Under the gaze of every genius gathered in the hall, Max stepped into the Supreme Hall. The passage was vast, the corridor opening into a space two hundred feet wide, and directly ahead of him stood three enormous metal doors, each one radiating an aura so ancient and intense that it made the air feel thick, as though the Laws themselves bent slightly in their presence.
Each door towered like a silent sentinel of history, lined up against the far wall, and carved into their surfaces were vivid, almost lifelike images of dragons—each distinctly different from the other.
The first door bore the image of a dragon poised with its claws drenched in flames, its eyes cold, filled with slaughter. Etched beside it in bold script were two words: Crimson Reaper.
The second door featured a dragon soaring upward in a tempest of fire, wings outstretched like blades of molten fury—beneath it, the words: Flame Tyrant.
