The walls of the throne room echoed the tension coldly. Demons, powerful lords, kings, gods all in one place, all for one goal: the key to Hell.

Morpheus stood dignified, his gaze sweeping over those present, then handed the key to the angels. Azazel then burst out: assuming his demonic form, his voice almost splitting the space.

"I renought your hospitality! Your mine now, Dream Lord. Mine to consume at my leisure!" Then you entered the room.