The great tides of history have never been significantly altered by the actions of a single transmigrator, even if that person is a god-slayer.
To put it simply: if your teammates keep feeding kills to the enemy, even if you go godlike, it's all in vain.
This analogy might not be entirely fitting for Hikigaya Hachiman, but it suits Ramses perfectly.
After his suspected biological big brother ascended to the heavens—wait no, went north to find soone—the Pharaoh's life returned to its usual rhythm, and unsurprisingly, he beca restless again.
He traveled to Abu Simbel, the center of Nubia.
The young Pharaoh wanted to secure his rear and establish peace between Egypt and Nubia. He believed the best way to do this was by constructing a temple there.
The temple would gather divine energy, and this great power would suppress the Nubians' belligerence, making their attacks against Egypt fade into silence.
Pharaoh thought this idea was simply brilliant, so he went ahead with it, leaving far behind. Before departing, he entrusted his new city to his Hebrew friend.
anwhile, in mphis, soone else had been in a rather good mood lately due to Pharaoh's absence.
Nebchasetnebet was enjoying the royal services he believed were his due in his luxurious mansion.
After cleansing his mouth, a skilled barber began shaving him. Attendants applied perfu to his body.
Of course, before donning his wig, his bald scalp needed to be thoroughly cleaned. Nebchasetnebet considered these little pleasures as sothing that made his life a bit easier.
Most importantly, it allowed him to maintain an elegant appearance. Since he wasn't as handso or strong as Ramses, this elegance beca especially important.
When everything was done and he was properly dressed, Nebchasetnebet glanced at the water clock on his table—a primitive tikeeping tool that reminded him it was ti for a scheduled eting.
So he left his ho and boarded his spacious and luxurious palanquin, second only to Ramses' in all of Egypt, instructing the bearers to take him straight to mphis's canal port.
Getting off near a willow tree, he leaned against the trunk, watching the fishing and cargo boats on the river as he waited for his contact.
A cloaked figure erged behind him.
It was a sorcerer—one not welco in any temple across the Egyptian kingdom.
"You're late," Nebchasetnebet said, not turning around, eyes fixed on the river. "Any progress?"
"Moses is special, not easily tad."
"So you failed?"
"No. He didn't reject my proposal. That alone is a success."
"Hey! Do you take for one of those dumb slaves? I want facts!"
"You're too impatient, Nebchasetnebet. Akhenaten's legacy isn't so easily erased.
At the very least, Moses knows that Akhenaten's ideas are the only path for the Hebrews to establish their new faith. Even he is part of it. Like the other Hebrews, he's devout in his belief in the one true God, and he cannot refuse our cooperation."
"Oh? And what about his reputation? Do the elders of the Hebrews support him?"
"Those old n are useless now.
The Hebrews all regard Moses as their one and only great leader. He also enjoys high esteem among other tribes. Once Ramses' city is complete, the Hittites will attack Egypt, and Moses will have no choice but to take up his true mission."
"Then convince him to fight for his faith. Ramses will not allow his god, or the people who worship him, to continue existing."
With that, Nebchasetnebet left without once turning to look at the sorcerer.
The sorcerer watched him walk away and finally let out a chilling, ambiguous laugh.
"Fool. That woman you want… your brother may have already offered her to the true god…"
The whispered words dissolved into the wind.
.
.
.
anwhile, in the royal palace of mphis, Nefertari lay completely naked, prostrate beneath a fig tree in the garden, sighing. The sun's rays shone upon her soft body, casting a golden-bronze glow.
It was here, countless tis, that Ramses' hands had road her body, intoxicated by her fragrance.
When caressing her feet, he would kiss her thighs.
She was like a garden blooming with rare flowers, a cool pool, a distant land where frankincense trees grew. When she and he beca one, their passion surged like the flooding Nile—unstoppable.
"This journey is so long…" the young queen sighed. She missed her husband's embrace dearly.
She yearned for the sensation of the Pharaoh's lips brushing every part of her body. In this longing, she always rembered another feeling—one that made her cheeks flush red like jasper.
For Egyptian queens, their first night was always ant to be offered to the gods.
Nefertari was an exception.
Ramses' love for her allowed her to give her wedding night to him instead. And to this day, not a single priest had laid claim to her in the na of any god.
She understood well that in Ramses' heart, his family was the greatest.
But when a god descended, it seed a new idea had been born in him—and Nefertari believed the priests would never accept this idea.
Nefertari lifted her head.
The fig tree's dense branches and leaves created a green canopy that shielded her body from the harsh sunlight. Its turquoise-colored branches and ripening fruits had always provided perfect cover for her and her husband.
Should she really follow the sorcerer's suggestion—conceal it from the man she loved, and "unite" with another "being" here?
Certainly, Ramses might fulfill his wish through this. His family would gain eternal glory. But… would he accept it?
He was a proud man.
Nefertari wanted to avoid this terrifying thought, yet the sacred power of that being still lingered in her body. It didn't die out—in fact, it grew stronger with each passing day.
She could feel a mysterious river of creation forming within her.
The once-solid rocky landscape was being eroded into cliffs guarding the great river.
Sunlight lit the rocks from within, sending them tumbling into the solemn holy stream, revealing the pristine sky they once concealed.
"Perhaps it's better to obey fate." The thought flickered through her mind.
Why extinguish this uncontrollable passion?
She was a girl nourished by love—frail and tenacious. She worshipped Hathor, the goddess of love and motherhood, and believed that if she did not die for love, then she would be reborn through it.
She loved Ramses, for he possessed the grandeur and nobility of a divine king.
To adore the strong and trample the weak—both were in humanity's nature.
The north wind blew, bending the fig tree's branches and leaves downward, covering the young queen's blushing face—then completely hiding this alluring scene from view.
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