20: Help

When Attila, Ebren, and Enkidu stepped inside, the dim light of the room greeted them with a heavy silence. Tomris and Bora stood tensely by Terna's side. Tomris wore a mask of deep concern; Bora's hands were trembling with barely contained anger. His fists were clenched, breath ragged. For a moment, his eyes drifted to Enkidu—then quickly returned to Terna.

Enkidu, however, paused at the center of the room. He tilted his head slightly, gazing down at Terna. That familiar, mocking smile curled on his lips.

"Ah… poor soul," he murmured. His voice was soft as a whisper—yet everyone heard it.

"So much pain he's in."

The words left his mouth like poetry, but the apathy and disdain behind them made everyone in the room flinch. Tomris furrowed her brows. Ebren's hand moved toward his sword again. Bora looked ready to lunge but Attila raised a hand to stop him.

A new tension was born in the room... and Enkidu was still smiling.

With slow, deliberate steps, Enkidu approached Terna. Every eye followed him. His face remained composed, detached, even elegant. He knelt and placed one hand gently over Terna's wound.

Bora leapt up in fury.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you bastard? Get your filthy hands off him!"

Tomris flinched. Ebren was poised.

But then Attila spoke calmly from where he stood—his voice quiet but commanding.

"Bora. Let him."

Bora turned in disbelief.

"But—"

"I said let him."

Frustrated, Bora backed off, fists still clenched, rage written all over his face.

Enkidu turned slightly, flashing a refined smile at Attila.

"Thank you, Whip."

Then he bowed his head. Suddenly, a green light flared on Enkidu's forehead. It pulsed softly, spreading over Terna's wound. Within the light, a small bud appeared—fragile, elegant, pale green.

Everyone held their breath.

The bud bloomed into a flower… and then withered instantly, fading into nothing.

Enkidu withdrew his hand.

The wound was gone.

No blood, no scar.

As if it had never existed.

Tomris stood frozen, mouth slightly agape.

Bora sank to his knees. Ebren managed only a whisper.

"What the hell was that...?"

Attila said nothing—but his eyes never left Enkidu. What he had just witnessed was unlike anything he'd seen before.

He stared into Enkidu's face, his tone low and weighted.

"Sometimes… I wonder if you're even mortal anymore."

Silence fell over the room. Enkidu tilted his head, his ever-mocking smile still present.

"Oh?" he said, his voice velvety.

"Do you really think I'm that cruel in your mind?"

He fluttered his lashes in a mock-innocent gesture but behind his eyes, there was a dark humor lurking.

He shrugged, his smile spreading like a flower in bloom.

"Well… I'll take it as a compliment."

Ebren rolled his eyes.

Tomris scowled.

Bora's attention was still locked on Terna.

But Attila… Attila was still watching Enkidu intently, as if trying to pierce through the surface and glimpse the truth beneath.

With a tone that was half awe, half disbelief, he said.

"I know how powerful Stonebearers are… but yours is on another level."

Just then, a smack echoed. Ebren had stepped behind Attila and swatted the back of his head.

His brows furrowed, voice grumbling.

"Stop praising that damn bastard already!"

Attila blinked, turned, then lowered his head like a scolded child.

"You're right. Sorry."

Enkidu interjected, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Tsk tsk… as bitter as he is vengeful. And jealous too."

A brief chuckle swept through the room.

Ebren's eyes narrowed but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

Still, Enkidu's casual arrogance made everyone uneasy. But for now… Terna was alive. That was enough.

With hands clasped behind his back, Enkidu began pacing the room slowly, an air of theatrical flair in his tone.

"Well then… now that we've taken care of that—shall we get back to the real topic?"

He stopped.

Turned to Attila.

His gaze sharpened.

"As you may know, your people and Caesar's are on the brink of war. The scent of blood is everywhere. We sent Caesar a letter—its contents... rather unsettling."

Everyone listened intently.

Enkidu continued.

"As for your side, I paid a personal visit. Spoke with Ilterish, with Balamir… and that lovely little princess of yours."

The mocking lilt in his voice was obvious.

Attila's eyes narrowed, tone cold.

"And?"

Enkidu tilted his head, pouting playfully before sighing.

"So impatient. You're always like this..."

Then, more serious.

"Gılgamısh will side with you against Caesar."

A heavy silence descended on the room. The weight of that statement settled like a storm cloud.

Attila's eyes darkened as he studied Enkidu's face—trying to read what lay beneath that maddening calm.

"We're talking about Gılgamısh. Why would he do that? They call him the Eye of the Gods… the master of every scheme. If he's helping us, he must have a reason and I doubt it's a good one."

Enkidu leaned back slightly, rolling his eyes—smiling not with arrogance, but with a knowing familiarity, as if to say "You still don't get it?"

Folding his arms, he turned to Attila.

"Ah, Attila..." he said softly, a sharpness laced into his voice.

"Your eyes may be those of a wolf but your heart still hides like a lamb's."

He stepped closer. Only a few inches between them now.

"You wonder why Gılgamısh would do this?

Then let me ask you this: Why do you think Caesar's so reckless?

Power? Ambition?

Or is it… fear?"

Attila said nothing but his eyes narrowed.

Enkidu saw it. A sly grin spread across his face.

"Of course Gılgamısh has a reason. All great figures do. But you don't need to know that reason.

What you need to know… is this: You're not alone in this war. And this… is a rare opportunity."

Attila's expression didn't change. He watched Enkidu in silence, cautious yet calculating.

Enkidu continued, voice lowering.

"They call him the Eye of the Gods for a reason. He doesn't act without purpose.

And trust me, no one knows that better than I do."

He winked, almost playfully.

"But if you want to learn the truth behind it all… You'll have to survive the war."