"Moo!"
The instant the three Noah's Arks crossed the southern boundary of the city, serpents of lightning came writhing down from the clouds.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Enormous pale-yellow wings unfurled, soft yet unyielding, shielding the sky from every bolt of falling lightning. Each impact shattered scales, sending fragments spinning away.
From within the purple-red shadow that radiated a suffocating menace came the hiss of serpents—mindless, bestial. A whip of its tail struck Gugalanna, hurling the Bull of Heaven into the deeper dark.
Those pale-yellow wings spread wide, and a roar filled with raw fury thundered across the sky.
"Let me show you what true pain is, beast!"
"I will be the Great Snake and strike down the terror that tramples Mesopotamia!"
"Melt away all—Pandemonium Cetus!"
A vast purple-red magic array rippled outward. From it, colossal beams of light—the same that had once burned nightmare into Uruk's memory—shot up, splitting the heavens.
Sparks danced where they scraped against Gugalanna's golden hide. Her cheeks were almost completely covered in overlapping scales, and from them sprouted snarling serpent heads, baring dripping fangs.
To any mortal's eyes, she looked even more frenzied and terrifying than any magical beast. Yet the Bull of Heaven, wreathed in storm and lightning, had never seemed more divine or imposing.
This time, for the sake of humanity, the goddess had willingly become a monster.
Humans… live on. And thank you… for the flowers.
In the darkness, the massive serpent lunged at the divine beast of storm and thunder. Snakes writhed from her head, coiling tightly around Gugalanna, biting deep into the Bull of Heaven.
In the cabins, survivors cradled the carved image of a young girl, kneeling in silent prayer.
For the first time, they wished for a monster to defeat a god.
"Go! Don't stop!"
"Twelve knots! Destination—the Persian Gulf! Full speed ahead!"
On land and in rivers, Apsu's strength was overwhelming. Even Ereshkigal could not hold him for long. They had to reach open sea as quickly as possible—only there would they have any real chance of survival.
Samael forced himself not to look back at the battle raging behind and ordered the soldiers and Magi to push the Arks to their limits.
The waves swelled and parted as the three ships drew farther and farther from the ruins of Uruk. Behind them, the dark blue and black tides clashed and tore at one another, the battle between bull and serpent growing ever more savage.
We… made it out alive!
In the cabins, survivors embraced each other, weeping with relief.
With almost all combat strength exhausted and even Gilgamesh in recovery, Samael had to stay alert and manage the fleet himself.
"Where are we?"
"Looks like Ur! We've covered nearly half the distance!"
At the one-armed General Tim's report, the ancient serpent let out a slow breath.
Close. Very close now.
Apsu still hadn't caught up—their chances of survival had risen to at least fifty percent. If things went well from here, the storms outside wouldn't even scratch the hulls.
On the second Ark, food, water, livestock, poultry, and cultivated plants formed a self-sustaining ecosystem, enough to keep them alive at sea for over half a year.
No one knew what the Noah's Ark of future scripture would truly be like, but Samael and Gilgamesh had poured everything into building these.
They had drained Uruk's treasury dry, and even cut the Gates of Babylon's rare-material reserves—meant to store countless conceptual treasures for the future—by a full third.
The man overseeing the project had been none other than Ziusudra, the West Asian hero who survived Enlil's Great Flood.
"Where's Ziusudra? Wasn't he supposed to be leading the navigation?"
During a quick inspection of the fleet, Samael noticed the absence of the familiar figure and frowned.
He had planned to call on the hero in a critical moment to stand with him against Apsu.
But it seemed… he had been left waiting.
"That man said he would appear when the time came."
Tim, the one overseeing and executing the entire project, replied with a bitter smile, clearly with little hope that Ziusudra would actually help.
Did he not come?
Samael pressed his lips together, slipping silently through the crowd, checking on the survivors' conditions and trying to soothe their shaken spirits.
Bang!
Before anyone could truly settle down, a heavy thud came from the rain-blocking upper deck.
With a stifled groan, a pale Ereshkigal stumbled into the cabin, a lantern in one hand, the other supporting Ana—unconscious, her abdomen stained red with blood.
With the last patch of Uruk's land swallowed by the flood, the water cycle had been reshaped, the very earth stripped apart and reformed. The fallen underworld had completely lost its role as a prison and as a stabilizing force.
So, though Ereshkigal was gravely wounded, she was finally freed from the endless burden of her duty.
But a far deadlier problem had only just begun.
"Apsu… Apsu is coming!"
The dry whisper rang through everyone's mind like a thunderclap.
Above, the pitch-black night erupted with rolling thunder. In the flickering ghost-light, the vast silhouette of a colossal dragon-beast came rushing in.
From its wings surged a red-and-black Ether storm, dragging with it a raging black tide from the upper reaches of the Two Rivers, pouring down toward them.
Apsu.
The ancient serpent's pupils shrank sharply as a shrill alarm echoed through all three Noah's Arks.
Many went pale, falling to their knees on the deck or at their bunks, clutching statues of the goddess and praying fervently.
Looking into the cabin at the familiar faces lying unconscious, Samael felt a heavy darkness gather in his brow.
Of the five great goddesses, the four strongest—Ereshkigal, Ishtar, Kukulkan, and Ana—had all been defeated.
The lone Jaguar Warrior was little more than a downgraded extra, barely capable of defending the Arks. Against a monster like Apsu, she could hammer away for a hundred years and still not chip more than a few scales.
Even Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and Merlin, on whom Samael had placed such high hopes, were at their limits.
Now, even if the gods heard their prayers, it was doubtful they could answer.
All that remained were the humans… and what could they possibly use to fight back?
Was it truly impossible to defy fate?
As Apsu closed in, a wave of powerlessness crushed down on Samael. He leaned his head back against the wall, the weight of defeat heavy in his chest.
But then—his vision shifted.
Through his cross-shaped pupils, he saw fine strands of light flowing from the humans' prayers—into the goddess statues, into the goddesses themselves, into Enkidu and the others.
Their battered bodies were slowly mending.
Most of those strands poured into the royal seal in Gilgamesh's hand, making the King of Heroes recover at the fastest pace.
More astonishing still—his power seemed to be subtly growing.
A spark flared in Samael's mind, and he murmured the thought over and over:
The mandate and the role of the gods exist because of human belief. The greatness and legends of heroes endure because people sing their praises!
Authority is not the sole domain of the gods—human hearts can shape destiny too!
So that's it… That's it!
Gilgamesh, who had grown into an unspoken understanding with the rest, narrowed his eyes and rose to his feet.
"You've found your answer?"
Samael nodded firmly, the ghost-light in his eyes burning with heat.
"King Gilgamesh—it's time to fulfill your promise!"
"Swear by your royal authority, and immediately preside over the Great Offering to the Mother Goddess Tiamat!"
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
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