Chapter 15: The First to Arrive and Mock
Among the gods, goddesses had always been terrifying existences.
Even though all gods were embodiments of nature, divine spirits formed through faith still differed in temperament depending on the form they took. Male shaped gods tended to be rational and steady, but easily stubborn. Female shaped gods were more emotional and gentle, yet far more likely to swing to extremes.
Especially when things were not going well.
Aruru was almost certainly in that state right now.
So Rowe would find her.
Mock her. Provoke her.
Then, in the clash that followed, keep escalating until she killed him.
A death in battle against a goddess.
That was the cleanest ticket to legend.
Rowe turned toward the soldiers behind the wall and shouted, "I'm going deeper."
"By the King's command, none of you are to move unless new orders arrive."
"Yes!"
After what they had just witnessed, no one could refuse him now. Even the captain looked at Rowe the way men looked at miracles. In his heart, Rowe's status had risen to second only to Gilgamesh.
With that settled, Rowe chased after the retreating Demonic Beasts as they vanished into the forest like an ebbing tide.
A moment later, he was perched on a thick tree trunk, eyes scanning the sea of green ahead.
"It's deeper than I thought."
Before him was nothing but dense wilderness. Vines intertwined overhead, canopies piled so thick they swallowed the light, turning the forest into a living ceiling that pressed down on the world. The herds of Demonic Beasts still stirred dust as they moved, but against the sheer enormity of the forest, their commotion felt small.
This place was vast.
But of course it was. A forest capable of housing endless Demonic Beasts could not be anything else.
Still, even something vast had limits. Rowe had been moving for a long time. He should be close to the heart of it by now.
Sure enough, the disturbance began to weaken. The beasts' frantic pace slowed. Their roar dulled into uneasy silence.
Rowe opened the Gate of Babylon and grabbed an iron chain that extended from a golden ripple. With a swing, he launched himself from the tree and sailed toward the center of the formation.
As he passed overhead, he got a clear look at them.
They resembled wild animals, yet each carried something unnatural. Bone spurs, warped limbs, wings, scales, bodies far larger than any ordinary creature.
And now they were kneeling.
Every single one lay prostrate on the ground as if worshipping something unseen. Even as Rowe flew over them, not one flinched.
Rowe narrowed his eyes and looked ahead.
In the middle of the beasts' circle, trees gave way to an open clearing. No shade covered it. Sunlight poured down mercilessly, scorching the ground into blackened marks.
Rowe recognized it immediately.
This had to be the landing point. The place where Enkidu fell.
Because standing there was a figure impossible to miss.
A beautiful woman with long black hair, wrapped in a white dress. Her skin was pale and full, her posture poised, her face flooded with divine radiance.
Aruru.
Undoubtedly Aruru, in an embodied state.
And beside her was a coiled lump of mud.
The unfinished divine clay that would soon become Enkidu.
He was not born yet and did not have that name, but Rowe did not care. It was simpler to call him that now.
Rowe steadied himself on another tree, feet planted on the branch, and watched Aruru's troubled expression from afar.
His guess had been right.
She was struggling to shape Enkidu into a perfect form.
He was meant to be a humanoid weapon forged by the gods to oppose Gilgamesh. His appearance could not be inferior to that arrogant young King of Uruk.
The problem was that Gilgamesh, as a half god half human anomaly, carried beauty rare even among divine beings.
Aruru could not find a template equal to him.
To some extent, the earlier riots had been her doing. She wanted the Demonic Beasts to stir, to move, to circle the border soldiers, hoping their bodies and instincts might spark inspiration for a suitable form.
How many humans might die because of it?
The gods did not care.
To them, the human world was a tool that maintained their existence. Even Gilgamesh was such a tool. Even Enkidu would be one.
Troubled or not, Aruru was still a goddess.
The moment Rowe watched too long, she sensed him.
Her deep black eyes lifted through her curtain of hair and met his gaze. Her head tilted slightly, lips parting in quiet question.
Who are you?
As the one commanding this place, her gaze drew the attention of the countless Demonic Beasts around her. Thousands of crimson eyes followed her line of sight and locked onto Rowe.
A wolf shaped beast bared its teeth. A lion shaped one ground its fangs, cold light flashing. A demonic bird perched higher in the branches spread steel like wings.
Yet none of those gazes compared to Aruru's emerald eyes.
Rowe understood her question.
Who am I?
He smiled.
Slowly, he pulled his robe back, revealed his slender arm, and extended his hand in greeting.
Then he raised his middle finger.
Contempt.
Mockery.
For a goddess who treated humans like disposable tools.
The world froze.
The wolf's jaws hung open, saliva dripping and corroding the soil beneath. The lion bit its own tongue, blood splashing the leaves. The bird's wings remained half spread, locked in air as if time had snapped.
Even though they were not human, even though they did not understand the gesture itself, Demonic Beasts were still Demonic Beasts. They sensed intent through instinct.
And what they sensed from that human above them was not killing malice.
It was mockery.
A cold, infuriating mockery that felt worse than hatred.
So they went still.
Aruru, needless to say, felt it even more sharply.
If the beasts could speak, they would have cursed Rowe on the spot and torn him apart.
Why would you provoke her?
Let her finish her work and return to heaven, you lunatic.
This human really was a dog.
But that paralyzed shock lasted only an instant.
The beasts dropped their heads again, silent and trembling.
Because Aruru spoke.
"Are you mocking me, mortal?"
What should have been a tranquil voice carried a stern edge now, like a quiet stream suddenly swelling into a flood.
The troubled goddess had been struck right where she hurt.
She was furious.
And to the gods, anger meant one thing.
Venting.
She wanted to kill Rowe.
But before Aruru could move, the mud beside her moved first.
Enkidu, still unfinished, surged forward.
He rushed toward Rowe as if compelled, and planted himself between Rowe and the goddess.
Like he had sensed some strange kinship.
Rowe blinked.
"...Huh?"
Who are you? Are we close?
Don't come over here.