Following the conclusion of that titanic battle, Gilgamesh’s name resounded across every corner of the Mesopotamian plains.
People spoke endlessly of the peerless, invincible monarch.
They recounted how the blade-wielding king had single-handedly broken a mighty coalition army.
They sang praises of his valor, heralding him as the strongest, most courageous figure to ever walk the earth.
Because he was a hero—unquestionably the mightiest hero of the era—and a profoundly wise king who managed his nation with absolute precision, the populace unanimously began referring to him by a singular title: the King of Heroes.
This fanatical admiration eventually spilled over into neighboring city-states.
In private, countless young maidens flushed red as they sang melodies dedicated to his legendary exploits.
In their fantasies, only a man as brave and fierce as the King of Heroes was worthy of their devotion.
Unfortunately, regarding these passionate displays of affection—which would have left any ordinary man ecstatic—Gilgamesh’s personal reaction was a firm and swift rejection.
He currently harbored absolutely zero interest in marriage or romance.
What a ridiculous joke.
He had finally obtained a flawless physical vessel; he had uncharted realms to map out, legendary entities to crush in raw combat, and an infinite array of fascinating stories within this vast world to experience!
Romance would only get in the way.
However, following the conclusion of that historic war, Gilgamesh encountered a practical dilemma.
Because he had utterly shattered the neighboring factions that attempted to lay siege to him, a massive number of city-states surrendered outright to Uruk in a desperate bid for survival.
Within a few short months, Uruk’s borders expanded exponentially, morphing the city-state into an immense, sprawling empire that showed clear signs of unifying the entire Mesopotamian territory.
Larger territory meant a skyrocketing population, causing an avalanche of cuneiform clay tablets to fly toward Uruk’s central temple like snowflakes.
Gilgamesh’s daily administrative workload instantly bloated into a monumental chore.
But it mattered little.
The base stats of his body were simply too broken.
Even when faced with this mountainous pile of work, it merely meant Gilgamesh had to sit upon his throne for slightly longer stretches than before.
The moment he finished organizing the administrative duties and outlined the strategy for future development, he would immediately pull his usual disappearing act without a single shred of hesitation, venturing into yet another perilous zone to resume his adventures.
And his legend expanded right alongside his footsteps, growing grander by the day.
Because the deities in the heavens were actively conspiring in the shadows to fashion an equalizer known as the “Chain of Heaven,” accounts of his exploits circulated widely among the pantheon of gods.
Eventually, carried by the faint murmurs of souls plunging into the earth, these stories drifted all the way down to the deepest basin of the Underworld.
The Underworld—the Realm of the Dead.
This was the final destination for all living things, an absolute forbidden zone completely untouched by the warmth of the sun.
In the center of this dim, gray world, a goddess with brilliant golden hair, clad in a magnificent gown of interwoven black and dark-crimson, sat silently upon her throne.
She listened quietly as the newly arrived souls recounted the legendary tales of the King of Heroes traversing the surface world.
This goddess was the absolute sovereign who governed this realm of demise—Ereshkigal.
Upon listening to the grand exploits of Gilgamesh, a powerful sense of longing and curiosity stirred within the heart of this golden-haired goddess, whose existence had been as still and silent as a withered well through countless lonely eras.
She deeply desired to understand this individual who embodied such a paradox of chaos and miracle.
Had this been the death goddess of original myth, such a desire would have remained a passing thought.
They wouldn’t have shared a cold encounter until the distant day Gilgamesh failed his quest for immortality and naturally welcomed death.
However, the timeline here had drifted down a slightly different path.
This particular mistress of the Underworld possessed subtle nuances that set her apart from the somber, rigid entity recorded in ancient texts.
Whether it was her external appearance or the personality concealed beneath her divine majesty, she carried a distinct, unmistakable sense of…
déjà vu.
Right now, Ereshkigal sat upon her throne, her beautiful face a mask of inner conflict and anxiety.
She desperately wanted to meet the mortal king who ruled the surface.
Yet, she couldn’t simply invite a living ruler down to the Underworld as a guest.
This was the realm of the dead; the moment a living vessel of flesh and blood crossed the threshold, its life force would be instantly snuffed out, rendering the person permanently deceased.
Ereshkigal actually held a highly favorable impression of the King of Uruk.
In most city-states, the mortal population viewed the Underworld with absolute dread and revulsion, and their sacrifices to the realm of death were often sloppy, half-hearted affairs.
But Gilgamesh was different.
When organizing Uruk’s administrative affairs and scheduling religious ceremonies, he ensured the sacrifices dedicated to the goddess of the Underworld were conducted flawlessly.
