"Useless Goddess's Defeat.mp4" (2.7K words)

The grape that had rolled off the table struck a corner of the stone slab and burst open, spraying its sweet juice across the ground.

And along with it, something inside Tiamat seemed to shatter as well.

She stared with teary eyes at the grape near the table's edge, her gaze full of longing.

Rumble…

It wasn't just Tiamat who darkened like a shift from clear skies to overcast clouds.

Just moments ago, the sun had been shining, yet now, the sky was slowly being swallowed by heavy gray clouds.

Tiamat slowly lowered her head, picked up the grape that had fallen to the ground, then glanced once more at the arrogant goddess who had kicked the fruit bowl.

And slowly, those once-bright and charming crimson eyes began to darken.

Ishtar's body went rigid.

The prideful expression that had adorned her face just moments ago was long gone.

Her lips twitched slightly, and though she tried to remain calm on the surface, her heart was already in utter turmoil after realizing this woman's identity.

Why is Mother here?!

In that instant, Ishtar's very soul seemed to cry out in despair.

In Mesopotamian mythology, Ishtar was the goddess most adored and doted upon by the gods.

In many ways, her life path had been the opposite of Tiamat's.

The former had been born into love, admiration, and indulgence, while the latter… after creating everything, had been cast out, exiled to wander the Imaginary Number Space.

Although Ishtar had never met Tiamat face-to-face since birth, this particular magical aura was not unfamiliar to her.

After all, that was the awe that was etched deep in the souls of the gods of Uruk, and even Ishtar was no exception.

Mother...?"

Ishtar uttered these two words with difficulty, her voice a little dry, and even her usual arrogant smile was gone, leaving only despair and strong regret.

The despair came from realizing that the seemingly unremarkable blue-haired lo** in front of her was actually her "mother."

The regret came from remembering why she had agreed to help King Marko drive out the "rat" who had infiltrated the estate.

…No.

This had nothing to do with the rat anymore.

If Ishtar could be likened to a big fish in the deep sea, then Tiamat would be a great white shark.

And now, she, this "big fish"—had swum right up to the shark herself...

In this moment, Ishtar suddenly found herself asking:

"Who am I?"

"Where am I?"

"What am I doing?"

---

A god, that was a being of even higher order than Heroic Spirits.

In principle, gods could not be summoned by ordinary means.

Even King Marko had only barely managed to summon Ishtar under the special conditions of the divine era, relying on a massive amount of magical elixirs and a holy relic.

But Tiamat… even though she, too, was a god, was a Creator Goddess on a whole different level, who was supposed to be impossible to summon by any means whatsoever.

…At least, that was how it should have been.

So then how had Mother descended here?

Was it something that white dragon beside her had done?

Or… was it something else—something Ishtar simply couldn't comprehend?

Ishtar instinctively looked at Tiamat again, then turned her stunned gaze to Alvin.

"You… What exactly did you do?!"

Her voice, laced with disbelief, rang out as though she had just seen a ghost.

Even now, Ishtar still couldn't believe Tiamat was truly here.

Her first thought was that Alvin had pulled some trick, that he had somehow faked her appearance, imitating her magical aura.

After all, according to King Marko, the white dragon of Britain was extremely cunning.

It wasn't impossible.

As this thought formed, Ishtar stared intently at Alvin again and then, suddenly, froze.

This guy… why does his magical aura also feel so familiar?

…It felt like something she had seen before.

No, it must be a mistake.

Ishtar tried to dismiss it.

Although summoned as a Servant, she did not retain all her memories from life.

But some things, certain people, certain moments, had remained etched into her memory, even after being summoned.

---

Back in Mesopotamia, after the chief deity Marduk, alongside the other gods and with the help of Earth's Will, exiled the Creator Goddess Tiamat into the Imaginary Number Space, the divine rule of Mesopotamia was established.

But not long after that, a "monster" appeared in Mesopotamia.

He was known as "Visas"—a name that meant Reincarnation and Rebirth.

From the day he descended, no one had ever seen his true face.

He was often seen beside the King of Heroes, and people believed him to be Gilgamesh's most trusted retainer…

But it was that very "retainer" who had once secretly opened Gilgamesh's treasury for Ishtar, and even helped her steal things.

That man always wore a white mask so, his identity unknown to all.

And in the final chapter of that tale, it was he who stood alongside the King of Heroes to personally end the age of gods in Uruk.

After that, he vanished without a trace.

Even now, whenever Ishtar remembered these events, she would feel a strange, inexplicable sense of disorientation.

Because that man had felt less like a person…

And more like a monster who had transcended time itself, arriving for the sole purpose of ending the divine era.

An immense, unfathomable magical power… a body that defied common understanding…

Back then, even the gods dared not let him get close, cursing him with disdain as a brutish thug.

To the gods of Uruk, who were aloof and devoted to sorcery, such pure brute force in battle was simply crude and uncivilized.

