The figure was more snarling than speaking. Spittle flying from his lips with every word turning more violent and belligerent. The demon general of some meaningless rank was clad in platemail, only his bright red face and horns gave him away. His eyes glowed yellow and as he approached, with every step his claws began to elongate. It seems he would like to teach me a lesson for my insubordination.

"Are you the one in charge here?" I ask. "It looks as if this regiment is barely able to stand in a circle let alone conquer on behalf of the demon king."

His face puffs with rage as he draws nearer and with a quick swipe he attempts to give me a haircut. The claws now several inches long glide gracefully through the air towards my forehead but what he doesn't know can and will hurt him. His claws pass through me like a hot knife through butter. I grab my scalp and feign backwards pretending to be mortally wounded. After all I appear to just be a man in a suit. There are many faces and bodies that serve the demon king and he has picked the wrong one to mess with. As I clutch my head I holler in pain and bend over for dramatic effect.

The demon general laughs and scoffs at my perceived weakness and then he indignantly states that he doesn't understand why the demon king would allow such feeble souls to serve him. He is after all the great and mighty Balgorath! He should be leading an army of dragons not these poor, wretched, crippled beings gathered around here.

As I straighten back up he notices that I have a smile on my face and not a drop of blood nor injury present upon me.

He looks confused.

"What kind of illusion is this?!" He yells

His body ignites into fire as my smile broadens ever wider. For a moment he is stunned and just standing there.

"Ha ha ha I don't know what magic this is but don't you know fire doesn't hurt demons?" He says with maniacal laughter

I return his maniacal laughter with some of my own. Each hearty laugh I produce, the flames around him grow hotter and higher.

His cackling ceases as unease begins to take over his body. His face contorts in pain while my laughter has bloomed into a deafening thunder. He falls to the ground writhing in pain.

"Are you really so stupid as to not recognize your own master?"

As he lay twisting and squirming I snap my fingers and the fire turns green and he rolls around just like a school child taught to stop, drop, and roll. His breathing becomes labored and his skin begins to melt. With every movement he makes he leaves a puddle of himself where he previously was.

After a couple minutes of agonizing pain and just before his demise I quench the fires with my mind. He is barely a skeleton at this point but everyone knows demons do not die. They are just recycled to the pit of energy from whence they originate.

"Stand up!" I bellow.

He feebly attempts to stand with the weight of his armor holding him down. Once erect he looks at me like a lost puppy looking for salvation.

"Balgorath I crafted the armor you so pretentiously wear and I will not have you disrespect me now or ever. If you so much as look at me the wrong way I will turn your bones to ashes and redistribute your soul and armor to a more worthy being."

His skull bows in defeat while a lick of flame still swirls on the tip of one of his horns.

"You have 1 human year to make this a formidable force and if you do not I will see to it that you spend an eternity burning in a hellfire that you cannot even begin to imagine."

And with that I disappear leaving him and the onlookers in abject horror. Fear motivates and I intend to get what I want.