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A miniature world. A civilization born from dust. Sentient beings the size of ants.
Ethan stood at the edge of this world, looking down upon it from a height that pierced the clouds. Beneath his gaze stretched the grand city of Uruk, the culmination of generations of struggle and ambition. And at its center, within the sacred temple, knelt the one who had started it all.
Gilgamesh.
His white hair fluttered in the wind, his face lined by the weight of years. But Ethan remembered him differently.
He remembered a young warrior atop the Divine Tree, shouting into the heavens with fire in his eyes and the Sword of Damocles raised high. That child had once stood in the palm of his hand.
And now—an old man. Weary. Trembling. Awaiting death.
To Gilgamesh, it had been a lifetime.
To Ethan, only two days.
"How have you been, Gilgamesh?" Ethan murmured softly. His voice, though quiet, rolled through the clouds and echoed across the city like thunder.
Gilgamesh trembled. His hand gripped the hilt of his divine sword as he looked up at the colossus in the sky.
"I… I've been well," he rasped.
Though they had met before, the sight of the titan still stole his breath. The being's form blotted out the sun, his radiant body cloaked in divine light. His presence seemed to hold up the sky itself.
Every citizen of Uruk stopped what they were doing. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Slaves dropped their burdens. Nobles in embroidered silks, craftsmen with calloused hands—all stepped into the streets and gazed upward in awe.
"The Great Beast of Wisdom…"
"The god who gave us civilization!"
"A being as vast as the moon, the sun, the stars themselves!"
Shock, fear, longing, worship—these emotions crashed together inside the hearts of millions. The city was silent, united in reverence.
Inside the temple, Gilgamesh stared up at Ethan with eyes full of hope and hunger.
"Great Beast of Wisdom… I fulfilled the mission you gave me. I built a kingdom. I forged a legacy. I brought light to a savage world."
Ethan's voice was vast and echoing.
"Gilgamesh… your deeds shall be remembered for eternity. Your name will be carved into the heart of the Epic of Genesis. You are the first and greatest king of Sumer, the Hero King. Generations to come will sing of you in mighty sagas."
But Gilgamesh shook his head, agitated.
"No. I don't want to be remembered after death. I don't want legend. I want to live. I want what you have—I want eternal life!"
He fell to his knees, arms stretched skyward.
"Please… give me the Three Treasures of Immortality!"
Ethan said nothing for a long time.
The old king—who had once held the world in his hands—was now reduced to begging for more time.
And yet... Ethan understood.
He, too, desired the same thing.
He, too, was dying.
"Gilgamesh," he said at last, voice steady. "You are too greedy. I do not possess the Three Treasures of Immortality. Even I cannot break the cycle of life and death."
It was the one truth no being could escape.
Whether a god or a worm, a king or a farmer—all return to dust.
In that moment, the gap between their worlds closed.
The dying man and the dying creator—both small before the vast, pitiless tide of time.
"No…" Gilgamesh whispered. His eyes filled with tears. "You're lying! You must be able to! Look at you—unchanged by time, eternal!"
He stared up at Ethan's towering form. The titan stood like a mountain, youthful and invincible. While Gilgamesh had withered, this being had not aged a day.
"You have power! I know you do! Have you come just to watch me die? To bear witness to my final, pathetic moments?"
Ethan's gaze was heavy.
"I came to see you off," he said softly. "And to deliver a warning."
His voice darkened.
**"Your civilization is too brutal. You ravage the land. You burn the forests. You hunt the beasts of the earth to extinction. You trample everything beneath your ambition. Is this what civilization is? **
He looked down at the king, sorrow in his voice.
"A truly civilized people is not savage. I demand that your kind stop the slaughter."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then—Gilgamesh took a step forward. His aged body still powerful, still defiant. His white hair whipped behind him like a banner.
"No. I will not stop."
His voice rang out, burning with pride and fury.
"All my life, I've felt your sword—the Sword of Damocles—hanging above me. You gave me power, yes. But you also gave me fear. Now, I will take that sword down with my own hands!"
He turned to his scribe.
"Akkad."
The historian stepped forward, scroll in hand. "Your Majesty?"
"Record this. Let this be etched into the annals of our people."
Akkad unfurled the scroll and raised his quill.
Gilgamesh drew a heavy breath, voice grave.
"The story of mankind is a saga of courage and defiance. I created the Epic of Genesis so future generations would remember. Now, let this moment be remembered too."
He leaned on his sword, his eyes smoldering.
"In the Era of Genesis, in the year 175 of the Sumerian Dynasty, one hundred years after slaying the legendary behemoth Fenba, the Hero King once more took up arms."
"He summoned the strength of the entire nation… and lured forth the god who once gifted him civilization."
"And now, at the very end—he would raise his sword against the Great Beast of Wisdom!"