The vast sky, the wide earth, and the grand city standing firm in the distance—
That was the first sight it beheld upon its birth.
For any being seeing such a world for the first time, the scene should have been breathtaking—something to cherish.
Yet, at that moment, it lacked the reason to feel awe.
It had no soul.
Driven purely by instinct, it roamed the plains and forests like a wild beast.
From the direction of that distant city, it could sense something—someone—calling to it.
That existence needed it.
But it had no way to answer.
Then, a woman appeared before it.
Perhaps she was sent by the gods who had shaped it—or perhaps she merely wandered there by chance.
It had no way to know.
Either way, it didn't matter.
For the first time, it encountered an intelligent lifeform—and began to imitate her.
Bit by bit, it learned. Knowledge took root. Understanding dawned. It began to grasp the laws of heaven and earth.
Within its body, a soul was born.
And then, it learned the woman's identity—an envoy of the gods, sent to make it complete.
It modeled its form after that divine priestess.
It learned shame, and clothed itself.
"Enkidu…"
For the first time since its birth, it—no, now she—whispered aloud the name she had been given.
Enkidu turned her gaze toward the city standing proud in the distance.
She understood her mission—her duty.
To deliver divine punishment upon the king who had abandoned the responsibility of the "Wedge."
That was her reason for being, her purpose as a weapon—a "Chain."
...Or so it should have been.
Yet Enkidu could not ignore the constant call echoing from within the city.
It wasn't a deliberate summons, but something deeper—a pull from soul to soul.
She could sense that presence clearly—
The King of Uruk, Ophis.
And for the first time, Enkidu felt something new: curiosity.
What was this bond? What kind of being was Ophis, who defied the will of the gods?
Driven by that curiosity, Enkidu raced toward Uruk like a falling star.
Forged by the gods and blessed with unparalleled skill, she infiltrated the palace with ease, unnoticed, until she stood silently behind the throne where the king sat, back turned.
The king, unlike others, had already sensed her presence. Yet she showed no surprise—only turned her head with an indifferent expression.
When Enkidu saw the king's face, she was not captivated by beauty equal to her own, but by those silver-gray eyes—
Clear, yet hollow.
This person… might be even emptier than I was when I was born.
The thought crossed Enkidu's mind.
A being with no guidance, endlessly reaching toward something unattainable, lost in her own solitude…
A lonely existence.
Why was she so alone?
Enkidu could guess the reason.
Whatever Ophis was, she was neither god nor human.
She bore the divinity of the heavens, yet lacked the fullness of a god. And she carried nothing of humanity.
In a world ruled by gods and humans alike, she was neither.
And in those eyes—there lay a goal even she herself denied.
A being already beyond all others, still reaching for something infinitely further away.
Beside her, there was no one.
No one alive could ever truly understand her.
If that were the case…
Enkidu slightly lowered her body.
It was the instinctive stance of a beast before the hunt.
"You… intend to kill me?"
Watching her, Ophis tilted her head, puzzled. Her voice was calm—tinged with quiet loneliness.
Of course, she already knew the answer.
Seeing Enkidu remain poised to strike, Ophis gave a small shake of her head.
"I don't understand. But… you cannot kill me."
Perhaps this one truly lies beyond my reach, Enkidu thought.
And yet—
Just as this lonely girl kept chasing a goal she knew she would never reach, Enkidu too felt compelled to reach out, to grasp the unreachable.
With that feeling, she launched herself toward Ophis.
Ordinarily, Ophis would have ignored such an attack, knowing her opponent's blows could do her no harm. That was her nature.
But for reasons even she couldn't name, she found herself unable to remain indifferent to this existence.
Still, within the confines of the great hall, she couldn't carelessly unleash her usual destructive energy.
So, using her own body—a rarity—Ophis awkwardly tried to recall half-forgotten martial arts, clumsily raising her hands to block Enkidu's fierce assault.
Despite her holy, graceful form, Enkidu fought like a beast—wild, instinctive. Yet it was a divine art, taught by the gods themselves, and far beyond what Ophis—who relied only on raw power—could easily counter.
Pressed back again and again, Ophis's frustration grew. She summoned two swords from her treasury, hoping to turn the tide with steel.
But skill could not be replaced by strength alone. Wild swings could not bridge the gulf between them.
Enkidu dominated the battle—but even so, she could not harm Ophis in any lasting way.
Wounds appeared, yet no blood flowed; each one closed within seconds.
As they fought, fragments of memory stirred within Ophis. Her movements grew steadier, sharper, refined by her draconic power.
But Enkidu refused to yield.
Her body returned to clay, reshaping into countless blades, spears, shields, and savage beasts that lunged all at once.
Ophis countered by projecting treasures from her vast hoard, hurling each to meet the storm.
Their clash raged on for days.
At last, Enkidu reached her limit. Nearly all her clay was spent, even the garments symbolizing her wisdom and shame reduced to dust. She collapsed weakly to the ground.
This must look pitiful…
A faint, bitter smile touched her lips.
Ophis, still holding her final sword, mended her own tattered clothes with a pulse of energy, then stepped to Enkidu's side and looked down at her.
For Ophis, who possessed infinite energy, the struggle itself meant nothing. Something else had begun to matter.
"Why?" she asked simply.
She wasn't asking why Enkidu had attacked. That was beneath her concern.
Perhaps she meant—why fight so desperately?
Enkidu pondered, then smiled softly.
"Ah… I'm not really sure myself," she said, voice gentle despite her exhaustion. "But seeing you like this… somehow makes me sad. I keep thinking—it would be nice if I could stay by your side, always like this."
Ophis's gray eyes wavered faintly, yet she did not raise her sword again.
Instead, she turned away, walked a few steps, and sat down quietly.
Though their roles and fates had shifted, the "King" and the "Chain" were now bound together all the same.
And from this meeting onward, Ophis's path would never again be the same.