After some time, a day's length or so, as it was in Hell, The giant winged devil once again returned. A faint smoke rising off it's dark grey, naked body. Pulling a spike out of the tall pillar of stone, he dropped the tormented, undying victim to the scorched ground. Collapsing like a corpse atop the dried pool of his own blood, Mithias briefly whimpered in agony. Grinning the devil raised a hand toward him and magically healed his wounds. The demon spoke with an electrically reverberating deep voice, "Tomorrow, you shall die a new death, over and again, until your soul is broken. I shall make you my eternal slave." His spiked tail whipped softly behind him as he walked off into the smouldering pits, leaving Mithias to rise pathetically to his hands and knees. 

His head of long, black hair hanging, Mithias reached a hand over his stomach. He was restored, for the moment, and couldn't deny within himself a twisted gratitude. Regret still dominated him.