The gray death fog churned violently as a figure darted through like a flash of lightning.
Red and black blood energy surged around him, his form shifting rapidly—one moment a Mad Lion scaling cliffs, the next an ancient serpent slipping through cracks and tunnels. Even faced with the underworld's treacherous terrain, Ian's speed never faltered. If anything, he moved faster and faster.
Running, leaping, weaving, and springing forward—his plan was taking shape. In a surge of exhilaration, his long-suppressed primal instincts broke free from the constraints of human reason.
With each cell awakened, his body greedily drank in the death miasma and Ether particles surrounding him. His bones and muscles pulsed with a rhythm of delight.
The tingling pain, the prickling itch—it was nothing compared to the silver mana that surged through him like a raging river.
Even as the underworld's death energy corroded his body, some of it was absorbed into his reshaped bones and muscles.
Squelch!
Claws wrapped in gray mist, brownish-red and sharp, sliced into a stone like a knife through tofu. With a slight push, the rock disintegrated into dust.
His attacks now carried the death energy of the underworld—able to strip the life force from all things and unravel their internal structure.
Beyond that, Ian sensed he had developed some resistance to instant death and had gained a high degree of magic resistance against ghost-type beings.
Praise Tiamat!
Praise Ere-sama!
Shifting into the form of an ancient serpent, Ian shot through a narrow crevice, grinning as he mentally made the sign of the cross.
Tiamat's [Authority of the Beast] was truly incredible. With its combination of ecological adaptation, self-modification, and self-evolution, it granted him theoretically limitless potential for growth.
And with the anchor lines linking them—and Tiamat's power divided and integrated into him—he had, in a sense, become a dependent of the Mother of Genesis.
In other words, like Gilgamesh, he now held the qualifications to become a god!
Assuming, of course, that he lived long enough to see it through.
By now, the death fog around him had thinned considerably. In the distance, the Fire Temple of Meslamtaea began to emerge from the haze.
On the mountain path leading to its gate, the Master, holding her spear wheel, was slowly making her way forward.
Ian shifted back into the Mad Lion form and leapt off a cliff, bounding ahead in a frenzy of excitement.
"Roar!"
The blazing-furred beast pounced on the goddess, knocking her to the ground, its fluffy head nuzzling her affectionately.
The ticklish sensation of fur brushing her skin made Ereshkigal burst into laughter. Still giggling, she quickly hugged the big cat's head, begging it to stop.
But the goddess failed to notice that the creature pinned against her chest had narrowed its eyes in pleasure, subtly rubbing its cheek against her while secretly relishing the moment.
In the shadows, its bloodstained maw curled into a smug grin.
Ever since a certain beast had mastered its second transformation, it had taken to exploiting Ereshkigal's sensitivity and ticklishness—shamelessly rubbing up against her like this.
The Master, by now used to it, would simply hug the excited big cat and soothe it.
The only regret was that the goddess's chest was a bit too firm—about as barren as the soil of the underworld.
That had left a certain troublemaker disappointed for quite some time.
As for getting caught?
Heh. What kind of bad thoughts could a little pet possibly have?
After a moment of frolicking, Ian reluctantly got up from his Master's arms and obediently took his place at her side.
Ereshkigal dusted off her red-and-black dress and, while walking toward Meslamtaea, casually asked...
"Did you finish the Spear Cages I assigned to you?"
"Roar!"
Ian let out a low growl, nodded, and pointed a claw toward the line of 300 small black metal huts set up along the riverbank.
Sure, he could speak just fine—but sometimes it was better to play dumb.
If he acted too much like a human, starting tonight, he'd probably be sleeping on the floor.
"Good boy, good boy..."
Ereshkigal gently stroked the fluffy head of her pet, clearly pleased.
Truth be told, the workload that Samael had taken on had eased her burden quite a bit, giving this hole-digging maniac more time to roam beneath Uruk during breaks.
Hmm... originally, this massive project to connect the underworld to Uruk's subterranean layer was supposed to take two years. But with her relentless drive, it would be finished in just a bit over ten more days.
The goddess's face radiated satisfaction and pride, her steps light and almost cheerful as she entered the temple.
With completion in sight, Ereshkigal was starting to relax a little.
As she walked, she kicked off her golden war boots and bent down to peel off the Sumerian-patterned thigh-high sock from her right leg.
Then, her red cloak and the secretive crown holding up her hair were unfastened and casually tossed behind her.
The big cat following her moved expertly, catching them with its paws and dutifully placing the discarded garments and accessories into her usual cabinet, one by one.
Now dressed only in a tight-fitting black corset, Ereshkigal rolled her sore shoulders, then eagerly leapt through a stone doorway. She pulled open the last barrier and dove straight into the pool.
Steam rose, and white water churned. Through the narrow crack in the stone door, Ian caught glimpses of his master swimming gracefully through the warm waters like a sleek fish.
Come to think of it, the spacious, luxurious bath had been his idea—something he'd suggested via a drawing on a clay tablet.
After all, this was the temple of Meslamtaea, a divine construct of the underworld's gods. It had no shortage of geothermal energy, and underground water flowed in abundance.
Besides, Ere-sama spent every day digging holes, coated in dirt and grime, tirelessly crafting Spear Cages. Was it really too much to enjoy a bit of comfort?
A hot soak to wash away fatigue was more than reasonable, wasn't it?
The big cat paced solemnly outside the stone door, ears perked and posture vigilant, guarding with utmost sincerity.
"Samael, bring me one of those bath towels you used last time!"
"And also, the Fountain of Life we collected recently—bring me a jug!"
"Rooaaar!"
The big cat at the door let out a responsive growl. All four paws launched forward like spring-loaded coils as it deftly packed the bath towel and the jug of the Fountain of Life into a basket.
Then, it squeezed through the narrow doorway and trotted briskly to the edge of the pool, delivering the basket.
Within the swirling steam, the cat's sharp eyes took in the full view. It paused briefly, then turned to leave.
But a pale, slender hand emerged from the water and seized its flame-shaped golden tail.
"Don't even think about it! You rolled in dust all day and reek of death energy. If you don't get clean, you're not allowed in bed tonight!"
"Whimper!"
Terror flickered in the big cat's eyes. It shook its head desperately, clearly afraid of water.
But the helpless pet was no match for its master's firm tug.
Its claws dug into the floor, carving four pale scratches, before it was dragged into the pool with a pitiful wail and a huge splash.
"Don't move! Paws up!"
"No—your front paws. Why are there blood clumps in your fur? I'm giving you a proper wash today!"
"You've gotten wilder lately! Sneaking out all the time—who knows what you're up to. And secretly carving clay tablets? You didn't even show me!"
Grumbling as she scolded, the diligent goddess pinned her pet down in the water and grabbed a brush, scrubbing it clean with meticulous care.
It was an experience Ereshkigal had never known before Samael's arrival—and she thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.
As for the poor cat being scrubbed half to death in the bath, its thoughts were anyone's guess.
After all, this whole ordeal had never been voluntary.