The King’s Path

The ride home from school was quiet, save for the occasional honk of traffic and the soft hum of the car's engine. Edward stared blankly out the window, his mind replaying the events of the day—his disappointing awakening, the strange encounter in the void, and the mysteries surrounding the forgotten civilizations.

Ahnavat, the weapon forger, he thought bitterly. A glorified blacksmith.

A B-rank hero, no offensive abilities, and an origin no one had ever heard of. He was pretty much the equivalent of a glorified handyman while his classmates awakened legendary warriors and kings.

When they pulled up to their apartment complex, his aunt Julia shut off the engine and looked at him with a gentle smile.

"You know, Ed," she said, breaking the silence. "A crafting hero isn't bad at all. Think about it—you could make legendary weapons! The greatest warriors in history wouldn't be much without their weapons."

Edward sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "Yeah, I know... but how good can a B-rank hero with no offensive skills really be? It's not like I'm going to craft a sword and suddenly become an S-rank badass."

Julia frowned but didn't argue. She led him inside their cozy apartment, where the smell of baked chicken filled the air. "Let's talk about it after dinner, okay?"

Edward nodded, though his mind was elsewhere.

The dinner table was quiet except for the occasional clink of silverware. Julia tried her best to cheer him up, talking about her day and throwing in a few light-hearted stories about her coworkers.

Edward appreciated the effort, but his thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in golden chains and forgotten gods.

"So," Julia said, placing a plate of roasted vegetables on the table. "Did you look up this... Ahnavat guy? Maybe there's more to him than you think."

Edward poked at his food halfheartedly. "Yeah, I did. Found nothing useful. Just some vague mentions in old mythos, but nothing concrete. If no one's heard of him, how special could he be?"

Julia gave him a sympathetic smile. "Don't sell yourself short. Some of the greatest heroes in history weren't famous until they did something legendary."

Edward smirked. "Yeah, but they usually had something to start with. I'm stuck with an unknown name and zero clue what to do with it."

"Maybe you're meant to figure it out yourself," Julia said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Besides, you've got me, and you've got Anastasia. Even that Hellaina girl likes you. You're not alone in this."

Edward rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched into a small smile. "Thanks, Aunt Julia."

After dinner, Edward retreated to his room, exhaustion setting in. As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts kept circling back to the golden-armored man he saw in the void.

"Who was he? And why did he choose me?"

He sighed, closing his eyes, hoping sleep would come soon. But instead of drifting off into the usual dreamless slumber, something far stranger happened.

When Edward opened his eyes, he wasn't in his bedroom anymore.

He stood in the center of a vast and magnificent city, unlike anything he had ever seen before. The very ground beneath his feet was paved with smooth, glistening gold, and towering crystal spires stretched toward the heavens. The air was thick with the scent of incense and flowers, and music—soft, ethereal, and filled with longing—echoed in the distance.

Banners of deep crimson and royal purple fluttered high above the streets, their intricate embroidery depicting scenes of mighty battles and grand celebrations. The people around him, clad in resplendent garments of silk and gold, bustled through the streets with an air of reverence and purpose.

Edward felt like he had stepped into a living myth.

At the heart of the city stood an enormous ziggurat, its terraces adorned with cascading waterfalls and lush gardens. And atop its highest level stood a figure that radiated an aura of absolute authority.

It was Him.

The golden-armored man Edward had seen in the void, now standing proudly at the peak of the grand city. His shining armor reflected the sunlight, making him seem more like a deity than a man. His golden hair flowed behind him, and his crimson eyes burned with a mix of arrogance and wisdom.

As Edward gazed upon him, the voice of the crowd erupted in unison:

"All hail the greatest king Gilgamesh, the Hero of Heroes, the King of all Men!"

Edward's eyes widened. "Gilgamesh?" he whispered to himself. "Damn, that's a cool name."

The king stood motionless, surveying his people with a quiet confidence that sent chills down Edward's spine. He radiated the presence of someone born to rule, someone who had seen the rise and fall of empires and still stood defiant against the passage of time. He saw a burly old man behind the king, looking not so dignified, but the calluses on his hands showed he was probably a worker.

