Playing As The Hero King At The End

A human had slain a god?

Was such a thing even possible? It seemed like a tale too fantastical to be true.

To Brynhildr, the idea was almost laughable. Humans, no matter how strong, could never kill a god.

Yet, she had proposed the Ragnarok—a one-on-one battle between gods and humans—because she believed humans could win.

How?

Because she had a secret plan. Without it, humans stood no chance against the gods.

So, when she overheard the Babylonian gods discussing a human who had successfully slain a god, she was stunned.

If such a feat had truly occurred, why was it unknown to most gods? Only the Babylonian pantheon seemed to know.

From their fragmented conversation, Brynhildr pieced together the reason: shame.

A god, slain by a human? It was a joke, a disgrace to the entire pantheon.

Especially since the slain god was a significant figure in the Babylonian pantheon.

To avoid ridicule, the Babylonians had buried the incident.

As for the human who had slain the god, he had been executed by divine retribution.

That human was Gilgamesh, one of the three great heroes of Sumer and the fifth king of Uruk.

In the ancient epic "The Epic of Gilgamesh", he was described as the son of the goddess Ninsun, a demigod with superhuman strength.

In other words, like Brynhildr, he was a half-human, half-god.

But was this truly the case?

Now, Brynhildr began to question the accuracy of the records.

In truth, the gods' records of human history over seven million years were riddled with inconsistencies. Some entries seemed like hearsay.

As gods, they saw no need to meticulously document every detail of human life—a testament to their arrogance.

So, which god had Gilgamesh slain?

It was Anu, the chief god of the Babylonian pantheon.

How could a chief god be slain by a human? What had happened?

Brynhildr, now in the Akashic Records Chamber, summoned the divine system that documented human history.

She began her search.

First, she entered the keyword: "Human slaying a god."

Huh? Several results appeared.

There were many instances of humans slaying gods? That couldn't be right.

She opened one of the virtual files to examine the details.

Ah, it wasn't the kind of god-slaying she had imagined.

Some humans, believing themselves powerful, had arrogantly taken on the names of gods. When they were killed by others, it was recorded as "god-slaying."

All the results were similar—humans killing other humans who had claimed to be gods.

Next, she searched for "Gilgamesh."

The relevant files appeared, and she skimmed through them. The records matched what she already knew.

"Sister Brynhildr, I'm back."

A cheerful voice interrupted her thoughts as the door opened. It was her youngest sister, Grei.

Grei carefully closed the door behind her, ensuring no one had followed.

"Well?" Brynhildr asked, her voice low.

She had sent Grei to gather information.

"I found out that Anu, the chief god of the Babylonian pantheon, has missed the last four Conferences on the Survival of Humanity."

"Really?"

Four absences—starting after Gilgamesh's time.

Brynhildr bit her thumb, a sly smile spreading across her face.

If the records were accurate, why had she never seen this King Gilgamesh in all these years?

He was a legend, but no one had actually seen him.

Rumors claimed he was too arrogant to appear before anyone, but to remain unseen for thousands of years?

Something was off.

Moreover, if Gilgamesh were truly a demigod like her, he wouldn't qualify as one of the 13 humans for Ragnarok.

But if the records were false, and he was purely human, he would be a perfect candidate.

A human who had slain a chief god? Brynhildr had to recruit him.

With him on their side, humanity would already have one victory secured.

The thought made her laugh.

"Ahahahaha!"

Brynhildr's laughter echoed through the chamber.

"S-Sister Brynhildr, what's wrong?"

Grei was startled by her sister's sudden outburst. Today had been full of surprises, from Brynhildr's audacious challenge to the gods to her current laughter.

"Nothing, I'm just... thrilled."

Thrilled at the thought of seeing the gods' stunned faces during Ragnarok.

"Thrilled?"

"Yes. I may have found the first human capable of slaying a god."

Grei's face paled. "Sister, please don't say such blasphemous things!"

"Shh, keep it down, Grei."

But Brynhildr was certain. She had found her first candidate.

"Let's go, Grei."

"Where to?"

"To meet the King!"

A window popped up, displaying a photo and information about the person in question.

"To the Hall of Heroes?"

"No, to his era."

The Hall of Heroes wouldn't have him. Brynhildr intended to travel back in time to witness the truth herself.

She wanted to see how the Hero King had slain a god.

***

The priest's fearful gaze made Bai Yue—now Gilgamesh—smirk.

