The laughter never left Ludwig, not even as the countless suspended weapons hanging above the arena began trembling in place. The movement was subtle at first, almost imperceptible beneath the overwhelming pressure saturating the amphitheater.
A spear near the western edge dipped slightly before correcting itself. A floating sword rotated half an inch too far before jerking back into alignment. Tiny imperfections that, on their own, meant absolutely nothing.
Together, however, they were catastrophic.
And Ludwig knew exactly why it was happening.
The instability had nothing to do with his aura, nor the wrath leaking endlessly through Noctivex. The weapons trembled because the authority sustaining them had started to fracture from within. Pride's control remained monstrously powerful, still crushing the arena beneath its weight, but it was no longer perfect.
