On a deserted island in the Pacific Ocean,
the humid sea breeze—like a mother's gentle hand—softly caressed Gilgamesh's handsome face. He sat cross-legged on a massive rock by the shore, letting the waves crash against his unyielding body.
Today marked his 9,490th day—twenty-six full years. After discovering that the nuclear missile originated from S.H.I.E.L.D., Gilgamesh immediately understood that Hydra was behind it. Those traitors truly had a talent for making his life difficult.
Just like that black-haired egg-head, they were now firmly on Gilgamesh's kill list.
As for Hydra's infamous "cut off one head and two more grow in its place"—they had already infiltrated every corner of the world. Finding them all was practically impossible.
Gilgamesh scoffed at the thought. "Fighting the impossible? Fine. Try hiding all you want. I'll just blow up the Earth along with that old witch the Ancient One. Let's see where you crawl off to then!"
Of course, that was only empty venting. For now, the most urgent task was to comprehend the Ninth Sense—Amara Consciousness. Only then would he have a real future.
Every day, he was reset back to the White House with the same mission: instantly kill the Avengers at the start, then teleport out of New York to meditate on the cosmos.
In other words, he had killed the Avengers over nine thousand times—so many that even Gilgameshdin was beginning to grow tired of it.
Sometimes, he would even chat with them out of boredom. But their personalities clashed so violently that a few exchanged words were enough to end in another fight.
Eventually, he stopped caring altogether. He simply greeted them with the highest form of respect—by unleashing his ultimate ability—and used his Noble Phantasm, Ea, to wipe them out in one blow.
This continued for all twenty-six years. Thanks to his daily contemplation of the universe's essence, he felt he had grasped a faint hint of the path toward Amara Consciousness, and so he pushed his cultivation even further.
Meanwhile, in the sanctum of mages—Kamar-Taj…
Odin, the King of Gods, approached the Ancient One once more, this time with clear anxiety in his voice.
"I can feel his power growing stronger—almost every day. Didn't you say there would be trials to temper him? It's been twenty-six years. Where are these trials?"
He was prepared to demand an explanation, but the Ancient One could only throw up her hands and cry out in exasperation.
"I did arrange them! But who could have predicted that Gilgamesh would turn into a complete hermit—living on a tiny island in the Pacific, meditating day and night, unmoving like a boulder regardless of wind, rain, thunder, or lightning? How exactly am I supposed to test him like this?"
Odin fell silent. Gilgamesh's reclusive habits were infamous even in Asgard. Whenever he meditated on his inner cosmos, he could sit unmoving for months. His longest session had lasted a full ten years—during which he comprehended Alaya-vijnana and rose to an entirely new realm of power.
If he kept this up, who knew when he'd surpass even greater thresholds?
At that point, even the combined might of the God-King and the Sorcerer Supreme might not be enough to restrain him. That would be a true catastrophe.
"We can't just sit here waiting for disaster," Odin declared. "This time, we must act first."
That same day, Gilgamesh teleported back to the island as usual, preparing to meditate on the nature of the universe. But unlike the usual, peaceful solitude, today—someone drifted ashore.
A woman.
She was Caucasian, with delicate features, lying weakly on a kayak. Her lips were cracked from dehydration, and her pale face looked like that of an addict on the brink of collapse.
"Help… help me…"
The waves nudged the kayak ashore, but her body had long exceeded its limits. Too weak to even seek fresh water, she could only lie there and call out feebly for aid.
Gilgamesh spared her a single glance—and promptly ignored her.
As the saying goes, if something looks suspicious, it probably is. After twenty-six years of absolute isolation, after seeing no one for decades, a woman just happened to drift onto his island today?
Even an idiot would realize it was a trick from the Sorcerer Supreme.
Seeing that he remained motionless, calm as a meditating monk, Odin's expression grew increasingly strained within the mirror dimension.
"I told you this trick wouldn't work," he muttered anxiously. "He holds a high position among the gods. Every day, countless women throw themselves at him, and he's indifferent to all of them."
Gu Yi's normally serene eyes flickered, her expression turning oddly thoughtful.
"Have you ever considered… that he might like men?"
"Like men?" The All-Father froze, stunned.
When one thought of the Twelve Gold Saints—aside from Scorpio Milo, the mature wine-haired beauty—the rest were all outrageously handsome men. Especially Pisces Aphrodite, whose beauty could make even women feel inadequate.
"Could it be…"
"No. No, absolutely not!" Odin roared, shaking his head violently. "How could my son—Odin's son—possibly like men?!"
His expression twisted between shock and outrage. The Ancient One, noticing this, only grew more convinced of her suspicion.
"Why don't we simply test it," she suggested calmly. "Let the truth reveal itself."
Seeing the suppressed smile glinting beneath her bald head, Odin's temper flared.
"Fine! Test it! My son—Odin's son—would never engage in anything so disgraceful!"
The next day, the timeline reset once more. Gilgamesh teleported back to the island. As always, a kayak drifted toward the shore—except this time, a handsome half-naked man lay on it.
Gilgamesh's eye twitched violently. He instantly understood the Ancient One's intention.
A flash of crimson light burst from his fingertips, vaporizing the man and the kayak in an instant. Still unsatisfied, he sprang to his feet and roared at the sky:
"You bald old monk! You're the Sorcerer Supreme—have you no shame?!"
Inside the mirror world, Odin threw his head back in triumphant laughter.
"See? I told you—my son would never do something so scandalous!"
Hearing this, the Ancient One exhaled in weary resignation.
"If even romance fails, then… we will have to try other methods."
"Other methods? Like what?"
On the third day, on the same isolated Pacific island, Gilgamesh appeared—only to see Thor and Loki sitting cross-legged on the sand, trying and failing to crack a coconut with a stone.
"How did you get here?"
"How did you get here?"
The three spoke at the same time, though Thor and Loki were clearly far more agitated.
Thor immediately sprang up, closing the distance in a few strides. He grabbed Gilgamesh by the collar, eyes blazing.
"It was you, wasn't it?! You trapped us here and sealed our divine power!"
Gilgamesh looked up at the sky, utterly speechless.
These city folks are really pulling every trick they can think of.
If emotional manipulation doesn't work, they're playing the family card now?
"Ancient One! Get out here!! Don't hide in the mirror dimension—I know you're watching!"
No matter how fiercely he shouted, she remained silent.
Gilgamesh attempted to break the seal—but to his surprise, two forces, each nearly equal to his own, resisted him. Their magic was cleverly constructed, even attempting to siphon off his divine power to reinforce the seal.
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