As he watched the young man rise, Azrael was still in a state of disbelief.
He had made sure to make him suffer…
So why was he getting back up?
Why was he persevering?
What sort of strength did the young man possess that allowed him to shrug off such harrowing pain with apparent ease?
Especially the last one.
Azrael had created that for the express purpose of breaking the youth. Yet, contrary to his expectations, it didn't work.
The Reaper snarled, the tenebrous void reflecting his rage. It roiled, restless and overwhelming. Azrael's rage rose the more he looked at the light emitted by the young man.
They were vile, deplorable!
A stain on existence.
They shouldn't exist.
That was the conclusion that Azrael had formed—the sum of his hatred and prolonged exposure to evil.
His heart had long since become empty.
Azrael believed humans were inherently wicked. They had to be, otherwise what possible reason could there be to commit such reprehensible acts?
The Reaper snarled once more, darkness boiling.
"How did you get up?"
The young man turned to face him, a smile evident in his tone.
The void experienced its biggest tremor yet.
Azrael barked a cruel, cold laugh.
The sound echoed in the darkness, ominous, grating. He grinned darkly, the maw of blackness especially sinister. Yet, the young man remained unfazed.
Infuriated Azrael the most.
He lunged, scythe blurring, undetectable within the tenebrous void.
However, much to the Reaper's chagrin…
The weapon bounced off the young man's frame, incapable of harming it.
Azrael's expression darkened further.
This young man's mind…
Conviction had doubtless already made a home inside.
Suddenly, the surrounding void shifted to display a particular scene.
It was one of tension, nerves…
A mother ran desperately, a frightened expression on her face. She carried a small bundle in her arms. Behind her, the sound of snapping twigs followed, hot on her heels. The woman raced onward with all her might.
A distant murmur streamed into her ears.
Unfortunately, in her haste, she tripped.
She swiftly tumbled to the ground.
Reflexively, the mother shifted, landing with her back to the ground. Not a second later, half a dozen spears surrounded her. A few words were exchanged - namely the woman pleading for clemency -, before a lance mercilessly tore a hole through her head.
She died struggling to protect her baby until the bitter end.
Then, as life faded from her eyes, a warrior plucked her infant roughly into the air, with absolutely no regard for its tiny frame.
The warrior took a few more steps, passing through a large thicket of bush, before emerging from the other side. The distant murmur turned into a deafening roar and the baby began to cry. The spear wielder clicked his tongue, hurling the infant down the cliff.
The baby screeched, plummeting to its doom.
"See how vile they are? Who else would be so cruel other than humanity?"
Satisfied that he had made his point, Azrael willed for the scene to change…
He sensed his control over the void weaken.
...Which was impossible.
He was the master of this place!
Azrael cut his gaze towards the young man and discovered that his light had brightened…
Enough to disrupt the void.
The scene continued to play.
Just before the baby hit the water, its descent magically slowed. It seemed one warrior couldn't bear to watch the young infant die.
This time, the space finally listened to him.
The scene changed, depicting a lord of a manor barking at an inexperienced servant.
The maid shrunk under his withering gaze.
And that very act incensed the lord even further.
Spittle flew from his mouth.
In the next second, a heavy slap crashed into the young maid.
She staggered back, a large red welt already forming on her face.
Shock and disbelief filled her gaze.
Azrael grinned to himself.
He cried with mock affront.
However, the Reaper's effort to plant a seed of darkness inside the youth was unsuccessful. For once again, the scene refused to change. It showed the lord leaving with a satisfied grin and the maid standing there in stunned belief before an older, more experienced matron took her in her arms and allowed her to weep.
She whispered gentle words, full of affection, soothing the poor girl.
Azrael cursed, willing one last devastating scenario to manifest.
The cacophony of battle pervaded every inch of the space. Blood dyed the plain a gruesome river. Corpses littered the ground, each one mangled beyond repair. The group responsible for this slaughter danced upon the broken bodies of their enemies.
The sight enraged the opposing troops.
Their eyes turned bloodshot.
A cold cackle escaped Azrael as he immersed himself in the hatred, cruelty and despair.
This was what humanity was.
Savage. Corrupted. Vile.
No sooner had he thought of that, the scene focused on a specific individual. One who did not dance, or taunt, or revel in the death. Instead, his face was stricken with compassion, grief and a startling amount of empathy.
Suddenly, the tenebrous void returned.
The young man fixed him with an intense gaze.
For some reason, Azrael shivered.
He retreated deeper into the darkness, hoping to find some solace.
However, all he found was a chilling coldness.
"Warms one's spirit."
Azrael covered himself with endless layers of darkness. Yet, no matter how much the Reaper tried, the young man's light penetrated all. Staring at that radiance, a hint of envy couldn't help but prick Azrael's heart.
Why did he have to be the only one drowning in hate?
As if catching a hint of his thoughts, the young man smiled and extended his hand out towards him.
"Share your darkness. The deepest, darkest part of your heart. All of it."
The young man's words stunned Azrael.
He… wanted to darkness of his?
This cancerous thing he had received from the warped minds he had reaped?
The Reaper's shadowy body rippled under the intensity of his emotions.
'Ah. How unexpected.'
For the first time in a long, long time, Azrael felt something other than cold, oppressive hatred. He felt warmth. The layers of darkness surrounding him slowly receded.
It was to feel this sensation again.
...To know that he wasn't alone.
Azrael slowly glided over towards the young man, the tenebrous void now soft and docile. A far cry from its previous menacing state. As he stared at the young man's hand emitting soft, brilliant radiance, Azrael recalled his most precious memories.
Of gentle souls spreading cheer and happiness through the land.
A faint smile bloomed on the Reaper's face.
Slowly, he extended a shadowy hand in the young man's direction.
A moment later, they made contact.
A warm current flooded his entire being.
Light and darkness then intertwined.
An expression of relief flickered across Azrael's face.