The Eternal Kingdom — the Temple of Light.
Gilgamesh, clad in resplendent golden armor, sat upon his throne. His crimson eyes swept over the twelve Gold Saints kneeling before him, their heads bowed in unwavering obedience. A faint sense of satisfaction stirred within him.
These twelve were the core of his command, responsible for overseeing all lower and middle-ranking members throughout Valhalla.
As long as they caused no trouble, Gilgamesh could maintain absolute control over Asgard even in his absence.
Not that he cared for political squabbles. Even the "Trial of the King" was something he participated in only to avoid disobeying his father's will.
Still, a single question lingered in his mind: What exactly was Odin trying to achieve by holding this trial?
Everyone knew perfectly well that Thor and Loki were nowhere near his level.
If that was the case, why not simply abdicate? Why complicate matters?
Unable to find an answer, he brushed the thought aside. Everything would become clear once he descended to the mortal realm.
"Today, I descend to the mortal realm. After I depart, all affairs of the temple will be handled by Gemini Saga. The rest of you will obey his commands."
"We obey the divine decree!" The twelve, led by Saga, lowered their heads in unison.
Gilgamesh nodded. Each Gold Saint was a top-tier warrior capable of handling matters independently. In particular, Virgo Shaka—who, like him, had awakened the Eighth Sense, Alaya-vijnana—possessed a strength comparable to that of a god.
Logically, the wise Virgo should have taken command. But Shaka preferred quiet and solitude, and Gilgamesh saw no reason to force him; Saga was the next best choice.
In pure strength, Gemini was second only to Shaka, with only Libra Dohko able to stand on equal footing. Moreover, Saga possessed extraordinary administrative talent—problems Gilgamesh couldn't be bothered to handle, Saga could resolve effortlessly.
Over time, he had even earned the title "Incarnation of God"—a testament not only to his power but to his leadership.
After giving all necessary instructions, Gilgamesh led the Saints to the Rainbow Bridge's departure platform. The gods were already gathered, and a grand ceremony was underway. Queen Frigga cupped Gilgamesh's cheek gently, her gaze full of maternal worry.
"When you reach the mortal realm, don't start fights recklessly. Be careful. If you run into Thor or Loki, remember to greet them for me. Midgard isn't like Asgard—you must look after yourself."
Frigga's advice seemed endless, and Gilgamesh listened patiently until Odin finally grew impatient, prompting her to stop.
When the All-Father stepped forward and saw Gilgamesh's indifferent expression, he sighed. Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed everyone else, leaving the two of them alone.
"You've known for a long time that you have an older sister, haven't you?"
Gilgamesh blinked, surprised for a moment, then nodded silently. "When I was twelve, I found the murals in the palace."
Hearing this, Odin sighed again. "Then you understand why we parted ways… yes?"
Gilgamesh tilted his head. He didn't understand at all.
Seeing this, the All-Father spoke bluntly. "You are not ambitious for the throne—I know that. But your past ruthlessness once made me consider sealing you away."
"But you are my son. I have already imprisoned Hela; I do not wish to repeat that mistake."
"In recent years, as my body weakens, I can feel her seal beginning to stir. For that reason, I made you take part in the trial—despite knowing you had no interest—because the matter must be resolved."
"So that's what this is about."
Gilgamesh's brows furrowed as understanding dawned. "You mean…"
He casually traced a throat-slitting gesture across his neck. "Naizutte? You want me to… do that?"
Odin's beard bristled with anger. "She is still my daughter—your sister!"
Gilgamesh blinked. That's strange. You don't want me to kill her… but you expect me to treat her like royalty instead?
Seeing his son's confusion, Odin took a deep breath, forcing down the agitation in his heart.
"Hela's power comes from Asgard itself. Once she returns to this land, her strength will continue to grow, until it becomes utterly unmatched."
"I spent my entire life trying to eliminate that threat—it's why I sealed her away. But your birth gave me new hope." The All-Father looked at Gilgamesh with a rare tenderness. "Your power is no weaker than your sister's. More importantly, the cosmos you've cultivated holds far greater potential than what you've displayed so far."
"If anyone can defeat Hela, without question, it is you."
"When you arrive on Earth, I will withdraw the power that suppresses her and allow her to take part in this 'Trial of the King.' She will have the right to compete for the throne. And you—" Odin's tone hardened, "—you must defeat her completely. Show her the insignificance of her own strength."
Gilgamesh remained silent. Was this truly a case of fighting fire with fire?
"But if I do win the trial," he finally asked, "will you make me the King of the Gods?"
At that, Odin smiled—broad, brilliant, overflowing with relief. "My foolish child… With your power in Asgard, if you wished to be king, who could possibly stop you?"
"I simply believe you are unsuitable, not incapable."
Gilgamesh fell quiet. Indeed, the Twelve Gold Saints answered to him alone. Counting himself, there were two masters of the Eighth Sense under his banner. Even before the All-Father, they could exert overwhelming pressure.
And beyond them were the countless battle-hardened Heroic Spirits in Valhalla. If they desired a coup, they could seize Asgard in an instant.
If Odin had truly wanted to stop him, he wouldn't have created this so-called "Trial of the King." He would have worked to weaken Gilgamesh at every turn.
But Odin hadn't interfered at all.
This alone made it clear—he did not oppose Gilgamesh becoming God-King. He simply felt his proud, aloof son was unfit to rule a nation.
On the other hand, even if Gilgamesh did become king, and even if he could not match Odin's wisdom, Asgard would hardly be placed in danger.
The Frost Giants sent beautiful Frost Witches and elite warriors as tribute every five years. With the God of Light seated upon the throne, who would dare invade the realm of the gods?
The real question was—did Gilgamesh even want the throne?
"No one knows a son better than his father."
Odin understood his son well. Gilgamesh had no interest in meddling in worldly matters. Power, to him, was merely a toy—something he could obtain effortlessly. If he truly wanted the throne, he wouldn't need a trial at all.
The only reason he agreed to descend to the mortal realm was because his father occupied an irreplaceable place in his heart. And he could never bring himself to defy the old man's wishes.