In the Divine Tower of the royal palace, Samael stared at the three overflowing baskets of clay tablets and at Siduri, who stood ready below to begin reading them aloud. His face darkened slightly at the sight.
Fortunately, the Soul Cage at his side gave a gentle shake, and Shamhat's voice echoed softly in his ear, dispelling the unease in his heart.
"Go ahead. If you and Siduri come across something neither of you can decide on, I'll handle it."
"If this backlog keeps growing, Uruk won't hold together for long. And with the three-day journey ahead, this child won't last under the pressure."
"So even if it's just for my sake, help ease her burden."
With support from the sacred courtesan herself, Samael felt a bit more reassured. He raised his hand to signal Siduri to proceed. Together, they began systematically working through the mountain of urgent tasks.
By late afternoon, the two of them had finally dealt with most of the difficult affairs. The scattered leftovers were left to Siduri to finish at her discretion.
Now that there was a moment to breathe, Samael's eyes flickered thoughtfully. He turned toward Siduri and spoke.
"Head Priestess, I need everything you have on Eridu—every record, as detailed as possible."
"Understood. I'll make the arrangements right away."
Siduri nodded without hesitation and summoned her trusted aides from the Sacrificial Grounds. They began transporting all the clay tablets related to Eridu from the archives to the Divine Tower in batches.
With no pressing tasks needing his attention, the Head Priestess thoughtfully prepared a quiet room for the shepherd priest to study in peace.
So the two guardians of the Divine Tower once again returned to their work.
As for the earlier promise of support from the Incubus—there hadn't been even a trace of it. Naturally, the ancient serpent made a firm mental note of that.
...
Inside the secluded chamber, Samael flipped through one tablet after another detailing Eridu's origin, its rise, decline, local customs, and ancient legends. His expression calm, he carefully transcribed any useful findings onto several blank tablets.
Time slipped by like sand through fingers. When he finally looked up, the sun was already halfway below the horizon.
From the pile, he pulled out a particularly old clay tablet. His gaze lingered long on a hazy inscription, brows slowly knitting tighter and tighter.
As the last light of the sun was gradually swallowed by night, the figure standing alone in the chamber stretched with the fading glow—until he was consumed by shadow.
Samael raised his right hand and brushed over the tablets where he had recorded his notes.
All but the final one—etched with a strange structural diagram—crumbled instantly into dust and scattered.
He tucked the remaining tablet into his robes, picked up the Soul Cage from the table, drew his hood over his head, and stepped out into the night.
...
Silently, he moved through Uruk's darkened alleys and sleeping streets, sweeping away the faint traces of lingering death energy with each step.
But his brow remained furrowed, his thoughts adrift. Even the act of cleansing felt absent, mechanical.
Above, low clouds hung oppressively in the sky. Distant thunder murmured through the air as fine rain fell in drifting sheets, its chill creeping into bones.
The stalls were all shuttered, and the townsfolk had already retreated indoors for the rainy night.
With the roads mostly clear, Samael had finished sweeping the city before midnight. His task was done.
But as he made his way back toward the embassy to rest, he found himself pausing outside a narrow alley, his steps slowing.
A strange familiarity stirred in him—memories surfacing—until he realized this was the alley where Ana had once shared flatbread with an old man.
As if guided by instinct, Samael stepped into the dark alley, feeling an odd sense of apprehension.
When he reached the end and saw the wall sealed tight with bricks, the flicker of anticipation inside him faded into disappointment.
Looks like I was just imagining things. What are the odds...
With a quiet sigh, he shook his head and turned to leave.
Suddenly, a sharp crack of thunder tore across the sky—and in that brief flash of lightning, he saw it.
A tall figure, cloaked and motionless, standing in the rain.
"You who defied fate… are you seeking me?"
Startled by the unexpected touch on his back, Samael's breath caught. The hairs on his neck bristled as his heart felt grasped by an unseen hand.
"Ziusudra?"
In the tense silence that followed, the figure before him nodded slowly. A few steps closer, the hood fell back, revealing a weathered face crowned with wild hair and beard.
"If you can—I'd like to ask a favor."
Samael exhaled, locking eyes with the legendary hero of West Asia. His voice carried quiet gravity.
"Rest assured—it's what you do best."
"You guessed it?"
Ziusudra lifted his eyelids, revealing a gleam deep and piercing.
"The waters divide high and low, giving birth and death each its domain… So that's how it is…"
A mocking smile curled on Samael's lips as he watched the rain tapping against the night sky. A flicker of disdain passed through his eyes. After a moment's release of built-up tension, he produced the clay tablet from his robes and handed it over.
Ziusudra received it with calm composure, scanning the structural diagram. His expression didn't waver.
"I can do it. But I'll need people."
"No problem. Build it for me—and you can ask for anything!"
The weight pressing on Samael's chest eased as he nodded firmly. Despite the headaches that came with the shepherd priest role, it carried real authority.
With his accomplishments backing him—including Siduri's promise of control over resources and manpower—he was positioned to act. Of course, the northern wall defenses would remain untouched.
Ziusudra's workforce would come from the group he had rescued at Eridu. It was the perfect match.
Under steady rain, the two parted ways without further words, each slipping back into the night's darkness.
...
The next morning, they gathered one by one at the south gate, ready for departure.
Samael spotted Quetzalcoatl in the distance, chatting and laughing with a soldier guarding the city, who was coughing endlessly. After their chat, Quetzalcoatl handed the soldier a large, golden-brown mango from the jungle.
Following a final reminder to enjoy it, the Sumerian-clad feathered serpent approached Samael with a welcoming embrace.
At the sight of the two, Samael's memory flickered back to the suffocating hell he'd endured. He stepped aside, pointing at the soldier to distract Quetzalcoatl.
"It seems you've come to care for Sumer's humans."
Quetzalcoatl smiled warmly, though amusement danced in her eyes. "They've endured three storms. A child like that deserves divine favor."
"Too bad I'm too late—this was the last one."
"I'm glad I can skip it," Samael replied with a shrug, and a knowing look passed between them.
The mango held no healing magic, but Quetzalcoatl's divine touch infused it with power to purge the soldier's lingering death energy.
At that moment, Merlin arrived from the Astrology Tower, weariness visible on him—an uncommon sight, especially with the still-strong scents of magecraft and herbs clinging to him.
Ishtar, who hadn't been seen overnight, had spent most of the day at the northern wall—a first. The smell of blood on her clothes and the few brown-yellow strands in her hair hinted she'd spent the night hunting Magical Beasts.
By noon, Ana arrived last, carrying a tall, rattling pack and wearing a gorgeous floral wreath.
Inside her bag tumbled snacks and sweets from neighbors, along with potions and crystal stones she'd purchased.
As Samael gazed back at rain-soaked Uruk, he was moved beyond words.
These tiny humans—so full of spirit and resilience—had stirred and absorbed even the lofty Divine Spirits.
Ready at last, with all present, the party mounted their Quetzalcoatlus and prepared for Kutha. Quetzalcoatl and Jaguar Warrior, both in the know, bid them farewell.
Far away, in the Divine Tower, Head Priestess Siduri placed her hands over her heart and prayed silently toward the city gates.
Lone on the table behind her, the Soul Cage glowed with a blue flame—the legacy of its former owner.