The sky bled. Crimson clouds stretched across the horizon, fractured by jagged cracks that glimmered with an unnatural light. The moon hung above, no longer pale but stained red, watching the battlefield in silence.
The ground was littered with the bodies of gods. Broken weapons lay scattered, their divine glow extinguished. Armor that once shone with power now rested in shattered pieces. Immortal beings who had ruled realms now lay still, their reigns ended.
No movement. No breath– Only the wind carried the scent of ash and iron.
"This is your last chance." The voice cut through the ruins. Cold and Unyielding. It carried authority, not of a king, but of something far greater.
Atop the pile of fallen gods sat a silhouette wrapped in a black miasma. The darkness clung to him, shifting like smoke. His gaze pierced the air, locking onto the wounded figure below.
"Bow down," the silhouette said. "Become my underling, and I will grant you a second chance."
Silence followed. The young king lay among the wreckage, blood staining the earth. His golden diadem remained upon his brow, cracked but still radiant– a symbol of authority.
He tilted his head, ever so slightly
His expression was unreadable
The silhouette narrowed his eyes. "King of Uruk. Gilgamesh."
This was Gilgamesh– the legendary ruler of Uruk.
Gilgamesh smirked. It was small, sharp, and defiant. "Arrogant fool" he said, small and subtle
His hand rose.
Chains erupted from the air, glowing with radiant energy. They moved like living things, racing forward at impossible speed.
"Chains of Heaven!"
The chains struck.
Shockwaves tore through the battlefield. The air screamed as space itself seemed to distort. Stones cracked. Dust scattered. For a brief moment, it felt as if reality might shatter.
Then the chains stopped.
Not because they had reached their target.
Not because something resisted them.
They simply lost their power.
The radiant glow faded.
Link by link, the chains darkened, becoming lifeless metal. They hung in the air for a moment before collapsing to the ground.
No explosion.
No spectacle.
Just silence.
Gilgamesh's smirk vanished.
His eyes widened slightly.
Impossible.
The silhouette straightened. The black miasma around him shifted, rippling like smoke. The air screamed in terror, a warning sign directed at Gilgamesh
He extended a single hand, the chains froze mid-fall.
As if bound by an invisible force, gripping and ripping them apart– the air grew heavier.
A pressure descended upon the battlefield, subtle at first. The corpses of various rankers and gods shifted as though remembering they once breathed. Dust stirred. The ruins groaned In despair
Gilgamesh's expression darkened.
"So this is your answer" the silhouette said.
His voice carried no anger.
No surprise.
Only acknowledgment.
Gilgamesh clenched his teeth.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.
The word was quiet, but filled with frustration.
He stared at the silhouette.
Deep down, he understood.
This was no ordinary enemy.
He had fought gods before.
He had slain monsters that defied comprehension.
He had ruled a kingdom that touched the heavens.
Yet this being, this entity– was of entirely different species.
The chains was no mere ordinary, it was a legendary weapon crafted to counter Gods. Weapons of Terror, yet. They had become nothing.
The silhouette stepped forward.
His movement was unhurried, measured.
As though the battlefield itself bowed to his presence.
Gilgamesh's hand tightened into a fist.
"Impossible."
The word escaped his mouth
The silhouette tilted his head.
"You misunderstund" he replied.
Gilgamesh's jaw clenched, his eyes crazed in anger
"Do I!?"
The air crackled.
A ripple spread outward, distorting the space. Gilgamesh's gaze flickered.
He felt it.
A presence, as though it hadn't existed while having existed. A vague unsettling feeling, creeping through his existence
Like the weight of the heavens pressing down.
His smirk returned– but it was strained, no matter what. He won't bow, his pride won't allow it
"You think I will bow?"
The silhouette remained silent, devoid of any response
Gilgamesh's eyes burned with defiance.
"I am the King of Uruk," he said. "I bow to no one. Not even in the face of Heavens!"
The words were not boastful.
They were truth.
A declaration.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Crimson lightning flickered across the sky.
The cracks in the horizon widened. The ground rumbled in anger
For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then the silhouette spoke.
"So be it." His hand moved, in pure silence– in a slow constant motion.
Gilgamesh's chains shattered, it's fragments scattered into the air.
Gilgamesh staggered.
His diadem trembled.
His smirk vanished.
"What?"
His voice cracked.
The pressure in the air intensified.
It was no longer subtle.
It pressed down, overwhelming– ike an ocean of invisible force.
Gilgamesh's knees buckled slightly.
He straightened immediately.
Pride allowed nothing else.
But his eyes betrayed him.
A flicker of uncertainty.
A crack in his composure.
The silhouette stepped closer.
His shadow stretched across the battlefield.
Gilgamesh's breath hitched.
Deep in his thoughts, one word surfaced.
Traitors.
The memory burned.
Those who had whispered promises.
Those who had offered alliances.
Those who had claimed loyalty– only to disappear when the battle turned.
His teeth ground together.
"To think I trusted them."
The thought was bitter.
He had believed in strength.
In conquest.
In the idea that power could shape the world.
Now everything was in question.
The silhouette's gaze remained steady.
"You fight for pride," he said.
Gilgamesh's eyes flashed.
"And you fight for conquest"
The response came instantly.
The silhouette smiled.
Not mockingly.
Not cruelly.
But as though recognizing something familiar.
Gilgamesh swallowed.
He wanted to summon something– anything– to fight back.
But there was nothing.
No chains.
No divine weapons.
No overwhelming force.
His mana was drained,there's only him.
And the being before him.
The battlefield remained as silent as ever, intensifying the gloom.
Gilgamesh thought of the past.
"Zeus."
The name surfaced.
Zeus, The god of sky and thunder, king of gods and supreme ruler of Olympus.
A being of immense power.
Gilgamesh's jaw tightened.
"If I fall here."
The thought lingered.
"If I die."
He exhaled slowly.
No.
He refused.
He would not bow.
He would not kneel.
Even if defeat awaited.
Even if the odds were impossible.
The King of Uruk would stand.
The silhouette extended a hand.
"Last chance."
Gilgamesh looked at it.
The offer remained.
Submission.
Survival.
A second chance.
His eyes hardened.
"No."
The word was final.
The silhouette lowered his hand.
"So be it."
Gilgamesh straightened his diadem.
Blood dripped from his wounds.
His smirk returned– small, but defiant.
"I will escape the Underworld."
The realm he spoke of was Underworld, the domain of the dead.
His voice remained steady.
"I will return." His eyes Returned it's usual vigor, filled with intense crazed smile
The silhouette watched.
Gilgamesh's gaze locked with his.
Only the king who refused to kneel.
And the force that sought to break him.
"You have my respect, you're different from those cowards. If you have been given more time and opportunity, then if it's you. I'm sure of it..." His voice fell, as he disappeared from his position.
Gilgamesh's eyes widened in surprised 'Fast!' his thoughts were cut a short, his eyes fell downward. A fist tore through his chest, it's hand held his heart.
His eye's slowly lost it's color, the world turned hazy.
The figure tightened it's grip, squashing the heart into pieces, his eyes moved as he pulled his arm. "Then you would've had grown far more of a threat–"
...