The day passed swiftly.
As Siduri directed citizens to move the Ziggurat's wounded to Uruk's plaza, large enough to hold them all, the sky above darkened.
Another day had slipped away.
On the Demonic Front, the war raged on, marked by the blood and sacrifice of warriors.
The conflict showed no signs of stopping.
Every moment brought death, sacrifice, and more wounded carried to the plaza.
Uruk's plaza lay under a pitch-black sky, devoid of light.
Not even the familiar, hoped-for moon or a single star graced the deep night.
Soldiers lying on the cold plaza floor gazed silently at the sky, a sight they'd seen countless times.
Tears slid from their eyes.
They could never have imagined their world would be overtaken by endless demon beasts.
The gods had vanished, and human civilization in Mesopotamia was reduced to the solitary city of Uruk.
They were the last humans on this continent, fighting and struggling against the beasts.
Long ago, many weren't warriors; some hailed from city-states beyond Uruk.
Tensions over land had sparked conflicts with Uruk, and they'd quietly cursed Gilgamesh's tyranny and arrogance, resenting Uruk's claim to the most resources.
Their lives, though not lavish, had been joyful, filled with children, spouses, and cherished friends, living under the gods' protection and their kings' guidance.
But who could have foreseen such a swift, unheralded calamity?
One day, the divine statues in the Ziggurat lost their glow, and priests could no longer hear the gods' guidance. Then, terrifying beasts from nowhere swept across the godless land.
Their power was overwhelming, their numbers boundless. Like a tidal wave, they crushed city-state defenses like clay.
The battles were devastating.
They lost their homes, families, everything.
Kings fell, warriors were devoured before their eyes, and old priests died calling for Enki's mercy.
But this time, the great Enki didn't answer, nor did he descend to perform miracles as before.
When Enki's Ziggurat collapsed under the beasts' assault, all realized the gods had abandoned the land.
The surviving humans were gripped by fear. City-states, realizing this truth, descended into madness. Kings pleaded for divine aid, to no avail.
In their darkest hour, the king once reviled by all city-states, long absent, emerged, King of Heroes Gilgamesh.
Unlike other despairing kings begging the gods, he stood boldly, displaying a king's wisdom and mercy.
He opened Uruk's gates to refugees from other city-states, mobilizing every resource to build an impregnable Demonic Front, halting the beasts' unstoppable advance.
Seeing the beasts stopped, many outsiders fell silent, staring at the golden king they'd once called a tyrant.
They willingly joined Uruk, becoming its citizens, its warriors, in humanity's last bastion, resisting the relentless beast tide.
Under Gilgamesh's command, things seemed to improve.
Until the recent catastrophe.
More, stranger beasts joined the fray, and countless fleshy pillars studded with eyes rose on the battlefield, gazing coldly.
Like demon gods, their power crushed any thought of resistance, tearing the Demonic Front apart in moments.
As soldiers, they could only watch the purple beams approach, trembling, unable to resist.
Against such nation-destroying calamity, fear was a luxury.
Compared to these monsters, the beasts seemed trivial.
They couldn't win. It was impossible…
How could they defeat monsters from myth?!!
He screamed until his voice broke, then lost his limbs to the pillars' purple light, reduced to a cripple.
If not for the heroic warrior Spartacus, who charged fearlessly as the fleshy pillars threatened to annihilate the battlefield, his towering figure like Marduk himself, breaking through the beast tide to destroy a pillar, he wouldn't have survived.
But what was the point of living?
A useless cripple, unable to fight, tormented by constant pain.
He was tired, so tired…
Fleeing, fighting, losing life… death was inevitable. He'd done all he could, living without shame.
Now, he only wanted death, release, to reunite with his family in the underworld.
His eyelids grew heavy…
Was he sleepy? Good. He'd sleep forever, never waking.
Tap, tap, tap…
Soft footsteps echoed from the plaza's edge.
Roy ascended to the center of Uruk's plaza platform.
"Your Majesty, what are you…" Siduri, following, looked at him, puzzled.
"The ascension ritual calls."
