Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 68: The Reconceived Primordial Child

Chapter 68: The Reconceived Primordial Child
Imaginary Number Space. Silent. Empty.
Within that formless darkness, Rowe opened his eyes. Countless images flashed across his vision like waves of light.
He now understood everything that had happened to Uruk after his disappearance.
“So that Mongrel finally found the back door I left him.”
Rowe could not help laughing softly.
The space he had carved out by shuttling between the living world and the Underworld again and again, vast enough to house the entire city of Uruk, had been his final gift to the King as a sage.
It was also his last insurance policy.
A powerful Uruk that remained forever at its peak would inevitably twist the flow of history.
At best it would become a Singularity.
At worst, a Lostbelt grown from that Singularity.
Singularities would be corrected.
Lostbelts would be pruned.
All that Rowe had done would vanish without record or trace, and everything would return to a world where he had never existed. He could not allow that.
At the same time, he could not bear to see the glorious realm the three of them had built simply collapse into ruin.
So he had arranged for Uruk to leave the stage of history on its own.
To prepare in advance.
To plan the retreat before the advance.
To think of disaster while in peace.
That was what a sage should do.
“The source of all kings, the mortal Hades who governs the Underworld… that damned Gilgamesh really dared to use it.”
His thoughts spun and slowly settled.
He had not seen the very end. His vision had stopped at the moment when the older Gilgamesh led the people of Uruk into the Underworld.
He had not seen Enkidu, Ereshkigal, Ishtar Rin and the others again either.
But he knew Gilgamesh was safe.
Through the key he had entrusted to him, he could feel that every one of them was still there, still existing in their own realms.
So Rowe finally allowed himself to relax.
They would meet again.
Not on the Throne of Heroes, but in the present world.
He would return.
However, Imaginary Number Space was, by its nature, a separate line.
Its connection to the surface world depended on the cognition and concepts of those still living. That anchor of perception determined the point at which it could reconnect.
In other words, if Rowe returned to the present world now, the time he reappeared would only be after Uruk had descended into the Underworld.
One instant in Imaginary Space, almost a century outside.
Rowe gave a soft cough.
In that same passing of time, his body had grown steadily worse.
There was no pain.
Only a heavy, sinking weakness, as if he were a terminal patient whose body simply refused to answer his will.
“Aaaaa…”
The pink, star bright eyes above him lowered slightly.
Tiamat, who stood in Imaginary Number Space like a colossal floating ark, sustaining the very concept of “existence” in a place defined as nonexistent, leaned down and looked at the small figure in her palm.
Her crossed legs arched back a little, the tight angle of the curve drawing taut. Dragon scales wrapped her like a single garment. As she twisted her body, her narrow waist swelled and rippled like a wave.
“Are you alright?”
Rowe understood her perfectly.
It was likely a side effect of the primordial attribute clinging to the Sword of Rupture. As the one who embodied that power, he could interpret the information hidden in the primordial Mother Goddess’s chaotic sound.
Under that shared foundation, Tiamat’s voice became clear in his mind.
Gentle. Feminine. Full of deep affection.
It even sounded like it came with its own audio filter.
How extravagant.
“It is nothing. Just a bunch of scoundrels buzzing in my ears like flies. Ignore them.”
Even though he was technically a captive, he showed no hint of fear.
If escape was impossible anyway, he might as well be comfortable on the road to “death.”
Tiamat tilted her head.
Scoundrels.
Did he mean those…
“Exactly. Those rebellious brats,” Rowe replied, smiling.
He knew that Tiamat saw him as another primordial embodiment like herself, so choosing sides like this did not feel out of place.
Tiamat shifted her grip.
She held Rowe in one hand, and raised the other, extending a single finger.
The immense fingertip, sheathed in dark blue dragon scales, came down carefully and touched the top of his head. Her motion was hesitant, cautious, almost childlike.
Rowe felt the curses within him recoil in terror.
But even Tiamat could not simply erase the creeping erosion.
After all, the reason she had once been driven out of the world was precisely because all the gods had joined forces against her.
They had struck from ambush, yes.
Yet in a strict sense, all the gods together truly could rival her.
“Does it hurt? The way it hurt when they struck me…”
“A pile of scoundrels and they think they can make me hurt? They are far from it.”
Rowe snorted.
“You do not need to worry. I will not die.”
“What is death?”
“Death is leaving the world forever. It means never again seeing those you want to see. Never visiting the places you love. You cannot hear. You cannot see. Nothing reaches you.”
“Then am I already dead?”
“You still have a path back to the surface world. You can still speak with me. That alone means you are not dead.”
“Then will you die?”
“Did I not say I will not die?”
“But I can feel that your body is failing. Your soul is about to shatter.”
“I said that I will not die.”
The darkness that filled the Imaginary Number Space did not respond.
The primordial Mother Goddess cradled a small point of light in her hands, her voice rippling faintly through the void. It seemed to vanish as soon as it appeared.
Tiamat had not felt like this in a very long time.
To be able to exchange thoughts.
To be able to show someone what she felt.
To be able to speak the questions that weighed on her heart.
“Rowe… what is wrong with you?”
“I am tired. Let me sleep for a while.”
“What is sleep?”
“Sleep is a temporary pause.”
“Pause?”
This time, Rowe did not answer.
He leaned against Tiamat’s slightly raised finger as if it were a pillar of stone and slowly closed his eyes.
He tightened his robe around himself.
He fell asleep.
Or rather, he died with expectation in his heart.
Because he could clearly feel it.
The gods’ curse had reached its limit.
His life had finally come to its true end.
To close his eyes now meant death.
Every deed and misdeed he had left in the world slid past his thoughts in an instant.
At the very last moment, Rowe felt a cool breath brush across his face.
There was no wind in Imaginary Number Space.
The sensation came from Tiamat alone.
She bent lower, looking at the figure lying in her palm.
She reached out and touched him with the tip of one finger.
She called to him with her voice.
No answer.
Had Rowe died?
Just as he had described it to her before.
To leave that world forever.
To hear nothing.
To see nothing.
If Rowe was dead, then here, in this isolated space, she would no longer hear a reply, see a change, or feel the presence of the one she wished to see.
If no one was here to be with her, to listen and answer, if this place held nothing she loved, then what was she?
Would that not mean she was also dead?
The primordial Mother Goddess’s eyes widened slightly.
She did not want to die.
So he could not die.
If he died, there would never again be anyone who understood her voice.
“Aaaaa…”
A clear cry rang out.
Tiamat brought both hands together and gently enclosed Rowe between her palms.
Within her cupped hands, the Sea of Chaos rose up.
Primordial light and shadow churned.
It was like watching the first morning of the world replayed from the very beginning.
The Primordial Mother Goddess Tiamat, at last, displayed her authority.
She cradled Rowe.
And from death, she began to make him live again.
Just as she had once brought forth the gods.
The difference was that the gods had come after her, born from the many natural phenomena of a planet slowly stabilizing.
Rowe was before her.
A Child of the Primordial, nurtured by the sea that lay beneath the very first primordial sea.
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