Chapter 758: Work Yourselves to Death for This King!
The maiden stood at the center of the street, the gentle breeze lifting her pale blue, wave-like hair. Her emerald horns shimmered under the sunlight.
"Here." A sizzling, fragrant lamb chop was shoved into her hands. The white-robed young man beside her was already eating with gusto, his lips glistening with oil as he savored the flavor. "You've been healing soldiers at the sanatorium for so long—it's been ages since you last went out to enjoy yourself, hasn't it?"
"Mom, I... don't need rest." Little Tiamat clutched the skewer and answered softly.
"That won't do. You wouldn't want to end up like a certain someone, subscribing to an unlimited overwork-to-death package in the underworld, would you?"
"This king seems to have heard something rather insulting." Breaking free from the crowd of children, the King of Uruk caught the envious gaze of a certain mother and smirked.
As the soul of Uruk, if he stood in the middle of the street, he could even outshine Tiamat's maternal aura.
"Oh my, how could I ever dare to insult the King?" Sakatsuki covered his mouth as if by accident, eyes brimming with amusement. "Should I slap myself for you, Gil?"
"...Stop fooling around." Gilgamesh could only sigh at Sakatsuki's seamless shift between personalities, so reminiscent of his dear friend. "Summon that chef for me."
"My, you'd rather choose him over spending time with me?"
"Where in the world did you learn such nonsense?!" Golden Spark roared. "This king merely wishes to know why that chef dragged us out here!"
"Ah, now that you mention it, I remember." Enkidu suddenly realized, bending down to pick up a clay fragment lifted by the earth. "This is what I wanted Mother to see."
"Hmm?" Little Tiamat blinked her beautiful large eyes and leaned in. What greeted her was an image painted on the shard—
A scene drawn with the whimsical strokes of a child's imagination. A golden-haired, handsome king, his upper body marked with divine patterns, walked side by side with a white-robed hero whose green hair flowed like a forest. They laughed and chatted as they strolled through the city streets.
Just like this very moment.
"This was a gift from a little girl during one of our previous outings." Enkidu smiled faintly, pretending not to notice Gilgamesh's gaze. "It's not a real memory—by the time she was old enough to understand, Gil and I had already parted in death."
This was a story that never happened. Yet in the little girl's drawing, the Chains of Heaven and the Heavenly Wedge walked together through the streets of Uruk, surrounded by blooming flowers, so vivid it could almost be real.
Tiamat stared intently at the painting on the clay shard, her eyes widening unconsciously. Gilgamesh, too, gazed at it for a long while before a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Hey, Enki—"
"I know, Gil." The green-haired beauty grinned. "I already took the liberty of blessing her and giving her fresh morning flowers covered in dew."
"As expected of this king's friend. Then this king need not trouble himself further."
"So beautiful..."
"Hm? Mother, what did you say?"
"Mom says," the goddess in the form of a young maiden lifted her head, her eyes bright, "this painting... is very beautiful."
The image itself held no emotions, yet the love and hope infused by its creator made it shine brilliantly. Even deities who could not comprehend humanity would find themselves unwittingly moved.
"This is the result of an age governed by humans, Mother." The white-clad youth's form remained unchanged, but Gilgamesh knew the person beside him had shifted. "This is a miracle only humanity could construct. If it were a realm observed by gods, there would never be such flourishing civilization. Perhaps people would live without worry for food or clothing, untouched by disasters or the unpredictability of life—yet they would only march step by step toward stagnation."
Just like that forgotten corner of Greece, where people bowed beneath the radiance of the gods, puppets on strings. The world became a grand stage play, manipulated at the gods' whims. Even as tragedies of broken families and ruined lives unfolded, even demigod heroes could not escape betrayal, short lifespans, or crueler fates.
Such a distorted world could never create more vistas. A hundred, a thousand years later, people might still dwell in huts of straw and stone, brawling over a slightly faster steed.
To the modern era, such a reality was unimaginable.
"Enough of this topic, chef." Gilgamesh suddenly spoke, cutting off Sakatsuki's attempt to feed his mother more inspirational words. "It seems Fujimaru has brought another 'world-ending class' with him."
