"Here—"
Ophis accepted the fruit from Enkidu's hand. It resembled the "apple" she knew, and she took a small bite.
The two of them were resting in a small grove on their way back. Unlike their hurried trip to the destination, they now walked at an easy pace.
Enkidu still needed time to recover emotionally, and Ophis had stayed behind to keep her company.
It was midday. They hadn't stopped out of fatigue but simply because the weather was pleasant and the scenery beautiful.
They walked when they felt like it and rested when they pleased. Neither time, weather, nor terrain imposed any limits on them.
"Not sweet," Ophis said abruptly after her bite, referring to the fruit she had tentatively labeled an apple.
"Hm... Of the fruits around here, this one's already the sweetest," Enkidu chuckled, sitting down beside her and taking one as well.
Ophis loved sweet things—especially the extremely sweet kind. It was her one small indulgence.
Enkidu found that rather endearing.
"Enkidu, are you alright?"
Finishing the apple almost instantly, Ophis incinerated the core with a simple spell and stared straight at Enkidu.
Faced with that steady gaze, Enkidu didn't know whether to laugh or sigh.
Normally, people wouldn't ask so bluntly, would they?
After spending so much time together, Enkidu had come to understand Ophis a little better.
Despite her usual blank expression, Ophis's mind was remarkably active and analytical—just disinterested in external matters and strikingly straightforward when it came to emotions.
Put simply, when something concerned herself, Ophis showed great insight and awareness. But emotionally, she was so lacking it was almost touching. Add in her reluctance to think deeply about anything outside her interest, and she became the very picture of simplicity.
Such a being would ignore everything unless it truly caught her attention.
Even now, it amazed Enkidu that Ophis had reached out to her at all.
Perhaps this was what humans called fate?
"Don't worry. I'm alright," Enkidu said softly, patting Ophis's head with her usual warm smile.
Ophis gave a small nod, then drew a red "fire poker" from a golden ripple and hugged it close, instantly returning to her usual dazed state.
For Ophis, speaking wasn't a means to start a conversation or achieve a goal. She had felt concern, wanted to ask, and so she asked—nothing more.
Enkidu's mouth twitched as she eyed the fire poker that had appeared out of nowhere.
Seriously? After all that, I lose to a stick?
Still, though curious, she kept the question to herself. Once Ophis entered that meditative state, it was nearly impossible to wake her without direct interference.
But Enkidu didn't mind her "closest friend" spacing out. Her smile only softened as she quietly watched Ophis drift away.
She needed time to think too.
Why… had Humbaba completely lost her reason?
It wasn't a hard question to answer.
Humbaba had once been the guardian beast of the gods' treasures—a divine creature created by the gods themselves. Unlike Enkidu, Humbaba had gradually developed her own wisdom over her long life.
For such a being, only the gods could have stripped away her rationality so completely, leaving behind nothing but wild instinct.
But the real question was… why would they do such a thing?
Although Ophis wasn't actively fulfilling her role as the Wedge, she hadn't rejected the responsibility either… Not that Enkidu believed Ophis even knew such a thing existed.
From the gods' perspective, a few months was far too short to draw any conclusions—let alone to carry out an act that might further distance them from humanity.
…No.
Enkidu suddenly realized she'd fallen into flawed reasoning born of her own assumptions.
Her belief that humans and gods would drift further apart depended entirely on humanity knowing the gods were behind it.
But in truth, even Enkidu—closest to the gods as their creation—had no proof, only speculation.
And even if humanity did know, so what?
They would still recognize the overwhelming power of the divine and recoil in awe.
The people of this era were bold, yes, but that didn't mean they'd remain unmoved by beings capable of deciding life and death on a whim.
Did the gods want humans to plead before them, offering prayers in despair?
Or perhaps, by allowing Humbaba's corruption of nature, they meant to hinder humanity's growth?
It was possible. Even Uruk, protected by Ophis's power, had suffered losses. Other cities without such protection must have fared far worse.
A catastrophe like this would make humanity more dependent on the gods.
And when nature's rampage ceased after Humbaba's fall, people would likely see it as the gods hearing their prayers and ending their punishment.
Though Ophis and Enkidu had defeated Humbaba, only Uruk truly knew. Perhaps a few nearby cities might hear rumors.
Even then, people would likely assume Ophis—the god-chosen King—and Enkidu, the divine weapon, had acted under divine command.
They had conquered nature, only to remain powerless before the gods who ruled it. How ironic—how absurd.
Yet even after considering all this, Enkidu still couldn't make sense of it.
Though these events might yield outcomes favorable to the gods, their actions felt too hasty—too reactive.
Humanity possessed vast potential. Eventually, they would evolve beyond the reach of divine authority. The gods surely understood this: their own stagnation, and humanity's limitless growth. That was why they sent a king of divine nature—one who stood among gods but ruled humankind.
Ophis, the "Wedge" cast down from heaven to earth.
As mentioned, Ophis had never carried out any such duty. Still, from creating Enkidu to balance her, to acting again so soon through Humbaba—the gods' timing was strangely short.
It was hard to imagine beings so unbound by time behaving with such impatience.
Unless, perhaps, they had confirmed that Ophis would never fulfill her role… though even Enkidu couldn't say that for certain.
As for the idea that the gods could read Ophis's mind—Enkidu dismissed it outright. She didn't know the full extent of Ophis's power, but even a god-level mind reader couldn't possibly peer into Ophis's thoughts unnoticed.
No… maybe it was because Ophis was too powerful that she'd slipped beyond the gods' control.
But that, too, seemed unlikely. Even Enkidu had no clear grasp of Ophis's true strength or nature—how could the gods?
As a divine weapon, Enkidu's perception far exceeded that of many "incarnations of nature" among the gods.
Given their pride, would the gods truly feel threatened by something whose power they couldn't even define? Absurd.
…Then again, why had they chosen an unknown being to serve as the Wedge in the first place?
Lost in thought, Enkidu didn't notice the faint silver shimmer that passed through Ophis's right eye. With quiet uncertainty, Ophis murmured a single, questioning phrase—
"…Human… Order?"