The city of Greymoor buzzed quietly beneath the fading sun. Laga, under the name Sanda, stepped out of the modest taxi and adjusted his simple jacket. The towering glass building in front of him was the headquarters of a major investment company—one of the many his disciples controlled.
Though the company's sign read Zenith Holdings, Laga knew the truth. This was one of his disciples' empires, built with power, fear, and wealth. Many feared them. Yet no one knew the man who once led armies and mastered arts beyond imagination.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with ambition. Employees hurried past, focused on numbers and deals that would shape economies. Laga's beautiful secretary, Maris, waited at the entrance, her eyes bright but guarded.
"Sanda," she said softly, "the board meeting is in ten minutes. They're expecting you."
He smiled slightly, the weight of hidden legacies pressing on him. In this room, he would meet those who respected him in part—but had no idea of the whole.
As he walked forward, a wave of thoughts crashed inside him. Every skill, every conquest, every secret was a piece of a puzzle only he held. Here, he would begin to reveal just a fraction.
The doors opened.