Neferura and Mankhaure Geb

A low growl of rage reverberated through the dimly lit chamber, followed by the sharp crash of porcelain against stone. The air was thick, suffocating, as though the very walls recoiled from the fury unleashed within them.

A massive figure stood at the center of the wreckage, broad shoulders heaving with each ragged breath. His black, piercing eyes burned with barely restrained fury, and his brown hair, usually tied neatly, now hung in disarray over his face. Muscles corded like steel rippled with tension, his entire being radiating the suffocating presence of a Grandmaster.

With a snarl, he seized a heavy wooden table and hurled it against the wall. It splintered on impact, the lantern flames flickering wildly in response. More destruction followed—chairs shattered, shelves toppled, priceless scrolls scattered like the remnants of a fallen empire. The once-pristine chamber was now a monument to unbridled rage.