"There are still 1,200 Spear-Cages left to make… I shouldn't have slept in."
In the mist-shrouded depths of the valley, the goddess slumped on a blue-black stone, counting the newly arrived souls on her fingers. She looked around at the empty surroundings, feeling utterly hopeless.
"Ahhh! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!"
Ereshkigal frantically tugged at both ends of a strand of her golden hair, stuffed it into her mouth, and bit down with a whimper, venting her frustration. Her cheeks puffed out adorably, forming soft, round curves—a rare and amusing sight in this bleak and barren land.
Humans are such a pain!
Their souls pouring into the underworld just an more work for !
Building prisons to hold them is exhausting!
As the mistress of the underworld grumbled, her ruby-like eyes drifted to the human-shaped shadows dissolving in the black river. Her furrowed brows gradually relaxed.
Well, well, it's just a few more Spear-Cages. Not such a big deal.
As the ruler of this domain, she ought to provide at least basic lodging for the souls that arrive here.
After all, they're all going to be her subjects. If she cut corners too much, wouldn't it reflect badly on her?
So convincing herself, Ereshkigal patted the dust off her long red-and-black dress and got ready to resu her work, preparing to channel her mana to forge the cages that would restrain and protect these souls.
Tsk, tsk… this not-so-honest Master really is too cute.
Rustling sounds echoed as the ancient snake, resting in a cool crevice, lazily poked out its head, watching its Master's dramatic solo performance with amused interest.
In truth, the powers of death, decay, and corruption perated the underworld.
Ordinary souls, once they entered, would have their mories, emotions, and rationality gradually worn away, eventually becoming pure mana, returning to the origin.
Yet this goddess of the underworld—who never stopped complaining—was incredibly diligent and attentive.
By channeling her mana to forge the Spear-Cages, she allowed the ghosts to preserve their reason for much longer.
In ancient Babylonian myth, humans were created as tools by Marduk, King of Kings, after he defeated Tiamat.
So most gods held little compassion or affection for humankind.
A master who even took care of souls like this? Among the gods, she was practically a little angel.
It was just a sha that despite her gentle heart, she had beco the goddess of the underworld—symbol of terror and death.
As the ancient snake silently observed her every move, Ereshkigal suddenly turned around.
In a flash, her right hand shot out and grabbed Ian's tail tip, yanking him to her side and stretching the squirming pet into various annoyed shapes.
"Hmph! This is all because you were too…"
"…too loud!"
Ereshkigal put on her fiercest, most authoritative look, scolding her pet snake while conveniently tossing bla around to vent her frustration.
Hey now, Master, could you maybe think your excuses through before lying?
You're the one who overslept and lost track of ti—how is this my fault?
The ancient snake rolled its eyes and silently grumbled.
Since there's no sun in the underworld, the Temple of slamtaea—built by Ereshkigal herself—absorbed magma and geothermal energy, functioning as a mildly radiant divine construct.
That also ant the inside of the temple was hot and stifling.
Even with Ereshkigal's Authority maintaining it, staying inside too long wasn't exactly pleasant.
Especially when trying to sleep.
Which was why, as a cold-blooded creature, the ancient snake had beco a personal cooling body pillow for its mistress.
Judging from Ereshkigal's recent improvent in sleep quality and increasingly delayed wake-up tis…
This little tool snake seed to be doing its job quite well.
"Hey! Quit spacing out! You're helping too!"
Ereshkigal knocked the dark red tal spear blank in her hand against Ian's head, letting out a soft hum as she issued the order—more to cover her earlier fluster than anything else.
The ancient snake reluctantly got to work, raising its tail to curl around a basket of dark red iron ore and passing it to its master.
Not bad, not bad. Pretty clever. You'll get an extra portion tonight.
Hmph. Who says the underworld is just death and decay? Now that I've got my first living citizen, there'll be a second, and a third!
Seeing this, Ereshkigal lifted her hand with practiced grace, levitating a few ore stones from the basket and resuming her weaving of Spear-Cages. The corners of her lips curved up unconsciously—clearly quite pleased with herself.
Still, wishful thinking was one thing. Realistically, this plan was all but impossible.
Because the snake behind her was a complete anomaly.
Its body carried a form of immortality suited to the underworld, allowing it to survive here without succumbing to decay or rot.
Judging by the recent gossip among the latest batch of Uruk spirits and the noise above ground, the snake's true origins were becoming obvious.
"Hey, little guy. Word is you ended up in the underworld because you stole the Herb of Immortality that Gilgash nearly died trying to get?"
Ian hesitated briefly, then nodded, a mix of helplessness and frustration flickering in his eyes.
You're looking for the snake from before it shed its skin. What does that have to do with ?
Why am I the one taking the bla?
And the worst part is—I can't even deny it.
"Hahahaha! That arrogant jerk actually got played for once. Good job!"
Ereshkigal bead, happily reaching out to stroke the ancient snake's cool, smooth head.
She and the King of Uruk had never gotten along. In his quest for immortality, Gilgash had barged into the underworld and pestered her more than a few tis.
Worse yet, the guy had even left Enkidu's corpse here for safekeeping.
Seriously! What does he think this place is? A public garden? A graveyard hotel?
The goddess grumbled to herself, clearly enjoying Gilgash's misfortune. Her gaze toward her pet snake even softened a little, filled with unexpected satisfaction.
"Right, always calling you 'little guy' this, 'little guy' that—it's way too informal. Ti to give you a proper na."
Ian imdiately perked up. He flicked a stone out of the basket with his tail, then scrawled a line of cuneiform on a smooth stone slab nearby.
Next, he bit down on the corner of his master's cloak and tugged gently, directing her attention to the slab.
"My na is Samael, aning 'Poison of God.'"
Samael—the original sin serpent of Jewish legend who tempted Adam and Eve to eat the fruit of knowledge, and also a fallen angel, adorned with twelve snake-like wings.
Sa lineage. And hey, with this na, I should do just fine here in sopotamia.
So what's yours is mine now.
As the ancient snake muttered internally, he glanced at the next set of characters etched onto the slab. The corner of his mouth lifted into a strange little grin.
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