When Michael awoke he was laying in a hospital bed in what looked to be the foundation’s infirmary.

Michael rubbed his temple, he had a splitting headache. Whatever the heart had done to him had hurt.

Whatever instinct the flesh that hates possessed that drove him to assimilate with the heart had to be insane or suicidal.

Michael stood from the bed and was surprised to find that his body felt significantly lighter. He punched the air a few times and found that his limbs moved much faster than usual. His body had been improved upon, and he could feel much more energy flowing from the crown into his body.

If he had to guess how strong he was now, he’d probably say he could defeat Able on an even playing field, without relying on his flesh that hates abilities or his mace.

His heart beat loudly in his chest. It almost felt like it was being smug.

Maybe I should try to give myself heartburn or something. To teach it a lesson.

Nah, that’s stupid.

Still though, while the heart had helped improve his body by a good amount, but goddamnit was the pain not worth the improvements.

He’d never understand how some anime characters will go through otherworldly pain, just to marginally improve their body.

Michael walked over towards the door and opened it, and was surprised to find several armed guards standing outside.

Michael greeted them with a wave, “Hey, what’s up?”

The guards looked at each other, before turning to Michael.

“Oh, you're awake? Head back inside, Dr. Hearthgrieve will be back shortly to speak with you.”

Michael shrugged, “Alrighty then.”

Michael walked back inside and felt for his soldiers' presence. He quickly discovered they’d been moved back to their storage room.

He sat back down on the bed and patiently waited.

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Several minutes passed before Hearthgrieve came through the door.

“Well Michael, I’m going to need to thank you personally this time.”

Michael grinned, “What for? Please be as specific as possible.”

“Oh fuck off.”

Michael chuckled in response.”

“I’m going to need you to brief me on the last dimensional shift later, but first I need to know if the termination of Shy Guy was successful.”

“Yeah, it went alrightish...”

“Well as long as you got it done.”

Michael motioned towards the door, “What’s with the guards stationed outside?”

Hearthgrieve rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, we were able to confirm that the man you apprehended was indeed an SCP. We had to cross reference all the witnesses, and the major discrepancies between each witness only became noticeable when someone who hadn’t actually been exposed to the SCP took a look at the case.”

“Anyways, because of that SCP most of the people in this facility still think you shot a bunch of foundation staff and then zip tied and buried some random baby.”

It feels like my reputation took a hit.

Michael sighed, “I guess that makes sense. What do you want to do with him anyways?”

A smile spread across Hearthgrieve’s face, “We’ve already apprehended him. Someone with a mind affecting ability that strong will definitely be useful for our amnestics department.”

“Well alright then.”

“By the way, Blackwood wanted to talk to you.”

“Who’s that?”

“Oh, he’s the slug.”

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Michael sat in a small room with a glass case containing a sea slug. A random intern sat beside Michael, he was going to translate for the slug. It was apparently telepathic, but Michael couldn’t seem to hear a word it said.

The intern put on his best old wizardly voice, “It’s quite nice to see you in good health. I can’t say the same for most of those who bonded with a demon’s heart.”

“Hold on a minute, what’s with the voice?”

The intern leaned towards Michael and whispered, “I don’t know man, he told me to talk like this.”

“Alright , moving past that, it was a demon’s heart?”

“Yes.”

“How bad is it that I bonded with it, and what does it actually do?”

“Well, that’s hard to guess. Its effects can be almost random for each user. I'm sure you’ll find out what it can do for you in time. Although they almost always improve the body of their users and remove impurities.”

“Well thanks for the information. You’re also the one who knocked me out when I was merging with it, right?”

“Yes, that would be me. Seeing someone in pain doesn't suit my tastes.”

Michael smiled, “Well I don’t like owing anybody debts. So I’ll repay you right now. I’ve read your file, I know you were once human, how would you like to be one again?”

The slugs story was one shrouded in mystery. He'd once been a great explorer, someone who should've gone down in history books. He told outlandish tales of his adventures, and all of them could to some extent be proven true. Sadly though, for whatever reason he was unaware he'd been turned into a slug, and his name stripped from any book that mentioned him.

“Son, I think you're mistaken. I already am human.”

“Yeah, your file did say you were cursed to think that. Let me rephrase the question. You're an explorer right?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been sitting in this room? Don’t you want to get out there again? I’m sure there's things in this world you haven’t found yet. I’m sure the foundation wouldn’t be opposed to you helping them.”

“I’m an old man, I can’t move my body like I used to. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for me to be out there.”

“I can fix your body.”

He laughed, “Oh, a confident one. Alright then, try your best.”

So he did, and Blackwood walked out of the room on his own two feet.

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After several days, Michael was driven back to his facility, but this time he was put into the back of a car instead of a truck.

He wanted to ask why he was suddenly getting better treatment, but decided not to push his luck.

The trip back to the foundation was uneventful, and when Michael arrived back at his room he was surprised. It actually looked kind of nice. Gone were the heavily disinfected tiles and walling, they were replaced with soft carpet and a pleasant new paint job.

