Once again, something was descending from the heavens where the gods dwelled.
Rovi recognized this immediately.
He couldn't say exactly what it was—but as a transmigrator, Rovi naturally possessed a perspective far beyond this era.
He knew the stories that would be told in later generations, of events on the Mesopotamian plains, in Uruk.
He knew that Gilgamesh would one day be remembered as the oldest of hero kings.
So Rovi knew, too, that Gilgamesh was not always alone.
Later on, he would have a companion named Enkidu, a human-shaped weapon molded by the gods from clay.
Is it Enkidu this time?
Or maybe—the goddess Aruru, who shaped Enkidu's body from earth to carry the power of the gods herself?
In theory, Enkidu's appearance was indeed due soon.
But now was not the time to dig into that, because, for the moment, whoever or whatever it was wouldn't affect Rovi's plans in any meaningful way.
Right now, he had something else to deal with…
"You said, after I left, the gods bestowed a relic upon me?"
With night not yet fallen, Rovi had returned to the temple. He'd only meant to pack up and bid farewell to the elderly priests who had cared for him—but the High Priest stopped him with this news right away.
"Yes."
Firelight flickered in the chamber where Rovi had once inscribed cuneiform tablets. The room's stone walls were stacked with neat blocks, the floors carved with countless intricate patterns of the gods. There, the thin and aged priest regarded the young Rovi, and nodded.
He said, "Rovi, your sincerity moved the heavens. The great and merciful gods pitied your struggles and granted you a divine relic—"
Rovi wanted to say "no, thank you," but after a moment's thought, he held back.
Might as well see what it is first.
"I don't know exactly what it is, either," the priest said. "But the gods told me, as long as I gave it to you, you'd understand."
He could see the uncertainty in Rovi's eyes, so he placed the item into Rovi's hand.
It was… a key?
Rovi took the crystal object—barely the size of a finger—and blinked in surprise.
There was no doubt: the "divine relic" the High Priest mentioned was a key.
And the instant he touched it, a rush of information poured out from the key itself, letting Rovi instinctively understand its name and function.
The Key of Heaven?
Gilgamesh served as the "Wedge of Heaven"—the link between gods and mortals.
Enkidu, soon to come, would be the "Chains of Heaven," created to restore the bond between Gilgamesh and the gods.
And now, what the gods had given Rovi was something similar.
A key that could cross the boundary between heaven and earth.
There was no mistaking it: the gods meant for Rovi, like Enkidu, to become an important "bond" guiding Gilgamesh back to the path of wisdom.
Those guys… They really have high hopes for me!
Rovi pocketed the key, without refusing.
Thank goodness it wasn't some artifact of immortality. The Key of Heaven's main function was simply to free Rovi from the gods' suppression—he could act freely anywhere, unaffected by divine power. That, at least, was useful.
And after all, in every age, the heroes the gods pinned their hopes on often met tragic ends.
Either dying gloriously in some calamity,
Or vanishing like a shooting star—leaving behind only regret.
That was exactly what Rovi wanted.
So this flag—he'd gladly take!
"Thank you, High Priest." Rovi turned to the old man and bowed solemnly. "Thank you for everything."
The High Priest paused, then smiled.
"I always hoped you would inherit my place as High Priest of this country."
He said, "But perhaps this is for the best. The stage beside the king is far larger than this one!"
"Go on—pursue your ideals, hero!"
Rovi smiled and nodded.
Whatever the future might hold, at least these people had always been sincere with him, and Rovi would not disregard their kindness.
And with that…
It was time to set out!
---
"Ahhh—just what is inner beauty, anyway?"
In a remote corner of Uruk, inside a grand and secluded temple, gems embedded in the domed ceiling caught and scattered the light, illuminating the opulent hall.
A goddess, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, sat directly on the floor. Her chest rose and fell slightly; she crossed her legs, gesturing idly with delicate hands.
Her beautiful face was troubled.
"Lady Ishtar… what's wrong?"
Beside the goddess, an attendant priest couldn't help but voice her concern—only to be cut off by Ishtar's scolding.
"Silence! Don't disturb me!"
No matter how anxious or conflicted she was, the dignity of a goddess remained something mortals could not challenge.
The attendant shrank back, dropping to her knees, trembling.
Seeing this, Ishtar couldn't help but curl her lips in a pout, falling into deep thought.
After her bold intrusion into Gilgamesh's palace earlier that day—and being thoroughly mocked by Rovi—the goddess of beauty, always proud of her charm, had been thoroughly provoked.
She wanted to make Rovi yield, to make him acknowledge her beauty and submit at her feet.
So afterward, back in her temple, Ishtar had been pondering Rovi's words ever since.
But this "inner beauty"…
She just didn't get it.
"I have a question for you," Ishtar finally decided, after a while.
Since a mortal had brought it up, asking a mortal should lead her to the answer.
Ishtar's crisp voice rang out in the temple, aloof and indifferent: "Do you know what 'inner beauty' means?"
"Yes, my lady." The attendant shrank back again. "Whatever the gods say is beautiful is beautiful. To obey the gods, to follow their will, that is beauty of the soul—"
"Wrong!" Ishtar cut her off.
For all her willfulness, she was still a goddess. How could she not hear that the answer was just empty flattery, meant to keep her pleased?
But…
You understand. You just don't dare say it.
Ishtar clapped her hands, making up her mind in an instant.
This priestess, at least, had some idea of what Rovi meant by "inner beauty."
She knew—humans understood.
As a goddess, Ishtar herself did not. And except for Rovi, perhaps no one else would dare speak plainly to her.
But there was no way Ishtar would ask Rovi—not when that would mean admitting defeat.
She couldn't ask others, but that didn't mean she couldn't ask herself.
After all, the vessel she currently inhabited was a human body.
If she couldn't seek answers from others, she could seek them from within.
"Release the humanity that's always been suppressed by divinity in this body." Ishtar made her decision.
Let humanity rise to the surface—
With a human perspective, and the wisdom of a goddess, she'd surely understand soon enough what "inner beauty" meant to mortals.
And then—
Rovi… very soon, I'll make you kneel at my feet!
You'll swallow every last word you mocked me with!
A spark of confidence flashed in Ishtar's crimson, jewel-like eyes.