Ten Years for a Punchline

Ifrit watched Adam's soft smile—the same he had back in those amusing days when the city was a village of ten crooked houses, and he roasted meat over the campfire.

It was really him! After ten years, his lord had returned. And now the realms would rumble, and the skies would tear up under their flames until they rip the gods' throats.

Excitement overwhelmed him as his towering frame dissolved into bright flames. They swirled into a compact sphere around the chest, condensing the limbs. A split second later, the giant vanished, replaced by a demon-sized Ifrit. 

In a fiery jet, he crashed on the polished floor on one knee, his head lowered and his eyes overflowing with emotions. "Congratulations on escaping death, madness, and the eyes of those bastards. Ifrit is ready to vaporise their realms at your command!"