The atmosphere fell silent again. As Ana lowered her head, torn with hesitation, Samael walked over, bent down, and placed his hand gently on her head, stroking softly.
That gentle warmth slowly dispelled the unease in the girl's heart. She lifted her gaze, eyes burning as she looked at him.
"Samael, you won't lie to me, right?"
"I promise!"
The ancient serpent firmly extended his little finger, smiling as he hooked it with Ana's delicate hand, giving it a gentle shake.
"Okay. I'll wait for you. You have to come!"
Relief lit up the girl's face, her smile blooming like a flower. She suddenly threw her arms around his neck, lowered her head without warning, and planted a kiss on Samael's cheek.
Blushing furiously from her sneak attack, she darted away, waving goodbye to everyone one by one. Her form slowly turned into golden motes of light, scattering into the air as she waved with tears in her eyes.
In the crowd near the city gates, the old man Ziusudra watched Ana's departure and gave a small nod.
In the end, the goddess had heeded his advice.
To run away would mean abandoning choice, a path that would only lead to the most tragic of ends. (See Chapter 71 for the three prophecies concerning Ana.)
Thus, returning to the place of origin and bringing about a turning point was the only road that could avert tragedy.
Besides, the future had already changed.
There was still hope. Still a chance...
The old man's gaze lingered on the figure standing beneath the city gates, his expression deep and knowing.
...
Noon, at the embassy.
Samael glanced back at Ishtar, who was inside playing with the calf of Gugalanna. Smiling faintly, he shook his head and pulled a purple scale from his robes, staring at it in thought.
It was the gift Ana had left him, meant to open a certain place.
By his calculations, half a month would be enough.
So...
The ancient serpent stood by the railing, looking down over the young city that had begun to stir with life, his eyes distant.
The city thrived. Scholars debated the astronomical knowledge drawn from the Mayan calendar. Priests and magi worked together, experimenting with the fusion of different temple systems, Magecraft, and divine words.
Meanwhile, the farmers sweated under the sun, happily tending wheat and other crops across the fertile plains to the north and south.
As the saying goes: "Blessing rests upon misfortune, and misfortune hides within blessing."
The war between Apsu, the Father of Creation, and Tiamat, the Mother of Origin, was not entirely a curse upon humanity's survivors.
On one hand, it had pushed the Sumerian city-states toward unity, giving rise to a brighter flower of civilization. Humanity shifted from depending on divine protection to seeking its own strength, refining the system of Magecraft and accelerating the transformation of the world of Mystery.
By dissecting Mystery and binding it to daily life, human productivity advanced greatly.
On the other hand, the flooding of the twin rivers left behind fertile silt, driving crop yields to new heights.
As for the black tides, after being washed away by the flood and repaired through the Mother Goddess's power, Mesopotamia's ecology brimmed with creative force.
Fertile lands stretched far and wide, fruits and crops growing in lush abundance. So long as one was willing to work the soil, filling one's belly was effortless.
With his knowledge of history, Samael understood well that if peace and stability could be preserved, Mesopotamia's population would surge, ushering in a new era of prosperity.
There is ruin and there is renewal. Without death, there can be no life...
Was that truly all?
Perhaps this was the meaning hidden in Ziusudra's final words.
"Samael, come quickly to the Underworld! Something's happened—something big!"
Just as the ancient serpent was lost in thought, Ereshkigal's urgent cry echoed from the rising Underworld Mirror.
The moment they received the message, everyone's expressions shifted, and they hurried straight toward the Underworld.
...
A short while later, in the valley beneath the seven gates of the Underworld, Gilgamesh's face darkened as he crossed his arms.
"You called us here... for this?"
"Of course!"
Ereshkigal nodded firmly, scooping up a handful of soil and carefully revealing the green sprout within as though it were a precious treasure.
"Plants are growing in the Underworld! Isn't that a huge deal?"
During the Battle of Uruk, Apsu had torn open the earth, plunging the Underworld completely into the black tide. To protect the people, Ereshkigal had been forced to abandon her domain and rush to Uruk's aid.
In that chaos, the flower seeds Samael had given her had been left behind in the Underworld, swept away into the valley.
No one had expected that once everything settled, those very seeds would sprout tender green shoots in a land long shrouded by death.
It was nothing short of a miracle of life. For Ereshkigal, who cherished all life, it was a matter of the utmost importance. No wonder her summons to the others had carried such urgency.
Enkidu knelt slightly, pressing his palm against the valley floor. Rings of green light rippled outward, spreading into the distance.
Moments later, the divine doll born of earth lifted his head, a trace of nostalgia and sorrow in his gaze.
"It's Mother..."
"Her power of origin has altered part of the Underworld's environment, granting it new life."
"Still, the Underworld is the domain of spirits. The power of death will inevitably outweigh that of life. In time—perhaps decades—this vitality will fade away."
Samael's lips tightened as a sigh escaped him.
He remembered, half in jest, telling the Mother Goddess more than once that he had promised Ereshkigal to make flowers bloom in the Underworld.
Who would have thought she had taken those careless words to heart—and before departing, had not forgotten to grant this realm of death a spark of new life?
Beside him, Ereshkigal listened to Enkidu's words, her eyes dimming slightly.
Decades... so that's all...
"Hey, why the long faces? Just divide the Underworld into layers, right?"
"Like building a house—use the authority of the earth to set up barriers. That way life and death won't interfere with each other, and each can exist on its own."
Ishtar scratched her head and spoke offhandedly, glancing around.
At once, the air froze.
Everyone turned to stare at the great goddess with strange looks, prickling her skin with goosebumps. She shrank her neck, crossed her arms, and gave a weak laugh.
"Uh... I was just talking. If it's wrong, it's not my fault, right?"
"No! That's actually a huge help—that's an excellent idea!"
Samael snapped out of his daze, clapping Ishtar's shoulder with approval shining in his eyes.
"Really?"
Startled, Ishtar looked around nervously.
"Yes, it's a very good solution!"
Siduri nodded at once, and Enkidu also inclined his head in agreement.
"That's right. My Underworld might truly gain a sea of flowers."
Ereshkigal reached out and clasped Ishtar's hands tightly in gratitude.
Meanwhile, Gilgamesh circled his long-time rival, his eyes filled with uncharacteristic surprise.
"Who would have thought... a woman like you, who usually only causes trouble, could actually have such talent."
After years of jabs and mockery, it was the first time Ishtar had received such collective praise. Dazed, she felt as if she were walking on clouds, her body light and unsteady.
"I'm... that amazing?"
Her eyes suddenly narrowed.
"Wait—Gilgamesh! What do you mean I 'only cause trouble'?! Say it clearly! This goddess is the savior of Uruk!"
Realizing the barb hidden in his words, Ishtar's expression darkened. Hands on her hips, she turned on him furiously.
The strange, heavy air that had hung over the group just moments ago broke instantly into lively clamor once more.