The Fourth Floor
In a bright white room, stark and sterile, a figure with the head of a beast sat in quiet contemplation. His beastly features - sharp fangs, fur-covered face, and piercing eyes - contrasted sharply with the clinical purity of his surroundings. His clawed hands rested on the arms of an intricately carved throne, each talon tapping rhythmically against the polished surface.
Suddenly, the figure jerked upright, his eyes widening as he sensed an approaching presence. The air in the room seemed to shift, a subtle disturbance that only he could perceive.
His claws stopped their rhythmic tapping, now digging into the armrests with a tense anticipation.
"Another one... coming to my Floor," he muttered, his voice a low growl that echoed in the otherwise silent chamber. His brows furrowed, the lines of his beastly face deepening.