"Be good. Let big sister have a feel."
Kukulkan lifted her hand and pinched Samael's chin, her fingertips gliding gently across it like she was appreciating the delicate curves of a sculpture, leaving a subtle, ticklish sensation in their wake.
"Don't bully Samael!"
Seeing the ancient serpent tense up slightly, Ana hastily swallowed the fruit that was still bulging in her cheeks and rushed over to the bed like a vigilant little bodyguard, positioning herself between the shameless flirt and her target.
"Oh? So you're saying only you get to bully him?"
"N-no, I didn't mean—"
"I've seen it, you know. The way you keep sneaking glances at his neck. Be honest—are your teeth itching? Throat feeling dry? Want to take a bite? I can let you have him."
"Ugh... Kuku's being mean..."
Led along by Kukulkan's relentless teasing, Ana lowered her head in a fluster, her cheeks glowing red, throat dry. The purple-haired girl pulled up her hood, avoiding eye contact with Samael. Her tongue stumbled over her words, her embarrassment and indignation only making her look even more endearing.
Samael let out a small cough, caught between laughter and exasperation. He gave a soft, annoyed grunt.
"You're clearly well enough to joke around and pester Uruk's new king. Guess your injuries aren't that bad."
Goddesses... always holding grudges, Samael thought to himself.
From a certain point of view, Ana was another aspect of the Goddess of Demonic Beasts. The alliance between Gorgon and Kingu had nearly gotten Kukulkan killed—so sneaking in some teasing here and there probably counted as fair play in her eyes.
After a bit of back-and-forth, the conversation returned to the matter at hand.
"Will the Solar Calendar Stone's power last until the eighth day?"
"As long as I'm not directly hit by a Divine Spirit-level opponent, I can barely hold out. But if I take a serious blow... I won't last long."
"...Sorry."
Kukulkan leaned back against the bed frame and closed her eyes, resigned.
"You've done all you can. There's nothing to apologize for."
"Besides, if humanity is to be loved by the gods, they must prove they're worthy of being loved."
Samael's tone was solemn, his face in the sunlight carrying a sculptural, marble-like grace.
Just as they spoke, a powerful tremor struck from both the northern and southern fronts.
Inside the Astrology Tower, the Magecraft array trembled lightly. Dust trickled from above.
Enemies!
Ana, who had been swinging her legs and nibbling on fruit, immediately perked up. She instinctively looked up, grabbed the divine weapon Harpe, and dashed toward the exit.
At the same time, Kukulkan, still recovering in bed, stiffened and tensed, her expression shifting.
"Everyone, settle down!"
Samael reached out with both hands—one pressing down on Ana's little head, the other firmly on Kukulkan's shoulder—frowning slightly as he let out a soft grunt.
"It's just a routine dual assault. We can handle it."
Then, the ancient serpent began chanting, activating the Magecraft array to monitor both fronts, projecting the battlefield onto a screen before Ana and Kukulkan.
...
On the northern wall, Laḫmu after Laḫmu surfaced from the churning waves. Their heads rose densely packed, numbering well over ten thousand.
They hurled themselves repeatedly at the Fangs of Napishtim. After thousands of attempts, several of the massive fangs finally broke, opening a breach in the defense.
The Mysterious Children shrieked with laughter as they poured through, eager to fulfill their Father's will and slaughter humanity.
But in response, hundreds of Dingir cannons mounted along the walls thundered to life. Thick beams of magical energy blasted forth, turning the invasion into a glorified fish-fry.
The waves Laḫmu rode in on were broken down and dissolved before they even reached the northern wall, disintegrated by the Solar Calendar Stone's divine power.
Even when high-magic, flying elites emerged among the Mysterious Children, they were met head-on by Spartan phalanxes and the wind-riding Quetzalcoatlus cavalry, who made sure these mongrels learned their place.
The battle was at a stalemate, both sides suffering losses in a bitter back-and-forth.
...
Inside the city, the Jaguar Warrior led her forest familiars on patrol.
With their heightened senses, the jaguars responded instantly to any strange disturbances in Uruk's streets or underground layers, charging in to engage the scattered Laḫmu head-on.
