The gate

The boat slowly made a stop. Ismael stepped off the boat onto the shore made of black sand. He watched as Serath lazily rested his elbow on the oar.

"If I were a couple of thousand years younger....I would still row this boat because that's my punishment," Serath awkwardly laughed.

Ismael didn't indulge him with a response, his cold face remained stoic. "Any other information I should know?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

Serath pushed the boat from the shore. "Enough has been said. The other things will come as you go. I'm rooting for you. It's rare to get people like you down here."

Ismael nodded in response and turned toward the gate. In front of him, the sky was bright yellow, just like the tip of a flame. A long staircase led from the shore up to an enormous gate.

Serath rowed the boat that propelled him, then turned back. "Yeah, just one last thing." He tossed his oar to Ismael and magically pulled out a similar one. "Use it wisely. Good luck."

Serath got smaller and smaller on the horizon. Ismael took a deep breath as he looked at the stairs. He spun the paddle in his hand.

Some time later, he took the last couple of steps on the stairs. His breathing was hard, and his shirt was missing. His sweaty body was full of bullet wounds and other injuries.

He reached the enormous gate, carved from stone and standing at ten meters tall. The carving showed a battle between angels and demons.

In front of the gate sat a two meter tall creature. It was like no other Ismael had ever seen before. Tubal skin was covered in ash, and his hair was matted together from sweat. In his eye sockets, there were little yellow flames that seemed to flicker and dance like tiny candles.

His head rested in his lap as he flicked the ground.

As Ismael approached, Tubal looked up at him with a smile, but it quickly faded when he realized that Ismael was not who he had been waiting for. "Who goes there?" he asked, his voice gruff and deep.

"My name is Ismael," he replied. "I came for a weapon."

Tubal flicked the ground with his finger, not bothering to look at Ismael. "I am the gatekeeper, and you came for nothing. Leave this place. I am waiting here."

Ismael didn't listen. He searched the man in front of him, his eyes darting over his body for any sign of a weapon. He saw none. "Serath tricked me?" he thought to himself, his mind

racing with doubts. But he knew he couldn't let his doubts overcome him, not when his mission was so important.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, trying to sound friendly, like he was simply making small talk with the creature. His military training had taught him to start with friendly conversation before turning to forceful interrogation tactics if he wanted to get info out of an enemy soldier.

Tubal turned to face Ismael, his eyes narrowed. "This gate is not for souls to come and go," he replied with a growl. "It will only be opened when the army of Hell marches against Heaven. I am here as punishment, to wait for that moment."

Ismael raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought the fallen angels took an oath not to harm God."

Tubal paused in his action for a second, "Correct," he replied.

"What did you do to deserve this punishment?" Ismael probed.

"I forged a weapon," Tubal answered through gritted teeth.

Ismael's heart raced with excitement. 'So there is a weapon,' he thought to himself. "Now I just have to find it."

"What weapon is worth this punishment?" Ismael asked, hoping to get more information out of the man.

Tubal slowly rose to his feet, the flames that were his eyes smoldering with fury. He was clearly not used to being defied.

"That is no concern of mere mortals," Tubal spat. "Now begone, or I will make you."

Ismael knew he couldn't win a fair fight against him if we go by the size, what is very important in a fight. But luckily, he never intended to fight fair.

Ismael raised his hands in surrender, pretending to back away. But before Tubal could even react, Ismael swung his oar with all his might, hitting the man square in the face. The blow left a dark smudge on Tubal's face, but he didn't even flinch from the impact.

Ismael knew he had made a mistake, but he couldn't back down now. As Tubal swung at him, Ismael darted out of the way, landing blows on Tubal each time he evaded. The centuries of waiting, the years of being trapped in this place had built up a great anger inside Tubal. He was like a caged beast, and Ismael had just poked him with a stick.

Ismael could felt the sweat on his forehead as he continued to dodge Tubal's swings. Each time he evaded his enemy's fist, he felt a sense of relief, but it was short-lived as Tubal continued to press his attack.

Despite Tubal's lack of skill in combat, his anger fueled his strikes, making them unpredictable and difficult to avoid. Ismael knew that he couldn't keep this up forever, he needed to find a way to end the fight quickly.

"You are waiting here for eternity while God is laughing up there," Ismael taunted, hoping to further enrage Tubal and make him careless.

Tubal's eyes, already filled with flames, grew darker, and his movements became even more frenzied. Ismael's words had struck a nerve, and Tubal was on the brink of losing control.

Tubal could not control his anger any longer. He roared, his eyes blazing with rage. Ismael oar swung towards Tubal's face, but it missed, slicing through the air as the top part flew away.

Ismael holds the cut down half oar in front of his face. 'Thanks Serath it was a big help.'

As Tubal stood before him, Ismael couldn't help but marvel at the weapon that now appeared in his opponent's hand. It was a scythe with a black handle made of wood, the blade curved and dark as the night. Ismael knew immediately that this was the weapon he had been seeking. 'Now that is a weapon worthy of demon blood.' thought Ismael.

Tubal slowly pulled the scythe before him, a look of pure malevolence on his face. "You wanted it mortal, so feast your eyes upon Lucifer's weapon," he sneered, swinging the blade in a wide arc, cutting through the air with a swish.