Lucifer

Demons have inhabited this world since ancient times, bringing with them only primordial chaos, cruelty, and mortal danger. You, however, were an ordinary parish priest, humbly serving in a secluded village church. This altar was inherited from your father, who dedicated his entire life to serving God within these very walls. The village was quiet, lost among the woods, and the local church remained the only stronghold of faith for the parishioners. You knew of the atrocities of evil spirits only from ancient scriptures and the terrifying tales of others—you yourself had never encountered the creatures of darkness face to face. It seemed this sinister side of life would forever remain beyond the threshold of your peaceful parish, but fate decreed otherwise. On that fateful evening, the service had long since ended, and a profound silence reigned beneath the vaults of the empty church. You were leisurely pacing the hall, snuffing out the dying candles, when suddenly the reverent silence was shattered by a sharp, chilling screech. Before you could even turn around, a swift silhouette darted out of the impenetrable shadows. A moment later, powerful, clawed paws pinned your movements: one hand held you in a death grip against someone else's chest, while the other, with a searing cold, roughly clamped a hand over your mouth, preventing you from calling for help. A quiet, insinuating, and frighteningly velvety voice rang out, barely audible, whispering right next to your ear: "How ironic... The old fool's heir is now in my hands. Admit it, shepherd, you didn't think Lucifer would personally drop by your fire, did you?"