Ana instinctively summoned the sickle-shaped divine weapon, Harpe, stepping in front of Samael and eyeing King Gilgamesh warily.
But a hand gently pressed down on her shoulder. Its owner stepped past the young girl, approaching with slow, steady steps, his tone calm and expression resolute.
"King Gilgamesh, with your wisdom, surely you know I am no spy for the Goddess of Demonic Beasts."
"If I were, why would I bring the battle report from the ruined city of Babylon to Uruk? Why would I risk taking Ana with me to intercept that snake-haired monster poised to break the city's defenses?"
"I believe in the true Mother of Genesis—Tiamat."
All three present were beings far above the mundane, fully aware of the situation. That the so-called Goddess of Demonic Beasts was a fraud was no major secret.
Even so, the forbidden name spoken so devoutly by Samael caused a slight stir among them.
Gilgamesh rested his chin on one hand, crimson eyes glinting with an odd curiosity.
"Oh? As I recall, the guardian deity of Babylon was the King of Kings—the one who slew the mother of the evil dragon."
"And now you've converted to that guardian deity's mortal enemy? Aren't you afraid of the gods' wrath?"
"Wrath?"
Samael sneered, repeating the word with mockery. He looked up at the King of Heroes, his gaze hollow and cold.
"Haven't the gods punished us enough already? The Cedar Forest ravaged by Huwawa, the deafening apocalypse of the Great Flood, seven years of drought across Mesopotamia—and now, the three storms..."
"Those exalted wills have never shown us mercy."
Because divine names were taboo, both sides instinctively used veiled references instead.
That irrefutable truth left the room in heavy silence.
The ancient serpent turned north, recalling what the underworld specter Tareel had told him about the devastation of the fallen city. After a brief moment of reflection, his voice turned low and heavy.
"Guardian deities exist for the sake of their cities, but that one abandoned his duty, watching coldly as Babylon fell."
"What right does he have to receive our offerings? What right does he have to enjoy our faith?"
"Even the dullest shepherd in Sumer knows that if sheep give milk and blood, they should at least be protected by hounds to ward off wolves and guard their property."
"But that so-called 'merciful' Lord wouldn't even grant us a path to survival!"
Samael let out a cold laugh, then calmly lifted his head, eyes blazing as he stared straight at the King of Heroes.
"Babylon has fallen. Naturally, it no longer has a guardian god."
"Meanwhile, on the road to Uruk, that 'Mother of Evil Dragons' you revile saved me—twice!"
"If the King of Kings won't show compassion to mortals, why shouldn't I devote myself to one who truly offers salvation?"
"Are lambs only fit to cower in the dirt, give up all resistance, and let the Demonic Beasts tear out their throats while they die wailing?"
"Am I supposed to be so stupid as to cast myself onto the altar, sacrifice everything, and wait for that Lord to maybe open his eyes?"
"Do humans not deserve to live?!"
With each accusation, Samael's voice rose. The ancient serpent recalled the origins of Enlil's Great Flood, his face twisted with biting irony.
"Maybe, even if they hear our dying screams, they just find us noisy!"
"You dare... blaspheme?!"
Gilgamesh shot to his feet on the throne, eyes narrowing as a chilling roar echoed through the hall. Golden whirlpools burst open in every direction.
From within, sharp blades, spears, and axes emerged—every one aimed squarely at the rebel's heart and head.
"So what if I do?"
Samael grinned, placing a hand on Ana to hold her back as she stirred under the tension. His voice, soft and sinister, echoed like a devil's whisper through the hall.
"Haven't you always done the same?"
"Huwawa's atrocities should be forgiven..."
"Mesopotamia must endure seven years of drought as penance..."
"The three storms must fall, and Uruk must meet its end..."
"As the divine wedge driven into the world by the heavens, have you ever obeyed the will of the gods?"
He then turned to the King of Heroes, who now wore the stormclouds of fury on his face. The corners of the ancient serpent's lips curled into a twisted smile.
"I merely blaspheme the name of a god, while you defy divine will."
"So then, between us, whose sin is truly greater?"
The atmosphere turned suffocating. Gilgamesh crossed his arms, descending from the throne step by step, an aura of deathly severity surrounding him.
Yet, when the King of Heroes locked eyes with Samael, his stern expression twitched strangely—then suddenly—
"Hahahahahahahahahaha!"
A chilling, manic laugh burst from Gilgamesh's mouth, echoing through the hall.
"Amusing! Truly amusing!"
"You blaspheme the name of a god, and I am the one defying divine will?"
"Such heinous crimes! Absolutely heinous! Hahaha!"
Samael subtly pulled the increasingly bewildered Ana behind him, shielding the pure girl from corruption. The tension coiled in his body slowly eased.
"No wonder you're the one who dared climb Mount Ebih alone, using gems from the Babylon Temple to bribe that foolish woman."
"Your answer brings me delight! Unprecedented delight!"
Gilgamesh's face radiated satisfaction, and his gaze toward Samael now carried a faint trace of appreciation.
"I kept wondering: all those Babylonian soldiers retreating with you to Mount Ebih died—how did you evade the pursuit of the Magical Beasts and make it to Uruk alive...?"
"And during the Battle of Babylonia, how did a living man suddenly gain the ability to transform into a Magical Beast...?"
From a corner, the dozing Incubus stirred, lifting his head with a yawn and adding cheerfully,
"Ara, so it turns out you were favored by the god Tiamat..."
"Well then, everything makes sense now..."
"I once joined the Druid sect that thrived in ancient Britannia. I personally saw blessed male witches display the ability to transform into Magical Beasts."
"They called themselves 'Children of Nature,' believing that all things possess a soul..."
"And the Goddess Tiamat, as the Mother of the Sumerian civilization, is the origin of the heavens, the earth, and all life."
"So, calling this beast-transformation ability 'evidence of collusion with the Goddess of Demonic Beasts' is beyond ridiculous!"
This conniving old fox!
Samael's lips twitched as he rolled his eyes internally.
When things were dangerous just now, you kept quiet. But now that the dust's settled, here you are trying to play the hero.
Despicable. Utterly despicable.
And I have a sneaking suspicion that you were the one who started those rumors in the first place.
The ancient serpent shot Merlin a suspicious glance, grumbling to himself.
But before these two schemers could continue their silent exchange, Gilgamesh—having vented his emotions—returned to his throne and asked with a spark of curiosity,
"So, you who are favored by Tiamat—what is your true goal?"
Samael's expression turned solemn as he finally voiced the answer he had long prepared.
"To clear the name of the Goddess Tiamat and bring back our Mother of Origin!"
The hall fell into silence.
Even Merlin, who had been smiling gently, and Gilgamesh, who had just relaxed slightly, stiffened at once.
At a time when humans were severing ties with the gods—when the third storm swept through Mesopotamia—you want to drag back an even greater catastrophe from the Sea of Imaginary Numbers?
Are you insane, or did we hear you wrong?
The King of Heroes' expression turned cold, his gaze sharp and foreboding.
His tolerance for belief did not mean he'd indulge chaos.
And the return of Tiamat?
That wouldn't be parting from the gods—it would be a direct rupture.
An outright declaration of war.