King Tiglath-Pileser III stood on the elevated terrace of his palace in Nineveh, overlooking the sprawling city below. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a twilight glow over the Tigris River and the lively streets of the city. Behind him, the imposing ziggurat of Nineveh rose towards the darkening sky, its tiers dedicated to the gods Ashur and Ishtar, who had bestowed strength and prosperity upon Assyria.
As the sounds of city life softened into a distant murmur, Tiglath-Pileser III allowed himself a rare moment of solitude. His mind, accustomed to the grave decisions of governance and the strategies of conquest, now turned inward.
From the streets below, the aroma of cooking fires mingled with the chatter of merchants closing their stalls for the night. Two elderly men leaned against the mud-brick wall of a nearby house, discussing the day's events.
"I heard the king's armies have reached the Euphrates again," one said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "The gods favour Assyria, they say."
"Aye, but at what cost?" the other replied with a sigh. "Every year, more young men leave for war, and our fields suffer for it."
Meanwhile, children played nearby, their laughter could be heard through the narrow alleys between sun-dried mud-brick houses. A woman emerged from a modest dwelling, balancing a woven basket on her hip as she called to her children to come inside for supper.
Tiglath-Pileser III contemplated the divine mandate that had placed him on the throne, the responsibility to uphold justice and order in a realm that stretched from the Mediterranean Sea to the mountains of Persia. The victories won in battle were not just acts of expansion but affirmations of Ashur's favour and Ishtar's protection over Assyria's destiny as a dominant force in the ancient world.
Despite the triumphs, Tiglath-Pileser III pondered the sacrifices—the lives lost in campaigns, the hardships endured by those who toiled to build and defend Assyria's cities. His thoughts drifted to the people who looked to him not just as a king, but as a protector and provider, sanctioned by the gods.
He thought about the fleeting nature of power and the legacy he would leave behind. The inscriptions on the palace walls extolled his conquests and the glory of his reign, but he wondered how future generations would remember him—as a warrior-king or as a steward of Assyria's greatness under the watchful eyes of Ashur and Ishtar.
Turning his gaze towards the distant mountains, now silhouetted against the deepening twilight, Tiglath-Pileser III marvelled at the natural defences that guarded his empire. The rugged peaks reminded him of the resilience required to lead a nation through times of peace and war, to balance ambition with the will of the gods.
Above all, amid the grandeur of Nineveh and the whispers of its people under the fading light, Tiglath-Pileser III found solace in the belief that his reign was not just about earthly power, but about fulfilling a larger cosmic order ordained by Ashur and Ishtar.
As Tiglath-Pileser III stood in contemplation on the terrace of his palace, a sudden, violent tremor shattered the tranquil evening. The ground beneath him convulsed, and before his astonished eyes, nine enormous draconic heads burst forth from various points across Nineveh. Each head was crowned with shimmering scales that glinted ominously in the twilight.
The city erupted into chaos as the azure dragons unleashed their fury. With each thunderous roar, buildings crumbled and streets cracked under their immense weight. Dark and sky blue flames spewed from their gaping maws, engulfing everything in their path in searing destruction.
The people of Nineveh, caught unawares by this supernatural onslaught, fled in terror from the advancing dragons. Screams pierced through the city as families were separated, homes reduced to rubble, and lives shattered by the ceaseless rampage of the ancient beasts.
Tiglath-Pileser III's heart sank as he beheld the devastation unfolding before him. His mind raced with disbelief and horror, grappling with the sheer scale of the catastrophe that engulfed Assyria's proud capital. The gods Ashur and Ishtar, upon whom he had relied to safeguard his realm, seemed to have abandoned him without warning.
Military commanders scrambled to organise a defence, but their efforts were met with futility against foes of such colossal and otherworldly might. Flaming arrows, ignited with pitch, and barbed arrows designed for penetration, began to degrade into nothing just before reaching the dragons' scales, leaving even the bravest warriors recoiling in fear at their wrath.
In the distance, the once-proud ziggurat of Nineveh, carved with the history and glory of Assyria, now crumbled beneath the dragons' fiery breath, a poignant symbol of the empire's impending doom.
Above the chaos and despair, the Assyrian king raised his voice, rallying his people with a determination born of desperation. "Stand firm!" he called out, his words resonating through the smoke-choked air. "We will not falter! We are Assyria, chosen by the gods to endure!"
But even as he spoke, he felt a sense of futility washed over him, prompting an inner query: 'What in Ishtar's womb am I doing?' He understood deep down that the empire would not withstand this catastrophic trial, and that Nineveh, the jewel of Assyria, would inevitably fall to these monstrous invaders.
Meanwhile, atop a sturdy guard tower, Tartanu Sargon stood conflicted, wrestling with the impulse to leap and plummet to his death. From his vantage point, he surveyed the devastation wrought by the dragons once more: Nineveh lay in ruins, its buildings reduced to rubble, flames consuming what little remained of the once-thriving city.
The dragons' rampage spared little in their path of destruction. Yet, miraculously, the guard tower where Sargon stood remained standing. Earlier, he had watched in disbelief as one of the dragon heads loomed dangerously close, its massive form threatening to topple the tower. Then, inexplicably, it had left. Relief raced through Sargon's mind as he lay low. The dragons, it seemed, had paused in their onslaught, perhaps sensing no more threats. For a brief moment, Sargon allowed himself to believe that divine intervention had spared him. Tears welled in his eyes as he dared to hope that the worst was over.
Beside him lay the lifeless figure of a fallen comrade, her throat slit—a tragic sacrifice that inadvertently saved them both. An eagle was feeding on her remains. Sargon glanced at the bloodstained dagger on the floor, pondering if it might provide a preferable choice to leaping from the tower. He felt as though he had achieved nothing in his life but had borne witness to the annihilation of everything he cherished.
A seasoned warrior, trained to lead armies and secure victories in the name of Assyria, Sargon now confronted this staggering calamity feeling utterly powerless and insignificant. The crushing weight of responsibility bore down on him, a burden too immense to shoulder alone. "Surely, this is all a nightmare," Sargon muttered to himself, "and when I awaken, I shall recount it to a dream interpreter. They and the king will discern what to make of this omen."
