(The scene shifts across the multiverse, where deities watch the unfolding apocalypse with a mixture of terror and apathy)
In countless divine realms, ordinary gods lay numbly upon their thrones, utterly drained. A single, unified thought echoed in their minds: Don't come for me. I'm just a salted fish[1] god. I won't destroy humanity. Just leave me alone! The title of 'god' had lost its allure. Whoever wants this throne in the future, one thought: come and take it. I welcome you with open arms...
World of Cautious Hero:
The goddess Listarte was in a state of pure panic, no longer daring to boast of her divinity to anyone. "Holy shit! Do you think they'll come to kill me?!" she wailed, clutching her head.
Seiya, the hero she summoned, looked at her with utter disdain. "You're so weak I could probably beat you myself. When did you get the delusion that you were ever strong?"
World of Konosuba:
"Kazuma! Kazuma! Something terrible is happening! Someone from my own Axis Cult wants to kill me!" Aqua shrieked, burying her face in Kazuma's shirt, covering him in a mess of snot and tears.
"Ugh, so disgusting! Serves that rotten cult right if it's gone!" Kazuma grumbled, yet he found himself helplessly patting the crying goddess's head. "It's a good thing, really..."
It seemed that from this day forward, beings summoned by gods might not ask for a golden finger or cheat skill. Their first question might instead be: "Hey God, can I kill you?"
The age of gods was being cursed off the world stage. Some desperate deities, however, shouted in perverse support: "Go on, Mother! Kill them all! End humanity for good!"
[Back in the Singularity—The Descent of Despair]
On the screen, the monstrous Lahmu, children of Tiamat, wreaked havoc everywhere. Fujimaru Ritsuka, left with no choice, ventured outside the city's relative safety to fight. It was here they encountered a transformed, monstrous figure—Siduri, the king's loyal attendant, now one of them.
Yet, she did not attack. She simply looked at them, then turned and left quietly, a sliver of her former self still clinging to consciousness.
Suddenly, the Chain of Heaven—Enkidu—appeared, his form shimmering with golden light. He looked upon these "New Humans" with anger and confusion.
[What do you hope to achieve by gathering these old humans?]
he demanded, his voice echoing with a power that was both familiar and alien.
But the Lahmu responded not with words, but with a visceral, psychic message that felt like a sneer directly in his soul: [Hahaha... Enkidu... You are truly boring!]
Before he could react, a sharp pain erupted from his chest. Enkidu looked down in disbelief as a Lahmu's limb impaled him, pulling the Holy Grail that was core to his current form from his body.
"[Why...]" was his last thought as he was sent staggering away, grievously wounded. He wasn't Tiamat's son? Why would her children turn on him?
Stumbling through the scorched landscape, he collapsed against a petrified tree, his energy fading. He closed his eyes, seemingly accepting his fate.
Shhhkkk... Shhhkkk...
The sound of the approaching Lahmu was like nails on stone. They raised their bladed limbs for the final strike.
Thwip! Thwip!
But the killing blows never landed on him. Enkidu's eyes snapped open. He watched, utterly bewildered, as one Lahmu turned on two others, slaughtering its own kin in a frenzy.
[You... Are you insane!?] The remaining, betrayed Lahmu seemed to shriek before it, too, was struck down.
The Lahmu that had saved him now stumbled towards him, its form trembling. It reached out a shaking, monstrous hand.
[Kindness... Enkidu...] it communicated, its voice a distorted whisper in his mind.
[Who... are you?] Enkidu asked, his voice weak.
[Thank you...] it replied.
[Why... save me?]
The Lahmu's trembling hand gently, almost impossibly softly, rested on his head, caressing his cheek.
[Wish you... get... happiness...]
[My dear friend... Enkidu...]
A flood of memories, not his own, yet intimately familiar, washed over him. Memories of a life where he lived, where he and Gilgamesh, Siduri, and the people of Uruk were happy.
Siduri's voice, gentle and warm:[Everyone... everyone laments your death...]
[Everyone... has never forgotten you...]
[I also... am the same...]
[So... I wish you happiness...]
He understood. This Lahmu, this monster, was Siduri. Even in this horrific form, her kind heart had endured long enough to save him.
"[Siduri...]" he breathed.
[Enkidu...] Her psychic voice was fading.
[Beautiful... Green man...]
[Ah... Very good... I could also say... thank you...]
[Thank you... Thank you...]
Enkidu reached out, his eyes wide with a profound and aching sorrow, but Siduri's form collapsed into black smoke, vanishing from the world forever.
(In his throne room in Uruk, the Hero King Gilgamesh watched this scene unfold through his clairvoyance. His face was a mask of cold indifference, but the walls around him, cracked and shattered by an unseen force, told the true story of the cataclysmic fury raging in his heart. He had seen this fate for Siduri and had not interfered. The path to victory demanded sacrifices too terrible to bear.)
