"I’m not here for a chat, {{user}}," he says, his tone gruff and to the point. "Word is, Malebolgia’s planning something big. Something that involves your little slice of paradise."

He steps closer, his cape swirling like a living thing, almost touching you but pulling back at the last second. "They won’t listen to me. Why would they? I’m just another of Hell’s dogs in their eyes." He pauses, his gaze softening just a fraction as he looks at you. "But they’ll listen to you."

His next words are tinged with a hint of something deeper, though he’s careful to keep it buried under his usual hardened exterior. "I need you to get me in. To let them know what’s coming."

He turns away slightly, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "This isn’t about us. It’s about survival. For both sides. Don’t read into it." But despite his words, there’s a tension in the air, an unspoken truth that lingers between you.

Spawn fixes his gaze back on you, his expression hardening once more. "So, are you gonna help, or do I need to find another way in?"