"…Another one who resembles Enkidu? If I recall correctly, you said the same thing about that saintess, didn't you?"
Ereshkigal's lips twitched slightly as she spoke, her tone a mix of helplessness and faint amusement.
"But there are still differences, aren't there?"
"Mm."
Ophis nodded.
To the gods, Enkidu had been nothing more than a tool—created to restrain both mankind and its king. Yet through the teachings of the sacred prostitute who guided her toward reason, Enkidu came to understand emotion and love, ultimately turning her back on the gods. It was an irony as profound as it was ancient: the gods do not understand the human heart.
Even the sacred prostitute—supposedly humanity's most devout worshiper, the one closest to the divine—had never truly loved the gods.
For gods were merely the personifications of nature. What she loved was not divinity itself, but the totality of nature—the world's living essence.
Her task was to teach the Heavenly Chains wisdom, to grant Enkidu understanding. But teaching reason to a wild beast was never simple.
To fulfill that mission—and more, out of her own love for Enkidu, the child of earth born at the gods' command—the sacred prostitute chose to fuse herself with Enkidu.
Not to be reborn through the body of the Chains, but to give those Chains a heart capable of love. And so, bit by bit, she dissolved herself into Enkidu.
In the end, the sacred prostitute disappeared, leaving behind only Enkidu—the Chains of Heaven.
Enkidu could have cast off every trace of her, living as a new being of pure reason. Yet she chose instead to inherit everything the sacred prostitute had given: her wisdom, her body, her emotions—while keeping only the core essence of the Chains.
So was she the sacred prostitute, or the Chain itself? The question had always been meaningless.
She was simply Enkidu—bearing the prostitute's emotions and the Chain's nature and memory, nothing more or less.
To stand close to divinity yet look toward humanity—such was the love of a saint.
To serve the gods yet yearn for nature—such was the love of the sacred prostitute.
Like her predecessor, Enkidu was not a saint who sacrificed herself solely for mankind. Her love, though pure, was not bound to humans alone—it was for the world itself.
Thus, Enkidu was unlike Jeanne, and even further removed from Lily.
And yet, the purity of their souls was the same. That was what stirred the faint echo of familiarity within Ophis. Perhaps it was something all saints shared.
Even that Artoria girl—King Arthur of this world—was closer to a saint than to a monarch.
Ophis sighed inwardly.
Enkidu had asked her to inherit her love, but accepting such lofty emotions was no easy task.
Still, there was no denying that Enkidu had changed her.
If not for Enkidu, the old Ophis might have sacrificed all of Uruk, dragging her enemies into mutual destruction.
Even the current Ophis—changed though she was—might still, by reason alone, abandon the many to protect the few: select only the exceptional, rebuild civilization from there, and call it mercy.
But now, Ophis loved this world—its land, its nature, and the humanity born from it.
Not the way one cherishes a pet, but as Enkidu had: as comrades sharing the same soil.
Even if, admittedly, she didn't yet fully understand that love.
"Ereshkigal, do you love humans?"
"…What's this all of a sudden?"
Ereshkigal blinked, then answered in a composed voice. Ophis only shook her head slightly.
"What does a god's love even mean?"
"…"
Ereshkigal didn't respond right away. Her gaze drifted toward Uruk, the flicker of its distant fires reflected in her eyes.
"In the earliest days, gods had no love."
After a long silence, she continued softly.
"Love among gods, feelings between gods and humans… they're all just forms of desire. Tell me, have you ever heard of a god who truly wed a human out of love?"
Without waiting for Ophis's reply, Ereshkigal pressed on.
"Yes, some gods claim to love humans. But that's nothing more than a logical flaw—an error caused by holding too many conflicting Authorities. It's an instability that twists even the gods themselves."
"An error…?"
"…Take my foolish little sister, for example. She governs war, harvest, love, and beauty—professing love for humanity while reveling in their wars. Among humans, she'd be deemed completely mad."
"…"
Ophis said nothing, quietly listening.
"Well, but—I don't think those contradictions are necessarily wrong."
Ereshkigal's tone softened suddenly.
"Aren't we gods defined by such contradictions? Every irrational thing can be blamed on us—whether folly or madness. Love if we wish to love, hate if we wish to hate. No justification required."
"…Is that so?"
Ophis lowered her silver-gray eyes for a moment, then lifted them again to meet Ereshkigal's gaze.
"In that case, Eresh—"
"Uwah, why the sudden nickname? Even if I was the one who told you to use it…"
Ignoring Ereshkigal's flustered mutter, Ophis continued calmly.
"Eresh, is there anything you love?"
"…So we've come full circle after all."
Ereshkigal exhaled, her expression dimming. She rose, looking down at Ophis.
"Sorry if this disappoints you, but I'm not like my foolish sister. Let me reintroduce myself properly—I am Ereshkigal, Goddess of the Underworld, Mistress of the Dead, Keeper of Death. I despise all living things. The only ones I love are those that belong to me—the souls of the dead. That's right, I love only the dead."
"Is that so…"
Ophis let out a soft breath and stood, meeting Ereshkigal's crimson eyes directly.
"Eresh really isn't honest at all."
"…What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just what it sounds like."
"What's with that?!"
Ereshkigal's voice rose, but Ophis ignored her agitation, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"The visitors from another land have arrived. The path to the future is no longer shrouded in mist."
"…Oh?"
Ereshkigal's tone shifted instantly, her earlier irritation gone.
"What are you trying to say, King of Uruk?"
"The halted gears should begin turning again. Don't you think it's time for war to resume, Goddess of the Three?"
A faint smile crossed Ophis's lips.
"So this is your declaration of war?"
Ereshkigal's eyes narrowed, a cold, divine light flaring within them as the surrounding plants withered in an instant.
"Yes. Wait for me in Kur, Ereshkigal. I'll break through your seven gates."
The suffocating aura of death rolled across the hill, but Ophis stood unmoved, her serene smile unbroken.
"How arrogant. Even my foolish sister lost her strength before she reached the end—she couldn't even stand to fight me. How far do you think you can go?"
Ereshkigal sneered, her crimson eyes gleaming with fatal radiance.
"Just wait and see. When you lose, tell me then—honestly—what your true feelings are, Eresh. What you really desire."
Ophis's calm gaze met the eyes that could annihilate life itself, her voice gentle, almost tender.
Ereshkigal's body trembled ever so slightly before she scoffed.
"Then come and try. But know this—if you fall in Kur, I won't release you as I did my foolish sister. Your soul will remain bound in the Underworld forever."
With a sharp sweep of her crimson cloak, Ereshkigal strode past Ophis toward Kutha.
"I'll be waiting for you—on the throne of death."
"Then wait patiently."
Without looking back, Ophis began her descent from the hill, heading once more toward Uruk.
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