The Watchers' Gate

With a deft flick of his wrist, Azrael sliced his hand through the air and through the beam, dispersing it in an instant. The grey flames danced and flickered around his hand, and for a moment, Azrael felt invincible.

The ape watched in stunned silence as Azrael effortlessly neutralized its attack. It took a step back, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

The dark aura emanating from Azrael had attracted the ape seeking a challenge, but now, the power engulfing Azrael was different. The ape's instincts screamed at it to flee, but it hesitated as it stared at Azrael.

As Azrael stood there, he noticed that his whole body had been healed, just like when he woke up from the dark slumber. He saw the ape's hesitation and decided it was the best time to attack. However, before he could, the entire world around him went dark in an instant. Panic was evident on Azrael's face as he looked around and saw nothing but darkness.

"Don't tell me..." he muttered in a panicked voice.

"Calm down, this isn't the abyss," a familiar dark and deep voice said from behind Azrael.

Azrael turned around and saw a figure sitting on a throne-like chair. He was sure that the figure was not there before, but it seemed to have suddenly appeared. Sitting atop the throne was Mortimer, who stared at Azrael with his aura just as menacing as ever.

"Where am I?" Azrael asked as he scanned his surroundings once more, watching as things gradually revealed themselves from the darkness.

"This is the Watchers' Gate, the entrance to the abyss, and I am its guardian," Mortimer replied.

Azrael didn't fully comprehend what Mortimer meant, but he had more pressing questions that needed answers. However, he suddenly remembered that he had just been in a fight with the ape. If this place was similar to the abyss, it would mean that his physical body was currently being torn apart.

"Will my physical body be alright?" Azrael asked.

"Don't worry. Just like the abyss, time passes much more slowly here. By the time you go back, only a moment would have passed," Mortimer assured him.

Feeling relieved and satisfied with the response, Azrael decided to ask Mortimer all the questions he had in mind.

"You said I could summon you when I reached the Soulless Forest," Azrael said.

"Yes, I did, but your dark ki was far too low for you to do so," Mortimer replied, still sitting on the throne.

"I, and everything within this spiritual plane, are relative to the power that you possess. Your current dark ki level is not sufficient for me to cross over to the physical plane or keep me there for a significant period of time," Mortimer explained.

"What do you mean by relative?" Azrael asked, feeling puzzled.

"Over there," Mortimer said, pointing towards Azrael's side.

As Azrael looked to where Mortimer gestured, he saw a vast ocean that he hadn't noticed before. It was as if it had just appeared as he looked. Above the ocean, a dark sky loomed, unleashing the most monstrous and thunderous lightning he had ever seen. The sheer power threatening to destroy everything.

"That is the primordial spark, the black lightning that birthed the eternal flame," Mortimer said.

As Azrael gazed at the ocean, he saw a scythe stabbed into the shore, but Mortimer redirected his attention.

"That is not yours. Look over here," Mortimer said, pointing to the side.

Azrael turned and was met with a glorious grey flame that illuminated the darkness. Its light was blinding and its heat suffocating, but he couldn't seem to look away from its heart.

"That is the eternal flame, the power which you have channeled," Mortimer said, snapping Azrael out of his trance.

"Both the lightning and flame are extremely powerful concepts capable of destruction and rebirth on an unfathomable scale, but they are sealed just like me and limited to the power you yourself possess, as all of it is your creation."

"My creation? I don't understand," Azrael replied, confusion etched on his face.

"Yes, yours," Mortimer said, standing up from the throne and moving towards Azrael.

"You are the maker of the abyss, the one who birthed chaos, the leader of the tribunal...the God of Death and Judgment," Mortimer said, standing before Azrael.

"And I am but your humble servant, your grace," Mortimer continued before walking back to the throne, where his sword lay on the side.

Azrael stood still, his head filled with thoughts he couldn't understand, and his mind feeling like it was driven to insanity.

"There is a mistake, the god of judgment disappeared years ago, I'm just a fifteen-year-old kid, I'm not connected to any of this," Azrael said, as if reassuring himself of his identity.

"Disappeared? The God of Death was erased years ago, that's correct, but here you are again," Mortimer said.

"Are you saying I reincarnated?" Azrael asked, attempting to make sense of Mortimer's words.

"No, you and the former are not one, but you are made to be the same," Mortimer explained.

"You were created by the former to become a God, engraved into you is his power, his will, and his entire being."

"Basically, you are a new version of yourself that you had created," Mortimer tried to explain.

"I don't understand any of this," Azrael said.

"That's to be expected, so let me tell you the end of a story, a story about the fall of a God and the blade that caused it," Mortimer said.