In the Imaginary Number Sea, there was only silent emptiness.
Amid the lingering, chaotic murmurs, Rovi slowly opened his eyes. Countless visions flashed before his gaze.
Everything about Uruk after his departure, he now knew clearly.
"That golden glittery bastard… So he found the contingency I left behind, after all?" Rovi thought to himself, unable to suppress a faint smile.
His repeated journeys into the Netherworld, and the expansive realm he'd carved out there—vast enough to hold all of Uruk—had been the final gift of a Sage to his King, and also his last precaution against disaster.
If the powerful Uruk continued its rise unchecked, it would inevitably twist the historical trajectory or become a Singularity—even escalating into a Lostbelt derived from that Singularity.
Singularities would always be corrected, and Lostbelts pruned away from existence.
If that happened, everything Rovi had ever done would be lost from history, entirely meaningless. He'd naturally guarded against this possibility, yet he also couldn't bear the collapse of the glorious empire the three of them had built together.
Thus, withdrawing proactively from history's stage was a plan Rovi had made long ago.
Thinking forward, thinking back; vigilance even in prosperity.
Such was the duty of a Sage.
"Origin of all Kings, ruling over the Netherworld, a Mortal Underworld King… That bastard Gil really had the guts!"
With tangled thoughts, Rovi withdrew his gaze.
Though he couldn't witness the final ending—only glimpsing Gilgamesh leading Uruk into the Netherworld—nor see En, Eresh, or Ishtar-Rin at the end, he knew Gilgamesh had lived safely. Through the key he'd given away, he sensed their well-being as well. At last, Rovi felt relieved.
They'd meet again someday.
Not in the Throne of Heroes, but in the present world—he would inevitably return.
On the other hand, the Imaginary Number Sea itself existed independently from the world, another 'line' entirely, its connection to reality relying primarily upon one's perception as an anchor.
In other words, if Rovi returned to reality now, it would certainly be after Uruk had entered the Netherworld.
A hundred years might pass in an instant.
Rovi coughed lightly. Even as he felt the flow of time, his body was deteriorating, gradually weakening.
No pain—only heaviness, a draining sensation, as if succumbing slowly to illness.
"Aaaaa..." Soft pink starlit eyes lowered gently. Tiamat stood tall in the Imaginary Number Sea, her form like a vast floating ark, sustaining the very concept of 'existence' within this nonexistent place. She bent slightly, gazing intently at the tiny figure in her palm.
The goddess's crossed legs curled backward slightly, tightening subtly at their juncture. Her dragon scales rested upon her like a thin garment, undulating gently with every subtle twist of her slender waist.
[Are you... alright?]
Rovi understood her meaning.
Perhaps due to the concept embedded in the Sword of Rupture—Ea, the primordial manifestation he embodied allowed him to comprehend the chaotic speech of the primordial mother.
With this foundation, Tiamat's chaotic voice transformed clearly into a gentle, affectionate female tone.
A nice built-in translator, wasn't it?
"It's nothing. Just some mongrels buzzing like flies around my ears. Pay them no mind," Rovi replied casually.
He'd clearly been captured, yet showed no fear at all.
Since escape was impossible, he'd rather be relaxed before 'death.'
Tiamat tilted her head slightly.
[Mongrels? You mean those…]
"Yes, exactly those unfilial brats," Rovi smiled back. Since Tiamat saw him as another manifestation of 'primordial origin,' speaking this way felt perfectly natural.
Thus, Tiamat held Rovi gently in one hand, while the other rose, softly poking him.
A massive finger, cloaked in dark scales, cautiously tapped atop his head, carefully stroking over it.
In that instant, Rovi sensed the curse within him flaring in intense fear.
Yet even Tiamat seemed unable to remove this deep-rooted affliction—after all, the reason she'd been exiled originally was precisely due to the combined efforts of the gods.
Though it had involved a surprise attack, the gods' alliance was indeed strong enough to rival her.
[Does it… hurt? Like when they… struck me…]
"That bunch of mongrels? Hurt me? They're nowhere close!" Rovi scoffed, "And don't worry, I won't die."
[What is death?]
"Death means leaving the world forever—unable to meet those you wish to see, unable to stay in the places you love. You can no longer hear or see anything..."
[Then am I already dead?]
"You still have a chance to return. You can still talk to me, so naturally, you're not dead."
[Then will you die?]
"Didn't I just say I won't die...?"
[But I can feel your body failing, your soul beginning to shatter...]
"I said—I will not die."
'…'
In the eternally dark 'world,' the primordial mother embraced the tiny gleam of light, her voice drifting gently, rippling through nothingness before fading away.
It had been so long since Tiamat last experienced this sensation.
The ability to exchange thoughts.
To speak her emotions.
To voice her doubts openly.
[Rovi… are you alright?]
"I'm tired. Let me sleep for a while..."
[What is sleeping?]
"To sleep is to pause your steps for a short time."
[Pause your steps?]
This time, Rovi gave no reply, leaning against Tiamat's gently raised finger like a stone pillar, softly closing his eyes.
He tightened his robe slightly.
He sank into sleep filled with anticipation—or rather, died.
Indeed, he could sense clearly—the curse of the gods had reached its limit. His life truly had come to its end.
Closing his eyes meant death.
All his merits and failures drifted across his vision.
At the final moment, Rovi felt a slight cool breeze brushing past his face. The Imaginary Number Sea had no wind, yet this breath had come from Tiamat herself.
She leaned slightly, gazing at the figure in her palm.
She reached out with her finger.
Called softly with her voice.
But there was no response at all.
Was Rovi… dead?
Just as he'd explained moments ago.
Gone forever from this world. Hearing nothing, seeing nothing, never able to reunite with the ones he wished to see, never able to remain in the places he loved…
If Rovi had died, then she, too, would be here—hearing no sounds, seeing no scenery, unable to meet those she wished to meet, unable to remain in places she loved.
Did that mean… she had to die as well?
The primordial mother's eyes widened slightly.
She did not want to die.
So, you also cannot die.
If you die, there would never again be someone who could understand my words.
"Aaaaa..."
A crystalline voice sounded.
Tiamat gently pressed her palms together, covering Rovi softly within.
Within her palms, a chaotic sea appeared.
Primordial light and shadow stirred gently.
As if recreating the world's very first landscape, the primordial mother, Tiamat, displayed her power.
She nurtured Rovi within her palms.
From death came rebirth.
Just as she once birthed the gods…
The difference being, the gods had arisen after her, evolving from the gradually stabilized natural phenomena of a planet.
Yet Rovi was born from something even before her—from a primordial origin predating even herself.
He was, indeed, the Child of Primordial Origin.
---
T/N: LMAOOO HES BEEN THOROUGHLY CORRUPTED BY GIL MONGREL THIS MONGREL THAT
...
Umu! I am Nero Claudius—the brilliant Emperor of Rome, the dazzling Saber, the one and only performer who can steal a stage with a single smile!
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