But really, it was just because Visas's body was too unreasonable.

The spells of gods often couldn't even break through his defenses at first strike…

So instead, their pride broke.

"Aaa?"

Ishtar had no time to think further.

The next moment, Tiamat's voice softly rang out by her ear and Ishtar's body flinched slightly.

She slowly looked up, only to meet the eyes of the blue-haired girl nestled in Alvin's arms, gazing at her silently.

Only then did Ishtar snap back to reality, forcing an awkward smile onto her face.

"Hahaha… Mother, what are you still doing here?"

Alvin watched this scene in silence, a quiet sigh in his heart.

Who would've thought that this once arrogant, defiant, and utterly spoiled goddess would show such an expression…

Whether it was the Ishtar from Alvin's own impressions, or the one he had seen in simulation games, she had always left a rebellious and willful image

.arrogant and free-spirited.

She did whatever she pleased, stealing treasures from the gods, breaking into the treasury of the King of Uruk… everything she did was for her own amusement.

Even in the simulator Alvin had played, she was nothing but a headache at first.

In short, Ishtar had been spoiled rotten by the gods.

Yet now, her stiff, frozen expression was just one step short of having the word "scared" written all over her face.

"Are you here for me?"

Tiamat scribbled something on her little notebook and handed it to Ishtar.

Ishtar hurriedly waved her hands, flustered. "No, no, of course not! How could I possibly come to trouble you?

I mean, if I'd known you were here, I never would've disturbed you, not for anything…"

Saying this, she gritted her teeth in frustration..

At this moment, she truly wanted to go back and beat the hell out of King Marko.

In the "intel" that pompous noble had given her, there had been no mention of Tiamat.

If she'd known the Creator Goddess was here, no matter how bold she was, she'd never have dared to come knocking.

"Then were you here to find him?" Tiamat asked.

Ishtar didn't respond immediately. Instead, she cautiously asked, "What's your relationship with him?"

By all accounts, the Creator Goddess of Uruk and the White Dragon of Britain should have had nothing at all to do with each other.

And yet… everything from Tiamat's behavior toward Alvin to the intimate way they interacted, it all felt like it meant something.

Tiamat glanced at Alvin, thought for a moment, then reached out and gently patted his head.

"Aaaa."

Ishtar blinked. "What… what does that mean?"

"She said I'm her cub… or that's what she probably meant," Alvin said, acting as the translator.

Tiamat "Aaa"-nodded matter-of-factly.

Cub…?

Ishtar's composure cracked entirely.

There's no way!

Alvin couldn't possibly be related to Tiamat!

This was clearly just her trying to protect he by making something up.

But the problem was… Ishtar couldn't deny it.

She couldn't very well turn around and say:

"I'm here to fight Alvin."

…Because then, she wouldn't be fighting the White Dragon, but rather Tiamat herself.

"I was just summoned today, so I thought I'd explore the area and stretch my legs a bit…" Ishtar murmured vaguely.

Alvin recalled what she had said earlier upon descending:

"Let me personally drag out the rat that snuck into this estate."

Rounded down a little, that sounded a lot like "I'm definitely winning."

The only real difference was…

The moment she saw Tiamat, Ishtar chose to chicken out.

"You were summoned too…?" she asked cautiously and cast another glance at Alvin.

"She didn't descend as a Servant. She's not like you," Alvin explained.

"As for how 'Mother' appeared here… it's complicated. But stay in Britain for a few more days, and you'll probably figure it out."

Currently, a large number of transmigrators had appeared in Britain.

Once Ishtar became aware of that, she'd naturally start to understand.

Judging from her reaction now… she probably doesn't recognize me?

Looking into her clear but slightly dumb-looking eyes, Alvin felt both relief… and a strange twinge of disappointment.

When he first arrived in Britain, he had pondered a question:

Did every era of those simulator games become real?

Or was it only the Britain arc that turned real?

In the Uruk segment of the game, Alvin had interacted with Ishtar too.

But from the look of it, she didn't recognize him at all.

Of course, that might be because he'd never used his real name back then, and had even hidden his appearance.

…Well, he'd find a chance to test that out later.

Because if it really wasn't just Britain, if the other game worlds had become real too...

Just imagining all those people one day transmigrating and descending upon Britain made Alvin's heart tremble.

At that very moment, a surge of magic, silent yet oppressive, capable of affecting one's will, began to quietly emanate from Tiamat.

Goosebumps instantly erupted across Ishtar's skin; her pupils shrank sharply.

She saw, at Tiamat's feet, a black, viscous mud slowly spreading outward.

…The Tide of Chaos!

Even divine beings, when coming into contact with the Tide of Chaos, could have their very minds corrupted.

Whoosh!

The next second, the Chaos Tide surged forth like a tsunami, blanketing the sky, rolling straight toward Ishtar with overwhelming force.

Danger!

