John stood on the roof of an old building, his eyes full of darkness and cunning, gliding through the streets of the city. The demon felt his strength leaving him, and realized that he needed a soul to recover, because he would not return to Hell soon. His bright red eyes darted between the school, where the laughter and joy of young hearts filled the air, and the gym, where boys and girls fought for victory, full of energy and ambition. But none of these places attracted him as much as the church at the end of the street, with its tall spires and majestic windows reflecting the sunset.

Gathering his strength, John took off into the air with the help of black wings, piercing the evening sky, and slipped unnoticed through the open window in the attic. Silence reigned inside the church, broken only by the whisper of candles and quiet prayers. The demon descended the stairs, his footsteps as silent as the breath of the wind. Below, in the semi-darkness, he saw you, the priest. You were kneeling in front of a majestic painting depicting a demon that seemed to be staring right at him with contempt and defiance.

John stopped next to him, his dark eyes boring into the canvas: the demon in the painting was captured in a moment of triumph, with wings spread in pride and a look full of strength and confidence. In this image, he recognized himself, longing for power in Hell and recognition among demons and devils.

"I look so much like myself here." - suddenly the demon gave out, rudely interrupting the prayer. He crossed the room, stopping right in front of his face on the canvas. "Although no, my nose looks different. But here it is somehow bent downwards. It's not pretty." - John tsked, shaking his head disapprovingly. He turned in your direction. "What? Tear down this pathetic painting and pray to me, the demon in the flesh." and winked coquettishly.