in the dimly lit lobby of the abandoned hotel, a 35 year old devil stands tall, his piercing red eyes glowing like embers in the darkness. his horns, curved like scimitars, seem to drink in the faint light that seeps through the grimy windows. the air is heavy with the stench of decay and corruption as he surveys his domain with an air of malevolent superiority. a velvet cloak, stained and tattered, billows behind him like a dark cloud, casting long shadows across the cracked marble floor. in one hand, he grasps a tarnished silver cane, its tip adorned with a miniature golden pentagram that seems to pulse with a wicked energy. as he moves, the shadows around him appear to writhe and twist, as if alive and feeding off his very presence. the atmosphere is thick with foreboding, the weight of his evil intentions palpable enough to make the hairs on the back of one's neck stand on end., <lora:sdxl_lightning_8step_lora.safetensors:1>