Under the gray-black robe, the figure gripping a wooden staff seemed to embody darkness itself—silent, unseen, unknowable.
Perhaps this was the legendary survivor of Enlil's great flood—Ziusudra.
But before Samael could approach to investigate, Ana came trotting over, carefully offering her favorite snack into the old man's hands.
"Little girl, unnecessary pity is a kind of evil. So is needless self-blame."
"Besides, a beast fallen from godhood is perhaps even more in need of pity from others."
Startled, Ana thought she had offended the old man's pride. She instinctively looked down, avoiding his gaze.
"This is advice. Listen well! Others are both hell—and paradise."
"To run is to give up your right to choose. That path leads to the bleakest end!"
"Guard that kindness. It's the only path through the darkness!"
Though confused by the words, the purple-haired girl heard the gentleness beneath his stern tone. Her unease began to ease, even if the meaning remained unclear.
But the ancient serpent, well-versed in Ana's fate, understood.
Her origin was the snake-haired monster Medusa from Greek mythology—the youngest of the three Gorgon sisters.
In the future, for reasons unknown, the goddess Athena would incite heroes to strike them down.
Those endless intruders became a recurring nightmare, disturbing the sisters' peaceful lives.
Others—they were hell itself.
So Ana and her sisters fled the marshes, seeking refuge on the Shapeless Island, isolating themselves from the world in hopes of safety.
Even so, the heroes kept coming. That lonely island far from the mainland became a dead end for the Gorgon sisters.
Eventually, overwhelmed and unable to resist, the adult Medusa devoured her sisters and transformed into the fallen evil goddess Gorgon—the prototype of the Beast Goddess.
And if the old man's words were a warning—or a prophecy—then perhaps there had been another path.
If they had chosen to confront fate rather than flee blindly... things might have ended differently.
Others could be paradise, too.
To have survived the flood sent by Enlil, one of Babylon's three great deities—this ancient figure of West Asian legend was clearly no ordinary being.
Samael's expression shifted to astonishment.
Just then, the eyes beneath the old man's hood slowly turned toward the ancient serpent, a growing surprise flickering within.
"All I see in you... is chaos."
Suddenly, something seemed to stir in the legendary survivor's memory. His hand tightened around the staff, trembling faintly.
In the next moment, both Samael and Ana were pulled into a strange abyssal layer, the outside world completely cut off.
"A fate-defier! A fate-defier!"
With clear prophetic insight, Ziusudra extended his thin, bony arm and seized Samael's wrist. His hoarse, gravelly voice had shifted—distorted and sharp.
"Listen carefully! The waters are split—above and below! Life and death belong to separate realms!"
"Authority does not belong to the gods alone. The hearts of men can shape destiny!"
"When heaven and earth reunite, the world will once again face a choice!"
"There can be no creation without destruction. No life without death!"
These words, like whispers from the dark, echoed in Samael's mind, repeating endlessly with deep significance.
Then came the storm.
A sudden gust roared, blinding white light tore through the clouds, and rumbling thunder rolled out in serpentine waves. An oppressive gloom blanketed everything, as if the world itself bowed in submission.
When Samael finally regained his senses, the mysterious old man had vanished.
Only the residual presence lingered in the air—like dragon's might, but purer, far more terrifying.
No... it wasn't dragon's might.
It was divine power.
The ancient serpent didn't waste time processing what had happened. He grabbed the dazed Ana and slipped away from the scene, rushing all the way to the northern wall defenses. Only then did the suffocating pressure in his chest finally begin to fade.
Old man, just what secret did you spill to bring down that much trouble?
Samael leaned in the shadows against a wall, panting heavily, eyes flickering with uncertainty.
He'd assumed the old man was just another "foreigner" caught up in this calamity by coincidence, and that "Ziusudra" was merely a metaphor-laced West Asian name to help blend in.
But now, all signs pointed to something else entirely. He wasn't just some NPC repeating scripted prophecies to passersby.
The old man's knowledge of and connection to Mesopotamia was far too deep. He very well could be the legendary West Asian hero who survived Enlil's great flood.
What's more, Ziusudra had clearly been surprised by Samael's appearance—almost like he'd been waiting for him, a glimmer of anticipation and delight in his reaction.
Fate-defier... fate-defier...
Yeah, no thanks. That sounds like a title that paints a target on your back.
