice broke through the roar. "you think i'm weak because i hesitate? because i feel the madness? you don't know what it's like to stare into the abyss and refuse to blink."
wrath paused, surprised. "you're more dangerous than i thought."
the fight raged, a dance of fire and shadows, but beneath the fury lay a silent war — ren's struggle against the pride that refused to let him admit fear, the creeping madness that threatened to shatter his soul.
finally, with a roar, ren channeled the chaotic energy swelling within, not like a wild beast, but a razor's edge — controlled, precise, deadly. he struck, a burst of power fueled not just by pride, but by desperation, pain, and a dark clarity born from madness.
wrath collapsed, breathing ragged. "you... you're not like the others."
ren stepped back, chest heaving. pride still burned fiercely, but beneath it, a seed of something new — understanding, perhaps — took root.
as he left the cathedral, the city seemed quieter. the shadows less heavy. but deep inside, ren knew this was only the beginning. the sins were more than foes; they were mirrors, reflections of parts of himself he refused to face.
and the madness? it was no longer just a threat. it was a companion, a twisted ally on the path to power.
he whispered to the wind, "if i break, it won't be by their hands. it will be by my own pride."