Humbaba was dead.
He was incinerated before [The Star of Creation that Sunders Heaven and Earth - Enuma Elish], unable to even resist.
"I cannot say what would have happened had it been a complete Beast, but did you think I would struggle against a mere half-measure?"
The wound on her chest had long since healed. The treasury was overflowing with elixirs capable of regenerating a heart.
She had merely been caught off guard by the unexpected situation. The Beast, having failed to achieve a full awakening, was no match for Gilgamesh.
She removed her armor and put Ea away.
It was over.
She stared blankly at the ashes scattering on the wind.
Another great deed had been added to her grand epic, yet she felt no joy.
Marduk. Calling out his name, she kicked a stone on the ground and grumbled.
"To defy me to the very end. Such heinous irreverence. It is a sin that could not be forgiven even were you to die ten thousand times."
It was not dissatisfaction with one who had not looked back at her in the end.
It was the fury of a supreme and sublime king towards a commoner who failed to show proper reverence.
Gilgamesh believed this firmly.
And since the king believed it, it was surely an undeniable fact.
"...However, I shall forgive you."
At the last wisp of ash drifting away, she unconsciously reached out her hand.
"Some things are beautiful precisely because they cannot be held."
"Gil? What were you saying?"
"It is nothing."
Gilgamesh turned at Enkidu's call.
He was holding a rock as large as his own body.
"I found the best stone. This should be sufficient for a gravestone."
"I shall do the honor of carving it myself."
"Then I'll make the flower crown."
"...I suppose that is acceptable."
The two held a humble funeral.
Gilgamesh tried to carve Marduk's name into the stone with her own hands, but she failed every time.
No matter how she controlled her strength, the characters were always carved into a strange shape.
It was because of the curse she had laid.
The name 'Marduk' might remain in the world, but the fact that the 'Beast' *was* 'Marduk' was something no one could ever remember.
Therefore, on his gravestone, the name 'Humbaba' was written instead of 'Marduk'.
Seeing the completed gravestone, Enkidu could not hide his disappointment.
"Other people will misunderstand."
"Hmph. There is no need to concern ourselves with the misconceptions of commoners. Only those who are worthy will remember who this commemorates."
"That's just you and me, then."
Enkidu hung the flower crown he had made on the gravestone.
The flowers of the sacred grounds would mourn him for eternity.
The two stood before the gravestone for a long time.
A hot tear trickled down the chin of Enkidu, who stood his ground, pretending to be composed.
The death of Marduk, who was his teacher, friend, and family.
At a parting where he could not even say a final farewell, Enkidu shed tears blankly.
Tears streamed down his face, but his expression was impassive.
He's being faithful to his act of being an emotionless weapon, Gilgamesh thought to herself.
Pretending not to notice, Gilgamesh finally spoke.
"Do you resent me, Enkidu?"
"Why would I?"
It was a pure question, not a sarcastic one.
Enkidu wiped his tears and looked back at Gilgamesh.
She answered seriously.
"Marduk died because of my curse. His tragic fate was of my own making."
"That's true."
"You have the right to be angry about your master's death."
Gilgamesh opened her arms towards Enkidu.
"For just one time, I will give you the chance to strike me. Naturally, I will not retaliate."
"No."
At the firm refusal, Gilgamesh's eyebrows shot up.
It was an offer made after much deliberation, so she had not even considered that it would be refused.
"What is the meaning of this, Enkidu?"
"Because you're my only remaining friend, Gil. I don't want to hit you. And..."
Enkidu stroked the gravestone.
"Marduk wouldn't want it."
"...That's unexpected. I would have thought he would resent me."
"No? Marduk is too kind to do something like that."
Kind.
Gilgamesh mulled over the word in her mouth several times.
He was a man who had a foolish side to him.
She had forcibly kept him in Uruk and made him work. Yet he followed her orders well, without rebellion.
He fought when told to fight, and listened when commanded.
It was the same even when he found out that she had planned all his actions and toyed with him as she pleased.
Covered in wounds, he had simply left Uruk.
He had never once harmed Gilgamesh.
Realizing this unexpected fact, Gilgamesh turned her gaze to the gravestone.
"...…Is that so. He certainly was a foolish man."
"Besides, you liked Marduk, didn't you, Gil? Your heart must ache more than mine, so I am alright."
Just as she was about to sink into sentimentality, Enkidu's sudden remark silenced Gilgamesh.
Barely recovering from the shock, Gilgamesh grabbed Enkidu's shoulders.
"Wh-what are you saying?"
"Just what I said."
An innocent gaze.
