An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

Krael found himself within what he could only call his mindscape—something he would never have accessed had it not been for the information filtering into his mind, ensuring he never lagged in knowledge.

And perhaps that wasn't the only reason he recognized it without questioning himself. This was what he had always envisioned as a child: a throne room filled with opulence, a place where he was the sovereign ruler—but without the burdens of sovereignty.

One could say that from a very young age, he had admired the idea of being a sovereign. Yet, the responsibilities and the weight that came with it were things he never desired. Why couldn't one wear a crown without bearing its weight?

He looked into himself and saw all things powerful.

A single throne stood before him, three-sided in its design. The side that resonated with him the most was the simplest of them all—lacking the wild and chaotic grandeur or mysterious veiled subtlety of the others. Yet, it was his.

His mind was tired. His spirit was exhausted. Everything that had happened since his birth had made him question who he truly was—not in the way one ponders their existence, but in a way that made him question his meaning, his purpose, his role in all of this.

He had lived a life without motivation.

His goals had always been his own, yet even avenging his father felt more like a chore than a deeply personal mission. He had never felt a strong attachment to the man. Acknowledgment was there, but it had never reached the point where he would stake his life on fulfilling such a thing. And yet, even if he had hated his father, which he did not, he knew he would still avenge him.

He had always felt like a poorly written character, leeching off the grandeur of his setting to flourish. And now, seeing someone he had merely shown mercy to receive all the glory that should have been his…

A story that should have belonged to him from the beginning.

It felt as though a veil had been lifted.

But that was where the difference lay—just because it was lifted didn't mean he would suddenly become someone different.

He saw the truth, or at least what he perceived to be true. But what did that mean for him now?

Was he supposed to find a grand purpose to drive his story forward? Was he meant to chase after a lofty goal that would make life worthwhile?

He had seen the change in that girl. While he couldn't say he had reached the same hollowness she once had, he recognized that she had found something. She had felt the emptiness and made it a part of her. She had found a path to be her own person.

He, on the other hand, had merely been chosen—used as a shield against the lofty expectations of life.

He had watched her find an anchor, a spark that gave her otherwise empty life meaning.

He had seen her eyes fill with something other than emptiness; it may have had foundations in savage brutality and the refined acting of taking lives, but it was better than nothing at all. And now, seeing it, he felt envy.

He wished he, too, had grand ideals.

A goal to conquer reality. A creation to be more than he was.

But that was never going to be his truth.

He loved simplicity. He loved the quiet life. He loved feeling the earth beneath his fingers—at least, he had when his mother did it.

She had loved to plant and care for beets.

She had loved to harvest her crops, dancing in the light of the great pillar, awaiting the moment her husband would return home to eat her meals.

A simple farm girl's life.

Speaking with the people of Masesta as though they were equals.

Never having to deal with the pressure of nobility or the undercurrents that came with noble blood.

It had helped that they lived on the edge of the Cardinal, limiting their interactions with those of higher status.

The Harvest Offering, dreaded by the whole East, had never been something they feared—because his mother had been that diligent, that talented.

If he remembered correctly, her Pathway had been one of nurturing.

And she had loved her craft.

That had been her goal.

She had never sought fame or glory. To her, the love for her future child and husband was all she had ever desired.

A humble life...

...Humble life...

...humility...?

The mindscape trembled so fiercely that the thrones cracked and groaned.

Wails of rage echoed through the void.

But there was a veiled laugh of glee contained within.

Krael had a feeling that he had come to some hidden truth, and he just started seeing the corner of the board he played on as a pawn....

Yet Krael simply lay on the floor of his mindscape, not acknowledging the weight of the game he played, staring at nothing in particular as he recalled the feeling of his mother when he had still been in her womb.

Those feelings had been his anchor as a child—the best bedtime stories she had ever told him.

She might have died early, before he could ever be held in her arms.

But she had been content.

She had given him all the love she could, even as she took her last breath, struggling to give him a chance to say goodbye, a chance to live a life without her in it.

He felt no grievance toward her death.

She had lived enough, and she had found the rest she deserved.

She might have died badly.

But he would preserve her memory in peace.

Krael smiled for the first time.

His thoughts settled.

But the mindscape was in ruins.

The throne had been crushed so violently that calling it a throne was an insult.

He did not need some preconceived plan to dictate his life.

He had seen the door to humility. The gates to the pits of pride. The first sparks of arrogance and the depths of ego.

But he would not choose.

For this life was one of discovery.

That would be his path.

His madness... their madness.

He would not be bound by prejudice.

If he wished to spend his days on a farm, he would do so and watch life bloom.

Everything else could be left to his other personas, for they were as much a part of him as he was of them.

And though they had never said it, they, too, were lost in notions set for them before their time.

But whether it was fate, destiny, existence, or creation… or even the mad entity...

If he were to have a throne, it would be one he built—one they built together.

Krael looked beside him and found the giant, all-powerful Sael staring ahead with a dazzling grin.

There was serenity in his eyes.

Hidden chaos.

But not the chaos of a mindless force.

This was something different—something unburdened by rules.

He, too, had found the version of himself that he wanted to be. He had set his goals, and he would fulfill them...they would fulfill them.

Krael turned to the other side and saw a shapeless form fluctuating between various versions of himself. Though this persona was more entrenched, it had seen the way out.

How it would approach that way out, however, would be different from them.

It craved the thrill of breaking the bindings that held them.

It would not take the easy way out—not until it had defeated the one who stood on the other end.

It wanted to be the one that controlled the strings...the strings that had thought to make them puppets on a stage...while the other side believed they still held them.

All three of them lay in silence, their thoughts churning.

Their mindscape was ruined beyond belief.

But they would build it again, from the ground up.

Now, it was nothing but a malleable void, waiting to be shaped into whatever image they desired.

"We shall be the pride that upholds Pride—from the very pits to the very heavens. What we choose to be will be just that: our decision, our madness. No one will tell us otherwise."

Pride's chains would be their mantles.

Madness, their heart and pillar.

Boundless, their might and power.

They looked at each other—though none turned their heads.

And at that moment, they fused into one.

A voice, soft yet powerful enough to shake the foundations of creation, whispered within the mindscape.

"We are the Primordial Sin of Pride."

Into three they returned, different from before; now they were new...

"Vitreum… Return with me. You have delayed your duty far too long. It's time the world sees what you are." Krael spoke, his voice layered with an authority it never had before.

And yet there was no imposition from him; he may be broken, but his sanity was not something he would parade for the world to see; that was Sael's job... maybe Rael's too...?

Krael returned to reality. He awoke, though he had never slept...

And this time, there was a sharpness to him that had never been there before.

A serenity radiated from him.

The first to notice was Adler.

And then, he knelt in complete subservience.

"Master, I—"