With an idiocy surpassing even that of humans, Gilgamesh continued to struggle against death.
He cast aside the pride of a king, abandoned authority and power, and pursued immortality without knowing why—or for whom—he sought it.
Fear was only part of it.
What he truly despised was death itself, because it represented his failure. A failure to fulfill his role as an observer of humanity's future. A failure to stand until the very end.
At last, he reached the realm of the dead.
There, he met Utnapishtim.
And there, he learned the truth.
Utnapishtim's immortality was not unique. He had attained longevity by joining the gods—shedding his humanity and becoming something closer to a plant than a man.
Gilgamesh rejected it outright.
Immortality without desire, without hunger, without passion—it was meaningless. If he were to live forever, it would be as a human, not as a stagnant divine object.
He intended to return to Uruk and resume his rule, believing the journey to have been pointless.
But Utnapishtim, perhaps offended—or perhaps amused—shared a secret.
An herb.
A root growing in the depths of the sea, capable of granting eternal youth without relying on divine mercy.
Utnapishtim himself refused to consume it, knowing it would strip him of what little humanity remained. Instead, he treated it as a curiosity.
Gilgamesh descended into the abyss, retrieved the herb, and emerged once more.
He could not properly describe his feelings then.
Though he claimed he had no need for godlike immortality, a part of him hoped. He smiled, believing he had finally conquered death—and avenged his friend.
Returning to Uruk with such a treasure would have shaken the world. The cheers of the people would have surpassed anything before.
Calling his mindset the recklessness of youth, vanity soon followed. For the first time, he felt unsettled by the irregular state of his body—something he had never considered before.
Before returning, he chose to rest.
At a spring, he washed away decades of fatigue.
And there—
For the first time in his life—
Gilgamesh felt joy.
As the water flowed over him, a deep tranquility filled his body and mind, as though a lingering burden had finally been released.
Collecting treasures had never brought him happiness. It was instinctive, like breathing.
But this—
This was different.
Obtaining the means to immortality was the first time he had ever been grateful for his own birth. Until then, he had believed himself human in perspective only—not in truth.
In that moment, he felt free.
No duty.No fear.No fixation.
Overwhelmed by that sensation—élan vital, the vitality of existence—he believed he could live forever, doing anything he desired.
Then—
Carelessness took everything from him.
While he rested, a snake—drawn by hunger—slithered from the jungle, attracted by the scent of the herb.
By the time Gilgamesh emerged from the spring, it was already gone.
The snake shed its skin.
The herb had granted restoration of youth—not immortality.
All that remained was the empty husk.
Gilgamesh stared.
Then he laughed.
He laughed until his sides hurt—at the absurdity of it all. At how everything he sought, everything he prided himself on, had amounted to nothing.
He understood then.
His reward was not immortality.
It was understanding.
The joy he had felt vanished as quickly as it came, revealing the nature of the human world—fleeting, fragile, irreplaceable.
Immortality was unnecessary.
He had been born human in that moment—and would one day die human, having learned joy.
Though "complete" from birth, he had still required an entire lifetime to mature.
His body reached maturity beside Enkidu.
His mind reached it here.
Laughing beneath the rising sun, he returned to Uruk.
Thus ended his journey.
He ruled in silence, a king who had found himself at last. He entrusted Uruk to the next ruler and went to eternal rest without revealing the herb's location.
The first hero became the first story.
After Awakening
…Truly.
The greatest king in the world.
A man who began brilliantly, lost himself, and ultimately found his path.
I never imagined experiencing something like this.
In my previous life, I was just an ordinary person—Diogo, a Brazilian with nothing particularly special to his name.
Ups and downs, sure.
But nothing like this.
The world is vast.
And the one I live in now—
Is no longer ordinary.
Gods exist.Beings capable of destroying the world exist.
And I must grow strong enough to survive it.
No—
To change it.
There are countless calamities lurking beneath the surface.
Rizevim and the Vampires.Trihexa's seal.Hades' purge of Longinus wielders.Nyx's plans involving Ingvild, Great Red, and Ophis.
All things that must not be allowed to happen.
The goddesses brought me here to alter history.
And I will.
With my power—With my choices—With my new life—
I will change this world.
After all—
This is my new life.