Any dolt with half a brain would've seen that Emily wished to buy time with her innocent compliance. Ifrit was no such creature. He hadn't even understood half of the words he had spoken in the speech, but he had remembered his father, the Infernal King, working the words into his mind. Surely enough, they used to work, long ago. But that was on droves of weak peasants, cowardly kings, and knights of an army slain before their eyes moments before. They had all bowed, and Ifrit thought that this was no different.

When the ground opened up to swallow him, Ifrit scrabbled to get a hand hold, something to keep him afloat, all for naught. His claws ripped the stone down with him, into the cavern, barely large enough for his monstrous body. Instantly, he thought of his tiny stone prison, the granite grip that had held him for so many centuries. Before he could panic, he realized that there would need to be significant magic runes to hold his might- otherwise, it would simply be a matter of time for him to escape. This brightened his spirits greatly, and he began to slam a massive shoulder against the stony wall, mustering all of his force. Of course, all of his hope was dashed as the dozens of runes lit the area up. 

The old Ifrit would endlessly struggle to break the seal, until his body was broken. This was not the old Ifrit. It had been a clear mistake to take this wraiths offer for power. The disgusting monster of shadow and blood had led him to near death in his charge on Paterdomus, and surely wouldn't think twice about rescuing the minion that, despite being a useful wall of meat to throw at enemies, was expendable.

Despair and self-loathing brought these hateful thoughts into his mind, and before he could rethink them, his world was gone. Ears filled with an endless ringing, and eyes filled with a bright light, Ifrit found himself disoriented, and unable to move. He attempted to sniff the air, but was met only with the scent of blood. Not that of his enemies- this was an unfamiliar scent. After a moment, the beast realized- This blood was his own. What would dare approach one as powerful as Ifrit, and make him bleed, not simply finish the job. 

Soon, the world came back to Ifrit, and he managed to get on his feet, legs shuddering beneath him. He found himself back on the battlefield, launched by the sheer force of the explosion. Embedded deep within his flesh was a thousand pieces of razor sharp stone. There were many massive gashes across his hide, and he could feel plenty of broken bones inside. Ifrit was almost unrecognizable now, as he was completely drenched in the thick oily blood he exuded. 

He almost instantly spotted Emily, and could focus on nothing else. Nothing would sway him from this target, short of his own death. This puny magic flinger had gone far across the line of mercy. Ifrit took slow steps, each lurching movement seeming to shake the ground. Though primarily used to be intimidating, Ifrit also felt sharp pains from within his front left leg, and did not wish to test how far he could get with it. 

He approached within a few feet of the young sorceress. He growled, baring rows of jagged teeth, snapping as he got closer. The beast reared back, letting out a mighty roar. Before he could slam his claws down upon the woman, the storm struck, with impeccable timing. A burst of lightning hit him, followed by another much larger blast of electricity. This was enough to bring Ifrit down, possibly for good. Unable to stand, the monster fell to the ground, body smoking much more than usual. His bloody face laid mere inches from the one who had defeated him, and it was humiliating for him. Though Ifrit was far from dead, he was certainly out of commission for now. One last unearthly wail echoed around him, before he slipped into a deep slumber.