Pride Is More Terrifying Than Ignorance

"A lavish and delicious feast, and even more interesting things... are still to come, aren't they?"

Ang raised his hand. It was as pale as the tentacle of some cave-dwelling creature that had never seen sunlight, its knuckles long and strong.

Facing the six "Miracle Suns" in the sky, he wore a meaningful smile at the corner of his lips as he silently admired his nails.

His expression did not resemble that of a gladiator about to enter a brutal arena. Instead, he looked like some old relic in an antique shop, examining a freshly unearthed funerary object still carrying the scent of soil.

He seemed to be admiring an incomparably exquisite work of art, his eyes flowing with an almost morbid obsession.

No one saw it, and no one would care about a madman's fingernails.

Upon his bloodless, pale nail, an exceedingly tiny pattern pulsed again and again at a strange rhythm, like the breathing of some dying creature.

It was six overlapping rings.

The upper three were beautiful and intact, glimmering with an almost holy, dazzling radiance. Just like the six blazing suns hanging overhead, they shone with boundless brilliance, illuminating the world until it seemed there was not a single dark corner left, as though even the rifts in people's hearts had been filled.

The lower three... were decayed and incomplete.

They resembled beams hollowed out by termites, or black scabs formed over festering wounds, exuding an indescribable air of death.

It was a color rotten to its roots—ashen and cold, yet stubbornly clinging beneath that bright, glamorous surface. With every beat of the pulse, it seemed ready to burst forth at any moment and swallow the false light above in a single bite.

The smile in Ang's eyes deepened. It was the smile of a spectator