Ryuzaki strode toward the elevators with the fluid grace, each footfall against the polished marble echoing through the cavernous hall.
The first elevator stood apart from the others like a monument to absolute power—its doors crafted from polished onyx so pristine it could have been carved from the heart of a dying star.
The surface was cold and flawless, reflecting distorted images of anyone foolish enough to approach.
Etched into the top of the door in stark, commanding letters that seemed to pulse with their own malevolent energy were the words "RYUZAKI ONLY." Not a request. Not a suggestion. A divine mandate.
As he approached, a thin blue light suddenly flickered to life, casting an otherworldly glow across his alabaster skin.
The scanner hummed with barely contained power, its beam tracing every line of his form from the tips of his perfectly manicured nails to the crown of his arrogant head.
