Slaying the Bull of Heaven wasn't particularly difficult.
They possessed weapons capable of piercing its defenses, and the creature's technique and intelligence were laughably poor. Under such conditions, raw power alone couldn't bridge the gap—once they seized the right moment, victory came easily.
Not to mention, the Chains of Heaven were practically made for restraining the Bull.
For Ophis and Enkidu, the Bull itself had never been the real problem. The true concern was what would follow after its death.
After the battle, the two returned to the top of the familiar hill.
"Hah… To think you two actually went and killed the bull."
Hands clasped behind her back, Ishtar greeted them with a radiant smile.
But the goddess's charms were wasted here. Ophis didn't even glance at her, and Enkidu—uncharacteristically—looked openly displeased.
"Why?"
Ophis's quiet question cut through the tense air. She had tugged lightly at Enkidu's sleeve, reminding her to stay calm before turning her gaze to Ishtar.
"You're asking why?"
Ishtar touched a finger to her lips, blinking playfully.
"Because it's fun?"
"Because it's fun?" Enkidu snapped. "You—one of the gods—deliberately caused a calamity that could harm the gods themselves?"
"Ha!"
Ishtar let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
"Don't joke with me. The age of gods is ending. The era of humanity is already dawning. You know it, I know it, even that emotionless Wedge over there knows it—and so do those decrepit old fools sitting in heaven. All they're doing now is struggling to delay the inevitable. If that's the case, why not enjoy myself while there's still time?"
"And for your own amusement, you brought such ruin to Uruk?"
Enkidu's tone turned icy, her brows furrowed in anger.
Ophis cast her a sidelong glance. Ever since Ishtar had appeared, Enkidu had been unusually emotional.
Still, Ophis doubted Ishtar's actions were purely for her own pleasure.
…At least, not entirely.
"Well, isn't this what it means to be a god?" Ishtar said lightly, tossing her hair. "Capriciousness is our defining trait."
She said it with pride—as though declaring the essence of divinity itself.
Some gods, like her, existed only to indulge in whim and desire. Even if their choices hastened their downfall, they would never change.
"You—ugh…"
Enkidu's words faltered as she suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed to the ground.
"It seems the gods' curse mechanism has activated."
Ishtar's smile curved into something wicked. She stepped forward, slipped behind Ophis, and rested her chin on the girl's shoulder, fingers brushing softly against her cheek.
"This isn't some punishment for rebellion—it was decided from the start. The moment she defied her purpose, it triggered. How about it? Because of my little game, the one you've been guarding is about to die. Do you hate me yet?"
Her voice dripped with amusement, teasing and cruel.
But Ophis's expression didn't waver in the slightest. Her face remained utterly calm, unreadable as ever.
"Tch… How boring."
Clicking her tongue, Ishtar withdrew.
There was no point provoking someone who wouldn't react—and besides, if she lingered too long, Enkidu might unleash an Enuma Elish in her death throes, and that would be… inconvenient.
Yet before she could take another step, Ophis turned to her.
Her eyes met Ishtar's directly.
"Ishtar… loves humanity very much?"
The question was soft, but certain.
Because that—Ophis had realized—was the only conclusion that made sense.
In truth, that was also why Enkidu had reacted so sharply upon seeing Ishtar. Otherwise, it would've been obvious that if the Bull of Heaven had ever released its full power, reshaping the land around Uruk—or even erasing all of Mesopotamia—would have been effortless.
Ishtar… probably did love humanity.
In the gods' waning days, she had forced Ophis to make a choice—one that would define humanity's future path.
But Ishtar's love was directed toward humanity as a whole, not toward any individual human being. The deaths of a few were of no consequence to her.
In that sense, she wasn't so different from Enkidu.
"Huh?"
Ishtar blinked, momentarily lost. Ophis's sudden, blunt conclusion had caught her off guard; as usual, the girl had skipped straight to the end of her thought process without bothering to explain the reasoning in between.
"Wha—what are you saying?! You're not making any sense!"
Ishtar leapt back several meters, frantically waving her hands with an exaggerated grimace.
"I just wanted to see how long these foolish humans could last without divine protection—don't misunderstand!"
Her usual tsundere tantrum concluded, Ishtar exhaled and turned her gaze toward Uruk, her voice softening.
"But… it's true. Humans who blindly obey the gods are dull creatures. Isn't it far more intriguing to watch them struggle forward on their own? When the Age of Gods ends, the affairs of men will no longer concern us. To me, that's the most beautiful kind of story."
By now, Enkidu had nearly recovered from the curse's agony and was struggling to her feet. Seeing this, Ishtar quickly turned away, waving lazily.
"From here on, the stage belongs to you—the King who has already outlived her purpose as the Wedge. Whether this next act becomes an epic or a farce depends entirely on your performance. Don't disappoint me."
Her form began to dissolve as she spoke, scattering into shimmering golden motes before vanishing completely.
…She had, in truth, been afraid.
If Enkidu had suddenly gotten up and fired an Enuma Elish point-blank, it would've been over. This was merely one of Ishtar's avatars, after all. At that distance, even a goddess would be reduced to dust before she could react.
Capricious to the end, Ishtar had left as whimsically as she came.
"Oh, right—next time we meet, just call me Ishta. I like that better, my cute Ophis~"
Her voice faded, lingering like perfume in the still air.
Enkidu, who had been holding her breath the entire time, finally exhaled and slumped weakly to the ground.
"Ophis."
Ignoring Ishtar's final words completely, Ophis crouched before Enkidu. Her expression remained impassive, but a faint, genuine concern flickered in her eyes.
"Ah… it's just as we expected."
Now that Ishtar was gone, Enkidu's earlier hostility melted away, replaced by her usual gentle smile—utterly unconcerned by the curse still ravaging her body.
"I must look pathetic, right? But my pitiful state mirrors the gods' own desperation. Faced with humanity's rebellion, they can only lash out with such childish, meaningless tricks…"
She shook her head slowly, the smile never fading.
"No—perhaps they've already given up?"
Maybe that was the truth. The gods had simply decided to let go—to sever the Chain.
For all their pride, they weren't fools. Some tides could not be turned back.
After countless ages of struggle, Ophis's decision had become the final straw. The gods chose to yield.
The stronger ones wouldn't die, merely fade into confinement—a divine house arrest. The weaker ones… were already irrelevant.
Perhaps, in time, enraged gods would still cast down their last punishments upon humanity. That would be Ophis's next challenge.
But such vengeance would be nothing more than their final, futile resistance.
Regardless of the outcome, the gods had already lost their claim to this world.
The twilight of the Age of Gods had begun.