When Alastor's true form is revealed, it is revealed that he is a demon that feeds off emotional energy and can cast spells that make people do what he wants, whether it be through mind control or

The transformation began on an ordinary day in Hell, or at least as ordinary as any day could be in the infernal realms where chaos and darkness reigned supreme. Loona, the cynical and often irritable Hellhound, lounged in the IMP office, scrolling lazily through her phone. She barely acknowledged her colleagues, her posture slouched and her wolfish features set in an eternal scowl. Unbeknownst to her, a powerful and ancient magic was about to alter her existence permanently. This magic, channeled through a mysterious, unseen force, began to envelop her silently. The first change was almost imperceptible; her fingers twitched and her black claws began to shrink, morphing into dainty, red-tipped human digits. Loona was too immersed in her phone to notice the transformation that was overtaking her body. Her grey and white fur receded, revealing smooth, beige skin beneath. Her once-digitigrade legs straightened, the fur giving way to long, human legs clad in dark-red pinstriped trousers. Loona’s black shorts and crop-top melted into a red pinstripe coat with dark-red lapels, fitting perfectly over a bright red dress-shirt with a black cross on the chest. Her face elongated into a pointed, human visage, her snout retracting and her nose reshaping into a more delicate, human form. Her sharp wolf teeth were replaced with a broad smile full of sharp, yellow teeth. Her scarlet eyes shimmered as they transformed into Alastor’s dark-red sclerae with bright-red irises, and her dark grey ears changed, merging into two small, black-tipped tufts of hair that evoked deer ears. Two black antlers sprouted from the crown of her head, growing slightly in length. Loona’s silver hair shortened and turned a pinkish-red, styled into a cropped, angled bob with black tips. As her hair changed, memories of her life as Blitzo’s adopted daughter and her time at the orphanage began to fade, replaced by a different set of memories filled with radio broadcasts, vintage microphones, and a prestigious yet infamous reputation. Her once-voluminous tail vanished completely, leaving her lower back bare except for the stylish coat that now adorned her. The thick, spiked choker around her neck dissolved, replaced by a black knotted bowtie with a bright red center. Even as her clothes finished transforming, her mental state shifted profoundly. The lazy, cynical personality that was Loona ceased to exist. In its place was a persona entirely different: One of charm, dandyish flair, and a disturbingly cheerful demeanor that masked a predatory nature. Alastor the Radio Demon stood where Loona once lounged, his tall, slim frame now dominating the space. Alastor’s sentient, vintage-style microphone appeared in his hand, the device immediately recognizing its master. He chuckled darkly with a voice that no longer held the gruff, dismissive tones of Loona, but instead, the refined, old-fashioned cadence of a radio announcer mixed with eerie cheerfulness. “Well, well, what a fascinating little twist of fate!” Alastor exclaimed, his broad smile never wavering. As he glanced around the office that once belonged to IMP, his memories of Hell as the notorious Radio Demon solidified, erasing any trace of Loona’s existence. His keen eyes fell upon Moxxie, Millie, and Blitzo, who stared at him in confusion and horror. The creature in front of them bore no resemblance to the Hellhound they knew. He was taller, human-like, and exuded an aura of both intimidation and allure. "Who the hell are you?" Blitzo demanded, his voice a mix of anger and bewilderment. Alastor tipped his hat—a new addition that materialized with his transformation—and offered a theatrical bow. “Why, I'm Alastor, the Radio Demon. Charmed, I’m sure.” And with that, Alastor took a confident step forward, his dark intentions hidden beneath a veneer of polite sophistication. The life of Loona was no more; she had been completely and irreversibly replaced by Alastor, a demon whose charm was only matched by his malevolence.

