With the sigh of a god long bored of inferiority, Gilgamesh raised his hand — lazily, mockingly, as though brushing aside the notion of struggle, The enemy raised their blade.
Foolish.
A single, sardonic breath escaped him, somewhere between laughter and a yawn. Then ⊱
𒀭 𝑮ilgamesh.
— an armory’s uprising、hungry for the blood of the divine. In a geyser of vengeance、as though the underworld had declared war upon the heavens above.
“ You called your power endless … I wonder、how well your myth holds against eternity’s shadow. ”
