Cilician Marshes, a cavern deep underground.
"Boom!"
A heavy crash echoed through the cave, making the magic crystals embedded in the walls flicker unsteadily as their light wavered.
At the source of the noise, Samael was slammed into the rock in the shape of a giant cross, plastered into the stone like a broken mural before he finally pried himself free.
"Cough… cough…"
He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and glared resentfully at the shadowy figure ahead.
"Tina… next time you charge at me, don't hit so hard. You'll kill someone like that, you know?"
The figure lurking in the darkness shifted, clearly worried when she saw Samael injured. She instinctively wanted to rush forward and help him.
But with every step she took, the ground trembled, her footprints sank inches deep, and the swaying emerald-green tendrils that extended from her back sliced the air with a cold, dangerous gleam.
"Stop! Don't come any closer!"
Samael's face went pale as he hastily raised a hand.
His ribs were still cracked and healing. If she barreled into him again, he'd be flat on his back coughing up blood in seconds.
"Aa? Aa…"
Under the steadied glow of the crystals, a pretty but confused face turned toward him, red cross-shaped pupils blinking innocently.
A soft, plaintive syllable slipped past her cherry lips, tinged with loss and bewilderment. Her long green hair cascaded down her shoulders, and she stood there quietly, like a goddess in perfect rhythm with the earth itself.
Samael spat out another mouthful of clotted blood, feeling his chest ease a little. He let out a long breath and slowly stepped closer, reaching up to stroke her smooth, silken hair.
"Good girl…"
"If you want to play a game next time, warn me first. I can't handle surprises like that unprepared."
He sighed as he scolded her, while those pure, cross-shaped eyes blinked back at him in wide-eyed innocence.
She tilted her head against his hand in a gentle nudge, like a pet basking in its master's affection. In an instant, the fragile bit of dignity Samael had been trying to maintain crumbled completely.
Yes—this was the divine vessel he had painstakingly created for the Mother Goddess Tiamat.
After the war with Ea, Samael had used his remaining authority as the Mother of Genesis to repair and activate the large-scale ritual of the Blood Temple with Ana's help.
During that process, he had obtained the blood and divinity of Ereshkigal, Goddess of the Underworld, and Ishtar, Goddess of Heaven. He poured them into a Holy Grail that still carried fragments of the Mother Goddess's Spirit Origin.
Afterward, he gathered surviving god-statues, large and small—objects imbued with faith, worship, and longing—and used them to attune and connect with the beastly presence of the Mother Goddess lingering in the Sea of Imaginary Numbers.
Piece by piece, all the necessary elements came together. After countless attempts and months of work, he finally created a humanoid vessel that would allow Tiamat to walk freely in the world.
That vessel, originally wrapped in a cocoon, came dangerously close to the beastly form of Tiamat herself—the one tethered to Noah's Ark—while crossing through the Sea of Imaginary Numbers of Ether and Chaos.
Because of their resonance and mutual response, the cocoon cracked early, and the divine vessel emerged in the Mediterranean before even reaching the Greek World.
Samael had intended a quiet landing, but this sudden awakening forced him to cover up the anomalies aboard Noah's Ark, lest the Greek gods catch wind of it.
In the end, he sacrificed the ship's functions to keep it hidden, but managed to land without incident, aided soon after by the Naiad Daphne, who helped him find shelter.
And so, he quietly brought the waiting Mother Goddess Tiamat from the Ark and concealed her deep within the cavern.
"Aaa…"
Beneath the bright crystal glow, the divine vessel leaned forward, lying on the ground, carefully nudging at a fragrant sprig in a flower pot. She circled it again and again, absorbed like a child discovering the world for the first time.
Samael, seated in a chair, watched her with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He reached for a clay tablet on the shelf behind him, picked up a chisel, and tapped it lightly in thought.
Lost in thought, Samael's gaze grew grave and solemn.
For all his careful preparations, he had still underestimated just how dangerous this voyage would be.
In the Sea of Imaginary Numbers, time itself was chaotic and space distorted beyond recognition. Even with Ana's scales guiding him, he could not anchor his arrival to a precise point within the Greek World.
And so, he had drifted straight into the most dangerous, most flourishing era of all—the Golden Age of the Titans.
Kronos, king of the second generation gods, stood at the height of his power. The Twelve Titans held dominion, shaping the world, their countless descendants spread across the land. The majesty of Mount Othrys loomed everywhere.
The dangers of such a world went without saying.
Fortunately, he held something in his hand—something more than enough to conceal himself and ward off prying eyes.
He raised his hand slightly. A golden radiance flowed between his fingers, runes crowding the air. And within them, faintly, appeared two names: "Samael" and "Tina."
The Tablet of Destinies. The divine authority of fate itself.
Though he possessed only a third of it, this was still a treasure born of a world's very foundation—so much so that even the Mother Goddess Tiamat regarded it with dread.
With this, he could carve new names into the weave of the Greek World and cloak his true self. More than enough to complete his passage in secret.
Those who alter destiny, in turn, become part of it.
Isn't that right… His Majesty Yahweh, King of Kings?
A glimmer of cold light flickered in Samael's eyes. His expression was a strange mix of wry amusement and heaviness.
Ever since Apsu's seven days of destruction, and Marduk's proclamation as King of Kings and God of Gods, he had begun to suspect.
And after the war—when the Seven Purgatories, the Nine Hells, and Paradise Lost were all established, and even the First Hassan's attitude made it plain—he was almost certain now.
He really had become that serpent.
Which meant that Marduk was none other than the god who drew all things back into one.
Looking at how history unfolded, that much was undeniable. He had succeeded. He became the greatest religious figure the world had ever known.
The polytheistic pantheons—Greek, Egyptian, Norse—all bloomed for a time, then withered into dust.
But this god's hold on humanity sank deep, immovable from beginning to end.
One only had to look at the numbers to grasp the scale of it.
By the year 2000, broad Christianity—including Catholicism, Protestantism, and Orthodoxy—counted 1.965 billion followers, 33.15% of the world's population.
Islam, born of the same root, numbered 1.179 billion, 19.89% of the global population. Add to that the remnants of ancient Judaism...
Over three billion believers in total.
More than half of all humanity would be Marduk's flock. The world itself his pasture, mankind his lambs.
He was a terrifying opponent, there was no denying it.
Even by Tiamat's reckoning, without the Tablet of Destinies, she—the Mother of Genesis who had broken the boundary between heaven and earth to unite divinity and bestiality—would stand only a forty-percent chance against him, the Father of Genesis who had perfected the integration of divinity.
A meager four in ten.
To free the Mother Goddess from the void of chaos would be a road long and twisted.
But no matter how far the road stretched, he would keep walking.
There would be a chance. Yes… the chance would come.
Samael's hand brushed gently over the head of the divine vessel he had named "Tina," his eyes shining with quiet resolve.