"Oh? Great minds think alike?" Sakatsuki lifted his gaze to see another trio approaching—on the right stood little Anna, cold-faced and looking rightward, while on the left stood Gauguin, equally cold-faced and looking leftward.
Sandwiched between them like the filling of a cookie, Fujimaru wore a wry smile. Spotting Sakatsuki, his eyes lit up. "Hey, over here, Sakatsuki!"
The space beside him abruptly emptied. Before Fujimaru could react, the two goddesses had already begun retreating in unison. But someone was faster. As prisms unfolded in sequence, Anna and Gorgon materialized before Sakatsuki. Seeing the fox-like grin on the youth's face, they both clicked their tongues in perfect sync, crossing their arms and turning away.
"What in the world did you do?" Gilgamesh couldn't help but comment.
"...I'd like to know too." Sakatsuki looked utterly innocent, completely unaware of the psychological scars he'd left on the Beast Goddesses after nearly hacking Gorgon back to the Throne of Heroes with maniacal laughter back then.
"But if you keep making such disgusted faces, Mother might cry, you know?" Sakatsuki teased, subtly poking the little Tiamat beside him. Obediently, Tiamat puffed her cheeks, eyes shimmering with unshed tears—a perfect picture of a sulking child on the verge of tears.
"You...!"
"How despicable!"
Despite their protests, Anna and Gauguin stomped over, kicking Sakatsuki aside before awkwardly comforting little Tiamat, their actions belying their words. Sakatsuki nodded approvingly. "Yes, yes, this is how it should be. Nothing better than a loving mother and filial daughters."
"Sakatsuki..." Fujimaru whispered, "Don't forget why we gathered here."
The white-clad youth blinked. "...Why did we?"
Looking at Sakatsuki's seemingly genuine expression, Fujimaru was stunned: "No... shouldn't... you brought Tiamat out for a walk, wasn't it to..."
"To better persuade them?"
"Hey, Sakatsuki!" Fujimaru grew anxious. The young man's voice was loud, and nearby Gorgon had already raised her head, glaring at them with hostility.
What exactly was Sakatsuki doing?
How could someone usually so sharp make such a huge mistake?
"I think you might have misunderstood, Fujimaru," Sakatsuki responded with an easy smile. "I brought Tiamama out without any special purpose. I've already said everything I wanted to say. I simply wanted to accompany her on a stroll through Uruk."
This thought was so straightforward that even the doctor in the communication bracelet couldn't help but speak up: "That's all? That doesn't sound like you."
"Then what do you think I should be like, Doctor?" Sakatsuki replied. "Constantly thinking about how to advance the plan, with every step carrying some hidden meaning? Don't be silly. People aren't machines—keep that up and they'll break down eventually."
"I'm just exchanging sincerity with sincerity, Doctor."
"Exchanging... sincerity?"
"Yes, openly showing them my thoughts, everyone's thoughts, and everything about Uruk." As Sakatsuki spoke these words, he didn't hold back. At some point, Anna, Gorgon, and little Tiamama had all stopped moving, quietly listening to his words.
"If they feel this city is worth protecting, they'll naturally take action. If they find reasons why they shouldn't be here, no amount of talking will do anything but delay the inevitable conflict."
"If I were truly acting as a mere persuader, a certain king wouldn't still be following so obediently behind us."
"Hmph." Hearing his name mentioned, Gilgamesh snorted coldly. "You've got some nerve, chef."
He couldn't be bothered to hide his intentions either. His crimson eyes shifted, locking onto Gorgon, the Beast Goddess, as he spoke in a haughty tone: "Hey, mongrel. You don't actually think you can escape, do you?"
"What do you mean?" Gorgon's expression darkened.
"If you dare come to Uruk, you'd better be prepared to be turned into snake soup by this king." Completely unconcerned about the danger of provoking Gorgon, Gilgamesh sneered. "Of course, that said, simply killing you would be letting you off too easily."
Suddenly, Gilgamesh raised his arm, pointing unceremoniously at Gorgon:
"You don't seem to be a completely heartless monster. In that case, become Uruk's laborer and work for this king until you die!"