MYRIAD WORLDS: THE DEMON LORD GILGAMESH

CHAPTER SEVEN: Meeting the Competition

Vera watched the Purger Knight, Gilgamesh, who’d claimed a spot in Nur Haley’s heart for the better part of a century, and she couldn’t help but feel jealous. Before the romantic relationship between him and Nur, they’d already shared a student-teacher relationship that she herself could never have.

Even broken up, the man before her still knew more about Nur Haley than she ever could.

But it wasn’t the jealousy that she focused on now, nor the appearance of the man that her father often spoke about in exaltation.

It was rather his reaction to her words.

She’d only seen him twice before. Once, in the portrait hall back in the Castle, and again in her dreams where he had the golden eyes and spoke words that shook the earth. His reaction to the mention of the golden eyes had been peculiar, to say the least.

Then he’d trembled with the next words that came out of her mouth, like it was a taboo he didn’t want to hear. At any other time, she’d discount his reaction as simply being uncomfortable in her presence, but not now.

Her dreams were almost always prophecies or visions of the past and present, so the golden eyes had to be true. His reaction to the mention of it had all but confirmed it.

Would that Nur had been around so that she could rub it in her face. She wasn’t just making baseless claims, after all. Her ex-boyfriend was not fully human, it seemed, and he’d gone to great lengths to hide it even from the Masters.

Or had he?

She’d met Wyvrill Wolf, and couldn’t imagine a scenario where anything escaped the man’s notice if he didn’t allow it.

She continued to watch Gilgal for anymore signs, but he was now like a sealed book, with a veil seeming to come over his face.

Words her father had always used to describe the man before her rang in her head on repeat: ‘Gilgamesh is a true Purger! He stood alone against them for seven hours, refusing to retreat until the reinforcements arrived! He fought and killed for so long that later, two men were needed to pry his fingers from the hilt of his sword!’

“It was a dream,” she finally admitted when the lack of an expression threatened to unnerve her. Looking at him now, she could imagine him standing at the pass with his back to the village.

“Ah,” Gilgal replied as though he had no interest in the fact, but the relief in his eyes was not well hidden. She wondered what he’d think when she told him the nature of her dreams.

“My father talks about you constantly,” she said instead, changing the topic abruptly. “Even some of the warriors still sing your praises to this day. You must have already seen the statue they erected at the pass, yes?”

Gilgal grumbled incoherently before looking at her with a forced smile. “Aye, I’ve seen the statue. Should have been a monument in memorial of the fallen soldiers, but nobody asked my opinion.”

Vera chuckled. How could they have asked his opinion? He was gone immediately after he was well enough to move, vanishing as though he hadn’t almost singlehandedly repelled a potential demon invasion.

That was forty years ago.

Although, his face and stature barely differed from that of the statue.

“Why are you here, really?” Gilgal asked.

Standing up, she dusted non-existent dust from her knees and shrugged to herself. He’d be back to the Castle soon and would no doubt extract the information from Nur anyway. “We’re taking a break from each other,” she answered.

The momentary flash of a smile that flitted through Gilgal’s face was not lost to her, but she ignored it and continued. “After the disagreement, I couldn’t spend the next four months trapped in the Castle with her, so I’m on my way back home where I’ll wait for her apology.”

Gilgal nodded sagely. “That’d be a long wait, I’m afraid, Princess. Apologizing was never her style, and how are you going to get home now?”

Vera looked about her, appreciating the validity of the question. The two horses still hadn’t run off, but her carriage was already useless, and she had no more guardsmen to see her safely back home.

But her eyes tracked to Gilgal and she resolved herself. It wouldn’t do to show weakness or inability before him. “I’ll find a way,” she answered instead.

“Alright, then. Send my regards to your father when you do,” Gilgal replied brightly before looking away from her again.

There was no cast sigil, she saw. He waved his hands simply and the overturned carriage groaned and rocked upright again. It balanced on wheels of air.

Vera looked at him, shock and disbelief evident on her face. She was sure that Nur had said that he was still at 30% affinity with Rhaido so there should be no chance of casting a spell without sigils to focus his will at all. He was breathing heavily, with sweat beading on his forehead.

She was shocked, but watched silently as he ignored her, picking up the broken wheels and fastening them back onto the still floating carriage. He ran his hands over the wheels, drawing a complicated sigil with agonizing slowness. The he was done, and the wood elements around them surged into the wheels, mending them. Another wave of his hand dissipated the air cushion and the carriage landed on its wheels with a thud.

Vera was speechless. Could it be that he’d already made it to 40% affinity without telling even Nur? No, she answered herself, dismissing that possibility.

It was more likely that he only recently made it to 31% affinity, and decided to show off his new ability to the competition. That set a frown to her face and she scoffed. So what if he had 31% affinity?

Shaking herself out of inaction, she bent to lift a chest, grunting at the weight. She saw him look away and gratitude warred with resentment in her heart.

It was a struggle to carry all those chests back into the carriage, and by the time she was done, sweat had soaked through her gown.

Gilgal was leaning on a tree by the side of the road, taking a rest from his digging. He’d pulled off his shirt and sweat drew tracks through his dirt caked chest. His back was completely covered in the tallies that it almost appeared as dark as her own skin. The tallies had even extended to his upper arms. That was the difference between him and Nur, she acknowledged. He was older, more experienced. And had more kills.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to set up camp here using your carriage for shelter. I have a feeling it’ll be a stormy night,” Gilgal spoke suddenly, with his back still turned to her. He was resting his right hand on the top of the shovel like it was a longsword.

Vera looked up, trying to spot the skies through the dense foliage, then gave up. Gilgal was of the Rhaido sect so he had to know what he was talking about when it concerned thunderstorms. “I don’t mind,” she answered.

He turned to give her a peculiar look.

Then the true implication of his request registered to her and she blushed.

The carriage was big, yes, but she’d never shared it with anybody else before. He was a man, hence not her usual type, but there was something to be said about his presence still. She tore her eyes away from his with a cough. “You’ll just have to sleep on the floor. There’s only so much room on the cushions for me.”

Gilgal nodded, then pulled away from the trees, returning to his task.

She tried to ignore him again and went after the horses. She’d first get the horses hitched to the carriage again, then consider what next from there, she promised herself fervently.