Kish was in crisis.

  Uruk, which had swallowed up Umma and Mari and grown in strength, had advanced to the very doorstep of Kish.

  The king of Kish appealed for aid to allied city-states, conscripted soldiers, and began preparing its defenses.

  All boys over the age of fifteen were conscripted and assigned to the army, and supplies needed for war were requisitioned from the populace.

  Even Kish, considered a major power in its own right, feared Uruk, which had gone mad with conquest.

  Umma and Mari had fallen into Uruk’s hands in less than a month.

  Behind it all were Uruk’s Five Great Generals.

  When those demi-gods took the field themselves, Kish had no future.

  At the main gate checkpoint of Kish, citizens and outsiders were being strictly separated and screened.

  In wartime, spies entering the city would be fatal, so they carefully inspected identification tokens for forgery.

  At that moment, something came racing in from afar, kicking up dust.

  A tense guard hurriedly informed his adjutant.

  “What is it? A chariot?”

  What soon came into view was a cart pulled by two goats.

  On the cart rode five young men and women.

  The soldiers stared, momentarily dumbfounded.

  They were the four siblings and Ella.

  When the group dismounted and lifted the cart slightly off the ground, it transformed into a small ivory figurine.

  As Azael stepped toward the soldiers, they tensed and raised their weapons.

  “We heard that war has broken out. We’ve come to offer help. Please take us to the king.”

  The adjutant scrutinized them, recalling rumors he had heard of god-hunters.

  Still, he could not bring an unidentified group before the king.

  He spoke in a guarded voice.

  “Do you have anything to prove your identity?”

  Azael shook his head.

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  “Then… you cannot enter.”

  The siblings stepped closer behind Azael.

  Tamar muttered irritably.

  “Seriously. We came all this way to help… Hey, let’s just go back.”

  “We came to help. Can you take responsibility for turning us away?”

  Eshiel fired an arrow into the air.

  It exploded midair, scattering fire like fireworks.

  The adjutant and soldiers raised their weapons sharply and aimed at them.

  The standoff did not last long.

  Kish’s great general, Namur-Bel, descended and ordered the soldiers to lower their weapons.

  He showed courtesy to the siblings and spoke.

  “I will escort you to the king. Please, come.”

  The four siblings and Ella followed the general toward the royal citadel.

  Inside the city, preparations for the siege were in full swing.

  Countless soldiers were carrying weapons and supplies, while elsewhere officers were training new recruits.

  Many of the trainees were young boys.

  Seeing children her own age struggling with weapons too large for their bodies, Ella felt a bitter ache.

  The citadel of Kish was imposing but not as ornate as Lagash.

  It resembled a fortress built on practicality rather than splendor.

  As the great general led the way, guards withdrew their weapons and opened the gates.

  Upon entering the central hall, they found the king and more than a dozen ministers engaged in fierce debate.

  They were arguing over surrender versus resistance.

  When they saw the general and the visitors, the debate paused.

  “General, where have you been at such a critical moment? And who are these young people behind you?”

  The general stepped forward and introduced them.

  “They are guests who have come to offer aid. Your Majesty has likely heard of them—

  the hunters who punish fallen gods.”

  The king’s eyes widened as he looked at them.

  He was elderly, and beside him stood a prince already well into middle age.

  The prince stepped forward with a skeptical expression.

  “Have their identities been verified? Have you brought dangerous people into the audience hall?”

  The general knelt, drew his sword, and placed it on the floor.

  “The fate of this nation hangs by a thread.

  If trouble arises, I, Namur-Bel, will offer my head.”

  At that moment, a soldier rushed into the hall shouting.

  Uruk’s army had appeared.

  The ministers began to stir in panic.

  “We must immediately declare our surrender. It’s impossible to withstand Uruk’s momentum!”

  “Have you forgotten what happened to the king of Mari after he surrendered?

  He was hanged and displayed on the city wall! Are you a spy? A traitor?”

  “What nonsense! The king of Mari surrendered too late!

  If we approach first with tribute, even the king of Uruk will accept it!”

  The ministers’ arguments clashed endlessly, leading nowhere.

  General Namur-Bel suddenly began striking his head against the floor with heavy thuds.

  Blood streamed down his forehead like a river.

  “Your Majesty… please trust my words just once.

  Tonight, I will defend this city at all costs.”

  Seeing the general’s resolve, the king turned his gaze to the four siblings and Ella.

  He spoke in a calm voice.

  “Visitors. Is it true that you have come to help us?”

  Azael stepped forward, bowed, and answered.

  “Yes. Our objective is the punishment of Uruk’s Five Great Generals and their king, Gilgamesh.”

  The king stroked his frost-white beard and replied.

  “They are demi-gods. Can you truly oppose them?”

  Azael smiled gently.

  “Hunting fallen gods is our calling.”

  The king fell silent in thought for a moment, then issued his command as if resolved.

  “General Namur-Bel. I order the defense of the city.

  All ministers are to cooperate with him.

  Visitors—if you succeed in defending Kish, I promise every reward within my power.”

  The general bowed deeply to accept the order and led the group out of the citadel.

  When they emerged onto the high ground outside the palace, the situation beyond the walls came fully into view.

  Night was falling over Kish.

  In the darkness, tens of thousands of Uruk soldiers appeared, their countless lamps blazing in the distance.