Dark Dome.
Blinding red lightning meandered, suffused with high-temperature heat waves, every breath of air soaked in sin.
In the darkness shrouded by clouds, a scorched island hovers above Hell's multitude, barren soil everywhere, black smoke swirling, occasionally struck by a bolt of lightning, exploding with a burnt stench.
The island is empty, a rickety long table, seven dilapidated wooden chairs, embodying a beauty of war damage and thrift.
Demon King Council!
Being communal property, no one bothers to repair them, understanding their rundown condition.
This is Hell, expecting Devils to pay out of pocket is folly.
In Hell, seventy-two Devils qualify to attend the Demon King Council, but only seven have the right to sit on the chairs.
The remaining sixty-five Demon Kings may sit; see, such an expanse, sit wherever you prefer.
If you don't sit, scram, and if you keep complaining, you'll be killed!
