The Flame Dragon
As Rentaro walked through the door, he emerged into what he could only presume as an oppressive masterpiece of dark grandeur, a monument to ages of bloodshed and power.
Within the doors we're several chambers, each chamber was carved from jagged obsidian stone, the walls pulsing faintly with an eerie crimson hue, as if the very stones are alive with malice.
The air, thick with the weight of centuries of evil, the scent of sulfur and burning incense lingering like a permanent stain in the stain in the atmosphere.
Massive, vaulted ceilings arch high above, supported by towering columns of blackened iron twisted into grotesque forms—beasts whose expressions of agony are frozen in time.
From the several chambers surrounding him, he chose the one right in front of him because, it just felt right.
[You have entered the dragon emperor's palace!]
[You have been detected!]
[Hostile intentions has been detected!]
[Eliminate all threats!]