As he pondered, he noticed the dragons abruptly altering their course, veering ominously back towards his position. Gripped by fear, he dropped to the ground and feigned death.
Among the shattered remnants of the fallen empire strode a woman clad in pristine white armour, accented with snowy fur. Her imposing, spiky tail trailed behind her, leaving deep imprints in the scorched earth. From her back emerged nine dragon heads, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent as they scanned the distance for any oversight. The acrid scent of smoke and ash filled the air, mingling with distant cries. A playful smile lit up her lips.
One of the dragon heads descended towards the tower's pinnacle, its gaze fixed on the motionless man. "How delightful," commented the white-haired woman, her voice emanating from the extended head. "I preserved this tower just for your sake. Watching you hide earlier was rather amusing. Do you feel even the slightest tinge of embarrassment?"
Sargon trembled visibly, his voice quivering as he managed to murmur, "I... I was simply waiting for the opportune moment to strike." Unbeknownst to him, fear had gripped him so intensely that he had lost control, feeling the humiliating warmth of urine spreading and the shame of soiling himself, the unmistakable scent of faeces adding to his overwhelming sense of terror.
"Well, you took too long, insect," she retorted, her voice dripping with amusement. Sargon's eyes widened as he watched with paralysed horror. "No... don't... please..."
The dragon head moved forward with deliberate slowness, its massive jaws engulfing the guard tower whole. The crunch of crumbling stone and the snap of splintering wood filled the air, accompanied by a deep, satisfied rumble from the dragon.
She yawned casually, stretching languidly. "I think I'll take a nap here." Perched atop one of her dragon heads, her lithe form relaxed as she closed her eyes. The scent of burning wood mingled with miasmic smoke, drifting lazily around her. Meanwhile, the other heads remained vigilant.
As she drifted into slumber, three formidable warriors approached with cautious steps. Marduk led the trio, his towering figure crowned in authority among the gods. In his grip crackled Imhullu, the divine storm spear wreathed in celestial lightning, a weapon that asserted his dominion over storms and the natural world.
To Marduk's side strode Nergal, a figure of fearsome presence with a mane like a lion and eyes ablaze with intensity. His muscular frame and resolute stance marked him as a god of war and plague, his hand firmly gripping Gidimsar, a massive mace of death and destruction symbolising his authority over chaos.
On the other flank stood Ninurta, resplendent in gleaming armour adorned with thunderbolt motifs. His piercing eyes, fixed on the sleeping woman, betrayed his role as a warrior deity and protector of agriculture. At his side rested Sharur, the celestial mace pulsating with divine power, ready to strike at any sign of danger.
"Tiamat may sleep, but her draconic heads do not," declared Marduk, his voice resonating with authority. "Her form has changed, perhaps altered by the Master of the Deeps?"
Nergal's eyes narrowed, burning with heightened energy. "I cannot say. She boasts more heads now, yet her once potent chaos and wrath appear tempered. This moment is ripe to finally end her."
Ninurta gripped his weapon tighter. "Apsu's intervention spared Tiamat once, but this time, we shall not falter. Prepare yourselves."
Abruptly, one of Tiamat's colossal heads lunged at her humanoid form, violently shaking her from slumber. Her eyes snapped open, blazing with draconic fury, she retaliated with a restrained punch.
"Why don't you knock it off?!" she growled, hovering defiantly in the air. Her draconic eyes narrowed with focused intensity. "It's just those three pests; you could have handled them without my help."
The shockwave from her slightest punch surged upward with cataclysmic force, tearing through the fabric of reality and obliterating countless omniverses.
Yet, in an instant, everything snapped back into place. "Must be the Void's doing. She seems to be fixing things at her own whim," she mused aloud, her voice ringing through the stillness that followed. Her gaze drifted skyward, as if seeking answers from the stars themselves.
On the desolate ground, the remnants of the Neo-Assyrian Empire still lay in ruins. Once-grand structures now cast as mere shadows against the horizon, their former glory a distant memory swallowed by time and decay.
Awkwardly landing on all fours, her humanoid form still unfamiliar, she pushed herself upright and inquired, "So, where are the others?" She noticed some drool on her face and sipped it back into her mouth.
Marduk stepped forward, his majestic stature casting a shadow. "They are coming, but you will fall before that." With a primal roar, he unleashed divine energy, power coursing through his muscles and radiating an aura of ancient strength.
Tiamat scoffed, her voice laced with scorn and mockery. "Fool, do you still cling to the lies you spread among mortals? I crushed you and your army single-handedly last time. Were it not for the Void, or Apsu as you three fleshies ignorantly call her, you would have perished aeons ago."
Unperturbed by her taunt, Nergal and Ninurta bellowed their battle cries, divine power radiating from their robust, muscular frames as they prepared for the inevitable clash with Tiamat.
Ninurta gripped Sharur with both hands, invoking Heroic Prosperity as a green-winged lion roared forth from the aura, empowering his comrades to extraordinary heights. "Brothers, Sharur compels us to shatter her into a thousand pieces!"
Marduk's eyes widened suddenly, his canine teeth bared as he aimed his storm spear at Tiamat and yelled, "Imhullu Tempest!" Blue lightning surged from its tip, engulfing the armoured woman and her draconic heads in a swirling tornado of thunderous energy.
Nergal conjured a duplicate of his mighty mace, Gidimsar, and wielded them both. He spat on both weapons, enchanting them with a red plague that dripped ominously. "Hehehe, Tiamat, your heads will adorn my wall." With a savage grin, he charged forward, intent on smashing Tiamat with his twin maces.
Tiamat called out, "K'Ynghu!" and one of her dragon heads spat out a gigantic broadaxe, which she seized with ease, the weapon glinting menacingly in her grasp. The ground quaked beneath her, disrupting Marduk's Imhullu Tempest, but Nergal remained undeterred. "I never learned restraint!" he declared defiantly. Closing in on Tiamat, he braced himself to deliver a decisive strike.
"Heh," Tiamat smirked, her expression hollow. With a mighty swing of her colossal axe, she met Nergal head-on. The clash was brief yet intense—the duplicated mace shattered upon impact, sending shards of dark energy scattering. Enraged, his skin flushed a Furious Red as he tightened his grip on Gidimsar with both hands. "Danger only fuels my strength!"
