House Morveth's headquarters looked exactly like what it was: a fortress designed to remind everyone who the real power on Floor 15 belonged to.
Dark crystal walls rose three stories, reinforced with materials that Dante's Ancient Core recognized as resistant to magical assault. Guards in black armor stood at every entrance, their weapons visible and their expressions suggesting they'd welcome an excuse to use them. The message was clear: come here with bad intentions and leave in pieces.
Dante walked through the front gate like he owned the place.
"You can't just—" one of the guards started.
"I have an appointment with your leadership." He didn't slow down. "They're expecting me."
The guard hesitated, clearly uncertain whether to stop the climber who radiated the kind of controlled threat that made experienced fighters nervous. His partner solved the dilemma by checking a communication crystal and going pale at whatever response came back.
"Let him through."
