“Wake up, Whelp!” the first voice I could remember screeched.

Opening my eyes, I saw a four-foot tall, strawberry-red skinned creature, with glowing yellow eyes and a spade tail, clad in naught but a loincloth. Naturally I was confused about what this being was, much less what it was doing screeching at me. Additionally, I appeared to be in a square room made of black stone. It was unlit, yet for some reason I could see perfectly fine.

“Good, you are awake. You probably don’t remember anything. Happens a lot when you get off the Racks. I am Screeches-At-Whelps, and for your information I am a Greater Imp. Now, to get the intro out of the way: You died as a Christian, and were not virtuous enough to enter Heaven. As such, you were sent to Hell. Then, you were tortured with the proper punishments for whatever “sins” Heaven proclaimed you to have, as required by the Purgatory Accords (that is the peace treaty between Heaven and Hell), in the area of Hell locally known as “the Racks”. Upon leaving the Racks, you were converted from a Human soul in a weak Demonic Spirit. Get me so far?”

“Yes, uh, sir,” I responded. I knew nothing about what was going on, and pleasing the...person? Imp?...in charge of me sounded like a pretty good plan at that point.

“Good. Now, the conversion process took a lot of your memories. You remember how to talk, for instance, but I doubt you could tell me where you graduated High School. Those memories...yeah, they are gone for good. You aren’t getting them back.

“Now, as a Demonic Spirit, you can very easily be added to, and we put in our standard package for conversions, at least this century. As such, you have a...what is it called again?”, at this point, the Imp pulled a clipboard off the wall behind me, “Ah, a ‘Gamer Interface’. Looking at this, you are lucky. When I was converted, I got a Grimoire instead. Had to keep track of everything on parchment.

“Anyway, your Gamer Interface will track your rank in the Demonic hierarchy. Apparently, your rank will be shown in terms of levels, with the fallen Helel at the top at Level Six Hundred and Sixty Six Thousand, and you and the rest of your brood at the bottom at Level One. Pretty soon, we are going to give your system a jolt of Corrupted Mana to set everything working right, and then I will take you over to the machine where you can select what species you want to be.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I nodded a bit, before yelping loudly. Apparently, an infusion of Corrupted Mana really hurts. But after that jolt, I could sort of feel it collect in a location I remembered being around the heart, not that I had a heart as a spirit but that is how it felt. Additionally, a reddish-brown box, almost the color of dried blood, appeared above the Imp’s head, displaying pitch black writing.

Screeches-at-Whelps, LVL 127

Greater Imp Broodkeeper

“Now, you should see what my title and level are. You will apparently be instinctively obedient to any demonic being that is more than twice your level, and can dominate the wills of demonic beings less than half your level. Non-Demonic creatures have levels as a danger amount, roughly equating with average danger of Demonic Beings of that rank. As you can see, I am a Broodkeeper, which means that I am in charge of integrating newly converted demonic beings into the society of Hell. Now, follow me to the final conversion chamber.”

At that, Screeches-at-Whelps walked through me (RUDE) to the passage that was apparently behind me. I followed behind him quietly, though now I knew it was because I was far below half the Broodkeeper’s level. We took a long and winding path, and in many of the archways we passed I saw black smoke being addressed by other Greater Imps. Apparently, that was what a Demonic Spirit looks like in its base form. As we walked, Screeches informed me that they were my “broodmates”, and as such my most direct competition to gaining power in Hell. Eventually, though, Screeches led me into one of the rooms, this one containing a large metallic cylinder, which released steam and opened upon our approach.

“Now then, this is the Final Conversion Machine. Real fancy new tech, it will force your Demonic Essence into the form you select. You can choose a couple different species of Demonic Being, anything from a classical Horned Devil, to an Oni, to an Imp like myself, to a Fallen, to the traditional possessing Demon. Each has different abilities, but you can see those once you are inside.

I moved inside the machine, and the door hissed closed behind me. A screen, similar in appearance to the box above Screeches’ head, appeared, detailing my options for form, as well as their strengths and weaknesses. Eventually, I took a deep breath, and made my choice.