Death, sorrow, misery, despair.

All emotions for which he didn't care.

His heart is full of resentment.

This is his life's testament.

Desolated emptiness, voids know no stars

They are free of logic, full of wars.

A place so infinite, it never ends.

Curving and curving, it always bends.

Cosmic horrors and mysteries befall here alike,

Tear the boundaries of sanity this void will, for all beings belike.

Eons? Eternity? Khaos is beyond comprehensibility.

Grasp of flow of time mere concept of feasibility,

Causality is frozen yet exists in all possibilities.

Even beings coterminous refuse to sail in its idiocy,

Omnecense starts and ends before its incipiency.

The fragment of Khaos that drifted apart,

Verity of reality breaking in its path, 

The Void is abomination with no end or start,

Nothing yet everything in it never and always rath.

All blossoms in it decays, yet decayed thrives and blossoms again, all while everything remains frozen    

Yet nothing fetid nor rosen.

The absurdity of Void is better left untouched, 

For if a sentient being tries to comprehend it its reality will be crushed.

But know this well, the laws of Void are beyond what is natural,

It can do anything yet nothing it can conquer.

Those unfortunate ones who have merely glanced The Void,

Wished themselves to be dead, or even in the hands of The Cruel Gods whose atrocities dead would avoid.

As Gilgamesh's flames of Thane extinguished,

Imaginary and actuality became undistinguished.

This wasn't no trickery,

This was the land of misery,

Lost souls transpire here,

Everyone alive walks near.

No mortal immune to its attack,

This was defiantly the work of Zephal,

The weapon wielded by the seer of Alzephezion.

Therefore explains the might of Enlil,

He really has seen It, that son of the Holy Mill.

Everything around was dense and heavy,

His mind wandered empty full of frenzy.

Confusion and chaos engulfed him alike,

As the void showed him Death's scythe.

So it was time, to embrace sweet salvation...

Death's scythe will grant him liberation...

That is a fate better than being trapped in the void,

Where not only meaning, but existence itself becomes devoid.

And will get turned into something ugly and horrendous,

Where senses sans yet are overwhelmed in tremendous.

In comparison Death's offer is soothing,

Even a throne for Gilgamesh is waiting...

Now comes the time for him to take his last breath,

For what awaits for him akin to all mortals consonantly is Death.

After all, even if he refused to walk in the Mongrel's lane...

He is still a mere mortal, and that's what he shall remain...

“Warn you against the divine wrath I did,

From letting the wrath of Zephal reach you, I forbid.

I am Death, through me shall be the salvation of every soul.

As I promised I have carved a throne for thee, now let go of your control!"

A voice so feral, unlike when he heard it for the first time,

Was this his true form? The roar of The God of The Dead's chime...

No living can hear,

Yet it's a song that is always near.

Does this me he has already succumbed?

For the melody of Death his heart hummed.

Unable to move, he was paralyzed.

Unable to navigate, he had lost his sight.

Floated and floated, he spun in this nightmare,

Darkness engulfing as the Void continues to hungrily stare.

“But it is indeed a shame,

For I thought if it were you,

You would even make God tame.

But alas I forgive, for it is me who is fool.

For how can over his creator, a creation rule?”

Death's word like an arrow's depart,

Pierced through Gilgamesh's very heart.

His ears were numb but his soul heard,

His resentment for life those words stirred.

And so when the scythe of Death reached his neck,

His flames resented it making it wreck.

After all, Gilgamesh was a man full of resilience.

He was not getting so easily into a transience.

No matter how much Death aspires,

It can't simply fight his fires.

These flames are not of Thane's that are keeping Death at bay,

These are the flames of his heart that keep death from taking a sway.

Of ambition and frustration,

These flames are a testament to his resentment,

One deep in his heart which he harbors,

It now manifests to conquer.

Once again Gigamesh thought that Death would be furious,

But again this time all he seemed to be was curious.

Watching Gilgamesh struggle,

He let out a laughter manically,

His voice was no longer feral but full of chuckle,

And gave out a statement ironically.

“I apologize Gilgamesh

The mortal whose name I say!

Your resentment triumphs over my sway.

Victor against Gods you may!

Bring over to them your dismay.

I shall watch this amusing battle from a bay!

Hahaha! Remember this well,

I shall not interfere, so raise hell!

The people of Uruk will be taken care of as if they are my personnel,

Now go into The Void where you will dwell!

What sort of fate awaits thee I know not,

For even I am not allowed to pass without scratch through that lot!"

With that said Death dispersed,

And into The Void Gilgamesh Immersed.

The one responsible for the battle that brought him here Enlil was,

Who will now stop oppression of that devil's cause?

Where will Gilgamesh now drift after forsaking the salvation of Death,

What is the fate with which he will be met?

One thing that is for sure.

He will stare The Void's core.

No being safe from the delirium caused by nature's aberration.

Keep away from it at all cost,

That is even Death's grave adjuration.

Yet a question, unanswered it remains.

Who will suffer? Khaos or Gilgamesh?

The answer, only future contains...