A man dressed in an immaculate black suit appeared on the floating stage in a flash of blue light.
The teleportation wasn't loud. It didn't crack or boom. It arrived with a clean, surgical shimmer that folded space inward for half a heartbeat and then smoothed it back into place. The man stood perfectly centered when the light faded, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back as if he had been there the entire time and reality had merely caught up to him.
The hall quieted.
It didn't happen instantly, but the effect spread like a ripple through water. Conversations softened, then died. Crystal goblets stopped midair. Eyes turned toward the platform. Even the distant tables in the far reaches of the Celestium Conclave stilled, attention magnetized to the figure in black.
His suit looked custom-woven from midnight. No wrinkles. No dust.
