Divine Messenger? King's Aide?

That was it—Rovi remembered now. Gilgamesh's wisdom was also what the gods desired.

As a demigod, Gilgamesh had always been the gods' representative in the mortal world.

The wiser he became,

the more it proved that even if the gods could not descend into the present world in their true forms, they could still shelter its people.

Then, no matter how much time passed, the faith the gods had left among humanity would remain as steadfast as ever.

That was precisely the purpose of a so-called "keystone."

And in the eyes of the gods, what Rovi had just done would undoubtedly play a major role in guiding Gilgamesh onto the path of wisdom.

So even though he had unexpectedly interrupted the Festival of All Gods, the gods would not blame him.

That was the outcome after weighing both sides.

But precisely because he understood everything, Rovi felt even more like crying without tears.

What was this supposed to be...? How had things gone so far from what he had expected?

Rovi forcibly suppressed the flood of complaints in his heart, came back to his senses, and looked ahead again.

The light within the temple remained unchanged. Surrounded by countless towering statues, the divine decree had faded away with its radiance after being delivered, and the priests slowly rose to their feet.

"High Priest..." Rovi looked at the old man.

The old man looked back at him.

Then he slowly extended a withered arm from beneath his linen robe, lifted its hem, and respectfully said, "We pay respects to the Divine Messenger."

The moment the old man spoke, the other priests immediately reacted as well.

They all bowed and saluted him.

Praised and acknowledged by the gods, and granted the gods' promise—did that not make Rovi the equivalent of a Divine Messenger?

Such a status stood far above that of any priest.

In some respects, it was enough to rival a king.

Of course, that was only in certain respects. The practical gap remained enormous—the King of Uruk controlled the city-state's military, civil affairs, diplomacy, religion, and countless other matters. His authority was firmly held, allowing no room for doubt.

But even a symbolic status close to that of the king was already something unique to Uruk.

The problem was that this was not what Rovi wanted.

He sighed. "High Priest, priests, there is no need to be so polite. I was merely lucky."

Not knowing what he truly thought, the others saw not the slightest hint of joy on his face. They all nodded to themselves, praising this young man's steady temperament, far beyond that of ordinary people.

What they did not know was that all the happiness was theirs, while Rovi had nothing at all.

But things had reached this point, and Rovi knew there was no use feeling helpless or regretful.

He did not have the power to turn back time.

So he could only keep trying—he had not died this time, but there would surely be plenty of chances in the future!

After all, the era Rovi was currently in could hardly be called peaceful.

Living was hard.

Was dying not easy?

Rovi pulled himself together again.

"By order of the king."

Such a voice came again from outside the temple.

Then a tall figure wearing a helmet and armor protecting his vital points strode inside.

That was the king's herald.

One of the King of Uruk's Royal Guard, specially tasked with delivering Gilgamesh's orders to every place.

His boots struck the temple floor, paved with smooth stone slabs, and his footsteps rang clearly through the empty hall.

The priests were all startled. Seeing the herald's aggressive bearing, they could not help but grow worried.

The king... could he be planning to punish Rovi again?

Gilgamesh had never done such a thing. Though the king was cruel, he had remained fairly faithful to his promises thus far.

Yet the priests, who had witnessed so many of his absurd acts, had long since stopped daring to guess what the king might do.

He was simply impossible to fathom—

Naturally, Rovi was also surprised. But before he could think deeply about Gilgamesh's sudden summons, the herald swept his gaze across everyone in the hall and began speaking on his own.

"By order of the king," he said. "Temple attendant Rovi, you committed grave insolence by directly confronting the great King of Uruk.

But the king is magnanimous. His heart is as vast as the sea of stars, and his wisdom shines like the stars themselves. He knows your intentions were good, so the king will not hold your rudeness against you. He even intends to promote you."

"The king orders you to become the king's aide. Beginning tomorrow, you are to attend the king at the Royal Palace of Uruk."

As expected of Gilgamesh's herald—he had inherited that same unbearable smugness...

Rovi was speechless.

He was somewhat disappointed that the man had not come to punish him, yet also somewhat pleased—

Serving at the king's side might have been a fine position under any other ruler.

But Gilgamesh was different.

To serve a ruler was to serve a tiger. Though that proverb did not yet exist in this age, Gilgamesh was undoubtedly its finest proof.

A king with mercurial moods was the most terrifying kind, because one never knew which careless action might offend him.

But that was exactly what Rovi wanted.

And on further thought, as the protagonist of the oldest epic, Gilgamesh would surely face no shortage of danger in the future.

Thus, after the herald left, it was Rovi, the "victim," who began comforting the many dejected priests.

"Gentlemen, do not be like this," he said loudly. "Serving at the king's side was my wish to begin with."

"It would be even better if I could make the king mend his ways."

He had to keep up the act. Since they already saw him in this light, continuing to play the part was only natural.

His words also brought the priests back to their senses.

"At my age, I am actually less open-minded than a young man." The old priest gave a bitter smile.

"So what if we cannot compare?" one priest said bluntly. "With so many people in Uruk, who could possibly compare to him?"

He had dared to speak directly before the king and had even earned the gods' approval.

In all of Uruk—even across the entire Mesopotamian Plain—he could be called one of a kind.

"By the way, little Rovi does not have a spouse yet, does he? What do you think of my granddaughter...?"

"Isn't your granddaughter only five or six? What are you even talking about?"

"What? They can get engaged first. Better than your daughter, who is already thirty or forty..."

The atmosphere suddenly became rather delicate.

Were people the same everywhere?

Even priests who served the gods were still, in the end, merely people.

This scene was much like those times before Rovi had transmigrated, when he encountered elders who thought highly of him.

But at this moment, Rovi's thoughts had already drifted far away, into the palace where the king resided.

It was time to establish a new plan...

"King."

Within the vast palace, on the throne at the top of ninety-nine steps, Gilgamesh, who had only recently returned from the temple, opened his eyes.

He shifted slightly upon the throne, his crimson gaze fixing on the speaker—

A woman with a veil over her face.

His current aide.

"Priest Rovi has accepted the order."

The aide said respectfully, "Also... within the Temple of Ishtar, someone found footprints upon the altar."

"They appear to indicate that... Goddess Ishtar has descended."

Gilgamesh's previously somewhat languid gaze changed at once.

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