In the heavy, oppressive air, Marduk swept his gaze over the defeated figures sprawled on the ground and let a savage grin curl across his lips.
The King of Kings radiated arrogant satisfaction. After a brief pause, he stepped forward at an unhurried pace. With each step, it felt as though he were treading on everyone's hearts, crushing them beneath a suffocating, prison-like pressure.
"Aaaaa!!!"
Tiamat, the Mother of Origins—still locked in a deadlock against the Genesis Power—looked at the unmoving Samael beside her and let out a piercing cry. The ground split open, and the gray-white barrier rapidly expanded, forcing the golden light to retreat, inch by inch.
"A dying struggle!"
Marduk clutched the Tablet of Destinies tighter, veins bulging across his forehead as the light-mist around him swayed and rippled.
"The goddess, the Heroic Spirits, the royal authority—all have fallen! You, beast of disaster, will meet your destined end once more and serve as the final stepping stone for the new god's ascent!"
Buzz!
The fingers gripping the Tablet of Destinies turned white. From the heavens, thousands of golden streams poured down like a waterfall, pressing with full force against the expanding barrier of Nega-Genesis.
The Mother of Origins struggled several times, but as golden-red patterns flared across her scales and wings, she was forced down again, unable to break free.
Marduk's eyes burned with ferocity, his face twisted.
"Nothing can change the outcome I have written! Die obediently! In this world, glory, majesty, power, authority, and strength—all bow beneath my feet, from time immemorial to the present, and onward… for all eternity! This is the Mandate of Heaven!"
Just as the golden giant hand reached for the haft of his axe, a javelin whipped past the King of Kings' cheek, scattering a spray of golden fragments into the wind.
It was small, soft, and pitifully weak—yet it left the only mark upon that mighty form.
Marduk turned in disbelief toward the corner he had never once noticed.
Bang! Bang bang!
The one-armed General Tim slammed the butt of his spear rhythmically against the ground, veins standing out along his neck as he threw back his head and roared.
"My brothers and sisters—my kin—are you all dead? Uruk will endure forever!"
Bang! Bang bang!
Bang! Bang bang!
Bang! Bang bang!
From every direction came the echoing roar and the heavy, rhythmic pounding. Soldiers with shields and spears were the first to rally behind General Tim.
Then, guided by an instinct engraved into their bones, magi, priestesses, and priests stepped forward at the call. Even figures both young and old, large and small, clutched statues of the gods to their chests, joining hands and advancing in solemn stride.
The one-armed general tightened his grip, suppressing the tremor in his muscles. He slammed the spear into the ground, sending a wave of solemn resolve through those around him.
"To protect humanity and open a new era, the goddess has bent her form, the Heroic Spirits have fought to their last breath, and even our king has cast aside the Mandate of Heaven! But this is our world—this is the land of humankind!
Now that we have broken free of fate, the true battle to bid farewell to the gods has only just begun!
The powers that once shielded us have fallen… This time, it is humanity's turn to stand in their place!"
With a roar that climbed into hysteria, Tim's expression twisted as he raised his spear high.
"Where are those who will die with me?!"
"Roar!"
"Roar!"
"Roar!"
The answering cries, at first quivering, grew louder and steadier until they merged into a great, rolling wave of sound that surged toward the heavens.
"Form up! Charge!"
The one-armed general sprinted forward, hurling his spear toward the god towering above.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
In an instant, a flood of mortal bodies surged forward, each casting their own spear.
Marduk raised his right arm. The blades hurled with all the strength of humankind only scraped his forearm, shaving away faint trails of golden dust.
But the insult—the provocation—drove the King of Kings, who had never regarded mortals as more than livestock, into a rage.
"Sinners! You dare—!"
Divine wrath called the storm; thunder and lightning danced in a frenzied cross across the sky.
"All those still breathing—get up! Witches, lay down suppression curses! Priests, layer dispelling rites! Magi, raise every defense you can!"
Shamhat, her soul burning, forced her form together. Abandoning any pretense of ladylike grace, she kicked and shoved at the pale-faced spellcasters reeling from splitting headaches.
"Sinners? Gugalanna's rampage! The Third Storm! The Seven Days of Disaster! How many of us have died—because of you! Do you think humanity made it through hardship thanks to the mercy of the gods?
If humankind is born in sin, then let us raise the banner of rebellion! An eye for an eye! Blood for blood!"
Blue flames surged violently around Shamhat, her face twisted with hatred, her gaze burning with pure malice.
Smack!
A little girl, clutching a small god-statue in one hand, bent to pick up a pebble from the ground. She ran forward, tears brimming in her eyes, and hurled it at the golden Divine Spirit.
"Give me back my father! You monster!"
Her cry of grief lit the smoldering sorrow and rage into a wildfire.
"What did my son do wrong?!"
"My daughter is still so young!"
The humans—so small and frail before the Divine Spirit—had eyes red with fury. They glanced at the empty spaces beside them, felt the stabbing ache in their chests, and hurled stones, shards of clay, and fruit pits at the towering oppressor, surging forward with the charging warriors.
Some had lost husbands. Some had lost children. Some had been driven from their homes. Some had been torn from wives and daughters…
The raging flood had not washed away the sins of the earth, but rather all the beauty humankind once cherished.
Gilgamesh, watching the crowd surge past him into battle, covered half his face, cast a mocking look toward Marduk, and burst into wild laughter.
"You mongrel! You should never have let a lion lead a flock of sheep!"
"Because I taught them to resist!"
The King of Kings' face darkened with fury. Curling his right hand upward, he sought to drive the thunderstorm's power—slightly restrained by the dispel and suppression spells in the air—to its absolute peak.
"Ants!"
"Die! All of you, die!"
Just as the sky filled with lightning and divine wrath was about to descend like a prison's judgment, a hunched old man in a black cloak, carried forward by the press of the crowd, suddenly burst from the side and appeared right in front of Marduk.
Buzz!
A strange vibration, like the tolling of a bell, rang in all directions. The few remaining threads of fate instantly became visible.
"Listen. The evening bell has tolled thy name. The feathers foreshadow your death, and behead━ Azrael: The Angel That Announces Death!"
At the sharp and merciless proclamation, a blinding arc of light burst from the old man's sleeve. The blade slipped between the threads of fate and, with a single stroke, severed the right arm that commanded the thunder.
In the same motion, the pitch-black short sword thrust toward the King of Kings' brow, the chill of death spreading outward.
"Ah! Ziusudra! You dare betray me?!"
Marduk's face twisted in shock. Instinctively, he raised the Tablet of Destinies, intending to summon the divine flames to shield himself.
"Flames of Destiny—"
"Ah! What is that?!"
Before he could finish, a sharp pain shot through his left hand.