The western stretch of the northern wall's ruins, propped against the armory and stairwell, held a few hundred defenders. Under the relentless assault of Laḫmu flooding in from inside and out, their lines steadily collapsed until only a small pocket remained.
Tabbad stepped forward, replacing a fallen comrade, swinging a short sword chipped along the edge. Through a gap in the shield wall, he drove the blade deep into the maw of a climbing Laḫmu, twisting hard until its brain was ruined.
At the same time, the white-haired, white-bearded old general turned to the near-exhausted Spartan king behind him and bellowed.
"Leonidas-sama, it's time. There's no need to hold the north wall any longer."
"Take these lads and cover the citizens of Uruk as they board the ships!"
"We'll leave on the Quetzalcoatlus and meet you all at the Divine Tower in the royal palace!"
With a grinding creak, the stone barrier was lifted. From the dark opening, two warships—enough for a hundred souls—were pushed out into the water.
The soldiers who had been rotated off the line, along with several Magi, leapt aboard, slotting mana crystals into the grooves of the magic arrays on either side.
Once Leonidas jumped aboard, the Temple of Ea's unique water magecraft came to life, and the vessel surged forward, slicing through the waves.
When a few Laḫmu broke the surface, ready to leap aboard and slaughter the crew, hundreds of spears shot from the north wall, each one striking true and pinning the Mysterious Children where they rose.
The ships sped on unhindered, the high ground of the northern wall shrinking into the distance.
Seeing Tabbad's group being forced into an ever-smaller space, driven into a corner, Leonidas glanced toward the unmoving dome overhead—his face darkened.
"Where is the Quetzalcoatlus that was supposed to handle the rescue? Why hasn't it arrived?"
The heavy silence behind him made Leonidas' eyes redden. He seized the collar of the officer beside him, teeth clenched in fury.
"There's no rescue force, is there?! Turn back! I will not abandon my men!"
But just as the Spartan king began to turn, the officer beside him threw his arms around Leonidas, voice breaking.
"My lord, don't you understand what General Tabbad and the others intend?"
"You mean more to us than you know—don't let their sacrifice be in vain!"
"Please… just go!"
Leonidas' gaze locked on the north wall, where one by one his warriors were dragged from the Spartan phalanx and swallowed by the tide of Laḫmu. His eyes burned.
Meanwhile, Tabbad took up a shield, shot a scornful glance at the swarming Laḫmu, and pointed toward the figure on the warship with a booming laugh.
"This isn't his Thermopylae—this is our Uruk!"
"The people of Uruk aren't dead yet, and some foreigner from Greece wants to steal the glory from under us. Will you allow it?"
"No!"
The butts of spears slammed into the ground in unison, the shout that followed crashing like an avalanche.
"Do you remember what Leonidas taught you?"
"Yes!"
Their answer rang to the heavens. Satisfied, Tabbad rhythmically hammered his shield.
"Good! Let this foreigner see Uruk has fine men of its own!"
"Form ranks! Face the enemy!"
"Roar!"
"Roar!"
"Roar!"
Shields beat in perfect rhythm, backs pressed together, spears thrusting faster and faster through the gaps in the wall of defense. Laḫmu that had climbed onto the platform were shoved back and over the jagged edge, tumbling into the flood below like stones into water.
In the end, the Spartan king looked toward the shivering survivors gathered in the Divine Tower's plaza, ground his teeth, closed his eyes, and turned away.
On the northern line, Tabbad watched the two ships race toward the Divine Tower, his heart easing.
Good… they're gone. That's enough.
He lifted his eyes toward the plaza shrouded in magecraft, as if searching for a familiar face in the crowd, and murmured under his breath.
By now, my grandson must be almost a year old.
He weighed about 8.8 pounds at birth—the poor boy's mother had a hard time of it. The king even had Lady Siduri send her special tonics.
Haha… when he grows up, he'll be a fine young man.
With you all alive, Uruk will endure.
Pfft!
The sharp crack of chitin punching through a shield came from the left. Another warrior was dragged into the writhing swarm of Laḫmu and torn apart.
"Crying… wanting to see…"
"Wanting to see humans… crying… heh-heh-heh…"
Amidst the malicious laughter, the hundreds within the Spartan phalanx stood their ground. They began to contract their lines, closing gaps and tightening their formation, holding against the crushing pressure. Even as comrades were torn apart before their eyes, their expressions remained solemn, like statues stripped of fear and emotion.
Bang!
A faint golden glow rippled across the old general's body, the muscles in his arms knotting and bulging. He swung his spear in a brutal arc, smashing a leaping Laḫmu into pulp, then slammed the butt into the ground, sending out a deep, resonant shock.
"Cry my ass! Cry for me first!"
With that furious bellow, a spear came hurtling down from above, skewering the loudest Laḫmu against the rock wall.
"New humans? You pathetic things don't even have a damn bird, and you think you qualify?!"
The old general's eyes flicked to the empty space beneath the creature's four claws, and he spat in contempt.
"Listen up! Don't you dare die just yet. If you haven't taken down ten of them, when you get to the underworld, cut off your bird and bring it to me for drinking snacks!"
The faces that had been as hard as stone began to crack with laughter, the sound rising loud enough to drown out the Laḫmu's eerie shrieks.
"Shame! Damn you!"
"Humans… kill them all!"
Some of the Laḫmu, just beginning to develop a hint of intelligence, trembled with a new emotion—anger. Waves of the enraged Mysterious Children surged toward the last sliver of the northern wall's defense.
The black tide climbed higher and higher, battering the shrinking bastion again and again. It held for twenty full minutes before the oppressive darkness finally swallowed it whole.
In the end, voices soaked in blood yet filled with pride and defiance rang across the battlefield.
"Uruk shall live forever!"
…
Outside the north wall, Gilgamesh seemed to sense it. His lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze fell upon the defense line now completely drowned beneath the swarm. Lifting Ea high, he unleashed an Ether storm that tore downward.
The red-black spiral tore through thousands of Laḫmu, along with the fortifications and human remains beneath them, shattering them to pieces and dissolving them into the pillar of light.
A final gift of farewell.
Well done, my elite.
May your journey be a worthy one.
Buzz!
Just as the King of Heroes paused to give the fallen a moment's tribute, a massive red-black beam swept across the sky. Even with Gilgamesh's quick retreat, the deadly attack grazed his left leg, blasting bone and flesh apart. Golden-red blood sprayed as his body was hurled backward.
Yet, even as he cleared the strike's range, thorn-like light markings bloomed from his abdomen. Pink flesh sprouted over the exposed bone, blood vessels and nerves knitting together as it spread downward.
Looks like that boy's advice was worth following after all.
Catching a chain flung his way, Gilgamesh swung back and landed heavily on a wide deck.