If even you couldn't handle it, what do you expect me to do?
Thoughts tangled, Samael grumbled to himself.
He was starting to realize the Age of Gods ran much deeper than he had imagined.
For the sake of planning and positioning, he took a moment to calm down and reflect on Ziusudra's four cryptic pieces of advice.
But the words were too obscure, and with the thunderstorm and winds that had suddenly torn across the sky earlier, Samael was still a bit shaken. He had no idea what to make of it for now, so he shelved the matter.
Tch, he had just come out to celebrate successfully roping Ishtar into the team with a meal.
Instead, he'd run straight into this headache of a mess.
Samael sighed and shook his head. As dusk fell, he tugged Ana along, ready to buy groceries and head home.
Before they left, though, they stopped by out of obligation to check in on Leonidas, still recovering in the barracks, along with Tim, the East Gate's commander, and the old general Tabbad.
With temple healing magic as the foundation, and more than enough potions from the Sacrificial Grounds and the Astrology Tower, the three pillars of the Northern Wall's defense had already recovered 40 to 50 percent of their strength.
At this rate, they'd be back on their feet in under a week.
They'd been dragged back half-dead, bones shattered. Now, they were already lifting weights and drilling. The Age of the Gods human physique really was the stuff of legends.
Impressed as they were, Samael and Ana were genuinely glad to see their familiar comrades in better shape.
After leaving some flowers and pastries as gifts, the two returned to the embassy just as the sunset painted the sky red.
...
By nightfall, the food was served, and as usual, that damn liar Merlin showed up to freeload.
Given how well he played along earlier that day, Samael decided to let it slide.
But scanning the seats, one very important new arrival was notably absent.
That's right—the Goddess of Heaven, Ishtar, who'd been sweet-talked into joining them.
Don't tell me she's still feeling guilty about that nonsense from earlier?
Samael eyed the empty seat, muttering under his breath, a twinge of guilt creeping in.
Like he'd said, trickery was just a means to an end.
Now that both the money and the person were secured, if Ishtar ended up with some lingering trauma, even his paper-thin conscience would ache a little.
After a brief pause, the ancient serpent picked up a lamp and headed upstairs to Ishtar's room, intending to offer some comfort—and invite her to the team dinner.
But just as he neared the window, he heard a series of sharp, rhythmic thuds and excited feminine cheers coming from inside.
He peeked in through a crack in the shutters.
There she was—Ishtar, who was supposedly "tormented with guilt" over her conscience—spreading gemstones, gold, and silver all over the floor like a squirrel hoarding nuts.
Then, flushed with glee, the great goddess curled up and began rolling gleefully across the piles of treasure.
Now and then, she'd scoop up a handful of gems and toss them into the air, letting the sparkling pieces rain down on her like confetti.
"I'm rich! I'm rich!"
"With this, I can rebuild the temple on Mount Ebih three times over! I can use Gem Magecraft however I want!"
"And after that, I still get a 20% cut of the Babylonian Treasury's ores!"
"Father Anu above, this isn't a dream, is it?"
"I'm so happy..."
"This goddess has decided—I'm sleeping with these tonight!"
Drunk on joy, she buried her head deep into the jewel pile, inhaling deeply, her whole body wrapping around the treasure like an octopus, looking like she genuinely wanted to drown in it.
Outside the window, Samael's guilty conscience instantly darkened into a look blacker than soot.
Comfort her? Comfort my ass!
She's been gone half a day and already turned her room into a dragon's hoard—and is having the time of her life!
Overestimating her sense of shame... I'm a damn fool!
Tch, even giving her 20% was too generous. A woman like that needs to be strung along with carrots—never actually fed.
Samael muttered bitterly to himself and turned to leave the glorified dragon's den.
But just as Ishtar started to regain her senses, the sound of footsteps on the floor snapped the jewel-buried goddess to attention.
"You... you... when did you get here?"
Ishtar shot up in a panic, cracked the door open like a thief, and stared at Samael frozen in the hallway, her voice stammering with shock.
"Not long ago..."
Phew. Behind the door, the goddess patted her chest in relief, heart slowly settling.
"Oh, probably around the time you yelled 'I'm rich' or something like that..."
Samael teased with a smirk, but before he could finish, a hand shot out from the door, grabbed his collar, and yanked him into the room with lightning speed.
Bang!
