It was only now that Rovi carefully took measure of this "honest fool," the Greek God-King of the Netherworld, Hades.
Just as depicted in the later epics of Homer, Hades had long, pitch-black hair and a sharp, handsome face. Tall, majestic, dressed in robes and armor dark as midnight, his presence radiated a calm, serene stillness.
He was death incarnate.
This was Rovi's immediate impression. As he observed quietly, their eyes happened to meet.
"And this is…?" Hades asked.
"Rovi, tell him your name yourself!" Gilgamesh smirked, ascending the towering steps without looking back—though he'd clearly already revealed Rovi's identity.
Recognition instantly dawned on Hades's face. "Rovi…the Sage of Uruk?"
"That's me," Rovi nodded, not opposed to becoming acquainted with this honest fool.
"So, you finally died?"
Excuse me? If you know how to talk, maybe say a bit more?
But Hades remained perfectly matter-of-fact. "Indeed, even you couldn't face Cronus unscathed. Not when you swallowed Tartarus whole."
"Such an astonishing feat…" Hades nodded to himself, deeply impressed. "Truly a remarkable man, just like myself."
"?"
Wait, is this honest fool slightly off in the head?
"What's the matter?" Hades blinked innocently, completely unaware of his peculiar phrasing, giving off the vibe of a perfectly oblivious automaton. "Does my statement confuse you, Sage Rovi?"
"Comparing you to myself is the highest praise—it's something I learned from King Gilgamesh. I rule the Netherworld; I am the destination of all souls, the master of all beneath the earth. Who else could possibly surpass me?"
"…"
Ah, mystery solved.
No wonder his speaking style had seemed familiar to Rovi earlier—it came straight from the golden bastard who was now smirking smugly atop the throne. Hades wasn't as openly arrogant as Gilgamesh, but at heart he was simply a low-key version of the flashy king.
"Bwahahaha! Indeed, you're nearly perfect, Hades—but compared to the supreme lord of heaven and earth, ruler of all creation (myself), you're still lacking a bit!"
Gilgamesh laughed from his throne.
Hades nodded solemnly. "You're right. Compared to your confidence, I still have much to learn."
No, maybe you shouldn't learn any more.
Mastering death doesn't mean you should constantly provoke people into killing you.
But imitation was merely imitation, inevitably breeding new quirks. Hades was superficially similar to Gilgamesh, but beneath the surface he carried only pride without madness. Fundamentally, they were very different beings.
"You've gone silent, Sage. Were my compliments too much for you to handle? Hmm…perhaps they were a bit overwhelming?"
Why do I suddenly have the urge to insult him?
Rovi drew a deep breath, fighting the impulse with all his strength—
Actually, screw it.
"Praise? Who exactly do you think you are?" Rovi sneered disdainfully. "Words of that level mean nothing to me."
"The source of all creation lies within my grasp. Nothing can escape the gaze of my wisdom. Forget about you—even Zeus, your Olympian god of gods, would plunge from the heavens to the earth before me!"
"You're all nothing but ants crawling in the dirt. To look upon my radiance would already be your greatest blessing and honor!"
When it came to pure arrogance, Rovi easily matched Gilgamesh blow-for-blow. After all, who could surpass someone utterly unafraid of death?
Rovi had no qualms offending Hades. He was already "dead," and if he could speed up his soul's extinction, all the better.
At these words, Hades fell silent.
The dark-haired God of the Underworld widened his eyes slightly, staring at Rovi as if seeing the birth of a new world—
"As expected of the Sage." He praised earnestly, "Your subtle wisdom truly gives one endless food for thought."
This guy…did he even learn Gilgamesh's masochistic side too?
Yet Hades's praise was genuine.
Not for the arrogance or condescension in Rovi's words—but rather for the sheer humanity and individuality he displayed.
Ever since transitioning from machine-gods to conceptual gods and absorbing humanity to sustain themselves, the Greek gods naturally favored strong personalities. Many demigod heroes gained divine favor precisely due to this vibrant individuality.
More importantly, Hades sensed that Rovi genuinely possessed the strength to back up his boasts.
He'd devoured Cronus, then swallowed Tartarus whole. That primordial furnace-world churned violently within him. Though he hadn't yet harnessed this strength, Rovi truly had the potential to raise himself to a continental scale.
The reason Rovi's clay tablets earned such reverence among the Greeks was precisely because they showcased profound human ideals and personalities. To Greek gods, these were treasures beyond compare.
Of course, the core reason Hades had agreed to Gilgamesh's trade was because Zeus himself had commanded it.
His presence here now was merely to find an excuse—to meet Rovi in person.
"What will you do next?" Hades asked politely. "If you wish to return to the world above, I can send you back immediately—"
"No rush!" Rovi's caution instantly surged.
Return? Return for what?
I finally got down here—don't even think about sending me back up that easily.
Next, he'd search out a place where he could die faster, hide there, and patiently wait for the moment he ascended to the Throne of Heroes.
Only then could he truly reunite with everyone else.
"You don't need to worry about that, Hades," Gilgamesh called from above. "My reunion with my friend requires no interference from idle outsiders. Now leave, King of the Greek Netherworld!"
Hades took no offense. "Very well. Then, when you have the opportunity, please visit my realm."
With that parting invitation, Hades departed.
Rovi turned, looking up toward the throne.
He met a pair of solemn crimson eyes, and an equally serious question:
"Are you still seeking a way to die, my friend?"
Gilgamesh spoke calmly. "No need for concern. Here, in my domain, even the Counter Force itself cannot spy on our words."
Leaning back against the throne, Gilgamesh crossed his legs, his striking features drawn into a thin line. "I still don't fully grasp your intentions—but my judgment has never been wrong."
Rovi paused, momentarily startled, but quickly recovered his calm. It wasn't surprising. Gilgamesh had spent ages thinking over the past; naturally, he'd realized something.
He'd already prepared himself for this possibility.
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T/N: WHATTTTTTT GIL KNOWSSSSSS???????? WHAHFIAHISFHIA