Shepherding Humanity by Siuteo
For Gilgamesh, misfortune arrived at the worst possible moment.
Far away from Sumer, Felix was enjoying a peaceful countryside meal with Ellie, completely unaware of the calamity unfolding inside his sandbox world. The food was simple but nourishing. The conversation even simpler—idle chatter, small jokes, and Felix casually teasing the shy girl who pretended not to care, despite the faint redness creeping up her ears.
For a brief moment, the world felt… gentle.
Yet even in that quiet, a familiar truth surfaced in Felix's mind.
All lives grow old.
All lives end.
No one was exempt.
Not even the former Queen of the Tyranis, whose ambition had driven her to search for Eternia, the legendary land said to grant immortality. If her life had truly been eternal, she would never have sought it out in the first place. Like everyone else, she had simply wanted more time.
Felix understood that feeling better than anyone.
He was terminally ill.
Cancer would not grant him the dignity of old age. His end would be abrupt—no long decline, no slow farewell.
"And this king in the sandbox…" Felix muttered with a faint, self-mocking smile.
"He lived a brilliant life. A nation will mourn him. His name will be remembered forever. How enviable."
He chuckled softly.
Three hundred wives.
The birth of civilization.
A legend carved into history itself.
"What more could you ask for?" he said, leaning back. "Nothing."
For a moment, he was perfectly content.
If he were given the choice—to become a Bugape, to live as Gilgamesh had lived—he would trade everything for even a single, glorious moment. Power. Authority. The ability to shape history with one's own hands.
The ultimate power trip.
And yet… Felix felt no regret.
"Let's go into town and buy a washing machine," he said casually, standing and brushing dirt from his clothes. He ran a hand through his thick hair, grounding himself in the ordinary.
Ellie laughed. "Then hop on my scooter! Oh—by the way, I still have a ton of questions about my major. You're an alumni, after all. And I chose the same one as you!"
"That's good," Felix replied, smiling.
He didn't own a car. What little savings he had were drained by chemotherapy. A bicycle was all he could afford. When they went out together, he rode behind Ellie on her scooter.
They headed into town, shopping for appliances like any other ordinary pair.
Felix appreciated modern conveniences more than most. Life without them felt unimaginable.
As the scooter hummed along the road, his thoughts drifted back to Gilgamesh.
By now, the king should be approaching his end.
Felix assumed he would accept death calmly—after all, Felix himself had done so. Mortality was unavoidable.
But Felix underestimated one thing.
Human desire.
When Gilgamesh faced death for the second time, something inside him broke.
He refused to yield.
He wanted a third life.
Year 102 of the Sumerian Dynasty
Gilgamesh was 142 years old—a lifespan three times that of ordinary humans.
Time had finally caught him.
His once-mighty body weakened. His sharp mind became clouded by dread. Terrified of the approaching end, he issued a royal decree:
Search for the Great Beast of Wisdom.
Any who uncover its traces will be richly rewarded.
Across the land, sages and scholars descended into madness. Potions were brewed. Forbidden rituals performed. Behemoths were slaughtered for their organs. The proud Arrah beasts were hunted to extinction.
City-states fell under the rule of black mages.
The world darkened.
Year 113 of the Sumerian Dynasty
A breakthrough.
A court mage created a life-extending potion using Arrah horns, white-bearded grass sap, and the organs of great beasts.
It worked.
For a time.
But each dose weakened its effect. Gilgamesh drank again and again, yet vitality continued to slip through his fingers.
Death returned—patient, inevitable.
Year 145 of the Sumerian Dynasty
Gilgamesh could no longer rise from his throne.
His once-radiant white hair became dull and brittle.
At last, he spoke:
"Begin selecting candidates for the next king."
The decree sent shockwaves through Sumer.
Fear spread.
Once, Gilgamesh had named Agga of Kish as his heir—only to kill him after reclaiming his life. No one dared approach the throne.
Gilgamesh understood their fear.
So he offered temptation.
"Those who seek the crown shall drink the Blood of the Conqueror.
If your power rivals mine, you need not fear me.
You will also be granted land beyond Uruk—to build your own city, and rule as king."
The palace overflowed with aspirants.
Many died.
Only two survived.
Enkidu, the forest warrior.
Ishtar, the barbarian of the grasslands.
They departed to establish their own city-states.
Year 175 of the Sumerian Dynasty
Three royal cities now stood—ruled by three kings.
But Gilgamesh still lived.
Still feared death.
In desperation, he ordered the construction of a colossal temple—greater even than the royal palace—dedicated to the Great Beast of Wisdom.
Within it stood a towering statue of the Wise Beast, its presence overwhelming.
The aging king led his ministers and millions of citizens in worship.
Kneeling before the statue, his voice trembled.
"Great Beast of Wisdom…
Please.
Let me see you once more."
At the end of his life, the King of Sumer begged for the impossible.
One final meeting.
One last hope for eternity.