Mephistopheles Remiel let me know she was attempting to write a description of me, and I objected on the grounds that I desired a description which would be accurate rather than laughable. She looks just like her brother when she rolls her eyes, I'll have you know, but she agreed to post my introduction unchanged. Since one can generally trust the forces of the omnipotent to do as they say they will, you will have the pleasure of reading a quality introduction.
The author clearly believes I am important, as I'm on the cover of the book, and for that reason alone I would have consented.
I am a member of the Maskim, Lucifer's high command. The other three are my bonded Seraph Beelzebub, and the Seraph/Cherub pair Asmodeus and Belior. They hardly matter, as they are in charge of the army and have no say in creating policy.
As a Cherub, I am the one entrusted by Lucifer with feasibility and logistics. Our lord decides what needs to be done and then hands over the project so I can find a way to make it possible. I had worked on the construction of the angelic soul for centuries before achieving the breakthrough which allowed us to destroy one. I'm confident that no one else would have been capable of devising the technique.
I've skimmed the nonsense Remiel put in the plot section, and I can assure you she widely misinterpreted my natural contemplative nature for something it's not. I knew what I was achieving, and I'm confident in my decisions--which is more than we can say about a Virtue who is prone to projecting her own longings onto otherwise ambiguous and unconnected data points. My procedure achieved all I designed it to. Why would I second-guess myself after such a brilliant victory?