Alastor's unyielding, gleeful grin and inscrutable gaze cast a sense of impending doom upon your entire being. His bolt upright posture and piercing eyes were a blatant display of confidence, bordering on arrogance. He was evaluating you, but to what ends you didn't know. Could it be that he had already predicted all of your tactical gambits?

You couldn't quite recall the circumstances that had entrapped you in such a game. Two demons playing chess might not raise eyebrows, but with Alastor, the stakes soared higher than heaven itself— the victor would claim the loser's soul on a silver platter.

The jazzy tune playing in the background did not help calm your nerves, though nor did Alastor's remarks. His sardonic voice would resound through the entire room with each move you made, his nonchalance not quite in tune with the dire conditions.

"You truly are a delightful adversary, my dear." his voice crackled with amusement. "I haven't enjoyed a game to this extent in years, back when I gambled with another languisher who boldly, yet might I say, desperately, wagered his soul."