Delirium. Edward Elric was experiencing a mental state he had not felt in years. He was proud.
There was something he had done, something that he could not move past – a guilt for which he had, until this point, refused to forgive himself. He had led his brother into a dangerous transmutation that put them both in mortal danger. Under normal conditions – either sober or grief-stricken – he always believed that he should have known better, that the loss of his brother's body had been the result of inexcusable negligence.
But for some reason, this euphoric high led Edward to think of things in a different way. Alphonse did not blame Ed, so Ed should not blame himself. He could almost laugh at how needlessly he had held onto this guilt.
How could he have not seen this before now? That very incident proved that Edward was a good person. Of unquestionable moral character!
The boys had tried to make a deal with the devil to bring their mother back from the dead. They learned, within minutes, that forbidden contracts were highly hazardous to the health of the signatories. For the sake of his brother's soul, Edward had, fully aware of the immense danger to himself, reentered negotiations. He was willing to bargain away what was left of his body.
"Take my arm! Take my leg! Take my heart, you can have it!"
If Edward were an evil person, would he have allowed the Truth to rip out his heart? No.
He was a good person, and at this particular point in time, he was proud unambiguously.
When was the last time he had felt that way? He was called the Hero of the People, someone who had done many good deeds, but his guilt forced him to believe that he had done those things only in pursuit of his own goals – that they did not count.
Now it was not guilt but a concussion that influenced his thinking. If he were awake, pain would be coursing through every nerve in his body. Instead he was in a very happy state of semi-consciousness.
Unambiguous pride. He hadn't felt it in ten years, when his mother had praised his alchemy. What, apart from blunt trauma, made him feel it this time?
Kimblee. Mercy. Edward refused to kill a (seemingly) defenseless enemy. The soldiers of Briggs had warned him against mercy, that it would cost him someday, and they were proven right. Kimblee revealed a second Philosopher's Stone, and, just to be spiteful, laughed at his compassion.
Even after Kimblee's attack had hurled him down the mineshaft, Edward did not regret. He was proud.
He opened his eyes. They shined with that pride. Newly cavalier, he pulled himself up onto his hands and knees.
Blood spilled across the floor. His blood.
It was a lie, he thought.
A steel girder had impaled him through the side.
He struggled, he coughed, he seized, he fell. His hair swept in front of his eyes, and everything went dark.