At the deepest layer of the dark and desolate underworld, only cold stone remained.
Flickering ghostly blue flames provided the sole illumination.
These faint lights were the lingering warmth of departed souls—the only source of brightness in this shadowed realm.
Within this dim glow, amidst a temple built from scattered stones and enveloped in desolation, the goddess of the underworld, Ereshkigal, raised her head from her throne. Beneath cascades of golden hair, a delicate expression of disbelief spread across her face.
She…could hardly believe it.
The voice had reached her clearly, both its source and its words unmistakable.
Someone from the mortal world said they… admired her?
Moreover, that voice, that presence, felt remarkably familiar to a goddess eternally confined to the silent darkness.
Is it you… the one who brought daylight back into my sight once more?
She closed her eyes gently, deep in thought.
Have you truly been admiring me?
For Ereshkigal, the word "admiration" was both familiar and utterly alien.
Gods were admired constantly, for admiration itself was a form of worship. Gods basked in humanity's reverence, becoming symbols of faith through their splendor.
But that was true only for ordinary gods.
As the goddess of the underworld, Ereshkigal was shunned by her divine kin, feared and loathed by mortals as an incarnation of death itself.
She was never worshipped, let alone admired.
Yet now, someone claimed to admire her.
And it was the very same person who, after countless years, had torn open a gap between the underworld and the mortal realm, allowing her to glimpse the faintest light of humanity once again.
Who is he?
Did he tear open this rift… just for her?
She wanted to know.
She wanted to see him, to behold his appearance, to gaze upon his face.
She wished… to visit the world of the living.
An icy wind howled suddenly through the depths of the underworld.
The goddess's figure remained upon her throne—
But her spirit had already drifted upward, toward the mortal realm—
...
"You…" After a long silence, Ishtar's voice rang out once again in the narrow alley of Uruk. "Are you serious?"
Time had flowed by unnoticed, the last rays of sunlight disappearing beneath the horizon, replaced by the vast darkness of the night sky, scattered with countless stars shimmering like rivers of silver. A pale moonbeam slipped quietly between buildings, illuminating Rovi's figure.
Looking at Ishtar's conflicted face—shocked, angry, and complicated—he raised his lips into a slight smile. "Do I have any reason to deceive you?"
"Don't underestimate me, goddess—I was a priest of Uruk's temple, after all."
Indeed, at this moment, Ishtar was still unaware of Rovi's earlier act of defiance against the gods, his rebellion against those who sought to dictate his fate. From her perspective, he was merely a young priest, devotedly serving at the temple, unlikely to lie about something like this.
Thus—
If you're going to strike, hurry up and do it!
After all, I'm merely a mortal who openly mocks you, cares nothing for you, yet dares to admire your sister instead…
Exploiting this information gap, Rovi spread his arms casually, presenting himself openly, ready for whatever might come.
Yet all he received from Ishtar was a soft, weary sigh—as if her earlier shock and anger had been nothing but illusions.
Rovi paused, somewhat stunned.
Did it fail after all?
He wasn't surprised.
He'd already known that Ishtar, influenced deeply by Rin Tohsaka's humanity, wouldn't kill him just for that.
In Rovi's predictions, she would either erupt in fury or succumb to melancholy upon hearing his words.
"She already heard you," Ishtar said mysteriously.
Night air flowed gently, the moonlight like frost.
As the goddess's words faded, Rovi watched in astonishment as her figure seemed to distort before his very eyes—
It was as if two shadows had merged into one, similar yet distinctly different.
"She heard your words. Deep down, she longs to see you," Ishtar whispered softly, her voice drifting on the night breeze. "But she's also afraid."
The goddess's scarlet eyes were filled with complicated emotions.
For her sister who dwelled eternally imprisoned at the bottom of the underworld, Ishtar had always felt sympathy.
Yet as a daughter of the heavens, the mistress of Venus, she could never set foot in the underworld, just as her sister could never leave it.
Beyond sympathy, she also felt a lingering fear toward Eresh.
Yet now, for the first time, someone had openly proclaimed admiration for her sister—the goddess of death, whom others only feared and shunned.
Something even Ishtar herself had never done.
And he said it aloud.
Resolutely and without hesitation, for all to hear.
Perhaps it was due to these conflicting emotions that Ishtar once again rekindled the deep spiritual bond she once shared with Eresh—one long severed through the ages.
She knew Eresh had heard Rovi's words.
Eresh had felt moved.
She wanted to see him for herself.
Thus, Ishtar allowed a part of Eresh's consciousness to enter her body, just as she herself had descended by possessing her current host.
Their shadows overlapped into one.
And now—
"She's here," Ishtar murmured quietly, "but she's afraid to meet you directly."
"She only wishes to see you."
"To see the only mortal who ever admired her."
"And then she will leave."
The overlapping shadow gradually separated from Ishtar, forming a blurry, ethereal figure—very similar to Ishtar herself, yet distinct. Although indistinct, Rovi could clearly see the golden hair cascading down and the same scarlet eyes.
Eresh.
Or rather—the goddess of the Underworld.
Ereshkigal.
Like Ishtar, she had descended temporarily into this body through possession.
Yet she did not fully manifest.
Just as Ishtar had explained, Eresh merely wanted a brief glimpse, to witness the only mortal who had ever openly admired her.
She feared if Rovi actually touched her presence, he would recoil in fear, utterly destroying that fragile admiration.
Such a…
Rovi wasn't quite sure how to describe this personality.
Eresh was truly the polar opposite of her sister.
But at that moment, the gentle breeze swirling around them suddenly grew icy cold, darkness thickening like a curtain, concealing the figure of the Underworld's mistress and obscuring her into a faint, shadowy silhouette.
The goddess of the Underworld's arrival naturally brought the chill winds of death from her dark domain.
They formed an impenetrable barrier, separating the living from the dead.
A wall no mortal could cross—
—Except.
Ereshkigal's appearance wasn't unexpected to Rovi; in fact, it was exactly what he wanted.
Indeed, death—representing the end of all things—was terrifying, whether to mortals, objects, or even gods.
But Rovi was different.
He deeply yearned for death itself!
How could he possibly let this opportunity slip away?
He'd come this far.
Could he really let her escape now?
Rovi stepped forward resolutely, stretching out his hand to touch the frigid winds of the underworld.
His heart raced in excitement.
Right here, right now—this was the closest he'd come to death since the day he transmigrated into this world.