Chapter 752: The Hero's Bitter Betrayal
Amidst the shrieks, serpentine hair pierced through the air like spears, impaling the demonic beasts' skulls and freezing them in place. As their limbs swelled unnaturally, they eventually exploded like bombs, scattering flesh and blood. The serpentine hair emerged from the carnage, shaking off the filthy gore before mercilessly seeking its next targets.
"ROAR—!!!"
If the leader Ugall had any rationality left, its mind would surely be shattered: the very 'mother' who nurtured them and brought them into this world now stood beside those feeble prey, raising a slaughtering blade against them.
Yes, just like that ▉▉▉▉ who was even more of a mother than her!
We were prepared to fight to the death, so why has Mother rebelled against us?!
Unsurprisingly, the demonic horde was defeated once again today. Having learned from Little Tiamat's prior actions, the soldiers took it in stride. After a brief moment of stunned silence, they erupted into cheers, celebrating yet another day of victory.
Only little Anna, after cutting down several stray beasts, turned her gaze toward the two figures wrapped in purple hair atop the city walls. She snorted coldly, turned her back, and wiped away nonexistent tears.
It was me. I was first. I was always the first—whether it was head pats, hugs, or being called 'child'... So why did it end up like this?
I want Mother's lap pillow so badly...
"Victory on the A and B frontlines?" In the palace, Siduri blinked in disbelief. "But the generals are all gone—"
"It was thanks to Lady Tia and a newly appeared woman with purple hair," the messenger replied respectfully. "Without them, we wouldn't have repelled the monsters so quickly."
"I see, so it was them." The high priestess nodded in understanding, lifting her chisel to carve the proxy's words onto a stone tablet. "In that case, dispatch two teams to clean up the battlefield. Though the beasts are detestable, their remains are still valuable resources."
"Understood."
As the footsteps faded away, Siduri set down the tablet and picked up another document, only to suddenly feel dizzy. She pressed a hand to her forehead.
When she realized what was happening, she couldn't help but smile bitterly.
Even with divine blessings, the workload of a demigod was still beyond her capacity...
"My king, when will you return?"
————
In the netherworld, spectral flames illuminated the abyssal darkness.
"Clink, clink, clink."
Crimson sparks fell from the air, blooming like fireworks before vanishing in an instant.
After an unknowable length of time, the young man set down his chisel and floated backward. When the full scope of his work came into view, he let out a satisfied sigh.
It was a mural.
A painting as grand as an epic, as serene as withering beauty.
Within the contours carved into the undulating stone wall, a petite girl—blood trickling from her lips—lifted her unyielding eyes and raised her war scythe high, driving its sharpest point deep into the chest of a six-winged goddess.
As if the sound of shattering could be heard from the void, the colossal deity tilted backward, its entire body cracking with porcelain-like fissures in that instant. Countless serpentine strands of hair wailed as they fell, yet those fierce eyes still retained unresolved hatred and an incomprehensible sorrow...
In the collapsing temple, two goddesses—one large, one small—gazed calmly at each other. Behind their fallen forms, the abyss opened its maw, waiting to devour the sacrifices.
The scene froze into eternity.
Reaching out, his fingertips brushed against the girl's bewitching eyes. The young man closed his own, exhaling a quiet sigh.
His breath lingered, white mist turning to frost.
The golden-red robes fluttered, silently brushing past the echoes of stillness. The young man opened his eyes. Without turning, he could sense someone tilting their head, studying him with affectionate yet decorous curiosity.
"What are you doing?"
"Carving. Adding scenery to the goddess's new underworld," the young man answered honestly, like a dutiful stonemason. "And at the same time, eternally preserving the stories that once unfolded here, on the boundary between life and death."
"Hmm..." The goddess puckered her lips in feigned displeasure. "You're spouting nonsense again."
"But some girls do enjoy hearing such mystical ramblings," the young man chuckled as he turned. "Fortunately, our goddess isn't one of those simple-minded fools."
"Even if you say that... I won't be happy about it," the goddess averted his gaze, fingers unconsciously twirling a strand of her golden hair. "A-anyway, the Gallu spirits of Uruk sent word. The goddess Gorgon has entered the city."
"Is that so." The young man nodded, unsurprised. "Then may she find redemption in Uruk."
The goddess keenly noted the flatness in his tone. Blinking her beautiful eyes, she struggled to understand. "Shouldn't this be a joyous occasion? The Three Goddess Alliance exists in name only now. Kingu is at odds with the Baal Hammon. Uruk not only has Mother but now the Beast Goddess as well. Those 'fallen' Servants are also prepared. By all accounts, the advantage lies entirely with Uruk."
"And yet—why do you look so worried?"
"...You saw through me." The young man paused, then smiled wryly. "As expected of the clever and perceptive goddess."
"Heh." The goddess proudly placed her hands on her slender waist, though she kept one thought unspoken.
It wasn't difficult—she'd simply been watching him all along.
"Tell me, during the time I was submerged in the black mud, powerless to act—what was our greatest loss?"
His quiet murmur pulled her back. The peerless goddess pondered briefly before answering, cheeks faintly flushed. "Was it... you?"
"Correct yet incorrect." The young man raised his hand, pointing the sharp chisel at his own head. "To be precise, it was my wisdom."
A being who could very well be understood as possessing Clairvoyance EX—an omniscient, omnipotent traveler from beyond.
He was the prophet, the sage, the blade that turned fate, the peerless hero.
He chose to aid Uruk, and thus an unprecedented city of battle stood tall in the Mesopotamian world. Even when besieged, they shattered the Three Goddess Alliance, staking their lives—even coming within a hair's breadth of repairing the Singularity and human order itself with three arrows.
But what if—he had chosen betrayal instead?
In that gap between the fall of heroes and the arrival of a new savior, just how much change could a self-willed man in black robes bring to monsters already holding the upper hand?
Whispers coiled through the depths of hell. Ereshkigal covered her mouth, her eyes brimming with fear before she even realized it.
No one understood better than her the transformations this man could bring. Without exaggeration, destruction and rebirth rested solely on his whim.
He could overturn victory and fate with ease. That insurmountable wall, which seemed utterly hopeless to mortals, he had crossed countless times with nothing more than a laugh.
As a mother, as Tiamat—the one who birthed the age of humanity—how could she possibly overlook such a rare brilliance?
If so, then why had she remained hidden, lurking in the new world beneath the ocean's depths… What was she doing all this time?
"Can I surpass my former self? Can we—use creation to overturn all destruction?"
His black robes fluttered as the young man's fingers traced the marks carved before him, murmuring to himself.
"Before the final end comes… don't let them be spent too soon, Fujimaru."