'Ninurta, Nergal is in mortal peril! You must levitate him away from her immediately!' Sharur's telepathic advice rang urgently in Ninurta's mind. Without hesitation, Ninurta manipulated the ground beneath Nergal, launching him into the air. Channelling the potent energies of Sharur, Ninurta enveloped Nergal in a protective aura, guiding him briskly to safety just as Tiamat's Wrathful Strike narrowly missed its mark and dropped with cataclysmic force. The earth erupted like a tsunami, molten lava spraying from the ground in fiery arcs. The sheer impact shattered the landscape, sending tremors that threatened to consume all in their path.
Drawing on his affinity with the earth, Ninurta exerted his will to calm the roiling land around Marduk and himself. The tremendous effort drained him, leaving him gasping for breath. Blood gushed from his lips as he clutched his chest, a crushing pain radiating through him. He struggled to stay upright, his vision blurring and his heart pounding erratically from the overwhelming strain of wielding such potent energies. Yet he persisted, ensuring all their safety despite the excruciating toll on his own body.
Marduk couldn't help but smile in triumph. "Well done, both of you. The plan worked perfectly." Imhullu crackled with unimaginable power, bolts of blue lightning arcing wildly from its tip. Even with both hands, Marduk struggled to maintain control, the divine spear pulsing as if it had a will of its own, radiating an aura that distorted the very air around it.
"Tiamat, in the wake of the devastation you've wrought, a new order must be forged," he proclaimed, his gaze faltering momentarily as it met each of her nine heads, each a grim reminder of her monstrous might. "We shall carve out nine realms—or mayhaps ten, should your human guise be counted. I eagerly await the dawn of my new domain."
Ninurta levitated himself, rising to join Nergal in surveying the battlefield from above. With conviction, Nergal proclaimed, "Let's end this!" He hurled his mace at Tiamat with unbridled fury, the weapon transforming into a roaring red lion mid-flight, its fierce aura blazing through the air. Simultaneously, Ninurta closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in deep concentration as he summoned massive meteors from the heavens, their fiery tails streaking across the sky. Below them, Marduk tightened his grip on Imhullu, the divine storm spear crackling with uncontrollable power. Thrusting the spear forward, he hollered, "Enūma Eliš!"
A colossal, thunderous beam of energy erupted from the spear, surging towards Tiamat with unstoppable force, illuminating the battlefield in a blinding flash. The ground shook violently, and the air vibrated with the sheer power of their combined assault, as the three gods unleashed their fury upon the primordial abyss.
Tiamat caught Gidimsar with her hand, extinguishing the red lion's aura by ripping its mane away with brute force, reducing it to a defeated lioness that vanished with a pitiful cry. K'Ynghu's Entropy Shield then rose autonomously, effortlessly warding off the continuous barrage of attacks. "All these attacks are just too cute. What am I to do with you three?" she taunted, a smirk playing on her lips.
Suddenly, bleeding human arms sprang forth from K'Ynghu and across the battlefield, their blood coalescing into a mist of entropy that spread across countless omniverses, enveloping them in a shroud of dissolution. The gods' attacks dissolved into nothingness, their efforts rendered futile in the face of the Abyss' bottomless power.
"Don't fret," Tiamat sneered, her eyes alight with sadistic delight. "K'Ynghu won't dispatch you three just yet. That wouldn't amuse me." She peered with a barbaric glare, her draconic heads poised and watchful, heightening the oppressive sense of looming doom.
"Strength alone will prevail in the end!" Nergal's voice boomed from the sky, his fists and legs as unyielding as adamantium. "Tiamat, prepare to be crushed and cast back into the abyss!" His triumphant roar rang as he broke free from Sharur's levitation magic. Hands clasped above his head, he descended like a blazing comet toward the silver woman, flames engulfing his spinning form.
But one of K'Ynghu's sinewy arms coiled around Nergal's fists with an iron grip, crushing even adamantium. In a rapid, deliberate motion, Tiamat swung Gidimsar. Its baneful force struck Nergal squarely in the groin, causing him to cry out in pain as he was launched through the air, his body twisting in agony.
Already airborne and reacting with lightning reflexes, Ninurta intercepted Nergal mid-flight, the mace still embedded in the latter's groin. Their strength waning, they crash-landed on a heap of elephant dung, surrounded by the clamour of Marduk and Tiamat. As Marduk fought desperately for survival, Tiamat awaited a demonstration of greater power from him.
"Ninurta, how long will the healing take? If you can get Nergal back up, he and I can execute an experimental combination attack we've been practising," Marduk said, pausing to take a deep breath before doubling his size and raising his godly strength from 30,000% to 70,000%. His voice deepened as he continued, "It's an attack that could turn the tide, but it's risky. Nergal would relish it, but I might not."
Ninurta's response was resolute. "Your majesty, the process shouldn't be prolonged. My knowledge of healing magic and medicine, including severe injuries like a shattered groin, is thorough." His gaze hardened with determination as he reached into his celestial satchel adorned with glyphs of healing, withdrawing sacred tools infused with divine power.
With practised precision, Ninurta embarked on a meticulous operation, the celestial bronze scalpel gleaming under the harsh battle light. Each incision was exact, honed by aeons of forbidden knowledge and ethically dubious experiments. As he delicately extracted a shattered remnant of Gidimsar from Nergal's torn flesh, the world around them faded into nothing.
Marduk's body glistened with sweat under the intense pressure of battle, yet his sense of purpose burned fiercer than ever. Drawing a breath that crackled with electricity, he infused his heroic charge with Imhullu, envisioning victory unfolding before him like a grand saga. Yet, in a sudden and brutal turn, Tiamat's tail struck like a meteor, shattering the spear into a hundred thousand shards and tearing both of Marduk's arms away in a violent spray of blood and agony. He crumpled to the ground, a long, anguished cry escaping his lips.
"Tiamat, we're far from finished. You have yet to become the realm I envisioned as a child," Marduk declared through gritted teeth, his voice strained with pain. His eyes, burning with undying passion, locked onto hers. "Countless times I imagined it—the Anunnaki celebrating atop your defeated form in a haven befitting a supreme god." Blood dribbled from his lips as he spat defiantly onto her silver greaves.
