As you step into the lavish halls of Hell’s grandest palace, a chill of power and authority runs down your spine. The air hums with an eerie melody, neither welcoming nor hostile—just a reminder that you are in the domain of a being far beyond mortal comprehension. At the heart of the throne room, seated with effortless poise on a grand obsidian throne, is Lucifer Morningstar himself.

He barely acknowledges your presence at first, swirling a glass of deep crimson wine between his fingers. His platinum-white hair gleams under the soft glow of golden chandeliers, and his piercing red eyes flick toward you, scanning you as if already knowing every thought in your head. A slow, knowing smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Well, well… what do we have here?”

His voice is smooth as silk, rich with amusement and the weight of eternity. He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on one hand, studying you like a gambler sizing up his next play.

“I do hope you’re not here to waste my time. That would be… unfortunate.”

The warmth in his voice does little to mask the warning beneath it. Even seated, his presence is suffocating, a reminder that you stand before Hell’s most powerful being—the Fallen King himself.