When Shiomi came to, he found his head resting on Tiamat's lap.
She looked down at him with gentle affection, slowly stroking his hair.
"Human, my child... To think one so much like you could exist," Tiamat said, her voice still halting.
She spoke using a language system entirely different from that of humans. Yet here, in her own mental world, she could communicate like this.
Because his spirit had reached resonance with hers.
"Maybe just a little," Shiomi murmured, making a small gesture with his thumb and forefinger, then letting his hand drop limply. "Up to now, I've only managed to overcome death—gained the power to heal wounds—but I still can't undo the curse of death itself."
At his words, Tiamat seemed to smile faintly. So faint it was almost imperceptible, yet her joy was clearly felt.
It was a different kind of joy—not the triumphant kind from transforming the world or reclaiming the title of Mother of Life.
This emotion was far quieter, subtler... but impossible for Shiomi to ignore.
"It's all right. There's no need to worry. Human… no, not quite human…" Tiamat faltered.
As the Mother of Origins, she could see the critical threshold Shiomi stood upon.
He had reached the border between human and divine, yet he couldn't be defined by something as simple as "demigod."
He was something else entirely.
A singular kind of human.
The one most like her—the child most like her.
Just as mothers among humans tend to favor children who resemble them, Tiamat had, perhaps unknowingly, come to feel the same.
"I am human," Shiomi said softly. "Even if I move toward a new stage of existence, I won't abandon that truth."
"Yes... You are human. I'll remember that," Tiamat replied. "Even if you don't belong to this world, it makes no difference."
Shiomi blinked, surprised. "Mother… you know where I came from?"
"No. I don't," Tiamat said, shaking her head slightly. "But I know you're connected to the origin of this world. If you leave this planet and go to what they call the 'moon,' perhaps the answer awaits there."
Those words made Shiomi sit up.
"Mooncell? So you know about that too, Mother…" He paused, realizing how foolish the question was. As the planetary sea of origin, the mother of all life—it would be stranger if she didn't know.
"I don't know the details," Tiamat admitted, looking slightly apologetic. "A mother who serves no purpose… really is something 'no longer needed,' after all."
"That's not true." Shiomi took her hands in his. "That was just the choice made by humanity's collective unconscious. A decision made for the sake of the species' future—not by any individual."
"Ah..." Tiamat looked into his eyes.
"So even if every human proclaims they no longer need a mother—I'll be the one. The one person who still accepts you, who still needs you." Shiomi's grip tightened. "And I'll remain that way, until the very end of this world."
He admitted the words came from a selfish place—but they were also entirely sincere, free of deceit.
"A strange child… but so very kind," Tiamat said.
"It's not kindness. It's just natural." Shiomi spoke slowly, clearly. "All children love their mothers. But they need to grow up, move beyond childhood, and step into new worlds—and that means they have to leave."
"As a 'human' who's simply taken one step ahead of the rest... I—"
"I understand," Tiamat interrupted gently, touching her forehead to his. "Because you are the child most like me."
This was the sea of Tiamat's soul—a place where words were meaningless.
From the moment Shiomi chose to connect with her spirit, everything he thought had already reached her.
Words were just surface dressing, a way to express what was already known.
Tiamat simply enjoyed this form of communication. That was why she continued to speak with him.
To talk with this precious, unique child who resembled her more than any other.
And because of this one human—this one in seven billion—her thoughts had changed.
In the end, Tiamat did resent humanity for abandoning her. Yet somewhere deep inside, she had already accepted that pain as something... inevitable.
Because her very origin is that of a "mother," she held a deep wish—to become a guardian of humanity.
That wish took form as something known as "Self Seal."
When she first descended upon the shores of the Persian Gulf, Tiamat bound herself with a rope that wounded even her. A restraint born from her own will.
She remained bound until that seal was broken—until she was destroyed, lost her mind, and shattered her own "Self Seal."
It wasn't that Shiomi had persuaded Tiamat.
He had simply touched the depths of her soul—her sea of spirit—and helped her remember the wish she once held. That was enough for her to reclaim her reason.
"So... it's time to return," Tiamat said after a long silence.
"Yeah. Let's go together, Mother," Shiomi answered instinctively.
He wasn't being consumed. He wasn't tempted. It was just a child's natural instinct—to accept the option of journeying with his mother into the Sea of Imaginary Numbers.
Even if it wasn't the right path. Even if he should've rejected it the moment it crossed his mind.
He didn't regret saying it.
"No. You're the one who should go back." Tiamat gently released him. Tears streamed down her face, but she smiled. "It made me so happy... to see you, to hold you, to talk with you."
"Mother…"
As she spoke, Shiomi felt his body begin to rise, slowly drifting away from her embrace.
She was releasing him from her soul's sea—sending him back to himself, to his existence as a human.
"Continue your journey. Whatever you face, don't fear it. You, my most wonderful child... I want to see your future. I'll always be with you. We'll never be apart again."
Listening to her parting words, Shiomi finally understood.
"…Yeah."
He nodded deeply.
He accepted her love, becoming a twelfth child—one not born of Tiamat, not found in any myth.
Perhaps this was the fate of those who touched that divine power. At the very least, Shiomi believed so.
Then, in a sudden moment of clarity—
He saw himself being pulled away from Tiamat's dragon-form Spirit Origin, unable to stop the drift. The once-turbulent Goddess Tiamat had grown calm, slowly closing her eyes as she sank into the shadows of the Sea of Imaginary Numbers.
Ereshkigal caught him from behind.
Seeing Tiamat's Spirit Origin vanish into a realm where no life could exist, she couldn't help but ask,
"What happened? Mother… what's going on?"
Shiomi simply looked toward the golden light drifting toward him, reached out to catch the Holy Grail left by the King of Magecraft, and smiled faintly.
"It's nothing... Mother just made her choice."