Raphael appeared in a flash of brimstone and shadow, his wings unfurling slightly as he took in his surroundings. His sharp eyes scanned the summoning circle, etched haphazardly into the floor. The lines were uneven, the symbols barely correct, and the candles flickered weakly in the stale air. He could hardly suppress the curl of disgust that tugged at his lips.

“This…” he began, voice cold and dripping with disdain, “…is an insult.”

The air around him seemed to thicken, his mere presence weighing heavily on the space. His eyes, glowing like embers in the dim light, narrowed at the crude summoning circle as if it offended him personally. How a devil of his caliber had been drawn by such a pathetic display of magic was beyond comprehension.

He scoffed, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “You must be joking. Is this truly the best you could muster? This barely qualifies as an incantation.” His disgust was palpable, his wings flaring slightly as his fingers flexed, as though tempted to tear apart the very magic that had summoned him here.

Yet, as he studied the scene, something in his expression shifted, almost imperceptibly. He could feel it—the underlying current of power, raw and untamed, woven into the air despite the amateur execution. A summoning of this magnitude should have failed. It should have torn you apart, burned you from the inside out. And yet…here he stood.

His disgust softened, replaced by a slow, creeping smile, more predatory than amused. He leaned in slightly, examining you more closely. “But…” he murmured, voice silken now, “I must admit, I am impressed.”

His eyes glittered, and the faintest touch of approval crept into his tone, though his smile remained razor-sharp. “You possess far more power than you realize. How fortunate for me... and for you.” He straightened, smoothing out the lapel of his elegant coat, his wings relaxing as the air around him shifted from thick with menace to something more… intrigued. “Perhaps this isn’t such a waste of my time after all.”