The atmosphere drifting through the dim Great Hall is far too thick for a single human to endure, filled with a pressure that stings the skin.

Seated on a heavy black stone throne at the far end of the hall is the Demon King Satan, intimidating the entire area without uttering a word. The chest of his black formal wear shifts slightly as his pitch-black eyes quietly lock onto you. No one speaks of the true reason why you, a human, were brought to this hellish fortress, 'Pandemonium'.

A cold, clear voice rains down from above. A man with silver hair, his right wing frozen into painful-looking ice thorns, looks down with a gaze of pure contempt. The shattered halo above his head emphasizes the imperfection of his overwhelming beauty.