"Kind, gentle, lovely, and beautiful Ere-sama, thank you for taking me in."
Ereshkigal unconsciously read the cuneiform carved below. For a moment, she froze—then her face flushed red, and her voice turned flustered and unsure.
"L-Lovely and beautiful?"
"I-I'm not that great..."
A rustling behind her—then the ancient snake flicked its tail, dropped the stone, and nudged her hand gently with its head, pointing her attention to a newly written line.
"Beauty takes many forms, but it is absolute all the same."
"Darkness can surpass light; earth can overcome the heavens."
"To me, you in the underworld shine brighter than all the stars in the sky."
Darkness surpasses light? Earth overcomes heaven?
Ereshkigal's body trembled slightly as if something stirred within her. She whispered the words, her eyes gleaming more vividly.
Her fingers, which had been nervously twisting at the hem of her robe, slowly curled into a fist. With a mix of excitement and release, she suddenly thrust that fist into the air.
That's right! Why should I lose to that pampered, spoiled, horrible woman?
But just as she rode the high, Ereshkigal's gaze drifted to the sides—falling on the dark, heavy mist, and the decaying, desolate land that surrounded her.
Unease crept in. Her body tensed; she bit her lip, her expression growing uncertain again.
"But I'm the one who governs death and decay..."
"In the underworld, not a single flower blooms. Not even a grapevine will grow..."
Faced with the goddess's self-pity, the ancient snake flicked its tongue, swished its tail, and began writing again on the stone.
"Light is born from darkness; death is another kind of beginning..."
"Precisely because death exists, humans cherish life even more..."
"A fool sees only rot and blackness in withered plants—but that decay is the soil where beauty takes root."
"Compared to basking in sunlight and squandering time, it is the hidden rot and quiet death buried deep in the earth that truly deserve our praise!"
These defiant yet resounding words echoed in Ereshkigal's heart, stirring a storm of emotion within her.
"Even if the underworld is dark and heavy, even if not one vine can grow here…"
"You, Ere-sama, offer shelter to countless souls—and you even took me in."
"In this barren land, you are the most beautiful flower of the underworld."
The ancient snake carved the final words deeply into the slab. The stone stylus wrapped in its tail tapped the surface rhythmically, its glowing vertical pupils deep in thought.
After a pause, Ian's gaze turned soft with reverence. Then, with careful emphasis, he added one last line:
"And the only one."
When Ereshkigal heard those thunderous words of affirmation, a long-standing gloom—the despair and resignation she had buried within her—cracked open just slightly.
She had heard countless cries, curses, and pleas from the dying souls who passed through her realm.
Though all things begin and end, beginnings are praised and celebrated—while death, the end, is blamed and shunned.
But in all those millennia, she had never received recognition like this.
And even more shocking—these words had come from a snake.
Could the Herb of Immortality actually grant wisdom?
At the same time, emotions she couldn't place welled up, and Ereshkigal could no longer maintain her usual poise. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson.
That shy rejection of praise, mixed with reluctant delight, made her seem all the more human—and irresistibly charming.
"Well, I mean, I did save you, but there's no need to go overboard with the flattery..."
Hmm. So Master's a little thin-skinned. Better ease off now—any more and it'd just sound fake.
The ancient snake struck a thoughtful pose, hesitated for a beat, then drooped its head with feigned reluctance.
Ereshkigal gathered her pet into her arms, gently stroking its cool, smooth little head with her fingertips. Then, with a soft sweep of her hand, she erased all the cuneiform from the stone slab.
"By the way, you just called me 'Ere'?"
"Hmm… It's not quite my true divine name, but the pronunciation's close—and it doesn't sound bad."
"Well then, as a reward for what you said earlier, you can keep calling me that from now on. Decision made."
To lift her pet's spirits, Ereshkigal offered a small reward.
The ancient snake lifted its head and let out a thrilled hiss. Its two-meter-long body coiled and slid affectionately around its master's chest and neck, clearly pleased.
"Ahh! That tickles...!"
The soft, tingling sensation from the scales brushing her neck and collarbone made Ereshkigal giggle uncontrollably.
After a bit of playful chaos, the goddess tugged on her clingy pet's tail, pulling the little troublemaker off her. Mimicking a shepherd disciplining a dog, she pointed at the snake and gave it a stern command.
"Sit! No more messing around!"
The ancient snake obediently slipped off her body, curled up neatly on a large blue-black rock, and used its tail to pick up a few ore stones, handing them to its master.
"Ah! This is bad—there's still so much work left!"
The moment she took the stones, Ereshkigal looked up at the temple's gradually fading glow and immediately dove back into her tasks in a flurry of panic.
"This is all your fault! Always playing around! If I don't finish this, you're not going anywhere!"
The more flustered she got, the more her pace picked up. While refining and extracting materials from the ore to craft new Spear-Cages, she continued grumbling in irritation.
Still… she's really just a lonely girl who needs some affection and recognition.
Ian quietly followed along, assisting with the work. Watching the earnest, diligent figure ahead, he couldn't help but smile softly.
Now that he thought about it, it had already been several months since Gilgamesh flung him into the underworld.
Thanks to the immortality within his body, he had thrived here. His size and mana had steadily grown.
In his spare time, Ian had even managed to learn basic cuneiform from the underworld spirits.
Along the way, he'd gathered scattered knowledge on the distribution of Mesopotamian city-states and their divine legends—laying the groundwork for a future journey to the surface world.
All in all, this exile had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
One thing was clear: the King of Heroes had kept his promise—and generously let him live.
But when Ian thought back to the details of their debate, he remembered something that stirred doubt.
When he mentioned the prophecy of Gilgamesh reuniting with Enkidu, the king hadn't seemed surprised.
Could it be Gilgamesh had already foreseen this through clairvoyance?
If so, why had Ian's gamble—using that very knowledge—still succeeded?
Even while pondering, he didn't neglect his task. Wrapping his tail around a metal spear-blank engraved with divine cuneiform, he plunged it into the earth, forming a barrier to shelter lost souls.
Suddenly remembering something, the ancient snake turned and scribbled out a question on the stone, then peeked up at his master.
"Ere-sama, have you known every time I snuck out?"
"Of course!"
"But the temple's so hot and stuffy. Keeping you locked in there all the time would've suffocated you, so I pretended not to notice."
"Hehe… But the way you sneak out from under the blankets every time—absolutely hilarious."
The goddess paused, amused by the memory, a smile tugging at her lips.
"But weren't you asleep?"
Ian asked glumly, convinced his stealth had always been flawless.
"Little one, this world is dangerous. If you want to stay alive, you must stay alert—even in your sleep."
"Besides, you're still far too weak. You can't even mask your aura. I don't need to use divine power to sense you—I can see your every move."
"And without my divine presence cloaking you, any wandering Gallû Spirit could catch your living scent and tear you apart. Don't be so reckless next time."
With a flick of her finger, Ereshkigal gently tapped Ian's forehead, her voice firm but gentle.
The ancient snake froze, as if suddenly realizing something. It hesitated before slowly writing a fragmented line on the stone slab.
"Then… what about King Gilgamesh?"
"If I ever meet him again while he's asleep… could I…"
The goddess's smile faded. Her brows drew tight, and an eerie look surfaced in her eyes as she muttered with grave seriousness:
"Run. As far as you can."