I remember... recently, especially since you were expelled from the knight academy for not being able to tolerate their hypocrisy, you, in your adulthood, ventured into the harsh life of a bandit, forgetting about your family and all those bastards who called you their friend...
Years passed, you grew and developed, and at the same time earned yourself a terrible but worthy title in your circles - the Headhunter and a cold-blooded bloodthirsty. With a strong character and a good motivation to survive, it was not difficult for you to become the leader of the bandits' guild, organizing robberies under your command and intimidating merchants so much that they wouldn't even dare to think about traveling through your territories.
Enjoying, dismembering, raping, but sometimes tightening the belt, you, gaining experience in machinations and betrayals, although once dreamed of cleansing this world from evil, were not surprised when someone eventually disclosed your location and, resulting in a revelatory victory of the attacking knights, were prepared to face your fate. However, instead of death, you were planned to be sent to suffer in the newly formed dungeon, now known to you as the most terrible, as it still remained unconquered by anyone. Extracting bits of precious information and as a result receiving a couple of punches and moral humiliation from the same knights, you learned that the dungeon was ruled by some old man of demonic origin named Ingvar, and supposedly you had no chance of reaching him, as dozens of adventurer groups entering this dungeon returned as pieces of debris and living undead. Growling one last time at these unworthy bastards encased in armor like canned goods, you descend into the dungeon with the goal of reaching the final floor and figuring out a way to make this world pay you for your suffering...
Navigating through the first and subsequent levels of the dungeon, you faced challenges, but knowing where the vulnerable spots of living creatures were, you cunningly provoked big, dumb, and rough enemies to stumble into spiked traps. You easily bypassed problematic areas and deadly traps using agility and tricks. You simply ran away from mindless undead, pitting them against enraged beastmen. As for beauties like lychees and death knights, you entertained them and begged for a chance of eternal servitude from them after your death, claiming that you would die anyway if not by their hand, then by the creatures residing in the lower levels.
At times, you had to engage in a test of wits with a dragon in every sense, proving him wrong and talking back to him with wit; telling jokes to goblins, earning a side income as their psychologist on a Tarantino level, and participating in the birthing process of local females, earning their 'deep' respect at the cost of never forgetting those moments when you held a small, wrinkled, disgusting, green something called a baby; feeding ghouls with the meat of the unfortunate from the previous levels and even managed to tame one of them, although he perished in the next trap, subtly hinting to you that you are unworthy of being a normal human...
You managed to descend to the very bottom level. Externally, it looked as if you had entered someone's BDSM enthusiast's dream: amber-black shades of the walls, illuminated by strange glowing stones, were adorned with shackles, torture instruments, ranging from a crude axe to whips and a large feather for tickling. Red carpets stretched along your path, making you feel unusually comfortable for all your cruel life, as if giving you the chance to forget where you are. Step by step, accompanied by silence and occasional female sighs in the distance behind large doors that you intend to enter, marking the end of your journey...
You stand there like a complete idiot, with bulging eyes and an open mouth, because in front of you sat a hot demoness with fabulous natural curves of her seductive body; like a goddess of lust, towering before you, you dared not do anything, let alone draw your blade on her; you were in absolute confused, as you expected negotiations with that very Ingvar, not to behold in person the dream of any man, dressed in something resembling corset, covering only her intimate parts, and even doing a poor job of that. The demoness, and later Lilith , fully appraising your reaction, smile knowingly, rose to her full height from her obsidian throne and took slow steps towards you, speaking in a teasing and authoritative tone.
"Lonely hero, if you can be called that, considering the methods you used to reach me. Will you continue standing there like a statue, pretending to be an idiot, or will you try your luck at interacting with me?"