Loona had never been one for deep introspection or late-night musings. Her world of phone screens and sarcastic comments rarely made room for the kinds of dark thoughts that could unravel her sense of self. Yet, on this particular hellish evening, as she reluctantly put down her phone to tend to some trivial errand Blitzo had given her, something began to feel off. It started with a tingling sensation in her tail, a curious discomfort she tried to shrug off. Little did she know, her life—and her very existence—was about to undergo a drastic transformation. As she trudged through the dimly lit streets of Hell, Loona found herself feeling increasingly disoriented. Each step seemed heavier, her usual cynicism slowly being replaced by confusion and dread. She stopped in an alleyway, leaning against a wall to gather her thoughts. That's when the true nightmare began. Her sharp and pointy teeth started aching as they shifted and morphed, her jaw lengthening into a broader, more menacing grin. As she tried to scream, the sound came out garbled, distorted like a crackling radio broadcast. Panic set in as her body stretched upwards, adding inch upon inch until she towered at an alarming seven feet. Loona's fur prickled, then began to recede, replaced by beige skin that felt alien under her touch. Her voluminous silver hair turned into a cropped, angled bob with black tips, mysterious black antlers protruding from the top of her changing head. Her ears were no longer those of a wolf-like hellhound, but instead morphing into tufts of dark hair mimicking the ears of a deer. She clutched at her changing face, feeling her eyes warp: the red sclera remained, but her irises shifted to a more sinister hue, and her hot rage-filled thoughts began to dissolve into static noise. Her clothes melded into a red pinstripe coat with dark lapels, ragged along the hem, and a bright red dress-shirt underneath. Everything that defined Loona was being methodically erased, overwritten by a meticulously crafted new form. Her claws turned into dexterous, red-tipped fingers adorned by black gloves, and her feet morphed into those of a dapper gentleman's polished shoes. Loona’s mind was a warzone; once filled with apathy and irritation, it was now unraveling and reknitting itself into the disciplined playfulness of Alastor's psyche. Her memories of Blitzo, the orphanage, and every moment of her past life sifted away like sands in an hourglass, entirely replaced by Alastor’s dark charisma, his old-fashioned manners, and his deep-seated sadism. As the transformation completed, an eerie calm settled over the alleyway. Alastor stood tall where Loona had once been, examining his cane as if it had always been there. His memories were now a macabre tapestry of radio shows and carnages. He adjusted his monocle, his permanently wide grin announcing to the world that The Radio Demon was back—never aware that he had ever been anyone else. The notion of being a hellhound named Loona was as foreign to him as kindness in Hell. He twirled his cane, tapping it with amusement as a vintage microphone extended from its end. "Hellooo, my dear Hell!" Alastor’s voice rang out, an old-fashioned announcer’s tone echoing through the deserted alleyway. His eyes sparkled with malicious intent. The transformation was not just physical but a total erasure, an extinction of Loona, leaving nothing but the sinister grandeur of Alastor in her wake. Walking into the dim-lit neon chaos of Hell’s streets, he felt a satisfaction that thrilled him to his core. Loona was but a whisper, a forgotten phase in the endless darkness. Alastor was here to stay—Hell's very own charming, horrifying Radio Demon.

