They are not all fuel for my power. The more physically adept become laborers and slaves, toiling away in the halls of my fortress. The kings and emperors make for good trophies, so I imprison them in armor or weapons. Every bit of metal and leather and cloth in my armor is enhanced by the soul of a mortal conqueror.

Even my more favored mortals, the most ambitious and ruthless scourges to have carved a river of blood across the land, are never granted authority in my ranks. Once they are in Hell, they succumb to the environment, become weak and pathetic. They suffer and scream whether I torture them or not. The best they can hope for is to be granted a place in my armor. At least then they can feel some of the power they craved, even if it is not their power to wield.

Only one mortal has ever been promised power in my ranks. When the Blood Witch tore apart my armies, I realized her power would be a great asset. And the fear she inspired in my troops, and indeed myself, was exciting and new. I offered her a place at my side, leading my armies and sharing my power, and I fully intended to grant everything I promised, mortal or not. Our powers united would have been an unstoppable force in Hell, second only to Helel himself.

Regrettably, she refused my offer. If she will not unite with me willingly, I shall devour her, and make her power my own. I do hold out some semblance of hope she will come around to my offer. She is far more interesting than any mortal or demon I have encountered before. It would be a shame to waste such an exciting soul in such a manner.