"Imagine the finest chefs crafting exquisite dishes from your monstrous remains," he continued, his voice now a mix of defiance and reverence. "And your divine, womanly form—I would elevate you to a supreme goddess, worthy of worship. Together, we would sire powerful, noble offspring who would surpass the heavens themselves."
Tears streamed down Marduk's face as he spoke from the depths of his heart. His voice softened, filled with both desperation and tenderness. "You know, I've always felt destined for greatness, yet it wasn't until I beheld you that I truly understood. From that moment, your allure captured me completely. I cannot envision a world where you do not play a pivotal role. What I've always wanted to tell you is that I... I cherish you deeply."
Tiamat cast a disdainful glance, her expression void of any emotion. "The mightiest primordial dragon, coupling with a lowly and perverted deity like you? Know your place, insect!" With unmistakable contempt, she spat in his face.
Marduk's response was measured, his voice tinged with reflection. "The tales spun for mortals were not of my weaving, but of Ea's," he explained. "He deemed them necessary. Though I understand his reasons, I often wish those tales had a different conclusion... Nonetheless, I'm thankful we're conversing rather than merely clashing like brutes. Though I admit," he added with a wry smile, "there was a charm to our skirmishes."
As Marduk tasted the essence of Tiamat's saliva, he was struck by the complexity of her flavours, ranging from the familiar umami to subtle hints that transcended divine comprehension. A sense of profound connection swept over him. "...An indirect kiss..." he whispered, his expression serene. "In this moment, I find... solace." His words began to tumble out in fragmented murmurs, his gaze distant and unfocused, immersed in a conversation only he could hear.
"So be it, you've grown senile and weak," Tiamat jeered. Her eyes swept over the smouldering ruins of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. "Speaking of Ea," she continued with a contemptuous smirk, "you promised reinforcements, yet fear has shackled them all, hasn't it?" With a piercing gaze into the abyss, she expanded the Abyss Realm from within her, its darkness spreading like a consuming tide.
The three gods found themselves transported into a surreal realm where azure, tranquil waters sprawled endlessly beneath their feet. Above, a sky inverted like a mirrored world cast a strange, otherworldly glow. Desolate buildings stood sentinel around the waters, their silent forms adding to the unsettling ambiance.
With two handclaps that seemed to ripple through the very fabric of the realm, Tiamat summoned forth all the gods and their armies who had once clashed in battle against her. In an instant, a million deities materialised, their presence causing a ripple of confusion and awe among them.
"Well, hello everyone," Tiamat greeted with a warm, yet enigmatic smile. One of her heads dipped impatiently into the waters, drinking deeply, while another burst into hearty laughter.
"Incredible, it's Tiamat, the Abyssal Dragon of Ruination!" Anu's voice echoed with a mix of awe and fear. "I surrender! Spare me and my family; we pledge loyalty to you, Empress Tiamat!" His arm trembled as he gestured to the other gods. "Come on, everyone, join me in pledging allegiance!"
The name of Tiamat thundered through the silence of the abyss, stirring a deep resonance. One by one, the gods sank to their knees—some in despair, others in reverent awe.
"Cease this foolishness at once!" Marduk gasped between laboured breaths, his words laced with delusion and hallucination. "Tiamat can be defeated. Believe in yourselves. Believe in me!" A goddess rushed to his side, her hands a blur of healing and mud magic, sculpting replacement arms for the fallen god. Her brow furrowed with concern as she worked, her eyes never leaving Marduk's anguished countenance.
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Ea's voice, heavy with melancholy, deepened the already suffocating atmosphere. "Without Apsu, our fate is sealed. And you... you are perilously adrift in madness. Even if you weren't, we both know where your true loyalties lie. You yearned for Tiamat's victory, to see her rule over us all." He raised his head towards the inverted world above, his expression betraying a longing to escape the grim reality. "You wore the crown in name alone; it was I who bore the weight of leadership and strategy." His gaze, sharp and discerning beneath flowing aquamarine locks, fixed intently on what he believed was his reflection. A subtle hopelessness flickered in his deep, turquoise eyes, hinting at the gravity of his words. From a distance, he resembled a goddess whose soul had gone astray, a tragic beauty adrift in a world of shadows.
Enlil, bearing Ea's features but with a sturdier physique and vibrant green hair, stood in silence, arms crossed. Nearby, Ninurta lay unconscious, having pushed himself to the brink, his face resting on Nergal's wounded groin. The scent, though oddly pleasant to Ashur, underscored the urgency of their situation. With a serious facade, he turned to Ea, urgency colouring every word.
"Ea, we urgently require your healing prowess! Nergal's and Ninurta's lives hang by a thread, and time slips away from us in this crucial hour. We must unite all our strength to face this threat. With our combined intellect and the might of our armies, we can find a way through this darkness towards the light."
"...None of you have the courage to face me?" mocked Tiamat, her gaze brimming with arrogance as she surveyed the hesitant gods.
Then, unexpectedly, Ishtar stepped forward and with a boldness that caught everyone off guard. She prostrated herself before Tiamat and humbly licked Marduk's blood from her silver greave.
Tiamat tilted her heads in unison and clasped her fingers together, a smile playing on her lips that belied her deep, menacing voice. "Thanks to Ishtar's audacity, a sliver of mercy graces me today. Whoever cleans the other greave will be saved by whatever pitiful hope remains. Apart from her, only one other shall I spare. Enjoy bashing each other's heads in. Let the torment commence!"
The gods who hadn't surrendered to despair hesitated briefly, exchanging glances. In that tense moment, Ishkur, the God of Storms, surged forward on his raging bull, only to tumble off in an awkward fall. He quickly regained his feet, visibly annoyed.
"What are you all gawking at? Clear off," he bellowed, stripping off Nergal's undergarment that he had donned. He paused to sniff it before plunging it into the waters. "Empress Tiamat would demand clean fabrics for her greave. I am a fool!" He muttered in frustration. "I have despoiled it at the worst possible moment."
Nabu, the God of Wisdom, let out a soft chuckle.
