Noticing the priest's fearful gaze, she couldn't help but smirk.
Hmm?
An odd sensation suddenly made Gilgamesh frown, as if someone were watching him.
This scrutiny didn't feel malicious, yet it left him distinctly unsettled.
Spying on him?
Narrowing his eyes slightly, he scanned the now-clearing battlefield. Who could be observing him?
Someone was indeed watching him. Some of the soldiers transporting corpses couldn't resist stealing glances at him, only to immediately lower their heads and tremble when his gaze swept over them.
They feared him, terrified he might suddenly curse them to death.
Fear was an excellent means of control.
No—terror. Terror was a far more effective tool for domination.
After scanning his surroundings, he found nothing amiss, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that those eyes were still fixed on him.
As if the observer stood boldly before him, staring openly—yet he couldn't see them at all.
Close. They were unnervingly close.
Where? To his right?
So, pretending to notice nothing, he casually rose and drew his sword, wiping its blade with a cloth as if merely admiring it.
"B-Brunhilde, sister..."
Göll was panicking. Right before her stood the ruler of Uruk, the King of Heroes of Sumerian legend.
The distance between them was so small she could almost reach out and touch him.
And this king, known in records for his cruelty, was now polishing his blade to a gleaming shine—making her fear he might suddenly swing it at her.
"Has he noticed us?"
At her sister's question, Brunhilde smiled faintly and parted her lips.
"Hmm, possibly."
Having come to this era herself and standing before this king, Brunhilde could confirm one thing: he was human.
She sensed no divine aura from him—meaning he was not the son of the goddess Ninsun as recorded.
In other words, Gilgamesh was no demigod with superhuman strength. He was merely a man.
And an interesting one at that. He had used red orpiment to poison most of the Council of Elders and the Assembly of Citizens.
In this era, such an incident, coupled with his theatrics using phosphorescent flames, would only fuel the belief that he had cast some curse.
Thus, he wielded this mystique to craft an image of terror.
"Eh—? Mmmph!"
Göll nearly shrieked at her sister's words, barely managing to clamp a hand over her mouth.
The next instant—a flash of cold steel.
The man before them had already slashed horizontally. A shelf beside Göll was struck, now collapsing.
"Ahhh—! My head, it's—it's still there?!"
Realizing what had happened, Göll screamed, frantically patting her head—still intact!
She touched her neck—no wound, still attached!
Why the scream? Because that gleaming bronze blade had suddenly swung straight for her throat.
To be precise, the sweeping slash had first cut through Brunhilde as if bisecting her, then continued toward Göll's neck.
The next moment, Göll paled again—her scream seemed to have drawn his attention once more.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, the bronze sword shot toward her, piercing through her body and embedding itself in the ground before she could react.
"Mmmph!"
Just as she was about to scream again, Göll hastily covered her mouth with both hands.
There was no mistake—this brutal King of Heroes could vaguely sense their presence.
It was only after she stopped making any sound that the gaze of the King of Heroes finally shifted away.
And only when his gaze moved elsewhere did Göll finally allow her tense body to relax, her legs giving way as she slumped to the ground.
S-she almost pissed herself in fear.
Glancing at her sister Brunhilde, she remained as composed as ever, standing firm without so much as a flinch.
As for why his attack seemed to pass through them like air, leaving them unharmed—it was because they weren't in the same time and space as him.
Perhaps it could be described like watching a holographic movie, where a character suddenly lashes out at you. But it's meaningless—they can't harm the real world.
Of course, since this was a pre-recorded film being played back, there was no way to alter its contents either.
Thus, they naturally couldn't change the already established history. Right now, they were simply watching a "film" about the figure known as Gilgamesh.
If history could be altered, the gods of the Babylonian pantheon would have long since traveled through time to save their slain chief god.
But history couldn't be changed at will—that was a rule set by the gods themselves.
In truth, even if history could be altered, the dead chief god could never be brought back.
That chief god must have been utterly annihilated, his soul shattered beyond recovery.
It was an unchangeable fact of causality—no resurrection, reincarnation, or time travel could undo it. He had become nothing more than cosmic dust.
So, how exactly had this King of Heroes managed to kill Anu, the chief god of the Babylonian pantheon?
Could her sister have misheard?
"Let's go, Göll."
"Huh? W-where to?"
Göll whispered, shrinking behind her sister.
"To the time when the Bull of Heaven was slain."
The goddess Ishtar, captivated by Gilgamesh's charm, had confessed her love to him—only to be rejected.
Enraged, she begged her father, Anu, to send the Bull of Heaven—a harbinger of drought—down to the mortal realm to exact vengeance. Yet, Gilgamesh had slaughtered it all the same.
But how?
The Bull of Heaven wasn't something a human could kill—no, to be precise, it wasn't something humans of that era could kill.
If it were modern human weaponry, then perhaps it would be possible.
Well then, let Brunhilde witness for herself the true power of this king.
As for whether she believed he had truly slain a chief god—after entering the Akashic Records and using the system, Brunhilde found the possibility far more plausible.
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have had access to this system, let alone the ability to investigate any pantheon's human history at will.
But due to the proposal of the ultimate clash between gods and humans—the "Ragnarök"—she had been granted full access to all historical records.
So, when she entered the King of Heroes' history, she found it locked—even other pantheons needed permission from the Babylonian gods to view it.
But now, with her unrestricted access to all pantheon-related human history, she no longer required the Babylonian gods' authorization.
The King of Heroes's historical records were deliberately locked? There's clearly some secret here.