But then, a strange sensation made him frown. It felt as if someone was watching him.

The gaze wasn't hostile, but it was unsettling.

Was someone spying on him?

Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the room. The soldiers clearing the bodies occasionally glanced at him, but they quickly looked away, trembling.

They were afraid of him, terrified he might curse them next.

Fear was an excellent tool for ruling.

No, not just fear—terror. Terror was far more effective.

After a thorough scan, he found nothing unusual. Yet, the feeling of being watched persisted.

It was as if the watcher was standing right in front of him, bold and unashamed, yet invisible.

Close. Very close.

To his right, perhaps?

Pretending not to notice, he stood up and casually drew his dagger. He began polishing it with a cloth, as if merely admiring the blade.

"S-Sister Brynhildr…"

Grei was panicking. The ruler of Uruk, the Hero King of Sumer, was right in front of her.

They were so close she could almost touch him.

The king, known for his cruelty in the records, was polishing his blade, its surface gleaming. She feared he might suddenly swing it at her.

"Has he noticed us?"

Brynhildr nodded slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Possibly."

Standing before the king in this era, Brynhildr could confirm one thing: he was human.

There was no divine aura around him. He wasn't the son of the goddess Ninsun, as the records claimed.

Gilgamesh wasn't a demigod. He was just a man.

And yet, he had used red orpiment to poison most of the Council of Elders and the Assembly of Citizens.

In this era, such an act, combined with his use of phosphorus to create ghostly flames, would be seen as a curse.

He had crafted an image of terror through mysticism.

"Huh?—Mmph!"

Grei nearly screamed but quickly covered her mouth.

In the next moment, a flash of cold light.

The king swung his blade horizontally, cutting through the air. A nearby shelf was struck and began to collapse.

"Ahhh! My head—it's still there?"

Grei screamed, frantically feeling her head and neck. No wounds. She was still in one piece.

Why the scream? Because the gleaming bronze dagger had sliced through her neck—or so it seemed.

More accurately, the sweeping slash had first cut through Brynhildr's waist before reaching Grei's neck.

A second later, Grei turned pale again. Her scream had drawn the king's attention.

With a swift motion, he flung the dagger. Before Grei could react, it pierced through her body and embedded itself in the ground.

"Mmph!"

Grei clamped her hands over her mouth, stifling another scream.

There was no doubt. The Hero King could vaguely sense their presence.

Only when she fell silent did his gaze shift away.

Once his attention was elsewhere, Grei relaxed, her legs giving out as she slumped to the floor.

She had almost wet herself.

Meanwhile, Brynhildr remained calm and composed, unfazed by the king's actions.

Why hadn't his attacks affected them?

Because they weren't in the same timeline.

It was like watching a holographic movie. The characters could attack, but their actions had no effect on the real world.

Since the events were already recorded, they couldn't be altered.

Brynhildr and Grei were merely observing Gilgamesh's story, unable to change history.

If history could be changed, the Babylonian gods would have already traveled back in time to save their slain chief god.

But altering history was against the rules set by the gods.

Even if they could change history, they couldn't bring back the dead chief god.

His soul had been utterly destroyed, erased from existence.

No resurrection, reincarnation, or time travel could undo that.

So, how had the Hero King slain Anu, the chief god of the Babylonian pantheon?

Had Brynhildr misheard?

"Let's go, Grei."

"Huh? Where to?"

Grei whispered, hiding behind her sister.

"To the time when the Bull of Heaven was slain."

The goddess Ishtar, captivated by Gilgamesh's charm, had proposed to him. But he rejected her.

Enraged, Ishtar asked her father, Anu, to send the Bull of Heaven—a creature that brought drought—to exact revenge.

Yet, Gilgamesh had slain the bull.

How?

The Bull of Heaven wasn't something a human of that era could kill.

With modern human technology, perhaps. But in ancient times? Impossible.

Brynhildr wanted to see the Hero King's power for herself.

As for whether she believed he had truly slain a chief god, her confidence had grown after accessing the Akashic Records.

Normally, she wouldn't have access to this system, which documented the histories of all pantheons.

But the proposal of Ragnarok—the battle between gods and humans—had granted her full access.

Upon entering the Hero King's history, she found it locked. Other pantheons needed Babylonian approval to view it.

But now, with her new permissions, she could access it freely.

Why was the Hero King's history locked? There had to be a secret.

***

Uruk was alive with excitement.

The entire city was in a state of jubilation, as if celebrating the grandest festival in history.

