Chapter 19: Nine Deaths, No Regrets
Rowe had replayed this scene in his head more times than he cared to admit.
That sounded cruel, even to himself. But after meeting Enkidu, he had started looking forward to this moment.
He was a transmigrator. He knew this meeting was inevitable.
The Heavenly Wedge and the Chains of Heaven were fated to collide.
And he had prepared long ago to throw himself between them.
Rowe gripped the iron chains extending from the Gate of Babylon and swung through the forest like a flash of lightning. He moved faster than before, more precise, more desperate. Trees blurred past him in streaks of green and gold.
Ahead, the battle was already underway.
The closer he got, the heavier the air became. Magical energy rolled through the forest in overlapping waves. The ground shuddered under his feet. Dust spiraled upward. From a distance, the world looked drowned in a violent tapestry of gold and emerald.
Rowe inhaled. Exhaled.
Then Gilgamesh's laughter surged through the storm.
"Hmph, hahaha. Mongrel though you are, it is rare to find someone with power enough to contend with this great King."
His voice was bright with battle joy and brutal certainty.
"Yet you have committed a sin even my magnanimity cannot forgive, you artificial weapon."
"Here, meet your end."
The King of Uruk stood on the Vimana in full golden armor, looking down with scarlet eyes at the green haired figure below. Behind him, countless golden ripples spread across the sky.
The Gate of Babylon was open wide.
Hundreds of portals glimmered at once. Blades, spears, axes, and swords poured out like an inverted steel forest, suspended in the air and aimed toward the earth.
Below, the forest answered.
Enkidu's pale hand pressed lightly against the ground. Dust and sand rose as if the earth itself had taken a breath. The clay weapon born from Aruru's hands carried the same generative authority as her creator. The soil twisted into divine weapons at her command, sharp and endless, no less fearsome than the treasures falling from the Gate of Babylon.
They were trading long range barrages.
In fighting style, the two were almost mirrors. In strength, they were evenly matched.
That was why Gilgamesh praised her even as he tried to kill her. His eyes held a real, reluctant admiration.
He was angry, yes. He believed Rowe had been murdered.
But after clashing with this green haired messenger of the gods, he understood what she truly was. A weapon forged by the gods.
Weapons did not choose to kill.
The ones who wielded them did.
So the King's hatred had been aimed at the gods from the very start.
Still, that did not mean he would spare this clay doll.
Only by shattering her here could he send a message to the heavens. Only by breaking their tool could he prove that the dignity of Uruk's King could not be violated.
Yes, at this very moment, the gods were watching.
The clash between the Heavenly Wedge and the Chains of Heaven was too important for them to ignore. They had forged Enkidu to correct Gilgamesh, so they needed to see whether their Chains could actually bind their Wedge.
Rowe paused on a high thicket and looked up.
Above the firmament, the light changed.
Pairs of divine eyes opened in the sky, vast and cold. With the perception he had gained from touching the Root, Rowe could clearly pick out their silhouettes.
A theater.
A stage built from fate and arrogance.
Rowe felt a thin, dangerous thrill.
What if the stage was interrupted?
"You are powerful as well," Enkidu's voice rang out from below, steady and determined. "But until I meet my friend, I will not fall here."
Her emerald eyes shone beneath the curtain of green hair.
She leaned again into the earth.
The forest floor roared in answer. More weapons erupted upward, born from dust, stone, clay, and will. As long as she stood on the land, the tide would not end.
Neither of them was at their peak yet, not by Rowe's memory.
The Gate of Babylon was still only half completed. Gilgamesh had not yet acquired the divine artifact that would open heaven itself.
Enkidu had not yet fully revealed what it meant to be the Chains of Heaven.
But even so, the power they unleashed now was already godlike.
This was a decisive exchange.
The steel forest in the sky descended.
The lush forest below surged upward.
From far away, the two edges of destruction closed in on each other like the jaws of a primeval beast, about to swallow the world between them.
Gilgamesh stood tall on the Vimana, arms crossed, golden light raging around him.
Enkidu's robe billowed. Her beautiful face was calm, lips pressed into a line.
Who would win?
Who would lose?
Even they did not know.
Even the gods watching from above could not say which side would prove superior.
And that was when Rowe finally moved.
He tightened his grip on the chain from the Gate of Babylon and flung himself toward the heart of the collision, straight into the interlocking storm.
"You two, stop!"
He shouted with sudden, frantic emotion. Panic filled his voice. His face was pale and tense, every inch of him screaming sacrifice.
"Rowe?" Enkidu looked up. The moment she saw him rush into the center, her eyes widened and her body froze.
"This mongrel is not dead?" Gilgamesh snapped, equally stunned.
For a breath, he felt relief.
Then his expression hardened into something far more dangerous.
Rowe being alive was good news a heartbeat ago.
Now it was a disaster.
Once power was unleashed, it was nearly impossible to pull back cleanly. A fist could be withdrawn. An arrow could not be unshot.
And the power of the Heavenly Wedge and the Chains of Heaven was not an arrow. It was a calamity.
"Mongrel, move!" Gilgamesh roared, scarlet pupils contracting.
"Rowe, get out of the way!" Enkidu cried out as well. Her voice cracked with urgency.
They tried to restrain their attacks.
They tried to stop the closing jaws.
But it was futile.
The collision continued. The air screamed as magical currents tore through the world.
Above, the gods whispered without shame, their voices drifting down like cold wind.
"So that is the Key of Heaven we recognized."
"Why is he so reckless?"
"A rare piece on the board."
"What a pity. He is still too weak to endure this impact."
"Perhaps he can be discarded here."
"Or used. His death may awaken the Heavenly Wedge."
Their words slid into Rowe's ears clearly.
They probably did not know he could hear them. They did not bother hiding their malice.
Rowe did not care right now.
He would settle accounts later. Fate loved giving him chances.
At this moment, he hung in the air between heaven and earth, facing crushing pressure from above and below. His face was stern, noble, and resolute, like a hero willing to die to stop friends from killing each other.
Rowe spread his arms wide, as if embracing the sky and the land together.
Under a glow no one noticed, his lips curled into a bright, hungry smile.
It was coming.
Closer.
Death was almost within reach.
Rowe was certain someone in later ages would record it.
They would write of a man who faced a force that could swallow mountains and seas, and still stepped forward without hesitation.
Even if he died nine times, he would have no regrets.
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