Ereshkigal could perceive that he didn’t harbor fear or disdain toward her simply because she governed death; rather, he viewed her as an essential, respected cog in the natural cycle of the cosmos, treating her with absolute, equal dignity.
If such an excellent king were to accidentally perish in the Underworld simply due to her fleeting curiosity, the surface world would be utterly devastated, wouldn’t it?
“What on earth should I do…”
The golden-haired goddess pondered deeply within her empty temple, eventually arriving at a brilliant breakthrough.
Since a living physical vessel couldn’t descend, she could simply pull his soul down temporarily while he was fast asleep!
It would feel exactly like a dream to him, allowing them to share a casual chat within the Underworld.
As long as she returned his soul before dawn broke, it wouldn’t cause a single shred of harm to his physical body!
“I really am a genius!”
Consequently, thanks to the swift, high-efficiency execution of the Underworld goddess, late the following night within Uruk’s royal chambers…
Gilgamesh—who had just wrapped up a continuous half-month backlog of administrative duties and prepared to enjoy a magnificent night of deep sleep before setting off into the wilderness at dawn—suddenly experienced a jarring sensation of weightlessness.
When he opened his eyes in a daze, he instantly realized he was no longer resting within his silk-lined royal chambers.
He was surrounded by an eerie, overcast, monochrome space.
A bone-chilling coldness saturated the air, beneath his feet rested solid obsidian tiles, and the distant, faint sighs of wandering spirits echoed through the void.
“Wait, what?
Where the hell did I get dropped?”
Gilgamesh executed a sharp kip-up to spring to his feet.
Though he currently existed as a detached soul, his muscle memory and combat instincts caused him to instantly assume a taut, defensive posture.
“Is this still Uruk?
Who’s the blind bastard that dared to kidnap me?”
While Gilgamesh stood completely bewildered, a figure slowly materialized out of the dark, swirling mist ahead.
It was a beautiful young maiden.
She possessed waist-length hair as brilliant as spun gold, tied into a pair of slightly playful twin tails on either side of her head.
She wore a grand, gothic-inspired gown dominated by black and deep crimson tones, and her hands gripped a massive lance-blade that appeared capable of piercing the very fabric of a soul.
Ereshkigal stood a few paces away from Gilgamesh, trying her absolute best to project the high-and-mighty, majestic aura expected of the mistress of the Underworld.
In truth, after actually successfully pulling the man down, the goddess felt incredibly anxious.
After all, she had forcefully dragged a sovereign ruler’s soul down to the realm of death in the dead of night without giving him a single word of advance warning.
No matter how one spun it, this behavior looked exactly like a textbook kidnapping, didn’t it?
Ereshkigal took a deep breath to settle her fluttering nerves, forcing her voice to sound frigid and dripping with divine authority:
“Ahem…
A pleasure to make your acquaintance, King of Uruk.
There is no cause for alarm.
I am the sovereign who governs this domain of demise, the goddess of the Underworld—Ereshkigal.
Forcing your soul here so abruptly tonight was merely for the purpose of sharing a casual conversation…”
Ereshkigal’s words cut off mid-sentence.
She suddenly noticed that the mortal king across from her—who had been locked in a tense, defensive stance a split second prior—completely lost every shred of wariness the moment he caught a clear glimpse of her face.
It was instantly replaced by a look of profound shock and absolute bewilderment, as if he were staring at a ghost.
Gilgamesh stared dead at the golden-haired, twin-tailed goddess before him, whose classic tsundere energy practically radiated across the room.
That face.
Those iconic twin tails.
And that distinct, flustered expression desperately trying to mask itself behind a wall of fragile authority…
The resemblance was uncanny.
Gilgamesh’s mind instantly short-circuited.
Releasing a core memory from his past life without a single filter, he pointed a finger directly at her and blurted out a frantic gasp:
“Wait…
Rin Tohsaka?!”
The atmosphere froze into an absolute block of ice.
Ereshkigal, who had been maintaining her grand divine facade, went stiff.
Her eyes filled with a look of pure, unadulterated confusion and blank bewilderment.
A full five seconds ticked by.
The mistress of the Underworld, who had been internally anxious about whether the mortal king would take offense, completely blew her top.
Stamping her foot violently against the floor like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, she pointed a finger back at Gilgamesh, completely discarding her divine dignity as she shouted at the top of her lungs:
“Hah?!
Who on earth is Rin Tohsaka?!
Listen to me when I’m talking to you, you incredibly rude creature!!!”