Seven days' time—long or short, depending—but in this moment of storms and shifting tides, it was enough to bring great changes to this land.
What those changes were, Rovi did not yet know.
Only that, when he turned back on the road leading toward Uruk's royal city, he saw lands fully restored to green life, and villages scattered across the fields.
But among all this, suddenly there were no people.
Of course, those who had once waited for his "resurrection" could not possibly have stayed there for a full seven days.
But aside from their leaving, all around him, whether villages or larger settlements, not a soul could be seen.
Not even a single head of livestock.
Empty houses, silent.
No signs of battle, no traces of destruction. Instead, the ground bore countless footprints and cart-ruts.
As if, in these seven days, there had been a great migration.
He felt he had to uncover everything.
So he walked, observing as he went.
Moments later.
Rovi stopped beneath the clear daylight sky, gazing far over the fields, thick with sprouting greenery, newborn shoots covering the world.
He still did not know exactly what had happened.
But from the traces, he could deduce many things.
For such a vast, voluntary migration, there was only one likely cause in theory—Gilgamesh, ruler of this land, must have given the order.
And at this very moment—no longer a tyrant as before, but showing fully the bearing of a wise king—the young lord of Uruk would not act without reason.
"Scorched earth… preparing for all-out war?" Rovi thought of it easily.
Clear the wilds, withdraw all the people within the walls, gather every resource into one place, to meet the enemy's arrival.
But right now, neither the Bull of Heaven nor Humbaba had yet completed their descent—especially the former, bound so tightly that it could hardly move at all.
Rovi did not sense their full manifestation.
So Gilgamesh's urgency likely was not merely to deal with the strongest divine beast, or the strongest monster.
Yet soon—Rovi found his answer.
The wilderness again.
Across rolling plains and hills, enormous shapes strode in scattered ranks.
They looked like beasts, yet not quite beasts. Leaving aside their monstrous size far beyond the ordinary, just from the gleam of scales flashing with radiant light, the vast wings unfurling storms, the cries that came with fire and thunder, it was clear—these were no common animals.
Like the "animals" of that Monster Forest to the west.
Creatures born from the age of gods, from the Ether that formed the foundation of myth, that supported the descent of the gods themselves—creatures that could only be seen on such a scale in the Age of Gods.
And now, they had appeared again, in great numbers.
Rovi suppressed his presence with the Key of Heaven, cloaking both breath and body. From a rise he glimpsed them, then turned his gaze toward the coast east of the Euphrates.
He looked upward to the vast blue vault of sky, where still lingered the Bull of Heaven, shrouded in the breath of the Netherworld.
Only a wisp of cloud remained.
But what was scattered was only the body; with time, its essence gathered again, more and more.
And the effects were showing.
For example: the gathering of Ether.
The "regression" of the environment.
There was no doubt. These monsters had been born from the Ether dispersed by the Bull of Heaven.
And on Humbaba's side, no doubt it was the same.
Just then, the beasts roaming among the plains and hills suddenly raised their heads, as if sensing something.
They lifted their muzzles toward the heavens, to the Bull of Heaven, and howls rang out.
Not wolves, yet so like wolves howling at the moon.
The ground began to shake.
Dust rolled, gravel leapt from the soil. The beasts moving in the wilderness began to shift as well.
Paws striking, leaving one mark after another. Claws sharp as blades scored the earth, tearing great scars across the land.
The herds of monsters began to gather, surging faster and faster.
Just like the beast tides Rovi had seen before.
Under some strange guidance, they galloped in one direction.
And that direction was…
"Uruk." Rovi didn't even need to think.
They were going to attack Uruk.
Attack the gathering place of mankind.
Otherwise, why would Gilgamesh have ordered the "scorched earth" policy?
"Looks like I'll have to hurry back—"
Here and now, even if he stood still, these beasts could not kill him, so Rovi had no hope of dying beneath this tide.
He had to rush back.
To rejoin Gilgamesh and Enkidu.
Only that way could they carry out the "strategy" the three had already set—carry through the painstakingly arranged, step-by-step plan of his death-seeking!
And so, he set off at once, following in the wake of the monsters.
But before reaching Uruk—
Some dozens of li from the city, he saw a wall.
Towering dozens of meters high, standing like a mountain upon the earth, a wall vast enough to withstand any flood.
Upon the walls, Uruk's soldiers stood in strict formation, ready for battle.
Great cannons were mounted along the top, aimed downward, targeting the surging tide of beasts.
The sight froze Rovi where he stood, his traveler's pupils narrowing.
This was… the Seventh Singularity, the Beast Warfront!?
A scene he had once seen, in Type-Moon's stories.
In that world too, Uruk had raised a massive wall to withstand the onslaught of beasts!
No… wait.
Perhaps only resemblance.
A Singularity is a deviation from proper history, a "fictional history" destined for correction.
And since it is destined for correction, then any great feats achieved within a Singularity are not recorded by the world, and those who wrought them cannot be placed upon the Throne.
Rovi believed—the self who once gazed into the Root would not have chosen such a place as a crossing point.
So it could only be coincidence.
Or… a change wrought upon history by his own presence.
But whatever the case, in only this short span, walls had been raised, and as one of Uruk's leaders in theory, equal in station to Gilgamesh himself, he could hardly stand aside.
Nor would their prearranged plan allow him to.
Then…
"First, drive back these beasts. Then, I'll see for myself what upheavals these seven days have truly brought!"
Rovi raised his hand.
Behind him, golden ripples spread. From them burst countless blades.
Cold light flared, a forest of steel, gleaming sharp and terrible.