I was displeased.

My new master, Shara, I learned her name was, sat at her desk in front of me. Completely unconcerned, totally unaware! It was ludicrous. She didn’t even bother to glance around, completely focused on the paper before her.

I got back to dusting the shelves. A horribly inane activity, this, nearly as mind bogglingly stupid as Shara letting her guard down so. What point did it even serve? Sadly, I could not refuse. To do so would be anathema to my very being, now that the contract was forged.

I could suffer through it, however. I must begrudgingly admit to the effectiveness of this shelter. I’d seen neither hide nor hair of anything that could be a true threat. Still, I mustn’t get lax as my master clearly had. To do so would ensure my demise upon my return to hell.

Despite my frustrations, my time here had not been fruitless. I learned much about the concept of “Magic”, a method to create miracles using an omnipresent fuel source called mana. This brought to mind the mana tithe mentioned in my contract, but I had since learned the mana gained was constantly being put to keep me in the mortal realm.

I also learned much about human magic specifically, such as the fact that while they had certain aptitudes towards specific branches, or “schools” of magic, they could practice any school they liked. I found this to not be the case for demons from looking over Shara’s shoulder after I finished my work and she wasn’t paying attention. While I would only be able to practice one school of magic, Shara’s work implied that I would have great aptitude for it. The question of how to manipulate mana remained unanswered.

”Demon, take this trash to the waste disposal bin located in the kitchen inside of this building. This is the only task you are to complete before coming back to this room and awaiting further orders. You must do this task immediately, and are not permitted to purposefully take more time than is needed.”

I grumbled internally. Shara had been nothing if not meticulous in the orders she gave to me. There was no room for interpretation, at least that I could find. Admittedly I was inexperienced in twisting the words of humans.

It changed little, for now. She would have to make a mistake eventually, and then I would end her. I could tell from the information well deep in my being that I was in little real danger here in the mortal plane, my body could be destroyed but I would simply be sent back to Hell. The worm was likely gone after the days (Which I had learned was the name of the cycle where a giant flaming ball would rise into the sky before sinking below eyesight) I had spent up here, and for whatever reason I really wanted to eat a human.

I hoisted the bag of discard over my shoulder. Making my way through the halls, I noted how most of the humans showed caution when I came near, careful to stay out of easy reach. It soothed the indignation I felt at being used for menial labor somewhat.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

While the caution felt good, I knew fear would feel better. Better still would be screams.

Not today, however. Today I would do as I was told, learn as much as I could, and wait. They had to make a mistake eventually, and I would be ready to capitalize.

I made it to the kitchen, a small room nearby my Master’s domicile. A large metal bin sat in a corner, a magical circle inscribed into it’s lid that I gathered existed to stop the smell. I lifted said lid and tossed the trash bag in, then began to make my way back to Shara’s study room/sleeping quarters.

Upon arrival, Shara deigned to give me a passing glance. And nothing else. Frustrating. It may have served to benefit me that she disregarded me so, but it grated deeply nonetheless.

She leaned in towards the paper on her desk. She’d been at it for a while now, just writing and writing. She seemed to be very focused on her paper.

Which made it the perfect opportunity to pry into her work. I had already returned to the room, so the task restriction in her order had been lifted already, and I could easily fit looking over her shoulder into my definition of waiting.

So, I stalked up behind her. I wasn’t quite tall enough to see what she was working on while she was in the way, even sitting down. Thankfully, the metal pile next to her with the glowing crystal providing light was attached to the ground. It wasn’t hard to quietly climb halfway up the pole for a better view.

Apparently, the translation granted to me through Shara’s summoning extended to her written language as well, as I was able to read the script on the page clearly. It seemed to be a log of sorts about me. It included my initial summoning, notes about my injuries (which had already healed), and every order she’d given me so far down to the word.

An interesting piece of information I noticed was the sentence “The summoned demon appears to currently have two mutations.” I could assume Shara referred to my variances, though she hadn’t seen my fire breath. The only other things that were different from the base demon form of my hatch mates, besides my stinger, fire breath, and height, was the darker tone I had taken on after eating some of that lizard.

Also, the sentence specifically used the word “currently.” These two factors together told me I likely had the ability to gain more. Probably from the consumption of demons with those traits.

This was… good news. It was unlikely I would get a mutation from every demon I ate, as nothing seemed to have come from my murdered hatch mate, but this was still an obvious way to gain more power, even if it necessitated more risk.

It seemed my good fortune was to come to an end however, as Shara noticed something was off. She turned around and immediately saw me, less than a foot away from her. She jumped out of her chair, eyes going wide with surprise.

I grinned. Her reaction entertained me. It almost made up for her disrespect earlier… No, actually, not even close.

She narrowed her eyes at me. Now composed, she lowered herself back into her chair. “Demon, go stand within five feet of the spot I am indicating within the room.” She ordered, pointing her finger at the opposite side of the room.

I went over, satisfied. Standing where she had been pointing to, I turned around and stared at her. She held my gaze for a second, before peeling her eyes away and back to her paper. She resumed writing.

She would slip up, today, tomorrow, next week, it didn’t matter.

I would be ready.