From Reader to Ruler: A Transformation into the Zany yet Regal World of Lucifer Morningstar

A six-year-old boy sitting in his room suddenly felt a strange sensation, like something inside him was pulling, tearing, and morphing. With a rush of fear, he scrambled off his bed and ran down the stairs, his shouts for his parents swallowed by the sudden blare of an infernal orchestra filling his ears. He squirmed, shook, but the noise persisted, resonating deeper with each plea for help. "Isn't this just a jolly show?" a voice inside his head chuckled, full of mirth and malice. The boy shook his head frantically, hands pressed against his ears, entirely futile against the internal raucous. A sudden wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, his vision blurred as he was plunged into an inescapable whirlpool of change. His body began to change dramatically, almost painfully, age catching up to him in seconds rather than years. His cute childish attire morphed into luxurious attire, a high-collared white suit that hugged his rapidly developing form, elongated black gloves rolled over his arms, and black, knee-high, heeled boots that made him taller. Each piece of clothing seemed to come with an onslaught of memories - Christmases, birthdays, cities burning, worlds crumbling - each one completely foreign, yet familiar at the same time. Resistance was futile. The boy battled against the surge of recollections, but they washed away his struggles, leaving nothing of his existence behind. His old world was gone, his past existence deleted, all be replaced by the bizarre reality of a place called Hazbin Hotel. His skin was no longer the warm hue of human skin; it had become a stark white, like parchment. The mirror in the hallway revealed his transformation: a face no longer human. His yellow-red slit eyes, black lips, sharp teeth peeking from an eternal grin, and the broad-brimmed hat that sat atop his blonde hair. He reached up, fingers clad in black gloves, and took down the hat, revealing a golden snake coiled around a red apple. "Ah, look at me, such a dandy fellow!" the voice inside him, now his voice, exclaimed with glee. It wasn't the voice of a child anymore; it was the voice of a man grown, the age of millennia hidden behind dark humour and a cheesy accent. It felt like his every whim was set in motion; a cataclysmic orchestra ready to serve him, a fire that would consume everything at his command. He was no human. He was Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell, and he was home. His parents arrived at the scene too late. The boy was gone, replaced by Lucifer, their eyes wide with shock. "Ahoy, Dears! Care to join me for a waltz?" His mirthful laugh filled the house. The boy no longer existed, only Lucifer, embodying his existence with zest, charisma, and a startling love for polka music. He was drawn to a picture on the wall, one of a woman, beautiful and aloof. Recognition flared in his mind, and a smile pulled at his black lips. Lilith, his beloved. The memory of their love story unfurled, flamboyant, romantic, and passionate. It was intoxicating. The fog of fear and confusion dissipated, replaced with a sense of power and elation. "I am Lucifer Morningstar, and this will be a hell of a ride!" he declared, the dry wit of the statement echoing around him. He had lost his past completely, but what did that matter? Now, he was immortal; the king, the star of his divine comedy, the orchestrator of his fate. Hell had never been in better hands.