He showed no astonishment, no panic, no excitement because she was a goddess—he simply remained unmoved.
That very calmness made Ishtar blink in surprise. Didn't he believe her? No matter. She'd make him believe.
The next moment, her body glowed, and suddenly barley, wheat, lentils, and other crops sprouted all around them.
These plants had grown on bare stone, as if by miracle.
"So this will prove that I am Ishtar, the goddess of nature and harvest," she declared.
"And?" he replied. "Nature and harvest goddess Ishtar, to what do I owe the honor?"
His tone was exactly the same as before—no change, as though he spoke to an ordinary mortal.
Ishtar's expression darkened. She was a goddess, and this human—no matter how great a king—treated her as if she were nothing more than any man.
Angry though she was, she found herself liking him all the more.
"It's very simple: I have fallen for you. King of Uruk, be my companion, and you will shed humanity's short lifespan to become a long-lived demigod."
A goddess proposing marriage to a mortal—who could resist? The chance to become a demigod in a single step, and never die of old age—who wouldn't be tempted?
The king of Uruk actually sat up straighter, and regarded her with a curious glint in his eyes.
"Curious glint?" Ishtar thought.
"I hear you've lain with certain gods—and that other mortals have accepted your offer as well?" he asked coolly.
"You needn't worry," she purred, leaning in and exuding her divine fragrance. "For now, my heart belongs only to you."
Ah—he cared about that after all. Men were all the same; a few sweet words could win their loyalty.
But instead of swooning, he cocked an eyebrow and said, "So you really slept with all those men? Pardon me, but I don't like taking the bus."
Bus? The word made her blood run cold. She felt insulted—and what did this mortal king mean? She flung him aside as if he were filth clinging to her hand.
Ishtar's face twisted in fury, veins throbbing.
"Pfft—!"
Someone could not help but stifle a laugh. It was Grea, the youngest Valkyrie sister. She'd never heard anything so brutal.
A Sumerian king mocking "the bus" era-miles away? Unbelievable.
"Wah!" she squeaked as a sharp gaze shot toward her. Had he sensed them again? Grea dove behind Brünhilde, hearts pounding. They still existed out of phase with time, but that gaze felt all too real.
"Don't know what a bus is, do you, Gilgamesh!" Ishtar snarled, no longer calling him king but by name, her face grotesque with rage.
"You don't understand?" he said graciously. "I'll explain: a bus is a shared vehicle anyone can board for a fare. I don't like sharing—my royal chariot is custom-built, clean, and comfortable. If you'd like to ride a bus, I'll have my charioteer take you around Uruk so you can see its beauty."
Grea bit her fingers at the absurd offer and worried for the king's safety. Ishtar's beauty had warped into a nightmarish grimace, her claw-like fingers twitching as though to tear him apart.
"Heh heh heh—ha ha ha—very good, very good, Gilgamesh!" she screamed, voice tearing. Grea shivered at the sound.
"Oh no, Brünhilde, he's going to be killed!" she whispered.
"No. A god won't dirty herself by killing a mortal with her own hands—that's unbecoming. They prefer subtler punishments, then revel in the mortal's suffering."
Brünhilde narrowed her eyes. From the dangerous spark in Gilgamesh's gaze, she saw eagerness—and perhaps a thirst for divine blood. Did he intend to slay a god? Where did he get such confidence?
"Remember this," Ishtar hissed. "You will regret today's insolence!"
With that, she vanished. The king on his throne curved a faint smile—and his progress gauge edged up to 95%. If he'd struck and actually killed her, would it have jumped to 99%?
Next, the Bull of Heaven would be unleashed to stop him.
Chapter 008: The Bull of Heaven Attacks
In the farmland outside Uruk's walls, irrigation worked perfectly and the soil was rich—there was never a famine under the great king's rule.
Suddenly, a farmhand paused and squinted at the sun. "Why is it getting so hot today?" he wondered—an unnatural heat rolled in from the south, radiating from the ground rather than the sky.
Looking southward, the air seemed to ripple. The crops in the distance darkened, wilted—and some patches even smoked before catching fire.
"What…what's happening?" he gasped.
A blast of searing heat nearly knocked him over; the surrounding fields withered under the scorching wave. Then he saw it—a huge, unfamiliar shape charging toward him.
"A bull?" he breathed. Never had he seen one so massive. As it ran, the temperature soared and the earth seemed to quake beneath its hooves. It was clear the bull alone caused this deadly heat.
Soldiers tried to stop it, but none could approach. They collapsed in sweat and heat long before reaching the beast.
From the temple tower, those with eyes caught sight of the thick smoke rising beyond the southern walls. "What's going on? An enemy attack?" "Is that the farmland?" "Are they setting fires? Why are our guards standing by?"
The elders were silenced by a gesture to calm. They descended from the tower, boarded prepared chariots, and raced toward the smoking gates. Before they even reached the wall, soldiers riding out delivered the verdict.
"I…is that the fabled Bull of Heaven, Gugalanna? The divine beast of Anu?"
"Has Ishtar begged Anu for this punishment?"
"If so, it brings drought upon the land."
From atop the wall, they watched the rampaging creature scorch the fields, and many quivered—some even dropped to their knees. "It is divine retribution from Ishtar! Kneel and plead—"
One flash of bronze cut through their cries, and an elder's head flew clean from his shoulders, rolling in the dust.
"Whoever kneels meets this fate," Gilgamesh declared, red eyes blazing like a murderous star. The nobles and elders straightened, terror in their eyes.
"Answer me: who has made Uruk so prosperous and powerful these last few years?" he called out, arms wide. All eyes fixed on him.
"You…you, your majesty."
"The King of Uruk!"
"King Gilgamesh!"
A thunderous roar of acclamation filled the air.
"Yes," he said, "I am your king—and I received no godly visions, no divine…so all this was brought by me, a mere human, not by any so-called god. And now, the one ravaging our fields was sent by those gods."
Silence fell. Then, trembling with anger, they cried out together.
"Do you know why the gods would do this? Because that false goddess—no, wanton Ishtar—demanded I become her slave! And of course I refused that harlot!"
Their voices shifted from fear to indignation.
"Do you see now? These so-called gods demand our offerings and steal our dignity and freedom in return for their so-called protection. Is that truly divine? Tell me—what are they?"
"They're evil gods! They're demons!"
In an instant, the soldiers, the citizens, the nobles—all were caught up in a righteous fury and howled in rage. Their united anger shook the heavens—and even the Bull of Heaven hesitated.
"Demons…demon—ugh!" Grea stifled a gasp, pressing a hand to her mouth. She'd never felt such raw fear. This was the power of Gilgamesh, king of Uruk—and even she was swept away by it.