Chapter 9: Recognition from the King's Treasure? Oh My God, No!
Ishtar's chest rose and fell sharply.
For a moment, she seriously suspected the mortal in front of her had lost his mind. The insult was so absurd that even her fury stalled, leaving her stunned and unsure how to react.
On the steps above, Siduri covered her forehead.
Calling the goddess of beauty ugly.
To her face.
With that many adjectives.
Even as Gilgamesh's adjutant, she had never witnessed such suicidal behavior.
Even Gilgamesh, reckless as he was, would not go that far.
And the worst part?
Rowe was not entirely wrong.
Ishtar, who ruled over beauty, had never once brought "beauty" to humanity. Every time she descended, what followed was disaster, ruin, and a nightmare that might as well be hell itself.
Beauty?
There was none.
Many people in Uruk knew this in their hearts.
But it was a truth that could never be voiced, much less thrown in her face.
No wonder the King admired Rowe.
They shared the same defect.
Siduri felt her temples start to throb.
But no matter how much her head hurt, it did nothing to change the reality of what Rowe had already done.
In the wide, resplendent hall, the dust from Ishtar's arrival finally began to settle. Gentle light spread across the polished stone floor, restoring clarity to the scene.
For a brief instant, silence reigned.
Rowe continued to face Ishtar directly.
This goddess, so loved by the divine realm, resembled Gilgamesh in one regard: both had been born extraordinary, both had met very little resistance in their lives, and neither had ever been openly rebuked to their face.
That she froze up now was only natural.
But Rowe knew it would not last.
There was no chance she would endure this.
Ishtar's long black hair lifted on an unfelt wind as she returned to herself. Her crimson eyes locked onto Rowe, sharp and cold.
"It seems you truly have no desire to live, mortal."
Her tone had lost all earlier emotion. There was only stillness now.
The stillness of divinity.
The stillness of wrath held just before it breaks.
"What do you think, ugly goddess, Lady Ishtar?" Rowe went in for the kill, voice mocking. "Go on, admit it."
"You are nothing but an ugly fraud."
He laughed.
"Damn you… damn you… ignorant, foolish humans!"
The fragile calm she had forced upon herself shattered.
"I will kill you," Ishtar hissed. "This goddess will absolutely kill you!"
The radiance gathering at her fingertips flared brighter. Venus shone, the bowstring vibrated, and at such close range—barely ten meters—if that arrow struck, nothing would remain of Rowe.
And yet he did not move.
His eyes remained fixed on her, calm and unwavering.
He was ready to die.
He might not be able to die rebuking a king this time, but as someone who openly mocked a goddess, Rowe felt confident his death would be written into legend.
That was enough.
To be written into human history was to qualify for the Throne of Heroes.
What was there to fear in death?
What Rowe did not realize was that Siduri had no intention of letting him die.
Gilgamesh's order aside, Siduri's own resolve had already solidified.
An adjutant existed to serve the King.
Siduri's devotion to Gilgamesh bordered on faith. Whatever he desired, she would act to fulfill. And in her eyes, Rowe's existence might become just as important.
He could become someone who understood the King.
Both despised the gods.
Both took reckless actions without hesitation.
He was overestimating himself, perhaps, but even that was a kind of kinship.
So, in a single instant, Siduri made her decision.
Lines of light formed around her body.
As a close retainer of Gilgamesh, she was not defenseless. The treasures he casually tossed aside, once granted, elevated ordinary mortals far beyond their limits.
Compared to the common people, Siduri was far from weak.
"At the cost of my own life," she thought, eyes clear and determined, "I will save Priest Rowe from Ishtar."
Her body bent slightly, ready to spring forward.
At that very same moment, Ishtar loosed her arrow.
The golden light condensed into a flat streak that fell like a star from the heavens, drenching the hall in red and gold. It roared through the air like a falling meteor, carrying a force no mortal could hope to withstand.
An arrow of pure divine rage.
The angry strike of the goddess.
But just as Siduri was about to move, a voice brushed past her ear.
"Wait, Siduri."
She froze.
That was the King's voice.
Siduri turned her head sharply.
Sometime during the exchange, Gilgamesh had returned and now sat upon the topmost throne. He rested his chin lazily on one hand, watching the scene below with great interest, as if viewing a stage play.
"Watch," he said simply.
Siduri fell silent and turned back.
Below, Rowe was still facing the attack head on.
He closed his eyes and did not move.
The impact came a heartbeat later.
A thunderous crack tore through the hall. Dust surged like a wave. The royal palace itself trembled.
Within the chaos, Ishtar's furious voice rang like a curse.
"Defy the gods, and suffer heaven's punishment!"
The shockwave swept over Rowe. The violent friction of the air alone made his scalp tingle and his body vibrate.
Under such a blow, death would be instantaneous.
No pain.
No lingering regret
.
Perfect.
Rowe's smile brightened.
Then—
He heard it.
A sound like a key falling into a lock, sliding in, then turning with a smooth click.
Metal within metal. A mechanism opening.
What was that?
The strange sound stunned him for half a second.
Then he saw it.
Golden ripples blooming in the air before him, expanding outward like circles in water.
This is…
On the throne above, Gilgamesh's eyes gleamed.
"This King's treasury, constructed from treasures gathered from all corners of the world," he said, his tone rich with pride.
"A manifestation of this King's noble wisdom. The Gate of Babylon, this King's treasure."
"Even without the supreme core to fully complete it, it is still the only treasury in existence, belonging solely to this King. Absolute and unparalleled."
He tapped the armrest with his fingers, crimson gaze never leaving Rowe.
"That wild dog rolling in the filth below is ugly and noisy, his barking grates upon my ears,"
Gilgamesh added, amused. "Yet even so, his will to face the corrupt gods and lash out without fear of death… is worthy of praise."
"Look, Siduri. Even this King's treasury recognizes him."
"The gates of Babylon open for him to use."
Siduri glanced sideways at Gilgamesh's satisfied expression.
You were the one who opened it for him…
But she swallowed the thought and turned back to Rowe.
Even from a distance, she could tell he had heard every word from the throne.
The King's Treasure…?
Rowe stared at the golden ripples before him.
They were exactly the same as the way Gilgamesh's armory unfolded in his memories of the Nasuverse.
Wait.
If that's the case… doesn't that mean I won't die?
His eye twitched.
No.
No, no, no.
Don't—
The scene before him should have been a blissful instant of release.
Instead, it twisted into a horror show.
The light of Venus rained down.
Dozens of Noble Phantasms projected out of the rippling gold, intercepting it. They erupted mid-air with a thunderous roar, fusing into an invisible barrier of steel, light, and authority.
The smoke and dust exploded outward once more.
But when the dust finally thinned—
There was nothing.
No scorched corpse.
No shattered body.
Rowe stood there perfectly intact, not even a scratch on him.
Expressionless.
How…
How did I still not die?!