A moment later, the ancient snake contentedly rolled up the clay tablet contract signed by its master. He carefully stored the document—evidence of the future decision to lift restrictions on the Spear Cages and grant human souls some measure of freedom.
"Ere-sama, you actually like humans, don't you?"
The sudden question inscribed on the clay tablet caught Ereshkigal off guard. Distracted, she nodded instinctively—then, realizing the implications and the threat to her dignity, quickly shook her head in denial.
"Of course not! I have no interest in mere humans. Living things are disgusting!"
"The only thing I care about is the land of the dead. I couldn't care less what happens to humans on the surface!"
Then why go to Uruk every day, digging tirelessly, painstakingly crafting Spear Cages in hopes of preserving the rationality of human souls during the great calamity?
Under the little creature's half-amused, half-knowing gaze, her stubbornness finally faltered.
Like a haughty swan, Ereshkigal raised her pale neck and muttered, a little begrudgingly.
"Well… if they're willing to accept death… maybe I'll be merciful enough to glance at their souls…"
"After all, once they die, they belong to me…"
According to the mythos of Mesopotamia, all humans ultimately enter the Underworld upon death. In that sense, the souls that dwell within their bodies are destined to become Ereshkigal's possessions.
"So, as the goddess entrusted with souls, you do actually love humans deeply."
The ancient snake pierced through his master's deflection. His unadorned smile had a mischievous, roguish edge.
"Don't get it twisted! I only love [dead humans]!"
Ereshkigal slapped the snake on the forehead, annoyed, her pale neck stiff as she snorted.
"It's love for [humans who will one day die]..."
The ancient snake flicked its tongue and raised its tail, presenting a revised clay tablet.
When humans are alive, you marvel at the miracle of life and feel pity for their suffering.
When they die, you treasure their souls and build Spear Cages to help them retain their reason.
So whether they live or die, your love for them never wavers.
"Hmph! Nonsense!"
Flustered, the goddess turned away, her lips tight and face tinged with red. With hands clapped over her ears, she perfectly embodied her tsundere nature.
Birth, growth, life, and harvest—those are all part of that idiot sister Ishtar's domain. Why should I be the one worrying about how these humans live on the surface?
Just thinking of her irresponsible, spoiled, and selfish sister—who gets to bask in praise, be adored by all, and rule over the grandest city of Uruk as her sanctuary—filled Ereshkigal with indignation. She squatted down and began drawing circles on the ground, her voice sour with envy.
After the world's creation, in order to maintain order in Mesopotamia, divine will decreed that one god must sacrifice their freedom to guard this bleak, frigid land and manage the souls of the dead.
As twin goddesses—two sides of the same coin—Ereshkigal became that sacrificial offering of fate.
Even though she gained supreme authority over the Underworld and stood in a position of near-invincibility, rot, death, and lamentation were never what she desired.
Since the Golden Age, she had diligently upheld order in the Underworld, maintaining the balance between life and death.
Yet she remained imprisoned, trapped here. Even the idea of stepping outside this wasteland to glimpse the sunlight was an impossible dream.
What made it worse was that, more often than not, humans—out of ignorance—would grovel before gods they found useful, seeking their protection and comfort.
At the same time, they blamed her, the ruler of death and terror, for all their misfortunes and their fear of mortality.
Why?!
Why was she forced to watch her other half soar freely across the heavens while she remained shackled in the Underworld?
Why could that sister get away with being spoiled and capricious, while she alone bore the crushing weight of divine duty?
Why did her sister's sanctuary get to be the glorious city of Uruk, while she was stuck with Kutha?
(Wait a minute… is that another reason you've been hollowing out Uruk?)
These were the grievances Ereshkigal had long carried.
So even if she held goodwill toward humanity, she would never admit it aloud.
Watching her stubborn defiance, the ancient snake simply smiled quietly in the shadows.
After a moment, Ian emerged, gently brushing the back of his mistress's hand to soothe her. Then he raised the clay tablet, its surface filled with hesitant, confused handwriting.
"Hey, Ere-sama. You love humans when they're alive, and their souls after death. So why… why did you choose to join 'them' and bring terror to Mesopotamia?"
"I don't get it…"
"I've always believed that Ere-sama is the kindest, most adorable goddess! You'd never take a life without a reason!"
Ereshkigal's eyes landed on the ancient snake's face, catching a trace of sorrow in its expression. Her lips pressed tight, teeth digging into the flesh, her brows drawing together, then loosening.
After a moment of internal struggle, she hesitated—then slowly opened her mouth.
"This is the fate of Mesopotamia… and of humanity as well."
"No one can change the outcome…"
She had once considered defying it. Thought about standing with humanity. But in the end, out of fear—of something—she abandoned the idea.
The ancient snake understood the subtext behind her vague response, but feigned confusion, hoping to draw out more of her secrets.
Such a devious little thing—and a skilled actor at that. But the light in its eyes dimmed further as it looked at its master.
Ereshkigal couldn't bear that look of disappointment. Gritting her teeth, she raised her hand and gestured toward the temple. A lance of light slowly began to coalesce.
When its butt struck the ground, crimson-black ripples spread outward. Spear cores emerged one by one, and dense cuneiform divine patterns whirled and flickered in the air.
With her dominion over the Underworld and terrain-shaping authority, the goddess created a sealed, secretive barrier around them.
"Do you remember what I told you once?"
"What was it?"
Ian looked puzzled, unable to recall what she meant.
"Humanity must pass through four great eras—Golden, Silver, Bronze, and Iron—before it can fully emerge from the cradle."
"And right now, Uruk is at the end of the Silver Age…"
The Underworld goddess bit her lip, deliberately emphasizing those final syllables.
The end… of the Silver Age?
The ancient snake furrowed its brow, chewing over the implications. Then, like a bolt of lightning, understanding struck.
What does the end of an era mean?
It means a catastrophe powerful enough to engulf the entire world is taking shape—descending even now!
Civilizations overturned. Inheritance severed.
Like burning weeds to clear the fields, preparing soil and space for the next season's rice.
And to accomplish that, the most brutal but effective method would be the annihilation of Mesopotamian city-states like Uruk—the vessels of Sumerian culture!
That is destiny!
Even without the return of Tiamat. Even without the alliance of the Three Goddesses. Even if the new Three Storms never came—
The calamity is still inevitable!
The ancient snake felt as if it had accidentally torn a corner off the sky-darkening veil. A chill crept down its spine. It shivered, then cautiously slithered close to its master's ear, whispering with disbelief.
"But you're the goddess of the Underworld. Here, you're nearly invincible!"
The goddess fell silent. She recalled her long, fruitless yearning for the world above. Raising her fingers, she gently brushed the ancient snake's small head, her voice a soft, lingering whisper.
"The gods… aren't as free as you think. We're bound by many things…"
"With heaven-granted authority… comes heaven-ordained fate…"
"Some things have long since been decided…"
The ancient snake heard the deep helplessness in her words and flicked its tongue, inscribing jagged letters deep into the earth.
"Ere-sama… is it true that even you can't defy this fate?"
"I cannot."
The master answered with her eyes closed. But then, her soft touch atop the ancient snake's head paused for a breath. A whisper, faint as wind, reached Ian's ear.
"…But I already am."
The extinction of Sumerian culture. The surface of Mesopotamia swept clean. Human souls dismantled, their bodies exploited—this is the original destiny.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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