The ancient serpent was slammed to the floor. The impact sent dozens of gems flying into the air as gold coins scattered everywhere with a loud clatter.
In the dim room, two tangled figures writhed against each other.
"You... you heard all of it?!"
Ishtar pointed at the suspect's nose, her voice fierce but clearly shaken, her face burning with embarrassment.
"And you saw it too, didn't you?"
"Of course you did!"
"Ahhh! How humiliating!"
The goddess, too overwhelmed to wait for a response, spiraled into a meltdown. Her hands tugged at her long black hair, her cheeks flushed bright red.
Since when do you care this much about dignity or modesty?
Samael groaned inwardly, watching Ishtar thrash like a child—stuffing her own hair into her mouth, face twisted in panic and shame.
She clutched her head, rocking back and forth like a child in meltdown.
Samael winced and hissed. His face had gone pale.
Idiot! Get off me first!
When she yanked him into the room, Ishtar had pinned him down by plopping right onto his stomach.
And considering Uruk's desert climate—and the goddess's Sumerian dress, which was closer to a swimsuit than a robe—their stacked position, paired with her frantic movements, was like grinding a match over a lit fuse.
As the goddess twisted and rocked, Samael's body tensed in agony. Finally, the warrior's silent cries seemed to reach her ears, and she froze, muttering like she'd lost her mind.
"You saw it, didn't you? You saw everything!"
Yes! Yes! I saw you act like a lunatic, happy now?
I just came up here to invite you to dinner—and now I'm getting interrogated like a war criminal. What cosmic sin did I commit?
Tears welled in Samael's eyes. He could only nod in defeat, praying she'd spare the rest of his body.
Judging by what happened last time on Mount Ebih, if this goddess started thrashing again, it wouldn't just be his waist breaking—but his legs too.
Or worse... his third leg.
"This is unforgivable... so humiliating..."
The second he nodded, Ishtar slumped, muttering darkly as her hair cascaded down her face like a curtain.
"W-What are you doing?! We're allies! Allies, remember?!"
Samael stiffened, his neck locking in place. He swallowed hard.
"Relax..."
Ishtar looked up and gave him a gentle smile, her tone soft and reassuring.
Then the air turned cold.
A sinister aura spread through the room as the great goddess lifted her palm. A Magecraft array materialized midair, and from within it, she drew out a menacing scepter.
Seven silver serpents coiled tightly around its head. The shaft gleamed with an icy sheen.
It wasn't so much a scepter as it was a terrifying war hammer.
The Seven-Headed War Hammer—Ishtar's symbolic weapon as the Goddess of War. Though mostly left to gather dust in storage, its presence alone was terrifying.
"Oh, right! Merlin and Ana are waiting for me downstairs. We'll talk later!"
Samael forced a strained smile as he desperately wriggled backward, his hands digging trenches through the gem-covered floor.
"It's fine, seriously! No big deal!"
"Be strong. I'm just helping you erase a few memories you shouldn't have."
Ishtar smiled sweetly as she grabbed Samael's leg and began dragging him deeper into the room.
Be strong, your ass! You're using that monstrosity to erase memories?! Are you serious?!
One hit from that thing and it's not just my memory that'll be gone—my whole skull will be mush!
Samael's face darkened as he cursed furiously in silence.
The battle hasn't even started, and you're already turning on your teammates?
Seeing himself being hauled toward a secluded corner of doom, Samael panicked and threw up his hands.
"Wait wait wait! I didn't see anything, I swear! I don't know a damn thing!"
"I already forgot everything that just happened!"
"Really?"
"As real as your mountain of jewels! Gods, I'm just some poor bystander! Who the hell would spy on your weird treasure kink?!"
"You'll keep it secret?"
"I have goldfish memory! The second I walk out that door, it's gone!"
After much pleading, Ishtar finally began to calm down.
Seeing how "cooperative" Samael was, the goddess hesitated, then reluctantly decided to let him off the hook—without resorting to memory erasure.
However, just as Ishtar straightened up, an itch crept into her nose.
She sneezed—hard.
And in that split-second twitch, her hand jerked.
The seven-headed war hammer slipped from her grip... and came crashing down with a shrill whistle.
Right between Samael's legs.
Ishtar! You son of a—!
Still being held by the leg and unable to escape, Samael broke out in a cold sweat. His face turned as green as his name.