The Gameverse

LEVEL TWELVE- Timadaē Enuma

Gilgamesh sat on his throne, staring into the abyss beyond. It had been several eons since he and his idiot brother worked together on anything.

Not since they discovered the darkness. Not since the birth of Searte.
Definitely not since they found the six stones of Tæron, and unlocked these accursed powers.

Immortality became exhausting after the first million years or so. Humans became pests the got in your way and tried to force their own twisted forms of justice and ridiculous codes of honor and respect for all life.

Absolute. Bull. Shit.

No matter the cause, no matter the vision or the reasoning or even the faith, humanity had always been and would always prove to be existences largest threat.

The greed in the hearts of man would only grow. It was always about them, and for some reason the Worlds Will had decided to side with them every time.

Well then, why not create a new world? With a will you could bend to your own wishes?

Gilgamesh leaned back on his throne, heaving a heavy sigh. As a former human, he had no right to think this way. In the end, he was as human as he was when The Blue chose him as its avatar.

Futility.

The word drifted through his consciousness, bringing up old memories of his toil and effort in shaping the world as it was now. It had no meaning, this stretch of life.

Gilgamesh picked up a small rock with his mind, reshaping the molecules until it became water. He would return to his human form. He and his little brother.

At ANY cost.