The King of Heroes, Gilgamesh

"Oho... It's been a while since I got a visitor,"

I found myself standing in a vast, open plain under a sky dark and swirling with storm clouds. The oppressive air of the tomb was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of expanse and power. Before me stood a figure clad in golden armor, his presence commanding and awe-inspiring. This was Gilgamesh, the legendary king of heroes.

Gilgamesh's aura was almost palpable, a combination of raw power and ancient wisdom. His very presence seemed to bend the air around him, a testament to his unparalleled strength and history. Known throughout the ages as the hero king, Gilgamesh had conquered lands, vanquished mighty foes, and amassed vast treasures. His deeds were the stuff of legends, his name synonymous with greatness.

He had short golden hair that shimmered like the sun, framing a face both regal and intimidating. His eyes, a deep crimson, held a mix of disdain and curiosity as he regarded me. His golden armor, adorned with intricate designs and ancient runes, gleamed with an ethereal light. Gilgamesh's stance was relaxed, yet there was an undeniable air of majesty and dominance about him.

"Oho, and who might you be?" he asked, his tone haughty, befitting his grand stature and history.

"I am Draven Arcanum von Drakhan," I replied, my voice steady despite the immense pressure I felt.

Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed slightly, and then, without warning, he unleashed a torrent of murderous intent and his full aura. The air grew thick and suffocating, a crushing weight pressing down on me. My breathing became labored, each inhale was a struggle. But I stood firm. My [Herculean Physique] helped me endure the physical strain, and Draven's mental of steel, mental of adamantine, honed through years of discipline and his monstrous ego, kept me from faltering.

Gilgamesh observed me intently, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Interesting," he mused, the murderous aura receding. "You are strong, both in body and mind. I respect that."

A hearty laugh erupted from him, echoing across the plain. "Very well, Draven. You have earned my attention. The last person to stand here was your father, Darzen. He sought only one thing: the Drakhan Sword, a blade that resonates with your bloodline."

I nodded, absorbing the revelation. My father had stood where I stood now, facing this legendary figure. The Drakhan Sword was indeed a family heirloom, a weapon of great power and significance. This is actually the first time I heard that. It's a history I, as one of the game developers, did not know.

Gilgamesh's expression softened slightly as he regarded me. "Tell me, Draven, what is it that you seek? What do you wish to know?"

I took a deep breath, considering my response carefully. I don't know if it's because of my game and history knowledge of the character and the epic of Gilgamesh, but I decided to take a risk. "I seek your strength, all of your might and power."

I remember about the Gate of Babilonia, the Grimoire of Gilgamesh that contained all of his mighty treasures. With that in hand, there would be nothing I couldn't face.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Gilgamesh laughed again, a deep, genuine laugh that seemed to shake the very ground. "Bold, very bold! It has been a long time since anyone has made me laugh like this. But alas, I cannot grant your request. My alter ego and the seed of my power have already been given away, entrusted to another not of this world."

I felt a pang of disappointment but hid it well. Gilgamesh's power was beyond anything I could have imagined, but his words hinted at something greater, a force that existed beyond my current understanding.

Gilgamesh's gaze softened. "However, I can offer you guidance and a fraction of my strength, a token of my respect for your bravery and determination. Use it wisely, Draven, and continue to pursue your path with unwavering resolve."

I nodded, accepting his words with a sense of gratitude. Even a fraction of Gilgamesh's strength was more than I could have hoped for. The legendary king of heroes extended his hand, and I felt a surge of energy flow into me, a gift that would aid me in the challenges to come.

Gilgamesh's expression turned contemplative as he continued, "You see, Draven, my reason for sending my seed and alter ego to another world is rooted in the responsibilities I bear. Babilonia and Uruk were not merely kingdoms; they were bastions, the heart of a defense against demonic incursions. The gods entrusted me with this duty not solely for the protection of our world but for safeguarding several realms."

He paused, his eyes distant as if recalling ancient memories. "There exists a place, distant and perilous, where a demon king's power surpasses anything this world has faced. To ensure its safety, I sent my alter ego and the seed of my power to a chosen individual there. This person holds the key to that realm's survival, just as I once did for Babilonia. The struggle against demonic forces is a battle fought on multiple fronts, and my presence was needed elsewhere."

I absorbed his words, understanding the gravity of his actions. Gilgamesh, always a guardian, had extended his reach beyond the confines of our world, a testament to his unyielding sense of duty.

After recounting his story, Gilgamesh's eyes lit up with realization. He raised his hand, and a fountain pen appeared, hovering between us. "Ah, I almost forgot. This," he said, gesturing to the pen, "is a gift that suits your talents in 'Control' magic and psychokinesis. It is no ordinary pen."

I looked at the pen, noting its elegant design. It shimmered with an otherworldly light, intricate runes etched along its surface. "This pen," Gilgamesh continued, "is a living weapon. It was crafted from the essence of the god of wisdom, whom I defeated. Its true potential lies not just in writing but in combat and magic. It adapts to the user's will, capable of transforming into various forms."

He handed me the pen, and as I touched it, I felt a faint pulse, a sign of its latent power. "This pen can reproduce 'seeds' if fed a certain amount of mana. With practice, you can create various types of pens—fire pens, dark pens, psychokinesis pens, and more. Each one will aid you in different magical disciplines, acting as an extension of your will."

I marveled at the pen, feeling its connection to my mana. The possibilities it offered were endless, a versatile tool that could grow with my abilities.

Gilgamesh's gaze softened as he prepared to bid farewell. "Before you go, let me explain the fraction of strength I have bestowed upon you. It has appeared in your list of skills as 'King of Heroes' Might.' This power enhances your physical and magical abilities, granting you a measure of my resilience and authority. You will find your strength increased, your magic more potent, and your presence commanding."

As he spoke, I felt a surge of energy within me, a newfound vitality coursing through my veins. The 'King of Heroes' Might' was more than just power; it was a legacy, a piece of Gilgamesh's essence that now resided in me.

With a final nod, Gilgamesh began to fade, his form dissolving into the ether. "Go forth, Draven, and make use of the gifts you have received. Prove yourself worthy of the legacy you carry and the power you possess. And save the world, Hero Dravis,"

I found myself back in the tomb, the knights looking at me with awe and confusion. The sword on the pedestal glowed brightly, a symbol of the trial I had faced and the strength I had gained.

As I put back the sword, a sense of purpose filled me. The weight of Gilgamesh's words and the power he had granted resonated deeply within me. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but I now carried the strength and wisdom of the king of heroes.

'Hero Dravis'

Looks like there's no lie could pass the king of heroes, I chuckled.

We exited the tomb, the knights surrounding me with a newfound respect, including Modric. The journey back to the Drakhan manor was uneventful, the silence heavy with the implications of what had transpired. Each step I took felt more assured, and my resolve strengthened by the encounter.

Back at the manor, the sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the landscape. The opulence of the manor, once a stark contrast to the struggling cities, now felt like a beacon of hope.

I've obtained what I want, but it will be a waste if I just leave like this. I still have several days before the next lecture.

Looking at my territory completely different to what I have in mind raises a slight annoyance inside me, but it can't be helped.

It's not good to keep on relying on good luck.

Let's observe this earldom that the former Draven had left neglected and fix the things that could be fixed.