***
Creeeaak!
The door to a snowy white chamber swung open with a creak, yielding to the touch of a man whose visage bore the youthfulness of springtime bloom, though his true age far surpassed such appearances. This was a testament to his mastery of the universal energy arts, a courtesy bestowed by his ascendance to elevated realms within the pyramid of power.
"Artis, come here, my son."
The man reclined on the bed, bearing a striking resemblance to the newcomer in the room. Yet, time had claimed his hair, leaving its hue lost in life's ceaseless flow. Despite this, his physique remained robust, a testament to a lifetime of rigorous training— a resilience one wouldn't anticipate in a man of his years.
However, when he called out to his son, Artis, his voice bore the weight of a man resigned to the inevitable grasp of time, a force that inevitably will seize every life in its unyielding embrace.
"Father, how are you feeling today?"
