"Siduri..."
Inside Uruk's royal palace, within the majestic, spacious temple, someone spoke toward the towering throne, "Has the King not yet returned?"
The speaker was an elderly man in a long linen robe, face lined deeply with age—the High Priest of the Pantheon, who had first brought the departed Sage into the presence of the king.
Of course, that had been long ago.
Now the Pantheon had lost most of its power, retaining only ceremonial duties, and most priests spent their days in idle leisure at home.
Yet this former High Priest continued to come daily to the palace, asking the same question.
Has the king returned?
"High Priest," someone beside the throne answered—Siduri. Her appearance was still youthful, but her voice was no longer clear and bright as before; instead, it carried the weariness of years. "The King has not yet returned."
"Is that so..." The old priest was unsurprised, though still somewhat disappointed. "It seems the consecutive departures of Rovi and Lady Enkidu deeply affected the King…"
Since the day the Sage Rovi was taken away by the primordial goddess Tiamat, Enkidu had vanished without warning, leaving behind only a brief letter informing Gilgamesh that she would search for Rovi, urging her friend to take care.
Even the last lingering goddess, Ishtar-Rin, disappeared. It was said she had ascended to a higher plane of existence, the place where all gods eventually gathered. She declared that she would await Rovi's return there—she still had some 'debts' to settle with him.
It was precisely after these events that the young, Wise King of Uruk withdrew into silence for a time, then departed as well.
He said he would journey afar, searching for an elixir of immortality to lift a curse.
That journey lasted years, with no word.
If not for the comprehensive system Sage Rovi had carefully crafted from the bottom up—where even in the king's absence, royal authority remained intact, upheld by officials clustered around that authority—Uruk would have long since fractured, existing only in name.
Yet this did not mean the country had no need of King Gilgamesh.
In fact, without Gilgamesh, Uruk managed only to sustain itself, never truly progressing.
Many important matters were left unresolved, for no one could decisively act—even Siduri lacked the wisdom and resolve needed.
The old priest sighed again. Knowing the story of those three made it all the more poignant and helpless.
Just then, from outside the doors came that familiar, arrogant laughter:
"Hmph—Bwahahaha… Seems this country truly can't survive without its magnificent King!"
As arrogant and proud as ever.
The old priest froze. Siduri, too, froze.
They turned in unison toward the figure stepping through the doorway—golden hair hanging loosely, clad in golden armor, his handsome features unchanged despite his skin darkened slightly by sun, bearing the marks of a long journey.
"My King!" Siduri's voice trembled slightly with excitement.
"My King—" The old priest bowed deeply.
Gilgamesh nodded slightly, striding forward. Just before reaching his throne, his gaze lingered on the two seats long vacant beside it, and suddenly he laughed softly.
"My King, you…" Siduri was surprised.
After all, when Rovi and Enkidu had left, Gilgamesh had fallen into a certain 'depression'—though this depression manifested as harsher insults and even more reckless acts.
The former reflected the Sage's influence, the latter his earlier, wilder self before meeting the Sage.
But now, that gloom seemed to have vanished.
"It's nothing, Siduri." Gilgamesh shook his head. "This King merely recalled the idiotic look on that idiot's face when Tiamat grabbed him... Damn it, whenever I think of that moron, I can't help but laugh. Hmph—Bwahahaha!"
Siduri: "..."
Oh no, the king had broken again.
After laughing a bit longer, Gilgamesh suddenly paused and asked, "Do you know where this King journeyed?"
"I walked the entire earth and found the legendary immortal herb said to lift any curse," Gilgamesh declared solemnly, seating himself upon his throne. "But this King tossed it away again."
Because such a thing never belonged to this king.
For during his long journey, Gilgamesh had seen many things—and understood even more.
...
'Thus spoke the returned King:'
'I climbed the highest mountains of the world, glimpsing the fading clouds left behind by the Bull of Heaven.'
'I stepped into the abyss, gazing upon the deep expanses of the Netherworld.'
'I crossed endless seas, witnessing the boundaries of heaven and earth.'
'Only then did I realize:'
'My friends...'
'All this time, you have been beside me.'
...
"Hmph—Bwahahaha… That fool carved out an entire vast world for this King within the Netherworld!" Gilgamesh burst out laughing.
What future awaited Uruk?
Gilgamesh had pondered this question deeply after the departure of his two closest companions.
Uruk would never endure forever.
Not merely because of historical inevitability, but because nothing in this world was eternal. Stagnation invited ruin, as did reckless expansion.
Yet, after suffering his curse, Rovi had repeatedly journeyed into the Netherworld…
With his own power—an ability akin to the creation of heaven and earth—he had opened up a vast expanse of space there.
Whether forward or backward, the Sage beside the king had always prepared a retreat.
"This King believes that fool still lives."
"So, this King will personally guide Uruk—the precious treasure shared by we three—to its greatest glory, and await their return right here!"
These were the final words left by the king that day.
...
'From then onward, the King diligently ruled, initiating reforms and conquests.'
'He actively governed, reforming Uruk thoroughly.'
'He led his armies, expanding Uruk's territories across the Mesopotamian plains.'
'His name resonated deeply into the earth.'
'He interacted with the vast world of the Aegean Sea, deeply influencing the scattered city-states, earning the title of "Greatest King of the Golden Age."'
'He was the first King, the symbol of heroes.'
'He was the original, Heroic King.'
'In his later years, he led all of Uruk into the Netherworld, awaiting the return of his friends.'
'After his departure, Mesopotamia fractured again, until the Akkadian civilization rose, and later Babylon unified Mesopotamia.'
'Five hundred years later, Hammurabi created the world's earliest code of law, based on clay tablets left behind by the Sage.'
'The Mortal Underworld King.'
'Rovi, who stood beside the King.'
'Even today, there are still those who call him thus.'
—Epic of Gilgamesh
...
"Hmph—Bwahahaha… You golden sparkly bastard, you might have a foul mouth, but you did alright!"
"Gil, you did well…"
The Netherworld.
After the goddess Eresh's disappearance, this realm fell under Gilgamesh's 'rule.'
Atop the lofty palace, Gilgamesh opened his eyes slightly.
An illusion, perhaps…
He heard their voices.
The king's scarlet eyes widened slightly in surprise.
He stared ahead, at a suspended key.
It twisted, reshaping into silvery chains and a spiral sword—
The manifested projections of power left by Enkidu and Rovi.
Gilgamesh froze.
Then smiled.
So—it wasn't an illusion after all.
They had always remained by his side…
"My King, Lord Hades, Underworld King of the Aegean Sea, invites you as a guest," Siduri's voice came from beside him.
Recently, that neighboring Underworld King—the mechanical god descended from beyond the heavens—had repeatedly sought advice from Gilgamesh, hoping to understand what 'personality' an Underworld King should possess.
"Understood. Tell that mechanical brain—this King shall visit him," Gilgamesh replied, carefully storing away what floated before him into the deepest vault of his treasury.
The pondering vanished from those scarlet eyes, replaced only by dignified calm—and his ever-present arrogant smirk.
Even ruling the Netherworld, he never hesitated to proclaim his existence to the world.
Moreover, in the 'future' he glimpsed, within that land stood a familiar figure.
...
"Enkidu… what is humanity?"
"I don't quite understand either. But I know—as long as you have someone you're waiting for, someday you'll understand exactly what humans are."
"I see… but I still don't get it."
"You'll understand someday. Just like you shed that broken metal shell, you'll surely become a god who truly comprehends human nature—Artemis."
"As for me… I, too, was once just an unfeeling creation of the gods…"