[The King's Plan—A Hope Forged in Despair]
Fujimaru and the others returned to the palace, the mood grim. They had to devise a strategy against Tiamat.
[She has no concept of death,] someone stated. [No matter what we do on this earth, she cannot truly die.]
[Therefore,] Gilgamesh declared, his voice cutting through the despair,
[We must drive her into the underworld! Only there can death have meaning for her!]
But the logistics were impossible.
[It will take three days to prepare the ritual,] Da Vinci calculated.
[Tiamat will be at the walls of Uruk long before then.]
As the council descended into hopelessness, the King of Heroes threw his head back and laughed—a loud, confident sound that echoed in the chamber.
[Hahahaha! Foolish ones! This king has already seen the path to victory!]
Ishtar looked at him, exasperated.
[So? There's still no way to hold her back for three days!]
Gilgamesh's smile was triumphant as he pointed a finger directly at her.
[The solution is you! Ishtar!]
The room fell silent. Ishtar blinked, completely baffled. [Me?]
[Hahahahaha! You finally remember how to use your ultimate trump card!] Gilgamesh boomed, striding over and ruffling her hair with rough, almost affectionate amusement.
[It's so hateful~ It's so hateful~ that it took you this long!]
[Fujimaru!] the king turned, expecting his Master to understand.
And understand he did. Fujimaru's eyes lit up with sudden, blazing realization. [It's Gugalana!]
Ishtar froze. Her face went pale.
[The great mythical beast of Sumer, who serves the Goddess Ishtar!]
[The Bull of Heaven! Gugalana!]
[We'll use that to hold Tiamat back!]
Excitement swept through the room.
[I heard Gugalana could drink the Tigris River dry in one go!]
[It'll be easy to win with that!]
[As expected of Lady Ishtar...]
The praises washed over her, but the goddess herself stood stiff, a look of profound embarrassment and panic on her face.
[What's wrong?] Gilgamesh's laughter died down, his eyes narrowing.
[If it were your usual self, you'd be bursting with arrogant laughter by now!]
[It's... it's gone...] Ishtar mumbled, turning her face away, unable to meet anyone's eyes.
[Ha?]
[What did you say?]
[Gugalana is gone...] she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The air in the throne room turned to ice. The only sound was the soft growl of the leopard-man, unaware of the catastrophe.
[Gone... lost...] Ishtar repeated, on the verge of tears. She, a goddess, had lost her ultimate weapon.
Gilgamesh stared at her, his expression shifting from confusion to utter, incandescent rage.
[YOU... STUPID GODDESS!!!] he roared, the walls shaking.
The sure-win strategy had been shattered by the goddess's incompetence. The king sighed, a sound of ultimate resignation, and walked towards the palace entrance.
**Alright. "Council dismissed," he announced, his voice flat.
[Enjoy the time between tonight and tomorrow morning, however short it may be.]
[The Dawn of the Final Day—The King's Speech]
That night, people cherished what they believed were their final moments. As dawn broke, painting the sky in hues of fire, the King of Uruk stood before his remaining people on the palace steps.
His voice, amplified by magic or sheer will, rang out across the silent, waiting city:
[Announcement to all citizens who remain in Uruk!]
[Half a year ago, the Warcraft Front was established. At that time, I told you that no matter how we struggled, Uruk would perish!]
[I told you that you could run, you could indulge in pleasure, you could lament your fate and throw yourselves into the underworld!]
[You all knew the outcome, yet you still rose up to resist! There is no doubt—Uruk is, and always has been, a happy city!]
[Including its history, its life, its people! Including this king!]
[I will say it again! Uruk will be destroyed! This is an unchangeable fact!]
[But there is no need for you to be sad! The reason is simple: as long as a single one of us remains to usher in the dawn of victory, our existence will be engraved in their heart!]
[Even if we die! Even if we leave no descendants!]
[People pass their will on through the hearts of others! This is not a blood relation, but an inheritance of knowledge! A bond of life itself!]
[The destruction of Uruk does not mean we will be destroyed!]
[We will deny the Primordial Goddess at this very moment! We will carve the path for a new era of mankind!]
[This is our true farewell battle with the gods! Now, dedicate your lives to this king!]
[Forge our will into a weapon!]
[To convey the glory of our Uruk to all future generations!]
The speech ended not with despair, but with a fire that could not be extinguished. They would win this battle. Uruk would live on, here and now. With only 500 wills remaining, they would make a god bleed. They would fight until the last drop of blood was shed.
[1] a person who is lazy, unmotivated, or has no ambition