Michael’s bed was replaced with one of much higher quality, and a fancy leather couch had been moved into the room. A T.V. and speakers were mounted on the far wall, and the bathroom seemed to have gone through a complete upgrade.

“What the hells all this, am I actually starting to be appreciated?”

Well, it wasn’t too hard to guess why the improvements had come. It seemed the foundation had likely come to the realization that he could be extremely difficult to contain, and simply decided providing a nice place to live was the best containment method.

They were smart people.

But it couldn’t last forever, and several days later space surrounded Michael and swept him away to god knows where.

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When the shift had ended, Michael stood in an ornate hall. It was similar to how he’d expect the inside of a castle to look. With tapestries covering the walls and extravagant paintings hung all throughout.

The only difference was the floor, the occupants and the nonexistent ceiling. A thick layer of ash covered the floor of the wide hall, and emaciated men and women were on their knees periodically throughout. They openly stared towards the sky, and each appeared to be in different states of decay.

Suddenly one of them was engulfed in purple flames. He burned bright, but didn’t seem to react to the flames in the slightest. As he slowly added to the ashes among the floor.

“That's...ominous.”

Michael pulled out a small plastic bag and put some of the ashes into it. He’d have the scientists take a look at it later.

A concerning discovery he quickly made, was that even after digging two feet deep the layer of ashes showed no signs of stopping.

Michael’s heart began to beat heavily, almost loud enough to be audible.

And then it was, “I believe I deserve your thanks.”

Michael could hear the voice of his heart clearly in his mind.

“What, you don’t speak for a week and then ask me to thank you? Why would I thank you for anything? You’re kind of a prick in case you forgot.”

It scoffed, “Because without me, you would have already died in this place.”

Michael sighed, “Explain please.”

“You’re in the halls of a prince of hell. I don’t know exactly which, they all tend to look the same. But my point is, the demons that dwell in this hall would have swarmed you if I wasn’t here.”

“They scared of you or something?”

“Well...not exactly me. More like the implication us being together brings. You’re a walking pile of souls, literal billions reside in your crown, and I’m the heart of a demon. If a demon has a lot of souls, they tend to be one of the stronger guys around.”

“You seem to be awfully educated on the way things work here.”

“I’m a demon heart, it comes with the territory. Regardless, if you sense anything heading towards us, I’d advise you to run away.”

“Let me guess. Because if they’re not scared of a demon carrying billions of souls, they can probably kill me.”

“Yeah, that would about sum it up. I’m going back to sleep, try not to die in the meanwhile.”

“Weren’t you supposed to only speak gibberish? Is there any chance I can go back to that?”

“My sentience was regained once I claimed you as a host, now stop talking to me, I’m tired.”

Michael sighed and began to infect the people around him.

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Michael idly walked through the ornate halls, and quickly noticed that the people kneeling amongst the ash seemed to be almost everywhere.

He’d already infected quite a few of them, and found their memories to be practically unreadable. They were worn away and fuzzy, and the more emaciated ones didn't have any memories at all. It was like they were barely alive.

He had planned to hand them over to the foundation when he got back, but he didn't think even they could do anything to help them.

Whatever the case, Michael continues to collect samples from the walls and hand them off to his soldiers.

He hadn’t really had a chance to actually do any real exploring in the past couple of shifts. There simply hadn’t been enough time. So he’d decided to make up for it now.

He’d occasionally feel various creatures moving towards him, only for them to turn tail and run once they’d felt how many souls he was carrying.

This routine continued for several hours, which soon turned to days.

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As Michael walked he began to feel a breeze, which was odd. He hadn’t felt any wind in these halls the entire time he’d been here. The strength of the wind continued to increase, blowing ash everywhere amongst the halls. It continued to grow in strength, before stopping as suddenly as it had arrived.

When the ash had cleared, Michael could see that the hall had turned into a wide open room with no exits, with an imposing figure sat in the middle.

The large demon, covered in scale like armor looked down upon Michael. He had long scarlet horns, similar to those of a ram, but other than that he looked human enough. He sat upon a levitating throne of unknown materials, and held a glaive in his offhand.

“It seems the usurper has finally decided to make an appearance.”

Michael spit out the ash that had gotten into his mouth, “That line doesn’t work here."

The demon narrowed his eyes, “Regardless, I should greet you. We often receive Order’s kin into my halls, but you're the first to not be under the spells of this place.”

“Is that what’s happening to all the people bursting into flames?”

The demon laughed, “In a way, yes, they’re simply experiencing an ideal they hold, and all we do is take a small amount of payment in return.”

Michael glanced towards the emaciated people following him, and then to the ash covered floor, “I wouldn’t call that a small payment.”

“Oh believe me, it is. Besides, it was them who decided to take their deals. But I digress, I haven't even introduced myself.”

The demon hopped out of his chair and took a stance. It was like he was trying to pose like a power ranger or something.

“I am the Demon Prince of Pride, and I’ve come to kill you, usurper.”