Despite a disparity in raw power, the combined effect of the Solar Calendar Stone, Magus support spells, and the Temple's spirit descent rituals allowed the swarm of jaguar familiars to swiftly overwhelm any Laḫmu that dared show itself.
Right behind them came personnel from the Sacrificial Grounds, hurling suppressive spells and anti-magic materials into the exposed earth, sealing breaches before they could widen.
Bang!
A Jaguar Warrior leapt onto the Solar Calendar Stone, raised her hooked claws high, and gazed down upon the fortress-city. Her voice rang out—a sharp, solemn proclamation.
"Listen up! This is jaguar territory! Ugly hyenas have no place here!"
"This is our hunting ground! Only we have the right to rule over human prey!"
Whether it was the brutal bloodshed of ritual sacrifice or the godlike vantage from above—this was the power bestowed upon Divine Spirits as higher beings.
But so too was it their duty: to ensure life's continuation, protect what was offered to them, and guide the mortals who worshipped at their feet.
A god's authority is divinely granted.
A god's responsibility is eternal.
Sadly, most of the high and mighty only remember the first half of that truth.
...
Like elegant shepherds, the feline warriors patrolled the city with grace, slipping through alleyways and open streets alike, serving as Uruk's vigilant protectors.
When children saw them pass, they peeked out through windows, eyes wide with curiosity.
Homemakers tossed meat scraps and bones into the streets, letting the divine watchdogs feast as a humble token of gratitude and devotion.
Even amid disaster, the Sumerians carried on. Production lines, marketplaces, daily routines—all continued undeterred. Amid the smoke and bestial roars, life somehow still moved forward.
...
"She stepped on my Solar Calendar Stone again? Tch, is she asking for another beating?"
Back in the Astrology Tower, Kukulkan's fingers clenched tight enough to crackle. Her emerald eyes narrowed, dark and deep, ready to unleash divine fury at a moment's notice.
But then, just as swiftly, the tension melted from her face. A radiant smile bloomed across her lips.
She leaned lightly against the bedframe, the weight in her posture gone—as if she'd just let something go. Her gaze toward the jaguar had softened.
Murmuring quietly, she let it go.
"Well, looks like you've grown up a bit. I'll let you off this time."
...
At the same moment, at the southern gate—
Towering waves surged forward, churning with mud and fallen trees.
Standing atop the ramparts, Ishtar raised her hand with solemn grace. Maanna, the Heavenly Boat, gleamed as its strings stretched taut like a full moon.
In an instant, it absorbed all the surrounding Mana and unleashed a devastating blast.
The light arrows tore through the surging waves like bamboo spears, ripping apart the flood without mercy.
As the torrent shattered and sprayed, corrupted evil spirits burst from the fractured slopes of Mount Ebih. Driven by hatred for the living and curses steeped in malice, they surged forth, eager to feast on human flesh and soul alike.
At the southern gate, where eighty percent of the priestesses and Magi had gathered, dazzling spells lit the air.
A kaleidoscope of Magecraft and divine incantations flooded the battlefield. You could see the thunder and storm spells of ruined Babylon, the earth and water Magecraft from the Eridu Ea Temple, Kutha's sacred purification rituals, and Uruk's life-giving prayers.
Every ounce of Mystery birthed by Sumerian culture had converged on this island fortress—Uruk—now surrounded by flood and peril.
They encompassed everything. They coexisted, united!
Everyone fought with everything they had. Even with their heads pounding, they dared not pause their construction of Magecraft arrays. Even with smoke in their throats, they continued chanting the divine words, again and again, at breakneck speed.
This was humanity's last stronghold—the final bastion of Sumerian civilization.
Under the relentless bombardment, the evil spirits never even reached the south gate. Their bodies were shredded mid-charge, disintegrating into motes of light.
As the battle escalated, reinforcements arrived.
Scarlet specters floated upward, only to be pierced by a sudden thicket of spears jutting from the earth. Howling, they were dragged into the Underworld for transformation.
"Roar! Ereshkigal-sama!"
"Ereshkigal-sama is incredible!"
"Ereshkigal-sama's the best!"
The Kutha refugees now living in Uruk shouted her name with pride, hailing their city's guardian goddess.
The spears from below jabbed in all directions, changing length, some nearly stabbing into the south gate's walls.
