The atmosphere in the Divine Tower of the royal palace was solemn.
The four goddesses—Quetzalcoatl, Jaguar Warrior, Ana, and Ishtar—escorted the Shepherd Priest, who held the royal seal, into the grand hall.
Merlin, representing the Astrology Tower, Siduri, the High Priestess of the Sacrificial Grounds, and Leonidas, King of Sparta representing the military, all nodded respectfully.
The priestesses and priests, facing the divinely favored Samael, naturally lowered their heads in reverence. Compared to King Gilgamesh, they were even more willing to pledge loyalty to one of their own, hoping to change their marginalized standing.
"The king is currently intercepting the Laḫmu near the Cedar Forest and seeking a weakness in Apsu."
"For now, I accept the appointment and will temporarily assume royal authority."
Samael stepped forward with the royal seal in hand. He did not ascend Gilgamesh's throne, instead choosing to stand firmly on the steps. Turning around, he raised his arm and shouted with stirring resolve.
"Everyone, the end has come—this is our farewell to the gods!"
"Even if Uruk faces destruction, the gods cannot erase the legacy mankind has built!"
"The name of Sumer will endure forever! Our resolve will stain this land!"
"In this moment, in the name of humanity—we declare war on fate!"
It had to be said, the ancient serpent's words carried a powerful spark of inspiration.
More importantly, his deeds spoke louder than his words. His achievements were enough to win the admiration of everyone present.
Gazing into those cross-shaped pupils, hearts burned with passion, and people beat their chests in salute.
Yet beneath his calm exterior, the ancient serpent was quietly cursing.
How did he—son of Tiamat, the one destined to usher in the end—end up as the king of Uruk? Was this the ultimate feat for a traitor?
Siduri and the others who still had doubts exchanged glances at the steps beneath Samael's feet and the empty throne behind him. They silently nodded, their impressions of him improving.
"Alright, the situation is urgent. Begin the battle report!"
With a curt motion to quiet the room, Samael led everyone to the sand table to begin the war council.
"There are currently three pressing matters."
"Tracking Apsu's whereabouts, securing Uruk's defenses, and preparing for the worst-case scenario if things deteriorate."
"First, based on the current situation, the Black Tide has only retreated temporarily. Apsu is hiding in the abyss beneath the Cedar Forest, still digesting the Holy Grail, awaiting the restoration of his authority."
The old trickster Merlin looked toward the Cedar Forest with a solemn gaze.
Kukulkan frowned, crossing her arms as she stepped forward, eyes flashing with deep concern.
"To be honest, this is far from good. Next time we face him, we'll likely be up against the God of Origin in his full form!"
Samael nodded.
"The quieter it is now, the more violent the coming storm will be..."
"That's why we must prepare thoroughly in advance—only then do we stand a chance."
The Jaguar Warrior scratched her head, shaking rain from her hands in disgust and muttering under her breath.
"This storm hasn't stopped once. Felines hate water the most."
Ishtar glanced out at the torrential downpour and snorted.
"That just proves things are worse than we thought. Father God has no patience left—he can't even be bothered to hide his intentions."
"This rain, falling while he digests the Holy Grail, is to prepare for his rise to the surface."
Ana pushed her way forward from the crowd, her expression tense and serious.
"Exactly. The Goddess Tiamat represents the salty waters of the ocean, while Apsu represents the freshwater of rivers, lakes, and underground depths..."
"This unrelenting rain is accelerating the water cycle across Mesopotamia, speeding up Apsu's recovery."
"At the same time, it gives him a medium—water—through which he can seize control and recreate the world!"
"Moreover, the Black Tide can now flow upstream. When that happens, not even the Fangs of Napishtim, let alone the city walls on either side, will be able to stop it."
Samael shot Ana a look of approval, though his eyes darkened slightly as he lowered his gaze.
It seemed the girl had absorbed something from that shard of Gorgon divinity.
"Then, is there a way to exploit Apsu's weakened state to defeat or seal him again?"
Siduri clearly caught the deeper meaning in Ana's words.
The longer this dragged on, the heavier the rain would fall—and with it, humanity's dwindling hopes.
If the world were submerged, Mesopotamia would fall to the floods without Apsu even needing to show himself.
The best move now was to strike at the source—to find the god behind the downpour and eliminate him before it was too late...
"King Gilgamesh remained near the Cedar Forest for that very reason."
Samael raised his right arm, throwing a bit of cold water on Siduri's hopeful assumptions.
"But in my view, that may not lead to any results..."
"On one hand, Ere and I searched the Underworld and the areas north of Kutha and Uruk for three days, again and again, but we couldn't detect any divine core reaction from Apsu."
"On the other hand, even with his strongest weapon, Ea, Gilgamesh could only disperse Apsu's liquid form—he couldn't inflict any real damage."
"That's why I suspect that even if Apsu does have a divine core, it might not be in the Cedar Forest at all."
His eyes narrowed slightly, and his tone grew heavy.
"Since the king is handling the north, we'll begin our search in the south. Hopefully, we'll find something before the disaster strikes."
With the direction now set, everyone could only go along with the plan and shift their focus to a new area in hopes of uncovering Apsu's weakness.
"Before we move on to the second issue, I want to know—how much fighting force does Uruk still have?"
"Five thousand soldiers. Add in the Magi, priests, and priestesses, and we might have around a thousand total."
Samael looked at Leonidas in disbelief, then turned to Siduri.
"What about the ordinary citizens?"
"Around fifteen thousand..."
"And the total population left in all of Mesopotamia?"
"Rough estimate—about fifty thousand..."
The High Priestess checked the clay tablets once more, confirming the reports from each city, then looked at Samael, who stood there stunned.
"Is something wrong, Shepherd Priest?"
"That many people survived? Incredible... unbelievable!"
"Huh?"
Startled by his own outburst, Samael quickly composed himself, his expression turning solemn, then filled with relief.
"I mean, you've all done remarkably well. The results are far beyond what I had expected!"
"Now, I feel even more confident in challenging this so-called Mandate of Heaven!"
At those words, the astonishment in everyone's eyes gradually faded, replaced by a sense of pride at the Shepherd Priest's praise.
Phew! That was close!
Samael let out a quiet sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his brow. Once he calmed down, a gleam returned to his eyes.
Uruk had twenty thousand survivors, and Mesopotamia still had fifty thousand people alive. That was practically a miracle.
From what he remembered, by this point in time, Uruk should have been nearly wiped out—barely five hundred survivors remaining.
As the ancient serpent studied the sand table closely, he began to understand the reason why, and the shock on his face gradually faded...
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
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