Please, Let Me Ascend to the Throne of Heroes! [32]

“Though it’s just the ramblings of a stray mongrel, this king shall reluctantly acknowledge your idea!”

Gilgamesh paused for just a brief moment after Rovi had spoken, quickly rendering his verdict.

His words sounded harsh.

Yet his expression clearly revealed excitement.

He seemed practically eager to start.

Truthfully, Rovi’s plan resonated deeply with the Hero King’s mindset—merely overcoming challenges had never been enough to satisfy Gilgamesh.

If it could be done, who would willingly endure being constantly spied upon by those arrogant beings who presumed themselves above all?

“This king is truly looking forward to seeing those fools’ reactions. Bwahahaha!”

That magnetic laughter echoed once again.

“Whatever Rovi wants to do, I’ll support him.” Enkidu gently voiced her approval, serene and reassuring.

She would never object to the plans of a ‘friend.’ She’d fulfill their wishes with all her might.

“Vizier Rovi’s proposal…is indeed worth trying,” Siduri also replied after a thoughtful pause. Compared to Gilgamesh, who considered only his own amusement, this young woman, who managed all matters within Uruk, naturally had far more concerns.

Yet ultimately, she could not find any reason to reject it—not that Rovi’s plan was without problems. Theory was one thing, practice another, and the implementation would require substantial preparation.

Such as:

“How exactly…should we make other nations sense the impending crisis?” Siduri asked the most critical question.

The appearance of the Bull of Heaven and Humbaba was at Uruk’s borders; their likely next moves would be to strike from the east and west, converging upon the royal city.

Their presence was imposing, their threat terrifying—but only toward Uruk.

Other kingdoms of Mesopotamia might remain largely unaffected.

But then again…

“The gods say they’re sending these ultimate beasts solely to punish us, but…who would really believe that?” Rovi laughed softly as he said this.

The gods never cared for humans, just as humans never cared about what livestock thought.

Promises from the divine had always been empty; since ancient times, even at the height of the Age of Gods, acts of divine betrayal had been countless.

Humans worshipped gods for power, not for trustworthiness.

The gods had long since drained their store of credibility.

No nation could fully trust divine assurances. Even if their kings and priests tried desperately to believe, would their people feel the same?

Given a choice, who would want to place their lives entirely upon the gods’ fickle moods?

“I understand Rovi’s meaning now!” Siduri hesitated, momentarily uncertain, but it was Enkidu who reacted first, gently brushing back her soft emerald hair, her moist lips clearly articulating the thought. “Regardless of what the gods claim, as long as we make other nations aware—or rather, make them believe—the Bull of Heaven and Humbaba threaten them as well, it will suffice.”

In other words, rumors.

Public opinion was fluid like water—but once boiling, it could make the imaginary seem real.

Enkidu was indeed a divine-made being, her innate wisdom unquestionable.

With her understanding, Gilgamesh naturally grasped it immediately.

Further developments no longer required Rovi’s leadership.

“As expected of my companions!” Gilgamesh opened with unabashed self-praise before turning to Siduri. “If this king remembers correctly, countless merchants from every nation gather in Uruk daily, yes?”

“Yes, my king.”

Uruk was Mesopotamia’s greatest city-state and kingdom, the most prosperous place, where merchants from every nation exchanged goods to bring back home, facilitating thriving trade.

Merchants chased profit.

If given sufficient incentives, they’d do anything.

“Allocate funds to these merchants and have them perform a task for this king!” Gilgamesh waved his hand broadly. “Have them spread a message during their travels—”

“Tell the people: The gods have grown weary of humanity and intend to test Heaven and Earth, sending a punishment sufficient to annihilate humankind.”

“To survive this trial, all peoples must unite around the strongest nation!”

Still invoking the name of the gods.

Though Gilgamesh despised those beings, he wasn’t above borrowing their authority when it suited him. After all, humanity at the twilight of the Age of Gods still widely worshipped the divine.

This was thus the most suitable—and effective—approach.

“Yes, my king.” Siduri paused briefly, bowed, and quickly left the room, fully understanding the gravity of the task.

First, they’d pressure other nations through the power of rumor.

Then, shape public perception, “Dragging the gods down into the dirt using their own name? Bwahahaha, how thrilling it will be to see those idiots’ faces then!”

For some reason, Gilgamesh suddenly felt overwhelmingly pleased.

Meanwhile, Rovi inwardly schemed again.

Uniting other countries would require sincerity, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps he could take on an ambassadorial mission to an enemy nation…and deliberately provoke assassination.

If he died, Gilgamesh would have an ideal pretext for declaring war, demonstrating Uruk’s power, and intimidating neighboring lands into submission.

He’d fulfill his duty and finally, die spectacularly.

If he could manage to remove Ereshkigal’s blessing afterward, Rovi might yet succeed.

Of course, this “death” would almost certainly be intercepted by Eresh at the gates of the Netherworld… No, realistically speaking, the odds were nearly 100%.

But Rovi still wanted to try.

He might’ve sworn to “go big and go out with a bang,” but he certainly wouldn’t pass up this promising opportunity.

—

Thus, within the chambers, the king, the sage, and the divine clay-being made plans against the punishment sent by the gods.

The king sent merchants forth, spreading the sage’s words.

Heaven and Earth faced imminent collapse; disaster approached, akin to the ancient flood of Napishtim.

The king demanded unity.
The sage called for arms.

The divine-made clay-being would stand by their side.

—

In the barren wilderness, a figure stumbled onward. His thin, dry frame wrapped in tattered black robes, yet it held a strength that belied weakness.

He raised his head, revealing features shadowed by dark hair and beard.

Behind him lay a deep fissure, a crack of utter darkness—the gateway from the Netherworld.

The old man known as Ziusudra paused, listening carefully to the distant whispers carried by the wind.

“A catastrophe approaches…”

“That child who bears no destiny, one among the original three, may hold the key.”

“It seems this old one must finally meet him.”

Exhaling softly, he lowered his head again and resumed his slow journey forward.

Each step he took upon the sandy soil left behind dark footprints, draining the life around him, as though Death itself had passed by.

—

This is a fan translation of 求你让我上英灵座吧 by 洛州白马 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!