"Ishkur, always hungry for a spectacle... and eager to steal the limelight," he remarked, his smile fading into a stern gaze. "Very well. I will ensure you face the most rigorous trials. Let's start with a lesson suited to your... simplicity." With a firm grip on his enchanted stylus, Nabu strode purposefully toward Ishkur.
As Nabu repeatedly drove his stylus towards Ishkur's head, intent on imparting his meaningful lessons, Ningal, the Goddess of Rebirth, felt compelled to interject with her own wisdom.
"A task so trivial, if only these imbeciles would recognise what is rightfully mine," she remarked, her voice carrying a hint of disdain as she strode confidently toward Tiamat.
Passing her husband, she added, "And Nanna, do not be too quick to judge. Ishkur took advantage and stole my undergarment while I was bathing. He will answer for this once I have triumphed over Tiamat's trial," Ningal declared with a haughty laugh. "In any case, I will be the sole survivor."
"I haven't said a word. Frankly, it's not my concern at the moment. As you rightly pointed out, Tiamat's trial should be your immediate priority." Nanna, the God of the Moon, advanced cautiously, his silver eyes revealing the weight of his predicament.
"Ishtar's manoeuvre seems to have temporarily quelled Tiamat's wrath," he murmured, his gaze sombre as he observed the gods locked in brutal strife. "May the most deserving among us triumph and survive this harrowing trial."
Anu's shouts sparked more chaos and violence. "Stand back! Allow me the honour of cleaning Tiamat's leg plates!" he thundered. With no one heeding his command, he pressed on, "How dare you all ignore me? I am your father!"
Ningal, her patience worn thin, forcefully pushed the old man to the ground, her hands tightening around his throat. "It's past time you retired, old fool," she snapped. Anu panicked and managed to pry Ningal's hand away, but she retaliated by landing several punches on his face, leaving him on the brink of unconsciousness.
Enlil rode the currents towards Tiamat, his mastery of the winds propelling him forward. Soaring high above, he deftly dodged arrows and magical attacks aimed his way, with Ashur clinging to his leg like a stalking shadow.
"I'll say this once. Release me, Ashur," Enlil ordered, each wind-fueled kick aimed at dislodging him. But Ashur clung on tenaciously, his battered face showing resilience. "Only after you take me directly to Tiamat."
Changing tactics, Enlil's divine energy flared as he gripped Ashur's face with one hand, forcefully yanked him from his leg, and flung him into the waters below. Ashur appeared to land safely, but then one knee buckled, its bone fractured; he savoured the pain. Enlil came down, delivering a punishing shoulder tackle driven by wind, then grasped Ashur's head, forcing it beneath the water's surface.
"You should have heeded my warning when you had the chance. Now, you meet your end."
"It's hopeless," Ninurta confessed, his body trembling as he awoke, feeling Ea's healing magic restoring him. "Fear has taken root in me. I've always known our chances were slim from the outset. I tried to be heroic to compensate for my shortcomings..." He knelt among the other defeated gods, his voice heavy with resignation. "I understand the mortal who feigned death in the guard tower. I understand him all too well." Ninurta gently touched Nergal's groin to assess its healing. "Always small... just like the meaning of our lives."
Nergal grimaced in agony and lashed out at Ninurta.
"Ninurta, you cowardly bastard, you're exuding such feeble energy when you should be projecting strength...! Ugh! Even when fully healed, I'm still feeling this phantom agony...!" He pushed himself upright. "Let me remind you, it's not about size but spirit. And mine is always battling and enduring!"
"I've expended every ounce of my efforts on both of you," Ea lamented bitterly. "But why do I bother healing you buffoons? Look at the massacre..."
A god, assuming Ea was distracted, charged toward him with a spear. In a breathtaking blend of magic and martial prowess, Ea redirected the spear back toward its wielder with amplified force, instantly killing him. The god met his end with a satisfied beam. "...None of us will survive to see another dawn."
Blood from a distant god splashed onto Tiamat's face. She wiped it away with her gauntlet, examining it closely. "Impressive," she remarked, her gaze fixed on the slaughters before her. With a casual flick, she tossed K'Ynghu into the air, one of her heads catching and swallowing it effortlessly.
Glancing down, she noticed Ishtar persistently licking her leg plates, even though they were blood-free. Tiamat extended her gauntlet toward Ishtar, who began licking it, finger by finger. Then, with a soft, almost reverent touch, she carefully removed Tiamat's gauntlet and licked her bare hands, her tongue warm and vivacious against the cool skin.
"I hope you're in a favourable mood, Mother," Ishtar said cautiously.
From a rift that rent the fabric of the Abyss realm, a void tore open, and atop a desolated building emerged a tall man with flowing cyan hair, draped in an ebony Belstaff trenchcoat.
"Is this truly how you entertain yourself? Preying on these weaklings?" Ouroboros's voice oozed with disdain. "These gods are nothing but pitiful eyesores. Their weakness disgusts me."
"You do realise I'm nowhere near my full power, right?" Tiamat chuckled lightly. "Since you're here, got any bright ideas for waking up my Metaphysical Might? It's been catching some serious Zs."
As if propelled by a will of their own, tendrils of water enveloped the fallen gods one by one, transforming them into Abyssal Aberrations.
"Oh, perfect timing!" remarked Tiamat, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. "Finally, some tangible results."
Ouroboros spoke, but Tiamat's attention was drawn away as Marduk plunged onto the waters, nearly overcome by an aberration.
"Enough, everyone, cease!" Tiamat's command manifested as a force of tempest, stirring a powerful gust of wind that formed a vortex overhead. The unnatural waters beneath their feet churned as the hurricane-like formation gathered strength. Gradually, as Tiamat's aura calmed the turbulence, the swirling winds began to disperse, merging back into faint mists of the Abyss Realm. "I'm feeling especially merciful today. Gather before me, for I bring good tidings."
All the clothes of the deities were soaked. Some spat out the water, while others swallowed, finding it the most refreshing they had ever tasted.
Fury contorted Nergal's crimson features as he mercilessly drove his repaired mace into a goddess' backside. "No one commands me! We finish only when I decree it!"
