Creator of Infinite Realms

It was unfortunate. At that moment, Xu Zhi was engrossed in cheerful conversation with Chen Xi, savoring the sweet, hearty flavors of authentic farmhouse cooking. Completely immersed in the meal, he had neither time nor interest to concern himself with distant matters. For all beings must eventually confront death; immortality remains nothing more than myth. Even the mighty insect empress herself could not defy fate. Had immortality been attainable, she wouldn't have desperately clawed through barren earth in her final moments, struggling to reach the legendary realm where eternal life was rumored to dwell. No species could live forever.

Xu Zhi shook his head gently and smiled to himself. "And what about that 'king of the fields'? He's had a truly glorious life—admired by all, his legend destined to be recounted through the ages. Even I'm somewhat envious."

Reflecting further on Gilgamesh's extraordinary existence—his monumental accomplishments, the founding of civilization, and marrying over a hundred wives from his own tribe—Xu Zhi thought, What more could a man possibly ask for? If only I could shrink down to their size, I'd jump right into that joyful, carefree life. I'd gladly live as a free-spirited immortal, savoring every ecstatic moment until ascending to heaven itself.

For Xu Zhi, living such a vibrant life would mean leaving nothing undone. For someone burdened by terminal illness, he was already profoundly content.

"Let's head out," Xu Zhi said, stepping through the doorway while casually smoothing back his thick, jet-black hair. "Time to go buy that washing machine."

"Xu Zhi, hop onto my e-bike!" Chen Xi called cheerfully, smiling brightly as she scratched her head. "There are so many things I want to ask you—we studied the same major, after all, and you're our senior!"

"Alright then," Xu Zhi answered warmly.

Xu Zhi had never owned a car. His previous job had left him only a modest savings of a few hundred thousand yuan, and chemotherapy had nearly drained him dry. He owned nothing but an old bicycle at home, making it necessary to ride Chen Xi's e-bike whenever he went into town.

Thus, Xu Zhi and Chen Xi rode happily toward the city, intending to modernize Xu Zhi's rustic life with new household appliances. After all, living without modern conveniences was difficult, especially when accustomed to city comforts. Xu Zhi felt notably relaxed this time, confident that Gilgamesh would remain as serene as during their first encounter. If one could not avoid aging, it was better to accept death gracefully and cherish one's final moments. Yet Xu Zhi overlooked one simple truth: once someone tasted fulfillment, their desires would soon expand.

Gilgamesh had nearly resigned himself to death once before, but after narrowly escaping to live a second life, he became terrified at the thought of dying again. Now, he desperately yearned to live a third life.

…In the 102nd year of the Sumerian dynasty, Gilgamesh turned 142. The legendary king—whose reign had spanned more than a century, and whose subjects enjoyed lifespans triple that of ordinary mortals—finally began showing signs of aging. When he first saw his reflection bearing wrinkles, he trembled with rage. In his fury, he ordered the entire nation to scour every corner of the earth for any sign of the wise giant.

"Anyone who finds even a trace of the wise giant shall receive a grand reward!"

Simultaneously, he gathered every extraordinary sorcerer and alchemist in the kingdom, commanding them to create life-extending elixirs and research forbidden magics. Countless beasts of the primordial forests were slaughtered—horns, hearts, and bones harvested for experiments. Even the once-abundant Alara beasts faced near extinction. It marked the onset of a dark age dominated by ruthless sorcerers and tyrannical city-states.

In the 113th year, a palace sorcerer finally succeeded in crafting an elixir of longevity using the horn of a Dora beast, the juice of the white-bearded herb, and organs harvested from colossal beasts. This potion temporarily extended Gilgamesh's life, but repeated use soon diminished its effectiveness. Gradually, Gilgamesh once more succumbed to the unstoppable force of aging.

Death was inevitable—even the mightiest heroes could not defy fate forever.

By the 145th year, another three decades had swiftly passed. Gilgamesh felt his life fading quickly now. The once-invincible king sat motionless upon his throne, his formerly dark hair now snow-white, his deeply lined face marked by age, eyes closed in silence.

"My life is ending…but I still do not wish to die…"

After three days of quiet contemplation, he opened weary, sorrow-filled eyes and declared, "It is time to select our next king!"

Boom!

The nation instantly fell into an uproar.

"Great king, are you truly dying?"

"Could our immortal, heroic Gilgamesh really be nearing his end?"

Yet, for a long moment, no one dared speak. Previously, when Gilgamesh had weakened, he entrusted succession to his beloved son Aga of Kish—only to brutally slay him upon returning to youth. No one wished to become another Aga of Kish, fearing Gilgamesh might again extend his life and execute his chosen successor.

Ever shrewd, Gilgamesh announced:

"Candidates for kingship shall be granted the Blood of Power, attaining strength equal to mine! Do not fear me! Moreover, the chosen one will have the honor of establishing a second grand city to lead our people."

His words resonated powerfully throughout the nation, igniting widespread fervor.

"The throne will be mine!"

"I shall become the Second King of Sumer!"

Countless merchants, nobles, craftsmen, slaves, and commoners rushed eagerly to the palace.

During the trials, numerous hopefuls perished, unable to withstand the potency of the Blood of Power. Ultimately, only two survived—the mighty forest warrior Enkidu and the barbarian chieftain Ishdather—both of whom established their own city-states, emerging as the new kings empowered by Gilgamesh's blessing. These successors would eventually inherit Gilgamesh's throne, guiding Sumerian civilization into the next era.

—Civilization began with Gilgamesh and must never be severed from him.

By the 175th year of the Sumerian dynasty, three powerful cities ruled side by side, ushering in unprecedented prosperity. Yet Gilgamesh once again felt death drawing near, prompting him to attempt one last desperate act.

He summoned the realm's finest craftsmen to construct a magnificent temple—far grander even than his palace at Uruk—in devotion to the wise giant. Within the temple's massive stone halls towered a colossal statue: a majestic, ten-thousand-foot figure, depicting the giant cradling a youthful Gilgamesh in one hand, surveying the world below with divine brilliance.

On that sacred day, flanked by ministers and millions of loyal subjects, Gilgamesh embarked on a pilgrimage to the great temple. Kneeling reverently, he led the entire nation in fervent prayer, hoping desperately the wise giant would hear him.

"If only before my final breath, I could see that wise giant again—to behold that magnificent, enigmatic being once more…" Tears streamed openly down the ancient king's face.

Now, after eighty-eight years, with death looming closer than ever, Gilgamesh again stood before the temple altar. Supported by his palace ministers, he offered his final heartfelt sacrifice and pleaded with trembling voice:

"O great wise giant, Gilgamesh longs to see you one last time!"