Prophecy of a new king

As Azrael took measured steps, the ethereal gray chains erupted from the ground like serpents on a quest, hurtling toward Ava with an uncanny precision. Just as their razor-sharp edges seemed poised to make contact, they halted abruptly, leaving Ava jolted with shock.

The chains appeared to possess an eerie level of sentience, their pointed tips seemingly fixated on her every move.

"What the hell! Get them away from me!" Ava cried out in alarm, retreating hastily from the encroaching chains.

"It's still a bit difficult to control. My apologies," Azrael offered as he exerted his will, causing the chains to retract slowly back into the ground.

Mortimer, ever the sage observer, interjected with his wisdom, "The chains always seek souls to drag into the underworld. You must strive to command them."

"I understand," Azrael acknowledged, determination etched into his features.

"The Watcher's Gate won't hold you much longer, so we must hasten your training," Mortimer urged.

"Yeah," Azrael replied, his voice revealing the strain of the arduous process.

Ava, energetic as ever, sprang out of her resting place with enthusiasm. "Excellent! It's time for you to learn my golden spears technique," she proclaimed.

"Wasn't that technique quite feeble during our fight?" Azrael questioned.

Ava explained, "Yes, because I was weak then. But now, things have changed."

To Azrael's astonishment, hundreds of shimmering golden spears manifested behind and above her, an awe-inspiring display of her newfound prowess.

"Impressive! You could only summon five before," Azrael acknowledged.

Ava then made a request, "Hey, Mortimer, conjure some of those black figures."

In response, almost a hundred shadowy figures materialized at Mortimer's command. Ava's fingers danced with agility, orchestrating a mesmerizing dance of the golden spears. They rained down upon the dark figures, an unstoppable barrage that obliterated them instantly, leaving the shadowy entities powerless to react.

"It's faster too," Azrael observed, witnessing the relentless onslaught.

"You see, I told you it's great," Ava boasted proudly.

"So, how do I learn?" Azrael inquired.

"Well, it won't be easy; it takes extreme ki control," Ava replied, brimming with pride.

"This ki technique is quite challenging. You must control the ki both outside and inside you, letting it surge through your veins like numerous thrown spears. Then, replicate that sensation outside your body as well. Once you've mastered that, you can begin shaping the ki into spears," Ava explained.

"Why are none of these things ever easy?" Azrael sighed, his frustration evident.

"Such a great technique can't be easy to learn," Ava remarked.

****

For several hours, Azrael delved into meditation, meticulously following Ava's instructions. Gradually, he could sense his ki taking physical form, attempting to mold it into a spear shape. With intense concentration, the ki became visible, coalescing into a dark obsidian spear.

"Good job," Ava praised as she observed Azrael's progress.

"But why is it black, though?" Ava inquired with curiosity.

"Most likely a result of my dark ki," Azrael responded, maneuvering the spear through the air.

Taking aim at the shadowy figures conjured by Mortimer, Azrael launched the dark spear, and upon impact, it unleashed an explosion that obliterated all surrounding shadows, enveloping them in darkness.

"Of course, it's more powerful than mine," Ava sighed, acknowledging the potency of Azrael's technique.

"You must learn to create more," Ava instructed, while Azrael continued his silent meditation.

"Finish that up quickly. I still have more to teach you before you must leave, Your Grace," Mortimer urged as Azrael maintained his concentration.

********

Six months later

********

Deep within the heart of the demon empire, an imposing castle stood as a testament to dark supremacy. It loomed like a malevolent monolith, its towering obsidian spires piercing the night sky like daggers. The air surrounding the fortress was thick with an overwhelming aura of demonic energy, a palpable force that instilled fear even in the bravest souls.

As one approached the castle, they would be greeted by a vast moat of molten lava, its fiery embrace acting as an ominous barrier to deter intruders. Crossing the treacherous expanse required both courage and caution, for the heat emanating from the inferno was enough to scorch the air itself.

Once inside the castle's foreboding walls, one would find a labyrinthine maze of dimly lit corridors, each corridor seemingly designed to confuse and confound. Shadowy whispers echoed within the walls, whispering ancient secrets and unspeakable horrors. The floors were fashioned from dark, polished marble, mirroring the cast of despair that plagued the realm.

Gargoyles, grotesque in their countenance, adorned the alcoves, their stone eyes seemingly following the movements of any visitor. The eerie sculptures seemed to embody malevolence and malice, an ever-watchful presence guarding the sanctity of the demon domain.

As one ascended the castle's imposing staircases, they would find themselves in vast chambers of opulence, yet draped in an aura of decay and decadence. Dimly lit chandeliers flickered with a sinister glow, casting grotesque shadows upon the stone walls.

Thrones of obsidian and bone dominated the throne room, where the demon god Tahataba presided with an air of unyielding authority. His presence exuded a menacing energy that resonated throughout the castle, solidifying his status as a deity-like figure among the demonic denizens.

Throughout the castle, demonic sigils adorned the walls, etched with infernal symbols of power and protection. Candles flickered, casting eerie, dancing shadows that seemed to dance in time with the malevolent energy that thrummed within the very walls of the fortress.

The demon empire itself sprawled beyond the reaches of the castle, an expanse of untamed wilderness and jagged landscapes. Twisted forests of blackened trees and ashen shrubbery dotted the desolate landscape, a haunting manifestation of the dark energies permeating the realm.

Rivers of crimson flowed through the wasteland, carrying with them an unsettling aura that foretold of unspeakable horrors lurking beneath the surface. Mountains pierced the horizon like jagged fangs, reaching towards the ashen skies as if reaching for ultimate dominion.

Amidst the empire's unsettling terrain, ancient ruins and forgotten sanctuaries could be found, remnants of a time long past when dark powers sought to ascend to unparalleled supremacy.

Whispers of an ancient prophecy echoed in the winds, prophecy of the priest's foretelling of a dark force that would rise to claim the throne of darkness and wield unimaginable power.

In the demon empire, shadows danced with malicious intent, and the very fabric of reality seemed to waver under the weight of malevolence.

It was a realm where darkness reigned supreme, and those who dared to venture within its bounds would find themselves ensnared by the sinister allure of its demonic splendor.

Inside the castle resonating with intense demonic energy, lay a being of unimaginable power—a being that far surpassed the strength of this world.

"Was the blade found?" Tahataba's words echoed through the darkness-laden castle.

"We are not sure. Upon arriving, the entire desert was turned to glass, most likely from an incredibly devastating attack," a demon reported, bowing before the demon god.

"And the people they sent?" Tahataba inquired.

"Haven't been seen since. We believe they perished from the attack. At the moment, we have no idea what transpired," the demon explained.

"Leave," Tahataba instructed.

At the command, the demon rose to his feet and hurriedly exited the presence of the demon god.

"I most definitely felt it, so just who is in possession of that blade?" Tahataba mumbled, frustration seeping into his voice. The mystery surrounding the blade intrigued and vexed him in equal measure.