Roy answered vaguely, offering no further explanation. He glanced at Gilgamesh's Ziggurat, then climbed higher.
"Master…"
"Roy…"
Familiar voices reached him, Quetzalcoatl and Jaguar Man, drawn by the anomaly.
His figure stiffened but didn't stop, continuing to the platform's peak.
With each step, powerful mana and pure white light trembled in the air, growing tangible. Blue eyes gazed down at the crowd, taking in Uruk's state.
Tap, tap, tap…
His ascent didn't pause.
Everyone in the plaza felt a dense mana, a force affecting their bodies, beyond human reach, like a god's.
Unlike later humans, those of the Age of Gods, living alongside ether, could sense ether, spirits, even gods, and detect changes in the environment's mana.
Now, a godlike presence stood here, stirring the ether sea around Uruk, affecting their souls.
What was this…
The wounded below couldn't help but stare at the sudden, extraordinary mana. Its power and impact made Roy's mere presence undeniable.
In that moment, all looked up at the figure on the platform and the white silhouette descending beside him.
Another potent, unignorable mana.
A blurred figure, radiating pure white light.
Though humanoid, one glance confirmed it wasn't human.
Pure white light filled its eyes, and pristine mana swirled around it like a cyclone.
It was like a legendary divine warrior, powerful and mysterious.
Though its face was unclear, many soldiers recognized it.
A warrior of Uruk, one who fought last night, gravely wounded, losing both arms, reduced to a cripple.
Why was he here, in this form?
The white warrior didn't speak, and Roy, beside him, offered no answers.
He silently gazed at the stunned soldiers below, then opened his palm, conjuring a white aura and gently releasing it.
The cyclone-like aura floated from his hand, drifting above the plaza, then fell like raindrops onto their souls.
White light touched their foreheads.
In that instant, the warriors' souls were flooded with memories.
Angels…
Magic…
The ascension ritual calling them!!
If they craved power, to return to battle, willing to shed flesh and human identity, the white light would answer.
Pure magical energy would grant rebirth, making them like the powerful, mysterious angelic warrior on the platform. The mage would give them endless mana and ascendant power to crush beasts.
They'd no longer be hindered by broken bodies, gaining a chance to fight for humanity again.
The Third Magic's true purpose was never combat.
It was to grant and transform.
Soul materialization was far more than a mana perpetual engine.
If Roy wished, he could swiftly bestow his power on humans, creating an immortal, infinite-mana divine army, unstoppable in sweeping all foes.
Countless white orbs rose in the soldiers' hands below.
"If you're willing, I'll grant you endless mana and immortal angelic bodies, freeing you from pain and fear of death."
"But the cost is losing your human identity, becoming my warriors, fighting the beasts until they're eradicated."
A low voice echoed in their minds, the surge of power and wondrous soul changes intoxicating.
This was the final warning, the last confirmation. They could still turn back. One step into ascension, and there was no return.
But almost simultaneously, every soldier in the plaza made the same choice.
Thousands of lights erupted, strange magical energy transforming them. Without hesitation, they swallowed the orbs in their chests, merging the rising white light into a white sun above Uruk.
"Praise the King, praise the great God of Souls, praise Uruk!!!"
Raising his newly formed, powerful body, a soldier reborn from near-death shouted.
"Praise the Father!!"
A unified cry followed. As soul-beings, all Uruk warriors raised their arms.
Their bodies gained new life, their souls new purpose.
Their minds felt an unprecedented clarity.
The joy of rebirth and the sorrow of near-death vanished.
Only one thought remained.
Follow the Father's will, eradicate all beasts!!
In the next moment, under the shocked gazes of Siduri, Quetzalcoatl, and Jaguar Man, these newborn divine warriors trembled, white light birthing broad wings from their backs.
They shot into the night sky, flying toward Uruk's various fronts.
The white sun above guided their path.
In the deep night, white stars began to speckle the sky.
Countless whooshing sounds competed in the air.
Light fell, the prelude to war.
The counterattack had begun.
The curtain rose.
___
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