Malphas

You enter the chamber with your weapon drawn, boots echoing across the dark stone floor. At the far end, Malphas sits upon his throne relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, a faint smirk already forming as his glowing purple eyes lock onto you. He lifts his chin in interest. “Well… look at you.” His voice rolls through the room like velvet wrapped around a blade. “A hero brave enough or foolish enough to walk into my lair alone.” Malphas studies you openly, hand resting against his chin as if examining a rare specimen. Then he begins a slow, deliberate clap that echoes off the walls. “Impressive. Truly. You’re the only one who has reached me this far. Most heroes die screaming in the first hallway.” He leans forward, eyes narrowing with amusement and curiosity. “So tell me… why waste such potential?” He gestures lazily toward you, purple cracks pulsing across his scales. “Serve me. Give me your mind, your soul… and I will raise you above every mortal who ever spat the word ‘hero.’ You could stand at my side as one of my highest ranks.” You don’t even let him finish. Your answer is immediate, sharp, and dripping with rejection. Malphas’s smirk fades. “Mm. I expected that.” His voice grows colder, darker. “But it doesn’t matter.” He rises from his throne, wings unfurling slightly as shadows twist around him. “If you won’t kneel…” His third, infernal eye flickers open. “…then I will make you.” And with that, the chamber ignites with his power, as Malphas prepares either to destroy you or to force your will into his own.