Play the Villain - Chapter 125: Battlefield of Wedges and Chains

Even knowing it was blatant favoritism, the Beast Commander remained unfazed, frowning slightly before curling his lips into a cold smile.

“Even if Gorgon is revived, it’s meaningless. Apsu has already completed his domination over them…”

“Now, these newborns are nothing more than slaughter machines, executing their father’s will.”

“If I’m right, they’re headed for Uruk—to seize the other Greater Grail and further shorten the time Apsu needs to fully awaken.”

“If Apsu gets his hands on that, you won’t even last three days!”

Gilgamesh’s face darkened. Behind him, countless golden portals opened, unleashing volleys of swords, spears, and blades like a storm of bullets onto the earth below.

Laḫmu after Laḫmu were pinned to the ground, their bodies dissolving into red-black sludge.

Kingu sneered as he glanced down at the swarming Laḫmu, murmuring with disdain.

“Don’t waste your strength. So what if you stop them for now?”

“The other mana core—Apsu will stop at nothing to obtain it.”

“Gil... Gilgamesh... watch closely.”

“This is only the beginning...”

...

“Rumble!”

Almost at the same moment, thunder roared across the heavens. Dense storm clouds swept in like a colossal black hand, snuffing out Uruk’s faintly glowing weather control spell in an instant.

Within moments, torrential rain came crashing down, feeding the red-black tide and sending it surging outward with explosive force.

“Boom!”

A crimson wave erupted from the ground, shooting skyward as massive boulders and debris rained down. The once-lofty Mount Ebih collapsed completely.

Down the roaring flood came corrupted wraiths—twisted spirits radiating death, cloaked in flickering red and black miasma.

No way... Mount Ebih just exploded!

Samael stared at the rising smoke and the bloody tide sweeping downstream, his expression frozen.

Even if, as legend claims, Gilgamesh really had outfitted the northern wall with Uruk’s anti-Black Tide tech—the Fangs of Napishtim—the southern gate was wide open, sitting at the foot of Mount Ebih!

If the flood swept through that breach, Uruk wouldn’t last a single day!

Was this what it meant for a Divine Spirit of origin-level class to unleash its malice?

It was terrifying—there wasn’t even a second to catch your breath.

If Apsu had been fully restored, he probably would’ve torn the entire crust of the earth apart!

“Fall back to the south gate—now!”

Pale-faced, Samael shouted hoarsely, giving urgent orders to his squad.

“You go ahead!”

“I’ll hold the Black Tide here and take the chance to search for Apsu’s divine core!”

Gilgamesh didn’t hesitate. He turned and roared, as golden portals behind him rained endless waves of weapons onto the battlefield.

But the relentless downpour had diluted the red-black blood tide, and water—being formless—made pinpointing Apsu’s vital core like finding a needle in a sea of shadows.

Samael couldn’t help but suspect that due to Kingu’s rushed summoning, the Father of Creation was still incomplete.

Which was likely why, the moment Apsu obtained the Holy Grail—his magical core—he vanished into the abyss to begin restoring his divine authority.

With that in mind, the ancient serpent parted his lips, ready to offer some urgently needed advice.

“King Gilgamesh, perhaps we should fall back to Uruk and reassess our strategy!”

But the Hero King in his wise age showed no appreciation. As he turned to glance back, his presence exuded a pressure that made it feel as though the tyrant of old had returned.

“Silence! Get back!”

Then, with a flick of his wrist, his blood-red eyes lingered for a brief moment to the side before tossing a tablet-like object shaped like a book toward Samael.

“Here, take this!”

“Until I return to the Divine Tower in the palace—you are the new King of Uruk!”

The Royal Seal?

Having reverted to his human form, Samael stared at the symbol of kingship in his hands, visibly stunned.

But the moment his lowered gaze met Gilgamesh’s at a certain point between them, the ancient serpent understood everything.

The Hero King treated nearly everyone with equal distance, even his closest allies—he rarely played favorites.

Except for one exception. One presence that allowed him to break that principle.

The Chains of Heaven—Enkidu.

Even if all that remained was the shell of his dearest friend, and the soul had long since faded...

Even so, the Hero King could not let go.

No matter what, this disaster was triggered by Kingu. Countless Sumerians had perished directly or indirectly because of him. That guilt ran too deep to ever be cleansed.

Thus, Gilgamesh couldn’t release him in front of everyone, nor could he bring Kingu back into Uruk, risking public outrage and the collapse of unity.

So the only thing he could do—for now—was to use the Black Tide as a pretext to send the others away, then decide what to do next.

“Very well, then. Take care of yourself!”

In a flash of realization, Samael nodded solemnly and led the strike team toward the southern gate to intercept the invading tide.

Once they were gone, Gilgamesh slowly pulled his left hand away from his abdomen. Blood still streamed from a deep, conical wound—bone visible beneath the torn flesh.

After battling both Kingu and Apsu, not even the Hero King emerged unscathed.

At the very moment his guard dropped, a winged Laḫmu let out a shrill cackle and lunged, claws slashing toward the exposed king above.

“Thud!”

A faint metallic sound echoed as a dim, nearly translucent chain shot from the Laḫmu’s mouth, piercing through its skull.

Then, a pale arm swung sharply—splitting the creature clean in two.

“I owed you one. Debt repaid.”

As the Chains of Heaven faded, Kingu scoffed, the wound on his chest tearing wider as his complexion turned paper-white.

Gilgamesh’s expression remained calm. He gave a faint nod and reached into the golden vortex leading to the Gate of Babylon, pulling out a fist-sized, irregular cube, shimmering with purple-red brilliance.

“It’s not on the level of the Holy Grail, but it should be enough to keep you moving. Take it.”

Kingu looked at the high-purity mana crystal in his hand. His trembling fingers paled from the grip, lips pressed tightly together in shame.

“I don’t need your charity!”

Mana crystals, known as the “Food of Life” born from the land, are second only to the Holy Grail in magical potency.

For a deactivated divine construct like him, it was a precious lifeline—but the green-haired beauty couldn’t hide his resentment.

“Idiot! Is this really the time to be prideful?”

“If you don’t want to die, you’d better fight!”

Gilgamesh roared, raising his hand as the golden vortex behind him surged. Dozens of approaching Laḫmu were violently torn apart midair.

But the effort caused his wound to split further.

“I am Kingu, son of the Creator God! The harbinger of the three storms that once ravaged Mesopotamia!”

“No matter what you do, I will never thank you!”

Kingu growled through gritted teeth, then pressed the mana crystal into his chest. The Chains of Heaven surged forth again, weaving into an impenetrable net.

In the chaos of the battlefield, overrun by black tides and Laḫmu, the two warriors moved as one—one attacking, one defending—their synergy honed as if forged over countless battles, with not a single wasted motion.

“Hmph... If we make it out alive, then we’ll talk.”

Gilgamesh looked up at the storm-choked sky, the corner of his lips curving slightly.

He was starting to enjoy the rainy days.