Till We Meet Again

Gilgamesh did his best to hold off his sadness, just barely managing to. Part of him wanted to instantly forget that dream, but another part of him kept thinking about it.

"How long was I out?"

He did not actually care for an answer, he just wanted to distract his mind from the thought of that dream.

"Not long. You passed out for a few minutes or so."

"I see." Gilgamesh nodded, slowly purging his mind of those replaying memories. He did not want to remember how The Scripture's words made him feel.

He just wanted to feel how he felt before. Empty.

He did not want to remember that there was hope for him. He hated the very feeling that having hope gave him.

As soon as he came out of that dream, something negative and dismal returned to his mind, and held tightly onto it.

It was a lot easier for him to negate the effects that The Scripture's rousing speech had on him.

So what if he was the embodiment of God's idea of perfection? That didn't stop him from failing both himself and Ateah.

He subconsciously felt for the chain around his neck, and carressed the spherical pendant that hung from it.

"Gilgamesh? Are you sure you're okay?" Dorian seemed unsure of what to do, so he was standing off to the side.

"Yes, I'm fine. I must be a lot more tired than I feel. Being immortal can do that."

Feeling like this was reasonable, Dorian nodded. "Well, you should get some sleep. You can come back to the Clan with me if you want a proper bed."

Dorian held out hope that Gilgamesh would accept; that much could be seen in the way his eyes glinted as he stared.

"Sorry, but I think I'll have to decline. It's better that we go our separate ways. At least, for now." Gilgamesh only added that last part to be nice.

In truth, he was wanting less and less to associate himself with Dorian. Whatever the dream had done to his emotions, the effect was gone now.

He felt like he was allowed to be his true self here, in the real world, and not let himself be swayed by The Scripture's efforts.

Whether or not that was true, he did not know.

He just knew that he did not want to go through with it. He did not care about God, nor did he care about The Scripture.

If it wanted to use Dorian, then it could, but it would not use him. He would not let it.

Dorian frowned, "Well, okay. I guess this is goodbye, then- for now."

Gilgamesh nodded as he turned away, picking a direction to look in. "Yes, for now."

Dorian perked up and shook off the emotions. "I suppose it's for the best. I have a lot of work to do anyway "

He got up and dusted himself off before walking up the hill.

At the last moment, he turned around and looked at Gilgamesh.

"Till we meet again."

He took off in a sprint, breaking the sound barrier with his first step as he vanished into the distance.

Gilgamesh shook his head as he started walking.

"Goodbye, Dorian. I pray we never do."

Taking a last look at the sky, Gilgamesh exhaled long and slow before he began walking again.

Many thoughts filled his mind as he wandered, and soon he stopped noticing the scenery around him.

He kept on walking without stopping, and lost himself in pointless thought.

'Is there truly no end to this Library? What if there are other Libraries out there? Would they also be under the Mother of Scriptures?'

'Where did the Mother of Scriptures come from? Did she write herself into existence? Has she just always existed?'

'Why Books? Why a Scripture? Why not just a world? A really big world with stars and shit. Doesn't the idea of books and scripts seem redundant?'

Gilgamesh walked for a long time. He no longer felt the passage of time.

He walked to the end of the Seven-World Continent, into the sea. He walked along the bottom, absentmindedly, entering the abysmal depths as horrifying pressure battered his body.

He did not feel it; he did not notice.

He simply walked and thought.

'Am I really immortal? Is there actually no way for me to die? What if my entire body and soul were just wiped out in an instant? Would I still live?'

'Somehow I feel like that's the case.'

Gilgamesh walked along the bottom of the ocean, not paying any mind to the sea creatures that swam past him.

Some of them eyed him curiously. Others swam close to him, waiting to see if he would do something.

In the infinite dark of the ocean, Gilgamesh seemed all alone. Then a massive figure would swim by, sending a forceful pulse of water that passed him by.

Undeterred, Gilgamesh went on walking.

Sometimes, a creature would come by and take a little nibble at him out of pure interest, but when Gilgamesh had no reaction, he was left alone.

In this way, he crossed through the sea on foot. Something that should not even be possible.

In his absence of self, he once again did the impossible.

'I wonder if there's a way for me to see them again. I've never really tried before. I wanted the place I brought them into to be safe and peaceful.'

'No. More than that. I wanted to be in charge. I wanted to bring them to a world where I was the sole ruler.'

'That isn't possible anymore, is it.'

Eventually, Gilgamesh made a conscious action to reach out and touch his necklace.

