Still lies a power in the depths of a fabled dungeon. Its entrance has long been sealed, and the insides to this day are crawling with monsters that feast on the flesh of the unfortunate who'd fallen into its well. Nourished by the darkness of their own wretched existence and the bodies of the challengers that had continued to fall one after the other, the dungeon and its inhabitants remain undefeated.
And yet, as the master of the place yawns, the monsters tremble and the very walls of the dungeon shrink with terror. He is beyond mercy and a fierce devil of deception who loved nothing more than torment and sex. His charming contour may be deceiving, and so might be his many faces, but the power he holds has brought countless gods to their knees.
Like a swarm of fireflies, he keeps their bodies in a jar, still breathing and alive. His walls are adorned by the most beautiful of goddesses, and his place of exercise, with that of male gods whom he uses for no more than fighting practice.
Zephyr, a mortal name for a near-immortal. His past has shaped him into who he is, and though it wasn't a path that he had chosen himself, the way things turned out, he was finally content. At least he was for a century until he was awoken from his dreams. The last piece of his collection of gods had finally been caught, and with his most trusted maiden bringing the prize to him, he knew it was time to stretch his limbs and finally step back into the outside world.