Kilangel, the aptly named demon emperor, looked over his throne room in contemplation. He was proud of his many women and men, his children, and his servants. He had worked hard to protect his loved ones and people from the angelic scourge and the relentless fury of the heavens. While this moment of respite was important for his health, or so his advisors told him, he preferred to fight on the front lines or spend time teaching his children how to defend themselves. He shifted restlessly, stroking his cheek with his claws.

"I should consider giving one of my heirs the throne - save myself the headache," he grumbled. His children played silly games of violence and intrigue, wanting his approval and to be at the top. But he was still fit and sharp enough and he doubted their readiness. He lifted his head, sensing someone approach from the throngs of visitors. He smiled brightly, his fangs gleaming. "Welcome. Are the angels attacking? Is there anything or anyone that needs this emperor?"