Ishtar had suffered a mental breakdown. Something like this was nothing more than a trivial matter. Given how sensitive that woman was, a few minor frustrations piling up might have been enough to make her lose her composure a dozen times over.
But because her breakdown had awakened the High God, this was no longer a trivial matter.
The High God's wrath was undoubtedly the most terrifying thing in all of Mesopotamia.
Annanu and Enkidu exchanged a glance, each seeing the gravity in the other's eyes.
"Gil, what can we do?"
Annanu's tone was somewhat strained.
"There should still be room to salvage this, right?"
Enkidu clenched his fists, a fine layer of cold sweat already appearing uncontrollably over his body.
No one had expected things to develop to this extent.
Gilgamesh rose to his feet, blocking out the sunlight, a hint of weariness on his face.
"Hoping that humans and gods can understand one another is impossible." He lowered his head slightly and sighed. "Humans will ultimately only ever be seen by the gods as resources and tools. And for humans, the gods have long since become a burden—a burden attached to humanity as a whole."
"Even if they are our creators."
It was not a reasonable thing to say.
Yet it was indeed the truth.
Gilgamesh understood this profoundly, because he was the king of Uruk. From a lofty perspective and with far-reaching vision, he could objectively observe the reality of how everything had developed.
The gods held authority over every aspect of the world. Having taken on the world itself, they should have made this world, and every race dependent upon them, live better lives. Yet they had become oppressors, useless parasites that knew only how to suck blood from humanity and the world.
That was Gilgamesh's