Asmodeus, who suddenly looked like an esteemed patron of the arts, stood within the hallowed halls of the Opera House, his gaze sweeping across the bustling scene of renovation.
This historic venue, where the angelic voices of Maria and the orphanage children would soon grace the stage, was undergoing a transformation to ensure its splendor for the impending event.
The best construction experts, their skills honed to perfection, were scattered throughout the space, leaving no detail unattended.
They worked tirelessly, driven by Asmodeus' unwavering vision to restore the Opera House to its former glory, a testament to his commitment to the preparing for the event.
This event was not merely a celebration for him, but a testament to the power of his connections and the influence he wielded within the industry.
As the final preparations unfolded, the Opera House transformed into a beacon of elegance and grandeur, ready to captivate the discerning eyes of Asmodeus' distinguished guests.
The stage was set, the curtain poised to rise on a performance that would cement the Opera House's reputation as a premier cultural institution, all under the watchful gaze of its benevolent patron.
Satisfied with the progress, Asmodeus retrieved his mobile device and began to meticulously curate his guest list. He summoned the most influential figures in the music industry, the titans whose careers he had nurtured and championed.
With a gracious invitation and the promise of covering the expenses for their attendance, Asmodeus knew he held the loyalty of these esteemed individuals.
They had all risen to prominence under his guidance, and now they eagerly accepted his invitation, eager to witness the spectacle he had orchestrated. Asmodeus smiled, secure in the knowledge that he could call upon their allegiance whenever the occasion demanded it.
As Asmodeus ended the final call, summoning the last of the esteemed guests to his grand event, the scene shifted to the office of the last man called to the event, he was a renowned comedian and one of the greatest masters of ceremony in the industry.
The comedian sat trembling, beads of sweat glistening on his brow, as he gently placed the phone back on its cradle. For seated across from him, in a host of breathtaking human form, was Lucifer, the fallen angel of pride, adorned in the finest of accessories and fashion.
Lucifer's mischievous smile sent a chill down the comedian's spine as the fallen angel rose from his seat and approached the terrified mortal. "Please, your majesty," the comedian stammered, "what do you want from me?"
Lucifer let out a weary sigh. "Oh, I want nothing from the likes of you," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But I am surprised that my dear brother Asmodeus has forgotten to extend an invitation to me for his grand event." A sinister gleam flickered in Lucifer's eyes. "So, I need you to deliver a message for me tomorrow."
The comedian nodded his head vigorously, his entire body shaking with fear. "I-I will do as you say, your majesty," he declared, his voice trembling.
Lucifer's lips curled into a wicked grin. "Excellent," he purred, leaning in closer to the terrified mortal. "Then listen closely, for my message is of the utmost importance..."
Lucifer's mischievous smile suddenly morphed into a sinister grin as he fixed his piercing gaze upon the trembling comedian. "I was never talking to you," he declared, his voice dripping with contempt.
Before the bewildered comedian could react, Lucifer reached out and placed a single finger upon the man's forehead. In a swift, fluid motion, the fallen angel drew his hand across the comedian's throat, slicing it open with a razor-sharp precision.
"Baphomet, arise from the ashes and come alive to be my jester once more!" Lucifer bellowed, his command echoing through the silent office.
The comedian, who should have been bleeding to death, instead began to laugh, the sound gurgling through the gaping wound in his neck. But then, an eerie silence fell over the room, and for a few agonizing seconds, the only sound was the comedian's labored breathing.
Suddenly, the man rose to his feet, his eyes no longer betraying his human nature. Something had changed, a transformation that had taken place in the blink of an eye, and it was clear that this was no longer the same mortal who had sat cowering before the fallen angel.
Lucifer's mischievous smile had given way to a look of pure, unadulterated pride. He had summoned Baphomet, the demonic entity he had once commanded, and now the jester stood before him, reborn and ready to serve the fallen angel's whims.
The room crackled with an unseen energy, a palpable sense of darkness that permeated the very air.
The Morningstar, the majestic fallen angel of pride, was once again plotting something diabolical to assert his dominance and consequences of his actions would soon ripple through the mortal realm and beyond.