Priest in the Temple

The night sky was covered, studded with brilliant stars like countless eyes, gazing down upon the majestic Uruk City-State standing tall on the ground.

At the same time, in the heart of this city-state, within a side chamber of the temple dedicated to the worship of the gods.

Under the illumination of the burning bonfire, Rovi, a young man with black hair and black eyes, held a neatly arranged clay tablet for recording.

He was carefully carving characters onto it with a knife.

"Rovi, thank you for your hard work carving these sacrificial texts for tomorrow's ceremony."

Beside him, someone spoke, their voice deep and hoarse, as ancient as the person themselves: "I'm old now, my eyes can't see clearly anymore. In the future, this position of High Priest will have to be passed on to you."

This statement sounded much like those superiors in later generations who made empty promises, but Rovi knew the old man wasn't lying.

He was indeed old, and his current physical condition was no longer suitable for him to hold the crucial position of High Priest of Uruk for long.

And as one of the few young people in the temple, who understood writing and could clearly remember the honorific titles of every deity in Uruk, he was indeed the only candidate to succeed him.

If that weren't the case, The old man wouldn't have entrusted such an important task as carving sacrificial texts for the ceremony to him, after only meeting him a few times.

It should be known that in the year since he transmigrated, although Rovi had shown considerable talent, he was limited by his seniority and wasn't particularly outstanding among the many officiating priests. This kind of task shouldn't have fallen to him.

This was a clear hint.

So upon hearing this, Rovi immediately looked up and replied, looking at the other person: "Don't worry, this is what I should be doing."

"Such a fine young man." The old man sighed, then slowly got up. His frail, bone-thin frame, hidden beneath the distinctive linen robe of a High Priest, swayed slightly, his beard and hair trembling.

"You continue, I won't disturb you. Get some rest early, you'll need to preside over the ceremony in my stead tomorrow."

"If only the King had your calm disposition..." he muttered as he walked towards the door, filled with regret and helplessness.

But he knew himself that this was impossible.

In this country, everyone knew that Uruk's current King, Gilgamesh, was arrogant and unrestrained, acting as he pleased. Not only towards his subordinates and subjects, but even when facing the gods, he dared to express his dissatisfaction and disdain directly.

Of course, the old man's relief and helplessness stemmed from his old age and failing eyesight. He couldn't see the characters Rovi was carving, let alone know the great risk this young man was about to take—

What Rovi was writing was not a sacrificial text for the gods at all.

It was a 'memorial', A piece of advice to the King, from the position of a subject.

Every word was filled with Rovi's regret for the nation of Uruk, his sympathy for the people of Uruk, and his reprimand of Gilgamesh, the young tyrant... It couldn't be called disrespectful; it was simply blunt.

Rovi had no intention of performing any sacrifices to the gods.

He just wanted to thoroughly scold the so-called King who always had a condescending attitude.

"This way, I should be able to leave my mark on Human Order and then die, right?"

With a bit of guilt for concealing it from the old man as he sent him out of the room, Rovi returned to the clay tablet. Under the flickering firelight, he looked at the characters carved on it and couldn't help but laugh.

The reason he wrote these characters wasn't truly for this country or its people. As a transmigrator, he was inexperienced and didn't have that deep a sense of belonging yet.

He simply wanted to die.

—Yes.

Although it was a city-state on the Mesopotamian plain, Rovi, having already seen the King of Uruk, Gilgamesh, with his golden hair, radiant beauty, and god-like appearance, knew that this was not just the Uruk he had seen in history textbooks, but the Uruk of the Nasuverse.

In this world, all things originated from the Root, and all things would eventually flow back to the Root.

The Root was the beginning of the world, and also its end.

Any action to enter or leave required passing through the Root.

As a transmigrator, when Rovi arrived, he naturally passed through it.

But he wasn't just passing through.

Although his consciousness was in a state where he couldn't fully think due to the disturbance of spacetime turbulence, he saw many things within the Root.

The Root was the state of all that is and all that is not.

Being within it, one could also access the fundamental knowledge of all that is and all that is not.

So, at that time, he knew this was the Nasuverse. He also knew that outside the Vortex of the Root, on the 'inevitable path' he was about to pass through to enter the world, there was a mysterious and magnificent 'Seat'.

A corner of the record that chronicles all phenomena, the 'Throne of Heroes'.

The Throne of Heroes recorded all the 'heroes' in human history, from ancient times to the present, with traces inscribed for outstanding figures from every different evolutionary branch of reality.

At that moment, Rovi was about to leave the Root and descend into the Nasuverse.

Being within the Root, he was nearly omniscient and omnipotent. But precisely because of this, Rovi also understood that he could not take this power originating from the Root with him, and his physical body, which would manifest after descending into the world, could not withstand such vast knowledge and power.

So, he inscribed this power and knowledge onto the 'Throne of Heroes' that he passed by.

At the very top of the Throne of Heroes, he carved out a 'Seat' that occupied the pinnacle of Human Order, a seat only he could occupy.

This was also what he, as a transmigrator from a later era in another world to this world, possessed, what could be called his 'Golden Finger'.

"Although it's a bit of a shame to lose that power, as long as I can leave my name in Human Order and die an unnatural, non-suicidal death, I'll be recognized by the Throne of Heroes and reach it once more—"

"To take that seat, and reclaim the authority and power that rightfully belong to me..."

With that power, The Throne of Heroes would naturally no longer restrict him; instead, it would become his domain.

This was the true reason he had inscribed this 'edict,' meticulously planned, and prepared for this grand death!

As the first person in history to insult a tyrant under the guise of a subject, Rovi believed he had sufficiently left his mark on Human Order.

Ascending to the Throne of Heroes after death was only natural.

However, he had to be careful during this process.

This matter could not be revealed to anyone. After all, this world still possessed a natural consciousness known as the Counter Force. If they discovered his intentions, it would likely be impossible for him to die an unnatural death, no matter what.

Furthermore, to ensure his true self reached the Throne of Heroes, rather than some entity impersonating him or a fabricated existence taking credit for his achievements, Rovi had to die immediately after establishing his great deeds, and it couldn't be suicide.

Therefore, under these various requirements, Rovi had to check everything thoroughly once more...

He had to make sure his insults were harsh enough.

Ideally, they should reach a point where the King would be so enraged that he couldn't be appeased.

There could be no mistakes.

With this thought, Rovi picked up the small knife used for carving stone tablets, sat by the bonfire, and meticulously began his review.

As time passed, the dim night sky outside gradually revealed a hint of light.

Dawn broke, with wisps of faint light piercing the darkness.

Day had arrived.

The once quiet Uruk City-State, within its streets of rammed earth and stone, gradually began to show signs of life.

Rovi's body swayed, and he was nudged, jolted back from carving the stone tablet.

"Priest Rovi," a young temple subordinate called out to him, waking him respectfully. "The old priest has asked for you at the Pantheon; the ceremony is about to begin!"

Only then did he realize it was already daytime.

"I understand," Rovi said, clutching the stone tablet with both hands and nodding. "I'll be there shortly."