Rowe turned a final street corner, navigating the labyrinthine arteries of Uruk until the bustling noise of the main thoroughfares faded into a quiet hush. He moved through dappled patches of sunlight filtering between the grand, mud-brick structures, his senses leading him unerringly toward a pool of deep shadow cast between two towering administrative halls. A narrow, deep alley stretched before him.
"Hmph, I was beginning to think you wouldn't dare to come!"
A clear, imperious voice echoed from the shaded corridor. A figure stood with her back to him, but as she spoke, she turned. Her long, dark hair swayed with the motion, and her fair, athletic form seemed to glow with an almost supernatural, ivory-like radiance even in the dimness.
Just as Rowe had surmised.
"It's you indeed… Ishtar."
"That's right, it is this Goddess!" Ishtar declared, playfully running her fingers through her silken hair. Her expression was unnaturally calm, as if the humiliating confrontation in the throne room had never occurred. A seemingly elegant, composed smile graced her delicate, divine features. She was a picture of controlled grace, a stark contrast to her previous unrestrained arrogance, now carrying an air of intellectual poise.
The Goddess waited with a barely concealed flicker of expectation for Rowe's reaction. Ever since her last defeat, the awakened humanity within her vessel had been diligently studying mortal customs. She had come to believe she understood what humans called 'inner beauty.'
To put it simply—
It was all about being gentle and refined!
Gentle, sophisticated women were always the most appealing, and she was certain Rowe would be no exception… Ishtar lifted her gaze, her crimson eyes locking onto him.
What met her eyes was, naturally, that same handsome young face that had left such a profound impression. But the expression it wore… it seemed to say…
'Is that all you've got? How profoundly disappointing.'
"…"
What kind of look is that!?
Ishtar's carefully constructed mask of dignity instantly developed a hairline fracture. But what she couldn't know was that Rowe's disappointment was utterly genuine. He had interpreted her divine 'invitation' as a summons for a vengeful rematch, a final, lethal confrontation… Why else would he have come so eagerly, even sending Enkidu away for a clean, uninterrupted death?
And this was all it amounted to?
"If you've got nothing important, I'm heading back!" Rowe shrugged, feigning a lazy yawn that didn't quite hide his exasperation. He made a show of not even bothering to grant her a proper glance.
Playing hard to get. For a goddess accustomed to worship and instant gratification, this display of utter indifference was a far deeper insult than any shouted profanity.
Sure enough, seeing his dismissive attitude, the last vestiges of Ishtar's calm evaporated. The scantily clad, athletic goddess took a sharp, deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of containing her temper.
No. I cannot let him leave like this. Otherwise, all my efforts at self-improvement over the past seven days will have been for nothing!
Rowe clapped his hands together as if dusting them off, making a deliberate show of turning to leave.
Then he heard the light, measured tap of her footsteps approaching. Her legs, powerful and shapely, carried her forward with a subtle, hypnotic sway. She closed the distance until a mere five meters separated them.
Is she finally going to make her move? A spark of hope and anticipation ignited in Rowe's heart.
But Ishtar did not attack. Instead, she spoke, a rather forced, cutesy smile plastered on her stunningly beautiful face.
She said, "Be my lover, Mr. Rowe!"
"?"
Rowe's mind was suddenly flooded with question marks. Is she serious? Are we on those kinds of terms?
No—
This was the same tactic she had tried on Gilgamesh! She was attempting to ensnare him as a consort, another prize for her collection.
Recalling the goddess's parting words after their last confrontation in the throne room, the pieces of her motive clicked into place for Rowe. She was attempting to ensnare him as a consort, a tactic she had famously tried and failed with Gilgamesh.
However, the very fact that Ishtar was making this proposition now was highly revealing. It meant she had been out of contact with the divine pantheon for the past several days. If she had been privy to the celestial gossip, she would have known about Rowe's recent, monumental act of defiance—uniting the Wedge and Chains to shake the very heavens and blind the gods' eyes. Had she been aware, this meeting would have had a far more violent tone; she would either have brought an army of divine constructs or simply tried to obliterate him on sight.
What a pity, really, Rowe thought with genuine disappointment. A violent confrontation was precisely what he had been hoping for.
"You don't have to rush to give me your answer," Ishtar said, mistaking his thoughtful silence for awestruck hesitation. She crossed her arms, a gesture that seemed intended to emphasize her form, though it resulted in a slight, frustrated pout when the effect wasn't as dramatic as she'd hoped. Giving up on that, she raised a slender, jade-like finger, its pale perfection stark against the deep shadows of the alley.
She spoke with practiced leisure, "I know what you're thinking."
As the words left her lips, the goddess took two more deliberate steps forward, closing the final distance between them. The scent of divine ozone and wildflowers instantly enveloped Rowe, and her soft, swaying form was now mere inches from his. Rowe stared, genuinely taken aback, as Ishtar brought her face perilously close to his.
