@kuttake
There he stood, a vision of pride clad in gold. A golden king who had garnered the gaze of a false reflection. A reflection deathly pale and clad in black who looked upon him with eyes that glimmered with fury that was contained only just so. Had he any illusions about himself? Of course not. Did he hate the true vision of himself? Who could say. The Alter’s heart, hardened and blackened by decades of depravity and uncontested tyranny, held little room for fickle emotion.
“How fitting it come to this.” Alter’s voice was strange. It carried in it an odd reverberation that penetrated the depths of one’s being. “It is... Poetic. So much so it makes me sick. Have you enjoyed your last days, King of Heroes?”
He spoke plainly, his tone never wavering from its neutral state despite the twisted grin spreading over his face. The prospect of battle, of a true and proper battle, excited him like nothing else. To dominate an expression of himself in combat. What could such a thing accomplish? Alter was a twisted thing given consciousness by the Grail, but his will to dominate and control was his own. If there was any he would recognize as true threat to his rule, would it not be himself?
