Fein's gaze swept across the room, his eyes landing on the 36 Satans gathered before him. Among them, one figure stood out like a beacon in the darkness, capturing Fein's attention instantly. It was Lucifer, the epitome of elegance and beauty. His features were chiseled to perfection, each line and curve carefully sculpted. His hair, black as the night itself, cascaded down his back in waves, framing a face that could have belonged to an angel. Lucifer's eyes, a mesmerizing shade of deep crimson, held an otherworldly allure, drawing Fein's gaze like a moth to a flame.
Fein couldn't help but be captivated by Lucifer's presence. It was as if a living masterpiece stood before him, a work of art brought to life. He admired the way Lucifer carried himself, exuding confidence and authority with every step. There was an aura of power surrounding him, an air of someone who was born to rule.
