After Ishtar departed, Ophis remained standing where she was, lost in thought.
This Ishtar, summoned into the world as a Servant—aside from her smaller body—seemed subtly different from the original. Her personality had shifted slightly… and perhaps her intelligence had taken a small step downward.
Maybe that was the influence of her vessel.
Even so, the careless words she'd let slip were enough to give Ophis a starting point.
Apart from Ishtar herself, there were two other divine figures involved—exactly as Inori's earlier intelligence had suggested. And from what Ishtar said, both had some connection to snakes.
Though the information was fragmentary, it was still a valuable lead.
Snakes…
To Ophis, that was good news. As an Ouroboros—the highest form of dragon and serpent—she held an inherent advantage when facing serpent-like deities.
Knowing her enemies' nature meant she could prepare accordingly. Sometimes, simply grasping a concept was enough to craft a countermeasure.
Yet Ophis knew these two were not the true threat.
She exhaled softly.
Even that foolish goddess, for all her recklessness, wouldn't have revealed the most critical secret.
Whenever gods entered the equation, Ophis's sight of the future became hazy—their divine ranks interfered with fate's flow. It was why she hadn't been able to confirm Ishtar's identity until their encounter.
No matter.
Even among dragons and serpents, one truth was constant: snakes fear steel.
Since the dawn of myth, steel had been the bane of their kind—wielded by mortal heroes chosen by gods to strike them down.
But a hero like that had to exist first.
In this era, the one who best fit such a role should have been Gilgamesh.
Unfortunately, Ophis had no access to the Second Magic—and in this twisted worldline, she couldn't even be sure other parallel realms still connected.
Besides, defeating monsters required more than might; it demanded wisdom. That ruled out the maddened Heracles entirely.
And luck—perhaps the most crucial trait of all—was something no one could force. History showed that the slayers of dragons often bore swords of steel. Heroes with spears were rare indeed.
Ophis mentally reviewed every soul she'd encountered in Uruk, but none possessed the potential she sought.
No… wait.
She realized she had fallen into a trap of her own logic.
The true danger wasn't these three deities—it was the hidden existence behind them: the so-called "Creation God."
In every glimpse of the future, the moment of Uruk's annihilation—though indistinct—carried that god's signature. It was the only certainty.
And yet, because of Ishtar's words, Ophis had momentarily started planning for lesser foes. If it were only those three "snakes," she could have dealt with them herself.
What she truly needed to solve was the greater calamity that would follow.
What a nuisance…
For once, Ophis felt a flicker of irritation.
If only she could see fate more clearly—
The instant the thought surfaced, a flood of fractured visions seared across her mind.
"…"
So she could still call upon that resonance. If she carefully mimicked the state she'd entered the first time she'd touched that mysterious power, she could glimpse fragments of the future again.
Ophis began sorting through the shifting pieces, tracing possible outcomes and searching for a thread that led beyond the inevitable.
She quickly realized she couldn't strike down the three gods too soon. Like defeating mid-bosses that summoned the final one, destroying them prematurely would draw the greater being forth—and Uruk would perish immediately.
But if she simply let the beast tide continue, Uruk would crumble through attrition instead.
No matter how she adjusted her strategies, every timeline ended at the same point—Uruk's fall, fixed and unchanging.
There had to be a way to break the stalemate.
If enough strength could be gathered—if every force could be unified—perhaps there was a sliver of hope.
Ophis's thoughts raced through countless scenarios, but none yielded a solution.
Still, if any plan could create even the smallest opening, she already had one in mind. What she lacked were capable hands to carry it out.
Her subordinates were competent, and the Servants she had summoned could match even goddesses—or defeat weaker ones who refrained from using their full authority. Yet each of them lacked something essential.
None fit perfectly into the role she envisioned.
It was, in every sense, a deadlock.
Even so, Ophis didn't stop. She continued recalculating, reshaping futures, refusing to abandon the search.
To call it stubbornness didn't quite fit. It was closer to… curiosity.
Originally, she had only acted for humanity because Enkidu had asked her to love what Enkidu had loved. Protecting humans had been an obligation, not a passion—a task to complete. If she succeeded, so be it. If not, then so be it.
The Ophis of the past had never struggled against fate; she had simply followed the script.
But now, when she looked at Uruk—at its warriors standing firm on the front lines, at ordinary citizens who refused to give in—she saw a kind of determination she couldn't understand.
Perhaps she wished to learn what that was. Or perhaps she simply refused to accept being less resolute than humans.
Either way, for the first time, Ophis truly wanted to try.
Could Uruk really only endure until that destined hour?
Even if it meant surviving half a month longer—ten days, a single day, an hour, even a minute...
Ophis wanted to see if she could defy fate itself.