A sudden and unexpected scene interrupted everyone's thoughts.
"You're lying— I—"
Ereshkigal, who had barely managed to react, was completely unable to resist the power of that sword. It was as if her divine authority had been rendered completely ineffective.
The undefeated goddess of the underworld, Ereshkigal, was inexplicably cleaved in two by a single strike!
"You bastard!"
Ishtar, upon seeing her other half attacked, immediately lost her composure. Without thinking, she launched a flying kick toward the old man standing behind Ereshkigal.
Gilgamesh, however, remained rooted to the spot, his gaze growing solemn as he said, "Old man, who are you?"
Even the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, found himself unable to discern any information about the old man behind Ereshkigal, as though he were seeing a figure shrouded in mist.
"Ereshkigal?"
Mash, now visibly tense, strode forward in an attempt to separate the old man from Ereshkigal and Alaric. The distance between them was simply too close for comfort!
Ishtar's flying kick passed through the old man with surprising ease, as if his figure was nothing more than a phantom—something that existed only in their vision and had no physical form.
Unlike the others, Alaric, whose vision was obscured by the blood, remained calm. His gem-like vertical pupils continued to observe death.
It was a death far greater than any Alaric had ever seen before.
Ereshkigal, as the cornerstone of the underworld, was equivalent to the underworld itself. As the goddess who possessed all the powers of the underworld, looking at her with the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception was essentially the same as observing the entire underworld.
Not only Ereshkigal, who was synonymous with the underworld but the ancient figure behind her was also reflected in Alaric's eyes.
A being that embodied death, moving by divine will—a being second only to the highest existences.
A death star that shone brilliantly in human history.
The moment Alaric observed these two entities, his brain surged with pain, and blood began pouring from his orifices.
But relying on his strong physical constitution and regeneration ability, Alaric forcibly ignored the extreme burden brought about by observing death, treating it as a normal and acceptable expense.
Alaric gently caught the bisected body of Ereshkigal before swallowing the blood rising in his throat and smiling. "It's been a long time... It seems I'm still far from being mature!"
The figure behind Ereshkigal, the one who had swung the strike that split her divine body in two and severed her divinity, was none other than the Grand Assassin: Hassan-i-Sabbah, the Old Man of the Mountain!
This was the esteemed mentor who had taught Alaric the art of assassination during the Sixth Singularity. Without the Old Man's teachings, Alaric's mastery of the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception would have remained at a superficial level.
In this Seventh Singularity, Alaric had encountered the Old Man of the Mountain once before, during his first descent into the underworld. Now, they met again.
The moment Alaric used her Mystic Eyes to observe Ereshkigal, he understood the purpose of the old man's appearance.
Following the guidance of fate, he had severed the goddess covenant that bound Ereshkigal's divinity. If it had been up to Alaric to sever this covenant, he would not have been able to do it.
Although Alaric had successfully severed the goddess covenant tied to Quetzalcoatl's divinity, when it came to Ereshkigal, he was unable to locate the covenant's exact position.
Ereshkigal, whose body was covered with lines of death, was equivalent to death itself in the underworld. With Alaric's current skill level, he could not reach the depths of her divinity or the goddess covenant.
Only the Grand Assassin, the Old Man of the Mountain, the origin of the Assassin class, and an assassin who had reached divinity, could accomplish this feat.
The sword swung at the underworld goddess leaving an indelible mark in Alaric's eyes.
It was, without a doubt, a skill that had reached the pinnacle of perfection—an art that even the gods could not escape.
It ignited a sense of longing in Alaric's heart.
When would his skill reach even one-tenth of the Old Man's brilliance?
"Immature… far too immature. If thou wishest to act recklessly… do so later," the Old Man's deep voice resounded, his authoritative gaze sweeping over everyone. His eyes lingered briefly on Ishtar, who was radiating divine energy, before he said, "Calm thyself… and look closely. What I hath severed… is not her life, but her covenant.."
As soon as his words fell, Ereshkigal, who had collapsed in Alaric's arms, abruptly opened her eyes. In a panic, she patted herself all over and spoke rapidly, "Oh no! That scared me to death! I wasn't just cut in half, was I?! In a mythical sense?!"
Only Ereshkigal, who had faced that sword directly, could comprehend what had happened. She had indeed been cleaved entirely in two—not just her pseudo-servant body, but even her divinity, which represented Ereshkigal herself, had been torn apart by that blade!
This left Ereshkigal completely unable to calm down. Thankfully, Alaric quickly grasped her panicked hands and said soothingly, "Calm down, Ereshkigal."
"Huh?"
Only now did Ereshkigal seem to realize where she was. Her cheeks instantly flushed red as she hurriedly pulled her hands away from Alaric's grasp, covering her burning face and letting out a vague murmur. "What is going on here?"