She was... being praised.
So many...
Down below, the Kutha people cheered wildly. Survivors from other cities embraced one another, sharing gratitude and encouragement.
Underground, the goddess stood before the Underworld Mirror, leaning on her spear wheel. Her heart was a mess of emotions, yet a soft joy bloomed beneath it. Her cheeks flushed slightly, like a child sneaking candy.
As her fingers brushed upward, they touched the cool band wrapped around her arm. Her lips parted in a soft murmur.
Samael...
Yes—this newfound fame and popularity of the Underworld goddess couldn't have happened without the quiet efforts of Uruk's new shepherd king.
Compared to the over-the-top "idol-making" tactics of humanity's future 21st century, the current methods felt laughably amateur.
Just clarifying Ereshkigal's well-intentioned plague in Kutha and her undercover infiltration of the Three Goddess Alliance to sabotage them from within—just that alone changed everything.
This goddess, who had silently endured the world's burdens for millennia, suddenly became the talk of Uruk.
Her abilities to draw out death energy, accelerate recovery in the gravely wounded, project blessings onto Kutha citizens—these quickly fueled her rise in popularity.
The displaced Kutha people, hungry for belonging, now saw Ereshkigal as a spiritual pillar. Many became fervent believers.
She now ranked third in popularity among the five goddesses.
For the record: kind and gentle Kukulkan ranked first, Ana secured second place with her righteous "cuteness."
The Jaguar Warrior landed fourth.
And the last place?
Damn it! Why am I fifth?!
There's gotta be some rigging going on!
I'm Uruk's guardian goddess! Losing on home turf? That's nonsense!
Ishtar gritted her teeth as she recalled the recent poll conducted by the Temple.
With Maanna drawn tight, she loosed another flurry of arrows, treating the evil spirits bobbing in the flood like punching bags and blasting them one by one.
Anyway, the flower garland votes changed daily, and rankings were updated every Monday.
Next time, no way I'm losing!
Besides, rumor had it the top-ranked goddess got a prize—three valuable items from the Sacrificial Grounds' treasury, all for keeps!
After the war, Uruk would also build statues of the five goddesses. They'd be placed in the most prominent square, ranked by contribution.
Honestly, it was a sneaky way to spark competition.
After calming herself down, Ishtar's eyes gleamed with fierce ambition. The ghosts outside looked like glittering gold coins in her eyes.
But few knew—the so-called "excellent goddess popularity vote" was officially organized by the Temple and Siduri.
The real mastermind, though, was a certain snake laughing in the shadows.
Of course, it wasn't just a prank.
First, the evaluation process brought gods and humans closer, dissolving barriers and building trust.
Second, regardless of whether the goddesses came from the Maya, Greece, or Mesopotamia—or what dark history they bore—their pasts were now blurred. They had drawn a line from who they were.
And so, people began calling them one thing: the goddesses who protect Sumer.
From that, a new bond of trust and faith was born between mortals and gods.
Behind the scenes, whispers of Tiamat stirred anew. Tales and prophecies quietly spread:
Apsu of freshwater could only be restrained by Tiamat of saltwater.
The Mother will return. Humanity will be protected!
And Ishtar's beloved prize? Well, it wasn't exactly free.
Those flower wreaths came from an old lady's specialty shop.
To commission a statue for your goddess, to pray for her protection, you'd visit Old Um's workshop.
Sacrificial Grounds provided rare materials, the Astrology Tower engraved the protective blessings, and the Temple handled the consecration.
A complete and profitable industrial chain had formed.
Oh, and that flower shop and Old Um's workshop? Yeah, the snake had invested in both.
Compared to Ishtar's brazen antics, that serpent's wealth-hoarding skills were far subtler—and far more effective.
As the saying goes: the goddess might profit, but the snake? He never loses.
...
By nightfall, the floodwaters finally receded.
Snipers slumped atop the walls, drenched in mud, gasping in relief.
Seeing the waves settle—and no sign of that bull—Ishtar sighed with relief and patted her chest.
Then, rubbing her sore neck, she gazed back at Uruk and murmured with quiet gratitude:
"At least this time... I didn't screw it up."
So tonight... no need for the "dog tag of disgrace," right?