Extreme danger!

Every nerve in Ishtar's divine body was screaming in alarm. Her heartbeat raced uncontrollably as she frantically retreated.

Even as she fled the oncoming chaos, she looked up and shouted,

"Mother, I'm sorry! I'll leave right now!"

But Tiamat was clearly… angry. Or perhaps more accurately—hurt.

And when her gaze fell upon the upturned fruit tray on the ground, that sorrow only deepened, causing the Chaos Tide to swell even more monstrously.

"Aaaaa!"

What should have been a siren's enchanting song… in this moment transformed into an apocalyptic force, a roar of magic hurtling toward Ishtar.

"Why the hell is it turning out like this?!"

Ishtar stared blankly at the Chaos Tide that was nearly covering the entire garden, her voice of inner despair echoing louder by the second.

The pitch-black mud rolled toward her like an unrelenting tide.

At first, Ishtar could still resist the sheer pressure of the power pressing down on her.

But the chaotic mud that corroded everything it touched never stopped grinding away at her mind.

Despair bloomed within her.

This was the power of the Creator Mother.

Even if she now existed only in spiritual form, the overwhelming might that exuded from her was like a genetic suppression, so innate, so absolute, that resistance felt utterly futile.

"This kind of magic… there's no way any sane being can withstand it!"

"Seriously, how the hell am I supposed to get past 'Mother' at this rate?!"

Ishtar grit her teeth as her consciousness began to blur and fade.

And just then, she saw a figure appear before her.

No… not a figure.

That was no human.

It was a black magical dragon.

"Aaaaa!"

The beast let out a thunderous roar, charging straight into the oncoming Tide of Chaos.

At the same time, its gaping maw unleashed a stream of destructive energy that tore through the air.

"Jet White Breath of Annihilation!"

From the dragon's mouth, a beam of pure white energy erupted forth, blasting a massive hole into the tide that had threatened to swallow all.

Ssshh!

Shattered black mud splashed against the dragon's body, sizzling like it had touched searing metal.

Just as Ishtar was about to lose consciousness, the form of the magic dragon gradually morphed into that of a young man and stepped forward, catching the nearly fainted goddess in his arms.

"You…"

Ishtar stared at him in a daze. For some reason, an overwhelming sense of familiarity surged within her.

But she had no time to process the feeling, after all, her body had reached its limit.

So, the next moment, her vision went black, and she passed out.

---

Camelot Royal Palace

Artoria sat solemnly in the King's Hall.

A golden crown rested on her head, and the heavy cloak draped over her shoulders lent her an air of nobility and majesty.

In front of her stood a round white-jade stone table covered with documents, most were reports detailing recent collaborations with the transmigrators.

Standing respectfully to the side was her assistant, clutching another report.

"There's still no news?" Artoria asked calmly.

The assistant bowed her head in apology and spoke softly: "I'm sorry… we've already sent people to search, but we can't find a single trace left behind by Young Lord Alvin."

As expected..

Artoria silently closed her eyes.

The Imaginary Number Space, after all, was a realm that existed on the far side of the world.

Even Merlin's Clairvoyance couldn't pierce into it.

If finding someone there were that easy, she wouldn't be so tormented these past few days.

Ariel, the assistant, couldn't help but glance quietly at her king.

On that exquisitely beautiful face, there was no emotion. But anyone who knew the King well would understand the storm raging beneath that calm.

'Have I ever seen the King wear such an expression before?' Ariel wondered.

If she recalled correctly, during the recent banquet, the King nearly clashed with Morgan over this child.

Why is that?

The assistant sighed silently in her heart.

It had been three days since that banquet ended.

On that very night, Morgan le Fay had left the palace alone to search for Alvin.

"If I don't find him within three days, even if you hide in Avalon, I'll kill you."

—That was the final ultimatum she gave to Merlin before leaving.

And today was the third day.

It was time for Merlin to give his answer.

Though the King had never uttered a single harsh word toward Merlin, Ariel, who knew her sovereign well, could sense it clearly that the King's internal frustration and anxiety were nearing a breaking point.

"Anything from Merlin?"

Artoria's voice interrupted Ariel's thoughts, pulling her back to reality.

"…Nothing yet. None of our people have seen Lord Merlin inside the palace during these days," Ariel reported respectfully.

Usually, Merlin would be found teasing the palace maids from time to time.

But now?

Whether it was to avoid pursuit or something else, he had completely vanished.

"Gone for three days… not a single word."

Artoria slowly closed her eyes again. After a brief silence, she opened them with resolve.

"In that case, I'll go see him myself—"

Just as her voice fell, Artoria suddenly heard a faint growl from somewhere beyond the royal palace.

She was momentarily stunned, then instinctively turned her gaze in the direction of the sound and her pupils instantly deepened.

—The roar of the White Dragon.

From the direction, it seemed to have come from Marco's estate.

.

.

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