At the devilish look of her friend who spoke only the truth, she laughed.
"Ha… hahaha! You tell an amusing joke."
"It's not a joke. Gil, you really did… Mmph…!"
"It seems no further remarks are necessary."
Gilgamesh forcibly dragged Enkidu away.
"Let us return, Enkidu."
She did not shed a single tear.
She did not let the corners of her mouth fall, nor did she furrow her brow.
Parting is a natural thing. She had already steeled her heart many times. She would not crumble now.
If a human was someone who crumbled no matter how many times they resolved themselves, then Gilgamesh was not human.
If a god was someone soft-hearted and fond of people, then Gilgamesh was not a god.
A demigod. A solitary king who could belong nowhere.
That was Gilgamesh, and that was her identity.
The king was not so weak as to shed tears over the death of a monster.
"Don't we need the lumber?"
"...That's right. We came to get lumber."
Not weak... she would not be.
She had to be.
Time flowed like the wind.
Even if Marduk died, Gilgamesh's clock did not stop.
As the absolute king, she swept the wealth of Uruk into her treasury and soon succeeded in accumulating a fortune that was more than double the treasures she had expended in her battle with Enkidu.
Her fame for slaying Humbaba, the guardian of the sacred grounds, spread far and wide, and any doubts about her might vanished.
Uruk prospered.
The name of Gilgamesh, the ruler of Uruk, the demigod, the sublime king who saw through all of creation, spread throughout the world.
She spent peaceful days with Enkidu.
They played pranks on the gods, went on wondrous adventures, and sometimes caused extraordinary mischief in Uruk.
She shone more brilliantly than anyone.
It was by no means strange that Ishtar, having returned from the Underworld, proposed to her again.
Naturally, Gilgamesh drove her away coldly.
And once again, the winds of tragedy blew.
Gilgamesh, who had killed Humbaba, was now an object of fear even to the gods.
She was an enemy they had to kill, but one they were too afraid to confront.
While they were hesitating, the gods heard that Ishtar had been insulted and finally, to punish Gilgamesh, they sent down the Bull of Heaven — Gugalanna.
Gugalanna was weaker than Humbaba with his seven auras, but was still mighty enough to be compared to him.
However, Gilgamesh, who had already completed her growth, was able to defeat the Bull of Heaven with Enkidu's active assistance.
When the thigh of the Bull of Heaven was offered as a tribute.
The authority of the gods plummeted, and the number of temples dedicated to them dwindled.
The gods, trembling with vengeful fury, laid a curse, their specialty.
Not on Gilgamesh, but on Enkidu.
"Gil."
"Enkidu."
And so, Gilgamesh had to part with her one and only kindred spirit.
"Do not be sad. I am merely a weapon. A wandering weapon that could not even complete its mission. I am only being discarded because I have lost my value."
"Did you think a mere weapon could stand by my side, Enkidu? You are no toy of the gods."
His friend's hands and feet were cracking like dry ocher clay.
She had searched high and low for a way to break the curse, but there was no escaping the curse of the gods.
Moreover, a creation of the gods had no power to resist a curse.
"Just as Marduk did. I am only returning to clay."
"He and you are different. He left, but you remained by my side."
"...If I had been the one to die back then, and if it were Marduk dying now, would you have cried for him?"
"What meaning is there in such a hypothetical?"
A drop, then another, began to fall upon Enkidu's face.
Leaning over the bed where Enkidu lay with both arms, Gilgamesh was sobbing uncontrollably.
At her tears, Enkidu felt something welling up from deep within his chest.
They looked at each other and wept endlessly.
"Wake up, Enkidu."
"I'm sorry, Gil."
Enkidu's life was fading.
Even his limbs were crumbling to pieces.
Only a few seconds remained.
"You are a person of value. The sole king of the world… that's what you always said, right? I think so too."
Enkidu sighed.
He resented his own body, which could not even wipe away Gil's tears.
"But a weapon that ignored its mission has no value. So please don't cry, Gil."
"No. Of course you have value. You have a unique value."
Gilgamesh declared.
It was not a curse.
Therefore, there was no need to bow her head low.
"In this world, I have but one friend, and that is you. Therefore, that value is eternal and will never change."
"...I see."
The first farewell had inflicted an indelible wound upon Gilgamesh's heart.
It left her with the grief of a heartbreak she herself did not even recognize.
Then for the second, she would have no regrets.
For this, the second and final farewell, she would mourn without regret.
She vowed to see the deceased off not as a king, but as a person.
For seven days and seven nights, Gilgamesh held Enkidu, who had returned to clay, and wept.