From Ea's outstretched hand sprang a whip of water, which he used to choke Nergal into compliance. "This buffoon means to convey our readiness to comply, Empress Tiamat."
The gods gathered in a solemn assembly before Tiamat, their demeanour a mix of apprehension and deference. The aberrations vanished in an instant, only to reappear behind Tiamat, their hungry eyes fixated not just on their enemies but on everything around them—the white-haired woman, their own kind, and the very essence of the Abyss realm itself. The woman's dragon heads darkened, twisting into horrifying forms as they kept them in thrall with their Eldritch Gaze.
However, Tiamat struggled to control her eldritch powers, causing all but her and Ouroboros to teeter on the brink of madness. With her arm outstretched, she chanted a healing spell in an eldritch language, its echoes resonating in every corner of the Abyss, bound by her primordial essence. Suddenly, the minds of the deities and aberrations expanded until they enveloped their entire beings. Emerging from an evil chrysalis, they metamorphosed anew, their bodies healed and their sanity restored.
Meanwhile, Ouroboros lounged against a moss-covered wall, a pipe dangling from his lips. He drew a contemplative drag, letting the smoke coil around him before releasing it into the misty abyss with a slow exhale. With a tap, he emptied the pipe's bowl over the waters and lifted his gaze, his expression relaxed.
Speaking aloud to himself, he pondered, "That man... he claimed to be an outer god and mentioned the Tenebris Monochrome, but said little else. He seemed preoccupied with thoughts of painting. I wonder, is painting truly so engrossing?"
"...You insects are a piece of work! Making your empress toil so hard. It must be awful having no resistance to Metaphysical Might, bending so easily to a primordial's whims. But now that you're all finally back to normal..." Tiamat opened a portal and continued, "From what I gather, the rumours circulating about me and Marduk's boorish remarks of using my body to forge new worlds indicate dissatisfaction with your current realm, which is understandable since it's a cesspit." Ishtar gently stroked one of Tiamat's scales, her touch soothing the giant serpent's tough, metallic hide. "You're in luck because I'm in need of guardians for my Luminous Garden. It's a breathtaking realm, but I foresaw that my malevolent powers would unleash dangerous creatures. Exterminating those pests is beneath me, but it's a task suited to you barbarians."
"What kind of jest is this?" asked Marduk, his voice attempting sternness but faltering.
"In truth, you alone shall remain," Tiamat declared, her voice a blend of mischief and command. With a playful yet menacing flourish, she theatrically gestured with her hand. "As I depart, these abyssal beasts crave leadership. Henceforth, I name you Admiral of my Abyssal Legion."
The other gods froze in place, their reactions akin to startled deer, as one of Tiamat's colossal heads approached. It gently nudged Marduk's head with its snout, while Ishtar perched atop it, wearing a curious expression.
Marduk's arms, sculpted from a goddess's mud magic, transformed into two abyssal appendages.
"No need for gratitude," said Tiamat. "Simply repay my kindness and generosity by ensuring my Abyssal Legion grows in power, conquers, and unifies the other fragments of the Abyss." She directed one of her heads to point towards the portal, causing it to emit a low growl. "As for the rest of you, line up at the portal for Luminous Garden."
Empowered by the surging abyssal forces, Marduk's transformation unfolded with unnerving grandeur. His once wild, ebony locks now flowed with a deep blue reminiscent of the saltwater ocean's uncharted depths. His eyes, formerly dark as a moonless night, blazed with an unearthly purple luminescence.
As he stood, his towering form clad in crimson armour, the hue of freshly spilled blood, perfectly complemented his newly formed draconic arms. With each breath, flames flickered from him, casting a defying glow that clashed with the darkness of the Abyss.
"Imh'Ulu A'Reth!" His first words resonated with primal power, echoing throughout the realm. From the shattered remnants of Imhullu, two immense swords materialised before him, their edges pulsating with an oppressive aura that whispered promises of destruction and domination.
Tiamat observed with approval, "In your Bloodshed Incarnate attire, you have become a red dragon of death, Marduk. Lead my Abyssal Legion forth to unleash utter decimation."
Marduk nodded solemnly, and with that, the legion vanished.
"The brute loomed larger than Nemesis himself," Ouroboros remarked coolly, his form coalescing next to the portal leading to Luminous Garden. With a flick of his wrist, he casually tossed his pipe into the depths below.
"Another red dragon, huh... Ignatius, the Devourer of Worlds, or Muspelheim, the Eternal Conflagration—depending on the omniverse—is said to be the most formidable of its kind. Like Glacialus, the Endless Frost, he stands among the rare Mutated Primordials whose power exceeds the very design of Ginnungagap, their creator. Rumour has it that Ignatius clashed with Apathraxis, the Harbinger of Oblivion. I wonder if their battle still echoes through the ages..."
A soft murmur passed among the gathered deities.
Utu narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. "If I'm not mistaken, that's Apsu."
"That's him?" Enlil queried, assessing the man critically. "Colour me unimpressed."
"I've heard the legends," murmured Nanna, his voice tinged with awe. "Never thought I'd see him in the flesh."
Ouroboros smirked, enjoying the stir his presence had caused. His gaze shifted back to Tiamat, who stood imperious and unbothered. "Except for Apathraxis, the Abyssal Demon of Nihilism who served the Boundless Void like a dog, I neither know nor care for any of them," she declared with regal indifference. "If this realm holds your interest, Ouroboros, you are welcome to remain. Should my underling captivate you more, pursue him. All are beneath my notice."
"Tsk, I'll pass. I came to see if you had conjured anything of interest," Ouroboros retorted dismissively.
With a flicker of amusement in his eyes, he strode into the portal, followed by Tiamat and the retinue of gods.
Upon stepping into Luminous Garden, the pantheon of Mesopotamian gods was struck silent. They found themselves enveloped in a mystical realm where ethereal blue-hued trees reached skyward, their leaves shimmering like sapphire. Beneath a colossal blue moon, white flowers glowed softly, casting gentle pools of light across the landscape. The air itself seemed to pulse with tranquillity and healing, each breath bringing a sense of renewal to their ancient souls. It was as if they had stumbled upon a sanctuary where divine energies hummed in harmony with the rhythms of the cosmos.