The sound of horns echoed through the streets, and the citizens instinctively cleared the main road.

At the city gates, a triumphant army was returning.

From initial distrust and unease, the people's feelings had shifted to fear, and now, to outright worship.

The man leading the army was their king—Gilgamesh.

Since ascending the throne, Gilgamesh had implemented numerous reforms that propelled Uruk into unprecedented prosperity. Agriculture flourished, making Uruk the most powerful agricultural nation in the region.

Through trade and commerce, the kingdom's overall strength had grown exponentially.

Military reforms had also led to the development of formidable weapons.

Then came the challenge from Kish, a powerful neighboring kingdom.

King Agga of Kish had demanded that Gilgamesh send workers to dig wells and build canals for Kish, offering nothing in return.

Arrogantly, Agga threatened war if Uruk refused.

So, war it was.

Initially, many believed Uruk stood no chance against Kish's might.

But no one could have predicted that Uruk's army would soon lay siege to Kish's capital.

Uruk's soldiers were better equipped than Kish's finest troops. Even the elite hundred-man guard of King Agga, renowned for their superior gear, found themselves outmatched by Uruk's standard-issue equipment.

Uruk's specialized archer corps, with their razor-sharp arrows and incredible range, were particularly devastating. Without metal shields, Kish's soldiers had no defense.

And then there were the siege engines—massive contraptions that allowed Uruk's soldiers to scale Kish's walls with ease, leading to the city's swift fall.

Now, the victorious army was returning, and the mighty kingdom of Kish had submitted to Uruk.

Out of the four thousand soldiers who had marched to war, only five hundred had fallen. In contrast, Kish had lost over two thousand men.

"That man… could it be—"

"It's King Agga of Kish!"

"No doubt about it, it's King Agga!"

A prisoner cart carried a disheveled, defeated man. Despite his ragged appearance, he still exuded an air of authority.

Behind him, on a grand war chariot, sat a figure who gazed down at the crowd with an air of superiority.

That man was their king—Gilgamesh.

The crowd erupted in cheers, celebrating the king who had led Uruk to dominance.

King Agga, now a prisoner, was taken to Uruk's execution platform, where his life came to an end.

Atop the temple ziggurat, where the statue of the goddess Ishtar once stood, there was now an empty space.

Years ago, the disappearance of the statue would have caused panic throughout Uruk.

But under Gilgamesh's rule, the people had grown less reliant on the gods.

Instead, they began to see their king as a god-like figure, whose wisdom had brought unparalleled prosperity to their land.

As Gilgamesh ascended the ziggurat to address his people, a soldier rushed up to him.

"My king, armies from Lagash, Ur, and Nippur are marching toward Uruk!"

The report elicited cruel smiles from those in the hall.

"Heh, isn't this perfect?"

"They're delivering themselves to us!"

"No need to find an excuse to attack!"

Uruk's expansion had naturally made it a target for neighboring city-states. Now, they had a reason to strike.

Of course, the attack was expected. Uruk's dominance had disrupted the trade of Lagash, Ur, and Nippur.

"My king, I request command over Lagash!"

"Then I'll take Ur!"

"Nippur is mine!"

"Wait, you three are taking all the fun. What about us?"

"No, Lagash should be mine. I've studied it the most."

The hall erupted into chaos.

"Enough!"

The king's lazy yet commanding voice silenced the room.

"You take Lagash. You handle Ur. And you, Nippur. Don't disappoint me."

No one dared to argue. The king's word was absolute.

As expected, the armies of Lagash, Ur, and Nippur were swiftly defeated, and the three city-states fell under Uruk's control.

***

"90%."

[Current Progress: 90%]

The card in his vision was almost fully restored, with only a small corner still petrified.

However, the progress had stalled at 90% even before the conquest of Lagash, Ur, and Nippur.

What was missing?

Enkidu? He hadn't encountered anyone by that name.

The Bull of Heaven incident?

That involved the goddess Ishtar, the deity once worshipped in Uruk.

Did gods truly exist? Gilgamesh wasn't sure, but he had often felt a presence watching him—likely a god.

He was certain of one thing: this wasn't the Type-Moon universe.

Suddenly, a woman appeared before him without warning.

She was dressed provocatively, her gaze haughty and condescending, as if she were looking at a new pet.

Her eyes made him want to gouge them out.

Was this the goddess Ishtar?

If he clashed with her, he had only one chance to win—a reward he had received after reaching 50% progress.