Beyond the universe, countless multicolored and strangely shaped dimensional realms overlapped and intertwined.
The first to catch the eye was a pitch-black, malevolent dimension, perpetually shrouded in darkness, where an immense and terrifying lord resided.
His body was unbelievably vast—so large that even a single star could not compare to one of his eyes. This was none other than Dormammu, the ancient rival of the Sorcerer Supreme.
Next came a hellish realm of lava and fire, inhabited by countless grotesque demons who fought and slaughtered one another with savage cruelty—undoubtedly Mephisto's domain.
Above and around this universe stretched a verdant, dreamlike dimension, where innumerable souls dwelled, radiating fear and pain as they struggled helplessly.
Farther out lay more realms—so distant that with his current strength, Gilgamesh couldn't see them clearly. He only knew that his instincts were screaming at him not to look any deeper.
"So there are so many terrifying beings hidden beyond the universe…"
Gilgamesh muttered to himself, his fleeting confidence instantly extinguished.
Dormammu had always seemed evenly matched with the Ancient One, yet his true form was unimaginably horrifying.
Suspended within the dazzling, colorful gaps between dimensions, Gilgamesh shook his head, still shaken. Just as he began to avert his gaze, a casual glance caught on a large-headed figure. Floating in the void, dressed in a blue robe, the being had a flat, square face almost resembling Jack Ma—and was currently sizing him up.
Their eyes met. Gilgamesh froze, instantly recognizing the legendary cosmic Observer.
It was said that Observers never interfered in cosmic affairs, choosing only to watch the unfolding of events in silence.
The unexpected encounter left Gilgamesh uncertain, unsure whether he should attempt a greeting.
As he hesitated, a seductive voice suddenly whispered in his ear.
"Young man of Asgard… would you be interested in joining the grand ranks of Hell?"
Gilgamesh immediately snapped his gaze toward the voice. In the blazing depths of Hell's lava sea, a high throne materialized. Upon it sat a crimson-skinned figure with wild, wicked eyes, thick black hair, and a towering, muscular body draped in a scarlet cloak. It was Mephisto, Lord of Hell.
"Are you talking to me?"
"Is there anyone else here?"
Though they spoke across dimensions, everything they saw, heard, and said felt as clear as a face-to-face conversation.
Gilgamesh glanced around the dimensional layer he occupied and frowned, unable to hide his disgust. "I can see your Hell—fiery red, bloody, chaotic, drowning in despair…
That kind of place has absolutely no appeal to me."
Mephisto didn't grow angry. He had lived too long and encountered too many beings—arrogant, humble, conceited, reserved…
He had made deals with countless people of every personality, and cooperation with them was always pleasant—
A pleasantness that was, of course, entirely one-sided.
Naturally, such a trivial insult wouldn't provoke him.
"As a token of sincerity for joining Hell, you would gain the immense power of the Hell dimension."
Mephisto tilted his head, propping it up with one hand, speaking with lazy confidence. "Look at you—possessing the will and soul of a demon god, yet lacking its energy.
Join Hell, and you'll shed this state of outward strength and inner weakness.
Believe me, being a demon who acts as he pleases is far more comfortable than being a gentleman shackled by morality."
He truly lived up to his reputation as the master of the Hell dimension, instantly discerning Gilgamesh's strengths and weaknesses. Though Gilgamesh was powerful now, he was still lacking compared to a true dimensional demon god.
A demon god wielded the power of an entire dimension as its foundation, while Gilgamesh was like water without a source, a tree without roots.
In a war of attrition, he would stand no chance.
If Gilgamesh could acquire an unclaimed dimension—one like Dormammu's—he could ascend to the ranks of dimensional demon gods immediately.
But the key problem was that he didn't have one right now. He could only watch helplessly as other dimensions—such as Hell—joined the fray, freely mobilizing their own energy without ever worrying about lacking backup power in battle.
However, using someone else's power meant obeying someone else's rules.
He refused to behave like the Ancient One, stealing scraps of energy every day. What kind of demon would stoop to that? It was shameful.
"I am a god, exalted above all. Why should I debase myself and let others look down on me?"
Mephisto scoffed. Little thing, you're quite arrogant, he thought. Play around all you want. When you grow tired of pretending, you'll naturally want to climb higher.
And when that time came, you'd be begging him—not the other way around.
It might take a long time, but time was something he had in abundance.
The discussion ended on a sour note. When Gilgamesh regained consciousness, he found the howling wind still raging. Dark clouds flashed with thunder, and rain poured down in sheets. He sat cross-legged amid the rising tide, a few banana leaves propped above his head. Thor and Loki, both shirtless, sat on either side of him, shielding him from the downpour.
They were shivering from the cold, but neither dared to disturb him.
Seeing this, Gilgamesh froze for a moment, genuinely surprised that they had thought to take care of him. A warmth stirred in his chest—one that had lain dormant for many years.
But his pride prevented him from breaking the moment's tranquility, so he quietly closed his eyes again. His inner cosmos flared to life, releasing a warm divine glow that enveloped the two shivering figures and repelled the rain and seawater around them.
Thor, seeing this, assumed Gilgamesh had grasped some profound insight and that his cosmos was reacting on its own. Only the perceptive Loki seemed thoughtful.
Because he had just seen Gilgamesh's body tremble ever so slightly—proof that he was awake but pretending otherwise.
This guy's really arrogant, the God of Mischief thought, a smug grin forming inside his heart as if he'd uncovered a secret Gilgamesh had guarded for years.
The next day, the storm finally died down. Thor and Loki headed back into the forest to search for food. Once their figures disappeared, Gilgamesh slowly stood up and stretched.
At that moment, the Ancient One—who had been hiding for years—finally appeared.
She wore her familiar orange-yellow monk's robe, her gentle smile unchanged, and her bald head gleaming softly. But this time, Odin stood beside her.
"It seems I can no longer keep you contained," the Ancient One said warmly, her expression kind and serene.
But her hypocrisy only fanned Gilgamesh's fury. "While there's still time, why not choose a dignified way to die?"
His gaze sharpened, murderous intent blazing in his chest as his inner universe roared to life. Golden flames burst outward, staining the sky as if dyeing black ink with gold—an omen that the wrath of a god had awakened.
Visit patreon.com/ShiroTL for more chapters.