"It's a foolish habit, he says."
Equality
To pursue what I desire, I awaken my soul.
The vessel set the course, and so I act.
What to do? To gain knowledge—self-knowledge, in a sense.
Yes. To give substance to my respect for the vessel—the Heroic King, Gilgamesh.
The reading of the Epic of Gilgamesh.
"Here you are, Mash, Master."
In the newly renovated grand library, Gilgamesh greeted Mash and the Master, lounging with his feet propped on a desk.
"Hello, Heroic King."
"Yo, Gil!"
Let's overlook his casual posture. It's the King's relaxation mode. If the vessel's at ease, that's fine.
"Arriving five minutes early shows good spirit. I'll reward you with candy when the tale's done."
"Candy? I get some?"
"Delightful. A king beloved by fairy tales, are we?"
Two young girls peeked out—Nursery Rhyme and Jack the Ripper, recently manifested.
"What, you invited these two children too?"
"Sorry! They wanted to hear a story."
"I wanna read a story!"
"I wanna hear it. What wonderful tale will the King tell?"
"…Fine. They'll keep us awake. Go ahead and narrate, Mash."
"Yes! This Mash Kyrieight will recite the epic with all my heart!"
Yes. This Nameless Spirit learned from past epic-induced naps. To avoid that folly, I devised a plan.
Alone, the boredom was overwhelming—the vessel fell asleep instantly, true to the legend's dullness.
So what to do? Have someone else read it.
"Though my eyes are closed, my ears are open. Pay me no mind and narrate with gusto for the Masters."
Let Mash and the Master take the stage as storytellers.
A maiden's voice should soften the tedium. A clever (maybe?) plan from this nameless mind.
Joking aside, I simply want to know more about this hero.
An unparalleled hero. The origin of all myths.
A supreme king with a perspective beyond gods and men—to honor that respect with substance.
This vessel is no mere vessel anymore.
To me, he is none other than a great king.
"Begin. I'm expecting your personality to shine, Mash."
"I-I'll do my best! —Now, the king named Gilgamesh—"
I closed my eyes gently.
What footsteps of the King will we trace today?
At his coming-of-age, he chose his path.
He would not live as a king who governs people but as a storm that admonishes them.
Born of god and man, endowed with boundless strength and solitude, the king never shirked his duty.
He resolved to see all.
To see is to decide. To see all the world is to determine the value of all the world.
He declared himself the absolute standard.
Recognizing only himself as the ultimate measure.
To judge the true worth of humanity's creations—with himself as the absolute criterion, to discern what held value.
From then on, the king was a living calamity.
Tyranny, oppression, judgment, coercion. He imposed every trial upon his dominion.
The people lamented: Why has it come to this?
The gods groaned: We didn't expect this.
All sang: A tyrant.
All condemned: Heartless.
—But that wasn't the truth.
He was merely—earnestly fulfilling the mission he set for himself: to forge and protect the civilization of the stars.
To be the north wind that blows upon humanity—
So that humanity could weave its future as humanity.
"You would admonish me?"
Amid his tyrannical storm, the king faced him in the city square.
Emerald hair gleaming. Graceful in manner.
A beautiful figure, neither man nor woman.
"Yes. With my own hands, I'll correct your arrogance—"
A puppet forged by the gods, speaking insolent words.
In an instant, the two became a storm, clashing and engulfing the city.
The king's eyes widened in shock. The puppet before him transformed into every form, overwhelming him.
Sword, spear, bow, steed, dagger, staff, shield, halberd, cannon, beast.
Shifting freely through all creation, the puppet overpowered the king. In humiliation and awe, he roared:
"You—mere clay—dare to rival me—!?"
For the first time, the king drew treasures from his vault.
It was a disgrace. To sully the treasures he so cherished, whose value he had affirmed, with mud—it felt like a failure.
Yet he couldn't defeat the puppet. It was too strong, too swift, too versatile; retrieving treasures one by one was too slow.
In that moment—the king conceived of hurling his treasures.
Swords, spears, bows, steeds, daggers, staffs, shields, halberds, cannons, beasts.
Supreme treasures to counter all creation. Divine weapons to match the puppet's transformations.
The battle shattered floors, houses, and shook the heavens, raging night after night.
—Until at last—
"Each of us has one move left."
Having hurled all his treasures, the king held the Sword of Rupture in his right hand and a key in his left.
"With no defenses left—"
The puppet, exhausted of clay and unable to transform further.
"—We'd just end up as two foolish corpses."
Was it a proposal to end it, or a judgment that one corpse sufficed?
—Then, the puppet fell. Its bare, unadorned form seemed pitiably frail.
"Haha… hahahahaha—"
After a booming laugh, the king collapsed in kind.
Breathing heavily, sprawled on his back, he gazed at the endlessly blue sky.
"Your treasures, all spent—don't you regret it?"
Every treasure was gone. The vault was empty.
—Yet the king's heart was clear.
"What of it? For a worthy opponent—"
To clay that matched me—
"—It's not so bad to give them up…"
The king's words echoed into the sky—
I opened my eyes.
That scene, that sentiment—it was his. The hero's memory.
I just… experienced the king's life.
A thrill of exhilaration coursed through me.
That one who rivaled the king—
His one true friend… Enkidu?
Then, that tactic—hurling treasures—was it the proof of their honed bond?
"—A good stopping point. Well narrated, Mash."
Time had passed considerably. I opened my eyes and sat up.
"Let's pause for tonight. This isn't a tale finished in a day."
"Aw! I wanna hear more!"
I completely agree, but sleep is needed for tomorrow. Leisure is fine, but not idleness.
"Don't complain. My legend won't run away. We'll resume when there's time."
"The King's so strong!"
"Even Jabberwock would be shocked. Flipping a city? That's something!"
"Youthful folly, as they say. I was quite green. Well done, Mash. Your voice could suit a radio host."
"Th-Thank you! I'm honored!"
"Hm. I'm off to sleep. You lot rest too. Prepare for tomorrow—staying up late is beauty's enemy, you know."
"Carry me, Mash!"
"Y-Yes!"
"You kids too. Bedtime. Here, candy."
""Yay!""
The supreme weapon who rivaled this king, Enkidu.
Will I meet them someday?
More knowledge of the king, stored in my soul.
Reading further with each Singularity we overcome might be nice.
I reconsider.
To the battle of hurling treasures—henceforth, with pride.
To honor their shared memory—
"Cu Chulainn Alter (Dance)"
"Cu Chulainn Alter (Dance)"
"AHAHAHAH—LOL"
"What's with that creepy laugh! (Totally freaked out)"
----------------------------------
Support me on Patreon - Advanced Chapters There!
patreon.com/Greyhounds