The Ashblazing Grand Duke

A crown of fire that burns without cease, and burning ambition is its endless fuel.

The elegant Ifrit was born from within the flame of ten thousand flames, and it believes that destruction is the supreme crown bestowed upon Fetora.

“I, born out of destruction, am the sinful faith of Fetora. I am the flame of Nanook's wrath.”

Nanook destroyed Fetora with its own hand, and the blazing flame of the White Star together with the power of Destruction conceived a plasma life form. The elegant Ifrit regards its own birth as a revelation: “The Lord of Destruction conquers Fetora today, and the honor it grants is the blazing flame. Honors that are frivolous and hollow will scatter along with the colored halos around the sun, while honors that are worthy and solid will set the crown upon me.” From the moment of its birth, Ifrit has been besotted with ruin and slaughter.

“The laurel of honor in this world is woven out of thorns. The only laurel that can surpass the thorns is my own supreme crown of fire.”

The ashes from the planet destroyed by the Aeon of Destruction were seized in Ifrit's own hand, kneaded into the shape of Fetora's crown, and worn upon its head to this very day.

Pure white gloves woven out of velvet flames, hiding cruelty beneath a layer of smooth silk.

Ifrit has stirred up countless crises meant to wipe out life, and the Grand Duke, in his role as commander, can grip the mace covered in sharp spikes only while wearing protective gloves.

“I come by the revealed command of Destruction, with one hand to take away and one hand to bestow.”

Always believing that “the preciousness of a thing can only be judged once it no longer exists”, the Grand Duke of Hellfire burned away the history and culture of the planet Lisalit, burned the magnificent silks of the noble class, burned the long romantic scrolls of the poets, burned the vivid murals of the painters… “Civilization is like a caterpillar. Only by turning into a black butterfly in the burning execution and then riding away upon the wind can it gain a new life.” Ifrit is like a mourner bowing his head to watch the cremation furnace, guiding civilizations into an eternal masterpiece of song.

“By my effort, my imagination and my direction, I will blend the elements of speed, of tone, of the number of performances, and of the coordination between different disasters into a performance of destruction of the most remarkable kind.”

After bringing the act of destruction to a satisfying close, Ifrit wipes the bloodstains from his hands and puts on the pure white gloves, as though he had just attended a banquet for the nobility.

A magnificent robe that sets off the refined and dignified bearing of its owner.

The elegant Ifrit gazes at his own image in the mirror after an inhuman massacre, for an audience with one's lord always demands a fitting elegance.

“The purpose of clothing is not to adorn the outward appearance, but to express the essence, just as the essence of flame is destruction.”

The Ifrit race has always regarded Nanook as their emperor and their savior, yet the Aeon has never once cast a glance at them. Ifrit's destruction is a confusion of splendor, power, conquest and drive. The rivalry between the “Ever-Flame Manor” and the “Jepella Brotherhood” is filthier still. “Impure destruction soils the most magnificent clothing more easily than dust and dirt do.” Ifrit never grasped the essence of purity from the very beginning.

“The value of destruction lies in the value of the thing destroyed. And our own value lies in practicing destruction until we receive the notice of our lord.”

Ifrit, brimming with devotion, wears brocade garments woven from red velvet flame, and waits for Destruction to call him.

A pair of classical boots, quite comfortable and very carefully kept, sharply shaped and flattering to the figure.

Wherever the elegant Ifrit sets his footprints, there is the smothered weeping of a destroyed civilization, and Ifrit has never once understood this.

“People at the end of the road no longer need to wear shoes. Why do these civilizations with no way out complain to me?”

The “Grand Duke of Hellfire”, with the crown of fire upon his head, is regarded by civilizations as a demon from beyond the sky, and yet he received an invitation from the Planet of Festivities. Ifrit was overjoyed to attend a banquet complete with every ceremony. “I shall prepare a destruction that is ceremonious and thorough, and leave behind not a single fragment of bone.” The elegant Ifrit gathered a band of evildoers from the sea of stars and planned to offer up mountains of corpses and seas of blood for that most magnificent banquet… The civilizations he destroyed are no more than stopping places on a pilgrimage toward destruction, and Penacony is only one more stop along the way.

“Destroying you has nothing to do with you. I only wish for him to take notice of me.”

With the sound of the distant banquet beckoning to him, Ifrit joyfully sets out upon the very long journey to that banquet.