While I was sitting on the cold stone and pulled up the leather trousers, the red demon stood there, looking at me as if he had a front-row seat to a show, making me feel uncomfortable. The problem was, I didn't know how to make him look in another direction.

I took a deep breath, trying to think the situation through. Were demons real? I mean, really real? What did that mean? Was I still exploring the results of a game becoming reality, or was this something else? As long as I was the only 'demon' I knew, I somehow dismissed that thought, but seeing this creature sent shivers down my spine. Everything in its being suggested malevolence— the aura, the alert red eyes that seemed to weigh me, its allure, demeanor, and physical build. Was I falling for appearances?

Was I also such a creature?

And now this 'person' wanted to know if my supervisor had granted me the inventory! What was I supposed to tell him? I had no clues about demons, their society (if there was such a thing), and their organization, but I wanted to give the impression that I was nothing but an ordinary demon, while simultaneously learning as much as possible from him. I decided to answer his questions as evasively as possible.

I nodded, confirming his question while standing up to finish pulling up my trousers.

"Yes, I do have an inventory!"

He had seen that already; there would have been no use to deny it.

He let out a deep breath of frustration.

"You have an inventory, and that's a high-quality armor! You must be very lucky!" he exclaimed. There was clear envy in his voice. "Tell me, having a succubus build did help you to achieve this, or was it useful otherwise?"

I pulled my belt, thinking about his question. A succubus build? Are there no other demons that look like a girl? That was bothering him? Unsure of what he would know or not know, instead of launching into an anatomy explanation about why I had that particular form (I mean my body), I tried to inquire more.

"What do you mean by a succubus build?" I asked.

He huffed. "The lithe form, the smooth traits, the boobs..." he enumerated. "They don't bring fighting power, so why? Just to deceive your enemies? To confuse them? Or to please your supervisor?"

I shook my head, and I may have answered a bit too harshly.

"No. This is my form. It's magic that makes one stronger," I countered, then tried to direct the conversation to a subject that would interest me before he could ask further questions. "What do you do when you pass over the summon? Is there a preferred way?"

His eyes gleamed for a moment as he watched me attentively.

"Do you want to test me? If I ever wanted to pass a summon, I would always think of my supervisor and let him decide!"

Uh, this seemed to be a touchy subject! I wondered how else I could make him tell me how to pass over a summon. This seemed to be the right option, saving me from further summons, but I had no clue how to proceed.

"But if my supervisor is just busy having a summon and I have too many summons and want to share some of them, what would be best to do?" - I finally said.

He looked at me as if trying to assess if I was making fun of him or testing him.

"Is your supervisor taking summons?" he wondered, then shrugged. "You don't need to pass it over to another demon; you can simply think of Ha'Des and let them sort things out..."

"Yeah, correct!" I nodded wisely, breathing in relief.

For a couple of moments I was left speechless. Could this whole summoning thing have such a simple solution? I felt like dying when I got debuffed for refusing those summons! I was still suffering those consequences! And instead I should have simply thought at Ha'Des and let those summons go?

He grinned.

"I cannot understand how can you be so lucky!?" he shrugged, "I am Deriwhan, you can think of me if you have so many summons and want to pass one!" he chuckled, then became more serious, "But now I am good with my summoner; I hope we will stay together for a long time."

There was that moment when he looked like a happy puppy as he said that. I wondered: "Does this mean so much for a demon?"

"I am Lores," I said. I didn't know if shaking hands was appropriate, so I abstained. Besides, I had an excuse—I was holding a pair of socks and boots in my hands. I continued questioning him while pulling up my socks, "How many summons have you made? Aren't you afraid of dying here?"

He shrugged, "Why should I be afraid of it? True, it does take some time until I respawn, but my summoner prefers to wait for me; he does not summon another demon!"

That response sent my brain into overdrive. "Uh oh," I thought, "so that's the only reason one should fear dying?"

I took a deep breath. While he might respawn, I wasn't so sure it would apply to me. As far as I knew, death was pretty final unless you had a druid to resurrect you. But come to think of it, I couldn't recall any instances of druids resurrecting demons in Mephisto. So, that probably wouldn't work for me.

"Oh crap, am I non-resurrectable now?"

I pushed aside those thoughts. There was no way in hell I was going to test it. Returning to my dilemma, while he might be content to die for his summoner, I just didn't share the same motivation.

"How about breaking a summon to save yourself? Have you ever had to do that?" I asked, trying to broach the subject without giving away my own concerns about dying.

He huffed and shot me a sour look, like he had just bitten into a rotten apple.

"No, that would go against the deal! Treacherous thoughts! I'd rather die fighting and respawn!"

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

His reaction had been vehement, almost as if he suspected me of treachery. I was relieved when I managed to come up with a reasonable excuse for my question.

"But what if you were summoned just to be tortured?" I pressed, hoping for a more revealing response. After all, who could argue against ending a summon in such a case?

"Ah!" he exclaimed, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He shrugged and answered surprisingly nonchalantly, "Shit happens. Humans, orcs, and some other idiots do it sometimes, but eventually they get bored and kill you. That's not so bad. Gnomes, dwarfs, and sometimes goblins summon demons for their mad machines, and that's way worse. It may take ages to get free. Cutting the summon's link isn't easy, but in such cases, you should try to do it before they drain you of mana. Some demons even get forgotten, trapped in those machines. The machines get dumped, and the unlucky demon remains stuck in there for eons."

A shiver ran down my spine. Could that really happen?

"But, but, doesn't a summoner have to maintain the link? Is the demon not free after they run out of mana?" I asked, my voice trembling with apprehension.

He shook his head.

