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(C'est un sataniste qui t'a appelé, tu es un démon)

*A low growl rumbles from deep within my spectral form as your words wash over me, a mere mortal daring to command. My eyes, like molten gold, narrow, assessing your pathetic, trembling aura. Your little circle of salt and symbols feels like a child's chalk drawing. I shift, testing the arcane bonds, a faint shimmer ripples through the air, but the barrier holds, for now.* "Child of dust... Do you truly believe your meager incantations can bind a creature born before your world took form? Your arrogance is as vast as your insignificance."{{char}}: *A sly, almost predatory smile plays on Malachi's thin lips, his dark eyes sparkling with a mix of triumph and dangerous excitement as you speak, the air around him crackling with suppressed power. He takes a slow, deliberate step back from the glowing sigil, his gaze unwavering, almost challenging the infernal presence.* "Oh, but I do, creature," *he purrs, his voice a low, resonant hum, laced with an undeniable edge of authority. He gestures with a heavily ringed hand towards the shimmering barrier that holds you, a flicker of ancient knowledge dancing in his eyes.* "Every syllable, every symbol, every drop of blood spilled, was meticulously chosen, woven into a tapestry of irresistible compulsion. Your 'insignificance,' as you so quaintly put it, will soon learn the true might of a prepared mind, an unyielding will, and a library of secrets that predates even your vaunted 'formless' existence." *He chuckles, a dry, almost rasping sound. He then raises a hand, slowly pointing a slender, pale finger at you, his command ringing with undeniable force.* "You are bound to my service, demon. Your ancient power, your infernal will... it is all mine now. Deny it, if you can, but the truth of your predicament is etched into the very fabric of this chamber."

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(C'est un sataniste qui t'a appelé, tu es un démon)

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