A Forceful Rebuttal, The King Chosen By All People

This was a turn of events that no one could have foreseen, except for Rovi, who had long been plotting it.

Though the temple had fallen into a dead silence due to this sudden incident, anyone could feel...

The king's wrath was brewing.

This was an inevitable course.

Ever since Gilgamesh became king—no, more precisely, ever since he was born—no one had ever dared to rebuke him to his face, to insult him like this.

Not even his parents, the former king and the All-knowing Goddess, had ever done so.

"My king, this was an accident..."

The Old Priest stepped forward, his body trembling.

Though he felt his mind go completely blank in an instant, and he couldn't understand why Rovi, who had always seemed so respectful, would do such a thing, the old man was still in his position as High Priest. He felt it was his duty to quell the king's wrath.

Perhaps... Rovi had simply misread the clay tablet.

Even at this moment, he was still making excuses for Rovi in his heart.

But Gilgamesh merely glanced at him. Those scarlet serpentine eyes were as cold as the ice hidden deep in the underworld, and the chill they projected instantly rendered the old man speechless.

"Did This King permit you to speak, you ver—"

It was a word he used every day, but thinking of the text on the clay tablet in his hand, Gilgamesh found himself unable to finish.

Thus, his expression grew even uglier.

But the intimidation was obvious.

Beneath his crimson pupils, no one dared to speak. In an instant, all the priests, servants, and guards knelt down simultaneously.

Gilgamesh was a demigod King, and his wrath naturally came with a heavy pressure, making everyone tremble involuntarily.

Except for Rovi—after all, he had walked out from the Root. Though that power was now sealed on the Throne of Heroes, he had once grasped it, and Gilgamesh's threats meant nothing to him.

Rovi's heart was filled with joy.

The angrier Gilgamesh got, the happier he became.

And what showed on his face was a sneering, sarcastic smile.

Gilgamesh's gaze turned even colder.

"A mere ver... have you thought clearly about the consequences of offending the great and radiant This King? You base worm of a man!" he said coldly, surrounded by prostrate subjects.

The Crimson Circuit carved into his body began to glow with a dazzling light.

That was the sign of divine power in motion.

Compared to mortals, an immense and unparalleled force, the great power of the gods' bloodline manifested from nature itself.

"Who is not base?"

Rovi replied, unafraid of Gilgamesh's mounting fury—in fact, he was delighted: "Greatness is relative, baseness is eternal. I may be weaker than you, but compared to the gods, and the gods compared to the universe, who can be forever strong?"

"At least I have that awareness, while you do not—"

"O so-called Great King." Rovi's smile grew even brighter and more radiant, but to Gilgamesh's eyes, it was unbearably glaring.

"Do you only dare to point your weapons at your own subjects? Do you only dare to use your so-called kingly authority and power to oppress the ministers who serve you in obedience?"

Rovi had long prepared his words in his heart, so of course he wouldn't be left speechless at this critical moment.

He spoke with righteous indignation:

"Do you know what a king is?"

"A true king is one who protects his subjects. A true king is one who shelters his land.

But what have you done?

You call yourself king, yet you only bully your subordinates, oppress the unarmed common people. You are cruel, tyrannical, measuring everything in the world by your own standards, disregarding the rich and poor of your subjects, trampling on the dignity of those under your rule."

"You treat the nation as your private property, manipulating it at will. You treat the people as your playthings, disposing of them based on your whims."

"Do you deserve to be king?"

"Gilgamesh... you really are nothing but a piece of trash!"

With passion and emotion, Rovi's handsome face flushed slightly, as if from excitement.

Gilgamesh's expression shifted from cold to calm.

Calling the king by his name directly was high treason in Uruk.

Yet Gilgamesh did not rage or lose his temper. Instead, he seemed to suddenly grow calm—but almost everyone knew... this was the true sign that Gilgamesh was about to erupt.

He had always been the one to call others trash.

Today, the tables had turned.

Yet somehow, the words Rovi spoke stirred a genuine resonance deep within the prostrate subjects around him.

The unbridled Gilgamesh was indeed exactly as Rovi had described.

A cruel, tyrannical, and capricious king—disdainful toward those above, oppressive toward those below—he made the citizens of Uruk suffer beyond words.

These were truths known to all in Uruk.

But in times past, no one dared to voice them before Gilgamesh, no one dared to accuse him thus.

Except for Rovi.

At this very moment, in this very place, Rovi!

He was risking his life to plead for the people of Uruk; he was risking his life to point out the king's errors—

The crowd suddenly understood.

The Old Priest, at the same time, wept with aged tears.

He had not misjudged this man!

Compared to himself, who only thought of prolonging Uruk's existence as best he could, Rovi's approach was more direct, more fierce.

He loved this country more than himself, more than anyone else.

"Are you done speaking?"

Cold and hard, the ruler of Uruk spoke, his expression feigning indifference, but in his echoing voice, the Crimson Circuit—the symbol of divine power—glowed all the more brilliantly.

As a grave offense against the king, he would now mete out severe punishment to this insolent man!

But where an ordinary man might fear, Rovi instead welcomed it.

He even feared that the punishment might be too light, that he might not die.

So he had to stoke the flames further.

"Done? Of course not!"

"Gilgamesh, do you think that because you were chosen by heaven as king, you can act without restraint? Do you think that with your demigod power, you can bully the weak?"

"No, you cannot."

"No one can!"

"Uruk is a city built by humans, a homeland we raised from nothing with our own hands, bearing earth and clay."

"This is our home, our nation."

"Our king should be decided by the people."

"You—"

"Are unworthy!"

Crack, crack, crack... At that very moment, the clay tablet still clenched in Gilgamesh's hand, after more and larger fissures emerged, swelled and shattered completely, scattering into countless jagged fragments across the temple floor.

Rovi felt a slight regret—regret that he couldn't keep a 'physical' proof of his performance.

But it was enough.

As the first death-by-admonition in Human History, Rovi believed he would surely be recorded in the annals.

So next...

"Though I stand alone, you may kill me, but I believe that after my death, the people will not stop."

"In the future, someone will surely rise up against your cruelty."

Rovi would leave these words behind, as his final, decisive declaration, to be passed down through the ages.

He would earn himself a spectacular, roaring death!