In a mountain near the raging storm of miasma and energy, a massive metal door slowly rose from the ground.
Its surface was rough and old, showing signs of age. At the center was a carving of a devil's face, its eyes glowing faintly like it was alive. The air felt heavy, and the storm's distant howls made the scene even more unsettling.
The door slowly creaked open , its weight evident in the deep groaning sound.
Asmodeus stepped out, his movements smooth and unhurried, exuding an air of effortless confidence.
He now wore a sharp, tailored black suit with a deep red vest that seemed to glow faintly against the dark fabric.
A long coat with crimson accents flowed behind him, giving him an almost regal appearance.
Even in the midst of chaos, his collected demeanor made it clear—he was not a man to be trifled with.
"Wow, what is that thing?" he said, his voice filled with curiosity rather than fear.
