Why was it so bloody hot?
The vast expanse of hell boiled with humid air, magma and ash as I lay spread-eagled on an obsidian slab.
I could feel the sweat pouring out of my pores, which was an exciting experience for an energy lifeform.
The glow of my crimson soul was dimmer and more transparent than ever, almost close to extinction.
The stone I was lying down on was already scorched from the sparks that signalled my vitality draining away.
"Fuckkkkkkkkk... when?"
The mental anguish was bearable; I had suffered worse under higher-ranked demons, but not knowing when my next contract would be hurt far more.
I could see the flames of hell spinning around me.
I can't say I've been the vilest demon, but that didn't mean it was right for the other imps to exclude me from contracts!
I always committed crimes whenever possible and lived greedily enough to be seen as lackey material for the cruellest succubi.
Be a lackey, pillage some villages, spawn some implings, dig a bolthole.
These simple and generic ambitions eventually left me at the bottom of the pecking order, the lowest of a hierarchy of slaves.
I take minor contracts every decade, but I barely have enough mana to last each year.
'A better opportunity will come along eventually' - this flawed logic allowed me to convince myself to live contract to contract since birth.
Then one of those uppity imps serving a Succubi Lord took a liking to me and limited me to a contract every half a century, and I couldn't do anything but accept the consequences of sticking out.
A strong sense of relief flowed over me as I felt the familiar tug of a contract summoning.
Pressure as powerful and repetitive as the ocean tides squeezed me into a small portal, taking me far, far away from the tortuous environment of hell.
********************
I reappeared in a dark chapel decorated with the familiar style of small-time demon worshippers.
Robed figures surrounded a pregnant woman, chanting away in whatever offensive language passed for evil here.
This must be my offering.
"Well done, foul mortals! I shall reward you well for this sacrifice!"
What was left of my weakened soul lept into the woman, womb first, as it always amused me to devour a newborn soul, as if it was an appetiser for the actual meal.
That was, of course, when things started to go badly, very badly.
When I woke up... I was human.
********************
The Holy Knights burst into the underground chamber, roaring with righteous fury, swords swinging viciously at the closest robed figures.
Despite the blood and gore surrounding him, one of the worshippers laughed breathlessly.
"It's too late! You idiots! Does the Count think he can save his miserable wife and child from death?
Then, he will pay for his crime of oppressing the Cult of the Demon God."
A figure recognisable as someone of Bishop rank within the local Church took the lead in condemning everything happening.
Blood flowed across the floor, wiping out the ritual markings required to transport the demon back to hell.
The summoned imp was left stuck in the pregnant woman's body, unable to escape with his weakened form.
"Execute them all. No follower of the Demon God shall survive tonight."
Fanatical priests cried from every corner of the chapel, followed by bloodthirsty knights who gradually killed everyone left.
A middle-aged man of intense grace and natural dignity, armed with a broadsword and protected by gilded armour, watched the events coldly.
"The lunatics are not our match, unskilled and unprepared as they are. Where is my wife?"
An older man, a servant of some distinction, led the descent into the lowest bowels of the ritual circle.
There they found the body of the Countess, still barely breathing, weak enough that a light breeze could douse the feeble flame that represented her lifeforce.
"We need a priest! NOW! Save the Countess!"
The crowd broke into an uproar as the Church's representatives came running, already chanting holy magic and healing spells.
Sunlight doused the chamber in light as beams of divine power came crashing down on the pregnant woman's rapidly dying body.
The trapped inside her found himself being burned alive, faced with no possibility of retreating.
He desperately forced himself into the foetus growing within her womb, gathering all his remaining demonic energy and forcefully possessing the dead child.
The Holy Magic eroded the demonic energy within the imp's new body and soul, forcing him into a final act of despair where he absorbed the power of vitality sacrificed selflessly by the child's mother, originally meant to protect it.
The imp lost consciousness at that point.
Instead, a priest turned to the Count and gave his condolences.
"I'm sorry, your excellency, she is dead. Demonic energy corrupted her vital organs and left her incurable."
The Count allowed himself a silent tear before asking soullessly when she could be buried.
His grief was quickly interrupted by an upsurge in cries of surprise from the priests gathered around the pregnant corpse.
"My lord! My lord! Your son! HE IS ALIVE!"