But there was something different about the old man. He had a look as if his dream was fulfilled , a content smile on his face despite the rough exterior. One of the people whispered, " That's the divine bastard, the head forger of the king's treasury."

Edward took a step forward, but before he could move closer, the dream shifted.

The golden city crumbled around him in an instant, and Edward found himself standing in the middle of a desolate battlefield.

The once glorious skyline of Uruk was reduced to rubble, its towers broken and burning. The ground trembled beneath his feet as massive figures loomed on the horizon.

They weren't like the monstrous Outer Gods Edward had read about.

No, these were different—titanic mechanical beings, their forms both divine and alien.

Gears and intricate golden circuits pulsed beneath their stone-like exteriors, their towering frames exuding an overwhelming sense of power. They radiated divinity, yet something about them felt... wrong.

"Are these... the Sumerian gods?" Edward whispered, staring in disbelief. "Why does it look like he's fighting them?"

Before him, Gilgamesh stood alone against the mechanized deities. His golden armor gleamed under the blood-red sky, his expression unreadable. Behind him, thousands of soldiers lay dead, their lifeless bodies scattered across the field.

But the king was undeterred.

Golden portals shimmered behind him, countless weapons hovering in their depths. With a commanding gesture, a colossal golden chain shot forth, wrapping itself around the nearest god.

"Enkidu... bind them."

The divine being roared in defiance, but the chain tightened, forcing it to its knees. The once-mighty god looked almost pitiful in the face of the king's relentless assault.

Gilgamesh strode forward, raising a massive sword that shimmered with raw, ancient power. With a single devastating strike, he cleaved through the god, seprating it's body into two like it like nothing.

Edward stood frozen in awe. "He's... taking them down alone."

More gods descended from the sky, their massive forms eclipsing the battlefield. Each one radiated an aura that made the air crackle with divine energy, but Gilgamesh did not falter.

One after another, he struck them down—golden chains wrapped around their limbs, divine weapons piercing their hearts.

It was as if he was punishing them, not just fighting them.

Edward's mind raced. "Why? Why is he fighting the gods that supposedly blessed him?"

But before he could dwell on the thought, the scene shifted once more.

A blinding flash of light enveloped the battlefield, and when it faded, Edward found himself standing amidst an assembly of gods.

Seated on grand thrones carved from cosmic stone and celestial fire were the most powerful deities known to humanity—Odin, Zeus, Chernobog, Lugh, Izanagi. Their presence was suffocating, their divine power pressing against Edward's very soul.

They faced Gilgamesh, who stood alone before them, his expression calm yet defiant.

Edward felt an overwhelming tension in the air. It was clear that this was no ordinary meeting.

"Why are they all here?" Edward murmured, his eyes scanning the gathering. "What did Gilgamesh do to make all of them take him this seriously? Is it because he killed all Sumerian gods? Or was it something else?"

He strained to hear their words, but the dream suddenly began to unravel. The celestial figures blurred, their voices fading into an unintelligible hum.

Edward reached out, trying to hold onto the vision, but it was slipping away. The last thing he saw was Gilgamesh turning toward him—his crimson eyes locking onto Edward's with a knowing smirk, as if showing off his strength .

Then, darkness swallowed everything.

Edward shot upright in bed, his heart pounding in his chest. Sweat drenched his forehead, and his hands trembled as he struggled to catch his breath.

He ran a hand through his hair, staring blankly at the ceiling. The dream... it had felt too real.

"Gilgamesh," he whispered to himself. "The greatest king of men... so why was he erased from history? What truly happened more than 5,000 years ago? Is the history of mankind's struggle is just a lie?"

His thoughts churned with questions, but one thing was certain—his so-called B-rank forging hero had a much deeper story than anyone realized.

And if Gilgamesh really did fight against the gods... then there was far more to the world's history than what had been written in books.

Edward clenched his fists, a newfound determination settling in his chest.

"I need to know the truth," he muttered. "And I need to get stronger... fast."

Because if the dream was any indication, something far bigger was coming—and he wasn't ready. Not yet.