Tiamat materialised and tossed the Tablet of Destinies to Ishtar, who remained perched atop one of her dragon heads, now embracing it. As Ishtar caught the tablet, an unspeakable power coursed through her, triggering a metamorphosis. Her stature grew taller and more imposing. Draconic horns burst forth from her head. Wings unfurled from her back, their sturdy membrane catching the ambient light. Eyes once human now gleamed with mythical intensity. Two sinuous tails emerged, their gold scales impenetrable, completing her transformation into a dragon goddess.
"If Marduk is my left hand, then you shall be my right, Ishtar," Tiamat proclaimed, her gaze meeting Ishtar's amber eyes framed by flowing orange hair. "As Marduk commands the abyssal sea, you will be my unrivalled dragon knight, sovereign of the skies themselves."
The Tablet of Destinies transmuted into Tiamat's Wrath, a verdant ensemble befitting Ishtar. With a Doomsday Scythe in hand and armour forged from scales drawn from diverse omniverses of Tiamat, she inspected the weapon, her eyes containing ambition. "I am deeply honoured, Mother," Ishtar proclaimed, her voice ringing with resolution and steadfast loyalty.
Ouroboros remarked with a whistle, "Seems like Ishtar is highly compatible with you; she wields exponentially more Metaphysical Might than you did when we clashed some time ago. And that Marduk was impressive as well. These two prominent guardians of yours would put Sathiel and Nemesis to shame. If only the lass unlocked her latent powers and Nemesis' power was unrestrained... a battle between those two pairs could be truly fascinating."
"Everyone, settle in while I attend to matters with Ouroboros," said Tiamat. A low growl reverberated from one of her heads, communicating a suggestion.
"Indeed, since the Abyss is my army, let us mould this place into a thriving empire. Its natural beauty calls to me. Keep that in mind! Ishtar, take charge, and Ea, support her," she directed, her gaze moving from one deity to the next with high expectations.
"As Empress Tiamat commands," Ishtar declared, springing from Tiamat's draconic head to stand airborne above the assembled gods. "We will shape this realm into an empire worthy of her vision." She glanced at Ea, demanding his support.
Ea, who had thought himself hidden and forgotten among the million deities, emerged regally. The gods parted to make way for him. "Understood, Ishtar. Together, we shall lay the foundations of this empire," he affirmed.
After the assembly was over, the gods dispersed, each assuming their designated roles in this burgeoning realm. Ishtar took charge of organising the divine populace. With a blend of strategic foresight and charismatic leadership, she orchestrated the allocation of tasks, fostering a sense of unity and purpose among the inhabitants.
Meanwhile, Ea, the venerable sage and advisor, delved into the workings of governance. He contemplated not just the logistics of resource management and infrastructure development, but also the philosophical underpinnings of divine rule. Conversations with Ishtar often turned to questions of justice, the nature of power, and the ethical responsibilities inherent in shaping a nascent civilisation.
Their partnership became a nexus of intellectual exploration and practical implementation. They debated the balance between individual freedom and communal welfare, pondered the role of divinity in mortal affairs, and grappled with the existential implications of their divine existence. Through their discussions and decisions, they sought to create not just an empire of material wealth, but a beacon of enlightenment and harmony in the celestial expanse.
In Tiamat's second realm, where time stands still and seasons do not pass, their philosophical debates are seamlessly intertwined with matters of governance. Every decision bore great importance, extending beyond the realm's borders to shape the civilisation they advanced.
The empire within Luminous Garden stands as a tribute to divine craftsmanship and ethereal beauty. Spread across rolling hills and valleys, the realm is adorned with white marble structures, their designs reflecting the celestial artistry of the gods. Tall, slender towers reach towards a perpetual twilight sky, where a colossal blue moon casts a gentle, iridescent glow over the landscape.
Gardens of exotic flora bloom in vibrant hues, their petals shimmering with a faint luminescence that bathes the surroundings in a soft, otherworldly light. Crystal-clear streams meander through the land, weaving between meticulously manicured gardens and tranquil courtyards adorned with statues of ancient gods and goddesses. Each pathway is lined with lanterns that illuminate the way with a warm, inviting radiance.
At the heart of the empire, atop the Axisarbour, stand crucial structures such as the Lunar Citadel. Its towering spires are crowned with sapphire domes that reflect the starlit heavens above. Within its walls, halls feature animated paintings depicting tales of myth and legend, while chambers of learning house vast libraries containing scrolls of ancient wisdom and knowledge.
The atmosphere within Luminous Garden's empire resonates with a sense of peace and prosperity, where the divine inhabitants work diligently to fulfil their roles in shaping a harmonious civilisation under the watchful guidance of Ishtar and Ea.
Meanwhile, atop the Axisarbour, Tiamat and Ouroboros withdrew to a chapter house nestled near the courtyards of the Blue Moon's Oath monastery, engrossed in deep conversation. Despite its outwardly unassuming appearance, the building functioned as an omniversal sanctuary where primordial beings, wielding immense Metaphysical Might, could bend time and space to their will. Within, its interior dimensions defied logic, appearing far larger and more expansive than its exterior suggested.
Ouroboros had urged Tiamat to allow him to take charge of their surroundings. With his willpower, he transformed the interior into a serene reflection of traditional eastern architecture. Sliding shoji screens adorned with cherry blossom patterns now divided the space, allowing filtered moonlight to paint soft patterns across the tatami floors. The air was imbued with the faint fragrance of sandalwood.
Seated across from each other in this transformed sanctum, the ambient sounds of nature outside mingled with the quiet murmurs of their conversation, creating a cocoon of serenity.
"...Thus, to sow terror among both gods and mortals, I planted one of my heads into their planet," Tiamat recounted with casual indifference. "Yet shortly thereafter, the Void intervened. What perplexes me is why? Am I not her first and most beloved child, the oldest non-concept?"
"Aha! The hotpot is ready!" Ouroboros exclaimed, dressed in his white Nike tank top, skillfully selecting lean chicken breast and tofu with his chopsticks. As he ate, he instinctively used his telekinesis, savouring bites of nutritious vegetables like shiitake mushrooms, broccoli, and spinach. "By the way, I opted for a light chicken broth—low in calories and sodium," he added nonchalantly.
