Of course, the gods did not deign to answer Rovi.
But what followed was an endless barrage of thunder.
Boom, boom, boom—
Humanity's cannons, filled with Uruk's courage, linked through Enkidu's chains, rained relentlessly from the heavens. Immense flames hammered down upon Gugalanna's golden hooves and ignited Humbaba's writhing roots within the cedar forest.
"Mu!"
The Bull of Heaven bellowed in agony, staggering as its enormous body faltered.
To the west, the Cedar Forest likewise stalled, gigantic trees twisting beneath flames, screaming in indescribable voices.
This was pain Gugalanna and Humbaba had never anticipated.
If these had been ordinary cannon fire, even a thousandfold more dense, it wouldn't have scratched their hides.
But this strike—ignited by Gilgamesh, drawn forth by Rovi, and linked through Enkidu—was humanity's cannon, carrying the collective will of all Uruk.
It was, in essence, a blow imbued with humanity's gathered concept—
A power even the gods could not fully nullify.
This was Man challenging Heaven and Earth.
"To think...even this they have accomplished. Those three have moved beyond our reach!" Anu's voice was heavy with solemnity.
Rovi sensed it too—the gods' eyes, scattered like stars across the heavens, watching, conferring urgently.
"Those who blaspheme against divinity—no matter what, they must die!" A voice rang sharp and clear: the true body of the goddess of Venus.
"It matters not. As long as two of the three remain, our purpose is met. Once this is over, I will reclaim the husks of the Bull and the Cedar Forest, unleashing a new Flood—let those who defy the gods learn the cost of rebellion!" This voice was the roar of storms and lightning—Adad, god of tempest.
Though startled by humanity, the gods remained indifferent.
They knew courage was fleeting.
This unnatural human cannon could fire only once.
It could wound and briefly halt the Bull and the Cedar Forest, but never truly cripple them.
Yet Rovi and the others knew all this too.
And for them, this was enough.
Uruk's people, seeing Gugalanna and Humbaba falter, now understood—if united, even these monstrous threats could be resisted.
Though the courage of this moment might fade, their hearts had already unified.
An unseen yet tangible concept.
A power Rovi could wield.
This was merely the first move.
At last, the cannon fell silent, the flames upon the beasts extinguished.
The golden hoof rose again; towering horns pierced through the clouds as Gugalanna prepared to advance once more.
Yet before the Bull could take a single step, its eyes—burning like fixed stars—trembled as if witnessing something terrifying.
It had seen Rovi, standing quietly in Uruk.
"Mu—!!"
The Bull bellowed—and abruptly turned to flee.
"???"
Everyone stared blankly, dumbfounded.
Soon, though, someone recalled—how Rovi once had desperately fought the Bull even before its full descent.
A lingering trauma...?
Somehow pitiful.
Yet if the Bull wished to flee, someone else would not allow it.
Its raised hoof suddenly buckled.
As if sinking into mire, its left hoof collapsed beneath it.
Blackness surged outward like a tide—the abyssal miasma of the Netherworld, once binding the Bull but shattered when it fully manifested.
That darkness had not vanished.
Instead, it had seeped underground. And now, at the command of the goddess, it surged back upward to ensnare the Bull.
Deep within Kur, amid the gloom-laden temple, Ereshkigal, golden-haired goddess of the underworld, opened her eyes.
Before her flickered countless ghost-blue fires—spirits who rested here, answering their goddess's heart:
I want to help him...that sole person who looks to me, who alone...cares for me.
And also—
The one whom I care for.
Gentleness had left her face, replaced by unwavering resolve.
The souls of the dead blazed brighter still.
They lent their strength to Ereshkigal.
At last, the goddess of Kur unleashed her power.
"Answer my call, Meslamtaea!"
"Know the Blessing of Kur!"
"Appear, O scorching shrine—this is..."
"[Kur Ki Gal Irkalla]!!"
Wind roared fiercely. Her crimson cloak and golden hair whipped violently upward. A surge of death rushed skyward, as if the underworld itself would smash into the realm of the living.
"MU!!!"
The Bull of Heaven roared once more.
This time, what barred its path was no mere shadowy swamp—but mountains of pitch-blackness rising from Kur itself.
"Ereshkigal, goddess of Kur—how dare you aid those who rebel against the gods—" Anu's voice thundered in her ears.
"My sister—why are you doing this...?" the true body of Venus demanded angrily.
But Eresh simply severed their connection, silencing them.
For countless millennia, they had never once remembered her existence.
And now they reached out—only to use her.
She cared nothing for them.
She cared only for the one who cared for her.
The goddess of the Netherworld turned again toward the mortal world.
The Bull of Heaven was trapped, impeded by mountains rising from Kur.
And in the west, it was much the same—stars, burning fiercely, plunged downward from above, grinding against the sky with ear-splitting cries, forcing Humbaba's endless vines back into the ground.
Sitting atop the blazing star was Ishtar's vessel—Ishtar-Rin—clicking her tongue irritably.
"Ahhh, why must I handle something I'm so terrible at!?"
Because you took all those gems, obviously... Rovi quietly chuckled.
"Ishtar, you—!" Anu thundered, shaken.
"Wait—no, not me! My avatar has been tampered with by mortals! I can't control it—really, you believe me, right?!"
Anu's questions thundered. Venus's true body scrambled to excuse herself. By now, Ishtar-Rin had become an independent entity, wielding Venus's power but acting upon her own will.
Eresh blocked the Bull with the power of earth.
Ishtar-Rin pinned Humbaba with the power of heaven.
Earth against heaven. Heaven against earth.
Two forces collided, precisely as intended.
This was no coincidence—it had been planned.
In last night's meeting, Rovi had asked Eresh to hold the Bull at bay, and he had bribed Ishtar-Rin with treasures to halt Humbaba.
And now—
"It's our turn—the turn of 'Man.'"
Rovi exchanged a look with Gilgamesh and Enkidu, smiles shared among them.
Rovi smiled in eager anticipation.
Gilgamesh's grin was wild and supremely confident.
Enkidu's lips curved gently, tranquil as ever.
No words spoken, only fists meeting briefly—a silent pact—before parting.
Gilgamesh went toward the Bull.
Enkidu went toward the Cedar Forest.
Heaven stood against earth—yet between them remained an empty space:
The place of Man.
That space—they would fill.
They would claim the tremendous force born from this collision.
Just as before, in the Monster Forest.
Linked to Rovi, who remained unmoving at the core.
Once again, they soared skyward.
Once again, they shook the very heavens above.