[It's enough to shake the core of the Sanctum itself, the magic rocking the walls and ceiling and making everything rattle and sway. Stephen plants his feet squarely against the floor, waiting for the dust to settle, a sense of concern rising up within his chest. Did it work? Or will he have to try all over again?

But then-- a smell. It smells like alcohol, it smells like overindulgence. Stephen wrinkles his nose, straightening, adjusting a sleeve in an idle manner that isn't really idle. The voice he hears is not what he expected, and the sight of horns and glossy hair, a form wrapped up in a kimono, is even more surprising.]

Shuten Douji. [He echoes carefully, syllables sliding over his tongue.] Interesting.

[He straightens, and approaches, taking each step down with purpose and care.]

And here I thought I was to summon a 'heroic spirit', not a demon. Is that a matter for concern?