The King of Heroes, Gilgamesh.
Gilgamesh, wielder of the Gate of Babylon.
As long as his system's "Acting Approval Rate" reached 100%, he could fully unlock this card.
Then, he could apply the card's power to himself.
The result? Whatever abilities the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, possessed in the world of Type-Moon, he would gain them as well.
In truth, his current identity was already Gilgamesh—only, he had just ascended as the ruler of this city-state.
Originally, he—Renji Kurosawa—had been nothing more than an ordinary office worker.
No different from anyone else, living the monotonous cycle of work, home, and back—just another corporate drone.
A girlfriend? Dream on.
Maintaining a real-life girlfriend was too much trouble; he'd rather have a two-dimensional waifu.
Then one day, he "lay flat"—not in the metaphorical sense, but literally. His body went cold, and he ended up lying flat in the morgue.
That day, he had been lounging at home on his day off, watching Fate, when the TV malfunctioned.
Some unscrupulous manufacturer had cut corners, and the television started smoking before bursting into flames.
Hmm, if he recalled correctly, it happened right during a high-intensity moment in the anime—when a character unleashed their ultimate move, causing the screen to flash. For a second, he thought the attack was about to break into reality.
In his rush to unplug the TV, he ended up electrocuted—flatlined.
When he woke up, he found himself in ancient Sumer, over two thousand years before the common era.
Just like that, he had been reborn as Gilgamesh.
Strangely, he wasn't particularly panicked. His old life had already been on the verge of stagnation, and since he'd grown up in an orphanage, he had few attachments anyway.
So, in a way, this counted as a transmigration, right?
Then what about the cheat abilities that transmigrators in novels always got? Surely he'd have some?
He did—an "Acting System."
As long as he played his current role well enough to earn a 100% evaluation from the system, he could activate the card.
Of course, "playing the role well" didn't necessarily mean reenacting Gilgamesh's exact story as he knew it.
He just had to achieve feats comparable enough to earn similar recognition from history.
Generally, following the original storyline was the safer bet—the system even provided relevant records.
Otherwise, any reckless actions of his might trigger a butterfly effect, erasing his legacy entirely. That would mean a failed performance, and he'd never become the King of Heroes.
So, he kept a close eye on the Acting Approval Rate. If it suddenly dropped, it meant his recent actions were wrong.
If it rose, then he was on the right track.
So what would cause the role-playing to fail? The simplest answer is his death.
One scenario is being killed during the act, while another is dying of old age or illness without completing the progress.
Then, what happens upon failure? Does he truly die?
No, not exactly. The system will simply transition him into the next role-play.
The era of the next role will change, but as for what that role will be—
Apologies, the system didn't specify. Presumably, he'll only find out upon failure or success.
Or perhaps he'll have to judge for himself once he wakes up in his next rebirth.
Now, was his current act of poisoning the two major institutions based on the story progression provided by the system?
Not at all—it was his own choice.
Even with the system's narrative guidance, deviations inevitably arise no matter how closely he follows the script.
Why do these deviations occur?
This involves factors like speech, behavior, and other influences.
For example, the system's records might state that Gilgamesh went hunting on a certain day and clashed with someone.
But "a certain day" isn't specified, nor are the details of the conflict—its intensity or what exactly happened—leaving him to interpret it on his own. This makes things rather tricky.
Originally, the conflict might have only bred resentment in the other party, but if he misjudges the severity of his actions, it could provoke darker intentions—perhaps even murderous intent. This is what's meant by "deviation."
Thus, under the weight of these accumulated deviations, he was forced to take this drastic gamble.
So, what kind of world is this?
An ordinary one?
No—this is a world where gods may exist.
Does that mean he's been transported into the Type-Moon universe? Will he become a Heroic Spirit?
If this is the Type-Moon world, wouldn't the so-called "rewards" be somewhat redundant?
Suddenly, a clamor snapped him out of his thoughts. It was the high priest Aner, who claimed to commune with the gods, approaching.
Standing at the entrance, the priest froze at the gruesome sight inside, too terrified to step forward.
When he noticed the figure on the throne resting his chin on his hand, watching him with amusement, a chill shot straight to his brain.
To Aner, the scene was utterly surreal.
Faced with such carnage, the king remained eerily composed—even smiling at him. It was bone-chilling.
This inevitably led him to one conclusion: the king was responsible for the massacre.
This seemingly unthreatening ruler, still so young, had cold-bloodedly orchestrated the near-total annihilation of two major power factions.
"Y-Your Majesty… what… what happened here?"
His voice trembled as he regarded the king with fearful reverence.
"Nothing much. They were just in the way—kept talking about treating me like a puppet. So I cursed them to death."
Casually delivering this line, the king propped his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand.
At the same time, eerie blue flames flickered into existence beside him without warning, intensifying the unsettling atmosphere.
This display made Aner break out in a cold sweat. It seemed this young king truly possessed some unimaginable power.
A death curse? Could he actually wield some kind of curse?!
"Lord Aner, surely you don't share the same thoughts as these people, do you?"
As he spoke, the king slightly raised his head, revealing an aloof and domineering expression. An oppressive aura seemed to radiate from him, suffocating Aner under its weight.
"N-No, of course not!"
He hurriedly denied, terrified that any delay might result in his own demise by curse.
"Good~"
Meanwhile, in an unknown future, the gods were convening a meeting—one that would determine the fate of humanity: destruction or survival.