While he had been openly insulting her, Rowe had never underestimated the visual appeal of her current vessel. This form was modeled after one of the prominent heroines from his world's 'Type-Moon' stories; her beauty was undeniable, a captivating blend of youthful vitality and divine elegance. And in this moment, with their bodies almost touching, the posture was undeniably, dangerously intimate.
This was a level of proximity the Ishtar of old would have never permitted. The proud Goddess of Venus, who viewed all mortals as her playthings, would never deign to get this close to a human—not even Gilgamesh in all his golden glory. But seven days of her divine consciousness wrestling with and integrating the 'humanity' of her host, combined with her wounded pride as the Goddess of Beauty, had driven her to this extreme tactic.
Rowe seemed, for a moment, to be lost in the proximity.
The goddess looked up, her red lips parting slightly. A delicate blush, so unlike her usual divine radiance, colored her cheeks. "...How is it?" she whispered, her voice a husky caress. "My heart is beating very fast, you know?"
Ishtar gently brought her lips close to Rowe's ear, her breath warm against his skin as she spoke. A triumphant, subtle curve played at the corner of her mouth. According to her intensive research on the 'humanity' she had been studying, and her countless internal rehearsals, no mortal man could possibly resist such an advance. She felt immensely confident, mentally praising her own cleverness and flawless performance—even as her own heart hammered violently against her ribs, a frantic rhythm she attributed to the thrill of the act.
"An abnormal heartbeat and elevated pulse are symptoms of a medical condition that requires treatment," Rowe stated flatly. He pressed a hand against Ishtar's exposed, slender shoulder, firmly pushing her back from his personal space so he could face her directly, his expression one of utter seriousness.
Ishtar was stunned into silence.
This guy... why isn't he reacting?!
It was, of course, difficult for Rowe to react in the way she expected. Not because he was immune to such charms, but because his attention was divided by a far more pressing issue.
"Lady Ishtar," he said, his tone dry as dust, "did you not set up a bounded field around us to ward off and disperse ordinary people?" He raised his other hand and pointed directly behind the flustered goddess.
Ishtar's body went rigid. A cold dread washed over her as she realized her catastrophic oversight, but she dared not look.
Because—
"What are those two doing in the middle of the day?"
"I don't know... quite bold, aren't they?"
"Are they young lovers? Ah, to be young and in love is so wonderful..."
The murmuring voices of a small gathering of curious citizens reached them clearly from the mouth of the alley. In the bright light of a Uruk afternoon, with an audience slowly forming, what other 'reaction' could there possibly be?
The blush on Ishtar's face instantly deepened to a shade of crimson so profound it looked like her skin might steam. Mortification, a sensation entirely foreign to the original goddess, washed over her in a scorching wave.
Ah ah ah ah—!
How embarrassing, how embarrassing, how EMBARRASSING...! This is too much!
A dignified Goddess being gawked at like a street performer!
With a furious sweep of her arm, a gust of magical wind swept through the alley. The figures of the onlookers instantly vanished.
Rowe was momentarily startled, his eyes catching the faint, fading light in Ishtar's raised palm. He had instinctively prepared to intervene, his protective nature overriding his death-wish; he wouldn't stand by and watch mortals be smote for a goddess's wounded pride. But to his surprise, Ishtar had not annihilated them. She had merely used a subtle application of her power to erase the specific memory of the last few minutes from their minds and telekinetically shooed them away.
This was by no means the normal, petulant reaction of the Venus Goddess he knew.
"I thought something was off before..." Rowe murmured, a realization dawning on him. "You haven't just been studying the host's 'humanity'... you've genuinely integrated it, haven't you?"
This inexplicable shyness, the tendency to fumble at a critical moment, the lack of homicidal rage at being embarrassed—it was all hallmark traits of Tohsaka Rin! This was the source of the strange sense of familiarity he'd felt. It was also why he had allowed the 'onlookers' to remain; a flustered Rin might mess up her spell, but he, as the Key of Heaven, had been fully aware of their presence the entire time.
The result was telling. Ishtar had not slaughtered the mortals she would have once viewed as disposable toys. This was a 'kindness' and restraint the original, unadulterated goddess would never have possessed.
"Hmph!" Ishtar turned her head away, the blush still burning on her cheeks, her entire posture radiating a guilt-ridden, flustered unnaturalness. "I... I made myself perfectly clear!" she stammered, her divine pride warring with her integrated human embarrassment. "Be... become my lover—you infuriating bastard!"
Despite her overwhelming mortification, the goddess's competitive spirit forced the words out. It had to be said, an Ishtar like this, caught between her divine arrogance and very human fluster, was objectively far cuter and more approachable than her previous, purely malevolent incarnation.
Rowe looked at her, his expression shifting, appearing genuinely moved by the display. Ishtar, who had believed her plan an utter failure, felt a flicker of hope rekindle in her chest.
And then—
"But, I refuse!"
The words were delivered with flat, unceremonious finality.
Ishtar's mind went blank, her hope shattering into a million pieces. A single, furious thought echoed in the void.
Are you... messing with me?!