"The army is mostly unharmed. Only a few suffered light injuries from falling debris when part of the wall collapsed."
As she gave her report, Siduri puffed out her cheeks and glared at Ophis.
She knew full well the King had only been trying to protect her—but thanks to that kick, she'd become one of those very "falling objects."
Thankfully, as a priestess blessed by the gods, she wasn't about to be hurt by something as stupid as a fall.
"How bad is the wall damage?"
Ignoring that flicker of resentment, Ophis tilted her head in thought before asking.
"Not severe. If there's no interference from demonic beasts, repairs can be finished within half a day."
"Then get it done as fast as possible. Take one of the hundred-man units that's been bathed in dragon blood and send half to cover the workers."
Fifty might sound few, but with Ophis's energy flowing in their veins, even a fifty-man formation was something Altera herself would have to take seriously—at least when she wasn't releasing her Noble Phantasm.
"Understood."
Siduri knew there was no time to lose. She immediately gestured for a messenger to deliver the order.
"Also, bring me the officer in charge of the wall garrison. I have something to say."
"Yes, my King!"
Another runner dashed off.
"Next…"
While waiting, Ophis's gaze drifted across the gathered Servants, settling at last on Arjuna.
"Arjuna. You saw it, didn't you? What was it?"
"As expected of Master—you noticed too?"
Arjuna closed his eyes, as if replaying the scene in his mind.
Clairvoyance B+.
It might not sound extraordinary, but Clairvoyance itself was a rare and peculiar skill. At A rank, it bordered on "true sight," able to glimpse the future or even brush against thoughts. For long-range vision alone, B+ was already top tier. (A hero who can see the future, read minds, and never ignore a summons—what a miserable life.)
As for EX-rank Clairvoyance… that was something else entirely, far beyond human comprehension.
At any rate, with B+ Clairvoyance, even from afar Arjuna could count the blades of grass and grains of sand on that hill. Seeing what had been there was trivial.
"The enemy were scorpion men."
"Scorpion men?" Siduri repeated, puzzled.
"Yes. 'Scorpion men.' That's the only name that fits—creatures with human torsos and scorpion lower halves."
Even before Arjuna spoke, Ophis had already been searching through the knowledge swirling in her mind.
Half human, half scorpion…
Could it be the legendary—
"Mm. One of Tiamat's Eleven Sons, perhaps?"
Before Ophis could chase the thought further, Merlin cut in.
"Tiamat's Eleven Sons…"
At his words, Ophis remembered.
Tiamat—"Mother of Life." In legend, she was the primordial sea itself, who, with Apsu, the fresh water, birthed the gods.
But when those gods grew strong, they turned on their father, overthrowing Apsu's rule. Tiamat accepted it without anger—proof, they said, of a mother's love surpassing a wife's.
And yet, in the end, even their mother was not spared.
Tiamat grieved, fell into despair, and gave birth to new offspring: eleven beasts in all. These were the so-called Eleven Sons—or Eleven Beasts—of Tiamat.
Led by her son and second husband, Kingu, they waged war on the gods but were ultimately slain by Marduk's valor. Tiamat herself was killed, her immense body split in two—half forming the heavens, half the earth.
Of course, that was the myth. The truth may differ. But this land called Mesopotamia, built atop the corpses of gods, was steeped in that very story.
"The seven-headed serpent—Mušmaḫḫū. The viper—Bašmu. The scorpion men—Girtablilu… These are just some of eleven beasts that are the legendary Children of Tiamat."
"Half scorpion, half human… so the enemy before was the scorpion man, Girtablilu!?"
Siduri's quick mind caught on at once, her face draining of color.
Though the Eleven were called "beasts" in the tales, each possessed divine might equal to—or greater than—an individual god. But that wasn't the real problem.
If their foe was truly one of the Eleven, then perhaps the rumors spreading among the citizens weren't so far-fetched after all.
"King Ophis… what do you think?"
At Merlin's question, Ophis paused in thought.
"Strong. Very strong. It truly felt… godlike."
That power—it had seemed even greater than Ereshkigal's.
"Oh… then it's quite possible," Merlin murmured, a strange tone beneath his usual smile.
"Arjuna?"
"Just as Master now suspects—the arrow did not kill it. My apologies."
Ophis wasn't surprised in the least.
If the enemy truly was one of Tiamat's Eleven Beasts, it would've been suspicious if Arjuna had killed it that easily.
The fact that it survived nearly unscathed only confirmed its identity. Even if it wasn't one of the Eleven, it was something of equal—or even greater—power.
And Ophis had seen that truth with her own eyes; she simply hadn't said it aloud.
"Wait… does this mean the god we're facing is truly Tiamat herself?"
Siduri's voice trembled.
No one could blame her. Tiamat—the primordial goddess of creation—was a being far beyond mortal reach. To fight her was to challenge the impossible.
Even if they'd already steeled themselves for death, the thought still pressed a heavy despair over everyone present.
No one answered Siduri's question.
At last, Ophis turned to Merlin—the question she'd long wanted to ask finally surfacing.
This "monster" Merlin had spoken of… what was it, really?
Merlin's face wore its usual smile, but for once his eyes, meeting Ophis's, held a rare gravity.
"As for what King Ophis wishes to ask… I can only say this: even if it isn't Tiamat herself, it will most certainly be a 'monster' of the same class."
And with that offhand remark, he laid bare a truth that made Siduri's heart sink completely.