He felt the resistance of the water, and started paying attention to it. That was when the concepts of reality started having an effect on Gilgamesh again.

He lost the ability to walk along the sea floor like he was on land, and started floating off the groud a bit.

He still didn't feel the pain of the water pressure, nor did he realize that his ears were bleeding profusely.

His body did not seem to require oxygen, and he did not feel a need to breathe.

He did not even know when he had walked into the sea.

In that moment, as he was looking around he felt something tug at his body. When he looked, he gasped and sucked in a mouthful of salty water.

"Oh shi-"

Then, he was pulled off into the distance.

He screamed as loud as he could out of pure surprise, but that did nothing. Even as he pulled relentlessly on the tentacle, it did not budge. He watched as dark water rushed past him, and soon calmed down.

The tentacle pulled and pulled before it whipped and sent him slamming into the ocean floor.

Oof!

Gilgamesh hit the ground and felt his brain rattle. Shaking his head, he look around again, still seeing nothing but darkness and the empty ocean floor.

The tentacle moved again, slamming him into the floor, dragging him back and forth, then repeating the process.

Eventually, he just gave up on resisting and enjoyed the ride.

The creature seemed to realize that he was not dying, so it whipped its tentacle again and sent him shooting off into the sea.

'This is quite pleasant.' Gilgamesh stared around him as his body whizzed through the ocean. He was heading upward.

He began to see the light of the Library's sky again, and soon felt himself slowing down.

He was close to the surface now, and he could see that the water was far more shallow here.

He could see the ocean floor.

Swimming upward, Gilgamesh soon made it above the water. As he looked around, he saw that he was at a large sandy beach.

The light of the Book Collection directly above him was somewhat scorching, and he blinked.

His eyes didn't need to adjust. Looking at himself, he saw that his skin wasn't even wrinkled.

It was like he had had no reaction to being in the water at all.

He swam to shore and sat between land and sea, watching the water come and go, rushing past him.

'Where the hell am I?'

Gilgamesh stood up after a while and looked around him. The shore stretched out inland, into an desert without an end in sight.

He subconsciously rejoiced that he was immortal, and then started walking again.

Once again, he paid no attention to his surroundings.

'I wonder...'

'Did I actually get excited at the thought of possibly defeating God? Is that something I want, deep down?'

'Do I hate her? Do I blame her? Do I want her dead?'

'What do I want?'

Gilgamesh walked through the blazing desert, barefooted and topless. His skin was dry, but not cracked or flaky.

His hair had not grown at all in the time he had gotten to the Library, which made him feel like he was in a perpetual state of being a young man.

Gilgamesh kept walking through the desert.

'I don't think God is blameless. She created me, didn't she? She orchestrated some events, and even though she left the story up to me, I was only a product of her meddling.'

'Even so... I was not under her control. I was myself, and I chose.'

'I chose. She did not choose for me.'

He suddenly stopped.

'I doubt I'll ever meet her again. I wonder if she's watching me right now.'

He looked up into the sky, staring directly into the blinding light.

"Do you see me?" He asked audibly.

"Do you think I should hate you? Do you want me to?"

There was, of course, no answer.

"Do you know what I want?"

The silence of the dry air was all he heard. Then, something broke that silence.

"Who are you talking to, Mister?"

At some point, a little boy in full desert garb had appeared at Gilgamesh's side, with his face wrapping undone. He had two large bags on his back and a pouch at his side, and there were deep scars on his cheeks.

Judging by the long line of tiny, shallow footsteps that were right next to Gilgamesh's, this boy had been walking with him for some time.

Gilgamesh's senses had dulled to the point that he could not even detect the boy.

"I'm talking to a very wicked and sadistic person." He smiled thinly.

The boy nodded slowly, "Well okay. What are you doing out here? Are you going to the Spiritual Oasis to watch the Tournament also?"

Gilgamesh thought about it for a second before nodding. "Sure."

The boy smirked, "Heh heh, then let's go. It starts tomorrow, and we're still a few miles away."

The boy increased his speed, and Gilgamesh followed closely behind.

'What I want, huh?'

He couldn't help thinking about what The Scripture had told him. About how the negativity he felt was not of his own making.

About how God had purposefully rubbed his failings in his face and forced him to come further and further toward self-hatred.

His stomach turned and he felt like throwing up. Just the thought made him uncomfortable, but there was a willingness in his eyes to battle the discomfort.

'I'll discover what I want. On my own.'