Chapter 35: The Chosen One
Ziusudra.
Rowe was genuinely thrown by the name.
In Mesopotamian myth, Ziusudra was one of the few survivors of the world ending Great Flood, an immortal who dwelled in the Underworld. In the Epic of Gilgamesh as later generations recorded it, it was this very man who told the aged Gilgamesh about the herb of immortality, setting him on the road to seek eternal life.
But for Ziusudra himself, this meeting was not chance at all.
He had been waiting here, watching for Rowe to step outside.
Just like Gilgamesh, this hermit of the Underworld had survived the prehistoric Flood that shattered civilization and, in surviving it, gained immortality. And like Gilgamesh, he possessed a special eye.
He could see the line of a person's existence and destiny.
That line marked where one came from and where one would end. The origin was fixed, unavoidable. The end point was mutable, a threat that could be overcome. In simpler terms, destiny's end point was the calamity that might take your life. If you survived it, the line extended. If you failed, it snapped.
"But you do not have this line."
The old man's hoarse voice drifted through windblown dust and reached Rowe's ears.
"On your body, there is no line of destiny."
"I have never seen anyone like you. Yet I once heard the gods in heaven say that during the Great Flood I endured, there existed a person without destiny."
"I never met him, but he was the one who built the giant ship that preserved the spark of human civilization. The savior in that disaster. His name was Utnapishtim, and the flood that ended the world was named for him."
"And now, I have already seen that the destiny of world destruction has fallen upon everyone again, except for you."
"Therefore, I believe you are a crucial person. One who will help this land overcome an unprecedented disaster."
The old man stood in a corner of the street, tattered robes clinging to a withered frame, eyes fixed on Rowe.
Rowe stayed silent for a moment.
He knew why he had no line. A transmigrator did not belong to this world's weave. But he could not say that out loud.
So he only asked the practical question.
"What kind of disaster?"
"I do not know."
Ziusudra shook his head.
"Perhaps it is the punishment already sent down by the gods. The strongest demonic beast and the strongest divine beast. Or perhaps something even greater."
He paused, then added quietly.
"Of course, that probability is not high."
The simultaneous descent of Humbaba and the Bull of Heaven was already the ultimate interference the gods could manage in this era. It could not compare to the old Utnapishtim Flood, but it was more than enough to erase the surface of the Mesopotamian Plain and fracture civilization again.
Something greater would require the gods to shatter the era's limits and return in their true bodies.
Or worse, for primordial deities to resurface.
That was, indeed, almost impossible.
Rowe raised an eyebrow.
"So you want to protect me."
"Yes."
Ziusudra's answer came without a breath of hesitation.
"This old man has lingered from ancient times until now. I know what desolation looks like after the world is cleansed."
"And I do not want to experience it again."
Rowe rubbed his chin.
To others, Ziusudra was just a mythical immortal, a name tucked into old epic lines. To Rowe, he represented something else as well.
Ziusudra was also a possibility.
The oldest assassin.
In the Type Moon records, the King of Hassan, the one who held the apex among the seven Assassin classes in the Throne of Heroes, had once appeared in Gilgamesh's era under the name Ziusudra.
That had been a distorted era, a singularity.
But to appear there under that name, there had to be a link.
Now, hearing Ziusudra describe his abilities, Rowe could not help connecting the dots. The resemblance was too exact.
That was why, after meeting him, Rowe had brought him back to his residence.
"But I do not need your protection."
After a brief pause, Rowe refused the idea outright.
"I have already become the Key of Heaven. You should know that."
"The great power created by the gods, this old man certainly knows."
Ziusudra nodded, acknowledging it, yet his tone did not bend.
"But no one is completely without weakness, not even you. The King of Uruk, and that Divine Construct, they also have weaknesses."
"This old man can guard your weaknesses."
"But when destiny reaches its end, no one can escape the bell of the Underworld that tolls for life."
Damn it.
It really was King Hassan.
Even if Ziusudra was not the man himself, the connection had to be intimate. Their existence carried the same shape.
How could Rowe, who sought death, allow someone like this to guard him?
Still, Ziusudra did not look like the kind of man who would accept persuasion. So Rowe shifted tactics.
"I do not need your protection."
He straightened, voice turning solemn.
"But since you are so persistent, then I will entrust you with a task."
"Next, I will go as an envoy to a city state north of Uruk. You go there first and clear any possible obstacles for me."
He was going to another country anyway. The task was mainly to send Ziusudra away.
"Remember, your actions must be discreet," Rowe added at the end.
The old man lowered his head. Beneath the shadow of his hood, his voice came out low and rough.
"Do not worry. This old man has lived long enough to know what to do."
Over the years, the hermit who sometimes stepped out of the Underworld had seen storms and started more than one slaughter. Rowe did not need to explain further. Ziusudra would know how to protect his target.
Rowe smiled when he saw the old man accept.
He did not believe Ziusudra failed to notice the attempt to send him off. But since the other party played along, there was no point pressing it.
As long as they were in different countries, whatever Ziusudra did should not interfere with Rowe.
"Pleasure working with you, Elder Ziusudra."
Ziusudra gave a faint reply. Deep in his dark eyes, a cold blue glimmer flickered.
"I will depart."
He bowed slightly, then turned.
"Then I will await your good news."
Rowe watched him go.
Ziusudra left the shadows and walked through the streets where sunlight and shade braided together. People flowed past him in noisy currents.
His pace was slow.
His movement was not.
He crossed the city's streets.
He passed through the walls and gates.
He stepped into the northern wilderness.
There, the old man's figure seemed to stretch taller. Dark armor wrapped itself around him like night closing in, and a greatsword of eerie blue iron appeared in his palm.
He was conspicuous.
He made no attempt to hide.
This was Ziusudra's method of protection.
Those who seek to live, die. Those who seek to die, live. The end of death lies in a momentary convergence, the fate of life in an instant's choice.
Fear his benevolence less than his weapon.
Fear his weapon less than his might.
<><><><><>
[Check Out My Patreon For +40 Advance Chapters On All My Fanfics!]
[[email protected]/FanficLord03]
[Every 100 Power Stones = +1 Bonus Chapter]
[Join Our Discord Community For Updates & Events]
[https://discord.gg/MntqcdpRZ9]