To slay the clergy

Hell was a city with 90 neighborhoods. Each one with their own distinct reality, each one with their own sense of suffering.
More than that pure overwhelming wrath. They were prepping me to become a demon in Sintdrop.
The temple priests had brought me out of my house drenched in black tar. They had held me over the altar.
Lightening burst and tan down cables from a pointed spire that went thirty meters above the building.
I was electrified and my skin flexed, the force finding it's way into my veins, vibrating uncomfortably in my blood.
I could feel my form changing.
My skin abrasive!
My teeth sharpening!
Claws growing out of me!
But I took their spells of compounded evil and focused it into my gut.
Then i vomited across the pristine surface of the temple floor.
I tore the priests limb from limb and drank from their wounds.
I took their hair and wove a rope.
I smashed the high window and crawled out a monster at last.
What was inside me now was obvious on my skin and body.
I am separate, homeless, hated in every world.
I am eternal.
I climb with fury until I find that spire.
I break it in pieces.
I pull a tooth out of my jaw and inbed it into the metal.

I take a piece of the spire and sharpen against coarse roof plates until I have a sharp end.
Then I seek to impale the remaining clergy. Not for God.
To break my chains of this Inferno.
To crack the skies of this dim existence.
I jump off the roof and wings unfold from my scapulas.
I notice in the gloom there are now two suns. In hell there was never light and now two suns shine down. They illuminate my way to the giants lair, the cleric giant I must bring under, for good.
Those eyes that illuminate the way follow me as if I had no will of my own.