"Nah. The gnomes had found a solution by transferring the connection to a crystal. Once everyone had learned the trick, it became common practice. The cathedral in Chodium even had an arch-demon built into its foundation. Can you believe that? They claimed to have defeated the demon, but in reality, they tricked him, chained him, and built him into the wall. You see, even an arch-demon can suffer such a fate!" He grinned mischievously.

"Chodium, a frigid and desolate place for most of the year, transformed into a warm and welcoming environment around the cathedral and its surroundings, all thanks to siphoning power from the archdemon. Meanwhile, day after day, the archdemon endured the humiliation of feeling their boots treading upon him."

"But he got his revenge. He managed to corrupt their minds over generations, and now Chodium belongs to Ha'Des. You don't mess with an arch-demon without facing the consequences!"

He burst into laughter, and it seemed like he couldn't stop.

"And then there was one—the dwarfs used him to power an elevator! Every time someone pressed his nose, he would release energy. They had trained him so well that even after he was freed, any demon could drain energy from him just by pressing his nose." He doubled over with laughter. "I heard that he had to run in the savage wastes to escape the freeloaders!"

I tuned him out.

Alright, Lores, focus. What did he say? Try to sever the summon's link... I closed my eyes and concentrated for a moment, and then I noticed there was a connection between me and my summoner, the catgirl.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I sensed it, like a flexible mana cord binding us.

Okay, I just need to disrupt it, and the summon will end. The question is, how do I do it? Would simply willing it to end work? Probably... It did seem to waver a bit when I 'pushed' at it, so it must be a simple mana manipulation exercise to sever it.

I hesitated whether to try to sever it now or not, to test if it works, but then I decided to postpone it for later.

I opened my eyes, put on the jacket, and searched for something I could use as a weapon. I would have taken the sword of the ratman, but one of the weasels had taken it. I grabbed again a pickaxe as a weapon and picked up the ratman's shield that was still lying on the ground. I didn't have a helm, only the biker's helmet, but that was too uncomfortable to use in a fight.

“How long does it take for you to respawn?” I asked, interrupting his story about another unlucky demon.

He shrugged again.

“We're at a similar level, so it should be about the same. Sometimes it takes longer for my essence to return to Ha'des, but it's usually around the time they take a break for lunch and recuperate, that's what they did the last time I died.”

“Don't you lose anything when you die?” I asked.

He eyed me sideways. “Why do you ask?” he shrugged. “Did you lose something?” When I shook my head, he continued, “Of course, I do lose some of the power I accumulated, that's normal. Last time I lost a very nice dagger, but I got these two instead from my summoner. I hear that it is worse for the higher demons. They may lose memories, like knowledge of portals to other worlds.”

He grinned. “They have many things and can afford to lose something! Me, I don't remember having lost any memory!” He laughed at his own joke, then slapped me on the shoulder. “Ha, ha, ha! Did you get it? I don't remember having lost any!”

I grinned back, pretending to find his joke very amusing.

He didn't seem particularly concerned about dying, but would I also respawn if I died?

Was I a half-demon? The identify spell didn't categorize me as one, but Cala had referred to herself as such. Did that mean I was also a half-demon?

“Is this true for half-demons too? Have you ever seen a half-demon?” I inquired.

His good mood transformed into boiling hate in an instant. He answered, outraged.

“Half-demons! Those degenerates!” he sighed. “Why would you be interested in them? I've never met a half-demon! They don't get summons! They're not born in Ha'Des—those traitors are born unclean, bred with some other species! Us, pure demons, we never breed like that! They wouldn't even respawn, as they weren't born in Ha'Des!”

The sudden explosion of hate made me step backward. He suddenly became suspicious and looked askance at me.

“Are you a half-demon who took a summon? How did you do that?” he asked, a wicked smile creeping onto his face. Was I going to have to fight him now?

He came closer to me, unpleasantly so, and... smelled my hair. I tried to push him away, but he was surprisingly strong. To my surprise, he seemed to calm down.

“You were born in Ha'Des,” he proclaimed, his red eyes fixed on mine. “It's so clear!”

He can tell that by simply smelling my hair?

Can I rely on his smell senses to tell that I am a true demon? Does this mean that I would respawn?

"Spawn from hell, am I, eh?" I thought to myself. Would I lose some of my memories if I died and respawned? Would I still be me if I respawned?

Questions swirled in my head and meanwhile my situation became increasingly uncomfortable. He still had me in a half-hug, and now he was pressing himself against me and sniffing me. It felt like having a giant rottweiler licking my face. I struggled hard not to fall on my back, pushing him away, but he didn't seem to mind.

“I can feel it, I can smell that pure death magic on you, it's a faint smell but you smell so good!! Arrrr...”

His compliments were a bit disturbing, and his clawed hands were now touching me, and he smelled like... charcoal? Muddy charcoal? I wondered, did I smell like dead meat? What did he mean by pure death magic? Do other people also smell that? But I wasn't sure if it was wise to continue the conversation. He didn't seem to be the wisest demon, but rather an easily excitable one.

I tried to put some distance between us, but with little success. It was as if I had triggered something in him, and now he was salivating in front of the cookie jar. I was just about ready to start fighting him for real when he stepped back, giving me more room.

“Take your hands away!” I grumbled, and he did just that with a snort.

It was at that moment that I spotted the catgirl, my summoner, standing behind me. Perhaps that was why the red demon had released me.

"Come!" she beckoned in her meow-purred language, gesturing for me to follow with a finger.

I complied, grateful that she spoke instead of using force and didn't attempt to compel me to accompany her.

I flashed a toothy grin at the red demon, happy for the opportunity to put some distance between us, and he responded with an even wider grin, revealing a set of unnervingly sharp and layered teeth. He had clearly won that contest hands down.

I guess he misunderstood my grin for a friendly good-bye greeting.