"Hmm, are you sure, son?" A deep voice echoed out in a large, medieval, ornate office.
Ignarius Luciferis, a figure of commanding presence, was seated in his opulent office chair, positioned regally behind a grand desk in the heart of a vast and ornate medieval chamber. Bathed in the dim glow of flickering infernal light, his surroundings spoke of both power and heritage.
His long, raven-black hair cascaded like shadows given form, reaching down to his mid-back in a cascade of sleek strands. Each strand held the darkness of midnight, absorbing the surrounding light as if he were a living embodiment of the night itself.
Two long, obsidian-black horns emerged gracefully from the sides of his head, curving upwards with a sense of regality. They spoke of his lineage, his connection to the Luciferis family, and his mastery over infernal forces. These horns, symbols of his power and heritage, further distinguished him as a leader among demons. His red skin radiated an aura of authority and strength, embodying the essence of his noble lineage.
His gaze, a piercing fusion of intelligence and confidence, rested upon his son, Vaelion Luciferis. The intensity of his eyes seemed to bore into the very soul, seeking out every nuance of his son's thoughts and emotions.
'Is this that Vesperia girl's fault?' Ignarius thought, thinking of that Sathanas girl hailed as the genius of her family.
Vaelion resolutely nodded, "Yes, father, I need to get stronger!" He spoke determinedly, his voice carrying the need and desire he had for power.
Vaelion knew that if he wanted to ever surpass Vesperia, his only chance was to leave early for his realmwalk and become a true demon. 'I will not be overshadowed!' He thought resolutely.
Ignarius observed Vaelion; there was a depth to his expression, a mixture of paternal concern and anticipation of what his son's journey would bring.
"You are still too young for your realmwalk," Valerius's deep voice rang out. Seeing as his son was about to interrupt him, he continued, "But... I will allow it." He corrected, watching as a big smile spread across his son's face.
Ignarius knew that even if he had denied his son's request, he would have found another way. So, it was best if he agreed to it and kept tabs on this troublesome son of his.
"Thank you, father!" Vaelion exclaimed, the room slightly heating up as the white streaks on his red skin began to glow a brilliant shade of white, a massive grin spreading across his face.
Ignarius nodded at him, "Of course, now get out so I can finish my work. I will have your sister prepare the portal for your travels." He said dismissively as he turned his gaze down to the multitude of papers before him on his desk.
Vaelion nodded at his father's words, his excitement still evident, "Yes, father, I will go prepare as well." He said, the light already dimming back to faint white streaks on his pale red skin.
Vaelion made his way to the large wooden door of his father's office before opening it and stepping outside, striding purposefully through the dimly lit corridors of his family's mansion. The ethereal glow of flickering infernal torches cast eerie shadows that danced across the ornate tapestries and intricate carvings adorning the walls. The atmosphere bore the weight of millennia of history, a constant reminder of his family's long past.
His medium-length hair cascaded in a silvery waterfall, the strands gleaming with a metallic sheen that caught the ambient light, resembling molten silver forged in the heart of the inferno. Two small, crimson-red horns emerged gracefully from the sides of his head, curving upwards with regal elegance.
His red skin, accentuated by the distinct white streaks originating from his mother's lineage, radiated an aura of authority and strength, embodying the essence of his noble heritage. And his eyes blazed with the intensity of white fire, a reflection of his innate power and the family's connection to the very flames of Hell itself. Each gaze was a testament to the searing confidence and determination that fueled his ambitions.
Vaelion's stride exuded a sense of purpose, each step echoing through the halls with a quiet, yet resolute, determination. The dark corridors, alive with the whispers of the past, seemed to bend slightly in deference to the noble demon's passage.
Vaelion's future was uncertain, a journey that would take him across realms and beyond time itself. But as he walked, a sense of destiny radiated from him, casting his shadow upon the legacy of his family and the intricate tapestry of his world.
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