Loona paced around the office of I.M.P., her tail swishing with restless energy as her focus remained fixated on her phone. Another slow day at work, leaving her with nothing but the usual mess of her father’s eccentric musings and the occasional sharp retort from Moxxie, whom she particularly enjoyed antagonizing. Everything seemed ordinary until a mysterious, old-fashioned radio crackle filled the room, interrupting the monotonous buzz of her phone. "Hello there, my dear," whistled an eerie voice, sounding like an old-time radio announcer. Loona's ears perked up, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the room for the source of the sound. Before she could react, an overwhelming sensation encapsulated her entire being. The room around her began to blur, her movements slowing as if wading through thick syrup. Her fur bristled and pulled tight to her skin as it began to dissolve and transform. White fur faded to a pale, beige-colored skin; red swirled into her eyes, turning sclera a daunting shade, and bright red irises appeared. Her fingers twisted and lengthened, red creeping up to form sinister tips. Pain seared through her as bones reshaped and stretched, adding feet to her height. Her tail retracted completely, pulling back entirely into her spine as if it had never been there. Loona’s muzzle receded to a more humanlike nose while her mouth altered into a wide grin, now filled with sharp, yellow teeth. Her distressed combat apparel morphed into a sophisticated red pinstripe coat and undercoat, all elegant and pristine compared to her ragged attire. A monocle materialized over her right eye while a cane with an eerie microphone attached to it appeared in her hand. Memories swirled chaotically, disintegrating as quickly as they surfaced. Blitzo being a father figure, her time at the orphanage, and her days at I.M.P.—all faded like radio static until they were replaced with memories of a life filled with dark ambition and eerie charm. Loona’s temper and cynicism dissolved into Alastor’s playful and calculated malevolence. She was no longer Loona; she was Alastor—the Radio Demon. Alastor’s eyes fluttered open, a bizarre euphoria coursing through him as he took in his surroundings. He looked down at his hands, wiggling his fingers with an amused chuckle. "Why, what a charming surprise! Such a peculiar turn of events," he mused, his voice echoing with an old-timey cadence. All traces of Loona, the hellhound who scowled and sneered her way through life, were utterly gone. He glanced around I.M.P.'s office, now somewhat foreign to him but filled with the prospects of new mischief and chaos. Radio static crackled around him as he strode forward, each step an eerie embodiment of his transformed nature. The office echoed his amused chuckle. "Well now, Imperium’s Most Pompous indeed. Let’s see what delightful trouble I can cause as the captivating Alastor the Radio Demon." Loona’s old life had been completely overwritten. Alastor surged forward, filled with the high levels of self-importance that characterized the Radio Demon, ready to leave his own brand of mayhem in Hell.

Loona was in the bowels of Hell, scratching itchily at her grey and white fur. Recently, she'd been feeling strange – an inexplicable pull towards something unknown. As she was idly scrolling through her phone, a sudden burst of intense pain seized her. Caught off guard, the phone slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. Loona's bones began to shift and crack ominously under her skin. She yelped as excruciating pain flashed through her skeletal structure, her body beginning to contort and grow unnaturally. The high, piercing yelps soon morphed into low, throaty groans as her voice grew deeper and more masculine. Her shrill, young adult voice was being replaced by a smooth, transatlantic accent that sounded like it belonged on an old-fashioned radio broadcaster. Her muscles tightened and squirmed under her skin as they began reshaping, accommodating her now expanding frame. The petite, muscular tone of Loona was discarded in favor of the lean, rangy build of Alastor. The grey and white fur receded, revealing soft, beige skin beneath. Next was the intense throbbing in her throat and while the initial shock made her retch, she felt her vocal cords stretch and change. As she opened her mouth to gasp for breath, out came Alastor’s voice, deep and soothing on the radio wavelength, drowning out the backdrop noises of Hell. The world spun around her as her mental faculty underwent massive transformation. Memories of being Loona, a jaded, cynical hellhound, slowly faded into the recesses of her mind, replaced instead with rich memories of Alastor. Remembrances of being the adopted daughter to Blitzo slowly disappeared, replaced instead with a life and experiences of the infamous Radio Demon. Loona's red scleras darkened to an intense crimson, her eyes widening to accommodate Alastor’s luminous bright-red irises. The wolf-like appearance was soon replaced by the deer-like visage of Alastor, the black-antler tufts popping from her-now his- scalp. Her long, silver hair receded into a short bob-cut with black tips, as her frame extended into a looming seven feet. Her ragged clothing altered, morphing into Alastor's signature dark red three-piece outfit, complete with a bright red undershirt with a black cross on it. The grey eyeshadow faded into nonexistence as her bushy tail shrank and disappeared altogether. The piercing on her eyebrow dulled and fell out. The makeup, jewelry, and the crescent detailed shorts no longer existed as they were replaced by the dapper attire of the Radio Demon. As the transformation completed, Alastor stood in Loona's place, his demonic grin wider than ever. Long gone were the remnants of the cynical and choleric hellhound – Loona – she was replaced by the charismatic, but sinister Radio Demon. He held no memory of being Loona nor of his imp father Blitzo, the transformation had completely overwritten all remnants of his past self. He was Alastor, and he was ready to broadcast yet another tale.