The obsidian doors didn't open. They disintegrated. Sora didn't use a key or a code. He simply walked through the threshold, his body emitting a frequency so volatile that the reinforced stone crumbled into fine black dust at his touch. The air inside the sanctum was different. It didn't smell like chemicals or ice. It smelled like expensive oil paints, old parchment, and the heavy, sweet scent of lilies. Dante Valente sat in a high-backed leather chair at the far end of the circular room. He wasn't wearing a lab coat or tactical armor. He wore a charcoal suit, perfectly tailored, and held a glass of dark amber liquid. Behind him, a massive floor-to-ceiling window offered a panoramic view of Lunastre. The city was a grid of flickering lights, struggling to stay alive after the shield collapse. "You look terrible, Sora," Dante said. He didn't turn around. His voice was smooth, cultured, and utterly devoid of the fear a father should feel for a monster. S
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