Chairman Voss stormed into his grand study, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud. The room was a testament to his towering ambition: walls lined with ancient tomes and priceless artifacts, each one a trophy of battles won, both in the boardroom and on the battlefield.
His usually unshakable composure was fractured. His sharp eyebrows twitched in frustration, yet the corners of his mouth curved ever so slightly upward. a rare, bittersweet expression. It mirrored the look he wore long ago when he seized control of the Wolf-Fang Guild, a victory stained with the blood of his father. That memory, buried deep within his ironclad heart, flickered now, unbidden. But this was no time for sentimentality.