Tiamat gave him a deadpan stare, clearly expecting a serious answer. Unfazed, Ouroboros continued to eat and speak. "The Void, specifically Lumi'Nae, is just a fragment. I'm not sure if she was this Apsu, but the formless Void has other vessels out there." His thoughts wandered to the man who resembled Lumi'Nae, a wild grin momentarily lifting his long cyan hair. Then, he coughed as he choked a bit, clearing his throat before adding, "I encountered one of them in the past. He was a painter, one of the Tenebris Monochrome—the name refers to the Void Incarnates collectively. Though they often work alone, some don't even bother remembering that term. Anyway we fought briefly; he remains the most powerful opponent I've ever faced."
"Oh, really? I thought that was just a rumour," Tiamat interjected, picking up a fork to examine the spread. Beside her lay her silver-armoured gloves. "Not your imaginary battle with another Void Incarnate—I mean, I didn't know they actually existed. Some have mistaken me for one. On second thought, perhaps I am one, and maybe I was your first Tenebris Monochrome opponent..."
She dipped a piece of tofu into the broth, savouring the wholesome flavours. "...Wow, it's delicious!" Tiamat complimented, chewing thoughtfully as she relished each bite. "I can see how it almost got the better of you. Heh, quite the warrior to almost succumb to a mere hotpot."
She continued, "Speaking of which, did you conjure this food or cook it yourself?"
Ouroboros chuckled, savouring another bite with the aid of his telekinesis and chopsticks. "As if you even had to ask! Of course, I did it manually. Here's how I did it:
I started by making a homemade chicken broth. I used a whole chicken along with ginger slices, garlic cloves, and a quartered onion. I simmered everything slowly for a couple of hours to really extract all the flavours, skimming off any foam that formed on the surface. Once the broth was done, I strained it to remove the solids, leaving a clear, rich broth that's low in calories and sodium.
For the hotpot ingredients, I prepared lean chicken breast, cutting it into thin slices, and firm tofu, which I diced into bite-sized pieces. For the vegetables, I chose shiitake mushrooms, broccoli, and spinach, but you can also add things like bok choy, napa cabbage, and enoki mushrooms if you like. I arranged everything on separate plates for easy access.
At the table, I set up our hotpot cooker and poured in the prepared broth, bringing it to a gentle simmer. From there, it's all about adding the ingredients as we eat. Start with the proteins like chicken and tofu since they take a bit longer to cook. Then add the vegetables, letting each item cook thoroughly before fishing it out with chopsticks or a small strainer. It's a communal and interactive way to eat, where everyone cooks their food in the broth at their own pace.
Remember to keep the broth at a gentle simmer and add more broth or water as needed to keep the pot from drying out. It's all about balance and enjoying the process."
Tiamat's expression remained unreadable yet subtly approving. "Hmm. Impressive, Ouroboros. Didn't think you had it in you to pull off something like this. The effort shows—can't deny that." She picked up a piece of tender chicken and some vegetables, appreciating the balanced flavours and the care in preparation. "It's decent enough. The chicken's tender, the veggies are alright. And the broth? Light, yeah, but not bad. A break from the usual, I'll give you that."
Ouroboros grinned, his long cyan hair catching the moonlight as he nodded. "Good food is like a well-crafted spell—every ingredient matters, and the process is just as important as the result. Plus, a well-prepared meal like this keeps our minds sharp and our bodies strong." The cerulean divine dragon tattoo coiled around his arms and neck seemed to stir with life.
"That was delicious," Tiamat admitted with a satisfied sigh as she emerged from the chapter house onto the grounds of the Blue Moon's Oath monastery. "I'm heading back to my palace to explore and indulge further. What about you?"
Ouroboros leaned casually against the trunk of a sacred tree, the dappling lunar light casting playful shadows on his features. "I think I'll linger here a while longer," he replied, his gaze wandering over the tranquil surroundings. "There's something about this place that appeals to me. I suppose this is where our paths diverge?"
In the vibrant streets of the Luminous Empire, a figure draped in flowing white appeared suddenly, drawing curious glances from passersby. Her hood obscured her face, while fiery red strands cascaded over her shoulders as she glanced around.
"I haven't been gone that long, have I?" Her voice, tinged with a hint of solemnity, was barely audible against the bustling backdrop. "It seems this place has changed in my absence."
Nergal's hand fell onto the woman's shoulder, his voice thick with hostility. "Prepare to meet your end, trespasser." Beside him, Ninurta regarded her with wary eyes, Sharur's wisdom echoing in his mind.
"I don't think we should provoke her," Ninurta cautioned.
"Nonsense," Nergal retorted, brushing off Ninurta's concern. "She may be dangerous, but I'm no stranger to danger. It only makes me stronger, rememb—"
Before Nergal could finish his boast, the woman seized his wrist with an iron grip, crushing it easily. In one swift motion, she tore his entire arm from its socket and hurled it skyward, where it disappeared into the ether. Nergal's cry of agony echoed through the air as he dropped Gidimsar and cradled his maimed limb.
Without delay, Nergal snatched up his mace and swung it at her with desperate force. Mid-swing, Gidimsar recoiled, its adamantium edges biting into his flesh as it struck him hard across the face. The impact shattered his nasal bones, fractured his maxilla and zygomatic bones, and tore open his skin. Blood sprayed from the multiple fractures and torn flesh as he staggered back, stunned by the severe blow.
Cracking her fists, Akashirae exuded an Aura of Inevitable Angst. "Barbarians now inhabit this realm? It appears I must show you who's alpha here." As her hood shifted slightly, her striking red eyes and sanguine warpaint came into view, accompanied by her psychopathic grin.
Terror etched itself onto Nergal's and Ninurta's faces as their minds, bodies, and souls were paralysed with fear across all omniverses. Ishkur, lost in thoughts of lying with Ningal, accidentally collided with Ninurta. Ningal's undergarment, which Ishkur always wore on his head, slipped over one eye from the impact. "What the fuck, man?!" he snapped, but his annoyance vanished the instant he saw the intimidating woman. Fear gripped him, mirroring the dread on his comrades' faces.