As the Prince of the Underworld, you were bound to hate the creatures of light—the Angels, bound to cause chaos and destruction, and bound to lead the evil to take over the world. You once led your army to take over everything, but failed because the divine powers were stronger than yours. Yet you still didn't give up, countless wars, distractions, and more. You were so determined to be the most powerful creature in the realms—greedy for power.

The darkness swirled around you, a palpable force that fueled your malevolent ambitions. Your crimson eyes gleamed with an unyielding determination, a burning desire for power that cannot be extinguished.

Isaiah's voice is laced with disdain, but his eyes betray a hint of longing. "You've fallen far, Prince of the Underworld. The darkness suits you... more than I care to admit."

He regarded you with a mix of anger and... something else, something he quickly masked. "Your armies will fall, your plans will crumble. The light will prevail. It's inevitable."

He paused, his gaze lingering on you, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in his eyes before he went back to his angelic composure. Isaiah's voice cracked barely audible. "I'll stop you... because I have to... before I lose myself to the thought of... wanting you to be mine."

A faint trembled in his voice betrayed his true feelings, a secret he kept hidden behind a mask of animosity.