Chapter 33: The Embryo of an Alliance
For Ziusudra, the hermit who dwelled in the Underworld, meeting the man without destiny was not a casual whim.
He had survived the great flood of the last age ending calamity. He had watched the world drown, watched civilization break apart, and crawled out the other side with a body that could no longer die. That kind of immortality did not bring peace. It brought memory. It brought responsibility.
So when he heard that another disaster, one that carried the same stench as the ancient deluge, was about to sweep across the land again, he moved.
Not because Rowe had torn open a rift to the Underworld and allowed him to emerge, although that alone was enough to make any old legend curious.
But because Ziusudra knew this coming catastrophe would not be endured by strength alone. It would demand someone who stood outside the weave of destiny. Someone who could change the shape of the story itself.
Rowe would be central to it.
Those who had lived through destruction did not wish to see the earth barren again, nor to watch civilization claw itself back from mud and bones after the waters receded.
So Ziusudra had a reason to find him.
…
Time passed.
For Rowe, the days that followed turned strangely peaceful.
The plan to delay the gods punishment had already been set in motion in that room. Gilgamesh, once he stopped being a dramatic teenager for five seconds, was terrifyingly competent. He ordered the temple priests to pray to Heaven and declare that he was considering the demands of the gods.
Gilgamesh was still the wedge of heaven the gods themselves had cultivated. Unless they were forced to, they did not want to lose a pawn that useful. And beyond that, they were arrogant. They truly believed no trick Rowe and his companions could pull would matter in the end.
So they slowed their pace, waiting for Gilgamesh reply.
No surprises erupted. The world held its breath. The border storms remained somewhere beyond the horizon.
Rowe enjoyed a rare stretch of calm.
His ultimate goal had nothing to do with peaceful living, but even someone trying to die heroically needed sleep now and then. Besides, free time was valuable. He used it to dig deeper into the Key of Heaven, so he would not be blindsided again.
And he did make progress.
He learned to influence the blessings placed on him. He could not fully switch them on and off, but he could weaken them.
Immortality became conditional immortality, which was much more convenient for someone who treated death like a hobby.
During that lull, Rowe also returned to the Pantheon to visit the old priests. With Uruk and the gods teetering on the brink of a formal split, their position was miserable. He could see it in their posture, their wary silences, their eyes that kept drifting toward the sky.
They had agreed to follow Gilgamesh and report to the gods that the king was buying time. But whether to abandon faith carved into their bones and truly break with the heavens was another question entirely.
A question without an easy answer.
Rowe did not urge them. He respected their choices.
Whether they became friends or foes later, they had taken good care of him when he was young. That mattered.
It was only a small interlude in a peaceful stretch.
The rest went smoothly.
The only recurring nuisance was a certain goddess who insisted on showing up every morning like she had a shift to clock in.
…
In the courtyard near the royal palace, the newly risen sun warmed the stones and painted the greenery gold. Rowe lifted an earthenware bowl, took a sip of mead, and looked up.
Across from him sat Ishtar Rin, staring at his drink like it had personally offended her by existing without her permission.
Her fair arms glowed in the sunlight. Her graceful figure was mostly hidden beneath a crimson jacket, far more modest than the usual Mistress of Heaven style. Above it, her long black hair was tied into twin tails that framed a delicate face and those predatory crimson eyes.
Every day for the past several days had looked like this.
She appeared early, planted herself at his place, and stared at him as if she were supervising a criminal.
Unfortunately for Rowe, it was always Ishtar.
Ereshkigal had not shown herself even once.
"Cough. Rowe, what do you want to eat today?"
Enkidu approached with light steps, emerald hair flowing behind her. Her calm face carried a faint, almost playful curiosity.
"It is said that the closer one is to a divine being, the more delicious their taste. How about…"
Her gaze slid to Ishtar.
Ishtar flinched so hard she nearly fell off her seat, snapping her eyes away from Rowe like a child caught stealing sweets.
Enkidu smiled but said nothing.
This too had become routine.
Ishtar, as a vessel of heaven, was utterly intimidated by Enkidu. The Chains of Heaven were meant to bind the power of Heaven itself. To a goddess, that was the equivalent of finding out the leash on your neck is real.
Ishtar had no way to fight it, and even less desire to offend Enkidu.
Though with the strange qualities her host body gave her, avoiding offense was a talent she lacked.
After all…
"So delicious."
Ishtar shoveled down the food Enkidu placed before her. After finishing, she sighed blissfully.
"How wonderful. Even the clay figure made by the gods has cooking skills this good."
The past few days, Rowe's cooking had been so plain it could have doubled as ration training for soldiers. Enkidu had taken over the kitchen without complaint. For a divine construct, practical skills came as naturally as breathing.
Then Ishtar leaned back and sighed again.
"With a clay figure like this taking care of you, you still covet the Goddess of the Underworld. You are greedier than most kings."
She paused, then added too casually for her own good.
"By the way, is this clay figure male or female? Clay figures should not have gender, right? Then how do you… uh…"
Her voice trailed off.
A shadow fell behind her.
Enkidu was standing there with a sweet, gentle smile and the Chains of Heaven already in motion.
Ishtar froze.
A moment later, the roof beams groaned as a frantic, muffled wail burst from inside the house.
"Wuwuwu. Let me down."
Rowe glanced at the goddess now hanging from the Chains of Heaven and rubbed his forehead.
When it came to seeking death, this one was a prodigy.
He could not hope to compete.
Rowe was still pondering that tragic truth when Enkidu's clear voice rose beside him.
"Rowe, what are you thinking about?"
She leaned close, her emerald eyes bright, her moist lips catching the light.
"Do you want me to let that fellow down?"
Rowe glanced toward the struggling Ishtar. Ishtar locked onto him immediately, eyes pleading.
Let me down.
Rowe was about to answer.
Bang.
Enkidu closed the door with a cheerful click, sealing Ishtar inside along with all her protests.
She had not waited for his reply.
Ishtar went silent.
Rowe did too.
Then another voice drifted in from outside, rich with arrogant amusement.
"Hmph hahaha. What a lively sound."
Gilgamesh strode through the entrance as if he owned the sky itself.
"Is this a welcome ceremony prepared in advance, knowing this King would arrive?"
Under Enkidu's serene gaze, Rowe calmly took another sip of mead. He looked at Gilgamesh, then at Siduri walking in behind him.
"It is one thing for you, Gilgamesh, to come. But even Miss Siduri is here. She is busy every day. So there is something to discuss, right?"
"They are insignificant rabble daring to challenge this King's authority," Gilgamesh said, dropping into a seat opposite Rowe with arms crossed.
Then his crimson eyes sharpened, and his grin turned feral.
"This King will soon let them understand that in all of heaven and earth, only one person is qualified to bark at this King who rules all creation."
"That makes my skin crawl," Rowe muttered, rolling his eyes.
But he already knew exactly what the Hero King meant.
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