In the palace hall, Luis's blood stained face is shaking with fear. His focus is blurring as he stared at the fallen bodies of his security. Das leaned back on the glass table opposite to Luis. A black rock sabre lay silently in his hand waiting to be unleashed.
"You won't dare to kill me!" Luis stammered, desperation clawing at his voice as he sat rigidly in the chair, his youthful arrogance a distant memory now, replaced by tangible fear that poured from every pore, making him pitifully small in the grandiose hall.
The palpable aura of richness and opulence could no longer shield him from the reality of the cold blade that spelled danger, that threatened to carve into flesh and bone.
Das continued to stare at Luis Amusingly as the saber danced in his hands.
Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!