But by this time, Alaric had already shifted his attention away from Ereshkigal and was once again focused on King Hassan. As Alaric raised his head, his gaze met the Old Man's profound eyes.
At the same time, Gilgamesh's serious voice rang out: "So, old man, who are you? The only living beings in the underworld are Alaric, Mash, and Fujimaru Ritsuka, yet you're neither among the dead nor a mere mortal. Your skill transcends the reach of ordinary humans. You are not of my court, nor Chaldea, nor the Magecraft King. Who summoned you?"
As Gilgamesh questioned the Old Man of the Mountain, Mash, seeing that Ereshkigal was unharmed, finally breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Senpai, Ereshkigal is fine!"
Meanwhile, Fujimaru Ritsuka was staring intently at the old man standing before Alaric. This was not her first time seeing him.
"Who is to say… mayhap, for the threads of fate art tangled and complex, I hath risen from the abyss… to turn the hands of time forward. It mattereth not. Mine hand moveth… only in reverence of our shared domain."
The Old Man chuckled softly but quickly turned his gaze to Ereshkigal, who was still in Alaric's arms. His expression grew deeper and more commanding as he spoke: "Ereshkigal… thou hast shrouded truth in shadow and woven falsehoods. If any fragment of shame yet dwelleth within thee… then speak. Tell me—why dost thou forge this Nation of Death? For thou art a goddess… entrusted with souls… one who loveth humanity most deeply."
"What nonsense are you spouting?! I only care about my possessions—the souls imprisoned in my spear prison."
Ereshkigal broke free from Alaric's embrace and stood once more on the soil of the underworld, her tone defiant. "Look at this land—its sky without light, its ground without brilliance, its soil without flowers.
True, there is no entertainment. There is nothing at all. I don't even understand what the souls are saying. But there's no shortage of silence and peace. Only the restful solace of death. It's a world that won't lose to any other!"
"Life on the surface, humanity on the surface—none of that matters to me. The only things I care about are the things that fall into this land of mine.
So… how could someone like me possibly love humanity on the surface?!"
"Ereshkigal, this is merely sophistry."
Alaric listened quietly to Ereshkigal's words before responding with a calm conclusion.
"What… What do you mean?! This isn't sophistry!"
Ereshkigal stammered in protest. "I'm just interested in dead humans, that's all!"
Even the Old Man of the Mountain could no longer stand her stubbornness. "Verily… this is naught but sophistry, Ereshkigal—scarlet bloom offered unto the earth. Thou dost not love the dead… but those who yet walk… bound by death's inescapable fate.
Thou dost not scorn death as a terror to be fled… nay… thou revere it. As a goddess… thou seeketh not to cast souls into the abyss but to shelter those left adrift in death's wake.
Thou didst forge a covenant… to gather lost souls unto this land of silence… though it burdens thee with solitude and misunderstanding. Amidst tens of thousands, thou hast chosen isolation.
To guard this silence… to stand ever watchful… this is thy dignity… as a goddess."
With the final veil torn from her heart, Ereshkigal was left with no ability to refute, her cheeks reddening and remaining flushed.
"That's how it is. Defendant Ereshkigal, do you have anything else to say in your defense?"
Clearing his throat, Alaric raised his hand in a gesture of inquiry, waiting for Ereshkigal's response.
"No… nothing!"
Ereshkigal averted her eyes awkwardly, avoiding Alaric's gaze, and stammered, "I lost, okay? Aren't you going to take my head?"
"You didn't cause any casualties, did you?"
Alaric smiled. "Although you did scare me when you tried to drag hundreds of people from Kutha into the underworld that one day."
"But no casualties mean no casualties. Ereshkigal, since your attempt failed, I ask you to join our camp to fight Gorgon."
Alaric had no intention of letting a goddess-level combatant like Ereshkigal go. The idea of taking her head was a mere joke.
"I put in so much effort though—"
Having done nothing but drag the troublesome Gilgamesh into the underworld, Ereshkigal shrugged. But soon, she perked up again. "Well, it can't be helped. I'm a goddess, after all. I have to take responsibility!"
Seeing Ereshkigal agree, Alaric finally let out a sigh of relief. Just as he was about to speak to the Old Man of the Mountain, he realized that the Old Man had disappeared without a trace, unnoticed by anyone.
Afterward, Ereshkigal, unable to leave the underworld, could only wait for the moment when she was needed, watching as Alaric and the others departed the underworld.
Left alone, Ereshkigal no longer felt lonely.
Not only had she gained friends she could call her own, but more importantly—
"So beautiful—"
The underworld flower, Ereshkigal, held a bouquet of vibrant flowers in her hands, admiring them alone in the silence of the underworld.